Allies: Barack Obama and Hosni Mubarak in Cairo, June 2009. Would we be better off avoiding friendships with less than desirable regimes?
“He may be a sonofabitch, but he’s our sonofabitch,” is how Franklin D Roosevelt described Nicaragua’s dictator, Anastasio Somoza, in the 1930s. Many enemies of the US, and more than a few friends, see this as the prevailing attitude of nearly every American president since. It is certainly assumed to have been the approach behind US support for Hosni Mubarak.
Recent events raise questions about whether the west should go in for the sort of realpolitik that fostered the US-Egyptian relationship. Obama’s 2009 description of Mubarak as a “stalwart ally and a force for stability and good” now sounds more than a little embarrassing. More broadly, can we ever know countries well enough to calculate the consequences of our actions? Would we be better off simply going for a foreign policy that reflected our democratic ideals, and eschewing encouragement of less than desirable regimes?
Sadly, it is never so simple. What we think of as “realpolitik” was often the tactical outcome of cold war battles: while the Soviets were sponsoring liberation movements and co-opting the Castros, Nassers and Gaddafis, the west was often propping up any alternative. That was rarely an unalloyed success, as we saw with Ngo Dinh Diem in Vietnam in the 1960s, the Shah of Iran in the 1970s, and now Mubarak.
But neither is the idealistic alternative a perfect option. The fall of the Shah was accelerated by Jimmy Carter’s so-called principled policies, and we have paid the price ever since. Similarly, the neocon policy of aggressive promotion of democracy around the world decisively blew up in George W Bush’s (and Tony Blair’s) face.
The trouble is that both approaches presume a level of knowledge and calculation beyond our capability. I cannot, for instance, find a single expert who predicted the Tunisian and Egyptian meltdown before two months ago. What’s more, the unpredictability is getting stronger. From the relatively stable, fixed-power relationships of the second half of the 20th century, we are sliding towards a more dynamic, almost 19th-century scenario of shifting alliances and emerging power competition.
How do we adapt? The best approach in these fluid circumstances is what I call “quiet idealism.” Western powers should stick to their ideals of freedom, democracy, property rights and the rule of law (the formula for every successful modern state), while recognising that transplanting these ideals is not equally easy in every culture. Within that framework, we should deploy every weapon of realpolitik to deliver our idealistic and material ends.
What would this mean, in practice? In the case of Egypt, we have no choice but to welcome the new order. It will be a painful transition, due in no small part to the length of time that Mubarak was in office—often propped up by the west. He was not an all-bad president by Middle-Eastern standards. He encouraged some economic liberalisation at home and stability abroad, particularly in peace with Israel. Egypt’s economy grew by about 5 per cent a year, though little of the benefit went to the poor.
Nevertheless, he also divided, undermined or removed any alternative leadership, and crippled legitimate political activity. Under his tenure, Egypt was a police state. I first heard about the ferocity of its secret police when discussing the rendition programme—in which they took a large part—with a US journalist. “If you really want answers you send them to Jordan,” he said. “If you don’t care about getting them back, you send them to Egypt.”
Egypt is the most pivotal Arab state by virtue of its size, position and history, and anti-western sentiment is certainly prominent on its streets—not least because of the west’s perceived support for the outgoing regime. Yet we should not fear a democratic Egypt. The country is heavily dependent on the west: tourism, cotton exports and the revenue from the Suez Canal are all vital to its economy, and US military aid alone has totalled some $35bn since the signing of the 1978 Camp David accords. The arbiter of Egypt’s political transition is the military; and the army and its allies are the owners and beneficiaries of an estimated 40 per cent of the economy. They are not going to allow their interests to be harmed. That is why they are giving themselves time to ensure the election runs smoothly and that the vote is not hijacked by the Muslim Brotherhood. Neither will the army permit the scrapping of the peace treaty with Israel: its leaders know they are no match for the Israeli army. They also know that reneging on the treaty is the fastest way to lose the US subsidy.
When it comes, the new, democratic Egyptian government will be less comfortable for the Americans in particular. But it is unlikely that the army will allow it to engage in self-destructive policies, or facilitate the election of an Islamist leadership.
The best way for America to encourage a pro-western outcome is to be a respectful and supportive ally. It should make itself the generous facilitator of Egypt’s difficult transition to a modern economy and a viable democratic state. No strategy is risk free, but such a policy is most likely to deliver a decent and stable outcome for the Egyptian people, safety for Israel, and a good example for all the other fragile presidential gerontocracies that populate the Arab world.
Perhaps the greatest exponent of “quiet idealism” in the Victorian era was Bismarck. He well understood its limitations: he described the role of a statesman as listening for the footsteps of providence, and leaping up to catch his coat by the hem. Yet he showed what could be achieved by quiet idealism, as did its greatest modern practitioners: Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan. They demonstrated that the combination of an unswerving belief in our own principles, a degree of tactical subtlety and an ability to go with the grain of the times can literally change the world.
Also in Prospect's middle east special:
Is Arab democracy a fantasy?: The revolutions of 2011 have proven that Arab culture is not incompatible with democracy. But the quest for freedom is far from complete, writes Eugene Rogan
Arab democracy: A family affairGetting rid of the head of state is one thing, standing up to the head of your family quite another, argues Shereen El Feki
Building Arab peace one checkpoint at a time:Tony Blair speaks to Donald Macintyre about his role as middle east envoy
“He may be a sonofabitch, but he’s our sonofabitch,” is how Franklin D Roosevelt described Nicaragua’s dictator, Anastasio Somoza, in the 1930s. Many enemies of the US, and more than a few friends, see this as the prevailing attitude of nearly every American president since. It is certainly assumed to have been the approach behind US support for Hosni Mubarak.
Recent events raise questions about whether the west should go in for the sort of realpolitik that fostered the US-Egyptian relationship. Obama’s 2009 description of Mubarak as a “stalwart ally and a force for stability and good” now sounds more than a little embarrassing. More broadly, can we ever know countries well enough to calculate the consequences of our actions? Would we be better off simply going for a foreign policy that reflected our democratic ideals, and eschewing encouragement of less than desirable regimes?
Sadly, it is never so simple. What we think of as “realpolitik” was often the tactical outcome of cold war battles: while the Soviets were sponsoring liberation movements and co-opting the Castros, Nassers and Gaddafis, the west was often propping up any alternative. That was rarely an unalloyed success, as we saw with Ngo Dinh Diem in Vietnam in the 1960s, the Shah of Iran in the 1970s, and now Mubarak.
But neither is the idealistic alternative a perfect option. The fall of the Shah was accelerated by Jimmy Carter’s so-called principled policies, and we have paid the price ever since. Similarly, the neocon policy of aggressive promotion of democracy around the world decisively blew up in George W Bush’s (and Tony Blair’s) face.
The trouble is that both approaches presume a level of knowledge and calculation beyond our capability. I cannot, for instance, find a single expert who predicted the Tunisian and Egyptian meltdown before two months ago. What’s more, the unpredictability is getting stronger. From the relatively stable, fixed-power relationships of the second half of the 20th century, we are sliding towards a more dynamic, almost 19th-century scenario of shifting alliances and emerging power competition.
How do we adapt? The best approach in these fluid circumstances is what I call “quiet idealism.” Western powers should stick to their ideals of freedom, democracy, property rights and the rule of law (the formula for every successful modern state), while recognising that transplanting these ideals is not equally easy in every culture. Within that framework, we should deploy every weapon of realpolitik to deliver our idealistic and material ends.
What would this mean, in practice? In the case of Egypt, we have no choice but to welcome the new order. It will be a painful transition, due in no small part to the length of time that Mubarak was in office—often propped up by the west. He was not an all-bad president by Middle-Eastern standards. He encouraged some economic liberalisation at home and stability abroad, particularly in peace with Israel. Egypt’s economy grew by about 5 per cent a year, though little of the benefit went to the poor.
Nevertheless, he also divided, undermined or removed any alternative leadership, and crippled legitimate political activity. Under his tenure, Egypt was a police state. I first heard about the ferocity of its secret police when discussing the rendition programme—in which they took a large part—with a US journalist. “If you really want answers you send them to Jordan,” he said. “If you don’t care about getting them back, you send them to Egypt.”
Egypt is the most pivotal Arab state by virtue of its size, position and history, and anti-western sentiment is certainly prominent on its streets—not least because of the west’s perceived support for the outgoing regime. Yet we should not fear a democratic Egypt. The country is heavily dependent on the west: tourism, cotton exports and the revenue from the Suez Canal are all vital to its economy, and US military aid alone has totalled some $35bn since the signing of the 1978 Camp David accords. The arbiter of Egypt’s political transition is the military; and the army and its allies are the owners and beneficiaries of an estimated 40 per cent of the economy. They are not going to allow their interests to be harmed. That is why they are giving themselves time to ensure the election runs smoothly and that the vote is not hijacked by the Muslim Brotherhood. Neither will the army permit the scrapping of the peace treaty with Israel: its leaders know they are no match for the Israeli army. They also know that reneging on the treaty is the fastest way to lose the US subsidy.
When it comes, the new, democratic Egyptian government will be less comfortable for the Americans in particular. But it is unlikely that the army will allow it to engage in self-destructive policies, or facilitate the election of an Islamist leadership.
The best way for America to encourage a pro-western outcome is to be a respectful and supportive ally. It should make itself the generous facilitator of Egypt’s difficult transition to a modern economy and a viable democratic state. No strategy is risk free, but such a policy is most likely to deliver a decent and stable outcome for the Egyptian people, safety for Israel, and a good example for all the other fragile presidential gerontocracies that populate the Arab world.
Perhaps the greatest exponent of “quiet idealism” in the Victorian era was Bismarck. He well understood its limitations: he described the role of a statesman as listening for the footsteps of providence, and leaping up to catch his coat by the hem. Yet he showed what could be achieved by quiet idealism, as did its greatest modern practitioners: Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan. They demonstrated that the combination of an unswerving belief in our own principles, a degree of tactical subtlety and an ability to go with the grain of the times can literally change the world.
Also in Prospect's middle east special:
Is Arab democracy a fantasy?: The revolutions of 2011 have proven that Arab culture is not incompatible with democracy. But the quest for freedom is far from complete, writes Eugene Rogan
Arab democracy: A family affairGetting rid of the head of state is one thing, standing up to the head of your family quite another, argues Shereen El Feki
Building Arab peace one checkpoint at a time:Tony Blair speaks to Donald Macintyre about his role as middle east envoy
