Trends in Arab Intellectual Thought
in the 1960s
Dr. Adel Daher
Four factors shaped Arab thought in the sixties. The first factor was the introduction and implementation of some form of socialism in the so-called "revolutionary Arab camp." This raised questions about the compatibility of socialism with Islam, what kind of socialism is Arab socialism and how does it differ from Marxist socialism. The second factor was the collectivist tendencies in some Arab countries which generated fear among certain intellectuals that the individual might be cast into a role predetermined by the state. Questions were raised about freedom and alienation resulting in outright revolt against so-called "technological and mass-oriented thinking." The third factor was the failure of Arab thinkers to come up with a coherent, secular ideology. The fourth, and by far the most important factor is the Arab-Israeli War of June 1967. The defeat of the Arabs touched off so immense wave of self-criticism that left nothing untouched in Arab life and thought and gave the Arab thinker a new perspective and s new direction.
This study describes the important questions and debates in Arab thought in the l960s and how they were influenced by the above-mentioned factors. First, it is necessary to outline the "old thought" as a background for our study.
Arab Nationalism and Arab Unity
From the late twenties to the early fifties a crisis of identity disturbed enlightened Arab intellectuals: a crisis of cultural, and more importantly, national identity. During that period intellectuals were preoccupied with these questions: Who are we? What is our cultural and national identity? Are we, as 'Arabs', one single nation, or different nations? This crisis of identity led automatically to more academic questions such as: What is a nation? What are the necessary and sufficient conditions that must be satisfied for a nation to exist? Is language a primary or a secondary factor in the formation of the nation-state? What about history? Or geography? Different answers were given to these questions and as a result different nationalistic ideologies were developed.
This crisis of identity was first felt deeply by Antun Sa'adeh, a social thinker from Lebanon. Sa'adeh, the founder of the Syrian Social Nationalist Party (SSNP), constructed an ideology of Syrian nationalism in which Syria, Iraq, Palestine, Lebanon, and Transjordan constituted one distinct nation within the Arab world. His ideas still influence young intellectuals in Lebanon and other parts of the Fertile Crescent.
Sa'adeh first raised the question, "Who are we?" and it was he who first embarked upon a systematic exploration of nationalism.(1) Sa'adeh felt his question to be paramount, and its answer was to be taken as an absolute given in the realm of political and social action. It was the cogito of the political and social system which Sa'adeh had been developing most of his life.
Sa'adeh, then, gave his question precedence over any other question in the realm of normative politics. Some might take the question, "Who am I?" as having primacy over other questions. Existentialists, for example, take the latter question very seriously. But in asking this question, Sa'adeh might have argued, we are immediately led, on reflection, from individual existence to social existence, For I am above all a social being. Being social is neither the result of personal choice nor an accidental attribute of myself, as a person.(2) I am a person means "I am a-being-in-a-society." There is some sort of a logically necessary connection between the two. If being social belongs to the very structure of my own personal existence, then the question, "Who am I?" must by necessity presuppose the question, "What is my society?" So in the final analysis we are confronted with the question, "What is the identity of my nation?" Moreover, an awareness of one's national identity is an absolute necessary condition for any positive action in the field of political and social reality.
Arab intellectuals, agreeing with Sa'adeh on the primacy of nationalism, began in the 1930s to develop all sorts of theories about nationalism, its meaning, and its implications. It was important to define the national identity of the Arab in the face of the particularistic tendencies among some Arabs. Moreover, an Arab awakening must be guided by certain goals, the most important being Arab unity. But for the latter to become the focus of the aspirations of all Arabs, it had to be justified and rationalized. This makes it clear why many Arab thinkers like Nabih Faria, Kusti Zureik, Sati al-Husri, and others were preoccupied with establishing a rational foundation for Arab unity.
Another factor, Islam, led some of these thinkers to engage in so effort to reconcile Arab nationalism with the universalism of Islam. They tried to define an Arab nationalism that would be consonant with the spirit of Islam.
What was the result of these intellectual efforts? To answer this question, let us take a brief look at Michel Aflaq's thought. Aflaq, a French-educated Syrian intellectual, exercised a considerable influence on the developing ideology of Arab nationalism. His influence has waned today especially in his own country where he is repudiated by the ruling Baath party he helped found. However, Aflaq made the first quasi-systematic attempt to develop Arab nationalism as an ideology. So in a sense we can say that the intellectual activities previously mentioned converged in his thought. Aflaq's philosophy is also one of the essential targets of many recent thinkers whose ideas we will examine.
Aflaq starts with the idea of Arab unity as an axiom. This idea, for him, requires neither rational justification nor analysis of any kind. He writes, "We did not have to think for long about investigating the foundations of the Arab nation, and whether ... it has the ties common to all its regions and peoples that justify its unity ... This is an obvious thing which imposes itself."(3) The idea of Arab unity, then, is like Descartes' clear and distinct ideas. It imposes itself on the mind. It is some sort of a pre-suppositionless beginning. As such everything else is either subsumable under it or derivable from it. "... Any theory and any attempt," he writes, "at dealing with Arab problems ... not stemming from the axiom of 'Arab unity' is a false theory and a harmful attempt."(4) Aflaq specifically states that freedom, humanism, socialism, and even scientific thinking and scientific achievement have no meaning for the Arab outside Arab nationalism. "The freedom and socialism sought after by an Egyptian or Lebanese party are different from the freedom and socialism that can be achieved by the Arab nation as a whole..,."(5) This means that although the doctrinal aspect could be the same in both cases, the value that should be attached depends on whether it is subsumable under Arab nationalism. Aflaq believes that Arabs can have no "clear" and "courageous" ideas about vital matters and not even the capacity to engage in scientific thinking without Arab unity.(6) In short, no value is meaningful for the Arab if not perceived through the lens of Arab unity.
In his attempt to define "Arabism" Aflaq moves in a metaphysical rather than ethical direction. "Nationalism," he says, "is fundamentally love."(7) Again, Arabism is to be taken as ultimate in a metaphysical or rather quasi-religious sense, "Arabism" transcends everything else, even "well-being,"(8) except for truth.(9) But one has to keep in mind here that although truth is above Arabism, only Arabism is "capable of scientific thinking and achieving it." "Arabism," then, is a necessary requirement for knowledge; that is, for understanding the world and for a systematic meaningful approach to facts. It bridges the gap "between truth, on the one hand, and human desire and fallibility on the other."(10) In this sense, "Arabism" is some sort of a quasi-religious principle that makes it possible for the Arab to lift himself to a "higher" level - truth.
Aflaq quasi-metaphysical thought can be seen again in his vague conception of unity, analyzed, following Aristotle, into "matter" and "form."(11) Unity, for Aflaq, is the "spirit" of the Arab nation and the body is socialism.(12) Unity, then, is no more than an idea incarnated in a body, or somewhat like an Aristotelian form. It informs matter, i.e., socialism.
The Place of Islam
Arab unity, to Aflaq, transcends not only socialism but also Islam, for Islam is only one of its characteristics. However, Aflaq "identifies the coming of Islam with the fact of the Arab national awakening."(13) Because of this the Arab, even the Christian Arab, has to seek his identity in Islam. Arabs must find in Islam their "national culture in which they must become absorbed Arabs must also seek some sort of a mystical rapport with the spirit of the prophet by conducting their lives according to the principles of the Koran.(14) Thus, Arab nationalism has s religious-ethical dimension ultimately based in Islam. Aflaq here seems to be siding with these semi-secular thinkers who want to "revolutionize" the social and political structure of Arab existence, but only within the general framework of Islamic values. Ultimately the Arab's revolutionary zeal must be guided by the precepts and ideals of Islam end consequently must stay within the boundaries of the Islamic spirit. This constraint was thought to be unavoidable by some Arab intellectuals, including Aflaq, because "being Arab meant being Moslem after the rise of Islam, and the connections between these two kinds of self-identification have persisted to this day."(15)
Arab nationalism and loyalty to Islam, then, had to be harmonized and made somehow ideologically interdependent. This fact, however, did not prevent the development of two opposing nationalist ideologies, namely Pan-Arabism and Pan-Islamism. Pan-Arabism, which predominates today, focuses on the objective of uniting all Arab-speaking people. Pan-Islamism seeks the unity of all Moslems, regardless of nationality, the ultimate goal being the establishment of a theocratic state. Pan-Islamism emerged on the scene as a movement not only distinct from Pan-Arabism, but also in many ways opposed to it. This indicates, according to Gibb, that "No matter how sincerely nationalists may profess their devotion to the doctrines and the ethical teaching of Islam, they are committed to setting up a second principle alongside it; and there is no way to avoid the resulting division and conflict of duties except by separating the spheres of church and state."(16)
Separating the two spheres for expediency was thought necessary by one Arab writer, Hazen, Nuseibah. He argued that the whole Arab civilization and history were pervaded by Islam. However, Islam introduces a divisive factor into the concept of Arab unity. Moreover, nation-building requires the exclusion of religion from the secular realm for it might become a barrier to modernization.
Other thinkers, however, saw things differently. Al-Bazzaz, an American educated Iraqi, argued that the objectives of nationalism and Islam can be harmonized for Arab nationalism is the first step in the direction of Pan-Islamism. Arabs are naturally linked through their common language and common history, whereas many barriers separate the Moslems from one another. In this way Arab unity can form an immediate goal within the spiritual framework of a unified Islam. Thus, the call to unite the Arabs becomes the necessary practical step for uniting the Moslems.(18)
We see, then, that different conceptions of Arab unity emerged depending on how one reconciled Arab nationalism with Islam. However, the tension between nationalism and Islam was not so sharply felt in the sixties as it had been earlier. By the 1960s, a different conflict, between socialism and Islam, disturbed Arab thinkers. This tension reached its apex after the June War when many intellectuals viewed Islam as the antithesis of socialism, whereas earlier they had tried to harmonize the two.
Hamid Enayat, an American-educated Iranian, in an article published in 1968 traces this tension to the following factors: First, the practical measures taken to implement socialism in some Arab countries (particularly Egypt and Syria) have affected the economic, political, and social systems in these countries. "Some of the measures have encroached upon the material interests of the Muslim orthodoxy such as the expropriation of the lands" (lands owned by the Moslem church). Second, Moslem clergymen have objected to certain socialism measures as violations of the moral principles of Islam.(19)
The nature of Islam has complicated this problem, too. "Traditional Islam," Berger correctly observes, "has been both a religious and political society; its code of behavior makes no distinction between the rules to be obeyed out of religious loyalty and out of political loyalty." Both loyalties "... are identical and inseparable in Islamic conception. What the West distinguishes as civic, political, social, religious, and moral obligations are in Islam all moral obligations deriving from a revealed religion."(20) Although there is now no confusion between political and religious institutions, the Koran and Tradition still provide answers to social and political questions for Moslems steeped in the "revealed" truths of Islam. Any answer to a political or social question must pass the religious test. Therein lays the seed of tension that exists between Socialism and Islam.
Three current intellectual trends competed with regard to Islam's compatibility with socialism. First, there were those who maintained that Islam could be made compatible with socialism, when the Koran is broadly interpreted to cope with contemporary Arab life. Second, there were those who contended that Islam is not only compatible with socialism, but that socialism in fact rests on Islamic principles. Third, there were those who saw Islam and socialism as being mutually exclusive. This third group, however, must be further divided into two sub-groups that differ radically: (a) Orthodox Islamic thinkers who believed that socialism does not pass the test of Islam, and (b) atheistic socialists, who began to gain strength after the June War, and who thought that Islam is irrelevant to present Arab problems, and that any attempt to reconcile socialism with religion is self defeating.
The thinking of the "establishment" in Egypt, if the Charter is any indication, seemed to fall under the first category. In the Charter of the United Arab Republic, we read the following: "The essence of religious messages does not conflict with the facts of our life."(21) And such a conflict is only the "result of attempts made by reactionary elements" against the "nature and spirit of religions" for the purpose of "impeding progress." Religion motivates progress, fur "the essence of all religions is to assert man's right to life and freedom. In fact the basis of reward and punishment in religion is equality of opportunity for every man... No religion can accept a system of class distinction.., (22) Whether the Charter was intended to give socialism a religious justification or not, it is clear that it authors acknowledge no conflict between socialism and religion. What stands out is an urgent desire to harmonize socialism and Islam.
This attitude is echoed by the Lebanese intellectual, Hassan Sa'ab, in his attempt to characterize Islam as the religion of "creative movement." Saab, an American-educated political scientist and a leading Arab opponent of an anti-Marxist ideology, found Islam in harmony with any social system or idea that represents "creative movement." Islam is a force for progress, when properly interpreted, even revolutionary progress. Sa'ab tried to establish his point by indicating that "God committed Himself to creating everything anew," and, therefore, a man genuinely committed to Cod is also committed to creating everything anew. "God created the universe for man, and made it incumbent on him to create it anew."(23)
Other intellectuals argued that Islam, in its present condition, could not cope with the problems of contemporary Arab society. Neither Islam nor Marxism, according to the Egyptian intellectual, Ismat Sayf ad-Dawlah, has provided us with adequate answers to our problems. Islam in particular has failed because its universalism transcends space and time. As a result, Islam's content does not answer specific problems that arise only in the here and now. This does not mean that Islam is to be discounted. On the contrary, we still need the "highest principles and goals that it has laid down for us for all times." But in addition to these eternal principles and goals we need something to "recognize as our own goal in this age."(24)
This remark points to the general tendency of many Egyptian theorists to reject Marxian socialism because it is atheistic. What is needed, according to one writer, is a form of socialism that gives appropriate recognition to "the influence of intellectual and spiritual factors on the evolution of history, society, and humanity," without denying "... the effect of matter and the economic forces on the evolution of history and human groups."(25) Here we see an attempt to move away from the atheistic-materialistic tendencies of Marxian socialism to a materialistic-idealist position which accommodates religion and, ultimately, reconciles socialism with Islam.
Other authors posed a different solution: they saw socialism as a synthesis between Capitalism and Marxism. "Arab socialism," they argued, "stands midway between Capitalism and Marxism." It represents a leap forward being the inescapable result of the Hegelian evolution of universal thought, "... which according to dialectical logic has moved from thesis to antithesis and then to a position in which the two contradictions are reconciled."(26) If the contradictions in the capitalist system gave rise to Marxism, these Hegelians insisted that the contradiction between Capitalism and Marxism will give rise to a new brand of socialism, namely Arab socialism. Arab socialism, then, is to be regarded as a "leap forward with regard to these opposite poles,"(27) that is, with regard to Capitalism and Marxism. Some authors argued that this leap forward will be possible only if Islam is somehow integrated into socialism. Arab socialism must synthesize not only Capitalism and Marxism, but integrate the scientific materialistic tendencies of Marxism with the spiritualism of Islam.(28)
Sayf ad-Dawlah raised the possibility that Islam can be given an effective role in the implementation of socialism as well as the construction of its doctrine. However, no attempt at disentangling any operative socialist principles from the doctrinal and legal body of Islam has been successful.(29) Therefore, the only alternative is a socialism to which "Islam contributes only a crust of moral values and a belief in God, but beneath this the bulk of the philosophical premises and notions of the system are borrowed from a cohort of Western thinkers ranging from Marx to some of the modern revisionists.(30)
All these thinkers seemed to agree, then, that Arab socialism can acquire a character of its own if we provide it with an idealistic framework resting on Islam's universal "valid" principles. The seeming incompatibility between Islam and Socialism was artificially created by reactionary religious thinkers wed to the status quo and opposed to socialism.
According to the Arab intellectuals under consideration, this solidarity between Islam and reaction stems from the Moslems' failure to incorporate their Islamic beliefs into personal structures and attitudes adapted to the exigencies of the Socialist Revolution. In short, socialism and the introduction of industrial technology belong to a new phase in Arab life to which the Moslem has not yet adapted. This situation can be corrected, however, by turning to the eternal values of Islam and incorporating them into personal habits adapted to the twentieth century.
For other Arab intellectuals, however, socialism was not only compatible with Islam, but derivable from it. For them, there seemed to be a logically necessary connection between the two. Muatafa as-Siba'i spoke for this group as the leader of the Moslem Brotherhood in Syria before his death. His ideas have found some acceptance outside the Moslem Brotherhood, especially among Arab Moslems looking for a non-Marxist alternative.
Siba'i first established to his own satisfaction the common element in all socialist doctrines.(31) He found this common element to be the state's control of the society's wealth and resources and "in realization of the mutual social responsibility for all the members of a society so that they can partake of a life in which human dignity and human confidence . .. are secured."(32) Next Siba'i established that this element common to all socialist doctrines is derivable from Islamic principles. He attempted to show this in a variety of ways. First, he argued that Islam guaranteed the nationalization of some categories of property. To support his claim he appealed to the prophetic tradition that people own three things in common, namely fire, grass, and water. Since these three constituted the major necessities of desert life, it follows that the prophetic tradition legitimized the communization of the necessities of life. Siba'i concluded that in view of this tradition all privately owned property must be communized, if leaving it in private hands could endanger the public welfare. Siba'i also appealed to a Koranic rule that irresponsible people must be stripped of their right of ownership and their property communized. The Koran prescribes, too, that property and wealth should not be concentrated in few hands. Siba'i interpreted this latter rule as the Islamic rationale for a just distribution of wealth. Siba'i draws the conclusion that Islam sanctions the universal socialist principle of state ownership in the interest of the general welfare of the group.(33)
In connection with what Siba'i called "the laws of mutual social responsibility," Islam requires all the members of a society to share this responsibility with the state carrying the heaviest load. This responsibility involves, first and foremost, the securing of justice and a life free of poverty for all men. Siba'i appealed here to 29 laws that were all derived from sources such as the Koran and religious tradition providing a sanction for such a responsibility. These laws, for him, provide us with the theoretical underpinning for state interference in the affairs of social groups, if that is deemed necessary for promoting a just society.(34) For Siba'i Islam is more than compatible with socialism: it embodies the theoretical underpinning of socialism as well as the sanctions for implementing its aims.
Another Syrian intellectual saw the issue quite differently. Salah ad Din al Munajjid(35) published a book after the June War, arguing that one of the main reasons for the Arab defeat is the Arabs' aversion to Jahilyya (pre-Islamic ignorance). This shows itself in their ruler-worship, in their sensuality, in their pursuit of wealth - in short, in the Arabs' abandonment of the spiritual values of Islam. According to Munajjid, the Arabs replaced the spiritualism of Islam with materialistic socialism and "ignorant" nationalism, both of which belong to Jahilyya thought.
Why do socialism and nationalism belong to the period of pre-Islamic ignorance? The Egyptian religious thinker, Sayyid Qutb, who was an influential leader of the Brotherhood in Egypt, argued that socialism (or any other man-made social or political system) ignores the moral salvation of man. These systems focus only on the material aspect of life, on material success and social welfare, but no material progress is possible without the purification of man's soul, This gives the impression that if Islam provides us with the moral purification and socialism provides the basis for material success and social welfare, then by combining both we will have the beat of all possible worlds.
Qutb, however, rejected any attempt to reconcile or integrate socialism with Islam. The reason is not that he found no "socialistic" elements in Islam. On the contrary, he agreed with Siba'i that the "mutual social responsibility" advocated by Islam can involve problems arising from injustice and poverty. Again, he did not consider the right of ownership as inalienable as did most orthodox religious thinkers.(36) One should not, however, confuse the divine order with secular systems of any kind.(37) Islam belongs to a divine order which is by necessity irreducible to any man-made order. An unbridgeable gap separates the divine and the man-made. Each represents a self-contained form of life, and, therefore, there is no possibility for synthesis or even overlap between the two orders, Islam cannot be interpreted in socialistic terms. Nor can it be translated into democratic or capitalistic terms. It is what it is and nothing else, There can be no integration between Islam and any other secular system whether socialistic or otherwise.(38)
Qutb's argument, though attractive to many orthodox Moslem intellectuals, seemed quite weak to others. There is an aspect of Islam that has to do with human affairs, and the application of this aspect to society may clash or cohere or overlap with man-made solutions. It is thus difficult to acquiesce in Qutb's contention that Islam is absolutely irreducible - a self-contained form of life.
The Crisis of Modernization
So far we have concentrated on socialist and nationalist trends in Arab thought and on the attempt to reconcile both with Islam. Another major trend, dominated basically by young Arab intellectuals, involved nationalism and socialism, yet had other major concerns. This younger trend focuses the quality and character of Arab ideology and institutions. It represents an over-all review of the dominant factors in Arab life, both ideological and cultural.
Three main intellectual sources stimulated this trend: Marxism, humanism, and existentialism. Some Arab intellectuals measured the supernaturalistic tendencies in Arab thought against Marx's emphasis on scientific socialism and his critique of religion and idealism. From the humanistic tradition, some of them adopted the Kantian dictum "Man must be treated as an end in himself" along with the humanistic view of man as the sole criterion for good and evil. Some intellectuals applauded Kierkegaard emphasis on subjectivity and inwardness; following Kierkegasrd, Marcel, and Unamuno, they were suspicious of collectivism and share Camus' contempt for abstraction.
Regardless of the philosophical tradition that had inspired these intellectuals, revolt against the past tied them together. This revolt manifested itself first in a sharp awareness of the uprootedness was reflected in the quality of Arab nationalism as an ideology, the quality of Arab life in general, and the political and social climate of this life. These intellectuals agreed that the Arab needs new roots, a new system of beliefs, a new spiritual and cultural climate for his growth. The Arab, on the one hand, reveres is past so much that he is too stifled to look for a future. His whole social and cultural existence is permeated by a ubiquitous, decadent value-system. On the other hand, the political systems that rave been introduced to the Arab world in the name of nationalism and socialism had intensified his uprootedness. These systems have crippled the Arab in his search for his true identity and a new existence. An ugly, oppressive collectivism based on mass propaganda has been introduced. The individual has become submerged in a nameless, faceless mass, and his identity is constantly eroded by collectivistic abstractions.
These feelings were first translated into concrete terms by George Sfeir, in his well balanced study "The Need For Roots."(39) Sfeir, a Palestinian Arab who lived in the United States, was an advocate of Syrian nationalism. His ideas considered here, and especially his criticism of the Arab nationalist ideology, are shared by a number of young intellectuals.
Sfeir argued that "the essence of 'Arabism' today on the individual as well as on the national level, expresses itself in a need for roots. The Arabs suffer in their modern life from a crisis of uprootedness."(40) He defined "uprootedness" as "the lack of spiritual- moral-material ... roots ... of the type that ties the group to its vital environment and implants in its national awareness new ideals for its life, systems and institutions."(41) After examining the ideas of leading Arab intellectuals like Zureik, Karnhawi, Fans, Aflaq, and others, he came to the conclusion that these intellectuals understood "modernization in the sense of imitation." The pattern is the past, and the model is Western civilization. Most of these intellectuals were aware of the crisis of uprootedness, but they failed to see that revolt was the solution for this crisis. Western civilization, as he saw it, had solved a similar crisis: "the [Ages] followed the principle of acquiescence, acquiescence in the then-present system, and worked at its justification, while the [rested its case on revolt."(42) "The only difference," he wrote, "between one Arab thinker and another is the extent to which each had gone to reconcile between the new secular idea ... and religious tradition."(43) None of them succeeded in establishing a new frame of orientation, because none of them succeeded in freeing himself from the old frame of orientation. So, Arab thought is, at best, heretical. What was required, for Sfeir, however, was not mere heresy, but total revolt.
In another line of his argument, Sfeir emphasized the one necessary consequence of uprootedness: alienation. "Our uprootedness," he argues, "means the absence of any contact between man and reality of his existence."(44) Humans need vital roots that are nourished with "freedom, truth, security," etc. But "in the desert the Arab existence there is nothing but the "idea of history" for to play with in his spiritual emptiness."(45) History, in the dictionary of apologetic Arab thought, is no more than a decadent, dying past. History thus understood acts as a "psychological barrier that prevents the sap of new life from flowing into the existence of the Arab."(46)
This "psychological barrier" is not the only thing that is holding the Arab back and alienating him. Sfeir found another factor holding the Arab back and alienating him in the emphasis Arab leaders placed on "technological thinking." This kind of thinking operates with abstract categories; it recognizes nothing but the mass, the collectivity. It is, as Sfeir put it, "based on quantity and expansion."(47) He argues that "modern technology and the industrial mass society generated by it worked at alienating Western man from his human condition to become merely a tool in a factory, a member in an organization, an individual in a group."(48) The industrial-technological revolution in the West, however, came as the culmination of profound social changes following a series of political and social upheavals that shook Western man to his roots. Although Western man entered the technological age when he was ready, it alienated him. Arab, however, is called upon to join the technological age without the cultural vitality necessary to incorporate the values of this into personal structures and habits in his new world of machines and things. This places his self in double jeopardy, and alienates it beyond all limits.
The Arab renaissance has begun - not by a social revolution, not by breaking away from the decadent past - but by entrusting destiny to the "engineers of matter ... militarists to builders." "Engineers of the soul" are totally absent from the scene, while the Arabs are still at the beginning of their awakening.(49) What stands out clearly, according to Sfeir, is that this total emphasis on "technological thinking" marked a gross misunderstanding of the crisis of modernization. This lack of understanding left the Arab uprooted and alienated from his human condition. "The Arab has died so that Arab unity shall rise. He has been overwhelmed by its immense waves, and with his death came the death of Arab thinkers and their replacement by engineers and militarists.(50)
Sfeir's emphasis on revolt, alienation, uprootedness, set the tone for a new phase in Arab thought, epitomized by the poetry and thought of Adonis (Ali Ahmad Sa'id). Adonis, a Syrian resident of Lebanon, who is one of the most important Arab poets, was affiliated with Sa'adeh's ideology of Syrian nationalism, like Sfeir. His ideas, however, had little influence within Syrian nationalist circles. In The Songs of Mihiar, the Damascene,(51) he constructed a fresh, vivid character in revolt, with whom he identified. Adonis' embracement of revolt can he understood against the general attitude of revolt on the part of many young poets. The revolt of the poets started with a search for new forms of expression and new themes. This revolt against literary traditions, however, was possible only after the young Arab poet had developed a new attitude toward the past, a new outlook diametrically opposed to the habits of thought that still dominate Arab life. Adonis clearly understood the connection between the break with the old techniques and forms of poetic expression and the rejection of the past in its entirety. Modern Arab poetry must rest on vision. "Vision," he wrote, "is in its nature a leap beyond established ideas. It is, therefore, a change in the system of things and in the conceptual framework from within which we look at them."(52) Again, in the very art in which "... Modern Arab poetry transcends the closed and ordered world lies its contempt for the foundations on which out life rests, and its belief in a world that has not been known yet."(53)
Adonis' revolt against the past naturally leads to an obsession with the future (the "unknown' in his language). This figures even in his conception of knowledge, which he cryptically describes as "what we do not know yet." Thus, freedom is not a right within the framework of what is "already known and cannonized and no more." On the contrary, "freedom is first and foremost, to exercise the right to investigate, to create, to revolt, to transcend; it is to exercise what we have not exercised yet."(54)
Adonis' conception of freedom and knowledge leads him to agree with Sfeir's suspicions of revolutionaries who are merely "heretics," that is, who simply work to reform what is already established and "cannonized." These people, for Adonis, are not exercising the right to knowledge and freedom because their margin of choice is absolutely limited by the old value system within which they are operating. So, here they have abandoned their right to be free. Not only have they abandoned their right to knowledge and freedom, but they have also become anti-historical. "Aren't we in effect against revolution," Adonis asks, "when our revolt merely exemplifies, the old behavior and thought...? Aren't we outside history ... when our revolt has the force of a past that has become incapable in its entirety ... of providing answers to our problems, incapable of even adapting to them?"(55)
That quotation captures an idea which acquired the force of an axiom among many young Arab intellectuals, namely a tendency to reject any reconciliation with the past. This is apparent in Sfeir's denunciation of what he termed "apologetic thinking" that is "heretical" at best.
The revolt of the poets - Adonis in particular -- was not simply a revolt against the past. It was also a revolt against what Sfeir called "technological thinking" with its emphasis on quantity, the collectivity, the ultimate value of science and reason behind it. In a sense it was an anti-rationalistic revolt. Yusuf al-Khal, the Lebanese founder of the poetry magazine, Shi'r, argued that for many people science has become a "tyrant" with its own "slaves," at the expense of the "engineers of the soul," the poets, the philosophers, the artists, etc.(56)
Mihyiddin Muhammad, an anti-establishment Egyptian writer who commanded considerable respect in literary and intellectual circles, argues that science rests on the absolute validity of reason. Reason, however, is concerned with the universal and not the particular.(57) Therefore it tends to abstract the existence of man. But man cannot be subsumed under universal judgments. He cannot "reject his instincts and his individual self."(58) Besides, the history of science has amply shown the relativity and instability of science. So, we can no longer put our absolute trust in reason on which science is based.
Contemporary civilization, Muhammad argued, with its embracing of technological thinking, has transformed man into a "tool" or a "thing" and thus alienated him.(59) Each civilization, in its own way, has tried to abstract man's existence by subsuming him under some depersonalized principle. In the past he was pushed aside in favor of God or nature or reason. In the age of technology man is being pushed aside in favor of a depersonalized world of machines and things. He has become simply the 'mechanical man.(60) Man, however, has eluded any attempt at abstracting his existence due to his "personal capacity to reject any form preceding his existence."(61) This capacity makes man free, and his freedom defeats any attempt at alienating him.
In reaction to the collectivity implied by total ideologies and rigid systems in the Arab world, these intellectuals revolted against mass-oriented thinking and abstraction. This revolt echoed to a large extent Camus' thought with all its irrational despair of scientific thinking and theorizing. Camus claimed not to "believe enough in reason to believe in a system."(62) His "method of avoiding the generalizations and abstractions which he took to be politically murderous was to emphasize men rather than society and doubt and error rather than truth."(63)
It is worth noting that this suspicion of scientific and rational thought could also be seen on the other side of the Arab intellectual fence. "These thinkers," according to Grunebaum, "have shown a great deal of suspicion of theorizing." This mistrust originates "in the old skepticism exhibited by the Arab regarding the ability of human reason to cope with theological problems,"(64) a skepticism that came to the fore in the first great theological debate of Islam. Aflaq, for example, viewed nationalism as something that eludes any definition or abstraction, because theory somehow "deadens and leads to inaccuracy."(65) The Egyptian, Anwar as-Sadat, before he became President, echoed the same anti-theoretical attitude explicitly rejecting purely rational systems.(66)
There is a considerable difference, however, between the suspicions of the older intellectuals and those in revolt. Aflaq, as-Sadat, and others were indeed not prone to scientific thinking and theorizing with regard to the meaning and implications of nationalism. However, their thinking put absolute emphasis on the fact that man is essentially a being-in-a-society, a being-in-a-nation, a being in-a-system. Man's existence, then, is abstracted by these thinkers and defined in terms of general categories (what Camus would term "general ideas" or Simon Weil would call "empty ideas"). It is exactly this tendency that the intellectuals of revolt fought against. Man, according to Adonis, does not simply and solely "exist in a society or an ideology" or a system of any kind. He "exists above all in freedom."(67) The Arab, however, is losing his early individualism by incorporating himself into a nameless, faceless collectivism. "He no longer rises against the other, whether it is in the form of society or an absolute closed system, or the universe itself." The only virtue for the Arab today is to lose himself in "the current of collectivism."(68)
A new intellectual trend had begun to emerge which must be sharply demarcated from older attitudes. A philosophy of revolt had begun to crystallize, and the new intellectual moved closer and closer to a radical existential position. We begin to see The Eligo ("I choose therefore I am") figuring in this attitude of revolt, and its ultimate concern with individual existence and with man as the locus of all values. Kierkergaatd's, Schelter's, and Marcel's contempt for mass-communications and collectivism was also apparent.
Post-June 1967 Debates
The conclusion to be drawn from this discussion is that the young Arab intellectual was far more radicalized than his liberal and semi-liberal predecessors. This trend is all the more obvious in the writings of young Arab intellectuals after the June War. However, existentialism with its anti-rationalistic implications was absent from these writings by the intellectuals of revolt. And this is all to the good. Nevertheless, they reiterated their contempt for the past and for any ideological reconciliation with it. They continued to subject everything in Arab life and thought to constant review and criticism. One writer challenged Arab intellectuals to engage actively and honestly in "constant criticism and constant self-review." From now on, he wrote, "there ought to he no subjects beyond discussion" and "no facts to be concealed or overlooked or ignored." We must approach our problems with an attitude that is totally alien to "any form of finalism or authoritarianism."(69)
These recent writings were guided by one major premise: contemporary Arab life and thought are devoid of any positive qualities. The Arab is a prisoner of his past and a prisoner of ideologies that do not touch his true life. More specifically, he is the captive of an outmoded religious attitude and the victim of false ideals. He lives in a vicious circle: he seeks a new and meaningful future, but his eyes are focused on what lies behind him; he searches for a new system and order while the old system distorts his vision. His thought is still in the primitive moral and supernatural phase; it does not yet approach scientific thinking. In short, Arab life is wrapped in a paradox and pervaded through and through by principles and ideals that are life-stultifying rather than life-promoting.
This condition of the Arab was nowhere more obvious than in the June Arab-Israeli War. This confrontation exposed the fragile nature of the Arab's institutions and his own character. The intellectual witnessed the wide gap that separates the infra structures of Arab life from its super-structures. Arab armies lacked neither the techniques nor the machinery of modern warfare. It was the character the Arab, not his war-machine, that proved to be inadequate. The Arab as a fighter, as a decision-maker, as a leader, as a member of an organization or military unit, as a human being failed. And what lay behind this failure was the cultural horizon encompassing his existence - the degenerate quality of his life and thinking.
Nowhere has this point figured more prominently than in Sadek J. al-Azem's book, 'Self-Criticism After the Defeat.'(70) Azem, a Yale-educated philosopher from Syria, commanded considerable respect among young intellectuals on the Left. In his book he compared the Arab defeat with the Russian defeat by Japan in 1904. The similarity between the two lies in the fact that both were not simply and solely military defeats. Rather, in each case the defeat "was very closely and directly related to the economic, cultural, and scientific conditions" of the defeated.(71) One important condition discussed by Azem was the Arab's "tribalist" state of mind which has had many negative effects, during the war and after, on the Arab's psyche. It accounts, for instance, for the Arab's "scattered reactions in the face of the Israeli attack," as well as for his immediate migration from the occupied lands. The Arab's "tribalist" mentality, according to Azem, emerged clearly during the war and after, in the profound concern shown by the Arab for his family, to the definite exclusion of any concern for his threatened land.(72) A study conducted on Arab refugees by two American University of Beirut sociologists showed, among other things, that family relations among the Arab refugees were far stronger and more important than any nationalistic affiliation. Many of the Palestinians who left their occupied towns and villages, for example, did so only because they were concerned about their wives and daughters fearing that they might be raped by enemy soldiers.(73)
Another important condition discussed by Azem is "the Fahlawian character of the Arab." A Fahlawi is someone who incessantly seeks the easiest way possible to achieve a certain goal. His immediate concern is always to save face, to accomplish his job so that he won't be considered inept. A Fahlawi's initial reaction to s problem is utmost enthusiasm, but when he realizes the difficulties involved, his enthusiasm wanes.(74) Azem finds a perfect reflection of this in the Arab "revolutionary" attitude. In his revolt against his conditions, he initially looks and sounds like the most radical of all radicals. Nevertheless, his revolutionary zeal never goes beyond the political level. "It does not touch in effect the level of social relationships and their traditional fabric."(75) The Arab remains, in spite of his "revolutionary" attitude, grounded in his traditional existence in as far as his social relationships and family affiliations are concerned. His judgment and his general behavior remain rooted in his decadent value-system, the very target of his revolt. The paradox of the Arab, as a Fahlawi, lies in the fact that his revolutionary attitude is supposed to develop within a traditional and conservative framework.
This conservatism makes it impossible for the Arab to initiate things or willingly hold responsibility. On the battlefield, for instance, officers who were in charge of some of the Sinai military operations were incapable of making any significant decisions on their own without referring back incessantly to the high command. This, however, merely reflected the traditional patriarchal society in which they were brought up, where every decision has to be left to the "high command" (i.e., the father).
A third condition, Azem argued, was a missing human element that understands modern science and technology. The Arabs have not been able to produce this brand of human element, because "the interaction between Arab society and the modern industrial culture has been confined to merely benefiting from the fruits of modern science without touching its roots or achieving a serious understanding of its motivating forces or even adapting to the new ideas and values that it imposes on society and the individual."(76) In short, the Arab has been approaching modern science and technology with a value-system that is neither compatible with the implications of modern science and technology nor adaptable to their main fruit: industrialization.
This negative condition prompted Azem's attack on the semi-revolutionary, apologetic attitude of Arab thinkers and leaders. The Arab Socialist Revolution undeniably accomplished much in the fields of economic and political liberation. The June defeat, however, proved that the Socialist Arab Revolution was neither revolutionary enough nor socialist enough. On the one hand, Arab revolutionaries did not adopted a scientific, secular socialism, nor did they understand the deep connection between socialism and modern science. On the other hand, the Arab Revolution has not been clear- cut, for the Arab societies touched by this "revolution" (i.e., Iraq, Syria, and Egypt) were still grounded in the old value-system. In many cases, Arab intellectuals and leaders legitimized this value-system by trying to reconcile their thought with it.(77) Some of them, as we have seen, were still concerned about harmonizing socialism with Islam, and others were still intent on giving Islam a prominent place in the Arab awakening.
This brings us to another important issue in current Arab thought: the religious subjugation of the Arab mind. Many Arab intellectuals agreed that the beliefs of the Arab are super-naturalistic, and that such beliefs are the negation of revolution. To revolt means to seek radical change, but within the framework defined by man's relation to an absolute (God), everything is fixed, and, therefore, everything is the negation of change.(78)
The Egyptian British-educated philosopher, Zaki Najib Mahmud, who was best known in academic circles, summed up this attitude in the following way: "The Arab's outlook in its nature is that heaven has ordered and the earth is bound to obey, that the creator has planned and the creature has to be content with his lot, that the idea is immutable and reality has to force itself to reach it, and that if there arises a conflict between the here and now and the hereafter, the hereafter ought to be chosen."(79) This attitude, according to Mahmud, pervaded every aspect of Arab life. It even colored the Arab's relation to his ruler or superior: "the ruler wills and the people have to obey."(80)
This same attitude impeded scientific thinking, since occurrences are always tied to the will of Cod. "When something occurs," Mahmud argued, "the question is always: 'Who is responsible?' not 'How did it occur?'" It is a monistic attitude that ignores multiplicity and differentiation and sees in God's will the source and explanation of everything. The will, and not the reason behind it, is of primary importance. "The important thing is not to reason, but it is to will on condition that you have the power to execute your will."(81)
Similarly, the Arab's morality is deontological and not teleological: "duty and not happiness" is the foundation of his morality.(82) This is exactly why, Mahmud averred, his morality has a fixed character. If happiness is the goal, one can modify his moral principles or even replace them by others when this is deemed necessary for the fulfillment of one's happiness. But when duty is the goal, imposed on us by some absolute authority, either Cod or the ruler, the principles are fixed. As moral beings, we simply play the role already set for us by some absolute authority.(83)
This super-naturalistic-traditionalist attitude pervading every aspect of Arab life was the essential target of these post-war intellectuals. The Lebanese sociologist and social thinker, Nadim al-Bitar, was the most radical in his opposition to this attitude. Bitar, who was educated in both France and the United States, published his widely debated book, 'From Upset to Revolt' after the June War. In that book Bitar not only emphasized the importance of a secular ideology for the Arab, but he also attempted to develop such an ideology. He combined existentialist with Marxist ideas, drawing on concepts from Freud, Fromm, and the American pragmatists, too.
Bitar's basic premise is that for social thought to be truly revolutionary it must reflect the objective reality of history. History, for him, is governed by strict general laws. The determinism presupposed in this, however, is not simply mechanical. Rather, t is dialectical determinism, in the sense that history, by empirical necessity, undergoes revolutionary leaps or changes from the lower to the higher. In short, it exhibits an upward movement. In this view, a revolutionary becomes "someone who tries to uncover he intentions of the future, and focuses his actions in the present on them." This is to say, that "revolutionary politics cannot be effective if intended to impose their desired values and intentions on history."(84) To be truly revolutionary, they must "direct themselves toward the forces active in history" to understand them and fulfill heir consequences. A revolutionary, then, is someone who understands the laws governing the upward movement of history and acts accordingly. Instead of acquiring a scientific understanding of the forces "active in history" and acting for the fulfillment of their consequences, the revolutionary Arab completely ignored these forces thinking that history can be subjected to his own interpretive whims.(85) The Arab's scientific state of mind ("moral state of mind" in Bitar's language) cannot be considered truly revolutionary.
Arab society, Bitar argued, is a "Godly society," defined as one that is allegedly "complete and ... not disposed to any kind of change." For, according to the principles of such a society, there is no distinction between the secular and the metaphysical, between law and ethics. "The word of God ... extends to everything, from matters of worship to economic, political, and social relationships." A society of this type is an anathema to change. What we have in such a society is an all-encompassing system permeating history, social life, and the universe. The fact that this system finds its basis in God means that it is final and, therefore, not open to change or modification. As long as the believer is committed to the values of such a society, he cannot "understand the world as it is, in an objective, independent-minded, scientific way."(86)
For these reasons, Bitar alleged, that the first battle of the European revolutionary was waged against religion; the Arab revolutionary must do likewise. Arab thought, however, (and here he seemed to be in perfect agreement with Sfeir), is "reformationary" and not revolutionary. The former tries "to reconcile between the continuity of traditional ideology and certain changes taking place within it, while the latter rejects this ideology and negates it."(87) To put it differently, the former is guided in its attempt at introducing new changes by the principles of the traditional ideology, while the latter rejects these principles themselves.
For Bitar, and his fellow intellectuals, then, the Arab must adopt a naturalistic-empiricistic attitude that sees no reality behind the experienceable and no forces behind the forces of matter. Modernization, consequently, necessitates the negation of the religious principles and forms of Arab life. The Syrian educator and leading theoretician of the Baath party, Abdullah Abd ad Da'im,(88) fully agreed with Bitar on this point. Ad-Da'im, a Sorbonne graduate, argued that the Arabs must abandon all forms of super-naturalist thinking and replace them by a scientific attitude toward the world and reality. As another writer put it, what is needed is not simply nationalization or an equal distribution of wealth or the adoption of Western technology, but rather, a social revolution that would make the implementation of socialist principles a meaningful one.(89)
Bitar, too, saw very clearly that revolution cannot arise in an ideological vacuum. If the Arab is asked to give his loyalty to a naturalistic-humanistic attitude, he must be provided with a new frame of orientation within which he may repudiate his old myths without any regrets. In short, you must provide an alternative to the religious attitude and the means to implement the aims necessitated by this alternative. A revolution is meaningful and effective only if there is a "revolutionary self," and a revolutionary self is possible only through an absolute commitment to a revolutionary ideology.
Not everybody, of course, is capable of achieving revolutionary selfhood autonomously. But the few who are capable of doing so are called upon to provide the Arab with the newly formulated ideology. This ideology must be "therapeutic" in a purely psychological sense, for man is tied to his traditional existence through subconscious factors over which he has no control.
The Arab, Bitar claimed in a Freudian vein, must become aware of these subconscious factors to transcend his traditional existence and become a revolutionary.(90) A revolutionary transformation is possible, then, only through a therapeutic process, and the implementation of the aims of this process is possible in turn only through a system that would have for its major goal the implantation of new revolutionary ideas in the Arab's mind to replace his religious and traditional beliefs.
Bitar did not clearly specify, however, the values of this revolutionary ideology. What is clear about his position though is that he favored a naturalist-empiricist attitude, which, for him, necessitated a commitment to scientific socialism as a total system of beliefs: This is the attitude of the future. History is moving toward a state where this attitude will prevail, regardless of man's desires in the present. The values we adopt now must be totally determined, then, by the direction of history which can be uncovered through our knowledge of present social and historical facts.
Conclusion
Our discussion of the trends in Arab thought in the 1960s has made obvious the following: Arab thinkers moved in a far more radical direction than their predecessors. There was no longer a desire to reconcile the present with the past. Even the early up-holders of so-called "Arab-socialism" who extended a conciliatory hand to Islam seemed half-hearted about the task. In their attempt to accommodate Islam, they exhibited a critical attitude to it. This attitude represented at most a form of heresy, and the post-war thinkers we have discussed are in no mood for mere heresy. Theirs was an attitude of revolt.
Another point revealed in our discussion is the conspicuous absence of any theorizing about nationalism in their writings. The national identity crisis of the thirties and forties no longer existed. There seemed to be no incentive to explore the meaning and implications of nationalism, nor was there any impulse to justify a belief in Arab nationalism, for such a belief had already been incorporated into the Arab's general attitude.
The only question left was practical: how to bring about Arab unity? The bulk of the literature concerned with this practical question considered the then so-called "progressive countries" (i.e., Algeria, Egypt, Iraq, Syria, and Yemen) as the only ones ready for unity.(91)
It must be noted, however, that although the main questions about Arab unity were mainly non-theoretical, Arab communists and Marxists had entered into the arena of Arab nationalist struggle. They injected a new theoretical interest into the intellectual efforts concerning nationalism and Arab unity. Arab communists and Marxists moved more and more toward reconciliation with Arab nationalism, no longer dismissing it as they once did, as reactionary. Arab nationalism, however, must be tied in with class struggle on the one hand, and with the struggle against capitalist imperialism on the other. It is only a necessary transitional stage in history bound to be replaced by a "higher" stage.
This Marxist interpretation of Arab nationalism generated a debate concerning the connection between Arab nationalism and the class struggle. Sa'dun Hammadi (an American educated Iraqi), to take one example, was speaking for most Arab nationalists when he argued that there is neither a logical nor a causal connection between the two.
However, the radical mood of young Arab thinkers seemed more in harmony with Marxism than any other ideology. Arab nationalism as an ideology had failed, in their view, because of its semi-revolutionary and apologetic character. To radicalize it, they seemed to be driven toward integrating Marxism, for lack of another alternative. However, one should not overlook the important fact that the overriding issue was still Arab unity, not class struggle or the triumph of the proletariat.
The most daring aspect of Arab thought at the time was its direct challenge to Islam. Islam, many felt, had dominated Arab life for too long; no attempt to establish a secular Arab society can be successful without first shaking Islam to its foundations. The tight grip of Islam, it was argued, stultified every aspect of Arab life; consequently, any attempt at secularization was bound to clash with Islam. Young Arab thinkers came to realize, as we have seen, that loosening Islam's grip on Arab life can be accomplished only by uncompromising revolt. The way out is not simply to reform Islam and thus make it reconcilable with a secular frame of orientation. It is rather to negate Islam and transcend it.
Young Arab thinkers were still groping for new values and ideals to replace the old ones. In this process of exploring and clarifying, the Arab intellectual was bound to undergo a crisis different from the national-identity crisis of the thirties and forties. The question for him was no longer, "What is the identity of my nation?" but, "What system of beliefs ought we to adopt?" Now that the old system of beliefs had crumbled (best indicated by the June War), how are we going to fill the ideological vacuum?
The nature of his question explains why the Arab intellectual's debates took place on a high level of abstraction. Attention was primarily directed to the infra-structures (ideological structures) of Arab existence. Since a radical change in these structures was required, it was necessary to engage in generalized ideological thinking.
The questions of the sixties, then, as in previous periods, were ideological in nature. Unfortunately, the concrete, problem-solving approach was conspicuously absent from Arab thought.
Notes:
(1) Antun Sa'adeh, Al-Muhadarat al-Ashr (Ten Lectures), Beirut, 1956, pp. 30-35.
(2) al-Nizam al Jadid 1 (March 1948), p. 50.
(3) Aflaq, Ma'rakat al-Masir al-Wahid (MEW), (Beirut, 1959), p. 98.
(4) Ibid., p. 19.
(5) Ibid.
(6) Ibid, p. 22.
(7) Aflaq, Fi Sabil al-Baath (FSB) (In The Cause of Baath) (Beirut, 1963) , p. 50.
(8) Ibid.
(9) Ibid.
(10) Cf. Spencer Lavan, "Four Christian Arab Nationalists," in The Muslim World vol. LVII, No. 2, (April 1967), p. 122.
(11) Ibid., p. 120.
(12) Aflaq, MMW, op. cit. pp. 33-39.
(13) op. cit. p. 116.
(14) Ailaq, FSB, op. cit. pp. 50-62.
(15) M. Berger, The Arab World Today (Doubleday, 1962), pp. 335-336.
(16) Gibb, Modern Trends in Islam (University of Chicago Press, 1947), p. 115.
(17) See H. Nuseibah, The Ideas of Arab Nationalism (Cornell Univ. Press, 1956).
(18) See Al-Bazzaz, "Islam and Arab Nationalism," tr. by S. C. Haim, Die Welt des Islam n.s. III (1964), pp. 201-218.
(19) Enayat, "Islam and Socialism in Egypt," in Middle Eastern Studies, vol. IV, No. 2, (January 1968), p. 145.
(20) Op. cit. p. 287.
(21) Draft of the Charter, (Eng. trans.) U.S.A., Information Dept., (May 1962), p. 63.
(22) Ibid., pp. 63-64.
(23) H. Sa'ab, "Kitab al-Harakah" ('The Book of Movement"), in Mawakif, vol. 1, No. 2, (January 1969), pp. 12-13.
(24) Sayf ad-Dawlah, Usus al-Istirakiyah al Arabiyah (Foundations of Arab Socialism) (Cairo, 1965), p. 5.
(25) K. Raf'at, "Khasa'is al-Istirakiyah al Arabiyah," in al-Akhbar, (March 18, 1962).
(26) Salah Mukhaymir and Abduh Rizq, Fil'Ishtirakiyah a1-Arabiyah (Arab Socialism) (Cairo, 1964), pp. 110-111.
(27) Ibid, p. 111.
(28) See, for example, Muhammad Ahmad Khalafallah, al-Quran al-Karim wal Madamin al-Ishtirakiyah," in Al-Katib (July 1966); and Abdul Mufti Sa'id, "at-tajribah al-ishtirakiyah al Arabiyah," in the same journal, (March 1967).
(29) Ad-Dawlah, p. 9.
(30) Enayat, op. cit. p. 152.
(31) M. Siba'i, Ishtirakiyat ul-Islam (Socialism of Islam) Damascus, 32 p. 17.
(32) Ibid, p. 17.
(33) Ibid, p. 38; pp. 89-100.
(34) Ibid., pp. 43-65.
(35) Munajjid, Amidat an-Nakbah (Beirut, 1967).
(36) S. Qutb, al-Adalah al-Ijtima'iyah fil'Isam (Social Justice in Islam), Isa al-Babi al Halaki and Partners Press, (1964).
(37) Ibid, p. 97.
(38) Qutb, Ma-alim at-tariq, Watrab Press, P. 52 et seq.
(39) Sfeir, "al-Hajahila al-Juthur," ("The Need for Roots"), in Afaq, 4th vol. II, No. 1, (1959).
(40) Ibid, pp. 110-111.
(41) Ibid, p. 113.
(42) Ibid, p. 114.
(43) Ibid., pp. 114-115.
(44) Sfeir, "al Bahath an al-Juthur" ("The Search for Roots") in Afaq, vol. III, No. 1 (1961), p. 5.
(45) Ibid, p. 6.
(46) Ibid, p. 7.
(47) Ibid, p. 10. It must be noted that Sfeir here was using Spengler's terminology.
(48) Ibid, p. 9.
(49) Ibid.
(50) Ibid, p. 10.
(51) Adonis, Aghani Mihiar ad-Dimshki, Shi'r Press, (Beirut, 1961).
(52) Adonis, "Muhawalah fi Ta'rif ash-Shi'r al-Hadith" ("An Attempt to Define Modern Poetry"), in Shi'r, vol. III, No. 11 (1959), p. 79.
(53) Ibid, p. 87.
(54) See Adonis, Mawakif, vol. 1, No. 1, (1969), p. 4.
(55)Adonis, Mawakif, vol. 1, No. 3, (1969), p. 4.
(56) Al-Khal, "Mafhum al-Kasidah" ("The Notion of Poem") in Shi'r, vol. VII, No. 27, (Beirut:1963), p. 88.
(57) M. Muhammad, Thawara ala al Fikr al-Arabi (Revolt Against Arab Thought), (Beirut , 1964), p. 88.
(58) Ibid, p. 92.
(59) Ibid, p. 95.
(60) Ibid, p. 96.
(61) Ibid.
(62) Camus, Theatre, Recits, Nouvelles, p. 1929.
(63) Pierce, Contemporary French Political Thought, Oxford Univ. Press, (1966), p. 130.
(64) Modern Islam, Vintage Bunks, (1964) p. 166.
(65) Ibid.
(66) As-Sadat, Revolt on the Nile (London, 1957) p. 53.
(67) Mawakif, vol. 1, No. 2, (1969), p. 4.
(68) Adonis (ed.), Kasa'id Mukhtarah, (Dar Shi'r), p. 17.
(69) Mawakif, vol. 1, No. 1, (1969), p. 4.
(70) S. Azem, an-Nak'd ath-Thati Ba'd al-Hazimah (Dar at-ta li'ah, 1968).
(71) Ibid, p. 17.
(72) Ibid, pp. 33-35.
(73) Ibid.
(74) Ibid, pp. 70, 84.
(75) Ibid, p. 77.
(76) Ibid, p. 112.
(77) Ibid, pp. 132-140.
(78) Mawakif, vol. 1, No. 2, (1969), p. 3.
(79) Mawakif, vol. 1, No. 1, (1968), pp. 8-9.
(80) Ibid, p. 10.
(81) Ibid.
(82) Ibid, p. 11.
(83) Ibid.
(84) N. Bitar, Minan' Naksah ila-Thawrah (From Upset to Revolt) Dar at-tali'ah, Beirut: 1968, p. 36.
(85) Ibid, pp. 38-39.
(86) Bitar, "Nahwa Almanah lnkilahiyah," in Mawakif, vol. 1, No. 2, p. 36.
(87) Ibid, p. 38.
(88) See al-Adab (August, 1967).
(89) Sad'un Hammadi, Qadaya ath-Thawrah al-Arabiyah (The Issues of Arab Revolution), Dar at-tali'ah, Beirut: 1968), pp. 69, 71-72, are very relevant here.
(90) Bitar, Minan Naksah ila-Thawrah, op. cit. pp. 201-202.
(91) See, for example, the following issues of Dirasat Arabiyah, vol. Iv, No.1, pp. 3-21; vol. IV, No. 3, pp. 3-16.
(92) Ibid, vol. V, No. 6, pp. 109-114. See also vol. IV, No. 1, pp. 101-107.
(93) Hammadi, op. cit. pp. 216-220.