[Foreign Affairs] No Middle Road

The Arab Middle Classes' Moral Dilemma

By Tarek Osman

AUGUST 21, 2014

The violence gripping the Middle East has distracted the world from the seismic changes transforming almost all large Arab societies. These changes will confront the Arab middle classes with difficult choices and shape the future of the region.

This tipping point arises out of a relatively subtle shift in the governments' economic policies. In the past two years, several North African, eastern Mediterranean, and Persian Gulf countries have started to restructure their public sector compensation systems, curtail the welfare programs they introduced in 2011 (the height of the Arab uprisings), impose new direct and indirect taxes, and reduce their energy subsidies.

These changes will bring substantial economic pain to Arab societies. The most vulnerable social group, the poor, will likely try to fight back, through strikes and demonstrations. In response, the region’s regimes might attempt to rally their electorate with nationalistic rhetoric and by painting themselves as saviors pursuing tough but necessary measures. Before too long, many of these regimes will also resort to political repression against activists and groups that challenge their policies.

The resulting upheaval will force the Arab middle classes to take a stance. The more educated and mostly urban members of this group will generally benefit from the new reforms, which will improve their countries’ fiscal and monetary positions. As a result, large sections of the Arab middle classes might be tempted to back the state. They might also see the ruling regimes as necessary bulwarks against the violence and chaos that ensnarl much of the Middle East.

But the middle class can hardly ensure its security and good fortune in the long term by unconditionally casting its lot with the ruling elites. Gradually, the erosion of political and civil rights will breed resentment among key social groups: the poor, the civil society, and young, economically marginalized Arabs. Eventually -- sparked by some new social, economic, or political black swan -- that anger will erupt in a new wave of Arab uprisings. It will sweep seemingly stable Arab countries and unleash yet another cycle of uncertainty and violence.

The Arab middle classes thus face a moral dilemma. With their position of inaction, cowed by their fear of disorder, terrorism, and religious extremism, they have effectively condoned authoritarian renewal in the Arab world. Yet their moral imperative is to stand up for democracy even if it might jeopardize their economic and social standing. 

HANGING IN THE BALANCE

To build better futures, the Arab middle classes must confront several challenges. First, excessive concentration of power in most Arab countries, compounded by corruption, will make it extremely difficult for them to ensure a fair design of reforms. Across the region, state institutions are closely tied to the ruling regimes; even if the reforms unlock investment and expand the supply of capital to the private sector, interest groups close to the regimes will benefit vastly more than the middle classes and the poor.

Second, because economic decision-making in most Arab countries is highly centralized, reforms will likely be shortsighted when it comes to fostering broad-based growth in the long term. Governments have a free hand in channeling resources, which will result in substantial investments in infrastructure and potentially manufacturing. This will please the regime’s allies who run these sectors -- and it will lead to some economic growth. But because this growth will come from low-value-added industries, it will be slow and more uneven than progress spurred by research, development, and entrepreneurism, which advances technologies and empowers the private sector. 

The Arab middle classes will also have to cope with the fact that they lack clear political objectives, a shortfall that hobbled the Arab Spring. As a point of comparison, in the 1990s and the early 2000s, the middle classes in eastern and central Europe calmly endured the painful economic adjustments necessary for joining the EU -- a goal that inspired citizens to sacrifice. Arab citizens must likewise endure the economic pain that will come from reforms after decades of mismanagement. But there is no greater political mission to make it worth their while -- no expansion of political freedoms or alleviation of the societal ills that triggered the Arab uprisings in the first place. Unless political reforms accompany economic ones, the rationale for sacrifice will remain weak.

Further complicating matters, the tools through which the Arab middle classes could exert leverage on their regimes are increasingly limited. Although Arab uprisings of the past three years started as revolts of the younger generations against corrupt and inept politicians, they swiftly morphed into broader middle-class movements against the ruling elites, who stood as obstacles to development. And then they changed once again, this time opening even deeper social fissures along religious and sectarian lines. As a result of this devastating outcome, the middle classes no longer see uprisings as a viable political option.

The Arab middle classes also lack experience. Groups that today fall under this definition all arose in the past four decades -- a period of undemocratic rule, social inequality, and assaults on civil society across the region. Unlike in countries such as Brazil, India, Portugal, and South Africa, which have undergone admirable political liberalization over the past thirty years, Arab middle classes never developed the expertise and political savvy to match their demographic and economic clout.

Finally, the middle classes will have to answer three questions about their position in today’s global society as well as the role played by their countries in the world. The first is how they behave toward Israel. As their governments warily eye the intractable Arab-Israeli conflict, with no medium-term solution in sight, the middle classes’ stance may determine the chances of peace, or a wider war, in the Middle East. The second question is how they will react to sectarianism. If the Arab middle classes buy into the Sunni-Shiite rivalry fueling the clashes in Iraq, Lebanon, and Syria, much bloodier conflicts may be in store for the eastern Mediterranean. And third, their views toward the United States, a country whose close partnerships with most large Arab countries define the existing regional order, will help determine whether that order stands or falls. 

OFF THE SIDELINES

The course chosen by the Arab middle classes will vary based on the austerity measures in each country, the strength of the social safety nets, and the subtleties of individual political systems. The responses of different subgroups within each country’s middle class will also vary. Senior civil servants and successful entrepreneurs, for instance, will support government reforms more strongly than low-level public employees, pensioners, small-business owners, and farmers. But regardless of each country’s unique characteristics, the Arab middle classes will soon need to confront the dilemmas that new economic policies create.

The Arab world is coming to a boil, and its economic woes and lack of political openness are raising the heat. At the moment, the region’s middle classes appear to be passive observers. But their choices in the next few years will carry major consequences for their countries’ economies, governments, and foreign relations -- not to mention the ultimate course of the new wave of chaos sweeping the region.

[Foreign Affairs] More than Mosul

Nuri al-Maliki's Plans for a Divided Iraq

By Reidar Visser

JUNE 13, 2014

Lately, Iraqi politics has been full of contradictions. On April 30, millions of voters -- including millions of Sunni Arabs -- selected mostly moderate candidates in the country’s third general election since its current constitution was adopted in 2005. Just weeks later, the local government in the largest Sunni city, Mosul, fell to a group of Syria-based radicals called the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL). The Iraqi security forces barely resisted.

With the situation in Mosul rapidly deteriorating, Prime Minister Nuri al-Maliki seems to be considering two main alternatives: proceed with forming a new cabinet, which, to achieve a modicum of stability, would require him to include at least some of his political enemies, or consolidate his influence among Iraqi Shia, with little regard for what happens to the Sunni and Kurdish parts of the country. 

These two alternatives reflect two very different strategies, both of which Maliki has pursued over the last several years. Since he became prime minister in 2006, Maliki has sometimes tried to transcend the ethno-sectarianism that has characterized Iraqi politics since the 2003 U.S. invasion. By going after hardliners within his own Shia community, especially the Sadrists, Maliki tried to paint himself as a prime minister for all Iraqis. By insisting on a centralized energy policy, he broke down the Shia-Kurdish compact that had been so central to Iraqi politics in earlier years. He also alienated many fellow Shia in Basra and in the far south, who had hoped for greater energy autonomy. Finally, by standing firm against Kurdish claims to territories in the north, he won friends outside his own ethno-religious community, including the Sunni Turkmens, Sunni Arabs, and Christians living in those areas.

Maliki’s attempts to overcome Iraq’s divided politics were more enthusiastic between 2008 and 2010, when he discovered that he could increase his own power by challenging fellow Shia politicians and appealing to Iraqis more broadly. His plans fell by the wayside after the 2010 general election thanks, not least, to a concerted effort by other Shia parties and Iran to bring him back into the sectarian fold. Maliki did try, however, to revive his old strategies before the general election this year. In that race, he spoke of Iraq’s “political majority” and seemed to assume that he’d be able to win over at least some Sunni Arabs, who would join forces with him in the struggle to stamp out Kurdish attempts at an ever more independent energy policy.

At the same time, though, a very different -- more sectarian -- Maliki has been lurking just around the corner. In his first term, for example, Maliki was one of the few Shia leaders to urge moderation in the regime’s de-Baathification program. But he was highly selective in his moderation; regardless of legal criteria, Shia former Baathists were often allowed to continue to serve and Sunnis tended to be dismissed. In his second term, Maliki also became associated with projects that smacked of sectarianism. Sometimes, they went even further than schemes he had criticized back in 2005, such as a plan by some of his Shia political competitors to create a Shia federal canton. At the time, Maliki had dismissed the idea as a recipe for the partition of Iraq. But, just before this year’s general election, he backed similar legislation to create new provinces in a number of areas in northern Iraq -- a move that would protect Shia minorities there from Sunni control and potentially connect them with the Shia-dominated Baghdad province. More generally, despite plenty of opportunities during his two terms in office, Maliki failed to reach out to Sunni Arab communities beyond striking personal friendships with selected tribal sheikhs and local politicians.

Maliki’s ambiguity on sectarian politics informed his reaction to the fall of Mosul. The rapid withdrawal of Iraqi forces from Mosul and other Sunni areas suggests that Maliki simply gave up on defending them, preferring instead to consolidate his control over Shia zones. The moves have added fuel to discussions about the potential partition of Iraq.

At the same time, however, Maliki has tried to distance himself from the army’s withdrawal, calling it a conspiracy and hinting at subversive local Sunni politicians’ involvement. Maliki knows that, to finally form a government after the April 30 election -- out of which he emerged with the largest number of seats but not an outright majority -- he would need to join with at least one major Kurdish or Sunni leader. Until now, his hubris has seemed to prevent him from doing so, but events in Mosul may have finally injected some much-needed realism into his political thinking.

Maliki must know that he has already lost many of his cards. For example, to the extent that some Sunni politicians were previously interested in dealing with him, it was predicated on Maliki’s tough stance on Kurdish claims to disputed territories. Following the ISIL attack, though, Kurdish forces have occupied most of those territories, thereby depriving Maliki of what little leverage he had over Sunni Arab politicians. If Maliki wants to try to strike a partnership with the Kurds instead -- probably the most realistic alternative at present-- he will find that they have already secured much of what they want on their own. The only things Maliki would have left to offer are more generous payments to the Kurdish armed forces out of the central government’s coffers and painful compromises on the independence of the Kurdish oil sector.

Alternatively, Maliki could be thinking that a smaller, Shia-dominated Iraq offers him the best chance of staying in power, since he does enjoy a clear parliamentary majority in Shia areas. But any move toward a formal partition of the country will meet will considerable regional resistance. Despite its support for Iraqi Kurds, Turkey probably is not ready to recognize a fully independent Kurdistan. For its part, Saudi Arabia would likely feel threatened if the ISIL were to build bases beyond Syria. Even Iran, although potentially tempted by the emergence of a smaller and more Shia Iraq that might be easier to dominate, would not be happy about having its access to Syria blocked by an explicitly Sunni political entity in western Iraq.

So far, Maliki’s response to the crisis has indicated that he wants to further concentrate power instead of sharing it more broadly. Just after Mosul fell, he attempted to impose emergency rule, a plan the Iraqi parliament failed to embrace. When his supporters responded by threatening to involve Iraq’s supreme court, one felt a sense of déjà vu. Maliki, it seems, could be aiming to amass power based on his strong Shia majority and a belief that the rest of Iraq simply does not count. If this tendency prevails over coming weeks, it would mean that Maliki learned nothing from the dramatic fall of Mosul.

[Foreign Affairs] Treacherous Triangle

China, Russia, the United States, and the New Superpower Showdown

By David Gordon and Jordan Schneider

MAY 22, 2014

This week, Russian President Vladimir Putin has been in China, looking to deepen ties between his country and his neighbor to the south. The trip could mark the start of a new era in U.S.-Russian-Chinese relations, the trilateral relationship that dominated the final decades of the Cold War and is now making a comeback. After Russia’s aggression in Crimea, Moscow and Washington are locked in conflict. Beijing has thus become the new fulcrum, the power most able to play one side off the other.

It is hard to overstate just how significant the shift could be. During the Cold War, the United States capitalized on the constant, at times extreme, Sino-Soviet tension. Thanks to the United States’ closer relations with China, first illustrated during U.S. President Richard Nixon’s famous 1972 visit to Beijing, the Soviet Union feared total isolation. It consequently became more willing to accommodate U.S. demands. American leverage increased, manifesting itself in the U.S.-Soviet agreement on the first Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty just three months after Nixon’s trip, and in the Helsinki Accords three years later. In return for Chinese support, Washington gradually normalized its dealings with Beijing, culminating in 1979 in the reestablishment of diplomatic relations, which had been suspended after the communist takeover.

The dissolution of the Soviet Union and the shock of Tiananmen Square marked the end of the first era of triangulation. In the post–Cold War unipolar era, the United States did not need to use a reeling Russia against an internally focused China to achieve its goals. But, thanks to China’s rise as a major power and Russia’s newfound assertiveness, trilateral dynamics are back. This time, though, the United States isn’t the dominant player.

CHINA'S CHOICE

If animosity between China and the Soviet Union defined trilateral relations during the Cold War, today it is U.S.-Russian tensions that drive the triad’s dynamics. Clashing interests, a real ideological divide, and the likely escalation of U.S. sanctions will add to the strain. Unlike U.S. President Barack Obama at the start of his first term, though, the next president will not likely attempt a “reset” with Russia, if only to avoid the domestic political blowback. Likewise, Putin has his own reasons for keeping tensions high; he would like to stir up nationalism to preserve his popularity at home, especially in the face of continued economic contraction.

Between these two clashing powers lies China. As the nation in the triad with the broadest policy options, China is positioned to play Russia and the United States off each other, much as the United States did with China and Russia in years past.

Putin has hoped to convince China to use its influence to provide Russia significant economic and political support. In that, he is likely to be disappointed. For one, the two sides don’t have the same strategic goals. China wants global respect for its peaceful rise to great power status. Russia wants to challenge and undermine the West at every opportunity. Further, China sees the United States as its most important partner because of the two nations’ economic interdependence. In other words, even as China balances between the United States and Russia, it won’t risk provoking a real falling out with the United States. It will, however, drive hard bargains and extract concessions from both sides, particularly from Russia.

For example, Putin would like China to legitimize Russia’s aggressive regional stance. To this, China won’t say “no,” but it won’t say “yes” either. The last thing the country would want to do is lend public support to the principle that issues of sovereignty can be decided through referenda. The spillover effects in Hong Kong, Inner Mongolia, Taiwan, Tibet, and Xinjiang would be too severe. What Russia can reasonably expect, though, is for China’s leaders to maintain their benign neglect, continuing to abstain on UN votes against Russia and undermining Western sanctions.

Putin has also been looking to dramatically expand Russia’s role as an energy provider to Beijing, which would create leverage for Russia in its energy dealings with Europe. And, after a decade of false starts, during the first part of Putin’s trip to China, Moscow and Beijing did ink an agreement for the “Power of Siberia” pipeline, presaging a new phase in bilateral energy relations. On this issue, Moscow’s desire to expand energy exports intersects with Beijing’s search for greater energy security. And although Russia secured some $25 billion in prepayment to finance the pipeline -- very important in the face of Western sanctions -- China got the better the deal. Russia will supply it natural gas at significantly lower-than-market rates, saving China tens of billions of dollars and pushing down the price of gas across Asia.

In addition to energy, China would like Russia to make it easier for Chinese firms to invest in Russia and sell to Russians. For China, Russia’s middle class economy is a huge market opportunity, especially now that Western firms have started to defer investment there. Russia, fearful of competition, has tended to restrict access to the Russian market for Chinese companies. But in the new geopolitical triangle, Russian and Chinese economic interests will converge; Moscow is already loosening restrictions on Chinese investment and will likely speed up the process.

China might also ask Russia for access to Russia's most advanced military technology. Moscow has been reluctant to sell Beijing its highest-end materiel, partially out of fear that China might someday use these weapons against Russia. Russia might now be more willing to share some technology in return for strategic concessions, but such a policy shift will be gradual. And it might have spillover effects outside of the triangle, for instance driving India into the arms of U.S. arms manufacturers in its search to match China’s increased military capabilities.

TRIFECTA

Just as the United States was emboldened by its lead position in the U.S.-Russian-Chinese triad during the Cold War, so too will China's resolve increase as Russia pursues its affections. For instance, China might become less eager to liberalize its foreign investment policy, something the United States has long wanted as a way to drive down the bilateral trade deficit. With new economic opportunities to China’s north, it simply won’t be as desperate for U.S. money. And the more Russia opens up its technological storehouse, the more willing China will be to press its interests in the South and East China Seas.

Unlike during the Cold War, however, when Washington’s rapprochement with Beijing pressured Moscow to change many aspects of its global policy, the closer Russian-Chinese relationship is unlikely to change U.S. policymakers’ calculations on most major U.S.-Chinese issues. Thus, the dynamics of the new triangle will not exactly mimic the old.

A rising China supported by a desperate Russia will make for a formidable geopolitical pair. Even so, the United States will not weaken its commitments to its allies, such as Japan and the Philippines, in the face of increased Chinese confidence. It will continue to pursue its flagship regional trade deal, the Trans-Pacific Partnership. And it will press China on its state-sponsored commercial espionage with increasing vigor. Unlike the Soviet Union, the odd nation out in the first triangle relationship, the United States today has the military, financial, and political strength -- coupled with a global network of alliances -- to stand on its own. But an emboldened Beijing will nevertheless make it harder for the United States to maintain its current position as the Pacific’s regional balancer.

[Foreign Affairs] Who Will Win the Middle East?

How New Rivalries Are Transforming the Strategic Landscape

By Tarek Osman

MAY 20, 2014

Since the middle of the twentieth century, the Middle East has seen regional hegemons come and go. The 1950s and 1960s were Egypt’s era: Cairo was the Arab World’s capital and the home of its charismatic postcolonial leader, Gamal Abdel Nasser. But Israel’s victory over Egypt, Jordan, and Syria in the 1967 war; Nasser’s death, in 1970; and the spike in oil prices after the 1973 war brought that era to an end. As millions of Egyptians and other Arabs left home for the oil-wealthy Gulf, the gravity of Arab politics went with them. As the Gulf’s fortunes rose, especially in Saudi Arabia, so too did Riyadh’s political clout. Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait in 1990, however, and the subsequent U.S.-led war, which was launched from Saudi soil, made clear that oil could buy Gulf countries, including Saudi Arabia, a lot of influence, but they still needed American protection.

After the Gulf War, in the first half of the 1990s, the Oslo Agreement between the Israelis and the Palestinians and the Israeli-Jordanian Peace Treaty, shepherded by Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, gave rise to Israel’s moment in the Middle East. Regional economic cooperation took center stage, casting the politics of the previous four decades aside with the optimism of peace and integration. Rabin’s assassination in 1995 abruptly dashed those hopes. The peace process floundered by the end of the decade, as a new rightwing in Israeli politics rose to power, hardly disposed to any closeness to its neighbors. 

Then there was a void; the 2000s was no one’s decade. No Arab country had the power, resources, or credibility to assert itself across the whole region. Sectarianism spread, fuelled by the U.S. occupation of Iraq and ensuing civil war. Arab republics, such as Egypt, Syria, and Tunisia, witnessed shocking levels of corruption that eroded the foundation upon which they were built in the 1950s: social equality and the consent of the lower middle classes to the reigning regimes. In the Gulf, the ruling dynasties sought to turn their desert towns into glittering cities, modeled on Hong Kong and Singapore, and detached themselves from the problems of their other Arab neighbors. Whereas in previous decades the region’s strategic landscape had depended on one country’s ascendancy, by 2011, with so much of the region muddling through and failing to put together serious national or regional political projects, the dominant players in the Middle East seemed to be economic actors, from multinational corporations to regional financial interests.

The Arab uprisings of the last three years shook up the balance of power once more, toppling three of the Arab republics, Egypt, Libya, and Tunisia; threatening Arab monarchies in the Gulf; and sewing chaos around Israel. Whereas most observers evaluate the uprisings in terms of the political changes they did -- or did not -- usher in, there are other forces at play. A larger power struggle has emerged out of the ashes of revolution, repression, and war from Tunisia to Syria, which is reshaping the entire strategic landscape of the Middle East. Its outcome will transform the entire region more than any regional rivalry or the rise or fall of any single power in the preceding half century. 

The emerging confrontation is over the nature and future of the region’s societies, from North Africa to the Gulf.

FACE OFF

At the heart of this transformation are two groups of countries and political forces with opposing objectives. The first, led by Islamist forces in Iran, Qatar, Turkey, and the large Arab political Islamist groups such as the Muslim Brotherhood, aims to channel the energy of the Arab uprisings toward a gradual Islamization of the region. The definition of that Islamization varies depending on the ideologies, backgrounds, and social and political circumstances of each country. The camp’s unifying conviction, however, is that political Islam is the sole framework for governing. Its members believe that, unlike the old rhetoric of secular Arab nationalism or republicanism, Islamism can actually win the support of the widest social segments in the region -- and keep it. To promote its goals, the camp uses a loosely organized network of media, religious authorities, and financial interests to rouse wide sections of the more than 180 million Arabs who are under 35 years old to demand bottom-up change.

The other camp, led by Saudi Arabia and other Gulf monarchies, such as Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates, and supported by Egypt, Israel, and Jordan, sees this transformation as a threat. They -- the traditionalists -- believe that Islamization will bring further fragmentation in some countries, such as Iraq, Lebanon, and Syria; highly disruptive political and social discord in others, such as Egypt; and the strengthening of jihadist groups across the region. Favoring a more gradual, managed, and cautious evolution of the existing order, the traditionalist camp relies on militaries, security apparatuses, media and financial interests, and other state or state-backed institutions to enforce a message of national preservation and shield their countries from the upheaval unfolding across the region. 

The battle between the two groups is a new kind of fight in the Middle East. Previous struggles between Arab secularists and Islamists (for example, between Nasser and the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood in the 1950s, or between the Assad regime and the Brotherhood in the late 1970s and early 1980s) were country and regime specific. The Arab-Israeli conflict, meanwhile, has been primarily over territories. And the contest between secular Arab republics and Gulf monarchies throughout the 1960s (such as between Nasser’s Egypt and Saudi Arabia) revolved around the survival of specific regimes. This emerging two-camp confrontation, however, is over the nature and future of the region’s societies, from North Africa to the Gulf.

TROUBLE IN EVERY DIRECTION

The struggle between these two camps will be determined by four factors. The first is Egypt’s future. With nearly 90 million people, the country is the home of a third of all Arabs and, for decades, has been the region’s cultural trendsetter. Political Islam has already shaped Egypt’s politics since the fall of President Mubarak, throughout President Mohamed Morsi’s year in office, and, since Morsi’s ouster last summer, in the ongoing struggle between the resurgent nationalists -- and at their core, the military establishment -- and the Islamists. But it is really Egypt’s economy that will determine the country’s course. If Egypt’s government, likely led by Field Marshal Abdel Fattah El-Sisi, who is widely expected to win a May 25–26 presidential election, can finally put forward badly needed economic reforms, including cutting back on unaffordable public subsidies, without losing popular support and risking another round of political protest, then Egypt could regain its status as a player in the region and significantly bolster the second camp. But that is a tall order. And if it fails, another round of unrest would doom the traditionalists’ camp.

The second variable is the future of Algeria, North Africa’s largest and richest country, thanks in large part to its oil and gas wealth. (Algeria is Europe’s third-largest energy supplier.) The military regime has been buying time until it can find a replacement for the ailing, aged President Abdelaziz Bouteflika. His replacement must be acceptable to the generals who have controlled the country for over four decades and be conciliatory to the political Islamists that fought the regime throughout the 1990s in a war that cost 100,000 lives. The regime still survives by buying off such dissenters and playing off the public’s fear of returning to the violence of the 1990s, which compels many Algerians to accept the lack of plurality in return for peace and stability. But although the Algerian regime survived the wave of protests in 2011 intact, it is hardly bulletproof. Algerian political Islam has evolved beyond its 1990s antagonistic worldview. New Algerian Islamist parties could reemerge as a serious rival to the military regime. And with Algeria’s immense financial resources, this would give the first camp a major strategic advantage.

The third factor is Saudi Arabia, where the royal family is digging in its heels. A rising middle class that has a huge stake in the economy -- and has been increasingly exposed to political and social currents outside the conservative kingdom -- has finally started to demand political representation. Meanwhile, Saudi Arabia’s economic prospects are slowly deteriorating. (The country is expected to become a net energy importer by 2030.) A sagging economy will only hinder the royal family’s ability to keep buying middle-class support through social welfare and public allowances. The threats of a low-level Shiite insurgency in the kingdom’s eastern province, a renewed Shiite Houthi militancy on the borders with Yemen, or a protest movement among young, disaffected Saudis could erode the government’s authority. A weakening of the Saudi regime would undermine the traditionalists’ camp by diverting the resources and dampening the will of its most powerful and assertive member.

But there is another scenario. King Abdullah, who is 89 years old, has shuffled responsibilities and positions within the ruling family, and the rising (relatively young) princes are aware of the challenges their political system faces. If, motivated by these existential threats, the Saudi regime can evolve and turn the kingdom into a functioning constitutional monarchy in which the political, social, and economic rights of large groups of young Saudis are respected, it could lead to a long but relatively stable transition. A new, assertive Saudi leadership, buoyed by political legitimacy, would imbue the traditionalists’ camp with strong momentum.

The fourth factor is just how much more chaos the Middle East sees over the coming decade. The civil war in Syria is likely to end with a semblance of a centralized authority in Damascus, surrounded by quasi-independent political entities. Several Salafist jihadist groups in the country could manage to entrench themselves in the increasingly lawless desert plains extending from eastern Syria to western Iraq, where they could try to establish Islamic statelets, isolated from the surrounding world (as similar groups have tried in Afghanistan and the Caucasus). Their presence will be a source of violence and political fragility, primarily for Syria and Iraq, but also for Lebanon and Jordan, opening more fronts in the battle between the two camps.

The camp that can turn the political contests in the region to their advantage, by deflecting potential chaos and inflicting its consequences on the other camp, will be better positioned to win this strategic struggle.

THERE’S A STORM COMING 

As unpredictable as the Middle East will be over the next few years, there are a few certainties. First, following a pattern of the last five decades and increasingly spurred by demographics and the already palpable cultural trends within the region’s colossal youth segment, the wave of urbanization, Westernization, and increased liberalism will prove unstoppable. That will weaken the Islamists, because their attempts to evolve their rhetoric and political messages to match these trends will diminish their support among their core constituencies and gradually detach them from the Islamic frame of reference upon which their entire movement has been built. Second, because of competitive deficiencies in educational quality, technological advancement, and energy costs -- in addition to looming water crises in the Nile and Jordan River basins -- almost all large countries in the region will confront socioeconomic turbulence in the next decade. That will weaken the traditionalist camp, which relies on structured authority.

In a sense, then, both camps could lose. The socioeconomic challenges that all of these countries will confront could trigger a new youth rebellion, which, unlike the 2011 uprisings, would not be directed at the current rulers but at the entire political and economic establishments that control these countries. Such a movement could rapidly dilute the powers of entrenched institutions in old Arab republics as well as in Gulf monarchies. It could also undermine the prospects of political Islam. No matter what, then, adaptability will be key for Islamists and traditionalists alike. The camp that adjusts to these social, political, and economic waves will have better chances of withstanding the approaching storm.

[Foreign Affairs] Arms and Influence in the Gulf

Riyadh and Abu Dhabi Get to Work

Bilal Y. Saab
May 5, 2014

Since the formation of the modern Arab state system in the mid-twentieth century, no Arab country has succeeded in building and sustaining an indigenous national defense industry. Egypt tried hard, but ultimately failed because it lacked the requisite financial and human capital. Under Saddam Hussein, Iraq came closest, thanks to its skilled population and oil wealth, but it was stymied by corruption, mismanagement, and war. The Gulf countries, meanwhile, have spent lavish sums on the most modern U.S. and European arms, which they often lack expertise in handling and servicing. “Arabs don’t do maintenance,” the adage went.

Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates (UAE) may finally end this streak of Arab failures. Over the past decade, the two countries have quietly developed their military-industrial capacities. Today, they are capable of manufacturing and modernizing military vehicles, communication systems, aerial drones, and more. Further, they have significantly improved their ability to maintain, repair, and retrofit aircraft. And with U.S. assistance, they have trained their militaries to operate some of the most sophisticated weapons systems in the world, including Hawk surface-to-air missiles.

To be sure, Saudi Arabia and the UAE are nowhere near self-sufficiency. (Even the most advanced U.S. allies remain heavily dependent on the United States for its military technology and know-how.) Indeed, their defense-industrial efforts are hardly complete, and retain some glaring weaknesses. But both countries have taken advantage of strategic partnerships with the top transatlantic defense companies in order to learn from the best. Riyadh and Abu Dhabi have primarily done so through so-called offset agreements, which compel foreign suppliers to invest in local industrial projects so that the recipient country can offset the typically huge cost of defense procurement. Such programs have allowed the two countries to connect their domestic defense sectors with global defense producers and acquire advanced defense industrial knowledge and technology. Meanwhile, the information technology revolution has made the international defense market even more accessible to smaller players, allowing Saudi Arabia and the UAE to manage, and in some instances, overcome key technological hurdles.

Riyadh and Abu Dhabi’s drive for military industrialization reflects their desire to reduce their political dependence on the United States. That is perfectly understandable. No nation wants to be totally reliant on another to protect itself and its interests. But unilateralism on the part of U.S. partners and allies can sometimes undermine U.S. security interests; take, for example, Israel’s unilateral military actions in Lebanon, Syria, and the Palestinian territories. Washington has often favored and called for regional solutions to many of the region’s security problems, and it would be relieved if Saudi Arabia and the UAE could use their own new resources to help defuse crises in the future. But if the Saudis or the Emiratis decided to act independently in the event of a new regional crisis, in the mold of the 1990­­–91 Gulf War, the United States could see its regional influence diminish.

Given Saudi Arabia’s size and its own leading role in the Gulf, its current disappointment with U.S. policy in the Middle East deserves closer scrutiny. Should relations between Riyadh and Washington fail to improve, bold unilateral moves by the kingdom, bolstered by more developed national defense and security capabilities, could challenge the U.S. regional force structure and threaten Washington’s other relationships in the Gulf. The UAE is a different story: Abu Dhabi’s armed forces are more technically proficient and combat-ready than the Saudi military, but its leaders are less interested in acting outside of U.S.-led coalitions.

But Saudi Arabia and the UAE have also invested in military industrialization to modernize their societies and diversify their economies. And ultimately, the pace, scope, and effectiveness of Saudi and Emirati military efforts will continue to depend on broader societal changes. Both countries still have considerable deficits of human resources and expertise -- key barriers in the way of building a sustainable defense industry.

Moving forward, Riyadh and Abu Dhabi need to further institutionalize their defense industrial processes, formulate clearer production policies, put in place more competent government managers, and make larger investments in education, research, and technological development. It could take anywhere between five and 15 years before either country can sustainably export military products and rely on its own manpower and arms production capabilities to address national security needs. But the Saudis and Emiratis are wise not to rush. It is only a matter of time before they have more advanced defense industries -- and the independence that comes with it.
__________________

BILAL Y. SAAB is senior fellow for Middle East security at the Brent Scowcroft Center on International Security at the Atlantic Council.

[Foreign Affairs] Man in the Middle

Why Abdullah Gul Will Disappoint the West

By Steven A. Cook

Many observers, both in Turkey and abroad, believe that this is Turkish President Abdullah Gul's moment to shine. In recent months, Turkey's democracy has careened wildly off its democratic path, as Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan has resorted to increasingly authoritarian measures -- including a ban on access to Twitter and YouTube -- to suppress what he believes is an existential threat posed by his onetime ally Fethullah Gulen, a charismatic Turkish cleric who has followers in positions of influence throughout the government. Erdogan seems intent on trying to excise Gulenists from Turkish society entirely. Erdogan's paranoia has also moved the AKP toward becoming an authoritarian cult of personality.

This is where many Turks, Europeans, and Americans have hoped that Gul would step in to steer Turkey back onto a democratic course. In mid-February, Gunay Hilal Aygun, a columnist for the Gulen-affiliated Today’s Zaman, asked, “Will President Gul let the Turkish people down?” The Financial Times picked up on this theme a few weeks later when the editorial board called on Gul “to take a stand” against Erdogan. What these observers seem to want is for Gul to come down from the apolitical confines of his presidential office and directly challenge Erdogan for leadership of the AKP, with a promise of restoring the party's original coalition, which included pious Muslims of all stripes, Kurds, secular liberals, and the business elite. These hopes aren't entirely fanciful, but they are far too optimistic. In fact, they have fundamentally missed Gul's broader reading of Turkish politics.

Gul has carefully cultivated his reputation as a moral voice in Turkey's transition to democracy, and in recent months he has not shied from expressing his displeasure with Erdogan's style of leadership. In response to the government’s ban on Twitter after Erdogan vowed to “eradicate” the service, Gul tweeted, “The wholesale shuttering of social media platforms cannot be approved. I hope this practice will not last long.” Months earlier, at the opening session of the Grand National Assembly, Gul distanced himself from the prime minister's increasing authoritarianism, declaring, “I have always acted with the awareness that democracy requires tolerance, patience, perseverance and sacrifice. I was also mindful of the fact that democracy is a system of checks and balances.” And in responding to last spring's Gezi Park protests, Gul’s diplomatic manner and vocal support for peaceful dialogue with protesters contrasted starkly with Erdogan’s thuggish defiance.

All of this is consistent with Gul's demeanor in meetings with journalists and private interlocutors, where he has offered implicit but unmistakable critiques of the prime minister. He has also hinted that he might return to politics sometime in the future, raising speculation that he would challenge Erdogan. The fact that the president has not been caught up in the ongoing corruption scandal that has enveloped Erdogan and the AKP since last December has only intensified speculation about Gul’s political plans.

But for all of his appealing attributes, Gul has consistently stopped short of taking action. Rather than use the powers of his office to thwart Erdogan’s worst instincts, Gul has done the opposite. Since last June, he has signed into law a slew of restrictive measures supported by Erdogan and passed by the AKP-dominated Grand National Assembly. These new laws range from restricting the Internet to making administering first aid a criminal offense under certain circumstances, to prevent good Samaritans from giving aid to protesters. Gul has also signed into law a measure that strips the independent Supreme Council of Judges and Public Prosecutors of its power to make any judicial appointments and transferred that authority to political appointees at the Ministry of Justice.

Gul's aides have tried to paint his actions as attempts to make the best of a bad situation. For example, Gul approved the Internet access bill but included the proviso that the parts of the legislation that most egregiously violated international norms be revised. Yet Gul's more idealistic supporters were stunned that he would give his assent at all. They couldn't understand how the man whom they believed clearly disapproved of Erdogan's authoritarianism had been so willing to act as his accomplice.

But Gul's behavior should not come as such a surprise. It is the product of his understanding of Turkey's present political situation and his own broader political goals. The fact that Gul has failed to challenge Erdogan doesn't mean there aren't differences between the two men. There is no reason to doubt that Gul is sincere when he expresses democratic ideals. But for the present moment, at least, Gul believes that it is necessary to subordinate his ideals for the sake of maintaining the stability and strength of the AKP.

As Turkey's president, Gul is legally not permitted to have a political affiliation, and he has done his best to stay above day-to-day politics. But his past as a political operator can’t be denied. Gul -- along with Erdogan and a number of others -- is a founder of the AKP. As they built the party in 2001 and 2002 they looked to dysfunctional coalition governments of the 1990s, which were composed of various small parties with limited appeal, as a cautionary example. They observed how personal rivalries pushed the previously venerable Motherland and True Path parties into oblivion. Gul and his partners wanted their AKP to rise above all that and to be able to capture a broad share of the public. Just 14 months after founding the AKP, the new party garnered 36 percent of the vote in national elections. The rest is history.

Whatever his other political beliefs, Gul believes that the AKP remains the only vehicle for Turkey’s transformation (and for his own personal ambition). In that sense, anything that Gul does to fracture the AKP would be devastating to his own lifelong political project. Even if he knows that the AKP has lapsed from its reformist origins, Gul likely believes that its disintegration would be worse, since it would return Turkey to the destabilized politics of the recent past.

And Gul would not be wrong to think so. If he directly challenged Erdogan, he would surely receive praise from Turkey watchers in Europe and the United States. But that would hardly compensate for the bruising political battle he would have initiated with Erdogan. For all of the discussions about fissures developing within the party since the Gezi Park protests and a few resignations after the corruption scandal broke, the AKP has remained remarkably cohesive and loyal to Erdogan. Most of the party’s parliamentarians owe their position to the patronage of the prime minister, and Erdogan remains wildly popular among the AKP supporters in the public. Gul has loyalists of his own in the party, of course, but the apolitical nature of the presidency has constrained him from broadening his base within the AKP.

And Gul has surely noticed, during this extended season of Turkish political tumult, that Erdogan has proved to be a fearless combatant. The Gulenists within the police, judiciary, and state prosecutors’ office have thrown virtually everything at him, and the prime minister has only responded in kind. Erdogan’s call for a ban on Twitter and YouTube reflects his willingness to do Turkey harm in pursuit of trying to save himself.

Erdogan's evident lack of judiciousness is the reason that outsiders believe Gul should assert himself; from Gul's perspective, it also the reason he should refrain from doing so. A civil war between pro-Erdogan and pro-Gul factions of the AKP would only serve to benefit their common political enemies, the Kemalists. When Kemalism was the dominant ideology in Turkey, pious Turks like Gul and Erdogan were subjected to routine repression. The rise of the AKP has mostly reduced Kemalism to a hollow ideology, something to which many Turks only pay lip service as they go about their business. But Kemalist forces still exist in Turkey throughout the judiciary, the bureaucracy, academia, big business, and the military. To the extent that a fight with Erdogan would provide an opportunity for Kemalists to return to the fore of national politics, Gul will avoid taking on his old ally.

The president is likely better off avoiding a direct confrontation with Erdogan, signaling his disapproval for the prime minister’s excesses, and hoping that the electoral process provides an opportunity for Turks to alter their country’s current nondemocratic trajectory. The key word is “hope.” Although Erdogan has given up the idea of becoming president under a new constitution that would have granted the presidency broader and more direct political powers, AKP lieutenants have openly floated the idea of changing party bylaws to allow him to serve additional terms in his current office. If that happens, which seems likely, Gul will remain under Erdogan’s shadow. Perhaps Gul is planning to bide his time until Erdogan thoroughly discredits himself with his supporters. But, in that case, he may be waiting a long time. All of Erdogan’s excessive actions to date -- banning Twitter and YouTube, attacking civil society organizations, intimidating the press, and making accusations about foreign plots aimed at bringing Turkey to its knees -- have played well with his constituency.

It is hard not to sympathize with Gul. He is the voice of reason -- or at least portrays himself that way -- in a political environment where so many seem to have taken leave of their senses. But he also believes he has no good options available to him. By wading into the AKP morass, he thinks he would ultimately only be doing damage to himself, his party, and Turkey as a whole. Those who are desperately waiting for Gul to make a move will most likely remain disappointed. He will remain outside the battle -- torn between his political ideals and his calculations of political interest.

[Foregin Affairs Website 2014/3/27]

[Foreign Affairs] Islamist Outlaws

Saudi Arabia Takes on the Muslim Brotherhood

By William McCants

On March 7, Saudi Arabia took the extraordinary step of declaring the Muslim Brotherhood a terrorist organization, on par with Hezbollah and al Qaeda. The move came just two days after the kingdom, together with the United Arab Emirates and Bahrain, withdrew its ambassador from Qatar because of Qatar’s alleged support of Brotherhood interference in internal politics. Although Saudi Arabia’s dislike of Brotherhood political activities abroad is well known, for decades the kingdom has tolerated (and sometimes even worked with) the local Saudi branch of the Brotherhood. Its sudden reversal is an expression of solidarity with its politically vulnerable allies in the region and a warning to Sunni Islamists within its borders to tread carefully.

This story goes back to the Arab Spring, when Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak, Saudi Arabia’s longtime ally, was ousted, and Egypt elected Mohamed Morsi, a Muslim Brotherhood­–linked politician, to fill his shoes. Riyadh feared that the group, now empowered, would try to export the Egyptian revolution regionwide, calling for action against the House of Saud and displacing Saudi’s friends and allies such as the UAE. Those fears were not entirely unfounded.

In Saudi Arabia, members of the Muslim Brotherhood had been at the forefront of the Awakening movement, a push in the early 1990s for political change in response to alleged Saudi government corruption and the basing of U.S. troops in the country. But, as the political science professor Stéphane Lacroix documents in his book Awakening Islam, most members of the Saudi Muslim Brotherhood had quickly fallen into line once the regime began to arrest or sanction its leaders. The Saudi Brotherhood simply had too much to lose: its members helped build the Saudi state and occupied important positions in the religious and educational establishment.

That détente ended with the Arab Spring, when a number of prominent Islamists added their names to a 2011 petition calling for political reforms in the kingdom. They also obliquely criticized the lack of political freedom in Saudi Arabia by lavishing praise on fellow travelers in Tunisia and Egypt. Even Nasir al-Umar, a hard-line Sururi (a blend of Brotherhood and ultraconservative Salafism), was singing the praises of democratic change. Then Crown Prince Nayef and future Crown Prince Salman pressed them into silence. According to one person I spoke to on a recent trip to Saudi Arabia, some were forced to sign a pledge to cease criticizing the lack of political freedom in the kingdom. But the renewed détente was fragile, hinging on events in tumultuous Egypt.

There was some reason for Saudi Arabia to fear for its allies in the region as well. Under Mubarak, Egypt had been a dependable Saudi ally. But Morsi sought to chart a neutral course between Saudi Arabia and Iran, following an early fundraising visit to the kingdom with an attempted rapprochement with Iran. The United Arab Emirates was worried, too. The Brotherhood has had a small presence in UAE since the 1960s, but after 9/11 the government started to see the group as a national security threat. It didn’t help that when the Muslim Brotherhood came to power in Egypt some members of the UAE branch began agitating for political reforms, going so far as to sign a petition calling for elections and real authority for the UAE’s advisory council. The government responded by arresting group members across the country, including men belonging to an alleged terror cell with ties to the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt.

In response to what they saw as Egyptian meddling, Saudi Arabia tried to economically isolate Morsi and hasten his departure. In May 2013, just two months before the military overthrow of Morsi, the Egyptian finance minister complained to the Saudis that Egypt had only received $1 billion of the $3.5 billion in aid promised after Mubarak’s downfall. When the Egyptian military overthrew Morsi just a year into his rule, Saudi Arabia applauded and quickly promised Egypt a new aid package of $5 billion, together with one from the UAE for $3 billion and from Kuwait for $4 billion. When the new regime massacred Brotherhood protestors in August, the taciturn King Abdullah uncharacteristically voiced his public support for the slaughter as a blow against terrorism. When the new Egyptian government declared the group a terrorist organization in late December 2013, Saudi Arabia followed suit. When UAE decided not to replace its departing ambassador in Qatar -- partly to punish Qatar for its refusal to discipline an influential Qatar-based Brotherhood spiritual leader who preached that the UAE is against Islamic rule -- Saudi Arabia recalled its own ambassador in solidarity.

Saudi Arabia’s moves have provoked some unhappiness at home. Saudi Islamists, particularly the Brothers, are convinced that Morsi’s overthrow was part of a Saudi plot to roll back Islamist political gains of the past three years. In defiance, they festooned their social media profiles with symbols of Brotherhood resistance and criticized their government for its complicity. The defiance has become more muted recently, after the local press reported that the government was contemplating declaring the Brotherhood a terrorist organization. According to former members of the Saudi Muslim Brotherhood I spoke with, the 25,000 or so members of the Brotherhood in Saudi Arabia reacted to the news of the deliberations by preemptively keeping a low profile, closing some of its gatherings so as not to further stoke the government’s ire. Until the Saudi government actually begins making arrests, its recent announcement is more of a shot across the Brotherhood’s bow than an attempt to sink the ship.

Nevertheless, person after person I interviewed asserted that the level of Islamist anger toward the Saudi government is higher than at any time since the early 1990s. That does not mean Brotherhood leaders will move against the regime in the near term. In the 1990s as now, they have too much to lose institutionally. There is also some benefit in a wait-and-see approach, which is why Salman al-Awda, a prominent Saudi Islamist, is privately counselling his followers to wait for the regime’s factions to sort things out among themselves. But the younger rank-and-file Brothers in Saudi, like those in other Brotherhood franchises outside Egypt, are starting to lose hope in peaceful political change. That frustration can lead to apathy. But it can also lead to violence -- and if it does, the Saudi government’s decision to declare the group a terrorist organization will have been a self-fulfilling prophecy.

[Foregin Affairs Website 2014/3/17]

[Foreign Affairs] Break Up in the Gulf

What the GCC Dispute Means for Qatar

By Bilal Y. Saab

On March 5, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates (UAE), and Bahrain announced that they had withdrawn their ambassadors from Qatar, claiming that Doha had been violating a clause in the Gulf Cooperation Council charter banning interference in the domestic affairs of fellow GCC members. The decision, unprecedented in the GCC’s history, hints at significant changes to come for the GCC and the balance of power in the Gulf.

The dispute between GCC members had been simmering for a while, and it was only a matter of time before it boiled over. In December, during a GCC Summit in Kuwait, Riyadh and Abu Dhabi had been close to singling out Qatar for its alleged financing of terrorism in Syria and elsewhere. But, at the last minute, the Saudis pulled the plug to avoid embarrassing their Kuwaiti hosts. They opted instead to give Doha a stern private warning. A couple of weeks before that, Saudi leaders scolded new Qatari Emir Sheikh Tamim during a meeting in Riyadh that was arranged by Kuwaiti leader Sheikh Sabah Al Ahmad. The 33-year-old Tamim was asked to make serious adjustments to his country's foreign policy, including that the country stop allegedly funding al Qaeda­–affiliated groups in Syria. The young Tamim reportedly agreed, but requested some time to make the necessary changes.

Tamim eventually managed to reduce Doha's involvement in the Syrian conflict. But, realizing that it had lost in Syria, Doha doubled down on outreach to the Muslim Brotherhood and its offshoots in the region, including Hamas. In addition, it continued efforts to cozy up to Iran and Turkey, support the Al Houthi rebels in Yemen, and test the waters with Hezbollah. In doing so, Doha was touching every nerve and ringing every alarm bell in Abu Dhabi and Riyadh, where officials were doing all they could to finish off the Muslim Brotherhood (including labeling it as terrorist group and propping up Egypt's military chief, Field Marshal Abdel Fattah al-Sisi, by paving the way for his presidency).

No wonder, then, that the Bahrainis, Emiratis, and Saudis soon accused Qatar of trying to undermine the GCC and recalled their ambassadors. But where does this leave Qatar? Tamim has two options, neither of which is good. He can either fully comply with the wishes of Saudi Arabia and the UAE -- which would cost him his relationship with Qatar’s old guard, including his father -- or consolidate his role by working with his father's allies and freeing his country once and for all from the shackles of Saudi influence and an increasingly irrelevant GCC.

Tamim might not survive the first scenario, given how difficult it would be to confront not only his family but also the enormously influential ex-prime minister and foreign minister Hamad Bin Jassim Al Thani. But the second option wouldn’t be easy, either. In that scenario, Qatar would more forcefully ally itself with Iran, with which it already has strong economic ties. It would also get politically and economically closer to Oman, which already has friendly relations with Tehran. But that wouldn’t come without costs either. The Sultanate is essentially in the GCC doghouse for refusing to adopt the group’s standard line against Iran. Should Qatar join that club, it will be hard for it to ever reverse course with the GCC.

Should Qatar become friendlier with Iran and Oman, it would signal the death of the GCC and herald a new power alignment in the Gulf. It would also severely complicate U.S. plans in the Middle East. For some time, the United States has encouraged the Arab Gulf States to think and act more collectively to enhance Gulf security. But with increasing tensions among GCC members, including possible divorces, this goal seems increasingly unrealistic. Washington may come to see that its Gulf allies will not be able to provide regional security anytime soon and, as a result, think twice about plans to reduce the U.S. political and military footprint there.

Qatar's spat with its Saudi and Emirati neighbors also creates another policy dilemma for the United States. Washington has strategic relations with all three states, which will become difficult to manage if they aren’t on speaking terms. It is possible that Riyadh and Abu Dhabi could even lobby the United States to help shut down money flows out of Doha under the guise of counterterrorism. But Washington might not be receptive. Qatar hosts the Al Udeid Air Base and the Combined Air and Space Operations Center, which coordinated all of the U.S. attack and surveillance missions for the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. In other words, although the U.S. Treasury Department and State Department may show readiness to entertain Saudi and Emirati punitive measures against Doha, the Pentagon will probably put the brakes on any such plans.

In the coming days, the departure of the Saudi, Emirati, and Bahraini ambassadors from Qatar will likely trigger rushed consultations among the Arab Gulf States. And these will probably lead to some sort of political settlement to defuse the crisis. But make no mistake about it, this is a new political era in the Arab Gulf, one in which individual states are charting their own courses and where the idea of unity, no matter how hard Saudi Arabia pushes for it, is rapidly fading.

[Foregin Affairs Website 2014/3/6]

[Foreign Affairs] The Muslim Martin Luther?

Fethullah Gulen Attempts an Islamic Reformation

By Victor Gaetan

In a video posted on his Web site last December, the Turkish Islamic scholar Fethullah Gulen called on God to curse Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan. Gulen, who has lived in exile in the United States since 1999, declared in a sermon broadcast on Turkish television, “Those who don’t see the thief but go after those trying to catch the thief: may God bring fire to their houses, ruin their homes, break their unities.” This went far beyond the normally secular bounds of political debate in Turkey.

But to fixate on Gulen's lack of political polish is to miss the point. Gulen and Erdogan have been described in the West as political rivals, but there has always been more at stake in their clash than earthly affairs. Whereas Erdogan may frequently indulge in Islamist political rhetoric, it is Gulen that has tried to make actual contributions as an Islamic intellectual and develop a genuinely modern school of Islam that reconciles the religion with liberal democracy, scientific rationalism, ecumenism, and free enterprise. Regardless of who wins the battle for Turkey's political future, it is vital that Gulen's religious legacy be preserved.

EGALITARIAN ENLIGHTENMENT

Erdogan has repeatedly portrayed Gulen, and his religious movement, known as Hizmet (which translates to Service), as part of a political conspiracy, calling it a “parallel state” responsible for initiating a series of corruption investigations against his administration. These accusations are impossible to substantiate. Hizmet has no formal membership, no headquarters, and no hierarchy, which makes it impossible to know whether Gulenists are overrepresented in law enforcement and the judiciary, let alone orchestrating a putsch. There are many civic organizations in Turkey that are explicitly linked to Gulen, but, in keeping with Gulen’s teachings, they neither endorse nor reject any political party.

Gulen's theology went hand-in-hand with Turkey's capitalist revolution. The country's new entrepreneurs were pious Muslims who drew on Gulen's teaching to justify their embrace of free enterprise, strong democratic institutions, and dialogue and commerce with other faiths.
Although Gulen has always assumed that pious Muslims would be drawn to politics, he has long warned against allowing religion to be used as a tool to pursue political power. In this sense, Gulen has followed in the footsteps of Said Nursi, a great Turkish scholar of Sufism, who inspired an Islamic revival in the late Ottoman period and under Ataturk’s republic. Nursi's 6,000-page commentary on the Koran, Risale-i Nur (Epistles of Light), argued that true spiritual knowledge was accessible to all Muslims without the guidance of a “master.” Nursi considered materialism an enemy of Islam, but he also advocated modern science instruction in Muslim schools.

Gulen has endorsed this same basic approach. Born in eastern Turkey in 1941, he grew up studying the Koran. He began to manage a mosque as well as a study center in the city of Izmir in the 1960s. Pushing beyond Nursi's concept of strengthening religious conscience, or inner discipline, Gulen emphasized the importance of public service as a way for believers to glorify God while repressing selfish impulses.

These teachings were in sharp contrast to the political pronouncements of Islamist groups, like the Muslim Brotherhood, that gained ground in the Middle East in the mid-twentieth century. Where the Brotherhood considered it a religious obligation to control the state and to make Islamic law the basis of jurisprudence, Gulen argued that religion suffered from politicization. Where the Brotherhood implies that jihad is necessarily an armed struggle, Gulen emphasized that jihad is a moral and spiritual struggle.

In 1970, Gulen was arrested by a newly installed military government, and his license to preach was revoked. But his private talks to small groups -- in mosques, theatres, coffee shops, and schools -- were taped and distributed. Gulen leveraged his growing fame to establish a series of student hostels, or “lighthouses,” that offered private prep courses for university entrance exams. In 1979, personal friends of Gulen set up a publishing business so that he could provide his growing number of students with study materials. Yamanlar College in Izmir, the first Gulen-inspired private high school, followed in 1982. By 1983, he had a wide national following.

Today, Gulen sympathizers run more than 1,500 schools and universities in 120 countries, including Afghanistan, Austria, Bosnia, Indonesia, Japan, Mexico, Sudan, and the United States. (In Texas alone, Gulen affiliates manage 26 public charter schools.) The Gulen movement provides countless scholarships for the poor to attend their schools, which mostly emphasize science and math. By contributing as volunteers, or financiers, to the movement's education network, supporters also engage in a form of sanctified charity.

His commitment to education as the main solution to problems plaguing most Muslim societies is the most concrete expression of Gulen's religious teachings. Drawing on Islam's sacred texts -- the Koran, hadith (words of the Prophet), and Sira (biography of the Prophet) -- as well as Turkish and Ottoman cultural tradition, Gulen has developed a distinct form of Islamic theology that puts social engagement, not political engagement, at its center.

The Utah-based political scientist Hakan Yavuz, author of Toward an Islamic Enlightenment: The Gulen Movement, sees four defining characteristics in Gulen’s project. First, Gulen emphasizes that a believer's piety can be measured by his practical actions, specifically, the degree to which the person improves the human condition. Second, Gulen argues that Islam must be an ecumenical religion. Muslims, he believes, are obliged to seek consensus in their communities and should value social participation and dialogue with other groups. (Gulen's movement has placed a particular emphasis on interfaith dialogue, especially with Christians and Jews.)

Third, Gulen teaches the inviolability of individual rights. Religious engagement, he maintains, must be voluntary, which is one reason that Gulen's followers are usually referred to as “volunteers” and their total numbers are never officially counted. Finally, the Gulen movement endorses critical thinking as a foundation for knowledge that glorifies God, rather than as something that contradicts revelation. Science, Gulen teaches, is a vehicle for Muslims to honor their religious duty to improve the economic condition of their societies.

To the extent that Gulen has had anything to say about politics, it has almost always been in the service of promoting democracy and cultural tolerance. Asked by The New York Times about his attitude toward the Turkish government, Gulen responded, “I always believe in being on the side of the rule of law, and I also believe in the importance of sharing good ideas with the officials of the state that are going to promise a future for the country. Accordingly, irrespective of whoever is in charge, I try to be respectful of those state officials, keep a reasonable level of closeness and keep a positive attitude toward them.” He has also emphasized the importance of maintaining a healthy civil society outside the control of the state. Private schools, private enterprise, volunteerism -- these were the institutions that Turkey required if it hoped to maintain its traditionally inclusive culture.

Gulen's theology went hand-in-hand with Turkey's capitalist revolution, which was sparked by economic deregulation in the 1980s. The country's new entrepreneurs were pious Muslims who drew on Gulen's teaching to justify their embrace of free enterprise, strong democratic institutions, and dialogue and commerce with other faiths and ethnic groups. Gulen, in turn, urged this new capitalist class to work hard and succeed -- not for personal gain but to enhance the spiritual well-being of society. The prophet Muhammad was also a merchant, he reminded them.

Gulen has shown that he will refuse to be intimidated, but it is still an open question whether his movement can withstand the AKP’s relentless campaign against it.
MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE

It should come as no surprise that the Gulen movement saw a potential ally in Erdogan's AKP party. In 2002, under the AKP flag, Erdogan spoke out in favor of greater religious and economic freedoms. Like the AKP, the Gulenist movement had identified the military and the old secular economic elite as impediments to those freedoms. Although the Gulenists never offered an explicit endorsement, it seemed keen to work with the AKP. After Erdogan won, the AKP (as well as Justice Department officials said to be affiliated with the Gulenists) supported a series of court cases that landed hundreds of military officers and businessmen in jail. (Although there were many flaws in the trials’ methods, blame falls mainly on the shoulders of the AKP, which had sole authority to direct the proceedings.)

But the alliance did not last. The AKP and the Gulenists have fundamentally different understandings of Turkish identity and how it relates to Islam. The AKP has its roots in Turkey's National View ideology, which was originally advanced by former Turkish Prime Minister Necmettin Erbakan in his manifesto Millî Görüş (National View), published in 1969. Erbakan argued that Turkey should turn away from the West and forge a political, economic, and military union with Muslim countries. According to this view, national strength, especially as expressed in conflict with the West, is a bigger priority than healthy democratic institutions. Erbakan is still a clear source of inspiration for the AKP in general, and for Erdogan in particular. When Erbakan died, in 2011, Erdogan cut short a trip to Europe in order to rush back for his funeral, attended by hundreds of thousands in Istanbul. Germany’s most influential Turkish Islamist organization is a Millî Görüş community that Erdogan has encouraged to resist Western assimilation, in accordance with Erbakan’s teachings.

Predictably, Hizmet and the AKP have clashed over Erdogan's bellicose foreign policy and undemocratic domestic maneuvers. When a Turkish NGO attempted to break Israel's blockade of Gaza and was confronted by the Israeli navy (resulting in nine deaths), Erdogan responded by accusing Israel of terrorism and genocide. Gulen responded to Erdogan's belligerence, by calling it not “fruitful,” and adding that he sought Israeli permission anytime his charities wanted to help the people of Gaza.

Another point of contention has been Turkey's relationship with the European Union. As a strong proponent of closer ties with Europe, the Gulenist movement has been frustrated by Erdogan's refusal to pursue more serious accession talks with the EU. Occasionally, Erdogan has pursued policies -- such as legislation restricting Internet access and reducing the independence of prosecutors -- that seem designed to antagonize EU officials. Gulenists have also been concerned by Erdogan's support for Egypt's Muslim Brotherhood.

Free speech has always been a critical issue for the Gulenist movement, so it has also spoken out against Erdogan's persecution of journalists and his broader disdain for democratic dialogue. According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, Turkey has incarcerated more journalists over the past two years than any other country in the world. (Close on Turkey's heels: Iran and China.) Gulen sympathizer Alp Aslandogan, president of the New York–based Alliance for Shared Values, a nonprofit umbrella group for Hizmet-affiliated groups, recounted the “intimidation, inspections, and fines” that now confront publishers. “Media group owners face threats to their businesses. Never in Turkish history has a single person or party achieved this level of media subservience.”

Erdogan's response to last summer's Gezi Park protests must have been particularly troubing for the Gulenists. In some sense, the diverse group of protesters, who originally gathered to demonstrate against the demolition of an Istanbul park, were the model of the sort of engaged pluralistic civil society that the Gulenists champion. Erdogan decided to order police to disperse the protests with force, which resulted in days of violent confrontation. Gulen placed the blame on Erdogan for not listening to the protesters' demands in the first place. That seems to have convinced Erdogan to declare war directly on the Gulenist movement. In September, Erdogan announced that the government planned to close all private schools helping students to prepare for university exams: the Gulenist movement runs about 20 percent of such schools in Turkey and they represent a vital source of income, as well as one of the main ways in which Gulen's ideas are introduced to the public.

Erdogan and the AKP have taken to describing Gulen’s movement as a power-hungry conspiracy. But there is little evidence of a concerted Gulenist push for power. The movement has stayed true to its teachings by devoting massive resources and attention to running schools, charity organizations, and media entities, in Turkey and abroad. Gulenists have not made a concerted push to infiltrate the AKP, or to seat their own members in parliament. Gulenists have regularly denounced the AKP’s corruption as a violation of Islamic ethics and Hizmet principles. There is no reason not to take those criticisms at face value.

Gulen has shown that he will refuse to be intimidated, but it is still an open question whether his movement can withstand the AKP’s relentless campaign against it. Erdogan is clearly intent on marginalizing the Gulenist movement, even at the expense of the rule of law in Turkey. This week, President Abdullah Gul signed a law allowing government agencies, without a court order, to block access to any Web site. Last week, parliament passed a bill giving the executive branch complete control over the judiciary, allowing the government to nominate and fire prosecutors at will.

Turkey would clearly be harmed if Gulenist teachings on tolerance and individual rights were successfully quieted. But the loss for Islamic culture would be an even greater tragedy.

[Foregin Affairs Website 2014/2/20]

[Foreign Affairs] Can a Myth Rule a Nation?

The Truth About Sisi's Candidacy in Egypt

By Joshua Stacher

Anyone who claims to possess full political power in post-Mubarak Egypt is lying. That might be hard to believe, given how large the military looms these days. But the vision of an almighty military -- propagated by the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), its supporters, and those desperate for stability -- is a mirage. Soon enough, it will dissipate, revealing deep tensions in Egypt and dwindling options for what is often assumed to be Egypt’s strongest institution.

On Monday, SCAF, the governing body of the Egyptian military, unanimously gave Abdel Fattah al-Sisi, the military’s commander in chief and Egypt’s current defense minister, its blessing to run for president. (Indeed, it considers his nomination a “mandate and an obligation.”) Sisi, whom the interim president promoted to the rank of field marshal the same day, has yet to announce his candidacy. Still, most everyone has accepted it -- and his eventual presidency -- as a fait accompli, the final step in the military’s reconquest of Egypt and the country’s return to the days of former President Hosni Mubarak.

But that is not the whole story.

Last June, Mubarak supporters and some revolutionaries came together to oust elected Egyptian President Mohamed Morsi. Since then, large parts of society have coalesced around Sisi as the personification of a renewed nationalist strain of Egyptian power. He is lionized in the state media and praised by figures from Mubarak’s defunct ruling party and crony capitalist networks. Much of the general population, outside of the Muslim Brotherhood and revolutionaries, view him as being above the political fray. Brides profess to want to marry him, and men project his masculinity to reinforce their patriarchy. And those clamoring for stability -- from media moguls to average Egyptians and U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry -- talk of democratic roadmaps and upcoming elections while sweeping political reality under the rug.

Sisi has tried to cement his position in politics by initiating an antiterror campaign, launched in late July of last year. The state’s coercive machinery has since increased its targeting of antigovernment protests and sit-ins, which has produced a death toll in the thousands. It is more than just a crackdown on the Muslim Brotherhood, which Egypt’s military-backed government has officially labeled a terrorist organization. The interim government and security forces have also killed and injured non-Brotherhood protesters, jailed revolutionary activists and nonstate-controlled journalists, lodged legal accusations against politicians who rose to prominence after the uprising, and slandered dissenting academics. The campaign has coincided with an uptick in bombings, assassinations, and a Sinai-based insurgency against the state by an Islamist group, Ansar Beit al-Maqdis. As the body count rises (security forces killed nearly 70 people last weekend), it is becoming clear that the state has actually weakened over the past three years. The government’s policy of using violence against dissenters is merely the latest effort to fix a leaky boat. But it will keep Egypt on the brink of revolution.

To understand why, consider what happened as protesters chased Mubarak’s last government out of office in January and February 2011: The military rolled in to protect infrastructure and its own factories and then carved up Mubarak’s ruling coalition while everyone else focused on Mubarak’s resignation. The SCAF exiled or imprisoned some crony capitalists and the government’s pro­-economic-reform team because it did not control them. It eliminated many of its competitors in the interior ministry and brought them under its authority. For example, the SCAF renamed the State Security Investigations Service(Homeland Security) , Egypt’s draconian domestic spying apparatus and reshuffled its leadership in March 2011.

Other powerful and potentially competitive intelligence agencies were not spared. Take, for instance, Omar Suleiman’s General Intelligence Service. An assassination attempt against him in Cairo during the uprising was never explained, and most accounts speculate that the military was behind the conspiracy because no one was ever apprehended. He can be forgiven, then, for quickly retiring after Mubarak’s departure. Last August’s appointment of Mohamed Farid el-Tohamy -- a former military intelligence officer -- to run the General Intelligence Service demonstrates just how fully the military had dismantled Suleiman’s old networks.

By the time the revolution was over, nearly all political control rested in the SCAF’s hands. At that point, the council had a number of options. It could have governed on its own, but it did not want to. Instead, the generals decided to protect their interests but hide behind a civilian face. So it sought out a civilian administration that could not challenge it. In the process, it whittled Mubarak’s regime, which had been designed to serve multiple constituencies and networks, into a system that would serve the interests of the military alone.

The SCAF reached out to a previous foe, which, it believed, could help demobilize a restive society. The Muslim Brotherhood was given a choice between siding with the revolution or the military. Brotherhood leaders broke toward the generals, believing that, if they were pliant enough, they would be indispensible to the military. In the end, however, Morsi and his group could not deliver what the military wanted: public stability or an end to continuous street activity. In fact, their presence and blatantly partisan rule made protests worse. So the military and its supporters consulted with and allowed the Tamarod protesters to turn up the heat on Morsi. Their street mobilization in late June, in turn, pushed the generals back into action.

In one sense, the military got its way. It demonstrated its sway over the Egyptian state when some observers believed that it had, in fact, been sidelined by Morsi, who forced the retirement of a handful of senior generals in August 2012, including the then defense minister and head of the SCAF, Field Marshal Mohamed Hussein Tantawi. But in another sense, the military damaged the foundations of the regime it inherited. By pushing out an elected official, it discredited the notion of elections as a useful tool for rotating and transferring political power among civilian groups. Gone was any last inkling that the military could stand neutrally by, allow electoral victors to emerge, and not interfere with the process.

Now, with no other organized civilian group left to work with and its options limited, the SCAF hurled Sisi into the spotlight and began to create the myth of an Oz-like wizard controlling the state. Doing so bought Egypt’s generals some time, but the task before them -- engineering a new regime -- needs more than that. The longer the transition process drags on, the more cornered the SCAF finds itself. In fact, although Sisi’s nomination for the presidency might have appeared inevitable or destined, one could argue that it was the SCAF’s increasing weakness and paranoia that motivated his impending candidacy. After all, given his popularity, Sisi could anoint anyone as Egypt’s next preferred president. Open elections would likely be a landslide for his chosen candidate, and the process would preserve both the vestige of procedural democracy and the SCAF’s ability to intervene. Yet the generals named Sisi, looking to him to finish off the revolution and reign in the Brotherhood’s participation in politics.

But beyond creepy state press portrayals of Sisi’s virility and Egyptians parading around in gold-colored Sisi masks, as many were in Tahrir Square on the third anniversary of the revolution on January 25, the junta has little upon which to build a real regime. Sisi has no economic policies or political programs to speak of. The military-backed government’s base is narrow, and since it has no way to incorporate dissenters, it will generate more dissent and state-generated violence.

For now, Sisi and the SCAF have amassed the popularity of a fickle public. But the winds could change at any time. In years past, the military was able to pivot at will, showing remarkable flexibility. But now, with Sisi’s nomination, it has made the military the central player in the drama. Its role in politics now publically recognized, it will face more scrutiny as it tries to pull the levers. It has no civilian partner on which to pin the blame, and it is losing the support of its onetime grass-roots ally, Tamarod. As the regime-in-formation resorts more and more frequently to force, it will only exacerbate Egypt’s political crisis.

It is telling that the only institution that emerged with a good hand after Mubarak fell is increasingly playing with limited cards: all clubs and no hearts, diamonds, or spades. Although it might seem in control for now, the public will not tolerate an increasingly iron fist forever. Instability and violence will eat away at the myth of the omnipotent, newly promoted field marshal and the system’s narrative of stability. Once that happens, the ongoing social struggle will move on to its next phase.

[Foregin Affairs Website 2014/1/31]