Saudi embarrassment

The killing or the homosexuality – which seems worse to the folks back home?

The news that a Saudi prince is on trial in London for killing an aide who was reputedly also his gay lover will be enormously embarrassing to the government back in Riyadh. Saudis dislike bad publicity intensely, and especially when it involves a case as horrific as an alleged princely murder — as we in Britain should know well. In 1980, the Saudi government expelled our ambassador and banned Concorde from its airspace after ITV screened Death of a Princess, about a young member of the royal family who was executed for the "crime" of conducting a secret relationship.

In the opinion of David Gardner, author of Last Chance: the Middle East in the Balance (and who wrote a fascinating essay on Saudi Arabia for the NS last year): "This prince has become a very hot potato for the Saudi ruling family. Though a minor princeling, he is the grandson of a king who has tried to project an image of austere probity, to limit the power of the clerical establishment and curb the excesses of the more wayward and corrupt royals.

"Then along comes this . . . which presses just about every Wahhabi button in its transgression: murder and homosexuality against a backdrop of phenomenal quantities of alcohol and drugs."

Shamefully, however, just as humiliating for the royal family will be the revelations that Prince Saud bin Abdulaziz bin Nasir al-Saud, who is King Abdullah's grandson, is homosexual. The details of the case make this plain — something called the Spartacus International Gay Guide was found in his room, and two male escort agencies testified he had used their services since checking in to the hotel.

It is not as though homosexuality is unknown in Saudi Arabia. In a daring piece for the NS in 2007, Harry Nicolaides wrote of one attempted pick-up he experienced. (So daring was the piece, in fact, that at the time I couldn't believe his lack of regard for his own safety. My worries proved well founded, as Harry's bravery, or recklessness, was later to land him in jail in Thailand for violating lèse majesté laws.) And Robert Lacey devoted a section of his recent book Inside the Kingdom to an account of the prevalence of lesbianism in Saudi — a chapter to which some reviewers paid rather overenthusiastic attention.

But officially this "vice" is not tolerated, and sodomy is punishable by death. This is in line with a society that likes to insist on its version of the truth and airbrush awkward episodes from the official record. If you look up the country's second ruler, King Saud, for instance, on the kingdom's official government website you will not be told that he was an obese, lazy, spendthrift playboy who proved so incompetent that the almost unthinkable step of deposing him was taken in order to make way for his brother Faisal. No, you merely find a bland paragraph listing his "achievements" and dates on the throne.

The Saudi government, however, cannot control coverage of Prince Saud's trial. Surprise, surprise, if you try to look it up on the website of Arab News, a Saudi-owned English-language newspaper, the closest you get is a four-day-old story about Russia commending a different Prince Saud (the king's nephew) as a diplomat. But as this fascinating article in the Atlantic shows, internet restrictions are easily bypassed by the kingdom's citizens, not least by those logging on to gay dating sites.

Prince Saud's story will soon be known. Perhaps some of those reading it will shudder, and give thanks that nothing similar happened to them — after all, they may have met him online already . . .

Sholto Byrnes is a Contributing Editor to the New Statesman
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There's something missing from our counter-terrorism debate

The policy reckoning that occured after the 2005 terrorist attacks did not happen after the one in 2016. 

“Once the rockets are up, who cares where they come down? That's not my department, says Wernher von Braun.” That satirical lyric about Nazi rocket scientists has come to mind more than few times watching various tech giants give testimony in front of the Home Affairs Select Committee, one of the underreported sub-plots of life at Westminster.

During their ongoing inquiry into hate crime in the United Kingdom, committee chair Yvette Cooper has found a staggering amount of hate speech being circulated freely on the largest and most profitable social media platform. Seperately, an ongoing investigation by the Times has uncovered how advertising revenue from Google and YouTube makes its way straight into the coffers of extremist groups, ranging from Islamist extremists to white supremacists and anti-Semites.

One of the many remarkable aspects of the inquiry has been the von Braunesque reaction by the movers and shakers at these tech companies. Once the ad revenue is handed out, who cares what it pays for? That’s not my department is the overwhelming message of much of the testimony.

The problem gains an added urgency now that the perpetrator of the Westminster attacks has been named as Khalid Masood, a British-born 52-year-old with a string of petty convictions across two decades from 1982 to 2002. He is of the same generation and profile as Thomas Mair, the white supremacist behind the last act of domestic terrorism on British shores, though Mair’s online radicalisation occurred on far-right websites, while Masood instead mimicked the methods of Isis attacks on the continent.  Despite that, both fitted many of the classic profiles of a “lone wolf” attack, although my colleague Amelia explains well why that term is increasingly outmoded.

One thing that some civil servants have observed is that it is relatively easy to get MPs to understand anti-terror measures based around either a form of electronic communication they use themselves – like text messaging or email, for instance – or a physical place which they might have in their own constituencies. But legislation has been sluggish in getting to grips with radicalisation online and slow at cutting off funding sources.

As I’ve written before, though there  are important differences between these two ideologies, the radicalisation journey is similar and tends to have the same staging posts: petty criminality, a drift from the fringes of respectable Internet sub-cultures to extremist websites, and finally violence.  We don’t yet know how closely Masood’s journey follows that pattern – but what is clear is that the policy rethink about British counter-terror after the July bombings in 2005 has yet to have an equivalent echo online. The success of that approach is shown in that these attacks are largely thwarted in the United Kingdom. But what needs to happen is a realisation that what happens when the rockets come down is very much the department of the world’s communication companies. 

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.