The Limits of the Arab Spring

J. Kelsay: Limits of the Arab Spring

COMMENTING ON the events of 1848, the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard spoke of the cycle of revolutions and counter-revolutions as a “vortex” in which no resolution seemed possible. Some people look for a political leader able to seize the moment and bring peace, he wrote; but he found himself looking for a martyr.

With due respect to Kierkegaard—who, after all, used the term martyr in a very special sense—when we think about the Arab uprisings that began last December and now reach across the Middle East, I think we should say that we have an ample number of martyrs. Indeed, their numbers increase almost daily. What we lack are political leaders, in the sense of skilled and intelligent people whose dedication to democratic ideals is matched by organizational strength. When the regional vortex ceases its turning, many familiar leaders will be gone. But the forms of autocratic rule will not. For people in the region, and for the rest of us, the conclusion will be that we have seen this show before.

Why will this be so? The explanation is simple: the autocrats succeeded. Decades of policies designed to stifle dissent, particularly with respect to the organization of political parties, leave the advocates of democracy with little hope of influencing elections. This is so even in those cases where one might be most hopeful—in Egypt, for example, and in Tunisia. In a number of others—say, Yemen and Syria—a change of regime is likely to yield chaos of such proportions that foreign intervention would be necessary to restore order. In that event, the real winners are likely to be groups affiliated with or fashioned on the model of al Qaeda.

Consider Egypt, for example. No one familiar with the facts could call Hosni Mubarak a good administrator. Corruption in public institutions; high unemployment rates, especially in the eighteen-to-thirty age group; and frightening decay in sewage, transportation, and other basic services all suggest a regime characterized by a kind of crony capitalism. In effect, Mubarak diverted Egypt’s resources so as to increase the fortunes of his family and friends.

Mubarak was good at one sort of administrative task, however. Utilizing his military connections, he fostered the sort of security network autocrats dream of. Reinstating the emergency law that his predecessor had briefly suspended, Mubarak encouraged a wide-ranging program of surveillance, censorship, and detention designed to limit dissent, particularly with respect to the development of organizations able to compete in elections. The regime could tolerate, within limits, individual dissent and even certain activities undertaken by workplace, neighborhood, and professional associations. But Mubarak and his allies were determined not to allow these individuals and groups to develop as political competitors. When Mubarak’s departure opened the door for reforms, those most inclined toward democracy did not have the sort of organization necessary to compete.

Articles published by the novelist Alaa al-Aswany in al-Dustur and other newspapers over the last several years provide a convenient window into democratic politics, and its attendant difficulties, under Mubarak.* “The Story of Mahmoud Hamza” begins with a brief summary of the efforts of a civil engineer with international experience who wanted to do something for Egyptians who lost their homes due to flooding in Awan Province. Utilizing his connections, Dr. Hamza raised private money to support the construction of low-cost housing and began to work toward his goal. Before long, the authorities (who initially expressed support) began to interfere, refusing building permits, shutting off the water supply, and targeting those involved for arrest and interrogation. Why? Al-Aswany’s analysis is instructive. The homes built by Dr. Hamza would cost half as much as an alternative program supported by the Mubarak regime. Lower cost meant smaller payments to a network of business and government officials overseeing housing construction. If Dr. Hamza’s project succeeded, the resulting rise in his public reputation might make him a viable political candidate. Finally (and most importantly), the project involved organizing people outside the channels set by the Mubarak regime. The moral of the tale, as drawn by al-Aswany, is that Egypt cannot make progress without a change in political institutions.

Some generous people still imagine that if every Egyptian worked hard then Egypt would progress without the need for democratic change. But this well-intentioned idea is in fact extremely naïve because it assumes that the effect of despotism is limited to parliament and the government. The truth is that despotism, like a cancer, starts in the political system and spreads rapidly through all government agencies, crippling and destroying them…Egypt cannot be saved from its current nightmare by individual efforts, however sincere and enthusiastic. Any attempt at reform without democratic change is simply a waste of time and effort.

As is al-Aswany’s wont in these columns, the concluding sentence of this May 10, 2010 piece is, “Democracy is the solution.”

Anyone reading al-Aswany’s reflections will have no doubt of his conviction and courage. In Mubarak’s Egypt, there was a price to be paid by those who offered public criticism. “The Fate of Ibrahim Eissa” tells the story of the editor of al-Dustur, a man devoted to fostering public conversation about Egypt and its problems. The authorities responded in ways designed to deter the editor from his goals, first through harassment, then by orchestrating the purchase of the newspaper by a prominent member of one of the authorized political parties. With new ownership came a change in approach, with the subsequent firing of Ibrahim Eissa. Before repeating his signature closing line for this October 10, 2010 column, al-Aswany noted, “Al-Dustur is finished, but it has gone down in Egyptian history as a great national and journalistic experiment.” No doubt this is true; at the same time, the story reminds us of the regime’s success in suppressing the organization of dissent.

Thus when one reads of al-Aswany’s hopes for democracy in Egypt, it is difficult to avoid the sense that the project is ultimately doomed. Those who testify to the necessity of change bear witness to the truth. Their performances are heroic. And, like the martyrs Kierkegaard had in mind, the advocates of reform bear in their lives, and frequently on their bodies, the marks of suffering resistance. But the autocrats know that so long as these heroes lack organization, their victories are purely moral. Real change requires leadership from those whose charisma and intelligence are joined to organizations ready to utilize the institutions through which power flows.

Several columns praising the virtues of Mohammed ElBaradei serve to reinforce the point. ElBaradei is of course a noted civil servant, with a particularly strong international record. Al-Aswany’s admiration for him is well placed. A December 13, 2009 column notes ElBaradei’s independence of mind and devotion to Egypt. By contrast with the Mubarak family, he is a paragon of political virtue. Another column, dated February 28, 2010, argues in favor of ElBaradei’s decision against association with any of the established political parties and expresses high hopes for the National Association for Change, ElBaradei’s initiative to bring Egyptians living abroad into a coalition with those struggling in the homeland.

As an attempt to organize outside the strictures enforced by the Mubarak regime, the NAC did seem promising—a way of practicing politics without buying into and thus in some sense selling out to autocracy. For al-Aswany, such initiatives provide a partial explanation for Tahrir Square, with its exemplary demonstration of Egyptian solidarity and popular resolve. In February 2011, a hopeful al-Aswany wrote of the demise of the regime and the hope for democracy. But by April, he was worried that the ideals of the revolution would be compromised by people who, while ready to see Mubarak go, were not ready for real reform.

The constitutional referendum of March 2011, along with the decision to hold elections no later than September, indicates that al-Aswany’s worries were well founded. On both questions, ElBaradei and those with him lost. With respect to the referendum, the majority of voters supported amending the 1971 constitution—to put it another way, they voted to keep the existing legal regime, with modifications. The resulting continuity allowed those former associates of Mubarak in charge of the interim government to proceed with plans for elections, and to do so at a pace that almost surely means that ElBaradei and others will not be able to build competitive political organizations. Had the vote gone another way, so that a majority favored writing a new constitution with elections following sometime in 2012, one might foresee a different future.

At this point, one can only see the interim government’s coalition of military officers and religious conservatives as a reprise of Egypt’s recent history. The revolution of 1952 involved a similar coalition; when the Muslim Brothers proved an unreliable political ally, Gamal Abdel Nasser and other military men took charge. When Anwar al-Sadat succeeded Nasser in 1970, he was similarly supported by religious groups; when the relationship proved fractious, the military moved away from the partnership. Al-Aswany and the heroes of Tahrir Square have reason for worry. Their sacrifices and courage will become part of the lore of Egyptian history and will perhaps serve to keep the hope of democracy alive for future generations. For now, however, there will be little in the way of democratic reform. The autocrat’s suppression of political organizations left Egypt without an institutionalized cadre of political leaders positioned to take advantage of the opportunity of 2011.

IN EVALUATING the promise of the Arab Spring, Egypt is one of the good cases. What if we turn to others, where change is less promising? In Libya, the relatively unorganized groups of rebels that took up arms in response to Muammar Qaddafi’s forceful crackdown on nonviolent protests now constitute a Transitional National Council. Representatives of the organization speak of the Libyan Republic and claim that, when Qaddafi goes, they will be ready to hold elections in three months. In the event of this unlikely prospect, who would constitute the parties? How would elections be organized? The available evidence suggests a free for all, in which only those with some degree of organization will have a chance. And who will that be? At present, the success of rebel fighters appears to rest on the contributions of former associates of Qaddafi, small groups of Islamists whose military and organizational skills stem from experience in Iraq and/or Afghanistan, and, of course, the combined military operations sponsored by NATO. While the situation of the rebels is improving, it is not clear that the goal of regime change will be fulfilled.

If it is, however, one of the following scenarios seems likely: either the international community takes control, with the goal of organizing elections within a “reasonable” (though unspecified) amount of time; or one or two of the rebel leaders whose followers have some degree of organization push toward the three-month goal and take power through some sort of electoral process. In the first scenario, the difficulty of bringing order will probably lead (quickly) to discontent over the presence of foreign forces, with a good possibility that some rebel groups reorganize as an insurgency. In the second, the relatively superior organization of military officers and of Islamists will lead to a coalition government, which in turn will yield a regime that will ultimately prove—well, autocratic.

In Yemen, the prospects for democratic change are even worse. Following a model exemplified by Hosni Mubarak, President Ali Abdullah Saleh practiced a form of crony capitalism and dealt with opposition through a combination of deal-making, more and less formal intimidation, and, where necessary, brute force. The activities of Shia groups in the north and dissatisfied forces in the once-independent south were augmented by the rise of al Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula in 2010-2011. And the interest of the United States in suppressing the last gave President Saleh a fresh supply of money and weapons to use against any and all opponents.

The fractious state of the opposition to President Saleh is clear. Now that he is undergoing treatment in Saudi Arabia for injuries suffered in a June 3 attack, some sort of regime change seems imminent. The question is, what sort? The best hope for avoiding complete chaos would seem to involve a handoff of power to one of his associates (a move favored by the established parties, but not by those demonstrating for democracy), armed intervention by the Gulf Cooperative Council, or some combination of the two. In either case, the result will be more autocratic rule rather than democracy. And that is the best-case scenario. The alternative would be Yemen’s descent into utter chaos, with a good possibility that Yemen would becomes the new center of al Qaeda operations. In this, Osama bin Laden’s death may prove both a blessing and curse. Assuming it is true that the information gleaned from the raid on his compound in Abbottabad indicates that he continued to lead the movement long after most analysts consigned him to a symbolic role, one might anticipate some weakening of al Qaeda’s ability to carry out an integrated global campaign. The door will be open for regional leaders, however. And the Yemeni-American Anwar al-Awlaki certainly seems a likely candidate to build a somewhat more limited enterprise, particularly if he assumes leadership of al Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula.

In Syria, suppression of dissent becomes more brutal by the day. Perhaps the current regime will survive. But let us think for a moment about what would happen if President Bashar al-Assad were to go. Who would take his place? The largest opposition parties have only a few thousand members. For many of them, the only existing form of organization sits in Europe or North America. Even the Muslim Brotherhood’s numbers and organization are weak in Syria. Following the 1982 massacre at Hama, most of its Syrian leadership went elsewhere. If Assad goes, the Alawite minority that forms the basic constituency of the regime will attempt to produce someone else to take his place. In the event that there is some difficulty in doing this, one may be sure that Iran will do its best to make certain that the Alawite replacement strategy succeeds. For the Islamic Republic’s best current hope of attaining its goals in the region rests, as it has for the last several years, on continuing cooperation with Syria.

The autocrats succeeded. Throughout the region, there is little in the way of organizations ready and able to step in and move the various countries toward democracy. What we are seeing is a generational change—not, however, as suggested by the coverage in European and North American news outlets, a change governed by the aspirations of a new generation of citizens, internet savvy, pro-Western, and pro-democracy, eager to reject both autocracy and the Islamist alternatives. Rather, the torch is being passed to a younger set of autocrats. Perhaps they will be somewhat kinder to their people than the generation that is fading. Certainly, one can hope they will be less corrupt, and more attentive to the general welfare of the countries they rule. But they will still be autocrats, and those outside the region are going to feel a sense of repetition, as though watching a very familiar movie, over and over again.

John Kelsay is Bristol Distinguished Professor of Religion and Ethics at Florida State University and the author of, most recently, Arguing the Just War in Islam (Harvard University Press, 2007).

*Many of these are now available in Alaa al-Aswany, On the State of Egypt, translated by Jonathan Wright (Cairo: American University in Cairo Press, 2011).

Image: Crackdown on protest in Tunisia days after President Ben Ali’s departure (Nasser Nouri/Jan. 2011/Flickr cc)