Argument

Bandar Is Back

After disappearing without explanation two years ago, one of the House of Saud's most colorful royals recently returned home to a hero's welcome -- a development that may shed light on the delicate negotiations over who inherits the throne.

For a generation, Prince Bandar bin Sultan was Riyadh's man in Washington. As the Saudi ambassador to the United States from 1983 to 2005, he was even dubbed "Bandar Bush" for his close ties to that powerful American political dynasty. After leaving Washington, apparently burned out, he returned to Saudi Arabia to head the newly established Saudi National Security Council, the function of which was not, and still is not, clear. However, he continued to sneak back into the United States periodically because the king quickly decided he preferred Bandar over his successor, Prince Turki al-Faisal, as his channel to the White House -- a situation that eventually led Turki to resign in protest.

And then, around 2008, Bandar vanished from the public eye. Exactly what caused Bandar to fall out of political favor remains unclear, but he had acquired no shortage of enemies, even within the royal family, over his long tenure as the principal contact between Saudi Arabia and its most important ally.

Bandar's disappearance prompted a number of conspiracy theories. The Iranian media, for example, has rather creatively accused him of masterminding al Qaeda's activities in Iraq and funding al Qaeda-affiliated Sunni Islamist groups in Lebanon in an attempt to undermine Hezbollah.

But now, Bandar is back. A brief Saudi Press Agency story last week reported: "Prince Muqrin bin Abdul Aziz, Chief of Saudi Intelligence, welcomed Prince Bandar home at the airport."

Prince Muqrin was joined in welcoming Bandar by a virtual who's who of Saudi political figures: Prince Khalid bin Sultan, assistant minister of defense and aviation and inspector general for military affairs; Prince Muhammad bin Naif, assistant minister of interior for security affairs; Prince Abdul Aziz bin Fahd, state minister and president of the Court of the Presidency of the Cabinet; Prince Faisal bin Khalid bin Sultan, advisor to the crown prince; Prince Salman bin Sultan, assistant secretary-general of the National Security Council. According to the Saudi Press Agency, "more senior princes" were also in attendance.

That's one helluva welcome, by any standard. By Saudi standards, it is enormous: an uncle, a half brother, three significant cousins, and a nephew, never mind the unnamed senior princes. The report said he had arrived "from abroad," but gave no further details. There wasn't even a photo, though one report says he has lost a considerable amount of weight.

So what's going on? First, a word of caution. There is an old saw that people who actually know what is going on in the Saudi royal family don't talk about it -- and people who talk about it don't know what is going on. All too often, this saying is a convenient device used by those close to the House of Saud to undermine reports critical about Saudi Arabia, but it's also an important reminder that we'll never know as much as we'd like about the kingdom's opaque politics.

Bandar has struggled with his health for years, recently undergoing two operations at the Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. The most prosaic explanation for his return is that, after convalescing in Morocco, where his father, Crown Prince Sultan, is vacationing, he has recovered and has now come home. His most likely ailment is a bad back, though two biographies in recent years have reported that Bandar has also had problems with alcohol and depression. David B. Ottaway, in The King's Messenger, described him as a "more than occasional drinker." And his (probably now former) friend William Simpson, in The Prince: The Secret Story of the World's Most Intriguing Royal, identified the mid-1990s as Bandar's "first period of full-blown depression."

But there appears to be more to Bandar's return to the kingdom than just improved health. The buzz, from a well-placed source close to the royal family, is that it has to do with the internal politics of the House of Saud and the vexing questions of royal succession: Who will take the throne after King Abdullah, and who will be the king after that? Bandar's talents for political deal-making have, supposedly, caused the royal family to overlook his reputation for self-interested decision-making and a certain lack of respect for many of his uncles.

Despite an outward facade of stability, the House of Saud is in turmoil over succession. King Abdullah is 87 this year, but his half brother and designated successor, Crown Prince Sultan, is 86. To put it kindly, though Sultan can still stand, life is essentially one long senior moment -- he will never be capable of running the country. The apparent next in line is Sultan's full brother, Prince Nayef, 77, the hard-line minister of interior, best known for publicly claiming the 9/11 attacks were carried out by Jews.

But the turmoil goes far beyond the monarchy's top ranks. It is increasingly apparent that Abdullah and the 19 other surviving sons of King Abdul Aziz, the founder of "modern" Saudi Arabia who died in 1953, are either too old or do not have the experience or acumen to manage the affairs of the kingdom for much longer. Succession has to go to their sons, the grandsons of Abdul Aziz. However, an important question looms: Which branch of the Saud family will emerge on top?

There is, according to sources within the royal family, a deal emerging. The sequence of events is not clear, but changes could start soon. First, Crown Prince Sultan will give up his long-held post of defense minister, handing the portfolio to his son (and Bandar's half brother), Prince Khalid bin Sultan, currently the assistant minister and previously commander of Arab forces during the 1991 liberation of Kuwait. Khalid's epaulets are large, but his military credentials are weak -- his leadership during the recent skirmishes against rebels in the border area with Yemen was marked by a series of tactical blunders. But Sultan's entourage is insisting that Khalid replace his largely incapacitated father.

A second change will be the retirement of Prince Saud al-Faisal, 69, the son of the late King Faisal, as foreign minister. Saud, an Arab nationalist, was once described in an official British briefing document as "very bright but perhaps not so bright as he thinks." He suffers from Parkinson's disease as well as a bad back and in photos often appears as though he is in agony.

The foreign-minister position will go, the sources say, to Saud's younger brother Turki al-Faisal, 65 -- keeping it, in feudal style, in the hands of the al-Faisal branch of the family. Prince Turki served for many years as the Saudi intelligence chief until he was sacked in 2001 -- 10 days before the 9/11 attacks -- and then later as a successful ambassador to Britain before his short-lived and disastrous stint in Washington. Turki will once again be rehabilitated because he has intellectual talents and worldly connections that are in short supply in the royal family.

The changing of the guard will also reach the throne: Saud and Turki's 69-year-old brother Khalid (not to be confused with the crown prince's militarily hapless son Khalid) will most likely emerge as a future king. Khalid is a poet, an enthusiastic painter, and a friend of Britain's Prince Charles. He previously served as governor of the mountainous and politically volatile province of Asir and is the current governor of the holy province of Mecca. Most importantly for his political future, Khalid has emerged as a figure respected by the various factions within the family, able to guide the kingdom forward with a steady hand.

As always, there are a few loose ends in this scenario. Prince Nayef is expected to be made crown prince upon Sultan's death or even before. However, he is said to be still recovering from a bout of cancer, which could mean he would not become king. His full brother Salman, 74, the governor of Riyadh province and every foreign ambassador's favorite to be king, is also apparently disqualified by a weak heart.

Bandar's exact role remains to be seen. As the son of a former slave girl in his father's court, he lacks the pedigree to be king himself. But he is married to an al-Faisal princess, and his connections in Washington make him a valuable ally for any would-be monarch. Within the family, he can explain the folly of internal royal dissension in a region increasingly threatened by Iran. Amid all the rumors and innuendo, insiders agree on one concrete fact: Bandar is back as a player in Saudi politics.

HASSAN AMMAR/AFP/Getty Images

Argument

Googling Africa

The tech giant is diving into the continent -- but are Africans interested?

The Google office in South Africa is no different from the Google office in Washington -- from the outside. Tucked into a sprawling, high-tech office park in Johannesburg, Google's hip, young Africa team has taken the company's beanbag-chairs-and-jeans culture global. But in practice, their mission is different -- and far more difficult. They're out to prove that Google can be an African verb.

Since 2007, the American search giant has entered the African market head first, establishing offices in Lagos, Accra, Johannesburg, Dakar, and Kampala, with its largest presence in Nairobi. It has placed a premium on improving access to the Internet and importing its well-known suite of applications (Maps, Gmail, Books, Chat) to African users. It has held six "G-Africa" gatherings designed to build the brand among local webheads, most recently in Kenya, with another planned for Cape Town in November. But despite all the money and attention Google is pouring into the continent, some developers and engineers here say that the company doesn't quite "get" Africa. Within the vibrant, competitive, and decentralized African tech space, Google is going to have to do more than just show up.

Just as other multinational companies have discovered in recent years, Google knows that there is a lot of money to be made in urbanizing, newly wired African markets. In June, consulting firm McKinsey concluded that rates of return on investment in Africa are higher than in any other developing region. Since then, global banks and corporations have brokered regional mergers and acquisitions worth more than $15 billion.

When it comes to Western tech companies, Google is unmistakably ahead of the curve. While Finnish Nokia and Canadian BlackBerry have offices and research centers in Africa, Silicon Valley darlings like Apple, Facebook, and Twitter don't have a single warm body on the continent.

This commitment to Africa has produced some exciting firsts. Google Earth's high-resolution satellite imagery was central to the recent excavation of new hominid fossils in South Africa. Browsers in Ethiopia, Zimbabwe, and Senegal can search in the Amharic, Shona, and Wolof languages, respectively. "The whole goal of the Africa team is to make the Internet an integral part of African lives," says Bridgette Sexton, a Google development manager who helps organize the G-Africa program.

In many ways, Google is well suited to the challenge. An Internet company can circumvent bad roads, casual corruption, and limited purchasing power -- the traditional barriers to doing business in Africa. In a region where there are 10 times more cell phones than desktop computers, Google is piloting its recently announced "Mobile First" strategy, with strong results: The company recently took a prize from the Mobile World Congress for "best use of mobile for social and economic development" for creating Africa-specific applications like "SMS Tips," which answers questions on health or agriculture sent through text messages, and "Google Trader," which matches small businesses and buyers in real time. "Everyone in Africa is a power phone user," says Stefan Magdalinski, head of Mocality, an online directory for businesses in the region. "No matter how [simple] your phone is, you know every feature, every application, and you use every one."

Local programmers are making their own contributions. Alex Nyika, a 26-year old Ugandan programmer, developed "iChecki"-- a real-time, GPS-based tracker for Nairobi's notoriously unpredictable public transit "matatu" vans -- as an app for Google's Android phones. Although the Android operating system trails emerging-market leader Nokia in Africa, American competitors Apple and Microsoft are even further behind.

Google hopes to consolidate that advantage by training more African designers in Android protocols. "These are the guys [who] will create the companies that will be our Facebooks and Googles," says Tidjane Deme, Google head for Senegal. "We try and give them tools to bring content online." At G-Kenya, Joe Mucheru, head of the Africa practice, announced that programmers like Nyika can now join the global Android Market.

But when it comes to translating this advertised openness into a connection with local designers and consumers, the company has hit some snags. "You're not thinking of Africa if you're going to launch an Android phone for over $100," says Erik Hersman, a Nairobi-based technologist who recently hosted a group of 25 Googlers at the iHub, a shared office space for local programmers and entrepreneurs. "They launched Android Market, but there's no Google Checkout for us to receive money. It's a huge hole that almost all the tech companies have in Africa. They globalize, but they don't engage."

Take Gmail, for example. Globally, the service has trailed those provided by Yahoo! and Microsoft. Magdalinski suspects it's just too complicated for African modems. "Gmail is always loading with flashy chat and all this JavaScript," he says.* By contrast, "Yahoo! loads fast -- it works on a shit modem in an Internet cafe." (As in the United States, users can opt to load a stripped-down in-box, but new applications like Google Chat to SMS -- rolled out in Senegal, Ghana, and Kenya this year -- require using the clunkier version.)

Likewise, Google proudly unveiled digital maps of several African cities that had never been well cataloged -- even driving a red, camera-mounted Toyota Prius around certain cities in South Africa to create "Street View" maps in time for this year's World Cup. But in practice, Google has left out wide swaths of African cities -- the Kibera slums of Nairobi, most notably. Google's "Map Maker" permits users to fill in the blanks, but has yet to account for the visual orientation ("bear left at the Tusky's roundabout") more familiar to locals than Google's gridded logic. And, despite partnership with the Grameen Foundation and South African telecom MTN, the prizewinning Google Trader has barely made a dent in challenging existing classified services. A search for a used car, for example, turns up only 17 ads over the last six months.

"I'm a huge Google fan; I have Google merchandise and a Google coffee cup," says Rob Spokes, head of Quirk Marketing, a leading South African web-services firm. "But there's very little scope for development here." Stafford Masie, head Googler in South Africa who left the team for personal reasons last year, says, "There's no imagination" on the ground. "I couldn't do what I wanted there." (It took Google six months to replace Masie's successor, Stephen Newton, who quit in May.)

Then there is the issue of whether African techies need or want Google around. In mid-2009, Google approached Teresa Clarke, then a managing director at Goldman Sachs and proprietor of Africa.com. "They made me a pretty generous offer," says Clarke. But she ultimately turned them down, preferring to develop her own news site. Clarke is still in contact with Google about future partnership, but others are spurning Google more definitively. Jessica Colaco, a self-described "technology evangelist" in Nairobi who manages the iHub says, "I want to be Jessica Colaco, not Jessica who works for Google.... I'd rather do my own thing."

Maybe this is part of the reason why Google isn't yet making a profit in the region, and the focus on social services carries a whiff of corporate social responsibility. Google rebuts that its push is part of a short-term strategy for innovation and a long-term strategy for, well, world domination. "It's a volume play," CEO Eric Schmidt told me in September -- a response to the overwhelming numbers of Africans coming online. Google's piecemeal withdrawal from a market of 340 million Chinese web surfers makes Africa's 500 million mobile web users a worthwhile consolation prize."We are not positioning ourselves as a charity or NGO," says Julie Taylor, one of Google's 50-plus employees in the region. "Africa is the last frontier for the Internet."

There is definitely space for Google in Africa. The company wouldn't share projections for profit outside South Africa (which makes money), but "the economic opportunity of the Internet both for Africans and in the longer term for Google is significant," says Taylor.

And of course, not everyone is giving Google the brushoff. Loren Bosch, a sales director for Internet Solutions, one of the oldest information-and-communications-technology solutions firm in Africa, welcomes Google's incursion. "We're excited about all those guys coming here. The more of them enter the space here, the better the environment will become and the more resources are available in the market," he says.

To succeed, Google has to live out its biggest selling point: its openness to new ideas. The company has spent millions contrasting its open-source, free-web, access-for-all vision with its more reticent American competitors. But, Deme told a gathering in Washington, "We're still doing what I don't like. We're going there and telling them what to do." Now it must make good on the promise to be innovative and adaptive, even willing to change its model -- rather than simply export it -- to Africa. If not, the company will go down with every other misguided incursion in African history, something that's not lost on the Googlers themselves. "There's a difference between California and Africa," says Sexton. "You have to be a local company if you're working here."

*This sentence was updated to correct an editorial mistake in a quote.

SIA KAMBOU/AFP/Getty Images