Saturday, 12 February 2011
Egypt: That Parade, This RainQuote: “The generals say they will guarantee reform.”
You’ll forgive me if I just dropped my laudanum and my service revolver. The TV news is rolling. Eager telly producers the world around are laying anthemic pop tracks over shots of happy Egyptians while relaying the usual Obama-feed.
Democracy, it turns out, is a good thing. The president just said so. Obama is talking about history as though speaking of a personal friend. He’s also talking about what must be.
Take it from a man who just ordered a military coup, eh?
Speaking live from my front room, though, I wonder, being difficult, about the connection between supreme military councils and the people’s will. Since I’m not Egyptian, I don’t necessarily love the army that kept Hosni Mubarak in power for 30 years. Since, unlike the President of These United States, I’ve actually read some history, I don’t believe revolutions work that way. But I quibble.
What makes me curious is all the cheering coverage. Is there a script? In living reality, Obama’s White House will be terrified, right now, by what the cast changes in Egypt might portend. To paraphrase: “Democracy? Oh, crap.”
Our counterpoint will be informed by an equal and opposite assumption. For al-Jazeera’s Gulf audience (and owners) the idea that representative legitimacy might catch on across the region will also elicit a startling thought. Something like, “Democracy? Oh, crap”.
Egypt’s ancient generals have their work cut out. The trick – and the Pentagon will be gaming this one – will be to let the youngsters argue and vote without allowing a single important difference to occur in Egypt’s politics or policies.
Secondly, and vastly more important to America’s own numerous generals, is the issue of what old Dr Henry “Death” Kissinger used to call linkage. If this democracy idea – which is a good thing – gets out, “Oh, crap” will barely cover it for America and her friends.
Whom might those be? Three, as a rule: Egypt, Saudi, and the little Jewish one the others pretend to hate. If Mubarak has been sold for scrap, the implications of his fall matter only, in American eyes, to the extent that they affect Israel and Saudi Arabia. But if the democracy idea gets around, who knows what might happen?
Israel and the House of Saud confronted with democracies everywhere they turn? Would that be another good thing?
Mubarak’s kiss-off – was he arguing over the pension plan? – caught me and numerous others in mid-ponder yesterday. The following is therefore the rewrite, rough in places, from this week’s turtle-and-hare race. It should appear, more or less, in The Herald this morning.
Clumsy or not, the piece means to address the idea that all of the west’s rhetoric about democracy is coming home for a long roost. The hypocrisy is easy to identify. Watching the Cairo demonstrators was sad, though, only because you could glimpse the outlines – medals, braid, guns and all – of the betrayal to come. But what happens if, when, those afflicted people decide that democracy isn’t all it was cracked up to be?
Lying through our teeth, we sold them liberation. When they catch on, those betrayed people, they might choose to rattle our cages, too. Anyhow...
L’etat, c’est moi. Such was the gist of Hosni Mubarak’s speech to his country on Thursday night. Egypt’s own Sun King was less defiant than supremely complacent. I am the state: if I fall, it falls. Therefore, I cannot fall and will not fall. I will depart when I choose, with my dignity (and wealth) intact.
It didn’t turn out that way. Three decades of one-man rule may have left the world wondering about the chaos that might descend after Mubarak’s passing. He designed that fear, if you like, by allowing no alternatives to his authority. He said it was him or anarchy. Yesterday, finally, the Egyptian military, no doubt nudged by their friends in the Pentagon, chose to differ.
A victory, then, for American policy? More like an act of desperation. The removal of a dictatorship by a military coup is no ringing endorsement of democracy. On Thursday, a cheerful Barack Obama seemed convinced that the crisis was reaching a decent, manageable end. A swift, “orderly transition” to democracy was at hand. Then Mubarak cocked a snook. The White House paused, shocked and confused.
In his televised speech Mubarak went out of his way to tell the US – “I have never succumbed to any international pressure” – where it could stick its advice. No doubt this was the last straw for Obama and Egypt’s generals. But the assumption of control by a supreme military council is hardly ideal for Obama, despite the jubilation of the Cairo protesters. The outcome may be welcome, but it reeks of bad old days and bad old ways. It says little for the reach and grasp of the last superpower.
But that’s becoming common. Israel also cocks its snook, when the mood takes it, at its “closest ally”. Pakistan, “bulwark against terror”, is a long way short of reliable. Afghanistan’s Hamid Karzai, secure in Kabul thanks only to US firepower, frequently tells his patron what he will and will not tolerate. Then there’s Saudi Arabia’s King Abdullah, oil-hungry America’s most-favoured friend of all.
At the end of January, according to the Times, that autocrat reprimanded the President of the United States, instructing Obama to avoid humiliating his good friend Hosni. If America persisted, the king himself would put up the $1.5 billion in aid given annually by the US in exchange for influence. Thanks to American motorists, Abdullah can afford small change. Thanks to Mubarak, we now know that $1.5 billion doesn’t buy much.
The US may have won the contest, but only just, and only by the least attractive means. Mubarak came very close to proving that a determined dictator can defy an American president. There has been nothing neat, tidy, or – let’s be brutal – inspiring about the means used to force his “resignation”.
Iraq and Afghanistan have demonstrated that American power is a fragile concept. The capacity to blow up things and people – for a price that a hugely indebted US can ill afford – is no guarantee that strategic aims will be achieved. The ability to invade a country is one thing; the ability to hold it another. The idea that America can tame and shape an entire region, the Middle East above all, is an illusion, especially when, as now, an American president is baffled by contradictory demands.
Egypt is the obvious case at hand, but scarcely alone. Ever since the people of Tunisia decided that enough was enough, the US has been confronting a paradox. Democracy is the vaunted ideal: so much (supposedly) goes without saying. But what if the popular will produces unsought (for America) outcomes?
A simple example, currently agitating minds in Tel Aviv: what are the chances of a newly-democratic Egypt deciding that Israel has been indulged for too long, that the price of peace has been the betrayal of the Palestinian people? The chances, at a rough guess, are excellent.
You could say the same about Jordan, another of those friendly family businesses. The common people there have a long, shared history with the Israelis, and few happy memories. Democracy would give Jordanians the chance to emulate the people of Gaza, and vote for their equivalent of Hamas. If that happened the US and Israel would not be able to pretend that a coup – the fiction inflicted on Hamas and Gaza – had been mounted.
Finally, there is America’s biggest nightmare, and the real reason why Abdullah stood ready to write a cheque for his chum in Cairo. If the Middle East’s democracy movement can be pictured as a spreading wave, what is there now to prevent that wave from crashing over the big beach called Saudi, and over a royal house that needs no lessons in corruption and oppression from Mubarak?
Few would mourn, but the US – and Europe – would panic. Oil dependence constitutes two vast, interlocking problems. One is obvious: production has probably peaked. At best, the stuff is becoming much harder to find. Secondly, those who still have oil to sell are generally not the people with whom you would choose to do business, in an ideal world.
They range from vexatious (for America) left-wing states such as Venezuela, to “mafia regimes” (say US diplomats) such as Russia, or to those sweethearts in Saudi. The US has courted, coddled and indulged the last of these for over half a century. A blind eye has been turned to every excess. Talk of spreading “our values” is suspended on the instant one of those repressive, filthy-rich princelings hoves into view.
No one in American government, of either party, has ever talked of an “orderly transition” to democracy where Saudi Arabia is concerned. They wouldn’t dare. It is a cardinal rule of the last superpower’s foreign policy that the House of Saud must never, ever be offended. Even the fact that most of the 9/11 bombers sprang from Saudi Arabia, and from its malevolent fundamentalist Wahabi sect, is rarely discussed in front of American voters. Who really funds al Qaeda and the Taliban? Don’t ask.
You can see Obama’s problem, then. If the US president endorses democracy and the demonstrators in Tahrir Square, why not do the same for Saudi Arabia and its people? If a 30-year secret police state in one country can no longer be defended, what justifies support for venal, oil-fuelled medievalism on the other side of the Red Sea?
A simple answer: because devout folk in Saudi might take it into their heads to install a government of Islamists. What was deemed unsayable after 9/11 is fast becoming the only thing worth saying: free peoples are not likely to accept the embrace of the foreigners, the US and Britain above all, who courted and supported the autocrats for all those years, who allowed Israel to do as it pleased with the Palestinians, and who, for an encore, took to killing Muslims in Iraq, Pakistan and Afghanistan.
If the point was to defeat fundamentalism, America and friends have picked some strategies. Reports from Cairo certainly suggest that the demonstrators, secular or not, conservative or liberal, are no lovers of the US or Britain. What did we expect, exactly?
And when might we realise that the phrase “the last superpower” has a hitherto unsuspected meaning? In the last of something, as often as not, lies its end.