Council on Foreign Relations.
Viorst, Milton,
Vol. 75, Foreign Affairs, 01-01-1996,
DISSIDENCE IN ARABIA
Saudi Arabia's royal family is convinced it presides over a
country that is peculiarly blessed. It feels it has created a fusion of
political and religious power ideal for an Islamic society, and it is
puzzled that other Arab states do not emulate its system. It vows it will
not have an army, like its neighbors Syria and Iraq, that can take over
the state. It sees the disorderly parliaments of Kuwait and Egypt as
warnings against the temptations of democracy. Although King Fahd was
reported to have suffered a stroke in early December, the House of Saud
insists there will be no succession crisis. The Sauds are proud of their
leadership, which they say was vindicated in 1991 when Saddam Hussein's
army stood at the border and the Saudi people rallied round. Yet to the
royal family's dismay, discontent has risen steadily since the Persian
Gulf War ended five years ago. The war was not popular in Saudi Arabia. It
aroused no nationalist fervor and was at best supported as a necessary
evil. Before and after the fighting, many questioned the government's
judgment in summoning an infidel army to defend the country against
aggressive fellow Arabs. Where, they asked, had the billions gone that had
been spent over the previous decade on national defense? In November a car
bomb destroyed a building in Riyadh in which American military personnel
assigned to train the Saudi armed forces were based. Five Americans were
killed and about 60 injured, and at least one other foreigner died. Weeks
passed without the government issuing a report on the blast. Its only
announcement was a denial--skeptically received--that internal forces were
responsible. Iraq or Iran, it said, was the most likely culprit. Other
signs of domestic discontent were harder to deny. In the fall of 1994,
Safar al-Hawali, a clerical critic of the royal family, was arrested in
Mecca, where he taught at the Islamic university. A few days later, Sheikh
Salman al-Audah, who had denounced the royal family from the podium of his
mosque in Buryada, was taken into custody. Audah's arrest by antiriot
troops over the protests of hundreds of his supporters, though blacked out
by the Saudi press, was clandestinely videotaped and disseminated
throughout the country. That week as many as a thousand dissidents were
secretly detained in a countrywide sweep. Reports of the arrests published
in the international press were officially dismissed as "lies and
misleading information. " The government finally admitted seizing 157
men on charges of sowing dissent. Most, it said, had been released after
confessing error, but 27 remained in custody, Audah and Hawaii among them.
The government went on to warn of dire consequences for repeat offenders
and promised harsh measures against those who committed "any action
that undermines the faith or the [internal] security of the country."
INSECURITY AND ITS DISCONTENTS
Most Saudis agree the trouble started when the government
brought in American and other foreign troops to fight the Gulf War. The
royal family, they felt, thereby defaulted on the basic compact of the
state, under which the many lesser tribes have pledged their fealty to the
Sauds, a strong tribe, in return for protection. The deal, rooted in
desert tradition, has given Arabia nearly two and a half centuries of
relative stability, and lies at the heart of the Saudi autocracy. In the
war and its aftermath, Saudis turned a critical eye on the system. Despite
the ultimate victory, the war left a shadow over the Saud family's
political legitimacy. "Saudis are not used to being in danger, and
though Riyadh took only a few Scud missiles, we didn't like it," an
intellectual said to me in his home last summer. Like most Saudis I met,
he agreed to talk only if I promised not to identify him. "Of course,
these matters were not discussed publicly. The newspapers, as always, were
obediently silent. But we were very angry at being unable to defend
ourselves. "Even now, we see ourselves surrounded by neighbors that
don't like us--Iran, Iraq, Sudan, Yemen--and we wonder what's next. The
West seems to think that the impact of the war was cultural, that we were
upset by women in T-shirts driving jeeps. But the truth is, we felt the
royal family had let us down." In May 1991, barely two months after
the war ended, some 400 Islamic intellectuals, Audah and Hawaii among
them, submitted a letter to King Fahd calling for a series of governmental
reforms. Low-key though it was, this was the most daring challenge to
royal authority since Islamic extremists' violent occupation of the Grand
Mosque in Mecca in 1979- The government, in fact, lumped the 1991 signers
with the 1979 extremists, and indeed their grievances were somewhat
similar, in that both called for an end to the Saud family's corruption,
ostentation, and imitation of the West. Hawaii and Audah, however, went
further, pressing such purely political demands as public accountability,
equality before the law, an independent judiciary, and popular
participation (though not necessarily democracy) in decision-making. Their
aim, in short, was to curb the royal family's absolutism. In the months
that followed, the government fumbled about, taking no punitive steps. The
leading Islamic elders dutifully denounced the petition for its disrespect
to the king but were themselves ambivalent. The problem facing both the
political and religious hierarchies was that among the dissenters were
distinguished clerics recognized not just for their intellect and
integrity but for their piety; the next generation of religious leaders,
these men could not easily be dismissed. Sensing the indecision, the
dissidents issued more statements, attracting more signers. In a 45-page
manifesto in September 1992, they boldly attacked the clerical elders for
endorsing the king's domestic and international policies. Meanwhile, a
second protest effort was being organized, this one from outside the
religious establishment. To describe it as secular would be inaccurate,
for in Saudi Arabia whatever is political has an Islamic component. Saudis
respond not to Rousseau or Jefferson, a professor reminded me, but to the
Prophet and his followers; occasional Western- style protests have gained
no public support. The organizer of the newprotest was Muhammad al-Massari,
a practicing Muslim about 50 years old, with a doctorate in theoretical
physics from the United States. A faculty member at King Saud University
in Riyadh, he had been a sporadic critic of the government, but the Gulf
War turned him into a full-time dissident. Many of his followers had
collaborated with Audah and Hawali, but for the most part they were
businessmen, professors,judges, and other professionals rather than
clerics. On May 3, 1993, in Riyadh, Massari announced the formation of the
Committee for the Defense of Legitimate Rights (CDLR), which he described
as an association devoted to human rights and political reform--within the
context of Islamic law. The announcement shattered the government' s
lethargy, and several days later Massari was arrested. Dozens of CDLR
sympathizers, many of them Massari's kin, followed him to prison in the
ensuing months. Tried and convicted of heresy, Massari remained in custody
until early 1994. A few months later he slipped across the border into
Yemen and turned up in London, where he established a CDLR office. Since
then, he and a handful of associates have provoked the royal family by
feeding information and criticism via telephone, fax, and bootleg cassette
to the international press and the intellectual grapevine inside Saudi
Arabia. Currently the relationship between the CDLR and the Audah-Hawaii
dissidents is uncertain, as is their doctrinal compatibility. In the Saudi
tradition, both make their demands in the name of Islamic orthodoxy.
Neither professes such liberal values as popular democracy, unlimited
freedom of expression, equality for women, or religious freedom. (Being
Sunni, both keep Saudi Shiites, a substantial but powerless minority in
the country, at arm's length.) Both groups are faintly anti-Western and
not so faintly anti-Israel. Both speak more of reform than rebellion, and
neither seems to have plans for moving beyond peaceful protest.
Sympathizers admit that the dissidents do not at present have a popular
movement backing them. Massari's calls for sit-ins in the mosques on
Fridays have evoked no response. Under Saudi law, political organizing is
prohibited (even parent-teacher associations are banned), and Saudis I
met, including the harshest critics of the government, acknowledged, with
some embarrassment, that they had no stomach for defying the rules. Still,
one told me, the dissidents represent an "attitude" that is
spreading. As for its ultimate goals, the CDLR seems more concerned with
conventional politics, whereas the Audah-Hawali doctrine is more
theological and may in fact stand on a foundation that resembles
Khomeinism. But for now the two groups are in tacit alliance. While Audah
and Hawali sit in detention, Massari in London churns out faxes extolling
the "martyrs" in the homeland who are bravely confronting the
repression of the House of Saud. Some Saudis dismiss the protests as
generational: the dissidents are mainly in their thirties and forties
while the ruling elites, political and religious, are in their seventies
and eighties. Few in the country dispute that a changing of the guard is
overdue. But the dissidents' appeal is by no means limited to the young.
During my month in Saudi Arabia, Audah, Hawali, and Massari were the talk
of every drawing room and many of the offices I visited. Saudis are no
doubt attracted simply by the dissidents' daring. The culture of the
country is not only politically repressive but also imposes rigid
conformity on social behavior, on what people read and how they dress.
Social norms had never been challenged, but the Gulf War snapped the
reticence. Now calls for reform--whatever the reforms may be-- seem almost
intoxicating. What stuns the royal family is the dissidents' Islamic
claims. The Sauds' legitimacy is founded on their championship of a
particular brand of Islam and their adherence to its strictures. They
would never describe their foes as fundamentalists because they reserve
that term to describe themselves. Their tactic is to denounce the
dissidents as fanatics who are degrading the faith for impious ends. They
cannot, however, conceal their pain, for the dissidents have put them on
the defensive in their own game.
THE KINGDOM AND THE CLERICS
The modern Saudi state was built on the ruins of the system
Muhammad established 1400 years ago. In the centuries after the Prophet's
death, Arabia drifted away from the rigorous form of monotheism he had
introduced, and the center of the Islamic world moved elsewhere. Like the
Prophet before him, Muhammad ibn Abd al-Wahhab, an itinerant preacher, was
deeply troubled by the state of affairs in Arabia. Born in a southern
oasis in 17o3, he studied in Medina, then in Iraq and Iran, and returned
home committed to leading a revival. Ibn Abd al- Wahhab's aim was to
restore the Prophet's Islam, which meant to him not only rigor in
religious practice but austerity in social behavior. His puritanical views
made him few converts, so he set out to find a tribal leader to help him
promote his sacred cause. In 1744 Ibn Abd al-Wahhab persuaded Muhammad ibn
Saud, a tribal chief ruling over a small village, that Islamic revivalism
could fuel the latter's ambitions for territory and power. The two men
exchanged oaths of fidelity, and Ibn Saud embarked on a holy war against
the infidels of Arabia. In a series of military campaigns, the chief and
his descendants unified the peninsula, and by the end of the century they
had reduced the shrines of the apostates to ruins. The alliance between
the two families is the core of the state to this day. The Sauds are the
enforcers of Islamic orthodoxy, while the descendants of Ibn Abd al-Wahhab
provide them with divine legitimacy. The kingdom they created in Arabia
was twice brought down by the Ottomans, and the British nibbled off
pieces. Yet the alliance proved resilient. After each fall the state
picked itself up and, with popular support, rebuilt its institutions,
without ever abandoning its unique mix of religious and temporal
authority. The parallel hierarchies that governed 250 years ago still
govern today. In theory the monarchy is the executive and the ulema--the
organization of the clergy--the moral guide, but in practice the two are
often rivals, each tugging constantly at the other. Yet they understand
their mutual dependence. The dissidents demand reform, but history
strongly suggests that the Saudi regime has survived this long precisely
because it has never altered its basic structure. Abdullah bin Muhammad A1
al-Shaikh, the minister of justice, is an example of the system at work. A
direct descendant of Ibn Abd al-Wahhab, he gravitated through family ties
into the clerical establishment. Educated at Imam Muhammad bin Saud
University in Riyadh, familiarly known as Imam University, where most of
the high clergy are trained, he received a doctorate in Islamic law and
became a professor, then a dean. Now 46, he presides over the country's
Islamic system of law, the only law it has. He speaks softly but conveys
great certainty. "Islamic law requires the presence of a state,"
he told me in a conversation at his ministry. "My ancestor could have
gone to the mosque to seize political and religious power, but he
understood his limitations. He imparted to Muhammad ibn Saud the wisdom he
needed to become caliph, a successor to the Prophet Muhammad. His personal
mandate was to be the ruler's guide, but even in religious matters the
state is the final authority." When I asked Shaikh how Islam responds
to the corruption in Saudi Arabia about which I had heard so much, rather
than dismissing the question he had a ready answer. "It is forbidden
in Islam to raise a hand against a ruler. If he makes a mistake even a big
one like corruption, and that includes adultery or stealing or
drinking--overthrowing him is prohibited. If he forces others to violate
Islam, you may refuse to follow him, but you can go no further. Overthrow
of a ruler is not permitted, because when a people is without a ruler the
result is fitna--public disordep-- and that is worse than corrupt rule.
Obedience to rulers is part of Muslim practice." The most serious
strains between the kingdoms two hierarchies have been brought on by the
intrusion of Western ideas, especially in the guise of technology. The
royal family has consistently had to concede power to the clergy in return
for its acceptance of modernization. To bring radio stations to Saudi
Arabia, the king promised broadcasts of the Koran, which now dominate the
airwaves. To win consent for girls' education, he granted the
administration of the schools to the ulema. When Khomeini's revolution
threatened to make Iran more Islamic than Saudi Arabia, the king bowed to
the clergy's request that he close movie theaters and ban music and drama
from television. More recently he had 70 women arrested for demonstrating
for the right to drive, after which the clergy endorsed the stationing of
some Western troops on Saudi soil. "By Saudi standards the king is
probably very enlightened," said the editor of an Islamic paper.
"In terms of social change he is ahead of the people. We have an
enlightened, Western-oriented middle class, which favors reform. Its
members behave un-Islamically when they go to London or Cairo and even
behind the doors of their own homes. They'd like to end the hypocrisy, but
the national consensus remains very Wahhabi. The women who demonstrated
for the right to drive did not get public support, and the king was
applauded for punishing them. The clergy are not the only obstacle. Fahd
can't be more liberal than the masses." A Western-educated
intellectual had a different take on clerical power and social stasis.
"In recent years," he said, "this country has exploded with
new experiences, in technology and in areas like banking and management.
But the old social issues remain untouched. Islamic society has not
resolved three questions: where women fit in, what the goal of education
is, and how much freedom of dissent the people and the media should be
granted. "Meanwhile, conformity grows worse. Our clergy are certainly
as powerful as the Catholic hierarchy, and Imam University is our Vatican.
It funnels a great number of Islamic Ph.D.s into big jobs in the
government. Many of them work in education, enforcing the directives of
the ulema. "These people brainwash our students. A few decades ago
Saudis were mainly illiterate, but now thousands graduate every year. Many
return to the schools as teachers--particularly the women, since no other
work is available to them--where they reinforce religious thinking. Before
higher education was developed here, most of our students went abroad, and
they came back with some modern ideas. Now we have seven universities, and
our students stay home and become more ingrown. It is ironic that when the
schools were established they were regarded as a liberalizing instrument.
"The royal family has responded to every crisis by granting more
concessions to the clerics. It thinks it is co-opting them, but they keep
demanding more. What they bring us is not higher spiritual values but more
ritual, which translates into greater doctrinal and social conformity. We
still have the mutaween--the religious police patrolling the streets and
the markets to make sure people are saying their prayers. There are more
beards among the men, and more veils on the women. But we are not better
Muslims, because as you ritualize religion, you marginalize belief.
"I'm not certain that Audah and Hawali, rebellious as they are,
depart from this pattern. They come from the trend that says women shouldn'
t drive and Shiites are not Muslims. They demand political accountability,
but they urge even greater restrictions on popular freedoms. As for
Massari and the CDLR, they are apparently still developing their ideas. I
think they represent a progressive view of Islam, but it's like the
opening frames of a movie--we still don't know the plot. "We hope the
younger generation of the royal family will be different. Its members
still go abroad to school and are said to understand that the country is
being held back. But it will be a long time before the old men who rule us
now give way to the next generation."
LESSONS NOT LEARNED
The Royal family's failure to learn more lessons from the
war--financial, military, and political--left many Saudis disenchanted.
Because the government releases whatever information it chooses, no
outsider can pretend to have a clear picture of the state's finances, but
a reasonable guess is that the war cost Saudi Arabia about $60 billion.
This came on the heels of some $30 billion that Saudi Arabia contributed
in the 1980s toward Iraq's expenses in the war against Iran. The state may
have spent another $50 billion refitting its forces after the Gulf War. To
pay these huge bills, the government had to draw down its reserves. Though
temporarily pinched, Saudi Arabia is far from poor. Oil prices and sales
indicate that reserves have begun to rise again in the past year or so.
The state still levies no income or profits taxes. But it bothers many
Saudis that the royal family, faced with the extraordinary expenses, has
shown little inclination to change its spendthrift ways. Unlike his
predecessors, King Fahd is said to impose no limits on family members'
spending. Some 5,000 princes and an equal number of princesses continue to
receive large stipends every month for no work. The Sauds still build
lavish palaces and pocket huge commissions on foreign contracts, and they
pay nothing for utilities, airplane tickets, and other state services. For
the first time, moreover, the king is said to condone the princes'
muscling in, Mafia-style, on private businessmen. These practices are
straining the patience of a class that has always been loyal to the status
quo. Similarly, the war produced no revision of national security policy.
Although it invests heavily in air defense, the country spends very little
on its ground forces. The most embarrassing question I could ask Saudi
officials, it seemed, was why Saudi Arabia, with a larger population and
greater wealth than Israel, could not build a comparable defense force.
Officials would admit that the royal family has no appetite for a strong
standing army. (The ground forces historically have been divided into two
bodies, making them rivals of each other rather than the monarchy.)
Pentagon sources have described Saudi Arabia' s defense strategy as
preparing the infrastructure a friendly foreign force would need while
limiting itself to the power to delay an aggressor- -a carbon copy of the
Saudi role in Operation Desert Storm. "Moving from a state of
scarcity a few decades ago, our priority was a good life, not a defense
force," said Prince Saud al-Faysal, the Saudi foreign minister and a
nephew of the king. "Building an army cannot be our top priority. The
comparison with Israel isn't fair. Our achievement in the Gulf War was to
retain our cohesion with hundreds of thousands of foreign troops on our
soil. We recognize that every country should be able to defend itself. But
to deal with the Soviet Union, the West relied on collective security for
decades. We applied this principle to Saddam Hussein, to the benefit of
both ourselves and our allies. We are prepared to rely on it again."
WHISPERED ADVICE The biggest change in the wake of the Gulf War was King
Fahd's appointment of a Majlis al-Shura, or Consultative Council.
Shura--consultation between the ruler and the ruled--is enjoined in the
Koran, and as such, is one of Islam's few political commandments. Some
Islamic thinkers take it as a call for democratic government. The House of
Saud interprets it far more modestly. Originating in Bedouin practices,
shura had long been part of the state machinery, falling into disuse only
when a cabinet system was adopted in the 1950s. On assuming the throne in
1982, King Fahd promised to restore shura, and had a sumptuous palace
built for the purpose. As time passed, Saudis grew skeptical, but shortly
after the war a law establishing the Majlis al-Shura was issued, and in
1993 the body met for the first time. The king named all 61 members of the
Shura. Tapping no royals, he weighted the body toward academics, then
added engineers, businessmen, doctors, lawyers, religious scholars, and
retired civil servants. The appointments followed no pattern of geographic
or tribal distribution. Naturally no dissidents were named. The principal
qualifications seemed to be intellectual achievement and practical
experience. More than half the members are Ph.D.s, and two-thirds studied
in the West. The body considers drafts of laws and international
agreements that the king submits to it; the budget is not included in its
legal mandate. Organized like a parliament, it has committees that hear
outside testimony and send recommendations to a plenum, which debates the
issues and reaches decisions by majority vote. It is empowered to summon
government officials and request state documents but was given no watchdog
functions. What mainly distinguishes it from a real parliament is that its
decisions have no binding force. Abd al-Aziz al-Fayez, a respected
political scientist from Riyadh University, said he was surprised when the
king named him to the Shura. Flattered, he, like the others, agreed to
serve full time for a four- year term, receiving a modest stipend. His
fellow members are conscientious, he said, and their debates are
thoughtful and respectful. None of them, however, has any illusions about
the council's power. "We're Saudis, and we're used to
paternalism," Fayez said. "We were instructed to give our honest
judgments on public issues, and we do. We provide information and analysis
from outside the ministerial circle. In short, we are a body of advisers
to the king, nothing more. " According to Fayez, the king seems to
take the council's recommendations seriously. Its deliberations are
secret, however, and its members are barred from discussing any of its
business with the press. Many Saudis are not aware that the body exists,
and others mock it because they have no idea what it does. Critics of the
government regard it as a political lapdog designed to give the king cover
against charges of despotism. "The people are not meant to be
represented in the Majlis al-Shura, " said Sheikh Muhammad bin Jubair,
the old tribal chief who serves as its chairman. Jubair, surrounded by
aides, received me beneath a glittering chandelier in a cream and gold
sitting room at the council' s palace. "If we left it to voters, they
would not choose members qualified to offer the king advice--they would
elect tribal chiefs unable to read or write. Instead, we have educated
men, real experts. The Shura is not a legislature, and it is not a step
toward democracy. It is our own system, coming from our religion and
habits and tradition. " Abdullah al-Naseef, the Shura's deputy
chairman, takes a different view. Naseef studied in the mid-1960s at the
University of California at Berkeley, and though he acquired some
unfavorable impressions of American freedoms, he is regarded, within
Wahhabi limits, as a committed liberal. "Sheikh Jubair is concerned
that elections will bring 'unsuitable' people to the Majlis. He thinks
discord and argument violate our religion, and it is true that there are
limits to speech in Islam. Our faith is our strength, and what I witnessed
in Berkeley 30 years ago would not be good for us. But the government
doesn't understand how badly the people want to have more say about the
country. Nothing in Islam bars holding elections for the Shura, even with
women as candidates. Nothing bars more open government, and I believe our
meetings will soon be covered on television. I am among those who think
this must be the start of Saudi democracy."
AUDIENCES WITH THE PRINCES
Prince Salman bin Abd al-Aziz, the youngest full brother of King
Fahd, has been governor of the province of Riyadh--a rather good governor,
most say--since 1962. Not yet 60, he is said to be a sure bet to become
king in time. The current heir to the throne, however, is Prince Abdullah,
a half brother who at 72 is just two years Fahd's junior. In a society
that reveres blood relationships, the king's selection of a half brother
as his successor puzzles most Saudis. Abdullah, the commander of the
National Guard, is not particularly close to the monarch, while Prince
Salman is one of his most trusted advisers. Prince Salman denies that the
royal family is aloof from the people, as many Saudis claim. In an
interview at the governor's offices in downtown Riyadh, he explained that
the leading princes are kept informed not just by the intelligence
services but by meeting personally with private citizens. The prince
himself holds an audience twice a day, during which all Saudis are invited
to bring him their problems. At his invitation, I witnessed one of these
sessions, held after the noon prayer in a huge, opulent receiving room in
the palace. Dozens of robed men, most with the sun-dried faces .of
Bedouins, sat in chairs around the periphery, rising deferentially when
Salman entered. Each in turn approached the throne, shook the prince's
hand, presented him with a petition, and for a few seconds delivered a
personal plea. The issues were private, I was told, like getting an
elderly mother into a hospital or a miscreant son out of jail. The prince
listened, then handed the petition to an aide, to whom he whispered
instructions. It was a touching scene of desert governance transposed to
modern times; whether it conveyed to the prince what the people were
thinking about his family was another matter. "Yes, the royal family
is aware that there is discontent in the kingdom, " Salman told me.
"Like all Saudis, we are looking for the best for our country. But we
are not prepared to undermine our cultural strengths or to adopt practices
that do not suit us. "Our goal is to preserve our country's unity.
Arabia used to be a collection of regions and tribes; now we are becoming
a single family, under a king who loves us. Troublemakers like Audah and
Hawaii don' t represent our people. They are only promoting anarchy. We
know we as Sauds have not attained perfection--there is no ideal system on
earth. But we are developing our country within a context of faithfulness
to our traditions." In several talks with members of the royal
family, I frequently heard the disarming admission that the Sauds were not
perfect. One prince acknowledged that family members sometimes engage in
corruption and conceded that princes suffer lapses from Islamic morality,
into alcohol or adultery. I heard princes admit that the enormous oil
wealth of Saudi Arabia has been, at the least, mismanaged. But the family
line seems to be that the Sauds have, in the final analysis, done rather
well by their country. More than one Saudi--loyalists, to be sure, if not
apologists--asked me to weigh the following: "Look at other countries
that have been blessed with oil riches. We could have become a snakepit
like Algeria or Venezuela or Nigeria. But we didn't. Just take a look
around at what we have become." And to confirm the boast, one need
only regard Saudi Arabia's prospering cities, its efficient communications
and transportation systems, its universities and factories and mosques,
and note the sense of order that pervades the society. Yet the royal
family is troubled today because Massari and the CDLR along with Audah,
Hawali, and their followers and perhaps the unidentified car bombers who
struck in November--do not consider these achievements enough. Prince
Nayif, another of King Fahd's full brothers, is indignant that a Muslim
would challenge the Saud family's statecraft. As minister of the interior,
Nayif is the kingdom's chief law enforcement officer. Within the circle of
the king's intimates he is regarded as a hard- liner, although it is
difficult to pin down gradations in the brothers' attitudes. Nayif was the
most affable of the princes I met, but the dissidents' demands for reform
clearly exasperated him. "The king has an open heart and an open
door, and we will examine any proposal that does not contradict Islamic
law. But the reforms Audah and Hawali called for are not legitimate, and
by exposing their petition to the world they embarrassed us. That was
unacceptable. The public also believes that their bringing their cause to
the mosque was a violation of Islamic principles. Ours is an Islamic
state, and our family does not need such people to tell us about Islam.
"Unfortunately, all these men have been influenced by external
forces- -the Muslim Brothers in Egypt and perhaps the so-called liberal
reformers among the Arabs. But we are not concerned by the thoughts of
these people; what they recommend will never influence us. As for our own
misguided citizens, their beliefs have an Islamic face, but behind them
are their personal interests. Either they will be convinced of their
wrongdoing and repent--the king usually accepts a sincere apology- -or
they will be subjected to the strict punishment of Islamic justice. "
At this point, Prince Nayif digressed, unbidden, into a rambling defense
of Saudi justice, denying charges leveled by human rights organizations,
including Amnesty International, of torture, kangaroo trials, and offhand
executions, usually by public beheading. Returning to the Saudi
dissidents, he continued: "These misinformed men are damaging
themselves more than they are damaging our country. After listening to
them, we see no reason to change our course, and we will not--neither I
nor my family." No Saudi I encountered expressed a belief that the
dissidents Prince Nayif reviled had any immediate prospect of triumphing
over the royal family; the Sauds' roots are too deep in the society. Some
Saudis, however, expressed resentment that the United States had put no
pressure on the royal family to be more attentive to human rights. It is
true that Washington treats the Sauds, as proprietors of the world's
greatest oil reserves, extremely gently. Still, most acknowledge that the
differences between the royal family and its subjects are, ultimately, a
problem that only the Saudis themselves can solve, and they say that the
contest is only now beginning. It seems to me that the Sauds have not
grasped the depth or breadth of the discontent simmering in their ordered
land. Despite their apparent invulnerability, I suspect that they ignore
it much longer only at their peril.