Security Assistance in the Middle East: Challenges and the Need for Change

Security Assistance in the Middle East: Challenges and the Need for Change (SAME for short) is a volume of articles about military aid in what the book’s editors, Hicham Alaoui and Robert Springborg, characterize as the most insecure and militarized region in the world. It is written mainly by academics for academics and, as the title indicates, it is limited to one area of the world.It deserves a much wider readership as it has important lessons that apply not just to the countries in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) but also to the rest of Africa, Latin America, and other parts of the world. What is more significant is that these lessons are unlikely to learned, and the book explains why. If the realities of providing security assistance explained in the book had been realized in the past, it might have spared America from its ignominious withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021. More recently, the forced withdrawal of American forces from Niger is another example of the result of the problems that run throughout the pages of SAME.The editors begin the book with an overview of the way security assistance (SA) affects MENA. The list of negative impacts of SA is extensive. It retards economic development, contributes to growing authoritarianism, provides the means to suppress government critics and monitor social media, tilts the civil-military relationship even further in favor of the military, facilitates greater military involvement in the economy, encourages the arms race in the region, impairs regional integration across the board, and helps tighten the grip of elites on the politics and economy of the countries in question. They add that SA is neither popular at home nor particularly effective abroad.Given that litany of faults, it is worth asking why the wealthy democracies, which are collectively referred to as the West, provide such assistance and why MENA countries are generally eager to receive it. Shouldn’t SA be provided by the West to help MENA countries defend themselves against threats to national security in a way that does not have so many detrimental effects?As Glenn Robinson argues in his chapter, MENA countries want SA for political rather than security reasons. That can prompt them to avoid reform rather than embracing it when the ultimate goal is a desire to protect the regime in power rather than the nation as a whole. He distinguishes between three types of MENA states—oil monarchies, repressive republics, and flawed democracies. In comparing them, he makes clear that the more authoritarian the country, the less likely it is that SA will improve the capability or behavior of the military. The more authoritarian the MENA country, the more armed forces will work to preserve ethnic and tribal hierarchies rather than provide for the general defense. An excellent example of this is Jordan, whose army Sean Yom describes as having “long been one of Jordan’s biggest welfarist agencies, designed to enmesh tribal constituencies with financial and social benefits” (220).Another problem identified in SAME is the absence of strategic planning or civilian oversight in MENA military establishments even though that would bring about significant improvement. As Yezid Sayigh points out in his essay, “integrating civilians into defense affairs is not a sufficient condition to ensure better outcomes, but it is necessary” (256).Often, however, MENA political elites don’t want armed forces that can do anything beyond suppressing domestic opposition that might lead to a change in the status quo. For that reason, as several of the contributors to SAME show, those in power buy the loyalty of the military by giving them expensive weapons systems and a significant role in the economy. The former are not designed to meet an external threat but rather provide prestige and status. Saudi princes can afford a Ferrari but flying an F-16 really distinguishes them.Another means of ensuring the loyalty of the military is providing them a significant presence in the economy by offering opportunities to supplement military paychecks through monopolies or corruption. As one Egyptian officer involved in commercial activities said, “It’s not the (military) salary I’m worried about, it’s the profits!” (291). This strategy for controlling the military is not unique to MENA. In Latin American countries like Mexico, Ecuador, and Venezuela, military officers are active in commercial enterprises for personal financial gain.The obstacles to SA having a significant positive effect are therefore considerable. As SAME points out in several of its chapters, the basic problem is that MENA military establishments are inherently resistant to reform. The lack of civilian participation, involvement in lucrative nonmilitary economic activities, absence of strategic planning (which might reveal the weapons systems they wish to acquire do not respond to the threats the country faces), and structure reflecting political motives rather than operational ones are all obstacles that are difficult to overcome. As Sayigh noted, “external providers are caught in something of a catch-22: no matter how apolitically or incrementally they strive to enhance defense effectiveness and efficiency, they are, in effect, modifying the single most important instrument of power in a group of predominantly authoritarian states” (258).But MENA autocrats will resist any modification that lessens their grip on power. In his discussion of the political drivers for SA, Glenn Robinson underlines this with three conclusions. First, the demand for SA is largely driven by politics and not security requirements. Second, the capacity for reform doesn’t exist in countries where those in power are only interested in maintaining the system because it serves their narrow interests. Third, the more authoritarian the government, the more it will resist change.Given this bleak picture, why does the West continue to provide such assistance? The answer, as this book makes clear, is that the countries providing SA have their own motivations for providing it that also often have little to do with national defense. The US is the world’s largest exporter of military hardware and therefore has an export-oriented, industrial-military complex to maintain. Selling weapons ensures a level of access to high level decision-makers and prevents other countries, whether ally or enemy, from exerting comparable influence in the purchasing nations. Base rights, access to ports, and overflight rights are also important benefits to supplying a country with arms.Sayigh also points out that the SA providers struggle to measure what they are accomplishing. The metrics used can seem more like justifications for continuing to provide it rather than a measure of its effectiveness. In Afghanistan, for instance, terms like “building partner capacity” or “train-and-equip operations” were described at various times as pillars of US defense strategy. While this provided data for rosy progress reports, it ignored what was actually happening.American assistance providers didn’t understand and neglected to take account of the cultural, ethnic, tribal, and other factors that worked against what they were supposedly trying to accomplish. What mattered most to the US was defeating the Taliban, and it ignored those factors that made achieving that goal impossible in the long term. For instance, it led to embracing warlords like Abdul Raziq, who was profiled in a long New York Times article in May 2024 entitled “America’s Monster.”1 While a brave fighter, he was also thoroughly corrupt and engaged in extortion, murder, and drug trafficking. With allies like that, it should have come as no surprise when, even after billions had been spent on it, the Afghan army folded up like a ten-dollar tent in hurricane. The defeat of the Afghan army destroyed a fundamental goal of SA initiatives: stability.Despite the stated goal of SA to bring about stability, it can often have the opposite effect. As Noureddine Jebnoun emphasized in his contribution describing its effect in Tunisia: “The attempt to deliver stability through security assistance has led to the empowerment of the state’s coercive institutions in ways that risk undermining Tunisians’ democratic aspirations” (70).Jebnoun described how providing SA without considering the local dynamics not only can undermine democracy but can turn people against their own government. In the southern border region of Tunisia where there are few economic opportunities, informal cross-border business can be mistakenly characterized as terrorism. Attempts to suppress these activities can deprive people of their livelihood and alienate them from their government.In addition to the insights provided on the situation in Tunisia, there are separate chapters in SAME on Lebanon, Jordan, Egypt, and the Gulf Monarchies. One other very useful chapter is the one by Gaub and Walsh, which outlines the differences between the American approach to SA and that of the European Union states. One telling distinction is that the EU calls its assistance Security Sector Reform (SSR.) The difference in name highlights the difference in approach between the two types of aid. As the authors of the chapter described it: “Security assistance focuses on equipping, training, and strengthening security and military institutions as they stand, whereas SSR involves security and defense transformation” (134).This difference in emphasis results in American SA reenforcing the status quo, while the EU’s SSR tries to transform it. An argument often made in support of SA is that it encourages reform. However, opponents of it point to specific examples that demonstrate the flaw in this argument. Zeinab Abul-Magd’s chapter mentions one such instance: Abdel Fattah al-Sisi. In addition to now being on his third term as president of Egypt, he is a graduate of the US Army War College. He appears to have no interest in either leaving power or allowing space for democratic opposition instead appealing to his people with a brand of politics characterized by one of SAME’s editors as “Pharaonic nationalism.”2 Following the military coup that brought Sisi to power, the Obama administration suspended military aid. Two years later it was restored as Egypt’s impact on and role in maintaining stability in MENA was deemed more vital to American interests than human rights and democracy considerations.The debate about the reform effect of SA is not limited to MENA and has been going on for years, particularly in Latin American countries. When a number of graduates of the School of the Americas were found to be human rights violators, a protest demonstration against the school became an annual event at the gates of what was then Fort Benning in Georgia. The name of the school was changed, and a few hours of each course was devoted to lectures on human rights, but the graduates still had to return home to countries where those rights were often not respected by the governments they were defending.Given all the problems identified with the provision of SA in MENA, which the editors listed in their opening chapter, it is appropriate that they concluded the book with their chapter on how it might be changed. They don’t come up with any quick or easy solutions. Addressing the range of possible options, they start with just abandoning the region. They reject that as both unwise and unlikely to happen.On the other end of the spectrum is continuing with business as usual or to get even more aggressive and imitate some of the gray-zone tactics that Russia is employing around the world. Somewhere in between are two other proposals described by the editors. First is offshore balancing, which would call for intervention from abroad, when necessary, without a large continuing MENA presence of foreign troops. The second is placing more emphasis on a 3D strategy—diplomacy, democracy, and development, which is favored by former Secretary of Defense Robert Gates, among others.They call into question whether 3D can work, however, given that it would take an all-of-government approach. That catchphrase is uttered in Washington far more than it is implemented. Another problem in getting such a 3D policy right is overcoming the partisanship that affects every Washington decision, where some politicians will always argue that using military force is the solution to every problem abroad.The book ends with several conclusions that are somewhere between sobering and depressing. First, the search for a silver bullet to eliminate the shortcomings of SA to MENA countries is likely to be fruitless. Second, SA has encouraged militarization that has facilitated corruption and authoritarianism as well as retarded economic development. Third, Western democratic states are “the prime external supporter of authoritarian, antidemocratic MENA regimes.” Fourth, “there is no case in this book or in real life of SA to MENA having had direct, positive impacts on the democracy paradox either by reducing the clout of militaries or by increasing that of civilians” (327).In the end, the authors come up with no silver bullets but do find a few BBs. Reducing the size of the militaries in MENA states, more coordination between Western SA providers, and better synchronization between the Pentagon, State, and USAID would all help, but how these steps can be implemented or even incentivized is left unclear.This grim panorama exists because it serves the interests of the powerful. Change will happen only when light is shined on the problem through more than a book read mainly by academics and regional specialists. But this is a very valuable book because it will help more people understand the limits of security assistance and the reasons for changing it.In the final analysis, however, if change is to come it will have to be because those who live in MENA countries want it rather than from outside influences. That internal demand for change can be encouraged if the United States and the rest of the West work to support the values they claim to represent—freedom of the press, human rights, democracy, and a strong civil society. Getting policymakers in Washington to do that will come only after the kind of introspection this book will hopefully encourage instead of them playing the partisan blame game that happens each time security assistance fails.

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Bustan The Middle East Book Review
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2024-12-01
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https://doi.org/10.5325/bustan.15.2.0222
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2
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Global Peace and Security Dynamics
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article
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article

Security Assistance in the Middle East: Challenges and the Need for Change

Dennis C. Jett
2 citations
Bustan The Middle East Book Review
Global Peace and Security Dynamics
article

Security Assistance in the Middle East: Challenges and the Need for Change

Dennis C. Jett
article en
2 citations

Abstract

Security Assistance in the Middle East: Challenges and the Need for Change (SAME for short) is a volume of articles about military aid in what the book’s editors, Hicham Alaoui and Robert Springborg, characterize as the most insecure and militarized region in the world. It is written mainly by academics for academics and, as the title indicates, it is limited to one area of the world.It deserves a much wider readership as it has important lessons that apply not just to the countries in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) but also to the rest of Africa, Latin America, and other parts of the world. What is more significant is that these lessons are unlikely to learned, and the book explains why. If the realities of providing security assistance explained in the book had been realized in the past, it might have spared America from its ignominious withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021. More recently, the forced withdrawal of American forces from Niger is another example of the result of the problems that run throughout the pages of SAME.The editors begin the book with an overview of the way security assistance (SA) affects MENA. The list of negative impacts of SA is extensive. It retards economic development, contributes to growing authoritarianism, provides the means to suppress government critics and monitor social media, tilts the civil-military relationship even further in favor of the military, facilitates greater military involvement in the economy, encourages the arms race in the region, impairs regional integration across the board, and helps tighten the grip of elites on the politics and economy of the countries in question. They add that SA is neither popular at home nor particularly effective abroad.Given that litany of faults, it is worth asking why the wealthy democracies, which are collectively referred to as the West, provide such assistance and why MENA countries are generally eager to receive it. Shouldn’t SA be provided by the West to help MENA countries defend themselves against threats to national security in a way that does not have so many detrimental effects?As Glenn Robinson argues in his chapter, MENA countries want SA for political rather than security reasons. That can prompt them to avoid reform rather than embracing it when the ultimate goal is a desire to protect the regime in power rather than the nation as a whole. He distinguishes between three types of MENA states—oil monarchies, repressive republics, and flawed democracies. In comparing them, he makes clear that the more authoritarian the country, the less likely it is that SA will improve the capability or behavior of the military. The more authoritarian the MENA country, the more armed forces will work to preserve ethnic and tribal hierarchies rather than provide for the general defense. An excellent example of this is Jordan, whose army Sean Yom describes as having “long been one of Jordan’s biggest welfarist agencies, designed to enmesh tribal constituencies with financial and social benefits” (220).Another problem identified in SAME is the absence of strategic planning or civilian oversight in MENA military establishments even though that would bring about significant improvement. As Yezid Sayigh points out in his essay, “integrating civilians into defense affairs is not a sufficient condition to ensure better outcomes, but it is necessary” (256).Often, however, MENA political elites don’t want armed forces that can do anything beyond suppressing domestic opposition that might lead to a change in the status quo. For that reason, as several of the contributors to SAME show, those in power buy the loyalty of the military by giving them expensive weapons systems and a significant role in the economy. The former are not designed to meet an external threat but rather provide prestige and status. Saudi princes can afford a Ferrari but flying an F-16 really distinguishes them.Another means of ensuring the loyalty of the military is providing them a significant presence in the economy by offering opportunities to supplement military paychecks through monopolies or corruption. As one Egyptian officer involved in commercial activities said, “It’s not the (military) salary I’m worried about, it’s the profits!” (291). This strategy for controlling the military is not unique to MENA. In Latin American countries like Mexico, Ecuador, and Venezuela, military officers are active in commercial enterprises for personal financial gain.The obstacles to SA having a significant positive effect are therefore considerable. As SAME points out in several of its chapters, the basic problem is that MENA military establishments are inherently resistant to reform. The lack of civilian participation, involvement in lucrative nonmilitary economic activities, absence of strategic planning (which might reveal the weapons systems they wish to acquire do not respond to the threats the country faces), and structure reflecting political motives rather than operational ones are all obstacles that are difficult to overcome. As Sayigh noted, “external providers are caught in something of a catch-22: no matter how apolitically or incrementally they strive to enhance defense effectiveness and efficiency, they are, in effect, modifying the single most important instrument of power in a group of predominantly authoritarian states” (258).But MENA autocrats will resist any modification that lessens their grip on power. In his discussion of the political drivers for SA, Glenn Robinson underlines this with three conclusions. First, the demand for SA is largely driven by politics and not security requirements. Second, the capacity for reform doesn’t exist in countries where those in power are only interested in maintaining the system because it serves their narrow interests. Third, the more authoritarian the government, the more it will resist change.Given this bleak picture, why does the West continue to provide such assistance? The answer, as this book makes clear, is that the countries providing SA have their own motivations for providing it that also often have little to do with national defense. The US is the world’s largest exporter of military hardware and therefore has an export-oriented, industrial-military complex to maintain. Selling weapons ensures a level of access to high level decision-makers and prevents other countries, whether ally or enemy, from exerting comparable influence in the purchasing nations. Base rights, access to ports, and overflight rights are also important benefits to supplying a country with arms.Sayigh also points out that the SA providers struggle to measure what they are accomplishing. The metrics used can seem more like justifications for continuing to provide it rather than a measure of its effectiveness. In Afghanistan, for instance, terms like “building partner capacity” or “train-and-equip operations” were described at various times as pillars of US defense strategy. While this provided data for rosy progress reports, it ignored what was actually happening.American assistance providers didn’t understand and neglected to take account of the cultural, ethnic, tribal, and other factors that worked against what they were supposedly trying to accomplish. What mattered most to the US was defeating the Taliban, and it ignored those factors that made achieving that goal impossible in the long term. For instance, it led to embracing warlords like Abdul Raziq, who was profiled in a long New York Times article in May 2024 entitled “America’s Monster.”1 While a brave fighter, he was also thoroughly corrupt and engaged in extortion, murder, and drug trafficking. With allies like that, it should have come as no surprise when, even after billions had been spent on it, the Afghan army folded up like a ten-dollar tent in hurricane. The defeat of the Afghan army destroyed a fundamental goal of SA initiatives: stability.Despite the stated goal of SA to bring about stability, it can often have the opposite effect. As Noureddine Jebnoun emphasized in his contribution describing its effect in Tunisia: “The attempt to deliver stability through security assistance has led to the empowerment of the state’s coercive institutions in ways that risk undermining Tunisians’ democratic aspirations” (70).Jebnoun described how providing SA without considering the local dynamics not only can undermine democracy but can turn people against their own government. In the southern border region of Tunisia where there are few economic opportunities, informal cross-border business can be mistakenly characterized as terrorism. Attempts to suppress these activities can deprive people of their livelihood and alienate them from their government.In addition to the insights provided on the situation in Tunisia, there are separate chapters in SAME on Lebanon, Jordan, Egypt, and the Gulf Monarchies. One other very useful chapter is the one by Gaub and Walsh, which outlines the differences between the American approach to SA and that of the European Union states. One telling distinction is that the EU calls its assistance Security Sector Reform (SSR.) The difference in name highlights the difference in approach between the two types of aid. As the authors of the chapter described it: “Security assistance focuses on equipping, training, and strengthening security and military institutions as they stand, whereas SSR involves security and defense transformation” (134).This difference in emphasis results in American SA reenforcing the status quo, while the EU’s SSR tries to transform it. An argument often made in support of SA is that it encourages reform. However, opponents of it point to specific examples that demonstrate the flaw in this argument. Zeinab Abul-Magd’s chapter mentions one such instance: Abdel Fattah al-Sisi. In addition to now being on his third term as president of Egypt, he is a graduate of the US Army War College. He appears to have no interest in either leaving power or allowing space for democratic opposition instead appealing to his people with a brand of politics characterized by one of SAME’s editors as “Pharaonic nationalism.”2 Following the military coup that brought Sisi to power, the Obama administration suspended military aid. Two years later it was restored as Egypt’s impact on and role in maintaining stability in MENA was deemed more vital to American interests than human rights and democracy considerations.The debate about the reform effect of SA is not limited to MENA and has been going on for years, particularly in Latin American countries. When a number of graduates of the School of the Americas were found to be human rights violators, a protest demonstration against the school became an annual event at the gates of what was then Fort Benning in Georgia. The name of the school was changed, and a few hours of each course was devoted to lectures on human rights, but the graduates still had to return home to countries where those rights were often not respected by the governments they were defending.Given all the problems identified with the provision of SA in MENA, which the editors listed in their opening chapter, it is appropriate that they concluded the book with their chapter on how it might be changed. They don’t come up with any quick or easy solutions. Addressing the range of possible options, they start with just abandoning the region. They reject that as both unwise and unlikely to happen.On the other end of the spectrum is continuing with business as usual or to get even more aggressive and imitate some of the gray-zone tactics that Russia is employing around the world. Somewhere in between are two other proposals described by the editors. First is offshore balancing, which would call for intervention from abroad, when necessary, without a large continuing MENA presence of foreign troops. The second is placing more emphasis on a 3D strategy—diplomacy, democracy, and development, which is favored by former Secretary of Defense Robert Gates, among others.They call into question whether 3D can work, however, given that it would take an all-of-government approach. That catchphrase is uttered in Washington far more than it is implemented. Another problem in getting such a 3D policy right is overcoming the partisanship that affects every Washington decision, where some politicians will always argue that using military force is the solution to every problem abroad.The book ends with several conclusions that are somewhere between sobering and depressing. First, the search for a silver bullet to eliminate the shortcomings of SA to MENA countries is likely to be fruitless. Second, SA has encouraged militarization that has facilitated corruption and authoritarianism as well as retarded economic development. Third, Western democratic states are “the prime external supporter of authoritarian, antidemocratic MENA regimes.” Fourth, “there is no case in this book or in real life of SA to MENA having had direct, positive impacts on the democracy paradox either by reducing the clout of militaries or by increasing that of civilians” (327).In the end, the authors come up with no silver bullets but do find a few BBs. Reducing the size of the militaries in MENA states, more coordination between Western SA providers, and better synchronization between the Pentagon, State, and USAID would all help, but how these steps can be implemented or even incentivized is left unclear.This grim panorama exists because it serves the interests of the powerful. Change will happen only when light is shined on the problem through more than a book read mainly by academics and regional specialists. But this is a very valuable book because it will help more people understand the limits of security assistance and the reasons for changing it.In the final analysis, however, if change is to come it will have to be because those who live in MENA countries want it rather than from outside influences. That internal demand for change can be encouraged if the United States and the rest of the West work to support the values they claim to represent—freedom of the press, human rights, democracy, and a strong civil society. Getting policymakers in Washington to do that will come only after the kind of introspection this book will hopefully encourage instead of them playing the partisan blame game that happens each time security assistance fails.

Bustan The Middle East Book ReviewVol. 15(2)
Pennsylvania State University (US)
Openalex Percentile: Top 62%
Global Peace and Security Dynamics
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