What Will Peace Mean To The Middle East?

By Robin Wright

Not tranquillity. Oh, sure, that final White House signing ceremony that eventually ends hostilities will open the way, unevenly and begrudgingly at first, for tourism across the Golan Heights, quiet along the Galilee, coexistence in Jerusalem and joint ventures in Jordan and the Gaza Strip. But a Middle East peace deal doesn't mean peace in the Middle East.

The conflict's conclusion will be more memorable for the turmoil that follows. A couple decades down the road, you may even find yourself musing, "Oh, for the good old days of straightforward conflicts between Arabs and Israelis. Like the cold war--how simple it was back then."

The comparison is appropriate, for the aftermath of the Arab-Israeli dispute will mirror the aftermath of the superpower rivalry, writ small. Once again the dangers will shift from big bloody wars between states or their surrogates to a bunch of smaller but messier and more persistent conflicts within countries. But don't be fooled. The stakes will be just as high over the next quarter-century as they were in the last, for the new disorder won't dissipate until the political map of the Middle East has been redrawn.

Here's how peace will spark upheaval: Middle Eastern governments will no longer be able to justify huge military expenditures (often made to secure their own rule) or defer public demands for more freedoms and better living conditions by invoking border defense, territorial mandates, nationalism or cultural honor. So they'll spend the next quarter-century confronting--or being confronted by--the forces already changing the rest of the world.

No capital will be exempt, from the world's oldest in Damascus to its newest in Palestine, from dusty Riyadh to scenic Rabat, from war-weary Beirut and Baghdad to sleepy Muscat and Manama, from landlocked Amman to seafront Algiers. Oh, and Jerusalem too. Syria, Libya and Iraq will witness the deepest transformations for the simple reason that their eccentric ideologies are the most bankrupt--and the most out of synch with their people. Their institutions are corrupt. And their economies are moribund.

Countries like Egypt and Algeria in the middle of the political spectrum are most vulnerable short term. Both took tepid steps toward democracy in open, multiparty elections in the 1980s, then marched backward in the 1990s. Both began the 21st century facing unprecedented social pressures from soaring populations they can't feed, educate, employ or house. Egypt, home to 67 million people (almost half the entire Arab world), produces an additional 1 million mouths to feed every eight months. In both countries, leaders have stalled on reforms. The result has been a decade of violence. More is to come.

Despite Western allies, the world's last bloc of true monarchies--Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, the little gulf sheikdoms, Morocco and Jordan--isn't off the hook either. Monarchy went out of political fashion in the 20th century. Most Arab dynasts have held on thanks to oil, isolation or tribal and family loyalties. But petrodollars also educated a generation now eager to connect with a globalizing world.

Then toss in technology. Courtesy of the borderless Internet, parties banned by Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Libya and Tunisia have websites and use e-mail for secret communications. Satellite receivers, nicknamed "couscous dishes" because they've become a household necessity, have changed Morocco's skyline--and access to ideas in the outside world. Al-Jazeera, a television station based in Qatar that is available throughout the Arab world, airs news--real news--and political debates as heated as anything on CNN's Crossfire.

But the next quarter-century will be so unsettling because it will require change more profound than anything witnessed during the overhaul of Eastern Europe's regimes or Latin America's military dictatorships. The Arabs will have to find a way to cross the threshold between tradition and modernity; they will have to find a formula that is true to both historic religious cultures and 21st century pluralism. In the West, it was the Christian Reformation that opened the way for the Age of Enlightenment and the introduction of modern liberal democracy based on individual rights. In the Middle East, it would amount to nothing less than an Islamic Reformation. And it's already well under way.

Islam will often be the idiom of political change because so many regimes have for so long excluded secular opposition. It's the most widespread alternative that provides a legal forum and a legitimate format, since Islam is the only major monotheistic religion that offers a set of specific rules to govern society as well as a set of spiritual beliefs. That doesn't mean more Iranian-style revolutions; Arabs are all too aware of the costs and repercussions of the Persians' revolt against 2,500 years of dynastic rule. But they're taking note of ideas put forward by Iran's energetic reformers and philosophers. Among the daring arguments: to be a true believer, one must come to the faith freely. Thus freedom precedes faith--a quantum leap for a religion whose name literally means "submission." The process will be divisive, for it will demand answers to existential questions of identity, belief and even the role of historic experience. In the end, Islam is more likely to be a vehicle for the transition, not necessarily the finished product. At the same time, don't expect the emergence of a string of liberal, Western-style democracies.

Israel will undergo its own confrontation over faith and identity. Politically, the country's founding ideology in the 20th century was Zionism, a predominantly socialist, secular and rather utilitarian ideology. In 21st century Israel, the two ends of the spectrum pit democrats, who support intense capitalism and a hedonistic Americanized culture, against fundamentalists, who cling to creating Greater Israel, as outlined in Abraham's covenant with God, and who want to impose strict religious regulations on everyday life.

Ethnically, the country was launched by European Ashkenazi Jews who looked to the West for inspiration. Because of demographics and immigration, Israeli society over the next quarter-century will increasingly be Sephardic Jews from the East--and Israeli Arabs whose families didn't flee in 1948. Without the imperative of security, Israel and the issue of its mission will get wrapped up in robust debates.

For the first decade of this new century, the Old Guard throughout the region will resist change. But by the time it's over, most of the big names--Syria's Hafez Assad, Egypt's Hosni Mubarak, Libya's Muammar Gaddafi, Saudi Arabia's King Fahd--will be gone. Who dares to speculate, however, about Saddam Hussein.

The leadership shift began in the late 1990s with the emergence of a new generation. Jordan is ruled by young King Abdullah, who watches Dharma & Greg and runs around in disguise to check out his government's performance. Syrian heir apparent Bashar Assad plays Faith Hill on a Walkman and, as chairman of the Syrian Computer Society, is bringing the information age to a controlled society, made so by his father. Qatar's Sheik Hamad bin Khalifa al-Thani ousted his father, opened up a cloistered society and then gave males--and females--the vote.

Each of them breaks the mold, but they are merely transition figures. A real Middle East peace will begin only with the emergence from the educated middle class of ordinary people who are allowed to vie freely for, win and be defeated in elective office--and thus end the pattern of leaders and elite courtiers in power for life.

Robin Wright's latest book is The Last Great Revolution: Turmoil and Transformation in Iran. She writes for the Los Angeles Times