I was going to write more, but I’ve decided to let the image speak for itself.

If people in the Middle East could democratically choose what country they lived in, would they choose the one they are in now?

Amidst all the talk of an Arab Spring, the fragility of the Arab state is often forgotten.

Whereas developed countries are almost always the product of an organic, internally driven process, in the Middle East’s case, the countries are mostly the product of a British-French agreement made in 1916 (Sykes-Picot) that paid little attention to local sociopolitical realities. As a result, few possess the historical roots, social cohesion, and legitimacy necessary to nurture the complex institutions that are a prerequisite for development and democracy. On the contrary, most suffer from both sectarian divisions and weak government—the causes of state fragility.

As Michael Hudson, Professor Emeritus at Georgetown University, explained in his classic study of the “legitimacy shortage” in Arab politics:

A legitimate political order . . . has to be [based on] some consensus about national identity, some agreement about the boundaries of the political community, and some collective understanding of national priorities. If the population within given political boundaries is so deeply divided within itself on ethnic or class [or, for that matter, religious or clan] lines, or if the demands of a larger supranational community are compelling to some [significant] portion of it, then it is extremely difficult to develop a legitimate order. [page 389-90]

Without authoritative political structures endowed with ‘rightness’ and efficacity, political life is certain to be violent and unpredictable. [page 4]

As I explained in my book on fragile states, these two structural problems—political identity fragmentation and weak national institutions—reinforce each other in a vicious cycle, severely undermining the legitimacy of the state and leading to political orders that are highly unstable and hard to reform.

Not all Arab countries suffer from these problems. Egypt, for instance, has deep historical roots and is therefore relatively cohesive. Morocco, Tunisia, and many of the small Gulf emirates (with the obvious exception of Bahrain) are also in pretty good shape by this standard.

The situation is most acute in places such as Libya, Syria, Yemen, and Iraq—all of which potentially face years of instability. Iraq has the Shiites, Sunnis, and Kurds. Syria has five main groups—Sunni Arabs, Alawis, Christians, Kurds, and Druze—many of which have their own divisions. Libya has 140 tribes and clans. And none of these states have a robust government apparatus that can competently implement laws and regulations in an equitable, independent manner—which would reduce the tension between groups. Whatever capacity they had was—or is being—decimated by regime change.

Lebanon and Jordan are not necessarily stable, but in better condition. Residents of the former already know the dangers of sectarianism from the country’s long civil war—and therefore will work harder than others to avoid a repeat.

The real wild card in the region is Saudi Arabia. Although it is not a product of colonialism, the country does have religious and tribal divisions and a government that may be seen by some as illegitimate.

The social divisions, weak institutionalization, and artificiality that plague all these states begs the question that I posed at the top: If people in the Middle East could democratically choose what country they lived in, would they choose the one they are in now?

The ballot box has already produced two changes to the map in recent years. The West Bank and Gaza split up because of an election. Sudan has been divided by a referendum.

If the Kurds were given the right to choose, they would secede from Iraq (as well as from Syria, Iran, and Turkey). The same might hold true for the people of South Yemen (independent until 1990), eastern Saudi Arabia, and so on. Groups that have strong identities, have historically felt disadvantaged by their minority positions, and live in a relatively coherent and homogenous area pose the greatest risks to the unity of the region’s states.

One creative effort a few years back to identify how the Middle East might change if the people could choose their own country produced the above map.

Obviously, most of the changes suggested are not going to happen. The process would yield much bloodshed, destabilize neighboring countries, and disrupt oil supplies. Most powers inside and outside the region oppose changes to borders for precisely these reasons.

In some cases, however, if the transition could be done relatively peacefully (think Czechoslovakia, not Yugoslavia), the peoples of both the seceding and seceded from areas might be better off. Libyans, for instance, might have an easier time building a robust state if they were working with two or even three different entities, each of which would be much more cohesive than the country is in its current form.

Although democracy must remain the ultimate goal, strategies to help fragile states emerging from long periods of imposed stability must be highly flexible if they are to succeed. Inclusiveness in politics, economics, and culture need to take priority, especially during difficult transition periods. Finding mechanisms to increase the robustness and impartiality of crucial government institutions are key if the state is to gain any credibility. Although people clamor for fast transitions, their long-term interests may be better served by extending the process over many years.

The Arab Spring will take a long time to play out—and the challenges the return of history has brought to light will not be easy to overcome.

Tuesday should be a dramatic day in the UN Security Council.  Hillary Clinton, William Hague and Alan Juppé are all jetting in for a debate on Syria and the Europeans are set to table a resolution calling for a political transition in Damascus that Russia is determined to veto.  China will probably do so too.  Smash, bang, wallop.

What are the Europeans up to here?  Last week, I published a commentary for the EU Institute for Security Studies summarizing the European strategy towards Syria:

European policymakers have recognised that they are not best-placed to mediate a final political settlement to the crisis. Instead, they have ceded political responsibility to the Arab League, which has gradually hardened its stance against Assad and has even called for him to stand aside (although the League has not been firm enough for some of members, such as Qatar and Saudi Arabia). Meanwhile the EU’s policies have included (i) backing UN and League attempts to monitor the situation in Syria in an effort to restrain the Assad government; (ii) putting pressure on Damascus through sanctions; and (iii) using debates at the Security Council and the wider UN system to reinforce the case for pressure. 

Even though the Security Council debates have rendered almost nothing concrete (except for a mildly worded presidential statement cooked up by the IBSA countries last August) the Europeans have arguably utilized the UN route quite cleverly:

Although frustrated by Sino-Russian obstructionism, European diplomats have chosen to use the Security Council as a platform to publicise the case against Assad. In October, having tried to find compromise language on sanctions, they tabled a mildly-worded resolution in the knowledge that China and Russia would veto it. This ostensibly self-defeating strategy (which the U.S. had doubts about) has at least pushed Moscow and Beijing to try and legitimise their defense of Damascus. Russia has served up a series of resolutions of its own, calling for an end to violence but making no reference to sanctions. 

In the meantime, resolutions condemning Syria’s actions have been passed by large majorities in both the Human Right Council and UN General Assembly – forums that are usually hostile to Western positions. In the final quarter of 2011, the Arab League used the threat of pushing for Security Council action (as it did very effectively over Libya) to persuade Assad to accept its observer mission. 

So even if Russia and China use their veto again this week, the Europeans will keep coming back to the Council for public relations reasons.  I think this is a cunning strategy, although it will fuel talk about the decline of the Council as a serious decision-making body.  It’s remarkable to think that it’s only ten months since the Council was being praised for OK-ing the Libyan campaign.

European ministers are meeting today to discuss an oil embargo on Iran.  The run-up to the meeting has been dogged by reports that some impoverished EU members – notably Italy and Greece – have questioned the initiative.  The Iranians may think that the EU won’t do them real damage, as I point out in a new column for E!Sharp:

There is a general impression that the EU would not hurt a fly.  Instead, it might launch a strategic partnership with the fly, hold annual meetings with the little creature, and possibly fund a Brussels-based think-tank to produce a report entitled “Achieving a Sustainable EU-Fly Relationship by 2025”.

That is the image that many EU officials want to project.  “The strength of the EU lies, paradoxically, in its inability to throw its weight around,” Catherine Ashton declared in February last year. “In short, the EU has soft power with a hard edge – more than the power to set a good example and promote our values. But less than the power to impose its will.”  Yet the EU was throwing its weight around just then.

The EU’s top target one year ago was Laurent Gbagbo, who was refusing to accept the UN’s decision that he had lost elections in Côte d’Ivoire in November 2010.  A brutal but wily operator, Gbagbo had unleashed thugs on his opponents, menaced UN peacekeepers and bamboozled African mediators.

But the UN had mandated sanctions against his regime and the EU took the lead in implementing them.  In a very un-European moment of nastiness, Ashton’s spokesperson told a reporter that the “priority is on the economic asphyxia of Gbagbo’s regime.”  When I read that menacing line, I wanted to cheer.

Things turned out pretty badly for Mr Gbagbo, who was undercut by the EU sanctions and is now at the ICC.  The Syrian regime is also struggling with Euro-sanctions:

The EU first imposed sanctions on individual Syrian officials as violence in the country escalated in May last year, but raised the stakes by deciding to stop importing Syrian oil in the autumn.  Although the Syrian regime has held on to power – and continued its vicious campaign against protestors – the EU’s sanctions have had an impact.  Companies like Shell have pulled out.  With its energy sector under siege, Damascus has struggled to supply its own population with fuel.  The Financial Times reports that the price of subsidized cooking gas for normal Syrians had now tripled.

Syria’s President Assad has accused the Europeans of persecuting innocent civilians.  Nobody should be proud that poor Syrians have been affected by the price hikes – even leaving ethical issues aside, it is arguable that some citizens feel greater solidarity with the regime in the face of EU pressure.   But Côte d’Ivoire and Syria both show that, at least when it comes to sanctions, the EU has more than “soft power with a hard edge”.  It has straightforward hard power – even if it is economic not military.

Iran is, of course, a rather tougher target.  But the EU may do it real damage.

As everyone starts to freak out about what it would mean for the UK – with its high gas import dependency on Qatar and low gas storage capacity – if Iran closed the Straits of Hormuz, Chatham House’s Paul Stevens has a useful corrective in this morning’s FT. There are two key reasons why Iran is unlikely to try to block the Straits, he argues:

The first reason to believe Iran might stop short of closing the strait is simply because such a move would fail. Cutting off Gulf oil supplies represents an existential threat to the west that it would have to use force to counter. The response, if transit were seriously threatened, would rapidly degenerate into a shooting war between Iran and the US supported by many of its allies. While oil prices might reach unprecedented new levels, the US Navy would quickly restore access.

The second reason is that a serious threat to close Hormuz is arguably the principal Iranian deterrent against a military attack by the US or Israel on its nuclear facilities. So to use it in response to an EU oil embargo would be using that proverbial sledgehammer to crack a pistachio nut.

And in any case, he goes on, “Iran does have other options to retaliate. It could intensify pressure on oil prices by contributing to the instability in Iraq that has followed the US troop withdrawal as the Shia ruling clique has begun a de facto war of attrition against the Sunnis.”

All this said, Stevens is also heavily sceptical about whether the EU’s embargo on Iran will actually work:

History is littered with failed oil embargoes, ranging from Cuba, Rhodesia and South Africa to the embargo against Iraq after 1990.It is also worth highlighting that an EU oil embargo would greatly strengthen the regime of Mahmoud Ahmadi-Nejad at a time when it is under considerable pressure, especially with the parliamentary elections looming in March. Unemployment remains high, as does inflation, which has been greatly aggravated by the removal of many price subsidies in the past twelve months. Also in the past few weeks, the value of the Iranian rial against the dollar has fallen dramatically.

Two weeks ago, I blogged about the Arab League’s observer mission in Syria, and argued that it was likely to struggle.  And struggle it certainly has.  Last Friday, I wrote a short piece for Foreign Policy summarizing the mission’s numerous woes:

The Syrian opposition claims that the roughly 100 monitors, deployed to oversee the army’s withdrawal from urban areas, have been manipulated and fed disinformation by the government. There have been accusations that the military has used the observers’ presence as a cover for increased violence. Perhaps most notoriously, the League selected a Sudanese general associated with the war in Darfur to lead the mission. The observers, dressed in brightly-colored waistcoats and armed only with digital cameras, often look lost and ineffectual.

In any plausible scenario, the monitors were never going to have a decisive impact on Syria. Although the Syrian government promised that it would halt military operations against civilians in December, few analysts took this promise seriously. A handful of observers were not going to change political calculations in Damascus, especially as they have neither their own guards nor secure communications equipment — leaving them excessively reliant on Syrian assistance to monitor and report anything at all.

But one week ago, it still seemed too early to write off the mission.  Since then, however, the operation has given a very good impression of imploding.  One observer has publicly condemned the mission:

An Arab League official has launched a scathing attack on the regional body’s mission to Syria, claiming it has been powerless to prevent “multiple crimes against humanity” from being committed by troops loyal to the regime of President Bashar al-Assad.  Anwar Malek, an Algerian member of the team, said the observer mission was becoming a farce. He said it was not acting independently and was serving the regime’s interests.

And even the Arab League’s top man sounds defeatist:

The Arab League chief has cast further doubt on the delegation his organisation has sent to monitor the crisis in Syria, describing ongoing violence as “very worrisome” and saying the mission was not going to plan.

Even the Syrian government hates the damn thing:

The Syrian president, Bashar al-Assad, has also condemned the delegation, describing it as ineffective and a key element of a broad international conspiracy against his embattled country.

So the mission, which is meant to produce a full report by 19 January, may struggle to keep going until then.   But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.  As I argued in my Foreign Policy piece, the mission’s true role may not to be oversee a (now entirely discredited) peace agreement, but to concentrate international attention on just how awful things are in Syria:

While the observers may be failing in their stated goal — to help ensure that the Syrian army halts attacks on civilians — they have already played a significant role in underlining the brutality and untrustworthiness of the Syrian regime. There was previously copious evidence of the regime’s violence from refugees, human rights activists, undercover journalists, and U.N. reports. But the observer mission’s presence has magnified outside awareness of these abuses, especially because the media have tracked the observers’ every move. Although the mission’s leadership has mishandled relations with the press, individual observers have been frank with journalists about abuses they have witnessed and the limitations they are under — effectively circumnavigating the constraints on their formal reporting lines.

The fact that atrocities appear to be ongoing while the observers are in place also raises the diplomatic stakes. Arab politicians and commentators have already demanded that the mission should withdraw in protest at Syria’s behavior, and the monitors’ public difficulties will surely increase tensions between Damascus and the rest of the League. It is a sad truth of international politics that governments and international organizations are often far more concerned about attacks on their own credibility than human rights abuses. The Arab League, having won a new degree of credibility by taking a tough stance on Libya nearly a year ago, now finds its reputation tied to its observers’ performance in Syria.

If the Arab League wants to maintain some respect, it should now make a point of stating quite clearly that the Syrian government has made the observers’ work impossible – and call on the UN to take action as a consequence.  The League’s mission has been a mess, but I still believe it may have an important role in triggering a real response to this grim crisis.

Financial woes add an extra layer of drama to one of the most important stories to watch in 2012.

Egypt’s reserves have dropped for 11 straight months, to almost half of what they were before the Arab Spring began. By the end of January they are expected to fall to as little as $15 billion, only enough for two months of imports given that $5 billion is already committed for other international obligations.

This reflects the broader strains of a sputtering economy:

The instability has hit the tourism industry hard, scaring visitors away from the country’s historic monuments and sunny beaches. Foreign investment has stalled as investors in energy projects, construction and other sectors wait to learn whether the military leadership will remain in power or be overthrown in a “second revolution” that activists called for last month. Although parliamentary elections are underway, and a presidential election is expected by June, it remains unclear which party will govern the country, what its economic policy will be and how much power the military will cede.

“The light at the end of the tunnel is not clear yet,” said Magda a-Sayyid Kandil of the Egyptian Center for Economic Studies. “We are still going through a period of instability.”

Unemployment has reached 11.9 percent, its highest rate in 10 years, and analysts say the true figure is much higher.

Some economists are now predicting that unless Egypt comes up with some form of external financing soon, it will face both a currency and a budget crunch in the first quarter of 2012.

The country’s problems are not unique. All the Arab countries that have faced tumult over the past year share them to varying degrees. Even Tunisia, which has had the easiest transition, is struggling to right its economy:

But as the national economy festers dangerously, the new government’s main challenge will be to tackle rising unemployment and sagging revenue from tourism.

Things are much worse in Yemen and Syria. Both will see more bloodshed in the coming months. Neither is likely to stabilize in 2012.

In Egypt’s case, the government will resist the reforms necessary to bring its finances into line. The army will not want to further reduce its sagging popularity during the fraught political transition, especially given its desire to retain a dominant position in the country.

Reducing the government’s massive budget deficit, now running at about 11 percent of GDP, requires cutting the huge amount of money it spends subsidizing the basic necessities—most notably bread, but also rice, sugar, cooking oil, and fuel—that most people depend on. Three quarters of Egypt’s 80 million people buy subsidized loaves of bread, costing the country $5.5 billion in fiscal year 2010-11 alone.

The result will not be pretty. As one diplomat in Cairo said:

The political situation will not be conducive to fixing the economy. We quite possibly will have people back on the street. It will be hard to take austerity measures. The political hit for any austerity in the next six months would be pretty big.

If the looming crisis forces the government to bring in the IMF, it may weaken the military’s position in its negotiations with the Muslim Brotherhood after the elections. Whoever controls power after these will in any case have to concentrate on rebooting the economy and attracting foreign tourists and investment, limiting their ability to push an overly Islamist agenda, at least in the economic and foreign policy spheres. Such conditions may also force Egypt to act leniently with former President Mubarak, as this would probably increase Saudi aid.

The economy is unlikely to see a dramatic turnaround as long as protesters prevent a return to stability, which partly explains why the recent rallies have much less support in the country than those of a year ago.

There is no easy way out. As Richard Haas, president of the Council on Foreign Relations, wrote in a recent op-ed:

As difficult as it can be to oust a repressive regime, it is far harder to put something better and enduring in its place. History is replete with deposed leaders whose immediate or ultimate successors were as bad or worse. The Soviets who succeeded the czars come to mind; so, too, do the ayatollahs who came after the shah in Iran. For all the flaws of the ousted, it is hard if not impossible to argue that the alternative left the country’s citizens or neighbors better off. . . .

We don’t know if this will happen in those Middle Eastern countries that overthrew their longtime rulers in 2011. Tunisia has carried out relatively fair and peaceful parliamentary elections with a strong showing by Islamist parties; how they will rule is unclear. Libya has the challenge of building national institutions where none existed. Complicating the future are tribal frictions and the availability of weapons; the potential for oil revenue makes future prospects more promising. Egypt will be the most important test. . . .

Certainly, democracy for the region is a worthy goal. But outsiders would be wise to place at least as much emphasis on protecting and establishing the prerequisites of democracy — the rule of law, a constitution with true checks and balances, robust civil society, open markets — as they do on elections. . . .

Can anyone add some on-the-ground reporting from Egypt? How do people feel a year after the overthrow of Mubarak?

To find out how world peace was coming along I rose early this morning (not easy after a New Year’s Eve engaged in one of the marathon rakı and cards sessions of which middle-aged Turks are so fond) to attend mass at the local Armenian church.

That it is possible to write such a sentence is a small miracle. A century ago, the port town of Iskenderun in southern Turkey had a thriving population of Armenians. Today there are just one hundred left – ten of them joined me, bleary-eyed, at mass. Their church, founded in the late nineteenth century, reopened in 2011 having been closed for decades due to the absence of a priest. It owes its resurrection to an earnest young member of the community who, fearful that without a focal point the old traditions would die out, decided to fill the gap, and went to Lebanon and Jerusalem to be trained as a priest. He now ministers to the small church of Iskenderun and the even smaller chapel of a nearby village, the last Armenian settlement in Turkey.

During a break in the three hour-long service, the elderly man sitting next to me introduces himself and asks my business. Within a minute or two, unprompted, he remarks that ‘this country has done terrible things to Christians.’ In 1916, he tells me, his parents had been forced to flee to Iskenderun from the interior. Turkish soldiers were killing Armenians in the surrounding region, and in anticipation of the troops’ arrival the people of his village had begun to join in. This was the beginning of a series of events described by Armenians and most of the world as genocide and by Turks, unconvincingly, as war. At least a million people are thought to have died in the ensuing months. Iskenderun itself was not immune to the killings, the old man says, but because it was a French protectorate at the time it provided a safer haven than much of the rest of the country.

Today the town continues to be a welcoming home to its small Armenian population. The priest tells me that he and his congregants have no problems with their fellow townspeople, nearly all of whom are Turks, and that Iskenderun is a fine place for Armenians to live. In recent months the oafish political posturing of Sarkozy has dominated the Armenia-Turkey debate, but as we enter what is likely to be a turbulent new year the resilience and endurance of Iskenderun’s Armenian community tells a more positive, constructive story. A Happy New Year to all.