By Brian Whitaker
GuardianMarch 10, 2003
Public opinion in the Middle East is increasingly backing western critics of a war in Iraq, and questioning the region's own leaders.
"Vive la France!" The placard would not have looked out of place at a Gaullist election rally in Paris, or a protest by French farmers objecting to imports of British cabbages. However, the bearer of the message was an Egyptian citizen who was demonstrating, in Cairo, against the threat of war in Iraq. For good measure, a second line on the placard added, in Arabic, "Arab leaders, go to hell!"
Something very odd is happening in the Middle East. To declare such public support for a former imperial power, which once vied with Britain for the spoils of the region, and throw in a disparaging comparison with today's Arab leaders, is enough to make the late President Nasser turn in his grave. It casts aspersions on decades of Arab nationalism.
The point, of course, is that, while Arab leaders whimpered vainly during their emergency summit in Egypt on March 1, it was France, together with other countries in the axis of reason (Germany, Russia, China and so on), that succeeded in mustering genuine resistance to US policy.
So far, little attention has been paid to the impact that this western, non-Arab opposition to war is having on the Middle East, but it could be far-reaching. Through television, newspapers and the internet, ordinary Arabs are well aware of protests from other countries, both at street level and among governments.
Although they welcome the news, they are also embarrassed by it, because it highlights their own impotence in what, after all, is matter occurring in their own backyard. In effect this is a double humiliation, at the hands of a domineering US administration, and at those of anti-war westerners, who have proven to be more capable of getting their act together than the Arabs themselves.
As far as the regional impact of war is concerned, there are two currently fashionable, but opposing, predictions. One, favoured by neo-conservatives in the US, suggests that, once Saddam Hussein has gone, Arabs everywhere will treat it as a signal to topple their rulers and happily espouse the American way of life: the "creative destruction" theory.
The other is that war will bring catastrophe, creating, among other things, a wave of anti-western sentiment. In anticipation of attacks on westerners, the British government has recently added more countries to its travel warning guidelines. In the Middle East, these include Algeria, Bahrain, Iraq, Israel and the occupied territories, Jordan, Kuwait, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Syria and Yemen.
However, the popular perception of the Middle East as being a dangerous place to visit, especially at the moment, extends well beyond the Foreign Office list. Last week, after reporting for the Guardian on the Arab summit in Sharm al-Sheikh, I decided to spend a few days in Cairo, much to the alarm of my mother. Following my return, several friends also asked whether or not the city is safe.
I am happy to say that nobody shot at me, spat at me in the street, or even gave me a menacing look. The attitude I found was not one of hostility, but of solidarity: a feeling that "we" are all on the same side against "them".
Egyptians have followed reports of anti-war demonstrations in the west with great interest. Amazingly, one Egyptian TV channel even interrupted its programme to bring news of the British parliamentary rebellion on Iraq.
The result is a belief that everyone in Britain, with the exception of Tony Blair and a handful of his ministers, opposes the war. (The vast majority of Americans, incidentally, are thought to oppose it too.) In Egyptian eyes, therefore, Britain's policy on Iraq belongs to Mr Blair alone, not to the country as a whole. Rather than asking British visitors to explain or justify the policy, Egyptians focus all their attention on Mr Blair's behaviour. "What on earth does he think he's doing? Has he gone mad? Why is he so nice to Mr Bush?"
Although Arabs are thoroughly accustomed to leaders who ignore public opinion, many are baffled about how this can happen in a functioning democracy such as Britain, rather than the "display" democracies existing in much of the Middle East.
Over-simplified though perceptions of western resistance to war may be, they are extremely important. Not least, this is because they establish a common bond between Muslims and non-Muslims, and dispel any idea that a clash of civilisations is taking place.
That, in turn, could help to combat terrorism by minimising popular support in the Middle East for attacks on western civilians (although those associated with the US and British governments, or the military, might be a different matter).
If the anti-war movement does succeed in dampening anti-western feeling, how likely is that Arabs will take revenge on their own leaders instead? Contrary to what neo-conservatives think, the question here has little to do with Arab yearnings for democracy: it is primarily about leadership qualities. Have the Arab leaders done enough, in the eyes of their people, to resist US bullying, to oppose the war and to avoid bringing shame on their country?
So far, the verdict is mixed. Most leaders have played a double game, trying not to offend the US while making token gestures to placate public opinion. While staying in Cairo, I got into conversation with the duty manager of my hotel. The place was almost empty, and he blamed this entirely on the Iraq crisis, which he said had scared away many tour groups.
In the absence of other guests to attend to, he posed the inevitable questions about Mr Blair's relationship with the US president, George Bush, which he augmented by reciting lines from George Michael's song, Shoot the Dog.
After a while, I asked him what Arab leaders were doing to stop the war. "Our president is a clever man," he said. "He will think of something." It didn't sound very convincing and, after a pause, he added: "Of course, Mubarak is getting old now, but maybe the Saudis will stop their oil."
I asked whether he really believed that the Saudis would do that. Surely, if they stopped selling oil, they would starve. "No," he replied, "Sheikh Osama [bin Laden] says that Saudi Arabia will never be poor. If they don't have oil, God will provide something else. They have gold besides oil."
It struck me as being rather curious that someone could quote George Michael with approval one moment, and bin Laden the next, but a long-time British resident of Cairo told me later that it is perfectly normal.
The point about bin Laden, George Michael, Saddam Hussein, the French government, the rebellious British MPs and the 1 million protesters in Hyde Park is that they have all, in various ways, stood up to the US. That is the only thing that matters.
Whatever the differences between them, and whatever else they may have done, they all fit the concept of "shaheed", not necessarily a martyr, but someone who bears witness for a cause, in this case against US domination.
This is the crucial factor ignored by neo-conservatives when they talk about regime changes in the Middle East. Regardless of how democratic any new regime may be, it will have no credibility with the public unless it is demonstrably capable of resisting pressure from Washington
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