The Obama plan for Egypt

“Barry” grew up in Indonesia. Could the overthrow of its dictator be the template that the US presid

After weeks of riots, demonstrations and bloody counterattacks, the dictator finally stood down. He had already promised reforms, but it was not enough. Eventually the armed forces, from whose ranks he had originally sprung and whose loyalty had shored up his regime for nigh on 30 years, would no longer support him. So, grudgingly, he went.

In the transition period, a multitude of religious parties was formed. Some feared that when elections were held, Islamists would take over. In the event, the first fair presidential vote did bring to power the leader of a Muslim organisation; but moderation prevailed. The country's citizens were too attached to their newly won freedom to allow anyone to restrict their rights again.

A decade on, corruption and vote-buying remain serious problems, many of the dictator's former associates are major political players, and the former ruler himself was never brought to account for the human rights violations that took place under his rule. The latter was, perhaps, understandable. At home, national reconciliation trumped the demands of retributive justice, while the western powers could hardly call too loudly for the dictator to be hauled off to The Hague – after all, he had been one of their most reliable and publicly embraced allies in an unstable region.

But time had passed and change had come. The American president, no less, hailed the country as a model for how Muslim-majority autocracies could become pluralist democracies. Not only was the revolution televised; it was a success.

Could this be how events will turn out in Egypt? Maybe. But the above is not merely a fanciful scenario. It is precisely what happened in Indonesia after the fall of Suharto in 1998. He never faced justice. His associates remain dominant – the current president, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, was one of his generals. A Muslim leader, the late Abdurrahman Wahid, did become president. (Fortunately "Gus Dur", as he was known, was no Khomeini. A hugely respected religious scholar and courageous defender of tolerance, he was also a cultured man with a ready wit. When he was removed from office in 2001, he said: "You don't realise that losing the presidency for me is nothing. I regret more the fact that I lost 27 recordings of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.") And last November, 12 years after the end of Suharto's tyranny, President Barack Obama praised Indonesia as "an example to the world" during his visit to Jakarta.

Is it unreasonable to hope that the one-time leader of the Arab nations could follow, in at least some respects, the course set out by the world's most populous Muslim country?

And, if he could: how?

I am grateful to Thomas Carothers of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace for a useful analysis of lessons Egypt could take from Indonesia's recent history. You can find the full article here, but his key pointers are as follows:

First, the post-Suharto political renovation was inclusive despite the powerful mass rejection of the prior dictatorial order. The interim president moved quickly to allow freedom of expression and open the political space. Apparatchiks around the dictator managed to find a new political role for themselves through a transformed former ruling party that emphasised its technocratic capabilities. The army, which had played a key role in facilitating Suharto's stepping down by refusing to violently repress the protesters, saw its political role greatly reduced but only bit by bit, through constant negotiations and compromises. Political parties of all sorts were allowed to flourish, despite the messiness of the initial elections and governments.

Second, once Suharto's abrupt ouster was achieved, the transition became intensely legalistic and iterative. Indonesia put itself through seemingly endless phases of constitutional, electoral and other legal reforms, carried out in a spirit of compromise. The vague but emotive reformasi ideal was gradually translated into concrete institutions, rules and procedures. The serious pursuit of this detailed reform agenda helped Indonesians tolerate a transition period marked early on by a dubious post-dictator leader, disturbing outbursts of violence, economic woes and the breaking off of East Timor.

Third, the United States and Europe overcame their suspicions of a political transition they had long dreaded and offered valuable assistance in support of elections, political party development, civil society strengthening and legal reform. Indonesians' positive experience with this external assistance helped contribute to their own noteworthy determination to become active supporters of democracy in their own region.

Of course the circumstances are not the same, but there are many parallels, too. As I write, reports say that the Obama administration wants the military to back a plan that sees Mubarak give way to his vice-president – which, again, is what happened when Suharto resigned.

Given Obama's links to Indonesia (his childhood home) and knowledge of its recent history, maybe he hopes its example can be a template for Egypt. An optimistic view, for sure. But if anyone knows that optimists can be proved right, it is the current occupant of the White House.

Sholto Byrnes is a Contributing Editor to the New Statesman
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It's easy to see where Berlin is being rebuilt – just hit the streets

My week, from walking the streets of Berlin to class snobbery and the right kind of gentrification.

Brick by brick, block by block, the people are rebuilding the city once called Faust’s Metropolis. To see it clearly, put your boots on. One of the most bracing walks starts by the Gethsemane Church, which served as a haven for dissenters in the last days of the GDR and takes you down ­towards the Hackescher Markt.

Here, in what is still the eastern half of a divided city that wears its division more lightly, is a Berlin experience both old and new. In three decades of frequent visits, it has been fascinating to note how much this part of town has changed. Even a decade ago these streets were rundown. With crumbling buildings showing bulletholes, it wasn’t hard to imagine what the place looked like in 1945. Now there are lilacs, blues, and yellows. Cafés, bars and restaurants abound, serving the young professionals attracted to the city by cheap rents and a renewed sense of community.

 

Breaking the fourth wall

Looking north along Schliemannstraße, you’ll find a delightful vista of well-tended balconies. It’s a pleasant place to live, notwithstanding the gaggle of grotesques who gather round the corner in the square. On Kastanienallee, which forms the second leg of the walk, an old city feels young. It’s a kind of gentrification but the right kind. There’s more to eat, to drink, to buy, for all.

Berlin, where Bertolt Brecht staged his unwatchable plays, was supposed to have been transformed by a proletarian revolution. Instead, it has been restored to health by a very middle-class one. Germany has always had a well-educated middle class, and the nation’s restoration would have impossible without such people. The irony is delicious – not that irony buttered many parsnips for “dirty Bertie”.

 

The new snobbery

The British Museum’s survey of German history “Memories of a Nation” is being presented at the Martin-Gropius-Bau as “The British View”. Germans, natürlich, are curious to see how we observe them. But how do they see us?

A German friend recently in England  said that the images that struck him most forcibly were the tins of food and cheap booze people piled up in supermarkets, and the number of teenage girls pushing prams. Perhaps Neil MacGregor, the former director of the British Museum who will shortly take up a similar role here at the new Humboldt Forum, may turn his attention to a “German View” of the United Kingdom.

There’s no shortage of material. In Schlawinchen, a bar that typifies Kreuzberg’s hobohemia, a college-educated English girl was trying to explain northern England to an American she had just met. Speaking in an ugly modern Mancunian voice that can only be acquired through years of practice (sugar pronounced as “sug-oar”), she refer­red to Durham and York as “middle class, you know, posh”, because those cities had magnificent cathedrals.

When it comes to inverted snobbery, no nation can match us. To be middle class in Germany is an indication of civic value. In modern England, it can mark you as a leper.

 

Culture vultures

The Humboldt Forum, taking shape by the banks of the Spree, reconsecrates the former site of the GDR’s Palace of the Republic. When it opens in 2018 it will be a “living exhibition”, dedicated to all the cultures of the world. Alexander von Humboldt, the naturalist and explorer, was the brother of Wilhelm, the diplomat and philosopher, whose name lives on in the nearby university.

In Potsdamerplatz there are plans to build a modern art museum, crammed in between the Neue Nationalgalerie and the Philharmonie, home to the Berlin Philharmonic. Meanwhile, the overhaul of the Deutsche Staatsoper, where Daniel Barenboim is music director for life, is likely to be completed, fingers crossed, next autumn.

Culture everywhere! Or perhaps that should be Kultur, which has a slightly different meaning in Germany. They take these things more seriously, and there is no hint of bogus populism. In London, plans for a new concert hall have been shelved. Sir Peter Hall’s words remain true: “England is a philistine country that loves the arts.”

 

European neighbours

When Germans speak of freedom, wrote A J P Taylor, a historian who seems to have fallen from favour, they mean the freedom to be German. No longer. When modern Germans speak of freedom, they observe it through the filter of the European Union.

But nation states are shaped by different forces. “We are educated to be obedient,” a Berlin friend who spent a year at an English school once told me. “You are educated to be independent.” To turn around Taylor’s dictum: when the English speak of freedom,
they mean the freedom to be English.

No matter what you may have heard, the Germans have always admired our independence of spirit. We shall, however, always see “Europe” in different ways. Europe, good: we can all agree on that. The European Union, not so good. It doesn’t mean we have to fall out, and the Germans are good friends to have.

 

Hook, line and sinker

There are fine walks to be had in the west, too. In Charlottenburg, the Kensington of Berlin, the mood is gentler, yet you can still feel the city humming. Here, there are some classic places to eat and drink – the Literaturhauscafé for breakfast and, for dinner, Marjellchen, a treasure trove of east Prussian forest delights. Anything that can be shot and put in a pot!

For a real Berlin experience, though, head at nightfall for Zwiebelfisch, the great tavern on Savignyplatz, and watch the trains glide by on the other side of Kantstraße. Hartmut Volmerhaus, a most amusing host, has been the guvnor here for more than 30 years and there are no signs that his race is run. The “Fisch” at twilight: there’s nowhere better to feel the pulse of this remarkable city. 

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage