Author:
Publication: Al-Ahram Weekly
Date: 29 May - 4 June 200
URL: http://weekly.ahram.org.eg/2003/640/op111.htm
Can we only do it if no one tells
us to? Abdel-Moneim Said* examines the controversy over reform
The Anglo-Saxon war on Iraq has
revealed much, not just about Iraq and its government, but also about the
Arab psyche. The stereotype of the Arabs as a divided people is only partially
true. For whether they are ordinary people chatting in cafés or
pundits opining on the new satellite stations, the Arabs generally agree
about two things: that (a) the United States will not create democracy
in Iraq, and that (b) even if this were to happen, democracy achieved at
the point of a US bayonet is unacceptable.
The result has been to revive an
old controversy, one that Arab countries and their emerging elites had
already grappled with throughout the period of Western colonial rule. After
all, both British and French colonialism emanated from democratic regimes;
both claimed to seek to democratise the Arab world and install more enlightened
forms of governance than those practised by the Ottomans. Yet throughout
the fight against Western colonialism, the Arab elites always found these
claims hard to believe.
This reaction to colonialism was
peculiar to the Arab world. It differed, for instance, from that of the
Indian independence movement. The Indian elite always saw democracy as
a system that was both efficient and capable of safeguarding human rights.
They therefore made democracy central to their policies for a post-colonial
India, despite the fact that this system was being championed by the same
power they were fighting against. Ghandi was aware that the quest for independence
should not be allowed to cause a rift between the people of India and the
achievements of Western civilisation, chief amongst them, liberal ideals
and democracy.
The Arab elite, however, was less
clear on this matter. After a brief flirtation with liberalism, the independence
movement became tainted with fascistic tendencies, whether inspired by
religion or nationalism. The idea of the "just despot" gained currency.
Many argued that if we were to adopt a Western- style democracy, this would
be an admission of our own inferiority, and thus tantamount to recognition
of the merits of the colonialists.
In 1942, a dramatic event sealed
the fate of democratisation in the region. The British ordered King Farouk
of Egypt to let the Wafd Party form a government. The Wafd held a majority
in parliament, and were therefore perfectly entitled to govern the country;
but Egyptian and Arab intellectuals and political leaders felt humiliated
by the spectacle of the Wafd accepting this charge under the protection
of the British. From that moment on, a new brand of activism began to take
shape, as the Iron Guards, the Muslim Brothers, and the Ba'thists, among
others, rode the wave of popular support. A succession of coups d'états
followed, which eventually brought to power a military elite which was
determined to rule on behalf of the people, rather than listen to what
the people had to say.
The question of independence versus
democracy remains unresolved to this day. Some within our ruling elite
still see self- determination as a licence to create fascistic, Saddam-style,
regimes. Some still argue that democracy does not suit our countries, because
we lack certain "traits". An entire body of myth has been created around
the cultural requirements for democracy to thrive, and how only countries
which are blessed with an unusual and innate capacity to uphold justice
and tolerate opposing points of view should be permitted to dabble in the
dark science of participatory politics.
Democratic countries, according
to this myth, resolved all their social and economic problems before working
their way to real existing political freedom. Being unprepared, we Arabs
should not venture into these treacherous waters. If we do, the result
can only be chaos: civil wars will erupt, and our homelands will be torn
apart. It is remarkable how this self-abasing view has become so prevalent,
considering how jealously we guard our particular identities and distinguished
traditions, and how incessantly we extol our capacity for love and tolerance.
As the Cold War ended and globalisation
became a dominant factor in international relations, our dilemma became
more acute. A heated debate emerged in the Arab world about how globalisation
is just another word for "Americanisation". Since America is Israel's main
backer, so the argument went, globalisation must be flawed -- particularly
the part of the package which concerns democracy. This paranoia of reform,
and the alarm with which we greeted the reorganisation of world markets,
reveals our deep-seated suspicion of everything American. Nothing is acceptable
in the Arab world if it comes from the United States -- even if it can
be helpful.
This dilemma was apparent even before
the Anglo-Saxon war on Iraq started, in the way the Arab press reacted
to US Secretary of State Colin Powell's initiative on US-Middle East partnership.
Although based on the conclusions of the Arab Human Development Report,
prepared by our own specialists under the aegis of the UN Development Programme,
many Arabs questioned this initiative's sincerity. Powell's speech to the
Heritage Foundation on 12 December 2002 was sprinkled with quotations from
President Mubarak and Queen Rania, and even included lines of poetry by
Hafiz Ibrahim. Yet the media reacted as if he had committed some sort of
insolent invasion of Arab privacy.
As for its content, Powell's initiative
invoked common historic and religious roots with the Middle East, as well
as existing strategic bonds; yet it was received with disapproval, even
by the Arab opposition. All of a sudden, the entire Arab world seemed to
be violently opposed to reform and change -- simply because the United
States was urging it on us. Arab reformists, who had for years made the
same demands, were embarrassed to see the Americans hijacking their language.
Why then are the Arabs always so
happy to accept US money, military aid, and even security protection, and
yet see any political proposals emerging from Washington as pure and unadulterated
evil? Why do bilaterally acceptable matters turn into multilateral taboos,
as they did so regularly during the Arab meetings both before and after
the war on Iraq? The answer to this question is not as simple as it might
at first appear.
Arab countries are clearly jealous
of their independence and sovereignty. In the aftermath of 11 September,
religious and ethnic sensitivities have become particularly acute. References
to the clash of civilisations spread like wild fire; no country in the
region was in any mood to let another intervene in its educational system.
The US initiative, as presented at that particular time, seemed like an
attempt to dictate rather than enlighten. Moreover, its main premise was
that something was wrong with Arab societies; that is, that the Arabs were
to blame for both the suicidal tendencies among their youth and for the
11 September terror attacks. This charge was rejected out of hand by the
Arab states. Most of them pointed out that the terrorist group that committed
that particular atrocity was operating outside Arab countries and that
many of its members had been educated and trained in the West. To these
factors, we must also add that the Arabs simply did not wish to take advice
from a country that has been, and remains, so staunchly pro-Israeli.
This complex of factors needs to
be placed in a historical perspective. Throughout history, dominant civilisations
have always sought to impose their way of life on others. When the Pharaonic
culture was at its apogee, its mark was felt in Greece and throughout the
Levant. Hellenic culture, in turn, influenced Egyptian culture, religion,
and art. With the death of Cleopatra, the last Ptolemaic monarch, Roman
culture and law rose to dominance throughout the old world. And once the
Roman Empire had adopted Christianity, it made every effort to ensure it
spread to the countries under its rule. The Arabs and Muslims behaved in
exactly the same way, when their turn came. Indeed, the religious, cultural,
and linguistic changes introduced by Arab and Muslim armies in the areas
they conquered would be quite unthinkable by modern standards of political
conduct.
When Britain was the world's uncontested
superpower, it tried to impose its own conception of civilisation on the
nations in its charge. The contemporary preponderance of such concepts
as constitutions, parliaments, and political parties was the result of
this small island's quest to remake the world after its own image.
When the world split into two blocs
after World War II, the political, social, and cultural structures of the
countries affiliated with each bloc mirrored those of their respective
superpowers. The United States propagated "free world" values, just as
the Soviet Union did socialist ones. Once the Cold War ended and the United
States emerged as the world's unchallenged leader, Washington wasted no
time in urging others to embrace its pet concepts of freedom, privatisation,
human rights, and globalisation.
What makes the current dilemma particularly
acute is the imbalance of power between the United States and the Arab
world. If the Arab countries had no need of America and its assistance,
Washington's pressure to see them adopt US values would be of little moment.
Yet it is precisely in order to redress this imbalance that the Arabs should
be seeking to bring about political, economic, and social reforms within
their countries.
This is why it is absolutely crucial
to make a distinction between our genuine need for reform and the pressure
which others (in this case, the Americans) put us under to move in the
same direction. Yet for the past two centuries, Arab reformers have regularly
and unhelpfully confused exactly these two things.
Arab societies have to resolve to
act. We need reform, and we need to redress the imbalance of power between
ourselves and the West. Perhaps the best thing would be if we were to engage
in reforms as if the whole business had nothing to do with the United States;
after all, this is a genuine need on our part, not just an exercise in
suggestion. And perhaps we should pursue our ties with the United States
as if the latter had never made a single proposal concerning reform; for
indeed, reform is a purely Arab task. Once this disassociation has been
achieved, we would then be free to focus on what really matters -- on getting
our act together and catching up with the rest of the world.
(The writer is director of the Al-Ahram
Centre for Political and Strategic Studies.)
