The bloody end to the hostage crisis at In Amenas has led to widely competing assessments as to the wisdom of having so swiftly and violently attacked the facilities to rescue foreign hostages being held by elements of Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM). For the French, for example, this was the only viable option however tragic was the loss of lives. For others, like progressive elements within the United States, negotiations should have been pursued more seriously and with a longer time frame. What both perspectives fail to fully appreciate are the broader national, economic, and security imperatives that dictate Algerian political behavior. Indeed, it is impossible to separate the country’s foreign policy orientation from existing Algerian configurations of power particularly the role of its military-industrial complex.

Despite the presence of formal authority structures operating within a constitutionally-defined system of rule involving elections, parties, and other manifestations of “democratic” governance, Algeria remains under the control, as it has since the coup d’état of 1965, of an intricate complex of military, intelligence, and industrial forces that monopolize state power in both its domestic and foreign policy dimensions.

The ability of Algeria’s intelligence service (Département du Renseignement et de la Sécurité  or DRS), headed by its long-serving General Toufic Mediane, to maintain its supremacy over the country’s political economy is intimately related to its unofficial control of Sonatrach, the national oil and gas company, that provides the bulk of Algeria’s national wealth. During the whole decade of the civil war (1992-2002) involving the military’s savage struggle against an Islamic insurgency that left over 200,000 dead, the security services were able to successfully shield the vast oil and gas operations spread across Algeria’s Saharan expanse against “terrorist” attacks with only one or two instances where facilities and personnel suffered losses. This was not the case in the coastal and pre-Saharan regions where the majority of Algerians reside but where hydrocarbon resources are not found. In these populated areas thousands of innocent Algerians lost their lives in the absence of sufficient military and police protection. This outcome was not accidental as the decision was made to prioritize oil and gas, a relatively secure source of foreign-generated income, over the fate of the country’s citizens whose tax base is miniscule as a percentage of the national budget.

On the political front Algeria remains an authoritarian state despite the introduction and implementation of constitutionally defined structures of governance including a national assembly, an elected president, and a seemingly competitive political party system. Yet all national level decisions involving the country’s “strategic” sectors fall outside the purview of representative institutions and the formal authority of government. This is particularly the case on matters of national security and the control over Sonatrach. In these areas there are no structures of accountability, transparency, or representativeness. Behind the opaque wall of le pouvoir (the military-industrial complex) operates the true reins of power.

It is these two principle features of contemporary Algerian political life that help explain the how, why, and when the Algerian authorities decided to attack the In Amenas facilities. The terrorist assault on one of the country’s central natural gas processing plants posed a direct challenge to le pouvoir’s political and economic hegemony. This then was no simple hostage crisis or terrorist event as both have been and continue to be a regular feature of current Algerian life with AQIM staging frequent attacks throughout the country and often capturing hostages as a way by which to collect ransom and thereby provide the financing for future attacks.

Regional instability (Western Sahara), civil wars (Sudan), ethnic conflicts (Mali), or the disintegration of existing systems (Libya) raise serious questions about the extent that external relations may impact negatively on le pouvoir’s ability to maintain a stranglehold on Algeria’s political economy. As the leading hegemon in the Saharan-Sahelian region of northern Africa, Algeria’s military-industrial complex demands stability which helps explain its consternation over Gadhafi’s downfall in Libya and, initially at least, its opposition to foreign intervention in Mali that might have the potential of compromising its hegemonic status.

The confluence of regional instability spilling over into Algeria itself proved decisive in explaining the military assault on the gas facilities. The “rescue” mission was not to save the lives of hostages or kill terrorists or even prevent damage to gas installations; the mission had a greater imperative—saving le pouvoir itself. To have done otherwise would have raised serious questions about the legitimacy of the Algerian state as currently constituted with its high army command serving as the self-defined defender of the Algerian revolution. Compromising the oil and gas industry would not only have affected the “goose that lays the golden eggs” but would have frightened away future investors and partners in an industry that is being severely challenged by global competitors. Finally, to have acted indecisively on the terrorist issue, for which over 200,000 people have already died, would have deepened the already prevalent view that le pouvoir itself was implicated in many of those killings during the dark decade of the country’s civil war.

John P. Entelis is a professor of political science and director of the Middle East Studies Program at Fordham University.

Activists are increasingly speaking out on topics of reform and rights in the kingdom of Saudi Arabia, each with their own interpretation of the necessary course. On December 5, 2012 crowds came out to welcome the Salafi Sheikh Sulaiman bin Nasser al-Alwan following his release after nine years of imprisonment. Al-Alwan gathered fame among Salafis at home and abroad for his independence from the official Saudi religious line in combination with his religious credentials, despite being unknown outside the kingdom prior to making headlines with his arrest and reportedly harsh treatment by the Saudi authorities. Similarly, there have been other rumblings of change in Saudi society. Most prominently, a group of rights activists and reformists have been brought to trial in the past year—including two of the eleven co-founders the Saudi Civil and Political Rights Association, Abdullah al-Hamed and Mohammed al-Qahtani. They are accused of obstructing economic development, threatening stability, disobeying the king, flouting the Council of Senior Ulema, and defaming the Saudi judiciary. For their part, the defendants have upheld their nonviolent activism and their demands for political reform and a constitutional monarchy, but their trial has resulted in a number of confrontations.
In response to one judge’s question to al-Hamed during the November 11, 2012 session in Riyadh about his opinion of the king’s title of wali amr, the defendant responded that “The people are our wali amr.” His wording was a play on “The king is our wali amr,” a slogan referring to the Saudi interpretation of the verse “O believers, obey God, and obey the Messenger and those in authority [wali al-amr] among you” (Quran 4:59, Arberry) as conveying divine disapproval of political dissent. This was considered a challenge to Saudi Arabia’s monarchial paradigm and the strict security measures which have historically characterized the Kingdom.

The alliance between the Al Saud in the political establishment and the Al Asheikh (the descendants of Muhammed Abdel Wahhab) in the religious one dates back over a century, and has synthesized a system intent on control of citizens’ behavior—one considered inviolable and not to be questioned on the popular scale. However, this system no longer appears to be sustainable. A sizeable number of Saudi intellectuals, rights activists, and preachers have become convinced that there are other doctrinal and jurisprudential options contrary to the regime’s claims to sacrosanctity. Since 2004, the rumblings of popular dissent have grown louder: calls for a redefined social contract between the ruling family and the people are becoming increasingly more common. Reforms that would replace the absolute monarchy with a constitutional one—one that embraces participation, justice, and freedom. Saudis at social gatherings and in social networks alike have long shared jokes mocking a top figure in the ruling family, Mashal bin Abdul-Aziz Al-Saudi, referred to as “the prince of shabouk,” (roughly, barbed wire) who is notorious for seizing others’ land and surrounding it with wire. And the royals are not the only target; Abdul-Aziz Qasem, a journalist for the newspaper Al-Watan became the target of popular mockery when he described the Dhahaban political prison as a “five-star hotel” in a November 5, 2012 following his visit to the site—one carefully staged by the security agencies. With further analysis, it becomes clear that the situation in Saudi Arabia did not emerge from a vacuum, but is rather the end result of decades of political, doctrinal, and social repression.

The government has long attempted to curb popular-level religiosity and Islamist influence within the country’s public institutions (particularly in the media and education) while simultaneously distracting society with domestic and foreign issues. Saudi decision-makers were successful during the 1980s in mesmerizing the public with the communist threat in Afghanistan and the Shia threat in Iran, and preoccupying the remaining intellectuals and with fighting the “Western menace.” The Muslim Brotherhood and Salafi activists, meanwhile, focused their energies on backing the jihad in Afghanistan. It was during this time of turmoil that the $86 billion al-Yamamah arms-trade scandal occurred: a series of arms deals between British companies in exchange for Saudi oil. Other royals, meanwhile, reaped huge profits from real estate deals by selling land they obtained for free through what are known as “royal grants” set aside for princes. Saudi princes still own huge swathes of land while over 60% of the Saudi population combined (19.4 million as of 2011) lives in rental units, unable to afford or find suitable housing in a country of over 2 million square kilometers.

International pressure has helped bring the issue of reform in Saudi Arabia to the fore, while also mobilizing public opinion against corruption and the misuse of public funds—particularly in arms deals. Citizens at private social gatherings have begun to question the need for foreign troops; where is the Saudi army after the state has spent billions of dollars on weapons and training?

Two approaches to political reform have been prominent in the face of royal initiatives tackling issues that rights activists see as tangential. The rights activists represent the first approach: that of nonviolent activism aimed at reformulating the government from an absolute monarchy to a constitutional monarchy, with all that implies—a popularly agreed-upon constitution, an elected parliament, and checks on corruption and graft. Allied with this camp in this regard is the Umma Islamic Party, which calls for an elected head of government and the transfer of power. Umma’s founders were arrested days after announcing the establishment of their party in March 2011.

The second approach is that taken by the Movement for Islamic Reform in Arabia, which argues that reform is impossible as long as the Saud family is in power, and that the monarchy must be completely uprooted and replaced by a popularly elected government. This movement is led by the exiled Saad al-Faqih, who firmly believes that the ruling family is unfit and incapable of governing. Those calling for more radical change claim that a psychological analysis of the Saud family’s history shows that they believe themselves to have exclusive right over the country’s power and wealth—relinquishing only what they will by choice, not the people’s right. The princes who press for reforms are doing so only to achieve financial and political balance within the family, but themselves remain beholden to a culture of inherited right. This was perhaps best exemplified by Talal bin Abdul-Aziz when he compared the kingdom to a company, and the sons and grandsons of the founder to board members in his 2009 interview with Al-Arabiyya.

While the political reform activists want is based on the principles of justice and popular rule, achieving this reform would strip the royal family of most of their financial privileges and socio-political influence. No king would dare to push through such reforms—even assuming he were convinced of its justice. Doing so would provoke a crisis right at the heart of the royal family.

Ibrahim Hatlani is a Jeddah-based Saudi writer and researcher. 

This article is reprinted with permission from Sada.  It can be accessed online at:http://carnegieendowment.org/sada/2013/01/22/unhappy-arabia/f4et

There will be three impacts for the decision by a court this week to overturn President Mubarak’s—and former Interior Minister Habib El-Adly’s—life sentences and retry them. First, the new trials will stir up new confrontations between supporters of the former president and activist groups, especially those attached to the hundreds who died during the uprising. The confrontations are likely to be limited. But the timing could trigger wider complications. As the trial proceeds during the campaigning for the coming parliamentary election—arguably the most important milestone in the current political transition—it will be used by different groups, in the ruling side as well as the opposition, to inflame feelings and mobilize voters. This could cause conflicts in a society that is already disenchanted with the political process, with two years of intense fluidity, and is increasingly very distressed by acute economic conditions, and the prospect of more difficulties in the near future.

Second, the trial is a signal in the hugely important political confrontation currently taking place between, on one side, the economic and financial power centers that have entrenched themselves in the last decade of President Mubarak’s reign, and, on the other, the economic elites that have been rising in Egypt in the last 18 months. The interests of the former are immense; the ambitions of the latter are enormous. This confrontation remains at a nascent stage. The coming parliamentary election will be an important episode in this confrontation, because the next parliament will have very wide legislative powers on regulations and frameworks that will shape very lucrative economic sectors and industries. As the old economic powers try to preserve the most important of their interests and the new players attempt to grab market shares, both will seek to widen their political coalitions. And influencing street sentiments is a perfect vehicle for that. President Mubarak’s retrial will offer a golden opportunity.

And third, President Mubarak’s fate will be the finale of the dramatic story of the first Egyptian Republic—and of course the final act of his own political career, which is much more complicated than is currently portrayed in local and international media. Mubarak represents the last of the Pharaonic leaders of Egypt who ruled supreme relying on unquestioning loyalty from the sprawling and highly influential institutions of the old Egyptian state. Mubarak also represents the last episode of the overt control of the military establishment over the country. And he is the last Egyptian leader to rule the country with a mind-set anchored in the post Second-World-War period. He is the last in the thread that connected Nasser’s macro socio-political project in the 1960s, with Sadat transformations in the 1970s, to the last three decades. What followed—and will follow—is/will be a jump into a new phase; the six decades from the 1950s to the end of the first decade of the twenty first century (the life of the first Egyptian republic) exerts a major influence on the future, but does not mould it.

To a very large extent, the future will be a function of the behavior of a gigantic, and uncontrolled, eruption of bottom-up energy, fuelled by the aspirations, wills, and desires of over 45-million Egyptians under 35 years old, bent on changing the different crippling failures they have inherited. Dying in prison or as a free man, President Mubarak will not impact the flow or direction of this energy, but his fate—the final scene in the story of the first republic—will shape the background of the theatre in which this energy is unleashed.

Tarek Osman is the author of Egypt on the Brink: From Nasser to Mubarak. The first edition of the book was published by Yale University Press in 2010 and was translated to Arabic, Dutch, French, and Japanese. Osman’s writing has appeared or been cited in the Economist, Guardian, Independent, Financial Times, Foreign Affairs, and Boston Globe among many other publications.

Six months into his presidency, Mohammed Morsi is about to make a public policy decision similar to one that ultimately helped to bring about his predecessor’s downfall. Out of economic necessity, Morsi will likely sign a deal with the International Monetary Fund. But the incoming loan will be accompanied by a set of fiscal conditionality that could make the already precarious president and his Freedom and Justice Party even less popular. Unless the Muslim Brotherhood manages to find a religious, privatized coping mechanism.

In 1991, under pressure from massive fiscal and current account deficits, then-President Hosni Mubarak signed on to an IMF loan and IMF-sponsored structural adjustment program. The following years saw the economy open up to foreign investment, the removal of tariffs that protected small farmers, and the widespread privatization of publicly held enterprises, often in corrupt deals. At the same time, the government cut the top tax rate and slashed spending on subsidies while social spending remained largely stagnant. The reforms contributed to consistently impressive GDP growth, with the IMF singing the Mubarak regime’s praises for creating a “better business climate.” Many Egyptians, meanwhile, noticed that their situation wasn’t improving. Between 2000 and 2005 alone, when GDP growth averaged around 5 percent, the percentage of Egyptians living in absolute poverty rose from 16.7 percent to 19.6 percent. The inequality exacerbated by the 1990s; structural adjustment helped provide the impetus for the revolution.

While activists and politicians have good reason to campaign against the IMF based on Egypt’s previous experiences with structural adjustment, an infusion of foreign currency is at this point needed to prevent economic catastrophe. Foreign direct investment has shrunk by around 75 percent since January 25, 2011, and tourism revenues declined by around 30 percent. Egypt is facing a full-on balance of payments crisis. Almost 60 percent of the Central Bank’s foreign reserves have been spent trying to prop up the pound in the last two years—and with limited success. Late last month, the Central Bank moved to an auction system to slow the devaluation of the pound, which dropped by more than 6 percent since the start of the revolution.

If Egypt is to avoid a situation in which it can no longer pay for crucial imports—including staple commodities like wheat and oil—money has to come in from outside. Since the summer of 2011, a loan from the IMF has been under negotiation in fits and starts. The agreement was ready to be inked in November when political instability due to Morsi’s constitutional declaration forced it to be postponed. This month might finally be the one when it goes through, though. Minister of Planning and International Cooperation Ashraf Al-Araby told Al-Arabiya last week the deal would be finalized before parliamentary elections in February. The $4.8 billion IMF loan—with a fairly generous 1.06 percent interest rate—will help clear the way for an infusion of other loans and grants that could stop the pound’s precipitous depreciation.

But as it often does, the IMF is requiring the debtor to get its fiscal house in order, in this case requiring Morsi’s government to rein in the budget deficit that currently stands at almost 10 percent of GDP. In December, Morsi offered an idea of what IMF-backed austerity could look like when he used his temporary legislative powers to introduce a raft of changes to the tax code, including steep tax hikes on cigarettes, cooking oil and other basic goods in addition to raising income taxes on high earners. Another part of the austerity plan involves cutting the energy subsidies that are widely viewed as ineffectively targeted but crucial for many poor Egyptians. Further budgetary adjustments could lay down the road, though the military budget, which equals about 2 percent of GDP will likely go untouched.

The subsidy cuts and tax code changes will inevitably lead to higher prices. Coupled with an increasing costs of imports due to the devaluing currency—in particular wheat, around 50 percent of which comes from abroad—poor Egyptians will once again feel the pain of adjustment. The political consequences of this could be catastrophic for Morsi. In 1977, President Anwar Sadat cut subsidies on bread, rice, sugar and other staples at the urging of the IMF. That move triggered riots across the country that left scores dead and hundreds injured and were only quashed once the army was deployed on the streets—and the subsidy cuts were reversed. With, to put it mildly, a vibrant culture of street protests since the start of the revolution and many Egyptians already opposed to Morsi’s presidency (as evidenced by the major protests at the presidential palace in November), a severe economic shock could undermine the little credibility that Morsi and the Brotherhood have with the general public, maybe even leading to the so-called “revolution of the hungry.”

Or maybe not. For decades the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt built its popularity on its ability to provide social services where the state failed. Brotherhood-run hospitals provided higher quality medical care at affordable prices than was available in shoddy, ill-equipped and underfunded government-run hospitals. Special food markets sold meat and staple goods at low prices subsidized by Brotherhood donations. These provisions helped the Brotherhood recruit members and gain good will among Egypt’s impoverished majority. The Freedom and Justice Party’s good fortune in the three rounds of elections so far—more than 30 percent of last year’s parliamentary election, a victory for Morsi in the presidential election, a 60 percent approval of the Brotherhood-backed constitution—may have resulted partially from the Brotherhood’s years of charitable works.

Muslim Brotherhood charities could potentially help offset the social costs of economic restructuring and maintain some positive sentiment for Morsi, the Freedom and Justice Party and the Brotherhood in the wake of IMF-backed austerity. Goods sold at discount Brotherhood-sponsored markets could help compensate for the rise in prices for some poor people, for example. Why would the ruling party rely on a non-governmental social movement to deal with effects of public policy? It may sound counterintuitive but it is in some ways consistent with how the Brotherhood has operated so far, as when Muslim Brotherhood members attacked, and violently interrogated protesters outside the presidential palace in November, acting as a parallel security force.

Such a policy is, moreover, consistent with the Muslim Brotherhood’s ideological vision. The group’s leaders have made clear from early on that they support a free-market economy for Egypt with a more limited role for the state. In meetings with foreign governments and foreign investors, Brotherhood leaders have repeatedly reiterated their commitment to the free market. At the same time, some Brotherhood members have floated the idea of making zakat, or Islamic alms giving, legally compulsory. (A greater reliance on private charities is not uncommon for religious economic conservatives. George W. Bush’s administration promoted the growth of “faith-based initiatives.”) The Brotherhood’s left-wing opponents, such as Nasserist politician Hamdeen Sabahi, have a radically different vision for Egypt’s social welfare, one in which the state—not the mosque—is responsible for guaranteeing basic economic security. This disparity between the left and the Muslim Brothers underscores that the divisions between their views on economics and religion are not coincidental.

After a revolution demanding bread, freedom and social justice, severe austerity will be a challenging sell, no matter how much religious charities try to mitigate the effects. How the pound’s devaluation, the IMF loan, and the austerity program will play out remains completely unknown. As has been the case in all of the political situations in Egypt in the past two years, the political winds are constantly shifting. The current economic situation is a dire one and Morsi and the Brotherhood will undoubtedly be looking for whatever support they can muster it.

Max Strasser is the former news editor of the Egypt Independent. His articles have appeared inForeign Policy, the New Statesman, the Nation and elsewhere.

Two significant things happened in Tunisia Monday that capture the overall political condition of the country — and perhaps the wider Arab region — on the second anniversary of the overthrow of the former regime headed by President Zein el-Abidine Ben Ali. During commemorations of the January 14, 2011 overthrow of the regime, national leaders signed an important “social pact” during a National Constituent Assembly session in Tunis. But in provincial Sidi Bouzid, where the revolt against the former regime started after Mohammad Bouazizi set himself on fire and ultimately died in December 2010, disappointed crowds threw rocks and tomatoes at the president and parliamentary speaker who had come to address them.

These two symbolic developments aptly capture this moment, when several Arab countries are struggling to institutionalize the gains of their revolutions by achieving two things simultaneously: create new political orders that are legitimate, pluralistic, and accountable; and, address the hard problems in social and economic disparities that plague tens of millions of Arab men and women across the region. Those twin challenges today accurately reflect the two grievances that ultimately ended Mohammad Bouazizi’s life: the citizen’s inability to enjoy the basic material needs of life (income, food, housing, health care, education) and the parallel lack of political rights.

By coincidence I have been in North Africa, albeit at the western side of it, attending a conference in Rabat, Morocco, during this commemorative weekend. It has been instructive to witness the different approaches to political change in Morocco and Tunisia, whose people share many underlying socio-economic and political challenges, but have taken different routes to political evolution. The Moroccan approach of top-down changes initiated by the king has opened up the political system to some extent and allowed centrist Islamists to share in the ruling government coalition — though many Moroccans feel the changes are superficial and the political order is managed by the same powers close to the monarchy that have ruled for decades. Others are convinced that gradual, phased democratization under the king’s aegis is the most feasible route to lasting change, development and stability. Time will tell which approach will prevail.

The very different, populist-driven revolution in Tunisia in the past two years has opened political space for everyone in the country to compete for a share in power and governance, and to reach consensus on the new constitution and other historic changes. This same open political and social arena also allows others to assert their views, including groups of vigilantes in Tunisia (allegedly linked to the dominant Islamists) who have gone around beating up other citizens whose views they reject.

This is why I see much significance in the social pact that was signed this week during the Tunisian National Constituent Assembly by the prime minister, the secretary general of the Tunisian General Labor Union (UGTT), and the president of the Tunisian Union of Commerce, Industry and Craft. This is one of the few examples to date of attempts to launch political initiatives that bridge the twin demands for socio-economic rights and political-citizenship rights. This is an imperfect mechanism because some labor unions and political groups were not consulted on the agreement, including civil society representatives and farmer and consumer associations.

“Social justice” best captures the many dynamics that prompted the ongoing Arab revolutions, with “social” capturing citizens’ socio-economic rights, and “justice” capturing their need for political participation and respect. We will soon learn if the Tunisian social pact offers a political dynamic that allows the most important elements in society to work together for the changes they seek, especially in the critical socio-economic fields.

The pact comprises five sections that deal with economic growth and regional development, employment and vocational training programs, working conditions, social insurance, and the institutionalization of the social tripartite dialog. The dialog envisages creating a “national discussion board” with representatives of the three signatories, as a mechanism for political dialog on issues that will persist for years, especially economic progress.

This is one of the new concrete developments in the past two years that sees the broad demands for social justice being institutionalized in a political mechanism that includes important players in the country. The urgency of such moves was dramatized Monday by the protestors in Sidi Bouzid who threw rocks and tomatoes at Tunisia’s President Moncef Marzouki and Parliament Speaker Mustafa Ben Jaafar, mainly to express widespread citizen frustration in marginalized rural areas at the revolution’s failure to bring material benefits. Some in the crowd shouted “the people want the fall of the government,” or greeted the president with shouts of “Get out! Get out!” (irhal, irhal, in Arabic), the rallying cry of the revolution that toppled Ben Ali.

Some things have changed dramatically in the past two years, but others have not — most importantly, the underlying revolutionary drivers of socio-economic disparity and politically frustrated citizens.

Rami G. Khouri is Editor-at-large of The Daily Star, and Director of the Issam Fares Institute for Public Policy and International Affairs at the American University of Beirut, in Beirut, Lebanon. You can follow him @ramikhouri.

Copyright © 2013 Rami G. Khouri — distributed by Agence Global

Decree 97 of November 25, 2012 went virtually unnoticed in the political upheaval following President Morsi’s November 22 constitutional declaration which granted him almost dictatorial powers. Decree 97 amended the law regulating trade unions and removed all office holders of the state-sponsored Egyptian Federation of Trade Unions (ETUF) over 60 years old. They are to be replaced by candidates who received the second-largest vote tally in the 2006 national union elections—widely considered exceptionally corrupt. In August 2011, the Ministry of Manpower and Migration certified their invalidation and dissolved the ETUF’s executive board.

The decree also authorizes Minister of Manpower and Migration Khalid al-Azhari of the Muslim Brotherhood’s Freedom and Justice Party to appoint replacements to vacant trade union offices if no second-place candidate exists. State security officials banned thousands of opposition trade unionists from running in 2006, so hundreds of candidates ran unopposed. Thus, as many as 150 Muslim Brothers could be appointed to posts in ETUF’s twenty-four national sector unions, while fourteen of twenty-four executive board members will be sacked.

Additionally, Mubarak regime stalwart ETUF President Ahmad ‘Abd al-Zahir was replaced by al-Gibali al-Maraghi—a younger member of the old guard—and Muslim Brother Yusri Bayyumi became ETUF treasurer. Only three advocates of independent trade unionism remain on the executive board. On December 24, President Morsi appointed al-Maraghi to the Shura Council, the upper house of parliament, which many suspect was a reward for working with the Brotherhood.

Decree 97 also extends the terms of incumbent union office-holders for six months or until the next ETUF elections (whichever comes first). Muslim Brothers and ETUF old guard figures will supervise those elections and likely confirm their joint control over the organization. This is characteristic of the Muslim Brotherhood’s recent political practice. Rather than reform institutions and power centers of the Mubarak regime, it has sought to extend its control over them. But as in other spheres, they do not have a concrete program or enough trained personnel to manage ETUF. Therefore, they are dividing control of the organization with Mubarak era figures. Their common interest is first and foremost bureaucratic—to maintain their positions. The Brothers also seek to limit the extent of independent trade unionism, as it constitutes a potential opposition to their free market ideology.

Almost a thousand new unions independent of ETUF have been established since the January 25, 2011 uprising against the Mubarak regime. Many of them have joined one of the two new union federations—the Egyptian Federation of Independent Trade Unions or the Egyptian Democratic Labor Congress. The federations and many of their constituent unions are weak in resources and organizational capacity—in part because Egypt had no experience with democratic trade unionism between the early 1950s and 2011. However, the existence of these federations and the high-profile struggles of many of their affiliated unions—municipal real estate tax assessors; Cairo bus and Metro workers; teachers; iron, steel, and ceramics workers; Ain Sokhna port workers—have put the demands for democratic trade unionism, workers freedom of association, and the right to bargain collectively on the political agenda. The International Labor Organization and the International Trade Union Confederation have supported these goals. Yet Egypt routinely flouts ILO conventions affirming these principles that it ratified long ago.

Independent trade unionists strongly oppose Decree 97. On November 28 the Center for Trade Union and Workers Services (CTUWS) held a conference under the slogan, “No to the “Brotherhoodization of the Unions.” Its General Coordinator Kamal Abbas addressed the gathering and said, “We reject Morsi’s law, not because we defend those over sixty, but because the organizational rules do not permit anyone but corrupt people to take their place.”

During the week between the two rounds of the referendum on Egypt’s newly adopted constitution (December 15-22) three large, strategic groups of industrial workers went on strike. Two of them quickly won their main demands. The Eastern Tobacco Company, a public sector firm headquartered in Giza, holds the monopoly on local cigarette production. Its thirteen thousand workers secured restoration of their production incentives, which had been cut because the company reduced its output anticipating new cigarette taxes. Similarly, eight thousand workers at the public-sector Egyptian Aluminum Company in Nag Hammadi secured restoration of profit-sharing bonuses which had been cut from 12 months to 45 days’ basic pay.

Belying the common distinction between “political” and “economic” demands, the Eastern Tobacco workers also demanded that the company’s CEO (a Mubarak-era appointee) be removed for corruption. An interim CEO was appointed and their charges will be investigated. Moreover, Minister of Investment Usama Salih, a technocrat who occupied high positions in the Mubarak era, personally intervened in both strikes and directed that the workers’ demands be met. It will cost the state treasury EGP70 million to meet the aluminum workers’ demands, and millions more for the tobacco workers.

Despite these victories, though, the future of independent trade unions and the workers’ movement under the new constitution is uncertain. Article 52 states: “The freedom to form syndicates, unions, and cooperatives is a right guaranteed by law.” But the only existing law is Law 35 of 1976, which gives ETUF a monopoly on the organization of trade unions. The article also permits the dissolution of entire unions and their executive boards by judicial order. Articles 63 and 70 appear to permit certain forms of forced and child labor that would violate ILO conventions (Nos. 29, 105, 138, and 182) that Egypt has ratified.

Former Minister of Manpower and Migration Dr. Ahmad Burai resigned in protest in November 2011 over the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces’ refusal to allow the cabinet to enact the “Trade Union Freedoms” law his ministry had drafted with input from independent unions. On December 22 al-Burai told the daily al-Shorouk that the constitution violates ILO conventions (Nos. 87 and 98) that Egypt has ratified which guarantee workers freedom of association and the right to bargain collectively. The ILO might once again place Egypt on the “black list”—as the ILO’s list of “special cases” is dubbed by Egyptian advocates of democratic trade unionism.

There were nearly 1,400 strikes and other labor protests in 2011. According to the Egyptian Center for Economic and Social Rights, there were 3,150 collective workers’ actions in the eight months of 2012 for which they compiled statistics. This continuing social movement has the potential to block the plan to revive Egypt’s stalling economy adopted in principle by Egyptian and International Monetary Fund technocrats in November 2011. Implementation of the agreement would bring Egypt a $4.8 billion IMF loan and potentially up to $5 billion in aid from the European Union—as well as $1.4 billion in foreign aid and financial guarantees from the United States (in addition to the annual $1.3 billion in military aid). However, it will result in higher prices, lower government subsidies for consumer and producer goods, new sales taxes, and cuts to the number of state employees. This austerity program would further exacerbate unemployment (now officially at 12 percent) and inflation (currently about 10 percent per annum).

Consequently, implementation was suspended after the unexpected massive opposition to Morsi’s November 22 constitutional declaration. The Egyptian president had promised that there was “no conditionality” attached to the IMF loan, despite the well-known history of such conditions in Egypt and elsewhere. He does not have a mandate to implement an austerity program that will be both unpopular and very likely to increase the number of strikes and worker protests.

In the arena of trade unionism and labor relations—as in the broader political and economic arena—Egypt’s future is uncertain. Industrial workers comprise one of the sectors that solidly, but certainly not unanimously, opposed the new constitution. In addition, large numbers of previously unpoliticized “couch potatoes” participated in militant demonstrations against Morsi’s November 22 decree and the proposed constitution.

Workers have not been a strong factor in the post-Mubarak national political arena. Some components of the National Salvation Front (NSF) formed to oppose the constitution claim to represent workers’ interests. But its leading figures have done little to build grassroots support among workers. Many NSF supporters hope the front will contest the upcoming parliamentary elections as a unified bloc. This could create a different balance of forces than in the overwhelmingly Islamist first post-Mubarak parliament. In that case, the contest over Egypt’s future would take place in the parliament as well as in streets and workplaces. If not, streets and workplaces will continue as they have for the past two years.

Joel Beinin is the Donald J. McLachlan Professor of History and a professor of Middle East history at Stanford University. This article is based on the press and interviews conducted in Cairo in December 2012. Thanks to Dina Bishara and Ahmad Shokr for their insightful conversation and comments.

This article is reprinted with permission from Sada.  It can be accessed online at:http://carnegieendowment.org/2013/01/08/all-unionized-and-nowhere-to-go/f04r

The Arab Spring’s echoes in sub-Saharan Africa are more complex than initially imagined; for example, much has been made of how Libya’s crisis has led to Mali’s crisis, but rather less has been said about how the transitions in North Africa may set the stage for new forms of security cooperation in the Sahel. Such possibilities are quietly taking shape now, even as the world struggles to find a multilateral response to northern Mali. A prime example is the upcoming January 2013 meeting of the Community of Sahel-Saharan States (CEN-SAD) in N’djamena, Chad, where Morocco will likely continue its steps to take command of the organization.

CEN-SAD was set adrift by the Arab Spring, which unmoored the African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA) and shook the African Union (AU) by removing its key supporter, Muammar Qaddafi. The least known of the AU’s eight regional economic communities (RECs), the Community of Sahel-Saharan States proffered lofty and increasingly improbable visions of economic union and political/cultural exchange for an ever-growing swath of the continent; it mushroomed from six to 28 members over thirteen years through Libyan largesse. By late 2011, however, the organization looked likely to fade along with the death of Libya’s dictator.

Meanwhile, the Arab Spring opened up new partnership opportunities for Morocco, Africa’s only non-AU member country, which has been long isolated by the Western Sahara conflict and its rivalry with neighboring Algeria. With the polarizing personalities of Qaddafi and Zine el Abidine Ben Ali gone, there may be glimmers of a new hope for one of the African Peace and Security Architecture’s most troubled northern REC: the Arab Maghreb Union (AMU), whose revival Tunisia looks set to push forward. Also about a year ago, African states began lobbying Morocco to revitalize CEN-SAD.

Of these alliances, CEN-SAD must be particularly attractive to Morocco, for several reasons. Its preeminence in the organization will likely go uncontested; no other member has the spur, stature, and stability to lead it. Other potential leaders (namely Nigeria and Kenya) are firmly ensconced as anchor states in existing, functional RECs—Nigeria in the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) and Kenya in the East African Community (EAC), among others. Egypt remains deeply embroiled in regional diplomacy and its own internal affairs, and Algeria’s absence from CEN-SAD should allow Morocco free reign to guide the organization independent of its neighbor.

Moreover, the Kingdom may enjoy novel forms of influence within a REC based on a projection of Africa’s Arab and Muslim North into the continent’s South; CEN-SAD apparently an abbreviation taken from Arabic letters sin and sad (for al-sahil and al-sahara), covers over half of Africa’s nations, and what unites such a diverse set of countries—from the Gambia to the Comoros, and Somalia to Sierra Leone—more than any connection to ecoclimatic or environmental conditions, is Islam. With the exception of Algeria, CEN-SAD is the REC of all Muslim-majority African states (as well as member states with significant Muslim minorities)—convenient for a king whose authority rests in part on his position as “Commander of the Faithful” (amir al-muminin).

More importantly, however, leadership of CEN-SAD would allow Rabat to engage in a region where it has deep and direct security concerns. Moroccan officials regularly reference the south and southeast as major sources of concern, especially for rising transnational threats. The bordering Sahel is a zone of illegal immigration; of illicit trafficking in weapons, arms, and people; and of operation and sanctuary for al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) and a proliferating set of armed groups. These challenges are clearly costing Morocco; as more illegal migrants settle in the country, more trafficking corrupts Saharawi youth, and more Islamist terrorist attacks threaten metropolitan centers and tourist hubs. While weathering the Arab Spring, the Moroccan government adopted a new constitution in July 2011 that restates Morocco’s foreign policy priorities, with notable prominence given to sub-Saharan Africa. The Sahel is explicitly highlighted, and it follows only the Maghreb and the umma (and precedes the Mediterranean world) in the document’s listing of Morocco’s regional priorities. For all of these reasons, the country has an interest in adopting and adapting the ready-made structure of CEN-SAD—an organization with a history not only of economic interaction and cultural exchange, but of deployment of multi-national forces for peacekeeping operations (as it did in 2001 with the Central African Republic).

Last June, Rabat took the first step: hosting a CEN-SAD meeting aimed at revitalizing the organization and shifting its focus toward security. The upcoming N’djamena meeting should provide further insight into Morocco’s intentions and CEN-SAD’s prospects and direction. Key indicators to watch include responsibilities and authorities delegated to CEN-SAD’s new peace and security committee; financial commitments made to CEN-SAD by member states, particularly Morocco; proposals to locate any CEN-SAD organs outside of Tripoli, Libya (where the organization is presently housed); the role taken by weighty members, such as Egypt, Senegal, Nigeria, and Kenya; and the emphasis placed on security questions in CEN-SAD’s west (like Mali and Nigeria) rather than its east (such as Somalia and Sudan–South Sudan). Last month in N’djamena, Chadian government officials described a scenario in which peripheral nations peel away, no longer drawn to the table by Qaddafi’s carrots (or sticks), and CEN-SAD tightens to a ten-country community focused exclusively on the REC’s west. This would prime the organization for action in places like northern Mali. Finally, beyond the meeting itself, any reaction from Algeria regarding a Moroccan-led CEN-SAD reboot will have major implications. A particularly interesting and thorny situation for Morocco would be an Algerian application for membership.

The January 2013 summit under the presidency of Chad will mark an advance, but CEN-SAD will remain hard pressed to make any quick-fuse intervention in the Mali crisis. Nonetheless, this improbable REC may eventually find itself engaged there and in the Sahel more broadly—whether in the current crisis or another down the road. The Arab Spring’s reverberations are full of contradictions and ironies. It may be that CEN-SAD’s founder had to die for the organization to live, and that the REC’s anchor state will shift from one of the AU’s strongest advocates, Libya, to its only non-member, Morocco. The straight line from the Libya crisis to the Mali crisis is rather clear, but the ultimate meaning of the Arab Spring for peace and security in Africa remains to be seen.

Benjamin P. Nickels is an assistant professor of transnational threats and counter-terrorism at the Africa Center for Strategic Studies. This article is in part based on direct conversations with Moroccan, Libyan, and Chadian officials in Washington, DC and N’djamena, Chad.

This article is reprinted with permission from Sada.  It can be accessed online at: http://carnegieendowment.org/2013/01/03/morocco-s-engagement-with-sahel-community/ez1k

After three days in Amman enjoying a New Year’s break with friends, talking politics with a wide range of Jordanians and other analysts, and reading every parliamentary election poster in sight, I am convinced that if you want to visit only one country to gain insights into the many forces that are shaping our region, Jordan is the country to visit. This is because every single important political, religious, economic, ideological, cultural and civic element from across the Arab world is present and active in the country — including pan-Arab nationalists, narrow Jordanian state nationalists, Muslim Brotherhood mainstream Islamists, more hard-line Salafists, tribal and ethnic forces, private sector globalists, civil society and human rights activists, a deep security and intelligence system, a parliament with limited credibility, thugs who beat up demonstrators, Arabs who engage or shun coexistence with Israel, monarchists and republicans, vocal youth activists, digital dynamism, refugees from other countries, severe economic stress and social disparities, fervent social entrepreneurs, Arab and foreign powers that meddle in local affairs, constitutional adjustments, a few home-grown terrorists, and a coffee shop and café culture jamboree.

The country also is passing through what is probably a defining moment in its history since its establishment 90 years ago in the wake of World War One. All the elements that shape and define the well-being of the state are now in motion and will either reconfigure the country politically and economically or see the existing system persist with increasing tensions and vulnerabilities. Jordan is not facing an existential threat and the monarchy is not going anywhere; the majority of Jordanians complains vigorously, but they get on with their lives and look to a better future through gradual, real reforms and better economic conditions. Nevertheless, the monarchy — along with its key support systems of the political-corporate elite, the security services, and foreign donors — is certainly facing its most serious challenge ever, even more serious than the plots of the 1950s and 60s or the brief clash with Palestinian guerrillas in 1970.

This is because Jordan’s problem today is that three critical groups in the country have been slowly losing faith in the capacity of the ruling elite to manage the country efficiently and equitably, and they are speaking out to demand significant changes in the political and economic management systems. These groups are the tens of thousands of Islamists who tend to be disproportionately of Palestinian origin and live in a few large urban areas; the marginalized rural Transjordanians in places like Tafileh and Maan, who dangerously mirror the same sentiments of vulnerability and fear that we saw in rural Tunisia, Egypt and Syria in early 2011; and — perhaps the most troubling danger sign that the regime must grasp soon — the thousands of educated, dynamic, creative and loyal young professionals from both East and West Bank lineage who have been disappointed by the lack of political reform and economic advances during the last dozen years of King Abdullah II’s reign.

The result of the economic disparities and the parallel political discontent that ripple through the country is mainly evident in a newfound willingness by young and adult alike to speak their mind in public, including most notably crossing former red lines: criticizing aspects of the royal family’s rule and the security services’ involvement in many aspects of people’s lives. Critics and many independent analysts see the king as out of touch and unresponsive, while others close to the monarchy offer much counter-evidence to show that the king regularly meets with locals across the country to be sure he understands the criticisms against him; this includes a series of ongoing small gatherings with the demonstrators who take to the street to challenge him to make real constitutional reforms that dilute the monarchy’s powers.

The king and some elements in the ruling elite have grasped the nature of citizens’ discontent, and are exploring the most realistic and credible way to respond to populist demands. But they have yet to find the key to moving the political system forward into a new balance of power and responsibility between the parliament, the monarchy, the judiciary and the cabinet.

The security system hovers above them all as the ultimate guarantor of state stability, but even the security agencies are facing unprecedented calls by some citizens to refrain from interfering in areas that are not deep security issues (i.e., education, media, and social media) and even to have security budgets scrutinized by the elected parliament.

So this is a good month for the visitor who might visit Jordan to gain insights into sentiments across much of the Arab world, because the parliamentary elections at the end of January have generated public discussions that highlight the very deep demands for reform — while simultaneously clarifying the weaknesses and constraints that still hamper the Jordanian system’s capacity to undertake real reforms.

Reform demands and obstacles in Jordan

If, as I noted earlier, Jordan is the one country that best captures the many contradictory political, social, religious and cultural sentiments that swirl throughout the Arab World, now is the best time to visit Jordan as these sentiments are expressed in public during the month-long run-up to the parliamentary elections at the end of January. Despite the fact that the Islamic Action Front (Muslim Brotherhood party) and others are boycotting the elections, I found myself on a visit to Amman last week captivated by slogans and messages on the thousands electioneering posters on almost every tree and electricity pole of the main cities.

The slogans provide a fascinating window into the minds of candidates, and through them into the mindsets of the citizenry, judging by how candidates emphasize issues that they believe voters care about. My unscientific analysis of the candidates’ slogans reveals a few dominant themes that capture the mood in Jordan, and probably in other Arab countries. These include: affirming the citizen’s right to speak out and shape national policies; a massive demand for (unspecified) “reform” and “change”; a desire for Jordanian national unity and cohesion; greater freedom, democracy and dignity; citizen rights; social justice; women’s rights; a free media; fighting corruption; supporting the Palestine issue; and a prevalent call for citizens to participate in elections and public life if they want to bring about real change.

So why has no Arab country been able to implement serious and credible political reforms that respond to these obvious demands? Despite some reforms and greater public liberties in countries like Jordan and Morocco, core grievances remain strong and widespread (mostly about corruption, abuse of power, inequitable opportunities for under-represented citizens, poor socio-economic conditions, and security sector dominance of the executive and legislative branches).

Jordan is grappling with these issues once again, after the missed opportunity of the first attempt a decade ago to bring about comprehensive reform from the top — through the National Agenda process that King Abdullah initiated but then apparently abandoned due to strong opposition from some Jordanian quarters. Now, the demands for change are emanating more from the grassroots, driven by three simultaneous forces: sustained economic stress especially among marginalized provincial populations, the spillover political momentum of the uprisings in other Arab countries, and citizens’ declining confidence in the king’s and the power elite’s seriousness to bring about real change.

In response to calls for substantive constitutional reforms, my impression is that King Abdullah understands the need to slowly change the system into a constitutional monarchy in which parliament and the cabinet run the government, and the monarch remains above day-to-day politics and is mainly responsible for safeguarding the integrity of the state (including the non-political status of the armed forces, judiciary and religious institutions). Yet he has been unable to respond to the demands for such political reforms because a more representative and empowered parliament is the center of gravity of the apparently unbridgeable gap between the two most powerful populist forces in the country whose demands are diametrically opposed to one another (Transjordanian tribalists-nationalists, and Islamists-Palestinians).

Some powerful Transjordanians reject a fully representative parliament that might see Islamists and Jordanians of Palestinian origin dominate the political-economic system, especially since the Muslim Brotherhood’s base is disproportionately among Palestinian-Jordanians. The Muslim Brotherhood and other leftist or Arab nationalist opposition groups, on the other hand, seek a fully representative parliament that would satisfy citizen demands for equality and credible accountability.

The new election law aimed to make incremental progress on this issue, by expanding the number of seats to 150, including 27 seats elected by national lists, alongside primarily tribal local district candidates. The 27 national list seats seem to be an attempt to achieve two goals: to prod the development of political parties that are not based on local tribal or religious affiliations, and indirectly to redress the chronic structural imbalance that has always favored rural tribal districts and pro-government MPs who are elected on the basis of tribal loyalty.

This election will probably not tell us anything new about Jordan’s capacity to change in response to citizen demands. King Abdullah will soon have to accept the limits of his ability to prod gradual reforms from above, given the sharp differences between the two main political groups in the country. Bold leadership will be required in the near future to override the narrow provincial concerns of both tribalists and Islamists. And instead, it must harness the untapped power of those millions of Jordanians who have gone well beyond Transjordanian-tribal-Palestinian-Islamist identities, and instead desperately seek the comforts and duties of equal citizenship under the rule of law that is equitably applied to all, which has been the key driving force of the Arab uprisings in the past two years.

Rami G. Khouri is Editor-at-large of The Daily Star, and Director of the Issam Fares Institute for Public Policy and International Affairs at the American University of Beirut, in Beirut, Lebanon. You can follow him @ramikhouri.

Copyright © 2013 Rami G. Khouri — distributed by Agence Global