The Gulf monarchies have been particularly skilled at grafting seemingly modern political institutions onto essentially traditional powerbases. Over the past few decades a plethora of ministries, government departments, and other authorities have been created as the size of the state has grown. In some cases consultative councils and even parliaments have even been set up. But for the most part these have remained extremely limited, often being dominated by staff or members who have been autocratically appointed, and with the institutions they represent enjoying only limited powers compared to those of the ruling families. They have nevertheless provided a veneer of credibility and modernity for the regimes, not just to appease international critics, but also for domestic consumption. And as Hisham Sharabi argued in his 1992 study, Neopatriarchy: A Theory of Distorted Change in Arab Society, such strategies have allowed regimes to move away from a total reliance on inherited patriarchal authority to a system in which it can be re-introduced and maintained in an apparently modern state.31
These strategies can also be connected back to Max Weber’s original tripartite classification of authority, first presented in his 1919 lecture ‘Politics as a Vocation’. Weber argued that polities would eventually mature from relying on the charismatic, authority of one patriarch and his family, to regimes based on traditional, often feudal authority, before finally progressing to states governed by legal-rational authority where powers were vested in offices rather than office-holders and where the rule of law could be upheld by an independent judiciary.32 In this light, the hybrid, ‘neo-patriarchal’ governments that have emerged in the Gulf seem to have allowed the monarchies to arrest or stall Weber’s process somewhere between the second and third stages, while also continuing to rely on the initial stage of authority. Writing in 2002, Daniel Brumberg makes a direct connection between such neo-patriarchy and the Gulf monarchies in his article ‘The Trap of Liberalized Autocracy’. On discussing Kuwait, which unlike its neighbours had long been experimenting with an elected parliament, he contended that ‘…the mixtures of guided pluralism, controlled elections, and selective repression… is not just a survival strategy… but rather a type of political system whose institutions, rules, and logic defy any linear model of democratisation’.33 And of Bahrain and Qatar, which at that time had not yet followed Kuwait’s lead, he argued that ‘…political eclecticism has benefits that rulers are unlikely to forgo’ and predicted, with uncanny accuracy, that these regimes ‘…would soon join the ranks of Arab states dwelling in the gray zone of liberalised autocracy’.34
Linking together all of these political economy and political culture explanations, and perhaps providing the best all-round understanding of the resilience of traditional monarchy have been the various attempts to describe the multi-dimensional, socio-economic contracts that seemingly exist between the Gulf’s ruling families and their citizens. First applied in the European context, most notably by British and French writers in the seventeenth and eighteenth century, the concept of a ‘social contract’ was used as an intellectual device to explain the most appropriate relationship between governments and individual citizens. Although Hobbes advocated absolute monarchy as the ideal form of authority, while Locke and Rousseau advocated ‘natural rights’ and the need for collective sovereignty in the name of the ‘general will’ of the people, all three were nonetheless agreed on the need for governments to forge agreements with their citizens by guaranteeing certain privileges and protection in exchange for political consent.35 Best applied to the Middle East context by Mehran Kamrava in The Modern Middle East: A Political History since the First World War, first published in 2005, the Hobbesian social contract is rebranded a ‘ruling bargain’ for the Arab world, where people choose to remain politically acquiescent in return for sufficient stability and services from their governments.36
Writing in 2008 and 2009 in Dubai: The Vulnerability of Success and Abu Dhabi: Oil and Beyond, I examined two different constituent emirates of the UAE—one scarce in oil wealth and one abundant—through the prism of Kamrava’s ruling bargain. Although arguing that government-led distribution of rentier wealth and opportunities to its citizens was an important source of legitimacy for rulers, I contended that there were several other, non-economic sources of legitimacy for the UAE’s rulers, including cults of personality, tribal heritage, religion, and seemingly modern government institutions. In fact, both books described many of the other sources that a revised modernisation or neo-patriarchy approach would expect to identify. By revealing the full spectrum of legitimacy sources available, it was also demonstrated that each Gulf monarchy’s ruling bargain will differ, depending on its unique socio-economic or historical circumstances. In some, especially those with high economic resources and small populations, it was reasoned that distributed wealth would remain the chief pillar of the system, while in others non-economic legitimacy sources would take precedence. And in those monarchies with rapidly declining or improving economic resources, a certain dynamism would likely be observed, as the relative weighting of the different legitimacy sources would be modified in order to reflect the changing reality and maintain the regimes’ resilience. Nevertheless in all cases it was emphasised that the Gulf monarchies’ governments, even the poorest, have to keep up the appearance of being distributors of wealth rather than extractors in order for their ruling bargains to function.37 Moreover, as others have argued, any attempt to collect income tax would significantly undermine the mutual consent that underpins the social contracts.38
In these earlier books I also stressed the centrality of citizenship and the promotion of national identity in the Gulf monarchies’ ruling bargains, as many of the services and privileges associated with citizenship can only really be sustained if the national populations remain distinct, aloof, and in some cases compact. Often ignored, or in some cases misrepresented as a threat rather than as an opportunity for regimes of the region, the role of the millions of expatriates who work in the Persian Gulf—and who now make up the majority of residents in all of the Gulf monarchies’ major cities—was also discussed. Both books argued that as long as their remuneration and other benefits remained higher than in their country of origin, and as long as regimes kept blocking any path to naturalisation, then expatriates would remain mere labour migrants: primarily interested in safe and stable short-term wealth creation before eventually returning home. Thus, they would have no interest in altering the domestic political status quo, and if anything the more influential, wealthy, and skilled expatriates in the Gulf monarchies would become another important supportive or at least silent constituency of the traditional monarchies.39
Further explanations
Two other explanations for the survival of Gulf monarchies—and more broadly the survival of monarchy in the Arab world—have circulated over the past fifteen years. Both have been popular and thus also warrant attention. But given that they have often downplayed economic factors and have focused primarily on distinct historical, cultural, or familial circumstances associated with the Arab world that are now rapidly changing, it is likely they will soon fall out of favour. The most nuanced and sophisticated of these further explanations is that monarchical resilience is mostly due to the internal strength of the ruling families themselves. Published in 1999, Michael Herb’s All in the Family: Absolutism, Revolution, and Democracy in the Middle Eastern Monarchies argued that the evolution of collective action mechanisms and ‘bandwagoning’ techniques within the contemporary ruling families have reduced some of the divisiveness and factionalism which historically plagued the region’s monarchies for much of the last century.
In Herb’s terms the result has been the emergence of ‘dynastic monarchies’, especially in the Persian Gulf. These dynasties, as they continue to expand with an ever-growing number of junior princes and sheikhs, have in some cases become self-regulating proto-institutions,40 perhaps providing some of the strength and stability normally associated with large-scale single-party political systems, such as
those in East Asia. Certainly, as the Gulf monarchies’ oil-rich economies have boomed and state functions expanded, more high profile business and governmental positions have been created, and the most prudent Arab monarchs have distributed these as ‘consolation prizes’ to powerful members of their extended families. In this scenario, it is reasoned, any renegade family member will find it difficult to destabilise the monarchy or launch a coup d’état, as most relatives will side with the established authority, preferring not to lose their prominent places within the regime. Backed by case studies from across the region, Herb demonstrated that the more resilient monarchies such as Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and the UAE had followed these strategies very closely, while other, swiftly deposed, monarchs such as Libya’s king41 had failed to do so.42
But given the survival of other, non-dynastic traditional monarchies, most notably Oman—whose ruler43 has strongly resisted such powersharing measures44—and the dynastic monarchy explanation’s lack of emphasis on wealth distribution and social contracts, does it really explain regime longevity? Moreover, the ultimately unsuccessful attempts in Arab republics to implement Gulf-style dynastic rule for themselves also seem to undermine the explanation.45 After all, Iraq’s Saddam Hussein, Egypt’s Hosni Mubarak, Syria’s Hafez Al-Assad, and Libya’s Muammar Gaddafi all sought to position their sons as successors while placating other relatives with important regime posts. But, as the events of 2011 and 2012 have demonstrated, even these ‘monarchical presidencies’ or jamlaka have proven to be very brittle.46
The second alternative explanation is much less convincing, although it is still regularly advanced by spokesmen for the Gulf monarchies to explain the latter’s continuing lack of meaningful reform. Based on vague notions that international concepts of pluralism and political freedom are inimical to the region, regime mouthpieces usually claim that democracy just won’t work, due to special characteristics, or khususiyya, such as tribal heritage and religious beliefs. Or they simply state that their countries are too young and thus ‘not ready’ for such changes. In this manner the Gulf monarchies have usually portrayed themselves as exceptions, thereby encouraging a ‘re-orientalisation’ of the region in the eyes of their observers, critics, and even their own citizens.
Before 2011, when attempts at political reforms or the staging of elections within other authoritarian Middle East states often failed, the most autocratic of the Gulf monarchies were usually quick to alert their populations to the dangers of democracy and the fundamental incompatibility of such systems with the supposed anthropological reality of the Arabian Peninsula. Given its proximity, Iran’s various flawed elections and the resulting violence have been useful examples, but even easier to exploit have been Kuwait’s troubled experiences with democracy. As the only Gulf monarchy which has a functioning, although very limited parliament, Kuwait’s system has long been distrusted by its monarchical neighbours, and the many problems it has faced have often been used to justify autocracy elsewhere in the region and warn against the perils of representative government. Such warnings have usually appeared as commentary pieces in the state-backed media, or even in official governmental statements and speeches. Following an especially problematic period in Kuwaiti politics in April 2010, Dubai’s ruler and the UAE’s unelected prime minister47 stated to the media that ‘Our leadership does not import ready-made models that may be valid for other societies but are certainly not suitable for our society’.48 Speaking in December 2011 in an interview with CNN he repeated his argument by stating that ‘we have our own democracy; you cannot transport your democracy to us’.49
Closely connected to this re-orientalisation explanation, the Gulf monarchies have similarly cautioned that if democracy was to be implanted in the region then certain unsavoury groups—the usual suspects being Islamic fundamentalists—would seize power. In recent years, and especially since 9/11 and subsequent terror threats, this has been a fairly convincing justification of autocratic power, not only for citizens, but also for the international community and above all the United States. In this sense, the Gulf monarchies have been following much the same line as the collapsing Arab republics, which, according to Jean-Pierre Filiu’s The Arab Revolution: Ten Lessons from the Democratic Uprising, published in 2011, sought to ‘spread the idea that the state’s mission is to defend the supposedly unified nature of the state and the Islamic community’.50 Abu Dhabi’s crown prince51 provides a good insight into the strategy, having been recorded in a 2006 US diplomatic cable referencing a meeting with US diplomats as stating that ‘if there were an election [in the UAE] tomorrow, the Muslim Brotherhood would take over’.52
As much of this book demonstrates, it is unlikely that such justifications will remain effective for much longer, especially if the Gulf monarchies end up being bordered by post-Arab Spring states that hold successful elections and carefully integrate Islamic parties into the democratic process. Even prior to 2011 some Gulf nationals had begun to speak out on this issue, with a Saudi intellectual53 claiming in 2010 that the autocratic Gulf monarchies would always seek to brand the strongest opposition force, whether made up of Islamists or others, as an obstacle to progress. Moreover, he stated that if Saudi Arabia had held elections forty years ago then the fear-mongering would have focused on ‘socialists and leftists… since that was predominant then. Now it’s the Islamists… democracy cannot impose results that it wants. That’s another form of dictatorship’. Similarly, writing in 2010 on the UAE’s stance, a since imprisoned blogger54 argued that ‘Kuwait is an enlightening example in the region and it should stay glowing despite the pressure that anti-democracy governments exert on it’.55
Nevertheless, up until 2011 the commentarial and scholarly consensus on the Gulf monarchies, and the Arab world more broadly, subscribed heavily to both the need for re-orientalising the region and an appreciation of the dangers posed by Islamists and opposition groups via the democratic process. Published in 2010, Morten Valbjørn and André Bank’s article ‘Examining the Post in Post-Democratization: The Future of Middle Eastern Political Rule through Lenses of the Past’ serves as a particularly good example. Valbjǿrn and Bank discuss Huntington’s predicted ‘Third Wave of Democratisation’ and how it seemed to peter out in the 1990s, having impacted only on Eastern Europe, Latin America, and parts of Africa, without really reaching the Middle East. They then demonstrate that much of the subsequent literature on Arab politics either ignored the possibility of democracy in the Middle East, or wrote it off as a result of an ‘inherently undemocratic Islamic culture’ and the region being ‘eternally out of step with history’.56 As the latter parts of this book will demonstrate, for many years this has been a convenient but badly flawed explanatory device for swathes of the academic and diplomatic community, especially when it comes to discussing the Gulf monarchies.
1
STATE FORMATION AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT
Five of the Gulf monarchies only came into existence, at least as independent states, in the twentieth century, with Saudi Arabia being forged from a powerful hinterland alliance of religious and tribal forces, and with Kuwait and the smaller sheikhdoms emerging from the protection of the British Empire. The Sultanate of Oman, once a modest trading empire with territories stretching from East Africa to South Asia, has a much longer history but nonetheless also one heavily influenced by foreign powers, religion, and tribal politics.
These early interactions with outside forces, especially Britain, were incredibly significant in the shaping of the Gulf monarchies’ political and economic structures, many of which remain in place today and were prototypes of the contemporary rentier state. The period of state formation and independence also matters, as the new governing institutions set up at this time were often along the described neo-patriarchal lines. In parallel, the remarkable economic development trajectories of the six states deserve much attention. Especially the fast growth of their oil and gas industries, the emergence of sizeable sovereign wealth funds, and the more recent effor
ts to diversify their economic bases by establishing manufacturing sectors, export-processing zones, tourism industries, financial hubs, and even real estate markets. Unsurprisingly this has led the Gulf monarchies to pursue a number of different paths, often as a result of varying levels of resources and diverging economic realities.
Origins of the Gulf monarchies
In 1744 an historic pact was made in the interior of the Arabian Peninsula between a powerful tribe from the province of Najd—led by Muhammad bin Saud—and the followers of the influential preacher, Muhammad bin Abd Al-Wahhab. Preaching a more purified brand of Islam—a doctrine of pure monotheism and a return to the fundamental tenets of Islam as laid down by the Koran—the Wahhabis were Unitarians, emphasising the ‘centrality of God’s unqualified oneness in Sunni Islam’.1 Seeking to renew the Prophet’s golden era of Islam, all who stood in their way were to be swept aside, including Islamic rulers with ‘impure’ lives, and especially those that collaborated with foreign, non-Islamic powers such as Britain. Ultimately led by the Al-Saud dynasty following Al-Wahhab’s death, they had become a ‘religio-military confederacy under which the desert people, stirred by a great idea, embarked on a common action’,2 and sought constant expansion in the manner of the original Islamic concept of dar al-harb or ‘territory of war’—referring to the conquering of non-Islamic lands.3 Although defeated by an Ottoman-backed Egyptian force in the early nineteenth century,4 the Saudi-Wahhabi alliance soon returned to power, controlling even more of central Arabia by the end of the century.5
After the Sheikhs Page 3
