Storyteller: Photography by Tim Hetherington @ the Imperial War Museum

This is a small-ish (five rooms) but excellent, vivid, thought-provoking and FREE exhibition about the work and legacy of the legendary British photojournalist, filmmaker and humanitarian, Tim Hetherington (1970 to 2011).

It brings together 65 of his striking photos taken from warzones but also a lot more too, including: four large films projected onto wall-sized screens, half a dozen or so short interviews watchable on video screens with headphones, four or five of the cameras he actually used and one of his smartphones, plus documentary artefacts like his diary and notes, and examples of his half dozen or so photobooks.

Installation view of the Liberia room in ‘Storyteller: Photography by Tim Hetherington’ at IWM London. Photo by the author

The exhibition makes several key points:

1. Hetherington was uncomfortable with being just a war photographer. He felt a greater responsibility to the stories and to the people he met than that. And so he spent longer than is usual for traditional war snappers with the communities and fighters he was covering, and often returned months or years later. So while he continued to work as a photographer on assignment from the likes of the Vanity Fair magazine, he also developed the notion of ‘projects’, generally leading up to photobooks (see list below).

2. Hetherington was tremendously reflective and fluent. He appears not only in the four films (detailed below) and in the half dozen or so video interviews, but also via his own words – there are short pithy quotes printed around the walls. As to the content, it tends to be variations on the same basic idea which is the responsibility he felt to the people he photographed, the obligation he felt to dig beneath the stereotyped images of, for example, Catastrophe in Africa, to try to give his subjects more agency and dignity.

3. Hetherington also broke with convention in his use of vintage cameras through the early 2000s – a time of major advances in digital photography – and the display cases contain some of his actual cameras, such as his Rolleiflex 2.8 FX camera where he had to manually wind the film on with a side handle and manually set the focus. (Elsewhere we can see his Mamiya 7 film camera and Vivitar flash gun.)

The idea was that slowing the photographing process down him gave more freedom to interact with people, while challenging him to take more carefully considered photographs.

Installation view of the Libya room in ‘Storyteller: Photography by Tim Hetherington’ at IWM London. Note the display case containing one of Tim’s cameras and flash attachments next to a contact sheet and notebook.

Projects

1. Healing Sport

In 1999, Hetherington began work on his first large-scale project, ‘Healing Sport’. The idea was to look at the role of sport in ‘healing’ or creating spaces for reconciliation after conflict in war-torn countries like Liberia, Sierra Leone and Angola.

An amputee about to take to the field for a friendly football match at a war veterans camp situated on the outskirts of Luanda, Angola. June 2002, by Tim Hetherington © IWM (DC 63058)

2. Liberia (2003 to 2007)

The second Liberian Civil War (1999 to 2003) was Hetherington’s first experience of an active frontline. He joined up with journalist James Brabazon to capture the story of the Liberians United for Reconciliation and Democracy (LURD) as they marched on the capital, Monrovia, to overthrow Liberian president Charles Taylor.

For his initial assignment Hetherington photographed and filmed LURD combatants over a period of five weeks, but later returned to work, and at times live in Liberia as it transitioned from civil war to democracy. The result was the photobook ‘Long Story: Bit by Bit: Liberia Retold‘, a combination of photography, oral testimony and personal memoir, along with video footage which was incorporated into a documentary film.

A Liberians United for Reconciliation and Democracy (LURD) combatant in Liberia, June 2003 by Tim Hetherington at IWM London © IWM (DC 64010)

3. Afghanistan (2007 to 2008)

In 2007 Hetherington travelled with journalist Sebastian Junger to cover the front line of the war in Afghanistan. They were embedded in a platoon of the 173rd Airborne Brigade based at an isolated outpost called Restrepo in the Korengal Valley.

Initially it was an assignment for Vanity Fair magazine and Hetherington and Junger took turns to embed with the platoon for periods during its 15-month deployment, eating, sleeping and going on operations with the soldiers.

The idea is that the photos here avoid the clichés of battle and instead show these young Americans at work and play, off-duty, rough-housing and larking about and, in a famous sequence, sleeping. So evocative was the image of these tough young men shown in the vulnerable state of sleep that it gave rise to one of his films (see below).

A sleeping soldier from the United States Army’s 173rd Airborne Brigade in Afghanistan’s Korengal Valley by Tim Hetherington © IWM (DC 66144)

In fact the boys got a lot of material from this deployment, resulting in news items and magazine features, several books, a video installation and ‘the multi-award winning and Oscar-nominated documentary film, Restrepo‘. A lot of product, in other words.

The wall caption optimistically says that spending this much time with the soldiers, building up a high level of trust so that they let him capture them in all kinds of moods – all this ‘led him to ask questions through his work about the nature of masculinity’. The nature of masculinity. Really? This is the kind of modish boilerplate that curators write when they haven’t got anything to say. I don’t think the photos ask any questions whatsoever about masculinity, to any male it looks like a lot of male soldiers hanging out, training, play-fighting, smoking, and sleeping. Being soldiers, in other words.

US soldiers filling sandbags at the Restrepo outpost in Afghanistan’s Korengal Valley by Tim Hetherington © IWM

4. Libya (2011)

This was his final project, left unfinished at his death. During the Arab Spring (see my review of The New Middle East: The World After The Arab Spring by Paul Danahar) a wave of anti-government protests across North Africa and the Middle East starting in January 2011, Hetherington embarked on a new project to document the battle to overthrow Colonel Gaddafi’s regime in Libya.

Apparently, Hetherington left notes saying he wanted his photographs to bring out the ‘staged’ and ‘theatrical’ aspect of modern conflict, how a lot of it is performed by combatants who were raised on Vietnam or Rambo movies.

Installation view of the Libya room in ‘Storyteller: Photography by Tim Hetherington’ at IWM London. Photo by the author

It was here, on 20 April 2011, that Hetherington was killed while covering the front lines in the besieged city of Misrata. It’s unclear whether he was wounded by shrapnel from a mortar shell or a rocket-propelled grenade. He was badly wounded but still alive when he was loaded into a van to be driven to hospital but bled to death on the journey. The same attack killed photographer Chris Hondros, badly wounded photographer Guy Martin and wounded photographer Michael Christopher Brown.

Four films

Two of the rooms are dark spaces set aside for video presentations. One of them contains three short films on a loop which have been created for three screens i.e. split-screen films, being:

As you can see, they each relate directly to the three main zones of his reporting and the projects.

The cinema room at ‘Storyteller: Photography by Tim Hetherington’ at IWM London showing the three screens showing different images, part of ‘Sleeping soldiers’ (photo by the author)

At the other end of the series of rooms – in effect the exhibition’s climax – is a dark room dedicated to showing the standalone film, ‘Diary’.

  • Diary (19 minutes 8 seconds)

All the films are to an extent experimental, more like art films than news or reportage. They are OK but I’ve seen better. They feel almost like student works. Hetherington might have been an inspired photographer but producing a film, even of only a few minutes duration, is a completely different business. Our movie-saturated culture demands very high standards. And speaking as the series producer of various TV magazine shows, there’s a lot of craft involved, especially in counterpointing images and sound, an often overlooked but absolutely crucial aspect of film-making.

Thus, sorry to burst anyone’s bubble, but I felt Diary was poor. I especially disliked the use of the voice of what is presumably his girlfriend, recorded from phone messages: on a trivial level a) because it is, with horrible inevitability, American (Vanity Fair; US troops; based in New York; American girlfriend); but, more seriously, b) because it’s a pretty primitive concept to cut scenes of lonely sad hotel rooms, showers and beds, splice these with a few hairy moments out on patrol with troops or driving in a car which comes under attack, and then splice in the voice of girlfriend. It conveys quite a teenage aesthetic. Is he saying the life of a foreign correspondent/photographer can be lonely and isolating? Not a very interesting insight. And purely in terms of technique, hardly any of the shots are particularly good, and the sad girlfriend’s voice strategy feels corny. A student effort.

Self-absorption

This brings me to a thought which won’t make me any friends, which is that there’s an awful lot about him in the exhibition.

The wall labels make the same point over and over that he stayed far longer than usual among the communities and got to know people really well in order to tell their stories blah blah blah but the funny thing is we don’t hear any of their stories.

The LURD fighters in Liberia, the grunts in Afghanistan, I don’t think a single one of them is named. Instead, what we do get a lot of is how this or that project helped Tim grow as a person. In the interviews he explains that this project or that moment or the other photo represented a turning point, when he came to realise x, y or z, had a new insight, helped his evolution as a photographer. An overwhelming amount of it is about Tim, Tim, Tim and I was disappointed with the thinness of analysis of the actual conflicts he covered, Liberia, Afghanistan, Libya.

Thus in the ‘Healing Sport’ film, number 1) he is interviewed throughout the film, in fact the spine of the film is an extended interview with Tim Hetherington. 2) None of the sporting figures he photographed is interviewed or even mentioned by name. 3) He doesn’t talk about the sports so much as what the sports meant for him, about how the thing developed into one of his projects and dovetailed his interest in going behind the scenes of a story along with his concept of the Trojan Horse i.e. shedding light on conflict via a more acceptable subject i.e. sport. The core of the film is Hetherington telling us how he conceived and evolved the project and what it meant for him. It is, once again, all about him.

This self-absorption comes over in the captions scattered around the walls. Of the Afghanistan photos he wrote:

I didn’t want to pretend this was about the war in Afghanistan. It was a conscious decision. It comments on the experience of the soldier. It’s about brotherhood.

Not particularly offensive, you might think, but it’s about him and his decision-making. It’s a bit more obvious in another quote:

I became much more interested in the interrelationships between the soldiers and my own relationship to the soldiers than I was in the fighting.

In the Liberia section:

I have no desire to be a kind of war firefighter flying from war zone to war zone.

I do not set out to make a work of journalism but rather a visual novel that draws upon real people and places.

The attitude is best epitomised in this one:

My examination of young men and violence or of young men…it’s as much a journey about my own identity as it is about those young soldiers.

The wall captions tell us that he took many portraits of himself and that he was a prolific diarist, capturing his moods and thoughts and ideas. There’s an electronic version of his last journal which we can read via a touch screen. No surprise, maybe, that a man who was a prolific diarist made a film titled ‘Diary’ of which he wrote:

Diary is a highly personal and experimental film that expresses the subjective experience of my work, and was made as an attempt to locate myself after ten years of reporting.

Even the exhibition curator, Greg Brockett, agrees:

‘In the process of curating this exhibition, and the years I have spent cataloguing and researching Tim Hetherington’s archive, I have discovered just how driven Hetherington was to explore his own fascination with the world through the lens of conflict. I’ve uncovered a depth of personal insight to Hetherington’s character and his thoughtful approach to his work.’

I, I, I – the exhibition overflows with Hetherington’s sense of himself as an artist and maker gifted with particularly fine feelings and a special commitment to the people he photographed and yet … we get almost no sense of the personhood of any of the people he photographed, no names, no sustained engagement with them and little or no analysis of the conflicts he covered.

The amazingly vivid photo of the Liberian fighter looking at us with a hand grenade by his side, it would have been so much more powerful if we’d learned something about his story, his hopes, how he ended up where he is, rather than another sugary quote from Hetherington about his aims as an artist and his never-ending attempts to ‘locate himself’…

The Tim Hetherington cottage industry

A lot of people have taken Hetherington at his word as a mighty photographer and film-maker because, following on from all the self-centred quotes, I was amazed to learn of the small cottage industry which has grown up around him.

A year after his death, in 2013, Hetherington’s parents set up the Tim Hetherington Trust.

In 2013 his buddy Sebastian Junger made a documentary film about him, ‘Which Way Is the Front Line From Here? The Life and Time of Tim Hetherington’ (2013).

 

In 2016 a Tim Hetherington Fellowship was set up by World Press Photo and Human Rights Watch.

In 2016 the Tim Hetherington Photobook Library was set up in the Bronx, New York which appears to simply be all the books he owned when he died, as if they are the sacred relics of a saint.

And in 2017 the Imperial War Museum received the complete Tim Hetherington Archive from the Tim Hetherington Trust and set about ordering and cataloguing them, one result of which was their setting up a Tim Hetherington and Conflict Imagery Research Network.

So Hetherington is not only a famous war photographer and Oscar-nominated film-maker but this exhibition obviously represents the museum’s first opportunity to showcase their (relatively) newly-acquired archive and give it a real splash.

Inevitably, the IWM has also produced a book to accompany the exhibition, Tim Hetherington: IWM Photography Collection on Amazon. One more piece of Hetherington merch to join the photobooks, magazine articles, interviews and documentaries.

After a while I felt positively overloaded with Hetheringtonia, with Hetherington-mania. What will be next? A musical based on his life? Nomination as a saint?

He was a great photographer. He made a vivid war documentary. He talked a very good game in his pukka private school tones (Stonyhurst College and Oxford) and this exhibition is a scholarly, thorough and imaginative (the interactive journal, the cameras) act of respect by the new holders of his archive. But if you want to understand more about the actual conflicts he covered (Liberia, Afghanistan, Libya) and the people affected by them, I don’t think this is the place to do it.


Related links

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Imperial War Museum reviews

Dictatorland: The Men Who Stole Africa by Paul Kenyon (2018)

I very much enjoyed this book and highly recommend it – but it is not at all what I expected. With the title ‘Dictatorland’ and a photo of an African dictator on the cover, I expected it to be an entertaining romp through the careers of Africa’s most notable dictators and kleptocrats, and it certainly contains that element, with chapters describing the rise to power of the following notable crooks and dictators:

  • Mobutu Sese Seko (Congo)
  • Robert Mugabe (Zimbabwe)
  • Muammar Gaddafi (Libya)
  • Sani Abacha (Nigeria)
  • Francisco Macías and Teodoro Obiang (Equatorial Guinea)
  • Félix Houphouët-Boigny (Ivory Coast)
  • Isaias Afwerki (Eritrea)

Kenyon gives potted biographies consisting of short, punchy sections, scenes depicting the origins, education and early years of each baddie, their early involvement with their country’s independence movements or army (training ground for most dictators) or with a nationalist guerrilla movement.

Then he moves on to gruesome snapshots from their years in power, their madcap schemes (Mobutu’s Versailles-sized palace and Houphouët-Boigny’s basilica in the deep jungle vie for winner of the most expensive African folly) – descriptions of their secret police and torture chambers (Equatorial Guinea’s Macías Nguema is estimated to have had up to a quarter of the entire population of his country executed, making him ‘one of the most brutal dictators in history’) – and then on to the inevitable economic collapse, and their final overthrow, leaving a country in ruins.

In telling these stories Kenyon gives excellent backgrounders on the colonisation of the relevant country; the behaviour of its colonial government; the rise of nationalist agitation during the 1950s; the fraught political manoeuvres around independence, and so on.

All these profiles and pocket histories are clear and authoritative. They make for an immensely enjoyable read which conveys a lot of historical information with a sure, light touch.

The geological context

BUT there is one more crucial aspect of the book which I hadn’t expected at all; this is that Kenyon places the careers of all his dictators within a broader, what you could call, geological context. The entire book starts not with the this or that imperial conquest of this or that part of Africa, as you might expect, but with a description of the earliest ancestor of the genus Homo which has so far been found in Africa, the so-called specimen LD 350-1.

The point is that this introduces a deep historical perspective, far deeper than the past century or so of political history, a deep perspective from which Kenyon describes the geological history of Africa, and in particular the origin of the high value minerals and resources which were to play such an important part in modern Africa’s history, namely copper, diamonds, gold and then oil.

So, for example, he tells us about the discovery of the enormous stands of diamonds in southern Africa which caused the white invaders to seize the land from its black African inhabitants, and then to start fighting among themselves. He tells us the origin of the de Beers company and why the Kimberly region got its name, none of which I knew before.

This ‘geological perspective’ provides a deeper historical context for the actions of all the imperial conquerors, the colonial administrators, and then the newly independent black African leaders. It shows how they all tended to be dazzled by, fall victim to, act on the basis of, lust for Africa’s mineral wealth.

This perspective explains why the first few years of Congo’s independence era were characterised by civil war when the mineral-rich province of Katanga tried to secede from the nation (with the help of the Belgian government which wanted to hang on to its copper and diamond industries). It helps you understand how the Great War of Africa (1998 to 2002) developed into a struggle between numerous factions and foreign armies to seize parts of the country rich in minerals (diamonds, copper, gold, cobalt).

In the same vein, chapter three isn’t about a dictator at all but consists of an extended, and very readable, history of the rise of oil as the central fuel of the twentieth century. Kenyon gives the history of oil discoveries, first of all in Persia, then in Saudi Arabia and the other Gulf states, in the 1920s and 30s, the controlling role played by Britain – which still owned or ran many of those places – alongside the growing power of America and how, by contrast, for decades, no oil companies thought Africa would yield oil deposits.

The oil chapter introduces us to a number of white, European oil prospectors, from back in the glory days of prospecting, the 1950s. We meet more of them than we do Africans, especially the ones Kenyon has tracked down and interviewed, old white men in their 80s (men like Dave Kingston, Rex Brown, David Orser) who still remember the excitement of the primitive conditions they worked under in the deserts of Libya or the malarial swamps of the Niger Delta.

The point is that a lot of those early prospectors and the oil companies they worked for (BP, Shell, Esso) were dead wrong about Africa: certain parts of it turned out to be sitting on top of vast oceans of oil, starting with Nigeria, where oil was struck in 1956, and then in Libya in 1959, then offshore Angola.

But the deep political-historical point is that, just as the so-called winds of political change were sweeping through Africa, many if not most places on the continent were about to undergo a sweeping economic change which would see their entire economies becoming orientated around a handful of commodities, commodities which the West would not only discover and develop, but do everything in their power to keep their sweaty hands on.

The dictators didn’t plan it, but they came to power just as a handful of commodities emerged as the dominant factor in their countries’ economies and the key importance of this is that an industry like gold or copper or oil is a) highly centralised and b) generates fantastic wealth.

The coincidence of mineral discoveries with independence gave the dictators immense personal control about which foreign companies were awarded contracts and licences to mine and extract the resources, and taught the dictators how to cream off for themselves and their families, hangers-on and clients, truly vast fortunes, billions and billions of dollars.

To put it another way: although nobody understood it at the time, the mineralisation of the economies of so many African nations was to create and entrench the rule of dictators and elites who acquired obscene wealth, while their nations’ infrastructures fell to pieces and their populations starved in the streets.

Many resource-rich African nations were to turn into rentier states (p.225), a rentier state being ‘a state which derives all or a substantial portion of its national revenues from the rent paid by foreign individuals, concerns or governments…With virtually no taxes citizens are less demanding and politically engaged and the income from rents negates the need for economic development… Instead, the government essentially ‘bribes’ the citizenry with extensive social welfare programs, becoming an allocation or distributive state…In the words of Noah Feldman in his book After Jihad, “no fiscal connection between the government and the people. The government has only to keep its people in line so that they do not overthrow it and start collecting the oil rents themselves.”‘ (Wikipedia).

Dictators like Mobutu or the successive rulers of Nigeria dealt solely and exclusively with multinational corporations dealing in oil, copper, diamond or gold, raking in fortunes from licensing fees and a cut of the profits.

With this guaranteed income the rulers of rentier states do not need to consult the population (no need for pesky elections) because their administrations aren’t reliant on taxation the way ‘normal’ western states are; with a guaranteed income not reliant on elections or representative assemblies of any kind, billionaire dictators become ever-more detached from conditions in their countries which they let go to rack and ruin. They can spend a fortune on building up a state-of-the-art military and still earn enough in corrupt rake-offs to build a palace in the jungle and hire Concorde to fly in ice cream from Paris (as Mobutu did) or build the biggest most expensive folly in Africa (as Félix Houphouët-Boigny did), while their populations see their standard of living collapse, prices hit by hyper-inflation, food become rarer, drinking water unavailable, and ultimately starve.

Back to Kenyon’s book, so it’s only after this long disquisition on the early history of oil exploration in chapter 3, that Kenyon returns to his ostensible subject, the dictators, in chapter 4. This gives an excellent summary of the 1969 Libyan coup staged by the Free Officers Movement which overthrew King Idris (friend to the West), and which installed what was supposedly a free socialist society, but which quite quickly came to be dominated by Colonel Gaddafi and became more and more authoritarian – spies and eavesdroppers in all public places, midnight arrest, torture and imprisonment without trial, the usual stuff. The point being, he was able to do pretty much what he wanted, set up a security state, claim to have invented a whole new political philosophy, and provide training bases for terrorist groups from around the world, because of the vast oil revenues his government acquired year after year without lifting a finger.

I expected a book titled ‘Dictators’ to consist of maybe a chapter each about Africa’s top ten dictators, amounting to an ‘Observer I Spy Book of African Dictators’ – but although that is, obviously, the ostensible subject, it’s not really the core of the text. It’s this geological or mineralogical context which is, arguably, the book’s most distinctive feature.

Contents

The book is divided into the following parts:

Part One: Gold and Diamonds

Part Two: Oil

Part Three: Chocolate

Part Four: Modern Slavery

Cocoa

Clearly the topic of chocolate doesn’t quite fit into my initial suggestion that the book has a ‘geological’ or ‘mineralogical’ perspective. Chocolate is very much about geography, as I learned from Kenyon’s typically clear and interesting description, which explains that cocoa bean trees only grow in very restricted latitudes, in the right kind of tropical forest. The plant originated in South America but was experimentally introduced into Africa by Europeans, and nowadays Côte d’Ivoire and Ghana are by far the two largest cocoa growing countries, accounting for over 60 % of global cocoa production.

Which is why, after chapter 7 introducing and explaining the history and development of cocoa in Africa, chapter 8 of the book focuses in on Côte d’Ivoire and the notorious figure of Félix Houphouët-Boigny who started out as a mild-mannered doctor, union leader, and cocoa planter himself, before winning election to the French Assembly and then becoming Ivory Coast’s first president, a position he held from 1960 to his death in 1993, making him the longest-serving leader in Africa’s history (a record subsequently beaten by Robert Mugabe, ruler of Zimbabwe from 1980 to 2017). So a chapter about a dictator, alright; but placed in the broader context of a history of the relevant basic resource.

Anyway, chocolate is obviously not a mineral, which left me a little stumped at how to give an overall summary of the book’s perspective. ‘A resource-based history of some dictatorial African rulers’? ‘A commodities-based explanation of African tyrants’? Not exactly catchy, are they? I can see why Kenyon’s publishers will have struggled to come up with a title capturing what it’s taken me three or four paragraphs to explain and how ‘Dictatorland’, although very catchy, doesn’t begin to convey this historical and resource-led backgrounding which I’ve been banging on about.

So: the book is not at all what I was expecting because its focus on precious resources makes it much more interesting, and much more penetrating, than just another purely political history would have done.

Lots of context, not so much analysis

A reviewer on Amazon points out that, entertaining and well told though the dictators’ stories are, the book lacks any kind of political or intellectual analysis.

Well, yes and no. Kenyon has no ideological axe to grind and amid his many anecdotes, his stories about oil, independence struggles, his very readable accounts of the early days and triumphant rises of his dictators, it’s true that there’s little or no effort to question or dig deeper.

If you compare him with Michael Ignatieff’s books about international affairs, the latter uses examples and interviews to make searching points about the nature of nationalism and society which I found immensely illuminating and useful. There’s nothing or not much like that here. Kenyon tells his stories, describes key scenes from each country’s history, interviews survivors from those times, very well and very readably, and that tends to be your lot.

The Amazon reviewer wanted answers to more theoretical questions like: Why has post-independence Africa been such a disaster? What is it in African culture which makes Africans incapable of ruling themselves? Is democracy impossible in Africa and if so, why? Kenyon never asks those kinds of questions. He’s a descriptive not an analytical writer.

Except that, arguably, the mineralogical and resource-focused context is his theory, his analysis, his explanation. His mineral and resource-based perspective in fact goes a long way to presenting an explanation which underpins many of Africa’s troubles, and which, although it may be familiar to experts, I hadn’t come across in the dozen or so other books about Africa which I’ve read or not, I think, considered in such detail.

His short reference to ‘rentier states’, so brief it doesn’t merit inclusion in the book’s index, is a mighty key which unlocks not just the behaviour, but the tendency to total corruption, and the longevity which characterised so many of the dictators.

That first generation of dictators, coming to power in the early 1960s, is now routinely vilified, but their longevity did ensure stability of sorts. Since their overthrows, whether in the 90s (Houphouët-Boigny), in the Arab Spring (Gaddafi) or later (Mugabe in 2017), their countries have often got even worse and the resource perspective explains why: it’s because the dictators weren’t followed by ‘democracy’ in any sense we in the West understand. The demise of the dictators resulted in the eruption of multiple groups, parties and leaders, including the ever-intrusive armies, who themselves set about squabbling for control of the narrow range of commodities which generate such obscene wealth.

The West and the aid organisations have been fighting a battle for over 50 years to persuade the ruling classes of African countries to give a damn about their populations, to invest in infrastructure, industry and agriculture, to make long-term plans to develop the country as a whole and thus remove their populations from poverty. Meanwhile the elites themselves have been engaged in often cut-throat competition to fight their way to the seat of absolute power which the first generation of post-independence rulers showed is the pathway to unimaginable wealth, power and prestige.

This deep economic and political conflict is still at work in many African countries to this day, it’s arguably the key to understanding African affairs, and Kenyon’s excellent, hugely readable, enjoyable and illuminating book really helps to explain why.

Let the facts speak for themselves

There’s one other really strong aspect to Kenyon’s narrative which I want to emphasise. This is his admirable ability to let the facts speak for themselves.

The last two books about Africa I’ve read – ‘I Didn’t Do It For You: How The World Used and Abused A Small African Nation’ by Michela Wrong and ‘Blood River: A Journey To Africa’s Broken Heart’ by Tim Butcher – are both excellent in their ways, but irritated me because the authors banged on and on about the evils of imperialism and the racism of the colonial administrations, throwing these terms of abuse around on every page, repeating the same old accusations in the same old clichéd phrases, all the while generally downplaying the role of modern African rulers in Africa’s woes.

In my Wrong review I pointed out that simply venting the opinion that the colonial regimes were racist and exploitative, and insistently blaming ‘the West’ for everything that ever went wrong in Eritrea, soon becomes boring, irritating and, eventually, counter-productive.

By complete contrast Kenyon’s text is studded with facts, gives the facts, just the facts. For example, the opening chapter about diamonds states the facts about how the imperialists in the 1880s and 1890s stole the land from its native owners, in the Congo, in Rhodesia, in stark, straight, factual terms which really bring home the inexcusable iniquity of their behaviour.

Kenyon gives the facts about how local chieftains and rulers were swindled out of their land by crooked legal documents they didn’t understand, or simply driven off it at gunpoint; how Africans were corralled into small, unhealthy, infertile areas, while the whites stole all the best agricultural land (notably in Kenya and Rhodesia), or any land which showed signs of gold, copper or diamonds (South Africa in particular).

In the chapter about Mugabe Kenyon describes the surreal maze of passes and identity cards and papers which the British colonial authorities in what was Southern Rhodesia demanded that every African needed just to get around, just to walk down the street, how they had to step off the pavement if white people were walking towards them, how the slightest infringement of this world of rules triggered shouted abuse, beatings or arbitrary arrest.

In other words, Kenyon’s simple statements of the facts of imperial conquest, imperial land grabbing, imperial hypocrisy, imperial greed, the imposition of deliberately discriminatory, deliberately demeaning and humiliating regulations, at every level and every minute of an Africans’ life, is infinitely more powerful than Wrong or Butcher’s more generalised sloganeering about ‘racism’ or ‘the West’.

I don’t think Kenyon anywhere in the book uses the word ‘racist’ because he doesn’t have to. Kenyon’s plain, lucid stating of the facts of each of these issues does the same job but infinitely better; makes you quiver with anger, shrivel with embarrassment, and totally understand the rage and the impatience for freedom which drove agitators like Lumumba and Mugabe.

And this is another reason why I think this is an excellent book.

Eritrea

The very last chapter demonstrates Kenyon’s strengths and weaknesses. It gives a good account of the rise to tyranny of Isaias Afwerki, the man who rose steadily through the ranks of the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) to lead them to victory in the bitter 30-year-long war against Ethiopia, which finally came to an end in May 1991, with Ethiopia’s granting of Eritrea’s independence.

Kenyon tells the same story as Michela Wrong does in her long, digressive book ‘I Didn’t Do It For You’ in literally one-tenth of the space (one 44-page chapter versus Wrong’s 432 pages). Moreover, Kenyon’s account is more up to date, Wrong, published in 2005, hoping Afwerki’s regime might be overthrown or soften, Kenyon, published in 2018, giving the bad news that Afwerki’s regime not only didn’t soften but has become steadily more harsh and repressive.

Since independence Eritrea has had no elections, no constitution, no free press or media. It is almost impossible to gain entry to report on it. Eritrea commonly competes with North Korea as least free country in the world.

Also, Kenyon is balanced. Michela Wrong, as I’ve mentioned, comes over as very biased, repeating whenever she can the strongest criticisms of western nations like Italy, Britain and the West, very slow to blame anyone else (such as the brutal Derg regime in Ethiopia or its Soviet suppliers or the vile Afwerki), very slow to concede that the colonial period brought any benefits.

Kenyon, by contrast, feels fair and balanced. He clearly states that Mussolini’s invasion of Ethiopia was imperialism at its most brutal, involving poison gassing of entire villages; but that the Fascist regime did then set about building roads and harbour facilities and wide boulevards and a modern infrastructure. Similarly, he mentions that the Brits asset stripped the country after they’d won it from Italy in 1940 but also introduced democracy, a free press and trade unions. In other words, he shows that the imperial legacy was mixed.

Something also emerges from Kenyon’s account which doesn’t so much from Wrong’s, which is the importance of the visit by Afwerki and a few other EFPL leaders to Maoist China in the mid-1960s. They arrived in the middle of the so-called Cultural Revolution and were very impressed by the zeal and sense of embattled virtue of the young Red Guards who rounded up the entire bourgeoisie and shunted intellectuals off to the country to work alongside peasants.

This more than anything explains how Afwerki went from being a hero of the independence struggle to one of the most repressive dictators in the world – because he knows no better. All he knows is The Struggle, and so he imagines himself surrounded by conspirators, a paranoia which is occasionally proven true because people have, understandably enough, conspired to overthrow him, and then was confirmed when was broke out anew with Ethiopia in 1998, and then 9/11 confirmed the rising threat from Islamists in the country, and then the civil war between Tigrayans from the north fighting against the Ethiopian government and so, you can see it from his point of view: there is constant struggle; the revolution is in continual jeopardy; only one man can save the revolution and save his country, and that’s why he can’t afford to hold elections. What if Islamists, if regional separatists, if rebels or traitors were elected? No, of course not. Only one man can save the nation, and he has to carry on his embattled lonely duty for as long as it takes.

And so another African dictator is born.

Wrong spends 400 pages trying to persuade us that it was Italy, Britain and the wicked West who are responsible for Eritrea’s current plight. In Kenyon’s account, both imperial nations were guilty of bad or atrocious acts, and the UN of foolish ones, but the real responsibility falls on Afwerki’s Maoist indoctrination, the man’s personal paranoia and delusions of destiny.

(The same goes, in spades, for the career of Paul Kagame who’s been at the heart of Rwandan Political Front (RPF) activity since the late 1980s and, like Afwerki, brought the paranoid style developed when the RPF was a small outfit hiding out in the mountains into office into general government when the RPF seized power in 1994, where this anxious guerrilla mindset has blossomed into intolerance of any dissent, arbitrary arrest, imprisonment and execution worthy of Stalin or North Korea. See ‘Do Not Disturb’, the breath-taking indictment of the Rwanda regime, by Michela Wrong.)


Credit

Dictatorland: The Men Who Stole Africa by Paul Kenyon was published in 2018 by Head of Zeus Ltd. References are to the 2018 Apollo paperback edition.

More Africa reviews

The State of Africa: A History of the Continent since Independence by Martin Meredith (2005) – 2

This is a huge, 700-page, compendious history of all the African nations from independence (roughly the mid-1950s) to the time it was written (around 2010), so 55 years or so of modern African history.

Meredith chooses as epigraph to this big book the Latin tag from Pliny the Elder, ‘Ex Africa semper aliquid novi’ meaning ‘Out of Africa always something new’ – but a reading of the actual book confirms how utterly inappropriate this is. For if Meredith’s book demonstrates anything it is that, since independence, out of Africa have come the same five or six stereotypical narratives or events – civil war, one-party rule, dictatorship, economic collapse, famine, vast amounts of foreign aid – and the consistent failure to deliver the utopian dreams everyone hoped for in the heady first years of independence.

Two major contexts

Meredith only mentions them in passing but two broad historical contexts are worth bearing in mind.

  1. The independence movement in Algeria spiralled out of control into an appallingly brutal war which neither side was able to stop, and which threatened to tear the colonial power, France, apart. The war was at its worst in 1957 to 1961. The point is that Algeria stood as a terrible warning to the other colonial powers (Britain, Belgium, Portugal) of what might happen if they mismanaged things or delayed.
  2. The victory of Fidel Castro’s communists in Cuba in 1959 ushered in an era when the threat of the new African states falling to communism seemed very real and of global importance in the war between the two superpowers. Hence the head of the CIA warning President Eisenhower that Congo’s Patrice Lumumba might be ‘the African Castro’ and America’s feverish paranoia that if Congo fell to the communists it might influence the entire continent (p.104). Looking back, this level of anxiety seems exaggerated, even absurd. But the context is crucial in understanding the actions of all the colonial powers, but especially of America, which set about undermining left-wing governments and supporting right-wing, capitalism-loving dictators across the continent.

Both of these examples or precedents (Algeria, Cuba) lay behind the decisions of Britain and Belgian, in particular, not to linger or suppress independence movements. In other words, they added to the sense of urgency and haste which characterised the rush to make Africa independent, with such questionable results.

Part 1

1. The Gold Coast experiment (Ghana)

The tragic life of Kwame Nkrumah who went from political prisoner in the early 1950s, to lead his own political party, the Convention People’s Party, won the general election held under British auspices in 1954, before leading Ghana to independence in March 1957. Meredith vividly describes the week-long celebrations, attended by worthies from around the world including Zhou Enlai and Richard Nixon.

With a sickening inevitability Nkrumah found the new country difficult to rule, repressed political opposition and rigged elections. In 1964 he amended the constitution to make Ghana a one-party state, with himself as president for life. In 1966 Nkrumah was deposed in a coup led by the National Liberation Council.

2. Revolt on the Nile (Egypt)

Colonel Gamal Abdel Nasser led the 1952 revolution which overthrew the 32-year-old playboy King Farouk I. Much rhetoric about freedom and Arab socialism as Nasser tightened his grip on power, imprisoning rivals and getting elected president in 1956. The catastrophe of the Suez Crisis which put the nail in the coffin of the British Empire. From that moment Britain’s rush to decolonise picked up speed.

3. Land of the Setting Sun (Morocco, Tunisia, Algeria)

Apparently, the Arab word for north-west Africa, maghreb, means ‘land of the setting sun’ (as opposed to our word ‘Levant’ which means ‘rising’, to describe the old Ottoman Empire).

This chapter describes the descent of Algeria into a terrible insurgency which kicked off in the spring of 1954 with a wave of bomb attacks by the National Liberation Front (French: Front de libération nationale or FLN) with both sides slowly breaching their early declarations to target only combatants, so that by August 1954 the FLN was bombing civilian cafés and restaurants while the French security forces cracked down hard on the civilian Arab population, with large-scale arrests and torture.

An often overlooked aspect of the terrible war in Algeria (1956 to 1962) was that it made the French more amenable to granting its neighbours, Tunisia and Morocco, independence. Meredith describes the independence campaigning of Habib Bourguiba in Tunisia and Sultan Mohammed V in Morocco. The French arrested, imprisoned and exiled both these leaders, but eventually gave into widespread protests and both Morocco and Tunisia gained their independence in March 1956.

In 1957, amid an upsurge in terrorist bombings, the French governor of Algeria handed power over to the military, led by General Jacques Massu. The army locked down the capital city Algiers, ringing it with barbed wire, dividing it into sections which could be searched, cleared and then surveilled. Thousands of Algerians were arrested and tortured using electric shocks or waterboarding. It became known as The Battle of Algiers. In the country, peasants were rounded up into camps while native collaborator/spies (harkis) were deployed by the French.

By 1958 the FLN had been defeated, its leaders seeking refuge in Tunisia, whose new leader Bourguiba gave them sanctuary. However, the political system in France itself was in crisis. Violent disagreements about policy in Algeria led to the collapse of a series of short-lived governments. Worried that pacifist-defeatist politicians would gain power, in May 1958 the military took control of Algeria, allying with leading colons (white French colonists) to form a Committee of Public Safety. The French government declared a blockade, at which the Committee called for the return of the wartime hero, General de Gaulle.

4. L’Afrique Noire (Senegal, Ivory Coast)

L’Afrique Noire was the French term for the sub-Saharan part of its colonial empire, including Senegal and the Ivory Coast. Meredith describes the careers of Léopold Senghor of Senegal and Félix Houphouët-Boigny of Côte d’Ivoire.

5. Winds of Change (British colonies)

This chapter covers the independence movements in British colonies such as Nigeria.

Nigeria

Nigeria had only been created by the forcible union of north and south Nigeria in 1914, the north and south having themselves been slowly cobbled together from former, smaller protectorates since 1900. Nigeria could be divided into three great blocs: the north was Muslim and Hausa-speaking, with a conservative, feudal social system. It had few schools or colleges. The West, including the capital Lagos, was mostly Yoruba. Being on the coast, dotted with cities, it was more economically advanced and urban. In the East lived the Igpo who tended to be very well educated but had no social system of their own and so were scattered around Nigeria’s other territories. In addition there some 250 other ethnic groups, some of which protested and rebelled, including the Edo-speaking people of Benin province who longed to restore the kingdom of Benin. The British struggled with successive constitutions to try and create a balance between all these different constituencies. Nigeria was granted independence in 1960.

As a rule of thumb British colonies in West Africa were much more advanced than British colonies in East Africa (Kenya, Tanganyika) and Central Africa (north and south Rhodesia, Nyasaland). Politics in these latter countries was dominated by the fierce lobbying of the small white minorities, who dominated the local governors. Thus the settlers persuaded the Colonial Office to create a federation of Central Africa, consisting of Rhodesia and Nyasaland.

Kenya

Plans for a similar federation in East Africa were wrecked by the Mau Mau rebellion, which was an organised protest against the grotesque monopoly of the best agricultural land in Kenya by whites, and the land deprivation and lack of rights enforced on the million-strong Kikuyu population. Meredith gives a thorough account: the phrase mau mau actually meant nothing in Kikuyu, it was just a rallying call, and then the name given to the secret meetings where oaths of allegiance were sworn to the movement. Despite white paranoia, very few whites were actually killed during the so-called ’emergency’ (1952 to 1960), Meredith gives the number as 32, fewer than lost their lives in traffic accidents in Nairobi over the same period. He details British accusations that the Kikuyu leader Jomo Kenyatta, leader of the Kenya African Union (KAU) was involved, which led to a kangaroo court convicting and imprisoning him; and the brutal measures the British took against the insurgency, including setting up concentration camps.

The first Blacks were elected to Kenya’s legislative council in 1957. In October the Highlands area was formally opened to all races. The British thought they would continue to rule Kenya for at least another decade. In the event, independence was granted on December 12, 1963.

Nyasaland

Meredith gives the story of Nyasaland, to which the elderly Dr Hastings Banda returned as leader of the independence movement in 1959, determined to scupper Britain’s plans to make it part of a federation with Rhodesia. The colonial governor imported troops who tried to quell protests which turned into riots, troops shot, protesters killed, it becomes a nationwide movement etc.

Meanwhile, in neighbouring north Rhodesia, in the run-up to contested 1959 elections the authorities banned a leading nationalist party and imprisoned its leader, Kenneth Kaunda. Britain was losing its reputation for progressive colonialism in a welter of protests and arrests across all its African colonies.

Abruptly, Harold Macmillan’s conservative government gave in. Late in 1959 the Foreign Secretary Iain Macleod said further repression would lead to bloodshed. In February 1960 Macmillan gave his famous Winds of Change speech. Behind it was fear that further suppressing calls for independence would drive African nations into the hands of the communists. The British knew most of their colonies weren’t ready for independence – Meredith lists the pitiful number of native lawyers or administrators in the central and east African countries – but hurrying was a less bad option than delay, with the increasing repression, bloodshed and reputational damage that would inevitably entail.

6. Heart of Darkness (Congo)

The gruesome history of the Belgian Congo. It beggars belief that there are still statues of King Leopold II, one of the most blood-thirsty rulers in history, in Belgium. Congo was notable for four or five reasons:

  1. It was and is the largest country in Africa.
  2. The grotesque rule of Leopold II was probably the most evil, mass murdering of all the colonial regimes. As many as 10 million Congolese died during his rule, 1885 to 1908.
  3. Once the colony had been handed over to the Belgian government to run, it developed through the 20th century as one of the richest sources of minerals (particularly copper and diamonds) in the world.
  4. The rush to independence was hastiest and most foolhardy here than almost anywhere else. At independence Congo had 3 Black civil servants, 30 university graduates, no doctors, secondary school teachers or army officers. The firebrand new Prime Minister, Patrice Lumumba, had just four years of secondary school education plus one year in a technical college for postal clerks (p.95).
  5. With the result that within days of winning independence on 1 June 1960, Congo collapsed into chaos.

The army mutinied, the entire province of Katanga tried to secede, riots in the main cities included attacks on whites so that the entire Belgian community i.e. everyone who knew how to run the infrastructure of the country, fled in panic. Profile of the hectic unpredictable character of Lumumba, and the long dismal series of events which led, first to his arrest and, eventually, to his murder by Belgian and Congolese soldiers on the orders of his one-time lieutenant, Joseph-Désiré Mobutu, with the collusion of the UN and US, on 17 January 1961.

The stream of crises continued until Mobutu took power in a definitive military coup in 1965, and was to rule a one-party state for 32 years, until 1997.

7. The White South

South Africa

Meredith points out that the southern nations of Africa – north and south Rhodesia, south-west Africa and South Africa – looked at the other African countries gaining independence and were horrified by what they saw, especially the complete chaos punctuated by bloodbaths and military coups in Congo.

The fiercest response was in South Africa which in 1948 had established the system of apartheid and spent the next decades hardening the division between whites and blacks. Meredith chronicles the early history of the African National Congress (ANC), revolving round the figure of Nelson Mandela and the failure of peaceful efforts to counter apartheid. Peaceful protests such as general strikes became harder to justify after the SA authorities carried out the Sharpeville massacre on 21 March 1960, killing 69 protesters and injuring 180.

The more violent atmosphere heralded by the massacre led the ANC to establish the armed wing of the struggle, uMkhonto we Sizwe, in 1961. These guys carried out a not very effective sabotage campaign against a variety of infrastructure targets. In 1962 Mandela was arrested and imprisoned, despite a lack of evidence against him. But then in 1964 the authorities discovered the ANC and uMkhonto we Sizwe hideout at Rivonia, which was stuffed with incriminating documents. On the basis of these, Mandela was retried and, along with the key leadership of the ANC and uMkhonto, sentenced to life imprisonment on 12 June 1964.

Rhodesia

Meredith gives the history of Rhodesia, taking in the creation of the two independence parties, ZANU and ZAPU, up until November 1965 when Ian Smith‘s Rhodesian Front government, rebelling against pressure to grant Black independence, issued a Unilateral Declaration of Independence (UDI) from the mother government in the UK.

Angola

Angola was a backwater of the mouldering Portuguese empire, which was ruled by the dictator António de Oliveira Salazar. In 1956 the People’s Movement for the Liberation of Angola (Movimento Popular de Libertação de Angola or MPLA) was founded but police swoops in 1959 and 1960 arrested most of its leaders. In 1961 the colony was horrified by an outbreak of extreme violence in the north, where machete-wielding gangs massacred white bosses and the Blacks who worked for them. This was partly the work of a different group, the União dos Povos de Angola (UPA), run by Holden Roberto.

Mozambique

On the other side of the continent, in the other Portuguese colony, Mozambique, 1962 saw the creation of the Frente de Libertação de Moçambique (FRELIMO) which commenced a campaign of small-scale guerrilla attacks against border posts etc.

Dates of independence

1956 – Sudan, Morocco, Tunisia

1957 – Ghana

1958 – Guinea

1960 – Cameroon, Senegal, Togo, Mali, Madagascar, Democratic Republic of Congo (Belgian), Somalia, Benin, Niger, Burkina Faso, Ivory Coast, Chad, Central African Republic, Republic of Congo (France), Gabon, Nigeria, Mauritania,

1961 – Sierra Leone, Tanganyika

1962 – Burundi, Rwanda, Algeria, Uganda

1963 – Kenya, Zanzibar

1964 – Nyasaland (Malawi), North Rhodesia (Zambia)

1965 – Gambia

1966 – Botswana, Lesotho

1975 – Angola, Mozambique

1980 – Zimbabwe

1990 – Namibia

1993 – Eritrea

2011 – South Sudan

Part 2

8. The Birth of Nations

A chapter summarising the dire state of the geography and economies of most African nations at independence, and the consequent economic challenges they faced. It’s here that Meredith gives the shocking figures about the lack of African graduates or professionals right across the continent.

9. The First Dance of Freedom

Abandoning democracy

Meredith laments that almost all the new national leaders consciously disavowed democracy and instituted one-party rule. It’s interesting to read their justifications. It was claimed that democracy derived from advanced societies with well-defined classes and class interests which could be represented by political parties. By contrast, leaders like Nkomo and Kenyatta argued that while parties may have been necessary to organise and motivate different groupings in the fight against colonialism, now the colonialists had left and the nations were free, democracy represented a threat to African countries because the likelihood was that parties would come to be based on tribal or regional allegiances and so work to split and divide the nation. There’s actually a lot to this argument, as that’s what many African parties came to be, fronts for specific tribes or regional interests.

One-party rule

Regardless of the justifications, almost all the first leaders of the newly independent African nations went on to abolish democracy, establish one-party rule, declare themselves presidents for life, lock up any opposition figures (p.176), create cults of their greatness (p.180), set up a secret police which was told it could go to any lengths to save the state from communist or capitalist or imperialist subversion etc etc. These cults often took the name of the Great Leader – Nasserism, Nkrumahism and so on (p.163).

Corruption

And misuse money, in two specific ways: 1) instituting state-sponsored corruption at every level of society, while 2) spending fortunes on grandiose building projects, palaces, mansions, waterfront hotels. Presidents, ministers and powerful figures swiftly awarded themselves ‘the platinum lifestyle’ (p.171).While Nkrumah was crapping on about ‘African socialism’ his ministers made fortunes. Ghanaian minister Krobo Edusei caused a scandal when his wife ordered a £3,000 gold-plated bed from a London store. In later life he admitted to owning 14 homes, a luxury beach house, a London flat, expensive cars and six different bank accounts. African socialism.

Army coups

In 1958 in Sudan the army took control in Sudan from squabbling politicians. In 1963 Togo’s president was shot dead in a coup. In 1964 African mobs overthrew rule by the Arab elite and the sultan was forced to flee, the French army had to put down military coups in Gabon and Cameroon, while the British army suppressed army mutinies in Tanganyika, Uganda and Kenya. From 1965 coups became more frequent: in 1965 Algeria’s first leader was deposed; Mobutu overthrew president Joseph Kasa-Vubu in Congo; there was a military coup in Benin; Colonel Jean-Bedel Bokassa seized power in the Central African Republic, and so on.

10. Feet of Clay (Ghana)

An extended description of Kwame Nkrumah’s slow descent into authoritarian rule, isolation, paranoia, arbitrary arrest of opponents, accompanied by rising corruption. Meredith makes the pretty well-known point that patronage and corruption weren’t parasites on the system which could be eliminated; they were the system.

A detailed account of how Nkrumah destroyed the Ghana economy through mismanagement, ignorance, terrible accounting, disastrous decisions and so on. Incompetence on a national scale, plus classic withdrawal into dictator paranoia. And, also classically, when the army intervened it wasn’t for the good of the country – they’d happily watched it go to wrack and ruin – it was because Nkrumah started tampering with it, wishing to bring it directly under his control as he had done every other aspect of Ghanaian life. So it was that while Nkrumah was visiting China in 1966, the army deposed him. Joyous crowds celebrated in the streets, his statues was pulled down and portraits defaced. The kind of thing we were to see scores and scores of times in developing countries around the world over the past 60 years.

11. A House Divided (Nigeria)

Nigeria. Meredith explains the entirely tribal basis and vicious infighting of Nigerian politics which led up to the January 1966 military coup, in which the Supreme Council of the Revolution not just sacked but executed civilian politicians. And the complicated rivalries between North, West and East Nigeria which led leaders in the East to declare independence as Biafra, and the 3-year-long war which followed, in which up to 2 million Nigerians died.

12. Death of an Emperor (Ethiopia)

An entertaining account of the elaborate ritual which surrounded the Emperor Haile Selassie and the surprisingly aggressive imperial campaigns which had doubled his country’s size, starting back in the time of his ancestor Menelek (ruled 1889 to 1913), including the annexation of Eritrea and contested parts of Somaliland.

In the early 1970s mismanagement, especially of a famine in Wollo, protests by various sectors, and Selassie’s hastening senility, emboldened a group of army officers, who called themselves the Derg, to stage a coup in stages throughout 1974, which ended with the complete overthrow of Selassie on 12 September. In November the junta executed 60 former officials of the imperial government plus dissident elements within the Derg itself, by firing squad, and Ethiopia was declared a republic to be governed on Marxist-Leninist lines.

  • The Emperor: Downfall of an Autocrat by Ryszard Kapuściński (1978)

13. The Coming of Tyrants

After the first few heroic years of optimism, the military coups began. But worse was the advent of the monsters: Abaid Karume in Zanzibar (1964 to 1972); Jean-Bedel Bokassa in the Central African Republic (1966 to 1979); Idi Amin in Uganda (1971 to 1979); Francisco Nguema in Equatorial Guinea (1968 to 1979); Mengistu Haile Mariam in Ethiopia (1977 to 1991).

14. In Search of Ujamaa (Tanzania)

Julius Nyerere in Tanzania. He was a committed socialist though without a socialist party or advisers. In the mid-1960s he nationalised everything in Tanzania and proclaimed this native form of socialism ujaama, which is KiSwahili for ‘familyhood’ (p.253). In 1974 this was turned into the forced movement of some 11 million peasant farmers into collective farms, which had the same kind of catastrophic effect as in the Stalin-era Ukraine or Mao’s China i.e. the collapse of agricultural productivity and widespread hunger. Nyerere had to go begging to the World Bank and IMF and food agencies for emergency food supplies. As its economy went steadily downhill, Nyerere’s one-party state did improve literacy, schools, drinking water etc, but almost entirely funded by aid from the West.

15. The Passing of the Old Guard

Ghana

Nkrumah’s sad exile in a slowly deteriorating villa in Guinea planning a triumphant return to Ghana which never took place.

Egypt

Nasser’s great dreams of leading an Arab renaissance came to nothing, attempts to unify with Syria were a fiasco, his intervention in Yemen backfired, leading up to the humiliation of the 1967 Arab-Israeli War in which the Israelis seized the Sinai with its oil wells from Egypt. Yet he remained popular and Egypt was plunged into mourning when he died in 1970 of a heart attack, aged just 52.

Kenya

Jomo Kenyatta was the opposite of Nyerere, a keen advocate of capitalism, and provided the stable political and legal framework within which private enterprise could flourish. Much of the land belonging to the white settlers, the issue behind the Mau Mau movement, was sold to Black Kenyans. During the 1970s he faced political challenges and hardened his one-party rule. His fiercest critic was found murdered etc. Late in life Kenyatta slowly lost interest in ruling, preferring to concoct complex riddles. He died peacefully in 1978.

Senegal

President Léopold Senghor remained strongly Francophile, committed to maintaining links with France, accepting French capital in business and retaining French troops to safeguard his regime. In France he was a noted poet. In 1976 he bucked the one-party trend of his neighbours by allowing the establishment of two new political parties. In 1980 he handed over power to his protégé, becoming the first African ruler to relinquish power voluntarily.

Guinea

The first president of Guinea, Ahmed Sékou Touré, created a paranoid atmosphere of permanent plots which he claimed to uncover and used to arrest, torture and publicly execute opponents, real or imagined. A fifth of the population fled abroad. Touré nationalised industries, persecuted independent businesses, created parastatal agencies, so that the economy tanked and was, eventually, only surviving on western aid. After 20 years of enforced socialism, he began to relent and allow some elements of private enterprise.

16. The Slippery Slope

An overview of the calamitous economic issues which hit Africa in the 1970s and 80s, being:

  • famine and drought
  • the two oil shocks of the 1970s
  • the collapse of commodity prices on which most African states depended for foreign revenue
  • the disastrous loss of agricultural land, soil degradation and desertification

On top of all this, an explosive growth in population.

17. The Great Plunderer (Zaire)

This refers to Joseph-Désiré Mobutu, who ruled Congo from the date of his second military coup in 1965 to his overthrow by the forces invading from Rwanda in 1997. During those 32 long years he changed the country’s name to Zaire, Africanised all placenames (Leopoldville > Kinshasa, Elizabethville > Lubumbashi) and even his own name, changing it to Mobutu Sese Seko Kuku Ngbendu Wa Za Banga.

Mobutu nationalised agriculture, seized all businesses from foreign owners, causing a collapse in the country’s economy, and looted it on a grand scale, siphoning vast amounts into private bank accounts. Probably the greatest African kleptocrat, he was said to have stolen up to $15 billion. The Americans supported him on the simple Cold War basis that he was fiercely anti-communist and so maintained the centre of Africa against any Soviet influence. Mobutu was an honoured guest of US presidents from John F Kennedy to George Bush. Meredith doesn’t need to comment.

18. White Dominoes (Mozambique, Angola)

Portugal was the last European country to decolonise. Independence movements in its two main African colonies, Angola and Mozambique, commenced military activities in 1961, leading to what became known as the Portuguese Colonial War (1961 to 1974).

In 1968 Portugal’s long-serving dictator, António de Oliveira Salazar, was replaced by another authoritarian ruler, Marcello Caetano. He inherited military operations in Portugal’s main two African colonies, Angola and Mozambique. However, junior army officers had become unhappy with the way the army seemed like it was committed forever to these ruinous, unwinnable wars and so, on 25 April 1974, carried out the Carnation Revolution, overthrowing Caetano. Portugal’s new military rulers set out to divest themselves of her colonies immediately. Small Guinea-Bissau was easily granted independence in 1973.

Mozambique

In Mozambique the main liberation force had been the Front for the Liberation of Mozambique (FRELIMO) led by the zealous Marxist, Samora Machel. Terrified by the fire-breathing rhetoric of Marxist Machal, in the year between the declaration of independence in 1974 and its legal implementation on 25 June 1975, most of the 250,000 Portuguese in Mozambique fled the country, including all the civil servants, administrators, managers of the infrastructure and all businesses.

Frelimo passed a law ordering the remaining Portuguese to leave the country in 24 hours with only 20 kilograms (44 pounds) of luggage. Unable to salvage any of their assets, most of them returned to Portugal penniless, leaving a country empty of experienced administrators, engineers and so on.

Frelimo commenced an aggressive implementation of Marxism-Leninism which proved a disaster: central planning was as badly managed here as in most other African countries, leading to economic collapse, inflation, shortages of everything but especially food. Industrial output and agriculture collapsed leading to widespread famine. Frelimo eventually generated so much opposition that the anti-communist forces united to form the Mozambican National Resistance (RENAMO) rebel militias.

Renamo found backing from South Africa and the US. Civil war between Frelimo and Renamo was to consume 15 ruinous years from 1977 to 1992. An estimated one million Mozambicans perished during the civil war, with somewhere between 300,000 and 600,000 dying of famine. 1.7 million Mozambicans took refuge in neighbouring states, and several million more were internally displaced.

Angola

Something similar happened in Angola. As the deadline for independence approached, three rebel or independence groups/parties/armies vied for power, being the FNLA, MPLA and UNITA. As violence broke out most of the white Portuguese fled and the country collapsed into a civil war between what emerged as the two main forces, the communist People’s Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA) and the anti-communist National Union for the Total Independence of Angola (UNITA). The civil war lasted from 1975, with interludes, until 2002. See:

Part 3

19. Red Tears (Ethiopia)

How in 1974 the Provisional Military Administrative Committee (PMAC) of army officers, also known as the Derg, overthrew the regime of emperor Haile Selassie. In 1977 Colonel Mengistu Haile Mariam seized full control and initiated a wave of repression which became known as the Red Terror. During this two-year campaign as many as 50,000 Ethiopians were arrested, tortured and executed. The Derg dumped the corpses in the street and gained notoriety by demanding that families of the executed pay for the bullets. Marxist-Leninist housekeeping.

Meredith explains how Mengistu’s Marxist-Leninist policies, along with his brutal campaigns against Eritrean and Tigrayan separatists in the north, helped bring about the great Ethiopia famine of 1984 which led to Live Aid. At the time more than half of Ethiopia’s annual budget was devoted to maintaining an army of 300,000 (armed and supplied by Soviet Russia) in order to carry out operations against the Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front (p.334).

Mengistu was a doctrinaire Marxist who believed in collectivising agriculture and enforcing super low prices in order to provide subsidised food for his key constituencies in the cities. The detailed chronicle of his deliberate ignoring of the famine, attempts to deny it, to prevent journalists or aid agencies entering the famine-stricken areas, and then the politically motivated strategy of moving hundreds of thousands of starving people against their will from the north (close to where Eritrean separatists operated) to the more secure south where they had no homes or livelihoods, makes for terrible reading. What a complete bastard.

The title of this chapter comes from a memoir of his time in Mengistu’s government written by a defector from the Derg, Dawit Wolde Giorgis, ‘Red Tears: War, Famine and Revolution in Ethiopia’. In the words of reviewer Mohammed Hassen, this exposes ‘the callous brutality of the Ethiopian government towards its own people’, and the leaders of the Derg as ‘uninformed, anti-people, anti-democratic criminal thugs’ (Online review).

20. Fault Lines (Chad, Sudan)

Chad

Across the north of Africa is a line between the Arab Muslim north and the start of the Black African and often Christian south. Meredith gives a long, detailed and deeply depressing account of the north-south conflict in Chad, in which both sides massacred each other and Colonel Gaddafi, in power in Libya from 1969 onwards, took advantage by trying to seize northern Chad and, at his most ambitious, declared the unification of Chad with Libya – under his supreme control, of course.

Sudan

To the East, the equally long-running and demoralising war between Muslim north and Christian south Sudan. A key aspect of the backstory to both conflicts is that the northern Muslims had, for centuries, captured southern blacks as slaves as part of the widespread Arab slave trade. In fact Meredith records Arab militias capturing and enslaving Black southerners in the 1980s, all accompanied by vitriolic racism about the Blacks being sub-humans etc. About the Atlantic slave trade I hear on a daily basis and in virtually every art exhibition I go to; about the Arab slave trade, never.

21. The Scourge of AIDS

The interesting point is the number of African governments which refused to acknowledge AIDS or dismissed it as a racist Western conspiracy, with the result that many African countries didn’t commence AIDS-awareness campaigns till the 1990s by which time the disease had taken hold in their populations. Two notable exceptions were Senegal under Abdou Diouf, and Uganda under the leadership of Yoweri Museveni. Respect.

22. The Lost Decade

A detailed look at the economic collapse of almost all African countries by the 1980s so that they became increasingly dependent on foreign aid, on loans which needed to be continually rescheduled, and the accompanying demands from the IMF and World Bank for ‘structural reforms’. Through mismanagement, drought, civil war, collapse of commodity prices, most African countries became dependent on aid from the West.

What comes over, and is expressed in terms by African commentators themselves, is what condemned Africa to becoming the most backward and poverty-stricken of the world’s continents was the appalling quality of African leaders – tyrants, dictators but, above all, thieves, on an epic, mind-boggling scale.

23. The Struggle for Democracy

The long hold on power of Africa’s strong men, the generation who took power at independence and often clung on to it for 25 years or more, for example:

  • Gnassingbé Eyadéma of Togo (president for 38 years)
  • Omar Bongo in Gabon (41 years)
  • Félix Houphouët-Boigny of Côte d’Ivoire (president for 33 years)
  • Mobutu in Zaire (32 years)
  • Hastings Banda in Malawi (30 years)
  • Kenneth Kaunda in Zambia (27 years)
  • Moussa Traore in Mali (22 years)

Of the 50 African states in 1990, almost all were one-party states or military dictatorships.

The fall of the Berlin wall and collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 ushered in a new era. One party regimes and Marxist regimes appeared old-fashioned overnight. But the strong men clung on in the new landscape, for example Mobutu who struggled on for another 7 years.

24. A Time of Triumph (South Africa)

A long and harrowing description of ‘grand’ apartheid in all its totalitarian, racist horror. Meredith gives an interesting explanation of the changes in international affairs and geopolitics during the late 1980s which led the apartheid leadership to consider sweeping reform. He ends with a moving account of negotiations with Nelson Mandela, climaxing with his release and then the first free, multi-racial elections in South Africa’s history.

Apart from the long, complex history of violence, guerrilla warfare, civil war between the ANC and Inkatha, South Africa’s interference in all the nations bordering it and so on – on a human level I learned that a) Mandela and the last apartheid leader, F.W. de Klerk, really didn’t get on, and that b) when his marriage to wife Winnie Mandela ended, she very publicly took a much younger lover and embarrassed him in public (‘Mandela’s late years of freedom were constantly blighted by her wayward example’), leaving him an often lonely figure (p.438).

Part 4

25. In The Name of the Prophet (Egypt, Algeria, Sudan)

Sayyid Qutb

The imperialists had oppressed them. Secular nationalism was a failure. The first generation of post-independence rulers turned out to be corrupt tyrants. Socialism and Marxism turned out to be dead ends. Following the Iranian revolution of 1979 there began a revival of political Islam which seemed to many ordinary people a last resort, given that all western political systems and theories had failed. Political Islam encouraged the idea that western concepts like democracy or capitalism were infidel and inappropriate to Muslim lands, and that only return to the purity of the Prophet’s laws and rules would restore society.

The principal architect of jihad ideology [was] Sayyid Qutb…whose writings influenced generations of radical Islamists. (p.444)

Qutb, an Egyptian who supported the Muslim Brotherhood, was imprisoned by Colonel Nasser, then executed in 1965 – but not before he’d developed, written and distributed a starkly simplistic view of Islam. According to Qutb the entire Muslim world can be divided into the Party of God and the Party of Satan with no middle ground. Repressive regimes cannot be changed from within and so must be overthrown by jihad i.e. armed struggle.

Any land that hampered the practice of Islam or failed to apply sharia law was ipso facto part of Dar el-Harb – the Abode of War. ‘It should be combated even if one’s own kith and kin, national group, capital and commerce are to be found there.’ (p.444)

This is really, really important. Qutb’s writings are crucial to understanding the modern age. His simplistic binary worldview, and his insistence that democracy, nationalism, human rights and all those other ideas, are infidel western abominations – all this explains the wars which have steadily engulfed the Arab/Muslim world in the last 30 years.

Qutb’s writings explain why generations of jihadis have been convinced that the only honourable and devout course of action is to fight your enemies to extermination. His writings have hugely contributed to instability right across the Arab world and are the ideological background to jihadis fighting in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Yemen, Libya and Sudan. Meredith mentions a couple of other Muslim thinkers:

  • cleric Omar Abdel Rahman who taught that jihad was the only way to vanquish the enemies of Islam (p.445)
  • Muhammed al-Farag, who taught that jihad is the sixth pillar of Islam and that armed struggle is imperative for all true Muslims in order to cure a decadent society: ‘the first battlefield for jihad is the extermination of these infidel leaders and to replace them with a complete Islamic Order’ (p.446)

Only jihad can bring about the perfect Islamic society. Jihad must be waged until the perfect Islamic society is achieved. But there are many forces resisting this, the obvious outside forces of America and the West, but also the populations of many of these countries. So the kind of perfect Islamic state the jihadis dream of will probably never be achieved. Therefore the Muslim world, certainly in the Middle East and North Africa, is condemned to permanent war or insurgency for the foreseeable future.

Algeria

The Front de libération nationale (FLN) had been the main force behind the long bloody war for the independence of Algeria from France. After independence was finally granted in 1962, the FLN became the party of government, instituting socialist policies and a one-party regime. Meredith lists the reasons why the FLN slowly became unpopular. Two stick out. One was that they downplayed agriculture in a bid to industrialise, keeping food prices artificially low in order to placate their constituencies in the towns and cities. The result was that life as a farmer got harder and harder, with many rural youths deciding to quit the poverty of the countryside and try their luck in the city. This is interesting because it’s an abiding theme of so many of these countries. If I could travel back in time to the early 60s and was an adviser to newly independent African nations, I’d say: ‘Cherish your farmers’. In Algeria, as everywhere else, neglecting and even undermining agriculture led to the country becoming ever more reliant on food imports.

The second is the explosion in population. I am a Darwinian materialist, a believer in the blunt facts of the environment and biology a long way before culture and politics. Thus the simple relevant fact is that the population of Algeria exploded from 10 million in 1962 to 26 million in 1992. No rate of economic growth, anywhere, could keep up with this explosion in mouths to feed and, more to the point, young men to employ.

Groups of young men hanging round on street corners become a prey to warlords and the siren call of violent revolution. This is true all round the developing world. The West supplied the medicines to developing countries which hugely improved infant mortality and recovery from illness, but without doing anything to transform a) cultural attitudes to women and childbirth or b) expand the economies. Result: lots of aimless young men looking for a cause.

Enter radical Islam which promises a better world, which gives young men a purpose, a goal, a sense of identity, and money and respect. What’s not to like, what’s not to sign up and commit your life to?

As radical Islamic parties began to appear in Algeria the military command which called the shots in the FLN tried to cancel them. After complicated manoeuvres the FLN agreed to hold free elections and Islamic parties stood in them. But when the Islamists looked like winning, the FLN abruptly cancelled the results and took back military control. The rest of the story could have been written by an AI bot. The Islamists hit back with a terror campaign, the army cracked down, arbitrarily arresting thousands, imprisonment without trial, torture etc, the Islamists ramped up their campaign, and so on.

Again, with utter inevitability, the insurgency spawned an extremist wing, the Groupe Islamique Armé (GIA). With utter predictability they started off saying they’d stick to military targets but soon found these too well protected and their attacks having less and less affect so they widened their targets. Journalists were singled out, but more and more members of the general public were also murdered. Abdelkader Hattab wrote a pamphlet titled: ‘Throat-slitting and murder until the power is God’s’ (p.457).

As in Iraq, in order to build the perfect Islamic state, it turned out to be necessary to kill lots of Muslims, first hundreds, then thousands, then tens of thousands, and eventually hundreds of thousands.

What became known as the Algerian Civil War lasted from 1991 to 2002 and led to around 150,000 deaths. Of course the economy was wrecked. Of course a lot of the best and brightest middle classes simply fled abroad.

Egypt

I visited Egypt in 1981 and then in 1995, just before Islamist terror groups began attacking tourists. Groups like Jamaat al-Jihad and Gamma Islamiyya increasingly targeted government officials, intellectuals, journalists and foreign tourists. They attacked and murdered Coptic Christians, burned Christian shops and churches, and bookshops and theatres and video stores. Farag Foda, one of Egypt’s best known writers, was shot dead. The Nobel laureate Naguib Mahfouz was knifed. ‘Throat-slitting and murder until the power is God’s’, in practice.

Then they started attacking tourists: in 1996 17 Greek pilgrims were murdered outside their hotel. In 1997 58 foreign tourists were murdered in the Valley of the Kings. Meredith tells us that a Japanese man was eviscerated and inside his stomach cavity was stuffed a note reading: ‘No to tourists in Egypt’ (p.461). Fine by me. I’m never going back to a Muslim country.

Egypt’s president, Hosni Mubarak, had come to power after the assassination of his predecessor Anwar Sadat by army Islamists in 1981. Now Mubarak set about crushing the Islamic groups ruthlessly, telling his own people and the international community that he wouldn’t let Egypt become the next Algeria. This chapter takes the story up to 2000, when Mubarak was arresting members of the Muslim Brotherhood and other Islamic organisations to prevent them standing in that year’s elections.

26. Black Hawk Down (Somalia)

The first fact about Somalia is that, at independence, about 40% of the people who thought of themselves as Somalis lived outside the borders of the country, in Ethiopia or Kenya. So from the day of independence the government neglected agriculture and the economy and focused on military action to try and extend its borders to include the full population.

Second fact is the Somalis have a strong and complex clan system, clans within clans, which extends in a hierarchy from the five main super-clans down through ever-diminishing sub-clans. So:

  1. Never-ending warfare helped impoverish the country, especially after the Soviet Union dropped its support for Somalia in favour of Mengistu’s Marxist revolution in neighbouring Ethiopia.
  2. As central government collapsed under the pressure of military defeats, poverty, famine and so on, the country disintegrated into a warzone of permanently fighting, feuding clans, at multiple levels, with warlords ruling their territories through terror.

27. The Graves Are Not Yet Full (Rwanda)

The Rwandan genocide. I’ve summarised the dreadful events elsewhere. I’ll just pick up on two related themes, mentioned re. Algeria. 1) the population of Rwanda ballooned from 2 million in 1940 to 7 million in 1990, which led to 2) lots of unemployed youths hanging around, waiting for a cause and meaning (and cash):

Youths with no prospect of work were easily recruited [into the interahamwe) with promises of land, jobs and other rewards… (p.496)

The French government of François Mitterrand comes over as the genocide-supporting scumbags indicated by all the other accounts. For example, it was the French government which refused the Belgian request to increase the number of the latter’s peacekeepers, so that Belgians ended up being forced to watch Tutsis being hacked to death in front of them but were unable to intervene. Because of France (p.510).

Mitterrand was determined to prevent a Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) victory in Rwanda even if it meant continuing to collaborate with genocidal killers. (p.519)

France made five arms shipments to the Hutu government while it was carrying out the genocide. Bastard Mitterrand sent a French force into Rwanda to protect the Hutu Power génocidaires (the equivalent of protecting the SS). Meredith tells of French soldiers slowly realising that the Hutus they had been sent to protect were in fact genocidal killers and realising that their government (Mitterrand) had lied to them. The piles and piles of Tutsi corpses were a clue. But the French government refused to allow their troops on the ground to track down and bring to justice the génocidaires hiding among the mass Hutu refugees who fled into Congo, once the Tutsi-led RPF reactivated the civil war and invaded in order to end the killing.

To the end, the French protected the organisers of the genocide. (p.522)

We’re never meant to forget the Holocaust. Well, in the same spirit, surely we should never forgive the arms and aid and support and protection the French government extended to the perpetrators of the second most horrific genocide of the twentieth century.

Mind you, Meredith goes on to paint the UN as far worse, biased towards Hutu president, Juvénal Habyarimana, ignoring reports from the Canadian commander of the UN force on the ground, UNAMIR, General Roméo Dallaire. And then the Belgian government, which withdrew their contingent altogether, abandoning thousands of Tutsis who had taken shelter in their compounds and who were hacked to pieces within hours of their abandonment (p.512). And the Americans behaved disgracefully, Bill Clinton doing everything he could to avoid using the G word (genocide) and refusing to commit troops. Everyone in a position of power in the West let the genocide happen.

More Tutsis were killed in churches than any other type of building, although a lot were killed in maternity wards where a lot had their bellies ripped open and their babies hacked to pieces before they themselves were hacked to death.

Some people still believe in the essential goodness of the human race. Such innocence is touching, charming, but dangerous.

28. Where Vultures Fly (the two Congo wars)

Who supported Mobutu after he had reduced Zaire to starving ruins? France. Why? Because he spoke French. Because he represented la francophonie. Because he represented a bulwark against the rise of the beastly English-speaking leaders such as Museveni of Uganda. France supported mass murderers and world-beating kleptocrats because their crimes were less important than the preservation of ‘French culture’ (p.525). Look at their wise and good achievements in the realm of international affairs: Vietnam. Algeria. Models of wisdom and statecraft. And Vichy, when millions of French people wholeheartedly co-operated with German Nazis whose values they enthusiastically endorsed.

This is not an exaggeration. When considering international affairs, it’s important to bear in mind what despicable depths the French establishment’s paranoid fear of the English-speaking world drives them. James Barr describes the despicable behaviour of the French in Lebanon and Syria during the Second World War:

This chapter describes how the million and a half Hutu refugees from Rwanda were crammed into refugee camps, mostly in Congo, where the Hutu Power génocidaires rebuilt their power, controlled the distribution of aid, murdered dissenting voices, kept the refugees in line with terror, while they sold some of the aid the West gave them in order to buy arms to re-invade Rwanda and resume attacking Tutsi communities.

Meredith explains how the leader of the RPF, Paul Kagame, conspired with President of Uganda Mouseveni to invade eastern Zaire, to crush the Hutu Power leaders, to force the Hutu refugees to return to their country. How they found a useful idiot from within Zaire to front the army they were creating, namely fat, stupid guerrilla turned nightclub-owner Laurent-Désiré Kabila.

The combined RPF and Ugandan army force which Kabila fronted not only liberated the Hutu refugee camps, but marched on Congo’s capital, Kinshasa, triggering the panic-stricken flight of the sick old dictator, Mobutu in 1997. In short order and to his own surprise, Kabila found himself in power and set about surrounding himself with cronies in the traditional style. Unwisely, he tried to bolster his support among the Congolese by turning on his Ugandan and Rwandan-Tutsi backers, whose forces were much resented in Kinshasa and beyond.

This policy badly backfired because when Kagame and Museveni found their puppet acting up against them, in 1998 they instituted a second invasion from the east, this time not marching but flying their forces direct to Kinshasa to overthrow Kabile. At this point, however, various outside countries began to get involved, several big ones supporting Kabile who had signed lucrative deals with them allowing them to plunder Congo’s natural resources.

This was the complex situation which led to what became known as the Great War of Africa. Slowly the country splintered into regions held by rival warlords or outside armies. A peace treaty was signed in 2002 which required armies from Rwanda, Burundi, Uganda, Angola and Zimbabwe to withdraw. In four years of chaotic conflict (1998 to 2002) some 3 million Africans had died, mostly unarmed Congolese civilians. But even after the peace treaty, fighting continued in east Congo, and continues at a low level to this day.

29. Blood Diamonds (Liberia, Sierra Leone)

Liberia

Meredith recaps the extraordinary early history of Liberia, a colony on the west coast of Africa funded in 1822 by guilt-stricken liberal Americans who wanted to return some of their slaves to the motherland. Instead, the few thousand returned Blacks ended up creating their own version of slavery, subjugating the poor locals, exploiting their labour, building homes and dressing in the elaborate nineteenth century style of their former American oppressors. Now the immigrant Blacks oppressed the locals. The Americo-Liberians amounted to no more than 1% of the population but lorded it over the indigenes.

In a neat historical irony, in 1931 an international commission found members of the entirely Black Liberian government guilty of involvement in organised slavery (p.546).

But it the story stops being in any way funny when in April 1980 Master Sergeant Samuel Doe led a coup which overturned a century of Americo-Liberian rule. Semi-literate, Doe came from a minority tribe, the Krahn, from the deep jungle. He and colleagues broke into the mansion of President William Tolbert to complain about unpaid wages. Finding him asleep in bed they shot him multiple times before disembowelling him and dumping his body in the garden. This was the coup where Tolbert’s cabinet ministers were taken down to the beach, tied to posts and shot by a squad of drunken soldiers. I remember seeing the video on the news. This set the tone of ten years of savage, primitive, ignorant, incompetent rule.

Like all stupid people, Doe thought the world revolved around him and thus saw conspiracies everywhere. His comms people publicised the idea that he had survived 38 or more assassination attempts because of his magical powers, because bullets stopped in mid-air, knives refused to cut him, and so on – fairy tales designed to appeal to the largely illiterate population.

In August 1984 Doe arrested a popular university lecturer and 15 colleagues claiming they were planning a coup. When students protested, Doe sent a troop of soldiers who opened fire indiscriminately, stripped students naked, demanded money and/or raped them (p.551). This all made me think of all Kwame Nkrumah’s speeches from the 1950s and 60s about ‘Africa for Africans’, ‘African values’, how a liberated Africa would become a beacon of progress and civilisation…

Throughout all the mayhem the US government stood by Doe, declaring his obviously rigged elections valid, overlooking his brutal massacres, upping annual aid to $80 million, and inviting him to the White House for red carpet treatment. Why? Because he was staunchly anti-Soviet. That’s all that mattered (p.555).

In November 1985 General Thomas Quiwonkpa, who had led the 1980 coup along with Doe, tried to seize power and there was premature rejoicing – until Doe managed to regain control, hunt down Quiwonkpa and have him kicked and hacked to death, followed by even harsher crackdowns on the population, which including victimisation of the entire Gio tribe which Quiwonkpa came from.

In 1989 another former colleague, Charles Taylor, led a militia into Liberia from neighbouring Ivory Coast, thus commencing a guerrilla war against Doe. Doe sent out death squads to devastate villages in the regions Taylor had seized. Taylor armed children (‘Small Boy Units’) and told them to kill everyone. The country descended into barbarity.

Bolstered by cane spirit, marijuana and cheap amphetamines, youths and boy soldiers evolved into psychopathic killers, adorning themselves with women’s wigs, dresses, fright masks and enemy bones and smearing their faces with white clay and make-up in the belief that this gave them supernatural perception…’It’s a children’s war,’ said a senior United Nations observer. ‘Kids get promoted in rank for committing an atrocity. They can cut off someone’s head without thinking. The troops move into a village. They take everything and kill and rape. They stay a couple of weeks and then move on.’ (p.558)

It’s interesting to read that many of the stoned fighters thought that wearing wigs or dresses i.e. adopting two identities, would confuse enemy bullets. Traditional African values. Reminds me of the website I found last time I was reading about this subject, a collection of photos of the surreal garb of drug-addled psychopathic militia men.

In 1989 a colleague of Taylor’s named Prince Johnson split off from Taylor’s army to set up the Independent National Patriotic Front of Liberia, with the result that Liberia became caught in a three-way civil war. Or just – war. Marauding soldiers from each side burned, looted, raped and massacred at will. Half the population fled the country. Nigeria sent a peacekeeping force which didn’t establish any kind of peace but secured a few buildings in the capital Monrovia. When Doe drove down to the port to greet them, he was captured by Prince Johnson’s men.

Johnson ordered a video to be made of his men torturing a badly battered Doe, including the moments when they sliced his ears off. The video became a bestseller across West Africa. You can watch it on YouTube and reflect on the speeches of Kwame Nkrumah explaining how African values would civilise the world.

Inevitably, the African peacekeeping force turned out to be every bit as corrupt and lawless as the militias they were sent to police, giving warlords weapons in exchange for looted goods, leading to the joke that ECOMOG stood for ‘Every Car Or Moving Object Gone’.

Taylor established control everywhere outside the capital, and came to commercial arrangements with western companies to allow trade to continue. In two years he’s estimated to have raked off £200 million from these gangster deals.

Sierra Leone

The chaos from Liberia then spilled over into neighbouring Sierra Leone. This country was already a basket case due to the 17-year, one-party rule of President Siaka Steven whose regime made a fortune trading diamonds via Lebanese dealers, while the economy languished, government employees went unpaid, and gangs of youths filled the streets looking for a cause. The usual.

The force Taylor sent into Sierra Leone in March 1991 called itself the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) and was led by the psychopath, Foday Sankoh. This was the group Anthony Loyd writes about terrifyingly in Another Bloody Love Letter. Child soldiers became a key feature of Sierra Leone’s civil war. They were given drugs, indoctrinated and taught to kill. Some had to kill their own parents as an initiation test. Some hated it, wanted to leave but were afraid of themselves being killed. But others loved it. As researchers Krijn Peters and Paul Richards concluded:

‘The pay may be derisory but weapon training pays quicker dividends than school ever did; soon the AK47 brings food, money, a warm bath and instant adult respect. The combat groups substitutes for lost family and friends.’ (quoted page 563)

Like the white overseers in King Leopold’s Congo, the RUF took to hacking off the hands and limbs of civilians, at random, purely for the terror it created. Hundreds of thousands of civilians fled their homes. A coup in the capital brought Valentine Strasser to power. He paid a firm of mercenaries, Executive Outcomes, to clear the capital Freetown in exchange for rights to the country’s diamond mines. Executive Outcomes fighters cleared Freetown in one week, testament to the shoddy, amateurish character of the African fighters on all sides.

More splinter groups, more coups, more fighting, 14 attempts at a ceasefire, tens of thousands more hand choppings and mutilations. A final ceasefire brought UN intervention. But when the UN went to seize the diamond mines, in 2000, the RUF captured 500 of its peacekeepers. It was now that Britain sent in a full battle force to release the UN troops, seize government buildings and train the SL army. Sankoh was arrested and the RUF splintered into ineffectual groups. In the wake of the British intervention, the UN deployed 18,000 troops to bring about a comprehensive peace.

Eleven years of war had left 50,000 dead, 20,000 mutilated, three quarters of the population displaced, and Sierra Leone at the bottom of the league of human development. Back in Liberia, Charles Taylor amassed a huge fortune from illegal diamond trading. His overthrow in 2003 was as violent and brutal as his coming to power, with two more factions, groups or militias murdering and raping their way to the capital. Eventually Taylor was forced out but flew peacefully to Nigeria to take up life in a comfortable retirement villa. There is no justice on earth, nothing like justice.

30. No Condition Is Permanent (Nigeria)

Meredith describes the brutal rule of General Sani Abacha, military ruler from 1993 to 1998. His crackdown on all opposition. The rise of organisations representing the Ogoni people of the oil-rich Niger Delta who had seen none of the tens of billions of oil money generated around them, only the pollution and destruction of their environment. The work of the popular writer Ken Saro-Wiwa, who was eventually arrested, accused of organising an anti-government conspiracy etc and, despite international protests, executed in November 1995.

Abachi’s death in 1998 is the opportunity for a review of how far the country had fallen. Despite annual oil revenue of $280 billion, income per head was less than a third of what it had been in 1980, at $310; half the population lived on less than 30 cents a day and had no access to clean drinking water. Half of under fives were stunted due to malnutrition. Nigeria was regularly judged to be the most corrupt country in the world.

What this litany of disasters begins to impress on even the most sympathetic reader is that Africans do not seem able of running their own countries. Catastrophic wars, epic corruption, barbaric violence resulting in crushing poverty, if the generation of independence campaigners had seen the future would they have been in such a tearing hurry to gain independence from their colonial masters?

Abachi’s death didn’t bring peace and light: the end of the military regime led to an explosion of political parties across the country, which themselves exacerbated ethnic rivalries, and also the rise of Islamic militancy, which led to clashes between Muslims and Christians. Despite free elections in 1999 and again in 2003, observers wondered whether Nigeria, a country of 120 million made up of 250 ethnic groups, was ungovernable. [That was in 2000. Nigeria’s population in 2023 has almost doubled, to 215 million.]

31. The Honour of Living (Sudan)

General Omar al-Bashir seized power in Sudan in 1989 and declared his commitment to creating an Islamic state. This was followed by the arrest of all opposition figures, torture including burning, beating and rape, the usual behaviour of leaders promising to build a better society – first you have to lock up a lot of people. 1991 saw the introduction of a new Islamic penal code: women were hounded out of public life, segregation of men and women was enforced in all public places, there was a ban on music, cinema and the compulsory Arabisation of all culture.

The ideologue of all this was Hassan al-Turabi, founder of the National Islamic Front and founder of the Muslim Brotherhood. After the first Gulf War, in 1991. Turabi set up the Popular Arab and Islamic Conference to bring together thinkers and leaders to fight back against America’s ‘colonisation’ of the Arab World. Sudan became a refuge for anti-western terrorist groups. This is very important. It marks the start of a new type of aggressive new anti-western ideology, of the war on America.

Meredith gives a good short description of the career of Osama bin Laden. In 1996 the blind cleric sheikh Omar Abdel Rahman organised the bombing of the World Trade Centre. Extremists trained in Sudan undertook assassinations and attacks across the Arab world. In 1998 activists trained by al Qaeda attacked hotels in Kenya and Tanzania, killing 263 people. Now we enter ‘the modern world’, the era we still live in in 2023, the era of unceasing conflict and Islamic insurgency across the entire Arab world.

Their Islamic ideology justified the Bashir regime in intensifying the war against southern, Black, Christian rebels. Villages were bombed, populations massacred and sold into slavery, with the blessing of Islamic scholars. The southern forces split into two parties who had a civil war between themselves in which tens of thousands of civilians died, which triggered a famine in which hundreds of thousands perished (p.594). Humans, eh? Impressive species.

Alongside massacres in the south went the discovery and exploitation of oil. The Khartoum government reaped a huge bonanza and spent it on…arms. By 2002 the civil war had left an estimated 2 million dead. But after 9/11 the Americans became active. Sudan was identified as a training base for Islamic terrorists and Bashir had to back down and promise to comply.

32. Black Gold (Angola)

The crushingly depressing history of Angola in the 1980s and 1980s, a country destroyed by an endless civil war between the supposedly ‘Marxist’ MPLA government based in Luanda, and the madly self-centred, narcissistic, overweening arrogance of Jonas Savimbi, leader of UNITA.

Land mines, aerial bombing, indiscriminate massacre, burning, looting, rape of women and children. Maybe 5 million died, many more had legs blown off by the millions of landmines, the country was laid waste – all while Eduardo dos Santos and the elite of the MPLA lived like kings by salting away the revenue derived from the huge oil deposits found just offshore. Getting on for half the annual oil revenue, billions of dollars, was stolen by dos Santos and his clique, while the children starved to death in the streets. As with Congo, or Nigeria, why give aid to oil- and resource-rich countries which have enough natural income to invest in infrastructure, roads, markets, clean water, schools, but which they either steal or spend on arms and weapons?

33. A Degree In Violence (Zimbabwe)

The slow descent into paranoid dictatorship of Robert Mugabe. I hadn’t realised that he was initially conciliatory towards the white minority, and even his arch enemy Ian Smith, for the first two or three years of his rule because his first priority was eliminating all his black rivals, starting with Joshua Nkomo and his Zimbabwe African People’s Union (ZAPU). It was called the Gukurahundi campaign (Shona for ‘the early rain which washes away the chaff before the spring rains’). During this campaign Mugabe’s notorious Fifth Brigade, trained by North Koreans, rampaged through ZAPU’s heartland, Matabeleland, and massacred thousands of civilians accused of being ‘dissidents’. Some estimates say as many as 80,000 were killed during the 5-year campaign.

Slowly Zimbabwe became like all the other African one-party states, a machine for redirecting wealth into the pockets of a small elite around the figurehead leader. As the economy collapsed and inflation and unemployment rose, so did Mugabe’s deployment of racist, anti-white rhetoric, focused on the policy of farm reclamation, seizing back land from the white farmers who owned a disproportionate amount of it. As Meredith explains, it’s all Mugabe had left, rabble-rousing racism to distract attention from the complete failure of his leadership.

Mugabe’s successive rounds of farm seizures spelled the end of commercial farming as a major industry in Zimbabwe. Many of the confiscated farms didn’t go to the deserving poor but to friends and family and tribal supporters of Mugabe, who then stripped and sold off their assets or left them to rot. Hundreds of thousands of Blacks who worked on the confiscated farms were thrown out of work. Land lay fallow. Food production collapsed. Zimbabwe, once the bread basket of southern Africa, became dependent on food aid.

By 2003 the economy had collapsed and an estimated quarter of the population had fled the country. Three-quarters of the remainder lived on less than a dollar a day. Meredith covers the coming together of opposition movements in the Movement for Democratic Change and the rise of its leader, Morgan Tsvangirai, the elections he contested in 2002 and 2008, elections Mugabe comprehensively managed with intimidation, violence and hectoring messages through state media.

Opposition activists were hunted down, beaten, tortured and in some cases murdered. (p.646)

Meredith’s narrative takes the reader up to 2008 when Mugabe, despite spending 28 years utterly devastating his country, was still in power. It was very depressing to switch to Wikipedia and see that Mugabe continued to rule the country he had ruined for another nine years, till he was overthrown in 2017.

34. Somewhere Over The Rainbow (South Africa)

The books and movies all focus on Nelson Mandela‘s long march to freedom. Not so many examine the calamitous challenges he faced on taking power in 1994: trying to reverse the best part of a century of totalitarian racism which had entrenched grotesque inequality between the affluent whites and the crushingly poor Black population; trying to integrate millions of badly educated young Africans into the economy, trying to introduce Blacks into every level of a 100% white political and civil administration and into SA’s commercial life. The army, the police, the education system, everything needed reforming.

Plus the expectations of activists at all levels who had spent a lifetime working for the ‘revolution’ which would create a land of plenty. There was an epidemic of strikes and protests or just straightforward crime. To all this Mandela had to react much like Mrs Thatcher, explaining that the state just didn’t have the resources to make everyone rich. There would have to be belt-tightening. It would take time.

Meredith has an extended passage describing the work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, how it struggled to find its way, was a compromise in nature and intent, but ended up unearthing far more than anyone expected. Its impartiality was emphasised by the way it was reviled by both sides, both stalwarts of the apartheid regime and the ANC itself, found guilty of murdering white civilians, Black opponents, of prosecuting a civil war with Inkatha, and the 400-plus victims of ‘necklacing’.

Meredith’s account of Mandela’s sustained efforts to achieve reconciliation between the races at every level bring a tear to the eye. What a hero.

His successor, Thabo Mbeki, elected unopposed to lead the ANC in 1997, was not a hero. Despite having been raised a communist, Mbeki promptly announced a set of neoliberal capitalist policies designed to boost the economy, namely strict fiscal discipline, lower government deficits, privatisation and liberalisation of state industries.

But Mbeki will go down in history as the man who adopted a minority view that HIV did not cause AIDS, promoted this view at every opportunity, refused to support AIDS awareness campaigns, refused to license anti-HIV drugs, for year after year, in the face of mounting criticism both within SA and internationally.

Mbeki insisted on playing the race card i.e. insisting that the global scientific consensus about HIV/AIDS was a racist attack on Black Africans on a par with apartheid. His obstinate refusal to allow anti-retroviral drugs to AIDS patients and pregnant women was calculated, by 2008, to have led to the premature deaths of 365,000 South Africans.

The greatest political challenge facing every nation is not to end up being led by idiots.

Mbeki undertook a more aggressive strategy of getting white businesses to include Black partners but, far from lifting the entire Black population out of poverty, this tended to enrich just the small number of educated, well-connected Blacks. The strategy developed into crony capitalism. Perceiving that they were being discriminated against, some 750,000 skilled whites just left the country, replaced by less qualified or experienced Blacks (p.679). Services decayed. Poverty grew alongside rising violent crime.

South Africa now has exceptionally high rates of murder, gender-based violence, robbery and violent conflict. It has consistently had one of the highest murder rates in the world.

Mbeki turned into a typical African leader. He created a climate of fear in the ANC. He emasculated parliament. He appointed officials for their loyalty to him, not their abilities. He shamefully supported Robert Mugabe even as Mugabe turned into a dictator and reduced his country to beggary.

And, falling into line with traditional African leaders, Mbeki and his cronies became involved in corruption, in particular creaming off hundreds of millions of dollars from state defence procurements. The ANC became split between the Mbeki faction and one led by Jacob Zuma, who himself was charged with money laundering, fraud and rape.

In 2007 Zuma stood against Mbeki and won the post of ANC leader, then stood for the presidency in 2009. The party split, but corruption became more embedded. The gap between rich and poor grew. Crime became the only way to survive for millions. After this book was completed Jacob Zuma went on to be elected president and serve from 2009 to 2018.

Incidentally, Meredith has written a series of books about South Africa, including a biography of Mandela, which explains the authoritativeness of his SA chapters:

  • In the Name of Apartheid: South Africa In The Post War Period (1988)
  • South Africa’s New Era: The 1994 Election (1994)
  • Nelson Mandela: A Biography (1999)
  • Coming to Terms: South Africa’s Search for Truth (2001)

35. Out of Africa

Decline

In 2001 the Organisation of African Unity was replaced by a new African Union. Same old dictators, though. Same corruption, same tribalism, same civil wars. Same population explosion which means half the population live below the poverty line, same huge unemployment, with millions permanently on the brink of starvation. 250 million Africans are undernourished; school enrolment is falling; life expectancy is falling. [This appears to be wrong, now; life expectancy in Africa is, apparently, 63.]

MDGs

By some estimates the West has spend £1.2 trillion in aid to Africa. There has often been little to show. In the 2000s there was a flurry of activity with the creation of the Millennium Development Goals. In 2005 Bob Geldof created a huge media event around the Live 8 campaign and gigs. But the West has donor fatigue. Pledges made under MDGs and Live 8 weren’t carried through. African countries have promised to reform and then utterly failed to do so too many times.

China

Into the breach has stepped China, which has been signing trade deals across Africa. The Forum on China-Africa Cooperation (FOCAC). By 2010 China-Africa trade had leapt to $115 billion. A million Chinese had moved to Africa.

The Arab Spring

And then, just as Meredith was completing this book, along came the Arab Spring leading to the overthrow of ageing dictators in Tunisia, Libya, Egypt and on into the Middle East i.e. Yemen, Bahrein, Syria. And yet within a few years, Egypt was back in the hands of the military, Libya had collapsed as a state, Syria fell into a ruinous civil war; only Tunisia survived and flourished as a democracy.

Kenya

Meredith ends with the calamitous recent history of Kenya, which threw out Daniel arap Moi and his cronies (known as the Karbanet syndicate) after 23 years of looting the country. However, his successor, Mwai Kibaki, merely instituted a new kleptocracy for his tribe and supporters (who came to be known as the Mount Kenya mafia). Corruption reached scandalous new heights with some $4 billion a year, or one third of the national budget, being raked off by the corrupt elite.

When Kibaki refused to accept the results of the 2007 election i.e that he had lost to opposition leader Raila Odinga, he plunged Kenya into tribal bloodshed which left thousands dead, the economy damaged and Kenya’s reputation for stability in tatters. It had become just one more African country, ruined by its corrupt rulers’ inability to cede power.

Africa’s wounds are self-inflicted. Africans have proved ruinously incapable of running their own countries. Meredith ends his book by describing the majority of Africa’s rulers as ‘vampires’ who have converted all the instruments of the state into money-making scams, who use rabble-rousing ethnic rhetoric or state terror to remain in power, while their populations slip ever backwards into poverty, sickness and starvation.

Thoughts

Some pretty obvious themes emerge from this 700-page odyssey but in the last 5 or 6 chapters something bigger than the themes struck me, which is that this is a very negative view of Africa. Often it is very harrowing and dark indeed, as when the subject matter is bleak, as in Algeria, Congo, Rwanda, Sudan, Angola.

But it took me a while to grasp how much this is a journalist’s not a historian’s or academic’s point of view of the subject. And, like all journalists, Meredith accentuates the negative. Man buys a puppy for his kids, who love it, is not news. New puppy attacks children, that is news.

I know it’s an obvious and well-known journalistic principle, but in the last 100 pages it really struck home that Meredith focuses relentlessly on the bad news, on countries with long-running wars and political crises, the ones we read about in the newspapers: Nigeria, Sudan, Angola, Zimbabwe, settings for horrible wars, massacres, genocides even. On the basis of this book it would be tempting to write all of Africa off as an irredeemable disaster zone. But there are 50 or so countries in Africa, and not all of them are having civil wars all the time. Some of them might even be doing rather well. Many people might be living ordinary lives, doing jobs, getting married, having parties. Despite the impression Meredith gives, life expectancy across Africa is actually rising.

Anyway, that was my one Big Thought: that if you only read this book you would be left with the impression that Africa is a vast abattoir of eternal massacre and mutilation, vampire leaders and epic corruption. I don’t think Meredith intends to be biased and I’m sure everything he writes is absolutely true. But by the end of his book I began to think that it’s not necessarily the complete truth, about the entire continent, and all its countries, and all the people who live in them.


Credit

The State of Africa: A History of the Continent since Independence by Martin Meredith was published in England by the Free Press in 2005. A revised edition was published by Simon and Schuster in 2011. All references are to the 2013 paperback edition.

Related links

The Battle for Syria: International Rivalry in the New Middle East by Christopher Phillips (revised edition, 2020)

There are quite a few book-length studies of the Syrian Civil War. The distinctive thing about this one is that academic and author Christopher Phillips insists that other regional countries weren’t ‘drawn into’ the conflict once it had got going but, on the contrary, were involved right from the start, helped to exacerbate the initial protests into a civil war, and then were vital elements which ensured that the war continued and has proven impossible to end. The six countries he considers the key players and interveners are the US, Russia, Turkey, Iran, Saudi Arabia and Qatar, each of whose motivations and actions are considered at great and fascinating length.

Disaster

He opens with the claim that the Syrian civil war is the greatest human disaster of the 21st century. Over 500,000 have been killed, as many as 1.9 million wounded. Over 5 million have fled the country and 6 million been internally displaced i.e. more than half the pre-war population of 21 million. By 2013 Syria had regressed 40 years in social development. By 2015 half Syria’s schools had closed, half its children didn’t attend school, over 80% of Syrians were living in poverty, 30% in abject poverty. The average life expectancy of a Syrian dropped from 70 to 55 in four years.

The Arab Spring

The Syrian civil war began as part of the Arab Spring at the start of 2011. The whole thing kicked off when Tunisian street vendor Mohamed Bouazizi set himself on fire on 17 December 2010 in Sidi Bouzid, Tunisia, as a protest against yet another act of petty harassment and humiliation inflicted on him by municipal officials, the kind of low-level harassment most people in most Arab countries have had to put up with all their lives. When news got around, Bouazizi’s act inspired street demonstrations in Tunisia which then spread west to Morocco and East to Libya, Egypt, Yemen, Jordan and Syria, and on into Bahrain and Oman in the Gulf. What all these places had in common was they were ruled by small elites run by old men who had gathered power and money to themselves, their families and followers, resulting in grossly unequal societies which, above all, had large youth unemployment.

The unrest was to lead to the overthrow of corrupt old rulers – Zine El Abidine Ben Ali in Tunisia, Muammar Gaddafi in Libya, Hosni Mubarak in Egypt. And yet the newish, youngish leader of Syria, Bashar al-Assad, managed to not only contain the protests, even as they escalated in scale and violence, but, 12 years later, is still very much in place, discredited ruler of a permanently devastated Syria. Why? This is the basic question Phillips sets out to address in this long, thorough and engrossing study. First some background.

Modern Syria

Modern Syria’s boundaries were drawn up by French politicians after the Great War when, in the light of the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, the area known as the Middle East was carved up by the victors, France and Britain. Britain got Arabia, Palestine and Iraq; the French got Lebanon and Syria.

Syria, like Lebanon, was a complex web of religious, ethnic and cultural groups, including Shia Muslims, Sunni Muslims, Christians (10%), Kurds in the north and east (10%), Alawites (a spin-off of Shia Islam; under 10%), Druze, with pockets of Turkmen and Aramaic speakers, Circassians and Armenians.

Between the wars

Syria and France negotiated a treaty of independence in September 1936 but France fell to the Nazis before it could be implemented. Syria came under the control of Vichy France until the British and Free French occupied the country in the Syria-Lebanon campaign in July 1941. The British forced the French to evacuate their troops in April 1946 and give Syria independence – events covered in James Barr’s excellent book, A Line In The Sand: Britain, France and the Struggle That Shaped the Middle East.

As in so many post-colonial countries, the parliamentary institutions left by the colonial masters were weak while the army emerged as the strongest national institution. There followed a bewildering series of coups, eight in total between 1946 and 1968. In 1958 Syria joined the United Arab Republic with Egypt but left this union in 1961 after another coup. In 1963 came the decisive coup, carried out by the Arab Socialist Ba’ath Party.

The Ba’ath party has ruled Syria as a totalitarian one-party state ever since, taking control of all aspects of education, culture and religion. It maintains its grip through the powerful Mukhabarat (secret police). In 1966 there was an intra-party rebellion against the Ba’athist Old Guard. In 1970 the last of these disruptions took place, when the formal head of state was overthrown in November 1970 by Defence Minister Hafiz al-Assad. Assad instituted a cult of personality, his face plastered on public hoardings, his voice dominating radio and TV, state propaganda declaring he and his family would rule in perpetuity. Hence political slogans such as ‘Assad or We Burn the Country’.

Brief mention of the various wars with Israel during this period, the 1973 war as a result of which Israel occupied the Golan Heights in the far south of Syria; the long series of troubles in Lebanon, namely its civil war 1975 to 1990, the Israeli invasion of 1982 and so on. Most relevant event of Hafiz’s rule was his assault on the city of Hama which was taken over in a rising led by the Muslim Brotherhood, and which he proceeded to raze to the ground, killing up to 40,000 civilians with another 100,000 deported.

Hafiz al-Assad ruled as a brutal dictator till his death from a heart attack in 2000. He groomed his oldest son, Bassel, to succeed him but Bassel died in a car crash in 1994, whereupon Assad recalled his second son, Bashir, who was studying to be an opthalmologist in London, and quickly promoted him through the ranks of the army.

There’s no time to go into detail about the troubled history of the region during Assad’s 30 years in power: enough to mention the 1973 Yom Kippur War when Syria and Egypt united to attack Israel and lost. In 1975 the civil war began in the Lebanon which Assad was closely involved in, and which was to drag on for 15 blood years. Assad deployed the Syrian army to the country, maintaining an armed presence until 2005.

The Cold War

Phillips is an academic. This means he likes to identify issues and then cite conflicting interpretations or opinions about them. Thus, he tells us, it was received wisdom that, during the long Cold War, Middle Eastern states sided with one or other of the two superpowers. Saudi Arabia, the Gulf States and Israel leaned towards America; the more Arab nationalist regimes, such as Egypt, Syria and Iraq, had stronger ties with the Soviet Union.

It’s about here in the narrative that Phillips starts to weigh rival interpretations of established narratives, citing modern scholars who claim that, contrary to Cold War conventions, the countries of the region always had their own agendas and only called on support from each super power as it suited them. Apparently it is a ‘globalist’ view to think of the Middle East as one more region in which the Superpower rivalry played out; it is the ‘regionalist’ view to say that local countries had more agency than the simple Cold War model allows. So, for example, Syria and Egypt attacked Israel in 1973 against the wishes of their Soviet sponsor; in 1982 Israel invaded south Lebanon against the wishes of its American patron (p.16).

America the only superpower in the 1990s

America has had a long ill-fated involvement in the Middle East, above all, of course, supporting Israel, making periodic attempts to find some solution to the Israeli-Palestine conflict. Phillips suggests that between the fall of the Soviet Union and the American invasion of Iraq in 2003, America was credited with having emerged as the world’s only superpower, creating a ‘unipolar’ world, and emboldening the country to intervene in conflicts such as the First Gulf War, Somalia, former Yugoslavia and so on.

Effects of the Iraq War

However, this received opinion was seriously damaged by the American invasion of Iraq in 2003 in which it slowly became clear to all the region’s countries that America was not the superpower everyone had thought it to be, far from it. America had lots of money and men but turned out to be staggeringly incompetent, and easily pinned down by local insurgencies. America’s bluff was called. The superpower was cut down to size. Phillips itemises the seriously destabilising impacts of the Iraq War:

1. Rise of Iran

Iran was the great winner of the invasion of Iraq. Saddam, a Sunni, had imposed his rule on Iraq which is a majority Shia nation. Once he was overthrown and something like democratic elections were held, then Shia parties and Shia religious leaders quickly came to the fore. Many of these had spent decades in exile in Shia Iran, owed their lives, livelihoods, rise to power to Iranian sponsors, militias, to the Iranian Revolutionary Guard. The most notable example was Nouri al-Maliki, who had been an exile in Iran and went on to become Prime Minister of Iraq from 2006 to 2014, implementing aggressively pro-Iranian, pro-Shia policies (which helped to stoke the Sunni resistance). At every level Iraqi political life came to be dominated by Shia Iran.

2. The Kurds become players

Except for the Kurds, who lived in and, as a result of the overthrow of Saddam, got to run the northern third of Iraq. The Kurdish guerrilla movements had fought Saddam Hussein throughout his brutal rule (1968 to 2003). As Iraq sank into sectarian civil war (Shia against Sunni) the Kurds effectively sealed off their northern part of the country from the madness of the Arab south. The success of the Kurds in Iraq emboldened their brother groups and militias in Syria and Turkey.

3. Saudi Arabia stirs

Back to Iran: the rise of Iranian power and influence in Iraq sparked paranoia among Sunni states, none more so than Saudi Arabia. About 15% of Saudi’s population is Shia, mostly living in its eastern provinces which, coincidentally, is also where the oil is. Through the 1970s, 80s and 90s the Saudi regime was happy to fund Saddam Hussein who acted as a Sunni barrier against Iranian ambitions. They funded his long ruinous war against the new Iranian Islamic revolutionary regime, the Iran-Iraq war 1980 to 1988. Phillips calls it a policy of ‘dual containment’. However, Saddam burned his boats when, having brought his country to the brink of bankruptcy, he invaded Kuwait in 1990, thus forfeiting the aid he’d been receiving from Saudi and the Gulf states.

Since Saddam was removed in 2003, Saudi has found itself combating the ever-growing influence of the regional superpower, Iran. Phillips points out that it’s not just power, or the Shia religion, that threaten the Saudis, but the fact that revolutionary Iran embodies a radically different political model. The Saudis are run by an old-style hereditary monarchy, conservative and repressive. Iran presents a completely different religio-political model, with far larger elements of democracy and popular say. This model represents a threat to the Saudi model (p.19).

The rise of the Saudi-Iranian rivalry was perhaps the most dramatic regional shift caused by the Iraq war… (p.20)

4. Rising sectarianism

Talk of Saudi and Iran raises the issue of Muslim sectarianism i.e. the radicalisation of religion. The Americans converted Iraq from being a secular dictatorship which kept a tight check on religious extremism into a hotbed for all kinds of Islamic fanaticism (p.22). Al Qaeda moved into Iraq and grew hugely, countless other sectarian militias were set up and carried out brutal ethnic cleansings. Then, in the early chaos of the Syrian civil war, ISIS arose, mostly led by former Al Qaeda in Iraq soldiers, themselves former officers in Saddam’s army, made homeless when Paul Bremer sacked the entire Iraqi Army.

Why the Arab Spring failed in Syria

Phillips doesn’t make the comparison with Libya but I find if pretty obvious. The Libyans managed to get rid of their dictator, Muammar Gaddafi, but failed to replace him with one unitary government; instead Libya has collapsed into two rival governments because the opposition wasn’t strong or united enough to enforce unity. Same with Syria. There was much opposition to Assad’s regime but a) it was very split along regional, ethnic and sectarian lines and b) the regime managed to keep support from a wide enough range of groups, probably, in the end, the majority of the population which, although not keen on Assad’s repressive regime, feared the alternative i.e. chaos.

For this fear of chaos was another legacy of the Iraq War. Assad simply had to remind his people what had happened next door, in neighbouring Iraq, when an established dictator was overthrown i.e. chaos, sectarian massacre, ethnic cleansing and civil war. Probably the entire Alawi population rallied behind him (10 to 13%), as did the Orthodox Christian minority (8%). The Kurds took the opportunity to rebel but that just reinforced conservative fears that the rebellion would lead to the country’s collapse.

As I understand it, the one key decider for the fate of Arab Spring protests was whether the army and security services went over to the protesters or not. In Tunisia and Egypt they did and the old rulers were overthrown. In Libya it was a split, some did, some didn’t and the country collapsed. In Syria, the army and the network of security services referred to as the Mukhabarat was closely allied with Assad and remained loyal.

As to the splits in the Syrian opposition, this reached almost ludicrous levels, with virtually every town and village in rebel areas setting up their own councils, while a congeries of umbrella groups made up of exiled politicians, based in Turkey, Saudi or Qatar, fought to claim leadership of the movement. Phillips has one hugely telling statistic. At the peak of confusion in the Lebanon Civil War there were some 30 identifiable named militias; whereas, by 2013, a US centre identified 1,050 anti-Assad brigades and 3,250 smaller companies (p.127). It was, and is, like herding sheep.

The Kurds

For a century the Kurds in Iran, Iraq, Syria and Turkey have been seeking, in one form or another, some kind of autonomy if not a self-ruling state. The Kurds make up to 10% of the population of Syria, about 10% of the population of Iran, 18% of Turkey and 20% of Iraq. But as well as engaging in permanent conflict with the Turkish army, enduring periodic genocidal assaults by Assad in Syria and especially Saddam in Iraq, the Kurds have often been divided among themselves.

Phillips gives a clear account of the confusing manoeuvring of Kurdish groups on page 111. In May a Kurdish National Movement was formed which brought together 17 different political parties including the Democratic Union Party or PYD, Syria’s branch of the long-established Kurdish separatist party, the PKK. This broke down because of PYD demands and was replaced in October by the Kurdish National Council, which was more enduring but only contained 10 of the original 17 groups and not the PYD.

The PYD’s militia was named the People’s Defense Units or the YPG. When Assad forces withdrew from some areas held by the YPG, other Kurdish groups and Gulf backers accused it of being in league with Assad, something it strongly denied.

When the Syrian National Council was formed in August 2011 as an umbrella for opposition groups it refused to remove the word ‘Arab’ from its motto of calling for a ‘Syrian Arab Republic’, thus prompting a walkout by the Kurdish delegates. Despite repeated attempts at mediation both sides have refused to compromise. So you get the picture. It is with the Kurds, as with the Arabs in general, a picture of endless bickering disagreement.

Not only this but there is interference from Kurds outside Syria. The collapse of the state in Iraq led to the creation of a Kurdish autonomous area in northern Iraq, but rule of this was contested between the Iraqi branch of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), a hard-core Marxist-Leninist guerrilla movement, and the Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP), a much more conservative nationalist movement, led by Masoud Barzani. So, very broadly speaking, the Kurds were at odds with their Arab partners in the opposition to Assad, and were also divided among themselves.

ISIS

However, the Kurds received a boost in 2014 after the catastrophic fall of Mosul, the main city in northern Iraq, to Islamic State, because this triggered the Americans to become involved. Barack Obama’s administration refused to intervene in the war against Assad but was prepared to give direct support to the YPG in its battles against ISIS. The Americans supplied and organised the fierce campaign, fought 2016 to 2017, to seize back the city of Raqqa in north-eastern Syria, which had become the Islamic State’s de facto capital.

Turkey

The situation of the Kurds is, of course, complicated by numerous external factors, the most obvious of which is that Turkish governments of all flavours remain vehemently opposed to the slightest flicker of Kurdish independence and so have declared the YPG a terrorist organisation, in this respect aligning it with the much more long-established Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), which actually has carried out terrorist attacks, for example, on police stations, in Turkey.

It was concern about the ‘infection’ of Kurdish independence spreading from Kurdish autonomous regions which led Turkey to invade and occupy key areas in the north of Syria, where Turkish forces remain to this day.

Outside forces

1. US

Barack Obama was US President 2009 to 2017. The criticism made of his foreign policy was that he was too optimistic (thought other leaders were as rational and consensual as him) and believed America had more power than the Iraq invasion showed that it actually does.

Regarding Syria, Phillips records how the Obama administration, after initial caution, moved by August 2011 to call for Assad to go. This was what Phillips calls a ‘conflict escalator’: it misled everyone. It misled the Russians and everyone in the region into thinking America might be about to intervene (as in Libya) to arm the opposition and force Assad’s overthrow; thus stiffening Russia’s support for Assad. It stiffened the resolve of opposition groups who thought America would soon come riding to their rescue. It stiffened the resolve of the Assad regime hard-liners who thought they had nothing to lose by behaving more brutally.

Then there’s the issue of intelligence and leverage. America had been bankrolling the Egyptian state for 50 years or so, paying for its food and bankrolling its army. Therefore America had many levers to pull when they decided it was time for long-serving Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak (president from 1981 to 2011) to go.

But the Americans then mistakenly thought they would have the same kind of influence in Syria which, on the contrary, was a) a much more closed repressive regime than Egypt b) had been a Soviet client state since the Ba’ath took power. I.e. the Americans found it easy to topple Mubarak, impossible to topple Assad.

In 2012 Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and head of the CIA David Petraeus presented a plan to vet, train and equip opposition groups (p.143). Obama rejected it and some critics said ever afterwards that this was a lost opportunity to give the rebels the boost they needed to overthrow the dictator and a decade of misery would have been prevented. Phillips, here as everywhere, is enjoyably measured and balanced. He presents the counter-arguments that a) however much the US had given rebel groups events went on to show that Russia and Iran would have matched and superseded it; b) though Clinton et al reassured the Prez that the arms would only go to the good guys and not fall into the hands of ‘extremists’, they would have c) America spent a fortune vetting, training and equipping the police force and armies in both Iraq and Afghanistan who turned out to be either criminally corrupt or simply fled at the first sign of trouble. Seems to me Obama was right to be sceptical about everything to do with discredited foreign adventures.

2. Russia

Dmitry Medvedev, president of Russia 2008 to 2012, prime minister of Russia 2012 to 2020. Vladimir Putin president 2012 to the present. Russia had multiple motives. The Soviet Union had strongly supported Assad’s father, providing weapons and training, though this legacy wasn’t decisive. Similarly, Russia had trade ties with Syria but not as extensive as with Turkey or Iraq.

In 2011 there were protests in Moscow against Putin being elected Russian president yet again so Putin had a vested interest against the Arab Spring popular revolts. A bigger motive was blocking further US influence in the region. In a rare moment the UN Security Council approved armed intervention i.e. air attacks, to support the rebels in Libya; Russia blocked any similar gestures in Syria. If the principle of replacing unpopular/unjust leaders is allowed, it might at some point be used to justify overthrowing Putin himself.

Lastly, anti-jihadism. Fourteen per cent of the population of Russia is Muslim. Putin presented his murderous wars in Chechnya as campaigns against Islamic jihadism. Supporting secular Assad could be presented in the same light as standing up against jihadism, something which became easier when al Qaeda and then ISIS moved in.

There’s another interpretation, which is that Russia had precious little influence over the Assad regime, but shrewdly bet it would be difficult to oust, and gambled on its endurance. Then, once committed, and having been criticised in the West and the Arab world fir its support, it became a matter of prestige, sticking to its guns.

3. Turkey

The leading figure in Turkish politics for the last 20 years has been Recep Tayyip Erdoğan who was prime minister of Turkey from 2003 to 2014, president of Turkey from 2014 to the present.

Turkey began to change its attitude to its neighbours in the Middle East after Erdoğan’s Justice and Development Party (the AKP) was elected to government in 2002. The AFK launched a pivot away from the West (and from the secular policies of Turkey’s modern founder, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk), encouraging Islam and engaging more with its neighbours in the region (pages 35 and 70).

In this spirit Erdoğan set out to overcome decades of enmity with Syria – Turkey had for decades been part of NATO while Syria was firmly in the Soviet sphere of influence. Thus he cultivated a friendship with young Bashar, even flying to Damascus to sign a free trade agreement in 2004.

Turkey’s longest land border is with Syria (566 miles) so the two countries had a vested interest in coming to agreements about trade, crossing points and the vexed issue of water supply.

However, when the protests began at the start of 2011, and especially when Assad’s regime began to crack down, Erdoğan was quick to criticise the regime. By July Turkey was harbouring the group which announced itself as the Free Syrian Army. Erdoğan continued to try to persuade Assad to stand down behind the scenes, but by September had given up and in November made his first speech publicly calling for Assad to go and comparing him to Hitler (p.72).

Phillips suggests a number of reasons for this volte-face. One was that Erdoğan felt personally let down by Assad’s behaviour, and then chagrined that he turned out to have so little influence over him. Second reason is Erdoğan’s Muslim faith and his policy of making Turkey a more Muslim country. Much of the opposition to Assad was Islamic in nature and devout Muslims turning against a secular-militarist regime in Syria exactly mirrored what the AFK was doing in Turkey, trying to dismantle the military, Kemalist ‘Deep State’ in order to make Turkey more Islamic.

Lastly, Erdoğan is a populist and he wanted to make Turkey a leader in the region by appealing directly to the people, to ‘the street’. Hence his support of the Arab Spring revolts, and hence his quick realisation that his position would be jeopardised by association with a man who was hell-bent on turning into a genocidal tyrant (Assad). (This, for example, explains Erdoğan’s recent speeches in support of Hamas; all part of his ongoing campaign to make Turkey leader of the Arab ‘street’, with Erdogan still polling as the most popular leader for Arab youths.)

The situation quickly became very complex but three major facts emerge: 1) Turkey has taken over 4 million Syrian refugees, at obvious cost and burden; 2) Erdoğan remains implacably opposed to the Kurdish forces in Syria and any attempt to set up an independent Kurdish entity; 30 despite much criticism, Turkey appears to have supported al-Nusrah and ISIS, the two most extreme jihadist groups.

4. Saudi Arabia

Salman bin Abdulaziz Al Saud has been King of Saudi Arabia since 2015 and was Prime Minister of Saudi Arabia from 2015 to 2022. Mohammed bin Salman Al Saud, known as MBS, is Crown Prince and Prime Minister of Saudi Arabia.

For decades Saudi worked behind the scenes and kept a low profile. The Iraq War changed that by significantly boosting Iran’s reach and influence. The Saudis perceived the rise and rise of Iran as a threat to be countered, so when the Arab Spring came along in 2011, they reacted in two ways. They were, in general, against populist uprisings because they feared something similar might happen in their own tightly controlled kingdom. And they were against the kind of radical jihadism which had struck several times within the kingdom (p.120). Nonetheless, the biggest decider for the Saudis in Syria was Assad’s traditional alliance with Iran. Being anti-Iran meant they were anti-Assad, and so the Saudis from very early on a) supported anti-Assad forces and b) jostled with Qatar to take control of, host and organise the anti-Assad opposition.

Saudi Arabia is run by a large extended family which have created a complex bureaucracy. Part of the reason it likes ‘leading from the back’ is because it often takes a while to develop a policy position. Compare and contrast smaller, nimbler, quicker Qatar.

5. Qatar

When the war broke out Qatar was ruled by Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani. He abdicated in 2013 in favour of his son, Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani, who is current Emir of Qatar. Qatar has developed, over the past two decades, increasingly ambitious plans to be a player in the region. A central symbol of this was the establishment of the Al Jazeera 24-hour news channel in 2006.

Qatar took the lead in the Arab League in the overthrow of Gaddafi in Libya, which gave it an inflated sense of its own power, and its ability to sway the West. Its rulers thought they could pull off the same thing in Syria (p.135).

Phillips not only explains how Saudi and Qatar developed new foreign policies in the aftermath of the Iraq War, he goes on to explain in immense detail, the rivalry and jostling between the two states to support, host and finance the Syrian opposition and how this had the unintended consequence of further splitting and dividing an already highly fractured opposition.

After an initial optimistic moment in 2012, the intervention of the two rival Gulf states had the net effect of making whoever they nominated as leaders of the opposition seem just that, external nominees with little support in Syria itself (p.117). It was damaging and promoted factionalism (p.124).

Qatar supported the Muslim Brotherhood, Saudi Arabia loathed it. Thus Qatar was livid when Riyadh backed the Egyptian military’s overthrow of the Muslim Brotherhood government in Cairo, in July 2013 (p.193).

6. Iran

Iran supported Assad with money, munitions, men and loans, with food and oil for his population. Most importantly Iran lent Assad Qassem Sulemanei, a senior officer in the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, from 1998 until his assassination in 2020 commander of the Quds Force, an IRGC division primarily responsible for extraterritorial and clandestine military operations. According to Phillips Sulemanei was responsible for organising Shia militias in Iraq in their insurgencies against the occupying US forces. Therefore, on the one hand, he had immense experience at organising armies for asymmetrical warfare. On the other hand, the Iranians found the command structures of Assad’s security forces less controllable than they expected.

Sulemanei brought in experienced fighters and officers from Hezbollah, Iran’s proxy force in Lebanon, to strengthen and organise the National Syrian Army which was felt to be weak and undisciplined by comparison.

At its most extreme some critics accused Iran of effectively annexing Syria and keeping Assad on as a figurehead. But Phillips rejects this theory, stating that Assad was always his own man, irritating his Iranian patrons by his obstinacy.

(Israel)

Israel was never a player in the Syrian civil war like the six countries described above. Israel had been enemies with Syria since the latter was one of the Arab nations who attacked the new state at its inception in 1948. Syria then lost the Golan Heights neighbouring north Israel in the 1967 war and failed to retrieve them in 1973.

That said, Assad father and son were content to mostly keep the peace with Israel, preferring to work through proxies in civil war-torn Lebanon. When the protests broke out in Syria in spring 2011 and as the situation deteriorated into civil war, Israel’s position was relatively straightforward: a civil war in Syria kept all its enemies nicely tied up, so Israel was content to watch and not intervene.

The worst case scenario for Israel was the overthrow of Assad by either an Iranian-backed Shia regime (disaster), or a militant Sunni regime (bad), either of which would feel tempted to attack Israel to appease their domestic constituencies. But as the protests turned to conflict and this descended into chaos, it suited Israel for the civil war to be dragged out indefinitely (p.174). Over the 12 years of the war Israel has mostly limited its interventions to local air strikes on what they thought were transports of missiles to Hezbollah forces along their northern border, or the occasional targeted assassination of Hezbollah leaders.

The same continues to be the case in light of this new Gaza Crisis i.e. Israel wants to keep its northern border quiet in order to finish off Hamas (if it can).

An academic study

Phillips is very much the academic, being Professor in International Relations at Queen Mary College, University of London. Sometimes academic studies can be a bad thing and Phillips’s book is certainly dry and schematic instead of dramatic and journalistic. But in his case it’s a good thing. The war quickly developed into a multi-player game of 12-D chess, with a confusing array of forces both inside and outside Syria, whose positions continually changed and evolved i.e. it is fiendishly mind-bogglingly complicated. So I liked the clarity with which Phillips presented the positions and interests of all the different parties: it was like a series of PowerPoint slides, clear and logical.

Actually, more than that, on each slide he does the academic thing of presenting all the reasons for an interpretation (action or decision) and then all the reasons against and I found this very neat and satisfying. It is like a series of hundreds of little academic debates. Could the Kofi Annan peace plan ever have worked? Could the opposition have been organised quicker and more effectively but for the rivalry of Saudi Arabia and Qatar? Might early pressure from Russia have forced Assad to the negotiating table? Phillips notes hundreds of decision points on the journey into anarchy, describes them lucidly, and then assesses with logic and clarity.

It’s quite a hard book to read because it is so dry, and because the situation is so bewilderingly complicated: by about page 150 I was drowning in names and acronyms, and sometimes struggling to focus on his many balanced analyses of the pros and cons of the positions adopted by scores of different countries, leaders, foreign secretaries, armies, militias and so on. It’s a lot to take in and process. But ultimately very worthwhile. I enjoyed it and I respected Phillips’s approach.

Papers and studies

Throughout the text Phillips cites academic studies, papers and theories and some of these are worth recording. He cites the work of J. Michael Greig on civil wars which suggests that peace cannot be achieved until both sides reach ‘a hurting stalemate’ and that this doesn’t occur until about 130 months of fighting and 33,000 deaths (pages 102 and 192).

Russia steps up

The second edition of Phillips’s book was completed in mid-2020. From 2015 to 2020 I had the impression that events moved faster than in the first four years of complex stalemate.

The key turning point in Phillips’s account appears to be Putin’s full-on despatch of Russian forces to Syria in September 2015, the first time Russian forces had been outside the territory of the old Soviet Union since the end of the Cold War. Relations with the US had tanked after Russia annexed the Crimea in March 2014. Russian troops expanded old Soviet bases and runways and the Mediterranean port it had used in the olden days. Russia then mounted air strikes which it claimed to the world were against ISIS but as often as not were against other anti-Assad forces. It was able to assume a dominant role vis-a-vis its nominal partner, Iran. And having boots on the ground brought it into dangerous proximity with Turkish forces as the latter took an increasingly pro-active role, with a limited incursion in 2016 followed by a full-scale invasion of north Syria in 2019. This move, codenamed Operation Peace Spring, was designed to expel Kurdish forces from Turkey’s neighbour and create a 20 mile deep buffer zone. The Turkish aim was also to relocate some of the nearly 4 million Syrian refugees who had taken refuge in their country. Both attacking the ‘terrorist’ Kurds and resettling refugees were domestically popular policies in Turkey, but the brutality of the incursion brought condemnation and sanctions from the West, and Turkish and Russian forces came close to blows until Putin and Erdoğan signed a deal for join patrolling of some of the seized areas.

Anyway, from the Russian intervention of September 2015 onwards, the story speeds up with Assad’s forces, backed by Russia or Iran, slowly retaking key towns and cities and reasserting control in the most populous west of the country; Idlib in the north becoming a sort of safe haven for opponents, where those who surrendered in cities like Aleppo were bussed; uncertainty about how long Turkey will continue to occupy a strip of northern Syria as a ‘buffer zone’; and the fate of the sparsely populated east of the country, liberated by American and Kurdish forces, remains uncertain.

Summary

Having detailed events and turning points up to 2020, Phillips ends his text with a summary of winners and losers, mainly losers:

Turkey

Turkey’s goal of promoting itself as a regional ‘hegemon’ (power) has been ‘shredded’ (p.305). The ‘buffer zone’ Turkey created along its southern border also acts as a physical barrier to greater involvement in the region. The war:

  • resulted in at least 3.5 million Syrian refugees
  • increased domestic terrorism by ISIS and the PKK, who have reignited their violent campaign in eastern Turkey
  • helped a shift towards more autocratic government by Erdoğan

Qatar

Qatar is worse off as a result of the war. Its domestic situation is stable as is its alliance with the US, but:

  • its initial success backing the rebels in Libya soon came to be tarnished by the collapse of the Libyan state
  • it support for the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt came to an abrupt end in 2013 when the MB government was overthrown in a military coup
  • Qatar was eclipsed as main Arab sponsor of the Assad opposition by Saudi Arabia
  • relations with its Gulf neighbours reached a nadir when, in 2017, Saudi and the United Arab Emirates, along with Egypt and Bahrain, cut diplomatic ties with Qatar and imposed a trade and travel ban

The outcome was the opposite of the region-bestriding influence Qatar had hoped to project after its successful support of the opposition in Libya in 2011.

USA

Barack Obama wanted to turn the page on the Bush wars and he succeeded in resisting siren calls for a full-on engagement against Assad in early and mid-2011. No more occupying Middle Eastern countries, good. When he did intervene it was in specific areas to help specific allies (the Kurds) destroy ISIS and, when that goal was more or less accomplished, he withdrew. I admire Obama for this.

But critics say he was responsible for a massive diminution of America’s reputation in the region. All the opposition groups were disappointed, as were regional allies such as Turkey and especially Saudi Arabia, by America’s failure to intervene. America’s limited intervention opened the space for the expansionism of Iran but especially of Russia.

Trump was worse. Despite claiming to be the opposite of everything Obama represented, Trump, following his instinctive isolationism, had the same general effect of undermining American authority and fostering a more multipolar Middle East. More chaotic, harder to control. Hence lots of articles like this:

Saudi Arabia

Experienced a mild succession crisis with the death of King Abdullah in 2015 but, in the event, he was smoothly succeeded by Salman and his activist son, Mohammed bin Salman. But MBS, as he’s known, hasn’t found foreign policy as easy as he thought. Saudi:

  • failed in its aim of overthrowing Assad
  • failed in its aim of stemming Iranian influence (although supporting the opposition in the field ensured that Iran drained its coffers supporting the regime and Hezbollah)
  • has found it difficult to end the civil war in Yemen which it exacerbated (the Saudis support Yemeni president Abdrabbuh Mansur Hadi’s government against the Houthi rebels who are supported by Iran; it’s a proxy war between the two, as is Syria)

Iran

On the plus side, Iran:

  • preserved the Assad regime and hugely increasing its say and influence in Syria
  • which meant also securing a land route to supply its proxy in Lebanon, Hezbollah
  • maintained sway over Iraq
  • three developments which go towards creating a crescent of Iranian influence from Iran, through Iraq, through Syria and into Lebanon

On the downside, Iran likes to project itself as a defender of all Muslims but its defence of Alawite Assad, using Shia Hezbollah, and fighting against the numerous Sunni opposition groups, badly damaged that unifying goal. Also, all this came at a large economic cost, exacerbated by ongoing US and Western sanctions (some about Syria, some ongoing squabbles about Iran’s nuclear programme).

Israel

Israel managed to keep out of the war and to stop it spilling over onto its territory, by a) coming to selective agreements with rebels holding the Golan Heights, b) by launching selective strikes against Hezbollah, with Russian acquiescence (after personal meetings and negotiations between Netanyahu and Putin, which Phillips describes in fascinating detail).

Russia

Russia is arguably the biggest winner from the Syrian civil war. Russia:

  • secured domestic security from Islamic terrorism (Russia was happy to see thousands of jihadis from the Central Asian republics head off to Syria to be killed)
  • continued to expand its economic reach into the Middle East
  • boosted its regional credentials at the expense of waning US power

However, with no end in sight to the war, there are questions about how long Russia can continue to pour aid into a broken country, and Syria is unlikely to ever become a profitable trading partner.


Credit

The Battle for Syria: International Rivalry in the New Middle East by Christopher Phillips was first published by Yale University Press in 2016. References are to the revised paperback edition, published 2020.

Related reviews

ISIS: The State of Terror by Jessica Stern and J.M. Berger (2015)

Asymmetrical warfare is defined by asymmetry. Any terrorist ideology that can attract five recruits and the contents of their bank accounts can make headlines for months. A terrorist group with twenty recruits and half a million dollars can make headlines for years.
(ISIS: State of Terror, page 191)

ISIS is the crack cocaine of violent extremism, all of the elements that make it so alluring and addictive purified into crystal form. (p.235)

This book comes highly recommended as ‘a timely account’ and ‘the most important account’ of ISIS, but suffers from the same shortcoming as half the other books I’ve been reading about the Iraq-Afghanistan-al Qaeda turmoil, which is that it’s way out of date. My fault, obviously, not theirs.

It contains an admirably detailed chronology but it only goes up to November 2014. At many points, the authors say things like, ‘At the time of writing it looks like ISIS will…’, ‘It looks like ISIS might…’ expand and hold more territory, or maybe buckle after sustained attack by the US and its allies…they don’t know.

This is irritating because, in a sense, the most interesting thing about ISIS was the international campaign to extirpate it which only got underway in 2014/15 as this book was being finalised and published. Well, more fool me for buying a book which is nearly ten years old, although I can’t find anything more recent on Amazon.

ISIS

As usual, it’s easiest to go to Wikipedia for the basic facts:

The Islamic State (IS; as of 2014), also known as the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL; in 2013) or Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) is a transnational militant Islamist terrorist group and former unrecognized quasi-state that follows the Salafi jihadist branch of Sunni Islam. It was founded by Abu Musab al-Zarqawi in 1999 and gained global prominence in 2014, when it drove Iraqi security forces out of key cities during the Anbar campaign, which was followed by its capture of Mosul in Iraqi Kurdistan, and the Sinjar massacre. The organization significantly influenced the course of the Syrian civil war when it announced its expansion into Syria in mid-2013 and began conducting ground attacks against both Syrian government forces and Syrian opposition militias. By the end of 2015, it held an area that contained an estimated eight to twelve million people and stretched from western Iraq to eastern Syria, where it enforced its interpretation of Islamic law. ISIL was estimated at the time to have an annual budget of more than US$1 billion (much derived from control of oil revenue from captured refineries) and more than 30,000 fighters.

The authors start by giving a straightforward chronological account of the rise of Islamic State out of its predecessor organisation, al Qaeda in Iraq (up to the time of writing, in late 2014). Then they go back and retread the same path or narrative but focusing on particular themes, such as the role of foreign fighters and of women; chapters on ISIS’s use of promotional videos and social media; on the complicated struggle to win over followers of al Qaeda and other jihadist groups, not only in the Arab heartland but further afield in the Maghreb and North Africa. They have a chapter on the long-term psychological aims of ISIS, which they consider is to produce a society of dehumanised psychopaths, which partly explains their conscious policy of training child soldiers, forcing them to witness beheadings and whip or shoot prisoners. There is a very interesting chapter about how ISIS’s belief that it is operating in the end time before an apocalyptic Final Battle underpins all aspects of its worldview. And the book concludes with some suggestions about how we in ‘the West’ should manage and contain ISIS.

Names

The group grew out of al Qaeda in Iraq (AQI). When it formally asserted its independence in 2013 it was under an Arabic name which can be translated as the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL) or Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS). ISIS was the version picked up by most western media outlets, maybe because it has a certain zip and cachet as a word.

In June 2014 the group proclaimed itself to be a worldwide caliphate, a restoration of transnational Islamic rule, and began referring to itself as the Islamic State (IS) and this is the position and the name it retains to the present day. However, the authors, after some discussion, decided to use the earlier name, ISIS for two reasons: a) it is familiar from lots of press coverage b) it is challenging, and silly, in English, to continually write sentences which include ‘IS is…’ ISIS is an easier acronym to manage: ‘ISIS is, ISIS was’ etc.

ISIS leaders

1. ISIS was ‘founded’ by Abu Musab al-Zarqawi in 1999 and led by him until his death in an American air strike in 2006. In fact this history is deeply contested, as the group Zarqawi founds was called Jama’at al-Tawhid wal-Jihad and, in 2004, after he pledged allegiance to Osama bin Laden, he was appointed chief of al-Qaeda in Iraq (AQI). In other words, he was killed before an organisation specifically named ISIS came into being. It is analysts and commentators who claim that the doctrines he practiced in AQI and its extremist policies of a) attacking other Muslims b) in particular attacking Shia Muslims and shrines c) attacking Western operations previously all considered off-limits e.g the United Nations and aid charities – these policies were disapproved of by bin Laden and others in al Qaeda Central but proved attractive and mobilising for the cadres of extremist Sunni jihadists who went on to form ISIS.

2. Zarqawi’s role was taken by Abu Omar al-Baghdadi, leader of the militant groups Mujahideen Shura Council and its successor, the Islamic State of Iraq, until he, too, was killed in an American missile strike in 2010.

3. He was succeeded by Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi. He is recorded as the second Emir or prince of the Islamic State of Iraq from 2010 to 2013. In 2014 ISIS declared the existence of an actual state, the Caliphate, which governed a large part of eastern Syria and western Iraq, and Baghdadi was declared first caliph of this Islamic State, which he ruled until he blew himself up during an American raid in October 2019.

4. A week later IS’s media outlets announced that the new caliph was Abu Ibrahim al-Hashimi al-Qurashi. For a while there was debate about whether this person actually existed or was a fictional front man hurriedly invented by IS leadership. Having lost almost all the territory they held at their maximum reach, in 2016, ISIS were reduced to traditional insurgent attacks, but made significant advances through partner groups in Africa; new branches were opened in Congo and Mozambique. On 3 February 2022, al-Qurashi killed himself and members of his family by triggering a large bomb during a raid by the US Joint Special Operations Command.

In May 2022 ISIL’s West Africa Province said that it had killed 20 Nigerian Christian men in Borno State in a mass execution as a retaliation for al-Qurashi’s assassination. And so it goes on forever, the ideology of massacre, murder and vengeance.

5. Replaced by the third caliph of Islamic State, Abu al-Hasan al-Hashimi al-Qurashi, as confirmed by Al-Furqan Media foundation, Islamic State’s primary media outlet, 10 March 2022. As usual there was a lot of mystery about his true name and identity. In November 2022 it was confirmed that he killed himself by detonating a suicide vest during an operation carried out by former Free Syrian Army rebels.

6. He was replaced in November 2022 by the fourth caliph, Abu al-Hussein al-Husseini al-Qurashi. There are now some 40 IS provinces i.e. regional operations, throughout the Middle East and far into Africa. On 30 April 2023 Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan announced that the Turkish National Intelligence Organization had tracked down and killed Abu al-Hussein the previous day, on 29 April, but this has not been confirmed by the US, who we tend to trust more, nor confirmed by ISIS itself. Schrödinger’s caliph…

The differences between al Qaeda and ISIS

According to the authors the fundamental difference with al Qaeda was that the latter was an elite intellectual movement (pages 55, 192), whereas ISIS set out to be a popular mass movement. Al Qaeda was a sect or cult; they made joining it very difficult, starting with being difficult to track it down or contact it, then you had to go through tests or proofs of fitness. ISIS’s approach was diametrically opposite: it set out to create a utopian new society and advertised for as many members and volunteers  as possible (p.73). ISIS made promotional videos and posted messages on twitter and Instagram. Muslim equivalents of the old Lord Kitchener poster, ‘Your country needs you’. The ISIS message was:

You have a place here, if you want it, and we’ll put you to work on this exciting project just as soon as you show up (p.73)

ISIS’s brand, its offering, was a unique combination of extreme violence – horror violence – with promises of a new life and a new world. al Qaeda had a lofty spiritual goal of eventually reaching a new Islamic world at some point far over the horizon. In this respect, its entire worldview was fundamentally defeatist (p.195). ISIS, in its blunt and practical way, declared the brave new world was here and now (pages 118, 195).

Al Qaeda worked on the premise, familiar to us from the revolutionary Marxist terrorists of the 1970s (the Baader-Meinhof Gang, the Red Brigades in Italy) that the masses are slumbering in a sleep of ignorance (p.55). If only you can wake them from their conformist slumber with acts of sufficient outrage and transgression, they would suddenly wake from their slumber, realise that the terrorists were right and that they need to throw off the shallow western consumer capitalist culture which exploits them, overcome their oppressors and institute a new communist/Islamic utopia.

Same here. al Qaeda thought the right kind of terrorist outrage would trigger a mass awakening of the Muslim masses who would suddenly realise that Osama bin Laden was right, the infidel needed to be kicked out of Muslim lands and a new, purified Islamic rule established. But ISIS thought they had achieved that, in the huge swathe of territory they captured 2014 to 2016.

Stern and Berger have a fascinating chapter describing the development of ISIS’s management of traditional and social media. Again, they contrast the very different subject matter and tone between al Qaeda and ISIS productions. al Qaeda’s rhetoric was all about Muslim powerlessness and victimhood. bin Laden lamented how Muslim lands were crushed and downtrodden, in the grip of corrupt leaders in hock to Western powers, the infidel. It was a discourse stemming from the apparently complete grip Western-backed leaders held over the Muslim world, and al Qaeda’s embattled, isolated resistance to that grip (p.108).

By complete contrast, ISIS came to prominence on the waves of chaos and social collapse triggered by the Arab Spring. Suddenly all these immoveable old regimes were collapsing like dominoes. Anything seemed possible. So ISIS’s rhetoric, messaging, videos and social media all reflect exuberant confidence that the world is changing and this is their moment (p.114). The overarching theme of ISIS propaganda was: ‘We are strong and we are winning’ (p.112).

The multiple appeals of ISIS

There are multiple appeals to this way of thinking. One of the most practical is the reality that the transformative event the organisation promises is never actually going to happen and so membership of then organisation is, in a sense, a job for life. The naive utopian dream of transforming the world is the gift that keeps on giving; since the transformed world will never arrive, you’ll just have to keep organising, fund raising and carrying out atrocities. Forever.

This leads to the second appeal, which is that such crusades obviously provide its members with a number of psychological rewards and comforts. Your life acquires a messianic meaning. You acquire a family, the brothers you never had and a wise and all-seeing father figure. You are among like-minded people whose clarity and conviction answers all your anxieties about life (p.82).

And you are working towards a Better World. If, in order to get to this Just, Fair and Peaceful World, you have to kidnap, rape, torture, murder and behead some people, well a) the boss told you to b) the extremity of the acts reinforces the high stakes you’re playing for: the future of the world is in your hands. Also c) such extreme acts bond you with the people you carried them out with; once you’ve beheaded someone with your own hands there’s no going back. And d) such acts show the world that you’re serious, this is the real thing, you’re not backing down until you have built The New World.

All this goes to explain why a disproportionate number of ISIS fighters are foreign i.e. don’t come from its heartlands in Iraq and then Syria. It’s been known for thousands of years that a convert to a religion or cause is usually more zealous and committed than someone born and bred into it. Same here. According to researcher Thomas Hegghammer a) the atrocities recorded on videos which are then distributed i.e. ritual beheadings, are disproportionately carried out by foreign fighters. The text mentions ‘Jihadi John’, real name Mohammed Emwazi, born in Kuwait but raised in London. He became such a notorious figure that he has his own, surprisingly long Wikipedia entry, and was hunted by both the US and UK governments until assassinated in a drone strike.

Plus another, simpler explanation – toxic masculinity:

The ultraviolence served multiple purposes. In addition to intimidating its enemies on the ground… ultraviolence sold well with the target demographic of foreign fighters – angry, maladjusted young men whose blood stirred at images of grisly beheadings and the crucifixion of so-called apostates. (p.72)

Some young men just like fighting. Some yearn for the thrill of killing and risking being killed. Others want the trappings of being a ‘warrior’, not least the sex slaves ISIS took wherever it captured, particularly among Iraq’s Yazidi minority (p.194). Some are criminals looking for opportunities for loot. Some are just psychopaths.

So Stern and Berger’s account fits ISIS neatly not only into the matrix of Islamic terror groups, but also among the wider context of terrorist groups around the world over the last 50 years or so. They define terrorism as having two aspects:

1. Terrorism is deliberately aimed at civilians or non-combatants; this puts it outside all definitions of ‘just war’ in most religious traditions, starting with the Islamic tradition itself.

2. Terrorism is designed to be dramatic in order to achieve propaganda ends; in the case of Islamic terrorism in order to:

a) create fear and dread in the wider target population (‘the hostages should be liquidated in the most terrifying manner which will send fear into the hearts of the enemy’, p.122)

b) wake passive Muslim communities in their host nations from their slumber; to ignite ‘the deadly tinderbox fizzing just beneath the surface of every western country’ (p.97)

Internecine Muslim killing

Mainstream Islam seeks to live in peace with non-believers. Radical or jihadist sects take a more binary approach, believing all infidels or unbelievers can be freely tortured and murdered, for exemplary and propaganda purposes.

But the authors also tell us that recent Islamic theorists have developed the handy notion of takfir which is the pronouncement that a Muslim is no longer a Muslim but an unbeliever i.e. any Muslims who don’t agree with your beliefs aren’t, in fact, real Muslims, and so can also be killed.

This conceptualisation feels like a rationalisation, or extension of, something which already existed in the sweaty world of Islamic jihadi / insurgency / radical politics, which is the notable tendency of Islamic radicals to kill each other. ISIS’s beheadings of Western hostages received a lot of publicity because they were intended to; they were well-produced videos of the killings, very effectively distributed them across social media and the internet, and Western media picked them up and rebroadcast them, exactly as ISIS intended.

Less well known was the time, effort and expense Islamic radicals have devoted to murdering each other. It’s one of the main revelations of this book. In the field, different Islamic fighters attack each other and fight battles. Individual Islamic leaders are targeted and assassinated and sometimes entire meetings of senior leaders. In this respect, many Islamic radical groups do the West’s work for them, which is nice.

Seen from another angle, the internecine bloodshed of these squabbling jihadist groups is just another version of the sectarian violence which erupted all across Iraq after the American invasion, above all of the profound and poisonous enmity between Shia and Sunni Muslims which emerged from the shadow of Saddam to wreck Iraq. And these are both examples of the tendency of Muslim, certainly Arab Muslim countries, to contain seething sectarian animosities just waiting to boil over into civil war: before our modern tribulations came the prolonged civil war in Lebanon and the murderous civil war in Algeria. Now we have social collapse and civil war in Libya, the terrible conflict in Syria, and the under-reported war in Yemen. How these Muslims hate each other.

Al Qaeda and ISIS are Sunni movements. ISIS follows the Salafi jihadist branch of Sunni Islam. This appears to mean that, in order to create their Islamic paradise, they have to intimidate, terrorise and kill as many Shi’a Muslims as possible, as well as carrying out attacks on their mosques and holy places, witness the 2006 ISIS attacks on the Al-Askari Mosque, one of the holiest sites in Shi’a Islam, in Samarra, 80 miles from Baghdad (p.25). This succeeded in triggering reprisal attacks by Sunnis and helping to precipitate the Iraqi civil war (p.25). ISIS propaganda films included accounts of Shi’a death squads killing Sunni Muslims, turncoats from ISIS tell stories of being brainwashed with endless stories of Shi’a evil-doing…which, of course, then justified massacring as many Shi’as as possible. (p.107)

In its publications and in countless videos ISIS extolled the virtues of killing the rafidah (a derogatory term for Shi’a Muslims) and nusayri (a derogatory term for Alawites, members of a sect of Shi’a Islam practiced by members of the Syrian regime). (p.116)

Paradise can, it appears, only be attained by wiping out most of humanity – the whole of ‘the West’, obviously; all other countries or cultures which practice any religion apart from Islam, natch; all Shi’a Muslims, of course, (p.230), all other minority Muslim groups (Alawites, Sufis), plus any Sunni Muslims who disagree with anything ISIS say and can now be rendered unmuslim by the simple process of takfir.

ISIS aims to cleanse the world of all that disagree with its ideology. (p.233)

It is, then, standard genocidal millenarianism. Set out to kill almost the entire world population in order to make the world ‘pure’. And when, as a result of your indiscriminate use of barbaric violence, you’ve alienated the entire world against you – not to worry, the very fact that everyone rallies against you fact is one more proof that you and your brothers alone possess The Truth and are part of a small elite of Truth-knowers and Holy Warriors which the entire world wants to smother.

And so it is that these people become trapped in the paranoid, self-confirming death spiral of the millenarian cult.

The end of the world

Most educated people know that our word Armageddon derives from its use in the Bible’s Book of Revelations and is supposed to be the site of the Last Battle before the End of the World. The word is a Latinisation of the Hebrew‎ Har Məgīddō where Har means mountain and Megiddo means place of crowds.

But I hadn’t heard about Dabiq. Dabiq is a small town in northern Syria near the border with Turkey. It features heavily in traditional Islamic end-times prophecy which predicts that it is here that Muslim forces will defeat ‘Rome’, which modern interpreters take to be ‘the West’, before going on to conquer Constantinople (p.220). Like the Book of Revelation, conceived and written millennia ago, when the configuration of forces and powers was drastically different, but twisted by modern interpreters to suit their current policies.

Anyway, so central was the place and concept and resonance of Dabiq to ISIS that when they established a multi-language magazine to promote their cause, they called it Dabiq (p.119). The authors not only mention this but quote from various editions of Dabiq. And the magazine was first published just a month or so after ISIS captured the actual town of Dabiq (p.224).

This leads into an entire chapter explaining the various Islamic prophecies about the end of the world. Some of these include the institution of slavery, especially sexual slavery, as well as intensified war between the Muslim sects. Seen in this light ISIS’s deliberate inflammation of Sunni-Shia sectarianism in Iraq has an eschatological purpose i.e. it is consciously designed to bring about the End Times.

All of which is set against the over-heated and hysterical atmosphere created by 9/11 and then the American invasion of Iraq. Both the al Qaeda and ISIS leadership have paid close attention to end time prophecies and, of course, their propagandists proudly claim to be striking the first blows in the Final Battle which will lead up to the arrival of the Mahdi and the End of Days.

Except that none of this will happen. The jihadists will just carry on beheading Western hostages, carrying out random atrocities in Africa and, above all, killing lots of Muslims in the name of their common God.

The authors make one important point. Because these warriors are living in the End Times and fighting the Final Battle between cosmic forces of Good and Evil normal moral rules do not apply. Millenarian groups are the most likely to carry out acts of barbarity because they have passed beyond the realms of normal human morality (p.225).

This chapter, Chapter 10: The Coming Final Battle, is arguably the most enjoyable of the book. It presents a useful summary of modern thinking about apocalyptic and millenarian movements, listing their attributes, quoting experts on the subject on the appeal of their psychology, and then assessing how many of these attributes apply to either al Qaeda or ISIS.

For example, it offers fascinating interpretations of the beheading videos which brought ISIS notoriety in the West. There are at least three motives or meanings:

  1. The beheadings are designed to create fear and terror in western countries out of all proportion to ISIS’s actual capacities.
  2. The beheadings are meant to goad western powers i.e. America, into another invasion, this time of Syria, which will a) spread even more chaos across the region, thus allowing ISIS to flourish b) comply with millenarian prophecies that the ‘crusaders’ will return to Muslim lands once again and be finally, definitively defeated.
  3. Then there’s just the simple explanation that the people carrying out the beheadings really are psychopaths and sadists.

But towards the end of the book, they offer a fourth interpretation: this is that the beheadings enact the great psychological simplification that the beheaders have undergone: they now live in an End Time world of extreme black and white, us and them, good and evil. So the videos are designed to trigger an equally simplistic response in their viewers, making viewers so angry that they themselves resort to the same psychologically basic binary of good and evil.

In other words, they were designed to erase the sophistication and complexity of modern western thought, to trigger the same simple-minded binary good guys-bad guys dichotomy that characterised Bush and Blair’s response to 9/11.

But, the authors warn, we shouldn’t let ourselves be brought down to their level, not just of barbarism, but of simple-mindedness. The world is a complex place, societies are complex thing, people are complex animals and multi-levelled complex problems like Iraq or Syria require immensely subtle, complex and thought-through solutions.

Using good guy-bad guy rhetoric like Bush and Blair did is a failure of the sophistication and intellect we pride ourselves on, but this isn’t just a rhetorical analysis. It led us into simplistic thinking (invade – overthrow dictator – install democracy – leave grateful nation) which bore no resemblance whatsoever to the immense complexity of the situation on the ground. ISIS want us to do that again. We mustn’t.

ISIS and social media

Immensely knowledgeable though the book is, it has, in my opinion, a central weakness. The longest chapter in the book (Chapter 7: The Electronic Brigades) is a detailed analysis of al Qaeda and ISIS’s use of social media, particularly Facebook but especially Twitter. I found this very tedious – ISIS use social media much like everyone else, to publish videos and share propaganda material, no real surprise – but the chapter is clearly so long because one of the authors, J.M. Berger is, apparently, a real expert in this area and, they tell us, was commissioned by Google Ideas to carry out research into ISIS supporters and Twitter (p.171).

So this explains why this chapter is so long and contains so many detailed stats about ISIS social media users and followers. But the thirty pages of this account boil down to a repetitive and boring iteration of the basic problem facing the owners of Twitter which is how far the principle of free speech should let Twitter users publish highly inflammatory and homicidal content. The chapter includes lots of really boring facts about al Qaeda and ISIS’s twitter accounts and social media stars and how many accounts were suspended or cancelled and the various strategies jihadis resorted to to try and hang onto accounts etc etc. It feels exactly like an academic report prepared for a big corporation which has been tweaked and re-versioned to become the chapter of a book.

Then, at the very end of the main body of the book, is a chapter which offers the authors’ thoughts about the way forward for the West in tackling ISIS and this also is mainly concerned with a detailed look at how to counter ISIS’s messaging on social media, repeating many of the ideas already laid out at boring length in chapter 7. They list five goals ISIS have in their social media strategy and how we in the West can counter all five.

Anyway, my point is that, all this focus on the minutiae of ISIS’s twitter accounts comes at the expense of a military analysis of ISIS. There is nothing anywhere in the book about how ISIS came to be such a successful military operation. ISIS didn’t manage to overrun a large part of Syria and Iraq, eventually controlling a third of Iraq’s territory and seizing the hugely important city of Mosul, just by being good at social media.

This book is very interesting on what you could call the cultural aspects of ISIS, about jihadi psychology, the psychology of terrorism and millenarian cults, good at giving extended comparisons of its radical worldview with that of its progenitor al Qaeda, and much more.

But it is a complete blank when it comes to explaining how this ragtag outfit of extremists and sadists was transformed into such a very effective fighting machine. There is nothing about its military campaigns, no analysis of its military strategy or tactics, no account of any battle or fighting at all.

And, having been published in 2015, no account at all of the military campaign undertaken by the US and other Western allies to extirpate it. For the entire military side of the story you’ll have to look elsewhere.

American comedy

The United States had invested $25 billion in training and equipping the Iraqi army over the course of eight years. That investment evaporated in the blink of an eye as Iraqi soldiers turned tail and fled in the face of ISIS’s assault on Mosul. (p.45)

Tikrit, the hometown of Saddam Hussein, fell soon after Mosul. At many stops along its march, ISIS captured US-supplied military equipment from fleeing Iraqi soldiers, which they trumpeted with photos on social media. (p.46)

Money well spent, then.

American chaos

The American invasion of Iraq created chaos, insurgency, ethnic division and civil war throughout Iraq, which then spilled into neighbouring Syria when it experienced its failed Arab Spring rebellion in 2011.

This catastrophic environment, the collapse of these two societies into chaotic violence, also explains the difference between al Qaeda and ISIS because it made the apocalyptic, millenarian, end-time beliefs espoused by the latter seem much more plausible.

Wikipedia quotes from William McCants’ book, ‘The ISIS Apocalypse: The History, Strategy, and Doomsday Vision of the Islamic State’:

‘References to the End Times fill Islamic State propaganda. It’s a big selling point with foreign fighters, who want to travel to the lands where the final battles of the apocalypse will take place. The civil wars raging in those countries today [Iraq and Syria] lend credibility to the prophecies. The Islamic State has stoked the apocalyptic fire…For Bin Laden’s generation, the apocalypse wasn’t a great recruiting pitch. Governments in the Middle East two decades ago were more stable, and sectarianism was more subdued. It was better to recruit by calling to arms against corruption and tyranny than against the Antichrist. Today, though, the apocalyptic recruiting pitch makes more sense than before.’

So… America is directly responsible for creating the super-chaos which raged across Iraq and amid which new types of extreme jihadi terrorism were able to develop and flourish. Also from Wikipedia:

According to Iraqis, Syrians, and analysts who study the group, almost all of ISIL’s leaders – including the members of its military and security committees and the majority of its emirs and princes – are former Iraqi military and intelligence officers, specifically former members of Saddam Hussein’s Ba’ath government who lost their jobs and pensions in the de-Ba’athification process after that regime was overthrown.

The former Chief Strategist in the Office of the Coordinator for Counterterrorism of the US State Department, David Kilcullen, has said that: ‘There undeniably would be no Isis if we had not invaded Iraq.’ (Wikipedia)

Or as Stern and Berger put it:

The rise of ISIS is to some extent the unintended consequence of Western intervention in Iraq. Coalition forces removed a brutal dictator from power but they also broke the Iraqi state. The West lacked the patience, the will and the wisdom to build a new, inclusive one. (p.238)

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, with fine moral ideals and high-sounding rhetoric about freedom and justice and democracy (see the speeches of George Bush and Tony Blair). Stern and Berger sum up the message of all the books I’ve read about Iraq and Afghanistan in one pithy sentence:

The only thing worse than a brutal dictatorship is no state at all (p.237)

Or Islamic State.


Credit

ISIS: The State of Terror by Jessica Stern and J.M. Berger was published by William Collins in 2015. References are to the 2016 paperback edition, with an additional afterword.

New world disorder reviews

The New Middle East: The World After The Arab Spring by Paul Danahar (revised edition, 2015)

This is a hefty 480-page account of the Middle East in the aftermath of the Arab Spring by a highly experienced BBC correspondent, so why did it feel such hard work, and why did I find myself heartily disliking the author long before the end? There are several reasons.

To begin with, I was deterred by the patronising, facetious tone of the opening chapter (examples below). Then, in the following, more serious chapters, Danahar does two interrelated things: he arranges the material about each of the countries he surveys (Tunisia, Egypt, Palestine, Libya, Iraq, Syria) in a surprisingly non-chronological, apparently arbitrary way, which makes it difficult to follow the course of events or understand causal relationships or even be clear about key turning points. And this is exacerbated by the second element, namely Danahar’s apparent determination to name-drop every politician, commentator or local he’s ever met or interviewed.

When Michael Ignatieff interviews politicians in Empire Lite, his questions, the answers, and his reflections on them, are beautifully focused on the ideas and issues he is exploring. But in this book, although the politicians or generals or religious leaders Danahar interviews obviously speak more or less to the topic at hand, there is no discernible thread or focus to their comments. The result of these tactics is that each chapter turns into a porridgey morass of disconnected dates and unrelated soundbites. Danahar makes so many hundreds of minor ephemeral points that the main issues are buried.

Patronising and bad comedy

The first chapter, about the collapse of the old Middle East, is written in a patronising, would-be comic style, characterised by facetiousness and sarcasm. It’s a terrible example of what happens when BBC journalists are told to make their work ‘more accessible’ and, as a result, attempt to make subjects simple and funny.

Thus, when he explains that the Arab Spring was the expression of the frustration of the young generation in each of its countries, he doesn’t give any facts or figures or statistics, he just mocks and ridicules the old dictators of these countries:

But then these were old men who probably needed help from their grandchildren to operate the DVD player. (p.22)

The dictators in Tunisia, Libya, Egypt and Syria tightly controlled the traditional media (press and TV) but:

The Grandads were too blind to see that their political class didn’t control the message any more. By the time they tried to turn the Internet off it was too late. (p.22)

This comes over as patronising and condescending and stupid. It lacks anything useful in the way of evidence, data, statistics, facts and analysis. It is a silly, cartoon version of the world and it is the dominant tone of this introductory survey.

A few weeks before the NATO jets began to rev up their engines to drop their first payloads on the regime of ‘the world’s most famous dictator’, the man who would soon soar up the charts to grab that title from him was still pretty confident that he faced no serious trouble at home. (p.27)

He’s talking about Colonel Gaddafi and Bashar al-Assad, but in the language of Top of the Pops. Why? Does he think it will make the subject more ‘accessible’? It doesn’t. It just comes over as patronising and childish. Here’s another, typical gag:

We in the West need to understand this region, because Vegas rules do not apply. What happens in the Middle East does not stay in the Middle East. (p.17)

Here he is explaining why democracy is important:

Democracy is a safety valve. The ability to get together with a bunch of like-minded people and wander down the street hurling abuse at your leaders is a good thing for society. Without it the pressure just grows. (p.41)

The Internet. The Grandads. The Strong Men of the Arab World. Democracy. Everything is capitalised as for children. Janet and John. Blue Peter. BBC Bitesize.

We all know George W. Bush was a twerp but that’s no excuse for writing twerpishly about him. Here is Danahar describing George Bush’s ‘Freedom Agenda’ and Bush’s apparently sincere belief that he was on a mission from God to bring peace to the Middle East:

He [Bush] pushed for elections in the region but then the Arabs started voting for the wrong people, Islamists. That wasn’t the plan. So Western government supported economic reform instead, but that only helped the dictators steal even more money. So Western aid money started to go back into civil society projects that seemed like a nice safe way of doing something while, critics said, not doing very much at all. The ‘mission from God’ became rather less driven. Instead it sort of ambled about a bit, took in the view and told the Arab people to be patient. (p.36)

See what I mean by patronising and condescending? Note the complete absence of facts or dates. Instead there’s just Danahar’s cheap sarcasm. Here is his cartoon summary of America’s puzzlement at the Arab Spring:

America not only doesn’t understand the rules of the game, it can’t work out what winning might look like. Since the revolts it has been roaming around the table looking at everyone else’s hand, offering advice on which hand to play, but because it acted like it didn’t have a stake in the game, nobody was really listening. (p.7)

Not helpful, is it? Weak attempts at humour are no substitute for intelligent analysis. Here is his explanation of why the Arab Spring kicked off in Tunisia:

Middle-class people don’t riot, or at least they didn’t before the Arab revolts. Middle-class people, by definition, have something invested in the system. It might not be much but it is theirs. So when trouble breaks out their instincts are normally to moan, not march. But nothing upsets the middle-classes like a show-off. And if the flashy neighbours are showing off with your money, the gardening gloves come off!

This is what happens when journalists think they’re stand-up comedians. ‘The gardening gloves come off!’ What a prannet.

Anti-West

Another reasons for disliking this book is that Danahar pins most of the blame for the failure of the 2011 Arab Spring revolutions not on the actual inhabitants of the countries in question, but on ‘the West’. According to Danahar, ‘the West’ doesn’t understand the Arab world. ‘The West’ uses racist stereotypes of Arabs. ‘The West’ propped up dictators like Saddam and Assad for generations (p.21). ‘The West’ preaches democracy but then rejects it as soon as Islamist parties are elected (p.22). ‘The West’ projected its own facile wishes for a liberal third way onto the revolutions (p.23). When someone in ‘the West’ called them ‘the Facebook revolutions’ it’s because ‘the West looked for labels it could understand to explain a region it did not’ (p.22). Silly old, stupid old West, eh?

On and on goes Danahar’s barrage of accusations. ‘The West’ preaches democracy and human rights but conveniently forgets them when it has to do deals with Saudi Arabia for its oil (p.31). ‘The West’ ‘bought the line’ peddled by the old dictators that it was them or chaos, them or dangerous fundamentalists (p.34). Silly old West.

This all gets very tiresome very fast. Danahar’s pose of blaming ‘the West’ for everything is itself a stereotype, a Guardian-reader cliché, precisely the self-hating condescension towards his own country and culture which a certain kind of university-educated, white, Western, middle-class liberal deploys in order to feel smugly superior to it. When Danahar berates ‘the West’ for its racist ignorance or its hypocrisy he obviously isn’t including himself in ‘the West’. He is not part of the racist West. He is not part of the hypocritical West. He is perfectly attuned to the Arab world. He understands everything. After all, he works for the BBC and so is a god.

At one point he says ‘the West’ only reports on violence in the Arab world, thus fuelling the stereotype that the Arab world is violent (p.21). Well, er, isn’t he himself a, you know, journalist? Hasn’t he himself ever reported on violence in the Arab world? In fact his book overflows with reportage about revolution, insurgency, intifada and civil war all across the Arab world. So isn’t he, in other words, a fully paid-up member of the system which he opens his book by sarcastically criticising?

Plainly, Danahar considers himself an exception to the rule; when he reports on violence it is not how other reporters, those ghastly riff-raff, report on violence – he reports on it from above the fray, from the lofty vantage point of a BBC correspondent. This is exactly the tone of smug superiority which runs through another BBC foreign correspondent, Fergal Keane’s, self-congratulatory book about Rwanda. Maybe it’s a requirement for the job.

Israel, again

After the deeply off-putting introduction, the book goes on to long, rambling, often confusing chapters about the Arab Spring and its aftermath in Egypt, Palestine, Israel. There’s a chapter about America’s attempts to cope with the course of events, and then on to reviews of events in Iraq, Libya and Syria.

The Arab Spring affected the Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank, and changed the dynamic affecting the Palestinian Liberation Organisation and Hamas. And it had some effect in Israel although, despite reading the Israel chapter twice, I couldn’t tell you exactly how. Maybe unnerved the Israeli government and army as they watched to see who would end up running the countries around them.

My main thought on Danahar’s chapters about Palestine and Israel was – why, at just over a hundred pages, is a quarter of a book which is meant to be about the Arab Spring devoted to the Israel-Palestine question?

The bias in international reporting

When I worked on Channel 4’s international affairs programme, I was the ‘Asia’ editor. I produced discussion pieces about the tail end of the Iran-Iraq war (1988) through to the first Gulf War (1991). In between, I tried every week to get items on the air about other parts of Asia, for example, India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka, or south-east Asia such as Thailand, Laos, Vietnam or Indonesia, but found it difficult-to-impossible. Even getting stories about China onto the programme was virtually impossible since, back in those days, the only reported events were the stiflingly boring Communist Party congresses.

No, the three countries that appeared on the programme week in, week out, with mind-numbing inevitability, were America, Israel and South Africa. Atrocities could happen in Indonesia or Cambodia, political arguments in India, elections in Bangladesh, riots in Kyrgyzstan – my editor and the commissioning editor weren’t interested. But one settler got shot in Israel or the South African police opened fire on a group of black protesters and, whoosh! We’d immediately schedule ten-minute discussions assessing the state of the never-ending peace process or have yet another talkfest about the apartheid regime. And an American senator or congressman only had to make a controversial remark or a judge somewhere in Kansas make a ruling about abortion or civil rights and, whoosh! off we had to go to America for yet another in-depth report about America America America.

What I learned from working on an international affairs programme was the enormous in-built bias in the media towards certain countries and certain stories and against most others. There are at least four reasons for this. 1) It’s easier to get stories out of countries where journalists and film crews can operate freely. So Israel and South Africa, for all the shortcomings of their regimes, were First World countries with excellent transport and power and communications infrastructure. Sometimes a bit perilous, but basically very good countries to report from.

2) Everyone already knows the narrative. The Arab-Israeli conflict has taken on the character of a fairy story (a particularly Grimm fairy story) with an extremely clear, black-and-white narrative about the conflict between the Goliath of the all-powerful, unpleasantly right-wing but recognisably democratic Israeli state and the David of the plucky underdog, the downtrodden oppressed Palestinians, all too often represented by awful terrorist organisations, first the PLO and now Hamas. The simplicity of the narrative makes it easy to conceptualise, describe, and analyse. It’s Easy to package. Same used to be true of apartheid South Africa. Apartheid authorities = evil; black freedom fighters = heroes and martyrs; Nelson Mandela = a saint.

They were pantomime narratives with pantomime goodies and baddies. Easy to understand, easy to write about, easy to feel moral indignation about, easy to go on marches about.

Compare and contrast the difficulties I had trying to persuade my editor to do an item about the general election in Bangladesh, where 17 different parties were standing, and the ruling party was riven by corruption accusations, or the latest political scandal in Indonesia. I never stood a chance of getting those kinds of stories on the show because 1) the countries were difficult to operate in and get stories out of, 2) the situations were complex and unfamiliar, so would take some time to explain properly by which time, it was assumed, the audience would have turned over to watch Love Island.

Incidentally, it was even worse for my friend who was the Africa editor. She was initially angry, frustrated, tried to make a change, protested, and eventually slumped into sullen acceptance of the fact that she would never get a story on the programme about any other African country but South Africa. During the apartheid years, any speech by a government minister, any shooting in a black township, any announcement by the ANC got more coverage than entire wars in Chad, Sudan, Congo and so on. Because it was easy to report from (five star hotels, excellent satellite links) and the narrative was fairy-tale easy to cover in a short studio discussion.

3) Related to the points above is the way that Western journalists and editors shared the same basic assumption that these places mattered to their audience. Regarding Israel, maybe because of residual British guilt at having mismanaged our mandate over Palestine, probably more to do with the active Jewish community in Britain, it was assumed that British audiences had a kind of vested interest in what goes on in Israel. In the same way, many British firms had business connections and investments in South Africa; lots of pukka Brits have lived and worked there. Again it was assumed the audience had various kinds of attachment to the place in ways they just didn’t to Indonesia or Malaya or Bangladesh.

(In fact, some 650,000 people of Bangladeshi origin live in the UK, or 1% of the UK population, twice as many as Jews, about 370,000 or 0.5%. So it’s not a case of raw numbers. And obviously the British Empire ruled Bangladesh as much as it ruled between-the-wars Palestine; facts which reinforce my theory that it’s to do with ease of access and simplicity of narrative.)

4) Lastly, over and above these points, there was what you could call the student-level, Guardian-reading and Labour Left feeling that we, the British government, ought to be doing more in both places to bring about justice, democracy etc. A moral and political commitment to these places. Remember all the marches and rallies and speeches about apartheid during the 1970s and 80s? And the marches and speeches and rallies which still go on about Palestine? Left and progressive politics was and is committed to the injustices in those places in ways that just don’t apply to injustice and grievance in Indonesia or Bangladesh.

So these 4 reasons help to explain why just a handful of foreign countries were (and their modern equivalents still are) vastly over-represented in the British media while others, in fact most of the countries in the rest of the world (Chad, Guatemala, Angola, Tajikistan) go virtually unreported in the media from one year to the next.

I wouldn’t say this is conscious racism – the two countries I’ve highlighted as dominating the headlines in the early 1990s included Arabs and Jews and blacks – and in fact all bien-pensant liberals were falling over themselves to speak up for Palestinians and black South Africans, so it’s not racism in the obvious sense.

But the four reasons I’ve listed above go some way to explaining why there is a kind of institutional and deeply embedded bias in all reporting of world affairs by almost all Western media. Some countries are easy to report from and feature simple black-and-white narratives (Russia = invading bully; Ukraine = plucky underdog) and so they tend to get the headlines. Countries which are harder to move around freely, or lack a good comms infrastructure, or where the issues are complex and require a bit of explanation – not reported so much, or hardly at all.

Hopefully, you now see the point of my heading ‘Israel, again’. I was hoping this book would provide a good narrative account and analytic explanation of the revolutions in countries I don’t know that much about (Libya, Syria), describing the Arab Springs which were carried out in Arab countries by Arab peoples.

Instead, as Danahar’s text set off on a long rambling account of the Arab-Israeli conflict which included all kinds of historical digressions – taking in the Balfour Declaration, the first Temple, Mohammad ascending into heaven from the Dome of the Rock, Abraham, descriptions of the three Arab-Israeli wars of 1948, 1967 and 1973, the various intifadas, Israel’s 1982 incursion into Lebanon, its invasions of the West Bank, rocket attacks, illegal settlements blah blah blah – I found myself thinking: why is a quarter of this book about bloody Israel (again)?

As to the actual content, it can be summarised thus: Israel has been becoming more right wing, with the ongoing rise of intolerant religious/sectarian political parties and groups in society, and Supreme Court rulings which are tending to define Israel more and more as an exclusively Jewish state, increasingly excluding and alienating the 2 million citizens of the country (total population 8 million) who are not Jewish.

Some commentators blame the fiercely right-wing turn Israeli society has taken (and the collapse of the old Israeli Left) on the sizeable influx of Russian immigrant Jews, who are more fiercely anti-Arab and pro the illegal settlement of the occupied West Bank than the average population. These Russian immigrants are blamed for fundamentally changing the nature of Israeli society (p.224). If Danahar’s correct in this description, then the liberal, democratic and progressive Israel I grew up admiring has vanished forever.

Rambling text

Danahar arranges his chapters in long repetitive, unstructured and emphatically unchronological narratives. So in the Israel chapter, one minute we’re in 1917 (Balfour Declaration), then in 1982 (invasion of Lebanon), then it’s 1967 (Arab-Israeli war) and suddenly 2003 (US invades Iraq), in no particular order, as his train of thought rambles over the subject.

On one level this makes the text quite enjoyable, a bit like Tristram Shandy. Every time I opened the book I came across sections I couldn’t remember reading, and had no idea where I was in the story, since the narratives in each chapter deliberately follow no chronological or logical order. Pot luck. Spin the wheel.

On a more practical level, however, it meant I got to the end of the chapter about, for example, Egypt, with no clear idea what happened during the Arab Spring protests there. I think the street protests in spring 2011 led to the overthrow of Egypt’s long-time authoritarian leader, Hosni Mubarak; after a period of confusion, elections were held which returned the previously banned Muslim Brotherhood to government. They, and their leader, Mohammed Morsi, turned out to be terrible at running a country, at trying to balance and reconcile all the opposing factions, and began to behave increasingly autocratically while at the same time street crime/lawlessness increased. Until eventually the army, led by General Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, in July 2013 stepped in to end the chaos, deposed Morsi, and imposed yet another round of military rule. I think.

In the same way, the two connected chapters about Palestine-Israel ramble all over the place, burying the impact of the Arab Spring under layers of digression about every other conceivable subject. For example, the Israel chapter includes long passages about some of the extreme orthodox Jewish groups and parties which seem to be growing in Israel, passages which weren’t really about the Arab Spring at all, but fit more into Danahar’s broader thesis that the entire region is becoming more prone to religious sectarianism and extremism.

I registered this idea, processed it and then thought – hang on; what about the Iranian revolution of 1979? I was alive at the time and remember it having a huge, seismic impact, far more game-changing than the Arab Springs. Ten years later, when I worked on the international affairs programme, many of the experts I spoke to associated the overthrow of the Shah of Iran and the creation of a theocracy based on Sharia law with the advent of a completely new phenomenon – Islamic fundamentalism.

This was then echoed and amplified by the example of the mujahideen in Afghanistan who, for ten long years (1979 to 1989), brought the concept of Islamic fighters into the front room of anyone in the West who owned a telly and watched the news. In other words, I thought this phenomenon, the rise and rise of Islamic fundamentalism and Islamic sectarianism had been becoming slowly more widespread for 30 years or so before the Arab Spring.

I suppose it’s possible to argue that the Arab Spring came after the experience of Iraq collapsing into bitter sectarian civil war and ethnic cleansing from 2003 onwards had ramped up sectarian bitterness a notch; but this had been prepared decades earlier when Sunni Saddam went to war with Shia Iran in 1980, by Sunni-Shia clashes in the Lebanon, by the uneasy rule of the Shia minority Alawi sect over a majority Sunni population in Syria and many other Sunni-Shia clashes across the Arab world.

And as to extreme religious orthodox groups in Israel, I swear to God I’ve been watching TV documentaries or reading articles about them for decades. In fact a stock part of any debate about whether we should have proportional representation in the UK is to cite the example of Israel where PR means that the tiny ultra-orthodox parties can have an influence out of all proportion to their numbers or democratic mandate.

So this is another reason I didn’t like this book. Not only does Danahar go on at extraordinary length about issues and historical events which are peripheral to the nominal subject of his book (what have extended interviews with the Israeli haredi community got to do with the Arab Spring?) but many of the ideas he derives from it seem surprisingly, well, stale and obvious. Religious fanaticism is on the rise in the Middle East! Haven’t we known this for decades and decades?

America, again

What I wrote above about Israel and old apartheid South Africa is a million times truer of America. Regular readers will know of my dislike of the way the arts and media industries in the UK slavishly kowtow to all things American (the Barbican, Radio 4). I was surprised to realise just how much this lickspittle adulation extended, during the Iraq and Afghan wars, to politicians like Tony Blair and the entire staff of the British army who went out of their way to suck up to the Americans. According to Jack Fairweather and Frank Ledwidge the only reason the British chiefs of staffs recommended deploying the British Army to Afghanistan in 2006, and Blair and Reid enthusiastically agreed, was to try and rebuild our reputation with the Americans after we fouled up so badly in southern Iraq. British military policy was dictated by keeping in with the Yanks.

So it irritated me that a) Danahar places his chapter about American policy in the Middle East before he gets to the actual Arab Spring events in the key states of Libya and Syria; and b) that the chapter about America is longer (52 pages) than the chapters on Iraq (43), Libya (44) and only just eclipsed by Syria (56). America, as usual. America, again.

Mind you he isn’t a fan. The reverse. Danahar’s America chapter is 50 pages of snarky sarcasm about how quickly the Americans were wrong-footed, told in Danahar’s trademark Horrible Histories style:

Perhaps it was the moment America’s old and decrepit foreign policy in the Middle East found itself caught in the headlights, just before the juggernaut driven by a generation of young Arab youths turned it into roadkill. (p.231)

History as sketch show.

Then I was further disheartened to discover that half the America chapter is – guess what? – predominantly about America’s closest ‘ally’ in the region, Israel (again!), with page after page after page chronicling Barack Obama’s difficult relationship with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin ‘Bibi’ Netanyahu. OK, there is some coverage of Saudi Arabia, about its break with the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood, about its (apparent) lack of any home-grown talents or industries apart from oil; and about Israel and Saudi’s common interest in fearing Iran’s nuclear programme. But Israel, America, America, Israel, God spare us.

According to Israeli military figures, Israel carried out a decisive attack on Syria’s nuclear programme in 2007, a devastating attack which destroyed the programme and which both sides have kept hushed up (p.377). Danahar explains how Netanyahu sees his historical role as being the man who saved Israel from Iran’s nuclear ambitions, and how he has consistently called for bombing runs to destroy Iran’s facilities, but how Israel isn’t strong enough to do this on its own, it needs America. And how Obama refused to countenance such a thing and preferred to work through sanctions.

This is interesting enough, but I was hoping for more analysis of Arab countries in a book about the impact of the Arab Spring; not to read page after page after page after page about America or Israel or both.

(As I finished this review, 5 July 2023, America launched an incursion into the West Bank, ostensibly to liquidate ‘militants’ but, inevitably, resulting in civilian casualties and triggering a car attack in Tel Aviv. Just as I’m about to publish this, Hamas launched its atrocious pogrom against Israelis living near Gaza and Israel is responding with a full-spectrum assault on the whole of Gaza whose brutality many Israelis are starting to doubt. So it has gone on during my entire life, and will continue long after I’m gone.)

A blizzard of interviews

By page 300 I’d noticed a verbal tic of Danahar’s which I thought was very symptomatic of the book’s shortcomings. On page after page he says he interviewed this, that or the other senior figure in this, that or the other relevant country, and records how they ‘told him’ their view or take or version.

The more I pondered all these ‘told me’s’ the more symptomatic I realised they are. Danahar is a journalist. Journalists work on relatively short ‘stories’ which they file one at a time to newspapers and magazines or TV or radio, generally on a quick turnaround. It is a badge of achievement to add into these stories that you interviewed or got access to very senior figures in the army or government or whatever relevant part of the administration as well as, at the other end of the spectrum, ordinary people like teachers taking part in protest marches or innocent citizens whose house has just been bombed etc. Quoting one or two of these in every ‘story’ wins you brownie points, shows how well ‘in’ you are with people in the know and/or have done the legwork to get piping hot eye-witness accounts.

My point is that this entire approach, which is a central aspect of journalistic technique, doesn’t work so well in a book. Instead, having two or three extensive quotes from a galaxy of sources, on every single page does the opposite to what it does in an article – it makes the narrative cluttered and confusing. So many people are quoted saying so many things that it becomes very difficult remembering who’s who, what they said and why.

The people quoted in Michael Ignatieff’s books (which I regard as a kind of gold standard) speak to the issue under consideration, and their quotes are chosen in such a way as to elaborate and elucidate the central topics and ideas, to sustain a train of thought. Ignatieff selects and edits his quotes very carefully in order to further and deepen his analysis.

By contrast, Danahar just quotes people because they shed a bit of light on this event, have a view about this or that personality, saw this thing happen, knew that person, are a paid commentator or protester or whatnot, have a bit to chip in. Pile ’em high and sell ’em cheap. When he quotes Nikolas Sarkozi and Obama being caught by microphones at the UN agreeing that they both hate Netanyahu, I realised a lot of these ‘exclusive’ interviews are little more than high-level gossip. Crucially, his quotes don’t contribute to the narrative, they rarely shed much light. Instead, the sheer number of people popping up with this or that comment on this and that turn of events are a major reason why the text feels so dense and confusing.

Danahar has spoken to hundreds of the right people and yet has somehow, magically emerged with next to no interesting or useful analysis. In his series about contemporary international affairs Michael Ignatieff interviewed far fewer people but his interviews have a laserlike precision; Danahar’s build up a huge, colourful and completely confusing mural.

‘I was there’

This is related to another aspect of the book, which is fine, which is very creditable in journalism but also doesn’t work in a book, which is constantly telling all his readers that he was there. Danahar was there when Obama made his big speech in Cairo, and again at the UN (p.265). Danahar was there when Colonel Gaddafi addressed his General People’s Congress for the last time on 2 March 2011 (p.342). Danahar interviewed Gaddafi in person after the revolt had begun (p.353). The Great Leader even put his arm round Danahar’s shoulders (p.354), and, a few months later, Danahar was at the morgue to see Gaddafi’s mutilated corpse (p.358). Danahar interviewed Bashar al-Assad (p.371). Danahar was there in Baghdad when the Americans entered the city (p.283). Danahar was there in the West Bank as the Israeli rockets flew overhead, he was there, he saw it with his own eyes.

All this is fabulous in an immediate, rushed, eye-witness piece for a newspaper or magazine, but boring and distracting in a book with pretensions to analysis. I don’t care whether he choked on teargas in Tahrir Square during the Egyptian protests, or ducked under incoming fire in the West Bank. That’s irrelevant to what ought to be an objective analysis of the events and their meaning.

But Danahar can’t leave his journalistic mindset behind. He has spoken to hundreds of people and he is determined to quote every single one or die in the attempt; and he was there to eye-witness this invasion and that firefight or this key speech or that momentous signing, and he’s not going to let you forget it.

Indeed, most of the chapters open, not with a significant moment in the events he’s chronicling, but with a personal story of him being on the spot in Egypt, or Israel or Iraq.

‘Even if you win, it is difficult to rule an angry people,’ he told me. (Introduction)

‘I can’t believe we’ve won, I can’t believe we’ve won,’ shouted a man to me over the noise of the chants and firecrackers as Cairo’s Tahrir Square exploded into an ecstatic mix of joy and relief. (Chapter 2)

My ears were working perfectly so I could hear him screaming: ‘Made in the US, look! Made in the US.’ (Chapter 5)

It started for me mid-morning on a quiet street, much like any other, in 2003 in central Baghdad. (Chapter 6)

The bursts of fire from the anti-aircraft gun blistered their way across the field towards the lines of government forces dug in on the other side. The deafening noise and the smell of cordite suffocated my senses. (Chapter 7)

The village sat nestled among cornfields and green pastures where sheep grazed in the crushing midday sun under the watchful eye of local shepherds. A dusty little road wound its way up through the surrounding fields to the small grey-brick homes sitting on a rocky outpost overlooking the countryside. As I entered the house from the dazzling light outside, it was difficult at first to understand why my boots were sticking to the ground in the dark little room. (Chapter 8)

So not only is the text confused and rambling and so stuffed with quotes it feels like an old mattress, but it is continually punctuated with grandstanding reminders of how clever Danahar was to be in the right place at the right time. Fine if you like magazine journalism. Distracting and, ultimately, irritating if you’re looking for analysis.

Anthony Loyd’s war books contain as much or more about himself, and candid revelations about his personal life far in excess of Danahar’s, BUT…a massive but…these personal passages are balanced by intelligent, insightful, priceless analyses of what was going on in the wars Loyd reported on, and why. Loyd’s analyses give you a real sense of what was happening, and how politics and warfare work on the ground. I remember much of his stuff about Bosnia, Chechnya, Afghanistan and Kosovo because it was so insightful, he really helped me to understand those wars.

In addition, Loyd’s complex mingling of reportage with autobiography give you insights into the trade of foreign correspondent, insight into what drives pampered westerners to seek out warzones and scenes of atrocity. They manage to be not only excellent war reporting, but subtle meditations on the trade of war reporting itself. There’s nothing that subtle or interesting here.

Initial facts about the Arab Spring

The Arab nations are disproportionately young. In many, half the population is under 25 (p.7). In all the chapters, about all the major Arab states, Danahar repeats the same point: there is not enough work for these young people to do and no work means no marriage, no family, no identity, no future (e.g. Libya, p.364).

It began in Tunisia. Tunisia was ruled by President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, who had been in power for 24 years and had erected a huge security apparatus to keep it that way. His family ran everything and were known as The Family. The whole thing was dominated by his infamous wife, Leila Ben Ali.

It began on 17 December 2010 when Mohamed Bouazizi, a street trader, poured petrol over himself and set himself alight in protest at having his street trader goods confiscated by the corrupt police. This incident was distributed like wildfire via social media and triggered protest marches which turned to riots in January 2011. The marches and protests became so large that, when some of the army and security forces began to show their support for the protesters, Ben Ali and his family fled the country. The example of Bouazizi was beamed round the Arab world and was, arguably, incited and inflamed by the Arab-focused news media, particularly the Qatar-owned TV channel al-Jazeera.

Iraq

Saddam was toppled so that the region could be reformed. Instead it was convulsed. (p.324)

I’ve now read half a dozen books about Iraq. Danahar’s account suffers from several trademark flaws. For a start, he devotes a lot of time to rehashing the well-known story of the buildup to the American invasion of 2003, the looting which followed, Paul Bremer’s Coalition Provisional Authority, his decision to sack every member of the Ba’ath party from their jobs and dissolve the army and all Iraq’s security forces, two of the worst decisions made anywhere ever, the collapse of the country into insurgency and then sectarian civil war – all old news by 2015, and even older as I read it in 2023. But Danahar tells all this in his usual arsey-versey manner, mingling dates and events in single sentences, sweeping past issues I know to be complicated with just a phrase.

And, of course, the buildup, invasion and then catastrophic mismanagement afterwards are almost entirely American affairs so it’s yet another example of America, again. George Bush again, and Donald Rumsfeld and Paul Bremer and Condoleezza Rice and Colin Powell, again.

For me his account only gets interesting when he gets to Obama, who took office in January 2009, because Obama isn’t covered in the accounts of Thomas Ricks and other early histories I’ve read.

So it was useful to read Danahar’s take on Obama’s attempts to extricate America from Iraq, along with the baleful impact of the billions America invested there i.e. ongoing terrible infrastructure collapse, and long-standing resentment, even hatred, among all those who lost family members in the terrible violence.

America left no friends behind in Iraq. (p.322)

Danahar is more critical of Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki than other authors I’ve read have been, for the simple reason that he is writing later (2015) as the evil caused by Maliki’s shameless sectarian support of Shia militias and his sustained attacks on Sunni politicians and communities had led to dire results. Most notable of these was the rise of ISIS, which was an offshoot of al Qaeda in Iraq, itself manned by disaffected Sunnis, including former Iraqi Army officers.

The Iraqi army was in no shape to deal with this because, according to US assessments, by then al-Maliki had ‘hollowed out big chunks of the Iraqi military. He de-professionalised it, moving out some of the competent leadership, moving in people loyal to him who didn’t know what they were doing…’ (p.322)

So when ISIS forces stormed across the border from Syria in June 2014, Maliki’s army turned tail and fled. Soldiers threw off their uniforms and ran away.

The Iraqi army was proving itself not to be much of an army at all. (p.414)

Four Iraqi army and federal police divisions disintegrated, abandoning all their expensive US-supplied weapons to the jihadists. Black humour doesn’t come much blacker. So that by mid-2014 ISIS found itself ‘governing’ a large part of eastern Syria and north-western Iraq, and was a magnet for every (Sunni) jihadist who truly believed the caliphate was being restored and the end times were at hand. (See my review of ISIS: The State of Terror by Jessica Stern and J.M. Berger.)

Danahar appears to agree with Emma Sky’s view that Obama went to the opposite extreme from Bush and his neocons, by withdrawing American forces too fast; in too fast, out too fast. Obama wanted to be shot of the whole problem but in completely withdrawing US troops and leaving Iraq to the tender mercies of al-Maliki, he was partly responsible for the vacuum into which ISIS burst. And promptly found himself dragged back into Iraq to try and sort out the mess.

After trying to ignore the rise of ISIS during 2013, Obama was finally forced to take notice when ISIS captured the major city of Mosul and began to carry out well-publicised atrocities in its new territory. In June 2014 he sent the air force to pound ISIS strongholds and US special forces back into Iraq to assist Kurdish forces in taking on ISIS. Obama painfully learned the truth of the laconic remark Powell allegedly made to Bush back before the invasion even took place: ‘You broke it, you own it.’

Anyway, the final page of Danahar’s Iraq chapter has little to do with Iraq itself because, without quite understanding how, we are back discussing America, again. Danahar’s final thoughts are all about the US of A. He makes the intriguing suggestion that, had the invasion of Iraq achieved its goal (creating a beacon of democracy in the Middle East) it might have tempted the Americans on to the kind of over-reach which marks the end of empires. Instead, the invasion and occupation were such a crushing failure that they forced the entire US establishment, politicians, civil servants and military, to pause and rethink their interests and goals.

Fair enough, interesting point – but this thoughtful conclusion does seem like … America, again.

Libya

Four big takeaways: 1) Gaddafi created a cult of personality more total and far-reaching than any other Arab leader. He was the Arab world’s longest-serving leader (42 years; p.327). He smothered all freedom of debate, political parties and civil society. So, when he was overthrown, there was a bigger vacuum.

2) It was triggered by one man. Just as Mohamed Bouazizi, the street trader, triggered the revolt in Tunisia, so Libya kicked off after a human rights lawyer, Fathi Terbil, was arrested in Benghazi on 15 February 2011. Protesters organised a ‘Day of Rage’ on 17 February and that is the date which became associated with the uprising (p.329).

3) There is a major split between east and west Libya, which were originally two distinct provinces of the Ottoman Empire and only yoked together as a result of Italy’s violent colonisation in the 1930s (p.334). When the revolt against Gaddafi broke out, there were two distinct groups of rebels, who didn’t interact. According to Danahar the National Transitional Council (NTC) based in Benghazi in the east, proved reluctant or incapable of helping the rebels in the west, Gaddafi’s powerbase. They also didn’t come to the aid of smaller towns in their region, a failure which encouraged local militias to believe it was every man for himself i.e. to split the anti-Gaddafi forces into lots of fragments (p.333). So that’s part of the cause of the civil war which lasts to this day.

4) ‘The NATO intervention was unquestionably the deciding factor in Libya’s civil war,’ (p.358).

Timeline

17 February 2011 – Day of Rage

27 February 2011 – National Transitional Council set up in Benghazi

21 March 2011 – NATO forces intervene i.e. bomb Gaddafi / Libyan army positions

27 June 2011 – International Criminal Court issues an arrest warrant against Gaddafi and his entourage

20 August 2011 – Gaddafi ousted from power in Tripoli and withdraws to his home town of Sirte which he declares the new capital of Libya

20 October 2011 – Sirte captured by rebel forces, Gaddafi found, lynched and murdered

End of the first Libyan civil war

Start of the second Libyan civil war

11 September 2012 – al Qaeda forces attacked the US consulate in Benghazi killing the US ambassador and 3 others leading to a government crackdown on Islamic and rebel militias which had lingered on after the war, and slowly escalated into a new civil war

Libya became split between the House of Representatives, also known as the ‘Tobruk government’, which is internationally recognised as the Libyan Government, and the rival Islamist government of the General National Congress (GNC), also called the ‘National Salvation Government’, based in the capital Tripoli.

The last pages of the Libya chapter give an entertaining overview of the chaos the country descended into by 2014. It’s worth quoting Danahar’s explanation, at length:

Things got so bad so fast because the Gulf states would not stop interfering. Qatar kept funneling money to the Islamists and its favoured militias in Misrata. The UAE and Egypt found their own proxy in the form of an old Libyan army general named Khalifa Haftar. Egypt first got involved because President al-Sisi didn’t want a country led by the Brotherhood on his doorstep. Hatred of the Brotherhood also motivated the UAE, which sometimes cut out the middle man and used their own fighter jets to bomb Libyan militias. After Islamist extremists beheaded twenty-one Coptic Christians working in Libya, al-Sisi started air strikes too. (p.367)

It’s nice to see Danahar calling the Arab League a joke. That was our view back in the early 1990s but I note that it’s now acceptable to say it openly. Why? Because the League promotes a unicorn called ‘Arab unity’ while all across the region Arabs are at each others’ throats, often literally (see al Qaeda beheadings in Libya, Syria and Iraq). Tot up the dead and injured from the civil wars in Libya, Yemen, Syria and Iraq:

  • Syrian civil war: 570,000+ killed and counting
  • Iraqi insurgency, civil war, and ISIS war: 220,000+ killed and counting
  • Yemeni Civil War: casualty figure at 350,000+ killed and counting
  • Libyan Crisis: 40,000+ killed and counting
  • Egyptian Crisis: 5,000+ killed and counting

Arabs have killed about a million other Arabs in the last decade. Some unity. Instead there is a complex web of interference in all these conflicts by other Arab states, often lined up behind opposing factions, supplying arms and bombing each other’s militias.

Their differing objectives meant that Saudi Arabi and Qatar were, behind the scenes, at each other’s throats over Syria. The US tried, and failed, to get them to co-operate. (p.376)

And Arab incompetence. Not my view, Danahar’s:

Within weeks of Mubarak’s overthrow the institution which had symbolised much of what is wrong with the Arab world during his rule [the Arab League] was suddenly in danger of losing its hard-won reputation of being utterly useless in a crisis. (p.235)

By the time his book went to press (2015) Libya looked increasingly like a country in name only, being split down the middle with two governments, two armies and two sets of foreign sponsors, with some towns and cities under no one’s control but the scenes of ongoing urban warfare and terrorist attacks.

Characteristically, Danahar winds up his Libya chapter by reflecting on America (again). It was NATO bombing which halted and ‘degraded’ Gaddafi’s army, allowing the rebels to seize territory. But Danahar ends with President Barack Obama regretting, in retrospect, that the West hadn’t worked out a plan for what to do after Gaddafi’s overthrow. It beggars belief that 8 years after they made that gross mistake in Iraq (what do you do after you overthrow the dictator), America admitted it had made the exact same mistake in Libya. History is the blackest of black comedies.

Syria

Danahar makes one big point about Syria, which is that when protests against the authoritarian rule of Bashar al-Assad began and then turned violent, a sizeable proportion of the Syrian population did not join the protests because they had seen what happened in neighbouring Iraq when a tyrant was overthrown i.e. descent into sectarian civil war. This was particularly true of non-Muslim minorities such as the sizeable number of Christians in Syria and the minority Alawi sect identified with the Assad family. Therefore a notable percentage of the population acquiesced in Assad’s rule, not because they supported him but because they were terrified of what would happen if he was overthrown. Therefore the protesters, rebels and insurgents couldn’t muster the widespread popular support they needed. Therefore Assad was able to keep enough of a powerbase to launch increasingly violent war against his own people (pages 321 and 375).

It started in March 2011 when 15 schoolchildren in the town of Dera’a were arrested and tortured for writing on a wall the slogan ‘The people want the overthrow of the regime’. On 18 March, after Friday prayers, some of the population gathered to protest the brutal treatment of the children whereupon the security forces opened fire and killed four. At the funeral of these dead, the security forces opened fire again, killing even more unarmed civilians. And so the city rose in rebellion, which spread to other cities.

Once again, the Arab League cocked it up:

‘Everyone missed the train on this crisis,’ a diplomat in Damascus told me. ‘The UN did not show up, the Europeans and Americans did not show up. They left it all in the hands of the Arab League. Then the Arab League started messing it up from day one. They are the ones who radicalised it.’ (p.379)

Three reasons why the Syria civil war is so intractable:

  1. Syria is a regionally, ethnically and religiously fragmented society. The opposition to the regime could never be united into one group, not by the UN or the US, not by the most proactive Gulf states Saudi and Qatar, not by the patronage of neighbouring Turkey; but obstinately persisted in fragmentary militias and parties.
  2. This was played on by Assad who sowed division between neighbour and neighbour, carrying out atrocities (massacring men, women and children in one village and blaming it on the different religion or ethnic group in the next village. Bosnia. Balkanisation. Spreading fear. Massacres, reprisals, revenge).
  3. The number of outside countries piling in to support their own groups and agendas, namely (pro-Assad) Iran and its proxy in Lebanon, Hezbollah, and Russia; (against Assad) Turkey, Saudi Arabia and Qatar. And then, of course, the hapless West in the shape of the bewildered Yanks, drawn into yet another Middle Eastern conflict they couldn’t resolve.

Sides in the Syrian civil war

Pro Assad

Russia had supported the house of Assad back in the Cold War days, Russia had business investments in Syria and a Russian naval base at Tartus. Russia sees Assad as a secular leader battling a sea of Islamic fundamentalists.

Iran supports Assad because a) Assad’s Alawite sect is an offshoot of Shia Islam and b) as a major regime in the Arab world beholden to them and thus a counterweight to anti-Iran Saudi Arabia.

Anti Assad

Saudi Arabia‘s main foreign policy concern is the rise and rise of Iran as a regional power; Iran quickly came to the aid of Assad, threatening to create a Shia arc of influence from Iran, through Iraq, through Syria, and on into Hezbollah-dominated Lebanon. The Saudis, despite their instinctive dislike of popular rebellion (which might threaten their own conservative monarchy) nonetheless opposed Iran’s ally Assad and began payrolling and supplying Islamic militias.

Qatar supplied arms and ammunition to Islamists with a view to creating a new government run by the Muslim Brotherhood.

Turkey, led by the Muslim populist Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and antipathetic to Assad’s secular militaristic regime, condemned Assad’s brutality, supported the rebels and, led by paranoia about the knock-on effect of Syrian Kurdish separatism for their own Kurdish region, has ended up occupying northern parts of Syria.

As so often, I wondered why America feels so obligated to get drawn into these toxic conflicts. Why doesn’t it just walk away and let them all slaughter each other? If this is what Arab culture amounts to – endless sectarian slaughter – why don’t America and the West leave them to enjoy it?

Danahar’s encouragement to intervene

The world

In his coverage of Syria Danahar did something which really pissed me off; he indulged in precisely the high-minded, moralising blackmail which dragged us into Afghanistan, Iraq and Libya, all considered disastrous. What I mean is he uses the kind of emotionally charged rhetoric which journalists can throw around without having to bother about the consequences:

Homs was where the wider world first learned of the savage brutality of the Assad regime and then realised it didn’t care enough to do much about it. Homs was where the world began its betrayal of the Syrian people. (p.379)

This is meretricious grandstanding. Who is this ‘world’ he talks of? Is he talking about you and me, did you betray the Syrian people? Or does he mean major international organisations like the UN and the EU? Well, the UN made repeated attempts to find a settlement but failed because of the intractable nature of the conflict: Assad refused to back down, the opposition weren’t united or strong enough to overthrow him, the backers of both sides (Iran and Russia versus Saudi and Qatar) also wouldn’t back down.

What does Danahar think ‘the world’ should have done so as not to betray the Syrian people? Invaded Syria and overthrown the tyrant? Joined the war as yet another outside player, and bombed the Syrian army into oblivion? We all know what happens when the West begins an air campaign (see Kosovo), within a matter of days it’s bombing civilian convoys or blowing up the Chinese embassy and its hands become as sullied as anyone else’s; and it may, eventually, lead to a ceasefire but not to a real solution (Kosovo).

Christopher Phillips book on Syria shows that everyone was delighted when the French-led bombing of Gaddafi’s forces in Libya emboldened the opposition and led to the dictator’s capture and brutal murder (October 2011) but then…Then the opposition collapsed into rival warlords and civil war, not unlike the chaos which followed the overthrow of Saddam eight years earlier, and now, 12 years later, Libya is in effect a failed state, divided into two feuding regimes.

The criticism made of ‘the West’ is that it didn’t follow up on the air strikes, didn’t engage with, fund and organise the opposition enough and steer them towards a unified settlement. But could they have? How much would that have cost? Should Barack Obama have gone to Congress and asked them to provide tens of billions more to send troops to supervise the reconstruction of Libya? Like they supervised the reconstruction of Iraq and Afghanistan? How many troops? For how long?

The one great conclusion of all the books I’ve read by Jack Fairweather, Frank Ledwidge, Thomas Ricks, Rory Stewart and Michael Ignatieff is that ‘the West’ needs to acknowledge that 1) it can intervene a lot less effectively in conflict zones than it used to think, 2) that its interventions are almost always counter-productive, and 3) its interventions always lead to more lives lost, not least among Western armed forces but also, always, among the local people.

So Danahar made me really cross by playing to the gallery and striking this bleeding heart pose of caring journalist stricken that ‘the world’ was just standing by and letting Assad murder his own people. What should we have done instead, Paul? Bomb Syria? Invade Syria? Assassinate Assad? Or should we have ‘cared’ more? What does that even mean?

The cavalry

Danahar concludes his Syria chapter with:

If the Arab Spring and the years that followed had been a revelation to the world, it had been an education for the Syrians too. The most important thing they had learned was this. While the war raged there would be no foreign cavalry marching over the horizon to save them. Until the fighting ended the Syrian people were on their own. (p.425)

This is objectionable on at least three grounds. 1) ‘Foreign cavalry’? He is, of course, talking about the much-maligned West but why, why, why should British and American (or Canadian or Danish) soldiers die in their hundreds because Bashar al-Assad is a murderous tyrant? We had a go at ‘saving’ the people of Iraq and the people of Afghanistan and you know what? Within weeks they had united in attacking the infidel crusader occupiers. This is Tony Blair’s line in his infamous Chicago speech where he put the case for humanitarian intervention if a dictator is massacring his own people; this was precisely the rationale behind his decision to back Dubya and send hundreds of British troops to their pointless deaths in Iraq. We intervened in Libya and fragmented the country.

Has Danahar learned nothing?

Why should ‘the West’ save the rest of the world? Libya, Iraq and Syria aren’t screwed-up disaster zones because of western imperialists from a hundred years ago, but because they were ruled by extremely typical Arab dictators who suppressed every form of civil society for decades so that, when they fell, none of their people knew how to run anything, all they knew was how to seize power for themselves, generally using extreme violence, and creating a political vacuum into which flooded psychopathic Islamic extremism. Well, the Arabs are welcome to the world they’ve created. There are 22 countries in the Arab League, including some of the richest in the world. Let them sort it out. Or, to turn it around, if Arabs can’t sort out Arab problems in Arab countries, why should anyone believe that non-Arab, non-Muslim outsiders can?

2) Anyway, Danahar is wrong. It’s not that there is no cavalry riding over the hill to save the Syrian people (good God, these trite Hollywood metaphors turn so many writers’ brains to mulch); it’s that there are too many cavalries riding over the hill. Danahar’s entire Syria chapter describes the intervention in Syria of Russia, Turkey, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, plus numerous jihadist factions (al Qaeda, ISIS). The problem isn’t lack of cavalry; Syria is overrun with cavalry.

(And I am just reading Christopher Phillips’s long and mind-bogglingly detailed account of the Syrian civil war which lists in great detail precisely how much manpower, money and materiel poured into Syria from the half dozen main foreign players and beyond. Dozens of cavalries rode over that hill and then all started attacking each other.)

3) Anyway, ‘the world’ did try to save Syria. Repeatedly. Christopher Phillips’s account goes into great detail about the repeated attempts of the UN, the EU, the Arab League, America and various other outside players to broker some kind of ceasefire and peace deal. Skimming through the Wikipedia article about the Syrian peace process gives you a good sense of the immense amount of diplomatic work which went in to repeatedly trying to find a solution. But Phillips’s account gives you a powerful sense of why all of them fell short, breaking on the complete intransigence of the Assad regime itself, or the vested interests of key players, namely Russia, Iran and Turkey.

So it seems both morally despicable to me that Danahar ends his long rambling book by slamming the West for not ‘riding to the rescue’ of yet another Arab country, as if ‘the world’ is as simple as a Hollywood movie. And it seems plain factually incorrect of him to say that ‘the world’ abandoned Syria, when ‘the world’ (UN, US, Arab League) made repeated, sustained efforts to stop the fighting.

Europe endured hundreds of years of barbaric wars until we finally fought ourselves to a standstill in 1945 (although plenty of low-level conflicts raged on for decades afterwards). Maybe other regions of the world are going to go through the same process, agonisingly, for centuries.

Or maybe this is just what human beings are like. Everywhere. And the fortunate billion who are lucky enough to live in the peace and plenty of Western Europe and the Anglosphere are enjoying a blip in history, a window of relative stability, before the big impacts of global warming start to kick in and the entire global population collapses into growing instability and violence.

Maybe our idea of ‘human nature’ in ‘the West’ is hopelessly partial and incomplete because of the accident of history, the relative peace and plenty, we happen to be living through. And the people of Libya, Syria and Yemen, Sudan, Rwanda and Congo, of Bosnia and Afghanistan, of Sri Lanka, Timor, Cambodia and Myanmar, have a better grasp of what human beings are really like.

Conclusions

1. Overthrowing Arab dictators leads to worse repression…

Danahar’s book confirms what I thought at the time, when the Arab Spring revolts broke out back in 2011, as I followed events in the news. Naive young middle-class ‘revolutionaries’ took to the streets in spontaneous protests which weren’t centrally organised but snowballed and gathered their own momentum, leading to the overthrow of the ailing regimes and aged rulers in Tunisia, Libya and Egypt.

But being naive young fools who, apparently, had never read a history book in their lives, none of these impassioned demanders of freedom and democracy appear to have had an inkling that, when you overthrow a dictator, once all the partying and midnight rallies and wild drives through the capital honking your horn are over, the old brute isn’t automatically replaced with a government of liberals and progressives, as so many of the young urban protesters and their sympathisers in the West expected. Instead, he is likely to be replaced by the quickest to organise and most ruthless in seizing power (p.24).

Thus the overthrow of Charles I led to the repressively Puritan dictatorship of Oliver Cromwell; the overthrow of Louis XIV led to the repressive dictatorship of Robespierre; the overthrow of the Czar didn’t lead to the arrival of a moderate, modernising Duma but to a coup by the best organised and most ruthless party in Russia, the Bolsheviks. When the Shah of Iran was overthrown he wasn’t replaced by a moderate, sensible etc but by the repressive religious fundamentalism of Ayatollah Khomenei. And so on, forever.

(This pretty obvious point, that in a revolution the moderates are overwhelmed by the extremists, is made by Christopher Phillips in his excellent book ‘The Battle for Syria’, page 189, as he explains the logic which led moderate protesters to be outflanked by extremists until the extemest of the extremists, Islamic State, seized huge swathes of eastern Syria and western Iraq.)

2. Or, alternatively … chaos

Or you get scenario two: if there is no single organised party in waiting to step into the vacuum then … there will be chaos. In 2003 Saddam Hussein was overthrown in Iraq. Result? Chaos, rise of religious intolerance, civil war and ethnic cleansing. Apparently, the protesters who marched against Ben Ali in Tunisia, Gaddafi in Libya, Mubarak in Egypt, and Assad in Syria, were unaware of the example of Iraq, an Arab country like theirs, where a dictator just like theirs was forcibly overthrown. I appreciate they thought their countries would be different, and that they weren’t initially marching for regime change just for reform to make their lives less unbearable. What I’m struck by is how many of them, and their naive backers in the West, were so surprised when what happened in Iraq proceeded to happen in their countries, too.

In 2011 Gaddafi was overthrown. Result? Chaos, civil war, division of country between rival warlords. In 2011 the good people of Syria tried to overthrow their ‘Grandad’, Bashar al-Assad. Result? Syria became the most fought-over place in the world, with at least 12 different parties, factions, militias, ethnic groups and neighbouring countries all fighting each other.

I’ve just finished reading Jessica Stern and J.M. Berger’s book ‘ISIS: The State of Terror (2015) towards the end of which they make one simple but dazzlingly important point:

The only thing worse than a brutal dictatorship is no state at all. (ISIS: The State of Terror, p.237)

Or, as Barbara Bodine one-time US ambassador to Yemen puts it in Danahar’s book:

‘I don’t know anybody who liked dealing with dictators but there’s a perverse simplicity to it.’ (p.3)

Or as Danahar himself puts it:

In Egypt, where revolutionaries failed to smash the old regime, its remnants quietly nurtured and nourished those insecurities and plotted a return. In Libya, where the regime was destroyed, young men with guns bullied their way into the vacuum. In Syria, where the state held firm, it did so by unleashing the most appalling violence. It plotted to divide its opposition by setting neighbour against neighbour until no-one knew whom to trust…The Iraqi leadership [Nouri al-Maliki] pulled its country back into the sectarian abyss. The regional mayhem left many longing for the miserable certainties of their old lives under dictatorships. (p.4)

3. A cause of points 1 and 2 is the lack of democratic leaders in the Arab world

There’s a third aspect to the problem, which is less attention-grabbing than the previous two but equally if not more important. In Jack Fairweather’s book about the West’s wars in Iraq and Afghanistan he makes the simple point that, once the Coalition had overthrown Saddam Hussein, it discovered that … there were no moderate, democratically-minded leaders to step into the breach.

America, as it always does in these situations (see Korea, see Vietnam) favoured a long-time exile from the country in question to become leader, in the case of Iraq, Ayad Allawi mainly because he’d spent decades lobbying and brown-nosing in Washington, cultivating the right people and persuading them that he would favour US interests. The only catch was that Allawi was almost completely unknown in Iraq and had no constituency. So when Allawi was imposed on the political turmoil post-Saddam, the only interest he was seen as representing was the invader’s.

Meanwhile, potential leaders who had remained in country during the dictatorship, often did so because they represented intractable constituencies which were too big for the dictator to tackle directly and could rely on a long tradition of resistance to central rule.

When change came, these local, often tribal leaders carried on representing their constituencies against what they perceived as just one more form of centrally imposed government, just as they had opposed all previous forms of central administration. This category includes the cleric Muqtada al-Sadr, who had fierce support among Iraq’s impoverished urban Shi’a communities, but also rogues like Abu Hatem, the self styled Prince of the Marshes, in the south, or the leaders of the two main Kurdish guerrilla armies in the north.

Thus Iraq had political ‘leaders’, but none of them the kind of democratically minded, technocratic, moderate politicians who, in western countries, can be assigned responsibility for government departments and expected to run them with a modicum of ability and fair mindedness. Nothing like.

Fairweather’s point is that there was an almost complete absence of those kind of people in Iraq and a total absence in Afghanistan. Instead, as this account suggests, you had a squabble of figures who had historically only represented one tribe or religious group or region. None of them had a national perspective and it was hoping too much to expect them to put national interests first, above the very community loyalties which had brought them to power and sustained them, sometimes for decades.

Therefore, it was entirely natural and predictable that into the vacuum created by overthrowing the old dictator did not step a cohort of Scandinavian-style, well-educated and democratically-minded politicians and technocrats, but instead a squabbling rivalry of warlords, drug barons, ethnic and religious sectarians, whose sole concern was representing the interest of ‘their’ people, placing as many of ‘their’ people in ministries and positions of power as possible, and then stealing as much money as possible from the state, for themselves and to pay off their chief backers and supporters.

Frank Ledwidge can barely bring himself to call the Afghan government a government at all, referring to it instead as a gang of warlords and drug barons who the international community gave tens of billions of dollars to, which the crooks used to build up property portfolios in the West, salt away in Swiss bank accounts and pay off their entourages. Danahar, also, refers to ‘atrocious leadership’ as being one of the basic political facts of the Middle East (p.4).

Christopher Phillips, in his detailed book about Syria, points out that, although the opposition rallied round the idea of getting rid of the wretched Bashar al-Assad, nobody – not the Americans, the Saudis, the Qataris, none of the rebels armies or jihadist groups – could think of a suitable replacement, could think of an alternative leader for the country, which goes a long way to explaining why the Syrian civil war rumbles on to the present day.

Before you start campaigning to overthrow your dictator have a plan about who you’re going to replace him with.

So: these are three well-established realities which should have informed everyone’s thinking about the so-called Arab Springs. Anyone bearing them in mind would not have been in the least surprised when overthrowing Gaddafi led to the collapse of Libya into civil war, when protests in Yemen led to civil war, when the uprising in Syria led to the bitterest civil war anywhere for decades. Egypt got off lightly when the Muslim Brotherhood, which had been clamouring for power for generations, turned out, once handed power, to be rubbish at ruling and were replaced within two years by yet another military regime. Given the chaos erupting in countries to the west and east and south (with yet another civil war kicking off in Sudan, as of spring 2023), I’d say the Egyptians got off lightly. An oppressive authoritarian state is miles better than no state at all.

4. Should the West intervene?

No. Read any of the last ten books I’ve reviewed about Britain and America’s interventions in Afghanistan and Iraq to understand why. The fundamental reason is not that Arab nations refuse to be ‘democratised’ by outsiders, or that Arab nations are particularly unsuited to ‘democracy’, or that we in the West are staggeringly ignorant and simple-minded in our understanding of Arab culture – though all these things are true.

The main objection is simply that we’re useless at intervening. As Stern and Berger put it in their book about ISIS:

The rise of ISIS is to some extent the unintended consequence of Western intervention in Iraq. Coalition forces removed a brutal dictator from power but they also broke the Iraqi state. The West lacked the patience, the will and the wisdom to build a new, inclusive one. (ISIS: The State of Terror by Jessica Stern and J.M. Berger, page 238)

On Radio 4 today I heard a woman journalist in Afghanistan passionately reporting on the oppression of women in Afghanistan. Taliban government. Fundamentalist Islam. Oppression of women. Which bit comes as a surprise?

The only interest in listening to her piece came from wondering: what, exactly, does this woman journalist expect us to do about it? Invade Afghanistan, overthrow the Taliban and put in place a moderate, modernising regime? Reconstruct the country’s infrastructure and be greeted everywhere as friends and liberators?

Um. Didn’t we just get through trying that? In Iraq and Afghanistan, both? And how did they turn out? Social collapse, bloody civil war, mass refugees, while a) losing lots of Western soldiers killed by ‘insurgents’ , b) killing tens of thousands of innocent civilians, c) stoking civil war and ethnic cleansing, and d) achieving nothing permanent in the way of ‘reconstruction’ or ‘development’, despite e) spending over $2 trillion in both countries. Shall we try that again? No.

Maybe we will finally learn the hard lesson which Michael Ignatieff’s series of books about the new world disorder lead up to, echoed in Frank Ledwidge’s two analyses of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the moral of Rory Stewart’s detailed, acerbic account of his time as governor of an Iraqi province – which is that western governments and international bodies need to be much, much, much more realistic about the pitifully little that they can achieve by intervening in the internal affairs of failing states; and much, much, much, much more cautious about where we intervene and why, and what we can realistically expect the outcomes to be.

The harsh reality is that our interventions are almost always catastrophically counter-productive. We are, quite simply, useless at ‘nation building’, for the scores of reasons listed in Ignatieff, Ledwidge, Fairweather and Stewart’s books.

So the girls and women of Afghanistan will suffer from the oppressive behaviour of the men of Afghanistan for the foreseeable future. Just as the people of Syria, Yemen and Sudan will continue to endure unending civil wars, the Uyghur Muslims and Tibetans will suffer under China’s oppression, the Amazonian Indians will be wiped out, hundreds of thousands of people will starve to death each year in Africa, and any country neighbouring Russia is likely to be invaded and devastated by Putin’s brutal armies.

That’s what the world is like. I didn’t create it. I don’t approve of it. I’m just trying to understand it by unsentimentally studying the facts of how we humans actually behave.


Credit

The New Middle East: The World After The Arab Spring by Paul Danahar was published by Bloomsbury Books in 2013. References are to the revised 2015 paperback edition.

Related links

New world disorder reviews

Orientalism by Edward Said (1978) part 1

(I believe you pronounce his surname Si-, to rhyme with sky, and -eed; Edward Si-eed.)

Orientalism created a big splash when it was published way back in 1978, nearly 50 years ago. It opened doorways into radical new ways of thinking about imperialist history and culture. It has gone on to be translated into more than 40 languages and had an immense influence right across the humanities. It’s a classic of cultural criticism.

An example of its ongoing impact is the way the very first wall label which introduced the 2019 exhibition at the British Museum about the interplay between the Muslim world and Europe – Inspired by the East – quotes page one of Orientalism and then liberally applies Said’s perspectives throughout the rest of the show. It may nowadays be impossible to discuss the cultural and ideological aspects of Western imperialism, specifically as it affected the Middle East and India, without taking into account his perspective and sooner or later mentioning his name.

There are probably four ways of considering the book:

  1. The thesis.
  2. What the text actually says, its discussion of individual Orientalists (I try to give a summary in part 2 of this review).
  3. Its implications and influence.
  4. The practical political conclusions Said draws from his thesis.

Said’s thesis

Said’s thesis is relatively simple in outline and consists of a set of interlocking contentions:

The ‘West’ has always defined itself against the ‘East’. In earlier centuries, Europeans defined Christianity and Christendom partly by contrasting it with Islam and the Muslim world. In the imperial nineteenth century Europeans thought and conceived of themselves as energetic, dynamic, inventive and ‘advanced’ partly by comparing themselves with an ‘Orient’ which was slothful, decadent and ‘backward’.

But this entire notion of ‘the Orient’ is a creation, a fiction, a fantasy, created over centuries by Western scholars and writers and artists. It is a self-contained, self-referential image which is the product of Western fantasies and needs and bears little or no relationship to the confusing and complex reality of peoples and races and religions which actually inhabit the very varied territories which Europeans all-too-easily dismissed as ‘the Orient’.

These fantasies and fictions and fabrications about ‘the Orient’ were created by a sequence of Orientalist scholars, starting in the later 18th and continuing throughout the 19th centuries. Orientalism as a discipline began back in the 18th century with the first studies of Arabic, the Semitic languages and Sanskrit.

The bulk of Said’s text comprises portraits of, and analyses of the work of, the leading Orientalist scholars who, from the late eighteenth century onwards, founded and then developed what turned into an eventually enormous body of work, given the disciplinary name of Orientalism. This far-flung discipline, whose attitudes leeched into arts, sciences, anthropology, economics and so on, set out to categorise, inventorise, define, label, analyse and intellectually control every aspect of life and culture in ‘the Orient’.

This body of ‘knowledge’ ramified out through Western societies: it was packaged and distributed via newspapers, magazine articles, the new technology of photography, and informing, and in turned informed by, creative writing – novels and stories and poems about the ‘exotic East’ – and the arts – painting, sculpture and so on – to produce an immense, self-reinforcing, self-justifying network of verbal, textual, intellectual, ideological and artistic, popular, journalistic and political stereotypes and clichés about ‘the mysterious East’, and its supposedly sullen, childlike, passive, sensual and barbarous peoples.

Eventually this huge network of images and texts became received opinion, idées recues, hardened into ‘common sense’ about the Ottoman Empire, the Middle East and the Islamic world. And all of it – Said’s main and central point – was completely and utterly misleading.

Why did it thrive? How was it used? Said contends that this eventually huge set of preconceptions, this extensive set of prejudices, supported by leading scholars in the field, backed up by the narratives of various explorers and adventurers, given visual power in thousands of lush, late-Victorian paintings of the sensual, slothful, backward ‘Orient’, all this provided the discourse – the network of texts and images and ideas and phrases – which European rulers (of France and Britain in particular) invoked to justify invading, conquering, oppressing and exploiting those countries and peoples.

Orientalism justified empire. Orientalism provided the ideological, cultural, scientific and academic discourse which justified western colonialism.

When imperialist politicians, adventurers, soldiers or businessmen wrote or spoke to justify the imperial conquest and exploitation of the Middle East they quoted extensively from this storehouse of supposedly ‘objective’ academic studies, from supposedly ‘eye-witness’ accounts, from the widely diffused visual and verbal stereotypes and clichés of European artists, from what had become the received wisdom about ‘the Orient’ which ‘every schoolboy knows’ – in order to justify their imperial conquests and ongoing domination. But which were, in fact, the profoundly misleading creations of Orientalist scholars, ethnographers, writers, artists and so on.

The logical consequence of this sequence of arguments or worldview is that all Western narratives and images of the so-called ‘Orient’ produced during the 18th, 19th and indeed the first half of the twentieth centuries, are deeply compromised – because they all, wittingly or unwittingly, to a greater or lesser degree, helped to justify and rationalise the grotesque racism and unfair domination and economic exploitation of an entire region and all its peoples.

Orientalism is not only a positive doctrine about the Orient that exists at any one time in the West; it is also an influential academic tradition…as well as an area of concern defined by travellers, commercial interests, governments, military expeditions, readers of novels and accounts of exotic adventure, natural historians, and pilgrims to whom the Orient is a specific kind of knowledge about specific places, peoples and civilisations. (p.203)

Compromised learning

Said’s basic premise is that all knowledge, including academic knowledge, is not pure, objective truth, but highly constrained and shaped by the society, and people, which produced it.

My principle operating assumptions were – and continue to be –that fields of learning, as much as the works of even the most eccentric artist, are constrained and acted upon by society, by cultural traditions, by worldly circumstance, and by stabilising influences like schools, libraries, and governments; moreover, the both learned and imaginative writing are never free, but are limited in their imagery, assumptions, and intentions; and finally, that the advances made by a science like ‘Orientalism’ in its academic form are less objectively true than we like to think. (p.202)

Foucault

Said is a chronic name-dropper. He namechecks what has become the standard sophomore checklist of French and Continental literary and political theorists so very fashionable when the book was written. Thus he refers to Walter Benjamin, Antonio Gramsci and Louis Althusser. It’s notable that these are all Marxist theoreticians and critics, because, at bottom, his project is not only to inject contemporary politics back into academic discourse, but specifically left-wing, anti-imperialist politics. But the figure Said refers to most often (fourteen times by my count) is the French historian and critical theorist, Michel Foucault.

This is because Said’s thesis piggybacks on Foucault’s notion of discourse. Foucault was a French historian who studied the institutions of prisons and madhouses (among other subjects) with a view to showing how the entire discourse around such institutions was designed to encapsulate and promote state power and control over citizens, and in that very Parisian perspective, over citizens’ bodies. So you could argue that Said is copying Foucault’s approach, lock, stock and two smoking barrels, and applying it to his own area of interest (hobby horse) the colonial Middle East.

Contents

Rather than give my own impressionistic view of a book, I generally find it more useful for readers to see the actual contents page. Then we can all see what we’re talking about. Here’s the table of contents. (I give a detailed summary of the actual contents of the book in part 2 of this review; and a summary of the long Preface and Afterword in a third review):

Chapter 1. The Scope of Orientalism

‘Draws a large circle around all the dimensions of the subject, both in terms of historical time and experiences and in terms of philosophical and political themes.’

1. Knowing the Oriental

2. Imaginative Geography and its Representations: Orientalising the Oriental

3. Projects

4. Crisis

Chapter 2. Orientalist Structures and Restructures

‘Attempts to trace the development of modern Orientalism by a broadly chronological description, and also by the description of a set of devices common to the work of important poets, artists and scholars.’

1. Redrawn frontiers, Redefined Issues, Secularised Religion

2. Silvestre de Sacy and Ernest Renan: Rational Anthropology and Philological Laboratory

3. Oriental Residence and Scholarship: The Requirements of Lexicography and Imagination

4. Pilgrims and Pilgrimages, British and French

Chapter 3. Orientalism Now

‘Begins where its predecessor left off at around 1870. This is the period of greatest colonial expansion into the Orient…the very last section characterises the shift from British and French to American hegemony. I attempt to sketch the present intellectual and social realities of Orientalism in the United States.’

1. Latent and Manifest Orientalism

2. Style, Expertise, Vision: Orientalism’s Wordliness

3. Modern Anglo-French Orientalism in Fullest Flower

4. The Latest Phase

Said’s personal position

Limiting his scope to the Middle East

On page 17 of the introduction Said says that, in order to avoid writing a book about ‘the Orient’ in its widest definition, he’s going to limit himself to writing about Islam and the Middle East. Sounds like a reasonable plan, the kind of defining of the boundaries of an intellectual project which you’d expect in any objective academic study. But the last pages of the Introduction give a whole new spin to this decision. On page 11 he writes that:

No production of knowledge in the human sciences can ever ignore or disclaim its author’s own circumstances.

He says this in order to broach his own relationship with the entire subject, then goes on to indulge in more pages of autobiography than you’d expect in a scholarly work. He tells us that the subject is in fact very, very close to his heart.

My own experience of these matters are in part what made me write this book. The life of an Arab Palestinian in the West [he’s obviously referring to himself], particularly in America, is disheartening. There exists here an almost unanimous consensus that politically he [Said] does not exist, and when it is allowed that he does, it is either as a nuisance or as an Oriental. The web of racism, cultural stereotypes, political imperialism, dehumanising ideology holding in the Arab or the Muslim is very strong indeed, and it is this web which every Palestinian has come to feel is his uniquely punishing destiny. It has made matters worse for him [i.e. Said] to remark that no person academically involved with the Near East – no Orientalist, that is – has ever in the United States culturally and politically identified himself wholeheartedly with the Arabs… (p.27)

So the book really is by way of being a very personal (and I use the word with knowing irony) crusade, coming out of his own personal experiences of discrimination and erasure, or, as he puts it in the 1994 Afterword to the book, from:

an extremely concrete history of personal loss and national disintegration. (p.338)

And written in the passionate hope that, by revealing the power structures behind the academic discipline of Orientalism in all its manifold forms, he can overthrow the false dichotomy between Orient and Occident, between East and West.

It’s a judgement call whether you find this frankness about his personal investment in the project admirably honest and an example of fessing up to the kind of personal position behind the text which his project sets out to expose in so many Orientalist scholars – or whether you think it reveals a highly partisan, parti pris perspective which invalidates his approach.

Said’s involvement in the Palestine-Israel problem overshadows the work

Said goes on to tie his detailed cultural analysis to a highly controversial contemporary political issue, namely the ever-fraught Israel-Palestine situation, as screwed up back in 1978 as it remains today. Crucially, his Introduction describes how this plays out in America culture, in academia and the media in the present day:

the struggle between the Arabs and Israeli Zionism, and its effects upon American Jews as well as upon liberal culture and the population at large (p.26)

In other words, Said explicitly ties his analysis of historical Orientalism to the bang up-to-date (albeit nearly 50 years old) political and cultural view of the Arab-Israeli conflict held inside American academia and the media and political establishments. This is obviously a perilous approach because the liveness of the current political debate around Israel-Palestine continually threatens to overshadow his academic, scholarly findings or ideas.

And Said was in fact far from being a distant academic viewer of the conflict. Said’s Wikipedia page tells us that from 1977 until 1991 he was a member of the Palestinian National Council (PNC) and deeply involved in negotiations to try and find a two-state solution to the Palestinian Problem.

1) It’s ironic that his book accuses all Orientalist scholars of being parti pris and biased, even if they don’t know it, while he himself is phenomenally biased and parti pris. But that’s a small point, and one he was perfectly aware of. He is perfectly clear about not really believing in the possibility of disinterested academic research:

I find the idea of strict scholarly work as disinterested and abstract hard to understand. (p.96)

2) More importantly, his political involvement threatens to a) distract from and b) overshadow Said’s entire project. In practice it meant he was forever getting dragged into stupid media squabbles, like the one featured on his Wikipedia page about him throwing a stone in Lebanon which managed to get blown up into press headlines about ‘The Professor of Terror’.

This is an American problem and links into the issues of the power of the Jewish lobby in Washington which is itself (as I understand it) linked to the even larger power of the fundamentalist Christian lobby in Washington, which (as I understand it) strongly supports the state of Israel for theological and eschatological reasons.

All I’m saying is that Said positions himself as someone who is bravely and pluckily bringing ‘politics’ into academia, revealing the power structures and political motivations behind an entire academic discipline, ‘Orientalism’, and good for him. But it’s a double-edged and very sharp sword. He who lives by politics dies by politics. Discussing radical political theory is relatively ‘safe’, as so many Marxist academics prove; but if you bring clarion calls about one of the most contentious issues in international affairs right into the heart of your academic work, and you shouldn’t be surprised if your political opponents will throw any mud to blacken your name.

Ironies

It’s a central irony of Said’s work that although he went to great lengths to expose the Islamophobia at the heart of the Orientalist project, he himself, despite being of Palestinian heritage, was not a Muslim, but had been raised a Christian.

In other words, all his writings about how Orientalists write about Islam without being inside it, without understanding it, without giving voices to Islam itself – the very same accusations could be brought against him.

From start to finish his book lambasts Westerners for speaking over the Orient, for never giving it a voice so it is a delicious irony that:

  1. There are no Muslim voices in his book – as far as I can tell he doesn’t quote one Arab or Muslim scholar anywhere, so he’s largely replicating a practice he is fiercely critical of.
  2. Said himself is not a Muslim – he lambasts various Western simplifications and demonisations of Islam with a strong sense of ownership and partisanship – but he himself comes from a completely different tradition.

I’m not saying either of these aspects negate his argument: but the whole thrust of the book is to teach us to pay more attention to the political aims and ideologies underlying apparently ‘objective’ academic texts, to question every author’s motives, to question the power structures they are part of and which permit their teaching, their research, their publishing. So these thoughts arise naturally from Said’s own promptings.

Problems and counter-arguments

Despite its astonishing success and the widespread adoption of its perspective throughout the humanities, Orientalism has many problems and issues.

Defining the ‘Orient’ and ‘Orientalism’

For a start, Said’s use of the word ‘Orient’ is extremely slippery. Sometimes he is referring just to the Middle East, sometimes he includes all of Muslim North Africa, sometimes he is referring to the entire Islamic world (which stretches to Indonesia in the Far East), sometimes he throws in India, the jewel in the crown of the British Empire, whichever suits him at the time.

In an ironic way Said’s definition(s) of Orientalism are as slippery and detached from reality as he says Orientalists’ discourse about ‘the Orient’ were.

One upshot of this is that you get right to the end of the book without ever reading a simple, definitive, usable definition of the central word. Here’s what the Etymological Dictionary has to say about ‘Orient’:

Late 14th century: ‘the direction east; the part of the horizon where the sun first appears,’ also (now with capital O-) ‘the eastern regions of the world, eastern countries’ (originally vaguely meaning the region east and south of Europe, what is now called the Middle East but also sometimes Egypt and India), from Old French orient ‘east’ (11th century), from Latin orientem (nominative oriens) ‘the rising sun, the east, part of the sky where the sun rises,’ originally ‘rising’ (adj.), present participle of oriri ‘to rise’.

Same applies to his slipperiness in defining what ‘Orientalism’ means. He gives at least ten distinct definitions (on pages 41, 73, 95, 120, 177, 202, 206, 300 and more) but it’s possible to arrive at the end of the book without have a really crystal clear definition of his ostensibly central concept.

Said is not a historian

This really matters because he is dealing with history, the history of European empires and of the texts which, he claims, though written by supposed ‘scholars’, in practice served to underpin and justify imperial rule. But thousands of historians of empire have passed this way before him and his text , whenever it strays into pure history, feels like history being done by an amateur.

It feels particularly true when he again and again suggests that what underpinned the British and French Empire’s control of their colonial subjects was the academic knowledge grouped under the heading Orientalism – and takes no account of some pretty obvious other factors such as economic, technological or military superiority.

In a sense he can’t afford to for at least two reasons: 1) because if he did get into, say, the economic basis of empire, his account would end up sounding like conventional history, and second-rate economic history at that; 2) literature and scholarly texts are his stomping ground a) because he’s just more familiar with them b) because his central premise is that knowledge is power; conceding that there are other types of power immediately undermine the narrow if intense scope of his book.

Histories of empires

In the introduction Said says that the chief imperial powers in the Middle East and India were a) Britain and France through to the mid-twentieth century, and b) America since.

This feels a bit gappy. John Darwin’s brilliant comparative study of the Eurasian empires, After Tamerlane, teaches us that ’empire’ has been the form of most governments of most civilisations for most of history. Imperialism is the ‘natural’ form of rule. It’s ‘democracy’ which is historically new, problematic and deeply unstable.

Were the British and French empires somehow unique?

No, in two ways. Taking a deep historical view, Darwin shows just how many empires have ruled over the Middle East over the past two and a half thousand years, namely: the Assyrian Empire, the Babylonian Empire, the Parthian Empire, the Persian Empire, the Moghul Empire, the Athenian Empire, the Roman Empire, the Byzantine Empire, the Seljuk Empire, various Muslim caliphates who concentrated on conquering territory the Umayyad Caliphate, the Abbasid Caliphate, and the Ottoman Empire (or Caliphate). So the British Empire’s relatively brief period of control was neither the sole nor the most important influence.

The role of the Ottoman Empire in falling to pieces during the nineteenth century, leading to mismanagement, repression and the rise of nationalist movements across its territories is never given enough credit in these kinds of books. It’s always the French and British’s faults, never the Turks’.

Second, focusing on Britain and France may be justified by the eventual size of their territorial holdings, but downplays the rivalry with and interference of other European imperial powers. For example, Sean McMeekin’s brilliant book ‘The Berlin-Baghdad Express: The Ottoman Empire and Germany’s Bid for World Power, 1898 to 1918‘ shows how the newly united German Reich (or empire) elbowed its way into the Middle East, with its own Orientalising scholars and preconceptions.

And Said completely ignores the Russian Empire. For me this is the most interesting empire of the 19th century because I know nothing about it except that it expanded its control relentlessly across central Asia, as far as the Pacific where it eventually got into a war with Japan (1905). But long before that Russia had ambitions to expand down through the Balkans and retake Constantinople from the Turks, re-establishing it as a new Christian city, the Second Rome. This is one of the most mind-boggling aspects of Orlando Figes’s outstanding book about The Crimean War (1853 to 1856).

Blaming Britain and France just feels like blaming ‘the usual suspects’. Very limited.

Putting politics back into scholarship

He says on numerous occasions that 19th century Orientalist scholars claimed that their work was objective and scholarly and completely unconnected with the way their countries exercised imperial dominion over the countries whose cultures they studied – and that this was of course bullshit. The Orientalist scholars were only able to carry out their studies because they could travel freely across those countries as if they were the members of the imperial ruling caste. Therefore his project is very simple: it is to put the politics back into supposedly neutral, ‘detached’ scholarly analysis.

This struck me as being very Marxist. It was Marx who suggested that cultures reflect the interests of the ruling class, aristocratic art in the 17th and 18th centuries, bourgeois art and literature with the rise of the industrial bourgeoisie in the 19th century – and made the point which underpins Said’s whole position, that supposedly ‘neutral’ bourgeois scholarship always always always justifies and underpins the rule of the bourgeoisie, there’s nothing ‘neutral’ about it.

Christendom versus Islam

Said claims that Western civilisation, that Christendom, largely defined itself by contrast with the Muslim world for 1,000 years from the rise of Islam to the decline of the Ottoman Empire, as if this is a subversive insight. But to anyone who knows European history it’s obvious. Expansionist militarist Islam had already seized half the territory of the former Roman Empire and threatened to invade up through the Balkans and, potentially, exterminate Christendom. You would notice something like that. I’d have thought it was schoolboy-level obvious.

General thoughts

The Other

At regular intervals Said invokes the notion of ‘the Other’ which is always presented in critical books like this as if it was a big bad bogeyman, but I always find the idea a) childish b) too simplistic. If you read Chaucer you’ll see that his notion of ‘the Good’ is defined in hundreds of ways, most of which have nothing to do with Islam. OK when he refers to the Crusades (the Knight’s Tale) he does mention Islam. But there’s lots of other things going on in European texts, lots of ways of creating value and identity, which Said just ignores in order to ram home his point.

It’s an irony that Said says the use of the simple binary of East and West is too simplistic but then uses an even more simplistic term, ‘the Other’, replacing one simplistic binary with another which just sounds more cool.

What if the East really is a threat to the West?

Fear of the Other is always treated in modern humanities, in countless books, plays, documentaries, in artworks and exhibition texts, as if it is always a bad thing, irrational, can only possibly be prompted by racism or sexism or xenophobia or some undefined ‘anxiety’.

But what if things really do get worse the further East you go? What if the governments of Eastern Europe, such as Poland or Hungary, really are worryingly authoritarian and repressive? What if the largest country in the world, which dominates ‘the East’, Russia, has clearly stated that Western liberal democracy is finished, carries out cyber-warfare against infrastructure targets in the West, and has invaded and committed atrocities in a West-friendly neighbour? What if ‘the East’ is a source of real active threat?

As to the Middle East, what if it is subject to one or other type of civil war, insurgency, and horrifying acts of Islamic terrorism, widespread atrocities committed in the name of Allah, and the region’s chronic political instability?

And further East, what if the most populous nation on earth, China, is also known to be carrying out cyber attacks against Western targets, operates spy networks in the West, and is raising tensions in the Pacific with talk of an armed invasion of Taiwan which could escalate into a wider war?

Isn’t it a simple recognition of the facts on the ground to be pretty alarmed if not actually scared of many of these developments? I don’t think being worried about Russian aggression makes me racist. I don’t think being appalled by barbaric acts in the Middle East (ISIS beheading hostages, Assad barrel-bombing his own populations) means I’m falling prey to Orientalist stereotypes.

I don’t think I’m ‘Othering’ anybody, not least because there are lots of players in these situations, lots of nations, lots of governments, lots of militias and ethnic and religious groups, so many that simply summarising them as ‘the Other’ is worse than useless. Each conflict needs to be examined carefully and forensically, doing which generally shows you the extreme complexity of their social, political, economic, religious and ethnic origins.

Just repeating the mantras ‘Oriental stereotyping’ and ‘fear of the Other’ strikes me as worse than useless.

Britain and the East

Said goes on at very great length indeed about the British Empire and its patronising stereotyped attitudes to ‘the East’, ‘the Orient’ and so on.

But, because he’s not a historian, he fails to set this entire worldview within the larger perspectives of European and British history. Attacks and threats have always come from the East.

The ancient Greeks and Romans feared the East because that’s where the large conquering empires came from: the Persian Empire which repeatedly tried to crush the Greek city states and the Parthian Empire’s threat to the Romans went on for centuries. When Rome was overthrown it was by nomadic warrior bands from ‘the East’.

As to Islam, all of Europe was threatened by its dynamic expansion from the 7th century onwards, which conquered Christian Byzantium and pushed steadily north-west as far as modern Austria, while in the south Muslim armies swept away Christian Roman rule across the whole of North Africa, stormed up through Spain and conquered the southern half of France. They were only prevented from conquering all of France – which might have signalled the decisive overthrow of Christian culture in Europe – had they not been halted and defeated at the Battle of Tours in 732.

As to Britain, we were, of course, invaded again and again for over a thousand years. Britain was invaded and conquered by the Romans, invaded and conquered by the Anglo-Saxons, invaded and conquered by the Vikings, then invaded and conquered by the Normans.

Attacks on Europe always come from the East and attacks on Britain always come from the East. Napoleon threatened to invade in the early 1800s and in the later part of the nineteenth century many Britons lived in paranoid fear of another French invasion. Hitler threatened to invade and obliterate British culture in the name of a horrifying fascism.

So the fundamental basis of these views isn’t some kind of persistent racism, isn’t fancy ideas about ‘the Other’ or ‘imperial anxiety’, it’s a basic fact of geography. Look at a map. Where else are attacks on Europe, and especially Britain, going to come from? The Atlantic? No, from the East.

Throughout European history the East has been synonymous with ‘threat’ because that’s where the threat has actually come from, again and again and again. For me, these are the kinds of fundamental geographical and historical facts which Said simply ignores, in order to sustain his thesis.

And what if the Orient actually was alien, weak, corrupt and lazy?

Said repeats over and over again that Western, Orientalising views of the Middle East or Islam loaded it with negative qualities – laziness, inefficiency, corruption, violence, sensuality – in order to help us define and promote our own wonderful values, of hard work, efficiency, honesty in public life, good citizenship, Protestant self restraint and so on.

You can see what he’s on about and I accept a lot of what he says about Western stereotyping, but still… what if the West was, well, right. This is where a bit of history would come in handy because even modern, woke, post-Said accounts of, say, the declining Ottoman Empire do, in fact, depict it as corrupt, racked with palace intrigue, home to astonishing brutality from the highest level (where rival brothers to the ruling Sultan were liable to be garrotted or beheaded) to public policy.

I’ve just been reading, in Andrew Roberts’s biography of Lord Salisbury, about the Bulgarian Atrocities of 1876 when an uprising of Bulgarian nationalists prompted the Ottoman Sultan to send in irregular militias who proceeded to rape, torture and murder every Bulgarian they came across, with complete impunity. Up to 30,000 civilians were slaughtered, prompting the British government to abandon its former stalwart support for the Ottomans. My point is this wasn’t invented by Orientalists to justify their racist stereotypes about the violent barbaric East; nobody denies that it happened, it was widely publicised at the time, and it moulded a lot of people’s opinions about Ottoman rule based on facts.

Anybody who tried to do business or diplomacy with the Ottoman Empire quickly came to learn how corrupt and venal it was. So what happens to Said’s thesis that all these views were foundationless stereotypes, artificial creations of the racist Western imagination – if historical accounts show that inhabitants of the Orient, which he defines at the Middle East, really were lazy, inefficient, corrupt, violent.

For example, in his book about the railway line which the Kaiser wanted to build to Baghdad, Sean McMeekin describes the comic meeting between German engineers and Turkish labourers. No ‘Orientalism’ was required for the contrast between Teutonic discipline and efficiency and the corrupt, lazy ineffectiveness of the Turks to be clear to all involved.

Said’s style

Said is long-winded and baggy. He never uses one word or concept where fifteen can be crammed in. Moreover, he is clearly aspiring to write in the high-falutin’ style of the Parisian intellectuals of the day, Roland Barthes or Michel Foucault, who used recherché terms and tried to crystallise new ideas by emphasising particular terms, words used in new, lateral ways, teasing out new insights. At least he hopes so. Here’s a slice of Said, made up of just two sentences.

Orientalism is not a mere political subject matter or field that is passively reflected by culture, scholarship, or institutions; nor is it a large and diffuse collection of texts about the Orient; nor is it representative and expressive of some nefarious ‘Western’ imperialist plot to hold down the ‘Oriental’ world. It is, rather, a distribution of geopolitical awareness into aesthetic, scholarly, economic, sociological, historical, and philological texts; it is an elaboration not only of a basic geographical distinction (the world is made up of two unequal halves, Orient and Occident) but also of a whole series of ‘interests’ which, by such means as scholarly discovery, philological reconstruction, psychological analysis, landscape and sociological description, it not only creates but also maintains; it is, rather than expresses, a certain will or intention to understand, in some cases to control, manipulate, even to incorporate, what is a manifestly different (or alternative and novel) world; it is, above all, a discourse that is by no means in direct, corresponding relationship with political power in the raw, but rather is produced and exists in an uneven exchange with various kinds of power, shaped to a degree by the exchange with power political (as with a colonial or imperial establishment), power intellectual (as with reigning sciences like comparative linguistics or anatomy, or any of the modern policy sciences), power cultural (as with orthodoxies and canons of taste, texts, values), power moral (as with ideas about what ‘we’ do and what ‘they’ cannot do or understand as ‘we’ do). (p.12)

That second sentence is quite exhaustingly long, isn’t it? In my experience, you often get to the end of Said’s huge unravelling sentences with the impression that you’ve just read something very clever and very important, but you can’t quite remember what it was.

A key element of his style, or his way of thinking, is the deployment of lists. He loves long, long lists of all the specialisms and areas which he claims his ideas are impacting or pulling in or subjecting to fierce analysis (power political, power intellectual, power cultural, power moral and so on).

On the one hand, he is trying to convey through monster lists like this, a sense of the hegemony of Orientalist tropes i.e. the way they – in his opinion – infuse the entire world of intellectual discourse, at every level, and across every specialism. This aim requires roping in every academic discipline he can think of.

On the other hand, his continual complexifying of the subject through list-heavy, extended sentences, through the name-dropping of portentous critical theorists, threatens to drown his relatively straightforward ideas in concrete.

Said describes the process of close textual analysis very persuasively but, ironically, doesn’t actually practice it very much – he is much happier to proceed by means of lists of Great Writers and Orientalist Scholars, than he is to stop and analyse any one of their works.

He explains that it would be ‘foolish to attempt an encyclopedic narrative history of Orientalism’ but this is deeply disappointing. That might have been really solid and enduring project. Instead we are given a surprisingly random, digressive and rambling account.

His actual selection of example, of texts which he studies in a bit of detail, is disappointingly thin. This explains why you can grind your way through to the end of this densely written 350-page book and not actually have a much clearer sense of the history and development of the academic field of Orientalism.

And lastly, he just often sounds unbearably pompous:

And yet, one must repeatedly ask oneself whether what matters in Orientalism is the general group of ideas overriding the mass of material? (p.8)

One uses the phrase ‘self conscious’ with some emphasis here because… (p.159)

And his frequent straining for Parisian-style intellectual rarefication sometimes makes him sound grand and empty.

I mean to say that in discussions of the Orient, the Orient is all absence, whereas one feels the Orientalist and what he says as presence; yet we must not forget that the Orientalist’s presence is enabled by the Orient’s effective absence. (p.208)

No, no we must never forget that. Forgetting that would be dreadful.

Lastly, he cites quotations, sometimes quite long quotations, in French without bothering to translate them. This is impolite to readers. On a smaller scale he drops into his prose Latin or French tags with the lofty air of an acolyte of Erich Auerbach’s grand traditions of humanist criticism who expects everyone else to be fluent in French and German, Latin and Greek.

Nevertheless, [in French Orientalist Louis Massigon’s view] the Oriental, en soi, was incapable of appreciating or understanding himself. (p.271)

It would be more polite, and effective, to take the trouble to find adequate English equivalents.

Immigration

When the book was published, in 1978, there weren’t many immigrants of any colour in Britain and Said could confidently talk about scholars and an academic world, as well as the nation at large, which was largely white. In other words ‘Orientals’ were still rare and relatively unknown.

In the 45 years since the book was published, mass immigration has changed the nature of all Western countries which now include not only large communities of black and Asian people, but eminent black and Asian cultural, political and economic figures. As I write we have a Prime Minister, Home Secretary and mayor of London who are all of Asian heritage.

I dare say fans of Said and students of post-colonial studies would point out the endurance of ‘latent’ Orientalism i.e. the continuation of prejudice and bigotry against the Arab and Muslim and Indian worlds, especially since the efflorescence of vulgar imperialist nostalgia around the Brexit debate.

Nevertheless, I imagine the unprecedented numbers of what used to be called ‘Orientals’ who now routinely take part in Western political and cultural discourse, who write novels and plays, direct films, comment in newspapers and magazines, host TV shows and, of course, teach courses of postcolonial and subaltern studies, would require Orientalism to be comprehensively rethought and brought up to date.

The modern Middle East

At the end of the day, Orientalism is a largely ‘academic’ book in two senses:

1. On reading lists for students

Said primarily set out to change attitudes within universities and the humanities. In this he was dramatically successful, and it is impossible to read about the European empires and, especially, to read about 19th century imperial art, without his name being invoked to indicate the modern woke worldview, the view that almost all European arts and crafts which referenced ‘the Orient’ are morally, politically and culturally compromised or, as he bluntly puts it on page 204, racist, imperialist and ethnocentric.

Said provides some of the concepts and keywords which allow modern students of the humanities to work up a real loathing of Western civilisation. Good. The Russians want to abolish it, too.

Irrelevant for everyone else

But it’s also ‘academic’ in the negative sense of ‘not of practical relevance; of only theoretical interest’. What percentage of the public know or care about the opinions of nineteenth century Orientalist scholars? For all practical purposes, nobody. Who gets their ideas about the modern Middle East from the poetry of Gérard de Nerval, the letters of French novelist Gustave Flaubert or umpteen Orientalising Victorian paintings? Nobody.

I suggest that most people’s opinions about the Middle East derive not from poetry or paintings but from the news, and if they’ve been watching or reading the news for the last 20 years, this will have involved an enormous number of stories about 9/11, Islamic terrorism, Islamic terror attacks in London and Manchester and other European cities, about the 2001 US overthrow of the Taliban in Afghanistan, the 2003 coalition invasion of Iraq, the long troubled military struggles in both countries, the 2011 Arab Spring followed swiftly by civil war in Libya, the terrible civil war in Syria, the military coup in Egypt, the ongoing civil war in Yemen, and just recently the humiliating and disastrous US withdrawal from Kabul (2021).

Remember the heyday of Islamic State, the videos they shot of them beheading Western hostages with blunt knives? Footage of them pushing suspected gays off rooftops? Blowing up priceless ancient monuments?

Alongside, of course, the perma-crisis in Israel with its never-ending Palestinian intifadas and ‘rockets from the Gaza Strip’ and retaliatory raids by the Israeli Defence Force and the murder of Israeli settlers and the massacres of Palestinians, and so on and so on.

And you shouldn’t underestimate the number of Westerners who personally know people who fought in one or other of those wars; for example, 150,610 UK personnel served in Afghanistan and some 141,000 in Iraq. All those soldiers had family, who heard about their experiences and shared their (sometimes appalling) injuries and traumas. First hand testimony trumping Victorian paintings.

And quite a few Westerners have been affected by one or other of the many Islamic terrorist attacks on Western cities, starting with the 2,996 killed in the 9/11 attacks and all their extended families, the 130 people killed in the 2015 Bataclan attack in Paris, the families of the 22 people killed and 1,017 injured in the 2017 Manchester Arena bombing; or attacks on tourists in Muslim countries such as the 202 killed and 209 injured in the 2002 Bali bombings, numerous Islamist attacks in Egypt, Tunisia and other tourist favourites.

Compared to the images and news footage and reports and first hand experience of these kinds of events, I’m just suggesting that Said’s warning about the frightful stereotyping of the Orient carried out by nineteenth century and early twentieth century writers, artists and scholars is a nice piece of academic analysis but of questionable relevance to the views about Arabs, Muslims and the Middle East currently held by more or less everyone living in the contemporary world.

Said addresses this point by saying that there is a direct link between older imperial views and current views, that his entire project was not only to show the origins and development of Orientalist views but how they continue up to the present day to inform contemporary news and TV and magazine and political discourse about Islam and the Middle East.

But proving that would require a completely different kind of book, something from the field of media studies which examined how the tropes and stereotypes Said complains are utterly without foundation in the real world, have gained renewed life from actual events which people not only consume via TV and newspapers, but via social media, massacres filmed live, as they happen.

In the 1995 Afterword and 2003 Preface which he added to the book (and I review separately) he does indeed try to do this, but he died (in 2003) well before the advent of social media and cheap phones transformed the entire concepts of media, news and information out of recognition.

In almost all ways, this book feels as if it comes from a bookish, scholarly, library-based world which has been swept away by the digital age.

An interview with Edward Said (1998)

This interview was produced in 1998, so before 9/11, the Afghan War, the Iraq War, al-Qaeda, ISIS, the Arab Spring etc. If Said thought Western attitudes to Middle Eastern countries were bad then, what must he have made of the hugely negative shift in impressions caused by 9/11 and the subsequent wars (he passed away in September 2003, living just long enough to see the American invasion of Iraq, commenced in March 2003, start to unravel)? You could almost say that the interview hails from a more innocent age.

Practical criticism

See if you can identify the kind of essentialising Orientalist stereotypes about the Middle East, Arabs and Islam which Said describes in the coverage of the recent Hamas attack on Israel (I’m just giving the BBC as a starting point):


Credit

Orientalism by Edward Said was first published by Routledge and Kegan Paul in 1978. References are to the 2003 Penguin paperback edition (with new Afterword and Preface).

Related reviews

The Lesser Evil: Political Ethics in an Age of Terror by Michael Ignatieff (2004)

How should democracies respond to terrorist attacks? In particular, How much violence, secrecy and violations of human rights should a Western government deploy in order to safeguard a democratic state which, ironically, claims to deplore violence, secrecy and loudly promotes human rights?

How far can a democracy resort to these means without undermining and to some extent damaging the very values it claims to be defending?

How far can it go to deploy the lesser evil of abrogating some people’s human rights in order to ensure the greater good of ensuring the security and safety of the majority? These are the questions Ignatieff sets out to address in this book.

The book is based on a series of six lectures Ignatieff gave at the University of Edinburgh in 2003. Obviously the context for the lectures and their starting point was the aftermath of the 9/11 terrorist attacks on America.

Historical context – the War on Terror

It’s difficult now to recreate the mood of hysteria which gripped so much public discourse in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks. US President George W. Bush declared a War on Terror (18 September 2001) which justified major military attacks on Afghanistan (Operation Enduring Freedom starting 7 October 2001), then Iraq (Operation Iraqi Freedom starting 20 March 2003), alongside combat operations in a number of other Muslim countries (the Philippines, Sudan et al). The US Congress passed a law allowing the President to declare war on anyone he thought was a threat. In his State of the Union speech, 29 January 2002, Bush singled out three likely contenders as the so-called ‘Axis of Evil’, being Iran, Iraq and North Korea.

Apart from the mismanagement of the two major wars, in Afghanistan and Iraq, the most contentious aspect of the so-called War on Terror became what many perceived to be the egregious breaches of human rights which a newly bullish America began to practice. Critics claimed the so-called war was in reality an excuse for creating a hi-tech surveillance state, for reducing civil liberties and infringing human rights.

Within a month of the 9/11 attacks the US government passed the Patriot Act which included three main provisions:

  • expanded surveillance abilities of law enforcement, including by tapping domestic and international phones
  • easier inter-agency communication to allow federal agencies to more effectively use all available resources in counter-terrorism efforts
  • increased penalties for terrorism crimes and an expanded list of activities which would qualify for terrorism charges

The law upset human rights groups on various grounds, for example, the powers given law enforcement agencies to search property and records without a warrant, consent, or even knowledge of the targets. But the single most contentious provision was its authorisation of indefinite detention without trial, which became associated with the notorious detention centre at the Guantanamo Bay Naval Base in Cuba,

Ignatieff’s approach

The lectures were given at the heart of this period (2003), 18 months into the War on Terror, as the Patriot Act was still being rolled out, just after the US government launched its invasion of Iraq (March 2003).

In his introduction Ignatieff makes the point that already, by 2003, there was a well-developed legalistic literature on all these issues. He is not going to add to that (he isn’t a lawyer). He wants to take a broader moral point of view, bringing in philosophical and even literary writers from the whole Western tradition, to try and set the present moment in a much broader cultural context.

My purpose is…to articulate what values we are trying to save from attack. (p.xvii)

It’s worth noting that at the time he wrote and delivered these lectures, Ignatieff was the director of the Carr Center for Human Rights at Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government. I.e. he didn’t have an amateur, journalistic interest in these issues, but was a senior academic expert in them.

Contents

The text is full of Ignatieff’s trademark complex, subtle and often agonised moral reflections, mixing reportage on contemporary politics with references to writers of the past, continually teasing out subtle and often very illuminating insights. At the same time, as I worked my way through the rather laborious networks of arguments, I began to have less and less confidence in his arguments. Fine words butter no parsnips and seminars on moral philosophy can go on forever. What were his practical conclusions and recommendations?

Chapter 1. Democracy and the Lesser Evil

Democracies have often deployed coercive measures, seeing them as the lesser evil deployed to avert the greater evil of terrorism, civil conflict and so on. But it requires that the measures can be justified publicly, subject to judicial review, and have sunset clauses i.e. fixed lengths so they don’t become permanent features of the society.

Government infringement of its citizens’ rights must be tested under adversarial review. This idea recurs again and again in the text. The defining feature of democracies is intricate sets of checks and balances. If some rights have to be abrogated during emergencies, these suspensions can still be independently tested, by judges, by independent advisers, and they will eventually have to be revealed to the citizens for ultimate approval.

There is a spectrum of opinions on suspending civil liberties. At one end, pure civil libertarians maintain that no violations of rights can ever be justified. At the other end, pragmatists eschew moral principles and judge restrictive legislation purely on practical outcomes. Ignatieff is somewhere in the middle, confident that actions which breach ‘foundational commitments to justice and dignity – torture, illegal detention, unlawful assassination’ – should be beyond the pale. But defining precisely what constitutes torture, which detentions are or are not legal, where killing is or is not justified, that’s the problem area.

If lawyers and politicians and intellectuals are going to bicker about these issues forever i.e. there will never be fixed and agreed definitions, the one thing all good democrats can rally round is ‘to strengthen the process of adversarial review‘ i.e. to put in place independent review of government measures.

Chapter 2. The Ethics of Emergency

If laws can be abridged and liberties suspended during an ’emergency’, what remains of their legitimacy in times of peace? If laws are rules, and emergencies make exceptions to theses rules, how can their authority survive once exceptions are made? (p.25)

Chapter 2 examines the impact the emergency suspensions of civil liberties has on the rule of law and civil rights. Does the emergency derogation of normal rights strengthen or weaken the rule of law which we pride ourselves on in the Western democracies?

Ignatieff takes the middle ground that suspension of rights does not destroy them or undermine the normal practice of them, indeed helps to preserve them – provided they are ‘temporary, publicly justified, and deployed only as a last resort.’

Chapter 3. The Weakness of the Strong

Why do liberal democracies to habitually over-react to terrorist threats? Why do we seem so quick to barter away our liberties? One way to explain it is that majorities (i.e. most of us) are happy to deprive small and relatively powerless minorities (in the War against Terror, Muslims and immigrants) of their rights in order to achieve ‘security’.

But our opponents have rights, too. Just as in the debate over freedom of speech, any fool can approve free speech which they agree with, it’s harder to fight for the right of people to say things you dislike or actively think are wrong. But that is the essence of free speech, that is its crucial test – allowing the expression of opinions and views you violently disagree with, believe are wrong and immoral. It is precisely these kinds of views we should make every effort to allow free expression. ‘I may not agree with what you have to say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it,’ as Voltaire famously put it.

It’s easy and uncontroversial to defend the human rights of poets and activists who protested against apartheid or communist oppression. Much harder to insist that detainees being grabbed in Iraq or Syria or anywhere else in the Arab world and flown half way round the world and who might well be members of al Qaeda or ISIL, are provided just the same level of legal representation and rights as you and me. But that is exactly the test of our commitment to human rights: whether we extend them to our bitterest enemies.

Same goes for the other elements in the system of checks and balances, namely the other wings of government, the courts and the media. The temptation and the tendency is for everybody to ‘rally round the flag’ but this is exactly the opposite of what ought to happen. The American constitution vests power in the Presidency to take extraordinary steps in times of crisis or war but that is precisely the moment when the other elements in the division of power should increase their oversight of executive actions.

In his searing indictment of America’s mismanagement of the war in Iraq, Thomas E Ricks makes just this point. The build-up to the war involved questionable evidence (about weapons of mass destruction), wrong assumptions (about the response of the Iraqi population to foreign invasion), criminal mismanagement and the complete absence of a plan for the aftermath. While describing all this in forensic detail, Ricks points out that this is precisely the point when the administration’s plans should have been subjected to intense and critical scrutiny, something which might have saved tens of thousands of lives, billions of money, untold materiel. Instead, in the atmosphere of hysterical patriotism which gripped America, Congress rolled over and approved the plans with little serious examination and the press turned into bombastic cheerleaders. Both miserably failed to live up to the roles assigned to them in a free democratic society.

In fact most of this chapter is taken up with a useful and informative history of terrorism as a political tactic, starting with the Nihilists in nineteenth century Russia, then onto the two great loci of political violence, in revolutionary Russia and Weimar Germany, before turning to post-war terrorism in Latin America (Chile, Colombia, Peru), in Sri Lanka, in Israel, before cycling back to Europe and the 1970s terrorism of the Baader-Meinhof Gang and the Red Brigades, before a brief consideration of the separatist/nationalist terrorism faced by Britain in Northern Ireland and Spain in the Basque Country.

Ignatieff’s summary from this brief conspectus is that terrorism never works, it never achieves its political aims. The Russian and Weimar regimes weren’t undone by political violence but by the cataclysm of World War One and the Great Depression, respectively. Marxist terrorism in 1970s Germany and Italy aimed to create media spectaculars and psychological tipping points whereby the population would be woken from their slumber, rise up and overthrow the repressive bourgeois state etc. Complete failure with the terrorists either committing suicide or publicly recanting.

In Latin America political terrorism either produced the exact opposite of what was intended, for example in Argentina, where it helped a repressive military junta into power. Or, as in Sri Lanka and some extent Israel, it became a stalemate that extended over such a long period of time that it became the social reality of the country, giving rise to a society characterised by random atrocities, intimidation of local populations by the terrorists, and repressive state apparatuses. The host society wasn’t liberated and transformed but permanently degraded.

Ignatieff then considers how the British, on the whole, managed the Northern Ireland situation successfully by abrogating various civil rights but under the aegis of government and judicial review.

But part of the reason his review of traditional terrorism is so enjoyable is because it’s so familiar from decades of print and TV journalism – but this itself highlights, I think, a weakness of the whole book: which is that the campaign of al Qaeda and related groups was not to achieve political change (like the Marxist terrorist groups of the 1970s) or to achieve constitutional change / nationalist independence (as with the Basques or, at the other end of the Europe, the Kurdish terrorist groups in Turkey). Those aims could both be handled in Ignatieff’s model i.e. carefully incorporated into the existing political structures.

By contrast Al Qaeda wanted to destroy the West not only as a goal in itself but as part of an even grander aim which was to undermine the contemporary world order of nation-states and re-create the historical umma, the worldwide community of Muslims that was once held together under the caliphate of the prophet Mohammed. Osama bin Laden identified America as the chief bulwark of the existing world order, especially in the Arab world, where it subsidised and underpinned repressive states. So as a first step to remodelling the world, bin Laden ordered his followers to attack Western targets anywhere, at any time.

Ignatieff was writing in 2003. We had yet to have the 2004 Madrid train bombings (193 dead), the 7/7 2005 attacks in London (56 dead), the Boston Marathon bombing on 15 April 2013 (3 dead), the 18 March 2015 attack on a beach in Tunisia (21 dead), the 13 November 2015 attack at the Bataclan theatre in Paris (90 dead), the Manchester Arena bombing on 22 May 2017 (23 dead), plus numerous other Islamist atrocities in countries further afield.

If the central aim of al Qaeda and its affiliates is to kill and maim as many Westerners as possible, it’s difficult to see how this can be incorporated into any kind of political process. And in the next chapter Ignatieff indeed concludes that the organisation itself can only be defeated militarily.

Chapter 4. The Strength of the Weak

An examination of terrorism itself.

In this chapter I want to distinguish among forms of terrorism, identify the political claims terrorists use to justify violence against civilians, and propose political strategies to defeat them (p.82)

Ignatieff considers terrorism the resort of groups who are suppressed and oppressed, who have no voice and no say in the power structures which rule over them. He gives a handy categorisation of six types of terrorism:

  1. insurrectionary terrorism aimed at the revolutionary overthrow of a state
  2. loner or issue terrorism, aimed at promoting a single cause
  3. liberation terrorism, aimed at the overthrow of a colonial regime
  4. separatist terrorism, aiming at independence for a subordinate ethnic or religious group within a state
  5. occupation terrorism, aimed at driving an occupying force from territory acquired through war or conquest
  6. global terrorism, aimed not at the liberation of a particular group, but at inflicting damage and humiliation on a global power

With the last one sounding like it’s been made up to describe al Qaeda-style hatred of America.

Terrorism presents a classic challenge for liberals, who have traditionally been on the side of the underdog and oppressed minorities, from the early trade unions to blacks under apartheid, and so often have an instinctive sympathy for the social or political or economic causes of terrorism but who, obviously, want to stop short of supporting actual acts of violence. Where do you draw the line?

Ignatieff says the only practical solution is to ensure that the oppressed always have peaceful political means to address their grievances. Purely military means cannot solve terrorism. It requires political solutions, above all bringing the voiceless into peaceful political processes. He doesn’t mention it but I think of how the warring factions in Northern Ireland were cajoled into joining a political ‘peace process’ which promised to take seriously the concerns of all sides and parties, to listen to all grievances and try to resolve them in a peaceful, political way.

Mrs Thatcher said ‘we do not talk to terrorists’ but, rather as with free speech, it is precisely the terrorists that you should be talking to, to figure out how their grievances can be addressed and the violence be brought to an end.

Thus even if al Qaeda’s values come from completely outside the modern framework of human rights, even if they base themselves on Islamic traditions of jihad and unrelenting war against the infidel, even if they cannot be reasoned with but only crushed militarily, this doesn’t prevent Ignatieff making the obvious point that we in the West can still bring pressure to bear on many authoritarian Arab regimes to try and remove the causes of grievance which drive young men into these causes. These would include overt American imperialism; repressive police policies which enact brutal violence and deny human rights; lack of pluralistic political systems i.e. which allow subaltern voices a say and some influence. And so on (pages 99 to 101).

The weak and oppressed must be given a peaceful political alternative that enables them to rise up against the violence exercised in their name. (p.106)

The Arab future

Trouble is, a lot of this kind of hopeful rhetoric was claimed for the movements of the so-called Arab Spring of 2011, when authoritarian regimes were overthrown in Libya, Egypt and nearly in Syria. Just a few years later it was clear that the ‘spring’ comprehensively failed: an even more authoritarian regime was in place in Egypt, Libya had split into warlord-run areas and a ruinous civil war had bedded down in Syria which would pave the way for the rise of ISIS.

Personally, I think the countries in that part of the world which aren’t lucky enough to be sitting on vast reserves of oil will be condemned to perpetual poverty and conflict, because of:

  • the lack of traditions of individual civic responsibility and the complex matrix of civil society organisations which make the Western countries stable as politically stable as they are;
  • as the main offshoot of the above – universal corruption
  • the entrenched political tradition of strong rulers invoking ethnic nationalism or Islamic models of rule or both (Nasser, Gaddafi, Saddam)
  • what Ignatieff calls ‘the corruption and decay of the Arab and Islamic political order’ (p.152)
  • the economic backwardness of most Arab countries i.e. preponderance of subsistence agriculture
  • widespread lack of education
  • marginalisation / lack of education or political rights for women
  • the extraordinary population explosion (when I first visited Egypt in 1981 it had a population of 45 million; now it’s 110 million) which ensures widespread poverty
  • and now, the speedy degradation of the environment by climate change (loss of water and agricultural land)

One or two of these would be tricky challenges enough. All of them together will ensure that most countries in the Arab world will remain breeding grounds for angry, aggrieved and unemployed young men who can be persuaded to carry out atrocities and terrorist acts against domestic or Western targets, for the foreseeable future.

Chapter 5. The Temptations of Nihilism

This chapter addresses the way that, in the absence of peaceful talks, terrorist campaigns tend to degenerate into destruction and killing for their own sake, as does the behaviour of the authorities and security services set to combat them. Tit-for-tat killing becomes an end in itself. Violence begets violence in a downward spiral.

This is the most serious ethical trap lying in wait in the long war on terror that stretches before us. (p.115)

Ignatieff realises that this well-observed tendency can be used by opponents of his notion of ‘the lesser evil’ i.e. the moderate and constantly scrutinised, temporary abrogation of human rights. Their argument goes that what begins as a high-minded, carefully defined and temporary ‘abrogation’ of human rights law has so often in the past degenerated into abuse, which then becomes standard practice, becomes institutionalised, and then causes permanent damage to the democracies which implemented it.

As you’d expect, Ignatieff meets this claim by breaking the threat down into categories, and then analysing them and the moral problems and issues they throw up.

First, though, he starts the chapter with some low-pressure, enjoyably colourful discussion of Dostoyevsky’s novel, The Possessed – which describes a terrorist group which takes over a remote Russian town – and then of Joseph Conrad’s novel, The Secret Agent, which features a nihilistic character named the Professor, who walks round London with an early version of a suicide vest.

Part of the chapter addresses the practical, administrative problem of preventing anti-terrorist campaigns from descending into violence. But, as mention of the novels suggest, he also explores (as far as anyone can) the psychology of the nihilistic terrorist i.e. people who just want to destroy, for no purpose, with no political aim, for destruction’s sake.

It can be an individual who wants to make a name for themselves through a spectacular, for example Timothy McVeigh who carried out the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing that killed 168 people and injured 680. Lone actors like this are always going to be very difficult to detect or deter.

Then he discusses the Japanese doomsday cult known as Aum Shinrikyo which carried out the deadly Tokyo subway sarin attack in 1995, killing 13 commuters, seriously injuring 54 and affecting 980 more. Terrorists who (claim to) represent an ethnic or nationalist cause can, in principle, be negotiated with for at least two reasons: one is that negotiations may hold out the hope that some at least of their goals may be achieved; the other, is that, insofar as they represent an ethnic group, a population, this population can be worked on to reject the group or moderate its behaviour.

With single actors or death cults, levers of negotiation and bargaining are obviously absent. Having established the key characteristics of these kinds of actors, Ignatieff moves on to a detailed consideration of al Qaeda. In his view it has twisted Islamic teachings so completely as to become a death cult. The 9/11 bombers didn’t leave demands or any way to negotiate – they just wanted to strike a blow at the West, specifically America, and that meant killing as many Americans as possible.

His analysis is on the brief side (there are, obviously, hundreds of books about bin Laden and al Qaeda) but, as usual, throws up fascinating insights and ideas. a) It is impossible to negotiate with a suicide bomber because being negotiated out of detonating is, by definition, a failure of the mission they’ve taken on.

b) More subtly, an organisation that sets out to use suicide bombing as a strategy cannot fail because it has no defined, workable political goals or aims. Bin Laden’s aim of clearing Westerners out of Arab lands, overthrowing the existing Arab states, recreating the 7th century caliphate and implementing Sharia law in full, is not a practical programme, it is a utopian millennarian vision. It is so impractical, it is such a long-term and enormous goal, that true believers can’t, in a sense, be demoralised.

c) And this is where the promise of immortality comes in. Once true believers are promised direct entry into heaven, they have ceased to be political actors and, in this narrow sense, Ignatieff defines them as fanatics.

He adds a distinct and fascinating idea which is that all death cults, and most terrorist groups, have to have a theory which discredits the idea of civilian innocence. Obviously blowing up a load of people going to work in their offices is murder. So, just as obviously, terrorists who do it have been re-educated or indoctrinated not to see it that way. The most basic route is for their ideological leaders to persuade them that nobody is innocent; that so-called ‘civilians’ are as guilty as the acts of repression or infidelity or murder as the armies or forces of their countries.

The Algerian National Liberation Front used this defence to justify blowing up cafes full of civilians as part of their ‘war’. Scores of other terrorist groups use the same justification, erasing the difference between the soldier (a figure defined and attributed specific rights and responsibilities under international convention going back at least as far as the Geneva Conventions) and the civilian (who, under human rights law, is not responsible in warfare and should not be a target).

But this works both ways. For when terrorists are embedded in local populations, emerging to ambush soldiers then disappearing back into the crowd, a tendency develops for those soldiers to come to hate the civilian population and take out their anger and frustration on them. Happened in Vietnam (My Lai etc), happened in Iraq (Haditha etc). And of course all such breakdowns of military discipline it play into the terrorists’ hands by getting the population to move over to support them. That’s why terrorists work hard to trigger them.

So, blurring the difference between soldier and civilian can be practiced by both terrorist and security forces and always heads in the same direction, towards ever-growing atrocity and massacre. Eventually both sides are murdering unarmed civilians, as happened in Bosnia and Kosovo.

Something which distinguishes us from the terrorists is that liberal democracies put huge value on human life, and this particularly applies to civilian human life. Therefore the kinds of massacres which US troops carried out in Vietnam and Iraq sully the reputation and undermine the meaning of liberal democracy itself. I.e. they drag us closer to the indiscriminate violence of our enemies.

These pictures of fanatical death cults are by way of preparing the way for the second half of the chapter which moves on to try and define precisely when two anti-human rights tactics may be used, namely selective assassination and torture. Ignatieff is not an absolutist or civil libertarian i.e. he reluctantly admits that, in addressing the kind of nihilistic fanatics he has described, assassination may be the only way to eliminate people you can’t bargain with, and that extremely ‘coercive’ interrogation may be necessary to extract information from fanatics which may save lives.

This is a detailed discussion of contentious issues, but the bottom line is Ignatieff things they may be permitted, but so long as his basic criteria are fulfilled, namely that they are a) approaches of last resort, after all else has been tried b) and that some kind of independent judicial review or oversight is in place. It is when these kind of policies turn into secret death squads that a rules-based liberal democracy starts to be in trouble.

Ignatieff repeats some familiar objections to torture, namely that it simply doesn’t work, that it produces intense hatred which can motivate those who survive and are released into going on to carry out atrocities, and it degrades those tasked with carrying it out. There’s evidence of post-traumatic stress disorder suffered by American operatives tasked with torturing during the War on Terror.

Typically, Ignatieff adds another point I’d never considered which is that there is a slippery slope from torture to plain murder. This may be for two reasons: the tortured may be converted by the process into such inveterate enemies of the state that their interrogators realise they will never be rehabilitated; and, more sinisterly, the torturers realise they can never release their victims because they themselves, will eventually be implicated i.e. the truth will out. Therefore it’s easier all round just to bump them off. Hence the ‘disappeared’ in South American dictatorships, all those detainees who, after extensive torture, were taken out in helicopters and thrown into the sea. Torture doesn’t just not work, create new enemies and degrade the torturers – it creates a problem of what to do with the tortured? A downward spiral all the way.

Chapter 6. Liberty and Armageddon

The book ends with a bleak discussion of what may happen as and when terrorists acquire weapons of mass destruction i.e. terror attacks on a devastating scale. Are our democracies strong enough to withstand such attacks? How can we strengthen our institutions to ensure that they are?

Ignatieff has a number of suggestions about how to prevent the proliferation of terrifying WMDs. But he comes back to his fundamental position which is that the way to defend and strengthen liberal democracies in the face of increased terrorist threats is to make them more liberal and democratic, not less.

Other thoughts

1. Internecine killing

The text is continually spinning off insights and ideas which I found distracted me from the main flow. For example, the notion that every terror campaign, sooner or later, with complete inevitability, ends up terrorising and killing people on their own side – moderates and ‘sell-outs’ and anybody in their ethnic group or repressed minority who threatens to engage in political discussion with the oppressors. In a sense, moderates are more threatening to a terrorist group than their overt enemy, the repressive state, which is why so many terrorist groups end up killing so many people on their own side (p.104).

2. The threshold of repugnance

The savagery of the Algerian fighters for independence in the 1950s left a permanent scar on the national psyche of all concerned so that when, 30 years after independence (1962) in 1992, the ruling elite disallowed an election which would have given power to the new radical Islamist party, the country very quickly descended into a savage civil war, with Islamic terrorists and government security forces both murdering unarmed civilians they considered guilty of aiding their opponents.

Both sides, with generational memories of the super-violence of the struggle for independence, invoked it and copied it in the new struggle. There was little or no threshold of repugnance to deter them (p.105). Violent civil wars set new lows of behaviour with after-comers can then invoke. The whole process ratchets ever downwards.

3. The world is watching

There’s plenty of evidence that if a movement judges that it needs the help of the outside world (of the ‘international community’ which Ignatieff is so sceptical about in his previous books) then it will tailor its behaviour accordingly. It will, in other words, try to restrain violence.

The African National Congress knew it had strong support across the Western world and put its faith in international pressure eventually bringing a settlement, so that its political leaders (and its defenders in the West) chose to play down the violence of the movement’s activist wings (which, as per rule 1, above, were mostly directed against their own i.e. the black community, witness the invention and widespread use of ‘necklacing).

In other words, the international community counts. It can exert pressure. It can use its leverage to turn liberation movements away from terrorist methods. Up to a point. As long as the movement is well organised, as the ANC was and is. At the other extreme is the Revolutionary United Front (RUF), little more than a rag-tag band of psychopaths, who led an 11-year ‘civil war’, little more than a campaign of terror against their own populations (as described in stomach-churning detail in Anthony Loyd’s book, ‘Another Bloody Love Letter’). They had nothing whatsoever to gain from outside influence except being shut down. So with nothing to lose, they continued their killing sprees for 11 long years (1991 to 2002).

At the other end of the organisational scale, Russia was able to carry out atrocities and conduct a war of total destruction in Chechnya because they know no-one was looking (it was almost impossible for foreign journalists to get in) and nobody cared (it wasn’t a location of strategic significance, no oil, none of the racial discrimination the West gets so worked up about) so mass murder proceeded with barely a ripple in the Western press.

These examples prove a general rule which is that the ‘international community’ can have some moderating influence on some insurgences, terrorist campaigns and wars (p.98).

Notes and thoughts

This is a complex and sophisticated book. The language of human rights often segues into discussion of particular conventions and international declarations in such a way that to really follow the discussion you have to be pretty familiar with these documents and laws and rules.

I also found some of the political concepts which Ignatieff routinely throws around quite obscure and unfamiliar – communitarianism, the conservative principle, adversarial justification, the decision cycle and so on.

I got along with his first political book, ‘Blood and Belonging’, very well. Ignatieff began his discussions with detailed descriptions of the political situations in half a dozen countries, giving plenty of colour and a good feel for the place, its history and issues and people, before getting on to the philosophical discussion, and only applied a handful of relatively simple ideas in order to shed light on the nationalist conflict he was covering.

This book is the opposite. It is sustained at a high academic level, continually introducing new concepts and making fine distinctions and drawing subtle conclusions, with only passing reference to real world examples. It sustains a level of abstraction which I eventually found exhausting. I wasn’t clever enough, or educated enough in the concepts which Ignatieff routinely throws around, to really make the most of it. Probably the best way to read it is one chapter at a time, going back and working through the logic of his argument, chewing over the tumble of clever conclusions. It’s certainly the most demanding of Ignatieff’s half dozen politics books.

Seven days later

Having pondered and revisited the book for a week, maybe I can offer a better description of how the text works. The best bits of ‘Blood and Belonging’ were where Ignatieff shed light on the psychology of different types of nationalism (especially the crude sort of ethnic nationalism which so quickly degenerates into violence).

The same is true here, as well. The best bit about, say, the chapter on nihilism, is Ignatieff’s categorisation of different types of terrorist psychology, and then his exploration of what each psychology is, how it comes about and works in practice. This is fascinating and hugely increases the reader’s understanding, especially when he applies the categories to real historical examples.

What I found harder going, where I think the book comes adrift, is when he moves on to discuss how ‘we’ in liberal democracies ought to deal with the new post-9/11 terrorism threat. It’s at this point, throughout the book, that he keeps using his concept of ‘the lesser evil’ i.e. we should, temporarily, and with supervision by some kind of objective person like a judge, abrogate some of our treasured human rights in some circumstances, where it’s absolutely necessary – it’s these passages, and the entire concept of ‘the lesser evil’, which I sometimes struggled to understand and never found completely clear or convincing.

Ignatieff’s categorisations and definitions of types of society or politics or terrorism, and his descriptions of the psychologies behind them, I found thrilling because they’re so incisive and instantly clarified my own thinking; whereas his discussions of the ‘morality’ of the political response to terrorism, I found confusing and unsatisfactory.


Credit

The Lesser Evil: Political Ethics in an Age of Terror by Michael Ignatieff was published by Vintage in 2004. All references are to the 2005 Edinburgh University Press paperback edition.

New world disorder reviews

Blood and Belonging: Journeys into the New Nationalism by Michael Ignatieff (1994) – 1

This is an outstanding book, bubbling over with ideas and insights on a subject which is as relevant today as when it was written back in the early 90s. It’s actually the book of a BBC TV series. In 1993 Ignatieff and his five-man TV crew travelled to Croatia and Serbia, recently reunified Germany, Ukraine, Quebec, Kurdistan, and Northern Ireland to see at first hand what was already being heralded as the rise of a new kind of virulent nationalism following the end of Cold War and fall of the Soviet Union.

The text he’s produced is the extreme opposite of the two books of journalism about the Rwandan genocide which I’ve just reviewed, We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families: Stories from Rwanda by Philip Gourevitch (1998) and Season of Blood: A Rwandan Journey by Fergal Keane (1995).

What irritated me about those books was that the authors had travelled widely and had unparalleled access to loads of eye witnesses and key officials and yet were incapable of coming up with a single useful idea about what they had seen. The best Gourevitch could manage was repeated references to the Bible story of Cain and Abel and the best Keane could come up with at the very end of his book was the pathetic injunction ‘that we do not forget’ (p.191).

This is because they are journalists, paid to get to the trouble zone, report what they see, what people say, and leave it that. The lack of intellectual content worth the name explains why I find books by even very good journalists like John Simpson or Robert Fisk disappointingly empty of ideas.

By contrast, Ignatieff is a trained historian and political scientist, who has held a dazzling array of positions at academic institutions around the world, including a PhD from Harvard and senior research fellowship at Cambridge, before his writing and teaching became more involved with political theory, international law and human rights.

The result is that this book, although essentially a collection of travelogues and interviews just like Gourevitch and Keane’s, overflows with brilliant, invaluable insights into the origins and nature of the chaotic new nationalism and ethnic conflicts which followed the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of the imperial duopoly which had run the world from 1945 to 1990 (otherwise known as the Cold War).

Right at the start of the book, Ignatieff takes all he’s learned on his journeys and boils it down into a set of principles and insights which are laid out in his ten-page introduction. I think these ten pages are among the most intelligent things I’ve ever read on any subject. Here’s a summary.

Blood and Belonging

As it passes beyond a UN-held checkpoint in Pakrac between Serb- and Croat-held territory in the former Yugoslavia, the crew’s van is stopped by drunk Serbian paramilitaries who insist they are spies because they saw them talking to Croatians, and are about to hijack the van and drive it off who knows where, maybe to shoot them all, when one of the UN soldiers intervenes, persuades the drunk Serbs out of the van, and lets them drive on their way.

This was the moment in my journeys in search of the new nationalism when I began to understand what the new world order actually looks like: paramilitaries, drunk on plum brandy and ethnic paranoia, trading shots with each other across a wasteland; a checkpoint between them, placed there by something loftily called ‘the international community’, but actually manned by just two anxious adolescents… (p.2)

When the Berlin Wall came down Ignatieff, like other cosmopolitan liberals of his type, thought it heralded a new era of freedom and justice. This is because (as I keep banging on) Ignatieff and his class do not realise what a tiny tiny fraction of the world’s population they represent – highly privileged, affluent, super-well-educated, international liberals gaily flying around a world mostly inhabited by resentful peasantries crushed by poverty and trapped in failing states.

He says the Cold War was really an extension of the era of European imperialism but in which the world was ruled not by half a dozen European nations but by America or Russia. Cold War terror i.e. the fear of nuclear armageddon, produced peace and stability, of a sort. The fall of the Berlin wall signalled the end of this final phase of Western imperialism. But it wasn’t followed by a blossoming of civic nationalism of the sort Ignatieff and his fellow liberals hoped for (‘with blithe lightness of mind’), for the very simple reason that most people are not sensitive liberal playwrights like Vaclav Havel.

What has succeeded the last age of empire is a new age of violence. The key narrative of the new world order is the disintegration of nation states into ethnic civil war; the key architects of that order are warlords; and the key language of our age is ethnic nationalism. (p.2)

Three levels of nationalism

As a political doctrine, nationalism is the belief that the world’s people are divided into nations, and that each of these nations has the right of self-determination, either as self-governing units within existing nation states or as nation states of their own.

As a cultural ideal, nationalism is the claim that while men and women have many identities, it is the nation which provides them with their primary form of belonging.

As a moral ideal, nationalism is an ethic of heroic sacrifice, justifying the use of violence in the defence of one’s nation against enemies, internal or external. (p.3)

In the contexts Ignatieff is looking at, nationalism is about violence.

Nationalism is centrally concerned to define the conditions under which force or violence is justified in a people’s defence, when their right of self-determination is threatened or denied. Self-determination here may mean either democratic self-rule or the exercise of cultural autonomy, depending on whether the national group in question believes it can achieve its goals within the framework of an existing state or seeks a state of its own. (p.3)

Civic nationalism versus ethnic nationalism

Nationalisms talk a lot about ‘the people’ and sometimes invoke ideas of ‘democracy’ but this is deceptive, since ‘the people’ often turns out not to include a lot of the people who live in a particular area, in fact the exact opposite, it turns out that ‘the people’ refers to a restricted and highly defined set. To clarify this, Ignatieff defines another two types of nationalism.

Civic nationalism maintains that the nation should be composed of all those – regardless of race, colour, creed, gender, language or ethnicity – who subscribe to the nation’s political creed. This nationalism is called civic because it envisages the nation as a community of equal, rights-bearing citizens, united in patriotic attachment to a shared set of political practices and values. This nationalism is necessarily democratic because it vests sovereignty in all of the people. (p.4)

Ignatieff says this concept of civic nationalism was pioneered in Great Britain which by the mid-eighteenth century consisted of a nation state united by a civic and not an ethnic definition of belonging i.e. shared attachment to certain institutions: the Crown, Parliament, the rule of law.

Admittedly this was a civic model restricted to white, (straight) male landowners. The history of nations characterised by this kind of civic nationalism, such as the UK and USA, can be seen as one in which during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, those excluded groups fought for full civic inclusion.

As a result of their struggle, most Western states now define their nationhood in terms of common citizenship and not by common ethnicity. (p.4)

The other type of nationalism is ethnic nationalism. This is typified by Germany. When Napoleon occupied the German principalities in 1806 he unleashed a wave of patriotic fervour. German poets and politicians argued that it was not the state which created a people – since they did not then possess one unified state – but the people, the ethnic group, the Volk, which forms the state. Instead of the cold logic of the Napoleonic code with its abstract insistence on ‘rights’, German writers across the board insisted a nation was made out of feeling, a feel for and love for the people’s language, religion, customs and traditions.

This German tradition of ethnic nationalism was to go on and reach its acme in the hysterical nationalism of Hitler and the Nazis. But Ignatieff points out that it was this form of ethnic or cultural nationalism – not the civic nationalism of Britain or France – which inspired intellectuals in all the countries of Eastern Europe which, in the nineteenth century, were controlled by foreign empires (Poles and Ruthenians and Baltic peoples by the Russian Empire; Serbs, Romanians and Bulgarians under the Ottoman Empire; Croats by the Austro-Hungarian Empire).

Sociological realism

Which of these two types of nationalism, civic or ethnic, is a more realistic reflection of actual societies? Which has more sociological realism?

Of these two types of nationalism, the civic has a greater claim to sociological realism. Most societies are not mono-ethnic; and even when they are, common ethnicity does not of itself obliterate division, because ethnicity is only one of many claims on an individual’s loyalty. According to the civic nationalist creed, what holds a society together is not common roots but law. By subscribing to a set of democratic procedures and values, individuals can reconcile their right to shape their own lives with their need to belong to a community. This in turn assumes that national belonging can be a form of rational attachment.

Ethnic nationalism claims, by contrast, that an individual’s deepest attachments are inherited, not chosen. It is the national community which defines the individual, not the individuals which define the national community. This psychology of belonging may have greater depth than civic nationalism’s but the sociology which accompanies it is a good deal less realistic. The fact that, for example two Serbs share Serbian ethnic identity may unite them against Croats, but it will do nothing to stop them fighting each other over jobs, spouses, scarce resources and so on. Common ethnicity, by itself, does not create social cohesion or community, and when it fails to do so, as it must, nationalist regimes are necessarily impelled towards maintaining unity by force rather than by consent. This is one reason why ethnic nationalist regimes are more authoritarian than democratic. (p.5)

You can see why civic nationalism is harder to create than ethnic nationalism because it depends on two things: strong, functioning, well-established and long-lasting institutions, and an educated population. The UK has both, having had universal primary school education for 150 years, and a complex web of long-running institutions like the monarchy, Houses of Parliament, an independent judiciary, local governments, courts, police forces and so on. It has taken a long time and successive generations of hard-working, selfless public servants, politicians, activists and reformers to achieve the current state of British civic nationalism, and nobody agrees it’s perfect. In fact everybody has an opinion about where it is still far from perfect and what needs to be reformed. But all this exists within a broad framework of civic nationalism, namely everyone agrees that all British citizens are equal and entitled to equal rights.

1. Ethnic nationalism is easier

Compared with the complexity of mature civic societies such as Britain, America or France, you can see how ethnic nationalism is simpler: a certain ethnic group seizes power and defines itself and its members and rests its power precisely by who it excludes: everyone not part of the ruling ethnic group who quickly find themselves being attacked as traitors, then rounded up and imprisoned.

Leaving all morality to one side, you can see why government by ethnic nationalism is always going to be quicker to define, set up and manage, especially in states which have little if any experience of the complex web of power centres, rules and traditions which make up civic nationalism.

On this reading it should come as no surprise to anyone that ethnic nationalism, being the quicker, easier option, should be the one opted for by rulers who suddenly find themselves liberated from the rule of imperial masters and with big complicated countries to run.

Roughly speaking, this explains what happened:

  • in the early 1960s in Africa, when the newly liberated post-colonial nations found they had to be ruled somehow and in the absence of the deep-rooted institutions and traditions required by civic nationalism, reverted to authoritarian rule often based around the ruler’s ethnic group, which led to numerous wars of independence fought by ethnic groups who wanted their own nations, for example Biafra in Nigeria and Katanga in Congo, and the long-running war of independence in Eritrea
  • in the early 1990s in eastern Europe, where the new rulers of the 15 or so nations freed from Soviet hegemony discovered that the quickest way to establish and consolidate power was with forms of nationalism which invoked the supremacy of their people, their Volk, by shared allegiance to language and religion instead of to the more abstract institutions of civic nationalism, a creed which led to actual civil wars in the former Yugoslavia and Ukraine
  • in the early 2010s, when a raft of Arab countries threw off their long-standing dictators but found that, instead of automatically transitioning to civic nationalism as so many day-dreaming liberals hope, promptly plunged into chaotic civil wars based on ethnic or religious allegiance, most notably in Libya and Syria

The tendency to authoritarianism and extremism of government by and on behalf of ethnic majorities explains the genocides in Rwanda and Sudan. In countries based on ethnic nationalism, the most extreme nationalists have a nasty habit of floating to the top and then, in situations of stress – such as the invasion and war in Rwanda or the famine in Sudan – they resort to the most extreme form of ethnic nationalism imaginable, which is the sustained attempt to exterminate everyone who doesn’t belong to the ruling ethnic group.

2. Ethnic nationalism fills a political vacuum

When the Soviet empire and its satellite regimes collapsed, the nation state structures of the region also collapsed, leaving hundreds of ethnic groups at the mercy of one another. Since none of these groups had the slightest experience of conciliating their disagreements by democratic discussion, violence or force became their arbiter. (p.6)

So ethnic nationalism flourishes where there is no tradition of democratic discussion and no experience of the (admittedly often complex and sometimes borderline corrupt) bargaining involved in democratic politics.

3. Negative reason for ethnic nationalism – avoidance of fear

The sense of belonging to an ethnic group within a nation based on ethnic nationalism has many aspects, positive and negative. The most obvious negative one, is the escape from fear. In a society falling to pieces, you are afraid of everyone. This fear is considerably lessened if you know you can at least trust everyone of your own ethnic group. In this respect, ethnic politics are an improvement on a state of total anarchy, where you can’t trust anyone.

In the fear and panic which swept the ruins of the communist states people began to ask: so who will protect me? Faced with a situation of political and economic chaos, people wanted to know who to trust, and who to call their own. Ethnic nationalism provided an answer which was intuitively obvious: only trust those of your own blood. (p.6)

Belonging, on this account, is first and foremost a protection against violence. Where you belong is where you are safe; and where you are safe is where you belong. (p.6)

This was the very important conclusion which came out of the many books I’ve read about the Weimar Republic and the chaotic social and economic situation of so much of continental Europe between the wars. The scared human animal prefers security to freedom. Given a choice between the politician who promises a crackdown on lawlessness, a return to order and stability, with the temporary curtailment of some human rights, and the politician who insists on the primacy of human rights but can’t promise anything about the economy, jobs and violence on the streets, people will always vote for the former. This explains why in the economic and political mayhem between the wars, almost every European nation ended up being ruled by authoritarian or out and out fascist governments.

4. Positive reasons for ethnic nationalism – belonging

That’s the negative aspect, escape from fear of anarchy. But there are also numerous positive aspects of ethnic nationalism which Ignatieff encapsulates as the sense of belonging.

At Oxford Ignatieff studied under Isiah Berlin (wow) and quotes him here to the effect that to be among your own people is to be confident that you will be understood, without having to explain. It is to feel at home among people who share the same language, catchphrases, jokes and references, love the same music, can quote the same national epic and so on.

‘They understand me as I understand them; and this understanding creates within me a sense of being someone in the world.” (quoted page 7)

This explains why the issue of language is so central to disputes in ethnic nationalism over the centuries. If the ‘official’ language, the language of street signs and government forms, is not the language you speak, then quite clearly you are not at home. Hence the issue of which language street signs are in can end up being a matter of life or death.

It also explains why so many of the ethnic nationalists Ignatieff meets are so sentimental. In Croatia, Ukraine and Belfast he met members of violent paramilitaries who showed a consistent tendency to get maudlin drunk, burst into tears or burst into rousing renditions of their national anthem or rebel songs. Sentimental kitsch is the characteristic art form of ethnic nationalists. (He nowhere mentions it, but the idea of a self-pitying, over-armed, drunk sentimentalism reminded me of a certain type of nostalgia for the Confederacy in the American South.)

5. Irresponsibility

There’s another positive aspect of the kind of ethnic nationalism he describes, which is its irresponsibility. Time and again in his journeys he talks to militiamen, paramilitaries and their political leaders, and finds them all saying the same thing: it’s not our fault. This avoiding of responsibility takes at least three forms: 1. it’s all the other side’s fault. 2. we’re the victims. 3. it’s all history’s fault.

Their fault

Again and again, drunk, self-pitying militiamen explain it was the other side who started it, we’re the victims in all this, we only took up arms to protect ourselves, to fight back. Ignatieff doesn’t mention the Rwanda genocide because it hadn’t taken place when he made his tour, but this is exactly the excuse made by every Hutu nationalist interviewed by Philip Gourevitch or Fergal Keane: ‘The Tutsis started it, the Tutsis used to lord it over us, the Tutsis invaded our country: so that’s why we have to exterminate every Tutsi we can find, even the grandparents and the little babies. Why can’t you understand?’

We’re only protecting ourselves

Same view given to Ignatieff about why the Serbs had to bomb Sarajevo, in a siege which went on long after he’d left, in fact from 5 April 1992 to 29 February 1996. Lasting 1,425 days, this made the siege of Sarajevo the longest siege of a capital city in the history of modern warfare, lasting three times as long as the Battle of Stalingrad and more than a year longer than the siege of Leningrad. Talk to any Serb commander and they would patiently explain that they had to surround and bombard the city for 4 years in order to protect themselves.

History is to blame

All the militias knew far too much history. From the UDA and IRA in Belfast to the Serb and Croat militias, all these people know far too much about their country’s histories and the histories they know prove they are right. This disproves two great liberal nostrums which I’ve always queried:

  1. Those who ignore their own history are condemned to repeat it. Rubbish. It’s almost always the opposite, it’s the Serbs nursing their grievances going back to the Yugoslav civil war of 1941 to 1945 or, if you like, going all the way back to the famous battle of Kosovo in 1389, it’s the Croats nursing their grievance against wartime Chetniks; or the IRA celebrating their long tradition of martyrs or the UDA nursing endless grievance at the way they’re betrayed by the London government. For all these groups their history is a history of grievances and carefully tending it and memorising it traps them in the prison-house of their nationalist narratives and condemns them to repeat the same conflicts over and over. (It is in this spirit that James Joyce made his famous declaration, leaving Ireland to its endless squabbles in order to make a new life abroad, that ‘History is a nightmare from which I’m trying to awake.’ Ethnic nationalists relive and re-enact the nightmare day after day but can never exorcise it.)
  2. History will prove us right. Rubbish. History is as contested as contemporary politics i.e. historians will argue about the significance and legacy of this or that event till the cows come home and very often are swayed by simple professional motivation i.e. the need to come up with a new angle, ‘shed new light’ and so on. The notion that there will eventually emerge one unanimous version of history is a fantasy.

But back to the main theme, blaming history is a way of avoiding taking responsibility yourself. Hence the drunken mumbling of some militia Ignatieff interviews that ‘history is to blame’. This is cognate with the white liberal guilt over empire which drives Gourevitch and Keane to lay blame for the Rwandan genocide on the Belgian authorities for introducing ethnic identity cards in the 1930s and thus hardening the divide between Hutus and Tutsis. This is where the objective study of history topples over into the crowd-pleasing activity of naming and blaming, of which there is no end.

6. Ethnic nationalism as career path = warlordism

Intellectual categorisation of ethnic nationalism risks overlooking another really obvious factor in the rise of ethnic nationalism, which is that it offers a career path to supreme power for men the world had otherwise overlooked and, especially, for latent psychopaths:

Nationalist rhetoric swept through these regions like wildfire because it provided warlords and gunmen with a vocabulary of opportunistic self-justification.

The anarchy of a collapsing state presents terror to most civilians but career opportunities for those brave and amoral enough to seize them. Hence warlordism, a version of the mafia. Local strong men emerge who dominate their area, who rule through fear and intimidation and violence but, if you are of the right ethnic group and follow the rules, they also bring peace and certainty. Which is why Ignatieff is taken on a tour of his fiefdom by one such local strongman and is impressed at the way his open-top car is greeted by cheering crowds, women offering their babies to be kissed, local businessmen giving him gifts.

Some people might find this easiest to understand this as a kind of mafia rule, but it reminds me of the Anglo-Saxon epic Beowulf and its depiction of a Dark Age Europe made up of a patchwork of very localised regions ruled over by thousands and thousands of warrior kings who ruled by dint of winning battles and distributing loot to their soldiers. It’s this kind of historical perspective i.e. the unchanging link between Europe 500 AD and 2000 AD, which makes me think human nature, and the kind of social structures it creates, over and over again, in all times and places, doesn’t change very much.

Ethnic nationalism within civic states

Obviously, you can have ethnically chauvinist movements within civic nationalist societies, and this would include the movement for Catalan independence in Spain and Irish nationalists in Northern Ireland, who themselves spawn their opposites, Spanish nationalists within Catalonia, and the special case of the Unionists within Northern Ireland.

Cosmopolitanism and privilege

Finally, Ignatieff addresses the issue of his own perspective and makes the one cardinal point that I have made hundreds of times in this blog which is that cosmopolitan intellectuals have proved to be wrong, wrong and wrong again about the world they live in.

He devotes a fairly long passage to explaining why. He and his ilk of jet-setting intellectuals thought the rest of the world was like them, an associate professorship at Harvard, a research fellowship at Cambridge, a year-long teaching placement in Paris. Winners of life’s game flying round the world on expense accounts, eating out at fine restaurants, knowledgeable about wine and poetry. He and his friends thought the world was set to become ever-more cosmopolitan, ever-more multicultural, ever-more relaxed about race and ethnicity.

But Michael was the son of a Canadian diplomat, who moved his family around the world to different postings, so young Michael grew up naturally cosmopolitan, speaking numerous languages. He was sent to a top private school in Canada where he acquired the elite education and psychological confidence to feel right at home discussing definitions of liberty with Isaiah Berlin. Just like BBC correspondent and superstar Fergal Keane attended the leading boys private school in Ireland, works for the impeccably liberal BBC, and found himself at a complete loss to explain the Rwandan genocide.

Neither of them can comprehend the anger of being an outsider, the all-consuming rage caused by being a member of the poor, the exploited, the repressed, the ignored, the downtrodden, the humiliated, the shat-upon, the mocked and the ridiculed, told they are losers and deserve to be losers for the whole of their lives…

And how – when society starts to fall apart, when there’s an economic collapse, when an invading army turns everything upside down – then it’s your turn to get your revenge, to get your own back, to show them all you aren’t a slave and lackey to be ignored and humiliated but a man, a real man, a strong man, who can click his fingers and have whole villages exterminated, who can hold the life or death of prisoners in the palm of his hand, who distributes the pickings from the looted houses among his followers, likewise the kidnapped women and keeps the best for himself.

Neither Fergal nor Michael have a clue what that must feel like and so simply can’t comprehend what motivates so many of the ordinary soldiers, militiamen and paramilitaries they meet to carry out the murders, gang-rapes, tortures and massacres which their books describe.

But the big difference is Michael is aware of it. Not just aware, but places his own self-awareness of his privilege and ignorance within a dazzling intellectual, political and historical framework which does an enormous amount to clarify, define and help us understand the broader sociological and political causes of the new world disorder.

He acknowledges that the ‘privilege’ he has enjoyed is the reverse side of the coin of the plight of most people in the world. During the Cold War most of the world was divided up into American or Soviet spheres of influence, and these paymasters acted to restrain, up to a point, the behaviour of their clients in countries around the world. But when the Cold War ended, this support and this restraint disappeared from scores and scores of countries where fear of the Cold War master had kept an uneasy peace.

As a result, large sections of Africa, Eastern Europe, Soviet Asia, Latin America and the Near East no longer come within any clearly defined sphere of imperial or great power influence. This means that huge sections of the world’s population have won ‘the right to self determination’ on the cruellest possible terms: they have been simply left to fend for themselves. Not surprisingly, their nation states are collapsing, as in Somalia and in many other nations in Africa. (p.9)

So, with the imperial police withdrawn from large parts of the world, ethnic rivalries and enmities which had been kept bottled up for generations, could burst out anew: Yugoslavia. Rwanda. The new chaos only appears inexplicable to Ignatieff and most of his readers because they don’t grasp the fundamental geopolitical realities and, more importantly, are limited in their understanding, by their sociological situation.

Globalism in a post-imperial age only permits a post-nationalist consciousness for those cosmopolitans who are lucky enough to live in the wealthy West. It has brought only chaos and violence for the many small peoples too weak to establish defensible states of their own. (p.9)

And:

It is only too apparent that cosmopolitanism is the privilege of those who can take a secure nation state for granted. (p.9)

And:

A cosmopolitan, post-nationalist spirit will always depend, in the end, on the capacity of nation states to provide security and civility for their citizens. (p.9)

Thus when Keane gets into a tricky confrontation with border police, he can play his BBC and British government card. When Gourevitch gets into a tight spot, he can point out he’s an American and his government probably supplies arms to whatever ramshackle militia he’s dealing with. Or both can buy their way out of trouble with dollars, which the BBC or the New Yorker can provide by the suitcase full in order to rescue them. Both dip their toes in the chaos of failed states confident that they always can, if push comes to shove, buy their way out and get on the next plane home.

Neither of them seem to appreciate what it means to be someone who grows up in a society where there is no escape and where ‘kill or be killed’ is the only law and which has been drummed into you since childhood.

Ignatieff makes the dynamite point that many of the most senseless killings and brutal murders can be understood if you grasp the idea that they are fighting and murdering in order to bring a full, final and complete peace to their countries so that they can enjoy the same sense of security and safety which Gourevitch, Keane and Ignatieff have taken for granted all their lives.

Summary

It is Ignatieff’s mighty achievement to not only have created a conceptual framework which makes sense of the panorama of post-Cold War anarchy, extracting core principles and ideas which shed light on every aspect of the new nationalism; and not only to deliver high quality intellectual insights about all the conflicts this book goes on to investigate; but also to deliver an unblinking, candid and winning analysis of his own privileged position, which makes him such a fantastic guide to the new world disorder of the 1990s.

Credit

Blood and Belonging: Journeys into the New Nationalism by Michael Ignatieff was published by BBC Books in 1993. All references are to the revised 1995 Vintage paperback edition.


The new world disorder

When the Soviet Union collapsed, the Berlin Wall came down and the countries of eastern Europe and central Asia were freed from Soviet tyranny, many Western politicians and commentators optimistically thought this marked the end of history and the dawning of a golden era of peace and democracy. Well, as any fool could have told them, they were wrong, very wrong.

Instead, relieved of the threat of socialist parties and movements (which found themselves suddenly deprived of moral, political and sometimes financial support by the Soviets) a new more virulent form of neo-liberal capitalism triumphed around the world. Workers and even middle classes in the developed world found their living standards steadily declining, and entire third world countries found themselves being exploited even more effectively by an international capitalist system evermore focused on supporting the lifestyles of westerners and a new class of international global super-rich.

Lacking political maturity (i.e. established democratic systems with a track record of the peaceful transition of power from one elected administration to another; the multifarious aspects of civil society such as a free press, charities) many newly liberated nations, afflicted with economic stress, political instability and unresolved nationalist-ethnic-border issues, not surprisingly, experienced major problems.

The specific causes were different in each case but instead of an outbreak of peace, love and understanding, the 1990s saw the Gulf War, the collapse of Somalia, civil war in former Yugoslavia and the Rwandan genocide, to name just the highlights.

The Islamic terrorist attacks of 9/11 added a whole new layer of misunderstanding and confusion to an already chaotic world, leading directly to the US invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq and subsequent destabilisation of the entire region. And was followed by the so-called Arab Spring of 2011 which, once again, naive liberal commentators welcomed as an outbreak of democracy and equality but almost immediately led to chaos, civil war and the rise of regional warlords, in Syria and Libya to take the two most notable examples.

New world disorder reviews

Reflections on The Age of Empire: 1875 to 1914 by Eric Hobsbawm (1987)

Critique of Hobsbawm’s Marxisant approach

In the third of his mighty trilogy of histories of the long nineteenth century, The Age of Empire: 1875 to 1914, as in its two predecessors, Hobsbawm makes no attempt to hide his strongly Marxist point of view. Every page shouts his contempt for the era’s ‘bourgeois’ men of business, its ‘capitalists’ and bankers, the despicable ‘liberal’ thinkers of the period and so on. From time to time his contempt for the bourgeoisie rises to the level of actual abuse.

The most that can be said of American capitalists is that some of them earned money so fast and in such astronomic quantities that they were forcibly brought up against the fact that mere accumulation in itself is not an adequate aim in life for human beings, even bourgeois ones. (p.186)

Replace that final phrase with ‘even Jewish ones’ or ‘even Muslim ones’ or ‘even black ones’ to get the full sense of how deliberately insulting it is intended to be and how unacceptable his invective would be if applied to any other group of people.

Hobsbawm loses no opportunity to quote Marx (who died in 1883, saddened by the failure of his communist millennium to arrive) or Lenin’s views on late capitalism and imperialism (Lenin published his first political work in 1893), and he loses absolutely no opportunity to say ‘bourgeoisie bourgeoisie bourgeoisie’ scores of times on every page till the reader is sick of the sight of the word.

Hobsbawm’s highly partisan and politicised approach has strengths and weaknesses.

Hobsbawm’s strengths

On the up side, using very simplistic binary oppositions like ‘the developed world’ and ‘the undeveloped world’, the ‘bourgeoisie’ and the ‘proletariat’, helps him to make great sweeping generalisations which give you the impression you are gaining secret access to the engine room of history. If you ignore the complexity of the histories and very different cultures of individual nations such as America, Britain, France and Germany, and lump them altogether as ‘the West’, then you can bring out the broad-brush historical and economic developments of the era, grouping together all the developments in science, chemistry, physics, technology, industry and consumer products into great blocks, into titanic trends and developments.

This gives the reader a tremendously powerful sense of bestriding the world, taking part in global trends and huge international developments. Just as in The Age of Capitalism, the first half or so of the book is thrilling. It makes you feel like you understand for the first time the titanic historical forces directing world history, and it’s this combination of factual (there are lots of facts and figures about industrial production) and imaginative excitement which garnered the trilogy so many positive reviews.

Hobsbawm’s obsession with capitalism’s contradictions

Hobsbawm makes obeisance to the Marxist convention that ‘bourgeois’ ideology was riddled with ‘contradictions’. The most obvious one was the contradiction between the wish of national politicians to define and delimit their nations and the desire of ‘bourgeois’ businessmen to ignore all boundaries and trade and invest wherever they wanted around the globe (p.40).

Another ‘contradiction’ was the way the spread of ‘Western ideology’ i.e. education and values, to developing countries, or at least to the elites within European colonies, often led to the creation of the very Western-educated elites who then helped to overthrow it (he gives the London-trained lawyer Gandhi as the classic example, p.77, though he could as easily have mentioned Jawaharlal Nehru, educated at Cambridge, trained at London’s Inner Temple as a barrister).

Another ‘contradiction’ was the between the way the mid-century ‘bourgeois’ industrial and economic triumph rested on a mechanical view of the universe, the mechanical laws of physics and heat and chemistry underpinning the great technological advances of the later nineteenth century. Hobsbawm then delights in the way that, at the end of the century, this entire mechanistic worldview was overturned in a welter of discoveries, including Einstein’s theory of relativity, the problematic nature of the sub-atomic world which gave rise to quantum physics, and deep discoveries about the bewildering non-rational basis of mathematics.

These are just some of the developments Hobsbawm defines as ‘contradictions’ with the aim of proving that Marx’s predictions that capitalism contained within itself deep structural contradictions which would undermine it and lead inevitably to its downfall.

Why Hobsbawm was wrong

Except that Marx was wrong and Hobsbawm is wrong. His continual mentioning Marx, quoting Lenin, harking back to the high hopes of the revolutionaries of 1848, invoking the memory of the Commune (redefined, in good Marxist style, as a heroic rising of the downtrodden working classes, rather than the internecine bloodbath that it actually was), his continual harking forward to the Bolshevik revolution as somehow the climax of all the trends he describes, his insistence that we, he and his readers, all now (in the mid-1980s when he wrote this book) still live in the forbidding shadow of the Russian revolution, still haunted by the spectre of communist revolution — every aspect of his attitude and approach now seems dated and irrelevant.

Now, in 2021, it is 30 years since the collapse of the Soviet Union and its satellites revealed:

  1. Their complete failure to build an economic and social system which could be a serious alternative to ‘capitalism’.
  2. The extraordinary extent to which communist regimes had to surveil, monitor and police every aspect of their populations’ behaviour, speech and thoughts, in order to prevent them relapsing into the ways of human nature – the prison camps, the psychiatric wards, the secret police. Look at China today, with its censorship of the internet and its hounding of dissidents, its suppression of Falun Gong and the Muslim Uighurs of Xinjiang.

Seen from our contemporary perspective, Hobsbawm tendentious habit of naming every clash in policies, every development in cultural thinking as some kind of seismic ‘contradiction’ which will bring global capitalism tumbling down, looks like what it is, a biased obeisance to Marxist ideas which have long ago proved to be untrue.

The misleading use of terms like ‘bourgeois’

To some extent his attitude is based on one particular logical or rhetorical trick which can be proved to be false.

In the later chapters of the book, about the arts, the hard and social sciences, Hobsbawm repeatedly claims that this or that aspect of ‘bourgeois ideology’ of the mid-nineteenth century came under strain, suffered insoluble contradictions, underwent a crisis, and collapsed.

I think this is the crux of the massive mistake he makes. It consists of several steps:

  1. identifying every element of mid-nineteenth century political and cultural theory as some universal thing called ‘bourgeois’
  2. identifying this ‘bourgeoisie’ as the central and necessary figure of the capitalist system
  3. and then claiming that, because in the last few decades of the nineteenth century this ‘bourgeois’ ideology came under strain and in many ways collapsed, that therefore this shows that capitalism itself, as a system, must come under strain caused by its internal contradictions and therefore must collapse

Surely anyone can see the logical error here. All you have to do is stop insistently repeating that mid-nineteenth century ideology was identical with some timeless ‘bourgeois’ ideology which necessarily and uniquely underpins all capitalism, and simply relabel it ‘mid-nineteenth century ideology’, and then all your sentences stop being so apocalyptic.

Instead of saying ‘bourgeois ideology was stricken by crisis’ as if The Great Revolution is at hand, all you need say is ‘mid-nineteenth century political and social beliefs underwent a period of rapid change at the end of the century’ and the portentous sense of impending doom hovering over the entire system vanishes in a puff of smoke – and you are left just describing a fairly banal historical process, namely that society’s ideas and beliefs change over time, sometimes in abrupt reversals resulting from new discoveries, sometimes as slow evolutionary adaptations to changing social circumstances.

Put another way, Hobsbawm identifies mid-nineteenth century liberal ideology as if it is the one and only shape capitalist thinking can possibly take and so excitedly proclaims that, by the end of the century, because mid-nineteenth century ‘bourgeois’ beliefs were quite visibly fraying and collapsing, therefore capitalism would collapse too.

But quite obviously the ‘capitalist system’ has survived all the ‘contradictions’ and ‘crises’ Hobsbawm attributes to it and many more. It is still going strong, very strong, well over a century after the period which Hobsbawm is describing and when, he implies, it was all but on its last knees.

In fact the basic idea of manufacturing products cheap and selling them for as much profit as you can, screwing the workers who make them and keeping the profits to a) enjoy yourself or b) invest in other business ventures, is probably more widespread than ever before in human history, seeing how it’s been taken up so enthusiastically in post-communist Russia but especially across hyper-modernising China.

In other words, Hobsbawm’s use of Marxist terms like ‘bourgeois’ and ‘proletarian’ may have a certain explanatory power for the era he’s describing, but after a certain point they are too simplistic and don’t describe or analyse the actual complexity of even one of the societies he describes, let alone the entire world.

At some point (which you can almost measure in Hobsbawm’s texts) they cease to be explanatory and become obfuscatory, hiding the differences which separate America, Britain and Germany much more than unite them. Use of the terms simply indicate that you have entered a certain worldview.

Imagine a Christian historian identifying mid-nineteenth century ideology as the one and only expression of ‘Christian’ ideology, an ideology which divided the population into ‘believers’ and ‘unbelievers’, into the ‘saved’ and the ‘damned’. Imagine this historian went on to describe how the widespread ‘crisis’ in Christian belief at the end of the century indicated that the entire world was passing out of the phase of Christian belief and into infidel unbelief.

If you read something like that you would immediately know you are inside the particular worldview of an author, something which clearly means a lot to them, might shed light on some aspects of the period – for example trends in religious belief – but which in no way is the interpretation of world history.

a) Plenty of other interpretations are available, and b) despite the widespread laments that Christianity was dying out in the later nineteenth century, contrary to all their pessimism, Christianity now has more adherents worldwide than ever before in human history. And ditto capitalism.

The dominance of the key terms Hobsbawm deploys with such monotonous obsessiveness (capitalism, bourgeoisie, proletariat, liberal ideology) don’t prove anything except that you have entered the worldview of a particular author.

The system with the real contradictions, contradictions between a) its utopian claims for equality and the reality of a hierarchical society which privileged party membership, b) between its promises to outproduce the West and the reality of permanent shortages of consumer goods and even food, c) between its rhetoric of ‘freedom’ and the reality of the harsh repression of any kind of political or artistic unorthodoxy – was communism, whose last pitiful remnants lie rusting in a thousand statue parks across Russia and Eastern Europe.

The fundamental sleight of hand in Hobsbawm’s argument

Because Hobsbawm identifies the mid-nineteenth century worldview with the ‘bourgeoisie’ and the ‘bourgeoisie’ as the indispensable foundation of ‘capitalism’, he tries to pull off the conjuring trick of claiming that, since the mid-nineteenth century worldview drastically changed in all kinds of ways in the last decade of the century, these change invalidate the ‘bourgeoisie’, and that this, in turn, invalidates ‘capitalism’. Proves it is wrong and doomed to collapse.

You can see how this is just a three-card trick which moves vague and indefinable words around on the table at speed to bamboozle the impressionable. For despite the trials and tribulations of the century of extremes which followed, ‘capitalism’ in various forms appears to have triumphed around almost the entire world, and the materialistic, conventional, liberal ‘bourgeoisie’ which Hobsbawm so despises… appears still to be very much with us, despite all Hobsbawm’s protestations about its terminal crises and death throes and contradictions and collapse.

Victimology tends to tyranny

To anyone familiar with the history of communist Russia, communist China and communist Eastern Europe, there is something unnerving and, eventually, worrying about Hobsbawm’s very broad-brush division of the entire world into victims and oppressors.

The first half of the twentieth century was the era of totalitarian governments seeking to gain total control over every aspect of their populations and mould them into better humans in a better society. The first thing all these regimes did was establish goodies and baddies, and rouse the population to be on perpetual guard against the enemy in whatever guise – ‘the bourgeoisie’, the ‘kulaks’, ‘capitalist roaders’, ‘reactionary elements’, ‘the Jews’, and so on.

Dividing the entire huge world and eight billion people into simple binaries like ‘oppressors’ and ‘victims’, ‘bourgeoisie’ and ‘workers’, ‘exploiters’ and ‘exploited’, ‘white’ masters and ‘black’ victims, is worryingly reminiscent of the simplistic, binary thinking which the twentieth century showed leads to genocides and mass killing.

Hobsbawm criticises the nationalist parties of the late-nineteenth century for dividing up populations into citizens and outsiders, members of the Volk or aliens, a process of which the Jews were notable victims. And yet he enacts the very same binary oppositioning, the same outsidering of a (large) group of society, by objectifying and insulting the ‘bourgeoisie’ at every opportunity.

It’s the same old mental slum: if only we could get rid of the gypsies / homos / lefties / commies / bourgeoisie / capitalists / Catholics / Protestants / Armenians / Jews / Croats / Serbs / Tutsis / Hutus / men / whites / blacks / immigrants / refugees, then society would be alright. I call it ‘If-only-ism’.

If capitalism and imperialism were inevitable, how can anyone be guilty?

In Age of Capital Hobsbawm describes how the industrial revolution amounted to a lucky fluke, a coming together of half a dozen circumstances (of which the most important was, in his view, Britain’s command of the waves and extensive trading network between colonies) and this helps you realise that some people were able to seize the opportunity and exploit it and become masters of small firms and then of factories etc. Clever, quick, resourceful or well-placed men leapt to take advantage of new opportunities. Any history of the industrial revolution names them and gives biographies of individuals central to the series of inventions or who then set up successful firms to exploit them.

However, the tendency of Hobsbawm’s very high-level Marxist approach, his sweeping surveys which pull together evidence from Austria, or France, from north Italy or New York, is, paradoxically, to remove all sense of agency from the humans involved. Hobsbawm makes it seem almost inevitable that the first industrial revolution (textiles) would give rise to a second (iron and coal) which in turn would give rise to a third (steel, organic chemistry, electrics, oil).

And he makes it seem inevitable that, once the world was fully mapped and explored, then the other ‘western powers’ which by 1890 had more or less caught up with Britain in terms of industrialisation, would join the competition to seize territories which contained valuable minerals or exotic produce (tea, coffee, bananas). That an acceleration of imperial rivalry was inevitable.

But if it had to pan out this way, how can you blame anyone? If, viewed from this lofty godlike perspective, it was inevitable that industrialisation broke out somewhere, that it would spread to all similar regions and states, that the now numerous industrial nations would find themselves in competition for the basic resources (food) and more arcane resources (rubber, oil, rare metals) required to drive the next stage of industrial development – can you blame them?

You could call it Hobsbawm’s paradox, or Hobsbawm’s Choice. The more inevitable you make the entire process sound, the less reason you have to be so cross at the ‘bourgeoisie’.

The reality is that you can, of course, hold the western nations accountable for their actions, but only if you descend to a lower level of historical discourse than Hobsbawm’s. Only if you begin to look at specific actions of specific governments and specific men in specific times and places an you begin to make assessments and apportion praise or blame.

Responsibility and guilt can’t really exist at the level Hobsbawm is operating on because he goes out of his way to avoid mentioning individuals (with only a few exceptions; Bismarck’s name crops up more than any other politician of the period) and instead emphasises that it all unfolded according to almost unavoidable historical laws, implicit in the logic of industrial development.

If humans couldn’t avoid it, then they can’t very well be blamed for it.

In light of Hobsbawm’s theory, is equality possible?

The same set of facts give rise to a parallel thought, which dogged me throughout reading this book, which is — if what Hobsbawm says is true, if industrial and technological developments tend to be restricted to just a handful of certain nations which have acquired the technology and capital resources to acquire ‘liftoff’ to industrialisation, and if, within those nations, the benefits of industrialisation accrue overwhelming to a small proportion of the population; and if this process is so stereotyped and inevitable and unstoppable — then, well… is it even possible to be fair? Is it possible to achieve anything like ‘equality’? Surely the entire trend of the history Hobsbawm describes with so much verve suggests not.

Putting aside the issue of fairness in one nation aside in order to adopt Hobsbawm’s global perspective, he often repeats the formula that countries in the ‘undeveloped’ or ‘developing’ or ‘Third World’ (whatever you want to call it) were forced by the demands of consumer capitalism or The Market to turn themselves into providers of raw materials or a handful of saleable commodities – after all, this was era which saw the birth of the banana republic. But, I thought as I ploughed through the book… what was the alternative?

Could undeveloped nations have turned their backs on ‘international capitalism’ and continued as agrarian peasant nations, or resisted the western imperative to become ‘nations’ at all and remained general territories ruled by congeries of local sheikhs or tribal elders or whatever?

At what stage would it have been possible to divert the general trend of colonial takeover of the developing world? How would it have happened? Which British leader would have stood up and said, ‘This is wrong; we renounce all our colonies and grant them independence today?’ in the1870s or 1880s or 1890s? What would have happened to the sub-continent or all those bits of Africa which Britain administered if Britain had simply packed up and left them in 1885?

As to all the wealth accumulating in Britain, among its sizeable cohort of ship-owners, traders, factory owners, bankers, stockbrokers and what not. On what basis would you have taken their wealth away, and how much? Half? All of it and shot them, as in Bolshevik Russia?

Having seized the wealth of the entire ‘bourgeoisie’, how would you then have redistributed it to the bedouin in the desert or the native peoples of Australia or the Amazon, to the workers on the rubber plantations, in the tin and gold mines, in the sugar fields, to squabbling tribes in central Africa? How could that have been done without a vast centralised redistribution system? Without, in fact, precisely the centralising, bureaucratic tendencies of the very capitalist system Hobsbawm was criticising?

And who would administer such a thing? Having worked in the civil service for over a decade I can tell you it would take hordes of consultants, program managers, project managers and so on, who would probably be recruited from the host country and make a packet out of the process?

And when was all this meant to happen? When, would you say, the awareness of the wrongs of the empire, or the wrongs done to the ‘undeveloped world’ became widespread enough to allow such policies to be enacted in a democracy where the government has to persuade the majority of the people to go along with its policies? In the 1860s, 70s, 80s?

Live Aid was held in 1985, just as Hobsbawm was writing this book, and which I imagine brought the issue of Third World poverty and famine to the attention of even the dimmest members of the population. But did that global event abolish poverty, did it end inequality and injustice in in the Third World? No, otherwise there would have been no need for the Live 8 concerts and related charity efforts 30 years later, in 2005. Or the ongoing efforts of all the industrialised nations to send hundreds of millions of dollars of support to the Third World every year (hence the furore surrounding the UK government cutting back on its foreign aid budget this year.) Not to mention the continuous work of thousands of charities all across the ‘developing world’.

When you look at the scale of activity and the amounts of money which have been sent to developing countries since the Second World War, it makes you wonder how much would be enough? Should every citizen of every industrialised nation give, say, half their annual earnings to people in the Third World? To which people? In which countries? To India, which has invested tens of billions in a space program? To China, which is carrying out semi-genocidal policy of incarceration and mass sterilisation in its Xinjiang province? Do we need to take money from the British public to give it to Narendra Modi or Xi Jinping? Who would manage that redistribution program, for whatever civil servants and consultants you hired to make it work would earn much, much more than the recipients of the aid.

Student excitement, adult disillusion with Hobsbawm

When I was a student, reading this trilogy educated me about the broad industrial, economic and social forces which created and drove forward the industrial revolution in the Western world throughout the nineteenth century, doing so in thrilling style, and for that I am very grateful. Hobsbawm’s books highlighted the way that, through the 1850s and 1860s, capitalism created an ever-richer class of ‘owners’ set against a rapidly growing number of impoverished workers; how the industrial and financial techniques pioneered in Britain spread to other Western nations; how the industrial system evolved in the 1880s and 1890s into a) a booming consumer society in the West and b) the consolidation of a system of colonial exploitation around the world.

I had never had the broad trends of history explained so clearly and powerfully and excitingly. It was a memorable experience.

But rereading the books 40 years later, I am now painfully aware that the simplistic Marxist concepts Hobsbawm uses to analyse his period may certainly help to elucidate it, but at the same time highlight their own ineffectiveness.

The confidence that a mass working class movement which will rise up to overthrow the inequalities of the West and liberate the developing world, that this great liberation is just around the corner – which is implicit in his numerous references to 1848 and Marx and the Commune and Lenin – and that all it needs is a few more books and pamphlets to spark it off….goes beyond boring to become sad. Although the historical facts he describes remain as relevant as ever, the entire ideology the books are drenched in feels terribly out of date.

Democracy not the blessing it is cracked up to be

In chapter 4 Hobsbawm discusses the politics of democracy. Throughout he takes it for granted that extending the franchise to all adults would result in the revolutionary change he supports. He starts his discussion by referencing the powerful German Social Democratic Party (founded back in 1863) and the British Labour Party (founded in 1900) and their campaigns for universal suffrage, as if giving the vote to ‘the working class’ would immediately lead to a social revolution, the end of inequality and exploitation.

Only in the chapters that follow does he slowly concede that new mass electorates also helped to create new mass, populist parties and that many of these catered not to the left at all, but to right-wing nationalist ideas of blood and Volk. For example, the notorious Karl Luger, mayor of Vienna from 1897 to 1910, whose Christian Social Party espoused populist and antisemitic politics which are sometimes viewed as a model for Adolf Hitler’s Nazism.

In fact it had already been shown that universal male suffrage not only didn’t lead to socialist revolution but the exact opposite, when, in the aftermath of the 1848 revolution which overthrew the French monarchy, the French granted universal male suffrage and held a presidential election in which the opera bouffe candidate, Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte, promptly won with 74% of the entire male adult vote, and then went on to win the plebiscite held after his 1851 anti-leftist coup with 76%.

So any educated person knew in the 1850s that extending the franchise did not, in and of itself, lead to red revolution. Often the opposite. (This is a point picked up in Richard Shannon’s book The Crisis of Imperialism 1865 to 1915 which quotes umpteen later Victorian politicians and commentators arguing against extending the franchise precisely because they’d seen what it led to in France, namely the election of a repressive, right wing autocrat.)

Hobsbawm’s excited description of the way the ‘scary’ working class were ‘threatening’ bourgeois hegemony, were on the brink of ‘seizing power’ and righting the world’s wrongs, underplays the extent to which universal suffrage led:

  1. directly to the rise of populist nationalist anti-left wing governments
  2. and to the fragmentation of the left into ‘reformists’, prepared to compromise their radical principles and ally with liberal parties in order to get into parliament, and the die-hards who held out for radical social change

In other words, extending the franchise led to the exact opposite of what Hobsbawm hopes. Something borne out after the Great War, when the franchise was drastically extended to almost all adults in most European countries and the majority of European governments promptly became either right-wing or out-and-out dictatorships. Mussolini won the 1924 Italian general election; Hitler won the largest share of the vote in the Weimar Republic’s last election. Or Hungary:

In January 1920, Hungarian men and women cast the first secret ballots in the country’s political history and elected a large counterrevolutionary and agrarian majority to a unicameral parliament. (Wikipedia)

Switching from Hobsbawm altogether to the present day, 2021, any reader of the English left-liberal English press must be struck how, since the Brexit vote, it has stopped being a taboo subject to suggest that quite possibly a large proportion of the British electorate is thick and uneducated (terms you frequently meet in the Guardian newspaper). You can nowadays read plenty of ‘progressive’ commentators pointing out that the great British electorate was persuaded, in voting for Brexit (2016) and Boris (2019), to vote for populist right-wing demagoguery and against their own best interests as working people. I have read so many commentators pointing out that it is the very conservative working class communities who voted for Brexit who are most likely going to suffer the prolonged consequences of economic dislocation and decline.

In other words, right now in 2021, you can read representatives of the left openly stating that universal franchise, one person one vote, not only doesn’t lead to the socialist paradise Hobsbawm implies it will, but the opposite – rule by right-wing populists.

As far as I can remember, thoughts like this would have been utterly taboo in the 1980s, or have immediately identified you as a right-wing conservative. But now I read comments like this every day in the Guardian or New Statesman.

So – this is the recent experience and current political discourse I bring to reading Hobsbawm’s chapter about democracy and which makes me think his assumption, his faith, his Marxist belief, that simply expanding the franchise to all adults would of itself bring about social revolution and justice and equality is too simplistic.

  • It doesn’t correlate with the historical fact that, as soon as the franchises of most European nations had been radically expanded (after the Great War), lots of them became very right-wing.
  • It doesn’t speak to our present situation where, it’s true that no-one is openly suggesting restricting the franchise, but many progressives are questioning whether the universal franchise produces the optimum results for a nation and its working class. Trump. Brexit.

The world is not as we would like it to be.

My opposition to Hobsbawm’s teleology

I am a Darwinian materialist. I believe there is no God and therefore no purpose or direction to human lives or events. There is no plan, divine or otherwise. Shit happens, people try to cope. Obviously shit happens within a complex web of frameworks and structures which we have inherited, it takes a lot of effort to disentangle and understand what is going on, or what we think is going on, and sometimes it may happen in ways some of which we can broadly predict. But ‘events, dear boy, events’ are the determining feature in human affairs. Take Afghanistan this past week. Who knew? Who expected such a sudden collapse?

This isn’t a very profound analysis but my aim is to contrast my preference for a theory of the unpredictable and chaotic nature of human affairs with Hobsbawm’s profound belief in Marxist teleology, meaning the very nineteenth century, rationalist, scientistic belief that there are laws of history and that human societies obey them and that they can be predicted and harnessed.

Teleology: the doctrine of design and purpose in the material world.

Teleology is the belief that if you shave away all the unfortunate details of history, and the peculiarities of culture, and the impact of charismatic individuals, in fact if you pare away enough of what makes people people and societies societies, you can drill down to Fundamental Laws of History. And that Karl Marx discovered them. And that these laws predict the coming collapse of capitalism and its replacement by a wonderful classless society. And that you, too, can be part of this future by joining the communist party today for the very reasonable online registration fee of just £12!

Anyway, the teleology (‘sense of direction, meaning or purpose’) which is a vital component of Marxism, the confidence in an inevitable advent of a future of justice and equality, which underpins every word Hobsbawm wrote, evaporated in 1991 and nothing has taken its place.

There will be no Revolution. The ‘capitalist system’ will not be overthrown. At most there will be pointless local revolts like the Arab Spring, revolts which, more than likely, end up with regimes more repressive or anarchic than the ones they overthrew (Syria, Libya, Egypt).

This sort of thing will occur repeatedly in countries which did not enjoy the early or middle benefits of the technological revolutions Hobsbawm describes, countries of the permanently developing world, which will always have largely peasant populations, which will always depend on the export of raw materials (oil being the obvious one), which will always have unstable political systems, liable to periodic upheavals.

The environmental perspective

If there is One Big Thing we do know about the future, it is something which isn’t mentioned anywhere in Hobsbawm’s book, which is that humanity is destroying the environments which support us.

My son is studying biology at university. He says it amounts to having world-leading experts explain the beauty and intricacy of various eco-systems in beautiful places around the planet – and then describing how we are destroying them.

As a result, my son thinks that human civilisation, in its present form, is doomed. Not because of global warming. But because we are killing the oceans, exterminating all the fish, destroying species diversity, wrecking agricultural land, using up all the fresh water, relying more on more on fragile monocultures, and generally devastating the complex web of ecosystems which make human existence possible.

Viewed from this perspective, human activity is, overall, fantastically destructive. And the massive ideological divide Hobsbawm makes between the tradition of the nineteenth century ‘bourgeoisie’, on the one hand, and the revolutionaries, Communards, Bolsheviks and communists he adulates, on the other, fades into insignificance.

We now know that polluting activity and environmental destruction were as bad or worse under communist regimes as they were under capitalist ones. It was the Soviet system which gave us Chernobyl and its extended cover-up. Capitalist ones are at least capable of reform in a way communist regimes turned out not to be. Green political movements are a feature of advanced ‘capitalist’ countries but were suppressed, along with every other form of deviance, under communist governments.

But then again, it really doesn’t matter from a global perspective. Looked at from the planet’s point of view, all human activity is destructive.

So this is why, looking at them from a really high-level perspective, as of aliens visiting earth and reviewing the last couple of centuries, these books no longer make me angry at the wicked ‘capitalist’ exploitation of its workers and entire colonial nations and the ‘heroic’ resistance of the proletariat and the exploited peoples of the colonial nations.

I just see a swarm of humans ruining their habitat and leading, inevitably, to their own downfall.

Hobsbawm’s style

Hobsbawm is very repetitive. He mentions bicycles and cars and so on representing new technologies at least three times. I swear he points out that imperialism was the result of increasing competition between the industrial nations at least half a dozen times. He tells us that a number of Germany’s most eminent revolutionaries came from Russia, namely Rosa Luxemburg, at least four times. He repeats President Porfirio Diaz’s famous lament, ‘Poor Mexico! So far from God, so close to the United States’ twice. He tells us twice that western governments were keen to invest in medical research into tropical fevers solely because the results promised to help their officers and administrators survive longer in colonial outposts several times. He repeatedly tells us that Bismarck was the master of maintaining peace between the powers (pp.312 and 318).

The impression this gives is of rambling, repetitive and circular arguments instead of linear, logical ones.

Hobsbawm’s discussions are often very gaseous in the sense that they go on at length, use lots of highbrow terminology, but at the end it’s hard to make out or remember what he’s said. The discussion of nationalism in Age of Capital was long and serious-sounding but I emerged at the end of it none the wiser. The long discussion of sociology in chapter 11 of this book left me none the wiser about sociology except for Hobsbawm’s weird suggestion that, as a social science, it was founded and encouraged in order to protect society against Marxism and revolution. Really?

In a similar spirit, although he uses the word ‘bourgeoisie’ intensively throughout both books, I emerged with no clearer sense of what ‘bourgeoisie’ really means than I went in with. He himself admits it to be a notoriously difficult word to define and then more or less fails to define it.

On a more serious level I didn’t understand his discussion of nationalism in Age of Capital or his discussion of the increasing democratisation in the 1890s in this volume, because they were vague and waffly. It seemed to me that as soon as he left his home turf of economic development, his ideas become foggy and repetitive.

And sometimes he comes over as a hilariously out of touch old buffer:

By 1914 the more unshackled youth in the western big cities and resorts was already familiar with sexually provocative rhythmic dances of dubious but exotic origin (the Argentinian tango, the syncopated steps of American blacks). (p.204)

‘The syncopated steps of American blacks’. No wonder American capitalism was doomed to collapse.

Overall conclusion

Hobsbawm’s books are thrilling because of their scope and range and the way he pulls together heterogenous material from around the world, presenting pages of awe-inspiring stats and facts, to paint a vivid, thrilling picture of a world moving through successive phases of industrialisation.

But he is eerily bereft of ideas. This comes over in the later chapters of both books in which he feels obligated, like so many historians before him, to write a chapter about The Arts. This is not his natural territory and the reader has to struggle through turgid pages of Hobsbawm dishing up absolutely conventional judgements (Van Gogh was an unrecognised genius; the arts and crafts movement was very influential), which are so lame and anodyne they are embarrassing.

I had noticed his penchant for commenting on everything using numbered points (‘The bourgeois century destabilised its periphery in two main ways…’; ‘Three major forces of resistance existed in China…’, ‘Three developments turned the alliance system into a time bomb…’, and many others). Eventually it dawned on me that he produces these nifty little sets of issues or causes or effects instead of having ideas. Lists beat insights.

Considering how fertile Marxist literary and art criticism has been in the twentieth century (cf György Lukács, Walter Benjamin, Theodor Adorno, Frederick Jameson) it is very disappointing how flat and untheoretical and banal Hobsbawm’s comments about the arts in both books are. In these later sections of each book it is amazing how much he can write without really saying anything. He is a good example of someone who knows all the names and terminology and dates and styles and has absolutely nothing interesting to say about them.


Credit

The Age of Empire: 1875 to 1914 by Eric Hobsbawm was published in 1975 by Weidenfeld and Nicholson. All references are to the 1985 Abacus paperback.

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