Nation-states falling apart (The End of the Cathedral Model)
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Arab democracy
Freedom calls, at last?
Apr 1st 2004 | CAIRO
From The Economist print edition
There's little political or even economic freedom at present, but the Arabs are starting to demand it
WHEN Tunisia cancelled a planned summit of Arab leaders it was to have hosted this week, the move's abruptness was not the only surprise. The Tunisians sniffed that they were scrapping the meeting because some of those invited didn't like an agenda that included a pledge to “consolidate democratic processes, protect human rights, and enhance the role of women and civil society”. The surprise lay in the fact that such reforms were on the agenda at all. There was also irony in the fact that Tunisia, one of the world's quieter but more complete dictatorships, should be posing as a champion of freedom.
There is a different word for it in every Arab country, but the principle is much the same. When Algerians speak of le pouvoir (power), Saudis “the family”, Egyptians al-hukm (“the decision”) and Lebanese their “political elite”, all describe a tight circle of people linked by shared background and common interests, who have monopolised power for as long as anyone can remember. But this enduring construct, which may be described as “l'état, c'est nous”, is coming under increasing strain.
A wave of democratisation is not yet washing across the region (see table). The Arab League's 22 states remain the most uniformly oligarchic slice of the world. Not a single Arab leader has ever been peacefully ousted at the ballot box. Even sub-Saharan Africa does a lot better: there, no less than 18 regimes have bowed out, at the voters' behest, since 1990. Yet Arab countries face an unprecedented convergence of internal and external challenges that are likely to prompt sweeping change in the coming decade.
There are many reasons why this region has proved unusually resistant to popular empowerment of the kind that is transforming such places as eastern Europe, South-East Asia and Latin America. Many Middle Eastern states are still young. Their borders often reflect the imperatives of former European colonisers rather than local dispositions. So for the past 50 years, Arab states have devoted their energies to nation-building, an exercise that was seen to require political centralisation, the forced mobilisation of resources and the fabrication of new national identities to replace older affiliations.
This often meant, in practice, the creation of bureaucracies that became giant patronage networks; the appropriation, by the two-thirds of Arab countries that are rich in energy, of oil revenues by the central government; the suppression of minorities; and the promotion of a culture of obedience through a controlled press and education system. In many cases, such regimes were bolstered by the need to confront perceived external threats, for instance from Israel, or by the backing of foreign powers who wanted them as cold-war allies or energy suppliers. At the same time, a dramatically swelling population (the Arab League's has grown from 167m to 280m since 1980) and a flight from the countryside to the towns have disoriented societies and put yet another layer of dependency on the ruling class, whether it be princely families in the Gulf states or the close-knit associates of some despot in most Arab republics.
But now these equations are changing. Nation-building, in many Arab countries, is fairly complete. Few Tunisians or Egyptians or Omanis question their national identity or deny the prerogatives of their state. They would simply like more of a say in shaping policy. Even in Saudi Arabia, where regional and confessional strains persist, few citizens actually speak of seceding from the kingdom. Oppressive and bleak as the place may seem to outsiders, Saudis are by and large proud of their country. They are just rather tired of being told to kiss the royal hand that feeds them.
States versus nations
In other countries, nation-building, where the model presupposes uniformity, has been ineffective. Witness chronic unrest in Algeria's Kabylie region, recent rioting by Syria's 1m-plus Kurds, and the simmering loathing of many Lebanese for both their own entrenched political dynasties and for the mix of confessional partisanship and Syrian malingering that props them in place. And then there is Iraq, brutalised by Baathist rule and now in danger of being torn apart by rivalries of every stripe.
In any event, nearly all Arab countries are failing to meet the expectations of their now highly urbanised, better educated and politically aware people. A study by the Arab League says that in ten years the region could have 50m jobless youths, up from 15m today. Economic growth and productivity are low, scientific innovation almost zero. Centralised bureaucracies have had roads and schools built but have failed to spread wealth, channel investment efficiently or foster critical thought. They are good at policing but bad at providing even-handed justice.
The outside world has come to see these failures as dangerous to its own well-being. The fact, for example, that 51% of Arab youths say they want to emigrate, according to the UN's 2002 Arab Human Development Report, alarms Europeans. Islamist terrorism to many minds is a product of Arabs' frustration with their sense of disempowerment.
Arabs themselves now admit that something has gone very wrong and needs fixing. Even their governments admit it. No fewer than five of them forwarded reform plans to the Tunis summit. Yet few Arab citizens take their governments' commitment, such as it is, terribly seriously.
So citizens have taken, with increasing urgency, to declaring that the lack of democracy is the real root of their troubles. In the past few months, from Libya to Syria to Saudi Arabia to Egypt, opposition groups have issued petitions demanding a strikingly similar set of changes. A recent gathering of 150 prominent Arab intellectuals in Alexandria issued an endorsement of these main demands that was so resounding it could have been drafted by Thomas Jefferson. It calls for constitutional reforms to enshrine the separation of powers, free elections, free speech, freedom to form parties, administrative transparency and respect for fixed terms of office.
The impact of such initiatives has, to date, been minimal. Even in those countries where democratic progress has been made, it has been halting and feeble. Bahrain, for example, ended emergency laws and held elections in 2002, but only for half of its legislature's seats. Its four main opposition groups now demand fuller freedoms. Saudi Arabia promised elections for half the seats on municipal councils last year, a big step in a country with no democratic institutions of any kind. But nothing has yet been done to arrange such polls, supposedly due this year.
Yet governments cannot for long ignore the mounting pressures. Egypt, for example, is rife with rumours that President Hosni Mubarak will soon scrap the country's notorious emergency law and allow new political parties. That would be wise. The country is ripe for change; opposition forces, long divided and demoralised, now share a platform calling for democratic freedoms. If Egypt, the most populous Arab country, moves, others may well follow. Arab leaders may put off meeting each other, but they cannot forever avoid a reckoning with their own people.
Copyright © 2004 The Economist Newspaper and The Economist Group. All rights reserved.
Freedom calls, at last?
Apr 1st 2004 | CAIRO
From The Economist print edition
There's little political or even economic freedom at present, but the Arabs are starting to demand it
WHEN Tunisia cancelled a planned summit of Arab leaders it was to have hosted this week, the move's abruptness was not the only surprise. The Tunisians sniffed that they were scrapping the meeting because some of those invited didn't like an agenda that included a pledge to “consolidate democratic processes, protect human rights, and enhance the role of women and civil society”. The surprise lay in the fact that such reforms were on the agenda at all. There was also irony in the fact that Tunisia, one of the world's quieter but more complete dictatorships, should be posing as a champion of freedom.
There is a different word for it in every Arab country, but the principle is much the same. When Algerians speak of le pouvoir (power), Saudis “the family”, Egyptians al-hukm (“the decision”) and Lebanese their “political elite”, all describe a tight circle of people linked by shared background and common interests, who have monopolised power for as long as anyone can remember. But this enduring construct, which may be described as “l'état, c'est nous”, is coming under increasing strain.
A wave of democratisation is not yet washing across the region (see table). The Arab League's 22 states remain the most uniformly oligarchic slice of the world. Not a single Arab leader has ever been peacefully ousted at the ballot box. Even sub-Saharan Africa does a lot better: there, no less than 18 regimes have bowed out, at the voters' behest, since 1990. Yet Arab countries face an unprecedented convergence of internal and external challenges that are likely to prompt sweeping change in the coming decade.
There are many reasons why this region has proved unusually resistant to popular empowerment of the kind that is transforming such places as eastern Europe, South-East Asia and Latin America. Many Middle Eastern states are still young. Their borders often reflect the imperatives of former European colonisers rather than local dispositions. So for the past 50 years, Arab states have devoted their energies to nation-building, an exercise that was seen to require political centralisation, the forced mobilisation of resources and the fabrication of new national identities to replace older affiliations.
This often meant, in practice, the creation of bureaucracies that became giant patronage networks; the appropriation, by the two-thirds of Arab countries that are rich in energy, of oil revenues by the central government; the suppression of minorities; and the promotion of a culture of obedience through a controlled press and education system. In many cases, such regimes were bolstered by the need to confront perceived external threats, for instance from Israel, or by the backing of foreign powers who wanted them as cold-war allies or energy suppliers. At the same time, a dramatically swelling population (the Arab League's has grown from 167m to 280m since 1980) and a flight from the countryside to the towns have disoriented societies and put yet another layer of dependency on the ruling class, whether it be princely families in the Gulf states or the close-knit associates of some despot in most Arab republics.
But now these equations are changing. Nation-building, in many Arab countries, is fairly complete. Few Tunisians or Egyptians or Omanis question their national identity or deny the prerogatives of their state. They would simply like more of a say in shaping policy. Even in Saudi Arabia, where regional and confessional strains persist, few citizens actually speak of seceding from the kingdom. Oppressive and bleak as the place may seem to outsiders, Saudis are by and large proud of their country. They are just rather tired of being told to kiss the royal hand that feeds them.
States versus nations
In other countries, nation-building, where the model presupposes uniformity, has been ineffective. Witness chronic unrest in Algeria's Kabylie region, recent rioting by Syria's 1m-plus Kurds, and the simmering loathing of many Lebanese for both their own entrenched political dynasties and for the mix of confessional partisanship and Syrian malingering that props them in place. And then there is Iraq, brutalised by Baathist rule and now in danger of being torn apart by rivalries of every stripe.
In any event, nearly all Arab countries are failing to meet the expectations of their now highly urbanised, better educated and politically aware people. A study by the Arab League says that in ten years the region could have 50m jobless youths, up from 15m today. Economic growth and productivity are low, scientific innovation almost zero. Centralised bureaucracies have had roads and schools built but have failed to spread wealth, channel investment efficiently or foster critical thought. They are good at policing but bad at providing even-handed justice.
The outside world has come to see these failures as dangerous to its own well-being. The fact, for example, that 51% of Arab youths say they want to emigrate, according to the UN's 2002 Arab Human Development Report, alarms Europeans. Islamist terrorism to many minds is a product of Arabs' frustration with their sense of disempowerment.
Arabs themselves now admit that something has gone very wrong and needs fixing. Even their governments admit it. No fewer than five of them forwarded reform plans to the Tunis summit. Yet few Arab citizens take their governments' commitment, such as it is, terribly seriously.
So citizens have taken, with increasing urgency, to declaring that the lack of democracy is the real root of their troubles. In the past few months, from Libya to Syria to Saudi Arabia to Egypt, opposition groups have issued petitions demanding a strikingly similar set of changes. A recent gathering of 150 prominent Arab intellectuals in Alexandria issued an endorsement of these main demands that was so resounding it could have been drafted by Thomas Jefferson. It calls for constitutional reforms to enshrine the separation of powers, free elections, free speech, freedom to form parties, administrative transparency and respect for fixed terms of office.
The impact of such initiatives has, to date, been minimal. Even in those countries where democratic progress has been made, it has been halting and feeble. Bahrain, for example, ended emergency laws and held elections in 2002, but only for half of its legislature's seats. Its four main opposition groups now demand fuller freedoms. Saudi Arabia promised elections for half the seats on municipal councils last year, a big step in a country with no democratic institutions of any kind. But nothing has yet been done to arrange such polls, supposedly due this year.
Yet governments cannot for long ignore the mounting pressures. Egypt, for example, is rife with rumours that President Hosni Mubarak will soon scrap the country's notorious emergency law and allow new political parties. That would be wise. The country is ripe for change; opposition forces, long divided and demoralised, now share a platform calling for democratic freedoms. If Egypt, the most populous Arab country, moves, others may well follow. Arab leaders may put off meeting each other, but they cannot forever avoid a reckoning with their own people.
Copyright © 2004 The Economist Newspaper and The Economist Group. All rights reserved.