Cairo to the Moon

09 February 2011 | 16:40 Code : 10271 General category
By Hooman Majd.
A quote attributed to FDR, way back in 1939—probably something he never said, but which has become part of the folklore—best describes long-standing U.S. policy and attitudes toward the underdeveloped and Third World and the American dilemma now in dealing with pro-democracy movements in the Arab world: “he may be a son-of-a-bitch, but he’s our son-of-a-bitch.” Certainly illustrative of the U.S.-Egyptian relationship and American coziness with Egyptian strongmen since the rule of Anwar Sadat, or at least since the Camp David Accords, it also explains U.S. hesitancy in pushing for (or even now fully supporting) democratic reform in the world’s largest and most influential Arab nation. The greatest concern over the Egyptian uprising among American politicians and pundits (and the population at large which tends to support American-style democracy everywhere) is that the departure of our SOB, in this case Hosni Mubarak, will result in another SOB taking over (the Muslim Brotherhood) which will be, most definitely, not ours.

Iran in 1979 is most often cited as an example, for Americans, of a revolution gone bad—not only did America lose its SOB (the Shah) and those assuming power turn against the U.S. and Israel, but also in the wake of the post-election protests in 2009 the narrative that has gained acceptance among Americans (regardless of its veracity) is that the Iranian government is a dictatorship that is deeply unpopular among the population itself. As such, Americans seem to be falling into two camps on the Egyptian crisis, one (which includes liberal Americans ordinarily disposed to siding with the people in cases of revolutionary change) cautious about abandoning a crucial ally who might be more softly persuaded to make changes that won’t adversely affect U.S. or Israeli strategic interests, and the other convinced of the advantages of being “on the right side of history” and siding with the protestors in Tahrir Square, while being forced to simultaneously downplaying the danger of a complete takeover by the Muslim Brotherhood. Many in this camp also tend to make Egyptian analogies with Turkey (rather than Iran), suggesting that a Turkish model of democracy for Egypt, although one with an Islamic tint, is one that the U.S. can be comfortable with.

Naturally, it is difficult to find any American politician or analyst who would support a Muslim Brotherhood government in Egypt, or at least one that makes independent choices and one that might conceivably withdraw from the peace treaty with Israel, even if such a government were the true choice of the Egyptian people. Rooted in a Cold War attitude that seems impossible to shake, this fault line—a genuine desire to support the democratic choices of a people against recognizing that doing so might be contrary to U.S. national interests—exposes the great paradox (some say hypocrisy) of American foreign policy since the beginnings of empire. It is a fault line that today runs through Iraq, the Palestinian territories (with the democratically elected government of Hamas), and Lebanon (with Hezbollah); could extend throughout the Arab world, and is non-partisan despite the public pronouncements of any given administration, Democrat or Republican. The Obama administration has clearly struggled with this paradox for weeks now—ever since the Tunisians unceremoniously dumped their U.S. and European-backed president—and while some in Washington are patting themselves on the back for treading the fault line carefully and with great skill, the reality is that the U.S. is likely a loser in whatever is the final outcome of Egypt’s unrest. No government that is by the people can ignore the people’s wishes for long, and we know that the Egyptian people, while not necessarily anti-American, are also not always in sync with their government on issues of foreign policy that favor only U.S. or Israeli interests. A perfect example of this is the Egyptian enforcement of the blockade of Gaza, which harms fellow Arabs and is unlikely to be undertaken with the zeal that the Mubarak regime seems to have shown.

And then there’s the elephant in the room (which the U.S. government and the mainstream media have tended to ignore as long as any dictator’s reign), which is the long memory of an oppressed people. No matter how the U.S. strives to ally itself with forces of democracy after the fact, Arabs will not soon forget how it was American support of their dictators that kept them in power for generations, and they will remain suspicious of U.S. intentions for long after a transition to more democratic rule. They will also remember how the U.S., and not just the government, reacts to disobedient nations, from handwringing and expressing displeasure with the Turks for their criticism of Israel or their voting against Iran sanctions at the UN, to antagonism toward Bolivia and Venezuela, or earlier condemnation of an even closer ally, France, over the Iraq war. Remember “freedom fries” at the cafeteria on Capitol Hill, anyone? The U.S. has always shown antipathy to any nation that defies it, even if what the U.S. desires is contrary to the wants and interests of the people of that nation.

The U.S. actually has, or had, an opportunity with the unrest in the Arab world to do what President Obama had promised as a candidate: bring about change, and not just in domestic affairs, but in foreign policy too. It would have required a radical reformulation of its long-standing policies, an introspective examination of the notion of American exceptionalism, and a recognition that short-term losses might turn into long-term gains, rather than the other way around. Sadly, it doesn’t appear that that is to be. We will still have our SOB’s after Egypt (and if Omar Soleiman remains in any capacity, he’s both a SOB and he’s ours). We will try to protect and preserve them, and hey, they can even be Islamists too, like our very own Wahhabi Saudis. As long as they remain ours.