It should be noted from the outset that for this reviewer, Curzon and British Imperialism proved to be a very difficult read. It falls within the category of pure diplomatic history—the kind that unfolds dispatch by dispatch, direct quotation by direct quotation; that contains an overwhelming number of endnotes (1,170 for 244 pages of text); and that is packed with sentences such as: “Neither the objection raised by Chamberlain, that this would contravene the Hague Convention, nor the possibility of upsetting the Russians, to which Robert Graham alluded, deterred Curzon who, noting the concurrence of Hardinge and McMahon, suggested that the views of the Government of India be sought on a change in Cox's status” (p. 58). The inclusion of so much undigested material tends to obscure any larger theme that John Fisher may be pursuing. And although he claims to admire Elie Kedourie, that scholar, whatever one may think of his views, was a master at synthesis and pointed argumentation. These qualities are mostly lacking in Fisher's work.

James L. Gelvin's Divided Loyalties: Nationalism and Mass Politics in Syria at the Close of Empire isolates a two-year period, between the end of Ottoman rule and the beginning of the French Mandate, to examine a critical moment in the development of nationalism in Syria. He draws on previously unanalyzed primary source material, including leaflets, newspaper reports and editorials, memoirs, speeches, rumors, and even graffiti, to reveal the processes through which modern nationalisms in the Arab East were created. In doing so, he undermines two basic assumptions in the literature on Arab nationalism (p. 5). First, in contrast to the vision of Arab identity as a long-repressed primordial national consciousness—what political scientist Ronald Grigor Suny terms the “Sleeping Beauty” view—Gelvin shows instead how nationalism was subject to varying interpretations and conflicting visions. For Gelvin, Arab nationalism has “achieved a retrospective homogeneity and coherence” in the scholarly literature, which it did not have historically (p. 7). Second, Gelvin challenges the prevailing view that the phenomenon of Arab nationalism can be adequately captured by way of elite-centric intellectual histories.

Middle Eastern studies is frequently criticized in the social sciences for being atheoretical and descriptive. While it is effective in elucidating the complexities of societies, a lack of theory tends to isolate Middle Eastern studies from social-science disciplines, because it often lacks applicable frameworks or concepts that can be applied outside the region. A growing group of scholars is attempting to address this concern by integrating strong empirical area expertise and the rigor of social-science inquiry to enhance the explanatory power of research.

If the number of annual international conferences on a subject is an indicator of its importance for the academic and the political worlds, there is no doubt that security in the Persian Gulf region is one of the most debated topics. The area has always been coveted by non-indigenous adventurers. The Portuguese presence in the region was followed by a lasting British dominance, which, in turn, would be dislodged by a new American military, political, cultural, and economic leadership. This historical foreign intervention coupled with emerging political independent entities—that is, states—has created a confrontational dynamic in the region based on territorial lines of demarcation.

This excellent study offers a critical analysis of the Islamic economic system, particularly as it has evolved in Pakistan after being defined by the traditional ulma and embellished by various Islamic economists. It is a pioneering effort to present a comprehensive view of the issues involved, from riba to the status of women in Islam. These issues are encompassed in a broader discussion of the country's identity: was Pakistan to be an Islamic state or a Muslim state?

Hooman Peimani, a consultant with United Nations agencies in Geneva and an independent researcher on the Middle East, West Asia, and the Commonwealth of Independent States, has written an ambitious work based on the premise that the Central Asian states (Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan) share geographical, societal, political, economic, and military factors, combined with common concerns. These commonalties mean that the individual states are linked so closely that their national-security concerns cannot be considered independently. Thus, one has a “security complex” in which there is interdependence, rivalry, and shared interests.

This book contributes to the growing fields of ethnic studies and military thought; it is also of interest to students of the contemporary Middle East.

In recent years, there has been a plethora of commentary, at times revised daily, regarding the nature of factional conflicts and the marketplace of ideas that elite competition has brought into the open in Iran. Much less analyzed or thoughtfully reflected upon are the kinds of subtle changes that have occurred in different layers of the society that allow Iranians to breathe meaning into, and make sense of, the fast pace of changes at the political top, and to fuel those changes. Precisely how Iranians have fashioned, and are fashioning, their daily life—or, as Adelkhah puts it, “reinventing their modern life”—is the tantalizing focus of this very interesting, albeit rather scattered and cumbersome, book about Iranian culture and politics.

The debate about the Internet revolution has been marked by a double dystopia. One comes from the Scandinavian cybernauts who are far more extensively wired than their West European, or even North American, counterparts. In “Digital Arrogance,” the Swedish media scholar Andreas Kitzmann laments that the global expansion of multimedia technology and cyber-culture “is motivated not by the promise of human emancipation and enlightenment but by fantasies of power and complete control.” The South Asian cultural critic Ziauddin Sardar is even more harsh. “Cyberspace is social engineering of the worst kind. . . . The supposed democracy of cyberspace,” he writes in Cyberfutures (1996), “only hands control more effectively back to a centralized elite, the ideology of the free citizen making everyone oblivious to the more enduring structures of control.”

In an era of instantaneous communication and ubiquitous media the global public is regularly invited to witness history in the making, as the expression goes, through newspaper accounts and broadcasts of events marked with special significance. In the Middle East and elsewhere, history is said to record the fate of nations that at times is unfolding before our eyes and ears, with the accuracy of claims resting on evidence to be observed or recovered in period documents and artifacts. What emerges supposedly is a narrative whose eventual uncertainties can be attributed to information gaps, inadequate archives, and difficulties in identifying or authenticating sources.