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Thursday, December 14, 2017

It's personal: How Trump betrayed both Abbas and Abdullah of Jordan


For once the Jordanian king and Palestinian president have earned their position as Arab leaders


David Hearst's picture

David Hearst-Thursday 14 December 2017

On 21 August 1969, an Australian citizen called Denis Rohan set fire to an 800-year-old wooden pulpit, a gift to al-Aqsa mosque from the Islamic hero Saladin (1137-1193), who led the military campaign against the Crusaders.
Apart from being considered mentally ill, Rohan thought he was acting on divine instructions. These were to enable the Jews to build the temple on the ruins of the mosque, thus hastening the second coming of Jesus Christ.

A galvanising effect

The arson attack which destroyed the ancient pulpit and part of the roof had a galvanising effect. A month later, 24 leaders and representatives of Muslim countries met in Rabat and created the precursor of a group now known as the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC).
This group, now 57 nations strong, met in Istanbul on Wednesday. Just as it had 48 years ago, Al Aqsa galvanised them - once again - into action. Instead of being attacked by an Evangelical Christian from Australia, Al Aqsa was threatened by a US president pandering to similar messianic Christians in America. 
The conference achieved a number of goals. It made an historic decision to recognise East Jerusalem as the capital of the State of Palestine, thus pitting 57 states against Israel's express intention to unify the city of Jerusalem. 
Istanbul laid the foundations for a realignment of Arab states
This move sets a heavy diplomatic ball rolling around the world, one that will roll independently of Israel's or America's will. It could roll all through Asia, Latin America and Africa. And it will make it more difficult for other nations to quietly move their embassies to the city.
Today the US vice president Mike Pence delayed his visit to Israel.
The summit placed Palestine once again in the centre of the Muslim world after seven years of the Arab Spring, the wave of popular uprising that swept across the region in 2011, and the reign of Islamic State group (IS) in both Iraq and Syria . As a result the seminal Israel-Palestine conflict receded from view.
Erdogan, flanked by Kuwait's emir, Sabah, Abdullah of Jordan and Mahmoud Abbas of the Palestinian Authority, at the OIC conference (AA)
It also sidelined the conference which Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman laid on for Donald Trump in Riyadh last May.
A US president lecturing Muslim leaders on Islamic extremism was superseded by one in which Muslim leaders lectured him on his own fundamentalists. Realising they were about to be upstaged, the Saudis panicked.
They sent a junior minister of Islamic affairs to Istanbul, excised all coverage of the event from their own media, and fed another story in the works about Al Jazeera's coverage of Jerusalem protests acting as an incitement to violence.

No blank cheques

More importantly, Istanbul laid the foundations for a realignment of Arab states. It showcased a rebellion by two key pro-Western Arab leaders, King Abdullah of Jordan and Mahmoud Abbas, the Palestinian president, against their traditional allies in Washington.
The former is the head of the second Arab country to recognise Israel, the latter is the Palestinian leader who has devoted his life to negotiating the now-defunct two-state solution.
Realising the importance of what was about to happen in Istanbul, Saudi Arabia and Egypt made strenuous efforts to stop Abdullah and Abbas from going.
As has been reported, Abdullah and Abbas were summoned for an urgent meeting in Cairo. Only Abbas turned up. 
I am told by well-informed sources, who spoke on condition of anonymity, that Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi put pressure on Abbas so as not to head the Palestinian delegation to Istanbul and thus downgrade the importance of the conference.
To help him decline his invitation to Istanbul, fake news was spread that Abbas had had a stroke. Abbas ignored this.
Meanwhile King Abdullah was summoned to Riyadh, and there again I am informed, he was told not to attend Istanbul. King Abdullah stayed for a few hours in Riyadh and then left for Istanbul.
Their attendance at the conference sent a message to Saudi Arabia as well as to the US: Riyadh's deal with Trump is not accepted by Jordan and Palestine and in this they are supported by Muslim countries. In other words: You have no blank cheque to negotiate with Israel over our heads.
Both men made a public display of their defiance and anger by standing shoulder to shoulder with the fire-breathing Islamist-leaning Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan in the group photograph.
Abdullah vigorously nodded as Erdogan said:"I repeat Jerusalem is our red line. The Noble Sanctuary will forever belong to Muslims. We will never give up on our demand for a sovereign and independent Palestine. We cannot be spectators in this situation because it impacts all our futures."
Abbas feels betrayed by US President Donald Trump (Reuters)
Abbas then gave the speech of his life. He tore into America for wrecking his life's work of pushing for a two-state solution. Jerusalem, he said, crossed all red lines. He revealed he had a gentleman's agreement with Washington on not seeking full statehood and membership of all international organisations before a lasting peace was signed, and proceeded to tear that up.
This means Palestine will be free to launch a case against Israel in the International Criminal Court. And thirdly he would take a complaint against the US before the UN Security Council for violating one of its own resolutions, a procedure against which the US itself cannot vote, Abbas claimed.

An act of betrayal

Neither men are natural allies of Erdogan. Two years ago, Abdullah flew to Washington to brief Congressional leaders about the dangers posed by the Turkish president to regional order.
Abbas feels the rivalry of Hamas keenly and has repeatedly attempted to pull Fatah out of the unity government. What force propelled the two men to Istanbul, and to a conference they knew could change the alignment of the entire region?
It had to be something powerful to overcome their natural disinclination to stand with Islamists.
Both turned to the man who, according to the latest Pew poll, is considered the most popular in the region and to the country, Turkey, which is looked at as the most influential regional power, after Russia.
Domestic politics played its part. Both knew anger on their own streets was intense. Amman saw the biggest street protests in decades. More than half of Jordanians are Palestinian refugees, including those displaced from Jerusalem after the 1967 war. And the majority of Amman residents are either Palestinian refugees or Palestinians with Jordanian citizenship.
Both saw Donald Trump's recognition of Jerusalem as the capital of Israel as an act of political betrayal. For Abbas, it betrayed an unwritten agreement he had with Washington not to press Palestine's case in the International Criminal Court until a final settlement was reached.
For Abdullah, betrayal was no less real. Jordan's role as custodian of Al Aqsa is not casual. It's written into peace treaties, notably the Wadi Araba treaty King Hussein signed with Yitzhak Rabin of Israel in 1994. 
Similarly, when King Hussein announced in 1988 the disengagement between Jordan and the West Bank, recognising the PLO as the sole representative of the Palestinian people, the king insisted Jordan would keep the custodianship of Al Aqsa.
It's personal
But the third reason for the offence both Abbas and Abdullah have taken is the most interesting of all. It's personal. Their anger is genuine. In Abbas' eyes, Trump betrayed decades of work towards the establishment of a Palestinian state.
Abbas played patsy to an expanding Israel, and paid the price daily for that by doing Israel's law enforcement for it in territory it would never leave.
For Abdullah, it's an insult to his family - a Hashemite, not a Palestinian one. I became convinced of this after a long conversation with a member of the royal household. The Hashemites still remember the time when they were custodians of all three holy sites of Islam - Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem. 
This was in 1924, when Hussein bin Ali al-Hashimi, the Arab leader who proclaimed the Great Arab Revolution against the Ottomans, held Mecca and Medina under his control. In the same year, the people of Jerusalem gave him the right to control their city. 
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However late in the same year he lost his kingdom, Hijaz, to the Saudi Sultan Abdulaziz bin Saud.
Jordan is all that remains of what is still called the Great Arab Revolution sparked by the great grandfather of Abdullah. The only source of religious legitimacy for his family is the custodianship of the Al Aqsa.
When the 32-year-old upstart Saudi  crown prince tells Abbas to forget Jerusalem and the right of return, history is repeating itself in Hashemite consciousness. They have not forgotten their feud with the House of Saud and their loss of two of the three holy places all those years ago. It still rankles.
Jerusalem, then, is not just a foreign issue in a foreign country. It's a test of their very legitimacy as rulers in their own country. Family history tells Abdullah that when they let a fundamental element of their legitimacy as rulers slip from their grasp, it is lost for ever. 

The losing side?

Abdullah's choice carries its own risks. Sceptics may say he could just have chosen the losing side, once again. All the wealth, most of the military power and high technology are controlled by the opposing camp of Saudis, Emiratis, Israel and America. Together they make a strong force.
But he will also remember how his father King Hussein rejected the winning side three times in his long reign, heeding to his instincts as an Arab.
In 1967, the Israelis warned Hussein not to get involved, but he did anyway. Hussein reconciled with his old enemy, Egypt's Gamal Abdel Nasser. "It wasn't possible for Hussein to opt out [of] this war. If he had, everyone would have blamed him for the defeat," Leila Sharaf, a former Jordanian information minister told an Al Jazeera documentary.
In 1973, Hussein sent troops to help Syria in the Golan Heights to fight in the war launched by Anwar Sadat and Hafez Assad. Hussein supported the Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein in the first Gulf war in 1991.
Each time, Jordan consciously sided with fellow Arabs even though it knew they were headed for defeat. Hussein did not foresee the extent of that defeat in 1967 but he did know Jordan would be defeated. Why? Because to do otherwise would be to incur even greater, possibly existential risk. This is the position that Abdullah now finds himself in.
The worst part of Trump's statement for Jordan was the US president's insistence that recognition of Jerusalem as Israel’s capital reflected reality. Trump was not bothered by legality, international law, treaties, UN resolutions, all refusing to accept Israel's annexation of East Jerusalem.
It was the transformation of Jerusalem into another "fact on the ground" that Israel had established through conquest and settlement that made it impossible to accept. 
For once, and I never thought I would write this, King Abdullah and President Abbas have earned their position as Arab leaders.
- David Hearst is editor-in-chief of Middle East Eye. He was chief foreign leader writer of The Guardian, former Associate Foreign Editor, European Editor, Moscow Bureau Chief, European Correspondent, and Ireland Correspondent. He joined The Guardian from The Scotsman, where he was education correspondent.
The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Eye.
Photo: Jordan's King Abdullah II (R) welcomes Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas at the Royal Palace in Amman on 7 December 2017 (Khalil Mazraawi/AFP)
This article is available in French on Middle East Eye French edition.

Labour shadow minister Kate Osamor backs Israel boycott

Labour’s shadow development minister Kate Osamor has endorsed BDS. (ODI/Flickr)
Asa Winstanley-13 December 2017
Activists expressed support for the UK Labour Party’s shadow development minister Kate Osamor on Wednesday, after she tweeted approval of BDS, the boycott, divestment and sanctions movement.
The movement aims to hold Israel to account for its violations of Palestinians rights.
Osamor over the weekend tweeted “BDS movement #Freedom #Justice #Equality” – the hashtags standing for the three demands of the Palestinian-led BDS movement.
“We welcome Kate Osamor’s statement of support for the employment of BDS towards Israel until it recognizes the equal rights of Palestinians and ends its violation of their human rights and of international law,” the Palestine Solidarity Campaign’s director Ben Jamal told The Electronic Intifada.
Osamor also retweeted a tweet by BDS South Africa which stated that similar tactics had helped the struggle against apartheid in their country:
Sanctions helped us S.Africans in attaining our political liberation, BDS is contributing toward's nonviolently holding Israel accountable for its violations of international law. Thanks from South Africa @KateOsamor for supporting this international peoples movement. Amandla! ✊
Osamor’s public support for BDS highlights an apparent split in the party’s shadow cabinet. A left-winger who represents a constituency in North London, Osamor is a strong ally of Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn.
Her endorsement runs counter to shadow foreign minister Emily Thornberry, who last month gave a speech to Labour Friends of Israel in which she claimed – echoing common Israeli propaganda – that BDS is “bigotry.”
In a 2015 interview with The Electronic Intifada when he was running for the leadership, Corbyn expressed support for key parts of the BDS movement, including an arms embargo and a boycott of Israeli universities involved in arms research.
On Wednesday, a spokesperson for Corbyn told The Electronic Intifada that the “quotes stand.” Meanwhile, The Guardian quoted a spokesperson saying Corbyn “doesn’t support BDS,” only “targeted action aimed at illegal settlements and occupied territories” – but standing by Osamor’s right to support BDS.
Asked to clarify, the spokesperson said that Corbyn still “supports targeted boycotts of those Israeli academic institutions involved in arms research and surveillance of the Palestinian population.” The spokesperson last month also told The Electronic Intifada that Corbyn stood by the 2015 interview.
Labour Friends of Israel’s chair Joan Ryan condemned Osamor on Wednesday, calling on her to withdraw her support for BDS, claiming it “seeks to demonize” Israel – another common Israeli government talking point.
Labour Friends of Israel is a lobby group within the UK’s main opposition party that coordinates closely with the Israeli embassy.
In an undercover Al Jazeera documentary in January, Ryan was caught on camera faking an incident of anti-Semitism against a Palestine Solidarity Campaign activist at the 2016 Labour conference.
Updated with further Corbyn spokesperson quote.

Mohammed bin Salman Doesn’t Want to Talk About Jerusalem


Saudi Arabia's rulers have lots of worries, but Trump's announcement about the holy city isn't one of them.

Muslim worshippers walk in front of the Dome of the Rock shrine in Jerusalem on July 30, 2008. (Ahed Izhiman/AFP/Getty Images)Muslim worshippers walk in front of the Dome of the Rock shrine in Jerusalem on July 30, 2008. (Ahed Izhiman/AFP/Getty Images) 

No automatic alt text available.BY  

Saudi Arabia, the protector of Islam and home to its two holiest sites, is a good place to judge the impact on President Donald Trump’s recognition of Jerusalem as Israel’s capital on U.S. interests in the region.

Set aside the reaction of terrorist groups like Hamas and Hezbollah, and their state sponsors in Tehran and Damascus. And the angry responses from the Palestinian Authority and the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, with its large and boisterous Palestinian population, were certainly to be expected. The real question is how America’s friends one step removed from the circle of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict would react. If there were a place one might reasonably expect to hear Muslims expressing thunderous outrage at the handing of Jerusalem to the Jews, it would be in the corridors of power in the Saudi capital of Riyadh.

It didn’t happen.

Last week, I was in Riyadh leading a delegation of more than 50 supporters and fellows of the Middle East think tank I direct. On Wednesday, just hours before the president made his Jerusalem announcement, we spent five hours in meetings with three different Saudi ministers, discussing everything from crises with Yemen, Qatar, and Lebanon, to the kingdom’s ambitious “Vision 2030” reform program, to the possible public offering of the state oil company Aramco.

By this time, the White House had delivered numerous background briefings to foreign diplomats and the media, so the essence of the impending declaration was well known. But despite many opportunities, the word “Jerusalem” was never uttered.

Perhaps the Saudis are waiting to unload in our final meeting on the day, I thought, during a conversation with the secretary-general of the Muslim World League (MWL). For decades, this organization has been notorious for propagating an extreme version of Islam — funding schools, mosques, and other religious institutions that have served as incubators for Sunni jihadis. Surely, the head of the MWL would denounce America’s assault on the sanctity of Muslim control of Jerusalem.

To my amazement, the relatively new MWL head, Muhammad Al-Issa, had a very different message. Mention of Jerusalem never passed his lips. Instead, he noted with pride the friendships he has built with rabbis in Europe and America

, the visit he recently made to a synagogue in Paris, and the interfaith dialogue to which he said he was now committed. This was not your father’s Saudi Arabia.

Then, it dawned on me: Maybe the Saudis are waiting to hear precisely what President Trump says in his statement, hoping that last-minute entreaties would convince him to change course. Since the president didn’t speak until 9 p.m. Riyadh time, I went to bed that night confident we would soon see the fire and brimstone of the “old” Saudi Arabia.

When we received confirmation the following morning that we would have an audience with Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman — deputy prime minister, minister of defense, president of the council of economic and development affairs, and favorite son of the king — we knew we would get an authoritative answer.

Mohammed bin Salman has promised fast, revolutionary change in a country where, historically, nothing moves fast and “revolutionary” is a dirty word. And he has already shown he is a doer, not just a talker, by successfully concentrating virtually all the kingdom’s political, military, and economic power in his own hands. This is where the buck stops in Saudi Arabia these days.
A word about meeting Mohammed bin Salman: In a country not known for retail politics, he has the natural skills of a born politician. Though dressed in a thawb and sandals, he was very Bill Clintonesque (from the pre-vegan era, that is) in his stature and charisma. He is a large man, yet he bounded into our tight meeting room and immediately pounded the flesh. And when I ended the meeting after 80 minutes so we wouldn’t miss our departing flight, he stuck around to work the room again, shaking hands until there were no hands left to shake.

It is easy to see why all the young people we met in Riyadh — college students, aspiring entrepreneurs, rising technocrats — are smitten with Mohammed bin Salman. I have met quite a few Middle East leaders over the years and only a few, like Jordan’s King Hussein, knew when and how to deploy charm, wit, wisdom, outrage, despair, and hope like a virtuoso. Mohammed bin Salman has that too, coupled with a dynamism that I have rarely ever seen in this part of the world.

Though he clearly speaks and understands English, he chose to address us in Arabic, and after a few sentences, I understood why. When he opened his mouth, words flowed out in a torrent, like water rushing over rapids. Mohammed bin Salman has a lot to say — about jettisoning entrenched but non-Islamic ideas about separating women and men, about containing Iran now or fighting them later, and about a hundred other topics — and doesn’t seem to have a lot of time to say it. Given how many people he has sidelined along his rise to the top, it may be a well-founded fear.

It is not apparent that Jerusalem was one of those topics. If we hadn’t asked him directly about Trump’s announcement, it may never have come up.

 He certainly didn’t come to the meeting to vent.

But we wanted to leave Riyadh with a clear sense of his view on the issue, so we asked him. To maintain a measure of confidentiality, I won’t quote him directly, but I can say this: He limited himself to a single word of disappointment about the President’s decision — literally — and then quickly turned to where Riyadh and Washington could work together to limit the fallout and restore hope to the Israeli-Palestinian peace process.

He didn’t stop there. On a day widely characterized as one of the darkest for U.S. relations with the Arab world in decades, Mohammed bin Salman offered a very different vision for both the Saudi-American relationship and a potential for Saudi-Israeli partnership.

On the former, he repeatedly affirmed the strength of the security partnership, which he proudly noted was the oldest in the region — even older than the one between the United States and Israel. And on Israel itself, he struck an unusually positive note. Unlike what I heard from Saudi leaders on past visits, he said nothing about Israeli expansionism, Israeli arrogance, Israeli unfairness, or Israeli encroachment on Muslim rights in Jerusalem. Instead, he spoke of the promising future that awaited Saudi-Israeli relations once peace was reached and, operationally, he committed himself to bringing that about.

That was it: the official Saudi view. Expecting a stern critique of the United States and a visceral denunciation of Trump, we heard instead a mild rebuke of the President’s Jerusalem shift and a hopeful vision of Saudi-Israeli partnership. We didn’t have the opportunity to press Mohammed bin Salman on precisely what the Saudis would do to urge the Palestinian Authority to reach a deal with the Israelis, but at such a moment, hearing the Saudi crown prince double down on both the current partnership with Washington and, when peace comes, the future one with Jerusalem was more than we expected.

Was Mohammed bin Salman merely delivering what his audience wanted to hear? Perhaps. Our delegation was certainly electrified by his engaging personality and what he had to say. We were especially impressed by his pursuit of a “moderate Islam” and his claim to have dramatically shrunk the number of extremists in Saudi religious institutions. He offered specific percentages of how bad the problem was two years ago and how much smaller he expects it to be three years from now; to my ears, this amounted to a stark admission of Saudi responsibility for religious fanaticism and a powerful sign of their commitment to change.

Admittedly, some of his rhetoric sounded too good to be true. From my vantage point, it doesn’t appear that the Saudis have made as much progress countering Iran’s influence in Iraq or turning the tide in Yemen as they claim. And many of us came away fearful that a leader so ambitious could achieve progress fast enough to maintain the ongoing support of his people — but not so fast as to trigger a violent reaction from those who will lose out as a result of the vast transformation.

But if Mohammed bin Salman did say what we wanted to hear, so what? The opposite could just have easily been the case — namely, that he could have used the occasion to send a piercing message through us to American leaders and to friends of the U.S.-Israel relationship about the high costs of recognizing Jerusalem as Israel’s capital. He didn’t, and that matters a great deal.

Those who prophesied that the Arab and Muslim response to recognizing Jerusalem as Israel’s capital would be apocalyptic — waves of anti-American demonstrations, mass violence against U.S. citizens, institutions and interests, and the final and irrevocable end of American influence in the region — seem to have been totally wrong. Among the Arabs that count — America’s allies — the reaction has generally been sober, measured, and mature. Saudi Arabia, the birthplace of Islam, is the case in point.

UN Chief: Reporter Arrests Show "Erosion" of Press Freedom in Myanmar

In this image released by the Myanmar Ministry of Information and broadcast by Myanmar's MRTV, on Dec. 13, 2017, Reuters reporters Wa Lone, left, and Kyaw Soe Oo stand handcuffed in Myanmar.
In this image released by the Myanmar Ministry of Information and broadcast by Myanmar's MRTV, on Dec. 13, 2017, Reuters reporters Wa Lone, left, and Kyaw Soe Oo stand handcuffed in Myanmar.

 December 14, 2017 8:48 AM
U.N. Secretary-General Antonio Guterres said Thursday that the arrest of two Reuters journalists in Myanmar is a signal that press freedom is shrinking in the country.
Guterres also expressed his concern over human rights violations in Rakhine state, saying the journalists were "probably" arrested "because they were reporting on what they have seen in relation to what he called a massive human tragedy.
FILE - Rohingya Muslim children, who crossed over from Myanmar into Bangladesh, are squashed together as they wait to receive food handouts distributed to children and women by a Turkish aid agency at Thaingkhali refugee camp, Bangladesh, Oct. 21, 2017.
Journalists Wa Lone and Kyaw Soe Oo were arrested late Tuesday in the main city of Yangon and charged with violating the Official Secrets Act. The journalists allegedly planned "to send important security documents regarding security forces in Rakhine state to foreign agencies abroad," according to the government's Myanmar Press Council.
Wa Lone's wife Ma Pan Ei told VOA Burmese that the family has received no information about her husband's condition.
The Executive Director of the Committee to Protect Journalists Joel Simon told VOA Burmese that his organization has called on authorities to release the reporters unconditionally and immediately, adding that the arrests come amid a widening crackdown which is having a grave impact on the ability of journalists to cover a story of vital global importance.
FILE - Rohingya refugees jostle as they line up for a blanket distribution under heavy rainfall at the Balukhali camp near Cox's Bazar, Bangladesh, Dec. 11, 2017.
​The northern part of the Rakhine state is the focal point of Myanmar's military campaign that has pushed more than 625,000 minority Rohingya Muslims into neighboring Bangladesh. The operation that began in August in response to attacks on police outposts has been denounced by the United Nations as "ethnic cleansing."
The military and the civilian government have prohibited most journalists and international observers from traveling independently to the area.
Human Rights Watch has condemned the arrests of the two Reuters reporters and echoed calls for their release.
U.S. State Department spokesperson Heather Nauert said that Washington is watching the situation closely.
According to the driver who took the two journalists to a suburb of Yangon where they were invited to a dinner with local policemen, the men went to a nearby restaurant with two officers and did not come back.
Wa Lone joined Reuters in 2016 and has covered the Rohingya refugee crisis and a variety of other stories. Kyaw Soe Oo joined the media outlet in September.
Violations of the Officials Secrets Act, which became law during the country's colonial era of the 1920's, is punishable by up to 14 years in prison.
VOA Burmese service contributed to this report.

On Syrian Nationalism

This endless perpetuation of masculine nationalism happens not just in the classroom and the military training camp, but in everyday spaces too.

by Rahaf Aldoughli-
( December 14, 2017, Boston, Sri Lanka Guardian) To truly “belong” to Syria, you have to be masculine – especially in a time of war. And throughout the country’s catastrophic six-year conflict, the same macho message has been driven home repeatedly.
The current Syrian president, Bashar al-Assad, laid it out boldly in a landmark speech on July 26 2015, in which he emphasised the relationship between sacrificial heroism, militarism, national membership and belonging. As he put it: “The fatherland is not for those who live in it or hold its nationality, but for those who defend and protect it,” pointing out that “the army, in order to be able to perform its duties and counter terrorism, must be supported by the human element.”
The major themes that coursed through the speech still hold sway. Syria is a “fatherland” for which Syrian men should be ready to die; their self-sacrifice requires martial ability and physical strength, both of which are tests of national loyalty. And at the centre of it all is the army, whose accomplishments Syrians are required to appreciate. In other words, the ideal Syrian is a martial man.
And just as these ideas are at the forefront of the Syrian conflict, they will be very familiar to any ordinary Syrian. Assad’s invigorated nationalism is a highly amplified and intensified version of the same nationalist ideology that we have all experienced over the last four decades.

Boys’ club

As a Syrian, I encountered nationalism all the way through my primary and secondary school education. The male pupils were conscripted to two organisations affiliated with the Assads’ Ba’ath Party: in primary school, the Syrian National Organisation for Childhood (tala’e’e), and in high school, the Revolutionary Youth Union (al-shabibah). These two organisations would mobilise boys through enforced training and then membership of paramilitary groups.
In the classroom, we sat through a lesson every week about how to become an active Ba’athist by using a Kalashnikov rifle, and how to show our love for both the nation and the leader, particularly through celebrating a physically strong body.
A compulsory 15-day summer camp gave male students extra time to learn about the soldierly life, in an attempt to prepare them for compulsory army conscription when they finished high school. Meanwhile, we female students attended sessions that taught us about the glorious past of our nation – a story told entirely through the heroic deeds of men.
During enforced mass marches to celebrate the “great leader”, at the time, Bashar al-Assad’s father, Hafez, we learned by heart the slogan: “With blood and soul, we sacrifice ourselves for you, Hafez.” We were taught nationalist songs celebrating the heroic deeds of men and their strength and bravery, reinforcing the idea that the nation was built only by men’s accomplishments.

The nation of men

This cult of masculinity necessarily obscures the achievements of Syrian women, and relegates them to a supporting role. Their part in the national story is to respect and revere their protective patriarchs, with Hafez and then Bashar al-Assad positioned as all Syrians’ ultimate fathers, protectors and leaders.
And even to the extent that Syrian nationalism is demonstrated through familial love, this love can only be accomplished in masculine terms – and only by the patriotic men who serve as great soldiers of the nation.
This endless perpetuation of masculine nationalism happens not just in the classroom and the military training camp, but in everyday spaces too. Walking along the streets in any Syrian city, the aura of male strength and heroism is everywhere; khaki is the dominant colour, and portraits of Hafez al-Assad are on prominent display.
With Syria still embroiled in all-consuming conflict, the Syrian people face many scenarios that carry a particular set of nationalistic sentiments. Many hope that even if the current regime survives, it will lose its power to shape and control a national narrative of any sort.
The ConversationBut that only raises the difficult question of what the Syrian nation even is, and how Syrians can organise a sense of national love and belonging in what promises to be a close-to-unrecognisable future.
Rahaf Aldoughli, Lecturer in Modern Middle Eastern History, University of Manchester
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.