Political scientists are often skeptical of the power and importance of politicians’ public pronouncements. “Mere” rhetoric, they sniff, contrasting these supposedly empty and meaningless words to the motives that truly drive behavior, the institutions that empower and constrain, and the material resources that actors desire, fear, and exploit. Public rhetoric counts for little, they insist. But politicians, Laurie Brand correctly observes at the start of Official Stories, know better. They recognize that no regime can survive by coercion alone. Regimes rest on legitimacy, and legitimacy rests on a resonant narrative. Politicians, even those operating in the authoritarian contexts she studies, carefully craft their legitimating message, broadcast it within the body politic, and seek to inculcate it in the next generation.

In her book, Brand explores in rewarding detail how leading politicians in Egypt and Algeria have scripted and continually rescripted the national narrative—to legitimate their regime in the face of ever-changing challenges, to undercut emerging competitors, and to make possible new political projects. These leaders have not acted as if public rhetoric were epiphenomenal or incidental, as if they relied on their substantial coercive capacity alone. They have, rather, treated the regime’s public legitimation as a critical technology of rule, and thus they have devoted both attention and resources to it.

Legitimation, Brand unequivocally shows, is not unique to democratic politicians, who must cultivate a mass following to ensure their periodic reelection. It would seem from the author’s rich research that authoritarian leaders, too, must cultivate legitimacy, among publics both broad and narrow. In fact, consistent with her findings, I would contend that authoritarian leaders invest even more in legitimation than their democratic counterparts because the procedural bases of democratic legitimation are relatively resilient and durable, compared to the more varied and malleable bases of authoritarian legitimation.

The great strength of Official Stories lies in its four central empirical chapters—two on Egypt, from the Free Officers Revolution through the stultified, corrupt regime of Hosni Mubarak, and two on Algeria, from decolonization through civil war. Brand engages in a close reading of national charters and major public addresses, with an eye to their sometimes subtle and sometimes stark narrative shifts. She also carefully examines school textbooks, as the primary means by which these regimes sought to indoctrinate youth and provide a stable basis for rule. Brand is particularly sensitive to discrepancies between the former, whose message the regime directly manages, and the latter, which requires a capacitous state that can both extract sufficient resources to revise educational materials and maintain tight control over the bureaucracy to ensure narrative consistency. The book concludes with a timely epilogue on the Arab Spring, in which the two countries’ experiences diverged, and so too did the corresponding legitimation strategies: Algeria ironically enjoyed regime stability, whereas Egypt ran through three regimes in quick succession.

My knowledge of the politics of postindependence Arab states, let alone their official narratives, is limited. I participate in this dialogue not as a student of the Arab world but as a fellow traveler in the world of narrative. As a result, my focus in this review is less on the book’s empirics, which strike me as impressive, than on its conceptual moves and theoretical claims, especially how to make sense of the numerous narrative shifts that Brand traces. Her conceptual and theoretical touch is admirably light, and she approaches the cases with no grand claims—beyond the insight that these regimes invoked and reworked foundational narratives to consolidate or retain power—and even no explicit working hypotheses.

Only toward the end, in a brief chapter entitled “Narrative Rescriptings and Legitimacy Crises,” does she put the cases into dialogue with each other. Some of the findings are less surprising: Uncontested successions resulted in narrative continuity or minor narrative revisions, whereas contested successions sometimes (but not always) led to corresponding narrative revolutions (pp. 188–93). Some of these findings are more surprising: Wars ending in (perceived) defeat did not lead to large-scale narrative innovation, and wars ending in (perceived or effectively claimed) victory did not have consistent narrative effects (pp. 191–93). A fully specified theory of narrative change does not emerge from this comparative case analysis, and Brand is willing in conclusion only to point to “the composition and coherence of the leadership group or regime coalition” as a driving force: “[S]ignificant modifications [in the official narrative] are most likely to emerge in the context of a threat to a regime characterized by preexisting factionalism within its ranks, or when it faces significant opposition from below” (p. 195).

I must confess that after reading through so many pages of careful analysis, I was somewhat disappointed by the modesty of Brand’s conclusions. This is, to some extent, a matter of taste and of different conceptions of social science. But the book, in my view, would have been stronger had she engaged more deeply with both conceptual foundations and theoretical implications. Since this review is part of what I expect will be a productive dialogue, I will use it to pose a series of questions that I hope Brand will take up in reply.

First, what falls within or outside the official legitimating narrative? In her opening conceptual discussion, Brand rightly points to the identity markers of the national community (including who is inside and who outside the nation; pp. 10–16) and identifies “three central narrative themes”—“the founding story, the elements that have been promoted as constitutive of national identity, and the construction of the concept of national unity” (p. 24)—but these remain vague. What are the essential pillars of a particular legitimating narrative to which we should be attentive in the empirical chapters? Certain factors are appropriately featured—the place of Islam in both countries, Egyptian identity versus pan-Arabism, the acknowledgment of a Berber past in Algeria—but many other, seemingly minor, issues are treated as essential to regime legitimation in Brand’s telling: for example, the role of foreign powers (p. 33), the commitment to political freedoms (p. 78), the goals of inter-Arab initiatives (p. 81), socialism (pp. 130–31), and many others. She may well be right that these various elements should be central to the analysis; my concern is conceptual and theoretical, not empirical. Without greater conceptual rigor, it is not clear what constitutes a substantial narrative reshaping, what is but a minor emendation, and what is a policy shift without narrative implications.

Second, are there any limits to narrative construction and reconstruction? Is it the case that where there is a will, there is always a rhetorical way? Brand understands state discourse as a “political tool” (p. 5). Hers seems to be a thoroughly instrumentalized conception of narrative. I did not see much evidence in the cases of consistency constraints, nor did I read of impossible narrative paths—though I imagine these existed. The author’s perspective is retrospective, not prospective: She explores what was said—never what might have been said and was not, or what could not have legitimately been said. I found myself wondering about the range of conceivable legitimations and whether there were any limits to legitimation.

Third, what is the relationship between the official narrative and political contestation and policy? I’m not sure what Brand would answer, because she explicitly declares the reception of official narratives—that is, whether regimes are successful in their efforts at legitimation—beyond the study’s bounds (p. 18). This might lead readers to think that leaders’ legitimation instincts are unfailing. But of course they are not, or these regimes would have proved more durable. Addressing empirically and theoretically when leaders craft resonant legitimating narratives, when they fall short, and when they are compelled to turn to coercion alone would have helped answer the lingering “so what” question that may trouble readers at the end of this rich study.

Relatedly, what is the relationship between an effective legitimating narrative and policy debate? I would suggest that effective legitimating narratives become what I call, in Narrative and the Making of US National Security, dominant narratives. However, in my account, control over those narratives does not lie exclusively in the hands of officialdom. Those holding the reins of power can themselves run afoul of dominant narratives and be punished for their transgressions, and narrative authority can shift, under specified conditions, to political opponents. In my view, dominant narratives neither shut down political contestation nor fully determine policy outcomes: They channel policy debate and render some policies unsustainable.

Finally, what kind of leadership, if any, does legitimation/narration make possible? In my work, I look to storytelling as a mechanism of leadership in social construction—as a means of fixing meaning, if always only relative and temporary. At times, Brand suggests, in contrast, that narration is more a matter of “fitting” claims to the preexisting visions of particular groups. In her account, resonant rhetoric, matching the view of the current configuration of forces, can supply a stable basis of political support. Thus, both Egyptian and Algerian leaders, in an attempt to undercut Islamists, altered the official narrative in ways that marked an embrace of Muslim heritage. What are the possibilities and limits of rhetorical leadership?

Brand’s Official Stories is a rich and rewarding text. Its central premise is sound and much overlooked. Theoretically inclined scholars will find here two beautifully limned cases with which they must grapple. Students of both authoritarian and Arab politics will find here a challenge to their often materialist accounts. That the book raises more questions than it can answer is a mark of its unique and provocative contribution.