Jordan's King Abdullah Has Failed To Grasp The Power Of The Arab Spring

While protests have been muted, opposition is growing – and is more nuanced than the monarchy or its western backers realise.

By Julien Barnes-Dacey

Since King Abdullah's initial enthusiasm for reform, 'movement has slowed, and talk of a meaningful parliamentary democracy all but disappeared'. Photograph: EPA

Jordan's government has proposed a new election law that has dealt a further blow to those hoping for meaningful reform in the Hashemite kingdom. The law, which severely limits the number of seats that opposition parties can hold in parliament, was this week supplemented by a proposed ban on political parties established on a religious basis.

Both moves represent a direct assault on the Islamic Action Front (IAF), the political arm of the Muslim Brotherhood and the country's leading political party, which would be likely to gain power in any free and fair election. Coming on the back of the recent detention of 13 youth activists (since pardoned) on charges of insulting the king, the measures have highlighted the kingdom's dwindling reform ambitions.

When unrest first hit north Africa, King Abdullah was one of the first Arab rulers to pre-emptively embrace the mantra of reform, establishing an independent election body and a constitutional court. He also hinted at a willingness to empower the long-neutered parliament and weaken his own powers, which give him the right to appoint and dismiss governments.

Since this initial burst, however, movement has slowed, and talk of a meaningful parliamentary democracy has all but disappeared. While the Jordanian parliament is the author of the new restrictive measures, there are few who doubt the king's controlling hand over the wider political process. With violent instability growing on its northern border and more than 95,000 Syrians already seeking refuge in the country, the brakes are likely to be applied more firmly than ever.

Despite the slow pace of reform, the west continues to embrace the king's self-proclaimed reforming instincts, largely due to his continuing willingness to assist in the fight against extremism. Europe recently offered Jordan enhanced financial and trade assistance, despite the fact that Freedom House rates the country as "not free" compared to "partly free" when Abdullah first came to power in 1999.

However, as regional plates shift, the king and his western backers may be misjudging the challenges ahead. While Abdullah maintains popular legitimacy and faces no immediate threat of revolutionary upheaval, tremors of unrest are growing. Pointedly, the introduction of hollow legislation disguised as reform, restrictions on the IAF and the detention of protesters are precisely steps that will antagonise the environment, potentially serving to spark new tensions.

While incomparable to the protests that have swept north Africa and Syria, demonstrations have been happening across Jordan for more than a year now. Though often small in number – ranging from a few hundred to more than 10,000 – the discontent represents an unprecedented challenge to the status quo. For the most part the regime has refrained from forcefully pushing back against protesters but periodic clashes threaten to break the calm.

Moreover, the emerging opposition is multi-faceted, presenting the king with a more complex challenge than he has ever faced. Although driven by economic discontent, with unemployment potentially as high as 30%, it is increasingly political.

On the one side the traditional opposition – represented by the Muslim Brotherhood's political arm – is demanding greater power, notably the right of parliamentary majorities to appoint empowered governments in place of the king.

But the opposition also includes elements from within the regime's traditional support base, indigenous East Bank tribes, who are bitter about their dwindling share of the state pie in the face of a decade of privatisations and cuts in public spending, and see reform as the best way of asserting their rights.

Taken together, and though disunited in their goals (East Bankers fear extensive liberalisation will challenge their interests), the two groups represent a powerful force. With the country also broke and heavily dependent on foreign aid, the king has little wiggle room.

For the moment the opposition calls for reform rather than regime change, but the signs are becoming clear that Abdullah has failed to understand the new pressures unleashed by the Arab awakening. Following the recent measures the IAF is now threatening to boycott upcoming elections – a move that would further delegitimise the political system, threatening new uncertainties.

At a time of growing regional instability, the king, encouraged by his western backers who offer such important economic and political support, should be making meaningful engagement on the reform question a much greater priority than suggested by recent steps.

-This commentary was published in The Guardian on 19/04/2012
- Julien Barnes-Dacey is a senior Middle East policy fellow at the European Council on Foreign Relations

Moscow Mixes Profit With Principle In Syria

By Stephen Blank

 Pro-Assad Syrians wave Russian and Syrian flags during FM Sergei Lavrov's visit (Source: telegraph.co.uk)

To hear Moscow tell it, Russia’s aims in Syria are only motivated by principle. It opposes the use of ambiguous UN resolutions to permit intervention to forcibly democratize a country, an outcome that it believes invariably leads to protracted war. Russia is also against forcing out Bashar al-Assad. Moscow fears he will be replaced by a Sunni Arab regime that may then become a terrorist Islamist regime. As a result, Russian officials and many leading Russian experts invariably repeat these points in their public presentations (Interfax, March 30; Rossiya 24, March 19). But, behind the headlines and official meetings, the truth is rather more prosaic. It is quite clear that Moscow opposes any autonomous democratic politics whether it occurs in Libya, Syria or closer to home. Moscow fears that such examples will reverberate throughout Russia and the CIS as they did in the previous presidential election. In addition, Russia certainly opposes any extension of US or NATO power into the Middle East regardless of the outcome. Moreover, realizing that NATO shows no sign of intervening, Russia also now sees opportunities to grab economic and political advantages for itself and is not afraid to show force in its support for the Assad regime.

This is not merely a question of continuing to sell weapons as it is continuing to do. Once again, Moscow has shown its intention to deploy naval warships to the Syrian coast on a permanent basis (RIA Novosti, April 13). Earlier deployments in December 2011 were temporary, but now that Moscow realizes NATO will not intervene it feels it can pretend to show force to deter NATO in the belief that this will win it Syrian support and show that it stands behind its allies. Previously, Moscow said that its special forces ship Ekvator was deployed merely to observe developments, but it now seems like this will be a more permanent deployment (Nezavisimaya Gazeta Online, March 22).

In first trying to force Syria’s opposition to disarm and now to support the Annan plan of former UN Secretary General Kofi Annan – while Assad’s forces continue to shell and attack them – also indicates that Moscow has doubled down on its support for Assad. Clearly Russia’s support for the Annan plan, even as the Syrian government openly violates it, demonstrates Moscow’s attempt to impose that solution rather than leave the door open to the possibility of future foreign intervention by NATO or other states. Believing that its intransigence has been rewarded since NATO will probably not intervene and the rebels are disorganized and outgunned, Foreign Minister Lavrov has taken the diplomatic offensive. In numerous statements, he has denounced the US Friends of Syria initiative as being unilateral. The Russian Foreign Minister has repeatedly insisted that Assad has the support of Syria’s majority and that his latest actions somehow indicate reforms. Finally, Lavrov has stated that there is no alternative to the UN – where Russia can block any action, even resolutions condemning mass murder, thanks to Moscow’s veto-wielding permanent Security Council seat (Interfax, April 2; mid.ru, April 2; Interfax, March 20, 23, 24).

Russia’s adamantine stance on Syria is cloaked in the rhetoric of vital interests, international law, basic foreign policy principles and defense against terrorism. In actuality, however, it reflects Vladimir Putin’s contempt for the West and Moscow’s perception of its irresolution. Furthermore, it also reflects the Russian leadership’s abiding fear that the Arab Spring will eventually come to the CIS if not Russia. And the government in Moscow may not be able to so indiscriminately shoot its own people as has Assad. Despite warnings to the contrary, there has been no mass repression of the opposition to Putin since his re-election, a sign of his confidence in his present status, but also of the overall uncertainty of the situation.

But perhaps the most cynical aspect of Russian policy here – beyond its hypocrisy, invocation of the old colonialist tactic of gunboat diplomacy, and open contempt for Sunni Arab states like Saudi Arabia and Qatar who strongly oppose Assad’s rampages – is its shameless quest for material gain out of this crisis. Thus on March 17, Mohammad al-Kishto, Chairman of the Federation of Syrian Chambers of Commerce, announced that Gazprom would take over the Croatian energy company Ina’s oil and gas fields in Syria worth billions of dollars. This allows Syria to claim that it has not been hurt by the departure of foreign oil and gas firms because of the availability of Russian competition (Vecerniji.hr, March 17). More to the point, these oil and gas fields are undoubtedly the price exacted by Moscow for its services rendered to Damascus. Indeed this second example of neo-colonialist takeover should hardly surprise anyone who closely follows Putin’s polices. In his Question and Answer session with the State Duma on April 11, the outgoing Russian Prime Minister asserted that Moscow has invested repeatedly in the Middle East not out of any ideological solidarity with them but in order to make money and advance its interests (premier.gov.ru, April 11). Clearly, in this case Moscow charged a price for its support of Damascus and it has now been paid.

The cynicism of this policy may shock many in the West, but it should not shock anyone who knows the mentality of the Russian elite. As Charles de Gaulle observed, states are “cold monsters.” Putin’s Russia is, however, rather colder than many others, and at the same time more frightened by the prospect of autonomous public participation in politics. After all, Sergei Lavrov in 2007 told the Financial Times that democracy is a “bardak” (a particularly slovenly and disorderly brothel) (Financial Times, April 18, 2007). Given that outlook, are today’s policies truly a surprise to observers of the Russian elite?

-This commentary was published in Eurasia Daily Monitor, Volume: 9, Issue: 79, on April 20, 2012

No Brothers In Arms In Egypt

The disqualification of ten candidates from Egypt's presidential race, including the Muslim Brotherhood nominee, has convinced the Brotherhood that the military is conspiring against it to win the election. It's now attempting to grab power from the army and threatening to take to the streets -- potentially sparking a new round in Egypt's revolution.

By Eric Trager

                                                   Khairat al-Shater of Egypt's Muslim Brotherhood and Freedom and Justice Party. (Mohamed Abd El Ghany / Courtesy Reuters)

In late May, Egypt will ostensibly hold its first open presidential elections in nearly six decades. But the Muslim Brotherhood suspects treachery. This past Tuesday’s disqualification of ten presidential candidates, including Brotherhood leader Khairat al-Shater, has convinced the group that the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), which has ruled Egypt since Hosni Mubarak resigned last year, is conspiring against it to ensure the election of a non-Islamist president who would restore the country’s autocratic order. In response, the Brotherhood has vowed to “protect the revolution.” It is directing its energies against the SCAF, running a replacement presidential candidate and calling for mass demonstrations. This aggressive approach is undermining the legitimacy of Egypt’s transition.

The Brotherhood’s animosity toward the SCAF is a relatively recent development. For the first 12 months following Mubarak’s fall, the Brotherhood appeared to be working in tandem with the military junta. The SCAF legalized the Brotherhood’s newly formed political party, Freedom and Justice, and administered parliamentary elections that the Brotherhood won handily. Meanwhile, the Islamist organization refrained from criticizing the SCAF, even endorsing the March 2011 constitutional amendments that legitimized the SCAF’s control of Egypt’s transition, and, after assuming control over the parliament in January 2012, appointing a retired general to chair the legislative committee that handles military issues. Cooperation seemed so smooth that many assumed that the SCAF and Brotherhood had agreed to accommodate each other’s needs and thereby control Egypt’s political transition jointly.

Despite this reciprocal relationship, however, the Brotherhood continues to mistrust the SCAF. To begin with, the group remembers that when it last cooperated with Egypt’s military rulers during a political transition -- after the 1952 Free Officers Revolution -- the military soon turned on it, banning it and imprisoning its leaders en masse. The Brotherhood also fears that the SCAF intends to retain its grip on Egyptian politics to protect its perquisites, which include autonomy over its budgets and control over major industries that, according to various estimates, comprise between 15 and 40 percent of the Egyptian economy. At times, the SCAF’s actions have validated this concern about its goals: it has tried to secure its financial equities by influencing the writing of Egypt’s next constitution, in which it hopes to carve out an autonomous niche for itself so that it is protected from parliamentary or civilian scrutiny.

The Brotherhood’s concerns about the SCAF’s autocratic intentions may be understandable. But the organization’s recent response is damaging the credibility of Egypt’s political transition.

The first of signs of a break between the Brotherhood and the SCAF came in March, when the Brotherhood-dominated parliament hinted that it might pass a no confidence vote against the SCAF-appointed government and demanded the right to pick Egypt’s next prime minister and cabinet. This represented a major overstep of the parliament’s authority: under Egypt’s provisional constitution, only the junta can select and remove ministers. And when the SCAF rejected the Brotherhood’s demand, the Islamist group doubled down on its power grab, using its parliamentary strength to pack the constitution-writing committee with Islamists, leaving only 16 out of 100 seats for secularists, five for Christians, and six for women. When one-quarter of the committee walked out to protest the Brotherhood’s actions, the Brotherhood became increasingly paranoid, blaming the backlash on a vicious media campaign and SCAF pressure. The Brotherhood then intensified its illegal attempt at removing the SCAF-appointed government, and, seeking executive power, reversed its pledge to stay out of the presidential race by nominating its own candidate, Khairat al-Shater.

The group made this decision despite knowing that al-Shater’s candidacy faced a major legal hurdle. In 2007, al-Shater was convicted of money laundering and belonging to a banned organization -- the Brotherhood -- and sentenced to five years imprisonment. Although the case was clearly politicized, Egyptian law prevents convicts from running for elections irrespective of why they were convicted. Thus, when the Presidential Elections Committee (PEC), which determines eligibility for the upcoming elections, disqualified al-Shater, it did so according to its legal mandate. The PEC, after all, can only apply the black-letter law, and thus has no authority to reevaluate convictions. Indeed, the Brotherhood anticipated this outcome: shortly after nominating al-Shater, it put forth a second candidate, Brotherhood political leader and former parliamentarian Mohamed Morsi, as a backup in case the PEC deemed al-Shater ineligible.

Al-Shater, of course, was one of only ten candidates disqualified by the PEC. But in all cases, the PEC appears to have acted on solid legal ground. Former Egyptian intelligence director Omar Suleiman, the presumed SCAF candidate, was disqualified for failing to accumulate the requisite number of authorizations to appear on the ballot. The PEC’s ejection of Salafist presidential candidate Hazem Abu Ismail was similarly sound: Abu Ismail’s mother was a dual Egyptian-American citizen and, under Article 26 of Egypt’s constitutional declaration, the Egyptian president must be “born of two Egyptian parents who have never held another citizenship.” Still other candidates were disqualified for outstanding criminal convictions, disputed party leaderships, lack of parliamentary support, evasion of military service, and foreign citizenship.

Yet the notion that the PEC essentially did its duty seems to have few adherents in Cairo. And a variety of conspiracy theories regarding the disqualifications are taking hold. According to the most popular of these notions, the SCAF ran Omar Suleiman only to boot him from the race, thereby making the disqualification of Abu Ismail and al-Shater appear unbiased. Another theory contends that the United States, fearing the prospect of a Salafist Egyptian president, forged the documents that demonstrate Abu Ismail’s mother’s American citizenship. To some extent, these conspiracy theories are not surprising: they are the product of an Egyptian society long accustomed to behind-the-scenes political manipulations during 60 years of autocratic rule. Moreover, Egyptian administrative bodies, especially ones as powerful as the PEC, rarely stick to their limited purviews, so it is understandable that Egyptians would doubt that the PEC acted within its authority.

However incredible the theories, they will certainly undermine the legitimacy of the elections. The Brotherhood is contributing to this problem: rather than simply encouraging its supporters to vote for Morsi, it has harshly attacked the PEC’s integrity and used al-Shater’s exclusion from the race to intensify its assault on the SCAF. Al-Shater, immediately following his disqualification, said, “there are attempts to abort the revolution by remnants of the Mubarak regime in all state institutions,” and later accused PEC chairman Farouk Sultan of being “loyal to Mubarak.” (It is worth noting the disingenuous nature of this accusation: although Mubarak did appoint Sultan president of Egypt’s Supreme Constitutional Court, his chairmanship of the PEC is enshrined in the very constitutional declaration that the Brotherhood helped draft, and for which the Brotherhood aggressively campaigned during the March 2011 constitutional referendum.) Meanwhile, after largely avoiding demonstrations in Tahrir Square since last year’s revolt, according to a statement that the Brotherhood released on Wednesday, it is suddenly using mass protests to “protect the revolution” from the SCAF’s “attempts at a coup” against it. The Brotherhood will participate in today’s mass demonstration, which is expected to draw tens of thousands of protesters, and has hinted that the protests could extend indefinitely, in the words of al-Shater, “until the revolution is completed.”

Moreover, by running Morsi, a much weaker candidate than al-Shater, the Brotherhood is preparing to blame its likely election loss on the SCAF. To address Morsi’s unpopularity, the Brotherhood has sought to downplay his importance by tweeting that the group is “tied to is project, and not to an individual.” The organization’s sudden participation in anti-SCAF demonstrations is an insurance policy: if Morsi cannot win, it will claim that the elections were rigged by a SCAF that, as al-Shater charged on Tuesday, “wants a president who is loyal to it.”

The Brotherhood will no doubt make this claim if Ahmed Shafiq, a presidential candidate and a former Egyptian Air Force commander who served as Mubarak’s final prime minister, is elected. As Murad Mohamed Aly, a Morsi campaign official, told me, “The Egyptians did not revolt to get rid of Mubarak … to get another Mubarak -- Shafiq or someone.” And this same logic could apply to Amr Moussa, Mubarak’s former foreign minister who currently leads most national polls. “We have strong doubts that Egyptians will elect someone who is connected to the previous regime,” said Aly. “If [Moussa is elected] through interference, we will protest.”

The Muslim Brotherhood’s recent behavior suggests that whenever possible, it will embrace conspiracy theories to justify its aggressive approach towards Egypt’s transition. So unless Morsi, or perhaps another Islamist, wins the presidency, the Brotherhood’s fight for Egypt’s future -- and its attempts to delegitimize those institutions that it does not control -- will likely continue well beyond the elections this May.

-This commentary was published in Foreign Affairs on 19/04/2012

Shadow Of Another War Hangs Over Southern Lebanon Border

By Michael Young

The negotiations in Turkey over Iran's nuclear programme last weekend were not particularly high in the attentions of the Lebanese living along their country's southern frontier with Israel. And yet if Iran is one day attacked militarily because the talks have failed, the Marjayoun-Hasbayya district will probably again become a front line in a destructive confrontation between Hizbollah and the Israelis.

This serene district, located in Lebanon's south-east corner, is a reminder of the country's bracing contradictions and essential beauty, whatever its status as a past and future battlefield. Lying at the foot of Mount Hermon, the area includes inhabitants from most Lebanese religious groups. It's not wall-to-wall harmony, but the intricacy of the communal geography, like the economic challenges faced by all, has favoured collaboration over conflict.

Hizbollah remains the ultimate decision-maker. However, the party maintains a low profile, and is largely unseen in the succession of non-Shia towns and villages stretching from the majority Christian agglomeration of Marjayoun to the mainly Druze Hasbayya. This contrasts with Hizbollah's much greater visibility in the central section of the border area, principally around the Shia township of Bint Jbeil. That may partly explain why United Nations troops deployed in Marjayoun-Hasbayya seem more relaxed, and can be seen eating at sidewalk cafes without perceptibly heightened security measures.

And yet all around there is precariousness, and an uneasy equilibrium. Israel's northernmost settlement, Metulla, is so close as to seem a part of the Lebanese landscape. Israeli listening posts dot the ridges leading from Mount Hermon southward, and behind them is the Golan Heights, which Israel occupied in June 1967. Among the Israelis, Hizbollah, the Lebanese army and UN contingents, we have one of the more heavily militarised of international boundaries.

One potential flashpoint is the Israeli-controlled town of Ghajar, which is considered the westernmost extension of the territory taken from Syria. Half the town belongs to Lebanon, but was again seized by Israel during the war of summer 2006. The inhabitants are Syrian Alawites who once thrived on smuggling. In 1981, when Israel annexed the Golan, they accepted Israeli citizenship.

I recall overhearing a conversation some years ago between two members of a Shia political party walking below Ghajar. "Who are they?" one asked, wondering whether he should return a wave from the villagers. "Even they don't know," his comrade answered.

How true - of Ghajar and sometimes of the Lebanese in Marjayoun-Hasbayya, who still are dealing with the legacy of the long Israeli occupation that ended in 2000. Many of those who remained during that time collaborated with Israel, or in one way or another benefited from its presence. This was usually the consequence of necessity, but it's also undeniable that thousands of Lebanese - Christians, Shiites and Druze - had ties to the instruments of occupation, above all the South Lebanon Army, the Israeli-backed proxy militia.

No one likes to mention it, but at the time the economy of the border region was more prosperous than today. The combination of an open border and a substantial number of people on the Israeli payroll meant a transit trade of sorts and cash to spend. In contrast, Marjayoun-Hasbayya has today become Lebanon's dead end, far from the centres of economic vitality, facing closed doors all around. The situation there is more difficult than in the Bint Jbeil district, where Shia money, bolstered by significant remittances from a dynamic emigrant community, has produced additional work opportunities.

Everyone in the south, however, suffers from the fact that the Lebanese army does not allow foreigners near the border without authorisation from the defence ministry. Hizbollah in particular, ever worried about Israeli spies, is equally reluctant to see travellers traipsing through a strategic area. The restrictions are resented by the population, which is eager to benefit from Lebanon's tourism trade. That's understandable, because the virgin region potentially offers a wide variety of leisure interests.

There is a consensus that if a new war were to break out between Hizbollah and Israel, it would be far worse than that of 2006. The Israelis would probably re-enter Lebanon, and they have reportedly been training for this eventuality. Marjayoun-Hasbayya, particularly the Hizbollah stronghold at Khiyam, would be a prime target in any ground campaign, as Israel strives to dismantle Hizbollah's infrastructure. The district also provides ready access northwards, into the lower reaches of the Beqaa Valley, where Hizbollah has built a defensive line that extends into the Jezzine district.

If the Israelis were to remain in Lebanon for an extended period of time, to impose a resolution on Hizbollah, Marjayoun-Hasbayya could turn into a double-edged sword for the party. The topography makes it ideal to pursue a guerrilla war. At the same time, however, the sectarian mix would require Hizbollah to be careful when it comes to managing the aftermath. Everyone in southern Lebanon, including Shiites, dreads having to endure yet another round of fighting. But while the discontent among Shiites could be easier for Hizbollah to neutralise, that would be less true for the other communities.

That's where the tranquillity of Marjayoun-Hasbayya, and much of the rest of southern Lebanon for that matter, is most meaningful. The mild people of the south are sick of the destruction that has been visited on them for decades. Hizbollah risks quite a bit if it drags Lebanon into fresh hostilities, above all on behalf of Iran. An idyllic setting hides myriad anxieties that still remain unaddressed.

-This commentary was published in The National on 19/04/2012
-Michael Young is opinion editor of The Daily Star newspaper in Beirut

Any Given Friday In Syria

How a battle over a Facebook page became a war for the soul of the Syrian revolution.

BY AMAL HANANO


A woman stands in the middle of a busy Damascus street. Yellow cabs honk and weave around her. Her red dress, splattered with white paint, flows in the wind along with a red fabric banner held up above her head like a translucent shield. A group of people gathers on the sidewalk to observe as she turns side to side, for all to see. As we watch them watching her through our computer screens, we hear a new sound -- not a familiar chant of the revolution, but loud claps of extended applause. When she faces the camera, we finally read her words: "Stop the killing. We want to build a country for all Syrians."

Her name is Rima Dali, and she stood in protest alone, armed with a red scarf and a powerful message, in front of the Syrian Parliament on April 8. She would be detained for two days for her dissent.
Dali's action, while brave, would have been easy to disregard as a fleeting incident if it hadn't happened again, a few days later, in front of the Palace of Justice. And again a few days after that, when more people occupied Dali's place and even more onlookers clapped from the sidewalk.

Activists like Dali, who had a strong presence at the beginning of the uprising, are trying to rewind Syria's clock to the early months of the revolution, when the message of selmiyeh -- peaceful -- dominated the streets. During the past two weeks, despite the regime's relentless violence, Syria protested like it was 2011 again.

During the 10-day lull between the announcement of U.N. and Arab League special envoy Kofi Annan's six-point plan for a ceasefire and its implementation on April 10, violence sharply escalated in Syria -- as it usually does before every international ultimatum directed at President Bashar al-Assad. But since then, while shelling and government attacks have continued in certain flashpoints, the daily death toll has decreased significantly. Within opposition circles, another sentiment was brewing even before the ceasefire: a realization that it's time to reclaim the revolution in order to reclaim the country.

For months, the civic and social activism of these peaceful protesters have been rendered obsolete next to the physical heroics of the Free Syrian Army's (FSA) military operations against the regime's brutality. Peaceful protests in city squares not only seemed impossible, but utterly useless against tanks, shells, and snipers. As armed resistance took its place within the revolution, the nonviolent activists slowly became passive pacifists. In recent days, however, that has changed.

This sea shift has been evident in the change in tenor of the names for the Friday protests. Every week, anti-Assad activists take to the Syrian Revolution 2011 Facebook page where, every Wednesday, they vote on the name of the upcoming day of protest. With more than 444,000 "likes," the page is one of the most popular online hubs of the revolution. In fact, people use the number of common "friends" they have with the page as a badge of honor: If you are pro-revolution and only a few out of your hundreds of friends have "liked" the page, it means you need to find new friends.

On April 6 -- Good Friday -- the chosen (and very awkward) name for the weekly day of uprising was rooted in Islamic history: It was the Friday of "He who has equipped a fighter has himself fought."

The name was intended as a call for Arab countries such as Qatar and Saudi Arabia to fulfill their religious duty and arm Syria's opposition. In stark contrast, last year on Good Friday, the Friday was named just that: al-Jumaa al-Azimeh, to express the unity of the Syrian people above divisive sectarianism. This time around, many asked: Why couldn't the same name have been repeated again this year? But the long-winded name had won -- by Facebook's version of democracy.

Last week, before the Facebook polling closed for the name of the April 13 protests -- the day after the U.N. ceasefire deadline, the day in which solidarity was key -- one name was in the lead: the Friday of the Armies of Islam. Yet another divisive (and completely off message) choice. This time, however, peaceful activists were ready to take action and fight back in a battle for the Friday name.

On Wednesday, April 11, media activists on Facebook and Twitter began a campaign to "rock the vote" for Friday's name. They advocated the secular, inclusive choice, "A Revolution for all Syrians." It was an intense campaign. Usually around 8,000 votes are cast each week, but last week there were more than 30,000. It was as much a battle between Islamic sentiment and secular inclusiveness as it was a struggle between those dedicated to solely an armed resistance, and those who still valued the power of nonviolent activism.

The gap between the two names slowly narrowed, and eventually the message of unity won by almost 2,000 votes. This small but significant victory unleashed palpable excitement among Syria's online activists: There was a sense that they had been heard and gained control of the revolution's message, at least for the moment. It was a needed boost of energy to a group of worn-out activists and, more importantly, it proved that a revolution within the revolution was not only possible but necessary.

Syrians' practice of naming the Fridays of the revolution was inspired by their Yemeni counterparts, who did the same thing during their revolution. The first Fridays were named by the Revolution page's administrators, and reflected the popular aspects and crucial demands of the revolution: Friday of Dignity, Friday of the Martyrs, Friday of Freedom for Detainees, etc. The names grew to have such influence on the street that the various opposition groups decided everyone should have a say in naming each Friday. In an exercise of online democracy, a voting system was established on Facebook with a weekly suggestion of seven potential names -- two nominated from the Revolution page, two from the Local Coordination Committees within the country, two from the Revolutionary Councils inside Syria, and one from the what is called the "red rose" group representing pacifists and secular individuals.

Some weeks, the names referred to current events, while others seemed to be random and at odds with the principles of the revolution. Fridays that request some sort of intervention have become common: There has been a No-Fly Zone Friday, for example, and Buffer-Zone Friday, a reference to the idea of setting up a safe zone for anti-regime Syrians along the Turkish border. Some Fridays seek to legitimize certain opposition factions -- for example, "The Syrian National Council represents me Friday" and "The Free Syrian Army protects me Friday." In fact, the Free Syrian Army was dedicated three separate Fridays of support.

The Friday names both stem from the street and in turn influence it. Especially for the politically charged names, the process seems to work in a cycle of forced legitimization: the Revolution page suggests the names, people on Facebook vote, the name is raised on banners held up by the people, who in turn give legitimacy to the name that was given to them. The name becomes a part of the revolution's timeline -- each week, it appears in media reports and video clips as the guiding principle behind the protests.

In the last two weeks, the need for active voices of nonviolent resistance was apparent in efforts both inside and outside Syria. One instance of Syrians being inspired by the world outside their borders was a flash-mob protest in the Sham City Center Mall in Damascus, which emulated flash-mob protests that have been popular for months with university students across American and Canadian cities, though of course without the same level of danger.

Another example of youth activism occurred in the early morning hours of April 12, the first day of the Annan ceasefire, when a large group of University of Aleppo students created a human SOS formation on campus grounds. Armed regime thugs soon arrived, locking the gates to trap the students. Some were beaten and arrested in the aftermath.

Recently, the launch of the Zero Hour Internet campaign -- a manifesto calling for mass protests to occupy the squares and streets across Syria -- created a positive, revolutionary buzz. Video clips supporting Zero Hour came from prominent activists inside Syria as well as supporters outside. While many are skeptical whether this hour will ever come to fruition, the strong, unified reception it has garnered from activists, opposition military forces, and politicians has underscored the urgent need for this message.

These events have emerged in tandem with the U.N. ceasefire and the beginning of yet another monitoring mission, with the first five of an advance team of 30 monitors arriving in Damascus on Sunday. The creative, nonviolent resistance tactics counter the regime's escalation of violence toward the Syrian people, despite the agreed-upon ceasefire. The FSA, for the most part, has held the truce while the regime pounded areas in Homs, Zabadani, Idleb, Douma, Taftanaz and rural Aleppo with rockets and shells. Bullets from security forces and snipers continued to target civilians protesting in many areas of the country, including the cities of Aleppo and Deraa. Despite these gross violations by the regime, the opposition continues to restrain the armed resistance and call for peaceful civilian protests.

Rima Dali's last Facebook status before being detained was inspired by a Martin Luther King quote: "The means we use to achieve our goals must be as pure as our goals." Her message has since become a Facebook page, and inspired a renewed campaign of nonviolence. One of Dali's friends, activist and harpist Safana Baqleh, was detained while attempting to protect her from security forces. She is still missing. On Monday, a group of activists protested in front of the Ministry of Interior once more. Their signs focused on the injustice Syrian citizens face every day at the hands of the police: "If you must arrest me, arrest me gently"; "If you want to arrest me, let my family know where I am"; and Rima's direct question about her detained friend Safana, "Where is the harpist?"

Using means as pure as our goals is one of the most difficult -- but also the most important -- principles of the Syrian revolution. To follow it in the face of increased brutality, the opposition must fine-tune and recalibrate its actions and message as the revolution moves forward. The difference between the Revolution Facebook page and Rima's red scarf is the difference between forcing a message and being the message. It is a lesson that the Revolution page, despite its popularity, must embody if it wishes to remain relevant.
In the beginning, no one thought Syria faced an endless list of Fridays ahead, but now, 57 Fridays in, it may be time to rethink the practice of naming the weekly day of revolt. The concept, once powerful and unifying, has grown tired and divisive. The Friday with a perfect name, "A Revolution for all Syrians," marked a rare moment of rewinding the past and perhaps capturing a glimpse of what may have been if we had not grown passive. It's a moment worth holding on to for a while.

Let every Friday be a day dedicated to the Syrian's people fight for freedom and dignity. And let each one be called, simply, Friday.

-This commentary was published in Foreign Policy on 18/04/2012
-Amal Hanano is a pseudonym for a Syrian-American writer. She has written extensively about the Syrian Revolution in Jadaliyya and the National

Who Broke Syria?

Bashar al-Assad did. But the international community and the media made things worse.

BY JAMES HARKIN

                                                                           Syrian President Bashar al-Assad

Less than a week into a U.N.-brokered ceasefire in Syria, the arrangement is already looking pretty shaky. The Syrian government has promised to pull its army back from major cities, but now seems to be reneging on that deal. But rather than castigating its motives, perhaps it might be a good time now to take a fresh look what exactly has been accomplished by the internationalization of the Syrian "problem."

I've been going to Syria for some years now, both as a journalist and an ordinary citizen, and it's been inspiring to see how the country has changed. Some of my friends are ordinary civilians; others are now involved in the motley collection of opposition groups that have emerged since the uprising began in March of last year. What's often lost in the account of crisis given by po-faced humanitarians, with their pictures of dead bodies and tales of indecipherable evil, is how inspiring the revolt originally was for many ordinary Syrians. Virtually all the people I know in Syria have changed their opinions radically in the last year, and their demands have grown bolder and more ambitious.

As spring 2011 gave way to summer and fall and the flagging Baathist regime moved to snuff out dissent, some opposition groups looked to the force of arms to protect their demonstrations and their communities. At around the same time, international efforts to apply pressure to the regime led to sanctions that virtually no one in Syria wants (even the Free Syrian Army), an ill-fated mission by Arab monitors that disappointed everyone, and now a U.N. initiative that has initially stemmed the daily round of killings, but failed to satisfy either the government or the opposition.

So what's going wrong? The problem, in my view, is that the tools of international law are a very blunt instrument with which to solve real problems of civil strife. In November, for example, I smuggled myself into Homs as the desperate opposition movement was beginning to turn to the Arab League to mediate in its conflict with an increasingly brutal regime. As the situation worsened, the daily demonstrations (I could still hear them breaking out in November along with the occasional crackle of sniper fire) were joined by armed militias that grew up to protect Sunni areas of the city. Then the geopoliticking began.

In December, the Syrian National Council seems to have made an orchestrated effort to turn Homs into a Syrian Benghazi -- the eastern Libyan city whose imminent destruction by Muammar al-Qaddafi's forces provided the catalyst that sparked the international intervention in Libya last year. The council spread stories in the international media, for example, suggesting that the Syrian Army had moved up reinforcements with which to strike the city, and that it had given the rebellious Homsies 72 hours to lay down their weapons or be killed. When I phoned a respected veteran activist in Homs, he told me that the charge simply wasn't true. Things were bad enough, he said, without having to make up scary stories. In retrospect, by leaning on precedents within international law rather than the force of its own movement, the exiled Syrian opposition seems to have aimed to exaggerate the civilian losses in the city into the claim of genocide in order to push buttons within the international community.

The United Nations bought it. Navi Pillay, the U.N. High Commissioner for Human Rights, said that "many voices are warning that a major assault" on Homs is about to begin, that a further military buildup had already begun. "I am not in a position to confirm those reports," she said, "but the prospect of such an attack is extremely alarming."

If there was a strategy to internationalize the conflict, however, it failed. The United Nations could do nothing, but the promise that it might may have put ordinary activists and Free Syrian Army rebels in the city at even greater risk. Many were led to believe that help was coming, when it most definitely wasn't.

The history of most humanitarian interventions in the last 15 years has been similar: By promising more safety than it can credibly deliver, the United Nations has often put the lives of those on the receiving end of its efforts in even greater danger, everywhere from Srebrenica to South Lebanon. By changing the incentives facing both parties to the conflict, the United Nations, at its worst, only makes their incentives more perverse -- and their negotiating positions even more intractable.

Much the same applies to the international media. Beginning in late December, Western journalists fanned out, under the coat-tails of Arab League observers, to find the "war story." They duly met members of the Free Syrian Army, and came back pleased as punch with pictures of masked, professional-looking soldiers wielding rocket-propelled grenades. In the short term, the result was a propaganda coup for both the journalists and the Free Syrian Army. As soon as the media departed, however, the government forces moved in to kill or capture many of these guerrilla fighters, whose implicit claim that they could control territory for any length of time turned out to be dangerously hollow.

That was then. As the situation has ground toward a temporary stalemate, everyone in the opposition now realizes that NATO has neither the mettle nor the resources for another Libya. That kind of organized military intervention is simply not going to happen. But the next phase of diplomacy is in danger of making matters substantially worse. The remaining carrots offered to Bashar Al-Assad's regime are now being matched by thinly veiled sticks whereby the international community promises to turn a blind eye to Saudi and Qatari efforts to back the military opposition with force of arms.

This internationalization of the conflict has been met by ordinary Syrians with a mixture of incredulity and opportunism. Driving around the center of Homs at the end of February (until I was picked up by the Syrian Army and sent back to Damascus), I stopped a group of old men in the center of town and asked for directions. "Are you Russian?" was their first question. Probably government supporters, and quite possibly Alawites, they knew that the only foreigners they really wanted to talk to were Russian, Moscow being the Assad regime's most outspoken defender on the international stage. 

Amid the catastrophic decline of their economic fortunes, many Syrians are rather proud to be center of this international attention; at least, they say, their country is not being ignored or forgotten about. But they're also deeply patriotic and understandably proud of their country's fragile ethnic and religious mosaic. As several Syrian teenagers pointed out to me, the same Qatari government that has been moving to protect the human rights of Syrians has been denying them visas to visit Qatar. Nor is it lost on them that Qatar and Saudi Arabia are so democratically backward as to make the Syrian government look like a hippie commune. The SNC's apparent decision to accept money from the Gulf States to pay salaries to Free Syrian Army guerrillas sounded breathtakingly arrogant, and makes for shockingly bad politics. Not only does lend credence to the conspiracy theories peddled by the government that the uprising is the handiwork of foreign agitators; it risks splitting the indigenous opposition movement and empowering exactly the kind of Sunni extremist groups who are most likely to stoke sectarian tensions.

None of this is to argue that Syrians should not take matters into their own hands. After more than a year of grueling state violence, there are very few absolute pacifists among the Syrian opposition. Just about everyone I met in Syria was caught between the terrible foreboding that things will -- must -- get substantially worse before they get better, and not wishing any violence upon their fellow countrymen. But if the Saudis and the Qataris are allowed to funnel unlimited cash and weapons through the country's traditional smuggling routes, the likely result will be to empower a crooked new class of arms-dealing middle men and the kind of fringe Salafist groups that are quite happy to turn themselves and everyone else into martyrs for the cause.

Whatever the Syrian government now says, the influence of these extremist Sunni factions is currently marginal, even inside the Free Syrian Army. Most of the military defectors are simply conservative Sunnis from farming communities. But Syria is currently exhibiting a brand new irony of our post-war-on-terror era. The secular Syrian liberals and leftist groups that have most in common in Western values don't want NATO intervention, while it's exactly the kind of people who don't much like us -- the aging remains of the Muslim Brotherhood, as well as the newer, more radical Sunni salafists -- who are begging for our help.

Who knows: If the unthinking drift toward creating neo-mujahideen in Syria and Iran (a strategy advocated by Foreign Policy's own James Traub) continues, following a decade in which radical Sunnis became America's Public Enemy No. 1, Osama bin Laden might have to be posthumously converted back into the freedom fighter America saw him as in the 1980s, marching into battle to drive out one of the last vestiges of godlessness in the Middle East.

-This commentary was published in Foreign Policy on 17/04/2012
-James Harkin is an Irish, London-based writer and social analyst. His latest book is Niche: The Missing Middle and Why Businesses Need to Specialise to Survive

Alawites For Assad: Why The Syrian Sect Backs The Regime

The Alawites stand by Assad out of a historic fear of Sunni persecution. Although some Alawites are breaking ranks, most face a dilemma: by continuing to support the regime, they may invite the very Sunni revenge that they dread.

Leon Goldsmith

                           
A rally in downtown Damascus earlier this month. (Khaled Al Hariri / Courtesy Reuters)

Since the start of the revolt in Syria, the country’s Alawites have been instrumental in maintaining President Bashar al-Assad’s hold on power. A sect of Shia Islam, the Alawites comprise roughly 13 percent of the population and form the bulk of Syria’s key military units, intelligence services, and ultra-loyalist militias, called shabiha (“ghosts” in Arabic). As the uprising in Syria drags on, there are signs that some Alawites are beginning to move away from the regime. But most continue to fight for Assad -- largely out of fear that the Sunni community will seek revenge for past and present atrocities not only against him but also against Alawites as a group. This sense of vulnerability feeding Alawite loyalty is rooted in the sect’s history.

The Alawites split from Shia Islam in ninth-century Iraq over their belief in the divinity of the fourth Islamic caliph, Ali bin Abi Talib, a position branded as heresy by the Sunnis and extremist by most Shias. The community began as a small collection of believers, and over the following centuries it suffered almost constant discrimination and several massacres at the hands of Sunni Muslims. In 1305, for example, following a clerical fatwa, Sunni Mamluks wiped out the Alawite community of the Kisrawan (modern Lebanon). As late as the mid-nineteenth century, in retaliation for the rebellion of an Alawite sheikh, the Ottomans ruthlessly persecuted the Alawites, burning villages and farms across what little territory they held.

Despite this long-standing persecution, the Alawites fought to integrate into modern Syria. In 1936, as the French mandate waned, Alawite religious leaders convinced their anxious followers to incorporate themselves into the new, overwhelmingly Sunni, Syrian state. Over the next several decades, Alawites moved away from the mountains to pursue educational and employment opportunities in the cities. Between 1943 and 1957, Alawite migration tripled the population of Hama, and between 1957 and 1979 it quadrupled the size of Latakia.

Many Alawites also joined the military. Since Ottoman times, Sunni Arabs had largely spurned army careers, but Alawites welcomed the opportunity for stable income. By 1963, they made up 65 percent of noncommissioned officers in the Syrian army. The rise of Alawites in Syrian society throughout the 1960s was assisted by political infighting among the Sunnis and the Baath Party coup of 1963, which united working-class Alawites and Sunnis under one banner.

Although Sunnis initially tolerated the growing clout of the Alawite community, resentment resurfaced when Hafez al-Assad, an Alawite and the father of the current president, seized power in 1970. When he proposed a new constitution three years later that mandated a secular state and allowed the presidency to be awarded to a non-Muslim, Sunnis protested across the country. In early 1976, with religious tensions flaring, the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood launched its uprising against what it called the “heretic” Alawite regime. The Alawites, harboring their long-standing fear of rejection and persecution by the Sunni community, rallied around Assad. The two sides hardened for battle, and over the next six years Assad relied on his sect to beat back the Brotherhood revolt.

In February 1982, the struggle reached its climax in Sunni-dominated Hama. Seeking to end the rebellion, Assad massacred the Sunni population of the city, killing as many as 20,000 residents. Alawites blamed the Muslim Brotherhood for the disaster, largely convinced that Sunnis had and would always reject their efforts to integrate. Even liberal Alawites, who criticized Assad’s aggressiveness at the outset of the revolt, remained silent in the aftermath of the Hama massacre. They had been transformed from victims into perpetrators.

Since the Hama slaughter of 1982, the Alawites have consolidated their control of the country. According to the Syria scholar Radwan Ziadeh, they comprise the vast majority of Syria’s roughly 700,000 security and intelligence personnel and military officer core. In fact, they constitute so much of the country’s security apparatus that Syrians are said to often put on an Alawite accent when apprehended by intelligence officers in the hope of receiving better treatment.

The Alawites’ loyalty to Assad today is hardly assured, however. Despite popular notions of a rich, privileged Alawite class dominating Syria, the country’s current regime provides little tangible benefit to most Alawite citizens. Rural Alawites have struggled as a result of cuts in fuel subsidies and new laws restricting the sale of tobacco -- their primary crop for centuries. Indeed, since the provision of basic services by the first Assad in the 1970s and 1980s, most Alawite villages -- with the exception of Qardaha, the home of Assad’s tribe, the Kalbiyya -- have developed little. Donkeys remain a common form of transport for many, and motor vehicles are scarce, with dilapidated minibuses offering the only way to commute to the cities for work.

Some Alawites are explicitly breaking ranks. Last September, for example, three prominent Alawite sheikhs, Mohib Nisafi, Yassin Hussein, and Mussa Mansour, issued a joint statement declaring their “innocence from these atrocities carried out by Bashar al-Assad and his aides, who belong to all religious sects.” According to Monzer Makhouz, an Alawite member of the Syrian National Council, a leading opposition group, Alawites are joining protests in the coastal cities of the Alawite territory. And in recent weeks, evidence has emerged of defections of Alawite soldiers and intelligence officers, seemingly from less privileged Alawite tribes, who have described themselves as “Free Alawites” and called for other Alawites to join them.

The fall of Assad presents several possible scenarios for the Alawites. It could launch a comprehensive reconciliation process, drive them back to their mountain refuge in northwestern Syria, or lead to open conflict with the Sunnis. No matter what, the Alawites face a dilemma. If Assad collapses, the community will have to fend off the criticisms of supporting the regime for this long. Sticking with Assad may increase the odds of an unforgiving Sunni retribution, but it at least keeps the sectarian conflict at bay -- that is, as long as Assad remains.

-This commentary was published in Foreign Affairs on 16/04/2012