(International Political Economy Series) Bahgat Korany, Paul Noble, Rex Brynen (Eds.) - The Many Faces of National Security in The Arab World-Palgrave Macmillan UK (1993) PDF

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TIIE POLmCAL ECONOMY OF FOREIGN POLICY IN SOUTHEAST ASIA
The Many Faces of
National Security in
the Arab World
Edited by
Bahgat Korany
Professor of Political Science
Director of the Arab Studies Program
Universite de Montreal
Paul Noble
Associate Professor of Political Science
Co-founder ofthe Middle East Studies Program
McGiII University, Montreal
and
Rex Brynen
Assistant Professor of Political Science
Chairperson ofthe Middle East Studies Program
McGiII University, Montreal
Palgrave Macmillan
Consortium interuniversitaire pour les etudes arabes
Inter-University Consortium for Arab 5tudies
~~j ""L-I.,;..ill J'-::r~ ""L.....l ~ ..lb.:;!
(Montre.al)
ISBN 978-0-333-57222-1 ISBN 978-1-349-22568-2 (eBook)
DOI 10.1007/978-1-349-22568-2
© Bahgat Korany, Paul Noble and Rex Brynen 1993
All rights reserved. For infonnation, write:

Scholarly and Reference Division,
St. Martin's Press, Inc., 175 Fifth Avenue,
New York, N.Y. 10010
First published in the United States of America in 1993

ISBN 978-0-312-08368-7 (cl.)
ISBN 978-0-312-08378-6 (pbk.)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
The many faces of national security in the Arab world / edited by
Bahgat Korany, Paul Noble, Rex Brynen.
p. cm.
Includes index.
ISBN 978-0-312-08368-7 - ISBN 978-0-312-08378-6 (PbkJ
I. Arab countries-National security. I. Korany, Bahgat.
11. Noble, Paul. III. Brynen, Rex.
DS39.M36 1993
355'.0330174'927-dc20 92-19906
CIP
To Margaret, Sheilah and Alex for their understanding
and support
Contents
List 0/ Tables ix
List 0/ Abbreviations x
Notes on the Contributors xii
Introduction xvii
Map 0/ the Arab World xxiv
I The Analysis of National Security in the Arab Context:

Restating the State of the Art
Bahgat Korany, Rex Brynen and Paul Noble
PART ONE SECURITY CONCERNS OLD AND NEW
Introduction 26
2 Unravelling the Concept: 'National Security' in the Third

World 31
Mohammed Ayoob
3 The Security Dilemma in the Middle East: A Prognosis

for the Decade Ahead 56
Janice Gross Stein
4 Dilemmas of Security and Development in the Arab

World: Aspects of the Linkage 76
Ali E. Hillal Dessouki
PART TWO UNDERDEVELOPMENT AS

INSECURITY
Introduction 92
5 Neglected Aspects of the Security Dilemma 100

Fred H. Lawson
vii
viii Contents
6 Does Food Security Make a Difference? Aigeria, Egypt

and Turkey in Comparative Perspective 127
Karen Pfeifer
7 From the Mirage of Rent to the Burden of Debt:

Adjustment and Insecurity in Arab Economies 145
Michel Chatelus
8 National Integration and National Security: The Case of

Yemen 169
Manfred W. Wenner
9 Resources, Wealth and Security: The Case of Kuwait 185

Mehran lVak},ifavani
PARTTHREE SECURITY AS DEVELOPMENT?

STATE-BUILDING, ECONOMIC
DEVELOPMENT AND THE
MILITARY
Introduction 206
10 Arab Military Industrialization: Security Incentives and

Economic Impact 214
Yezid Sayigh
11 State-Building and the Military in Arab Africa 239

l. Wi/liam Zartman
12 State and Society in the Arab World: Towards a New

Role for the Security Services? 258
Elizabeth Picard
13 Conc1usion: The Changing Regional Security

Environment 275
PaullVoble, Rex Brynen and Bahgat Korany
Appendix: Basic Data 303
Index 310
List of Tables
5.1 Machinery as a percentage of total imports 112
5.2 Foodstuffs as a percentage of total imports 113
5.3 Export concentration indices 114
5.4 Capital accounts 115
6.1 Agricultural population 129
6.2 Agricultural production and food supply 130
6.3 Agricultural exports and imports 131
6.4 Cereal imports and food aid 133
7.1 OAPEC oil revenues 150
7.2 Receipts of workers' remittances 151
APPENDIX
A.l Social data 303

A.2 Economic data 304
A.3 Military data 305
A.4 OPEC oil production 307
A.5 WorId oil reserves 308
ix
List of Abbreviations
ANP National People's Anny (Algeria)
AOI Arab Organization for Industrialization
BP British Petroleum
cw chemical weapons/warfare
CENTCOM Central Command (US)
EC European Community
FAR Royal Anned Forces (Morocco)
FIS Islamic Salvation Front (Algeria)
FLN National Liberation Front (Algeria)
FY financial year
GCC Gulf Cooperation Council .
GDP gross domestic product
GNP gross national product
IBRD International Bank for Reconstruction and
Development (World Bank)
IISS International Institute for Strategie Studies
IMF International Monetary Fund
KFAED Kuwait Fund for Arab Economic Development
KlO Kuwait Investment Office
KOC Kuwait Oil Company
KPC Kuwait Petroleum Company
NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organization
OAPEC Organization of Arab Oil Producing Countries
OECD Organization for Economic Cooperation and
Development
OPEC Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries
PDRY People's Democratic Republic of Yemen (South)
PLO Palestine Liberation Organization
R&D research and development
RDF Rapid Deployment Force
RFFG Reserve Fund for Future Generations (Kuwait)
SPLA Sudanese People's Liberation Anny
SSM surface-to-surface missile
UAE United Arab Emirates
UN United Nations
UNCTAD United Nations Conference on Trade and Development
x
List 0/ A.bbreviations xi
UNDP United Nations Development Programme

UNEF United Nations Emergency Force
US United States
USSR Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
YAR Yemen Arab Republic (North)
Notes on the Contributors
Bahgat Korany is Professor of Political Science and Director of the
Arab Studies Program at the Universite de Montreal. For 1991-92 he
was at St Antony's College, Oxford University. His most recent books
as author or co-author are The Foreign Policies of Arab States;
Regimes Politiques Arabes; How Foreign Policy Decisions are Made
in the Third World; and Analyse des Relations Internationales. He has
also contributed more than fifteen book chapters and thirty articles in
such periodicals as Revue FranFaise de· Science Politique; Etudes
Internationales; the International Social Science Journal; the Journal
of South Asian and Middle Eastern Studies; Third World Affairs
Yearbook; and World Politics.
Paul Noble is Associate Professor of Political Science and co-founder

of the Middle East Studies Pro gram at McGilI University. He has
contributed chapters on the international relations of the Arab world
to The Foreign Policies of Arab States; Echoes of the Intifada; and
Canada and the Arab World; and articles to such journals as Interna-
tional Perspectives and Arab Studies Quarterly.
Rex Brynen is Assistant Professor of Political Science and Chairperson

of the Middle East Studies Program at McGilI University. He is the
author of Sanctuary and Survival: The PLO in Lehanon and editor of
Echoes of the Intifada: Regional Repercussions of the Palestinian-Israeli
Conflict. His articles on security and development in the Arab world
have appeared in Arah Studies Quarterly; the Canadian Journal of
Political Science; the Journal of Palestine Studies; the Journal of
Refugee Studies; International Perspectives; and elsewhere.
Mohammed Ayoob is Associate Professor of International Relations,

James Madison College, Michigan State University, and former
SSRC-MacArther Foundation Fellow at the Center of International
Studies, Princeton University. He specializes in Third-World security
issues, with particular emphasis on the Middle East, South Asia, and
Southeast Asia. His latest book is India and Southeast Asia: Indian
Perceptions and Policies. He is also editor of Leadership Perceptions
and National Security: The Southeast Asian Experience; Regional
xii
Notes on the Contributors xiii
Security in the Third World; and The Middle East in World Polities.
He has also published widely in such journals as World Polities;
International Studies Quarterly; Foreign Policy; World Policy Journal;
Asian Survey; International A//airs; and the International Journal.
Michel Chatelus is Professor of Economics at the Institut d'Etudes

Politiques at the Universitt~ de Grenoble 11, and Research Associate at
the Institut d'Economie et Politique de )'Energie (IEPE-CNRS
Grenoble). He is editor of L'Industrialisation du bassin mediterraneen,
and has contributed articles and book chapters to the International
Journal 0/ Middle Eastern Studies; Maghreb-Machrek; and The Rentier
State; among others.
All E. Hillal Dessouki is Professor of Political Science and Director of

the Center for Political Research and Studies at Cairo University. He
has also taught at UCLA, Princeton, and the American University in
Cairo. Among his extensive writings on security and development in
the Arab world are Egypt and the Great Powers; The Iraq-Iran War;
Islamic Resurgence in the Arab World; and the Foreign Policies 0/ Arab
States.
Fred H. Lawson is Associate Professor of Government at Mills College

in Oakland, California. He is author of Social Origins 0/ Egyptian
Expansionism; and Bahrain: The Modernization 0/ Autocracy. His
essays on the political economy and foreign policy of the Arab world
have appeared in International Organization; the International Journal
0/ Middle East Studies; the International Journal; Arab Studies
Quarterly; Orient; the Journal 0/ Peace Research; and the International
History Review.
Karen Pfierer is Associate Professor of Economics at Smith College

and a contributing editor of Middle East Report, part of the Middle
East Research and Information Project. She is the author of Agrarian
Reform under State Capitalism in Aigeria and of articles on economic
transformation in the Middle East that have appeared in Research in
Economic History; the Journal of Economic History; and the Quarterly
Bulletin of Third World Studies (Japan).
Mehran Nakhjavani is an economic consultant specializing in oil and

Middle Bast afTairs, and teaches in the Department of Economics at
McGill University. Formerly Associate Editor of the Cyprus-based
xiv Notes on the Contributors
Middle &st Economic Survey, he is the author of Arab Banks in the

International Financial Markets; Iraq: What if Sanctions Fail?; the
EIU's Country Reports for Kuwait and Iraq; and numerous articles
and monographs.
Elizabeth Picard is Charge de recherches at the Fondation Nationale

des Sciences Politiques (paris). She is the author of Liban, Etat de
Discorde, contributor to The Arab State, and editor of La Question
Kurde. Her articles on Middle East politics and society have appeared
in Awraq; Revue Franpaise de Science Politique; Maghreb-Machrek;
Orient; Revue du Monde Musulman et de la Mediterranee; and else-
where.
Yezid Sayigh is MacArthur Scholar and Research Fellow at St

Antony's College, Oxford, working on international relations and
Third-World security. His most recent publications include Confront-
ing the 1990s: Security in the Developing Countries; Arab Military
Industry: Technical Capabilities, Industrial Performance and Economic
Impact; and Quest for Palestine: The Politics, Organization and
Military History of the Palestinian Armed Struggle 1949-88.
Janice Gross Stein is Professor of Political Science at the University of

Toronto and a Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada. She is co-
author (with Raymond Tanter) of Rational Decision Making: Israel's
Security Choices, 1967 and (with Robert Jervis and Richard Ned
Lebow) of Psychology and Deterrence; and editor of Getting to the
Table: Processes of International Prenegotiation; Peacemaking in the
Middle East; and The Middle East at the Crossroads.
Manfred W. Wenner is Professor of Political Science at Northern

Illinois University, specializing in the Arabian peninsula (particularly
Yemen), Western European politics, and environmental politics. He is
one of the founders of the American Institute for Yemeni Studies, and
his most recent book is The Yemen Arab Republic.
I. William Zartman is the Jacob Blaustein Professor of International

Organization and Conflict Resolution and Director of the African
Studies Pro gram at the Nitze School of Advanced International
Studies of the Johns Hopkins University. His recent books include
Ripe for Resolution: Conflict and Intervention in Africa, and such edited
or co-authored works as Negotiating Internal Conjlicts; The Political
Notes on the Contributors xv
Economy of Reform in Tunisia; The Political Economy of M orocco; and

State and Society in the Contemporary Maghreb. He is president of the
American Institute for Maghreb Studies and past president of the
Middle East Studies Association.
Introduction
This book is a meeting point of two scholarly subfields: security studies
and Arab (or Middle Bastern)1 studies.
Both are presently in astate of flux. Strategie studies (now
modernized as security studies) are as old as the nation-state if not
older, and have their modem origins in the 1648 Westphalia Treaty
that institutionalized the present inter-state system. If we limit our
eonsideration to the post-1945 period, security studies went through a
golden age in the 1950s, followed by a relative decline in the 1960s.2
They have re-emerged in the 1980s, however, with a firmer footing in
the social sciences. 3
The subfield's recent advance is mainly due to its capacity to adapt
to a ehanging international eontext. For a eonsiderable period, for
example, it had as its adage Karl Clausewitz's maxim that war is the
eontinuation of politics by other means. 4
War was so mueh apart of international relations that rules by

whieh astate was justified in going to war and by which hostilities
themselves should be eondueted were eodified under the Law of
War. Even the roles for those who wanted to stay out of a fight were
defined under the Law of Neutrality. In other words, war was not
seen as an aberration but as an inherent feature of a system that had
yet to ereate any viable method of regulating but especially of
preventing its outbreak. Internationallaw was not designed to stop
war, just to render it somewhat less horrible. s
But with the inereasing predominance of nuelear weapons, a general

war threatened to bring the discontinuation of polities and of every-
thing else. Concern with this dilemma spurred the establishment of
university research centres and an influx of eivilian strategists, leading
to the development of sophisticated theories of deterrence, that is, the
antithesis of war.
These, however, were the 1960s, and the 1980s represented a
different global context. Again, the field has responded by attempting
to adapt. Thus even in established and traditional periodieals in the
field, minority voices have expressed doubt about the basie assump-
tions of seeurity or strategie studies:
xvii
xviii Introduction
We are, of course, accustomed to thinking of national security in

terms of military threats arising from beyond the borders of one's
own eountry. But that emphasis is doubly misleading. It draws
attention away from the non-military threats that promise to
undermine the stability of many nations during the years ahead.
And it presupposes that threats arising from outside astate are
somehow more dangerous to its seeurity than threats that arise
within it. 6
This military assumption leads to a 'false image' of reality, whieh
First causes states to concentrate on military threats and to ignore

other and perhaps even more harmful dangers. Thus it reduces their
total security. And second, it contributes to a pervasive militariza-
tion of international relations that in the long run ean only inerease
global insecurity.7
Others have argued that, amid the growing salience of issues of

interdependence, it is desirable to deal not only with 'national' but also
with 'international' security:
The 1990s will demand aredefinition of what eonstitutes national

security. In the 1970s the concept was expanded to inelude interna-
tional economics as it became elear that the US economy was no
longer the independent force it had once been, but was powerfully
affected by economie policies in dozens of other countrles. Global
developments now suggest the need for· another analogous, broad-
ening definition of national security to include resource, environ-
mental and demographie issues. 8
And despite impressive technological advances in the world of

today, these ean still be deficient in overeoming the huge social,
politieal and institutional barriers. As a result, we might very weIl
think of devising social and institutional inventions comparable in
scale to what took place after the Second World War. 9
In all these attempts at adaptation of security or strategie studies,
the discussion is still terrlbly US-centrle. Moreover, the problems of
the majority of the global system - the Third World - were not dealt
with directly. Thus, in Stephen Walt's systematie review of the field,
Third-World problems do not impinge on the analysis nor appear in
Introduction xix
the references. 10 Moreover, there seems to be little awareness among

many specialists of security studies - even the most open-minded - of
the specific historical-sociological context of issues of state-building 11
in these countries and how they could affect the pattern of their
conflicts.
This is why this book takes as its starting point state properties in
the Arab world. Rather than continuing the tradition by limiting itself
to inter-state wars, the book aims to investigate the link between the
specificities of these states and various types of security problems
existing in the region. The aim is not only to draw attention to other
types of threat to national security, and thus widen the definition of
this basic concept, but also potentially to add to the explanation of the
various inter-state wars that plague the region.
The field of Arab studies is also going through an academic
change. 12 It is true that in many fields of social analysis the Arab
world or the Middle Bast has - in comparison with Latin American,
Asian or African studies - lagged behind. 13 The reason might be an
uncritical acceptance of orientalist approaches 14 in explaining the
region. Orientalism reduced the explanation of socio-political struc-
tures and processes to the influence of culture, and particularly Islam.
But the opening to the social sciences does not quite solve the
problem: 1S
The social sciences are part and parcei of the world order, through
which the developed nations and their institutional infrastructures
continue to dominate and shape that order. Paradigms of social
structure and social change, of economic development and of
associated values, ideologies, and institutions have been exported
to the Third World regions in the context of Western economic,
political, military, and ideological penetration into these areas. Ideas
and models of socio-economic change, no less than commodities and
armaments, have been packaged for export. Conceptions of social,
economic, and political development have been exported through
institutional means. 16
Hence the insistence on adaptation of these models in all the social

sciences: their indigenization. 17 For instance, in political science - even
though there is still cause for concern - advances are certainly taking
place. The entrance of an increasing number of younger scholars, more
open-minded and better-trained in the various social sciences, should
help consolidate these advances.
xx Introduction
We think that it is important to build on these advances rather than

being tempted by a position of tabula rosa. Thus, since the region has
been so war-prone, it is unwise to avoid what the field of present
security studies can offer. After aIl, in the 116 inter-state or civil wars
that took place in the past decade, twenty-nine (or 2S per cent)
involved one or more states of this region. IB A relevant research
strategy, then, is not to avoid the subfield of security or strategie
studies, but rather to reformulate and widen its basic concept of
national security to make it more adaptable to the region's problems.
Certainly, in such efforts at reformulation and conceptual widening,
there is the risk of losing a focus so that the concept becomes so elastic
as to be imprecise. But should we worship precision at the price of
being irrelevant? For if the sociallandscape changes frequently, and if
our conceptual apparatus - the supposed reflection on and explanation
of this landscape - lags behind this change, do we not risk being
irrelevant?19 This is the problem that specialists in security studies and
the Third World must debate in coming years: what exactly is the most
profitable trade-off point? In this volume, we have tried to be both
critical and constructive in our efforts to reformulate the study of
security in the Arab context.
Though a coIlective work, the book's main argument emphasizes the
linkage between the problems of national security (understood by us as
state and societal survival) and problems arising in the specific context
of state-building and societal development. The emphasis, then, is on
opening up the state rather than 'black-boxing' it in order to draw
attention to how state-society relations as weIl as resource levels affect
a country's national security.
Chapter 1 starts with a limited survey of (classical) definitions of
national security, situates them within their conceptual and epistemo-
logical context, and makes the case for the widening of the concept.
The rest of the book is divided into three parts, aIl emphasizing the
linkage between the problems of national security and those of
development. At the beginning of each part, we have written a short
introduction to situate the contributions that follow within this central
problematique. In the book's last chapter, we come back to restate the
argument, link it to the present context of the region in the post-Gulf
War era, and encourage others to join us and look ahead. Finally, a
series of appendix tables provides relevant empirical data on security
and development in the region. .
This book is the first volume produced by the Inter-University
Consortium for Arab Studies (Montreal), established jointly by
Introduction xxi
faculty at McGill University and the Universite de Montreal. We

would like to thank our two universities for their financial and moral
support in carrying out and institutionalizing this collaboration. Tbe
chapters published here were initially submitted to a conference
organized by ICAS in Montreal in November 1989. We heartily
thank our co-authors who contributed to the success of this con-
ference, and who gladly agreed to make the revisions necessary for this
book. Both the conference and the book would not have been possible
without the financial support of the Canadian Institute for Interna-
tional Peace and Security, and the Social Sciences and Humanities
Research Council of Canada. We would also like to thank the SSHRC
for its support of individual research projects, which have helped set
the stage for this current endeavour. Gratitude is also due to the
students of the Arab Studies and Middle East Studies programmes at
the Universite de Montreal and McGill University respectively, who
assisted with the original conference; to the ever-eflicient Christiane
Aubin (secretary of Arab Studies, Universite de Montreal); to Eric
Laferriere, Hamish Telford, and especially Adam Jones (McGill); and
to Alex Brynen for providing the index.
Notes
I. In using such a relative and ambiguous term as the Middle East ('middle'
from whose point of view, and who is exactly in it and who is out?), we
are following conventional usage. For us, the Middle East is composed of
all twenty-one members of the Arab League, in addition to Iran, Turkey
and Israel. For our approach to regional politics, see Bahgat Korany, Ali
E. H. Dessouki et al., The Foreign Polieies 0/ Arah States, 2nd edn.
(Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1991).
2. Ken Booth, 'Tbe Evaluation ofStrategic Tbinking', in John Baylis et al.,
Contemporary Strategy, Volume I, 2nd edn (New York: Holmes and
Meier, 1987).
3. Stephen Walt, 'The Renaissance of Security Studies" International
Studies Quarterly, 35, 2 (June 1991).
4. On this Prussian general and bis influence on contemporary strategie
thinking, see Raymond Aron, Penser la guerre: Clausewitz (Paris:
Gallimard, 1976), 2 vols; Michael Howard, Clausewitz (Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 1983); Peter Paret, 'Clausewitz', in Peter Paret (ed.), Makers 0/
Modern Strategy (princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1987); and
Paret, Clausewitz and the State (princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 1985).
5. William Olson, The Theory and Praetiee 0/ International Relations, 8th
edn (Englewood ClifTs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1991) pp. 217-24.
6. Richard Ullman, 'Redefining Security', International Seeurity, 8, 1
(Summer 1983).
xxii Introduction
7. Ullman, 'Redefining Security'.

8. Jessica Mathews, 'Redefining Security', Foreign Affairs, 68, 2 (Spring
1989).
9. Mathews, 'Redefining Security'.
10. Walt, 'Tbe Renaissance of Security Studies'. For some works that do
emphasize issues of Third-World security, see Mohammcd Ayoob, 'The
Security Problematie of the Third World', World Polities, 43, 2 (January
1991); Yezid Sayigh, Confronting the 199Os: Security in the Developing
Countries, Adelpbi Paper 251 (London: International Institute of Strate-
gie Studies, 1990); Edward Azar and Chung-In Moon, (cds), National
Security in the Third World (Aldershot: Edward Elgar, 1988); Nicole Ball,
Security and Eeonomy in the Third World (Princcton, NJ: Princcton
University Press, 1988); Caroline Thomas, In Seareh 0/ Security: The
Third World in International Relations (Boulder, Col.: Lynne Rienner,
1987); Abdel-Monem Al-Mashat, National Security in the Third World
(Boulder: Westview Press, 1985); Bahgat Korany, 'Vers une rcdefinition
des etudes strategiques', in Charles-Pbilippe David et al., Les Etudes
strategiques: Approehes et Coneepts (paris and Quebec: Fondation pour
les Etudes de Defense Nationale et Centre Quebecois de Relations
Internationales, 1989); and Bahgat Korany, 'Strategie Studies and the
Third World: A Critical Evaluation', International Social Seienee Journal,
110 (December 1986).
11. In addition to the somees mentioncd in ehapter I, see Su-Hoon Lee,
State-Building in the Contemporary Third World (Boulder, CoI. and
Seoul: Westview Press and Kyungnam University Press, 1988).
12. For an inventory and for evaluation of Middle Eastern studies at
different periods in time, see, for instance: Arab Culture and Society in
Change, by the Center for the Study of the Modem Arab World, St
Joseph's University, Beirut (Dar EI-Mashreq Publishers, 1973);
G. Fener, Le Moyen-Orient eontemporain (paris: Presses de la fondation
nationale de science politique, 1975); Leol)ard Binder (cd.), The Study 0/
the Midd1e &st (New York: John Wiley, 1976); Ann G. Drabeck, The
Polities 0/ A/rican and Middle &stem States (Oxford: Pergamon Press,
1976); Mille et un livres sur le monde arabe: eatalogue d'ouvrages edites en
Franee (paris: Maison des sciences de l'homme, 1984); Tareq Ismaei
(cd.), Midd1e East Studies (New York: Praeger, 1989); Hisham Sharabi
(cd.), Theory, Polities, and the Arab World (New York: Routlcdge,
1990); Earl L. Sullivan and Jacqueline S. Ismael (cds), The Contempor-
ary Study 0/ the Arab World (Edmonton: Alberta University Press,
1991).
13. Lisa Anderson, 'Policy-Making and Theory-Building: American Political
Science and the Islamie Middle East', and Judith Tucker, 'Taming the
West: Trends in the Writing of Modern Arab Soeial History in
Anglophone Academia', both in Sharabi (cd.), Theory, Polities, and the
Arab World; see also Rex Brynen, 'Tbe State ofthe Art in Middle Eastern
Studies: A Research Note on Inquiry and the American Empire', Arab
Studies Quarterly, 8, 4 (Autumn 1986).
14. Tbc basie eritical reference in this connection is still Edward Said. See bis
Orientalism (New York: Pantheon Books, 1978), and 'Orientalism
Introduction xxiii
Reconsidered' in Sullivan and Ismael (eds.), The Contemporary Study

0/ the Arab World.
15. For examples of this epistemological problem in some areas of the social
sciences, see the chapters by Halim Barakat, Samih Farsoun and Lisa
Hajjar, and Peter Gran in Sharabi (ed.), Theory, Politics, and the Arab
World; and also the chapters by Mark Kennedy, Janet Abu Lughod,
Nadia Farah, and Cynthia Nelson in Sullivan and Ismael (eds.), The
Contemporary Study 0/ the Arab World.
16. Farsoun and Hajjar, 'Tbe Contemporary Sociology of the Middle Bast',
in Sharabi (ed.), Theory, Politics, and the Arab World.
17. Soheir Morsy, Cynthia Nelson, Reem Saad and Hania Shalkamy,
'Anthropology and the Call for Indigenization of Social Science in the
Arab World', and Babgat Korany, 'Biased Science or Dismal Art? A
Critical Evaluation of the State of the Art of Arab Foreign Policies'
Analysis', in Sullivan and Ismael (eds.), The Contemporary Study 0/ the
Arab World.
18. Michael Kidron and Dan Smith, The New State 0/ War and Peace (New
York: Simon & Schuster, 1991) pp. 12-15.
19. Terence Ball, James Farr and Russei Hanson (eds.), Political Innovation
and Conceptual Change (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989),
pp. 1-6. .
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Map of the Arab World

INDIA
ARABIANSEA
1 The Analysis of National
Security in the Arab
Context: Restating the
State of the Art
Bahgat Korany, Rex Brynen and Paul Noble
INTRODUenON
Tbe Middle East has long been an area of conflict, to the extent that its
name now typically evokes thoughts of Arab-Israeli wars, coups
d'etat, ethnic conflicts, militant Islam, 'terrorism', and so forth. To
avoid such conflict when studying the region would be to risk
becoming irrelevant: aversion to a phenomenon should not, of
course, preclude studying it thoroughly and rigorously in an attempt
to cope effectively with it.
Tbe crucial question, then, is not whether but how we are to analyse
tbis prevalent conflict. Consequently, the chapter aims to integrate two
areas of research - strategie or security studies and Middle Bastern
Studies - into the general debate now taking place within the social
sciences. Tbus the discussion starts with a sampIe survey of the
definition of the concept of national security as it emanates from its
basic paradigm of geopolitics and the power school of international
relations. According to this paradigm, threats to national security are
military and/or external, and the focus is usually the study of inter-
state war. Tbis paradigm is found to be simplistic. Consequently, and
rather than adopting an easy position of tabula rasa, the chapter
focuses on the same principal concept of national security but attempts
a widening and a reformulation of it. To balance the established
paradigm's state-centeredness - yet a state-centeredness which surpris-
ingly black-boxes state dynamies - we take as our starting-point these
very dynamics and state-society relations. These dynamics and
relations are a function of the specific patterns of Arab state-
formation and consequently give rise to a characteristic conflict
phenomenon: protracted social conflict. This speciflC conflict phenom-
2 National Security in the Arab Context
enon is essentially multidimensional in cause and effect, where inter-

and intra-state processes are hopelessly inextricable.
Rather than following the tradition and focusing on the over-
analysed inter-state wars per se, this chapter draws attention to some
of the neglected but important threats to national security, the hidden
part of the iceberg: post-colonial state properties. Two characteristics
and their organic interactions are analysed: the state's internal
fragility, and its external vulnerability. As a result of the prevalence
of these two properties - and especially their interconnectedness -
problems such as ethnic conflicts, erosion of state legitimacy, a state's
'developmental' deficit, food shortages, decline of water resources,
debt (problems usually considered by the established paradigm to be
'low politics') are found to be equally formidable threats to the state's
survival and its basic values, that is, to its national security. For
instance, the analysis shows that conflict over water resources has been
intensifying and might very weil be a major cause of future regional
wars. It also shows how international debt problems can nullify state
sovereignty and also pave the way for an effective take-over of the
country.
THE CONVENTIONAL DEFINITION
Ever since the institutionalization of the inter-state system with the

peace ofWestphalia (1648), national sovereignty has been the focus of
international politics. A state's security dilemma is thus the presence of
other 'sovereign' states, and the state's primary task is to assure its
own survival. This survival may be guaranteed by developing the
capabilities to defend its territory against external and military
attack. As Walter Lippman put it in 1943,
Anation is secure to the extent to which it is not in danger of having

to sacrifice core values, if it wishes to avoid war, and is able, if
challenged, to maintain them by such victory in such a war. l
Arnold Wolfers finds Lippman's definition a reflection of the general

consensus in the literature since it states
that security rises and falls with the ability of the nation to deter an
attack or to defeat it. This is in accord with the common usage of the
term. 2
Bahgat Korany, Rex Brynen and Paul Noble 3
Contemporary classics in the field of strategie studies faithfully

follow this tradition. In Makers of Modern Strategy from Machiavelli
to the Nuclear Age, Peter Paret states from the outset the object of
modem strategy as
ideas of soldiers and civilians since the Renaissance on the most

efTective application of their society's military resources: how can
the fighting power available, or potentially available, be used to best
purpose?3
Tbe revised version of another contemporary classic, Contemporary

Strategy, elaborates on the discussion but finally comes to the same
conclusion. John Gamett quotes approvingly Kenneth Booth's de-
scription of strategy as a 'deadly business' and continues:
It is concemed with the darker side of human nature, in that it

examines the way in which military power is used by govemments in
the pursuit of their interests. Now because military power refers to
the capacity to kill, to maim, to coerce, and to destroy, it follows
that it is a crude instrument. Its use determines not who is right in
any dispute, but whose will is going to prevail, and its utility arises,
fundamentally, out of the depressing fact that human beings, their
property and the society in which they live are easily destroyed. It is
this fragility of human beings and their artifacts that is exploited by
those who wield military power. 4
It is important to mention that this textbook admonishes against a

narrow definition of strategy, that of the man in the street.
For the man in the street, strategy is intimately connected with

planning wars and fighting them. It is a military activity par
excellence in which high-ranking officers plan the overall conduct
of wars. This popular impression is reinforced by Clausewitz's
definition of strategy as 'the employment of battle as the means
towards the attainment of the object of war'.s
Tbe man in the street, though grasping the essentials of strategy and
the defence of national security, has it wrong in one important aspect,
according to Gamett. Such adefinition should be widened to liberate
strategy and national security studies from its straitjacket confines of
4 National Security in the Arab COlltext
the eonduet of war and military campaigns. Rather, this field is

'fundamentally ... about the ways in whieh military power may be
used to achieve political objectives,.6 Tbe proposed 'widening' of the
concepts of strategy and national security would go beyond war, given
the prevalent nuclear context, to integrate the different aspects of
deterrence. And Garnett approvingly quotes Uddell Hart to the effect
that
old concepts and old definitions of strategy have become not only
obsolete but nonsensical with the development of nuelear weapons.
To aim at winning a war, to take victory as your object is no more
than astate of lunacy.7
This so-called widening of the basie concept is essentially great-

power-centrie, related as it is mainly to nuelear powers, and thus of not
mueh impaet, except indirectly, on the countries that interest us here.
Moreover, it is an extremely limited widening, for by basing the
conceptualization of strategy and national seeurity on the use of
military power, it is more a cosmetie ehange (at least for the non-
nuelear countries) than a real restruet~g of the field. Basically, it
does not escape the military straitjacket.
Tbis military straitjaeket is also donned by analysts of the Middle
Bast. In a review of'Strategie Studies and the Middle Bast', P. Edward
Haley shows awareness of some existing criticism of the militaristie
definition of strategie and national security studies:
It has long been fashionable in developing countries to eondemn

strategie studies. Arab scholars and analysts in partieular speak and
write of strategie studies as manipulative, biased toward the West
and intellectually ineomplete. Tbe momentous recent ehanges in
Central Europe and the Soviet Union also pose a ehallenge to
strategie studies, although for different reasons. In a time of
perestroika and free elections in Czeehoslovakia and Hungary,
many in Europe, the United States, and Asia inereasingly regard
the use of military force as irrelevant, as having been supplanted by
international trade and investment. 8
But Haley shunts this criticism aside and, prefacing bis analysis with a
long quotation from Oausewitz, he bases bis survey of the literature
on the standard definition of strategie and national security studies. It
is worth quoting him in detail:
The research assistants who aided me in the preparation of this

paper were instrueted to follow Basil LiddelI Hart's definition of
strategy in determining whether to inelude an article in their lists.
LiddelI Hart defined strategy as 'the art of distributing and applying
military means to fulfill the ends of poliey'. The researehers were
also asked to count studies about grand strategy, or the coordina-
tion and direction of 'all the resources of a nation, or band of
nations, towards the attainment of the political object of the war -
the goal defmed by fundamental poliey'.9
And Haley instruets his aides to be 'wide' in scope:
The assistants were warned that the destruetion of the enemy's armed
forces is not the sole or even primary aim of strategy. The responsi-
bility ofthe strategist is 'to seek a strategie situation so advantageous
that if it does not of itself produce the decision, its continuation by
battle is sure to aehieve this.' As LiddelI Hart put it 'the perfection of
strategy would be to produce a decision without any serious fighting.'
Consequently, a wide body of writing and study should be eounted,
whieh at first glance would appear to be only indirectly related to
strategie afTairs. An artiele on the Camp David Accords [between
Egypt, Israel and the USA, 1978) should be eounted, for example, if it
sheds light on the military, politieal and economie ehoices of the
eombattants and their allies during the 1973 war. IO
But no widening to include non-military aspects is envisaged. And

Haley thus eontinues
Some examinations of foreign poliey issues ought not to be eounted.

Nations are not constantly at war, even in the Middle Bast. Their
international behaviour and, in partieular, expert analysis of their
behaviour cannot be related easily to the ends of strategy and grand
strategyY
This limited sampling of the literature shows a surprising consensus.

For both elassicists and eontemporaries, generalists and regionalists,
national security is the defence against military or externat threats,
perceived or real, potential or immediate. If there is a theory of
'national seeurity', it is geopolitieal in orientation and its main
philosophical assumptions are those of the realist school of power
polities. Let us detail these two points.
Geopolitics as the theory of national security
Geopolities constituted the most prominent of the early approaehes to

national security. This school of thought is perhaps best represented in
the work of Alfred Mahan (1840-1914) and Sir Harold Mackinder
(1861-1947) who associated either the seas or the heartland with a
state's national power. 12 Tbe basis of the geopolitieal approaeh 13 can
be synthesized into three elements:
1. Geographie features eonstitute 'immutable faetors' at the basis of a

state's power and status in the international system.
2. But changing faetors could still be a funetion of geography. Tbus
composition and density of population, immigration flows, en-
dowment or poverty in mineral and natural resources (espeeially
strategie ones such as petrol or uranium) influence a eountry's
strategie position and power in the international arena.
3. Consequently, the world with its divisions, similarities and differ-
enees is the sum total of these geopolitieal determinants. As a
result, geopolities - according to its advoeates - helps us to
understand this 'world' not only as it is, but also as it evolves.
In the most recent Atlas Strategique, for example, Gerard Chaliand

and Jean-Pierre Rageau emphasize how 'la geopolitique' determines
power relations at the world level. 14 Mueh the same eould also be said
of Ray Cline's work on global power distribution. 15
Though still relevant, geopolities would have been more useful if
limited to being one variable in an explanatory scheme, rather than
posturing as the overriding determinant of both the past and future
worlds. But in addition to this reduetionist tendeney, it has to
overeome another disadvantage: that of being rather statie and
lagging behind the growing ehanges in the world, both teehnological
and politieal. Moreover, geopolities is handicapped because its pre-
mises are entrenehed in a philosophieal vision, a paradigm that itself
emphasizes continuity in history from antiquity to the eontemporary
world: the power, or realist, school of international relations.
National security as the struggle for the maintenance and accumulation

ofpower
In its eontemporary form, the 'realist' definition of national security

was initially a counter-paradigm in the inter-war period. It purported
Bahgat Korany. Rex Brynen and Paul Noble 7
to refute what it considered utopianism and Wilsonian idealism, which

emphasized the inherent goodness of human nature and the possible
elimination of war (for example, the 1928 Kellogg-Briand Pact). The
massive human massacre that was the Second World War seemed to
rehabilitate and give renewed credence to 'realist' philosophical
premises and conceptual components. 16
It is important to emphasize that the paradigm is presented as
universal, valid over time and space. Indeed, its proponents insist on
taking their roots back to the ancient Greece of Thucydides through
Niccolö Machiavelli (1469-1527) and Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679)
and up to Kissinger. 17 The Prince's four chapters (XV-XVIII), which
include the quintessence of Machiavellianism, are based on the
concepts of power and realpolitik. It is not a coincidence that the
opening chapter of Paret's new c1assic is on Machiavelli as a
contributor to the renaissance of the art of war. 18 It is equally to
Hobbes' Leviathan that contemporary realists go for inspiration,
emphasizing 'the state of nature' and 'the war of all against all'I9 in
characterizing the international arena as a sphere of 'anarchy'.
According to Hobbes, the social pact - by virtue of which each
member of the republic has given up apart of his freedom in favour
of a central authority - created a 'state of society' within the republic.
But such a pact does not exist between the republics. Consequently,
these inter-republic relations - contrary to intra-republic ones - are
dominated by anarchy.20
Raymond Aron - probably still the most influential theoretician of
international relations in the French-speaking world - reiterates
Hobbes almost verbatim. Aron starts his magnum opus on the theory
of international relations by observing that as long as humanity is not
uni ted in the form of a universal state, there will be an essential
difference between internal and international politics. In internal
politics (for example, within the republic) the monopoly of the use
of force will be in the hands of one legitimate authority, whereas at the
international level (for example, between the republics) no such
monopoly or legitimate authority exists. On the contrary, this latter
level is characterized by the plurality of its centres of military power.
And Aron adds that in this sense inter-state relations are still in 'a state
of nature'.2 1 In an oft-cited article that raises the crucial question
about what is specific to justify a theory of international relations as
distinct from political theory, Aron answers that it is the existence of
the state of nature at the international level and the legality of the
resort to force by the different centers of power - the various states. 22
In addition to being arepetition of old and well-respected philoso-

phica1 premises, realism is a coherent system of observations about
human nature, international politics and political behaviour. There
have been two main strands in realist thought regarding the sources of
international behaviour. The first, or 'metaphysical', strand of realism
bases its analysis on certain features allegedly inherent in human
nature. According to this view, humanity is both wicked and sinful;
among its 'sins' the most prominent is adesire for power and
domination. The second, and most prevalent, strand is what might
be termed 'pragmatic' realism. This traces the conflictual features of
the international arena to situational factors, specifically the condi-
tions of anarchy (the absence of any common authority/power over
and above the competing actors) and the pressures that this gener-
ates?3 Whatever the source of the problem, the result is persistent
conflict, insecurity, and an ensuing struggle for power in the interna-
tional arena. 24 This is why the most important objective of each state is
to look after its own national interest, defined primarily in terms of
national security (and national power). Consequently, each state has to
increase its (military) capabilities to deter any potential aggressor. In
other words: if you want peace, prepare for war - even at the cost of a
continuous arms race. In equally concrete political terms, realism
advises alliances as potentially good means of deterring aggression -
but admonishes the state to be 'realistic' about its allies, who will aim
to promote their own interests and plans. This is why realism has
presented itself as an amoral theory of international politics: to achieve
international stability, astate cannot trust international organizations
or internationallaw but must rely primarilyon its own power and an
effective balance of power.
The realists' conceptual system has thus managed to integrate the
problematique of national security into a coherent description of both
the wider international arena and of the human actors running it. This
synthetic view is expressed in c1ear language and a literary style -
which helped it to be absorbed by the public as well as specialists.
Moreover, by emphasizing the most conspicuous and newsworthy
aspects of international relations - the question of power and war,
or so-called 'high' politics - it acquired the air of a proven truth. To
both statesmen and the public it appealed as an epitome of what is
most important and relevant to know about the intricacies of the
'outside' world. Realists profited from historical analysis by using 'the
lessons of his tory' , but they exceeded historians in so far as they
offered a coherent conceptual framework for intellectual analysis, and
practice, indeed both a theory of the international system and a

programme for action. No wonder, then, that Hans Morgenthau's
Polities Among Nations (Ist edition 1948) is still ci ted as the most
popular textbook on international politics. 2S
Despite its popularity, tbis conceptual system is incomplete and even
misleading. It is misleading because its seductive simplicity - with the
convenient slogan of international anarchy - has lulled observers into
a partial understanding of world complexities, thereby distracting
researchers from a multi-dimensional approach to the international
system. Part of its problem sterns from its state-centredness (that is,
states are the only international actors that count). Is Yemen or
Somalia - we might ask - really more important than Shell, Exxon,
or General Motors? A multicentric or transnational view of the
international system thus provides a more comprehensive explanatory
framework for the study of international relations.
Equally important are the differences between the two frameworks
as regards both the structure and processes of world politicS. 26 For
instance, whereas in the state-centric world the principal goals of
actors are the preservation of territorial integrity and physical
security, in the multi-centric one, the objective could be non-military
such as an increase in world market shares, or maintenance and
integration of social systems. Whereas the normative priorities of the
first are the preservation of formal sovereignty, the latter might
emphasize such 'societal' aspects as human rights, justice, and
reduction of developmental gaps. In this case, cooperation - as a
world characteristic - is as important as conflict, and the use of armed
force could be replaced by the withholding of cooperation.27 Even in
conflictual situations, in several cases the use of military force - so dear
to the established paradigm of national security - is not even thought
of as a means of settling the issue, as the interdependence model of the
international system pleaded a decade and a half ago. 28
Leaving aside certain questionable philosophical assumptions,
realism is characterized by two empirical deficiencies relevant to our
specific concerns. First, its conception of international relations - as
Raymond Aron underscored - is based on aseparation rather than a
distinction between internal and international politics, between 'order'
and 'disorder' . But we must ask, what kind of order do we really have
in Lebanon, Somalia or the Sudan? Second, international politics is
traditionally the realm of 'high' politics, of the use of force to defend
national security, whereas internal politics - where national security is
not threatened - is the realm of 'low' politics. But in cases of 'internal'
ethnic conflict or famine so great that it threatens the state's survival,

does not low politics really become high politics?
The problem with geopolitics and realism is that both have 'black-
boxed' the state, particularly its internal dynamics and the pattern of
state-society relations. It is indeed peculiar that the realist paradigm,
characterized by its state-centeredness, has neglected to dweIl on the
basic properties of its raison d'etre: the state as principal international
actor. 29 As a result, the paradigm has simply transferred the specific
pattern of the European state to the status of a universal model. But
Arab states - as part of the Tbird World - are different.
This is why our approach is different. We do not intend to deny the
relevance of the realist paradigm for an understanding of the security
problems of Arab states. The Middle East, after all, is a highly
conflictual inter-state arena. Rather, our aim is to broaden the basic
concept of national security to take into account the full range of
threats to the basic interests/values of Arab states and societies. Instead
of discarding the established paradigm, we attempt to build on what is
valid in it while balancing its skewedness and one-dimensionality. In
emphasizing the multidimensionality of the security concerns of
peripheral states in the last decade of the twentieth century, our
starting point is the characteristics of the Arab state,30 its internal
dynamics and vulnerabilities.
STATE SPECIFICITIES AND THEIR IMPACT ON NATIONAL

SECURITY THREATS
In the context of this book, we are not interested in the Arab state
per se,31 but in how its specific characteristics create non-traditional
threats to its national security (for example, proteetion of its basic
values). In fact, once we open the state black box and investigate its
historical characteristics as weIl as the pattern of relations with its
society, we find the prevalence of a special type of conflict different
from the pure inter-state conflict at the basis of strategie studies and
classical national security formulations. Tbis type of conflict has been
dubbed protracted social conflict. 32 It is essentially multi-dimensional,
for religion, language and identity, in addition to socio-economic
aspects may all play a role in it. It is inherent in the socio-historic
(that is, structural) context of the post-colonial state in the interna-
tional periphery with its rising expectations (or rather rising frustra-
tions). Tbe internal, religious, cultural and socio-economic aspects
become inextricable from inter-state conflicts. A view from 'inside

the Middle Bast' alludes to this multi-dimensionality:
Life in all its aspects is still in an upheaval that transcends military

insecurity and spills over into the social, political, intellectual,
ideological and economic fields. Regime, even national, insecurity
is not always viewed as a function of external forces, military or
otherwise. Internally, regime and national insecurity often emanate,
not from the military branch, but from the demands for change, for
participation and political liberalization in mostly authoritarian
regimes as well as from the demands for development leading to a
general uplifting of the standard of living. 33
However, not only are the sources of conflict inextricable, but also
their types. The result is the interconnectedness and overlapping -
rather than the separation - between internal and international
politics. Consequently, we are not only witness to the internationaliza-
tion of civil wars (for example, Lebanon, the Sudan, Iraq and the
Kurds) but also to the internationalization of domestic events (for
example, Iran's Islamic Revolution as a pole of attraction to Shi'ites
and Muslims generally).
These specific properties of the conflict phenomenon are a function
of tbe specificities of tbe Arab - and Tbird World - state witb its two
main cbaracteristics for national security analyses: internal fragility
and external vulnerability.
Internal fragility
Despite the financial wealth of some Arab countries (principally tbe

oil-producing Gulf countries), the Arab world generally shares with
the rest of the Third W orld some common structural characteristics.
Primary among them is internal fragility due to the historical pattern
of their state-formation.
Whereas the West European states (the so-called international core)
have had as much as four centuries to evolve, structure their
'representative' institutions and develop their services,34 in the periph-
ery this process has been telescoped into four decades or less in the
majority of Arab and other Third-World countries. 3S Moreover, such
historical telescoping has also been influenced by the 'outside'.
Whatever our views on the recent Gulf War, one basic contention
that requires thorough reflection concerns Kuwait's 'stateness'. Is it a
'natural', well-entrenched phenomenon or only the result of a legal

fiction imposed from the outside? Some have gone even further and
raised the same question about Iraq itself. No indicator is clearer in
this respect than the artificiality of the boundaries and the prolifera-
tion of border conflicts (Syria/Turkey, YemenjSaudi Arabia, and at
least nine potential ones among other Gulf countries, not to mention
the MoroccanjAlgerian dispute that caused an intense war in 1963).
But the problem of Third-World states' internal fragility goes deeper
than problems of border demarcation and is related to the imposition
of an (alien) state structure on a (forged) nation. The result is the
impression of astate at war with its own society (the chronic problem
of political instability), and also that society at war with itself (the
praetorian society, as we will see later). In addition, the context of
underdevelopment and the gap between societal demands and state
capacity to cope with them creates a situation of a quasi-permanent
internal war. Moreover, this internal war has bases that are multi-
dimensional and inextricable: ethnic, religious, and socio-political at
the same time. This conflictual situation does not seem to be reaching
its denouement.
When we consider the ethnic dimension, for instance, we realize
that earlier studies36 assumed that ethnicity could be a temporary
aspect of 'primordial' sentiments that would weaken or even wither
away with the pace of modernization. But the persistence of ethnic
conflicts even in some European states such as Belgium, Spain, and
now Eastem Europe, must put in doubt the assumptions of this
'melting-pot modernization' school. On the contrary, modernization
may heighten ethnic conflict by encouraging mobility, and hence
awareness of difTerences among various communities put in closer
contact. Modernization also helps mobilization and organization
along ethnic lines, and thus becomes a conflictual rather than an
assimilationist process. 37
Compared to 'core' European countries, 'periphery' ones have
neither the resources nor the learning experience to cope with this
conflict. The result is a proliferation of conflict processes to other
social areas and their extreme politicization as well as the aggravation
of the state's deficits both in legitimacy and in development. A further
word of explanation of these facets of internal fragility may drive the
main point home.
The praetorian society. This society is essentially a society 'out of

joint' because of the gap between the relatively high levels of
participation and the low level of institutlonalization to channel

popular demands in an orderly way. As a result,
social forces confront each other nakedly, no political institutions,

no corps of professional politicalleaders are recognized or accepted
as the legitimate intermediaries to moderate group conflict. Equally
important, no agreement exists among the groups as to the
legitimate and authoritative methods for resolving conflicts. 38
What happens, then, is the prevalence of self-help as a mental-set

among the different groups in a context of zero-sum relationship where
the gain of one group is perceived as the loss of the other. In Samuel
Huntington's classic formula, 'The wealthy bribe; students riot; workers
strike; mobs demonstrate and the military COUp,.39
National identity issues. One result of the rise of cultural/religious

demands and their mobilizing capacity through catchwords such as
retribalization, re-Islamization or retraditionalization is simply to
bring down the state. The notable recent example is, of course,
Ayatollah Khomeini's Iran, which in the late 1970s engineered a mass
revolution that brought down the Pahlavi dynasty in a matter of
weeks. This is why the
survival of cultural traditions in a rapid process of modernization

and the manner in which the masses are mobilized differ from
revolutionary processes with a purely social or economic back-
ground. Western-style economic rationality, the cultural foundation
of the Western course of development and Western civilization, are
all rejected. Instead, the aim is to revitalize the native culture and to
adapt it to the needs of the modem state. This conflict of cultures is
expressed within a country itself in the confrontation between native
chauvinism on the one hand and Westernized elites on the other.40
Thus the superimposing of the 'made-in-Europe' model of the

nation-state resulted in a contradiction between national pretensions
and historical structures. Moreover, one should also emphasize the
establishment of 'states' not only bigger than they should be, but also
smaller than they should be.
What this means in practice in the Middle East, to take one example,
is that the division of the community of Moslems and Arabs into
numerous nation states since World War I has not only to a large
extent ignored the traditional ethnic and religious groupings but has
also resulted in the governments of the various national entities
starting to lodge claims which are almost bound to lead to conflict
with other countries.41
This is why the 'contagion effect' of the Iranian revolution, for

example, frightened many state authorities and their supporters inside
and outside Dar al-Islam (the abode of Islam). But the international
dimension of such mass cultural manifestations can be more immediate
and direct, as when a country takes measures, or is pressured, to reject
an external influence and power. The 401-day crisis, (1979-81) of US
hostages in Teheran, with the abortive US military mission to save
them and the ensuing debate on the validity of 'internationallaw' and
the 'proper rules' of diplomatic practice, just go to show how
'domestic' demands for cultural authenticity are internationalized in
an imposing way.
Indeed, an influential school in social science research focuses only
on intra-state conflict,42 not only because it is the everyday political
'order', but also because it can give rise to, or be exploited by, inter-
state confrontation.43 The conflict is thus externalized. Indeed, the
greater the threats to security that originate domestically, the greater
are the external threats faced by the country. And in this respect the
military means favoured by the established paradigm in strategic
studies cannot be a panacea for 'national security', since the sources
of insecurity are political, economic and socia!. The majority of
conflicts are primarily protracted social conflicts, and the internal
and external are organically inextricable. As Mohammed Ayoob put
it in the South Asian context:
Any perceptive observer of the South Asian scene in 197~1971

would have realized that the Indian 'threat' to Pakistan was very
secondary to that posed by East Bengali nationalists; also that the
Indo-Pakistani war of 1971 would either not have been fought, or, if
fought, would have had a very different outcome if the bulk of the
East Bengali population had not been disenchanted with the existing
structure of the Pakistani state.44
In this respect, one is reminded that many of the principal reasons

for the Iran-Iraq war went beyond border-demarcation. Iraq's fear
was for its survival as a unified state since Iran's Islamic revolution
was encouraging Iraq's Shi'a majority to revolt and toppie the Sunni-
dominated state elite. In other words, the prevalent patterns of Third-
World conflicts could be intra-state before being exploited in inter-
state relations. Such conflicts centre on racial heterogeneity, religious
animosities, linguistic diversity, tribai divisions, regional differences
and other societal factors.
These elements of tension are aggravated by the material hardships
of daily life. But here again, the lack of services, unemployment or
chronie shortages are not just a passing situation, but seem to be
structural. The result is the developmental deficit.
The developmental deficit. All countries of the Third World have as

immediate necessities to meet: an increase in per capita income,
provision for a fairer distribution of income and wealth, and the
caring for such basic human needs as education, health and food. The
problem is that generating a 'balanced' economic growth is a long-
term process, whereas the people, at least in the non-Gulf countries,
feel that they have waited too long. The result is the well-known
widening gap between mass demands and the capacity of the political
system to cope with them. A traffic control tower faced with too
many messages from aircraft during a certain interval of time cannot
cope, given the prevailing structure and operating rules. As a result,
the traffic system breaks down. By analogy, in Arab and, more
generally, Third-World society, the gap between soc::ial expectations
and social satisfactions will result in social frustration.
A notable example of this deficit is the issue of food shortage. A
survey of Arab specialized periodicals and even official documents
indicates that there exists a fear of 'food insecurity' equal to that of a
regional war, except that food shortage is more immediate and daily in
its impact. At the basis of this threat-perception is the 'increasing
Arab food gap' - especially in some basic commodities such as wheat.
This gap leads to more imports and increased dependence on, and
vulnerability to, outside sources. Thus Arab food self-sufficiency had
gone down by the 1980s to 67 per cent. For some foodstuffs, it is even
lower: 57 per cent for grains, 55 per cent for white meat, 51 per cent
for oil, 49 per cent for fat, 39 per cent for wheat and 34 per cent for
sugar. And this at a time when the majority of the Arab population
may now be said to be under-fed compared to world standards.4S
Consequently, the state's margin of manoeuvre is indeed limited, and
the feeling of national wlnerability and insecurity is increased when
we remember that during the 1973 oil embargo, influential voices in
the West raised the possibility of a 'food embargo' to punish the Arab
countries.
Even without going to the extreme warring situation of areal
mutual embargo, the food shortage is now coupled with a potential
water shortage: 46
As early as the mid-1980s, the US intelligence community estimated

that among 10 places in the world where war could break out over
dwindling shared water resources, the majority were in the Middle
East. Egypt, Jordan, Israel and Syria are sliding into the perilous
zone where all available fresh surface and ground-water supplies will
soon be fully utilized ... Meanwhile, a decade of drought in East
Africa has depleted Egypt's lifeline, the Nile, which provides 86
percent ofthe country's water. Although regional supplies are falling
Egypt's water needs are increasing at an alarming ratio, paralleling
the country's population growth, projected to rise to 75 million by
the year 2000 from its present estimated 54 million. The last nation
along the path of the Nile, Egypt has little control over the action of
eight upstream governments. Boutros Ghali [then Vice-Premier for
External Relations] maintains that the 'national security of Egypt
is ... a question of water,.47
In July 1990, Jordan's King Hussein declared that the only issue that
could push him to war against Israel was water. Israel, in turn, has
refused to consent to a World Bank proposal to finance the Wahda
(Unity) Dam on the Upper Yarmuk River unless it is assured of 'a fair
share' of the water. Indeed,
one of Israel's major strategie concerns in any resolution of the

Palestinian conflict lies with its worrles about control of the Yarkonj
Taninim (Crocodile Spring) aquifer, which lies beneath both pre-
1967 ('Green Line') Israeli territory and the West Bank ... The West
Bank portion of the aquifer supplies up to 40 percent of Israel's
waters, a situation which has angered West Bank Palestinians.
Looming over this issue is the harsh prediction for the future:
Israel, the West Bank, Gaza and Jordan face a combined water
deficit of anywhere from 300 million cubic meters per year to double
that amount. This must be met, at a cost the parties can afTord,
either through technological innovation such as building new
desalination plants or importing water. 48
Turkey, which controls the headwaters of the Tigris and Euphrates

rivers, is now using some of this ample water to irrigate dry south-
eastern Anatolia (40 per cent of its arable land). However, its complex
of irrigation and hydroelectric sites - including the massive Ataturk
Dam - has stirred the anxiety of its two downstream co-riparians,
Syria and Iraq. Tbey are increasingly afraid that water being diverted
for the dam will endanger their supplies for industrial and agricultural
projects, and that they will become Turkey's 'hydrological depen-
dents,.49 When we consider that this predominantly desert region's
yearly population growth is about 3 per cent we understand why the
struggle over water resources could weIl be a major issue in the next
regional war in the Middle East.
Extemal vulnerability
It is a moot point whether we consider these water resources an

internal or an external issue. This ambiguity defeats the logic of
territorial frontiers and the largely formalistic aspect of state sover-
eignty. But one thing is absolutely certain, that to develop large water
projects the countries of the region will have to count on external
sources (for technology and funding), as they are doing at present to
attenuate their food shortages. Tbis aggravates the agonizing problem
of international debt.
It might seem contradictory to talk about a problem of debt for the
Arab countries (see the Appendix for data) when some of them (for
example, the United Arab Emirates) had in the early 1980s the highest
levels of per capita income in the world. But then the decline of oil
prices by the mid-1980s quickly worsened the balance-of-payments
situation for many of these countries. There is the special case of Iraq,
which had to finance its increasingly COStlY war with Iran and whose
debt by the end of the 1980s had reached over US$60 billions. The
1990--91 Gulf crisis has aggravated the situation terribly, not only for
Iraq, but also for most countries involved.
Tbe present situation of Iraq apart, however, Gulf countries may
still have a certain leverage in dealing with international creditors. But
what solidifies the situation of international subordination is the case
of what we might call chronic debtors - those countries that do not
have enough resources to pay their accumulating debts and continue to
borrow to keep afloat. In these cases international constraints will
continue to be primordial. Two cases stand out in this respect:
Morocco with a debt of about US$21.6 billion, and Egypt, whose
debt the World Bank estimated in 1988 at US$40.3 billion and the
former governor of the country's Central Bank put at above US$50
billion. For both these countries, economic survival could depend on
the level of resources provided internationally.
If the experience of other Third-World countries is any clue, the
problem of international debt and its threat to national security is
worsening. For instance, in the nine-year period 1977-84, IMF figures
show that sub-Saharan African external debt rose from US$18.6
billion to US$88.1 billion, with its ratio to total exports almost
doubling in the span of seven years (from 120 per cent in 1977 to
223 per cent in 1984). so This phenomenon of debt increase is general in
virtually all (non oil-exporting) Third-World countries. Between 1975
and 1981 the rate of debt increase to private banks only was 271 per
cent for the wh oIe group of Third-World countries, with some
relatively Obig' countries seeing their debt increase at an astronomical
rate: Brazil235 per cent, Mexico 309 per cent, Korea 412 per cent, and
Argentina 615 per cent. S ! The result has been simply an incapacity to
pay. Ouring 1980-84 alone, there were fifty-three sub-Saharan African
reschedulings involving sixteen countries - four in 1980, nine in 1981,
six in 1982, fifteen in 1983, and nineteen in 1984, according to the
Agreed Minutes of Debt Reschedulings and IMF estimates. When
forced to 'adjust' or else, these countries often withdraw subsidies on
basic goods, an action that can all too easily lead to the kind of 'bread
riots' seen in North Africa in 1984 because of the soaring consumer
price index. In Latin America, Bolivia is a notorious example: from
1971 to 1984 its consumer price index shot up by 2177, while its GDP
per capita went down by 10.1. 52 The result, we know too weil, is famine
- declared or not. 53 What could be a more basic threat to both state
and society's survival?
In 1988, at least sixteen Third-World countries owed more than 100
per cent of their GNP in external debt. Of these, over a quarter were
members of the Arab League: Somalia (185 per cent), South Yemen
(199 per cent), Mauritania (196 per cent), Egypt (127 per cent) and
Iraq. Another four (Sudan, North Yemen, Jordan, Tunisia) had
mortgaged 50-100 per cent of the total annual economic production
of their entire societies. In about half these countries, loan servicing
had come to exceed annual outlays on military defence. S4
History suggests that such priorities are not misplaced. The biggest
Arab country - Egypt - once lost its independence as a consequence of
debt. In the latter half of the nineteenth century, Khedive Ismael went
borrowing until the government had to sel~ Egypt's shares in the Suez
Canal and the country itself was declared bankrupt. A French minister
and a British one were integrated in the Egyptian cabinet, and indeed
acted like super decision-makers. But such high level and formal take-
over of the country was not enough for the two main colonial powers
of the period. Finally, in 1882, British troops entered Egypt and
occupied the country 'legally' for seventy-four years. If, then, this
context of international debt could not be a threat to national security,
what else could it be?
CONCLUSION
This chapter has been critical of the way the basic concept of national
security has been treated by the established realist paradigm of security
studies with its emphasis on geopolitics and military-external threats.
It has been suggested that this paradigm is both conceptually limited
and empirically deficient. But rather than discarding it, this chapter
has tried to build on what is valid and relevant in the established
paradigm. Overall, this study pursues a two-track approach to
national security in the Arab world - one starting from the nature
of the regional and global arenas and the accompanying problems of
'high politics', the other from the characteristics of the contemporary
Arab state, with its fragility and vulnerabilities and the ensuing
pressures and threats which these generate. In short, it adopts an
interdisciplinary perspective to emphasize the multidimensionality of
the security concerns of Arab states. The contributions that follow
thus help to modernize the established paradigm while dealing with the
nature, scope and impact of various non~traditional security problems.
Hopefully this will promote a fuller understanding of the contempor-
ary dilemmas of security and development, both in the Arab world and
beyond.
Notes
1. Walter Lippman, US Foreign Poliey: Shield of the Republie (Boston:

Little, Brown, 1943) p. 51, as cited in Mohammed Ayoob, 'Security
in the Third World', International Affairs, 60, 1 (Winter 1983-84)
pp. 41-51.
2. Amold Wolfers, Diseord and Collaboration: Essays on International
Polities (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 1962) p. 150.
3. Peter Paret (ed.), Makers 0/ Modern Strategy (princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 1986) pp. 3-4.
20 National Security in the A.rab Context
4. John Garnett, 'Strategie Studies and its Assumptions', in John Baylis

et al., Contemporary Strategy: Theories and Concepts, 2nd edn (New
York and London: Holmes & Meier, 1987) pp. 3-39.
5. Garnett, 'Strategie Studies and its Assumptions' .
6. Garnett, 'Strategie Studies and its Assumptions' .
7. Garnett, 'Strategie Studies and its Assumptions'.
8. P. Edward Haley, 'Strategie Studies and the Middle East: Periodieal
Literature in the Unitcd States 1980-1990', in Earl L. Sullivan and
Jacqucline IsmaeI (eds.), The Contemporary Study 0/ the Arab World
(Edmonton: University of Alberta Press, 1991) pp. 206-20.
9. Haley, 'Strategie Studies and the Middle East'.
12. Philip A. Crowl, 'A1fred Tbayer Mahan: Tbe Naval Historian', in Paret
(cd.), Makers 0/ Motkrn Strategy, pp. 444-7.
13. Roger Epp and David HasIund, 'La geopolitiquc et le realisme', in
Charles David et al., Les Etudes Strateg;ques: Approehes et Coneepts
(Quebec and Paris: c;entre QuebCcois de.s Relations Internationales et
Fondation pour les Etudes de DCfense Nationales, 1989) pp. 105-30;
also Charles David, 'Les paradigmes en Crise', in this same volume,
pp. 69-81.
14. Gerard Chaliand and Jean-Pierre Rageau, Atlas Strategique (Paris:
Fayard, 1988) p. 25.
15. Ray S. Cline, WorM Power Trends and US Foreign Poliey Jor the 1980s
16. Bahgat Korany, 'Une, Deux, ou Quatre ... Les &oles de Relations
Internationales', in Korany, 'La Crise des Relations Internationales:
Vers UD Bilan', a special issue of Etudes Internationales 15,4 (December
1984) pp. 699-723.
17. Michael J. Smith, Realist Thoughtfrom Weber to Kissinger (Baton Rouge,
La.: Louisiana University Press, 1986) pp. 4-22.
18. In Paret (cd.), Makers 0/ Motkm Strategy, pp. 11-31.
19. For a straightforward synthesis of Hobbes' politieal ideas, see Leo
Strauss and Joseph Cropsey (eds), History 0/ Politieal Philosophy
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987) pp. 396-420.
20. Pierre Manent, Histoire intelleetuelle du liberalisme (paris: C. Levy, 1987),
especiallyeh. 2, on 'Hobbes et le nouvel art politiquc', pp. 51-88.
21. Raymond Aron, Paix et Guerre entre les Nations, 2nd edn (paris:
C. Levy, 1984) p. 19. Tbe subtitle of the English translation (Garden
City, NY: Doubleday, 1966) is 'A Tbeory of International Relations'.
22. Raymond Aron, 'Qu'est-ce qu'une theorie des relations internationales?',
Rel1ue Franlaise de Seienee Politique, vol. 17 (1967) pp. 309-18.
23. Kenneth Waltz, Theory 0/ International Polities (Reading, Mass.: Ad-
dison-Wesley, 1979).
24. Hans Morgenthau (edited and revised by. Kenneth Tbompson), Polities
Among Nations: the Struggle /or Power and Peaee, 6th edn (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1985).
25. James Rosenau et al., 'Of Syllabi, Texts, Students and Scholarship in
International Relations', World Polities, 29, 2 (January 1977) pp. 263-
341; John Vasquez, The Power of Power Politics (New Brunswiek, NJ:
Rutgers University Press, 1983).
26. James Rosenau, Turbulence in World Politics: A Theory of Change and
Continuity (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1990).
27. Even realist and high politics analyses are now correcting this skewed
conflictual view of the international system by integrating 'cooperation'
much more basica1ly into their conceptual framework. See, for a very
solid sampIe, the special issue on 'Cooperation Under Anarchy' of World
Politics, 38, 1 (October 1985) pp. 1-146.
28. Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye, Power and Interdependence: World
Politics in Transition (Boston, Mass.: Little, BroWD, 1977).
29. 'Neo-realists' such as Stephen Krasner have realized this limitation and
opened the discussion on the state and its role; see, for instance, his
'Approaehes to the State: Alternative Conceptions and Historieal
Dynamies', Comparative Politics, 16, 2 (January 1984) pp. 22~.
Another reminder emphasizing the 'state variable' is the collection by
Peter Evans, Dietrich Reuschemeyer and Tbeda Skocpol (eds), Bringing
the State Back In (Cambridge University Press, 1985);
30. For some of our attempts to deal with the international bases or
consequences of the specifie pattern of the Arab state, see Rex Brynen,
'Palestine and the Arab State System: Permeability, State Consolidation
and the Intifada', Caruulian Journal of Political Science, 24, 3 (September
1991); and Bahgat Korany, 'A1ien and Besieged Yet Here to Stay: Tbe
Contradictions of the Arab Territorial State', in Ghassan Salame (ed.),
The Foundations ofthe Arab State (London: Croom Helm, 1987) pp. 47-
74. This volume is part of a four-volume study on the different aspects of
the Arab state, all published by Croom Helm. Another important
collective project is that of the Centre for Arab Unity Studies (Beirut)
that produced four volumes (most available at present only in Arabie)
that dea1 with the Egyptian state (by N. Ayoubi); the Fertile Crescent
(by Ghassan Salame); the Gulf countries (by Khaldoun EI-Naquib); and
the Maghreb (by Elbaki Hermassi). A fifth volume, by Saad Ed-Din
Ibrahim - in eollaboration with the above authors - admirably
synthesizes the findings and advances the analysis still further. See The
Future of State and Society in the Arab World [in Arabie] (Amman: Arab
Tbought Forum, 1988).
31. For a useful overview, see Lisa Anderson, 'Tbe State in the Middle Bast
and North Africa', Comparative Politics, 20, I (October 1987) pp. 1-18.
32. Edward Azar, Paul Jureidini and Ron MeLaurin, 'Protracted Confliets in
the Middle Bast', Joumal of Pakstine Studies, 8,1 (Autumn 1978) pp. 41-
69; Edward Azar and Chung in Moon (eds), National Security in the
Third World (Aldershot: Elgar, 1988).
33. Kamel Abu-Jaber, 'Strategie Studies and the Middle Bast: A View from
the Region', in Sullivan and IsmaeI (eds), The Contemporary Study ofthe
Arab World, pp. 221-35. .
34. Tbe basie source in this respect is still Charles Tilly (ed.), The Formation
of National States in Western Europe (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Uni-
versity Press, 1975). But see also: John Keate (ed.), Civil Society and the
State (London: Verso, 1988); Perry Anderson, Lineages of the Absolutist
State (London: Verso, 1979); Martin Carnoy, The State and Politieal
Theory (princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984).
35. For a detailed comparison between the two patterns, see Bernard Badie,
Les Deux Etats: Pouvoir et Soeiete en Oeeident et en terre d'Islam (paris:
Fayard, 1986); John Hall (ed.), States in History (Oxford: Basil Black-
weIl, 1986); All Kazancigil (ed.), The State in Global Perspeetive (London:
Gower, 1986). Concerning more specifically the Arab countries, and in
addition to the sources cited principally in footnotes 30 and 31, see Philip
Khoury and Joseph Kostiner (eds), Tribes and State-Formation in the
Middle Bast (Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 1990);
Gabriel Ben-Dor, State and Conjliet in the Middle East (New York:
Praeger, 1983); Elbaki Hermassi, Leadership and National Development in
North A/riea: A Comparative Study (Berkeley, Calif.: University of
California Press, 1972); John Davis, Libyan Polities: Tribe and
Revolution (London: I. B. Tauris, 1987); Maurice Flory, Bahgat Korany
et al., Regimes politiques arabes (paris: Presses universitaires de France,
1990). For more conceptually-oriented discussions of state-formation,
state--society relations and social theory, see: Myron Weiner and Samuel
Huntington (eds), Understanding Politieal Development (Boston: Little,
BroWD, 1987); and especially Joel S. Migdal, Strong Societies and Weak
States (princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1988).
36. The specific reference here is to Clifford Geertz, 'The Integration
Revolution: Primordial Sentiments and Civil Politics in the New
States', in ClifTord Geertz (ed.), Old Soeieties and New States (New
York: Tbe Free Press, 1963). For contrasting perspectives, see Donald
L. Horowitz, Ethnie Groups in Conjliet (Berkeley, Calif.: University of
California Press, 1985); Joseph Rothschild, Ethnopolities: A Coneeptual
Framework (New York: Columbia University Press, 1981); Anthony
D. Smith, The Ethnie Revival (Cambridge University Press, 1981);
Crawford Young, The Polities 0/ Cultural Pluralism (Madison, Wis.:
University of Wisconsin Press, 1976). In the Middle Bast context, see
Milton Esman and ltamar Rabinovich (eds), Ethnieity, Pluralism and the
State in the Middle East (lthaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1988).
37. Of the above-mentioned sources, Horowitz, Rothschild, Smith, Young,
and Esman and Rabinovich are ofthis view. An early pioneering analysis
in this respect is Walker Connor, 'Nation-Building or Nation-Destroy-
ing', World Polities, 14, 3 (April 1972).
38. Samuel Huntington, Politieal Order in Changing Societies (New Haven,
Conn.: Yale University Press, 1968) pp. 192-264.
39. Huntington, Politieal Order in Changing Soeieties, p. 196.
40. Udo Steinbach, Sourees 0/ Third World Conjliet, Adelphi Papers 166
(London: IISS, Summer 1981) pp. 20-8.
41. Steinbach, Sourees 0/ Third World Conjliet.
42. Ekkart Zimmermann, Political Violenee, Crises and Revolutions (Cam-
bridge, Mass.: Schenkman, 1983).
43. Michael Haas, International Conjliet (Indianapolis, Ind.: Bobbs-Merrill,
1974); Jonathan Wilkenfeld (ed.), Conjliet Behaviour and Linkage Polities
(New York: McKay, 1973).
44. Mohammed Ayoob, 'Security in the Tbird World', pp. 41-51.
45. Fawzi H. Rizk, 'Tbe Importance of Inter-Arab Coordination to Face tbe

Problem of Food Security" a/-Mustaqbal a/-'Arabi 147 (May 1991)
pp. 68-93 (in Arabic).
46. Indicative in this respect is tbe complete file presented by International
Politics (April 1991) (tbe quarterly of tbe well-established a/-Ahram
Center of Political and Strategic Studies in Cairo) entitled, 'Tbe Water
Problem in tbe Middle Bast and Africa'. Tbe nine pieces published
include a detailed analysis of tbe subject by Dr Boutros Ghali, tben
Egypt's Vice-Premier for External AfTairs. See also John Waterbury,
Hydropolitics 0/ the NiJe Va/ley (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University
Press, 1979); Cbristian Giscbler, Water Resources in the Arab Middle
&st and North Africa (Cambridge: Middle Bast and North African
Studies Press, 1979) (originally a UNESCO working document SC.761
CASTARAB/3); and Tbomas NafT and Rutb Matson (eds), Water in the
Middle East: Conflict or Cooperation? (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press,
1984).
47. Joyce Starr, 'Nature's Own Agenda: A War for Water in tbe Mideast',
Guardian Weekly, 24 March 1991, p. 19.
48. Starr, 'Nature's Own Agenda', pp. 17-62.
49. Starr, 'Nature's Own Agenda'; NafT and Matson, Water in the Middle
&st, pp. 83-101.
50. Reginald Green and Stephany G. Jones, 'Sub-Sabaran Africa's External
Debt Crises', Third World Affairs 1986 (London: Tbird World Founda-
tion, 1986) pp. 17-32.
51. Aldo Ferrer, 'Argentina's Foreign Debt Crisis', Third World Affairs 1985
(London: Tbird World Foundation, 1985) pp. 10-33.
52. John Crabtree and Rosemary Tborp, 'Latin America's Medium-Sized
Debtors: Neither Fish Nor Fowl', Third World AI/airs 1986, pp. 33-43.
53. 'Poverty in Figures', in Elio Camarin (ed.), L'Etat du Tiers Monde (paris:
La DCcouverte, 1987) pp. 132-4.
54. See Appendix, Table A.2.
Part One
Security Concerns Old and
New
Introduction
National security is an elusive concept. As already noted, security

studies have traditionally limited their focus to externally generated
military or power threats to certain core interests of states (for
example, their independence and territorial integrity, as weIl as
relative power position and autonomy). In recent decades, however,
far-reaching changes in the setting of both international and domestic
politics have led analysts and statesmen alike to question this
restrictive interpretation and define national security in much broader
terms. Nowhere is this questioning more in evidence than in the case of
the Third World.
Are-evaluation of the national security concept raises several sets of
issues. The first concerns the range 0/ interests whose infringement
could be considered a matter of national security. State interests have
generally been considered to be the core of national security. There
are, however, a variety of societal interests or mixed state-societal
interests which can, at any given time, come to be regarded by a
community or its political representatives as important collective
interests. These include the physical survival of a people, national
unity/integration, a strong, competitive and not overly dependent
economy, the material and ecological weIl-being of a population,
and the preservation of its basic values, ideology and cultural
identity. In addition, there are what might be termed regime
interests, notably the security of tenure of existing authorities and
the maintenance of the system of government, both of which can be
threatened by either internal or external challenges. The protection of
such regime interests will usually come to be identified with national
security for two main reasons. One is the fact that elites/regimes
constitute the supreme authority in the state and are therefore bound
to perceive a threat to themselves as a threat to the state as a whole.
They are also largely responsible for the national security agenda. The
second reason is that acute challenges and prolonged internal instabil-
ity seriously weaken not only the regime but also the position of the
state itself in the international arena.
26
Introduction to Part One 27
Thus the concept of national security can encompass a range of

state, societal and regime interests. These are distinguishable analyti-
cally but in practice overlap substantially, making them difficult to
disentangle. Any or all can arguably be regarded as important
collective interests of a community which, if threatened or under
serious pressure, deserve to be protected or promoted through state
action. In this sense, they can be deemed to be national security
interests. Moreover, as Mohammed Ayoob points out, in the Arab
context, unlike elsewhere in the Third World, national security is a
doubly ambiguous symbol. Its invocation tends to mask potential
differences not only between state, societal and regime interests but
also between the 'national' security interests of individual Arab states
(watani security) and those of the Arab state system and Arab
community as a wh oIe (qawmi security).
Another set of issues in any reassessment is the types of activity or
conditions which can be deemed to pose a threat to national security.
This raises questions about both the sources and the types 0/ security
threat. As we have seen, the realist paradigm is concerned almost
entirely with security problems that are external in origin and military
or power-political in character. The former centre on the potential for
the use of force in a system, the latter on the likelihood of substantial
revisionism or pressures arising from the distribution of power. Many
analysts, including the contributors to this volume, would argue that
the range of threats confronting Third-World states is much broader.
Externally, there are not only military and power threats but also a
variety of other pressures and threats, including: transnational political
pressures undermining the legitimacy, stability, and even cohesion of
regimes and states; economic pressures, amplified by dependence,
endangering the foundations of national economies as weil as the
material well-being and ecological environment of populations; and
cultural pressures threatening the values, way of life and ultimately the
identity of a population.
Internal conditions as weil can pose significant security concerns,
with or without accompanying external pressures. In the political
sphere, serious societal fragmentation can lead to pressures for the
break-up of the state itself, a major security problem. Acute and
prolonged domestic instability will seriously weaken a state's position
in the international arena, not only sapping its foreign policy energies
but also exposing it to external penetration and intervention. Internal
political turbulence in one state can also threaten the security of other
states either through a demonstration/spillover effect or else because it
28 Introduction to Part One
leads to assertiveness or adventurous behaviour by a regime to deflect

attention from internal difficulties. Serious internal economic
difficulties threaten national security in various ways. Poor economic
conditions undermine the economic competitiveness of astate in the
international arena and increase its dependence/vulnerability. They
also hamper a state's technological development and restrict its
financial resources, thereby hampering its ability to develop or
acquire military and other forms of capability. Finally, such condi-
tions contribute to domestic instability and weaken astate politically.
A third set of issues concerns the strategies to be adopted to cope
with national security problems, a topic dealt with only tangentially in
this volume. This inc1udes such dilemmas as how much attention and
resources to devote to domestic conditions as compared to external
conditions, and to military activity as compared to diplomatic,
political or economic activity. Underlying all of this, however, are
differences in fundamental approaches to national security. Thus the
traditional paradigm heavily emphasizes an adversarial-conflictual
approach to security, including arms build-ups and power-balancing,
either on a national basis or jointly with others (alliances). It leaves
open the question of whom to join with - other regional states or
intrusive major powers. This is by no means the only approach,
however. Other possibilities include an accommodative approach
(mutual security), which retains important elements of the adversarial
approach but also involves efforts to set limits to conflict/competition
or resolve some of the outstanding differences. Finally, there is the
cooperative security approach in which the involved parties work
together, establishing a form of concert or collective security to deal
with common enemies or common problems.
In this section and elsewhere in the text, several noted analysts
examine the Middle-Eastern security environment in an effort to
determine the principal sources of insecurity and the major types of
security threat confronting Arab states. An attempt is also made to
place the Arab security situation in broader perspective by comparing
it with conditions in other Third-World regions.
In his lead-off chapter, Mohammed Ayoob provides a comprehen-
sive overview, at least from a strategic and political perspective, of
security conditions within the Arab world. Considerable attention is
paid to external sources of insecurity both at the regional and global
level. At the regional level, a further distinction is made, at least
implicitly, between conditions in the larger regional arena (that is,
relations between Arab and non-Arab states, such as Israel and Iran)
Introduction to ParI One 29
and those in the Arab core arena. In his analysis of external sources of
insecurity, Ayoob focuses on both military and power-political
pressures in the overall regional environment. Seeurity concerns in
this sphere are compounded in his view by the permeability of Arab
societies and the ensuing transnational influences and pressures under-
mining the political security of Arab states and regimes. The result has
been a rather threatening regional environment in which security
concerns are arguably more acute than in any other Third-World
region. Emphasis is also placed on the internal sources of insecurity
that Arab states share with other developing countries, notably the
stresses and strains arising from the twin processes of state- and
nation-building. Indeed, in Ayoob's view, such conditions constitute
the most immediate and persistent security concerns within the Arab
world.
The two chapters which follow acknowledge that both external and
domestic conditions generate considerable inseeurity, but tend to
emphasize one sector or the other in their analysis. Interestingly, their
arguments converge on at least one important point.
Janice Stein's contribution is the closest in approach to the
traditional paradigm, concentrating largely on the military-seeurity
environment, particularly in the regional sphere. She emphasizes the
unstable character of this environment and hence the periodic risk of
war arising from strategie vulnerability. With regard to the more
immediate sources of armed conflict, she acknowledges the danger of
wars of opportunity arising from imbalances of power (for example,
the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait). However, in an intriguing twist, the
primary explanation for much of the reeurrent violence is sought in the
domestic vulnerability of regimes throughout the area. The prognosis
for the coming decade is pessimistic, with a reeurring danger of armed
conflict due not only to the continuing instability of the strategie
environment and potentially intensified domestic instability but also to
the likely reduction of superpower commitments and the consequent
easing of constraints on adventurous regional powers. Military-
security concerns will therefore remain central for regional states.
Ali Dessouki's chapter, while also acknowledging the multiple
sources of insecurity, focuses largely on the domestic environment of
Arab states. He explores the underlying pressures and strains, both
political and economic, which threaten the internal stability of these
states, as well as the security concerns which these generate. Thus his
argument moves in the opposite direetion from Janice Stein's, in this
case from the inside outwards. They agree, however, that domestic
30 Introduction to Part One
pressures create significant regional security problems. Dessouki also

examines the military-security environment as an independent source
of security concerns. However, he places somewhat greater emphasis
than Stein does on power-imbalances and underlying grievances as
sources of instability, particularly in connection with the Arab-Israeli
conflict.
In short, the contributors to Part I (and indeed to the volume as a
whole) emphasize that the pressures and threats confronting Arab
states are both multidimensional and acute. They emanate from all
sectors of the external environment, especially the regional sphere, as
weil as from domestic conditions. Any understanding or analysis of
Arab national security must necessarily take all these elements into
account.
2 Unravelling the Concept:
'National Security' in the
Third World
Mohammed Ayoob
INTRODUCI10N
'National security' in the Third World, which inc1udes the Arab world
in its entirety, is primarily detennined by the interaction of three
factors: (i) the degree of stateness possessed by a given state; (ii) the
way in which the international system impinges on its security
situation; and (iii) the regional environment in which the state is
located - this last factor itself partially a function of the first two
variables but also possessing autonomous dynamies of its OWD. In
other words, the national security of each Third-World state has three
major dimensions which need to be studied, namely, the domestic, the
global and the regional. Only a comprehensive analysis of all three
dimensions, with the analysis of each dimension undertaken not in
isolation but infonned by the existence of the other dimensions, and by
the complexity of their interactions, can provide the total picture of a
state's 'national security' situation.
The tenn 'national security' has been deliberately put within
quotation marks in order to emphasise that what one means by this
tenn is not necessarily faithfully portrayed by the use of the tenn itself.
This is so for two major reasons: (a) the word 'nation' assumes a high
degree of societal cohesion within Third-World states as weIl as a high
degree of psychological identification of the overwhelming majority of
the populace with the concept of the state concerned (however, most
Third-World societies fall towards the weak end of the weak-strong
continum used to measure both these factors); and (b) the tenn
'national security' is, as Arnold Wolfers has argued, at best an
'ambiguous symbol', l though with powerful emotional appeal, which
can have a number of meanings depending upon when it is used and by
whom. This is particularly true in the case ofThird-World states where
31
32 'National Security' in the Third World
the concepts of state and nation rarely coincide and where regimes
more often than not represent narrow sectional interests rather than a
broad national consensus on security issues. The multiple, and often
contradietory, uses of the tenn 'national security' are thrown into
sharp relief in the Arab context where one can very legitimately ask
whether the tenn refers to the security of the 'Arab nation', to whieh,
at least formally, most Arab intellectual and political elites pay
homage, or to the security individually of the nearly two dozen states
that use the appellation 'Arab' for themselves. 2 We shall return to this
question at a later stage in this ehapter.
As a result of both the highly ambiguous nature of the eoncept of
national security and the peculiar nature of the Third-World state
whieh is, above all, eharaeterised by the dissonance between what Ali
Mazrui has called 'the defining eharacteristies' of any state, namely,
'the twin prineiples of centralised authority and centralised power', 3
the phenomenon ofnational security in the Third World has taken on
eharacteristics very distinet from the original concept as developed in
the United States after the Second World War. 4 There are three
eharacteristics that testify to the distinetive nature of national security
in the Third World: 5
1. The salieney and intensity of internal threats to state struetures

and regimes are of a mueh higher order in comparison with both
external threats and the intensity and salieney of internal security
problems within the long-established and industrially-developed
states of Western Europe and North America;
2. The way in whieh the international system impinges on the security
of Third-World states as compared to the way it affects the
security of developed states - exacerbating the seeurity problems
of the former by delinking them from issues of global security,
while redueing those of the latter by securely tying them to the
global security agenda and making them subject to the Mutual
Assured Destruction (MAD) strategie doetrine of the two super-
powers; and
3. The mueh greater propensity for inter-state confliet in the regional
environments of Third-World states as compared to those of the
developed and securely allied states - a tendency that is partially
the produet of the autonomous dynamics of confliet present within
Third-World regions and partially a funetion of the inadequate
stateness of Third-World states and of their weak linkage with,
and marginal relevance to, the global security agenda. 6
Mohammed Ayoob 33
THE DOMESTIC CONTEXT
To take each of these characteristics separately, the first, namely the

increasing saliency ofinternal threats to Tbird-World states/regimes, is
a function primarily of the low level of legitimacy enjoyed both by the
states and, more particularly, by their regimes. Politicallegitimacy7 is
inextricably tied to the degree of 'stateness'S possessed by astate.
Adequate 'stateness' can be defined as a balanced combination of the
coercive capacity and infrastructural powe~ of the state with a high
degree of identification on the part of the citizenry with the idea of the
particular state that encompasses them territorially.
Stateness is, in turn, fundamentally a product of the availability of
adequate time for (and a relatively high degree of insulation from
external pressures during) the completion of the twin processes of
state-making and nation-building. IO Both these factors are conspicu-
ous by their absence in the Tbird World. Tbird-World states are
expected to accomplish the various phases that together make up the
twin processes of state-making and nation-building, namely penetra-
tion, standardization, participation and redistribution,l1 simulta-
neously and within a matter of decades. The same task was
undertaken and accomplished with varying degrees of success by the
earliest and most developed states in Europe more or less sequentially
and over aperiod of centuries. 12
Furthermore, the system of states evolved simultaneously with the
evolution of early modem states in Europe and, therefore, their state-
making process remained largely unaffeeted by the intrusion of
systemie faetors. Tbis is not the case with the state-making enterprise
eurrently underway in the Tbird World where, as one scholar has
argued,
Tbe role of external faetors is more often than not decisive in

shaping, conditioning and eonstraining the state- and nation-
building processes ... It is here that the Third World experience is
strikingly different from the similar experience in Europe. Tbe
European countries had their respeetive conflicts and convulsions
but these could be sorted out within the parameters of European
eivilizational dynamics. There was neither any extra-regional great
power nor any overarehing influence of global, politieal, economie
and strategie systems to interfere with the historical evolution of
European states and societies. 13
In addition to the factors of grossly inadequate time for, and the

intrusion of systemic factors into, the state-making process in the
Third World, this enterprise has been made immeasurably more
difficult by the discontinuities and distortions introduced by colonial-
ism into the process of state-formation. While it is true that the
colonial experience provided Third-World countries with proto-states
that could be used as jumping-ofT points for the creation of post-
colonial political orders, these administrative units were created in near
total disregard of the native populations' pre-colonial affinities and
loyalties. Political boundaries were drawil for purposes of colonial
convenience or intra-imperial trade-ofT and cut across ethnic, tribai,
religious and linguistic ties, dismembered established political units,
and joined more than one pre-colonial political entity into uneasy
administrative unions.
Africa was the outstanding example of the arbitrary carving up of an
entire continent by European powers, but the division of the Arab
parts of the Ottoman Empire after the First World War and their
assignment to Britain and France, followed by the carving out of
Lebanon from Syria and the establishment of a Jewish homeland in
Palestine, ranks on a par with the partition of Africa in terms of its
disruptive efTects on the region now known as the Middle East. 14 The
Arab (especially the overwhelmingly Muslim Arab) subjects of the
Ottoman Empire were bound to sufTer from an acute identity crisis
when their traditional bonds of loyalty to the Sultan-Caliph IS had to
be exchanged neither for an Arab political identity (based on a
linguistic-cultural affinity which was, in turn, based on religious
ties)16 nor for loyalty to Geertz's 'little community' of easily identifi-
able 'workaday authority systems.'17 Instead, they were required to
pay political obeisance to artificial colonial constructs such as Trans-
Jordan, Lebanon or modem Iraq, which contained no political,
religious or cultural meaning for them.
As a result, the new Arab states were, and continue to be, faced with
major internal challenges to their legitimacy. These have often been
translated into threats to the security of state structures and/or
regimes, both from Arab nationalist forces within and outside the
boundaries of particular states and from local sectarian, ethnic and/or
regional forces (for example, the Kurds in Iraq) who have resented the
imposition of artificial political boundaries and, even more, of rulers to
whom the population at large owed no sense of traditional or
nationalist loyalty. In some states, such as Iraq and Syria, this has
led to the bizarre outcome of minority sectarian groups (regionally-
Mohammed Ayoob 35
based Sunni Arabs in the former and equally regionally-based Alawites

in the latter), capturing state power in the name of Arab nationalist
ideologies, thus further undermining the legitimacy of the state
structures imposed after the First World War. The Iraqi military
response to the ideological and political challenge posed by the
Iranian revolution demonstrated, above all, the acute nervousness of
a regime that, like most of its other Arab counterparts, was afraid 'of
the drama of Iran ... the spectacle of men and women in the street
making and remaking their own history. Win or lose they were out
there, demanding to be counted or heard ... The detailed (and
legitimate) differences between their own countries and Iran were
beside the point.,}B
The Arab monarchies, also new constructs without strong tradi-
tional, religious or nationalist bases of legitimacy, are in an equally
vulnerable position. The ease with which the Egyptian and Iraqi
monarchies - the two most powerful monarchies in the Arab world,
one of which could trace its origins to the early nineteenth century -
were overthrown in the 1950s bears adequate testimony to the fragility
of both the political base and the legitimacy formula of the remaining
Arab monarchies, not to mention the 'monarchlets' of the Gulf. It also
explains the obsession of the Arab monarchies with issues of regime
security, an obsession that is reflected in their domestic and foreign
policies alike. 19 Thanks to the oil price boom of the 1970s, the
legitimacy of the major oil exporting monarchies of the Gulf has
become tied to their oil wealth and the largesse that these regimes have
been able to dispense among politically important segments of their
populations. The downturn in oil prices following the glut in the oil
market in the second half of the 1980s, and the consequent shrinking
of their financial capacities, could therefore have very adverse effects
on the legitimacy of these regimes. The aftermath of the Iraqi invasion
of Kuwait and of the Gulf War that followed has further demonstrated
the problem of legitimacy faced by the sheikhdoms in the Gulf. The
fact that the Al-Sabahs' attempt to reimpose family rule (in the garb of
traditional legitimacy) has met with considerable opposition from
within Kuwaiti society is an indication of the shallowness of the
regime's social and political base. If this is the case in Kuwait, where
the Al-Sabahs have ruled for almost 250 years, one can assume that
other Gulf monarchies, which are of much later vintage, are bound to
experience even greater problems of legitimacy.
It is no wonder, therefore, that most Arab regimes are constantly
preoccupied with meeting internal challenges to their right to rule. The
Kurdish insurgency in Iraq, despite its periodic ups and downs, is the
most dramatic of such challenges. But none of the Arab regimes is even
mildly certain that its legitimacy is widely accepted among the
population it rules. These apprehensions regarding regime security
are clearly reflected in the consistent refusal of all Arab rulers, no
matter of what politica1 hue, to permit open expression of politica1
opinion and free politica1 contests. This is understandable because at
least for some of them, such as Saddam Hussein of Iraq and Hafez al-
Assad of Syria, this is literally a life-and-death issue, since their
politica1 defeat in electoral contests is likely to prove to be the first
step towards their physical liquidation. The internal dimension of
'national security', which is how threats to the security of regimes
are usually portrayed, therefore forms an important, integral part of
the broader question of 'national security' in the Arab world, as it is in
much of the Third World. This is a consideration very different from
the usual externally-directed quest for national security among devel-
oped, industrialized states and goes a long way to explain why the
concept of 'national security' as it is used in the Western literature of
international relations needs to be redefined to give it adequate
analytica1 power to explain Third-World realities. For, in the final
analysis, for most Third-World states, including most Arab states, the
domestic politics or domestic policy arena forms apart of the national
security policy arena.
THE GLOBAL DIMENSION
The likely impact of the international demand for oil on the legitimacy
problem of the Arab oil exporting countries demonstrates only one
way in which the international system impinges on the security of Arab
states and regimes. The functioning of the global balance of power,
and particularly the inadequate linkage of the security of Third World
states with issues of systemic security, has a major impact on the
security of these states, exacerbating the security problems that are
embedded in the contradictions which pervade their state-making
process. The perception on the part of the major powers that the
security concerns ofThird-World states are marginal to the security of
the international system as a whole, as weil as to the security of the
superpowers, permits, and on occasion encourages, the proliferation of
both intra-state and inter-state conflict within the Third World. This is
the result ofthe fact that, unlike the situation in Europe, Third-World
Mohammed Ayoob 37
conflicts do not have the capacity to impinge in any major way on the
stability of the central balance and, in the perceptions of superpower
decision-makers, are not likely to affect fundamentally the superpower
relationship in the foreseeable future.
As a result, international political contests, strategic competitions
and economic rivalries have been conducted since the end of the
Second World War without much regard for the fall-out effects of
these sets of adversarial relationships on Third-World security. Tbird
World countries have often been used as pawns in the 'great game'
being played by the major powers. In fact, it has been argued that
great power conflicts are exported to the Tbird World, whether as wars
by proxy or as exacerbation of indigenous Tbird-World conflicts via
superpower policies of military assistance and political support to local
antagonists, partially in order to cool the political temperature around
the core areas of the globe that are of vital importance to the
superpowers. 20 Irrespective of the details in each and every case, what
is clear is that the weak linkage of the security of Third-World states
with issues of international security has meant that insecurity and
conflict in the Third World has proliferated at the same time that the
stability of the central balance has prevented the outbreak of conflict
between the two major alliance systems in Europe.21
Tbis paradoxical phenomenon has been nowhere more evident than
in the Middle East. Tbe eight-year-Iong Iran-Iraq war, accompanied
by colossal loss of human life and massive material destruction,
demonstrates the validity of this thesis better than any other single
case. Except for abriefperiod in 1982, when an Iraqi military collapse
seemed imminent, and during the last months of the fighting in 1988,
when both superpowers came to the conclusion that strong naval
pressure had to be exerted on Iran to force it to bring the fighting to a
elose, the major international actors carried on with their routine
activities almost oblivious to the fact that the most destructive war
since the Second World War was raging in what had been advertised as
one of the most strategically important regions in the world. 22
Tbe only sphere where they did have a substantial impact on the
fighting was that of arms supply. Here, the Soviets and the French (the
latter with tacit American approval) kept Iraq well-s1JPplied with the
most sophisticated hardware, while, at the same time, the superpowers
'successfully pressured their allies and friends to restrict their deliveries
[to Iran] to weapons that will not tilt the war in Iran's favour,.23 Tbey
did so in order to prevent a victory by Iran, which was perceived by
both superpowers as the greater threat to their respective, and over-
lapping, conceptions ofregional stability in the oil-rich Gulf. However,

the general indifference on the part of the major powers to the massive
destruction produced by the Iran-Iraq conflict was the most dramatic
manifestation of the Third World's marginality to the international
system and of the impotence of two leading Third-World powers, Iran
and Iraq, to affect the substance of the global security agenda.
The difference in the US reaction to the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait as
compared to the Iran-Iraq war is explained by the fact that while in the
latter case the two adversaries were relatively equally matched (espe-
cially as a result of the major powers' clear military and political tilt
toward Iraq), the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait was a clear case of the
regionally dominant power in the Arab littoral of the Gulf annexing an
oil-rich sheikhdom and threatening Saudi oil-fields with a similar fate.
The control of such major oil resources under one political entity could
have had major consequences for the future health of the industrialised
economies. The American military response was, therefore, undertaken
less to protect the sovereignty of Kuwait or Saudi Arabia than to
prevent the vast oil reserves ofthe Gulffrom falling under the control or
influence of a single Arab power basically hostile to Israel and therefore
potentially hostile to Western interests and objectives in the region. In
this case also, the linkage between systemic security concerns and those
of the region have less to do with the security of individual Arab states
than with the security of oil supplies to the industrial countries,
particularly in times of regional conflict involving Arabs and Israelis.
This brings us to the special Iinkage that Israel's security concerns
have with the global security agenda, at least as defined by the United
States. That there is such a linkage is demonstrated by the high degree
of superpower involvement there has been in the Arab--Israeli dispute
during the past several decades. This intense superpower involvement,
however, has led analysts to gloss over two fundamental realities.
First, Israel is not a Third-World state, either in terms of its self-
perception or the perceptions of most other countries in the Third
World. It may be physically located in the Third World but it is not 0/
the Third World. Israel - in terms of its ideological origins, the
organization of its society and polity, the composition of its elite,
and its links with important American and European constituencies
(both Jewish and Gentile) is, despite the presence of a substantial
number of OrientaI Jews, basically a West.ern state. Therefore, Israeli
security is perceived in the West as being linked to issues of systemic
security, which is not the case with any other country in the Middle
Bast or in the rest of Asia and Africa.
Mohammed Ayoob 39
Secondly, what makes this linkage very explicit is the symbiotic

relationship between Israel and the United States. According to Nadav
Safran, who has written probably the best and most comprehensive
history of the American-Israeli relationship,
The relationship between the United States and Israel has been
exceptional among the respective relationships of the two countries
and a most unusual one in the annals of international relations
altogether. Formally, this relationship never attained the status of a
contractual alliance, yet in practice, it has been as strong as any
alliance, written or unwritten, in which either country has been
involved, and it has permeated the societies as well as the govern-
ments of the two countries as no other relationship of theirs has,
with the possible exception of American-British relations. 24
Anyone familiar with the policy-making process in Washington can

attest to the fact that the security of Israel is primarily a domestic and
only secondarily a foreign policy issue in the Uni ted States. This is why
the American guarantee for Israeli security, as defined by the Israeli
political elite, is firm, open-ended and qualitatively different from any
commitment that either of the superpowers may make to the security
of any Arab state. This came through c1early even at the height of the
recent Gulf crisis and in the midst of the problems that the US seemed
to face in terms of garnering Arab support for its military venture
against Iraq. Throughout this crisis, Israeli sensitivities regarding any
linkage between the Gulf conflict and its continued occupation of the
West Bank and Gaza remained of foremost concern to the American
administration.
On the other hand, in the final analysis, the former Soviet Union's
most important friends in the Arab world are expendable as far as
Moscow is concerned and their interests can be sacrificed on the altar
of an improved superpower relationship. They do not have a domestic
constituency nor does the Russian political public possess any great
degree of empathy for their security dilemma. The same applies to
Egypt's relationship with the Uni ted States and is demonstrated by the
conscious decision on the part of the latter to maintain Israel's
qualitative superiority over Egypt in terms of sophisticated weapons
transferred to both countries.
Similarly, while the Saudi connection may be important to the
United States in terms of its overall Gulf strategy, the House of Saud
is, in the final analysis, expendable as far as Washington is concerned.
What the United States is primarily interested in is the huge reserves of

oil in Saudi Arabia; its interest in the security of the country and the
stability of the regime is derivative and secondary. Therefore, there are
substantial divergences in the Saudi definition of its security and the
American definition of Saudi security, although these have lately been
glossed over because of the American military presence in Saudi
Arabia in the context of the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait. It should be
noted, however, that these differences are periodically reflected in the
controversies which seem to surround every Saudi request for sophis-
ticated American weapons.
The American-Israeli relationship is, however, on a very different
level. Given the domestic pressures that operate on the American
foreign policy process, no American administration is likely to be
either willing or able to challenge, let alone sacrifice, Israeli interests
that have been defined by the Israeli political elite as essential to the
security of the state. This is the basic reason for the asymmetrical
nature of superpower involvement in the Arab-Israeli conflict and for
the greater American capacity and resolve to stare down the Soviets in
any superpower confrontation on the Middle East. This is why the
only time a superpower confrontation over the Middle East seemed
likely was during the October War (1973), because that was tbe only
Arab-Israeli war in which the Arabs had taken the initiative and in
which Israeli security seemed to be seriously threatened. The June War
(l967) and the Israeli invasion of Lebanon (1982) were botb launched
as a result of Israeli military initiatives and in both instances Israel held
the overwhelming military advantage throughout the duration of the
conflicts. In neither case did the Soviet Union try to escalate the
confrontation to the level of superpower relations because it knew that
its capacity (in terms of the decision-makers' political will as weil as
domestic popular support) to undertake such a confrontation was very
limited compared to that of the United States.
Moreover, it is now generally recognized that Russia's capacity to
support its Arab friends in future crises has been immeasurably
weakened as a result of recent developments which indicate the great
stake that Moscow has in good relations with the West in general and
the United States in particular. As one Arab intellectual pointed out,
'From now on, the [Russians'] interests, as weil as those of Eastern
Europe, will be focused on getting c10ser to Western Europe and
diminisbing tensions with the Uni ted States ... The Middle East may
weil rank last on the scale of interests,.2S Such are-evaluation of
Russian capabilities and intentions has already led to major reassess-
Mohammed Ayoob 41
ments in frontline Arab countries, especially Syria, about Moscow's

value as a counterweight to American support for Israel in the context
of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Exigencies related to American efTorts to
hold together an American-Arab coalition against Iraq temporarily
created some complications in US-Israeli relations. Nevertheless, in
the long run, the weakening of Russian support for the Arab parties to
the conflict, especially the PLO and Syria, can also be expected to
augment Israeli intransigence by removing a major US concern that
has occasionally led to press ure on Israel to adopt a more flexible
stance, particularly on the issue of the Occupied Territories.
To reiterate, as far as superpower involvement is concerned, it
would be wise to treat the American commitment to Israel's self-
defined security needs as being on a par with Washington's commit-
ment to the security of its NATO allies, with the significant difTerence
that Israel continues to reserve for itself the right to make its own
decisions regarding war and peace. In terms of the US-Israeli
relationship, therefore, it would be wrong to treat the Arab-Israeli
conflict as being between ordinary Third-World states in which both
sides are used by the superpowers merely to enhance their global
interests.
As far as the systemic dimension of national security is concerned,
the basic indifTerence of the superpowers to the efTects, whether
positive or negative, that their policies and rivalries may have on -the
security of Third-World states and regimes has been c1early dem on-
strated during the last four decades. Third-World states possess only
instrumental value for the superpowers in the sense that they can be
used to enhance the latters' global objectives, including those regional
objectives that are related to the global strategies of the superpowers.
In the process, of course, superpowers make political and military
commitments which may co me to haunt them later. But these
commitments are made not to ensure the security of Third-World
states because such a goal is perceived by the superpowers as being
intrinsically valuable; they are made principally to protect superpower
interests and to provide a quid pro quo for strategie services rendered
by Third-World states. Systemic inputs into the 'national security' of
Third-World states are therefore beyond the control of these states
themselves and, more often than not, deleterious from the point of
view of preserving their security. The American commitment to Israel
is an exception to this rule, for the reasons mentioned above, and
because, as has been argued earlier, Israel is not a Third-World state in
terms of its intrinsie characteristics.
REGIONAL DYNAMICS
Tbe predominant reality that confronts anyone looking at the auton-

omous dynamics of Third-World regions is the great propensity for
conflict that is inberent in these dynami~. Tbis, as bas been argued
earlier, is partially the result of the new 'lines of amity' that bave been
drawn in the world following the Second World War, according to
wbicb violent conflict in tbe Tbird World, unlike in Europe, is
considered permissible, and is sometimes actively encouraged by tbe
dominant powers. But wbile sucb permissiveness may promote and
exacerbate conflict, it cannot create conflict in a political vacuum.
Tberefore, tbere must be reasons intrinsic to Third-World regions that
produce inter-state conflict.
Even a cursory look at the pattems of conflict in Tbird-World
regions would lead one to conclude that many conflicts in these regions
are the legacies of the colonial era, particularly of the process through
wbicb power was transferred from tbe colonial autbority to tbe
successor govemments. Tbe unfinisbed business of the transfer of
power from Britisb to native bands in the Indian subcontinent bas
continued to haunt the successor states, India and Pakistan, for the
past four decades in tbe form of the Kashmir dispute. 26 In Southeast
Asia, Indonesia's policy of 'confrontation' with Malaysia in tbe early
1960s was to a considerable degree a response to the political strategy
devised by the Britisb to divest tbemselves of their Soutbeast Asian
possessions. Tbe bitter conflict in Indochina started in the 1940s as an
anti-colonial war led by the Vietminb to force tbe reluctant Frencb to
grant independence to Vietnam. It escalated into a major American
military intervention and subsequent Am~rican defeat in 1975 and,
after the reunification of Vietnam, led to the Vietnamese invasion of
Kampucbea and the Cbinese invasion of Vietnam in 1979.
However, the most prominent example of conflicts whicb bave tbeir
roots in the colonial era is the Arab-Israeli conflict. Tbis conflict owes
its origins to tbe Britisb mandate over Palestine, tbe conflicting
promises made by Great Britain to the Zionist and Arab leaders during
tbe First World War, and, finally, to London's inability or unwilling-
ness to find a formula acceptable to all parties concemed for tbe transfer
ofpower to a successor govemment (or govemments) in tbe territory it
was supposed to groom for self-govemment. Tbis colonial legacy bas
left not merely immense bittemess in tbe region but also a diaspora of
millions of stateless Palestinians wbo, collectively, bave no stake in tbe
stability of tbe regional state system as presently constituted.
Mohammed Ayoob 43
A further colonial legacy that has been responsible for many

conflicts in the Third World is related to the arbitrary allocation of
peoples and territory to states, especially in Africa. This laid the
foundations for many inter-state conflicts born out of irredentism,
including those between Ethiopia and Somalia, Libya and Chad, and
over the Western Sahara. Colonially mediated, if not dictated,
boundaries also contributed to war between Iran and Iraq and the
border conflict between India and China. The recent crisis in the Gulf
over the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait also has its roots in colonially-
arranged boundaries. Since its creation in the aftermath of the First
World War and the division ofthe Ottoman Empire's Arab territories,
Iraq has advanced its claims to Kuwait on the grounds that Ottoman
suzerainty over Kuwait was asserted through the province of Basra,
which became apart of Iraq under the new dispensation. Since the
Emir of Kuwait had not renounced Ottoman suzerainty even during
the period after 1899 when Kuwait became a British protectorate, this
vague Ottoman connection gave Iraq at least some legal basis to
challenge Kuwaiti independence. Two earlier crises on this issue in
1961 and 1973 were defused, the first by a British show of force and
the second by inter-Arab efforts. The issue, however, resurfaced very
dramatically in 1990 and led to massive deployment of American
forces in the Gulf. The war that ensued destroyed much of Iraq's
industrial infrastructure.
Another major factor that has contributed to the conflictual
dynamics of Third-World regions is the lack of congruence between
regional states' perceptions of their own legitimate political role in a
region and the role they attribute to other regional powers. This is
especially true of regions where there is an obvious pre-eminent power
present but which is unable to translate its pre-eminence (an objective
phenomenon which can be measured by size, population, GNP and
resources) into predominance (a subjective phenomenon based on the
acceptance of the legitimacy of the pre-eminent state's managerial role
by other members of the regional subsystem) because of the resistance
of one or more of the other regional states.
That such a problem did not exist in Europe during the last four and
a half decades, especially in Western Europe vis-a-vis West Germany,
was the result of the direct strategie presence of the superpowers in
Europe and the latter's near-total integration into the two major global
alliance networks. However, as alliance structures started to loosen
appreciably following Gorbachev's 'peace offensive' and Moscow's
precipitate withdrawal from Eastern Europe, the problem of Germa-
ny's legitimate role has resurfaced in a big way and threatens to

complicate European international relations far into the future. This
is the major reason why many Eastern and Western European states
have a mutual vested interest in maintaining some form of superpower
presence in Europe in order to contain the German role in the region.
If Europe's problems of finding a regional balance appear to be so
complicated when it is weil integrated into the mechanisms of the
global balance ofpower, the range ofproblems in Tbird-World regions
are bound to be of a much bigher order, given the fact that the internal
dynamics of Third-World regions function far more autonomously.
Tberefore the lack of perceptual congruence mentioned above forms a
much more important input into intra-regional relationships in the
Third World.
Probably the prime example of a major Third-World state's
inability to translate its regional pre-eminence into predominance is
that of India in South Asia. India's managerial ambitions in the
subcontinent have been thwarted by Pakistan's refusal to accept such
an Indian role as legitimate - a refusal buttressed by Islamabad's
capacity to borrow power from abroad, principally from the United
States, to thwart Indian regional aspirations. It is immaterial that
Pakistan's ability to borrow power - in the sense of the transfer of
sophisticated military hardware, political support and economic aid -
from the United States has been primarily related to American
perceptions of Pakistan's actual and/or potential capacity to serve
American strategie interests, not in South Asia but in the Gulf and in
Afghanistan. For, in the final analysis, Pakistan's capacity to borrow
power has affected the power balance in South Asia and augmented
the lack of congruence between Indian and Pakistani perceptions of
the two countries' roles within South Asia. Tbis divergence in Indian
and Pakistani perceptions has been a major factor that has contrib-
uted to the cold war between the regional antagonists that has lasted
for four decades and has been punctuated periodically by bouts of
major fighting. 27
Similarly, Indonesian managerial ambitions in archipelagic South-
east Asia during Ahmad Sukarno's rule and those of Vietnam in
Indochina after the American withdrawal in 1975 ran into rough
weather because of regional opposition. Such aspirations and the
opposition they evoked contributed to the bighly conflictual political
atmosphere in the two subregions of Southeast Asia. Tbe first led to
the Indonesian policy of 'confrontation' with Malaysia, which ended
in 1965 only with the removal of Sukarno from power;28 and the
Mohammed Ayoob 45
second led in 1979 to the Third Indochina War involving Vietnam,

Kampuchea and China - a conflict whose last chapter is still to be
written. 29
However, the Middle East once again provides the best example of
how the lack of perceptual congruence among regional states
regarding their respective roles can contribute in a major fashion to
the sustenance, exacerbation and prolongation, if not the actual
creation, of regional conflict. The Arab-Israeli conflict, in its extra-
Palestinian dimension, is primarily a reflection of the lack of
congruence between Israel's perception of its role in the Middle East
and the major Arab countries' perception of Israel's proper role in
the region. Israel's self-proclaimed, and repeatedly demonstrated, role
as the major military power in the area which must preserve its
military superiority over any combination of Arab powers, and the
refusal of the major Arab states to accept permanently a position of
strategic inferiority, provides, in addition to the Palestinian issue, the
major reason for the continuing tensions between Israel and the Arab
states.
As has been argued earlier, such lack of congruence between the
perceptions of pre-eminent regional powers and those of other
regional states is a common occurrence in many Third-World
regions. What makes the Middle East case unique is that, measured
in terms of objective criteria (size, population, GNP and resources),
Israel does not qualify even to aspire to the regional military
preponderance that it has achieved and desires to maintain - a
predominance which it successfully demonstrated in the 1967 and
1982 (and even in the last stages of the 1973) wars as well as in the
attack on the Iraqi nuclear facility in 1981. This makes it harder for
the other members of the regional subsystem to accept the legitimacy
of such Israeli aspirations let alone their translation into reality. On
the other hand, Israel views such preponderance as the minimum
assurance for its security, indeed existence, arguing that any reduction
in its capacity to prevail militarily over any combination of Arab states
would lead to its extermination.
The fact that Israel has been able to maintain its military predomi-
nance on the basis of its technological and organizational superiority
as weIl as on the basis of its symbiotic relationship with the Uni ted
States helps to remind the Arabs of Israel's fundamentally Western
character and therefore adds to their feelings of frustration and
defiance, which merge with the historical baggage of revulsion against
Western domination that they already carry. The merging of this
feeling of past foreign domination with current impotence, and the

combination of the resulting Arab frustration a10ng with the Israeli
obsession about absolute security make it harder for the parties to find
an acceptable solution to the conflict and to integrate Israel fully into
the region. Consequently, unIike India, Indonesia and Vietnam, Israel
is treated as a 'pariah' state by other members of the regional system,
thus giving the Arab-Israeli conflict much more of a zero-sum
character than is the case with the India-Pakistan or the China-
Vietnam-Kampuchea relationships.
There is a further element which is common to the dynamics of
many Third-World regions but has some unique characteristics in
relation to the Middle East, namely the possibility of regional nuclear
proliferation. This contributes to the conflictual e1imate and heightens
threats to the security of regional states. This problem cannot be
totally isolated from the global problems of nuclearization and the
Iinkage between issues of vertical and horizontal nuclear proliferation.
These considerations are particularly relevant in terms of the search
for improved status in the international hierarchy by the larger and
relatively more developed states in the Third World - the 'regional
influentials'. The positive correlation between status and the
acquisition of nuclear weapons was driven home to regionally power-
ful Third-W orld states by the additional respect and privileges
accorded to China following the demonstration of its nuclear-
weapons capability. This conclusion was strengthened by the
fact that China's enhanced standing in the international system,
which depended principally on superpower perceptions of Beijing's
role in global affairs, was not afTected adversely even by the turmoil
China underwent during the decade of th"e Cultural Revolution that
followed e10se on the heels of its first nuclear explosion in 1964. The
Chinese experience clearly signalIed to other major Third-World
states that the successful exercise of the nuelear weapons option
had become the standard by which the status of international actors
was judged.
But, in addition to considerations of status, a genuine regional
security dimension is present in the issue of nuclear proliferation.
This is related to the fact that the possession of nuclear weapons not
only enhances status; it also threatens to escalate qualitatively the level
of violence and the magnitude of destruction in future Third-World
conflicts. Such potential for escalation is a particular cause for concern
because of the existence of a large number of inter-state disputes in the
Third World, many of which have great potential for violent conflict.
Mohammed Ayoob 47
In this context, the presence of nuclear-weapons-capable states adds to

the apprehensions regarding the stability of regional balances and the
grave consequences that might follow if these balances broke down.
These apprehensions and concerns increase substantially when it
becomes evident that some nuclear-capable Third World states are
locked into adversary relationships with other similarly capable states
(for example, India and Pakistan).
However, there are other cases of regional nuclear monopoly,
notably Israel in the Middle East, which, because they are devoid of
the element of deterrence that is present in more equally matched
situations, can turn out to be even more dangerous. This could be so
because of the asymmetrical nature of the nuclear equation involved,
which ofTers much greater temptation for the nuclear capable states to
employ a strategy of nuclear brinkmanship for political as weIl as
military ends. The Israeli case is very pertinent in this regard because
its nuclear weapons programme is the most advanced outside those of
the five members of the nuclear club and because it possesses
sophisticated delivery systems such as the longer-range version of the
lericho 11 missile, which not only bring almost all Arab capitals within
Israeli range but some Russian strategic targets as well. 30
According to one knowledgeable source, following the detailed
disclosures made in October 1986 by the former Israeli nuclear
technician, Mordechai Vanunu, experts in the field came to the
conclusion that Israel had used the plutonium extracted from the
nuclear plant at Dimona 'to assemble at least 100 and as many as 200
nuclear weapons of varying destructive power'. Vanunu's revelations
also indicated tbat tbe Israelis bave been producing significant
quantities of deuterium and tritium - substances used in tbe manu-
facture of tbermonuclear warbeads - and tbat tbey appear to be
working on developing these vastly more destructive weapons. 31 Tbe
Israeli strategy of portraying its nuclear monopoly as a necessary
condition for tbe maintenance of Israeli security and tberefore its
unwillingness to tolerate a second nuclear-capable power in tbe Middle
East - a strategy operationalized successfully in tbe attack on tbe Iraqi
nuc1ear reactor in 1981 - all but prec1udes tbe possibility of a
deterrence-type situation evolving in tbe region in tbe foreseeable
future. Escalating tensions and tbe trading of tbreats between Iraq
and Israel during tbe first balf of 1990 were also directly linked to
Israel's nuc1ear monopoly in tbe region and Iraq's attempt to
neutralize it by threatening tbe use of cbemical weapons in retaliation
for an Israeli nuc1ear attack on any Arab country.
Tbe close connection between Israel's nuclear monopoly in the

Middle East and global nuclear deterrence was accepted by tbe
Soviets, wbo 'portray[ed] successive US administrations as essentially
conniving in the transfer of nuclear expertise and materials to Israel in
an effort to build up Israel's nuclear arsenal as a supplement to their
own,.32 However, tbe same nuclear cOIinection, wbicb reinforces
Israel's value to the US as a strategic ally, merely belps to confirm
the worst fears tbat tbe Arabs barbour regarding US support for
Israeli security objectives. Tbis is the case especially because the
legitimacy of Israeli objectives is seldom, if ever, cballenged effectively
in the United States as a result of Israel's clout within the American
domestic political arena. Tbe commonly acknowledged Israeli nuclear
capability, although still sbrouded in a policy of deliberate ambiguity,
and Israel's determination to maintain its nuclear monopoly are, in tbe
long run, the most important factors emerging out of the regional
dynamics of conflict that major Arab states would bave to integrate
into tbeir national security calculus. Tbis bas become all tbe more
imperative given Israel's demonstration of its capacity to bit Arab
capitals as far away as Bagbdad and Tunis with conventional aircraft
alone, and without bringing into play its developing missile capability.
Tbe missile race, wbicb bas already been joined by a number of Arab
countries including Iraq, Syria and Saudi Arabia, is bound to
exacerbate tensions in tbe Middle Bast in the coming decade.
In addition to the existence of a nuclear-capable and militarily
preponderant Israel in the beart of the Arab world, there is another
factor that makes Arab regional dynamics unique in tbe Third World.
This is the pan-Arab dimension of 'national security' wbicb often runs
counter to the requirements of state and regime security in the Arab
world. Despite the reduced salience of the pan-Arab factor in inter-
Arab politics since the death of President Gamal Abd al-Nasser of
Egypt, tbe imperatives of Arab nationalism operate in one form or
another, and to one degree or another, on the policy-making process of
even the most narrowly-based Arab regimes. In fact, unlike in the
Nasirite beyday of pan-Arabism, these days tbe narrower tbe base of a
regime the greater is its need to pay lip service to the concept of the
Arab nation in an attempt to augment its legitimacy. This is wby in tbe
1980s the Iraqi regime of Saddam Hussein attempted to portray itself
as the defender of pan-Arab interests against the 'Persian enemy' from
the east; the Assad regime in Syria also constantly refers to the larger
Arab dimension of the Arab-Israeli conflict wbenever a breakthrough
on the Palestinian-Israeli problem appears even remotely feasible.
M ohammed Ayoob 49
However, Arab nationalism when used as apart of the Arab

regimes' legitimacy formula can turn out to be a double-edged
sword. Its capacity to cut both ways was clearly demonstrated during
Nasser's rule in Egypt when he first used Arab nationalist rhetoric to
delegitimise many of his Arab opponents and then fell victim to the
same demands of Arab nationalism when he allowed Egyptian policy
in 1966-7 to become hostage to Syrian adventurism. He was conse-
quently obliged, against bis better judgement, to call for the removal of
UN forces from Sinai - a move that direct1y precipitated the Israeli
attack on Egypt on 5 June 1967.33
Tbis complex and, at times, unpredictable interplay between the
interests of individual Arab states and regimes on the one hand and the
demands of larger Arab 'national' interests on the other can create a
confusion of priorities for state elites in the Arab world, especially
since they are aware of the delegitimising capabilities of Arab
nationalist ideology. Such confusion of priorities can often weaken
and/or distort their responses to emerging security threats both from
within and outside their borders. Secondly, the existence of a pan-Arab
ideology that detracts from the legitimacy of states in the Arab world
makes the interventions of some Arab states in the afTairs of others less
illegitimate in the eyes of the Arab public than would be the case
elsewhere in the Third W orld. The Syrian intervention in Lebanon
since 1976 is the primary, although not the only, example of this
phenomenon. The Iraqi invasion of Kuwait in 1990 is another, and
much more dramatic, demonstration of the same phenomenon, namely
that the boundaries that divide Arab states are somehow not fully
legitimate and that attempts to unify Arab states even by force will not
necessarily be perceived in all parts of the Arab world and by all
sections of the population as illegitimate. The rise of Saddam Hussein's
popularity in certain segments of the Arab world in the wake of his
Kuwaiti venture, while partially related to his attempt to link the
future of Palestine with that of Kuwait, was also in part the result of
residual pan-Arab sentiments which welcomed the unification of Arab
countries in principle, irrespective of who was the instrument of a
particular act of unification and what his motives were in undertaking
such a venture. As a result, it appears that, in Arab perceptions at
least, Arab states are less sovereign, even in a theoretical sense, than
other members of the system of states. Such a diminution of
sovereignty, even in the abstract, opens the way for more interven-
tions and intra-mural conflicts within the Arab world, thus detracting
from the 'national' security of individual Arab states .
The Iraqi invasion of Kuwait and the ensuing crisis have, of course,
had results that go beyond the issue of the degree of legitimacy
enjoyed by Arab states in the perceptions of the Arab public. As
the first post-Cold War crisis it has brought to the fore two trends that
are likely to gain strength during the next decade. The first of these, as
demonstrated by the Iraqi action, is the greater assertiveness of
regionally pre-eminent powers. Such states are likely to feel embol-
dened to take aggressive stances vis-a-vis their weaker neighbours,
which they were previously constrained from doing because of their
fear that such actions would be interpreted by one or the other
superpower within a Cold War framework and would, therefore,
bring about an adverse response. Iraq, in this case, made the grievous
miscalculation of underestimating American strategie interests in the
Gulf and in the larger Middle East region, which are independent of
Cold War considerations. However, this does not mean that similar
actions by other potential regional hegemons in less strategie regions
of the globe would bring a similar American military response.
Regionally pre-eminent powers, except in Third-WorId regions de-
fined as of intrinsie strategie importance to Washington, are likely to
find much greater scope for the flexing of their political and military
muscles than was hitherto the case in a ·worId defined by strategie
bipolarity.
Second, with the disappearance of countervailing Soviet power, the
United States, as the only political superpower in the international
system, is likely to use its military muscle more brazenly in those parts
of the Third World, such as the Gulf, considered strategically
important by Washington. One wonders if the massive deployment
of US forces in the Gulf would have taken place so quickly and so
unilaterally if the Soviet Union had not clearly signalIed that it was
bowing out of the superpower game of competition for power and
influence in the Third WorId. Both these trends - greater assertiveness
on the part of potential regional hegemons and greater American
unilateral activism in the Third WorId - are likely to be witnessed
simultaneously in the 1990s in different parts of the Third WorId.
CONCLUSION
The security of states in the Arab Middle East, like those in the rest of
the Third WorId, is affected by a number of factors. These include
their colonial political heritage; the length of time during which their
Mohammed Ayoob 51
process of state-making and nation-building has been in progress, and

the degree of stateness they have achieved; the political and social
bases of their ruling elites; the way in which the international system
has impinged upon, and continues to impinge upon, the regional
security situation; the inequality in power among regional states; the
intensity of traditional sources of interstate conflict among members of
the regional system; and the presence or absence of nuclear-weapons-
capable powers within the region.
However, there are several factors that give the situation in the
Middle East its distinctive flavour. The first of these is the total lack of
congruence between Israeli aspirations for regional preponderance,
which the Israelis consider to be a sine qua non of their secure
existence, with the objective criteria for regional pre-eminence that
could have made it somewhat easier for other members of the regional
subsystem to come to terms with the realities of Israeli military power.
Second, Israeli military and technological superiority is perceived in
the Arab world as a function of its Western character. This, combined
with the circumstances that surrounded Zionist immigration and
colonization and the creation of the Israeli state, namely the British
mandate over Palestine, evoke images of past European domination
and Arab impotence that make the Arab acceptance of Israel as a
legitimate member of the Middle East system very difficult, if not
impossible.
Third, Israel's nuclear monopoly and its insistence that such a
monopoly is essential for Israeli security, even survival, has created a
situation in which the Middle East suffers from the worst of both
worlds: it is neither nuclear-free nor is there a realistic possibility of a
relatively stable nuclear deterrence prevailing in the region in the
foreseeable future.
Fourth, unlike the case of other Third-World regions, one Middle
Eastern state's security is symbiotically linked to the security of one of
the superpowers but in such a way as to preserve the regional state's
freedom to decide virtually unilaterally on matters relating to war and
peace in the region. This gives Israel a distinct advantage over its Arab
adversaries in times of real crisis; at the same time, it holds the danger
of one or both superpowers being sucked into a regional conflict
because of American inability or unwillingness to separate US security
interests from those of Israel.
Fifth, the continued legitimacy, however reluctantly conceded by
Arab regimes, of the concept of an Arab 'nation', as distinct from the
Arab 'nations' that are defined by state boundaries, creates problems
for the legitimaey of Arab regimes as weIl as eonfusion over their

security priorities. The former makes them susceptible to pressures that
are not considered illegitimate in the Arab eontext. The latter, as in the
case of Nasser's Egypt or Saddam Hussein's Iraq, ean sometimes end
up forcing Arab regimes to overextend their eommitments, thus
aIlowing them dangerously to outrun their states' eapabilities in sueh
a fashion as to seriously eompromise the 'national' security of the
states they are supposed to govern.
FinaIly, the huge oil reserves in the Gulf subregion of the Middle
East and the close interaetion both of important issues relating to the
Gulf and of major regional powers aetive in the Gulf with the issues
and powers that dominate the Fertile Crescent, makes the Middle East
the Third World region with the greatest strategie importance to the
outside world, especially to the industrialised states of Europe and
North Ameriea. This strategie signifieance was demonstrated above all
by the international - in partieular, the US - reaetion to the Iraqi
annexation of Kuwait and the presumed threat this move presented to
the oil fields of Saudi Arabia. However, this Iraqi move threatened not
only external interests, it also threatened to upset the balance of power
in the entire Arab East. It is the latter faetor that provides the
explanation for the immediate and adverse Egyptian and Syrian
reaetions to Iraq's move, and their willingness to eontribute troops
to the Ameriean-led multinational force eonfronting Iraq. The faet
that Saddam Hussein's attempt to don the mantle of both Arab
nationalism and Islamie reassertion in his attempt to legitimise Iraq's
annexation of Kuwait brought positive responses at the popular level
from many parts of the Arab world added to the apprehensions of the
rulers of the traditional centres of pan-Arab nationalism - Cairo and
Damascus - as weIl as to the self-proclaimed standard-bearers of
Islamie piety, the House of Saud. By posing as the latter-day successor
to Nasser, Saddam Hussein succeeded in elevating the Iraqi ehallenge
to Egypt and Syria, not to mention Saudi Arabia, to the ideological
level. This ehallenge once again raised the question of whether broader
Arab 'national' interests (this time defined by Saddam Hussein as they
had been defined in the 1950s and 1960s by Nasser) should take
priority over those of the security of individual Arab states. The
confusion over the eoncept of 'national seeurity' in the Arab world
resurfaced in 1990 as it had not done since the heyday of Nasserism.
This once again demonstrated the fluidity of the eoncept - a fluidity
that our analysis has shown is applieable not only to the Arab world
but to most parts of the Third World.
Mohammed Ayoob 53
Notes
1. Arnold Wolfers, Diseord and Collaboration: Essays on International

Polities (Baltimore, Md: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1962) ch. 10.
2. Mohammed EI Sayed Said, 'Tbe Arab League: Between Regime Security
and National Liberation', in Mohammed Ayoob (ed.), Regional Security
in the Third World (London and Boulder Col.: Croom HelmfWestview
Press, 1986).
3. Ali Mazrui, 'Tbe Tripie Heritage ofthe State in Africa', in Ali Kazancigil
(ed.), The State in Global Perspeetive (Aldershot: Gower, 1986) p. 107.
4. For abrief but useful analysis of the American origins of the national
security concept, see Stephen Philip Cohen, 'Leadership and the Manage-
ment of National Security: An Overview', in Mohammed Ayoob and
Chai-Anan Samudavanija (eds), Leadership Pereeptions and National
Security: The Southeast Asian Experienee (Singapore: Institute of South-
east Asian Studies, 1989) pp. 29-30.
5. Mohammed Ayoob, 'Security in the Third World: Tbe Worm about to
Turn?', International Affairs, 60, 1 (Winter 1983-84).
6. Mohammed Ayoob, 'Regional Security and the Third World', in Ayoob
(ed.), Regional Seeurity. According to one source, 'Among the 116
conflicts (crises, interstate military interventions, international wars) that
took place in the world between 1946 and 1977, I counted no less than 72
involving only countries from the Third World, and another 27 where at
least one protagonist was from the Tbird World, i.e., a total of 99 or 85
per cent of all international conflicts.' Bahgat Korany, 'Strategic Studies
and the Third World: A Critical Evaluation', International Social Scienee
Journal 110 (1986) p. 547. Korany's data is drawn from Mark Zacher,
International Confliets and Colleetive Security (New York: Praeger, 1979).
7. Charles W. Anderson has defined politicallegitimacy as that 'character-
istic of a society which enables men to disagree vigorously over the
policies that government should pursue or the personnel that should
occupy the decision-making posts, yet to support common notions of the
locus of decision-making authority, the techniques by which decisions are
to be made, and the means by which rulers are to be empowered'. Charles
W. Anderson, 'Toward a Theory of Latin American Politics', in Howard
J. Wiarda (ed.), Polities and Social Change in Latin Ameriea, 2nd revised
edn (University of Massachusetts Press, 1982) p. 310.
8. For a discussion ofthe concept of 'stateness', see J. P. Nettl, 'Tbe State as
a Conceptual Variable', World Polities, 20, 4 (July 1968) pp. 559-92.
9. Infrastructural power has been defined by Michael Mann as 'the capacity
of the state actually to penetrate civil society, and to implement
logistically political decisions throughout the realm'. Michael Mann,
'The Autonomous Power of the State: Its Origins, Mechanisms and
Results', in John A. Hall (ed.), States in History (Oxford: Basil Black-
well, 1986) p. 113.
10. Mohammed Ayoob, 'Tbe Security Predicament of the Third World State:
Reflections on State-Making in Comparative Perspective' (paper pre-
sented to the 1989 annual meeting of the American Political Science
Association, Atlanta).
11. Stein Rokkan, 'Dimensions of State-Fonnation and Nation-Building: A

Possible Paradigm for Research on Variations within Europe', in CharIes
Tilly (ed.), The Formation of National States in Western Europe
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Pres~, 1975) pp. 572-4.
12. F or detailed discussions of the origins and evolution of the modern states
in Europe, see Joseph R. Strayer, On the Medieval Origins of the Modern
State (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1970), and Tilly (ed.),
The Formation of National States.
13. S. D. Muni, 'Comments', in Ayoob, Regional Security, p. 29.
14. For the carving up ofthe Arab world by the colonial powers at the end of
the First World War and its aftennath, see Elizabeth Monroe, Britain's
Moment in the Middle East, 1914-1956 (BaItimore, Md: Johns Hopkins
Press, 1963).
15. Zeine N. Zeine has argued persuasively that 'Ifthe Turkish rule lasted for
four hundred years in Arab lands and if the Arabs acquiesced in that rule
most of that time, it is essentially because the Turks were Muslims ... Tbe
Arabs as Muslims were proud of Turkish power and prestige. Tbe
Ottoman Empire was their Empire as much as it was the
Turks' ... during the greatest part of Turkish rule the Arabs did not
consider the Turkish rule a 'foreign' rule ... The vast majority of the
Muslim Arabs did not show any nationalist or separatist tendencies
except when the Turkish leaders, tbemselves, after 1908, asserted tbeir
own nationalism'. Zeine N. Zeine, The Emergence of Arab Nationalism
(Delmar, NY: Caravan Books, 1973) pp. 125-6 and 127.
16. 'The true birtb of Arab nationalism took place witb tbe rise of
Islam ... Tbe Arab nation, al-Ummah al' 'Arabiyyah was, tbus, a nation
originally born out of Islam. Islam was tbe prime creator of tbe national
life and political unity to tbe Muslim Arabs. This "religious nationalism"
remains an indelible part of tbe bearts and minds of tbe Arabs'. Zeine,
The Emergence of Arab Nationalism, pp. 130-1. In tbe later part of tbe
nineteentb century, wben tbe concept of the Arab umma was in tbe
process of evolving out of tbe womb of tbe Islamic umma, most
ideologues of Arab nationalism, including Cbristian Arab tbinkers,
stressed tbe link between tbe two. See Haim, Arab Nationalism, p. 62.
17. Clifford Geertz, 'Tbe Integrative Revolution', in Clifford Geertz (ed.),
Old Societies and New States (New York: Free Press, 1963) p. 119.
18. Fouad Ajami, The Arab Predicament (Cambridge University Press, 1981)
p. 181.
19. For a thorough and perceptive analysis of tbe problem of political
legitimacy in the Arab world, see Micbael C. Hudson, Arab Polities:
The Seareh for Legitimacy (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press,
1977).
20. For details oftbis argument, see Sisir Gupta, 'Great Power Relations and
tbe Third World', in Carsten Holbraad (ed.), Super Powers and World
Order (Canberra: Australian National University Press, 1971) p. 125. Tbe
historical precedent for tbe present distinction between tbe two arenas of
great power interaction - Europe and North America - where war is
ruled out, and the Third World, wbere it is permissible, can be traced,
according to Martin Wight, to the Treaty of Cäteau Cambresis (1559)
Mohammed Ayooh ss
hetween France and Spain. 'In a verbal agreement, that formed no part of
the treaty, the delegates decided on the meridian of the Azores and the
Tropic of Cancer as a line, to the west and south of which acts of hostility
would not violate the treaty ... "No peace heyond the line" became
almost the ruIe of international law, giving freedom ~o plunder, attack
and settIe without upsetting the peace of Europe' . Martin Wight, Systems
0/ States (Leicester University Press, 1977) pp. 124--5.
21. This does not mean that greater superpower involvement in the Third
W orld would have improved the security situation. Since by definition
most of the Tbird World, including almost all of the Arab world, has
never heen considered by either superpower as essential for the preserva-
tion of its vital interests, greater superpower involvement in Third-World
conflicts, and especially with those in the Arab world, would only have
escalated regional tensions and increased the intensity of regional
conflicts.
22. For details of the Iran-Iraq conflict, incIuding the helligerents' relations
with the superpowers, see Shahram Chubin and Charles Tripp, Iran and
Iraq at War (London: I. B. Tauris, 1988).
23. Stephanie G. Neuman, 'Arms, Aid and the Superpowers', Foreign
Affairs, 66, 5 (Summer 1988) p. 1055.
24. Nadav Safran, Israel: The Emhattled Ally (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap
Press, 1981) p. 332.
25. YoussefM. Ibrahim, 'Arabs Fear End ofCold War Means a Loss of Aid
and Allies', New York Times, 6 March 1990, p. AI.
26. Sisir Gupta, Kashmir: A Study in India-Pakistan Relations (Bombay: Asia
Publishing House, 1966).
27. For details ofthe South Asian 'security dilemma' resulting from the lack
of congruence in Indian and Pakistani perceptions of the optimal regional
balance, see Mohammed Ayoob, 'India in South Asia: Tbe Quest for
Regional Predominance', World Policy Journal, 7, I (Winter 1989-90).
28. J.A.C. Mackie, Kon/rontasi: The Indonesian-Malaysian Dispute, 1963-
1966 (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1974)..
29. For details of the Indochina conflict and the Chinese invasion of
Vietnam, see Nayan Chanda, Brother Enemy: The War after the War
(San Diego, Calif.: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1986); and William J.
Duiker, China and Vietnam: The Roots 0/ Conflict (Berkeley, Calif.:
University of California Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1986).
30. For an assessment of Israeli nucIear capabilities, see Leonard S. Spector
and Jacqueline R. Smith, Nuclear Ambitions: The Spread 0/ Nuclear
Weapons 1989-1990 (Boulder, Col.: Westview press, 1990) pp. 149-74.
31. Helena Cobban, 'Israel's NucIear Game: The US Stake', World Policy
Journal, 5, 3 (Summer 1988) p. 416.
32. Cobban, 'Israel's NucIear Game', p. 422.
33. For details ofNasser's use of Arab nationalist ideology and its results, see
Malcolm Kerr, The Arab Cold War: Gama/ 'Abd al-Nasir and His Rivals,
1958-1970, 3rd edn (London: Oxford University Press, 1971).
3 The Security Dilemma in
the Middle East: A
Prognosis for the Decade
Ahead
Janice Gross Stein
Security in the Middle East has often been treated as a function of

military and structural variables. Drawing largely on strategic theories,
analysts have focused heavily, if not exclusively, on system structures,
alliance patterns, force structures, the relative distribution of capabil-
ities, and military spending to explains wars of opportunity. Wars 0/
'opportunity' occur when leaders estimate that they have superior
military capability, at least in the short-term; that their use of force
will not encounter serious resistance, either from their target or from
allied states; and they see the opportunity to make significant gains.
Although wars of opportunity have occurred in the Middle East, they
have occurred less frequently than wars 0/ 'vulnerability'. Conse-
quently, an analysis that focuses primarily on opportunity-driven
wars can be inappropriate and misleading as an explanation of
security and 'insecurity' in the Middle East in the past and as a guide
to the future.
A second necessary component of an examinati on of security in the
Middle East is an analysis of the vulnerabilities that motivate leaders
to choose war. One important source of vulnerability is the impact of
the international security dilemma in the Middle East. Unfavourable
geographic and technological factors in the region provide an inhos-
pitable environment for the creation of stable security. To be useful,
however, analysis of the workings of the international security
dilemma must be supplemented by an examination of domestic
factors, particularly the impact of political and economic vulnerabil-
ities on leaders' decisions to resort to the use of force.
This chapter argues that inter-state war in the Middle East has often
been and will continue to be a response to the workings of the
international security dilemma abroad and/or acute political, econom-
56
Janice Gross Stein 57
ic and social stress at horne. The international security dilemma has

created an unstable strategic environment that at times has made the
use of force the least damaging choice among the options available to
leaders. The vulnerabilities created by political, economic and social
stress have often blinded leaders to some of the obvious costs of
military action. One or the other is sufficient to explain the occurrence
of war, but the two sets of factors have often occurred together in
many of the wars in the Middle East.
Before exploring this argument, two important caveats are in order.
In this chapter, 'security' is used in its restrictive meaning. It refers to
the security of astate from military attack or sustained violence from
outside. A stable security environment is one which makes military
force unattractive as the principal instrument of conflict management.
While the scope of 'security' is deliberately restricted to permit greater
rigour in the identification of the problem, the explanation of 'security'
and 'insecurity' includes political, economic and social variables as weIl
as military factors as principal components.
Second, this analysis of the interactive impact of strategic and
domestic vulnerability explains wars that occur inadvertently, un-
planned and unintended, or wars in which leaders see no alternative
but to resort to force if they are to avoid significant 10SS.1 It does not
explain wars where leaders see an opportunity and use force to make
gains. Most observers of Middle Eastern politics consider Saddam
Hussein's invasion and annexation of Kuwait a classic war of
'opportunity'. This chapter argues that in the post-Cold War era in
the Middle Bast, wars of vulnerability are likely to continue to occur as
they have in the past, but wars of opportunity will become more
frequent as sophisticated military technology spills into the region and
the restraints imposed by the superpowers disappear. In a reinforcing
and amplifying pattern, wars of opportunity that do occur will
magnify the vulnerabilities of leaders in the Middle East.
THE INTERNATIONAL SECURITY DILEMMA: THE IMPACT

OF STRATEGIC VULNERABILITY
The international security dilemma is most acute when one state

believes that its security requires the insecurity of another. The
paradigmatic case used to illustrate the pernicious impact of the
security dilemma is the First World War: German military leaders
believed that they needed a capability to defeat Russia and France
58 The Security Dilemma in the Middle East
quiek1y and decisive1y, because the 1atter's superior resources wou1d

allow them to win in a prolonged eonfliet. Russia, on the other hand,
could not to1erate a decisive German advantage in a short war, and so
planned a 40 per cent inerease in its standing forces by 1917. As a
eonsequence, German military leaders inereasingly viewed a preventive
war as the only alternative to unilateral vulnerability. The dilemma is
clear: either Germany would be able to win a short war, which the
Entente would not allow, or the Entent~ would be ab1e to win a
prolonged war, which Germany eould not allow. The simultaneous
seeurity of the Entente and Germany was not possible. 2
When are security dilemmas of this kind most like1y to occur? Three
faetors are partieularly important: when offence has the advantage
over defence, or leaders think that it does; when defensive postures are
indistinguishable from offensive postures; and when geography pro-
vides few defensib1e borders and little proteetion against sudden
surprise attaeks. Even a eursory look at the Middle East demonstrates
how potent these three faetors have been and eontinue to be in the
Arab-Israel eonfliet and in inter-Arab eonfliets.
The offence has the advantage when it is easier to destroy the other's
army and take its territory than it is to defend one's own, or when the
eosts of offenee are equal to or less than the costs of defence. 3
Although the costs of offence in comparison to defence are usually
measured in military terms alone, they also include the domestic
economie and political costs of absorbing an attack on one's horne
territory. In the Middle East, leaders have frequently estimated that
the offence would bring decisive advantages, indeed, that it was the
only viable military option.
Israel's strategie planning in its conflict with Arab states was and is
guided by this estimate. Its inability to match the military spending of
its Arab neighbours, its limited manpower reserves and its inability to
sustain a long war all dictate an offensive strategy designed to defeat
an opposing army outside its own territory. Even when its leaders were
uncertain about whether or not Arab armies were preparing for
imminent attack, it opted for offensive military action, because of
the intolerable costs of absorbing a first strike. Consequently, the
decision rule has always been: when in doubt, pre-empt. 4 In Otto von
Bismarck's more vivid language, the intolerable military, economic
and political costs of defensive warfare to Israel have led it to develop
a strategy of 'suicide from fear of death'.
Such a strategy would make no sense whatsoever if leaders
anticipated that the defence would have the advantage. When the
Janice Gross Stein S9
defence has the advantage, the state that fears attaek does not pre-
empt - since that would be a wasteful use of its military resources -
but rather prepares to absorb the attaek. As is obvious, several states
ean follow this strategy simultaneously without jeopardizing the
seeurity of others. Moreover, the world is safer and less threatening:
smaller and weaker states can hold off larger and stronger rivals;
alliances need not be negotiated in advance; and leaders ean take time
to experiment with diplomatie strategies in an effort to avert or
terminate a war.
Geography and teehnology are the two prineipal faetors that
determine whether the offence or the defence has the advantage.
When borders are easy to cross, an offensive strategy becomes more
attraetive. In Robert Jervis's words, 'fortifieations ean be great
equalizers'.s When borders are not separated by natural obstac1es,
an offensive strategy ean seem partieularly attraetive. Many borders in
the Middle East are of this kind. Beyond the obvious example of the
Egyptian-Israeli armistice line, whieh until 1982 did not even have the
advantage of legitimaey through international recognition, the borders
between Iraq and Jordan, Iraq and Kuwait, Syria and Jordan, and
Syria and Lebanon are of this kind.
The disadvantages of borders that are not reinforced by natural
obstac1es are eompounded when they are not reinforeed by strategie
depth, whieh can lessen the eosts of absorbing an adversary's attaek.
The shallower the space and the flatter the terrain, the greater the
attraetiveness of an offensive strategy. Iraq, in eomparing its capacity
to absorb and defend against an attaek from Iran after Ayatollah
Khomeini came to power, eoneluded that its smaller population and
territory made an offensive strategy and a war fought in Iran far
preferable to defence against an Iranian attaek. Not unlike leaders in
1914, Iraq's estimate of the advantages of the offence proved to be
mistaken. 6
Teehnology also eontributes to the advantages of offenee and
defenee. As the United States and the Soviet Union long under-
stood, when weapons and weapons systems are highly vulnerable, a
strategy of offence gains decisively and, under certain conditions, pre-
emption becomes imperative. In Egypt in 1967, for example, President
Gamal Abd al-Nasser's generals urged strongly in the last week of
May that Egypt strike first. They did so in part because the bulk of the
Egyptian air force was eoncentrated in three airfields and there were
inadequate hangar faeilities to proteet the aireraft when they were on
the ground. Once the possibility of military action became real, the
vulnerability of the Egyptian air force created a strong incentive for

offensive action. 7
A second factor which creates a security dilemma is the inability to
distinguish between offensive and defensive military postures. If
weapons that protect do not simultaneously provide the capability
for attack, the security dilemma is significantly reduced. As Robert
Jervis notes, while an advantage to the defence can only ameliorate the
security dilemma, a differentiation between offensive and defensive
postures comes close to eliminating the dilemma. 8 When they are
distinguishable, much of the uncertainty about an adversary's inten-
tions is removed. In the Middle Ages, for example, pulling up the
drawbridge could not be interpreted as preparation for attack.
In the contemporary Middle East, it is virtuaUy impossible to
distinguish offensive from defensive positioning. It hardly needs
saying that armour can be used for offence or defence, as can artillery
and almost any other form of mobile military equipment. Probably the
best illustration of the fungible utility of modern military technology is
the anti-aircraft missile. Traditionally conceived of as a defensive
weapon, it was critical to the Egyptian military offensive across the
Suez Canal in 1973. The new generation of ballistic missiles and the
accumulation of stockpiles of chemical weapons are not obviously
defensive or offensive in use. They are multipurpose weapons that can
serve either purpose. Although they both may serve as a deterrent to
large-scale military action, once war seems likely or even possible to
any of the major Middle-Eastern states, the dynamics of the security
dilemma are likely to fuel the fear of attack and inflate the advantages
of moving first.
Both the absolute and relative size of standing forces as a proportion
of available manpower have also grown rapidly in the Middle East in
the last decade, particularly in Iraq, Iran, Syria and Saudi Arabia. 9 To
the extent that armed forces are mobilized and ready, it becomes far
more difficult to distinguish offensive and defensive military postures.
A vivid illustration of the difficulty (jf making these kinds of
distinctions and the consequent likelihood of miscalculation is pro-
vided by the positioning of the Egyptian Army in May 1967.
In 1966, the Egyptian General Staff had developed a plan for a
mobile defence in the depth of the Sinai peninsula. Except for the
retention of a few key defensive positions such as EI Arish and Abu
Ageila, the Egyptian army would pull back to encourage Israel's army
to penetrate deeply into the Sinai peninsula to adesignated 'killing
area'. A second line of defence, further back, would reinforce Egyptian
troops.l0 If it had been implemented, this pattern of deployment eould

not have been interpreted as preparation for offence ..
President Nasser refused to permit the planned deployment when he
ordered Egyptian forces east of the Canal in May. He was unwilling to
abandon, even temporarily, Egyptian eontrol of forward positions.
Consequently, Egyptian troops were sent east and deployed direct1y
against Israel's frontier without speeifie guidance. Ironieally, the
Egyptian military planned a defensive deployment in preparation for
offensive action, while President Nasser ordered an offensive deploy-
ment in preparation for defence.
In short, the inhospitable nature of Middle-Eastern geography and
the eharaeter of modem military technology make the workings of the
international security dilemma partieularly aeute in the contemporary
Middle East. The inerease in the size of standing armies, the
exponential inerease in military spending, and the latest generation
of weapons systems will exacerbate rather than diminish an already
aeute security dilemma. 11
We have argued thus far that, other things being equal, the
dynamies of the international security dilemma make the Middle East
inhospitable to the ereation of stable security. It does so by ereating
legitimate fear of strategie vulnerability. If anything, our analysis
suggests that the security dilemma is likely to beeome more rather
than less acute in the future as the extractive capacity of states in the
Middle East grows and permits higher levels of defence spending, and
the latest generation of military teehnology further destabilizes the
strategie environment.
The large infusion of both sophisticated military technology and the
volume of military hardware can only increase the vulnerability of all
states in the Middle East. In the event of an Arab-Israel or inter-Arab
erisis, the chances of avoiding war in an inhospitable strategie
environment will be even lower than they have been in the past.
Crisis management will be more diffieult because leaders will be less
willing to give diplomaey the time it needs given the consequences of
absorbing an attaek.
Other things, however, are rarely equal. The international security
dilemma comes into play when leaders consider that war is possible, if
not likely. They do not make that judgement by looking only at the
military postures of their adversaries and assessing the impact of
changing technology on trends in the relative military balance.
Estimates of strategie vulnerability are one, but only one, component
in leaders' predisposition to consider a use of force. Equally important
is the politieal, economie and social context in whieh leaders eonsider

their options. These kinds of considerations are important not only in
the present-day Middle Bast, but have been so in the past.
THE IMPACT OF POLITICAL VULNERABILITY
In earlier analyses of leaders' decisions to initiate war in the Middle

East, I have argued that leaders are most likely to resort to force when
they feel strategically vulnerable and antieipate that their strategie
position will deteriorate further rather than improve in the future;
when they are under intense politieal pressure either at home or from
allies; and when they see little prospeet for negotiation as an
alternative strategy of confliet management. 12 All three eonditions
destabilize the strategie environment. The first has received a great deal
of attention in the strategie literature, and the last has been the object
of investigation by analysts of international negotiation, but the
impaet of political vulnerability to domestie pressure and that from
allies has received mueh less attention as an explanation of strategie
instability.
King Hussein of Jordan, Presidents Nasser and Sadat of Egypt, and
President Hussein of Iraq, to eite only four examples from the last
twenty-five years, all made the decision to go to war in large part
because of their politieal weakness at home or in the Arab system. The
war of 1967 is a classie case of inadvertent war, a war that nobody
planned and nobody wanted. It can be explained as the result not only
of an aeute security dilemma for Israel but also by the political
vulnerability at home of the Ba'athist regime in Damascus and King
Hussein in Jordan, and ofPresident Nasser in the Arab Middle Bast.1t
merits brief examination here because it illustrates so clearly the
interactive effect of the security dilemma and political vulnerability
in destabilizing the strategie environment.
In February 1966 a faction of the Ba'athist party took power in
Damascus. The neo-Ba'athist regime was intensely unpopular among
wide segments of the Syrian public. Its Alawi members were acutely
resented by the majority Sunni population who also disliked its
emphasis on secular socialism. It antagonized urban capitalists and
merchants, who opposed its eeonomic polieies, and rural landowners
who vigorously fought its land reform program. Religious, social and
economie tensions were overlain by intense factionalism within the
army.
Generals Assad and Salah Jadid were rivals for control of the state,
a rivalry that had both personal and familial dimensions as weil as an
ideological component. Jadid's supporters dominated the Ba'ath party
organization and Syrian intelligence, wbile Assad controlled most of
the ground forces and the air force. Jadid advoeated a radieal
restrueturing of the Syrian economy and a foreign policy of active
hostility to Israel as weil as to the eonservative Arab states. Assad
emphasized less stringent social and economie reform and greater
eooperation with the Arab world. By 1966, using bis position in the
party, Jadid dominated Syrian poliey.
Tbe aeute soeial, economie and politieal tension was projected
outward in calls for a mass war of liberation against Israel and
attaeks against Jordan and Saudi Arabia as agents of imperialism.
Tbe aetive support of Al Fatah raids against Israel and the escalation
in Syrian poliey can be traced directly to the acute socio-economie
erisis that engendered intense faetional rivalry. Tbis rivalry was
managed through the reorganization of the armed forces and an
escalation in the level of hostility towards Israel as a way of regaining
political eontrol. 13
As tension along the Syrian-Israeli border grew, on 4 November
1966, Egypt, with the strong eneouragement of the Soviet Union,
signed a defence paet with Syria. In response to the new alliance and to
the escalating raids, Israel launehed a large-scale military operation
against Al-Samu in Jordan, since Al Fatah was operating aeross the
Jordanian border. Jordanian officials bitterly eriticized the Egyptian
president's failure to meet Egypt's obligations under the Unified Arab
Command established in Cairo in 1964 and eome to the assistance of
Arab states attaeked by Israel. 14 Prime Minister Wasfi al-Tal insisted
that under the arrangements established by the Unified Arab Com-
mand, Egypt should have provided Jordan with air support and urged
Egypt to withdraw its forces from the Yemen and concentrate on the
real enemy in Sinai. ls King Hussein accused Egypt of sheltering behind
the 'skirts' of the United Nations' Emergeney Force (UNEF), set up in
1957 in the Sinai as a buffer between Egypt and Israel. 16 In so doing,
he ehallenged Nasser's eredibility as leader of the Arabs and champion
of the Palestinians. A full-scale propaganda war broke out between
Egypt and Jordan, whieh raged for the following six months.
In December 1966, humiliated by the poor performance of Egyptian
troops in the Yemen and by Jordanian taunts after Israel's raid against
al-Samu, Field Marshall Amir had recommended to President Nasser
that he ask for the withdrawal of UNEF but stop short of a blockade.
Minister of War, Shams al~Din Badran, had insisted astutely that a

blockade would be inevitable if 'the frenzied campaign [against
President Nasser] were not to gain momentum.'17
Four months later, a border incident between Israel and Syria
exploded into major violence. Six Syrian MIGs were shot down and
Israel's planes pursued the Syrian fighters to the outskirts of
Damascus. Syria reacted to its public humiliation with defiance
rather than with restraint. The govemment in Damascus attacked
President Nasser bitterly for failing to come to Syria's assistance.
Israel's leaders threatened military action against Syria in an effort to
deter further Syrian action along the border. President Nasser,
responding to arequest from the Soviet Union, sent troops across
the Suez Canal in an effort to deter Israel from punitive military
action against Syria.
Egyptian officials have subsequently acknowledged that the purpose
of the deployment of Egyptian troops across the Canal was limited.
Although Egyptian strategy was remarkably successful and Israel
abandoned plans for a large~scale raid, President Nasser escalated
his objectives and asked first for a partial withdrawal of United
Nations' forces and then proceeded to blockade the Straits of Tiran.
It was these actions that destabilized the strategie environment
between Egypt and Israel and heightened the security dilemma for
Israel.
These actions can only be explained by the acute political vulner~
ability of President Nasser at home and in the Arab world. Economic
reforms at home had failed and the economy was in crisis as the
balance of payments deteriorated and imports rose dramatically in
response to the rapid emphasis on industrialization. 18 Important
segments of the Egyptian bourgeoisie and technocratic elite were in
opposition to the regime. Abroad, Nasser's leadership of the Arab
world was under sustained challenge. He had suffered the humiliation
of Syrian secession from the Uni ted Arab Republic, the Egyptian army
was caught in a draining stalemate in the Yemen, and Nasser was
engaged in fierce polemies with Saudi Arabia, Jordan and Syria.
President Nasser was also responding to the humiliation he had
suffered in April when he failed to come to Syria's aid, and to the
strident calls from Arab adversaries, who challenged him to expel the
peacekeeping force.
Similar dynamies were at work in Jordan. King Hussein was the
most vocal in his challenge to Egypt, .but his strategy too was
motivated by his political weakness at home and his isolation in the
Arab world. As a member of the Royal Hasbemite court in Amman

perceptively acknowledged, Jordanian strategy was fraugbt witb
contradiction:
Altbougb this barrage of criticism against Egypt conflicted with

King Husayn's desire not to add to tbe already uI1stable situation,
the Jordanian Government feIt it bad to defend itselfby pointing out
that Egypt's actions contradicted its words. Unfortunately, Jordan's
criticisms of Egypt pusbed a volatile situation even closer to the
brink because Jordan was goading Egypt into taking action whicb
would undoubtedly increase the cbances of armed conflict with
Israel. Tbus tbe Jordanian Government found itself engaged in
activities wbicb it feIt were ultimately detrimental to tbe Arab cause
but wbicb were essential if it was to maintain its integrity in the eyes
of its people" .19
Tbe Jordanian cballenge can best be understood as the politics of

vulnerability.
Tbe decision by King Hussein to join in military alliance witb
President Nasser at the end of May can only be explained by the
interactive effects of the security dilemma and political vulnerability.
Ever since Israel's raid on al-Samu, be bad argued that Israel made no
distinction between Jordan and the more aggressive Arab states. 20 Tbe
king and bis senior military advisers were also convinced that the
closure of the Straits of Tiran made war inevitable. 21 Tbey were
persuaded that if war broke out between Egypt and Israel, Israel
would invade tbe West Bank no matter wbat Jordan did, since 'Israel
views tbe Arab world as one,.22 Lieutenant-General Amer Khammasb,
tbe Cbief of Staff of the Jordanian Armed Forces, was explicit:
What was of particular interest to us in the army was Israel's

intentions toward the West Bank. We did not need to ask many
questions to understand that if Israel waged war against Egypt,
Syria, or both, the West Bank was a primary target and would not
be spared.... 23
Jordanian policy bad become a self-fulfilling prophecy. To limit

domestic political dissent and regional isolation, Jordan had repeat-
edly taunted Egypt to expel United Nations' forces. After President
Nasser did so, King Hussein immediately anticipated an imminent
Israeli attack that would inevitably be directed against the West Bank
66 The Securily Dilemma in lhe Middle East
as weil as against Egyptian forces. Tbe decision to join with Egypt and
Syria in military alliance was adesperate attempt to compensate for
Jordanian military weakness.
King Hussein saw no alternative to military alliance because of the
enormous pressure of Jordanian public opinion, especially the large
Palestinian community. Sharif Zaid Ben Shaker, a cousin of the king
and then commander of the 60th Armoured Brigade, stated public1y at
the end of May: 'If Jordan does not join the war, a civil war will erupt
in Jordan,.24 Tbe king summarized the acute dilemma he faced:
Tbe atmosphere that I found in Jordan, particularly in the West

Bank, was one where, frankly we had the following choice: either to
act at the right time with no illusion of what the results might be but
with a chance to do better than we would otherwise, or not to act
and to have an eruption occur within, which would cause us to
collapse and which would obviously immediately result in an Israeli
occupation of probably the West Bank or even more ... Tbat was
really the reason why I went to Egypt to meet Nasser to his
surprise. 25
The strategic and domestic costs of inaction in a war the king

considered imminent were enormous: civil war, the loss of the West
Bank, and isolation in the Arab world. He went to Cairo not to
coordinate plans to attack, but to reduce Jordanian losses in the war
he knew was inevitable. King Hussein feIt he had nothing to lose.
In 1969, and again in 1973, Egypt went to war because its presidents
estimated adverse trends in the relative military balance with Israel,
considered that negotiation was unlikely to produce any significant
results, and faced enormous political and economic pressure at
home. 26 In a choice between two unfavourable options, the costs of
the use of military force were less than the costs of inaction.27
President Saddam Hussein's decision to initiate a war with Iran in
1980 can be explained by many of the same factors. Although he did
see an opportunity to exploit the domestic disarray in Iran, Iraq's long-
standing adversary, more important was Hussein's fear that the
Ayatollah Khomeini would attempt to export the Iranian revolution
to Iraq and destabilize the regime in Baghdad by mobilizing the large
Shi'i population in Iraq. Tbe extensive economic and military assis-
tance provided to Iraq by members of the Gulf Cooperation Council
was also motivated by fear of the domestic as weil as the strategic
consequences of an Iranian victory. Indeed, most of the major inter-
state wars in the Middle East in the last two decades can be explained
by the politics of strategic and domestic vulnerability.
WARS OF OPPORTUNITY
Wars of opportunity have been less frequent than wars ofvulnerability

in the Middle East in the past. Nevertheless, they have occurred: Iraq
was motivated in part by the opportunity to reverse the agreement
with Iran (signed in 1975) when it attacked in September 1980, and
Israel was motivated by the opportunity to deny the PLO its base in
Lebanon with its invasion in 1982. Tbe most striking recent case is
Iraq's invasion and annexation of Kuwait in August 1990. President
Saddam Hussein saw the opportunity to fulfil Iraq's long-standing
claim to Kuwait and to establish a commanding position in the
international oil market.
It is not surprising that Saddam Hussein identified an opportunity
when the local balance of capabilities in the Gulf was so strongly
favourable to Iraq. Iran was still recovering from its eight-year war,
and no other combination of Arab states in the Gulf could conceivably
match the battle-tested Iraqi army. Iraqi military power, moreover,
had been significantly augmented by Arab states, Western powers and
the Soviet Union, which were all threatened, albeit in different ways,
by the Khomeini revolution in Iran. Iraq had received substantial
amounts of financial aid from Gulf states, and sophisticated military
technology and equipment from the Soviet Union and the Western
world. Its military supremacy in the Gulf was overwhelming.
A second critical component of a war of opportunity is the
expectation by leaders that the target state will not be able to mobilize
the assistance of powerful outsiders. This condition was also met. The
United States sent confusing signals to Iraq about its likely response to
a use of force in the two weeks preceding the invasion. At a meeting on
25 July in Baghdad, the American Ambassador, April Glaspie, told
Saddam that 'we have no opinion on the Arab-Arab conflicts, like
your border disagreement with Kuwait,.28 Glaspie subsequently
testified before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee that, during
that meeting, she had also wamed several times that 'we would insist
on settlements being made in a nonviolent manner, not by threats, not
by intimidation, and certainly not by aggression ... I told him orally
that we would defend our vital interests, we would support our friends
in the Gulf, we would defend their sovereignty and integrity'.29
At worst, in the critical two weeks when Saddam was considering a

use of force against Kuwait, he was misled by American signals. At
best, to the extent that Washington did try to deter and wamed against
aggression, the waming was not credible. The President of Iraq
doubted not the capability but the resolve of the United States to
defend Kuwait. He questioned American resolve not because of the
inept strategy of the American Ambassador, but because of past
American policy. In the last several years, the United States had
courted Iraq as a counterweight to Iran and tumed a blind eye to
evidence that Hussein might be considering aggression against its
neighbours. Under these conditions, it was difficult for the United
States to make its threats credible.
Although most of the available evidence sustains the interpretation
that Saddam Hussein identified a long-awaited opportunity to assert
Iraq's claim to Kuwait, a plausible argument can be made that Iraq's
leader was motivated in part by vulnerability when he decided to
invade Kuwait. Foreign Minister Tariq Aziz, in an interview after the
invasion, explained that Iraq was stunned by Kuwait's insistence
during the negotiations that preceded the invasion that Iraq's debt
be repaid; the debt had accumulated during the war with Iran, a war
fought to defend the Gulf states as weil as Iraq. He then drew an
explicit linkage between Iraq's deteriorating economy and the invasion
of Kuwait:
The economic question was a major factor in triggering the current
situation. In addition to the forty billion dollars in Arab debts, we
owe at least as much to the West. This year's state budget required
seven billion dollars for debt service, which was a huge amount,
leaving us with only enough for basic services for our country. Our
budget is based on a price of eighteen dollars a barrel for oil, but
since the Kuwaitis began flooding the world with oil, the price has
gone down by a third ... When we met again - in Jidda, at the end of
July - Kuwait said it was not interested in any change. We were now
desperate, and could not pay our bills for food imports. It was a
starvation war. When do you use your military power to preserve
yourself?3o
To the extent that Iraq was motivated principally by opportunity,
only a clear and unequivocal commitment combined with an explicit
threat of the consequences of the use of force stood any chance of
preventing Iraq's massive use of force against Kuwait. Deterrence had
to be forcefully executed. If President Hussein was driven primarily by
Iraq's economic vulnerability, then a strategy of reassurance had to

address the issues that were central to ameliorating its acute economic
problems. Strategies of reassurance trace the source of an adversary's
hostility to its vulnerabilities and attempt to diminish that hostility by
trying to reduce the fear, misunderstanding or insecurity that are so
often responsible for escalation to war. 31 If the United States was
uncertain of Iraq's motives and intentions, as is so often the case, then
it could have used a mixed strategy of a strong and unequivocal
commitment to come to Kuwait's defence and reassurance to address
Iraq's pressing economic concems. Although it is far from certain that
a mixed strategy of deterrence and reassurance would have succeeded
had it been tried, Washington neither deterred nor reassured effec-
tively. Rather, it distanced itself from an 'inter-Arab dispute' and did
not address Iraq's concems about its growing debt and debt-servicing
charges. Under these conditions, prevention of the use of force against
Kuwait stood little chance of success.
Even after the invasion, strategies of conflict management designed
to prevent war failed. Compellence is the use of the threat of force to
convince an adversary either to undo something it has already done, or
to do something it does not wish to do. Despite the best efforts of the
Bush administration to manipulate the risk of war, and its unques-
tioned military superiority, Saddam Hussein did not back down. This
time, signals were c1ear, unequivocal and overwhelming, but the
strategy still failed. Why? Several factors were at work.
Saddam continued to doubt American resolve, not on the basis of its
military capability but rather on the basis of its willingness to suffer
casualties. In discussing the battle of Fao, which had been decisive in
the Iran-Iraq war, Saddam told Ambassador Glaspie that 'Yours is a
society which cannot accept ten thousand dead in one battle'. Drawing
an analogy to the withdrawal of American marines from Beirut,
President Hussein was persuaded that the American public would
not tolerate large numbers of casualties in a ground war.
More to the point, Saddam's calculation of the costs and benefits
was different from that of the Uni ted States. April Glaspie alleged that
Hussein ignored American threats because he was too 'stupid' to
understand what the United States would do. His stupidity or
intelligence was not the issue. Rather, the criteria he used to calculate
costs and benefits were different from those of the Uni ted States; the
political costs to him of retreat were unacceptable. After the first week,
once he was condemned by fellow Arab leaders at the summit in Cairo,
the loss of pride and honour and the humiliation of backing down
were intolerable. Saddam preferred to fight and lose rather than to pay
the personal and politica1 price of humiliation that retreat involved.
Even when threat-based strategies of conflict management are
appropriate, as they were against a largely opportunity-driven aggres-
sor like Saddam, they depend not only on superior military capabil-
ities. Each side must be roughly able to reconstruct the other's criteria
of decision. George Bush and Saddam Hussein could not cross the
cultural divide to understand the basis of the other's calculation. In the
Gulf, threat-based strategies failed to prevent both crisis and war.
These are cautionary lessons for the future management of conflict in
the Middle East.
CONCLUSIONS
Before Iraq's invasion of Kuwait and the war that followed, many
analysts of the Middle East had been quietly optimistic that the wars
which have ravaged the Middle East repeatedly were becoming less
Iikely. They identified two processes that they hoped would stabilize
the security environment of the Middle East. Tbe institutionalization
of the states in the system and the 'deideologization' of politics were
both expected to facilitate the management of security in the foresee-
able future. 32 The defeat of President Nasser in 1967 and with it pan-
Arabism, it was alleged, marked the critical watershed in the normal-
ization of the security environment in the Middle East. Even before
Iraq's invasion of Kuwait, however, evidence from the Middle Bast
since 1967 did not sustain these propositions. On the contrary, the
decades since 1967 have been marked by inter-state wars between Arab
states and Israel and then between Iran and Iraq that have been fought
at higher levels of intensity, with higher casualties, and at a far higher
cost than the wars of the preceding two decades.
The institutional stability of state structures in the Middle Bast
reduces political vulnerability only in part. The Egyptian state has
historically been the most centralized and developed, but acute crises
in the Egyptian economy nevertheless posed serious political chal-
lenges to Egyptian leaders. When political vulnerability interacted
with strategic weakness, aresort to force appeared overwhelmingly
attractive.
Similarly, the impact of the reduction in ideological conflict among
states in the Middle East has been exaggerated. Ideological conflict
encourages the formation of competing alliances that are inflexible.
This rigidity makes the security environment both more predictable,

and therefore safer, and more prone to war once oonflict begins to
escalate. Although ideological oonflict among states in- the Middle Bast
has diminished, alliance patterns oontinue to be important even when
they are driven by non-ideological forces. The alliance between Syria
and Iran, for example, had important implications for the escalation of
both the Arab-Israel and inter-Arab conflict in the last decade. It is
worth noting, moreover, that it was not the tightness but the looseness
of alliance oommitments and the oompetition for leadership of the
Arab world that fuelled escalation and war in 1967. That oompetition
for leadership continues in the wake of the defeat of President
Hussein's army in the war in the Gulf.
In the shadow of that competition, rapid processes of economic and
social change that are now underway throughout the Middle East are
likely to present new challenges to traditional political processes and
leaders. The diminution of oil revenues is likely to fuel rather than
diminish the threats to political stability that grow out of economic
crisis in the Middle East. Moreover, the prospects of redistribution of
wealth from rich to poor in the Arab Middle Bast are not bright.
Kuwait, the only oountry with extensive liquid assets, will be fully
engaged in political and economic reconstruction. Saudi Arabia,
which financed a large share of the war's oosts, had to go to the
international money markets to raise its share; even before the war, it
was running a deficit in its current accounts. Iraq will be struggling for
the rest of this decade to rebuild its infrastructure and economy. Nor
can the oil-producing states anticipate a substantial increase in the
price of oil to finance reconstruction. If anything, when Kuwait's and
Iraq's production come back on stream, OPEC will have to produce
less to maintain the price of oil. The Arab-Israel oonflict, now more
than forty years old, has bankrupted the economies of Egypt, Jordan,
Israel, Syria and the Palestinians. The war in the Gulf has bankrupted
the Iraqi economy and removed the oil-producing states as potential
donors of aid. The prospects for the management of oonflict that
grows out of inequities of wealth and resource ownership are not
bright.
Changes in the strategic environment itself are no more promising.
The proliferation of chemical weapons, ballistic missiles and nuclear
technology can play in two quite different ways. They can raise the
absolute oosts of war above a threshold that will make aresort to force
unattractive because of the autonomous risk of escalation; this reason-
ing represents the traditional logic of deterrence. On the other hand,
they are also likely to enhanee fears of strategie vulnerability,

compound the diffieulties of defence, and make rapid offence and
pre-emptive military action even more attraetive in situations of
strategie uncertainty.33 In so far as our analysis suggests that politica1
and strategie vulnerabilities have often driven the use of force in the
past, predietions of a stable strategie environment and reduetion in
inter-state warfare are, at best, premature. Traditional security is likely
to preoccupy leaders in the Middle Bast for a long time to eome.
Two caveats to this rather gloomy prognosis are in order. First, the
change in the relationship between the United States and the former
Soviet Union is likely to have both positive and negative implications
for the security environment in the Middle Bast. If the superpower
relationship eontinues to improve, Washington and Moscow are likely
to be less interested in eompeting with eaeh other in the region.
Disengagement will diminish the flow of advanced military teehnol-
ogy to the Middle Bast only marginally, however, given the multi-
plicity of suppliers. On the other hand, the two superpowers have often
acted either unilaterally or jointly to restrain the initiation and the
escalation of confliet in the past. In so far as they disengage from the
Middle Bast, their capacity to restrain will diminish as weIl.
A more important qualification is the impact of the growing costs of
war on leaders' caleulations. Strategie and politieal vulnerability have
led not only to the use of force but also at times to the aetive seareh for
negotiated solutions to hurting stalemates. 34 The absolute eost of war,
rather than relative gains or relative losses, has been one of the
important faetors motivating leaders to go to the table. 35 If wars at
unprecedented levels of intensity and destruetiveness are to be avoided
and disputes negotiated, leaders must not only fear war but also feel
reasonably secure at home and eonsider that negotiation is likely to
produce some benefit. Our analysis suggests that only the first
condition is present in the strategie environment of the Middle Bast.
The prospects of a stable strategie environment in the Middle Bast in
the next decade depend not on military or technologica1 solutions, but
on ereative attention to the economie, political and diplomatie faetors
that shape leaders' strategie caleulations.
Notes
1. For an examination of the sources of inadvertent war, see Alexander

L. George (ed.), Preventing War: Problems 0/ Crisis Management
2. See Jaek L. Snyder, 'Perceptions of the Security Dilemma in 1914', in

Robert Jervis, Riehard Ned Lebow, and Janice Gross Stein, Psychology
and Deterrence (Baltimore, Md: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985)
pp. 153-79.
3. It is normally 'cheaper' to defend than to attack. However, the economie
costs of offence are less than those of defence when states have to spend
more than one dollar on defensive forces to offset each dollar spent by the
other side on forces that could be used for attack.
4. Tbe only exception to this decision rule occurred in 1973, when Israel's
leaders considered that it had strategie depth. Tbe trade-off is clear: the
shallower Israel's strategie space, the more likely an offensive strategy
and pre-emption.
5. Robert Jervis, 'Cooperation under the Security Dilemma', World PoiWes,
30,2 (January 1978) pp. 167-214.
6. An analytically distinet but very important issue is the conditions under
which leaders miscaleulate the relative advantage of offence and defence.
Research has not yet identified these conditions.
7. See Janice Gross Stein, 'Inadvertent War and MiscalCulated Escalation:
Tbe Arab--Israe1i War of 1961', in Alexander L. George (ed.), Preventing
War: Problems o[ Crisis Management.
8. Jervis, 'Cooperation under the Security Dilemma'.
9. Iraq's armed forces numbered 188 000 in 1977, and 1000000 in 1987;
Iran's forces numbered 342000 in 1977 and 645500 in 1987, exc1uding
350000 listed as reserves; Syria's forces numbered 227500 in 1977 and
407500 in 1987; and Saudi Arabia's forces numbered 61500 in 1977 and
73500 in 1987. Israel's reserve system makes troop strength comparisons
difficult, but in tbe same period its armoured capability grew by 25 per
cent. See International Institute ror Strategie Studies (London), The
Military Balance, 1977/78 and 1987/88.
10. Tbe plan is described in detail by Trevor Dupuy, Elusive Victory: The
Arab-Israe/; Wars 1947-74 (London: MacDonald and Jane's, 1978)
pp. 240-1.
11. Even correcting for inflation, the increase in defence expenditures is
exponential. In 1967, Israel spent US$463 million, and in 1987, USS5,11O;
Egypt spent USS655 million in 1967, US$4,570m in 1987; Iraq spent
USS266 million in 1967, USSII,580m in 1987; Syria spent USSI25
million in 1967, USS3,95Om in 1987; Saudi Arabia spent USS286 million
in 1967, USSI6,23Om in 1987; and Iran spent US$480 million in 1967 and
USS6,1l0m in 1987. Tbe figures are taken from tbe International
Institute for Strategie Studies (London), The Military Balance, 1967/68
and 1987/88.
12. Janice Gross Stein, 'Caleulation, Miscalculation, and Conventional
Deterrence I: Tbe View from Cairo', in Jervis, Lebow, and Stein,
Psychology and Deterrence, pp. 34-59; 'Inadvertent War and Miscalcu-
lated EscaIation'.
13. Fred H. Lawson, 'Domestic Social Conflict and Foreign Policy in
Contemporary Syria', unpublished paper, 1988.
14. Tbe Unified Arab Command was established at the Arab summit meeting
in Cairo in 1964. It drew up a detailed plan whieh described the measures
74 The Security Dilemma in the Midd/e East
needed to improve Arab defences and offensive capabilities against Israel.

Egypt and Saudi Arabia agreed to finance the development of military
capabilities in the 'confrontation' states. Arab states were also asked to
avoid providing Israel with apretext to start a preventive war; ineluded
was the instruction that no Arab state bordering Israel should either
encourage or tolerate raids into Israel's territory. See Mahmoud Riad,
The Strugglefor Peace in the Middle East (London: Quartet Books, 1981)
p. 12; Wasfi al-Tal, Writings in Arab Affairs (Amman: Dar al-Liwa, 1980,
in Arabic) p. 326; and Samir A. Mutawi, Jordan in the 1967 War
(Cambridge University Press, 1987) p. 58.
15. Wasfi al-Tal, Writings in Arab Affairs, p. 243.
16. Radio Jordan Bulletin, 18-19 May 1967.
17. 'Statement by Shams al-Din Badran on Events Preceding the June War of
1961', Al-Ahram, 2 February 1968. Reprinted in Zuhair Diab (ed.),
International Documents on Palestine 1968 (Beirut: The Institute for
Palestine Studies, 1971) Doc. 298, pp. 319-22, p. 319.
18. In 1960, for example, the balance-of-payments deficit was US$34.7
million; by 1963, it had risen to US$171.6 million. By 1964, many
factories were operating below capacity. See Adeed Dawisha, 'Percep-
tions, Decisions, and Consequences in Foreign Policy: The Egyptian
Intervention in Yemen', Political Studies 25 (June 1977) pp. 201-26.
19. Mutawi, Jordan in the 1967 War, p. 84.
20. Mutawi, Jordan in the 1967 War., p. 100.
21. King Hussein recalls: 'I was in Aqaba when I heard of Egypt's decision to
call for the withdrawal of the international police force from Sinai and to
place the Egyptian Army in its place and to elose the Straits of Tiran. At
that particular moment I knew ... that war was imminent.... ' Hussein,
My Profession as a King (Amman: Ghaleb Toukan, 1978, in Arabic)
pp. 208-9.
22. The New York Times, 29 May 1967.
23. Interview, cited by Mutawi, Jordan in the 1967 War, p. 100.
24. Husayn, My Profession, pp. 102-3.
25. Interview of King Hussein, cited by Mutawi, Jordan in the 1967 War,
p.l03.
26. In March 1969, President Nasser launched a war of attrition along the
Suez Canal. His generals attempted to design around Israel's superior
mobility on the ground and dominance in the air. The Egyptian High
Command hoped to inflict large numbers of casualties on Israeli soldiers
in fixed positions and force a withdrawal from the Sinai.
27. Stein, 'Calculation, Miscalculation, and Conventional Deterrence I: The
View from Cairo'.
28. The transcript of the meeting between President Hussein and Ambassa-
dor Glaspie was released by the Govemment of Iraq on 12 September
and published by The New York Times on 23 September 1990. The US
State Department refused to confirm or deny its validity. On 24 July,
Margaret D. Tutwiler, the spokesperson for the State Department, was
also ambiguous. When asked whether the United States had any
commitment to defend Kuwait, she replied: 'We do not have any defense
treaties with Kuwait, and there are no special defense or security
Janice Gross Stein 7S
commitments to Kuwait'. Asked whether the US would help Kuwait if
it were attacked, she said: 'We also remain strongly committed to
supporting the individual and collective self-defense of our friends in
the Gulf with whom we have deep and long-standing ties' The New York
Times, 25 July 1990.
29. Tbomas L. Friedman, 'Envoy to Iraq, Faulted in Crisis, Says She
Warned Hussein Sternly', The New York Times, 21 March 1991, p. Al.
Glaspie a1leged that the Iraqi transcript was largely fabricated, in a way
that falsely suggested she was trying to appease Saddam.
30. Cited by Milton Viont, 'Report from Baghdad', The New Yorker,
29 September 1990, p. 91.
31. For detailed discussion ofthese two strategies and their requirements, see
Richard Ned Lebow and Janiee Gross Stein, When Does Dete"ence
Succeed and How Do We Know? (Ottawa: Canadian Institute for
International Peace and Sec:urity, 1990) Occasional Paper 8; and Janiee
Gross Stein, 'Deterrenee and Reassuranee', in Philip E. Tetlock, Jo L.
Husbands, Robert Jervis, Paul Stern and Charles Tilly (eds), Behavior,
Society, and Nuclear War (New York: Oxford UniverSity Press, 1991).
32. See, for example, Gabriel Ben-Dor, State and Conflict in the Middle East:
The Emergence of the Postcolonial State (New York: Praeger, 1983);
Fuad Ajami, 'Tbe End of Pan-Arabism', Foreign Affairs 57, 2 (Winter
1978/19) pp. 355-73; and The Arab Predicament: Arab Political Thought
Since 1967 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1981).
33. Tbe cost of a Patriot missile, for example, which was only minimally
etTective against the SCUDs during the war in the Gulf, exceeds the cost
of a SCUD by a factor of ten. This unfavourable ratio of defenee to
ofTenee compounds the international security dilemma.
34. I. William Zartman, 'Ripening Conflict, Ripe Moment, Formula, and
Mediation', in D. B. Bendahmane and J. W. McDonald Jr (eds), Perspec-
tives on Negotiation: Four Case Studies and Interpretations (Washington:
Foreign Serviee Institute, Department of State, 1986); and Ripe for
Resolution: Conflict and Intervention in Africa, 2nd edn (New York:
Oxford Univenity Press, 1989).
35. Janiee Gross Stein, 'Prenegotiation in the Arab-Israeli Conflict: Tbe
Paradoxes of Success and Failure', and 'Getting to the Table: Tbe
Triggen, Stages, Functions, and Consequences of Prenegotiation', in
Janiee Gross Stein (ed.), Getting to the Table: Processes of International
Prenegotiation (Baltimore, Md: Johns Hopkins Univenity Press, 1989).
4 Dilemmas of Security and
Development in the Arab
W orld: Aspects of the
Linkage
Ali E. Hillal Dessouki
In recent years, security issues in developing countries have been the

subject of a renewed and creative academic interest. 1 This literature
deals with the problem of the applicability of the national security
concept as developed in advanced industrial countries to the situation
ofThird-World countries. Other areas of concern include the nature of
threat perceptions and the responses needed to handle them, as weIl as
the institutional arrangements necessary to evolve and implement an
effective security policy.
Of particular interest in this context is the linkage between security
and development. Third-World countries are viewed as being different
from industrialized states because of their particular status in the
development equation. It foIlows that the 'developing quality' of
these states must have its implications for their security policy
orientation and behaviour. My concern in this chapter is to investi-
gate the linkage between security and development and the process
whereby security and development issues are defined. It underlines
some of the relations between the 'developing' status of a country on
the one hand and its threat perception and security policy on the other.
ON THE SECURITY OF THE 'DEVELOPING'
Tbe concept of security is hardly precise or self-evident, particularly

when used variously to refer to national security, regional security,
international or global security, and Western security. We also find
references to oil security, food security and resource security, thus
broadening the scope of the notion to include almost any aspect of
social and politicallife.
76
Ali E. Hillal Dessouki 77
Before going any further, three methodological caveats are in order.

First, it is widely accepted that security is a multidimensional concept
involving military, political, social and economic aspects. This legit-
imate tendency to broaden the concept of security carries the danger of
broadening it so much as to render it meaningless. A concept that
encompasses everything focuses on nothing and explains very little.
Hence the need for disaggregation and aggregation: we need to
disaggregate the concept for analytical purposes and aggregate it for
interpretation and understanding. Second, there is a need to distin-
guish between objective and subjective dimensions of security. For a
state to be secure, it is not sufficient to look at its arsenal of
armaments. We have also to investigate the orientations and beliefs
of its elite and population. The feeling of security rests ultimately in the
minds of human beings; hence the importance of political culture and
the prevailing value system. Finally, we have to make a distinction
between state security, regime security and societal security. This
remark runs against the established wisdom in security studies which
equates national security with state security. Such an identification is
understandable in advanced democratic states, where the state reflects
the needs of its population and in which citizens do choose and can
change their govemments and leaders. The situation in many devel-
oping countries is different. States do not correspond to social or
cultural realities. Regimes are established and maintained by force. In
this context, state or regime security means very little to the popula-
tion. Indeed, in certain cases authoritarian regimes and repressive
govemment policies represent immediate threats to the security and
welfare of their peoples. Thus, a threat to the survival of a particular
regime/ruling elite is not necessarily a threat to the state or society at
large.
In a strict sense, the concept of national security is linked to the
emergence of the modem European nation-state system. Surveying the
different views on national security, we can distinguish between two
broad perspectives - the military and the developmenta1. 2 The military
perspective shares three features. First, national security refers to the
defence of astate against existing and potential threats. Second,
threats are primarily perceived as being military in nature and
emanating from beyond state borders. Third, it follows that the
national security problem is the domain of the military and that its
core is the use of force. Walter Lippmann best represented the military
perspective when he argued (in 1943) that a nation is secure to the
extent to which 'it is not in danger of having to sacrifice core values if
78 Dilemmas 0/ Security and Development in the Arab World
it wishes to avoid war, and is able, if challenged, to maintain them by

victory in such a war'. 3 Tbus, the crux of security is the ability to deter
an attack or to defeat it. Tbis (military-centred) perspective was
challenged as early as 1968. In his Essence 0/ Security, Robert
McNamara equated security with development: 'securlty is develop-
ment and without development there can be no security,.4 McNamara
emphasized non-military sources of threats to developing countries
and advocated the importance of adopting corresponding security
policies. Since then, the developmental perspective on security has
become more pronounced.
Why have the development and security dilemmas conventionally
been treated separately? One reason is the traditional gap between the
study of the domestic and external spheres of state behaviour which is
reflected in a corresponding gap between students of comparative
politics and political development on one side, and those of foreign
policy and international relations on the other. For a while, domestic
structures and processes were regarded as having no direct impact on
security issues. Tbe latter were viewed as primarily being shaped by the
imperatives of international politics, balance of power, and arms
acquisition. A second reason is the liberal-bias that tends to separate
the economic and politica1-military spheres. Tbus issues of economic
development were usually studied without sufficient consideration of
their security context and sources of threat. A third reason is Cold-
War politics in which the major powers stressed the link between
security and the military posture of astate, thus emphasizing the
importance of military expenditure and alliances. Military assistance
and arms transfers became important instruments of influence and
leverage in developing countries.
THE DEVELOPMENTAL PERSPECTIVE ON NATIONAL

SECURITY
Tbe military perspective on national security is predicated on a

particular notion of the state. It assumes that the nation-state is the
main actor in a security situation. It also assumes that the state enjoys
a stable existence, having political institutions as weil as decision-
making and implementative capabilities that enable it to articulate
threat perceptions and deal with them. Finally, it assumes that the
state has the legitimacy to speak on behalf of its society, to reflect the
fears and ambitions of its citizens, and to care for their welfare.
None of these assumptions can be taken for granted in developing

countries. In most of the Third World, the state is a recent phenom-
enon; its borders were decided by colonial powers and do not represent
harmonious cultural or social formations. Many developing countries
sufTer from social fragmentation; loyalties and affinities of ethnic
groups extend beyond the state. Moreover, the absence of consensus,
sodal and political, creates serious difTerences in the identification of
threats and establishment of priorities. The low degree of institutio-
nalization and legitimacy leaves those countries with a weak capacity
to develop c1ear security policies and implement them. Further, the
intrusive international environment makes them weak and vulnerable.
The weakness of developing countries is the best guarantee for
maintaining the conditions of insecurity.s Their weakness breeds
vulnerability and encourages foreign threats.
Thus in the context of economic backwardness, political instability,
absence of policy planning or implementative capabilities, and weak
legitimacy, the military perspective on security soon became intellec-
tually bankrupt. Now it is broadly accepted that 'underdevelopment'
represents a 'constituting factor' and a frame of reference that is bound
to influence security conditions and policies. The literature usually
refers to three areas of linkage and interrelationship in this regard. 6
The contradiction between societal Jragmentation and the need Jor

security consensus
Politics is a combination of consensus and dissensus. Consensus
provides the infrastructure for sodal cohesion and the ability to act.
Dissensus is the 'moving principle' of any community which represents
existing diversity and pluralism, and creates the opportunity for
innovation and change. Societies strive hard to achieve a working
formula or stable synthesis of consensus and dissensus. Total con-
sensus results in conformity and stagnation, and total dissensus leads
to political paralysis and dangerous fragmentation.
Anational security policy, indeed any policy, requires a minimum of
consensus for its articulation and implementation. Thus sodal frag-
mentation and communal strife constitute a major threat to national
security. These conflicts weaken the state and provide the environment
for foreign penetration and intervention. Groups may request aid from
a foreign state or from affiliated communities living there, and other
states may take the initiative to ofTer assistance. When they involve
armed activities, communal conflicts exhaust domestic political cap-
abilities and deplete economic resources. In the case of civil war, it

paralyses the policy capacity of astate and makes it incapable of
formulating a coherent policy or allocating the resources for its
implementation. When a civil war engulfs a country (for example,
Sudan, Lebanon or Somalia), the very existence of the state comes into
question. Tbe state is viewed as a security liability and as an arena or
object for the security policies of other states.
We should distinguish between societal pluralism (religious, tribal
and linguistic differences) and political pluralism (interest representa-
tion in the form of political parties and interest groups). While the
former is a social assumption and is likely -10 remain a fact of life, the
latter is a political arrangement constructed by ruting elites. Tbe lack
of consensus in many developing countries is not a necessary con-
sequence of their societal pluralism, but rather the outcome of
erroneous policies of national integration. Modernizing elites were
attracted to the notion of a homogeneous citizenry as an inseparable
ingredient of state-building. In many cases, a single ethnic group
attempted to impose its own norms or values in the name of 'nation-
building', thus compounding their security dilemma. Tbus it is 'social
engineering' and political manipulation that are to be blamed for
ethnic conflicts, rather than societal pluralism itself.
The crisis o/Iow institutionalization and weak legitimacy

Legitimacy refers to the 'binding tie' (al-urwa al-wathqa) between the
ruting elite and the population. It influences the degree to which a
citizenry is ready to respond positively to official policy needs. It
determines its readiness to obey, volunteer and sacrifice. When citizens
view their national institutions and leadership as truly representative,
they are likely to accept their decisions as legally and morally binding.
In many developing countries, there is a process of eroding legitimacy
due to rapid social change, developmental failure, social injustice,
authoritarianism and lack of political pa~cipation, as weil as increas-
ing dependency on the outside.
In this context, a clear distinction has to be made between state and
regime legitimacy. Leaders may protect regime security by invoking
state security. These leaders are prone to exaggerate external threats,
or even create imaginary ones, to divert attention and remain in power.
Tbey may even be ready to create a 'zone of danger' and, in a
calculating manner, to cultivate fear in the population to make them
feel the need for state protection. Other leaders maypromote client
relations with a stronger state and get their country trapped in security
issues unrelated to its own national concerns. In other cases, we find
unpredictability and oscillations in policies.
The asymmetry between increasing population and avai/able resources

There is a link between poverty, environmental degradation and
population growth. 7 In the Middle East, for instance, population
pressure on a limited land base has become serious and a water
scarcity crisis is approaching by the year 2000. Simply stated, in
many developing countries, vital resources such as arable land,
water, energy, food and even space are incapable of satisfying the
needs of an ever-increasing population, resulting in growing poverty,
depletion of resources and a deteriorating environment. We have to
place this within the broader context of economic backwardness and
vulnerability in Third-World countries. According to the World Bank
Atlas (1988), there were sixty-one states whose average annual
percentage change in real GNP per capita for the period 1980-87
was negative, and another twenty-four states where the increase ranged
from 0 to I per cent. Among these, there were forty-five states,
representing 50 per cent of the world's population, which have a
GNP per capita of less than US$500. Moreover, forty-two states
have population growth rates (1980-87) of 3 per cent or more.
Such a situation leads to the decline of social services, unemploy-
ment, and deprivation of basic needs. The problem is aggravated by
the decline of commodity prices and world-wide inflationary pressures.
Political unrest at home and dependence on foreign countries abroad
seem to be logical conclusions. Economic hardships, accompanied by
the absence of hopes for reform and an unjust distribution of income,
lead to political instability and the ultimate delegitimation of ruling
regimes. It also leads to increasing debt burden and thorny negotia-
tions on economic adjustment with the IMF. The security implications
of these developments are self-evident.
These three elements of the developmental perspective on security
must be seen as interrelated and mutually reinforcing. One conclusion
of this analysis is the importance of non-state actors in threat
perception and security policies. Another is the link between internal
and external aspects ofsecurity. Weak states are vulnerable to external
pressures of all kinds. A third conclusion is that security threats are not
just directed at the ruling regime, but mayaiso represent achallenge to
the fundamental existence of the state and its territorial integrity. It
follows that the management of security threats in developing coun-
tries is usually accompanied by intense emotionalism. In many cases,
the threat is not perceived as state versus state but as one between
societies and peoples. Tbreat perceptions are therefore dealt with in a
crusading fever, and as a zero-sum game. Tbus security conflicts tend
to recreate themselves; they remain dormant and erupt from time to
time; and they are managed but hardly resolved because they are
viewed as being linked to historical rights or as impinging on
sovereignty.
Where does this analysis lead us? Borrowing from peace research,
security can be viewed in terms of negative and positive meanings. Tbe
negative meaning refers to the prevention of war and the existence of a
relative balance of power between states and blocs. Tbe positive
meaning refers to the termination of violence in all its forms -
physical, structural and psychological. In this view, security is a
process and condition of human self-fulfillment and social welfare.
Like peace, security promotes the values of equality, fairness and
distributive justice; its normative aspects aspire for a human world, a
world whose security ultimately rests on the quality of its social
relations. .
We should not give the impression, however, that the relationship
between development and security is linear or causal. Development
does not necessarily lead to security in all situations and, with due
recognition to non-military sources of threat to national security,
military threats have not disappeared or withered away altogether.
Tbe relationship between military and non-military sources of threats
needs further investigation. For instance, the process of development
and modernization is inherently destabilizing. It unIeashes social forces
in new directions with potential spillover to other countries. It arouses
group sentiments and may create an environment for communal
conflicts. Historically, force and violence were c10sely associated with
modernization. 8 Tbe army was viewed in many cases as the main
instrument for national integration. The promotion of a military
capability appears useful to developing countries for a number of
reasons: to deter potential adversaries, to engage in conflicts if
necessary, to enhance regional status and prestige, to quell domestic
insurgency and disturbances, and to influence the political process in
other countries.
Armament, however, has its own dynamics and many developing
countries fall prey to the vicious circle of arms races, to the detriment
of economic development. It is true that the maintenance of security
AU E. Hillal Dessouki 83
requires economic development; the latter, however, is a necessary but

not sufficient condition. Economic development cannot be separated
from policies for distributive justice as weil as avenues for political
participation. A time frame has also to be introduced; the congruency
between development and security may not be present at all phases of
the developmental process. In the early stages, there exists a gap
between a revolution of rising expectations and the ability of the
economy to deliver the needed goods and services. Political unrest may
folIowand conflict may erupt over distributive issues.
Another problem is the relation between political development
(defined as democratization) and the introduction of institutionalized
competitive politics, and security. At face value, democratic structures
are more representative and consequently more conducive to stability
and security. But in a fragmented society, political pluralism and
multipartism may lead to political paralysis and further fragmentation
(for example, Sudan and Lebanon). The problem of maintaining
democratic structures in a developing country's situation needs
further investigation.
THE SECURITY ENVIRONMENT OF ARAB STATES IN THE

1990s
In 1990-91 the Arab world went through a dramatic experience that

divided its states and people and sent shock waves throughout the
region. Tbe Iraqi invasion of Kuwait and its annexation in the name of
historical rights confronted Arab governments with an unprecedented
problem. Never before in inter-Arab politics had an Arab state
invaded and annexed another. Tbe crisis mobilized and politicized
Arab masses in some countries and created deep feelings of fear and
mistrust in others. Eventually, it led to a war in which Arab armies
faced each other. Whether this episode will represent a 'watershed' or
introduce new structural elements in Arab politics remains to be seen.
A proper analysis of the crisis/war and its impact require time,
information and distance. Tbe best we can do at this stage is to
attempt to identify the impact of the crisis/war on prior political trends
and processes in the Arab world.
So far we have examined the military dimension of the national
security problem as weil as its developmental one. We identified three
elements of the developmental dimension: contradictions between
societal fragmentation and the need for securlty consensus; the crisis
84 Dilemmas 0/ Security and Development in the A.rab World
of low institutionalization and weak legitimacy; and asymmetry

between increasing population and available resources. Using this as
a point of departure, let us look at the security environment of the
Arab states in the 1990s. We will analyse this environment in terms of
three dilemmas: the politica1-social dilemma; the resources dilemma;
and the military dilemma.
The political-soclal dilemma
The politica1-social dilemma of Arab states is a multifaceted one. In

particular, it covers two aspects of the developmental problem (that is,
the contradiction between societal fragmentation and the need for
security consensus, on the one hand, and the crises of institutionaliza-
tion and legitimacy on the other) as weil as the relationship between
domestic and regional aspects of security.
This dilemma involves two distinct, though related, sets of tensions.
First, at the domestic level, there is the potential tension between two
contradictory emerging trends and forces. One is the new spirit of
realism and pragmatism in Arab politics that reflects itself at home in
political liberalization (for example, Egypt, Tunisia and Jordan) and
economic privatization (for example, Egypt, Algeria and, to a lesser
degree, Syria). The other is confrontational in nature and is epitomized
by the rise of militant Islamic groups and the political consequences of
developmental failure in societies experiencing rapid population
increase.
These two trends apparently lead in opposite directions. Ironically,
though, some aspects of each reinforce the other. Thus, privatization
of the economy tends to create new sources of conflict, and political
liberalization provides the opportunity for their articulation. If these
trends continue, particularly in societies which experience economic
crises, increasing unemployment and heavy foreign debt burdens, we
are likely to observe more problems of political instability and threats
to the legitimacy of ruling elites. Of particular interest here is the
impact of Islamic groups on the society and polity. The basic threat
posed by these groups is moral and ideological. Islamic militant groups
have not yet developed strong organizational structures capable of
challenging ruling regimes, nor have they been able to penetrate the
army to effect a coup in most Arab countries. The immediate threat
lies in their politica1 discourse and message which is more acceptable to
the populace at large and has adefinite delegitimizing influence on
ruling elites. Their influence is enhanced by lack of political participa-
tion, political authoritarianism and the cult of the personality. It is also

compounded by deteriorating economic conditions and growing
disparities in society. Instead of dealing with the socio-economic and
psychological roots of the problem, most governments have relied on
security measures that enhance the popularity of these groups and
make them appear to be martyrs, an image on which they thrive and
flourish. Egypt, however, provides an example of a country which
follows a multi dimensional strategy in dealing with these groups,
involving cooptation, containment and repression.
The second set of tensions is between domestic trends and those at
the regional level. Thus the new spirit of realism in Arab politics was
reflected at the regional level in the de-escalation of Arab conflicts, at
least until the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait. Should this reduction in
external threats resume in the wake of Iraq's defeat, it will probably
lead to the crystallization of domestic c1eavages long suppressed or
diluted by the 'external enemy'. With the de-escalation of external
conflicts, then, domestic conflicts are likely to manifest themselves in a
more forceful and stronger fashion. More challenges to the legitimacy
of ruling elites are likely to become evident.
The domestication of conflicts is related to a more fundamental
process occurring in the Middle East, namely the maturation and
hardening of state structures. For a long time, the 'state' was perceived
as a jait colonial, and therefore was seen as a transitory phenomenon
to be replaced eventually by a broader Arab unity. The state was
besieged from the outside by callS for pan-Arabism and from the inside
by communal groups. Moreover, the rise of Arab pragmatism is a
function of the decline of pan-Arab ideology as articulated in the
1950s. It follows that the importance of pan-Arab issues as tools for
mobilization and legitimation is likely to decrease in the future.
Whether the domestication of conflicts will lead to regional stability
is an open question. Internal upheavals in key Arab states may have
external consequences. Domestic conflicts may turn out to be unma-
nageable and ruling elites may turn abroad for a scapegoat.
How much did the Gulf War have an impact on this situation? The
impact is mixed. Arab states' positions were influenced by perceptions
of national security and domestic constraints rather than by ideologi-
cal commitment. Thus, moderate Egypt and Ba'athist Syria were
members of the coalition against Iraq, while pro-Western Jordan
and Tunisia. tilted towards Iraq. The crisis confirmed raison d'etat as
the guiding principle of Arab states' behaviour. On the other side,
Saddam Hussein could mobilize a significant part of Arab opinion in
his favour in the name of Arabism and Islam. Tbe disappointment and
despair that followed the war in these quarters are likely to lead to
more domestic constraints and conflicts. Tbe confrontation between
ruling elites and Islamic groups in Tunisia and Algeria in 1991-2 is one
case in point.
1be resources dilemma
This refers to the imbalance between limited available resources and an

ever-expanding population. Tbe Middle Bast possesses some 5 per cent
ofthe world's population. It grew from 184 to 230 million in the span
ofeight years (1975-83), that is to sayan overall increase increase of25
per cent and an average annual rate of increase of 2.9 per cent. This
was accompanied by a decrease in the area under cultivation as well as
the irrigated area. It follows that food i~ports for almost all Arab
countries have tended to increase. Tbe area under cultivation ranges
from less than 1 per cent of the total area in the GCC countries to over
30 per cent in Syria. Sudan contains around 40 per cent of all arable
land in the region permanently devoted to crops. Had it not been for a
totally inadequate infrastructure and chronic political instability,
Sudan could have become the breadbasket of the Middle Bast and
Mrica.
Land is available in all countries, but the critical variable is shortage
ofwater. A study ofnatural resources in the Middle Bast concludes by
suggesting that 'even when oil is taken into consideration, there is little
doubt that land and, more importantly, water are the Middle East's
most important natural resources,.9 Water is obtained either by surface
waters or by tapping underground reservoirs. Each has its own
problems.
The region includes a number of rivers such as the Nile, Tigris,
Euphrates and the Jordan. Tbere exist a lot of problems regarding the
distribution of water between states and these are likely to become
more pronounced. For instance, there are Sudanese grievances about
the Nile treaty with Egypt (1958), and there exists no treaty organizing
the relations between countries of the Nile basin. Tbe Jonglei Canal
project in Southem Sudan represents an Egyptian-Sudanese effort to
better utilize existing resources, but due to the war in the South the
project came to a halt. Tbe Tigris-Euphrätes basin and the Shatt al-
Arab are divided between Turkey, Syria, Iraq and Iran. Also, Jordan
river water is shared by Jordan, Israel and Syria. Of less importance
are the Orontes (shared by Lebanon, Syria and Turkey) and Litani
rivers. As to underground reservoir water, the reservoirs are often in

unpopulated desert areas, or the costs are too high to make tapping the
water economical. Countries are becoming more sensitive regarding
the use of underground water. Israeli water policy in the occupied
territories is a case in point. Colonel Muammar Gaddafi of Libya's
ambitious project to create a great 'man-made river' is a different one.
As the value of water increases, the relative importa1:lce of states may
change, and water geopolitics will become a major security concern.
Ewan W. Anderson argues that 'indeed, it may be predicted with
confidence that ... water will increasingly become a key factor in
confrontations over political frontiers' in the Middle East. 10
The military dilemma
The military dilemma refers to the introduction of advanced weapons

(especially long-range missiles), the development of nuclear warheads,
and the acquisition of chemical and biological capabilities. These
developments raise a number of questions related to the stability of
conflict regimes (primarily the Arab-Israeli conflict) and/or their
resolution. For instance, will a nuclear posture maximize Israeli
security and enable it to pursue its regional objectives from a position
of strength, or will it lead Arab states to build their own nuclear
capability or acquire an equalizer in the form of chemical weapons?
This development has to be seen against the legacy of the regional
military balance between Israel and the Arab states in the last four
decades. Past experience demonstrates three important lessons. First,
in terms of integrated war capabilities, Israel enjoys more power than
any one or combination of Arab countries. The Israeli advantage is not
numerical but systemic and qualitative. Thus, even when Arab states
fought under the best of circumstances in October °1973 (concerted
Egyptian-Syrian attack, advantage of surprise, and definite numerical
superiority), Israel could turn the tide of the war to its favour. Due to
the modernization of Arab armies, however, the human and material
price for victory has tended to increase. War has proved to be more
dimcult and costly, and Israel's ability to terminate war rapidly and
with minimal costs has steadily declined. Second, until now the Arab
states and Israel have both adopted an essentially defensive conven-
tional posture which entails denying one's territory to the other,
limiting damages to oneself, and destroying the other's armed forces
on the battlefield. Neither resorted to weapons of mass destruction or,
with few exceptions, engaged in attacks on cities or civilian targets.
Tbe most important exception was the Iraqi SCUD attacks in 1991,
whose objective was to bring Israel to the battlefield, thus making the
war an Arab-Israeli one.
Tbird, Israel has developed a major military arsenal with capabilities
that extend beyond the Middle East. In the field of missiles, Israel
developed Jericho I, 11 and II-B with ranges of 500, 640 and 800km
respectively. It also developed SHAVIT, an intercontinental missile
with a range of 52QO-7200km. Moreover, Israel is cooperating with the
United States in developing the Arrow, an anti-ballistic missile system.
Israel's growing military power has enhanced Arab fears and insecur-
ity, especially when Israeli nuclear capability is taken into account.
This has been perceived by Arab states as a major threat and a further
source of the regional military imbalance. In their view, it has allowed
Israel the safety of conducting aggressive operations employing
conventional weapons. Further, there always exists the fear that Israel
will use its nuclear capability as a means of coercion, to force the Arab
states to accept certain policies. Hence the Arab search for an
equalizer. Achemical weapons (CW) capability is viewed by most
Arab states primarily as a deterrent. Tbus, Syrian CWs provide a
retaliatory capability that Israel is likely to take into consideration
when it contemplates the use of its nuclear weapons. Israel mayaiso
consider that a massive attack by conventional weapons against Syria
may provoke the latter to use its chemical weapons. In the Middle
Bast, chemical weapons and ballistic missiles cannot be separated from
the nuclear issue.
To say that, however, is not entirely reassuring. One must also
investigate under what conditions these weapons can be used. Indeed,
some were already used in the Iraq-Iran war, and their strategic
impact goes beyond the direct actors in the Arab-Israeli or Iraq-Iran
conflicts. For instance, the surface-to-surface missiles (SSMs) deployed
on Iran's Gulf coast could strike at targets anywhere on the southem
shores of the Gulf; those deployed to the north and east could reach
targets in the Soviet Union, Afghanistan, Turkey and Pakistan.
Similarly, with a range of over 4OOkm, these missiles have within
their reach a11 of Syria, parts of Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Jordan, Israel
and the Commonwealth of Independent States.
Can these weapons be used in the Arab-Israeli conflict? From past
experience it seems that CWs are used against countries which cannot
respond in kind. Both Israel and the Arab states recognize that the
other party has the ability to respond in kind. Arab states also
recognize that Israel has an elaborate defence system against CWs
and it recognizes that Israel has strong retaliation potential with

devastating consequences to an adversary using them. On the other
hand, given Israel's conventional arms superiority, the need does not
arise for the use of CWs. Hypothetically, CWs may be used in three
instances: astate may use them against a domestic foe; they may be
used against a country which does not have them; or when astate is
facing imminent collapse.
From previous experience, as long as some countries feel their
national security is at risk, they are likely to circumvent any arms
control regime. They will perceive any such arms control regime as an
imposed policy to maintain an unbearable status quo. Therefore there
is need for a formula or package of policies in which military and
political measures go hand in hand. Putting it difTerently, the process
of developing an arms control regime is not primarily a military/
technical one, but rather primarily a matter of politics. It follows that
we have to discuss a combination of political, military, diplomatie and
economic measures. It is such an interplay which can create a climate
of confidence-building. Security is a two-way process. An acceptable
regime has to respect the principle of reciprocity between adversaries in
order to satisfy the basic security needs of all. A successful arms
control regime in the Middle East thus requires progress toward a
resolution of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Military and political measures
are to be parts of the same package, which may include confidence-
building measures and peace-keeping operations.
CONCLUSION
Barry Buzan argued once that national security in developing countries

is related to the existence of strong states, and that weak states
maintain the conditions of insecurity.1I The creation of strong states
is not in itself a guarantee of national security, but the latter is not
possible without it. The argument is essentially correct but incomplete.
As the historical experience of Third-World countries demonstrates,
the creation and maintenance of strong states require a healthy
relationship between state and society, a relationship in which the
state represents the society and is capable of mobilizing its resources.
Moreover, the national security ofThird-World countries depends to a
large extent on the state of the international system. Security can be
improved only through working toward a more peace-oriented and
just order which takes into account existing asymmetries and attempts
to reshape it. This is all the more important in a transnationalized

world, in which an increasing number of problems such as polluted
coastlines, climatic extremes, chemical composition of the atmosphere,
soil erosion and deforestation cannot be dealt with by each state
independently.12
Notes
1. See, for instance, A. M. Al Mashat, National Security in the Third World

(Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1985); Saadet Deger and Robert West
(eds), De/ense, Security, and Development (London: Franeis Pinter, 1987);
Edward E. Azar and Chung-In Moon (eds), National Security in the Third
World (Aldershot: Edward Elgar, 1988).
2. On this distinetion, see my essay 'Arab National Security: A Study of
Fundamentals', Arab AI/airs (Tunisia), 35 (January 1984) pp. 6-21 (in
Arabie).
3. Quoted in Al Mashat, National Security in the Third World.
4. R. MeNamara, The Essence 0/ Security (New Vork: Harper & Row,
1968) p. 149.
5. Barry Buzan, 'Security Problems in the Third World', in Azar and Moon,
National Security in the Third World.
6. Azar and Moon, 'Legitimacy, Integration and Policy Capacity: Tbe
Software Side of Third World National Security', in Azar and Moon,
National Security in the Third World. .
7. World Development Report 1989 (New Vork: Oxford University Press,
1989) p. 45.
8. Edward A. Kolodziej, 'National Security and Modemization: Drive
Wheels of Militarization', in J. S. Mehta, Third World Militarization
(University of Texas Press, 1981) p. 46.
9. Charles G. Gudrun, 'National Resources', in Michael Adams (ed.), The
MiddJe East (New Vork: Facts on File, 1988) p. 685.
10. Ewan W. Anderson, 'Water: Tbe Next Strategie Resource', in Joyce R.
Starr and Daniel C. Stoll (ed8), The Politics 0/ Scarcity: Water in the
MiddJe East (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press 1988) p. 19.
11. Barry Buzan, 'Security Problems'; see also People, States and Fear
(Brighton: Harvester, 1983) eh. 2.
12. Jessica T. Mathews, 'Redefining Security', Foreign AI/airs (Spring 1989)
pp. 162-77.
Part Two
Underdevelopment as
Insecurity
Introduction
This book's challenge to the established or conventional paradigrn of

security studies is to show that other threats - non-military and/or
non-extemal - could be just as serious to national security. As a
corollary, the approach adopted here is that the specificities of threats
and the problems of national security of the Arab countries are a
function of the characteristics of state-building (the historical dimen-
sion) and state-society relations (the sociological dimension). Both
these historical and sociological dimensions are dominated by the
context of underdevelopment, and the attempt to achieve develop-
ment is hence fundamental - a 'conditioning situation', as Femando
Cardoso expressed it in the context of the wider Third World.
Consequently, underdevelopment/development problems are bound
to influence these countries' general political orientations, as well as
their specific behaviour, including, of course, the national security
aspects.
To assert a linkage between underdevelopment and threats to
national security - logical and expected though it might be - is not
enough. What is necessary is to demonstrate the nature and explore tbe
implications of this linkage, botb tbeoretically and empirically. Tbis is
tbe task undertaken in Part Two.
The question of development/underdevelopment - which affects
three-quarters of the states of the world and even more of its
population - obviously creates debate about its origins and the
relevance of different policies to get out of it. Thougb we do not
need to go into these myriad debates, we have none the less to deal
with what historically has been the main division in this literature, and
link it to the problems of national security. This division in the
specialized literature has pertained to two main schools (with their
subschools): that of modemization versus that of dependency/world
system analysis. 1 These two schools bave differed profoundly in their
sources of intellectual inspiration (for example, Max Weber versus
Marx-Engels), the variables they privilege (cultural-psychological
versus economic-structural), and even the policies implicitly or
explicitly proposed (evolutionary versus revolutionary).
92
Introduction to Part Two 93
UNDERDEVELOPMENT AS A CONFLICTUAL TRANSITION

TO MODERNITY
The school that came into vogue first is certainly the modernization
school.2 For this school, the emphasis is on the objective ahead:
modernization or development. The latter is defined as a process of
social change permitting the present underdeveloped cO;Jntries or 'late-
comers' to join more developed (European and North American)
countries, or 'early industrializers'. Implicitly or explicitly, then,
modernization is a process of transition to the state of modernity:
that is, industrialization or even Westernization.
Karl Deutsch, 2 in a classic article, used several indicators to develop
the same idea of transition to modernity, emphasizing its two stages:
first, the uprooting from old habits, traditions, patterns of relation-
ships and social commitments; and second, the induction of these
uprooted persons into alternative patterns of group membership,
organization and commitment.
But this 'demobilization fromjremobilization into' two-stage process
cannot - in the case of societies - take place overnight, as is
approximately the case with the drafting of soldiers. In other words,
until their remobilization into the new patterns of social commitment
and roles, people stay demobilized and in astate of 'ambivalence' and
uncertainty. This time lapse between 'demobilization from' and
'remobilization into' is aperiod full of tension and frustration. 3
According to Samuel Huntington, this frustration and the political
demands it generated, could frequently overwhelm the poorly unstitu-
tionalized political systems of the Third World. 4
Moreover, this conflictual and destabilizing process is intensified by
the specific present context of the 'late comers', and this for two main
reasons. First, the rate of change in these societies is relatively very fast.
As a measure of this rate, Cyril Black6 used the length of time
necessary for the 'consolidation of modernizing leadership'. For
instance, in England (Black's first modernizer), the 'consolidation of
modernizing leadership' stretched from 1649 to 1832, that is, 183 years;
and in the United States (Black's second modernizer), this process
stretched from 1776 to 1867, that is, 89 years. But for thirteen
countries which entered this phase of consolidation of modernizing
leadership during the Napoleonic period, the average length of time
was only 73 years. For 21 of the 26 states that began this consolidation
process during the first quarter of the twentieth century and had
emerged by the 1960s, the average was only 29 years. Data collected
94 Introduction to Part Two
by Deutsch confirms this acceleration in the rate of social change, and

he, in fact, explicates that
during the 19th century the principal indicators of social mobiliza-

tion in modernizing countries changed at about the rate of 0.1 per
cent per year, while in 20th century modernizing countries they
change at about the rate of I per cent per year. 7
Second, the contemporary modernizing countries meet - simulta-

neously ralher Ihan sequenlially - the different 'crises' of nation- and
state-building, economic development, centralization of political
authority, political participation, satisfaction of basic needs, national
integration and identity-crisis. When the country is composed of many
ethnic groups - as is mostly the case - national integration is a victim
to incommensurable competing claims, and even other issues are
increasingly politicized and 'ethnicized'. The level of intra-state
conflict is both higher and more basic.
UNDERDEVELOPMENT AS EQUALLY CONFLICTUAL

INTEGRATION INTO THE GLOBAL POLITICAL ECONOMY
The contemporary context of underdeveloped countries is also

emphasized by the alternative school of dependencY/worid system,
albeit through a different conceptuallens. The focus of this school8 is
not so much on the search for future development as on the present
state of underdevelopment and how it came about. The school's
answer to this crucial question is an emphasis on the integration and
satellization of present underdeveloped· countries into the world
economic system. Accordingly, the 'core' (that is, colonial) countries
have exploited these peripheral areas to 'accumulate'9 wealth and thus
further their own development - at the expense of present under-
developed countries. It folIows, then, that development and under-
development are two sides of the same coin. Underdevelopment is not
astate of transition, but a sui generis historical situation that could last
as long as its (external) bases continue, and as long as its remedies are
no longer available. For instance, present developed countries achieved
their advance through colonization and exploitation of other areas, but
such a pattern of development is not repeatable, even if some present
underdeveloped countries wished to repeat it.
Compared to the modernization school, the dependency/world

system school has a completely different starting point. It focuses on
underdevelopment per se and emphasizes its possible durability. But it
is different for another important reason: the level of analysis
privileged. Contrary to the modernization school with its emphasis
on the nation-state as areal whole (albeit with dual 'traditional' and
'modem' sectors), the dependency/world system school emphasizes -
by definition - the global structure and the international division of
labour. This world (economic) system is inherently unequal because of
unequal exchange lO and the multinational companies dominating
international economic relations. The dividing line is between the
industrialized or 'core' countries and underdeveloped or 'peripheral'
countries, according to Andre Gunder Frank or Samir Amin. But
Immanuel Wallerstein draws attention to an intermediate category -
the semi-periphery (such as the countries of Southern Europe, or
regional powers in the periphery: Turkey or Asia's newly-industrializ-
ing countries).
Thus, in opposition to the modernization school, the dependency/
world system perspective belittles internal processes of underdeveloped
countries which do not seem to have much autonomy of their own and
could even be derivative. It is the international context that is the
primary determinant of the present lot of these countries. Since by
definition the peripheral countries have limited power to change this
macro-strueture (Amin's view notwithstanding), the dependency/world
system school is both deterministie and pessimistie about the chances
of development for the periphery. Consequently, the so-called state of
'transition' could very well prove to be a permanent one for the
majority of these countries.
DILEMMAS OF SECURITY AND DEVELOPMENT
Their differences apart, the two prineipal sehools agree on the

prevalence of confliet in the situation of contemporary underdeve-
loped eountries. They privilege different sources of this eonfliet,
whether it is internal, cultural and psyehological or external--econom-
ie. But none of them aetually privileges the external and military threat
as the only serious threats - as the conventional paradigm seems to
believe.
But even in their differences, the two schools elucidate important
aspects of how the state of underdevelopment/search for development
creates conditions of national insecurity. For instance, the different

indicators ofwhat the modernization school called social development
(whether of industrialization or basic needs) are operationalizing some
aspects of what we called in Chapter 1 'internal fragility'. On the other
hand, premises of the dependency/world system theory, with its
emphasis on the limited manoeuvreability of Third-World countries,
elucidate another dimension of national insecurity mentioned in
Chapter I: these countries' external vulnerability. The aim, then, in
this part is to go beyond the academic cold war between conceptual
perspectives of underdevelopment/development, and to see how we can
draw on their insights. Indeed, the following chapters try to do
precisely this.
Though all of the following five chapters deal with different aspects
of the underdevelopment-insecurity Iinkage, they go from the general
to the much more specific - either thematically or nationally.
Fred Lawson opens the discussion by dealing squarely with under-
development as a conditioning situation. He emphasizes four indica-
tors and draws many examples from the different parts of the Arab
world. Throughout, Lawson attempts to link his discussion with the
conventional concept of national security (the security dilemma). He
shows how this security dilemma can feed on the situation of under-
development. He even goes further and maintains that a situation of
vulnerability heightens the possibility of inter-state conflict.
Next, Karen Pfeifer focuses on the important question of how food
security can lead to development and can hence reduce vulnerability.
To attempt an answer to this crucial question, Pfeifer compares two
Arab countries (Algeria and Egypt) and a non-Arab but Middle
Eastern Muslim country (Turkey). The two Arab countries are indeed
typical of the majority of Arab and Third-World countries which
import much of their food. The analysis is not only comparative, but
historical too, since Pfeifer tries to see why Egypt and Aigeria did not
become as self-sufficient as Turkey. She also raises the crucial question
- discussed intensely in the Arab world - about whether this self-
sufficiency is to be measured at the state level or at the regional (pan-
Arab) level. Though focusing on specific cases, the analysis is still tied
to other general strategic issues (for example, water resources); her
concluding comments about the 1991 GulfWar underscore not only the
salience of food security issues but also the broader significance of the
Arab world's subordinate placement in the global political economy.
Equally specific in terms of the theme focused upon, Michel
Chatelus analyses the problem of debt as an indicator of vulnerabil-
ity. 'A high ratio of debt to GNP' - he tells us - 'eould be used as a

security index'. Though he deals with other Third World count.{ies, his
analysis eoncentrates on Arab data and provide a very complete
pieture of Arab debt. But Chatelus is careful not to lump all Arab
eountries together. He suggests a simplified typology of six categories:
for instance, he distinguishes between oil-exporters and those who do
not export oil, and among the latter he distinguishes between the
different borrowers (government borrowers, private borrowers and
diversified ones). According to the analysis, the major problem of
seeurity and development is found among middle-ineome Arab
eountries. Though debt does not necessarily threaten a eountry's
military security and sovereignty, Chatelus indicates that debt and
the struetural adjustment policies adopted to deal with it may threaten
not only development plans but also social and politieal stability.
Tbe final two ehapters in this part are also specifie, but in a different
sense: they concentrate on specifie countries (Yemen and Kuwait). In
dealing with the problem of national integration, Manfred Wenner
attempts to show the diffieulty of maintaining political independence
when a country is situated in a region that is politieally and economie-
ally sensitive. Tbough the two Yemens have declded to 'eorrect history'
and merge again into one country, objective faetors oflaek ofnational
integration are still very apparent. Moreover, Yemen is not only in the
shadow of a regional power (Saudi Arabia), it is also very poor and the
eeonomie eonsequences of the war in the Gulf (and the repatriation of
hundreds of thousands of Yemeni guest workers from Saudi Arabia
and Kuwait) are simply disastrous.
Mehran Nakhjavani's ease study - Kuwait - is obviously very
different from Yemen at the economie level. As he demonstrates,
however, resource riehness can itself be a source of other vulnerabil-
ities. It is highly dependent on the fluetuating price of oil, and on the
foreign regulatory environments that shape its investments abroad.
Small and weak, it long adopted a 'friend to all' poliey through
'petrodollar' aid and other meehanisms. When this poliey was
replaced by a more eonfrontational economie attitude in the late
1980s, the eountry proved unable to meet the external threats this
generated - in partieular, growing frietion with its Iraqi neighbour,
eulminating in the latter's August 1990 invasion. Nakhjavani suggests
that there is a lesson in all this for other rieh but small and ultimately
weak oil states in the region.
Whether specifie or general, concentrated on a theme or a country,
eomparative and historicalor focused on an in-depth analysis of a
single case and contemporary in approach, the five chapters have one
important aspect in common. Contrary to the conventional paradigm
and its use - implicitly or explicitly - of geopolitics as the source of
conceptualization, the following chapters are rather inspired by
political economyY Rather than concentrating on traditional 'high'
politics per se, they document its 'low' politics bases and do show - as
we suggest in the first chapter - that 'low' politics could indeed be, in
the context of many underdeveloped countries, the stufT of national
security - a new 'high' politics.
Notes
1. Despite some differences between these two theoretical perspectives, they

are regrouped in this short introduction because their assumptions, world
views, and sources of intellectual inspiration overlap to a very great
extent.
2. Tbe bibliography on the modernization school is legion, and cannot
possibly be detailed here. Leonard Binder et al., Crises and Sequenees in
Politieal Development (princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1971) is
the last of aseries of volumes published by the Social Science Research
Council Committee on Comparative Politics that represented this
paradigm. More recently, Myron Weiner and Samuel Huntington edited
Understanding Politieal Development (Boston, Mass.: Little, Brown and
Company, 1987), a book which indicates the further development of the
school. Tbe main sources of this approach are critically analyzed by Irene
L. Gendzier in her Managing Politieal Change: Social Scientists and the
Third World (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1985). For two c1assic
analyses of the Middle Bast from this perspective, see Daniel Lerner,
The Passing 0/ Traditional Soeiety (Glencoe: Tbe Free Press, 1958); and
Dankwart Rustow, 'Tbe Middle East', in Gabriel Almond and James
Coleman (eds), The Polities 0/ Developing Areas (princeton, NJ: Prince-
ton University Press, pp. 369-454).
3. Karl Deutsch, 'Social Mobilization and Political Development', Ameriean
Politieal Seienee Review, 55, 3 (September 1961), pp. 493-514.
4. S.N. Eisenstadt, Modernization: Protest and Change (Englewood Cliffs,
N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1956).
5. Samuel Huntington, Politieal Order in Changing Societies (New Haven,
Conn.: Yale University Press, 1968).
6. Cyril Black, The Dynamics 0/ Modernization (New York: Harper & Row,
1966).
7. Deutsch, 'Social Mobilization and Political Development'.
8. What we said about the extensive bibliography available on the moder-
nization school applies equally to this dependenCY/world system school.
It is thus only possible to mention some basic works of the three authors
mentioned in the text. For instance: Samir Amin, Unequal Development:
An Essay on the Sodal Formulations 0/ Peripheral Capitalism (Hassocks:
Harvester, 1976); A. Gunder Frank, Latin America: Underdevelopment or
Revolution? (New York and London: Monthly Review Press, 1969);

Andre Gunder Frank, Crisis in the World Economy (London: Heine-
mann, 1980); Immanuel Wallerstein, The Capitalist World Economy
(Cambridge University Press, 1979). Functional introductions to this
literature include Magnus BIomstrom and Bjorn Heitre, Development
Theory in Transition (London: Zed Books, 1984); Ronald Chilcote,
Theories 0/ Development and Underdevelopment (Boulder, Col.: Westview
Press, 1984); and Cristobal Kay, Latin American Theories 0/ Development
and Underdevelopment (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1989); Jorge
Lorraine, Theories 0/ Development (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1989); and
Alvin Y. So, Social Change and Development (Newbury Park: Sage,
1990).
9. Samir Amin, Accumulation d l'echelle mondiale (paris: Anthrops, 1970).
10. Arghiri Emmanuel, Unequal Exchange: A Study in the Imperialism 0/
TratJe (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1972).
11. An introduction to this subfield with an ernphasis on the problems of
underdevelopment is Martin Staniland, What Is Political Economy? A
Study 0/ Social Theory and Underdevelopment (New Haven, Conn.: Yale
University Press, 1985).
5 Neglected Aspects of the
Security Dilemma
Fred H. Lawson
In addition to the anarchic interstate arena, the security environment

confronting virtually all contemporary Arab countries is shaped by
four peculiar dynamics. First, the goveming elites of most Arab
countries are still attempting to construct national identities autono-
mous of the legacy of European imperial control; in other words, for
these states, foreign policy remains intimately connected to 'state-
building' in the sense proposed by Robert Good some twenty-five
years ago. Second, the dominant coalition of social forces in each of
these countries contains a number of significant intra-regime contra-
dictions, either because it remains centred around the broad-based
coalition that led the struggle for independence, or because it
represents an alliance formed out of the overriding necessity of
addressing a wide range of economic and social problems in short
order. Third, virtually all Arab countries are what Alexander
Gerschenkron would call 'late-late industrializers', in which the state
plays a greater role in promoting or co-ordinating industrial policy
than it did in earlier industrializers. And finally, these countries stand
in a relatively dependent relationship to the world's industrial econo-
mies, from whom they receive not only manufactured goods but also
increasingly vital quantities of agricultural products. Each of these
dynamics plays a part in exacerbating the security dilemma facing the
Arab states; each merits brief elaboration.
DEMANDS OF STATE-BUILDING
Robert Good argues that the foreign policies of the countries that
became independent in the years after the Second World War cannot
properly be understood in isolation from the rigours of constructing
autonomous, legitimate polities within the territories demarcated by
the former imperial powers. In bis words, 'new states achieve juridical
recognition of statehood far in advance of their capacities to perform
as states. This is the salient fact to hold in mind when analyzing the
100
Fred H. Lawson 101
foreign poliey of a new nation. Por, frequently, foreign poliey is

reeruited to the state-building task or is intimately affected by the
immensity of that task,.1 Among the demands central to the job of
eonstrueting sovereign states in newly-independent nations, two seem
most salient with regard to foreign affairs in the contemporary Arab
world: 'foreign poliey as an effort to establish the identity and integrity
of new states' and 'foreign poliey as a means of reducing foreign
influence at home'.
Socially heterogeneous and politieally fragile as they are, new states
find it dimeult to assert a c1ear and eonvincing vision of themselves as
legitimate aetors, domestieally or internationally. Internal issues prove
partieularly intraetable, as the wide c1ass and ethnie fissures inherited
from the era of imperial administration tend to generate eompeting
notions of nationalism, only one of whieh is generally adopted by the
governing elite. 2 As a result, 'the state's legitimaey is more easily
asserted through its foreign than through its domestie policies, and it is
more apparent when performing on the international than on the
national stage. Domestie issues divide the nation and disc10se how
little developed is its eonsciousness of itself; foreign issues unite the
nation and mark it as a going eoncern,.3 Newly-independent countries
thus beeome substantially less secure whenever they are preeluded
from taking an aetive part in world affairs, and their vulnerability
grows as domestie developments generate eredible challenges to the
legitimaey of infant regimes.
Purthermore, the aetivism of the new states has tended to take a
peculiar shape: that of nonalignment with either the Western or
Eastern camp. As Good remarks, 'nonalignment presents attraetive
possibilities' to these countries: 'Alignment with a bloc means a
renewed loss of voice and identity. Nonalignment means an unin-
hibited voice, an independent role, and a sense of uniqueness partieu-
larly in relation to the former metropole,.4 Stephen Walt would no
doubt coneur, but on different grounds: relatively new states will avoid
'bandwagoning' with the great powers, since doing so significantly
reduces their individual eontribution to the outeome of local disputes.
States primarily eoncerned with preserving or enhancing their legiti-
maey as sovereign aetors can therefore be expected most often to
engage in 'balancing' in regional and global affairs. s
In addition, newer states generally find themselves 'more dependent
on the outside world than they want to be' and this dependence in
many cases grows with the gaining of formal independence. 6 In an
effort to promote eeonomie growth and social development, the
102 Neglected Aspects 0/ the Security Dilemma
governments of new states hire significant numbers of outside experts,
solicit eonsiderable amounts of eeonomie aid and eneourage the
expansion of eommereial and financial exehanges with foreign part-
ners, often on terms quite disadvantageous to local entrepreneurs. 7
This trend has the paradoxical etTect of inereasing the new polity's
vulnerability to external shocks, and thereby jeopardizing the reputa-
tion of newly-established regimes both at horne and abroad. Loeal
elites eonsequently find themselves forced to carry out a two-pronged
foreign poliey programme: on the one hand promoting diplomatie and
economie ties with a wide range of outside aetors and on the other
attempting to distance themselves from the interests and influence of
the great powers. Juggling these two priorities eonstitutes a salient part
of the security poliey of Arab states.
How this dynamie works out in praetice is illustrated by the recent
diplomatie history of Ba'athi Iraq. Immediately after taking power in
the summer of 1968, the leadership associated with Ahmad Hasan al-
Bakr adopted a stridently revolutionary foreign poliey programme,
one 'whieh was, at least on the ideologieal level, unique in its
extremism in the Arab world,.8 This programme ealled for the
ereation of a unified front made up of progressive movements
throughout the region:
This revolutionary movement, the avant-garde of whieh were the

proletariat and the revolutionary intelligentsia, would eonduet a
long-term, popular struggle against aseries of targets, imperialism
and Zionism being the first on the list. Ba'thi ideologues were
however mindful of the need to eonduet a relentless struggle against
social exploitation and social baekwardness in the Arab world, as
weil as against the institutions that kept them in existence. These
ineluded many regimes in the Arab world that were either 'reae-
tionary', or 'regional', 'reformist' and 'elitist'. 9
Amatzia Baram argues that this militant foreign poliey reflected the
severe confliets among powerful social forces that eharaeterized the
eountry's domestie polities during the late 1960s. Only after these
internal ehallenges to the regime began to "dissipate did the leadership
in Baghdad moderate its external programme, as part of an etTort to
establish a sound national (watam) basis for the vanguard mission it
expected the Ba'ath to play in inter-Arab (qawml) atTairs. During the
initial, uncertain months following the July revolution, 'mainly due to
internal diffieulties in Iraq', the party was 'driven to "raise slogans and
Fred H. Lawson 103
[commit itself to] programmes ... which were to a tremendous extent,

larger than the real capabilities of the party and the revolution'''!O
And this exaggerated programme was not simply a result of excess
revolutionary zeal: it was instead a crucial component of the efTort to
establish a legitimate claim to govem the country by a clique of
military officers hailing from a relatively peripheral district. 11
In much the same way, Saddam Hussein's ousting of al-Bakr in July
1979 took place in the context of escalating conflicts between the
Ba'athi regime on one hand and the Communist Party, Kurdish
militants and Islamist activists on the other. The Communists, while
technically still members of the governing National Front, had fallen
out with the Ba'ath the previous summer after its newspaper had
criticized the government for using inordinate force to suppress the
Kurdish insurrection and abandoning the road to socialism by
encouraging commercial and financial ties to the West. Clashes
between the party's beleaguered cadres and the regime's security
services persisted throughout the winter and spring of 1979, culminat-
ing in the Central Committee's decision to engage in armed opposition
against the Ba'ath in the immediate aftermath of Saddam Hussein's
putsch. 12 Meanwhile, the collapse of the monarchy in Iran nullified the
Algiers agreement of 1975, raising the possibility that Kurdish
guerrillas based in north-westem Iran might resurne operations
against military posts and party headquarters in the districts around
Mosul. Growing threats in the north accompanied a substantial
heightening of unrest within the Shi'i community in the south. As
Marion Farouk-Sluglett and Peter Sluglett have noted, the activities of
the clandestine al-Da'wa movement
continued to constitute a threat to the regime, although it is difficult

to determine how strong the movement actually became. Of course,
it was not so much the numerical strength of al-Da'wa that was
decisive, but rather that such an organisation could not easily be
controlled or penetrated by the security apparatus, and also that,
given the nature of the Shi'i politico-religious tradition, any Shi'i
movement could always be a potential focus of spontaneous
revoltP
Under these circumstances, the Saddam Hussein regime adopted an

increasingly bellicose posture toward the equally unstable Islamic
Republic next door and the stage was set for the outbreak of the
Iran-Iraq war in the autumn of 1980.
At the other end of the Arab world, Algeria adopted an equally
aetivist, if somewhat more moderate, foreign poliey programme during
the turbulent transition from the regime associated with Ahmad Ben
Bella to that ofHouari Boumedienne during the late 1960s. Even more
than the leadership in Iraq in the years after July 1968, the new regime
in Algiers eonfronted the diffieult task of balaneing a firm eommitment
to nonalignment against a growing need for commercial and financial
links to the industrial West. A recent overview of the objectives and
determinants of the country's foreign poliey eoneludes that
Aigeria, a revolutionary eountry that plays an aetive role in

international couneils on behalf of the Group of 77 and for the
establishment of a new international economie order, projeets a
Third World image. Yet in the 1970s, its trade relations with the
United States inereased, and its longstanding strong eeonomie
relations with Western Europe continued. Aigeria managed to have
elose economie relations with capitalist countries and flourishing
military relations with the Soviet Union.
This precarious combination no doubt produced 'ineongruence in role

eonception and performance' as weIl as 'sudden ehanges, zigzagging,
and improvisation' in Aigerian foreign relations. 14 But these ineon-
sisteneies resulted from the severe vulnerability of the new military-
based regime, whose leadership depended upon foreign poliey sue-
cesses to legitimate its seizure of power from the eharismatie soeialist,
Ben Bella.
State-building has thus ereated substantial ineentives for Arab
regimes to adopt foreign policies whieh challenge the stability of
surrounding politieal and social orders. Aetive support for movements
attempting to overthrow or reorganize neighbouring societies enhances
the legitimaey of eomprehensive societal transformation at home,
while at the same time establishing the identity, if not the reputa-
tion, of the new state in regional affairs. Such a programme does
introduce the vagaries of inter-Arab diplomaey into the domestie
politieal arena; but it also dramatieally inereases the poliey options
available to fragile leaderships. Moreover, the aetivist or belligerent
orientation adopted by regimes embarking upon the proeess of state
eonsolidation raises the stakes at risk in regional bargaining, sharply
inereasing the odds that erisis situations will escalate into inter-state
eonfliets.
Fred H. Lawson 105
INTRA-REGIME CONTRADICTIONS
Just as it was once de rigueur to speak of the growing dependence of

the industrial world upon Middle Eastern oil, so it is now fashionable
to observe that despite a number of problems looming just over the
horizon, the great majority of polities in the contemporary Arab world
have been 'stable in the last decade and a half, and that durability is
not simply an artificial vision'}S So E. Be'eri traces the marked turn
away from coups d'etat as a primary means of regime transformation
in the Arab countries, 16 while Jean Leca asserts that 'For the past
fifteen years most of the political Arab regimes can be considered
stable' and asks whether 'the evolution of the social structure, both
forming and formed by the nature of the government, [can] provide
part of the explanation for this stability'. 17 Rashid Khalidi takes a
much less sanguine view of the apparent durability of contemporary
Arab regimes: in his words, 'the current regimes have ... taken the
precaution of keeping a close watch over the military, use tight
political and party control, secret police surveillance and periodic
purges. In some cases paramilitary or parallel military forces have
been created, often drawn from a particular sect, tribe or region, to
serve as a counterweight to the regular armed forces'. 18 But as Khalidi
goes on to suggest, such measures mask smouldering c1ass tensions;
and even more importantly, the evident capacity of the state security
forces to suppress or undercut organized political resistance in
contemporary Arab societies tends to distract outside observers from
a major surce of vulnerability that continues to amict a great number
of Arab regimes: class-based conflicts of interest among the social
forces of which they are composed.
Pace Zartman and Leca, the dominant social coalition in most Arab
countries continues to consist of forces having widely divergent c1ass
interests. Such a fragile alliance can regroup tribaI chieftains, rich
merchants and Western-educated technocrats (for example, the United
Arab Emirates); a diverse collection of military officers (for example,
Syria in the 1960s and 1970s); or wealthy private entrepreneurs,
managers of state-run enterprises, trade unionists and military-police
apparatus (for example, Zine Ben-Ali's Tunisia); important magnates,
financial interests, large landholders, high-ranking officials and Nas-
serists (for example, Hosni Mubarak's Egypt); or a heterogeneous
coalition of liberal, leftist and Islamist representatives (for example,
Jordan of the early 1990s).
106 Neglected .Aspects 0/ the Security Dilemma
Fundamental intra-regime conflicts of interest such as those that

characterize present-day Tunisia, Egypt and Jordan substantially
increase the vulnerability of the dominant social coalition by opening
up the possibility that serious political challenges from powerful forces
outside the regime will result in a revolutionary transformation of the
existing social order. Tbe primary difficulty facing a country's ruters
under these circumstances lies in finding the specific strategy or mix of
strategies that can confound the country's opponents while preserving
relatively intact the mutually beneficial relations among its primary
constituents. Programmes that buttress the political position of each of
the regime's component forces but that simultaneously jeopardize the
interests of its partners in the ruling alliance exacerbate basic contra-
dictions within the domestic political arena, making it virtually
impossible for the dominant coalition to maintain its collective
dominance over opposing forces using the resources already at hand.
Tbus an activist or expansionist foreign policy is most likely to be
adopted by deeply divided regimes on those occasions when the
individual forces that constitute the dominant social coalition respond
to the threat posed by subordinate forces in a disunified or uncoordi-
nated way. Such a policy makes it possible for the country's rulers to
obtain significant additional resources that they can use to their
domestic political advantage; and it also provides the opportunity to
implement changes in the structure of the central administration that
reduce the conflicts of interest separating the forces that make up the
regime. 19
LATE-LATE INDUSTRIALIZATION
Virtually all Arab countries initiated industrialization programmes at

a much later stage in the history of the world capitalist system than did
any of the economies of Europe. Whether or not the industrial
schemes introduced into the region during the nineteenth century
had any chance of succeeding remains a hotly-debated issue among
economic historians. 20 But whatever the outcome of this debate, it
seems clear that the years after the First· World War saw the Arab
world at a considerable disadvantage relative to the large-scale, heavily
mechanized industries of Europe, North America and East Asia.
Roger Owen concludes his overview of the Middle East in the
international economy during the nineteenth century with the observa-
tion that
Fred H. Lawson 107
by 1914 there was fairly general agreement ... that political weakness
was partly the result of over-dependence on agriculture (to the
exclusion of industry) and on foreign financial institutions, and
that the only satisfactory way ahead was to use the state apparatus
to intervene more directly in pursuit of a more 'national' economic
policy.21
This decision laid the groundwork for subsequent efforts to modernize

industrial and financial enterprises throughout this region.
By the 1960s, as a result of concerted efforts undertaken by state
officials to orchestrate economic growth through central planning and
a high degree of state intervention in domestic and foreign economic
affairs, each Arab country found itself in the unenviable position of
maintaining a very large but not very efficient central administration.
According to Galal Amin, a pervasive pattern within the region during
this decade was 'the rapid growth of the public sector and of
government administration'. He continues:
Twenty years ago public ownership rarely extended beyond irriga-

tion works and public utilities and the government's share in total
expenditure did not exceed one fifth of GNP except in some of the
oil countries. By the mid-1960s this ratio had increased by 50% in
Jordan, 80% in Iraq and more than doubled in Egypt, Syria and
Kuwait. Outside agriculture, oil, retail trade, housing and small-
scale industry, the public sector is now [1974] predominant in Egypt,
Iraq and Syria and is fast growing in all except Lebanon. Outside
Lebanon and Jordan the share of public investment is nowhere less
than 50% and it is more than 75% in Iraq and Egypt. Even
'traditional' Saudi Arabia has gone a long way since the state itself
was a private enterprise. Public investment has been rising in Saudi
Arabia in recent years twice as fast as private investment (20% and
9% a year respectively) so that the two are now roughly equa1. 22
Despite the size of this apparatus and the level of resources allocated to
it, a perpetuallack of economic expertise, a low level of co-ordination
among different government agencies and a relative weakness of the
state authorities vis-a-vis both foreign interests and local economic
actors preduded the public sector from accomplishing the goals it set
for itself.
More importantly, the intimate connection between the expanding
state bureaucracy and the governing elite of each Arab country made it
increasingly difficult to disentangle the objectives of these two
(analytically distinct) social forces. In the words of G. Amin, 'top
policy-makers in the Arab world ... almost always seem ready to
sacrifice economic development if it comes in conflict either with
their gaining a political advantage or with the economic interests of
a politically influential group,.23 Thus the state has come to play an
even greater role in the industrialization of the post-war Arab
economies than it had in the late industrializing economies of
Europe.24 In fact, by the mid-1970s the central administration of
each Arab country was not only providing essential investments in
infrastructure and public works, but was also acting as the primary
'allocative agent' within most Arab economies, in addition to offering
the most severe competition to private enterprises operating in each
local market. 25 Distinguishing between close collaboration among
high-ranking officials and the managers of public sector firms and
outright corruption became more and more difficult as the decade
came to a close.26
Under these circumstances, regimes as diverse as those of Egypt,
Libya, Jordan and Saudi Arabia found themselves carrying out
fundamentally identical political-economic programmes, leaving all
of them in the untenable position of directing their economies along
parallel developmental trajectories. As Owen has noted, during the
years beginning with the oil boom of 1974-81,
whatever integration has taken place has been at a time when Arab
political divisions have intensified and when individual regimes have
been much too concemed with their own safety to risk any major
loss of economic sovereignty or control. Indeed, it could easily be
argued that one of the major political effects of oil wealth has been
to increase, not the power of Pan-Arabism, but that of the separate
states, giving them significant new resources with which to buy off
potential popular opposition with cheap food and other subsidies or,
in some cases, to finance much larger and more efficient security
forces. 27
State agencies thus became firmly entrenched within the institutional

structure of the economy in virtually all Arab countries; and a move to
alter the structure of these economies has generally been perceived as a
matter of national security.
This trend accelerated during the early 1980s when a wide range of
construction and manufacturing establishments under the direct
Fred H. Lawson 109
control of the armed forces began to play a prominent role in the

internal economic afTairs of Syria, Iraq and Egypt. In the first of these
countries, the Military Housing Establishment became by 1983-84 'the
largest firm in the country - in fact a conglomerate of sixty-six
companies employing a good half of the 150,000 workers in the
Syrian construction industry and responsible for some of the best
buildings in the country: the new international airport, the Assad
Library, the president's official banqueting hall elaborately decorated
in oriental style, the Aleppo Meridien, the sports city in Latakia used
for the Mediterranean Games of 1987, numerous schools and uni-
versity faculties and the 5,000 houses of the Assad Villages', to name
only a few. 28 Through projects such as these, the Military Housing
Establishment (Milihouse) soon eclipsed the remaining dozen or so
state construction companies and began diversifying its operations into
livestock agriculture and the manufacture of construction materials
and furniture at factories in Aleppo and Damascus. No better symbol
of the military's control of the 'commanding heights' of the domestic
economy during the mid-1980s could be found than the pervasive
presence of Milihouse and its hard-driving director, Colonel Khalil
Bahlul. The firm and its director were punished for engaging in corrupt
practices towards the end of the decade; but in early September 1989 a
re-emergent Milihouse was awarded the contract to carry out improve-
ments to the port facilities and ship repair yard at the state-controlled
harbour at Tartus. 29
Iraq's equivalent of the Military Housing Establishment is the
Saddam Military Establishment for Prefabricated Housing. This firm
represents one subsidiary of a giant holding company, the Military
Industries Commission, whose responsibilities include the production
of war materiel, the establishment of war-related industries and the
construction of such infrastructural projects as bridges, highways and
docks. In March 1988 the commission was integrated into a reconfi-
gured ministry of industry and military industrialization and its
director, Colonel Husain Kamil, accorded the status of minister. 30
Nine months later, seventy of the ministry's factories were sold to
private interests, leaving the remaining plants to concentrate on what
one official called 'strategic projects, including high-technology and
export-oriented industries,.31 These operations resulted in the launch
of an indigenously produced ballistic missile in December 1989.
In Egypt an extensive network of armaments and materiel industries
enabled the armed forces to become self-sufficient in small arms,
artillery and ammunition by the mid-1980s. Subsequent agreements
with European and American firms laid the groundwork for co-
production arrangements for the local manufacture of helicopters,
tanks and jet aircraft, and the electronic equipment necessary to
navigate them. By the end of the decade such organizations as the
Military Production Industries had moved into a number of non-
military operations, in addition to profitable areas within the agricul-
tural sector. Robert Springborg observes that the military-controlled
National Service Projects Organization 'justif[ied] its move into
agricultural production and land reclamation by the argument that
national security, for which the military is officially responsible,
depends on "food security"'. 32 The primary subsidiary of this
organization, the Food Security Division, took advantage' of the
financial resources and low-cost labour provided by the military to
become Egypt's largest and most efficient producer of such capital-
intensive items as citrus fruits, dairy products, poultry and processed
vegetables. Tbe value of such goods exceeded that of manufactured
goods produced in military establishments by the mid-1980s, and
constituted around 18 per cent of the total value of food grown in
Egypt. 33
It is thus no exaggeration to say that the late-late industrializers of
the Arab world have given virtual free rein to their military industries
as a way of promoting economic expansion and national security at
the same time. As Yezid Sayigh demonstrates in a later chapter, such a
programme entails substantial economic costs and cannot be defended
on developmental grounds alone. 34 Nevertheless, having started down
this path, each Arab state finds itself unable to curtail the operations
of its indigenous military sector, for fear that its rivals will achieve a
position of strategic advantage as a result of the technological and
productive advances such industries may offer.
ASYMMETRICAL INTERDEPENDENCE
Although it has been commonplace in the West to speak of the

growing dependence of the industrial world upon the oil-producing
countries of the Middle East, rich and poor Arab countries alike
remain substantially more vulnerable to disruptions of trade and
investment in their dealings with the industrial world than any
Western (or Eastern) industrial country is relative to the Arab
world. Tbe costs that these countries would suffer should they be
forced to look elsewhere for the goods and capital they presently
Fred H. Lawson 111
procure from industrial economies outside the region make it appro-

priate to use the notion of asymmetrical interdependence to describe
this variegated relationship.3s The Arab countries' evident lack of
success in linking together the different arenas within which they
have essential ties to the outside world despite, or perhaps because
of, the petroleum embargo implemented by the Organization of Arab
Oil-Producing Countries in 1973-74 has perpetuated their economic
subordination to the industrial economies of Europe: North America
and East Asia.
Four trends indicate the continued dependence of contemporary
Arab economies upon the industrial West and East. In the first place,
virtually all Arab countries import greater quantities of manufactured
items than they do capital goods. In 1970, machinery made up just
over 37 per cent of the total value of Algeria's imports, around 27 per
cent of Egypt's, just under 33 per cent of Saudi Arabia's, and a little
more than 18 per cent of Syria's. These figures improved slightly over
the following decade: by 1980, machinery continued to represent some
37 per cent of Algeria's imports and 27 per cent of Egypt's, but had
risen to almost 39 per cent of Saudi Arabia's, and to more than 21 per
cent of Syria's (see Table 5.1). But subsequent years saw a marked
decline in the importation of capital goods into the Arab world. Data
for 1987 - the most recent figures available - show that machinery
accounts for just over 29 per cent of Algeria's total imports, just under
36 per cent of Saudi Arabia's, and little more than 19 per cent of
Syria's. Egypt managed to raise its total to slightly more than 28 per
cent in 1987, after hovering around 25 per cent in 1985-86.
This trend in part reflects the turn away from import-substitution
industrialization made by most Arab governments during the late
1970s and early 1980s; but it is also a consequence of the rising cost
of state-of-the-art industrial equipment, particularly machines pro-
duced in the West. A recent survey of Syrian manufacturing notes
that increases in the value of the country's imports have been 'mainly
due to a big rise in fixed assets, mainly equipment', with the result that
'the Syrian economy is increasingly burdened by the pressures of
imports of production requirements'. 36 Similarly, in post-infitah
Egypt, 'many of the firms complained about the rising costs of
imported inputs needed to operate their imported machines,.37 By
the summer of 1989, Iraqi officials were making persistent requests to
the United States govemment to raise its ceiling on medium- and long-
term loan guarantees so that both public and private enterprises could
contract for greater supplies of 'high-technology US goods particularly
112 Neglected Aspects 0/ the 8ecurity Dilemma
Table 5.1 Machinery as a percentage of total imports
1970 1975 1980 1984 1985 1986 1987
Algeria 37.1 39.9 36.9 31.9 33.3 33.7 29.2

Bahrain 29.9 18.8 15.0 17.9
Egypt 26.6 20.5 27.3 28.7 25.0 25.4 28.2
Iraq 28.8 41.0 54.4
Jordan 16.9 31.8 27.9 20.6 20.2 20.8 20.7
Libya 29.6 34.3 38.0 36.8
Morocco 31.7 28.7 21.2 19.8 18.1 26.0
Saudi Arabia 32.7 41.0 38.9 41.6 38.0 35.8
Sudan 26.6 32.0 28.7
Syria 18.1 28.8 21.3 15.6 22.1 19.3
Tunisia 26.2 32.4 23.3 31.0 26.6 25.6 22.4
North Yemen 8.6 15.6 27.7 25.4 26.6
Austria 31.2 29.8 28.9 28.3 30.1 34.0 34.8
Hungary 30.6 31.7 29.3 26.1 27.4 28.3 30.7
South Korea 29.7 26.3 22.4 32.0 34.5 34.5 34.6
Source: UNCTAD, Handhook 0/ International Trade and Development

Statistics 1988 (New York: United Nations, 1989) Table 4.2.
computers in oil and refining, industry, agriculture and healthcare, as

weIl as for capital goods and raw materials,.38 And along with state-of-
the-art equipment often comes the need to import the engineering and
managerial talent necessary for its efficient operation. Among the Gulf
states, for example, 'the goal of creating ever-increasingly sophisticated
high-technology industries (espoused particularly in Saudi Arabia)
seems to imply greater rather than less reliance on foreign skilled
expertise' .39
A more complex pattern characterizes the value of foodstuffs
coming into the Arab world from outside suppliers in the years after
1970. The proportion of total imports accounted for by food products
rose sharply for Algeria and Egypt between 1970 and 1980, while
Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Syria, Tunisia and North Yemen dramatically
reduced this percentage. During the later 1980s, Egypt and Tunisia
were able to reduce their reliance on imported food; Algeria and Syria
continued to suffer increases; and Jordan and Saudi Arabia found
themselves able to maintain a relatively constant ratio of imported
foodstuffs to total imports (see Table 5.2). These figures are somewhat
distorted by the efforts undertaken by the Egyptian and Tunisian
governments to promote domestic production of high-value agricul-
Fred H. Lawson 113
tural products such as fruit, nuts and livestock, which had the efTect of
dampening demand for imported fruit and meat products.
Table 5.2 FoodstufTs as a percentage of total imports
1970 1975 1980 1984 1985 1986 1987
Aigeria 12.7 21.7 21.0 19.2 25.4 22.0 27.4

Bahrain 20.4 6.4 6.9 6.2
Egypt 23.2 35.9 32.4 27.7 27.1 30.0 27.3
Iraq 17.7 17.5 14.6
Jordan 31.0 22.4 18.2 19.7 18.8 21.8 19.0
Libya 22.6 17.1 19.3 16.0
Morocco 20.7 29.6 19.8 20.5 17.5 15.9
Saudi Arabia 32.9 15.6 14.1 12.0 15.5 14.7
Sudan 21.3 18.7 25.9
Syria 28.6 21.4 14.2 14.5 19.8 18.8
Tunisia 27.9 18.7 13.7 15.8 14.1 14.4 11.9
North Yemen 62.6 45.5 28.4 32.0 25.8
Austria 9.5 8.2 6.4 6.5 6.4 6.5 6.0
Hungary 10.7 8.4 8.3 7.2 6.9 7.2 7.2
South Korea 17.2 14.2 9.8 6.8 5.8 5.7 5.0
Source: UNCfAD, Handbook 0/ International Trade and Development

If one considers the quantity of basic foodstufTs coming into Arab

markets, one finds a notable rise in the amount of cereals imported
into virtually all Arab countries over the last few years. For Egypt,
Jordan and Syria, this increase has been particularly pronounced; for
Iraq, Morocco, Saudi Arabia and Tunisia, temporary reductions in the
quantity of basic foodstufTs coming in from the outside during 1986
were reversed during 1987, resulting in substantial increases for the
two-year period as a whole. Only Aigeria and (surprisingly enough) the
Sudan registered declines in the amount of cereals imported into their
respective markets during these years. 40
Third, most Arab economies remain heavily concentrated both in
terms of the range of products they export and in the number of
trading partners to whom they send their goods. According to
ca1culations made by the United Nations Conference on Trade and
Development, Iraq, Libya and Saudi Arabia are among the thirteen
most concentrated exporters in the Third World. Only four Arab
countries - Tunisia, Jordan, the Sudan and Morocco - have concen-
tration indices smaller than that of the most eoncentrated 'developed'

exporter - South Afriea - while only Morocco has an index smaller
than that of the most eoncentrated West European eountry - Norway
(see Table 5.3). Within the region itself, Egypt, Syria, Tunisia and
North Yemen posted marked inereases in the level of export eoncen-
tration between 1970 and 1985; Aigeria alone among the more
industrialized Arab countries managed to reduce its level of eoncen-
tration during this period. Consequently, the Arab world in general
finds itself highly vulnerable to shifts and disruptions in its trading
relations, especially those with the rieher industrial eountries.
Finally, tbe Arab eountries have found themselves forced to devote
more and more of the loan monies they receive from external sources
to the repayment of already-outstanding debts. As recently as 1980, the
interest due on Tunisia's existing loans represented just under half of
the totalloan monies eoming into tbe eountry, while Jordan and Egypt
were devoting less than two-thirds of their loans to pay ofT existing
debts. At the other end of the scale, Aigeria's payments represented
some four-fifths of the loans entering the eountry, while Syria was
turning almost all of its new funds into interest payments on out-
standing obligations (see Table 5.4). By 1987, however, Algeria, Egypt
Table 5.3 Export concentration indices
1970 1985
Iraq .938 .968

Libya .999 .924
Saudi Arabia .837 .887
Bahrain .544 .802
Yemen Arab Republic .563 .663
Egypt .442 .541
Algeria .652 .536
Syria .401 .503
Tunisia .260 .406
Jordan .374 .371
Sudan .639 .345
Morocco .282 .257
Austria .081 .081
Yugoslavia .095 .095
South Korea .271 .193
Source: UNCTAD, Handbook 0/ International Trade and Development

Fred H. Lawson 115
Table 5.4 Capital accounts (in $ US millions)
1970 1975 1980 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987
Algeria
loans 84.0 1707.1 3106.7 2763.4 3016.6 3300.9 3956.0 3762.8
payments 72.0 404.3 2488.5 3374.8 3339.5 3250.1 3528.9 3634.8
% 85.7 23.7 80.1 122.1 110.7 98.5 89.2 96.6
Egypt
loans 325.0 1161.9 1861.2 1498.7 1777.3 1835.8 1427.7 1362.8
payments 312.0 570.7 1166.1 1680.5 1320.2 1561.6 1485.2 1258.1
% 96.0 49.1 62.6 112.1 74.3 85.1 104.0 92.3
Tunisia
loans 85.0 185.8 481.6 689.5 702.2 660.0 767.3 713.7
payments 49.0 88.6 235.6 347.4 373.1 398.0 525.6 671.1
% 57.6 47.7 48.9 50.4 53.1 60.3 68.5 94.0
Jordan
loans 8.8 154.4 659.6 869.3 748.8 834.8 765.5 796.3
payments 3.9 34.4 413.2 347.6 623.5 491.5 632.9 616.9
% 44.3 22.3 62.6 40.0 83.3 58.9 82.7 77.5
Syria
loans 43.0 88.6 587.0 655.3 754.4 348.3 367.2
payments 33.0 98.3 577.9 466.1 465.4 454.9 168.9
% 76.7 110.9 98.4 71.1 61.7 130.6 46.0
Source: UNCTAD, Handbook 0/ International Trade and Development

and Tunisia had aIl reached the point at which interest payments made
up more than 90 per cent of the loan monies coming into their
respective economies; Jordan had increased its ratio of interest
payments to new loans to more than 75 per cent, while Syria may
weIl have found itself in the position of owing more in interest
payments than it had new loans coming in.
Under these circumstances, Arab governments have become less and
less able to influence the terms and conditions under which they receive
funds from outside sources. In the autumn of 1988, the authorities in
Algiers abolished subsidies on a wide range of foodstufTs and other
staples in exchange for USS350 billion in short-term credits from the
International Monetary Fund (IMF) and World Bank. This move,
combined with tight restrictions on imports, sparked strikes in
116 Neglected Aspects 0/ the SecUrity Dilemma
Algeria's larger cities that escalated into aseries of riots in early
October. President Chadli Ben Jadid proposed significant changes in
the structure and jurisdiction of the governing National Liberation
Front as a way of placating the rioters, but at the same time made it
clear that 'outside circumstances made any basic change in Algeria's
economic policies impossible'.41 Tbis chain of events was repeated in
Jordan six months later: as part of a plan required by IMF officials to
enable it to reschedule US$8.1 billion in foreign debts, the government
in Amman announced sharp increases in the price of fuel and other
basics. Tbe announcement touched off five days of rioting in Maan,
Karak and Salt, wbich prompted King Hussein to dissolve the cabinet
and arrange for national parliamentary elections; but the new govern-
ment still found itself bound by the terms of its predecessors'
agreement with the IMF and initiated severe cuts in state expenditure
in an effort to preserve access to US$7S0 million in stand-by credits.42
Less dramatic but arguably more typical is the case of Egypt.
Throughout the summer and fall of 1989, officials in Cairo imple-
mented a number of measures designed to increase government
revenues and deregulate the structure of the country's interest and
exchange rates. These moves were warmly endorsed by IMF repre-
sentatives, who hinted that agreement on "more favourable terms for
rescheduling and refinancing approximately a quarter of Egypt's
outstanding foreign debt was in the offing; new loans were also
promised by the World Bank and the US Agency for International
Development, contingent upon the signing of a Letter of Intent
between the Mubarak Govemment and the IMF team in Cairo. But
such optimism faded as the winter dragged on, and by early February
1990 IMF officials began insisting on more comprehensive reforms in
the loca1 economy than those proposed by Egyptian negotiators. Tbe
government responded by raising prices on fuel, cooking oil, flour,
sugar and rice in early May. Nevertheless, the IMF continued to
demand the imposition of new taxes, an end to housing subsidies and
the curtailment of credits to public sector industries and state-run
agricultural co-operatives before a new repayment schedule could be
ratified. 43
Outside lenders and investors enjoy added leverage in their dealings
with Arab govemments as a result of the persistent inability of the
latter to attract bigher levels of foreign direct investment into the
region in recent years. At the start of the 1980s, Algeria, Egypt,
Jordan, Morocco, Tunisia and North Yemen had succeeded in
drawing sizeable amounts of such investment into their respective
Fred H. Lawson 117
economies. But by the second half of the decade, Algeria had become
a net exporter of investment capital, while investments in Jordan,
Morocco, Tunisia and North Yemen had dropped off dramatically;
only Egypt showed an inerease in direct investment during the late
1980s. Consequently, local governments found themselves unable to
manipulate existing relationships with foreign firms in an effort to
drive a harder bargain with institutions sueh as the IMF and World
Bank.44
There is considerable disagreement in the literature on international
relations concerning the impact tbat higher degrees of asymmetrical
inter-dependence have on the foreign policies of relatively dependent
states. Some analysts expect that countries finding themselves in an
inereasingly disadvantageous position compared to others will redou-
ble their efforts to aehieve autonomy or self-suffieieney, thereby
reducing their wlnerability or susceptibility to outside control; others
expect states that find themselves heavily dependent upon outsiders to
abandon their attempts to reduce their vulnerability to trends in the
international market as efforts along this line grow more eostly and
appear almost certain to fail:" Still others see no determinate relation-
ship between asymmetrieal interdependence and specifie foreign poliey
programmes: Harrison Wagner, for instance, argues 'that being
asymmetrically less dependent than one's partner is neither necessary
nor sufficient to exercise influence in abilateral relationship. It is not
necessary because a weaker aetor with intense preferences on one issue
may make great concessions on other matters to attain its objectives. It
is not sufficient because in equilibrium, with the terms of agreements
fully reflecting bargaining power, even a more powerful aetor will not
exercise influence on a partieular issue if doing so requires concessions
on other issues that outweigh its gains,.46
Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye adopt a less indeterminate
position regarding the eonnection asymmetrical interdependence/for-
eign poliey. In their view, 'asymmetrical interdependence can still be a
source of power in bilateral relationships' since 'less dependent aetors
will be able to make bargaining concessions at lower cost than more
dependent aetors' .47 Whether this cireumstance enhances or undercuts
the power of less dependent states remains unclear. 48 Nevertheless, we
can assume that states occupying a relatively dependent position in the
international arena will find it harder to protect themselves from
threats to their vital interests and will thus be forced to exert more
effort and expend more resources to ensure their security than those
who enjoy a relatively autonomous position.
Furthermore, and precisely because they are becoming increasingly
subordinate to the dictates ofthe world economy, dependent states can
be expected to adopt more risky foreign policies in crisis situations,
resulting in a greater potential for conflict in both inter-Arab affairs
and relations between Arab states and extra-regional actors. Adopting
a more competitive or agressive foreign poliey does little to jeopardize
the already-preearious struetural situation eonfronting most Arab
govemments, and may, in fact, provide them with opportunities to
improve their strategie position as the instability genera ted by regional
crises opens unforeseen possibilities to rearrange the politieal-eeonom-
ie order to their own advantage. In partieular, episodes of eonfliet have
tended to prompt hesitant allies (most notably the Uni ted States and
the Soviet Union) to make greater diplomatie and economic support
available to their respective clients, at least in the short term. A
pronounced trend towards asymmetrieal interdependence in relations
between Arab states and the outside world therefore poses a profound
challenge both to the security of the individual states concemed and to
the stability of the Middle East as a whole.
THE EXPANDED SECURITY DILEMMA IN THE ARAB

WORLD
Robert Jervis argues that the seeurity dilemma confronting sovereign

states in an anarchie environment is eompounded whenever strategie
eireumstances provide eaeh of them with incentives to strike first or
otherwise escalate a erisis situation. 49 Such incentives are most
compelling whenever offensive weapons or strategies have an advan-
tage over defensive ones, or whenever it proves impossible to
differentiate offensive weapons or strategies from defensive ones.
Under these eireumstances, programmes undertaken by any one
state in an effort to enhance its own security directly jeopardize the
security of others, prompting the others to respond. The operation of
this dynamie leaves the first state less secure than it was at the
beginning, setting the stage for arms races and other forms of confliet
spirals.
Arab states are subject to the security dilemma in their dealings with
one another, in their relations with outside powers and in their
confrontation with Israel. Since all Arab regimes share the vulnerabil-
ities ereated by the state-building process, intra-regime eontradietions,
late-Iate industrialization and asymmetrieal interdependenee, any
Fred H. Lawson 119
attempt on the part of one of them to reduce these vulnerabilities

directly threatens the relative security of others. In other words, given
the structural circumstances in which Arab states find themselves at
the present time, they cannot all simultaneously pull themselves out of
their relatively insecure international position without threatening one
another's interests. Consequently, policies intended to minimize these
vulnerabilities adopted by any one regime precipitate efforts on the
part of others either to counteract or to undercut those policies. In the
first case, all countries end up no more secure relative to one another
than they were before, despite having allocated considerable amounts
of scarce resources to security-producing programmes; in the second,
resources devoted to such programmes go to waste, or end up being
diverted to overt conflict with competing regimes. Either way, this
process mirrors that of the more conventional security dilemma, but
on a substantially broadened playing field.
Por example, in attempting to consolidate its position within Iraqi
society by pronouncing itself opposed in principle to the continued
existence of the monarchical regimes of Saudi Arabia, Jordan and the
smaller Arab Gulf states, the Ba'athi leadership that seized power in
Baghdad in 1968 immediately incurred the active hostility of these
governments, who closed ranks against it to block the spread of both
its political programme and its ideological influence. Throughout the
late 1960s, the Gulf states put aside a variety of dynastie and territorial
quarreIs in the face of persistent Iraqi activism. Bahrain, for instance,
cultivated better relations with both Saudi Arabia and Qatar, finally
calling for greater levels of military co-operation among the smaller
Gulf states and proposing the construction of a causeway linking the
islands with the eastern Arabian mainland. These overtures led to joint
Saudi-Bahraini military exercises along the Gulf littoral in June
1975. 50 By the early 1970s, the Iraqi Ba'ath began to express regrets
over its earlier militancy, admitting that the alienation of the country's
neighbours 'was a costly price to pay for the unwavering (or in their
own words, inflexible) adherence to one's long-term vision,.sl But this
change of heart failed to convince the Gulf emirates to mend fences
with Baghdad, and it was only with the outbreak of the Iran-Iraq war
in the autumn of 1980 that relations between these two camps achieved
some degree of normality.
Similarly, Egypt's efforts during the mid-1970s to promote economic
development by building a local arms industry pushed its rivals for
leadership in the Arab world to take steps to undercut the strategie
advantages it was likely to gain from such a programme. Several
neighbouring regimes responded by creating large-scale military
sectors within their own economies: Iraq, for instance, inaugurated
its military-industrial complex as a direct response to that of the
Egyptians. The rise of these alternative arms producers seriously
jeopardized Cairo's capacity to achieve a profitable rate of return on
its investments through export sales to surrounding countries. Other
governments took a completely different tack: Saudi Arabia jumped at
Cairo's invitation to become a major investor in the Arab Organiza-
tion for Industrialization (AOI). This conglomerate was to serve as a
vehic1e whereby Saudi capital, Western military technology and
Egyptian skilled labour could unite in manufacturing sophisticated
weaponry under the terms of licensing agreements negotiated between
the Egyptian authorities and armaments firms based in Europe and
North America. By becoming a founding partner in this venture,
Riyad was able to retain a substantial degree of influence over the
day-to-day management of AOI, as well as over its planning for the
future. The continuing strategic importance of this connection is
evident in the Saudis' quiet moves to restore e~~ir ti es to the
organization, which were severed in the wake of the Camp David
accords. S2
Each of the trends has a differential impact on the states of the
contemporary Arab world. The differential impact of each dynamic is
evident on the one hand over time: Arab countries find themselves
more vulnerable at some times than at others, and the degree of
vulnerability of each country is constantly changing. On the other
hand, these trends have a differential impact across different countries:
some Arab states find themselves in a more advantageous position
relative to others at any given moment, and the distribution of relative
advantage or disadvantage is also constantly changing. The c1earest
illustration of these principles is provided by the regional diplomacy of
Iraq during the course of the 1980s, particularly on the eve of its move
into Kuwait in 1990. The regime of Saddam Hussein reiterated its
commitment to curtail autocratic rule and extend the scope of popular
participation at horne throughout the 1980s as a way of buttressing
public support for the war effort against the Islamic Republic. This
campaign culminated in the Revolutionary Command Council's
promulgation of a draft constitution in July 1990 that mandated
general elections for the presidency of the republic, the establishment
of competitive political parties, a new national assembly and the
protection of individual citizens from unwarranted searches and
seizure. By instituting a liberal democratic system of government, the
Fred H. Lawson 121
Ba'athi regime may have simply been flaunting its hegemony within
the domestic political arena; but it also efTectively undermined the
position of the Ba'ath as a vanguard party organized along Leninist
lines. Saddam Hussein's statement in August 1986 that the Iraqi
people's virtually unanimous support for the war efTort had made
the 'police state' obsolete and laid the foundation for a 'people's state'
further jeopardized the national project initiated by the July 1968
revolution. 53
At the same time, the programme of economic liberalization
adopted by the regime during the last two years of the war with Iran
had begun to disrupt relations between the public sector and the
country's growing collection of private manufacturers, entrepreneurs
and commercial agents. Tensions between the relatively ponderous
state economic organizations and the more dynamic private enterprises
both created notable shortages of labour in the heavy industrial sector
of the Iraqi economy and sparked rising inflation throughout the
country. The regime attempted to meet these difficulties by encoura-
ging the expansion of public and private export industries, negotiating
aseries of short-term loans from West European banks and providing
a range of incentives to outside investors, particularly those from other
Arab countries. This programme, which represented a wholesale
abandonment of the principles and practice of Ba'athi socialism,
generated severe splits within the dominant social coalition; during
the spring of 1989, the chief of the secret police, Fadil Barrak, was put
under arrest, while the Minister of Defence was killed in a suspicious
helicopter accident. Splits between state planners and private interests
may even have been exacerbated by ties the latter had developed
during the war years: Charles Tripp suggests that 'relations between
Saddam Husayn and the private capitalists might be soured by mutual
suspicion. Saddam Husayn might fear that this "class" had established
close personal and financial links with external financial sources,
especially in the Gulf states, to which Iraq would be nominally heavily
in debt, due to the loans of the war years'.S4
Furthermore, as a result of the war, state intervention in the
domestic economy assumed a greater importance for national security
than ever before. As noted earlier, the director of the Military
Industries Commission, Colonel Husain Kamil, was appointed minis-
ter of industry and military industrialization in the spring of 1988,
following his successful supervision of the public sector's moves to
develop a sophisticated electronics and aeronautics branch. The
execution of British journalist Farhad Bazoft indicated the lengths
122 Neglected Aspects 01 the Security Dilemma
Baghdad was prepared to go to protect the secrecy of its ehemica1 and

nuelear research programmes even after the ceasefire with Iran in the
late summer of 1988.
Moreover, the first half of 1990 saw a marked increase in the degree
of Iraqi dependence upon external suppliers for a wide range of vital
resources. Imports of industrial equipment and spare parts, particu-
larly by the private sector, continued to grow, while the United States
became Iraq's largest trading partner, thanks to sharply-rising pur-
ehases of US government-subsidized wheat and other foodstuffs. ss
When the US Congress cut the amount of subsidies available to Iraq
by half in May, Bagbdad proposed to borrow USSI billion from a
eonsortium of European banks to finance food shipments from other
sources. S6 At the end of July, the Ministry of Trade announced a
substantial inerease in monies allocated for the importation of goods
used in private assembly plants; additional funds were put aside for
this purpose in early August. S7 Tbe growing reliance on outside food
and industrial goods both boosted Bagbdad's need for the hard
eurrency it derived primarily from oil exports and fuelled Baghdad's
suspicions that foreign powers - in partieular the United States - might
manipulate the flow of vital produets into the domestie arena in an
attempt to gain a strategie advantage in Gulf affairs. Kuwaiti
intransigenee at Jiddah on 1 August no doubt eonfirmed Iraqi
anxieties and persuaded Saddam Hussein and his colleagues to strike
south before Iraq's strategie position deteriorated even further.
CONCLUSION
Struetural accounts provide a useful starting point for explaining

trends in inter-Arab relations. By emphasizing the efforts of Arab
statespeople to maximize the security of their individual states in the
anarehie regional arena, sueh studies avoid many of the pitfalls
awaiting those who look at this part of the world througb lenses
focused on the activities of the great powers or on the Arab-Israeli
confliet. SB But security in the eontemporary Arab world entails a
considerably wider range of issues than it does in sueh regions as
Western Europe, whose member-states for the most part enjoy
relatively well-established state institutions and benefit from interna-
tional struetures of asymmetrieal interdependence. For Arab leaders,
the eireumstances ereated by their states' relative youth, by the
contradietions that permeate the dominant social coalitions within
Fred H. Lawson 123
their respective societies, by the high level of state involvement in their

respective countries' internal economic afTairs and by their respective
economies' relative dependence upon the industrial world for goods
and capital essential to the success of programmes intended to further
industrialization and economic growth, combine to exacerbate the
perennial problems of protecting national sovereignty and parrying
threats to vital interests.
Furthermore, what Leon Trotsky might call the combined and
uneven development of these four dynamics generates continuous
changes in the position of contemporary Arab states relative to one
another. Tbe conjunction of these trends not only nlises the level of
competition among regional actors, making the security dilemma
much more dangerous and saHent; it also confounds the relatively
straightforward efTects of the external security environment, pushing
both the policies of individual Arab states and interactions in the inter-
Arab arena in directions that a conventional structural explanation can
neither anticipate nor satisfactorily explain.
Notes
1. Robert GoOO, 'State-Building as a Detenninant of Foreign Policy in the

New States', in Laurence W. Martin (ed.), Neutralism and Nonalignment
(New York: Praeger, 1962) p. 5.
2. Iliya I. Harik, 'The Ethnic Revolution and Political Integration in the
Middle Bast', International Journal 0/ Middle Bast Studies 3 (July 1972).
3. GoOO, 'State-Building', pp. 7-8.
4. GoOO, 'State-Building', p. 8.
5. Stephen Walt, The Origins 0/ Allianees (Ithaca, NY: Comell University
Press, 1988) pp. 17-33.
6. Good, 'State-Building', pp. 10-11.
7. Theodore H. Moran, Multinational Corporations and the Polities 0/
Dependenee (princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1974) pp. 163-4.
8. Amatzia Baram, 'Qawmiyya and Wataniyya in Ba'thi Iraq: The Search
for a New Balance', MiddJe Eastern Studies, 19 (April 1983) p. 188.
9. Baram, 'Qawmiyya and Wataniyya in Ba'thi Iraq', pp. 188-9.
10. Baram, 'Qawmiyya and Wataniyya in Ba'thi Iraq', p. 188.
11. Marion Farouk-Sluglett and Peter Sluglett, 'From Gang to Elite: The
Iraqi Ba'th Party's Consolidation of Power, 1968-1975', Peuples
Mediterraneens, 4O (July-September 1987).
12. U. Zaher, 'The Opposition', in Committee Against Repression and for
Democratic Rights in Iraq, Saddam's Iraq (London: Zed Books, 1986)
p.155.
13. Marion Farouk-Sluglett and Peter Sluglett, Iraq sinee 1958 (London:
KPI, 1987) p. 199.
14. All E. Hillal Dessouki and Babgat Korany, 'Foreign Policy Proc::ess in the
Arab World: A Comparative Perspective', in Korany and Dessouki et al.,
The Foreign Polieies 0/ Arab States (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1984)
p.328.
15. I. William Zartman, 'Introduction', in Adeed Dawisba and I. William
Zartman (OOs), Beyond Coereion: The Durability 0/ the Arab State
(London: Croom Helm, 1988) p. 2.
16. E. Be'eri, 'Tbe Waning of tbe Military Coup in Arab Polities', Middle
&stern Studies, 18 (January 1982).
17. Jean Leca, 'Social Structure and Political Stability', in Dawisba and
Zartman (OOs), Beyond Coereion, p. 164.
18. Rasbid Kbalidi, 'Social Transformation and Politieal Power in tbe
Radical Arab States', in Dawisha and Zartman (oos), Beyond Coereion,
p.209.
19. See Fred Lawson, Socia! Origins 0/ Egyptian Expansionism (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1992) eh. 2; Lawson, 'Syria's Intervention in
tbe Lebanese Civil War, 1976: A Domestie Confliet Explanation',
International Organization, 38 (Summer 1984).
20. See Roger Owen, The Middle &st in the World Eeonomy 1800-1914
(London: Methuen, 1981) eh. 2.
21. Owen, The Middle &st, p. 293.
22. Galal Amin, The Modernization 0/ Poverty (Leiden: Brill, 1980) pp. 84-5.
See also Nazih Ayubi, 'Arab Bureaucracies: Expanding Size, Changing
Rotes', in Dawisha and Zartman (eds), Beyond Coereion.
23. Amin, Modernization 0/ Poverty, p. 60.
24. On the latter, see James R. Kurth, 'Tbe Political Consequences of the
Product Cyele', International Organization, 33 (Winter 1979).
25. Michel Chatelus, 'Policies for Development: Attitudes toward Industry
and Services', in Hazem Beblawi and Giacomo Luciani (eds), The Rentier
State (London: Croom Helm, 1987) pp. 113-14.
26. Springborg, Mubara/c's Egypt (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1989), eh.
3; Yahya Sadowski, 'Ba'thist Ethics and the Spirit ofState Capitalism', in
P. Chelkowski and R. Pranger (OOs), Ideology and Power in the Middle
&st (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1988).
27. Roger Owen, 'Tbe Arab Oil Economy: Present Strueture and Future
Prospects', in Samih Farsoun (ed.), Arab Soeiety (London: Croom Helm,
1985) pp. 18-19.
28. Patriek Seale, Asad: The Struggle /or the Middle East (Berkeley, Calif.:
University of Califomia Press, 1988) p. 449.
29. Middle &st Eeonomie Digest, 8 September 1989.
30. Middle &st Eeonomie Digest, 26 March 1988.
31. Middle East Eeonomie Digest, 9 December 1988; Yezid Sayigh, 'Iraq's
ambitions: arms producer and regional power', Middle East International,
19 January 1990, pp. 17-18.
32. Springborg, Mubara/c's Egypt, p. 112.
33. Springborg, Mubarak's Egypt, p. 113.
34. See Chapter 10 in this volume.
35. Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye, Power and Interdependenee (Glenview,
Ill.: Scott, Foresman, 1989) pp. 8-19.
Fred H. Lawson 125
36. Issam el-Zaim, 'As Deficient Manufacturing and Reduced Aid Heats Her
Economy, Syria Boosts Primary Exports', unpublished manuscript, p. 16.
37. Nemat Shafik, 'Private Investment in Egypt under the Infitah', unpub-
lished manuscript, November 1988, p. 17.
38. Middle Bast Eeonomie Digest, 25 August 1989.
39. 'Tbe Gulf wakes up to reality', The Middle Bast, 174 (April 1989) p. 9.
40. FAO, Trade Yearbook 1987 (Rome: FAO, 1988), Tables 37, 38 and 42.
Perhaps increases in the amount of food assistance shipped to the Sudan
took the place of food purchases made in earlier years.
41. George JofTe, 'Tbe background to the riots in Algeria', MiMle Bast
International, 21 October 1988, p. 16.
42. Lamis Andoni, 'Jordan: Poor prognosis', MiMle Bast International, 9
June 1989, pp. 10-11.
43. Max Rodenbeck, 'Egypt: Mubarak the mediator', Middle East
International, 4 August 1989, p. 13; Rodenheck, 'Egypt: Demands for
change', Middle Bast International, 2 March 1990, p. 11; Sarah Gauch,
'Egypt/IMF: No-one wants to give ground', The Middle Bast, 187 (May
1990) pp. 34-5.
44. IMF, International Finaneial Statisties Yearbook 1989 (Washington, DC:
IMF, 1990). See also Moran, Multinational Corporations and the Polities
of Dependence, eh. 6.
45. See Amold Wolfers, Discord and Collaboration (BaItimore, Md: Johns
Hopkins University Press, 1962), eh. 7; David B. Yoffie, Power and
Protectionism (New York: Columbia University Press, 1983); Robert L.
Rothstein, The Weak in the World of the Strong (New York: Columbia
University Press, 1977) eh. 8; Erling Bjol, 'Tbe Small State in Interna-
tional Politics', in A. Schou and A. Brundtland (eds), Small States in
International Relations (New York: Wiley Interscience, 1971); and
Stephen D. Krasner, Structural Confliet (Berkeley, Calif.: University of
CaIifomia Press, 1985).
46. Wagner's thesis is summarized in Keohane and Nye, Power and
Interdependence, p. 252.
47. Keohane and Nye, Power and Interdependence, p. 252.
48. See Tbomas SchelIing, The Strategy of Confliet (Oxford University Press,
1960) chs 2 and 5.
49. Robert Jervis, 'Co-operation under the Security Dilemma', World
Polities, 30 (January 1978).
50. Fred Lawson, Bahrain: The Modernization of Autoeraey (Boulder, Col.:
Westview Press, 1989) pp. 126-7. .
51. Baram, 'Qawmiyya and Wataniyya in Ba'thi Iraq', p. 191.
52. Joe Stork, 'Arms Industries ofthe Middle Bast', Middle East Report, 144
(January-February 1987) p. 13.
53. Charles Tripp, 'Tbe Consequences of the Iran-Iraq War for Iraqi
Politics', in E. Karsh (ed.), The Iran-Iraq War: Impact and Implieations
(New York: St Martin's Press, 1989) p. 63.
54. Tripp, 'Consequences of the Iran-Iraq War', p. 75.
55. Midd1e East Economie Digest, 26 January 1990.
56. MiMle Bast Eeonomie Digest, 8 June 1990.
57. Middle Bast Economie Digest, 27 July and 3 August 1990.
58. In addition to Walt, The Origins 0/ Alliances, see Alan Taylor, The Arab
Balance 0/ Power (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1982); and
Paul C. Noble, 'The Arab System: Opportunities, Constraints, and
Pressures', in Korany and Dessoulci et al., The Foreign Polieies 0/ Arab
States. Substantially different but equally notable is James Piscatori,
Islam in a World 0/ Nation-States (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1986).
6 Does Food Security
Make a Difference?
Algeria, Egypt and
Turkey in Comparative
Perspective
Karen Pfeifer
Turkey is able to feed its population out of its own agrieultural

produetion, while Algeria and Egypt, more typical of countries of
tbe Arab Middle East and Nortb Afriea, require large annual
importations of food in order to meet domestie demand. This raises
several questions. How did this situation eome about? Were not
Algeria and Egypt, like non-Arab Turkey, primarily agrieultural
eountries until recently'l Is tbere any bope tbat tbe situation for
Algeria and Egypt will be reversed in the near future? Does Turkey's
more favourable food situation give it more economie security as a
nation and therefore more control over its national destiny'l
An examination of the experience of these three cases can then be
belpful in addressing some of the larger questions facing agrieulture in
tbe Arab world. It is also intimately tied to various strategie and social
questions. One strategie question is the availability and distribution of
water resources and their tecbnological connection to other inputs in
tbis dry region of tbe world. A seeond strategie question is tbe
distinetion between securing freedom from bunger for the majority
of tbe population and securing tbe politieal success of the eurrent
regime. A tbird is tbe link between food seeurity and eeonomie
liberalization: does suecess in the latter, with its requisite eontraetion
of state responsibility for producing and distributing food, enbance or
detraet from food seeurity?
Perbaps tbe most basie question of all is wbether 'food security'
means a country's self-sufficieney in food produetion, or its financial
ability to procure enougb food to feed its population despite tbe
vieissitudes of tbe world trade in food. 1 Gbanem El-Kbaldi provides
127
128 Does Food Security Make a Difference?
data which predict that the Arab World may be self-sufficient by the
year 2000 in the production of tuberc1es, vegetables and fish, and c10se
to self-sufficient in barley, pulses, fruit and eggs, but that its own
production will at best cover just 72 per cent of dairy products, 67 per
cent of oils, 61 per cent of maize, 58 per cent of meats, 56 per cent of
sugar and rice, and just 48 per cent of wheat. 2
EI-Khaldi and his co-author, Adda Guecioueur, have an approach
sympathetic to others such as AtifKubursi, Faycal Yachir and Rabah
Abdoun, who favour defining food security in terms of the region's
(not necessarily the individual state's) ability to feed itself.3 Other
authors, in particular Alan Richards and John Waterbury,4 who
understand the political desirability of food self-sufficiency for the
region and who are not enamoured of the World Bank-International
Monetary Fund vision of a single world market in agricultural
commodities, are sceptical of the realism of this goal and concern
themselves with the political and social implications of trying to reach
it, as well as the technical problems and economic pressures the goal
entails. We will return to this debate after a discussion of the
experience of our three case studies.
DIFFERENT AGRICULTURAL POLICIES, DIFFERENT

OUTCOMES - BUT THE SAME OLD DEBT
The ability of each of our three countries to feed their populations is a

product of their past history and government policy toward agriculture
as part of an overall development strategy.
Turkey
Long before the notion of a government providing a coherent

'development strategy' became established, the government of Turkey
had a policy of favouring and protecting agricultural producers. This
was part of the political scheme of Turkish society even under the
Ottoman Government in the nineteenth century. In the twentieth
century, this policy was continued and strengthened under the
republican governments, as part of an agriculture-Ied strategy of
economic development. S
In the agriculture-Ied strategy, the government protected land-
holder security, starting from a base in the nineteenth century of a
relatively egalitarian distribution of small holdings, and thus prevented
Karen Pfeifer 129
a high degree of differentiation, by size or by degree of commercializa-

tion, offarms in most regions ofthe country. It provided technological
support, most notably the campaign to spread the use of tractors and
other machinery widely throughout the countryside in the decade after
the Second World War. It instituted credit, marketing, tax and price
policies which favoured higher incomes for agricultural producers and
did not create disincentives to producers of basic foodstufTs (such as
wheat) for the domestic market, even while incentives were provided to
farmers producing crops (such as cotton and tobacco) for export. The
results, as can be seen in Tables 6.1 and 6.2, were that the agricultural
population of the country was stabilized (as compared to other
developing countries)6 and agricultural output grew in tandem with
domestic demand. Indeed, Turkey was, and is, an exporter of food-
stuffs (see Table 6.3).
Table 6.1 Agricu1tura1 population
Turkey Egypt Aigeria
Rate of growth of
population, 1980-87,
average % per year 2.1 2.7 3.1
Rate of growth of
agriculturallabour,
1980-87, average %
per year 0.2 1.3 0.4
AgricuItural population
as % of total popula-
tion, 1986 48 43 26
Agricu1tural labor force
as % of agricultural
population, 1986 47 27 23
Source: FAO, 1988, Tables 2-1 (p. 46) and 2-2 (p. 65) and annex tables 11
(pp. 144-5) and 12a (pp. 146-7).
In the ideal version of this strategy, the higher incomes of farmers

would generate both higher demand for industrial output, as the
standard of living rose and commercialization of agricuIture pro-
ceeded, and higher volumes of savings to be channelled into invest-
ment in industry. Meanwhile, agricultural export revenues could be
used to purchase necessary imports for the industrialization process.
Table 6.2 Agricultural production and food supply
Turkey Egypl Aigeria

Share of agriculture
in total GOP, %
1987 17 21 12
(1965) (34) (29) (15)
Agricultural production,
average % growth per
year, 1980-87 2.2 2.6 4.5
Index of food production,
1987 (1979-81 = 100) 115 132 132
Index of food production
per capita, 1987
(1979-81 = 100) 100 111 106
Per capita dietary
energy supply, 1983-85 3102 3280 2669
Source: World Development Report, 1989, Table 3, pp. 168-9; FAD, 1988,
Tables 2-1 (p. 46) and 2-5 (p. 65), and annex tables 2 (pp.lI5-16)
and 13 (pp. 150-1).
Thus a fully successful agriculture-Ied development strategy implies an

overall development programme with industrialization growing apace
on the heels of agriculture. Turkey's model of economic nationalist
development, with the aim of becoming a modem nation similar to
those of Western Europe, entailed just such avision.
Turkey's development scheme was not fully successful, however,
because the country could not finance its industrialization solely out of
domestic savings or the surplus from agriculture. Rapid modem
industrialization cannot be accomplished without the purchase of
raw materials and technology, and capital equipment from abroad.
It also requires the growth of an urban wage-Iabour force which has to
be paid to purchase basic commodities such as food. If the industrial
wage bill is to be kept down, then the prices of those basic
commodities have to be kept relatively low; this is impossible at the
same time that the prices of those commodities are being kept high to
encourage agricultural production, unless the govemment can find the
funds to maintain subsidies. Where to find the funds? Turkey, Iike
many other developing countries, turned to foreign investment first
and international borrowing second to meet these expenses, with the
Karen Pfeifer 131
expectation that profits to foreign investors and debt-service to foreign

lenders would be paid out of the growing agricultural and industrial
output that resulted.
Table 6.3 Agricultural exports and imports
Turkey Egypt Aigeria
Index of value of
agricultural exports,
1984-86 (1979-81 = 100) 114 104 47
Agricultural exports as
% total exports, 1986 32 18
Total S value of exports,
1980-86, average % change
per year 20.0 11.6 -0.5
Total S value imports,
1980-86, average % change
per year 14.0 16.7 3.2
S value agricultural
imports, 1980-86, average %
change per year 76.0 8.5 7.3
Agricultural imports as
% of total imports, 1986 7 33 20
Share of total imports
financed by agricultral
exports, 1986, % 21 7
Source: FAO, 1988, Tables 2-1 (p. 46) and 2-5 (p. 65) and annex tables 11
(pp. 144-5) and 13 (pp. 150-1).
When the terms of trade turned against Turkey, as happened in the

mid-1970s, and Turkey was not able to expand exports to simulta-
neously pay for necessary imports for industrial production and keep
up its debt service payments, it experienced aseries of foreign-
exchange crises and severe economic recessions, which in turn led to
political upheavals, coups d'etat and major shifts in govemment policy.
Turkey's agriculture-first strategy, in spite of achieving national self-
sufficiency in food production, could not prevent these crises. Turkey
could not avoid growing international indebtedness, reschedulings of
debt via the IMF, and the necessity of imposing IMF-sponsored
stabilization programmes, including the abandonment of its econom-
io-nationalist strategy, which affiicted so many developing countries in

the late 1970s and 1980s.7
Egypt
Egypt, like Turkey, has a long-standing predilection for financing

industrial and other economic development out of the surplus
produced in agriculture. Since the 1950s, however, these policies have
served to discourage production of basic foodstutTs for the domestic
market and to undermine, perhaps permanently, the ability of
Egyptian agriculture to feed its population.
Unlike Turkey, republican Egypt inherited an agricultural system
with highly concentrated landholdings and a mass of poor landless
peasants, alongside a group of self-employed middle peasants. This
endowment was altered through a broad agrarian reform in the 1950s,
which destroyed the agricultural base of the old elite without seriously
providing land to the landless, and which bolstered the economic
position of the middle-sized independent holders. At that time, Egypt
was still a net exporter of grains and still had the ability to feed its
population out of domestic production.
However, modem Egypt also inherited an agriculture dominated by
cotton production for export, a legacy that skewed economic devel-
opment policy away from support for production of basic foodstutTs
for the domestic market. Tbe development strategy adopted in the
1950s entailed continuing to produce and seil cotton on the world
market and using the proceeds to finance industrialization. Tbe state
became the agent which collected the cotton, sold it on the world
market, and used the proceeds as investment capital to be allocated to
various industries and to infrastructure projects, including massive
irrigation and land reclamation schemes to enhance agricultural
production. At the same time, this industrialization programme was
faced with rising wage bills for urban industrial and service workers,
with food as a key component in the wage-goods package.
Tbe Egyptian govemment's attempt to manage this process involved
detailed control over relative prices. First, the state set quotas and
output prices for certain controlled agricultural products, cotton and
grains in particular, which played a key role in this scheme. The state
procured the cotton at low producer prices and then sold it on the world
market for a profit. Similarly, state agencies procured wheat at low
producer prices and then required that bakers seil the bread at prices
below what the market would have determined. Tbe agencies made up
Karen Pfeifer 133
the difTerence through subsidies to the bakers, a process which over time
contributed to the accumulation of large government budget deficits.
Egyptian farmers, secure in their landholdings thanks to the
agrarian reform, responded by shifting as much as possible out of
production of the controlled commodities and into production of the
non-controlled farm products, such as berseem (a clover used as
animal feed), fruits, vegetables, meat and dairy products. Although
Egyptian agriculture overall did not stagnate (see Tables 6.1 and 6.2 on
pp. 129 and 130), Egypt became less and less able to feed itself out of
its production of basic foodstufTs from the late 1950s until the present.
Growing volumes of imports and food aid made up the shortfall (see
Tables 6.3 on page 131, and 6.4).
Table 6.4 Cereal imports and food aid
Turkey Egypt Algeria
Cereal imports,
metric tons, OOOs
1987 624 9326 3823
1974 1276 3877 1816
Ratio 1987/1974 0.49 2.40 2.10
Food aid, cereals,
metric tons, OOOs
1986-87 3 1977 4
Source: World Development Report, 1989, Table 4, pp. 170-1.
The solution for Egypt, as for Turkey, relied partlyon the country's
ability to borrow on the international capital markets to finance those
budget deficits. Egypt did increase its receipts from the export of other
commodities, namely oil revenues, Suez Canal dues (after the reopen-
ing in 1975), tourist expenditures and remittances of workers abroad,
but those increases were not sufficient both to pay for increased
imports of food and service the international debt. Egypt, Iike
Turkey, has had bouts of foreign exchange crises and debt reschedul-
ings through the IMF, and has come under intense pressure from the
IMF, the World Bank and the USAID programme to reform its
economy so as to eliminate the controls on prices paid to farmers
and the subsidies used to keep urban food prices down. 8
The Egyptian government, whether under Anwar Sadat or Hosni
Mubarak, has not been able to bring itself to impose the stark
reductions in subsidies required by the usual IMF stabilization pro-

gramme for chronically indebted developing count ries. Both the
Egyptian govemment and its financial backers, the IMF and tbe
United States, fear the recurrence of bread riots such as bappened in
1977, and the rise of popular forces critical of the intervention in
national afTairs that tbe presence of the IMF and USAID represent.
On the other hand, there has been no sign öf a group willing to impose
martiallaw and political repression in order to force an IMF stabiliza-
tion programme on the economy, as happened in Turkey in the 1980s.
Another critical factor in Egypt's case is the availability of imported
food, much of it through the United States' food aid programme. 9 This
food, and the US aid programme in general (up to US$2.6 billion a
year in 1987), slowed the rate of growth of Egypt's foreign debt as weil
as helping to feed tbe population. However, it has also enabled the
Egyptian govemment to continue subsidizing urban food prices and
tbus discourage a more rapid increase in domestic food production. It
is a self-reinforcing institution: the availability of grain imports,
especially through food aid rather than full-price purchase, promotes
dependence on continued food imports. Tbis is politically advanta-
geous to the United States, Egypt's most important aid supplier, and
shows no signs of disappearing soon.
A1geria
Like Egypt, independent Aigeria was saddled with a colonial agricul-

turallegacy that conditioned its development strategy in such a way as
to discourage sufficient growth in basic food production in most of the
period after independence. Tbe best agricultural lands had been used
by the European settlers to produce for export to Europe. Aigerian
agricultural producers ranged from commercial farmers producing
grains for the domestic market to small-scale peasants and landless
agricultural labourers eking out an existence on the margins of the
cash economy.
After independence, the former European holdings were converted
into 'self-managed' state farms, but were treated, as the Egyptian
govemment treated the cotton producers, as an easy source of low-
priced output. Low output prices and the low level of investment in
agricultural technology and equipment, as weil as the social and
political problems swirling around the 'self-managed' model, left tbese
farms to stagnate. At the same time, the private sector of Aigerian
agriculture, little changed from what it had been under French rule,
Karen Pfeifer 135
received minimal financial support from the government. UnHke

Turkey and Egypt, agriculture in Algeria was not seen as a source of
surplus to serve as the basis of the economic development programme.
Agriculture became less and less important in the Algerian economy,
as Tables 6.1 and 6.2 (see pp. 129 and 130) indicate.
Algeria had oil and natural gas, it turned out, and the republican
government turned all its attention to using the proceeds from the sale
of these commodities on world markets to finance an industrialization
campaign. When these proceeds turned out to be not quite enough,
and international bankers were ofTering loans to creditworthy devel-
oping countries at reasonable interest rates, Algeria, like Turkey and
Egypt, turned to borrowing to pay for the difTerence.
The first industries to be established were the basic producer-goods
industries: oil-refining, of course, along with steel and machinery plants.
The plan was to follow this phase with a second phase of development
of intermediate and consumer goods industries. Agriculture limped
along, and figured very Httle in the original plans of the 1960s, except
in so far as prices for agricultural output were held down, as in Egypt, to
help keep down the size of the urban wage bill. As in Egypt, this served
to discourage food producers from expanding output ..
It was not until the 1970s that an agrarian reform was announced.
Its impact on land distribution was actually minimal; its real potential
was in its ability to create the input and marketing cooperatives, with
credit and inputs at low prices and a rational structure of output
prices, that would have encouraged farmers to expand production for
the domestic market. However, it was an underfinanced programme,
with too Httle in the way of real investment in agriculture, especially as
the bills for the importation of industrial technology came rolling in.
In the meantime, the rate of growth of food production had fallen
behind the rates of growth of both the population in general and the
urban industrial population in particular. The combination of these
two meant growing food shortages in the late 1970s. As in Egypt,
burgeoning food imports became the order of the day. Tables 6.3 and
6.4 (see pp. 131 and 133) show the results of this process.
Just as the Algerian government under Chadli Ben Jadid began to
rethink priorities regarding industry versus agriculture, the interna-
tional market for oil and gas went into a tailspin, leaving the country
bereft of sufficient foreign exchange for food imports and debt service.
As in Egypt, the Algerian government in the 1980s came under
increasing pressure from the IMF and creditors to let urban food
prices rise toward their market-determined levels, but, as the October
1988 street demonstrations and confrontations with police showed,

this was not an easy solution. While the changed incentive structure
stimulated agricultural producers within Algeria to produce more for
the domestic market (see Table 6.2 on page 130), it also entailed
curtailment of food imports and a fall in the standard of consumption
of urban workers. Algeria pledged to the international banking
community that it would continue to service its debt, but from 1986
to 1989 that meant a negative rate of economic growth and a falling
standard of living overall. As with Turkey and Egypt, the only way
'out' seems to be a rescheduling of debt and an IMF stabilization
programme, with more foreign aid and more foreign investment
invited in to help cover the shortfalls. 10
Is there bope for Egyptian aad A1gerian apiculture?
In both Egypt and Algeria in the 1980s there has been some
improvement in food production for domestic consumption, but still
not enough to catch up with the growth in demand. 11 Tbe improve-
ments have come about partly because of the reduction or elimination
of government procurement quotas for basic foodstuffs and rising
prices paid to producers. Furthermore, following the usual free-market
prescription of the IMF, gradually and without fanfare due to its
politically sensitive nature, subsidies to urban consumers have been cut
in real terms, simply by the govemment's subsidy increases failing to
keep up with the rate of inflation. A worrying aspect of this process is
that the burden may be inequitably distributed, falling more heavily on
those low-income consumers who cannot pay higher priceS. 12
Equally problematic, however, for considerations of equity, is that
this policy cuts two ways, in that the pressure is on the govemments
also to cut subsidies on inputs to agriculture, especially the increasingly
expensive imported ones, unless it decides to favour agricultural
exporters with special incentives such as tax relief. Tbe IMF does
not seem to consider this a violation of free-market principles; indeed,
it even encourages this as a policy, though it certainly does consider
subsidies to urban wage earners a violation of free markets, and urges
their removal. Be that as it may, the economic reality is that those
agricultural producers with capital reserves of their own, or who are
able to obtain scarce credit, will have the advantage.
On the macro level, another concern arises. Continuing to use scarce
foreign exchange for these imports (agricultural machinery, fertilizer,
irrigation equipment and construction of big irrigation facilities such
Karen Pfeifer 137
as dams) implies that other expenditures for imports must be curbed,

or that more international debt must be taken on. Tbe hope by both
the Egyptian and Algerian planners is that eventually agricultural
exports will rise sufficiently, assuming attractive prices on the world
market, to pay for agriculture's share of this import and debt-service
burden. Until that happens, both countries will remain on the
international creditors' debtors-in-danger list.
Is there a danger that Turkey will lose its privileged position?
Starting in 1980, Turkey shifted its policy towards free-market

principles in agriculture. Turkey too was required by its IMF-
sponsored stabilization programme to move towards market-deter-
mined prices for both agricultural outputs and inputs, and to favour
exporters by providing them with incentives such as tax benefits and
targeted credit. Tbe rise in exports was intended to help cover the
shortfall in Turkey's balance of payments. And help it did, but
certainly not enough to solve the debt-service problems Turkey
continues to face. The plan also entailed opening the previously
protected Turkish market to imports of food.
Tbe face of Turkish agriculture seems to be changing as a result. As
Tables 6.2 and 6.3 (see pp. 130 and 131) show in startling fashion, we
see relative stagnation in production of basic foodstuffs for the
domestic market, and the growth of both imports and exports of
agricultural products. Tbanks to its indebtedness, Turkey is now
dependent on the sale of agricultural exports. Furthermore, while
Turkey was still able in the late 1980s to feed its population out of
its own production of basic foodstuffs, it is importing food in much
greater quantities than ever before. Similar to Egypt and Aigeria,
much of this rise in imports is food to feed higher-income urban
consumers, who prefer more animal protein and less grain in their diet.
Like Egypt and Aigeria, Turkey is not projected to produce enough of
this kind of food to meet the demand and will become increasingly
import-dependent in at least this dimension of its food supply.13
INTERPRETATION
There are two lessons to be drawn from these three stories. First,
despite its ability to feed its population, to have food security in the
absolute sense, Turkey has fallen prey to the debt trap and been folded
into the international trade system just as fully as the food-import-

dependent countries. Tbe international system seems to be working in
such a way in the latter part of the twentieth century that no country
can develop autarkhically, with its national market protected from the
world market. Tbus the narrow definition of food security may be
obsolete and unworkable. 14 Second, if 'food security' is defined in the
broader sense as a country's ability to pay for the feeding of its
population without fear of starvation, then Egypt and Algeria are
no worse off than Turkey.
How, then, can the countries of the Arab world proceed to enhance
their food security in the first sense, and then, considering the limits to
that approach, also pursue food-security in the second sense? A
convincing case can be made that a significant increase in attention
to and investment in agriculture is due in the Arab world. Some
practical changes have already been made and have shown beneficial
results in various countries in the 1980s. Tbe governments of both
Egypt and Algeria have allowed farm product prices to rise, and
increased the share of agriculture in investment spending and credit
allocations, with some improvements in output, as was seen from in
Table 6.2 (on page 130). There are also success stories to be told in
Jordan's introduction of drip-irrigation in the Ghor; in Saudi Arabia's
superabundance of subsidized wheat output; and in the growth of food
production per capita in other Arab countries besides Egypt and
Algeria: compared to 1979-81, average food production per capita
in the 1985-87 period had grown 5 per cent in Iraq, 8 per cent in
Jordan, 9 per cent in Morocco, 14 per cent in Tunisia, 15 per cent in
North Yemen, and 109 per cent in Saudi Arabia. 1S
Arguments for an agriculture-led development strategy have become
more influential in recent years. Kubursi, for example, points out that
despite the oil wealth of some Arab states, agriculture remains an
important source of exports as weIl as of employment and domestic
income in many countries. 16 Tbe currently-industrialized Western
countries did not industrialize first and then develop their agricul-
ture; the transformation of agriculture came first. Why should the
Arab governments think that they can bypass this critical phase of
economic development? Even the former Soviet Union, on whose
industrializing-industries model many Arab development plans were
based in the 1960s and 1970s, had some capitalist development in
agriculture before the October 1917 Revolution.
Guecioueur and El-Khaldi share this view, arguing that agricultural
development, including the rise of prices for farm products, will have
Karen Pfeifer 139
multiplying beneficial effects. 17 Raising farmers' incomes will allow

them to purchase an improved standard of living, slow the rural
migration, slow the growth of urban unemployment, and reduce the
shift of land out of agriculture for urban development. The rising
surplus in agricultural incomes will then become available for invest-
ment in industry and other modem enterprises. With proper techno-
logical change, adapted to the environmental constraints of the region,
and training of agricultural workers, the quality and quantity of
agricultural output could be improved, thus reducing the protein
deficit now amicting the average Arab's diet. Reduction in food
purchases from abroad would also help to curtail the trade deficit
and the rate of growth of debt to the world financial system.
From this point of view, the problems of backwardness in agricul-
ture are both the effect and the continuing cause of underdevelopment
in the Arab world. 18 Addressing the needs of the majority of rural
inhabitants, for health and nutrition, technological progress and
education, higher productivity in agriculture and improving the
organization of infrastructure - transport, water resources, utilities,
marketing and storage of products, and distribution of non-agricultur-
al commodities - these constitute the essence of a strategy to develop
an Arab economy in its own terms, instead of emulating an imported
Western model. Kubursi argues that it makes more sense for Arab
countries to compare themselves to countries such as the United States
and Japan in their pre-industrial phase, in terms of agricultural
potential and programmes, rather than in their current advanced
state of development. 19
Guecioueur and EI-Khaldi, and at least implicitly Kubursi, have a
vision of moving towards food self-sufficiency in the Arab world as a
region, based on the principle of comparative advantage among the
constituent countries. The creation of regional food stocks, for
example, out of both local supplies and imported foodstuffs, would
alleviate fears of the 'food weapon', but could only succeed on a
supranational basis. These authors recognize the practical difficulties
of trying to achieve full self-sufficiency in foOO production in the near
future, as well as the political obstacles to serious regional integration
in agriculture and other economic endeavours. But, they argue, the
Arab world really has no other choice.
Other authors 20 are less sanguine about the prospects of easily
addressing questions of economic development via an agriculture-first
strategy. While they support the promotion of agriculture, they are not
as impressed with the seriousness of the threat of the 'foOO weapon'
and they try to assess the costs and difficulties of state action vis-ti-vis
agriculture. There are of course, the natural and technical constraints
on the potential for Arab agriculture to provide sufficient foOO,
constraints such as the availability of fertile land and efficiency in
use of scarce water; drainage; pollution frQm fertilizers and pesticides;
deforestation and desertification from land reclamation; and the
constriction of pasturage.
There are also social and political constraints. First, Arab agricul-
tural supply has not failed to increase; it has merely failed to keep up
with demand arising from growing populations and rising national
income per capita. No Arab country has seriously tackled the rising-
demand side of the equation, especially not the high birthrate aspect.
Ironically, IMF prescriptions for curtailing govemment deficits,
including, for example, reducing consumer subsidies on foOO pro-
ducts, may curb demand somewhat, but the demand for food is
relatively inelastic in any case. FoOO is the last thing on which a
household will cut back as its income falls, and it is the last thing that a
govemment, for political reasons, cuts out of its budget.
On the supply side, significant changes in state policy towards
agriculture always bave winners and losers. Land reforms in tbe
Middle Bast have tended to eliminate the biggest of the old landlord
class, but created or buttressed a new rich-peasant or capitalist-farmer
class that now has its own interests to protect. Members of this class
may be happy to see the privatization of state lands, the decontrol of
output prices, the surge in available credit, and the introduction of new
crops and seeds. But they will not welcome (and may have the power
to block) public investment in the rain-dependent regions, where poor
peasants farm, rather than the irrigated areas in which rich farmers
dominate; mechanization that makes machinery available at cheap
rental rates to poorer farmers; and competition for their monopolistic
connections to urban food marketers.
So far, especially in the 1970s and 1980s, state promotion of
agriculture, in conjunction with economic liberalization programmes,
the reopening of the door to foreign investment, and the turn to the
private sector and the provisions of the Green Revolution, has tended
to favour these rich farmers and to replenish constantly the supply of
cheap poor-peasant farm labour for their hire.
Govemment programmes to promote agriculture in the Arab world,
then, have many facets, the domestic facet that introduces social
changes as weil as new technology, the regional facet that squarely
faces the impracticality of each Arab nation trying to feed itself, and
Karen Pfeifer 141
the international facet that recognizes that, even as a region, the Arab
world is unlikely to feed itself any time soon and will, in addition to
improving its own food production have, to improve its bargaining
power with the world economic system. When a government, such as
that of Turkey, Egypt or Aigeria in the 1980s, follows the IMF's
prescription and promotes agricultural exports, do the results con-
tribute to increased inequality in the countryside? Do they reduce the
region's ability to feed itself, by substituting export production for
domestic production? Do they take into account the need to diversify
exports, in order to stabilize foreign exchange earnings in a fluctuating
world market? Do they take into account the need to diversify sources
of imports, especially of imported food, to reduce the potential risk of
vulnerability to the food weapon?
For social scientists concerned about economic development with
more equity than we have seen to date, the underlying structural
question is of how to ensure that the distribution of resources
worldwide is fair enough that no country ever has to be food-insecure
again. The key to answering this question lies only partly with national
and regional agricultural policy; it lies also with the nature of IMF-
sponsored stabilization programmes for indebted countries, and
Western-controlled food-distribution systems worldwide. It therefore
ultimately lies with the struggle to harness the international financial
system to support a kind of economic change within countries such as
Turkey, Egypt and Algeria, and between the Arab world as a region
and the powerful food exporters such as the United States, that helps,
rather than harms, the standard of living of ordinary people. We are
stuck with a single world economy taking shape for the twenty-first
century. The question is: how to reshape it to serve the needs of all the
world's people?
IMPLICATIONS OF THE 1990-91 GULF WAR
The experience of Iraq during the showdown with the alliance led by
the USA could be used to demonstrate the validity of the argument
that a country is less vulnerable to international pressure if it is self-
sufficient in food production. Iraq, one of only two Arab countries
(the other being Sudan) with unused agricultural 'land yet to be
brought under cultivation, could have been self-sufficient in food
production had pro-agricultural-development policies been followed
after the post-1958 land reform was imposed. However, the govern-
ment failed to carry through on policies to implement the land reform,

redistributing only a fraction ofthe confiscated land, reorganizing only
a fraction of the small farmers in cooperatives, and keeping the terms
of trade turned against agricultural producers.
As in other countries with similar policies, this Iraqi government
policy resulted in the stagnation of basic food production, increased
rural-to-urban migration, and the expenditure of part of oil rents to
purchase rising volumes of imported food. Logically, the embargo of
food, among other goods, became a potent weapon in the hands of an
international community intent upon punishing Iraq for invading
Kuwait in August 1990.
On a deeper level, however, the conflict between Iraq and Kuwait
illustrates the ultimate necessity of regional integration as a mode of
addressing the economic security issues of the Arab World. At the
present time, of course, what seems so economically logical is
politically untenable.
Kuwait is a country that has virtually no potential to feed its
population out of its own agricultural production, and no significant
natural source of fresh water. It is rich in oil and capital, however.
Iraq, on the other hand, is much poorer per capita in oil resources,
and has little capital to spare, but does have agricultural and
industrial potential, along with the population to work in these
sectors. There is a possible complementarity here which will certainly
not be realized in the near future due to the violent and bitter course
of the conflict. This is not an argument for Iraqi hegemony, as
Saddam Hussein might have had it, but for a voluntary joining of
common interests. Other, more populous, countries with agricultural
and industrial potential that have come out as losers in this new
situation are Yemen and Jordan, both of whose nationals are being
excluded from the oil-rich states and whose trade and aid are being
cut by the victors in the war.
On the other hand, alternative opportunities for regional integration
have opened up as a result of the changed balance of power. Egypt's
nationals are now being welcomed as replacements for Palestinians,
Jordanians and Yemenis in the workforces of Saudi Arabia and the
Gulf principalities. Egypt's agricultural and industrial potential may be
better used as a result of the trade and aid benefits offered to it as a
partner in the anti-Iraq coalition. Turkey's exporters may find
enlarged markets for their products in the Gulf and Saudi Arabia,
and bargain prices for oil imports, as areward for Turkey's coopera-
tion in the anti-Iraq coalition.
Karen Pfeifer 143
The enhanced presence of the Uni ted States, as both a political and
economic partner in the new regional equation, will continue to weigh
heavily. While the current governments continue to rule in Turkey,
Egypt, the Peninsula and the Gulf, it will constrain the permissible
degree of autonomous regional integration. It appears that the
interests of international capital, under United States protection, will
continue to be more important than intra-regional development. Such
are the fruits of military victory in this most recent Gulf war.
Notes
1. The two positions on this question are represented by, on one side,
Yacbir and Abdoun, who believe that national independence requires
self-sufficiency in food production, and on the other, Huddleston et al.,
and Adams, who take the IMF view that ability to finance food
purchases is the more realistic and efficient solution. Faycal Yachir and
Rabah Abdoun, 'Dependance alimentaire, croissance agricole et equilibre
externe en Algerie', Annuaire de I'Afrique du Nord, 1984 (Aix-en-
Provence: CRESM, 1986) pp. 529-42; Barbara Huddleston et al.,
International Finance for Food Security (Baitimore, Md: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1984); Richard H. Adams, Jr, 'The Role of Research in
Policy Development: The Creation of the IMF Cereal Import Facility',
World Development, ll, 7 (1983).
2. Ghanem EI-Khaldi, 'Reply' to 'The Problems of Agricultural Develop-
ment and Integration in the Arab World', in Adda Guecioueur (ed.), The
Problems of Arab Economic Development and Integration (Boulder, Col.:
Westview Press, 1984) p. 40, quoting The Future oJ"Food in the Arab
Countries, vol. 3 (Khartoum: Arab Organization for Agricultural Devel-
opment, 1979) pp. 2-3.
3. Kubursi starts bis essay with the judgement that 'Arab agriculture in the
Arab world is not performing as weIl as it should or could ... An
immediate consequence of this poor performance record has been the
serious deterioration in the food security position of the Arab World,
particularly in the 1970s.' AtifKurbursi, 'Arab Agricultural Productivity:
A New Perspective', in I. Ibrahim (ed.), Arab Resources: The Transforma-
tion of a Society (London: Croom Helm, 1983) p. 71.
4. Alan Richards and John Waterbury, A Political Economy of the Middle
East (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1990) pp. 139-83.
5. Alan Richards, 'Food Problems and State Policies in the Middle East and
North Africa', in W. Ladd Hollist and F. LaMond Tullis, Pursuing Food
Security: Strategies and Obstacles in Africa, Asia, Latin America and the
Middle East (Boulder, Col.: Lynne Riener Publishers, 1987).
6. For the complexities of the social changes that tbis process entailed, see
Caglar Keydar, 'Paths of Rural Transformation in Turkey', in Talal Asad
and Roger Owen (eds), Sociology of Developing Societies: The Middle
Easl (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1983) pp. 163-77.
7. See Economist Intelligence Unit, Country Report: Turkey, 3 (1989); and

US Oepartment of Commerce, Foreign Economic Trends: Turkey
(September 1989).
8. See US Department of Commerce, Foreign Economic Trends: Egypt, May
1989, for discussion of these problems.
9. Jean-Jacques Dethier and Kathy Funk, 'Tbe Language of Food: PL 480
in Egypt', Middle East Report, 145 (March-April 1987) pp. 22-7.
10. Tbe details are reported in the Economist Intelligence Unit, Country
Report: Aigeria, 3 (1989); and US Department of Commerce, Foreign
Economic Trends: Aigeria, March 1989.
11. Tbe production of meat, milk, eggs and poultry has grown dramatically
in the last fifteen years in all three countries. However, the supply is
projected to lag further behind demand in the coming decade. See John
C. Glenn, Livestock Production in North Africa and the Middle East,
Oiscussion Paper No. 39 (Washington, OC: World Bank, 1988).
12. Richards, 'Food Problems and State Policies', discusses this aspect; see
pp. 306-8.
13. As reported in Glenn, Livestock Production.
14. I rely here on Armartya Sen's argument regarding the importance of
'intrinsie freedom;' that is, the freedom to have a decent standard of
living and basic human rights, as opposed to the narrow 'instrumental
freedom' of the pursuit of self-interest now recommended by interna-
tional agencies. See Armartya Sen, 'Food and Freedom', World
Development, 17,6 (1989) pp. 769-81.
15. World Bank, World Development Report, 1989 (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1989). See Table 4, pp. 17(H.
16. Kubursi, 'Arab Agricultural Productivity', p. 72.
17. See Adda Guecioueur, 'Tbe Problems of Agricultural Development'; EI-
Khaldi, 'Reply'.
18. EI-Khaldi, 'Reply', pp. 33-43.
19. Kubursi, 'Arab Agricultural Productivity', p. 82.
20. Richards and Waterbury, A Political Economy of the Middle East.
7 From the Mirage of Rent
to the Burden of Debt:
Adjustment and
Insecurity in Arab
Economies
Michel Chatelus
The issue of debt, and the impasse into which it has propelled many
countries, is now at the centre of discussions on development
strategies. It has become manifestly impossible to re-establish the
essential equilibria, necessary for growth resumption, through sole
use of structural adjustment policies. The proposed. debt treatment,
issued at the inception of the 'crisis' in 1982, has weighed heavily on
the social stability and political security of numerous countries. It now
requires new thinking. Debtors must be provided with the time and the
means of a macroeconomic adjustment which would prevent short-
term social shocks and would ensure, in the longer run, the conditions
of sustained growth.
With a few exceptions, Arab economies 1 faced debt constraints
relatively late. The debt issue assumed a regional dimension in 1986
with the oil glut, effectively instilling a profound sense of insecurity.
The comparison of debt-induced problems in the Arab world with
those in other developing areas allows for a partial understanding of
the problem. However, some aspects can only be grasped through an
analysis of 'generalized rentier economics',2 which characterized many
Arab economies in the late 1970s and the early 1980s. An examination
of the various biases of rent diffusion, as well as of the 'Dutch disease'
syndrome,] suggests that the consolidation of Arab economies hinges
on a debt settlement, though not strictly on the latter's purely financial
dimension. Yet debt adjustment, in so far as it requires structural
reorientations, can itself become a significant source of insecurity. It
thus becomes necessary to study, in tandem, the necessary conditions
which would prevent, in the short-term, the unbearable political and
145
146 Adjustment and Insecurity in Arab Economies
social costs of macroeconomic adjustment, and the demands of

reorientation put forward by economies freed from the illusion of
rent and the burden of debt.
This chapter will, first of all, situate the Arab debt experience within
the whole of developing areas. Second, it will examine the legacy of
rentier economics for current insecurity and indebtedness. This will be
followed by an analysis of the adjustment process both as a source of
social and political insecurity, and as a condition for a re-established
balance. Finally, it will assess the approaches to debt management in
the international and regional environment.
THE ARAB DEBT IN COMPARATIVE PERSPECTIVE
Arab economies can be examined by emphasizing either their common

characteristics or their diversity; the combined approach used in this
chapter has several criteria. Arab countries are analyzed here accord-
ing to the criterion of Arab League membership, leaving aside
peripheral states (for example, Mauritania and Somalia); references
to Lebanon and Iraq are also limited in view of the paucity of
available data. The typologies selected by international organizations
are particularly useful; based on homogeneous data, they yield
comparisons which place Arab economies within a broad develop-
ing-area perspective, thereby illuminating the major aspects of their
indebtedness.
The World Bank's c1assification scheme (based on per capita GNP)
reveals high inequality among Arab countries. In 1988, two were low-
income earners (GNP per capita below USS545): South Yemen and
Sudan. Both were lower-middle-income earners in 1976, a group
(USS545 to USS2180 per capita GNP) that now inc1udes North
Yemen, Egypt, Morocco, Tunisia, Jordan and Syria. Algeria was part
of the upper-middle-income stratum (USS2180 to USS5450), which
also incorporated Libya, Oman and Iraq. The major Gulf oil
producers are now found among high-inoome earning countries, part
of no distinct category. Indeed, in 1988 Kuwait (USS13,400) and the
UAE (USSI5,770) had higher per capita GNPs than Britain
(USSI2,810) or Italy (USSI3,330) (see Appendix, Table A.2 on
page 304).
Also to be noted is the general slowdown 0/ growth from the 1965-
80 period to the 1980-87 period. Among Arab countries, the two
extreme groups (Sudan and the high-income oil countries) actually
Michel Chatelus 147
recorded negative growth rates during the latter period. Middle-

income earners, particularly Egypt, were also affected, but main-
tained a growth rate superior to that of others in that group.
Overall, only five countries registered a GDP per capita increase of
over 3 per cent between 1965 and 1987: Egypt, Tunisia, Syria, Algeria
and Saudi Arabia.
The criterion of dominant export reveals very diversified situations.
According to the International Monetary Fund, eight Arab countries
(Algeria, Iraq, Kuwait, Libya, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia and UAE)
are part of the 'fuel exporting' group (over 50 per cent of average
exports for 1984-86). One country (Tunisia since 1986) is classified as a
manufactured goods exporter. Primary goods are the dominant export
of one country (Sudan). Five countries belong to the heterogeneous
and composite group of service exporters and private rent recipients (a
category which could be defined as 'indirect rentiers'): Egypt, Jordan,
Lebanon and the Yemens. Finally, three countries are members of an
even less precise group, characterized by 'diversified exportation'
(Bahrain, Morocco and Syria). Arab countries can thus be found in
every category, but, in fact, can essentially be divided between oil
exporters and recipients of 'problematical' and ill-defined external
sources of income.
Financial indicators complete this perspective.4 Six Arab countries
(Kuwait, Libya, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia and the UAE) ranked
among the eight net creditors among the developing countries. Among
the other 126 debtor countries, only Algeria was among the twenty-
three countries whose debt was overwhelmingly market-contracted
(essentially from banks), whereas five Arab countries (Egypt, Mor-
occo, Sudan and the Yemens) were among the sixty-eight debtors
owing more than two-thirds of their borrowings to government
lenders. Seven Arab debtors are among the 'problem countries' ,
facing payment arrears and having engaged in negotiations for debt
revision (Sudan, Morocco, Egypt, and more recently Tunisia, Jordan,
Algeria and Iraq). Morocco, however, is the only Arab country
included in the 'Baker list' of heaviest debtors.
The problems of Arab indebtedness must be examined in the light of
Third-World tendencies. Here, it should be noted that global debt has
levelled off, after a growth of over 45 per cent between 1982 and 1987
(US$1230.9 billion). Overall, short-term debt (US$851.5 billion) has
shrunk, while long-term debt has expanded. The volume of unguar-
anteed credit has remained about the same, raising the per centage of
guaranteed credits to a considerable level (88.5 per cent in 1988).
148 Adjuslmenl and Insecurity in Arab Economies
Government loans have risen faster than private credit (constituting 55

per cent of long-term guaranteed credits in 1988). By the IMF's
definition," the Middle East's debt grew by 43 per cent between 1982
and 1988, approximately the tendency of developing countries as a
whole. It is overwhelmingly owed to government lenders, and its
proportion of short-term payments is higher than the overall develop-
ing-area average.
The use of World Bank data provides a more incisive analysis of
Arab countries. Net Arab debt reached nearly US$115 billion in 1988,
not ineluding an Iraqi debt pegged at a 'known' US$20 billion and
over US$50 billion owed to Gulf countries. Arab debt rose very
quickly in the mid-1980s, at two or three times the pace of developing
countries as a whole. Egypt and Algeria (both particularly affected by
the drop in oil revenues in 1986) are especially striking examples. Data
from the OECD and the Bank for International Settlements confirm
that only Algeria has had significant access to bank loans, which form
only a secondary source of financing for the other large Arab debtors.
The weight of this debt and the risks it creates can be expressed
through various measures. A high ratio of debt to GNP can be used as
a 'security index'. In 1987, Brazil and Mexico, two heavy world
debtors, posted ratios of 33.7 per cent and 69.6 per cent. That same
year, Morocco, Egypt and Sudan exceeded 100 per cent; Tunisia (70
per cent) and Jordan (75 per cent) seemed more fragile than Algeria
(30.5 per cent). The average of the seventeen heaviest world debtors
was 65.1 per cent in 1987.
Debt servicing varies widely across countries according to different
debt conditions; its significance must thus be carefully analyzed. For
instance, Sudan's debt/exports ratio of 6.8 per cent in 1987 is quite
meaningless, for the country can only meet a minimal part of its terms.
For Arab countries as a wh oie, debt servicing grew by less than 20 per
cent between 1982 and 1987 - nearly three times less than the debt
stock. However, the burden of reimbursement weighs heavily, exceed-
ing 2{}-25 per cent of export earnings in the cases of Morocco, Tunisia,
and especially Aigeria (elose to 50 per cent in 1987).
Consider now another possible indicator, reflecting the long-term
constraint on and the risks for a debtor country:6 it has been
suggested that such a country is vulnerable, and has only faint
chances of returning to sustained growth conditions, when its debt
exceeds twice the sum of goods and services exports (to which foreign
exchange reserves are added). Such calculations reveal the acuteness
of the debt-induced problem in some Arab countries. Again, account-
Michel Chatelus 149
ing only for long-term debt, the situation in Egypt (ratio of 3.25),
Morocco (2.90) and Sudan (8.10) is fi1led with danger. Tbe very rapid
expansion of Jordan's debt has certainly pushed its ratio far above 2
in 1989.
A simplified typology of Arab countries yields aseries of categories,
based on the insecurity and risks issuing from debt. Tbe 'core' Gulf
countries (Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Bahrain, UAE) are net creditors,
despite borrowing on international financial markets. Tbey do not
provide a public guarantee on those loans, and do not pose a debt risk.
However, they are forced to adapt spending to decreased oil revenues,
eventually drawing on reserves to finance their budget deficit. Other oil
countries, such as Qatar, Oman and Libya, may face problems in
managing their terms, but are not threatened by the security problem
linked to extreme debt. As a consequence of the 1990-91 Gulf War,
Kuwait has now joined this group as it seeks the capital necessary to
repair the damage wrought by Iraqi occupation. Algeria stands alone
in the category of an oil-producing debtor country choosing its own
adjustment policy, and encountering more medium-run liquidity than
long-term solvency problems.
Setting aside Sudan as a member of a sub-Saharan group unable to
control their debt, the major problem of security and development is
found among middle-income Arab countries which must switch from
direct or indirect rent to a productive economy, and which have
contracted massive debts in a few years in order to reduce the political
and social costs of such transition. Some have already implemented
adjustment programmes and have secured rescheduling agreements
(Morocco, Egypt and Jordan; Sudan faced this situation previously).
Others are negotiating agreements which would include austerity
programmes (Tunisia).
Iraq's situation is very specific, in view of the nature of its debt
(estimated at US$20 billion, plus US$50 billion in war assistance from
the Gulf), the impact of international sanctions imposed after its
August 1990 invasion of Kuwait, war damage and reparation claims.
It is important to note, however, that Iraq's debt squeeze seems to
have played an important role in its decision to launch that ill-fated
invasion.
Finally, for Syria and North Yemen, dependence and economic
insecurity have not been particularly expressed througb debt con-
straints. In the latter case, unification with the south (and its sizeable
debt) in 1990, coupled with sharply declining remittance eamings,
could pose future problems.
DEBT, INSECURITY AND THE LEGACY OF A RENT

ECONOMY
The relatively recent rise of a 'problem-ridden' debt in the Arab world

reflects a worsening of disequilibria, which had been masked or
neglected by the forward leaps of rentier economics. The tumbling
oil revenues of 1986, following aperiod of decline, affected all those
countries depending directly or indirectly on the oil market. All
suffered from the contraction and deflation which usually result from
massive cuts in revenues. The waning foundations of generalized rent
economies exposed their various biases and distortions.
Beginning in 1982, oil-producing Arab countries experienced severe
reductions in revenue. The tendency worsened in 1986, stabilizing in
1987-88 at about one-third the level of 1981 (see Table 7.1). Small
exporters such as Egypt, Tunisia and Syria were especially affected.
Egypt lost 54 per cent of oil-based income between 1985 and 1986, or
some 37 per cent of total external returns. Only a few countries
benefited, albeit slightly, from low prices: they include Morocco,
Jordan and Yemen before the latter turned into an exporter in late 1987.
Table 7.1 OAPEC oil revenues (USS billions)
1984 1985 1986 1987 1988"

Algeria 9.2 8.2 4.0 8.9 8.0
Bahrain 2.7 2.4 1.8 1.8 1.8
Egypt 1.9 2.6 1.1 1.6 1.5
Iraq 11.2 12.5 6.6 11.6 11.7
Kuwait 11.0 9.7 4.9 4.6 4.5
Libya 11.1 10.9 5.0 6.3 6.0
Qatar 4.2 3.2 1.6 1.8 1.5
Saudi Arabia 36.3 27.5 20.0 17.6 17.7
Syria 0.9 0.8 0.4 0.6 0.5
Tunisia 0.8 0.7 0.3 0.5 0.4
UAE 12.4 12.5 6.1 7.0 6.6
North Yemen 0.53
Total 101.7 91.0 51.8 63.2 60.2
"Estimates
Source: Arab Petroleum and Gas, 1 July 1989.
In turn, indirect rent economies (which characterize the bulk of

major non-exporters) were hit by diminishing cash flows as foreign
Michel Chatelus 151
remittances from Libya and the Gulf declined. Transfers reaehed

roughly US$9 billion in 1984, only to fall under US$7 billion in
1986 - a 22 per cent reduetion (see Table 7.2). Countries of the
Mashreq (Egypt, Jordan, Yemen) were touehed more severely than
their Maghreb counterparts (where many nationals are employed in
Western Europe). Moreover, ineome transfers must be put in perspee-
tive: in 1984, they equalled 68 per cent of exported goods in Egypt, 40
per cent in Morocco, 165 per cent in Jordan and a staggering 10000
per cent in Yemen.
Table 7.2 Receipts of workers' remittances (USS millions)
1970 1981 1984 1985 1986 1987

Sudan .. 366 284 259 .. ..
South Yemen 60 352 494 494 283 303
North Yemen .. 926 1012 897 566 428
Morocco 63 1013 872 967 1395 1587
Egypt 29 2181 3963 3212 2600 2845
Tunisia 29 357 317 271 320 486
Jordan 16 1047 1236 1022 1182 844
Syria 7 581 327 293 293 250
Algeria 211 406 329 313 309 434
Source: World Bank, World Development Report, various years.
In many cases, non-reciprocal publie transfers (grants, aid, various

loans, all drawn from oil revenues and distributed by rieh states to
others) had eomprised a significant eomponent of state revenues and
foreign accounts. Jordan benefited from at least US$650 million a year
from 1984 to 1987; Egypt, Syria, Sudan, Yemen (and Iraq, under
partieular conditions) likewise drew from tbis source. For most of
these eountries, however, these revenues also declined sharply in the
latter half of the 1980s.
Whatever its origin, a heavy drop in revenues triggers basically
automatie adjustments for affected eountries. The usual consequences
of sudden and uncontrollable resource deprivation are borne out in the
eases of tumbling rent (especially for those highly populated eountries
sueh as Egypt, Aigeria, Morocco and Sudan).
Imports of middleflow income Arab countries fell sharply in 1984-
87. Sudan's 1987 import capaeity was only 49 per cent of its 1984
figure; Egypt's was 58 per cent; Syria's was 62 per cent; Aigeria's
dropped by almost half. Those eountries showing stability barely
152 Adjustment and Inseeurity in Arab Eeonomies
matched their 1982 level. Tbe decline also occurred sharply in 1982 for
the big oil exporters, especially in Saudi Arabia, where the 1987 import
figures fell to half ofthose of 1982. Moreover, the terms oftrade of oil
exporters worsened, from a base index figure of 100 in 1980 to 61 in
1987. This can be attributed in part to currency appreciation in key
suppliers to the Arab world (Japan, Germany). Only Morocco and
Jordan saw mild improvement in their terms.
Fiseal bases, already tenuous, recorded serious revenue losses and
were deeply altered. Budgets were deprived of sizeable incomes, an
effect compounded by deficits built up in the early 19805. A lack of
substantial reserves in such countries as Kuwait and Saudi Arabia
opened the door for borrowings, wbich did alleviate pressure on
spending. With mounting deficits, spending cuts became increasingly
in order. Yet, publie eonsumption is difficult to compress when its
absolute level is already low, and wben belt-tigbtening creates
explosive political tensions. Governments are thus led to sacrifice
investment programmes, in order to contain public spending. Among
middle-income less-developed countries (LDCs) as a whole, public
consumption grew by only 2.5 per cent a year between 1980 and 1987,
in contrast witb 7.7 per cent in 1965-80. Tbe fall in investment is
even more striking: from 8.6 per cent to - 1.6 per cent a year - a net
loss.
Tbe 'crisis' increasingly faced Arab countries in the 1980s (and into
the 1990s) is thus subsumed under tbe more general crisis circum-
stances affecting all LDCs, especially in Latin America and Africa.
Still, rent economies produce specific conditions, wbicb sbape tbe
process of indebtedness and the constraints inherent in it.
Specific distortioDS linked to the reDt ecoDomy
Various studies in recent years have tackled tbe overall problem of

distortions caused by dramatic growth based on primary exports (oil,
mining, agricultural, even tourism earnings). The phenomenon is
likened to the 'Dutch disease', in reference to returns from natural
gas exports by the Netherlands in the 1950s. Tbe basic hypotbeses
underlining tbis latter case allow for a better understanding of certain
rent-induced mechanisms.
Distinguishing 'commercialized goods' (available on the interna-
tional market) from 'non-commercialized goods' (locally produced
goods and services), such an analysis examines the detrimental impact
of rent on national production, especially through internal inflation
Michel Chatelus 153
combined with currency appreciation. Massive imports penalize

existing industries and choke burgeoning ones. Similarly, agriculture
is victimized both by rising labour costs (labour is drawn to the
petroleum sector or moves to producing countries) and the competi-
tion from imported goods (which become cheaper as the national
currency is overvalued). Services and housing 'absorb' revenues and
grossly expand. Fiscal revenues support welfare expenditure, which
fuels service consumption. Pure oil rent economies form an ideal type
(UAE, Kuwait), but aspects of the analysis are applicable to such
indirect-rent systems as Egypt, Jordan, Yemen and so on.
When rents decline, several distortions remain to shape evolving
economic policies. Put simply, rent can act through both an 'anti-
productive bias' and a 'distribution bias'. The former is neatly
captured by the analysis of the 'Dutch disease'; focus on imports,
problems in diversifying industries, agricultural decline and rural
marginalization, preferred emphasis on infrastructure and overhead
costs, low investment efficiency. An 'economic opening' thus allows for
the purchase of foreign goods, at the expense of mediocre or
insufficient national production. Currency overvaluation compounds
the problem of acquiring export markets. The distribution bias affects
political and social processes, and generates constraints which rein-
force the anti-productive bias of emphasizing (external) resource
allocation over domestic production. The state plays a key role in
controlling and redistributing rent. The long-term stability and security
of the regime is thus guaranteed by this internal and external
redistributive function. Only with great difficulty will a welfare
economy (with, for example, free social services and education, very
low taxes, low-cost housing for nationals) be called into question when
revenues drop.
The rent economy thus intensifies disequilibrating tendencies. The
immediate reaction is to rely increasingly on borrowings in order to
ensure some sort of forward leap. However, the growing debt burden
eventually compromises the security and stability of the state, acting as
a catalyst for popular frustration towards those political officials who
now impose austerity measures of high social cost. 7
Monetary phenomena linked to rents have also markedly disturbed
entire economies and left durable scars. Cash flows during the boom
period (from oil, phosphate and foreign remittances) caused severe
inflation, reflecting pressure on the prices of 'non-commercialized
goods'. Currency appreciation, a fairly general tendency, was parti-
culary seen in the Gulf. 8 Also, for some time, Algeria, Jordan, Tunisia
1S4 Adjustment and Insecurity in Arab Economies
and Egypt maintained overvalued rates, which gave rise to under-

ground exchange markets, multiple exchange rates, and a loss of
control by monetary authorities over the financing of parts of
the economy. Favouring importers and, at times, preventing any
diversification of exports, overvaluation also alters cash flows. It
urges nationals (notably emigrants) to keep currencies out of the
country, or to export them when rates are allowed to flow freely;
Egyptians, for example, hold an estimated USS8 billion in assets
abroad. Such a tendency compounds the problems of rate fluctuations
and eventual devaluations inherent in adjustment policies; devaluation
is thus perceived as a bonus for black-marketeers and capital
exporters.
By the late 1970s, most Arab economies were contending with
imbalances and potential insecurity, fuelled by fast-growing subsi-
dies, imports, welfare expenditures, and equipment spending aimed
at ensuring the permanent development of productive structures.
Tbose countries peripheral to the rent system (such as Sudan and
Morocco) were first to contract debts, in order to maintain a policy of
minimal growth and redistribution; debt constraints, adjustments, and
reschedulings followed quite promptly (Sudan 1979, Morocco 1983).
Middle-income countries managed to postpone fundamental reassess-
ments for several years. However, these delays heightened the costs of
adjustment, inevitable by the mid-1980s. Shaped by the demands of
creditors, the harshness of adjustment can effectively jeopardize
political stability. Tbe rentier phase thus points to the inadequacy of
a purely 'financial' solution. Technica1ly, a renewed, massive inflow of
oil revenues could solve the debt problem; it would not, however,
guarantee regional stability and security.
ADJUSTMENT: SOCIAL INSECURITY AND BALANCING

REQUIREMENTS
Arab economies entered a de facto adjustment phase when direct or

indirect rent revenues began to decline. Progressively, the constraints
of economic dependence unleashed the characteristic, two-pronged
reaction: the macroeconomic policy of demand reduction (adjust-
ment), and the structural policy of stimulation towards increased
production. Debt becomes a security threat when it forces corrective
measures, increases the harshness of adjustment results, and reinforces
the potential contradictions between, on the one hand, the imperatives
Michel Chatelus 155
of austerity, and on the other, the indispensable return to the growth

of an efficient economy.
Tbe increasing burden of debt servicing, which at times exceeds the
amount of transfers and absorbs a growing chunk of export earnings,
steadily compels the adoption of policies to reduce this burden. Tbis
involves potential and considerable threats of economic and social
instability. Tbe state, key engine of production and redistribution,
must reduce spending in order to curtail the budgetary deficit. The
initial targets are subsidies (especially for food), which claim a very
sizable fraction of the budget, followed by health and education
expenditure. 9 Tbe basis of the minimal social contract for regime
acceptance is thus challenged.
Such spending cuts quickly reach their political and practical limit;
investments, largely state-financed, bear the brunt of absorption
reduction. In the Arab world, the investment rate as a per centage of
GNP dropped severely from 1984 to 1987. Tunisia's fell by 34 per cent,
Algeria's by 23.5 per cent, and Egypt's by 24 per cent. In 1980-87,
almost every country (except Egypt and Algeria) posted a negative
average annual growth rate.
Monetary and financial measures, serious threats to the social
equilibrium, are none the less central to adjustment. Restrictive
monetary policies follow from budgetary deficit reduction, so as to
bring down inflation. Tbey aim, for one thing, at reaching favourable
interest rates, which would promote savings and discourage capital
waste. However, they may involve negative redistributive effects, as
they limit the financing options of public enterprises which provide
goods and services at below-cost prices. Similarly, they constrain the
actions of official (low) rate credit users.
Monetary devaluations constitute another necessary step of macro-
economic adjustment, especially after aperiod of overvaluation which
discourages exports and capital inflows. Yet it can, in fact, be very
difficult, at times, to control depreciation once the exchange rates are
freed. For example, between the summer of 1988 and 1989, the value
of the 10rdanian dinar fell by almost three-quarters of its value.
Similarly, the Egyptian pound, at the real 'unified' rate, was worth
in 1989 barely a quarter of its 1984 official value.
Moreover, devaluation may have disturbing repercussions. Some
sectors (such as civil servants and employees) are particulary affected,
while other groups can earn a quick fortune (for example, currency
and commodity traders, and speculators). Tbe often drastic reduction
of imports compounds the inequalities inherent in burden (and gain)
1S6 Adjustment and Insecurity in Arab Economies
sharing. In a climate of slowdown or stagnation, such measures can be

the bases of a social malaise, which can evolve into open crisis and
jeopardize political regimes.
In the Arab world, debt constraint has not generally created
adjustment constraint and its accompanying social costs. However, it
did help to intensify its harshness, to shorten adaptation periods, and
to impair both the adjustment itself and, as the final objective, the
restoration of durable growth conditions through efficient economic
restructurlng. Tbe low-pressure and high-tension economy that char-
acterizes the adjustment period bears considerable risks. It must be
understood, however, within the context of structural reforms and
reorganization that countries must adopt.
For those countries in desperate need of assistance, the conditions
and terms of dependence reduction cannot be set within specific
deadlines (Sudan is an excellent example). In the majority of cases,
however, measures of macroeconomic adjustment (with accompanying
costs and risks) must work in concert with structural changes. Such
adaptation and reorganization allow not only for ultimate control of
the debt ('problem-free debtors' do exist), but also for its dynamic
management focused on national interests and needs.
Rentier economics in the Arab world compounded the clogs and
jams of the productive sector, which became unbearable in subsequent
periods of excessive indebtedness. Supply-side correctives, necessary
companions to the burdens of demand adjustment, are now in order so
as to achieve increasing growth through higher productive efficiency.
Tbe guiding principles of this orthodoxy, expressed in the policies of
the IMF and other lending agencies, are by now well-known.
First, the role of the state, and especially its function as an allocator
of non-produced revenues, must be de-emphasized in order to
stimulate the dynamism of other economic actors. Privatizing some
public enterprises may weil improve efficiency. More generally, subsidy
reductions would optimize market pricing and thus favour efficient
and flexible producers (especially in agriculture). Tbe plan should also
include deficit reduction, as weil as a diversified fiscal policy that
would reduce tax fraud.
Second, tbe competitiveness of enterprises must be enhanced by
eliminating particular rents, generated notably by excessive import
barriers, and by likewise resisting overvaluations, wbicb undermine
efficient export policies. National openness and enterprise efficiency
should work in concert to reduce the current account deficit.
Michel Chatelus 157
Tbird, improved resource allocation may soften the medium-term

difficulty in maintaining or even increasing the rate of investment.
Various financial reforms must be introduced so as to allow positive
real interest rates to exert discriminating influence in investment
allocation. Export capacity, for instance, would benefit from invest-
ment flows thus directed to high-return productive sectors.
Short-term adjustment policies (stemming from the pressures of debt
and foreign deficit) and supply-side policies (ostensibly laying the
ground for areturn to growth) together face two major types of
risks. One deals with the avowed 'political choice', and the other with
potential internal contradictions.
Some analysts strongly disagree with openness and the structural
adaptation of supply-side economics as an answer to stagnation and
the debt trap. Tbey consider it as the source of social disruption and
reflective of creditor and international financial pressure on debtor
countries. Its incipient social costs would be so high as conceivably to
jeopardize future growth. In other words, adjustment policies would
pose a fundamental threat to the domestic security and freedom of
choice of debtor countries.
This line of argument raises two questions. Firstly, is there any
alternative to partially yielding to creditors' demands, when a debtor
realizes that it cannot make any more payments? Indeed, the financing
of basic trade operations requires minimum international credits.
Secondly, is it not possible to limit the social costs of adjustment?
This has been the thrust of the World Bank, which increasingly
emphasizes greater selectivity in welfare programmes.
Another line of criticism focuses on the eventual contradictions
between the requirements of macroeconomic balancing (adjustment)
and those of the growth of a dynamic economy. Here, time is a crucial
issue. Tbe destabilizing impact of adjustment programmes is com-
pounded by the delays inherent in this policy choice and by their
declared quest for rapid balancing. Forcefully applied, their effects
(higher prices of basic goods, lower wages, firing of public-sector
employees) are immediate and without cushioning or compensatory
measures. Also, the eventual resumption of growth is slower and more
problematical. Aware of such risks, the IMF and the World Bank
lengthen their programmes, offering medium-term loans to ease
structural adjustment. Renewed negotiations and financing become
indispensable tools to avoid economic strangleholds, and to buttress
foreign deficits until structural measures succeed.
Contradictions mayaIso emerge between adjustment policies and

the conditions for growth resumption. Domestic enterprises often
operate improperly, their capacities weakly exploited; lower domestic
demand may compound tbis deficiency if the export sector does not
take over. Lower imports and economic opening lessen fiscal revenues,
thus conflicting with policies of budgetary deficit reduction. Currency
devaluation increases the cost of imported equipment, dampening
investment; similarly, debt securing becomes more expensive, heighten-
ing public spending. A number of studies have detailed the debt efTect
of adjustment policies, whereby these contractions simply force the
debtor into accelerated financing. 10 The head of the Tunisian central
bank underscored the point: 'Having paid back regularly, it feIt
frustrated to witness our increasing burden,.ll
Recent debt increases in many Arab countries will intensify local and
regional insecurity if the status quo is maintained or if purely macro-
economic measures (adjustment/stabilization) are advocated. The debt
issue is not merely one of amounts (which ought to be reduced) or of
servicing (which should be scaled down through negotiations). The
problem must be understood in its international and regional settings.
REDUCTION OF INSECURITY AND RETURN TO GROWTH
National, international and regional contexts oe Arab debt

The 1985 Baker initiative demonstrated, for the first time, the
awareness from Western creditors that debtor countries had made
considerable and useless sacrifices since the 1981-82 debt crisis. The
orthodox strategy initially pursued (domestic demand reduction and
export surplus) could not lighten debt ratios, slow down the expansion
of world debt, or restore growth. The unfolding of the Baker Plan
(1986-88) identified fifteen problem debtors among middle-income
countries which had sought renewed cash flows from international
institutions and especially banks, as a corollary to rescheduling.
The limitations of the Plan (which had been particularly aimed at
Latin America) were quickly revealed, as negative net transfers to
developing countries increased (approximately US$25 billion from
heavy debtors to industrialized countries in 1987) and as some debtors
experienced social and political shocks. Beginning in 1988, growing
concerns led to a 'third phase' of the debt crisis, a more pragmatic
approach adopted by both public and private creditors. Various
Michel Chatelus 159
proposals followed, notably at the 1988 Toronto summit of the G-7

group of industrialized countries; in September 1988, with French and
Japanese initiatives; and in February 1989, with the Brady initiative.
The latter was aimed at improving coordination among creditors, and
at adapting proposed solutions to diverse cases.
Three objectives underlay the approach. First, it sought to secure
voluntary debt reduction from creditors. Assets-for-debt swaps, such
as the sale of domestic enterprises, may serve this purpose. Similarly,
debt might be exchanged for fixed or low rate bonds. Debtors mayaiso
be allowed more opportunities to buy back their debts (sometimes with
sharp discounts). Second, it tried to alleviate the burden of debt
through reduced interest and negotiated deferred redemption. Final-
ly, it also sought to convince bankers ofthe necessity ofnew loans, as a
means for renewed growth. Governments could provide the incentives
through tax breaks and softened regulation.
Setting aside Sudan, the potential beneficiaries from this nascent
strategy in the Arab world are primarily those middle-income coun-
tries facing a large national debt, whose interest payments weigh
heavily. For some time now, several countries have agreed to
adjustment measures and obtained rescheduling agreements from the
Paris Club (for example, Sudan, Morocco and Egypt); others have
secured reschedulings through the IMF (for example, Tunisia and
Jordan). Aigeria, for its part, unilaterally adopted austerity pro-
grammes, in a quest for maximum mobilization of resources that
would guarantee servicing without rescheduling. Other countries,
some of them large debtors (for example, Yemen, Syria, and especially
Iraq), do not clearly fit into the emerging framework.
A consensus now exists over a special treatment for the poorest
countries, whose problems of solvency go beyond simple liquidity
shortage. Sudan and most of sub-Saharan Africa are included in this
category. The Sudanese total debt exceeds USSll billion, in contrast
with an USS8 billion GNP for 1987. Despite aseries of rescheduling
agreements from 1979 to 1984, the country is near default, surviving
on foreign remittances (estimated by the IMF at USS2l6.3 million in
1988) and public development assistance (USS907 million in 1987,
according to the World Bank). The civil war, and the political
instability wh ich caused it and resulted from it, together have
darkened any prospect for a systematic tackling of the debt. Interna-
tional aid is the key to Sudan; the situation there is far more critical
now than it was early in the decade, when adjustment programmes
were implemented.
Morocco, Egypt, Tunisia and Jordan form the 'core' of problem

debtors in the Arab world. Tbey are directly targeted by current
international efforts to alleviate the burden of debt and its incipient
risks of social upheaval and economic paralysis. Tbese countries face
different challenges, but all seek relief solutions which would be
conducive to economic equilibrium and to the resumption, in the
shortest possible term, of net foreign capital inflows.
Following the 'phosphate boom' (1975) and the inordinate ambi-
tions of the late 1970s plan, Morocco experienced severe imbalances
and crucial problems stemming from its debt and foreign deficit.
Relatively isolated from indirect oil rent flows, Morocco in the 1980s
alternated IMF-type adjustment policies with partial upswings, as it
dealt with popular discontent over rising food prices inspired by
subsidy cuts. Tbe June 1981 and February 1984 food riots typify the
considerable social cost inherent in policies of budgetary deficit
compression, devaluation and foreign deficit reduction.
The only Arab country on the 1985 'Baker list', Morocco, has
received good reviews from the IMF and the international financial
community. Tbe Paris Club granted reschedulings in 1983, 1985 and
1987. In 1988, reschedulings from eleven countries totalled US$940
million (spread through 1990). Morocco has achieved definite success
in restoring macroeconomic equilibrium. Effective balance in foreign
accounts was attained in 1987 and 1988, while the budgetary deficit as a
percentage of GNP has sharply diminished. Following the agreement
with the Paris Club in 1988, the banking community favourably con-
sidered voluntary debt reduction (bank debts amounted to US$3.2
billion out of a near USS21 billion total): a proposed 35 per cent cut
matched similar deals with the Philippines and Mexico. Moreover,
Morocco is undoubtedly the only Arab country able to envisage buying
back (with favourable tax levels) part of its private debt.
Tbe Moroccan case typifies the ambiguities of adjustment: potential
social eosts and, despite successful maeroeconomie balancing, the
diffieulty 'normally' of alleviating the constraints of debt. With high
demographie growth and low GDP per eapita, strong economic
growth must take place promptly in order to avoid serious political
and social erises. However, such growth will essentially depend on the
international environment (bigher exports, lower interest rates) and on
the collaboration of publie and private ereditors. (peace in the Sahara
would also obviously be an important contribution.) Tbough adjust-
ment may represent a necessary condition, its logie does not necessarily
entail adynamie of growth.
Michel Chatelus 161
The Tunisian experience approximates Morocco's, though with

slightly fewer constraints. Tunisia's c10se to USS7 billion debt (1988)
has expanded by 60 per cent since 1984, while servicing totals 27 per
cent of exports of goods and services. A fall in revenues in 1986 and a
series of poor crops have caused the situation to deteriorate in a
country committed to painstaking liberalization, to the search for
external outlets (notably from industrial free zones), and to the
reduction of state ownership and subsidies (cuts in basic food
subsidies led to very serious riots in 1984).
Beginning in 1986, IMF pressures aimed particularly at the
strengthening of macroeconomic adjustment policies: The dinar was
devalued by 50 per cent , the budgetary deficit was compressed (from
10 per cent of GNP in 1980, it fell to 3.8 per cent in 1988), financial
liberalization was stimulated by positive interest rates. None the less,
Tunisia has encountered serious problems in debt servicing. 12 Stacked
deadlines and reticent international investors, on whom Tunisia is
depending in order to buttress its foreign-trade-based growth strategy,
provoked net capital outflows in 1987 (- USS275 million) and 1988
( - USS305 million).
A liquidity problem has thus c1early appeared, in a country whose
medium-term solvency seems none the less assured. However, Tunisia
cannot sacrifice investments and social spending without threatening
short-term regime stability and long-term growth. Negotiations must
relieve pressure, and thus allow more breathing room for economic
and social policies.
Jordan is almost a caricatural example of an induced-rent economy.
It withstood successive severe shocks by relying on quite substantial
public and private transfer earnings. In the late 1980s, it faced the
shock of first benefiting from a middle-man role to warring Iraq and
subsequently losing that status; and of relinquishing its claim to the
West Bank in July 1988. The dinar fell by more than 50 per cent as a
reaction to sizeable cuts of Palestinian capital flows, forcing the
government to speed up hitherto partial or deferred measures of
adjustment to reduced foreign resources. The predictable austerity
policy caused very serious riots in April 1989. The debt (officially
pegged at US$4.7 billion in late 1987) soared rapidly, surpassing the
US$8 billion mark in the spring of 1989.
In view of the potential regional spillovers of social instability in
Jordan, dual negotiations have followed with the Paris and London
clubs of official and private creditors to attenuate the efTects of
austerity and to prevent asphyxia and explosion. The objective is to
frame a five-year reorganization programme, granting a reprieve (with

reschedulings and new loans) during which Jordan would seek to
improve its economic potential and adapt it to achanging environ-
ment. 13 Although initially enjoying some marked success, Jordan's
adjustment strategy was dealt a serious blow in 1990-91 by the Gulf
crisis. Economic sanctions against Iraq, the return of expatriate
workers, and the suspension of economic aid from Arab Gulf states
have all made themselves feit, underscoring once more the extent to
which Jordan does not control all the levers of its economic (and socio-
political) future.
Though Egypt was not included in the Baker list, its debt is none the
less extensive: an estimated USS40-50 billion in 1988, 80 per cent of
which is owed to public creditors; debts from imports financing are
pegged at around USSIO billion}4 Tbe imbalances of the Egyptian
economy are longstanding, and worsened under the economic opening
of the 1970s and as a result of direct and indirect oil rent flows.
Various types of transfer, including those tied to Egypt's strategie
importance, allowed for substantial growth between 1965 and 1980.
From 1980 to 1987, even at slower rates, Egypt's rate of growth
remained quite high among LDCs. Yet deficits expanded at all levels:
in a budget burdened by subsidies totalling 10 per cent of GDP, in
current accounts, in the trade balance. Lower rent earnings added to
this precariousness, while the economic opening failed to muster the
industrial dynamism which, it was hoped, would have converted Egypt
into a productive economy geared toward export.
In 1986--87, Egypt saw the need for negotiations with the IMF. Tbe
proposed adjustment plan was considered very harsh by Egypt (the
1977 and 1984 subsidy riots were still close to mind), while the IMF
hailed it as particularly lenient. Tbe agreement, signed in May 1987,
granted in fact one of the most extensive reschedulings ever (USS5,586
million). However, Egypt could not respect an 18-month deadline for
the implementation of the plan. Some measures did go through (a 40
per cent rise in energy prices for some strata; a 56 per cent
devaluation; a rise in the price of sizeable amounts of subsidized
bread, under the guise of improved quality), but Egypt refused the
risk of a social explosion, which hurried deadlines would have
prompted.
With a rapidly deteriorating financial situation and the accumula-
tion of arrears, Egypt's sources of credit practically dried up in 1989.
Negotiations with the IMF resumed in the summer of 1989, with
Egypt acknowledging IMF pressures for higher interest rates, import
Michel Chatelus 163
constraints and controls on new credit. As a consequence of its

support for Western policy during the Gulf war of 1990-91, how-
ever, Egypt was eventually rewarded by a partial softening of IMF
terms, facilitating aseries of agreements in the spring of 1991. Ouring
the war itself, some US$13.7 billion in US and Arab loans were
written off. Subsequently, half of Egypt's US$20.2 billion debt to
Paris Club official creditors was also cancelled, and the remainder
rescheduled over twenty-five years. IS
Although such developments have eased Egypt's debt burden
significantly, the country is still faced with both liquidity and solvency
problems. It lacks the efficient economy that would prevent recurring
falls into the trap of debt deadlines. It must engage in sustained and
systematic efforts to improve productivity and effi~iency, eliminate
situational rents, and create a capital market. An estimated US$40
billion in Egyptian capital has either fled the country or failed to
return to it over the past thirty years. 16 A simple fraction of those
funds would greatly contribute to Egyptian control of debt manage-
ment; but this is only likely of arenovated economy can instil the
necessary confidence.
Aigeria, with a US$24 billion debt, suggests a problem very different
from those of the above-mentioned countries. This country has
medium-term solvency, is indebted especially to private creditors (83
per cent), and has an impeccable reimbursement record. After reducing
its debt in 1981-83, Algeria was forced to borrow more in 1986 in
order to offset the decline in oil prices. The heavy burden of servicing
has thus come to the fore: pegged at close to US$6 billion in 1988, it
outweighed oil exports and was to remain cumbersome for three or
four years. Algeria has not sought rescheduling but attempts to
combine all available liquidity sources, both public (access to the
various IMF programmes and facilities) and private, so as to over-
come its shortages and avoid a financial stranglehold. There remain
some questions as to the longer-term direction of the Algerian
economy, the conditions for export diversification away from quasi-
dependence on fossil fuels, and the necessity of currency devaluation as
a means to enhanced competitiveness. Austerity measures may
produce explosive effects, even if 'self-imposed' - as amply evidenced
by the riots of October 1988.
In all cases, the success of a debt strategy depends in part on a
favourable international context. The present conjuncture reveals
favourable and unfavourable elements, in contrast with 1986-87,
when Arab countries suffered from an almost uniformly deteriorating
situation. Despite latent protectionist tendencies, developing countries

have benefited from better trade opportunities and export outlets. The
basic product price index (non-oil) rose vigorously, starting in mid-
1987 (+ 16.6 per cent in real terms in 1988). Average oil prices have
risen above their 1986 lows, although they are not likely to rise much
further in the near term. Global LDC exports grew by 10.6 per cent in
1987 and 11 per cent in 1988. The recession of 1990-92 in the industrial
world represented a negative development, however. Forecasts for the
rest of the 1990s are also less optimistic, and exporters of manufac-
tured goods in the Arab world (Egypt, Morocco and Tunisia) will have
to fight in order to increase or even maintain their markets.
World interest rates went down substaI1tially after 1986 and 1988;
combined with the weaker dollar, they helped contain the growth of
debt servicing in many countries. Any increase in either, however,
would cast doubt as to the consolidation and reduction of debt.
A change in approach on the part of the industrial states is the most
striking development to occur since 1985: they now understand the
risky implications of the debt for the world economy and global
political stability. Overly drastic adjustment policies may cause
economic and social chaos as well as considerable market losses,
since stagnating countries are largely deprived of their purchasing
power. States cannot consider bank debts merely as private business,
and all partners (states, creditors, banks, international organizations
and debtor countries) must pool their efTorts to lighten the burden of
debt. Arab countries must try to draw the maximum from this new
conjuncture. The point here is less to pursue massive debt cancellations
(except for Sudan) than to design plans for healthy debt management,
the resumption of capital flows, and the return to satisfactory growth
rates within restructured economies. In the case of Mediterranean
countries, one must be sensitive to the European Community's
concerns about the Maghreb's future, and the latter's intention to
initiate such debt management efTorts.
A coherent strategy for the debt, one which could reduce insecurity
and promote new growth dynamics, also requires a regional Arab
conception of the problem. Generalized rent economies have estab-
lished interdependencies based on unequal relations and anti-produc-
tive biases. Lessons from the past must be remembered. Though
favourable oil prices may inject tens of billions into the region, and
may well allow for critical debt reimbursement, they would not solve
the basic problems. The absence of appropriate policies could create
only similar strangleholds and insecurities. Among the priorities is the
Michel Chatelus 165
strengthening of trade relations in the Arab world, especially those

between Maghreb and Middle Eastern countries, which are stagnating
at a ridiculous level. 17 It will require a more adequate productive
apparatus within open economies, or some control of. overly exclusive
bilateral protectionism.
Some sort of regional cooperation would thus contribute efficiently
to the growth of more balanced economies. Some cooperative en-
deavours are longstanding, and overall, have seemed to develop
realistic approaches. The Gulf Co operation Council, despite the
ambiguities stemming from unequal partnership, has had some
notable achievements. 18 The Arab Maghreb Union, formed by a
February 1989 agreement between Aigeria, Libya, Morocco, Maur-
itania and Tunisia, has tackled some issues of economic cooperation.
The sheer existence of the Arab Cooperation Council (Egypt, Jordan,
1raq and Yemen) revealed an awareness of the necessity to compare
opinions on essential economic choices - although in this case,
cooperation (and the ACC itself) was an early victim of 1raq's August
1990 invasion of Kuwait. Coordination between indebted and poorly-
structured economies may not solve the problem of debt, yet it may
relieve some of the insecurity and heighten credibility at times of
negotiation, including with creditors. Unfortunately, this has not been
facilitated by the political tensions that characterize inter-Arab
relations, especially in the wake of the 1990-91 Gulf War.
Capital from those creditors among Arab oil countries, as weil as
'absentee' and 'scared' capital from debtor countries, must be invested
in Egypt and the other Arab states with productive potential. This
cannot be done coercively: capital will be invested only if the
conditions are attractive. Again, however, the Gulf War and its
aftermath may reduce the availability of Arab petrodollar investment
funds as weil as influence the choice of potential investment countries.
CONCLUS10N
Debt does not necessarily threaten a country's security and sover-

eignty. Its implications are drawn from its international economic
context, characterlzed by interdependent exchanges of goods, capital
and labour force. 1ts likely influence on a country's domestic and
foreign policies may be ascertained from the historical formative
conditions of indebtedness, the debt's structural components, and
especially the specific use of the borrowed sums.
Thus construed, debt poses an existing and potential threat for

many Arab countries, for it has originated from poliey failures aimed
at enhanced regional seeurity and an invigorated international
economie position. The eurrent indebtedness in the Arab world is a
telling sign of its weakening posture and its impotence in building,
from oil capital, a produetive economy. In the 1970s, there were
arguments for an Arab finaneial space wherein oil states would
complement demographically strong countries; petrodollars were to
propel the Arab world to the highest ranks of the international
financial eommunity. Today, the model is turned on its head: the
few countries holding net external assets are usually very discreet in
financial markets, while highly populated countries are pleading to
banks, to Western states, and to the IMP. Indeed, it was precisely
these sorts of tensions and contradietions that helped Iraq's Saddam
Hussein to garner signifieant mass support in Jordan, Sudan,
Yemen and the Maghreb, as he portrayed bis August 1990 invasion
of Kuwait as a blow against the Arab rieh on behalf of the Arab
poor.
Debt eonstraint indeed becomes a general faetor of insecurity to the
extent that it imposes short-term policies, sacrificing indirect or slowly
maturing investments to the benefit of highly symbolic decisions (for
example, subsidy reduetions or lay-offs of civil servants) - often
necessary, though never sufficient, conditions for an economic up-
swing. The result, in fact, is a potent fuelling of social destabilization,
with potentially broader regional effects.
Problems peculiar to the Arab debt, in contrast with other regions of
the world, stem from its recent and very rapid expansion, as a means to
cushion the decline of oil rents. It aggravates, and thus prolongs, the
imbalances of rent economies by foreing upon them the external
pressures of adjustment polieies. Moreover, the Arab debt has
reaehed new heights in an international context working to the
disadvantage of borrowers. The growth of industrialized countries,
the economie and political opening of Bastern Europe and collapse of
the USSR, the rising burden of environmental concerns and the
additional investments wbieh they demand, all announce a global
dearth of investment savings and capital.
Debtors will increasingly compete for external financing, granted
according to political and economie consid~rations. Por the populated
southern Mediterranean countries, favourable debt renegotiations
largely hinge on the European Community's insistence on the stability
of this region, and on a framework for economie growth matching
Michel Chatelus 167
demographie growth and general popular demands. Tbere will be

implicit and explicit conditions to the European offer of resources
and market shares. Net capital flows, a necessary precondition to real
growth, may be considered only if more efficient management can
yield profitable investments within more productive economies. Tbe
current level of indebtedness and economic inefficiency will most
probably postpone to a very distant future any such positive flows
emanating from the West.
Arab countries should thus adopt a global approach to the debt:
using their geographical position, their demographie weight and their
oil capabilities, they could enter negotiation as partners rather than
become its hapless victims. Debt would cease to act as a paralyzing
liability, and would rather become one element in a positive-sum game
where respective assets and needs converge; though pay-offs may be
unevenly shared, all players would secure positive yields. A collective
Arab endeavour could temper the role of the debt as a source of
individual insecurity and use it as a bargaining chip within aglobai
negotiation framework, where the Arabs' numerous assets would
counterweigh their heavy liabilities. Unfortunately, under present
levels of regional tension such levels of economic coordination remain
unlikely.
Notes
1.I am not taking a position here on the question ofthe fundamental unityJ
heterogeneity of the Arab economic space. For reflections on this debate,
see Michel Chatelus, 'Les economies des pays arabes, 20 ans apres',
Maghreb-Machek, December 1983.
2. Michel Chatelus and Yves Schemeil, 'Toward a new political economy of
state industrialization in the Arab Middle East', International Journal 0/
Middle East Studies, 16, 2 (1984); and Michel Chatelus, 'Policies for
development: attitudes toward industry and services', in Hazem Beblawi
and Giacomo Luciani (eds), The Rentier State (London: Croom Helm,
1988).
3. For a discussion, see Ahmed A. Sid, 'Du "Dutch disease" a 'l'OPEP
disease': problemes theoriques et pratiques de la rente pCtroliere', Tiers
Monde, October-December 1987.
4. The exact nature of Arab debt is not known. In some cases, estimates are
very diverse and approximate (for example, Iraq). Total debt figures
(provided in the Appendix) are based on World Bank normalized data;
bank and commercial debt assessments rely on joint Organization for
Economic Cooperation and Development-Bank of International Settle-
ments computations.
5. As defined by the IMF, the Middle Bast inc1udes Egypt and Libya, but
not the Maghreb. It also comprises Iran and Iraq, and this limits the
significance of data so assembled.
6. See 'Aspects of International Indebtedness', Deutsche Bank Bulletin,
September 1989.
7. On the efTects of declining revenues on stare-society relations in such
economies, see Rex Brynen, 'Economic Crisis and Post-Rentier Demo-
cratization in the Arab World: The Case of Jordan', Canadian Journal 0/
Political Science, 25, 1 (March 1992).
8. Michel Chatelus, 'Monnaies des pays arabes petroliers du Golfe',
Economie et Societe, cahier F30, 1986.
9. A very worthwhile, precise analysis can be found in A. Chevallier and
V. Kessler, Economies en developpement et deflS demographiques: Algerie-
Egype-Maroc-Tunisie (paris: La Documentation fran~ise, 1989).
10. Among numerous works, see IMF, 'Theoretical aspects of the design of
fund-supported adjustment programs', Occasional Paper 55, 1987. For
redistributive efTects, consult Heller et a/., 'The implications of fund-
supported adjustment programs for poverty', in IMF, Occasional Paper,
58, May 1988.
11. Ismail Khelik, Le Monde, 6 June 1989.
12. Financial Times (London) 24 July 1988.
13. For details, see Central Bank of Jordan, Twenty Sixth Annual Report -
1989 (Amman: Department of Research and Studies, 1990) pp. 68-73.
14. The World Bank figure is USS40,259 million; other estimates amount to
more than USS50 billion. Some unknowns inc1ude the military debt to
the USSR and the treatment of at least part of the military acquisitions
from the US (USS4.6 billion, according to the Financial Times, 30 May
1989).
15. Reflecting concern over the failure ofthe 1987 IMF agreement, however,
only 15 per cent was written ofT immediately, with further cuts of 15 per
cent and 20 per cent to be made in 1993 and 1994 after reviews of Egypt's
adherence to the new IMF plan. MiddJe East International, 31 May 1991,
p.13.
16. Financial Times, 29 September 1989.
17. H. Michel and J.C. Santucci, Le Maghreb dans le monde arohe (paris:
editions du CNRS, 1987).
18. Yves SchemeiI, 'Le conseil de cooperation du Golfe, un nouvel acteur sur
la scene petroliere', Energie Internationale 1989-1990 (paris: Economica,
September 1989).
8 National Integration and
National Security: The
Case of Yemen
Manfred w. Wenner
INTRODUCTION
Threats to the national security of astate can take a variety of forms.

These include not only military pressures but also economic, political
or ideological pressures as weIl as appeals based on historical
affiliations or ethnic factors. Tbe important point here is that states
define 'national security' in different terms, depending upon the issues,
circumstances, events and resources which they deem important. In
one state, security may be defined in military terms because the state
has no major demographie or economic issues/problems which
materiaIly affect the domestic distribution of political forces; in
another state, however, threats to the stability of the currency, or to
the balance of domestic forces based upon, say, a religious division,
may be considered of far greater importance to 'national security'. It
is, then, useful to disaggregate the term 'national security', and discuss
the specific features of a given state which appear to its elites and
current leaders to offer the opportunity to others of intervening or
threatening the society and its economy, as weIl as its political
institutions.
THE TWO YEMENS
The security concerns, the political orientation, and the contemporary

political culture of Yemenis are shaped and deeply influenced by some
important events of the last century as weIl as recent developments.
Without an understanding of these, most of today's concerns and
policies will remain incomprehensible.
The two components of today's Yemen Republic each experienced
at least some administration and intervention by states perceived as
169
170 National Integration and National Security: Yemen
foreign, and both therefore perceive themselves as having been

subjected to a set of policies considered to have been alien and
inappropriate.
In the case of North Yemen (the former Yemeni Arab Republic), it
was apart of the Ottoman Empire until 1918. A rebellion against
Ottoman rule began in the 1890s, led by the imam (religious leader) of
the Zaydi sect; upon his death, his son (Yahya) continued the
rebellion, at least until the outbreak of the First World War. When
the Ottoman forces withdrew in 1918, Yahya became the political head
of the independent state of Yemen (with the title 'king'). Throughout
his reign, which lasted until 1948, foreign and domestic policies were
clearly motivated by his experience. Thus his primary political
concerns were (i) autarky; (ii) the reunification of what he perceived
as historie Yemen, which inc1uded everything from Asir in the north to
the British territories in the south; and (iii) c1early imposing his rule,
and the principles of Islam, throughout all of Yemen. These rather
ambitious policies eventually led to conflicts with Saudi Arabia and
Great Britain; more importantly, the policies' relative lack of sophis-
tication (most especially in the methods used) eventually alienated
potential support from the residents of these areas. 1 One important
long-term result was that Yemenis - old and young - were socialized
into believing that both neighbours, but especially their northern one,
followed policies designed to diminish the influence, power and
prestige of (North) Yemen.
In the case of South Yemen (the former People's Democratic
Republic of Yemen - PDRy), the British presence began in 1839
with the take-over of the port of Aden; eventually, in order to protect
Aden from potential overt as well as covert actions by the imams of
Yemen seeking to regain their patrimony, British influence extended to
the many statelets of the interior, from Lahij in the west to Hadhra-
maut and Mahra in the east: the so-called Western and Eastern Aden
Protectorates. In time, an indigenous independence movement (con-
sisting of a large number of different political orientations) developed,
which waged a politico-military campaign against the British presence
throughout the 1950s and 1960s. By 1967, the British decided to turn
over the reins of power to the National Front, the strongest and best
organized of the opposition movements; in November 1967, the new
state, then called the People's Republic of South Yemen, became an
independent republic. 2
Although both states had Yemen in their names, and in principle
accepted the idea of unification, the differences between them in terms
Man/red W. Wenner 171
of politieal, economic and social policy were far too great to make such
unification a feasible near-term option. The North was quite clearly
linked to the Western group of states, despite the fact that it was also
receiving military equipment from the Soviet Bloc. It had a very
tradition al set of orientations toward social policy, even though there
were many progressives within the government who sought to change
policies towards education, health, the status of women, and so on; it
also had a clearly capitalist economy that was closely linked to the
Western states, due, in part, to the large number ofYemeni expatriates
whose remittances fuelled much of the economic growth of the 1970s
and 1980s.
The South, on the other hand, was politically and economically
linked to the Soviet bl oe: it had a Treaty of Friendship with the USSR,
and regularly supported Soviet initiatives (including the invasion of
Afghanistan). It adopted a radieal set of social polieies (including the
complete equality of women), and developed one of the most
thoroughgoing and radical sets of economic policies among the
Communist states: at one point it expropriated and collectivized all
land, housing and commercial enterprises, and utterly forbade contacts
between its citizens and those of any non-Communist state (including
other Arab states). Some measure of the difTerences in orientation and
poliey is provided by the fact that in the decade of the 1970s, the two
Yemens rought two wars with one another (in 1972 and 1979). Into the
1980s, relations were never very good: conflicts within the political
leadership of the South had an impact on the North, and vice versa,
and both undertook interventions in the internal afTairs of the other,
though this was more often the case with the South attempting to
change the North than vice-versa.
Ironically and inevitably, the poor relations between the two Ye-
mens decreased their effectiveness at promoting their own security as
weH as their national goals (in the economie as weIl as social spheres).
A furt her and perhaps more important irony was that the two Yemens
often saw the other as the most important security threat - to its
political system as weIl as its social and economic systems.
The other Yemen was not, by any means, the only threat whieh the
two separate states perceived to their existence or their policy goals,
however. In fact, it may be argued that the major perceived threat to
both was (and is) Saudi Arabia, and that this became one of the most
important factors in promoting unification, as weIl as maintaining the
process despite the many difficulties that it entails. 3 The overwhelming
size and economic power of Saudi Arabia afTects the polieies and
orientation of every other state on the Arabian Peninsula. In the case

of the two Yemens, there is an additional extremely important factor:
the lack of internationaHy recognized frontiers between themselves and
the Saudi state - to the north-east and east of the former North
Yemen, and to the north-east of the former South Yemen. While the
two Yemens were resource-poor, and very much involved with their
mutual problems as weH as domestic issues of various kinds, there was
no great pressure to demarcate any frontier. Furthermore, at this time,
both of the Yemens were more or less dependent upon others: North
Yemen received a significant subsidy from Saudi Arabia (in the 1970s
and 1980s), and South Yemen was dependent upon ana10gous
subsidies from the USSR as weH as Hungary, East Germany, Cuba
and others.
This situation changed dramatically in the mid-1980s when oi1 was
discovered in the eastern fringes ofNorth Yemen, and soon thereafter
in the northern fringes (that is, around Shabwa) of South Yemen as
well. Since the two Yemens desperate1y needed additional sources of
foreign exchange for purposes of economic development at a time
when remittance income was tapering off, the new fields were of
immense importance. Their importance became even greater when
large natural gas deposits were found in the same regions - large
enough to warrant intense Saudi interest, and Saudi claims to
territories that had (informaHy at least) always been considered
Yemeni, though, of course, the two Yemens had contradictory claims
to the same areas.
In the late 1980s, the Saudi threat to the economic independence and
development of the separate Yemens was seen as far more important
and of greater long-term disadvantage than any regional or extra-
regional issue, including the presence or threatened presence of the
superpowers. Furthermore, an extended conflict over the territorial
issue would clearly be to the detriment of the two Yemens, and only
benefit others (especially Saudi Arabia). It was these factors that led to
the discussions and negotiations which in turn produced the unity
agreement and the merger of the two states in May 1990.4
The Yemen's history provides an interesting example of two states
with (it must be acknowledged) previously extensive cultural and
economic links, that elected to resolve some if not aH of their security
(internal as well as extemal) and national problems by merging. The
ultimate question, of course, is whether by doing so they have
contributed to the resolution of their problems, made them more
manageable, or merely created new problems and in effect contributed
Manfred W. Wenner 173
little to ending the old ones. On the basis of the current evidence,
which will be covered in greater detail below, the merger will probab1y
produce a lower level of conflict, insecurity and instability in the south-
western corner of the Arabian Peninsula, and probably considerably
reduce the varieties of domestic dispute that used to exist; on the other
hand, it is not yet clear that the major foreign policy issue of the two
Yemens is more amenable to resolution now than before.
An appropriate presentation of the various threats and issues - both
to national integration as weIl as to the various domestic and foreign
security matters - requires some discussion and analysis of the origins
of any security threats, the specific states with which they are
associated, and the specific points of leverage or problem areas that
can be exploited for political purposes. It may, then, be possible to
reach some more general conclusions.
SOURCES OF INSECURITY
The separate parts of the new state of Yemen had very different
historical experiences, as already indicated. Tbe single most important
difference is the association of each with a different foreign power
during the era of colonialism and imperialism. The much longer
experience of independence by the North, and the development of a
clear set of policy goals by the imams during the period 1918 to 1962
resulted in a very different orientation from that which developed in
the South, where a very real and deep-seated anti-colonial mentality
developed, especially in the post-Second World War period.
Domestic fragility
On the other hand, the economic problems which characterized the

two states were quite similar: few goods which could be offered in the
international arena for foreign exchange; relative overpopulation; no
real economic development or diversification; a relatively high percen-
tage of the national budget devoted to military expenditure (due to the
security issues already discussed); and a rather high degree of
dependence upon donor programmes, that is, budget support and
development activities provided by other states (Arab as weIl as non-
Arab).s
The ethnic diversity of the population of North Yemen has often
been considered a source of political weakness or potential divisive-
ness. The reason is that the population, a1though nearly 100 per cent
Muslim, is divided into different Sunni and Shi'a sects, between which
there exists a certain amount of competition, friction, and differential
access to the levers of power and influence. In the North, the Zaydi
Shi'as, although probably a minority of the total, have determined the
political as weIl as the socio-cultural patterns of the state since the
ninth century AD. In the southern areas ofNorth Yemen, as weIl as in
aIl of South Yemen, the Sunni Shafi'is are the majority. Hence, in the
new state, they are now an uncontested overall majority.
It is possible to argue that (i) the Zaydi-Shafi'i distinction has been a
factor in the politics of N orth Yemen, to the extent that fear oflosing
their political influence has influenced Zaydi policy-making; and (ii)
the fact of unification probably heightens this particular reaction, even
if it has not so far clearly influenced any policies in the new state. It is
also possible to exaggerate the distinction. It should be clear, in any
event, that this distinction has not had a significant impact on foreign
policy-making; that is, it affects probably only a smaIl part of domestic
decision-making.
External vulnerabilities: the role of Saudi Arabia
From the viewpoint of the Saudis, the revolution in North Yemen in

1962 was one of the most serious threats to its domina ti on of the
Peninsula as weIl as to the stability of the Saudi regime since its
inception in the 1930s. Aside from the general threat posed by
republican government and its emphasis (at least in theoretical
terms) on various liberal principles, there was also the more specific
threat which the Yemeni revolution's leaders posed, as, for example,
when they proclaimed the founding of a 'Republic of the Arabian
Peninsula'. It was, then, inevitable that the Saudis would seek to
overthrow the new regime, especially when it turned out that the imam
was still alive and was himself attempting to gather domestic support
for his reinstaIlation. So, between 1962 and 1969, the Saudis sup-
ported, through a variety of military, economic and diplomatic
mechanisms, the 'royalist' faction in the Yemeni civil war.
The Saudi position on the Peninsula was, however, further wea-
kened by the departure of the British from South Yemen in 1967. The
British and the Saudis had been de facto allies in their support of the
imamate; but when in November 1967 another republican state was
created on the Peninsula, on their southern frontier, the Saudis were
forced to rethink their policy. The new Yemeni state was considerably
more radical and intransigent in its orientation - both towards Saudi

Arabia as weIl as on various regional and world issues. The Saudis
decided that a moderate republic in the North, the more populous and
economically influential of the two Yemens, would make an effective
buffer state between themselves and South Yemen. As a result, the
Saudis elected to accept the Compromise that ended the civil war in the
North; moreover, they decided to support the new government with
budget subsidies, subsidized oil, and a variety of other measures which
had as their purpose to keep the North from moving too elose to the
South.
This dependency relationship did little to endear the Saudis to the
North Yemenis. When, in addition, the Saudis used other measures
such as bribery, currency manipulation and arms shipments to
favoured groups as levers to influence the central government's
domestic and foreign policies, especially any policies designed to bring
ab out a better or eloser relationship between North and South,
Yemeni attitudes towards the Saudis deteriorated markedly (though
official relations remained correct).
What factors enabled the Saudis to affect Yemeni policies for the
two decades between the Compromise and the merger? These are
relatively easy to enumerate:
Exploitation of the undemarcated border. By continuing payments

and arms shipments to tribai elements on the frontier, the Saudis were
able to accomplish a number of objectives, notably to make the central
government appear weak and ineffective within its own territory; and
to keep the central government on the defensive with respect to its
efforts to implement any policy initiatives in border areas.
Exploitation of the tenuous ability of the central government to control

its own territory. For many years after the Compromise of 1970, the
government was only in complete control of the so-called Triangle,
that is, the territory lying in the triangle bounded by Sana'a,
Hudaydah and Ta'izz. In the north-west, north, north-east and east
there were numerous districts where the tribai elements were in de
facto control (although they sometimes permitted governmental
presences du ring the daylight hours, for example, in the Jawf). By
continuing to provide funds as weIl as arms to many of these tribai
elements, the Saudis effectively held the central govemment hostage
to its territorial and policy in te rests in some important areas of the
state.
Exploitation of the economic weakness of the predecessor states,

especially North Yemen. Abrief outline of the problems should be
enough: (a) a non-convertible national currency, the Yemeni riyal,
which is not even accepted voluntarily everywhere in the country; in
fact, in the areas around Najran, the northern tribes have rather
consistently preferred to deal in the Saudi riyal; and (b) the national
financial and fiscal structures were (and in some cases still are) rather
weak. For example, neither of the two Yemens was able to collect
more than a small fraction of taxes on the remittance income from
their nationals employed abroad. The basic reason was that the
remittances were sent back via themail or through intermediaries,
and therefore never made their way into the local banking system
(which is rudimentary for such purposes in any event), much less into
the hands of any tax-collecting agency of the central government.
A combination of North Yemen's economic weakness and tenuous
ability to control its own territory produced another significant
problem: large-scale smuggling of all manner of goods into Yemen
from Saudi Arabia, thus evading the excise and import taxes that
the central government tried to levy as an independent source of
revenue. The list of goods included all the major categories, especially
vehicles, consumer goods, petroleum, textiles, machinery and electro-
nic equipment - that is, the main purchases of Yemenis interested in
obtaining the kinds of material goods they had never before been
allowed access to.
Exploitation of the expatriate Yemeni workforce. Estimates of the

total number of Yemenis who emigrated to find employment vary
considerably: the lowest estimates are in the range of 350000 to
600000; the highest are in the range of 900000 to 1.25 million (for
both states). During the 1970s, when the economies of the Gulf states
and others were prospering, the total amount of remittances to
Yemen vastly exceeded imports, thus giving Yemen a hefty balance
of payments surplus. When, however, in the 1980s these economies
suffered setbacks and reduced the scale of their development
programmes, many Yemenis were forced to return horne, with the
consequent decline in remittance income. By the late 1980s, when the
first oil revenues began to come in, this drop was offset by the oil
payments, though the impact on domestic demand was, of course,
still considerable since it had been (and still was) primarily the
remittance income that fuelled and paid for the high levels of
consumer demand. 6
The weakness of the Yemeni economy in this regard was most

clearly illustrated by the circumstances of the Gulf crisis of 1990/91.
Yemen took an independent position in the conflict between Iraq and
Kuwait, and was not willing to approve uncritically the vast majority
of the UN resolutions on the subject. As a result, Yemen was seen by
the anti-Iraq coalition as 'uncooperative' and part of the 'enemy
camp'. This position placed Yemen in opposition to Saudi Arabia,
of course, and the latter elected to retaliate in both diplomatic and
economic terms. In the first instance, it ejected nearly all Yemeni
diplomatic personnel from Saudi Arabia - to the point that diplomatic
relations were nearly severed. In the second instance - and far more
important - Saudi Arabia ordered the expulsion of the expatriate
Yemeni workforce as weIl as their dependents. Although precise
numbers are impossible to obtain because of different methods of
counting the individuals affected (on an individual basis; on the
number of passports [which sometimes carry all family members); on
the basis of vehicle counts and so on), there is general agreement that
the total number involved was at least 350000, and perhaps as many as
one million if all dependents are included in the tally.
The expellees were forced to seIl property, abandon holdings and seIl
business enterprises to Saudis, and were not allowed to take with them
into Yemen any property for which a sales receipt was not available.
Since the giving of sales receipts is not a common practice in the
Middle East - not even to foreigners - many Yemenis were essentially
stripped of their personal property by Saudi border officials.
The Yemeni economy was, in a word, completely unprepared and
unable to deal with this massive refugee flow. The price of staples rose
dramatically (upwards of 30 per cent for rice, sugar and so on), the
population of many villages doubled, tripled and quadrupled in a
matter of days, with insufficient housing to accommodate the inflow
(thus creating shanty towns), and the Yemeni riyal's value dipped
significantly (losing about a third of its value). And, of course, thc
additional actions by other countrics (including the United States),
such as eliminating aid and development programmes, further wea-
kened the international position of the country.
What the events of the second half of 1990 and the first quarter of
1991 most clearly demonstrated was how vulnerable and weak the
Yemeni economy really iso The relative youth of thc contemporary
state structures for dealing with economic (financial and fiseal) issues,
the dependence upon remittances for a substantial part of the national
income, the lack of an adequately trained civil service in such fields as
bealtb, education and public services, and the consequent dependence

upon personnel from various donor states (for example, Egypt in tbe
education sector) for various state activities - all tbese are just
examples of major problem areas.
To tbe Yemenis, bowever, undoubtedly the most discouraging
aspect of tbis was tbe discovery that the united state was not less
vulnerable than tbe two predecessor states were. Indeed, it might
almost be argued that it was more vulnerable, since tbe costs of
integrating tbe far more dependent and less developed economy of
the Soutb into tbe North was clearly drawing resources from the
programmes and resources that had formerly been used solely for
development in tbe Nortb.
Exploitation 0/ the dependency relationship. From 1970 to 1990, the

Yemeni economies had been dependent either upon extensive donor
programmes, that is, programmes of financial assistance, training,
seconded personnel and similar mechanisms, to provide both
economic development as weIl as for the infrastructure needed to
provide services. Specifically, as indicated, Nortb Yemen was more or
less dependent upon Saudi Arabia for subsidized oil (until the
discovery of its own oil deposits), as weIl as budgetary support.
Both states were also dependent upon the Western and Eastern blocs
for foodstuffs and consumer goods, as weIl as the multitude of items
needed for development: construction equipment, vebicles, chemicals,
fertilizers, paper and timber products and so on. Since Saudi Arabia
was and is perceived as being of major importance to the Western
economies because of its oil reserves (and compliant production
policies), it was perhaps inevitable that the Saudi viewpoint would
be all-important in many of the decisions made by the Western states
witb respect to Yemen (as weil as otber states on tbe Peninsula). So it
was, for example, that even military equipment sales to Yemen had to
be vetted by the Saudis. This only further aggravated the relationship
between (North) Yemen and Saudi Arabia. Wbat was abundantly
clear to aIl observers, including the Yemenis themselves, was that the
new state was likely to remain economically dependent into the near
future. One consequence was that the Yemenis had to develop
domestic and foreign policies designed to maximize their indepen-
dence. 7
Clearly, in view of the events of 1990/91, this would require an
accommodation with Saudi Arabia (and by mid-1991, some Yemenis
were being allowed to return to Saudi Arabia), and would allow for
very little change with respect to the relationship which (North)

Yemen had developed with the Western world in the twenty-five
years since independence. The decision by President Mikhail Gorba-
chev of the USSR, and of the authorities in East Germany, to end
their support for South Yemen made it imperative that relations with
the Western world be not only maintained but, if possible, also
improved.
Coping with security dilemmas: is unification the answer?
During the era when there were two Yemens, it was possible to develop
aseries of generalizations and propositions that dealt specifically with
the relationship between them, their separate relationships with Saudi
Arabia, and with regional and extra-regional powers. Moreover, it was
also possible to develop some quite reasonable propositions regarding
the security concerns of states such as the two Yemens in abipolar
world, in a region such as the Middle East, and faced with some of the
geopolitical issues of the area.
Some of these dealt with such matters as the consequences of low
legitimacy (since neither system was more than twenty-five years old
and had not developed any real basis for authority other than
instrumentalism, that is, the ability to provide goods and services to
the population). Most suggested that the two states, with their
transnational ethnic affiliations as weil as the historical precedent of
unification, would continue to intervene in each other's affairs and
consequently produce more political instability in an already tense
region. Further, the primary policy concern would be with security
issues, both domestic and foreign, leading to the creation of extensive
and ever larger security apparatuses to defend against various domestic
and foreign threats and enemies."
In the light ofthe experience ofboth North and South Yemen in the
period 1970 to 1990, these were certainly justified and verifiable: both
states could legitimately be considered mukhabarat states, that is, states
in which the security forces wielded an inordinate amount of power,
and exercised considerable influence over domestic policy.
But 1989-91 is a useful check on the tendency to overgeneralize
concerning the security and defence problems of developing states.
There are very few who accurately predicted the rapid decay of the
Communist system in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, or its
impact on other areas and political systems (including in the Middle
East). There are even fewer who accurately predicted the reunification
ofthe two Yemens by 1990 (and I am not among them). The question,
then, is: in view of the vast changes that have taken place in the last
two years, are there any important questions which might lead to
verifiable generalizations based upon these changes?
It seems to me that there are three important questions:
I. Has national security been enhanced as a result of unification? Are

there fewer threats that Yemen must deal with? Alternatively
stated: is the new state more able to cope with existing threats
than the two separate states were able to do alone?
2. Have objective problems, issues and conflicts that affected the
domestic politics of the two separate states been resolved by
moving them to a 'higher plane', that is, to the national level of
a larger, more populous and differently organized state? Alterna-
tively stated: are the objective characteristics of these two states
that have led to political disputes in the past more likely to be
resolved within the framework of a larger Yemen?
3. Have the objective factors that influenced the foreign policy of the
two separate states been made more amenable to solution by
unification? Alternatively stated: has unification made it easier
for Yemen to cope with the intrinsie political and economic
problems that affected the foreign policy decision-making of the
separate states?
On the basis of materials and evidence currently available, and

consideration of what I believe to be the relevant factors, I think the
answer to all three questions is: probably not.
1. The fact that the united state has one less competitor/problem to
deal with, that is, the other Yemeni state, c1early makes foreign-
policy-making simpler, and removes a major problem ofthe period
1970 to 1990. On the other hand, the unified state does not have
that many more resources to cope with what it perceives to be its
major foreign policy problem (Saudi Arabia). Furthermore, it is
quite possible that the process of amalgamation and consolidation
will, at least in the short run, consume time and resources that
might be needed in the foreign policy arena.
2. The number and variety of domestic problems has not diminished
as a result of unification; if anything, it has grown. For example:
unification has not resolved and may even aggravate frictions
between Zaydis and Shafi'is; it has not resolved regional fric-
tions, that is, between the highlanders and the residents of the
Tihama, or between Hadhramis and the various tribai elements of
the western mountains of South Yemen. In fact, it may even
produce new problems for the political system, since the frictions
of the former South now need to be addressed within a larger
framework, which may draw resources away from the amelioration
of other, older problem areas. This is not to argue that these
problems of the North and South are insurmountable or unresol-
vable; it is only to suggest that the allocation of resources among a
now much larger collection of interests (ethnic, regional and so on)
may decrease the ability of the state to deal effectively with other
problems, for example, foreign policy and economic development
being two of the most obvious.
3. As indicated above, both North and South viewed Saudi Arabia as
their most important regional cohort, as weIl as the most im-
portant threat to their economic and political independence. It was
the state which demanded the highest priority in terms of policy-
making time and resources. The unification agreement, however,
may in some respects have weakened the overall Yemeni position,
since the country no longer has any superpower as a provider of
aid - as a strong ally, as weil as a regional influence on other
states, the role the Soviet Union played so effectively for many
years for South Yemen.
CONCLUSION
A few conclusions and comments are in order.

First, the unification of formerly divided states is always more
costly, more complex, and takes longer than originally thought.
Certainly, the experience of the two Germanys provides additional
support for this contention. More generally, the social, economic and
political impact of contemporary political systems is greater than
anticipated. While it is clear that older patterns of behaviour,
exchange, interaction, and even mores, are not easily eliminated or
influenced and will reassert themselves in time, it now seems just as
clear that governments can have a significant impact on such
characteristics in only a generation.
Second, the simple addition of more people and land does not
necessarily improve the political and economic power of astate
(although most believe it does). The access to, and control of,
objective resources which the modem world finds usefu1 is of much

greater importance. The simple fact that Yemen has added some more
people, and a few more square miles of territory, has not materiaUy
improved its international position - either in regional or global terms.
One may sympathize with the Yemeni desire to have others recognize
the country's importance (either historicalor contemporary), but the
modem global economy and political system are considerably more
demanding in granting the kind of recognition which the Yemenis
seek.
Third, as many contemporary critics have charged, not being in
control of the economic resources that the contemporary global
economy values equals political weakness and 'dependency' status.
Yemen's primary export until the discovery of oil was its emigrant
labour force; the experience of the Yemenis at the hands of the Saudis
(and others) illustrates very clearly the tenuous value of this resource.
Of far greater importance in the late twentieth century is oil, which the
Yemenis, of course, now have; on the other hand, the simple owner-
ship of oil, even in massive quantities, has guaranteed neither security
nor even economic independence, much less political stability in most
of the states that have it.
In sum, then, the Yemeni experience since the onset of the civil war
in the North, and leading up to unification in 1990, would seem to
suggest some different generalizations concerning the contemporary
Arab Middle East:
1. Creating ever larger Arab states is no guarantee of security,

stability, or even of greater economic independence. Although
one can understand the historical antecedents of the dream of
Arab unity, and even sympathize with the emotions and motiva-
tions that underlie its contemporary appeal, unification of two or
more Arab states is no guarantee of enhanced economic or
political power or influence. In fact, and I am weIl aware this is
a heresy, it may be that many of the divisions that the Europeans
created in the post-First World War era are either a recognition of
significant inter-Arab differences which have existed for centuries,
or they have, in the seventy-year span since their creation,
developed a sufficiently strong base and rationale that it may
weIl be impossible to undo them quickly or easily, that is, without
a lengthy transition period.
2. Significant political and/or economic as weIl as social change in
the Arab Middle East needs to be more cognizant of the truly
objeetive eharaeteristies of the region: its demographie eharaeter-

isties, the various socio-political traditions that have developed in
different regions, and so on, when designing eontemporary poliey.
These objeetive eharaeteristies eannot be wished away; they
eannot be legislated away; they need to be eonsidered in the
making of effeetive poliey, domestie as weIl as foreign. This is, of
eourse, not to suggest that smaller states sueh as Yemen should
simply accommodate their larger or more influential neighbour(s);
indeed, they should not. It is to suggest that states sueh as Yemen
be prepared to utilize effeetively and quiekly for their benefit
whatever resourees and openings they may be able to develop.
There is certainly evidenee in the modem world that smaller
states, using flexible taetics and limited resources, have been able
to earve substantial niehes and an independent position for
themselves.
Notes
1.On the political history of Yemen since independence, see: Manfred W.

Wenner, Modern Yemen 1918-1966 (Baitimore, Md: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1967); Robert Stookey, Yemen: The Polities 0/ the
Y AR (Boulder: Westview Press, 1978); and J. Petersen, Yemen
(Boulder, Co!.: Westview Press, 1982).
2. On the political history of South Yemen, see Robert Stookey, South
Yemen (Boulder, Co!.: Westview Press, 1982); Joseph Kostiner, The
Struggle tor South Yemen (New York: St Martin's Press, 1984); Tareq
Y. and Jacqueline Ismael, PDR Yemen (Boulder, Co!.: Lynne Rienner,
1986); and Helen Lackner, PDR Yemen (London: Ithaca Press, 1985).
3. On recent events and the relationship between the Yemens, see Fred
Halliday, Revolution and Foreign Poliey (Cambridge University Press,
1990); and Robin Bidwell, The Two Yemens (Boulder, Co!.: Westview
Press, 1983). Richard Nyrop (ed.), The Yemens, 2nd edn (Washington,
DC: USGPO, 1986) is also very useful for basic information on both
Yemens and their relationship.
4. The most up-to-date and complete survey of the importance of Saudi
Arabia to the Yemens is by F. Gregory Gause IH, Saudi-Yemeni
Relations (New York: Columbia University Press, 1990).
5. Although now dated, the best surveys of the economies of the two
Yemens were prepared by the World Bank in the 1970s. See also Ragaei
EI-Mallakh, The Economie Development 0/ the Yemen Arab Republie
(London: Croom Helm, 1986).
6. The literature on the Yemeni expatriate workers has grown to sizeable
proportions; one should begin with Jon Swanson, Emigration and
Eeonomie Development: The Case 0/ the YAR (Boulder, Co!.: Westview
Press, 1979).
7. On more recent developments in Yemen, and the relationship with the

South, see Robert Burrowes, The Yemen Arab Republic (Boulder, Col.:
Westview Press, 1987); and Manfred Wenner, The Yemen Arab Republic
(Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1991). On the relationship with Saudi
Arabia, see Gause, Saudi- Yemeni Relations.
9 Resources, Wealth and
Security: The Case of
Kuwait
Mehran Nakhjavani
KUWAIT'S POLITICAL ECONOMY
Without the diseovery of oil, it is ineonceivable that Kuwait eould

have existed as a modem sovereign state. Laeking any significant
agrieulture or water resources of its own, Kuwait survived into the
twentieth century by dint of shrewd diplomatie manoeuvring and
managed to feed its modest population by trading, fishing and
pearling. The introduetion of eultured pearls in Japan during the
1930s could very well have killed off any prospects for a Kuwaiti
state independent of British interests, however, had it not been for the
Anglo-Persian Oil Company's diseovery of oil in 1938. Even then, it
was a close-run thing. Anglo-Persian (later British Petroleum) spent
years wrangling over Kuwait in a turf batde with Ameriean oil
companies that forced it to give an equal stake to Gulf Oil. 1 Then,
having won the concession, it was unwilling to explore for and develop
oil because it already bad huge reserves in nearby Iran and because the
oil market was glutted. It took fifteen years for oil to be discovered, a
furtber ten years for produetion to begin in 1948, and it was only after
Mohammed Mossadeq's nationalization of Iranian oil in 1951 that
Kuwaiti oil produetion exceeded half a million barrels a day. There-
after, development was rapid, with output doubling by 1954 and
redoubling in 1962.2 By that time, Kuwait was important enough to
be worth fighting for: British troops were rushed to the defence of the
newly-independent state to deter Iraqi military threats in 1961.
Just as oil effectively underwrote Kuwait's national identity in the
post-colonial world, oil was also the basis for all of its eeonomie
activity during two decades of uninterrupted growth and a further
decade in the doldrums of the 1980s. Kuwaiti national accounts data,
following accepted international norms, show approximately 60 per
cent of its Gross Domestie Produet (GDP) at eonstant prices derived
from oil during the 1980s. This substantially understates the influence
185
186 Resources, Wealth and Security: Kuwait
of oil in the economy. The only sectors entirely independent of the oil
industry - agriculture and fishing - contributed less than 1 per cent of
GDP throughout the 1980s. The trade sector inc1uded a thriving re-
export trade, which was greatly reduced by the effects of the Iran-Iraq
war, but even in its heyday this business contributed only 1 per cent of
GDP. 3
In modern times, an other economic activity in Kuwait has been
direct1y determined by the level of oil revenues generated by the
government, and the transmission of those revenues through the
public sector into the private sector of the economy. With the
expansion of the country's oil refineries in the late 1980s, the
manufacturing sector trebled its output between 1984 and 1989 and
increased its share ofGDP by 9.5 per centage points to 14.3 per cent of
GDP, all of which was directly attributable to the petroleum down-
stream, although measured as part of the non-oil sector. Construction
and real estate contributed 11 per cent of GDP by the end of the 1980s,
and were closely correlated to the level of direct government contracts
as wen as its purchases of land from the private sector (a traditional
wealth transfer mechanism in Kuwait). Indeed, welfare and social
expenditure by the government rose steadily, even during the relatively
austere late 1980s, and accounted for 18.8 per cent of GDP in 1989,
compared with 11.9 per cent in 1980.
A paradox of Kuwait's economic management is that although oil
has been fundamental to the state's existence and survival, oil revenues
have, to an intents and purposes, been regarded as current income
rather than a wasting asset. In a twist to H. Hotelling's c1assic natural
resource theory, the state has chosen to generate excess oil revenue (by
selling more oil than it needs to meet its expenses) and has then treated
this financial surplus with the respect due to a precious capital asset. 4
Whereas other oil exporters either absorbed an their oil revenue or
used financial surpluses only as temporary buffers to finance current
account deficits in lean years, the Kuwaitis put a substantial portion of
their surplus into a 'Reserve Fund for Future Generations' (RFFG).
This has resulted in a peculiar accounting system for government
finance. Non-oil revenue accounts for only one-eighth of state
revenues, the rest being derived directly from oil. s Income from the
state's substantial investments, which in years of low oil prices such as
1986--87 exceeded oil revenue, are not inc1uded in the government's
budget calculations. On the other hand, the RFFG receives an annual
transfer of 10 per cent of state revenue, and this is inc1uded in the
budget as an item of 'expenditure'.
Mehran Nakhjavani 187
The result is that since the mid-1980s, Kuwait has published aseries
ofmassive budget deficits, which in the 1990/91 fiscal year reached the
equivalent of 22 per cent of GDP. That order of domestic deficit, if an
accurate reflection of the state of the treasury, would generate severe
domestic inflation and put Kuwait on a par with Egypt or Morocco in
terms of its international credit rating. 6 The financing of these
phantom deficits is also a matter for fiscal smoke and mirrors. The
govemment issues treasury bills which have been funded with govem-
ment deposits earmarked for the purchase of the public debt instru-
ments. These are bought either by its own investment agency and
pension fund, or by commercial banks.
The need to show large domestic deficits in Kuwait has been closely
linked with the nature of the political compact under which the Al
Sabah family has ruled the state in modem times. Before oil revenues
swelled the state cofTers in the 1950s, the Al Sabah family had scant
means of financial support. Unlike the merchant families with whom
they had migrated to Kuwait in the eighteenth century, the Al Sabah
family did not engage in pearling or trading activities and relied on
customs fees and various minor levies. Oil income accrued to the state,
embodied by the amir, and this greatly changed the economic
relationship between the Al Sabah family and the merchant families.
A new convention arose that the Al Sabah family could enjoy oil
wealth in addition to political power as long as the wealth was
distributed among the grand families and the power was exercised
in a consensual rather than autocratic manner. A constitution was
drawn up (by Egyptian legal experts) in 1962 which identified the
people as the source of power as expressed through an elected
parliament, and accorded the Al Sabah family the status of constitu-
tional monarchs. In practice the franchise was strictly limited to the
Kuwaiti elite, and the Al Sabah family were much more than mere
constitutional monarchs. 7 All members of the royal family received
state stipends and the critical portfolios in the cabinet - including the
Prime Minister, Foreign Minister and Interior Minister - have been
reserved for members of the family. During the 1980s, a new
generation of technocratic members of the ruling family also rose to
prominence and dominated the oil and financial sectors of the
economy.
Under this political compact, the merchant families and their
network of trading and contracting companies, banks and investment
companies, were granted a defacto oligopoly ofthe domestic economy.
As oil wealth was channelled into local infrastructural projects, this
arrangement yielded rich and risk-free rents for the elite. In the
absence of discemible risk on the part of investors, rampant specula-
tion was inevitable and on five occasions resulted in a collapse in stock
and land prices. In 1963, 1973, 1975, 1977, and again in 1982, the
government ensured that the elite was rescued with state funds,
although the baleful effects of the last crisis, with its US$92 billion
worth of unpaid debts, cast a long shadow over the banking system for
the rest of the decade. 8 In the mid-1980s, the Kuwaiti govemment
simultaneously faced three major demands for financial support. Iraq,
in the darkest days of its war against Iran, needed finance to head off a
threat of Iranian revolutionary hegemonism. The Kuwaiti elite,
including influential members of the ruling family, were reeling from
the effects of the stock exchange collapse. Oil prices were spinning
down, apparently out of control, and oil revenues could no longer be
relied on to pay the bills, so that after 1984, the govemment budget
was in chronic deficit.
In 1985, the first of aseries of 'austerity' budgets was launched by
the finance ministry, accompanied by enormous local publicity. Usage
charges were introduced for some social services, subsidies on basic
commodities were cut, project spending and government land pur-
chases were reduced, and limits imposed on the employment of
foreign workers. The measures were designed to have maximum
impact on the daily life of the average Kuwaiti and were supposed
to convey the message that budget deficits were a significant and
deleterious economic fact of life, and that the govemment did indeed
have limited resources. The curious accounting rules used by the
govemment greatly assisted in maintaining this crisis atmosphere,
which the govemment used in order to limit financial aid to Iraq
(substituting for it in 1984 with oil loans) and to reduce the
expectations of prominent bankrupts and their creditors of a whole-
sale bail-out.
on poliey and OPEC politics

Tbe Kuwaiti oil industry has experienced three distinct phases. Its
early years, between 1946 and 1972, were characterized by foreign
ownership and a sustained increase in output, to a peak of 3.28 million
barrels per day in 1972. During an intermediate period, from 1972
until 1980, the industry was nationalized and reorganized, and output
was subject to conservation limits which had cut it back by a half to
1.66 million b/d in 1980. In its third phase, the industry embarked on
downstream and overseas upstream investment and integration during

a depressed period for oil prices which imposed OPEC quota limits on
its domestic output. Oil policy changed significantly in each period,
with Kuwait's actions usually reflecting those of the OPEC 'moderate'
tendency, as embodied by Saudi Arabia.
In its early period, Kuwait's concem initially was to convince BP
and Gulf (through their joint venture, Kuwait Oil Company - KOC)
that more effort was needed to expand exploration and development
activity. In 1958, Kuwait raised eyebrows in 'big oil' circles by
awarding a concession for exploration in the Neutral Zone to the
Japanese-owned Arabian Oil Company, then an unknown player in
the market. Relying on the modest royalty payments offered by the
major oil companies, and tied to concession agreements which left
production decisions to KOC, the Kuwaiti govemment's oil policy was
mainly restricted to expressions of outrage and Arab solidarity in
forums such as OPEC and the Arab Energy Congress. Reflecting its
support for the Palestinian cause, Kuwaiti statements during this
period suggested that it would welcome the use of the 'oil weapon'
against Israel, although when push came to shove in 1967, the
Kuwaitis were, at best, reluctant pan-Arabists.
As the relationships between the major oil companies and producing
countries shifted in the early 1970s, OPEC in July 1971 called on its
members to begin nationalizing their oil, but it was OPEC's hawks at
the time - Venezuela, Libya and Iraq - who led the charge. Kuwait
was initially among the least aggressive of the OPEC members, and it
was not until November 1972 that it signed the General Agreement on
Participation (GAP), along with Saudi Arabia, Qatar, the UAE and
the oil companies. 9 Under the GAP terms, Kuwait took a 25 per cent
share in KOC as of January 1973, a stake which was then supposed to
be increased incrementally to reach 51 per cent by 1982. Compensation
was paid for largely in crude oil deliveries. However, even before the
onset of the October war in 1973, the Kuwaiti line hardened, with a
demand for an immediate 60 per cent shareholding in KOC. After war
broke out, Kuwait embargoed both the USA and the Netherlands and
imposed production cutbacks in line with Arab decisions. Kuwait
eventually struck a deal for 60 per cent with BP and Gulf Oil in
January 1974, but by the end of 1975 it was demanding 100 per cent,
which resulted in an arbitration dispute with one of the minor
concession-holders, but which Kuwait eventually achieved without
undue difficulty. Production was cut back rapidlyon the grounds of
reserve life conservation and the need to match its financial needs, so
that output declined by 500 000 b/d a year in 1974 and 1975. However,
during the rest of the 1970s, Kuwaiti oil poliey lost its hard edge, and
supported Saudi Arabian arguments, whieh allowed a deeline in the
real price of oil as the purehasing power of the US dollar declined.
Kuwait remained a producer and exporter of erude oil, and like the
other OPEC eountries, found itself dependent upon the shipping,
marketing and distribution networks owned by international oil
eompanies.
A unique Kuwaiti oil poliey did not emerge until the second oil
shoek of 1979/80. With its domestie infrastruetural investment pro-
gramme largely eomplete, Kuwait had no obvious home for the sudden
rush of oil revenue resulting from the price inereases associated with
the onset of the Iranian revolution and the politieal instability it
engendered in the Gulf. Although eonstantly warning against the
folly of price inereases, a massive war ehest was quiekly accumu-
lated, while the price shoek and the resulting economie recession in the
OECD eountries offered tempting opportunities for downstream
integration. What resulted was an imaginative restrueturing of the
industry, with the formation of the Kuwait Petroleum Company
(KPC) in 1980, which embarked on an ambitious domestic refinery
eonstruetion programme aimed at adding value to the eountry's crude
exports. In 1981, KPC started aseries of major overseas aequisitions,
starting with Santa Fe Braun, a large US oil engineering eompany, and
eontinuing in Europe with the ineremental purehase of refineries and
retail distribution networks from distressed oil eompanies such as
Mobil and Gulf Oil. KPC also invested in overseas exploration and
in the tanker business, so that by the end of the deeade it eontrolled
750000 b/d of sophistieated refining eapacity in Kuwait, and owned
retail outlets in Europe whieh took some 600000 b/d of its own
produets in Britain, Italy, Sweden, Denmark and the Benelux eoun-
tries. It eontrolled 75000 b/d of erude produetion in China, Egypt,
Indonesia and other developing eountries, and had a fleet of thirty-two
vessels. To all intents and purposes, KPC had beeome a major
international integrated oil eompany.
Within OPEC, Kuwait had already warned that high priees would
result in a loss of market share, and took to the system of produetion
pro-rationing with equanimity after it was reluetantly imposed by
OPEC in the erisis year of 1986. Kuwait's own produetion ceiling
had been reduced to 1.25 million b/d in 1982 - less than two-fifths its
level of a decade before - and it argued that the pain inflieted on
OPEC members would make them more susceptible to a sensible long-
M ehran N akhjavani 191
term prieing poliey in the future. Kuwait's position was therefore

almost identieal to that of Saudi Arabia, then under the tutelage of
Sheikh Ahmed Zaki Yamani. After the Saudis lost their nerve in
Oetober 1986, dropping Sheikh Yamani and the 'swing producer' role
he had assumed for the Kingdom, and instead trying to maximize oil
revenue, the Kuwaitis were left in an inereasingly isolated position
within OPEC. IO
For Kuwait, with average production eosts of USSO.15jbarrel, the
eollapse of oil prices in 1986 did not resllit in production shut-ins due
to uneeonomie wells. In this it was no different from other OPEC
members. However, unlike the latter, Kuwait was eaming handsome
downstream profits as refiners' margins widened with the lower erude
price. Furthermore, unlike other OPEC members, Kuwait's domestic
budgetary problems resulting from lower oil revenues were of an
essentially eosmetie nature. Whereas most other OPEC members had
a strong vested interest in keeping production cuts in place, and in
eonvineing non-OPEC producers to eo-operate in bringing order to a
glutted market, the Kuwaitis needed to pay only lip service to these
issues. They did have a strategie interest in keeping the Iraqi eeonomy
afloat - via the provision of oilloans and price maintenance - for as
long as Iraq was at war with Iran, from whieh Kuwait faced a major
threat. With the effective end of that war in the summer of 1988, this
motivation no longer existed, and Kuwait took an inereasingly
aggressive line within OPEC.
Kuwait flouted OPEC quotas on the grounds that other countries
were eheating. It started pressing hard within OPEC for an inerease in
its own quota at the expense of others. During the second half of 1989
it forrnally opted out of the OPEC quota fold altogether, and was
rewarded with a substantially higher quota in January 1990, whieh it
then proceeded to flout openly. Kuwaiti officials justified this un-
eompromising line by arguing that they were doing everyone else a
favour. The eonsumers were getting a stable source of oil, and the
OPEC producers were getting back their market and ensuring that
price rises did not kill off the demand for their oil again. With the
Kuwaiti eurrent account in substantial surplus throughout the 1980s
and a domestic budget surplus (even by their own definitions)
reappearing in 1990, the Kuwaiti position was seen by others in
OPEC to be a far more self-serving one.
A eommon theme runs through Kuwaiti oil poliey throughout the
last three decades. Kuwait has essentially pursued its own interests,
while adopting various OPEC and pan-Arab objectives as and when
these have fitted in with its requirements. Tbroughout it has demon-

strated an ability to take opportunistic advantage of external events,
and when it has feIt strong it has been prepared to make enemies,
whether among the international oil companies in the 1970s or among
its OPEC colleagues in the 1980s.
The foreign investment strategy
In early 1953, with Kuwait a significant oil producer for the first time,
the emir set up the Kuwait Investment Board on behalf of himself and
his successors under the aegis of the Bank of England. Tbe Board
purchased 'gilts' (British government securities) and began acquiring a
few UK requisites in 1958-59. 11 In 1965, the Kuwait Investment Office
(KlO) was formed in London, and the Bank of England's discre-
tionary control over Kuwaiti investments ended. All the Board's
investments were transferred to the name of the State of Kuwait,
rather than the emir personally. As a sovereign investor, the KlO
continued to use Bank of England nominee accounts and remained
tax-exempt. It operated with a very wide latitude of discretionary
power, and always in the most secretive and discreet manner. By 1969,
Kuwaiti government statistics indicated that the state's foreign invest-
ments totaled US$1425 million.
After the 1973 oil shock, Kuwait faced mounting criticism at home
that it was gene rating excess revenue (so that it cut back oil
production) from overseas that it, along with other OPEC produ-
cers, was not spending - or 'recycling' - their oil wealth responsibly. In
1974 a big property purchase in London generated negative publicity
for Kuwait, and led to a rethinking of the investment strategy. Tbe
solution was announced in 1976, when Sheikh Jaber al-Ahmed al-
Sabah (then prime minister and since 1977, the emir) set up aReserve
Fund for Future Generations (RFFG), which was to receive 10 per
cent of the government's annual revenue and which would remain
untouched until the year 2001. Tbe funds of the RFFG were invested
abroad, and with inflation rising in Britain and other OECD it was
natural that equities and real estate were preferred to treasury bills.
The KlO was never the sole investment manager for Kuwaiti funds.
Indeed, it was not even the largest one, and was expected to compete
with international investment banks in terms of the performance of its
discretionary portfolio. By the early 1980s, Kuwait had major
investments outside the Uni ted Kingdom which were far beyond the
competence of the KlO itself. Known Kuwaiti stakes at that time in
Afehran }{akhjavani 193
Germany were in Daimler Benz, Mannesman, Krupp and Siemens. In

Japan they had bought into Toshiba, Hitachi, Mitsubishi, Nippon
Mining and Nissan, and they had stakes of more than 1 per cent in at
least fifteen of the largest US corporations, including Dow Chemical,
J. C. Penney, McDonalds and Burroughs.
In addition to the KlO, the Kuwaiti government encouraged local
investment companies to participate in the management of interna-
tional bond issues, and after 1974 allowed foreign entities to borrow
bonds denominated in Kuwaiti dinars in order to stimulate a local
capital market. However, the KD bond market suffered from the
patchy quality of borrowers, and Kuwaiti companies rarely succeeded
in winning mandates in the Eurobond markets. 12 After the collapse of
the local stock market in 1982, many of these domestic institutions
were left with massive losses, and this aspect of the investment strategy
- namely to create a financial industry at home - failed to meet
expectations.
After the second oil shock, Kuwait's foreign investments were
placed under the control of the Kuwait-based Kuwait Investment
Authority (KIA) in 1982. 13 Constant political pressure within the
national assembly resulted in some embarrassment for the govern-
ment over such marginal issues as purchases of shares in alcohol-
related industries. It was also required for the first time to publish
regular audited statements of the holdings of the RFFG and the
deployment of its assets, which further raised political hackles at
home as it became apparent how small was the share of assets
invested in ideologically sound (that is, Arab and Islamic) countries.
The exercise in democracy was regarded as a tremendous nuisance,
especially by the Finance Minister at the time, Sheikh Ali Khalifah al-
Sabah. With the dissolution of the assembly in 1986, no further
information on the foreign investments was ever published. Tbe last
set of figures indicated that in June 1985 the RFFG had USS35.4
billion worth of assets, of which the KlO controlled USSI7.4 billion.
The rest of the RFFG was in Europe, the USA and Japan, with the
exception of USS7 billion in Kuwait. Tbe RFFG earned an implied
rate of return of 6.5 per cent in 1984/85. 14
Tbe RFFG at that time accounted for just half of the government's
total reserves. Tbe remainder were placed in the State General Reserve
(SGR), which has none of the RFFG's restrictions on use, and when
last counted officially in June 1985, contained USS34.2 billion, of
which 60 per cent was invested locally, 31 per cent was in Arab
countries, and 4 per cent represented Kuwait's equity in international
organizations. lS It contains much of the illiquid bail-out funds used by

the government and as a result earned an implied rate of return of only
2.4 per cent in 1984/85.
With the removal of domestic political constraints after the dissolu-
tion of the national assembly in July 1986, Kuwaiti foreign investment
policy shifted gear in a dramatic fashion. Two major changes occurred:
accounting policies in the RFFG were adjusted to allow for a
considerable shifting of assets between it and the SGR, in effect
allowing for a faster drawdown of liquid reserves to meet domestic
budgetary requirements. Secondly, the KIO's profile changed funda-
mentally from that of a long-term secretive silent partner to an almost
swashbuckling short-term market raider.
Although no official confirmation is ever Iikely to be forthcoming,
the largest commercial bank in the country, National Bank of Kuwait,
went public in September 1987 with charges that assets in the RFFG
had been revalued at current value rather than being kept at book
value. Tbis was in itself a modest change of the accounting rules, but it
pointed to much more. Tbere was a budgetary requirement during the
1985/86-1986/87 fiscal years for reserve drawdowns totalling USS6.3
billion, based on the strict1y-defined deficits recorded and the fact that
no alternative public sector borrowing existed at the time. 16 In
addition to this, the govemment was required during this time to
deposit the equivalent of USS1.68 billion in the RFFG as its annual
contributions. So, theoretically, the State General Reserve would have
had to produce a total of nearly S8 billion during these two years. Tbe
last official indicator of the SGR showed that it only had USS1.7
billion worth of liquid funds available. 17 Tbe arithmetical conclusion is
inexorable: either RFFG funds were drawn down (in contravention of
the law of the land) or a more elegant solution was used, whereby
RFFG assets were exchanged for illiquid State General Reserve assets
at book value, and then revalued at current market prices, with the
resulting profits being treated as investment income from the SGR and
used for the purpose of deficit financing. This sort of accounting could
never have passed muster with a sitting national assembly, and it
continued long after the introduction of public sector debt financing in
November 1987: 8 The fact that it was permitted is indicative of the
closely-held control exercised by a small royal circle including the emir,
his personal financial adviser, the KlO chairman Sheikh Fahd
Muhammad al-Sabah and Sheikh Ali Khalifah al-Sabah, who held
the oil portfolio throughout the 1980s as weil as finance at various
times: 9
Under the direction ofthis group, the KlO embarked on a wholesale

change of image after 1986. Acting in partnership with prominent
Spanish financiers, the KlO went on a spending spree in Spain and
invested US$1 billion in the period 1984-88.20 The investments were
concentrated in banking, paper and pulp, chemieals and food proces-
sing, and created considerable disturbance in the small Madrid capital
market. The KlO successfully launched Spain's first hostile stock
market raid (against Ebro in 1988), and followed this with enforced
mergers in the chemical sector, between Explosivos Rio Tinto and
Cros. In doing so, the KlO had the tacit support of Spain's Socialist
government, wh ich was keen for foreign capital and industrial
restructuring to meet the challenge of entry in the European Commu-
nity. However, it generated spectacular displays of ill-feeling in
traditional financial circ1es as weIl as xenophobie press coverage.
When the KlO ventured into banking, it bit off more than it could
chew, and was obliged to divest its holdings after failing to create the
country's largest bank by a merger which would have left it as the
largest single shareholder.
The KIO's biggest coup came not in Spain, but in Britain. The crash
of the stock market in October 1987 found the KlO in a cash-rich
position, having liquidated a number of important stakes during the
summer. It also left the British government's privatization of British
Petroleum in tatters, as the offer price became unattractive and
investors lost liquidity. Acting initially as a minor sub-underwriter of
the BP issue, the KlO smelled an opportunity and snapped up BP
shares immediately after the stock market crash. Within days, the KlO
held a 10 per cent stake of BP - an ironie turnaround considering BP's
own associations with Kuwait. Despite numerous signals from BP's
management and the British govemment itself, the Kuwaiti stake
continued to rise, and eventually reached 21.6 per cent in early 1988.
The British govemment then referred the deal to its own monopolies
commission, which in September 1988 ordered the Kuwaitis to reduce
their stake to 9.9 per cent. They agreed to seIl half their stake back to
BP at the end of 1988, and in so doing were handed a handsome profit
of US$700 million. The commission's argument was that as an OPEC
member, Kuwait could not be a disinterested investor in BP, despite
the Kuwaitis having given various legal assurances that they would not
further increase their stake, not seek board representation, and limit
their voting rights to 14.9 per cent. 21 The Kuwaitis, for their part,
objected strenuously to what they regarded as iII-treatment, but their
case was hampered by the widespread belief that the ultima te buyer of
196 Resources. Wealth and Security: Kuwait
the BP stake was not the KlO but KPC itself and that the whole deal
smacked of the personal intervention of the then Oil Minister and
KPC chairman, Sheikh Ali Khalifah al-Sabah. 22
The Kuwaiti stake in BP was also criticized in Kuwait. Deputies of
the banned national assembly and prominent economists asked how it
was that Kuwait's investments, which were supposed to provide the
country with balanced future income, were being concentrated in the
oil sector. It has been estimated that without the forced divestment, the
BP stake would have constituted 79 per cent of the KIO's investment
portfolio - hardly a prudent ratio and so untypical of the KlO's
historically balanced portfolio as to imply that KPC rather than the
KlO was the ultimate investor. 23 Other questions also arose over the
manner in which the stake was purchased, and in particular why the
stake was increased after the initial 10 per cent had been acquired,
when there were so many political signals being given by BP and
Whitehall that this would not be welcome. The Kuwaitis have never
explained this latter point, except to say that they did nothing illegal or
unethical.
Kuwaiti investment in the Arab world has taken two distinct forms.
Commercial investments have been made, mainly by the oil and
petrochemical industry but also including the private sector, with the
most successful being in Tunisia, Morocco and Egypt. Concessional
assistance has been liberally spread throughout the Arab world, and
since the establishment of the Kuwait Fund for Arab Economic
Development (KFAED) in 1961, has been carried out on an increas-
ingly professional basis. 24 KFAED in its early years disbursed aid
funds on a more or less ad hoc basis, following the political exigencies
of the times, but since the late 1970s it has generally followed the
methodology of the World Bank and other comparable institutions.
The peak year for Kuwaiti foreign aid was 1982, when US$1.6 billion
was disbursed, of which 4S per cent was handled by KFAED. This
level of foreign aid represented 4.3 per cent of its GNP. By 1986 the
proportion had dropped to 2.9 per cent of GNP as the down turn in oil
revenue was feIt in the foreign aid budget, and since then has slipped
even further, to 1.2 per cent in 1987 and 0.4 per cent in 1988. Before
the aid downturn of the mid-1980s, about 40 per cent of Kuwait's aid
went to the Arab 'confrontation states' of Syria, Jordan and the
Palestine Liberation Organization. In addition to this, there has been
a substantial volume of unreported aid to Iraq. During the first years
of the Iran-Iraq war, the Kuwaiti government granted loans totaling
US$4.S billion to Iraq, and then provided 'war relief crude' from the
Neutral Zone, which was to be repaid in kind whenever Iraqi export

outlets were made accessible. 2s
Kuwait's overseas investments have, for the most part, been made
on the basis of hard-nosed business criteria. As such they have
generally been extremely successful, especially in comparison to the
foreign aid and investment strategies pursued by other oil producers
such as Saudi Arabia, Abu Dhabi and Iran. However, Kuwait's
foreign exposure has shifted the perception of its activities away from
the benign view of a small state wanting to make friends and needing a
safe haven for its reserves - as existed in the 1960s and 1970s - to one
of suspicion and even fear as it simultaneously became a major player
in capital markets and one of the largest integrated international oil
companies in the world.
THE VERDICT OF HINDSIGHT
In view of Iraq's invasion of Kuwait in August 1990 and the massive

damage caused as a result, it is perhaps too easy to look back at
Kuwaiti policies and find the seeds of its self-destruction being sown.
Undoubtedly, Kuwaiti oil policy greatly exacerbated Iraq's chronic
economic problems after its cease-fire with Iran in 1988. Kuwait
terminated its oil loan arrangement in 1989, and openly flouted its
OPEC quota at a time when prices were crumbling, knowing full weil
that every USSI drop in the price of a barrel of oil resulted in a USSI
billion annual foreign currency loss to the debt-burdened Iraqi
economy. Kuwait's adamant refusal, even after Iraq's loss of the
Fao peninsula to Iran, to contemplate a leasing arrangement for Iraqi
forces to use the islands of Warba and Bubiyan presaged its post-war
demand for a definitive border agreement with Baghdad. Juxtaposed
with the question of war debts, this smacked of blackmail from the
Iraqi point of view. If Kuwait was intent on blackmailing its large and
infinitely more powerful neighbour, it committed a major political
error in assuming (as it must have done) that Saddam Hussein would
be constrained from any aggressive act by his sensibility for Arab
unity, and in failing to take sufficient note of Iraq's influential friends
in the Arab world. 26
If this is considered too harsh a verdict, it is perhaps instructive to
quote from a study on Kuwait published by The Economist Intelli-
gence Unit in July 1990, and written long before Iraqi sabre-rattling
raised the prospects for overt tension between Baghdad and Kuwait:
A remarkable alteration is apparent in Kuwait's relations with the

world at large. Tbe old policies requiring that the state avoid at all
costs making enemies abroad and minimize criticism of its unearned
wealth are crumbling rapidly. In its place a thrusting set of self-
seeking lines are emerging, leaving a confusion of opposing courses
of action by official agencies in overseas aid, investment and
diplomacy. Whether the new found aggression fully takes account
of the deep dependence of Kuwait on the positive goodwill,
tolerance and protection of the outside world seems unlikely.
Therefore, inevitable shocks lie ahead for the regime and the
country.27
On the other hand, Kuwaiti policy resulted in some notable successes.

In the first place, its government-in-exile found itself in the unique
position of facing virtually no cash constraints despite the loss of the
entire country to Iraqi invading forces, and was even able to pledge a
cash grant of USSS billion towards the military costs of its allies. Its oil
industry continued operating overseas despite the loss of most of its oil
production and refining assets. Its diplomats continued to operate
effectively in foreign capitals and successfully maintained allied
support in tbe difficult months after tbe invasion. Although undoubt-
edly assisted in this regard by the savagery and brutality exhibited by
Iraqi forces and tbe widespread international sympathy for its plight,
all these Kuwaiti successes would bave been impossible in the absence
of a long-standing diversification strategy and years of careful
diplomatic bridge building.
While it is tempting to pass judgement on the past record of tbe
Kuwaiti government, it is important to determine to what extent
Kuwait's despoliation in 1990-91 is the inevitable fate of a small and
insecure country with high per capita GNP. This has obvious
implications for other similar states in the region, sucb as Qatar and
the members of the UAE, as well as for the likes of Brunei, Trinidad
and Tobago, and Botswana.
Despite its considerable natural resource endowment, Kuwait bas
vulnerabilities which it shares with other small and resource-rich states.
It is fundamentally dependent on tbe price of its principal resource - in
Kuwait's case, crude oil. As an active member of OPEC, Kuwait has
had some influence over the price of crude oil, but this has been
exercised only in extreme market conditions. During a glut, it has been
able to overproduce and depress prices further. During a physical
shortage it bas contributed to further upward pressure on prices by
aggressive marketing. 28 However, beyond such tactical moves and the

ability of its Oil Minister to talk prices in the spot market up or down
for a few days at a time, Kuwaiti influence is still limited. Within
OPEC, Kuwait's output share before the Iraqi invasion was at a high
for the decade but was stilliess than 7 per cent, although it controlled
13 per cent of OPEC's proven reserves of crude oil. The only oil
producer in modem times to have seriously attempted manipulating oil
prices was Saudi Arabia, which controls one third of OPEC's oil
reserves, and whose role as swing producer for the organization ended
as a costly failure in 1986.
It was in recognition of its inability to influence oil prices that
Kuwait undertook its downstream integration strategy. It was not the
first OPEC producer to attempt such a strategy - the Venezuelans
had been selling refined products to the USA since the 1960s - but its
rapid acquisitions in Europe during the early 1980s pre-dated similar
moves by Libya, the UAE and Saudi Arabia. Taking the plunge early
meant that Kuwait bought its downstream assets at a better price
than did the latecomers. But its trailblazing role and its eschewal of
joint ventures resulted in legal and regulatory problems which other
OPEC countries leamt to avoid. Apart from the furore over its stake
in BP, KPC faced steady sniper fire over its proprietary retail brand-
Q8 - in Europe. When the Libyans went downstream in the Italian
market they avoided many of these problems by remaining anon-
yrnous at the retail level. When the Saudis went into the US market,
they set up a joint venture, which owned the Texaco name, and
thereby dissembled their stake entirely. The Kuwaiti desire to go it
alone cost them dearly in the Far Bast, where all OPEC producers
have long been trying to get a downstream toehold: KPC managed to
win entry into Thailand only. The Saudis, by opting for a joint
venture, got the coveted South Korean market. 29 Recognising the
limitations of the earlier macho strategy, Kuwaiti officials after the
Iraqi invasion argued that in future they wouldbe prepared to
consider joint ventures overseas.
Even with the huge financial cushion built up during years of high
oil prices, Kuwait found its domestic economy buffeted by the
collapse of oil prices in 1986. Ironically, its use of the cushion was
partly constrained by concems for domestic political stability and
economic discipline after the stock market crash and its attempt to
ward off excessive financial demands from Iraq. This was not the only
constraint, however. Kuwaiti investment policy in the early 1980s,
pursuing the goal of diversification away from oil, placed a high
priority on long-term investments and guarded against any temptation

to use the latter in order to pay for the government's current
spending.
In attempting to diversify its economic base away from crude oil,
Kuwait faced two other constraints. Firstly, it needed a large infusion
of foreign labour in order to build up its domestic infrastructure, and,
having been hooked on cheap foreign labour, found it impossible to
revert to a more balanced population profile. By 1990, less than 40
per cent of its population were Kuwaiti citizens, despite a decade of
economic planning designed to reduce dependence on foreign
labour. 3o
Secondly, it needed access to foreign financial markets, which it was
able to enjoy only for as long as it acted as a low-key passive investor.
As soon as it flexed its considerable financial musc1e it found itself
subject to unwelcome foreign regulatory. control and hostile public
opinion. Attempts to develop its own financial market collapsed with
the local speculative bubble in 1982, itself an indicator of the lack of
depth of the capital market and the immaturity of most of its financial
institutions.
In the absence of credible multilateral security arrangements
(whether regional or international) small, rich states such as Kuwait
face a major dilemma. If decisions regarding the development of their
resource-based industries or the deployment of financial assets are
made on the basis of security considerations alone, this implies a
passive and low-key 'friend of all' profile. However, such a policy
involves measurable costs in terms of the missed opportunities for
economic or financial benefit that would accrue as a result of a more
nationalistic or aggressive strategy. On the other hand, pursuit of the
latter course of action with respect to industries which are of strategic
value to other countries will inevitably result in conflict. In the case of
military conflict, the consequences can be unimaginably drastic. But
even when conflicts are confined to the political or commercial arena,
it is unlikely that a small country, especially one in the developing
world, has access to significant leverage in a sufficiently broad area to
be able successfully to prosecute a controversial policy vis-a-vis any of
the world's super or middle powers, or indeed against a jealous and
stronger neighbour.
Within the limits imposed by this dilemma, however, the case of
Kuwait does suggest one further lesson for small states. For as long as
Kuwaiti society offered a semblance of democracy, with a relatively
free press and cantankerous domestic political opposition, senior
decision-makers were obliged to steer a course that took due care of

foreign politieal sensibilities. 31 The existence of this safety valve did
not prevent Kuwait from undertaking ambitious or opportunistie
initiatives with respect to its economie poliey. It did prevent, how-
ever, sueh eontroversies as the KIO's role in Spain and BP, the
sustained flouting of OPEC quotas and the provocation of Iraq. In
many ways, therefore, Kuwait's Aehilles heel proved not to be its size,
but its govemance. 32
Notes
1. See A. H. T. Chisbolm, The First Kuwait Oil Concession (London: Frank

Cass, 1975) for a detailed description of the early oil negotiations in
Kuwait.
2. OPEC annual Statistical Bulletins, various years.
3. According to Central Bank of Kuwait data, and based on tbe drop in tbe
sbare oftotal trade to GDP in tbe peak year for re-exparts, 1981 (8.9 per
cent) to its average level in 1987--89 (7.8 per cent). At their peak, re-
exports totaled USSI.5 billion in 1981. By 1989-89 tbey averaged USS500
million a year at current prices.
4. According to Hotelling, natural resources will be left in tbe ground if
tbeir value is growing at an average annual rate exceeding tbe rate of
interest. In the Kuwaiti case, with oil prices rising faster than interest
rates between 1972 and 1981, production continued, albeit at a mucb
reduced rate, and large financial surpluses were accumulated. See
H. Hotelling, 'Tbe Economics of Exhaustible Resources', Journal 0/
Political Economy, 39 (1931) pp. 137-75.
5. An average of two-thirds of 'non-oil' revenue is derived from fees for
government services. Customs revenue usually accounts for about a
quarter of the total.
6. EIU, Kuwait Country Report (1990) p. 11.
7. Only Kuwaiti males directly descended from tbe original settlers of the
area were permitted to vote. In 1985, 18 per cent of adult Kuwaiti citizens
were enfranchised, equivalent to just 5 per cent of all adult residents in
tbe country. In 1976 and 1985 tbe national assembly was dissolved by
emiri decree, and in 1990 a consultative assembly was elected - all in
disregard of the constitution.
8. See J. F. Seznec, The Financial Markets 01 the Arabian Gulf (London:
Croom Helm, 1987) pp. 55-67.
9. See I. Seymour, OPEC: An Instrument olChange (New York: St Martin's
Press, 1980) for a detailed account of OPEC politics and tbe byzantine
negotiations leading up to tbe participation agreements.
10. For tbe story of Sbeikb Yamani's sacking, see J. Robinson, Yamani: The
Inside Story (London: Simon & Scbuster, 1988). His sudden departure
left Kuwait's Oil Minister, Sbeikb Ali Kbalifah al-Sabab, as tbe most
influential and prominent proponent of tbe view that oil prices must not
be allowed to increase sbarply for fear of furtber stimulating non-OPEC
production and encouraging the substitution of oil by other forms of

energy. Together with bis dismissive personal style, tbis meant he was
unable to pick up Yamani's mantle as OPEC's peacemaker.
11. Tbe London-based Paul Barker Associates has provided consistently
reliable coverage of Kuwait's overseas investment strategy, wbich is
otherwise the subject of much conjectural press comment. See Paul
Barker, 'Tbe KlO: Its European Strategy and Influence', speech deliv-
ered to the Royal Institute of International AfTairs, London, July 1988.
(Quoted with the author's pennission.)
12. See Mehran Nakhjavani, Arab Banks and the International Financial
Markets (Nicosia: MEPEP, 1983) pp. 67-80.
13. Tbere followed a protracted turf battle between the bureaucratic and
centralized KIA and the autonomous, hands-on-style managers at the
KlO, with the latter finally conceding efTective control over its portfolio
in March 1990, following extensive management changes.
14. National Bank of Kuwait, Economic and Financial Bulletin (Fall 1987)
p.l0.
15. Economist Intelligence Unit (EIU), Kuwait Country Report (London:
EIU, 1986) p. 7.
16. EIU, Kuwait in the 199Os: A Society Under Siege, EIU Special Report
2035 (London: Economist Intelligence Unit, July 1990) p. 13.
17. Tbe assumption being that SGR funds invested locally, those invested in
Arab countries, and Kuwait's equity in international organizations, were
not amenable to liquidation, leaving only KDS12.3 million of SGR
investments in non-Arab countries as the 'liquid' portion of the SGR
as of 1985.
18. After treasury bills and bonds were introduced in 1987, retail investors
and commercial banks quickly lost their appetite for buying them in
sufficient volume to finance the deficit. Consequently the KIA itself (via
the Central Bank) had to buy some USS3 billion of its own govemment's
paper. See EIU, Kuwait Country Report (London: EIU, 1989) pp. 8--9.
Under the terms of economic reforms introduced in late 1989, Kuwaiti
banks who received cheap govemment deposits to help them cope with
bad debts were obliged to use these funds to purchase T-bills.
19. Tbe emir's personal financial adviser is Khaled Abu Sa'ud, a naturalized
Palestinian banker. Mr Abu Sa'ud has been most closely associated with
Kuwait's involvement in the Lebanese banking scene during the 1960s
and 1970s. As a result of the turmoil in Lebanon during the 19808, these
investments have been among the least profitable and most problematic
in the KIA portfolio.
20. EIU, Kuwait Country Report (London: EIU, 1988) p. 15.
21. EIU, Kuwait Country Report (London: EIU, 1990) p. 16.
22. See Barker, 'Tbe KlO'. Sheikh Ali Khalifah al-Sabah, for bis part, was
full of disingenuous denial. In early 1988 he assured an audience in New
York that the first he had heard of the BP deal was by reading the
newspapers. Middle East Economic Suney, 31, 18 (8 February 1988)
p. B3). At the time, Sheikh Ali was on the board of the KIA, in addition
to bis other duties.
23. See Barker, 'Tbe KlO'.
24. The KD2 billion (USS6.67 billion) capital of KFAED is regarded as an

investment of the govemment's financial reserves. KFAED has, since
1986, been self-financing and its annual disbursements dropped to less
than USS250 million during the late 19805. Approximately two-thirds of
the value of KFAED's loans have gone to Arab countries.
25. The monetary value of these loans, at historical prices, is about USS9
billion, equivalent to approximately 450 million barrels of Khafji crude.
26. For a discussion of lraq's Arab allies, see Mehran Nalchjavani, Iraq:
What if Sanctions Fail? EIU Special Report 2080 (London: Economist
Intelligence Unit, October 1990) pp. 26-9. All lraq's sympathizers were
also substantial recipients of Kuwaiti aid and investment, particularly the
PLO, Jordan and Tunisia. The alternative explanation, that Kuwait
believed its oil policy, its war loans and the border question could be
treated as three unrelated bilateral issues, would be tantamount to an
admission of incompetence and is entirely untypical of Kuwait's foreign
policy track record. Iraq had given ample notice of its displeasure prior to
August 1990: during a visit to Baghdad by the Kuwaiti Prime Minister in
February 1989, over a soccer competition in Kuwait in March 1990 and
again during the Baghdad Arab Summit in May 1990.
27. EIU, Kuwait in the 199Os, p. 63.
28. Examples of this attitude abound. In the crisis years of 1979 and 1980,
Kuwait (unlike the Saudis) had no qualms in breaking the OPEC USSI8/
barrel price set in June 1979 in the wake ofthe capture ofthe US embassy
in Tehran. In 1980, it abruptly cancelled its long-term supply agreement
with BP and cut volume by two-thirds, on the grounds that it needed
more flexible marketing arrangements.
29. Middle East Economic Survey, 34, 9, 3 December 1990, pp. AI-A6. Saudi
success in penetrating the Far East by using joint ventures was further
demonstrated by a ground-breaking USS4.3 bn agreement between Saudi
Aramco and Nippon Oil to build refineries in Saudi Arabia and Japan.
Middle Bast Economic Survey, 34, 35 (3 June 1991) pp. A4-A5.
30. Kuwait's first census in 1957 showed 55 per cent of the population to be
Kuwaitis, but this had fallen to 42 per cent by 1980. See Ministry of
Planning, Central Statistical Office, Annual Statistical Abstract.
31. The Kuwaiti national assembly, after all, had sitting members represent-
ing the Ba'ath party when it was dissolved in 1986. Kuwait's post-1988 oil
policy is unlikely to have been the same had their views been aired
publicly.
32. In the wake of the Gulf War, Kuwait's strategie options have been
significantly reduced. The country's extemal security policy is subject to
the effective vetoes of Saudi Arabia and the USA (and to a lesser extent
Syria and Egypt). Its foreign policy is emasculated by the need to curry
favour in Riyadh, the intense animosity with respect to Iraq and the
latter's wartime supporters, and the effective rupture with the Palestinian
cause. These factors make it difficult to play the traditional Kuwaiti
'friend of all' role or even to aggressively play regional interests against
each other. On the internal front, the AI Sabah family has maintained its
grip on power, but at the cost of alienating a previously passive and
apolitical segment of the population. The quarter of the Kuwaiti
204 Resources. Wealth and Security: Kuwait
population which remained under oocupation have little to be grateful to

the Al Sabahs for. Stateless Kuwaiti residents have ample reason to feel
bitter at their exclusion from state largesse. Palestinian residents have
been Made scapegoats for the calamities of the invasion, and face a bleak
and uncertain future.
One of the world's most prolific low-cost oil industries was all but
destroyed during the war, largely as a result of Iraq's scorched-earth
withdrawal from Kuwait during the last week of February 1991. Iraqi
forces mined the oil fields and set explosive charges at most of Kuwait's
wells, which triggered uncontrolled fires at an estimated 600-700 of
Kuwait's 1080 oil wells. Kuwait's estimated losses of crude oil from
these fires were estimated at 6-7 million b/d during the first six post-war
months. Although damage to Neutral Zone production was not cata-
strophic and production there resumed in June 1991, Kuwait was able to
produce only 50 ()()() b/d from its own oilfields by June, less than 3 per
cent of its output a year previous. While repairs to Kuwaiti production
facilities allowed output to increase during the second half of 1991,
extensive damage to Kuwait's export terminals meant that significant
exports could not begin until the end of the year. Moreover, it is a
measure of the decline in Kuwait's inßuence within the GCC that its
request to activate a 1987 oil-sharing agreement was rejected by the
Council's oil ministers in May 1991.
Kuwait's room for financial manoeuvre was sharply reduced as a result
of the beavy cost of the war and Kuwait's support for its allies, tbe
estimated costs for reconstruction, and the need to borrow arising from
the unwillingness to liquidate its own assets and the uncertain availability
of Iraqi reparations. At least USS20bn was spent in direct military
support of the USA, Britain and France, plus aid to states such as
Turkey and Egypt who were discomfited by the efTects of sanctions on
Iraq. A further USSlbn was provided as a loan to the USSR. This had
the efTect of reducing the Kuwaiti government's liquid foreign assets by a
third. Estimates of the costs of reconstruction vary widely with each
telling. On the basis of a UN mission's damage assessments, the costs are
of the order of USS14bn plus whatever it takes to repair the physical
damage to the oil industry - yielding a global figure of perhaps USS20bn.
For a summary of damage to the Kuwaiti oil sector, see Mehran
Nakhjavani, After the Persian Gulf War (Ottawa: Canadian Institute for
International Peace and Security, Working Paper 34, March 1991) pp. 7-
9; and Nakhjavani, The Implications for Economic Development of the
Persian Gulf eruu anti Its Aftermath (Ottawa: United Nations Associa-
tion of Canada, May 1991) pp. 7-8. See also the statement by Kuwait's
Oil Minister quoted in MiddJe Bast Economic Survey, 34, 36 (10 June
1991) pp. A8-A9.
Part Three
Security as Development?
State-Building, Economic
Development and the Military
Introduction
In Part One contributors explored the contours and changing char-

acteristics of the regional security environment in the Arab world. In
so doing, they established the magnitude of security challenges
deriving from both (external) military and (internal and external)
non-military sources. In Part Two, specific attention was focused
upon the latter through detailed case studies of insecurities deriving
specifically from underdevelopment and the Arab world's subordinate
placement in the global political economy. Part Three continues these
analyses, but reverses their emphasis. In other words, if the Arab world
is characterized by both military and developmental threats to security,
to what extent have the Arab security establishments constructed to
deal with the former also addressed the dilemmas and challenges
generated by the latter - and with what implication for Arab states,
economies and societies?
THE MILITARY AND ARAB STATE-BUILDING
The relationship between the military and political development is a

complex one. In the Western European context, warfare played an
often central role in the emergence of the contemporary state system
by eliminating weaker political units, forging distinctive national units,
and by spurring the development of the administrative and extractive
capabilities of the state - vital, in turn, to resource mobilization and
hence survival in an uncertain and insecure international environment.
External threats have generally been less important to state formation
in the Third World, where decolonization provided a rather different
route to the emergence of contemporary political units. I Here,
however, a number of other factors have served to assure the military
an often prominent, and frequently predominant, role in post-colonial
politics. These include a continuation of the political role of armed
national liberation movements into the post-colonial period; the
furtherance or protection by military personnel of their institutional
interests (pay, promotion, privileges); the use of the military as a
vehicle for upward mobility or access to political power by ethnic
206
Introduction to Part Three 207
communities and social classes; or conservative efforts to suppress

populist demands from below, leading to the emergence of bureau-
cratic-authoritarian states. In all these cases, military praetorianism
seems to be generally related to low levels of political institutionaliza-
tion (which invites the direct application of political power outside
institutional channels) and to dependency and underdevelopment
(which fosters economic conditions unconducive to political stability).2
In the Arab world, both security and developmental factors have
been important in shaping the role of security establishments in the
post-colonial period. With regard to the former, a majority of Arab
states have been at war at some point since 1945, most notably in a
protracted conflict with Israel since 1948. This insecure regional
environment has served to magnify the importance placed on security
establishments: in the mid-1980s, Arab states devoted an average of
15 per cent of GNP to military expenditure, compared"to an average of
5.6 per cent for the developing world as a whole. 3 With regard to the
latter, much the same forces that spurred military intervention in other
parts of the Third World could be seen to be at work in the Middle
East too. 4 In addition to those countries that came into being through
protracted wars of national liberation (Algeria and the former South
Yemen), a majority of Arab states experienced some form of military
intervention in politics in the period between the end of the Second
World War and 1970. s Those military regimes that came to power
more often than not did so on areformist and developmentalist
platform, pledging to modernize society and the economy.
Among Arab countries, the state-building role of the military has
generally been least important among the conservative states of the
Gulf. Despite the important role that tribaI warfare historically played
in state formation,6 contemporary Gulf security forces are clearly
subordinate to ruling royal families - a subordination achieved by
limiting the numerical size of the armed forces, by appointing members
of the royal family to the senior officer corps, and by creating loyal
military and security institutions linked to the regime by tribaI and
patrimonialloyalties. 7 Equally important, massive petroleum earnings
have obviated the need for the state-building and developmentalist role
assumed by the military elsewhere. It has also assuaged some of the
social tensions that, in other contexts, have spurred popular discontent
and hence set the stage for military intervention intended to secure
either public order or social reform. 8
As both Elizabeth Picard and William Zartman suggest in their
chapters, such a state-building role has been played by the military
208 Introduction to Part Three
elsewhere in the Mashreq and in the Maghreb, whether directly (as a

primary political power) or indirectly (as a major tool, ally, or
supporter of non-military elites). Zartman examines the experience
of Morocco, Tunisia, Algeria, Libya and Sudan, and finds (with the
possible exception of the latter two cases) that the armed forces have
been generally supportive of efTorts to construct a stable political
order, and that the primary reasons for failure largely lie elsewhere.
Picard, focusing on the eastern Arab world, underscores both the
direct seizure of power and the central role of the security forces in the
statist development programmes of post-colonial regimes.
This centrality would seem to stem, at least in part, from the
acuteness and interaction of both the security and developmental
factors discussed above. As Picard notes, continued involvement in
militarized disputes has spurred military institutions to assume a more
active role in politics - a relationship most immediately evident in the
wave of coups that followed defeat in the first war with Israel in 1948.
At the same time, conflict has provided the rationale for substantial
petrodollar aid to confrontation states (most notably in the US$31
billion in aid earmarked for Jordan and Syria at the 1978 Baghdad
Arab summit conference), which itself may serve the purposes of state-
building. 9 Finally, the Arab-Israeli and other external conflicts have
been used to justify extensive domestic censorship and suppression of
dissent, facilitating the imposition of strict internal security measures. 10
Tbe end result - in Ba'athist Syria and Iraq, at times in Jordan and
Egypt, and elsewhere too - has been the emergence of the mukhabarat
(security, or literally 'intelligence') state. ll While the concept obscures
critical historical and regional variations, it does suggest the extent to
which stat~ociety relations have become heavily militarized in a
number of Arab countries.
THE MILITARY AND ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT
By sheer virtue of their size, military. establishments are often

significant economic actors within Third-World societies. Moreover,
military involvement in politics invariably involves economic dimen-
sions, a connection strengthened by the underdevelopmental sources of
many forms of Third-World insecurity.
The actual impact of Third-World militarization on socio-economic
development, however, has been a subject for considerable scholarly
debate. Some have argued that military expenditure has an essentially
positive impact on the economy by increasing aggregate demand,

increasing the efTectiveness of capital utilization, and by spin-ofT
benefits in the areas of technology and technical skills. 12 Others have
rejected this view, suggesting that military expenditure crowds out
civilian investments, distorts industrialization, and is made at the
expense of other important state outlays (education, health, economic
infrastructure).13 Still others suggest that is is not possible to generalize
about the relationship between the twO. 14 Equally debated is the
impact of military regimes on the development process. Through the
1950s and 1960s the military was frequently seen as one of the few
institutions in society with the organization or skills to take on the
task, or with the power and determination to make the necessary hard
choices. Since the 1970s, however, increasing doubt has been cast upon
the supposed economic management skills of military regimes. 15
The impact ofmilitarization on economic development is ambiguous
in the Arab case as well. 16 The salience of non-military, underdevelop-
mental sources of regional insecurity in the Middle Bast, the role of the
military in state-building in a number of Arab countries, the devel-
opmentalist rhetoric typically espoused by military regimes, and the
vast societal resources allocated to Arab military expenditures, how-
ever, all underscore the importance of examining the possible relation-
ship between the two.
The most obvious form of military involvement in economic
development is that of military industrialization. In his examinati on
of the three largest Arab arms producers (lraq, Egypt and Saudi
Arabia), Yezid Sayigh suggests that immediate national security
requirements - the production of military goods so as to reduce
dependence on external sources of supply - appear to have been the
primary motivating factor. Economic imperatives - military produc-
tion as an engine of local industrialization, a form of import
substitution, or as a potential export sector - have been less impor-
tant, although the last two do operate as potential incentives and
constraints.
Sayigh also suggests that while military industrialization has gen-
erally not led to the emergence of a military-industrial complex per se
in Arab countries, it has sustained important institutional, political
and economic interests. Moreover, as Fred Lawson noted earlier, the
military's involvement in the economy is broader than military
industrialization alone. In several cases Arab military establishments
have branched out into a much wider array of enterprises. One motive
for this, Elizabeth Picard suggests, has been to assure supplies of scarce
goods. She also notes, however, that the process has been linked to the
military's influence within regulated economies. State regulation has
created ample opportunities for military patronage, on both an
individual and an institutional basis, with patrimonialism, nepotism
and corruption becoming commonplace.
DEMOCRATIZATION AND THE DEMILITARIZING OF

DEVELOPMENT
Tbe contributors to Part Tbree all agree that development, both

political and economic, enhances state security. They are less con-
fident, however, about the contribution that security forces can
ultimately make. Sayigh, for example, is generally doubtful about
any positive contribution of military industrialization to the broader
economy (although, recognizing that arms production is likely to
continue, he also suggests that current investments could be more
effectively employed). Picard finds the balance sheet of authoritarian
developmentalist regimes in the eastern Arab world to be 'clearly
negative'. Zartman, meanwhile, suggests a fundamentally contradic-
tory dynamic at the heart of military state-building: the greater the role
of the military the more 'secure' the state may be against immediate
internal and external challenges, but at an eventual cost to political
development. In other words, overemphasis on security may ultimately
weaken the state by hindering political accountability. Tbis contra-
diction finds parallel expression in Picard's analysis of the changing
political and economic role of the military in the context of economic
liberalisation and opening (infitah). While the clientelism of the
emerging coalitions between the military and the munfatihun (bene-
ficiaries of infitah) may become a key part of regime maintenance, it
also serves to undermine economic efficiency and ultimately political
legitimacy.
What, then, of the prospects for demilitarizing development and
state--society relations, and of liberalizing and democratizing the
political process in those countries where internal and external
security apparatuses now figure prominently? Assessing in detail the
prospects for such a transition represents a task beyond the scope of
this volume. 17 On the one hand, conditions of continuing regional
insecurity are hardly propitious for reducing the role of Arab military
establishments or dissassembling the mukhabarat state. One should not
underestimate the ability of authoritarian regimes to retain power
through terror, as Saddam Hussein's durability in the face of economic

sanctions, coalition military attacks, and uprisings by Kurds and
Shi'ites in northern and southern Iraq has attested. Nor should one
underestimate the potential ability of military institutions, despite
having largely returned to the barracks, to constrain political dis-
course and development by threat alone. 18 On the other hand, Picard
notes a steady withdrawal of Arab militaries from direct power, as they
act less in the role of 'rulers' than of 'brokers'. Moreover, failures of
the authoritarian developmentalist model, growing economic pressures
on oil-poor Arab countries, declining post-Cold War support from
external patrons, and the surge of democratization in Latin America
and Eastern Europe (as weIl as more modest experiments in Egypt,
Jordan and elsewhere) may collectively increase pressures for a
restructuring of state-society relations on a more participatory basis.
Yet there are dangers in this too. Although stable patterns of
participatory and accountable politics may enhance national security
in myriad ways, there is little reason to believe that democracy -liberal
or otherwise - is necessarily stable. Indeed, the experiences of both
Sudan and Lebanon suggest the potential pitfalls. Moreover, as Picard
reminds us, the margin between careful liberalization and an uncon-
trolled social explosion is a narrow one, rendered all the narrower by
years of repression and the suppression of many of the institutions of
civil society that have proved so important to political transitions
elsewhere in the world. Democratization would certainly enhance the
'security' of those Arab citizenries presently subject to arrest, deten-
tion, torture and even execution at the hands of authoritarian regimes,
and is desirable for that reason above all else. Yet regardless of where
it may lie ahead in Arab political futures, the process of achieving it
may involve local and regional insecurities all its own.
Notes
1. Charles Tilly, 'War-Making and State-Making as Organized Crime', in

Peter B. Evans, Dietrich Rueschmeyer and Theda Skocpol (eds), Bringing
the State Back In (Cambridge University Press, 1985); JefTrey Herbst,
'War and the State in Africa', International Security, 14,4 (Spring 1990).
2. Samuel Huntington, Political Order in Changing Societies (New Haven,
Conn.: Yale University Press, 1968) pp. 192-263; Ellen Kay Trimberger,
Revolution From Above: Military Bureaucrats and Development in Japan,
Turkey, Egypt and Peru (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Books, 1978);
and David Collier (ed.), The New Authoritarianism in Latin America
(princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1979).
3. Data for 1984, drawn from Ruth Sivard, Wor!d Military and Socia!
Expenditures 1987-88 (Washington, DC: World Priorities, 1987) pp. 43-
4. For an attempt to understand the possible theoretical relationship
between external violence and internat repression, see Ted Robert Gurr,
'War, Revolution and the Growth of the Coercive State', Comparative
Politieal Studies, 21, 1 (April 1988).
4. Elizabeth Picard, 'Arab Military in Politics: From Revolutionary Plot to
Authoritarian Regime', in Giacomo Luciani (ed.), The Arab State
(London: Routledge, 1990) p. 216. It has been argued by some that
particular political-cultural legacies of Islam and Ottoman rule render
Arab countries particularly vulnerable to military rule, for example, J. C.
Hurewitz, Middle East Polities: The Mtlitary Dimension (New York:
Praeger, 1969) p. 15.
5. Between 1960 and 1970 alone, at least thirty-eight coup attempts
occurred, twenty of them successful. Khaldoun Hasan Naqeeb, 'Social
Origins of the Authoritarian State in the Arab East', in Eric Davies and
Nicolas Gavrielides (eds), Stateera/t in the Middle East: DiI, Historica!
Memory and Popular Culture (Miami, Flo.: Florida International Uni-
versity Press, 1991) p. 53.
6. Albert Hourani, 'Conclusion: Tribes and States in Islamic History' , in
Philip S. Khoury and Joseph Kostiner, Tribes and State Formation in the
Middle East (Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 1990)
pp. 307-8.
7. In Saudi Arabia, for example, the regular armed forces have deliberately
been limited in size, and counterbalanced by a well-armed National
Guard recruited from loyal tribes. Many of the commanders of the
Guard and of the air force (the most critical of the three components
of the regular forces) are drawn from the royal family.
8. This is not to say that all military discontent has been eliminated; the
Saudi authorities, for example, executed some 200 members of the air
force in 1969 for allegedly plotting a coup. For the most part, however,
coups and attempted coups in the Gulf emirates - in Abu Dhabi in 1966;
in Oman in 1970; in Qatar and al-Sharjah in 1972; in al-Sharjah in 1987 -
have been of the 'palace' rather than 'military' variety.
9. At the height of its aid receipts in 1980, Syria received no less than
USS1.8 billion in aid from all sources (representing 12 per cent of GNP),
while Jordan received USS1.3 billion (an amount equivalent to more than
a third of total GNP). The Baghdad summit commitments (only partially
fulfilled) expired in 1988. Other examples of the connection between
conflict and external state revenues could be found in the estimated
USS50-60 billion provided to Iraq by Kuwait and Saudi Arabia during
its war with Iran, and in the billions of dollars of aid and loan relief
provided to Egypt and Syria by the GCC states during the 1990-91 Gulf
crisis.
10. On the linkage between the Arab-Israeli conflict and Arab political
development, see Walid Kazziha, 'The Impact of Palestine on Arab
Politics', in Luciani (ed.), The Arab State; Rex Brynen, 'Palestine and
the Arab State System: Permeability, State Consolidation and the
Intifada', Canadian Journal 0/ Politieal Seienee, 24, 3 (September 1991);
Inlroduclion 10 ParI Three 213
Valerie Yorke, Domestic Politics and Regional Security: Jordan, Syria,

Isrtll!l (Aldershot: Gower, 1988).
11. For a penetrating examination of state repression in the Iraqi context, see
Samir al-Khalil, Republic 01 Fear (New York: Pantheon, 1989).
12. For an influential statement of the positive economic effects of defence
spending see E. Benoit, Delence and Economic Growth in Developing
Countries (Boston, Mass.: D. C. Heath &; Co., 1973). Later research
suggests that the relationship may hold true in military but not civilian
regimes, and may not contribute to an improved general standard of
living. Robert E. Looney, 'Militarization, Military Regimes, and the
General Quality ofLife in the Third World', Armed Forces & Society, 17,
1 (Fall 1990).
13. Among many others, see Saadet Deger, Military Expenditure in Third
World Countries (London: Routledge, 1986), and Miles Wolpin, Militar-
izalion, Internal Repression and Social Welfare in Ihe Third World
14. Abdur R. Chowdhury, 'A Causal Analysis of Defence Spending and
Economic Growth', Journal 01 Conjlict Resolution, 35, 1 (March 1991).
15. Karen Remmer, 'Evaluating the Policy Impact of Military Regimes in
Latin America', Latin American Research Review, 13,2 (1978).
16. For a discussion, see Alan Richards and John Waterbury, A Political
Economy 01 the Middle East: State, Class and Economic Development
(Boulder, Co1.: Westview Press, 1990) pp. 353-73.
17. For a discussion, see Michael Hudson, 'Democratization and Legiti-
macy', Middle East Studies Association Bulletin, 22, 2 (December 1988).
18. Ahmed Abdalla, 'The Armed Forces and the Democratic Process in
Egypt', Third World Quarterly, 10,4 (October 1988).
10 Arab Military
Industrialization:
Security Incentives and
Economic Impact
Yezid Sayigh
Prior to the 1990-91 Gulf War, three out of twenty-one Arab states
possessed, or were developing, significant defence industries. These
were Egypt, Iraq and Saudi Arabia. Of the three, Egypt has the
10ngest-established industry, with a history of ambitious efforts at
local design and development in such major areas as aircraft and
ballistic missiles. Iraq was a newcomer, but under the pressure of
combat needs during the first Gutf war (with Iran) it made rapid
strides that brought it almost on a par with Egypt in terms of variety
(except aircraft), volume and local content. In contrast, Saudi Arabia
had only modest productive capabilities, but possessed the financial
means to implement the broad plans it had under way for military
industrialization.
Of course, the aftermath of the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait in August
1990 may yet cast a wholly new light on Arab military industrialization
efforts. After all, the Iraqi arms industry was extensively damaged
during the Gulf War and will suffer a shortage of funds as the country
pays punitive reparations in years ahead. Sanctions imposed by the
UN and others may also constrict the flow of components, tools and
military technology to the sector, in addition to the limitations that
might be set on the size of Iraqi armed forces and on the types of
weapon they are allowed to field. I
For its part, the Saudi leadership may have concluded from the
experience of the Gulf crisis that outside assistance is more dependable
than locally-based military power, and so might curtail its original
plans for indigenous production of military hardware. Egypt might
conceivably draw similar conclusions and employ the opportunity
offered by Western debt write-offs to divert resources into economic
development rather than reinvest in its arms industry. Furthermore,
214
Yezid Sayigh 215
the overwhelming dominance achieved by Western forces during the

conflict due to high-tech weaponry, munitions and supporting equip-
ment may reduce the attractiveness of local manufacture - because it
surpasses their existing technical and industrial capabilities - or raise
its costs to them immeasurably.
None the less, a number of factors may lead the main Arab arms
producers to renew their etTorts at military industrialization. Although
the restrictions imposed on Iraq are sweeping, they may not entirely
impede reconstruction of at least part of the local arms industry.
Indeed, the embargo may encourage even greater emphasis on
indigenous production in order to raise autonomy, however slightly.
Certain sectors might prove easier to refurbish and resupply: those that
involve low-tech manufacturing processes or products (ammunition
and certain spare parts, for example), or that overlap with civilian
industry (such as electronics). Furthermore, a number of major arms
producers have avested interest in maintaining at least part of the
Iraqi market, whoever is in power; private companies in the West or
sympathetic third countries might also assist in the transfer of military
technology. Moreover, a range of countries, from China and North
Korea to Brazil, South Africa and the East Europeans, need export
markets.
While national security would be the driving force behind any future
Iraqi arms production, the main incentive for Egypt is to preserve the
large investment it has already made in military industrialization. In
practical terms, commercial and economic considerations, in that
order, would shape Egyptian policy. In this context, the opportunity
for Egypt to otTer itself as a protector of Gulf security and to project
itself as an Arab regional leader once more (by pursuing the
Palestinian-Israeli peace process and reviving the disunited League
of Arab States) would provide the justification for continued arms
production and a renewed export drive. The fact that Arab ground
forces - in the Gulf and elsewhere - will still need low-to-medium
technology military hardware leaves some scope for Egyptian industry;
indeed, this requirement is also an argument in favour of Iraqi and
Saudi industrialization.
Saudi Arabia faces a particular dilemma, because the Gulf crisis
revealed the inadequacy of its previous twin-track defence policy.2 On
the one hand, this depended on high-tech weapons systems, which the
kingdom could not properly support without overwhelming reliance
on foreign personnei, while on the other it was based on keeping the
armed forces deliberately small and organizationally divided, in order
216 Arab Military Industrialization
to prevent threats to the ruting family and socio-political system.3 In

the post-crisis phase, however, the Saudi military will have to raise the
proportion of local input to its own defence, whether by providing a
greater share of technical support services (maintenance, repair,
training and logistics) or by increasing the size of its standing army,
or both. In either case, the need for qualified personnel and for low-to-
medium technology and equipment will increase, enhancing the value
of indigenous military industrialization.
That said, much can be leamt from analysing the incentives and
impact of military industrialization in Egypt, Iraq and Saudi Arabia
prior to the Gulf crisis. In each of these countries the defence industry
is almost wholly state-owned, although a number of private companies
operate within the sector in both Egypt and Saudi Arabia. Overall
output rose substantially in the 1980s, with Egyptian capacity
estimated at USS1.S billion annually and exports valued at a peak of
USSI billion in 1982 and S300-S00 million yeady in 1983-88.4 Many
of these exports were in fact re-exports of ordnance from Egyptian
Army inventories, but the local industry is stated to be able to provide
60 per cent of all armament needs (funds allowing). S Equivalent figures
are not available for Iraq, though it is assumed to have provided many
of its own 'combat consumables' in 1986-88, and one 1989 report
stated that the govemment intended to invest a total of USS20 billion
in its defence industry in the coming years. 6 Its Egyptian counterpart
required US$4-6 billion for development, only part of which was
forthcoming. In both countries up to 100000 persons were employed
in defence production by the end of the 1980s, with far lower figures
for Saudi Arabia, which produced only a small number of infantry
weapons and small- and medium-calibre munitions.
The considerable expansion of indigenous defence production in the
1980s indicated the importance attached to the sector by Arab
govemments. Yet this came at a time of intensifying commercial
competition globally - due in part to the general increase in number
and activity of Third-Wodd arms producers and exporters - and of
accelerating technological change, the implications being that military
hardware was readily available in wodd markets and that local
products were liable to become rapidly obsolete. Why then invest
major financial and industrial resources in developing an indigenous
manufacturing base?
Tbe argument presented in the first section of this chapter is that
Arab perceptions of national security imperatives have formed the
main incentive for military industrialization. As will be indicated, the
Yezid Sayigh 217
classic economic arguments put forward in support of local arms

production have been either secondary or unfounded in the Arab
case. On that basis, this chapter will go on to discuss the continuing
importance of security/defence as apredominant incentive in the
foreseeable future, and finally to debate the economic dimensions of
military industrialization and its impact on development.
INSTITUTIONAL FACTORS
Before moving further, however, a brief note of methodological

caution is in order. Tbe process of military industrialization in any
country cannot be understood solely in terms of the rationalistic
arguments concerning national security and the economy that form
the nominal basis for top-level decision-making. Rather, the identity of
the decision-makers themselves and the nature of the processes by
which decisions are reached or influenced, form equally significant
factors. Expressed difTerently, military industrialization must also be
seen as a function, or at least a reflection, of the development of
military institutions and elites and of the process of state-building in
the countries concerned.
Following this line of analysis in Chapter 5, Fred Lawson argues
that industrialization in the post-war Arab economies has been a direct
extension of the state's role, to the extent that institutions belonging to
the latter have become 'firmly entrenched within the institutional
structure of the economy in virtually all contemporary Arab coun-
tries'. He adds that this trend accelerated in the 1980s, 'when a wide
range of construction and manufacturing establishments under the
direct control of the armed forces began to play a prominent role in the
internal economic afTairs of Syria, Iraq, and Egypt', Tbus a symbiotic
relationship has emerged between the process of state-building and the
consolidation of new social forces that have evolved within the
expanding institutions of the state - with the army, or army and
ruling party often in the forefront.
In her contribution to this volume, Chapter 12, Elizabeth Picard
concurs with Lawson, noting the dominance of the 'everything to the
state' logic in the post-war period. She also stresses the growing role of
the military establishment. On one hand, the requirements of modem
defence generate a tendency to upgrade equipment and raise its level of
complexity, leading to increased costs and to efTorts at substitution
with local products: in both cases military elites exert pressure for the
allocation of needed resources. On the other hand, the armed forces

have promoted local production in order to 'escape the general lack of
goods'. Ironically, thanks to disguised subsidies and to close collabora-
tion with the large public sector, the military establishment in several
Arab states has even managed to turn such shortages to its advantage
by branching out into other sectors of the civilian economy, including
agriculture, as both Lawson and Picard observe.
Unfortunately, there is insufficient information to analyze this
phenomenon in the Arab context in any depth, and so definitive
statements cannot be made on the extent and forms of influence
exerted by the armed forces in support of military industrialization.
None the less, the case of Egypt, with its long history of indigenous
arms production, suggests a close linkage between the latter process
and that of state-building. Reinforcing the connection has been the
long involvement of former officers in various economic ventures,
especially (hut not exclusively) in the public sector.
As important is the evident emergence during the 1980s of the
Egyptian Army, under former Defence Minister 'Abd al-Halim Abu
Ghazalah, as a major autonomous power base wielding substantial
economic and financial resources. Indeed, its influence extended
beyond the allocation of those resources for military industrialization
and development, to afTect foreign policy, with senior Army officers
and arms industry offieials exereising wide leeway in direct1y market-
ing their produets and concluding exports. This has had mixed results
for Egypt: positively, the export of arms during the Iran-Iraq war led
to restoration of diplomatie ties with Iraq; while negatively, the
discovery of a covert operation to smuggle US military technology
and materials strained relations with the United States in 1988. In any
event, relevant decisions concerning industrial policy and allocation of
funds are taken by a handful of the country's senior leaders, nominally
including the president and the ministers of defence, finance, and
foreign afTairs.
In contrast, it is unclear what degree of autonomy or influence the
armed forces enjoyed in Iraq up to August 1990. Nor is it clear whieh
specific sub-strata within the state and economy have promoted local
arms production and benefited materially or institutionally (politically)
from it. These analytical problems are further apparent in the case of
Saudi Arabia, where the diminutive arms industry - in both its public
and private manifestations - does not appear to be supported by, nor
to have led to the formation of, a distinct military-industrial complex.
Nor has the concentration of massive wealth in the hands of the Saudi
Yezid Sayigh 219
state (thanks to oil revenues) led to a pattern similar to that in Egypt

and Iraq - where the allocative nature of the state eneouraged military
industrialization - possibly due to the different social and historical
eireumstances of the evolution of the modem Saudi state.
Thus, although educated guesses may be made about the internal
polities of military industrialization in the Arab countries, it is evident
that the eomplexities, subtleties and variations cannot be adequately
explained at present. The overwhelming institutional and economie
role of the state suggests that the existence of a military-industrial
eomplex in the c1assie mode is unlikely; but it also points to equally
powerful, yet distinet, sub-elites within the state, ruling party, and
armed forces that have the power to make or influence decision-
making, though this cannot be properly established.
THE PRIMACY OF NATIONAL SECURITY
There is broad agreement among analysts and government or industry

officials that the main aims of acquiring a local arms produetion
eapability in the Third World, in terms of enhaneing national security,
are the following: to aehieve a measure of self-suffieieney, and so
extend war-waging eapabilities; limit dependence on foreign suppliers,
and so reduce vulnerability to embargoes or politieal pressures; obtain
eombat hardware whenever needed and in the quantities required;
strengthen deterrence against regional rivals; reinforce regional stand-
ing and ties to other less-developed eountries. Examination shows that
these aims are broadly applieable to the Arab arms-produeing
eountries, where enhaneing national security was the primary eon-
sideration in every case (despite variations in degree).
Taking Egypt first, its arms industry was established in the wake of
the disastrous Arab-Israeli war of 1948, during whieh the Egyptian
armed forces were seriously under-equipped and under-supplied in
eombat eonsumables.' The Tripartite Declaration of 1950 (USA,
Britain and France) limiting arms supplies to the Middle East, and
Ameriean refusal to supply arms to Egypt in 1955, probably formed
additional incentives to develop an indigenous manufaeturing cap-
ability. This process received additional impetus in the late 1950s and
early 1960s as the eountry's new leadership under Nasser sought to
strengthen its poliey of non-alignment, aehieve greater self-sufficieney,
and present itself as the leading Arab state in inter-Arab polities and
the Arab-Israeli confliet. At all times it would appear. that the eontext
220 A.rab Military Industrialization
of national and regional security formed the foremost consideration

shaping Egyptian policy towards military industrialization; the same
may be said of the motives for initial establishment of the Arab
Organization for Industrlalization (AOI) in 1975 and its later resump-
tion under sole Egyptian control in 1979.
Tbe predominance of national security concerns is most evident in
the case of Iraq. Having set up a handful of minor productive facilities
from the mid-1970s, it only undertook extensive and accelerated
industrialization after the outbreak of the Gulf war in September
1980. Tbe primacy ofthe national security concern is equa11y apparent
in the fact that a11 materiei produced or modified locally was expressly
chosen or designed to serve the immediate combat needs of the Iraqi
armed forces, without regard for export potential. And even following
the August 1988 ceasefire, the peacetime tension prevailing between
Iraq and Iran suggested that supporting the country's war-waging
capabilities and enhancing national security would remain the primary
objective of the local defence industry, reflected in both conventional
and special areas of research and production. Exports might have been
possible, and economics of production gained in importance once
peace had been restored, but the choice of hardware for development
and manufacture was still determined overwhelmingly by the preceding
factors. Tbe continued emphasis on national security was reiterated in
late 1989 by a senior lraqi official who asserted that 'the only solution
to the threat to our very existence is to establish our own military
industry and to provide our armed forces with Iraqi arms,.8 Ofcourse,
as the invasion of Kuwait showed, the prospects for conflict were even
greater than commonly assumed.
Saudi Arabia ofTers reverse proof of the primacy of national security
as an incentive for military industrialization: until recently the only
Arab arms producer not to have engaged in combat during its modem
history, it has also been the slowest to develop its indigenous defence
industry. However, this does not mean that economic calculations
have been the major incentive instead. Tbe fact that most Saudi
defence activity to date has been in the field of small arms and
ammunition production, or in modifying imported equipment, points
to an efTort to ensure supply of basic items of hardware and adapt
weapon systems to local needs. 9 An additional motivation for local
production is the Saudi leadership's perceptions of the kingdoms
regional standing; this consideration influenced Saudi participation
in the AOI in 1975-79. Tbus, to the e"tent that Saudi Arabia is
motivated to develop its indigenous arms industry, its main incentives
Yezid Sayigh 221
have tended to be linked to national security rather than economic

benefits, which tend for their part to be weak and diffuse. In the main,
the economic incentive is a primary one only for the embryonic private
sector; but the relatively casual approach adopted by the government
towards the private defence sector suggests that broad economic (and
even commercial) considerations have not stimulated the state greatly.
THE STATUS OF ECONOMIC ARGUMENTS
Having accepted the pre-eminence of national security as the main

incentive for Arab military industrialization, the impact of the
economic argument still needs to be examined. Standard literature
summarizes these as: employ labour; stimulate associated civilian
industries; feed the civilian sector with the results of military research
and development (R&D); save foreign currency and reduce import
bills; increase exports and improve the trade balance; increase locally-
added value and expand GDP; and acquire technology.
In every case, officials of the Arab countries concerned - and of the
AOI at its establishment, as an agency for inter-Arab cooperation -
have cited economic and financial benefits in support of establishing
indigenous defence industries. In addition to the classic tenets sum-
marized above, these include the importance of local military produc-
tion for import substitution, spurring advanced industrialization and
technical training, improving utilization of national resources (natural
and human), and taking advantage of the high profit margins involved
in the international arms trade. 1O Economic considerations were also
significant in Egypt in the early 1960s, as the development of local
defence production suited the general emphasis on heavy industry,
centrally-planned economy and import substitution. The same applies
to Egypt in the 1980s, which sought to make major profits through
arms exports.
All this seems to imply that economic thinking does underlie Arab
military industrialization. However, closer study reveals the limitations
of the economic argument, and its definite subordination to national
security as an incentive. The example just mentioned, of Egypt in the
1980s, provides an indication. Although its defence industry has
sought to make clear profits and has been run along sound business
lines in the past decade, all its major projects were either approved
before the dramatic increase in military exports to Iraq from 1982
onwards, or implemented without achieving demonstrable economic
rewards. That is, the primary criteria for launching a particular

production programme were armed forces' requirements and the
government's ability to foot the bill, not the assurance of stimulating
civilian industry, spurring R&D spin-offs, or improving the trade
balance. Indeed, the cancellation, postponement or reduction of
several industrial projects in the 1980s due to lack of funds only
underscored the absence of major economic benefits and the reliance
on state funds or foreign loans.
Despite the utilization of some excess capacity at military factories
to produce civilian goods in Egypt, there have been few appreciable
benefits that can be traced specifically to the military sector. This
applied even more strongly to Iraq in the 1980s, where interaction
between the defence industry and the general economy was lowest.
Even Saudi Arabia, which has employed its arms deals to arrange
offsets and so establish local industries, was neither especially energetic
or successful in this endeavour, nor attempted to forge a real link
between civilian and military industrial expansion. This implies the low
priority accorded to the supposed economic incentives for military
industrialization.
None the less, the economic argument is important, if only to the
extent that it constrains military industrialization. Thus the main
economic consideration for decision-makers is not whether local
defence industry really aids development, but if it can attain enough
commercial feasibility to make setting it up supportable. Such
calculations affect Egypt most among the Arab producers, since it is
the poorest; they affect Saudi Arabia least. In stark terms, the issue is
simply one of finances. Thus the core economic issues effectively drop
out of the debate, and the question becomes one of financial ability to
implement programmes determined primarily by perceptions of na-
tional security. Whether funds were then found thanks to the
availability of surplus capital (such as oil wealth in Iraq and Saudi
Arabia) or through commerce (foreign sales by Egypt), makes little
difference at this level.
This overall picture may change in the future, as the economics of
defence production become more important. Even if the urgency of the
national security imperative does not recede, attaining a modicum of
commercial feasibility will become increasingly necessary for the
viability and survival of Arab defence industries. Growing financial
constraints throughout the region make this even more imperative, as
does the rising level of technological sophistication required (for
example, when launching the aerospace industry). Local arms indus-
Yezid Sayigh 223
tries must then improve their competitiveness in regional and world

markets, or incur an ever-growing cost in the effort to keep abreast of
development. Just how successful they will be depends on a number of
factors, such as the qualifications of the local workforce, Arab
investment in R&D, and the role of the private sector.
Tbe implications are most applicable to Egypt with its established
industry, national security policy, and large defence establishment. The
same might have been said of Iraq prior to the second Gulf war. In
contrast, Saudi Arabia may simply continue to postpone large-scale
military industrialization, unless clear commercial advantage is to be
had. A further implication is that, in view of the general under-
development of the Arab scientific and industrial base and structural
imbalances in national eeonomies, the process of enhancing commerci-
ality and so improving the economics of defence production will
eventually mean crossing the dividing line into seeking to implement
the economic arguments fOT defence production. That is, Arab
governments will eventually move under the impetus of improving
the feasibility of the arms industry towards actively linking defence
production with economic development (by expanding civilian feeder
industries or training manpower, for example). Hopes that the shock
of the Gulf crisis will curb the trend of most states in the region to arm
themselves may weil founder in the absence of solutions to the root
causes of conflict, and so continued military expenditure (despite the
economic crisis) is not so far-fetched.
In conclusion, it would appear, judging from present trends, that for
the foreseeable future eeonomic considerations will not be deeisive,
and that military industrialization will not be measured substantially
by its contribution to development in the countries concerned. Indeed,
given the current underdevelopment of their civilian economies
(including overall structure, industry, infrastructure and sciences),
investment in defence production can hardly be predicated on pro-
gress in both the military and civilian sectors. Thus, instead of
justifying military industrialization on the grounds that it can spur
growth in the civilian economy, the real question is how far Arab
defence industries can progress without significant improvement in the
relevant seetors of the civilian economy. But once again, in light of the
high priority given by Arab governments to national security and
defence, this outlook is unlikely to reduce investment in military
industrialization (which is disproportionately high compared to other
sectors) under normal circumstances. In fact, continued concentration
of state resources (financial and human) in the defence industries may
224 Arab Military lndustrialization
allow them to develop at a faster rate than their civilian counterparts,

despite the handicaps, and the two sectors will tend, as at present, to be
largely dissociated in their growth.
SECURITY NEEDS AND THE DEFENCE BURDEN
Having established the primacy of national security as an incentive for

Arab military industrialization, how will the twin issues of security and
defence affect Arab industrial efforts in the foreseeable future?
Despite signing the Camp David peace accords in 1978, Egypt has
since maintained a steady pace ofmilitary development. Only in 1989,
under constant US pressure and strapped for financial resources in the
face of a growing debt burden, did the Egyptian govemment finally
affirm that it would start to reduce defence spending, announcing a
new ceiling on its military spending (excluding US aid) of 10 per cent
of the state budget in FY1990. 11 Yet it is evident that in the absence of
such restrictions the overriding trend of high military expenditure
would continue - as the loophole left open (by both Egypt and the
USA) conceming continued US military assistance showed. Indeed,
the Gulf crisis provided just such an opening, with the cancellation of
US$7 billion of Egyptian military debts to the USA and the new sale of
F-16 aircraft to Egypt. Even before the Gulfcrisis the Egyptian Armed
Forces were undergoing a build-up, despite the formal state of peace
with Egypt's former principal adversary - Israel - because their
leadership had chosen to improve combat quality while reducing
manpower, ostensibly in order to make financial savings. 12 The Gulf
War and the prospective Egyptian role in Gulf security will probably
reinforce this trend.
Stressing quality over quantity means transforming ground forces
into mobile, hard-hitting units with concentrated firepower and full air
cover, a process that signals increased capital investment in hardware.
However, the overall size of the Egyptian Armed Forces will not drop
below a certain minimum for a long time to come, partly because
man power is the country's cheapest and most plentiful asset, and
because qualitative transformation takes a particularly long time in a
country with relatively low levels of literacy and scientific education.
National security thinking, moreover, still accords defence a high
priority, leading to a need for sizeable military forces.
The net result is that Egypt will continue to require a large amount
of low- and medium-technology hardware, much of which it can
Yezid Sayigh 225
(already, or potentially) provide locally. It will also need a higher

proportion of high-tech weapon systems than before, but even then its
defence industry has some relevant production capabilities. Thus the
defence requirement is there, spurring substantial military expenditure
which in turn assures the arms industry of sustained orders. The latter,
moreover, has enough competence and experience to allow a gradual
build-up of capabilities towards eventually providing a more basic
share of the country's high-tech weapon needs, but so far lacks the
funds necessary to embark on the corresponding level of industrializa-
tion and production.
At an immediate level, Iraq appears to be in a very similar situation,
despite the vast vicissitudes it has suffered since August 1990 - war,
destruction, civil war and arms controls. Owing to its eight-year war
with Iran and continuing tension in the region, it cannot afford to
down grade its defence posture below a c.ertain minimum. Iraq must
maintain large standing armed forces weil into the foreseeable future -
at least 25{}-300 000 men, though a long civil war could require 45{}-
500000 - and update its weapons inventory. This fact, combined with
heavy Iraqi reliance on advanced hardware during the conflict with
Iran, current Iranian efforts to rearm and modernize its own forces,
and the lessons of the most recent conflict, points to a need for high-
tech weapons too. However, questions must be raised about Iraqi
ability to do this, given damage, debt, and sanctions - conversely,
unless regional arms controls are attained, outside powers will
eventually not leave Iraq defenceless. The fact that Iran, not Israel,
may yet be Iraq's main adversary (if only because it is the closest)
means that the latter's need for advanced systems is somewhat lower
than Egypt's. Otherwise, the two Arab countries' needs are broadly
comparable: large ground forces represent a major requirement for
low- and medium-technology ordnance. It was this level of need that
both spurred and made feasible the rapid emergence of the Iraqi
defence industry during the second half of the Iran-Iraq war. Thus
present and future trends indicate that the Iraqi armed forces are an
assured client for locally-made defence products, although the ability
to finance military expenditure or investment in local production is
moot indeed.
Until January 1991, Saudi Arabia was the only one ofthe three main
Arab arms producers not to have fought a major war in its recent
history. It is surrounded by water on three sides - with a number of
smaller states along the littoral - while its border runs through open
desert on the fourth. Despite its proximity to both major non-Arab
regional powers - Israel and Iran - it shares a common border with

neither. Thus the kingdom had not previously been motivated by
necessity to expand its armed forces - which are, moreover, con-
strained by the relatively small size of the indigenous Saudi population
- nor did it have to stockpile or expend the vast amounts of ordnance
consumed in modem conflicts such as the 1973 Arab-Israeli or 1980-
88 Gulf wars. Limited requirements enabled the nascent Saudi arms
industry to provide part of the country's ordnance needs, and to
envisage additional forms of activity catering to other areas of
support for the military (maintenance, for example).
The second Gulf war put much into question, though. Until August
1990, Saudi defence depended heavily on advanced major weapons
systems such as aircraft and naval vessels. This was due to the size of
Saudi territory, small population base, and even smaller armed forces.
(An added factor was the desire to avoid internal threats from the
army itself or from certain sectors of the population.)13 So high-tech
systems rather than low-to medium-technology hardware provided the
mainstay of Saudi defence. Yet it is these weapons categories that are
most difficult for non-industrialized countries to produce, and they are
definitely beyond the foreseeable capabilities of the Saudi defence
industry. Conversely, such combat consumables as could already (or
potentially) be produced locally did not form a principal component of
defence needs.
Thus, unlike the situation in Egypt and Iraq (until 1990-91), the
structure of Saudi defence and the composition of its hardware
procurements pointed to a continued emphasis on major, advanced
weapon systems that were unlikely to be produced locally. Saudi policy
was therefore not geared to self-sufficiency in virtually any area of
arms production. However, the Gulf War has thrown up new
challenges. The Saudi need for greater self-reliance in providing for
its own defence may lead to a larger standing army with larger land
and combat components (and increased support services), generating
demand for the type of military equipment that can be produced
indigenously. Promoting the GCC framework or security cooperation
with Egypt and other Arab countries could also increase demand for
'consumables' and low- and medium-technology products, and im-
prove the feasibility of greater self-reliance in support (maintenance,
training, logistics and construction).
None the less, with such heavy capital investment there is wide scope
for a local arms industry that concentrates on areas of technical and
equipment support. This is emphasized by the fact that the proportion
Yezid Sayigh 227
of arms imports to overall military expenditure in Saudi Arabia is

apparently only 8.2 per cent - far lower than in Egypt (48 per cent, of
which weil over half is covered by US grants) and Iraq (25.2 per cent
during the Oulf War). Tbe kingdom may therefore stand to attain
proportionately greater savings and effectiveness through a focus on
the supporting aspects of indigenous military industrialization - spare
parts, repairs, maintenance and overhaul; engineering design and
construction; training and other follow-on services ~ rather than on
actual weapons production. It has indeed taken several steps in this
direction, though the weakness of its local industrial, scientific/
educational and demographic base forms a major limiting factor.
Economic dimensions and impact
Accepting that considerations of security rather than economic

benefits are the primary motive force in Arab arms production, what
none the less are its economic dimensions and its impact on develop-
ment?
In order to answer this question, the ability of Arab countries to
produce arms indigenously needs to be assessed in terms of four main
determinants: national debt; foreign exchange holdings; state revenues;
and overall military expenditure. ODP/ONP is not mentioned expli-
citly since unless it is completely inadequate, its ability to support
defence spending is dependent on the previous indicators. Its main
significance for this discussion is that, under the pressure of debt and
foreign exchange holdings, concemed countries can be expected to
push for national savings by increasing locally-added value. Tbus
ODP/ONP levels are assumed to be a constant factor, until they can
no longer bear the national debt burden and so impinge on defence
spending.
Since most initial investment in arms industries comes from the
public sector - partly because such massive sums are involved, and
partly because it is a security-related sector - the ability or need of the
govemment to borrow often becomes a central determinant. Foreign
exchange is necessary to purchase machinery and design technology,
and to acquire manufacturing know-how for the local arms industry
from abroad (and can therefore be a major constraint on development,
as weil as a factor in shaping industrial strategy). Lack of hard
currency can also contribute to extemal borrowing. Tbirdly, assuming
that ODP/ONP can broadly sustain a certain level of defence
expenditure in a given country, then its ability to invest in a local
arms industry specifically is a function of state revenues. The latter in

turn afTect debt levels by raising or lowering the need for public
borrowing. The link between state revenues and military industrializa-
tion is, moreover, afTected by the impact of defence budgets on other
items of govemment spending. Finally, the negative impact of large
military expenditure on the economy and stage budgets can be
reduced, releasing more funds for defence production, by directing it
in ways that benefit certain sectors more than others.
Taking the issue of debt first, this used to be less of a problem in
countries with surplus funds, such a3 oil-rich Iraq and Saudi Arabia
(up to 1990-91), and more so in a debt-ridden economy such as
Egypt's. Ironically, the Gulf crisis has reversed positions somewhat
between Iraq and Egypt, though both suffer severe problems of
financial solvency and credit availability. After the war with Iran,
Iraq already had a post-war debt of US$80bn and an additional bill
for reconstruction and restoration of opportunity. Even before the
second Gulfwar, Iraq had to weigh its ability to invest massively in the
defence industry very carefully. Indeed, its. per capita debt was nearly
five times that ofEgypt in 1988 (see Appendix, Tables A.l-A.2). Now
the need to service debts, pay war reparations, repair damage and
rebuild the economy will have immense long-term efTects on its ability
to invest in any sector, particularly one with such high initial and
running costs and relatively low returns as the arms industry.
For its part, Egypt was estimated in 1987 to need US$4-5 billion for
the development of its defence industry; six months later a subsequent
estimate went as high as US$4-6 billion. 14 However, the current level
of state revenues and the existing burden of military spending do not
provide any surplus, and, with a large debt on which service and
capital repayments are becoming increasingly due, Egypt's credit
rating has not been good enough to obtain further loans for the arms
industry.lS Here the financial constraints of the state budget have
played a big part, whether by showing inability to repay loans or by
causing the government to decline lines of credit even when they have
been available. The net result has been to postpone, cancel or
downgrade several aircraft and guided-missile projects that would
have led to acquisition of advanced technology. In this respect, Iraq
had the advantage (until 1990), by being able both to obtain credit
(despite its massive debt), and to balance further indebtedness with
increased output and GDP growth. 16 It is worth noting that several
newly-industrializing countries (NIes) have also used borrowing to
spur growth - South Korea with great sucCess, but Brazil and Mexico
Yezid Sayigh 229
with potentially disastrous results - though it must also be noted that

they generally already had an appreciable level of industrial develop-
ment and that they protected themselves from the open competition of
the world market. 17
Iraq's main advantage was obviously its oil wealth, which provided
the state with substantial revenues and hard currency earnings. The
latter is a particular weakness in Egypt, especially as government
policy was directed to import-substitution for so long, thereby
reducing exports and limiting the ability to acquire foreign exchange
except by borrowing. Egypt could, moreover, rely. on barter with
politically sympathetic trading partners to export its primary products
(such as cotton), but even before the sweeping changes of 1989-90 East
European/Soviet bloc countries were demanding hard currency in
return for their exports of machinery and finished products. 18 Tbus
even when GDP levels might allow a higher level of military spending
or local defence production (and by implication, further borrowing),
shortage of hard currency can still present a significant obstacle. On
the other hand, the previous Iraqi advantage in this context (hard
currency, surplus funds) proved misleading. Iraq is heavily dependent
on oil exports for its foreign exchange eamings, which makes its
income vulnerable to world price fluctuations and undermines the
role of other local products. Tbe easy availability of surplus capital
(and hard currency) encouraged a false sense of security and distorted
development perceptions (up to 1990) by facilitating tumkey solutions
at the expense of 'grassroots industrialization (from the bottom up) on
the one hand; on the other, it also obscured the fact that most earnings
would be needed for debt repayment and economic reconstruction.
Saudi Arabia would appear not to face the same problems. It enjoys
massive, albeit possibly dwindling GDP, state revenues, and foreign
exchange holdings. And despite, or rather because of, its dependency
on oil exports, the kingdom is diversifying its productive activities in
order to increase the share of non-oil sectors in GDP and foreign
trade. It thus possesses the economic requirements to embark on
ambitious military industrialization. By the same token, however, it
has little financial incentive to do so, as its economy does not suffer
overly from its staggering military expenditure.
Events since August 1990 have affected this picture, though. Saudi
Arabia now has compelling national security imperatives, which may
encourage continued major defence spending for the foreseeable
future. Yet the cost of military development, coupled with the fact
that the kingdom had to resort to borrowing to cover its commitment
to allied eosts in the Gulf erisis/war, reveal severe constraints. On the

one hand tbis might suggest savings through greater self-reliance in
hardware and especially support services (from training and main-
tenance to construction and engineering design). On the other, the
concretization of the U8-Saudi strategie relationship may pre-empt
moves towards local arms production, especially if it is state-funded.
Paradoxically, the case of Saudi Arabia is especially useful to
demonstrate the issues and calculations involved in Arab defence
production, for the precise reason that it is under less pressure, for
security and economic reasons, to set up a large-scale military industry
at all, and so occupies an intermediate position between Arab
producers and non-producers of arms. Thanks to its material cireum-
stances - in terms of both security and finances, yet conscious of its
limitations - in terms of population and military manpower size,
industrial base, and technical/scientific base, the kingdom can, more-
over, choose between inward-Iooking and export-oriented military
industria1ization strategies.
This is brought out by contrasting Saudi Arabia, which can
effectively buy its hardware needs at will from external sources
(constrained only by the ability of its armed forces to absorb new
equipment), with Egypt, which is pushed into local production as an
alternative because it often cannot pay thc full cost of arms imports.
The irony is, of course, that the same shortage of funds then
undermines Egyptian defence industry programmes, which are none
the less still pursued whenever possible, at the cost of increased
borrowing and retarded development, due to the primacy of its
security concerns. Thus Saudi participation in setting up the AOI in
1975 can be seen primarily as a political act, while for Egypt the
organization represented areal opportunity to meet pressing defence
needs in an economical fashion (that would also produce spin-offs for
the local economy, since the AOI's production facilities were to be
based there).
Given this distinction, the option of local defence production is still
more likely to be measured in commercial terms than economic ones
by Saudi Arabia: the debate would be about production and industrial
economics (that is, profitability) rather than its impact on the economy
and state finances as a whole. Yet the commercial returns may equally
be seen in the kingdom as dispensable, especially if other activities
(such as ordinary commerce) are demonstrably more profitable in the
short term. Thus the incentives are weak under current Saudi industrial
and economic policy. For Egypt, conversely, the core issue has been
Yezid Sayigh 231
financial rather than commercial - how to obtain loans and ensure

production even if sales are not guaranteed, or alternatively how to
ensure sales in order to plough the returns back into the industry. (The
fact that lack of funds shortens production runs, thus reducing
technology transfer and raising costs, is an added hindrance to the
commercial success of Egyptian defence products.)
This efTectively implies that Saudi Arabia has more reasons to opt
for an export-oriented (or at least sales- and profit-oriented) military
industrialization strategy. Certainly, state encouragement of private-
sector participation (hoth financial and industrial) in defence produc-
tion is a clear step along that path. Yet unlike Brazil or South Korea,
the kingdom has not started with a significant (state-owned) arms
industry already in place. Neither does it have an experienced civilian
industry; indeed, the predominant economic ethos is commercial, that
of the rentier state. Thus the absence of a stronger state role in the
initial phase (in which Saudi Arabia indisputably remains), as embo-
died in the formulation of a cohesive national industrial plan with
specific targets and fund allocations, has deprived the private sector of
both guidance and incentive. This has led, in turn, to the loose ofTset
arrangements with the US and UK that encourage investment in
commerce and services as much as industry and that cannot be
exploited by local industry in any case. At least in terms of providing
private investors and industrialists with definite needs and relatively
clear central guidance and overall management, Egypt for once has the
advantage over its Saudi counterpart.
The consequences of this undirected linkage in the Saudi case are
also evident in the impact of general military expenditure on the
economy and government spending. In general, one analyst notes,
high defence spending should have a positive efTect on demand from
the civilian (and military) industry, due to its large capital expenditure
component. 19 This is generally true for Saudi Arabia (applied to the
economy as a whole), though he also suggests that other areas of
public spending may be more beneficial. 20 However, the size of state
revenues at least means that the latter do not sufTer budgetary cuts due
to defence (though this too may change in the 1990s).
Accepting that the importance of national security considerations
should finally tilt the balance in favour of defence spending, the
question is, what impact does it have within the economy? In Saudi
Arabia, construction has benefited but manufacturing has sufTered
(though it might be added that even the construction boom tied to
building facilities will decline considerably once the essential infra-
232 Arab Military lndustrialization
structure is in place).21 Military expenditure has also stimulated more

private-sector investment and contributed more to overall demand
than government (civilian) investment and consumption. In other
areas of activity, though, govemment (civilian) investment has tended
to pre-empt private investment or deprive it of state resources. 22 Tbat
is, while defence spending has brought considerable financial resources
to the private sector - through salaries and acquisition of supplies,
then to be invested or spent by citizens and employees as individuals
but not as an economic sec tor - it has not encouraged private
investment in activities undertaken by the public sector such as
military industry (or housing and so on). Although such participation
is precisely what the government wants, the lack of clear guidance and
incentives discourages investors.
Tbe situation is evidently very different in Iraq, where the private
sector remained severely restricted in many areas of economic activity
at the end of the 1980s, despite limited moves towards liberalization.
Here, too, the oil economy significantly altered the economics of
defence production and softened the impact of military spending
generally on the national economy. Equally, though, the abnormally
high level of military expenditure during the Iraq-Iran war, combined
with direct physical damage and opportunity loss, had an undeniably
negative effect on the country's income and resources. Moreover, with
a massive post-war debt, reparations, and the daunting task of
reconstruction to face in the 1990s, Iraq cannot simply restore the
previous balance between GDP, state revenues and foreign exchange
holdings on the one hand and defence spending on the other, even if
the latter is sharply cut back.
Thus the post-war impact of military development on Iraq will be
greater, and more problematic, than before. Official economic statis-
ties have long been guarded secrets in Iraq, making an assessment
difficult, but it is reasonable to assume that while arms imports (and
procurement generally) formed a substantial part of overall military
expenditure (25 per cent in 198H7) the latter had adetrimental effect
on the economy even before 1990-91, given the relative decline in GDP
and state revenues, and the linkage of foreign exchange earnings with
oil exports and servicing external debts. Previously, despite the damage
and debts left by the Iraq-Iran war, a balanced economic (and
industrial) strategy might have succeeded in using high military
expenditure to maintain growth. But if indigenous defence production
can make better use of financial resources by utilizing part of the
previous expenditure on arms imports for the purchase of materials
Yezid Sayigh 233
and components for local manufacture, the internal composition of

defence expenditure could change in a way that encourages Iraqi
military industry.
The argument that defence spending has a negative impact on
development is most easily made in Egypt, which lacks the funds
either to spur growth through borrowing or to maintain a healthy
minimum of public expenditure on non-military sectors. Here the
effect has been to deprive the economy: infrastructure, health,
education, housing and other categories, of needed resources. In
particular, military expenditure has drained state revenues and foreign
exchange earnings. It has also driven up Egypt's debt - an estimated
23-25 per cent of the US$40-44 billion national debt was military in
198823 - and so set in motion an in-buHt and self-perpetuating
additional cost. However, local defence production has tended to
work in the opposite direction to this pattern. It has gene rally
moderated the adverse consequences of defence spending, if only by
reducing the overall military bill (especially for imports). It has also
provided employment and additional income through civilian produc-
tion, and financed itself with exports to a certain extent.
For Egypt, the issue therefore becomes one of striking the correct
balance between defence and development, with the local military
industry entering the equation as an additional factor. In broad terms,
reducing military expenditure to a tolerable level (in t~rms of its share
in GDP, state revenues and indebtedness) is necessary to help slow
down the debt spiral and promote development, but the country may
equally prove able to bear a considerable defence burden. (The
assumption here is that Egypt will not receive major extern al funds
commensurate with the Arab grants of the 1960s and 1970s, and that
US aid from 1992 onwards will suffice only to maintain a minimum
level of imports and spending as the debt burden builds up. Indeed,
Egyptian arms imports had already dropped from US$2.3 billion to
only US$300 million in 1987-88.) This could be done partly by using
expenditure to expand its industrial base (civilian and military) and so
improve the military-civilian dynamic, and partly by restructuring its
arms imports and military development policy in order to introduce
longer time leads and focus on more cost-effective weapons technol-
ogies and combat doctrines. The latter areas of reform can have as
important, or even greater, an impact on force structure as an increase
in defence spending. 24 The alternative is to face an increasing inability
either to maintain defence spending, pursue industrialization, or meet
the debt burden - all of which were actually being borne out by the
end of the 1980s. Tbe eaneellation of USS7 billion of Egyptian

military debts to the USA may further eneourage complaceney about
this issue.
CONCLUSION
Given the expeetation that Arab defence expenditure will eontinue at a

high level and that indigenous arms produetion will eontinue to attraet
investment, the question facing those eountries engaged in military
industrialization is whether they ean turn it to the advantage of
economie development, or at least reduce its adverse effeets.
There are a numher of reasons why local arms produetion has led to
limited economie benefits for the Arab eountries. Among them are the
weakness of loeal R&O, whieh reduees teehnology transfer and
impedes the accumulation of scientifie and teehnieal skills. Another
is reliance on imports for many of the raw materials and eomponents
used in defence produets. A third is the shortage of appropriate
human skills, especially administrators and teehnicians, but also of
production engineers, resulting in low productivity and marketing,
among other things. Possibly most important, though, is that such
limitations severely undermine the ability of the eivilian feeder
industries either to supply the arms industry effectively and efficiently
or to henefit from the inereased demand and special requirements of
the latter. Tbis problem is a funetion of several faetors, sueh as long-
term state industrial poliey and discouragement of private-sector
investment, and reflects the generallaek of a 'scientifie and industrial
eulture'.
Two issues are at stake in this eontext. Tbe first is how the loeal
arms industry can reduce the overall level of defence spending, or at
least reduce its import eomponent and so divert more expenditure into
inereasing local GOP. Tbe second is how to expand that industry in a
way that aetively assists development.
The first ease assumes eontinued heavy defence spending - an
assumption not seriously ehallenged by pious references to arms
control and disarmament - but seeks to make broad financial (and
hard eurreney) savings through a massive inerease in the share of
military services and follow-on support provided locally. At present, a
signifieant part of defence-related imports - up to 75 per cent in the
Saudi-US case - consists of foreign services for maintenance, repair,
overhaul, spare parts, training, advisory services, engineering design,
Yezid Sayigh 235
and construction. Tbis applies broadly to Soviet-supplied countries

too, though probably at a lower ratio. By providing support locally,
the national armed forces or defence industry (and associated civilian
enterprises such as construction companies) would contribute substan-
tially to GDP. (Of course, additional savings could be made by cutting
out the system of middlemen and commissions, which drains up to a
fifth of contract funds.) As importantly, the focus of such an effort
would be to train the large numbers of personnel needed for servicing,
with obvious spin-offs for the civilian sector in terms of providing
surplus trained manpower or sharing technical services. More specifi-
cally, this approach would directly benefit development, since humans
are the key element in the latter process.
Tbe response to the second issue - using defence production in a
way that actively assists development - is an extension of the preceding
approach, which suggested a deliberate focus on activities that are the
most rewarding financially (though not necessarily commercially) and
the most conducive to GDP growth and long-term development. As
mentioned above, the principal constraint to expanding Arab arms
industries and to reaping greater economic benefits from them has
been the weakness of the local civilian industrial base (with its
attendant consequences of lacking R&D, manpower qualifications
and private-sector involvement). Naturally, the task of improving
Arab industrial performance is immense, one that is beyond the
capacity of defence-sector planners. But greater emphasis could weil
be placed on those branches of the civilian sector that act as 'feeders
for the defence sector, such as steel and iron, other metals, chemicals
and other primaries, electrical and non-electrical machinery, automo-
tive and transport, metal products, and advanced products such as
electronics. Given the high level of military requirements of all types,
the volume of consumption could help make investment in these feeder
industries cost-effective, especially as they can also cater for civilian
markets.
Put differently, although Arab arms industries should invest heavily
in R&D and high-tech branches in order to keep pace with trends in
military technology and in world economyjtrade (such as the informa-
tion revolution), their main industrial focus should be on those
activities and products that require the largest local contribution,
whether through manpower or feeder products, in order to make
investment in economic development more effective and far-reaching.
Tbe second Gulfwar could yet have major consequences for the sector,
whether as a result of arms control regimes and embargoes or of
declining need for defence spending, spurred by greater awareness of

risks and costs and by resolution of political causes of conflict. But the
nature of the various parties involved in the region and the scale of
profits to be made suggest a more cynical attitude to the development
needs of local populations. Naturally, the thrust of the concluding
proposals made here may run counter to the interests and preferences
of those institutional actors within each Arab state that promote
defence spending and military industrialization in the first place.
Their resistance is likely to be particularly strong to any redirecting
of needed human and financial resources (for the import of inter-
mediate capital goods, for example) back into the civilian economy.
None the less, the concluding argument of this chapter is that the focus
of the Arab states should not be so much on defence in order to
achieve development, as on assisting defence through development by
consciously seeking ways that make better use of defence expenditure.
Notes
This chapter is based on the author's book, Arab Military Industry:

Capabi/ities, Performance anti Impact (London and Beirut: Brassey's and
Centre for Arab Unity Studies, 1991).
1. The UN resolution passed in April 1991 banned the supply of anything

relating to the design, development, manufacture and use of weapons,
among other restrictions, on NBC and balIistic missile programmes,
Jane's Defence Weekly (London) 13 April 1991. The US Treasury
meanwhile compiled its own blacklist of companies and persons said to
be assisting 'Iraq's subterranean network in the world of arms, trading
and clandestine financial operations'.
2. Exhaustively described in Anthony Cordesman, The Gu/f and the Seareh
for Strategie Stability (Boulder, Col. and London: Westview Press and
ManseH, 1984).
3. Internatio1lll1 Herald Tribune, 13 February 1991.
4. Output according to Minister of State for Defence Production Gen.
Jamal al-Sayyed, Al-Ahram (Cairo) 3 April 1988.
5. According to the head of the Egyptian Armaments Authority, Major
General Muhammad Mustafa, al-Ahram (Cairo) 20 August 1988.
6. According to Gulf sources cited in Janes Defenee Weekly, 22 April 1989.
7. For fuller discussions of the Egyptian arms industry, see Mohammad
Selim, 'Egypt', in James Katz (ed.), Arms Production in Deyeloping
Countries (Lexington, Mass.: Lexington Books, 1984); R. Vayrynen and
T. Ohlson, 'Egypt: arms production in the transnational context,' in
Michael Brzoska and Thomas Ohlson (eds), Arms Produetion in the Third
World (London: Taylor and Francis, 1986); and Michael Dunn, 'Egypt:
From Domestic Needs to Export Market,' in James Katz ed., The
Yezid Sayigh 237
Implications of Third World Military Industrialization: Sowing the

Serpents' Teeth (Lexington, Mass.: Lexington Books, 1986).
8. Financial Times (London) 11 September 1989.
9. Relatively little is known about the Saudi defence industry, but some
reports are: Gulf Centre for Strategie Studies (London), Defence Indus-
tries of the Middle East, I, 1 (Summer 1988); Nabeel Ibrahim, 'al-Sina'a
al-harbiyya al-arabiyya: nadhra mustaqbaliyya' [Arab Defence Industry:
A Look to the Future], part 3, The Arab Researcher, 14 (January-Mareh
1988); and artieles in aI-Sharq al-awsat (London), 30 January 1986, and
AI-Hawadeth (London) 11 February 1986.
10. For example, see Qasim al-Oaqbi, al-Thawra (Baghdad) 11 October 1987.
Import substitution is referred to speeifieally by Nabeel Ibrahim,
'Muqawwimat al-sina'a al-harbiyyah' [Basis of Military Industry], part
2, The Arab Researcher, 13 (October-December 1987) p. 78.
11. Statement by Planning Minister Kamal Ganzouri, Reuters, 28 June 1989.
12. According to then Defence Minister Abu Ghazalah, lane's Defence
Weekly, 17 October 1987.
13. Abdul Aziz Fahad, 'Why Saudis Feared Defence and Are Reconsidering',
International Herald Tribune, 13 February 1991.
14. lane's Defence Weekly, 17 October 1987 and 9 April 1988.
15. In contrast to the USS850 million in economie aid that Egypt received
from the USA, it paid interest of over USS550 million annually, lane's
Defence Weekly, 17 October 1987. During the GulfWar, however, most
of Egypt's military debts with the US were forgiven. Between 1979 and
1987 Egypt received USS8 billion in US eredit, mainly for arms, of whieh
USS3.5 billion was in grants. Aetual US military aid disbursed to Egypt
since 1984 is as follows (USS million): financial year (FY) 1984-
USSI366.7; FY 1985-USS 11 76.4; FY 1986-USSI245.8; FY 1987-
USS 130 1.8; FY 1988-USS1300. Another USS1.3 billion has been allo-
eated for eaeh of FY 1989 and FY 1990, Middle East Report, 160
(September-October 1989) p. 24.
16. In September 1989 some of the ways employed by Iraq to maintain its
foreign lines of eredit were revealed in the ltalian BNL bank scandal. Yet
the Iraqi government was able, simultaneously, both to reschedule its
debts to France and arrange new loans. Articles in Financial Times,
21 September 1989 and lane's Defence Weekly, 30 September 1989.
17. David Mares, 'Mexieo's Challenges: Sovereignty and National Autonomy
under Inter-dependence,' Third World Quarterly, 9, 3 (July 1987) p. 791.
18. For example, Poland refused to accept an offset arrangement when
negotiating an extension of the contraet held by Egyptian Nasr ear
eompany for local assembly of the Polish 'Poionese', al-Hayat (Lon-
don) 3 October 1989.
19. As Saadet Deger argues in Military Expenditure in Third World Coun-
tries: The Economic Effects (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986)
p.I72.
20. Robert Looney, Third World Military Expenditures and Arms Produclion
(London: Macmillan, 1988) p. 154.
21. Looney, Third World Military Expenditures and Arms Production, p. ISS.
22. Looney, Third World Military Expenditures and Arms Production, p. 162.
23. Jane's Defence Weekly, 17 October 1987; and Finaneial Times, 25 March
1988. This assumes a military debt of USSI0 billion. World Bank and
IMF estimates, which are probablyon the low side, are of USS6-7
billion, or 15 per cent of total debt, still a substantial slice, aI-Hayat, 26
September 1989.
24. This is a point made in Subhi Qasim (ed.), AI-Waqi' al-'arabi al-ilmi wa
al-taqana wa bi'atih [Arab Science and Technology and their Environ-
ment] (Beirut: Centre for Arab Unity Studies, 1989) p. 185 (of the draft
copy); and Mary Kaldor, The Baroque Arsenal (London: Andre Deutsch,
1982) pp. 226-30.
11 State-Building and the
Military in Arab Africa
I. William Zartman
'There cannot be good laws where there are not good arms, and where
there are good arms there must be good laws', as Machiavelli wrote. 1
In the circular explanations that reality sometimes requires, security,
political development and the strength of the state are co-determined.
Strong states both henefit from and assure their own security and that
of their societies; political development is both enhanced by and results
in a strong state. Furthermore, it is hard to conceive of 'security' and
'political development' as concepts independent of the related concept
of 'state'. Yet these concepts are not fully synonymous.
This chapter will evaluate the strength of the state in Arab Africa in
its third decade of independence and will then analyse the role of the
military in contributing to state-building as an aspect ofNorth African
political development. The four Mediterranean countries of the
Maghreb (Morocco, Aigeria, Tunisia and Libya) will be discussed,
with the Sudan, since they have comparable dates of independence in
the 1950s and early 1960s and yet their various political histories
permit instructive contrasts. Egypt is omitted because both its society
and its political history are so different that the contrasts drown the
comparisons.
The first part of the discussion, concerning state-building, develop-
ment and security, will permit a hetter appreciation of the overlapping
concepts and will allow a clearer appreciation of the five North
African states in terms of these parameters. Unfortunately, to he able
to discuss the topic, it will be necessary to spend some time in
clarifying the concepts to be used. The second part of the chapter
contains a hypothesized contradiction: presumably, the greater the role
of the military, however measured, the less the political deve10pment of
the state but possibly the more secure the state. Apriori, the
hypothesized relation hetween a military role and state-building is
ambiguous. These terms too will need to he defined. Thus, the best the
military could do for some aspects of the interrelated topic would he to
stay out, whereas the best it could do for other aspects would be to
239
240 State-Bui/ding and the Military in Arab Africa
stay in. North African states will be seen to bridge this dilemma
differently, but it remains a fundamental and dynamic contradiction
for their militaries.
STATE-BUILDING IN NORTH AFRICA
Although the plea has been made to 'bring the state back in',2 there is
still no clear notion ofwhat the state is, ofwhat it is when it is 'in', and
of what the appropriate relationship is between state and society. Yet
all these aspects of the topic are voluminously discussed since the state
has re-entered political analysis after a long absence.
'State' here will be defined, as it has been elsewhere, 3 as 'the
authoritative political institution that is sovereign over a recognized
territory'. This definition implies a dual nature to the state that is both
the source of its conceptual problems and the inescapable essence of its
reality. Tbe state is both a sovereign authority and hence an accepted
focus of identity and arena of politics, and an institution within a
territory and hence a formal organization and a guardian of security.
When termed 'symbolic' and 'bureaucratic' these two natures can be
separated neatly, but that separation is unreal and the dual natures
overlap.
State-building then implies the construction of an institutional and
symbolic order that is strong enough to maintain and preserve itself:
that is, to perform its functions and to defend itself against challenges.
Again, there is much discussion and ambiguity about these basic ideas.
Tbere is no consensus as to what the appropriate functions of the state
are, and no conceptual consensus on what the challenges may be. 4
Functions may be highly relative, referring to what is assigned to a
given state by its society or by its leaders, or absolute, according to a
conceptually established list; the latter is analytically preferable but not
universally accepted. Tbere is also a highly misleading implication that
if strong is 'good' in terms of self maintenance and preservation, then
stronger must be better. Yet clearly astate can be too strong, even if
the conceptual implications of that idea are not clear either. 'State
strength', then, is probably a 'bell-shaped' concept, in which moderate
strength is appropriate but too strong is as dysfunctional as too weak. S
Tbe relationship between state and society is yet another ambiguous
concept. While much of the discussion implies that a strong state is a
state that has active, 'healthy' ties with its society, there is again no
consensus on what those ties comprise. Nor, equally importantly, is
l. William Zartman 241
there c1arity as to whether strong states might not exist in their own
right, independent of ties with their society. What would one call states
who can preserve themselves against challenges and perform functions
but which have Httle afTective or organizational interaction with
society, like medieval castles whose owners collect taxes and with-
stand siege but have Httle else to do with the surrounding peasantry?
The term 'hard state' has sometimes been suggested.
Despite these conceptual problems, an attempt will be made to
identify the components of state strength so as to be able to evaluate
state-building in North Africa. Six elements appear to comprise the
irreducible components of the idea of state strength as an outcome of
the state-building process. They are stability, capacity, security,
autonomy, accountability and legitimacy. By providing a multi-
component concept, state strength can be seen as a compound
variable with many degrees of existence. The middle pair, security
and autonomy, are used here to refer to external relations, whereas the
other four cover state-society relations.
Stability. Another muddy concept, stability can be taken to refer to

the maintenance of orderly institutional functioning and government
continuity, inc1uding the preservation of the state monopoly over the
means of violence. Govemment changes would take place according
to established rules, not by extra-legal means, and would not occur so
often as to jeopardize the smooth functioning of government
programmes. Citizens would be able to hold long-term expectations
of government rules and performance. Law and order would be
preserved, both through the general absence of challenges and
through the effective overcoming of any challenges that might
occasionally arise.
Capacity. Capacity is used here specifically in regard to the input,

conversion and output functions of the state, referrlng to its ability to
extract goods and services from society and to distribute them again
according to a coherent programme. It is of particular relevance to
North Africa to note that systemic functions can also be performed
on the basis of resources extracted from non-societal sources (for
example, natural resources, foreign aid), giving rise to arentier state
with specific consequences for other aspects of state strength.
Security. The concept refers here to the defensive aspect of the state
in preserving its existence against direct attack. It is related to the
242 State-Building and the Military in Arab Africa
territorial notion of the state, but also to its preservation as a

sovereign, authoritative political institution from overthrow, even
with its boundaries unchanged. Tbe internal dimension of security is
covered under capacity and legitimacy.
Autonomy. In performing these functions, the state must be
operating under its own control, rather than as a foreign agent.
Autonomy should not be confused with isolation or autarky; astate
cannot be expected to be exempt from foreign pressures and
influences, nor can it be fully self-sufficient in its control of its
resources. On the other hand, astate may be strong (repressive) in
relation to its society while functioning as a surrogate for foreign
control. In the North African region, autonomy is not in question for
any state. Relative state autonomy, as sometimes used to refer to
state-society relations, is not included in this concept but is
distributed among the first and last two.
Accountability. It is a modem notion that astate is responsible to
someone other than itself in the performance of its activities.
Accountability is the corollary of autonomy, and it makes the
strongest statement about state-society ties of all the component
variables. It does not mean that the state should be merely the
subservient handmaiden of society but that, on the contrary, the state
is strengthened by a close symbiosis, and by occasion for both societal
approval and periodic renewal.
Legitimacy. Most elusive as a concept, the right to rule is conferred
by society as an ongoing exercise related to, but distinct from,
accountability. Tbe notion of legitimacy is inherent in the definition
of the state, since authority is generally taken to mean 'legitimate or
rightful power'.
On the basis of these component concepts, it is possible to make some
summary judgements about the strength of the state in Arab North
Africa - with one final caveat. Despite an attempt to specify the
concepts and make them as measurable as possible, evaluation is
highly time-dependent. Judgements change rapidly, and sudden
events, even with discernible antecedents, can have major effects on
state strength when the reverse would have been expected. In a world
of whims and weather, that should not be surprising, but it is
troubling. Perhaps it should not be. People and planks crack
suddenly, storms blow up and buildings blow down, earthquakes
I. William Zartman 243
and military coups occur, all without waming on some occasions,

generally expected but not specifically foreseeable on others. Concepts
used carefully can provide wamings and expectations as they move
through time. They cannot prevent sudden changes and surprises.
Tunisia and Morocco are the cases that ranked highest at the end of
the 1980s as strong states with advanced state-building processes. 6
Both exhibited a high degree of stability through their institutional
development and their ability to undergo orderly and legal regime
succession. Both underwent times of trouble: in Tunisia around 1986-
87; in Morocco at the beginning of the 1970s, when challenges to the
regime appeared to threaten the stability of the state itself. Both
overcame the challenges by adroit politics, in Tunisia by a 'constitu-
tional coup' on 7 November 1987 and reforms thereafter, and in
Morocco by the establishment of a new regime around 1974-76.
Moroccan stability is obviously grounded in the long, hereditary and
religiously-sanctioned monarchy, an advantage enjoyed by no other
state in the region. The monarchy provides both institutional stability
and legitimacy, whereas in Tunisia legitimacy came from a mixture of
charismatic, revolutionary and rational-legal or performance-based
sources under Habib Bourguiba (1956-87) and the same combination
minus the revolution under Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali (1987- ).
It would take a more complicated study to evaluate capacity,
although a number of quantitative indicators are eonceivable. Total
government revenue for Tunisia over the 1980s averaged about 32 per
cent of GDP, and for Morocco about 25 per cent, high figures for
Africa based on a middle-income domestic product.' About 14 per
cent of total eurrent govemment revenue came to Tunisia from ineome
taxes over the 1980s, and 18 per cent to Morocco - both low figures for
Afriea; and about 22 per cent came from taxes on goods and services in
Tunisia and 34 per cent in Morocco - both high figures for Africa.
An evaluation of conversion and distribution capabilities would
have to use key sectors and programmes as indicators. A crude stab
at such indicators would be figures for social services (education +
health) and economie programmes (business + agrieulture), compared
with govemment operating eosts. In Tunisia for the same decade these
figures averaged about 16 per cent + 7 per cent and 30 + 12- per cent
(indieates wide annual fluctuations from the decennial average),
compared with 8- per cent; in Morocco, they averaged 17 per cent
+ 3 per cent and 27 + 6 per cent, eompared with 16 per cent. If these
erude figures can be used as any indicator, they show that in both
countries there were substantial returns from the state to society at 65
per cent and 53 per cent of the state revenues; however, this does not
indicate who in society benefited from the programmes, nor does it
address the coherence of the programmes or their efficiency (Tunisia
was much more efficient at an 8: 1 ratio of programmes to cost than
Morocco at 3.5:1).
Tunisian security was assured by both diplomatie and military
means against perceived threats from neighbours, the most notable
danger coming from Libyan-based subversion in the early 1980s.
Moroccan security was more complex but more impressive, as
Morocco consolidated its hold over the Western Sahara over the
decade. 8 Military (not including internal security) expenses averaged
10 per cent and 16 per cent of the state budget respectively.
Responsibility of the state toward external sources draws a clear
negative in both Morocco and Tunisia, although it is hard to provide
sharp measures. Responsibility towards internat sources requires
different evaluations. Both states have been called to order on two
occasions in the 1980s by demonstrations of dissatisfaction from
segments of society, and both hold regular elections for parliament
with high participation rates. Neither head of state is elected in a
competitive contest, although obviously there is even less account-
ability in the selection of the king of Morocco than of the president of
Tunisia. Legislative elections in Morocco pick representatives in court,
not political leaders, but they do provide a partial link between state
and society,9 and Tunisian elections have some chance of attaining a
similar function under the Ben Ali regime. Accountability of the state
to its society still remains as informal as the means to analyse it.
Algeria presents a much more complex picture of state strength, and
one that sharply illustrates the fickleness of the concept. 10 Until the
end of the 1980s, Algeria would have been judged the strongest state in
the region. However, its clay feet were shown in the riots of mid-
October 1988 and in subsequent reminders of the breakdown of civil
order'" Yet even after the state was shaken by society's rejection, its
stability remained high, as the institutional mechanisms for govern-
ment change and continuity - party congress, presidential election,
constitutional amendment, referendum - continued to function, a
testimony to the effective institutionalization carried out under the
regime of Houari Boumedienne (1965-78). Other measures of stability
are less supportive: the time-frame for stable expectations has been
seriously shortened, and the evolution of state institutions is uncertain.
State capacity is also in a special category, for as arentier state,
Algeria takes 85 per cent of its revenues from non-tax sources,
l. Wil/iam Zartman 245
revealing a very different state--society relationship than in 'normal'

cases. 12 There is no record of distributive capacities comparable to the
Moroccan and Tunisian figures, nor are efficiency figures available.
Again, the 1988 riots protested the inability of the state to assure
effective distribution, but comparable indicators are not available to
check this impression.
While thc Aigerian state receives its highest marks on the component
of external security, the challenges have not been as great as to
Morocco or even Tunisia. Again, in the aftermath of the October
1988 riots, marks are much lower on internal security, since the
challenges from society were repressed late and with heavy force,
and they have continued to reappear from time to time thereafter.
Defence costs about 10 per cent of government expenditures over the
1980s.
Autonomy in Aigeria is as high as in other states of the region.
Accountability is lower. Participation rates in the three referenda of
1988 fell 10 per cent on each occasion. The head of state, Chadli Ben
ladid (1979-92), was elected unopposed, but the introduction of a
multiparty era in 1989-90 brought sudden uncertainty. Impressionistic
evidence, the best available, suggests that the Aigerian state is both
strong in its own right, although its internal coherence has been greatly
weakened in the past years, and weak in relation to its society. This
conclusion also reflects impressionistic evidence about the crisis of
legitimacy in the Aigerian state.
Libya and Sudan are at the other end of the spectrum, albeit in
different positionsP Muammar Gaddafi's (1969- ) vigorous quest for
guided democracy has all but destroyed the institutionalized state in
Libya and replaced it with self-consuming participation and one-man
rule. In Sudan, the state is near collapse, undermined and tom apart
by its suicidal internal war.
Stability in Libya has been high since the extra-legal regime change
in 1969 because the leader has not changed, and government changes
are infrequent. Attempted coups occur from time to time but the field
has remained calm since the mid-1980s. However, the regime is not
institutionalized, there is no constitution as such, and organs of
government are added and altered at will by the leader. His unpredict-
ability makes long-term expectations risky; the only solid expectation
is that the eventual disappearance of Gaddafi will produce major
changes in the state, in unpredictable directions. Attempts to impose
revolutionary responsibility further reduce predictability about govern-
ment operations and coherence about government policy.
Libya's capacity as astate is also mixed. More than Algeria, its

nature as arentier state limits its extractive capabilities, but, also more
than Algeria, its distributive capabilities are unusually high; as with
Algeria, comparable figures are not available. 14 Since the mid-1980s,
the fall in oil revenues has diminished outputs without enabling the
state to shift to inputs from society.
Security is weak and untested in Libya. The army has never been
victorious in any of its adventures in foreign or border activities: Egypt
in 1977, Uganda in 1979 and Chad in 1980-87. 15 Instead, it has been
the source of most of the plotting against the regime, and as a result
has been divided, downgraded, and finally, in 1989, disbanded.
Internal security had been assured by East Germany, making Libya
probably the largest exception to state autonomy in the region.
The Libyan state is in no way responsible to its society; it is
ultimately accountable to its own leader, and in immediate terms is
often undermined in its functioning by attempts to impose account-
ability on appointed revolutionary committees. Elections are irregular
and unrelated to leadership changes. As usual, legitimacy is hard to
judge. Both observers' reports and Gaddafi's own efforts at social
change indicate that the state is distant from or in conflict with its
society, and, except for its distributive capacity, is generally weak in its
own right.
The Sudanese state is highly unstable. Competitive legal elections
generally occur about once a decade (the 1970s being skipped entirely),
and when they do occur they are the source of further governmental
paralysis and incoherence. Alllegally elected governments have been
overthrown, and attempted coups are common even against illegally-
installed governments. The coups of the 1980s progressively limited
government options, reducing the capacity of the state. As a result, the
typical symptoms of state collapse are beginning to appear: 16 a third of
the country is lost to state control, and even within the rest, regions
and groups are falling to the jurisdiction of local security forces and
local authorities. None the less, defence took an average of 10 per cent
of state revenues throughout the 1980s. 17
Sudan is anything but arentier state. Its resources are limited and
inefficiently distributed. Social and economic allocations are low: 8 per
cent + 1 per cent and 21 per cent + 9 per cent for the early 1980s, later
figures being unavailable, at a cost of 25· per cent, for a ratio of only
1.5: 1. The figures come from the relatively stable years of the Jaafar
Numeiri regime (1969-85); the absence of later figures is itself
indicative of breakdown. Extractive capacity is also weak: throughout
the 1980s, about 16 per cent of state revenue came from taxes on
income and about the same from taxes on goods and services, while
ab out half of state revenues eame from taxes on international
transaetions, above all (95 per cent) from import duties. 18
Accountability is absent in Sudan. Tbe only effective responsibility
is toward the army. Although Sudan is infused with a deep democratie
spirit and the infrequent elections are eondueted on the basis of
eompetitive multiparty participation, the parties are aetually seetarian
organizations and attempts to break away from the hold of the sects
have been unsuccessful. Tbere is little legitimaey left in the Sudanese
state, and if the Sudanese People's Liberation Army (SPLA) of John
Garang is presented as an attempt to restore legitimaey, its popular
acclaim in that direction is not strong either.
Tbus North Afriea contains a speetrum of state strengths for a
variety of reasons. Instruetive diversity is present even in the evolution
of the cases: Morocco and Tunisia have gradually strengthened as
states since their independence over three decades ago, Sudan and
Libya have digressively weakened from already weak origins nearly
four deeades ago, and Aigeria has undergone sharp and revealing
shoeks after a quarter-century of progressive state building. 19 Tbe
questions can now be posed: what has been the role of the military in
state-building? And what is the position of the military in this
speetrum of state types?
MILITARY ROLES IN STATE-BUILDING
Military roles ean be examined under four eategories: within the

politieal system; within society; in domestie poliey-making; and in
external policy. Once again, North Africa provides a spectrum of roles
that will permit some conclusions about the relation between military
roles, security funetions, and state-building. (See Appendix, Table A.3
for eomparative data.)
The military in the polity
Tbe military is very mueh an appendage of the civilian polity in

Morocco, Tunisia and Libya, despite the great differences among
those three political systems. In these cases, the military establishment
reports to the head of state and is under tight politieal and operational
eontrol. It is kept out of any formal or informal political role and is
not consulted on policy matters. In Morocco and Libya, the military

has been kept active in the south of the respective countries, which has
gained it high prestige in Morocco and disdain in Libya. In both states,
it is part of the official corruption system that rewards and compro-
mises members of the polity.
The military in all three countries has been involved in coups and
rumours of coups throughout the years of independence, and specifi-
cally in the 1980s, although again from very different positions with
very different results. In Libya, where the regime of Gaddafi came to
power in 1969 in a military coup, there were coup attempts in the 1980s
(in 1980, 1981, 1984 and 1985). Further plots in 1986 appear to have
been cut short by the American raid on Tripoli, and tight control of
the military has kept down their anti-regime activity thereafter, despite
expectations of a military revolt after the defeat in Chad in 1987. In
Morocco, after two significant military coup attempts in 1971 and
1972, there was another suspected coup in preparation in 1983, at
which time the presumed leader, General Ahmed Dlimi, died under
mysterious circumstances. In both cases, this activity merely reaffirms
the position of the military as being under the vigilant control of the
eivilian polity, in their own separate niehe in the political system. In
Tunisia, matters appear different, but this is not the case, in faet. 20 The
state is headed by a military security officer who, when serving as
prime minister, took over power legally by a strained reading of the
constitution, with the active involvement of the gendarmerie but with
the army kept on the sidelines. The accession was not a military coup,
although military loyalty and support was assured by the prime
minister's consultation with the military. Ben Ali's effort was precisely
to keep his own military in its traditional position, in its separate niche
on the fringes of the polity.21
The military's position in the polity is very different in Algeria and
in Sudan. The National Peoples' Army (ANP) is guardian of the polity
in Algeria, an active intervener in the political system and a vigilant
watchdog over the state between interventions. It installed Ahmed Ben
Bella (1962-65) in power upon independence; removed hirn and
installed its own chief, Boumedienne, in 1965; split and put down a
revolt by some of its own members led by Chief of Staff Col. Tahar
Zbiri, in 1967; carefully controlled the constitutional process (thus
forestalling the need for another coup), by which its ranking regional
commander, Ben Jadid, was chosen to succeed Boumedienne after the
latter's death in 1978; and supported Ben Jadid against the insubordi-
nation of his dismissed prime minister, former Col. Kasdi Merbah, in
1989. Tbus the role of the ANP has shifted from an extra-legal
intervener in tbe political system to a watcbful supporter of its
constitutional processes, as long as these provide outcomes satisfac-
tory to the army, so rendering direct intervention unnecessary.22 In
mid-1989, following new constitutional provisions, the ANP members
resigned en bloc from the ruling single party, tbe National Liberation
Front (FLN), a move that affected their formal position but not the
military's role as a political watcbdog. In January 1992, tbe military
intervened to abort a victory by the Islamic Salvation Front in
Algeria's first open elections. Ben Jadid's resignation was secured,
and the army played a key role in the country's new leadersbip.
In Sudan, the military interventionism bas also increased as the state
has moved towards collapse. Tbe military first intervened into a
deadlocked polity on invitation from civilian authorities in 1958, was
overthrown by a civilian 'mini-revolution' and its own internal in-
fighting in 1964, returned to remove another deadlocked civilian polity
in 1969, wore out its own welcome as it fell prey to similar society-
based deadlocks in 1985, and returned to remove another deadlocked
civilian government in 1989. In between these dates, almost every year
was punctuated by military coup plots and attempts, whether the
military itself was in power or not. It was society's aversion to anotber
military government after the excesses of Numeiry that delayed tbe
latest intervention unti11989. Once again, and more tban in the 1960s
and 1970s, the military has shown itself to be incapable of resolving the
problems of state and society, but there is no likelihood that that
conclusion will prevent military factions from trying their band against
their own regime in coming months and years, as an aborted coup in
May 1990 showed. Yet one sbould not be too quick to correlate
military intervention and state collapse as cause and efTect. Tbe causal
arrow is stronger in the otber direction, as the hesitancy of the military
to intervene at the end of the 1980s indicates. Military intervention in
Sudan has always been a response to the incapability of the civilian
state, and tbe deadlocking divisions of society bave brougbt the
military to its knees, just as they bave been reflected in civilian
government.
The military in domestic policy-making
Very little is known about military participation in political decision-

making in Nortb Africa, even in Sudan (and, after January 1992, in
Algeria) wbere military responsibility in a mixed civilian-military
government is tempered by the use of technicians in policy-making

positions. Furthermore, it is important to separate top military figures
in civilian positions (from Gaddafi, Ben Ali and Ben Jadid, and Omar
Hassan al-Bashir, to Major Abd al-Salam Jalloud, Gen. Abd al-Hamid
al-Sheikh, Col. Merbah, and members of the Sudanese junta) from the
military per se, and within the latter to distinguish actions involving
the participation of a representative committee of military officers
from a broader consultation with the officer corps. As noted, in all of
Mediterranean North Africa, and probably in Sudan as weil, it is the
broad acquiescence and support of the officers that is assured by the
regime, not their involvement in specific policy decisions. Even in
A1geria, the top officers and the Council of the Revolution on which
some of them sat, complained under the latter part of Boumedienne's
regime that they were left outside any policy consultation, a position
where they again seemed to find themselves under Ben Jadid.
A general area where military concern for policy may be expected
concerns security versus development allocations, and specifically the
size of the defence budget. North African military budgets are not
large: including Sudan, which is at war (but excluding Morocco and
Libya, which are also at war), they are about at the African average or
less. Libya, of course, is the striking exception, with one of the world's
largest military budgets as apercentage of any other measure of
expenditure (for example, GNP or total budget). Pressure for such
large military expenditure comes from the Libyan executive itself,
however, and not from the military. Moreover, much of the large
sum is spent on procurement for stockpiling, ostensibly for use by
foreign forces. 23 In Morocco, the military budget serves to keep the
military busy and satisfied, but the war they wage is the cause of both
state and society, a rallying issue that holds the two together by
responding to popular feelings and state needs. As a whole, the
military benefits from the cause and has no need to demand addi-
tional consideration. Furthermore, in all countries the army is enough
of a social and economic as weil as military actor to benefit from any
development measures rather than contest them. Army officers
themselves, or their families, tend to be businessmen or landowners,
and therefore directly concerned with national development.
Specific pressure from the military, however, comes not so much
from an annual review of development versus defence programmes but
from aperiodic call for military modernization. Recent moderniza-
tions have come in Morocco in 1976-77 and 1980-82, at the beginning
and the middle ofthe Saharan campaign; in Algeria in 1974-76, 1980-
81 and 1986; in Tunisia in 1979 and 1983; and in Sudan between 1978
and 1982. Libya seems simply to have followed a constant anns
purehase policy from the time of Gaddafi's take-over until oil
revenues ran out in the mid-1980s. In some cases, such as Tunisia's,
military modemisation took a long time in coming (although the
debate still continues as to whether it was justified as an allocation
of scarce resources even at that time), and in Morocco's (and
Tunisia's) case, even with modernization the anny lagged far behind
threatening neighbours in modem materiel. On the other hand, in
Aigeria, frequent periodic modernizations were payoffs for anny
support and responses to anny pressure, inevitably taking resources
from development programmes (even during the height of the oil
boom). In Sudan, modernization was an answer to military demands
for materiel when the polity should have been looking for a non-
military solution to its problem. In addition, the military's demands
for modernization also found support from foreign suppliers, notably
from the United States in the case of Tunisia and Sudan (and probably
from the USSR in the ca se of Libya). Periodic modernization
programmes for unnecessary military activities are the largest source
of military conflicts with development needs; they are rarely justified
and certainly not in the quantity that occur. Modernization pro-
grammes are usually a response to a neighbour's modernization, so
that controls would have to break a cyc1e that is not necessarily limited
to the region alone.
The military in foreign poliey
The military may be expected to have special views and roles in foreign
policy and policy-making. For example, as practitioners of conflict, the
military would be expected to have particular views on conflict
avoidance, conflict seeking, and conflict tennination. The military
might also have its own definitions of security, or at least a heightened
awareness of security needs by a common definition, leading to the
military procurement programmes discussed above. In the case of
Morocco and Sudan, this topic overlaps the previous discussion, but
military views on the conduct of the southern wars are considered here.
Although there have been divergences within each country's military
establishment, the military has generally held a hawkish view of
security in North Africa. The Royal Anned Forces (FAR) has looked
forward to a return match with the ANP ever since the stalemated
border war of 1963, and has kept the political system on guard against
a diplomatie seIl-out in the Sahara. This was the eomplaint alleged to

General Dlimi, and after the Moroccan-Algerian rapprochement in
May 1988 one high-ranking offieer's instinctive response was a
suspicious, 'We want to know what we will have to pay for it'. The
military pressed for hot pursuit, for the extension of the Wall south-
ward around the Sahara, and for command autonomy in the field. It
was correct and heeded on the latter two points. On the other side of
the border, the ANP officers were, if anything, even more hawkish.
They too looked forward to a return match against the F AR, which
they expected to win. The officers, especially those from the western
(Bechar) military region were known to form an important group
among the hardliners who hemmed in Ben Jedid's personal concilia-
tory proclivities. Over and over again this group blocked seemingly
promising openings, until finally Ben Jedid feIt strong enough and
finances were weak enough to justify the 1988 reconciliation with
Morocco. In Tunisia, the military tends to strongly encourage the
powerful Tunisian fear of an attaek from Libya, and even more so, of
protection by Aigeria. These perceptions, which are sometimes shared
by part of the civilian elite as weIl, serve to justify cautious and
suspicious policies towards neighbours and a wariness about coopera-
tion and conflict resolution measures. But anything else would be
surprising: such is the military's job. A more important point is that,
even in Aigeria, the military weighed in with its expertise and opinion
in government councils but it obeyed the ensuing policy decisions.
Even in Algeria, the military was not alone in its hardline position but
was allied to an equally hawkish faction within the party. On matters
within its domain, the military plays its role as policy contributor and
poliey executor, contributing as weIl to the institutionalization of the
state.
Little is known of the military's policymaking role in Libyan
conflicts, and its role in Sudan is even more confused. As might be
expected, the military has been tom between demands for a harder line
(inc1uding more materie!) for the successful pursuit of its war against
the southern rebels, and a frustrated attack on the govemment (civilian
or military) for not being able to bring the war against fellow citizens
to a face-saving end. When the military takes over government,
however, it is incapable of a policy of negotiated settlement to the
conflict; the only exception was Numeiry and it took him three years,
shifting domestie bases of support, and an unusually statesmanlike
sense to bring forth a negotiating poliey and the 1972 Addis Ababa
agreements (whose implementation he then eancelled a decade later).
When the military has aeted as a military, it has pursued a harsh poliey
of eolonization of the south and of aggressive response to the rebels,
both against the Anyanya in the 1960s and against the SPLA in the
1980s. In both cases this poliey has been a failure, whieh only inereases
the frustration and aggressive reaetion of the army. To eomplete the
pieture but in less detail, it should be mentioned that the Sudanese
army has also pursued a generally military poliey toward ineursions
and subversions on its north-west border from Libya and was
supportive of an anti-Libyan resistance of the Armed Forces of the
North (FAN) of Hissene Habre in Chad. Like the military in Algeria
in 1965, and the suspected reaetion of at least some Moroccan army
oflicers in 1983, and unlike the response ofthe ANP and the FAR the
rest of the time, the Sudanese army has intervened regularly not only
in the operations but directly in the ehoice of the govemment when it
sees ehronie failure or indecision in its southem poliey. Despite its
splits, the military is the frustrated vehicle of a hardline poliey towards
eonfliet in Sudan.
The military in society
Mueh was made in the early literature on the military as an agent of

politieal development, about the military role as the progressive but
organized vanguard of society, the bridge between traditional society
and modemizing political efTorts. 24 Tbe same theme is present in the
self-advertisements of the Algerian army, where national service is
portrayed as bringing segments of the population together in patriotie
aetivity and where the oflicer corps keeps the image of a hotbed of
revolutionary modemizing thinking; it is also present in the self-image
of the Moroccan army, where the military in the Sahara is seen as the
institutionalized Green Mareh,2S representative of the population in
uniform defending the cause of national integrity. Since the state-
society relationship is an important aspect of state strength and state-
building, does the military playa signifieant role in tying the two
together?
Tbe verdiet is not clear, for it involves two contradietory compo-
nents. On one hand, the army is indeed the society mobilized in its
enlisted mass. Casualties bring military aetivities to the heart of the
home, and in all countries, but most importantly in Morocco and
Algeria where the military is large, the army is one big state 'make-
work' projeet. Tbe military are not janissaries, a hothouse elite eorps
eut ofT from society, but in all cases they come from and retain ties
with their societies. On the other hand, the officer corps in particular is
by its nature and calling set somewhat apart from civilian society.
Although officers have civilian friends and (except in the field) live and
mix with the world around them, they are more separated from the rest
of society than are other professions. With a foot firmly plan ted in
both state and society, the military faces the crucial choice of loyalties
when it is required to back up the police and put down civilian
uprisings against the government. In Morocco in 1965, 1981 and
1984; in Algeria in 1985, 1989, 1990 and 1992; in Tunisia in 1978
and 1984; and in Sudan on numerous occasions except for 1964, the
army has steadfastly opted for the state.
CONCLUSION: SECURITY AS DEVELOPMENT
There seems little doubt that, especially in the Third World, the
notion of security needs to be expanded to include the establishment
of an institutionalized political order capable of assuring minimal
protection to the weIl-being of its society, beyond the narrower
military notion of security as defence. 26 The notion seems closely
related to the well-established definition of national interest as the
defence of the 'political independence and territorial integrity, way of
life and standard of living of the country'. Security therefore involves
support for the establishment of a stable state, with a capacity to
provide and defend these values, legitimate and accountable before its
own society and not externally. Except in Libya and Sudan, the
military has been seen to be perhaps surprisingly supportive of this
development.
Yet political development and the buHding of a moderately strong
state has been undermined by government policies in Libya and
Sudan, and government policies have buHt a deceptively strong state
that has alienated itself from its society in Aigeria. Can the role of the
military be invoked to explain any part of these developments? It
would be tempting to conclude with the facHe observation that these
are the states where the military has taken power. Yet the military role
has been different in each case. It might also be tempting for this
analysis to be able to ascribe all state weaknesses to the military's role.
Yet that would be a contradiction of the very notion of state-buHding
and political development.
The best conclusion is to confirm the positive role of the military in
those cases where the military has acted supportively to state-buHding:
in tbe cases of state weakness, it bas not, in different ways. But tbe
weakness really lies elsewbere in the system, not in tbe military's role.
Aigeria's problem is a weakness of accountability, an obstinate
clinging on to old policies wben the population bas demanded new
ones; the military bas been part of tbe bardline group but not its only
element of support. Libya's and Sudan's problems are more serious, in
cause as weil as in effect: popular accountability bere means stagna-
tion (and it is incidentally to Gaddafi's credit that be bas recognized
tbis, no matter bow unsuccessful bis remedies). Accountability in
Libya and Sudan was dysfunctional in the terms in wbicb it was
posed, and effective state-building policies required the restructuring
of tbose terms to produce positive responses. Gaddafi bas tried
repeatedly; the Sudanese leaders bave not. Tbe military can be faulted
as mucb as anyone in tbose countries for not contributing to
constructive leadersbip, but tbe sole and ultimate responsibility is
not tbeirs. State-building and political development are active con-
cerns, security tends to be a reactive concern. Political development
sbould contribute to security and produce a stronger state; over-
concern witb security may binder development and ultimately weaken
tbe state.
Notes
1. Niccolö Machiavelli, The Prinee (New York: Mentor, 1952), ch. 12, p. 72.
I am grateful to Frederick Ehrenreich for the reference and other
comments, and also to Michael Schatzberg for his comments on this
chapter.
2. Peter Evans, Dietrich Rueschemeyer and Tbeda Skocpol (eds), Bringing
the State Back In (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1985). See
also Giacomo Luciani (ed.), The Arab State (Berkeley, Calif.: University
ofCalifornia Press, 1990); Bertrand Badie, Les deux Etats (paris: Fayard,
1987); Zaki Ergas (ed.), The African State in Transition (New York:
Macillan, 1987); and Jean-Fran~is Bayard, L'Etat en Afrique (paris:
Fayard, 1989).
3. I. William Zartman and Adeed Dawisha (eds), Beyond Coercion: The
Durabi/ity of the Arab State (London: Croom Helm, 1988) p. 2; and
Giacomo Luciani (ed.), The Arab State, p. xviii.
4. Tbe subject goes back to Gabriel Almond and James Coleman (eds), The
Po/ities of Deve/oping Areas (princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press,
1960), Gabriel Almond and Bingham Powell, Comparative Po/ities: A
Developmenta/ Approach (Boston, Mass.: Little Brown, 1966); and
subsequent literature in the same tradition.
5. See Ghassan Salame, '''Strong'' and "Weak" States: A Qualified Return
to the Muqaddimah'; and Elbaki Hermassi, 'State-Building in the
256 State-Building and the Military in Arab Afriea
Maghreb', in Ghassan Salame (ed.), The Foundations of the Arab State

6. For recent analyses of Tunisia and Morocco, see I. William Zartman
(ed.), Tunisia: The Politieal Eeonomy of Reform (Boulder, Col.: Lynne
Rienner Publishers, 1990); and I. William Zartman (ed.), The Political
Economy of Morocco (New York: Praeger, 1987).
7. Data for this analysis come from UNDPflBRD, African Economic and
Financial Data (New York: United Nations Development Programme;
Washington: World Bank, 1989) eh. 4.
8. See I. William Zartman, Ripe for Resolution: Conflict and Intervention in
Africa, 2nd edn (New York: Oxford, 1989).
9. Remy Leveau, Le fellah marocain, defenceur du trone, 2nd edn (paris:
Fondation nationale des sciences politiques, 1985), esp. eh. 11.
10. For a recent survey of the Aigerian system, see John Entelis, Algeria: The
Revolution Institutionalized (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1986).
11. There is not yet a good analytical study of the October 1988 riots. See
Dirk Vandewalle, 'Autopsy of aRevolt', Institute of Current World
Affairs, DJV-29 (October 1988); and 'Algeria', Africa Contemporary
Record 1988 (New York: Holmes & Meier, 1990).
12. Jean Leca, 'Social Strueture and Politieal Stability: Aigeria, Syria and
Iraq', in Zartman and Dawisha (eds), Beyond Coercion; and Dirk
Vandewalle, 'Politieal Aspects of State-Building in Rentier Economies:
Aigeria and Libya', in Hazem Beblawi and Giacomo Luciani (eds), The
Rentier State (London: Croom Helm, 1987).
13. For a good background on contemporary Sudan, see Mare Lavergne
(ed.), Le Soudan contemporain (paris: Karthala, 1990); on Libya, see
Lillian Harris, Libya (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1988).
14. Dirk Vandewalle, 'Politieal Aspects of State-Building'.
15. William Foltz, 'Libya's Military Power'; Rene Lemarehand, 'The Case of
Chad'; and Ronald St. John, 'The Libyan Debacle in Subsaharan Africa',
in Rene Lemarehand (ed.), The Green and the Black: Gadhafi's Policies in
Africa (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1988).
16. Olasegun Obasanjo, Franeis Deng and I. William Zartman, Peacemaking
in the Sudan (Washington, DC: Brookings, 1990); see also Naomi
Chazan, An Anatomy of Ghanaian Politics (Boulder, Col.: Westview
Press, 1983).
17. UNDPflBRD, African Economic and Financial Data, p. 125.
18. UNDPflBRD, African Economic and Financial Data, p. 125.
19. See also Fathallah Oualalou and Larbi Jaidi, 'Fiscal Resources and
Budget Financing in the Countries of the Maghreb', in Beblawi and
Lueiani (eds), The Rentier State.
20. Louis B. Ware, 'The Role of the Tunisian Military in the Post-Bourguiba
Era', Middle Bast Journal, 39, I (Winter 1985) pp. 27-47.
21. Louis Ware, 'Ben Ali's Constitutional Coup', and Dark Vandewalle,
'From the New State to the New Era', Middle East Journal, 42, 4
(Autumn 1988) pp. 587--60 1 and 602-20.
22. I. William Zartman, 'L'armee dans la politique algerienne', Annuaire de
I'Afrique du Nord 1967 (paris: CNRS, 1969); Zartman, 'The Aigerian
Army in Transition', in John Harbeson (ed.), The African Military in
Politics (New York: Praeger, 1987); and Zartman, 'L'clite algerienne sous
le president Chadli Ben Djedid', Maghreb-Machrek, 106 (October 1984)
pp. 37-53.
23. See I. William Zartman, 'Arms Imports: The Libyan Experience', World
Military Expenditures and Ärms Transfers 1971-80 (Washington, De:
Arms Control and Disarmament Agency, 1983).
24. S. E. Finer, Men on Horseback (New York: Praeger, 1962); William
Gutteridge, MUitary Institutions and Power in the Third World (New
York: Praeger, 1965); J. M. Lee, Ärmies and CMI Order (New York:
Praeger, 1969); Leo Hamon (ed.), Le role extra-militaire de I'armee dans le
Tiers Monde (paris: PUF, 1966), with chapter on Morocco and Tunisia.
25. Jerome Bookin-Weiner, 'The Green March in Historical Perspective',
MitJdle Bast Journal, 30, 1 (1979) pp. 20-33.
26. Ibrahim Gambari (ed.), On Security in Äfrica (Washington, DC: Brook-
ings, 1990).
12 State and Society in the
Arab World: Towards a
New Role for the
Security Services?
Elizabeth Picard
When one discusses political development in the Arab world, especially

in the Maghreb and the Arabian peninsula, it is necessary to underline
the extreme fragility of most local states. Although they present many
of the essential characteristics of modern statehood, most of them have
vulnerable frontiers (and some, threatening neighbours); their political
structures are recent; they lack key skills; and their societies are
divided. Thus their rulers' task is immense - and so are the demands
of their societies.
The economic development of these states is no less questionable. In
most of the Middle East, traditional rural and bedouin life has been
suddenly unsettled by the eruption of world capitalism and the
introduction of agricultural or natural resource monoproduction.
The leaders of Arab states are now faced with the problems of
providing scientific training, access to modern technology, and the
financing of huge needs in the fields of equipment, health and
education for their population.
What will be the contribution of Arab security forces in these new
tasks? How can they answer to security as weIl as to development
requirements? In his examination of North Africa in Chapter 11,
William Zartman refers to a puzzling contradiction: 'the greater role
of the military ... the less the political development of the state ... but
possibly the more secure the state'. Is this also the case in the eastern
Arab world, in so far as relations between the state and civil society,
and the process of nation-building, are concerned?
This chapter will review the past experiences of Arab military
authoritarianism, and acknowledge its limits and poor record in the
field of social and political development. It will then consider new
trends in security and development in the Middle East during the past
decade. It will also emphasize the new centrality of the armed forces
258
Elizabeth Picard 259
(especially of their officers) in the more 'open' economy of most Arab

states, a process referred to as 'the triumph of the military-munfatihun
lobby'. Finally, the chapter will examine the various answers given by
today's security-oriented Arab regimes to growing demands for
democracy, and discuss the military's dilemma between economic
and financial requirements on the one hand, and popular pressure
for political participation on the other.
ARAB MILITARY AUTHORITARIANISM
During the first decades following their independence most Arab

states, whenever they are confronted with problems of underdevelop-
ment, vast domestic inequalities and external threat, gave the pre-
ference to authoritarian political strategies. Whenever coups d'etat
took place, external observers considered the succession of military
plots as accidental and pondered over the chances of civilianization of
the new regimes. In fact, the take-over of power - whether by army
officers, or by an authoritarian one-party regime, or by a symbiotic
jam'a (group) with both party and army members - was not accidental.
Instead, it was a response to astate of political and economic
emergency that followed an unescapable logic.
At that time, external pressures strongly reinforced these local
tendencies. The international ideological debate was centred upon
two major preoccupations: the Cold War and the problem of Third-
World underdevelopment. Every newly-born state - and Arab states
were no exception - had to choose its camp and its allies. In American
doctrine ofthe 1950s and 1960s, the notion ofnational security implied
that armament and development were linked together. The Soviet
practice was not much different. Moreover, this attitude is one that is
far from obsolete today; as the British representative put it to the 1987
UN Disarmament Conference (wh ich the Uni ted States refused to
attend), 'to provide security for the citizen ... is the raison d'etre of
government. Prosperity, welfare, all the rest, follow,.1 Similarly, the
United States has maintained a strategy involving a elose relationship
between economic and military assistance in so far as its Third-World
allies are concerned. Thus Egypt, which ranks high in US concerns,
received US$1293 million in economic aid and US$1245 million in
military assistance in 1986 alone.
At the same time, one should not underestimate the influence of
Arab cultural heritage. The predominance of patriarchy in local
260 State and Society in the Arab World
societies plays a role. So too does Islamic doctrine, which considers

Muslims less as citizens of astate than as subjects of a roler, as Zayni
Barakat once reminded the people of Cairo. 2 But to take Tbeda
Skocpol's suggestion,3 foreign intervention, be it direct or indirect,
appears decisive for a weak state at the crossroads of political and
economic choices. In that respect, no one could dismiss the fact that
two centuries of European pressures on the Ottoman empire and half a
century of colonial rule had played their part in leading the new Arab
states on the authoritarian path.
Arab experiences in authoritarian security-oriented regimes should
be assessed in this context. When taking hold of power in the 1950s
and 1960s, the new rulers intended to control the production and
distribution of aIl material and symbolic goods in the country. Tbe
national economy was to be planned, highly centralized, and the
production organized under state capitalism with strong social
leanings, a model stamped 'socialism' by Soviet analysts at that
time. Arab rulers also wanted to politicize the masses, and for their
regimes to become the ultimate reference of aIl social activities. As a
result, close attention was paid to military duty (supposed to be a
school of civic indoctrination), as weIl as to education programmes,
and the pervasiveness of the one-party model. Tbe party, the legacy of
Arab culture and of Islam, and the nation-state model aIl contributed
towards legitimizing the security apparatus in the process of nation-
building. Far from being an external actor interfering in the system
from time to time, the security forces were part of it, even central to
the state.4
For three decades, two decisive elements contributed to enhance the
legitimacy of Arab authoritarian regimes: first, the duration of external
conflicts, whether colonial wars or inter-Arab feuds; and second, the
flow of petrodoIlars controlled by the state apparatus. Therefore
security and development were closely linked through the whole
period in both state ideologies and state policies.
Today, the balance sheet of authoritarian developmentalist regimes
in the eastern Arab world appears to be clearly negative in the
security field as weIl as at the economic level. As far as security is
concerned, none of the extremely costly wars since 1948 can be
labelIed a success, be it the Sahara, Chad, or the Arab-Israe1i wars;
even the October 1973 war was a defeat. Similarly, the Iran-Iraq war
- while lost by Iran - cannot be considered to be a victory for Iraq.
As for the 1990-91 Gulf War, it resulted in disaster for Iraq. On the
economic level, an 'everything for the state' logic has given rise to
bureaucratic inflation, to distortions and paralysis, all of them hidden

and enhanced by the abundance of the oil rent. And finally, the
revolutionary state had become arentier state, led by 'neo-Mame-
lukes', s a privileged caste that has dominated the society through its
alliance with technocrats.
NEW TRENDS IN SECURITY AND DEVELOPMENT
In recent years, several elements have modified the relationship

between security and development in the Arab East. These have also
sometimes applied to the states of the Arabian Peninsula and also, in
some ways, to the Maghreb.
First change: a oel\' appraisal of tbe external tbreat
External security threats, although still present, have become much

more diffuse and less immediate. As shown by the Gulf War, the tight
military balance in the region makes any armed conflict more costly,
involving other participants besides close neighbours, especially with
the use of ballistic missiles. 6 War can even be waged on an external
battlefield, as undertaken by Syria and Israel in Lebanon for more
than ten years, and as is happening between Syria and Iraq at the
present time. Still, authoritarian rulers may need to invoke or even to
create external threat in order to enable their regime to survive. First of
all, they profit economically from such a threat. Both Ba'athist Syria
and Iraq received several billion dollars from the rich Arab oil
producers to help them in their 'confrontation' with Israel and Iran
respectively. External threat is often a powerful means of silencing
internal strife, even of gaining some popular legitimacy. Hafez al-
Assad's regime, for example, was 'rescued' after the terrible Hama
uprising in February 1982, and its defeat in the Lebanese Shufin June,
by the American-Ied Multinational Force's shelling of Syrian positions
during the following year. As for Saddam Hussein, his successive
defeats on the southern Mesopotamian front during the Iran-Iraq war
gained him some national consensus (Kurds excepted), however
limited. A similar statement could probably be applied to King
Hassan 11 of Morocco, whose regime has benefited· politically from
the Sahara war. Finally, one can observe how most ofthe Gulfregimes
reacted on the domestic scene (both politically and at the security level)
to any change in the balance of forces during the Iran-Iraq war.
262 State and Society in the A.rab World
Eventually, an external threat, whether real of fictitious, keeps the

military institution busy and ensures financial resources to its mem-
bers, thus keeping them out of the political competition and of its
advantages. A corollary of this can be seen in the case of the Egyptian
army, 'deprived' of much of its war-fighting function by the signing of
the Egyptian-Israeli peace treaty in 1979. In its place, the military was
offered a substitute task, namely conversion into a rapid strike force
that could intervene in the Horn of Africa.'
Second change: a new understanding of defence tasks
As a consequence of their new appraisal of external threat, most Arab

regimes tend to determine new strategies for their armed forces. In a
few cases (Egypt, for example), one can observe a numerical decrease
in the armed forces. But these are exceptions. Everywhere else in the
Arab world the reverse - the growth of armed forces - is the rule (see
Appendix tables).8 Moreover, new ways of approaching external
defence, whether through rapidly growing military institutions (as is
the case for the states of the Arabian Peninsula) or through their
shrinking (as is the case for Egypt), has created a general tendency
towards the modernization of military forces and a growing sophisti-
cation of military equipment. In the Arab world this implies both an
extremely high cost of military imports and a technological and
industrial effort intended to substitute for this with domestic military
production. 9
Third change: limitation of the direct political role of the military
Tbe changing attitude towards national security has served to generate

a decisive shift in the political role of the armed forces. During the first
two decades following 1948, a growing external threat and a beliefthat
the military was being starved of necessary resources by civilian elites
played a significant role in motivating military intervention in politics
in both Syria and Egypt. But in the recent period, political functions
and military functions are clearly being decoupled: while civilian
politicians are preoccupied with complex and difficult internal
choices, army officers appear more satisfied with their mission as weIl
as with the means at their disposal. More often, they tend to stand
apart from (or 'above') the 'dirty' political game. Nevertheless, as we
will see, this does not prevent them from interfering in social and
economic life.
Thus in the Arab world as a whole (apart from the turmoil that has
recently affected the Sudan and Algeria), the primary attention of the
armed forces has generally refocused on their security mission. They
have generally chosen, after the Turkish model, to 'return to their
barracks' and to stand as the warrant of the state, capable of
intervening in order to protect it, of re-establishing its authority
and of tuming it back to the civilian authorities. Even in those
countries where the head of state is a member of the army (such as
Syria, Egypt, Algeria, and now Tunisia) the army has lost its leading
role within the polity, either as an institution, or as a 'military
party,.10 This tendency is weIl illustrated by the case of Egypt, where
the proportion of ministerial positions held by military officers fell
from 20.6 per cent under Nasser to only 7.5 per cent under Sadat. lI
Anwar Sadat, and after him Hosni Mubarak, clearly intended to
demilitarize the Egyptian polity. Iraq is yet another example of astate
whose leader wants to counter the political activities of the military
command, albeit in a very different way. In this case, several top
officers have been victims of mysterious aircraft 'accidents' in recent
years. 12 Since the eviction of General Sa'dun Shakir in September
1990, for 'reasons of health', there are no more military members
within the Revolutionary Command Council, the highest state
authority.
Fourth change: liberal orientations in economic policy
Compared to the previous choices ofthe 1950s and 1960s, the changes
in the orientations of development policies in Arab countries, whether
labelled 'economic opening', infitah, or 'liberalization', have been far
more dramatic than changes in political direction. Such policies have
implied the abandonment of the 'all-to-the-state' logic, giving freer
reign to private agents. This materializes in both the economic freedom
to undertake ventures in practically all domestic productive and
commercial sectors, and in the establishment of relationships and
economic cooperation with a variety of external parties.
As a result, it is no longer pertinent to distinguish between 'socialist'
states and 'liberal' states in the Arab world. Indeed, since the 1980s the
privatization of economy has been of greater importance in the
'socialist' states than in the conservative monarchies of the Peninsu-
la, where the predominant oil sector still depends on the state.
Economic and ideological pressures are extremely strong, in large
part because this process is taking place in an international context
264 State anti Society in the Arab World
characterized by political depolarization and the economic pressures

exercised by international financial institutions. Infitah also bears a
particular significancc in the politica1 field, however, where economic
opening has raised parallel political questions regarding constitution-
alism, pluralism, respect of individual and civil rights and, finally, the
representation of the different classes and elements of society within
the power structure.
Because of these important changes, both in the evaluation of
external dangers and of policies of domestic development, one needs
to re-examine the placc of security forces in the Arab states in so far as
economic and political proccsses are concerned. They occupy a
different position compared to the time when military culture was
triumphant everywhere. But is not their position still ccntral, despite
the declarations of high-ranking officcrs that they wish to keep to their
defencc mission? What is the differencc, then, between the present
situation and the position that the army enjoyed within earlier
security-oriented regimes? Considering the failures of the 'all for the
state' period, is it possible to look at the" new mission of the armed
forces as being more positive? In order to answer these questions, one
must distinguisb (in an admittedly ratber artificial way) between
objectives in the field of economic development and objectives in the
field of political development - keeping in mind that infitah in fact
implies a dialectical relation between economic liberalism and political
rights.
ECONOMIC LIBERALIZATION AND THE MILITARY
Among the economic priorities of the Arab world at the end of the
1980s, several elements should be examined in their relation to national
security. These include the decreasing monetary rent accruing to Arab
economies (whether originating directly in oil exportations or indir-
ectly in migrants' remittanccs and foreign aid); the growing size of civil
and military debts; the dominancc of 'circulation' logic compared to
that of 'production' logic in Arab rentier states;13 the new importancc
given to the agricultural scctor in order to palliate a dangerous food
deficit; and the growth of the private sector, parallel to the public
sector but not replacing it. We shall see how the newly-defined security
objectives of the present Arab leaders are often contradictory to their
economic priorities, and how they contribute to modifying their
orientation and content.
The success of tbe 'miIitary-mllll/ati"",.' lobby
Since the oil recession in 1982-83, eastern Arab states, as weIl as Arab
states in the Peninsula, have suffered from resource constraints that
force their rulers to adopt dramatic choices. Syria, for example, came
close to financial suffocation in 1986 when its currency reserves fell to
as little as one week's worth of import coverage. That same year (as
weIl as the next), its GDP growth was negative. Syria's Ba'athist rulers
therefore decided to reduce the military budget in 1988, the more so as
their main supplier, the Soviet Union, was urging them to reimburse
an almost US$15 billion debt. 14 But the reduction was smaIl: President
Assad maintained a high level of military expenditure on the basis of
the Israeli threat and the hostility of Syria's Arab neighbours
(especially Iraq) towards its Lebanese policy. This was done at the
expense of socio-economic expenditure and daily consumption. It
forced the middle and lower classes of Syrian society to spend more;
in turn, lower savings led to low investment lS and the Syrian economy
was struck by stagflation. Of course, the situation is less perilous in the
oil-exporting states. This is why Iraq, despite its war with Iran and its
consequent military expenditure, was able to carry on a policy of social
redistribution until the end of 1986. From that time on, Iraqi civilian
and military external debts kept growing. Each amounted to more
than US$80 billion in 1990. But Saddam Hussein, because he
maintained a high level of military expenditure, chose to sacrifice
civilian consumption and equipment. 16 As for other oil-states, many
have reduced spending on daring cultural and social projects while
continuing to buy expensive military hardware.
The tensions between military and civilian needs are less spectacular
but equally dramatic when it comes to manpower. The security-
oriented Arab regimes have a whole range of means to make working
in the armed forces or the military industry attractive to the most
qualified personnei: prestige, career, various economic advantages, or
the retention (or drafting) of some graduates with rare qualifications
into the army. In Syria, for example, some engineers stayed enrolled
for five years of military service after completing their education.
Furthermore, the Syrian military has succeeded in gaining a foothold
in the new National Centre for Scientific Research in Damascus,
wherein some of the postgraduates with foreign university diplomas
are requested to give priority to military research. This demand on
technical expertise only aggravates the broader brain drain, further
slowing the development of the country.
One possible solution put forward to alleviate dependency on the

large amounts of foreign currency required for armament expenditure
has been to create local military industries. Every single Arab state is
trying to do so, most particularly Egypt, with its Arab Organization
for Industrialization, which has been producing locally nearly 60 per
cent of its own needs since the middle of the 1980s;7 and Iraq, where
in March 1988 the Ministry of Industry was merged with the Ministry
of Military Industries, under the command of a military officer. While
admitting the (relative) success of that sector, and even the benefits
coming from military exports (USS2 billion for Egypt in 1985),
contradictions remain that also prevail in other Arab military indus-
tries: military industrialization drains financial and human capital
from the necessary production of goods for the civilian sector.
Military apparatuses have launched ventures in the agricultural and
industrial production sector, as weIl as in services and real-estate
business. This, however, has nothing to do with the above criticism.
In doing so, the military's primary objective has been to provide for
their own needs in every field, to escape the general lack of goods.
One example of this can be seen in the extent to which the notion of
'food security' has now been embraced by many Arab armies. The
military has begun competing on civilian markets in this and other
areas, showing ambitions of the best liberal tradition. The results are
often quite remarkable. For instance, the Egyptian army has become a
leading economic actor: its Food Security Division controlled nearly 8
per cent of the total value of food produced in Egypt in 1986. 18 In
contrast to private industry, the manufacturing production controlled
by the Ministry for Military Production is booming. There are
numerous cases of spectacular successes, as in Syria where the famous
Sharikat al-Iskan alAskari under the direction of Major Bahlul became
the leading contracting firm in the country - before it went bankrupt in
1988. During the second half of the 1980s, wartime Iraq experienced a
similar economic boom in the construetion of roads, buildings and
airports by the military (especially by the 'Saddam Military Establish-
ment'), for either 'strategie' or 'social' purposes. As illustrated by the
decree establishing the Egyptian Military Organization for Civil
Projects in 1981;9 there are few sectors where entrepreneurial officers
are not at work. Even in the field of graduate schools they compete
with the best 'civilian' universities. Sueh is the case for Heliopolis in
Egypt, or Mu'tah in Jordan; the same is true for archeology, the fight
against pollution, and even fine arts, with Syria boasting a Minister of
Defence who is both a poet and a publisher.
The slogan of these new army managers is 'emcient management

and modem technology'. However, in order to be convinced that their
enterprises show developmentalist virtues or that they play a leading
role in encouraging the civilian sector, they should at least present the
same financial return criteria as in the kind of liberal economy they
pretend to achieve. In fact, nothing aUows us to reach that conclu-
sion. On the contrary, in Egypt (the one Arab country where this
problem is openly discussed) both the managers of the public sector
and the defenders of private enterprise agree that the sector controUed
by the military benefits from disguised subsidies. They come to the
conclusion that, instead of being an advantage for the country's
economy, it is costly for public finances, and that, instead of
stimulating competing civilian enterprises, it works against their
development. 20 In Algeria, where the October 1988 riots led to a
period of political liberalization, the negative effects of the prosperous
sector protected by the military were debated publicly. Syria is far
from such clarity, though its problems are similar. At the time of its
dramatic financial crisis in 1985-1987, many firms, 'either public or
private, suffered from restrictions imposed upon imports due to a lack
of foreign currency. At the same time, enterprises controUed by the
military escaped these measures. Instead, they were able to ignore the
restriction clauses by declaring any product (including even bathroom
ceramics!) as 'strategic'. Also, military enterprises continue to have
the ability to recruit the best personnel by offering them salaries
higher than those of the public or even the private sector, while
exploiting others by drafting them for several years in the name of
national service.
Undeniably, the 'rent' character of most Arab economies has
aUowed the military managers to forget about economic rationality,
particularly in those countries that have benefited from significant
levels of Arab aid in their struggles against Israel (namely Syria and
Jordan) or Iran (namely Iraq). (lnterestingly, despite this aid these
countries have made little effort to achieve any degree of regional
coordination in economic decision-making.) One has to go further in
criticizing the economic practices of armed forces, however, than mere
reference to a deficient or perverted economic rationality. One must
also express concern over the privileges of the military as a corpora-
tion; reveal its illegal manoeuvres; and finally, show how the
'clientelistic' system hampers national development.
First of aU, the main objective of the civilian enterprises controUed
by the armed forces is to improve the material conditions of their
members. In most Arab countries, armies are a different world, with

security of employment, high salaries, special housing, health, educa-
tion and other advantages. Even amidst drastic general shortages, it is
striking to notice that special military shops (to which only army
personnel have access) lack neither food products nor rare and costly
goods such as imported audio-visual equipment. In Syria, at the end
of the 1970s, one had to wait about five years to buy a Volkswagen
car - but army officers could get them in a few months. To put it
bluntly, in military-dominated Arab countries the society has become
divided between two types of consumers: civilians and the military. In
part, this explains why the armed forces are attractive to young
people and why the entrance to military schools has become so
selective. The existence of such privileges also explains why army
officers may be reluctant to leave their profitable position. In Algeria,
this latter problem has generated internal conflicts within the military
establishment. 21
Even when it does not assume that illicit character, the economic
relationship between the armed forces and civil society has, in most
cases, a patrimonial character. Because they occupy power positions,
security forces are able to impose economic choices which benefit their
personal, family and clan interests. Their choices give them financial
benefits at the time a contract is either decided or signed, a cost often
borne tater by the state or the population. Their objective is to enlist
politically devoted clients in the state bureaucracy and to trade goods
and services for loyalty and obedience.
In turn, military patronage has helped private contractors to
increase their share in the national economy. It has facilitated the
obtaining of permits, credit and raw materials. Together with officers,
private contractors share in ventures, and may eventually tighten their
economic links through family links. Syria's Vice-President, Rifat al-
Assad was the paramount example of such practices, also to be found
in Sadat's and Abu Ghazala's Egypt, or in Saddam's and Khayrallah's
Iraq.22 For years, the Syrian press has vainly denounced such practices
as tufayliyya or 'parasitism'. Certainly, patronage was a feature of
Arab politics long before the military regimes. But it seems that in the
present period, high-ranking officers have again become the necessary
intermediaries between state and society, as they once were in the
Ottoman empire. Their role as brokers has even extended under
infitah, when theft of public property, bribery of civil servants, graft
and nepotism have become commonplace, and the beneficiaries of
infitah (munfatihun) more important.
Infitah, the security services and the seareh for democraey
Despite the negative aspects of infltah (some of which have been noted
above), international financial institutions have long insisted that
infltah would in the long run have a positive impact on the economies
of Arab countries. Arab govemments have been pressed to undertake
such measures, whether by persuasion or through economic conditions
routinely imposed by the International Monetary Fund and other
lending agencies. Tbe course of economic opening in the Arab world,
however, depends upon uncertain elements, including the extension of
a 'riot culture' echoing the present domination of a military culture,
and the capability of authoritarian regimes to enlarge political
participation in their countries.
Following the political changes that took place in Eastern Europe in
1989 and 1990, a new question arose about what was often called the
'Ceausescu syndrome'. In other terms, could these changes provide a
model for political liberalization in the Arab East723 Although the
events were given surprisingly broad coverage, authoritarian regimes
such as Syria and Iraq took the opportunity to justify their own
repressive policy.
In fact, in recent years, the balance sheet of security versus
individual rights has deteriorated in the Arab East. Monarchies in
the Peninsula have accentuated the authoritarian features of their
regime: parliamentary life there is either unknown or suspended, the
press is censored and ordinary citizens are strictly watched. 24 In the
Gulf in particular, concern with external and internal subversion
looms large in this, with the tensions created by the Iranian revolution
and the GulfWar being considered dangerous for the existing regimes.
In the Arab authoritarian republics, however, economic difficulties
above all explain the intensification of police control. Here, leaders
have partly lost those sources of economic rent which once allowed
them to mobilize and support popular classes, leading many of them to
emphasize more authoritarian means of political control. Politically
speaking, therefore, infltah has brought about a reinforcement of
security tendencies in the Arab state and of the ruling role of armed
forces.
In view of this, it is not surprising that the human rights situation in
the Arab world has been labeled a 'disaster,.2S In Egypt this was
evident in the adoption by Sadat of Law Number 2 (1977), which
raised the punishment for 'illegal assembly' or strike to imprisonment
for life. More recently, one could point to the legal consequences ofthe
indefinite prolongation of Egypt's state of emergency, 'in order to

protect democracy and that until terrorism has disappeared', as the
authorities declare. 26 In Iraq, an amendment by the Iraqi Revolu-
tionary Command Council in November 1986 to section III of the
penal code imposed a life sentence for publicly insulting the president.
It is especially in relation to the enforcement of security laws by the
police that the authoritarian state has strengthened in the Arab world.
This can been seen, first of all, in the sheer size of public security
forces and paramilitary units (see Appendix Table A.3). Second, one
could also note the growing effectiveness and sophistication of the
security establishment, equipped with computers, communication
devices and the best of modem arms. Whether in Hama (1982), in
Cairo (1986), in Mecca (1987) or in the streets of Algiers (1988, 1990,
1992), the security forces (including the army called upon to back
them up) have demonstrated their efliciency. The Iraqi Republican
Guard, who fled disastrously in front of the international coalition in
February 1991, recovered to crush the Shi'ite and Kurdish rebellions
in the following weeks. Even the small monarchies of the Gulf,
although jealous of their sovereignty, have agreed (after the aborted
coup in Bahrain in 1981) to sign bilateral security co operation
agreements with powerful Saudi Arabia, before establishing an
institution equivalent to Interpol within the framework of the Gulf
Cooperation Council.
Even more striking is the silence which imprisons populations under
tight police control. Civil society is kept under the menace of
denunciation or retaliation, atomized and 'recreated' by the
mukhabarat state. The first people threatened are scientists, lawyers
and religious leaders, those capable of either expressing or organizing
opposition. Trade unions are tamed and professional organizations
suffer persecution, or at least they are systematically watched.
But precisely at the same time as the armed forces started playing a
new role under infitah, Arab states have experienced, for the past
twenty years or so, numerous signs of discontent, popular uprisings
and riots, all of them presenting common features. They are both
spontaneous and violent; young people and women play an important
part in them. They appear to be neither armed nor to be controlled by
a political party, at least not at the beginning. Their slogans have a
social or a moral tone, their targets have very specific and close links:
they are either symbolic places ofpower (especially police stations and
premises of the dominant party), or properties of the rich associated
with the powerful (such as import shops). Eventually, when such
popular unrest continues, it is strongly repressed; no solution is found

for the problems which caused it to exist; it is taken over by the actors
in the traditional political game, and finally denied. Tberefore popular
subversion has entered a vicious circle from which there seems to be no
wayout.
Even if of a different nature, violence organized by small groups
must be considered as parallel to these uprisings, and more generally
has to be considered within the framework of an expanding 'riot
culture', which is a direct answer to the domination of the authoritar-
ian state and to the triumphant 'military culture'. This 'riot culture'
more or less takes root in the historical heritage specific to the Islamic
Middle East. While Western societies are able to put demands to their
political leaders through mediators, the populations of many Arab
societies, systematically excluded from the political scene by an
authoritarian power, tend to deny the legitimacy of that power.
Instead, it is considered as unjust and corrupt.
Tbe importance ascribed here to Arab cultural heritage is not
intended to portray the functioning of Arab societies as immutable,
nor to consider them as determined by some irreducible Islamic
essence. On the contrary, it is significant to note that 'riot culture'
has become more important during the last two decades due to the
deterioration of demographic and economic conditions in a number
of Arab countries, and also because of the growing social inequalities
in income and way of life. Above all, it has expressed itself against
authoritarian regimes which pretended to model themselves after the
universal modem state, even if they did not refer openly to secular-
ism. Secular challenges (for instance by Communist parties) have
become marginalized to the benefit of communal and/or religious
challenges. Such an evolution has led authoritarian regimes to set up
communal militias in order to control those segments of the popula-
tion they have excluded from the advantages of power. 27 Aiming at a
strictly security objective (the security of the jam'a in power), they
force society to conform to and mobilize itself according to ethnic
criteria. Tbus, the instrumentalization of ethnicity by the Syrian
regime of Hafez Assad acts against that regime, denounced by its
opponents as being Alawite. It is also the reason for the unyielding
opposition of the Iraqi Kurds to the dictatorial regime of Saddam
Hussein. As for Islam, it is instrumentalized by security-oriented
regimes such as Saudi Arabia in their internal and regional policies.
More generally, the concepts of state and nation rarely coincide. Arab
regimes represent narrow sectional interests and have low levels of
legitimacy. Internal challenges are a continual threat to the security of

the state and regime.
The Arab 'security' state is therefore faced with the dilemma
Michael Hudson has evoked. 28 On one hand, while its room for
manoeuvre has become very narrow due to international financial
requirements, it has also lost an important part of its material
resources; its legitimacy is constantly weakening, as shown by cyclical
riots. But, on the other hand, it has become extremely difficult for it to
enlarge political participation and to democratize life in the country
because its interlocutors in 'civii society' are weak,29 and because of the
existence of a communalism that it helped to strengthen.
Monarchies in the Peninsula as weil as the republics of the Arab East
thus face a growing threat. Some of these countries, such as Saudi
Arabia or Assad's Syria, have reacted by totally closing their political
system, by constantly accentuating the security face of their regime and
by repressing any attempt towards political development. Others, such
as Kuwait or Iraq, openly acknowledge the seriousness of the problem.
But how can they solve it? Since 1988, Iraqi rulers have demonstrated
the vanity of a democracy granted 'from above', granted by the favour
of an authoritarian regime. Despite repeated promises made by
Saddam Hussein hirnself, however well-organized the legislative elec-
tions of April 1989 may have been, and despite promises of reform in
the wake of the 1990-91 Gulf War, Ba'athist leaders have denied
opposition representatives (indeed, any significant segment of Iraqi
civil society) the right of free expression, much less a share in political
decision-making. Saddam Hussein, who publicly boasted of preceding
Eastern European countries on the path of democratic reform, has
been especially efficient at strengthening his hold over Iraqi society.30
Among all eastern Arab countries, Egypt may be the most advanced
along the way to solving the security/development dilemma. It has
agreed to reconsider the external and internal threats it faces. It treats
with relative clemency those having taken part in popular riots (such as
the security force conscripts who rioted in January 1986). Last but not
least, organized actors who address the state with a legal discourse
have emerged from within the civil society. But for the state to accept
such a dialogue based upon the law, is it not necessary for its
foundations to be solid enough and for its choices to be rather
autonomous? Thanks to its rich historical background as weil as to
social and political pluralism, the Egyptian state might overcome the
difficulties. But very few other Arab states indeed benefit from these
important qualities.
CONCLUSION
Wbile security and development bad been linked by a positive

dynamic during tbe first years of the autboritarian developmentalist
states in the Arab world, today tbey often tend to become contra-
dictory. Political development, democratic participation and respect
for individual and civil rights, all require a strict limitation of tbe
security variable within the political system. Altbough current East-
West and regional developments might facilitate sucb a transition, it
would, bowever, also be opposed by powerful financial interests
fearing the political cbanges and consequent economic instability it
might portend.
Moreover - and most important of all - sucb a move is risky on tbe
domestic scene in most Arab countries. In the current context, tbe
margin between effective democratization and social uprising against
state rulers and their vigilant security forces is narrow indeed.
Notes
1. Saadet Deger, 'Tbe United Nations International Conference on the

Relationship between Disarmament and Development,' SIPRI Yearbook
1988: World Armaments and Disarmaments (Oxford University Press,
1988) p. 524.
2. Jamal Ghitani, Zayni Barakat (Cairo: Maktaba Madbuli, 1980) p. 105.
3. Tbeda Skocpol, States and Social Revolutions (Cambridge University
Press, 1979) pp. 19--24.
4. Roger Owen, 'Arab Armies Today', paper presented to the BRISMES
annual conference, Exeter, 1987; and Elizabeth Picard, 'Arab Military in
Politics: From Revolutionary Plot to Authoritarian State', in Adeed
Dawisha and I. William Zartman (eds), Beyond Coercion (London:
Croom Helm, 1987).
5. Ernest Gellner, Muslim Society (Cambridge University Press, 1981) p. 64.
6. Jane's Defence Weekly, I April 1989.
7. James Bruce, 'Sudan Coup: Was Egypt Involved?' Jane's Defence
Weekly, 15 July 1989.
8. International Institute for Strategie Studies, Military Balance 1990-1991
(London: IISS, 1991) pp. 93--118.
9. See Chapter 10 by Yezid Sayigh in this volume.
10. Alain Rouquie, 'Les processus politiques au sein des partis militaires:
definitions et dynamiques,' in Alain Rouquie, La Politique de Mars
(paris: Le Sycomore, 1981) p. 49.
11. Mark Cooper, 'Tbe Demilitarization of the Egyptian Cabinet', Interna-
tional Journal of MiddJe Bast Studies, 14,2 (May 1982) p. 209.
12. al-Sharq a/-Awsat, 7 May 1989.
13. See Chapter 7 by Michel Chatelus in tbis volume.
14. Patrick Clawson, Unajjordahle Ambitions: Syria's Military Build-up and

Economic Crisis, Tbe Washington Institute Policy Papers 7 (1989)
pp. 17-20.
15. Saadet Deger, 'Tbe United Nations International Conference on the
Relationship between Disarmament and Development,' p. 533.
16. Le Monde (paris), 18 March 1990; Jerusalem Post (international edition)
3 March 1990; Finaneial Times, 7 August 1990.
17. See Chapter 10 in this volume; and Roger Owen, 'Arab Armies Today',
p.7.
18. Robert Springborg, 'Tbe President and the Field MarshaI: Civil Military
relations in Egypt Today', Middle East Report 147 (1987) p. 11.
19. A. Y. Zohny, 'Toward an Apolitical Role for the Egyptian Military in the
Management of Development: Assessment of President Sadat's Decision
No. 32, ]anuary 1979', Orient 4 (1987) pp. 548-56.
20. alMustaqbal, 22 April 1989.
21. lose Garcon, 'Algerie, Apres les Erneutes', L'Etat du Monde 1989-1990
(paris: La Decouverte, 1989) pp. 209-13.
22. Robert Springborg, 'Iraqi Infitah: Agrarian Transformation and Growth
of the Private Sector', Middle East Journal, 40, 1 (Winter 1986) p. 44.
23. Philip Robins, 'Middle Bast I: Arabs eye Eastern Europe warily', The
World Today (August-September 1990) pp. 157--60; and Isam al-Khafaji,
'Tbe Arab Left after Glasnost: Who's Afraid of Bureaustroika', Middle
East Report (November-December 1990) pp. 30-4.
24. Michael Hudson, 'Democratization and the Problem of Legitimacy in
Middle Bast Politics', MESA Bulletin, 22, 2 (December 1988) p. 158.
25. Naseer Aruri, 'Disaster Area: Human Rights in the Arab World', Middle
East Report, 149 (November-December 1987) pp. 7-15.
26. Amnesty International, Egypt: Arbitrary Detention and Torture under
Emergency Powers (London: Amnesty Publications, 1989) p. 12.
27. Morris ]anowitz, Military Institutions and Coercion in the Developing
Nations (Chicago University Press, 1977) p. 17.
28. Hudson, 'Democratization and the Problem of Legitimacy in Middle
Bast Politics', p. 160.
29. Rachad Antonius and Qussai Samak, 'A Civil Society at the Pan-Arab
Level? Tbe Role ofNon-Govermental Organizations', in Hani Faris (ed.),
Arab Nationalism and the Future oj the Arab World (Belmont, Mass.:
Association of Arab-American University Graduates, 1987) pp. 81-93.
30. Elizabeth Picard, 'Le regime iraquien et la crise, les ressorts d'une
politique', Maghreb-Machrek 130 (October-November-December 1990)
pp. 25-35.
13 Conclusion: The
Changing Regional
Security Environment
Paul Noble, Rex Brynen and
Bahgat Korany
Security is the most widespread, if not the most basic, concern of states
and societies. Yet the actual form which security threats take, as weil
as their severity, varies considerably from one set of states to another
and from region to region. Students of international politics have
traditionally concentrated almost entirely on external military and
power political problems. As the preceding analyses make clear, these
have indeed been serious concerns for virtually all Arab states.
However, as this study has also demonstrated, Arab states and
societies have faced, and continue to face, a much broader range of
pressures and problems, which pose a threat to core interests and
values. This is as true after the Gulf crisis as before.
ARAB SECURITY BEFORE THE GULF CRISIS: PARADIGM

LOST?
Military and power security
As several contributors to Part One have noted, one striking feature of

the Middle Eastern arena has been the persistence and acuteness of
external military and power pressures. In fact, such problems have
arguably been more severe in the Middle East than in any other Third-
World region.
While security problems of the traditional type have arisen in all
sectors of regional politics, the pressures have been most acute with
regard to non-Arab actors. In the broader Middle East system, Arab
states have found themselves involved in not just one but two intense
conflicts in recent decades. The Arab-Israeli has been the most
protracted, as weil as the most acute, conflict in any regional system
275
276 Conclusion
of developing states, erupting into full-scale warfare five times since

1948 and into limited hostilities on numerous other occasions. The
ensuing military-security concerns of frontline Arab states have been
compounded by the pronounced imbalance ofpower in Israel's favour.
The resulting pressures threatened both the territorial integrity of these
states and the national existence of the Palestinian community. The
situation worsened significantly from the late 1970s onwards, with the
advent of an ultranationalist government in Israel and the conclusion
of aseparate Egyptian-Israeli peace settlement. Egypt's defection from
the Arab coalition created an even greater imbalance in Israel's favour,
leading in turn to increased pressures on the neighbouring Arab
countries. Thus the neutralization of Egypt enabled Israel to engage
in more forceful action against other actors (for example, the
PalestiniansfPLO, Lebanon, Iraq), while encouraging Likud-domi-
nated governments to intensify Israeli claims to, or control over,
occupied Palestinian and Arab territories (the West Bank, Gaza
Strip, Golan Heights and southern Lebanon).
The situation in the Gulf area was initially not as threatening,
although it too was characterized by a noticeable power imbalance.
During the 1970s, however, Iran began to adopt a more assertive
posture in the wake of Britain's withdrawal from the Gulf and a
substantial increase in its own capabilities. After a lull in the mid-
1970s, the situation worsened considerably following the advent of a
revolutionary Islamic regime in Iran. At this point, Iran constituted
primarily an ideological and political threat rather than a military one.
However, the conflict degenerated into a prolonged and bloody war,
the most intense armed conflict among Third-World states in the post-
war period. In the course of this war, Iran re-emerged as a military and
power threat to neighbouring Arab states.
For much of the 1980s, therefore, the states of the Arab world were
involved in two acute conflicts in the larger regional arena and were
faced with mounting pressures on both fronts. The simultaneous
existence of these conflicts created serious security problems for most
members of the Arab system. These problems were exacerbated by two
sets of developments. In the military sphere, the flow of arms to the
Middle East intensified, far exceeding that to any other Third-World
region. I This massive conventional build-up, together with efforts to
develop chemical, biological, and even nuclear, warfare capacity,
raised the prospect of vastly more destructive regional conflicts.
Moreover, the acquisition of longer-range delivery systems threatened
to expand the scope of such conflicts to encompass not only the
Paul Noble. Rex Brynen and Bahgat Korany 277
population centres and economic heartland of the states directly

involved but also states weIl behind the front lines. Israeli strikes
against Iraqi nuclear facilities (1981) as weIl as against the PLO
headquarters in Tunisia (1985) provided a foretaste of such conflict
expansion. In the power-political sphere, the position of Arab states
was weakened by two additional factors. On the one hand, continuing
divisions and fragmentation in the Arab system made it very difficult
to form an efTective alliance vis-a-vis regional opponents, especially
Israel. On the other hand, eroding Arab solidarity led some states and
communities to disregard the boundaries of the Arab system and align
themselves with a non-Arab regional power (for example, Syria with
Iran, Lebanese Christians with Israel, Iraqi Kurds and some Iraqi
Shi'ites witb Iran). In short, tbe larger regional arena constituted a
particularly difficult and threatening environment which genera ted
substantial concern both about military security and about power
relationsbips generally.
For a long time, tbe inter-Arab arena also constituted a very
threatening environment. 2 Here, however, the resulting security
problems were only partly of the traditional type. Generally speak-
ing, miHtary-security concerns have been limited within the Arab
sphere due to substantial constraints on tbe use of large-scale
conventional force in inter-Arab relations. For a long time, most
Arab states had Httle ability to project military power beyond their
borders. Even Egypt, the strongest Arab military power, had only a
limited ability to employ force against otber members of the system,
principally because of tbe absence of land links between itself and the
Arab states of West Asia. Even when tbe capabilities of some Arab
states grew substantially, tbere remained important extra-systemic
constraints on tbe use of force. Tbe most compelling was the like-
lihood of Israeli military action in tbe event of the use of armed force
against states in its immediate vicinity. Even apparent exceptions to
this pattern, for example, Syria's limited use of force in Jordan (1970)
or in Lebanon (1976 onwards) tend to prove the rule, since they were
eitber restricted through threats of Israeli intervention (Jordan) or else
cleared witb Israel (througb tbe Uni ted States, in the case of
Lebanon). Tbere was also a serious risk of actionby the Western
powers in response to military pressure against key Arab allies. For
these reasons, conventional military operations were unlikely except in
the periphery of the system, such as North Africa (for example, tbe
Algerian-Moroccan conflict or the Egyptian-Libyan fron tier man-
oeuvres) and tbe hinterlands of the Arabian Peninsula (for example,
278 Conclusion
the North Yemen-8outh Yemen conflict, or South Yemen's frontiers

with Oman and Saudi Arabia).
While military pressures have been limited in the inter-Arab arena,
power imbalances have been a frequent concern. During the 1950s and
1960s, a pronounced imbalance of power developed between Egypt
and other members of the system, both with regard to military
capabilities and softer political capabilities (that is, the attractiveness
of a country's leadership and policies co~bined with relative internal
cohesiveness and stability). Tbis imbalance generated extensive revi-
sionism on Egypt's part, which threatened a wide range of basic
interests of other system members. As we will see, however, the threat
was essentially political and ideological rather than military in
character. By the 1970s and 1980s, capabilities and influence were
distributed more evenly as the military and/or economic position of
several states improved substantially, while Egypt's position weakened.
Tbis new, more competitive multi-power structure helped to limit
revisionism and in general created a less threatening environment.
Intra-system security concerns eased accordingly, at least until the
development of a serious new imbalance in the Gutf area in the wake
of Iraq's victory over Iran in 1988.
Tbe involvement and activities of the major powers in the region
have also contributed to Arab security problems. In recent decades, the
level of superpower political-military involvement has been higher in
the Middle East than in any other Third-World region. Tbis extensive
presence and the accompanying rivalry raised periodic fears of super-
power clashes (for example, during the October war and after the
Soviet invasion of Afghanistan) but concern about the potential
escalation of such conflicts induced caution on the part of the
powers. Tbe more prevalent concern was a possible superpower resort
to strong pressure or even forceful action against a regional state. Tbe
danger of such action was greatest in the" case of the United States,
given not only the intensity of its interest in the region but also its
superior capacity to employ force there (for example, Lebanon 1982-
83, Libya 1986, the military presence in the Gulf 1987-88, the
establishment of the Rapid Deployment Force/CENTCOM).
Tbe heavy major-power involvement in the region was also reflected
in an extremely high level of arms transfers, which heightened security
concerns by encouraging competitive arms build-upsand increasing
the potential destructiveness of any armed conflicts. Arab security
concerns in this regard were intensified by the United States' apparent
determination to ensure Israeli military superiority over the frontline
Paul Noble, Rex Brynen and Bahgat Korany 279
Arab states. While the extensive superpower involvement in the region

exacerbated security problems in some respects, it eased them in
others. In particular, the elose ties between the superpowers and
various regional states served to deter or to limit forceful actions by
parties to regional conflicts for fear of involving the opposing super-
power. Superpower commitments thus encouraged some caution and
restraint in the military sphere.
Political security
Although external military and power threats have been a major

source of insecurity in the Arab world, Arab states have been
confronted with a broad range of other security concerns, both
extern al and internal. In fact, for most Arab states and regimes, the
most persistent and pressing threat has been in the area of political
security.
In speaking of political security it is important to recognize that, for
the most part, it is often the security of tenure of existing political elites
that is at stake, rather than the existence of the state or the weH-being
of society as a whole. As noted in Part Three, the requirements of
'state' or 'national' security have often been invoked to justify the
repression of aH internal dissidence in Arab states. Despite this, the
contributions to this volume have also underscored the extreme
practical difficulty of separating out 'regime' security from 'state' or
national security. The extension of security issues into the develop-
mental sphere further complicates any demarcation between them. The
collapse of regimes may weH lead to the potential coHapse of the state
(as the Lebanese case has amply demonstrated). Internal conflict and
instability weaken astate in the international arena, undermining the
effectiveness of its foreign policy. Internal cleavages and instability
also make states vulnerable to outside intervention, penetration or
further destabilization efforts. All of this contributes to power
imbalances and/or encourages assertiveness by others. It has also led
to more assertive behaviour by the state affected (for example,
externalization of conflict, wars of 'vulnerability'), creating security
problems for others. Finally, it is the politicalleaderships of 'regimes',
not the abstract entity of the state, that make national security
decisions. Those decisions necessarily will inelude both enduring
elements (such as territorial integrity, political independence and
regional power) and more immediate ones dictated by the imperative
of political survival.
280 Conc1usion
Transnational pressures. All Third-World states suffer in varying

degrees from internal political insecurity. What has made the Arab
world distinctive, however, has been the severity of the external/
transnational threats to the political security of its states and regimes.
For much of its history, the Arab state system has been characterized
by acute political warfare accompanied by transnational political
mobilization, penetration and intervention. 3 Tbe prevalence of this
type of pressure has been due in large part to historical patterns of
Arab state formation, the substantial level of linguistic, cultural and
religious homogeneity among Arab elites and peoples, and the
consequent sense of kinship and even common identity among
significant segments of the population of these states. Tbe ensuing
permeability has taken several forms: the intense circulation and
resonance not merely of information but also of currents of opinion
and ideologies; the preoccupation of populations and elites with
certain Arab core issues, notably resistanee to pressures or domina-
tion from non-Arab powers; the development among Arab popula-
tions of a strong identification with, and responsiveness to, leaders
and political movements in other Arab states; the development of
numerous cross-frontier alliances between individuals or groups in
one Arab state and movements or leaders in another.
In short, for a considerable period the Arab system resembled not so
much a collection of discrete 'billiard balls' but rather a group of
porous organisms of varying degrees of permeability. Tbis gave rise to
a transnational political process involving not only governments but
also groups as weIl as individuals throughout the system. As a result,
Arab states/societies were highly susceptible to transnational appeals.
Not all such appeals have been purposive, of course; events in the
region have reverberated independently of the intentions of political
elites. But in many cases states have experienced the deliberate
activation of cross-fron tier alliances and movements or external
penetration and manipulation of their internal politics. Tbe aim of
such political warfare was to delegitimize, destabilize and ultimately
overthrow opposing regimes; to reshape the basic orientation and
policy direction of states; and frequently to undermine their political
autonomy. For a few Arab governments (notably that of Egypt's
Gamal Abd al-Nasser) these conditions provided an excellent oppor-
tunity to extend their influence, but for most they constituted a source
of severe pressure and intense insecurity.
The permeability of Arab states and the accompanying external
threats to their political security were at their height in the 1950s and
1960s. Subsequently, the Arab state system experienced a decline in

permeability. This hardening of the Arab state was due in part to a
reduction in the intensity of identification with the larger Arab
community. This reflected not only the inevitable letdown after the
exaggerated expectations raised by pan-Arab rhetoric, but also
disillusionment over the failure of policies pursued in its name. 4
Moreover, Arab populations seemed increasingly preoccupied with
the problems, both domestic and foreign, of their own societies as weIl
as with communal or class concerns. The cumulative efTects of state-
building, which made the individual state-unit the focus of popular
expectations, together with efTorts by Arab regimes to better insulate
their political systems from external influences, also contributed to the
hardening of Arab states. This was carried out through tight control
over the media, prevention of mass demonstrations and increased
internal security capabilities generally.
One result of these developments was a diminishing responsiveness
to Arab core concerns. The change in political climate was reflected in
the lack of any strong reaction within Arab countries to the Israeli
invasion of Lebanon (1982), the US attack on Libya (1986) or the
ongoing Palestinian intifada (1987 onwards). While Arab regimes acted
to limit local responses to these developments in order to restrict
possible pressures for action, it is also clear that the intensity of
popular concern for larger Arab causes had declined. More specifi-
caIly, the populations of the Arab world appeared less disposed to
identify with politicalleaders in other Arab states and much less likely
to respond to cross-fron tier appeals. The Arab public had become at
least partially immunized to previous slogans and rallying cries due to
the failure of the accompanying policies. Earlier transnational move-
ments based on pan-Arab nationalism had either weakened, fragmen-
ted, or disappeared outright. In short, not only the automatie spillover
efTect of events but also the potential for cross-frontier mobilization
appeared to have declined significantly. Arab regimes were now in a
better position to insulate their political systems from inter-Arab
pressures and thus reduce their vulnerability and insecurity.S
While state permeability may have declined within the Arab arena in
recent decades, the vulnerability to transnational political threats
increased within the larger regional system from the late 1970s
onwards. The source of the problem was twofold. On the one hand,
minority communities within certain Arab states began to develop or
to strengthen ties with neighbouring non-Arab powers to reinforce
their position and, if necessary, to assert their independence. This was
282 Conclusion
notably the case between Lebanese Christians and Israel, as weIl as

between Iraqi Kurds/Shi'ites and Iran. On the other hand, the
emergence in Iran of a revolutionary Islamic regime posed a more
fundamental challenge to the political security of Arab regimes. At one
level, given the rising Islamic consciousness, Arab states seemed
particularly vulnerable to transnational appeals based on a revolu-
tionary Islamic message. At another level, the Shi'i character of the
Iranian revolution was clearly attractive to Shi'i communities through-
out the Arab world. In either case, there was considerable scope to
play on religious or sectarian affinities.
In practice, the overall impact of Iran's Islamic regime in the Arab
world tended to be limited by its Iranian and Shi'i origins, as weIl as by
its increasing external and domestic difficulties. However, it was still
able to generate considerable responsiveness and to pose a significant
threat to ruling elites, especially in countries with a substantial Shi'i
presence (for example, Lebanon, Iraq, Bahrain, Kuwait and Saudi
Arabia). In any case, new sets of cross-frontier alliances and new bases
of transnational mobilization and responsiveness replaced inter-Arab
pressures as the principal form of external political threat.
In the 1970s and 1980s, Arab states also became increasingly
vulnerable to penetration by external powers as their military and
economic needs, and consequently their dependence, grew substan-
tially. This deepening dependence led in turn to more extensive ties
between these powers and officials in sensitive sectors of the state
apparatus (for example, the military and security services) as weIl as
key sectors of the economy and society. These transnational linkages
differed from those at the regional level in that they consisted largely
of ongoing direct relationships between officials and elites of two
states rather than broad-based popular appeals or cross-frontier
alliances with communities/groups. In other words, it was a question
of political penetration rather than transnational mobilization. Never-
theless, such links still generated security concerns due to the fear -
more frequently expressed by opposition groups than governments -
that key officials would be unduly influenced by foreign governments
and views. 6
In short, while the overall severity of external political threats
declined, and the sources of threat shifted, in the 1970s and 1980s,
Arab states remained subject to a variety of transnational political
pressures. That sensitivity was, of course, intimately and inextricably
tied to the domestic political structures and dynamics of Arab states
themselves.
Domestic vulnerabilities. While societal sensitivity to transnational

political influences was primarily a product of the historical process
of state formation in the Arab world (and the consequent salience of
both sub- and supra-state political loyalties), the vulnerability of
particular regimes to the political effects of transnational 'subversion'
was fundamentally a product of their own internal social tensions,
ideological cleavages and persistent political instability. In the after-
math of independence, Arab states were generally characterized by
problems of national integration, low levels of political institutiona-
lization, sharpening class contradictions, and a struggle for political,
economic and social power among established and emergent elites - in
short, the classic political correlates of post-colonial underdevelop-
ment. Through the 1950s and I 960s, this duly expressed itself in
recurrent domestic political turmoil, including revolution in Egypt
(1952) and Iraq (1958); military coups and quasi-coups in Syria (in
1949 (3 times), 1951, 1954, 1961, 1962, 1963, 1966 and 1970), as weIl
as in Iraq, North Yemen, South Yemen, Sudan, Libya and Algeria;
and civil war in Sudan (1955-72 and 1983- ), Lebanon (1958 and
1975- ), North Yemen (1962-70), and Jordan (1970).
Over time, however, an increasing degree of internal political
stability appeared to be developing within most Arab states. Such
stability derived from a number of sources: the development of
daunting internat security apparatuses; neopatrimonialism; astute
political leadership; and pervasive control of political discourse. 7
Among the oil rich, growing petrodollar funds allowed regimes, in
part at least, to 'purehase' political loyalty or acquiescence from
subject populations through the state provision of social services and
economic supports. 8 Indirect oil-related rents (for example, economic
aid and workers' remittances) allowed some poorer regimes to do a
little of the same, or to finance the expansion of their coercive
apparatus. Regime consolidation was also aided by the fragmentation
and informal character of social forces in many Arab societies, which
tended to inhibit the development of the formal structures of civil
society. Whatever the reasons, as Arab political systems entered the
1980s there could be little doubt that they were, by the simple measure
of regime longevity, more stable than at any other period since the
achievement of political independence. This success, of course, came at
a heavy cost, both in terms of the distortions of neopatrimonial politics
and the suppression of political and human rights. 9 At the same time it
lent the state and regime an air of permanence, further discouraging
direct and violent challenges from opposition forces, and creating
284 Conclusion
conditions of order under which greater state-building and regime

consolidation might take place. 10
Greater political stabilit)" however, generally did not imply greater
regime legitimac)'. Indeed, to the extent that repression and neopa-
trimonialism were essential to the maintenllnce of power and political
order, they tended to inhibit the development of a lasting legitimacy
based on institutions, performance and popular participation.
In many Arab republics, this effect was further compounded by the
increasing failures of state-led development policies. An increasing gap
appeared between the rhetoric of Arab socialism and the ability of
nationalist regimes to deliver the promised goods. One response to this
was a major reversal of policy and the adoption of economic opening
(infitah) and market liberalization. This in itself could create new
problems, however: aggravated income inequalities; urban inflation;
trade imbalances; and growing cultural alienation, stemming from
dependence and an inrush of Western consumerism.
In many cases political legitimacy was also undermined by the
narrowing social base of the regimes themselves. Parties and mass
organi7.ations generally remained as corporatist entities tied to the
state but ultimately exclusive of mass participation in decision-making.
Hence they had only limited success in mobilizing any substantial
degree of popular support. Faced with internal and external chal-
lenges, some political leaders turned to 'loyal' regional or sectarian
constituencies - or even simple nepotism - to solidify their regimes, as
witnessed by Hafez Assad's growing dependence on Alawi co-religio-
nists in Syria, Saddam Hussein's favouritism towards those from bis
home region of Takrit, or the continued dominance of royal families
and political tribalism in the Gulf. 11
By the 1980s, a new threat to the internal security of ruling regimes
appeared on the horizon, in the form of the growing strength of
activist Islamic opposition groupS.12 As already noted, the Islamic
revival in the Middle East was spurred in part by the 1979 Islamic
Revolution in Iran. More so, however, Islamic activism appeared to be
a parallel but distinct assertion of segments of civil society, fuelled by
the kinds of domestic tension and contradiction outlined above:
political exclusion, economic deprivation, and the alienation engen-
dered by socio-economic change and dependence on the West. Among
the conservative Gulf states, economic resources and Islamic symbo-
lism were deployed in an effort to blunt the threat. 13 Where this failed,
or in those poorer Arab states wherein underlying socio-economic
contradictions were all the more acute, repression and military force
were also used. In Saudi Arabia, force was necessary to recapture the
main mosque in Mecca from Islamist insurgents in 1979; in Iraq, the
Ba'athist government was embroiled in a bitter exchange of attacks
and repression with underground Islamic groups; in Egypt, Anwar
Sadat's government launched a massive roundup of political oppo-
nents in 1981 (an act that led directly to his assassination by the
Islamic Jihad in October of that year); in Syria, the government
brutally suppressed a 1982 uprising in Hama (at a cost of perhaps
10000 casualties); in Kuwait, a wave of arrests and deportations (and
the suspension of the Kuwaiti parliament) followed a 1985 assassina-
tion attempt against the emir; growing Islamic activism was also
evident elsewhere in the Gulf; and in the Maghreb, Islamic groups
seemed to be on the rise in Tunisia, Aigeria and Morocco. 14
Economic security
Economic challenges have also figured prominently alongside military

and political issues in the security concerns of Arab states. The security
dimension of economic development stems in part from the relation-
ship between the size and technological level of a country's economy
and the extent of its political and military power. 1S Moreover, as Yezid
Sayigh has argued, certain types of industrialization may be driven by
the need to satisfy immediate military requirements. Above and
beyond this, as Part Two of this volume demonstrated, economic
underdevelopment comprises a broader source of international weak-
ness, dependence and vulnerability. The achievement ofhigher levels of
economic development or greater degrees of economic self-sufficiency
may therefore be seen as a strategie imperative. 16 Finally, as the
preceding discussion suggested, economic development is a key factor
shaping domestic political stability.
All these components have been evident in the considerable atten-
tion given to economic security issues in the Middle East throughout
the modern era. During the period of colonial encroachment, the
external threat posed by European powers provided the major
rationale for the late-nineteenth-century modernization programmes
initiated by both the Ottoman empire and by Mohammed Ali of
Egypt. Much later, in the aftermath of liberation from colonial rule,
economic security issues once more came to the fore. Through the
1950s and 1960s, the growth of radical Arab nationalism was in large
part spurred by the perceived need to break the bonds of dependency
and achieve a socio-economic transformation of Arab society. The
286 Conclusion
Suez War of 1956 underlined the importance of economic security

issues, having been precipitated by United States and British failure to
fund construction of the Aswan High Dam and by Egypt's nationa-
lization of the Suez Canal in response. Tbroughout the region,
economic weakness was seen as a major constraint on state power in
a threatening regional environment, especially in the face of the
challenge posed by Israel and outside powers (first Britain and
France, later the United States and, to a lesser extent, the Soviet
Union). Overcoming economic underdevelopment was also seen as a
domestic imperative in its own right, essential to socio-economic
progress as weIl as to political stability through state-building and
regime consolidation.
Later, the oil booms of 1973-74 and 1979-80 reshaped regional
economic conditions. As the price of oil increased from less than
USS4/barrel (1973) to almost USSI2/barrel (1974) to USS34/barrel
(1981), major oil producers found them~lves with massive capital
surpluses available, for either consumption or investment. Tbe oil-
poor, meanwhile, also benefited from labour exports to the Gulf and
expanded flows of inter-Arab financial aid. Tbe strategie power
provided by petroleum resources seemed to be underlined by the
Arab oil embargo during the 1973 Arab-Israeli war. Tbe importance
of those same resources to social and political development was
equally evident in the grandiose development plans now adopted by
the oil rich, and by the political and economic importance of indirect
oil-related rents to the oil-poor. The oil boom, while ameliorating
some economic and political insecurities (as well as fuelling a massive
Arab arms build-up), did not eliminate all of them. On the contrary,
some old economic challenges remained, while new ones (including
tensions stemming from the growing economic disparities between the
Arab rich and poor) were created. 17
Some of these threats to Arab economic security have derived from
external sources. Arab countries remain highly dependent on the
global economy, and particularly the West, for export markets and
for imports of foodstufTs, manufactures and capital goods. Such
dependence has heightened their vulnerability to external economic
shocks. With oil revenues accounting for over 90 per cent of export
earnings and equal to more than half of GDP, countries such as Saudi
Arabia or the UAE are deeply afTected by fluctuations in either oil
prices or the US dollars in which oil sales are denominated. Indeed, as
the oil market partially collapsed in the mid-1980s (to less than USSI4/
barrel in 1986), the seven Arab members of OPEC (Algeria, Iraq,
Kuwait, Libya, Qatar, Saudi Arabia and the UAE) collectively lost
some USS3-7 billion per year in revenues for each USSI decline in the
price of oil. 18
As Michel Chatelus noted earlier, the effects of such fluctuations
have generally been feIt most acutely not by countries such as Saudi
Arabia, Kuwait or the UAE - which are cush~oned by small
populations, and large financial reserves or overseas investments -
but by the labour exporting countries, which from the mid-1980s
suffered from an increasingly serious decline in remittance eamings
and petrodollar foreign aid receipts as a consequence of the decline in
world oil prices. In some cases this was further compounded by a
decline in the volume or value of their own non-oil exports, such as
phosphate sales (in the case of Jordan and Morocco) or agricultural
exports (threatened, in the case of Maghreb countries, by changes
within the European Community). By the latter half of the 1980s a
growing Arab debt crisis both reflected and aggravated the problem,
with the combined external indebtedness of the major Arab debtors
(Egypt, Morocco, Aigeria, Sudan, Tunisia and Jordan) increasing
from around US$4.3 billion in 1970 to some USSI03 billion by 1988. 19
External threats to Arab economic security have been compounded
by internal problems, notably the costs associated with import-
substitution policies (price distortions, low competitiveness), coupled
with the failures of public-sector-Ied growth (economic mismanage-
ment, patronage, corruption and bureaucratization). Such policies
have - whatever their initial or other successes - served to saP long-
term growth, increase borrowing requirements from abroad, and drain
government resources. 20 Subsidies on basic consumer goods, intended
to ameliorate the economic pressures on the urban and rural poor,
have also often represented another major drain on state resources. In
a few cases (for example, Lebanon, Sudan, South Yemen and Iraq),
economic development was further compromised by the heavy costs of
civil or international conflict.21
Tbe conjunction of economic pressures from the global economy,
combined with internal structural weaknesses and political pressures
from certain social forces, forced many Arab debtors to rethink their
development strategies. Faced with the tripIe challenge of debt
servicing, balance of payments problems, and growing government
budget deficits - not to mention the pressures exerted by the
International Monetary Fund and other international financial institu-
tions - oil-poor countries were increasingly forced to adopt austerity
measures. For both economic and political reasons, some countries
288 Conclusion
with large public sectors went beyond this, to adopt programmes of

economic opening (infitah), privatization, and economic restructuring.
Such policies were first adopted (with differing degrees of success) by
Egypt and Tunisia in the 1970s; subsequently, they found at least
partial application in Jordan, Iraq, Syria and Algeria. As al ready
argued, such economic adjustments frequently involved a complex and
dangerous political balancing act, as 'austerity riots' in Egypt (1977),
Sudan (1979, 1982), Morocco (1981, 1984), Tunisia (1984), Algeria
(1988) and Jordan (1989) clearly demonstrated. Indeed, in some cases,
economic crisis appeared to be an important catalyst for a gradual
(Egypt) or more rapid (Algeria, Jordan) opening up of the political
system, as regimes found themselves forced to grant some degree of
political liberalization as a quid pro quo for popular acceptance of
economic restructuring and retrenchment. 22 Yet the very magnitude of
the reorientations being adopted or considered - a partial reversal of
statist development programmes in countries such as Iraq and Syria,
open parliamentary elections in Jordan and Algeria, or the unification
of South and North Yemen following the virtual economic and
political collapse of the former - underscored the seriousness of
challenges confronting existing political elites.
Finally - and potentially most seriously of all- a very different sort
of economic security threat was posed increasingly by the decreasing
availability of a fundamentally essential resource: water. As noted in
the introduction to this volume, industrialization, irrigation and
population growth placed increasingly heavy strains on Arab water
resources. In the Maghreb, desertification became an increasing
problem. In the Mashreq, water shortages heightened tensions be-
tween riparian states along the three major regional surface water
systems (the Nile, the Jordan and the Tigris-Euphrates).23
THE GULF CRISIS AND ARAB SECURITY: PARADIGM

REGAINED?
By the late 1980s, economic and internal security issues had assumed
an increasingly important place on the national security agendas of
Arab states. This, coupled with the termination of the Iran-Iraq war
(1988), the easing of inter-Arab conflicts, and the demise of the Cold
War, cast doubt on the utility of the realist paradigm.
Equally, however, Iraq's August 1990 invasion of Kuwait, and the
subsequent Gulf War, seemed once more to underscore the overriding
importance of military and power-political concerns - in short, the

continued validity of the traditional view. Upon closer examination,
however, the whole episode - its origins, dynamics and repercussions -
actually demonstrated the multidimensional character of the Arab
security dilemma.
Military and power security
In recent decades the larger regional arena had become the focal point
of traditional-style security concerns. By mid-1990 the Arab sphere was
developing into an even more threatening environment. One crucial
element he re was the pronounced imbalance of power that had
emerged in the Gulf region due to the rapid build-up of Iraqi military
capabilities and the serious weakening of Iran, the traditional counter-
weight. This was a major contributory factor in Iraq's iocreasingly
aggressive policy, which soon fouod expression in the invasion of
Kuwait.
Two features of this move generated profound concern in much of
the eastern Arab world. One was the massive use of armed force by
one Arab state against another, the first time that force had been used
on such a scale within the Arab system. The other was the highly
revisionist eharaeter of Iraqi poliey, whieh was apparently attempting
not only to annex another Arab state by force but also to reshape
radically the pattern of power in the area. In effeet, Saddam Husseio
was perceived to be positioning Iraq to intimidate and eontrol Saudi
Arabia and the other Gulf states with the view ultimately to aehieve a
hegemonie position in the eastern Arab world. Iraqi aetions thus
genera ted aeute security problems within the Arab arena.
The vietory of the US-led coalition eliminated the most urgent of
these concerns. Iraq's overwhelming defeat ended, for the time being at
least, the dangerous imbalanee of power among Arab Gulf states. The
resulting, more balanced multi-power strueture should help deter any
further extensive revisionism, especially forceful revisionism, in the
Arab arena. Nevertheless, the Iraqi invasion made the Arab Gulf states
aeutely aware of their own vulnerability. Although their immediate
eoncerns have eased, these states will be preoccupied for some time
with building up their military capabilities and eoncIuding arrange-
ments not only with the US and Western powers but also with other
Arab states.
In spite of these developments, uncertaioty remains, due to the
tenuousoess of the overall regional balance. 24 One aspect of this is the
290 Conclusion
lack of consistency in the capability profiles of the leading Arab

powers. Tbose with relatively strong military capabilities (Egypt and
Syria) have weak economies, while the one leading actor with
significant financial strength (Saudi Arabia) possesses only modest
military capabilities. Tbus none is likely to develop a strong diversified
power base that would maximize the effectiveness of its balancing
activities. Hence the current multi-power structure represents more a
balance of weakness than a balance of power.
The emerging balance is also characterized to a significant degree by
the regionalization of power and subregional imbalances. In the short
run, the virtual sidelining of Iraq will make it easier for other leading
Arab states to consolidate subregional spheres of influence (for
example, Syria vis-a-vis Lebanon and possibly Jordan and the PLO;
Saudi Arabia in the Arabian Peninsula). Such regionalizing tendencies
could expose weaker Arab states to pressures from their more powerful
neighbours. Adding to the tenuousness of the new balance is the
uncertainty surrounding Iraq's position. Severely weakened at pre-
sent, it will require a decade or more to rebuild its economic and
military capabilities. As Iraq regains its strength, however, the balance
will be in jeopardy once again since it is the only Arab power with a
potentially diversified power base (for example, military strength,
economic resources and technological capacity, as well as a respect-
able demographie base). Failure to develop or maintain proposed
Arab security arrangements in the Gulf would make matters worse.
In the absence of an Arab counterweight, the Gulf states would have
to rely on Western, and possibly Iranian, assistance once again. In
spite of the defeat of the Iraqi challenge, therefore, there remains
considerable uncertainty and potential for renewed insecurity within
the Arab arena.
While immediate security concerns may have eased within the Arab
sphere since the GulfWar, in the larger regional arena Arab states face
renewed power-political and military pressures. Many of these
pressures antedate the Iraqi invasion. However, the Gulf conflict
weakened the Arab position and thus intensified insecurity in two
key areas. On the eastern front, Iraq's overwhelming defeat, including
the destruction of much of its economic infrastructure and military
capability, eliminated one imbalance of power (that among the Gulf
states) but threatened to create another, this time in Iran's favour. Tbe
situation is exacerbated by serious internal fragmentation within Iraq
and a substantial Shi'ite presence in the northern Arab Gulf states.
Iran could be tempted to take advantage of these opportunities and
pursue a strongly revisionist poliey once again. However, given the

eeonomie eonditions and politieal dynamies withiri Iran and the
ensuing desire to improve relations within the West, the Islamie
Republie is more likely to pursue a moderate and cautious poliey in
the Gulf region. Even if Iranian poliey did resume arevisionist thrust,
it is unlikely to resort to forceful initiatives in the Gulf due to the
demonstrated US eommitment to the eonservative oil-produeing
states. It would probably limit itself instead to less extreme forms of
pressure.
Whatever poliey Iran adopts, the prospeet of an imbalance of power
in its favour so soon after two destruetive wars in the Gulf undoubt-
edly generates genuine seeurity eoncerns among neighbouring Arab
states. The antieipated arms build-ups and projeeted Arab security
arrangements in the Gulf are presumably intended therefore to balance
Iran almost as mueh as Iraq. However, in the case of Iran, the security
strategy seems designed to establish an Ara1>-Iranian balance of power
while at the same time reducing security concerns from that quarter by
encouraging moderation in its policies and faeilitating the resumption
of its role as a eounterweight to Iraq.
On the Israeli front, the situation appears more ehallenging than
ever, in so far as the erisis has led to a further weakening of the Arab
position. In the military sphere, the disparity in power has inereased.
Israel eontinues to maintain a decisive superiority in eonventional
strength over the frontline states or any other likely' eombination of
states. This is reinforced by its monopoly of nuc1ear weaponry, a
superior long-range delivery capacity for all types of weaponry, and a
c1ear advantage in intelligence-gathering teehnology. The erisis ex-
acerbated the imbalanee by severely weakening Iraq's military cap-
abilities, in partieular eliminating for some time its nuc1ear, biological
and ehemical weaponry as weIl as most of its long-range delivery
capacity. In this way, a potential deterrent to large-seale Israeli
military action in the area was removed. Deelining Soviet military
support for Syria has also widened the eapabilities gap and reduced the
eonstraints on Israeli military aetivity.
In terms of overall power-politieal position, the situation is more
eomplex but still very mueh to Israel's advantage. The erisis resulted in
a eonsiderable weakening ofthe PLO and Palestinian eommunity. This
stemmed, among other things, from a substantial loss of political and
financial support in the Arab world, the declining intensity of the
intifada due to internal hardships and fatigue, inereased Israeli
repression, and finally inereased opposition to the PLO on the part
292 Conclusion
of the US and the Israeli publie. The PLO has also sufTered from
declining Soviet political support. On the other hand, Israel's political
position improved on balance as a result of the eollapse of the Soviet
Union, combined with eontinuing Ameriean material and politieal
support (despite the erosion of its status as a strategie asset). In
addition, Israel's demographie position has been strengthened signifi-
cantly through Soviet Jewish emigration.
While these power shifts have been in progress, Israel's ultranation-
alist government remained as revisionist and uneompromising as ever.
Indeed, eapitalizing on its improved position, or more accurately the
weakening of its opponents, it sought in the wake of the erisis to
intensify both its expansion into the oeeupied territories and its
eampaign to eradicate the foundations of a Palestinian national
eommunity. From mid-1992, Israel's subsequent Labor government
promised greater flexibility. Yet the power imbalance remains, and
may be reinforced by a significant improvement in US-Iraeli relations.
Faced with uncertainty on the eastern front as weIl as challenges on the
western front, the Arab world is clearly in a diffieult situation.
The profound transformation of major power relationships in the
early 1990s has also had an important impact on security eonditions in
the Arab world. 2s While these ehanges were under way before the Iraqi
invasion, the latter served to accelerate a.nd intensify them. At first
glance the new pattern of intrusive power relations appears to improve
the Arab seeurity environment. The ending of the intense superpower
rivalry will undoubtedly limit the threat to regional states from this
quarter. Aeeommodation and detente seem likely to reduee the
temptation for external powers to support regional revisionism/
adventurism and eould result in parallel or joint efTorts to exert
restraint on those involved in regional eonfliets. This tendeney may
very weIl be reinforced by co operation among the powers to limit arms
transfers to the region, partieularly the most destruetive weaponry and
some long-range delivery systems. It eould even lead to joint efTorts to
resolve more aeute regional eonfliets, as in other regions. Any of these
eould ease concerns in the Arab world about military seeurity, if not
about other types of power threat.
Upon closer examination, however, the security situation appears
more problematie. Mohammed Ayoob has argued that the linkage
between superpower security and that of Third-World states was never
very strong, even though there was some interest in preventing the
opposing power and its elients from making significant gains. Accord-
ing to Janice Stein, with the end of the Cold War there is even less
reason for the major powers to respond to regional revisionism. The

new era, in short, may lead to reduced commitments and this, in turn,
could encourage challenges to the status quo by powerful regional
states. This appears to have constituted an important element in
Saddam Hussein's calculations in invading Kuwait. Arguably, the
overwhelming US reaction to the invasion, in spite of the absence of
any commitment, and the disastrous outcome for Iraq, will deter any
further forceful revisionist behaviour in the area. One must be cautious
about jumping to general conc1usions from this case, however. US
responses to regional revisionism are likely to be strong only where it
has major interests and these are seriously threatened - either
economic interests (major oil producers), political interests (in key
allies or the regional balance), or a mixture of domestic and regional
political interests (Israel). Otherwise its response is likely to be much
more limited.
It should also be realized that superpower detente has produced not
joint disengagement or reduction of commitment but rather one-sided
(Soviet) disengagement. The result is a situation of one-power (US)
dominance. Thus there would be no real counterweight or deterrent
effect should the US or one of its regional allies become revisionist
itself and exert strong pressures on regional opponents. There would
be no deterrent either to a forceful US response to some instance of
revisionism by a regional state (for example, Iraq). Finally, any
limitations on arms transfers might simply freeze existing regional
imbalances. This would still permit resort to strong pressures or even
the Use of force by states which enjoyed a decided local advantage.
Overall, what emerges is a picture of differentiated security conditions
in the Arab world. The transformation of superpower relationships
may ease military and power security concerns in the short to medium
term for those Arab states that are c10sely associated with the US and
hence can count on its support and protection. Opponents of the US
and its regional allies (or actors considered of little importance) will
find themselves in a more vulnerable position, especially where they
are the weaker party in local (im)balances.
Political security
Although attention to military and power factors seemed paramount

during the Gulf conflict, the crisis was also remarkable in the extent to
which it saw a renewal of transnational political threats and intensified
concerns about internal security. Saddam Hussein sought to capitalize
294 Conclusion
on widespread discontent with the regional order - regional disparities;

the apparently dominant position of the United States and its lack of
receptivity to Arab concerns; Israeli intransigence; and the eontinuing
Palestinian question - to mobilize significant publie support in the
Arab world. Outside the Gulf (and Egypt) bis attaeks against the
legacies of past eolonialism (that is, contemporary state borders) and
contemporary imperialism (the deployment ofWestern troops on Arab
soil, in the land of the two holy shrines) met with significant success: in
Jordan, thousands volunteered to provide aid or fight alongside Iraq;
Moroccans held their largest demonstration in bistory in January 1991
as 300 000 marehed in support; and in Yemen, Sudan, Tunisia, Aigeria
and among Palestinians in the occupied territories similar publie
attitudes were predominant. The weakly and only partially eon-
strueted bamers of the Arab state system seemed to eollapse amidst
an apparent return to the regional ideologieal ferment that had
eharaeterized Arab polities in the 1950s and 1960s. Governments -
even those that had traditionally close ties to Kuwait, Saudi Arabia
and the West - were forced to accommodate themselves to this,
especially those (Jordan, Aigeria, Tunisia and Yemen) where recent
political liberalization provided society with a more powerful and less
constrained politieal voice.
Indeed, eoncerns over political security - and in partieular fears of
destabilizing repercussions of a successfui Iraqi move - represented
part of the reason for the scope of eoalition response to the invasion of
Kuwait. This was partieularly elear in the closing stages of the ground
war in late February 1991, when the destruetion of Iraq's remaining
military capacities seemed motivated not only by military-strategie
requirements but also by adesire to humiliate the Iraqi leader, weaken
his domestie position, and undercut bis popular appeal in the region.
In the wake of the confliet, transnationalism seems to have waned
signifieantly, with some of those that supported the Iraqi leader
partially discredited by the scope of his failure. U1timately, however,
the erisis did nothing to address those aspects of the regional order (for
example, regional disparities, US predominance, the Palestine ques-
tion) that so many Arabs found unsatisfaetory; if anything, it signalied
the powerful position of the oil-rieh, of the US and of Israel in the
region. Many of the issues and forces aetivated during the erisis remain
beneath the surface, possibly to reappear at another time. As a result
(and despite publie quietism in the immediate aftermath of the eonfliet)
the speetre of mass (re)mobilization haunts a number of Arab regimes,
increasing their level of political security concern.
Moreover, with the failure of Iraq's regional challenge one effect of

the crisis may be to refocus political energies within individual
countries. Given the degree to which the conflict underscored the
extent - and costs - of popular exclusion from decision-making, one
form that renewed pressures might take is growing demands for
greater political accountability and participation. Already, something
of this can be seen in opposition demands for areturn to parliamen-
tary constitutionalism in Kuwait; in calls by Saudi religious scholars
and liberals alike for great political participation; and (in a rather
different way) in the failed rebellions against Saddam Hussein in Iraq.
To consider such challenges as potential threats to national security is,
of course, to accept adefinition of state security in terms of regime
interest, rather than one that reflects the aspirations of the mass of the
population. Yet regimes resisting calls for political liberalization will
almost certainly define situations in this way, and utilize their security
forces accordingly. The lack of enthusiasm shown by the United States
for post-war Iraqi popular rebellions against Saddam Hussein, or the
muted response to the January 1992 coup that suspended Aigeria's
democratic experiment, suggests that the West may weil concur,
favouring known authoritarians and a stable regional order to
uncertain transitions, civil conflict and unknown (or Islamic funda-
mentalist) future leaderships.
Economic security
Economic issues, like those of political security, are also of key

importance in understanding the origins, dynamics and repercussions
of the crisis. A number of such factors - Iraqi external indebtedness;
Kuwaiti oil production in excess of OPEC quotas, and alleged slant
drilling in the shared Rumayla oilfield; Kuwaiti insistence that
Baghdad repay its outstanding loans; the lure of Kuwaiti assets as a
quick fix to Iraq's war-ravaged and militarized economy - all set the
stage for Saddam Hussein's August 2 invasion of his neighbour. 26 In
turn, the speed and magnitude of the Western response was primarily
motivated by the strategic economic value of regional oil supplies.
Financial inducements and punishments played a key role in the
construction of the international coalition against Iraq, and remained
important tools of policy for the United States and conservative Gulf
states throughout the crisis. Economic sanctions represented a major
source of international pressure on Iraq. The crisis had an immediate
and sometimes dramatic impact on local economies, particularly those
296 Conclusion
heavily reliant on workers' remittances. Finally, in a region with the

greatest economic disparities in the wOrld,27 Saddam Hussein's call for
the mobilization of Arab oil resources on behalf of all Arabs - however
self-serving it might have been - struck a particular responsive chord
among oil-poor populations, from Jordan and Yemen to the Sudan
and North Africa.
In the wake of the second Gulf war, economic factors continue to
figure prominently: for example, sanctions continue to represent a
major source of international pressure on Iraq. Above and beyond
this, the economic changes wrought by the crisis have aggravated
existing problems of economic insecurity, as well as introducing new
ones.
One such efTect will be in the oil sector. During the crisis, Saudi
Arabia expanded oil production to a peak of almost 8.5 million barrels
a day, more than 3 million barrels over and above its July 1990 OPEC
quota. Although temporarily higher oil prices during the conflict
resulted in windfall profits of perhaps USS16 billion, Riyadh also
faced some USS48 billion in war-related costs, forcing the kingdom to
draw on financial reserves and seek a USS3.5 billion externalloan. 28
After the war, faced with a war-aggravated budget deficit and a
lengthy (USS24 billion) post-war military shopping list, Saudi Arabia
is likely to maintain oil production at high levels for some time to
come. Consolidation of Saudi influence within OPEC (and abandon-
ment of its traditional role as the carteI's 'swing' producer) will
enhance its ability to do so. Other GCC countries find themselves in
similar positions. Iraq and Kuwait, meanwhile, face the massive task
of post-war economic reconstruction. 29 As a result, both are likely to
pump oil at maximum capacity once they are able to overcome the
respective political and physical obstacles that presently prevent them
from doing so. The net result of all this will be to sustain total OPEC
production at near current levels. Consequently, oil prices are unlikely
to rise much beyond their immediate post-Gulf War levels in the near
term, and could even prove considerably softer than this. 30 Major Gulf
exporters will be sheltered from the efTects of this by expanded
production and the sheer volume of their earnings. Among those
with limited production or serious debt problems, however, the efTects
will be more serious.
Moreover, soft oil prices and the costs of post-Gulf War reconstruc-
tion will have ripple efTects throughout the Arab system. As Michel
Chatelus demonstrated, low oil prices in the mid-1980s led to reduced
flows of workers' remittances from Arab oil exporters to Arab labour
exporters. Tbis may well recur. It will be compounded, moreover, by

significant shifts in long-term labour import policies as the Gulf states
are likely to accelerate the gradual indigenization and de-Arabization
of their labour forces. Palestinians, Jordanians, Lebanese, Yemenis,
Sudanese and others who are perceived as having been sympathetic to
Iraq are likely to suffer the most; politically-quiescent Asians (and to a
lesser extent, Egyptians) are likely to take their places. Already, most
of the 800000 Yemenis expelled from Saudi Arabia during the crisis
have been barred from re-entering that country, as have the (roughly)
quarter of a million Palestinians displaced from Kuwait. Tbe effects of
this are likely to be particularly grave in Yemen, Jordan and the
occupied territories, where labour remittances have accounted for
10--20 per cent of the domestic economy.
Weak oil prices and domestic priorities will also tend to reduce levels
of inter-Arab aid - an effect that will be aggravated by the political
fallout from the Gulf conflict and a shift in allocation patterns.
Countries perceived as having supported Iraq will find their erstwhile
Gulf aid donors less than forthcoming: already the GCC states have
collectively announced the formal suspension of all economic assis-
tance to Jordan and the Palestine Liberation Organization. Saudi
Arabia and Kuwait both appear to have drawn from the conflict the
lesson that economic aid does not guarantee reciprocal political and
military support in time of need. In the words of one senior Saudi
official: 'What has been proven is that handouts of money do not
make friends. We gave tens of millions of dollars to King Hussein and
to Arafat and they turned against uso Tbe feeling here now is that there
will be no more handouts. 31 Tbe exceptions are Syria and Egypt, who
as members of the anti-Iraq coalition were rewarded for their
participation. This has continued in the aftermath of the crisis
(including the formation of a US$lO billion regional development
fund by GCC states), although apparently at levels below that
expected. Egypt's gains were particularly significant: US$13.7 billion
in Arab and US loans written off during the crisis, and another
US$lO.l billion forgiven by the Paris Club of official Western
creditors afterwards.
Overall, the changes in the Arab economy wrought by the erisis
suggest that a gradual and partial dismantling of the Arab oil economy
has been set in motion. Low levels of Arab conventional economic
integration will be compounded by reduced transfers of labour,
remittances and petrodollar foreign aid. Heightened regional tensions
have dimmed the prospects for economic cooperation among oil-rieh
298 Conclusion
and oil-poor. Tbe massive regional imbalances in wealth that were

seized upon by Saddam Hussein (and reCognized by the US and its
Arab allies in their calls for a new regional development bank) will not
be ameliorated. Instead, reduced exogenous revenues will serve to
aggravate inequalities and economic hardship in much of the periph-
ery of the Arab oil economy. The strains of adjustment amidst
declining external rents, explored in detail in Chapter 7 by Michel
Chatelus, will be aggravated. Moreover, the political impact of such
economic adjustments is highly uncertain: the resulting economic crises
could encourage or accelerate political liberalization (as regimes seek
to accommodate the strains of economic austerity through expanded
political participation), or equally set the stage for increased political
turmoil and renewed authoritarianism.
CONCLUSION
For decades the Middle East has constituted a highly threatening

environment. During this period external military and power pressures
figured prominently among the concems of most Arab leaders. At the
same time, Arab states and regimes were faced with acute threats to
their political security arising from a combination of external and
domestic sources. Tbese threats were arguably more immediate, more
intense and more persistent than their traditional counterparts. Later,
as economic needs grew and Arab states became more dependent
on global markets and the dominant economies, questions of
economic security came to preoccupy decision-makers. In short, Arab
security concerns were not only acute but also multidimensional in
character.
By the late 1980s, the regional security environment was once more
undergoing change as a consequence of the ending of the Cold War,
the termination of the Iran-Iraq war, and the easing of inter-Arab
conflicts. Tbe focus of Arab security concerns appeared to shift from
military and power issues to economic and internal security concerns.
This changing face of national security seemed to presage a significant
paradigm shift in the approach to foreign policy and international
relations in the Arab world. At this juncture, the 1990-91 Gulf War
erupted.
Tbe Iraqi invasion of Kuwait and ensuing coalition response thrust
military and power issues to the forefront once again and made Arab
states acutely aware of their own vulnerabilities in these areas. It thus
seemed to reaffirm the validity of the traditional realist paradigm. Yet,

while there is much to commend such an analysis, the traditional
paradigm remained incomplete and to some extent misleading. For if
the Gulf conflict strikingly demonstrated the continuing importance of
traditional security concerns, it also underscored the breadth and
diversity - as weIl as intensity - of the security problems confronting
the Arab world. This, in turn, makes a broad-based approach to
national security more important than ever.
Today, the sheer range of security concerns confronting Arab states
only serves to sharpen the dilemmas they must confront by complicat-
ing any efTort to cope. In the prevailing climate of uncertainty, Arab
security remains as elusive as ever.
Notes
1. By the mid-1980s, the Middle Bast accounted for 55 per cent of a11 major
power arms transfers to the Third World, and North Africa another
11 per cent. See US Arms Control and Disarmamt"nt Agency, World
Military Expenditures and Arms Transfers 1986 (Washington, DC:
ACDA, 1987).
2. For an analysis of the evolving pattern of power and foreign policy
techniques in the Arab system, see Paul Noble, 'Tbe Arab System:
Pressures, Constraints and Opportunities', in Bahgat Korany, Ali
Dessouki et al., The Foreign Policies of Arab States, 2nd edn (Boulder,
Col.: Westview Press, 1991).
3. Noble, 'Tbe Arab System'.
4. Fouad Ajami, The Arab Predicament (Cambridge University Press, 1981);
and Gabriel Ben-Dor, State and Conflict in the Middle East: The
Emergence of the Postcolonial State (New York: Praeger, 1983). See
also Tawfic E. Farah (ed.), Pan-Arabism and Arab Nationalism: The
Continuing Debate (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1987).
5. Bahgat Korany, 'Alien and Besieged Yet Here to Stay: Tbe Contra-
dictions of the Arab Territorial State', in Ghassan Salame (ed.), The
Foundations of the Arab States (London: Croom Helm, 1987); Ghassan
Salame, 'Inter-Arab Politics: Tbe Return of Geography', in William B.
Quandt (ed.), The Middle &st: Ten Years After Camp DaYid (Wa-
shington, D.C.: Tbe Brookings Institution, 1988); and Rex Brynen,
'Palestine and the Arab State System: Permeability, State Consolida-
tion, and the Intifada', Canadian Journal of Political Science, 24, 3
(September 1991).
6. Sadat's concern at the activities of Soviet advisers in Egypt in the 1970s,
and later Hosni Mubarak's concern in the late 1980s at the extremely
close ties between defence minister Abd al-Halim Abu Ghazala and
Washington, provide two examples of this. Nevertheless, since such
'penetration' is generally supportive of the existing regime, governments
may not perceive it as a serious threat. In contrast, the threat of foreign
300 Conclusion
penetration of this sort is frequently seen by Arab nationalist or Islamic

opposition groups as an existential 'security' threat posed by tbe West to
national independence, identity or morality.
7. On the latter, and in particular on efTorts to resbape culture in directions
supportive of the socio-political status quo, see Eric Davis and Nicolas
Gavrielides, Stateera/t in the MiddJe East: Oi/, Historieal Memory, and
Popular Cu/ture (Miami, Fla.: Florida International University Press,
1991).
8. Giacomo Luciani, 'Allocation vs. Production States: A Tbeoretical
Framework', and Hazem Beblawi, 'Tbe Rentier State in tbe Arab
World', in Beblawi and Luciani (eds), The Rentier State (London:
Croom Helm, 1987); Samib Farsoun, 'Oil, State and Social Structure in
the Middle Bast', Arab Studies Quarterly, 10, 2 (Spring 1988); and
Giacomo Luciani, 'Economic Foundations of Democracy and Autbor-
itarianism: Tbe Arab World in Comparative Perspective', Arab Studies
Quarterly, 10, 4 (Fall 1988).
9. Naseer Aruri, 'Disaster Area: Human Rights in the Arab World', Middle
East Report, 149 (November-December 1987).
10. I. William Zartman, 'Introduction', and Adeed Dawisba, 'Conclusion:
Reasons for Resilience', in Zartman and Dawisba (eds), Beyond Coereion:
The Durability 0/ the Arab State (London: Croom Helm, 1988).
11. For an examination of this in the Syrian and Iraqi contexts, see Nikolas
van Dam, 'Minorities and Political Elites in Iraq and Syria', in Talal
Asad and Roger Owen (eds), The Middle East (New York: Monthly
Review Press, 1983)
12. By tbe middle of tbe decade, more tban ninety sucb groups could be
identified in tbe Arab world, of wbicb more than two-thirds were bighly
militant. R. Hrair Dekmejian, Islam in Revolution: Fundamentalism in the
Arab World (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1985) pp. 179-91.
Tbe fact tbat Dekmejian's study was 'supported and monitored' by tbc
Defcnce Intelligence Agency (p. iv) also provides an indication of tbc
extent to whicb the United States increasingly perceived fundamentalism
as a threat to tbe security interests of itself and its regional allies.
13. F. Gregory Gause III, 'Revolutionary Fevers and Regional Contagion:
Domestic Structures and tbe 'Export' of Revolution in tbe Middle Bast',
Journal 0/ South Asian and Middle Eastern Studies, 14,3 (Spring 1991).
14. For an overview, see tbe contributions to Shireen Hunter (ed.), The
Polities 0/ Islamie Revivalism: Diversity and Unity (Bloomington, Ind.:
Indiana University Press, 1988).
15. For a discussion of this relationsbip, see Klaus Knorr, Military Power
and Potential (Lexington, Mass.: D.C. Heath, 1970) pp. 41-117.
16. Baldev Raj Nayar, 'Political Mainsprings of Economic Planning in tbe
New Nations: Tbe Modernization Imperative versus Social Mobiliza-
tion', Comparative Polities, 6, 3 (April 1975).
17. Maleolm Kerr and EI Sayed Yassin (eds), Rieh and Poor States in the
Middle East: Egypt and the New Arab Order (Boulder, Col.: Westview
Press, 1982).
18. Figures based on production levels presented in Appendix Table A.4.
According to a more sophisticated econometric model developed by Atif
Kubursi and S. H. Park, a fall in oil prices to USSI5 barrel would cost
Mashreq economies a net total of US$39.2 billion (based on 1984 oil
imports and exports). Kubursi and Park, 'Falling Oil Prices and
Economic Adjustment in the Gulf Region: The Limits of Resource
Richness', paper presented to the conference on Dilemmas of Security
and Development in the Arab World, Montreal, November 1989.
19. World Bank, World Development Report 1990 (Oxford University Press,
1990) Table 23.
20. For an overview of the contradictions of public-sector-Ied growth, and
the adoption of infitah in response, see Alan Richards and John Water-
bury, A Politieal Economy 0/ the Middle Etut: State. Class and Eeonomic
Development (Boulder, Col.: Westview Press, 1990) pp. 21~2.
21. On Lebanon, see Salim Nasr, 'Lebanon's War: Is the End in Sight?'
Middle Etut Report, 162 (January-February 1990). On Iraq, see Kamran
Mofid, The Eeonomic Consequenees 0/ the Gul/ War (London: Routledge,
1990). Mofid puts the total cost of the war at USS644.3 billion and
USS452.6 billion to Iran and Iraq respectively.
22. Rex Brynen, 'Economic Crisis and Post-Rentier Democratization in the
Arab World: the Case of Jordan', Canadian Journal 0/ Politieal Seienee,
25, I (March 1992); Daniel Brumberg, 'Democratic Bargains and the
Politics of Economic Stabilization: The Case of Egypt in Comparative
Perspective', paper presented at the annual meeting of the Middle Bast
Studies Association, Toronto, November 1989.
23. In the Nile Valley, for example, Egypt has long considered the flow ofthe
river to be among its paramount security concerns. In and around the
Jordan Valley, water disputes aggravated tensions between Israel and its
Arab neighbours through the 1950s and 1960s, sometimes finding
expression in anned attacks. Indeed, it was Israel's plans to divert
portions of the Jordan river system that provided the rationale for the
first ever meeting of Arab heads of state in 1964. Following the 1967
Arab-Israeli war, Israel moved to exploit water resources in the occupied
territories while restricting Palestinian use. By the 19805, Israel consumed
86 per cent of water supplies and Jewish settIers another 2-5 per cent,
leaving only 8-12 per cent for Palestinians in the occupied territories.
Jordan in particular has suffered from chronic water shortages, while
Lebanon has accused Israel of seeking access to the waters of the Hasbani
River. To the north, allocation of the waters of the Tigris-Euphrates
system fuelled bitter disputes between Turkey, Syria and Iraq. In the
19805, construction of the massive Ataturk Dam in Turkey threatened to
further reduce Syrian supplies and to cut the amount ofwater available to
Iraq by as much as two-thirds. Judith Vidal-Hall, 'Wellsprings of
Conflict', South, May 1989; and Jeffrey Dillman, 'Water Rights in the
Occupied Territories', Journal 0/ Palestine Studies, 19, I (Autumn 1989).
24~ For a more detailed analysis, see Rex Brynen and Paul Noble, 'The Gulf
Crisis and the Arab State System: A New Regional Order?' Arab Studies
QUIlTterly, 13, 1-2 (Winter/Spring 1991).
25. Brynen and Noble, 'The Gulf Crisis and the Arab State System'.
26. On the economic dimensions of the crisis, see Chapter 5 by Fred Lawson
and Chapter 9 by Mehran Nakhjavani in this volume, as weil as Joe
302 Conclusion
Stork and Ann M. Lesch, 'Background to the Crisis: Why War?', and
Marion Farouk-Sluglett and Peter Sluglett, 'Iraq Since 1986: Tbe
Strengthening of Saddam', both in Middle Bast Report, 167 (Novem-
ber-December 1990); and Kiren Aziz Chaudry, 'On the Way to the
Market: Economic Liberalization and Iraq's Invasion', MiddJe East
Report, 170 (May-June 1991).
27. Among members of the Arab League, the average per capita income of
the richest one-third (Libya, Oman, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Qatar,
Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates) is almost twelve times greater
than that of the poorest third (Egypt, Morocco, Yemen, Mauritania,
Sudan and Somalia), calcu1ated from Appendix Tables A.l and A.2.
28. Finaneial Times (London) 2 January 1991; Economist Intelligence Unit,
Country Report: Saudi Arabia 1 (1991) p. 11; and EIU, Country Report:
United Arab Emirates 1 (1991) p. 7.
29. Tbe estimated cost of post-Gulf War reconstruction in Kuwait has been
put at US$20-60 billion; in Iraq, at perhaps US$I00-200 billion. See
Mehran Nakhjavani's Chapter 9 in this volume, as weH as The Economist,
2 March 1991, p. 24; Middle Bast Economic Digest, 22 March 1991, p. 5;
and South, April 1991, p. 13. In July 1991 the Kuwaiti govemment
authorized borrowing of up to US$33 billion in foreign funds for post-
war reconstruction, Montreal Gazette, 16 July 1991, p. A8.
30. At its March 1991 meeting, OPEC agreed to an interim production target
of around 22.3 million barrels a day, a level considerably bigher than its
pre-crisis target of 17.9 million barrels a day, Middle Bast Economic
Digest, 29 March 1991, p. 8.
31. Quoted in New York Times, 2 March 1991, p. 4.
Appendix: Basic Data
Table A.1 Social data
Urbanization Life Infant

Population (1988) expectancy mortality Adult lit-
(1988) (% 0/ (1988) (1988) eracy
(millions) total in years (per 000 (1985)
population) live births) (%)
Algeria 23.8 44 64 72 50
Bahrain 0.47 c.83 68 73
Djibouti 0.37 c.75 47 c.12
Egypt 50.2 48 63 83 44
Iraq 17.6 73 64 68 89
Jordan 3.9 67 66 43 75
Kuwait 2.0 95 73 15 70
Lebanon 2.9 c.81 c66 c.77
Libya 4.2 68 61 80 67
Mauritania 1.9 40 46 125 c.28
Morocco 24.0 47 61 71 33
Oman 1.4 10 64 38 c.38
Qatar 0.41 c.88 70 c.75
Saudi Arabia 14.0 76 64 69 c57
Somalia 5.9 37 47 149 12
Sudan 23.8 21 50 106 c.22
Syria 11.6 51 65 46 60
Tunisia 7.8 54 66 48 54
UAE 1.5 78 71 25 c.73
Yemen 10.9 27 78 126 20
Israel 4.4 91 78 11 95
Iran 48.6 54 63 64 51
Turkey 53.8 47 64 75 74
Notes: See technical notes on page 308.

Source: See page 308.
303
304 Appendix
Table A.2 Economic data
Annual GNP/
GNP/capita capita growth External debtDebt service
(1988) rate (1988) as%
exports
(US $) (1965--88) (US $ millions) (% GNP)
Algeria 2360 2.7 24850 46.6 77.0

Bahrain 6340
Djibouti 'Iow-middle'
Egypt 660 3.6 49970 126.7 16.6
Iraq c.2500 c.80000 c.l90
Jordan 1500 5532 94.0 31.9
Kuwait 13400 -4.3
Lebanon c365 -0.3 499 c.47.0
Libya c.546O -2.7
Mauritania 480 -0.4 2076 196.2 21.6
Morocco 830 2.3 19923 89.8 25.1
Oman 5000 6.4 2940 34.7
Qatar 9930
Saudi Arabia 6200 3.8
Somalia 170 0.5 2035 185.2 4.9
Sudan 480 0.0 11853 74.6 9.5
Syria 1680 2.9 4890 25.0 21.1
Tunisia 1230 3.4 6672 64.2 25.5
UAE 15770
Yemen 594 4348 67.2 20.1
Israel 8650 2.7 c.22500 c.67.0 c.18.0
Iran c.1700
Turkey 1280 2.6 39592 46.1 35.2
Notes: See technical notes on page 308.

Table A.3 Military Data
Armedforees (1990) Defenee spending Weapons systems

(1989) (1989)
Aetive Reserves Para-military US$ %GDP Tanks Aireraft Strategie
millions
Aigeria 125000 150000 23000 854· 1.8 900 257

Bahrain 6000 2250 185 4.7 54 24
Djibouti 2900 1200 36· 9.0·
Egypt 450000 623000 374000 6810 6.7 3190 475 SSM
chemical
Iraq 1000000 850000 4800 12870· 27.9· 5500 689 SSM
chemical
Jordan 85250 35000 33200 441· 11.7 1131 104
Kuwait 20300 7000 1540· 6.7 245 35
Lebanon 21800 8000 154· 4.2 200 3
Libya 85000 40000 5500 1390· 5.8· 2300 513 SSM
chemical
Mauritania 11100 5700 5
Morocco 192500 100000 40000 1207 5.2 284 93
Oman 29500 3900 1360· 16.2 39 57
Qatar 6000 154· 2.9· 24 18
Saudi Arabia 67500 70000 14690· 18.7 550 189 SSM
Somalia 64500 29500 83· 12.2· 290 56
Toble continued over
I.;.)
oVI
Table A.3 cont. w
~
Armedforces (1990) Defence spending Weapons systems
(1989) (1989)
Active Reseryes Para-military USS %GDP Tanks Aircraft Strategie
millions
Sudan 75700 3000 478· 4.5· 215 53

Syria 404000 400000 24300 2490· 12.3 4000 558 SSM
chemical
Tunisia 38000 13500 482· 4.8 98 50
UAE 44000 1470· 5.7 131 91
Yemen 66000 85000 75000 786 11.1 1 195 181 SSM
Israel 141000 504000 6000 6020· 15.1 4288 553 SSM
chemical
nuclear
Iran 504000 350000 45000 9900· 2.2· 500 185 SSM
chemical
T",lcey 647400 11 07000 71100 2100 2.7 3714 455 (NATO
nuclear)
Hotes: See technical notes on page 308.

Table A.4 OPEC oil production (thousand barrels per day)
1970 1975 1980 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989

Algeria 1029.1 982.6 1019.9 672.4 673.9 648.2 650.7 727.3
Ecuador 4.1 160.9 204.1 280.6 256.5 180.9 300.8 278.9
Gabon 108.8 223.0 174.5 171.7 164.7 154.5 157.0 204.3
Indonesia 853.6 1306.5 1575.7 1181.5 1256.8 1158.1 1177.5 1231.0
Iran 3829.0 5350.1 1467.3 2192.3 2037.1 2297.6 2305.4 2814.1
Iraq 1548.6 2261.7 2646.4 1404.4 1876.5 2358.7 2739.8 2785.8
Kuwait 2989.6 2084.2 1663.7 936.3 1237.7 971.6 1396.5 1463.5
Libya 3318.0 1479.8 1831.6 1023.7 1308.0 972.5 1029.8 1129.2
Nigeria 1083.1 1783.2 2058.0 1498.9 1466.6 1323.0 1367.6 1716.3
Qatar 362.4 437.6 471.4 290.1 313.6 291.4 319.4 320.2
Saudi Arabia 3799.1 7075.4 9900.5 3175.0 4784.2 3975.2 5086.3 5064.5
UAE 779.6 1663.8 1701.9 1056.8 1308.9 1417.7 1509.5 1857.8
Venezuela 3708.0 2346.2 2165.0 1564.0 1648.5 1575.5 1578.1 1747.4
Total OPEC 23413.0 27155.0 26880.0 15447.7 18333.1 17324.8 19618.5 21340.3
Note: See technica1 notes on page 308.

~
o
~
308 Appendix
Table A.5 World oil reserves (confirmed 1990)
(millions 0/ barrels) (% o/world)
Aigeria 9200 0.9

Bahrain 97
Egypt 4500 0.5
Iraq 100000 10.1
Kuwait 97025 9.8
Libya 22800 2.3
Oman 4300 0.4
Qatar 4500 0.5
Saudi Arabia 260348 26.2
Syria 1700 0.2
Tunisia 1700 0.2
UAE 98100 9.9
Yemen 4000 0.4
(Arab world) (61.4)
Iran 92850 9.3
(Middle Bast) (70.7)
Canada 0.6
USA 2.6
Latin America 12.2
Africa (sub-Saharan) 2.2
Western Europe 1.4
Bastern Europe/USSR 8.3
Asia-Pacific/Australia 2.6
Holes: See technical notes below.

TECHNICAL NOTES
c. estimate
- none or negligible
.. data unavailable
• different year
Table A.l: Sodal data

Data drawn from World Bank, World Developmenl Reporl 1990 (Oxford
University Press, 1990); estimates are made by authors from other sources.
North and South Yemen merged in 1990 to form a single state; figures shown
are based on totals or weighted averages for the YAR and PDRY, and are
intended to provide a rough indication of the social conditions in a unified
Yemen.
Appendix 309
Table A.2: Economic data

Data drawn from World Bank, World Development Report 1990 (Oxford
University Press, 1990); estimates are made by authors from other sources.
Figures for Yemen are based on totals or weighted averages for the YAR and
PDRY, and are intended to provide a rough indication of the economie status
of a unified state.
Table A.3: Military data

Data drawn from International Institute for Strategie Studies, Military Balance
1990-91 (London: Brassey's, 1990). Figures for Yemen are based on totals or
weighted averages for the YAR and PDRY, and are intended to provide a
rough indieation of the military capabilities of a unified state.
Armed forces: All estimates are prior to Iraq's invasion of Kuwait on

2 August 1990. As a result of that war, mueh of the Iraqi and Kuwaiti armed
forces were destroyed. Paramilitary figures for Saudi Arabia inelude 55000
National Guard under direct royal eommand, equipped with armoured
vehieles and artillery. Aetive figures for Iran include 150000 Revolutionary
Guards; paramilitary figures exelude up to I million Basij 'Popular
Mobilization Army' volunteers (raised for offensive operations during the
Iraq-Iran war, but not currently embodied), and up to 2.5 million Horne
Guards.
Defence spending: 1986--87 data provided for Somalia; 1987 data provided
for Qatar; 1987-88 data provided for Sudan; 1988 data provided for Djibouti,
Iraq, Libya, Iran; 1990 data provided ror Lebanon.
Weapons systems: In some cases, large numbers of weapons may be in

storage (Libya) or are of doubtful serviceability and availability (Iran,
Lebanon, Somalia, Yemen). Figures do not include systems aequired or
destroyed during the 1990-91 GulfWar. In the wake ofthat war, the United
Nations Security Couneil has ordered the destruetion of Iraq's ehemical,
nuclear and SSM capabilities. 'Strategie' weapons systems are defined here as
ehemical weapons and nuclear weapons, together with surface-to-surface
missiles (SSM) of more than 150km range. It should also be noted, however,
that aireraft may serve as weil as or better than SSMs as delivery vehicles for
unconventional weapons.
Table A.4: OPEC oil production

Data drawn from Middle East Economic Survey, 34, 7 (19 November 1990).
Table A.5: World oil rese"es

Data drawn from Saudi ARAMCO, Bilan 1990 (Dhahran: Publie Relations
Department, 1991). Because ofrounding errors, figures total more than 100%.
Index
Abdoun, Rabah, 128, 143 Aigiers Agreement (1975), 103

Abu Ageila, 60 Ali, Mohammed, 285
Abu Dhabi, 197 Amin, Galal, 107-8
Abu Ghazala, Abd al-Halim, Amin, Samir, 95
218, 268, 299 Amir, Abd al-Hakim, 63
Abu Sa'ud, Khaled, 202 Anderson, Charles, 53
Adams, Riehard, 143 Anderson, Ewan, 87
Addis Ababa Agreement (1972), Anglo-Persian Oil Company, 185
252 Anyanya, 253
Aden, 170 Arab Cooperation Couneil, 165
Afghanistan, 44, 88, 171, 278 Arab Energy Congress, 189
Africa, 34, 38, 43, 152, 159, 308 Arab--Israeli conflict, see conflict
African studies, xix (Arab--Israeli)
Alawis, 62, 271, 284 Arab League, xxi, 18, 215
Aleppo, 109 Arab Maghreb Union, 165
Aigeria, 12, 84, 86, 146-7, 151, Arab nationalism, 34-5, 48-9,
153-4, 165, 207-8, 244-5, 51-2, 54, 70, 85--6, 108, 189,
247, 267, 277, 283, 285--6, 280-1, 285, 300
288, 294-295 Arab Organization for
agrieultural policies, 96, Industrialization (AO!), 120,
112-13, 127, 134-8, 141 220-1, 230, 266
external debt, 114-17, 135-7, Arab states
147-9, 159, 163,287,304 economie development, 84,
influence of military in, 96-7, 100, 106-17, 123, 128,
248-55, 263, 268, 270 138-43,145--68,209-10,221,
state-building and foreign 258, 285-8, 295-7, 302
poliey, 104 political liberalization, 11, 36,
statistical data, 112-15, 84, 200, 210-11, 259, 263,
129-31, 133, 150-1,303-5, 269, 272-3, 288, 295
307-8 politieal vulnerabilities, 2,
trade, 111-14, 134-5, 147, 151, 10-15, 34-6, 62-7, 84-6,
163 105--6, 156, 173-5, 182,
Algiers, 270 258-9, 271-3, 283-5
310
Index 311
as a regional system, 27-8, 62, Ataturk Dam, 17,301

280; and the broader Middle Austria, 112-14
East region, 28, 46, SI,
275-7,290-2; inter-Arab Ba'ath party, 62, 85, 102-3, 121,
relations in, 276-8, 289-90; 208,261,265,272
major power involvement in, Badran, Shams al-Din, 64
36-41, 278-9, 282, 285, Bahlul, Khalil, 109,266
292-3 Bahrain, 112-14, 119, 147, 149,
state-building, 29, 92, 100-4, 270,282
206-10, 217, 239-55, statistical data, 112-14, ISO,
258-63, 281, 286 303-5,308
state-formation, I, 10-12, Baker Plan (1985), 158, 160, 162
34-5, 170-1,207,280 Bakr, Ahmad Hasan a1-, 102
statistical data, 112-15, ballistic missiles, see weapons
129-31, 133, 150-1, 303-8 (delivery systems)
see also security Bank for International
Arab studies, xix-xxi, 1 Settlements, 148
Arab summit conferences Barakat, Zayni, 260
(1964), 73, 301 Baram, Amatzia, 102
(1978), 208, 212 Barrak, FadiI, 121
(1991),69 Bashir, Omar Hassan al-, 250
Arabian Oil Company, 189 Bazoft, Farhad, 121
Arafat, Yasser, 297 Be'eri, E., 105
Argentina, 18 Beirut, 69
arms control, 89 Belgium,12
arms races, 46, 48, 73, 82, 276 Ben AU, Zine al-Abedine, lOS,
arms transfers, 37, 39-40, 72, 243-4, 248, 250
78, 171, 175, 178,215-16, Ben Bella, Ahmad, 104
218-19, 227, 262, 276, 278, Benelux countries, 190
286,299 Ben Jadid, Chadli, 116, 135, 245,
Aron, Raymond, 7, 9 248-50,252
Asia, 4, 38, 95, 308 Ben Shakir, Sharif Zaid, 66
East, 106, 111 Bismarck, Otto von, 58
South,44 Black, Cyril, 93
Southeast, 42, 44-5 Bolivia, 18
Asian studies, xix Booth, Kenneth, 3
Asir, 170 Botswana, 198
Assad, Hafez a1-, 36,48,63,261, Boumedienne, Houari, 104, 248,
265,271-2,284 250
Assad, Rifat a1-, 268 Bourguiba, Habib, 243
Aswan High Dam, 286 Brady Plan (1989), 159
312 Index
Brazil, 18, 148, 215, 228, 231 (1991), 47, 88; Israeli attack
Britain, 19, 34, 39, 42-3, 51, 93, on Iraqi nuclear reactor
121, 146, 170, 174, 190, 192, (1981),45,47,276-7; 1948-9
195, 204, 219, 231, 259, 276, war, 207-8, 219; 1956 war,
286 286; 1967 war, 40, 45, 49,
British Petroleum (BP), 185, 189, 59-66, 74; 1973 war, 40, 45,
19~, 199, 201-2 60, 66, 73, 87, 223, 226, 260,
Brunei, 198 286; 1982 war, 40, 45, 67,
Bubiyan Island, 197 281
Bush, George, 70 Chad, 43, 246, 248, 253, 260
Buzan, Barry, 89 Gulf (l99~1), 11, 17,29, 35,
38-40, 43, 49-50, 52, 57,
Cairo, 270 96-7, 142-4, 149, 163, 177,
Camp David Accords (1978), 5, 212, 214, 223, 226, 235-6,
120, 228, 262, 276 2~1, 272, 276; impact on
Canada, 159,308 Arab security, 50, 83, 85,
Cardoso, Fernando, 92 162, 165, 288-99
Cäteau Cambresis, Treaty of Iran-Iraq (198~), 14-17,
(1559), S4-5 37-8, 59, 66-7, 70, 88, 103,
CENTCOM, 278 119-21, 186, 188, 191, 196,
Chad, see conflict (Chad) 212, 214, 218, 220, 224, 228,
Chaliand, Gerard, 6 232, 2~1, 265, 278, 288,
China, 43, 4~, 190, 215 298,301
class, 105-6, 140, 207, 265 regional, 28-9, 32, 42-8, 260,
Clausewitz, Karl von, xvii, 3-4 275-8,289-92; domestic
Cline, Ray, 6 impact of, 207-8, 260;
Cold War, SO, 78, 259 domestic sources of, 14-15,
end of, 57, 211, 288, 292-3, 27-8, 62, 104-6, 25~3,
298 261-2, 279; external
colonialism, 34,42-3,50, 79, 100, intervention in, 36-41, 292-3
134, 168, 173,260,294 Western Sahara, 43, 160, 244,
Commonwealth of Independent 250, 252, 260-1
States, 88 see also Lebanon (civiI war),
communism, 171, 271 security, Sudan (civiI war),
conflict wars
Arab-Israeli, I, 16, 30, 38-9, Cuba,l72
42, 45-9, 58-61, 7~1, 74, Czechoslovakia, 4
87-9, 118, 122, 207-8, 215,
219, 22~, 260, 265, 267, Damascus, 64, 109
275-7, 281, 286, 294; Iraqi Da'wa, al-, 103
SCUD attaclcs on Israel Denmark, 190
Index 313
dependency, 80-1, 92, 94-6, trade, 111-14, 132, 134, 147,

100-2, 110-18, 134, 174, 178, 150-1
182, 207, 209, 284, 286 see also conflict (Arab-Israeli),
Deutsch, Karl, 93--4 Camp David Accords
Djibouti, 303-5 EI Arish, 60
Dlimi, Ahmed, 248 EI-Khaldi, Ghanem, 127-8,
138-9
East Gennany, 172, 179, 246 Engels, Friedrich, 92
economic liberalization, 121, 127, environmental degradation, 81,
136-7, 140, 161, 263-4, 267 90, 140,288
see also infitah, structural Ethiopia, 43
adjustment ethnicity, 2, 12-15, 79-80, 94,
Ecuador, 307 206-7,271
Egypt, 16, 35, 49, 52, 59-66, Euphrates River, 17, 86, 288, 301
70-1, 85-6, 105-8, 142-3, Europe,4, 38,42-3, 51-2, 54, 77,
146-7, 151, 153--4, 187, 190, 93, 106, 108, 111, 120, 151,
196, 203--4, 212, 226-7, 229, 199, 206, 260, 308
246, 259, 267, 278, 283, Eastern, 12, 40, 44, 166, 179,
285-6, 294, 297, 299, 301 211, 215, 269, 272
agricultural policies, 96, 110, Southern,95
112-13, 127, 129-34, 136-8, Western 11, 40, 44, 104
141 European Community, 164,
external debt, 17-19, 114-17, 166-7, 195, 287
133--4, 137, 147-9, 159-63, expatriate labour, 133, 149-51,
168, 210, 224, 228-9, 233--4, 153, 161-2, 172, 176-7, 182,
237-8, 268, 287, 297, 304 264, 283, 287, 296-7
infitah and economic statistical data, 151
liberalization in, 84, 162, 288
influence of military in, 59, Fao peninsula, 197
109-10,208,218,262,268, Farouk-Sluglett, Marion, 103
270 Fatah, al-, 63
military capabilities, 39, 59-61, First World War (1914-18),34-5,
63-6, 224, 262, 277-8, 290 43, 57-8, 170, 182
military industrialization, food, see security (economic)
109-10,119-20,209,214-16, foreign aid, 102, 134, 136, 151,
218-25, 227-8, 233-4, 266 162, 173, 175, 178, 188, 191,
political liberalization in, 84, 196, 198, 203--4, 208, 212,
211, 272, 288 237, 259, 261, 264, 267, 283,
statistical data, 112-15, 286-7, 297-8
129-31, 133, 150-1,303-5, foreigninvestment, 116-17, 130-1,
308 136,192-7,199-200,203
314 Index
foreign investment (cont.) Haley, P. Edward, 4-5

see also multinational Hama, 261, 270, 285
corporations Hasbani River, 301
France, 19, 34, 37, 42, 57, 134, Hassan 11, King, 261
159, 204, 219, 286 Hobbes, Thomas, 7
Frank, Andre Gunder, 95 Hotelling, H., 186
Hudaydah, 175
G-7 (group of industrialized Huddleston, Barbara, 143
countries), 159 Hudson, Michael, 272
Gabon, 307 Hungary,4, 112-13, 172
Gaddafi, Muammar, 87, 245, Huntington, Samuel, 13, 93
248, 250-1, 255 Hussein, King, 16, 62, 64-6, 74,
Garang, John, 247 116, 142, 297
Garnett, John, 3 Hussein, Saddam, 36, 48-9, 52,
Gaza Strip, 16, 39, 276 57,62,66-71,85, 103, 120-2,
Geertz, CtifTord, 34 166, 197,211, 261, 265, 268,
geopotitics, 1, 6,10, 98 271-2, 284, 289, 293, 295-6,
Germany, 43-4, 57-8, 152, 181, 298
193
Gerschenkron, Alexander, 100
Ghati, Boutros, 16 India, 14, 42-4, 46
Glaspie, April, 67, 69, 74-5 Indonesia, 42, 44, 46, 190, 307
Golan Heights, 276 industriatization, 93, 100, 106-10,
Good, Robert, 100 129-30, 132, 135, 153
Gorbachev, Mikhail, 43, 179 import-substitution, 111, 229,
Guecioueur, Adda, 128, 138-9 287
Gulf Cooperation Council infitah, 111,210,259,263-70,
(GCC), 66, 86, 165,204,226, 284,288
270,296-7 international division of labour,
Gulf Oil, 185, 189 95, 110-14, 123, 138, 147
Gulfstates, 11-12, 17,35,52, International Monetary Fund
112, 119, 121, 142-3, 146, (lMF), 18,81, 115-17, 128,
148, 151, 153, 162, 176, 190, 131, 133-7, 140-1, 147-8,
207, 212, 258, 261, 263, 269, 156-7, 159-63, 168, 269, 287
276, 278, 284-5, 289-90, Iran, 13,28,59,86, 185, 191, 197,
294-5,297 225, 261, 267, 276-7, 282,
Gulf war (1990-1), see conflict 289-91, 301
(Gult) repercussions of Islamic
Revolution (1979), 11, 14,
Habre, Hissene, 253 35, 67, 190, 203, 284
Hadhramaut, 170, 181 statistical data, 303-4, 306-8
Index 315
Iran-Iraq war, see conflict military capabilities, 47-8, 73,

(Iran-Iraq) 88-9,291
Iraq, 11-12, 14, 34-6, 48, 52, statistical data, 303-4, 306
59-60, 62, 66, 71, 86, 103, see also eonfliet (Arab-Israeli),
107, 138, 141, 146-7, 151, Camp David Accords
161, 165--6, 188-9, 191, 196, Italy, 146, 190, 199
208,212,218,227,229,261,
265, 267, 270, 277, 282-8, Jadid, Salah, 63
290-1, 293-5, 301-2 Jalloud, Abd al-Sallam, 250
decision to invade Kuwait Japan, 139, 152, 159, 189, 193
(1990), 43, 49, 57, 67-70, Jawf, 175
120-2, 197,201,295 Jervis, Robert, 59, 118
external debt, 17-18, 68, 115, Jonglei Canal project, 86
121-2, 147-8, 159, 197, 228, Jordan, 16, 34, 59, 62-6, 71, 85,
232, 237, 265, 295, 304 88,105-7,109,117,119,138,
influence of military in, 109, 142, 146, 150-1, 153-5,
263, 268, 270 165--6, 196, 203, 208, 212,
military capabilities, 47, 60, 266-7, 277, 283, 288, 290,
214, 225, 236, 289 296-7
military industrialization, 109, external debt, 18, 114-16,
120-1,209,214-16,218,220, 147-9, 159-62, 287, 304
225, 228-9, 232-3, 266 politieal liberalization in, 84,
state-building and foreign 211, 294
poliey, 102-3, 119-22 statistical data, 112-15, 151,
statistical data, 112-15, 303-5, 303-5
307-8 trade, 112-14, 147, 152, 287
trade, 111-14, 122, 147 see also conflict (Arab-Israeli),
see also confliet (Arab-Israeli), Jordan River, Wahda Dam,
eonflict (Gult), conflict Yarmuk River
(Iran-Iraq), Euphrates River, Jordan River, 16, 86, 288, 301
Kurds, Shi'ites, Tigris River
Islam, xix, 1, 11, 13-14, 52, 84-6, Kamil, Husain, 109, 121
103, 249, 260, 271, 282, Kampuchea, 45--6
284-5, 295, 300 Karak, 116
see also Shi'ites, Sunnis Kashmir,42
Islamic Jihad, 285 Kellogg-Briand Paet (1928), 7
Islamic Salvation Front, 249 Keohane, Robert, 117
Ismael, Khedive, 18 Khalidi, Rashid, 105
Israel, 16,28, 39-41,45--6, 51, Khammash, Amer, 65
58-9, 62-3, 261, 276-8, 286, Khayrallah, Adnan, 268
292-3,301 Khomeini, Ayatollah, 13, 59
316 Index
Kissinger, Henry, 7 less developed countries (LDCs),

Kubursi, Atif, 128, 139, 143 see Third World
Kurds, 11, 34, 36, 103, 211, 261, Libya,43,87, 108, 112-14, 146-7,
270-1, 277, 282 149, 151, 189, 199,208,
Kuwait, 11-12, 35, 43, 59, 68-9, 245-7, 277-8, 281, 283, 287
71, 107, 146-7, 149, 152, influence of military in, 247-8,
195-204, 212, 272, 282, 285, 250-2, 254-5
287, 295-7, 302 statistical data, 112-14, ISO,
oil policies, 97, 153, 185-92, 303-5, 307-8
196, 198, 201, 203-4 see also conflict (Chad)
overseas investments, 97, Lidell Hart, Basil, 4-5
192-7, 200, 202 Lippman, Walter, 2, 77-8
statistical data, 303-5, 307-8 Litani River, 86-7
see also conflict (Gulf) London Club (of private
Kuwait Fund for Arab Economic creditors), 161
Development (KFAED),
196, 203 Maan, 116
Kuwait Investment Agency Machiavelli, Niccolo, 7, 239
(KIA), 193, 202 Mackinder, Harold, 6
Kuwait Investment Office (KlO), Maghreb, 18, 151, 164, 166, 208,
192-6 239-55,258,261,277,285,
Kuwait Oil Company (KOC), 287-8,295
189 Mahan, Alfred, 6
Kuwait Petroleum Company Mahra, 170
(KPC), 189, 190, 196, 199 Malaysia, 42, 44
Mann, Michael, 53
Marx, Karl, 92
Lahij, 170 Mashreq, 52, 151,208,210,261,
Latin America, 152, 158, 211, 308 265, 269, 288, 301
Latin American studies, xix Mauritania, 18, 146, 303-5
Lebanon, 9, 34, 49, 59, 83, 86, Mazrui, Ali, 32
107, 146-7, 202, 211, 261, McNamara, Robert, 78
276-9, 282, 287, 290, 297, Mecca, 270, 284
301 Merbah, Kasdi, 248, 250
civil war, 11, 80, 283, 287 Mexico, 18, 148, 160, 228
statistical data, 303-5 Middle East, definition of, xxi,
see also conflict (Arab-Israeli), 168
Hasbani River, Litani River, military
Syria (intervention in expenditures, 173, 207, 209,
Lebanon) 224, 227, 246, 250, 264,
Leca, Jean, 105 305-6
Index 317
impact on economic Nigeria, 307

development, 109-10, Nile River, 16, 86, 288, 301
208-10,218,259-61,264-8 nonalignment, 101
impact on state-building, North Africa, see Maghreb
206-8, 210, 217-18, 239-40, North America, 52, 54,93, 106,
247-55, 25~3 111, 120
industrialization, 109-10, North Atlantic Treaty
209-10, 214--36, 262, 266--7 Organization (NATO), 41
regimes, 209, 213, 249-50, North Korea, 215
25~, 268 North Yemen (YAR), see Yemen
see also conflict, war Norway, 114
modemization, 12,82,92-4,96, Numeiri, Jaafar, 246, 249, 252
250--1, 285 Nye, Joseph, 117
Morgenthau, Hans, 9
Morocco, 12, 138, 146, 150--1, oil, 36, 38, 52, 67-8, 71, 76, 86,
164--5, 187, 196, 208, 239, 108, 133, 135, 142, 145,
243-4,247,261,277,285, 149-53, 160, 162, 165-6, 172,
288,294 178, 182, 185-204,207,
external debt, 17, 147-9, 154, 228-9,260--1,263-5,283,
159-61,287,304 293-8
influence of military in, 247-8, embargo (1973-4), 15-16, 111,
250-4 189,286
statistical data, 112-14, 151, price fluctuations, 35, 68, 71,
303-5 163-4, 188-93, 197-9, 201,
trade, 112-14, 147, 152, 287 229, 286-7, 300--1
see also conflict (Western statistical data, 150, 307-8
Sahara) Oman, 146-7, 149, 278
Mossadeq, Mohammed, 185 statistical data, 303-5, 308
Mosul, 103 Organization of Arab Petroleum
Mubarak, Hosni, 105, 116, 133, Exporting Countries
263,299 (OAPEC), 111
mukhabarat, 179,208,210,270--2 Organization of Economic
multinational corporations, 9, Cooperation and
117 Development (OECD), 148,
see also foreign investment 190, 192
Organization of Petroleum
Najran, 176 Exporting Countries
Nasser, Gamal Abd al-, 48-9, 52, (OPEC), 71, 189-92, 195,
61-6, 74, 263, 280 197-9, 201-2, 286, 295-6,
National Liberation Front, 170 302,307
Netherlands, 152, 189 orientalism, xix
318 Index
Orontes River, 86 repression, 77, 105,208,211,254,

Ottoman empire, 34, 43, 54, 128, 269-71,283-4
170, 260, 268, 285 Reserve Fund for Future
Owen, Roger, 106-8 Generations (RFFG), 186,
193-4
Pakistan, 14, 42, 44, 46, 88 resources, see security (economic)
Palestine, 34, 42, 49, 51 Richards, Alan, 128
Palestine Liberation Rumayla oilfield, 295
Organization (PLO), 41, 196, Russia, 39-41, 57-8
203, 277, 290-2, 297
see also Fatah, al- Sabah family, 187, 203-4
Palestinians, 42, 45, 63, 71, 142, Sabah, Sheikh Ali Khalifah al-,
161, 189, 203-204, 276, 281, 194, 196, 201-2
291, 294, 297, 301 Sabah, Sheikh Fahd Muhammad
see also conflict (Arab-Israeli), al-, 194
Gaza Strip, Palestine Sabah, Sheikh Jaber al-Ahmed
Liberation Organization, al-, 192
West Bank Sadat, Anwar al-, 133, 263,
Paret, Peter, 3, 7 268-9, 285, 299
Paris Club (or official creditors), Salt, 116
159-61, 163,297 Samu, al-, 63, 65
patriarchy, 259 Sana'a, 175
Philippines, 160 Saudi Arabia, 12, 38-40, 48, 52,
Poland,237 63-4, 71, 88, 107-8, 111-13,
population growth, 81, 86 119, 138, 142, 147, 149, 152,
203, 209, 212, 215--16, 218,
Qatar, 88, 119, 147, 149, 189, 198, 227, 229, 270-2, 278, 282,
287 285--7, 289-90, 295--7
statistical data, 150, 303-5, military industrialization, 120,
307-8 214-16, 218-22, 225--7,
229-32,234
Rageau, Jean-Pierre, 6 oil policies, 189, 191, 197, 199,
Rapid Deployment Force, see 296
CENTCOM relations with Yemen, 97,
realist paradigm, 1, 6--10, 171-2, 174-8, 180-2,278
298-9 statistical data, 112-14, 150,
rentier 303-5, 307-8
states, 231, 241, 244, 246, 261, Second World War (1939-45),
264,283 xviii, 37, 42, 129, 173
economies, 145--7, 150-4, 156, security
161,264,267 cultural, 14, 27, 300
Index 319
definition of, xviii-xx, 1-19, Sinai, 60, 63

2fr8, 31-2, 5fr7, 7fr83, Skocpol, Theda, 260
89-90, 92, 169, 275, 279, 295 Sluglett, Peter, 103
dilemma, 39, 5fr8, 61-2, 78, Somalia, 9, 18, 43, 80, 146, 303-5
80, 96, 118-20, 123 South Africa, 114, 215
economie, xviii, 2, 14-19,27-9, South Korea, 18, 112-14, 199,
76, 9fr8, 10fr18, 127-8, 228,231
145-68, 171-2, 17fr8, South Yemen (pDRY), see
181-2, 185-201, 20~, 209, Yemen
285-8,295-8;food,2,15-17, Soviet Union, see Union of
76, 96, 110, 112-13, 127-44, Soviet Socialist Republies
264, 266; resources, Ifr17, Spain, 12, 195, 201
81-2, 288, 301 Springborg, Robert, 110
military, xviii, 1-5, 7-9, 19, strategie studies, see security
2fr7, 29, 42-3, 4fr8, 51, studies
5fr72, 77-8, 82, 87-9, 207, struetural adjustment, 154-8, 288
261,275-8,289-91,298 Sudan, 9, 83, 86, 112-14, 141,
politieal, 2, 11, 14, 27-9, 32--6, 14fr7, 151, 156, 166,208,
51, 62-7, 79-80, 156, 166, 211, 24fr7, 283, 288, 294,
171-5, 179-81,263,269-73, 297
279-85,298 eivil war, 11, 80, 159, 246, 263,
power, frl0, 2fr7, 29, 43-5, 283,287
51, 275-8, 289-93, 298 external debt, 18, 147-9, 154,
strategies and poliey-making, 159, 164, 287, 304
28, 58-9, 68-9, 73, 79 influence of military in,
transnational dimensions of, 248-55,263
10, 14, 27, 29, 49, 52, 62-7, statistical data, 112-14, 151,
79-80,82, 104,280-2,29~, 30~, 306
299-300 Sudanese People's Liberation
see also Arab states, confliet, Army (SPLA), 247, 253
military, war Suez Canal, 18-19, 61, 64, 133
security studies, xvii-xx, 1-11, 19, Sukarno, Ahmad, 44-45
32, 5fr7, 7fr8, 92 Sunnis, 35, 62
Sen, Armartya, 144 see also Shafi'is
Shafi'is, 174, 180 surface-to-surface missiles
Shakir, Sa'dun, 263 (SSMs), see weapons
Shatt al-Arab waterway, 86 (delivery systems)
Sheikh, Abd al-Hamid al-, 250 Sweden, 190
Shi'ites, 11, 66, 211, 270, 277, Syria, 12, Ifr17, 34, 36,41,49,
282, 290 52, 59, 6~, 66, 71, 84--6,
see also Zaydis 107, 111-15, 14fr7, 150-1,
320 Index
Syria (cont.) 51, 79-81, 51, 94, 100-1,

196, 203, 208, 212, 261, 265, 207-8, 239-42
267,271-2,277,283-5, 288, see also Arab states, conflict,
291,297,301 dependency,
external debt, 114-15, 149, 159, industrialization,
265, 304 international division of
influence of military in, 105, labour, military,
109, 262-3, 267-8, 270 modernization, security,
intervention in Lebanon, 261, structural adjustment,
265,290 underdevelopment
military capabilities, 48, 60, 88, Thucydides, 7
290 Tigris River, 17, 86, 288, 301
statistica1 data, 112-15, 150-1, Tihama, 181
303-4, 306, 308 Tiran, Straits of, 64, 74
see also conflict (Arab-Israeli), Trinidad and Tobago, 198
Euphrates River, Golan Tripartite Declaration, 219
Heights, Yarmuk River Tripp, CharIes, 121
Trotsky, Leon, 123
Ta'izz, 175 Tunisia, 84-6, 105-6, 112-17,
Takrit, 284 138, 146-7, 150-1, 153, 155,
Tal, Wasfi al-, 63 164-5, 196,203,208,243-4,
Teheran,14 247, 277, 285, 288, 294
terrorism, 1 external debt, 18, 114-15,
Thailand, 199 147-9, 154, 15~1, 287
Third World, 4, 11, 15, 32, 37, influence of military in, 247-8,
41-5, 76, 79, 208, 216, 259, 250-2, 254, 263
275-6,292 statistical data, 112-15, 150-1,
debt crisis, 18, 81, 147-8, 152, 303-4, 306, 308
158-9, 164 Turkey, 12, 17, 86, 88, 95-6,
decolonization and state- 142-3, 204, 263, 301
formation, 11-12, 33-4, agricultural policies, 127-32,
42-3, 79, 206 137-8, 141
economic resources, 15-17, 81 statistica1 data, 129-31, 133,
nation-building and national 303-4, 306
integration, 31, 33, 51, see also Ataturk Dam
79-80,94
political participation, 80, 83,
94, 242 Uganda, 246
social sciences and, xix, 92-5 underdevelopment, 81, 92-6, 139,
state-building and political 207, 209, 259, 283
stability, xix, 12-13, 33-4, Unified Arab Command, 63, 73
Index 321
Union of Soviet Socialist Venezuela, 189, 199,307

Republies (USSR), 4, 37, Vietnam, 42, 44--6
39-40, 43, 48, SO, 59, 63-4,
67, 72, 104, 118, 138, 166, Wagner, Harrison, 117
171-2, 179, 181,204,229, Wahda Dam, 17
234, 251, 25~, 265, 278, Walt, Stephen, xviii, 101
286, 291-3, 299 Warba Island, 197
see also Commonwealth of wars, xx, 2, 4-5, 7, 16, 53
Independent States, Russia civil, xx, 11, 80
United Arab Emirates (UAE), of opportunity, 29, 56--7,
17, lOS, 146--7, 149, 153, 189, 67-70
198-9, 286--7 ofvulnerability, 29, 56--7, 62-7,
statistical data, 303-4, 306--8 279
United Nations, 113,204,214, see also oonfliet, security
236,259 (military)
United Nations Emergeney Force water,2, 16--17,81,86--7,96, 140,
(UNEF), 63-5, 74 142,288
United States of America (USA), Waterbury, lohn, 128
xviii, 14, 16, 37,40-2,48, SO, weapons
59, 70, 72, 93, 104, 118, 122, biological, 87, 236, 276, 291
139, 141, 143, 177, 189, 193, ehemical, 47, 60, 71, 87-9, 121,
199,203-4,218-19,224,231, 236, 276, 291, 305--6
233-4, 237, 248, 259, 261, conventional, 5~, 89,
286,289,292-4,299-300, 215-16, 224-6, 276, 305--6
308 delivery systems, 47-8, 60, 71,
Ageney for International 87-8, 109, 236, 261, 276,
Development (US AID), 305--6
116, 133-4 nuelear, xvii, 4, 46--8, 51, 71,
and the Gulf confliet (1990-1), 87-8, 122,236,276,291,
38--41, 43, 52, 67-70, 122, 305--6
177,203-4,236,289,291, see also arms control, arms
293,295 races, arms transfers
relations with Israel, 45, 48, Weber, Max, 92
277 West Bank, 16, 39, 65--66, 161,
strategie interests, 38, 40, 44, 276
SO, 52, 292-3, 295, 298, 300 Westernization, 13,93
see also Baker Plan, Brady Western Sahara, see confliet
Plan, Camp David Accords, (Western Sahara)
CENTCOM Westphalia, Treaty of (1648),
xvii, 2
Vanunu, Mordechai, 47 Wight, Martin, 54-5
322 Index
Wolfers, Amold, 2, 31 North (YAR), 18, 63, 65,

workers' remittances, see 112-14, 138, 146-7, 149-51,
expatriate labour 170-2, 174-6, 178-9 283
World Bank, 16-17, 115, 117, South (pDRY), 18, 146-7, 151,
128, 133, 146, 157, 159 170-2, 174, 179,207,278,
283,287
statistical data, 112-15, 150-1,
Yachir, Faycal, 128, 143 303-4, 306, 308
Yahya, Imam, 170 unification (1990), 97, 172-4,
Yamani, Sheikh Ahmed Zaki, 179-83,288
191,202 Yugoslavia, 114
Yarmuk River, 26
Yemen, 9, 12, 97, 142, 153, 159, Zaydis, 170, 175, 180
165-6, 169-83,278,294-5, Zbiri, Tahar, 248
297 Zeine, Zeine, 54

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INTERNATIONAL POLmCAL ECONOMY SERIES

General Editor: Timothy M. Shaw, Professor ofPolitieal Scienee and International

Recent titles include:

Inga Brandell (editor)

Bonnie K. Campbell (editor)

Bonnie K. Campbell and lohn Loxley (editors)

lerker Carlsson and Timothy M. Shaw (editors)

David P. Forsythe (editor)

William D. Graf (editor)

Steven Kendall Holloway

Paul Mosley (editor)

Dennis C. Pirages and Christine Sylvester (editors)

Jorge Rodrfguez Beruff, J. Peter Figueroa and J. Edward Greene (editors)

David Wurfel and Bruce Burton (editors)

All rights reserved. For infonnation, write:

First published in the United States of America in 1993

I The Analysis of National Security in the Arab Context:

PART ONE SECURITY CONCERNS OLD AND NEW

2 Unravelling the Concept: 'National Security' in the Third

3 The Security Dilemma in the Middle East: A Prognosis

4 Dilemmas of Security and Development in the Arab

PART TWO UNDERDEVELOPMENT AS

5 Neglected Aspects of the Security Dilemma 100

6 Does Food Security Make a Difference? Aigeria, Egypt

7 From the Mirage of Rent to the Burden of Debt:

8 National Integration and National Security: The Case of

9 Resources, Wealth and Security: The Case of Kuwait 185

PARTTHREE SECURITY AS DEVELOPMENT?

10 Arab Military Industrialization: Security Incentives and

11 State-Building and the Military in Arab Africa 239

12 State and Society in the Arab World: Towards a New

13 Conc1usion: The Changing Regional Security

A.l Social data 303

UNDP United Nations Development Programme

Paul Noble is Associate Professor of Political Science and co-founder

Rex Brynen is Assistant Professor of Political Science and Chairperson

Mohammed Ayoob is Associate Professor of International Relations,

Michel Chatelus is Professor of Economics at the Institut d'Etudes

All E. Hillal Dessouki is Professor of Political Science and Director of

Fred H. Lawson is Associate Professor of Government at Mills College

Karen Pfierer is Associate Professor of Economics at Smith College

Mehran Nakhjavani is an economic consultant specializing in oil and

Middle &st Economic Survey, he is the author of Arab Banks in the

Elizabeth Picard is Charge de recherches at the Fondation Nationale

Yezid Sayigh is MacArthur Scholar and Research Fellow at St

Janice Gross Stein is Professor of Political Science at the University of

Manfred W. Wenner is Professor of Political Science at Northern

I. William Zartman is the Jacob Blaustein Professor of International

Economy of Reform in Tunisia; The Political Economy of M orocco; and

War was so mueh apart of international relations that rules by

But with the inereasing predominance of nuelear weapons, a general

We are, of course, accustomed to thinking of national security in

This military assumption leads to a 'false image' of reality, whieh

First causes states to concentrate on military threats and to ignore

Others have argued that, amid the growing salience of issues of

The 1990s will demand aredefinition of what eonstitutes national

And despite impressive technological advances in the world of

the references. 10 Moreover, there seems to be little awareness among

Hence the insistence on adaptation of these models in all the social

We think that it is important to build on these advances rather than

faculty at McGill University and the Universite de Montreal. We

7. Ullman, 'Redefining Security'.

Reconsidered' in Sullivan and Ismael (eds.), The Contemporary Study