Tarek Osman's Blog

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لأنه إستطاع أن يجذب ملايين القرّاء لعالم من العلم و الخرافة، كان وقت أن بدأ يكتب، جديد عليهم…و تلك إضافة جادة للثقافة.

لأنه إختار أن يكون البطل في رواياته إنسان بسيط في خارجة، ثري للغاية في داخلة…و تلك رجاحة في التفكير و شجاعة في الإختيار.

لأنه كتب بإسلوب سهل مع إلتزام بقواعد لغتنا الجميلة…و ذلك تعبيرٌ عن العشق للثقافة العربية.

لأن موهبته واسعة، جعلته يجًول و يأخذنا معه في بحور أدبية.

لأنه محترم. لم يسمح لنجاحه أن يأخذه خارج حدود أخلاقه.

لأنه أصيل…عرِف قيمة من سبقوه، فهِم دور ما قدموه في تطور موهبته، و ذكرهم بإحترام، لكن دون تقديس.

لأن دمه كان خفيف.

لأنه و نحن من صنعنا مكانه و مكانته بيننا…لا توجيه دولة و لا مال أمير و قنوات معرفش منين…و ذلك نجاح حقيقي و باقي.

الله يرحمه

England has been anxious for some time.

Economically, England has done well for itself in the last two decades. But London’s disproportionate wealth relative to the rest of England, combined with the fact that London has effectively become an international, as opposed to an English, city, make many in the country feel that even if they do benefit from this wealth creation, they do not relate to it.

Other conditions exacerbate the apathy. The City of London (the concentration of most financial actors in England) wields immense power. A shockingly small number of people control most private media. The gap between England’s rich south and the rest has been widening. Even legacy features of the political system – for example that English matters are decided upon by English and non-English members of parliament (unlike, for example, in Scotland, where only Scottish MPs vote) – have become quite antagonistic for some.

Many retreated to memories of older, gentler times – irrespective of whether those memories are real or flights to fancy. The nostalgia for these times is evinced by a tsunami of period movies and TV series, where England is primarily a beautiful countryside, dotted with mansions ruled by lords and ladies, and the world is a distant ‘other’ whose main role in the storylines is to make England rich. Here England is serene, predictable, free from threats, and from immigrants, derivatives traders, or professional politicians parroting politically correct phrases.

England’s anxiousness is merited. All of the key pillars upon which England, of the past five centuries, stood have been facing slow erosion.

The ‘Empire’ is gone. And the notion that England could wield significant influence in world affairs through its “special relationship” with America is now being acutely tested – especially as America itself is facing several daunting challenges. The problem is compounded because, since Tony Blair left office over a decade ago, no British Prime Minister has defined what that ‘special relationship’ actually means in today’s world. This leaves England with aspirations for influence and clout (normal for a country that, until a century ago, ruled almost half the planet) but limited means.

The monarchy is another reason behind England’s anxiousness. Queen Elisabeth II has perfectly personified the unique role that the monarch plays in English socio-politics. But Prince Charles has adopted a view of the role of the heir to the throne that many in the political class do not share. Some say that Prince William and Princess Kate are the faces of a new monarchical model. Perhaps. But, so far, that model has not exhibited that special command over the imagination that successful modern monarchs must master. All of this does not pose any risk to the monarchy. But it raises questions about the ability of that institution, in the coming few years, to calm an anxious England.

For the Anglican Church, another pillar of England and Englishness, the situation is more difficult. The Church is, arguably, the most progressive in Christendom. Some of the Church’s leaders have forged new understandings of theology that correspond to the values of today’s ultra-liberal Britain and to what is now considered scientific certainties. But this theological flexibility has antagonised many social groups as well as lessened the Church’s influence in the Anglican world. The Church of England might have found the way to relevance in a future that will become even more secular. But relevance is vastly different from being a pillar of the society’s view of itself.

And then there is Brexit. England was the real decider of the United Kingdom’s vote to leave the European Union. And given that it is the heart and engine of the Kingdom, England realises that it bears the responsibility of forging, for the whole Kingdom, a credible path to the future. Since the 2016 referendum, many scenarios of doom and gloom, as well as delusions of imperial grandeur, have appeared in England. Some elements of these scenarios entail value – for example, creative ideas that could be helpful in trade agreements. But a grounded narrative about England – and Britain’s – place in the world remains missing.

Brexit has revealed an acute division within the country, between, on one side, the cosmopolitan young who believe in the European identity, are comfortable in mixed cultural settings, and who want the state to provide them with European-style economic protections, and on the other, the older generations who lament, what they see as, the loss of serene, homogeneous England. It does not help that many in that older generation are now retiring with the benefits of decades of favourable economic conditions (notably manifested in the market prices of their real estate and equity portfolio assets), while most of the young struggle to find stable jobs, let alone save for any serious asset-purchases. Generational differences are hardly new. But the feeling of many young English (and British) that, by voting to leave the EU, the older generation has imposed on them major economic challenges, does not bode well for social harmony.

Anxiousness has given rise to activism. We are seeing a major surge in interest in politics, by old and young, and across different social classes.

This could lead to changes in England’s political economy. There could be a weakening of the City’s political power, more diversification of media ownership, and a serious discussion of the impact of immigration on England, without political correctness or stoking fears.

But, beyond all of that, England needs a new mental model. The previous two in living memory – Churchill’s view of England’s iron-will that leads it to victory and Thatcher’s view of a rising mercantile England that restores elements of the old imperial grandeur – have now long retired to history. The last model, advanced by Tony Blair in the late 1990s, had an effective marketing campaign, the energy of a highly talented politician, and the momentum of buoyant international economic conditions. But in the end, it proved confusing for many voters – perhaps because the project itself was confused between the opposing visions of its two architects: Blair and Gordon Brown.

One prominent English journalist has recently told me that the problem in today’s English politics is that neither the Conservatives nor Labour really wants to rule. Deep down both think they need time, in the shadow, to reflect.

This might mean few years of confusion. Perhaps Britain and England will miss few opportunities. Perhaps the cost of Brexit will climb higher. But these might prove an acceptable price to pay for a viable new project for this country. England needs to think – not merely about trade agreements, the relationships with the US and Europe, immigration, but crucially about the meaning and future of Englishness, which is salient for the meaning and future of Britain.

Many observers, including in England, envisage the country declining slowly in the coming years. Several social groups will suffer, no doubt. But an overall and prolonged decline is highly unlikely. England has three advantages that are crucial in today’s global economy.

First, it has some of the world’s most advanced and creative centres of knowledge in industries that will shape the future: artificial intelligence, particle physics, and bio-engineering. Also, for decades, it has been the world’s second most successful centre (after the US) of producing entertainment formats. (England is, arguably, maximising the leverage of ‘owning’ the world’s lingua franca.) These industries will continue to be major engines of growth and wealth creation for years to come. And if England manages to secure for its financial services industry operating conditions in Europe that are quite similar to those of the past few decades, then the impact of Brexit will be significantly curtailed.

Second, Britain is one of the few places in the world where all leading global powers (the US, China, and Russia) and some of the key rising ones (for example, India) want to invest in research and development, have access, and build trading hubs. Brexit will lessen that. But trends in 2017 do not indicate dramatic changes.

And third, relative to many countries that are considered its peers, England’s socio-politics are attractive. Demographics are not overly skewed towards the old, checks on executive power and respect for the rule of law are almost unrivalled, competitiveness is quite high, corruption is very low, work ethic is excellent, and despite all of the talk about immigration, England has been much more successful than any European country in integrating waves after waves of immigrants.

Politics is the main problem. Politics should provide the thread that connects all of these advantages together. Politics should engage the voters in honest and serious discussions about their concerns, from inequality to immigration. Politics should forge a path for the country’s old institutions to evolve and continue being pillars of support for the society. Politics should reflect on the experience of England and Britain in the last three decades and what they mean for the future. But politics has not been doing much of that.

England has reasons to be anxious. Fog surrounds the ship, the captains are not the sea masters of old, and the existing charts do not cover the waters England is sailing towards. But the ship is both: solid and agile. And for the past five hundred years, anyone who bet on the ship being lost in sea, was proven wrong.

Iran commemorated forty years since the beginning of the revolt, in January 1978 (against Shah Mohamed Reza Pahlavi, which ushered in the Islamic Republic in the country) with tens of protestors dead at the hands of security forces.

The demonstrations in Iran stemmed from economic grievances. Young jobless university graduates, primarily in marginal regions, took to the streets to express their anger at a ruling establishment, they see, as complacent and corrupt.

These demonstrations are different from the ones that gripped Iran, in 2009, after Mahmood Agmadinejad won a presidential election that many deemed unfair. Unlike in 2009, Iran’s large merchant classes, especially in the country’s main urban centres, have stayed home.

Still, two large-scale waves of protests in less than a decade compel observers to think about the future of the Islamic Republic.

The Islamic Republic has secured three major achievements in these four decades.

First, it has survived. Despite sustained acute enmity from the world’s sole superpower, a strategic positioning opposed to Israel (the most advanced military force in the Middle East), a decade-long war (in the 1980s) against Saddam Hussein’s Iraq, and three decades of various forms of economic sanctions, the Islamic Republic remains with us.

Second, the Republic’s survival is all the more remarkable given that its founder, the charismatic  Ruhollah Ayatollah Khomeini, died less than a decade after its birth and at a time when its economy, at the end of the war with Iraq, was in tatters.

And third, in the last decade, the Islamic Republic has achieved for Iran something that has always lurked deep in the country’s collective psyche: the want to have political and cultural influence in the eastern Mediterranean, a region with strong emotional connotations to Shiis, all over the world, and especially in Persia.

But despite these achievements, the Islamic Republic has still failed in two crucially important areas.

First, it has not managed to come up with a governing model that reconciles Khomenei’s vision of a religious state with democracy. Though Iran holds regular presidential and parliamentary elections, the country’s political system is based on the concept of “the rule of the most learned jurist of the age”, an old Shii notion that Khomenei had resuscitated and endowed with new meanings that give almost unrestricted powers to the “ruling jurist”. And so, on one hand, the people can choose their representatives and the head of the executive authority; on the other hand, the people, their representatives, and the head of the executive submit to the ruling jurist (today’s Supreme Guide, the ageing Ali Khamanei).

There was an attempt, led by former president Mohamed Khatami in the late 1990s, to evolve the system. Khatami and the reformers who surrounded him, sought a gradual transfer of the prerogatives of the Supreme Guide, and of the clerical bodies that act as guardians of the governing ideology, to elected officials, primarily MPs. The attempt failed, because the power of the Supreme Guide and the clerical bodies, let alone the Islamic Republic’s special military arms (most notably the Revolutionary Guard) proved vastly stronger than those of all elected politicians, including the president, put together.

The Islamic Republic’s second failure is its inability, if not unwillingness, to accommodate Iran’s broad-minded, permissive heritage. Political Islam (in different Shii forms) has always played leading roles in Iranian history, even during the reign of the Shah. But the Islamic Republic’s acute narrowing of the Iranian identity to one specific interpretation of Shii Islam flies in the face of Iran’s rich, illustrious cultural inheritance. It also negates the major achievements of modern Iranian culture which boasts a vibrant and internationally successful artistic scene. To a large extent, the highly conservative rule of the jurists has imprisoned many components of the Iranian free-spirit.

These two failures haunt the Islamic Republic’s future. By refusing to evolve, crushing genuine political representation, and perpetuating a restrictive interpretation of what Iran means, the regime has stuck that wonderful country in a vicious cycle of social polarisation. On one hand, there are those who accept “the rule of the jurist”, and on the other, the rest who see the system as not only oppressive, but an affront to their heritage.

As we have seen, the Islamic Republic’s regime can contain demonstrations of anger. And, given the outcomes of the Arab uprisings in countries such as Syria and Libya, large segments of the Iranian society, especially the large and influential mercantile classes, reckon that the cost of abrupt change will be chaos.

But as long as that social polarisation persists, the Islamic Republic will continue to face eruptions of anger and frustration. And at one point (probably not far off in the future) the country’s free-spirit will win over the current narrow interpretation of its past and fear of its future.

The main line of thought in the Trump administration’s first national security strategy, released on 18 December 2017, is returning America to its post-Cold war position of sole supremacy. A derivative is that the administration sees China and Russia as competitors. This demonstrates America’s recognition that today it has serious rivals in important political, economic, and military theatres.

This recognition gives rise to three implications.

First, America will use its military might decisively if, what it considers to be, its strategic interests are threatened. And so, for example, we see a conspicuously clear military “solution” to the confrontation with North Korea, as well as talk of crushing militant Islamists (as opposed to engaging in a battle of ideas or ways of empowering reformists).

Second, the strategy sees organisations such as the UN, World Bank, International Monetary Fund, World Trade Organisation, primarily, as instruments to be used in different situations. Some might argue that this has always been the case. But even if that is true, what this strategy points to is a brusque modus operandi in the international political-economic landscape.

And third, the strategy’s approach to strategic challenges is anchored in prioritising outcomes in the short term. And so, for example, the political shape of the Korean Peninsula after a military confrontation with North Korea is far more important here than any ideological discussion on an “axis of evil” (of the George W Bush administration) or theoretical discourses such as “arcs of history” (from President Obama’s strategic doctrine).

Many observers see national-security strategies as documents with limited bearing on actual policy-making – a Congressional requirement that any administration must deliver, but which it hardly intends to stick to. Others see it as a marketing document intended to please the administration’s core constituency of voters. True – but dismissing the strategy altogether would be mistaken.

The Trump administration is rich in highly assertive men who truly believe that America’s approach to global politics since the end of the Cold War resulted in weakness relative to the emerging challengers. And so, in their view, America’s engagements in the world must restore what has been lost in those 25 years.

This worldview and these implications do not necessarily result in doom and gloom. Two outcomes are actually welcomed. First, this strategy is honest about the feelings and anxieties of scores of Americans at this moment – whether because of the rise of China (arguably the most important geo-strategic development since the end of the Second World War) or transformative technological changes that will, certainly, leave tens of millions of Americans worse off. This honesty aligns foreign-policy objectives with the concerns of American voters, which leads to consistency, and to voters owning the consequences of these policies.

The second outcome to be welcomed here is sobriety. In the 1990s, America was drunk on its Cold War victory. Some saw an end of history, whereby the liberal-democratic order had won forever. Others talked of a decades-long peace dividend. In the 2000s, America embarked on a-trillion-dollar messianic mission to fix certain places in the world. The 1990s’ worldview has been proven wrong; the mission of the 2000s yielded disasters. Today’s approach stems from a practical view of how to respond to the strategic challenges that America faces.

But this approach will generate three major problems.

First, this strategy pays lip service to the interests of key American partners, primarily Europe. In reality, it demands of them certain military, political, and economic commitments without putting forward a case for why America’s strategic goals (which stem from the administration’s “America First” idea) correspond to theirs. For example, it is far from clear why Berlin, Paris, Rome and Brussels (the seat of the European Union) must commit to America’s strategic competition (let alone potential confrontation) with China, which will almost certainly be Europe’s biggest market and a key provider of investment capital, in the coming two decades. Without persuading Europe, “America First” might end up being “America Alone”.

Second, the strategy’s decisiveness, assertiveness, and seeking clear wins in the short term do not correspond with any meaningful assessment of America’s resources today. Resources here do not mean only economic and financial resources, but also technological advancement; access to raw materials, talent, and markets; hard and soft power; and the ability to shape the global landscape to its advantage. In almost all of these areas, the strategy’s grand rhetoric could well be undermined by American losses in the last two decades.

Third, the strategy does not reflect on how China will respond to this blunt American attempt to preserve and perpetuate America’s sole supremacy. China does face many challenges and handicaps, but China today has arrived at a stage whereby it is not totally occupied with its economic growth. China will neither acquiesce nor sit idle as the US attempts to contain and curtail its rise as a rival superpower.

In a way, this strategy could be seen as a discussion-starter – between America and its allies, as well as its competitors. This discussion could avert misunderstandings, especially since there are strategic theatres where misunderstandings could result in miscalculations with grave consequences. These theatres include the Korean Peninsula and the entire EU-Russia border (where America, through NATO, has major military presence).

For the rest of the world, this strategy should lead to corresponding national-security thinking. The complexities in what the US administration is trying to undertake will likely cause the administration to move sharply and often surprisingly. The rest of the world will have to learn, quickly, how to anticipate and mitigate against the risks that such moves would generate.

The last days of a year are, in a way, its frontier. The very end of a journey, of a specific place in the time that’s one’s life. And Aswan is, in a way, an Egyptian frontier, where Arab Egypt meets Africa, where Arabness and “Saeediness” encounter Nubia, that proud distinctive culture that has always embraced Egyptianness and Africanness, and infused them with its own take on Islam.

In Aswan, people feel their place at the end of the country, at the intersection of cultures. They refer to Egypt as a here and there. ‘Here’ in their being part of it, ‘there’ in it being here only with a light touch, a colossal culture dominant across its many domains, and yet here, it leaves only subtle imprints.

Some of the Aswanis themselves came here from a further frontier. Tribes and communities that were evacuated from their ancestral homes, tens of kilometres south, during the building of the High Dam, and who remain, half a century later, foreigners in the town that had become their home. And so, amidst the closely knit society, they have opted to live on the margin, on the outskirts of the town, surrounded, on one side by lemon and olive trees, and on the other, by the Nile.

And that great river, the giver of life to Egypt, the god of the ancients, here, is always coming to us (Egyptians) from that frontier: Africa. There it gathers its waters, enriches itself with mud and minerals, and traverses the Continent’s eastern valleys and plains, with speed and rigour, fresh gallops of giant waves of water, until it reaches Nubia, where we (in the 1960s, with the building of the High Dam) had sapped it of its rigour, in a way, domesticated it, made the god of the ancients a mere waterway for us, their descendants. The gallops slow to tender steps. The Nile has come from the frontier, has arrived home.

As the glasses flash in the chandeliers’ lights, glimpses of the felukas glimmer as they swing over the Nile. It was almost midnight. Conversations were giving way to whispers, to closenesses, and slowly to caresses, while the music in the background was giving way to a countdown to the new year.

The terrace would have looked exactly the same, decades ago, when the Old Cataract was built. Then, it was a haven, for those with means, to enjoy Aswan’s glorious wintery sun, and bathe their worries in its warm rays. Then, they, like us today, chose from the intersection of cultures only the elements that fit their (and our) quest for relaxation and tranquility in this town of sparseness. They, like us, chose to come to this quiet frontier to unburden themselves (ourselves) from the trappings of wants, busyness, demands, and fast pace.

“President Mitterrand used to like his morning coffee here”, the terrance’s manager, distinguished in his black suit, from the waiters in their satin kaftans, reminded me, with a triumphant smile. Small glories that are soon swept away by the grinds of daily lives of those for whom this frontier is the full encapsulation of life.

That evening, the terrace was a frontier where one can indulge in an old decadence, where one can plunge into a time gone by, a frontier between a past revisited and a present paused.

Saudi Arabia is witnessing dramatic changes – from a gradual break-up of the royal family’s 200-years old alliance with the austere Sunni discipline, Wahhabism, to major developments within the royal family. These changes are seen as measures by the 32-year old crown prince, Mohamed bin Salman, or MbS, to avert any opposition to his ascent to the throne. They are more than that.

MbS wants to transform the kingdom that his grandfather, King Abdelaziz al-Saud founded some eighty years ago. He wants his family’s political legitimacy to evolve towards a modern social contract with the Saudi population. He sees the urgent need for the Saudi economy to move beyond dependence on oil. And he wants to secure for his country a major influence in the Arabian Peninsula and the eastern Mediterranean, two regions the Saudis have, for almost four decades now, considered their sphere of privilege.

Six factors help him.

First, MbS’s actions – surprising to many outside the kingdom – are not unprecedented. Abdelaziz al-Saud united the largest sections of the Arabian Peninsula, primarily, through partnering with armed followers of the Wahhabi discipline and using them in military campaigns against various tribes and clans that used to rule different parts of the Peninsula. MbS’s uncle, King Faisal, one of the most respected Saudi kings in and outside the kingdom, came to the throne after orchestrating the removal of his elder brother, King Saud. And so, irrespective of the media’s focus on sensationalist details, MbS’s assertive measures are not unheard of in Saudi history.

Second, MbS commands major resources. Observers of Saudi Arabia focus on the kingdom’s reserves of foreign currency, which seem to have lost a quarter of their value (now reportedly standing at circa UD680bn) in the last four years. At this rate of depletion, and given the trajectory of oil prices, many observers worry, the reserves will not last long. This view misses two factors. The first is that Saudi’s financial reserves are significantly larger than the reported numbers. Saudi Arabia has built, over the past half century, a vast portfolio of real estate investments in some of the most prized locations in the world. The second is that the Saudis have always adopted a highly conservative and detached strategy in managing that extensive portfolio. We are likely to see changes in how the Saudi leadership leverages that portfolio to significantly increase its financial yield. This will not substitute for the declining oil revenues. But it will provide the Saudi leadership with significant liquidity that many economic observers do not take into account.

Third, MbS represents change in a system that, despite some reforms during the reign of the previous monarch, King Abdullah, has effectively remained the same for many decades. And that system has been found lacking. A significant percentage of Saudis live in poverty. And for the half of the population that is under 30-years old, finding jobs is a struggle. Plus, for over two decades now, there has been muted anger within large segments of the Saudi society of the rampant corruption that ills large parts of the economy. And so, representing change gives MbS wide support within the large constituency of young Saudis.

The fourth positive factor for MbS is his close cooperation with the United Arab Emirates, the most successful socio-economic developmental story the Arab world has witnessed in the last three decades. He benefits from being in close touch with leaders who designed and managed major socio-economic changes in their country. And here, good counsel can mitigate against many pitfalls.

Fifth, despite his assertive measures, the Saudi family does not seem to have other leaders towards whom large sections of the 3000-plus princes would gravitate. This gives MbS the incumbency advantage: being the Crown Prince and the man effectively controlling all of the state’s military, economic, and financial powers.

The sixth factor is that he is bold. And fortune favours the bold.

But MbS faces five monumental challenges.

The first is the combined impact of grand scale, scope, and speed. MbS’s changes are transformative, and touch almost all aspects of Saudi political and social life. The speed with which these changes are introduced is dramatically rapid. This could lead to unintended consequences, many of which could stir trouble.

Second, the foundations MbS is building upon are far from solid. Saudi has always had a poor educational system. It is reliant on the presence of high and low end expatriates in many sectors. The majority of women have, for decades, been excluded from most economic domains. Competitiveness relative to international peers is low. The country’s political economy landscape has, since the founding of the kingdom, been anchored on a divide of spoils between two dozens of major merchant families. And so, the socio-economic infrastructure, the standards of good governance, rule of law, and the operational state of public institutions leave much to be desired.

The third challenge is the traditional role of Islam in Saudi society. MbS is seen as an opponent to the Wahhabi school of thought. Saudi Arabia has, since the eruption of the Arab uprisings six years ago, been an acute adversary of almost all forms of political Islam. And despite its success in tackling the problem of militancy inside the kingdom, Saudi Arabia continues to have sections of its young citizens who hold highly assertive, and often radical, views concerning the role of religion in society. These factors, combined with MbS’s modernising drive, will certainly antagonise some of those radicalised young Saudis. Some might see the changes as an assault on Islam (as they understand it). This could result in serious tensions in the society.

The fourth is geo-politics. Given Iran’s strategic gains, in the last decade, in expanding its sphere of influence to large sections of the eastern Mediterranean, MbS’s apparent calculus is that Iran has become a direct threat to Saudi Arabia. Here his thinking resonates with that of many Gulf strategists for whom Iran’s expansionism tantamount to an existential risk for their countries. And herein lies the challenge. Iran, and its allies in the region, have significantly more experience than that of MbS and his advisors. And in strategic confrontations, grounding and experience matter. Also, relative to Saudi Arabia, Iran has a very sophisticated strategic decision making mechanism that has been repeatedly tested, to good results. And though Iran’s state institutions are plagued by many governance ills, they are diversified and draw on the heritage of a rich civilisation. This means that as the Saudi-Iranian confrontation enters new phases, more pressures will mount on the Saudi nerve centres, which, these days, are highly concentrated in the hands of one man, MbS.

Fifth, Saudi’s preeminence in the Arab world was always based on its financial power and role as the underwriter of the region. It was the Saudi ability and willingness to provide fiscal support and be the lender of last resort that gave it political influence. In an age of economic transformation, cutting largesse, and focusing on internal development, Saudi Arabia is likely to significantly curtail these forms of assistance. And it is not clear what else Saudi Arabia can use to perpetuate its political leadership in the Arab world.

Some observers of the Middle East have argued, since the eruption of the Arab uprisings in 2011, that the region’s major geo-strategic story is the future of Saudi Arabia. This story is now unfolding. Saudi Arabia has always stirred in observers of the Middle East strong feelings. Many have long admired its affluence, confidence, and the dignified assertiveness anchored on the traditional nobleness of Arab tribes. And many have long seen the kingdom as an example of the form of tribalism that the great 14th century Arab historiographer Ibn Khaldun argued would erode the foundations of the Arab civilisation. But the importance of Saudi’s future merits more than sentimental assessments. If Saudi manages to transcend its challenges and emerges with a new sustainable political and socio-economic model, the country will become a major force for stability and progress in the Arab world. But if chaos reaches Saudi Arabia, the entire Middle East will witness a new wave of havoc.

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