Veiled Sentiments

The physical attributes that blood can bestow come with a “moral nature” that unites Awlad ‘Ali and, they believe, “distinguishes them from and makes them superior to other peoples” (78). The “system of morality” is “the basis for the hierarchical social divisions” within their system, and while it “is touted as highly egalitarian,” there are still “power differences” within the family (78). Social status, among the Awlad ‘Ali, comes when an individual heeds the code of honor, “in which the supreme value is autonomy,” and “the weak and dependent, who cannot realize many of the ideals of the honor code,” live instead by the “modesty code” (79). Awlad ‘Ali rationalize these “unequal” codes and opportunities, Abu-Lughod writes, by calling them “not antagonistic but complementary” (79).

The concept of equality, in Bedouin society, applies primarily to autonomy: each family unit is equally free “from domination by or dependency on others” (79). There is a hierarchy of tribes, with the Mrābṭīn (tied) tribes paying dues to the Sa’ādi (hurr or “free”) tribes. Traditionally, the Mrābṭīn could not own land and had to pay tribute to the Sa’ādi, and even though those rules have worn, this original distinction still separates the groups.

Within tribes, control of resources is also distributed unequally. Elders and senior members control community resources and arrange marriages; “junior members serve young men and sit quietly on the fringes” (80), retaining a respectful distance from power. This phenomenon mirrors the family, where older male relatives retain most of the power.

Women are always dependents (wliyya). Where older sisters and mothers wield power over young boys, younger brothers, as adults, hold authority over their older sisters and share authority with their mothers. Married couples “are also never equal,” and even if family obligations limit “the husband’s ability to impose his will on his wife,” she is always still “dependent and subordinate” (81).

The “relationships of inequality within the family” for the Awlad ‘Ali become the “conceptual device” to make sense of other inequalities in society (81). As an analogy, “the familial idiom” can “[replace] opposition with complementarity” and emphasize the “love and identity” that comes from reciprocal responsibilities and dependencies within a family (81).

Abu-Lughod uses the models of a father/son relationship and an elder brother/younger brother relationship to illustrate this rationale of “dependency and responsibility” (82). For example, the Sa’ādi tribes traditionally fight on behalf of and represent the Mrābṭīn in disputes, caring for them as “younger brothers” (82), as they control the resources of these dependent tribes. Within the tribe, lineage elders sustain access to resources, while juniors contribute labor to sustain “the patrimony which they will some day inherit” (83).

Households and individuals also tie themselves to the wealthy as “clients,” just as the Mrābṭīn used to be tied to the Sa’ādi, and these Patron/client relationships “share elements of both the father/son and elder brother/younger brother relationships” (83). The patron, like a father, must provide for the client, who, like a son, provides him with labor. But the client cannot succeed its patron, no matter how closely he involves himself in family matters.

If a client brings his wife and family along with him, they also serve as clients, serving and standing by at all gatherings, confrontations, and other family affairs. In exchange, patrons give clients homes (of some variety), money (for food), some clothing, and “usually the means (bridewealth) to marry” (83).

The “moral quality of reciprocal obligation and affection” centers the idea of “protection and dependency” as the reason for inequality (85). A downside to this paradigm, Abu-Lughod suggests, is that it “allows one group to be autonomous and forces the other into a position of dependency,” differentiating groups socially and morally along at-times “arbitrary” lines (85).

Authority, in the Bedouin power structure, derives from “moral worthiness” (85). Even though hierarchy can appear fixed, as in the family metaphor, the Bedouins also sustain an idea that “authority must be earned” and that “because authority is achieved, it can also be lost” (85). The “Bedouin code of honor” is (86), as Abu-Lughod defines it, different from others in the Mediterranean area. It focuses on aṣl, the nobility that is passed through pure bloodlines.

Aṣl, and the honor (sharaf) that it implies, includes “generosity, honesty, sincerity, loyalty to friends, and keeping one’s word” (87). Independence is possibly the most important part of honor for Bedouins, and the qualities of “tough assertiveness, fearlessness, and pride” along with “self-control” exemplify hereditary Bedouin honor (87). Because the Sa’ādi can identify their lineage, they also see themselves as morally superior to the Mrābṭīn, who lack clear genealogy. The Mrābṭīn often adopt this characterization, and when a Mrābiṭ individual displays characteristics of aṣl, people make sense of this character by finding a Sa’ādi line in their family.

For men, the ability to control others and one’s own passions is a core test of masculinity. ‘Agl, a sense of stoic response to emotions and pain that Abu-Lughod describes as “fundamental in most Muslim cultures” (90), is a central “aspect of maturity” as men age (91). Those who cannot conform to this expectation, particularly the mentally ill, remain dependents, “without honor” (91), while men, as they age and mature, can start to preside over politics, where their ‘agl promotes reason in decision making. The inability to remain self-controlled in one’s desire for women, particularly, can make a man a “laughingstock,” a “fool (habal) or a donkey (ḥmār)” (93).

Embodying “honor-linked values” is essential for Bedouins, and if individuals fail to do so, “they lose the standing appropriate to their age, level of wealth, gender, or even genealogical precedence” (92). They also lose respect. In men’s case, this loss of respect arrives swiftly for those who desire women or care too deeply for them. Abu-Lughod provides several examples from her own experience that illustrate this loss of respect and standing due to perceived moral failures.

Importantly, Abu-Lughod notes that social standing, or gīma, here is “precarious” (99), requiring those in power to uphold codes of honor and draw as little attention as possible to the inequalities of their society. A Sa’ādi landowner, for example, will not call a Mrābiṭ person by that name in his presence. He may also avoid public punishments of his dependents, which may sour their attitudes toward him; dependents “wield sanctions” to disrupt the possible “tyranny” that their providers hold (100).

Abu-Lughod provides an example of an older brother whose tyrannical behavior nearly split apart a family, causing his younger brother to move away and start a new household. Abu-Lughod writes: “Even a woman can resist a tyrannical husband by leaving for her natal home ‘angry’” (101). Women can also, “as a last resort” (101), opt for suicide—an outlet looked to by both women and men, often in response to news about an undesired marriage. Abu-Lughod retells the story of an old woman who, through a series of acts of resistance, ultimately convinced her family to pressure her husband for a divorce when she was married at the age of 14. Abu-Lughod calls this a “check on her father’s” power (102).

In this chapter, Abu-Lughod confronts the irony that those without power, no matter how much aṣl they display, cannot gain respect through its exhibition. She notes that they often show adherence to the system of honor through apparently voluntary submission, which both legitimizes the person with power over them and affords them “a sign of independence” (104). A woman, for example, “who seems to obey her husband because she has no choice” inspires pity, whereas “those who voluntarily defer are honorable” (105).

Women, too, though they cannot gain tangible power from it, “strive for honor in the traditional sense” (111). Ḥasham, a word whose meaning is complex but might be summarized to mean “modesty, shame, and shyness” or “propriety” (105), combined with the familiar idea of ‘agl, form the feminine ideal in Bedouin society. Ḥasham is both an “involuntary experience” or emotion and “a voluntary set of behaviors” (108), and displaying it in either way can be part of carrying oneself honorably. Despite this diminutive quality, women are still expected to be energetic, tough, hardworking, and intelligent; women can be admired for similar qualities to those for which men are.

Ḥasham, as an emotion, can also be a means of protecting a woman (or a man) from the shame of displaying extreme emotion, like an amulet used for protection against the evil eye. Other symbols of modesty, like women’s veils or the practice of not looking a superior in the eyes, are examples of modesty adopted physically. Sexual segregation is seen as one such physical manifestation of modesty, a protection (for women) against the emotional discomfort of, and possibly embarrassing responses to, being in the presence of great men. “Inequality is thus expressed as social distance” through the practice of ḥasham (116). The question of “who taḥashshams from whom” can be critical for a newcomer to a village as he or she discerns power relationships (117). Although it does reinforce the hierarchy of weak and strong, Abu-Lughod notes that ḥasham is “a voluntary act, a sign of independence, and as such, it is part of the honor code, applying to the dignified way of being weak and dependent in a society that values strength and autonomy” (117).