A nation without a flag?

Part 1

As a result of an unfortunate provocation by a well meaning but fiery young advocate of the Syrian opposition, I became embroiled in an argument over the proposition that the flag of Syria as displayed on a University's Arab society's logo should be changed to reflect the contested nature over which political body is the legitimate government of Syria. I challenged the assumption that we, as Arab expats or members of the Arab diaspora had an inherent right to dictate what does or doesn't represent the Arab people. On what basis, I asked, do we decide whether a national symbol as emotive as the flag be said to exclusively belong to the realm of the government or people? In any case, probably due to a misunderstanding, some interpreted in my concerns, a tone of accusation towards the motives of those in charge and I've since learnt to keep my mouth shut and instead leave what may be interpreted as passive aggressive commentary to my newly founded blog! But the unfortunate incident wasn't all in vain, for it fuelled what was to become a discussion on what, if any flag could represent the society, and potentially the Arab people.

 I've been thinking about the Arab people as a nation for a while; as a result of my recent readings of key Arab nationalist thinkers, having undertaken numerous sociology courses on nationalism as well merely following the unrest throughout the region in current years. Thinking about the Arab nation is nothing new. In fact, if we accept Anderson's Imagined communities theory, then the Arab people are bringing their nation into existence everyday, by means of a common language, mutual concerns, hopes and affinities are read, consumed and articulated in a manner that is far more prevalent than any mode of religious expression. But this kind of modernist understanding must be applied with caution when approaching the Arab world. After all, theories of print capitalism don't quite correspond to the experience of national awareness among the Arabs who have shared a single language for over a thousand years. Al-Arsuzi and Aflaq both stressed the uniqueness of Arabic as an organic language, in conformity with nature and vitality of the vernacular to the awakening of the Arab people. A sense of "Arabness" cannot be reduced to a practical need to structurally reorient society into harmony with a new economic order. But whether or not the modernist interpretation is legitimate, an interesting dilemma remains. Imagining the Arab people isn't new but imagining the Arab people as reduced to a vexillological symbol?

Unlike the Iranians or Turks, the very definitional condition of Arab as pan-ethnic and comprising a wide array of disparate cultures, as well as religious, social and political differences makes the task of infusing a highly symbolised appeal to political unity, as manifested in a flag rather difficult. The sort of banal nationalism that neighbouring middle eastern nations taken for granted is reduced to the domain of the twenty two individual political entities that make up the Arab league. Even during the heyday of Arab nationalism, the flags employed by the various unified regimes such as the United Arab Republic and the Arab Federation, were primarily political and never extended beyond the reach of their territorial dominion. Nasser famously abolished the All-Palestinian government and the Arab revolt flag they had employed upon the founding of the UAR and imposed the flag of unity over Gaza which remained until the formation of the PLO to which it was abandoned in favour of a modified flag of the All-Palestine government which neatly brings us to our next point, the initial popularity of the flag of the Arab revolt.

Nobody knows exactly when the Flag of the Arab revolt (علم الثورة العربية الكبرى) was founded, or by who exactly it was designed. Several theories exist attributing it to various Arab secret societies active during the final years of the Ottoman Empire, modelled after the Young Turks who successfully pressured the Empire into a constitutional model before sowing the seeds for the Turkish nation following the failure of that enterprise. One of these societies were the Arab literary club, based in Constantinople during the early years of the 20th century who formulated the Pan-Arab colours based on a poem by Saif al din al Hilli;

بيــض صنائعنا سود وقـائعـنا خضر مرابعنا حمر مواضينا


White are our deeds, black are our battles,
Green are our fields, red are our swords.


Other sources attribute the foundation of the flag to Al-Fatat, another Arab nationalist society within the Empire which developed close connections with Iraqi officers within the Ottoman military, many of which would join Faisal's Arab revolt which brings us to our third candidate, Sir Mark Sykes himself who supposedly created the colours to bestow a sense of nationalism among the Arabs. The last of course many simply be claims as a result of the obsessive, parental impulse of the coloniser to take credit and subdue any sense of autonomy among his subjects. That being said, it became extremely popular among Arabs who had no part in the revolt, specifically the Palestinians who readily adopted it despite having sided with the Ottomans in the conflict. It briefly served as the Lebanese flag as well as laying the foundations for the Pan-Arab colours which have been adopted by most nations in greater Syria as well as Egypt and a few gulf countries. The enthusiastic adoption of the colours coincided with the national anthems adopted by many of these newly founded nations, which often shared a common lyricist or musician such as those by Mohammad Flayfel who composed the anthems of Palestine and Syria. It's indicative of a very unique component of Arab nationalist sentiment which retains diversity under the threats of uniformity, organic and fluid, permeating the seemingly manufactured structure of modern Arab political boundaries.