Samir Al-Rifai’s Resignation: The Unspoken Dimensions of the Discourse

At first glance, Samir Al-Rifai’s resignation letter (from the Sente Council) appears to be a conventional text within the traditions of the Jordanian state: a language of loyalty, a discourse of gratitude, references to the Hashemite leadership, and a courteous request for the acceptance of his resignation from the Senate. Yet a deeper reading suggests hidden layers and meanings that do not appear explicitly in the text itself. As the late political scientist Hamid Rabie argued, there is always “the unspoken” within any text.
This article approaches Al-Rifai’s letter through one of the most influential theories Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA), specifically Norman Fairclough’s framework. The aim is to move beyond the surface of language and examine the deeper structure produced by the text: How does it redefine the political act? How does it regulate the interpretation of resignation? And what does the text communicate through what it leaves unsaid?
Fairclough’s approach operates on three interconnected levels: the text, discursive practice, and social practice. Through these three dimensions, Al-Rifai’s letter can be read not merely as a resignation request but as a conscious attempt to produce an organized political meaning for his departure from office. The resignation is presented not as the result of disagreement, marginalization, or political divergence, but is morally reframed as a “returning of the trust at its proper time.” This key phrase transfers the event from the realm of politics into the realm of ethics. Departure is thus constructed as an act of fidelity and responsibility rather than withdrawal, exclusion, or protest.
In this sense, the discourse performs a process of reframing the event before political and media interpretations can take hold. This may well constitute one of the letter’s less visible functions.
At the textual level, several recurring concepts dominate the letter: trust, loyalty, service, soldierhood, covenant, duty, leadership, and the Hashemite path. These belong to a deeply rooted Jordanian political lexicon that associates legitimacy with service, loyalty, and continuity rather than competition, conflict, or political disagreement.
This appears to be the position in which Al-Rifai deliberately situates himself during this transitional and potentially defining moment in his political career. In framing both the resignation and its underlying causes, he does not present himself as a politician with a distinct political project, nor as the chairman of a royal committee that oversaw one of the state’s most sensitive reform files. Instead, he portrays himself as a “loyal soldier,” a devoted servant of state institutions, and someone who remains “at the service of His Majesty.”
Within this framework, the political self is reconstructed as a faithful subordinate rather than an autonomous political actor with an independent agenda or the representative of a particular political force or ideological vision. This is a significant discursive strategy because it minimizes any perception of confrontation with the state, the institutions, or the King, while simultaneously reintegrating the act of departure into a broader narrative of loyalty.
The significance of the text lies in the tension between presence and absence. The letter says much about loyalty, yet almost nothing about politics. Here lies the central point.
There is no direct explanation for the resignation, no reference to disagreements regarding the trajectory of political modernization, no mention of feelings of marginalization, nor any indication of institutional resistance to the recommendations of the Royal Committee on Political Modernization. This silence is not merely an absence; it is itself part of the discourse.
According to Fairclough, absence may sometimes be more revealing than presence because what remains unsaid often exposes the limits of what can be said within a particular structure of power. When political disagreement disappears from a political text, the implication is not that disagreement does not exist, but rather that the text seeks to contain it within a language of reverence and loyalty. In doing so, it also reinforces a specific political identity—one that the sender may fear has become the subject of doubt, ambiguity, or contestation.
From this perspective, the letter resembles a carefully managed discourse of exit more than a routine resignation statement. Given Al-Rifai’s deep proximity to the monarchy and his family’s historic association with both the state and the throne, any departure from official office cannot be read merely as a personal decision. Rather, it inevitably signals movement within the political elite itself.
Al-Rifai does not state that he is leaving because his political project has stalled, because political modernization has entered a phase of revision or slowdown, or because his standing within the elite has changed. Instead, he writes that “returning the trust at its proper time is part of being faithful to it.”
This phrase performs two functions simultaneously. The first is justificatory: it provides the resignation with a noble ethical rationale. The second is suggestive: it implies that a particular moment has arrived at which responsibility ought to be handed over.
The critical question then becomes: Who determines the “proper time” for returning the trust? Is it purely a matter of personal choice, or is it the result of shifting balances of influence and power within the state?
The significance of the letter deepens when Al-Rifai invokes his experience as chairman of the Royal Committee on Political Modernization. This reference is not incidental. Rather, he links it directly to the ideas of generational renewal and the circulation of leadership.
In doing so, he seeks to connect his resignation to the modernization project itself. In other words, Al-Rifai does not leave the scene as someone adversely affected by the outcomes of modernization, but as someone embodying its values: renewal, circulation of elites, opening space for others, and generational succession.
Yet despite the sophistication of this framing, it cannot entirely obscure another question: Is the invocation of modernization here a defense of the reform trajectory that Al-Rifai helped shape against those seeking to slow it down or reinterpret it? Is “making room for others” a voluntary expression of conviction, or a softer vocabulary for describing political marginalization?
At the level of discursive practice, the letter is formally addressed to the King. In reality, however, it is directed toward a much broader audience: the Royal Court, state institutions, the political elite, public opinion, and perhaps even those who disagreed with Al-Rifai over the direction of political modernization.
The text therefore performs a dual function. On the one hand, it affirms that Al-Rifai’s relationship with the leadership remains intact and that his departure entails neither rebellion nor public dissent. On the other hand, it secures for him a political and moral position within the official narrative: a statesman who served for four decades, led a major reform initiative, and departed in the language of loyalty rather than confrontation.
At the level of social practice, the letter reveals an important characteristic of politics in the Jordanian context. Major disagreements are rarely managed through open confrontation. Instead, they are mediated through symbols, signals, and disciplined language—particularly within the circles of the political elite and the institutions of the regime.
Political discourse, in this context, seeks to marginalize narratives of conflict in favor of a discourse of loyalty to the King as the ultimate point of reference and legitimacy.
The conclusion, therefore, is that Al-Rifai’s letter performs what Fairclough would describe as a discursive production of legitimacy and meaning. It explains the resignation while simultaneously controlling its interpretation. It transforms departure into a virtue and reconstructs Al-Rifai’s political biography according to the meanings he wishes to foreground rather than those that critics or opportunists might impose upon the event.
The underlying message is clear: he remains a man from within the establishment, not outside it; close to the monarchy, not opposed to it; a participant in the modernization project, even if its outcomes have evolved in directions beyond his control; and a loyal soldier who leaves the office without abandoning the covenant
