The Levant
OrientalismThe Levant is a region whose significance in Edward Said’s account exceeds its geographical boundaries: it became one of the principal settings in which European knowledge of the Orient was assembled alongside imperial power. From the Bible lands and early travel accounts to British and French rivalry and modern scholarship, the region was repeatedly made legible through Western categories that could obscure its own histories and the voices of its inhabitants.
Definition and Historical Place
In Said’s account, the Levant belongs to the Near Orient, a familiar sphere within the West’s imaginative geography. The Orient could be treated as an Old World to which Europeans returned, or as a new world inviting discovery and reordering. The Levant was associated with the former: a region already mapped in Western thought through Biblical history and earlier encounters, yet continually represented as foreign and available for renewed interpretation.
The region’s place in Orientalist thought was not simply a matter of location. The Bible and the rise of Christianity, accounts of travelers such as Marco Polo, and later travel and commercial writing helped create an archive through which the Orient was encountered. Journey, history, fable, stereotype, and polemical confrontation became recurring forms. They offered ways to recognize unfamiliar places by fitting them into established patterns, turning novelty into something more manageable for Western readers.
Imperial Rivalry and the Production of Knowledge
The Levant was central to the especially close British and French involvement in the Orient. Said describes Orientalism as a cultural enterprise encompassing imagination, scholarship, colonial armies and administrators, and the study of Biblical lands. From the beginning of the nineteenth century until the end of the Second World War, Britain and France dominated both the region and the intellectual enterprise that represented it; after the war, the United States assumed a comparable position of influence.
British and French imperial spheres in the Orient lay beside one another, overlapped, and were sometimes contested. Their rivalry was particularly intense in the Arab Near East, where Islam was treated as a defining cultural and racial marker. The two powers could compete over territory while sharing a broader intellectual framework: an archive of ideas that attributed regular characteristics and a particular mentality to the people it described. In this way, the Levant was not only an imperial arena but also a setting in which knowledge helped make imperial rule and intervention intelligible.
Representation, Travel, and Unequal Voice
Said’s analysis emphasizes that Orientalist representation was produced from unequal positions. His example of Gustave Flaubert’s encounter with Kuchuk Hanem, an Egyptian dancer and courtesan, shows how a Western traveler could turn a particular woman into a widely influential model of the Oriental woman. Flaubert spoke for her and represented her to his readers; the account gave her no comparable opportunity to narrate her own feelings, presence, or history. The imbalance between traveler and represented subject illustrates a broader pattern of power in Western accounts of the region.
Travel writing also managed what European visitors found unsettling. Edward William Lane, for example, reorganized descriptions of Egyptian life into detailed items in a normative European prose style, editing away elements that might disturb European expectations. Said’s discussion places such writing within a larger representational practice: the Levant and neighboring regions were rendered familiar through description, classification, and selection, while the authority to decide what counted as knowledge remained largely with European observers.
Historical Record and Its Alternatives
Said contrasts the monumental French account of Egypt in Description de l’Égypte with the three-volume account of the invasion by Abdal-Rahman al-Jabarti, who wrote from the standpoint of the invaded. The scale and institutional backing of the French work—produced by a corps of scholars supported by a colonial army—dwarfed the individual testimony of al-Jabarti, whom Napoleon’s account left unknown and ignored. Their difference is not merely one of style or size: each records the encounter from a distinct position within its unequal conditions.
That contrast clarifies the stakes of historical representation for the Levant and the wider Orient. Imperial description could displace local history by presenting the region through categories aligned with European knowledge and political purposes. Yet the existence of accounts such as al-Jabarti’s makes that displacement visible and complicates any simple story of an unbridgeable East–West opposition. Said’s attention to historical sources and to the recovery of subordinated perspectives likewise informs his discussion of Subaltern Studies, whose historians sought to restore the roles of the urban poor and rural masses to the writing of Indian history.
Modern Readings and Continuing Significance
Said rejects the idea that the region possesses a fixed, timeless essence waiting to be described. He argues that representations of the Orient have helped shape Western knowledge and power, while also insisting on the varied histories and capacities of Arab and Muslim societies. The Levant matters in this argument as a place repeatedly interpreted through inherited frameworks, not as proof of a permanent division between two homogeneous civilizations.
The international reception of Orientalism extended these questions into different intellectual and linguistic contexts. Kamal Abu Deeb’s Arabic translation, for instance, rendered technical vocabulary through the resources of classical Arabic rhetoric, treating the work as a contribution to a tradition capable of addressing another on terms of cultural adequacy and equality. Yet Said observed that some Arabic responses framed the book chiefly through a confrontation between an Arab world and a Western world, obscuring his intention to criticize systems of domination rather than affirm opposing identities. The Levant’s significance thus remains bound to a larger question: how to study historical difference without turning it into a fixed justification for hostility or control.
