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Numerous are the legacies bequeathed by the life and work of Fred Halliday. His words, broadcast and published in half a dozen languages, had a greater impact on the understanding of international issues than most public intellectuals of his generation. The breadth of his influence can be partially gleaned from the formal obituaries, testimonies, commentaries and initial academic analyses — as well as several posthumous works of his own — which have been published since his death at the age of 64 in Barcelona on 26 April 2010.1

Over four decades Halliday combined the roles of activist, academic, author and critical public commentator. Irrespective of his audience or the language he used, his analyses were anchored solidly in his belief that enlightenment rationality and principles could demystify political issues. Academically, his approach was rooted in his commitment to the heuristic clarity of comparative methodology in the social sciences. Halliday had been writing and editing professionally for almost fifteen years, with four books and hundreds of articles as well as an exceptional fluency in European and Middle Eastern languages to his name when he was appointed to a post in the department of international relations at the London School of Economics in 1983.

His professional life wove together multiple strands of teaching, writing and broadcasting, with his career marking the vicissitudes of the intellectual left on a range of key political issues, notably over the role of rights in the critique of anti-imperialist struggles. His analyses straddled the impact of the final decades of the Cold War on US and Soviet policy, particularly in the third world, thence focusing on the re-emergence of global liberal capitalism and its impact on the states and societies which he had studied. His empirical focus was above all on the ‘Greater Middle East’, the region whose vernacular languages and politics he knew the best, where he forged his longest lasting friendships, and where his work had the greatest impact.

However, his analyses confronted head-on those who sought to posit an exceptional or homogeneous ‘Middle East’. From his first work, Arabia without Sultans (1974) through to his synoptic The Middle East in International Relations (2005a), Halliday systematically sought to debunk myth-making about Middle Eastern states, their peoples, leaders and the ideologies and religions they espoused. He maintained that the processes of state formation in the Middle East, and the forms of domestic politics, regional and international relations they gave rise to, shared common features with the rest of the decolonized third world. As such he identified commonalities in the experiences, rights and aspirations of all those in states forged from the collapse of empire.

In terms of the genealogies and practices of ‘development’, three aspects of Halliday's work stand out: the first is his extensive analysis of the nature and impact of the final decades of the Cold War upon the third world. His books on the Making of the Second Cold War (1983), on Soviet policy in the third world, Threat from the East? (1982) and, above all, Cold War, Third World (1989) provide incisive insights into how US–USSR rivalry shaped states of the south, most particularly those which attempted social and political revolutions. The second aspect is provided by his sustained empirical analyses of the regional and international constraints faced by third world states themselves. This work focused initially on those states which instigated social and political revolutions, notably Yemen, Afghanistan, Ethiopia and Iran, then more synoptically the states of the Middle East as a whole.2

However, a third aspect of his work — reflecting on the nature, potentials and limits of internationalist solidarity — may yet prove his most enduring legacy for those engaged in the social sciences and ‘development’. This work evolved partly via the evolution of his own experiences, engagements and arguments which he used to interrogate the broader political and intellectual shifts on the left since the 1970s. Faced with an increasingly unified but unequal world of global capitalism, and accelerating material inequalities both within and between states since the end of the Cold War, Halliday's work asks on what foundations meaningful critical solidarity between activists and scholars in north and south can be built.

In terms of the praxis of solidarities, from the late 1980s Halliday was increasingly critical of the introspective nature of many in what he tellingly labelled the ‘left-enclosures’ in the West and their failures to self-critically examine the moral and political questions underpinning ‘anti-imperialism’. These differences crystallised most sharply over the 1990–91 Gulf War, in arguments examined briefly below.

Faced with his dauntingly long academic bibliography, dominated by the study of the contemporary Middle East and a systematic engagement with academic international relations theory and practice,3 it is easily forgotten that Halliday's primary vocation was above all as a public intellectual, and that a key component of his conception of solidarity was a commitment to clarity of language in informing public understanding and engagement. This role extended not simply to mainstream print journalism but covered an extensive array of public speaking engagements, as well as near continuous radio and television broadcasting, in both English and foreign languages, over four decades.

As a prominent public intellectual Halliday championed the need for accountable public institutions, including universities, and a pluralist media.4 He frequently lamented the deterioration in the reporting and understanding of international affairs, particularly in the Anglo-American world, since the 1960s. These concerns are demonstrated most vividly in his posthumously published work, Political Journeys (2011b), which brings together essays penned in the final decade of his life for the online forum openDemocracy. This work is prefaced by an eloquent intellectual and political assessment by Stephen Howe, who encapsulates: ‘Fred's particular combination of mutability and steadfastness, his coupling of a willingness always to question and rethink with lifelong adherence to a set of core values’ (2010). The evolution of these ‘core values’ faced with the tectonic shifts in international geopolitics and power during Halliday's life have already been the focus of several initial academic intellectual assessments, evaluating his impact, work and influence on both Middle Eastern studies and international relations. These include a special edition of International Affairs published in September 2011.5

Not even death could halt Halliday's prodigious flow of publications.6 In addition to the essays collected in Political Journeys, several other books have appeared posthumously: a monograph of the Dominican revolutionary Camaano (2011a); a 330-page analysis of how the post-2001 ‘War on Terror’ changed politics and language (Shocked and Awed, 2011c); plus a second edition7 of his book on Yemeni workers in Britain, originally entitled Arabs in Exile (1992). In addition, at least two unfinished works remain in the pipeline, including an ambitious overview of cosmopolitanism and internationalism, elements of which are examined below.

As the tributes and publications since his death highlight, Halliday was as prolific as he was unclassifiable. As one testament puts it: ‘It was a too-short lifetime's writing of staggering range and power, of both breadth and depth: almost impossible adequately to survey, hugely taxing even to summarize’ (Howe, 2010). This article therefore has no pretentions to be an assessment, rather it attempts to highlight selected aspects of Halliday's intellectual and political legacies. Firstly it highlights the degree to which his travels and writing in the tumult of the 1970s — prior to embarking on an academic career in 1983 — influenced his subsequent work and outlook, notably towards social and political change, nationalism, revolution and role of the state and ideology, particularly in the third world. Secondly it notes how his critical dialogue with scholars and activists refined his notion of solidarity. Finally this text focuses on his later interests in the uses and abuses of language in politics, seeing these as central to his critical appreciation of the role of both the academic and universities in the twenty-first century.


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In December 1978 former US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger warned of an American ‘geopolitical decline from Vietnam through Angola, Ethiopia, South Yemen and Afghanistan’. A new ‘Arc of Crisis’ was how Zbigniew Brezezinski, the serving National Security Advisor to US president Jimmy Carter, then labelled the states stretching from Afghanistan through Iran, the Arabian Peninsula into the Horn of Africa. It was no coincidence that Halliday had focused upon the states and societies comprising this ‘Arc of Crisis’, in an extensive series of journeys, writings and engagements over the 1970s. During this period his writings on revolt and resistance in the states where superpower rivalry intermeshed with domestic revolutionary upheavals played a significant part in informing those on the English-speaking left about events in this region. His vivid analyses stressed the local specificities and contradictions of revolutionary movements when viewed from the ground; in numerous publications on the left his by-line became a near permanent feature in these years — notably in Middle East Report (MERIP), the New Left Review (on whose editorial board Halliday also served) and the Transnational Institute. By 1978, the year of the communist coup in Kabul and the dramatic escalation of US and Soviet arms transfers to Somalia and Ethiopia, Halliday had also become an increasingly frequent and valued commentator in the mainstream media, particularly the Guardian newspaper and the BBC World Service.8

Few other journalists or academics had travelled and written so extensively between the capitals and plethora of left-wing movements and factions active across what emerged as the deepening fault line in the revival of the Cold War in the third world from the mid-1970s onwards. Kabul, Herat, Tehran, Oman's Dhofar, Cairo, Baghdad, Aden, Addis Ababa and countless stopping points in between, Fred had been there. As Roger Owen said of those years, ‘he always seemed to have been somewhere first, to have summed up the situation there before I or those with similar interests had even begun to put together a few first incoherent thoughts about it’ (2010: 310). Halliday had not only been there, but he also had a sharp eye, deft pen and rapidly expanding understandings of a myriad of local politics and languages which went hand in hand with his critical empathy towards the peoples he wrote about. He also possessed an intuitive ability to analyse specific events within a broader regional and international framework that few could match.

Incessant travelling throughout the 1970s was driven by several interlocking factors; an insatiable curiosity about the cultures and languages of a region which had spawned a series of anti-imperialist struggles; an empathy and directness of communications with the activists and citizens he met and interviewed; this in turn spawned an unparalleled network of contacts, providing a bedrock of friendships and alliances for much of the remainder of his career.

A key feature of all of his writings and contacts during this formative period was a fastidious attention to local detail, attempting to understand the experiences, contradictions and local interpretation of political struggles that he encountered. It was what he later termed ‘doing the work’, first and foremost to know one's facts by talking to people in their own languages.

Viewed by students in the twenty-first century, an engagement with the short-lived and ill-fated Marxist-inspired rebellion against the Sultan of Oman in the rugged and arid province of Dhofar may appear an improbable starting point for a career of the person who was arguably the most significant English language writer on the Middle East of the late twentieth century. In truth the ‘choice’ of Dhofar was partly serendipitous; in 1967 Halliday moved from Oxford to post-graduate study in London's School of Oriental and African Studies. A fellow student there, Fawwaz Trabulsi, already had extensive contacts in the Arab National Movement, to which the People's Front for the Liberation of Oman and Occupied Arab Gulf (PFLOAG, to give the Dhofari rebels their full title and geographic aspirations) was affiliated. Facilitated by ANM contacts, Halliday visited Dhofar in 1970 and 1973, interviewing and arguing with fighters and activists. He witnessed from the inside the fragmentation and divisions among radical Arab nationalist and Marxist movements then ricocheting through the Middle East. These trips, and those to PFLOAG supporters in South Yemen, also honed his Arabic. This ‘fieldwork’ was to provide the foundations for four decades of critical engagement with the states and societies of Arabia and the Gulf in general, and Oman and Yemen in particular. For all his subsequent erudition and extensive publications, on Yemen in particular, Halliday always resisted regional narcissism; from the outset for him the Middle East was ‘part of a broader pattern of Third World revolt that took place, not just in Algeria after 1954, Iraq in 1958, Yemen in 1962 and in Palestine after 1967, but also in Cuba, South Africa and Vietnam’ (1996: 197), and as such informed his general worldview of anti-imperialist struggle.

It was travels with the Omani rebels which informed his first book, Arabia without Sultans (1974), a characteristically ambitious analysis of both the politics and economics of the Arabian peninsula. It was published as a popular Penguin paperback in the wake of the 1973–74 oil crisis which both brought the strategic role of the Arabian states to the attention of a western public, and triggered the petro-dollars which were to rapidly transform the future of the Sultans and Emirs whose demise Halliday had prematurely anticipated. Both the timing and scope of the book brought Halliday's writing to the attention of a far wider audience than the restricted left-wing circles for which he had hitherto written. Its genesis in travels with PFLOAG via the ANM also helps explain Halliday's subsequent, historically contingent and critical analysis of Arab nationalism and ideology more broadly.

By 1976, PFLOAG had been crushed, largely by British Special Forces employed by the beleaguered Sultan. The guerrilla fighters with whom Halliday honed his Arabic dialects in the early 1970s were either killed, driven into fractious exile (initially in neighbouring Yemen), or co-opted by the Sultan. Halliday published an account of PFLOAG's defeat in Mercenaries in the Persian Gulf: Counter-insurgency in the Gulf (1977).9

For Halliday it was this initial inauspicious engagement which prompted a life-long immersion in the politics of the region. Building on Arabia without Sultans, Halliday collected the notes and interviews, particularly during a prolonged stay in Aden in 1977, for what would become both his PhD thesis and eventually, in 1990, Revolution and Foreign Policy: The Case of South Yemen. He went on to write some of his most persuasive and finely-grained analyses of Middle Eastern politics on Yemen.10 Multiple visits to southern Arabia were complemented in the later 1970s with trips to both Afghanistan and Iran. He had first visited Iran when a student, and it became the focus of his second major book, Iran, Dictatorship and Development (1979). This was published on the eve of the revolution; a second edition swiftly followed as did several reprints, with the text eventually translated into nine languages.

The broad themes explored in his works both on Iran and Arabia remained relevant years after their initial publication. Halliday's core thesis in Arabia without Sultans, of impending social and political revolution in Arabia and the Gulf, clearly proved illusory. The reasons for this he subsequently examined elsewhere, as autocrats consolidated their power via rentier states, while drawing their working classes from migrants.11 A second edition of Arabia was published by Saqi in 1997. In the preface to this Halliday penned a characteristically candid, largely unrepentant, defence of the pertinence both of the scope and aims of the book, arguing that the demystification of Arabian society viewed through a resolutely materialist and secular lens, while striking an analytical balance between domestic, regional and international influences, was every bit as necessary as it had been two decades earlier.12

He acknowledged that Arabia without Sultans had reflected ‘both the tone and language of the revolutionary left of this epoch … [including] … some of the rhetorical delusion of that outlook, above all an uncritical attitude to armed struggle in general and the potential of the Dhofar guerrillas in particular’ (1997: 27). While his attitude to armed struggle shifted after the mid-1970s, in the original text Halliday had already demarcated his differences with the European left over both nationalism and ‘underdevelopment’, beginning what became a cautious endorsement of a ‘Warrenite’ view of the possibility of development under capitalism, against the then prevalent dependency orthodoxy of the left. Halliday's incessant travels and interviews across the Middle East, underscored for him that the global market was not ineluctably an agent of impoverishment, but ‘also a force for development and one that stimulated the emergence of new political and social forces’ (1997: 27).

During his post-graduate degree in the School of Oriental and African Studies (1967–69) he had been taught and inspired by Bill Warren's critique of the then dominant Leninist ‘under-development’ thesis. He later reflected that ‘Marxism was a major influence here [in SOAS] but, as the debates of the period showed so well, Marxism provided not a set of answers so much as a framework within which to examine these questions’ (1996: 197). Halliday cited Warren as a key influence, both on his materialist analysis of the developmental potential of states in the Middle East and elsewhere, and on his ‘contingent’ stance on imperialism:

Bill argued, against dependency theory, and against facile nativism and facile anti-imperialism, that not only was it the original position of Marx and Engels in the Manifesto and in Capital, but that historically, capitalism and imperialism had played a progressive role in transforming the world, in creating new classes, in spreading new ideas, in colonizing the Americas. And that imperialism has played a contradictory role, that not everything it did has been bad. It fought fascism in the Second World War, for example.13

Elsewhere Halliday argued that ‘Despite some overstatement of his argument, Warren's thesis stands a powerful corrective to the prevailing literature of anti-imperialism, both in substantive analysis and in its resolutely anti-relativist, and anti-whingeing tone’ (1996: 245), and that ‘ … it became evident that there were no simple answers to the question of the role played by foreign domination, let alone the problem of how to address the issues posed by the new regimes in the Middle East’ (1996: 197).

By 1977, when Halliday visited the People's Democratic Republic of Yemen, Aden was hosting radical opposition groups from throughout the Middle East and Horn of Africa. While in the early 1970s Eritrean factions had been present in the firmament of revolutionary and radical Arab diasporas in Aden, the 1974 Ethiopian revolution reconfigured not just the Ethio-Eritrea war itself, but also regional and superpower alliances in the Horn. Revolutionary Ethiopia, now a ‘leading state of socialist orientation’ in the hierarchy of Soviet foreign policy, forged close ties with the PDRY. This brought Halliday and his wife Maxine Molyneux — at the time undertaking a study of women's employment in the People's Democratic Republic of Yemen — into contact with a range of Ethiopian officials and students in Aden. Research and travel to Ethiopia followed, spawning what became a jointly authored book. As with the earlier Arabian and Iranian books, The Ethiopian Revolution (Halliday and Molyneux, 1981) is above all an attempt to dissect the domestic, regional and international origins and repercussions of the revolution.

Reading this work thirty years on, what is striking is not primarily the authors’ cautious, critical support for the embryonic revolution, but their acute awareness of limitations of the competing forces within the country. They unsparingly dissect the fissiparous currents of student radicalism, national and ethnic movements spawned by the rupturing Empire. They highlight the contradictions of Soviet and Cuban intervention in the myriad of internal conflicts — then as now — wracking Eritrea, Ethiopia and Somalia. Viewed with hindsight, the authors’ analysis of the bloody intersection of ideology, ethnicity and nationalism, and their likely long-term consequences, is prescient: ‘the fact of ethnic conflict and of a central government's denial of autonomy to nationalities does not contradict the claim that a social revolution has occurred. Indeed the record of such revolutions is, if anything, the reverse: comprehensive social upheavals in multinational states provoke national and ethnic conflicts to which the revolutionary governments respond in a centralizing manner’ (ibid.: 157). On what became a central characteristic of Ethiopian politics, they ask: ‘why it was that a revolution in which the nationalities issue played apparently such a secondary part should have led to such carnage and ethnic unrest in the succeeding years’ (ibid.: 158). They highlight the paradox that the ‘national question’ divided and paralysed revolutionary student and military leaders alike: ‘the results of this impasse have been tragic: whilst Ethiopia faced probably less overt counter-revolution than any other modern revolution, its post-revolutionary history has been marked by extremes of bloodshed that have cost many lives, destroyed areas of the country, stored up new resentments and made the establishment of a stable and popular regime all the more remote’ (ibid.: 159, emphasis added).

Although often overlooked in Halliday's work, The Ethiopian Revolution became pivotal for his subsequent broader work in two ways: firstly on the international consequences of revolutions; secondly, in terms of the manner in which social and political upheavals across the region influenced Soviet–US relations.14 This concern was the focus not only of Threat from the East: Soviet Policy in the Arc of Crisis (1982), but also the Making of the Second Cold War (1983), and Cold War, Third World (1989). The latter work is the most forceful statement of Halliday's overall analysis of the role that the third world played both in the gestation of the Cold War, and in its ending --- the latter in part via the need from the mid-1980s for the USSR to make concessions in the Horn, the Greater Middle East and elsewhere in the third world ‘in order to concentrate its efforts on revitalization at home’ (ibid.: 163).15


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For a scholar whose writing was rooted first and foremost in a historical materialist framework, at first glance Halliday's work appears to have curiously little space or time for the impersonal forces of abstract economics. Indeed overall he was as sceptical of the economic determinism of friends on the left, notably during his editorship of NLR (1968–83), as he was of ‘market fetishists’ among colleagues in LSE subsequently. He was fond of citing the maxim of his colleague Susan Strange, ‘always attack the economists’, usually adding for good measure Ayatollah Khomeini's quip that ‘economics is for donkeys’.16

Even the early analyses in a Marxist mode are, on close inspection, above all empirical examinations of the variegated impact of capitalism on specific societies. Halliday was consistent in arguing that it is essentially the historical process of states’ interactions with markets which shape outcomes for classes within the societies he studied. However, despite scepticism towards any form of economic determinism, the impact of capitalism upon states and societies in the decolonized world was central to his work. Repeatedly in his later texts Halliday returned to the theme that alongside war, it was the growing inequality wrought by post-Cold War liberal capitalism which posed the fundamental challenge to humankind in the twenty-first century. This was strikingly so in his collection of essays seeking to elucidate the context and historical background of the forces which produced the violence of 9/11, Two Hours Which Shook the World: September 11 Causes and Consequences (2002), most explicitly in the chapter ‘Global Inequality and Global Rancour’. It also features prominently in the synoptic presentation of his core teachings on the region, The Middle East in International Relations, eventually published in 2005.17 He maintained that ‘The reality and perception of inequality in the contemporary world constitute the greatest weakness of globalization and the one that contains, over the long-run, the most potential for political disruption, within and between states’ (ibid.: 187). In a collection of essays published earlier in 2001, The World at 2000, Halliday characterized both colonialism and communism as ‘two ambitious, but crude, attempts to address the problem of the gap between the developed and less developed worlds… The question remains as to whether a third attempt to create a unified world, by way of globalization, can do any better and at less human cost’ (ibid.: 71).

His analyses of the inequalities underpinning the revival of global liberal capitalism again drew on a deeper, quintessentially Warrenite, understanding of the transformatory power of markets. He was dubious about the novelty of ‘globalization’, viewing it primarily as the acceleration of the spread of capitalist markets, underway since the sixteenth century. He was scornful of the vacuous, a-historical ‘globalony’ rampant within academia in the 1990s, insisting that ‘globalisation … poses normative choices, as much as it defies analytic comprehension’ (2002: 175). In this he echoed the analytical scepticism of his longstanding friend and intellectual sparring partner Paul Hirst, using this critique of globalization to stress the autonomy of the state as the basis for the possibility for progressive politics (Hirst and Thompson, 1999). In this view, there was nothing inevitable about states’ reactions to the forces of global capitalism. These were based on political choices forged within democratic states, and should be informed by core Enlightenment principles — however neglected such principles might appear amidst the hubris and academic neologisms of the twenty-first century. He resolutely maintained his faith in such principles, while noting: ‘The spirit of the times is marked, on the one hand, by an apparently vital faith in the working of impersonal forces — market, chip, genome — on the other, by a deep pessimism about the possibilities of any rational perspective project, derived from the Enlightenment’ (ibid.: 192).

Fundamentally, Halliday saw inequality as a defining characteristic of international relations, with the responsibility for overcoming the inequalities driving globalization lying with democratically controlled states. In the Middle East, Halliday stressed the manner in which the failure of states’ rulers to use oil revenues productively had accentuated the marginalization of the region within the global economy. He viewed the processes of state formation, in which governments levied no income or corporation taxes, while incomes rose and youths’ expectations rocketed, ‘on any normal comparative social science criteria, a recipe for catastrophe’ (2005a: 267), highlighting three crises facing states in the Middle East: the marginalization of the region within the global economy; declining state revenues; and the inability of local labour markets to provide sufficient employment. All contributed to unsustainable levels of youth unemployment, acute regional income disparities and major migration flows — of which Yemen, both the most populous and poorest state in the Arabian peninsular, was an all too stark example. These trends were exacerbated by the failure of Middle Eastern states — rich and poor alike — to boost chronically low rates both of literacy (particularly for women) and education levels, which lagged far behind those in East Asia (ibid.: 299).


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Several aspects of Halliday's attitude to ‘solidarity’ are worthy of note: firstly the degree to which his own life and work epitomized immensely practical forms of engaged solidarities. This was primarily via loyal — which invariably meant argumentative and critical — engagement with a series of intellectual groupings, publishers and institutions. Solidarity was also manifest in his wide range of personal contacts, which he consistently shared to spark intellectual and political synergies, be it among students, exiles, broadcasters, editors or diplomats. Halliday valued direct, vernacular experience first and foremost; believing that only when the shifting realities of political conjunctures had been grasped from and by the participants, could their broader significance in modifying theoretical frameworks be attempted.

Institutionally, Halliday had a long and fruitful relationship with both New Left Books (for whom he translated Korsch's Marxism and Philosophy in 1970) and New Left Review, on whose editorial board he served from 1968–83.18 In 1975 he became affiliated to the Transnational Institute (TNI) in Amsterdam, also producing studies for their parent body, the Washington-based Institute for Policy Studies (IPS). His critical engagement with, and understanding of, left internationalists in the US was influenced by two overlapping Middle Eastern networks; Middle East Research and Information Project (MERIP, later Middle East Reports) for whom he wrote and worked extensively for three decades, and the informal, London-based Middle East Study Group, through whose meetings and friendships key debates and analyses on the region were hammered out.19

In these and other fora, Halliday was invariably a generous and supportive colleague and mentor, acting as a conduit for untold numbers of refugees, students and analysts interested in foreign affairs in London. Few scholars or journalists could match his unique style of argumentation; Roger Owen (part of the early Middle East Study Group along with Sami Zubaida, Hamza Alavi and others) poignantly evokes Halliday's ‘serious style of argumentation, often interrupted by a sort of dark chuckle at the hypocrisies and wilful foolishness of those he thought blinded by their own ideological certainties’(2010: 312). Stephen Howe echoes the same trait: ‘He was incorrigibly argumentative. But that is not the same as being quarrelsome or ill-tempered: those he was not’, stressing that this propensity for argument was central to Halliday's method and principles, and in no way reflected ‘personal pique, self-interest or malice: the disagreements were always about important issues of principle for him … there was always a kind of generosity even in Fred's anger or scorn. He was never casually or callously aggressive’.

Howe was an editor at New Statesman during the bitter debates on the left following Iraq's invasion of Kuwait in 1990; Halliday's principled defence of external intervention lost him more friends, and left him with more bruises, than any other episode in his life.20 The debate over the nature of Saddam Hussein's rule, Kuwaiti sovereignty and external military intervention sharply focused his critique of the Left's attitude to war for what he termed its ‘inability to grasp the moral and political questions involved’.21 For him, those on the left who opposed US actions on ‘anti-imperialist’ grounds had failed to grasp the political nature of the Iraqi Baathist project (which he termed a ‘linear descendant of European fascism’). They also ignored the flawed lessons of ‘anti-imperialism’ in Ireland, Palestine and Iran, and had fudged the issue of establishing what the left's criteria for the legitimate use of force would be.22 Halliday's critique of the ‘anti-imperialist’ left remains of pertinence two decades on:

The unique reliance on anti-imperialism as a criterion for political action is confused in three respects: first it allots all responsibility for oppression and domination in the world to the US and its allies, something that is a form of inverted imperialism in itself; second it fails to guide those in the Third World as to what they can, and cannot, do in the face of US power; and third, it fails to provide what alternative analysis of US foreign policy should provide, namely a measured assessment of the factors that do drive it and the impact which it has. It is, if treated as a universal instance, a moralistic evasion. Here, of course, recent theoretical trends have come to the aid of old orthodox instincts: what was once supported by conventional left dogma, that imperialism is the only source of problems in the Third World, is now compounded by post-modern feeble-mindedness, according to which those outside the Third World have no right to criticise those within it.23

In public Halliday appeared impervious to the intellectual and political battering he received, but the watershed of 1990–91 retrospectively confirmed his break with many of the shibboleths of the left, magnifying and refracting earlier arguments which had distanced him from former comrades in the early 1980s and informed his resignation from the editorial board of New Left Review in 1983.24

Thick skin and a striking lack of ego were coupled with an invariably generous respect for the ideas and scholarship of others. Pointedly, this generosity was frequently extended to those he had earlier learnt from, but with whom he disagreed politically. This is particularly evident in his dissection of the long-running debates on Orientalism. Halliday uses his keynote essay on the matter to pay extensive tributes to the scholarship of both E.W. Said and Bernard Lewis, before calmly delineating his disagreements with each. Notwithstanding Said and Lewis's theoretical differences, for Halliday both sets of protagonists in the debate over-prioritize ideology, discourse and culture, ‘For neither of them does the analysis of what actually happens in these societies, as distinct from what people say and write about them, let alone the difficulties and choices of emancipatory projects, come first’ (1996: 201).25 His criticism is preceded by a careful outlining of his own methodology, anchored firmly in a belief in the heuristic clarity of comparative methodology within social science drawn from Enlightenment values.

Institutional solidarity extended to publishers; I.B Tauris and Saqi were both products of the diasporic dislocation of the Middle East to west London. Both facilitated the exchange of ideas from the region with overseas audiences and ensured the translation and distribution of Halliday's own ideas within the Middle East itself, selling Arabic, Persian and Turkish translation and distribution rights, as well as promoting his works in media throughout the region.26

Between 1983 and his formal retirement in 2008, he invested considerable energies both in LSE as an institution, and in the consolidation of the academic study of International Relations as a discipline within comparative social science --- notably pioneering work on both gender in IR, and the study of revolutions.27 He was also instrumental in expanding the scope of LSE's remit, championing the establishment of the Development Studies Institute in 1991 and the Centre for the Study of Human Rights in 2000. Loyalty to LSE extended to securing substantial backing from Middle Eastern benefactors; often a time-consuming, fraught and frustrating process. In this he was guided by a combination of deep-rooted Middle Eastern contacts and a clear set of principles. Halliday had long experience of detecting and resisting the pressures wielded by lobbyists linked to British commercial interests in the Arab world. It was this experience which prompted him to criticize the decision to allow the Libyan dauphin, Saif al-Islam Qadaffi, to pursue a PhD in LSE. In September 2009, in one of the last documents he wrote before his final illness, he challenged the decision of LSE's governing Council to accept a donation from a fund controlled by Qadaffi. He argued, with characteristic reserve and clarity, that the reputational risk to the LSE of accepting such money was simply too great given the nature of Libya's government.28 Council overruled his reservations. On this, as so much else before it, he was proved right. Eleven months after his death, a firestorm over LSE's relations with the Qadaffis erupted. The school's Director resigned. PhD standards were tarnished. LSE launched an independent inquiry headed by Lord Woolf, against broader public disquiet about Arab donor influence in British Higher Education (Barnett, 2011; Woolf, 2011).

A more substantive aspect of Halliday's approach to solidarity was not institutional but above all intellectual. In the final decade of his life, he began, but did not complete, a major study into how and why notions of internationalism and solidarity had become divorced from a defence of intrinsic ‘rights’, rooted in and evolved from Enlightenment thought and practice. For Halliday, this trend was reflected in a broader crisis of universalism in the early twenty-first century. This was apparent both in the post-modern turn embraced by so many in academia, and more substantially in the failures of western socialist and liberal movements to seriously formulate what solidarity with peoples in other parts of the world might practically entail, if they were to be genuinely rooted in a universally shared conceptions of rights. In his principal published examination of these issues, he noted:

 … on the left, in the developed and third worlds, there is widespread disparagement of rights, either on the grounds that they reflect the values and pretexts of the imperialist and hegemonic countries or because, as if this is an argument in itself, they are a product of the oppressive, rationalist Enlightenment, this latter held as the source of most, or even all, of our current ills. The practical implications of this are manifold, from support for nationalist and culturally specific derogation from universal principles, to blind endorsement of guerrilla and armed groups even when they violate the conventions of war, to wholesale opposition to humanitarian intervention on the grounds that this only masks imperial interests. (Halliday, 2008a)29

For Halliday, this commitment to a rights-based internationalism had to rest on comprehensive — by which he meant ‘de-mythologized’— understandings of foreign societies and states:

One must express solidarity but also maintain a critical distance … [s]olidarity should be complex, not simple … . Solidarity should be critical of what people say and do, while also being guided by the longer-term evaluation of people's interests and rights and material social progress. It also involves knowing about these countries. In so much ‘solidarity’ work these days, people don't want to know what's actually going on in Third World countries. (quoted in Postel: 2010)

This notion of ‘complex solidarity’ rooted in a detailed, empathetic but critical engagement with other societies was central to Halliday's faith in a progressive, universal set of human values applicable to, and embraced by, all peoples and societies. As Howe (2010) pithily put it:

 … he never lost the commitment to modernity and liberal values in the way many on the left did. This was especially when they had to deal with the ‘third world’. A sort of inverted racism was practiced so that democracy was not natural to ‘those’ cultures and dictators were good as long as they spouted anti-western slogans.

As such, this formed part of his critique of national and religious thought via a re-evaluation of cosmopolitan and internationalism. Unfinished at his death, the consistency of his analysis, evident in almost all of his works published since the Myth of Confrontation in 1996, on both the (mis)use of political language on the one hand, and the evolution of competing notions of internationalism — and by extension solidarity — provides a fertile legacy for subsequent work in IR.30


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The political importance of language increasingly shaped Halliday's work in several distinct ways, particularly from 1990. Firstly and most obviously he had always seen a mastery of language as an essential prerequisite to understanding societies and their politics. His initial engagement with societies in the Middle East stemmed from youthful apprenticeships in both Arabic and Farsi. These in turn drew on his sound grounding in the classics and an early mastery of key European languages.31 A fascination for local vocabulary and the nuances of political translation, as well as local context, idiom and humour was a constant facet of his work.32 His voice and prose were also a near-constant presence in a wide variety of Arab and Persian print and broadcast media. This was above all due to his unerring ability to tailor analyses of complex political conjunctures and ideas into simple sentences.

A second aspect of his interest in language is reflected in his writings on the changing nature of language and its instrumental impact on politics, particularly vis-à-vis the Middle East. This concern was first made explicit in Two Hours that Shook the World (2002), his essays examining the causes and consequences of the 9/11 attacks, which was prefaced by a glossary of keywords and concepts. A lexigraphical approach was extended in 100 Myths About the Middle East published in 2005. This was an attempt to ‘question the historical accuracy of what is presented as the traditional and the authentic’ by dissecting and debunking received wisdom and concepts on the region (ibid.: 11). Finally, Shocked and Awed: How the War on Terror and Jihad have Changed the English Language, published posthumously in 2011, extended this forensic approach to the use and misuse of language across a broader canvas.

Taken together, Two Hours that Shook the World and Shocked and Awed remain among the most accessible and clear ways to understand the origins and significance of 9/11.33 They also go to the heart of Halliday's concerns about the role of public and academic intellectuals faced with a deterioration of public information and understandings of the Middle East and broader international affairs. Within academia, an aspect of this was his objection to post-modernism. As already noted, his criticisms were both methodological and political, but they also reflected something simpler, a deep distrust of linguistic obscurantism; for Halliday obfuscation in the use of language concealed manipulation and myth-making, which rational analysis expressed in clear prose should dispel.34

The centrality of Halliday's commitment to clear language was in part derived from Maxine Rodinson, the French Marxist orientalist whom he so much admired.35 It is no coincidence that Halliday closes his 2005 book on the Middle East and International Relations with a quote from Rodinson: ‘Firstly I appeal for your lucidity. Myths may be useful for certain mobilizations, but they end up by mystifying, blinding and misleading the very people who manipulate them. To retreat into myths, especially the use of the past to elucidate today's problems, is another sign of weakness’ (Rodinson, 1979: 160 quoted in Halliday, 2005a: 323).36


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Halliday formally retired from LSE in 2008, developing his fellowship on internationalism into a series of new projects in Barcelona where he joined the Institució Catalana de Recerca i Estudis Avançats (ICREA), becoming a research professor at the Institut Barcelona d’Estudis Internacionals (IBEI), perfecting his Spanish and rapidly acquiring Catalan.37

Probably more than any other figure who emerged from Europe's New Left, Halliday's life and work reflected the progressive evolution of rights-based internationalism, rooted in both a critique of capitalism and a belief in the emancipatory potentials of Enlightenment rationality and principles. In the introduction to the final book he worked on, he himself defined his work as ‘part of the broader challenge of our times, that of enabling people to comprehend, and hence in some measure better control, the events and world that surround them’ (2011c: xiv).

The agendas sketched by Halliday's own political trajectory are likely to remain pertinent for decades to come. In what has been termed an evolution from ‘revolutionary to liberal internationalism’, his work can be interpreted as having evolved via a progressive debunking of orthodox, anti-imperialist leftism in the 1970s to a world view and praxis of complex solidarity anchored in a belief in universal human rights. This shift occurred via constant reappraisal and critical assessment of his own and others’ past work against changing international realities, in order to arrive at a set of political positions which has been termed ‘an eclectic combination of radical liberalism with a residual historical materialism’ (Colas, 2011: 1065).

Halliday embodied an acutely critical commitment to comparative methodological awareness. This involved incessant questioning and oscillation, between real facts influencing the lives of individuals and social classes in the states of the south on the one hand, and broader theoretical concerns and heuristic frameworks on the other. These in turn are simultaneously anchored in an explicitly normative world-view rooted in shared universal values.38 He did this through incessant travel, both geographic and intellectual; always voyaging with an open mind, and above all listening to those he met. As one assessment put it: ‘He believed that theory had to relate to the world, and to the ideas and aspirations of actual people. Therefore the most important research method was speaking with people at all levels, from heads of government to peasants, doctors and rebels in distant provinces’ (Roberts, 2012: 26).

In both his empirical method — lifelong travel, activism and writing — and his impact on the public's understanding of foreign peoples and post-imperial politics, Halliday's legacies mirror those of Basil Davidson. The vagaries of death meant that while Davidson preceded Halliday by a full generation, the eminent Africanist scholar and activist died three months after Halliday. Their paths rarely crossed, but when in 1971 Davidson hosted Amilcar Cabral in London, Fred and Ruth First interviewed Cabral for Seven Days.39 Halliday perhaps took to heart Cabral's answer when they asked the charismatic African revolutionary what he thought of the significance of the New Left in Europe. Cabral laughed ‘you accuse us of tribal differences but the tribal differences among the anti-imperialist forces are even greater. We have the tribes of the New Left’.40

In what were to be his final years, between London and Barcelona, Fred Halliday remained as open to new conversations, languages and arguments as ever. As new books, a steady stream of openDemocracy essays, as well as regular columns in Barcelona's Vanguardia all testify, to the end his mind teemed with new projects and voyages; when he was asked which of his many homes and journeys was his favourite, his reply was unfailingly ‘the next one’.

  • 1

    For obituaries, see Barnett (2010), which includes an archive of testimonies; The Economist 6 May 2010; Owen (2010); Roberts (2012); Stork (2010); The Times 14 May 2010; Zubaida (2011).

  • 2

    See chapter two, The Middle East and International Relations (2005a).

  • 3

    Bibliographies of his key works in IR, including articles in International Affairs and Millennium, as well as his books Rethinking International Relations (1994) and Revolution and World Politics (1999a), are included in the critical assessments published in the special edition of International Affairs (2011).

  • 4

    His essay on ‘The Chimera of the “International University”’ (1999b) provides a concise exposition of these concerns.

  • 5
  • 6

    By 2010 these totalled over twenty-five books, many appearing in multiple editions and numerous translations, plus several hundred academic journal articles and chapters in edited works and many thousands of press articles and broadcasts spanning over four decades. Preparation of a comprehensive bibliography of Halliday's works is underway in the British Library of Economic and Political Science, which is also scheduled to house an archive of his research materials from 2013.

  • 7

    Entitled Britain's First Muslims: Portrait of an Arab Community (2010).

  • 8

    The Arc of Crisis and the New Cold War’ (1981), published in MERIP in late 1981, neatly encapsulates this period and style.

  • 9

    Defeat taught Halliday much about revolutionary and pan-Arab rhetoric, armed struggle and the political role of women. The prominent role that women played in PFLOAG and the nature of the rebels’ abject defeat are poignantly evoked in S. Ibrahim's novel Warda(2002).

  • 10

    See in particular chapter 3 ‘History and Modernity in the Formation of Nationalism: The Case of Yemen’, in Halliday (2000), and his analysis of the successive civil wars in Yemen (Halliday, 1995).

  • 11

    ‘The Fates of Monarchies in the Middle East’, in Halliday (2000).

  • 12

    The revised preface also appears in MERIP (1997).

  • 13

    In Postel (2010). See also Colas and Lawson (2010) for the enduring influence of Warren on his work.

  • 14

    A decade of teaching and journal articles on revolutions informed Revolution and World Politics: The Rise and Fall of the Sixth Great Power (1999a). See also Lawson (2011).

  • 15

    For Halliday's theorization of the Cold War, see both chapter 8 in Halliday (1994) and Saul (2011).

  • 16

    Strange and Halliday shared many affinities; both had extensive journalistic and think-tank experience prior to university employment; both prized clarity of expression while sharing an aversion to theory unanchored in changing realities. See ‘The Revenge of Ideas: Karl Polanyi and Susan Strange’, in Halliday (2011b); as well as ‘New World Orders’, his obituary of Susan Strange, The Guardian 14 November (1998a).

  • 17

    The intensity of work on both of these books, coupled with incessant media commentaries in late 2001, had incalculable personal consequences. Although dated 2002, Two Hours was released early in December 2001. Even by Halliday's own punishing pace of work, the pressures of late 2001 were excessive, triggering severe illness in 2002–03. Characteristically, he barely stopped writing, disarming friends and colleagues with discussion of his illness and returning to work in LSE, then Barcelona; five books and hundreds of articles followed. While his physical health never fully recovered, it was a swift and aggressive cancer which killed him in 2010.

  • 18

    He also had formative spells with two short-lived, post-1968 left-wing publications in London, Black Dwarf and Seven Days.

  • 19

    For his relationship with MERP, see Stork (2010).

  • 20

    Halliday encapsulated the violent, vituperative mood of the moment in New Statesman and Society 8 March 1991: ‘all the pressures of the conformist community have been brought to bear: a stream of abusive letters, character assassination and vulgar misinterpretation by old comrades ( … ) secure in their modish East Coast and Home Counties platitudes, the pied pipers of the ultra-left, the so-called Socialist Workers Party, stomping onto the campus to sneer at and “smash” me, and issuing disingenuous invitations to “debate”; Saturday vendors of sectarian papers shouting abuse in shopping arcades; charges of “selling-out” and so forth. I remain unmoved. Beyond the question of the Gulf war, this debate, if it can be characterised as such, involves more long-term issues of socialist politics and analysis’. On this, see also Dodge (2011), and Halliday's own summary in Bresheeth and Yuval-Davis (1991a).

  • 21

    In Bresheeth and Yuval-Davis (1991a: 273).

  • 22

    Op cit. See also ‘America and the Arab World After Saddam’ in Halliday (2011b).

  • 23

    In Bresheeth and Yuval-Davis (1991a: 275).

  • 24

    Halliday continued to write extensively for NLR after his departure; his 1984 critique of a review in NLR of his The Making of the Second Cold War (1983) underscores the differences between his and the New Left over anti-imperialism.

  • 25

    Chapter 7 in Halliday (1996). A version of this article appeared in 1993 in the British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 20(2): 145–63. Halliday further critiques the ‘Orientialism Debate’ in Postel (2005).

  • 26

    See ‘Feminism in the Modern Middle East’ in Halliday (2011b) for his fulsome tribute to Saqi founder Mai Ghoussoub.

  • 27

    Halliday also played significant roles in professional academic bodies, notably the British International Studies Association (BISA) and the British Society for the Study of the Middle East (BRISMES).

  • 28

    See ‘A State of Robbers: The Jamahiriya at 40’ in (2011b) for his 2009 analysis of Libya. The 188 page Woolf Inquiry, published in November 2011, was highly critical of the School; it dissects in detail the vested interests which led to Fred Halliday's arguments against acceptance of the grant being ignored, see in particular pp. 84--87.

  • 29

    A version also appears in Downes et al. (2007).

  • 30

    See Colas (2011) and Teschke (2011) for preliminary considerations of this in the special edition of International Affairs (2011).

  • 31

    Evident in his early edited translations of Korsch (1970) and Deutscher (1969).

  • 32

    As an obituary noted, Yemenis held him in deep respect not simply for his scholarship and friendship, but also for ‘his ability to tell jokes in the right Yemeni voice’. See British-Yemeni Society, Obituary

  • 33

    A fact highlighted in a recent academic review of the deluge of literature on terrorism, security and 9/11; see Dunne (2011: 966).

  • 34

    See ‘The Tallest Story: Post-modernism and the International’ in Rethinking International Relations (Halliday, 1994).

  • 35

    See ‘Maxine Rodinson: In Praise of a “Marginal Man” in Halliday (2011b).

  • 36

    See also Colas and Lawson (2010) for an overview of Rodinson's influence on Halliday.

  • 37

    ‘A Time in Barcelona’, the concluding essay in the posthumous collection of openDemocracy essays, (Halliday, 2011b). See also his 2008 keynote lecture, ‘The Mediterranean in an Age of Globalisation’ (2008b).

  • 38

    This case is made most eloquently in his essay ‘Morality in International Relations: A Case for Robust Universalism’ (1998b).

  • 39

    ‘We have Won the War’, interview with Cabral, Seven Days, 3 November 1971.

  • 40


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  • Barnett, A. (2010) ‘Tributes to Fred Halliday’, openDemocracy
  • Barnett, A. (2011) ‘Fred Halliday, David Held, the LSE and the Independence of Universities’, openDemocracy 31 March.
  • Colas, A. (2011) ‘Taking Sides: Cosmopolitanism, Internationalism and “Complex Solidarity” in the work of Fred Halliday’, International Affairs 87(5): 105165.
  • Colas, A. and G. Lawson (2010) ‘Fred Halliday: Achievements, Ambivalences and Openings’, Millennium – Journal of International Studies 39(2): 23558.
  • Deutscher, I. (1969) Russia, China and the West 1953–1966 (edited and trans. F. Halliday). Oxford : Oxford University Press.
  • Downes, D. et al. (eds) (2007) Crime, Social Control and Human Rights: From Moral Panics to States of Denial, Essays in Honour of Stanley Cohen. Cullompton : Willan Publishing.
  • Dunne, T. (2011) ‘9/11 and the Terrorism Industry’, International Affairs 87(4): 96573.
  • The Economist (2010) ‘Fred Halliday, Demystifier of the Middle East’, 6 May.
  • Halliday, F. (1971) ‘We have Won the War’, interview with Cabral, Seven Days, 3 November.
  • Halliday, F. (1974) Arabia without Sultans. Harmondsworth : Pelican.
  • Halliday, F. (1977) Mercenaries in the Persian Gulf: Counter Insurgency in Oman. Nottingham : Russell Press.
  • Halliday, F. (1979) Iran: Dictatorship and Development. Harmondsworth : Pelican .
  • Halliday, F. (1981) ‘The Arc of Crisis and the New Cold War’, Middle East Report 100/101: 1425.
  • Halliday, F. (1982) Threat from the East: Soviet Policy from Afghanistan and Iran to the Horn of Africa. Harmondsworth : Pelican.
  • Halliday, F. (1983) The Making of the Second Cold War. London : Verso.
  • Halliday, F. (1984) ‘The Conjuncture of the Seventies and After: A Reply to Ougaard’, New Left Review 1(147): 7683.
  • Halliday, F. (1989) Cold War, Third World. London : Radius.
  • Halliday, F. (1990) Revolution and Foreign Policy: The Case of South Yemen. Cambridge : Cambridge University Press.
  • Halliday, F. (1991a) ‘The Left and the War: Four Underlying Questions’, in N. Bresheeth and N. Yuval-Davis (eds) The Gulf War and the New World Order, pp. 27276. London : Zed Books.
  • Halliday, F. (1991b) ‘The Left and the War’, New Statesman and Society 8 March.
  • Halliday, F. (1994) Rethinking International Relations. London : Macmillan.
  • Halliday, F. (1995) ‘The Third Inter-Yemeni War and its Consequences’, Asian Affairs 26(2): 13440.
  • Halliday, F. (1996) Islam and the Myth of Confrontation. London : I.B. Tauris.
  • Halliday, F. (1997) ‘Arabia without Sultans Revisited’, Middle East Report 204: 2729.
  • Halliday, F. (1998a) ‘New World Orders’, The Guardian 14 November.
  • Halliday, F. (1998b) ‘Morality in International Relations: A Case for Robust Universalism’, in B. McSweeney (ed.) Moral Issues in International Affairs, pp. 1530. Basingstoke : Macmillan.
  • Halliday, F. (1999a) Revolution and World Politics: The Rise and Fall of the Sixth Great Power. London : Palgrave.
  • Halliday, F. (1999b) ‘The Chimera of the “International University”’,  International Affairs 75(1): 99120.
  • Halliday, F. (2000) Nation and Religion in the Middle East. London : Saqi.
  • Halliday, F. (2001) The World at 2000: Perils and Promises. London : Palgrave.
  • Halliday, F. (2002) Two Hours that Shook the World: September 11 2001, Causes and Consequences. London : Saqi.
  • Halliday, F. (2005a) The Middle East in International Relations: Power, Politics and Ideology. Cambridge : Cambridge University Press.
  • Halliday, F. (2005b) 100 Myths about the Middle East. London : Saqi.
  • Halliday, F. (2008a) The Fate of Solidarity: Uses and Abuses.
  • Halliday, F. (2008b) ‘The Mediterranean in an Age of Globalisation’. IBEI Working Papers.
  • Halliday, F. (2010) Britain's First Muslims: Portrait of an Arab Community. London : I.B.Tauris. 2nd edition, original title Arabs in Exile (1992).
  • Halliday, F. (2011a) Caamano in London: The Exile of a Latin American Revolutionary. London : Institute for the Study of the Americas, University of London.
  • Halliday, F. (2011b) Political Journeys: The openDemocracy Essays. Saqi : London.
  • Halliday, F. (2011c) Shocked and Awed: How the War on Terror and Jihad have Changed the English Language. London : I.B.Tauris.
  • Halliday, F. and M. Molyneux (1981) The Ethiopian Revolution. London : Verso.
  • Hirst, P. and G. Thompson (1999) Globalisation in Question. Cambridge : Polity Press.
  • Howe, S. (1994) ‘The Interpreter: Basil Davidson as Public Intellectual’, Race and Class 36(2): 1943.
  • Howe, S. (2010) ‘Son of the Bani Tanwir: The Work of Fred Halliday’.
  • Ibrahim, S. (2002) Warda. Paris : Acts Sud.
  • International Affairs (2011) Special Issue 87(5). London : Chatham House.
  • Korsch, K. (1970) Marxism and Philosophy. London : NLB (trans. F. Halliday).
  • Lawson, G. (2011) ‘Halliday's Revenge: Revolutions and International Relations’, International Affairs 87(5): 106785.
  • Miller, R. (ed.) (2007) Ireland and the Middle East. Dublin : Irish Academic Press. (Foreword by Fred Halliday).
  • Owen, R. (2010) ‘Fred Halliday, 1946–2010’, History Workshop Journal 70(1): 31013.
  • Postel, D. (2010) ‘Who is Responsible? An Interview with Fred Halliday’, openDemocracy 29 April.
  • Roberts, A. (2012) ‘Fred Halliday – 1946–2010’, in Proceedings of the British Academy; Biographical Memoirs of Fellows. London : British Academy.
  • Rodinson, M. (1979)Marxism and the Muslim World. New York : Monthly Review Press.
  • Saull, R. (2011) ‘Social Conflict and the Global Cold War’, International Affairs 87(5): 112340.
  • Stork, J. (2010) ‘Fred Halliday’, Middle East Report 255.
  • Teschke, B. (2011) ‘Openings and Impasses in International Historical Sociology: Fred Halliday and His Legacy’, International Affairs 87(5): 1087106.
  • The Times (2010) ‘Fred Halliday: Scholar of International Relations’, 14 May.
  • Woolf, L. (2011) ‘The Woolf Inquiry: An Inquiry into the LSE's Links with Libya and the Lessons to be Learned’. London School of Economics.
  • Zubaida, S. (2010) ‘Fred Halliday: International Relations Scholar and Expert on the Middle East’, The Guardian 26 April.