Parliaments and Elections in Hereditary Monarchies? Semi-Democracy Experiments in the Gulf

I. Introduction

Western audiences do not as a rule identify Gulf monarchies with constitutionalism, democracy, or elections. These are generally viewed as lacking a constitutional foundation and their monarchical system of governance is conflated with repressive and immutable rule.1 Such assessments lack two foundational qualities, first, the size of local populations, especially as compared to the number of expatriates and second, quests for unity. Qatari citizens account for slightly less than 10% of the country’s entire population,2 while at the same time the granting of citizenship is viewed as an exceptional privilege.3 This renders the local population a minority within its own country, contrary to the Western tradition where citizens generally constitute majorities. Again, unlike the Western liberal political landscapes, the citizens of Gulf states are strongly affiliated to tribes or families; consequently, in order for such states to retain and concretize their unity they must defer to the political demands of their tribes and families.4

It is within this context that the development of Gulf constitutional law and a nascent constitutional tradition should be situated. Just like other Gulf states, Kuwait and Qatar’s political systems can best be described as constitutional hereditary monarchies.5 Even so, articles 1 and 6 of the Qatari and Kuwaiti Constitutions respectively claim that their political systems of governance are democratic.6 The undisputed Arab Gulf leader in constitutional freedoms, chiefly through the introduction of parliamentary elections in the Gulf, has been Kuwait, whose constitutional court has adopted numerous ground-breaking judgments implementing civil and political rights.7 However, as explained in later sections, in 2024 the Kuwaiti leader clawed back many of these liberties. Qatar, as this article will go on to demonstrate, has undergone significant legislative reforms8 chiefly because of its build-up to the 2022 FIFA World Cup.9 This has allowed the country’s leadership to equally expedite constitutional reforms, leading to the introduction of universal elections for its legislative/consultative body. It should also be acknowledged that in the Gulf constitutional tradition, the so-called National Visions play a role that is of equal, if not more, importance to national constitutions themselves and shape national policies at all levels.10 National Visions are general policy documents, further supplemented by more specific policy objectives, which set out a 10-20 course of action for the country in terms of its economy, politics, investment, culture and others.11

Qatar’s first constitution was officially adopted in 1971, which marks the country’s complete break from its former protectorate status.12 It is no accident that its official name is the State of Qatar, which additionally seeks to emphasize that it is not part of the United Arab Emirates (UAE) or any other confederation of states. The 1971 Constitution was proclaimed as a temporary  and transitional instrument.13 In 1999 it was finally time for a permanent constitution to be adopted and a decree of that year set forth a drafting committee for that very purpose.14 Within three years the drafting committee produced the draft of the country’s permanent constitution to the Emir, which was no doubt a historic achievement for a nation with a small constitutional history and no constitutional tradition. A year after the draft, that is in 2003, a referendum was opened to Qatari citizens, which went on to accept it with a sweeping majority.15 The democratic character of the new permanent constitution of 2004 is no doubt reflected in the right of all Qatari nationals to partake in universal elections for the country’s parliamentary/consultative assembly (Shura Council).16 It was not until 2021, however, that the first-ever elections for the Shura Council were held with the adoption of the new Constitution.17

Battaloglu made the point that Qatar’s introduction to political participation was inaugurated with the establishment of the Shura Council.18 This is not accurate, given that universal suffrage was available to Qatari citizens since 1999 at the municipal level in order to vote for their choice of councillors in the Central Municipal Council.19 The first municipal council was set up in the 1950s, well prior to the country’s independence, as reconfigured in 1956.20 In a subsequent section the Article explores the political revolt of 1963 that ignited Law Number 11 of 1963 which set up the country’s first municipality: Doha. This was followed some thirty years later with the introduction of Law Number 1 of 1990, which gave life to the Central Municipal Council placing all towns and villages in the country’s official administrative map and giving local councils power. However, the right to elect local municipal councillors was set forth on the basis of Law Number 12 of 1998, which effectively mandated that Council membership be predicated on elections.21. 

In 2024, Qatar introduced significant constitutional reforms. A referendum was proclaimed, the objective of which was to decide whether or not appointment of all Shura Council parliamentarians should take place through universal suffrage, or whether a quota for each tribe/family should be prescribed. This Article will investigate the background and context of the 2021 Shura Council elections, as well as the rationale for the proposal to revert to an appointing system. This Article will emphasize the parallel development concerning the amendment to the country’s constitutional citizenship policy, which is integral to a better understanding of the 2024 referendum and its ultimate goals. A note on methodology is perhaps important from the outset. Anthropology seeks to elucidate collective human behaviour and assess the particular meanings understood by the participants (or informants in anthropological parlance). These “foreign” lawyers are inadvertent anthropologists. Although their observations are not always accurate or correct, they may well be the first to report on a legal phenomenon and report it in a peer-reviewed article, an op-ed, a blog, a conference or other. To the local legal community, the same phenomenon may be so common that it is not even worthy of discussion or much ink; hence, it goes unreported to the outside world until the foreign legal anthropologist comes along. The same is true of Kuwait and Qatar’s constitutional tradition. For Qatar in particular, its exposition by Qatari scholars is feeble and thus presents an underdeveloped opportunity for greater analysis. Although some bias is inevitable even in the perspective of an outsider, this is certainly far less compared to local lawyers, or those foreign observers that have not lived or worked in the country in question.

The Article is organized as follows: Section [1/2] looks at the classifications in the political science literature that describe Qatar and other hereditary monarchies in the Gulf. Section 3 examines the role, if any, of Islam and the Sharia as either overriding or merely guiding in the constitutional and legislative tradition of Qatar. Section 4 seeks to explain the constitutional sensitivities in Qatar’s constitutional history going back to the 1950s where demands against the British on this very issue were vociferously made. Section 5 looks at the first elections for the Shura Council and examines the rationale a few years later for reverting to an appointment system as a matter of popular demand. This section also examines the thorny issue of voter eligibility, which represented a key claim and has now been settled to the satisfaction of all stakeholders. Section 6 delves into the constitutional relevance of Qatar’s so-called National Vision, a policy instrument that has attained a status akin to constitutions themselves in the majority of Arab Gulf states. Section 7 contains two large sub-sections. The first examines Kuwait’s constitutional history up until 2024. The second subsection takes a look at the recent double dissolution of the country’s parliament through a royal order and asks whether the democratic nature of its political system has been lost forever.

II. The Theoretical Assumptions on the Political Nature of Hereditary Monarchies

The literature on the constitutional arrangements of Gulf monarchies is generally feeble. Broadly speaking it consists of political science scholarship in which the law is conflated with political analyses,22 as well as a small amount of legal scholarship with a heavy imprint on the Egyptian constitutional tradition.23 Political scientists favor broad categorizations of Gulf monarchies, chiefly because this allows the formulation of discrete theoretical models that distinguish them from other classifications. Qatar and other Gulf monarchies are generally described as semi-liberal autocracies with some civil liberties.24 This is meant to distinguish them from closed autocracies encompassing no civil liberties. Ottaway explains that the most important characteristic of such political systems is:

The existence and persistence of mechanisms that effectively prevent the transfer of power through elections from the hands of the incumbent leaders or party to a new political elite or organization. It is the existence of such mechanisms that makes the term semi-authoritarian more appropriate than any that contains the word democracy – if power cannot be transferred by elections, there is little point in describing a country as democratic, even with qualifiers. These mechanisms for blocking power transfers function despite the existence of formally democratic institutions and the degree of political freedom granted to the citizens of the country.25

This model and the limited electoral component that is explained in the article is contrasted from so-called electoral authoritarianism, where general elections are in theory free and fair, albeit the same party stays in power indefinitely.26 This is the case with Turkey and Hungary under Erdogan and Orban, respectively.27

In addition to the above, rather secular, determinations there is a trend in the scholarship concerning legal developments in the Gulf, including constitutional discourse, to situate Islam as a key driver. While often the debate concerns the compatibility of Islam with human rights28 – in which this author finds no confusion – a question that is seldom posited is whether the free and fair election of a theocratic regime would qualify as a democracy or electoral liberalism. Voll emphasizes that there is an “assumption that an Islamic state, even if democratically established, would be transformed into an illiberal and undemocratic theocracy”.29 As will be explained in a subsequent section of this Article, while Islam is entrenched in the Qatari constitution it plays no visible role in constitutional discourse and in fact is relegated as a secondary source of law in most areas of regulation in the country.

In classifying Gulf political systems, and by implication also their constitutional arrangements, political scientists – as well as constitutional law scholars - fail to explain why certain hereditary monarchies are driven towards a particular outcome. It is generally assumed that local rulers are only concerned with the consolidation of power for their personal benefit. This author disagrees with this assumption, at least as far as Qatar is concerned. These assumptions, moreover, ignore the process of gradual constitutionalism that is shaping the Gulf.

III. The Role of Islam in Qatar’s Constitutional Order

In the West there is a fascination about the role of Islam in the civil and legislative life of Muslim-majority countries, chiefly with an emphasis on corporal forms of punishment30 and the consistency of Sharia with human rights.31 This fascination is driven no doubt from the “mythology” of two particular theocracies, namely the Islamic Republic of Iran and the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. In this context, it wrongly conflates all Muslim-majority countries under the banner of Islamist theocracies.32 In the case of Qatar this could not be further from the truth, although Islam is proclaimed as the country’s official religion in article 1 of its Constitution. Apart from article 1 of the Qatari Constitution, which states that Islam (or Sharia) shall be a main source of the country’s legislation, there is nothing else in this instrument that suggests its overriding character. Even article 1 itself does not stipulate that the Sharia is the hierarchically superior source of law, but merely a main law, presumably among several others. This is to be contrasted with similar provisions in other Muslim-majority constitutions, chiefly article 1 of the Saudi Basic Law, which is effectively the Kingdom’s constitution. This reads as follows:

The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is a sovereign Arab Islamic State. Its religion is Islam. Its constitution is Almighty God's Book, The Holy Qur'an, and the Sunna (Traditions) of the Prophet.

The wording of the Saudi Basic Law is in sharp contrast to that of its Qatari counterpart. While the Basic Law is beyond doubt an Islamic constitution, whereby the legal order of the Kingdom is subservient to the Sharia, this is certainly not the case with article 1 of the Qatari Constitution, which states the Sharia “shall be a main source of legislation”, but not the overriding or dominant source. There is at least one cogent reason for this divergence between the constitutional traditions of two neighbouring countries that share religious and cultural traditions. Before we demonstrate why this is the case, it is apt to offer a glimpse of the basic sources of Islamic law, otherwise known as the Sharia. The Sharia encompasses a combination of social and legal commands and exhortations, in addition to other matters of theological interest. It is not always easy to distinguish law from ethics or religious commands. Its primary sources (asl) are the Quran (the holy book of Muslims, dictated to Prophet Mohamed by the angel Gabriel) and those portions of the sunna (effectively comprising the deeds and sayings of the Prophet). The sunna does not prevail over the Quran, which is always superior, but it is used to interpret the Quran and serves to fill gaps in the absence of any reference in the Quran itself. Given that the sunna is rather extensive compared to the Quran, it has been employed to develop discrete fields of Islamic law, such as Islamic contract law.33 In addition to the Quran and the sunna (both of which comprise the Sharia) there is a plethora of secondary sources,34 all of which are no doubt inferior to the primary ones and chiefly serve as interpretative tools. It should be stated, however, that in practice, these secondary (particularly theological interpretative writings) have given rise to other areas of regulation, as is the case with Islamic contract law. The Quran is composed of 6,239 verses, of which it is generally agreed that roughly 190 can best be described as setting out binding obligations – as opposed to ethical or other religious exhortations - upon Muslims.35 These are referred to as Islamic law or the Sharia, but one should not lightly divorce “law” from “religion” from texts where such a distinction was never intended. Upon the passing of the Prophet Mohamed, it became evident that some degree of interpretation was needed in order to better educate the Muslim community and achieve maqāsid al-sharia (goals of the Sharia). This resulted in the development of a distinct set of methodologies of known as ilm usūl al-fiqh (methodology of theological science) and fiqh (theological science). Islamic law – and its theology – has flourished through the development of fiqh over the ages and bequeathed to Muslims in the modern era.36 

The Sharia has a very limited role in the private law of Qatar, and even so, its application is effectively possible only as a matter of choice between contracting parties.37 This may appear odd to non-experts given the overriding importance of Islam in the very existence of Qatar. Islamic law regulates family and inheritance law,38 as well as some elements of criminal law.39 In the sphere of private law, in particular, ordinary Qatari courts are bound to construe a contract in accordance with the Sharia where the particular subject matter is not regulated by statute.40 The parties may not exclude the Sharia where their contract is governed by Qatari law and the latter lacks a statutory provision regulating a particular issue under the contract.41 This is not an easy venture nor is it free from contention. Article 1(2) of the Qatari Civil Code provides a hierarchy, with statute at the apex, followed by the Sharia (“if any”), customary practices and finally “rules of justice”.42 The Qatari Court of Cassation has made use of the Sharia as a secondary source of law on numerous occasions.43 

In the beginning of this section, it was intimated that there is at least one reason why the Sharia could not be the overriding source of legislation in Qatar. This is because the country allows conventional banking, among others, and hence implicitly facilitates the charging of interest in pertinent transactions. Unlike traditional finance, which is content with asymmetrical risk-return distributions, Islamic finance is interested in the social justice of private transactions in a manner that benefits the Islamic community as a whole and not just some members to the detriment of others.44 Not surprisingly, therefore, usury and guaranteed rates of return are alien to the social goals of the Sharia. It follows that Islamic law prohibits lending practices that encompass the imposition of interest as a source of enrichment (that is without some form of labour).45 It also prohibits contracts where the obligations of the parties are uncertain and where profit can arise from incalculable risk (gharar). Classic insurance agreements and futures trading would fall foul of such rules.46 A similar category of prohibited transactions is anything that resembles to gambling (qimar).47 Any instruments or transactions of chance fits the model of this prohibition, including debt-based instruments where a financial institution or creditor has every interest for its debtors to fail to repay their debt. A final category is that of maysir,48 which broadly encompasses agreements that are conceived in contract law as suffering from voidness, as is the case with fraud.49 Since Qatari law allows the imposition of interest and banking and other transactions, the Constitution could not possibly assert that the Sharia prevailed over all other laws to the contrary. As a result, the Sharia has been relegated to one among many applicable laws within Qatar.

IV. A Brief Foray in Qatar’s Twentieth Century Constitutional History and Demands for Elections and Self-Rule

With the exception of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, which had a sizeable population and was able to govern its territory without foreign interference, all the other Gulf sheikhdoms did not have such capacity. Fear of subjugation by the Ottomans50 was a key reason for seeking allies that would allow them to retain their sovereign character and avoid assimilation. It was only natural that Gulf leaders turned to Britain, an enemy of the Ottomans, to achieve these goals. This was a convenient alliance for the British Empire in the course of the nineteenth-century because it coincided with its most coveted colonial asset, the Indian subcontinent. The Persian Gulf was in the middle of its navigational route to India and so it was quick to capitalize on the fears of the local rulers and enter into a series of discrete maritime defence treaties. That this were negotiated and concluded individually with each of the so-called Trucial states is a good indication that as far back as the middle of the nineteenth century each of these sheikhdoms was recognized by the British as possessing distinct international legal personality. For the purposes of this article, Britain entered into agreement with Kuwait in 1899 and Qatar in 1916, far later than similar agreements with other Gulf nations.51 

The 1916 agreement between the Ruler of Qatar and Britain,52 was certainly not a mere maritime treaty, but an agreement that offered military protection to Qatar, which further entailed British administration. This was not peculiar to Qatar but was certainly not a colonial acquisition in the manner of British rule in India or Africa. None of the latter involved any sort of agreement. The agreement envisaged that the Qatari Emir would retain its status as a hereditary monarch, subject to Qatar becoming an integral part of Britain’s Overseas Protected Territories. Interestingly, this latter status fell under the authority of the British Indian Empire, which was of course a Crown itself.53 The 1916 agreement was not particularly lengthy or elaborate. However, it is important to note that the Qatari leader refused some of the terms in the original draft as he felt that these put the unity and political existence of his country in jeopardy.54 Key among these was the adamant rejection of Britain’s insistence that a British resident commissioner be installed on the ground, as well as unimpeded British access to Qatar’s pearl fishing and trade. The agreement retained intact until 1935, at which time it was renewed. During this time, Qatar’s territorial sovereignty and political independence did not come under threat by external forces, although it is not clear whether this can be attributed to British military deterrence.

Up until 1940, Britain had viewed the Gulf sheikhdoms as convenient outposts that boosted its presence in Asia. However, when significant deposits of oil were discovered in relatively shallow waters in Qatar in 1940, Britain proceeded to rely on this oil and hence strengthened its military presence in the region to protect oil production. Following the demise of its control over India, Britain transferred responsibility for the Gulf Residency directly to London. In order to secure its oil interests, Britain entered into a concession treaty with Gulf states, in exchange for security arrangements and insisted on maintain a political presence for another century.55 The volatility of the post-World War II global landscape gave Gulf leaders little choice in the matter. These concessions further exploited the absence of extracting capacity (both upstream and downstream) of Gulf states and the unwillingness of colonial powers to make room for any sort of extensive technology transfer. It was therefore a natural consequence that as Britain moved towards a new phase of industrialization fuelled in large part by Middle Eastern oil, that it would exert a tighter grip on power. Protests against British rule intensified in the early 1950s, chiefly as a result of the spread of Arab nationalism and the ideals of Gamal Abdel Nasser.56 While most Gulf countries established cultural groups expressing Arab nationalist principles, the local governments allowed their operations only to a certain degree. When these cultural manifestations of Arab nationalism turned into mass protests, they were quelled. Qatar was no exception. Key to the 1950s and 1960s’ popular uprisings was Arab nationalism sponsored by Nasser.57 In 1956 Qataris held massive protests in Doha waving Egyptian flags and chanted anti-British slogans.58

The most popular series of protests took place in 1963. In February of that year, the fall of the Abdul Karim Qasim regime in Iraq by Baathist and Pan-Arab officers ignited celebrations across the Arab world, and Qatar was no exception. Jubilant expatriates and nationals took to the streets to celebrate and express their support for the regime change in Iraq. Two months later, Iraq entered into the 1963 Unity Talks with Syria and Egypt, culminating in a similar pattern of mass demonstrations and celebrations among Qataris.59 Influential Qatari merchants led the movement, calling for the establishment of a Municipal Council elected by Qatari citizens with voting rights granted to all male citizens of Qatar.60 Sheikh Ahmad Bin Ali, then ruler of Qatar, agreed to certain requests, chiefly put forward by the merchants and workers in respect of greater public participation. The establishment of this Council was immediate but was ultimately short-lived.61 Law No. 11 of 1963 set up the Doha Municipality.62 A subsequent development at more or less the same time was the mobilization of a pan-Arab organization called the Qatar National Unity Front, whose members prepared a reform-demanding petition signed by thousands of Qataris.63

The petition by the National Unity Front further demanded the eradication of royal privilege,64 the Arabization of labour, the legalization of trade unions, in addition to the creation of municipal councils composed of elected members. They also pushed for more transparency and accountability in the state's financial matters as well as greater political participation for the general public. Many dissidents were arrested and others forced to flee to Kuwait, Egypt, and Lebanon. Following these events, the Qatari government issued a statement of reform that is widely believed to be a measure of extinguishing the flames of Arab nationalism. The establishment of this Council was immediate but was ultimately short-lived.65 It was predicated on Law No. 11 of 1963 setting up the Doha Municipality. A municipal council whose members would be elected through universal suffrage appeared once again thirty years later.

V. The 2021 Shura Council Elections and the 2024 Constitutional Referendum

The 2021 elections for the Qatari Shura Council was a watershed moment for the country’s constitutional history.66 The right to elect was conferred upon all Qatari citizens—itself a controversial issue explored more fully in another section—irrespective of gender as has always been the case in all types of elections held in Qatar since the country’s independence.67 In order to understand the 2021 elections it is instructive to go back to article 44 of the original (1971) Constitution, which set out three categories of members taking up positions in the Shura Council.68 The first category encompassed a total of twenty members that would be elected on the basis of universal suffrage. However, election was not open to anyone who simply wished to become a candidate. Candidates would have to register their interest with the district corresponding to their residence and the electorate would then proceed to choose its preferred candidates. The ten districts would then prepare lists containing the names of the top four candidates, which they would proceed to submit to the Emir. 69 The Emir possessed the authority to decrease the list to twenty members – out of the original forty – who would subsequently comprise the elected members of the Shura Council. Such a selection was not subject to a redress or appeal mechanism and lay solely in the personal discretion of the Emir. Unlike the first category, the second did not comprise any elected members. Instead, it was composed of an indefinite number of serving Ministers in the government who served alongside their ministerial role. A final category consisted of persons appointed directly by the Emir – but their number could never exceed three – in accordance with a constitutional law adopted a year prior to the adoption of the 1971 Constitution, namely Law No 9 of 1970.70

The 2021 Constitution departed from the format of its predecessor. Article 77 stipulated that the Shura Council shall consist of “no fewer than forty-five members,” of which fifteen would be appointed by the Emir.71 It should be understood that such power is not exercised randomly but is predicated on the need for unity among the various families within the country, which is a key driving force in Qatari internal politics. A thorny issue, however, has always been the question of who actually possesses Qatari nationality—as opposed to Qatari national identity—for the purpose of attaining the right to elect and be elected in the country’s national assembly. This conundrum is shared among the smaller countries of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) and  in the opinion of the author remains highly contentious. Prior to the 2024 reforms, the Qatari Nationality Law made a sharp distinction between those with “original nationality” and those persons that became citizens on the basis of a naturalisation process.72 The key idea behind this distinction was to protect the value of lineage and long-standing connection to Qatar’s families. On this basis, the concept of “original nationality” extended to persons with grandfathers hailing from and born in Qatar.73 Everyone else, even where endowed with a Qatari nationality, could avail themselves of all the right of citizens (chiefly socio-financial in nature), but had no right to participate in the elections. On the ground, however, this meant that several groups, chiefly former nomadic tribes that at some point traversed the Gulf under the former British protectorate regime did not qualify for original nationality. There was great sensitivity about this issue, which was finally resolved in 2024. A brief insight into this issue will be offered in the next section.

The 2024 referendum74 was meant to resolve most, if not all, of the outstanding issues already mentioned. Decree No. 87 which set forth the referendum also proceeded to amend several provisions in the Qatari Constitution (subject to popular approval)75 and henceforth we shall refer to it as the 2024 Qatari Constitution. Recall that Article 77 of the 2021 Constitution provided for a total of forty-five Shura Council members, of which fifteen would be appointed by the Emir, meaning that the election of thirty members was open to universal suffrage. This was now replaced by Article 77 of the 2024 Constitution. Following consultations between the families and the Emir, it was decided that unity was best served by a process whereby the tribes would propose potential members from within each group which the Emir would go on to appoint. As will be explained in a subsequent section, given the existence of a quota for each family, this system was perceived as being fairer and addressing the sensitivities of families with smaller numbers.76 An equally important departure, which evinces a quasi-democratic trajectory of Gulf states, and Qatar in particular, is the fact that Article 80 the 2024 Constitution eliminated the thorny distinction between original nationality and naturalized persons. The elimination of this distinction should not be underestimated. In a country of about 350.000 nationals, of whom roughly half are eligible voters (chiefly because of age eligibility), every vote is significant. Hence, by increasing the voter pool through the conferral of nationality on more persons, the state is more concerned with amending with past injustices rather than manipulating voter registration.

No doubt, for Western audiences, the elimination of universal suffrage in exchange for an appointment system by a hereditary monarch seems incongruous with the dictates of expressed democratic goals.77 However, one should take note of the exigencies of a small state in the midst of a complex geostrategic landscape where there is little certainty. Qatar was the target of a sustained blockade and sanctions by a coalition of Arab states, three of which are members of the GCC, namely Saudi Arabia, the UAE and Bahrain. All are considered, and in fact are, brotherly nations, so the blockade was very much a psychological shock for Qataris and a wakeup call that internal unity as well as solid external partners were key to securing its future. Tribalism was inherent for domestic unity, although not at all in the sense of the kind of tribalism one typically associates with African politics, which is dominated by a handful of elites at the expense of the many that are poverty-stricken and lack the education to fight back. 78In Qatar, high level and relatively liberal education is universal to all nationals. There is no poverty, and all nationals are guaranteed a job in accordance with one’s qualifications and experience. In this sense, the tribes cannot be dominated by one or more elites and given the relatively small population of the country, no more than 350,000, the tribes are composed of small numbers.79 In fact, the elimination of the distinction between original nationals and others serves to reinforce this conclusion, largely because elites tend to remove others from their circle of power, rather than confer power and privileges. Thus, while tribalism, in the sense described, yields political power, the way in which it is applied is to secure that all tribes are fairly treated and have equal access to power.80 This loyalty of the families to the Emir and the work of the Shura Council thus becomes an imperative mechanism for constitutional continuity and for achieving the vision of Gulf states in general and Qatar in particular. The referendum was specifically hailed as an opportunity to restore family and tribal relations in the country.81 The Qatari Emir has made it clear that the constitutional reforms of 2024 and the amendments to the Constitution are a work in progress. No doubt, any future assessment of these changes will be predicated on whether they advance the country’s political unity and enhance relations with other key states. It is no accident that in his official address to the Shura Council in October 2024 he stated that:

I said at the time from this podium and elsewhere that it was an experiment, and we will review it, evaluate it and draw conclusions from it. We did that and drew conclusions that led us to propose the constitutional amendments.

Our system is an emirate founded on justice, shura, which protects rights and liberties under the rule of law.

The Shura Council is not a representative parliament in a democratic system, and its status and powers will not be affected whether its members are chosen by election or appointment.82

The words chosen are emblematic of the clear and transparent stance of the country towards its constitutional reality. The Qatari Emir emphasizes that the Shura Council is not the type of parliamentary body one typically finds in Western liberal democracies. Nonetheless, this statement—in conjunction with the fact that the Qatari people overwhelmingly chose to abolish the elections for the Council—implies that where the people wish to reinstate elections for anything other than the election of the Emir itself, there exists no constitutional impediment; effectively, that elections are not inconsistent with the hereditary monarchical system of government of Qatar. The principal pillars of governance are stated to be justice, shura (consultation, mutual deliberation or dialogue), and the rule of law. These are hardly hollow words. It is noteworthy that the 2025 version of the World Justice Report’s rule of law index places Qatar forty-first among the more than 200 countries of the world, above many European Union member states and other liberal Western democracies.83

So, what is the future of constitutionalism in the Gulf and Qatar in particular? There has been no announcement that further constitutional reforms are to take place. Given the central place of the Emir in the Constitution of Qatar, the country’s Constitutional Court84 will likely not set out to assess a possible incompatibility between the Constitution as it was amended in 2021 and the 2024 Emiri Decree that called for a referendum, among other issues.85 Unlike its Kuwaiti counterpart, which is beyond doubt the most liberal and vocal constitutional court in the Middle East, the Qatari one is less vocal. However, given that the decision to hold the referendum and the support for the proposed changes found an overwhelming support by all political forces in the country, including also the electorate that voted in overwhelming favour, there was no serious role for the Constitutional Court to play.

It has already been noted that article 1 of decree No. 17 of 1998 put forth two alternative types of voter eligibility. The first was predicated on original Qatari nationality. This distinction was further replicated in Law No. 35 of 2005 (Qatar’s Nationality Law), whereby an individual was entitled to cast its vote if they were Qatari nationals, which encompassed residents that had maintained continuous legal residence in Qatar since 1930 until the enforcement of Law No. 2 of 1961. The same right was also conferred to persons proven to be of Qatari descent, even if they did not meet the previous residence requirement, as well as those persons to which the Emir had granted nationality by decree. Other categories of citizens with voting rights include individuals whose Qatari nationality had been reinstated according to the law; and anyone born in Qatar or abroad to a Qatari father.86 The second category includes persons that had acquired Qatari nationality and at least fifteen years had passed since that nationality was conferred upon them.87 

Indeed, the most significant provision concerning voting rights within the Nationality Law No. 38 of 2005 is articulated in article 16, which explicitly states, “[n]aturalized Qataris shall not be entitled to participate in elections or nominations or be appointed in any legislative body.”88 This provision serves as a clear and unequivocal prohibition of naturalized citizen's right to vote, as well as their ability to be nominated for candidacy in elections. This provision enjoys a constitutional character because it denies the constitutional right to vote for the Shura Council to persons that do not satisfy the relevant nationality criteria.

In the previous section the author highlighted the significance of the constitutional amendments as regards the status of nationality. It will be recalled that prior to 2024, only original citizens were allowed to elect and be elected. No doubt, citizenship confers other privileges on citizens in the Gulf, other than the right to elect, including the right of permanent residence, enhanced employment opportunities, land rights, pension and healthcare rights, economic and corporate rights (e.g., in Qatar, all companies must have a Qatari shareholder who holds at least 51% of its shares).89 This opening to non-original citizens is thus significant far beyond the constitutional landscape of Gulf monarchies and Qatar in particular. It could have easily been ignored, sidelined, and hidden from public discourse, but there was a conscious choice to make the country more inclusive, even at the expense of political dissent.90 Western audiences do not as a rule associate Gulf monarchies with inclusion and non-discrimination.91 While it is true that Gulf monarchies discriminate in terms of civil and political rights between working class migrants, highly skilled white-collar workers (also referred to as expatriates), and nationals92 tribal relationships have always been an issue that was not open for public debate. The Qatari post-2024 developments mark a new period of inclusion and non-discrimination. In declaring the referendum, the Emir emphasized that “[e]quality before the law and to be treated on an equal footing under the law is the foundation of a modern state, as well as a legal, moral and constitutional obligation. It is the justice that Allah has enjoined us to do, and we do not accept anything else.”93

VI. The Qatari and Kuwaiti National Visions

So-called National Visions are common features of all GCC states.94 Although in theory they are meant to serve the role of high-level policy papers, in practice they have assumed the status of constitutional bylaws and government institutions strive to implement these Visions as part of their overall operational mandate. This is true of Saudi Arabia and other GCC states95 and of course the State of Qatar.96 These Visions set out goals and aims for the next decade and hence all state institutions are obliged to meet these quantifiable goals as far as practicable.97 By extension, all legislation is expected to conform and align with these Visions.98 Importantly, as in the case of Qatar, its successive Visions (Qatar National Vision or QNV) have placed the hosting of mega-sporting events and general investment of sports among its three key priorities.99 For the purposes of this article, the QNV does not address matters related to the Shura or the way in which its members are to be elected. In equal measure, it does not deal with matters of state governance. However, because the QNV supplements the Qatari Constitution, its liberal, investment-focused and developmental perspective suggests that the Constitution should be read and construed in exactly that manner. The constitutional conventions described in this article are not meant to stifle popular representation as such a move would in and of itself hinder the liberal focus of the QNV, which is the cornerstone of the country’s developmental process.

The author has included reference to the Kuwaiti National Vision100 in this section to avoid repetition of general issues in later sections whereby a fuller discussion of the Kuwaiti National Assembly would have been offered. The Kuwaiti NV, just like its other Gulf Counterparts, seeks to render the country a regional hub for trade and financial services and in the process attract as many inter-governmental organizations as possible by offering comparative advantages.101 Unlike the UAE and Saudi Arabia, there is little evidence that Kuwait has come close to achieving such an objective and diversifying its economy.102

VII. Parliamentary Reforms in Kuwait

A. Historical Insights into Kuwait’s Recent Constitutional History

Besides Qatar, which is a relative newcome, the pioneer of parliamentary and constitutional reforms in the Gulf has been the Kingdom of Kuwait. Despite being conservative, one plausible explanation for “opening up” is its 1990 invasion by its neighbor Iraq, under the leadership of then President Saddam Hussein.103 This was a wakeup call for Kuwait’s leadership. One of Hussein’s slogans was that Kuwait was nothing more than a fiction and that in fact it was an integral component of Iraq.104 It was this need for greater unity that Kuwait’s leadership felt could be achieved, among other means, through a cautious, yet sustained, process of constitutional reforms that were unparalleled anywhere in the Arab world at the time,105 let alone the very conservative kingdoms of the Gulf. This necessarily required that the country’s leadership acknowledge the fact that strict authoritarian rule was not appropriate for the type of unity and loyalty envisioned, nor indeed consistent with the constitutional struggles of the Kuwaiti people since at least the early 1950s.106

As a response, it is no surprise that the Kuwaiti Constitution of 1962107 was the first among Gulf states, under the patronage of King Abdallah al-Salim Al Sabah.108 The wording of the Constitution was radical for its time in that it proclaimed that the system of government was democratic and authority was vested in the people to effectively decide their political destiny.109 Even if this was meant as a smokescreen, which is not supported by this author, it could not have gone unnoticed that the Kuwaiti people were by no means silent bystanders to British protectorate rule in the period just before the adoption of the 1962 Constitution and hence if they felt betrayed by their leaders they would have no qualms to resume their protest. Hence, it must be assumed that the King and elites actually meant to stir the country into semi-democratic rule. This argument is further augmented by the fact that one of the pioneering features of the 1962 Constitution was its references to justiciable human rights110 available to all Kuwaiti citizens,111 even before Kuwait had a chance to approve and ratify universal human rights treaties. One should contrast this practice with other GCC—save for Qatar112—and Muslim-majority states, the majority of which approach human rights treaties with a considerable degree of caution.113 And while other Arab sheikhdoms in the Gulf—save for Saudi Arabia and the UAE114—do not have constitutional courts, that of Kuwait is impressive not least because it has exercised its authority to entertain groundbreaking cases, particularly through individual petitions.115 

In section IV it was demonstrated that Arabs in the Gulf protested against British rule and their discriminatory practices. Kuwaitis were no different. Kuwaitis were fervent supporters of educational reform and invested heavily in this sector as a means of ridding themselves of their colonial rulers but also improving their livelihoods.116 This was a fertile ground for Arab nationalism and further provided the impetus for the creation of schools and cultural societies that would propagate Arabic education, ideals and the burgeoning nationalism of the time. An Educational Department was duly established which funded all these activities.117 This Department set up a scholarship program in 1958 with the aim of educating the young generation of Kuwaiti children, which by the time of the country’s independence from the British in 1961 was entrenched in the ideals of Nasser’s pan-Arab nationalism and anti-colonial sentiment.118 The networks created or used by these scholarship students in the Arab world, particularly in Egypt, played an important role in the anti-colonial movement and stoked support for Arab-styled liberalism. This movement was significant and given the universality of education by 1961 it was no accident that democratic governance was emphatically incorporated into the country’s constitution. The practice of setting up social clubs throughout the Gulf protectorates, but predominantly in Kuwait, was an effort at fostering clandestine nationalist movements disguised under a social banner.119 Members of ruling families were often assigned the title of honorary president and less than a decade before the country’s independence, there were seventeen major social clubs in existence.120 Membership was generally open to all resident Arabs, although Kuwaitis were naturally more active, with members of ruling families assuming lead roles, particularly as looked forward to their role in a post-independent Kuwait. It was equally natural that Arab nationalism was the key and sole ideological platform, as opposed to tribal, religious or other affiliations and slogans.121 

Just like the Qatari social struggles at the time, Kuwaitis generally united under a single banner.122 As the number of social/cultural associations expanded, there was a need to exert some degree of coordination and overall control. This was achieved through the formation of the Kuwaiti Clubs Committee.123 Besides coordinating the various associations, the Committee took the lead in a series of demonstrations, the seminal one being against colonial powers’ aggression against Egypt in 1956 on the occasion of the nationalization of the Suez Canal by Egyptian President Nasser.124 It was on November 2, 1956, that the Committee printed material against Britain’s actions in the crisis and called for universal strike action.125 The democratic credentials of the Kuwaiti people are striking even compared with Western liberal democracies at the same time126 and once again this provides sufficient proof that the human rights provisions in the 1961 Constitution were not inserted against the tide of the political reality of the moment. It should also be emphasized that Kuwait escalated the activity of feminist groups in the 1960s, which is consistent with Arab nationalism’s progressive agenda.127 Women were central figures in clubs and associations, playing a prominent role and many were recipients of educational scholarships and feminist groups were hardly unknown during this period. Despite the fact that women are currently underrepresented in the Kuwaiti Parliament,128 their role in contemporary Kuwait is steadily rising even if they currently lag behind in senior leadership roles. 

It is within this historical context that one needs to approach the debates on parliamentary reform in Kuwait and the way these are shaped in the country’s constitution,129 as well as political debates. Kuwait’s constitution is not a monolithic instrument that is immutable, but rather a living instrument that has the potential for good and poor outcomes from the perspective of democracy and human rights.

B. Kuwait’s Parliamentary Reforms of 2024 and the Dissolution of its Parliament

As already stated, the 1962 Constitution proclaimed the creation of a parliamentary structure, despite the fact that Article 4 emphasizes that the country is a “hereditary Emirate in succession in the descendants of the Mubarak Al-Sabah.” While this may seem like an inconsistent outcome, this was not conceived in such a manner by Kuwaitis at the time, because just like Qatar the monarchy was a guarantee of unity for the various tribes and people of Kuwait.130 Article 51 of the 1962 Constitution made it clear that “legislative power is vested in the Emir and the National Assembly” (the latter serving as the country’s parliamentary body).131 While the Emir shall appoint Ministers and some of these may equally be appointed by the Emir to serve in the National Assembly, “the entire number of Ministers shall not exceed one third the number of the members of the National Assembly.”132 Consequently, government Ministers possess little to no power by which to force a bill through the National Assembly and so it is assumed that their role therein is or should be constructive. Even so, the Emir was conferred with the exceptional power under the 1962 Constitution to propose and promulgate laws following their initial submission to the National Assembly.133 This power is curtailed by the approval of the proposed legislation by the National Assembly, failing which the bill could not be transformed into law.134 These provisions suggest that the Emir possessed no real power to bypass the National Assembly. Much like other liberal constitutions of the time and present, membership in the National Assembly—other than appointed Ministers—was through universal secret ballot.135

The democratic credentials of the 1962/1992 Constitution should have become self-evident. Let us now fast forward to February 2024. Although there were some political tensions in the country, everyone was in shock when the newly appointed Emir, Sheikh Mishaal, abruptly moved to dissolve the National Assembly. This was done through an Order, allegedly on account of the need to protect Kuwait’s “higher interests.”136 Of course, this power is not unheard of in modern constitution and was envisaged under Article 107(1) of the 1962/1992 Constitution, which stipulated that: “The Emir may, by Decree, dissolve the National Assembly, giving the reasons for such dissolution. However, the National Assembly shall not be dissolved again on the same grounds.”137

The Order dissolving the National Assembly was not content with the legislature alone but extended its remit to several civil liberties for a period “not exceeding four years.”138 What was even more concerning was the statement whereby during the indefinite period of dissolution, the democratic practice of the Kingdom would come under scrutiny and become the subject of an elaborate research or study.139 The country’s appropriate form of governance and the relationship between the executive and the legislature would be determined following the results of this research.140 Again, while even liberal democracies undertake long-term inquiries about laws and institutions, as was the case with Brexit, or national referenda, these do not bypass national constitutions without some kind of universal suffrage or other parliamentary consent. In the case at hand, the Order, in violation of the Kuwaiti Constitution, stripped the National Assembly of its powers and removed sovereignty from the Kuwaiti people. Ultimately, the order suspended articles 51, 65(2) and (3), 71(2),141 79, 107,142 174143 and 181144 of the Kuwaiti Constitution. The first two provisions, as previously analyzed, were and continue to be foundational for the functioning of Kuwait as a semi-democratic state and for the efficient operation of its National Assembly. By implementing these restrictions, the Order effectively transformed Kuwait in the interim period into an absolute monarchy, stripping the country of its constitutional democratic credentials. The official reason for the dissolution, it must be noted, was the publication of statements by a member of the opposition that were considered disrespectful to Kuwaiti institutions and the country’s Emir.145

In the two months following the first dissolution of the National Assembly, the Emir organized an extraordinary and snap election in order to form a new Assembly, even if no significant changes to its composition were set forth.146 When this new Assembly was ultimately formed, in May 2024, less than a month after being sworn in it was dissolved for a second time, with a timeline for subsequent constitutional amendments to be introduced by the Emir, under his now absolute monarchical powers.147 No doubt, this second dissolution would have violated Article 71 of the Constitution had this provision not been suspended. The Emir justified this subsequent dissolution by reference to the constitutional interests of the Kuwaiti people, emphasizing that he was forced to save the country by not “permitting democracy to be exploited to destroy the state,”148 further implying that the country’s overall stability was under jeopardy from “widespread corruption.”149 There was nothing in this statement that directly implicated the National Assembly, or why its dissolution was so urgent that he had to strip it of its constitutional prerogatives.

For some commentators, this was very much a calculated political act that was hardly the result of corruption or an evil of democratic governance, even if similar tensions had arisen in the past and the inviolability of National Assembly members was not necessarily respected.150 It was the end result of simmering tensions, political, social and financial between several key stakeholders, including the Emir, his Cabinet and the National Assembly. This is not to say that such tensions only arose in the aftermath of the appointment of the new Emir,151 but it was perhaps a sign that the constitutional symbiosis as envisaged in the Constitution was not only under strain, but that the institutions bridging it together were weak and only functioned in the absence of tensions.152 The key question is whether after almost sixty years of constitutional rule, Kuwait’s governance will become increasingly authoritarian and absolute. There is little to no information concerning the future of the National Assembly and whether its sovereignty will be restored, and if so under what circumstances and composition. In the opinion of this author, constitutional struggles are an inextricable part of constitution-building. The process does not begin and end with the drafting of a constitution; rather, the aim all along is to render it part of the national psyche, an ultimum refugium for all persons, and a living instrument that evokes passion, whether in the form of protest or calls for its protection from abuse. The very fact that the Kuwaiti Emir is utilizing the Constitution in order to bring about radical changes to the country’s semi-democratic model, when in fact he could have achieved the same outcome on the basis of extra-constitutional means, suffices to demonstrate the value of this text. The semi-democratic experiment is still alive and well and its future now depends on the reactions of the various stakeholders.

VIII. Conclusion

This article examined in detail two semi-constitutional democracies in the Gulf (Arabian or Persian Gulf despite on one’s view of the particular maritime space). It looked at their distinct, yet rather similar, constitutional arrangements, particularly through the political interplay between a hereditary monarch and a national assembly (or parliament). Although a striking imbalance to those accustomed to Western liberal democracies, this form of semi-democratic rule had served Kuwait for a period of more than sixty years, that is until its recent debacle with the double dissolution of its parliament in violation of its Constitution. For Qatar, this model very much emerged in the dawn of the new millennium and flourished in the last two decades. In fact, it went on to thrive even under (as well as following) dire geo-strategic circumstances. This is particularly true as regards Qatar, which went on to fully diversify its supply and consumption sources during its so-called blockade (starting in 2017) by Saudi Arabia, Egypt, the United Arab Emirates (UAE), and Bahrain,153 and which ended in 2021 with the signing of the Al-Ula Declaration.154 Qatar’s key internal policy concern was to foster harmony and unity among its citizens and fortify Qatari national pride. It should be noted that a similar constitutional overhaul was made by Kuwait in October 2024, which involved a decree that conferred all executive and legislative powers on the Emir of the country.155 In addition, the Decree in question reinforced the power of the Emir of Kuwait to strip persons of their nationality where they are deemed to undermine the social and political system or belong to foreign political bodies.156 Kuwait has traditionally been hailed as the paradigm of democratic governance in the Arab world, where its citizens exercised universal suffrage and its constitutional court having adopted judgments very much in line with international human rights standards.157

In contrast to the Kuwaiti situation where the Emir unilaterally suspended the powers of its legislative assembly, Qatar did so through a public referendum that was met with general approval and in fact constituted a matter of popular demand. Since this amendment was requested by all tribes and families it was a welcome development, particularly since it was coupled with an extension of citizenship conferral, at a time when other Gulf states are restricting citizenship rights.158 Given the results of the referendum, there is no other visible constitutional changes in the horizon in the near future. It is unlikely that significant constitutional alterations will be proposed. It is certainly worth looking out if the country’s constitutional court becomes a more active participant, at least in terms of interpretation of statutes, or whether it prefers to stay in the background. The results of the referendum, particularly in the aftermath of the 2022 FIFA World Cup, which itself was a catalyst for massive legislative reform, seems to have put any appetite for further amendments to rest.

If the Qatari referendum of 2024 is viewed from the perspective of Western liberal constitutionalism, it is certainly democratic in nature. This is equally the case for its outcome, which encompasses an appointment system for the members of the Shura Council. This is very much akin to the type of representative and immediate democracy one encounters in countries with small numbers, as was the case with Ancient Athens, particularly where tribal affiliation is a dominant feature of political and social organization. The very fact of the referendum itself and the manner in which it was heralded by all Qatari stakeholders as a triumph of Qatari constitutionalism, is a strong indication and legacy for the country and the Gulf region more generally.159 Although there is a renewed interest in constitutionalism in Arab- and Muslim-majority countries, this is mostly focused on North African countries, chiefly Egypt.160 Gulf monarchies have received relatively feeble attention and it is only a handful of scholars that write about them and then mostly in the context of international politics. It is generally assumed that these monarchies are theocracies that apply the Sharia in every walk of public and private life and hence any constitutional analysis would be futile from the outset. Kuwait and Qatar fit the model of semi-democracies that straddle between monarchical power and parliamentary legislative authority. Some institutions are under strain whereas others are not. But just like liberal democracies, the personal skills of leaders (or monarchs in the case at hand) are crucial not only for the unity of states, but also for common and personal development. Although it is convenient to disassociate leaders from constitutions and their institutions, it is perhaps not wise to do so on all occasions. Hopefully, this article has demonstrated that such an assumption is untrue and that Gulf monarchies are on a path of constitutionalism. It is important to study this trajectory and engage in dialogue with their courts and public institutions. Within the context of a new trend criticizing constitutional developments in Muslim-majority countries,161 hopefully this is a useful study.

• Professor of Transnational Law, Hamad bin Khalifa University (Qatar Foundation) College of Law and Adjunct Professor of Law at Georgetown University, Edmund A Walsh School of Foreign Service.

  [1] See William M Ballantyne, The Constitutions of the Gulf States: A Comparative Study, 1 Arab L.Q. 158 (1986).

• Qatar Population, World Population Rev., https://perma.cc/6XDN-T8DP (last visited May 19, 2026).
• Zahra Babar, The Cost of Belonging: Citizenship Construction in the State of Qatar, 68 MIDD EAST J 403 (2014).
• See Justin Gengler & Buthaina Al-Khelaifi, Crisis,State Legitimacy, and Political Participation in a Non-Democracy: How Qatar Withstood the 2017 Blockade, 73 Middle E.J. 3 (2019); see also Justin Gengler & Laurent A. Lambert, Renegotiating the Ruling Bargain: Selling Fiscal Reform in the GCC, 70 Middle E.J. 321 (2016).
• The Permanent Constitution of the State of Qatar Apr. 9, 2004, art. 8 (Qatar) [hereinafter Qatar Const.]. 
• Id., arts 1 and 6.
• Eleni Polymenopoulou, Sharia and Human Rights Law in the Constitutional Framework of Gulf States, 46 Hum. Rts. Q. 1, 23 (2024).  
• See ILO, labor reforms in the state of Qatar: coming together around a shared vision, (2022) [hereinafter Labor Reforms in the State of Qatar], https://perma.cc/3NMD-LAGB (the ILO was a strong supporter of Qatar’s efforts to improve its laws and practices relating to foreign workers’ rights and the fact that labor reforms were favorably received by the country’s citizens).
• Ilias Bantekas & Marko Begovic, The 2022 FIFA World Cup as a Catalyst for Labor Standards of Sport Professionals? A New Institutional Theory Perspective, 14 Notre Dame J. Int’l & Compar. L. 1 (2024); Ilias Bantekas, Migrant Labor Reforms as Human Rights Legacy of the 2022 FIFA World Cup, 41 Wisc. Int’l. L.J. 289 (2024) (providing some critique of Qatar’s pre-2012 labor legislation, but arguing that in the last decade preceding the 2022 World Cup there was a radical shift in workers’ rights, whether contractual, collective or health and safety); see also Ilias Bantekas, Rapid Social Transformation and Mega-Sport Construction, 52 Fordham Urb. L.J. 755 (2025) (explaining that Qatari social attitudes to workers’ rights shifted during the construction phase of the World Cup in the country).
• Qatar National Vision 2030, Qatari Gov’t Commc’n Off., (2026), https://perma.cc/J9SP-VGBN. See also Ilias Bantekas, Legislating Through Policy Statements: The Authority of National Visions in the Arabian Gulf, 44 Stat. L. Rev. 1, 5-11 (2023) (offering a more thorough account and analysis of National Visions ); Eleni Polymenopoulou, Human Rights in the Six Arab States of the Gulf Cooperation Council (‘GCC’): From Vision to Reality, 3 Cardozo J. Int’l. & Compar., Pol’y, L. & & Ethics L. Rev. 929, 969 (2020) (providing one of the most accomplished analyses of GCC National Visions by examining their constitutional and human rights potential even though national visions are effectively White Papers).
• Bantekas, id (discussing the constitutional and policy dimension of Qatar’s National Vision).
• Qatar 10/6, US Dept’ of State, https://2009-2017.state.gov/outofdate/bgn/qatar/74232.htm
• It is indeed characteristic that art 150 of the 2004 Constitution continues to refer to it as the ‘provision constitution’ as amended in 1972. Available at: https://www.almeezan.qa/LawArticles.aspx?LawTreeSectionID=6686&lawId=2284&language=en#:~:text=The%20Amended%20Provisional%20Constitution%20issued,a%20new%20Council%20is%20elected.
• Amiri Decision No. 1/1999, (Qatar) (establishing a committee for the drafting of the permanent constitution). Available at in Arabic, at https://www.almeezan.qa/LawPage.aspx?id=600&language=en
• Qatar to Adopt First Constitution, Al Jazeera (June 8, 2005), https://perma.cc/N3UN-VEVG.
• The Shura Council was established in 1972 following the provisions of the provisional Basic Law (also known as the Amended Provisional Constitution of 1972) issued on 19 April 1972. Hassan Al-Sayed, The Legal System of Qatar Shura Council, Qatar U. (Sep. 2021), https://perma.cc/A4W9-AT44.
• Qatar Const., supra note Error! Bookmark not defined..
• Cihat Battaloglu, Political Reforms in Qatar: From Authoritarianism to Political Grey Zone 17 (2018).
• Jennifer Lambert, Political Reform in Qatar: Participation, Legitimacy and Security, 18 Middle. E. Pol’y 89 (2011).
• The Structure of the Municipality of Doha, Law No. 11/1963 (Qatar).
• See generally Nasser M. Al-Hajri, Conditions for Membership of the Central Municipal Council—A Comparative Study, 10 Qatar U. Int’l Rev. L. 205 (2021).
• See Zaad Al Ali, ARAB CONSTITUTIONALISM: THE COMING REVOLUTION (2021) (ignoring Gulf monarchies in the form of a comprehensive analysis and focusing chiefly on Arab North Africa and the Eastern Mediterranean countries).
• See generallyConstitutions in Authoritarian Regimes Constitutions (Tom Ginsburg ed., 2013); Dawood Ahmed & Muhammad Z. Abbasi, Democracy Under God: Constitutions, Islam and Human Rights in the Modern World (2023) (noting this book grapples chiefly with so-called Islamic constitutionalism in selected countries); Clark B. Lombardi, Designing Islamic Constitutions: Past Trends and Options for a Democratic Future, 11 Int’l J. Const. L. 615 (2013); Nathan J. Brown, Constitutions in a Nonconstitutional World: Arab Basic Laws and the Prospects for Accountable Government (2001).
• Alan Siaroff, Comparing Political Regimes: A Thematic Introduction to Comparative Politics 73 (2005).
• Marina Ottaway, Democracy Challenged: The Rise of Semi-Authoritarianism 15 (2003).
• Siaroff, supra note22, at 223.
• See Andreas Schedler, Electoral Authoritarianism, in Emerging Trends in the Social and Behavioral Sciences (Robert Scott & Stephen Kosslyn eds., 2015).
• See Dawood Ahmed & Tom Ginsburg, Constitutional Islamization and Human Rights: The Surprising Origin and Spread of Islamic Supremacy Clauses, 54 Va. J. Int’l. L. 615 (2014); Clark B. Lombardi & Nathan Brown, Do Constitutions Requiring Adherence to Shari’a Threaten Human Rights? How Egypt’s Constitutional Court Reconciles Islamic Law with the Liberal Rule of Law, 21 Am. U. Int’l.  L. Rev.  379 (2005).
• John O. Voll, Islam and Democracy: Is Modernization a Barrier?, 1 Religion Compass  170, 171 (2017).See also Ran Hirschl, The Theocratic Challenge to Constitution Drafting in Post-conflict States, 49 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 1179 (2008).
• Rudolph Peters, Crime and Punishment in Islamic Law: Theory and Practice from the Sixteenth to the Twenty-First Century (2006); Baber Johansen, Apostasy as Objective and Depersonalised Fact: Two Egyptian Court Judgments, 70 Soc’y Rsch. Int’l Q. 687 (2023); Rudolph Peters & Gert J.J. De Vries, Apostasy in Islam, 17 Die Welt des Islams 1 (1976-77).See alsoEM (Lebanon) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2008] UKHL 64, ¶ 6 (demonstrating how Sharia is perceived in liberal Western democracies). This case was a family law dispute where the female spouse in question requested asylum in the UK because of the highly discriminatory Sharia-based family laws to which she was subjected in her native Lebanon. Lord Hope made it clear that the application of the Sharia to Muslim mothers in Lebanon was incompatible with English law, as well as articles 8 and 14 of the European Convention of Human Rights.
• See Indira Falk-Gesink, Chaos on the Earth: Subjective Truths versus Communal Unity in Islamic Law and the Rise of Militant Islam, 108 Am. Hist. Rev. 710 (2003); see also Ann E. Mayer, Islam and Human Rights (2012) (finding the Sharia wholly incompatible with contemporary human rights, without delving into context or a firm understanding of the sources of Islamic law); Daniel Philpott, Religious Freedom in Islam: The Fate of a Universal Human Right in the Muslim World Today (2019).
• See Chibli Mallat, Introduction to Middle Eastern Law (2007) (arguing the inaccuracy in the understanding of classical Islamic law has given rise to a small revolution among Muslim lawyers who are turning to the law as applied and practiced by countries with sizeable Muslim populations).
• See ILIAS BANTEKAS, JONATHAN ERCANBRACK, UMAR OSENI, IKRAM ULLAH, ISLAMIC CONTRACT LAW (2024) (which has developed almost exclusively on the basis of juristic scholarship).
• For example, qiyas (reasoning through the use of analogies adopted widely and overwhelmingly by Sharia scholars), and; ijma, effectively the amalgamation of consensus, evidenced through writings, of Sharia scholars). There are also controversial methods, such as ijtihad, not least although it was enthusiastically accepted at various times, it is now perceived in certain quarters as being capable of diluting Islam in favor of modernity. See Bernard G. Weiss, Interpretation of Islamic Law: The Theory of Ijtihad, 26 AM. J. COMP. L. 199, 198-201 (1978).
• See Cherif M. Bassiouni, THE SHARIA AND ISLAMIC CRIMINAL JUSTICE IN TIME OF WAR AND PEACE (Cambridge Univ. Press 2014) 23 (although this book focused on the Islamic view of humanitarian law, the first chapter is one of the most insightful expositions of the sources of the Sharia).
• See Eleni Polymenopoulou, LGBTI Rights in Indonesia: A Human Rights Perspective, 19 ASIA PAC. J. HUM. RTS. & L. 27, 28-33 (2018); equally Eleni Polymenopoulou, Caliphs, Jinns and Sufi Shrines: The Protection of Cultural Heritage and Cultural Rights Under Islamic Law, 36 EMORY INT’L. L. REV. 743 (2022) (showing the complexity and comprehensiveness of Islamic law in regulating issues such as cultural property and private relationships).
• The truth is that this body of law is scattered and disparate and is mostly used nowadays as a means of construing Islamic finance instruments. See Ilias Bantekas et. al., ISLAMIC CONTRACT LAW (Oxford Univ. Press 2024) (demonstrating that this body of law is composed almost entirely of secondary sources, chiefly in the form of commentaries from scholars across several centuries).
• Law Promulgating The Family Law, 2006 [Family Code] (No. 22/2006) art. 3 (Qatar), (stipulating thereof that it is predicated on the Hanbali school of Islam), https://perma.cc/4CBJ-RY7C.
• Law No. 11 of 2004 Issuing the Penal Code, 2004 [Penal Code] (Law No. 11/2004) art. 1 (Qatar) (emphasizing that Muslims are subject to additional Sharia-based offences, although some of these offences are included in the Code).; id. arts. 256–267 (crimes against Islam) and 270–278 (gambling and drinking).
• Law No. 22 of 2004 Regarding Promulgating the Civil Code, 2004 [Civil Code] (Law No. 22/2004) art. 1(2) (Qatar), https://perma.cc/BR8K-B62R.
• The Qatari Court of Cassation in Judgment No. 21/2008 suggested that Islamic law applies in situations where the transfer of property takes place by means of prescription, even if the law says otherwise. Court of Cassation [Civil & Trade Div.] May 6, 2008, No. 21/2008 (Qatar). It is probably sensible that Qatari courts will make use of the Sharia in situations where it is more comprehensive in a particular field than formal law.
• See Court of Cassation Judgment [Civil] 122/2013 (Qatar) on the limitations of justice as a rule that is trumped by the mutual intention of the parties; see also Court of Cassation Judgment [Civil] No. 26/2015 (Qatar).
• The Court of Cassation regularly makes use of business custom. A notable example is Judgment No. 148/2010, which related to the practice of delay interest in formal lending practices. The Court emphasized that delay interest was not an excessive practice and was justified by the lender’s exposure and was in any event a common understanding in the banking sector; theCourt of Cassation in Judgment 107/2013 also stated that where a special commercial/trade law is silent “commercial custom shall be applied, with the special custom or local custom being given precedence over the general custom. If there is no commercial custom, the provisions of the civil law shall apply.” Ilias Bantekas & Ahmed Al-AhmEd, Contract Law of Qatar 106 (Cambridge Univ. Press 2023).
• The Qur’an 2:30; 36:54.
• The Qur’an 2:275 (stating that “those who devour usury will not stand except as stand one whom the Evil one with his touch Hath driven to madness.”). See Mahmoud A. El-Gamal, An Economic Explication of the Prohibition of Rib¯a in Classical Islamic Jurisprudence (2001); Mir S.A. Khan, The Mohammedan Laws against Usury and How They Are Evaded, 11 J. Comp. Leg. & Int’l. L. 233 (1929).
• See Kristin Roy, The New York Convention and Saudi Arabia: Can a Country Use the Public Policy to Refuse Enforcement of Non-Domestic Arbitration Awards? 18 Fordham J. Int’l. L. 920, 954 (1995) (arguing that Saudi courts and lawmakers have applied public policy justifications in order to avoid foreign arbitral awards involving usury and futures trading).
• See Atikullah Abdullah, The Elements of Qimar (Wagering) and Gharar (Uncertainty) in the Contract of Insurance Revisited, 9 J. Islamic Econ. Bus. & Fin. 89, 90 (2013).
• The Qur'an 5:90–91 (al-ma’ida); 2:219 (al-baqara).
• See Westland Helicopters Ltd v. Arab Organisation for Industrialisation [1995] 2 WLR 126 (For further discussion); Westland Helicopters Ltd v. Arab Organisation for Industrialisation (AOI), UAE, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, State of Qatar, Egypt and Arab-British Helicopter Company, (Int’l Com. Arb. 1984), 80 ILR 600. See also, United Arab Emirates v. Westland Helicopters, 28 ILM 687 (1989).
• See James Onley, The Politics of Protection in the Gulf: The Arab Rulers and the British Resident in the Nineteenth Century, 6 New Arabian Stud. 30, 32; 39-40 (2004).
• See Stephen J. Ramos, An Historical Examination of Territory and Infrastructure in the Trucial States, inGateways to the World: Port Cities in the Persian Gulf 94, 97 (Mehran Kamrava ed., 2016); Robert G. Landen, The Arab Gulf in the Arab World 1800–1918, 1 Arab Aff. 57, 65–66 (1986).
• See James Onley, Britain and the Gulf Shaikhdoms, 1820–1971: The Politics of Protection, 4 CIRS Geo. U. Sch. of Foreign Serv. Qatar 1, 1, 3, 10 (2009). Nizar A Hamzeh, Qatar: The Duality of the Legal System, 30 Middle E. Stud. 79, 79 (1994) (demonstrating how the British established a dual legal system for the administration of justice). Local matters were administered by kadi/Sharia courts applying Islamic law, whereas all other matters were subject to English or statutory law).
• The authority to govern dependent territories was traditionally vested to the Westminster Parliament and the prerogative powers of the Crown. In Tito v. Waddell (No. 2), 1 WLR 496, 500 (1977) it was held that the sovereignty of the Crown exists in “the sense of government, power, ownership and belonging.” This in turn is the legal basis for Parliament’s legislative authority in dependent territories. There exists several conventions (embodied into statute) and common law rules that serve to limit Parliament’s power to legislate in such territories.
• Qatar’s Amiri Diwan, History of Qatar, https://perma.cc/5DLB-584P (last visited May 20, 2026); see also the original archives in digital form, https://perma.cc/F3RR-TC26 (last visited May 20, 2026).
• See Antoine Mattah & Alkhalej Alarabi, mn Alestemar Albretani hatta Althawra Aleraniya [The Arabian Gulf: from British Colonialism until the Iranian Revolution] 11 (1993).
• See Stephen R. Humphreys, Between Memory and Desire: The Middle East in a Troubled Age 61 (1999) (arguing that “of all the ideologies that have played on the Middle Eastern stage in this century — bourgeois liberalism, Marxism, Islamism — none has excited more hope and anxiety, than Arab nationalism”).
• Ibrahim Shahdad, Alharak Alshabi fe Qatar 1950-1963’ [People’s Movement in Qatar 1950-1963] 604, 605 Gulf Center for Development Policies (2012).
• Id. at 608.
• Dilip Hiro, Inside the Middle East 10 (1st ed. 2013) (examining the forces at work within the Arab world, the domestic politics and economy of Israel and the state’s relationship with the West and the Soviet Bloc, and the relationship between the Arabs and the West since the Ottoman Empire).
• Louay Bahry, Elections in Qatar: A Window of Democracy Opens in the Gulf, 6 Middle E. Pol. 118, 119 (1999).
• Id.
• Law No 11/1963 on the Structure of the Municipality of Doha, https://almeezan.qa/LawView.aspx?opt&LawID=2481&language=en
• Information specifically about the Front is sparse. For glimpses see John Chalcraft, Migration and Popular Protest in the Arabian Peninsula and the Gulf in the 1950s and 1960s, 79 INT’L LABOUR & WORK-CLASS HIST 28 (2011).
• When offshore oil deposits were discovered in Qatar in 1949, it was reported Sheikh Abdulla Jassim Al-Thani was placed under immense pressure from his family and abdicated. He allegedly “left it for his son to deal with the importunities of the relatives. When further oil revenues reached the new ruler’s bank accounts the British told him to spend it on public services or put it in reserve. Instead, he gave much of it to the sheiks, who plagued him with demands for ever larger allowances.” According to British reports, “by mid-1952 the Al Thani received a third of the revenue. In 1958 they received a stunning 45 percent of revenues.” Michael Herb, All in the Family: Absolutism, Revolution, and Democracy in Middle Eastern Monarchies 110 (1999).
• Bahry, supra note 52, at 125–27.
• Law Promulgating the System for Electing the Shura Council (Law No. 6/2021) (Qatar), https://perma.cc/6CN5-LQDX.
• Hessa Al-Thani, Aisha Al-Ahmadi & Ahmed Al-Emadi, Shura Council Election in Qatar: Influences That Shape How Voters Select Candidates, 32 Dig. Middle E. Stud. 6, 8 (2023) (stating that none of the twenty-nine female candidates were elected and only two were appointed). See also Katham Al-ghanim & Fathal Al-rubaei, Qatari attitude towards political participation : Constraints and ways empowerment 25 (2007).
• Provisional Constitution of the State of Qatar, art. 44 (Apr. 2 1970), https://perma.cc/7LF8-6LKF (“The Shura Council is composed as follows: (First): Twenty members are elected in the manner specified in this constitution. (Second): The ministers. The ruler may issue a decree to appoint a number of members, not exceeding three, if he deems it necessary for the public good”).
• Provisional Constitution of the State of Qatar 1970, art. 45 (“The Emirate of Qatar is divided into ten electoral districts, which are defined by law. Each district elects four members, from whom the ruler selects two to be representatives of the district in the Shura Council”).
• Law Concerning the Organization of the General Elections of the (Majlis al-Shura) in the State of Qatar, (Law No. 9/1970),  https://perma.cc/68YA-EYNT.
• Qatari Constitution (2021), art. 77.
• Law on the Acquisition of Qatari Nationality, [Qatar Nationality Law] (Law No. 38/2005), https://perma.cc/Z6WV-HXCQ.
• See Law No. 6/2021 art. 2(1), supra note 56, (confirming this distinction).
• Decree calling on citizens to vote in the referendum, (No. 87/2024) (Qatar), https://perma.cc/R4JY-GLBN.
• Farah Al-Sharif, Qatar Votes 90% in Favor of Constitutional Amendments, Doha News (Nov. 6, 2024), https://perma.cc/GCR6-24SC (arguing that 89% of the electorate voted in favor of the constitutional amendments).
• Kristin Smith Diwan, Electoral Law Sparks Debate Over Qatari Citizenship and Political Rights, The Arab Gulf States Inst. in Washington (2021), https://perma.cc/MPK9-6JYF.
• Irene Postigo Sanchez, Stability or Elections: A Look into Qatar’s 2024 Constitutional Referendum, Int’l IDEA (Nov. 7, 2024), https://perma.cc/B6R7-WF8D.
• Ali Alshawi & Andrew Gardner, Tribalism, Identity and Citizenship in Contemporary Qatar, 8 Anthropology Middle E. 46, 57 (2013) (explaining tribal relations in the State of Qatar although somewhat outdated as regards the issue of citizenship).
• This is a recurring theme in Qatar’s history, long before it became a sovereign state in 1971. In fact, Qatar’s National Day, which is celebrated on 18 December, commemorates the unification of all tribes under a single identity and under a single leader, namely Jassim bin Mohamed Al-Thani, in 1878.
• Ali Alshawi, Political influences of tribes in the state of Qatar: impact of tribal loyalty on political participation 3 (2002) (the book overall sets out the dominant families and the tribes and describes how they engage with the Emir in internal politics).
• Jon Gambrell, Qatar Ruler Says His Nation Will Vote on Abandoning Legislative Elections after Just One Poll, Associated Press (Oct. 16, 2024), https://perma.cc/UV3H-HZVU.
• Speech of HH The Amir at the 53rd Ordinary Session of the Shura Council, Amiri Diwan (Oct. 15, 2024) https://perma.cc/EFF6-UQRA.
• Rule of Law Index, World Just. Project (2025), https://perma.cc/LWT5-W46J.
•  Steve Czajkowski, Qatar Establishes Constitutional Court, Jurist News, (Sep. 28, 2009), https://perma.cc/22QM-GKAF.
• Qatar Const., supra note 4, art. 140 (setting out the jurisdiction and authority of the Constitutional Court).
• Law No. 38/2005 On the Acquisition of Qatari Nationality, art. 1: 

  “The following shall be deemed to be Qatari Nationals: 1.1  Those residents of Qatar who have been resident in the country since 1930 and who maintained regular legal residence in the country until the enforcement date of the aforementioned Law No. 2 of 1961. 

  1.2  Any person who is proved to be of Qatari descent, albeit in the absence of the conditions set forth in the preceding sub-article, and additionally, any person in respect to whom an Emiri decree has been promulgated.

  1.3  Persons to whom Qatari nationality has been reinstated in accordance with the provisions of law.

  1.4  Any person born in Qatar or in a foreign country to a Qatari father in accordance with the preceding Articles.”

  Law No. 38/2005, supra note 61.

• Decree No. 17/1998, art 1: 

  “The members of the Central Municipal Council can elect by each Qatari, in which the following conditions are met: His/ her original nationality must be Qatari, and at least fifteen years have passed since he acquired Qatari citizenship”

  Decree-Law No. 17 of 1998 Amending Certain Provisions of Law No. 3 of 1963 Concerning the Regulation of Foreigners’ Entry and Residence in Qatar, (Law No.17/1998), https://perma.cc/9M82-DS3F.

• Qatari Law No 38/2005, Nationality Law, art. 16
• Abdulaziz Ali & Logan Cochrane, Residency and Citizenship in the Gulf: Recent Policy Changes and Future Implications for the Region, 12 Compar. Migration Stud. 16 (2024); Rasha Abu Baker, Emirati Mothers of Foreign Children Hope that they will Soon be Embraced as UAE Citizens, Khaleej Times (July 10, 2022), https://perma.cc/7X22-BDSN; Wahiba Abu-Ras et al., Gendered Citizenship, Inequality, and Well-Being: The Experience of Cross-National Families in Qatar during the Gulf Cooperation Council Crisis (2017–2021), 19 Int’l. J. Env’t. Rsch. & Pub. Health 6638 (2022). See alsoBidoons in the United Arab Emirates, Geneva Council for Rts. & Liberties (2019), https://perma.cc/8MY7-QMW3 (discussing the discrimination against particular Bedouin tribes such as the Bidoon, who have been refused citizenship).
• See Majed Al-Ansari & Ismail Zahirovic, Contemporary National Identity in Qatar: Strong Foundations and Growing Challenges, 4 Gulf Stud. 1 (2021); Zahar R. Babar, The Cost of Belonging: Citizenship Construction in the State of Qatar, 68 Middle E. J. 403 (2014).
• See Sean Yom, Domestic Politics and Foreign Policy Change: The Gulf Model in Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, 6 GLOB ST Q 1 (2026) (suggesting that Western observers have always perceived them as conservative, autocratic and insular).
• See Eleni Polymenopoulou, Exploring the Oxymoron: The Legal Framework Governing Diversity in Gulf Arab States, 23 UCLA J. Islamic & Near E.  L. 1 (forthcoming 2026) (discussing the position of non-Muslims and expatriate foreign workers under Islamic law as well as modern Gulf laws).
• HH The Amir Inaugurates Shura Council’s Ordinary Session’, Qatar News Agency (Oct. 15, 2024), https://perma.cc/P75B-W5PC.
• See generally, Bantekas, supra note 10.
• Kingdom of Saudi Arabia Vision 2030, https://perma.cc/X3JS-NRMP; Abu Dhabi Economic Vision 2030, https://perma.cc/FTV4-ZTX7 (last visited May 20, 2026); Bahrain Economic Vision 2030, available at https://www.mofne.gov.bh/en/project-initiatives/bahrain-economic-vision-2030/ Oman Vision 2040, available at: https://www.oman2040.om/oman2040?lang=en
• Qatar’s National Vision of 2030, supra note 9; see also Saudi 2034 FIFA World Cup Bid Book, https://digitalhub.fifa.com/m/5590de2b652bef03/original/The-Saudi-Arabia-FIFA-World-Cup-2034-Bid-Book.pdf (An example of important policy instruments that shape to a large degree ordinary and constitutional laws of Gulf states); The Qatar National Development Strategy, available at https://www.psa.gov.qa/en/nds1/nds3/Documents/QNDS3_EN.pdf; Amazing Delivered For Football. For Qatar. For the World, FIFA World Cup Qatar 2022, https://perma.cc/PLZ4-YNRS.
• See Emiri Decision No. 4/2008 (Qatar); Adopting the Comprehensive Developmental Vision: Qatar National Vision 2030’, https://perma.cc/HYL7-FW7U (according to which all competent government bodies are to implement the Decision setting out the Vision).
• Id. art 2.
• Nadine Scharfenot, Urban Development and Social Change in Qatar: The Qatar National Vision 2030 and the 2022 FIFA World Cup, 2 J. Arabian Stud. 209, 210 (2012) (emphasizing the role and function of mega-sport events in Qatar’s National Vision as well its desire to engage more fully in sports diplomacy). The QNV does not specifically address the organization of mega-sporting events. The FIFA World Cup, in particular, was referred to in the Qatari 2011-16 National Development Strategy, which itself was part of the Qatar National Vision. See Qatar National Development Strategy 2011–2016: Summary of Programmes, Qatar Gen. Secretariat for Dev. Plan. (Sep. 2011),  https://dhareeba.gov.qa/assets/pdf/Qatar%20National%20Development%20Strategy%202011-2016.pdf.
• Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Kuwait Vision 2035 “New Kuwait”, https://perma.cc/5S9M-DLRR (last visited May 20, 2026).
• Among its key objectives in the last decade was to revive the proposal for an International Islamic Court of Justice, to be based in Kuwait. The project is currently stalled. The Statute of the proposed Court is available at, https://perma.cc/JS5G-Y8UU.
• See Rabah Arezki, Monopolization is Stifling Kuwait’s Economy -It’s Time to Rethink Top-Down Policies, ATLANTIC COUNCIL (11 Feb 2025), https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/books/monopolization-is-stifling-kuwaits-economy/.
• Hamdi A. Hassan, The Iraqi Invasion of Kuwait: Religion, Identity and Otherness in the Analysis of War and Conflict (1999); Ali Musallam, The Iraqi Invasion of Kuwait: Saddam Hussein, His State and International Power Politics (1996). 
• See Arwa Ibrahim, Thirty Years On, Iraq’s Invasion of Kuwait Still Haunts Region, AL JAZEERA (Aug. 2020), https://perma.cc/7EP4-4R2T.
• See David Ottaway and Marina Ottaway, A Tale of Four Worlds: The Arab Region After the Uprisings A Tale of Four Worlds: The Arab Region After the Uprisings (2019); Cherif Bassiouni, The Anatomy of the Arab Spring (2011–2015) 401, 403 in Constitutionalism, Human Rights, and Islam After the Arab Spring (Rainer Grote & Tilmann Röder eds., 2016). See generally Frederick Anscombe, The Ottoman Gulf: The Creation of Kuwait, Saudia Arabia, and Qatar (1997).
• Sean Yom, Will Kuwait’s Next Parliament Be Its Last?, J. DEMOCRACY (Mar. 2024), https://perma.cc/8DU9-NTYY; Nathan J. Brown, Kuwait in Suspended Animation, DIWAN (May 16, 2024), https://perma.cc/6HDB-W65P; see also Richard LeBaron,  Parliament was dissolved in Kuwait and Hardly Anyone Noticed, MENASource (May 20, 2024), https://perma.cc/L2TT-BL7A.
• Kuwait Const. (1962, reinstated 1992), available at https://perma.cc/CD7R-HBZA.
• Ministry of Information, The History of Democracy, https://perma.cc/37AV-MS7E (last visited May 20, 2026) (providing some information about the mandate of the first Constitutional Assembly of Kuwait). See also Gianluca Parolin, Generations of Gulf Constitutions: Paths and Perspectives, in Constitutional Reform and Political Participation in the Gulf, 51, 51–52 (Abdulahi Khalaf & Giacomo Luciani eds., 2006).
• Kuwait Const., supra note 92, art. 6. 
• Id. arts. 27–49. See Fadi Nader, Kuwait: Human Rights under the Constitution, 7 YB Islamic & Middle E. L. 267, 268-74 (2001).
• Emily Regan Wills, Democratic Paradoxes: Women's Rights and Democratization in Kuwait, 67 Middle E. J. 173, 173-78 (2013).
• Qatar Const.,supra note 4, art. 1. As mentioned elsewhere in the introduction to this article, art 1 of the Qatari Constitution proclaims the country’s political system in democratic terms.
• Seegenerally, Basak Calı & Nazila Ghanea, Big Promises, Small Gains: Domestic Effects of Human Rights Treaty Ratification in the Member States of the Gulf Cooperation Council, 38 Hum. Rts. Q. 21 (2016) (arguing that Gulf States offset many of their civil and political rights obligations through the provision of extensive socio-economic rights).
• U.A.E. Const. art. 99. The UAE Federal Supreme Court is the highest-ranking court in the country and possesses authority over the constitutionality of laws, interpretation of the constitution and adjudicating intra-Emirate disputes.
• Khalifa Thamer Alhamidah, Direct Constitutional Challenges in Kuwait, 21 YB Islamic & Middle E. L. 1, 3–7 (2022).
• Since the early 1950s, Kuwait’s Education Department provided financial assistance to schools, charities, and political and cultural organisations. Talal Al-Rashoud, From Muscat to the Maghreb: Pan-Arab Networks, Anti-colonial Groups, and Kuwait’s Arab Scholarships (1953–1961), 12 Arab Humans. 1 (2019).
• Id., 2-5.
• Hilary Kalisman, Bursary Scholars at the American University of Beirut: Living and Practicing Arab Unity, 42 Brit. J. Middle E. Stud. 599 (2015).
• Bader Nasser Al-Mutairi, ‘Alkuwait fe ahd Abdulla Al-Salem (1950-1965): Bretanya wa Al-Sabah wal nift’ [Kuwait during the era of Abdullah Al-Salem (1950-1965): Britain, the Sabah family and oil] ALJARIDA (9 September 2020) https://www.aljarida.com/articles/1599581477132914800
• Id. The most prominent of which were the Teachers’ Club, the Graduates’ Club, the Al-Jazeera Club, the Al-Sahel Cultural Club, and the National Cultural Club headed by Doctor Ahmed Al-Khatib
• Id.
• Kuwait’s adoption of Arab nationalism was manifested, among others, in a desire to join the United Arab Republic and later condemning the British aggression in the Suez Canal crisis. See Elie Podeh, To Unite or Not to Unite: That Is Not the Question: The 1963 Tripartite Unity Talks Reassessed, 39 MIDD EAST STUD 151, 154-60 (2003).
• Fathy MM Khalil et al., The Position of the Kuwaiti Clubs Committee During the 1956 Suez Crisis, 3 BUHUTH 88 (2023) (providing an analysis of the assistance, political and otherwise, provided by the Committee during the Suez crisis and its proximity to Arab nationalism).
• Id.
• Elie Podeh, To Unite or Not to Unite: That Is Not the Question: The 1963 Tripartite Unity Talks Reassessed, 39 Middle E. Stud. 151 (2003).
• By way of illustration, women in Greece were allowed to vote for the first time in the 1956 general elections.
• Ali A. Alkandari, The Muslim Brotherhood in Kuwait: 1941–1991 (Steven Wright & Abdullah Baabood eds., 2023) (explaining that the Brotherhood has been the most significant movement in Kuwait’s history).
• Zeynep N Kaya, Women’s Electoral Participation in Kuwait, LSE Kuwait Programme Paper Series (2021), https://researchonline.lse.ac.uk/id/eprint/110877/2/Women_s_Electoral_Participation_in_Kuwait.pdf
• See Kuwait Const., preamble, emphasizing that the country should be: 

  “striving towards a better future in which the Nation may enjoy an abundance of comfort and a higher international standing, a future which shall provide citizens with ample political freedom, equality and social justice as well, which shall brace the props of those traits in which the Arab spirit is kneaded such as pride in the dignity of the individual” 

  Human rights and Arab nationalism are inextricably linked and interwoven.

• See Omar Al Jasser & Nathan J. Brown, Will Kuwait’s Parliamentary Democracy Be Restored, Reformed, or Repudiated?, Carnegie Endowment for Peace, Mar. 2025, https://perma.cc/QAK4-J8Z6 (providing insight into this quasi-parliamentary, semi-democratic model that oscillates between a semi-absolute hereditary ruler and a national assembly, and noting that Kuwait is “Halfway Between a Constitutional and Absolute Monarchy”); Hamad Albloshi, Kuwait: A Political System in Crisis, in The Making of Contemporary Kuwait: Identity, Politics, and its Survival Strategy, 26, 26 (Mahjoob Zweiri & Sinem Cengiz eds., 2024); see also Ghanim Alnajjar, The Challenges Facing Kuwaiti Democracy, 54 Middle E. J. 242, 243-48 (2004).
• Kuwait Const., art. 51.
• Id. art. 56(3).
• Id. art. 65(1).
• Id. art. 66.
• Id. art. 80.
• Amiri Order on the Dissolution of the National Assembly and the Suspension of Certain Constitutional Provisions, art. 1 (Kuwait, May 2024) (in Arabic) https://perma.cc/W3SQ-95ED. See also George Sadek, Kuwait: Royal Order Dissolves Parliament and Suspends Constitutional Provisions, Library of Congress (May 24, 2024) https://perma.cc/RFJ9-RK6Q.
• Kuwait Const., art. 107(1).
• Amiri Order, supra note 115, art. 2.
• Id.
• Id.
• Kuwait Const. art. 71(2) provides that the National Assembly shall apply checks and balances on the authority of the executive. It allows the Assembly to approve Emiri Orders in situations giving rise to urgent action, under the terms of para. 1 of art. 72. This may also have a serious implication on the approval of the national budget, which is now removed from the authority of the Assembly. See also art. 140 (“The State shall prepare the comprehensive annual Budget scheme of the State's revenues and expenditure and shall submit it to the National Assembly […]”) and art. 141 (“The Budget shall be debated at the National Assembly [. . .]”).
• Id. art. 107, (referring to the power of the Emir to dissolve the Constitution for a single time, and even so must offer [valid and serious] reasons).
• Id. art. 174 allows the Emir and at least one third of the Assembly to propose the amendment of the Constitution. However, in order for an amending proposal to be accepted, it is required that at least two thirds of the members of the Assembly provide their consent.
• Id. art. 181 (“No provision of this Constitution may be suspended save in the course of Martial Law and within the limits determined by Law. National Assembly conventions may not, in any circumstance, be suspended during that period, nor may the immunity of its members be violated.”).
• See Sean L. Yom, Will Kuwait’s Next Parliament Be Its Last?, J. Democracy (Mar. 2024), https://perma.cc/8DU9-NTYY; (referring to the speech, available at https://perma.cc/HBR3-A6JJ).
• Dania Thafer, Interview: Unpacking Kuwait’s Parliament Dissolution, Afkār: Middle East Council on Global Affairs (June 2, 2024), https://perma.cc/WHG3-6FYQ. See also Robert P. Beschel Jr., Interview: Kuwait’s First Elections under the New Emir, Afkār: Middle East Council on Global Affs. (Apr. 9, 2024), https://perma.cc/PS3Z-CDQH.
• Amiri Order, supra note 115.
• Vivian Nereim, Kuwaiti Emir Suspends Parliament, Citing Political Tumult, N.Y. Times, (May 10, 2024), https://perma.cc/H9DA-45CZ.
• Giorgio Cafiero, Kuwait: What Will Come of This ‘Illiberal Moment’?, Middle East Eye, (June 1, 2024), https://perma.cc/XQD5-375H.
• Courtney Freer, Kuwait’s Disunited Opposition Finds Grilling Ministers Its Only Way to Fight Back, Gulf Int’l Forum (Mar. 24, 2021), https://perma.cc/D7VU-H68R.
• Sean Yom, Kuwait’s Democratic Promise, 34 J. Democracy 46, 46-49 (2023).
• Ghanim Alnajjar, The Challenges Facing Kuwaiti Democracy, 54 Middle E. J. 240, 242 (2000).
• Ilias Bantekas, Engaging the UN Security Council in Zero Intensity Conflicts: Qatar’s Embargo, 23 Max Planck YB UN L. 145 (2019) (demonstrating that Qatar made maximum use of international dispute resolution mechanisms, as well as political processes to resolve the tension).
• Al-Ula Declaration, Bahr.-Egypt-Kuwait-Oman-Qatar-Saudi Arabia-U.A.E., Jan. 5, 2021, U.N.T.S. No. 56786.
• See سمو الأمير يصدر أمرا أميريا بحل مجلس الأمة وتولي اختصاصاته للأمير ومجلس الوزراء [His Highness the Emir Issues an Amiri Order Dissolving the National Assembly and Transferring Its Powers to the Emir and the Council of Ministers], Al-Seyassah, (May 10, 2024), https://perma.cc/7RFL-WEPW.
• SeeAddressing the Constitutional Crisis and Political Instability in Kuwait, Middle E. Democracy Center (Nov. 2024), https://perma.cc/LW5X-NZ3H.
• Eleni Polymenopoulou, Sharia and Human Rights Law in the Constitutional Framework of Gulf States, 46 Hum. Rts. Q. 1, 23 (2024) (noting that the Kuwaiti constitutional court has issued a series of judgments in sensitive areas that clash with established Islamic values, and that the Court has found that all these values can and should be reconciled).
• In contrast, the issue of Kuwaiti citizenship is becoming more constrained for certain nomadic people, chiefly the so-called Bidoon of the country. Their fragmented residence and citizenship rights are a matter of concern from a human rights perspective. See Mary Ann Tétreault & Haya al-Mughni, Gender, Citizenship and Nationalism in Kuwait, 22 Brit. J. Middle E. Stud. 64, 71–72 (1995).
• It is no accident that Qatar has managed to position itself as one of the most credible mediators for Middle East and African conflicts. See Ilias Bantekas, No-Concession Policies and the 2023 Israel-Hamas Agreement in Context, 40 Am. U. Int’l L. Rev. 25 (2024).
• See generally Federalism and Decentralization in the Contemporary Middle East and North Africa (Asli Ü. Bâli & Omar M. Dajani eds., 2023); Clark Lombardi, State Law as Islamic Law in Modern Egypt (2006); The Rule of Law in the Islamic Republic of Iran (Hadi Enayat & Mirjam Künkler eds., 2025) (even Iran has become the focus of comparative constitutional attention in the West and this book explores the friction between constitutional demands of the Iran population against the intransigence of the regime against change and broader reforms).
• Ilias Bantekas & Ahmed Abdelgawad, Constitutional Dismemberment Theory and its Application to Egyptian Amendments, 34 Mich. ST. Int’l L. Rev. 1 (2026) (discussing the back-sliding of the Egyptian Constitution through the powers assumed by its non-democratically elected president through the so-called process of constitutional dismemberment).