Iraq's Moment to Rise or Burn

Baghdad could be the key to unlocking the region's worst conflicts -- if only it could get its own house in order.

Iraqi Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki is scheduled to visit the White House on Nov. 1. It's a good time for his country to crack the crowded regional agenda. Iraq is facing a rising death toll, with more than 5,000 recorded deaths from a horrific wave of car bombs, and attacks by a reinvigorated insurgency driven by Syria's war and by Maliki's obstinately sectarian and autocratic politics. Washington needs to do more on this visit than mouth pleasantries about security, pluralism, responsibility, and enduring partnership. It needs to persuade Iraq's leaders to finally play the role in mediating the region's brutal political divides -- a role only Baghdad can play.

Iraq's fate matters not only because of the thousands of Americans and reportedly half-million Iraqis who died in the course of a decade of war. Iraq stands at the heart of the Gulf's tenuous balance of power, sharing long borders with Syria, Iran, and Saudi Arabia. Its viciously renewed insurgency already represents one of the most devastating spillover effects of Syria's war. And as a Shiite-ruled semi-democratic Arab state, it crosses three of the starkest lines dividing today's Middle East: Sunnis against Shiites, monarchies against would-be democracies, and the Gulf Cooperation Council against Iran.

Without a new sense of urgency, the White House meeting will likely cover little more than platitudes about the reinvigoration of the long-neglected Strategic Framework Agreement (SFA) promising cultural, economic, and political relations, which was negotiated between the two countries in 2008 alongside the deal that facilitated America's military withdrawal. That was the topic of August's meeting between Secretary of State John Kerry and Iraqi Foreign Minister Hoshyar Zebari. The SFA certainly is important as a vehicle for building some kind of normal and positive relations out of the wreckage of a decade of war and occupation. And it is clear that Maliki has some things in mind that he'd like from Washington, such as renewed intelligence sharing and the delivery of arms systems.

But high-minded, empty discussions of the SFA can't be the only thing Washington gets out of Maliki's November visit. It should be a vehicle for Maliki and President Barack Obama to have a frank talk about Iraq's domestic political crisis and its potential role in a changing regional order. Iraq's ambassador to the United States, Lukman Faily, recently told a Washington audience that his primary message to America is that Baghdad could be a reliable ally in a turbulent region. Such an ally is sorely needed -- particularly one that stands to be deeply affected by the outcome of U.S.-Iranian negotiations and by the trajectory of Syria's civil war. But for Iraq to play such a role, it will have to reverse Maliki's long-standing exclusion of Iraq's Sunni minority and the centralization of his own power.

Maliki might be forgiven for rolling his eyes at another lecture on the need for national reconciliation -- a shared goal written into the SFA, for what it's worth (and something that some might hope to see out of the U.S. Congress, too). American officials have been urging that upon the prime minister, as well as every other Iraqi politician who would sit still for more than 15 minutes, for more than half a decade. The political failure in Iraq is nothing new and has very little to do with the withdrawal of U.S. troops. Maliki ignored such advice when there were 140,000 American troops in Iraq; he ignored it when those troops began to withdraw; and he ignored it after they left altogether. He was never going to make such concessions unless he felt them absolutely necessary for his own survival. In part due to the temporary security gains of the U.S. "surge" and co-optation of the Sunni insurgency, he never really felt that he did.

Things might be different now, though. The harvest of his exclusionary politics has been long months of sustained Sunni protest, renewed insurgency, and an increasing perception that the country is coming apart at the seams. A dramatic increase in violent deaths has driven a widely held fear that Iraq is unraveling and that the fire is again burning. The perverse consequence of this year's growing violence and political crisis could finally be that the carnage is finally enough to push him to such belated, reluctant concessions. His own political survival instincts, not American leverage, might finally bring him around. With fateful elections looming next year and troubling signs emerging about the contours of the new electoral law, the White House should do whatever it can during his visit to nudge him in that direction -- and condition all of the incentives that might be activated under the SFA (like the military and intelligence assistance Maliki wants) upon his doing so.

There is little question that Maliki's persistent exclusion of Sunnis and consolidation of power has kept Baghdad's perpetual political crisis boiling. The initially peaceful protest movement that broke out among Iraqi Sunnis earlier this year was driven by widespread grievances over his sectarian politics, his government's corruption, and his consolidation of autocratic power. Frustrations grew over his refusal to compromise, and exploded over the government's brutal crackdown on peaceful demonstrations, such as April's bloody attack on protesters in Hawija. Realistically, Maliki could still probably have gotten away with his power grab and selective co-option of Sunni elites were it not for the spillover from Syria. But his obstinate political approach created a perfectly toxic environment for Iraqi insurgents to build upon their successes in Syria.

The ever-intensifying interaction between the insurgencies on both sides of the porous border goes beyond the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham (ISIS). The appeal of jihad in Syria combined with the growing political crisis in Iraq seems to have reactivated a wide range of disaffected Iraqi Sunni groups, including armed factions that had turned against al Qaeda as part of the "Awakening." A recent International Crisis Group report, for instance, quotes a member of the Islamic Army in Iraq (a key resistance group during the Awakening) as saying, "We are counting on the success of the Syrian revolution, which will provide us with a surplus of men and weapons.… We see in these protests a chance to liberate Iraq from Iran." Maliki would not disagree; he has similarly argued that "the internal situation in Syria is playing a major role with what's happening in Iraq."

Iraq's internal polarization has been inflamed by the regional environment, of course. The Gulf regimes and individuals funding and supporting the armed insurgency in Syria have taken a similarly dim view of Maliki and have reacted with fury to his perceived support for the Assad regime. For years, they had viewed Iraq's government through a hard sectarian lens and disparaged Maliki as an Iranian puppet. Iraq's tolerance of Iranian resupply overflights to Damascus and ambivalent attitude toward the Assad regime made things worse. Gulf support for Iraq's Sunni protest movement (if not the armed insurgents) has been widely rumored. While Maliki's denunciation of the protests as a foreign-backed plot should be understood as politically expedient scapegoating, there is little doubt that Iraqi politics remain thoroughly penetrated by the same regional sectarian proxy wars now afflicting Syria.

For all the grim circumstances, then, Maliki and Obama should actually have more basis for productive discussions than in their previous meetings. Even Maliki understands the growing scope and nature of Iraq's security challenges. He will likely be looking for more American security assistance and support for what he will surely describe as counterterrorism. Washington might finally be able to get him to make the necessary political reforms as part of such a security assistance package. This would cut against the grain of every move he has ever made as prime minister, of course, and nobody should be optimistic. But the combination of the greatest security crisis his government has yet faced and his growing recognition of the value of American assistance just might now make him more receptive.

The American decision to not bomb Syria last month should also help. It was not only Iraqi Shiites who were opposed to such a military strike, after all. Most prominently, the leading Sunni politician Usama al-Nujayfi also publicly warned against it: "The military strike will not be beneficial towards Syria and will ignite a fire that will possibly extend to Iraq and nearby countries." Having wisely backed away from bombing Damascus, the White House should now push Baghdad even harder on allowing Iranian supply flights to transit Iraq. It also should look for ways to work with Baghdad on their common interest in combating the jihadi groups wreaking havoc on both sides of the border. A shared interest in fighting ISIS must not be taken as license to further repress Iraqi Sunnis, however -- Obama should make clear that he views political reforms and Sunni inclusion as an essential part of any new security cooperation towards that shared goal.

The tantalizing prospect of a U.S.-Iranian political bargain, however remote such a deal may seem, should also be a key part of the new dialogue with Iraq. There are few countries that would benefit more from a cordial working relationship between Iran and the United States. While it hasn't often felt like it, Iraq still represents a natural potential bridge between Iran and the United States, and the greatest potential challenge to the alarming regional sectarian division along Sunni-Shiite lines. The United States has a profound interest in seeing Iraq break its vicious cycle of sectarian polarization, autocratic entrenchment, and insurgency. Maliki has never behaved as if he shared those interests. But Obama's coming meeting with his Iraqi counterpart would be the ideal time to test the possibility of pushing him to change his course.


Marc Lynch

Promotion Demotion

Does it even make sense for the Obama administration to push for democracy in the Arab world?

It was "a time of extraordinary transformation," President Barack Obama told the United Nations in the fall of 2011. "Something is happening in our world. The way things have been is not the way that they will be." He had no illusions about what was to come, however: "Progress can be reversed. Prosperity comes slowly. Societies can split apart. The measure of our success must be whether people can live in sustained freedom, dignity, and security."

The two years that followed offer a harsh verdict. There is little freedom, dignity, or security to be found in Egypt's military coup, Libya's rough militias, Tunisia's political stalemate, Iraq's spiraling crisis, the Gulf's repressive sectarianism, Jordan's and Morocco's stagnation, or the horrors of Syria's civil war. Small wonder that this year, Obama framed the Arab uprisings rather differently: "the convulsions in the Middle East and North Africa have laid bare deep divisions within societies, as an old order is upended and people grapple with what comes next."

Nobody should have been surprised by the difficult transitions, the ongoing turbulence, or by the ferocity and resilience with which regimes clung to power. Obama clearly wasn't. In my book, The Arab Uprising, completed in late 2011, I warned that previous periods of mass popular mobilization in the Arab world had resulted in the consolidation of even worse forms of authoritarianism. But warning against such future struggles is different from living in the middle of them -- and even skeptics might not have expected the bad times to be quite this bad.

Should -- or could -- Obama have done more to help? There's clearly a lot of frustration within the American democracy promotion community about Washington's role in these setbacks. The Project on Middle East Democracy's 2014 report on U.S. government support for democracy promotion efforts in the Middle East conveys a sense of this frustration. The authors do praise the Obama administration's efforts to secure funding to support the Arab transitions in a terrible budget environment. But they lambast the administration for lacking a "clear vision or strategy." They are particularly concerned by what they see as declining political support for democracy promotion and an administration "even more unwilling to take actions that might antagonize allied governments in the region than was the case before the 2011 uprisings."

Advancing democracy, political freedoms, and human rights should absolutely remain core American goals for the Middle East, but the last few years should force some real rethinking about how it can best accomplish those goals -- and more humility about what it can accomplish. The Arab uprisings unleashed massive power struggles between highly mobilized political actors with the highest stakes. Newly empowered publics had little interest in American tutelage on how to conduct their politics. Arab leaders had little interest in American advice about how they should best secure their thrones. The Egyptian military's view of American efforts were made painfully clear by their 2011 attacks on American democracy and civil society NGOs. Arab activists on all sides of the political spectrum are rarely shy about sharing their disdain for American policies.  Neither the United States nor any other outside actor was ever going to be able to manage those processes.

Sure, the United States could have done some things differently. For one, it should have done more politically and financially to back up its rhetorical praise for these transitions back in early 2011 -- when it could have mattered. The MENA Incentive Fund might have made some marginal difference back in the summer or fall of 2011, for instance, but now would be largely irrelevant even if it finally secured funding. Washington might have sent a very different signal had it not sat by while Bahrain and its Gulf Cooperation Council allies crushed its popular uprising, or if it had taken a more forceful response to Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) attacks on Egyptian protestors in late 2011. But those effects would only have been felt on the margins: Egyptians or Bahrainis might have hoped for American help for their cause but they were hardly waiting eagerly for Obama to lead.

At any rate, that was then. Now, it's difficult to see much point to most of the commonly discussed "democracy promotion" ideas. There's very little that the United States can usefully do to help -- and a lot less appetite in Washington for even trying. Those pushing for more spending on democracy and governance programming today must reckon with the limitations imposed by the new environment and the failures of past efforts. There is little leverage to be exercised, few friends to support, no receptivity among even supposedly friendly governments -- and other "friendly" governments are actively working against anything Washington might try to do. American democracy NGOs aren't likely going to be able to operate in places like Egypt anytime soon. It isn't clear that Washington even knows what it would demand of the Egyptian regime were it to try to use its supposed leverage by suspending military assistance (not that it would matter if the Saudis immediately replace it with twice as much unconditional aid). It's hard to care about whatever elections might eventually now be held in Egypt any more than we cared about elections under Mubarak. Frankly, spending money on Syrian refugees and humanitarian relief does make more sense than throwing it at democracy and governance programs right now.

This dismal regional environment does not mean that the United States should stop thinking about supporting change, though. Transitions may have failed, enthusiasm dimmed, autocrats regained the upper hand, and polarization divided publics, but few of the deeper structural trends that drove the Arab uprisings in the first place have faded. New counter-revolutionary regimes such as Egypt's are likely to prove no more stable or effective than their predecessors. That makes this a good time to rethink some of the core assumptions.

For instance: does the United States actually want democracy in the region? Generally, the answer has been no. The American alliance system in the Middle East has always been based upon friendships with autocrats who are willing and able to pursue foreign policies which are broadly unpopular with their publics. Autocracy was a necessary condition of America's strategic posture in the region. But many in Washington believed that untrammeled autocracy left these allies at risk of instability. Democracy promotion in practice usually meant either efforts to build and support civil society, or to nudge autocratic regimes to be more tolerant, inclusive, or open to elections to relatively powerless parliaments -- without actually changing the regimes in question. Those regimes didn't particularly care for the efforts, but most would at least tolerate the ones they viewed as harmless -- which naturally shaped which programs got funded and executed.

The Obama administration from 2011-2013 was one of the very few exceptions to this rule, other than the Bush administration's short-lived encouragement of Palestinian elections in 2006 which was quickly aborted when Hamas won. Obama, so often criticized for not caring about democracy, actually proved himself uniquely willing to accept the outcome of Egyptian, Libyan, and Tunisian elections. He chose to support the process rather than back individuals, whether in Iraq's 2010 government formation or in Egypt's transition, and demonstrated his willingness to work with an elected Muslim Brotherhood government. Naturally, most of America's allies in the region -- both the regimes and the elites who did well from those regimes -- were horrified. He was right about both strategies (at least in my opinion).

So what now, after the succession of botched transitions and hostile regional responses to American policies? ? Is there anything that Washington could do which might restore any credibility on democracy -- after tacitly accepting the coup against Mohamed Morsy or the crackdown in Bahrain? Before pushing for more money or rhetoric on democracy promotion, Washington should return to the very beginning: what is the goal? Should the focus be promoting reforms within friendly autocratic regimes in order to help them survive, or should it be on supporting efforts by popular movements to successfully challenge the autocrats? Does the U.S. want to reassure its traditional autocratic allies or to facilitate their challengers?

There are some useful things which the United States could do now. Democracy may not be in the cards, but Washington should take a consistent and forceful public stand against violations of human rights and political freedoms, whether in Bahrain, Syria, or Egypt. It should focus its programming on countries where there's still a chance to make a real difference, such as Libya and Tunisia, rather on "safe" but non-transitioning destinations like Morocco and Jordan. This might involve efforts on the ground to promote cross-sectarian or inter-ethnic relations, and should certainly involve efforts to restrain or counter the barrage of sectarian and polarizing media content. It should also try to find ways to rehabilitate the concept of democracy itself against the disenchantment and fear of change which has taken hold. It should definitely try to communicate more effectively with deeply skeptical Arab publics, and not let the Benghazi tragedy destroy engagement approaches on the ground.

But most of the steps which might actually be helpful will target precisely the survival strategies of now less-friendly and less-secure regimes, while most of those that could actually be funded and implemented won't present such a challenge.  The intensely contested new Arab politics makes it much harder for the U.S. to work both sides of the street, or to get a fair hearing for its arguments even if it tried.  The United States does have a strategic interest in seeing democratic institutions take hold across the Middle East (and, to be fair, in the United States), but it needs to seriously rethink how it tries to support them.