COOPERATION AND MODERATION: THE THEORETICAL DEBATE

The theoretical relationship between cooperation and democratization is a salient feature of both the democratic-transitions literature at large and that dealing specifically with the Middle East. Within the democratization literature, the transition to democracy is understood predominantly as a multilayered game.⁴

Conflicts inherent in transitions to democracy often occur on two fronts: between opponents and defenders of the authoritarian regime about democracy, and between opposition parties as they compete for their best chance under democracy. Within the opposition, there is another “game.” Moderates (those who are willing to accept whatever restricted space is granted to them by the regime) must persuade the radicals (defined as those who are unwilling to enter agreements with authoritarian regimes until restrictions they consider inherently undemocratic have been lifted) within their own parties and within the opposition at large to enter and abide by pacts or “democratic bargains”⁵—agreements that establish the rules of the “transitional game” but, without exception, are to the advantage of the authoritarian regime. Most commonly, moderates are deemed to be able to win over radicals by means of strategic arguments—by appeals to the greater strategic value of participating in rather than out of the incipient and fragile democratic system.⁶ As radicals increasingly become convinced of participation in the system, we see an important step toward democratic consolidation—when democracy becomes the only game in town.⁷

Following this line of reasoning, questions concerning whether the inclusion of Islamist political parties is leading to their ideological moderation and, as a result, the deepening of democracy, have become important and expanding areas of study in the literature on the Middle East.⁸

Examinations of Islamists' cooperative relations with ideologically opposed parties, although growing in number, have received less attention and most often are buried within studies dealing with Islamist participation in the state.⁹ In examining Islamist political parties, the terms moderates and radicals are used differently than in the democratization literature, which is largely based on European and Latin American experiences. Moderate Islamists often are defined as those who are willing to participate in the democratic system (even if their understanding of a democracy within a future Islamic state differs from the secular, liberal vision being introduced), whereas radical Islamists are deemed as those who reject participation largely due to their rejection of secularism. Islamist radicals, although divided, reject participation with any secular system—authoritarian or democratic. The theoretical premises of the “inclusion-moderation hypothesis” remain the same. Inclusion in the democratizing state and cooperation with non-Islamist parties and groups are presumed to lead to the ideological moderation of Islamist political thought as moderates convince radicals of the value of working within a democratic system and with other parties and as moderates themselves have increasing contact with diverse ideologies and worldviews. This moderation is deemed to express itself in terms of Islamists' greater acceptance and understanding of democracy, political liberties, and the rights of women and minorities.

However, as Schwedler states, the vast and diverse bodies of theoretical literature that speak to the “inclusion leads to moderation hypothesis” lack both empirical evidence and clearly specified mechanisms for change.¹⁰

Exactly how, and under what conditions, does inclusion or cooperation lead to moderation? In her groundbreaking comparative research on Islamists in Jordan and Yemen, Schwedler argues that institutional changes such as political liberalization force Islamists to justify new strategies, such as forming a political party. Islamist efforts to justify these new strategies ultimately create new opportunities for future strategic changes that used to be unimaginable. Each ideological justification allows for (and may even demand) the justification of even more “unimaginable” choices. In this context, Schwedler argues that Islamist cooperation with leftists and other ideologically opposed groups is insufficient evidence of Islamists' ideological moderation. Rather, we must look at the internal party debates to see whether the boundaries of justification have been altered. Moderation therefore must be looked at on an issue by issue basis.¹¹ In her examination of Islamists in Egypt, Carrie Rosefsky Wickham looks specifically at the Wasat Party, an Islamist-leftist party, and similarly questions the degree to which cross-ideological cooperation is leading to Islamist moderation (which she defines as a shift in thinking toward a substantive commitment to democratic principles).¹² Confirming much of the theoretical literature on democratic transitions, she argues that the Wasat Party is not only evidence of moderation but, in turn, a source of moderation. According to Wickham, Islamists' beliefs have moderated as a result of the learning process that occurs through the interactions between Islamists and secular opposition leaders in the party as they pursue common goals. Schwedler disagrees and argues that political actors with similar experiences may have divergent learning experiences and shifts in their worldviews.¹³ Wickham concedes that there remains a tension between the Wasat Party's religious and democratic commitments, but for Wickham, these are issues for which political learning has not yet taken place.

The case study of the HCCNOP is situated clearly within this larger debate regarding the relationship between cooperation and moderation. This article defines cooperation in terms of actors working jointly toward an end. Cooperation is not a mere convergence of interests between disparate actors, such as actors who happen to vote the same way in parliament. Furthermore, based on the understandings of moderation used by Schwedler and Wickham, the moderating of Islamist ideology is presumed to occur under one or more of the following conditions: the basic premise of the cooperative arrangement entails a spirit or expectation of compromise, cooperation reflects some form of give-and-take on the behalf of all parties on more than mere tactical issues, and an internal IAF debate involving strategic or ideological issues is initiated by membership in the HCCNOP.

JORDAN'S NATIONAL IDENTITY DEBATE AND THE ROOTS OF THE HCCNOP

The origins of the HCCNOP must be understood within the context of a larger and on-going debate within the Jordanian political arena over its national identity made possible by the 1989 political opening and intensified by its peace treaty with Israel.¹⁴

This debate evolved into an assertion of an Arab nationalist consensus among the opponents to the peace treaty (despite coming from different, sometimes contradictory, and even opposing perspectives), in contrast to the articulation of Jordanian national interests by the regime and the supporters of the treaty.¹⁵ This focus on Arab interests united disparate forces historically divided by identity, ideology, and/or their differing relations to the state; this newfound cooperation was reinforced by the state's rollback of political liberties and the opposition's resistance to increasing authoritarianism.

Building on the “Washington Declaration” of July 1994 announcing the termination of the state of belligerency between the two countries, Jordan signed a peace treaty with Israel in October 1994. The regime sold the peace treaty to the Jordanian public first and foremost as “a strategic option for Jordan, one in which the country had little choice.”¹⁶

To escape the international isolation Jordan had been experiencing since the 1991 Gulf War and its decision not to join the coalition against Iraq and increasingly since the Oslo Peace Accord in 1993, the government argued that Jordan needed to join the peace camp.¹⁷ Indeed, the peace treaty was integral to King Hussein's strategic efforts to realign with the Western camp.¹⁸ As Danishai Kornbluth states, by adopting Western norms to attract foreign investment, Jordan made a decision that peace with Israel was more strategically important for Jordan's interests than trade ties with Iraq or aid from affluent Gulf countries.¹⁹ In his effort to convince Jordanians of the benefits of his strategic decision to pursue Jordan's interests independently of broader Arab concerns, the king argued, among other promises, that the treaty would bring greater foreign investment in Jordan, which would result in an increase in jobs, as well as a generous U.S. aid package. The king also explicitly refuted the oft-repeated Israeli phrase that Jordan is Palestine and asserted that bilateral peace would lead to multilateral negotiations over the issue of Palestinian refugees.²⁰

Although the immediate popular reaction in Jordan to the peace treaty was one of a “wait and see” attitude, Jordan's Islamists took a leading role in opposing the peace treaty and, later, after the signing of the treaty, to “normalization” with Israel.²¹

Leftist parties soon joined forces with the Islamists with the result being the creation of the Popular Arab Jordanian Committee for Resisting Submission and Normalization, a committee of eight political parties including the IAF and seven left-wing parties.²² As Kornbluth states, Islamists' opposition reflected the rejection of the existence of Israel in any form or context, whereas left-wing nationalists feared that the treaty would further distance Jordan from its “Arab brethren” and hinder the notion of Arab nationhood.²³ However, what bound the opposition to the treaty together and eventually brought centrist streams, historically loyal to the regime, into the fold was the national identity debate that the peace treaty triggered.²⁴ Although Jordan's political parties cannot be said to represent the different communities in Jordan, Jordanian or Palestinian, their joint mobilization in response to the peace treaty is a manifestation of a larger debate over national identity that was rekindled and intensified by the treaty and the perceived lack of tangible benefits that resulted from it.²⁵ Indeed, their ability to unite under a common banner masked real divisions within and between the two communities—divisions over the status of Palestinians within Jordan and relations between Jordanians and Palestinians.²⁶

As King Hussein sought to transform Jordan's identity from one of “Arabs versus the enemy” to one of “peace camp versus the anti-peace camp,”²⁷

both communities, having long constructed their identities in reference to an external enemy, were forced, as Laurie Brand states, to rethink who they are and will be in relation to each other.²⁸ The treaty, thus, exposed the concerns and grievances of both sides. Both feared the treaty would preclude the creation of a Palestinian state, with Jordanians expressing concerns that the numerically superior Palestinians would be permanently resettled in Jordan, potentially gaining full citizenship rights at the expense of various privileges hitherto largely reserved for Jordanians.²⁹ Palestinians questioned whether they would ever be fully accepted into Jordan and how they would be expected to fit into a Jordanian conception of national identity.³⁰ Each viewed Jordan's reorientation toward Israel and away from a joint Arab stance as threatening.³¹ Thus, the treaty's opposition argued that the formal treaty with Israel would not only cause Jordan to lose its Arab and Islamic identity, but, by cutting Jordan off from its “Arab roots,” would expose it and make it vulnerable to Israeli domination.³² Whereas King Hussein emphasized Jordan's state interests in “functional cooperation”³³ with Israel, the opposition was able to galvanize much of the population under a largely Islamist-led banner of Arab unity and consensus.³⁴

Shut out of the formal foreign policymaking process and decrying the “King's peace,”³⁵

the opposition expanded its struggle. What had begun largely as a parliamentary protest moved into the professional associations and other civil-society institutions and spawned new joint initiatives to prevent normalization. The most famous of these initiatives was the National Committee for the Cancellation of the Israeli Trade Fair, which brought predominantly Jordanian centrist political parties and figures from the professional associations and other organizations of civil society for the first time into a coalition with leftists and Islamists.³⁶ Led by a former prime minister who had also been head of internal security and a member of the Royal Commission that drew up Jordan's 1992 National Charter (al-Muthaq al-Watani), the goal of National Committee for the Cancellation of the Israeli Trade Fair was to create a national boycott of the Israeli trade and industrial fair that was to be held outside Amman in January 1997.

The four-day protest gathered over 3,000 protesters and successfully discouraged virtually any Jordanian attendance at the fair. In the spring of 1997, the opposition increasingly began taking its cause to the streets and in fall 2000, held some of the country's most extensive and violent demonstrations since the onset of political liberalization in 1989. In November 2000, after the outbreak of the al-Aqsa intifada and the election of right-wing Ariel Sharon to power in Israel, the Anti-Normalization Committee of Jordan's Professional Syndicates Association released a shortlist of “normalizers” and, in February 2001, a longer blacklist of sixty-eight normalizers, which included the chief of the Royal Court and a former royal advisor. When the organizers announced that the masses would have no mercy on the normalizers and events escalated into the death of one Jordanian, the government stepped in forcefully. By April 2001, over twenty of the antinormalization organizers had been arrested.³⁷

By the end of the 1990s, the opposition appeared to have won over much of the previously undecided public. Israel's actions, such as its Grapes of Wrath Campaign against Hizbullah in Lebanon in April 1996, the intensification of the building of settlements in the occupied territories under then Prime Minster Benjamin Netanyahu, and the attempted assassination of Hamas leader, Khaled Mashءal, by the Israeli Mossad in Amman in September 1997, all seemed to confirm the opposition's accusations that peace would not restrain Israeli ambitions nor bring Jordan greater influence over Israeli actions. Most importantly, they appeared to confirm that bilateral treaties would not lead to a greater Arab–Israeli peace settlement. Similarly, the growing economic crisis in the kingdom appeared to reinforce the failure, if not futility, of peace. Peace projects, in the form of joint ventures with Israel and the development of a free-trade area in Irbid were slow to take shape and yielded marginal benefits. International funding, particularly American assistance, was also disappointing.³⁸

Critics also argued that Israel was not granting free enough access to Israeli markets. When Jordan was forced to institute a new round of International Monetary Fund (IMF) austerity measures in June 1996 and again in February 1998, riots broke out in the traditionally loyal “tribal” cities of Maan and Kerek.³⁹ The significance of these two cities could not have been missed by the king as the collective privileging of Jordanians through appointments in the state and integration in the army and civil service to create an internal base of support of the regime had been pursued as a policy since the early formation of the state.⁴⁰ As Kornbluth states, the riots reflected more than a discontent with the rising cost of bread. They were symptomatic of the disparity between the regime's efforts to realign with the Western camp and Jordanian public opinion.⁴¹ Although the country's economic woes were not a direct result of the unmaterialized economic development promised by peace, the opposition was able to link the country's growing economic crisis with broader political issues such as the “unnatural peace with Israel” and estrangement from the Arab consensus.⁴²

As the undecided public came to support the opposition, the regime responded with increasing repression. Even before signing the treaty, anticipating the opposition it would evoke after nearly fifty years of hostilities with Israel and in the absence of a comprehensive peace accord for the Middle East, the regime sought to ensure the passing of the treaty in the 1993 parliament by amending the electoral law (still in effect today). Whereas under the old system, voters could cast as many ballots as there were seats in his/her constituency, the new “one person, one vote” law gives each voter one vote regardless of the number of seats in his/her district. The new law had a dramatic effect as it forced voters to choose between tribal loyalties and more ideological political leanings, such as Communist or Islamist.⁴³

In a country where tribal loyalties remain strong and where most social, economic, and political objectives are achieved through traditional patronage and kinship relations, political parties found themselves at a distinct disadvantage. The new electoral law further undermined parties by adjusting the electoral districts so that they disproportionately favored traditionally tribal areas (the backbone of monarchical support) as well as rural areas and small towns.⁴⁴ Viewed across the political spectrum as a conscious effort by the regime to reduce the number of seats won by Islamists in parliament due largely to their uncompromising stance against peace negotiations with Israel, the law had its desired effect. The 1993 elections brought to power a socially conservative parliament of largely tribal MPs loyal to the king. The peace treaty was ratified by a vote of fifty-five to twenty-three.⁴⁵ As opposition to the treaty mounted, the government rollback of political liberties further included the regulation of speeches in mosques, laws controlling the freedom of the press, and new restrictions on demonstrations and on student-council elections.

Regime repression had a multifold impact. One the one hand, it contributed to a consolidation of the opposition by rendering the Brotherhood's stated position as “loyal opposition” untenable.⁴⁶

The privileged position the Brotherhood historically had received by successive kings of Jordan (often at the expense of leftists and pan-Arabist nationalists who were discriminated against by the regime) in return for its loyalty and abstinence from violence became increasingly distant. Upon its establishment as a charitable organization in 1945, the Brotherhood was patronized by King Abdullah I (1921–51) and received preferential treatment. Registered as a “general and comprehensive Islamic committee,” it was unaffected by the 1957 ban on political parties and was able to continue its charitable and educational activities (de facto political activities) throughout the period of martial law (1957–89).⁴⁷ Abdullah I had several reasons for supporting the Brotherhood. As Marion Boulby states, by legalizing the Brotherhood, he hoped to prevent it from becoming violent as in Egypt. In addition, his patronage of the Brotherhood indirectly buttressed his own Islamic legitimacy based on his descent from the tribe of Prophet Muhammad. Finally, the growth of the Brotherhood was hoped to offset the rise of pan-Arab nationalism that was on the increase throughout the Arab world and a direct threat to the monarchies of the region.⁴⁸ Having embraced the Brotherhood, the monarchy furthermore was able to keep a close eye on it, and particularly its policies with regard to Palestine. King Hussein continued this policy of privileging the Brotherhood, rewarding Brothers for their loyalty and cooperation by appointing them as government ministers, particularly of the Ministry of Education, in conjunction with a policy of repressing other political forces in the kingdom. By the 1980s, the Brotherhood politically dominated the student councils of all university campuses and the elected boards of many professional associations, displacing the dominance of the nationalists and leftists in both arenas. By the time of Jordan's political opening in 1989, the Brotherhood was poised to win the newly reintroduced national elections. Although in the period after the signing of the peace treaty the Brotherhood continued to try to balance its dual role as opposition leader and ally of the regime, state repression brought the Brotherhood more firmly into the opposition's fold.⁴⁹ At the same time, as the democratization process was rolled back, the opposition was able to link the peace treaty to the growing authoritarianism.⁵⁰ Finally, the repression reinforced the notion that the regime had pursued “regime” interests at the expense of “the nation.”⁵¹

As Curtis Ryan states, since the accession of King Abdullah II to the throne after his father's death in 1999, Jordan's external policies for the most part have mirrored those under King Hussein.⁵²

The peace treaty has held, despite the absence of a broader regional peace with Israel and the outbreak of the second intifada in the Palestinian Authority in 2000, and remains a key component of Jordan's larger realignment to the West. Although King Abdullah has simultaneously sought to reestablish good relations with Jordan's Arab neighbors, he has actively pursued economic and political relations with Western industrialized states by forging stronger alliances and aid ties with the United States, Britain, and the European Union as well as international financial institutions such as the IMF and the World Bank. The regime has tied Jordan's economic development to policies based both on privatization and foreign investment.⁵³ Politically, after the 11 September 2001 terrorist attack on the World Trade Center in New York, Jordanian–American ties grew stronger as Jordan backed the U.S. war on terrorism in Afghanistan as well as the U.S. invasion of Iraq and the ousting of Saddam Hussein.

Abdullah II's commitment to a nationalized Jordanian identity—one that places Jordan's concerns ahead of the larger Arab consensus—is epitomized by the Jordan First Campaign the king initiated in 2002. The Jordan First Campaign was “an attempt to define a new social accord between Jordanians,” emphasizing “the preeminence of Jordan's interests above all other considerations” and reformulating “the state–individual relationship.”⁵⁴

First put forward in the run-up to the U.S. war on Iraq, the Campaign laid out the King's political, social, and economic vision for Jordan—a vision that the king hoped would be a unifying force in the country and help keep Jordanian national interests a priority during turbulent regional times. The ensuing debate over Jordan's identity was reflected in critics' accusations that Jordan First was tantamount to abandoning Iraq and the Palestinians to their fate. Heated debates once again were fought within Jordan's public sphere over the citizenship rights of Palestinians.⁵⁵ This discord is reflected in the debate over the electoral law, for example. In this context, Palestinian critics viewed Jordan First as meaning Jordanians First. Others argued that the Campaign was an attempt to force them to choose between two identities.

As international and regional events have kept the issue of Jordan's national interests on the front burner, the call for Arab consensus has expanded into an increasing number of areas with the united opposition engaging in demonstrations and rallies against American and Israeli policies and practices in Iraq and Palestine and Jordan's relations and/or collaboration with these two states. The opposition, furthermore, has been able to extend its joint initiatives to include actions against the authoritarian measures designed to silence opposition, such as laws restricting demonstrations and limiting the political activities of the professional associations (largely targeting the opposition, which spearheads most of them). In response, the regime has continued to roll back political liberties and democratic freedoms. In 2001, the king suspended national elections and parliament; elections were not held again until June 2003. In addition, the regime has initiated further restrictions on professional associations, nongovernmental organizations, and the press. Finally, successive governments under Abdullah II have not produced, as of yet, a new electoral law that is considered fair and supported by the opposition.⁵⁶

THE IAF AND THE HCCNOP

Created in 1994 under the leadership of the IAF, the HCCNOP was a response to the parties' objections to the 1993 electoral laws, their dramatic loss of parliamentary seats to largely promonarchy tribal independents, and to peace with Israel. Today, the extraparlia-mentary coalition comprises thirteen opposition parties⁵⁷

—including the IAF, several leftist parties, the Communist party, and two Baءthist parties—that meet regularly, sometimes weekly, to coordinate activities jointly to advance their common interests.⁵⁸ The largest of these parties by far is the IAF. Established in 1992 as an umbrella political party for Islamists, it soon was dominated by the Muslim Brotherhood, and today, despite the presence of a limited number of independent Islamists, is considered the political wing of the Brotherhood. After having boycotted the 1997 elections in protest against the protribal bias in the electoral laws, the IAF, after extensive talks with King Abdullah II, reentered the elections in 2003. Although as predicted the vast majority of seats went to loyalist proregime figures, the IAF won the largest number of seats of any political party: seventeen in total.

The spokesperson for the HCCNOP (who sets the agenda and heads the meetings) changes every three months, rotating among all parties. Of the thirteen parties, six parties form the permanent leadership committee. The leadership committee was created after the outbreak of the Palestinian intifada, when it was found that the activities dealing with the intifada, as well as those related to the suspension of parliament and the temporary laws, were too much for an individual leader to manage. Chosen for their size, as well as their ability to mobilize the street, the “big six” meet before the weekly meetings of the full thirteen to prepare or finalize details for the meeting.⁵⁹

The parties in the HCCNOP have cooperated successfully on joint actions, such as sending memorandums to the king and/or statements to the press in support of the Palestinians' right of return and the defense of Iraq. The following sections explore the degree to which this cooperation extends to women's issues, the conditions under which cooperation occurs, and its significance for ideological moderation.

HONOR CRIMES AND THE LAW IN JORDAN

In Jordan⁶⁰

the term honor killing refers to the killing of a girl or woman to cleanse her family's honor as a result of alleged sexual transgressions. A man's right to take action against his wife or female relative is enshrined in Jordanian law by means of four articles in the penal code. Law 340a exempts from punishment a perpetrator who discovers his wife or female relative committing adultery and he kills, injuries, or harms one or both of the lovers. Law 340b similarly provides a reduced sentence for a man who surprises his wife or other female relative in an unlawful bed and murders, wounds, or harms them. By not defining “unlawful bed,” Law 340b expands the crime of adultery to include other sexually compromising situations. Law 97 reduces the sentence of those who commit a crime in a fit of fury from execution or life imprisonment with hard labor to imprisonment for six months or a year. Similarly, Law 98 allows for a reduced sentence for a crime committed by a man in fit of fury because of an unlawful or dangerous act committed by the victim. In both of these latter cases, the element of surprise is removed and no time limit is put on the state of fury. All of these articles derive from British and French laws and not from shariעa.

Efforts to change Jordan's laws regarding honor crimes are not new. The Jordanian Women's Union was the first organization to tackle the issue of honor crimes. In 1993, it began offering courses to combat women's legal illiteracy, and this action generated a campaign to amend laws negatively affecting women. The Jordanian National Commission for Women, headed by Princess Basma (sister of Hussein and aunt to Abdullah II), also was involved in earlier efforts to amend Jordan's penal laws regarding honor crimes and was the first to suggest the canceling of Article 340 in a draft presented to the government in 1998.

However, the campaign that received the most international attention was the Campaign to Eliminate So-Called Honor Crimes. The campaign was established shortly after a 15-minute segment on CNN (11 January 1999) on honor crimes in Jordan, featuring Queen Noor (Hussein's fourth wife), members of Jordan's police force, the head of the National Institute of Forensic Medicine, perpetrators of honor crimes, women who were residing in prison for their own protection, and Rana Husseini, a journalist who recently had won the 1998 Reebok Award for Human Rights for her coverage of honor crimes. Relying on a core group of eleven to thirteen activists, including Husseini, human-rights lawyer Asma Khader, and some 300 friends and family, the Campaign embarked upon a signature campaign to petition for the abolishment of Article 340 (a and b). The group launched its drive on 23 August 1999 and, within four months, had collected 13,955 signatures.⁶¹

Although the issue of honor crimes and the proposed abolition of Article 340 form part of broader long-term efforts by civil society to amend discriminatory laws and practices against women, it was shortly after the CNN segment and the negative publicity surrounding it (potentially detrimental to foreign investment and aid), that the king took official action.⁶²

On 17 February 1999, Abdullah II instructed the then prime minister to amend any law that discriminated against the rights of women and inflicted injustice on them. The result was the creation of a legal committee to examine Article 340 and a draft amendment that abolished Article 340 and introduced tougher punishments for adulterers; for murderers of female relatives who were victims of rape, molestation, or abduction; and for rapists. The cabinet approved the amendment in September 1999, but by 26 January 2000, it had been rejected twice by the lower house of parliament. In 2001, Abdullah II suspended parliament and in its absence, the cabinet approved 211 temporary laws, including, in December 2001, an amendment to Article 340. When the parliament was reconvened with the June 2003 national elections, the lower house was once again faced with the task of voting on Article 340. By early September 2003 the amendments had been voted down twice by the tribally dominated, conservative lower house, leaving the amendment in limbo until a joint session of the upper and lower houses is convened.

THE PSL

Similar to the amendment to Law 340, the amendment to the PSL granting greater divorce rights for women was passed as a temporary law in the absence of parliament in 2001. The law was based on recommendations made by the Royal Commission for Human Rights, established by the king in March 2000 and chaired by Queen Rania, with the mandate of reviewing the status of human rights in Jordan and recommending any necessary legal changes for improvement. The commission comprised ten people, representing a wide spectrum of Jordanian society.

The temporary law introduced a form of divorce (commonly referred to as khulaء, based on the Arabic word for extraction) that allows women divorce on demand without evidence of any form of maltreatment, dereliction of the husband's duties, or improper moral standards on the side of the husband. The amendment gives women the same rights to undisputed divorce that Jordanian men already possess—with no rights to financial compensation or payments from their ex-husbands and with the stipulation that they return their dowries. Jordan has eight other types of divorce, all of which require women to provide evidence justifying the divorce.

Despite that the roots of khulaء are found in Islam (khulaء was granted to women by the Prophet Muhammad himself) and it presently has the full backing of Chief Islamic Justice Shaykh Tamimi, the law proved to be highly controversial. Tribal leaders and the IAF were strongly opposed to the temporary law, and when it was brought to the lower house for ratification in August 2003, it was defeated soundly. Immediately after the rejection, the Jordanian National Commission for Women launched the National Program of Action in an attempt to convince MPs to vote in support of the law the next time it came to the lower house. Princess Basma hosted meetings with MPs, prominent leaders, academics, and nongovernmental leaders as well as a variety of religious establishments and the legal committees of both the upper and lower houses to emphasize the law's necessity and consistency with Islam. These efforts, in conjunction with amendments the upper house made to the law by adding a period of reflection for possible reconciliation, created what originally appeared to be a more amenable lower house.⁶³

The second time the law came up for vote in the lower house in September 2003, only twenty-five of the members present voted against it.⁶⁴ Fifty-three members approved the law on the condition it be sent to the legal committee of the lower house for review. In June 2004, the legal committee of the lower house passed it. However, when the law was sent back to the lower house later that month, forty-four of the eighty-three MPs present voted against the law.⁶⁵ At the time of writing, the law still had to be sent back to the upper house. If the law is approved as predicted by the upper house, a joint session of the two houses must be held, during which two thirds of the members present will have to vote in favor of the law for it to pass.

THE QUOTA FOR WOMEN

Although it has been discussed by women's groups and the media since the beginning of the 1990s (and particularly before and after the 1997 elections), the amendment to the electoral law to grant women a quota of seats in parliament arose out of the Jordan First Campaign. Central to Abdullah II's vision is the elevation of the status of women in Jordanian society. In Jordan's first elections in 1989, twelve women ran as candidates, none of whom won. In 1993, this number dropped to three, with one winning a seat. In 1997 the number of women candidates climbed back up to seventeen, but none won and the lower house again became an all male assembly.⁶⁶

Although not all agreed, many activist women's groups, such as the Jordanian Women's Union, argued that only a quota would ensure women's place in parliament.

As a first step toward putting his vision into action, the king created a royal commission with the mandate to identify the mechanisms for Jordan First's implementation. As an outcome of this commission, a working group of eight men and eight women was established to agree upon a formula for a quota for women. The eventual amendment, passed as a temporary law in 2003, granted women six of 110 parliamentary seats to be filled by those women who receive the highest percentage of votes in their constituencies. With the quota, women gained the same protected rights as the Christians (nine seats), Circassians and Chechens (three seats), and bedouins (six seats) in the Kingdom.

The quota received a largely negative reaction even from many of the activists who had fought for it. Given that the electoral districts are skewed to favor rural and tribal areas by granting, for example, one seat per 6,000 voters in Kerek versus one seat per 52,255 voters in the city of Amman, activists argued that the quota would discriminate against urban areas where Jordan's most educated and politically active women live.⁶⁷

When the quota was implemented in the 2003 elections, activists' fears came true. Although the quota encouraged fifty-four women to run as candidates, none of them was able to gain a seat without the aid of the quota. Of the six women who came to parliament, five are from rural areas. The sixth female is IAF candidate Hayat Musimi from the city of Zarka.

TO COOPERATE OR NOT TO COOPERATE?

The IAF opposed all three amendments, but did it cooperate with the HCCNOP in opposition to these amendments? And, if so, what conclusions can we draw about the conditions and nature of cooperation? Of the three legal amendments, the HCCNOP only discussed one, the quota for women. Neither the honor-crimes law nor the PSL were put on the agenda for discussion, despite the fact that, in general agreement with the other parties, the IAF does not condone honor crimes and clearly stated that they are against Islam and despite the fact that khulaء is a form of divorce granted in Islam.⁶⁸

Of the three cases, the quota stands out in that there is no specific religious injunction regarding quotas. It is precisely because of this that the quota was the only issue discussed by the HCCNOP for possible cooperation. For both the honor-crimes law and the PSL, there are specific religious rulings dealing with adultery and divorce, respectively. Consequently, they remain issues over which cooperation is not possible. The end result was that the HCCNOP issued only one joint statement—that opposing the quota. Moreover, the process by which the HCCNOP arrived at this statement, indeed by which it determines all its joint initiatives, did not entail any form of give-and-take or even the expectation of compromise. In other words, in terms of its ideological positions, the IAF “exits” discussions in the HCCNOP as it enters them—unchanged. The circumscribed nature of the HCCNOP's “cooperation” in terms of breadth and depth indicates the rigid limits to ideological moderation.

All three of the amendments stem from the king's proclaimed new vision for Jordan, one largely based on his expressed desire that Jordan conform to international (Western) standards of equality. Indeed, they soon represented another chapter in the debate over national identity, as reflected in the status of women. By challenging “the notions of women as custodians of tradition inhabiting the private sphere,”⁶⁹

Abdullah II pitted himself against the socially conservative tribal MPs in parliament. Publicly, the IAF aligned their objections to the laws within a larger context of the regime's Western, secular vision for Jordan in contrast to the Arab, Islamic identity that the IAF presumably is defending; in doing so, it was supported by many tribal MPs. That all three amendments were issued as temporary laws in the context of increasing political repression including, most importantly, the two-year suspension of parliament, further meant that, when parliament returned in 2003, the IAF and other MPs were keen to pressure the government on its performance of the preceding three years and to flex their regained political muscles. The debate surrounding these three amendments soon became associated with Western interference, undemocratic practices, and declining morality.

This association was made most clear in the case of the honor-crimes law, when Abdul Latif Arabiyyat, the former general secretary of the IAF stated: “We feel that whoever is leading all these campaigns to change is aimed at demoralizing our society, and the women's issue has been used by the West against the Arabs and the Muslims to push Arab women to abandon their honor and values and start acting like animals.”⁷⁰

The IAF was not alone. Tribal MPs' protestations in parliament reflected the opinion and concern that not only would Jordanian society become more like the West but that the West was actually behind the draft amendment. Many MPs shared the view that the draft was a by-product of globalization, which they argued is an attempt to corrupt and debase Jordanian society.⁷¹ Others argued that the article was part of an international campaign led and supported by the United States to impose “an American lifestyle on the world and cause changes to the social system.”⁷² Some argued that the draft was a Zionist plot aimed to devalue Jordanian society.⁷³

The Campaign to Eliminate So-Called Crimes of Honor also was criticized and accused of being “backed by international and foreign organizations…trying to infiltrate [Jordanian] society.”⁷⁴

These assaults extended to the campaign members themselves—the core members who were predominantly middle to upper middle class, Western-influenced businesspeople and professionals. The group was actually fairly diverse in terms of sex, religion, ethnic descent, and age; however, critics were quick to point out their relatively uniform image of Westernization and privilege. During her efforts to report and end honor crimes, Husseini was often put on the defensive for her Western appearance, lifestyle, and education.

The IAF thus extended the debate over Jordanian national identity to include that of gender—pitting values they characterized as Western (and presumably the king's) versus those they deemed to be more authentically Arab and Muslim. Tribal MPs soon joined in and objected that the cancellation of Article 340 would be an “invitation to obscenity,”⁷⁵

encouraging promiscuity and prostitution. Many argued that the draft legislation would legalize adultery and destroy Islamic ethics.⁷⁶

The debate over khulaء took on a very similar tone and content as that of honor crimes—placing gender within an anti-Western framework. IAF MPs were quick to point out that the divorce law was being promoted by wealthy, presumably Westernized “women of comfort and leisure who don't care about their families.”⁷⁷

If implemented, khulaء would encourage moral disintegration and destroy family values. Islamists also objected that women would make rash decisions concerning divorce. In an interview, Hamzeh Mansour, Secretary General of the IAF, argued that the family could not be exposed to the “emotions” of the women and as a result be destroyed.⁷⁸ This position was fully supported by Musimi, who predicted the collapse of hundreds of families should the amendment pass.⁷⁹

However, although the IAF's public and parliamentary rhetoric placed gender in the larger debate over Jordan's identity, its objections to both the honor-crimes law and PSL are far more specific to the IAF and reveal more differences than similarities within the opposition to the amendments. The IAF's stance was rooted first and foremost in shariעa. It is for this reason that the IAF not only opposed these two amendments but also was unwilling to discuss these amendments in the HCCNOP. The IAF came out strongly against honor crimes, arguing that they are un-Islamic and that Law 340 is not according to shariעa. However, they also argued that the amendments to 340 were not in accordance with shariעa. In interviews, IAF members stressed that honor crimes were against Islam and the IAF's political and social stance.⁸⁰

What united the party in opposition to the amendments was the fact that Law 340 dealt with adultery and not honor crimes and that (1) there are clear punishments for adultery in Islam and (2) these should be meted out by the proper court authorities after the evidence of at least four witnesses according to Islam.⁸¹ This opinion was shared by members who historically have supported women's advancement within the party and society as well as those who have taken a less liberal reading of women's rights. Even those members who argued that, due to a man's “nature,” he must be accorded a lighter sentence if he acts out of anger due to his wife's transgressions agreed that shariءa law and courts should not be bypassed in the meting out of justice.⁸²

What is interesting from the perspective of cooperation is that IAF opponents to the draft amendment also raised several important concerns that were shared by many secular lawyers and human-rights activists in Jordan. Despite these commonalities, however, the IAF was unwilling to cooperate with these activists—precisely because their response was a secular one. The first shared concern was that canceling Article 340 would not solve the problem; the heart of the legal problem lay with Article 98, not 340. Article 340, secular activists agreed, should be kept on the books, because it deals with the issue of catching someone in the act of adultery, a situation in which the woman is not innocent. Many human-rights activists and lawyers further argued, in agreement with some MPs, that what is actually being implemented in the courts in the case of honor crimes is Article 98, not 340. The real threat to women, they argued, is Articles 97 and 98, and those articles should be amended. However, in public debates, the IAF pitted itself against human-rights activists who similarly condemned Article 340 but were proponents of amendments to Articles 97 and 98. The IAF refused to engage with these secular laws, arguing that the problem of honor crimes could not be solved until Islam is applied in society and to the legal system. For this reason, IAF members argued, there is no need to engage with human-rights activists in the amendment of Articles 97 and 98.⁸³

The HCCNOP also did not discuss the PSL. Once again, this lack of cooperation was due to the PSL's grounding in Islamic law. Similar to the honor-crimes law, the IAF came out strongly in favor of a woman's right to divorce but opposed the khulaء amendment, which had the support of both human-rights activists and of Chief Islamic Justice Shaykh Tamimi (who is also the king's advisor on Islamic affairs). At issue was the nature of the divorce procedures and, in particular, the role of the judge. The disagreement between Shaykh Tamimi and the IAF revolved around the interpretation of the hadith in which the justification for khulaء arises. According to the hadith, a woman approached the Prophet explaining that, although her husband is a good man, she would like to end the marriage. In the hadith, the Prophet consulted both sides, received the consent of both sides, and granted the woman her divorce upon the mutually agreed-upon condition that she return the land her husband gave her when they married. According to the IAF interpretation, the Prophet was acting in the role of a judge. The Prophet made the decision as to whether or not the woman could divorce the man. He was not simply giving advice. For the IAF, therefore, a woman cannot have divorce simply by filing for it. A third party must supervise the negotiations between the couple and rule upon the divorce.⁸⁴

The temporary law, however, removed the role of the judge. This interpretation differs from Shaykh Tamimi's interpretation of the hadith, which is that the woman makes the decision—that the hadith grants her the right to demand divorce.⁸⁵

The IAF stances on Article 340 and on khulaء were debated hotly within the party. However, there is no evidence that the party debated whether or not to raise the issue with the HCCNOP. In interviews, members referred to both issues as controversial and claimed IAF executive members represented the full spectrum of positions.⁸⁶

While IAF members engaged in a heated debate over different interpretations of shariעa, for all involved (regardless of how pragmatic or reformist) the ultimate solution to these societal problems lies in shariעa and not secular law. The party, therefore, did not have an “extremist” stance that it refused to take to the HCCNOP. Rather, precisely because the issues of adultery and divorce are directly dealt with in shariעa, the party regards these issues as strictly internal. Their solution lies in Islam; something to which the other parties will not agree and the IAF will not compromise. Even once the party reached consensus on these two issues, it was unwilling to take these issues to the HCCNOP. This “unwillingness” is a matter of confirmed practice not debate.

However, why did other members in the HCCNOP also not raise either the issue of honor crimes or khulaء for possible discussion? The reasons for the HCCNOP's lack of initiative regarding these two issues reveal both the limited extent of cooperation within the HCCNOP and the undemanding nature of this cooperation. First and foremost, the HCCNOP simply does not discuss controversial issues upon which members recognize there will be dissent.⁸⁷

As the spokesperson for the HCCNOP noted in an interview, if there is an issue upon which the majority of parties agree, the HCCNOP will send a memo of protest to the king and simply leave the dissenting parties' names off the list of signatories. Otherwise, the issue is simply not put on the agenda.⁸⁸ The secretary general of the leftist Unity Party elaborated that with the passage of time and experience, members now know what issues will prove divisive for the HCCNOP. Because the thirteen parties have very different ideologies, they choose imperative subjects upon which everyone can and does agree.⁸⁹ Similarly, Fuad Dabour, Secretary General of the Baءth Arab Progressive Party, argued that there were two types of controversial issues: those that were political and could be discussed and those that involved issues of principle and could not be.⁹⁰ His response, he explained, did not mean that the “political” has no relationship to principles, but rather that the HCCNOP discusses political issues that are not related directly to deeply held ideological convictions. The head of the IAF bloc in parliament, Azzam al-Huneidi, agreed that the parties in the HCCNOP do not enter discussions when there are differences in ideology and religion.⁹¹

Indeed, as its name suggests, the HCCNOP interprets its mission strictly as the coordination of opposition parties. This is not a committee that engages in the give-and-take of compromise as parties struggle to arrive at a common position. The Democratic Left Party withdrew from the HCCNOP precisely because of this lack of working together toward the creation of a common platform.⁹²

Instead, the HCCNOP acts to coordinate parties on issues over which there is well-known agreement. In interviews, members of the HCCNOP are quick to correct the word “cooperation” to “coordination.” The costs of belonging to the HCCNOP are minimal—it does not deal with issues over which there is dissent; furthermore, if there is near but not absolute consent, dissenting parties are not required to sign the memorandum or statement. The nature of this “cooperation” is such that even when the IAF does work together with the HCCNOP, it is expected only to bring its position to the table, not alter or adapt it.

Furthermore, the IAF effectively controls the HCCNOP agenda. The IAF is the largest party in the HCCNOP, and its support appears to be the decisive factor in determining whether or not a subject is discussed by the group. If the IAF does not agree with the other parties, the issue is not discussed. As the head of one of the Baءth parties explained: “This is the basis upon which we work on this Committee.”⁹³

Rarely is a memo of protest sent to the government if the IAF is not a signatory. There is, therefore, a great deal of self-censoring performed by the spokespersons and parties as they decide whether or not to add an item to the agenda.⁹⁴ HCCNOP members avoid issues related to shariעa, recognizing their inability to find common ground.

In contrast to honor crimes and the PSL, the HCCNOP put the issue of the quota on the agenda and discussed it. The most important reason for this is that the issue of the quota does not have specific religious injunctions. The IAF strongly opposed the quota for women, arguing that, in addition to the fact that women are not a minority, the quota was unconstitutional as the constitution grants equality between men and women.⁹⁵

Indeed, based on the basic premise of equality granted in both Islam and the Jordanian constitution, the IAF opposes all quotas, including existing ones. Although the context of the Jordan First Campaign raised the rhetorical level of the debate, the primary focus of the objections was on the undemocratic nature of elections based on quotas and the need for women to win on merit.⁹⁶ The IAF's objections are rooted in both secular and religious considerations—with the religious considerations being general, broad principles upon which all members of the party agree. The issue of equality (and certainly not quotas) is not, however, the subject of a specific religious ruling.

The fact that the HCCNOP discussed the quota also was made possible because the various members of the HCCNOP were familiar with each other's jointly shared negative views on the temporary laws and on quotas. In other words, it was an issue upon which there was known to be little difference in opinion. Because only the Jordanian Communist Party publicly supported the quota, it was an issue upon which there was little difference of opinion; its inclusion into the HCCNOP agenda required no compromise. In 2001, in the context of what were supposed to be the upcoming elections, some MPs floated the idea of introducing a quota of political parties as an amendment to the elections law. During these discussions, the IAF made its opposition to any quota clear, and the HCCNOP was able to issue a joint statement declaring quotas undemocratic and unconstitutional.⁹⁷

The HCCNOP thus knew in advance that the issue of the quota for women would be a relatively unanimous and uncontroversial one and only because of this was it open for possible coordination among the member parties. HCCNOP members merely differed on whether they opposed all quotas in principle or specifically this one and issued a joint statement rejecting the quota for women and stressing the need for a fairer electoral system, preferably a system of proportional representation.

On a final note, with the implementation of the quota for the first time during the 2003 national elections, the IAF was forced to consider whether its first and only female candidate, Musimi, would accept a parliamentary seat, having won the largest percentage of votes of any woman but not the majority of votes in her district. Ultimately, the IAF accepted her seat, thus de facto supporting the king's quota amendment to the electoral laws. It must be questioned to what extent the IAF's action broke the spirit of the HCCNOP's “cooperative” efforts and how this action will impact the HCCNOP's future efforts.