Hereditary Republics in the Middle East

With the turn of the new millennium, there is a new trend within the Middle East: More and more states are turned into Hereditary Republics. Viktor Kocher, Middle East correspondent for the Swiss daily Neue Zürcher Zeitung, has analysed recent developments

in detail

A quarter of a century ago, the prognoses made by most Middle East experts were based on the following hypothesis: that the political systems of the Levantine states, with their thin façade of parliamentarianism, represented the progressive avant-garde of the Arab world, and that the Gulf monarchies would eventually be obliged to follow their lead.

This was the view held by most Arab journalists in the Levant; and in the West, expectations were even more inflated. Many were convinced that developments in the Levant and the Persian Gulf would go significantly further, leading inevitably towards a comprehensive democratisation of the region.

Behind this belief stood the guiding principle that the stability of nation states increases in direct proportion to the strength of their institutions and the respect accorded to civil rights.

Since the start of the new millennium, however, it has become apparent that things are developing quite differently: the nations of the Near East are meeting in the middle. The Levantine states appear to be becoming hereditary republics, while the Gulf monarchies are introducing parliamentary elements without any real legislative power. The republics are now establishing hereditary presidencies; and their parliamentary chambers have long since served the ruling parties as a stable popular basis to ease the task of management.

In other words, these parliaments function essentially as transmission belts between the top and bottom tiers of society. By contrast, the monarchies are now providing room for deliberative assemblies, in compliance with the Islamic principle of Shura. Partly elected, partly appointed, these assemblies undertake a highly critical examination of government proposals for changes to the law; nonetheless, in the final analysis, it's always the ruler who decides.

In short, such assemblies significantly extend the power base of the ruling dynasty without ever questioning its right to rule. The Islamic Republic of Iran, for example, with its half-theocratic, half-parliamentary system, is located firmly in the middle.

Personification of stability

A single model of the state now prevails everywhere, characterised by the personification of strength and permanence by a single individual or a small elite group. In a superordinate official position, above and beyond the claims of law and order, a guarantor of the state stands guard, while civil rights are subordinated to the drive towards stability.

This model can be reconciled with the Islamic governing principle of the Shura: though the ruler enters into consultations with his subjects and is bound by the moral precepts of Islam, his final decision is based on the promptings of his own conscience, and his final responsibility is to the Almighty alone. The guardian of the state supervises and guides the activities of the government and parliament along general lines.

Although the ballot box and the will of the people do play a role in who is appointed to parliament, they never have the final say. At the very least, the regime will lay down the guidelines through its state-owned media before the elections take place; and, if necessary, the vote will be manipulated to produce the desired result, so that the ruling party or coalition can always be assured of achieving the necessary majority.

Thus, while many countries claim to have a democratic system, the possibility that power might change hands unexpectedly can simply be ruled out. Appointment to the highest office in the land is determined either by the rules of hereditary succession, or else by presenting a "unity" candidate who represents the consensus within the regime, and who is then rubber-stamped by a suitable plebiscite.

The Lion of Damaskus

In the Near East and the Western world, the work of parliament proceeds according to two very different models of democracy. This was made abruptly clear in the summer of 2000, with the death of the Syrian president Hafez Assad. Well in advance of his demise, the regime's most powerful figures had already considered the question of who was to succeed him, for a power vacuum had to be avoided at all costs.

The most prominent comrades of the elderly Assad had already recognised their status as dinosaurs; Defence Minister Mustafa Tlass, for example, had accompanied Assad since the early 1950s, firstly as a trainee pilot at the Academy in Homs and then as an officer in Egypt. It was acknowledged that a new generation would have to be allowed to take over; and which young leader could claim more support from the people than Assad's son, Bachar?

Groomed for high office by his father, he practically bore the trademark of prudence and imperturbability on his brow… Thus the consensus of the ruling elite was proclaimed to the public; and in the twinkling of an eye, the constitution was altered to permit a 34-year-old – six years short of the previous legal minimum age – to step into the highest office in the land. One month later, the optician Bachar al-Assad was sworn in as President.

In his maiden speech before parliament, he balanced hope for the future with a firm attachment to the iron bands of tradition – to such an extent that they cancelled each other out. The young Assad called for "plurality of opinion and a new, creative way of thinking", while also demanding the conservation of everything traditional and conventional. In the end, the aim of instigating a wondrous renewal of the wholly ossified one-party system remained just about perceptible.

What has emerged since then is the continuation of the old, arch-conservative ways. From Israel, Assad is demanding not only the return of the last square yard of occupied land right up to Lake Genezareth, but also (in his rhetorical ardour) a further strip of earth on the west bank of the lake.

And the young President stamped the democratic shoots of the Political Debating Club – which had emerged amidst hopes of a genuine renewal – back into the ground. The victims included those journalists who had reported on the Club just a little too enthusiastically.

Subsequently, Middle Eastern commentators began to consider the situation with an eye to the change of generations, and this naturally included the question of who would succeed to the thrones of Jordan and Morocco. Suddenly, it became possible to discern other crown princes in putatively republican states.

Seif al-Islam al-Gadhafi, the son of the Libyan revolutionary leader, was making an international name for himself in tough diplomatic missions (for example, in negotiations on the ransoming of Western hostages held by Islamists in the Philippines). Although Gadhafi Senior was himself just a little over 60 years of age, he had held the reins of power ever since his officers' putsch of 1960, and almost all of his political companions had predeceased him.

In Yemen, Ahmed Ali Saleh, son of the President, Ali Abdullah Saleh, enjoyed a brilliant career as commander of an elite army unit and (from 1997 onwards) as a Member of Parliament. Since the terrorist attacks on US soil, he has been in charge of anti-terror operations in his own country.

In September 2002, Gamal Mubarak, the 39-year-old son of the Egyptian President, was finally appointed to a committee in the Secretariat of the National Democratic Party; but he had already captured the affections of Egypt's young generation long before this.

And in Iraq, Oday Saddam Hussein, a good-for-nothing playboy fortunate enough to be the President's son, "won" the parliamentary elections, while his younger brother Kusay rose irresistibly through the ranks of the military to reach the innermost circle of the Ba'ath Party. One might sum up these developments in the Middle East as The Birth of the Hereditary Republic.

By examining some examples from the last half-century, I would now like to identify some of the determining factors which have hindered the growth of a real democracy free from government-imposed "checks and balances". To begin with, this state of affairs cannot be explained merely by referring to the relative youth of the Arab nation states. Arabic historians also point to a lack of disciplined political thought dedicated to achieving results in the long term, which has resulted in a propensity towards noisy, populist demagoguery.

On the other hand, these historians also call attention to the unrelenting pressure from outside, which feeds worries about the stability and very survival of the state. In addition, the rulers of the Gulf States have used their oil riches to create what might be called "pensioner states", in which concern for the populace is restricted to ensuring that the wrong people aren't neglected when the wealth is being parcelled out.

As a secular Western observer, I would also mention the essentially patriarchal nature of Oriental societies; and, coupled with this, the unbroken loyalty to a superior authority - which, for many, means a divine authority, in the Islamic sense.

Humble pie in Syria

Despite having suffered a civil war, Lebanon is still regarded as an oasis of relatively free speech in the Middle East. After the Second World War, the French rulers left their formerly mandated territory well equipped for independence, with functioning political institutions. And thanks to the country's numerous religious communities – which determined its internal political organisation – a multi-party system was built in naturally, so to speak.

Yet Lebanon's late-feudal structures and its system of patronage made it into a democracy based on personalities. As the Gemayels, Chamouns, Frangiehs and the old Jumblats died out in the course of the war, they left behind them a correspondingly weak and ill-defined party-political culture, making the thorough political infiltration of Lebanon by the Syrians even easier than it would otherwise have been.

Certainly, no Lebanese would overlook the pernicious influence of the country's geographical location. As early as 1948, the founding of the State of Israel sent a wave of refugees into this small country; and from then on, the presence of an unfriendly and heavily armed neighbour to the south forced the politicians in Beirut to undertake continuous defensive measures and to tolerate the damage caused by intermittent warfare.

Then came the shock wave of pan-Arabist Nasserism, which threw into question the "distinctive nature" of Lebanon. In 1958, shaken by the anti-Western military coup in Iraq, the US sent its Marines to Beirut. In 1970 came "Black September" and the suppression of the Palestinians in Jordan. More and more PLO fighters flooded into the land of the cedar. These were armed, pan-Arabist militants; within a few years, their alliances with local parties led to the explosion of the political system, and ultimately to civil war.

Although this war was partly fomented by the Syrian occupiers, they eventually laboured to end it. Since 1990, Lebanon's political system has been under Syrian dominance, and this state of affairs has only been reinforced by the unfortunate tendency of Lebanese politicians to let their disputes spiral ever further – until they have to eat humble pie in Damascus once again. Parliamentary elections are only partly free, and a majority of pro-Syrian representatives is required – a condition imposed by means of political pressure and the corruption of candidates and voters.

Turning the Islamic Revolution on its head

Iran's Islamic regime has now shaken the entire region on two separate occasions: in 1979, when Khoumeini's revolution enforced the clergy's claim to secular power; and in 1997, when President Khatami was elected and turned the Islamic revolution on its head. According to Khatami, the guiding Islamic principles for the practice of politics were to be found, not in the teachings of a few solitary clerics, but in the will of the Muslim people as expressed through the ballot box.

The systematic suppression of Khatami's democratic reforms by the security forces and the judiciary showed one thing very clearly: although the constitution of the Islamic Republic permits lively debate on legislation and on the government's performance, this all takes place within strictly defined limits based on Islamic principles. The leaders of the Revolution – who enjoy an exalted position above the executive branch – and the Islamic councils of guardians and experts watch over these principles zealously.

Moreover, the armed forces and the police apparatus are subject to the supreme command of the revolutionary leader, who also appoints the judges and controls the output of television. Thus, the decisions and actions of the democratically appointed institutions, parliament and government, are subjected to controls that have not been legitimated by the Iranian people.

This "self-sufficiency" of the real rulers has been strengthened by the country's oil revenues, which have made the regime largely independent of its taxpayers. And whenever drastic measures are dictated by the Iranian revolutionary leaders - whether they be named Khoumeini or Khamenei - these proceedings are justified by reference to the threat posed by the Great Satan, America, which strives to hollow out Islam by propagating its own, godless, materialistic way of life.

Palestine: External pressure leading to authoritarianism

Arafat's prospective Palestinian State probably provides the strongest proof that massive external pressure and a constant threat to one's very survival will almost inevitably result in a relapse into traditional social patterns of authoritarianism and corruption. We all remember the dramatic months when Israeli tanks demolished the Palestinian administrative apparatus brick by brick, not excluding Arafat's own headquarters, right down to the walls of his bedchamber.

Eventually, "Abu Ammar" was reduced, quite literally, to a mere symbol; for days on end, his only role was to sit in his "Mukataa" and embody Palestine.

All the while, his popularity rose to unprecedented heights, although - or more likely, because – the Israelis had exposed his machinations as a sponsor of ambushes on Jewish settlers, and even of terrorist suicide attacks in the heart of Israeli cities. And until the very last seconds of his struggle with the designated Prime Minister, Mahmud Abbas, Arafat was reluctant to hand over anything more than scraps of his absolute power as "Zaim" (leader), as Supreme Commander of the security forces, and as paymaster-in-chief.

Yet when the experiment with Palestinian autonomy began in 1994, Palestinians had spoken unanimously of their desire to create a true democracy, a body politic that would stand as a shining example to its authoritarian neighbours in the Arab world. I have often asked my friends in Gaza, Ramallah and Nablus the following question: Why did you ever allow Arafat and his corrupt gang of militiamen and hangers-on to move in in the first place - and how could they have succeeded in building up their corrupt autocracy against your will?

The replies were spoken in a tone of resignation: Arafat, it was said, had supplied the Israelis and the Americans with precisely what they had demanded of him: namely, the suppression of armed opposition groups. And the emissaries of the Israeli government, I was told, had themselves cooperated with Arafat's cohorts to create this corrupt system of monopolies on cement, fuel, sugar and tobacco – the purpose of which was to keep the Palestinians in a state of dependency.

The extensive financial assistance provided by the EU had also enabled Arafat to pay his hordes of security men and civil servants – a faithful reproduction of the other Arab "pensioner states". When asked to predict the chances of success for the new government under Mahmud Abbas, Palestinians point out that the most urgent task laid down in the "Roadmap for Peace" is the enforcement of a total renunciation of violence, against the will of the armed militias.

The Future of Iraq - Will the circle be unbroken?

The Americans have now destroyed Saddam Hussein's regime, and with it his apparent plans to pass on power to his sons. So: Will Iraq now break free of this pattern of hereditary rule? In the land of the Tigris and the Euphrates, one can still discern a whole series of factors that favour the emergence of an authoritarian system embellished with the trappings of parliamentary democracy.

After the weakening of his party system, a social order based on patronage and including strong clan elements had already forced the dictator Saddam Hussein to lean on the support of his family. As the Iraqi government still acquires most of its income from oil, it's not the government that depends on the taxes paid by the people, but the people who rely on the "oil pensions" distributed by the powers-that-be.

In the wake of Saddam's astonishingly swift defeat, the feeling that the old regime has failed utterly is even more widespread than after the Nakba ("cataclysm") of the 1948 war against Israel. This should in fact lead us to expect a new beginning, another drive to root out corruption and misinformation.

So far, though, such movements have always led sooner or later to military coups and a further growth in authoritarianism. The conflict with Israel, the military threat posed to the Arab states by the Jewish regional power and the consequent inflation of the military sector in the Arab nations – these are factors that must be expected to remain relevant, at least latently. The solutions proposed by the Bush administration are biased towards Israel and constitute a fresh challenge to the Arabs' sense of justice.

Since the US intervention in Iraq, external influence on the country's politics is greater than ever before; as long as it comes from the Americans, even gentle pressure towards real democracy will be felt to constitute interference.

In addition, the American influence is likely to increase friction with the neighbouring states, which in turn will heighten tensions amongst the various ethnic and religious communities in Iraq. It seems safe to predict that stability will take some time to come; and so the stage seems set for a lengthy revival of the familiar authoritarian scheme of things in Iraq.

Victor Kocher