In a country where you can get a prison sentence for speaking out against the King, there are many things that people will simply be unwilling to discuss. As my 23 year-old host uncle puts it, "Everyone has their own Mukhabarrat (secret policeman) in their mind." For many, the Mukhabarrat is more than a mental construct--upon arriving at the offices of al-Ghad, the daily Arabic newspaper for a meeting with my ISP advisor, a political columnist at the paper, I was met by the site of a distraught-looking man dressed in typical Hajji attire--long white robes, long gray beard, red and white kaffiyeh covering his head--coming out of my advisor's office. Before we began discussing my project, my advisor explained to me that the secret police had arrested his son on charges that he was considering going to Iraq to join the insurgency against American forces, and he had no idea where he was or when he might come back, and was trying to use the influence of the press to seek information. Sometimes, the Mukhabarat just make people disappear.
Was I surprised to find the homely, gentle-looking father of what most of us would call a potential terrorist, a radical, irrational insurgent in my midst? No, not really. There is such a terribly low level of comprehension among the people here as to why the US went into Iraq--I guess it's inexcusable on our part as well, for though I can articulate the various arguments that were employed prior to the invasion, none can hold up in conversations with anyone here--the notion of "spreading democracy" is altogether ludicrous to them, and most, like one taxi driver I had today, are convinced that Bush's sole motivation was oil, because for people of this region, it was common knowledge that there was no al-Qaeda presence in Iraq under Saddam's rule, nor any WMDs. For people who have never had political freedom, stability is the most highly-valued component of a government, and thus whatever abstract notions of spreading democracy Americans may have rallied behind hold no credence here. Leading up to his death, there was so much vilification of Saddam as an aspiring world dictator, an indignant power that must be crushed, and certainly, he was no democratic or kind sovereign, but none of the rulers of this region are, and thus, to Jordanians, Iraq was their strong ally to the East, who provided them with highly subsidized oil, and whose people shared the same culture and values as themselves. Now, America has destroyed all that, Jordan is again receiving the aftershocks of regional conflict, is unprotected from extremism on its Eastern front, and is reeling from inflation due to a combination of oil prices and continuing government privatization campaigns. Whatever erudite rhetoric may have been purveyed to the American people as justification for the Iraq War holds no value here, and the US presence can only be seen as a cruel and unjust occupation.
Whenever I have conversations of this nature, the most common phrase I hear from Jordanians is, "we love the American people...but we hate Bush!" For them, never having lived in a democratic society, there is never any culpability on the part of the American people for the decisions of their government--I once tried to suggest in a lecture with a Muslim Brotherhood member who was railing on our favoritism towards Israel in the peace process yet simultaneously lauding the hospitality of the people he met during his studies in Texas that, for better or for worse, to some extent, the American people are responsible for the decisions of their government, and to view the two as completely distinct entities wasn't necessarily productive. Sure, with Iraq in particular, much has been made of the propaganda and neo-conservative circles who pushed the Bush administration to use more executive power than typically occurs in our system of checks and balances--I certainly didn't support the Iraq war--but that doesn't mean that many American's didn't advocate for going to war, and that their opinion didn't push forward the ball into motion. Just as Jordanians may assume that the American people are completely separate and distinct from their government as they are from their rulers, I think many Americans, myself included, view the people of this region through our own political viewpoint, and subconsciously assume some continuity between the ideologies and behavior of the people and the government. That, as I have continued to learn, is completely wrong for the most part. It was impossible for me to see what democracy can do to a people until I came to a place without it.
Of all the surrounding Arab countries, Jordan is supposed to be relatively tolerant, allows limited political participation, and markets itself as a country in the process of democratic reform. The further I get into my research, however, the more I realize how much of a joke this is. On top of the Mukhabarat and the Hashemite cult of personality (pictures of the King seem more or less mandatory in every business, and dominate the streets; everyone speaks lovingly of the King until you reach an anonymous area like the blogosphere, and then the scathing criticisms begin to emerge...), the methods by which the Hashemite regime have constructed their alliances makes democracy functionally impossible to achieve, as it would diminish the privilege of the tribal elites who are the backbone of monarchical support. Of course, none of the elites see any reason to forgo their standing in favor of this political experiment that has more or less never worked in any part of the Middle East. How can democracy be created in a country where an established political elite holds the keys to political stability, and an upset of those privileges will be fiercely opposed in any circumstances?
It seems as though there was genuine love and respect for King Hussein, who ruled for multiple decades until his death in 1999, but since his son Abdullah has taken over, the ability to strike a balance between actions taken to advance Jordan internationally and things done for the people seems to have been lost in the balance somewhere. Abdullah's reign has been characterized by an increase in security presence and a tightening of political liberties--though justified by the regime by the larger instability in the region. My ISP has led me to study the behavior of the government in the recent November Parliamentary elections, in which the Islamic Action Front, the political arm of the Muslim Brotherhood and the sole legitimate opposition party, suffered a stunning defeat that reduced their representation in Parliament by something like 65%.
The IAF's defeat was the talk of the town in academic circles both here and in America, and dozens of studies and papers have been published on the deterioration in relationship between the IAF and the state over the past two decades, and the internal divisions within the party that caused its loss. Heavily documented as well is the blatant interference of the government, which used tactics such as bussing soliders (all of Jordanian origin and pro-regime, while the bulk of the IAF is of Palestinian origin) to cast their votes in districts where government supported candidates might have had competition, ballet-box stuffing, and the like. In one piece I read, it is even considered fairly standard for an opposition candidate to receive a call from the Mukhabarat prior to the election suggesting that they withdraw...consequences being self-explanatory. If Jordan is trying to sell this to the West as "a country in the process of democratic transition", someone is being sorely duped, let me tell you.
My ISP is focusing on a different aspect of the elections, namely the perceived government tactic of supporting the rise of the new business elite, neither tribally-based nor Islamist, into the political arena as a means of countering Islamist power. Though the state and the Muslim Brotherhood coexisted in harmony and cooperation for many decades--the government facilitated and encouraged the spread of Islamist social infrastructure and influence throughout the country as a means of lessing the strength of pro-Palestinian, pan-Arab and leftist movements that threatened the regime throughout the 50's, 60's, and 70's, the relationship was irrevocably damaged once King Hussein made peace with Israel in 1994, as the Muslim Brotherhood is fundamentally opposed to the existence of any foreign occupation whatsoever on the land of Palestine. Following the Gulf War, King Hussein's decision to support Iraq, though deifying in the eyes of his people, thrust two knives into his stomach, firstly that the West withdrew all of its foreign aid that was propping up the Jordanian economy, and secondly that numerous Jordanian expatriates working in the Gulf Countries, Kuwait especially were kicked out, creating another wave of refugees to strain state systems that were no longer being funded by foreign aid money. Economic incentives aside though, I do believe that King Hussein was a truly visionary leader who genuinely wanted peace with Israel. Nonetheless, his choice created an irrevocable division between his government and the Islamists whose power he had helped create.
Since much of the Muslim Brotherhood's support base at the grassroots level is among Jordanians of Palestinian origin, there was no way the Islamists could forsake the cause that had defined them for so long, and focus solely on domestic issues. In fact, for decades, Hamas and the Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood were more or less the same organization, or very closely affiliated at the least, and only in 1999 did Abdullah expel the Hamas leadership from Jordan upon assuming the crown. It is clear that many ties--ideological and otherwise--still exist between the two groups, though the Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood claims to not espouse political violence on any level, within Jordan. That being said, as the priorities between the Islamists and the state have grown further and further divided, the IAF's platforms have tended more towards inflexible, radical foreign policy positions, while the state is focused on domestic issues such as economic reform.
One noticeable effect of the lack of democracy in this country is the missing sense of citizenship I certainly feel as an American--an interest in the political process, and a sense of responsibility for the government's actions. Perhaps I only feel this way because part of me thinks I can make some sort of difference at some point down the line. Given its unique demographics, Jordan has struggled with national unity and identity for its entire existence, with the majority of its population refusing to let go of their Palestinian heritage. In my first ISP interview, I spoke with a man named Oraib Rentawi, a well-established journalist, former PLO member, and director of the al-Quds Center for Political Studies here in Amman. Rentawi spent the first 20 years of his life in a Palestinian refugee camp in Amman before attending the University of Jordan, where he was kicked out halfway through his matriculation for political activism, which was completely banned at the time. He spent the next twenty years or so in exile, making it big in Beirut's journalism industry before returning to Amman. Throughout the course of the peace process between Palestine and Israel, it is c lear that if and when a Palestinian state is created, the right of return for all Palestinians in the Diaspora is simply not feasible--though many claim the "right" and recognition itself is all they want, there are many who still cling to their ownership papers and house keys passed down through their families, one day hoping to put them to use again. The issue of Palestinian identity being destructive to Jordanian unity came up in our conversation and Rentawi was quick to explain:
The Palestinians and Jordanians are like this, you see...there was a fire in my house, and there was only one window, so I had to jump out of it, and there was a Jordanian truck passing by on the street where I landed. It is nobody's fault--they cannot blame us for coming, and we cannot blame them for our troubles here, but now we must live in the same house. It is true, that we have been treated fairer here than most in other countries, but that doesn't mean we can give up our Palestinian identity, you know why? Even if I was born in Amman, and live here until I die...the Israelis built their state upon the story of a land without a people for a people without a land, that is what they tell their children and grandchildren....and the moment I stop calling myself a Palestinian and become just a Jordanian, then they are right"
The Jordanian state has lived in fear of this unwavering Palestinian identity to some extent, and the country's electoral laws are shaped accordingly; essentially, votes from urban areas such as Amman (where most all Palestinians live) are severely underrepresented in relation to the tribal votes, and as a result, the vast majority of Palestinians, (and thus the majority of the population), is completely uninterested in the political process. The few that are have traditionally been associated with the Islamists. Though the government financing and support of the new business elite may be viewed as sabotaging the democratic process, I'm interested in it because the vast majority of the private sector is controlled by Palestinians, and if involving these secular-minded businessmen in the Parliament is widening the spectrum of Palestinian political life, I am optimistic that it may spark more political participation across the board and allow the country's demographic majority to become more invested in Jordanian politics, in doing so becoming more invested in their country and strengthening Jordanian identity. Phew, that was a long impromptu history lesson! I must go schedule interviews to see if my hypothesis is correct....
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