Top Quotes: “Oman: Politics and Society in the Qaboos State” — Marc Valeri

“North of the mountains stretches the Batina, a coastal plain which is only 30 kilometres wide. Greater Muscat lies at the eastern end of this plain. Because of its agricultural potential (palm groves, fruit, vegetables, cereals) the Batina is the most populated region of the country.”

“When Sultan Jaboos overthrew his father in July 1970 and assumed the title of Sultan, about fifteen years of civil war had been highlighting the social and political divisions of a territory officially known as the “Sultanate of Muscat and Oman” and marked by extreme international isolation. While the country was far behind its neighbours of the north of the Persian Gulf in oil production — which had started in Oman only in 1967 — and there were huge problems in Dhofar, where two-thirds of the province was out of control, the new ruler possessed no legitimacy at all to rule. Neither his father nor he had seized independence from a colonising power; on the contrary Sultan Qaboos, who was not yet thirty, acceded to the throne, and was granted the official independence of the Sultanate, thanks to the British.

Against this background, and given the sensitivity of its geostrategic position, the sociopolitical stability that has characterised the Sultanate for almost forty years now stands out even more. Almost never has the banning of parties or other means of public expression generated organised protests in this monarchy where the ruler holds concurrently the positions of Head of State, commander in chief of the armed forces, Prime Minister, Minister of Defence and Minister of Foreign Affairs.”

“At the beginning of the Christian era, colonies of Persian-origin peoples were settled in the Batina and the interior. But it was only after the bursting of Marib dam, in Yemen, in 120 AD that the biggest Arab migrations occurred, in two waves: one through central Arabia and the Persian Gulf coast, the other in the south, by land (Hadramaut) and sea. These two migration waves are at the origin of the tribal affiliations that emerged in Oman, in the form of two alliances — the “Nizarite” tribes, derived from migrants coming by the north, and “Yemenite” ones.”

“Every Omani, whatever his group or his native region, can be integrated in a three-level vertical classification within this ribe. At the top, the “nobles” (mubala or arab; sometimes ast) are regarded as the descendants of the original heart of the Arab tribe and then regarded as the descendants of the original heart of the Arab tribe and then of the eponymous ancestor. The sheikh belongs to one of these lineages. At an intermediate level are two categories: the bayassara (sing. bayssar, or “mixed-race”), descendants of Arabs and slaves, and zuti (“gipsies”). The latter are probably descendants of the tribe’s prisoners of war, members of another tribe who sought asylum for economic reasons and became integrated, or the first settlers before the arrival of Arab tribes; they often are regarded as the tribe’s clients (mawala) or its tributaries. Many professional activities remain the zutis’ prerogative. Outside Muscat (in the Batina, Dakhliyya, Sharqiyya), manual know-how related to work with raw materials like metal (blacksmiths, jewellers), leather (tanners, shoemakers), stone (masons) or animals (fishermen, butchers) is still nowadays transmitted within the local zuti groups. Zuti women are the only ones, in some rural areas, to take care of excision, and zuti men of circumcision.

Lastly, the lower level is occupied by the descendants of slaves brought from Africa — khadam or akhdam (“servants”), also called abid (“slaves”) or zunuj (sing. zinj, “Black”) in Sur and the Dhofar region. Khadam and mawala are considered as belonging to the solidarity group of the masters they depended on historically. All tribesmen, whatever their class, bear the group’s name. In Dhofar alone, lower groups bear distinct surnames, which are nevertheless perfectly “situable” in the tribal landscape, in particular for connecting them to a noble group. Some districts remain almost exclusively populated by former slaves, like seafront areas of Salalah, Suwayq, Sur and Sohar. This geographical separation allows a symbolic distinction between the different social groups to continue, and vice versa.

These tribal classes do not determine automatically an individual’s socio-professional rank, even if they strongly did in the past. For thirty years, unprecedented rural migration combined with the new state’s official discourse preaching equality of rights and conditions for all Omanis slowed down the pre-eminence of this classification in daily social relations. Nevertheless some former client groups, either for lack of alternative or out of habit, remain connected to their former masters. A young Omani expressed the surprise he had when visiting a sheikh in the Batina region: “I needed a handkerchief and I started to get up to go to take it. But the sheikh put his hand on my shoulder to make me sit and said: ‘In this house, nobody gets up for a handkerchief. The handkerchief comes to you’: the khadim must anticipate your desires to bring it to you, even before you request it.””

“As the most recent works of archaeologists show, the history of the two shores of the Gulf of Oman saw population movements at an early stage. But the contemporary presence in Oman of the people native to Baluchistan comes from the need for the Omani rulers, as early as the Ya’arubi period, to raise a mercenary army so as not to be dependent on the internal tribal forces. Such a practice has lasted until now.

The contacts intensified following the occupation of the northern shore of the Gulf of Oman by the Sultans of Muscat in 1794 (Gwadar was sold to Pakistan only in 1958). Throughout the nineteenth century, Sultan Sa’id chose Baluchi contingents to constitute the backbone of his army and assert his control on the East African coast. Similarly in 1920, so as to face the challenges from Inner Oman tribes and replace the British Indian Army which ensured his security, the Sultan of Muscat chose to enlist soldiers from Iranian Sistan and Baluchistan.

In Omani territory, the Baluchi-origin populations are Sunni and are the most numerous Omani non-Ibadi group. They are settled especially in the old towns of Muscat and Muttrah, and in the coastal Batina plain. Since 2000 a major urban renewal plan has forced the resettlement of many Baluchis in the western suburbs of Muscat, like al-Khud. Other old centres of Baluchi-origin people are located near Ibri (Dhahira) and Quriyat (south of Muscat). The total number of Omanis of Baluchi origin is estimated between 200,000 and 300,000, equally spread between the capital and the Batina. Family connections with Baluchistan vary; many people, who hold dual nationality, still possess lands there and go back for major events.”

“The Omani population of Indian origin has historically been concentrated in Muscat and Muttrah, owing to their long involvement in maritime trade. They are divided into two major groups, the Shi i Lawatiyya (sing. Lawati) and the Banyan, who belong to the Hindu faith.

The settlement of the first Hindus in Oman, who came from Sind and the Kutch Peninsula in Gujarat, is very old, as the ruins of a temple in the historic town of Qalhat are mentioned in the fifteenth century. At the end of the eighteenth century the Danish traveller Carsten Niebuhr counted 1,200 Banyan in Muscat. A century later, the trade network spread from Zanzibar, where the Banyan and the Lawatiyya acted as bankers for Said bin Sultan, to Bombay via Muscat, where they used four temples at that time. The economic influence of those who were called at that time “Indians” (Banyan and Lawatiyya) in the Omani expansion to Africa was considerable. A gradual division of labour seems to have been established in the nineteenth century between the “Arabs”, who dominated the trade and the transport of goods centred on the Muscat-Zanzibar-Central Africa axis (slaves, arms, etc.), and the “Indians”, who managed the financial activities and the trade involving the Indian subcontinent (rice, sugar). At the moment there must be 500 to 1,000 Banyan settled in Oman; they live in Muscat, Muttrah and Salalah and on the Batina coast (Sohar, Shinas, Suwayq, etc.). Most families have been established for six or seven generations. They nevertheless retain profound links with the town of Mandvi, where many Banyan of Muscat have their roots, and with Bombay, where the Banyan who returned to India settled. They usually invest their resources in these towns in real estate, and come back regularly to maintain the matrimonial connections. Few of these Hindus have Omani nationality today, so that they remain a very interdependent community, a bit on the fringe of society as a whole. Their isolation is enhanced by their difficulty with the Arabic language; their vernacular tongue is Kutchi, which is related to Lawati, Sindi and Gujarati. The community’s centre of gravity is the Hindu Association, whose duty is to run the two temples (in Muscat and Darsayt), the four crematoria (Sohar, Sur, Salalah and Tbri) and the religious feasts.

Known also as “Khodja” or “Hyderabadi” (from the name of the Pakistani town in Sind), the Lawatiyya claim a presence in Oman that goes back four centuries, according to the date recorded in one of their Muttrah districts. While their origins are still the subject of divergent interpretations, most of the Lawatiyya families appear to have settled in Oman in several migration waves from Sind between 1780 and 1850. At that time, the Lawatiyya enjoyed the status of British subjects and therefore the protection of extra-territoriality. Initially disciples of the Aga Khan (Isma’ili Shia), the Lawatiyya were excommunicated after a quarrel over the legitimacy of the succession in 1862. This is the origin of the allegiance of the Lawatiyya, those of Oman but also those settled in Zanzibar, to the Twelver Shia, mostly linked to the marja iyya of Najaf.

The Lawatiyya were for long separated from the rest of Omani society as they spoke Khodjki (or Lawati), which is close to Sindi and Gujarati, and lived in a closed district on the seashore of Muttrah, the sur al-lawati-ya (“Lawatiyya’s enclosure”). Closed to non-Lawati individuals until the 1970s, this area, which is still inaccessible to outsiders not accompanied by a member of the community, is only inhabited by a hundred people, and only comes to life on religious occasions. The Lawati language is still spoken, but unlike the Banyan, the Lawatiyya have for long worn the Omani dishdasha, and speak Arabic as their vehicular language. They are estimated to be between 20,000 and 30,000 and live exclusively in the capital (Mut-trah, Ruwi, Seeb districts) and in the Batina (al-Masna’a, al-Khabura, Sohar). Despite their small number, the Lawatiyya have a large economic influence.”

“There was a change from selection by merit for the supreme position to a hereditary principle. Going back to the al-Ya’arubi Imams only, the succession has been handed down from father to son since the second ruler, Sultan I bin Saif, and from brother to brother on one occasion. This process lasted for all the nineteenth century and generated a tradition of parricide and fratricide which runs through the whole of modern and contemporary Omani political history. In 1806 Said bin Sultan, who was seventeen, took power, murdering his cousin Badr, and pacified the territory, exiling some of the family members or operating vendettas, as against his cousin Azzan’s sons, Qais and Hamud. In 1850, Hamud was murdered by Sa’id’s son Thuwaini. In 1856 both sons of Said, Majid and Thuwaini, fought each other over the imperial legacy. And ten years later, Thuwaini, who was Sultan of Muscat, died at the hands of his own son Salim.”

“This “divide and rule” policy sought to carve up the region in order to allow survival of small political entities without direct interaction between each other. On the basis of these sheikhdoms whose raison d’être was the ruling dynasty, the British compartmentalised social and political activity into small local arenas, under the supervision of a ruler whose visibility was institutionalised. The signing of multiple bilateral agreements between London and the various emirates reinforced the fragmentation of sovereignties and the sometimes “artificial” peculiarities of one compared to the other. Indeed, the establishment of separate relationships between London and each of them increased each state’s self-perception of a genuine identity, all the more so as London encouraged them to create their own symbols of sovereignty, such as passports, national anthems or merchant marine flags. This trend was to be strengthened when oil companies burst into the region; as they negotiated with each ruler the clauses of the contracts as well as the concession areas, they favoured the strict delimitation of territories of sovereignty. Yet, because the disparities in oil and material resources disrupted the regional balance, tensions exacerbated, and so did the perception of belonging to distinct political entities.

In Oman, London’s action reinforced the hierarchisation of society with, at the top, the ruler, who was granted protection and immunity when facing political demands from other members of the royal family. In exchange, the latter were themselves distinguished from the rest of the people, thanks to the establishment of a “civil list” for their personal expenditure, taking up one-third of the Sultanate’s total budget in the 1930s.

As long as the established rulers respected the treaties and their duties, they enjoyed full British support — political, sometimes military.”

“The Seeb agreement ratified a sharing of roles between three actors that John Wilkinson calls the Omani “old guard.” The interior tribes, who enjoyed effective control over the greater part of the territory, had the feeling of having gained their independence; Sultan Taimur could consider that he had saved face in preserving a territory, even if it was restricted to the Batina, Muscat and Salalah, over which he enjoyed full sovereignty, while retaining formal the authority over the whole territory. Lastly, the British kept the upper hand over a divided and weakened Oman, whose future depended directly on their goodwill. The agreement established the foundations of a political situation that Frederick Bailey called “encapsulation” of two structures. The leaders of the encapsulating structure, here embodied by the British, in fact allowed those of the encapsulated entities to keep control at a local level, as long as the prevailing political order fitted the needs defined by the larger structure. This “subcontracting” of social control, in which each of the three actors would have an interest in maintaining the existing conditions, was a very effective instrument for preserving the political order. In 1920, in fact, a status quo of more than thirty years started; it would be challenged only by the intrusion into the game of new players, attracted by the smell of oil.”

“From the beginning of 1920, a British adviser was appointed to establish the beginnings of an administration and to control the finances according to New Delhi’s interests. From 1925 to 1931 a British financial adviser, Bertram Thomas, had a full-time seat on the council, where he acquired more and more influence. British control over Oman’s affairs had never been so direct, as shown in the 1923 treaty, which laid down that no oil concession could be granted on the territory before New Delhi had given its approval, and in the direct British military interventions to crush local rebellions, as in Khasab and Sur in 1930.”

“The action had until then been limited to Dhofar, but now the movement set as its objective the extension of the struggle to the whole of Oman and the Trucial Emirates. The idea of social revolution went with the armed struggle: education for all (linked to the spread of Mao, Lenin and Che Guevara texts), abolition of slavery, women’s emancipation (abolition of polygamy and dowry), and the struggle against tribalism were proclaimed.”

“The PFLO stronghold of Sharshati, on the Yemeni border, fell just before the town of Dalkut on 1 December. Most of the rebels reached South Yemen, and on 11 December 1975 Sultan Qaboos proclaimed the official end of the war. However, small well-equipped rebel groups kept on fighting fiercely for three years. In 1982 the arrest near Muscat of rebels who were carrying weapons to Dhofar confirmed the opinion of a SAOF officer who took part in these late operations: “The situation for the British around 1980 was comparable to Afghanistan for the Americans in 2003.” The fighting would actually cease between 1983 and 1985.

Foreign help proved decisive in reversing a situation which was extremely difficult for the Muscat ruler in the early 1970s. Among these external forces, the British played a deciding role. Besides their support in equipment, their forces numbered between 1,000 and 1,500 in Dhofar in December 1975, they represented the overwhelming majority of military, medical, technical and even intelligence officers on the field and were divided into three categories: SAS members, officially there to train the Omani forces; individual “contract officers”, usually former RAF members; and staff “seconded” from the British Ministry of Defence to the Sultan of Oman.

In the Arab world, only Jordan backed Qaboos’ regime without reserve. King Husain went personally twice to Dhofar, but also allocated large-scale equipment supplies and made intelligence staff available to the Sultan. On a much lesser scale, Saudi Arabia’s support, through financial and material help since 1972, indirectly convinced South Yemen to moderate its involvement in the conflict. Lastly, Egyptian military advisers helped the Sultan’s army in the mid-1970s.

Iran actively involved itself in the conflict after 1972; 5,000 Iranian personnel were in Dhofar in 1975. The Dhofar war was used by the Shah as a training ground for his youngest troops, which explains both the frequent turnover and the heavy losses Iran suffered. Pakistan and Sri Lanka, by their considerable help, and India, which put military instructors at Oman’s disposal, also participated in the war effort.”

“Besides this castrating tutelage, the Sultan and the British shared the idea that out of control social and economic development would inevitably lead to the emergence of political opposition. The second half of Sa’id’s rule was marked by the constant fear of having to face such problems. At that time a wide range of restrictions, directed at the Omanis while British or PDO employees were exempted, were in force. Anything that could favour, even indirectly, the exchange or spread of “foreign” or “modern” ideas had to be opposed. Owning a car or projecting a film, importing newspapers, books or even medicine, all this has to be submitted strictly to the Sultan’s agreement. Drinking alcohol, smoking in public, opening restaurants, riding bicycles, playing football or music, and wearing glasses, closed shoes, trousers of any “foreign dress” were prohibited.

Similarly, all entry permits for the country, even for journalists or diplomatic missions, were stopped after 1965, when an unfavourable report by the UN ad hoc committee was published. The Sultan maintained no diplomatic relations, as his only official foreign representation was a British honorary consul in London who also administered his financial interests. Any Omani who wanted to travel within the country or abroad had to ask for special permission from the Sultan. Three hours after twilight, the doors of Muscat and Muttrah were shut down until the morning and nobody was allowed to go in and out without the permission of Ahmad bin Ibrahim. Anybody who moved within those towns after sunset had to carry a lantern at eye level to be recognised by the police. Moreover, the authorities proved reluctant to make the territory benefit from development, even a minimal one. Running water and electricity, provided by electricity generating systems, were reserved to the Sultan’s residences and those of his protégés in Muscat and Salalah, and the PDO compound near the capital, which was equipped with air-conditioning from generators, a running water system, a small hospital and a school.

These dreadful conditions had consequences at the social level; until 1970, the Sultan proved hostile to the development of education and health services in his country. He considered for instance that the education system established by the British in India was the basic cause of the unrest which led to independence in 1947: “The teachers would come from Cairo and spread Nasser’s seditious ideas among their pupils. And what is there here for a young man with education? He would go to the university in Cairo or to […] London, finish in Moscow and come back here to foment trouble.”

In 1970, the whole territory had only three “Western” elementary schools — in Muscat, Muttrah and Salalah — with 1,200 pupils, but also almost fifty Koranic schools which welcomed 4,800 children. In a very cynical way the Sultan justified his rejection of health planning: “We do not need hospitals here. Oman is a very poor country which can only support a small population. At present many children die in infancy and so the population does not increase. If we build clinics many more will survive. But for what? To starve?”

In 1970, there were forty rudimentary health centres in Oman — most of them established under Hugh Boustead’s administration in the 1960s including five hospitals. The poverty of the health service structures explained the appalling health conditions in the country. Malaria, trachoma, leprosy were common diseases, as well as malnutrition and anae-mia due to meat deficiency. Pneumonia proved usually fatal for Inner Oman inhabitants, because the journey to Muttrah by donkey took so long. This disastrous economic and social situation was the main reason for the increase of Omanis’ expatriation. At the end of the 1960s, more than 50,000 Omanis lived in the other Gulf emirates, including 11,000 in Bahrain (28% of the foreigners in Bahrain in 1971) and 14,000 in Kuwait. They occupied usually subordinate positions, in particular the ones neglected by the nationals: crew on the pearl boats in Bahrain, unskilled workers in agriculture and in the oil sectors in Kuwait and Bahrain. The Dhofaris clustered in Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Oatar in the armed forces, police and in the building sector.”

“Qaboos bin Sa’id was born in 1940 in Salalah; he is the son of a Bait Ma’ashani sheikh’s daughter from the Dhofari Oara tribe. When he was 16, his father sent him to Sandhurst for military studies; he completed his training with the British Army of the Rhine, before serving a one-year training period with Bedfordshire County Council, so as to study local government. When Qaboos came back to Salalah in 1964 after a world tour, Sa’id put him under house arrest. Qaboos, who was instructed only to concentrate on Islamic studies, tried to convince his rare visitors, mostly British, to talk to his father in order to entrust him with responsibilities. Qaboos’ situation in Salalah thus recalled that of the potential successors of Ottoman sultans in the seventeenth century, who were kept in confinement to prevent them from fomenting a coup.

The British authorities’ role in the coup was fundamental. Officers who served the Sultan — like the Secretary of Defence, Hugh Oldman, and the intelligence chief — and the official representatives of London in the Gulf, like the British Consul in Muscat and the Political Resident in the Gulf, were all involved. None of the Al Said family members participated directly, as most of them were in exile in the Gulf.

In the evening of 23 July 1970, Sheikh Buraik al-Ghafiri, son of the Dhofar province wali, broke into the palace with Omani soldiers; in the gunfight started by Sa’id’s slaves, the Sultan was injured, and soon he was forced to sign his abdication in favour of his son. He was evacuated to Bahrain by plane on the following day, and then to England. He would spend the end of his life in London, where he died on 19 October 1972.”

“Muscat waited until 2005 to establish official diplomatic relations with Tanzania, out of dislike for the latter’s “African socialism” ideology. Similarly, Oman has been reluctant to grant work permits to Nepalese, Palestinians, Syrians or Yemenis because of the obsession with a danger of Oman being infected by socialist ideas. This explains that workers from other Arab countries in Oman only represent 4.3% of all foreign employees, more than half of them being Egyptians.”

“In 1986, Sultan Qaboos University opened near Muscat with five faculties (education and Islamic sciences, engineering, science, agriculture and medicine), to which a department of arts was later added in 1987 and a department of commerce in 1993. Students who obtain 90% or more in their secondary school certificate are admitted. A Ministry of Higher Education was established in 1994 to cope with the huge need in training and technical education. In 2007–8, 14,722 students, half of them female, were registered at Sultan Qaboos University. There are no fees to pay and all the students can enjoy, if they wish, free housing on the campus and a monthly allowance of 80 Omani rials (OR). Moreover, Oman has several private universities — two in Muscat, one in Sur, Salalah, Nizwa, Sohar and Buraimi — and around ten private technical institutes. More than 11,500 Omanis (49% female) currently study abroad, 45% of them being registered in the UAE.”

“The bureaucratisation of society illustrates the politica and social control the ruler has implemented over the territory. As Nazih Ayubi has explained, “through the creation, expansion and maintenance of a bureaucracy, the rulers of the oil-state are paying the citizen […]z Instead of the usual situation of the state taxing the citizen (in return for offering him services), here the citizen is taxing the state — by acquiring a government payment — in return for staying quiet, for not invoking tribal rivalries, and for not challenging the ruling family’s position.”

“Thus, in the Gulf, the terms of the famous formula have been reversed to become: “no representation without taxation”.”

“This process of introducing universal standardised teaching was part of the efforts driven by the authorities to spread Omani national ideology. This is confirmed by the language policy: if all Omanis were able to speak Arabic, they were more likely to be reached by the regime’s ideology. In Inner Oman especially, local dialects which have been officially presented as archaic and viewed with condescension by younger generations are slowly disappearing in favour of standard Omani Arabic which is spoken all over the territory, for which Muscat set the tone. The areas where Arabic is least spoken, even at school, are those where the state, and hence national feeling, have faced the greatest obstacles in getting established. In the Jabru and Wadi Aday quarters, in Western Muttrah, children were still in 2004 using the Baluchi and Swahili languages as vernaculars, to the great displeasure of schoolteachers from Inner Oman.’

In Oman, a very large proportion of people speak two or three languages fluently, the use of a particular language depending on the person one is talking with and the social situation. But in Oman’s nation-building process, language has never held the central position that it had in comparable processes in nineteenth-century Europe. This can be explained by the fact that Sultan Qaboos’ main political allies in the 1970s — Baluchi soldiers, Omanis returning from overseas, and Muscat merchants — did not have Arabic as their mother tongue, and never played the role of a scholarly elite at the origin of a separate national culture; these groups on the fringe of Oman’s historical heart could not lead the nation-building process.”

“All national civil servants have to wear a white dishdasha at work. Similatly, the spread of the kumma, an embroidered multicoloured round cap around which a masar (cashmere scarf) is wrapped for official ceremonies, is an additional means to distinguish symbolically what is “inside” and “ourside” Oman; it helps to make concrete the new national community everybody has the duty to belong to with pride.”

“As a consequence of bureau. cratisation of jobs and ways of life, post-1970 Oman has been characterised by internal migration on a scale unknown before. Moving out of the community area was reserved in former times to “intermediate power” (walis, adis and tribal sheikhs), but it suddenly extended to all social strata. Recruitment for jobs, by government departments at a national level, led individuals to acquire financial autonomy and sometimes to start a family far away from their clan. The Muscat urban area, which grew from 40,000 inhabitants to more than 500,000 within twenty years, best illustrates the resulting drift from the land. This kind of work-induced migration represented certainly the most powerful vector for language standardisation at a national level, but also for changes in cultural customs, with fast adoption of a nuclear family model – especially since, in many cases, it was stipulated in a marriage agreement that the couple had to settle independently as soon as possible, as young women usually refuse to live under the same roof as the husband’s family. State distribution of lands on an individual basis consolidated autonomy from the clan.

The social activities of tribesmen, formerly restricted to the village and its vicinity, broadened into larger networks, such as work colleagues, new neighbours, parents of children going to the same schools. This helped to marginalise the influence of old solidarity groups on daily life and favoured a slow homogenisation of references within a national framework which imposed itself on everybody. In addition the national armed forces served as a means of inclusion in the national community for many Omanis.”

“Even though censorship was officially abolished in 1985, the press is still governed by a 1984 law which laid down that all publications and journalists must be registered with the Ministry of Information. The pressure the latter still exerts on the Omani press today explains why it gives no accounts of any social or political controversy and no criticisms of the regime are expressed.”

“They mostly use news reports produced by the official press agency, the Oman News Agency (ONA), which was created in May 1986 and placed under the Ministry of Information’s authority in July 2006 by a Sultan’s decree. Nevertheless the press allows people to remain informed of decrees and also, indirectly, of the Sultan’s favours towards groups or personalities.”

“Twentieth-century man is only skimmed over, leaving a black hole between the imperial nineteenth century and the nahda. Besides, it is significant that Ibadism is only referred as an Omani-based “variation” of Islam; its political dimension, especially in modern and contemporary times, is never evoked.

In this way the post-1970 authorities seek to conceal political troubles and actual division of the territory between two political entities, thus promoting political oblivion. The first idea is to obscure the political reality on the ground in the first half of the twentieth century, during which the Sultan derived his power from British protection and stood on equal political terms with the Imam, as the balance was only maintained by a tripartite pact overseen by the British.”

“As for the new regime’s symbols, the “Sultanate of Muscat and Oman” was renamed “Sultanate of Oman” on 9 August, in order to mark the unification of the territory under the single centralised authority of the Sultan.”

“The Omani government has established strict rules in the building and public works sector. White and beige are the only approved colours for outside walls of new building, whose height rarely goes above five storeys. This uniform model legislation requires owners of roof water tanks to hide each one inside a crenellated white cylinder, displaying the ‘Inner Oman fort’ architecture, so as not to clash with the harmony sought. Similarly, air-conditioners on buildings’ facades have to be encapsulated into an open-work box symbolising a musharabieh.”

“The forts of Muttrah and Inner Oman, like Bahla, Rustaq, Sohar, Nakhl and Nizwa, best exemplify this policy. They are subject of the same instrumentalisation of memory, as they have been recently done up to look new. Just as the European nineteenth century did not like crumbling old buildings and made a nice whole, clean and accomplished through imagination of what existed before, the post-1970 Sultanate of Oman prefers rehabilitated monuments in accordance with contemporary political requirements rather than historical plausibility. These replicas of the glorious Omani Imamate are now supposedly rebuilt with the aim of cutting off their connection with the past and silencing their historical testimony to the younger generations. One notable exception is the former tribal fiefs of the Jebel Akhdar that were bombed by the British air force (Tanuf) or were the site of fierce fighting in the 1950s (al-Ghafat). As manifest evidence of the almost divine punishment that swoops down on anyone who disobeys the sultan’s orders, these villages have been left carefully untouched.”

“The British influence has been eroded for fifteen years, but it remains — British officers in the Omani security forces are still estimated at 500. This trust in actors who are not involved in the political and historical balances of the country has never failed. A senior foreign official in Muscat confirmed the existence of an agreement with Pakistan; it apparently allows the Omani army to recruit approximately 2,000 men every year in Baluchistan and to grant them and their families Omani nationality in a short time.”

“The massive inlux of workers from the Indian sub-continent and Middle Eastern countries Egypt, Sudan, Jordan) in quest of employment started after 1970. Official Omani figures state that foreigners represented 7% of the workforce (both public and private sectors) in 1970 — and 65% ten years later! Between 1980 and 1985, the number of foreign workers doubled in the private sector (from 131,000 in 1980 to 275,000 in 1985) as well as in the public sector (27,500 against 15,400).

The first Omanisation steps occurred in the military sector after the end of the Dhofar war. The proportion of national officers in the army increased from 51% in 1980 to 62% in 1985. On the civilian side, the Minister of Labour announced in April 1987 that it was forbidden to hire foreigners in eleven categories of jobs, like public relations officer, security officer, driver, bus or taxi driver, fisherman and shepherd. This decree represented the first major step aimed at slowing down the increase in numbers of foreign workers in the Sultanate.”

“In October 1994, the Ministry of Labour and Social Services announced quotas to be respected in various branches of the private sector; in 2000, the nationals would have to be 60% of employees in the storage, communications and transport sectors; 45% in finance, insurance and real estate; 35% in industry, and 30% in hotels and catering. The following year, a tax to finance Omanis’ vocational training was deducted from companies proportionally to the number of expatriate employees; this had the additional motive of diminishing the salary differentials between nationals and foreigners. Until the mid-1990s, the absorption by the civil and military public sectors of the majority of Omanis entering the labour market had hidden the slowness of Omanisation in companies, which did not take the official injunction seriously.

In parallel to the Fifth Plan (1996–2000) aiming to promote the private sector’s share in the economy, a long-term programme entitled “Oman 2020: Vision for Oman’s Economy” was established in June 1995. Two series of objectives over a 25-year period were set out. The first was economic diversification: the oil sector’s share in Oman’s GDP had to fall from 41% in 1996 to 9% by 2020, while that of gas was to increase from less than 1% to 10%, and that of non-oil industries from 7.5% to 29%. The second had to do with human resources and employment. First, it was planned to help raise women’s share in the working population from 6% in 1995 to 12% in 2020, so as to reach a total rate of 50% of the working population. At the same time, the rates of nationals in public and private sectors must increase from 68 to 95% and from 7.5 to 75% respectively, while the share of expatriates in the whole population must be reduced from 25% in 1995 to 15% by 2020. Confronted with young Omanis’ reluctance to take private sector jobs, less well paid and categorised as jobs for Asian immigrants, Sultan Qaboos reminded people in November 1998 that “all Omani youth should accept this work unhesitatingly and without false pride.” The true turning point in government policy came two years later.”

“The Sixth Plan (2001–5) again focused on economic diversification, through tourism and industry, and on the growing role the private sector has to play. On employment, the authorities planned that 134,000 Omanis would enter the labour market during these five years. They estimated the number of jobs available at 110,000, 92% in the private sector. The Plan provided for total Omanisation over five years in 24 low-skilled occupations, including fruit and vegetables truck drivers, food and drink employees and retailers, fuel station employees, telephone services, etc. Other more technical professions, like those of electrician, plumber, goldsmith, tailor, hairdresser and painter, were supposed to follow suit.”

“The nationals enjoy a set of social measures the expats do not have, for instance a minimum wage (OR 140 for a full-time unskilled or hanc, for instance a minimum wage (OR 140 for a full-time unskilled jobs) and protection against dismissal except for a serious fault. While these provisions have a legitimate aim of protecting employees, the fact that they lead to a distinction between two categories of employees with unequal rights penalises de facto the nationals’ access to jobs. A former senior state official who went over to the private sector summarised the situation with explicit words: “Never will a government will be able to force companies to prefer badly-trained Omanis to experienced Indians, with a salary three to five times lower.”

“The manager of an oil industry supply company said even more explicitly:

It is 50% more expensive to have an Omani employee than an Indian one, the job and conditions being equal, and even if you take into account the legal penalties linked to the issuing of a labour card for an expatriate. You can ask an Indian worker to stay two years night and day at an oil site in the desert for OR 35 per month; with an Omani, it’s not possible because he has a family and he will ask to come back from Wednesday night to Saturday morning to Muscat and you have to pay him OR 120! So I prefer to pay an Omani and ask him to stay at home, and keep the Indian guy working.”

“In Salalah, the word “Omani” refers in all cases to an Omani who is a native of the north (whether Arab or Baluchi). Many people in Salalah still refuse to define themselves as “Omani”, preferring to call themselves “Dhofari”.”

“Very few Omanis who settled in Africa were able to make the journey to Oman and back to have a more realistic perception of the “native country” than the one passed on by imagination and dreams. Therefore the trauma they experienced upon finding a poor desert territory was nothing compared with the gap they felt between the welcome they expected to receive and the distrust they faced, as much from the authorities — which sometimes saw their education and cosmopolitanism as a threat to social stability — as from their own tribes. Mutual frustrations soon developed. The native Omanis complained about the sudden inflation, imputed to the arrival of a richer population, thought to have ideas above their status. On the contrary, the returnees accused their fellow countrymen of ingratitude and of failing to acknowledge the role they played in the social and economic “take-off”, as one woman who came to Oman from inland Tanzania in 1972 highlighted:

““People from Ibra were not happy when we came back. They did not help us, they said that we had gone away… But they forgot that, if we had not sent them money, they would have all died!… When we came back, we went to see the sheikh to know where the family’s properties were. But the cousins said that now all belonged to them, that they themselves had stayed to take care of the family’s assets and cultivate the lands. They held that they had the right to keep it. We got nothing when we came back.”

As the years passed, the mutual prejudices intensified. The back-from-Africa Omanis were criticised for their allegedly less formal behaviour, especially regarding relations between male and female, compared with families which had not migrated. Whatever social positions they had held in East Africa, prejudices and social tensions affecting Swahili-speaking Omanis focused especially on Arabness and Islamic observance. For three decades now, mastery of the Arabic language as a basic marker of contemporary “Omanity” has gone hand-in-hand with the state’s focus on the Arab identity of Oman.”

“Marriages between Swahili-speaking Omanis of low or middle social class and other Omanis remain uncommon. Many young Swahili-speaking Omanis, whose “creolised” way of life was a consequence of the time their families spent abroad, have experienced difficulty in complying with the strict rules governing relations between the sexes observed in Oman. On the other hand, Omanis who did not live in Africa will rarely agree to allow a son to marry a young woman who is perceived to be “independent” in her lifestyle and less “well-behaved” from a religious point of view. “Swahili” weddings are occasions for the assertion of a “Swahili cultural particularism” regarding music and festivities. The ceremonies, mixing families from various social classes, are entertained by musical groups invited from Tanzania or the Congo especially for the occasion.”