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The Inclusion Imperative |
| Reprinted from the Middle East Studies
Association Bulletin, December 1996 (with changes in orthography to HTML
conventions). Copyright 1996 by the Middle East Studies Association of North America |
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Authoritarianism and Its Persistence A PUZZLING ISSUE for those of us who study the modern Middle East is the slow—and in some instances nonexistent—progress toward more open and inclusive political systems.1 Why does authoritarianism persist in the Middle East? Why have regimes in many parts of the world, from East Europe to Latin America and elsewhere, made successful transitions from authoritarianism while the Middle East has lagged behind? Is the Middle Eastern exceptionalism likely to endure? What makes these questions more paradoxical is the presence of a number of democrats and reformers in the Middle East, as well as human rights organizations and civic groups, that attempt to provide a check on abuses of power and try to promote political reform. Moreover, there are regimes such as Israel and Turkey where democratic political systems, with limitations, exist and function reasonably successfully. Although in a few other polities (Lebanon, Iran, Egypt, Kuwait, and so on) semi-regular competitive elections for high offices are held, exclusionary tactics are used routinely to keep some individuals and groups from becoming active players in the political arena. What, then, is the problem? Let me start by stating that I reject the purely cultural
or essentialist explanations for the persistence of authoritarianism. Although it is quite
accurate, for example, to point to patrimonialism and clientelism as critical forces in
Middle Eastern politics, it is more accurate to view these as symptoms rather than causes
of authoritarianism. Religious explanations, likewise, also fall short for at least two
reasons. First, Islam as all other great religions embodies elements that can be used
instrumentally for both authoritarian or democratic purposes. There is no necessary
incompatibility between Islam and democracy. Second, as the recent elections in secular
Turkey have shown, open contestation for political office can take place in an Islamic
society with Islamic political parties participating fully and responsibly in the
electoral system. Moreover, although many Arab regimes have explicit references to Islam
in their constitutions, most of the Middle Eastern regimes are in fact secular. The source
of authoritarianism, therefore, must be found in areas other than simply the religion. In the Middle East, as in all societies and regions, both universalist and exclusionary norms operate. What makes the Middle Eastern case different may be the significant role of the state and some social groups in defining and enforcing a set of exclusionary norms.3 The problem is further exacerbated when norms of exclusion are derived from universalist religious criteria. In other words, this amounts to invoking a universal norm but particularizing it—that is, applying it to one group only. Such exclusionary postures can only benefit a well-defined in-group and exclude others. Similar observations can be made about norms of difference that are based on ethnicity, gender and nationality. All of these serve to exclude the other on the basis of pre-conceived and unchanging norms. As alluring as this explanation may be, it has some problems. Can one confidently say that norms of exclusion are more common in the Middle East than, say, in Africa, Latin America or Central Europe? I doubt that norms of exclusion are more prevalent in the Middle East than other regions. Clearly the recent history of conflicts and warfare in the Middle East has increased the saliency of exclusionary norms because of anger, perceptions of injustice and the like. It is also true that certain groups, particularly those with fundamental religious orientations, use universalist norms to exclude the other. But this does not amount to any kind of conclusion asserting that norms of exclusion are more common in the Middle East. We can, however, say that any analysis of politics of inclusion in the Middle East must also take into account the role of values and other cultural artifacts that have become part of the Middle East over time. Some of these are positive and conducive to inclusive politics; some are not. Clearly when an extremist Islamist group claims that it alone knows the truth, and that you either join them or risk excommunication, then there is a serious problem. This issue is also relevant to extremist groups elsewhere in the Middle East, whatever their religious orientation may be. An immediate and serious consequence of such exclusionary attitudes is to raise legitimate fear among religious minorities and women. Rather than promoting ecumenism, these views perpetuate particularism and deny a proper place for pluralism in politics and social affairs. I do not deny the relevance of these factors and their bearing on people’s attitudes
and views. What I am concerned with, however, has less to do with deeply seated views of
individuals and groups and more with their behavior in the political arena. And it is in
the political arena, in the context of the rule of law, where the inclusion is most
applicable to the Middle East. A far better explanation for the persistence of authoritarianism and exclusionary political systems, I believe, may be found in other realms. There are a number of political and economic factors that have sustained authoritarian control in the Middle East. In this regard, the role of the state has been specially problematic. Broadly speaking, the Middle Eastern states have dominated the economy, manipulated sociocultural diversity to fragment the opposition, used repression to stifle dissent and promoted different ideological formulas to rationalize nondemocratic regimes.4 These features are in turn nurtured by both internal and external environment. Internally, the so-called rentier states—that is, allocation states dependent on either oil or security rents for their revenues—have cultivated governmental non-accountability and have promoted autonomy of the state from society. Even when pressured by fiscal crises, as in the post-Gulf War era, rentier states of the Middle East have so far been able to adjust and, at least for now, maintain the old patterns of governance. For a variety of reasons, these fiscal crises have not yet played the same role in helping open the political systems as debt crises did for Argentina and Brazil. The external environment, specially factors such as the Arab-Israeli conflict or the Cold War rivalry, have provided the rationale and the excuse, or, to use Gaetano Mosca’s term, the “political formula,” for continued authoritarian control. As Mosca puts it, political formulas are not “mere quackery. They answer a real need in man’s social nature; and this need, so universally felt, of governing and knowing that one is governed not on the basis of mere material or intellectual force, but on the basis of a moral principle.”5 These political formulas, however, are wearing thin. They are wearing out because their real transparency is becoming obvious to the masses and as a result of extensive recent socioeconomic changes in the Middle East that have made their operation more difficult. Although the Middle Eastern states have amassed enormous power over their citizens, their continued hegemonic control cannot be taken for granted. What makes the situation worse is the widespread perception—or reality—throughout the region that there is more corruption and mismanagement than ever before. The perception of unjust inequality fuels resentment, anger and disillusionment with the political systems as many come to believe that their governments have failed to deliver on their promises. Unemployment and underemployment add considerably to these sentiments. An initial way to respond to these legitimate demands is to promote systematically
economic and political inclusion. Socioeconomic and other changes that have taken place in
the Middle East necessitate the opening of entrenched systems. Let me review some of these
socioeconomic changes briefly. As I view the Middle East of the past two decades, I am struck by the enormity of changes that have taken place in many key socioeconomic spheres. The changes are remarkable both in terms of their magnitude and potential impact on politics. The Middle East has witnessed dramatic increases in population, not only in the larger states of Egypt, Iran and Turkey, but also in smaller Gulf states. Moreover, the rates of urbanization have been rapid with significant increases in population of a few primate cities of the region. Cities such as Cairo, Tehran and Istanbul continue to grow rapidly and demonstrate all the serious problems of uncontrolled population growth, squatter settlement expansion, inadequate housing, jobs, services and the like.6 A striking demographic feature of the Middle East is the increasing youthfulness of its population—an interesting contrast, incidentally, to the trends in much of the industrialized world. In many Middle Eastern countries more than one-half of the population is under the age of seventeen. Clearly this group, educated and urban resident, will make greater demands for political and economic inclusion than their parents. When these demands are articulated, aggregated, and organized the regimes will have to take notice. Another significant change in the Middle East, and one for which the states can take credit, is the unprecedented rise in the level of literacy. A special beneficiary of the increase in literacy has been the female population. Although the general gap between male and female literacy remains high, the indicators clearly point to a pattern moving toward an eventual parity in the rates. Gender imbalance, however, remains a serious problem in higher education where males outnumber females by large margins. Similar changes have taken place in the broadly defined area of communication. There are several relevant issues here. Most important is the explosion in the sheer amount of available information. This is not a simple case of quantity but also one of variety and kind. Middle Easterners now have access, either through government channels or other sources over which the regimes have no control, to all kinds of information from around the world. Even when certain governments, such as Iran, try to limit access to news and cultural programs from abroad, they soon discover that it is for all practical purposes impossible to do so. As the Saudis have also discovered, technological advances thwart censorship. There are always avenues, whether the fax machine or the Internet, that can help people get around the restrictions. To me it seems clear, then, that important changes in the social and demographic
profile of the Middle East have created a new environment for politics. The collective
impact of these changes may be observed in clandestine and open pressures for shares in
the collective goods and a yearning for the politics of inclusion. A quick look at the Middle East provides us with examples of a variety of regimes that score differently on the inclusion-exclusion continuum. There are those Middle Eastern governments, such as the current Iraqi regime, that practice exclusion combined with violent repression. Given the current configuration of domestic politics in Iraq and regional and international politics, the regime may indeed be able to stay in power much longer than anyone had ever envisaged. The cost to Iraqi people has simply been beyond comprehension. It is clearly naive to expect Saddam Hussein, or similar types of leaders, to move toward the politics of inclusion in their societies. The region has also witnessed other forms of forced exclusion from above. Here the case of Algeria looms large. The way in which FIS (the Islamic Salvation Front) was excluded from joining the government, after its success at the polls in December 1991, has given cynics a field day for ridiculing the prospects for free electoral politics in the area. The Algerian debacle has resulted in two related developments. In the first place, it has made many authoritarian governments pause and act extra-cautiously whenever they contemplate opening up their political systems. In neighboring Tunisia, for instance, the regime’s categorical proscription of Islamist participation in the political system has been buttressed by the Algerian case. Second, the situation in Algeria has also taught that inclusionary politics has to be slow and incremental. Dramatic and sudden entrance into the political system, even via legitimate routes, raises enormous fear and can result in pre-emptive action by the military and security forces. This message has not been lost to the leadership of the Islamic Action Front in Jordan, which has opted essentially for incrementalism in its political agenda and action. There is also a pattern in the region of regimes allowing some degree of inclusion while, at the same time, excluding certain categories of people from politics. The limited franchise system in Kuwait, for example, excludes women and non-native citizens from the electoral process. Even with such restrictions, the Kuwaiti opposition has been able to muster support and participate actively in the parliament. It was able to win two-thirds of the seats in 1992, and nearly 50 percent in 1996. It seems, at this stage at least, that a major issue in Kuwaiti society and the parliament will be the emancipation of women. One can hope that the success of this type of inclusionary politics will soon lead to the inclusion of both women and non-native Kuwaiti in the political process. Another example of group exclusion is in Iran, where Baha’is are denied not only the right to practice their religion but also participation in elections. Far more serious is their excommunication and exclusion from the political community, an exclusion that extends to public service, education and governmental institutions. Iranian electoral politics are also subject to constraints imposed by the so-called Council of Guardians, which is charged with the task of approving candidates’ eligibility. In the last parliamentary elections of March 1996, for example, about 40 percent of the candidates were rejected on vague, discriminatory and ostensibly pernicious grounds such as their character, loyalty, commitment to the political system or practical adherence to Islam. The situation is even more discouraging in places such as Saudi Arabia and several of the Gulf countries, where the lack of any sort of elections perpetuates privilege and prevents effective opposition from emerging on the scene. The hazards of exclusion in the Middle East—economic, political, or social—re many as they work to sustain unstable and non-egalitarian orders. Of course, inclusion cannot be universal under every and all conditions. It must be based on the out-groups’ acceptance of the rules of the game and avoidance of extra-legal and violent methods. By the same token, those in control must also be willing to cede power and vacate positions of authority in favor of those who have gained power via legitimate routes. Inclusion may be incremental but it requires a state that pursues it actively. An actively inclusive state is one that takes “steps to mobilize particular groups... [by] shepherding them into the state.”7 Exclusionary politics may be successful in the short run; but, given the rapid changes in the socioeconomic profile of the Middle East to which I alluded earlier, it is unlikely to last forever. Strategies of exclusion often serve to solidify and further polarize the opposition. Absence of meaningful opportunities for political reform leave people with the option of either exiting the system or resorting to violent methods. There is no reason that regimes that already allow some degree of limited participation cannot move incrementally toward a more inclusionary political posture. There are, of course, several cases of limited inclusionary politics in the Middle East with some degree of success. The Israeli-Palestinian accommodation, the recent problems notwithstanding, is an important example of a process leading to inclusionary politics. Perhaps the most notable example of inclusion is the case of Refah Party in the 1995 Turkish elections and Erbakan’s success in forming a coalition government. There are other examples from Jordan, where in more than one election, moderate Islamists have been allowed to participate in the electoral politics. Perhaps the most prominent, yet highly controversial, case is that of Hizballah in Lebanon with its apparently different roles in the south and in the parliament. Hizballah, of course, has long been viewed with disdain by the United States government as an extremist and terrorist organization with limited support in Lebanon. But there is also the other Hizballah that participates in electoral politics.8 In 1992 elections, Hizballah won a total of eight seats when participation rates were very low because of the boycott by many Lebanese but specially by the Christians. In 1996, with a far greater rate of participation, it won seven seats. Whereas in the earlier election, four seats were won by Hizballah’s non-Shi’i sympathizers, the number was reduced to two in 1996. The available information, as acknowledged by even its opponents, indicates that at least in the parliament, Hizballah has acted as any other bona fide political party. It has made and kept deals with friends and foes and has acted within the rules of the game. The real question is whether Hizballah in the parliament has become moderate as a result of being included in the political system or is this yet another maneuver--the instrumentalists’ line—to gain power in Lebanon. There is, of course, no way to give a definitive answer to this question. Only time can be the ultimate arbiter. As many of you know, there is a growing literature in the social sciences that argues for the moderating influence of inclusionary politics. The most notable recent example of this literature is Robert Putnam's book on Italy, Making Democracy Work.9 As Putnam observes, there is a discernible moderating influence of being part of the government even among those with radical philosophies and agendas. There are many other cases that appear to support Putnam’s inclusion argument. How about the Sandanistas who gave up the reins of power peacefully and who formed an alliance with a few former Contra leaders in their contest for the October 1996 elections in Nicaragua? Or even more noteworthy is the case of Fernando Cardoso, for long a leading dependencia theorist, who now as the president of Brazil is a neo-conservative. Patrick Gaffney in his informative book about Islamic preaching in Egypt, The Prophet's Pulpit, is on the mark when he talks about the desire of some Islamists to be included in the system. There is the classic case of the active Islamist, Sayf, who had been imprisoned for a few years in the early 1980s for his political activities. By 1991, however, he was a different political animal. Having secured a good job in a large manufacturing company, and having won a seat as a delegate in the parliament, "he could now be seen coming and going through the city's most posh neighborhoods in a large chauffeured automobile."10 Sayf's inclusion in the political system had brought an accommodation between him and the Mubarak regime. Is there, then, something special about the Middle East opposition, Islamist or
otherwise, that makes it immune to these moderating influences. I tend to think not. I
feel a sense of unease whenever Middle Eastern exceptionalism is advanced to explain the
persistence of authoritarianism and exclusionary politics in the region. On the contrary,
as recent history tells us for the Middle East, there are not too many other viable and
lasting alternatives to the politics of inclusion of non-violent groups. May this plea for
inclusion be heard in all corners of the region.
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