President George W. Bush kicked off his European tour this week by delivering an address in Prague at the Conference on Democracy & Security. Bush’s speech was supposed to serve as a reaffirmation of America’s commitment to democracy, reform, and human rights, which the White House views as vital to reducing the appeal of extremism. But while few dispute the logic that societal openness is of considerable importance in the long term to winning the war on terror, Bush’s latest appeal will no doubt have little impact in the Arab world. Rather, it highlights the difficulty the United States faces in championing democracy in the Arab world.
Organized by non-governmental organizations, the conference itself is only of symbolic importance. But unfortunately for Bush, the symbolism cuts two ways because one prominent sponsor of the forum is Natan Sharansky. At first glance, Sharansky is ideally suited for the role. He is a legendary Soviet dissident who was imprisoned for years for his advocacy and, more recently, wrote an influential book on the importance of democracy as a tool against extremism.
But this fails to take into account that Sharansky’s career is divided into two very distinct phases: Soviet dissident and, more recently, right-wing Israeli politician. In fairness, Sharansky’s latter, more controversial career, which included a stint as Israel’s deputy prime minister, should not negate his admirable work in the Soviet Union. But given his hard-line ideology towards Palestinians specifically and Arabs generally, his credibility is fatally undercut in the Islamic world. Bush’s appearance suggests America’s vision of regional democracy is identical to Sharanky’s — which is entirely unacceptable to Arabs.
Initially, the White House’s democracy promotion agenda was greeted warmly, albeit not enthusiastically, in the Arab world. As numerous reports, statistics, and anecdotal evidence suggested, the Arab world has long been ripe for reform. Most notably, the Arab Human Development reports — penned by Arabs — highlighted many regional deficiencies. If the United States could encourage change by increasing cultural dialogue, providing technical assistance, and working with governments to develop civil society and strengthen the rule of law, Arabs largely welcomed the initiative.
But enthusiasm was noticeably lacking. The Arab world harbored deep suspicions about what, exactly, democracy and reform meant. Was the intent to strengthen incumbent governments or undermine them? More ominously, was the effort merely a ruse to create compliant governments more likely to serve American and Israeli interests? Given these fears, which were easy to detect and understandable given the Middle East’s recent history, the Arab world carefully monitored the language and policies adopted.
Influenced by neo-conservatives and outside figures such as Sharansky and Ahmed Chalabi, Bush hoped that the Iraqi invasion would produce a democracy domino effect in the Arab world. It was believed, foolishly in hindsight, that drafting a constitution and holding elections in Iraq would be the spark that lit the fire. Unfortunately for Bush, however, Arabs viewed Palestine, not Iraq, as the real test of America’s commitment to democracy. And the Bush administration clearly failed this test.
Despite the occupation, poverty, and despair in the Occupied Territories, the Palestinian Authority managed to hold two successful elections — for the presidency and legislature. International observers marveled particularly at the legislative elections, which were waged openly and fairly. The PA, for all its institutional limitations and deficiencies, proved that it could conduct elections that made Florida officials — who infamously flubbed the 2000 US presidential election — envious. Voter lists were impeccable, and instructions — even for disabled voters — were clear.
Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas, among others, warned the White House to careful what it wished for. Abbas knew that holding the elections was a gamble. On the one hand, should Fatah win, Abbas would have a mandate for change — most significantly the ability to negotiate peace with Israel. But given Fatah’s inability to clinch a peace deal since Oslo, coupled with corruption, an opening was given to the opposition — Hamas. Regardless, after months of American prodding and repeated postponements, Abbas held the elections which, to the mortification of the United States, ushered in a Hamas-led government.
The Bush administration gambled and lost. Democracy is about choices, and the Palestinian people opted for change. After demonizing Yasser Arafat for years, and recognizing that Arafat’s popularity among his own people had diminished, the US attempted to make Abbas the symbol of change. But their effort did not resonate with the Palestinians, who saw Abbas as a symbol of continuity. The Palestinian people sent a clear message: They did not want more of the same.
America was caught in a trap of its own making. Having labeled Hamas a terrorist entity, the US was unable to recognize the new Palestinian government. Moreover, Congress — following the cues of AIPAC and Israel — blocked Bush’s plans to provide assistance directly to Abbas. Secretary Condoleezza Rice’s attempts to split hairs over which parts of the government were Fatah and which were Hamas proved futile. Essentially, the US lost the ability to offer the PA financial carrots, limiting its ability to help Abbas.
In cutting off assistance to the PA, the US weakly explained that with choice comes responsibility — and that the Palestinians would have to suffer the consequences. But the question of “democracy” still looms over the Palestine and damages American credibility. More specifically, is Sharansky’s democracy — acceptance of Israel and support of US policies — the only form acceptable to the United States?
— David Dumke is principal of the Washington-based MidAmr Group. E-mail: [email protected].
