Cleavage
in political culture between the domestic and external could not have been
better illustrated than in President Bashar Assad's March 30 televised address to
the Syrian people. Its style perturbed, and then called down almost universal disdain,
externally -- for being both insufficient and ill-judged. In Syria, where I was, the address
played rather differently, at
least for many. Understanding just why reactions were so divergent points
to a different logic behind the address to the one imputed from outside. In its
way, the event symbolizes how Assad's situation is indeed so very different to that of a
Mubarak or a Ben Ali -- which had become the unique lens through which his response
was being judged -- particularly in the West.
Of
course in Western culture, a profound crisis demands due seriousness: A graven-faced president would sit behind an imposing desk, with the symbolic tokens of
authority, and with an array of flags artfully painting the gravitas of the
moment. But here was President Assad jocularly and informally addressing parliament, occasionally chuckling at his own jokes -- and even engaging in
lighthearted banter with some quite rowdy members of his audience. How "unpresidential," a Western politician might murmur to himself at such a key
moment, and "so lacking in specifics on reform."
But
this was its point: Assad's style was
intentionally informal. It spoke to a different image than a stereotype: it was of a young leader, one who was not
ossified by time and convention. It was a broad hint to a domestic audience,
accustomed to nuance, that the President really does believe in reform. This
conviction about Assad -- that he is not old
guard -- is widely held in Syria,
even by many of those who have been demonstrating in the streets. Most Syrians
do believe that the President did not
order the security forces to use live fire, but forbade it. This is the
difference between Syria
and, say, Egypt.
There, everyone knew Mubarak would never, ever reform. Most Syrians however
believe that Assad instinctively is reformist.
Assad's
address was, to an extent, an audacious one -- carefully tilted toward the particular
Syrian context, rather than to the general context of (other) Arab states and
the regional revolutionary fervor. In
his interview in January with the Wall Street Journal, the president was very clear about the absolute necessity for internal reform and for
respecting the peoples' dignity:
It is about doing something … to change the society, and we have to keep up with this change, as a state and as institutions … it is about … the people's feeling and dignity, about the people participating in the decisions of their country. It is about another important issue … [about being] very closely linked to the beliefs of the people. This is the core issue. When there is divergence between your policy and the people's beliefs and interests, you will have this vacuum that creates disturbance. So people do not only live on interests [alone]; they also live on beliefs…
Very
plainly, Assad was committing himself to reform. In his recent address,
he repeated it: "Without reform we are on the path of destruction," but then he
chose deliberately not to offer a list of concessions to those who had so far
demonstrated. This omission was the most carefully deliberated and calculated
aspect of his speech. Recall that the Syrian state was not in peril. No senior
figure has defected from it, and the army remains loyal. The protest movement
in Daraa so far has failed to take root in the cities. The number of anti-demonstrators
that turned out in Damascus, Aleppo,
and Hama, three of Syria's four largest cities,
numbered in the hundreds and not the thousands, while the pro-demonstrations in
those cities were massive.
Even
in Daraa, the site of the biggest demonstrations and the site of the
gratuitous use of live fire against the protesters, inhabitants believe they
know the identity of the official who ordered the firing and also the
prominent personage to whom he is linked. They are deeply angry to be sure, but their
anger is not primarily channeled at the president.
Externally,
the context of Syria
had been simplified to a black-and-white "would the president do reform or
dig in?" In reality, this was not the issue in Syria -- even if it was, and is, the
issue in most of the Arab world. There was no struggle about whether to reform: The debate was about
how to proceed. The real debate was
about how best to implement reform in a way that could not be used by a
minority in order to discredit, and ultimately to devalue, and block all reform.
Assad already had implicitly acknowledged internal dissatisfaction with the (heavy-handed,
frequently inept, and often corrupt) administration of the state. He also had recognized
that the new Arab consciousness required real popular participation in
decision-making. But, at the same time he noted, in the external sphere, Syria has stood on the right side of history -- a
key point that sets Syria
apart from most other Arab states: Assad had opposed the war in Iraq and has supported the resistance in Palestine. To the Wall Street
Journal, Assad emphasized that, in external affairs, he had been closely
aligned to the core beliefs and ideology of the people -- in marked contrast to
other Arab rulers, such as Mubarak, who was viewed as a Western and Israeli
stooge. The key was to repeat this principle in the domestic sphere, Assad
indicated.
This foreign-policy stance has given Assad personal popularity in the region, and at home. But it has also brought Syria
enemies: It is evident that some in the region, and beyond, would relish any
discomfort caused to him, hoping to see his foreign policy weakened. Just as
some see that Mubarak's demise weakened Fatah, so too do some hope that upheaval in Syria might weaken Hamas and Hezbollah. Israeli commentators too have
been suggesting over recent weeks that the Arab awakening might have a silver
lining: a more democratic Syria
might lead to a more accommodating Assad -- to the point, perhaps, that he
could be induced to forego his membership of the resistance axis, and to make
peace with Israel.
Israel is not alone in this
wish: Other Arab leaders quietly hope for the same, but their hope lies less in securing a peace with Israel, but in securing the weakening
of the Islamist trend that they perceive as threatening their survival.
The
threat of foreign and intelligence service intervention in Syria is not some
whimsy: It has been a steady drumbeat over the years, and it is clear that the
government has documents and intelligence relating to planning emanating
from elements in Europe, Saudi Arabia, and Jordan to ratchet up any internal
Syrian disquiet into a polarizing confrontation. Of particular concern has been
Sheikh
Yusuf al-Qaradawi's characterization of Syria's primary dissension as being one of sectarianism:
as a conflict between Sunnis exploited by Alawites (Assad is Alawite).
In Latakia there has been evidence of just such attempts to provoke such
sectarian fears.
What
then do the massive pro-Assad demonstrations seem to say? I suspect that many
of those marching have seen too clearly what sectarian strife has done to Iraq -- (there are over a million Iraqi refugees
in Syria); and many may also
have been unnerved by the sudden Western intervention in Libya and the threat there of civil
war. They have seen that before as well. They, too, want reform: They share a
conviction that Assad also wants it and were demonstrating largely against
those elements who seek precisely such a descent into civil strife that will
signal an end to that hope. Many Syrians may suspect that the externally
promoted concept of reform may be a Trojan horse being used against Syria and the
resistance axis more widely.
Assad's
address therefore was to this latter group -- a group that did not exist as a
majority elsewhere in the region. The pro-Assad demonstrators sought a signal
of self-confidence and will, but will also now be looking to see that promised
reforms do indeed materialize. Assad seems to intend that reform -- the
ending of the emergency laws, the lifting of restrictions on the press, and a
new law to provide for a plurality of political parties -- progresses rapidly.
Success in this project depends crucially, of course, on the president's
ability to stem and to stop the killing of protesters, too.
If Assad succeeds -- and it seems, thus far, to be heading in that direction -- the
calculation by some external analysts that Assad will emerge somehow weakened
by greater popular participation seems improbable: Much of his personal
popularity rests precisely on his foreign-policy stance, in which he has been
closely aligned with popular sentiment. More probable is that Assad will emerge with
his stature enhanced, and Syria
will be set on a course for resuming its traditional place at the center of
Arab politics. Correctly understood, a strengthened Syria offers a better prospect for resolving present regional tensions,
rather than aggravating them.
Alastair Crooke is the director and founder
of Conflicts Forum.
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