------------------------------------------
The Decline of the Arabs
by Asher Susser
Middle East Quarterly
Fall 2003
http://www.meforum.org/article/564
The Arabs ? are in a double state of decay that
boggles the minds even of those who expected a hot summer
of post-war decadence ? The [Arab] nation will be split
between those who dance to the beat of scandal and defeat,
and those who blow themselves up in what is turning into a
deafening religious ritual.
?Azmi Bishara[1]
In their half-century of independence, the Arabs have been
defeated time and again by their adversaries. Arab armies
knew humiliation in the Nakba (catastrophe) of 1948 and
the six-day defeat of 1967. They saw victory snatched from
them by Israel in 1973, and they saw the largest standing
Arab army put to flight by the United States in 1991.
Arabs have hungered for military success. This past March,
many of them thought they could smell one.
In the first few days of the war in Iraq, it appeared as
though the Iraqis were admirably holding their own against
obviously superior U.S. and British forces and might
shatter expectations of a rapid Iraqi collapse. Arab
observers lavished praise on the Iraqi forces, which would
finally redeem Arab honor. It did not matter that a
ruthless dictator ruled Iraq. A "steadfast and resisting"
dictatorship was far better than a defeated Iraqi
democracy, as one Arab commentator put it.[2]
But the euphoria did not last long. The Iraqi forces
crumbled, undermined by a lack of resolve and poor
fighting spirit. Thanks to their pompous minister of
information, Muhammad Sa?id as-Sahhaf, they also became
the target of international ridicule. Initial pride turned
into despair and shock as the Arabs, like the rest of the
world, witnessed the spectacle of relieved Iraqis
rejoicing in the overthrow of their leader by a foreign
invasion.
And the Arabs, for all their sense of shame, did nothing
to prevent this outcome. Some Arab states actually
assisted the United States; others did nothing at all.
Even the much-vaunted "Arab street" was dumbstruck. There
were bigger demonstrations against U.S. war plans in
Europe than in the Arab capitals. The Arab media
(al-Jazeera, etc.) alone bore the message of Arab
solidarity, leading one particularly cynical Arab observer
to the wry conclusion that the Arabs were "nothing more
than an acoustic phenomenon (zahira sawtiya)."[3]
This essay might have been titled, "The Decline of the
Arab World." But referring to the Arab world today seems
anachronistic. If the term is intended to suggest that the
Arab states are a functioning political collective, it is
clearly a misnomer. The Arab world, as such, no longer
exists, any more than a Latin American world does. There
are not even blocks or axes of certain Arab states
arraigned against others, as in the past. The Arab
collective has become nothing but a motley assortment of
states, each fending for itself, most in cooperation with
the United States, a few against it. As Arab diplomats
themselves concede, it is doubtful if one can refer to
anything such as a collective Arab order. The twenty-two
Arab states have very little in common other than their
language.[4]
The state of the Arab collective is not a consequence of
the defeat of Saddam. Rather it is the ignominious defeat
of Saddam that is symptomatic of the Arab condition. The
Arabs are in deep crisis, politically, socially, and
economically. Most have missed the boat of globalization;
they are suffering from a leadership vacuum; and they are
in no position to determine the regional agenda. After the
U.S.-led war against Iraq, the Arabs are in even deeper
disarray and sinking further into what Fouad Ajami
described over two decades ago as the "Arab predicament."
The Arabs, for the most part, have no illusions. Arab
intellectuals and commentators are the first to recognize
the Arab predicament, and it is they who project a mood of
profound collective despair. Arab inability to set the
region's course is readily confirmed by Arab writers, who
openly express the fear that Israel and the United States
will now redraw the map of the Middle East. The Arabs, in
their own self-image, are even more vulnerable than they
were in the midst of World War I, when Britain and France
carved up the Middle East in their secret deal of 1916,
known as the Sykes-Picot agreement.
The impotence of the Arab League is but one symptom. After
the war in Iraq, Arab foreign ministers opted not to
convene at all. After all, they had nothing to decide.
Muhammad Sid Ahmad, one of Egypt's leading intellectuals,
lamented the fact that the Arabs were now absent from the
international arena, despite the fact that the Middle East
was one of the key regions on the globe.[5]
The "Arab predicament" has only worsened since Ajami
coined the phrase. The Arabs now stand at an impasse, with
no prospect of exiting it any time soon. How they entered
it is a cumulative litany of wrong choices, beginning with
the hero of Arabism, Gamal Abdel Nasser.
Trial and Errors
The Arabs did not always feel themselves so helpless. In
the heyday of Nasser in the 1950s and 1960s, Egypt's young
and promising charismatic president shared the leadership
of the awakening third world and the non-aligned movement
with Nehru of India and Tito of Yugoslavia. Nasser
appeared on the world stage as an equal with the great
leaders of his time, and he set the regional agenda. He
put paid to the Western effort to create an anti-Soviet
defense pact in the Middle East and precipitated the Suez
debacle, coercing the French and the British into
accepting his nationalization of the Suez Canal.
As a result, Nasser became the unrivaled leader of the
Arab world. For a decade, he spread his messianic vision
of Arab unity, Arab socialism, and alliance with the
Soviet Union as the panacea for the ills of the Arab world
and for the rejuvenation of Arab power. In 1958, he forged
a union with Syria, effectively becoming ruler over that
country. Nasser's appeal was so magnetic that even the
United States seriously considered abandoning its ally
Jordan in the face of his onslaught. Washington, like just
about everyone else, was convinced that Nasser represented
the inevitable wave of the future.
Nasser's position began to come undone in 1961 when the
union with Syria broke apart. He slipped further when
Egypt became embroiled in a costly civil war in Yemen. But
the final blow came in 1967. After six days of warfare
with Israel, Nasserism was in tatters. The great promise
proved to be no more than an illusion. Since then it has
been a steady run downhill for the Arab states.
On the ruins of Nasserism, Islamists offered a supposedly
authentic route to modernity, without secularism. But the
record of the ayatollahs in Iran, the Islamist-inspired
military regime in Sudan, and the Taliban in Afghanistan
has been one of repeated failure. (In Iran, where
Islamists still rule, the younger generation detests the
regime.) The Islamists, an Arab writer observed, offered
no realistic policy alternatives other than a totalitarian
vision of their own.[6] Indeed, radical Islam, instead of
developing into an alternative route to modernity, has
degenerated into a movement of fury and revenge. It has
produced horrific acts of terrorism, but has failed to
alter the balance of power in the Arabs' favor.
In the 1970s, there were those in the Arab world and
elsewhere who believed that the oil weapon would become
the guarantor of Arab resurgence. It did not. Declining
oil prices in the 1980s sent the Arab economies reeling
into crisis from which many have yet to recover. Even the
Saudis are finding it ever more difficult to maintain
their well-greased political system, in which the loyalty
of the middle class was bought with favors bestowed by the
state.
The critical centers of power in the modern Arab East are
spent forces. Cairo, Riyadh, Baghdad, and Damascus are way
past their prime.
Egypt. Egypt, as a poor third world state, is increasingly
aware of the widening gap between its self-image as a
regional leader and its real power to shape the turn of
events in the Middle East. Recognizing that poverty and
power do not go together, the Egyptians are complaining
yet again of the unequal distribution of wealth amongst
the Arabs, on the one hand, and urging Egypt's accelerated
economic reform and privatization on the other. Egypt's
weakness makes it vulnerable to economic competition from
neighbors. Thus, for example, Egypt is concerned that, in
the new post-Saddam era, it will have to compete with
Iraqi exports of natural gas, or that a new regime in Iraq
might be convenient to Israel and thus tip the regional
scales even further against the Egyptians.
Politically, Egypt acquiesces in the U.S. will. This, too,
is a sign of its weakness. In the aftermath of the 1967
defeat, Nasser remained defiant. Under his aegis, the Arab
summit in Khartoum adopted its notorious three "nos,"
refusing to recognize, negotiate, or make peace with
Israel. Shortly thereafter, he launched what became known
as the "War of Attrition" against the Israeli forces along
the Suez Canal. But in this day and age of U.S. hegemony
and Arab lethargy, such a provocative mode of action would
be unthinkable. Instead, the Egyptians cooperate. Most
recently, they were involved in pressuring Arafat to allow
the formation of the Mahmud Abbas (Abu Mazen) government.
They have similarly done their utmost to convince the
Syrians not to provoke the United States. Generally
speaking, the name of Egypt's game is acquiescence with
the powers that be rather than confrontation.
Saudi Arabia. The Saudis are in a state of constant
anxiety, if not panic, paying protection to Islamic
extremists and suffering their attacks all the same.
Riyadh is also worried about oil prices. Strange as that
may sound, it is true, nevertheless, and a sign of the
times: rising prices might aggravate an already tense
relationship with the United States. Since the exposure of
the involvement of Saudi nationals in the attacks of
September 11, 2001, American public anger against Saudi
Arabia is rife. The Saudis would not even think of
launching another oil boycott. Instead they have hired
public relations specialists to plead the Saudi case and
improve their image through television commercials. Saudi
external debt is mounting,[7] and its strategic importance
to the United States has declined, now that Washington
controls the future of Iraqi oil. The same holds true for
Saudi territory for U.S. bases, which are being evacuated.
Iraq. In this overall picture of Arab infirmity, Iraq
could have made a difference. Iraq is an extraordinary
Arab state, not over-populated, potentially wealthy, and
technologically advanced. But Saddam elected to use Iraqi
power in futile confrontations with his neighbors, first
Iran and then Kuwait. By so doing, he aroused almost the
whole world against him. In the 1991 Kuwait war, even the
Arab states sided with Washington. The United States
intervened to restore the existing regional order, the
very order that the Arab states craved.
The more recent Iraqi crisis, however, was very different.
The United States invaded Iraq not to save the existing
order but to overturn it. Generally speaking, the Arabs,
even those who were relieved to see the last of Saddam,
were deeply uncomfortable with the thought of the United
States bowling over Middle Eastern regimes at will and
possibly threatening the territorial integrity of an Arab
state. But Washington had its way, and Iraq has become its
testing ground for its theories about democracy.
Baghdad was once the capital of the magnificent caliphate
empire of the Abbasids and the center of its
Arabic-language culture under such illustrious caliphs as
al-Mansur (754-75), Harun ar-Rashid (786-809) and
al-Ma'mun (813-33). In modern times it was often the
counterweight to Egyptian dominance and an alternative
"throbbing heart" of Arabism. Until recently Baghdad was
home to Saddam's regime, the defiant hope of the radicals.
Now the United States plans to turn Baghdad into a beacon,
but that prospect is distant, and may even be receding. In
the meantime, Iraq is out of play as a force in the Arab
world.
Syria. Damascus is more isolated than ever, completely
surrounded by countries friendly to, allied with, or even
occupied by the United States (Turkey, Israel, Jordan, and
Iraq). This comes at a time when the new U.S. doctrine of
preemptive war has given rise to a pervasive sense of
uncertainty and insecurity in the Arab states in general
and in Syria in particular. On what grounds will the
United States make its assessments of imminent threat or
danger? Who might U.S. forces strike next?
Non-Arab Primacy
Even though Washington's war in Iraq, some Arabs argue,
targeted "the Arabs" as a whole, there was not much they
could do about it. They have very few levers of influence
on the United States. The United States was not compelled
to pay any real price to the Arab states in exchange for
their reluctant acquiescence in the military action
against the Saddam Hussein regime. Present U.S.
initiatives in the Middle East peace process are not a
payoff to the Arabs to whom Washington owes very little.
They are far more of a response to its own domestic
requirements and to the political concerns of its one and
only real European ally, Britain. The United States has
published the Quartet's new roadmap for a Palestinian
solution primarily because President Bush seeks broader
success in the Middle East, thus vindicating his decision
to go to war. But Washington has no apparent desire, or
capability for that matter, to impose the roadmap on the
parties.
European concern for the Arab states and seemingly
pro-Arab European policies are the consequences of Arab
weakness, not Arab power or influence. Some on the left of
the British Labor party have third-world sympathies that
tend to be far more favorable to the Arabs in general, and
to the Palestinians in particular, than to the first-world
Israelis and their occupation. This holds true for other
Europeans, too. But above and beyond the compassion is the
hovering Damocles' sword of Arab emigration to Europe. The
Europeans, as noted in a recent article by George
Papandreou and Chris Patten, seem to be convinced that if
only the Palestinian-Israeli issue were put to rest, "the
full potential of cooperation in the Mediterranean region"
could be achieved. Arab countries would be able to forge
ahead towards economic reform and eventual prosperity.
Such development would, in turn, reduce the demographic
pressure of the Middle East on Europe.[8] The Europeans
are tilting in the Arabs' favor not because of oil power
or the strength of Arab markets but because of the
wretched state of many Arab societies and the impact
emigration from there might have on the ethnic fabric of
Europe in the generations ahead.
Arab decline has enhanced the regional stature of the
non-Arab Middle Eastern states: Israel, Turkey, and Iran.
Israel, because of its military power, economic viability,
and technological prowess, is the only Middle Eastern
state in the globalized league of Western affluent
democracies. Turkey, a former imperial power, has an
enormous land mass and is a populous, militarily powerful,
geopolitically vital, Westernizing state, with
considerable economic potential. Iran, somewhat less
Westernized, has many of Turkey's geopolitical attributes
as a regional power in addition to oil wealth and a
certain influence among Arab Shi?ites who are bidding for
power in their countries.
The routing of Saddam's regime in Iraq has crushed the
traditional Sunni center of power for the first time in
the country's history, elevating the Shi?ites, the
majority in Iraq, to a position of unprecedented
prominence. This does not mean Iranian control of Iraq or
even a desire by the Iraqi Shi?ites to be governed by
Iran. But it does give the Iranians a say in Iraq the
likes of which they have not had before. In the Persian
Gulf, Iran is the only regional power of consequence. Iraq
is out for the count, and the Saudis are a broken reed.
Iran's influence in Lebanon has also increased, through a
more assertive and self-assured Hizbullah, ever since
Syria's grip on Lebanon began to loosen under the
uncertain, untrained, and indecisive hand of Bashar
al-Assad. Iran's new stature was given symbolic
recognition in mid-May 2003 when President Muhammad
Khatami made the first visit to Lebanon by an Iranian
president since the 1979 Islamic revolution.
Some Arabs are talking of modernizing the Arab League
while President Bush is pushing a plan calling for a
Middle Eastern free trade zone. Nothing may come of these
notions, but both envisage the inclusion of Iran and
Turkey in new regional associations. It is worthy of note
that after the war in Iraq, in late April 2003, it was not
the Arab League that convened but a forum of Iraq's
neighbors, including Turkey and Iran, to discuss the new
situation. Along with Turkey and Iran were Iraq's Arab
neighbors (including Egypt, in a gesture of respect), but
these are all clear indications of the rising fortunes of
the non-Arabs as regional players at the expense of the
receding Arab collective.
The Self-Centered Arab State
In the annals of the modern Arab state, June 1967 is a
crucial watershed. The humiliating defeat that Israel
dealt the Arabs was more than just a military setback. The
outcome of the war signified the bankruptcy of the world
of ideas that Nasser represented at the core of which was
his messianic message of pan-Arabism. The erosion of
pan-Arabism enhanced the legitimacy of the individual Arab
territorial states and the acceptance of the regional
state order. Arab politics became more pragmatic and less
ideological as the Arab states and their ruling elites all
sought to secure their state interests in the naked and
unapologetic pursuit of their raison d'état.
So devoted was Nasser to the cause of Arabism that during
his reign even Egypt's name was sacrificed: Egypt became
one half of the United Arab Republic (UAR), which united
Syria and Egypt, and Egypt remained the UAR even after
Syria's secession in 1961. Only after Nasser's death in
1970 did his successor, Anwar Sadat, restore Egyptian
primacy by renaming the country the Arab Republic of Egypt
(in Arabic, Jumhuriyat Misr al-?Arabiya?note Misr first
and Arab second). This was not a semantic exercise but the
fundamental reorientation of Egypt's foreign policy to an
"Egypt first" mindset, at the expense of Egypt's
commitment to the overall Arab cause. It was this shift
that paved the way first to a limited war against Israel
and then to peace, all in the name of the Egyptian state
interest?not ideology, whether pan-Arab, socialist, or
otherwise.
Just as "Egypt first" became an acceptable political
orientation, so could the Palestinians follow suit in the
unabashed promotion of Palestinianness. They embarked on
the pursuit of a separate peace and then launched their
own war against Israel without consulting their Arab
brethren. Their brethren, in turn, left the Palestinians
to stew in their own juice without so much as batting an
eyelash. In this new atmosphere of particularism, the
Jordanians can espouse a "Jordan first" (al-Urdunn
awwalan) policy and wage a domestic public relations
campaign under this slogan with no need to explain and
apologize. Such behavior would have been unimaginable in
the Zeitgeist of the 1950s or early 1960s. It would have
been automatically denounced by the guardians of
pan-Arabism as "separatist" (infisali), "regionalist"
(iqlimi), or downright treason, and an abandonment of the
Arab cause.
But even the territorial state may be in some difficulty
as primordial allegiances eat at its fabric. Iraq under
the Baath is a case in point. Since 1968, Baathist Iraq
followed the regionalist trend just like all the other
Arab states. Despite the ruling party's professed pan-Arab
ideology, Iraqi nationalism predominated at home with a
dash of populist Islam thrown in for good measure. Arabism
had failed to unite Sunnis, Shi?ites (who always suspected
Arabism as a guise for Sunni dominance), and Kurds (who
are not Arabs), all lumped together by British colonial
fiat into what Elie Kedourie called the Iraqi
"make-believe kingdom."[9] The regime, in inventing an
imaginary Iraqi identity, sought to revive the ancient
heritage (turath) of pre-Islamic Mesopotamia (Babylon) and
instructed Saddam's servile intellectuals to produce
folklore, theatre, art, and literature accordingly. The
regime set an example. It established a new mouthpiece,
the daily Babil (Babylon), symbolically akin to the
Egyptian Al-Ahram (the pyramids), evoking the country's
pre-Islamic past. This was meant to offset the regime's
republican, revolutionary, pan-Arab credentials as
represented by titles of older newspapers like Ath-Thawra
(the revolution) and Al-Jumhuriyya (the republic).
This Iraqi identity, however, was very artificial,
especially as compared to Egyptianism. Egyptianism
preceded Arabism by a few decades. In Egypt, the so-called
Pharaonic trend of Egyptian identity was prominent
immediately after independence in the 1920s and actively
promoted by the country's most impressive liberal
Westernizing elite. Egyptian identity was not imposed from
above as a manipulative afterthought by a ruthless
dictator after decades of failed Arabism as was the case
in Iraq. Moreover, Egypt is a homogenous society with a
strong sense of continuity since time immemorial as the
people of the Nile Valley and is not the heterogeneous
hodgepodge of Iraq. Even so, the Pharaonic trend did not
last and was soon to succumb to Arabism, superseded after
the 1967 debacle by the Egypto-Islamic mix of the present.
The triangular power structure of the Iraqi state?composed
of the party, the army, and the domestic intelligence
services?collapsed like a house of cards under the
U.S.-led onslaught. The rapid disintegration of the regime
revealed the enormous discrepancy between the power of the
modern Arab authoritarian state to pulverize its own civil
society and its concurrent incapacity to defend itself
against severe external pressure. The Iraqi state, faced
with American power, broke like glass under a hammer. Yet
despite the searing hatred among most Iraqis of the Baath
reign of terror, there is no remnant of civil society on
which to begin the building of an acceptable substitute to
the ancien régime. As an Arab commentator noted, since
independence, the Arabs have failed to build viable
nation-states. Instead they established police states that
exploited every resource to protect their regimes from the
peoples they governed. In this they succeeded, but they
remain incapable of defending themselves against external
threats.[10]
Indeed, nation-states?whose claims on the identity of
their inhabitants trump all other identities?have yet to
take root in the Arab Middle East. But as already noted,
there is an elite interest in the preservation of the
regional state system and in the promotion of a loyalty to
the territorial state. Moreover, certain other groups have
similarly acquired an interest in the existing state
order. Thus, the Shi?ites in Iraq, and their brethren in
Lebanon, have a vested interest in the preservation of
their respective states, rather than seeing them subsumed
in an Arab or Sunni Islamic union. Even an Iranian Shi?ite
take-over of Iraq, for that matter, would most probably be
seen as very disadvantageous to Iraqi Shi?ite sectarian
interests. The same kind of interests could be associated
with the Druze and the Alawis of Syria. Still, despite the
commitment to and political self-interest in the
territorial state, it has not become the focus of
emotional identity. It has not evolved into the civic
religion that supersedes other loyalties?whether
sub-national, supra-national, primordial, religious,
sectarian, ethnic, or tribal.
The looting in Iraq is a revealing case in point. The
National Museum and other public secular institutions of
the fallen regime were looted and vandalized. The
destruction did not simply reflect a profound desire for
revenge and booty. It showed an extremely low level of
popular veneration for Iraq's Mesopotamian or Babylonian
past, precisely that which the Baath regime had tried so
energetically to force-feed the Iraqi people. Simon
Jenkins, writing in The Times of London, reported on the
wanton destruction, such as the decapitation of the famous
statues of twenty-six Assyrian kings. This was in stark
contradiction, Jenkins continued, even to the Bolsheviks,
who protected the Hermitage during the Russian revolution.
After all, robbing the museum?the custodian of the
identity of a people?was akin to the seizure of the crown
jewels of collective memory. Iraqi looters were plundering
the raw material of their own history, of the Mesopotamian
culture that deepened their historical perspective. [11]
But this is where Jenkins got it wrong. For the great
majority of Iraqis, the contents of the National Museum
are not the crown jewels of their collective memory. For
the Sunnis, it would be the memories of the glorious
Abbasid caliphate and for the Shi?ites, their holy shrines
of Najaf (the tomb of Ali), Karbala (the tomb of Hussein),
and Kazimayn (the tombs of the seventh imam, Musa
al-Kazim, and the eleventh, al-Hasan al-?Askari). These
are the historical cradles of their suffering and their
faith?not the kings of Assyria or the artifacts of
Babylon. The massive outpouring of Shi?ite faith in
Karbala?disallowed under Saddam?immediately after the U.S.
occupation of Iraq, on the occasion of the commemoration
of the fortieth day of the anniversary of the death of
Imam Hussein, was as good an indication as any of the real
cultural components of Iraqi collective memory.
Religious, ethnic, and tribal heritages are the crown
jewels of collective memory, and these were left
untouched. No one probably even considered the idea of
looting the mosques at the holy shrines or anywhere else
for that matter. One can easily imagine the punishment
that would have been meted out to any such prospective
looter by the clerics and their flock. (And when Iraqis
did return some of the looted treasures of the National
Museum, it was in response to appeals from their religious
leaders.) After the disintegration of the regime, the
primordial identities have clearly emerged supreme as
religion and tribe prove to be more natural collective
sanctuaries than territorial nationalism.
Not all Arab states are the same in this respect, and one
should be cautious about sweeping generalizations. Thus,
Egyptian identity is certainly more solid than Iraqi
identity. But Jordan and the Palestinians are more
problematic. Much is said of the Jordanian-Palestinian
cleavage in Jordan. But perhaps this dichotomy has been
overstated, considering that Jordanians have more in
common with Palestinians culturally and historically than
current tensions may reveal. After all, the great majority
of them are Sunni Muslims, and the minority who are not
are, for the most part, Orthodox Christians. For Muslims
and Christians alike, Arabic is their mother tongue.
Jordanians and Palestinians mix socially and marry each
other all the time?Muslims with Muslims and Christians
with Christians. The religious fault line is crossed far
less frequently than the secular, national
Jordanian-Palestinian one. Territorial nationalism,
Jordanian and Palestinian, is sincere and very real but is
still a skin-deep modern-day veneer in comparison with the
historical depth of religious, ethnic, and tribal
identities that have their roots in the seventh century
and in some cases even well before then.
The aftermath of the Iraq war, then, represents another
instance of the self-centered Arab state acting in its own
interests. But Iraq's situation has also shown the
fragility of loyalties to the state, and the persistence
of corrosive primordial allegiances. These loyalties are
yet another source of dissent and weakness.
The Palestinians
As for the Palestinian question, like so many other
regional matters, it should be seen through the lens of
historical evolution from 1967 until the present?that is,
from the zenith of Palestinian national revival through
the fida'i (armed resistance) movement of the late 1960s
to the trough of today. For the Palestinians?defeated,
devastated economically, and with no Arab hinterland to
back them?it is almost the Nakba revisited.
If 1967 was one critical turning point, the war in Lebanon
in 1982 was another. The Palestine Liberation Organization
(PLO), which had been expelled from Jordan in 1971, lost
its last autonomous base of operations in Lebanon in 1982.
This was a severe setback, forcing the PLO onto a course
of gradual decline. The center of gravity of Palestinian
politics shifted from the Palestinian diaspora into the
West Bank and Gaza, which began to emerge as the effective
core of Palestinian political action. This process came to
fruition in the intifada that erupted in 1987 when the
people of the West Bank and Gaza led the Palestinian
struggle against Israel for the first time. The PLO
watched from the sidelines, fearing for its hitherto
unchallenged primacy in Palestinian affairs, yet reaping
the international political rewards from the struggle of
their brethren against the Israelis. But in the early
1990s, the intifada was running out of steam and other
simultaneous developments in the international and
regional arenas placed the PLO under extreme pressure.
The Cold War came to an end with the disintegration of the
Soviet Union; massive Jewish emigration from the former
Soviet Union threatened to tip the demographic scales in
the West Bank and Gaza in Israel's favor; and the United
States defeated Iraq in the 1991 Kuwait war. With the
initiation of the Madrid process in October 1991, the PLO
deeply feared marginalization as the Palestinian question
was negotiated in the corridors of international diplomacy
in an era of Palestinian and Arab weakness. Yasir Arafat,
under the impression that time was working against him and
in desperate need of an entrance ticket into the center of
gravity of Palestinian politics in the West Bank and Gaza,
decided to accept the Oslo accords in 1993. But by the end
of the 1990s, the wheels of fortune had seemingly turned
again, and Arafat's perceptions of time altered
accordingly.
Arafat was now in control of the Palestinian core. Soviet
immigration to Israel hardly affected the demographic
balance between Jews and Arabs in the West Bank and Gaza
where almost all Soviet Jews chose not to settle.
Moreover, Soviet immigration hardly affected the overall
balance between Jews and Arabs in the entire area between
the Mediterranean and the Jordan River, other than
postponing the eventual Palestinian majority there by only
a few years. By the late 1990s, Iraq appeared to be on the
verge of regaining acceptance not only into the community
of Arab states but by ever-growing segments of the
international community. Saddam defied the United States
with apparent impunity and emboldened the radicals across
the board. In the summer of 2000, Israel withdrew
unilaterally from Lebanon, giving the impression that
affluent Israel was tiring. Arafat lost his sense of
urgency for a deal with Israel and acquiesced in the use
of force to coerce Israel to accept conditions more
favorable to the Palestinians, particularly on matters
relating to Jerusalem and refugees.
The use of force was a catastrophic mistake, the worst the
Palestinians have made since 1948. With the Arabs in
disarray, Israel effectively crushed the Palestinian armed
intifada. There can be little doubt in the minds of many
Palestinians and most Israelis that the Palestinian effort
to coerce Israel to accept the unacceptable has come to a
dead end. Israeli society has proved to be more resilient
than the Palestinians?and many Israelis, too?would have
thought. The Palestinian effort to break the Israeli
spirit through terror has failed. The Arabs have let the
Palestinians down again. If the Palestinians believed
momentarily that their war with Israel would draw the
Arabs into the fray, they were mistaken. Even financial
aid was but a pittance. Lastly, the Palestinians
desperately sought to draw the international community in
on their behalf. This did not materialize either. Arafat's
terrorist war has discredited him in the eyes of the
international community. And though it is true that the
vision of President Bush and the Quartet includes an
independent Palestinian state, what the Palestinians
wanted was not to be included in the international
community's vision but for their own vision to be imposed
on Israel. That is hardly likely. In sum, then, not one of
the major Palestinian war aims has been fully attained.
That is the definition of failure.
Arafat, by leading the Palestinians in the present war,
lost any residue of credibility he may still have had with
the Israelis. His position is reminiscent of the
predicament of the first leader of the Palestinian
national movement, Hajj Amin al-Husseini, the mufti of
Jerusalem. Husseini's collaboration with the Nazis in
World War II cost him his international legitimacy. He
then made matters infinitely worse by leading his people
headlong into their 1948 disaster. Arafat has done pretty
much the same. The Palestinian war against Israel has
resulted in massive Israeli retaliation that has crippled
the Palestinian Authority (PA), disrupted the Palestinian
population's daily life, and devastated their economy.
Moreover, the war has also led to the constant rise in the
popularity of Hamas at the expense of Fatah. And the
Palestinian modus operandi of suicide bombings has earned
their struggle unprecedented international opprobrium.
Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have
condemned the bombings as crimes against humanity. These
organizations regularly condemn Israel, but their
condemnation of Palestinian actions is a novelty.
The appointment of Abu Mazen (Mahmud Abbas) as the PA's
"prime minister" has been heralded as a major step toward
Palestinian political reform and the long-awaited
diminution of Arafat's political supremacy. The pressure
on Arafat to stand aside came not only from Israel, the
United States, and other members of the Quartet, but from
within the young guard of his own Fatah movement. For
quite some time there had been rumblings of disaffection
with Arafat's handling of affairs and his virtual loss of
control. The Israelis, the Americans, and the Quartet
members probably would have preferred a change of the
guard in generational terms. After all, one of the most
serious disadvantages of dealing with Arafat is the
symbolic and substantive significance of his belonging, in
the deepest historical and emotional sense, to the 1948
refugee generation. Arafat is driven by the obsession of
rectifying what Palestinians of all persuasions see as the
historical injustice of 1948, above and beyond independent
statehood.
Israelis would prefer to see "insiders," i.e., people from
the West Bank and Gaza, in the saddle, rather than the
arch-representatives of the "outsider" refugee
constituency. Israel has no real solution for the
Palestinian refugee diaspora that would satisfy
Palestinian national aspirations. Israel could, however,
accept a Palestinian state in the West Bank and Gaza and
would therefore much prefer to negotiate with credible
representatives of this insider constituency.
But Abu Mazen is neither an insider nor a member of the
young guard. He is Arafat's veteran deputy and, in his
late sixties, is one of the PLO's old guard. Abu Mazen,
born in Safad in the mid-1930s, is (like Arafat) a
representative of the diaspora refugee constituency. Abu
Mazen is one of the founding members of Fatah, who has
also served for many years on the PLO executive committee.
Moreover, the procedure of approval of the prime minister,
first by the PLO central council and only subsequently by
the legislative council of the PA, is highly significant.
This deliberately calculated procedure is also of symbolic
and substantive importance. It maintains the PLO as the
sole legitimate representative of all Palestinians
wherever they may be and as the supreme source of
political authority of the Palestinian people, insiders
and outsiders alike. In contrast, the PA's legislative
council speaks only for the West Bank and Gaza. This is a
way of saying that not only the West Bank and Gaza are on
the table but the entire cause of historical Palestine.
On the other hand, Abu Mazen's rise to prominence
represents positive change, too. He was one of the few PLO
officials who were involved in the secret talks that led
to the Oslo accords, and despite his origins, he appears
to be a firm believer in the need for a settlement with
Israel. Perhaps most importantly in terms of the more
recent past, Abu Mazen went on record to an audience of
his own people in Gaza in November 2002, with a courageous
and scathing critique of the Palestinians' political
conduct in the two years of the latest "militarized"
intifada. "What have we achieved?" he asked. The
Palestinians were well on their way to statehood, and now
after two years, they were left with "the total
destruction" of all they had built. Instead of drawing
Israeli prime minister Ariel Sharon to the negotiating
table where the Palestinians might have cornered him, they
resorted to the use of armed force where the Israelis had
the upper hand, not only over the Palestinians but also
over the Arabs as a whole. The Palestinian Authority was
in desperate need of reform and a "redirection of [its]
path," he concluded.[12]
These were the words of a sober realist, the likes of whom
the Palestinians desperately need to extricate themselves
from their sorry predicament. And while Abu Mazen does not
have an independent power base, he has the firm support of
key figures in the Fatah new guard who have had their own
differences with Arafat. With allies like these, Abu Mazen
could also serve as the bridge between the new and the old
guards and between insiders and outsiders.
But Arafat was coerced into this move by a combination of
domestic and foreign forces, and he is fighting tooth and
nail to preserve his own flagging authority. Arafat is a
tenacious, experienced, and crafty political operator. He
is not likely to succumb to those who wish to hasten his
denouement without seemingly endless maneuvers and
manipulations of mental attrition, deliberately calculated
to exasperate all contenders and external meddlers alike.
Furthermore, he has considerable popular support. There is
widespread opposition to the appointment of a prime
minister, coming as it does in the wake of external
pressure. Hamas is not happy with Abu Mazen's appointment
or with what he has done with it so far, especially his
relatively conciliatory remarks at the Aqaba summit in
early June 2003. After all, he presently stands for
everything they flatly oppose.
So long as Arafat is not incapacitated, it will be very
difficult to sideline the wily old "Mr. Palestine." Abu
Mazen, therefore, has not emerged as a serious leadership
rival to the historical Palestinian leader. His
appointment is not the end of Arafat by any means. Even if
it spells the beginning of the end, it will still be quite
a while before Israel can discuss the end of conflict with
a reliable Palestinian leadership.
In the meantime, however, the Palestinian war has lost its
psychological momentum and the Arab hinterland (Iraq) has
been defeated as well. As in 1948, the Palestinians in
particular and the Arabs in general are staring at
failure. This is why the Palestinians have accepted a
cease-fire of sorts that may stop the war, save face, and
allow them to catch their breath and regroup. The emerging
reality presents an opportunity for a new dynamic of
negotiation. But there is also the danger that, for the
radicals, this is no more than a breather. While the likes
of Abu Mazen are convinced that the Palestinians have
lost, Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and segments of Fatah, too,
are in a state of denial.
Like Usama bin Ladin, they represent the rage and the
desire for revenge of a civilization in retreat. Their
rebellion against the bleak vision of the future cannot
change the world they live in. The ritual of death and
destruction can offer momentary satisfaction of the need
for retribution, but the focus on the compensations of the
next world will do nothing to alter their predicament in
this one.
Asher Susser is director and senior research fellow
of the Moshe Dayan Center for Middle Eastern and African
Studies, Tel Aviv University. This essay is based on a
lecture delivered in May 2003 to analysts at the Israeli
Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
[1] Al-Ahram Weekly (Cairo), May 22-28, 2003.
[2] Sultan al-Khattab, in ar-Ra'y (Amman), Mar. 28, 2003.
[3] Majid Kayyali, in al-Bayan (Dubai), Apr. 10, 2003.
[4] Al-Ahram Weekly, Apr. 24-30; May 15-21, 2003.
[5] Ibid., May 15-21, 2003.
[6] ?Isam Ikrimawi, in al-Quds al-?arabi (London), Apr.
11, 2003.
[7] Eliyahu Kanovsky, "Oil: Who's Really over a Barrel?"
Middle East Quarterly, Spring 2003, pp. 58, 60.
[8] George Papandreou and Chris Patten, "Sharing the
Benefits of EU Enlargement," Kathimerini (Athens), May 26,
2003.
[9] Elie Kedourie, "The Kingdom of Iraq: A Retrospect," in
Elie Kedourie, The Chatham House Version and Other Middle
Eastern Studies, new ed. (Hanover, N.H.: University Press
of New England for Brandeis University Press, 1984), p.
278.
[10] Ikrimawi, in al-Quds al-?arabi, Apr. 11, 2003.
[11] The Times (London), May 2, 2003.
[12] Al-Hayat (London), Nov. 26, 2002.
To unsubscribe from the MEF News list, go to
http://www.meforum.org/unsubscribe.php
To subscribe to the MEF News list, go to
http://www.meforum.org/subscribe.php
To receive alerts of MEF staff media appearances, please
sign up for the MEF Alerts mailing list at:
http://www.meforum.org/subscribe.php
You may freely forward this information, but on condition
that you send the text as an integral whole along with
complete information about its author, date, and source.