The Jordanian Throne: Between Risk Management and the Consolidation of Legitimacy in a Turbulent Regional Context
His Majesty King Abdullah II’s Throne Speech comes at a politically delicate moment—both domestically and regionally—where internal Jordanian transformations intersect with a region in turmoil. At a time when political and economic reform challenges intensify amid growing social and livelihood pressures, the speech transcends its formal constitutional role of inaugurating a parliamentary session. It becomes instead a mirror of the state’s grand strategy—a document articulating the regime’s priorities, the direction of governance, and the approach to risk management and stability preservation.
Between its lines, the speech carries dual messages: one of domestic reassurance and another of external affirmation of Jordan’s balanced and rational role within the region. The King speaks in a firm, nationalistic tone that redefines the concept of “the nation” as an entity resilient against adversity. Through the repeated use of the collective pronoun (“we,” “our responsibility”), he renews the symbolic social contract between the state and its citizens. Thus, the Throne Speech moves beyond a ceremonial constitutional address to become a political declaration that frames Jordan’s next phase of modernization amid persistent pressures.
His Majesty King Abdullah II’s Throne Speech comes at a politically delicate moment, both domestically and regionally—one in which Jordan’s internal transformations intersect with an increasingly volatile regional landscape.
Positioning the Speech in Its Moment: Why Now?
The Throne Speech comes at a juncture where domestic and regional pressures converge, and where the threads of the Middle East’s political crises intertwine with Jordan’s own structural challenges. It is a speech born of a complex context—one in which regional dynamics, societal expectations, and national security concerns are deeply interwoven.
At the regional level, the address coincides with an unprecedented escalation in the Palestinian–Israeli conflict. Gaza has become both a humanitarian and political symbol that tests the conscience of the world, while intensifying violations in the West Bank and Jerusalem are reshaping the regional security agenda and placing Jordan in an exceptionally sensitive position. The Kingdom is not merely a geographical neighbor of Palestine, but a historical and moral stakeholder in its political and symbolic equation. With the Hashemite Custodianship over the Islamic and Christian holy sites, and the deep emotional and social bonds that tie the two banks of the Jordan River, the Kingdom faces a dual responsibility: to uphold its principled stance on justice and dignity, and to shield its domestic stability from the reverberations of regional turmoil. Hence, the royal address adopts a dual tone—combining moral firmness with pragmatic realism—to reaffirm that “the Jordanian position is steadfast and unyielding.”
At the domestic level, the speech comes at a politically sensitive moment marked by the advancement of the “Political and Economic Modernization Vision,” which has been the cornerstone of the King’s reform agenda over the past four years. Yet, this ambitious vision faces a difficult socioeconomic reality: high unemployment, mounting cost-of-living pressures, and persistent challenges in administrative efficiency and public service delivery. Consequently, the speech assumes a mobilizational and motivational function, redirecting the national conversation toward “work and discipline” as prerequisites for reform. The central phrase—“We do not have the luxury of time”—encapsulates the philosophy of this phase, in which time itself becomes a scarce national resource. The message is clear: hesitation is a liability, and progress requires collective commitment—from the bureaucracy and society alike—to a culture of achievement rather than anticipation.
The Kingdom is not merely a geographical neighbor of Palestine, but a historical and symbolic actor embedded in its political equation.
From a security standpoint, the discourse expands the notion of security beyond its conventional military definition. While Jordan faces border challenges with Syria and Iraq, smuggling phenomena are simultaneously on the rise, and waves of regional instability are unfolding with unpredictable trajectories. Yet, the discourse does not approach security through the language of anxiety, but rather through that of confidence. The invocation of the Arab Army and expressions such as “the men of Hussein’s foundry, a formidable shield” reconstruct the relationship between the military institution and society as one of mutual belonging and protection.
These three spheres—the regional, the domestic, and the security—converge in a critical moment that shapes the contours of a new phase. The discourse is not aimed merely at rhetorical appeasement; instead, it seeks to reorder the priorities of the Jordanian state amid a tense regional environment and a society demanding tangible outcomes.
Analytical Framework: Discourse as a Tool of Governance
The Throne Speech transcends its formal and political function as a statement addressed to Parliament or public opinion; it operates as a tool of governance and a means of managing the public sphere during a moment of dual transformation—internally toward modernization and regionally toward adaptation to a shifting security environment. From the perspective of Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA) as articulated by Norman Fairclough, the royal text can be read across three interrelated levels: the textual level, encompassing vocabulary, syntax, and linguistic meaning; the discursive practice level, concerned with how the discourse is produced and received within an institutional and symbolic framework; and the socio-political context, which gives the text its meaning and defines its function. These levels are not understood in isolation but operate as complementary lenses for unpacking the relationship between language, power, and knowledge.
At the textual level, it is evident that the discourse employs a lexicon saturated with terms of duty, discipline, and necessity, replacing justificatory language with one of resolve. The text allows no space for emotional descriptions or circumstantial excuses; instead, it maintains a steady focus on action and directive imperatives: “We must rise,” “We must persist,” “We do not have the luxury of time.” Such repetitions are not coincidental but form part of what Fairclough calls “linguistic strategies of soft hegemony,” wherein language is used to generate voluntary alignment with the aims of authority through a discourse of shared responsibility. Rather than issuing orders from above, the speech redistributes them linguistically so that they appear as a collective duty shared by all.
Language is thus employed to generate voluntary alignment with the objectives of authority through a discourse of shared responsibility.
At the level of discursive practice, the speech is delivered within a constitutional occasion that represents the pinnacle of symbolism in Jordan’s political life: the opening of the parliamentary session. This occasion is not a mere procedural formality, but an institutional space where legitimacy is renewed and the continuity of the political contract between leadership, state, and society is reaffirmed. In this context, the King’s linguistic performance itself becomes part of the act of governance, as it reconstitutes the balance between the constitution as a formal framework and political will as a guiding force. The speech does not merely explain politics—it produces it. It positions Parliament as a body entrusted with responsibility, the people as partners, and the state as a moral actor committed to reform without hesitation or complacency.
At the level of social and political context, the environment in which the discourse is produced is marked by overlapping economic, social, and political crises. In such a context, language becomes a tool for stabilizing society by redefining collective anxiety. The King acknowledges that he is “worried,” but he delineates the type of acceptable worry: a productive concern, not a paralyzing fear. Through this brief statement, the national mood is recalibrated, and anxiety is normalized as a motive for action rather than a symptom of weakness. This rhetorical move becomes a mechanism of governance in its own right, as it shapes how citizens conceptualize time and the future.
From a Foucauldian perspective, discourse in such moments is not merely a medium for expressing power but one of its very instruments. In Michel Foucault’s view, power is not exercised primarily through coercion but through the subtle reshaping of individuals’ consciousness regarding notions such as time, duty, and public behavior. Within this framework, the royal discourse emerges as a mechanism of modern governmentality—a system that governs populations through meanings rather than commands. When temporal expressions like “time is not on our side” and “we must persist” recur, time itself is transformed into a form of authority parallel to the law, generating a collective sense of urgency and responsibility. This discursive technique produces voluntary obedience because it persuades citizens that discipline is not an imposition from above but a natural response to an objective necessity.
This analysis reveals that the royal discourse performs two complementary functions. The first is symbolic, reaffirming the legitimacy of the political order through the language of national sentiment and shared history. The second is organizational, deploying values and concepts to manage collective behavior and direct it toward state priorities. In this sense, the royal speech becomes a comprehensive instrument of governance that fuses symbolism with policy, language with administration, and hegemony with persuasion. It exemplifies what political theory terms “leadership through discourse”—a model in which authority is exercised not only through decisions, but also through the power to define what is possible, what is necessary, and what must wait.
Time is transformed into an authority parallel to the law, generating a collective sense of urgency and responsibility.
It must be noted that, from a pragmatic perspective, the King’s success in shifting from a language of command to one of participation does not eliminate the need for an institutional mechanism capable of translating participation into decision-making—that is, the development of permanent channels for dialogue and accountability to ensure that “voluntary obedience” evolves into “active citizenship.”
The Pragmatic Structure: From “I, the King” to “We, the State”
The Throne Speech is founded upon a carefully designed pragmatic transformation in its linguistic structure, wherein the speaker moves deliberately from the individual pronoun to the collective one—a semantic shift that redefines the relationship between leadership, people, and state. The speech begins with a deeply human moment encapsulated in the phrase “the King is worried,” drawing the monarch out of the sphere of distant sanctity into that of emotional participation. Yet this worry is not presented as a sign of weakness but as an entry point for building trust: “Yes, the King worries, but he fears none but God, and with every Jordanian at his back, he fears nothing else.” Here, worry is redefined as a responsible act of leadership, transformed from a personal emotion into a collective mobilizing energy. This dual rhetorical construction moves the discourse from the pronoun of “I” to “we,” and from individual authority to the spirit of the state—thus redistributing power across the national space.
This pragmatic shift embodies both a linguistic and a political strategy. The collective pronoun is not used as rhetorical ornamentation but as a means of generating what can be termed “emotional legitimacy”—a legitimacy derived not solely from constitutional texts or material achievements but from the citizen’s felt sense of belonging to decision and destiny alike. The phrase “with every Jordanian at his back” is not a mere metaphor; it articulates a reciprocal identity: the leader derives his strength from his people, and the people find in the King the embodiment of their national will. In this way, the logic of loyalty is replaced with that of partnership—a qualitative shift in the discourse of the modern state, which no longer views the citizen as a passive recipient of policy but as an active participant in its making.
From the standpoint of political discourse analysis, this transformation in pronouns fulfills two clear pragmatic functions. The first is the universalization of responsibility, whereby phrases such as “We must rise” and “We must continue” translate into a collective call to shoulder the national burden. The second is the deconstruction of hierarchical distance between leadership and elected institutions. When the King addresses Parliament by saying, “This Assembly bears the responsibility of following up on what has been achieved in the modernization process,” he does not issue directives from a position of unilateral power; rather, he situates Parliament as an active agent within a broader architecture of policy production. Through this calm, commissioning language, Parliament is repositioned from a formal entity into a participatory executive arm, accountable not to the Palace but to the nation.
At this level, the discourse does not merely present a refined linguistic formulation—it constructs a new symbolic architecture for the relationship between the state and its citizens. “I, the King” is no longer an absolute center of decision-making, but rather a point of departure toward “We, the State,” a collective defined by shared values: faith in God, loyalty to the homeland, and commitment to the common good. This pragmatic shift forms the core of contemporary royal rhetoric, wherein authority is rewritten in the language of closeness, and leadership is reframed as a collective endeavor that can only be realized through citizen partnership.
Herein lies the political strength of the discourse: its ability to transform language into a symbolic contract that regenerates trust and turns belonging from a sentimental attachment into a shared responsibility toward the state and its destiny.
Nonetheless, the “discourse of human concern” intelligently adopted by the King, while enhancing his proximity to the people, carries a potential risk: the substitution of emotion for policy, should it not be accompanied by governmental performance that matches this empathy with results and measurable outcomes. It is therefore recommended that the state deepen this transition from “I” to “we” in its future discourse through expanded political and media participation, and by engaging civil society in the decision-making process—moving from symbolism to genuine, institutionalized practice.
Dominant Semantic Fields
The Hashemite Custodianship grants Jordan a moral legitimacy within the Arab political order.
The royal discourse reveals a coherent semantic structure built upon three interrelated clusters of vocabulary that recur and reinforce one another, together forming the underlying political and ideological framework of the text. These clusters are not mere collections of words; they are conceptual pillars that define the identity of the discourse and its function in producing legitimacy, rearticulating the relationship between the state and its citizens, and shaping its regional role.
The first cluster revolves around homeland – Jordanian – army, representing the foundation of internal legitimacy. Here, the homeland is not portrayed as an administrative or geographical entity, but as a collective idea that transcends politics to touch emotional and symbolic dimensions. The Jordanian citizen in this discourse is not a passive recipient of public policies, but an active partner in shaping them — the first guardian of the state’s dignity and image. The army, in turn, is presented as the highest embodiment of this triadic relationship, serving as the shield and bulwark of the nation. The invocation of the army in a domestic political speech is not a symbolic detail but a reaffirmation of the notion of “security as identity,” where national security is redefined as a relationship between state and citizen based on trust, discipline, and belonging. Phrases such as “men of Al-Hussein’s factory” and “a majestic shield” do not merely describe a military institution; they evoke a national value system that renders the army a symbol of continuity in a turbulent world. Within this semantic field, the citizen, the army, and the homeland merge into a single triangle that reproduces the image of Jordan as a cohesive state despite crises — a polity where strength derives from ethics, not coercion.
The second cluster centers on reform – modernization – work, forming the discourse’s future-oriented dimension. Reform, in this context, is no longer a political slogan raised in response to internal or external pressures; it has become a comprehensive national project presented as a collective duty. The discourse reveals a clear strategy of shifting reform from being an elite demand to becoming a civic responsibility. When the King speaks of improving education, healthcare, transportation, and the public sector, the language addresses not only ministers but citizens — calling on them to be participants, not spectators, in the modernization process. In this sense, the discourse redefines the relationship between state and society around a new social contract: a mutual commitment whereby the state guarantees a developmental environment and dignified living conditions, while citizens commit to participation, discipline, and productivity. Modernization is thus presented not as a government policy but as a national philosophy — one that transfers reform from offices to streets, homes, and schools. It is also a tool to rebuild trust between authority and society through the promise that the fruits of modernization will benefit ordinary people, not just elites.
The third cluster is composed of Gaza – the West Bank – Jerusalem – guardianship, forming the regional extension of Jordanian legitimacy. At this level, the discourse ties the national interior to Jordan’s historic and religious regional role, reminding both domestic and external audiences that the Kingdom’s identity is not self-contained but deeply rooted in its Arab and Islamic mission. The defense of Jerusalem is portrayed not as a diplomatic duty but as part of Jordan’s identity, where the Hashemite custodianship over the holy sites intertwines with notions of honor, dignity, and historical responsibility. Gaza, meanwhile, becomes in the discourse a moral mirror in which both humanity and politics are tested, as the King affirms that “Jordan will stand with the people of Gaza with all its capabilities.” This language transcends humanitarian solidarity to establish Jordan’s position as the bearer of moral legitimacy within the Arab system — a subtle yet influential form of legitimacy that enables the Kingdom to act as a trusted mediator and custodian of values and sanctities in a region where power increasingly displaces ethics. Through this linguistic formation, the regional field becomes an extension of the national one: just as the army protects the homeland’s borders, the Hashemite guardianship protects the symbolic borders of identity and dignity in the region.
These three semantic fields interact to form a coherent grand narrative. The homeland and the army provide the realistic foundation of legitimacy; reform and modernization grant it a forward-looking dimension; and Jerusalem and Gaza endow it with a cross-border symbolic depth. Thus, the image of Jordan is reconstructed as a state grounded in three pillars: the strength of belonging, the dynamism of modernization, and the depth of mission. In this sense, vocabulary in the royal discourse functions not merely as a communicative tool but as a means of producing political meaning and reaffirming Jordan’s place within a complex domestic and regional equation.
The Political Economy of the Discourse
The royal discourse articulates a delicate equation that balances promises of development with a rhetoric of discipline — a calculated equilibrium reflecting the governing philosophy of the Jordanian state in the current phase. While the King speaks of growth, investment, and job creation, these promises are accompanied by a clear warning against complacency and delays in implementation. This combination of hope and admonition embodies what can be termed a “symbolic exchange” within Jordan’s political economy: the state promises development, and the citizen reciprocates with work and discipline. This exchange is not a slogan but the essence of governance in a context of scarce resources and immense challenges, where social stability becomes a precondition for development, and relative popular consent a prerequisite for sustainable reform.
Through this balance, the discourse succeeds in transforming reform from the language of numbers to the language of values. The King’s choice of words — such as duty, resolve, and commitment — converts public policy into moral imperatives. Improving education or developing transportation is no longer seen as an administrative project, but as a collective mission shared by the state and society. In this sense, the discourse performs a dual function: it legitimizes economic decisions while simultaneously framing them in ethical terms. Reform here is not merely a technical demand but a test of national conscience.
Reform as a Test of the National Conscience
In the background of this discourse lies a profound awareness of the particularities of the Jordanian economy—one that neither enjoys the luxury of rapid prosperity nor the abundance of resources, but instead relies on what may be termed an “economy of trust.” This denotes the cultivation of confidence between citizen and state as the most valuable form of capital. Hence, the call for work and discipline is not merely a moral exhortation; it is a mechanism for preserving the social balance that allows the economy to endure amid limited resources and fluctuating external support. In this sense, the discourse reconstructs the political–economic equation around the idea of justice in effort rather than justice in outcome—that is, participation in reform becomes itself an expression of national belonging.
Governing Rhetorical Strategies
An analysis of the deep structure of the royal discourse reveals a set of governing rhetorical strategies that regulate the rhythm of the text and endow it with persuasive power. These strategies are not simply linguistic devices; they are integral components of the architecture of governance, where language intersects with authority and politics.
The first of these strategies is the moral valorization of the citizen. The discourse consistently portrays the Jordanian citizen as diligent, educated, productive, and morally upright. This repeated glorification raises the ethical cost of opposing reform: a citizen praised as the “guardian of the homeland” and “the one who sowed and fed” cannot easily stand against state policies without appearing to betray the noble image ascribed to him. It is a sophisticated rhetorical formula that produces a symbolic alignment between the ideal citizen and governmental policies, thereby creating a moral constituency for reform. Yet, this valorization also carries a potential drawback, as it elevates public expectations of the state and turns the citizen into an almost unattainable ideal—an image that, if not matched by tangible improvement in living conditions, could give rise to disappointment and disillusionment.
Reform, Patience, and Continuity — The Triad of Jordanian Governance
The second strategy is the fencing of time — the transformation of time into a scarce political resource that cannot be wasted. Phrases such as “we do not have the luxury of time” perform a dual function: they motivate officials to act swiftly while simultaneously justifying administrative acceleration and the passing of difficult decisions under the banner of national urgency. This temporal language produces a form of institutionalized urgency, whereby the speed of reform itself becomes a measure of patriotism. However, this approach can later undermine institutional capacity for long-term planning and create a sense of constant pressure within both the citizenry and the bureaucracy.
The third strategy is external moral deterrence — the Jordanian political instrument for managing regional crises. Instead of military deterrence, the discourse relies on moral deterrence rooted in steadfastness and a historical sense of duty toward Palestine and Jerusalem. This approach grants Jordan soft power and positions it as a moral mediator in the region. Yet, its limitation lies in the modest practical impact of values alone; moral conviction by itself cannot deter, and some regional actors may regard it as “a discourse without instruments.” This places a continual burden on Jordan to maintain equilibrium between principle and capability.
Another key rhetorical mechanism is the construction of composite legitimacy. The discourse blends religious legitimacy, embodied in the Hashemite custodianship of the holy sites; historical legitimacy, grounded in the legacy of the Great Arab Revolt; and modern social legitimacy, derived from youth, the army, and education. This synthesis provides the political system with multidimensional depth and regenerates national consensus through renewed sources of trust. Yet, multiplicity in legitimacy can become a liability if not translated into coherent performance: diversity in symbols requires harmony in policy, otherwise legitimacy risks fragmenting into rhetorical plurality without directional unity.
Finally, the management of tensions emerges as one of the most prominent tools of the discourse. The King integrates service-related sectors—education, health, and transport—into the core of political speech, using them as domains for absorbing the pressure generated by political and economic reform. When citizens feel the limited immediate impact of political reform, tangible improvements in services provide perceptible signs of progress. This represents a strategy of symbolic compensation, redirecting public attention from political demands to everyday service achievements. Yet, the inherent risk lies in its sustainability: if not accompanied by real outcomes, it can produce the opposite effect—collective frustration and erosion of trust in reform promises. The success of this approach thus depends on the government’s ability to deliver concrete, measurable service improvements. While integrating service files as compensatory tools for political reform is an intelligent move, it can also become a mechanism for postponing structural change if not translated into genuine enhancements in living standards.
Foundational Dualities of Meaning
The royal discourse rests on a network of semantic dualities that generate its meaning and define its worldview. The first of these is anxiety versus fear. The King declares that he “worries” but “fears only God.” In this phrasing, anxiety is elevated to the status of a leadership virtue, while fear is removed from the sphere of politics. Anxiety here becomes a sign of responsibility, not weakness; through this language, the leader is portrayed as a human being who thinks and feels awe but does not crumble. It is an empathetic formulation that restores humanity to leadership while simultaneously bestowing upon it spiritual resilience.
The second duality is crisis versus fate. The discourse asserts that “crises have accompanied Jordan since its beginnings,” a phrase with profound philosophical resonance. It transforms crisis from an exceptional condition into a constitutive element of national identity. This approach grants Jordanians a symbolic strength of endurance, yet it simultaneously risks normalizing crisis — making hardship seem an ordinary, unprovocative condition. Here lies the paradox: the discourse that seeks to mobilize resilience may, at a subconscious level, reinforce the idea that crises are a form of destiny that cannot be entirely overcome.
The third duality is the internal versus the external. The speech delineates responsibilities with notable precision: safeguarding the internal realm is achieved through reform and modernization, while protecting the external domain is pursued through diplomacy and custodianship. This division creates interlocking spheres of sovereignty — the state operates simultaneously on two fronts: the front of the citizen and that of the region. The challenge, however, lies in reconciling these two domains, for excessive emphasis on external issues (such as the Palestinian cause or the Hashemite custodianship) may at times be perceived as compensating for stagnation in domestic reform — and vice versa.
Nevertheless, the gradual transition from polar dualities to an integrative narrative underscores the evolving maturity of the discourse. It highlights the dynamic interconnections between national identity and regional role, between crisis and opportunity, allowing the discourse to reflect a more nuanced and realistic understanding of the complex relations that shape the Jordanian state’s trajectory.
Conclusion
From an analytical perspective, the royal discourse encapsulates the philosophy of Jordanian governance in three words: reform, patience, and continuity. Reform is the instrument of survival; patience is the condition for success; and continuity is the safeguard against collapse. Yet, this triad is not without its challenges. The absence of detailed timelines and actionable policy frameworks complicates the task of follow-up and accountability, while an overreliance on moral rhetoric may not suffice to persuade a generation seeking tangible outcomes rather than reiterated promises.
Still, the strength of the discourse lies in the clarity of its direction and its alignment with the prevailing national mood — a spirit of resolve that perceives crisis as opportunity and pressure as a test of endurance. The speech thus reaffirms Jordan’s self-image as a rational state within a turbulent region, and as a leadership that strives to balance moral duty with pragmatic interest.
If this discourse has succeeded in restoring symbolic trust between state and society, the forthcoming challenge is to translate that symbolism into daily institutional practice — to make reform an ingrained behavior rather than a national slogan, and to transform royal messages into measurable policies with visible results.
Ultimately, the Throne Speech, in both form and substance, is more than a ceremonial opening of a parliamentary session; it is a strategic declaration that Jordan is committed to modernization without compromising stability. The country’s true strength, the discourse insists, lies not in the abundance of material resources but in the possession of awareness and will. This, in the end, is the enduring Jordanian equation renewed in every speech — a small nation in geography, vast in meaning; steadfast amid storms; and steadily advancing, with confidence, toward the future.
