Chapter 1 describes the restoration of Damascus in the fifth/eleventh and sixth/twelfth centuries under successive Seljuk, Zangid, and Ayyubid dynasties, with a focus on the revival of religious and intellectual life in the city through the patronage of political elites and the influx of scholars from other parts of the Muslim world. The chapter traces the formation of two competing Shāfiʿī legal traditions in Damascus. The dominant and longer-established tradition was formalist, traditionalist, and transmission-oriented, and it combined centuries-old indigenous Damascene scholarly culture with the Iraqi Shāfiʿī tradition, which had taken root in Damascus starting in the second half of the fifth/eleventh century. The second minority tradition drew on the Khurasani strand of Shāfiʿism, which had arrived in Damascus in the second half of the sixth/twelfth century, and it was more analytical, exploratory, and rationalist in orientation.

Chapter 2 examines Ibn ʿAbd al-Salām’s life in Damascus, with an emphasis on his intellectual formation. I reconstruct his formative influences in the Damascene milieu to show that he was a prominent representative of Khurasani Shāfiʿism who was linked to that tradition through his teachers, the works he studied and taught, and the ideas of leading Khurasani Shāfiʿīs that he adopted and transformed. Beyond shedding light on Ibn ʿAbd al-Salām’s life, the biographies of Ibn ʿAbd al-Salām, his teachers, and his contemporaries illuminate the politics of Ayyubid state patronage and call into question the depiction of post-Abbasid scholars on the state payroll as quietist and obsequious to the political establishment.

Chapter 5 returns to Ibn ʿAbd al-Salām’s biography to examine his attempts to embody, apply, and disseminate his legal philosophy among diverse classes: scholars, students of the law, and a non-specialist public in Damascus and later in Cairo, where he retired. I demonstrate that Ibn ʿAbd al-Salām’s public activism and frequent embroilment in political controversy are best understood as manifestations of these efforts. I outline the connections between his legal philosophy and the socioreligious goals he pursued, highlighting the continuity between his theoretical scholarship and his embodied activism.

Palmyra is usually studied for one of three reasons, either its role in the long-distance trade between Indian Ocean and Mediterranean, its distinctive cultural identity as visible in the epigraphic and material record from the city or its rise as an independent regional power in the Near East in the third quarter of the third century AD. While Palmyra was indeed a special place, with a private sorte, or destiny of its own, as Pliny famously expressed it (HN 5.88), the city’s ability to maintain its distinctiveness arguably rested on deep entanglements with her local and regional surroundings. This chapter addresses how the city engaged with its neighbours and its Roman imperial overlords. Actions, events and policies attested in the epigraphic record from the city and from the Palmyrene diaspora in the Roman Empire are discussed in light of theoretical insights from archaeology, sociology and economics. It is argued that Palmyra’s remarkable success built on the city’s ability to connect with the range of social networks that constituted the Roman Empire.

This chapter examines the transition of pagan architecture and religious practices in Late Antiquity, focusing on the treatment of Roman temples under Christian emperors. Drawing on legal texts, literature, inscriptions and archaeological findings, it evaluates whether temples were preserved, repurposed or destroyed. Challenging the common assumption of widespread temple destruction, it argues that such actions were neither systematic nor state-enforced. Instead, the chapter presents a nuanced perspective, demonstrating that many temples remained intact and were gradually adapted for secular or Christian purposes. Archaeological evidence suggests that abandonment and natural decay played a greater role in their decline than deliberate demolition. It also highlights how Christian emperors often sought to suppress pagan rituals while preserving architectural heritage, with legal measures typically prohibiting sacrifices rather than mandating temple destruction. By emphasising regional variations in temple transformations and critically assessing sources that exaggerate instances of destruction, the chapter challenges traditional narratives, offering a more complex understanding of religious and architectural change in Late Antiquity.

The chronological history of Eustathius of Epiphania (in Syria) covered events from Adam until AD 503. It consists of two parts, probably a part with sacred history from Creation until the Sack of Jerusalem and a second part with secular history from Aeneas until Eustathius’ own time. Eustathius is the only known Greek chronographer who preferred the chronology of the Hebrew Bible to that of the Septuagint. As a consequence, he defends a very early start of the Christian era in AM 4350. Eustathius relied on earlier histories and summarised these: a summary of the Jewish Antiquities of Flavius Josephus is preserved. Scholars have argued that Eustathius was a major source for a range of later authors (including John Malalas and Theophanes the Confessor), but we argue for a more cautious view.

Chapter 8 traces the dynamics of our argument about the causes and consequences of IO suspensions with three qualitative case studies: Honduras’ suspension from and return to the OAS (2009–2011), Syria’s suspension from and return to the Arab League (2011–2023), and Guinea’s suspension from ECOWAS (2021). Honduras’ and Guinea’s suspensions both occurred after coups d’état violated IO commitments. Syria’s suspension was in response to gross human rights violations that stemmed from government-sponsored violence. Each case shows how IO members used suspension as a multilateral diplomatic sanction, signaling peer disapproval, to push states to halt/change behavior. The suspensions catalyzed other international actors to also punish the countries’ political backsliding as seen through follow-on economic sanctions and the withholding of ambassadors. Each of the suspended countries engaged in stigma management after their forced exits. But the cases also show a range of different outcomes: Honduras returned to the OAS after meeting all of the IO’s stipulations for reinstatement; Syria was readmitted to the Arab League even without behavior changes (largely because of shifts in other members’ domestic politics and an intractable stalemate); and Guinea remains suspended from ECOWAS at the time of writing.

Most civil wars involve internationalized intrastate conflict. These are characterized by foreign involvement or intervention for participating parties involved in domestic fighting. From just two such conflicts in 1946, the frequency of these conflicts peaked at twenty-seven occurrences in 2020, and remains high. As studies continue to analyze intrastate conflicts, internationalized variations also become focus areas, given their often-complicated initiation across regions and multinational groups. To address the challenges of internationalized conflicts, this chapter provides a strong foundation for analyzing why geopolitical conflicts such as the Cold War inhibited the successful prevention and peaceful resolution strategies of third-party actors exposed to internationalized war. Chapter 6 aims to provide greater understanding of these events, third-party motives, and the risks of intervention. External involvement further complicates conflict resolution, and poses significant threats to international peace and security. Whereas most external actors may be motivated by geopolitical benefits from engaging with allies in conflict, supporting factions might not always align with these interests in warfare, in turn causing challenges for both them and those they support.

The chapter delves into the iconic imagery and contested legacy of Moshe Dayan as the “minister of victory” during the Six-Day War. It examines the strategic decisions and military maneuvers orchestrated by Dayan, shedding light on his pivotal role in shaping the objective and management of the war. The emphasizing his focus on neutralizing the Egyptian military threat and avoiding unnecessary entanglements with other Arab armies. Dayan’s adaptability and opportunistic approach to seizing fleeting opportunities are highlighted, underscoring his influence on major decisions while attempting to minimize intervention in routine management. Furthermore, the chapter delves into Dayan’s considerations of international sensitivities, particularly regarding the Holy Basin and the potential involvement of the Soviet Union. The controversy surrounding the war’s objectives and priorities, as well as the tensions between the political and military echelons, is also examined. Additionally, the chapter delves into Dayan’s interactions with political figures and military leaders, revealing the complexities and challenges he faced in navigating the rapidly evolving dynamics of the war.

The chapter provides a detailed account of the second part of Yom Kippur War, starting with the turning point in the war on October 12. It highlights the existential danger that Israel’s leaders believed they faced before the turning point and how Israel’s leaders strategized and made a bold move to cross the canal and encircle Egypt’s Third Army, a move that changed the course of the war. It also discusses the differences in approach between Dayan and Elazar in achieving a ceasefire and how Israel’s leaders used a ruse or move to force one of their enemies to lay down their arms. It also sheds light on the difficult decisions that leaders must make during times of crisis, such as Dayan’s decision to give the order to prevent more losses that could weaken the new defense line. The chapter also discusses the aftermath of the war, including the establishment of a National Commission of Inquiry, the Agranat Commission, to examine the war’s prelude and conduct until October 8. It held the military echelon responsible for the catastrophe, a decision which escalated antigovernment protests and calls for Dayan’s and Meir’s resignations.

This chapter investigates the life and ideas of Syrian dissident thinker Jawdat Said, who attempts to balance an absolute moral obligation to bear witness with a systematic rejection of political compulsion through scriptural models from Abel to Bilal ibn Rabah.

Chapter 2 provides background on the WPS Agenda and UN mediation. It first discusses the politics of the WPS Agenda in the UN by focusing on three main dynamics: how UN actors articulate what the WPS Agenda is, how the UN's mediation architecture has adopted the Agenda, and how actors within the UN resist the Agenda, both passively and actively. It then provides an overview of the UN's mediation role and how it is institutionalised. The chapter illustrates the different forms UN mediation can take by describing three processes that come up throughout the book: the Great Lakes of Africa (which deals with the national and regional dimensions of the conflict in the DR Congo), Syria, and Yemen. This chapter is especially useful for readers who may not be familiar with the WPS Agenda in the UN system and/or UN mediation.

Chapter 6 analyses narrative representations of local women, who feature throughout UN mediation texts as ‘the women’. This subject position is multifaceted and articulated differently according to different logics of UN mediation. Especially within the logic of UN mediation as a science, ‘the women’ are expected to play a legitimating, information-providing role to support the UN. This is an extractive, rather than an empowering, relationship. UN narratives position ‘the women’s’ labour as central to mediation effectiveness, but they also question their abilities and authenticity as representatives of their communities. Capacity-building training is one method that the UN, and particularly gender advisors, use to discipline women into appropriate forms of participation. The logic of UN mediation as an art has less use for 'the women' in its narratives and instead questions whether they are 'political enough' to be appropriate representatives in negotiations. In turn, local women resist and navigate the subject position of ‘the women’ through strategic essentialism, critique, or opting out.