Ahmadinejad in Cairo

Morsi opposes Assad regime, while lining his pockets.

Last August, Egyptian President Mohamed Morsi told the Non Aligned Movement (NAM) summit in Tehran that the Syrian regime had “lost legitimacy.” "We must announce our full support for those who demand freedom and justice in Syria,” he said. His speech was so inflammatory that his Iranian hosts stormed out of the room.

It could therefore be assumed that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s visit to Cairo this week will be extremely uncomfortable. Syria is high on the agenda and it seems Bashar Al Assad’s closest ally could be at loggerheads with Cairo. Egypt is, after all, a product of a revolution similar to Syria’s. Its government enjoys support from Sunni Gulf states, who are actively working to bring down Assad and weaken his support from Shi’a Iran. The recent $10m Egypt received from Qatar indicate Morsi’s government can not afford to have its loyalty questioned on this issue.

Yet there is more that concerns Morsi than revolution, and Qatar is not the only state that has been offering loans recently. In the same month that Morsi spoke at the NAM summit, he turned down a US request to inspect the cargo of Iranian ship. It was travelling to Syria through the Suez Canal and suspected to be carrying arms. In fact, while Morsi publicly calls for Assad to step down this week, he will be helping Syria circumvent EU and US sanctions. Funding for the Syrian regime comes from crude oil exported to Asian markets via Iran. It gets there by travelling through Egypt's Suez Canal.

Ismael Darwish of the Syrian Economic Task Force (SETF), which acts on behalf of the National Coalition of Syrian Revolution and Opposition Forces, says that before the Syrian uprising in March 2011, oil accounted for nearly half of all Syrian exports in value and around 25% of all Syrian government revenues. Now, daily production of Syrian crude oil is estimated by the regime to be around 140,000 barrels per day; all under government control, according to Darwish. In March last year, Reuters reported Syrian oil exports to China via Iran, gave Bashar Al Assad’s regime a “financial boost worth an estimated $80m.”

Iran tries to conceal the movement of its ships by disrupting ship tracking systems and sailing under various names and flags. They are trackable only by their unique IMO number. The Iranian ship, the TOUR 2, has flown under the flags of  Malta, Bolivia, Sierra Leone and Togo. Previously registered under three shell company owners in three different countries, the ships  beneficial owner is the Islamic Republic of Iran Shipping Lines (IRISL). It has made at least three circuits between Iran and Syria via Egypt, calling at Syrian ports last March and July. Most recently, the TOUR 2 departed from Iran to load crude oil in December 2012 and sailed through the Canal northwards on 30 December.

Another Iranian ship, the BAIKAL, which was until recently travelling under the Tanzanian flag, also departed from Syria in December 2012 and sailed through the canal on 30 December.

Egypt claims that it is under no obligation to stop Syrian oil tankers, but turns a blind eye to international commitments that may require it to do so. November 2011 Arab League sanctions, for example, require it to halt “ financial dealings and trade agreements with the Syrian government.” The Irano Hind Shipping Company, which owns the TOUR 2 has been sanctioned by the UN. Member states are required to freeze Irano Hind’s assets. Egypt still lets the TOUR 2 pass.

Despite Morsi’s grandstanding on foreign affairs, domestically, his country’s situation limits him.  Egypt’s foreign reserves have dwindled by more than half since January 2011, reaching $13.65bn. The state struggles to import food and petroleum products. Recent protests in Egypt can not be disassociated from anger people feel that their lives are worse under the Muslim Brotherhood. The Suez Canal is one of the greatest sources of revenue for Egypt. A loss of profit from the canal would be a great blow.

With a crippled economy and divided state, the Egyptian president’s hand in these Syria negotiations is weaker than he would have us believe. As well as offering to “dialogue” on Syria this week, Iran’s premier offered Egypt “a big credit line.” Meanwhile, the situation of Syrians, deemed essential earlier this year, has fallen by the wayside.
 

Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad flashes the victory sign ahead of a meeting in Cairo on 5 February 2013. Photograph: Getty Images
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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism