Democracy and Reform in the Middle East and Asia: Social Protest and Authoritarian Rule after the Arab Spring 9780755608638, 9781780768069

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Contributors

Amitav Acharya is the UNESCO Chair in Transnational Challenges and Governance at the School of International Service, American University, Washington, DC. Professor Acharya’s most recent books include: Whose Ideas Matter: Agency and Power in Asian Regionalism (Cornell, 2009); Non-Western International Relations Theory: Perspectives on and Beyond Asia (as co-editor, Routledge, 2010); and The Making of Southeast Asia: International Relations of a Region. The Quest for Identity (Cornell and Singapore Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2011). He has contributed articles to leading academic and policy journals, and made many appearances in international media. Shahram Akbarzadeh is Professor of Asian Politics (Middle East and Central Asia) at Melbourne University. He has an active research interest in the politics of Central Asia, Islam, Muslims in Australia and the Middle East. He is the author of Uzbekistan and the United States (Zed Books, 2005) and US Foreign Policy in the Middle East (with Kylie Baxter, Routledge, 2008). He has recently published an edited collection on America’s Challenge in the Greater Middle East (Palgrave Macmillan, 2011). Alan Chong is Associate Professor at the S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies in Singapore. He has published widely on the notion of soft power and the role of ideas in constructing the international relations of Singapore and Asia. He is the author of Foreign Policy in Global Information Space: Actualizing Soft Power (Palgrave, 2007). His publications have appeared in The Pacific Review; International Relations of the Asia-Pacific; Asian Survey; East Asia: An International Quarterly; Politics, Religion and Ideology; The Review of International Studies; and

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the Cambridge Review of International Affairs. He is currently working on several projects exploring the notion of ‘Asian international theory’. Greg Fealy holds a joint appointment as Associate Professor and Senior Fellow in the College of Asia and the Pacific, The Australian National University. He is the co-author of Joining the Caravan? The Middle East, Islamism and Indonesia (Longueville Media, 2005); Local Jihad: Radical Islam and Terrorism in Indonesia (Australian Strategic Policy Institute, 2005); and Zealous Democrats: Islamism and Democracy in Egypt, Indonesia and Turkey (Longueville Books, 2008). He is also co-editor of Soeharto’s New Order and Its Legacy (ANU Press, 2010); Expressing Islam: Religious Life and Politics in Indonesia (Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2008); and Voices of Islam in Southeast Asia: A Contemporary Sourcebook (Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2006). Baogang He is the author of The Democratization of China (Routledge, 1996); The Democratic Implication of Civil Society in China (Macmillan and St. Martin, 1997); Nationalism, National Identity and Democratization in China (with Yingjie Guo, Ashgate, 2000); Balancing Democracy and Authority: An Empirical Study of Village Election in Zhejiang (with Lang Youxing, Central China Normal University Press, 2002); Multiculturalism in Asia (with Will Kymlicka, Oxford University Press, 2005). Karima Laachir is a lecturer in Literary and Cultural Study in the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London. She is currently a visiting fellow at the Centre for Arab and Islamic Studies (CAIS). Her research interests include comparative postcolonial literature (Arabophone, Francophone and Anglophone); Arabic popular culture; literature of the North African diaspora; and Islamophobia and ethnic minorities in Europe, with a specific focus on France. She is co-editor of Resistance in Contemporary Middle Eastern Cultures: Literature, Cinema and Music (Routledge, 2012). Her forthcoming book is on North African Diaspora in France and the Politics of Cultural Production (2013). Kirill Nourzhanov is a senior lecturer at CAIS. He has an MA from Moscow State University and a PhD from the ANU. His main academic interests include politics, international relations and conflict resolution in contemporary Central Asia. His recent publications include ‘Mackinder



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on the Roof of the World: Contemporary Geopolitics of Tajikistan’, in Nick Megoran and Sevara Sharapova (eds), Halford Mackinder and the International Relations of Central Asia (Columbia University Press, 2012, pp. 102–20); ‘Omnibalancing in Tajikistan’s Foreign Policy: SecurityDriven Discourse of Alignment with Iran’, Journal of Balkan and Near Eastern Studies 14(3) (2012): pp. 363–81; and ‘International Democratic Norms and Domestic Socialization in Kazakhstan: Learning Processes of the Power Elite’, in Emilian Kavalski (ed.), Stable Outside, Fragile Inside? Post-Soviet Statehood in Central Asia (Ashgate, 2010, pp. 107–32). Amin Saikal is Professor of Political Science and Director of CAIS (the Middle East and Central Asia) at the Australian National University. His publications include: American Democracy Promotion in the Changing Middle East: From Bush to Obama (as co-editor, Routledge, 2013); Modern Afghanistan: A History of Struggle and Survival (as editor, I.B.Tauris, 2012); The Afghanistan Conflict: Australia’s Role (as editor, Melbourne University Press, 2011); The Rise and Fall of the Shah: Iran from Autocracy to Religious Rule (Princeton University Press, 2009); and Islam and the West: Conflict or Co-operation? (Palgrave Macmillan, 2003). Professor Saikal has also published many articles in international journals, as well as numerous feature articles in major international newspapers, including the International Herald Tribune, the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, the Guardian and the Globe and Mail. He is also a frequent commentator on radio and television. Mohammad Selim is Professor of Political Science at Cairo University and Kuwait University. His recent publications include: The ExtraRegional Environment of Egyptian-Iranian Relations: Opportunities and Risks (Center for Asian Studies of Cairo University, Asian Monographs series no. 46, October 2002); ‘Multi-lateralism, Globalization, and the Muslim World: Prospects for the Future’, in Syed Norurlzaman bin Syed Kamarulazman and Sharifah Alatas (eds), The Impact of Globalization on the Islamic World: Issues and Challenges in 21st Century (Institute of Diplomacy and Foreign Relations, 2002, pp. 177–90); ‘Towards a Viable Euro-Mediterranean Cultural Partnership’, in Stefania Panebianco (ed.), A New Euro-Mediterranean Cultural Identity (Frank Cass, 2003, pp. 165–78).

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Ramesh Thakur is Director of the Centre for Nuclear Nonproliferation and Disarmament and Professor of International Relations, Asia–Pacific College of Diplomacy, Australian National University. He was Vice Rector and Senior Vice Rector of the United Nations University (and Assistant Secretary-General of the United Nations) from 1998 to 2007; a commissioner and one of the principal authors of The Responsibility to Protect; Senior Adviser on Reforms and Principal Writer of the UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan’s second reform report; and Foundation Director of the Balsillie School of International Affairs in Waterloo, Ontario. His recent books include Global Governance and the UN: An Unfinished Journey (Indiana University Press, 2010) and The Responsibility to Protect: Norms, Laws and the Use of Force in International Politics (Routledge, 2011). Trevor Wilson holds positions at ANU as a visiting fellow on Myanmar in the Department of Political and Social Change and Project Manager at the Australia-Japan Research Centre. He comments and writes on Myanmar and has been co-convener of the Myanmar/Burma Update Conference for the ANU in 2004, 2006, 2007 and 2009. He edited the proceedings of the 2004 Update Conference as Myanmar’s Long Road to National Reconciliation (2006) and of the 2006 Update Conference as Myanmar: The State, Community and the Environment (2007). Samina Yasmeen is Director of the Centre for Muslim States and Societies and lectures in Political Science and International Relations in the School of Social and Cultural Studies, the University of Western Australia (UWA), Perth. She is the author of Understanding Muslim Identities: From Perceived Relative Exclusion to Inclusion (2008). As a specialist on politico-strategic developments in South Asia, Professor Yasmeen has focused on the role of Islamization in Pakistan’s domestic and foreign policy. Her current research focuses on the role of Islamic militant groups, their prescriptions for social and political structures for Muslim states, and the implications of these ideas for Pakistan’s stability and foreign policy. She is co-editor of Islam and the West: Reflections from Australia (2005) and has written numerous articles and given lectures on Islam and Muslims in Australia, developments in Pakistan and transnational Islam.

Preface

This book is the outcome of a collaborative project between CAIS (the Middle East and Central Asia) at the Australian National University, Canberra, and the UNESCO Chair in Transnational Challenges and Governance, and its network, Transnational Challenges and Emerging Nations Dialogue (TRANSCEND) at the School of International Service, American University, Washington, DC. The chapters were originally presented at a conference held in Canberra in December 2011. The project was undertaken with two main objectives. The first was to ascertain the background and key forces behind the Arab uprisings (known popularly as the ‘Arab Spring’) that must count as one of the most important events of the past decade. Such an analysis is especially valuable and timely given the rapid turn of events and how little such a turn of events was anticipated by the international community. A second goal of the project was to assess the cross-regional implications of the uprisings. Although they took place in the Arab states, the impact of the uprisings was felt well beyond the Arab world. Among the regions that are most affected by the uprisings is Asia, because in Asia issues of democratization and democracy remain alive and salient as a key factor in the region’s security and well-being as well as the globalization of democracy. To be sure, there were and remain important differences between the two regions. Unlike the Arab world, where before the Arab uprisings no country could claim to be a genuine democracy even in a loose sense of the term, Asia has had its share of fairly durable democracies, especially in Japan and India. More important, Asia has already witnessed several cases of transitions from authoritarian rule, especially in South Korea, Taiwan, Thailand, the Philippines and, more recently, Indonesia. Although many Asian countries are not paragons of liberal

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democracy, outright dictatorships in the region have fallen in number relative to the past and to democratic or semi-democratic governments. Even within authoritarian regime structures, Asia has seen more activity and change. For 30 years, the Mubarak regime had held onto power far longer than any regime in Asia under the same leader. In contrast, China and Vietnam regularly replace their top leadership before they become lightning rods for popular anger. In Malaysia and Singapore, despite their soft authoritarian tradition, the ruling parties have replenished their top leaders, Lee Kuan Yew in Singapore and Mahathir bin Mohamad in Malaysia. Another difference between the two regions is that authoritarian governments in Asia, with the exception of Burma and North Korea, enjoy an impressive economic record. Asia is home to larger and economically more successful states. While economic development can contribute to the forces demanding democratization, it can also give authoritarian regimes a modicum of ‘performance legitimacy’ and allow them to hold on to power. At the same time, however, Asia has no shortage of potential candidates for regime change, including the biggest of them all: China. Then there are also Vietnam and North Korea. Burma’s transition, despite all the hopes it has created, is far from assured. Moreover, in Asia, one can find examples of ‘people’s power’ uprisings that brought down longserving authoritarian rulers. These include the Philippines in 1986 and 2001, and Thailand in 2008, when protests ended the remnant of the Thaksin Shinawatra regime. Hence, there is always the possibility that the Arab uprisings might have a ‘snowballing effect’ in Asia. Egypt had already demonstrated that ‘snowballing effect’ from a state within the Arab world. After being ignited by the fall of Ben Ali’s regime in Tunisia, unrest in Egypt threatens to spread to other countries. Jordan and the Gulf states, Saudi Arabia included, are understandably nervous. But such snowballing has rarely happened in Asia. A few years ago, democratic change in Indonesia spurred ‘reformasi’ in Malaysia. Certainly, regimes in China and other parts of Asia were not oblivious to the contagion prospects. These are the issues that formed the initial rationale for the project. But a variety of other issues and questions outlined in the introduction have been addressed as well in this book. It is hoped that this book will not only offer a comparative perspective on democratization in Asia and



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the Arab world, but also throw up useful lessons for the policy-makers, activists and the international community as they deal with issues of democratization, political change and international order. The book brings together leading experts from the two regions. We had deliberately sought to invite experts who live and work in the Middle East and Asia-Pacific (including Australia) regions. This allows us to form an inside-out view of the Arab uprisings and their implications for Asia. The editors would like to thank the College of Arts and Social Sciences at the Australian National University (ANU) and the Australian Research Council for their financial support, the professional staff of CAIS (the Middle East and Central Asia) at ANU, Mrs Carol Laslett and Anita Mack for their generous and laborious input in handling the logistics of the original conference. They are also thankful to the Dean of the School of International Service, James Goldgeier, for providing financial and moral support for the project. Jonathan Cheng and Yahya Haider from the ANU, and Shanshan Mei and Goueun Lee from the American University, provided very valuable editorial assistance, for which the editors express their gratitude. Amin Saikal and Amitav Acharya

Introduction Democratizing the Neighbourhood – The Implications of the Arab Spring for the Middle East and Asia Amin Saikal and Amitav Acharya

The pro-democracy popular uprisings in the Arab world since early 2011 – in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Yemen, Jordan, Bahrain, Oman and Syria – are a defining moment in the history of the modern Middle East, and the post-Cold War international order. They began with the downfall of the Ben Ali government in Tunisia,1 and reached a major turning point with the departure of Hosni Mubarak as president of Egypt on 11 February 2011. The subsequent violent ouster of the Gaddafi regime in Libya was another landmark event and the ongoing strife in Syria ensures continued international attention to political change in the Middle East as a central issue in contemporary international relations. Although these events are often bracketed in popular discussions as the ‘Arab Spring’,2 the term is somewhat misleading. What we have seen is but a wide-ranging and complex phenomenon, with different elements and dynamics that have both common and divergent features. These range from a relatively quick and peaceful transfer of power to violent regime change aided by direct external intervention. Moreover, not all cases have led to regime change, despite initial predictions. For example, whilst Yemen’s dictator Ali Saleh has been forced out of office after three decades in power, his regime under his vice-president-cumpresident still remains very much intact. There are also differences in international responses to these events. Whereas the USA and its allies have publicly supported change in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya, and have backed the opposition’s bloody struggle against Bashar al-Assad’s regime in Syria, they have neither done the same in relation to Bahrain, nor have they called on other friendly Gulf Arab states, including Saudi Arabia, to implement serious political reforms. As a result, the Spring of

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Hope has clearly become a Winter of Discontent, at least in some cases. Another aspect of the complexity of the Arab uprisings, and one that this book is especially concerned about, is its contagion effect. The uprisings clearly have had a major impact not only in the different parts of the Middle East, itself a large and varied region, but also in other parts of the world, especially Asia, where governments and societies have reacted in different ways. But despite these variations, there is little doubt that the so-called Arab Spring and its aftermath have stimulated, and will continue to stimulate, important questions about the nature, causes and consequences of political change and democratic transitions in both academic and policy debates worldwide. For example, one key issue is whether these events are distinctive and region-specific, or whether they represent a new phase in what some writers have termed the ‘globalization of democracy’. More specifically, how do the causes and the lessons of the uprisings and changes in the Arab world compare with the lessons of the last wave of democratization that followed the break-up of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War, after the last ‘fourth wave’?3 To be sure, it is too early to call the uprisings a ‘wave’ of democratization. Even if regimes change in more countries, they may not be replaced by democratic regimes by Western standards, whether in Egypt or elsewhere. But what is already clear is that the current uprisings in the Arab world are different from the last ‘wave’ of democratization in one major respect. While the latter was driven mainly by extraneous events (or even a global event, i.e. the end of the Cold War and the collapse of the Soviet Union and its sphere of influence),4 the Arab world’s upheaval is a phenomenon from within or below, characterized by grassroots and indigenous mobilization. In addition, the current uprisings could trigger what would be the first region-wide democratization dynamic in an overwhelmingly Muslim region, raising many important questions about Islam and democracy. These are complex questions that will take much effort and debate to answer. But one might usefully begin with a look at some of the more specific questions that have been thrown into the public limelight by the events of the past two years. This volume is built around a number of such questions that arise from the Arab uprisings and their aftermath. Six questions are especially important to this volume: they not only form the rationale of the volume but also permeate through its various empirical chapters.



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The first concerns the immediate and long-term causes of the recent uprisings against authoritarian rule in the Middle East and North Africa. There are few common factors behind the uprisings, aside from the ‘contagion effect’, itself not new to the processes of political change and democratization. Many observers have noted that there are two common factors which led to the uprisings. The first factor was frustration with long authoritarian rule (in the case of Egypt, Tunisia, Libya, Syria and Jordan, the same person or family had held on to power for decades),5 while the second was the severe economic conditions apparent in many of these countries, where ruling regimes had neither dealt with corruption nor delivered on bringing economic benefits to the wider population.6 However, given that the argument is not causal and that many oil-rich Gulf states face similar tensions or uprisings, can we really say that authoritarianism or economic factors have been decisive? This issue is especially relevant to a wider debate in the literature on democratization: does economic growth and development lead to greater prospects for democratization? Or is it economic underdevelopment and crisis?7 What about Islam and Arab nationalism? There is not much evidence that Islamic radicalism is driving these uprisings, although this could change, especially during the political game of electing new governments. If there was a sense of nationalism, it is not the oldfashioned Arabism but the nationalism that is entwined with a craving for political change. It is not a purely visceral cultural nationalism. There is also the demographic factor behind these political uprisings, with huge numbers of unemployed youth becoming increasingly frustrated with their governments and taking to protest. Second, the Arab uprisings bring to the fore questions about the implications of democratization for regional peace and stability. Once again, this issue has been a major bone of contention in academic and policy circles; some argue that democratization breeds violence and war, but this proposition is not always supported by evidence and needs to be empirically validated. 8 The recent crisis in Egypt demonstrates that democratization can be relatively peaceful. But we need to differentiate between contexts and identify conditions that may help democratic transitions and do not lead to widespread violence and war – Egypt may not be the same as Syria.9 There is growing evidence in Africa that democratization also reduces incidences of violence – take, for example, Ghana, Benin or Togo.

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A closely related third question that the book addresses is the possible implications of breakdown of authoritarian rule and democratization for regional co-operation for peace and stability. Democratization can both strengthen and weaken regional institutions and co-operation.10 An authoritarian regime can develop close inter-personal links with fellow authoritarian neighbours, and create a framework of regionalism on the basis of regime security,11 as was evident in the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC), the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), and the Arab League. Hence, democratic transitions in a key authoritarian state or a group of like-minded illiberal states could disrupt processes of regional socialization and interaction. Democratization can facilitate intense nationalism, which might be channelled against neighbours. Political violence during democratization processes spills across borders in terms of refugee flows or asylum-seeking by members of the ousted political elite, as has already become evident in the case of Libya. All this can weaken existing regional institutions. On the other hand, the shock induced by a major political upheaval involving the collapse of authoritarian rule can be a wake-up call and lead longdormant regional organizations to come to life. Such a crisis can upstage traditional norms and approaches (such as non-interference in the domestic affairs of member states by the organization) and create an impulse towards regional democratic assistance. Democratic change can also strengthen regional co-operation by creating greater space for civil society (hence ‘people-to-people regionalism’ or participatory regionalism).12 Democratic regimes are also likely to adopt a more relaxed attitude towards the interlinked issues of sovereignty and nonintervention, facilitating greater respect for human rights and other norms of peaceful change sought and promoted by international civil society. These possible outcomes need to be examined carefully as the situation in the Arab world evolves. It will be important to monitor what impact these uprisings could have on regional groups such as the Arab League and GCC). The experience of ASEAN after the democratic ouster of Indonesian President Suharto in 1998 (which contrary to initial fears strengthened, not weakened, ASEAN), is an interesting point of reference. This leads directly to a fourth and closely related question: what should be the role of regional and subregional groups, such as ECOWAS, ASEAN and the Southern African Development Community (SADC)



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in anticipating and managing political change and crises arising from them?13 Many regional groups have developed norms and mechanisms for managing political change. Here, one might look at the lessons learnt from the Organization of American States (OAS) and the Southern Common Market (MERCOSUR),14 which have a significant history of ‘defending democracy’. The OAS’s Inter-American Democratic Charter, for example, is supposed to discourage, aside from military coups, backsliding by existing elected regimes towards more autocratic or militaristic forms of rule. Many of these regional groups also insist on democracy as a precondition for membership. ECOWAS and the African Union now show a greater engagement with civil society, having created specific protocols and conventions that seek to open, and which have opened, avenues for such engagement – allowing these groups to manage change. Furthermore, under ECOWAS’s Supplementary Protocol on Democracy and Good Governance, the grouping has announced its intent to deepen democratic norms (although in practice it often suffers from ‘reverses’). Indonesia’s Bali Democracy Forum provides an interesting example of democracy promotion ‘from within’ – through ideas and peaceful means – as opposed to democratic change from outside – through intervention and ‘regime change’ of the kind that the Bush administration practised in Iraq. The Bali Forum brings together established democracies like India and Australia, newer democracies like Indonesia, and authoritarian or semi-authoritarian regimes such as China and Myanmar. The focus is on inclusiveness, dialogue and mutual learning. This is the kind of effort the international community and donor countries should support. The fifth question arising from the Arab uprisings concerns the role of the international community – how does it respond to bottom-up democratization? This has been a matter of much debate over the past decades.15 But a number of developments, including the end of the Cold War, the 9/11 attacks and the US-led ‘war on terror’, the general spread of democracy around the world and the advent of new instruments, including new media tools, have changed the resources and approaches available to the international community in promoting democratization. Was the response of Western governments to the crisis and change in Egypt too little and too late, or was it measured and appropriate? What are the lessons for future crises? The major lesson of Egypt – one that differentiates it from the last wave of democratic transitions which was caused by the end of the Cold War and the collapse of the Soviet Bloc – is

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that it shows democratization can be a bottom-up process, driven by the people of a country and region concerned. The role of the international community can vary from case to case. In Egypt, it was largely indirect. The best contribution of the Obama administration to the change in Egypt was keeping its distance, letting the issue be perceived as a purely internal Egyptian affair (which it really was). American warnings against the use of force towards protestors might have had an effect on the Mubarak regime and the military, heavily dependent as both were on US foreign aid. The United States now faces tough choices over where and how to channel its economic and military aid. The same goes for Europe, where there was also a misreading of the desire for change and the gravity and support for the uprisings (for example, the French offered security forces to advise the Tunisian government). Neither the United Nations nor the European Union and African Union seemed to have played any major role. However, in the case of Libya, the international community was much more directly engaged, with the UN Security Council adopting the SC Resolution 1973 authorizing the establishment of a no-fly zone and the defending of the Libyan people by ‘whatever means’ within the application of ‘Responsibility to Protect’ (R2P) – a development which resulted in a bloody conflict in Libya. In short, while the international community was caught by surprise and seemed ill prepared for the events in the Middle East in general, its response to events has been helpfully context-specific and discriminating. Yet, Libya might end up proving to be an exception rather than the norm. Such intervention in Syria has been much less likely; indeed, some argue that the perception of exceeding the UN mandate from civilian protection to regime change might have made an international humanitarian intervention in Syria more difficult, if not outright impossible. There is thus a serious need for the international community to rethink its approach to democracy promotion in the developing world. This concerns not only responses to uprisings, but also to the more challenging process of replacing authoritarian regimes with genuine and sustainable democratic successors; such a process has only begun in Tunisia and Egypt. Some people, including former officials of the Bush administration, now claim that the uprisings vindicate Bush’s ‘democracy agenda’ in the Middle East, of which the invasion of Iraq in 2003 was an integral element. But this would be patently



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wrong. Bush imposed regime change from above, and through force, and his motive was revenge, rather than democracy. Moreover, the cases of Egypt, Libya and Syria thus far strengthen the case against a one-size-fits-all policy of ‘regime change’ or ‘democracy promotion’ or ‘democracy agenda’ in favour of a more flexible and carefully differentiated approach that takes into account the uniqueness of different conditions and contexts. The book also engages a sixth important issue concerning democratization arising from the Arab uprisings: the role of the media. The traditional balance (or ‘imbalance’) between Western media and media from the developing world may be changing. In Egypt, Al-Jazeera is widely believed to have played a major role in the uprising, even to the extent of overshadowing the Western media, whose role was somewhat controversial. Is the media a passive or neutral watcher, or is it partisan? If so, is the media partisan in favour of specific parties or agendas? Does the Western media (or, for that matter, Western governments and intelligence agencies) understand and anticipate the forces and demands for change? Can the media play a constructive role in the peaceful management of democratic transitions? These issues require further reflection and debate if we are to anticipate and respond appropriately and effectively to political change. To sum up, while the upheavals in the Arab world may or may not turn out to be a sustainable process of democratization, and may or may not amount to a ‘fifth wave’ of democratization, there are enough differences between these events and the earlier ‘waves’ to warrant at least a serious investigation. The uprisings in the Middle East may well render obsolete and supersede the much-vaunted debate between ‘the clash of civilizations’ thesis of Huntington on the one hand and ‘the end of history’ of Fukuyama on the other.16 If democracy really finds a solid foothold in the Arab world, then Huntington’s much-vaunted thesis can be consigned to the dustbins of history. If the political systems that ultimately emerge in the region differ significantly from one another due to the impact of local forces and in accordance with indigenous norms and traditions, then that will seriously question Fukuyama’s overarching thesis of a global democratic triumph. At the very least, the events in the Middle East question not only the ideologically charged policies of ‘regime change’, but also the accuracy and utility of grand narratives about history and politics.

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While the book deals with a wide range of questions and issues related to the Arab uprisings, a particular focus, one that justifies the title of this introduction, Democratizing the Neighbourhood, is on the regional dimensions. This can be seen in its exploration of the contagion effects. We define the region broadly, and contagion can be both intra-regional and inter-regional between the Arab world and East Asia, with South Asia providing a bridge. Some would say that this justifies considering a wider region of Asia to include western, southern and eastern components. Our focus on the regional dimension is also evident from the conscious attempt to study the effects of the Arab uprisings on regional instability and on the role of regional organizations and actors.

Chapters in the Volume The implications of the Arab Spring are best understood through various case studies of countries which have either been drivers of or been affected by the phenomenon. This volume draws on the knowledge and expertise of country and regional specialists to examine some of the questions raised above. In Chapter 1, Mohammad Selim provides an in-depth analysis of the ‘revolutions’ in Tunisia and Egypt, where the fall of Presidents Ben Ali and Mubarak respectively inspired populations in neighbouring countries and instigated the Arab Spring. Selim compares and contrasts the Tunisian and Egyptian experiences, arguing that Tunisia has actually ‘democratized’ much more effectively than Egypt. Selim asserts that in Tunisia, unlike in Egypt, the civilians (rather than the military) are leading the transition effort; the Islamists are more moderate, and the elite are relatively united (rather than fragmented). Nonetheless, Selim claims that the countries share a number of problematic concerns obstructing effective democratization, including a lack of effective national consensus, stalling economies, the difficulty of creating new political systems and Salafi ‘extremists’. Democratization will be a gradual process in both countries. The impact of the Arab Spring on Morocco and Algeria, two countries in the region which arguably have been the least affected, is the subject of Chapter 2 by Karima Laachir. While both countries in many ways share the same political and socio-economic conditions which spurred on



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‘revolutions’ in Tunisia and Egypt, Laachir claims that Morocco’s relative political stability and Algeria’s violent history constrained widespread uprisings. Elites in both countries responded quickly to protests by implementing cosmetic constitutional reforms, and have effectively put ‘democratization’ on hold. In Chapter 3, Ramesh Thakur addresses the thorny question of international intervention in Libya and R2P. Thakur examines the origin and evolution of R2P and its role in the NATO decision to intervene in Libya. The removal of Colonel Gaddafi from power in Libya under the auspices of R2P reflected the success and consolidation of the latter as an international norm, where the international community showed its ability to deploy military force as a barrier between a tyrant and his victims. However, it also raised significant questions over the nature of R2P implementation, with various countries – such as Russia and China – criticizing NATO’s ‘overstepping’ in Libya. Thakur suggests that we need an open discussion on R2P between critics and supporters, given that the norm will most likely be implemented against non-Western countries in the future. We then turn to Chapter 4 covering Afghanistan and Iraq, two countries which were subjected to top-down, foreign-induced change rather than bottom-up processes. Here, Amin Saikal contends that the Afghan and Iraqi experiences illustrate the pitfalls of foreign-induced democratic transitions. Both countries look likely to become only ‘electoral’ democracies (rather than ‘substantive’ democracies) at best, and volatile and unstable polities at worst. Both countries have identities that are historically deeply tangled with Islam and authoritarian rule, are socially and ethnically divided, have been subjected to inappropriate and unco-ordinated postwar state-building, and are affected by complex regional geopolitics. Saikal claims that these issues have led to ineffectual elites and dysfunctional governmental systems in both countries. In Chapter 5, Shahram Akbarzadeh looks at the conflicting effects of the Arab Spring in Iran. While at first Iran was able to claim that the Arab Spring validated its worldview, through the toppling of pro-US leaders in Tunisia and Egypt and revolts in many conservative regimes (e.g. Bahrain, Jordan and Kuwait), the spread of unrest to Libya, and, more importantly, Iran’s critical ally Syria, undermined Iran’s argument. The Arab Spring challenged Iran’s binary worldview of ‘believers’ versus ‘disbelievers’. Instead of looking to Iran as an example, the new moderate

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Islamist governments have turned to Turkey’s Justice and Development Party (AKP) as a role model. Through highlighting the Shi‘i–Sunni sectarian division in the region, the Arab Spring has also significantly weakened Iran’s soft power and influence. Kirill Nourzhanov highlights in Chapter 6 the indifference of Central Asian elites and populations to the Arab Spring. Totalitarian regimes and weak political oppositions militated against any ‘spill-over’ effect. Nourzhanov notes, however, that Central Asian elites have picked up on a number of important lessons from the Arab Spring, as illustrated in the discourse and narratives propagated by these elites: external involvement; the need to expedite economic growth and address social justice; and dealing with ‘new media’. Whether or not these elites implement gradual political reform, however, is unlikely to affect expected relative stability in the short term. Chapter 7, by Samina Yasmeen, looks at the likely effect of the Arab Spring on Pakistan, a country which often sees itself more in the Middle East than Asia. Yasmeen argues that a ‘revolution’ is unlikely in Pakistan, given the manipulation of the Arab Spring message by various elites for their own interests and diversified public perceptions of the phenomenon, even in the context of extreme inequality and economic despair in the country. Significant fragmentation within Pakistani politics has led to the carving out of ‘areas of influence’ by political parties and groups and, if anything, will more likely lead to a series of ‘mini-revolutions’ for disparate objectives rather than a nation-wide uprising against the current corrupt and ineffective political system. From Chapter 8 onwards, we turn to the implications of the Arab Spring for Southeast and East Asia. The specific but crucial test case of the Arab Spring’s demonstration effect is taken up by Baogang He in Chapter 8. This chapter explores the Chinese responses to the Arab Spring through identifying three categories of government response – discourse, political and managerial – and a fourth category: that of the citizens. He argues that the Chinese government has developed a form of societal control that balances the use of coercion with more ‘friendly’ and ‘civilized’ ways of dealing with dissidents, and balances limited political reform with tightening control. Nonetheless, He claims that citizen activism is on the rise. As a result of the Arab Spring, Chinese activists have developed distinctive new strategies and tactics for activism by using social media, direct action, petitioning and the law.



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Activism in general has become more individualized and focused on legitimate interests, and operates mostly as an internal critique within the bounds of official discourse. Overall, He maintains that it is unclear where this new-found activism will lead. In Chapter 9, Trevor Wilson dives into the complexity of Myanmar. Long controlled by an autocratic military and marginalized by the international community, Myanmar has undergone remarkable democratic change in the last few years. Wilson explores how the violence of the Arab Spring has reinforced the will and drive of Burmese elites towards democratization, even though the Burmese democratization process occurred entirely independently of the ‘Spring’. By implementing democratization from the top, elites are seeking to control the process and instil some form of ‘disciplined democracy’. As Wilson explains, Myanmar still faces many hurdles in its journey, but the outlook for democratization continues to be bright. Alan Chong investigates the ‘contagion’ effect of the Arab Spring on Malaysia and Singapore in Chapter 10. These two countries are important because while they have the vestiges of an electoral democracy, in reality they have been one-party states. Chong uses the term ‘electronic vicariousness’ to describe the effect of Information and Communications Technology (ICT) – e.g. Facebook and Twitter – on the discourse and debate surrounding events in the Arab Spring in both countries. Being comparatively free of government control, the online media has offered an avenue for Singaporeans and Malaysians to vent against their respective governments, albeit in the context of the Arab Spring. Nonetheless, and as Chong argues, this has only resulted in democratic empathy rather than outright support of regime change – in other words, it is unclear as to whether the Arab Spring has made any sort of impact on the politics of either country. In Chapter 11, Greg Fealy addresses the impact – or lack thereof – of the Arab Spring on Indonesia. Fealy outlines the disconnection between the Indonesian and Arab experiences of democratization, and Indonesia’s frustration at its continued marginalization on the sidelines of the Islamic political community (even though it is the most populous and, one could argue, the most successful Muslim country of recent decades). Fealy argues that the perceived cultural and historical asymmetry between the Middle East and Southeast Asia continues to restrict any form of Indonesian ‘influence’ on democratization in Arab states. At the

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same time, Indonesia remains focused on regional issues in Southeast Asia, and the Arab Spring has had little if any discernible impact on its domestic politics or conduct of foreign affairs. Overall, then, the Arab Spring and its aftermath call for a fundamental re-evaluation of why and how political transitions, especially transitions from authoritarian rule, take place, and how the international community should respond to them. Although it is too early to make definitive generalizations, it is timely and imperative that we monitor these events carefully and closely for their implications for our understanding of political change and democratization, and their consequences. A special strength of this volume is its comparative approach, straddling the Arab world, South Asia, Southeast Asia and China. Moreover, it brings together a number of country specialists from both the Middle East and Asia, with each of them dealing with their own countries and areas of expertise. Through such an approach, this book hopes to overcome the deficiencies of the quick and outsider-in analyses of the Arab Spring offered by Western media and pundits.

Notes 1 Amin Saikal, ‘Similarities between Iranian and Tunisian Revolts cannot be ignored’, Sydney Morning Herald, 17 January 2011. 2 In this chapter and the rest of the book, we keep the term ‘Arab Spring’, mainly as a term of convenience, but we thought it important to make it clear that we recognize its complexity and the diversity among the different cases. 3 There is a vast literature on democratization’s different ‘waves’, and the so-called globalization of democracy. A selective sample would include: Samuel P. Huntington, The Third Wave: Democratization in the Late Twentieth Century, Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991; Dankwart A. Rustow, ‘Democracy: A global revolution?’, Foreign Affairs 69(4), 1990, pp. 75–91; Terry Lynn Karl and Philippe C. Schmitter, ‘Democratization around the globe: Opportunities and risks’, in M. Klare and D. Thomas (eds), World Security: Challenges for a New Century, New York, 1994, pp. 43–62; Larry Diamond, ‘The globalization of democracy’, in R. Slator, B. Schultz and S. Dorr (eds), Global Transformation and the Third World, Boulder, CO, 1993, pp. 31–68; Doh Chull Shin, ‘On the third wave of democratization: A synthesis of recent theory and research’, World Politics 47(1), 1994, pp. 135–70. Major contributions to Third Wave theory include: Guillermo O’Donnell, Philippe Schmitter and Lawrence Whitehead (eds), Transitions From Authoritarian Rule: Comparative Perspectives, Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1986; Juan Linz, ‘Transitions to democracy’, Washington Quarterly 13(3), 1990, pp. 143–64.



Introduction

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4 See Amitav Acharya, ‘Is democracy best?’, Asiaweek, 23 October 1998, p. 80; Amitav Acharya, ‘Southeast Asia’s democratic moment? The impact of the Asian economic crisis on human rights and democratisation’, Asian Survey 39(3), 1999, pp. 418–32. 5 Amitav Acharya, ‘The Cairo Connection’, Times Of India, 21 February 2011, available at: http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/home/opinion/edit-page/The-Cairo-connection/ articleshow/7534686.cms, accessed 17 March 2011; for background analysis, see Amin Saikal, Islam and the West: Conflict or Cooperation?, London: Palgrave MacMillan, 2003, Ch. 5. 6 For a wider discussion of these and related issues across the Arab world and Iran, see Amin Saikal and Albrecht Schnabel (eds), Democratization in the Middle East: Experiences, Struggles, Challenges, New York: United Nations, 2003. 7 On the debate on the linkage between economic development and democracy see Larry Diamond, ‘Economic development and democracy reconsidered’, American Behavioral Scientist 35(4–5), 1992; John Helliwell, ‘Empirical linkages between democracy and economic growth’, British Journal of Political Science 24(2), 1994, pp. 225–48; Carlos H. Waisman, ‘Capitalism, the market, and democracy’, in G. Marks and L. Diamond (eds), Reexamining Democracy: Essays in Honour of Seymour Martin Lipset, Newbury Park: Sage Publications, 1992, pp. 140–55. For this argument in the Asian context, see Don Emmerson, ‘A virtuous spiral? Southeast Asian economic growth and its political implication’, in G.T. Yu (ed), Asia’s New World Order, Washington Square, NY: University Press, 1997; Harold Crouch and James Morley (eds), Driven by Growth: Political Change in the Asia-Pacific Region, Armonk, NY: ME Sharpe, 1993, pp. 277–309. For an argument that economic crisis, rather than economic growth and development, can trigger democratization, see, Acharya: ‘Southeast Asia’s democratic moment? The impact of the Asian economic crisis on human rights and democratisation’, pp. 418–32. 8 The best known among those who argue that democratization can lead to greater interstate and domestic conflict are: Edward D. Mansfield and Jack Snyder, ‘Democratisation and the danger of war’, International Security 20(1), 1995, pp. 5–38; Edward D. Mansfield and Jack Snyder, ‘Democratic transitions, institutional strength, and war’, International Organization 56(2), 2002, pp. 297–337. For a critique of the Snyder and Mansfield thesis and empirical data, see, Vipin Narang and Rebecca M. Nelson, ‘Who are these belligerent democratizers? Reassessing the impact of democratisation on war’, International Organization 63(2), 2009, pp. 357–80. For a critique and empirical rebuttal of the Mansfield and Synder thesis with particular reference to Asia, see Amitav Acharya, ‘Democracy or death? Will democratisation bring greater regional instability to East Asia?’, Pacific Review 23(3), 2010, pp. 335–58. 9 See Amin Saikal, ‘Authoritarianism, revolution and democracy: Egypt and beyond’, Australian Journal of International Affairs (forthcoming). 10 Amitav Acharya, ‘Democratisation and the prospects for participatory regionalism in Southeast Asia’, Third World Quarterly 24(2), 2003, pp. 375–90. 11 Amitav Acharya, ‘Regionalism and regime security in the Third World: Comparing the origins of the ASEAN and the GCC’, in B. Job (ed.), The (In)security Dilemma: National Security of Third World States, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1991, pp. 143–64. 12 One prominent example can be found in Western Africa, where greater democratization has led to the establishment of a region-wide CSO organization called the West Africa

14

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14 15

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Democracy and Reform in the Middle East and Asia Civil Society Forum (WACSOF), which aims to deepen shared norms and values, complimenting the state-centric regionalism that usually develops under autocratic rulers. An earlier attempt to study this question can be found in ‘International organizations and democracy’, Editorial of Journal of Democracy 4(3), 1993. The issue contains several articles dealing with the role of international and regional organizations in promoting democracy. In 2008, the Union of South American Nations (UNASUR) was formed through the integration of MERCOSUR and the Andean Community of Nations (CAN). See, for example, Lawrence E. Harrison, ‘Nurturing democracy abroad’, Freedom Review 22(5), 1991, pp. 42–4; William J. Barnds, ‘Democracy, human rights and U.S. Policies’, Freedom Review 22(5), 1991, pp. 27–31; Benjamin Bassin, ‘Development and democracy in the aid relationship’, in U. Kirdar and L. Silk (eds), A World Fit for People, New York: New York University Press, 1994, pp. 114–25; Laurence Whitehead, ‘International aspects of democratization’, in S. O’Donnell and L. Whitehead (eds), Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Comparative Perspectives, Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1986, pp. 3–46; Larry Diamond, ‘Promoting democracy’, Foreign Policy 87 (Summer 1992), pp. 25–46; Thomas Carothers, Aiding Democracy Abroad: The Learning Curve, Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for Peace, 1999; Peter Burnell, Promoting Democracy Abroad: Policy and Performance, New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 2011. Samuel P. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order, New York: Simon and Schuster, 1996; Francis Fukuyama, The End of History and the Last Man, New York: Free Press, 1992.

CHAPTER 1

Where Have All the Democratic Expectations Gone? Tunisia and Egypt in Comparative Perspective Mohammad Selim1

Introduction Tunisia and Egypt were the pioneers of the current wave of democratic change in the Arab world. The wave began in Tunisia on 17 December 2010, and as soon as it achieved its first goal of overthrowing Ben Ali on 14 January 2011, the Egyptians followed their Tunisian counterparts by instigating their own attempt to bring about democratic change. On 11 February 2011, the sweeping Egyptian protests forced Mubarak to resign. Although similar revolutions broke out in Yemen, Libya and Syria, the Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions remained unique in the sense that they were the first to break down the barriers of fear that stood between the people and their rulers, and were mainly peaceful revolutions despite the violence with which they were met by the falling regimes. Other revolutions, however, were not as peaceful in terms of the violent crackdown by the authorities on large-scale mobilizations of protestors. Further still, the Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions ousted their respective head of state, a major target of the protests, in less than a month. Elsewhere on the map of the Arab Spring, the revolutions dragged on for months, with no sign of the despotic rulers stepping down. The Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions have already brought about formidable political change to their countries. One of the main features of modern Arab politics has been, so to speak, the death of politics, which became the monopoly of a corrupt elite class. This elite class invariably argued that reform should be economic first, then political. In reality, however, neither type of reform was achieved, and economic

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reform became a cover for selling off national assets. The current wave of democratic change in the Arab world made ordinary people central actors on the political scene; younger generations are now well and truly engaged in politics. Even the Salafi fundamentalists and the Sufi spiritualists, traditionally distanced from politics, have now formed their own political parties and are well entrenched in the political process. The Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions were unique in yet another way. The revolutionaries who initiated the political change in both countries did not assume a leading role in the transitional period following the overthrow of the old regimes. Ironically, elements of the old regimes assumed these tasks. For the first time, we witnessed a period of democratic transition being designed and implemented by actors who were part and parcel of the old dictatorships. This has complicated the task of democratization in both countries, though to a lesser extent in Tunisia than in Egypt. Having said that, and compared to Egypt, the Tunisian road to democratization was shorter, and relatively more successful.2 Ever since the ousting of Ben Ali, comparisons between Tunisia and Egypt have not ceased. The first comparison took place between 14 and 25 January – that is, between the fall of Ben Ali and the outbreak of the Egyptian revolution. It revolved around the question of whether the events that occurred in Tunisia would also occur in Egypt. While Mubarak’s critics predicted that the impact of the Tunisian revolution would be felt in Egypt due to social and economic pressures,3 his loyalists, on the other hand, adamantly argued that ‘Egypt was different from Tunisia as each society had its own means of managing its crises’, and ‘that Egypt had more freedom of speech which can act as a safety valve against a possible replay of the Tunisian scenario’.4 Comparisons between Egypt and Tunisia continued after the fall of Mubarak on 11 February, with speculations on whether the perceived success of the Tunisian-style course to democracy would be echoed in Egypt. Some analysts argued that the Egyptian and Tunisian experiences were similar in many respects, and the relative success of the Tunisian revolution would affect the process in Egypt.5 Others, however, argued that Egypt was qualified to press ahead of Tunisia in terms of democratic transformation due to unique qualities that may be summarized in the following three points:



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1. The margin of freedom in Egypt under Mubarak was wider than in Tunisia under Ben Ali, enabling Egyptian Islamist parties to enter into political coalitions with other political forces – facilitating post-revolution democratization. 2. Whereas Ben Ali fled Tunisia, the Egyptians arrested Mubarak and put him and his top aides on trial. 3. In Tunisia, it was the former speaker of the parliament who became the interim president during the transitional era, whereas in Egypt it was the Supreme Council for the Armed Forces (SCAF) that assumed control of the country.6 These supposed qualities were controversial nonetheless. In fact, other analysts have considered these points to favour the Tunisian side over Egypt. For example, one analyst argued that Tunisia was blessed by Ben Ali’s departure, which left the latter’s close associates in a powerless state. In Egypt, however, Mubarak did not leave the country, thus providing his associates with some hope of a political comeback.7 A different theoretical approach by analysts was to focus on the similarities between Tunisia and Egypt. According to them, the principal elements shared by the two revolutionary experiences were: the dominance of the Islamist-secular polarization; the ban on Islamist groups during the reign of the old regimes which was turned into a major comeback after their fall; and the security vacuum following the revolution. There were, in tandem with these commonalities, some differences, the most important of them being the neutrality of the military in the post-revolutionary political process in Tunisia compared with Egypt. Also, in Tunisia, most of the politicians of the old regime were still active in post-revolutionary politics, compared with Egypt where they had almost vanished – at least at the official level.8 Another group of analysts contended that the road to democracy in Tunisia was more effective and less controversial than in Egypt.9 On 25 November 2011, Al-Jazeera satellite channel devoted its daily programme, Behind the News, to the topic of ‘Tunisia and Egypt: One revolution progresses and the other stumbles’.10 The main conclusion the panellists arrived at in the programme was that the Egyptian revolution was not progressing along the lines of the Tunisian revolution which preceded it. An Egyptian columnist also exhibited a similar sentiment arguing that ‘the Tunisian revolution was implementing many of

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its objectives, and its achievements were immediately seen. It was proceeding on the path of fulfilling its goals in a democratic and direct fashion. In Egypt, [however,] the revolution was still suffering from delays in achieving its objectives in a concrete way that would be felt by the average citizen in the street’.11 Another Islamist columnist wrote an article entitled ‘The correct answer comes from Tunisia’, in which he argued that the Tunisians have presented a credible model which ought to be pursued by the Egyptians.12 The dominant perception among Egyptian analysts has been that Tunisia is progressing more quickly than Egypt on the path to democratization. This leads to the main inquiry in this chapter, which is: how do we account for the fact that the Egyptian path to democratization has been lagging behind its Tunisian counterpart, bearing in mind the fact that the Tunisian and Egyptian experiences were interrelated and occurred almost simultaneously? In the process of my inquiry I shall raise the following questions: 1. What were the main features of the Tunisian and Egyptian paths to democratization? 2. What were the main obstacles and mistakes that resulted in the relative delay in the democratic process in Egypt compared with Tunisia? 3. What are the main challenges which confront the processes of democratization in Tunisia and Egypt? 4. What are the main future trends in both countries with regard to the role of Islam and the military in the future political system? 5. What are the main features of the likely future models of development? These questions do not intend to suggest that the Tunisian path went without problems or that it has reached the point of complete success. They only indicate that while both paths have encountered major hurdles, the Tunisian revolution has been more effective in dealing with them. This chapter argues that the divergent outcomes of the Tunisian and Egyptian courses to democratic change were determined by certain leading factors, the most significant of them being: the specific historical legacies of Egypt and Tunisia; the type of leadership which assumed the transitional task of democratization in the two countries; elite



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fragmentation in Egypt compared with Tunisia; the nature of the public discourse of the Islamists in Tunisia and Egypt; and, finally, the electoral laws introduced in Egypt and Tunisia to pave the way for democratization. I will start by tracing the key junctures of the Tunisian and Egyptian pathways towards democratic transformation, beginning from the moment their respective regimes were overthrown. Then I will account for the divergent outcomes of the two countries in an attempt to answer the research questions mentioned above. The chapter will conclude with a delineation of the possible future trends on the road to democratic change in Tunisia and Egypt.

The Tunisian Path to Democratization The Tunisian revolution achieved its first major goal when Ben Ali fled the country on 14 January 2011 due to a combination of pressure from the masses and the anti-government, pro-people stance of the military establishment. Following Ben Ali’s departure, a state of emergency was declared. Shortly after, the Constitutional Court announced Fouad Mebazaa as acting president under Article 57 of the Constitution. A caretaker coalition government was also created, which placed members of Ben Ali’s party and the Constitutional Democratic Rally (RCD) in key ministerial positions. Other opposition affiliates were assigned to the minor ministries and elections were set to take place within 60 days. However, the political climate entered a troubled phase when five newly appointed non-RCD ministers resigned almost immediately, and daily street protests continued unabated. This time, protestors demanded that the new government should keep out all members of the RCD and, even further, that the RCD itself be disbanded. On 27 January, Muhammad Ghannouchi, then acting prime minister, reshuffled the government and removed all former RCD members, with the exception of himself as an ex-RCD affiliate. On 6 February, due to security concerns, the new Interior Minister suspended all party activities of the RCD. And, on 27 February, following further public protests, Ghannouchi resigned, and Beji Caid el Sebsi replaced him as acting prime minister. Finally, in March 2011, the RCD was dissolved.13

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A High Commission for the Realization of Revolution Objectives, Political Reform, and Democratic Transition (referred to hereafter as the ‘High Commission’) was formed and tasked with amending the legal framework that ensures free, fair and pluralistic presidential elections. The commission was made up of 71 (increased later to 131) independent legal and political experts alongside judges and legal experts. It also consulted closely with political parties and civil society organizations. The commission outlined several possible post-revolutionary courses of action: to hold presidential elections (whereby the president dissolves parliament and organizes legislative elections); to hold presidential and legislative elections simultaneously; or to form a committee to draft a new constitution, which would be put to a national referendum. Acting President Mebazaa announced on 3 March that the latter course would be adopted, setting in motion a process that entailed holding elections to form a Constituent Assembly on 24 July, a date that was later postponed to 23 October. This Constituent Assembly would elect the interim president and prime minister until the constitution was written and approved. Following this, popular elections were set to take place in order to vote for a permanent president and legislative body. The first meeting of the High Commission took place on 17 March, in which members discussed the draft laws for the election of the Constituent Assembly. The commission played a central role in drafting these laws and on 18 April created the Independent Higher Electoral Commission, to supervise the elections in October. In this regard, Tunisia was different from Egypt, where the military controlled and directed the process of drafting electoral laws, a process which was met with a strong public outcry and seen as a step towards the reinstatement to power of the old political factions. Under the auspices of the High Commission, 11 political parties signed on 16 September ‘The Declaration on the Transitional Path’. The Declaration was a set of principles which proclaimed that elections for a national Constituent Assembly would be held on 23 October, and that the assembly would be responsible for writing the new constitution. The aim of the new constitution was to establish a balance between the three components of government.14 The voting system for the Constituent Assembly allocated seats through the adoption of proportional representation (PR) within various



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multi-member districts on closed party lists. New rules mandated that all party lists were required to alternate between male and female candidates. Almost 11,000 candidates (in a nation of almost 10 million people), spread among 1,500 party lists, ran in these elections – competing to win 217 seats in the assembly. Almost 90 per cent of eligible voters – an overwhelming percentage – voted in the October election. The election resulted in the Al-Nahda Islamist party winning 89 seats with 39 per cent of the vote, the Congress for the Republic (CPR) winning 29 seats with 8.4 per cent, Al-Aridha winning 26 seats with 6.3 per cent, and Al-Takattol winning 20 seats with 6.3 per cent. A total of 18 of the 217 Constituent Assembly members represented Tunisians residing abroad. An estimated 1 million Tunisians reside overseas, with over 500,000 of them living in France. Polling took place in 80 countries around the world, and Tunisian expatriates elected ten representatives from France alone; three for Italy; one for Germany; two for North America and the rest of Europe; and two for the other Arab states. Before the convening of the first session of the Constituent Assembly on 22 November, Al-Nahda, the CPR and Al-Takattol reached an unofficial agreement according to which Moncef Marzouki, the leader of CPR, would become the interim president of Tunisia; Mustafa bin Jafar, the leader of Al-Takattol, the interim speaker of the assembly; and Hamadi Al-Jebali, secretary-general of Al-Nahda, the interim prime minister.15 On 10 December, the Constituent Assembly adopted the Law on the Interim Organization of Public Powers which served as an interim constitution, and which was to stay in force until the adoption of a permanent constitution. This document set out the procedures and regulations of the exercise of executive, legislative and judicial powers during the interim period. Political power was to be concentrated in the office of the interim prime minister, which clearly raised Al-Jebali’s interest in the post. On 12 December, the Constituent Assembly elected Marzouki as president of the Republic and, on 14 December, Marzouki, as per the unofficial agreement, appointed AlJebali as prime minister. These appointments then triggered the process of drafting the new constitution.

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The Egyptian Path to Democratization Compared with Tunisia, the Egyptian path to democratization was slower and marked with an air of tension and violence. On 11 February 2011, Mubarak stepped down under mass public and international pressure, entrusting the country’s leadership to SCAF. Headed by Field Marshal Al-Tantawi, formerly minister of defence under Mubarak, SCAF was a body consisting of 20 senior and high-ranking officers in the Egyptian military. It also included the service heads and other senior commanders of the Egyptian armed forces. According to the 1971 Egyptian constitution, Mubarak’s yielding of power to SCAF was illegal. The constitution stipulated that in the event where the president is not able to perform his or her duties, the Speaker of the House of Parliament would take over, and if the latter is unable to do so, the chairman of the Constitutional Court would assume the position of president until a new one is elected. Nevertheless, and despite the fact that SCAF had allowed Mubarak’s loyalists to attack protesters in Tahrir Square on 2 February in what would later be known as the ‘Battle of the Camel’, revolutionaries accepted SCAF’s rule. According to the transitional arrangement, SCAF was to perform two functions. First was the traditional function of drafting and implementing strategies to maintain Egypt’s military security and, secondly, maintaining the political administration of the country. This was the first time since Gamal Abdel Nasser’s 1952 coup that army generals played a direct role in the political system. On 12 February, SCAF issued a statement announcing its intention to suspend emergency law which had been in place for three decades. It also proposed a move towards free and fair presidential elections, and to maintain a safe transition to a free democratic order. On 13 February, SCAF issued its first constitutional declaration in which it dissolved Egypt’s parliament and suspended the 1971 Constitution. It also declared that it would remain in power for six months or until elections were held. SCAF also retained the government of General Ahmad Shafiq, the last government appointed by Mubarak, but, under mass public pressure, the latter had to be replaced on 3 March with a government headed by Essam Sharaf. On 14 February, SCAF formed an eight-member committee to introduce amendments to seven articles in the 1971 constitution. The



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committee was headed by Tariq El-Bishry, a former judge and Islamist who had publicly vowed to turn Egypt into an ‘Islamic state’. Sobhi Saleh, a leading attorney in the Ikhwan (Muslim Brotherhood), and Atef Al-Banna, known as a pro-Ikhwan jurist, were also members in that committee. The rest of the members were professional jurists, and no representation from other political forces was present. The committee drafted 11 amendments, most important of which being the provision that elections would be held to form a new parliament, and that the elected parliament would be entrusted with the task of forming a committee to draft the new constitution of Egypt. This amendment was widely supported by the Ikhwan as they thought they would get the majority of seats in the new parliament, eventually making them the deciding factor in drafting the new constitution. This was one reason the amendments were met with criticism from the revolutionary forces, who called for the process to be reversed, and to draft the constitution first on the basis of national consensus, before proceeding to parliamentary and presidential elections. There were even calls to follow the Tunisian model – that is, electing a ‘constitutional committee’ to draft the new constitution – but SCAF rushed the draft amendments to a referendum, set to take place on 19 March. The Islamist forces turned the referendum into a referendum on the status of Islam in Egypt, propagating that to vote ‘Yes’ would mean a vote for Islam. Voices from some Salafi movements called the referendum ‘the battle of the ballot boxes’, likening the struggle around the referendum to the battles of early Islamic history. The amendments were approved by a majority of 77 per cent. However, the vote signalled, for the first time since 25 January, a crucial division among the Egyptian people; the Islamists voted for the amendments and the majority of the Copts and the Liberal bloc voted against. The referendum mandated that SCAF would maintain the status of the current 1971 Constitution. Instead, on 30 March, they surprised the Egyptian public by issuing a new Constitutional Declaration in which some of the amendments approved in the referendum were abandoned. The Liberals argued that the Declaration had nullified the referendum and called for the so-called ‘Constitution first’ strategy. Islamist forces (Ikhwan and Salafis) insisted that the 19 March referendum was beyond a shadow of a doubt of almost a sacred nature, and threatened the unconvinced Liberal forces with ‘unbearable consequences’. They argued

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that the strategy of ‘Constitution first’ contradicted the choice of the people as had been expressed in the 19 March referendum. On 28 March, SCAF issued the Law of Political Parties, which was intended to ease restrictions on the formation of new political parties. The law stipulated that political parties could be formed given that they were not based on sectarian, religious or geographical bases, and consisted of at least 1,000 members spread among no less than ten governorates. The law also mandated that would-be founders of new parties were now required to formally notify the Commission of Political Parties of their plans. If the party did not receive objections from the commission within 90 days, it would be allowed to operate. Although the law was hailed as a step towards the liberalization of the administrative procedures of political party formation in Egypt, it was also criticized for being biased against the youth of the revolution as it levied heavy financial fees on forming and registering political parties. The new law, also, did not accommodate their relative inability to source members from ten governorates. In fact, the election law, which was issued later, put even further financial burdens on new parties joining the elections. Nonetheless, new political parties were formed, the most important of which were: 1. the Freedom and Justice Party (FJP), which represented the mainstream Ikhwan. The party formed an alliance with 11 other minor political parties under the label of ‘the Democratic Alliance’; 2. the Egyptian Socialist Democratic Party, which formed a coalition with three other parties under the label of ‘the Egyptian Bloc’; 3. the ‘Socialist Forces Party’, which entered into a coalition with five other socialist parties and movements under the label of ‘the Revolution Continues’; 4. the Salafi Al-Nour Party, which formed a coalition with other Salafi parties such as Al-Asala and the Building and Development Party under the label of ‘the Islamic Bloc’ and sometimes, ‘Alliance for Egypt’; and 5. Al-Wasat (the Middle) Party, which was an offshoot of the Muslim Brotherhood, and which formed a coalition with two other parties.



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These parties were in addition to the already existing secular New Wafd Party, which was formed in 1978 during the Sadat era. Meanwhile, sectarian violence swept through Egypt, most prominently when the Salafis were accused of attacks against Coptic churches. SCAF, instead of taking severe measures to defend the Egyptian Coptic minority, pursued an appeasement strategy by calling on Salafi leaders to placate those responsible for the violence. This resulted in even more attacks on Coptic churches. During these trying times, SCAF did little to change the foundations of the old regime. Mubarak was set free to enjoy his ‘forced retirement’ in Sharm al-Sheikh, and his principal assistants continued to be free from prosecution. This triggered a ‘Save the Revolution’ initiative on 1 April, whereby demonstrators filled Tahrir Square and demanded that SCAF should move faster in dismantling the remaining elements of the overthrown authoritarian rule. Protestors also called for a trial of Mubarak and his close associates for charges of political corruption. In short, SCAF was being criticized for not following through on revolutionary promises. It was under these pressures that on 24 May Mubarak was ordered to stand trial for numerous charges, including the charge of premeditated murder of peaceful protesters during the uprising. The complete list of charges, which was released by the public prosecutor, included ‘intentional murder, attempted killing of some demonstrators … misuse of influence, deliberately wasting public funds and unlawfully making private financial gains and profits. The trial of Mubarak and his two sons, along with former minister of the interior Habib Al-Adly and six former top police officials began on 3 August. It was broadcast on Egyptian television where Mubarak made his first media appearance after his resignation, but this time behind bars. Nearly a year later, on 2 June 2012, the court sentenced Mubarak and his Interior Minister to life imprisonment for failing to protect protestors during the uprising. Another feature of SCAF’s governing policy during the transitional period was to refer civilians with criminal convictions to military tribunals. This sparked large protests where tens of thousands of demonstrators filled Tahrir Square, as well as other areas in Cairo. They were seen as the largest mobilization of people since the ousting of Mubarak. The protests had two messages to the government: that there should be no military trials for civilians, and that the constitution should

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be drafted before parliamentary elections. On 8 July, further protests erupted demanding immediate reforms and swifter prosecution of former officials from the Mubarak era. On 28 September, SCAF issued a new electoral law to regulate the parliamentary elections, which had to be modified a number of times due to criticisms from the political forces. The new electoral system stipulated that two-thirds of the People’s Council (lower house), equivalent to 332 seats distributed among 46 constituencies, would be elected through PR and closed party lists, and only one-third of the seats would be allocated to independent candidates elected through a first-past-the-post system. In practice, however, this distribution of seats was never implemented as political parties were still allowed to consider candidates from constituencies allotted to independent candidates. The new electoral laws guaranteeing 50 per cent of the seats be reserved for ‘workers and farmers’ provoked further criticism. This meant that in drawing up electoral lists, each party or coalition would have to alternate between two categories: professionals and workers/farmers. To secure a seat in parliament, each party would have to gain a minimum of half a per cent of the national vote. The new system also did not allow voters to choose candidates according to personal preference, as would have been the case in an open party list system. The 64-seat quota allocated for women in the 2010 parliamentary elections during the Mubarak era was cancelled and substituted with a stipulation where at least one woman was included in each party list. This stipulation gave each party the freedom to place female candidates anywhere on their list. Women’s rights groups considered the system to undermine women by reducing their chances of being represented in parliament. In fact, the results of the elections proved to be a frightening prospect for women’s rights activists as only four women were elected in 498 seats.16 It soon became obvious that the Egyptian electoral system was more complicated than its Tunisian counterpart. In Tunisia, only the PR system was used, whereas in Egypt they combined PR and first-pastthe-post systems, which meant the creation of very large constituencies. It made the task especially difficult for independent candidates, particularly the young generation of protesters who actively led the revolution on 25 January. For the average Egyptian citizen, and in a country where the rate of illiteracy is nearly 35 per cent, the system was especially complicated. It entailed that each voter would have to



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cast two votes, one for the electoral list, and the other for the individual constituency. On 19 November, SCAF issued yet another law, this time addressing the rights of Egyptian expatriates living abroad to vote in the elections. It mandated that expatriates vote for candidates in their own constituencies in Egypt, and did not allocate individual seats for them in the parliament as was the case in Tunisia.17 The elections of the People’s Council were held in three stages, the first of which took place on 28 February. Elections for the Shura Council (Upper House), however, were conducted over two stages. Unlike in Tunisia, where the electoral process was completed on the same day, the elections in Egypt took place over an extended period of time. Another problem in Egypt was that the results of each stage of the elections were announced immediately, something that influenced the results that came out of the subsequent stages. The elections of the People’s Council saw a high voter turnout rate compared with previous elections, with almost 62 per cent of eligible voters casting their votes. This large turnout was due to a number of reasons, most importantly the imposition of an EG£500 fine on those who failed to vote. To the benefit of Islamist parties, large numbers of people from poor and rural classes, some of whom had never voted before, went to the polls to avoid the fine. However, in the absence of such a penalty, voter turnout for the Shura Council elections decreased to just 10 per cent. Voting for the People’s Council resulted in a political victory for the Islamist parties in their two wings: the FJP and the Salafis. The People’s Council had a total of 508 seats, ten of which were appointed by SCAF. The remaining 498 were allocated as follows: 1. The Democratic Alliance for Egypt won 235 seats (37.5 per cent of the national vote), with the Freedom and Justice Party gaining 213 seats. 2. The Islamic Bloc won 123 seats (27.8 per cent), with Al-Nour gaining 107 seats. 3. The New Wafd Party got 38 seats (9.2 per cent). 4. The Egyptian Bloc won 35 sets (8.9 per cent), with the Social Democratic Party gaining 16 seats. 5. Al-Wasat gained 10 seats (3.7 per cent). 6. The Revolution Continues coalition got 9 seats (2.8 per cent), with the Socialist Popular Alliance Party gaining 5 of them.

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Parties formed by former members of the National Democratic Party won 18 seats. This was in addition to the 20 independent seats and 10 seats appointed by SCAF. The fact that two-thirds of the seats in the People’s Council were reserved for the Islamists meant a direct marginalization of the revolutionary youth, who were the actual makers of the 25 January revolution. The Islamists, in fact, only joined the revolution when the police force collapsed on 28 January. Ironically, the Salafis, who considered the revolution to be ‘against Islam’, had a quarter of parliamentary seats in the elections. This initiated a deep disagreement and, at times, antagonism, between the Tahrir Square youth and a parliament dominated by Islamists. In short, Tahrir Square youth had a deep-seated feeling that the revolution had been ‘stolen’.18 Owing to the accusation that the Sharaf government was a shadow of SCAF and in light of the deteriorating security and economic conditions in the country, on 7 December, SCAF removed Sharaf and installed a new government headed by Kamal Al-Ganzoury, a former prime minister under Mubarak. The revolutionary youth protested against this move and called for the appointment of Muhammad Al-Baradei, a prominent opponent of Mubarak before the revolution. SCAF showed no intention of reconsidering the move and insisted on the appointment of Ganzoury at the cost of large-scale killings in what was later called the ‘Mohammad Mahmud’ and the ‘Cabinet’ massacres. The newly elected parliament had a poor performance record. It focused on issues revolving around the ‘Islamization’ of Egypt rather than on more immediate and pressing social and economic problems. Moreover, the newly elected parliament was short-lived as, on 14 June 2012, the High Constitutional Court ruled that the parliamentary elections were unconstitutional. The ruling was due, in part, to the fact that some seats were contested on a proportional list system, while others were contested on the first-past-the-post system. The court concluded, therefore, that the election law had allowed political parties to compete for seats originally intended for independent candidates. The ruling was put in the following terms: ‘The makeup of the entire chamber is illegal and, consequently, it does not legally stand’. SCAF issued a decree and the parliament was dissolved. The presidential elections were held in two stages, between May and June 2012. In the first stage, 13 candidates competed for the presidency,



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including Mohammad Morsi, who represented the Ikhwan, and Ahmad Shafiq, the last prime minister under Mubarak. In addition, there were other candidates, such as Hamdeen Sabbahy, representing the Nasserites; Abdel-Monem Abou El-Fotouh and Selim Al-Awaa for the moderate Islamists; former members of the old regime were also present such as Amr Moussa; and finally, Khalid Ali who stood for the socialists. To the surprise of most Egyptians, Morsi and Shafiq topped the final list as each one of them had almost 20 per cent of the vote, which qualified them to proceed to the second stage. Morsi’s win of the election by a margin of 3 per cent was controversial. Shafiq, Morsi’s rival, even claimed that SCAF informed him hours in advance that he had won by the same margin. However, the final decision was to be made by the Election Committee, which ruled that Morsi was the winner. Further allegations were levelled at SCAF, accusing it of altering the results of the elections out of concern that the Ikhwan would engulf Egypt in civil war if Morsi had not been declared the winner. Critics also talked of the USA unreservedly supporting Morsi’s bid for presidency as a result of assurances Morsi had given to the US administration that, if elected, he would honour the peace treaty with Israel. Soon after the elections, Shafiq fled Egypt with his family to Abu Dhabi, which gave him political asylum. In the end, Morsi was sworn in on 30 June 2012 as the first president of Egypt after the revolution. One of the first actions that he took as president was to reinstate the dissolved parliament, a move viewed as a challenge to the Constitutional Court, which immediately issued another ruling that reaffirmed the dissolution of the parliament.

Explaining the Differences Between Tunisian and Egyptian Paths to Democratization There is a general consensus among Egyptian intellectuals that the Egyptian path to democratization has not moved the country any closer towards achieving its goals. Nine months after the revolution, an assessment report produced by a former director of Al-Ahram Centre for Political and Strategic Studies asserted that ‘Egypt is going through a very dangerous era as it is characterized by the collapse of the pillars of the state, failure of political management to enforce

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the rule of law or to control the aspects of social collapse, which was unprecedented in modern or contemporary history’.19 It also showed that the Tunisian path to democratization was a smoother one. One area which was a source of great contention in both countries was whether to draft the constitution first or hold elections. In Tunisia, it was quickly resolved by an agreement between political parties and the transitional government to elect a constituent assembly that would govern and draft the new constitution. Such consensus gave political forces the necessary assurances that the new constitution would be drafted on the basis of the agreement of all political forces, including those who initiated the revolution. In this process, the army did not interfere. In Egypt, SCAF chose to hold elections first, and assign the task of forming a committee to draft the new constitution to the elected members of parliament. The Islamists fully endorsed the proposal. However, liberal forces (including the Coptic Christians) as well as the youth of the revolution, opposed it, and SCAF failed to establish a consensus on the issue. Tunisia, conversely, succeeded in reaching a relative IslamistLiberal accord which did not lead to a climate of political tension as was the case in Egypt. In accounting for the contrasting outcomes of the Tunisian and Egyptian paths to democratization, one can outline the following factors:

The Historical Legacies of Tunisia and Egypt Historically, Tunisia is considered to be ahead of Egypt in terms of its democratic experience. Of all majority-Muslim states, Tunisia was the first to establish a written constitution (in 1866). Since its independence, the military never intervened in politics, and despite the authoritarian character of the Bourgiba and Ben Ali regimes, the military remained detached from politics. Egypt, on the other hand, went through a liberal phase (1923–52) followed by a military phase (1952–2011). During the latter, the military established a tradition of remaining outside civilian control. In addition, Tunisia boasts a tradition of coalition building between different political parties. In 2005, anti-regime forces formed a group called ‘October 18 for Rights and Freedoms’, which, in turn, established the ‘October 18 Forum’ to act as a framework for a common agenda shared



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by the political forces involved, Islamist Al-Nahda being one of them. In 2010, the Forum issued three documents on gender equality, freedom of belief and on defining the nature of the relationship between religion and the state in a Muslim democratic state. This meant that by the time the Tunisian revolution broke out, there was already a mutual ground for the political forces to build on, both Islamist and secular. 20 In Egypt, such agreements never existed. On the contrary, the pre-revolution era was marked by strong antagonism between major opposition blocs, such as the leftists and the Islamists. In brief, Tunisia was in a more favourable position to tread the path of democratization compared to Egypt.

The Leadership of the Transitional Phases in Tunisia and Egypt Civilians in Tunisia played a leading role in steering the course of revolutionary change towards democratization, while the military, led by Rashid Bin Ammar, played virtually no role. Although prominent figures in the transitional government, such as Fouad Mebazaa, enjoyed a close relationship with the ex-President Ben Ali, they had, by and large, severed all connections with the old regime. In Egypt, it was SCAF which took over after Mubarak. There is little doubt that the transitional period was badly managed during its rule, especially in its slow, untimely and irresponsive attitude to the demands of the revolutionary forces. Liberal forces even accused SCAF of breaking a deal with the country’s Islamists so as to share the rulership of the nation, and a number of statements made by SCAF and Islamist leaders did little to dispel such doubts. In addition, SCAF handled subsequent youth protest movements with severe military violence, something unprecedented in the history of modern Egypt. On one occasion, when the revolution’s youth demonstrated in Tahrir Square on 20 November 2011 calling for compensation for the victims of the old Mubarak regime, they were met with vicious violence resulting in a total of nine massacres. This was followed by the detention and torture of many of the revolutionary youth. The military police pursued a policy of arresting young revolutionaries and referring them to military courts. In one case seven female protesters were arrested in Tahrir Square. The police beat them, placed them in detention, and subjected them to a ‘virginity test’ by two male military

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personnel. Samira Ibrahim, one of the seven female protestors, was the only victim who went public to reveal the scandalous practice which she described as ‘most humiliating’.21 They were also threatened with being charged with prostitution if they came back to the Square. In due course, a military spokesman admitted that the test was conducted as a safeguard against future claims by the girls that they were raped during detention.22 In December 2011, SCAF launched an extensive police campaign against civil society groups. SCAF criticized their practices, and confiscated their papers, documents, computers and funds. The charge against them was that these non-governmental organizations (NGOs) received funds from Western powers. Meanwhile, the Islamists escaped prosecution, even though they had publically admitted receiving Qatari funds, a move that was viewed as a prelude to the re-establishment of the old Mubarak regime.23 During the parliamentary elections, SCAF did not pay attention to concerns that many groups, especially the Islamists, were violating the electoral laws by overspending, and using religion in their campaigns.24 SCAF also continued to pursue Mubarak’s highly controversial and widely criticized foreign policies. The most notorious of these was the exportation of natural gas to Israel at prices lower than the average world market rate. SCAF kept such exports going, which led armed underground groups to disrupt the flow of natural gas by attacking the pipelines between Egypt and Israel. Also, the fallout with the United States over an unlicensed American civil society organization working in Egypt was viewed as frivolous and mildly threatening, and SCAF used it to boost its popularity among the revolutionaries. In summary, three main issues can be outlined as hindering Egypt’s transition to democracy in the context of the dominant role of the military. First, the Egyptian army has a well-established tradition of staying above any civilian control. Civilian intervention into army affairs was openly considered a ‘red line’ never to be crossed, a condition accepted by Egyptians before the revolution. When army generals became also the new political rulers of the country, they had to accept public criticism and accountability, an idea foreign to their tradition, which naturally led to conflict with the revolutionary forces. Secondly, the army generals had close ties with Mubarak, having worked with him for years, but were largely opposed to his efforts to pass the presidency to his son, Gamal. This was the only area of agreement between military leaders and the revolutionaries of 25 January and once settled, they tried to preserve



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the key contours of the Mubarak regime. Thirdly, the Egyptian army has extensive financial interests in the economic system established and maintained by the Mubarak regime. The army runs businesses and commercial enterprises equally capable of competing in the local market, especially as most of their workers are unpaid soldiers, and the projects are away from civilian scrutiny and control.25

Islamist Discourse and Practice in Tunisia and Egypt In Tunisia, the Islamists were led by Rashid Al-Ghannoushi, the leader of Al-Nahda. He is considered to be a moderate Islamist who stood for establishing a new political order which reconciles Islam. Also AlNahda reached out to the wider Tunisian public to assure them that if elected, it would not turn Tunisia into a religious state. Such moderate discourse pacified the critics and opened the door for alliances between the Islamists (especially Al-Nahda) and the liberals, which was reflected in the make-up of the interim government. However, the discourse of Al-Nahda on the role of non-Muslims in an ‘Islamic state’ troubled some liberal and leftist forces. The question was whether non-Muslims would enjoy full political rights when they joined the political process, including the right to serve as president of the republic. Al-Nahda did not address this question during the electoral campaign, but, in some of his writings, Ghannoushi had vowed to restrict that position to Muslims, claiming, by drawing an analogy, that in European countries the president of a republic must be a believer in ‘republicanism’.26 On the other hand, in Egypt, the discourse of the Islamists was alarming and even frightening. A coalition of Islamist parties issued a statement on 16 July 2011 in which it threatened liberal forces, who called for the introduction of supra-constitutional principles to govern the drafting of the future constitution, with ‘unbearable consequences if they persisted in articulating such demands’.27 When a document was issued by the government (Al-Silmi Document) outlining these liberal principles, the Islamists took a hard line against it, claiming that only the parliament had the legal right to draft such a document. Sobhi Saleh, an Ikhwan leader, said that ‘the suggested document was “dirty and decadent” …, [and that] the interim Deputy Prime Minister

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Al-Silmi, who drafted the document, should resign or “would bear the consequences of non-resignation’”.28 Al-Silmi indeed resigned after that explicit threat. Saleh also threatened the members of the NDP by saying to them that ‘we will bury you in your place’, and said that anyone who thinks about excluding the Ikhwan was ‘playing with fire, and whoever played with fire would be burnt by it’.29 Azab Mustafa, a member in the Political Bureau of the Ikhwan, also threatened that the Ikhwan would sabotage the elections if any of its candidates were excluded. Mahfouz Amer, a Salafi leader, issued three fatwas in which he asserted that voting for the Copts was forbidden (haram) in Islam,30 and Abdel-Ghafour, the head of Al-Nour, claimed that his party rejected the concept of the civil state and the possibility of Egypt’s president being a Copt.31 A leading Salafi also vowed that, if in power, he would force the Copts to pay jizya, a special tax paid by non-Muslims living in a Muslim society, or would force them to leave Egypt. This prompted the deputy head of the Evangelical Church in Egypt to declare that the Copts would never leave Egypt under any condition.32 The Islamists acted on the assumption that power in Egypt had already fallen into their hands and they were solely entitled to decide the future of the country. They promised the Egyptians a bright future similar to the one achieved by the Justice and Development Party (AKP) in Turkey, having declared they would pursue the ‘Turkish model’. However, they also criticized Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan when he affirmed that the Turkish model was a ‘secular one’.

Higher Level of Elite Consensus in Tunisia Compared with Egypt Tunisia enjoyed a longer tradition of elite consensus compared to Egypt. This meant it was easier for the Tunisian elite to form a coalition between three divergent political parties to form the new political regime. The only exception was the exclusion of Al-Aridha from the new coalition, on the grounds that it co-operated closely with the Ben Ali regime. The fragmentation of the Egyptian elite was a major obstacle against reaching a consensus on the future course of democratization in Egypt. The Islamists were also fragmented into various groups, some of which were extremists (Salafis), others were moderate (e.g. Al-Wasat), while others were closer to the liberals (the Sufis). In a revealing article entitled



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‘In Search of the Lost Revolution’, Al-Sayed Yassin contended that one of the main reasons for the failure of the revolution was ‘the inability of the revolutionary forces to unite and form a revolutionary political front’. He added that ‘had this front been formed, the basic change required after the fall of the regime would be specified, and the mechanisms for achieving them would be suggested … the transitional phase from dictatorship to democracy would have run smoothly according to a road map with clear objectives and landmarks’.33

Different Electoral Laws in Egypt and Tunisia The election laws in Tunisia and Egypt were markedly different and produced different results. In Tunisia, the electoral law followed the rule of proportional representation, which prevented any given party from gaining an absolute majority in the Constituent Assembly. However, the Egyptian electoral law allotted two-thirds of the seats in the parliament to the political parties on the basis of proportional representation. Onethird of the seats were contested on the basis of individual representation and absolute majority with the political parties that were allowed to compete for these seats as well. In this context, political parties, especially the Islamists, enjoyed an advantage as each constituency was too large to be contested by a single candidate, especially the youth of the revolution, who had minimal funding compared with the Islamists who received support from the Gulf states.

Future Trends and Issues in Tunisia and Egypt It is too early to predict what will be the end result of the democracy wave in Tunisia and Egypt. These conditions, as discussed above, complicate the task of radical democratic transformation as old elites are well entrenched in the structure of economic and political power. This problem is more acute in Egypt as the revolutionaries are not in power, which is still exercised by old elites in a new guise. But one can identify certain trends and issues which are likely to dominate the Tunisian and Egyptian democratic transition in the future.

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1. Building a Culture of Democracy In assessing the future course of democratization in Tunisia and Egypt, it is useful to keep in mind that for centuries these societies lived under repressive regimes that kept their people away from participation in political life. It would equally help not to lose sight of the long heritage of centralism and despotism which was reinforced by certain Muslim thinkers who advocated ideas of political obedience to tyrannical rulers. Even after the fall of Ben Ali and Mubarak, the successor regimes continued to exercise torture and killing of revolutionaries. Since the fall of Mubarak, more civilians were sentenced by military courts in Egypt than during the entirety of Mubarak’s time in office. In Tunisia, violations of human rights have not ceased or even declined since the fall of Ben Ali. The problem is that a culture of democracy takes decades to develop in societies that have no prior, genuine experience of it. The establishment of credible democratic institutions is the first step towards creating that culture. Western programmes to facilitate this process are likely to be counter-productive as they revolve around the priorities and interests of Western institutions, and lack a precise understanding of the concerns and aspirations of local communities.

2. Islamic States in Tunisia and Egypt? Traditionally, Islamic movements were suppressed in Tunisia and Egypt. Ben Ali and Mubarak also used these movements to convince the West that the only alternative to their repressive rule was militant Islamic movements. With the current Arab democratic waves of change, the new regimes facilitated new channels for Islamic movements, militant and non-militant, to take part in the political process. In all cases, the role of political Islamism in influencing policymaking will only increase in Tunisia and Egypt. In fact, some analysts are already talking about the establishment of ‘Islamic states’ in both countries, and the emergence of a ‘pax-Islamica’ in the Arab world. Also, they claim that the new regimes in Egypt and Tunisia are not likely to build democracies as they are already talking about establishing an Islamic caliphate.34



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Such assessments are exaggerated. Islamists are not likely to dominate the future political systems, and even if they do, they are not likely to change the political systems along ideological lines for the following reasons: (1) the strong modernist traditions in Tunisia and Egypt, being Mediterranean countries with historical ties to Europe and major economic and security interests with European states; (2) the Islamists are not a unified, homogenous entity; (3) the Islamists did not gain a twothirds majority in the newly elected institutions; (4) with the absence of regime repression, the image of victimization will decline, and Islamists have to face the challenges of formulating practical policies; and (5) the Islamists’ limited political experience. For these reasons, despite the rise of the Islamists and their prominent presence in the institutions of the new regimes, Tunisia and Egypt are not likely to witness the establishment of ‘Islamist’ regimes in promotion of their political ideologies.

3. Models of Development The new economic policies adopted by the new regimes in Tunisia and Egypt are not likely to continue. The development models adopted by the old regimes were approximations of ‘structural adjustment’ packages presented by the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank. They revolved around the notions of privatization, liberalization of trade and investment, and ending social subsidies. It was becoming increasingly clear to the people in Tunisia and Egypt that the application of these packages had led to mass poverty, the concentration of national wealth in the hands of the capitalist oligarchy, which formed alliances with the authoritarian regimes on the basis of mutual benefit, as well as the loss of national wealth to foreign monopolies. In the long run, the new regimes will have to pursue ‘populist’ policies which would serve the interests of the poor and middle classes, as maintaining legitimacy may largely depend on it. This is especially important because all economic indicators in Tunisia and Egypt have plummeted after the revolution. The masses feel that their economic welfare has sharply deteriorated after the revolution, which has led many analysts to even predict a ‘revolution of the hungry’ in both countries.

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Conclusion Tunisia and Egypt are not likely to shift into genuine democracies any time soon. This is because of the domestic structural and global constraints on both countries, and the rifts between the revolutionaries and the Islamists. These rifts are an outcome of the belief held by revolutionaries, especially in Egypt, that the revolution they initiated has been hijacked by other forces, some of which were even opposed to it in the first place. As far as the Islamists are concerned, it will take time for them to learn the realities of politics and economics. Egypt will be slower on the road to democracy than Tunisia. In fact, Egypt is likely to witness major political battles in the months ahead, which may include conflicts between the Islamists and the liberals, among the Islamists themselves, between the revolutionaries of Tahrir Square and the new parliamentary elite, or between SCAF and the Islamists. A majority of these potential conflicts will revolve around SCAF, which has so far played a detrimental role in mismanaging the course to democratization in Egypt. This was done by protecting its economic interests or to reinstate elements from the Mubarak regime. The Tunisian military remained neutral in the political process; hence the country has already reached a stage of democratization which Egypt may not be able to reach in the near future. The emerging regimes will have to deal with major challenges, such as building a national elite consensus, restarting crippled economies, building new political systems with new constitutions, and laying the ground for a new culture of democracy. This is in addition to the Salafi challenge in both countries. Other issues are also likely to influence the course of Egyptian politics in particular. Perhaps the main problem will be the loss of ‘soft power’ if the Salafis were able to pass their fundamentalist agenda in the newly elected parliament. Another issue will be what role the military would play in the political process, as the Egyptian military believes that under no conditions should they be called into question by a civilian authority. And, finally, what model of development is likely to be pursued, and what are the mechanisms to avoid a possible ‘revolution of the hungry’. These issues are likely to result in new conflicts, especially between a parliament dominated by Islamists and the forces of Tahrir Square.



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In the long run, the Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions may well be in a position to build genuine democracies. This is mainly because of the significant role played by the new generation of youth who initiated these revolutions. They are deeply aware of the challenges presented by the strategies and tactics pursued by the old elites and their allies to abort the revolutions. As the Egyptian novelist Ala’a Al-Aswani, put it, ‘the rabbits will never return to the cage’.35 Things will never be the same again.

Notes 1 2

3

4

5

6 7 8 9 10

11 12 13

The author would like to thank Gamal M. Selim, Assistant Professor of Political Science at Port Said University, for proofreading this chapter and making valuable comments. This is the consensus of most observers and comparisons who contributed to the Assessment Report published by the Doha Institute in Qatar. See Doha Institute, ‘Tunisian elections: A milestone on the path to democratic transformation’, Doha Institute, 31 October 2011, available at: http://english.dohainstitute.org/Home/ Details/5ea4b31b-155d-4a9f-8f4d-a5b428135cd5/d6404bfb-3ebe-4bff-83d1ece5285b5a1a, accessed 31 October 2011. Mohammad Selim, ‘Will the Tunisian Intifada extend to the rest of the Arab world?’, Al-Araby al-Nassiry Newspaper, date unknown, available at: http://www.al-3araby.com/ opinion/list/ idJnz7fOcW3TPxC2iSVDEHhw, accessed 19 February 2013. Ali El-Din Helal, ‘Tunisia and the theory of communicating vessels’, Al-Ahram, date uknown, available at: http://yyy.ahram.org.eg/archive/420/2011/01/22/4/59621.aspx, accessed 18 June 2013. Mohammad Saad Abou Al-Azm, ‘Is it true that Egypt is not Tunisia?’, Al-Mesroyoon, 25 October 2011, available at: http://www.almesroyoon.com/new.aspx?id=84010, accessed 25 October 2011. Nevine Mussad, ‘Is Egypt really different from Tunisia?’ Al-Shorouk, 27 October 2011. Fahmy Howaidy, ‘A report from Tunisia’, Al-Shorouk, 22 November 2011. Fahmy Howaidy, ‘It happens today in Tunisia’, Al-Shorouk, 23 October 2011. Statement by Mamoun Fendi on Dream2 TV. Al-Jazeera, ‘Behind the News: One revolution progresses and the other stumbles’, Al-Jazeera, 25 November 2011, available at: http://www.aljazeera.net/NR/exeres/ A2C23BB2-5370-4A62-AA12-DD1562CDFEA7.htm, accessed 18 June 2013. Sarhan Soliman, ‘What delayed the outcomes of the Egyptian revolution compared with Tunisia’, Al-Wafd, 26 December 2011. Mohammad Abou El-Azm, ‘The correct answer comes from Tunisia’, Al-Mesryoon, 28 December 2011. In Egypt, as will be shown in the course of this paper, the military refrained from dissolving Mubarak’s party, and it was the judiciary that took that responsibility upon the request of citizens.

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14 Asma Nouira, ‘Obstacles on the path of Tunisia’s democratic transformation’, Sada, 30 March 2011, available at: http://carnegieendowment.org/2011/03/30/obstacles-onpath-of-tunisia-s-democratic-transformation/6bej, accessed 18 June 2013. 15 For a review of the assessments of the Tunisian path to democracy, see Omar Kosh, ‘The Tunisian elections and the break with despotism’, Al-Jazeera, 21 November 2011, available at: http://www.aljazeera.net/NR/exeres/78B648DD-6D38-409C-A6E1FCA62D4310A0.htm, accessed 18 June 2013. 16 The status of women deteriorated sharply after the 25 January revolution. That deterioration took many forms, but the most important was the sharp decline in women parliamentary representation, and the harsh treatment given to female demonstrators including practice of the infamous ‘virginity tests’ on those girls arrested by the military. The new Islamist majority in the parliament has also vowed to ‘return women back to the home’. See Victoria Kleber, ‘No Arab spring for Egypt’s women’, DW, 12 February 2012, available at: http://www.dw.de/dw/article/0,,15737659,00. html, accessed 18 June 2013. 17 The text of the law in: Al-Ahram, 20 November 2011. 18 Osama Al-Ghazali Harb, ‘The difficult birth of democracy’, Al-Aharm, 15 December 2011. 19 Al-Sayed Yassin, ‘In defense of the State and society’, Al-Ahram, 17 November 2011. 20 Fahmy Howaidy, ‘A report from Tunisia’, Al-Shorouk, 22 November 2011. 21 David Kirkpatrick, ‘Egypt’s unfinished revolution’, International Herald Tribune, 11 January 2011. 22 Al-Masrawy, ‘A girl tells her story with “the military virginity test”’, Al-Masrawy, 16 November 2011, available at: http://www.masrawy.com/News/Egypt/Politics/2011/ november/16/4596330/aspx, accessed 18 June 2013. 23 Majida Saleh, ‘Jurists: Closure of civil society organizations is a gift to the Islamist parties, Al-Wafd, 1 January 2012, available at: http://www.alwafd.org/ ‫اإلسالمية‬-‫لألحزاب‬-‫هدية‬-‫المدني‬-‫المجتمع‬-‫منظمات‬-‫إغالق‬-‫حقوقيون‬-093341/‫السياسي‬02%‫الشارع‬-31/‫وتقارير‬-‫أخبار‬, accessed 18 June 2013. 24 Ala Al-Aswani, ‘I can see the King naked …’, Al-Masry Al-Yawm, 22 November 2011, available at: http://www.masrawy.com/News/Writers/almasryalyoum/2011/ november/22/4614378, accessed 18 June 2013. 25 Zeinab Abul-Magd, ‘The Generals’ secret: Egypt’s ambivalent market’, Sada, 9 February 2012, available at: http://carnegieendowment.org/sada/2012/02/09/generals-secretegypt-s-ambivalent-market/9iye, accessed 18 June 2013. 26 Nevine Mussad, ‘The Tunisian experiment’, Al-Shorouk, 3 November 2011. 27 Mohammad Selim, ‘The Islamists and the ultra-constitutional principles’, Al-Arabi, 24 July 2011. 28 “Sobhi Saleh, ‘Al-Silmi document is “dirty and decadent”’, Al-Masry Al-Yawm, 18 November 2011, available at: http://www.masrawy.com/news/Egypt/Politics/ 2011/November/18/4603626.aspx, accessed 18 June 2013. 29 Abdel-Mohsen Salama, ‘The talk of Sobhi Saleh and his silence’, Al-Ahram, 27 October 2011. 30 Gaber Asfour, ‘Discrimination against the Muslims and the Copts: A shocking example’, Al-Ahram, 14 November 2011.



Where Have All the Democratic Expectations Gone?

41

31 Muhammad Abu Dhaif, ‘Al-Nour Al-Salafi: Egypt does not want a Copt ruling the country’, Al-Masry Al-Yawm, 1 January 2012, available at: http://www.masrawy.com/ news/Egypt/Politics/2012/January/1/4704755.aspx, accessed 18 June 2013. 32 Al-Garida, ‘Deputy President of the Evangelical Church: We pay no attention to Salafi statements and will not leave this country’, Al-Garida, 13 January 2012, available at: http:// classic.akhbarak.net/articleview.php?id=3076670&widget=v&host=almesryoon.com, accessed 18 June 2013. 33 Al-Sayed Yassin, ‘In search for the lost revolution’, Al-Ahram, 3 November 2011, available at: http://www.ahram.org.eg/Print.aspx?ID=110612, accessed 18 June 2013. 34 Shafit, the former head of the Israeli Mossad, predicted that Egypt will not move to establish a democracy as the Ikhwan will form the government and will establish an ‘Islamic Caliphate’. See Al-Masryoun, date unkown, available at: http://www. almesryoon.com/news.aspx?id=63665, accessed 18 June 2013. 35 Ala’a Al-Aswani, ‘Will the rabbits return to the cage?’, Al-Masry Al-Yawm, 20 December 2011, available at: http://www.masrawy.com/News/Writers/almasryalyoum/2011/ december/20/4684944.aspx, accessed 18 June 2013.

CHAPTER 2

Managed Reforms and Deferred Democratic Rule in Morocco and Algeria Karima Laachir

The popular uprisings that have been sweeping the Arab world were ignited in the Maghreb, namely in Tunisia in December 2010. The Arab pro-democracy movements’ calls for change are unique to the contemporary history of the Arab world, a history marked by long decades of tyrannical and oppressive postcolonial regimes. The chants on the Arab streets throughout the uprisings have been dominated by ‘Al-sha’b yurīd isqāt al-nithām’ (the people want the fall of the regime), a strong indication of the popular desire to put an end to the current bankrupt ruling political systems in their entirety. Although the outcomes of the uprisings will become clearer in the future in terms of whether they lead to genuine democratic reforms, it is clear that the aspiration of the people in the region for social justice, economic opportunities and political freedom will not be easily silenced again. Even though these popular pro-democracy movements share common grievances about stark social and economic injustices, oppression, corruption and lack of freedom and the rule of law, they have also taken diverse forms of expression and may lead to different outcomes depending on their national political and social contexts and cultures. If Tunisia, Egypt and Libya managed to overthrow their dictators (albeit in different ways and with different consequences) and pave the way for democratic elections, an open and often violent struggle continues in Syria, Yemen and Bahrain, and a less overt one in Morocco, Algeria, Jordan, Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states. This chapter focuses on two countries in the Maghreb: Morocco and Algeria, which are presumed to be the least affected by the turmoil

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in the region. Popular demonstrations in both countries have been quickly contained by the ruling regimes using the ‘carrot and stick’ approach. In these two countries, the demonstrations did not take off on a massive scale for various reasons to do with their cultural and national contexts and histories, which I will touch upon briefly in this chapter. Nevertheless, both countries share, to a certain extent, the same repressive political and socio-economic conditions that have led to revolt in other Arab states. Whereas Morocco has been deemed an ‘exception’ to the region’s upheaval because of its political stability, Algeria’s recent history of traumatic civil war has left Algerians wary of revolutions. It is true that unlike the Libyan state under Gaddafi and the Tunisian state under Ben Ali, Morocco and Algeria have seen some political reforms in the last few decades. However, that has not entailed real change in the authoritarian nature of their regimes. Algeria was governed by a one-party system under military supervision since independence in 1962 until 1989, when a multi-party system was introduced. However, in reality, the military still largely controls the politics of the country. In Morocco, the king oversees a multi-party system under an absolute monarchy, in which he has the ultimate executive power (the new constitution, ratified in July 2011, has slightly modified this, as will be discussed later in this chapter). This chapter argues that the Moroccan and Algerian response to popular demonstrations during the Arab Spring has been specific to their own cultural and political contexts. While Morocco’s King was quick to announce constitutional reforms in March 2011 and align himself with the pro-democracy movement in the country, the Algerian President promised constitutional reforms in April 2011 without specifying dates for implementation. The two countries have been dominated by the elusive power of the ruling political and economic elites and their machination to keep the status quo. They continue to utilize cosmetic reforms that allow them to maintain their grip on political and economic power and squander opportunities for real democratic reforms in the two countries, and, therefore, keep deferring the ‘democracy’ project.



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The Moroccan ‘Exception’? Morocco has been deemed an exception to the region’s unrest because of its political stability. Various forms of media, including traditional and new social media, like Facebook, have been used by the Moroccan elite, or Makhzen,1 to promote the idea of the Moroccan ‘exception’. Morocco has also been presented as a good case of ‘managed’ revolution on how an authoritarian regime’s top-down reforms can guarantee stability and peace. Therefore, Morocco is seen as a commendable example of democratic transition to other Arab monarchies in the Gulf.2 In fact, the Moroccan monarchy was the first regime to act promptly and to enact constitutional reforms in response to popular demonstrations in February 2011, which can be compared to the violent repression of popular uprisings in other Arab countries, such as Libya, Bahrain, Syria and Yemen. This gained the Moroccan monarchy the support of the United States and the European Union.3 While it is true that Morocco has its distinctive political and cultural history, one has to question the idea of Moroccan ‘exceptionalism’. This is because Morocco suffers from many of the region’s woes, such as corruption, a high rate of unemployment, a huge gap between the rich and the poor, the lack of rule of law, gender inequalities and a high rate of illiteracy. It seems that the idea of ‘exceptionalism’ is mainly linked to Morocco’s image as a politically stable, liberal and moderate nation that has initiated a democratization process since the 1980s. This idea is also linked to the legitimacy of the monarch as the ruler of the country and the commander of the faithful (Amir Al mu’minin) with the utmost religious authority,4 supported by the constitution, which affirms his authority.5 Moreover, the current monarch, Mohammed VI, enjoys widespread popularity among the Moroccan masses (unlike his late father King Hassan II), as he has skilfully managed to distance himself from the power of the corrupt Makhzen since his accession to the throne in 1999. Therefore, in the eyes of the masses in Morocco, the King is a reformist figure who cares about the integration of young people and women in Moroccan public life. Mohammed VI also established his image as ‘king of the poor’ in the early years of his reign, as he demonstrated what was perceived to be a genuine concern for the poor and deprived. However, he remains an extremely wealthy monarch with extensive business interests in various sectors of the Moroccan economy,6 which raises questions

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about the concentration of wealth in the hands of the royal palace and its cronies. It is true that Morocco has been exceptional in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region in the way it has pursued limited social, economic and political reforms since the 1980s. After decades of maintaining an iron grip on power, and towards the end of his reign, King Hassan II initiated some reforms in the 1990s, such as legalizing the freedom of association, relaxing press control and curbing police brutality.7 He also implemented constitutional changes in 1996, with the introduction of a bicameral parliament and a government of alternance, whereby power would be alternated between the two major political coalitions of the central-right and central-left, but without giving up the palace’s control of four important ministries: Interior, Foreign Affairs, Justice and Islamic Affairs.8 Those reforms, which are generally characterized by the balancing of the use of consensus alongside repression and hegemony, have been, according to Jofeé, mainly directed at ‘dynastic preservation’.9 In other words, they are motivated by the awareness of the monarchy that such changes are necessary for its survival and its hegemonic grip on power rather than a genuine concern for democratization in the country. In Jofeé’s terms, ‘What has been truly striking in Morocco has been the flexibility that the monarchy, as the core of the hegemonic power structure, has been prepared to adopt to ensure its survival whilst at the same time maintaining a remarkable constancy of purpose.’10 It is this flexibility that has enabled the monarchy to keep its strong hold on power while responding to societal changes within the country. Economic reforms in the form of liberalization and privatization in the business and energy sector, alongside the implementation of the structural adjustment programmes imposed by the IMF as part of its financial aid package to Morocco, have had detrimental effects on Moroccan society as they have worsened the poverty of the masses and benefited the economic elites and those close to the palace.11 Mohammed VI continued with the process of reforms started in the ‘post-Lead’ years,12 with the establishment of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in 2004. Although this royal initiative was rather unique in the Arab world, as it investigated state-perpetuated human rights abuses, it can also be seen as part of a set of carefully state-staged reforms that aimed at establishing a break with the state repression of the past, and, therefore, co-opted public criticism of past



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47

abuses without giving up much of the palace’s power.13 The commission met with more than 10,000 claimants, victims and witnesses, between January 2004 and November 2005 and looked particularly at human rights abuses of the Lead Years that included illegal detentions, forced disappearances and torture at the hands of the security forces.14 The aim of the commission was not to prosecute those who committed crimes within state apparatuses (some of them still hold senior jobs within the security forces), but mainly to open up a national dialogue on the violations of the past.15 The final report issued by the commission also outlined a plan to help the reparation of the victims and their families; however, the commission’s recommendations of putting standards and structures in place to safeguard against future state abuses and against the impunity of the government were not implemented.16 The commission has since been criticized for not dealing with current human rights abuses in the climate of the ‘war on terror’ and in the aftermath of the Casablanca bombing of May 2003, as some of the over 2,000 Islamists suspected of terrorism arrested were tortured.17 The reform of the Moroccan Mudawwana (family law) in 2004 has also been an important achievement, after years of female activism pushing for the said changes. Even though the Mudawwana changes have improved the legal status of women in Morocco, they have not completely eliminated gender discrimination. Moreover, the new rules have not been effectively applied by family judges, many of whom have been poorly trained to apply the law adequately. Furthermore, a large section of Moroccan society remains educationally unprepared for these social changes, and many women, particularly in rural areas where there is a high rate of illiteracy, are not even aware of their legal rights.18 Despite these reforms taking place in the early years of Mohammed VI’s reign, the authority of the politically and economically powerful Makhzen has not really been challenged. The palace still continues to play a central role in Morocco’s political life using techniques of coercion and co-optation of political opponents.19 Morocco’s weak political parties have stagnated and lost credibility with the electorate; some of them have been co-opted and others have been controlled by the same families for decades, becoming, therefore, part of the system. There are more than 35 parties competing for power in Morocco, all of which have a lack of political difference or alternative discourses that can challenge the power of the Makhzen.20

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Moderate Islamists were also integrated into mainstream politics in the mid-1990s, particularly the Justice and Development Party (PJD), which obtained the majority of seats in the 25 November 2011 elections, and which is now leading the current coalition government.21 The incorporation of the PJD, which has always been pro-monarchy, into the political establishment was also a step towards curbing the influence of the more rebellious Islamist Justice and Charity Movement (JCM) led by Adesslam Yassine, a vocal critic of the monarchy. The JCM, while still illegal, is tolerated. The integration of the PJD was a positive step towards pluralistic democratic practice, given that large numbers of Moroccans advocate the party’s social and political vision. It remains to be seen what direction the PJD will take in the future in the social, economic and political spheres. The state’s carefully controlled political reforms began to stall in 2002 and took a different turn in the aftermath of the Casablanca bombing in 2003, as the repressive state’s security apparatus made a strong comeback in the name of national security. Since then, press freedom has been compromised; journalists who have crossed ‘political lines’ and criticized the corruption of the elites have been punished.22

The 20 February Pro-Democracy Movement and the New Constitutional Reforms As the political reforms associated with Mohammed VI’s early years of reign came to a halt around 2002, Morocco’s democratization process was once again put on hold. Although the emergence of the 20 February23 pro-democracy movement in Morocco is directly linked to the domino effect of the uprisings in neighbouring Tunisia, Egypt, Libya and other Arab countries, the movement can also be seen as the outcome of years of stagnation of a political system dominated by the powerful monarchy and Makhzen, and ineffectual political parties.24 Maghraoui argues that the 20 February movement, like other recent spontaneous and non-institutionalized movements in other Arab countries, should be perceived as part of a ‘subaltern politics’ in Morocco, politics that have not been co-opted by the Makhzen’s machination. The activists in this movement perceive Morocco to be ripe for change at this present historical moment, and believe that no more opportunities should be



Managed Reforms in Morocco and Algeria

49

squandered or postponed regarding real democratic reforms that can guarantee the sovereignty of people and their rights.25 These ‘autonomous politics of the politically marginalised … outside of the orbit of the makhzanian state’ should be seen, in Maghraoui’s terms, in the light of the way ‘the Moroccan political parties have gradually come within that orbit and [become] part of the “politics of ideological consensus” that can no longer challenge the monarchy and propose new and more democratic alternatives’.26 One of the 20 February movement’s slogans is ‘Bread, Liberty, Dignity, Humanity’, an indication of the desire of Moroccans not just for economic justice but also for their dignity as citizens with real political and social rights. Unlike in other Arab countries, the movement did not call for the fall of the monarch, but rather called for the dissolution of parliament, reforms and a constitutional monarchy. The movement called upon the royal palace not to combine wealth with power in one of its slogans, reflecting a clear resentment of the monarchy and its cronies’ monopoly of the business sector. Although the movement was mainly organized and led by youth groups using social media, it attracted people of all ages and diverse political leanings and fiercely maintained its independence from all political parties. Activists in the 20 February movement have been continuously harassed by the security forces, and subjugated to the state’s continuous media campaign to discredit them as a threat to national unity as supposed agents of the ‘West’, the radical Islamists or the Polisario Front. However, the movement managed to pursue their push for meaningful constitutional reforms, something that political parties have failed to do for decades. The King has tried to portray himself as an ally of the 20 February movement and not as its target. In his speech on 9 March 2011 (following peaceful demonstrations in various Moroccan cities), he proposed constitutional changes to give more power to the elected parliament, ensure the independence of the judiciary and the separation of powers, increase the accountability of public office holders, protect human rights and ensure the respect of the plurality of the Moroccan identity. The members of the 20 February movement questioned the proposed reforms and called for more radical democratic changes that would curtail the power of the monarch and give sovereignty to the people. Their demonstrations after the king’s speech in March were openly repressed. This repression was accompanied by an increase in

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food subsidies and public servants’ salaries to keep potential wider unrest at bay. Following the king’s speech in March, a jurist was appointed as the head of the commission responsible for drafting the new constitution in dialogue with all political parties. However, the commission’s work was not transparent and it failed to consult the 20 February movement. The commission’s proposed constitutional changes seem to have been imposed from above by the Makhzen’s machination.27 The campaign for the vote on the changes of the constitution was totally dominated by the state’s machine with all its might; there was no space given to the ‘NO’ campaign.28 The revised constitution was eventually passed in a referendum on 1 July 2011. The 20 February movement boycotted the referendum as well as the parliamentary elections of 25 November 2011 and continued to call for more substantial reforms. The amended constitution gives more power to the parliament (which can exercise more power as a representative body of the people) and the prime minister who, for the first time, is to be appointed from the largest party in parliament by the king. The revised constitution also gives more independence to the judiciary, more protection of human rights and recognition of the Moroccan cultural diversity as well as the Amazigh language as the second official language of the country. The revised constitution also introduces more accountability of the Moroccan governing bodies; and it gives more power to regional councils as part of the processes of decentralization of power within the country. The parliamentary elections held on 25 November 2011 were predominantly fair according to most observers. As mentioned above, the new coalition government is led by the moderate Islamist PJD, which holds a majority of seats in the parliament (107 seats out of 395). Since the elections, the PJD formed a coalition government with the Istiklal party (a conservative monarchist party) and the Popular Movement (another pro-monarchy party). The PJD now controls most of the ministerial portfolios including the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Ministry of Justice, which were previously two of the ‘sovereign ministries’ kept under the control of the king. However, the new cabinet, led by the PJD Prime Minister Ben Kirane, is male-dominated with only one female minister (Bassima Hakkaoui of the PJD, in charge of the Ministry of Solidarity and the Family), which is not a good indication of the gender equality agenda of the government.



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Evolutionary Reforms and Deferred Democracy The 20 February movement has given a voice to the marginalized youth of Morocco, who had largely been excluded from the country’s public life and were presumed to be depoliticized.29 Furthermore, the movement has brought the issue of political reform back to the public agenda after years of stagnation, an achievement that mainstream political parties have failed to realize for decades. The movement has also succeeded in overcoming ideological differences in the way it has established a dialogue between various factions of ideological leanings in Moroccan society including leftist, Islamist, secularist and Berber people. So far, the movement perceives the recent changes in the constitution as cosmetic, as they have not really altered the monopoly of power by the monarchy and the Makhzen. Even though the changes in the constitution may be perceived as a positive step towards democratization in Morocco, they have not really decreased the king’s control of power. In fact, the monarch and the Makhzen have dictated the terms and extent of the reforms in the absence of strong and independent political parties that can influence the political agenda for change. Moroccan political parties have missed another opportunity to push for radical democratic reforms, as they failed to engage in an open and frank debate on the proposed changes in the constitution during the consultation process.30 The lack of productive debate and exchange of diverse and conflicting views on the proposed reforms during the consultation process demonstrates the way party politics in Morocco have been reduced to neutrality through the Makhzen’s tactics of ‘consensus building’ that use both co-optation and coercion. In Maghraoui’s words, The main political parties do [sic] no longer have the clout or political stamina to put into question the structural supremacy of the monarchy in the decision-making process. In this form of ‘consensus building’ that is an essential part of the monarchical mechanisms of control over the nature of political participation of different political elite, the parties are neutralised and in the process they internalise their neutrality. The Moroccan mass media, newspapers and local government provide the technical

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tools and normative core of this culture in order to manufacture this ‘ideological consensus’.31 It is the youth of the 20 February movement who have broken this consensus and refused to be co-opted by the Makhzen in their demands for a democratic constitution that limits the power of the king. It is the movement’s activists who have provided a ‘counter discourse to the dominant politics of consensus’ by creating their own international news portal site called Mamfankinch,32 which provides updates on the movement’s protests, independent analysis, debates and live blogs on the Moroccan political context.33 Despite the recent protests, the King is still popular in Morocco and maintains his image as a liberal and reformist monarch. However, the 20 February movement has exposed the gap between the empty rhetoric of reform of the ruling elites and the aspirations of Moroccan people for real democracy and dignity as citizens. The Makhzen and its elites keep postponing real democratization in Morocco using the pretext that the country is not ready for such an undertaking and that it needs gradual reforms to ensure the stability of the country.34 This ‘evolutionary’ logic, as Maghraoui argues, is supported by political parties who have been unable to break the barrier of this ‘politics of consensus’ and provide alternative or counter visions of change.35 Morocco’s complex proportional electoral system, the proliferation of small parties and the divided opposition mean that no party can emerge as a clear winner of elections with a mandate to form its own government without recourse to coalitions as was the case in the last elections of 25 November 2011. This perpetuates the position of the monarch as the cornerstone of the political system.36 The pro-monarchy PJD does not seem to have any plans to challenge the monarchy in that respect. Therefore the project of democratization appears to be deferred again as the recent reforms were carefully orchestrated by the Makhzen to keep its control over the political landscape in Morocco. Understandably, Moroccans want to see results on the ground. They are wary of big rhetoric regarding change and democracy and are eager to see tangible improvements in their daily life in terms of job opportunities, public services (education and health) and social justice. If the recent changes in the political landscape do not bring about changes in the life of ordinary Moroccans plagued by the high



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53

cost of living and lack of economic opportunities, then violent uprisings may take place. Algeria, Democracy and the Trauma of the Recent Past Algeria was one of the first Arab countries to start a pioneering democratization process in 1988–91, when democratic reforms were established after massive popular riots expressing their anger and disillusion at the successive postcolonial National Liberation Front (FLN) governments. However, these reforms were aborted in 1992, when the country’s first round of multi-party elections showed that the Islamist Islamic Salvation Front (FIS) was on course to win the majority of seats in the National Popular Assembly. The military intervened by declaring a state of emergency, annulled the election result and forced the resignation of President Chadli Benjdid. This was followed by a devastating civil war between the Islamists and the military that tore the fabric of Algerian society apart for a whole decade. The control by the military of the political system and the trauma of the recent civil war make the Algerians particularly sensitive to the Arab popular uprisings, as the wounds of the past are not yet healed. Algeria is also an important case as it is the first country in the Arab world where Islamist parties showed what they could achieve politically if they were allowed to compete for power freely within the electoral system. In that case, FIS was projected to gain a landslide victory in the 1991 Algerian elections, setting a precedent for how Western governments would react in the case of a victory by Islamists.37 In his book on the transnational dimension of the failure of the Algerian democratization process, Cavatorta argues that the Algerian regime, which was dominated by the military and responsible for aborting the democratic transition, was supported by the West politically and economically after the 1992 military coup.38 In other words, the West’s negative perception of Islamists allowed the military to conduct its actions without any international scrutiny. Some observers argue that the ensuing civil war in Algeria was part of a difficult and on-going project of national self-definition that started during the brutal war of independence against France in the 1950s.39 Before they were aborted, the political reforms of 1988–91 introduced, for the first time, a multi-party system, liberalized the

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Democracy and Reform in the Middle East and Asia

press and allowed the establishment of civic associations. However, even if the multi-party system was retained, Algerian ruling elites, or the so-called le pouvoir (the power-that-be), dominated by the military, would have managed to retain its stronghold on power since 1992.

The Aborted Democratization Process of 1988–91 in Algeria The Algerian economy relies heavily on the income made from its vast natural gas and oil reserves. Industrialization started earnestly in the 1970s at the expense of agricultural development, which created a shortage of food supplies for a fast-growing population. However, Algeria thought it could afford to invest in heavy industry using the income from the oil and natural gas revenues; the latter were also used to subsidize food prices. These economic miscalculations, combined with mismanagement and corruption as well as the failure of the industrial sector to take off, went hand-in-hand with various issues of over-urbanization, lack of adequate housing, lack of reliable food production and distribution and unemployment.40 When oil prices plummeted in the 1980s, these social and economic problems came to the fore, exposing the fragility of the state in solving the rising social tensions plaguing the country. In an attempt to solve these problems, economic liberalization was introduced in the mid-1980s, as it was recommended by the IMF and the World Bank to reduce Algeria’s foreign debt. This caused more social tensions as it further aggravated the underlying economic problems.41 The economic and social troubles of the 1980s were compounded by a complete loss of trust in the postcolonial governments dominated by the elites from the FLN (the only political party in the country until 1988), the army and the repressive security apparatus. The revolutionary rhetoric upon which the postcolonial state was established proved to be hollow and repressive of its own people’s freedoms and aspirations.42 It is against this background of desperation that the riots of October 1988 broke out, as significant segments of the youth took to the streets to express their anger at the economic and political failure of the FLN governments; they were brutally suppressed by the army which killed hundreds of unarmed civilians.



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After the massive repression of the October 1988 uprising, ‘reforms were undertaken along with fundamental revisions in the organisation, power and position of the FLN in state and society’, which aimed at separating the FLN from the state and its control of power, as well as ending the role of the army in determining the political landscape of the country.43 In an attempt to appease the national and international anger at the massacre of the rioters, Algerian President Chadli Benjdid introduced a revised constitution, which was adopted following a referendum in 1989. The new constitution had pioneering democratic reforms that included ending the one-party system dominant since independence in 1962 and encouraging the emergence of dozens of opposition parties with various political leanings. It also allowed civic associations and trade unions to come to light as well as free press. According to Entelis, Algeria’s democratic experiment after 1988 achieved a great deal in a short period of time as the country managed to open up a space for the democratic exercise of political freedom through diverse political parties; various competing political discourses were also finding their way into the public domain.44 Authoritarian structures of the state, including the brutal state security apparatus, were dismantled. These are astonishing achievements for a country that was ruled by one party (FLN), strongly backed by the military apparatus for three decades. This democratic opening-up paved the way for the rising FIS to win the first round of the 1991 parliamentary elections. Alarmed by the victory of the FIS, the Algerian army cancelled the second round of the elections in January 1992, forced President Benjdid to resign, banned FIS and imprisoned the latter’s leadership.45 Within months, the situation escalated into a brutal civil war between the military and various armed Islamist militias that lasted for a decade, costing the life of around 200,000 of Algerians.

The Military and Le Pouvoir’s Grip on Power The breakdown of Algerian society and civil war for almost a decade has left deep scars in the national psyche. Observers explain this breakdown as the combination of various factors. These included: decades of political oppression, authoritarianism and disastrous economic policies that had

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taken their toll on the population who had lost trust in the political system and its leadership;46 the inability of the FLN and the military leadership to accept the new political changes and their subsequent loss of power;47 and the postcolonial crisis of national identity fragmented along regional and ‘ethnic’ lines.48 Combined with all these factors was the fact that the reliance of the Algerian state on oil and gas as the sole income of the country exposes the fragility of its economy in times of economic instability, specially relating to low oil prices, as demonstrated in the 1988 riots.49 Some of the 1988 democratic reforms survived the military coup, particularly the multi-party political system and a moderately free press, the latter of which nonetheless suffered more restriction and censorship in the ensuing climate of fear and distrust dominating the country. However, the military and the state security apparatus or le pouvoir – known for their contempt (or ‘hogra’ in Algerian Arabic) with which they treat the aspirations and demands of ordinary Algerians – are still the effective power players in Algeria. They have controlled the political scene for decades by promoting presidents aligned to them, discarding those questioning their power, and limiting and weakening the political system in the country.50 In fact, the military and the security apparatus legitimize their power on the basis of the continuing threats posed by terrorist groups such as al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb,51 which claims its allegiance to al-Qaeda.52 Current President Boutefleka’s first election success in 1999 marked the beginning of a return to relative ‘normality’ in Algeria, as the President offered amnesty to the militias who gave up their arms – decreasing the violence considerably.53 Boutefleka’s attempt at nation-building after the trauma of the civil war has been confronted with various difficulties, especially the increasing demands of the Berber populations for cultural and political rights, and Boutefleka’s precarious relationship with the military, with the latter occasionally threatening to withdraw its support for him.54 Boutefleka has managed to reduce violence and started a process of national reconciliation through his adoption of the 1999 Law on Civil Concord and the 2005 Charter for Peace and National Reconciliation. However, he has demonstrated his authoritarian perception of power by further restricting the media and trying to control the political system.55 He orchestrated constitutional reforms that allowed the president



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to run for a third term, which were approved by the parliament in November 2008.56 This allowed Boutefleka to run successfully for a third term in the 2009 presidential elections, which were seen as being largely framed in his favour. He was supported by the country’s three largest parties, the FLN, the National Democratic Rally and the Movement for a Society of Peace; the first two having been part of his coalition government since 1999.57 This brief analysis demonstrates that the Algerian political system has been completely derailed from its ambitious democratic project of 1988 as it has effectively opted for a president for life and a political system that lacks fairness and transparency. The main political parties in the country have been co-opted by the regime and they are seen by the Algerians as being aligned with le pouvoir; smaller parties have been unable to present a united and effective opposition to challenge the regime.58 To make things worse, Algeria has been plagued with endemic corruption of the ruling elites and their plundering of the country’s economic resources and oil revenues. As Entellis claims, In the absence of effective, market-based financial intermediation, government spending – either on civil service jobs or on large infrastructure projects – is the main mechanism for distributing hydrocarbons wealth around the economy. This opens up considerable opportunities for kickbacks and embezzlement, particularly when parliamentary oversight is negligible at best. Most independent observers remain sceptical about the regime’s willingness to root out corruption among senior officials particularly members of the military officer corps and the ruling FLN.59

Whither Democratic Reforms? Today, riots have become very common among the youth of Algeria as they are the only way the youth can channel their anger with the regime and the latter’s contempt for their aspirations for economic and social justice.60 However, Algerians are wary of revolutions as they have been through the traumatic experience of civil war, from which they have not yet fully recovered. Nonetheless, Algerians took to the streets in January

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2011 to show their frustration with the bankrupt political and economic system and to protest against the rampant corruption, lack of housing and endemic youth unemployment. The Arab uprisings that swept its Eastern neighbours did not take off on a massive scale in Algeria for various reasons to do with the scars of the violence of the past, the divided opposition and fear of reprisals from the army and security apparatus. Moreover, the organization calling for the demonstrations, namely the National Coordination for Change and Democracy – which was created on 21 January 2011 after a series of protests in several cities in Algeria – may have been viewed with suspicion by many Algerians. This is because the organization is made up of small opposition parties and human rights groups and is led by the Rally for Democracy and Culture61 (unlike the 20 February Movement in Morocco, which maintains its strong independence from any political party). Algerians perceive political parties as being co-opted by le pouvoir and out of touch with the realities of their constituents.62 The National Coordination for Change and Democracy called for ‘change and democracy, the lifting of the state of emergency, the liberalization of the political and media fields and the release of people who were imprisoned for having protested against the regime or for their political opinions’.63 A large rally organized on 12 February 2011 in Algiers was swiftly contained by the Algerian government with a tight security operation (including disruption of social media and deployment of excessive numbers of police forces). A week later, President Boutefleka finally announced the lifting of the 19-year-old state of emergency; however, demonstrations are still not allowed without the permission of the state. Unfortunately, the end of martial law did not mean the end of arbitrary state detention of people and curbing of civil liberties. The President has also promised constitutional reforms, press and electoral reforms, without giving any implementation dates or details of his plans. To keep further demonstrations at bay, the government has since used financial incentives, for example raising the salaries of public servants and subsidizing food prices. The demonstrations have been contained once again with a mix of promises, repression and a quick economic fix.



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Conclusions It is still early to judge the impact of the recent constitutional reforms in Morocco and the overall democratization process. However, there are no obvious signs of the political elites losing their grip on power. How can political reforms move forward with a powerful Makhzen dominating public life and weak political parties? Moroccan political parties have failed so far to rejuvenate themselves and push for genuine democratic reforms in the country beyond the agenda set by the palace. It remains to be seen whether they will make full use of the new powers in the parliament and whether a more transparent and competent political class will emerge in the years to come. The role of civil society will be crucial in exercising pressure for further reforms and holding politicians – and the king – accountable for their deeds. It also remains to be seen whether the pro-democracy 20 February movement will survive the regime’s continuous harassment. In the case of Algeria, Boutefleka’s promise of reforms seems hollow, and the future of democratization looks uncertain at the moment, ‘as powers have slowly but certainly been concentrated in the office of the president, [and] new concerns have arisen about the sincerity and determination of Algeria’s decision-makers, both civilian and military, to pursue a full transition to democracy’.64 Moreover, the continuous curb on civil liberties and abuse of human rights at the hands of the state security apparatus in the form of arbitrary arrests and torture of those suspected of being ‘terrorists’ threaten the rule of law. This is further aggravated by the lack of judicial independence.65 The military still uses terrorism as a pretext to justify its tight grip on power. Both the Moroccan and Algerian cases show the specificity of the Arab uprisings in their forms and outcomes. The monarchy in Morocco was fast in reacting to the demonstrations and announcing reforms that have led to fair elections and the first Islamist-led coalition government in the country. Despite the changes in the constitution, the Moroccan monarchy has not given up much of its power. The Algerian regime opted for a quick economic fix to keep unrest at bay, and promised reforms that have not yet materialized. From this analysis, it becomes clear that constant civil societal pressure is needed in both countries to achieve a transition to a

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functional, truly democratic rule. The ruling political and economic elites (the Makhzen in Morocco and le pouvoir in Algeria) will not give up their privileges easily. Cosmetic political reforms and quick economic fixes deferring the democratic process will not satisfy an increasingly active civil society. The latter’s grievances against social and economic injustices and corruption will not be contained for long. It remains to be seen whether democratization in the two countries will be granted rather than taken.

Notes 1 The term Makhzen was used in the twelfth century to refer to the warehouse where taxes were kept (whether they were in currency or in kind); it has come to signify today the royal court and the ruling elite (particularly security forces, veteran politicians and economic elites). 2 James Traub, ‘Game of Thrones’, Foreign Policy, 10 June 2011, available at: http://www. foreignpolicy.com/articles/2011/06/10/game_of_thrones, accessed 18 June 2013. 3 Driss Maghraoui, ‘Constitutional reforms in Morocco: Between consensus and subaltern politics’, The Journal of North African Studies 16(4), 2011, p. 679. 4 See Abdellah Hammoudi, Master and Disciple: The Cultural Foundations of Moroccan Authoritarianism, Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1997. 5 See Gregory White, ‘The advent of electoral democracy in Morocco? The Referendum of 1996’, Middle East Journal 51(3), 1997, p. 389–404. 6 Gregory White, ‘“The end of the era of leniency” in Morocco’, in Haizam AmirahFernández and Yahia H. Zoubir (eds), North Africa: Politics, Religion and the Limits of Transformation, New York: Routledge, 2008, p. 100. 7 George Jofée, ‘Morocco’s reform process: Wider implications’, Mediterranean Politics 14(2), 2009, p. 154. 8 See George Jofée, ‘The Moroccan political system after the elections’, Mediterranean Politics 3(3), 1998, pp. 106–25. 9 Jofée, ‘Morocco’s reform process’, p. 156. 10 Ibid., p. 152. 11 Ibid., p. 161. See also Sami Zemmi and Koenraad Bogaert, ‘Trade, security and neoliberal politics: Whither Arab reform? Evidence from the Moroccan case’, The Journal of North African Studies 14(1), 2009, pp. 91–107. 12 The Lead Years (or les années de plomb) refer to the 1970s and 1980s during Hassan II’s powerful grip on power and brutal oppression of political dissidents in Morocco. See Susan Slyomovics, The Performance of Human Rights in Morocco, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005. 13 See Rachel Inn, ‘“Change within continuity”: The Equity and Reconciliation Commission and political reform in Morocco’, The Journal of North African Studies 16(1), 2011, pp. 1–17.



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14 See Equity and Reconciliation Commission, Attaqrir Al Khetami [Final Report], Rabat: Equity and Reconciliation Commission, 2005. 15 Younes Alami and Ali Amar, ‘Morocco: To tell the truth’, Le Monde Diplomatique, 6 April 2005. 16 Inn, ‘Change within continuity’, p. 12. 17 Eric Goldstein, ‘Morocco’s new truth commission: Turning the page on past human rights abuses?’, Arab Reform Bulletin 2(6), 2004; Human Rights Watch, Morocco’s Truth Commission Honoring Past Victims During an Uncertain Present, New York: Human Rights Watch, 2005. 18 For a detailed discussion of the subject, see Katja Zvan Elliott, ‘Reforming the Moroccan Personal Status Code: A revolution for whom?’, Mediterranean Politics 14(2), 2009, pp. 213–27. 19 James N. Sater, Civil Society and Political Change in Morocco, London: Routledge, 2007, pp. 150–5. 20 Maghraoui, ‘Constitutional reforms in Morocco’, p. 686. 21 For an analysis of the PJD’s negotiated inclusion in the Moroccan political system, see Michael Willis, ‘Morocco’s Islamists and the legislative elections of 2002: The strange case of the party that did not want to win’, Mediterranean Politics 9(1), 2004, pp. 53–81. 22 Jofée, ‘Morocco’s reform process’, p. 154. 23 The movement was given the name of 20 February as that was the date (in 2011) set by the young people in various social media outlets for their ‘day of rage’ or first massive pro-democracy demonstration in Morocco. 24 Maghraoui, ‘Constitutional reforms in Morocco’, p. 681. Maghraoui argues that opposition political parties in Morocco have been largely domesticated as a result of the fragmentation and proliferation of small parties. This has created what he calls ‘politics of ideological consensus’, where political parties are co-opted by the powerful Makhzen and are unable to provide alternative visions to the dominant political agenda of the monarchy. See Maghraoui, ‘Constitutional reforms in Morocco’, p. 684. 25 Ibid., p. 682. 26 Ibid., p. 683. 27 For a detailed analysis of the process of consultation and the way the decisions were imposed from above by the palace and its aides, see Maghraoui, ‘Constitutional reforms in Morocco’, pp. 692–3. 28 Ibid., p. 694. 29 For a detailed analysis of the Moroccan youth who established the 20 February movement and their distinctiveness in the contemporary history of Morocco, see Thierry Desrues, ‘Moroccan youth and the forming of a new generation: Social change, collective Action and Political Activism’, Mediterranean Politics 17(1), 2012, pp. 23–40. 30 Ibid., p. 35. 31 Maghraoui, ‘Constitutional reforms in Morocco’, p. 682. 32 A Moroccan Arabic word that means ‘we are not going to let go’. 33 Ibid., p. 690. 34 Ibid., p. 696. 35 Ibid.

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36 Immaculada Szmolka, ‘Party system fragmentation in Morocco’, The Journal of North African Studies 15(1), 2010, p. 33. 37 Francesco Cavatorta, The International Dimension of the Failed Algerian Transition: Democracy Betrayed? Perspectives on Democratization, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009, p. 124. 38 Ibid., p. 151. 39 See Benjamin Stora, Algérie, formation d’une nation, Biarritz: Atlantica, 1998 and La guerre invisible, Algérie, années 90, Paris: FNSP, 2001. 40 John P. Entelis, ‘Algeria: Democracy denied, and revived?’, The Journal of North African Studies 16(4), 2011, p. 655. 41 Ibid. 42 Ibid. 43 Ibid., p. 657. 44 Ibid., p. 658. 45 Lahouari Abdi, L’Algérie et la démocratie: pouvoir et crise du politique dans L’Algérie contemporaine, Paris : Editions de Seuil, 1995, pp. 160–83. 46 John P. Entelis, ‘Islam, democracy, and the state: The re-emergence of authoritarian politics in Algeria’, in J. Ruedy (ed.), Islamism and Secularism in North Africa, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1994. 47 William Quandt, Between Ballots and Bullets: Algeria’s Transition from Authoritarianism, Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 1998. 48 Benjamin Stora, La gangrène et l’oubli, Paris: Editions La Découverte, 1992. 49 Miriam R. Low, ‘Oil rents and political breakdown in patrimonial states: Algeria in comparative perspective’, The Journal of North African Studies 9(3), 2004, pp. 83–102. 50 J.N.C. Hill, Identity in Algerian Politics, London: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2009, pp. 193–4. 51 Al-Qaeda Organization in the Islamic Maghreb, previously known as the Salafist Group for Preaching and Combat, is the one of the few remaining militias in open war against the Algerian government. 52 Hill, Identity in Algerian Politics, p. 194. 53 William Quandt, ‘Algeria’s uneasy peace’, in Larry Diamond and Marc F. Plattner et al., Islam and Democracy in the Middle East, Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, pp. 60–1. 54 Hill, Identity in Algerian Politics, pp. 192–3. 55 Ibid. 56 Youcef Bouandel, ‘Algeria’s presidential election of April 2009’, Mediterranean Politics 14(2), 2009, p. 248. 57 Ibid., p. 250. 58 Ibid., p. 252. 59 Entelis, ‘Algeria: Democracy denied, and revived?’, p. 663. 60 Ibid., p. 674. 61 RCD is a party seen as largely representative of the Berber population in Algeria, particularly those from the Kabyle region. It is seen by the Algerian masses as being aligned with the regime because of its approval of the cancellation of the 1992 elections and the regime crackdown on the FIS. See Azzedine Layachi, ‘Algeria’s rebellion by



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instalments’, Middle East Research and Information Project, 12 March 2011, available at: http://www.merip.org/mero/mero031211, accessed 18 June 2013. 62 Ibid. 63 Ibid. 64 Entelis, ‘Algeria: Democracy denied, and revived?’, p. 672. 65 Ibid.

CHAPTER 3

Humanitarianism, Democracy and Intervention Libya and the Responsibility to Protect Ramesh Thakur

Compared to the old but increasingly discarded paradigm that held international politics to be an unrelenting struggle for power among states, in the new world order a multitude of state and non-state actors will compete for ascendancy of their preferred normative architectures that combine power with ideas and values. Reflecting this broader context, the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) is the normative instrument of choice for converting a shocked international conscience into decisive collective action – for channelling selective moral indignation into collective policy remedies – to prevent and stop atrocities. In the meantime, in the new Arab world order, the ‘natives’ have begun to write their own narratives. In a speech on 18 January 2012 to a conference to honour the international commission on the tenth anniversary of the R2P report, UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon noted that, historically, the international community’s ‘chief failing … has been the reluctance to act in the face of serious threats’, not too much intervention. The price has been the loss of far too many lives and an erosion of UN credibility. In Ban’s view, Libya in 2011 ‘demonstrated that human protection is a defining purpose of the United Nations’. But ‘the execution of our collective responsibilities was not always perfect’ in Libya and some innocent lives were lost in the name of R2P. Because of the failings and imperfections, Ban welcomed a Brazilian initiative to begin a dialogue on these matters.1 In Security Council Resolutions 1970 and 1973 in February–March 2011, the United Nations for the first time invoked R2P under the coercive Chapter VII of the UN Charter.2 By 2012, there was no substantial

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opposition to R2P as a principle or norm – an international standard of conduct – among UN member states, despite deep disquiet among many about how it was implemented by the leading NATO powers in Libya in the preceding year. During the day-long discussions at the event where Ban spoke, there was a striking depth of consensus in support of R2P principles among state representatives, UN officials, and other policy and civil society actors. There is a surprisingly shared understanding of the responsibilities. Yet, there was also a broad disquiet among many participants, verging on outright distrust in some key sections, about how far UN authorization for the Libyan operation had been stretched. This came to the fore in early 2012 with stiff Russian resistance to tough Security Council resolutions on Syria. That is, the debate on the manner and conditions of how R2P should be implemented had not yet seriously begun and may be initiated directly as a result of the Libyan experience. The Libyan experience also confirms that the debate on R2P military interventions cannot avoid the importance of state capacity, regime legitimacy and state-building. Because of the pivotal role of the Libyan crisis in activating the first UN-authorized R2P military intervention and the ensuing controversy over how the operation was carried out, the focus of this chapter is on the intersection of the Arab Spring and R2P in Libya. The first section will situate Libya in the context of the ‘Arab Awakening’; the second examines the application of R2P in the crisis; and the final section examines the prospects for consolidation of strong and democratic states in the aftermath of the Arab Spring.3 The prerequisite to enduring and sustainable order, stability, development and growth is an efficient, functioning and effective state. But the state is both more legitimate and more effective in its elemental tasks when it is democratic, inclusive and organized on principles and structures of good governance. Many of these can be informed by international debate and best practice. But no system of governance will survive and thrive if it is a foreign import. Instead, it must connect to and build on local traditions, belief systems and governance practices. At the same time, isolation and disengagement from global norms is no more an option in today’s world than is delinking from the global economy or rejecting globalization.



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The Revolt of the Arab Street The normative thrust of this chapter is to promote social democracy and market economy in the Arab world for inclusive, representative and empowering governance with built-in accountability mechanisms. Governance has both an intrinsic and an instrumental importance in shaping outsiders’ engagement with the Arab world. Validated by the global community in the UN Millennium Declaration, it is intrinsically valuable as a foundational element of human development that expands people’s life choices and opportunities and empowers whole communities. Instrumentally, it is critical to providing the systemic enabling environment for the achievement of the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs). Only through democratic good governance can the MDGs be made participatory, inclusive, equitable, accessible and affordable. Governance is ‘the sum of laws, norms, policies, and institutions that define, constitute, and mediate relations between citizens, society, market, and the state – the wielders and objects of the exercise of public power’.4 Good governance incorporates participation and empowerment with respect to public policies, choices and offices; rule of law and independent judiciary to which the executive and legislative branches of government are subject along with citizens and other actors and entities; and standards of probity and incorruptibility, transparency, accountability and responsibility. It also includes institutions in which these principles and values are embedded. Thus, democratic governance is about a process in which the perspectives of all members of any given society are brought to bear and taken into account as their interests are articulated and aggregated. Good governance thus can be considered a normative definition – concerned with laudable standards. Democracy imparts procedural as well as substantive legitimacy to the struggle for political power. As a concept, liberal democracy is both descriptive and normative. It embraces a set of political institutions (popular elections, accountable government, majoritarian decisions) and a set of principles (civil liberties, legal equality, rule of law and so on) which the institutions embody. The United States and Europe were the setting for the first wave of democratization from the early nineteenth to the early twentieth centuries. The second wave began

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after World War II and lasted until the early 1960s. The third wave, yet to crest, began in the mid-1970s and took in the fall of the Berlin Wall, the implosion of the Soviet Union and the collapse of communism in Eastern Europe, and spread also to Asia, Africa and Latin America. Although popularized by Francis Fukuyama with his catchy end of history thesis, the notion was theorized by Samuel Huntington in 1991.5 The one significant regional exception to the worldwide trend towards democratization was the Arab world. The legacy of authoritarian Arab rule has been political repression, intellectual impoverishment, economic stagnation, moral exhaustion and disorderly and risk-full transitions of power. The broader Islamic world (e.g. Indonesia, Malaysia, Bangladesh and Turkey) did not suffer from as total a democracy deficit. Moreover, the Arab internal security states were often propped up by the US national security state.6 The billiondollar-plus annual US stipend to the military-dominated government in Egypt since 1979 explains why Washington found itself behind the curve and risked positioning itself on the wrong side of history in struggling to cope with the crisis in the country. Jeffrey Goldfarb has quoted an Asian activist’s conviction that ‘American democracy requires the repression of democracy in the rest of the world’.7 The postcolonial Arab state was custom-built to serve Western interests: strong enough to keep the restive natives in check and maintain ‘stability’ at home, but too weak to challenge foreign influence and too intimidated to champion the Palestinian cause. In pursuing short-term tactical policies of buttressing the domestic and regional stability of dictators, successive US governments betrayed not just the people yearning to overthrow their local tyrants, but also their own ideals. The metaphor of the shining city on the hill, the hypnotic pull of the ringing American declaration of independence, the stirring inspiration of Lincoln’s Gettysburg address: these are not just American treasures but the common heritage of mankind. President John F. Kennedy warned that those who make peaceful change impossible make violent revolution inevitable. That is what seems to have happened. The privileging of ‘Our’ geopolitical and commercial interests over ‘Their’ freedoms and aspirations is a toxic legacy of wrong-headed Western policies for more than half a century. The face of the United States in the Arab world at the start of 2011 was that of ageing autocrats using US-backed-and-armed security forces to rob



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and brutalize their own people while presiding over corrupt and rotting political systems. Arabs are bewildered and embittered when Washington turns its face away from them so as not to antagonize friendly regimes or strategically important allies. Most Arabs would appear to seek what Americans take for granted: political freedoms, civil liberties, material prosperity, the right to keep legitimately acquired property and wealth rather than have these confiscated by government, and accountability of rulers to the rule of law. Unlike in Tehran in 1979, there were no death chants against the United States in Cairo and Alexandria in 2011. Much of the antiAmerican sentiment among Arabs arises not because they hate what the United States stands for, but because they aspire to American values and freedoms which have been systematically crushed on the back of US money, arms and training. Egypt is the intellectual, cultural and political hub of the Arab nation. President Hosni Mubarak’s Egypt had extracted handsome rent from Washington by threatening a far worse alternative if it collapsed. Obsessed firstly with the Middle East peace process that to most observers was as dead as the parrot in the Monty Python skit, and secondly with Iran, Washington had taken Egypt’s stability for granted, despite the dictator’s age, his scarcely concealed efforts to bequeath power to his son Gamal, the political and economic stagnation of the nation, and the reality of the roots of some of the 9/11 hijackers in the festering conditions of Egypt. Compulsions of short-term expediency trumped strategies of long-term vision. The world today would have been poorer and sadder if Washington had not helped to bring about an end to Soviet-style totalitarian rulers across Central and Eastern Europe, from Berlin to Poland, Georgia and Ukraine. But the world is also sadder and poorer for many because Washington has so often compromised ideals for stable relations with autocrats. From Egypt to Pakistan and beyond, Washington’s problems will not end unless and until US policy-makers recognize, and act on the acknowledgement, that dictatorship and military rule are the problem, not a solution, and that democracy, messy and untidy as it might be, is always preferable.

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After the Spring Awakening, Can the Winter of Discontent Be Far Behind? The Arab sphere, the world’s last remaining stronghold of authoritarian rulers, was haunted during 2011 by the spectre of popular democratic revolutions. By January 2012, Tunisia, Egypt and Libya had fallen, boosting the demonstration effect of the Arab Spring in several other countries. While Bahrain and Saudi Arabia weathered the strong headwinds, Yemen and Syria were quaking. However, there is nothing self-guaranteeing about any revolution. While mob rule may overthrow a dictator, there is no guarantee of a democracy. Because powerlessness has been displaced by ownership it does not mean that deprivations will disappear. A revolution can devour its authors and lead to even greater tyranny, as with the reigns of terror after the French, Russian, Chinese and Iranian revolutions; or it can lead to a republic founded in laws and ruled by democratic consent, as in the United States and repeated across Eastern Europe following the collapse of the Soviet Union. Western commentators scrambled to decipher the Arab Awakening’s larger meaning by anchoring it variously in the revolutions that swept the former Soviet apparatchiks from power across Eastern Europe in 1989; the anti-Western revolution in Iran in 1979; or the anti-regime upheaval in Iran in 2009. Outsiders could not be prescriptive – that is, telling Egyptians what to do. The dramatic explosion of pent-up anger on the ‘Arab street’ meant that Washington had to find the right balance of backing popular will, standing by a long-time ally like Mubarak, promoting regional stability, containing the threat to Israel, defeating terrorism, stopping the spread of Islamist influence and safeguarding economic interests. As the ‘Arab street’ rubs up against the Arab state, calls will intensify for an end to Israeli control over Palestinian territories, colonization of Palestinian land and confiscation of Palestinian property. Israel and the West have legitimate concerns should Mubarak give way to an Islamist regime spouting anti-Israeli and anti-Western rhetoric and policy. The 1979 peace treaty between Egypt and Israel has been the anchor of the US and Israeli search for stability in the Arab-Israeli conflict. Its fate became uncertain with the ascendancy of the Ikhwan (Muslim Brotherhood) in Egypt’s new parliament. Should Jordan be another domino to fall, Israel’s other peace treaty among its neighbours will also be under threat of repeal.



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Yet, it would be cruel irony for the West to help suppress democracy in Arab countries and then justify unconditional support to Israel as the region’s only democracy. The fate of Israel cannot be handed over to its enemies. But nor can the democratic future of 340 million Arabs be surrendered to the convenience of 7 million Israelis. How does the West reconcile its commitment to the Jewish state with its democratic convictions? Germany’s Chancellor Angela Merkel, who grew up in East Germany under the shadow of the totalitarian Soviet Union, proved more surefooted than US President Barack Obama. Speaking in the presence of US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton at the annual Munich Security Conference on 4 February 2011, she insisted that the ‘one red line that we should not cross’ is ‘a commitment to human rights, the respect of the dignity of the human being’.8 After initial stumbles, Washington did lift its game, calibrating public comments and behind-the-scenes diplomacy to reflect its multiple interests. It refused to back Mubarak or to call explicitly for his immediate departure, urging him instead to read the tealeaves and do the right thing by his country and people. This may have helped to ensure there was some daylight between Mubarak and the US-dependent Egyptian military which refused to fire on antiMubarak protestors.

The Responsibility to Protect Libyans As noted above, the application of the R2P ‘norm’ to Libya was successful but controversial. For 350 years since Westphalia, sovereignty shielded tyrants from external accountability for acts of domestic brutality. International interventions in Kosovo and East Timor in 1999 broke that mould and were the backdrop to UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan’s search for a new norm. With Canada’s help, an international commission formulated the innovative principle of R2P.9

The Origins, Meaning and Evolution of R2P It is easy to forget that the United Nations’ origins lie in the anti-Nazi wartime military alliance between Britain, the United States and the

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Soviet Union: it was never meant to be a pacifist organization. Its primary purpose is the maintenance of international peace and security. The chief responsibility for doing this is vested in the all-powerful Security Council as the world’s sole and duly sworn-in sheriff for enforcing international law and order. The system of collective security against interstate aggression never materialized. Instead, in the decades after World War II, the nature of armed conflict was transformed.10 Interstate warfare between uniformed armies gave way to irregular conflict between rival armed groups. The nature of the state, too, changed from its idealized European version. Many communist and some newly decolonized countries were internal security states whose regimes ruled through terror. Increasingly, the principal victims of both types of violence were civilians. Advances in telecommunications brought the full horror of their plight into the world’s living rooms. In the meantime, the goals of promoting human rights and democratic governance, protecting civilian victims of humanitarian atrocities and punishing governmental perpetrators of mass crimes became more important. R2P spoke eloquently to the need to change the United Nations’ normative framework in line with the changed reality of threats and victims.11 Failure to act in the 1994 Rwanda genocide12 and non-UNauthorized humanitarian intervention in Kosovo in 1999 set off angry and deeply divisive recriminations around the world for acts of omission and commission.13 In the wake of that controversy, the 2001 report by the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS) argued that the essential nature of sovereignty had changed from state privileges and immunities to the responsibility to protect people from crimes of atrocity.14 Where the state defaulted on its solemn responsibility owing to lack of will or capacity, or because it was itself complicit in the commission of the atrocities, R2P tripped upwards to the international community acting through the authenticated structures and procedures of the United Nations. The unanimous endorsement of R2P by world leaders in 2005 was historic,15 for it spoke to the fundamental purposes of the United Nations and responded to a critical challenge of the twenty-first century. Far from hollowing out R2P as outlined by ICISS, in the words of ICISS coChair Mohamed Sahnoun, the 2005 Outcome Document ‘strengthened’ R2P and gave it ‘a more substantive articulation’.16 The tweaking from



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2001 commission formulation to 2005 unanimous endorsement brought greater clarity, rigour and specificity, limiting the triggering events to war crimes, genocide, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity. This is why the United Nations did not invoke R2P during Cyclone Nargis in Myanmar in 2008 nor accept the Russian attempt to dress military intervention in South Ossetia in the language of R2P in 2009.17 Ban’s three special reports on R2P since 2009 have sustained and consolidated a new international consensus on the inherently controversial and contentious subject.18 Two New York-based civil society organizations – the Global Centre for R2P and the International Coalition for RtoP – have promoted a vigorous process of R2P norm socialization and crystallization. The annual debates by the UN General Assembly in 2009–11 on the SecretaryGeneral’s three special reports have helped to forge a shared understanding of R2P to distinguish it from humanitarian intervention and align it with building capacity to help states exercise their sovereignty more effectively. The debates show that the consensus on R2P is broadening, its legitimacy is strengthening and most states are more concerned to move on to questions of implementation.19 Thus, there have been fairly tangible conceptual and political advances in R2P from 2001 to 2011. Although R2P has not as yet been integrated and mainstreamed into the broader UN system, the widespread initial institutional resistance to it has abated and ‘been replaced by a general willingness to explore how an atrocity-prevention perspective could help inform a wide range of UN operational activities’.20 R2P attempts to strike a balance between unilateral interference and institutionalized indifference. It will help the world to be better prepared – normatively, organizationally and operationally – to meet the recurrent challenge of external military intervention wherever and whenever it arises again, as assuredly it will. To interveners, R2P offers the prospect of international legitimacy, reduced compliance and transaction costs and more effective results. To potential targets of intervention, R2P offers the reassurance of a rules-based system. Absent an agreed new set of rules, there will be nothing to stop the powerful from intervening ‘anywhere and everywhere’. R2P is narrow – it applies only to the aforementioned four atrocity crimes listed. But it is deep: there are no limits to what can be done in responding to these atrocity crimes. In a matching symmetry, support

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for R2P has been broad but shallow. R2P is not solely about military intervention. The world’s comfort level is greater with action under Pillar One (building state capacity) and Pillar Two (international assistance to build state capacity) than Pillar Three (coercive international action with the final option being military intervention to protect at-risk populations from atrocity crimes). By its very nature, including unpredictability, unintended consequences and the risk to innocent civilians caught in the crossfire, warfare is inherently brutal: there is nothing humanitarian about the means. But, to be meaningful, the R2P spectrum of action must include military force as the option of last resort. In poignant testament to its tragic origins and normative power, R2P was the discourse of choice in debating how best to respond to the Libya crisis in 2011. The UN Security Council, Human Rights Council, Secretary-General Ban and his special advisers on genocide prevention and R2P called on Libya to respect its own R2P, human rights and international humanitarian law obligations.21 When their appeals were ignored, on 26 February 2011, in Resolution 1970, the Security Council demanded an end to the violence in Libya, which ‘may amount to crimes against humanity’; imposed sanctions; affirmed Libya’s R2P obligations; and referred Gaddafi to the International Criminal Court (ICC).22 When none of this had any discernible effect in moderating Gaddafi’s assaults on his own people, Security Council Resolution 1973, adopted on 17 March 2011 by a ten for, zero against, and five abstentions (China, Russia, Brazil, Germany and India) vote, authorized the use of ‘all necessary measures … to protect civilians and civilian-populated areas’. In the Balkans, it took NATO almost the full decade to intervene with air power in Kosovo in 1999. In Libya, it took just one month to mobilize a broad coalition, secure a UN mandate to protect civilians, establish and enforce no-fly and no-drive zones, stop Gaddafi’s advancing army and prevent a massacre of the innocents in Benghazi. Although Britain and France took the lead in trying to mobilize diplomatic support for some military action to help the Libyan rebels, the critical turning point was US backing. The key decision was made by Obama at a meeting with top officials on 15 March 2011. R2P gave him the necessary intellectual and normative tool to act. He decided to side with pro-interventionist advisers in favour of a definition of the Libyan crisis that was closer to his instincts and consistent with the narrative that won him the White House.23 The game-changer was the juxtaposition



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of R2P as a powerful new galvanizing norm; the defection of Libyan diplomats who joined the chorus of calls from the rebels for immediate action to protect civilians; and Arab, French and British participation that provided political cover and international legitimacy. In Iraq in 2003, Washington was the ardent suitor for military intervention. In Libya in 2011, Washington was the reluctant follower. Obama’s insistence that the United States would not be deploying ground troops aligned military means to the limited ambitions and objectives: humanitarian protection, not regime change.24 In contrast to the Bush doctrine, under Obama the United States would act in concert with others, not alone; coax, persuade and heed, not impose its will; and set clear limits on goals and means. This did not please some shadow warriors. Referring to the role of Hillary Clinton, Susan Rice and Samantha Power in the decision to join the intervention against the inclinations of Defense Secretary Robert Gates, National Security Adviser Thomas Donilan and Chief of Counterterrorism John Brennan, Jacob Heilbrunn derided Obama for effectively having been henpecked into interventionism by ‘these Valkyries of foreign affairs’.25 Not to be outdone on misogyny, Mark Krikorian commented caustically that ‘our commander-in-chief is an effete vacillator who is pushed around by his female subordinates’.26

Norm Consolidation By the end of 2011, Gaddafi had been ousted, captured and killed. Yet the jury is still out on whether NATO military action in Libya will consolidate or soften the R2P norm. At the time of writing in January 2012, sporadic gun battles were still breaking out in Tripoli between rival militias, prompting Mustafa Abdul Jalil, the head of Libya’s interim government, to warn of the danger of a descent into civil war.27 There were inconsistencies in the muted response to protests and uprisings in Bahrain and Saudi Arabia, where vital Western geopolitical and oil interests are directly engaged, and with the lack of equally forceful military action in Syria and Yemen.28 Western failures to defend the dignity and rights of Palestinians under Israeli occupation have been especially damaging to their claims to promote human rights and oppose humanitarian atrocities universally instead of selectively.

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Despite the doubts, the alternative of standing idly on the sidelines yet again would have added to the shamefully long list of rejecting the collective responsibility to protect. Gaddafi would have prevailed and embarked on a methodical killing spree of rebel leaders, cities and regions alley by alley, house by house, room by room. Had the world shirked its responsibility, Libya could have been the graveyard of R2P and the UN might as well have sounded the last post for it. The Libyan people’s euphoria and NATO’s relief over the successful military campaign is likely to temper criticisms of the manner in which NATO rode roughshod over UN authorization to protect civilians. The outcome is a triumph first and foremost for the citizen soldiers who refused to let fear of Gaddafi’s thugs determine their destiny any longer. It is a triumph secondly for R2P. It is possible for the international community, working through the authenticated, UN-centred structures and procedures of organized multilateralism, to deploy international force to neutralize the military might of a thug and intervene between him and his victims. NATO military muscle deployed on behalf of UN political will helped to level the killing field between citizens and a tyrant. However, the ruins of Libya’s political infrastructure and parlous state of its coffers mean that the third component of R2P in the ICISS formulation – the international responsibility to rebuild and reconstruct29 – will also come into play, as will be discussed below in the final section. The willingness, nature and duration of outside aid will help to shape the judgement of history on whether Western motivations were primarily self-interested geopolitically and commercially, or the disinterested desire to protect civilians from a murderous rampage. As with the war itself, however, the lead role will have to be assumed by Libyans themselves, while the international community can assist without assuming ownership of the process or responsibility for the outcome. The price of that in turn may require the international community to accept and live with the political choices made by the Libyans. Iraq showed an unexpected determination in refusing to exempt US forces from its laws and so Washington decided to pull out all combat forces by the end of 2011. Similarly, in insisting that sharia (Islamic law) would be the main reference point for the new Libya’s legal framework, the Transitional National Council (TNC) was telling its own people, the region and the world that it did not foresee being a mere puppet of the West. The obeisance to a moderate form of



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political Islam appeases Muslim and buttresses domestic and regional legitimacy by drawing on traditional and religious wellsprings of legitimacy while signalling a deliberate distancing from the West. Yet, simultaneously, there is also an acceptance of democratic rules, stated openness to democratic institutions, and willingness to integrate with world markets. It is possible that the TNC looks to today’s Turkey as the primary model: increasingly self-confident geopolitically, integrated into the international economy, but also religiously conservative. In addition, the growing global profile of the powerful non-Western players from the BRICS – Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa – gives Libya room for manoeuvre in setting the new terms of engagement with the West. This includes the challenging question of relations with Israel, on which the BRICS are not captives of Israeli intransigence like the West seems to be.

R2P and a North–South and West–East Dialogue Albeit qualified and incomplete, therefore, events in Libya do mark an important milestone on the journey to tame atrocities on their own people by tyrants. But, inevitably, the first UN-authorized military intervention under R2P Pillar Three also showed flaws and imperfections in the machinery of implementation that will need to be addressed. With the capture and killing of Gaddafi, hard questions, unasked so as not to complicate the push for victory, came to the fore. Who are the rebels? What do they stand for? For whom do they speak? How much popular support do they command? Carefully crafted both to authorize and delimit the scope of intervention, Resolution 1973 specified the purpose of military action as humanitarian protection and limited the means to that goal. At a time when the recapture of Benghazi by Gaddafi loyalists seemed imminent, it authorized military action to prevent such civilian slaughter but not to intervene in the civil war (any state has the right to use force to suppress armed uprisings), not to effect regime change, and not to occupy Libya. Gaddafi was not to be directly targeted. NATO ignored the restrictions of Resolution 1973 to aim directly at regime change, spurned hints of any willingness by the Gaddafi regime to negotiate a ceasefire, intervened in the internal civil war and

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broke the United Nations’ arms embargo by supplying weaponry to the rebels. Civilian casualties were greatly reduced but not totally eliminated in NATO air strikes on Gaddafi loyalists over several months. Many civilians, including women and children, were killed when asleep in their homes.30 Overall, by the time that Gaddafi was captured and killed, up to 30,000 civilians may have died in the war.31 An independent report by a Middle Eastern human rights group concluded that war crimes and human rights violations were committed by all participants during the armed conflict in Libya, including NATO.32 If 1973 restrictions had been respected, the civil war and the international intervention could well have been longer, more protracted, messier, and could have prolonged the misery for everyone concerned. Ignoring them may thus well have been justified on the logic of military necessity and efficiency. The US, British and French leaders noted in a joint article that although the goal of military action was ‘not to remove Qaddafi [sic] by force … it is impossible to imagine a future for Libya with Qaddafi [sic] in power’.33 But the insistence by some NATO powers that they fully adhered to UN-authorized ‘all necessary measures’ to protect civilians and civilian-populated areas insults the intelligence of the critics and enrages instead of placating them. R2P is not and ought not to be a North–South issue. Many non-Western societies have a historical tradition of reciprocal rights and obligations that bind sovereigns and subjects. Emperor Ashoka (269–232 bce), one of India’s greatest rulers, proclaimed that ‘this is my rule: government by the law, administration according to the law, gratification of my subjects under the law, and protection through the law’.34 By contrast, the theory and practice of sovereignty is decidedly European in origin. Just as in the successful transition from the deeply divisive and polarizing unilateral humanitarian intervention framework to the consensual, rules-based and collective R2P one, the debate on how best to operationalize R2P requires a respectful conversation among proponents and sceptics over when, how and by whom to execute the international responsibility to protect. The consensus on R2P in ICISS in 2001 and at the UN summit in 2005 resulted from a genuine dialogue within the commission, in an extensive outreach and consultation exercise undertaken by ICISS with pan-regional interlocutors in every continent, and successive rounds of intensive consultations across the UN membership since 2005.



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The global South’s comfort level with R2P grew steadily as they studied the principle closely and recognized that all legitimate concerns had been incorporated. Had R2P merely repackaged the Western humanitarian warriors’ wishes and brushed aside the sensitivities of the formerly colonized, it never would have gained rapid uptake and traction culminating in unanimous endorsement by world leaders in 2005. Ban Ki-moon’s three reports so far have attempted to sustain and consolidate a new global consensus on what is an inherently controversial and contentious subject. The leading NATO powers, instead of being disdainful of and disrespectful towards the critics – including Germany as well as Brazil, China, India, South Africa and many others – of how R2P was implemented in Libya, should listen, acknowledge and accommodate legitimate concerns. This is desirable in principle. It is also required as a matter of pragmatism as the world order is rebalanced militarily, economically and geopolitically, with power and influence shifting from the North to the South. But if we take the BRICS into account, it may also be in the process of rebalancing from West to East. The R2P consensus underpinning Resolution 1973 was damaged by gaps in expectation, communication and accountability between those who mandated the operation and those who executed it. One important result of the gaps was a split in the international response to the ongoing crisis in Syria. UN estimates put the number killed in Syria’s yearlong crackdown on protestors at over 5,000 by January 2012. Many Arab and Western countries had introduced a draft Security Council resolution that would require an end to the flow of arms into Syria, have Syria’s President Bashar al-Assad yield key powers to a deputy, establish a government of national unity, and begin preparations for free presidential and parliamentary elections. Russian spokesmen in New York and Moscow warned that such a resolution would put Syria on the path to civil war, and that the Security Council was not in the business of imposing the parameters of an internal political settlement on member states and dictating to them who stays in power and who must go. Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov said that although Russia could not stop others from undertaking an armed intervention, it would not be a party to it nor endorse it in a Security Council resolution. Analysts explained the Russian policy by pointing to Russian arms sales to Syria, the recent reopening of a Russian naval supply base at Tartus, fears of a loss of international credibility if an ally

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was abandoned under pressure from abroad, and a sense of frustration and humiliation at how Resolution 1973 in Libya was abused to effect regime change in Libya.35 Brazil has offered a paper on ‘Responsibility while Protecting’ which, although rough in some parts, has the potential to bring in some agreed parameters on the conditions that will govern the use of UN-authorized R2P operations.36 It certainly speaks to the core of the concerns about how 1973-mandated R2P was implemented in Libya. Its two key elements are to formulate an agreed set of criteria or guidelines to help the Security Council in the debate before an R2P military intervention is authorized, and a monitoring or review mechanism to ensure that the Council has an oversight role and exercises supervisory control over the operation during implementation. As exemplified in the Brazilian initiative, the critics should engage with R2P and seek to improve the means and manner of implementing the norm. This way, the Southern players will become joint and responsible stakeholders in the emerging new world order. Value-free pragmatism is no more an answer to the challenge of reconciling realism and idealism than opportunistic humanitarianism. Brazil, China, Germany, India and Russia joined the African Union (AU) in positioning themselves on the wrong side of the war in Libya – as witnessed in the triumphal visit of British Prime Minister David Cameron and French President Nicolas Sarkozy to Libya in September – and on the wrong side of history insofar as the emerging normative architecture is concerned. The AU moved to recognize the rebel TNC on 20 September 2011, only after they had captured Tripoli. Among others, one risk for the AU is that the new Libya regime will highlight its Arab heritage and identity over its African one.37 The reason this matters is that, following the Libya precedent, regional organizations may well acquire a critical ‘gatekeeping role’ in the global authorization of R2P-type operations.38 As long as the rising new powers remain more concerned with consolidating their national power aspirations than developing the norms and institutions of global governance,39 they will remain incomplete powers, limited by their own narrow ambitions, with their material grasp being longer than their normative reach. When it came to the crunch, in Libya, state security was prioritized over human security by the AU. The progressive agenda of promoting democracy, human rights and good governance, as well as economic development,



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needs to be taken ‘much more seriously within the AU system than has been the case thus far’.40 This will have to include instruments of monitoring compliance of member state behaviour.

Nation-Building and State-Making In its original report a decade ago, ICISS did not include the overthrow of democratic government as a legitimate reason to launch an international military intervention. This was deliberate. ICISS discussed but discarded both democracy and human rights in general as necessary or sufficient causes to trigger international interventions. But ICISS did say that the third responsibility – to rebuild and reconstruct after external military intervention to protect human populations – would have to address issues of good governance and human rights embedded in robust and resilient institutions. Otherwise, interventions would prove to be in vain. The state is the most substantial manifestation of political power that has been depersonalized, formalized and integrated into the greater social whole.41 The modern state and much of the theoretical literature about it originated in Europe. State nationalism also originated in Europe. The prime determinant of a nation is psychological: the belief that a particular ethno-national group constitutes a distinct, imagined political community.42 The primary definition of a state is juridical: a legal entity endowed with certain rights, privileges and obligations in international law connoting a territorially demarcated administrative unit. The state used its institutions and resources to promote national identity in order to consolidate and legitimize itself by manipulating these powerful new symbols: ‘We have made Italy. Now we must make Italians,’ Massimo Taparelli, Marquis d’Azeglio  (1798–1866) famously said. The campaign was so successful that national self-determination became shorthand for the idea that nationalism requires the creation of a sovereign state for every nation. The nation-state became the focus of cultural identity. Yet, the relationship between ‘nation’ and ‘state’ has been historically contingent rather than logically necessary. This is very much true in the Middle East, where the Arab nation is split into several states. Although some countries are ethnically quite homogenous and show a considerable overlap between the ‘nation’ and the territorial boundaries of the state, most are not.

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A strong state is necessary to ensure order, look after national security and intervene in the management of the national economy. Yet the consolidation of state power can be used in the name of national security and law and order to suppress people’s freedoms and aspirations, plunder the resources of a society and turn the state into a tool of a narrow family, clique or sect. Thus, what is needed is a balanced strong state: among citizens, civil society, media, market and the state; and among the different components like the legislature, executive, judiciary, bureaucracy, police and military. Historically, democracy is rooted in the growth of capitalism and market democracies have the best record of sustained prosperity. Democracies also facilitate the achievement of the necessary social compromises between capital and labour, efficiency and equity, and growth and equality. In the postcolonial world, no anti-capitalist developing country succeeded in establishing a durable democracy. But even many countries that chose the capitalist route to development failed to move to democratic governance. On the other hand, while economic success may not necessarily bring democracy, economic failure does threaten the survival of democracy. Unlike China, India is a vibrant, chaotic and rambunctious democracy where governments are ‘hired and fired’ by the people. Is India’s slower economic growth a price of democracy? Not really. India’s economic sluggishness for four decades was due to bad policies, not weaknesses inherent in democracy. China’s performance under Mao Zedong was no better and, in many ways, the human cost was far greater. The economic performance of both countries changed dramatically, without any change in their basic political systems, once they abandoned their old socialist dogmas, liberalized and deregulated their economies by adopting market principles, and embraced and engaged with the international economy. In Asian Drama, Gunnar Myrdal described Asia as a continent trapped in unequal exchange with the West.43 One of the major strands of development theory held that the only solution for developing Asia was to adopt state-led and directed industrial policies, Soviet-style planning, frontier protection for import-substitution policies, and infusions of foreign aid (capital and expertise). As Razeen Sally noted in the 2011 Hayek Lecture, today’s ‘Asian Drama’ is ‘the exact opposite of Myrdal’s diagnosis and prognosis’, a dynamism unleashed by the liberalization and deregulation of internal market, external trade and services, of product



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and factor markets, and of domestic and foreign investment.44 And Asia’s success in turn was at the heart of the uniquely successful combination of globalization, growth and prosperity in the 1980–2008 period. China’s continuing rise and the more recent economic successes of Brazil and India have revived interest in the notion of a ‘developmental state’, with differing needs, strategies and growth trajectories from the socalled ‘Anglo-American’ model. With the former, the developmental goals of strengthening state capacity, promoting social cohesion, maintaining territorial integrity and political independence, resisting encroachments on national sovereignty, and achieving economic growth to underpin and bankroll material progress and human development receive top priority.

Conclusion In sum, the R2P operation in Libya in 2011 can be described as successful but controversial and contested. A regime that had lost domestic and international legitimacy declared war on its own people. Global political responses were shaped by universal values as well as strategic interests. Because the United Nations is taking the lead in redefining sovereignty by aligning state prerogatives with the will and consent of the people, the ruling class of any country must now fear the risk and threat of international economic, criminal justice and military action if they violate global standards of conduct and cross UN red lines of behaviour.45 At the time of completing this chapter in January 2012 – a year after the tumultuous events in Egypt and nine months after the R2P-implementing UN resolutions on Libya, international opinion was divided on whether or not to draw on R2P for intervening in Syria.46 Russia in particular was strongly opposed to any Security Council resolution that could set in train a sequence of events leading to a 1973-type Resolution authorization for outside military operations in Syria. In the continuing evolution and development of R2P both as a standard of state conduct and as a policy template to guide the international community’s engagement with outbreaks of atrocities inside sovereign jurisdictions, the UN Security Council will take on the role of implementing R2P while the General Assembly assumes the role of refining the concept and building political understanding and support for the norm. In both tasks, partnerships among global, regional and

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national governmental and non-governmental organization (NGO) actors will be required. It will also be necessary to convince non-state actors and armed groups that R2P applies to them as well. The principal targets of ‘international’ interventions are non-Western countries and the beneficiaries of such action are mainly non-Western peoples. The conversations about the nature, implementation and limits to R2P should therefore involve mostly non-Westerners. If R2P promotion is dominated by Western faces and voices, it will instil cynicism instead of garnering support from others. Similarly, it has been argued in this chapter that in looking to models to emulate, post-conflict Libya and other Arab states could do worse than turn their gaze from the West to Asia in the East in the crucial tasks of nation-building, state-building and economic development.

Notes 1 Ban Ki-moon, ‘Address to Stanley Foundation Conference on the Responsibility to Protect’, UN News Centre, 18 January 2012, available at: http://www.un.org/apps/news/ infocus/sgspeeches/statments_full.asp?statID=1433, accessed 24 January 2012. 2 For a range of diverse opinions and perspectives on R2P and Libya, see Alex Stark (ed.), The Responsibility to Protect: Challenges and Opportunities in Light of the Libyan Intervention, 2011, available at: http://www.e-ir.info/2011/11/21/the-responsibility-toprotect-challenges-opportunities-in-light-of-the-libyan-intervention/comment-page1/#comment-37850, accessed 30 January 2012. 3 I do not take a position on the terminological debate over what precisely to call the events across much of the Arab world in 2011. Other chapters in this volume engage in that debate. In this chapter, ‘Arab Spring’ and ‘Arab Awakening’ are used interchangeably as a proxy description of the totality of events whereby people power toppled many long-reigning autocrats. 4 Thomas G. Weiss and Ramesh Thakur, Global Governance and the UN: An Unfinished Journey, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2010, pp. 5–6. 5 See Francis Fukuyama, The End of History and the Last Man, New York: Avon, 1992, and Samuel P. Huntington, The Third Wave: Democratization in the Late Twentieth Century, Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991. 6 See Michael J. Hogan, A Cross of Iron: Harry S. Truman and the Origins of the National Security State, 1945–1954, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000; Seth G. Jones, Olga Oliker, Peter Chalk et al., Securing Tyrants or Fostering Reform? U.S. Internal Security Assistance to Repressive and Transitioning Regimes, Santa Monica, CA: Rand, 2006; Norrin M. Ripsman and T.V. Paul, Globalization and the National Security State, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010; Douglas C. Stuart, Creating the National Security State: A History of the Law That Transformed America, Princeton: Princeton



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University Press, 2008; and Gary Wills, Bomb Power: The Modern Presidency and the National Security State, London: Penguin, 2010. 7 Jeffrey C. Goldfarb, ‘Losing young allies in the war on terror’, International Herald Tribune, 21 August 2002. 8 Judy Dempsey, ‘Looking to Egypt’s future, Merkel recalls her past’, New York Times, 6 February 2011, available at: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/06/world/ europe/06merkel.html, accessed 1 February 2012. 9 See Gareth Evans, The Responsibility to Protect: Ending Mass Atrocity Crimes Once and for All, Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 2008; Ramesh Thakur, The Responsibility to Protect: Norms, Laws and the Use of Force in International Politics, London: Routledge, 2011 and People vs. the State: Reflections on UN Authority, US Power and the Responsibility to Protect, Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 2011; Thomas G. Weiss, Humanitarian Intervention, London: Polity, 2007; and Alex J. Bellamy, Responsibility to Protect: The Global Effort to End Mass Atrocities, Cambridge: Polity, 2009. 10 See Andrew Mack et al., Human Security Report 2005, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. 11 For an account of the UN’s transformation since 1945, see Ramesh Thakur, The United Nations, Peace and Security: From Collective Security to the Responsibility to Protect, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. 12 See Kingsley Moghalu, Rwanda’s Genocide: The Politics of Global Justice, Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005. 13 See Albrecht Schnabel and Ramesh Thakur (eds), Kosovo and the Challenge of Humanitarian Intervention: Selective Indignation, Collective Action, and International Citizenship, Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 2000. 14 International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty, The Responsibility to Protect, Ottawa: International Development Research Centre for ICISS, 2001. 15 2005 World Summit Outcome, adopted by UN General Assembly Resolution A/RES/60/1, 24 October 2005, paras 138–40. 16 ‘Interview with Mohamed Sahnoun’, Global Responsibility to Protect (GR2P), 3(4), 2011, pp. 473–9 at p. 474. 17 See Thakur, Responsibility to Protect, pp. 149–56, and Walter Kemp, Vesselin Popovski and Ramesh Thakur (eds), Blood and Borders: The Responsibility to Protect and the Problem of the Kin-State, Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 2011. 18 Implementing the Responsibility to Protect, A/63/677 (12 January 2009); Early Warning, Assessment, and the Responsibility to Protect, A/64/864 (14 July 2010); and The Role of Regional and Subregional Arrangements in Implementing the Responsibility to Protect, A/65/877-S/2011/393 (28 June 2011). 19 Mónica Serrano, ‘The Responsibility to Protect and its critics: Explaining the consensus’, GR2P 3(4) (2011), pp. 425–37. 20 Edward C.Luck, ‘The Responsibility to Protect: The first decade’, GR2P 3(4), 2011, pp. 387–99, at p. 391. 21 See ‘Security Council press statement on Libya’, United Nations document SC/10180 AFR/2120, 22 February 2011, available at: http://www.un.org/News/Press/docs/2011/ sc10180.doc.htm, accessed 5 September 2011; ‘Ban strongly condemns Qadhafi’s

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29 30 31

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Democracy and Reform in the Middle East and Asia actions against protesters, calls for punishment’, available at: http://www.un.org/apps/ news/story.asp?NewsID=37599, accessed 5 September 2011; and http://www.un.org/ en/preventgenocide/adviser/statements.shtml, accessed 18 June 2013. United Nations document S/RES/1970 (2011). See Helene Cooper and Steven Lee Myers, ‘Obama takes hard line with Libya after shift by Clinton’, New York Times, 18 March 2011, available at: http://www.nytimes. com/2011/03/19/world/africa/19policy.html?_r=1&scp=5&sq=samantha%20 power%20libya%20obama%20gates&st=cse, accessed 5 September 2011. The commendable initial clarity was soon muddied, and policy benchmarks made needlessly tougher, when Obama joined the British and French leaders in writing that although the goal of military action was ‘not to remove Qaddafi by force’, ‘it is impossible to imagine a future for Libya with Qaddafi in power’. Barack Obama, David Cameron and Nicolas Sarkozy, ‘Libya’s pathway to peace’, International Herald Tribune, 14 April 2011. Jacob Heibrunn, ‘America’s foreign policy Valkyries: Hillary Clinton, Samantha Power, and Susan Rice’, National Interest, 21 March 2011, available at: http://nationalinterest. org/blog/jacob-heilbrunn/americas-foreign-policy-valkyries-hillary-clintonsamantha-p-5047, accessed 5 September 2011. Mark Krikorian, ‘They know who wears the pants in this country’, National Review Online, 21 March 2011, available at: http://www.nationalreview.com/corner/262607/ they-know-who-wears-pants-country-mark-krikorian, accessed 5 September 2011. Kim Sengupta, ‘Libya’s leader warns of civil war after Tripoli gun battles’, Independent (London), 5 January 2012, http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/africa/libyasleader-warns-of-civil-war-after-tripoli-gun-battles-6285034.html, accessed 5 January 2012. For a study of the many inconsistencies in groups suffering from man-made conflicts and natural disasters who are given international protection, see Elizabeth G. Ferris, The Politics of Protection: The Limits of Humanitarian Action, Washington, DC: Brookings, 2011. The substance of this is incorporated within Pillar Two (international assistance) in the subsequent reformulation of R2P by Secretary-General Ban. See C.J. Chivers and Eric Schmitt, ‘In strikes on Libya by NATO, an unspoken civilian toll’, New York Times, 17 December 2011. Karin Laub (Associated Press), ‘Libyan estimate: at least 30,000 died in the war’, Boston Herald, 8 September 2011, available at: http://www.bostonherald.com/news/ international/africa/view.bg?articleid=1364314, accessed 5 January 2012. Rachel Shabi, ‘Nato accused of war crimes in Libya’, Independent, 19 January 2012, available at: http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/africa/nato-accused-of-warcrimes-in-libya-6291566.html?, accessed 23 January 2012. Obama, Cameron and Sarkozy, ‘Libya’s pathway to peace’. Quoted in Stanley Wolpert, A New History of India, New York: Oxford University Press, 1977, pp. 66–7. Colum Lynch and Will Englund, ‘Clinton, diplomats urge Russia to allow Security Council vote on Syria’, Washington Post, 1 February 2012; Will Englund, ‘Russia has pride, contracts at stake in Syria’, Washington Post, 1 February 2012; ‘Russia warns the



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UN on Syria plan’, Age (Melbourne), 2 February 2012. 36 ‘Responsibility while protecting: Elements for the development and promotion of a concept’, New York: United Nations, General Assembly and Security Council, document A/66/551–S/2011/701, 11 November 2011. 37 See Knox Chitiyo, ‘Has Africa lost Libya?’, Guardian, 19 September 2011, available at: http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/sep/18/africa-libya-not-lost, accessed 19 September 2011. 38 See Alex J. Bellamy and Paul D Williams, ‘The new politics of protection? Côte d’Ivoire, Libya and the Responsibility to Protect’, International Affairs, 87(4), 2011, pp. 825–50. 39 See Amitav Acharya, ‘Can Asia lead? Power ambitions and global governance in the twenty-first century’, International Affairs, 87(4), 2011, pp. 851–69. 40 Solomon A. Dersso, ‘Lessons from North African uprisings for 2012 as the AU’s Year of “Shared Values”’, ISS Weekly 1, 20 January 2012, available at: http://www.issafrica. org/iss_today.php?ID=1411&utm_source=ISS%2BWeekly%2BIssue%2B1&utm_ medium=Email&utm_content=ISS%2BToday&utm_campaign=Weekly% 2BIssue%2B1, accessed 30 January 2012. 41 Gianfranco Poggi, The State: Its Nature, Development and Prospect, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1990. 42 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, London: Verso, 1983, and Jim MacLaughlin, Reimagining the NationState: The Contested Terrains of Nation-Building, London: Pluto Press, 2001. 43 Gunnar Myrdal, Asian Drama: An Inquiry into the Poverty of Nations, New York: Twentieth Century Fund, 1968. 44 Razeen Sally, ‘Liberty outside the West’, Lecture for the Hayek Tage, Freiburg, 10 June 2011. 45 For the intimate relationship between the twin normative agendas of R2P and international criminal justice, see Ramesh Thakur and Vesselin Popovski, ‘The Responsibility to Protect and prosecute: The parallel erosion of sovereignty and impunity’, in Giuliana Ziccardi Capaldo (ed.), The Global Community: Yearbook of International Law and Jurisprudence 2007, New York: Oxford University Press, 2008, pp. 39–61. 46 See, for example, Anne-Marie Slaughter, ‘How the world could – and maybe should – intervene in Syria’, The Atlantic, 23 January 2012, available at: http://www. theatlantic.com/international/archive/2012/01/how-the-world-could-and-maybeshould-intervene-in-syria/251776, accessed 30 January 2012; Shari Hamid, ‘Why we have a responsibility to protect Syria’, The Atlantic, January 2012, available at: http:// www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2012/01/why-we-have-a-responsibilityto-protect-syria/251908, accessed 30 January 2012; ‘Hold your horses’, editorial, The Economist, 28 January 2012, available at: http://www.economist.com/node/21543542, accessed 30 January 2012.

CHAPTER 4

Afghanistan and Iraq Between Democracy and Radical Islam Amin Saikal

Many scholars have long argued that only indigenous processes can lead to effective democratization of a polity. The criteria by which they generally evaluate the pace, success and outcome of democratization go beyond the ideals and experiences of traditional democracies, like Britain, France, the United States and Australia. These scholars also take into account the national peculiarities and circumstances of the country subjected to democratic reforms, and contend that the methods and outcomes can differ from country to country. On the other hand, some conservative analysts have argued that exogenous stimuli can assist in speeding up the processes of democratization, which otherwise can be very slow, drawn out and possibly very turbulent. They have advocated interventionism, even to the point of military action, by the leading democracies, most importantly the United States, to pave the way for transformations of authoritarian states to democratic ones. They are hooked more on Western criteria of what constitutes democratization and democracy than on what can be achieved commensurate to the realities on the ground in the given country.1 Their choice of the state that should be subjected to interventionist democratization is determined by not only ideology but also geopolitical preferences. Afghanistan and Iraq are often cited as examples of such states, where US-led interventions, it is claimed, have resulted in processes of transition to a democracy. Despite their differences in approach, scholars from both sides of the divide share the common view that democratization is not an event; rather, it is a journey that requires progress from one stage to another, from procedural or minimalist to substantive democracy. The first stage entails the establishment of a popularly mandated government, personifying ‘people’s sovereignty’, based on pluralist contestation of

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power through regular, free and fair elections, and therefore a peaceful transfer of power from one individual or group to another. The final stage – substantive democracy – has historically proved to be the hardest. It requires a state to build upon the procedural forms in order to achieve a set of principles, values and practices that are normally associated with Western notions of liberal democracy. They include the rule of law, separation of powers, freedom of expression and congregation, observation of human rights as enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, protection of minorities and creation of opportunities for all citizens, as well as a political culture conducive to the growth and maintenance of these imperatives. The purpose of this chapter is to assess the Afghan and Iraqi experiences, with a special emphasis on the issue of governing elite fragmentation to the extent that it has affected the processes of democratization in the two countries. Elite fragmentation has generally been overlooked in the barrage of scholarly work which has so far been published about Afghanistan and Iraq. In the process, the objective is also to determine whether or not externally induced democratization has worked, and whether Afghanistan and Iraq have built the necessary capacities to move towards accomplishing a substantive form of democracy in the foreseeable future. Afghanistan and Iraq are very different from each other. Yet, it is their similarities rather than differences that have proved to be instrumental in their processes of change and development. The most relevant common feature that they have shared since 2001 and 2003 respectively is their subjection to externally induced processes of transition to democratic change under conditions of US-led occupation, making the processes largely foreign-imposed and alien to a majority of their populations. This feature is accompanied by a number of other similarities which have been either generated as a result of the foreign intervention, or are rooted in the historical makeup of the two countries, but have nonetheless mitigated against foreign-driven changes. They include first of all the fact that both countries’ identities are deeply entangled with Islam and authoritarian rule in one form or another; neither have had a tradition of democracy, to which its populace could relate. The second is that they are both very socially divided along ethnic, tribal, linguistic and sectarian lines, with various segments of their populations having extensive cross-border ties with their neighbours. The third is that the



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USA, and for that matter, the international community, have not had a well-co-ordinated or appropriate post-invasion strategy of state-building for either country. The fourth is that there is a serious conflict between what the United States and some of its Western partners have wanted to achieve in terms of their geopolitical preferences in these countries and the region, and the direction that regional actors, including some US allies, have sought to shape the region in pursuit of their individual conflicting political and security interests. In this regard, one must bear in mind that all regional actors, with the exception of Turkey, have had an authoritarian or semi-authoritarian political culture. As such, there is clearly no national, regional or international consensus on what would be an acceptable level of democratization in either of the countries that could fulfil the Western standards on the one hand, and resonate adequately with the cultural and social milieus that have been dominant in each of the two countries, and with regional dynamics, on the other. At the heart of these common features lies the post-US intervention governing elite fragmentation. Both Afghanistan and Iraq are governed by internally divided and overall ineffective elites, which have come to preside over corrupt and dysfunctional governmental systems. The governing elite is seriously challenged by counter-elite and countersystemic actors. While the counter-elite actors have sought largely to pursue their objectives from within the margins of the government, their counter-systemic counterparts (and their affiliates) have mounted an armed struggle from outside the governmental system, and in this they are aided and abetted by outside players. The counter-systemic actors have violently rejected the US-induced political processes and generally demanded a transformation of their societies along religious (and in the case of Iraq also nationalist) lines. Lethal among them have been those groups that have taken up the cause of radical political Islamism as an ideology of salvation and transformation, and by the same token a mode of violent resistance to what they have regarded as foreign impositions in order to achieve their political and ideological objectives. This has been particularly so when the fragmented ruling elite and their international supporters in each country have failed to forge a common, effective strategy to deliver on the promise of institutionalizing politics and bringing peace and prosperity to a majority of the population.

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The result has been the placement of Afghanistan and Iraq generally between two opposing ideological poles and approaches. If these are not appropriately bridged, neither of these countries is likely to overcome their current instability to achieve long-term security and viability, least of all a substantive form of democracy. These variables have been instrumental in denying the USA and its allies the necessary effective mechanisms of control on the ground, and thwarting the pro-democracy processes of change and development which they have desired so much in the two countries. The muted, if not non-existent, effect of the Arab Spring on the domestic politics of Afghanistan and Iraq is a reflection of what one can argue as being ‘democratization fatigue’ in both countries. Where the Arab Spring has had an effect is on Iraq’s foreign policy matrix – the central Shi‘a-dominated Baghdad regime fears a possible ‘contagion effect’ of the Syrian insurgency on the Sunnis in western Iraq.2 Their common features have confronted Afghanistan and Iraq with the unenviable task of finding a workable nexus between what is demanded of them externally and what is achievable domestically and regionally. The establishment of such a nexus has so far proved to be extremely difficult. Let us now examine the situation of the two countries individually against this backdrop.

Afghanistan Afghanistan has historically been characterized by a weak state in dynamic relations with a strong society. Its population is composed of various ethnic, tribal, linguistic and cultural groups, each forming a distinct micro-society.3 The most salient common thread that runs through these cleavages is the religion of Islam, which has largely been understood and practised at the village level. Even in this respect, some 80 per cent of the population are followers of Sunni Islam, with most of the rest being adherents to Shi‘i Islam. There are further sub-divisions that exist within each of these sectarian components.4 The social and cultural divisions, together with the country’s strategic location, have instrumentally impeded national unity and attempts at institutionalized state-building ever since the foundation of modern Afghanistan as an identifiable political and territorial unit in the mid-eighteenth century.5 Although Afghanistan has been a zone of conflict since the 1978



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communist takeover and subsequent internecine conflict and Pakistan’s ‘creeping invasion’, culminating in the establishment of the Taliban’s theocratic rule in the 1990s, the country’s micro-societies have continued to remain salient in shaping Afghan politics and society. However, since the tragic events of 11 September 2001 and Washington’s immediate response to them in the form of the socalled ‘war on terror’, starting with Operation ‘Enduring Freedom’ in Afghanistan, three new accretions on these social divisions have come to mar Afghanistan’s course of change and development. The first is the fragmentation of the governing elite. Although all elite components have expressed public allegiance to Islam, they can in general be divided into two informal clusters. One cluster is made up of those who have taken the reins of power on the basis of an alliance with the United States and the backing of the international community, and signed up to American-induced processes of semi-secular change and democratization. The other cluster is composed of those who have entered a partnership with the first cluster but have grown highly sceptical of the American agenda, although in varying degrees. The first cluster has included mostly figures that have come from the ranks of the Afghan diaspora, primarily from the United States and Europe. While projecting themselves as democrats and tying their interests and security to what the USA and its allies have wanted to do on the ground, they have narrowed their policy options from the start to be in line with Washington’s preferences. This is not to claim that they have not been critical of the USA from time to time when it has suited them in order to present themselves as Afghan nationalists for purposes of domestic legitimacy. What it does say, however, is that ultimately they could operate only within the parameters set by their dependence on the USA for holding onto and maintaining power. The leading figures of this cluster, including President Hamid Karzai and many prominent members of his cabinet, from the start worked closely with the neoconservative, Afghan-born, American envoy, Zalmay Khalilzad, to push for a kind of democratization that could produce a strong presidential system of government, more akin to the American model than what would be appropriate for a socially divided Afghanistan. This meant that the initial close relationship between the Karzai-led cluster and the neoconservative clique within the George W. Bush administration was instrumental in laying the

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foundations for whatever has transpired in Afghanistan since then.6 President Barack Obama’s review of America’s Afghanistan strategy in late 2009 to make it more effective on political, construction and security fronts, with a resolve to engage in more assertive actions against Pakistan’s continued support of the Taliban and their affiliates, made little difference in altering those foundations. The most important plank of the review was a pledge to strengthen the Afghan security forces as rapidly as possible and to transfer all security responsibilities to them by the end of 2014. However, since then the United States may decide to keep some 10,000 US troops under the new Afghan-US Strategic Partnership Agreement, until 2024, but mainly for training and anti-terrorism purposes. Those sceptical of the American agenda formed the second cluster, which has advocated a more indigenous-based, pro-Islamist mode of change and development as more in tune with the social and cultural milieus of Afghanistan. This cluster has included many personalities from the ranks of those Afghans who spent most of their time inside Afghanistan during the long years of turmoil preceding the US-led intervention, and participated actively in the Afghan Islamic resistance to the Soviet occupation in the 1980s and subsequently to the extremist, theocratic rule of the Pakistan-backed Taliban. They have had power bases of their own in Afghanistan and come from a strong Islamic background, but many elements of this cluster have found it expedient to join the governing elite as the best way to advance their personal ambitions and protect the interests of their constituencies of support. This group has been comprised mainly of former Mujahideen leaders and commanders as well as religious and community figures. It has included such personalities as Dr Abdullah Abdullah and Yonous Qanooni, who served in Karzai’s interim and transitional cabinets (2001–4), and Amrullah Saleh, who led the Afghan intelligence agency – also known as the National Directorate of Security (NDS) – until 2010. Over time, they have all grown critical of the United States and Karzai for failing to achieve their original promise of building a stable, secure and democratic Afghanistan, and some have acted as a counterelite from time to time. However, it must be noted that both clusters have been very incoherent, with a marked degree of inter-cluster fluidity. Some elements from both have changed allegiances or maintained cross-cluster



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relationships for personal, political, ethnic, tribal and sectarian reasons, depending on what has been on offer for them. Karzai has exploited this fluidity in order to shore up his position and divide his opponents. A prime example was Karzai’s appointment of Burhannuddin Rabbani, former Afghan president during the Mujahideen’s rule (1992–6), as head of the High Peace Council in 2010 to negotiate a political settlement with the Taliban.7 Karzai sided with the counter-elite and governing elite according to his changing interests. Upon Rabbani’s death, Karzai replaced him with Rabbani’s relatively lightweight and inexperienced son, Salahuddin Rabbani, as part of Karzai’s approach in keeping his non-ethnic Pashtun opponents divided. Karzai and many of his ministers are Pashtuns, as are the Taliban, although from historically rival tribes. Even so, in general, some attachments within the second cluster have acted as a counter-elite from time to time. This elite fragmentation, which is very much reminiscent of the problem that bedevilled the Soviet communist surrogates in Afghanistan from 1977 to 1989, has resulted in a further accretion – bad governance. Governance, the processes of decision-making and implementation, and the way in which national affairs are managed, has suffered due to highly damaging patronage-based networks,8 political intrigues, power rivalries9 and lack of a clear ideological direction in Afghanistan. The result has been the development of a very dysfunctional, ineffective and corrupt government, with a devastating impact on Afghanistan’s transformation, especially when considered against the backdrop of a number of other important variables. They range from the failure of the United States and its NATO allies to invest effectively in Afghanistan’s reconstruction and to pursue an appropriate strategy of security building,10 to the lack of a noted improvement in the impoverished living conditions for a great majority of the Afghan people.11 The US support for centralizing governance in Kabul, as against devolving authority to Afghanistan’s various micro-societies, has greatly hindered democratization efforts. The situation has generated a massive political and security vacuum for various counter-systemic actors and spoilers to emerge, which brings us to the issue of counter-systemic elites. The most important in this category that has emerged is the Taliban, with two noted affiliates and one spoiler on their tail: the Hezbi Islami (Islamic Party) of the former maverick Mujahideen leader,

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Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, the Haqqani network, which Washington has accused of being directly linked to Pakistan’s Directorate of InterServices Intelligence (ISI), and al-Qaeda. The latter has weakened, but still has an operational capacity in Afghanistan, particularly in the eastern and southern provinces. The Taliban have skilfully drawn on the weakness of the government and of its international backers at both strategic and operational levels to mount a serious challenge from outside the system.12 Undoubtedly, the Taliban and their affiliates have enjoyed sanctuaries and a considerable amount of logistic and material support from Pakistan. However, this support has been equally, if not more so, complemented by the gains that the Taliban and their supporters have made from the failures of the Karzai government and its international supporters. This has been nowhere more evident than among the ethnic Pashtuns, who have historically constituted about 42 per cent of the Afghan population.13 The success of the Taliban in projecting themselves as better Muslims and as a united and socially concerned force to defend Islam and Afghanistan against the onslaught of foreign powers and their Afghan surrogates has proved to be increasingly appealing to the Pashtuns on both sides of the Afghanistan–Pakistan border. Hence, the Taliban movement has been able to restore its networks of support inside both countries. It has penetrated the Karzai government and its armed and security apparatus at all levels, as illustrated by the growing ‘green’ on ‘blue’ attacks. The Afghans, who have historically been in the grip of an authoritarian political culture, are now indeed caught between two forces. One seeks to lead them down a path of secular political transformation, which has been very much in tune with outside interests, and another wants to move them down the road of an indigenous-based radical Islamist transformation. So far, Afghanistan has not achieved anything more than a procedural democracy. Even at this level, its rigged 2009 presidential elections and 2010 parliamentary elections,14 as well as the growing disconnect between the Executive and Legislature and lack of institutionalization as against personalization of politics, have made the whole Afghan experience highly questionable.15 As the situation stands, the necessary firm foundations have not been laid for Afghanistan’s transformation into a stable democracy. Although there has been a measure of civil society development in the country, this remains very fragile in the face



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of political dysfunctionality, corruption and lack of rule of law which have become rampant in the country.

Iraq Since the US-led invasion of Iraq in March 2003, the situation in that country bears striking parallels to Afghanistan. Whilst divided between three main sectarian and ethnic groups – the majority Shi‘i Arabs, and the minority Sunni Arabs and Kurds (the latter primarily Sunni), not to mention smaller strata such as the Turkomen – Iraq has been subjected to many of the same vicissitudes as Afghanistan. This has especially been so in three important respects. The first concerns the issue of governing elite fragmentation. As in the case of Afghanistan, the Iraqi governing elite has been divided into various clusters. One cluster has been comprised of secularists or semi-secularists who have been more than happy to sign up to the US policy of secularization and democratization. It has included leading Kurdish figures such as Massoud Barzani and Jalal Talabani, and such Shi‘i figures as Iyad Allawi and Ahmed Chalabi, who have come to head two secular nationalist alliances composed of Sunnis and Shi‘a, called the Iraqi National Accord and Iraqi National Congress respectively.16 Another cluster has consisted of those Islamist figures from both sides of the Shi‘i/Sunni divide that have had constituencies of popular support of their own in Iraq. While considering it expedient in the wake of the overthrow of Saddam Hussein’s secular dictatorship to ride on the back of the US-led invasion, they have not found it appropriate to side with the US-led occupation or prescribe to Washington’s agenda of secularist democratization. They have favoured an indigenous-based Islamist transformation of Iraq. This cluster has included most importantly such Sunni figures as Mohsen Abd al-Hamid and Adnan al-Dulaimi, and such Shi‘i leaders as Abd al-Aziz Hakim, Ibrahim Jaafari and to some extent the current Prime Minister Nuri al-Maliki, who has increasingly become amenable to the Shi‘a’s cause and Iranian influence. The third cluster has included those forces that have been in and out of the political process and have acted at times in conjunction with elements from the second cluster as a counter-elite. They have on the

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one hand argued for a radical Islamist transformation of Iraq, but on the other hand have not found it expedient to engage in combating the government and the occupying powers until their withdrawal by the end of 2011 on a sustained basis. A prime example of such forces has been the firebrand and powerful Iranian-backed Shi‘i cleric, Muqtada al-Sadr, whose well-trained and well-armed militia – the Mahdi Army – has made it an influential force in Iraqi politics, with which the Iraqi government and the USA have had to reckon. The second respect is, as in Afghanistan, the factor of poor governance. Similarly, the United States initially backed the evolution of a political system which rapidly proved to be incongruous with societal dynamics. Washington’s decision to appoint a US Administrator to set up an Iraqi Governing Council on the basis of giving preference to a number of US-backed Iraqi figures from exile, but also appointing some local leaders from various political organizations in order to bestow some popular legitimacy upon the Governing Council, sowed the seeds of Iraq’s political problems. By the time Washington learned that the Council was not the most effective way to build a new Iraq, and began to promote the necessary processes for establishing an elected representative government as part of a policy of democratization of Iraq, all the ingredients for political fragmentation of Iraq had solidified. The democratization push not only sharpened deep-seated sectarian and ethnic differences, but also ultimately empowered the Shi‘i majority to become more assertive in its quest for power. By boycotting the January 2005 parliamentary elections in large numbers, the Sunni Arabs effectively sidelined themselves from participating in negotiations over the establishment of a new Iraqi Constitution, which was adopted in October 2005, despite their substantial opposition.17 By 2006, however, alarmed at the prospect of a Shi‘a-dominated government, the Sunni Arabs (and their regional Sunni Arab supporters), along with the Kurds, began to worry about the shifting balance of power in the region in favour of Iran and Shi‘i Islam. To address the situation, Washington from 2006 embarked on a fresh policy approach: while maintaining its commitment to the Kurds, it sought to embrace the Iraqi Sunnis, mainly for two reasons. One was to weaken their Shi‘i counterparts; another was to make them fight alQaeda. In the process, it also found it expedient to play off Shi‘a against their own sectarian group in the form of exalting Nuri al-Maliki to act



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as the saviour of Iraq against Muqtada al-Sadr. Beyond this, it upped the ante on Iran as an ‘evil’ actor, although Iran’s regional position had strengthened not because of any of its own initiatives, but largely due to US policy failures. The third respect relates to the space that the fragmentation of the governing elite has generated for those groups that have opted out of the system in violent Islamist-nationalist opposition to the government and foreign forces. They have come to include elements from both Sunni and Shi‘i sides. Not all of these elements have hoisted the flag of radical political Islam in pursuit of establishing an Islamist government similar to the one next door in Iran. They have joined a counter-systemic opposition for different reasons and purposes. For example, some in its Sunni component have been the disgruntled Ba‘thist, and also for that matter non-Ba‘thist, supporters of Saddam Hussein’s former regime.18 Al-Qaeda has taken advantage of elite fragmentation and US policy failures to carve an important niche for itself as a spoiler in pursuit of wider ideological-political purposes. Its central objectives are the same as the ones that it has pursued in the Afghan theatre of conflict: to make sure that the United States and its Iraqi allies are denied the opportunity to transform Iraq according to their preferences.19 This US goal may be unattainable, however, for as long as Iraq remains politically and socially fragmented and unstable, there is a vacuum and a cause for al-Qaeda to remain active in Iraq. The political elite has been so bitterly divided that it took it more than a year after the indecisive parliamentary election of 2010 to finally reach an agreement on the formation of a government.20 The dispute was between the leaders of two major political groupings: one led by the incumbent Prime Minister al-Maliki, and another by former Prime Minister Ayad Allawi. Although Allawi’s group had won two seats more than that of al-Maliki (a plurality but not majority of seats), the latter refused to give up the prime ministership. The matter was finally settled, although very reluctantly on the part of Allawi, when al-Maliki succeeded in enlisting the support of al-Sadr, who instructed his 40 members of parliament to back the incumbent Prime Minister. Sadr acted largely at the behest of Tehran, which essentially meant a loss for the United States, and the Iraqi Sunnis and their regional Arab supporters, but a win for Iran, as al-Maliki had to become more amenable to Tehran’s policy interests. It was no wonder that by the turn of 2012, al-Maliki accused his Sunni

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deputy, Vice-President Tariq al-Hashemi, of aiding terrorism, causing alHashemi to become a fugitive at the cost of widening the Shi‘a–Sunni rift, heightening the level of violence between the two communities and leading Iraq to the brink of a civil war. Meanwhile, al-Sadr’s support of al-Maliki has been very shaky as the former has threatened a number of times to withdraw his backing should al-Maliki fail to act in accord with his political and religious preferences. Also complicating the Iraqi situation is that the US invasion transformed the country from a relatively strong state with a weak society under Saddam Hussein into a weak state with a strong society.21 In the process of eliminating Saddam Hussein’s regime, the United States also effectively dismantled the Iraqi state. This generated the necessary space for societal groups to assert themselves against one another, with help from rival regional actors. This came on the top of the armed resistance mounted against the American forces. The United States was caught in the middle of an inter-ethnic and inter-sectarian conflict. Whilst maintaining its strong support for the Kurds, the United States eventually by 2008 brought the conflict under control to enable it to set 2011 as the withdrawal date for American forces.22 However, this was achieved at extremely high human and material costs for all sides in the conflict, but without addressing the root causes of the conflict. Interestingly, whereas in the case of Afghanistan the United States backed the creation of a strong state in a traditionally strong society as part of its push for building democracy, in Iraq its policy actions in pursuit of democratization resulted in a weakening of the state and strengthening of society. Iraq, like Afghanistan, has remained deeply entangled in the cobweb of a minimalist democracy. Since 2006, with the re-emergence of the Sunni Arab and secular trend in Iraqi politics, the disconnect between not only all three main sectarian groups, but also between secularists and Islamists, remains the order of the day. Personalization of politics, symbolized by figures such as al-Maliki in Baghdad and Barzani in Erbil,23 increasing corruption and a lack of rule of law, means that foundations have not been laid for transforming Iraq into an effective working democracy.24 With the United States having withdrawn its troops, Iraq faces the possibility of wider instability and violence, and even disintegration, with various regional actors scrambling for influence.



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Conclusion The situation in both Afghanistan and Iraq remains very volatile and unpredictable. On all accounts, the US-induced processes of democratization have not produced the desired results in either country. The two states have been put on a path only to what can be called electoral democratization, but even this has been marred by fraud, corruption and vicious and at times violent political infighting, and outside interference. Neither country is close to achieving the necessary foundations to move towards a substantive democracy in the foreseeable future. And what they have achieved so far is very fragile and reversible. Although an important result of foreign intervention has been a marked progress in civil society awareness and activities in both countries, this development has not been accompanied by construction of such state institutions, political processes and modes of social and economic development that could ensure the development of a stable political order in either country. Afghanistan and Iraq are now placed between a rock and a hard place: one wants to promote self-centred secular and semi-secular democratic practices and values, and the other desires to uphold radical Islamism, whether out of conviction or self-interest, as a means for political legitimation and power assertion. The challenge facing the two countries now is how to generate the necessary conditions for the growth of a culturally relevant mode of democratization. One way to address the issue is through the promotion of an Ijtihadi or reformist political Islam or creative interpretation and application of Islam, based on independent human reasoning, according to the changing times and conditions. As the former Sunni Islamic cleric president of Indonesia, the late Abdurrahman Wahid, and his Shi‘i counterpart, the ex-president of Iran, Mohammad Khatami, have argued, Ijtihadi Islam is largely compatible with democracy and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. The question of whether democracy is something that can be imposed from outside or grow from within a state is a contentious one. The cases of Afghanistan and Iraq demonstrate that foreign-induced democratization has not been fruitful. On the other hand, the experiences of Egypt, Tunisia, Yemen and Libya, where home-grown popular revolts have succeeded in causing the overthrow of dictatorial rulers (although

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in the case of Libya with UN-backed NATO intervention) tell us that a transition from an authoritarian past to a democratic future is not an easy task to achieve. However, history shows us that what can be achieved as a result of home-grown political and social movements is unlikely to be accomplished by outside imposition.

Notes 1 For more on the neoconservative post 9/11 perspective, see Stefan A. Halper and Jonathan Clarke, America Alone: The Neo-Conservatives and the Global Order, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005, Ch.1. 2 See, for example, Adrian Blomfield, ‘Syria: Fall of Bashar al-Assad will bring war to Middle East, warns Iraq’, Telegraph, 13 December 2011. 3 Amin Saikal, Modern Afghanistan: A History of Struggle and Survival, London: I.B.Tauris, 2006, pp. 18–19. 4 For a detailed discussion see Saikal, Modern Afghanistan: A History of Struggle and Survival, Ch. 1; Ralph Magnus and Eden Naby, Afghanistan: Mullah, Marx, and Mujahid, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2002, Ch. 1; Louis Dupree, Afghanistan, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980, Part II; William Maley, The Afghanistan Wars, London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002, Ch. 1; Barnett R. Rubin, Fragmentation of Afghanistan, 2nd ed., New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002, Chs. 2–3. 5 See Amin Saikal, ‘Afghanistan’s ethnic conflict’, Survival 40(2), Summer 1998, pp. 115–26. 6 See International Crisis Group, Afghanistan: The Constitutional Loya Jirga, Asia Briefing No. 29, 12 December 2003 and Barnett R. Rubin, ‘Crafting a constitution for Afghanistan’, Journal of Democracy 15(3), 2004, pp. 5–19. 7 William Maley, ‘Afghanistan in 2010’, Asian Survey 51(1), January/February 2011, pp. 85–96 at p. 87. Rabbani was assassinated by the Taliban in 2011. 8 For allegations of corruption on the part of some members of Karzai’s family, especially his late brother Wali Karzai, who was widely accused of being linked to drug lords and the heroin trade, see James Risen, ‘Reports link Karzai’s brother to heroin trade’, New York Times, 4 October 2008. 9 For a discussion on the prevalence of warlordism today in Afghanistan, see Roger Mac Ginty, ‘Warlords and the liberal peace: State-building in Afghanistan’, Conflict, Security & Development 10(4), September 2010, pp. 577–98 and Antonio Giustozzi, Empires of Mud: War and Warlords in Afghanistan, London: C. Hurst, 2009. 10 For failures of US and NATO strategy, see Seth G. Jones, ‘Averting failure in Afghanistan’, Survival 48(1), Spring 2006, pp. 111–27; Barnett R. Rubin and Ahmed Rashid, ‘From the Great Game to Grand Bargain’, Foreign Affairs 87(6), November/ December 2008. 11 Beth Eggleston, ‘The Afghan people: Forgotten and frustrated’, in Amin Saikal (ed.), The Afghanistan Conflict and Australia’s Role, Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2011, pp. 115–28.



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12 In fact, the Taliban still draw very strong support from some areas in the country – especially in the Pashtun-dominated south. See Gregg Carlstrom, ‘Afghanistan’s governance problem: New US research concludes corruption and inefficiency still hallmarks of Afghan state’, Al-Jazeerah, 29 August 2010, available at: http://www. aljazeera.com/focus/2010/05/2010513105357535985.html, accessed 18 June 2013. 13 For a figure of about 40 per cent in the 1990s, see Magnus and Naby, Afghanistan: Mullah, Marx, and Mujahid, p. 93, and Alfred Janata, ‘Afghanistan: The ethnic dimension’, in Ewan W. Anderson et al. (eds), The Cultural Basis of Afghan Nationalism, London: Pinter Publishers, 1990, p. 64 14 For a discussion of the 2010 parliamentary elections, see International Crisis Group, Afghanistan’s Elections Stalemate, Asia Briefing No. 117, 23 February 2011; M. Husssain, ‘Afghanistan Parliamentary Elections, immunity and prosecution of parliamentarians’, Heinrich Böll Stiftung, 27 March 2011, available at: http://www.boell-afghanistan.org/ web/52-323/html, accessed 18 June 2013; and ‘September Election has Distanced People from Govt: Study’, TOLOnews, 23 March 2011. 15 In many ways, it has proved similar to the highly fragmented and ineffective governments that existed under the monarchy of King Mohammed Zahir (1964–73). For a detailed discussion, see Saikal, Modern Afghanistan: A History of Struggle and Survival, Ch. 6. 16 It should be noted that even within these clusters, many individuals and groups had entrenched historical enmity against others. For example, Barzani and Talabani had fought a long civil war in the Kurdish region of Iraq. See Michael M. Gunter, The Kurdish Predicament in Iraq, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1999, Ch. 4. Also see Matthew Duss and Peter Juul, The Fractured Shia of Iraq, Center for American Progress, January 2009. 17 Roel Meijer, ‘Sunni factions and the “political process”’, in Marcus E. Bouillon et al. (eds), Iraq: Preventing a New Generation of Conflict, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2007, pp. 89–108. 18 See Abdel Salam Sidahmed, ‘Islamism, nationalism, and sectarianism’, in Marcus E. Bouillon et al. (eds), Iraq: Preventing a New Generation of Conflict, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2007, pp. 71–88 at pp. 80–3. 19 For more on al-Qaeda’s goals and objectives, see Karen J. Greenberg (ed.), Al Qaeda Now: Understanding Today’s Terrorists, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. 20 ‘Iraq breaks record for time taken to form a government’, BBC News, 1 October 2010. 21 For more on contemporary Iraqi history, see Charles Tripp, A History of Iraq, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000, Chs 5 and 6. For a detailed discussion of Iraq under Saddam, see Efraim Karsh and Inari Rautsi, Saddam Hussein: A Political Biography, New York: Macmillan, 1991, Chs 4 and 8. 22 However, many problems remain. See International Crisis Group, Loose Ends: Iraq’s Security Forces Between U.S. Drawdown and Withdrawal, Middle East Report No. 99, International Crisis Group, 26 October 2010. 23 For more on the divisions between the Kurds and the central government, see Gareth Standsfield and Liam Anderson, ‘Kurds in Iraq: The struggle between Baghdad and Erbil’, Middle East Policy 14(1), Spring 2009, pp. 134–45.

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24 See International Crisis Group, Iraq’s Uncertain Future: Elections and Beyond, Middle East Report No. 94, International Crisis Group, 25 February 2010; Abbas Kadhim, ‘Iraq’s quest for democracy amid massive corruption’, Arab Reform Bulletin, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 3 March 2010; and Phil Williams, Criminals, Militias, and Insurgents: Organized Crime in Iraq, Carlisle: Strategic Studies Institute, 2009.

CHAPTER 5

The Arab Revolution Is Bad News for Iran Shahram Akbarzadeh

The popular revolutions that swept across the Arab world in late 2010 and 2011 were initially welcomed in Tehran as a vindication of its policies. Since its inception, the Islamic Republic of Iran had maintained a difficult relationship with its Arab neighbours, even fighting a bloody eight-year war with one. From the Iranian point of view, Arab governments had betrayed Islam by working closely with the United States and giving up on the Palestinian cause. At first glance, the Arab revolution that deposed the ruling regimes in Tunisia and Egypt and the revolt in the Gulf sheikhdoms fitted neatly in the narrative of the Iranian regime. The Arab regimes were inclined to side with the United States in all international fora and were generally criticized for not representing the interest of their own people. But this interpretation of the Arab revolution as an automatic endorsement of the Iranian worldview was too simplistic to withstand the test of time. Very soon after the removal of Hosni Mubarak from office and the spread of unrest to Syria and Libya, the Iranian interpretation came under severe strain. In Syria, the Bashar al-Assad regime, which had been hailed by the Iranian authorities as a genuine popular alternative to many other Arab states, seemed to face the same kind of popular unrest that had paralysed its neighbours. In Egypt, the Muslim brotherhood dismissed suggestions that it might follow the Iranian model. Iran’s binary worldview of believers versus disbelief could not explain the momentous events that engulfed the region. The Arab revolution presented a conceptual challenge to the Iranian worldview. This has reminded the leadership of the tenuous nature of their hold on power. The regime has responded by doubling security measures against its internal opposition, dubbed the Green Movement. Only a

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year after the regime managed to suppress its own opposition rallies, the Arab revolution has made it vulnerable once again. This chapter begins with a survey of the Iranian position with regard to the Arab revolution, and then explores the impact of the Bahrain and Syrian conflicts on Iran’s standing in the region. It argues that the double standard in relation to these conflicts has eroded Iran’s soft power on the Arab streets and led to its marginalization. The chapter concludes with an assessment of the internal implications of this strategic demise as the regime feels pressured from within and without.

Welcoming the Arab Revolution The initial Iranian response to the Arab revolution was predictable. The revolution was presented as an Islamic awakening, following Iran’s footsteps. Not only was the Arab revolution seen as a vindication of the ruling ideology in Iran, it was also presented as evidence of Iran’s leadership in the region. Iran had constructed an identity of Islamic and revolutionary defiance for itself, making itself unique among other regional governments for challenging the United States and Israel. It was no secret that the Iranian regime saw itself as a regional leader. The Arab revolution was an opportunity for the regime to re-state that claim, sometimes in a rather patronizing fashion. There was a unanimous view in the Iranian leadership that the Arab revolution was the ‘aftershock’ of the 1979 revolution in Iran. Addressing a Friday prayer congregation on 4 February 2011, Supreme Leader Ayatollah Seyyed Ali Khamenei argued that: a powerful cry is being clearly heard today in various regions of the Muslim world. Today’s event in the north of Africa, in Egypt and Tunisia and certain other countries, … has a special meaning …This is the very same thing that has always been regarded as Islamic awakening on the occasion of the triumph of the great Islamic Revolution of the nation of Iran. Today, it is manifesting itself [in the Arab world] … Our revolution became an inspiration and role model and this was due to steadfastness, resoluteness towards the main ideals, which this revolution announced via the imam [Ayatollah Khomeini]. The Iranian



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nation has turned to a role model and you are witnessing the signs of this fact today …. Today, the reverberation of your voice is being heard in Egypt.1 In a subsequent speech (22 March 2011), Khamenei stated that the same principles and ideas that had been upheld in the Islamic regime of Iran were now prompting the Arab people into action. The theme of Iran as the role model was echoed by President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and other members of the Islamic regime. For Ahmadinejad there was no question that the ‘Egyptian and Tunisian uprisings were inspired by Iran’s ‘defiance’ against western powers’.2 In a rather patronizing speech, Ahmadinejad praised the Arab world for striving to ‘catch up’ with Iran. In a clear effort to capitalize on the events, the Iranian regime convened a two-day conference in September 2011 under the rubric of Islamic Awakening. The official Iranian news agency boasted that 700 scholars and dignitaries from 80 countries took part in this international event. Some of the key participants included leaders of the Palestinian Islamic Jihad, the Lebanese Hizbullah and the late former president of Afghanistan, Burhanuddin Rabbani. This conference was opened by the Iranian Supreme Leader and included addresses by the Iranian President and the Speaker of the Parliament, all of whom emphasized the Islamic character of the Arab uprising and Iran’s leading role in this Islamic Awakening.3 At the same time, the Iranian leadership also exhibited an awareness that its point of view is not shared in the region and warned against efforts to derail the revolution. In the words of the Iranian ambassador to Algeria, Muhammad Mohammadi, ‘as the Islamic Awakening spreads around the world, the western efforts aimed at deviating it also increase’.4 Indeed, the Iranian account of the Arab revolution as an Islamic Awakening that challenged pro-Western regimes started to unravel as the revolt spread to Libya and Syria. In order to contain the counter-narrative to its interpretation of the Arab revolution, Iran tried to limit news of civil unrest in Libya and Syria. When this proved impossible, the Iranian news media downplayed events, and blamed Western powers for meddling in the internal affairs of the Muslim world and exaggerating the extent of unrest. This was especially highlighted in relation to Syria. As Iran’s only strategic allies, the unrest in Syria proved especially troubling for the Islamic regime.

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In the Iranian interpretation of the Arab revolution, anti-USA and anti-Israel states should have been the natural beneficiaries of the popular revolts. That is why the spread of anti-government revolts to Syria, with its long-standing antagonism towards Israel and difficult relationship with the United States, was so dramatically unsettling. Not only did it undermine the Islamic regime’s narrative of the Arab revolt, but it reminded the leadership of a real threat on the home front – that is, the potential for the revival of the Green Movement. The Iranian leadership had a vested interest in keeping the Bashar al-Assad regime in power and did not shy away from providing diplomatic and tangible assistance to Damascus. Stakes were raised in mid-2012 when the United States commenced a diplomatic campaign to convince Russia and China to refrain from vetoing a UN Security Council vote on Syria. This prompted the Islamic regime to blast the United States for interfering in the internal affairs of an Arab state. The Iranian Fars News Agency reported on 2 July 2012 that Iran would not tolerate foreign intervention in Syria and warned against military action to topple the Assad regime.5 It is noteworthy that even some critics within the regime found it difficult to reject the narrative of the Islamic awakening. Ayatollah AkbarHashemi Rafsanjani, a former president who had sided with the reformist movement at the 2009 presidential elections and was subsequently removed from his post as the Head of the Expediency Council, echoed the well-rehearsed line: the Arab revolution was following the Iranian footsteps. But he tried to use the occasion to criticize the policies of the Ahmadinejad government: ‘It is no exaggeration to say that the Islamic Iran’s revolution has been the role model for the people of the region … however, in our foreign policy we have acted in such a way that revolutionaries of the region are not willing to admit this fact.’6 Despite Iran’s official line, there was discernable disquiet in the leadership ranks about the prospects of a contagion effect. By the end of 2010, the Iranian reform movement was showing signs of subsiding, but the Arab revolution had the potential to re-energize it. According to Iran analyst Farideh Farhi, the revolutions in Tunisia and Egypt were seen by the reformists in Iran as catalysts of activism.7 For the Iranian authorities this was a real threat. Fearful of the revival potential for the Green Movement, the Islamic regime took preventative measures to contain the risk. It refused permission for celebratory rallies in February 2011 and put Green Movement leaders in prison or under house arrest. On



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14 February 2011 an unlicensed rally was brutally dispersed, resulting in one death.8

The Arab Response The claim that the Arab masses were somehow following the footsteps of the 1979 Iranian revolution was greeted with bemusement and a tinge of derision on the streets of Cairo. This was in line with the general assessment of the upheavals in the more informed policy circles. In fact many observers commented on the absence of Islam as a motivating factor for the Arab revolution. Olivier Roy, a French scholar of Islamism, had even suggested that the Arab revolution and the popular aspiration for political accountability and responsible government signalled the demise of radical Islamism, espoused most violently by al-Qaeda.9 Indeed the Arab revolution was widely seen by Western observers as a vindication of democratic aspirations as a universal force, an interpretation that sat diametrically opposite Iranian claims of an Islamic Awakening. In Egypt, where the Muslim Brotherhood has gained significant ground in the wake of the revolution, the sense of distancing the Egyptian experience from the Iranian model is urgent. The Muslim Brotherhood is mindful of the negative publicity it would invite should it align itself with Iran. As a result, the Brotherhood leadership has repeatedly dismissed suggestions that it is following the Iranian model and that its rising fortunes will benefit Iran. In an interview with the Voice of America, a spokesperson for the Brotherhood insisted that such claims are ‘absolutely wrong’.10 The Brotherhood did not pursue the establishment of Islamic theocracy à la Iran, he proclaimed. Instead, ‘we are calling for a civil state, moderate state, a democratic state, equality, prosperity, justice for all and freedom for all citizens. All are equal. Egypt is not Iran. Egypt can build its own model of democracy according to its culture and Islamic preference’. This position was reinforced by other statements by the Brotherhood leadership. In an interview with Spiegel (2 July 2011), the Deputy Leader of the Brotherhood stated: ‘we are not marching with our slogans. We don’t want this revolution to be portrayed as a revolution of the Muslim Brothers, as an Islamic revolution. This is a popular uprising by all Egyptians.’11

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With the consolidation of its position as a leading force in the future of Egypt, the Muslim Brotherhood became even more categorical about its position vis-à-vis Iran. Following its parliamentary victory in November 2011, a newly elected Brotherhood member of parliament warned Iran that the popular uprising could also reach Iran and unsettle the Islamic regime.12 This was the first time the Brotherhood drew a comparison between the Islamic regime of Iran and the deposed Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak. As the conflict in Syria deteriorated and Iranian support for the Assad regime continued unabated, the Brotherhood hardened its position in solidarity with the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood. Mohammad Farouk Tayfour, secretary-general of Syria’s Muslim Brotherhood, openly referred to Iran as the ‘enemy’ for arming the Syrian regime. As a long-standing political force, now a key player in the future of Egypt, the Brotherhood is clearly eager to avoid antagonizing the West unnecessarily. But the position vis-à-vis Iran goes beyond political expediency. The Arab world is generally suspicious of Iran’s intentions and regional ambitions. A 2011 survey by the Arab American Institute Foundation documented the extent of wariness towards Iran. The survey found that ‘Iran’s favorable ratings have dropped significantly in recent years. Iran is seen as not contributing to “peace and stability in the Arab world” and there is scant support for Iran’s nuclear program’.13 This concern with the security risks posed by Iran has been exaggerated by its strategic rival, Saudi Arabia. The Saudi government has been anxious about Iran’s antiestablishment message directed at the Arab kingdoms of the Persian Gulf. Iran’s claims of support for popular movements were seen in Riyadh as a ploy to undermine political stability in the region and allow Iran to pursue its territorial claims in the Gulf at best, or engineer regime change at worst. This was especially troubling in the case of Bahrain, as will be explored below. As far as the Saudi officials were concerned, Iran was clearly interfering in Arab affairs.

Bahrain The tiny Kingdom of Bahrain was not immune from the contagion of the Arab revolution. In early 2011 Bahrain experienced a wave of protest rallies that challenged the authority of Sheikh Hamad bin Isa Al



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Khalifa. The protestors were calling for political reform and responsible government but the sectarian divide in Bahrain soon gained prominence and transformed the revolt into a battle of Shi‘a masses versus Sunni rulers. The Shi‘a constitute about 70 per cent of the total population in Bahrain and have been indigenous to the island, while the ruling Al Khalifa family follows the Sunni sect of Islam and conquered Bahrain in the late eighteenth century. Due to the sheer size of the Shi‘a population, the absence of political representation in Bahrain – which was a generic problem with monarchic rule – was widely seen by the population as deliberately targeting the Shi‘a. Given its Sunni affiliations and links with other Arab royal families, the Al Khalifa family enjoyed the support of Saudi Arabia and other sheikhdoms in the region. In contrast, Shi‘a Iran has been consistently portrayed by the ruling family in Bahrain as a threat to its sovereignty. Of course Iran’s behaviour provided plenty of evidence to substantiate that fear. Iran continued to repeat its territorial claims over Bahrain until 1975. The Iranian revolution and the establishment of the Islamic regime revived nostalgia for Iran’s regional reach. Although Iran did not openly challenge Bahrain’s sovereignty, newspaper editorials and public statements by members of parliament about Bahrain’s position as an integral part of Iran reverberated throughout the region and caused serious concern about an impending policy reversal in Tehran. Due to the above sectarian and geo-strategic factors, the 2011 uprising in Bahrain rapidly evolved into an arena for regional rivalry. After weeks of street protest, the ruling Al Khalifa requested the assistance of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) in suppressing the popular uprising. Saudi security forces entered Bahrain via the King Fahd causeway on 13 March 2011 and promptly put down the revolt. The Iranian response to this move was predictable and only confirmed suspicions that Tehran was sponsoring the revolt. Iran recalled its ambassador from Bahrain in an official protest. A few months later (October 2011), the Iranian Deputy Foreign Minister for Arab and African Affairs told Fars News Agency that Iran had no plans to return the ambassador to Bahrain.14 Bahrain reciprocated and recalled its ambassador from Iran in March 2011, but reinstated the ambassador in August 2012 to resume full diplomatic relations. The Iranian authorities, however, still insisted on keeping their diplomatic relations with Bahrain in suspense. According to the state-run news agency, Press TV, Iran’s Deputy Foreign Minister

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Hossein Amir-Abdollahian said, ‘the return of Bahrain’s ambassador to Tehran is the decision of the Bahraini establishment but Iran will make no decision to reinstate its ambassador to Manama as long as [the Bahraini regime’s] repression of the Bahraini Muslim people continues’.15 The Bahrain case was seen in Iran as a vindication of its worldview and ideological stand. The intervention of US-friendly GCC troops to suppress the revolt was fodder to the Tehran propaganda machine. The foreign intervention of Saudi, Qatari and UAE forces in Bahrain brought relations between Iran and its Arab neighbours to a new low. While Iran protested that the GCC move was a violation of the popular will in Bahrain, Arab kingdoms accused Iran of meddling in their internal affairs by sowing sectarian discord. The slump in Iran’s relationship with Bahrain coincided with a legal spy charge in Kuwait which implicated Iran as the mastermind of an extensive spying network in that kingdom.16 With no signs of improvement in relations between Iran and its neighbours, Shaykh Al Khalifa accused Iran of continuing to pursue territorial claims on Bahrain and urged a united Arab front to meet what he termed a ‘grave threat’.17 This call came shortly after another major diplomatic setback. On 11 October 2011, reports of a major security sting were reported in the US media. Two men with links to the Iranian government were arrested and charged with plotting to assassinate the Saudi ambassador to the United States.18 This was a diplomatic disaster for Iran. One of the accused was known to have links to the Quds security forces, which reports directly to the Supreme Leader. This implicated the highest office in Iran. The general tone of reports and commentary on this episode in the United States was a mix of disbelief at the clumsy nature of the plot and reaffirmation of the assessment of Iran as a destabilizing force. Robert Dreyfuss, writing for the Tehran Bureau, captured some of that mood when he called it a ‘bizarre case’, asking what could Iran hope to gain from this assassination: nothing but trouble.19 More seasoned analysts were less reticent in their assessment. Martyn Indyk, a former US ambassador to Israel and now Director for Foreign Policy at the Brookings Institute, argued that this event was consistent with Iran’s behaviour in the past regarding assassination and terrorist attacks on foreign soil, citing the 1996 bombing of Khobar Towers. For Indyk, this episode was a significant sign of Iran’s frustration at the way the Arab revolution has marginalized Tehran.20



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Syria The spread of the popular revolution to Syria presented the Islamic regime in Iran with a serious challenge, both in terms of ideology and geo-strategy. The Syrian revolt shattered the myth that the Arab Spring was an Islamic revolution against the West and its allies. Syria had all the credentials of an anti-Western state. It had fought a war with Israel (regarded widely in the Middle East as a US proxy) and maintained a territorial dispute with that country over the Golan Heights. It was blacklisted by the United States for its role in Lebanon and was put under economic sanctions. Syrian support for Hizbullah, which implicated the Bashar al-Assad regime in the assassination of former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri (February 2005), was the catalyst for an international consensus to expel Syrian troops from southern Lebanon by April that year.21 This consensus included Arab states, most notably Saudi Arabia, and was seen as evidence of a Western-run conspiracy to undermine Syria. According to this narrative, Syria was as anti-USA as Iran, and should not have been affected by popular uprisings. The cracks in the official accounts of the Arab revolution were made even more daunting for the Iranian regime as Assad’s hold on power was tested by the spread of the revolt. Syria represented the only state ally for Iran in the region. Its geographical location allowed the Iranian regime direct access to southern Lebanon, a most valued logistical asset for the training and supply of the Hizbullah. The decline of Assad’s authority in Syria and the descent into civil war had a major impact on Iran’s access to Hizbullah. This was unacceptable to the Islamic regime in Iran. The Iranian position was categorical: the Assad regime must not fall. The initial reaction in Iran to the unfolding events in Syria (March 2011) was one of denial. Iran’s media coverage of Syria was conspicuous by its absence. But it was clear that the Iranian authorities could not simply wish away the unrest in Syria. Amid growing urgency of hourly coverage of the Syrian conflict by leading news agencies such as the BBC and Al-Jazeera, the Iranian media commenced an unashamedly partisan coverage that contradicted other international reports. According to the Iranian media, the Syrian conflict was a result of terrorist activity, funded and sponsored by Western powers. The conflict was portrayed as a Western conspiracy to topple a representative government. This

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was of course the official line and was repeated continuously by state officials.22 For the Islamic regime in Iran, the continuing crisis in Syria and the prospects of Assad’s fall were a major ideological and strategic threat. The decision to provide support to the embattled regime in Syria was therefore not surprising. A draft report to the UN Security Council noted Iranian military supplies were sent to Damascus to help crush the uprising, in violation of the UN ban on the export of arms.23 The report also noted that arms were supplied to the rebels by Arab Kingdoms of the Gulf. This level of external interest in the Syrian case risked turning the conflict into a proxy war and made Iran even more determined to maintain the Assad regime as a bulwark against the rising Saudi influence. This, argues Mohammed Ayoob, gives the Syrian conflict a major regional edge.24 As the stakes were raised and the international community became more concerned about curtailing the Iranian arms supply, the Islamic regime turned to its neighbour and utilized Iraqi airspace to continue its supply of arms to Syria.25 Iran’s affiliation with the ruling Syrian regime pushed another important factor to the fore. The Assad family belongs to the minority Alawite community (following Ali bin Abi Talib, the first imam of the Shi‘a sect) that is regarded as heresy by many in the Sunni community, which constitutes a majority in Syria and most of the Arab world (but not Iraq).26 The wealthy ruling regimes in Saudi Arabia and its Gulf kingdoms, as well as other Arab regimes such as that of the outspoken King of Jordan, have all viewed the Syrian Alawite regime with disdain. In a major speech in December 2004, for example, King Abdullah warned of an emerging Shi‘a Crescent, pointing to the political ascendancy of Shi‘a-affiliated political players from Lebanon, to Syria, to Iraq and Iran. In the past, Iran had denied the sectarian factor in its foreign policy. In fact it had made extra efforts to downplay sectarian affiliations and emphasize the unity of the Muslim umma. According to Suzanne Maloney, a leading scholar on Iran, this country’s foreign policy experienced ebbs and flows commensurate with the change of guards, but narrow sectarianism was never a focus.27 Instead, Iran promoted a revolutionary agenda of a united Muslim resistance front against unresponsive national governments and their Western backers. Such efforts were most effective in relation to the Palestinian Hamas. Iran emerged as a major sponsor of Hamas following its take-over of



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the Gaza Strip in 2007 – supplying its arsenal of rockets that threatened Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. But the Arab revolution changed the landscape dramatically. For Arab observers, Iranian foreign policy seemed to be guided by its sectarian identity. First in relation to Bahrain and then in relation to Syria, Iran sided with Shi‘a players: one in opposition, one in power. This impression was a major blow to Iran’s self-image as the champion of the Muslim masses against the corruption of the Westernpropped ruling regimes. Iran’s unapologetic support for the Syrian regime proved to be a major strategic liability, and cost Iran dearly. The Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood and the Palestinian Hamas were incensed by the Assad regime’s brutality against the opposition, which included the Syrian branch of the Muslim Brotherhood. The extent of the rift was highlighted by the Egyptian President Mohammed Morsi, who was prepared to offend his Iranian hosts at the convention of the Non-Aligned Movement in Tehran (June 2012) by openly declaring support for the Syrian masses against the Assad regime.28 This rift also marginalized Iran on the Palestinian front. The Hamas opposition to the Assad regime called into question its alignment with Iran and led to a break in the Hamas–Syria–Iran alliance that had helped it manage the Gaza Strip.29 Instead Hamas turned to Egypt (now dominated by the Muslim Brotherhood), Qatar and Turkey for financial and diplomatic assistance and recognition.

Iran’s Demise Contrary to Iran’s expectations, the Arab revolution did not strengthen the position of the Islamic regime as the leading force in the Middle East. The revolution spread throughout the region, challenging unrepresentative governments, regardless of their ideology. This was contrary to Iran’s worldview that saw the popular uprising as an Islamic revolution against US-friendly states. The rise of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, and more widely the growing assertiveness of Islamists in the Arab world, did not equate with greater influence for Iran. Instead Turkey, with its own experience of adapting Islam into public life, has proved to be a much more appealing model. This model offers a fresh approach to Islam and politics, an approach that has been marginalized in the Middle East by zealous Islamists who pursued a top-down Islamization of society by

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capturing the state or opportunistic rulers who used Islam to legitimize their autocratic rule. The Turkish model, which may be dubbed Muslimdemocratic, mirroring the Christian-democratic tradition in Europe, proved to be most popular for the Muslim Brotherhood as it attempted to navigate its way in the uncharted post-Mubarak era. The obvious advantages of this model are manifold: 1. It makes a clear and unequivocal reference to Islam. No popular regime in the Middle East can ignore the deep connection with religion and its significance in the collective sense of identity and purpose. 2. It is equally committed to democracy as the best model of government. The Brotherhood has a long history of working within the system and, despite pressure from extremist splinter groups that challenged the legitimacy of democracy as ‘manmade’ (as opposed to divine Islamic law), has remained committed to operate within the boundaries of democratic rule. Critics may argue that this behaviour has more to do with pragmatism than a principled commitment – but that does not detract from the modus operandi of the Muslim Brotherhood. 3. It is consistent with Western expectations on the future direction of political developments in the Middle East. This is an important consideration. The Muslim Brotherhood is fully aware of the negative image associated with the Iranian model and how that could alienate significant support (or tolerance) for its growing role in the post-Mubarak era. The growing popularity of the Muslim-democratic model in the wake of the Arab revolution attests to the limits of the Iranian model and its fading influence in the region. But what has seriously undermined Iran’s retracting soft power is the widely held view in the region that it is pursuing a sectarian foreign policy. Iran’s double standard in relation to the popular uprisings in Bahrain and Syria has seriously damaged its standing. Support for the minority regime of the Alawite Bashar al-Assad against the popular uprising of the Sunni masses in Syria sits in stark contrast with Iran’s vehement condemnation of the Sunni Al Khalifa regime and support for the Shi‘a masses. Iran had tried to avoid sectarian affiliations in its foreign policy in the past, but the Arab



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revolution has forced its hand and any capital it may have accrued on the Arab streets by sponsoring the Sunni Hamas movement against Israel has rapidly evaporated. The rise of the Muslim-democratic model, espoused in Turkey and increasingly popular in Egypt, also undermines Iran’s claim to be the voice of Arab/Muslim masses in relation to Israel. Turkey has managed to gain significant traction in the Middle East for its firm, but not hostile, relations with Israel. Turkey’s serious diplomatic clash with Israel over the latter’s illegal treatment of the Gaza flotilla enhanced Ankara’s public standing on the Arab streets. This episode, and Turkey’s consistently assertive relations with Israel under the leadership of the Justice and Development Party, contradict the Iranian worldview that good relations with the United States would automatically translate into submitting to Israeli whims in the region. The dynamics of Turkey’s relations with Israel is already being reproduced in Egypt as the Muslim Brotherhood consolidates its position. Egypt under the presidency of Mohammed Morsi is more than likely to take a less accommodating position in relation to Israel and follow a trajectory resembling that of Turkey. This will signify a break with the Mubarak era and undermine Iran’s claim of being the sole champion of Muslim interests.

Conclusion The rapid demise of Iran’s soft power in the Arab world has coincided with the growing salience of the sectarian divide. This is a threat to the political stability of the region. The growing prominence of the sectarian fault-line in the Arab world has the potential to fracture the popular push for democratic rule and undermine the legitimacy of the revolution. This is most evident in Bahrain where the uprising has become widely seen in the Arab world to be manipulated by Iran. The Bahrain movement for reform has suffered as a result of this association. Iran finds itself in a lonely spot. The Arab revolution has highlighted the limits of its ideological appeal. This has internal implications for the ruling regime. The loss of its natural support-base on the Arab streets has increased tension within the regime, even though the Islamic regime has been at pains to conceal internal discord. In 2011, a dispute between

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the supreme leader and the President over a ministerial appointment paralysed the government for nearly two weeks, with President Ahmadinejad boycotting all official meetings.30 Tensions between the President and the supreme leader continued to fester and, in February 2012, the President was summoned to appear before the parliament and respond to a grilling set of questions about his policies. The very public nature of this high-level discord is unprecedented, something not seen since the Islamists managed to eliminate the liberal faction associated with the presidency of Abulhassan Banisadr in 1980–1. The Arab revolution and growing internal discord also raise the prospects of the resumption of protests in Iran. It may be noted that the 2009 Green Movement in Iran was the precursor of the 2010–11 Arab revolution. The latter in turn could rejuvenate the Green Movement. The prospects of the Arab revolt engulfing Iran have indeed been noted by many observers, including the Muslim Brotherhood. This is a great concern for the Iranian leadership as it tries to maintain its grip on power. The Islamic regime is fully aware of the risks and has moved to contain the threat from within. It observed how the Arab uprising caught incumbent regimes by surprise, especially in Tunisia and Egypt. The Islamic regime is trying to avoid the same fate by keeping its guard up and repressing its internal opponents.

Notes 1 2 3

4 5

6

‘“Egyptian revolution’s victory will be irreversible defeat for US” Iranian Leader’, BBC Monitoring International Reports, 4 February 2011. Afshin Molavi, ‘Invoking the Arab Spring, Iran rewrites its own history’, The National, 6 April 2011. For the official account of this conference see ‘Islamic Awakening Conference final communiqué’, The WorldForum for Proximity of Islamic Schools of Thought, 21 September 2011, available at: http://www.taqrib.info/english/index.php?option=com_ content&view=article&id=385:islamic-awakening-conference-final-communique&catid=35:2009-08-31-05-01-28&Itemid=63, accessed 10 February 2012. ‘Envoy to Algeria says Islamic Awakening inspired by Iran’s revolution’, BBC Monitoring International Reports, 18 September 2011. ‘Presidential aide reiterates Tehran’s opposition to foreign intervention in Syria’, FARS News Agency, 2 July 2011, available at: http://english.farsnews.com/newstext. php?nn=9103084696, accessed 18 June 2013. ‘Foreign policy dissuades revolutions to admit Iran’s influence – ex-President’, BBC Monitoring International Reports, 8 August 2011.

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‘How the effects of “Arab Spring” could play out in Iran’s upcoming elections, interview with Farideh Farhi’, The Business Insider, 8 April 2011. 8 Firas Abu Hilal, ‘Iran and the Arab Revolutions: Positions and repressions’, Arab Centre for Research and Policy Studies, September 2011. 9 Olivier Roy, ‘The Cold Choice – jobs or jihad’, New Statesman, 25 January 2012, available at: http://www.newstatesman.com/middle-east/2012/01/arab-egypt-iranmuslim, accessed 18 June 2013. 10 Peter Clottey, ‘Muslim Brotherhood spokesman: Egypt not Iran’, VOA, 13 February 2011, available at: http://www.voanews.com/english/news/africa/--MuslimBrotherhood-Spokesman-Egypt-Not-Iran--116135244.html, accessed 18 June 2013. 11 Daniel Steinvorth and Volkhard Windfuhr, ‘Muslim Brotherhood’s Rashad AlBayoumi “the Revolution will continue until our demands are met”’, Spiegel, 2 July 2011, available at: http://www.spiegel.de/international/world/0,1518,druck-743919,00. html, accessed 18 June 2013. 12 Zvi Bar’el, ‘Muslim brotherhood lawmaker: Arab Spring headed to Iran’, Haaretz, 28 February 2012, available at: http://www.haaretz.com/news/middle-east/muslimbrotherhood-lawmaker-arab-spring-headed-to-iran-1.415380, accessed 18 June 2013. 13 Arab American Institute Foundation, Arab Attitudes towards Iran, 2011, available at: http://aai.3cdn.net/fd7ac73539e31a321a_r9m6iy9y0.pdf, accessed 18 June 2013. 14 ‘Iran envoy not returning to Bahrain’, Iranian Government News, 25 October 2011. 15 ‘Iran will not reinstate its ambassador to Bahrain: Deputy FM’, Press TV, 18 August 2012. 16 ‘Kuwait unveils 8 spy cells employed by Iran: Report’, Al-Arabiya, 1 April 2011, available at: http://www.alarabiya.net/articles/2011/04/01/143853.html, accessed 18 June 2013. 17 ‘Bahrain-Iran’, The Middle East Reporter (Beirut), 2 November 2011. 18 ‘Iran plot to assassinate Saudi Ambassador foiled By DOJ sting’, The Huffington Post, 11 October 2011, available at: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/10/11/iran-terrot-plotsaudi-arabia-ambassador-us-assassination_n_1005861.html, accessed 18 June 2013. 19 Robert Dreyfuss, ‘The Iran plot may be just that’, Tehran Bureau, 15 October 2011, available at: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/tehranbureau/2011/10/the-iranplot-may-be-just-that.html, accessed 18 June 2013. 20 Martyn Indyk, ‘The Iranian connection’, Foreign Policy, 12 October 2011, available at: http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2011/10/12/the_iranian_connection, accessed 18 June 2013. 21 ‘Syrian troops leave Lebanese soil’, BBC News, 26 April 2005, available at: http://news. bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/4484325.stm, accessed 18 June 2013. 22 ‘Western countries oppose democracy in Syria: Iranian official’, Press TV, 26 December 2012, available at: http://www.presstv.ir/detail/2012/12/26/280189/west-opposesdemocracy-in-syria, accessed 18 June 2013. 23 ‘Iran “sending arms to Syria despite ban”’, Al-Jazeera, 17 May 2012, available at: http:// www.aljazeera.com/news/americas/2012/05/20125175553158930.html, accessed 18 June 2013. 24 Mohammed Ayoob, ‘The Arab Spring: Its geostrategic significance’, Middle East Policy 19(3), p. 85.

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25 ‘Iraq’s foreign policy pressures’, BBC News, 11 October 2012, available at: http://www. bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-19908094, accessed 18 June 2013. 26 Jackson Diehl, ‘Lines in the sand’, World Affairs, May/June 2012, pp. 7–15. 27 Suzanne Maloney, ‘Identity and change in Iran’s foreign policy’, in Shibley Telhami and Michael Barnett (eds), Identity and Foreign Policy in the Middle East, Cornell University Press, 2002, p. 88–115. 28 ‘Morsi tells Iran that Syria’s Assad must go’, Telegraph, 30 June 2012. 29 Erik Mohns and Andre Bank, ‘Syrian revolt fallout: End of the resistance axis?’, Middle East Policy 19(3), p. 32. 30 Geneive Abdo, ‘Iran: Ahmadinejad vs Khamenei’, Al-Jazeera, 6 July 2011, available at: http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/opinion/2011/06/201162994514399969.html, accessed 18 June 2013.

CHAPTER 6

Central Asia and the Arab Spring Discourses of Relevance and Threat in the Region Kirill Nourzhanov

The political tumult in the Middle East and North Africa in 2011 did not have a ripple effect in Central Asia. The regimes in all five former Soviet Muslim republics of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan had a reasonably quiet year, at least by the region’s standards. The ruling elites and the population in general regarded the events of the Arab Spring as something distant, mildly disturbing, yet not immediately relevant to their daily survival. This indifference reflected a broad consensus in Central Asian societies that strongly militated against Middle East-style popular uprisings toppling authoritarian governments. A high-ranking US Department of State official outlined its essence in a testimony before a Congress committee when he commented on the weakness of political opposition in the region and the fact that ordinary people put a premium on stability ‘and are weary of the turmoil and unpredictability in recent years in neighboring Afghanistan and, to a certain extent, Kyrgyzstan’.1 He was echoed by a leading Russian expert on Central Asia who wrote that ‘the impact of the Arab Spring on Central Asia is extremely insignificant, and one cannot talk about the overthrow of the local regimes at all at present,’ adding by way of explanation: ‘There are differences in the quality of societies in the Arab world on the one hand, and the Central Asian region on the other hand. The former have had access, even if to a limited extent, to the Western political culture; the latter by and large remain hostages of the Soviet epoch.’2 The Central Asian media landscape was not conducive to a vigorous public debate on the revolutionary turmoil in Tunisia, Libya and Egypt in 2011. The totalitarian regime of Turkmenistan imposed what one

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analyst called ‘an absolute blackout on news about the Arab Spring’.3 With very few exceptions, the subject remained a taboo in Uzbekistan, where journalists and commentators obeyed direct government orders or exercised prudent self-censorship. Even in the more liberal republics, pertinent news stories and reports were usually sourced from Russian information outlets that followed a conservative script in covering regime change in the Arab world. A typical government position across the region was voiced by the chief political adviser to the President of Kazakhstan who opined that ‘an Arab-style revolution is impossible in principle in Kazakhstan … Kazakhs have never rebelled against central authorities’.4 Such statements are not pure propaganda; the incumbent regimes in Central Asia do feel confident enough, at least for the time being. This does not prevent them from actively studying the recent developments in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) and drawing important lessons from them that should enhance their capacity to survive in the future. The process of deconstruction and securitization of the Arab Spring lends itself to discourse analysis in the cases of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, while Uzbekistan and especially Turkmenistan present great challenges to an outside observer in this regard. This chapter will examine the narratives about the Arab Spring produced by the political elites and the expert community in the region, focusing primarily on their security dimensions. While there are some country-specific differences in these stories, on the whole they follow three broad themes around which the chapter will be structured. It will also discuss policy action by the regimes in response to the security threats associated with the Arab Spring. A brief foray into alternative representations of the revolutionary changes in the Middle East and what they mean for Central Asia will complete the picture.

Interpreting the Arab Spring in Central Asia: Three Common Themes in Official and Expert Discourse A year after the onset of what some term ‘the latest Arab Awakening’, its story viewed through Central Asian eyes comprises three interlocking components. Firstly, there is a narrative of external involvement. The



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long-established governments of Tunisia, Egypt and Libya succumbed to a conspiracy of Western nations pursuing selfish geopolitical interests. Syria and eventually Iran will follow suit if the current trend persists. Secondly, the toppled regimes had lost broad legitimacy among their own populations through their failure to expedite economic growth and observe social justice. Thirdly, the proliferation of social media and new information technologies contributed to the mobilization of radical elements of society against the status quo, and the authorities’ tardiness and complacency in countering the alternative means of political communication eventually doomed them.

Machinations of the West Exogenous factors and the grand geopolitical conspiracy are the most important elements behind regime change in MENA as far as the Central Asian leaders and security intellectuals are concerned. This perception has been strongly influenced by the views of Russia and Iran. In November 2011, a regular meeting of the heads of government of the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (SCO – of which all Central Asian republics barring Turkmenistan are members) took place where the Arab Spring was discussed. At this gathering Iran’s Foreign Minister spelled out his country’s position, saying that ‘the events in the region and popular uprisings are the result of the assistance that was rendered to the anti-people regimes on behalf of the arrogant world powers’; he was immediately supported by Russian Premier Vladimir Putin: ‘Yes, indeed, as you said, these arrogant world powers used to support the previous regimes in North Africa, and, curiously, they have been assisting revolutions in North Africa overthrowing past regimes as well.’5 As to the precise reasons for the arrogant West’s duplicity and oscillation between regime support and denial, access to mineral resources seems to be the catch-all explanation. Uzbekistan’s president, Islam Karimov, kept his citizens informed via a rare comment on staterun television: The Arab countries where disturbances occurred have very substantial natural wealth including hydrocarbons. But for the

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interference from abroad, if there had not been large external funding, such big disturbances in the Arab countries of North Africa and the Middle East wouldn’t have taken place.6 The Tajik leader, Emomali Rahmon, mentioned in his annual state of the nation address that the ‘tragic and scandalous events in the Middle East and the Arab world’ were representative of the general lack of stability in international relations in the unipolar world.7 In the opinion of a prominent Middle East expert from Kyrgyzstan, the region’s revolts were started by ‘popular masses harbouring noble intentions, but the situation was masterfully exploited by external forces that ended up manipulating them … And their objective consists of re-division of the market and access to raw materials’.8 The thesis of the West’s centrality to instability in the Middle East received a particularly systematic and in-depth treatment by the expert community of Kazakhstan. The Strategic Studies Institute under the President of Kazakhstan (KISI) led the way. KISI’s chief analyst, Murat Laumulin, published a definitive book on the subject, the central thesis of which is that following the fiascos of Iraq and Afghanistan the United States could no longer play the role of a global policeman and opted instead for a subtler way to uphold its hegemony: When talking about the reasons for revolutionary turmoil in the Arab world and the extent of external involvement in it, it is impossible to be silent on the theory of ‘guided chaos’ underpinned by the interests of the United States.9 The policies of Washington entail the retention of control at all costs over the huge hydrocarbon reserves and the prevention of their export to China and Europe, thus containing their economic growth. One of the methods used to accomplish this goal is the utilisation of national separatist and extremist movements to destabilise regions beyond its control – the so-called ‘guided chaos’. These are exactly the techniques we see in use in the countries of North Africa and the Middle East that have been going through ‘date revolutions’.10 Laumulin explained that the United States and its allies wished to replace Ben Ali of Tunisia, Mubarak of Egypt and Gaddafi of Libya – ‘essentially



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loyal but difficult to control (owing to their long tenures in power)’ – by ‘puppets permanently dependent on external political support’.11 His colleague from Tajikistan’s presidential Centre for Strategic Studies concurred, adding that such replacement is an integral element of the West’s grand design to generate ‘constant, uninterrupted and managed conflicts’ to serve its selfish interests.12 While security intellectuals in Central Asia are in agreement about the complicity of the USA and its NATO allies in regime change in MENA, they are divided on the issue of whether the West will engage in similar behaviour in Central Asia. According to a popular Russianlanguage weekly in Tajikistan, this is already happening: The NATO-provoked war in Libya has spread beyond the boundaries of that country. Africa’s map is being redrawn … Unfortunate negroes [sic] are going to kill each other for Western or Chinese interests. And what does Tajikistan have to do with this? Exactly the same scenario is being realised in Tajikistan … The West is trying to interfere here with its new colonial policy. We, esteemed readers, live in Tajikistan that is situated in ‘black Africa’.13 The majority of commentators and official spokespersons tend to be more sanguine: the incumbent regimes have clearly been trying to persuade their constituencies that the threat of the West’s geopolitical meddling is either not immediate and/or can be forestalled. Central Asia’s advantageous geostrategic location forms part of an optimistic discursive thread: this region is too important to Washington and its allies to be destabilized at present. Its proximity to Afghanistan ensures that the West nurtures a special relationship with the incumbent regimes in the lead-up to the 2014 withdrawal of NATO troops from that country and possibly much longer. Throughout 2011 and early 2012, foreign diplomats frequented Central Asian capitals negotiating deals about basing rights, the evacuation of troops and equipment via the region and the maintenance of security on Afghanistan’s northern frontier. In the whirlwind of pragmatic diplomacy, the West’s concerns about authoritarianism and poor human rights track records have been cast aside. This became particularly evident during the US Secretary of State’s visit to Dushanbe and Tashkent in late 2011; Hillary Clinton’s

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encounter with Islam Karimov proved particularly fruitful. In its wake, the Uzbek President’s dictatorial excesses were pronounced ‘a thing of the past’, and the United States decided to ‘forget’ the gruesome Andijan massacre which had led to the decline of bilateral relations in 2005.14 Karimov’s press service characterized the visit as an indication of an ‘even stronger partnership based on mutual trust and respect’.15 The British government has similarly abrogated its high moral stand in dealing with Uzbekistan.16 Many analysts in Central Asia have pointed out the passing nature of this alliance of convenience and the cynicism of Western diplomacy. Clinton was warmly welcomed by officials in Tajikistan, including by its Foreign Minister who has a reputation as an Americophile. At the same time, one of the country’s leading political observers pointed out that her visit took place the day after the violent death of Gaddafi – a leader who had operated under the illusion that he had mended fences with the West. In a rather familiar tone, he wrote: ‘Hillary is a pretty woman, but she came here not as a woman but as a politician. The same kind of narrow-minded and lying politician as Bush Jr. And she deserved to be thrown a shoe at as a sign that we are sick and tired of their lies.’17 Central Asian countries would require something more tenable than a temporary rapprochement with the West to protect them against the foreign disease of regime change, and a strong alliance with Moscow simply cannot be beaten in this regard. Laumulin has summarized this reality succinctly: ‘Several CIS leaders have realised the fact that if a similar crisis erupts, nobody will protect them from humanitarian intervention and a repetition of the Libyan scenario but Russia.’18 The Collective Security Treaty Organisation (CSTO) has emerged as a key platform to prevent the spread of a revolutionary plague in the former Soviet Union. Led by Russia, this military bloc also incorporates four Central Asian republics (Turkmenistan is not involved), Armenia and Belarus. In August 2011, the CSTO held an unofficial summit in Astana to discuss what the president of Kazakhstan, Nursultan Nazarbaev, the gathering’s host, described as ‘global and regional risks to security and stability of the CSTO states arising from the recent developments in the world’.19 His Belarusian colleague, Alexander Lukashenko, later admitted that the bulk of the participants’ time was devoted to turning the organization into a broad anti-revolutionary



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front charged with averting a repetition of the Tunisian, Egyptian and Libyan events.20 In November 2011, the CSTO secretary-general, Nikolai Bordiuzha, tabled a detailed situation report analysing security threats in the Central Asian theatre of operations. These incorporated, inter alia, activities of certain countries or group of countries aimed at imposing the rules of behaviour upon populations of other sovereign states, discrediting leaders and organs of power of individual states, forming and coordinating operations of opposition forces under the pretext of developing democratic freedoms. To achieve these ends, various international institutions are used, including their information capacity (the so-called shadow Internet, uncontrolled mobile communication systems), ramified networks of NGOs financed and directed by them, and various funds and charitable organizations.21 Bordiuzha presented his organization as a ‘multifunctional entity capable of counteracting the entire spectrum of modern challenges and threats’,22 and highlighted the 20,000-strong Collective Rapid Reaction Forces (CRRF) and co-ordinated information security policies as the two most important instruments to deflect the threat outlined above. The official CSTO summit in December 2011 ratified major changes to the organization’s modus operandi, including the possibility of deploying the CRRF in situations of internal conflict (theretofore their mandate was strictly to repel an external aggressor), the creation of specialized institutions for cyber warfare, and the chartered provision that no member could host a third party’s military base on its territory without the consensual agreement of all other members. Remarkably, even Karimov, who had resisted these changes since 2006, signed on the dotted line. The Russian President’s spokeswoman was clearly pleased, calling the summit ‘a factor of stability in the Eurasian continent and vivid demonstration of the allied nature of relations among our countries’.23 Some analysts in Moscow went so far as to predict (rather prematurely) that even Turkmenistan would abandon its strict neutrality and join the CSTO in two or three years in order to safeguard itself against the ‘Middle Eastlike scenarios’.24

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Social Justice and the Problem of Legitimacy The general perception among the Central Asians is that external forces exploited deep structural vulnerabilities in the Arab countries to execute regime change. All commentators in the region acknowledge that ‘unemployment, poverty, corruption, arbitrariness, and the weakening of the ruling regimes’ authority’ were the root causes of popular dissatisfaction that eventually led to urban riots in MENA.25 However, these problems had festered for many years if not decades, and why they acquired particular salience in 2011 required an explanation. In Nazarbaev’s opinion, this was all about relative deprivation rather than absolute deterioration of living conditions. The global financial crisis exposed a growing gap between the very rich and very poor, propelling social justice and equality to the forefront of the political debate. Significantly, the President of Kazakhstan treated ‘anti-government protests in North Africa, the United States, the United Kingdom and Europe’ as identical phenomena.26 From this standpoint, governments in the West should consider themselves lucky that no external agent tried to harness these disturbances to overthrow them. A counter-narrative prevalent in Central Asia today may be called ‘benign paternalism’. Its main theme rests on the idea that, unlike the ossified and selfish regimes in the Middle East, Central Asian governments act responsibly and flexibly as universal providers and upholders of justice towards their respective societies. As one expert put it, ‘The Islamic world has experienced its own specific problems. Youth unemployment, income stratification of the population, and a high percentage of the poor have led to the protest mood … Against this background, the countries of Central Asia have lived a parallel life.’27 In March 2011, KISI held a roundtable discussion headlined ‘The Arab crisis: causes, challenges, consequences’. Many prominent Kazakhstani scholars attended; a snapshot of their statements below provides insights into the new-fangled Central Asian exceptionalism as well as the quality of the expert discussion: • ‘What is the lesson of the Arab crisis for us? It consists of the fact that evidently the policy we have pursued is cardinally different from the policy of Arab countries. It

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• •

•

•

129

aims not just at the development of market relations; it is well-balanced and it resolves social problems.’ ‘Our situation is unequivocally better. State resources are huge.’ ‘The main thing is that our system of organization still carries Soviet elements. We are not a “straight” Oriental society.’ ‘Our main advantage is that we have a strong vertical structure of power [vertikal’]. This is a key factor because if there are too many fissures in the vertikal’, all societal contradictions will irrupt as we can observe in the case of Libya.’ ‘The Arab crisis may not be over just because governments change there. It is important that the economic policy also change in the direction of the model the efficiency of which has been proven in Kazakhstan.’28

Today, speeches of Central Asian leaders resemble the socialist triumphalism of the Soviet era more than ever since the collapse of the USSR. Addressing the nation on the occasion of Uzbekistan’s 20th anniversary of independence, Karimov cited figures about accelerating rates of GDP growth, rising incomes, declining child mortality, progress in education and public health and other alleged signs of prosperity, rounding it up with a pithy observation that ‘these indicators which cannot be frequently seen in the world practice visibly demonstrate that for us the life of a human being and the protection and safeguarding of his interests constitute the main goal’.29 Such rhapsodic assessment would not be out of place in Leonid Brezhnev’s report to a Communist Party congress; the only difference is that Karimov and his fellow-presidents situate the roots of their success in their positions as fathers of the nation rather than in the dogma of Marxism-Leninism. The emphasis on a strong egalitarian state as a positive value has led to rather paradoxical findings about the moving forces of events in the Middle East. Experts at the leading government think tank in Uzbekistan, for example, have arrived at the conclusion that Gaddafi’s regime was overthrown because of the success of his socio-economic policies rather than failures:

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All these years Muammar annoyed Arab absolute monarchies with his ideas of socialist Islam. He hit them on the weak spot – the mechanism of distributing profits from oil. His Jamahiriyya [Libya] was a giant mote in the eye of the elites in the Gulf petromonarchies corrupted by big money… So they, using the talk of democracy (Saudites[sic] and democracy – this is the information hit of the year!) and the need to protect the rebels liquidated Muammar’s Jamahiriyya in a clinical and accurate manner. A forty year-old problem named Muammar Qaddafi’s ideas about the construction of Islamic socialism is now buried. And it is a pity. A lot can be learned from Muammar, and not only by the oil monarchies of the Gulf.30 Public protests or revolutions, especially when supported from the outside, may disrupt steady if at times slow economic progress guided by an experienced and caring leader. Nazarbaev could not have been more eloquent in pushing this message through when he said: ‘I feel very sorry about residents of countries where the so-called “revolutions” take place, because, as [French writer Victor] Hugo once said “revolution always breeds poverty, and poverty is a foundation for revolution”.’31 The President of Kazakhstan added that countries like Egypt had been pushed back by as much as 15 years in terms of their economic development, and pointed out that Ukraine, which experienced the ‘Orange Revolution’ in 2004, had fallen behind Kazakhstan economically despite having three times the population, access to international maritime trade, and a much more diversified and modern infrastructure inherited from the Soviet Union. Even the incumbent Kyrgyzstani politicians, who used to refer to the events of 2010 that brought them to power as a ‘popular revolution’, have found it necessary to dissociate themselves from the uprisings in the Middle East and endorse the path of gradual reforms. The outgoing president at the time, Roza Otunbaeva, said in her farewell speech before parliament in November 2011 that ‘the “Arab Spring” does not have a positive outcome yet. Political confrontation in those countries continues, innocent people are dying, and provisional governments cannot cope with the crisis’.32 Her successor as the head of state, Almazbek Atambaev, issued a cautionary note that an unpopular government could be replaced by an even worse regime in the wake of



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a revolution and that change was usually possible within the existing system: ‘Just a bit of patience is required … I have gone through two revolutions. Believe me, one always has to take an evolutionary path.’33

The Perils of New Social Media A small book published in 2011 by a government think tank in Kazakhstan entitled Technologies of the ‘Arab Spring’: Power and Opposition stated: The penetration of traditional Arab societies by Western ideology and culture has become a major factor of protest action. The determining role in this process has been played by the mass media and especially the Internet, as well as personal contacts with the representatives of Western civilisation. Youths who perceive an image of society based on consumerism as ideal are particularly susceptible to such influence.34 It then outlined specific cases of what it termed ‘political-information technologies of direct impact on society’ which caught the Arab regimes unprepared, with the information warfare waged by the ‘biased and tendentious’ Western media institutions being the most important one.35 Such sentiments are widely shared by commentators in Central Asia. In Tajikistan, the powerful chairman of the parliament’s upper house called on government officials to learn from the lessons of external interference in the Arab countries and ‘protect the information environment and avert the contamination of our national values by alien and radical ideas threatening peaceful harmony of our society’.36 The proliferation of new social media and internet-based platforms is deemed particularly dangerous – they are regarded as the Trojan horse of Western meddling. As a state-owned newspaper in Kazakhstan put it: ‘The “Arab spring” showed that external interference does not require being present inside the country, it is enough to enter the internet and excite people to vigorous acts.’37 Access to the internet and the number of Facebook users vary considerably from one country in the region to another (Table 1).

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Table 1: Internet and Facebook Users in Central Asia as of June 201138 Country

Internet penetration rate (% of population)

Facebook users

Kazakhstan

34.1

293,040

Kyrgyzstan

39.2

49,820

Tajikistan

9.2

20,260

Turkmenistan

1.6

13,000

26.8

82,900

Uzbekistan

Given Kyrgyzstan’s high level of exposure to the new social media and first-hand experience with online and SMS activism in the course of civil disturbances and ethnic riots in 2010,39 the expert community in that country is particularly worried about its exposure to the vagaries of the information war. ‘Over the past year US-sponsored Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) specialising in social networks and internet media have dramatically increased their activity in the Kyrgyz Republic,’ one observer wrote in June 2011, who then took particular exception to the ‘Bus of Liberty’ initiative funded by the Soros Foundation that had 15,000 young activists in rural Kyrgyzstan trained in social media and subscribed to Twitter.40 Another expert pointed out that the majority of some 11,000 foreign-funded NGOs in Kyrgyzstan perform intelligence gathering functions and interfere in domestic political processes such as elections, ending his analysis with an alarmist prediction: ‘If such tendencies are not curtailed, in future they may lead to the loss of sovereignty by our republic.’41 Authorities in other Central Asian countries have also registered concern about new social media working in conjunction with dark forces overseas. Islam Karimov enjoined journalists and bloggers in Uzbekistan ‘not to leave without attention to the fact that destructive forces striving to subvert the youth with shaky conscience and unformed outlook on life are trying to use the internet’s opportunities in their own selfish interest’.42 Shortly after, in a rare deviation from the essentially realist understanding of international relations and statecentric conspiracy theories, a popular Uzbek newspaper published an



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article suggesting that the international NGO community had acquired an agenda of its own separate from what donor governments in Washington or elsewhere may desire, and were using ‘technological and social networks’ all over the world to achieve regime change motivated by ill-conceived idealism.43 Policy responses to the newly identified threats posed by cyberspace have ranged from crude censorship and blocking or closing down websites to more subtle means of control. One external study has assessed the degree of government filtering as ‘pervasive’ in Uzbekistan, ‘substantial’ in Turkmenistan, and ‘selective’ in the other three countries.44 However, this milder grade for Turkmenistan is misleading, given that in December 2010 the government shut down the only alternative IP provider (a subsidiary of Russian MTS) leaving a government telecom monopoly firmly in charge. The latter promptly blocked Facebook, Twitter and YouTube in addition to opposition websites hosted abroad. In August 2011, the government of Uzbekistan published a decree according to which any media outlet can be suspended by officials if it is deemed ‘to render negative information-psychological impact on the social conscience of citizens’.45 At the same time, it launched a counter-offensive in cyberspace by setting up a sophisticated social networking platform – www.muloqot.uz – where participants can host blogs, download music and videos, exchange information and engage in a myriad other activities in virtual reality for free, provided they refrain from criticizing the regime and uphold ‘national traditions’. In Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan the preferred method of control seems to have a legalistic slant. Troublemakers on the internet are routinely taken to court for libel, defamation or extremism. The latter category in particular is so loosely defined in national criminal codes that essentially any activist could be put into it. Authorities in these countries have faced a technical problem of not having enough resources and qualified personnel to monitor the internet. Some ‘progress’ is being made, apparently – the head of the Kyrgyz secret police recently revealed the existence of specialist software enabling his agency to track web content containing materials ‘geared towards fomenting inter-ethnic strife’.46 As mentioned above, the CSTO is willing to help in this endeavour. In September 2011, a high-placed source in the organization revealed that it was already working to counter the so-called ‘shadow’ internet and mobile telephone systems developed by the United States for export

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to countries where regular systems are blocked.47 At the SCO summit in June 2011, Nazarbaev floated the ideas of ‘electronic sovereignty’ and ‘electronic borders’ as well as joint CyberPolice to thwart what he called ‘acts of internet aggression’ with help from ‘our Russian and Chinese friends’.48

Alternative Narratives of the Arab Spring and Prospects for Revolutionary Change in Central Asia Alternative discourses of the revolutionary change in MENA do exist in Central Asia but are drowned in the stream of negative assessment by official security intellectuals. Significantly, the public opinion at large has not been enthusiastically sympathetic towards the Arab Spring. There have been hardly any public manifestations of solidarity with Arabs fighting against tyrannical regimes. Nobody cheered on the streets of Almaty or Dushanbe as Hosni Mubarak was put under arrest. The scenes of Gaddafi’s death caused widespread shock and revulsion. It is not uncommon to see in the local media cultural explanations of excessive violence in the Arab world and why it is unlikely to be replicated in Central Asia. One publication claimed that ‘the Tajiks’ mentality is unquestionably different to that of the Arabs’, listing the following attributes of the former capped by a clinching summary: • practical mind and rational thinking; • restrained temperament, calmness and judiciousness; • the ability to endure difficulties with dignity and fortitude; absence of fussiness; and patience; • perseverance, industriousness and purposefulness in attaining the set goal. These and other traits of national character act as a restraining factor.49 Such subjective judgements are complemented by genuine apprehension about traumatic events in the recent past, e.g. the civil war in Tajikistan during 1992–7, the coups of 2005 and 2010 in Kyrgyzstan, and the brutal suppression of public unrest in Andijan in Uzbekistan in 2005. Rahmon



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may not have exaggerated when, commenting on the developments in Egypt, Libya and Yemen, he announced that ‘the people of Tajikistan have already become a victim of such events and now deeply realize the meaning of tranquillity, stability and peace’.50 Some have criticized the official narrative as too alarmist and unduly influenced by paranoid perceptions from Beijing, Tehran or Moscow, especially when it comes to the subversive role of the internet: ‘Our elite, being captive in the Russian information zindan [prison], has believed the fairy tale of the Russian mass media that social networks are the sources of “orange” revolutions.’51 Only the most radical of Central Asian oppositionists have called for regime change through street riots or large-scale acts of civil disobedience. As a rule, these firebrands live in exile in the West and have little traction on the ground. Muhammad Salih, an implacable enemy of the regime of Islam Karimov who was exiled to Norway almost 20 years ago, has recently indicated a change in his tactic of struggle: ‘The Arab Spring showed us that armed resistance against dictators such as Karimov is possible and can be considered legitimate.’52 Rahat Aliev, the former sonin-law of Nazarbaev who obtained political asylum in Austria, has called on the President of Kazakhstan to resign, return stolen money and atone before the people for numerous crimes lest he wanted to repeat ‘the tragic fate of dictators Ceausescu and Gaddafi’.53 Mainstream opposition parties in Central Asia have pursued a moderate line claiming that the Arab Spring is highly unlikely to spread to their countries if the powers that be undertake prudent reforms to improve the lives of their citizens. In April 2011, the influential Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan published an analytical report which concluded that none of the existing regimes in the region were under serious pressure from societal forces to embark upon radical reforms. It observed that the incumbent leaders ‘are not especially worried by the situation in the Arab states. However, they are not entirely indifferent to these developments either, as they want to preserve their centralised power and at the same time secure the people’s quiescence.’54 The report concluded that President Rahmon’s recent initiatives to increase ministers’ accountability, employ young cadres, reform the education system, and strengthen the independence of courts were promising steps in the direction of greater freedom and rejuvenation of the country’s political life. A popular opposition weekly published a wish list of reforms

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to protect Tajikistan ‘from the bitter experience of the authoritarian Arab states’ that included the improvement of the President’s image through cutting down the involvement of his immediate circle in business affairs; gradual devolution of authority from the presidency to other branches of power; the conduct of squeaky clean presidential elections in 2013 (which it was convinced Rahmon would win easily anyway); and the usual anti-corruption drive.55 The Central Asian leaders realize the instrumental value of reforms, however incremental and cosmetic these might be, to their political well-being. Most of them have played this game for many years, and the Arab Spring probably added precious little to their bag of tricks. The chief political adviser to the President of Kazakhstan hardly opened new vistas by his comment: ‘As the events in the Arab world demonstrated, people want change. And when the steam is not let out of the cauldron, the lid is blown off. Nursultan Abishevich [Nazarbaev] understands this very well and takes this into consideration.’56 An abrupt dismissal of parliament and snap elections in January 2012 should be viewed as an example of steam-letting in Kazakhstan. Following the poll, the national legislature’s lower house where all 97 seats used to be occupied by members of the President’s own party was diluted by 15 MPs from two opposition parties. This did not change its nature as a rubberstamp entity subordinate to the will of the head of state, but the regime spokesmen framed the event as the beginning of a meaningful reform process: ‘You will see, over the next three years, very slow, very gradual liberalization … The key reason is the president himself sees the need for a more balanced political system.’57 Presidential elections were held without a hitch in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan in 2011. Gurbanguly Berdymuhammedov was re-elected as president of Turkmenistan in January 2012 without breaking a sweat, winning 97 per cent of the vote. The leaders of Tajikistan and Uzbekistan do not face elections until 2013 and 2014 respectively, and as of mid2012 there are few signs they might experience difficulties staying in power. There are occupational hazards of course such as the leader’s mortality, elite infighting, terrorist acts, ethnic or sub-ethnic unrest and conflicts with neighbours, but a mass popular uprising spearheaded by the urban middle class does not feature prominently on this list. Polling instruments do not indicate the presence of a strong nation-wide protest mood in any country in the region. In fact, in 2011, Uzbekistan



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was identified as the leader in the former USSR (and one of the leaders worldwide) in terms of ‘net happiness and optimism’ by the Global Barometer for Happiness.58 A more sophisticated and methodologically sound public opinion survey in Tajikistan revealed a steady upward trend in satisfaction with the overall situation in the country: 22 per cent in 1996 to 65 per cent in 2004 and 68 per cent in 2010.59 Only 6.7 per cent of the population in Kazakhstan were prepared to take part in public actions (not necessarily hostile to the regime) to protect their civic rights in 2011, which prompted local sociologists to conclude that ‘social tensions have latent character’ in the country.60 Popular revolutions seem to be very unlikely in Central Asia today; however, similar statements were made about the situation in Tunisia or Egypt not so long ago. The situation may change rapidly, and this is precisely the reason why the lessons of the Arab Spring have been constantly studied and internalized by politically engaged actors of all stripes in Central Asia.

Conclusion In late 2011, an eminent political scientist from Tajikistan took stock of the revolutionary events in the Middle East and their echoes in Central Asia using a Sufi metaphor: The strangeness of the situation rests on the fact that in the year of tumult – from the ‘Arab Spring’ to the ‘Russian thaw’ – the peoples of Central Asia exhibited idyllic quietude. Our region, like an old dervish, gazed at the activism of many nations around the world and asked itself a question: ‘Where is everyone hurrying? It doesn’t matter, sooner or later, we shall all be there!’ In other words, we have total prevalence of fatalism, without a single trait of faith in our own initiative and civic position.61 This florid description neatly captures the prevalent atmosphere in the region. The Arab Spring did not have a domino effect on Central Asia and is unlikely to do so in the immediate future. Ordinary people in the region have stayed aloof from the excitement of struggles for freedom in the Middle East while the incumbent authoritarian regimes have acted

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to insure themselves against excessive meddling by the West, which they had identified as the primary reason for regime change in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya. Gradual reforms may forestall popular revolutions in Central Asia altogether; even if they do nothing, the ruling elites can still count on several years of relative stability. In any event, political trajectories in the Central Asian countries will continue to have greater resemblance to developments in the post-Soviet space rather than the Arab and Muslim world.

Notes 1 Robert O. Blake, ‘Central Asia and the Arab Spring: Growing pressure for human rights?’ Hearing, Commission on Security and Cooperation in Europe: US Helsinki Commission, Washington, DC: Rayburn House Office Building, 11 May 2011. Blake’s reference to Kyrgyzstan relates to the ousting of Kyrgyz President Kurmanbek Bakiev in a 2010 coup by rival elite groups. 2 Alexei Malashenko, ‘Obrechennye na Vechnost’ i Proziabanie’, Pro et Contra 15(3–4), 2011, p. 88. 3 Muhammad Tahir, ‘The Arab Spring: The Turkmen case’, Foreign Policy, 21 April 2011, available at: http://oilandglory.foreignpolicy.com/posts/2011/04/21/the_arab_spring_ the_turkmen_case, accessed 16 August 2011. 4 Ermuhamet Ertysbaev quoted in Anzhelika Gromova, ‘Revoliutsii Otmeniaiutsia, Ekspress K, 21 December 2011. 5 Quoted in ‘Putin Ulichil “Vysokomernye derzhavy” v Neposledovatelnosti, Vzgliad, 7 November 2011. 6 Quoted in ‘Karimov: Arabskie volneniia inspirirovany iz-za rubezha’, Imperiya, 10 May 2011, available at: http://www.imperiya.by/news.html?id=64839, accessed 15 November 2011. 7 Emomali Rahmon, ‘Payomi Prezidenti Jumhurii Tojikiston Emomali Rahmon ba Majlisi Oli dar borai samthoi asosii siyosati dokhili va khorijii Jumhurii Tojikiston’, Official Website of the President of the Republic of Tajikistan, 20 April 2011, available at: http://www.president.tj/habarho_200411.html, accessed 6 November 2011. 8 Quoted in Kifaiat Askerova, ‘Valimzhan tanyrykov: Anatomiia upravliaemogo khaosa. “Arabskaia vesna”: Eshche tsvety ili uzhe Gorkie plody?’, Slovo Kyrgyzstana, 8 March 2012. 9 M.T. Laumulin, ‘Arabskaia vesna’ 2011 Goda: Sotsialno-politicheskie Izmeneniia na Arabskom Vostoke i ikh Mezhdunarodnye Posledstviia, Almaty: KISI, 2011, p. 212. 10 Ibid., p. 213. 11 M.T. Laumulin, ‘K voprosu o vneshnem vmeshatelstve v Sobytiia na Arabskom Vostoke’, Kazakhstan Spektr 4(58), 2011, p. 53. 12 K. Jalilov, ‘Ispolzovanie Silovogo Faktora v Reshenii Mirovykh Problem’, Tadzhikistan i Sovremennyi Mir 4(29), 2011, p. 94.



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13 Aleksandr Rybin, ‘Voina v Livii: Epokha Novykh Gosudarstv v Afrike’, Biznes i politika, 12 April 2012. 14 ‘Background briefing in Tashkent’, Special Briefing, US Department of State, Tashkent, 22 October 2011, available at: http://www.state.gov/r/pa/prs/ps/2011/10/175988.htm ?goMobile=0, accessed 12 December 2011. 15 ‘”Gosudarstvennyi Sekretar” Soedinennykh Shtatov Ameriki Hillary Clinton (Rabochii vizit)’, Press-Sluzhba Prezidenta Respubliki Uzbekistan, 22 October 2011, available at: http://www.president.uz/#ru/news/show/oficialnyie_vizityi_v_uzbekist/us_secretary_ of_state_hillary_clinton_wo/hightext/клинтон, accessed 12 December 2011. 16 See Brian Brady and Jonathan Owen, ‘A dirty deal: Uzbek dictator “has UK over a barrel”. Karimov demands official visit in logistics deal over Britain’s pull-out from Afghanistan’, The Independent, 8 April 2012. 17 Zafar Abdullaev, ‘Rogun i Saksofon. Hilari posviashiaetsia’, Avesta, 24 October 2011. 18 Ibid., p. 218. Laumulin, ‘Arabskaia vesna’ 2011 Goda, p. 218. 19 Quoted in Valerii Vyzhutovich, ‘Antirevoliutsionnyi Kiberfront’, Rossiiskaia gazeta, 30 September 2011. 20 See Aleksandr Gabuev, ‘I ODKB Vyshla Blokom’, Kommersant, 13 August 2011. 21 N.N. Bordiuzha, ‘Napravlenie Razvitiia Sistemy Kollektivnoi Bezopasnosti v Svete Aktualnykh Problem Protivodeistviia Sovremennym Vyzovam i Ugrozam v Tsentralnoi Azii’, in B.K. Sultanov (ed), Napravleniia razvitiia sistemy kollektivnoi bezopasnosti v svete aktualnykh problem protivodeistviia sovremennym vyzovam i ugrozam v regione Tsentralnoi Azii, Almaty: KISI, 2011, p. 10. 22 Ibid., p. 13. 23 Quoted in Aleksandr Gavriliuk, ‘Tol’ko po Obshchemu Soglasiiu’, Vzgliad, 20 December 2011. 24 Vadim Trukhachev, ‘Turkmeniia: Mif o Perestroika Razveiian’, Voennoe Obozrenie, 15 February 2012. 25 Pan Chzhipin and Hu Hunpin, ‘Besporiadki v Arabskom Mire i Osnovnye Izmeneniia Geopoliticheskoi Situatsii’, Analytic 3(61), 2011, p. 97. 26 Quoted in ‘Glavnoi Prichinoi “arabskoi vesny” Iavliaetsia Sotsialnaia Napriazhennost’, Tengri News, 19 November 2011, available at: http://tengrinews.kz/world_news/ 201901, accessed 24 November 2011. 27 Marat Mamaev, ‘V range, Bez Galstukov’, Liter, 10 August 2011. 28 Translated from a transcript published in Iaroslav Razumov, ‘Arabskie “Revoliutsii i Kazakhstanskii Traibalizm Pod ‘sen’iu” Brezhnevskoi Epokhi’, Zona.kz, 16 March 2011, available at: http://zonakz.net/articles/33617, accessed 27 November 2011. 29 Islam Karimov, ‘Vystuplenie Pezidenta Islama Karimova na Torzhestvakh, Posviashchennykh 20-letiiu Nezavisimosti Respubliki Uzbekistan’, Official Website of the President of Uzbekistan, 31 August 2011, available at: http://www.president. uz/#ru/news/show/vistupleniya/vyistuplenie_prezidenta_islama_karimo_4, accessed 6 September 2011. 30 Bakhtiyor Ergashev, ‘Neskolko Replik po Sobytiiam v Arabskom Mire’, Centre for Economic Research, 5 September 2011, available at: http://blog.cer.uz/?p=2591 &replytocom=13675&cpage=3#comments, accessed 12 November 2011.

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31 N. Nazarbaev, ‘Mne Ochen’ zhal’ zhitelei Tekh Stran, gde Proiskhodiat Reoliutsii’, Zona.kz, 26 April 2012, available at: http://www.zakon.kz/4487405-mne-ochen-zhalzhitelejj-tekh-stran-gde.html, accessed 27 April 2012. 32 Roza Otunbaeva, ‘Obrashchenie Prezidenta KR R. Otunbaevoi (vystuplenie v Zhogorku Keneshe’, Kabar, 30 November 2011, available at: http://www.kabar.kg/rus/ politics/full/22904, accessed 6 December 2011. 33 ‘Stenogramma Interviu Almazbeka Atambaeva Radiostantsii “Ekho Moskvy”’, Vechernii Bishkek, 25 February 2012. 34 B.G. Muhammedzhanov and Z.T. Aziziova, Tekhnologii ‘Arabskoi vesny’: vlast’ i Oppozitsiia, Almaty: OF ‘Fond Pervogo Prezidenta RK, 2011, p. 7. 35 Ibid., pp. 15–17. 36 Mahmadsaid Ubaidulloev, ‘Vahdati Milli va Omilhoi Tahkimi On’, Official Website of the City Government of Dushanbe, 5 May 2011, available at: http://www.dushanbe.tj/ news/203, accessed 16 November 2011. 37 Raushan Shulembaeva, ‘Chtoby otrazit’ Kiberataki’, Kazakhstanskaia Pravda, 8 November 2011. 38 Brian J. Bowe et al., ‘Social Media, Cyber-Dissent, and Constraints on Online Political Communication in Central Asia’, Central Asia and the Caucasus 13(1), 2012, p. 148. 39 See Neil Melvin and Tolkun Umaraliev, ‘New social media and conflict in Kyrgyzstan’, SIPRI Insights on Peace and Security 1 (2011). 40 Ruslan Saparov, ‘Kuda Zavezet Kyrgyzstan “avtobus svobody”, ili Blizhnii Vostok vse Blizhe i Blizhe’, Dengi i Vlast, 19 June 2011. 41 Andrei Oreshkin, ‘Novye Voiny: KR uzhe na Fronte’, Moia Stolitsa, 13 May 2011. 42 Quoted in ‘Uzbekistan: Islam Karimov Prizval Molodezh’ nauchitsia otlichat’ v Internete Druzei ot Nedrugov’, Fergana.news, 27 June 2011, available at: http://www. fergananews.com/news.php?id=16936&mode=snews, accessed 5 September 2011. 43 ‘Razmyshleniia o NPO i Arabskikh “Revoliutsiiakh”’, Novosti Uzbekistana, 8 July 2011. 44 Bowe et al., ‘Social Media’, p. 150. 45 ‘Uzbekistan Uzhestochaet Kontrol’ za Internetom’, Rosbalt, 22 August 2011, available at: http://www.rosbalt.ru/exussr/2011/08/22/881859.html, accessed 17 December 2011. 46 ‘Internet – Pod Kontrol’ Komiteta Natsionalnoi Bezopasnosti?’, Polit.kg, 19 April 2012, available at: http://polit.kg/newskg/367, accessed 20 April 2012. 47 Petr Kozlov, ‘ODKB vozmetsia za sotsialnye seti’, Izvestia, 12 September 2011. 48 ‘Nazarbaev Predlozhil ShOS sozdat’ Kiberpol’, Bnews.kz, 15 June 2011, available at: http://www.bnews.kz/ru/news/post/52670, accessed 5 September 2011. 49 ‘Tadzhikistan: Stanet li Strana Kandidatom No. 1 v “tsepi revolitsii” SNG?’, Birzhevoi Lider, 5 March 2011. 50 Quoted in ‘Emomali Rahmon Schitaet, Chto Revoliutsiia v Tadzhikistane Nevozmozhna’, Vedomosti, 20 April 2011. 51 Mehrangez Tursunzoda, ‘Eksperty: Blokirovka Sotssetei Neeffektivnyi i Nedalnovidnyi Shag’, Asia-Plus, 3 March 2012. 52 Quoted in Hülya Şen, ‘Sürgündeki lider İHA’ya Konuştu’, Ihlas Haber Ajansi, 2 May 2012, available at: http://www.iha.com.tr/NewsDetailPrint.aspx?NewsId=225515&CatID=4, accessed 4 May 2012.



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53 Rahat Aliev, ‘Prekratit’ Massovye Ubiistva!’, Rakhat.org, 17 December 2012, available at: http://rakhat.org/blog/prekratit-massovye-ubiistva.html, accessed 4 January 2012. 54 ‘Osyoi Markazi dar Soyai Tahavvuloti Jahoni Arab’, Hizbi Nahzati Islomii Tojikiston, 23 April 2011, available at: http://www.nahzat.tj/ilmu-din/siyosat/item/2725, accessed 5 September 2011. 55 Rajabi Mirzo, ‘Missiyai Seyumi Emomali Rahmon’, Faraj, 16 January 2012. 56 Quoted in Aleksandr Konstantinov, ‘Nursultan Nazarbaev Gotov Vypustit’ par’, Kommersant, 5 April 2011. 57 Roman Vassilenko, the chief spokesman for Kazakhstan’s Foreign Ministry, quoted in Andrew E. Kramer, ‘An election in Kazakhstan will offer something new: A multiparty system’, New York Times, 14 January 2012. 58 Global Barometer of Happiness for 2011, Montreal: Leger Marketing, 2011, pp.10, 20. 59 Public Opinion in Tajikistan 2010 Findings from an IFES Survey, Washington, DC: International Federation for Electoral Systems, 2010, p. 6. 60 B.K. Sultanov (ed.), Sovremennyi Kazakhstan: Obshchestvennoe Mnenie, Almaty: KISI, 2011, pp. 146–7. 61 Abdugani Mamadazimov, ‘God Stremleniia k Svobode, ili Predopredelena li Svoboda Geneticheski?’, Asia-Plus, 22 December 2011.

CHAPTER 7

Pakistan and the Arab Uprisings Samina Yasmeen

Pakistan’s identification with the Middle East predates its creation in August 1947. Embedded in a host of religious, cultural, literary and societal relationships, the Middle East had remained a significant reference point for Muslims in the subcontinent. Developments in the region often shaped debates in the subcontinent, but also engaged Muslims in the subcontinent as participants in processes of identity formation in the Middle East – a process exemplified in the Khilafat Movement (1919–24). Once created, the nascent state of Pakistan closely identified itself as both a part of the Middle East and, by virtue of the geographical location of its eastern wing, as a Southeast Asian state. The secession of East Pakistan as Bangladesh in December 1971 shifted this dual geographical identity in favour of a heightened focus on and identification of Pakistan with its western neighbours. Pakistan came increasingly to identify itself as being on the eastern end of the Middle East.1 A series of economic, social and cultural relationships between Pakistan and the countries of the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) followed this self-identification. Pakistan provided skilled and unskilled workforces for the region, the latter with growing wealth in the wake of the oil embargo of 1973. In the 1970s, the total value of remittances from the Middle East accounted for 53.4 per cent of the total amounts sent by workers overseas back to Pakistan. This was equivalent to approximately 2 per cent of Pakistan’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP). In the 1980s, these remittances increased to 69.8 per cent, accounting for 5.6 per cent of the country’s GDP.2 Pakistan established close defence links with the Middle Eastern states, specifically Saudi Arabia. In the 1970s and 1980s, reportedly 15,000 Pakistani soldiers were stationed in Saudi Arabia, helping build defence infrastructure and training a number of Saudi defence personnel in Pakistani military institutions.3

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The web of relationships developed since the early 1970s have both validated Pakistan’s claims as a Middle Eastern state – even if a peripheral one – and made it susceptible to geopolitical shifts in the region. The Gulf Crisis of 1990–1 highlighted these susceptibilities: the Pakistan government had to repatriate stranded workers in the region while facing the danger of losing their remittances from those working in Kuwait and Iraq. The possibility of Pakistan nearing bankruptcy due to the dual danger of increased oil prices and reduced remittances shaped the context in which the government of Nawaz Sharif formed its response to the crisis in the Gulf region.4 Subsequent Pakistani governments, whether democratically elected or authoritarian in nature, have also consistently been constrained or impacted upon by the developments west of the country. The process has been paralleled by an increase in societal interaction: the transfer of migrant workers and professionals to the Middle East has introduced Pakistani traditions in the host states. However, the societal interaction has also contributed to cultural and religious influences in Pakistan that are increasingly being identified as the ‘Arabization of Pakistan’.5 Against the backdrop of these interdependencies between Pakistan and other more mainstream Middle Eastern states, there are now questions about the likely implications from the Arab uprisings for the second most populous Muslim state. This chapter explores these implications of the Arab uprisings with reference to the prospects for democratization in Pakistan. It asks the question: will the gradual eastwardly wave of the Arab uprisings reach Pakistan or not and could Pakistan experience the same process of masses rising up or awakening witnessed in the Middle East? This question is answered with reference to the diverse readings of, and reactions to, the wave of democratization in MENA. The chapter argues that the Arab uprisings have been understood in different ways in Pakistan that makes a relatively united uprising unlikely. Instead, Pakistan is more likely to witness a situation where localized and disunited cohorts of elites would use the symbolism or messages of the Arab uprisings to serve their own interests.



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The Arab Uprisings and Pakistan Pakistani analysis of the dynamics underpinning the Arab uprisings and their meaning for the country has been marked by a diversity of opinion. The swift and unprecedented regime changes in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya and other Middle Eastern states have been interpreted and used in different ways by analysts and political groups/parties in the country. The coverage in newspapers and by television networks, as well as the statements given by political leaders in different venues, provide an insight into this diversity of opinions and approaches. The crux of the debate centres round the possibility of the Arab uprisings extending to Pakistan. The argument that Pakistan is likely to be a candidate for revolution is paralleled by the view that contests the possibility of an Arab uprising – like revolution in the country. Those who contest that the Arab uprisings will also reach Pakistan base their arguments on an analysis of Pakistan’s democratic experience, and the difference in the conditions that led to the revolutions in the Arab neighbourhood.6 In their opinion, although the country has been ruled by the military on and off for many years, and the democratic phases have not been without their problems, Pakistan has already experienced a phenomenon akin to the Arab uprisings. The period of this experience varies with analysts, with some dating it back to the ouster of President Ayub Khan in 1969, while others refer to the successful Lawyers Movement of 2007 that took a stand against President Pervez Musharraf ’s dismissal of the Supreme Court’s Chief Justice, Iftikhar Choudhury. That the movement galvanized support among ordinary citizens and the media alike is presented as evidence that the Pakistani masses have already shown evidence of their ability to use democratic processes to effect changes. Others refer to the judicial activism and the growing role of the media as indicative of the existence of democracy – albeit riddled with problems – that places Pakistan in an essentially different category from the Arab states. In other words, these arguments acknowledge the weaknesses of the democratic experience and the presence of authoritarianism in Pakistan, but highlight the fact that democracy does exist in Pakistan. The availability of space to express ideas, views and disillusionments renders the Pakistani situation different from the one that existed in countries such as Tunisia, Egypt and Libya. Hence, assuming that the latters’ experiences would impact

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on Pakistan fails to appreciate the inherent differences in the democratic history and experiences of Pakistan and the Arab states, the latter having been predominantly under autocratic rule. A particular view of the causal factors leading to the revolutions in Arab states also underpins the argument that Pakistan would not follow suit. It is argued that rule by individuals spanning generations (for example, in Egypt, Libya and Tunisia) forced citizens to join in a project of removing them from power. Political groups harnessed this frustration, particularly a unified Islamist political force of the Ikhwan (Muslim Brotherhood) in Egypt. In contrast, no single party has managed to stay in power in Pakistan for long enough a period for its citizens to be ‘intolerably hated’.7 An implicit alliance between the weak political leadership and the dominant military has created a ‘semblance of representative dispensation’ characterized by a ‘rotation of multiparty systems interrupted by military rule’.8 This, in turn, has kept the lid on the level of anger and frustration with the ruling regimes in Pakistan. At the same time, the absence of a unified political Islamist force in the country has also prevented Pakistanis from being led into a revolution along the lines witnessed since the Jasmine Revolution in Tunisia. Some also question if there is sufficient hunger for revolution in Pakistan. They use the example of 23-year-old Raja Khan, who chose to immolate himself in front of the Pakistani Parliament in Islamabad. He had been frustrated with his inability to secure employment for himself or his wife, and with the responsibility of two children, had informed his wife of his plans to set himself alight.9 Unlike in Tunisia, where selfimmolation by Mohammed Bouazizi in December 2010 triggered the Jasmine Revolution and resulted in Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali’s ouster from power, Khan’s self-immolation failed to attract much attention. With the annual suicide rates in Pakistan increasing, it was treated as a common occurrence not worthy of igniting a revolution. Hence, the argument goes, the processes for Pakistan would continue to be different from those followed by its western neighbours. An alternative view entertains the possibility of Pakistan experiencing its own ‘Spring’ and some form of revolution. This view has emerged against the backdrop of a combination of factors including accelerating population growth rates, a youth bulge, low economic growth rates and an increasing incidence of poverty in Pakistan. According to UN estimates, Pakistan’s population in 2010 stood at 173.6 million.10



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Significantly, 80.8 million or 47 per cent of the total population is under 20 years of age.11 With a population growth rate of 2 per cent, Pakistan has the highest fertility rate in South Asia and the second highest in the Muslim world. Its total population is expected to grow to 220.6 million by 2025. Although the UN forecast, with a median increase, suggests that the number of youths under 20 years would decline to 39.9 per cent of the total population, Pakistan would still need to deal with a youth bulge consisting of nearly 86 million in 2025. It may be argued that population growth per se is not an issue: other South Asian states also share this demographic feature. With 40 per cent of the population under 20 years of age in 2010, the Indian example indicates that, when combined with high growth rates, an increase in population could increase the pool of human resources with positive impact on development. In the case of Pakistan, the problem of a youth bulge is compounded due to the sluggish rates of economic growth. During the first decade of the new millennium, Pakistan had experienced higher growth rates ranging from 4.7 per cent in 2002–3 to 9 per cent in 2004–5. But since 2007, with the increasing energy shortage and growing militancy, the growth rate had slowed down to 3 per cent in 2010–11 after hitting a low of 1.7 per cent in 2008–9. The level of Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) has also declined to US$666.7 million from the period of July 2011 to April 2012, in contrast to US$1,292.9 million during the same period in 2010–11.12 The cumulative effect has been an increased incidence of poverty in Pakistan, as shown below. Estimating poverty has always been an exercise fraught with difficulties: a numerical approach to assessing the level of poverty in Pakistan, as elsewhere, has gradually been modified: simple measures such as incomes of households have given way to taking into account the capabilities acquired through income levels. Building on an idea introduced by Amartya Sen that the relevance of income is linked to the capabilities it provides to individuals for meeting vital needs of life and functioning, Pakistani analysts have accepted the need to take into account the capabilities factor in analysing the incidence of poverty. There is also a growing recognition that poverty is ‘a contextually conditioned concept’ that cannot be viewed purely in numbers.13 However, arriving at credible estimates of poverty incidence in Pakistan has been rendered difficult due to the absence of regular gathering of data through national censuses. Apart from the data gathered through the census in 1998 and

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alternative data-gathering mechanisms used to assess the economic situation in Pakistan, data does not exist which could secure a unanimous agreement on the nature and incidence of poverty. Controversies emerge that question the level of poverty based on political or academic grounds. Nonetheless, the Pakistan Social and Living Standard Measurement Survey suggests that the incidence of poverty in Pakistan has declined in the first decade of the new millennium to 17.15 per cent, with 20.6 per cent and 10.1 per cent of people living in poverty in rural and urban areas respectively.14 However, anecdotal evidence and the growing frustration among people who are losing jobs due to shortages of electricity and gas supplies provide an insight into the effects of poverty in the country. Unable to meet the daily needs of households, parents from lower economic strata are known to sell their children, or even to kill them. Others opt for ending their own lives: although Islam prohibits suicide, the suicide rate rose to 7,000 per year in 2008 from a few hundred in the pre-1990s.15 The increased urbanization and movement of population from rural to urban centres has contributed to this phenomenon among the poorer classes. Hence, urban poverty is becoming a serious issue in the country with Homeless International claiming that 48 per cent of Pakistan’s urban population lives in slums. Hidden in these numbers, furthermore, are the commonly known hardships and poverty experienced by not just the poor in urban settings but also by those belonging to the middle class. The total size of the middle class in Pakistan is contested: while some place it at 60 per cent of the total population, others argue that Pakistan’s middle class could not exceed more than 35 per cent of the population.16 Built into this contestation is a shifting value assigned to household incomes; while in the past someone earning Rs 40,000 could be included in the middle class, with the continuing rise in inflation rates, such levels of income are not sufficient even to meet the basic needs of an average family. But even those who earn an average of Rs 100,000 per month (around US$1,060) are finding it difficult to meet their basic needs. For them, the problem is closely associated with societal norms and expectations governing the middle class. They are expected to maintain what is often referred to as a ‘normal standard of living’ and are assumed to have the capacity to meet their basic needs despite the continuously increasing cost of living. Burdened by these assumptions and expectations, unlike the lower



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economic classes, those in the middle classes are unable to seek financial help from others. Aside from being in the grip of an increased incidence of poverty, the rural communities are also dealing with the effects of the floods of 2010 and 2011. Despite the aid provided during the 2011 floods, a number of those affected are still languishing in less than satisfactory conditions. Poverty has also directly impacted on the food security situation in Pakistan. The UN Millennium Development Goals Report 2012 has drawn attention to a drastic increase in the proportion of Pakistani population falling below the minimum acceptable level of dietary consumption.17 The report also argued that ‘Pakistan was lagging behind the target of eradicating extreme poverty and hunger and indicators show that the target would not be achieved by 2015, the deadline for achieving MDG’.18 This dismal picture coexists with stark income inequalities in Pakistan. Such inequalities are not a new phenomenon in the country: for a large part of its history, Pakistan has been known for a small, extremely rich class juxtaposed with the masses living in varying levels of poverty. However, these inequalities are becoming sharper in the unstable economic conditions. The Millennium Development Goals Report 2012 claims that ‘the share of consumption [in Pakistan] of the lowest quintile is currently 9.6 per cent against 40.3 per cent for the highest quintile’.19 Corruption plays a major role in sustaining this inequality. Pakistan is ranked 134 out of 183 countries by Transparency International on the corruption perception index in 2011. In comparison, Egypt ranked 112th and Libya was 168th. The incidence of corruption is not restricted to a single institution, individual or economic class: it extends across societal and institutional boundaries and even engulfs the judicial structures. A recent example of this phenomenon has been the allegation that a business tycoon, Malik Riaz, had spent equivalent to US$3.2 million on the Supreme Court Chief Justice’s son, Arsalan Iftikhar, with the implied intention of influencing the judiciary.20 The military has also been involved in corrupt practices: these have ranged from bribing politicians during the ‘democratic era’ (1988–99) to extending appointments of serving officers, or allotting the latter land that would normally sell at exorbitant prices. The poorer classes are not immune from the curse of corruption either. At different class levels, the value of bribes changes but it has become an accepted practice for the masses as well. However,

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the extreme income inequalities in Pakistan take attention away from the widespread corruption and malpractices of the elite. The disgruntled youth and others refer to corruption at the higher echelons as a reason for changing the system. Their frustrations find expression in regular demonstrations by all sections of the society – sometimes extending to road blockades, burning of buildings and destruction of property – over energy shortages, increasing inflation and other problems. These developments guide some to suggest in Pakistan that something akin to the Arab uprisings may be a logical scenario for the country in the future. The underlying assumption is that, as in the Arab states, a combination of demographic, economic and political factors would compel the citizens to reach the tipping point at which revolution would be a possibility. The media has provided a channel for raising the possibility of a revolution in Pakistan, or at least expressing their scepticism and criticism of the ruling elite. This has taken the form of debates, articles and also comedy episodes that have reminded the elite of what has happened in the Arab states. On one television channel, for instance, a comedian impersonated President Zardari with his features resembling Colonel Gaddafi: the message was clear that the Pakistani leader could also face a fate similar to that of the Libyan leader. Polls conducted during the early stages of the Arab uprisings on websites also communicated the prevalence of a view in Pakistan that the country was likely to follow the trajectory of the Egyptian state.

Responding to the Arab Uprisings From the ouster of the Tunisian president until Mohammad Morsi’s election as the Egyptian president, Pakistani political elites adopted an ambiguous attitude towards the developments in the Middle East that ranged between supporting non-intervention to the opposite. The ruling Pakistan People’s Party (PPP), led by President Zardari, avoided supporting the international intervention in Libya. Colonel Gaddafi of Libya had been known as ‘a friend of Pakistan’, with the largest cricket stadium in Lahore named after him, and a number of Pakistani professional and semi-skilled labourers worked in Libya – primarily in the energy sector – from the 1980s. Due to this historical relationship, the Pakistani government responded to the uprising in



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Libya and the international intervention with a call for a ‘peaceful political solution to be evolved by the Libyan people themselves in the spirit of mutual accommodation and national reconciliation’.21 What could be termed as lack of interest in devising a response to the evolving situation was also apparent in Islamabad’s failure to recognize the Libyan Transitional Council. This attracted some criticism from analysts within Pakistan.22 Closer to its borders, the uprising in Bahrain elicited a slightly different response: the Sunni nexus with the Saudi Arabian regime prompted Islamabad to support suppression of Shi‘aled demonstrations. There were unconfirmed allegations that Pakistani forces were ‘providing support to the ruling family’.23 There were also reports that the ‘Pakistan Navy’s [Bahria] Foundation [was] recruiting ex-sailors to serve in the Bahrain security forces’, with the primary role of keeping dissent under control.24 While taking contradictory stands on the situation in the Middle East, the Pakistani government demonstrated its failure to appreciate the possibility of the Pakistani population following the route chosen by youth in the Arab states. This was apparent, for example, in the decision by President Zardari to fly to Dubai in late 2011 due to a suspected heart problem. This was despite the fact that the Armed Forces Institute of Cardiology (AFIC) in Islamabad is equipped with state of the art facilities to treat heart ailments – at least for those who can afford the cost. The decision was significant as cardiovascular ailments constitute 21 per cent of the non-communicable diseases in Pakistan but, despite the World Health Organization (WHO) drawing attention to the incidence,25 the government had not made efforts to develop services and policy frameworks to address the problem. That President Zardari was hastily flown overseas to access foreign health services, therefore suggested that he was out of touch with the rising frustration among the general public on the regime’s failure to address their basic needs. The PPP government’s relative indifference to developments in the Arab world has also been reflected in the priority it has assigned to ensuring that it completes its five-year term ending in February 2013. Prioritizing a claim to power without addressing the needs of citizens has resulted in the PPP engaging in a series of conflicts and tussles of power with other centres of power in the country: the military and the judiciary. It has consistently refused to reopen the cases of corruption in Swiss courts against President Zardari that had been withdrawn by

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the Musharraf regime through the National Reconciliation Order (NRO) of 2007. Designed to craft a formula for sharing power with the PPP, with the USA playing a facilitating role, the NRO had enabled Benazir Bhutto and Zardari to return to Pakistan after a period of self-exile. Following Bhutto’s assassination, the electoral success of the PPP in the elections of 2008 and his ascent to power, President Zardari had assumed that the NRO would continue. However, the Supreme Court, under the leadership of Chief Justice Choudhury, declared the NRO invalid and demanded that the Pakistan government reopen the cases. Instead of complying with the notification from the Supreme Court, the PPP regime has consistently maintained that the president enjoys immunity by virtue of his office. This refusal to reopen the Swiss cases cost the former prime minister, Yusuf Raza Gilani, his position when the Supreme Court disqualified him from holding the office after his conviction for contempt of court. The new prime minister, Raja Ashraf Pervaiz, would have faced similar pressure from the Supreme Court but the PPP has garnered support from other political allies for ‘The Contempt of Court Act 2012’, which would provide ‘blanket immunity to top government functionaries for their executive actions’, with a right to initiate disciplinary actions against a judge without fear of being accused of contempt of court.26 It may be argued that these responses are common to all democratic states that revisit legislations as the need arises. But that regime stability has been privileged at the expense of meeting the basic needs of the masses indicates a lack of focus on or appreciation of the repercussions of democratization in neighbouring Arab states. Despite the fact that the revolutions were led by the youth with a significant part played by digital media, the PPP regime has not moved to address the concerns of the youth, particularly unemployment. Instead, it has turned a blind eye to the plight of the citizens and the anger and frustration being built among the youth. As mentioned earlier, regular demonstrations and roadblocks in protest against the failure of governance have attracted little response from the government. Islamist groups in Pakistan have also adopted a less than categorical attitude towards the Arab Spring: they have not been able to capitalize on the success of Islamists in the Middle East, particularly that of the Ikhwan in Egypt. The Pakistani Islamist parties have used the symbolism of the Arab uprisings in demonstrations: banners referring to Tunisia



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and Egypt in protest rallies organized by the Islamist Jamaat-e-Islami, for example, imply that Pakistan may also witness the success of political Islam. However, theological and sectarian differences between Islamist groups have prevented them from capitalizing on any sense of frustration among the masses. The uprising in Bahrain, for example, resulted in Sunni and Shi‘i groups in Pakistan demonstrating in favour of their respective sects in Bahrain.27 The response of radical Islamist groups to the uprisings in the Middle East has been a mixed one: they have opted for the language of democracy to justify their criticism of the governmental policies. Most noticeable has been the position adopted by Jamaat ud Da’wa under the leadership of Hafiz Saeed. Although, in the past, he had strongly opposed democracy as an acceptable form of government for Muslims, the wave of democratization has prompted him to justify, for example, demonstrations against the reopening of NATO supply routes by the Pakistan government. The rallies organized by Difa-e-Pakistan Council (Defence of Pakistan Council) have been explained by its members in terms of their ‘democratic rights’ to voice criticism of governmental policies. Although there are implied references to regime changes, the DPC has not invoked the principle of democratic rights to mobilize the masses in favour of a revolution.28 Al-Qaeda, in contrast, has been more direct in using the Arab uprisings to support its agenda: although the developments in the Middle East demonstrated the sidelining of the message promoted by al-Qaeda in the past, its leader, Ayman al-Zawahiri, has issued a call to Pakistanis to rise up against the Pakistan military like their coreligionists in Tunisia and Egypt.29 Against the backdrop of these responses, Pakistan’s Tehrik-e-Insaf (PTI – Movement for Justice) led by Imran Khan, the famous cricket player, has also adopted a strategy of channelling the mounting anger and frustration among the youth in favour of a regime change through democratic means. The party has promised changes that would meet the needs of Pakistani citizens and ensure that Pakistan retrieves its standing in the international community as a respected nation. The imagery used to communicate this message has been carefully crafted: neither orthodox nor progressive messages are privileged. Instead, Imran Khan has been careful to engage youth from all walks of life with the promise of ensuring that Pakistan is revived along the lines

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promised by Mohammad Ali Jinnah, who secured the country’s independence from British government. At public rallies and on the party’s official website, for instance, Imran Khan’s images are placed in close proximity to those of Jinnah. However, he has been careful not to mobilize the youth for a revolution; instead, as in the case of JUD, his preference has been to secure support from a number of political and economic interest groups as well as from the wider community. The process started with PTI organizing a mass rally on 30 October 2011 in Lahore, where the resolution for creating Pakistan was passed on 23 March 1940. This symbolized a new beginning for Pakistan with an implied continuation of historical tradition. Since then, PTI has held a series of public rallies across the country with participation from both men and women. These rallies secured support from established politicians, intellectuals, artists, business community members and the ordinary masses, thus communicating the growing appeal of PTI – and by implication, Imran Khan – in contemporary Pakistan. They also provided a venue for Imran Khan declaring his opposition to the US drone attacks on militants in Pakistan, and the Pakistani government’s alliance with the United States. The combination of self-portrayal as the saviour of Pakistan and as a critic of its current foreign policy has earned Khan increasing support among the masses. Polls conducted by the International Republican Institute in February and March 2012 suggested that PTI was leading at the national level vis-à-vis established political parties. With the exception of the province of Sindh, this level of support was replicated at provincial levels where PTI is preferred over the established parties.30 The results of the Pew Global Attitudes Project also indicated a favourable opinion of Imran Khan among seven out of ten Pakistanis – an increase of 18 per cent over the last two years.31 Though the IRI Polls in November 2012 suggested that PTI’s popularity had declined to 18 per cent,32 the party continues to enjoy the strongest support among the youth and reflects a complementarity of views against US drone attacks in Pakistan as well as growing concern about corruption and lawlessness in the country. But the question arises as to whether this apparent popular support for PTI could translate into a revolution in Pakistan.



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An Arab Spring in Pakistan? The uprisings in the Arab states succeeded in overthrowing established regimes in a matter of days and weeks due to an apparent convergence of interests and priorities of different groups. Although the secular and religious groups retained their interest in ultimately guiding the direction of the revolutions, the initial phases were marked by willingness to transcend ideological divides in favour of the need for regime change. A similar situation does not exist in Pakistan: the country is experiencing growing fragmentation along ideological, religious, political and economic lines. The Islamist policies introduced during the Ziaul-Haq era have resulted in the emergence of Islamist groups (political parties and groups) that insist on the country adopting a strong religious identity. Groups that have subscribed to more liberal and progressive ideas of Pakistani identity question this demand and argue for a state where religion does not occupy a dominant position. Radical Islam has meanwhile grown in its appeal: the presence of al-Qaeda, Tehrike-Taliban Pakistan and Hizb ut-Tahrir have succeeded in securing the allegiance of a sufficient number of Pakistanis to radical Islamism to pose a threat to the country’s security. Although the perception of the severity of this threat has declined,33 these radical groups have not shelved their agenda of implementing sharia in areas under their control. In the northwestern region of Pakistan, for instance, they have continued to provide a Salafi reading of Islam, and have targeted Shi‘a as heretics. The political fragmentation in Pakistan adds another element of complexity. At the institutional level, this has been reflected in the tussle between the executive, the military and the judiciary for power and control of the direction in which the country needs to proceed. Intra-institutional fragmentation is meanwhile evident in, for example, the significant role of intelligence agencies in the country’s domestic and foreign policies. This, in turn, has opened up parallel and sometimes conflicting channels of operation being followed by different sections of the government. The Memogate scandal involving the former Pakistani ambassador to the United States, Husain Haqqani, is an example of the phenomenon.34 The fragmentation also extends to frequently shifting allegiances among the politicians with a view to gaining maximum benefits for themselves. Although by no means unique to Pakistan, the

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phenomenon against the backdrop of prevalent corruption creates volatility in the political space with continuous uncertainty about the country’s future. Ethnic and sectarian differences are adding to the problem with some groups demanding an independent Baluchistan, while others are criticizing Pakistani government in the Gilgit–Baltistan regions. Meanwhile, the incidence of lawlessness has been on the rise in Pakistan. Increasingly frequent kidnappings across the country (until a few years ago, almost entirely restricted to relatively remote and tribal areas) with demands for ransom, robberies and target killings both reflect and contribute to the lawlessness. Political and radical groups use those engaged in kidnappings and target killings for their respective agendas across the country, as do ethnic groups demanding greater autonomy, or in some cases, secession. In Baluchistan, for instance, while secessionist groups control pockets of the province (including Turbat and Panjgor), the land mafia, smugglers and kidnappers control other areas in the province. This results in local elites often identifying the areas ‘under their control’ and intimating the limits of their power in other areas, while at the same time also using kidnappers and smugglers to support their control. Given these layers of fragmentation, and the multidirectional linkages between different centres of state and societal nodes of power, it may be argued that Pakistan is unlikely to experience its own Arab uprisings. In fact, the rather indifferent attitude of the regime, combined with mixed approaches to the wave of democratization by established political interests, are merely a reflection of the inability of different centres of power and ideas to share a joint political agenda – no matter how temporary in nature. Instead, the preference for all interested groups is to carve out their own areas of influence with claim to some power in the system without willingness to co-operate for regime change. Already, a situation has emerged in which political groups and parties have established their strongholds in different parts of the country and, as evident in Karachi, in different sections of a city as well. Despite his apparent growing popularity, Imran Khan and his party, PTI, are unlikely to alter the situation. The PTI has been promising to revolutionize Pakistan through electoral politics. But, in the process, it has claimed to bring about changes that cannot be logically delivered in a society suffering from years of mismanagement and instability. The failure to



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deliver on these promises, even if the PTI succeeds in coming to power, will further contribute to disillusionment among the masses. It could also prompt political leaders who are joining the PTI to desert the movement in order to retain their own power bases, thus further contributing to fragmentation. The fragmentation, therefore, is more likely to result in mini localized revolutions or semi-revolutions led and controlled by different interest groups rather than a unified revolutionary effort to change the system in Pakistan. Karachi, for example, is already experiencing localized revolution in areas under the control of the Muttahida Qaumi Movement (MQM). Other areas are being controlled by Pashtuns who remain defiant against any suggestions of Karachi being a city for the Mohajirs from India only. This is in marked contrast to the situation in the interior province Sindh where Sindhis assert their claims to leadership. In Punjab, at the same time, the Pakistan Muslim League (PML-N), led by Nawaz Sharif, claims to be representing the wishes of the Punjabi majority with an ability to meet their needs. These localized centres of power and the likelihood of localized mini revolutions raise the question of the responsibility of external powers vis-à-vis Pakistan. It may be argued that external powers, particularly the United States, need to clearly rethink their attitude towards Pakistan. They have moved between aligning with and maligning Pakistan: either Pakistan is identified as the front-line state or is criticized for its failure on issues of nuclear proliferation, counter-terrorism and democracy. At the same time, they move between supporting quasi-democratic governments or quasi-dictatorships in Pakistan. These attitudes underpin their policies towards Pakistan while contributing to the malaise Pakistan is experiencing. This is not to suggest that external powers have the primary responsibility for shaping the future of democratization in Pakistan. However, given the increasing fragmentation along different lines, it is essential that external powers focus on directing their support and encouragement to areas that directly contribute to meeting the basic needs of the citizens, especially the need for justice and protection of human rights. This in turn requires greater focus on supporting judicial reforms and delivery of training programmes that enable the judiciary to play a balanced and active role in the society. For the foreseeable time, this presents a better route to avoiding localized mini-revolutions in Pakistan.

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Notes See S.M. Burke and Lawrence Ziring, Pakistan’s Foreign Policy: An Historical Analysis, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990. 2 Iqbal Zafar and Abdus Sattar, The Contribution of Workers’ Remittances to Economic Growth in Pakistan, Islamabad: Pakistan Institute of Development Economics, 2005, pp. 4–5. 3 ‘Pakistan-Saudi Arabia relations’, Pakistan Defence, 2012. 4 Piyasiri Wickramasekara (ed.), The Gulf Crisis and South Asia: Studies on the Economic Impact, Geneva: International Labour Office, 1993, pp. 7–8, and Samina Yasmeen, The Implications of the Gulf Crisis for South Asia, Perth: Indian Ocean Centre for Peace Studies, 1991. 5 Suleman Akhtar, ‘Arabization of Pakistan: Bringing the desert home’, The Verdict, 26 August 2011, available at: http://blogs.tribune.com.pk/story/7663/arabization-ofpakistan-bringing-the-desert-home, accessed 25 May 2012. 6 Arif Ansar, ‘The future of Pakistan: Implications of the Arab Spring and death of Osama bin Laden’, available at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cks8Z_mtbnY: 2011, accessed 28 May 2012. 7 M. Saeed Khalid, ‘Our spring is far behind’, The News, 31 May 2012. 8 Ibid. 9 Suzanna Koster, ‘Has Pakistan missed its “Arab Spring” moment?’, Global Post, 9 November 2011, available at: http://www.crescentpost.com/2011/11/global-post-didpakistan-miss-its-arab-spring-moment, accessed 7 July 2012. 10 UN Population Division, World Urbanization Prospects: The 2011 Revision, New York: UN Department of Economic and Social Affairs, 2012. 11 UN Population Division, ‘Pakistan population by five-year age group and sex (thousands) medium variant 2000–2025’, available at: http://esa.un.org/unpd/wpp/ index.htm, accessed 23 July 2012. 12 Imtiaz Ahmad, Pakistan Economic Survey 2011–12: Growth and Stabilization, Islamabad: Government of Pakistan, 2012, p. 13. 13 S.M. Naseem, ‘A review of studies on poverty in Pakistan: Origin, evolution, thematic content and future directions’, in R. Amjad (ed.), History of PIDE Series, Islamabad: Pakistan Institute of Development Economics, 2012, p. 9. 14 Naseem: ‘A review of studies on poverty in Pakistan’, p. 9. 15 Michael Maurice Engelgau et al., Capitalizing of the Demographic Transition: Tackling Noncommunicable Diseases in South Asia, Washington, DC: The World Bank, 2011, p. 41, available at http://econ.worldbank.org, accessed 4 November 2012. 16 Safiya Aftab, ‘Who is middle class?’, The Friday Times 24(4) (9–15 March 2012). 17 ‘More Pakistanis fall below acceptable dietary line: UN’, The Dawn, 5 July 2012. 18 Ibid. 19 Ibid. 20 ‘Pakistan’s gun-slinging chief justice faces backlash’, Daily Times, 25 June 2012. 21 Tayyab Siddiqui, ‘Endgame in Libya’, The News, 19 May 2011. 22 Javed Hafiz, ‘Pakistan and the Middle East’, The Nation, 3 January 2012. 23 Nazir Naji, ‘Point break’, Pakistan Times, 16 June 2011. 1

24 25 26 27 28 29 30

31 32

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Abbas Nasir, ‘The search for good news’, Dawn, 25 June 2011. Engelgau et al., ‘Capitalizing of the demographic transition’. Syed Irfan Raza, ‘Allies agree to support four new bills’, Dawn, 7 July 2012. Amir Rana, ‘The Pakistani spring’, Dawn, 3 June 2012. ‘Al Jazeera exclusive with Hafiz Saeed’, Al-Jazeera, 3 April 2012, available at: http://www. aljazeera.com/news/asia/2012/04/20124314501346522.html, accessed 24 July 2012. Mohammad Jamil, ‘Al Qaeda’s desperate move’, The Frontier Post, 16 June 2012. Shahid Abbasi, ‘PTI tops Pakistan political parties’ popuarity graph: IRI poll’, Pakistan Today, 6 May 2012, available at: http://www.pakistantoday.com.pk/2012/05/06/city/ lahore/pti-tops-pakistan-political-parties%E2%80%99-popularity-graph-iri-poll, accessed 6 May 2012. ‘Pew survey declares Imran Khan most popular leader’, Daily Times, 2 July 2012. Zeeshan Ahmad, ‘IRI survey: PML-N’s popularity on the rise’, The Express Tribune, 28 January 2013, available at: http://tribune.com.pk/story/499599/iri-survey-pml-nspopularity-on-the-rise/?print=true, accessed 2 February 2013. Pew Global Attitudes Project, Pakistani Public Opinion Ever More Critical of U.S, Washington, DC: Pew Research Centre, 2012. Rob Crilly, ‘Memogate: Pakistani probe concludes ex-US envoy Husain Haqqani drafted memo’, Telegraph, 12 June 2012.

CHAPTER 8

China’s Responses to the Arab Uprisings Baogang He

The Chinese government has been under increasing pressure from three distinct waves of democratization (not to be confused with Samuel Huntington’s three waves). The first wave of democratization was in Eastern Europe in the 1990s following the collapse of the Soviet Union. The second consisted of the ‘colour revolutions’ in the former Soviet Republics in 2004–5. The most recent wave is the ongoing Arab uprisings. This chapter examines Chinese responses to the Arab uprisings, both by the government and by Chinese citizens. It particularly highlights both the interplay between these various responses as well as the paradoxes that have emerged from the government’s crackdown. In order to examine the Chinese response to the Arab uprisings, it is necessary to take into account the three democratic waves together, rather than simply examining the response to the Arab uprisings in isolation. This chapter classifies Chinese responses to the Arab uprisings into four categories. The first three categories involve the government’s response and the fourth deals with the response of Chinese citizens. They are overlapping but can be distinguished conceptually. The first category is the government’s discourse response. This response involves deciding how to interpret the nature of the Arab uprisings in the official discourse. The second category is the political response. This is concerned with preventing the events of the Arab uprisings from occurring in China through a dual strategy – that is, a combination of limited political reform and the imposition of tough controls. The third category is the managerial response, which is often overlooked. The Chinese state has improved its ability to use a variety of different management systems to deal with any sudden political unrest

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or social crisis. The fourth category is the response of Chinese citizens. In the context of the government’s tough political controls and development of new systems of public management, citizen activists have had to develop their own new set of strategies. This chapter reveals a previously untold story about the crackdown in which the Chinese government has developed its own particularly ingenious neo-Foucauldian approach to policing, monitoring and controlling society. The result is not a police state; instead, new societal control mechanisms exist everywhere. The Chinese government has developed the economy of state violence in a way that efficiently and modestly makes use of coercion. At the same time, the public security apparatus has also employed softer, more friendly and ‘civilized’ ways of dealing with dissidents.

The Discursive Response It is important to locate the discourse response in terms of the recent ideological context and an official discourse on US democracy promotion in China. Beijing has been fighting against ‘peaceful evolution’ by strengthening the official ideology, for example by establishing the Academy of Marxism Studies, which enjoys equal status to the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences (CASS). The Universities of Guangzhou, Nankai, Fudan, Beijing, Renmin, Shandong, Shenzhen and Hunan have established impressive new human rights research centres. National institutes include China’s Association of Human Rights Research and China’s Human Rights Development Foundation.1 The Chinese government has also released human rights reports criticizing actions of the USA.2 A series of newspaper articles was published about the democracy-promotion interventions of the USA.3 Beijing has even adopted a new strategy of exposing the recipients of foreign funding; for example, they investigated how dissident Liu Junning received funding from Taiwan. In this way, it has attempted to destroy the reputation of dissidents. In an effort to renew Chinese official ideology, some anti-democracy groups have materialized and have become institutionalized. These ideology-based institutions have an interest in following the ideological line, but in different directions. Some of these new institutions have a



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vested interest in exaggerating the threat of foreign democracy-promotion so that they can ask for more funding. The government favours the study of Marxism when allocating research funding. The government is able to match and even exceed outside funding when it offers grants to Chinese scholars. In this way, it can co-opt Chinese scholars, silence their critical voices and reduce the influence of foreign democracy-promotion programmes and organizations. Fang Ning, director of the Political Science Institute at CASS, has played an important role in countering American democracy-promotion in China. First, he pointed out the intellectual fiction of the role of democracy in the rise of great powers. In Western modernization theory, marketization, democratization and secularization are described as mutually dependent and interactive processes; in particular, democracy is regarded as a prerequisite for economic development. Western historians have also described the establishment of democracy as a root cause of the rise of Western powers. Fang Ning has dismissed such an interpretation. He argued that the rise of Western power is a complex historical process, which included colonial plunder and even genocide. Many Western countries, such as France and Germany, have experienced multiple periods of interruption to their parliamentary democracies throughout the course of their rise. The notions of ‘democracy leading to a powerful country’, ‘democracy creating a wealthy country’ and ‘the rise of democracy’ developed by US theorists are fictitious. Secondly, Fang Ning argued clearly against American democracy promotion programmes, claiming that they did not promote Chinese democracy but rather inhibited it because of the structural conflicts of interest between China and the USA.4 It is often claimed by conspiracy believers that the USA uses democracy to prevent China from rising. In a survey in the Global Times, 59 per cent of the respondents believed that the USA is seeking to contain China, and 79 per cent hold negative views towards the USA.5 There has been an important attempt to securitize the issue of democracy-promotion programmes. In the West, democratic peace theory argues that two democracies never fight each other and that democracy is therefore an instrument to achieve security. In responding to this democratization of security, China has securitized the issue of democracy-promotion programmes. In recent years, democracy has become the top national security priority. To be precise, the public

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security authorities want to ensure that any democracy programme does not undermine national security – national security considerations override democracy.6 All political reform programmes are closely monitored by the Ministry of State Security. Political experiments tend to exclude the involvement of foreigners, while anyone who previously worked in the National Endowment for Democracy (NED) is regarded as an ‘enemy’ of China. As a result, whenever the USA is interested in any political reform experiment in China, the public security bureau has a strong sense of suspicion. When there is pressure from the United States, there is strong resistance. When democracy becomes a security issue, it is difficult to develop civil society; it creates fear among students and intellectuals. In this process, the security of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is confused with national security, resulting in many instances where the issue of national security is misused in order to delay the development of democracy. Returning to the discourse response to the Arab uprisings, the state has developed a framework in which the uprisings are framed as social unrest. According to An Huihou, a board member of the China Foundation for International Studies, it is appropriate to refer to the Arab world’s current situation as ‘Arab social and political unrest’.7 This is because there are complex reasons, multiple goals and an unclear direction behind the unrest. Under An’s interpretation, the unrest has obvious spontaneous and grassroots characteristics and there is no clear leadership or political organization. Islamic, democratic and tribal forces, along with Western great powers, especially the USA, are each trying to influence and provoke the unrest in the direction they desire. An justifies his interpretation by arguing that different states and other actors have each understood the unrest according to their own situation, interests and policies. The United States is worried that the unrest will heighten Arab anti-Americanism, so it has acted quickly using the tools of public opinion that it controls to define it as ‘Arab revolution’. Its goal is to turn unrest into democratic action, oppose dictatorship and fight for democracy. It also hopes to develop those democratic elements in favour of the West to build pro-Western governments and overthrow governments with which they have long been dissatisfied. Iran was also excited by the unrest. It initially believed that it represented Iranian-style Islamic revolution. Al-Qaeda also applauded the unrest and called for Islamic extremists



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to overthrow secular governments and construct Islamic regimes. As for Israel, an editorial in the Jerusalem Post explained that the Egyptian revolution represents ‘the greatest disaster since the Iranian revolution’. Lin Da explains and emphasizes the interplay of the international and domestic causal factors for the Arab uprisings. From Lin’s perspective, ‘flower revolutions’ (also known as the ‘colour revolutions’) have already taken on some distinct characteristics. They are currently supported by three international principles: firstly, the government must guarantee the people’s right to peaceful opposition; secondly, international society will not tolerate the violent suppression of peaceful opposition (especially following the UN Security Council’s resolution against the Libyan regime); and thirdly, the public demands that autocratic governments give way to democratic systems, the latter being seen to have greater legitimacy.8 These international principles have finally given unarmed and peaceful people an opportunity to change longstanding political regimes that have used the machinery of the state to forcibly defend autocracy. The methods of the ‘flower revolutions’ are very simple. They appear to be just peaceful opposition and the government has no reason to suppress them. However, as citizens of authoritarian countries lack channels for expression, a small shift can result in a major explosion of dissatisfaction. In addition, because following peaceful protests authoritarian countries often conduct reprisals against civic leaders, once those leaders are involved they will want to go all the way and not give up. When these conditions are combined with the international factors, the result can easily be a ‘flower revolution’.9 As China sees the Arab uprisings as being caused by a combination of internal and external factors, it prefers a non-interventionist approach. China supported UN Resolution 1970 that imposed coercive measures on the Libyan government, such as a travel ban for top officials and the international freezing of the Gaddafi regime’s assets. But Beijing rejected the Anglo-French proposal to establish an international coalition to co-ordinate intervention in Libya. It abstained on Security Council Resolution 1973, which authorized the establishment of a nofly zone in Libyan airspace. Beijing then condemned the ‘abuse of force’ by NATO-led air operations, arguing that NATO was misusing SC Resolution 1973.10 On 4 October 2011, the Chinese permanent

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representative to the UN Security Council vetoed a draft resolution on the situation in Syria11 on the grounds that it constituted a direct threat to the ‘sovereignty, independence and territorial integrity’ of the Syrian state.12 On 5 February 2012, China and Russia joined forces in a double veto to knock down a UN Security Council resolution calling for Syrian President Bashar al-Assad to step aside.13 Beijing said that it was forced into a veto and argued that the UN resolution was illegal because it aimed at a regime change in Syria.14 A senior editor of the People’s Daily published the editorial headline opinion that China is not the Middle East. The editorial claimed that while the world is currently pondering how to resolve the situation in the Middle East, there are people with ulterior motives inside and outside China who are conspiring to create a disaster in the country. From this perspective, these people are using the internet to inflame tensions in the hope that in China a ‘street politics’ will also emerge to create chaos. The author concluded that China is not the Middle East and conspiracies that try to use the chaos in the Middle East to influence China are bound to fail.15 When John McCain, a Republican Senator and former presidential candidate, argued that China cannot avoid the Arab uprisings during a high-level security conference in Munich on 6 February 2012, Zhang Zhijun, Chinese vice-foreign minister, replied that ‘there is no reason for us to upset the situation’. Zhang continued to argue that the underlying assumption is that Chinese are very rational and tired of ‘revolution’. Previous violence and chaos during the Cultural Revolution have created a sort of ‘revolution fatigue’.16 The Global Times points the finger of blame at US support for a Chinese version of the Arab uprisings. It argued that it was not purely a coincidence that Jon Huntsman, who was then the US ambassador to China, passed by the Wangfujing street where a Chinese demonstration was organized.17 The American democracy promotion programme in China is always presented as an American conspiracy to split China. In this view, the United States has a hidden plan for ‘peaceful evolution’ in China and the US democracy project aims to isolate China internationally in order to prevent a loose China–Europe alliance against the USA from emerging and consolidate American moral leadership. The democracy project had undermined the power of the former Soviet Union and today it plays a role in containing the



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rise of China. It is widely acknowledged that Bill Clinton supported Tibet, Bush supported Taiwan, and Australia supported Xinjiang’s separatism as a part of this democracy project. Beijing argues that it is able to see through the so-called human rights issue to the USA’s real objective: that is, to frame and constrain China’s sovereignty in terms of human rights, and to counter China’s economic advantage that comes from having a low human rights standard. Of course the United States denies, and many Chinese citizens do not believe, such an accusation; they argue that the democracy-promotion project is in China’s interest and does not undermine China, but instead brings its human rights to an international standard. In this view, the USA has no plan for ‘peaceful evolution’; it would be dangerous if it were to do so.18 Moreover, the reproduction of the conspiracy theory often becomes an excuse for not carrying out the political reform that is required in China.19 Yu Shiyu, a writer now living in North America, argues that the current wave of Arab democracy is certainly not a ‘colour revolution’ planned by the European and American governments, because it was initially contrary to the fundamental interests of the Western world. Of course, ‘conspiracy theorists’ will say that this is a European and American political game, but one can see that the biggest loser in the Arab democratic wave is Israel. As far as Beijing is concerned, it is better to learn the real lesson of the Arab chaos: the masses’ hatred of the security forces and of elite corruption.20

The Political Response: Limited Reform and Tightening Control The Chinese government has employed a dual strategy. On one hand, the government continues to introduce limited political reform to address the source of the kinds of problems that might lead to a Chinese version of the Arab uprisings. On the other hand, it exercises strict political control in order to suppress any dissidents who call for a ‘revolution’. The government arrests individuals who could act as either organizers or opinion leaders for such a movement, sometimes by charging them with non-political crimes such as tax evasion – for example, in the case of Ai Weiwei.21

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Limited Political Reforms Edward Steinfeld argues that ‘it would be wrong to read the current crackdown as a sign of stasis or regression.’ He offers convincing evidence such as the pluralization of actors and institutions and the coexistence of ‘profound change and harsh repression’ in China, backed by a comparative perspective.22 Steinfeld is correct in the sense that some political reforms are still evolving. Experiments in the public nomination and election of Party secretaries and higher officers at the town, township and city levels were under way in more than a dozen provinces in the first half of 2011. In the coastal province of Zhejiang, participatory budgeting was introduced in Xinhe and Zeguo townships in 2005, extended to eight neighbouring townships in 2009, to 79 more in 2010, and to the city level in Wenling in 2011. Despite tightening its authoritarian control after 1989, the Chinese government introduced a wide variety of local mini-democratization practices, including village elections,23 township elections,24 intra-party democracy,25 participatory budgeting,26 and participatory and deliberative forums that enable citizens to meet with government officials and express their voice on local affairs.27 In 2004, the total number of such forums at the village level was estimated at 453,000 – considerably more than the government’s estimated number of protests (74,000) for that year. While these reforms do not jeopardize the Party’s domination, they are helping to define the characteristics of future Chinese democratization. Despite the lack of general elections for national leaders, the CCP and Chinese government have enjoyed a high level of legitimacy, at least in terms of public support for the current political system and the central government. Teresa Wright cites the 2001 World Values Survey, which found that 97 per cent of respondents had either ‘quite a lot’ or ‘a great deal’ of confidence in the national government and 98 per cent had confidence in the CCP. She also cites an East Asian Barometer survey from 2002 that reported that 88.5 per cent of Chinese citizens were either ‘quite satisfied’ or ‘very satisfied’ with the ‘way democracy is developing’ in their country, and noted that the 2001 World Values Survey found that 67 per cent of respondents stated they were ‘satisfied’ or ‘very satisfied’ with the ‘way democracy is working’ in China.28 The limited reform and high level of people’s satisfaction and trust in government seems incongruous in the context of the tight control that has



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been enforced during the recent crackdown. These contradictions seem to have proliferated and continued for quite some time. They create a great deal of confusion among some Western observers and commentators. To address this confusion, we need the intellectual honesty and integrity to combat some of our own old images and frameworks that do not fit contemporary Chinese reality. Of course, local political reform is treated as a low priority. Although there have been many innovations, and some internationally supported programmes are still running in China, democracy programmes are not seen as urgent. They are not ‘must-do tasks’ from above and so local leaders can live without them. It is only those leaders who are ambitious and have faith in democracy who will introduce some innovative programmes. There are no career prospects for graduates working in the field of democracy. The pattern is that Chinese graduate students often write their theses on various aspects of democracy, but then have to find other jobs and give up their pursuit of democratic development in China once they begin their careers. This is very different from the USA, where many graduates can find jobs in democracy-related fields in government, non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and the media. Internal debate concerning political reforms has continued amid the repression, but to little effect. Premier Wen Jiabao has made public statements in favour of reforms, and Yu Keping, a pro-reform scholar and official, has floated the concept of co-governance, which involves both government and civil society. Paraphrasing an ancient observation on the rise and fall of the Qin Dynasty, Hua Binxiao argues: The governments of Eastern Europe toppled themselves, it was not the forces of democracy; the Soviet Union caused itself to collapse, it was not the ‘free world’. The people of the Soviet Union had no time for self-pity, only the Chinese pity them; but if Chinese only pity and do not reflect then it is inevitable that later generations will pity the Chinese!29 But these discussions gain little traction outside the confines of the Party; even the phrase ‘civil society’ has been banned by propaganda officials, making it clear that the concerns of the security apparatus trump reformist ideas.

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Tightening Control Despite Steinfeld’s optimism, the crackdown can and should be seen as a kind of institutional rollback in several ways. Rather than expanding consultation and deliberation practices nation-wide, the government has primarily relied on control and suppression to maintain political stability. In China, political relaxation typically is followed by tighter control, which is then followed by a new period of relaxation, in an ongoing cycle. In the period since 2008, however, there has been no relaxation, only a period of control followed by even tighter control. The source of this situation is the impending leadership change in November 2012 and the need to ensure a smooth transition of power. The continuation of this worrisome trend over a number of years suggests that the crackdown is not simply a response to the threat of a revolution like those in the Middle East. Controlling society and maintaining stability are the Chinese government’s major tasks, and inevitably raise the issue of state violence. Beijing is still learning how to use violence in a more selective and constructive way and how to maintain order without resorting to dramatic acts of coercion. While the leadership tries to find new governance methods through consultative and deliberative forums, participatory budgeting and limited elections, it largely relies on the public-security system to govern through fear. Nevertheless, public security officers have developed a form of soft control that includes more ‘civilized’ methods of dealing with political dissidents. They often invite dissidents to ‘have a cup of tea’ or even to ‘have dinner’, politely asking for more information on their activities and movements. Xi Jinping, currently the president of the PRC, and then the Chinese vice-president and the expected successor to President Hu Jintao in 2012, was the head of social stability maintenance at the central government level. Xi has criticized the United States’ democracy promotion and intervention outlook. During his visit to Mexico on 11 February 2009, Xi gave a speech to local overseas Chinese. His address included a passage that harshly criticized foreign intervention, which is unusual in Chinese diplomacy. He warned that: ‘There are a few foreigners, with full stomachs, who have nothing better to do than try to be backseat drivers of our country’s own affairs. China does not, first, export revolution; second, export poverty and hunger; and third, cause unnecessary trouble



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for you. What else is there to say?’30 Xi’s speech in Mexico sent a strong message to the USA that if it continued in this manner, China would then interfere in the American backyard. Similarly the former Party secretary of Guangdong province, Zhang Dejiang, gave a talk to some members of CASS, warning against ‘outsiders’ intervention from Hong Kong’.

The Managerial Response The tightening of control reflects the social unrest attending China’s rising power. There have been roughly 80,000 protests per year since 2005. The government has responded according to its traditional methods: asserting the power of the administration and deploying the security apparatus. The Chinese state has improved its ability to use a variety of different management systems to deal with any sudden political unrest or social crisis. The CCP’s power in the overall management system has been strengthened. The government has established a system of ‘stability preservation management’ (‘weiwen guanli’), which has involved all levels of government setting up specialized units dedicated to maintaining social and political stability. The Wei Wen Ban (Offices of the Maintenance of Social Stability) have become powerful political institutions that have led the charge. Each level of government appoints a secretary to head its Wei Wen Ban. The heads of public security organs are now appointed to Party standing committees, indicating an organizational shift that gives greater power to the security apparatus. New control mechanisms have tightened bureaucratic procedures and made much harder formerly routine matters, such as organizing university conferences on Chinese political issues. The public-security system penetrates deeply into the intellectual community; scholars worry that their colleagues might be agents of the authorities, and, through this fear, the government attempts to control collective action. The frequency with which such methods are used confounds the Western expectation that economic development will lead to political liberalization. Shehui guanli (societal management) is a new term that has also been discussed recently. In 2011, Hu Jintao stressed the need for the CCP to improve its management in this area. One important aspect of

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this societal management has been the process of the grid management system (wanggehua guanli). The grid refers to the dividing up of district administration into a number of units for the grassroots-level political management of society. By strengthening the investigative abilities of each unit of the grid, this approach is designed to build a system of monitoring and punishment. The government views this system as advantageous in that it strengthens its speed and skill in municipal management, by allowing it actively to uncover and manage problems in a timely manner so that problems can be resolved before residents complain.31 The grid management system involves gathering information on all households and storing it on a networked computer database. Junior local government employees are responsible for 100–200 local households and gather information on residents, such as their family details, income and health status, and enter it on the electronic database and ensure that the records are up to date. This system means that every household is the responsibility of a specific official, so when information is missing from the database the family will receive a phone call from a government employee to update their details. Developed in the late 1990s in Shanghai, around the same time that deliberative public hearings were being trialled, the use of grid management systems has since spread to neighbouring coastal provinces, Xinjiang and Beijing. Grid management systems allow the government to trace individuals effectively and can be used for a number of different purposes. For example, when someone attempts to petition the authorities, it is possible to locate that person’s household and closely monitor that person or their family. This kind of grid management system could be conceptualized as a revival of the Chinese traditional baojia system, or neo-totalitarianism, or Bentham’s Panopticon, or a Foucauldian police system. However, the current Chinese system also provides social welfare and other services to households. For example, the network makes it much easier for governments to identify which families require extra health services or financial support. Still, Chinese state power, particularly in the form of CCP organizations, penetrates into all villages, street-level governments, neighbourhoods, factories and every part of individual life. One key element of societal management is the management and control of NGOs. While the authorities allow them to operate when they aid local governments, they will not let NGOs go unchecked. The



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authorities monitor and control NGO websites and online activities. Therefore, Chinese NGOs attempt to avoid politically sensitive issues. The conventional democracy-promotion areas include civil society, opposition parties and elections. In the past, US$10 million helped facilitate regime change in Poland and US$40 million was enough to bring down Slobodan Milosevic. It has been asserted that the USA spent about US$40 million from November 2004 to January 2005 to support the Orange Revolution in Ukraine. Such aid was celebrated as a success, but it caused a global backlash that led to the suspension, delay and revision, and even rejection of many democracy projects in a number of countries. Furthermore, Finkel, Perez-Linan and Seligson argue that there is no evaluation of which kinds of civil society programmes work better than others; and Jeffrey Kopstein argues that the USA was successful in supporting NGOs but failed to strengthen state institutions. The record of civil society promotion grants in China is impressive. The European Union wanted to provide €500 million to fund civil society in China. While the Ministry of Commerce attempted to accept it, the Ministry of Civil Affairs turned down the funding. China has developed substantial arguments against NGOs’ democracy promotion programmes. Firstly, it is argued that despite the fact that the NED is called an ‘NGO’ and its website is ‘.org’, its funding comes from the US Congress. This is organizational hypocrisy. The Charter of the NED does not support the US government, but its grantees do support governments. Secondly, Beijing claimed it was being treated unfairly by specific democracy promotion programmes. The NED and Heritage Foundation have supported several NGOs working on the politically sensitive regions of Tibet and Xinjiang.32 China’s suppression of these NGOs is accused of being a ‘violation of human rights’, but these NGOs are supported in the first instance by the US government. Thirdly, if civil society is not completely autonomous if it depends on the Chinese government, then it cannot be regarded as autonomous if its funding comes from the NED, and ultimately from the US government. International top-down mechanisms are similar to the Chinese government’s top-down process. Often, NGOs that are supported by foreign governments lack grass-roots connections. As part of its managerial response, the government has also developed emergency management (yingji guanli) systems. In 2006, it introduced a ‘National Sudden Public Incident Overall Emergency Plan’, and in 2007

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passed the ‘People’s Republic of China Sudden Incident Response Law’. The government is particularly concerned with speeding up its response time and tries to ensure that certain official actions are taken within hours, minutes or even seconds of the authorities being made aware of an emergency event. The final important component of the managerial response consists of the government’s systems for managing the internet (wangluo guanli). Several government agencies are responsible for managing and regulating aspects of online activity, including the Ministry of Culture, Ministry of Education, General Administration of Press and Publications, and the State Administration of Radio, Film, and Television. A complex system of technical controls is also used to manage what online material can be accessed by the public. A new government body called the State Internet Information Office was set up in May 2011 to regulate online communication. One important but difficult task facing this management system has been to introduce real-name registration for internet users, in particular microblog users. The Chinese government has found that it has been able to control social unrest by shutting down the internet and social media, such as in Xinjiang in 2009–10. It has also developed automatic screening techniques so that all words referring to the ‘Jasmine revolution’ will be deleted in social media.

Strategy and Modes of Activism from Chinese Citizens The government crackdown that followed the Arab uprisings has meant that many organizers or front-runners who advocate for democracy or social causes have been punished. This has led to a situation where the majority of scholars feel hopeless and powerless. Their response has often been to adopt an indifferent attitude or avoid dealing with the issues. However, as a response to the Arab uprisings, Chinese citizens have also developed distinctive new strategies and tactics for activism by using social media, direct action, petitioning and law. These include novel ways of conducting social protests or other activism and promoting their objectives in the struggle against an authoritarian regime. The general trend is for activism to become more individualized, to focus on legitimate interests and to operate mostly as an internal critique within the bounds of the official discourse.



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The Official Communication Channels China has the following regular social communication channels. Firstly, attending a democratic consultation meeting and raising one’s own grievance. However, China’s grassroots democratic consultation meetings commonly exclude the most marginalized members of society and it is usually the ‘social elite’ of the lower classes who attend. Social consultation is not extensive enough to incorporate33 attendance by the lowest and most marginal of the masses. Secondly, the petition system currently provides the common people with a channel through which they can air their grievances. But in recent years, many petitioners have been detained and beaten in the name of maintaining stability. In 2008, I encountered a female petitioner whose husband had become disabled after being beaten for petitioning and who wanted to receive reasonable land compensation. She went to the petitions office and often went to Beijing without any resolution and was often detained. Without any other options, she found a foreigner to whom she could outline her complaints. When she took the foreigner to see the land that had been forcibly confiscated, even the foreigner was detained by the local police. If she had been a desperate man, I could imagine her taking the path of violence. Thirdly, under China’s current system, citizens cannot organize themselves to hold public demonstrations to protest against injustice. Today this path is not open to them.

Growth of Social Protesters or Dissidents Without effective communication channels, new activists continue to emerge, despite the government crackdown. Like grass, individuals can be cut down but new activists emerge to take their place. In fact, the suppression itself fuels the growth of new generations of activists. Highprofile figures such as Fang Lizhi, Liu Junning, Liu Xiaobo and Ai Weiwei continue to emerge despite government suppression of activism. A new phenomenon is the growth in the number of older citizens who are actively engaged in political activism. For example, one editorial board for the Socialist Constitutionalism book series includes five scholars who are over 80 years old and two who are over 70. These older activists, often very critical, dare to speak out when middle-aged or

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younger activists with careers and a family might feel threatened. They do not fear suppression as much and are instead able to exercise more influence in the later part of their life. The older these activists are, the more sense of social justice they have, and the more they protest against corruption and unfairness in society. Instead of being a conservative force, these elderly activists are a force for social progress in China. In an ageing society, they are redefining the tenets of Confucian teaching, which state that once someone reaches 70 years old they should follow their inclinations while still maintaining propriety (七十而从心所欲, 不逾矩). Now when people reach 70 they are still willing to become activists and fight for social causes!

Independent Candidates One aspect of political participation that has been gaining attention in the media recently has been the involvement of independent candidates in local People’s Congress elections. He Junzhi examined the role of independent candidates as a substitution for opposition parties, divided them into four categories – idealist intellectuals, legal rights defenders, heads of state-owned enterprises and grassroots elites – and argued that they have different styles of campaigning, with the latter two types most likely to be successful. He also pointed out that the position of the local authorities is also crucial in determining the likely success of such participation.34 In the 2011 local People’s Congress elections, a number of independent candidates faced a harsh response from the authorities and were forced to quit their electoral campaigns, including those in Beijing.

Using Official Language to Mask Criticism By operating within the official discourse, it is possible for citizens to ‘critique the system from within the system’. Promoting democratic mechanisms can be justified in terms of the need to create a ‘safety valve’ with which to release public pressure on the government. Reform of the military can be discussed under the guise of studying China’s grand strategy. Rather than talking about constitutionalism, scholars instead discuss ‘socialist constitutionalism’, which allows them to borrow



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the official ideology so as to obtain protection for their critical ideas. Incorporating the phrases and concepts of the official discourse allows activists to gain a certain amount of protection by connecting their activities with the government’s ‘brand’.

New Language Citizens have also invented their own terms in order to avoid accusations that they are involved in direct conflict with the government. When middle-class activists in Shanghai wanted to protest against plans to put a high-speed rail route through their neighbourhood they talked about taking a ‘stroll’ (sanbu) rather than conducting a demonstration. Instead of strikes, workers such as taxi drivers talk about having a ‘rest’ (xiuxi), or ‘drinking tea’.35 This allows citizens to deny they are engaging in political action or ‘causing trouble’, while still getting across their political point.

Counter-Culture and Anti-Government Discourse Citizen activism has led to the creation of a new counter-culture and anti-government discourse, with its own norms and rules. In this culture, those who are supportive of the government are criticized and looked down upon. Overseas Chinese scholars who defend the Chinese government find themselves the target of criticism by Chinese citizens in this counter-culture. In comparison with past underground cultures, such as in the Soviet Union, communications technology has allowed this counter-culture to spread quickly. Online counter-culture tends towards the radical because extreme statements gain more attention than moderate ones. On microblogs such as Twitter and Sina Weibo, sharp criticism will attract more followers for a user than more moderate, measured comments.

Individualized Activism Western literature tends to interpret protest and activism as collective action by groups of citizens. In reality, however, Chinese activism and

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political participation is increasingly individualized.36 This trend towards individualized and informal action is largely a self-protection measure by activists in response to government attempts to prevent the emergence of activist organizations. In examining the participation of the urban middle-income stratum in terms of civic activities, Xin Wang argues that this group prefers individualistic activities such as travel and education over public-interest activities. Only fewer than 16 per cent of survey respondents said that in the previous three years they had been involved in activities organized by their community, union or professional association.37 Individual activists are often not connected to any particular group, and so political participation often does not involve any organization or collective action. Individual scholars write personal blogs and attract large numbers of readers. Activists such as ‘barefoot lawyers’ or independent candidates for local elections conduct individualized campaigns. Some individuals, such as Ai Weiwei, become celebrity activists who are well known but do not lead any organization.

Sudden Mass Incidents38 Sudden mass incidents are an extremely strange phenomenon. Often caused by an extremely minor matter, they can evolve into a major incident. For example, on the afternoon of 26 June 2005, in Chizhou in Anhui Province, four motorists had a dispute with pedestrian Liu Liang, whom they beat and injured. Starting as a normal traffic dispute over a car hitting someone, it gradually grew out of control until it became a violent mass incident in which rioters torched police cars and looted shops. Eventually, the local authorities needed to deploy 500 police to restore the peace. This was Chizhou’s infamous ‘26 June incident’. Such incidents offered a useful lesson that extreme social and economic injustice can lead to uprisings. Injustice provides participants with legitimacy, reducing the risk of involvement. Even if they are arrested, their participation is justifiable and seems more defensible. The more unjust an event, the less risk there is in becoming involved. For example, the increase of the taxi management fee or the elimination of individual taxi licenses was clearly exploitation by the local government, so taxi drivers held a strike to seek justice.



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In the lead-up to sudden incidents, there is often a problem with social outlets for anger. In an unfair situation, many ordinary people have a backlog of sentiments that they are unable to express. Often, an extremely unexpected minor incident provides the public with a legitimate excuse to vent those feelings that have been building up. Prior to the Weng’an incident on 28 June 2008, the police attended many mass incidents such as disputes over mining rights, the relocation of migrants and the forced demolition of houses. In all these examples, the public showcased muted hostility towards the security forces. This was the social psychological basis of the Weng’an incident. Yu Jianrong, therefore, uses the Weng’an incident as an example of when a ‘sudden incident’ becomes a ‘social venting incident’. The lead-up to sudden incidents often involves the spreading of rumours. In the Weng’an incident, a 17-year-old girl ‘drowned’ and the police’s methods of handling it were inappropriate and unconvincing, leading to more and more rumours about officials, bad police and injustice; feelings about the ‘hated rich, hated officials, and hated police’ became ever more critical. Under the current system, the public cannot express its dissatisfaction within civil society, the latter being pretty much non-existent. Therefore, it can only use disorganized and abnormal means, and so rumours become a method of political action. If someone signs their name to a campaign or ‘reveals their face’, they will be attacked. This environment produces a strange kind of political behaviour – collective action that is anonymous and organized by wordof-mouth. For example, the taxi drivers’ strike relied on the simplest word-of-mouth method. But this method often produced unreliable information and all kinds of rumours. For example, one individual crashed into another but rumours turned this into an official bullying an ordinary person. Another cause of sudden incidents is a distinct Chinese culture of creating disturbances: a small disturbance for a small issue, a big disturbance for a big issue (based on the idea that the greater the disturbance the greater the likelihood the problem will be solved). The Menglian incident is an example of this. In this case, there was an ongoing economic dispute between scattered peasant households and a large company. Even though the parties to the dispute had differing capabilities and special interests, there was no way for them to hold talks to solve the problem. Instead, on one day in July 2008, five peasants who

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were sleeping at home were beaten and taken away by the police. This incident directly sparked the later conflict. On the morning of 19 July, the local police encountered 500 villagers who surrounded and attacked them. Why has this distinctive political culture formed in China? Why do pent-up feelings have no legitimate channel for expression? In a free social system people can freely organize and hold group protests, which generally do not lead to sudden incidents. In China’s current system people’s organizational behaviour is limited. In facing situations of extreme injustice how can people break through these kinds of political limitations? How can they deal with problems? Sudden incidents appear to be the form of political behaviour that people can choose when they are powerless to solve their problems.

Suicide and Murder39 Historians will refer to 2010 as China’s ‘year of suicide’. In 2010, more than ten employees of Foxconn leapt to their death from tall buildings. In the short 50-day period between 23 March and 12 May that year, there were six murderous incidents at Chinese kindergartens and primary schools. Twenty-two children were killed and 16 seriously injured.40 The schoolyard murders in 2010 demonstrate that in recent years the methods of strong political control have reached their limits. Public protest and government control have resulted in a vicious cycle. When the government uses all kinds of methods to forbid ‘strolls’, to ban ‘rests’, and even to control ‘keywords’ in ‘gossip’, when all kinds of channels are blocked, then extremists will use these suicidal or murderous methods in protesting against an unequal society. One of the murderers shouted out that he was ‘against the rich people’ before he was arrested.

Diaomin The government treats stability as a major priority and is prepared to expend significant resources to maintain it. The pressure on governments to uphold stability in their jurisdiction provides opportunities for activist citizens. These opportunistic diaomin know that the government is

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willing to pay a premium to maintain stability and so they refuse to back down until their demands are met. They often use the official laws and official statements to argue their case and take advantage of the authorities’ mentality of maintaining stability at all costs.

Internet Activism The internet is increasingly being recognized as a site for political participation in China. Citizens are able to use the internet in sophisticated ways to avoid censorship, spread their message and critique the government. Activists can use technological tools to ‘scale the wall’ and gain access to blocked websites. Blogs and especially microblogs can rapidly spread information or criticism to networks of concerned citizens. Sullivan and Lei Xie refer to the internet as a ‘lifeline’ for environmental NGOs, particularly small groups. They point out that social networks of activists can reduce the institutionalized barriers to political participation and resistance in China.41 Yang also provides an in-depth account of how people increasingly engage in political activity – particularly activism and resistance – online.42

NGO Activism NGOs have been working on campaigns related to opening the budgeting process and the taxation system to public scrutiny. They have also been active in trying to support workers in labour disputes or provide support for women’s social causes. However, these NGOs, as previously discussed, are closely monitored by the government.

Concluding Remarks: The Dilemma and Paradoxes of the Chinese Weiwen Approach In general, the official response to the Arab uprisings has been quite successful for the Chinese government. The Chinese public sphere has been strictly controlled by the government to prevent any protest movement of the scale of the Arab uprisings from emerging in China.

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The ongoing suppression and crackdown contains several paradoxes, however.43 Firstly, the more the government focuses on maintaining stability (weiwen) and expends resources to do so, the more social protest and instability arises, as diaomin seize the opportunity to bargain. Second, when the authorities use payments to try to buy stability it can encourage radical demands and prevent the development of a more moral society. Using government money to buy stability also overlooks citizens’ desire for social justice. Rather than using payments to maintain stability in an ad hoc way, it would be better to develop deliberative forums to deal with these matters. Third, the government’s attempts to prevent organized activism generate growth in individualized activism and spontaneous social protest, but an organizational structure would make it easier to solve social problems. Without an organized structure, it is difficult for the government to negotiate with protesters in order to meet their demands. When government bodies engage in public consultation, the lack of civil society organizations means that they are presented with a large variety of individual opinions rather than more cohesive and united positions. For example, the Office of Legal Affairs under the State Council has conducted online consultations where tens of thousands of different views were submitted. The absence of interest or pressure groups that could aggregate these views means that it is difficult to assess the relative importance of the individual opinions that are expressed, which makes the policy-making process harder. Fourth, the insistence on maintaining government control over ideas only drives more students and scholars away from the official discourse and towards liberalism. Students may be forced to study Marxism in class, but outside of class they can discuss liberal ideas. When young scholars and students recognize there is a control system in place to control academic meetings, more and more students become supporters of liberal values, such as freedom of speech. The government’s efforts to control academic discourse create a permanent source of political dissidents. Rather than eliminating liberal thinking, the official crackdown instead creates a golden opportunity for liberal ideas to take root in the hearts and minds of the younger generation in China. The appeal of liberal ideas is so great that it constitutes an anti-government culture among Chinese youth. (I should stress that we should understand citizens’ responses not only in terms of liberalism,



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but also neo-socialism; the latter is a critical element of social and political thought in China.) Finally, fear of citizen organization can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. The government fears the ability of the Chinese people to organize to engage in activism and considers that if citizens were allowed to organize themselves it would lead to a form of ‘great disorder under heaven’. It therefore cracks down on activist organizations. However, by maintaining strict control, it generates more activism, which creates a vicious circle. The prospects in the long term remain unclear. While the government response to the Arab uprisings has had much success, citizens have also responded in novel ways. At the same time, there are many paradoxes and problems with the government’s attempts to suppress political activism that are yet to be resolved. The idea and practice of weiwen is ill thought-out and poorly designed. Its narrow definition of governance and stability leads to more chaos and social disorder, which ultimately calls for a democratic alternative response.

Notes 1 See the official website of Human Rights in China, available at: http://www.hrichina. org, accessed 26 January 2013. 2 The Information Office, The State Council (ed.), 2008 Nian Meiguo de Renquan Jilu (The United States Human Rights Report 2008), Beijing: Xinhua News Agency, 2009. 3 Haifeng Li, Lin Xia and Huawen Shi, ‘Jiekai “Ziyou Yazhou Diantai” de Zaoyao Zhenxiang’ [Revealing the truth behind Radio Free Asia’s rumour], Huanqiu Shibao (Global Times), 26 May 2008, p. 7. 4 Ning Fang, ‘Meiguo Weihe Dui Zhongguo Tuixiao Minzhu?’ [Why does the United States promote democracy to China?)], Huanqiu Shibao [Global Times], 20 June 2007. 5 Gang Chen, ‘Most Chinese people are optimistic about Sino-US relations’, Global Times, 17 March 2006, available at: http://news.sina.com.cn/c/2006-03-17/22069376677. shtml, accessed 23 January 2013. 6 Zhongtan Ba (ed.), Wenhua Jianshe yu Guojia Anquan [The Cultural Construction and National Security], Beijing: Shishi Press, 2007. 7 Huihou An, ‘Unrest ≠ revolution’, Jiefang Daily, 19 October 2011, available at: http://newspaper.jfdaily.com/jfrb/html/2011-10/19/content_675822.htm, accessed 23 January 2013. 8 Da Lin, ‘Can flower revolutions bring an Arab Spring?’, Dongdang Daily, 25 September 2011, available at: http://www.dfdaily.com/html/1170/2011/9/25/670628.shtml, accessed 17 November 2011. 9 Lin: ‘Can flower revolutions bring an Arab Spring?’

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10 ‘Foreign Ministry Spokesperson Jiang Yu’s Regular Press Conference on 22 March, 2011’, available at: http://www.fmprc.gov.cn/eng/xwfw/s2510/2511/t809578.htm, accessed 11 November 2011. 11 ‘France, Germany, Portugal and United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland: Draft Resolution S/2011/612)’, United Nations, 4 October 2011, available at: http://daccess-dds-ny.un.org/doc/UNDOC/GEN/N11/531/31/PDF/N1153131.pdf ?OpenElement, accessed 23 January 2013. 12 ‘United Nations 6627th meeting Security Council Report (S/PV.6627)’, United Nations, 4 October 2011, available at: http://www.securitycouncilreport.org/atf/ cf/%7B65BFCF9B-6D27-4E9C-8CD3-CF6E4FF96FF9%7D/Golan%20Heights%20 S%20PV%206627.pdf, accessed 23 January 2013. 13 ‘Russia, China block UN vote on Syria’, ABC News, 5 February 2012, available at: http:// www.abc.net.au/news/2012-02-05/russia2c-china-block-un-vote-on-syria/3812000, accessed 23 January 2013. 14 Brian Spegele, ‘China Defends Veto in Vote on Syria’, Wall Street Journal, 6 February 2012, available at: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB100014240529702043694045772067 00619907904.html, accessed 23 January 2013. 15 Shangyu Jiang, ‘China is not the Middle East’, People’s Daily (Overseas edition), 10 March 2011, available at: http://news.sina.com.cn/pl/2011-03-10/032522084415.shtm, accessed 23 January 2013. 16 VOA Tibetan Report, ‘US Senator: China cannot avoid “Arab Spring”’, Voice of America: Tibetan, 5 February 2012, available at: http://www.voanews.com/tibetan-english/news/ US-Senator-China-Cannot-Avoid-Arab-Spring-138774964.html, accessed 23 January 2013. 17 RenPing Shan, ‘US ambassador to China stopovers Wangfujing street by coincidence?’, Global Times, 28 February 2011, available at: http://suxin.crtvu.edu.cn/bbs/viewthread. php?tid=10600, accessed 23 January 2013; ‘US embassy: Jon Huntsman appeared at demonstration site is a case of coincidence’, China Daily, 25 February 2011, available at: http://www.gcpnews.com/articles/2011-02-25/C1046_62196.html, accessed 23 January 2013. 18 My interview in the State Department on 10 March 2008. 19 For a criticism of this, see Yawei Liu, ‘Please do not have too many “US conspiracy theory”’, Global Times, 18 January 2011, available at: http://news.163. com/11/0118/22/6QNBTINT00012Q9L.html, accessed 23 January 2013. 20 Shiyu Yu, ‘The Arab tide of democracy is not a “colour revolution”’, Lianhe Zaobao, 14 February 2011, available at: http://www.zaobao.com/special/forum/pages8/forum_ zp110214a.shtml, accessed 17 November 2011. 21 Isaac Stone Fish, ‘The voice of treason: Dissident Chinese artist Ai Weiwei speaks about his detainment ordeal’, Newsweek, 21 November 2011, pp. 26–31. 22 Edward Steinfeld, ‘China’s other revolution’, Boston Review, July/August 2011, available at: http://bostonreview.net/BR36.4/ndf_edward_s_steinfeld_china.php, accessed 25 November 2011. 23 Baogang He, Rural Democracy in China (New York: Palgrave/Macmillan, 2007). 24 Baogang He and Lang Youxin, ‘China’s first direct election of the township head: A case study of Buyun’, Japanese Journal of Political Science 2(1), May 2001, p. 1–22.



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25 Baogang He, ‘China’s step toward democratization: Intraparty democracy’, in K. Lawson (general ed.), B. He, A. Kulik, and K. Lawson (volume eds), Political Parties and Democracy: Volume III: Post-Soviet and Asian Political Parties, Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger Publishers, 2010, pp. 127–47. 26 Baogang He, ‘Civic engagement through participatory budgeting in China: Three different logics at work’, Public Administration and Development 31(2), 2011, p. 122–33. 27 Baogang He and Mark Warren, ‘Authoritarian deliberation: The deliberative turn in Chinese political development’, Perspectives on Politics 9(2), 2011, pp. 269–89. 28 Teresa Wright, Accepting Authoritarianism: State-Society Relations in China’s Reform Era, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2010, p. 14. 29 Binxiao Hua, Beyond Liberalism: A Discourse on Constitutional Socialism, China: Xibeidaxue University Press, 2010, p. 542. 30 ‘“Xi JinPing condemns foreigners” intervention in China affairs’, 12 February 2009, available at: http://news.qq.com/a/20090212/001882.htm, accessed 24 January 2013. 31 Baidu Baike, available at: http://baike.baidu.com/view/2063502.htm, accessed 23 January 2013. 32 Xiaode, ‘Jiemi Guoji Feizhengfu Zuzhi: Ganga zhong Kuaisu Fazhan’ [Uncover international non-governmental organizations: Embarrassing rapid development], Guoji Xianqu Daobao (International Herald Leader), available at: http://news.sina.com. cn/c/p/2008-06-16/113215753758.shtml, 16 June 2008, accessed 23 January 2013. 33 ‘Wang Yang acquiesces the demonstrations around Guangdong in order to protect his career’, Apple Daily, 22 November 2011, available at: http://boxun.com/news/gb/ china/2011/11/201111220946.shtml, accessed 23 January 2013. 34 Junzhi He, ‘Independent candidates in China’s local people’s congresses: A typology’, Journal of Contemporary China 19(64), 2010, pp. 311–33. 35 Shibing Shan, ‘Gongmin shehui de guaiyi biaoda: “sanbu” yu “hecha”’ [The strange expression of civil society: “walk” and “drink tea”)], Chongqing Shibao (Chongqing Times), 3 December 2008, available at: http://www.chinaelections.org/NewsInfo. asp?NewsID=138915, accessed 9 January 2012. 36 See Yunxiang Yan, ‘The Chinese path to individualization’, The British Journal of Sociology 61(3), 2010, pp. 489–512. 37 Xin Wang, ‘Divergent identities, convergent interests: The rising middle-income stratum in China and its civic awareness’, Journal of Contemporary China 17(54), 2008, pp. 53–69, at p. 68. 38 For more on this topic, see Baogang He, ‘Xieshang Minzhu zai Jiejue Quntixing Tufa Shijianzhong de Zuoyong’ [The function of deliberative democracy in dealing with unexpected group incidents], Xuexi Shibao [Study Times], 19 April 2010, p. 5. 39 For more on suicide, see Baogang He, ‘A political-sociological analysis of China’s suicide’, The Twenty-First Century, No. 5, 2010, pp. 4–7. 40 The murders and suicides have certain similarities. Firstly, after indiscriminately killing innocent children the murderers killed themselves. Using an adult’s strength and lethal weapons they attacked children who were too weak to defend themselves. They did not attempt to kill corrupt officials or police but instead targeted the weakest members of society. Secondly, they were all male and were on average 42.5 years old. Thirdly, the killers and those who committed suicide all came from the lowest level of society

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and were excluded from regular social and political life. They were ‘insignificant’ and marginalized people with no value to or voice in society. Fourthly, these incidents occurred in areas of rapid economic development: Shandong, Guangxi, Guangdong, Jiangsu and Fujian. Even Hanzhong in Shaanxi Province is an area that is developing relatively quickly. 41 Jonathan Sullivan and Lei Xie, ‘Environmental activism, social networks and the internet’, The China Quarterly 198, 2009, pp. 422–32, at p. 424. 42 Guobin Yang, The Power of the Internet in China: Citizen Activism Online, New York: Columbia University Press, 2009. 43 Yongshun Cai examines the dilemma posed by popular resistance. See Yongshun Cai, ‘Power structure and regime resilience: Contentious Politics in China’, British Journal of Political Science 38(3), pp. 411–32.

CHAPTER 9

Democratization in Myanmar and the Arab Uprisings Trevor Wilson

The ‘spring’ that Myanmar has been experiencing since 2011 has its own rationale and origins, but like democratic change elsewhere owes much of its principles and direction to Western ideas. Burmese reactions to the Arab uprisings have been mixed, with many Burmese disturbed by the unruly and violent nature of events in many parts of the Middle East. But even the problematic aspects of the Arab uprisings serve as a reminder to the Burmese authorities – as well as the Burmese people – that denying popular opinion is a high-risk strategy. Therefore, the Arab uprisings act as a reinforcing underpinning for Myanmar’s own ongoing, and as yet unfinished, ‘democratization’ process.

The General Pattern of Burmese Responses to Outside Political Developments The Burmese authorities and the Burmese populace always take a keen interest in developments in the rest of the world. (It is a myth that Myanmar’s isolationist arrangements in international access and travel mean that its people ignore or are oblivious to developments in the rest of the world.) The Burmese do this through access to international television and radio broadcasting, some of which is directed specifically at Myanmar, such as the Voice of America, BCC Burmese Service, Radio Free Asia and Democratic Voice of Burma. Even in the far corners of the country, the Burmese tune into international broadcasts which are very difficult for the authorities to block or control. Some of the broadcast reports are occasionally also carried in local Burmese journals, subject to the clearance of

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the Burmese authorities’ previously strict media censorship. Word-ofmouth communication about international events reinforces the spread and power of ideas and issues. As a consequence, one can argue that developments in the rest of the world actually reach the ordinary Burmese quite quickly, and potentially can have similar influence to the impact that they have in other countries. The Burmese authorities themselves have an exclusive communications system under which they circulate reports of world events among the leadership group so that they are also informed about developments. This system allows the authorities to modulate and anticipate any ‘knock-on’ effects on the citizens of Myanmar of developments elsewhere, but little is known or published about the workings of this exclusive and confidential communication network. Events that might have caused some concern for the authorities would include: street protests; images of other authorities having to use force against protesters; images of other authorities, especially other security authorities, being attacked by their own people or by rebels; and the content of some of the slogans and demands of protesters. As in many parts of the world, in Myanmar there was a keen interest in the developments occurring in the Arab uprisings. This was not directly reflected in the amount of coverage in the Burmese media, but major developments were covered, although not in as much detail as in countries with a direct interest in the Middle East. So while some developments seem to have been censored, at other times important events have received coverage and in some instances public comment. Starting in 2011, the new Myanmar government deliberately but carefully relaxed media censorship, especially print media, after the end of the first session of the new parliament in May 2011. They apparently did this as part of their own ‘liberalization’ process, rather than in response to the Arab uprisings. The liberalization trend did not obviously falter or pause, either in reaction to internal events or external ones in the Middle East. But generally, domestic developments and a stream of ‘good news’ from the government occupied people’s attention rather than the problems or difficulties that ordinary people still faced.



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Specific Burmese Reactions to the Events of the Arab Uprisings During the course of 2011, there was relatively little direct coverage of Arab uprisings by the Burmese media, and it appears that such coverage was initially filtered by censors as part of a blanket cautious approach to events in Arab countries over the period, due to concern over a possible ‘spill-over’ effect. Of course, international satellite TV reporting was widely viewed by the Burmese populace. The relaxation of the previous ban on public protests in late 2011 indicates that concerns on the part of the authorities towards ‘spill-over’ have reduced.1 The most significant Burmese political reaction to the Arab uprisings was by the Burmese opposition leader, Aung San Suu Kyi, who said in the Reith Lecture series broadcast by the BBC in June 2012 that Burmese people found the uprisings ‘exciting’ and inspiring. Initially, she spoke about the similarities and differences between the Arab uprisings and developments in Burma. ‘The troops are not firing on the people in Tunisia; the changes in Burma are coming from the top.’ Later she said, ‘Arab Spring-style revolt is not the answer because there are finally signs of freedom in Myanmar.’2 But she still acknowledged the overall inspiring power of the Arab Spring as important.3 The Speaker of the Pyithu Hluttaw (People’s Assembly) and former general Shwe Mann said, ‘we have to make sure that the kind of unrest that has happened in the Middle East doesn’t happen here.’4 Other highlevel government officials made similar comments. Popular comedian and ex-political prisoner Zarganar was quoted as being uninterested by what was happening in the Arab uprisings: ‘I don’t know what will happen in next two years [in Myanmar] but for the time being, I don’t think we need something like it. In my opinion, this is not the time to be protesting in the streets.’5 Some specific Burmese political reactions were probably reported more widely in the international media than in Burmese domestic media, although they would have become known to interested Burmese. Some high-profile US figures tried to link the Arab uprisings with possible change in Myanmar, but with little visible effect. For example, US Republican Senator and former presidential candidate John McCain said during his visit to Myanmar in June 2011: ‘The winds of change are now blowing, and they will not be confined to the Arab world … Governments that shun evolutionary reforms now will eventually

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face revolutionary change later.’6 But as the well-informed American Burma scholar, Professor David Steinberg from Georgetown University, pointed out: Contrary to the Arab Spring, the potential changes in Myanmar are coming from the top. Belatedly, the military-in-mufti leadership seems finally to have understood that to keep essential power, they had to institute some socio-economic liberalization and even some modest degree of political pluralism.7

Summary of Burmese Reactions to the Arab Uprisings Phenomenon On the whole, Burmese reaction to the Arab uprisings was mixed: the Burmese were unimpressed by the excessive violence – especially the killing of Gaddafi, which was broadcast and reported prominently: for example, in the English-language Myanmar Times under the heading ‘Gaddafi’s Grisly Death’.8 There was little inclination among the Burmese people to relate these events to their own, somewhat different situation, or to turn on their government that was already starting to deliver real change, even if ordinary people retained a good measure of scepticism about their military-influenced government. In Yangon, the former capital, some observers thought the pace of events inside Myanmar might have quickened during 2011 because the authorities could see what was happening in the Middle East when incumbent regimes did not respond flexibly and soon enough.9 But there are intrinsic reasons why the democratization process in Myanmar gathered momentum during 2011, the main one being the evidence that modest changes by the new government were well accepted both domestically and internationally, and that the Burmese citizens were clearly impatient to see greater change, which the government recognized it could afford to introduce. There was no sign in Myanmar of any tendency to try ‘copy-cat’ responses. There was no observable sense of common ground from Burmese Muslims (who make up only about 5 per cent of the total Burmese population). Most Burmese would have been appalled by the widespread killings, shocked by the chaos and disorder that marked the



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Arab uprisings, and heartened by the fact that for a change Myanmar had political leaders (from both sides) who had apparently decided to work together for peaceful change. Generally, the Myanmar government seemed confident that its managed approach to ‘democratization’ was appropriate and that it should deliver on the promises it had made without compromising its bottom line of pursuing gradual, stable transition which did not go against any vested army interests.

Burma’s Home-Grown Steps Towards ‘Democratization’ ‘Democratization’, as it unfolded in Myanmar in 2011, had its own origins and took its own form. It was not directly derivative of moves towards democracy anywhere else in the world, although neither was it startlingly different. Thus its features and its timing were basically the product of indigenous Burmese factors. But of course, developments in Myanmar were inevitably read in conjunction with what was happening elsewhere, including by the Burmese people themselves, and so cannot be separated entirely from events elsewhere. One distinctive feature of the Myanmar situation is the two-decade contest over the issue of ‘democracy’ between forces inside Burma on the one hand – the military rulers versus the proponents of ‘democracy’ headed by Aung San Suu Kyi and others – and outside Myanmar on the other – between the Western-led opponents of the military regime (bolstered by more than 1 million Burmese activists living overseas after 1988 and their supporters) and the ‘non-interventionists’ among Burma’s neighbours in Asia and the ‘Third World’. As a result, Myanmar became the target of one of the most intensive set of international sanctions measures ever instituted outside the United Nations framework, beginning with the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) members’ bans on economist assistance, and on defence and political ties after 1988, which was reinforced at various intervals and put into place in response to further crackdowns by the Burmese military. Mileposts in this contest and the ‘freeze’ imposed on Burma were: 1997 (US investment bans); 2003 following the regimeinstigated attack on Aung San Suu Kyi and her supporters at Depayin in Northern Burma (additional political bans); and 2007 after the regime suppressed the Buddhist monk-led mass protests of the so-called

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‘Saffron Revolution’ (widespread trade, investment and financial bans by individual OECD members and the EU). Cyclone Nargis in 2008 provoked further standoffs between these two sets of forces, when the military regime at first refused and then accepted international assistance, and Burmese citizens blatantly ignored their government’s directives not to enter the cyclone-affected areas to help.  It is sometimes forgotten that this contest was marked by a previous ‘thaw’ between 2000 and 2003, culminating in Aung San Suu Kyi’s travels around Myanmar. However, her popularity prompted the hard-line Burmese army leadership to institute short-term crackdowns against her and against the ‘reformist’ Prime Minister General Khin Nyunt, who was purged and not released until January 2012. That brief ‘thaw’ was also marked by some limited and unco-ordinated efforts at ‘engagement’ by outside powers with the regime, which were ultimately undermined by the repressive actions of the military regime, which nevertheless retained its commitment to its 2003 ‘Road Map’ (discussed later) and revived its National Assembly process to produce a new constitution in 2008. When she became US Secretary of State in 2009, Hillary Clinton famously (and accurately) declared that all international policies towards Myanmar had failed. While neither sanctions nor engagement singly ‘won the day’, and while ‘non-approval’ measures were often unjust or disproportionate, the military regime knew they had no choice but to proceed with the national elections they scheduled in November 2010 which provided the final turning point, showing all concerned that elections could be held and a ‘new’ (successor) government could be installed that could draw sufficient popular backing despite the longstanding loss of legitimacy and loss of credibility by Myanmar’s military rulers. Now the challenge for all concerned – Burmese and non-Burmese alike – is to manage the ‘thaw’ better than they managed the ‘freeze’. Myanmar’s ‘Road Map’ for national reconciliation was set out by then Prime Minister Khin Nyunt, in August 2003, and remains the pathway for political change being followed by the former military regime as well as the present ‘civilianized’ government of Myanmar.10 The ‘Road Map’ was a response by the military regime (known then as the State Peace and Development Council, and previously as the State Law and Restoration Council) to international and domestic demands that the Burmese military relinquish control of the government. It was built on the foundations of a National Assembly process that began in 1993, but



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which was suspended when Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD) walked out in 1995 because of the excessively tight control the military leadership maintained over proceedings. It resumed in 2003, without the NLD participating, concluding in April 2007 after it produced a new draft constitution. Although a very limited exercise, with delegates nominated by the regime rather than elected representatives, the National Assembly was in part a trial for a quasi-democratic process, which would eventually resurface in the new parliamentary process. The ‘Road Map’ was not directly the result of a display of ‘people’s power’ such as, it could be argued, occurred in the 1988 uprisings against the government. Rather, the Burmese army intended that the ‘Road Map’ would manage the process of ending martial law and the ‘temporary’ direct military rule that was imposed in September 1988. Therefore, the references in it, and in government propaganda, years afterwards to ‘multi-party democracy’ were both deliberate and significant as a means of playing to an international as well as a domestic audience. Of course, in the end, ‘multi-party democracy’ became little more than a slogan in regime propaganda, although it was given a practical ‘trial’ in the National Assembly process from 2004 to 2008 and in the constitutional referendum of May 2008. There were certainly elements of ‘people’s power’ on display during the 2007 ‘Saffron Revolution’ in Myanmar, but the events of 2007 have only had an indirect influence on subsequent developments. Is it just a coincidence that Myanmar’s process of democratization stepped up momentum as the Arab uprisings unfolded? While the sequence of Myanmar’s steps towards democracy had been laid down for some time, the precise timetable had not been, although its 31 January starting point was settled several months ahead of that date. Over the years since its inception, Myanmar’s ‘Road Map’ had been drawn out and experienced delays, so it is notable that there were no apparent delays in its final implementation in 2011. Indeed, all concerned would say they have been surprised by the speed of events. It certainly looks as if developments in the Arab uprisings helped ensure that delays did not occur, nor that excuses could be used to hold up delivery of political commitments. So why did democratization in Myanmar happen during 2011 and 2012, and not earlier? Leaving aside the timing impact of the ageing military leadership,11 it is probably the case that Myanmar’s decision-

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makers recognized that in recent years they had lost rather than gained legitimacy, and that there was little prospect either of their gaining popular support internally or shifting international attitudes to their country (and getting rid of sanctions), so they had no choice but to move forward at a time of relative calm inside Myanmar. It seems likely that China was privately pressing them to move forward, as was the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), which welcomed Myanmar as a member in 1997, in a more public way. In the end, the 2011 timing was good, the only difficulty being the June 2011 breakdown of the important ceasefire with the Kachin Independence Organisation, but this was among the legacy of unfinished business that the military leadership had proved incapable of resolving satisfactorily under its former head Senior General Than Shwe.

Understanding ‘Democratization’ as It Emerges in Myanmar Myanmar has had almost no experience of ‘democracy’, following military rule in some form or another for the past 50 years, so the institutions and mechanisms to support democracy – if they exist in Myanmar – are either in their infancy (like the parliamentary committee system) or unproven (justice system reform). Yet, there was no direct external intervention in Myanmar’s ‘Road Map’ and the subsequent democratization process, which have some ‘ownership’ amongst the Burmese inside the country. However, the quality of some elements of the process is not necessarily great, with one result being that it generates little acceptance or credibility among those outside the country (including the Burmese diaspora). Consequently, the United States, for example, has some trouble coming to terms with the new setup. US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton’s December 2011 visit signalled a significant reversal of US policy, which was welcomed, but the US government will have to deliver other concrete policy changes through Congress, which may not be so easy. Writing more than ten years earlier, the American scholar of Myanmar, Mary Callahan, with great foresight, had concluded as follows in trying to identify the issues affecting the development of democracy in the country:



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Barriers to democracy include (1) an inadequate political basis for federalism in this multi-ethnic society; (2) a century-old crisis of state capacity rooted in the fragmented nature of society; and (3) an institutional intolerance for dissent that is found in authoritarian as well as democratic organizations.12 Many of these ‘obstacles’ were evident as Myanmar prepared for the political transition that was initiated by the adoption of a new constitution in 2008. There are more differences than similarities between the Arab uprisings of 2011 and the Burmese ‘Road Map’. Eight years after its ‘Road Map’ was launched, Myanmar has largely implemented its key items, which has produced some potentially democratic outcomes for a Burmese home-grown political transition. The completed steps include: a popular referendum for a new constitution (in 2008); elections for assemblies and leaders (in 2010), although there were tight controls over all election processes; the convening of new elected assemblies for national and regional levels (on 31 January 2011); and the dissolution of the former military regime and the transfer of power to the new government (on 30 March 2011). The sequencing of Myanmar’s steps seems to have worked reasonably well as far as the main elements of the transition are concerned, but the details are not necessarily all yet in place. Nevertheless, this has bequeathed to Myanmar some quasidemocratic features in its political transition. To the surprise of Burmese and foreign experts alike, these features became increasingly apparent during 2011 and 2012, the coincidence with the Arab uprisings not being deliberate. These features include: • its participatory nature (through an effective elected representative parliament); • for the first time, the emergence of limited public policy debate after censorship was relaxed earlier in 2011; • a greater degree of responsiveness to public and opposition opinion (for example, stopping an unpopular Chinese dam construction, at Mitsone in the north on the Irrawaddy River; and an excessively large power station for a large infrastructure development at Dawei, in the far south);

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• accepting opposition amendments to the election law, enabling the NLD to drop its boycott of the election process; • introducing a much greater degree of consultative processes (policy ‘workshops’ on various new policies had wide participation, including in some instances Aung San Suu Kyi herself); and • laws are now being enacted through assemblies (starting from April 2011), although there is still little genuine consultation, and policy debates inside the assemblies are somewhat stylized. Amendments to existing laws are also proving possible. Both the Arab uprisings and Burmese democracy movements have their inspiration in Western ideas of democracy (‘freedom’, elections, benevolent and responsive governments, tolerance of diversity). In Myanmar, these ideas are to some extent in conflict with Burmese traditions of authoritarian rule, hierarchical (top-down) society, and deference to high officials. Aung San Suu Kyi has refuted suggestions that democracy is unsuitable for Burmese conditions.13 But she has expended a lot of effort in explaining to her supporters and the Burmese people what democracy means. Over a longer period, there are some similarities between Myanmar and the mass Arab movements that have occurred peacefully, as was the case in Myanmar’s cities during the street protests led by Buddhist monks in the ‘Saffron Revolution’ of 2007. The major difference between the two phenomena is the behaviour of the national leadership: in Myanmar, it is the new president himself, Thein Sein, who is pushing for – and lending his authority to – unprecedented change; he is in the forefront of action, is openly conciliatory to opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi, and so far is widely acknowledged as being genuine in his desire for the necessary reforms. He is able to make such bold commitments because the Head of State/Army (Senior General Than Shwe) who preceded him in office and had long blocked any reforms, has finally departed the scene, even though some observers suspect he is influencing developments in the background despite the lack of any evidence that this is so. But some Myanmar experts believe the new Myanmar government would have taken the signals from the upheavals in the Middle East to heart.14



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Another difference is the Burmese military regime’s goal of ‘disciplined democracy’, which clearly has an authoritarian essence, although it is rarely defined or described. This terminology explicitly implies an overlay of authoritarian control as found in all Burmese governments since 1960.15 Such an undisguised restriction on ‘full’ democracy seems to mean retaining the controlling hand of the Burmese army in the background as a kind of ‘reserve power’; acceptance that there will not be unlimited scope to contest policy or to appeal against government decisions; that certain repressive laws will not be repealed for the time being (but are presumably held in reserve); and the implicit threat of military intervention in the event of instability. One-quarter of parliamentary seats in each of the assemblies are reserved for the military; at the moment, they mostly seem to be acting as silent witnesses rather than pro-actively promoting or blocking change, but that could easily change. Moves towards ‘democratization’ have become more discernible in Myanmar during 2011, in parallel with the events of the Arab uprisings, but they still have a long way to go before they bear much resemblance to democracy as we know it. It is difficult to say categorically how much or how little ‘democracy’ exists in Myanmar. Some initial comments can be ventured: • The responsiveness of Myanmar’s political system to the people’s interests has improved slightly, but has not yet been clearly demonstrated. • Mechanisms and institutions to embed democratic processes in the bureaucracy and elsewhere are still not in place. • The extent of true accountability is not yet clear (but a Government’s Guarantees, Pledges and Undertakings Scrutiny Committee and Public Accounts Committee have been set up in the National Assembly). • Not much toleration of dissent exists, but this may be changing since the new public protest law was approved in November 2011. • While change has been largely peaceful, it has not meant an end to the arrest of activists. The new political arrangements cannot be described as entirely benign and always working in the people’s interests.

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Human Rights groups have also been critical of the Myanmar authorities’ continued use of some of the draconian laws on the statute books that have allowed the authorities for many years to prosecute people for relatively innocent acts as part of the overall repressive regime. Some of the ‘abusive’ legislation that legal experts have identified as being used in this way, and as needing to be amended if Myanmar is to enjoy real democracy, include: • • • • • •

1908 Unlawful Association Act; 1950 Emergency Provision Act; 1962 Printers and Publishers Law; 1975 State Protection Law; 1988 Law Relating to Forming of Organizations;16 and 2004 Electronic Transactions Law.

Some of these laws are the ones under which journalists and others were still being charged during 2011, when the opening up was already under way. With laws now able to be amended in the National Assembly, there is a real prospect for the first time of such laws being changed, if not repealed, in the near future. It might be wise to see this ‘Burmanized’ variety of democracy as sui generis, rather than as something which must adjust further to conform with pre-conceived international (or rather Western) notions of ‘democracy’. If these hybrid democratic measures can win widespread support culturally, can satisfy the need for expression of legitimate popular aspirations, and provide workable and effective outcomes and solutions in dealing with common problems, this might well be sufficient. Participation and ownership for people unaccustomed to enjoying such opportunities could well meet most needs. In any event, even if what is being constructed in Myanmar seems somewhat distinctive, it still has many of the hallmarks of democracy, albeit ‘democracy with Burmese characteristics’. The exact nature of such a ‘work-in-progress’ democracy is not entirely clear yet. It will involve freedom of expression, association and assembly – but all of these may be conditional rather than unlimited. It may retain its topdown, authoritarian style. It is likely to continue to be legalistic, with formal/rigid procedures. Decision-making may be closed rather than open. The strong influence of bureaucrats/technocrats will probably



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continue. Whether or not these steps towards democracy in Myanmar are irreversible remains to be seen, but they will be important.

Some Foreign Policy Implications of ‘Democratization’ in Myanmar Myanmar’s neighbours have for some time been keen to see reform and improvement in conditions in Myanmar, as they see tensions repeatedly resurfacing inside the country and relentless deterioration in socio-economic and political indicators there. They also see these tensions often spilling over their borders via unpredictable large-scale movement of peoples, and through the spread of transnational crime such as trafficking and smuggling. Myanmar’s neighbours were prepared to engage in forms of co-operation with Myanmar to fix some of these undesirable developments, but had little real influence over the country’s military regime. Therefore, Myanmar’s increasing involvement within ASEAN and apparent sincerity in committing itself to ASEANwide policies has been well received within this organization, although Myanmar’s individual inputs are not necessarily significant. Organizations such as ASEAN also pressed for democratic reforms as well as stronger co-ordination and conformity with ASEAN norms and procedures. Even though not all ASEAN members are ‘democratic’, and although ASEAN normally avoids ‘interference’ in the internal affairs of its members, in recent years it has openly urged Myanmar to move ahead with political reform and to pursue reconciliation with Aung San Suu Kyi. One reason ASEAN did this was because of pressure from opposition politicians inside the organization, expressed through the ASEAN Inter-Parliamentary Association. There is no doubt, however, that Myanmar looks more natural in an ASEAN setting with a civilian rather than a military government and that other members of ASEAN would also be more comfortable with this.17 Democratization in Myanmar would certainly be seen generally as having positive implications for regional peace and stability in Southeast Asia, as long as the breakdown of authoritarian rule does not lead to instability and administrative chaos. Were democratization to lead to instability in Myanmar, ASEAN could be expected to respond fairly directly and practically despite its own institutional weakness in

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dealing with political issues, but there might be little ASEAN could do to influence events in Myanmar directly. Moreover, the interests of individual ASEAN members in Myanmar are not identical, and harmonizing ASEAN views on Myanmar is often complex and drawnout. This will probably not change. China’s interest has long been in seeing Myanmar achieve greater political legitimacy (although this is described publicly as a hope to see ‘political stability’ there) and pursue better socio-economic policies. China cannot afford to have too great a discrepancy between conditions and government approaches in its own border provinces and Myanmar. So China would substantially share US thinking on promoting (qualified) political reform in Myanmar, although it might not agree with US methods or its ‘megaphone diplomacy’ in terms of US policies towards the country. China has said the United States should stop imposing sanctions against Myanmar without UN Security Council support, although in other ways US and Chinese interests visà-vis Myanmar might not diverge significantly.

Conclusions The Burmese were generally encouraged by sensing that democratic forces were gaining influence in the Middle East, but uncomfortable with the violence and chaos that was often associated with the change process. For them, Myanmar’s own democratization ‘model’ is seen as more or less working and as being suitably targeted and (unusually for Myanmar) a source of hope for the future. For once, some comfort could be found in the fact that Myanmar’s problems are seen as distinctive and requiring particular solutions, rather than fitting a wider pattern. The outlook for continuing democratization in Myanmar is widely seen as being better now than it has ever been, despite the doubts and criticisms of some prominent democracy activists who remain sceptics and, in the author’s view, are in denial. The Arab uprisings phenomenon may not have much direct impact on this process, but it powerfully underlines the universality of the appeal of democracy, and dramatically highlights the strength of movements opposed to authoritarian, despotic and abusive regimes. Certainly, it will do no harm in acting as a reminder to the Burmese army of the potential consequences for



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them of not adhering to their agenda of political reforms. If their own ‘democratization’ measures are successful, the Burmese authorities can even be expected to take pride in the fact that they have undertaken and accomplished this process largely on their own.

Notes 1 See David Henry Poveter, ‘Towards the end of war in Myanmar’, Asia Times Online, 14 December 2011, available at: http://www.atimes.com/atimes/Southeast_Asia/ ML14Ae02.html, accessed 4 December 2011. 2 ‘News Asia program’, Al-Jazeera, 18 September 2011, available at: http://www.aljazeera. com/news/asia/2011/09/20119184468282395.html, accessed 4 December 2011. 3 See Aung San Suu Kyi, ‘The Essential Flame’, International Herald Tribune, 2 December 2011, available at: intlheraldtribuneasskarticle.docx, accessed 4 December 2011. 4 ‘Myanmar politician warns of Arab spring’, United Press International (UPI), 24 June 2011, available at: http://www.upi.com/Top_News/Special/2011/06/24/Myanmarpolitician-warns-of-Arab-spring/UPI-27491308932120, accessed 26 June 2011. 5 Nay Thwin, ‘Zarganar cautions against “Burma Spring”’, Democratic Voice of Burma, 18 October 2011, available at: http://www.dvb.no/news/zarganar-cautions-against%E2%80%98burma-spring%E2%80%99/18262, accessed 25 June 2013. 6 Press Conference in Yangon, 3 June 2011. 7 David I Steinberg, ‘The Arab Spring and Myanmar’, Asia Times Online Southeast Asia, 21 October 2011, available at: http://www.atimes.com/atimes/Southeast_Asia/ MJ21Ae01.html, accessed 4 December 2011. 8 Reported under the headline ‘Kadhafi’s grisly death splits opinion, even in Myanmar’, Myanmar Times, 18–24 October 2011. 9 Comments to the author by a foreign observer who was working in Yangon during 2011. 10 Specific elements of the ‘Road Map’ were: 1. Reconvening of the National Assembly (happened in 2004); 2. Step by step process towards genuine and disciplined democratic system (no timing); 3. Drafting new constitution from basic principles laid down by the National Convention (2005–7); 4. Adoption of constitution through national referendum (2008); 5. Holding of free and fair elections for assemblies (2010); 6. Convening of assemblies (2011); and 7. Building of ‘modern, developed and democratic nation’ by elected leaders and by government bodies formed by assemblies (no prescribed process or timing). 11 Senior General Than Shwe was 77 years old in 2010. 12 Mary P. Callahan, ‘Democracy in Burma: The lessons of history’, NBR Analysis, Laing Communications Inc., 1998, p. 6. 13 She has argued strongly that ‘in Burma … the people have had to draw on their own resources to explode the twin myths of their unfitness for political responsibility and the unsuitability of democracy for their society’. See Aung San Suu Kyi, ‘Freedom, development, and human worth’, Journal of Democracy 6(2), April 1995, pp. 11–19.

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14 Steinberg (op. cit.) speculated that ‘perhaps the Myanmar military understood the lessons from the Middle East: if the leadership refuses to reform, society may force change’. 15 One of the rare elaborations of ‘disciplined democracy’ was in an address reported in the New Light of Myanmar on 29 June 2008. ‘In conclusion, the minister urged the literary workers to inculcate the people with correct outlook and knowledge, to safeguard the national interest, to discharge the duties bestowed by history in efforts for emergence of a modern, developed, discipline-flourishing democratic nation and to realize the objectives of the association.’ 16 See Aung Htoo, ‘Burma’s Judiciary – What changes will be required to create a new system?’, Legal Journal on Burma (Lawkpala) 32 (April 2009), pp. 5–12. 17 When Myanmar hosted ASEAN Ministerial meetings under the State Peace and Development Council (1996–2011), as the military regime styled itself, its ministers wore their military uniforms as was their habit in Yangon. When they attended ASEAN meetings in other countries, they wore civilian clothes (or national dress).

CHAPTER 10

Arab Uprisings’ Contagion Electronic Vicariousness and Democratic Empathy in Malaysia and Singapore Alan Chong

Within the rather considerable literature on cross-border democracy promotion, the notion of ‘contagion’ implies a wide range of informational effects. These include the inspiration of novelty, sympathy through fundamental humane solidarity, incitement to dissent, the signal for conservative reaction and, for many in the academic profession, the opportunity to lift the curtain on political causation through ideas. According to Laurence Whitehead, one of the leading scholars on the subject, democratic contagion simply means the ‘widespread, unintentional transmission within a geographical expanse due to commonalities in political, military, economic and cultural conditions which are also facilitated by multiple channels of linkages across sovereign borders’.1 This explanation is fine if one does not need to explain inconsistencies in the outcomes of contagion. But in examining the Arab uprisings’ contagion of Malaysia and Singapore in 2011, one is traipsing through layers of subtleties and socio-cultural filters. Contagion therefore needs to be qualified. However, before this chapter sketches out its plan of approach, it is important to appreciate the nature of the contagion of the Arab uprisings. The latter are widely regarded as a vindication of the socializing potential of the Facebook and Twitter-facilitated virtual community. The authoritarian regimes of Presidents Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali of Tunisia and Hosni Mubarak of Egypt had both operated an efficient network of offline secret police personnel who could arrest people with impunity and pre-empt opposition groups before they could organize mass protests. Both Ben Ali and Mubarak operated classic authoritarian regimes that co-opted to varying degrees the military and the police, trade unions

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and civilian political parties. Elections were highly controlled affairs offering little meaningful choice in leadership changes. Moreover, mainstream media such as television, radio and newspapers were either directly or indirectly controlled by the state. Facebook and Twitter were, however, progenies of the internet, and were in any case under foreign corporate, especially American, management. The open-ended nature of building virtual communities via Facebook also made redundant the usual criteria of recruiting membership for opposition movements through personal introductions and formal induction. Facebook allowed its members to be accessed by virtually the entire worldwide fraternity of users regardless of whether they were one’s family, friends, fellow citizens or total strangers living half a world away. Up till the moment when mass agitation for change broke out in Tunisia and Egypt, none of their existing regimes fully understood the political circumvention these internet features provided. The chapter proceeds as follows: democratization, following the work of Murray Edelman and Laurence Whitehead, will be introduced as a drama.2 This is so since democratization, or the exercise of democracy in transitions from authoritarian to liberal cultures, involves sharp deliberation over the incommensurable value of pluralism, propaganda of word and deed by all protagonists in the transition, and the rationality of emotions invoked in that transition. ‘Electronic vicariousness’ emerges with the addition of Information and Communications Technology (ICT) into the drama. Not only does ICT heighten the appearance and discourse of transition, but also due to the built-in instantaneous interactivity in platforms such as mobile phones, blogs dedicated to alternative news, Facebook and Twitter, audiences both near and far from the physical events of transition participate in vicarious activity on an almost real-time basis. This results in democratic empathy insofar as political momentum can be electronically inspired by the transition. Politics in Malaysia and Singapore are affected by the events of the Arab uprisings insofar as their domestic political actors – both official and unofficial – are induced to respond through emulation, expressions of alarm or drawing lessons for future democratic praxis. Hence, there is the need to examine electronic vicariousness and democratic empathy. This chapter will only marginally consider the reporting from the offline and mainstream press and television channels in these two Southeast Asian states, since their dominant regimes control and filter these outlets



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to varying degrees on the basis of developmental and national security considerations.3 Online media are comparatively free of governmental control insofar as the internet cannot be effectively policed by terrestrial authorities. The scope of Malaysian and Singaporean reactions occur mostly in the realm of civil society and its existence within the nebulous political space for co-operation and confrontation between the government and them.

Democratization as Drama Democratization’s starting point is of course the conceptualization of politics. Murray Edelman’s work on political communication refers us to the need to comprehend the political as an orchestration of meaning. One can describe political institutions and persons as performing this role or that, crushing an uprising or overseeing the passage of a bill in parliament. But these are often not simply carried out by a raw form of physical power. These political actions are possible because political agents ‘acquire and lose followings’ and act within contexts of language and visual scenery.4 Alexis de Tocqueville, a widely cited nineteenth-century philosopher of democracy, argued that participation in a robust democracy was dependent upon the protection and regard for untrammelled individual freedoms. These individual freedoms ought to be allowed to exhibit both their excesses and virtues. In pondering, for instance, the question of the equality of sexes under democratic conditions, he felt that the best way to curb the vices of premature attitudes, ill-restrained tastes and other socially undesirable indulgences, was to educate women in ‘the art of combating those passions for herself ’.5 Leaving aside the question of de Tocqueville’s male chauvinism for the purposes of this chapter, it ought to be noted that this comment on educating women was entirely consistent with his admiration for the intellectual drive that lay behind the nineteenthcentury American pioneer settlements. The American democrat was, in short, a homeostatic, self-made political actor, ‘a highly civilized being, who consents for a time to inhabit the back-woods, and who penetrates into the wilds of the New World with the Bible, an axe, and a file of newspapers’.6 Ideally, democratic public opinion joins general knowledge of the physical world to moral education.

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Democratization can then be comprehended as a political drama involving the contending definitions of democracy in their procedural and substantive dimensions. As Whitehead points out, the democratic characteristics of any political system require recognition of rules, roles and the ritual of affirming and re-affirming choices of representatives.7 Citizens should enjoy the right of expression without severe political retribution from the government of the day. Moreover, citizens ought to enjoy the incontestable right to form associations to participate in politics. Whitehead elaborates that democratization, or the process of becoming more democratic, and culminating in a fully fledged democracy, is best understood through ‘interpretivist’ approaches.8 The latter simply refers to democratization as a process that evolves according to what the emotional and psychological characteristics of political agents make of it. In acknowledging a long interpretivist tradition of elaborating deliberative democracy from Aristotle to Martha Nussbaum, Whitehead suggests that democratization ought to be studied in policy-relevant dimensions in terms of public rationalities that deal with bridging incommensurable values, emotions and imagination, and the utility of validating claims generated by literary constructions of fear and sympathy.9 These are issues familiar to both the professional and amateur alike who make a living by performing on a stage. But in practising democratization in the era of the information technology revolution, the individual is even more empowered and confronted with electronically facilitated possibilities for argument, reflection through juxtaposed themes and even more contestation of what democratization means.10 The French Revolutions of 1789 and 1871 suffered their ‘Thermidorean reactions’ and so would the revolutions of the Arab uprisings under some other name.

Electronic Vicariousness and Democratic Empathy From one direction, the formation of the internet was based on a military need to sustain communications regardless of modern war, nuclear or otherwise. The network of networks of computers was intended to function even when some of its nodes were physically destroyed. The administrative centre of such a network was not resident in a single computer, it was polycentric from its very conception; the presence of many centres ensured maximum survivability of communication. From



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another direction, the internet was a direct descendant of the academic experiment with ‘bulletin boards’, meant to foster collaboration and maintain updates to existing scientific work across distances and departments. Although the electronic spaces along the channels ‘webbing’ the internet together have been collectively dubbed cyberspace, in clear reference to the ‘cybernetic’ nature of computer-mediated communication initiating feedback through dialogue, the implications of living in, or with, cyberspace are still unfolding with ever-increasing complexity. Some scholars have described cyberspace as a series of online social spaces that encourage interaction without physical dimensions, extra-corporeal experiences and the ability to participate in a global mediatized village as avatars.11 The latter phrase refers to one’s ability to assume multiple identities and therefore ‘reconfigure’ oneself as something more than a human being confined to one’s physical territory.12 Political blogs, alternative news sites, social networking sites, along with the round-the-clock web, satellite and cable ‘global coverage’ offered by BBC TV, CNN, Al-Jazeera, CCTV, Russia Today and France 24, are democratizing media in terms of supplying their audiences with vicariousness. This is an ‘electronic vicariousness’ that refers to the ability of distant audiences to experience an imagined participation through the sights and sounds of local politics. Democratization will supply the script of its own drama – the stirring visual and ideological plots of mass righteous indignation at injustices provoking demonstrations; the prominent faces of the movement articulating both their images and their speeches; the catchphrases, slogans and condensed symbols of freedom and so forth. Electronic vicariousness allows the audience to experience through remote imagination a form of politics they may not encounter at home.13 It is just as well that democratization tends to unfold against some very dramatic milestones such as the public shaming of a supreme leader or an entrenched elite; the people occupying the streets in an act of alternative political ordering; and the palpable projected thrill of physical destruction of artefacts associated with a discredited government. These forms of emotional channelling act as a subtler and potentially far more psychologically impactful innovation than the traditional foreign policy strategy of ‘exporting democracy’.14 Electronic vicariousness – once coupled to serious intellectual exercise – provokes democratic empathy. The latter refers to the ability to assign meanings filtered through one’s local contexts to some desirable

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understanding of democratization. In the exercise of democratic empathy, the identification with distant persons and events is positive because their struggles express both an instrumental possibility for positive change and a sensation of spiritual liberation. Democratic empathy translates into meaning for social action only when it manifests as a series of ‘frames’, or themes, codes and buzzwords that supply instantly consensual and universalizable meanings.15 In the case of Malaysia and Singapore, electronic vicariousness has acted to elicit frames of democratic empathy mostly among the civil society segments of the population. Therefore, electronic vicariousness and democratic empathy ought to be comprehended through the interpretation of the discursive imagination of blogs on Facebook, Twitter and other social exchange websites given the hegemonic nature of party-based democracies in the two countries under study. Discourse analysis has therefore to be resorted to in order to fulfil the aims of this chapter.

Framing the Arab Spring into the Malaysia Spring and Singapore Spring? The Malaysia and Singapore ‘uprisings’ have been heavily abridged in the intellectual and political propagandas both online and offline. For the most part, these remain as online aspirations and, at best, partially realized projects. The delicacy of importing and implementing the Arab uprisings in toto is exemplified by this representative sample of a political risk intelligence report by a Singapore-based trading consortium. Their news website, YourVietnamExpert, is described as a division of the Saigon Business Corporation Private Limited, which has been incorporated in Singapore since 1994. ‘When will the “Malaysia Spring” be? The next elections,’ said Malaysian opposition leader Anwar Ibrahim, answering his own question during a recent media interview. The reference was to the ‘Arab Spring’, a pro-democracy movement that has brought down several authoritarian governments in the Arab world this year. Malaysia has witnessed important political changes since 2008, when voters denied the ruling national front coalition



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government its traditional two-thirds majority in parliament. Just last month, Prime Minister Najib Razak announced his intention to lift curbs on the media and repeal two controversial security laws … The idea that Malaysia – and Southeast Asia in general – is experiencing profound political change is certainly beguiling. Elections in Singapore in May saw opposition parties make landmark gains. And in July, a political party supporting former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra was elected to power in Thailand despite strong opposition from the conservative forces that backed his ouster in a military coup in 2006. Meanwhile, a military-backed government in Myanmar has recently freed hundreds of political prisoners, postponed construction of a controversial dam and showed signs of renewing dialogue with pro-democracy icon Aung San Suu Kyi. Datuk Seri Anwar’s attempt to link recent developments in the Arab world with events in Malaysia may be self-serving. But he is not the only one to have made the connection. Several other government critics have seen the recent reforms announced by (Prime Minister) Najib in a similar light. Datuk Ambiga Sreenevasan, a member of the executive committee of Hakam, a human rights organization founded by two former prime ministers, commented: ‘I think they [the government] freaked out because of the Arab Spring happening at the same time.’ Foreign commentators have made a similar point. Writing in the Business Standard (an Indian daily newspaper) on 7 November, former Pakistani finance minister Shahid Javed Burki said he believed that Malaysia, together with Indonesia and Pakistan, formed part of a group of non-Arab Muslim-majority countries outside the Middle East likely to be influenced by developments in the Arab world. A closer look at the situation in Southeast Asia, however, suggests that such statements need to be treated with caution. The fact that many important political changes in the region predate the Arab Spring certainly makes it difficult to argue that opposition groups have taken their cue from it. Unlike their Arab counterparts, Southeast Asians do not share a single language or religion that could facilitate communication

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and co-operation among opposition groups. And while countries such as Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia and the Philippines may have their shortcomings, they are far more democratic than those in the Middle East. They are certainly less inclined to use the sort of deadly force that triggered many of the uprisings in the Arab world.16 Several frames are noteworthy – they are deliberately printed in italics above – in anticipation of their utility for further analysis in the remainder of this chapter: pro-democracy movements bringing down several authoritarian governments; profound political change; opposition groups making inroads into authoritarian spaces; the example of the Arab uprisings as a mass grassroots revolt; Muslim-majority populations in distinction to multicultural Asian contexts. Before this chapter performs a survey of the largely web-based discussions of the impact of the Arab uprisings on Malaysia, a quick survey of the trajectory of ‘authoritarian democracy’ in the country is required to set the context. Following that, a comparable sketch of the Singaporean political context will be done prior to analysing the impact of the Arab uprisings upon that country’s population.

Malaysia’s Seemingly Resilient Elite Democracy Malaysia’s struggle for independence from its colonial master – Britain – from the mid-1940s to the 1950s was patterned within an elitist framework that consequently reproduced a hegemonic party democracy; since 1955, federal elections were regularly won by the same governing coalition. In the 1930s, it was the Islamic youth and Malay religious scholars who spearheaded the nascent Malay nationalist groups. At the same time, the traditional Malay royalty had been co-opted by the British as nominal ‘rulers’ within the British Empire, and subsequently, the Japanese followed the same arrangement during the latter’s occupation of Malaya during World War II.17 The two largest migrant groups, the Chinese and Indians, who had been introduced to Malaya by British colonial policies, saw their nationalism motivated initially by events in their ancestral homelands rather than in Malaya. Even then, Chinese and Indian nationalisms in



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Malaya were also helmed by elites who were either persons of considerable wealth derived from trade, mining, agriculture or financial activities, or individuals connected with the main nationalist circles operating covertly in Manchu China and openly in British India. The Japanese Occupation of 1942–5 served as a further catalyst for these diverse nationalisms, when the Occupation authorities deliberately cultivated and armed the Malays and Indians while repressing the Chinese in line with racist Japanese policies in mainland China.18 Following the end of World War II, the 1946 Malayan Union proposal ultimately provoked the formalization of nationalism in Malaya, where all three ethnicities had to confront the question of citizenship qualifications within a potentially self-governing Malaya. The British had sprung the Malayan Union plan upon their colonial subjects under the mistaken belief that administrative consolidation of their renewed empire was necessary by placing the whole of Malaya under a single sovereign governorship that dispensed with the fiction of consulting the nominally ruling Malay royalty. Moreover, the Malayan Union proposal overtly raised the question of inclusion in a future Malayan nation.19 Racial tensions had been stoked under British rule but had been mitigated by the policy of ‘divide and rule’. The Japanese had of course exacerbated tensions with their overtly anti-Chinese policies. The onset of peace in 1945 had opened up a window of opportunity for a largely Chinese communist guerrilla organization to settle scores with Malay collaborators of the Occupation. The Malayan Union merely heightened these tensions over the question of citizenship. The British renegotiated the Malayan Union primarily with the largest Malay nationalist organization, the United Malays National Organization (UMNO), while marginalizing the other races who were less organized politically, regarded as leftist parties (such as the Malayan Democratic Union), or regarded as religiously motivated parties (such as the Parti Islam se Malaysia, or PAS) out of step with the mainstream racial logic of politics. UMNO eventually succeeded in convincing the British that the Malays – defined as such through proficiency in the language Bahasa Melayu, the practice of Malay customs and adherence to Islam – should be constitutionally protected as primus inter pares in the constitution. By the time the new Federation of Malaya was inaugurated in 1948, and independence promulgated in August 1957, the Chinese in Malaya had split into two representative organizations: the Malayan

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Chinese Association (subsequently Malaysian Chinese Association, or MCA) headed by wealthy local-born Chinese businessmen and Malayan-born Chinese civic leaders sympathetic to the Guomindang (Republican and anti-communist) cause in the Chinese Civil War; and the communist guerrillas grouped under the Communist Party of Malaya and its armed wing.20 As for the Indians, the Malayan Indian Congress (subsequently Malaysian Indian Congress, or MIC) was actually formed in tandem with events in India in the late 1940s, but refocused its agenda on Indians in Malaya once India gained independence in 1947. Initially, it favoured a non-racial political culture but quickly realized that such a ‘quixotic’ agenda would not deliver electoral popularity after the UMNO and MCA demonstrated the success of ethnic politics in garnering votes.21 In 1954, the UMNO, MCA and MIC formed the ‘Alliance’ to contest the federal elections the following year, which would decide the government that would hold the reins of power in an independent Malaya. Subsequently, in the 1970s, the ‘Alliance’ was renamed the Barisan Nasional (BN, or National Front) when it was joined by a number of smaller parties who ‘bandwagoned’ for electoral gain. Two points emerge from this historical narrative. Firstly, nationalist movements that had transformed into formalized political parties that won elections and formed the elected governments of Malaya, and subsequently Malaysia, were helmed by elites and would remain so till the present in spite of internecine frictions amongst themselves. Secondly, the elites heading these BN parties could claim that ethnically delineated politics would both remain a permanent feature of the political landscape and laden with fissiparous implications for social peace.22 The dangers of ditching the ethnic system of ‘consociational’ bargaining within a BN electoral majority could be wielded as a political weapon against opposition parties and civil society groups propounding a non-communal vision of reformed politics.23 The attributed dangers of inter-ethnic violence were dramatically fleshed out by large-scale racial riots in 1964 and 1969, and the heightened racial tensions that inevitably surfaced in just about every Malaysian federal election. In 2000 and 2007, there were incidents between Malays and Indians in and around Kuala Lumpur, the capital, which bordered on rioting. These riots and incidents constituted valid empirical proof that ethnic politics were destined to prevail forever in Malaysia, insofar



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as one was prepared not to contemplate the theoretical alternative of multiracially constituted political parties in Malaysia. The situation of BN-majority governments tolerating a marginal opposition presence of 20–30 per cent of the popular vote served to fix Malaysian politics within the mould of a dominant party democracy, loosely analogous to the position of the People’s Action Party (PAP) in neighbouring Singapore, the Golkar Party under President Suharto in Indonesia and the dominance of the Liberal Democratic Party of Japan for most of Japan’s postwar political history. The dangers of ethnic politics outside the framework of a BN government served as a touchstone of political common sense for the regularly large majorities garnered by the BN parties at elections.24 As a corollary, the UMNO could always appeal to the Malay masses through the defensive argument of protecting Malay privileges won at independence. These logics, in tandem with the BN’s ability to play the card of a populist mandate, enabled UMNO leaders, who invariably occupied the prime minister’s position in every cabinet since independence, to weather crises of intra-coalition and intra-UMNO rivalries and yet retain the BN’s whopping electoral majorities.25 In the 1980s, there were several challenges mounted against the charismatic authoritarian leadership of Prime Minister Mahathir bin Mohamad – Malaysia’s longest-serving premier – by Islamic fundamentalists plotting armed revolt, royalty asserting their privileges, and allegations of corruption within the BN-appointed judiciary. But the Mahathir Administration survived them all and even earned public approbation by securing more than 80 per cent of the popular vote in elections in 1982, 1986 and 1995. It helped that the Malaysian Constitution and statutes contained instruments such as the Internal Security Act, which Mahathir had used more than once during his premiership from 1981 to 2003, and the BN’s component parties strategically controlled a large number of traditional media outlets such as television, radio and newspapers in tandem with significant corporate ownership in the energy, transportation, telecommunications and construction industries.26 Patronage networks seemed to have grown in tandem with the exportoriented economic strategy pursued under Mahathir’s premiership even though most of these links had been seeded under earlier BN governments. Nonetheless, economic growth rates supported BN’s soft authoritarian methods and attracted foreign investment in prestige projects such as the national car (Proton), the Multimedia Super Corridor, and assorted

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infrastructural works such as dams and airports. Additionally, Malaysian territorial waters contained oil reserves which catapulted the country into oil-producer status. The BN’s hegemonic standing also fended off the recurring corruption allegations lodged against both serving and exministers and BN members of parliament. The 1997–8 Asian Financial Crisis served as another major test of elite politics. Speculative attacks eroded not only the national currency, but also the sanctity of the patronage system behind Malaysian political economy. Foreign investors voted with their feet. Mahathir’s reaction was to avoid International Monetary Fund (IMF) offers of tutelage altogether in order to ‘save the system’. His administration selectively consolidated debt-ridden companies, imposed capital controls and fixed the exchange rate of the Ringgit to the US dollar. He went as far as to scapegoat Jewish conspirators and hedge funds – such as George Soros’s – and the immorality of his erstwhile deputy premier, Anwar Ibrahim, whom Mahathir had co-opted from an increasingly radical Islamic youth movement and designated as heir. Mahathir’s UMNO also shrewdly capitalized on Malaysian Chinese fears that a descent into Indonesianstyle populist attacks on Chinese businesses in the midst of economic turmoil would be avoided only with Mahathir firmly in charge.27 Mahathir’s foreign policy of blaming the West, Israel and the parasitical economic practices of neighbouring Singapore, where necessary, served to shore up support for the BN. During the 1980s, Mahathir’s administration had even deftly outmanoeuvred the increased Islamic fervour emanating from the Middle East by attempting to ‘out-Islam’ the UMNO’s traditional pro-Malay rival, the PAS party, by declaring Malaysia an Islamic country and supporting increasingly Islamic practices in public life. The foreign policy of welcoming Arab investment and tourists helped domestically as well, and helpfully kept Arab monies flowing into the country while publicly soft-pedalling an already arms-length policy of co-operating with George W. Bush’s ‘war on terror’. Interestingly, the 2008 general elections reduced the BN’s electoral majority to just under two-thirds, signifying an unprecedented groundswell of discontent. The 2008 polls had taken place under the shadow of a general recession, the ‘re-trial’ of the charismatic BN-critic Anwar Ibrahim, along with widely publicized dissatisfaction at a recurring round of corruption scandals involving political circles close to Mahathir’s immediate successor, Prime Minister Abdullah Ahmad Badawi, and Abdullah’s successor,



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Prime Minister Najib Tun Razak. All these dimmed the BN’s political fortunes.28 But it remains unclear if the BN would slide in its popularity further given ongoing weaknesses amongst the opposition parties in organizing a credible ‘Barisan Alternatif ’. It is against such a context that the Arab uprisings produced hints of political tremors against the BN’s authoritarian hold on Malaysian democracy.

Malaysian Spring? Civil Society Challenges BN on Human Rights and Clean Elections The increased visibility of civil society stridency that began with the street demonstrations disapproving of the sacking of Anwar Ibrahim by the Mahathir Administration in 1998, continued through the Hindu Rights Action Force (HINDRAF) rally in central Kuala Lumpur in 2007, and the massive multi-ethnic and cross-party BERSIH 2.0 rally in July 2011. The latter represented a culmination of extra-parliamentary dissent against BN authoritarianism. In 1998, Anwar was widely perceived to have been sacked for correctly attributing the cause of Malaysia’s economic woes to capitalist cronyism and corrupt ethnic politics practised by the BN, as well as Mahathir himself. The trial and ‘retrial’ of Anwar focused on charges of sodomy and other homosexual behaviour in a blatant attempt to demonize a fallen supporter of the BN system. This stretched credibility in the eyes of Malaysian civil society as well as of Anwar’s supporters. Taking to the streets in September 1998 was a way of signalling to the BN that there was a groundswell of dissatisfaction with their authoritarian excesses. The BERSIH (meaning ‘clean’ in Malay) campaign was started in 2007 by opposition politicians protesting against abuses such as bribes, the fixing of the electoral roll, intimidation, skewed publicity and forms of ‘money politics’. By July 2011, non-governmental organizations (NGOs) concerned with governmental transparency and legality had joined forces with the opposition to compel change. It was just as well that the Pakatan Rakyat coalition of opposition parties and Anwar’s supporters chose to bandwagon with NGOs to posit a collective voice of conscience against the BN government. Elements of civil society were also concerned that Premier Najib, who was not convincingly cleared of charges of complicity in the murder of a Mongolian model involved

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in brokering an overseas arms deal, might be aggressively pursuing a no-holds-barred campaign to restore the electoral fortunes of the BN following the erosion of its parliamentary majority in the 2008 elections. From the perspective of the BN, BERSIH 2.0’s rally in Kuala Lumpur in July 2011 was treated as a major opposition operation to unseat its authority through street demonstrations, notwithstanding BERSIH 2.0 organizers’ claims that they were marching peacefully to rally at a central stadium in Kuala Lumpur. The main spokesperson for BERSIH 2.0, Ambiga Sreenivasan, repeatedly claimed that Premier Najib feared BERSIH was a clear attempt to import the Arab uprisings model into a campaign to subvert the BN.29 The HINDRAF Rally of 2007 was in turn a culmination of a ‘cry of anguish’ against the systematic discrimination against Malaysian Indians since independence in the economy, the education system and in the sphere of religious freedoms. The HINDRAF campaign, which has since been outlawed, and its leaders arrested and charged, was triggered by a series of officially tolerated attacks on Hindus and the demolition of Hindu temples. The Arab uprisings analogy weaves itself into the thrust of the demand for change through the attacks on an entire system of corruption and authoritarianism. Uploaded videos on both YouTube and the alternative Malaysian news site, Malaysiakini, regularly feature massed spectacles of yellow-shirted, orange-shirted or other uniformed protestors occupying the vehicular lanes of an entire street under the all-encompassing caption of an ‘Arab Uprising?’. The question mark spoke volumes about civil society’s desire for change. A pointed article by an activist reporter drew a direct analogy between Premier Najib and Muammar Gaddafi, and in the process, quoted a former US ambassador approvingly in drawing the analogy: To some, the rally may have been Malaysia’s own first mini-Arab Spring and it was not impossible that Prime Minister Najib Razak would not clamp down on future protests with military or even police rule just like the Middle Eastern despots had done so, but to little avail. ‘Malaysia is certainly not Libya or Syria or Yemen. Najib is not a Qaddafi. But still, I was surprised to see that Najib is still saying that the BERSIH movement is a veiled attempt to topple his administration through street demonstrations, like those that



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are now claiming Middle Eastern despots,’ former US ambassador to Malaysia John Malott told Malaysia Chronicle in an interview. ‘Well, if that is BERSIH’s goal, then why did Najib act like an Arab Spring government? It’s only a question of degree. The Malaysian police did not use lethal force, but the mentality is the same. Suppress whoever disagrees with you. Maybe you don’t use tanks, but you use water cannon. It’s not bullets, it’s tear gas. But the authoritarian mindset is exactly the same as the leaders of the Arab Spring governments. Just because you use non-lethal force doesn’t mean it’s OK.’30 In their comments to the media, the leaders of HINDRAF and BERSIH, and Anwar Ibrahim himself, exercised great care in casting themselves as crusaders for the downtrodden and victims of structural injustice, unlike Premier Najib and his BN ministers. All of the former made light of the fact that they were concerned citizens acting to warn both the public and the BN government that their Malaysian homeland was under internal siege by nefarious political elites who were interested in protecting their vested interests under the guise of racial insecurities and national unity slogans. Ambiga Sreenivasan of BERSIH 2.0 depicted her public leadership of the victims of injustice very much through the framework of Martin Luther King and Mahatma Gandhi, even if she did not spell it out explicitly.31 The movement represented the true democrats utilizing the constitutional provisions for public assembly for rightful protest against an unjust ruling coalition. In this regard, peaceful marches and the non-violent disruption of traffic in central Kuala Lumpur were moral weapons that ought to be seen and filmed in order to be effective in a propaganda war against the BN government. On Malaysiakini, a number of concerned netizens who were sympathetic to the civil society platform for reform were themselves conflicted over whether Mahathir, Najib and their ministers ought to be brought before a commission of inquiry to account for their unjustifiable wealth. A few even voiced the caution that the Arab uprisings occurred in contexts of ethnic homogeneity, whereas imputed Malaysian uprisings would have to contend with a multi-ethnic, multi-religious society where ‘everyone’ seemed united in opposing BN corruption. This final excerpt is revealing of the self-doubt plaguing any direct and emotionally inspired translation of the Arab Spring into the Malaysian Spring.

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Pemerhati: Dr Mahathir Mohamad, who was allowed to become a Malay by the constitution, played the race and religious card to the hilt to fool the Malays so as to remain in power and rob the country blind. During his 22-year premiership, he set up a system of governance which according to the 2008 Auditor General’s Report resulted in estimated losses as high as RM28 billion due to corruption. By 2011, they are likely to be significantly higher and could have reached the RM40–50 billion figure. Add to this the crooked deals by the top BN people [that] the AG does not get to audit (like Mahathir’s crooked 30% IPP deal and kickbacks on contracts and purchases), the total 2011 losses due to corruption could be in the RM50–60 billion range. Malaysia’s 2011 budget figures state that the total revenue for 2011 was RM183 billion. That means that BN and their cohorts are stealing about a third of the country’s revenue, thanks to a system set in place by Mahathir. Knowing all this, are the Malays still going to vote for BN? Malaysian Born: Dr M is actually right, Malaysia is not a candidate for an Arab Spring-type revolt. This does not mean that there will not be large rallies and that the people will defy the government attempts to suppress their efforts to get the message across. In Malaysia, we do not have the poverty and inequalities like in certain parts of the Arab world. But we do have enough problems that need to be addressed. Mahathir would not survive in today’s environment – his mouth would have caused terminal uproar and the social media would have neutered him, and he would have used the ISA on everyone, including the tea ladies.



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Mirror on the Wall: The Arab Spring was only possible because of the homogeneity of societies there. We, however much we would like to believe it to be so, are simply a plural society. The only thing keeping us together is our total dislike for the BN. I doubt if this force is sufficient enough to lead to an Arab Spring in Malaysia. I hope I am wrong. Rick Teo: Don’t be so sure that the Arab Spring will not reach Malaysia. Mahathir was lucky to step down, if not he would have been kicked out by our Malaysian uprisings. But the job is not done yet. When Pakatan Rakyat takes over Putrajaya, we want Mahathir and all UMNO ministers to account where and how they have accumulated their wealth. We want them and their family to account for every cent they have taken from the country or they will go to prison. Anonymous: VV: Let Anwar Ibrahim be PM for one term and let us see what he can do for Malaysia. If he and his coalition can do well for the ‘rakyat’ [the people], then let him continue, otherwise the people can always vote BN back. Cala: Mahathir’s view is erroneous. Strictly speaking, he is talking as an interested party, one who has enormous interests through his years of efforts in promoting cronyism and rent-seeking activities as prime minister of 22 years. While he and cohorts continue to enjoy their ‘hard fought’ wealth, naturally he preferred stability/status quo over everything else. If change is something inevitable where listening to the ‘rakyat’ takes precedence, he wishes that it is more evolutionary than evolutionary in nature. But by looking at the way Najib dishes out concessionary measures one after another for fear of losing in the coming GE, it points to an ailing regime fighting for survival. Indeed, Mahathir is in denial.

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Anticommunalist: The fact that the term ‘Arab Spring’ is now openly being mentioned at the UMNO AGM as well as by Dr M, and knowing how well-informed the regime’s Special Branch intelligence officers [are] on the ground, one can safely deduce that the government is very well aware that the chances of an ‘Arab Spring’ threat happening in Malaysia is becoming more and more of a reality.32 The template of the Arab Spring appears to fit the Malaysian context, but its advocates sound caution over hasty revolutions by acknowledging that there is still an electoral avenue for engineering change and accountability. The BN government reacted with a mixture of mild liberalization and defiance. Firstly, it scrapped the Internal Security Act and relaxed the law on peaceful public assembly by allowing organizers to notify police ten days prior to the event. Secondly, the BN government reminded Malaysians that public security could still be ensured through other statutes. Moreover, Prime Minister Najib warned his UMNO grassroots faithful that the opposition was threatening the racial compact that had preserved Malay political dominance since the 1950s. Thirdly, Najib’s Administration seemingly allowed the judiciary to act ‘autonomously’ in late 2011 in dismissing Anwar’s third retrial on the basis of insubstantial evidence. These moves serve to accentuate the uncomfortable fit between the Arab Spring and the much-speculated Malaysia Spring, even as activists were ‘hopeful’ that some uprisings of change might happen soon in tandem with the winds blowing from the Middle East. In a postscript, the political opposition and the pro-reform NGOs staged the dramatic BERSIH 3.0 rallies in the prelude to the May 2013 General Elections. The rally organizers called on all Malaysians to actively report electoral fraud. In any case, Anwar Ibrahim and the rest of the opposition Pakatan Rakyat coalition notched up a few incremental electoral victories and persuaded many Malaysians to desert BN at the polls. Yet the BN scraped through to win a mere 48 per cent of the popular vote while holding on to 133 of the 222 seats in parliament amidst widespread allegations of vote tampering and registration of phantom voters. A final piece of the BN’s pre-emption against any Malaysia Spring came in the post-election cabinet line-up: the BN had co-opted six independents, including a member of HINDRAF, an associate of the BERSIH movement.



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Singapore: Controlled Democracy and Its Civil Society Challengers Singapore’s democracy is best described as controlled. The origins of Singapore’s struggle for independence tracked largely the Malaysian experience of ingrained elitism. The British colonial authorities had practised their standard formula of government through divide-and-rule upon the island’s races. The Chinese were ‘ruled’ initially by their own ‘representative’, under British tolerance. The Malays were protected under the compact established when Thomas Stamford Raffles acquired the island for the trading post from the Malay potentates in the Johore and Riau regions. The Indians in Singapore were largely governed directly by the British since the vast majority were introduced to Singapore via the import of ‘convict labour’ from the British crown colony in India. Understandably, the respective nationalisms were fissiparous in nature, preferring to orient themselves to the ‘motherlands’ of China, Malaya and India. Singaporean nationalism was a largely post-World War II creation, when the British decided to enforce the administrative separation of Singapore from Malaya under the Malayan Union plan of 1946 mentioned earlier. Singaporeans had to choose which citizenship they would wish to qualify for, since Singapore was constitutionally destined to be distinct from Malaya. Even the subsequent Federation of Malaya and its constitutional momentum towards independence in 1957 evidently excluded the island’s residents from national self-determination. Psychologically and culturally, Singapore’s Chinese, Malay and Indian intelligentsia, having attained some degree of educational advancement under British education policies, could not remain content with indefinite British rule.33 Even though Singapore lagged behind Malaya, the British enacted an experiment with democracy in the form of the Singapore Legislative Assembly, comprising largely nominated representatives, with a minority of seats opened up for electoral contestation. The early political parties of the 1950s were hardly inclusive of the ordinary man in the street. Instead, the early parties, such as the People’s Progressive Party, comprised lawyers of Chinese, Indian and Eurasian descent who were beneficiaries of British rule. The same could also be said of the socialist-leaning Labour Front which supplied the first two chief ministers of a self-governing Singapore while under British oversight

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in foreign affairs and defence. Lee Kuan Yew, S. Rajaratnam and Goh Keng Swee, who were the principal founders of the People’s Action Party (PAP), were also educated in the elite disciplines in the UK: law, politics and economics.34 Yet, on the ground, among the blue-collared workforces in the factories, dockyards, schools and public transportation lines, there existed plenty of financial and social grievances against colonial economic policies. These were deftly exploited for nationalist mobilization. The Singapore Communists, who were a direct extension of the Communist Party of Malaya, were the most serious contender for grassroots support until the PAP attempted to compete for blue-collar loyalties. Then there were the ethno-religious fissures that mirrored the Malayan demography: Chinese and Indian alienation from the Malays during both British and Japanese colonialisms. It seemed that only the elites operating at the summit of the political parties most able to penetrate the grassroots in a co-ordinated manner could hope to represent Singapore effectively in bargaining with the British for independence. The PAP occupied a pre-eminent position in this regard by temporarily allying with the Communists in the elections provided for under the self-governing plans negotiated with the British. These plans were agreed upon between the British and all-party delegations formed by political parties across the spectrum in Singapore. After the British formally granted self-government in 1959, it was inevitable that the PAP had to face down their erstwhile Communist allies over the final milestones towards independence. All this while, ordinary citizens were prone to racial blandishments from Malay-dominant political parties in Malaya, while the Chinese population of Singapore seemed to be easily incited by Communist agitators associated with the CPM, along with propaganda from the new Communist government in Beijing. The Indians mostly realized that a ‘democratic socialist’ and multiracial PAP was their best hope. Understandably, when the PAP leaders sought inclusion in the Malaysian Federation between 1961 and 1963, they had to outflank the Communists as well as those advocating a form of racial politics patterned on Malaya’s. As time passed, the PAP’s vision of a democratic, socialist, multiracial Singapore, without prioritizing political rights for one ethnic community, gained the upper hand vis-à-vis its rivals over the course of several



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elections in Malaysia, and out of Malaysia. The merger with Malaysia saw the PAP alienated from the ‘Alliance’ parties holding sway in Kuala Lumpur, since the former refused to conform to the dominant pattern of monoracial political parties. In fact, a major racial riot occurred in 1964 as a direct result of such political dissonance between the PAP and the ‘Alliance’ parties. The PAP agenda particularly incensed UMNO, who accused the PAP of behaving in a recalcitrant manner despite representing a mere constituent state within a large federation. The Malaysian Chinese Association (MCA), a senior component party of the ‘Alliance’, also accused the PAP of attempting to poach its Chinese constituency and wreck Malaysia through its radical approach to race relations.35 Therefore, the democracy that evolved from August 1965 onwards within a fully independent Republic of Singapore, ‘ejected’ from Malaysia, was officially articulated by the PAP as being permanently vulnerable to the ‘intermestic’ threats of ethno-religious tension and the alienation of grassroots concerns on quality of living issues.36 In Singapore, the Communists were a largely spent force by 1968, when the PAP managed to secure the grassroots for itself with the institution of the People’s Association network of citizens’ committees and community centres, which served as conduits for listening and responding to complaints from the ground while also delivering recreational and welfare services. In many ways, the People’s Association substituted for the desire for civil society in the first three decades of Singapore’s independence.37

Singapore Spring? A survey of most Singaporean opinion websites and Singapore-focused media reports suggests a certain naïveté to local reactions to the Arab uprisings. In fact, the level of disparity of knowledge and sophistication in applying lessons from the Arab uprisings is startling when one compares Singapore with Malaysia. An editorial in the London-based Financial Times facetiously examined the nature of political change in Singapore in 2011 under the heading ‘When the Singapore Sling meets the Arab Spring’. The backlash against the ruling PAP in both the general and presidential elections in 2011 was explained as a conservative voter’s protest against ‘a government placing too much faith in free-market

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liberalism’.38 More curiously, the closest entry in the much-visited Singaporean alternative news blog theonlinecitizen.com mentioned the Arab Spring only in the train of advertising a talk organized by a local NGO aimed at enlightening Singaporeans on the impact of the Occupy Wall Street movement. The amateurish tone of this appeal deserves quotation here as an illustration of voter conservatism in the Republic: [The NGO] MARUAH has put together a public forum, as part of our focus on seeking a rights-based approach on issues that matter. The importance of such global issues should not be underestimated. As global citizens, it is our role to understand the phenomenon sparked off by popular uprisings in Egypt and Tunisia, the ‘Arab Spring’ of 2011.39 Similar degrees of disconnection from the Arab uprisings are evident on another popular site for venting citizens’ complaints against politicians: the Yahoo.com.sg news section. When the events of Tahrir Square hogged the world’s news headlines in February 2011, Yahoo users seized the opportunity to vent their complaints about PAP arrogance and incompetence in controlling runaway inflation, property prices and competition from foreigners for local jobs without even considering any deeper connection with the Middle East. One Yahoo user even commented that Singaporeans could at least punish the PAP through the peaceful channel of the ballot box instead of ruining investor confidence and public order by taking to the streets. Yahoo! News itself reprinted a Reuters-supplied editorial that headlined a ‘summer of change in Southeast Asia, but no Arab Spring’, suggesting that the slide in votes for the PAP was the wind of change in itself, propelled by voters’ ‘anger over surging prices and immigration’.40 Although one cannot directly ascribe a Singapore Spring that is analogous to the Arab Spring, or to the aspiration towards a Malaysia Spring, the increasingly visible ground-up pressures for a reckoning with globalization are manifesting as a multifaceted civil society clamour for liberalization and governmental responsiveness. In the Singapore context, globalization should be understood as a condition of borderless competition for jobs, housing, protected living spaces, educational opportunities and opportunities for practising creativity through borderless information and communication technologies.



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Firstly, Singaporean society has increasingly experienced the pressures of allowing the entry of unchecked numbers of foreign workers of varying skill levels for boosting economic growth. Although the latest population census reported that nearly two out of every five residents on the island are foreigners with permanent residency status or work permits,41 the public perception overwhelmingly regards foreigners as economic and social threats. Their acquisitions of housing properties and rented accommodation are perceived as exerting a sharp upward pull on the overall costs of residential housing through a multiplier effect. Yet, in statistical terms, foreign home-buyers comprise 22–30 per cent of total housing sales every month.42 Competition for jobs has also been politicized largely by perceptions, in the absence of clearer statistics, and by the salience of publicized claims that foreign firms based in Singapore, as well as some local firms, have repeatedly hired foreign nationals over Singaporeans amidst a worldwide recession from 2008 to 2011.43 Just three years earlier, in 2008, the grassroots complaint among Serangoon Gardens residents over the building of foreign worker dormitories adjacent to a largely middle-class landed housing estate crystallized public unease over the PAP government’s stewardship of pro-globalization economic policies.44 Even Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong admitted during a live CNN interview that ‘if we had known how quickly the pace of change would accelerate and how much our people would be under pressure from globalization … we would have put even more resources in’.45 Mounting citizen complaints of overcrowding on Singapore’s busy motorways and mass rapid transit systems have compounded the impression that the fourth generation of PAP ministers has miscalculated the negative externalities of embracing untrammelled globalization. Secondly, large sections of civil society represented in parliament by Nominated Members of Parliament (NMPs), and outside parliament by widely read bloggers such as Mr Brown and Mr Miyagi, have questioned the PAP’s policies on gazetting websites as ‘political’ and circumscribing the circulation of political films online and offline. In 2009, the PAP government moved an amendment to the existing Films Act that proposed declassifying as ‘party political’ factual documentaries of political events, biographies, live recordings of events that are conducted within the terms of the law, as well as recordings (such as YouTube clips and podcasts) of any election candidate’s declaration of policies and

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party ideology. During a parliamentary debate on an amendment to this Act, NMP Siew Kum Hong argued that the amended Act was biased in favour of commercial licensed broadcasters whereas bystanders watching and recording a political speech or demonstration on their mobile phone may technically be prosecuted through sheer ignorance. Then Non-Constituency Member of Parliament from the opposition Worker’s Party, Sylvia Lim, chipped in to ask the government whether the PAP government was practising a double standard by allowing the blatantly anti-President Bush film Fahrenheit 9/11 to be screened in local cinemas while cautioning that some types of political films cannot be produced in Singapore.46 The Minister for Information, Communication and the Arts admitted that the internet-savvy younger generation needed more space for discourse and hence the amendments were to cater to this need in tandem with events elsewhere, but that such liberalization should not lead to society’s detriment and preserve a ‘serious and robust’ culture of political discourse – a clear reference to the elite-articulated security discourse of policing multiracialism and nation-building.47 As a sop to the voices of civil society, the Minister promised to make further changes to the Films Act when circumstances warranted. It was not a surprise that the PAP used its parliamentary majority to pass the amendments notwithstanding civil society protest. Thirdly, while the PAP has tried to foster a controlled climate of public political participation by removing the requirement for a police permit for speeches at a ‘Speakers’ Corner’ at Hong Lim Park in the centre of Singapore city, modelled partially after its London Hyde Park antecedent, civil society has pushed the boundaries time and again. Following the financial collapse of the Lehman Brothers bank in the United States, Lehman’s ‘minibond’ financial products followed the parent company into insolvency proceedings. This stranded 8,000 Singaporean investors of all walks of life ranging from salaried workers to retirees who had bought these products and sunk some S$376 million into them out of their life savings. This financial calamity stoked a spontaneous citizen movement headed by the ex-NTUC INCOME Insurance chairman and subsequently presidential hopeful, Tan Kin Lian, to mount the stand at Speakers’ Corner to publicly pressure Singapore-based banks to offer compensation. This succeeded in providing restitution to the tune of 64.5 per cent of investors’ losses almost a year later.48 The arrest of Aung San Suu Kyi in Myanmar in May 2009 and the staging of the BERSIH 2.0



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Rally in Kuala Lumpur in July 2011 also inspired solidarity vigils that were staged at Speakers’ Corner to tie symbolically external political causes to human rights awareness in Singapore. Local opposition politicians and NGOs such as the earlier-mentioned MARUAH were involved. In fact, the BERSIH 2.0 solidarity event was organized online via sites like the theonlinecitizen.com.sg and operated in a quietly festive atmosphere with the absence of speeches and attendees dressed in trademark yellow T-shirts. Two excerpts from The Online Citizen come closest to associating the silent demonstration with the Arab uprisings. First, the call to action was typically Singaporean in declaring respect for local law: A group of Malaysians who live and/or work in Singapore, identifying themselves as BERSIH 2.0 Singapore, are planning a gathering in Hong Lim Park today at 2 pm. Describing themselves as apolitical and non-partisan, they are calling for free and fair election[s] in Malaysia. They have said on their Facebook page that ‘we are guests in Singapore and have no wish to do anything that is not within the confines of Singapore law.’ There will most likely be no speeches or demonstrations in Hong Lim Park today. The sympathisers to the cause are being invited to turn up in yellow tops in a show of solidarity to lend support to their ‘fellow friends in KL (Kuala Lumpur)’. This activity which will mirror the rally planned in KL, is one of the many rallies planned in major locations worldwide.49 The second excerpt is a reaction to the BERSIH 2.0 call for solidarity, illustrating a certain level of vicariousness in accepting the legitimacy of a foreign solidarity event on Singaporean soil: If we are to look at the whole episode objectively, people are not in the wrong in the Arab Spring and Thailand’s red shirt revolt. If governments are not just they will destabilise societies. Street demonstrations are only the symptoms not cause of revolt. Solution? Government must change.50 Thus far, the PAP government appears rather tolerant of these ‘intermestic demonstrations’, probably because they have adhered strictly to the

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legal etiquette at Hong Lim Park. However, as shown by its actions in 2006, during the simultaneous World Bank (WB) and International Monetary Fund (IMF) meetings in 2006, the PAP government will remain authoritarian when necessary. In 2006, the authorities barred 27 transnational civil society activists from the country on grounds of maintaining law and order. This prompted a number of WB officials including the Bank’s erstwhile president, Paul Wolfowitz, to publicly castigate the Singapore authorities. The WB argued that ‘accredited’ civil society campaigners ought to be let into the meeting venues in the spirit of constructive dialogue. The PAP government retorted that the 27 names on the blacklist had chalked up records of disruptive activities elsewhere. Although Singapore backed down and offered entry to 22 out of the 27 on the blacklist, Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong remained unapologetic about his understanding of the need to be pre-emptive about public security, arguing that he did not mind anybody ‘coming to have a dialogue, debate, conversation’ but he did not understand why his government should allow a repeat of riots in Prague in 2000 or in Hong Kong in 2005 when major summits of world leaders last convened prior to the Singapore IMF-World Bank events. ‘That’s not democracy,’ Lee said.51 In an interview published in the International Herald Tribune the day after Singapore caved in to Wolfowitz’s rebuke, Premier Lee was even more colourful in responding to a report that Reporters Without Borders ranked Singapore 140th out of 167 countries in terms of press freedom: ‘Yes we are somewhere like Iraq and Libya …We cause them angst and confusion because we don’t look like Saddam Hussein or Qaddafi in the old days. On the other hand, neither are we a Western liberal model. We refuse to conform to their mould.’ The news article went on to note that Lee was referring to Singapore’s need to guard a multiracial and multireligious society that is ‘too sensitive for free speech’.52 The Singaporean reaction to the Arab uprisings could at best be said to be a collectively vicarious reaction to a train of events stretching from the ‘Battle of Seattle’ during the World Trade Organization ministerial meeting of 1999, running through the Thai Red Shirt demonstrations of 2009 and the Egyptian protests in Tahrir Square in 2011, right up to the Occupy Wall Street movement of winter 2011–12. But there is a difference: the Singaporean reactions are largely focused upon publicizing the ills of globalization, with democratization forming



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just one component of the overall protest agenda. This can therefore be regarded as some degree of electronic vicariousness leading to democratic empathy, but without jettisoning basic social stability, if the 60 per cent who voted for the PAP in the May 2011 General Election is to be taken seriously as a ‘mainstream’ view of how well-liked the PAP government is.

Conclusion All in all, the populations in Singapore and Malaysia have only emulated degrees of democratization in the wake of the Arab uprisings since the contexts of democratization campaigns in both Southeast Asian states have been filtered by local contexts of globalization, economics and racial politics. Electronic vicariousness is clearly at work here. The civil society in Malaysia and Singapore certainly understands the basic dynamics of a democratic revolution in Tahrir Square. The Arab uprisings have inspired a political cottage industry of coining associated buzzwords for demanding change towards a more pluralistic direction. This is more than evident in news commentaries, blogs and other social media sites. Nevertheless, this has resulted in degrees of democratic empathy rather than outright emulation of regime change formulae. It is quite evident that in the Malaysian and Singaporean contexts, civil society and their erstwhile protagonists, the soft authoritarian governments of the BN and PAP, believe that change can still take place within the paradigm of law and order afforded by existing constitutional democracy. Change outside this ‘known’ system is the step either into the unknown, or the calamitous past. In a way, one might objectively agree with the status quo authorities holding sway in Kuala Lumpur and Singapore that the elitist pattern of politics and their psychological defences of invoking threats to multiracial and multireligious societies are still potent logics appealing to their respective populations. Therefore, the Arab uprisings’ main consequence in both Southeast Asian states can be explained mainly in terms of vicariousness, or wishful thinking albeit with potentially some indeterminate degree of impact on actual politics.

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Notes 1

Quoted in Peter J. Schraeder, ‘Promoting an international community of democracies’, in P. Schraeder (ed.), Exporting Democracy: Rhetoric vs. Reality, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2002, p. 8. 2 See Murray Edelman, The Symbolic Uses of Politics, Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1964; Laurence Whitehead, Democratization: Theory and Experience, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. 3 Mustafa K. Anuar, ‘The role of Malaysia’s mainstream press in the 1999 general elections’, in F. Wah and J. Saravanamuttu (eds), New Politics in Malaysia, Singapore: Institute of South East Asian Studies, 2003, pp. 53–65; David Birch, Singapore Media: Communication Strategies and Practices, Melbourne: Longman Cheshire, 1993. 4 Edelman, The Symbolic Uses of Politics, pp. 20–1. 5 Alexis de Tocqueville, Alexis de Tocqueville on Democracy, Revolution, and Society, J. Stone and S. Mennell (eds), Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980, p. 122. 6 Tocqueville, Alexis de Tocqueville On Democracy, Revolution, and Society, p. 97. 7 Laurence Whitehead, Democratization: Theory and Experience, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002, pp. 10–11. 8 Ibid., p. 27. 9 Ibid., p. 54. 10 Ibid., p. 19. 11 Pramod K. Nayar, An Introduction to New Media and Cybercultures, Malden: WileyBlackwell, 2010; Brian D. Loader, ‘The governance of cyberspace: Politics, technology and global restructuring’, in B. Loader (ed.), The Governance of Cyberspace: Politics, Technology and Global Restructuring, London: Routledge, 1997, pp. 1–22. 12 Nayar, An Introduction to New Media and Cybercultures, p. 3. 13 Nayar, An Introduction to New Media and Cybercultures, pp. 59–63. 14 Peter J. Schraeder, ‘Promoting an international community of democracies’, in P. Schraeder (ed.), Exporting Democracy: Rhetoric vs. Reality, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2002, pp. 1–14. 15 Dietram A. Scheufele, ‘Framing as a theory of media effects’, Journal of Communication 49(1) (1999), pp. 103–122. 16 Bruce Gale, ‘Singapore – “Malaysia Uprisings”: Not so fast …’, YourVietnamExpert, 16 November 2011, available at: http://yourviet.blogspot.com/2011/11/singaporemalaysia-spring-not-so-fast.html#!/2011/11/singapore-malaysia-spring-not-so-fast. html, accessed 15 January 2013. 17 Gordon P. Means, Malaysian Politics, London: University of London, 1970, pp. 44–5; Anne Munro-Kua, Authoritarian Populism in Malaysia, Houndmills: Macmillan Press, 1996, Ch. 2. 18 Means, Malaysian Politics, pp. 45–8. 19 Means, Malaysian Politics, p. 52. 20 Means, Malaysian Politics, pp. 102–7. 21 Means, Malaysian Politics, pp. 162–5. 22 William Case, ‘Malaysia: Trajectory shift’, in W. Case (ed.), Contemporary Authoritarianism in Southeast Asia, Abingdon: Routledge, 2010, pp. 70–5.



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23 Munro-Kua, Authoritarian Populism in Malaysia, Chs 4–5. 24 Boo Teik Khoo, Paradoxes of Mahathirism: an Intellectual Biography of Mahathir Mohamad, Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1995, pp. 30–41. 25 Munro-Kua, Authoritarian Populism in Malaysia, pp. 115–25; Edmund Terence Gomez (ed.), Politics in Malaysia: The Malay Dimension, Abingdon: Routledge, 2007. 26 Anuar, ‘The role of Malaysia’s mainstream press in the 1999 general elections’, pp. 53–65. 27 Ariel Heryanto and Sumit K. Mandal, ‘Challenges to authoritarianism in Indonesia and Malaysia’, in A. Heryanto and S. Mandal (eds), Challenging Authoritarianism in Southeast Asia, London: Routledge/Curzon, 2003, pp. 7–11. 28 Kee Beng Ooi, Lost in Transition: Malaysia under Abdullah, Singapore and Petaling Jaya: Institute of South East Asian Studies, 2008. 29 CareCitizen, ‘Why we need free and fair election’, Youtube.com, 13 November 2011, available at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MN7eFfWyAP4&feature=related, accessed 15 January 2013. 30 Choon Mei Wong, ‘Malott: Najib acted like an Arab Spring Uprisings despot over BERSIH’, Hornbill Unleashed (Blog), 27 July 2011, available at: http://hornbillunleashed. wordpress.com/2011/07/27/21607/. 2011, accessed 25 January 2013. 31 CareCitizen, ‘Why we need free and fair election’. 32 Malaysiakini, various anonymous netizens, ‘No Arab Spring, but a M’sian Monsoon perhaps’, Malaysiakini, 29 November 2011, available at: http://www.malaysiakini.com/ news/182660, accessed 25 January 2013. 33 Ernest C.T. Chew, ‘The Singapore national identity: Its historical evolution and emergence’, in E. Chew and E. Lee (eds), A History of Singapore, Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1991, pp. 357–68. 34 Peng Er Lam and Kevin Y.L. Tan, Lee’s Lieutenants: Singapore’s Old Guard, St Leonards: Allen & Unwin, 1999. 35 Mohamed Noordin Sopiee, From Malayan Union to Singapore Separation: Political Unification in the Malaysia Region, 1945–65, Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya Press, 2005, Ch. 7. 36 Michael Hill and Kwen Fee Lian, The Politics of Nation Building and Citizenship in Singapore, London: Routledge, 1995; Kuan Yew Lee, The Singapore Story: Memoirs of Lee Kuan Yew, Singapore: Prentice Hall College Div, 2000. 37 Daniel P.S. Goh, ‘Multiculturalism and the problem of solidarity’, in T. Chong (ed), Management of Success: Singapore Revisited, Singapore: Institute of South East Asian Studies, 2010, pp. 566–7. 38 David Pilling, ‘When the Singapore Sling meets the Arab Uprisings’, Financial Times, 14 September 2011, available at: http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/da37315e-debb-11e0a228-00144feabdc0.html, accessed 15 January 2013. 39 The Online Citizen, ‘What’s the fuss? Why occupy Wall Street?’ The Online Citizen: a Community of Singaporeans, 11 November 2011, available at: http://theonlinecitizen. com/2011/11/what%e2%80%99s-the-fuss-why-occupy-wall-street, accessed 15 January 2013. 40 Raju Gopalakrishnan, ‘Summer of change in Southeast Asia, but no Arab Uprisings’, Reuters via Yahoo! News, 16 October 2011, available at: http://ph.news.yahoo.com/

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summer-change-southeast-asia-no-arab-uprisings-094102064.html, accessed 15 January 2013. Department of Statistics, Government of Singapore, ‘Key annual indicators – Population (Mid year estimates) and land area’, STATISTICS, 3 December 2011, available at: http:// www.singstat.gov.sg/stats/keyind.html#respop, accessed 15 January 2013. Esther Teo, ‘Home buyers from Europe, US are back’, Straits Times (Singapore), 17 November 2010: B32. ‘Level playing field for hiring Singapore workers’, Asiaone.com.sg (Singapore Press Holdings), 1 November 2011, available at: http://www.asiaone.com/print/Business/ News/Office/Story/A1Story20111101-308012.html, accessed 15 January 2013. Siew Hua Lee, ‘Voice of reason amid sound and fury’, Straits Times (Singapore), 17 October 2008: A32. Xueying Li and Cassandra Chew, ‘What PM Lee would have done differently …’, Straits Times (Singapore), 21 October 2010, A10. Clarissa Oon, ‘Films Act amended’, Straits Times (Singapore), 24 March 2009, B4. Oon, ‘Films Act amended’, B4. Asha Popatlal, ‘Payouts for Lehman Minibond holders from Feb 12’, Channel News Asia, 3 February 2010, available at: http://www.channelnewsasia.com/stories/ singaporelocalnews/view/1035104/1/.html, accessed 15 January 2013. Ravi Philemon, ‘Bersih 2.0 Singapore plans a gathering of yellow in Hong Lim Park’ .  The Online Citizen, 9 July 2011, available at: http://theonlinecitizen.com/2011/07/bersih2-0-singapore-plans-a-gathering-of-yellow-in-hong-lim-park, accessed 15 January 2013. Robert Teh, ‘Reaction to BERSIH 2.0 Singapore’s Call for Assembly’, The Online Citizen, 10 July 2011, available at: http://theonlinecitizen.com/2011/07/bersih-2-0-singaporeplans-a-gathering-of-yellow-in-hong-lim-park, accessed 15 January 2013. Xueying Li, ‘S’pore “right” to blacklist activists’, Straits Times (Singapore), 7 October 2006: H10. Karina Robinson, ‘Preparing Singapore for a globalized world – Prime Minister promotes a mantra of reinvention’, International Herald Tribune, 16–17 September 2006, p. 18.

CHAPTER 11

‘Look Over Here!’ Indonesian Responses to the Arab Spring Greg Fealy

An Egyptian scholar visiting the State Islamic University in Jakarta in mid-2011 gave a talk to students on ‘The Lessons of the Arab Spring’. At the end of the talk, a student stood and inquired if the scholar was also going to be asking about the lessons of Indonesia’s reformasi process, in which another despised autocrat had been overthrown and a democratic system successfully implanted. The scholar shifted uncomfortably and replied that he knew little about events in Indonesia but doubted that, given the many differences between the two countries, much benefit could derive from a comparative study. This anecdote neatly captures the disconnect between Arabs in the Middle East and Indonesians regarding the relative significance of their respective political upheavals and reform processes that have swept across their countries in recent years. When the Arab Spring began to gain momentum from early 2011 in Tunisia, Algeria, Egypt, Jordan and Kuwait, many Indonesians hoped and expected that their own country’s rapid democratization following the downfall of Suharto’s authoritarian regime in May 1998 would provide inspiration and practical lessons for Arab nations that were now embarking on a similar trajectory. There seemed many reasons why the Arab world would study Indonesia’s example. Indonesia was, according to many scholars of democratization, one of the most successful cases of transition from authoritarianism to democracy in the recent decades.1 The US think tank Freedom House has, since 2004, rated Indonesia as a full democracy: the only country in Southeast Asia to have this distinction and also one of only three Muslimmajority nations to be so classified. Moreover, Indonesia has by far the world’s largest Muslim population – some 211 million of its 240 million citizens are Muslims. Muslim students, intellectuals and community

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leaders played a key role in bringing down Suharto and in shaping the democratic system that replaced his military-based regime. In addition to this, there were long historical connections between Indonesia and the Middle East, especially Egypt. Tens of thousands of Indonesian students and ulama had trained in Egypt’s Islamic institutions, most notably al-Azhar University, over the past century and many thousands of Indonesians had developed close ties with Arab scholars, politicians and organizations, including the Ikhwan (Muslim Brotherhood), Salafi sheikhs, jihadist groups such as Gama’a Islamiyah, and progressive intellectuals like Hasan Hanafi. Thus, Indonesians anticipated that Arabs would be keen to learn from their post-1998 experiences. To that end, numerous delegations were dispatched from Indonesia to Arab Spring countries, many of them sponsored by the Indonesian government with Western financial and administrative assistance, but some also being undertaken by Indonesian Islamic parties and organizations. The impact of these delegations, and indeed the broader reformasi process in Indonesia, upon democratizing Arab nations has been slight, much to the disappointment and chagrin of many Indonesians. Despite Indonesian efforts, few Arabs appear curious about or heed advice from Southeast Asians. Much as Indonesians have strived to gain Middle Eastern attention and persuade Arabs to look at their case, they have been left with the sense that Arabs are looking inwards and are heedless of the parallels with Indonesia. Explaining why Indonesia has had so little influence on the Arab Spring requires us to delve deeper into Indonesia–Middle East relations. Indeed, Indonesia’s ‘failure’ to impact on Middle Eastern reform tells us much about its frustrated ambitions to be a leading Muslim nation and the misguided aspirations held by many Western countries that Indonesia might be elevated as a model of ‘moderate Muslim’ diplomacy in the world.

Indonesian Media and Government Responses to the Arab Spring Events in the Middle East starting in 2010 attracted considerable media attention in Indonesia, as they did throughout the world. Much of this coverage, however, was best described as ‘interested’ rather than ‘intensive’. The most dramatic developments, such as Mubarak’s



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resignation on 11 February 2011, the fall of Benghazi and Tripoli in Libya to the anti-government forces in February and August 2011 and the death of Muammar Gaddafi on 21 October 2011, commanded banner headlines on the front pages of most of Indonesia’s serious newspapers. But rarely did coverage of these events remain prominent in the media for more than a day or two. Much of the reporting was from wire services and only the largest of media groups, such as Kompas, Jawa Pos and Tempo, as well as the state news agency Antara, had journalists carrying out sustained reporting from the Middle East. Most of the opinion or analytical pieces were written by Indonesian students in the Middle East or Indonesia-based commentators on international affairs or democratization, rather than from journalists based in Arab countries. Many of the significant, but less sensational events, such as the Tunisian election result and Al-Nahda’s victory in October 2011, passed with scant reportage or analysis. Even the overtly Islamic press, such as Republika, Sabili and Suara Hidayatullah, although devoting greater space to stories about the Arab Spring, did not provide in-depth or consistently prominent coverage. This media response reflects the relatively low level of concern for Middle Eastern affairs in much of Indonesian society. While there was curiosity about the course of events, especially the more violent and climactic developments, seemingly only a small minority of Indonesians feel a direct connection with the Middle East in the way that they might, say, for neighbouring Southeast Asian nations. Indeed, the greater intensity of reporting of Southeast Asian affairs compared to that of the Arab world provides a useful marker of the relative importance that Indonesian audiences attach to the two regions. Fervent consumption of news about the Middle East is restricted mainly to Muslims of an Islamist orientation – that is, those who view the world primarily through an Islamic lens and who seek to make Islamic law and values the basis of public and personal life. According to survey data from 2003 and 2006, this section of the Islamic community comprises about 15–20 per cent of the total population.2 Islamist parties, such as the Prosperous Justice Party (PKS) and United Development Party (PPP), gained about 17 per cent of the vote at the 2004 and 2009 general elections;3 smaller numbers of Islamists can also be found in civil society organizations such as Hizb ut-Tahrir and Jemaah Tabligh, and Salafi groups. Islamists usually have a high awareness of events in

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the Arab world and not only read extensively about them but are also ideologically influenced by such developments and prepared to mobilize their supporters in response to Middle Eastern events. The PKS, in particular, has close links to the Ikhwan in the Middle East and a transnational perspective on Islamic issues. It has organized mass rallies, the biggest of them involving hundreds of thousands of supporters, to protest against Israeli aggression towards Palestine or US military campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan. But in the case of the Arab Spring, there were no large rallies, due most likely to the fact that the events in the Middle East were primarily Muslim against Muslim, rather than nonMuslim versus Muslim. Some PKS leaders did, however, controversially claim that thousands of their party members and sympathizers in Egypt were supporting the anti-Mubarak protesters.4 Most major Islamic organizations, such as Nahdlatul Ulama and Muhammadiyah, made dutiful statements in support of political reform in the Middle East, but there was little effort to send donations or lobby the Indonesian government to take a strong stance on the issue. What was noticeable about the media coverage was the extent of the focus upon the safety of the tens of thousands of Indonesian citizens working and studying in the Middle East, the largest number of which were in Egypt. Here, there was some sense of urgency about the possibility that Indonesians may become victims of the violence. Indeed, in some major media outlets, the threat to Indonesians in the Middle East gained as much if not more attention than the political and social upheavals.5 This also contrasts with Malaysia where Islamic groups and opposition parties staged protests against the Egyptian embassy and the Mubarak government in solidarity with protestors in Egypt.6 The responses of the Indonesian government were tepid. President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono made a succession of statements expressing concern about the violence against protesters and calling on all sides to resolve their differences peacefully. Unlike a number of the governments of other Muslim majority nations, such as Turkey and Malaysia, Indonesia was reluctant to take sides with the protesters until the incumbent regimes were wavering. This reflected Indonesia’s conservative and cautious foreign policy orientation. Yudhoyono has declared that Indonesia’s aim is to practise an ‘all directions foreign policy’ which leads to it having ‘a million friends and zero enemies’.7 This risk-averse strategy disinclined the President from pursuing a pro-



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reform policy towards the Middle East until such time as the antiregime forces were closing in on victory. It is interesting to compare the impact on Indonesian Muslims of the Arab Spring with the impact of the 1979 Iranian Revolution. The latter, despite the staunch attempts of Indonesian President Suharto’s regime to restrict the flow of information about events in Iran and the open disapproval of many mainstream and establishment Sunni leaders, had a galvanizing effect, particularly on younger Muslim intellectuals and activists. Developments in the Revolution were closely followed in Islamic circles and some Islamist movements and publishers quietly disseminated news and analysis of the Shah’s downfall, the establishment of a new Ayatollah-led regime and the United States’ humiliation at the siege of its embassy in Tehran. The writings of Iranian intellectuals such as Ali Shariati, Ayatollah Monteza Motahhari and Jalal Al-eAhmad were translated into Indonesian and discussed in study groups on campuses and in mosques. For many young Indonesian Muslims, the Revolution was an inspiring event that showed that the Muslim masses, under disciplined and charismatic leadership, could overthrow repressive, corrupt, Western-backed regimes and bring about sweeping change. The parallels between the Shah’s Iran and Suharto’s Indonesia seemed obvious. Thus the events in Iran became a source of hope. Another consequence of the Revolution was a surge in Shi‘ism within Indonesia. Prior to 1979, the Shi‘i community was very small, perhaps only a few thousand, and was largely inconspicuous. But in the early 1980s, growing numbers of Sunni Muslims began studying Shi‘ism and incorporating aspects of Shi‘i devotional practices into their religious life. Shi‘i schools and cultural institutions began to proliferate, albeit not using the word Shi‘i in order to avoid the attention of the regime or more militantly Sunni groups. Hence, within a few years of the Iranian Revolution, its impact on Indonesian Muslim intellectuals, activists and community organizations was apparent. To date, there has been no equivalent resonance from the Arab Spring on Indonesia. How can we account for the greater impact of the Iranian Revolution compared to the Arab Spring? The main reason can be found in the dramatic change in Indonesia’s own political circumstances between 1979 and 2010–11. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, the New Order regime was at the height of its power and repressiveness. Islamic groups and activists, particularly those who were critical of the regime and its

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policies, were primary targets for the New Order’s extensive security apparatus. Outspoken Muslim leaders were subject to intimidation and sometimes detention, physical abuse and vilification as ‘subversives’. The state also punished Islamic organizations that dissented from government policies or sought to maintain their independence from regime control. For many Muslims, Suharto’s administration was not only harshly authoritarian in denying them their political and legal rights, but also, and more specifically, anti-Islamic in its orientation. Its relentless crackdown on political Islam, its refusal to implement Islamic law outside the narrow confines of family law, and its discrimination against pious Muslims in the bureaucracy and military services were all seen as proof of an inherently un-Islamic and secularizing disposition. The overthrow of the Shah’s regime generated hope for many of Indonesia’s dispirited Muslim activists that continuing struggle held some prospect of the Suharto government being brought down. Indonesia’s political situation was vastly different by the time of the Arab Spring. The fall of the Suharto regime in 1998 had ushered in a period of rapid democratization and legal reforms. Despite much scepticism in the international community regarding the nation’s ability to democratize after some four decades of authoritarian rule, Indonesians proved remarkably receptive to reform. Political restrictions were lifted, more than a hundred new parties were formed, and free and fair legislative elections were held within little more than a year of the New Order’s demise. Other wide-ranging reforms would follow, including amendment of the constitution, extensive decentralization of political and economic authority, direct election of the president, governors and district heads, and the effective marginalization of the military from political and bureaucratic power. While there is debate about the depth and permanence of Indonesia’s reforms, most scholars and democracy-monitoring institutions regard the transition as one of the most far-ranging and significant for a post-authoritarian nation in recent decades.8

Aspiring Exemplar to the Muslim World In 1979, many Indonesian Muslims felt that they could learn and draw strength from events in Iran and elsewhere in the Middle East, but in



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2011, their response was that it was now Indonesia’s turn to serve as a model and inspiration to other Muslims. Rather than seeing the Arab Spring as a development with lessons for Indonesia, they believed that the reforming Arab nations would study Indonesia’s example for insights into managing the democratic transition. This hope was expressed in a diplomatic fashion by President Yudhoyono in May 2011, when he told visiting US editors that Indonesia ‘can share our experiences, our success and our failure in conducting reforms’, but that his country was ‘not in a position to lecture or tell Egypt to imitate our path’.9 The expectation that Indonesia would become a guide for postauthoritarian reform in the Arab world was bolstered by numerous Western leaders who lavishly, indeed almost ritually, praised Indonesia’s democratization, pluralism and moderate Islam. Hillary Clinton told a meeting of business leaders and officials in Jakarta in 2009 that: ‘If you want to know if Islam, democracy, modernity and women’s rights can coexist, go to Indonesia.’10 Barack Obama, during his visit to Indonesia, told his audience that Indonesia was a ‘critical leader’ on the regional and world stage and that the ‘spirit of tolerance that is written into your constitution, symbolized in your mosques and churches and temples, and embodied in your people’ should be emulated by all nations.11 ‘This is the foundation of Indonesia’s example to the world,’ he said, ‘and this is why Indonesia will play such an important role in the twenty-first century.’12 Similarly, Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd stated that Indonesia proved that ‘in politics, democracy and Islam were perfectly reconcilable’, also referring to it as a ‘beacon’ to other Muslim nations.13 Paul Wolfowitz, the former US ambassador to Jakarta and ex-deputy secretary of defence, once observed that: ‘If only Indonesia’s version of Islam could be exported to the Middle East, many of our problems there would be solved.’14 Indeed, almost every Western leader visiting Indonesia in recent years has expressed similar hopes that the country’s brand of Muslim reform could be promoted globally. However, much of this praise for Indonesia’s tolerance and Islamically compatible democracy is over-stated. To begin with, although Muslims played a key role in bringing down Suharto and shaping the democratic system that replaced the New Order, Islamic principles and discourse formed only a peripheral part of this process. Second, although Indonesia has largely pluralistic religious relations, certain minorities, such as the Ahmadis and Shi‘a, have been subject to intimidation, discrimination

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and physical attack, with at best half-hearted protection offered by the state. Also, dozens of faiths and sects are effectively proscribed, including Judaism, Baha’ism, the Jehovah’s Witnesses and Freemasons. Nonetheless, Western leaders persist with their rather idealistic views of Indonesia’s religious harmony.15 The coming together of an Indonesian desire to promote its democratic reforms and Western governments’ desire to peddle Indonesia as a paragon of moderate Muslim democratization has led to a string of post-Arab Spring initiatives. The external development agencies of the US and Australian governments, USAID and AusAID respectively, as well as the Indonesian government itself, have sent numerous delegations of academics, Islamic scholars and politicians to the Middle East in order to speak about Indonesia’s experiences of the transition process. Several Islamic parties and organizations have also sent their own leaders on informal trips to Arab Spring nations. Similarly, there have been sponsored visits of Arab (particularly Egyptian) officials, intellectuals, student leaders and politicians to Indonesia, though these have been far fewer in number. Anecdotal information from members of the Indonesian delegations suggests that the missions have had disappointing outcomes. Delegates have recounted that while many Egyptian intellectuals were keen to learn about the Indonesian case and to compare it with their own nation’s situation, the response of those who were the more important players – politicians, Islamic leaders and officials – were often tepid or disengaged.16 Frequently, important figures failed to attend meetings and when they did, they often emphasized the particularities of the Egyptian case and were incurious about Indonesia’s transition to democracy. As a result, there has been considerable Indonesian frustration and resignation that Arab countries were not more attentive. Although both the Indonesians and their Western sponsors were surprised at this response from Arab leaders, a look at the recent history of Western-funded attempts to make Indonesian Islamic thinking more accessible to a broader Muslim audience suggests that the chances of success were always slim. Over the past 20 years, various international agencies have funded such activities as the translation of Indonesian liberal or moderate texts into Arabic, English and Bengali, or the sending of Indonesian Muslim intellectuals on speaking tours in Middle Eastern and South Asian countries. Particular emphasis was given to disseminating



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the works of some of Indonesia’s leading progressive or liberal Muslim intellectuals, such as Masdar F. Mas’udi, who wrote a number of highly regarded works on gender and Islam, and Ulil Abshar-Abdalla, a young scholar who specializes in new theological and philosophical thinking in support of rights, democratization and tolerance. Most of these initiatives have ended in failure. In several cases, thousands of copies of translated Indonesian texts that were distributed free or sold at heavily discounted prices in Middle Eastern and South Asian countries were poorly received and, in some cases, required the pulping of a series of books. 17

Arab Attitudes to Indonesian Muslims Why is it that some of Indonesia’s best contemporary writing on Islamic issues has aroused so little interest in the Middle East, just as that nation’s democratic transition has been largely overlooked by Arab reformers? At the heart of the problem is an apparent and widespread Arab disdain for Southeast Asian Muslims. Southeast Asian Muslim scholars and leaders, particularly those from Indonesia and Malaysia, who regard themselves as coming from well-established, vibrant and sophisticated Islamic cultures, regularly complain about the seeming condescension and disregard paid to them by Arabs. Indonesians studying in the Middle East find little reference in their courses or by lecturers to Islam beyond South Asia, and they are often told that Southeast Asia is not only geographically but also intellectually and diplomatically peripheral to the Arab world. And indeed, for much of the past century, the flow of influence has been largely one-way: from the Middle East to Southeast Asia. Intellectual, political and spiritual movements and trends as diverse as Salafism, Jihadi-Salafism, the Ikhwan, and Hizb ut-Tahrir and neoSufism have spread from the Arab world to Muslim communities in Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand and Singapore, although they are usually adapted or indigenized to fit local conditions and exigencies.18 It was not always thus. Until the early decades of the twentieth century, Southeast Asian ulama held senior positions in prestigious centres of Middle Eastern learning. The Sumatran Sheikh Ahmad Khatib, for example, was imam of the Shafi’i law school at Masjid al-Haram in Mecca until 1915. Sheikh Abdussamad al-Jawi al-Falimbani was an eminent teacher in Medina and Yemen, and the Malay Sheikh Daud bin

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Abdullah al-Fathani attracted a large following during his 30 years in the Hijaz.19 But in recent decades, the number of Indonesian or Malay scholars in Mecca and Medina has dwindled dramatically, partly because changing patterns of education mean that students from Southeast Asia are now studying at tertiary institutions rather than in traditional, nondegree centres, and partly also because those students regard it as more prestigious to be taught by Arab scholars rather than those from their own regions. Another factor harming Arab attitudes towards Indonesia has been the influx of cheap Indonesian labour, particularly in the domestic service sector. Many thousands of poorly educated and lowpaid Indonesian maids can now be found in the households of well-todo Arabs in Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states. This has inclined many Arabs to view Indonesia as a source of servile workers rather than a nation of estimable and innovative Islamic thinkers.20 The lack of Middle Eastern interest in Indonesia is not helped by the latter’s diplomatic over-reaching. Particularly under Yudhoyono, Indonesia has had an unrealistic assessment of its good standing in the broader Muslim world. Yudhoyono, since he came to office in 2004, has displayed pretensions of being a statesman on the international stage. The constant praise and diplomatic urgings of Western leaders over the past seven years has only added to the President’s sense of self-importance. He may also have been influenced by ratings from organizations such as Muslim 500, which lists him as the eleventh most powerful Muslim leader in the world.21 Whatever the cause, Yudhoyono has consistently over-estimated his clout. He has, for example, offered himself as a mediator in the Israel–Palestine dispute, despite the fact that Indonesia does not have diplomatic relations with the Jewish state. Not only did Israel testily dismiss Indonesia’s offer, the Palestinian leadership also responded coolly to Jakarta’s initiative.22 He fared little better with his offer to host a dialogue between Hamas and Fatah. Similarly, and seemingly at the behest of the Bush Administration, Yudhoyono hosted an ill-fated international conference of Sunni and Shi‘i leaders in 2007 that was designed to ease tensions between the two communities, especially in Iraq. The conference ended in failure after most senior Shi‘i clerics boycotted the event following Indonesia’s vote in the United Nations Security Council to tighten sanctions against Iran.23 These diplomatic misadventures indicate that Yudhoyono has a poor sense of the dynamics of Islamic diplomacy. He rarely visits the



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Middle East, has no close relationship with any Arab head of state, cannot speak Arabic, and is not learned in Islamic sciences. Without such attributes, Yudhoyono is likely to continue to be a marginal figure in world Islamic affairs. The only one of Indonesia’s recent presidents to enjoy relatively high standing in the Middle East was Abdurrahman Wahid, who served from 1999 to 2001. Wahid, an Islamic scholar, had been educated in Cairo and Baghdad, spoke fluent Arabic and had extensive political, intellectual and civil society contacts in the Arab world. He was also, uniquely for a senior Indonesian figure, on good terms with Israel, making numerous visits to the Jewish state and serving on the advisory board of the Shimon Peres Center for Peace until his death in 2009.24 But even though Wahid was warmly welcomed in many parts of the Middle East, his frequent offers to mediate in disputes there also fell on deaf ears. Indonesia is also not an influential member of the Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC),25 despite its status as the most populous Muslim nation. President Suharto served for several years as chairman of the OIC in the mid-1990s, but this was a formality rather than an indication of power within the organization. Under Yudhoyono, Indonesia has stepped up its activities within the OIC, with the President attending several of its summits and the foreign minister regularly participating in its diplomatic meetings. Indonesia, along with Malaysia, helped in persuading the OIC to support the deployment of peace-keeping forces in southern Lebanon after the conflict between Israeli and Hizbullah forces in 2006, and Indonesia subsequently sent some 3,000 soldiers to Lebanon for that purpose. But for the most part, Indonesia holds little sway within the OIC.26 If Indonesian government initiatives in the Middle East have met with minimal success, some Islamic organizations have been able to develop and maintain strong connections with their Arab world counterparts. One of the most important of these is the Prosperous Justice Party (PKS). The PKS has its origins in the Tarbiyah movement, a campus-based revivalist network that emerged in the early 1980s and which drew its inspiration from Egypt’s Ikhwan. For more than three decades, Tarbiyah and PKS leaders have enjoyed warm relations with the Ikhwan and the two movements have co-operated closely in fostering knowledge of ikhwani ideals within Indonesia and among Indonesian students studying in the Middle East. Senior PKS figures

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such as Hilmi Aminuddin, Anis Matta and Luthfi Hasan Isyaaq regularly attend the secretive international Ikhwan forums, the Tanzim al-Alami (World Body), which is reportedly chaired by the Mursyidul A’am (General Guide of the Ikhwan). Although the exact nature of the proceedings is unknown, anecdotal information from within PKS suggests that Ikhwan-linked parties from around the world report on developments in their countries and formulate strategies to strengthen the global ikhwani movement.27 PKS sources say that their party was, at least until the Arab Spring, regarded as the most successful ikhwani party of the 2000s and close attention was paid to how it navigated the demands of electoral democracy and the compromises of being part of a ruling coalition since 2004. The same sources report that following the overthrow of Mubarak, senior Brothers in Egypt have questioned PKS leaders about their experiences in collaborating with non-Muslims in order to expand electoral support or recruiting non-ikhwani Muslims and managing the risks of loss of integrity as the party is opened up to broader community constituencies.28 So in the case of the Ikhwan movement, some ‘learning’ from Indonesia’s democratic transition may be taking place in Middle East. In the case of other major Indonesian Islamic organizations, such as Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) and Muhammadiyah, their contribution to Middle Eastern discourse would appear to be slim. Neither organization has direct Arab counterparts, in the way that PKS does, and the nature of pre-existing contact is more tenuous. Both NU and Muhammadiyah do, however, make much of their achievements in fostering religious harmony and moderation in Indonesia, and representatives from both organizations on Indonesian delegations to the Middle East have stressed this in their presentations to Arab interlocutors.

Conclusion The West’s championing of Indonesia as a religiously moderate and politically pluralist model for the rest of the Muslim world is understandable, if overblown, as there is much about the country’s democratization and inter-faith harmony that is admirable. Indonesia’s progressive Islamic discourse is rich and evolving, and this does deserve much wider recognition within the Muslim world. But at least for the



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foreseeable future, such promotion of Indonesia will bear little fruit. The perceived cultural and historical asymmetry between the Middle Eastern and Southeast Asian relations is a major hindrance. Many Arabs continue to regard Indonesian expressions of Islam as inferior to their own and are thus disinclined to devote attention to studying Indonesia’s reform trajectory. It must also be acknowledged that the dramatic and intense rate of change in Arab Spring countries probably also leaves them with little time for consideration of models elsewhere. In the case of Indonesia’s own somewhat chaotic transition to democracy, few of its leaders had the time or the willingness to ponder the lessons from similar processes in other countries. To some extent, reform movements in each country will believe that their own circumstances are sufficiently unique as to lessen the need for international comparative studies. Indonesia’s frustration that it does not command greater attention in the Middle East is likely to grow. On the one hand, Indonesia has Islamized rapidly in recent decades and its diplomatic and economic ties are reflecting an increasing sense of engagement and fraternity with the rest of the Muslim world. Ever-greater numbers of Indonesians are travelling to and studying in the Middle East and the Indonesian government is making a concerted effort to expand trade with and investment in Gulf countries, thereby becoming a more important element in the global Islamic economy. The Middle East’s lack of awareness of Indonesia’s democratization reminds Indonesians of the essentially uni-directional flow of influence over the past half century. On the other hand, Indonesia regards itself as an increasingly important player in international affairs. It is a member of the G20, is predicted to be one of the world’s top ten economies by 2050, and expects that other Muslim nations will acknowledge the leadership role that it could play. In the end, the Arab Spring is likely to have as little influence on Indonesia as Indonesia has had on it. This fact is a clear indication of continuing constraints upon transmission of political and religious-cultural ideas between these two regions.

Notes 1

See, for example, Larry Diamond, ‘Indonesia’s place in global democracy’, in E. Aspinall and M. Mietzner (eds), Problems of Democracy in Indonesia: Democracy, Elections and Society, Singapore: ISEAS, 2010, pp. 21–49.

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2 See, for example, the survey data of the Lembaga Survei Indonesia reported in ‘Sentimen Politik Islam kian pudar’, Jawa Pos, 24 November 2003 and ‘Partai Islam kian tak diminati’, Jawa Pos, 16 October 2006. 3 Greg Fealy, ‘Indonesia’s Islamic parties in decline’, Inside Story, 11 May 2009, available at: http://inside.org.au/indonesia%e2%80%99s-islamic-parties-in-decline, accessed 5 July 2009. 4 Markus Junianto Sihaloho, ‘Indonesians providing logistic support for Egyptian demonstrators: PKS’, Jakarta Post, 4 February 2011. Cairo-based Indonesian students strongly criticized PKS leaders for their remarks, claiming that they would be targeted by Egyptian security services as a result. 5 ‘Komisi I Dukung Pemulangan WNI dari Mesir’, Rakyat Merdeka Online, 1 February 2011; and ‘Proses Pemulangan WNI Dari Mesir Bertahap’, TV One News, 2 February 2011. 6 ‘Malaysia: solidarity with protests’, Straits Times, 12 February 2011. 7 Cited in Donald Emmerson, ‘Is Indonesia rising? It depends’, in A. Reid (ed.), Indonesia Rising: The Repositioning of Asia’s Third Giant’, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2012, p. 64. 8 Richard Robison and Vedi Hadiz, Reorganising Power in Indonesia: The Politics of Oligarchy in an Age of Markets, RoutledgeCurzon, London and New York, 2004. 9 ‘SBY’s Advice for emerging Arab Democracies’, YouTube, 6 October 2011, available at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v+Mhn2xSBcX1o, accessed 3 December 2011. 10 Mark Landler, ‘Clinton praises Indonesian democracy’, New York Times, 18 February 2009. 11 Scott Wilson, ‘Obama praises Indonesia’s “Spirit of Tolerance” as a model’, The Washington Post, 10 November 2010. 12 ‘Indonesian religious unity an inspiration to the world: Obama’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 10 November 2010. 13 ‘Australia praises Indonesia’s democracy’, Antara News Agency, 9 December 2010. 14 Meeting with delegation of Indonesian Muslim leaders, The Pentagon, Virginia, February 2002. 15 See Melissa Crouch, ‘Religious regulations in Indonesia: Failing vulnerable groups?’, Review of Indonesian and Malaysian Affairs 43(2), 2009, pp. 53–103. 16 Confidential interviews with four participants in Indonesian delegations to Cairo in early 2011. 17 Confidential interviews with foreign aid organization workers in Jakarta. 18 Anthony Bubalo and Greg Fealy, Joining the Caravan? The Middle East, Islamism and Indonesia, Lowy Paper no. 5, Sydney: The Lowy Institute of International Affairs, 2005. 19 For more details on this, see Michael Laffan, Islamic Nationhood and Colonial Indonesia: The Umma Below the Winds, London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003; Azyumardi Azra, The Origins of Islamic Reformism in Southeast Asia: Networks of Malay-Indonesian and Middle-Eastern Ulama in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2004; and Martin Van Bruinessen, ‘Indonesian Islam and the Muslim world’, in A. Reid (ed.), Indonesia in the World, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2012, pp. 122–3.



Indonesian Responses to the Arab Spring

247

20 Yon Machmudi, ‘From Ulama to housemaids: Changing Arab attitudes to Indonesia’, seminar paper delivered at College of Asia and the Pacific, The Australian National University, 28 April 2010. 21 See ‘H.E. President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono’, The Muslim 500: The World’s Most Influential Muslims, available at: http://www.themuslim500.com/profile/presidentsusilo-bambang-yudhoyono, accessed 24 June 2012. 22 ‘Susilo confirms talks with Israel’s FM’, Jakarta Post, 19 September 2005. 23 Rizal Sukma, ‘Domestic politics and international posture: Constraints and possibilities’, in A. Reid (ed.), Indonesia Rising: The Repositioning of Asia’s Third Giant, Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2012, p. 86. 24 ‘Indonesia and Israel: A relationship in waiting’, Jewish Political Studies Review 17(1– 2) (September 2005), pp. 3–4. 25 Until 2011, the OIC’s name was the Organization of the Islamic Conference. 26 Leonard C. Sebastion, ‘Indonesian peacekeepers in Lebanon’, IDSS Commentaries, 13 September 2006; and ‘Prajurit TNI di Lebanon Pulang ke Tanah Air’, Kompas, 1 December 2012. 27 Anthony Bubalo, Greg Fealy and Whit Mason, Zealous Democrats: Islamism and Democracy in Egypt, Indonesia and Turkey, Sydney: Lowy Institute for International Policy, 2008, pp. 70–1. 28 Confidential interviews with PKS leaders and activists in mid- and late 2011.

Index

Abdel-Ghafour, Emad 34 Abdullah Ahmad Badawi 214 Abdullah, King of Jordan 114 Abdullah, Abdullah 94 Abshar-Abdalla, Ulil 241 accountability 67, 69, 71, 109, 135 activism online 132 SMS 132 Al-Adly, Habib trial 25 Afghanistan 90–2, 101, 121 corruption 101 diaspora 93 elite 91, 94 elite fragmentation 90–1, 93, 95 governance 95 Hezbi Islami 95 High Peace Council 95 Islam 92 living standards 95 National Directorate of Security (NDS) 94 NATO troops 125 parliamentary elections 96 politics 92, 96 population 92, 96 presidential elections 96 Soviet occupation 94 Strategic Partnership Agreement 94 Taliban 93, 94, 95, 96 AFIC see Armed Forces Institute of Cardiology under Pakistan

African Union (AU) 5, 6, 80–1 Al-e-Ahmad, Jalal 237 Ahmadinejad, Mahmoud 107, 118 Al-Ahram Centre for Political and Strategic Studies 29 Ai Weiwei 168, 175, 178 AKP see Justice and Development Party under Turkey Alawite community 114 Alexandria 69 Algeria 8, 9, 43–4, 53–60, 233 army 55 censorship 56 Charter for Peace and National Reconciliation 56 civil liberties 59 civil war 44, 53, 55 constitutional reform 44, 56, 58 corruption 57–8 economy 54, 56, 57 elections 53, 55 electoral reform 58 elite 44, 54, 57 food subsidies 58 food supply 54 foreign debt 54 gas reserves 54 human rights 59 human rights groups 58 industrialization 54 Islamic Salvation Front (FIS) 53, 55 Islamism 53 Law on Civil Concord 56

250

Democracy and Reform in the Middle East and Asia

Algeria cont. military 44, 53, 55–7 military coup 53, 56 Movement for a Society of Peace 57 nation-building 56 National Coordination for Change and Democracy 58 National Democratic Rally 57 National Liberation Front (FLN) 53, 54, 55, 56, 57 National Popular Assembly 53 oil prices 54 oil reserves 54, 65 oil revenues 57 popular demonstrations 44 pouvoir, le 54, 55–7, 60 presidential elections 57 press 55, 56 Rally for Democracy and Culture 58 riots 54, 57 terrorist groups 56 torture 59 trade unions 55 unemployment 54, 58 urbanization 54 war of independence 53 youth 57–8 Algiers 58 Ali, Khalid 29 Aliev, Rahat 135 Al-Jazeera 7, 17, 113, 207 Allawi, Ayad 97, 99 al-Qaeda 56, 96, 99, 109, 153, 155, 164 Amazigh language 50 Ambiga Sreenivasan 209, 216, 217 Amer, Mahfouz 34 American values 69 Aminuddin, Hilmi 244 Amir-Abdollahian, Hossein 112 An Huihou 164 Andijan 134 massacre 126 Annan, Kofi 71 Antara 235 anti-Americanism 164

anti-government protests 128 Anwar Ibrahim 209, 214, 215, 217, 219, 220 Arab American Institute Foundation 110 Arab League 4 Arabism 3 Arab-Israeli conflict 70 Al-Aridha 21, 34 Aristotle 206 Armenia 126 ASEAN see Association of Southeast Asian Nations Asian financial crisis of 1997–8 214 al-Assad, Bashar 1, 79, 105, 107, 113, 115, 116, 166 Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) 4, 200 Inter-Parliamentary Association 199 Myanmar 194, 199 Al-Aswani, Ala’a 39 asylum-seekers 4 Atambaev, Almazbek 130 AU see African Union Aung San Suu Kyi 189, 191, 192, 196, 209 arrest 226 National League for Democracy (NLD) 193, 196 Reith Lectures 189 AusAID 240 Australia 5, 167 external development agencies 240 authoritarianism 3, 4, 6, 9, 125 Al-Awaa, Selim 29 al-Azhar University 234 Bahrain 1, 43, 45, 70, 75, 106, 110–12, 115, 151 al-Assad regime 1 Shi‘a population 111 Sunni population 111 uprising 111, 117, 153 Bali Forum 5 Baluchistan 156 Ban Ki-moon 65, 66, 74, 79 Bangladesh 68, 143 Banisadr, Adulhassan 118

Al-Banna, Atef 23 Al-Baradei, Muhammad 28 Barzani, Massoud 97, 100 corruption 101 ‘Battle of the Camel’ 22 BBC see British Broadcasting Corporation Behind the News 17 Beijing 172 Belarus 126, 124 Ben Ali, Zine el-Abidine 8, 17, 36, 44, 146, 203 overthrow 15, 16, 17, 19, 36 Ben Kirane, Abdelilah 50 Benghazi 74, 235 recapture 77 Benin 3 Benjdid, Chadli 55 resignation 53, 55 Berdymuhammedov, Gurbanguly 136 BERSIH 217, 220, 2.0 rally 215–16, 226–7 3.0 rallies 220 Bhutto, Benazir 152 Bin Ammar, Rashid 31 Bin Jafar, Mustafa 21 El-Bishry, Tareq 23 blogs 178, 181, 204, 208, 229 political 207 BN see Barisan Nasional under Malaysia Bordiuzha, Nikolai 127 Bouazizi, Mohammed 146 Boutefleka, Abdelaziz 56–7, 58, 59 Brazil 80, 83 economic growth 83 Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa (BRICS) 77, 79 Brennan, John 75 BRICS see Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) 113, 189, 207 Burmese Service 187 British Empire 210

Index

251

British India 211 Burma see Myanmar ‘Bus of Liberty’ 132 Bush, George W. 93–4, 167, 214 administration 5, 6 ‘Cabinet’ massacre 28 Cable News Network (CNN) 207 Caid el Sebsi, Beji 19 Cairo 25, 69 Cameron, David 80 Canada 71 capitalism 82 Casablanca bombing 47, 48 CASS see Chinese Academy of Social Sciences under China CCP see Chinese Communist Party under China CCTV 207 Central Asia 121–38 attitudes to Arab Spring 122–37 governments 128 internet 132 media 121 mineral resources 123 opposition parties 135 strategic importance 125 Western policies towards 123–7 youth unemployment 128 see also individual countries by name Chalabi, Ahmed 97 China 5, 80, 82–3, 107, 161–83 Academy of Marxism Studies 162 activism 174–82 activists 177 anti-government discourse 177 Association of Human Rights Research 162 Chinese Academy of Social Sciences (CASS) 162, 163, 171 Chinese Communist Party (CCP) 164, 168, 171, 172 communications technology 177 consultation meetings 175

252

Democracy and Reform in the Middle East and Asia

China cont. counter-culture 177 Cultural Revolution 166 diaomin 180–1, 182 dissidents 10, 175–6 economic growth 83 elections 167, 170, 176 emergency management 173 freedom of speech 182 General Administration of Press and Publications 174 government 168 graduate students 169 grid management system 172 Human Rights Development Foundation 162 information gathering 172 interest in Myanmar 200 internet activism 181 local authorities 176 Manchu China 211 Marxism 182 military 176 Ministry of Culture 174 Ministry of Education 174 Ministry of State Security 164 murder 180 national security 164 NGOs 172–3, 181 Office of Legal Affairs 182 People’s Congress elections 176 petition system 175 police 179, 180 policy towards Libya 165 political reform 167, 168–9 public security system 170, 171 response to Arab Spring 10 shehui guanli 171 social justice 175–6, 178–80, 182 social unrest 171 social welfare 172 Socialist Constitutionalism book series 175 State Administration of Radio, Film and Television 174

State Internet Information Office 174 sudden mass incidents 178 suicide 180 support for UN Resolution 1970 165 underground cultures 177 universities 162 Wei Wen Ban 171 weiwen 181–3 youth 182 China Foundation for International Studies 164 Chizhou ‘26 June incident’ 178 Choudhury, Iftikhar 145 civil liberties 67, 69 ‘Clash of Civilizations’ 7 Clinton, Bill 167 Clinton, Hillary 71, 75, 125–6, 192, 239 visit to Myanmar 194 CNN see Cable News Network Cold War 2, 5 Collective Rapid Reaction Forces (CRRF) 127 Collective Security Treaty Organisation (CSTO) 126–7, 133 summit of 2011 127 ‘colour revolutions’ 165 Communist Party of Malaya (CPM) 222 Coptic churches Egypt 25 Copts 34 Egypt 23 CPM see Communist Party of Malaya CPR see Congress for the Republic under Tunisia crimes against humanity 72, 73, 74 CRRF see Collective Rapid Reaction Forces CSTO see Collective Security Treaty Organisation cyber crime 133 cyber warfare 127 cyberspace 133, 207 Cyclone Nargis 192



Index

Democratic Voice of Burma 187 diaomin 180–1, 182 Difa-e-Pakistan Council (DPC) 153 digital media 152 Donilan, Thomas 75 DPC see Difa-e-Pakistan Council al-Dulaimi, Adnan 97 East Asian Barometer 168 Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) 4–5 Supplementary Protocol on Democracy and Good Governance 5 economic growth 3 ECOWAS see Economic Community of West African States Edelman, Murray 204, 205 Egypt 1, 3, 5–6, 7, 8, 9, 22–9, 36, 43, 48, 68, 69, 70, 101, 105, 109–10, 115, 117, 118, 121, 123, 130, 135, 137–8, 145, 146, 149, 153, 203–4, 233, 234, 239, 243 administration 22 army 33 ban on Islamist groups 17 centralism 36 civil society groups 32 Commission of Political Parties 24 comparison with Iran 109–10 comparison with Tunisia 16–19, 22, 26, 27, 34–5 constitution 22, 23, 25, 30, 33 Constitutional Court 29 Coptic Christians 30 Coptic churches 25 Democratic Alliance for Egypt 27 despotism 36 economic policies 37 Egyptian Bloc 27 Election Committee 29 elections 27, 30, 204 electoral laws 19, 24, 26, 35 electoral system 26 elite 15, 18–19, 35, 38

253 expatriates 27 exports to Israel 32 female protestors 31–2 first-past-the-post system 26, 28 foreign policies 32 Freedom and Justice Party (FJP) 24, 27 gas pipeline to Israel 32 gender equality 26 High Constitutional Court 28 illiteracy 26 intellectuals 29 Islamic Bloc 27 Islamism 33–4, 36–7 Islamist parties 17, 27 Islamists 19, 23, 30, 31, 32, 35, 38 ‘Islamization’ 28 Law of Political Parties 24 liberal forces 30, 31 liberals (Sufis) 34, 38 massacres 28, 31 media 204 military 71 military courts 36 military security 22 National Democratic Party 28 natural gas 32 New Wafd Party 27 parliament 22 parliamentary elections 23, 26 peace treaty with Israel 29, 70 People’s Council 26, 27, 28 political parties 24, 26, 27 presidential elections 22, 23, 28 proportional representation 26, 28, 35 referendum 23, 24 revolution 15–16 Revolution Continues coalition 27 revolutionary youth 28 rule of law 30 Salafi movements 23 Salafis 25, 27, 28, 34 secret police 203 Shura Council 27

254

Democracy and Reform in the Middle East and Asia

Egypt cont. Social Democratic Party 27 Socialist Popular Alliance Party 27 status of Islam 23 Sufis 34 Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) 17, 22, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 38 voter turnout 27 voting system 26 Al-Wasat 27, 34 women’s rights groups 26 youth 39 youth of the revolution 30, 35 youth protest movements 31 elite fragmentation Afghanistan 90–1, 93 Iraq 90–1 ‘end of history’ 7 Erdoğan, Recep Tayyip 34 ethnic cleansing 73 ethnic politics Malaya 212–13 Malaysia 212–13, 215 EU see European Union Europe 67 European Union (EU) 6, 192 foreign aid 173 support for Moroccan monarchy 45 Facebook 11, 131, 133, 203, 204, 208 users 132 Fahrenheit 9/11 226 al-Falimbani, Abdussamad al-Jawi 241 Fang Lizhi 175 Fang Ning 163 al-Fathani, Daud bin Abdullah 241–2 FDI see Foreign Direct Investment under Pakistan female activism Morocco 47 female protestors 31–2 Financial Times 223 first-past-the-post system Egypt 26, 28

FIS see Islamic Salvation Front under Algeria FJP see Freedom and Justice Party under Egypt FLN see National Liberation Front under Algeria ‘flower revolutions’ 165 El-Fotouh, Abdel-Monem Abou 29 Foxconn 180 France 163 policy towards Libya 74 Tunisian residents 21 France 24 207 Freedom House 233 freedom of speech 16 French revolutions 206 Fukuyama 7, 68 G20 245 Gaddafi, Muammar 9, 44, 74, 76, 124, 129–30, 134, 150 capture 77–8 death 190, 235 overthrow 75 Gama’a Islamiyah 234 Ganzoury, Kamal 28 Gates, Robert 75 Gaza Strip 115 GCC see Gulf Cooperation Council gender discrimination Morocco 47 gender equality 26, 45, 205 Morocco 50 Tunisia 21, 31 genocide 73 prevention 74 Germany 80, 163 Tunisian residents 21 Ghana 3 Ghannouchi, Muhammad 19 Al-Ghannoushi, Rashid 33 Gilani, Yusuf Raza 152 Global Barometer for Happiness 137 Global Centre for R2P 73 global economy 66

global financial crisis 128 Global Times 163, 166 global village 207 globalization 2, 7, 66, 83, 224, 225, 228, 229 Goh Keng Swee 222 Golan Heights 113 Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) 4, 111, 112 Gulf Crisis of 1990–1 144 Gulf states 35 Guomindang 212 Hakim, Abd al-Aziz 97 Hakkaoui, Bassima 50 Hamas 114, 115, 117 al-Hamid, Mohsen Abd 97 Haqqani, Husain 155 Haqqani network 96 Hariri, Rafik assassination 113 al-Hashemi, Tariq 100 Hassan II, King of Morocco 45, 46 He Junzhi 176 Heilbrunn, Jacob 75 Hekmatyar, Gulbuddin 96 Heritage Foundation 173 HINDRAF see Hindu Rights Action Force Hindu Rights Action Force (HINDRAF) 215, 217, 220 rally of 2007 216 Hindus Malaysia 216 Hizb ut-Tahrir 155, 235, 241 Hizbullah 107, 113 Syrian support for 113 Homeless International 148 Hong Lim Park 226 Hu Jintao 171 human rights 4, 72, 74, 75, 80, 81, 90, 125, 157, 167, 173, 215–20, 227 abuses 36, 46–7, 78 Algeria 58, 59

Index

255

China 162 Libya 78 Morocco 46–7, 49, 50 Huntington, Samuel P. 7 Huntsman, Jon 166 Hussein, Saddam 100 Ibrahim, Samira 32 ICC see International Criminal Court ICISS see International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty ICT see Information and Communications Technology Iftikhar, Arsalan 149 Ijtihadi Islam 101 Ikhwan 23, 24, 29, 34, 70, 146, 152, 234, 236, 241, 243 forums 244 see also Muslim Brotherhood illiteracy Egypt 26 Morocco 45, 47 IMF see International Monetary Fund India 80, 82, 83 economic growth 83 Indonesia 4, 11–12, 68, 233–45 Bali Democracy Forum 5 citizens working in Egypt 236 comparison with Malaysia 236 constitution 238 decentralization 238 elections 238 Golkar Party 213 historical connections with Middle East 234 Islamic organizations 234, 237 Islamism 235 leadership role 245 media 234–8 military 238 minorities 239 Muslim scholars 241 Muslims 238, 241 New Order 237–8

256

Democracy and Reform in the Middle East and Asia

Indonesia cont. population 233 praise from Western leaders 239, 242, 244 Prosperous Justice Party (PKS) 235, 236, 243, 244 rallies 236 reformasi 233, 234 religious intolerance 240 response to events in Egypt 236 Salafi groups 235 Shi‘ism 237 as source of cheap labour 242 status in the Arab world 241–2, 245 Sunni Muslims 237 trade 245 United Development Party (PPP) 235 Indyk, Martyn 112 Information and Communications Technology (ICT) 11, 123, 204, 206 information war 132 intelligence agencies 7 intelligence gathering 132 International Coalition for R2P 73 International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS) 72, 76, 78 international community 76, 91, 93, 114 International Criminal Court (ICC) 74 International Herald Tribune 228 international law 81 International Monetary Fund (IMF) 37, 46, 54, 214, 228 International Republican Institute 154 internet 131–2, 133, 135, 166, 174, 206–7 blocking 133 censorship 133 influence 131 internet activism China 181 interventionism 89 investment 37

Iran 9, 69, 99, 105–18, 123, 164 arms supply 114 to Hamas 115 attitude to Bahrain uprising 116 attitude to Syrian conflict 113–14, 116 claims over Bahrain 111–12 comparison with Egypt 109–10 Fars News Agency 108 foreign policy 114–15, 116 Green Movement 105, 108, 118 identity 106 news agency 107, 111 news media 107, 113 nuclear program 110 Quds 112 relations with Israel 117 relations with USA 112 response to Bahrain uprising 111–12 revolution of 1979 106, 109 status 115–17 in the Arab world 107 support for Syrian regime 114, 115 Iraq 5, 9, 75, 76, 90–100, 101, 114, 144 Ba‘thism 99 constitution 98 elite 91, 99 fragmentation 90–1, 97, 99 ethnic groups 97 Governing Council 98 invasion of 2003 6, 97, 100 Kurds 98, 100 military intervention 75 occupation 90 parliamentary elections 99 politics 92 regime change 7 secularism 97, 100 Shi‘i Islam 98, 99 Sunni Arabs 98, 99, 100 Iraqi National Accord 97 Iraqi National Congress 97 ISI see Directorate of International Services Intelligence under Pakistan

Islam 2, 3, 9, 18, 90, 92, 101, 105, 116 ‘Islamic Bloc’ 24 liberal bloc 23 radical bloc 89–102, 155 reformist political Islam 101 Shi‘i Islam 92 status in Egypt 23 Sunni Islam 92 Islamic Awakening 107 Islamic Jihad 107 Islamic radicalism 3 Islamism 96, 98, 115, 118, 152 Egypt 23, 36–7 political Islamism 36–7 radical Islamism 109 radical political Islamism 91 Tunisia 36–7 Israel 70–1, 117, 165, 167, 243 comparison with Tunisia 29–35 Egypt’s export of natural gas 32 peace treaty with Egypt 29,70 relations with Iran 117 war with Syria 113 Isyaaq, Luthfi Hasan 244 Italy Tunisian residents 21 Jaafari, Ibrahim 97 Jamaat-e-Islami 153 Japan Liberal Democratic Party 213 Jawa Pos 235 JCM see Islamist Justice and Charity Movement under Morocco Al-Jebali, Hamadi 21 Jemaah Tabligh 235 Jerusalem Post 165 Jihad 107 Jihadi-Salafism 241 Jinnah, Mohammad Ali 154 jizya 34 Jordan 1, 3, 43, 70, 233 JUD see Jamaat ud Da’wa under Pakistan

Index

257

Kachin Independence Organisation 194 Karachi 157 Karimov, Islam 123, 126, 127, 129, 132, 135 Karzai, Hamid 93, 95 Kazakhstan 121, 122, 124, 129, 130, 131, 133, 137 elections 136 Institute for Strategic Studies (KISI) 124, 128 media 122 parliament 136 presidential elections 136 Kennedy, John F. 68 Al Khalifa, Hamad bin Isa 110–11, 112, 116 Khamenei, Seyyed Ali 106–7 Khan, Ayub 145 Khan, Imran 153–4, 156 opposition to US attacks 154 Khan, Raja 146 Khatami, Mohammad 101 Khatib, Ahmad 241 Khilafat Movement 143 Khin Nyunt 192 Khobar Towers bombing 112 KISI see Institute for Strategic Studies under Kazakhstan Kompas 235 Kosovo 72 Krikorian, Mark 75 Kuala Lumpur 212, 215, 216, 217, 223, 227, 229 Kukashenko, Alexander 126 Kurds 97, 98, 100 Kuwait 144, 233 Kyrgyzstan 121, 122, 124, 130, 132, 133 coups 134 ethnic riots 132 NGOs 132 presidential elections 136 secret police 133 Lahore 154 Laumulin, Murat 124 law and order 229

258

Democracy and Reform in the Middle East and Asia

Lead Years (Morocco) 46, 47 Lebanon 114, 243 Syrian role in 113 Lee Hsien Loong 225, 228 Lee Kuan Yew 222 Lehman Brothers financial collapse 226 liberalization of trade 37 Libya 3, 6, 7, 9, 15, 43, 44, 45, 48, 65–84, 101, 102, 105, 107, 121, 123, 135, 138, 145, 146, 149, 150–1, 235 British policy towards 74 civil war 77 French policy towards 74 Gaddafi regime 1 human rights violations 78 interim government 75 Libyan Transitional Council 151 military intervention 66, 73, 75, 77, 80 nation-building 81 NATO military action 75, 78 no-fly zone 165 relationship with Pakistan 150 Security Council Resolution 1973 77 Transitional National Council (TNC) 76–7, 80 UN resolutions 83 war crimes 78 Lim, Sylvia 226 Liu Junning 162, 175 Liu Xiaobo 175 Maghreb 56 Mahathir bin Mohamad 213, 214, 217–19 foreign policy 214 Mahdi Army 98 Makhzen 45, 47, 48, 50, 51–2, 59, 60 Malaya 210–11 Communist Party 212 elections 212 elite 211, 212 ethnic politics 212–13 Federation of 211 Islam 211 Japanese occupation 210–11

migrant groups 210, 212 nationalism 211 racial tensions 211 Malayan Chinese Association 211–12 Malayan Democratic Union 211 Malayan Indian Congress 212 Malayan Union 211 Plan of 1946 221 Malaysia 11, 68, 203, 208, 210–23, 229, 241, 243 Arab investment 214 Barisan Nasional (BN) 212, 213, 214, 215–20, 229 constitution 213 construction industry 213 corruption 214, 215, 217–18 currency 214 demonstrations 215 economic growth 213 elections 210, 213, 215–20 electoral fraud 220 elite 210–15, 217 energy industry 213 ethnic politics 212–13, 215 exchange rate 214 foreign investment 213, 214 gender equality 205 general elections 214, 220 Hindus 216 independence 210 infrastructure 214 Internal Security Act 213, 220 Islamic fundamentalists 213 Islamic youth movement 214 mainstream press 204 media 213 monarchy 210 Muslim scholars 241 NGOs 215, 220 oil reserves 214 online media 205 Pakatan Rakyat coalition 215, 220 politics 204, 213 Proton 213 racial riots 212



Index

response to events in Egypt 236 response to Iranian revolution 237 telecommunications industry 213 television 204 tourism 214 transportation industry 213 uprisings 208 Malaysia Chronicle 217 Malaysiakini 216, 217 Malaysian Chinese Association (MCA) 212, 223 Malaysian Federation 222–3 Malaysian Indian Congress (MIC) 212 al-Maliki, Nuri 97, 98, 99, 100 Malott, John 217 Mamfankinch 52 Mao Zedong 82 market economy 67 MARUAH 227 Marxism 163 Marzouki, Moncef 21 Mas’udi, Masdar F. 241 Matta, Anis 244 MCA see Malaysian Chinese Association McCain, John 166, 189 MDGs see Millennium Development Goals Mebazaa, Fouad 19, 20, 31 media 5, 7, 189, 229 digital 152 online 11 see also social media MENA see Middle East and North Africa region Menglian incident 179 MERCOSUR see Southern Common Market Merkel, Angela 71 MIC see Malaysian Indian Congress microblogs 181 Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region 46, 122, 123, 128, 134, 143, 144 regime change 125 military action 89

259

military courts Egypt 36 Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) 67, 149 Millennium Development Goals Report 2012 149 Milosevic, Slobodan 173 mobile phones 133, 204 Mohajirs 157 ‘Mohammad Mahmud’ massacre 28 Mohammadi, Muhammad 107 Mohammed VI of Morocco 45, 46, 49 popularity 52 Morocco 8, 9, 43–4, 45–53, 59–60 activists 48 business sector 48 coalitions 52 constitution 45, 50 constitutional reform 44, 45, 46, 48–50 cultural diversity 50 deferred democracy 51–3 economic reform 46 elections 52 elite 44, 45, 48, 52, 59 exceptionalism 45 female activism 47 food subsidies 50 gender discrimination 47 gender equality 45, 50 human rights 49, 50 human rights abuses 46–7 illiteracy 45, 47 Islamist Justice and Charity Movement (JCM) 48 Islamists 47, 48 Istiklal party 50 judiciary 50 Justice and Development Party (PJD) 48, 50, 52 Lead Years 47 Makhzen 45, 59, 60 Ministry of Foreign Affairs 50 Ministry of Justice 50 monarchy 44, 45–6, 48, 49, 51, 59

260

Democracy and Reform in the Middle East and Asia

Morocco cont. Mudawwana 47 parliament 50 parliamentary elections 50 party politics 51 Polisario Front 49 political parties 47, 48, 51 political stability 45 popular demonstrations 44, 45 Popular Movement 50 poverty 46 privatization 46 proportional representation 52 public services 52 rule of law 45 social justice 52 torture 47 20 February Pro-democracy Movement 48–50, 51–2 unemployment 45 women’s status 47 Morsi, Mohammad 29, 115, 117 USA support 29 Motahhari, Morteza 237 Moussa, Amr 29 MQM see Muttahida Qaumu Movement under Pakistan Mubarak, Gamal 32, 69 Mubarak, Hosni 1, 8, 16, 17, 31, 32, 36, 69, 70, 71, 110, 124, 134, 203 protestors 71 regime 6, 38 resignation 15, 22, 25, 36, 105, 234–5 trial 25 Mudawwana 47 reform 47 Muhammadiyah 236, 244 Mujahideen 94, 95 Multimedia Super Corridor 213 Mursyidul A’am 244 Musharraf, Pervez 145 regime 152 Muslim 500 242

Muslim Brotherhood 24, 105, 109, 110, 115, 116, 117, 146 see also Ikhwan Mustafa, Azab 34 Myanmar 5, 11, 187–200, 209 ‘abusive’ regulation 198 activists 191 army 197 Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) 194, 199 attitude to Arab uprisings 187, 188, 189 Buddhist monks 196 Burmese elite 11 censorship 188, 189 China’s interest in 200 constitution 192, 195 constitutional referendum of 2008 193 democracy movements 196 diaspora 194 elections 192, 195 foreign policy 199–200 freedom of expression 198 Guarantees, Pledges and Undertakings Scrutiny Committee 197 Hillary Clinton’s visit 194 human rights groups 198 liberalization 188 media 189 military regime 191, 192, 195, 197 military rule 194 National Assembly 192–3, 197, 198 political reform 199 political system 197 popular opinion 187 population 190 print media 188 Public Accounts Committee 197 public opinion 195 public protest law 197 Pyithu Hluttaw 189 radio 187 reconciliation with Aung San Suu Kyi 199



Index

‘Road Map’ 192, 193, 194, 195 Saffron Revolution 192, 193, 196 sanctions against 191–2 State Law and Restoration Council 192 State Peace and Development Council 192 street protests 196 television 187 transnational crime 199 uprisings of 1988 193 USA sanctions 200 USA’s policies towards 200 Myanmar Times 190 Al-Nahda Islamist Party 21, 31, 33, 235 Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) 236, 244 Najib Tun Razak 215, 217, 219, 220 comparison with Gaddafi 216 Nasser, Gamal Abdel 22 Nasserites 29 nationalism 3, 4, 81 NATO see North Atlantic Treaty Organization Nazarbaev, Nursultan 126, 134 NDS see National Directorate of Security under Afghanistan NED see National Endowment for Democracy under United States of America neo-Sufism 241 9/11 attacks 5, 69, 93 NLD see National League for Democracy under Aung San Suu Kyi NMPs see Nominated Members of Parliament under Singapore Non-Aligned Movement 115 non-intervention 4 North America Tunisian residents 21 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) 9, 66, 76, 77–9, 165 Libyan air strikes 78 military action in Libya 75 supply routes 153

261

Al-Nour 34 NRO see National Reconciliation Order under Pakistan NU see Nahdlatul Ulama Nussbaum, Martha 206 OAS see Organization of American States Obama, Barack 71, 74–5, 94, 239 administration 6 Occupy Wall Street 224 ‘October 18 for Rights and Freedoms’ 30 ‘October 18 Forum’ 30–31 OECD see Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development OIC see Organization of Islamic Cooperation oil prices 144 oligarchy 37 Oman 1 online activism 132 online media 11 Operation ‘Enduring Freedom’ 93 Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) sanctions against Myanmar 191–9 Organization of American States (OAS) 5 Inter-American Democratic Charter 5 Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) 243 Otunbaeva, Roza 130 Pakatan Rakyat 219 Pakistan 10, 93, 143–57 alliance with USA 154 Armed Forces Institute of Cardiology (AFIC) 151 corruption 151, 156 defence 143 demonstrations 150 Directorate of International Services Intelligence (ISI) 96 economic growth 146–7 electricity supply 148

262

Democracy and Reform in the Middle East and Asia

Pakistan cont. elite 144, 150 fertility rate 147 floods 149 Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) 146 gas supply 148 GDP 143 Gilgit–Baltistan regions 156 income inequalities 149 intelligence agencies 155 Islamism 146, 155 Islamist groups 153, 155 Islamist policies 155 Jamaat ud Da’wa (JUD) 153, 154 judiciary 151 lawlessness 156 Lawyers Movement 145 media 145, 150 Memogate scandal 155 middle class 148–9 military 145, 149, 151 military institutions 143 Muttahida Qaumu Movement (MQM) 157 National Reconciliation Order (NRO) 152 political fragmentation 155, 157 politics 10 population 146–7 poverty 146–8, 149 relationship with Libya 150 response to Arab Spring 145–54 rural communities 149 satire 150 secession 156 Shi‘i groups 153 suicide rates 146, 148 Sunni groups 153 support of Taliban 94 Supreme Court 152 Tehrik-e-Insaf (PTI) 153, 154, 156–7 unemployment 152 urbanization 148 youth 147, 150, 152, 154

Pakistan Muslim League (PML-N) 157 Pakistan People’s Party (PPP) 150, 151, 152 Pakistan Social and Living Standard Measurements Survey 148 Palestine 68, 70, 75, 105 Hamas 114, 115, 117 PAP see People’s Action Party under Singapore Parti Islam se Malaysia (PAS) 211, 214 PAS see Parti Islam se Malaysia Pashtuns 96, 157 People’s Daily 166 Pervaiz, Raja Ashraf 152 Pew Global Attitudes Project 154 PJD see Justice and Development Party under Morocco PKS see Prosperous Justice Party under Indonesia Poland 173 political Islam 76 political parties 16 pouvoir, le 54, 55–7, 60 poverty 37 Morocco 46 Power, Samantha 75 PPP see Pakistan People’s Party; United Development Party under Indonesia PR see proportional representation privatization 37 pro-democracy movements 43 proportional representation (PR) Egypt 26, 28, 35 elite 35 Morocco 52 Tunisia 20–21, 26, 35 PTI see Tehrik-e-Insaf under Pakistan public protests 130 Putin, Vladimir 123 Qanooni, Yonous 94 Qatar 115 R2P see Responsibility to Protect Rabbani, Burhannuddin 95, 107

Radical Islam 89–102 Radio Free Asia 187 Rafsanjani, Akbar-Hashemi 108 Rahmon, Emomali 124, 134–5 Rajaratnam, S. 222 rape claims 32 Razak, Najib 209 RCD see Constitutional Democratic Rally under Tunisia recession 225 refugees 4 regionalism 4 Reith Lectures 189 Republika 235 Responsibility to Protect (R2P) 6, 9, 65, 66, 71–5, 76, 77–81, 83, 84 Global Centre 73 International Coalition 73 Pillar One 74 Pillar Three 74, 77 Pillar Two 74 Riaz, Malik 149 Rice, Susan 75 Rudd, Kevin 239 rule of law 30, 43, 67, 69, 90 Russia 9, 79, 80, 83, 107, 123, 126, 166 Russia Today 207 Rwanda 72 Sabbahy, Hamdeen 29 Sabili 235 SADC see Southern African Development Community al-Sadr, Muqtada 98, 99, 100 Saeed, Hafiz 153 Saffron Revolution 192, 193, 196 Sahnoun, Mohamed 72 Saigon Business Corporation Private Limited 208 Salafism 16, 38, 241 Saleh, Ali 1 Saleh, Amrullah 94 Saleh, Sobhi 23, 33–4 Salih, Muhammad 135 Sarkozy, Nicolas 80

Index

263

satellite TV 189 Saudi Arabia 1, 43, 70, 75, 110, 143, 151 security forces 111 support for Al Khalifa family 111 SCAF see Supreme Council of the Armed Forces under Egypt SCO see Shanghai Cooperation Organisation Security Council Resolution 1973 6, 77, 79 China’s abstention 165 Shafiq, Ahmad 22, 29 Shahid Javed Burki 209 Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (SCO) 123 summit of 2011 134 Sharaf, Essam 22, 28 government 28 sharia 76, 155 Shariati, Ali 237 Sharif, Nawaz 144, 157 Shimon Peres Center for Peace 243 Shwe Mann 189 Siew Kum Hong 226 Al-Silmi, Ali 33–4 Al-Silmi Document 33 Sina Weibo 177 Sindh 157 Singapore 11, 203, 208, 214, 221–9, 241 activists 228 banks 226 bloggers 225 British rule 221 Communists 222, 223 comparison with Malaysia 223 economic growth 225 elections 209, 222, 223 elite 222 Films Act 225–6 foreign workers 225 gender equality 205 general election of 2011 229 Hong Lim Park 226–7, 228 human rights 227 independence 221, 222, 223 infrastructure 225

264

Democracy and Reform in the Middle East and Asia

Singapore cont. investors in Lehman Brothers 226 Labour Front 221 mainstream press 204 media 223 multiracialism 226 nationalism 221 nation-building 226 Nominated Members of Parliament (NMPs) 225 online media 205 People’s Action Party (PAP) 213, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227, 229 People’s Association 223 People’s Progressive Party 221 politics 204 racial riot of 1964 223 reaction to Arab uprisings 223–4, 228 separation from Malaya 221 television 204 uprisings 208 websites 223–4, 225 Workers’ Party 226 Singapore Communists 222 Singapore Legislative Assembly 221 SMS activism 132 social exchange websites 208 social justice 128–31 social media 10, 11, 45, 48, 123, 131–4, 174, 218, 229 blocking 133 censorship 133 see also media social networks 181, 207 social subsidies 37 Soros, George 214 Soros Foundation 132 Southeast Asia 199 Southern African Development Community (SADC) 4–5 Southern Common Market (MERCOSUR) 5 sovereignty 4 Soviet Bloc collapse 5

Soviet Union break-up 2 Spiegel 109 state-building 9, 91 Steinberg, David 190 Strategic Partnership Agreement 94 Suara Hidayatullah 235 Sufi spiritualists 16 Suharto 4, 213, 233–4, 237, 239, 243 resignation 238 stance on Islam 238 Syria 1, 3, 6, 7, 9, 15, 43, 45, 70, 75, 79, 83, 105, 106, 107, 108, 110, 113–15, 123, 166 Muslim Brotherhood 110 role in Lebanon 113 Russian resistance to Security Council resolutions 66 Shi‘a 115, 116 Sunni 116 support for Hizbullah 113 war with Israel 113 Tahrir Square 22, 25, 31–2, 38, 224, 229 youth 28 Taiwan 167 Tajikistan 121, 122, 124, 131, 133, 135, 136 Centre for Strategic Studies 125 civil war 134 Islamic Renaissance Party 135 presidential elections 136 public opinion survey 137 Al-Takattol 21 Talabani, Jalal 97 Taliban 93, 95, 96 Pakistani support of 94 Tan Kin Lian 226 Al-Tantawi, Field Marshal 22 Tanzim al-Alami 244 Tarbiyah movement 243 Tartus (Russian naval supply base) 79 Tayfour, Mohammad Farouk 110 Technologies of the ‘Arab Spring’ 131 Tehran 69



Index

Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan 155 telecommunications 72 Tempo 235 terrorism 47, 70 Thailand 241 Thaksin Shinawatra 209 Than Shwe 194, 196 Thein Sein 196 theonlinecitizen.com 224, 227 Tibet 167, 173 TNC see Transitional National Council under Libya Tocqueville, Alexis de 205 Togo 3 torture 36 Algeria 59 Morocco 47 Transparency International 149 Tripoli 75, 80, 235 Tunisia 1, 3, 6, 8, 9, 19–21, 36, 43, 48, 70, 101, 105, 118, 121, 123, 137–8, 145, 146, 152–3, 203–4, 233 Al-Aridha 34 ban on Islamist groups 17 Ben Ali regime 1, 30 Bourgiba regime 30 centralism 36 coalition building 30 coalition government 19 comparison with Egypt 16–19, 26, 27, 29–35 Congress for the Republic (CPR) 21 Constituent Assembly 20, 21, 35 constitution 20, 21, 30 Constitutional Council 19 Constitutional Democratic Rally (RCD) 19 Declaration on the Transitional Path 20 despotism 36 economic policies 37 elections 204, 235 electoral laws 19, 35 elite 15, 18–19 expatriates 21

265

gender equality 21, 31 High Commission 20 Independent Higher Electoral Commission 20 Islamism 19, 33–4, 36–7 Jasmine Revolution 146 legislation 20 liberals 33 media 204 Al-Nahda Islamist Party 21 presidential elections 20 proportional representation (PR) 20–21, 26, 35 revolution 15–16 street protests 19 written constitution 30 Turkey 68, 77, 115–16, 117, 236 Justice and Development Party (AKP) 10, 34, 117 Turkmenistan 121, 122, 133 elections 136 media 121–2 neutrality 127 24-hour news coverage 207 Twitter 11, 132, 133, 177, 203, 204, 208 Ukraine Orange Revolution 130, 173 UMNO see United Malays National Organization unemployment 3 UN see United Nations United Malays National Organization (UMNO) 211, 212, 213, 214, 219, 220, 223 United Nations (UN) 6, 65, 71, 72, 76, 83 arms embargo to Libya 78 Chapter VII of the UN Charter 65 General Assembly 73, 83 Human Rights Council 74 Millennium Declaration 67 Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) 67, 149 resolutions on Libya 83

266

Democracy and Reform in the Middle East and Asia

United Nations cont. Security Council 6, 65, 72, 74, 79, 80, 83, 107, 114, 165, 166, 242 Security Council Resolution 1973 6, 74, 77, 79 summit of 2005 78 United States of America (USA) 1, 67, 68, 70, 74, 75, 91, 92, 93, 107, 163, 164, 166 attitude towards Pakistan 157 external development agencies 240 foreign aid 6, 173 National Endowment for Democracy (NED) 164, 173 policies towards Myanmar 200 policy-makers 69 relations with Iran 112 sanctions against Myanmar 200 stance on Myanmar 194 support for Moroccan monarchy 45 support of Morsi 29 values 69 Universal Declaration of Human Rights 90, 101 USA see United States of America USAID 240 Uzbekistan 121, 122, 123, 126, 129, 133, 136 bloggers 132 child mortality 129 education 129 GDP 129 incomes 129 journalists 132 media 122 public health 129 public unrest 134

WB see World Bank websites 133, 207 weiwen 181–3 Wen Jiabao 169 Weng’an ‘28 June incident’ 179 Wenling 168 Western diplomacy 126 Western media 131 Whitehead, Laurence 204, 206 WHO see World Health Organization Wolfowitz, Paul 228, 239 women’s rights groups Egypt 26 World Bank (WB) 37, 54, 228 World Health Organization (WHO) 151 World Values Survey 2001 168

‘virginity test’ 31 virtual communities 204 Voice of America 109, 187

Zardari, Asif Ali 150, 151, 152 Zarganar 189 al-Zawahiri, Ayman 153 Zeguo 168 Zhang Dejiang 171 Zhang Zhijun 166 Zheijiang 168

Wahid, Abdurrahman 101, 243 war crimes 73, 78 ‘war on terror’ 5, 47, 93, 214

Xi Jinping 170 visit to Mexico 170–1 Xin Wang 178 Xinhe 168 Xinjiang 172, 173 Yahoo.com.sg 224 Yangon 190 Yassin, Al-Sayed 35 Yassine, Adesslam 48 Years of Lead see Lead Years Yemen 1, 15, 43, 45, 70, 75, 101, 135 YourVietnamExpert 208 YouTube 133, 216, 225 Yu Jianrong 179 Yu Keping 169 Yu Shiyu 167 Yudhoyono, Susilo Bambang 236, 239 role in international diplomacy 242–3