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A long article which both looks at the formation of the problem, and a forecast of the ultimate outcome. While not exactly a desirable state of affairs, it won't be the revival of some craptacular empire either:
http://mosaicmagazine.com/essay/2016/07/the-great-arab-implosion-and-its-consequences/
Part i
http://mosaicmagazine.com/essay/2016/07/the-great-arab-implosion-and-its-consequences/
Part i
The Great Arab Implosion and Its Consequences
Who or what will replace a century of failed Sunni Arab dominance? What, if anything, can the West do to help shape the future?
ESSAY
OFIR HAIVRY
JULY 5 2016
About the author
Ofir Haivry is vice-president of the Herzl Institute in Jerusalem and head of its National Strategy Initiative.
In 2007, in a seminar room in Jerusalem, a day-long session was devoted to Israeli regional strategic perspectives. I was among the participants together with several other scholars, a former Israeli interior minister, a future Israeli defense minister, and two future Israeli ambassadors to the U.S. At a certain point, the talk turned to various scenarios for the regional future and the opportunities or dangers each of these entailed for Israel. When the possible breakup and partition of Arab states like Iraq or Syria was raised, the near-unanimous response was that this was simply too fantastic a scenario to contemplate.
Now we live that scenario. The great Sunni Arab implosion that began with the 2011 “Arab Spring” was unforeseen in its suddenness, violence, and extent. But some, both inside and outside the Arab world, had long suspected that, sooner or later, a day of reckoning would indeed arrive. (Among Westerners, the names of Bernard Lewis and David Pryce-Jones come most readily to mind.) Today, those in the West who acknowledge this great collapse for what it is will be better able to face the emerging realities. But the first and most important step is to recognize that there is no going back.
I. Creating the Modern Middle East
The current mayhem in the Middle East displays so many moving parts as to obscure basic trends and processes. Events are multiple, alliances are fragile and fissiparous, and even with a scorecard it’s often impossible to tell the players or to keep them apart.
Still, efforts have been made, by participants as well as by onlookers, to make sense of the whole. One such effort, prompted by the 2003 American invasion of Iraq and the toppling of Saddam Hussein, was mounted by King Abdullah of Jordan a little over a decade ago. In the power vacuum created by the U.S. action, Abdullah discerned the potential emergence of a “Shiite Crescent,” spearheaded by a newly energized Iran and extending in a hegemonic arc from Tehran northeast through Iraq to Syria and Lebanon (the latter courtesy of Iran’s proxy Hizballah), and south all the way to Bahrain. In an update just this past January, a confidant of the Saudi royal family, referring to Iran-backed fighters in Yemen on the kingdom’s southern border, upgraded the Shiite crescent to a “Shiite Full Moon.”
To be sure, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and other Sunni or Sunni-related powers, alarmed not only by Shiite aggression but also, if not more so, by America’s withdrawal from the region, have been taking measures to fight back. But the very term “powers” in relation to these states has become a misnomer. For if there is a single prime mover of the dizzying kaleidoscope of events we have been witnessing in the last years, it is the crumbling of a century-old Sunni Arab regional order and, no less piercingly, the entire worldview that upheld it. In a world where Sunnis vastly outnumber Shiites, this is a crisis of epic proportions.
Understanding the causes and the extent of this collapse is critical to thinking clearly about the political landscape that will emerge from the debris and how it may or may not be influenced by the actions of outside forces. For that purpose, a little history is in order.
The modern Middle East was created when Britain and France penciled new borders to replace the defeated Ottoman empire. Superseding the centuries-old Ottoman hegemony would be the hegemony of the Sunni Arabs.
The modern Middle East was created a century ago when the Sykes-Picot agreement between Britain and France, subsequently revised and supplemented, penciled new borders to replace the defeated Ottoman empire. Behind the particular lines in the sand delineating one or another concocted political entity stood one basic assumption: superseding the centuries-old Turkish hegemony would be the hegemony of the Sunni Arabs.
This assumption was put forward most explicitly in the 1915-16 correspondence between Sharif Hussein of Mecca and Sir Henry McMahon, the British high commissioner in Egypt. As Hussein described it, Britain would recognize a new Arab nation, or in his words “an Arab Caliphate of Islam,” dominated by the Arabic-speaking Sunnis who then as now formed a regional plurality and in some areas a distinct majority. These would come to dominate all non-Arab and non-Sunni groups in the core areas of the Mesopotamia-Levant crescent and the Arabian peninsula; later on, the North African littoral would be added. That position of dominance was in turn expected to be capable of repelling any incursions by geographically adjacent non-Arab powers like the Turks, the Persians, or the Ethiopians.
After World War I, this scheme led to the drawing of borders aimed at ensuring Sunni Arab predominance everywhere except for the two small enclaves of Jewish Palestine and Christian Lebanon. The borders put the overwhelmingly Kurd areas of northern Mesopotamia under Arab rule in Syria and Iraq; the Shiite Arab majorities around the Persian Gulf under the rule of Sunni or Sunni-related dynasties in Iraq, Kuwait, Bahrain, and Saudi Arabia; the Christians of northern Mesopotamia and the southern Nile regions under the Muslim regimes of Syria, Iraq, and Sudan. An Arab identity was thus impressed on the region, complete with a founding myth of an original Sunni Arab “Golden Age” running from Muhammad through the early caliphs to Muslim Spain, then derailed by evil Crusaders, heretical Shiites, and devious Turks, and now triumphantly restored.
In this narrative, identities other than the Sunni Arab one were to be regarded as aberrations from the ideal of the “Arab world.” There followed campaigns to impose a unified language on the whole region, erasing the teaching and use of the Kurdish, Berber, and Aramaic tongues and to dissolve Christian, Alawite, Druze, and Shiite identities into an Arab nationalist ideal, itself a somewhat secularized version of the Sunni Arab one.
Naturally, many in the region resented the wholesale obliteration of their culture and identity. But there were also some among the minorities who embraced it with relish, seeing in the Arabized vision of history a welcome parallel to what they regarded as the successful experiments in national integration practiced in Republican France and the Soviet Union. It was not incidental, for example, that most of the main figures behind the creation of the pan-Arab nationalist Ba’ath party were not Sunnis but rather Christians, Alawites, and Druze. The identification of Arab nationalism with the Sunni Arab golden age reached the point where the Hafez Assad regime in Syria would officially declare its own Alawite sect to be a part of mainstream Islam (which it certainly is not), and the otherwise secularist regime of Saddam Hussein in Iraq would inscribe the Islamic invocation “Allahu Akbar” on the national flag.
Yet all such attempts at integration and nation-building failed miserably. After centuries of rule by Turkish overlords or European imperial satraps, no real Sunni Arab political tradition or ruling class existed anywhere. Dynasties exerting quasi-autonomous rule over some areas, like the Hashemites and Saudis in Arabia or the Alouites in Morocco, essentially presided over makeshift tribal coalitions rather than actual or embryonic states. A phrase attributed to the Egyptian diplomat Tahseen Bashir (1925-2002) put the matter pithily: “Egypt is the only nation-state in the Arab world; the rest are just tribes with flags.” But even Egypt, purportedly the exception to the rule, lacked an Arab political tradition or ruling class, having been founded in 1811 by an Albanian military dynasty that surrounded itself with largely non-Arab and non-Muslim functionaries and was propped up both militarily and financially by Britain.
After centuries of rule by Turkish overlords or European imperial satraps, no real Sunni Arab political tradition or ruling class existed anywhere.
Nor was this glum political landscape offset by any notable economic, social, or cultural assets. Almost everywhere, the majority comprised poor and illiterate subsistence farmers; in the few urban centers of significant trade or manufacturing, like Aleppo, Alexandria, and Algiers, the elites were preponderantly non-Sunni or non-Arab.
All of these evident shortcomings were pointed out at the time by many of those involved in setting up the new regional order. No less than François Georges-Picot himself described the Arabs as “a myriad of tribes”; Sir Arthur Nicholson, then-head of the British Foreign Office, similarly characterized them as “a heap of scattered tribes with no cohesion or organization.” For the most part, however, such views were set aside both by infatuated Western romantics like T.E. Lawrence “of Arabia” and by great-power calculators like Picot and Nicholson themselves. The latter, ignoring or suppressing the contrary evidence of their eyes, promoted a totally unrealistic picture of the benefits that the new dispensation was bound to confer upon these societies.
This is hardly to deny the existence of certain native writers, activists, thinkers, and journalists—dissidents, we might call them today—who agitated for modernizing, Westernizing, and liberalizing their societies, and who made up what some optimistically called the Arab “Renaissance”(al-Nahda). But they could hardly compensate for the inherent feebleness of political structures whose perdurance depended on outside powers mainly preoccupied with carving up the region into effective zones of influence.