Iran is entering the second decade of its ‘White Revolution’. The Shâh has set forth his own account of it,2 but the scholarly community has, as yet, made no serious attempt at analysing it.3 This omission is glaring regardless of justifications. It is, in fact, an omission which verges on scholarly neglect because, if there is any validity in the propositions of this study, better understanding of Iran's contemporary achievements and dilemmas would seem to require probing the very meaning of the ‘White Revolution’ by going beyond its official label and the adumbration of its programs. The purpose of this paper is to do exactly that. And toward that end it shall seek to utilize concepts of political development as suggested in particular by Professor Gabriel Almond. We prefer these concepts because they facilitate examination of the ‘White Revolution’ within the broad and fundamental framework of the major challenges of Western civilization to Iran.

At the outbreak of World War I, Lebanon was a part of the Ottoman Empire and comprised mainly the Mutasarrifîyah, or Independent Sanjaq, of Mount Lebanon and the Wilâyah, or province, of Beirut. Because of its position in international power politics, Lebanon was not under as strict Ottoman control as other provinces, with Mount Lebanon enjoying a considerable degree of local autonomy. Turkish involvement in the war, however, resulted in military occupation of Lebanon, which comprised part of the Fourth Army Command under Jamâl Pâsha, in prosecution of the war effort against the British in Egypt.

‘History’, Ernest Toller once observed, ‘is the propaganda of the victors.’ Alas, it may often be so; but in the case of the Assyrian Affair of 1933 history has been decidedly the propaganda of the victims.

Few of the Egyptian schoolboys who now memorize the principles of Arab socialism have heard of Farah Antûn, Shiblî Shumayyil, or Niqûlâ Haddâd. Yet in the opening decades of the twentieth century this trio of Syrian Christians living in Egypt — along with the Coptic intellectual Salâmah Mûsâ — were among the foremost advocates of socialism in the Arab world. What was the connection between these Christian pioneers and the widespread but as yet ill-defined Arab socialism of today? The answer will fully emerge only as the roots of Arab socialism are probed. A beginning can be made by examining these writers themselves, why they were attracted to Western socialism, what they understood by it, and how they proposed to adapt and apply it to the Middle East. A correct evaluation of their positions depends to a considerable extent on understanding the precarious, but not entirely hopeless position, of the Christian minorities in a Muslim world which had long despised them.

Labor problems were no less a reality to big business in the medieval Islamic world than they are today. Where competition was keen and skilled laborers in limited supply, workmen could demand to receive their pay on schedule or, indeed, even demand higher wages from their employer on a par or above those paid by his competitors.

The forms, themes and patterns of classical Arabic poetry were laid down in the Arabian Peninsula before the advent of Islam. Indeed the oldest poem of which we have any record dates back to the period of Jâhiliyya, a derogatory term meaning ‘ignorance’ coined by the early Muslims to denote the state of religious and moral depravity of pre-Islamic Arabs. This period covers scarcely more than a century and a half (c. a.d. 500–622). Yet when the Arabs first sprang onto the stage of world history to carve an empire for themselves, they already had an extremely complex and refined poetic art. This remarkable phenomenon has baffled the student of Arabic literature and history: ‘The most striking feature in Arabic literature is its unexpectedness’ remarks Gibb, while Goitein refers to it as ‘the miracle of pre-Islamic poetry and literary language’. The Jâhili poets, though springing from primitive and illiterate nomadic tribes, were no beginners declaiming shaky lines in a mixture of dialects in prevalence at the time. These were a host of poets erupting all over northern Arabia, from Syria to Yemen and from the fringes of Iraq to the borders of Egypt, masterfully reciting highly developed qasîdas (odes) in one and the same language, betraying little of the dialects of their region. Above all, their poetry, vigorous and vivid as it was in general, was cast in the same, steel structure of a set of complex metrical schemes.