Within the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, a quarter of the
world's proven oil reserves lie in 865,000 miles of largely empty
land, bordered on two sides by 1300 miles of coastline fronting two seas.
All this must be defended by a population of perhaps six million people,
three-quarters of whom are women, children, and the elderly. Saudi
Arabia's vulnerability to outside attack, on one hand, and internal chaos,
on the other, has haunted the kingdom since its inception. Through a
combination of internal control and consummate diplomatic skill, kings
Abdul Aziz and Faisal wound their way through the foreign and domestic
minefields surrounding them. Their successors have done less well.
Struggling with far more serious problems, the present leadership is
intimidated and confused in its response to the escalating threats to the
kingdom. Tied up in the recurring dilemma of balancing its own political
interests against the interests of the country, the Rouse of Saud keeps
the military fractured into several competing forces. These forces are, in
turn, overwhelmed by a grim shortage of manpower and a culture that
frustrates the basic requirements of military organization. Now facing
serious threats from Islamic fundamentalism spurred by Iran and the
hard-line Arab states and profoundly questioning the value of its alliance
with the United States, the House of Saud in a desperate attempt to defend
the kingdom has laid Saudi Arabia's security on the altar of high
technology, sold and serviced by the West.
The fragile military establishment in Saudi Arabia has always
played the dual role of defending the country and protecting the royal
family from its internal opponents. Historically, the House of Saud has
trusted its internal political interests to its Bedouin
army. What is now the National Guard, an integral part of the current
military structure of Saudi Arabia, was originally a military organization
formed from tribes loyal to the king and pledged to defend his personal
safety. The National Guard grew out of the 1929 Ikhwan revolt, which
nearly destroyed the regime of Abdul Aziz. The Ikhwan were fanatical
religious zealots who rose against the king when Abdul Aziz refused to
allow his former allies in the unification of the kingdom to stage tribal
raids beyond Saudi Arabia's borders. Fearing the raids would result in
armed conflict with the British in Iraq, Abdul Aziz gambled his kingdom by
turning on the rebellious Bedouins. It took
two years before Abdul Aziz crushed his enemies. The decisive battle took
place at Sibilla on March 29, 1929, and was "the last great Bedouin
battle ever fought, the last in the series which had continued since the
time of Abraham." * But the revolt was not to end until Abdul Aziz
mechanized his army. Word reached the king that the rebel leader, Faisal
al-Du wish, had once again mobilized his forces in the al-Hassa.
Commandeering every automobile from Mecca to Jeddah, Abdul Aziz's army
raced seven hundred miles across Saudi Arabia with no spare parts and no
mechanics. Although they arrived in the al-Hassa in broken-down wrecks
riding on their axles and held together with leather thongs, the sight of
an army no longer dependent on camels was enough to cripple the spirit of
the rebels, and the rebellion ended. Rather than punishing the
participants, Abdul Aziz settled the Ikhwan in communities and won their
loyalty by creating a select pseudo-military establishment that tied the sheikhs
and their sons to the power structure. Abdul Aziz's need to provide
these Nedji tribesmen with employment and cash in order to keep them in
their communities and loyal led him to institutionalize the ties of
suzerain and soldier in the form of the National Guard. Through the guard,
Abdul Aziz funneled money and favors to the major tribes to keep them
passive and his kingdom united.
The National Guard remains the most visible branch of the
military. Although the army, air force, and navy were strengthened after
the oil boom, the guard still dominates the showcase events in which the
king appears. As in ancient pageantry, dozens of men adorned in
rich-colored vests proudly sit, stirrup to stirrup, astride flawless white
Arabian horses. Above their heads, their green and white Wahhabi standards
flap in the wind. As the king approaches, they draw their mounts into a
rigid stance and grasp the hilts of the swords strapped at their sides.
Releasing from their throats the loud guttural cry of the desert warrior,
the guardsmen raise their drawn swords high above their heads in salute to
their ruler. So the Bedouin army remains a
kind of Praetorian guard for the House of Saud, the royal family's defense
of last resort against internal opposition.
* David Howardh, The Desert King: A Li" of Ibn Saud
(Beirut: Continental Publications, 1964), p. 168.
The Rouse of Saud assiduously cultivates its historic ties with
its tribal force. Once a year the King's Camel Race, held under the
auspices of the National Guard, gathers in the last of the Bedouins
still wandering the desert. There they pit the best of their camels in a
grueling eighteen-kilometer race across the moonscape plains of the Nejd.
Days before the actual race, the participants, many of whom have sons
serving in the National Guard, begin to collect. Gradually, the empty
spaces beyond Riyadh's ultramodern King Khalid International Airport fill
up. The camels, hundreds of them, are transported in from their grazing
grounds, somehow folded up in the back of their owners' dinky Toyota
pickups. In the camp, housing hundreds of people, veiled women hover near
their tents behind the smoldering campfires while children play amid the
cantankerous beasts on whose existence traditional society depended for
centuries.
On the day of the 1984 race I arrived early. Staking out a
choice spot on the crusty earthen hill that was the viewing stand for the
Westerners, I spread out my small rug. As if to confirm the constant
blending of old and new in Saudi Arabia, I was immediately approached by a
Pakistani offering me a sample cup of a new soft drink called "Coka."
Before I had finished swallowing the overly sweet cola, truckloads of
National Guardsmen began to arrive, taking their places near the finish
line. They were armed with small paddles, each with a number painted on
it. Their assignment was to meet the riders as they crossed the finish
line. As I watched, an officer carrying a swagger stick called the Bedouin
soldiers to attention. They lined up. Each man turned his head sharply to
the left and extended his arm to measure the distance to the next man.
They held this perfect formation approximately three minutes before they
began to sit down, a few at a time. Realizing what was happening, their
commander shouted, ordered them to their feet, and lined them up again,
over and over. Meanwhile, other guardsmen strutted and preened before the
stands.
Most of the day at a camel race is spent waiting for the racers
to appear. In good Saudi tradition, the race has no firm starting time.
Instead, the racers accumulate far out on the desert, and when they do
start it is two hours or more before they approach the finish line.
Sitting in the sun on my rug, I watched the crowd and waited. The first
clue that the camels were approaching was the excitement heralding the
arrival of King Fahd and his guests. The royal entourage, which had
followed the race across the desert, blazed by the viewing stand in one of
those big luxury cross-country buses, escorted by six red customized
Mercedes convertibles loaded with the king's armed guards. Just after
them, I saw a long cloud of dust preceded by a grand parade of camels.
They were running at full tilt in their absurd splay-legged gait, their
riders clinging precariously to the back of the great humps. The field of
approximately seven hundred made two passes in front of the spectator
stands, with the royal bus and armed escort streaking by in pursuit of the
leaders, before making the final pass toward the finish line.
Many of the camels refused to finish. The spent beasts balked as
their riders repeatedly hit them with their whips before climbing down and
leading their mounts off the track. One camel, the color of the dust that
covered it, collapsed, trapping its head under its enormous body. I
gasped, afraid it had died. But several Saudis on the sidelines dashed out
to right it. There it sat on its haunches, looking dazed and puzzled but
fit to race another day.
By this time I had also regrettably moved to the finish line.
When the sweating, foaming camels crossed the line, an overpowering stench
washed over the entire area. The fumes hit me, momentarily paralyzing my
sense of smell, only to be followed by another wave of the numbing odor.
The boyish riders, aged from about nine to fourteen, seemed immune to the
smell; all that mattered was that they had finished. Each of the top five
winners appeared before the king to receive his prize, which ranged from a
GM water truck, a thousand bags of barley, and SR 35,000 ($10,294) in cash
for first place, to a tent, seven hundred bags of barley, and SR 22,000
($6,470) for fifth place. (The newspapers somehow felt it necessary to
point out that the barley was for the camels.) The last I saw of the
champion, he was driving his bright red water truck home, his head barely
visible over the dash board.
The king departed, the expatriates boarded their buses, and the
Bedouins loaded their complaining camels back into their Toyotas and
struck their tents. They would return next year to renew their bond with
the House of Saud.
The great camel race is evidence that despite the sophisticated
hard ware that the oil boom bestowed on the National Guard, it has
retained many of the characteristics of its early history. And these were
the characteristics that served Abdul Aziz so well.
The Ikhwan, the precursor of the National Guard, provided Abdul
Aziz with an army that although untrained could be mobilized and
demobilized swiftly. The Bedouins were not
needed for prolonged campaigns since Abdul Aziz's chances of becoming
involved in a foreign war were small as long as he stayed within his own
borders and out of the way of the major powers in the area. Except for the
1934 border dispute with his southern neighbor, isolated internal
uprisings were the main threat to Abdul Aziz's rule. Therefore, a loosely
organized, poorly defined military establishment was in his best
interests. Conversely, a highly structured and visible military was not
only Unaffordable but dangerous. An armed force with its own structure and
staffed by people with a vested interest in the power of their
organization did not fit Abdul Aziz's own unique political equation.
Nevertheless, the resumption of oil production at the end of the Second
World War forced Abdul Aziz and his successors to begin to think about
protecting themselves from the events swirling on their borders.
To keep its enemies off guard, the House of Saud traditionally
has kept the whole military structure clouded in shadowy obscurity.
Outsiders had little knowledge of Saudi Arabia's defense capabilities
until after World War II, when in 1950 an American military
advisory group arrived in Riyadh to help Abdul Aziz organize his meager
armed forces. But the Americans were not the first to attempt to bring
some order to the Saudi military. The British, who had arrived six years
earlier, had left in disgust when their mission was rendered impossible by
the complexities of Saudi politics and culture. The frustrated British
military experts found themselves unable to recruit adequate officer
material, a situation compounded by the arbitrary granting of commissions
to the king's relatives and friends. The already inadequate funds Abdul
Aziz allocated for equipment routinely disappeared in the pipeline of
corruption. The final blow came when the movements of the British mission
within the country and its contacts with Saudi troops were all but
forbidden for fear it might discover information Abdul Aziz chose to keep
to himself. When the American mission arrived, the number of Saudi troops
was still unknown, even though a nine-month survey of the Saudi defense
establishment preceded the Americans' arrival. Three years later, they
were able to estimate that there were probably some where between
seventy-five hundred and ten thousand regular army troops. Another ten
thousand might be commandeered from the king's personal guard,
paramilitary police, and the Bedouins who were on the king's levy. By the
time the Americans had formulated their estimates, the knowledge of the
numbers and location of troops loyal to the House of Saud had taken on
added urgency. The first challenge to the al Sauds' rather cavalier
military strategy came from a combination of the founding of the state of
Israel and the rise of Arab nationalism under the sway of Egypt's Gamal
Abdul Nasser.
Saud ibn Abdul Aziz became king of Saudi Arabia in the year
following Nasser's 1952 seizure of power in Egypt. Nasser's
charisma among the Arab masses and his emotional appeal to Arab
nationalism would buffet Saudi Arabia both internally and externally
throughout Saud's reign and into Faisal's. Representing the Saudis' first
confrontation with revolutionary Arab politics aimed at pulling down the
Middle East's conservative monarchies, Nasser was the prelude to what has
been Saudi Arabia's major foreign threat until Iran's Ayatollah Khomeini
entered the scene.
Initially attracted to Nasser as a check against any move
Jordan's King Hussein might make to regain the Hashemite kingdom his grand
father lost to Abdul Aziz, * Saud invited the Egyptians to send a military
training mission to Dhahran to try its hand at organizing the Saudi
military. It was a move the House of Saud soon regretted. While Saudi
Arabia was keeping a wary eye on Jordan, Nasser was moving toward rabid
revolutionary rhetoric against the monarchies of the Middle East. Nasser's
message took root in the kingdom, leading to a 1955 coup attempt by
Saudi army officers against the House of Saud. King Saud mobilized his
tribal army against the regular army, hastily patched up relations with
Jordan, and turned for protection to the United States, a major opponent
of Nasser and the developer of Saudi Arabia's petroleum industry. It was
in the Nasser era that the strategic relationship between the United
States and Saudi Arabia was born. For the next twenty-five years, the
American option would serve as the underpinning of all of the Saudis'
defense thinking.
*Britain failed to support its ally, the Sherif Hussein, against
Abdul Aziz during his drive to unify Saudi Arabia. Instead, Hussein's sons
Abdullah and Faisal were placed on the thrones of the British mandates of
Transjordan and Iraq.
But the American military guarantee could not protect Saudi
Arabia from Nasser's ideology. In 1962 Saudi Arabia faced yet
another threat from Egypt, this time along the kingdom's southern border
in Yemen. A Nasser-inspired military coup in Yemen overthrew the
traditional ruler, the Imam Badr. Fleeing to the north of the country, the
imam gathered an army of friendly tribesmen for his defense. To
bolster its stand Egypt poured an expeditionary force into Aden and
southern Yemen. Alarmed that Nasser's troups would march north into Saudi
Arabia, the House of Saud found itself facing its first serious foreign
threat. The crisis had all the elements the House of Saud fears most: the
defenselessness of the kingdom, the threat of revolution against its rule
from its own military, and dangerous dissension within the royal family.
The crisis in Yemen is deserving of some detailed scrutiny because Saudi
anxieties and behavior during the war and its associated events have come
to characterize the House of Saud's diplomacy and its military responses
to all threats against the kingdom ever since.
To begin with, the al-Sauds were confused about how they should
respond to the challenge. The House of Saud is always burdened with the
possibility that a military defeat of its national army might lead to the
renunciation of the king. Like a tribal sheikh, a king no longer
regarded as able to provide for the security of his people falls victim to
his rivals. For the House of Saud to send in an undisciplined, poorly
equipped army against the Egyptian army invited defeat, which in turn
invited revolution. Consequently, the House of Saud was willing, as it
continues to be willing, to go to any lengths to avoid armed conflict. The
second problem to emerge from the confrontation with Egypt was the split
in the Saudi royal family. Again, this is characteristic of the House of
Saud in times of stress over foreign threats. This episode of disunity
simply happened to be more public than others. Prince Talal ibn Abdul Aziz
and several other princes had been exiled from Saudi Arabia after they
publicly called for a constitutional government that would impose
restraints on the power of the royal family. Talal and the other royal
dissidents who formed the Committee of Free Princes established themselves
in Cairo prior to the coup in Yemen, apparently to be in readiness to
claim leadership of Saudi Arabia if the Yemen adventure drove Saud and
Faisal from power. *
*The House of Saud has an interesting way of handling its
opponents. Abdul Aziz decided early on to make his enemies allies by
returning them like lost sheep to the fold. Prince Talal and the Free
Princes were eventually brought home, and Talal himself now holds an
honored and visible position in the royal hierarchy.
But Saudi Arabia never went to war. Recognizing his country
could not defeat Egypt, Faisal, crown prince and acting head of government
at the time, used the kingdom's oil income to hire surrogates from among
the tribes of northern Yemen to hold off the Egyptians. Having bought off
Saudi Arabia's opponents in Yemen, which also fended off the challenge of
the Free Princes, Faisal moved to divide the kingdom's military forces in
order to keep the military weak and, therefore, out of politics.
While the disarranged army and cursory air force muddled along,
the tribal levies, * numbering somewhere between ten thousand and sixteen
thousand men plus an undetermined reserve force, became noticeably better
organized. Still, they were equipped only with light arms, were largely
untrained, and had little transport. Since they were considered loyal to
the king, they were assigned the important jobs of guarding the Tapline
(the major oil pipeline) and other strategic points not trusted to the
army.
The Royal Guard, the elite of the military, had about
twenty-seven hundred men, who were regarded by American intelligence
sources as crack troops. The guard clustered around the king and existed
solely for the protection of the House of Saud. Its members had received
more training than any other branch of the military and possessed enough
equipment to overpower the National Guard. The two together could roll
over the ragtag army. This completed the military scheme. The National
Guard checked the Royal Guard, which checked the army. No opponent could
challenge the king without controlling at least two of these three
independent forces.
The system worked. During the final episode of the succession
struggle between Saud and Faisal, the divided military prevented Saud from
staying in power against the wishes of most of the royal family. In 1964
Saud tried to reclaim the throne by calling out the Royal Guard and
deploying it around his pink palace. The National Guard declared its
support of Faisal while the army stayed neutral. Consequently, neither
brother was in control of two of the three components of power. The
stand-off ended when the commander of Saud's Royal Guard was surprised and
captured by officers of the National Guard who arrived at his home in
Riyadh's minuscule fleet of taxicabs.
With Saud finally gone and Faisal firmly in control, the
military was reorganized once again. The Royal Guard was disbanded and the
main body incorporated into the National Guard. The core, which still acts
as personal guards of the king, went into the Ministry of the Interior.
This new ministry hecame yet another element in the power configura tion.
Its power is derived from its control of the Department of Public Security
(the police), the Frontier Guards, the Coast Guard, and royal
intelligence. Leaving the National Guard, or tribal force, as its own
entity, Faisal also created the Ministry of Defense and Aviation (MODA)
made up of the army, navy, and air force. To govern over the new military
structure, the king appointed his conservative brother Abdul lah as
commander of the National Guard and his progressive brother Sultan as
minister of Defense and Aviation, positions both still hold. Fahd, the
future king, became minister of the Interior.
* Variously called the white Army or the National Guard.
By 1967 the House of Saud had emerged intact from the war in
Yemen and the internal crises it had triggered within the kingdom. Nasser
had been forced to withdraw his support from Yemen because of his
calamitous defeat in the 1967 war with Israel. The question of what to do
about Saud's incompetent rule was finally settled. And a military equation
that protected the House of Saud from its opponents had been formulated
and put in place. The problem with the new structure - a problem that has
never been solved - was that in trying to combine the administrative needs
of the military with measures de signed to secure the power and privileges
of the thousands of members of the royal family, Saudi Arabia wound up
with a military that could not defend the country. This was of little
concern to the House of Saud, for the confirmation of Faisal's wisdom in
organizing the military in such a way that a coup d'etat against the
ruling house was almost impossible was not long in coming.
In May 1969 a Nasser-inspired group colluded with
segments of the Saudi military in a scheme to overthrow the House of Saud
and replace it with a republic. Before the plan could be executed, the
plot was discovered. The National Guard went on alert and the internal
security forces in the Ministry of the Interior went after the culprits.
As the layers of the Arab Nationalist Movement, the group responsible for
the coup attempt, were peeled away, officers of the army and air force
were exposed. Among them were sixty air force officers, the director of
the Air Force Academy in Dhahran, the director of military operations,
commanders of the military garrisons of the al-Hassa and Mecca, and a
minor prince from the Sudairi family. The discovery of the plot led to
waves of arrests and dismissals of officers of the regular military and
senior civil servants. Although the rumor was unconfirmed, many believed
the leaders were flown over the Empty Quarter and pushed out. Considering
the seriousness with which the House of Saud regards challenges to its
power, it was plausible that all might have suffered excessive
punishments. But on one of my excursions into a hareem, I met a
stunning Saudi woman in her mid-fifties who disproved the theory.
I had become engaged in conversation with the woman because I
was fascinated to learn that although she had been married for many years
she had always had a job, putting her in the vanguard of Saudi career
women. Casually, I asked her what type of work her husband did. She
lowered her head perceptibly and said he was "in business."
Sensing she was going to say something else, I waited. She shifted
slightly on the soft sofa and then looked directly at me, her eyes probing
mine. "He used to be an important officer in the military until he
was arrested during the trouble in 1969." I was so astonished that
she would mention the episode at all, much less her husband's involvement
in it, that I said nothing in response. Perhaps because of my silence, she
again went on. Looking away from me toward a wall across the room, she
related her tale in the tone of a philosophical journey through the past.
Her husband had been arrested by the internal security forces and spent
six years in jail somewhere in the central part of the country. She and
her children were allowed to visit him from time to time. Other than being
confined, he was treated well. She even spoke kindly of King Khalid, who
had released her husband, along with the others involved in the plot,
during the amnesty following Faisal's assassination. When she finished her
story, she looked at me once more and said, almost passionately, "You
know, none of the men wanted to overthrow the king. They just wanted to do
things differently."
On the eve of the oil embargo, the al-Sauds had their house once
more back in order. But two important truths about Saudi Arabia's military
lingered as a result of the events surrounding the war in Yemen, the
succession struggle, and the 1969 coup attempt. Both are still valid. The
first was that Saudi Arabia discovered it was powerless in a military
confrontation with its neighbors. Militarily, its troops and supplies were
too limited to be an effective fighting force, and politically, the House
of Saud could not chance a fight it would probably lose without risking
revolution from its opponents at home. Second, the rivalries within the
royal family coupled with threats to its rule from dissident elements
within the kingdom mandated that the military forces be split so no one
organization could dominate. One military force checking the other was
good internal politics but left Saudi Arabia defenseless against foreign
threats. Although bestowing great wealth on the kingdom, the 1973 oil
embargo in some ways only increased the kingdom's security problems. No
longer could it stand on the edges of the caldron of Arab politics. Its
oil resources and its wealth forced it to become a player in the Arab
struggle against Israel, and at the same time, whether the Saudis wanted
to acknowledge it or not, Saudi Arabia became more dependent than ever on
the United States for the technical and military assistance it needed to
build any viable defense. The only thing the oil boom did not change was
the kingdom's fundamental defense objectives.
Since 1948 Saudi Arabia has had three consistent security goals.
The first is to keep Yemen disunited and weak so that it can neither
recover the Assir lost to Abdul Aziz or be used by a foreign power as a
base of operation against Saudi Arabia from the south. The second is to
shore up the vulnerability of the oil fields to protect them from
encroachment by a foreign power. The third of Saudi Arabia's security
objectives, and the most difficult to orchestrate, is to maintain a stance
against Israel that insulates the kingdom from the hostility of its Arab
neighbors while at the same time allowing it to nurture its defense
alliance with the United States. Despite all of its sudden wealth after 1973,
Saudi Arabia quickly recognized that it was unable to translate money
into military power. Its dearth of manpower, the technical ineptitude of
its population, the political considerations of the House of Saud, and the
dictates of the Saudis' own culture conspired to keep Saudi Arabia
impotent. What the oil embargo did accomplish was to give the Saudis
enough credit with its Arab neighbors to move ahead with its defense plans
based on the American guarantee of security.
In 1974 Saudi Arabia adopted a ten-year military preparedness
plan drawn up by its American allies. Under its provisions, the army by
1984 would increase from 45,000 men to 72,000; the air force from
14,000 to 22,000; and the navy from a few hundred men with
almost no ships to 3,900 seagoing sailors. The National Guard was
to stay at 35,000 men. Even with its expanded numbers, the armed forces
would remain pitifully small, spread out across the kingdom's great land
mass. No one envisioned Saudi Arabia fighting a war. The pivot of defense
strategy was to adequately arm the Saudis so they could defend themselves
long enough for their allies to arrive. The American plan sought to
overcome as much as possible the lack of manpower by creating relatively
small but highly mechanized land, air, and sea forces heavily endowed with
fire power, ground and air mobility, strong air support, and the best
infrastructure money could buy. By depending on high-tech weapons Systems
rather than manpower, Saudi Arabia was to purchase its security from the
West. In building the protective shield, Riyadh, al-Kharj, and Dhahran
would be molded into one defensive triangle; Jeddah, Taif, and Mecca into
another. The four corners of the kingdom, largely empty in '973, would
literally be filled up with new or expanded military facilities. With the
Empty Quarter employed as a buffer zone, Khamis Mushayt was designed to
repel an attack from the Yemens. Tabuk, the main air base, looked toward
conflicts centering around Israel. And at Hafar al-Batin a whole city
would be built to create some defense on the empty plain that runs from
the border with Iraq directly to Riyadh.
It was with the King Khalid Military City at Hafar al-Batin that
the Saudis would test their ability to turn money into security. In 1976
Saudi Arabia began raising a city for a projected seventy thousand
inhabitants out of a spot that is so isolated and so inhospitable that an
unearthly aura hangs over it. Sitting in a wadi in the middle of a
stark, barren desert, it is three hundred and fifty miles from Riyadh and,
when construction began, four hundred miles from the nearest port. Its
isolation made a staggering problem of logistics for men and materials.
Building stocks were blocked in the congested ports or sat on the docks
because there were no trucks to transport them to the site. Although the
first men on the site worked out of tents, the mass of workers needed for
construction of the permanent buildings could not be recruited until
support facilities were in place. Unbearable heat and sand storms raged
for days. In addition to all of this, the Saudis threw their own stumbling
blocks in the way. There was a rule that no aerial photographs intended to
locate sources of gravel could be taken for security reasons. The use of
short-wave radios was so restricted by the military that communications
were next to impossible. There were bureaucratic tie-ups within the bowels
of the Ministry of Defense and Aviation. The already severe labor
shortages were made even worse by the Saudis' reluctance to use labor from
any country suffering political unrest. And there were the ever-present
visa problems. In just one instance, experts needed to fire up the
generators that were to supply the site's major source of power refused to
return to the kingdom. On a previous trip when they were sent by the
American electrical equipment supplier to Saudi Arabia for two weeks, they
found their stay forcibly extended for two months when the Saudis denied
them exit visas to keep them on the job. The mutinous employees complained
about their "shabby treatment" and that "slavery went out a
hundred years ago," assailing their employer with a torrent of
expletives. When I was typing and filing at the Corps of Engineers, I
remember seeing an intercorps telex from the United States reporting on
the progress in coaxing these experts back to Saudi Arabia. The go-between
bluntly stated, "I get the impression these guys don't think much of
playing with camels and walking barefooted in the sand."
The King Khalid Military City was in the early stages of
construction when I finessed a permit to visit the site in late 1978. Very
early in the morning, I arrived at the far end of the runway of the Riyadh
airport to board the six-seater plane that ferried contractors,
construction supervisors, and officials from the Ministry of Defense and
Aviation (MODA) between Riyadh and al-Batin. The flight that morning was
full, as it was every time it made the run, since the cadres of people
demanded by such a mammoth construction project fought to get aboard.
Ducking my head in the cramped cabin space, I took a seat facing a Saudi
from MODA, who eyed me curiously but never spoke. The other passengers
were contractors and engineers, who also ignored me, sensing, no doubt,
that my presence was highly irregular. As soon as we were buckled in our
seats, the motors sputtered to life, shaking the plane as the rpms
mounted. We had barely cleared the ground before we were out over the
desert. As the engines groaned through the dusty air for the next hour, I
saw absolutely nothing below me except for the bleached gray of the packed
sand of Saudi Arabia's northeastern desert. Not until the twin propellers
of the small plane slowed signaling our descent did I spot the naked strip
of black asphalt that marked al-Batin. The plane taxied to a stop on the
empty runway, and I stepped out into what seemed like endless nothingness.
Then I spotted my contact, signaling to me from underneath a ten-gallon
hat. We hurried out of the sun and climbed into his four-wheel-drive
vehicle, where I met the others responsible for my presence on what the
Saudis liked to think of as a highly secretive military site.
AI-Batin was desolate. Except for a Bedouin
camp on the edge of the construction site, the only sign of life I saw
outside the small cluster of construction trailers was a stray donkey
startled by the noise of the jeep. As we jarred over dirt roads that
appeared to come from nowhere and connect to nowhere, my escorts pointed
out small blue flags, barely visible, that marked the sites of future
buildings. Construction, then in its second year, was expected to take
five more, at an estimated cost of $1 billion per year. We eventually
arrived at a stark obelisk that marked "Centrum," the center
point of the future city, which someday would fan out in interlocking
octagons of head quarters, housing, shops, mosques, and maintenance and
training facilities. Leaving Centrum, I saw six Pakistanis standing next
to a wheelbarrow and a hole in the ground that would someday be the
maintenance shed for the sophisticated tanks scheduled to be stationed
there. Another spot had a small motor perking along, drawing up water.
This would someday be the water plant for the whole city. Looking at the
advance cadre of construction workers and engineers clawing their way into
the hostile desert, I thought it hardly seemed possible that they could
build a city in this environment. Yet I knew that with enough money the
Saudis could accomplish miraculous things. And so it was. The King Khalid
Military City was eventually inaugurated by King Fahd in 1985, two
years later than scheduled. After spending in excess of $5.2 billion on
construction to house fifty thousand people, the total number of men in
the entire Saudi army at the time it opened was no more than twenty-five
thousand.
AI-Batin was more a monument to the dream of turning wealth into
protection than it was a viable military establishment. But its
construction had barely begun when the military and economic planners were
already envisioning the expenditure of $100 billion on defense during the
upcoming Third Development Plan. Most of this money was designated for
infrastructure projects for every branch of the military. And much of the
money would not be spent wisely. At al-Batin, away from the dirt and
noise, beyond the cramped barracks of the manual laborers and the spartan
trailers housing the engineers, the temporary VIP villas stood alone.
Built especially to house King Khalid and his immediate entourage for one
night when the KKMC site was dedicated, the villas had cost $3,246,352,
including the accessories flown in from Tiffany's in New York.
The 1974 defense plan of which al-Batin was a component part was
the most comprehensive and ambitious move Saudi Arabia had ever made in
its own defense. Yet it had serious weaknesses, weaknesses that were
inescapable for a country that had little to defend itself with except
money. By adopting high technology as a basic strategy, Saudi Arabia
bought a military structure that required absolute organization and
technically sophisticated officers, administrators, and soldiers. These
were qualities the Saudis lacked and that plagued every area of
development Saudi Arabia undertook. But it was in the military perhaps
more than any other sector of the new Saudi Arabia where Saudi culture so
dramatically conflicted with modernization.
There is no military tradition in Saudi Arabia and little
commitment to the concept of the nation-state. As fiercely independent
individuals who survived on the desert for centuries with nothing but
their own wits and fortitude, the Saudis are not about to submit to the
discipline of the army. Family and tribe remain the center of any Saudi's
existence, and for this reason it is difficult to keep the military
recruits the country does have at their posts. Unit assignments are
haphazard, as commanders respond to special requests from relatives or
people in positions of power to place a particular man in a particular
post. Then his assignment might never make it onto a central registry. If
an alert is issued, both soldiers and commanders are left with no idea of
where to report. Emergency situations become chaotic because so little
importance is placed on routine training. The air force commonly has only
25 percent of its pilots appear at scrambling exercises and being absent
without leave is an accepted military tradition in all branches of the
armed forces. When the army was mobilized in March 1979 to meet the
threat posed to Saudi Arabia by clashes between North and South Yemen, the
first order of business was to issue frantic calls for missing soldiers
who had simply drifted off. While U.S. military personnel were taking up
stations in Riyadh, the only visible sign I saw of the Saudis' military
alert was a lone truck pulling the Ramadan cannon down the main road to
Mecca.
Since concerns beyond today have little place in the national
psyche, maintenance depends more on Allah's will than it does on his
suppliants. Lack of routine care turns sophisticated hardware into useless
junk. This endless crisis of maintenance is not as much a matter of
ability as of commitment. The forceful status system within the culture
forbids a Saudi to work with his hands. As a result, Saudis can be trained
to be excellent pilots but service and repair of their aircraft depend on
the large numbers of foreign workers imported for almost all military
support functions. If for no other reason, Saudi Arabia's defense
strategy, built around sophisticated weapons requiring exacting upkeep, is
fatally flawed by Saudi attitudes toward maintenance. Overall, the officer
class is well trained and motivated. Yet no matter how competent the
officer corps, Saudi Arabia's forces lack numbers and depth. While there
is no problem in recruiting pilots to fly F-4s and F- 155, there is a
chronic shortage of pilots for the forty-eight C-130 transport planes that
tie the kingdom's defenses together. The lower in rank, the less competent
and committed is the military man. Although there is as little glory in
being a foot soldier in Saudi Arabia as there is anywhere else in the
world, building morale is enormously complicated by the fact that those
soldiers are basically Bedouin in their
attitudes and patterns of behavior and not easily welded into cogs in a
late-twentieth-century defense force. The contrast between the educated,
status-conscious officer corps and the troops is no more graphically
depicted than by the street vignette in which I saw an officer impeccably
attired in his tailored uniform standing next to a private who was making
his last stand for independence by refusing to put shoelaces in his combat
boots.
The cultural constraints on military preparedness further
aggravate the basic organizational nightmare inherent in the division of
the military. The entire military structure is plagued by a shocking lack
of coordination, both at the highest levels of command and between the
branches. At the same time that it is committed to high technology that
has cost billions of dollars, the kingdom's military is paralyzed by the
rivalry between the religiously conservative National Guard and the
generally progressive armed forces. They compete with each other for
everything from elaborate officers clubs and favors from the king to
legitimate requests for needed military hardware, thereby draining away
both manpower and resources. Nevertheless, in the eyes of the mon archy,
the long record of military coups in the volatile Middle East spearheaded
by ambitious young officers proves the wisdom of keep ing military power
equally divided between fiercely competing groups.
The National Guard, now numbering in the neighborhood of twenty
thousand men, remains the most politically powerful division of the
military. The ruling regime continues to rely on the tribal origins and
the financial prerogatives of the guard to keep it loyal to the House of
Saud. Coveted positions within the officer corps of the guard are se cured
through the influence of fathers who have, in turn, proved their loyalty
to the crown. Promotions of enlisted men are made by the commander, Prince
Abdullah, while promotions of officers are made by the king himself.
Although the National Guard originally filled a largely ceremonial role,
it is now a heavily equipped, full-blown military machine.
The National Guard was not directly covered by the 1974 defense
plan because of the House of Saud's insistence on keeping the affairs of
the guard completely separate from the affairs of the regular military.
Therefore, in March 1973, a seven-year agreement was con cluded
between Saudi Arabia and the United States that put the U.S. Department of
Defense in charge of three private American contractors hired to modernize
the guard. At a cost of $335 million (raised to $1.9 billion in
1976), the guard's twenty battalions would be mechanized into infantry
battalions with their own artillery support and air defense capability for
its internal security functions and to back up the army in case of a
foreign invasion. The Vinnell Corporation of Los Angeles, California, one
of the contractors, hired a number of Vietnam veterans, largely logistics
experts rather than Rambo-type mercenaries, to train the Saudis to be
modern soldiers. *
The efforts are paying off. My first impression of the guard was
of disheveled Bedouins who had been taken
out of their thobes and put in an alien attire of pants, shirts,
and combat boots. Looking more confused than competent, they slouched
against walls or sprawled in the nearest shade, oblivious to military
order or mission. Guard members now look comfortable, even snappy, in
their olive drab uniforms topped by the traditional red and white gutra,
held in place by an agal sporting the guard's insignia. When
they are on parade, they march in unison and salute on command, at least
most of the time. But although it is housed in impressive new headquarters
and armed with sophisticated new weaponry, the guard, despite outward
appearances, still re mains in attitude a Bedouin
army.
I had been hearing from my friends at the National Guard
Hospital near Riyadh about a malady among guardsmen that the impatient
medics had dubbed the "Dead Soldier Syndrome." According to the
re ports, it occurs when guardsmen are lined up to do calisthenics and
presents itself as a type of hysteria where the patient feels faint and
becomes stiff as a board. Arriving at the hospital by the busload, the
victims are rushed into the emergency room, where they instantly kick off
their shoes, open their pants flies, and yell "I need air."
Believing the doctors and nurses were kidding, I stationed myself in the
emergency room of the National Guard Hospital one day. Within an hour, the
wide glass doors of the ambulance entrance swung open in a flurry of
excitement, and a soldier, escorted by five comrades, shuffled in stiffly,
leaning on a wheelchair. Through the shouting and gesturing flowing from
the group, I realized that the man clutching the wheel chair was claiming
that his limbs had become paralyzed by the day's exercise drill. It was an
authentic case of "DSS" precipitated by the man's affront at
being required to do physical training. As an orderly motioned him toward
an examining room, he straightened his stiffened neck, looked around him,
and announced to all within hearing that he was a Bedouin,
a man of honor.
- *One of the things Saudi Arabia got for its money was a
cadre of experts from the United States who trained the Saudis in the
art of desert survival.
The other arm of the modern military is the Ministry of Defense
and Aviation, which administers the army, navy, and air force. Though it
has a force larger than that of the National Guard, it does not enjoy the
same political clout. Because the officer corps provides an appealing
career choice for status-seeking young men without connections, its
members come largely from the urban middle class, which is outside the
network of family and tribal relationships that runs the country. The
troops are primarily drawn from lower class non-Nejdis or former slaves.
Since its personnel is drawn from groups who have a high potential for
social discontent, the army is almost invisible in Saudi Arabia. Stationed
in military cities near the border areas, the army is kept outside the
strategic areas and therefore, the government hopes, outside the political
arena.
The army can probably be managed. It is the air force that the
House of Saud truly fears. Flying jets is an appealing career choice for
the status-conscious Saudis. The air force attracts the elite of the
military recruits. Young, traveled, and often Western-educated, pilots are
more outspoken than any branch of the military about the excesses of the
royal family. Their hostility to the top echelon is not as great as their
resentment of the second and third tiers of royal relatives that continue
to increase geometrically and which still demand their share of royal
revenues. To maintain its critical viability in the defense of the kingdom
while at the same time protecting the royal family against military coups,
the air force is staffed as much as possible by bright young men from the
House of Saud. The remaining positions are filled by men chosen more for
their loyalty than their ability. To further frustrate potential coups
emanating from the air force, commandants and wing commanders are
constantly rotated, making it difficult for them to build up personal
loyalties among the men they command.
Although it is usually assumed that the National Guard is the
balance to the army and air force, it actually requires the combined re
sources of the Ministry of the Interior with those of the National Guard
to make the comparison of the relative strength of the tribal army and the
regular forces valid. The Ministry of Interior through its command of the
border guards and the civilian police has the capacity to put a
significant force in the field. But it is through its control of the
intelligence apparatus, the secret police, that the ministry's shadowy
presence is most strongly felt. Ever since rebels seized the Grand Mosque
at Mecca in November 1979, internal security forces have been draining
manpower from the military. It is as if every time the military is used in
a defensive capacity, it is reorganized in the hope that the new power
configuration will create security. One of the government documents I saw
while working on the Third Development Plan revealed that the Ministry of
Interior in 1979 had more than 42,000 men engaged in actual
fieldwork, supported by another 22,000 civil service employees. The
ministry's manpower request for 1985 was a staggering 115,000, more
than the army, navy, and air force combined.
The discovery of the duplicity of some elements of the National
Guard in the Mecca uprising sent shivers through the royal family. The
assumption had always been that the armed forces, not the House of Saud's
own militia, would be the source of any insurrection. Although the major
contingent of the National Guard stayed loyal, it appeared to spend as
much time fighting the army as it did the rebels. And the competition for
glory between their commanders paralyzed what operations were launched
against the rebels. Commanders screamed conflicting orders to confused
troops. The National Guard, the army, and security forces, if they fought
at all, fought as individuals not units. It was the minister of Defense
and Aviation, Prince Sultan, acting as a field commander, who finally
bestowed order on the mass of confusion. The army and the National Guard
performed so poorly at Mecca that King Khalid subsequently created a
twelve-hundred-man special antiterrorist unit, which was equipped with
helicopters and placed under the control of the Ministry of the Interior.
Besides keeping the military broken down into its component
parts, loyalties to the royal family in all branches of the military are
cultivated as other political loyalties are cultivated, with money and
privileges. With the air force leading the way, officers are provided
generous salaries and quality housing and treated to a whole range of
fringe benefits. The first well-designed and well-constructed building to
go up in Riyadh after the oil boom was the Officers' Club on Airport Road.
Every time I passed by, its quiet dignity elicited a kind of awe amid the
junky buildings that surrounded it. Looking like a country club in Palm
Springs, it is heavily staffed with foreign waiters, who set the tables
with gold-plated flatware and Limoges china. Now after a decade of heavy
investment in the military infrastructure, every branch of the armed
forces possesses impressive headquarters, academies, and sports facilities
reserved for the exclusive use of the kingdom's guardians. The physical
benefits that each branch of the military enjoys reflects to some extent
the political power of its commander. For not only are the kingdom's
military forces divided to protect the House of Saud against its enemies,
they are divided to protect the royal family against itself.
In Saudi Arabia, where religion is politics, the military is
part of the constant tension generated by the struggle between the
religious conservatives and the progressives. Discord frequently rages
within the mammoth royal family, where each camp possesses its own
military power.
Prince Abdullah, commander of the National Guard, is King Fahd's
half brother and is assumed to be next in line for the throne. Abdullah,
regardless of his royal lineage, is pure Bedouin
in his attitudes, making him beloved by his troops and the religious
fundamentalists. The minister of Defense and Aviation, Prince Sultan, is a
full brother of Fahd's and Abdullah's major rival. The Ministry of the
Interior is under the control of Prince Naif, also Fahd's full brother but
one who also has strong ties with the tribes. While Khalid was king,
rumors periodically ran rampant about a new outbreak in the power struggle
between Ab dullah and Sultan backed by Fahd. When Fahd became king, the
major conflict was believed to be between the king and Abdullah. On at
least two occasions alter Fahd assumed the throne, stories surfaced and
were reported by the Western press that Fahd and Abdullah had engaged in
an altercation in which one or the other had been shot. Prince Abdullah
told Dan that one rumor had started when he was seen at Shamaizy Hospital
visiting a friend. There are rows, but neither man is known to have been
injured in what are probably verbal battles. Rather, the wild tales and
the subsequent disclaimers confirm the existence of in tense rivalries
among members of the upper echelon of the House of Saud, supported by
various factions within the family. Insiders believe that the progressives
were poised for a showdown with the conservatives when it was all
interrupted by the 1979 takeover of the Grand Mosque in Mecca,
forcing the family to pull together for survival.
Compelled to mend their fences with the National Guard after the
uprising, the traditionalists in the House of Saud were once more on the
ascendancy, causing Abdullah to rise noticeably in the public arena.
Suddenly Abdullah's picture was everywhere. Rather successfully ig nored
during the height of the oil boom as an embarrassment to the family,
Abdullah was now obviously a public relations ploy for the House of Saud.
His visits to the King Faisal hospital took on a certain fanfare, and the
hospital's medical research center launched a study of diseases among the
Saker falcons with which Abdullah hunts. After Khalid died, Abdullah,
rather than being passed over by the Sudairi Seven, became crown prance
apparently unopposed. Perhaps more interesting was that he retained his
.command of the National Guard. There had been intense speculation that
Abdullah would be forced to relinquish command of the guard on becoming
crown prince. Instead, he gathered in both the political title as second
to the king and the military position as commander of a major force in the
military equation, one primarily responsible for protecting the royal
family.
Before the oil boom and into the latter years of the 1970's, the
royal family regarded its fragmented military establishment and its lack
of military preparedness as a desirable thing. Internally, it preserved
the political system. Externally, Saudi Arabia made no pretense of being a
military power and obviously posed no real threat to its neighbors. But
conditions had changed and Saudi Arabia was no longer an isolated desert
kingdom. On the heels of its sudden wealth, forces beyond its borders
began to draw Saudi Arabia into the whirlpool of international power
politics. Avoiding any move that would make the kingdom a target of
Israel, the Saudis still had to be concerned about leftist elements in the
Arab world and clients of the Soviet Union. Saudi Arabia's rulers found
themselves facing a dilemma: a weak military was good politics, but was it
good self-defense? Whether the House of Saud wanted to or not, the
external situation demanded that manpower and weaponry be increased so
that Saudi Arabia could forge some semblance of a defense force. But in
the end, no matter what the Saudis did to arm themselves, the defense of
the kingdom depended on the intervention of a foreign power. As the decade
of the 1970's drew to a close, the manpower projections of the 1974
defense plan were obviously falling short. Although every time an
external crisis arose there was talk of a military draft, everyone knew it
was politically unacceptable to institute and impossible to administer.
The use of foreign mercenaries was explored, but the House of Saud's
paranoia and xenophobia made this unacceptable except in the most limited
situations. Still depending on the strategy of the 1974 defense
plan, the Saudis if attacked expected to employ delaying tactics until the
Iranians, the backbone of United States strategy in the Arabian Gulf,
arrived, followed ultimately by the Americans. By 1980, in the after math
of the Iranian revolution, the political scene had changed so drastically
that the underlying assumptions of the 1974 plan were dead.
Saudi Arabia's confidence in the reliability of the American
defense commitment began to collapse when the Soviets made their moves on
the horn of Africa. Despite dire warnings from the Saudis, the Carter
administration essentially ignored the introduction of troops and sup
plies from the Soviet bloc into Ethiopia in 1977. By the following year,
the Marxists were in control of vital real estate directly across the Red
Sea from the Arabian Peninsula. While north, across the Arabian Gulf,
alarm bells were ringing in Afghanistan, which were heard in Saudi Arabia
long before the message reached Washington. The blatancy of the Soviet
attack on fighters of the Afghan mujahideen finally captured the
attention of the Carter administration as to the realities of Soviet power
politics around the gulf. Regardless of the success in arousing the
American giant, Afghanistan remained a frightening reminder of the
vulnerability of militarily weak states.
These were symptoms of instability in the gulf. The real threat
to Saudi Arabia came when the kingdom's relationship to Iran and the
United States was fundamentally and abruptly changed by two events:
the American-sponsored peace agreement between Egypt and Israel
(1978) and the Iranian revolution (1979). The specter of Egypt making
peace with the Arabs' sworn enemy fractured the Arab bloc. The
confrontation states led by Syria rallied against the agreement and
demanded that the moderate Arab states fall into line. Because of the
kingdom's special relationship with the United States, the American
promoted peace agreement between Egypt and Israel made Saudi Arabia a
special target of Arab venom. At the same time, the United States was
exerting firm pressure on the Saudis to join the peace process.
Disagreement about the Saudi response to both the Americans and the Arab
bloc raged among the senior princes and sent the pro-American Crown Prince
Fahd into self-imposed exile for several weeks. Caution, as always, won
out, and Saudi Arabia joined with the other Arabs in rejecting the peace
accord. The American commitment to the defense of Saudi Arabia emerged
from the debate unbroken but perhaps bent more than either side recognized
at the time.
Of even more immediate concern to the security of Saudi Arabia
and the future of the House of Saud was the fall of the shah of fran. The
Islamic revolution had turned Iran from a shield for Saudi Arabia into a
major threat. While the Western press often fueled the perception that the
House of Saud feared the territorial ambitions and military strength of
the shah, the reality was more complex.
Saudi Arabia's problem in the Arabian Gulf was two tiered: at
one level there was the threat of radical, hostile Iraq to the regimes of
Saudi Arabia and the Gulf emirates, and the related threat to oil
facilities and transit; at another level there loomed the threat of
Iranian hegemony and its potential implications. The Saudis could not do
much by themselves to counter either danger. They essentially counted on
Iran to check Iraq, and on the United States to check Iran.*
Although the Saudis were wary, they saw Iran as an important
part of their security shield and also as a test of American honor of its
commitments. Day after day of the final crisis of the shah, I read
articles in the government-controlled Saudi press that superficially ex
tolled the Islamic experiment in Iran but at the same time sent out subtle
but passionate pleas for the United States to intervene in defense of the
embattled ruler. Instead, the shah was allowed to fall, a ruler more
strongly tied to the United States than the House of Saud ever was. Among
the overlooked results of the Iranian debacle for the United States was
the Saudi royal family's reaction to the shah's plight as a homeless
exile. Regardless of a number of sound motives, there was no comprehension
among the Saudi hierarchy about the refusal to grant the shah immediate
asylum in the United States. The al-Sauds as a result came to believe that
by tying themselves too closely to the United States they were
guaranteeing neither the throne nor their personal pro tection in case of
political turmoil. Furthermore, the United States not only had failed to
move to protect the shah but had allowed a regime to come to power that
was determined to destroy American presence in the gulf and to pull down
the House of Saud.
* Nadav Safran, Saudi Arabia: The Ceaseless Quest for
Security (Cambridge, Maas.: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press,
1985), p.214.
At the beginning of the 1980s, American policy toward Saudi Arabia
and Saudi attitudes toward the United States were ambivalent. Since the
oil embargo, relations between the two countries had been floundering over
oil policy, the Soviet threat, Saudi nationalism, and the United States'
reluctance to push Israel on a solution for the Palestinians. In many
ways, the alliance was in danger of becoming a commercial agreement in
which the United States sold hardware and expertise to the affluent Saudis
and Saudi military and foreign policy stayed clear of the United States.
This state of affairs was strengthened by Saudi Arabia's rejection of
pleas to station American troops on Saudi soil. Although the presence of
the United States military within the kingdom would prove the American
commitment to Saudi Arabia's defense and make that defense infinitely
easier in case the American option became a reality, the House of Saud
would not assume the political risk. Fearing the reaction of the radical
Arab states, Saudi Arabia chose instead to buttress its defenses by
purchasing even more sophisticated hardware from the United States, which
it would use to erect its own protective umbrella over the Arabian
Peninsula. For the United States, the commitment to defend Saudi Arabia
was still a vital part of its military policy in the Arabian Gulf. But for
Saudi Arabia, the United States as the ultimate security guarantor in a
grand strategic design was a concept that had failed.