Educate yourself: <<The U.S. presence undermines the government's legitimacy as well; "Ever since the Gulf War of 1991," complains Prince Nayef, minister of the interior and brother of King Fahd, "we are perceived in the Arab world as a pawn of the United States.">>
Trouble in the Kingdom
Foreign Affairs; New York; Jul/Aug 2002; Eric Rouleau;
Volume: 81
Issue: 4
Start Page: 75-89
ISSN: 00157120
AT SEA IN THE DESERT
Crown Prince Abdullah cut an impressive figure when he arrived in Crawford, Texas, in late April to meet with President George W. Bush. The man who has ruled Saudi Arabia ever since his half brother, King Fahd, suffered a stroke in 1995, Abdullah managed to present himself as both firm and conciliatory, establishing a productive dialogue with the American president and improving a relationship that had been badly frayed by September 11 and the ongoing crisis in the Middle East. While pressuring Bush to take a more active role in the Arab-Israeli peace process, Abdullah also mollified the Americans by promising to keep Saudi oil flowing and by promoting his own groundbreaking solution to the conflict in the Middle East.
Abdullah's performance abroad, however, obscured the fact that the prince's power at home -- and indeed, the health of his nation -- has eroded significantly. A major crisis is now brewing in Saudi Arabia, and September's terrorist attacks -- committed by 19 hijackers, 15 of whom were Saudi citizens -- both highlighted and, in a way, aggravated the tensions in the kingdom. The intense violence in the Middle East has made matters even worse. The deterioration of the Arab-Israeli situation has started to threaten the very stability of the Saudi state in a way many Westerners, particularly Americans, had not anticipated. In particular, outsiders have underestimated the anger roused in the Saudi population by the suffering of the Palestinian people -- and the fact that this suffering is blamed less on Israel than on its American protector. Given the privileged nature of relations between Washington and Riyadh, this anger has also started to focus on the House of Saud itself.
Although Westerners may not have anticipated the current crisis, it came as no surprise to Abdullah. A month before September 11, the crown prince had already warned Bush about the rising danger, asking him to intervene in the Middle East to help bring about a "balanced" settlement of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. According to his close aides, however, Abdullah's early oral and written messages to Bush were treated with skepticism in Washington, leading the prince, in an unprecedented gesture, to refuse an invitation to visit the White House.
It was his despair at Washington's refusal to get involved that led the crown prince to launch a bold peace initiative of his own in February, promising full normalization of relations between Israel and the entire Arab world in exchange for the implementation of the UN's resolutions on Palestine. The peace deal -- extended directly "to the government and the people of Israel" -- was clearer and more precise than any that had been formulated since the creation of the Jewish state. Coming at a time when most Arabs were outraged by the Israeli army's conduct in the occupied territories, Abdullah's offer was a risky move, capable of triggering violent protests at home and likely to be rejected by Israel. Yet Abdullah backed the proposal enthusiastically, even managing to twist the arms of several reluctant Arab governments to ensure its unanimous acceptance at the March 2002 Arab League summit.
Abdullah's moves represented more than just an attempt to defuse the time bomb of popular anger threatening all current Arab regimes. He also hoped to save his own government's privileged relationship with the United States -- an alliance that has been critical to Saudi Arabia's security and one to which Abdullah therefore attaches great importance. But not many Saudis seem to agree with the prince's priorities. Since his peace initiative was first announced, the Saudi security forces have had to put down anti-American and anti-Israeli demonstrations in at least three cities -- Riyadh, Al Jauf, and Dhahran -- and liberal Saudi intellectuals have circulated a petition calling for the rupture of diplomatic ties with the United States and (following Iraq's example) an oil embargo. Even before these incidents, a number of Western diplomats had already concluded that Saudi Arabia was fast becoming one of the most anti-American countries in the Gulf. Unless the United States succeeds in restarting serious and credible Israeli-Palestinian (and Israeli-Syrian) negotiations, Abdullah may not be able to contain the groundswell of opposition rising up in his country. This opposition poses intense risks for both countries; indeed, if not controlled it could tear apart a strategic alliance that has lasted since World War II.
BEYOND BELIEF
The one issue that angers the Saudis the most is Israel's treatment of the Palestinians, whom Saudis view as engaged in a legitimate independence struggle against a brutal -- and American-backed -- colonial oppressor. Another strong grievance, however, is the presence of American bases on Arabian soil. Despite official denials, the U.S. troops, who have been in Saudi Arabia ever since the Persian Gulf War, are highly unpopular. In keeping with strict government orders, the issue is not raised in the media or in public. In private, however, many Saudis complain that they consider it a form of occupation -- at best humiliating, since the regime should not have to rely on foreign protection, and at worst intolerable, since the U.S. bases may eventually become a staging ground for military operations against fellow Muslim countries such as Iraq. The U.S. presence undermines the government's legitimacy as well; "Ever since the Gulf War of 1991," complains Prince Nayef, minister of the interior and brother of King Fahd, "we are perceived in the Arab world as a pawn of the United States."
More generally, however, Saudis also object to the entire thrust and tenor of Washington's foreign policy, which they see as arbitrary, unjust, and dismissive or contemptuous of Arab interests. Critics fault the United States for its unilateralism. "The arrogance of the United States is unacceptable," declared one young prince, speaking on condition of anonymity. "President Bush says that anyone who does not fully support the U.S. war plans is with the terrorists," he remarked. "In other words, we are being asked to board a train without being told where it is going, what route it will follow, or how long the journey will take. And we're told not to ask questions, which are considered inappropriate."
Not only do Saudis resent being told what to do, they were also profoundly shocked by the widespread skepticism displayed in the U.S. media about the kingdom's determination to fight terrorism after September's attacks. After all, as Prince Nayef has indignantly argued, al Qaeda is even more dangerous to Saudi Arabia than it is to the United States. America will never suffer anything more than physical attacks, he points out, which, however devastating and costly they may be, will not undermine the state itself. "For us, on the other hand, the threat is also -- and especially -- ideological and political, since [Osama] bin Laden accuses the royal family of betraying Islam and of being an accomplice of the United States." To prove his good faith, Prince Nayef then listed the antiterrorist measures his country adopted well before September 11, which included the establishment of tight coordination with Western and Arab intelligence agencies, the arrests of scores of extremists, and the execution of those found guilty of anti-American attacks on Saudi soil.
Yet bin Laden remains widely popular in Saudi Arabia today -- not for his crimes, but because of the population's reflexive anti-Americanism. Contrary to widespread opinion in the West, the Saudis -- like the citizens of the other Gulf countries -- do not attribute to bin Laden any Islamic legitimacy or authority. But even though his actions may be seen as contrary to the precepts of Islam, al Qaeda's founder is considered a hero for having challenged the United States by striking two key symbols of its power: the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. It is nationalism, not Islam, that remains the dominant ideology in Arabia today, and this explains bin Laden's ongoing appeal.
Most Saudis actually believe that Islamic radicalism, such as that which bin Laden espouses, is foreign to both their religion and their traditions. One of the rare intellectuals who openly acknowledges the kingdom's responsibility for the spread of political extremism is Askar Enazy, a professor of international relations with university degrees from the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, and Russia. He reproaches the Saudi leaders -- as well as the American government -- for having unintentionally allowed this "cancer" to spread.
Threatened by the Arab nationalism that led to the overthrow of governments elsewhere in the region in the 1950s and 1960s, Saudi Arabia granted political asylum to thousands of members of the Muslim Brotherhood who were fleeing repression in Egypt, Syria, and Iraq. These men brought with them a doctrine of political Islam formulated by the movement's founder, Hassan al Banna, and developed by the theoretician of jihad, Sayed Qutb, who was executed in 1966 by Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser. And they soon came to exert vast influence in Saudi Arabia. Employed as imams in mosques, as instructors and professors in schools and universities, and as senior officials in the ministry of education, members of the Muslim Brotherhood designed school textbooks and syllabuses and published works interpreting the Koran along the strict guidelines of their beliefs. In the process, they won numerous local disciples, including many within the Saudi clergy.
Until the arrival of the Muslim Brotherhood, Wahhabi Islam, the official state religion in Saudi Arabia, had been essentially apolitical, concerning itself mainly with puritanism in morals, the observance of proper dress, and correct religious practices per se. Under the impact of the new arrivals, however, part of the Saudi clergy progressively became politicized -- and began, for the first time, to challenge the House of Saud's temporal power.
The royal family, however, did not initially grasp this slow metamorphosis or the potential threat political Islam entailed. In fact, the government seemed to think it could control the movement. Riyadh thus launched an Islamization campaign throughout the Arab Islamic world in the early 1970s. Taking advantage of the windfall provided by the first oil boom, the Saudis funneled substantial revenues into financing Islamic movements abroad, building thousands of mosques, religious schools, and cultural centers, and sending contingents of imams and other missionaries to spread the good word. The goal was to fight atheism, communism, and secular pan-Arabism while at the same time extending Saudi influence in "brotherly countries." These objectives also happened to coincide perfectly with U.S. concerns during the Cold War; as a result, the Islamists were generally considered the natural allies of the West until the early 1990s.
The United States, in fact, joined forces with Saudi Arabia and Pakistan to recruit, arm, finance, and train tens of thousands of mujahideen for the "Islamist International" that was assembled to help drive the Soviets from Afghanistan. One of these fighters, of course, just happened to be bin Laden, who was supported and encouraged at first by Saudi intelligence in cooperation with the CIA. The mutation of a freedom-fighter into a dangerous dissident began only with his return home after the Soviet defeat. Bin Laden was shocked by Riyadh's refusal in 1990 to let him organize new brigades of the mujahideen to drive the Iraqis out of Kuwait and to overthrow Saddam Hussein's secular regime; he became even more indignant when his government participated in Operation Desert Storm and subsequently leased military bases on Arabian soil -- holy land -- to the United States. This outrage finally brimmed over in 1991, when bin Laden turned his jihad against the United States and its allies.
Even then Saudi Arabia and the United States did not recognize the threat that political Islam posed; bin Laden's onslaught was seen as an isolated case. Washington and Riyadh continued to find the contribution of the "Arab Afghans" -- the mujahideen who had cut their teeth fighting the Soviets in Afghanistan -- useful in the struggle against Slavic hegemony elsewhere: in Bosnia, Kosovo, Chechnya, and Macedonia, as well as in the fight against the Marxist regime of South Yemen. Even the Taliban were considered potential allies at first. Their religious practices, inspired by Saudi Wahhabis, appeared innocently apolitical: the Afghan mullahs had been indoctrinated in religious schools set up in Pakistan using Saudi money and instructors, and the Taliban troops were trained, armed, and led by the Pakistani army and intelligence services. This degree of outside support, it was thought, would make them controllable. The Taliban, moreover, were seen as the enemy of the enemy of the West; after all, their opponents, the Northern Alliance, were supported by Iran and Russia.
"We recognized the Taliban regime only after America gave the green light," recounts one Saudi cabinet minister. "We shared the conviction that [Taliban leader Mullah Muhammad] Omar's followers were the only ones capable of restoring unity and civil peace in Afghanistan, which in fact turned out to be the case during the first two years of their rule." Washington did not ask Riyadh and Islamabad to break off relations with Kabul until after September 11.
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