Such presidential systems often displayed a deep contradiction, on the one hand centralizing power within a presidency intimately embedded within the armed forces or the police, while on the other hand relying on the legitimizing powers of the constitution and regularly held parliamentary elections.32 Such a contradiction resulted in five basic weaknesses: problems of political management; the emergence of a large crony sector; the system’s inability to incorporate the young into its political and ideological projects; the regime’s limited capacities to respond to domestic crises; and a preoccupation with stability at almost all costs.33 Whenever the state was faced with a crisis, its default response was to become more repressive. Over time, “security states” emerged with highly uneven consequences for their citizens, allowing great freedoms and opportunities for enrichment to a few but closing off most life chances to others.34 Presidents, meanwhile, became increasingly more convinced of “the myth of their own governing skills and so on their own indispensable role as guardians and promoters of their country’s security and national progress.”35
One of the interesting features of a number of the security states was the retreat of the army out of actual institutions of power, especially the executive, and its return to the barracks. Steadily, the army, from which most presidents originally hailed, became depoliticized and professionalized, replaced instead by the police and the intelligence services as the primary supporting pillar of the state.36 The replacement of the military with the police as one of the primary sources of regime support meant the state’s continued reliance on repression as its default posture in relation to society. In fact, as the president’s powers increased, so did his reliance on the police and intelligence agencies.37 In Egypt, as the military pulled back from politics and as the police steadily took over the buttressing of the political system, the popularity of the military was somewhat restored and that of the police increasingly declined.38 Under Mubarak, the Egyptian military became more involved in economic and business matters, acquiring its own commercial interests.39 In Algeria, President Bouteflika similarly oversaw a steady demilitarization of the state machinery in the 1990s, reinstating instead the executive presidency as the supreme arbiter of policy debates and conflicts of interest.40 The Algerian military, of course, sought to push back against curbs on its powers, ultimately unsuccessfully, having to contend with Bouteflika’s reelection in 2004 and again in 2009.
The security state maintained a plethora of mechanisms for regime legitimation, including regular elections, occasional referendums, official or semiofficial human rights organizations, and, invariably, a Ministry of Social Welfare.41 But the police and the security agencies were so pervasive that often the number of people employed by them exceeded the number of soldiers in the armed forces.42 In Ben Ali’s Tunisia, an estimated 10 percent of the population were somehow sustained by employment in the state’s security services.43 Meanwhile, the government party, the Con-stitutional Democratic Rally, RCD, claimed a membership of two million in a country with a total population of only ten million.44 In Egypt, by the late 2000s the internal security service outnumbered active military personnel by three to one and was estimated to be an astounding 1.5 million strong.45
The state often also relied on capitalists to finance, or at least to oversee, many of the state’s development projects and initiatives. Many of these capitalists, with intimate personal ties to the president and his family members, were beneficiaries of the sale of state assets in uncompetitive bids at bargain prices.46 Egypt’s National Democratic Party became “the party of big business,” its top members being the likes of Ahmed Ezz, the steel magnate, and Taher Helmy, the president of the American Chamber of Commerce in Egypt.47
In the 1980s and the 1990s, structural adjustment programs forced states across the Middle East to pull back from providing a number of welfare service and social programs. Often with state encouragement, as in Egypt, religious welfare and charity organizations stepped in to fill the gap and to provide services left undelivered by the state’s retreat.48 Importantly, Islamic charity and social services did not grow only in opposition to the state: as was the case in Egypt, they developed a symbiotic, mutually reinforcing relationship with it.49 Ironically, therefore, repressive authoritarianism and a vibrant civil society often coexisted side by side.50
Economic difficulties also prompted states to recalibrate their social postures in ways that served their purposes, sometimes by liberalizing but more often by falling back on their default impulse to intensify repression. The 1990s saw modest liberalization experiments of one form or another across the region. Even Saudi Arabia saw a political opening of sorts in 1992, when King Fahd announced the convening of a national consultative council.51 And in Yemen “a democratic environment was flourishing.”52 In 2005, an “Arab Spring” of sorts began unfolding in the region. Iraqis went to the polls for the first time since the fall of Saddam; Syria withdrew from Lebanon after mass protests in downtown Beirut; Saudi Arabia staged municipal elections; and determined opposition by Egyptian activists forced Mubarak to give meaning and substance, albeit temporarily, to his promises of reforms.53
Most states responded to the economic difficulties of the 1980s and the 1990s politically, through limited openings, rather than economically, through structural adjustment programs such as reducing subsidies or shedding some of the weight of bloated bureaucracies. The structural problems of the economy therefore went unaddressed, with the state constantly searching for new ways to mask its deficiencies and difficulties. But unemployment remained a chronic problem, and with it astoundingly high levels of poverty. By early 2008, to take one example, some 40 percent of Egyptians were living on less than $2 a day.54 In 2010, Syria’s official unemployment rate was 8 percent. But independent estimates put the number closer to 20 percent.55
Given the necessities of rule, regimes across the region retained a high degree of pragmatism, using ideologies in quite instrumentalist ways. By and large, to fit the state’s changing political needs as dictated by circumstances, official ideologies were so watered down as to include nothing more than the twin pillars of development and nationalism.56 In Egypt, in the 1970s the state combined brutal repression in Upper and Middle Egypt with “a cynical bargain with some devoted enemies of the secular idea.”57 In the 1990s, it turned a blind eye toward the Islamist discourse so long as it did not directly challenge the state and its legitimacy.58 Others were less subtle in seeking to manipulate popular sentiments for political purposes. In Bahrain, throughout the 2000s the state retrenched and sought shelter in sectarianism to compensate for its diminishing support among the country’s Shiʿites. It continued to gerrymander districts and embarked on a campaign of strategic naturalization of Sunnis from neighboring states. In 2006 it refused to work with the Shiʿite Al-Wefaq Party even after the Al-Wefaq’s decision to take part in parliamentary elections had resulted in a breakaway splinter called the Al Haq.59 Not surprisingly, the Al-Khalifa monarchy’s efforts aimed at marginalizing the Al-Wefaq, which was willing to work within the system, cost the ruling family what little legitimacy it had left among the country’s Shiʿite population.60
RULING BARGAINS AND THEIR UNRAVELING
Regardless of the robustness of its coercive apparatus, no state can rule through sheer repression alone, and it must strive to carve out for itself some semblance of legitimacy, no matter how narrow and contrived, with some sectors of the population. In the Middle East this effort crystallized in the form of a state-imposed ruling bargain. In broad terms, this ruling bargain was an implicit understanding that evolved over time between state elites on the one hand and social actors on the other, based on which the state sought to cater to the economic, physical, and emotional needs of the populace in return for general political compliance and consent. The emerging—or, more appropriately, imposed—state-society consensus had its share of frictions, and periodic episodes of economic slowdown or outright political incapacity (as in Iran in the late 1970s, Egypt
in the early 1980s, and Jordan and Morocco in the late 1980s) resulted at times in violent bouts of political instability. By and large, however, with the exception of pre-revolutionary Iran, Middle Eastern states were able to effectively respond to the various crises that cropped up until the late 2000s, and, backed by a fair amount of coercion, reestablished old ruling bargains, albeit often with slightly modified reformulations.
These modified formats invariably took the shape of institutional devices aimed at broadening the scope of state inclusiveness, such as the majlis in the Arabian peninsula or the parliament in Morocco, Jordan, and Kuwait. But they served primarily as safety valves, institutional modifications de--signed to make entrenched authoritarianism appear more palatable. In the long run, they undermined the prospects of democratization by strengthening authoritarian elites and enhancing the institutional mechanism by which the state could respond to emerging crises and threats. Social actors, meanwhile, remained largely on the sidelines, threatened with arrests, imprisonment, and even death if they openly and directly called on state leaders to abide by the principles of democracy. The evolving “national dialogue” among activists and the literati—as carried on in journals, newspapers, and books—thus became preoccupied with evading government censorship and harassment.
Specific national variations notwithstanding, throughout the Middle East the ruling bargain has been predicated on four primary, mutually reinforcing pillars. The first is the state’s presentation of itself as the sole and ultimate guarantor of the “national interest.” The second is patrimonialism, through which the state’s “protection” of the national interest often assumes a personal character and extends down through successive, overlapping layers of patrons and clients. Closely related to patrimonialism is a third feature of the ruling bargain, namely the existence of a corporatist political economy through which the private sector’s cooperation with the state and the state’s ultimate superiority are guaranteed. The fourth and last feature is state authoritarianism, whereby the compliance of those who may question the merits of the three other aspects of the bargain is guaranteed.
The state asserts its nationalist legitimacy by presenting itself as the historic extension, and therefore the rightful protector, of nationalism. In the aftermath of the 1973 War and the sobering realities of global economics and diplomacy, nationalism in the Middle East lost some of its raw ideological edge, especially as Nasserism became more of a distant memory. Instead, nationalism became more of an implicit phenomenon than an explicit guiding force. It did not lose its compelling qualities, however, and everywhere in the Middle East it continued to be part of the implied understanding on which the state’s larger legitimacy rested. But only in three countries—Iran, Iraq, and Libya—where its blatant political manipulation was deemed necessary to carry on the state’s “revolutionary” agendas in the 1980s and 1990s did it continue to be one of the defining features of state ideology and propaganda. Elsewhere, the state’s reliance on and manipulation of nationalism tended to be more subtle and implicit.
But the nationalism that states began to subtly propagate as a source of support for their legitimacy was not always the same as popular perceptions of nationalism and national interest. In fact, only in one area did the “official nationalism” of the state and the “unofficial nationalism” of the populace correspond and overlap. Official nationalism is defined in terms of domestic political stability (even if forcibly imposed); statist economic development in conjunction with foreign investors; regional supremacy and a clear articulation of international and strategic interests; and a subtle but carefully calculated promotion of conspiracy theories that blame outside elements for domestic problems or acts of terrorism. This is often done through the state-controlled media, with official sanction, of course, in which everything from economic shortages to acts of sabotage is frequently linked to groups financed by an adversary. Tehran’s revolutionaries, their credentials riding on their rhetoric, have been favorite scapegoats of the Arab media. They are alleged to have financed the terrorism of the Shiʿites in Lebanon, Bahrain, and Saudi Arabia, and Islamic radicals stretching from Turkey to Egypt and Morocco. The Sudanese are alleged to have done the same in Egypt, and Qaddafi’s agents were assumed to be all over the Middle East. For Middle Eastern leaders, domestic shortcomings and problems are seldom a product of failed policies or misguided agendas. They must, invariably, be the work of outsiders.
Unofficial nationalism, whether articulated by the literati or generally perceived by the urban middle classes, differs in three key respects. It sees state leaders not as protectors of the national interest but as impediments to it. In terms of economic development, it deplores what it considers to be the plunder of national resources by international capitalists and their local agents. It also sees the state’s international alliances and strategic calculations—close relations with the United States, implicit or explicit recognition of Israel, perceived abandonment of the Palestinian cause, support for or lack of meaningful opposition to U.S. policies around the region—as wrong and downright immoral. But in one key respect, unofficial nationalism overlaps and agrees with the official version articulated by the state: rightly or wrongly, a sizable portion of the middle classes generally buys into the state’s explanation of the threats posed by foreign (neighborly) conspiracies. While most middle-class Middle Easterners tend to be highly suspicious of government explanations and policies in general, their national identities, proud to the point of defensiveness, make most of them receptive to theories of foreign conspiracies. Accurate public opinion data in this regard are not available. But if the sensationalism caused by frequent revelations of foreign bank accounts and secret shipments of arms and cash is any indication, such theories hold much sway in most Middle Eastern capitals.
Whether the Arab Spring and its ripple effects will close the gap between official and unofficial nationalism remains to be seen. In countries where the 2011 uprisings succeeded in bringing about new political systems, as in Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya, the state’s international profile and its articulation of the national interest are bound to be more reflective, at least initially, of prevailing social sentiments. Whether this will last or will be replaced by old patterns is still uncertain. Elsewhere in the Middle East, where the Arab Spring was crushed before it had a chance to succeed, as in Saudi Arabia and Bahrain, the state’s increased defensiveness and paranoia in relation to social currents have only widened the gap between the two variants of nationalism, with the state framing domestic difficulties as the work of transnational Shiʿite networks sponsored by Iran, while domestic actors see the trouble as originating in the state itself.
The height of the ruling bargain was reached in the populist days of the 1950s and the 1960s, when states promised to ensure social justice, foster economic development, and guarantee national interests in return for the political acquiescence of the citizenry.61 But as these political bargains became discredited, repression increased. In the decades following the 1950s and early 1960s, most Middle Eastern states exhausted their once-extensive popular legitimacy. Their leaders promised victory but lost war after war, talked of liberating Palestinians but abandoned them in short order, promised riches but brought declining living standards for the middle classes and abject poverty for many others, and advocated moral purity while wallowing in worldly pleasures and material possessions. Nevertheless, though often hanging by a thread, most states retained some nationalist legitimacy. The state remained the only viable defender of the nation’s sovereignty, not necessarily against the possibility of wars, which were rather unlikely, but against the constant machinations of more elusive, less obvious foreign adversaries.
A second, more compelling aspect of the ruling bargain is patrimonialism. While traditionally associated with monarchies that cultivate and rule through a series of highly personalized relationships, in the Middle East patrimonialism is equally pervasive in both monarchical and presidential political systems. Most republican poli
tical systems in the region, after all, are in reality presidential monarchies in which the president is routinely reelected in elections that can hardly be considered democratic. The election of President Bashar Assad in Syria by the country’s parliament following the death of his father, President Hafiz Assad, gave the term presidential monarchy new meaning. In Iraq and Egypt, there were rumors that Saddam and Mubarak had designated their sons, Uday and Gamal, respectively, to be their heirs apparent. Seif al-Islam Qaddafi was reportedly also being groomed by his father, Muammar Qaddafi, to take over the reins of power in Libya.
Patrimonial leadership features the pervasiveness of personal ties that directly bind the sovereign to successive layers of subordinates and in turn bind those subordinates to officials beneath them. These personal ties between the leader, who is the ultimate patron, and progressively lesser patrons beneath him are replicated throughout the system. James Bill and Robert Springborg explain the phenomenon best:
In the patrimonial Middle East, the sovereign is located at the center of the political system. He is surrounded by advisors, ministers, military leaders, personal secretaries, and confidants. The one thing that all members of this inner circle share is unquestioned personal loyalty to the leader. This is best indicated by their continual reflection of the will and personality of that leader. These individuals may relate submissively and passively to the leader, but they do not relate in this way to their own peers and followers. Here, they are caught up in intense manipulations and machinations. . . . Although the vertical relationships tend to be one-sided, the horizontal patterns are characterized by balanced rivalry. . . . The traditional politics of patrimonial leadership in the Middle East, therefore, tends to consist of a chain of vertical manipulation and horizontal competition that cuts through the sociopolitical fabric.62
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