State‐Community Relations in Yemen: Soqotra’s Historical Formation as a Sub‐National Polity

[1] I am referring to the segmentary society paradigm, which promotes a Middle Eastern exceptionalism based on a regional geo‐cultural determinism, and is largely based on anthropologists’ “homogenizing generalizations” and their caricatural reductionism of tribalism into contrived patterns of alliances according to segmentary theory‐prescribed socio‐organizational axioms (for example, “balanced opposition”), in which human actors figure as invented ideal types. Regrettably, segmentary theory, which was initially proposed as a heuristic model (for example, Gellner Citation1981) has been reified into a panoptic paradigm, with tribalism as its “gate‐keeping” concept (Dresch Citation1989; Khoury and Kostiner Citation1990; Salzman Citation2008). This is epitomized in Rosen’s (Citation2006: 160) suggestion of a less salutary, indeed debilitating, Arab/Middle Eastern counterpart to Weber’s Western “Protestant ethic”, namely a “tribal ethic” that “pervade[s] much of Arab political culture”. It is a binding doxa, a region‐specific millennial tradition, a foundational and ineluctable value system that determines cultural attitudes, structures social relations, ascribes civic identity and constrains societal change. In effect, this “tribal ethic” constitutes, as Rosen implies, a historically immutable ideological grid that perverts Arab’s adoption of modern institutions (for example, parliamentary democracy, etc.), as these are likely to succumb to the pathologies of autocracy. (See Elie Citation2003 for a deconstructive critique of the contrived articulation of dynamic communal processes with presumed immutable social structures imagined by the segmentary paradigm’s tribe‐centric ethnographic appropriation of Yemen.)

[2] Moreover, it is worth noting that although the term political incorporation is not commonly used in current studies of the region, it defines the nature of the relationality in (1) intra‐national relations between nation‐states and local communities (for example, Cohen Citation1977); (2) in intra‐regional relations between Middle Eastern states (for example, Anderson Citation1987); or (3) in international relations in terms of accommodation to supra‐national regimes of development and democratization (for example, Mitchell Citation2001). Indeed, political incorporation has been the unacknowledged paradigm in many of the ethnographies of Yemen, which explored—through a variety of thematic emphases, regional foci and historical periods—the Yemeni state’s territorial and institutional expansion as part of its polity regimentation strategy, albeit without using the term as analytical framework (for example, Bujra Citation1971; Dresch Citation1989; Messick Citation1993; Mundy Citation1995; vom Bruck Citation2005; Weir Citation2007).

[3] Relatedly, Weir’s ethnography of the northern highlands of Yemen discusses the recursive relationship between state and tribe in a manner evocative of my approach here, as she offers a historical reconstruction of four centuries of attempts at the political incorporation of Razih district, as part of a national state formation process. (See Weir Citation2007: 229–306).

[4] The term “mesography” was first used by sociologist Frank Lester Ward (Citation1902). For Ward, mesography refers to a synthetic social scientific practice—that is, a “constructive science”—that makes use of the human and social sciences to “extract truth from social facts”. Going beyond Ward, mesography is an analytical medium uncoupled from any particular disciplinary matrix and its circumscribed epistemic practices. Furthermore, the prefix meso does not refer exclusively to level of analysis, but to its linking function between disciplinary discourses, loci of investigation, thematic spectrum and scales of analysis. This makes it an apt conceptual descriptor of an integrative framework for interdisciplinary research practices within the human and social sciences that seek to account for the vectors, and historically mediated processes, of societal transformation.

[5] I offer here a definition of articulation as the operational underpinning of mesography: the elucidation of the contingent connections and strategic entwinements of the multiplicity of factors (for example, political, economic, cultural, social, environmental, etc.) in the constitution of a social formation as part of a historically contextualized process of change. This definition allows contextually adaptive research and analytical practices that circumvent the parochial epistemological and methodological preoccupations of discipline‐bound uses of the term articulation: for example, cultural studies’ discourse analysis as political praxis (for example, Morley and Chen Citation1996); anthropology’s idiosyncratic juxtaposition of interpretatively engineered bricolage of cultural formations (for example, Clifford Citation2003); philosophy’s quest for a post or non‐linguistic mediation of experience and meaning (for example, Joas Citation2002); and history’s search for a conceptual exit from the dilemmas of interpretation and explanation (for example, Wuthnow Citation1989).

[6] The above part of this paragraph is based on archive documents collected in Ingrams and Ingrams (Citation1993 vol. 4: 160–185).

[7] If the behaviour of Soqotra’s last Sultan (Issa bin Ali, 1952–1967) is any guide, then administrative neglect was the modus operandi vis‐à‐vis Mahra. Indeed, the Sultan seemed to have been, as one British report puts it, “careless of his responsibilities in Mahra country … [as] he rarely if ever visits the mainland and does nothing to foster the loyalty of his subjects there.” The British were guilty of similar neglect vis‐à‐vis both Mahra and Soqotra, which were left out of the advisory residency system introduced in the Eastern Protectorate since the 1930s. It was only when, in the 1950s, the oil company, Petroleum Concessions Limited, sought an oil prospecting lease for the Mahra region that an “Advisory Treaty” was signed in 1954. The latter would have established a formal administrative system in Mahra and Soqotra similar to that of the Qu’aitī and Kathīrī Sultanates. However, it was never operationalized, as the Sultan refused to sign the oil exploration agreement presented by the British. (For details, see Ingrams and Ingrams Citation1993, vol. 12: 585–611, vol. 15: 749–761).

[8] The term “foreigner” has a long and complicated genealogy in Soqotra. It was, and still is, part of an enduring curiosity among researchers and Soqotrans concerning the ethnic origins and social categorizations of its first inhabitants and their progeny. The islanders have formulated their own division based on a cultural–spatial distinction: those who considered themselves the indigenous inhabitants prioritized a territorial self‐conception rooted in a detailed knowledge of, and keen attachment to, clan geography, which induced a sensibility vis‐à‐vis spatial location of people as an index of relative cultural authenticity. Accordingly, the hinterland was the domain of indigenous Soqotrans, while the coast was that of those with foreign origins. This was a means to preserve their cultural autonomy and land ownership from their political overlords. The latter were mostly coastal residents who, in contrast, privileged a genealogical self‐definition that preserved their exclusive status distinction, which was used to legitimize their rule. (For details see Elie Citation2006b: ch. 3).

[9] In contrast to the Zaidy sada of north Yemen, who considered themselves a spiritual aristocracy of the learned and the exclusive custodian of the faith’s doctrinal heritage, as well as the hereditary rulers of the political realm (vom Bruck Citation2005); and the Sufi sada in Hadramawt, who were ritual specialists and spiritual intermediaries whose veneration imparted blessing (baraka) to their followers (Ho Citation2006); the ashraf in Soqotra seemed to have been mostly illiterate, and thus did not have any pedagogical function as scholars vis‐à‐vis the population, but were primarily regarded as possessing magical powers and whose protection services (that is, to ward off inauspicious forces and signs) were under the exclusive patronage of the Sultan (Elie Citation2006b: ch. 6).

[10] Parts of the above paragraph are based on personal communication with Soqotri ethno‐linguist Dr Miranda Morris. Worthy of note is that, in Soqotra, the akhdam constituted a transitory class of self‐indentured labourers, and never became an ethno‐culturally based occupational caste subjected to social exclusion, as was, and still is, the case on mainland Yemen. (Seif Citation2005.) However, it is the muwalladin, who seemed to have inherited the social condition of the akhdam on mainland Yemen (see section on the socialist period below).

[11] Although the term masilhim is commonly used by Soqotrans today, it is, however, of foreign origin. Probably, it is derived from the Arabic word sulh (peace‐making). In fact, the island‐wide Soqotri term used to refer to clan meetings with the Sultan is ‘etihi a‐sahatan’ (from the verb etihi meaning disputers to meet, and solve problems, etc.). Personal communication with Soqotri ethno‐linguist Dr Miranda Morris.

[12] In this context, belief in witchcraft (sihr) was pervasive, and it led to the dominant role played by the makole (traditional medicine man), who had the power to determine who was a witch, as well as to remove witches’ spells. In Soqotra, it was exclusively women who were accused of witchcraft, and those found guilty were exiled to (today’s) Oman and the United Arab Emirates, where they unwittingly became the founding members of a now thriving Soqotran diaspora. See Naumkin (Citation1993: 315–323).

[13] In Yemen, muwallad (plural: muwalladīn) refers to someone born of intermarriage between an Arab (Yemeni) father and a non‐Arab mother. In Soqotra, it is used exclusively to refer to the population of African descent, in spite of the fact that there are Soqotrans of mixed Omani and Emirati origins. Since the end of the socialist period, the term is used as a euphemism for a manumitted social status marker that is evocative of an ethno‐cultural distinction, if not social exclusion. For further discussion of this social category in Yemen, see Ho (Citation2006: ch. 8).

[14] There is an ineluctable dialectic between topography, cultural geography and the challenges to polity formation and social transformation that have affected the island’s historical itinerary, and continue to affect the development prospects of Soqotrans. This is aptly expressed by Ho (Citation2006: 33): “The lay of the land gives shape to the social formations and political relations within it, patterning themes in its history and [structuring] the flow of events.”

[15] This paranoia of sovereignty was symbolized in the State Security Law adopted in 1975, which made it an “an offense for a Yemeni to speak with a non‐Yemeni without official approval” (Halliday Citation1990: 228). This political gag on the citizenry, or this “anti‐fraternization” injunction, was also operational in Soqotra, as I was told by local informants.

[16] The intifādhāt were initially a land redistribution instrument deployed by politically organized landless peasants against rural feudal landlords in South Yemen after the revolution and prior to the adoption of the second Agrarian Reform Law in November 1970. It was subsequently used in different sectors (for example, fishing) by the political leadership of the state as a means of encouraging mass demonstrations in support of policy changes. See Stork (Citation1973: 11–19); Halliday (Citation1979: 13); Ismael and Ismael (Citation1986: 83–88).

[17] However, the South had its own experience with British‐instigated tribalization prior to independence, which the Socialist regime sought to undo with mixed results. Gavin (Citation1975: ch. 8) provides an illuminating account of how insignificant clans were consolidated into tribes and organized into a congeries of micro‐states, as a result of the implementation of the British policy of protectorate formation in South Yemen. This configured the South’s socio‐political geography into a cosmopolitan centre and a tribal periphery, which subsequently became part of a broader strategy of using tribes as “a counterpoise to the urban world of radical, middle‐class nationalism… [in] the cosmopolitan port city of Aden” (Cannadine Citation2001: 82).

[18] I am referring to the set of regulatory mechanisms (qawā‘id) in relations among tribes: shura (consultation between tribal members); aqd (inter‐tribal protection agreement); bay’ah (oath of allegiance between tribal sheikh and tribesmen); the feud (thār); and the payment of blood money (diyah), among others. These are neither among the traditional governance nor of conflict resolution institutions of Soqotrans. For details see Weir (Citation2007: 143–225).

[19] The project has had meagre success in recruiting Soqotrans as environmental cosmopolitans encapsulated in a kind of virtual polity regimented by internationally vetted policy prescriptions, and thus unmoored from local socio‐cultural realities and livelihood exigencies. In effect, its fumbling implementation of locally mal‐adapted objectives has engendered among most Soqotrans a deep skepticism about the relevance of its goals, and a chronic uncooperativeness towards its activities. (For details, see Elie [Citation2006b: ch. 7]) The designation of Soqotra in July 2008 as a UNESCO World Heritage Natural Site has granted a new lifeline to this faltering experiment in transnational governmentality. The Global Environment Facility (GEF) has approved funding for a five‐year project entitled “Strengthening Socotra’s Policy and Regulatory Framework for Mainstreaming Biodiversity”. Its main objective is to reconfigure the island’s governance structures through “the creation of an island‐wide local government [with an] integrated planning approach into which biodiversity considerations can become central.”

[20] At issue here, is the official non‐recognition of Soqotrans’ ethno‐cultural specificity; and therefore whether or not it is politically permissible for them to claim their rights to cultural expression as an unrecognized indigenous people. Consequently, there is a chronic ambivalence about using the island’s cultural endowments as symbolic resources in an alternative project of self‐making that goes beyond the exclusionary ethno‐nationalist ethos of the state. For details, see Elie (Citation2006b: ch. 6, Citation2008: 342–343).