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Charged with tragic comedy

by Sami Halabi
written by Sami Halabi

Lebanon’s political theater played out another scene last month with a host of government actors trying to elbow their way to centerstage, propped up by a supporting cast of journalists and media figures. Entitled “Utterly Missing the Point”, the plot of this tragic comedy pitted these two groups in a mischievous conspiracy against the Lebanese in which they engineered dramatic distractions to obfuscate the true reason for the country’s failing public services. The scene opened with the infamous General Michel Aounand his son-in-law, Minister of Energy and Water Gebran Bassil, initiating a blistering quarrel in cabinet over how to divvy up $1.2 billion amongst different contractors and authorities in the installation of new power generation — a project that would, when finished in 2015, supply just barely enough electricity to meet what was needed in 2009. The argument was then duly taken up by a chorus of objecting cabinet blocs and members of parliament who, in the end, decided against implementing any effective checks and balances on the expense.

The obfuscation of the spectacle would not have been possible without the generous support of Lebanon’s newsrooms, which proceeded, with passion and dedication, to cover the controversy ad nauseam without ever elucidating the reasons behind the objections to the proposed legislation, or even the content of the initial proposal. In not focusing on the plan or the law, they scuttled any chance of a counter-narrative that may have pressured the government to actually implement the long-awaited basket of solutions to the country’s most basic needs.

Then there were the exhibitions in befuddlement (misleadingly labeled press conferences) of the principal architect, Minister Bassil, at the beginning of the month.

At the first exhibition, the media dutifully fulfilled their part of the bargain, focusing on why Bassil had not attended a meeting of other ministerial virtuosos aimed at putting the finishing touches on the plan earlier in the day, and not on the details themselves — a particularly canny contrivance. For sending their headliner journalists to the first exhibition and, after the bickering had subsided, their lower tier to the next — where the issues of how to actually realize the objectives of the newly finished piece were up for discussion — we should extend applause to Lebanon’s news agencies.

This propensity of the media to focus on the petty infighting and sound bites espoused by Lebanon’s sectarian leaders, as opposed to dissecting legislative deficiencies and potential solutions, arrives from the intersection of habit and our sectarian media landscape. Maintaining the irroutine throughout, the media furthers the narrative of “Utterly Missing the Point” by attributing utmost importance to Lebanese leaders’ intentionally insidious and vacuous polemics, entrenching in the mind of the public the insurmountability of the status quo.

The media and its partners in both the ruling majority and opposition have inspired journalists to usher in a new era of reporting and construct the closest thing we have to a national narrative. From here on out, we should endeavor to set the framework for a new philosophy, which all Lebanese, regardless of creed or social standing, can adhere to. As we have done recently, we must seek to adhere to the principle of the bare minimum: demanding only that reform allow us to continue our present state of existence, relative to the world at large, without aiming to actually effect any substantive structural reform.

After two post-war decades with the same headlines, and the same figures making headlines, it should be clear that no leader truly seeks structural reform. Then again, who among us really wants to be hamstrung by the laws and institutions propelling the rest of the civilized world? We would have to sacrifice our freedom to litter at will, to drive in the wrong direction, to smoke in public. We may even lose our entitlement to treat with disdain the foreign workers who build and clean our homes and streets because they work for salaries that we would never accept. This is what gives our country a unique charm that outsiders can only marvel at. Indeed, who needs real reform when you can have chaos and liberty that is only checked by the haphazard application of a law that you can get around with a little wasta?

Perhaps we should not express this notion too loudly lest we tip off those who will never understand how sublime our cycle of freewheeling really is under the surface of constant complaints and invective. So (in a lowered voice), if there is any lasting lesson in “Utterly Missing the Point”, let it be that we stop complaining, accept who we are and stick to the bare minimum. 

SAMI HALABI is EXECUTIVE’s
Economics & Policy editor

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Open to abuse

by David Segall
written by David Segall

The stench of mold in the dormitory was overpowering. A dozen bunk beds hugged the perimeter, lest one centimeter of potential sleeping space be wasted. Wooden planks served as mattresses for some of the men who called that barrack home.

This was not a prison or a housing complex in one of the world’s poorer regions. It was a company-built dormitory for Bangladeshi workers in the state of Qatar, the world’s wealthiest nation in terms of gross domestic product per capita. And it took only 15 minutes to get there from Doha’s breathtaking downtown.

Qatar aspires to be a global player in politics, business, education and sports. From the ubiquitous billboards of the Qatar Foundation touting Doha’s “Education City” — where Western universities are building high-tech campuses — to Qatar’s designation as host country for the 2022 FIFA World Cup, the ambition of this small nation is undeniable.

But not far from modern, cosmopolitan Qatar lurk the people upon whose backs the enterprise continues to be built: 1.2 million migrant workers, most from Southeast Asia, who outnumber Qatari citizens at least four to one. With the equivalent of at least $55 billion to $60 billion committed to World Cup-related construction projects, the number of migrants in the construction sector will only grow.

I recently visited Qatar on behalf of Human Rights Watch to document the conditions of migrant construction workers. The vast majority of workers we spoke with reported that employers confiscated their passports, making it difficult for some to leave the country or return home freely. Many said that their working conditions or salaries differed significantly from what they had agreed to before leaving their home countries. Many also reported having borrowed heavily to pay fees charged by recruiters in their countries of origin — Qatar, unlike the United Arab Emirates, does not require sponsoring employers to pay all fees associated with imported labor — and needing to work for months or years in Qatar just to pay off these debts. And many slept in unclean, overcrowded barracks, sometimes with no mattresses or air-conditioning, in a country where summer temperatures routinely exceed 40 degrees Celsius.

The Qatari government representatives who received the Human Rights Watch delegation cited domestic legislation as prohibiting practices like passport confiscation, overcrowded dorms and non-payment or delayed payment of salaries by employers, but generally would not acknowledge the pervasiveness of the violations. Despite serious instances of abuse, high-level officials at Qatar’s Ministry of Labor informed us that none of the 150 employees at the ministry’s labor inspections unit speak languages commonly used by the migrant workers. When we asked how the ministry could accurately monitor working conditions without staff members who could communicate directly with the workers, the officials informed us that they are able to monitor everything from working hours to payment problems through information garnered from the employers. The obvious consequence of this surprising lack of interest in obtaining information from the workers themselves is a disconnect between the ministry’s information and the realities of life for many workers.

Qatar also continues to maintain the “sponsorship system,” which prohibits workers from changing jobs without their sponsoring employer’s consent and requires workers to procure exit visas from their sponsors before they can leave the country. Trying to navigate the legal system to break the bond if their rights are abused is a terrifying or even impossible prospect for many workers, who fear losing their only source of income and often do not possess the language skills or financial means to pursue a case.

The root of the problem is a system that allows officials, employers and ordinary citizens to evade responsibility for abuses at every turn. Government officials point to laws on the books without enforcing them diligently. Employers claim that they treat their workers better than other employers treat theirs. And Qatari citizens sleep easy believing that these workers, despite low wages and vulnerability to abuse, earn more in Qatar than they would as farmers, craftsmen or menial workers in their countries of origin.

The Qatar Foundation’s billboards constantly remind us to “Think” in the service of “Unlocking Human Potential.” Qatar is employing much human and material capital to become a major force in global affairs, media and sports. If it deployed similar resources to improving the conditions of its migrant workers and promoting fair labor standards, it would become a regional leader in this realm too. It would set a commendable  example for the many neighboring countries that employ hundreds of thousands of migrant workers.

DAVID SEGALL is an associate for the Middle East and North Africa division at Human Rights Watch

 

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Abbas’ UN tour de force

by Ahmed Moor
written by Ahmed Moor

With one well-timed speech before the United Nations General Assembly, Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas focused global scorn on Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu while causing American President Barack Obama to undermine himself on the world stage. Equally importantly, Abbas partially resuscitated his reputation among Palestinians and regional powers, thus ratcheting up pressure on Hamas in Gaza.

The series of Arab uprisings changed Abbas’s relationships with the Americans, the Egyptians, the Israelis and others in different ways. But it also changed his relationship with his own people.

The waves of popular action against tyrannical regimes like the Palestinian Authority shocked Abbas into reaction. The PA’s heavy-handedness quickly stirred into action in much the same way as other security regimes throughout the region. Repressive, Mubarak-like tactics were quickly employed to quell small protests in the first part of the year, but these were only stopgap measures. Wilier than Mubarak, Abbas sought to win political approval for his leadership among disaffected Palestinians. It is still unclear whether he has succeeded, but his speech at the UN in September was met with approval by many, as the jubilant demonstrations on his return to Ramallah demonstrated.

In the zero-sum Palestinian political environment, his gains corresponded to Hamas’s loss. That loss has been compounded by Syria’s increased isolation (Syria is a patron of the Islamic movement). 

For the Israelis, too, the move could not have occurred at a worse time. Netanyahu’s abrasive personal style has combined with objectively poor decision-making to produce a nadir in the country’s relationship with European, Asian and Arab states. International opprobrium has jumped dramatically in recent years, catalyzed by events such as the 2009 assault on Gaza, which killed 1,400 Palestinians, 300 of whom were children, and the Israeli commando raid on the Mavi Marmara that left eight Turks and one American dead.

The marathon diplomatic battle that occurred in the run-up to Abbas’s UN submission saw the Israelis desperately lobby global capitals to follow the Netanyahu line. The unpalatability of the pro-occupation argument combined with residual ill will from the Gaza and flotilla assaults to produce a mammoth Israeli diplomatic failure at the UN. It is worth noting, however,that Netanyahu’s pugnacious speech at the international forum was positively received at home; barring some unforeseen event, he will likely remain in control in Israel. Obama was a bigger loser than his Israeli counterpart. While Netanyahu played up the threat of global isolation to corral domestic support, Obama found himself publicly vilified from both sides in his own country.

The presidential election season is in full swing in America, and Obama — whose approval rating is less than 50 percent — has been scrambling wildly to court the Israel lobby. It was with his own imminent electoral contest in mind that he entered the UN chambers. And it was with his own reelection in mind that he propounded the Israeli government’s talking points. But his placation strategy has not worked. Regardless of his pandering, Obama simply cannot convince the Israeli lobby that he is their man. His speech did little to change the common perception that he is weak on Israel.

On top of this, his speech worked to alienate important UN member states. France, for instance, was clearly alienated from the rightwing Zionist position. Without making a complete break from the American stance, Nicolas Sarkozy indicated that the status quo was untenable and that it was time to “change the method” of pursuing peace. Likewise, the Saudis have publicly pronounced their intent to break from US policies in the region if the Americans veto Palestinian attempts at official statehood status.

It is too early to assess the full impact of Palestine’s statehood bid, and many questions remain unanswered. Will the Israelis react meaningfully to increased global pressure and isolation? And could the Europeans edge America out to take a more forceful role in adjudicating the conflict?

What is clear is that the move is a catalyst for genuine change. For many Palestinians, this revision of the status quo will be welcome.

AHMED MOOR is a contributor to Al Jazeera English and is a Master in Public Policy
candidate at Harvard Universitys Kennedy School of Government

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Editorial

He who can bleed the most

by Yasser Akkaoui
written by Yasser Akkaoui

In different ways, both the Syrian people who are rising up against the regime of President Bashar al-Assad, as well as the regime itself, are pushing the limits of their own mortality.

Protests that began in March have spread across the country, but still they have not gathered the critical force necessary to topple the regime. The regime’s brutal attempts to suppress the demonstrations have sent the death toll multiplying into the thousands, and the numbers of arrested into the tens of thousands. For every protester martyred, the regime has bullets for 10 more; if this trajectory is maintained, the protest movement will literally die.

On the other hand, the government is watching the economy evaporate. Expenses have soared, with billions of dollars spent on populist subsidy programs, keeping the Syrian pound afloat and funding the massive deployment of army and militiamen, while revenue has precipitously fallen, with multiple billions lost in capital flight, in vanishing trade and taxes, and in tightening sanctions. When the EU embargo against purchasing Syrian oil exports hits next month, it will wipe away at least a quarter more of the government’s remaining revenue. Assad is losing the ability to fund his grip on power; if this trajectory is maintained, his regime will collapse.

As with all pivotal moments in history, it is often the events that were impossible to foretell — the so-called “black swans” — that irretrievably alter the outcome in one direction or the other.   

Barring blind luck swooping in for either side, however, this will remain a war of attrition, and the winner will be he who can bleed the most.

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Yemen’s incipient civil war

by Farea al-Muslimi
written by Farea al-Muslimi

The most horrifying week yet of the eight-month uprising in Yemen began on September 18. The terror and fear the people of Sanaa experienced was described by some as the worst since the civil war in 1994, with more than 80 civilians killed and hundreds more injured. In the areas surrounding Change Square — the heart of the protest movement against obstinate President Ali Abdullah Saleh — snipers fanned out on building tops, shooting randomly at sporadic intervals throughout the day and night. Those involved in the protests were shot, as were those who happened to live in the areas nearby. The sound of bombs exploding punctuated the muezzins’ call to prayers in Sanaa mosques, empty as never before. Those who failed to leave before the clashes intensified remained inside their homes for days, trying to survive with whatever supplies they had rather than risk venturing outside.

The clashes started when the protesters tried to enlarge the four-kilometer stretch they have occupied in Sanaa and expand to another nearby street. As protesters began to set up tents, security forces and Republican Guards opened fire. In less than an hour, more than 20 protesters had been killed. Later on, the First Armed Division, a powerful battalion of defected soldiers loyal to the uprising, returned fire. Fighting spread to the Al Hasba neighborhood, the stronghold of the powerful tribal leader Sadeq al-Ahmar. The neighborhood endured heavy clashes between Ahmar and Saleh’s forces only a few months ago; many homes remain abandoned after residents fled.

The tension in Sanaa ratcheted up a notch when Saleh made a sudden surprise return to the country on September 23, after three months in Saudi Arabia recovering from a bomb attack on the presidential palace mosque. Upon the announcement of Saleh’s arrival, celebratory gunfire from his supporters rang out around Sanaa, as demonstrators were being fired upon in Change Square.

Saleh still holds support from several different quarters.  He enjoys staunch military backing from the Republican Guards, which are led by his son, and similar support from the security forces led by his nephew, and neither lack firepower, in part due to American contributions intended to fight extremists like Al Qaeda. Then there are the corrupt network of stakeholders who will lose their patronage should Saleh go and the tribes who still support Saleh out of a historical enmity towards the Ahmars. But while pockets of support remain, Saleh’s majority lies in arms, not in popular sentiment. His return was a spark to the powder keg. His stubbornness amidst the chaos was a declaration of war. On September 26, while Yemen was celebrating its 49th anniversary of the 1962 revolution that overthrew the ruling Hamidaddin family, Saleh delivered a speech that for Yemenis contained nothing new. He reiterated his calls for dialogue and for an early presidential election, as he had disingenuously suggested on multiple occasions, while emphasizing that the vice president, not Saleh himself, sign the Gulf Cooperation Council initiative of a transfer of power.

The speech was seen by some as a stall tactic before all-out civil war, but it is not clear what the distinction between war and the current scenario is. It seems the line has already been crossed. Without an intensification of international pressure, particularly from within the GCC (Saudi Arabia’s hospitality and leeway in allowing Saleh to rally his supporters from the kingdom shows the tepid regional pressure on him), Saleh will lead Yemen to hell — indeed, it is already at the gates. But if so baited, the millions of Yemeni youth in the squares who have been demanding change peacefully could erupt like a volcano if their legitimate demands for the immediate departure of Saleh and his regime are not met.

Late last month, while Yemenis on the ground fought for the political future of their country, herds of NGO workers and embassy staff were lining up at Sanaa Airport with the very few Yemenis who can afford to leave the country. Yemen is among the most heavily armed countries on earth, with more than 68 million weapons — almost three arms for every man, woman and child. Yemenis have amazed the world over the last eight months with their peaceful protest. But their patience has run dry.

FAREA AL-MUSLIMI is a Yemeni activist
and writer for Almasdar
 

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The next pharaoh

by Josh Wood
written by Josh Wood

In Cairo these days, asking random people on the street about the shortcomings of the ruling military-led transitional government often elicits the same reactions that asking about former President Hosni Mubarak andvhis cronies did not too long ago: people tense up and their eyes dart around before they quickly excuse themselves.

Such reactions and paranoia are not completely unwarranted. As the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces, headed by Field Marshal MohammedTantawi, faces increasing dissent, it has cracked down on freedom of speech and freedom of the press. For Egyptians, speaking out against those in power is again a dangerous venture.

“The problem is not freedom of speech, but freedom after the speech,” says Hafez al-Mirazi, the former Washington bureau chief for Al Jazeera and currently the head of the Kamal Adham Center for Journalism Training and Research at the American University of Cairo. “So you can say what you want, but the problem is going to be the consequences of what you say.”

This proved the case for Maikel Nabil Sanad, a young Egyptian blogger who was sentenced to three years in prison for posting criticism online about the way the military council was running the country. According to rights groups, he began a hunger strike in August and even refused liquids before his health deteriorated and he was hospitalized.

In August, 26-year-old Asmaa Mahfouz was arrested for criticizing the council of military officers on Twitter and was only released on a $3,300 bail following international pressure.

Criticism of the new government on social networking sites in Egypt is rampant. Though it would be hard to imagine the government pursuing everybody who voices dissent online, these cases were designed to intimidate, to make others think twice before voicing their opinions.

After protesters stormed Israel’s embassy in Cairo on September 9 and clashed with security forces through the night, the government added new provisions to the country’s feared Emergency Law. It had previously committed to repeal the law. Under Mubarak, the Emergency Law — which has been in place continuously since the 1981 assassination of Anwar Sadat — was one of the regime’s key tools of repression. One item on the amended Emergency Law now bans the spreading of “false news, statements or rumors”, of which the government has thus far had a fairly liberal — or conservative, depending on one’s outlook — definition. Amnesty International has labeled the revamped Emergency Law as the “biggest threat to rights” in post-revolution Egypt.

Days after the Israeli embassy raid, Al Jazeera’s offices around Cairo were raided. Al Jazeera Arabic and English were allowed to remain open, but their Egyptian affiliate Al Jazeera Mubasher was shut down for a discrepancy in its paperwork. The government, which allowed new television stations to open in Egypt relatively freely after Mubarak’s fall, is now looking to keep cameras out. They have put a freeze on new satellite stations opening and halted live broadcasts of the Mubarak trial.

As Egypt moves towards eight months without Mubarak, the freedoms that millions demonstrated and fought for in Tahrir Square are being rescinded, in many cases using the same tactics employed by the old regime. Many Egyptians are still quick to stress that the country continues to be in the early stages of the post-Mubarak era and there is an optimism that the hangover will subside with time, and immediately after the revolution, Egypt did look like a new place. But now, if you turn your head away from the burned-out skeleton of the Nile-side National Democratic Party headquarters and the occasional Friday protests, there are many signs that point to the Egypt of old reasserting itself. Perhaps one of the most visible is the country’s state-run media outlets, Mubarak’s private cheering section and propaganda outlet when he was in power.

“Any time you look at the newspaper it’s very similar [to before the revolution]” says Mirazi. “You just replace Mubarak’s name with Field Marshal Tantawi.”

JOSH WOOD is a contributor for
The International Herald Tribune
and Esquire Magazine

 

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Follow the money

by Peter Grimsditch
written by Peter Grimsditch

It is a headline writer’s dream: “Ambassador expelled”; “Trade with Israel suspended”; “Prime Minister to visit Gaza”; “Turkish navy to patrol eastern Mediterranean”. The reality is much less Hollywood.

The Israeli ambassador to Turkey was not in the country anyway, conveniently and with “foresight” avoiding the embarrassment of television cameras capturing him skulking away. The trade suspension was rapidly qualified as government-to-government — a fraction of the $3 billion plus annual total. The Turkish navy is unlikely to provide the Israelis with another opportunity to demonstrate their military prowess with a 1967 Liberty-style attack. And Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s Gaza trip was always politically unrealistic, however much he personally may have wanted to go.

More significant than any of this is that private sector commercial relations between the two countries is growing, not declining. Never let rhetoric interfere with the sacred duty of making money. Even as Economy Minister Zafer Caglayan was solemnly declaring that trade ties with Israel were being downgraded to second secretary level, he was truthfully admitting that “there has not been much change in bilateral trade relations yet”. In short, if you want to know what is really going on in this world, follow the money. Verbal and political warfare between the two countries began with Erdogan’s walkout at the 2009 World Economic Forum in Davos and came to a head following the Israeli slaughter in May 2010 of eight Turks and an American of Turkish origin aboard an aid flotilla. Now check out the cash flow since then.

In the first half of this year, Israeli exports to Turkey shot up by 39 percent to $950 million. Trade in the opposite direction rose by 16 percent, to just more than $1 billion, and by the end of the year the two-way volume is expected to surpass $4 billion. Of course, there are sound reasons — on both sides — for wanting to maintain the exchanges.

Turkey has been suffering from the economic malaise in Europe, the main market for its exports, and suffered financial body blows from the uprisings in Libya and Syria. For its part, Israel was hurt by economic turmoil in the United States, its main customer.

Erdogan and Caglayan have both said Turkey’s quarrel is with the Israeli government, not individuals or businesses. Israeli Premier Benjamin Netanyahu was exporting his own complementary statement. The political crisis “is not our choice”, he said. “We respect the Turkish people and their heritage.” Not to mention their money. And their cheap holiday resorts.

The number of Israeli visitors to Turkey fell through the floor last year, dropping by around two thirds to 109,600. Tourists are not made of the same stern stuff as business people, and some Israelis took delight in flaunting figures to the northwest and pointing out how much they were hurting the Turkish tourist industry. That Turkey’s overall tourism numbers went up anyway, even given the missing Israelis, was not included in the gloating. Regardless, the Israelis are coming back. Perhaps encouraged by a favorable exchange rate as much as the facilities, the July and August figures rocketed from around 94,000 in 2010 to 166,000 this year, according to the Israeli Airports Authority. Tourism and trade operate on different dynamics of course. Tourist numbers can drop suddenly and build up again fairly quickly. Trade relations are established over a much longer period, and equally take a good while to wind down. Economic relations between Egypt and Israel had developed a rising momentum when Netanyahu became Israeli prime minister for the first time. It took just more than a year of his hardline policies before there were visible signs of decline.

In the longer term — and short of Middle East peace — Turkey is more important to Israel than the other way around. Erdogan’s relentless drive to enhance his country’s influence and strength took him to Egypt last month, where he forecast a rise in mutual trade to $10 billion over the next few years, as well as to Libya to restore the large and lucrative Turkish contracts that the revolution put in abeyance. Then there is always the US. Francisco Sanchez, the undersecretary of state for trade and commerce, said in Ankara last month the US aimed to triple trade with Turkey over the next five to six years. That would make it worth $45 billion, dwarfing the figure with Israel. And, after all, why deal with the monkey when you can trade with the organ grinder?

PETER GRIMSDITCH is Executive’s
Turkey correspondent

 

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Deference versus diversity in the Gulf

by Paul Cochrane
written by Paul Cochrane

Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries have long struggled with implementing nationalization employment policies (NEPs) to bring more GCC citizens into the workplace, offset reliance on expatriate labor and diversify their oil-dependent economies. The track record has been mixed — fairly good at getting citizens into the government sector but pretty hopeless at the private sector level.

In the United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia, nationals account for around 80 percent of the public sector workforce, in Kuwait around 90 percent and in Qatar 94 percent, although some of these statistics are questionable. In 2009 for instance, Sheikh Mohammed bin-Rashid, vice presidentof the UAE, admitted that Emiratization levels “did not exceed 54 percent in ministries and 25 percent in federal authorities.”

In the private sector, Emiratis account for less than 1 percent of the workforce of the UAE, in Kuwait and Qatar around 5 percent and in Saudi Arabia 13.3 percent, according to government statistics.

While NEPs have been in place for decades, most GCC governments appear to be working hard to ensure such policies do not succeed outside the public sector. The most effective way they have done so is by raising public sector salaries to ridiculous levels. Last year, the UAE gave federal government employees a 70 percent wage increase. In September, Qatar announced it would raise government employees’ wages by 60 percent and give military officers a 120 percent salary, pension and benefits hike. What incentive does this give to young Emiratis and Qataris to become, say, entrepreneurs or scientists when a cushy job for life can be had with the government?

Instead such moves create greater dependency on the state, a useful weapon to defuse political opposition and give the impression of greater distribution of oil wealth among nationals. Yet such ruler-subject dependency is not sustainable. It is creating divisiveness between nationals and expatriates, causing social malaise and stifling the potential of the Gulf people.

Such policies also throw into question the motivation behind spending billions of dollars on educational facilities and programs if citizens’ only incentive to study is to get into the public sector. Take Qatar’s Vision 2030 and the National Development Strategy 2011-2016, which mapped out the development of both a knowledge-based and free economy. One of the lofty aims of the multi-billion dollar, state-endowed Qatar Foundation is to make these plans a reality, but this is dependent on young Qataris entering the private sector and not opting to join the military and civil service instead. (Women, on the other hand, account for 77 percent of Qatar University’s student body, which bodes well for the future.)

So how is diversification going to occur and nationalization targets be met against such seemingly great odds? Is the answer to give passports to foreign professionals and experts, as has happened with 11 players on the Qatar national football team? (When I asked one Qatari if his countrymen were proud of their team after Qatar won the bid to host the 2022 World Cup, he replied: “What team?”)

While the UAE and Qatar are scoring own goals against their private sector NEPs, Saudi Arabia is taking its Saudi-ization policy more seriously, introducing this year the Nitaqat plan to find employment for 1.12 million Saudis by 2014. But through its complex quota categories — 205 of them in all — even the labor ministry has admitted that up to 40 percent of private companies will fail to employ enough Saudis and could “cease to exist.”

There appears to be no easy way of encouraging NEPs in the private sector, either beset by onerous requirements or countered by the government placating subjects through high-paying state jobs. A balance needs to be found. The hard truth, though, is that the GCC countries need to accept that introducing viable NEPs that put the private sector ahead or on par with the public sector as an attractive employment option for nationals will eventually bring about a different relationship between the state and the people. It would mean greater governmental accountability; a step that could be viewed by the rulers as one too far. But the status quo cannot continue forever, as major socio-political problems inevitably crash the party. Leaders of certain other Arab countries have recently learnt this the hard way.

PAUL COCHRANE is the Middle East
correspondent for International News Services

 

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Nuclear negotiations from fusion to fission

by Gareth Smith
written by Gareth Smith

In the fall of 2004 I went twice to the Supreme Council for National Security in Tehran for long interviews with Hossein Mousavian, a senior negotiator in talks with Britain, France and Germany over Iran’s nuclear program. The transcripts make sharp reading seven years later, for two reasons. Firstly, leading Iranian diplomats or security officials no longer seem to give such access.

Secondly, the interviews recall a diplomatic process during which Iran suspended uranium enrichment as a “goodwill gesture” to help talks with Western powers. The Iranian negotiators were led by Hassan Rouhani, a pragmatic if dour cleric who, as a colleague told me, “understands we’ve suffered too long from ideologies, and that Iran should instead pursue its national interest.”

A whiff of compromise hung in the air. A European diplomat said the Mousavian interviews offered “real insight into the mind of the Iranian negotiators” and another insisted Europe would at some stage relax its demand for Iran to cease enrichment for good.

One point Mousavian made to me was that the Iranians felt domestic pressure from critics of the talks. Hossein Shariatmadari, editor of Kayhan newspaper, argued that Iran should leave the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT). Ali Larijani, now parliamentary speaker, quipped Iran would be swapping “candy for a pearl” if it took economic aid in return for ending enrichment.

Some Europeans scoffed at the idea the Iranian negotiators were under pressure. One diplomat, who happened to be close to Washington, said this was a tactic cooked up by the Iranian team.

And yet, there were indications, going back to the 2003 offer of a “grand bargain”, that Iran’s leaders were ready for a deal in which they would accept, for a set period, limits on enrichment as well as intrusive inspections by the United Nation’s International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA).

Such a compromise would give, Iran suggested, the “objective guarantees” the Europeans wanted of Iran’s peaceful intentions while recognizing its right to enrich as an NPT signatory.

Times have changed. Following his 2005 presidential election win, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad raised the nuclear program from state policy into a popular campaign. Enrichment was resumed and expanded, and sanctions have been strengthened. Barack Obama won the United States 2008 election promising “engagement” but, restrained by the US right and Israel, this has amounted to a few cursory meetings.

The latest IAEA report, out in September, finds Iran now has 4,534 kilograms of uranium enriched to around 5 percent (low-enriched uranium,or LEU) and 70.8 kg enriched to 20 percent.

That is far more than Iran had in 2004. It is also more than it had last year when it agreed with Turkey and Brazil to export the bulk of its LEU in return for 20 percent-enriched uranium, which is used for medical treatment, especially of cancer patients. Yet the US torpedoed theTurkey-Brazil deal, and Iran began enriching to 20 percent itself.

And so the show moves on. In August, Fereydun Abbasi-Davani, head of the Atomic Energy Organization, said Iran would no longer consider a fuel swap.

Iran is edging nearer to being able to enrich to 95 percent for a bomb, if it should choose to do so. Yet, the issue is political and not technical: any country that can enrich uranium can make a weapon. As Mousavian said in 2004, “Iran already has the capability… we have the minds.”

This summer Mousavian, now at Princeton University, published a wide-ranging piece, ‘Rules for Successful Engagement with Iran’, examining the state of diplomacy on the New Atlanticist blog. He suggested the Obama administration had continued the Bush policy of “ratcheting up pressure through new sanctions, hinting at a readiness to take military action and supporting covert sabotage of Iran’s nuclear program.” Threats and sanctions, he wrote, limited Iranian officials’ room for maneuver, just as Ahmadinejad’s rhetoric had “increased tremendously the political cost to American politicians of being seen as soft on Iran”.

Mousavian conceded engagement was “risky” for both camps and required “bravery and wisdom in Washington and Tehran”. But, the alternative he wrote was “the same escalation of the confrontation”. He seemed far from optimistic.

GARETH SMYTH has reported from around the Middle East for almost two decades and was formerly the Financial Times correspondent in Tehran

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Commemoration and conformity

by Peter Speetjens
written by Peter Speetjens

Perhaps, if on another planet, one may have missed the 10-year anniversary of the day when September 11 became “9/11”. Virtually every self-respecting media outlet in the world dedicated time and space to the terrorist attack which, among other things, saw two planes torpedo New York’s Twin Towers. Television channels repeated the explosion again and again last month. Newspapers created special supplements and magazines filled entire issues with stories of the victims, their families, firemen, witnesses and just about anyone remotely connected to the dreadful event. For people not anywhere near the scene when it happened, no problem, there was always the “where were you when” question. The American media in particular went overboard, which is to some extent understandable, given the event took place on American soil. Worldwide, 9/11 also resonated, as it unfolded live on TV for a global audience of hundreds of millions — one reason the late German composer Karlheinz Stockhausen defined 9/11 as “the greatest work of art… ever”.

Still, while the West likes to pat itself on the back for its intrepid free press, the conformity of its coverage was striking. It was, by and large, an emotional affair with few critical questions asked. Only a heartless fool would not feel for the nearly 3,000 victims and their families, or take exception to a moment of silence. But do we need to watch and read the same thing in English, French, Arabic and God knows how many languages? What is more, is the wave of media attention justifiable, considering the millions of people who were killed over the course of history, yet for whom no tears are shed and no flags are waved? Why is there no global wave of compassion for the victims of “the other 9/11” in 1973? On that day, General Augusto Pinochet took power in Chile, with US blessing. Many more than 3,000 people were killed on that 9/11, while some 20,000 were to be shown their graves in the months following and a million forced into exile. Why does the rest of the world not commemorate the 800,000 Tutsis killed in Rwanda during the 100 days of horror, or the 2.5 million people killed by the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia? The book of mass atrocities has many chapters, with much of human history written in blood.

Commemoration, however, is not just about compassion. The ritual in memory of the martyr is also a means to close the ranks and stand as one. It is about reconfirming the collective identity, an act particularly welcome in the US, a country that seems to grow more divided by the day as it goes through one of the worst economic spells in its history.

On such a solemn moment of unity, it is not befitting to raise critical questions. Doing so is to step out of line and out of the group; one essentially declares oneself an outcast. That is what happened to New York Times (NYT) columnist Paul Krugman. In a welcome variation to the general mode of tear jerking, he wrote in a piece called “The Years of Shame” that “fake heroes like Bernie Kerik, Rudy Giuliani, and, yes, George W. Bush raced to cash in on the horror… [while] the attack was used to justify an unrelated war the neocons wanted to fight, for all the wrong reasons. How many of our professional pundits took the easy way out, turning a blind eye to the corruption and lending their support to the hijacking of the atrocity?”

Conservative America crucified Krugman. Former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, one of the Iraq War’s main architects, tweeted: “After reading Krugman’s repugnant piece on 9/11, I canceled my subscription to the NYT.” Waging a war on false grounds was not the only consequence of 9/11. What about Guantanamo Bay, the Patriot Act and the rendition of terrorism suspects to countries like Egypt, Jordan and Syria? In the name of the victims of 9/11, are these not the questions that should be asked? The media’s, and society’s, widespread abdication from its responsibility to address these controversial issues is no show of reverence for those who were killed, quite the opposite; it dehumanizes them, reducing them to objects fit only to be mourned, rather than remembered as living, feeling, thinking individuals — many of whom, had they survived, may well be asking these questions themselves. 

PETER SPEETJENS is a
Beirut-based journalist

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