proselytizing nationalism: protestant missionaries and the arab awakening debate

Proselytizing Nationalism: Protestant Missionariesand the Arab Awakening Debate

Samantha Allison Borders, MAUniversity of Exeter

Abstract

This article examines the historiographical debate concerning the origins of Arabnationalism as postulated by George Antonius in his book, The Arab Awakening:The Story of the Arab National Movement and the theory of historical construction.After establishing the theoretical framework of the study with an overview ofHayden White’s views on how history is written, it progresses into a study of thehistoriography of Arab nationalism. Here, the scholars Sylvia G. Haim, C. ErnestDawn, Rashid Khalidi, and Fruma Zachs and their writings are chronologically dis-sected, with each academic analyzed via White’s theories of historical construction.Through studying their respective positions, it is shown that these texts are cultur-ally relative according to the era in which they were written.

It is argued that no work of scholarship can be fully removed from outside influ-ences. Specifically, politicization of academics and the consequences of such endeav-ors are shown as inextricable from the created narrative. Because of the need forculturally relative knowledge so that it can be applicable to audiences outside of aca-demia, scholars who write for an express purpose (such as answering a question forthe benefit of others) should not be considered inherently biased. This article posesthat academics have a moral obligation to disseminate knowledge to their respectivesocieties due to their assumed removed status as academics. By doing so, humanerror is acknowledged and room is made for improvement within the field ofhistory. Knowledge does not need to be created for its own sake, but rather so that itmight be utilized by society at large. It is suggested that to foster a deeper under-standing of a scholar’s relationship with society, there should be an increase in aca-demics’ civic engagement. This additionally requires serious reflection and enquiryinto the standards that would consequently need to be implemented to maintain theintegrity of the produced scholarship.

Introduction

The debate surrounding Arab nationalism and its origins has stirred muchdiscussion in academia. Specifically, the question of potential religious influ-

ences on its development is a point of contention. With the publication ofhis book The Arab Awakening: The Story of the Arab National Movement (whichwill be subsequently referred to as The Arab Awakening; Antonius, 1969),George Antonius began a historiographical examination concerning the role of

bs_bs_banner

Digest of Middle East Studies—Volume 23, Number 1—Pages 76–104© 2014 Policy Studies Organization. Published by Wiley Periodicals, Inc.

American and French Protestant missionaries in encouraging the cultivation ofArab Nationalism in nineteenth century Ottoman Syria. His positive outlooktoward these missionaries has been viewed with suspicion, and subsequently spurredother historians to engage in the study of these figures to give the Westerners whateach historian felt was their proper place in history, significant or not.

These assertions from Antonius, however, did not come without challenge. Fol-lowing the immense success of Antonius’s work, historians naturally began to reex-amine and question its validity as a reliable source of information. This resulted inan intense historiographical debate concerning the issue of the author’s legitimacyas an authority on the Arab National Movement, and indeed, as a scholar. This wasdue to his affiliation with the ideology itself and his connections with Western insti-tutions that might have colored his opinions. Questions of whether or not he placedtoo much attention and emphasis on the Protestant missionaries started to arise andresulted in the reconfiguring of how current historians view the topic. Althoughsome claimed there was little left to debate following the onset of the 1990s,Antonius and his ideas continue to inspire discussion and remain highly influentialdespite the passing of over a half a century since their debut.

The contextual framework of this debate lies in the onset of American Protestantmissions in Ottoman Syria beginning in the 1820s and their level of influence overthe development of Arab nationalism. Although their original intent was to spreadthe Christian gospel and convert the local populations (including Catholics) toProtestantism, this effort quickly proved unsuccessful. With this failure came a redi-recting of energies toward reforming local education. In the case of the AmericanPresbyterian missionaries, it was found that influence could be used to promoteWestern secular ideology to the Arabs through their schools. Because of the secularcurriculum used and the increase of scholastic topics covered, these institutionsgained some popularity and presented a counter-balance to the strictly religiousschooling that was typically found in the vilayet of Syria. It was Antonius’s beliefthat these activities were the first to light the spark of nationalism in the hearts ofArabs, because several prominent Christian Arab nationalists were pupils of suchinstitutions. However, due to his own position as a Lebanese Christian as well as aman of political leanings, the activities of the Protestant missionaries have beenbrought into doubt out of the belief that Antonius promoted them because of hisown personal ties with Christianity and consequently promoted his own viewpoint.Therefore, the issue of the Protestant missionaries and their legacy remain an issuein historical enquiry.

Considering this foundational knowledge, one must ask: What is the connectionbetween the historian and a narrative? How is historical legitimacy measured in thecase of George Antonius, and for what purpose is a history written? By exploringthe implications of these postulations, light will be shed on the areas where conflict-ing interests of objectivity collide as well as offering insight into the narratives ofeach historian and examining his or her legitimacy compared with that of Antonius.

Spring 2014

Borders 77

The historians to be examined, aside from Antonius himself, are Sylvia G. Haim,C. Ernest Dawn, Rashid Khalidi, and Fruma Zachs. Each will be examined viatheories of historical construction as explained by Hayden White.

However, within this series of enquiries is a deeper question of historical con-struction. The issues of individual bias stand as central to the censure posed; yetthere is not a sense of self-examination among the historians involved. The purposeof this article is to examine the relationship between historians and historical narra-tives. This will be done through delving into the historiography concerning theorigins of Arab nationalism based on Antonius’s seminal work, The Arab Awakening.By looking at the “heroes” and “villains” of each historian’s narrative, the variousopinions concerning the issue will be dissected and studied in light of White’stheory of historical construction. History is not only a reimagining of the past, butwork is also made (subconsciously or not) to be culturally relevant. Therefore, thesescholars who separate themselves from Antonius (due to his apparent bias) are infact not so different from him.

History as a Narrative

The object of the book is primarily to tell a story and mark its significance.It aims at giving, not the final or even a detailed history of the Arab Move-ment, but an account in outline of its origins, its development and the mainproblems it has had to face, in the form of a continuous narrative.(Antonius, 1969)

With these lines opening The Arab Awakening, it is important to note thatAntonius was rather forthright concerning his position in retelling the history ofArab Nationalism. The book’s own foreword immediately addresses the issues ofbias and how he has strived to alleviate this problem. Admitting that both Arab andEuropean scholars tend to look to sources from their own backgrounds, he soughtto bridge these two realms by referencing works from each to “discharge [his] . . .task in a spirit of fairness and objectivity,” although he does not abandon his posi-tion as an Arab, and is therefore vested in the implied interests of that status(Antonius, 1969). However, when discussing the role Protestant missionaries had inthe promotion and development of Arab nationalism as described by Antonius,many accusations have been made with regard to his objectivity.

Specifically, scholars highlight his connection with Western universities andspeculate whether he granted too much credit to the missionaries because of theirNorth American or European origins. It is in this light that his own pursuit to illus-trate an unbiased version of the story seems doubtful, and therefore makes The ArabAwakening a questionable source for information. Despite this ambivalence towardAntonius, it is prudent to turn attention to the methodology behind composing anarrative concerning the past. To better understand Antonius’s position as a writerof history, it is essential to unpack the meaning behind writing history itself.

Digest of Middle East Studies

Proselytizing Nationalism . . .78

To comprehend the historiography around the origins of Arab Nationalismdiscussed by Antonius and the subsequent scholars, a firm grasp of the intendedtheoretical methodology to be used must be established. In the contemporary disci-pline of history, there is a tacit level of assumption that one who records the past issubject to a scientific method. Therefore, by adhering to this standard, the historianfaithfully produces an “objective” account of the past, so long as the writer submitsto the proper authorities. However, in striving to achieve such heights, the issue ofthat very objectivity and its plausibility come into view. The question of bias in his-torical accounts has been a plague upon those who record and discuss the past sincethe professionalization of the discipline in the nineteenth century, and problems ofpartiality are ever present. To combat these matters, it became the standard for his-torians to embody a stance that is independent of any specific party. This promotedthe idea that the closest version to the truth could be achieved. With the implicationthat “truth” is the most accurate embodiment of reality, much has been discussed interms of how to achieve such stellar goals.

For example, John Tosh describes history as “a disciplined enquiry [that] aims tosustain the widest possible definition of memory, and to make the process of recallas accurate as possible, so that our knowledge of the past is not confined to what isimmediately relevant” (Tosh, 2002). This definition is exemplary of the currentdebate regarding the use and importance of history in academic study. In Tosh’sreader, The Pursuit of History, students are meant to be introduced to the majorthemes of modern historical research and given a framework from which to draw anidea of how history is written. While the book comes across as more neutral becauseof its informative nature, there are implicit statements beneath the surface thatrequire attention.

While historians no longer claim full objectivity, their professed distance fromobjectivity seems self-contradictory. Accuracy is defined as the proximity to a previ-ously agreed-upon standard, and therefore seeks to embody a “pure” form. Toachieve that purity, there must be a purposed lack of outside influence. Whenengaging in historical enquiry, these tainting influences include political biases,which are seen as smoke screens that cloud the judgment of the academics becauseof the inherent demand of adherence to a particular form of thought. Therefore,if ideologies such as these are utilized within a given study, it slants the narrative ina specific direction that ultimately cannot achieve the “sacred” form of historicalaccuracy.

Tosh’s (2002) reference to “what is immediately relevant” begs the question ofwho is the intended audience for history’s lessons. Creating a history intended forspecific purposes is seen as a dangerous tool that can corrupt the objectivity of his-torians. While there exists a body of academics who express dissatisfaction with theidea of writing for particular audiences, there is a trend among postmodernist histo-rians who argue that this issue of relevance is, in fact, what gives value to history. Byproducing a narrative that can be of use to a specific portion of society at a given

Spring 2014

Borders 79

time, this fulfils the obligation of academics to educate that society in ways it canunderstand and to which it can relate.

This sense of creating a history that is relevant is, however, not without dangersof its own. Just as patronage in the past has used history to disenfranchise manygroups, so can a modern, relevant narrative be used for questionable purposes.Despite the seeming bleakness of the situation, this is where the importance ofphilosophical debate must be included in the writing of history. By exploring themoral implications of a given narrative and exposing it to the censure and critique ofa larger body of academics, the misuse of history is given less opportunity to thrive.It can be argued that seeking to make history an end of its own deprives academics’engagement in social issues, thus perpetuating the “ivory tower” complex.

The idea that history should be “kept within the bounds of an essential modesty,skirting the dangers of narrowness on one side [science] and of vagueness on theother [the arts]” (White, 1973) confines its function to a mere retelling of eventswithout the presumption to interpret them. Even in instances where interpretationis acknowledged, the views stated still claim the same objectivity because of thestandards observed. Such a rationale concerning accuracy and objectivity became thefoundation upon which the theory of historical construction is to be built. Becauseof the reliance on a scientific method that was supposedly beyond the realm of cor-ruption (or official bias—as was the case in most prominent histories, due to patron-age), this supposed sense of removal and neutrality became the assumed norm ofhistorical studies.

Despite the prevalence of a belief in the entirely objective historical account, it isnot universally accepted. Theorists such as White present an alternative view of thediscipline of history itself. Rather than a semisacred authority, history is seen bythese scholars as more closely related to that of fictitious narrative. Because it isimpossible to fully claim they are without bias or attest to the most complete truthsurrounding events of the past (because not everyone was there), each individualstrives to recreate what he/she believes is the best and most accurate representationof what occurred by closely following an ultimate standard. However, with the even-tuality of differing views, no two authorities are quite alike; thereby making eachhistorical narrative a retelling of what each historian feels is vitally important toremember.

Concerning the construction of historical narrative, White states that “narrative isnot merely a neutral discursive form that may or may not be used to represent realevents . . . but rather entails ontological and epistemic choices with distinct ideo-logical and even specifically political implications” (White, 1987). These verychoices dictate the nature of the historical writing, thus breaking his discussiondown into three major ideas: the individual ideology driving the author; choice offacts to be recorded; and most importantly, the ascribed authority. His statement onthe narrative refers to the aims of the author, and how they potentially (or intention-ally) mold his/her writings. Although it is commonplace to express the pursuit of



objectivity as a historian’s ideology, there are instances where the agenda is not sopure. One such example is a history produced by interest groups like those ofgoverning powers, which clearly indicate a schema in favor of their goals. Whilemotives are often not so blatant, one must acknowledge that there is a processbehind forming a historical account, leading into White’s second point.

White’s allusion to the selection of events illustrates a hierarchy of facts accord-ing to their importance and relevance to a society. This demonstrates a form ofchoice and prioritizing a specific story even in the most “unbiased” of historicalrecording (White, 1987). Stating that “narrativity, certainly in factual storytelling . . .is intimately related to . . . the impulse to moralize reality,” the historian strives to“identify it with the social system that is the source of any morality that we canimagine” (White, 1987); therefore making it relevant. However, these actions requirethe process of exclusion as well, placing a value on events. The historian, in a sense,must make a judgment concerning the past and what is worthy to be remembered.Although this process can be a corporate decision, it is typically left to the discretionof the scholar. The act of choosing what to designate as “important” works againstthe idea of objectivity, since it too invokes individual opinion and leaves space formanipulation of information to appease specific goals.

Essentially, White sees objectivity as only possible when an absolute authority ispresent, and therefore can be achieved by a history’s proximity to this ultimatepower. He suggests that “[t]he demand for closure in the historical story is ademand . . . for moral meaning” (White, 1987), charging the historian with not justthe ability to choose what events to record, but also to construct a narrative that fallsclosest to this absolute moral authority, thereby creating a legitimate account ofwhat has occurred. The analogy of history as a story suggests this process of choos-ing and its relation to authority. Yet, it also shows that because it is created, there is acertain element of fiction as well.

One cannot extract the historian from the need to organize and prioritize eventsaccording to how that same individual views the situations being discussed. Thisseparation would inhibit the writer from illustrating the significance of the topics athand, thus begging the question of history’s overall role in relation to society. Theconcept that “the very distinction between real and imaginary events . . . presup-poses a notion of reality in which ‘the true’ is identified with ‘the real,’ only insofar asit can be shown to possess the character of narrativity” (White, 1987) elucidatesthis point well. Thus, there is a certain amount of storytelling required to produce anarrative.

While the narrative of history could be portrayed in a poor light (due to itsinherent subjectivity), White proposes a more forgiving outlook. By harkening to amoral standard, and therefore aiming to achieve it according to one’s position inrelation to that same goal, he offers that “[t]here is no other way that reality can beendowed with the kind of meaning that . . . displays itself in its consummation”(White, 1987). Therefore, while objectivity cannot be fully obtained, it is bestowed

Spring 2014

Borders 81

with importance because of the way it is constructed; bringing meaning to eventsthat otherwise may seem distant and without connection to the present.

Coupled with this conception of accuracy is the idea of granting legitimacy to anarrative and its creator. Accuracy, as the standard of historical enquiry, is requiredto be considered legitimate within the eyes of contemporary academics. Deviancefrom this standard lessens one’s credibility, and therefore decreases the ability toexercise influence over those who ascribe to these parameters. With this need forlegitimacy to participate at a certain level, deprivation of it renders a narrative as lessvaluable and therefore as not an appropriate source of knowledge.

In the case of George Antonius, his affiliation with the Arab nationalist move-ment and involvement with American academic institutions places his work at twicethe disadvantage. Although his work in The Arab Awakening is considered seminalin the history of Arab nationalism, historians have laid accusations of bias againstAntonius largely because Sylvia G. Haim published the first significant critique ofit, marking the beginning of the long debate. Although his own methodology wasconsidered relevant and acceptable during his day due to the contemporary popular-ity of Arab nationalism and its supporters, it has now been deemed as a flawedsource of information that must be carefully scrutinized.

While it is true that these biases must be taken into consideration when readingAntonius’s work, what does this imply about the historians who came after him?Because of the suppression of Antonius’s legitimacy via academic argumentation,the prestige of the subsequent scholars rises, therefore creating a tacit hierarchy oflegitimacy and position in relevance to the standard of accuracy. Although the accu-racy of each of these scholars can, and should, be debated, this question of compara-tive legitimacy must be taken into careful consideration.

Contrary to what might be assumed, the difference between Antonius and hissuccessors lies not in how or why their respective narratives were constructed, butrather to which standard they sought to adhere. Whereas Antonius’s own narrativeincorporates nationalistic sentiment and language (as can be seen in his discussionof the origins of Arab nationalism stemming from Arab Christian circles), there is aconscious effort made by the others to not only ensure such inclinations are notapparent in their writings, but also that they reject that tendency born out ofAntonius’s own worldview. However, this very rejection is indicative of the samerationale that granted Antonius legitimacy; namely, that they are responses todemands of cultural relevance. Just as it was acceptable to have nationalist tenden-cies in the early twentieth century, so do current historians view this ideology withsuspicion. Both groups produced knowledge that fell within the parameters of whatwas considered socially acceptable during their respective periods, even if they weretoward the fringe of the prescribed confines.

This hierarchy of legitimacy, far from an open forum, originates in the process ofsubconscious thought. Considering the argument over the usage of history and itsimportance, this historiographical debate sheds light on the viability of Hayden



White’s (1973, 1987) discourse concerning historical construction. It exemplifieshow historical narratives are constructed to be socially relevant, rather than a semi-sacred authority that must be practiced for the sake of itself; therefore, placing all ofthese historians on equal grounding. This implicates bias on the level of the subcon-scious, which creeps into the narratives of each historian via use of language and theprioritization and exclusion of facts. It is in these unintended expressions of self thatsimilarities between the historians are further highlighted. Claiming both consciousand unconscious decisions, it is arguable that the scholars discussed are differentmanifestations of the same methodology, although these ties are unacknowledged.

However, with this exploration of historical construction, many have raised issuewith such postmodernist leanings and challenged their conventions. In A. DirkMoses’s article in response to White’s claims, he highlights that while his counter-part is well-intentioned, he does not fully encompass the issues surrounding thesubjectivity of history. There are several points found wanting with the theory ofhistorical construction, which he brings to light in a quick and thorough manner.The theory of rivalling historiographies that counter-balance each other seemsinsufficient to Moses, who believes this route “licenses the indulgence of ethnic nar-cissism” (Moses, 2005), and is then inherently biased.

While acknowledging that White finds cultural relativism as the solution to sub-jective histories, Moses shrewdly points out that “[o]nly a minority are cultural rela-tivists” (Moses, 2005), therefore making this view more applicable to the learnedminority rather than the general laity. In another work on the study of genocide,Moses is additionally clear in his opinion of cultural relativism. He remarks that themotives for studying a subject are indeed of importance, and that aiming to “render. . . conscience clean” (Moses, 2007) taints one’s outlook on a matter. This reflects anadherence to studying a subject for the sake of itself, and that cultural relevance can,and will, cloud a scholar’s judgment.

However, Moses’s harkening to follow the scientific standard, too, falls short ofan entirely practical reality. While calling for an adherence to a standard of neutral-ity, he remarks that for historians like Edward Said, the “difficulty of separating theethic of the scholar and the ethic of ultimate ends is readily apparent” (Moses,2005), begging the question of the viability of Moses’s conclusions. While it is fairto lend this critique validity, because it provides an area of growth that theorists ofhistorical construction can explore at later dates, Moses is quite emphatic, rooted inhis views, and opposed to White’s theories. Moses’s charge that historians have theobligation to “make claims to which everyone could ideally assent, not just the com-paratively small circle of their own group” (Moses, 2005) is appropriate and shouldbe taken into consideration.

Despite the contestability of the notion of history as an individual reconstruc-tion of the past that can reflect personal biases, this theory possesses a practicalitythat acknowledges human error. In any discipline of study, what is written andformulated demonstrates a degree of opinion from the author in one way or

Spring 2014

Borders 83

another; from choosing specific words to describe a thing or placing judgment onwhat should and should not be recorded. As White (1973, 1987) shows whateverauthority is used as a standard, so will a text reflect that same power structure; andbecause not all subscribe to the same overarching ideology, differing accounts aregiven of the past that equally lay claim to objectivity. What these theorists claim issimply that the idea of conforming to a “scientific” standard of methodology doesnot necessarily bring them close to their goal of objectivity, because the scienceitself can be flawed.

In light of the arguments concerning the usage of history, it is important to notethat this dissertation does not seek to brand one method or the other illegitimate.What it does contend, however, is that there is an unjust stigma against employinghistory as a tool for initiatives outside of the strictly academic realm. The argumentsconcerning the construction of history demonstrate that because the historical nar-rative demands cultural relativity in order for it to be seen as germane to the generalpublic, historians unconsciously write their narratives to suit this demand. There-fore, White’s assertions concerning the usage of history and the subsequent respon-sibility to the laity cannot be ignored.

However, this is not meant to give license to historians for the creation of narra-tives as one pleases without accountability. Implications of morality and the abuse ofsuch demands must also be taken into serious account. The fluidity ofpostmodernist theory, while beneficial for exploring the depths of human under-standing, can stand as both a boon and a detriment to the discipline of history. It isin this precarious state that philosophical enquiry must be incorporated to avoid themishandling of the historical narrative’s power. Without censure of academic criti-cism and accountability from historians and scholars of all backgrounds, a narrativewill then be truly rendered useless and without substance. Conversely, it would beinappropriate to label those who use history as an informative guide for non-academic purposes (such as activism and social reform) as illegitimate in terms oftheir scholarship, so long as their work has been subject to the same critique andcensure.

Conceptualizing Nationalism in the Arab World

To best understand the origins of Arab nationalism and their context in The ArabAwakening debate, it is vital that a brief examination of nationalist theory be con-ducted. The debate concerning nationalism and its origins is one that continues upto the current day. In their reader on nationalism, John Hutchinson and Anthony D.Smith describe the movement as “a doctrine of popular freedom and sovereignty,”citing that its dispersal acted as a bonding agent to unite a divided people under anunwanted power (Hutchinson & Smith, 1994). Most scholars agree that it is amodern concept that harkens to a distant past (always implementing some sort offiction) that imbibes the aspirations, attributes, and values a group wishes to claim as



distinctly their own. Disseminated through imperialist and expansionist forces(peaceful or not), nationalism is considered a Western ideology that transforms intovarious manifestations to suit localized desires. However, as Ilan Pappe observes,“national identity whether imagined, engineered or manipulated is a recent humaninvention born out of the integration of conflicting ethnic or cultural identities orthe disintegration of such identities” (Pappe, 2010); thereby demonstrating thenecessity for the creation of an “other” group to contrast against. This need for theother also appears in the arguments relating to the origins of Arab nationalism andhow historians approach the issue.

There is a tendency to generalization when looking at the character of national-ism and how it has historically developed in different regions. Complete hegemony(cultural, ethnic, and linguistic) is presumed to be a prerequisite for the movementto thrive. However, when observing case studies of actual nationalist movements,this does not seem to be the case. Max Weber analyzed nationalism as “based onsentiments of prestige” that represented the interests of the larger group and genera-tions to follow (Weber, 1994). Based on Weber’s Marxist principles, this view con-tended that rather than incorporating only one ethnolinguistic group, this definitionof the nation allowed for the inclusion of minorities, and thus a more realistic por-trait of the ideology and its implementation. This challenged the previous ideas ofnationalism as a hegemonic process, thereby revolutionizing the way it was per-ceived. This focus on nationalism as a movement born from society’s upper echelonsfurther broke the preconceptions of how the ideology was defined and how it cameinto being.

Subsequent academics responded to this groundbreaking work by elaboratingupon these theories. Elie Kedourie built on this premise with his assertion that“nationalist doctrine, language, race, culture, and sometimes even religion, constitutedifferent aspects of the same primordial entity” (Kedourie, 1994), further emphasiz-ing the controlled diversity that can be incorporated into the nation. Similarly, healso subscribed to the notion of nationalism as a product of the elite and theirbestowal of membership to the nation via birthright. In studying the elite, EricHobsbawm (1994) viewed this educated minority as the secular replacement forstate-mandated, religious institutions. By installing this new overarching body, thepower historically commandeered by these entities became relegated to the nation-alist vanguard. This newfound authority permitted them to spread the nation’svalues into the youth, and thus ensure the future of their project, through influenceover educational initiatives.

Following in this vein of thought, Ernest Gellner (1994) astutely states thatnationalism is “in reality the consequence of a new form of social organization,based on deeply internalized, education-dependent high cultures,” and thereforerelies heavily on cultural initiatives to produce the fledgling nation. It demands lead-ership and social reform to mobilize the envisioned brethren under the auspices oftheir shared identity. This concept of culture as a developing factor in the nation

Spring 2014

Borders 85

finds fertile ground in Benedict Anderson’s highly influential theory of imaginedcommunities. He argues that the onset of print capitalism in the fifteenth centurywas the platform which “made it possible for rapidly growing numbers of people tothink about themselves, and to relate themselves to others, in profoundly new ways”(Anderson, 1994), affirming the idea of social change as a tool of nationalistic aims.This expansion of a general knowledge that could be more universally understoodallowed for the circulation and exchange of ideas to be more easily conducted;thereby creating room for unification. The uniting element all of these theoriesincorporate is the need for an educated, leading group to construct the intendednation. From this position, the hearts and minds of the laity could then be won overand brought into the new nation so that the designated oppressing power can con-sequently be removed.

When taking a closer look at the hypothesized roots of Arab nationalism, thesetrends of elitist, Western originating, anti-imperialist, education-driven aspectsmanifest themselves throughout this discussion of The Arab Awakening. The actorsin this discussion, following George Antonius, are Sylvia G. Haim, C. Ernest Dawn,Rashid Kahlidi, and Fruma Zachs (who will be discussed in the next section), eachstanding as authors of a continuing narrative that incorporates their own version ofthe tale through the lens of their worldview and position relative to society. The ele-ments of conceptualizing how the movement came into being are not only impor-tant to know, but also are indicative of the story each historian wishes to convey tohis or her audience. How they visualize their “heroes” and “villains” of these tales arenot just the result of personal opinion, but are also reflections of their respective cul-tures at large. What they write and how the story is portrayed determines theimpact of their works.

Bearing these elements in mind, Antonius’s Arab Awakening began as the firstmajor work in the English language to discuss the origins of the Arab nationalistmovement. Although this text predates the nationalist theories just described, theirobservations can be seen practically demonstrated within the author’s argumentsand style of writing. Antonius’s nationalist politicization certainly shows in how heillustrates the narrative of Arab nationalism. From focusing on the elite, and tak-ing great pains to depict the diversity of the Arabs who sought unification undertheir identity, he built a narrative that reflects the arguments made by scholars ofnationalism.

In truly a fashion all his own, and in line with his statements, George Antoniusportrays the chronology of Arab nationalism as a story that could be likened to anepic. Consisting of heroes and villains, triumphs and defeats, betrayal and loyalty, itis a complexly engaging book that very much occupies the reader with the historybeing discussed. Like the rest of the text, he treats the origins of the movementwithout exception, crafting it into a riveting tale. Following a sketch of the historicprecedence of the Arab nation, a portrait is laid out of how the standard episodesgenerally associated with the foundations of Arab nationalism (i.e., those of the



Wahabis in the Arabian Peninsula) were really isolated incidents that responded toimmediate needs in those periods. Instead, he looks to the onset of reform in thenineteenth century Ottoman Syria as the era of the Arab awakening; a claim thatconsequently set off decades of historical debate.

After giving an illustration of the Arabs’ supposed “golden age” of the ProphetMohammad and the Arabization/Islamization of the Middle East, the beginning ofhis tale lies in what he titles as “a false start,” rather than crediting the Wahabimovement as the start of Arab nationalism, he contends that “[t]he story of theArab national movement opens in Syria in 1847, with the foundation in Bairut [sic]of a modest literary society under American patronage” (Antonius, 1969); thusintroducing a set of his narrative’s heroes, the Protestant missionaries to Syria in theearly nineteenth century. Placing this claim in context, he wrote that IbrahimPasha’s invasion of Syria laid the foundation for the American influence to takeplace, due to the reforms regarding the Christian minority in the area. Granting theChristians equal rights within the then aspiring Egyptian empire, this allowed forthe small group of Protestant American and French missionaries in the region tobecome more open about their activities in educating the Arab youth and the spreadof their faith. However, this proved to have limited success in comparison with theinstitutions of learning they established following the reforms in 1838.

Although the mission schools had a limited number of students, it was thesecular curriculum that would make these sites places of reputable learning. In thewake of his conquest of Syria, Ibrahim Pasha pushed for his subjects to enroll instate-run, public schools; thus exposing them to the prescribed texts that promotedthe expansionist and imperial aims of the young leader. Such an agenda wasdesigned to appeal to young men and increase their potential enlistment in thearmed forces. Furthermore, girls were almost entirely excluded from institutions oflearning, thereby limiting their opportunities to be taught subjects outside of reli-gion. This agenda spurred families to look for alternatives to the governmentschools, lest their sons be tempted to join the Pasha’s military and threaten theirfamily stability. Antonius believed that it was this very insecurity that made availableto the missionaries the opportunity for their schools to improve in rapport(Antonius, 1969). Despite the environment that promoted secular values rather thanreligious traditions, this was deemed a minor risk in comparison with what the stateinstitutions offered, and the enrollment in the Christian schools rose. Missionarieslike the American Eli Smith and his wife also established girls’ schools, whichimproved their relations with the local populations. It is in this setting that the ideasthat would set off the fires of Arab nationalism began.

Antonius illustrates the continuity between the reforms by Ibrahim Pasha andthe onset of American missionary education in Ottoman Syria as if it were by divineplan. Because “the country needed above all . . . a system of education consonantwith its traditions” (Antonius, 1969), the missionaries play the heroic role of thepersons who provided the platform and tools for the Arab to desire to reimagine

Spring 2014

Borders 87

himself as his own master and nation. This imagery develops later on into a strictlyArab movement, thus earning the missionaries the title of “the foster parents of theArab resurrection” (Antonius, 1969) who encouraged their adopted children to goforth and bring glory and freedom to their Arab brethren. There is certainly anelement of Western paternalism in this comment that Antonius makes his own,which he then takes and turns into a movement that the Arabs fashioned intosomething unique.

Antonius expressed his belief in the American missionaries’ sincere desire to helpthe Arabs rediscover their “lost inheritance,” that is, strong literary tradition. Byestablishing the Syrian Protestant College (later American University of Beirut) in1866, this is what Antonius claims had greater influence upon the future of theArab revival than any other institution; thus making plain the value he places onthe missionaries’ work in education (Antonius, 1969). In line with this statement,the other attribute given to the American missionaries, and perhaps their greatestachievement in Antonius’s opinion, was that they “gave pride of place to Arabic,”which resulted in “the intellectual effervescence which marked the first stirrings ofthe Arab revival” (Antonius, 1969) because of their educational pursuits. Whilethere is certainly favoritism shown toward these Protestants, acknowledgement forthe work they contributed must be made. Their pursuit of reviving the Arabic lan-guage as a mode of common expression was indeed laborious, and one only has tolook at the translations commissioned by the American missionary Eli Smith anddone by Dr. Cornelius van Dyck to see that there is a level of validity to theseclaims.1 As will be shown later on, these efforts were limited, but useful nonetheless.

Strong emphasis is placed on this theory of literature as the vehicle to the awak-ening of the nationalist Arab mentality. Antonius uses the example of Nasif Yazijiand Butrus al-Bustani, two Arab Christian intellectuals who would become promi-nent figures of inspiration in the Arab nationalist movement of the late nineteenthand early twentieth centuries, to illustrate this point. Both men possessed close tieswith the Protestant missionaries, and al-Bustani himself converted to Protestantismunder the influence of Smith. These relationships resulted in the Americans encour-aging these men to act upon their nationalist ends. It is from this cosmopolitantutelage and connection that Antonius believes they were fostered into pursuing(and, indeed, full-heartedly desiring) the revival of the Arabic language. Both Yazijiand al-Bustani were commissioned to assist in the creation of Arabic language text-books to be used in the mission schools as well as translate copies of the New Tes-tament into Arabic (efforts that can still be seen today in certain editions of thebook). He wrote that this task was completed with such “avidity” by the two menand other Arab parties that it “showed not only that they filled a want [by promot-ing Arabic], but that minds were awakening to knowledge” (Antonius, 1969) thatlay dormant in their subconscious, nationalist thought. This implication of encour-agement and discovery makes the Protestant missionaries, especially the Americanones, essential to Antonius’s tale of the restoration of Arab dignity. He believed it



was the fruits of their labor that inspired members of the secret Beirut literarysociety (including al-Bustani, Yaziji, and Yaziji’s son Ibrahim) to circulate nationalistideas and sentiments throughout the city and region of Lebanon. From there,like an unstoppable trickling of water that breaks into a flood, the young revolution-aries that became the Young Arab movement were inspired to take up the callof independence from the Ottoman overlords and establish Arab nations of theirown.

The initial reviews of Antonius’s work were glowing with admiration, and fewoffered significant critique. Hailed as “written with obviously careful research, wideknowledge, and a sense of responsibility . . . [and] analytical survey of the origins,development, and problems of Arab nationalism” (Ireland, 1939) by one reviewerand seen as “a thorough and fair-minded scholar . . . but [also] a keen analyst ofcharacter and motives” (“The Arab Awakening,” 1939) by another, his work was wellreceived and generally promoted among students of Arab nationalism. As the firstcomprehensive text in the English language concerning the origins of Arab nation-alism, Antonius made his reputation as a scholar without the usual qualifications.Having only a bachelor’s degree, his experience working in the Mandate Palestinegovernment and affiliation with Columbia University in the United States overrodethis limitation and granted his work the status of “seminal.”

However, this immunity to criticism did not last long. The beginning of censureof Antonius marks the beginning of the historical debate concerning the origins ofArab nationalism. Hints at his character and motives appeared in later reviews, suchas that of S.W.B., who commented that Antonius wrote his rousing book during theArab uprising in Palestine (1936–1938) and found the work “definitely dated”(S.W.B., 1947) despite its revolutionary nature at the time of publication. This ref-erence to time and circumstances under which Antonius published his famous workwere later commented on by various historians, who did not let these finer detailsescape their notice.

Starting this censure of character, Sylvia Haim wrote that “a historian he callshimself, but he is a historian with a political passion” (Haim, 1953); somethingwhich she did not entirely condemn or support. Rather, her analysis labeled thisinformation as an item to keep in mind and be regarded with a degree of apprehen-sion. Antonius’s nationalist sentiments colored Haim’s opinions and did ultimatelymake her assessment more concerned with how (rather than why) he wrote thebook. Although Haim was the first of many thereafter to criticize Antonius’s posi-tion, it was Albert Hourani who became a standard reference for opinion. C. ErnestDawn himself was among those who, although he neglected to remark onAntonius’s person outright, did default to agreeing with the famous historian(Dawn, 1991). Dawn noted his consensus with Hourani in relation to the latter’sstudy of Antonius. Hourani surmised that “ [t]he readers to whom it [the book] wasaddressed were primarily British, politicians, diplomats, officials, journalists andscholars, members of the elite . . . in a position to exercise some influence upon deci-

Spring 2014

Borders 89

sions” (Hourani, 1985); therefore, implicating Antonius as having a certain type ofpeople to whom he wished to appeal and alert. Calling Antonius’s work an “uneasycombination of . . . historical narrative, but also political advocacy” (Hourani, 1985),this became the general and more neutral position on the man himself, while histheories continued to be debated as if they were separate entities. Antonius’s wish toengage with a certain group of people became regarded as a detraction to his worksbecause of his political ends meshing with academic pursuits. According to viewslike that of Hourani, the meshing of politics and scholarship was a violation ofrealms that should not occur.

Despite the gap in time, this debate concerning Antonius’s position did notend. With the rise of academics becoming politically involved alongside theirwork, this issue would crop up time and time again in reference to a historian’sduty to his/her discipline and for whom or what their narratives were written. Theever-ready Rashid Khalidi, although not expressly concerned with Antoniushimself, gives his recognition and appreciation to the controversial historian, notseeming to mind the duality of the man’s politics and scholarship; and, indeed,claims that it is remarkable and worthy of granting commendation (Khalidi,1991a). In contrast, Fruma Zachs does not find this so easy to dismiss. She writesthat “Antonius’ [sic] interpretation, as is known, was motivated by political andideological considerations . . . [and] received encouragement for his germ of anidea . . . when he sensed that demand would be great for a book on the subject”(Zachs, 2005b), implying that his motivations might be more inwardly driven andtherefore to be regarded with suspicion. Despite this disdain, she does acknowl-edge some of the finer arguments in The Arab Awakening and refrains fromextending her reproach to the subjects; but rather reevaluates them in spite of theoriginal ascribed context.

This suspicion of Antonius requires specific attention. One thing the debatedemonstrates is how the legitimacy of a text and its author are intrinsically tied. Inthe case of Antonius, his politicization was the root of great concern. Yet this sameuneasiness draws attention to issues of the current value system used when measur-ing the legitimacy of a piece. While it is right to question Antonius’s motives andgoals behind writing The Arab Awakening, it must be asked why elements of hiswriting are detrimental to his standing as a reputable academic and what separateshim from the newer historians.

Antonius’s nationalist tendencies are well known and are commented on atlength. It is clear that his personal ideologies are not in line with current academictrends, and are generally frowned upon in professional scholarship. However, theintegral point here is that this refers to the present, the here and now. At the time ofAntonius’s authorship (late 1930s), nationalism was far more accepted and com-monplace as a stance in academia. Indeed, Antonius was not so singular in his feel-ings, but rather one of many, especially with concern to the Arab world. As Houraniand Zachs observed, his book was geared toward a present need. Under these cir-



cumstances, Antonius was well within the given parameter of his time and receivedpositive reinforcement for his labors. Essentially, he responded to the demands (i.e.,lack of comprehensive, English-language resources on Arab nationalism) aroundhim. He offered an answer to the questions of those around him, thus giving hisbook purpose and cultural relevance.

Furthermore, while his position in regard to the Christian missionaries mighthave perhaps been exaggerated, it does have merit. In relation to the closure of Prot-estant schools, Robert M. Haddad writes that the rise of secularism from Christianinstitutions, missionary or Arab, in the early nineteenth century represented toMuslims the “sharing [of ] political and cultural hegemony with those . . . governedfor a millennium” (Haddad, 1970), namely, the Christian minority. David DeanCommins (1990) adds that Christian Arabs and their compatriots were certainlyviewed as a threat following Ibrahim Pasha’s rule and the implementation of theGulhane Rescript of 1837, which granted equal rights to the Christian minority inSyria. Because of the Christian Arabs’ ties with the West through shared faith, itseemed as if Islamic hegemony was deteriorating in the eyes of the ruling powers.However, “Ottoman reformers regarded it as a way to remove pretexts for Europeanintervention on behalf of religious minorities” (Commins, 1990). Thus, theseMuslim Arab leaders were actually striving to increase their hold over the empireand were instrumental in providing an outlet for the Christian Arabs’ secularistnotions to gain momentum.

With these factors in mind, it is here that an exploration must commence. Tounderstand the connection between Antonius and the following historians, the sig-nificance of cultural relevance in their texts must be examined. If Antonius’spoliticization was tied to the purpose of enlightening influential English speakersabout the history of Arab nationalism, what then do Haim, Dawn, Khalidi, andZachs’s works respond to, and do those same reactions add to or detract from totheir legitimacy?

Deconstructing the Narrative

If one examines the criticism of George Antonius’s (1969) work from the stand-point of Arab nationalism’s origins, this missionary factor becomes a problematictheme to tackle. Keeping in mind the previously discussed suspicion behindAntonius’s motives for writing his treatise, it would seem that subsequent historianswould remove themselves from such vulnerability to ridicule. By denouncing theelements of Antonius’s intentions for writing his work, they place themselves in arealm that is seemingly freer of such academic blemishes. Their critique of culturalrelativism does not apply to themselves. However, just as Antonius’s work wascreated for educating a Western audience unexposed to the rise of the ArabNational Movement, so too can these historians’ writings be placed in a position rel-evant to a population they wish for their knowledge to reach.

Spring 2014

Borders 91

From this comparison, it is seen that while no two tales are alike, their purposesand methodology can in fact be the same. This chapter seeks to deconstruct theworks of Sylvia G. Haim (1953, 1976), C. Ernest Dawn (1961, 1962, 1991), RashidKhalidi (1991a, 1991b, 1997), and Fruma Zachs (2001, 2005a, 2005b) concerningthe origins of Arab nationalism and analyze the implications of their conclusions viaWhite’s (1973, 1987) theory of historical narrativity and construction. It will focusspecifically on the issues of who is credited with igniting the flames of nationalism.Just as Antonius paints the Protestant missionaries (mostly American) as the figuresresponsible for promoting the budding ideas of nationalism among their Arab laity,so do the other historians designate their own “hero” or “champion” of the move-ment. The commonality between all of these chosen figures, as will be seen, is thatthey are culturally relevant according to the events contemporary to each historian.

As one of the earliest and most famous critics of Antonius’s work, Sylvia G.Haim broke new ground with her assessment of The Arab Awakening. By challeng-ing the author’s fundamental arguments and dissecting his points with a pitchedfervor, Haim acted as a catalyst for a renewal of enquiry into the origins of Arabnationalism. Writing at length about not only Antonius but also the questions heposed, she contended that it was the salafiyya movement rather than the Protestantmissionaries who represented “the first intellectual burgeoning of Arab nationalism”(Haim, 1976). Muslim intellectuals, rather than Protestant missionaries, are theforerunners of Haim’s narrative. This contention was exceptional given that it con-fronted the idea of Arab nationalism’s being a secular movement, and insteadposited that its roots lay in Islam instead. She found that the Wahabis’ efforts torestore fundamental Islamic principles pressed Arabs across the Middle East toevaluate their connection with one another, therefore initiating ideas of the Arabnation that grew through the spread of Islam during the time and exploits of theProphet Mohammad.

In general, Haim does not substantially address the issues surrounding the Prot-estant missionaries. Rather, she gives emphasis to the Islamic roots of Arab nation-alism, indicating her belief in the movement’s religious overtones. However, herworks focus largely on the Islamic aspects of Arab nationalism and significantlydownplay the role of both European and Arab Christians, and therefore makes it astrongly reactionary piece to Antonius’s work. However, having been one of the firsthistorians to offer such criticism, it is understandable that such a narrative would beconstructed in response. Her argument against the effectiveness of the ChristianArabs’ influence concerning the rise of Arab nationalism takes several forms.

One such instance was her belief that “while Lebanese Christians were certainlyanti-Ottoman, they were not Arab nationalists; for they were prepared to accept theprotectorate of a Christian power . . . whereas Rashid Rida and his friends in Cairo. . . were not prepared to entertain such a nation” (Haim, 1976). Because of theirmajority status, Haim (1976) found that the activities of Muslim intellectuals likeRida and his companions were a more effective legacy than that of the Society of Arts



and Sciences (al-Jam’iyya al Suriyya li-Iktisab al-Ulum wal-Funun), which wasfounded by prodigies of the Protestant mission schools. She did, however, creditAntonius’s work on the missionaries, calling chapter III of his book “useful” for theinformation it gives about the activities of the different missionary societies.

Looking at contemporary sources, Haim argued that “Arab nationalists deny theallegation that Arab nationalism is an un-Islamic movement” (Al-Bazzaz & Haim,1954), and that secularism was more of an agenda belonging to non-Muslim fac-tions of the Arab National movement. Because of her belief that Arab nationalismoriginated in Islamic revival, Haim rejected Antonius’s idea of the movement beingsecular, and suggested that Christian Arab initiatives only influenced those whosubscribed to similar values, namely other Christians. She further stated that theChristian Arabs wished “for identification with the majority” (Haim, 1953) of Arabnationalists, and therefore accepted the defined golden age of the Arabs as stem-ming from the beginning of the Prophet Mohammad’s revelation.

Despite the complexity of her argument, and her assumed role as removed frominvesting political interests in her own writing (unlike Antonius, who she lays suchaccusations against), this is not necessarily true. The majority of her works concern-ing the question of the beginnings of the Arab National movement were writtenduring the 1950s and 1960s, which was at the height of pan-Arabism’s popularity.Her conceptualization of Arab nationalism and how it started proves itself closelyrelated to the ideology of pan-Arabism, which called for one contiguous Arabcountry. Like the ideology, she conceptualized the movement with the assumptionthat it wished to unite all Arabs under one political entity. Writing as a British his-torian, her work was in actuality immediately relevant to the time in which shelived, and worked as a framework to understand the current issues of dealing withGamal Abdel Nasser and his wildly popular call to unite the Middle East togetheras the Arab people and nation.

With the Cold War just beginning to gain momentum, there was surely ademand to understand all movements that were either Communist or potentiallysympathetic. The Western powers, poised in readiness against the spread of theSoviet threat, could have potentially influenced Haim to make such connections.Despite her accusation against Antonius’s intentions for writing, Haim was no lessguilty to responding to a present, academic need whether it was consciously done ornot. In this light, she is placed in the same position as Antonius, who appealed toWestern leaders with his work to influence them toward a better understanding ofArab nationalism and what it meant to the people who subscribed to such views.

Renowned historian C. Ernest Dawn entered the debate upon the heels of Haim,building upon the ground she had broken. Extrapolating upon her divergent ideas ofthe origins of Arab nationalism, he developed his own opinions and contributed toits study for more than three decades. When looking at the work of C. ErnestDawn, his view of the origins of Arab nationalism can be easily summed. Dawnattributes Arabism to intellectuals who subscribed to reviving an Islamic, Arab past

Spring 2014

Borders 93

rather than a secular Arabism as promoted by the Arab Christians. In his famousessay “From Ottomanism to Arabism: The Origin of an Ideology,” he succinctlyclaims that “[i]nterest in nationality as a political principle was rekindled among theMoslem peoples by contact with the West” (Dawn, 1961). What can be attributedto Dawn’s writings is that he draws attention to the competing nationalisms accord-ing to which religion (or lack thereof ) they subscribed. Both Antonius and Haimfall short in this respect, focusing narrowly on the perspectives of Christians andMuslims, respectively.

Unlike Antonius’s belief in the Protestant missionaries as the medium of thistransaction, Dawn describes the overseas encounters by early nineteenth centuryArab intellectuals as the ones who began to spread the Western concept of thenation. Rather than following the trends of other historians who claim thatbecause nationalism is a bourgeois movement, the Christian Arabs (whom theybelieved were the only elite part of Arab society at the time) were therefore theforerunners of Arab nationalism, Dawn contends that this claim holds little to novalidity. His study in his article The Rise of Arabism in Syria demonstrates that notonly were Christian Arabs a minority in the participants of early Arab national-ism, but that the elite included numerous Muslims as well as Christians (Dawn,1962).

Specifically, he cites the wildly popular account written by Rifa ah Rafi Tahtawiof his experiences in France and the concepts he was exposed to while abroad.However, it was not imitation of the West that Rifa promoted, but rather theconcept that without the great glory of the Arab’s influence (via the sciences),Europe would not have developed into a great power (Dawn, 1961). He credits themission schools (French and American) with bringing local populations “into closecontact with the West” (Dawn, 1961), but without little more commendation.Within this framework set out by Tahtawi, a race was set between the East and theWest, and the latter was the current forerunner. To overcome this disparity, he andother reformers (such as those who contributed to the Tanzimat reforms) felt thebest course was to take only the elements in Western nationalism which wereacceptable according to the tenets of Islam (Dawn, 1961). Initially, this promotedthe conceptualization of Ottomanism, which recognized the Ottoman Empire’splace as the rightful Islamic empire and legacy of the Prophet Mohammad.However, it was not long before a distinction was made between the Turkish andArab ethnicities.

Furthermore, it is important to emphasize the dichotomy that was drawn byArab nationalists between themselves and the West when elaborating upon Dawn’sviews (1961, 1962, 1991). To them (even Christian Arabs), the Christian West wasto be defeated by the Muslim East and restore its former glory under Islamic Arabhegemony. This, according to Dawn, is why the missionaries proved of little impor-tance, due to the minority of leading Arab nationalists that attended their institu-tions as well as the cultivation of sympathy/reliance on the West for protection due



to their ties through faith. While perhaps not entirely effective with establishingArab Nationalism as Antonius had wished for them to be portrayed, it may be moreaccurate to place the importance of the onset of Protestant missionaries and theirnationalistic influences to the more confined realm of Syrian nationalism.

This emphasis on the Muslim contribution to the creation of Arab nationalismrests in the belief that the Christianity of men like al-Bustani and al-Yaziji was acompromising factor in their allegiance to the movement because of the idea of theArabs’ golden age lying in the era of the Prophet. This placed them in a situationthat challenged their religious views, while also appealing to their secular apprecia-tion of wanting to overtake (or minimally be equal with) the West and free theArabs of their colonialist yoke. To manage this, they were required to later on navi-gate these paradoxes by subscribing to the importance of the Prophet Mohammadas a leader of the Arab people (Dawn, 1991).

Much like Haim, Dawn (1961, 1962, 1991) examined the origins of Arabnationalism as a pan-Arabist initiative. Because of the long expanse of his scholar-ship ranging from the 1960s up to the 1990s, there were multiple major events thatat least on the surface level would have been tangential in his work. As an Americanacademic during the Cold War, and with Communism as a hot issue for the dura-tion of his career, it is unavoidable that he would have looked at the movements inthe Middle East to minimally inform his own approach concerning the changingpositions of pan-Arabists with regard to their potential alliance with the Westernpowers or Soviet Union.

In his well-known fashion, Rashid Khalidi (1991a, 1991b, 1997) takes a differentroute in relation to how the Arab National Movement began. Confronting the pre-vious scholarship, he turned the argument back toward a synthesis, reining in thedismissal of the missionaries to a more inclusive view. His own argument is thatwhile the majority of the intellectuals encouraging Arab nationalism were Muslim,the Christian Arabs were significant contributors and should not be ignored.Khalidi credits nineteenth century Beirut with having “particular importance interms of the social, economic, and educational changes taking place throughoutSyria” due to its embrace of innovation via openness and acceptance of various localsects (Khalidi, 1991b). “Like other ideas and ideologies, Arab nationalism deservesto be studied for itself and in terms of the social and political forces that espouse it,as well as in terms of individuals and their personal failings” (Khalidi, 1991a).

He highlights a previously unexplored route of looking at Jerusalem as a base ofArab nationalism “whose population shared in the economic and demographicgrowth and the expansion of education going on in the coastal regions of biladal-sham” (Khalidi, 1991b). Certainly, the missionary actions in Jerusalem producedan educational system that would later influence Palestinian nationalist aspirations(Khalidi, 1997).2 Because a number of Arabs in Palestine knew they were “pawns ina game between the great powers and the Ottoman state,” they purposefully senttheir children to the mission or private schools to avoid the likely political indoctri-

Spring 2014

Borders 95

nation. It is vital to notice that “the American schools were seen as the most politi-cally neutral” and thus became a preferred option for families (Khalidi, 1997).

Khalidi challenges Haim’s stance, asserting that “to reduce Arab nationalism tono more than opposition to the state of Israel . . . is surely unjustified given the dif-fering resonances of the ideology in different parts and in different social strata ofthe Arab world”; a feeling which he notes as “highly revealing of her attitude towardher subject” (Khalidi, 1991a) and denouncing her own political interests. In spite ofthis clear disagreement with Haim, he does retain some of Dawn’s arguments asvalid. Their accord lies in relation to Arab nationalism being a product of elitistrivalries and was more of an Arab rather than Western creation, thereby wearingdown the older, more Orientalist views of the issue (Khalidi, 1991b). However, apoint which Khalidi is certain to bring across is the connection (or lack thereof )between the Arab National Movement and pan-Arabism. He explains that “it is notthe case that Arab nationalism was or is necessarily synonymous with pan-Arabism,that is, with the idea that all Arabs should live in a single great Arab nation-state”(Khalidi, 1991a); but rather it was a push to unite the Arab peoples together intoone conscience.

The onset of Khalidi’s work places him in a unique position regarding the con-struction of his own assessments, with his writings spanning from the 1980s to thepresent day. The publication of coedited work with Dawn, The Origins of ArabNationalism, in 1991 (Khalidi 1991b) was published in a landmark era that couldnot have gone without affecting his views on the origins of Arab nationalism. Notonly did it mark the end of the Cold War, but it also was developed around the timeof the Madrid Peace Conference in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict’s peace process.As an advisor for the Palestinian delegation as well as an American of Palestinianorigin, his shift toward looking at Arab nationalism through a more region-specificlens becomes more understandable. With his ties and work on Palestinian national-ism, it is easy to see how the cultural need for explaining the objectives of the Pales-tinian Liberation Organisation, thereby Palestinian nationalism, would have playedinto his research concerning the topic. Additionally, the book debuted in the wakeof the Gulf War, an event that acted as a pivot for the West’s refocusing of energiesfrom Russia toward the Middle East.

As the most contemporary contributor, Israeli historian Fruma Zachs arguablyhas the most syncretic view of the Protestant missionaries and illustrates them asmisrepresented (Zachs, 2001, 2005a, 2005b). Although they may not fulfill theglowing portrait Antonius painted for them, they served a different yet profoundpurpose. Therefore, within her analysis, the Americans embody an alternative, posi-tive role that acknowledges their contributions without exaggerating their position.Zachs writes that the American missionaries working in the area “significantlyhelped define and promote a concept of ‘Syria’ ” and that “it comes as somewhat of asurprise that this aspect of the American missionaries’ activities has so far receivedlittle or no attention” (Zachs, 2005b). She remarks that, unlike Antonius’s depiction,



“the activities of the Beiruti society did not mark the beginning of the ArabNational movement . . . , but actually constituted the end of a long, continuousprocess that had started at the beginning of the nineteenth century” (Zachs, 2005b),which became the dawning of a new conceptualization of Syrian identity. In heropinion, this is the crowning achievement of the missionaries (Zachs, 2005b).

While there were difficulties in navigating the Judeo–Christian significancebehind the term “Syria,” the name itself predated Islam, and therefore was able tobend to a secular agenda that could bring Muslims into the concept of the Syriannation. This addresses the issues raised by Haim and Dawn because it explains theeffective nature of the Society of Arts and Sciences and grants them credit for theirexploits and cooperation with their Muslim counterparts in the larger ArabNational Movement. Zachs titles this syncretism a “cultural-semiotic construct, suc-cessful almost by default” (Zachs, 2005b), thus placing the missionaries within thescope of promoting a viable, localized nationalism, although not great contributorsto the larger Arab National Movement. The argument that the members of thissociety “took up and further developed the American missionaries’ concept of Syria,. . . [and] turned it into the linchpin for the construct of Syrian wataniyya” (Zachs,2001) is the crux of Zachs’s own analysis. From this point, she rebuilds the reputa-tion of the missionaries as a foreign presence that developed a local conscience, andultimately contributed to the Syrian communities in which they lived.

Zachs attributes to Eli Smith the role of a joint member of the promotion of theBeiruti literary circles, due to his genuine interests in the region and proactiveengagement in the question of the makings of “Syria.” While the connectionbetween the Protestant missionaries and their Christian Arab pupils has been bothoverly praised and intensely criticized, she explains that “the relationship betweenAmerican missionaries and the local population was more complicated than thatexpressed” because “the missionary’s attitude toward the region and its people waschanging and flexible, due to the American missionary’s own individual shifts inattitude” (Zachs, 2005a). Certainly, her commendation is appropriate, because oneonly has to look at the meticulous work Smith conducted in the study of the regionand its peoples to ascertain the depth of his knowledge and understanding. Whenreading the joint account of Smith and Edward Robinson’s journey through theLevant, Smith’s sympathy and efforts can be found throughout the text (including afootnote made by Robinson, where Smith commended the logic of an Orthodoxpriest [Robinson & Smith, 1856]).

Zachs represents a shift in focus as well as the complexity of the current situationin the Middle East. As an Israeli–Jewish scholar, as well as writing in the aftermathof the terrorist attacks in the United States on September 11, 2001 and during theSecond Intifada in Israel and Palestine, her position on understanding nationalistaspirations is both vital and immediately relevant to her position in Israeli society.Hers could also perhaps be considered one of the most judicious accounts concern-ing the role of the Protestant missionaries in relation to Arab nationalism, although

Spring 2014

Borders 97

she strongly contends it was only Syrian identity that they helped develop. This har-kening toward Syria is also highly relevant to her situation, due to the ongoingdebate about the validity of the Palestinian nation as well as their ties with neigh-boring Arab countries and people. For Zachs, there is great social significance inhow she conceptualizes Arab nationalism and its ties, or lack thereof, to outsideentities. Depending on her position, her findings can be used to justify or oppose theactions of both ideological and governmental movements. Because history is sohotly contested in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, no academic is free from politicalobligation. Her criticism of Antonius’s political aims is hypocritical at best, becauseher position as an Israeli academic does not afford her such luxuries as the prover-bial scholastic ivory tower and her every move is categorized as an act of conscioussignificance.

In light of the critiques of respective historians studied here, it is important toexplore the overall implications of their construction of narrative and how thatrelates back to the criticism laid against Antonius. There is certainly a clear dividebetween the earlier and later scholars, the former approaching the topic through thelens of pan-Arabism, while the latter looks at the origins of Arab nationalism inmore localized terms. The issue of the Protestant missionaries is very much sub-jected to cultural norms and opinions of each time period. The individuals who wereprioritized in each narrative are immediate reflections of the historian’s position inrelation to society; and act as answers to the demands for knowledge according tocontemporary needs.

It is remarkable to see the divide between the first two historians, Haim andDawn, and the last, Khalidi and Zachs. Unlike some historiographical debateswhere lines that divide schools of thought are blurred and more difficult to separate,these groups of scholars are starkly contrasted with one another. Not only does thedifference of time period divide them, but also, with the end of the Cold War andthe introduction of Edward Said’s groundbreaking work on Orientalism, comes amore profound reevaluation of the origins of Arab nationalism. The change of cir-cumstances, both politically and scholarly, had exceptional impact on the way thesehistorians viewed this event and their subsequent evaluations of it.

Famous for his critiques on construction of knowledge, Said viewed the historyof the Middle East as a fertile ground for creating a narrative suiting the Westernpowers rather than accurately representing the indigenous populations and can beconsidered a sort of culmination of White’s ideas (1973, 1987). Said’s most famoustheory, known as Orientalism, is the concept that the West objectifies the popula-tions of the Middle East under the guise of scientific method, both consciously andnot. Using the example of the colonizing powers in the Middle East, he demon-strated the double standard used in forming narratives about the Arab World.

Concentrating on the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Said focused on theEuropeans who travelled to the Middle East and claimed their accounts of theindigenous populations were made according to scientific standards, consequently



lending them the credibility of lacking bias. However, he challenged their assump-tions of native inferiority against their proclaimed enlightened, Western superioritybecause they did not take into consideration the dehumanizing nature of theirclaims. Plainly stated, the “reconstructive precision, science, even imagination [of theOrientalist] could prepare the way for what armies, administrations, and bureaucra-cies would later do on the ground, in the Orient” (Said, 1994); thus, exposing theideology’s potency.

Said explains that Orientalism “can be understood, not as sudden access of objec-tive knowledge about the Orient, but as set of structures inherited from the past . . .which in turn were naturalized, modernized, and laicized substitutes for . . . Chris-tian supernaturalism” (Said, 1994). Thus, this knowledge produced under theOrientalist mentality is in fact a construction of knowledge based on the individualvalues of those who produced them. This inherently excludes the viewpoint of theindigenous person, who is deemed incapable of properly comprehending his sur-roundings, and therefore possesses an incomplete opinion. This dispossesses thenative the right to historical narration, among other things. What exists here is abattle of narratives, each version claiming objectivity due to their respective posi-tions. Said’s works have set off in modern academics an awareness of how the pastcan (and has been) used as a tool for justification in relation to Western colonialismin the region itself. Although there is heated debate surrounding his theory ofOrientalism, it has cultivated a suspicion toward previous historical accounts andchallenged modern historians to question their objectivity.

But because of its supposed proximity to “scientific method,” records madeunder Orientalist influence were (and can still be) deemed objective. However, thisdoes not go unchallenged. Those subjected to such presumptions do not all agreewith the conclusions made by these occupying powers and therefore create acounter-narrative, thus destroying this assumption of fair judgment. The twoopposing accounts look to different sources of authority and thus both claimscientific justification; yet, in actuality, both defer to powers pre-constructedaccording to their own positions within events. This represents what Whitedeemed the best manner to counteract a bad narrative, by providing one to chal-lenge and out-best it.

The onset of Said’s ideas provided a huge shift in the conceptualization of theorigins of Arab nationalism. Although Dawn had to address this theory toward theend of his career, it was a preestablished context for both Khalidi and Zachs. There-fore, even if these latter historians had chosen to agree with the more traditionalinterpretations, they were always pressed to address Said’s ideas, whereas Haim andDawn did not. Furthermore, no longer faced with the looming Soviet threat ofinfluence, Khalidi and Zachs were placed into a new category of historians thatfocused on the newly conceptualized “other” in the mind of the West—the MiddleEast. However, with Said’s view on how the West has previously constructed itsknowledge of this region, these academics were confronted with the responsibility to

Spring 2014

Borders 99

challenge this so-called threat and reimagine the seemingly unknowable ArabWorld.

Furthermore, from Said’s postulations, the inherent cultural relativism of eachhistorian can be seen with more clarity. As previously stated, Haim, Dawn, Khalidi,and Zachs could be fully removed from the politicization of which they so vehe-mently accused Antonius. Whether by choice or circumstance, their respective“stories” of Arab nationalism are products of the similar motivations to that ofAntonius rather than free from such explicit purposes. Condemnation made againstthose who write with intention and purpose cannot be made without careful consid-eration. With Antonius not even attempting to portray himself as the final or bestauthority on Arab nationalism, it is noteworthy that he would be so intensely scru-tinized without taking those same critiques and reflecting them inward. Careful andthorough examination of all academics and their works should be encouraged andcarried out, but to criticize for writing with integrity for the purpose of filling asocial need does not carry much weight. While it is valid to study a subject for itsown sake, it is equally permissible to look at the past to better understand currentsituations. As this article has demonstrated, it is tacitly and openly done in modernscholarship.

Conclusions

The journey to writing an affective narrative is one fraught with much toil andexposure to assessment from every angle. In seeking to illustrate an event as it was, itis easy to assume that investment in outside interests can taint this pursuit.However, this is not necessarily the case, and can in fact coexist as a means of reach-ing a broader understanding of history being analyzed. Unlike A. Dirk Moses’s(2005, 2007) protestation that a thing must be studied for its own sake, it has beendemonstrated here that such statements are contradictory because such separationcannot be fully carried out.

Although the question of who initiated Arab nationalism continues to thepresent day, at the heart of this dissertation lies the deeper question of historicalconstruction. The issue of the role of the Protestant missionaries is not so impor-tant as how the individual historians view and rationalize their opinions. It is inthis study where the theme of an academic’s relation to the usage of his or hertext can be found. From the present discussion’s position in the tradition ofHayden White’s (1973, 1987) theories, it can be seen that the purpose of a his-torical text lies in its relation to the world in which it will be distributed. Whetherconsciously or not, historians construct their narratives to respond to societal needsto render their work relevant.

However, in order for a text to be presented before a given population, properlegitimacy must be attached to the scholar that produced it to be considered a cred-ible source. In the case of George Antonius, the legitimacy granted to him lasted



only so long as The Arab Awakening remained culturally relative and of immediateapplicability. Once nationalism began to be regarded with suspicion, so too, did heand his book come under scrutiny. Furthermore, his position as a former politicianand associate of Western institutions begged the question of his allegiance in spiteof his clearly nationalist tendencies. Consequently, both he and his book’s goodstanding in the eyes of academics were lowered; and while he remains a seminalscholar of Arab nationalism to this day, his outlined theories are seen more asexamples of skewed information than sources of knowledge. Antonius’s legitimacyhas been measured in regard to his position in society and how he chose to channelhis academic works, therefore posing the issue of whether or not a scholar can bepolitical without damaging the integrity of his or her narrative. The discussion con-cerning the criticism laid against Antonius sheds light on how the historians’ accu-sations were actually indicative of their own leanings and beliefs.

This leads to the final issue concerning the purpose of historical texts. As demon-strated through the discussion of Haim, Dawn, Khalidi, and Zachs and their respec-tive narratives, it is seen that conceptualizations of a topic can be influenced byoutside factors affecting the individual historians. In the case of the origins of Arabnationalism, the historical narratives have been constructed to respond to contem-porary issues of the eras in which they lived. It is in this vein that, although notalways intentionally, their views are responses to the world around them and there-fore influence their construction of knowledge. The way in which they depicted theorigins of Arab nationalism demonstrates veins of thought that were circulating atthe time of their publication. By studying these answers and looking at the broaderissues of the respective eras in which each historian wrote, the importance ascribedto their writings lies in their ability to be culturally relevant.

While seeking to embody the most accurate representation of the past, historianscannot avoid this draw to cultural relativity. As illustrated, one must understand hisor her position as an academic in relation to society to fulfill a greater need thansimply producing knowledge. Although scholarship calls for removal from society tobetter judge it, to be unattached is a danger in and of itself. The nature of an aca-demic’s position is to learn and translate that information to those surrounding;thereby acting as agents of social exchange. The proverbial ivory tower cannot, andshould not, grant a more complete understanding of a topic simply due to an appar-ent lack of conflicting interests.

Although the importance of a historian’s connection with their respective societ-ies continues to be debated, there is space for vicissitudes to be made concerningtheir level of participation. Without the connection between the educated and thoseseeking to affect change, there is ultimately greater risk for misunderstanding andconflict. In order for these concepts to be implemented, standards of scholasticintegrity must also be accordingly created and set in place to guard from abuse ofnarrative and the information relayed. Every scholar is responsible for the knowl-edge he/she disseminates because it always has the possibility of altering the course

Spring 2014

Borders 101

of decisions made, whether on local, national, or international levels. The academiccannot be removed from society, nor can society be removed from the academic.History affects all people in everyday life and should therefore be allowed to haveconnection with those who create its future.

Reflecting on the arguments presented here, the article title’s postulation con-cerning the proselytization of nationalism embodies more than just a sense of therole of the Protestant missionaries. It also represents the collision of ideals describedin The Arab Awakening debate. Just as the missionaries’ presence and goals causedturmoil and change, so did the historians’ varying ideas concerning the origins ofArab nationalism conflict; all parties attempting to “proselytize” their own views.However, these interactions on cultural and intellectual levels also embody a sense ofresponsibility because of the inability to fully remove oneself from society or civicengagement.

If a better understanding is to be reached concerning the function of academicsand their works, a broader sense of civic engagement should be established. Further-more, there must be more open discussion concerning how professional scholarshipis used to inform society and by what standards should the practice be utilized sothat they suit a more contemporary framework. This polarization of those whochoose to create knowledge for its own sake and those who seek for their writings tobe of import to those beyond academia creates a divide that must be addressed andbridged. By doing so, more fruitful dialogue can be developed and perhaps createroom for compromise between the two seemingly opposite poles.

Notes

1. Eli Smith, together with Edward Robinson, wrote numerous reports concerning the peoplesand religions of both Syria and Egypt, leaving these accounts available to the AmericanBoard of Presbyterian Missions. Smith was also fluent in Arabic and established both boys’and girls’ schools throughout the region.

2. See Khalidi (1997) for further elaboration on mission schools and their ties with Palestiniannationalism.

References

Al-Bazzaz, A. R., & Haim, S. G. (1954). Islam and Arab nationalism. Die Welt des Islams, 3(3/4),201–218.

Anderson, B. (1994). Imagined communities. In J. Hutchinson & A. D. Smith (Eds.), Nationalism(pp. 89–96). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Antonius, G. (1969). The Arab awakening: The story of the Arab National Movement. Beirut,Lebanon: Hamish Hamilton.

Commins, D. D. (1990). Islamic reform: Politics and social change in late Ottoman Syria. Oxford:Oxford University Press.

Dawn, C. E. (1961). From Ottomanism to Arabism: The origin of an ideology. The Review ofPolitics, 23(3), 378–400.



Dawn, C. E. (1962). The rise of Arabism in Syria. Middle East Journal, 16(2), 145–168.

Dawn, C. E. (1991). The origins of Arab nationalism. In R. Khalidi, L. Anderson, M. Muslih, &R. S. Simon (Eds.), The origins of Arab nationalism (pp. 3–30). New York: Columbia UniversityPress.

Gellner, E. (1994). Nationalism and high culture. In J. Hutchinson & A. D. Smith (Eds.), Nation-alism (pp. 63–77). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Haddad, R. M. (1970). Syrian Christian in Muslim society: An interpretation. Princeton, NJ: Princ-eton University Press.

Haim, S. G. (1953). “The Arab awakening,” A source for the historian? Die Welt des Islams, 2(4),237–250.

Haim, S. G. (1976). Arab nationalism: An anthology. London: University of California Press.

Hobsbawm, E. (1994). The nation as an invented tradition. In J. Hutchinson & A. D. Smith(Eds.), Nationalism (pp. 76–83). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Hourani, A. (1985). The Arab awakening: Forty years after. In A. Hourani (Ed.), The emergence ofthe modern Middle East (pp. 193–215). London: The MacMillan Press.

Hutchinson, J., & Smith, A. D. (1994). Introduction. In J. Hutchinson & A. D. Smith (Eds.),Nationalism (pp. 15–17). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Ireland, P. W. (1939). The Arab awakening by George Antonius. The American Political ScienceReview, 33(4), 709–711.

Kedourie, E. (1994). Nationalism and self-determination. In J. Hutchinson & A. S. Smith (Eds.),Nationalism (pp. 49–55). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Khalidi, R. (1991a). Arab nationalism: Historical problems in the literature. The American Histori-cal Review, 96(5), 1363–1373.

Khalidi, R. (1991b). Ottomanism and Arabism in Syria before 1914: A reassessment. In R.Khalidi, L. Anderson, M. Muslih, & R. S. Simon (Eds.), The origins of Arab nationalism (pp.50–69). New York: Columbia University Press.

Khalidi, R. (1997). Palestinian identity: The construction of modern national consciousness. New York:Columbia University Press.

Moses, A. D. (2005). The public relevance of historical studies: A rejoinder to Hayden White.History and Theory, 44(3), 339–347.

Moses, A. D. (2007). Introduction. In A. D. Moses & D. Stone (Eds.), Colonialism and genocide(pp. vii–ix). London: Routledge.

Pappe, I. (2010). Fear, victimhood, self and other: On the road to reconciliation. In I. Pappe &J. Hilal (Eds.), Across the wall: Narratives of Israeli-Palestinian history (pp. 155–176). London:I.B. Tauris.

Robinson, E., & Smith, E. (1856). Biblical researches in Palestine and the adjacent regions: A journalof travels in the years 1838 & 1852. London: J. Murray.

Said, E. (1994). Orientalism. New York: Vintage Books.

S.W.B. (1947). The Arab awakening: The story of the Arab national movement by GeorgeAntonius. Jewish Social Studies, 9(2), 191–192.

The Arab Nationalist Movement; The Arab awakening: The story of the Arab national move-ment by George Antonius. (1939). Geographical Review, 29(3), 514.

Spring 2014

Borders 103

Tosh, J. (2002). The pursuit of history: Aims, methods and new directions in the study of modern history.London: Pearson Education.

Weber, M. (1994). The nation. In J. Hutchinson & S. S. Anthony (Eds.), Nationalism (pp. 21–26).Oxford: Oxford University Press.

White, H. V. (1973). Metahistory: The historical imagination in nineteenth-century Europe.Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press.

White, H. V. (1987). The content of the form: Narrative discourse and historical representation.Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press.

Zachs, F. (2001). Toward a proto-nationalist concept of Syria? Revisiting the American Presbyte-rian missionaries in the nineteenth-century Levent. Die Welt des Islams, 41(2), 145–173.

Zachs, F. (2005a). From the mission to the missionary: The Bliss family and the Syrian ProtestantCollege. Die Welt des Islams, 45(2), 255–291.

Zachs, F. (2005b). The making of a Syrian identity: Intellectuals and merchants in nineteenth century.Beirut, Lebanon: Brill.



proselytizing nationalism: protestant missionaries and the arab awakening debate

Documents