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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What it’s like to fall victim to the Mail Online’s aggregation machine

I recently travelled to Iraq at my own expense to write a piece about war graves. Within five hours of the story's publication by the Times, huge chunks of it appeared on Mail Online – under someone else's byline.

I recently returned from a trip to Iraq, and wrote an article for the Times on the desecration of Commonwealth war cemeteries in the southern cities of Amara and Basra. It appeared in Monday’s paper, and began:

“‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the engraving reads, but the words ring hollow. The stone on which they appear lies shattered in a foreign field that should forever be England, but patently is anything but.”

By 6am, less than five hours after the Times put it online, a remarkably similar story had appeared on Mail Online, the world’s biggest and most successful English-language website with 200 million unique visitors a month.

It began: “Despite being etched with the immortal line: ‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the truth could not be further from the sentiment for the memorials in the Commonwealth War Cemetery in Amara.”

The article ran under the byline of someone called Euan McLelland, who describes himself on his personal website as a “driven, proactive and reliable multi-media reporter”. Alas, he was not driven or proactive enough to visit Iraq himself. His story was lifted straight from mine – every fact, every quote, every observation, the only significant difference being the introduction of a few errors and some lyrical flights of fancy. McLelland’s journalistic research extended to discovering the name of a Victoria Cross winner buried in one of the cemeteries – then getting it wrong.

Within the trade, lifting quotes and other material without proper acknowledgement is called plagiarism. In the wider world it is called theft. As a freelance, I had financed my trip to Iraq (though I should eventually recoup my expenses of nearly £1,000). I had arranged a guide and transport. I had expended considerable time and energy on the travel and research, and had taken the risk of visiting a notoriously unstable country. Yet McLelland had seen fit not only to filch my work but put his name on it. In doing so, he also precluded the possibility of me selling the story to any other publication.

I’m being unfair, of course. McLelland is merely a lackey. His job is to repackage and regurgitate. He has no time to do what proper journalists do – investigate, find things out, speak to real people, check facts. As the astute media blog SubScribe pointed out, on the same day that he “exposed” the state of Iraq’s cemeteries McLelland also wrote stories about the junior doctors’ strike, British special forces fighting Isis in Iraq, a policeman’s killer enjoying supervised outings from prison, methods of teaching children to read, the development of odourless garlic, a book by Lee Rigby’s mother serialised in the rival Mirror, and Michael Gove’s warning of an immigration free-for-all if Britain brexits. That’s some workload.

Last year James King published a damning insider’s account of working at Mail Online for the website Gawker. “I saw basic journalism standards and ethics casually and routinely ignored. I saw other publications’ work lifted wholesale. I watched editors...publish information they knew to be inaccurate,” he wrote. “The Mail’s editorial model depends on little more than dishonesty, theft of copyrighted material, and sensationalism so absurd that it crosses into fabrication.”

Mail Online strenuously denied the charges, but there is plenty of evidence to support them. In 2014, for example, it was famously forced to apologise to George Clooney for publishing what the actor described as a bogus, baseless and “premeditated lie” about his future mother-in-law opposing his marriage to Amal Alamuddin.

That same year it had to pay a “sizeable amount” to a freelance journalist named Jonathan Krohn for stealing his exclusive account in the Sunday Telegraph of being besieged with the Yazidis on northern Iraq’s Mount Sinjar by Islamic State fighters. It had to compensate another freelance, Ali Kefford, for ripping off her exclusive interview for the Mirror with Sarah West, the first female commander of a Navy warship.

Incensed by the theft of my own story, I emailed Martin Clarke, publisher of Mail Online, attaching an invoice for several hundred pounds. I heard nothing, so emailed McLelland to ask if he intended to pay me for using my work. Again I heard nothing, so I posted both emails on Facebook and Twitter.

I was astonished by the support I received, especially from my fellow journalists, some of them household names, including several victims of Mail Online themselves. They clearly loathed the website and the way it tarnishes and debases their profession. “Keep pestering and shaming them till you get a response,” one urged me. Take legal action, others exhorted me. “Could a groundswell from working journalists develop into a concerted effort to stop the theft?” SubScribe asked hopefully.

Then, as pressure from social media grew, Mail Online capitulated. Scott Langham, its deputy managing editor, emailed to say it would pay my invoice – but “with no admission of liability”. He even asked if it could keep the offending article up online, only with my byline instead of McLelland’s. I declined that generous offer and demanded its removal.

When I announced my little victory on Facebook some journalistic colleagues expressed disappointment, not satisfaction. They had hoped this would be a test case, they said. They wanted Mail Online’s brand of “journalism” exposed for what it is. “I was spoiling for a long war of attrition,” one well-known television correspondent lamented. Instead, they complained, a website widely seen as the model for future online journalism had simply bought off yet another of its victims.