Qatar: Small State, Big Politics (23 page)

A second pillar of political power is based on the emir’s ability to balance between multiple countervailing tendencies and forces within Qatari society. In many ways, Sheikh Hamad is the supreme balancer. This balancing occurs in the form of navigating, as carefully as possible, the processes of change and modernization while at the same time appearing respectful to the forces of tradition and cultural heritage. In both personal conversations and public appearances, Hamad reiterates the need to manage change in measured and careful ways, no doubt mindful of the fate that befell the Shah of Iran in 1979. The first article of
Qatar National Vision 2030
points emphatically the need to foster “modernization and preservation of traditions” together. According to the document,

Preservation of cultural traditions is a major challenge that confronts many societies in a rapidly globalizing and increasingly interconnected world.

Qatar’s very rapid economic and population growth have created intense strains between the old and new in almost every aspect of life…. Yet it is possible to combine modern life with values and culture. Other societies have successfully molded modernization around local culture and traditions. Qatar’s National Vision responds to this challenge and seeks to connect and balance the old and the new.
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There are multiple examples of this type of balancing by the emir personally and by the state he heads at large. In 2011, a group of extremist Wahhabis, purportedly with backing from individuals within the Awqaf Ministry, tried to bulldoze a Shia cemetery in the outskirts of Doha. Learning of the incident, the emir is said to have expressed outrage and to have made a rare appearance at a Shia funeral as a sign of his displeasure with the extremists. At the same time, to the surprise of most outside observers, Doha’s newest attraction, and its central place of worship for the country’s Muslims, is a mosque named after the founder of the Wahhabi movement.

The naming of the visually stunning new national mosque, whose construction started in 2009 and which was inaugurated in December 2011, as the Imam Muhammad Ibn Abdul Wahhab Mosque, is another example of careful balancing. In a highly publicized ceremony, the emir’s remarks seemed to be carefully calibrated to highlight his and the system’s observance of Wahhabi principles:

We named the mosque after the great reformer and a renowned reviver Imam Muhammad Ibn Abdul Wahhab in honor of the Muslim scholars, who still carry his thought and call for revival to serve Islam and Muslims….

His walk all through life in the path of light spread throughout the Arabian Peninsula, guides people to the right path according to the Holy Quran and
Sunnah
, removes confusion from the minds and deviations that confounded souls….

We, as we meet today to open this mosque and name it after Imam Muhammad bin Abdul Wahhab, are honoring scholars who still carry his thought and his message to serve Islam and Muslims. I’m honored along with you to open this mosque and I pray to Almighty Allah to help us now and in the future to keep this mosque a platform to light and a torch of guidance.
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The expression of such sentiments is often as puzzling to outsiders as is Qatar’s apparent “maverick” and “enigmatic” foreign policy. But balancing is to domestic politics what hedging is to foreign policy. It is a deliberately calculated policy of keep an eye on the forces of tradition and culture as cherished and represented by the more conservative members of society, while advancing a broadly defined modernization and becoming a central hub for globalization. The clash of the two, of the amorphous and often incoherent pulls and pushes of tradition and modernity—however vaguely conceived and perceived by those experiencing them—inevitably places the state in difficult and at times contradictory positions. Once again, however, the state’s agility, rooted in the centralization of its decision-making processes and the small size of society over which it governs, enable quick and seemingly successful responses to occasional pushbacks and backlashes. In late 2011, for example, after complaints by Qatari nationals about intoxicated expats on the Pearl-Qatar, an artificial island and one of Doha’s main attractions, the sale of alcohol on the island was suddenly banned. The ban came shortly after pork was made available for sale at the country’s only legally licensed alcohol shop for foreign nationals. That the state responded swiftly and in such a dramatic manner—with several high-end restaurants and eventually shops closing up due to dried up business—is an indication of its careful attention to and its responsiveness to social pressures. For now, the state’s maneuverability—and at its core Sheikh Hamad’s careful balancing act—between countervailing forces and dynamics is important to bear in mind.

A final pillar of the state’s political power is its security apparatus. Qatar is, after all, governed by an authoritarian system, and the monarchical regime is autocratic and absolutists. But Qatar is far from the typical “
mukhaberat
state” for which Middle Eastern political history is infamous. By all standards, Qatar’s total autocracy is uniquely benign, and, somewhat counterintuitively, relatively popular. This popularity derives from the manner in which the state in general and the emir in particular have positioned themselves in relation to Qatari society.

Driving around Doha one is impressed not only by what one sees all around—dramatic and often outlandish manifestations of the country’s extraordinary physical transformation—but also by what one does not see, namely larger-than-life statutes and portraits of the emir. Such contrived symbols of brotherly love for the leader are routine if often resented features of the urban landscape in the Middle East, especially before the Arab Spring brought down the seemingly omnipresent—and supposedly invulnerable—Ben Ali and Qaddafi. To this day, especially across the Persian Gulf, photos of kings and rulers adorn major boulevards and public buildings from Kuwait City to Manama, Riyadh, Abu Dhabi, Dubai, and Muscat. But not in Qatar. The emir’s countenance is conspicuous in its absence from the streets of Doha and from the nation’s flagship institution of higher learning. Instead, in Education City, large sculptures in English and Arabic exhort students to “think,” “explore,” and “discover.” When at a matriculation ceremony in 2011 in Education City Sheikha Moza declared the establishment of the Hamad bin Khalifa University, the emir, who was in attendance, seemed genuinely surprised.
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This is not to imply that the emir, or more accurately his state, is not omnipresent. But the emir’s portraits are not a product of the careful pattern of rule and a deliberately cultivated image of humility and of being “of the people.” Being everywhere and yet in not too many places is one of the key reasons that account for Sheikh Hamad’s genuine popularity among an overwhelming majority of Qataris.

The state does not have the same laissez faire attitude toward surveillance that it seems to display toward economics. In fact, the eyes of the state are everywhere. “Smart Cards,” rolled out by the Interior Ministry in 2011, now double as residency permits, national identity cards, and electronic gate passes at the airport. Technically meant to help cardholders avail themselves of government e-services, they are generally seen as more efficient means of state control and surveillance. More ominously, not-so-hidden cameras are everywhere. Hotels, malls, parks, and the popular Doha Corniche are all filled with closed-circuit television cameras. Literally all major boulevards and thoroughfares are lined with what are officially called speed cameras but are popularly assumed to be for more nefarious purposes. Some of the more important highways, such as the one leading to Wajba Palace, the emir’s official residence, show visible signs of the latest surveillance equipment. Even if these are indeed speed cameras meant for checking Qataris’ obsession with speed, and even if Smart Cards do mean to make life easier, the general assumption that their actual purposes are different serves as means of inducing compliance.

Qatar’s is a highly refined, high-tech authoritarianism. It does not rely on oversized policemen with batons to frighten the population into compliance. It does not hoist larger-than-life photos of a smiling emir approving of his subjects’ daily lives as they pass through major intersections and squares. There are few uniformed policemen visible anywhere other than those manning traffic in Doha’s chronically congested roads. The ubiquitous private security guards found in the shopping malls and elsewhere are all migrant workers, mostly from Nepal, and dare not even look straight at Qatari nationals, never mind keep a watchful eye on them. One of the emir’s first official acts when he took over in 1995 was to disband the despised Information Ministry, seen as an archaic, outdated symbol of his father’s dilapidated dictatorship. He was praised for his foresight and his liberal leanings. But censorship then steadily developed a new look. It is now more subtle.

All states watch their citizens, and some do so more intently than others.
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Qatar’s modus operandi for doing so has important consequences for the state itself and its relationship with social actors, both Qatari citizens and expatriates. For purposes of mass consumption, both domestically and internationally, the state presents itself as progressive, deeply concerned with social welfare and issues of human security. The state’s official narrative, as articulated in the
National Vision 2030
, promises to move the country forward while maintaining respect for tradition and heritage. Combined with the emir’s benevolent image and his palpable popularity, the perceptions created by the state’s official narrative do appear to have gained widespread currency among Qataris at large. Qatar’s dictatorship, in other words, is genuinely popular. The state, of course, takes nothing for granted, remaining ever vigilant about potential signs of dissent. But it takes great care not to needlessly antagonize its subjects by outlandish displays of royal grandeur or its corollary of extensive police presence. The result has been a generally stable, and largely popular, system of royal autocracy.

According to a 2009 cable from the US embassy in Doha, Qatar’s intelligence services have four top priorities. They include “a) regime protection; b) the existential threat from Iran; c) threats of increased criminal and/or collective labor activity by third-country workers; and d) counter-terrorism.”
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The cable went on to state that “Qatar’s State Security (QSS) simply does not see a credible terrorist threat here.” QSS is far from complacent, however. Because the printed media seldom publish articles or letters to the editor challenging the official narrative, expressions of discomfort often find their way into Qatari cyberspace, and therefore cyber-policing by the authorities is commonplace. Qataris posting blogs deemed unacceptable have been visited by the authorities and warned to desist. None, to my knowledge, have been jailed for their blogs; the cautions appear to be sufficiently intimidating.
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Similarly, in public spaces such as shopping malls and in Qatar University, undercover QSS agents are assumed to keep their ears open for politically sensitive conversations, resulting, if need be, in a visit to their headquarters in central Doha. Qatar remains perhaps the only country in the Arab world without any political prisoners.

Conclusion

Throughout the Middle East and North Africa, the one common thread that unites disparate political systems is their bureaucratic inefficiency and their all too-frequent policy discords at the highest levels of state power.
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Although the sheikhdoms of the Arabian Peninsula are by nature less prone to policymaking inefficiency because of their comparatively smaller sizes, their greater financial resources, and the family-centered nature of their political decision-making processes,
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none comes anywhere close to Qatar in the levels of cohesion and unity among the country’s top elite. In Saudi Arabia there are frequent disagreements among influential princes over a number of key policy choices. The Bahraini and Kuwaiti states both feature parliaments that, although often pliant, can at the very least slowdown the policymaking process. In Kuwait, the parliament at times has brought the political process to a grinding halt over contentious policy issues. And, as the “freedom revolutions” of 2011 starkly demonstrated—rocking the Al Khalifa to their very foundation in Bahrain and bringing unrest into Eastern Saudi Arabia—the Arab Spring made a shy appearance as far as the southern shores of the Persian Gulf. But Qatar’s shores remained calm. Perhaps because of its benign nature, the personal popularity and political savvy of the emir, and its ability to foster unimaginable personal riches for most Qataris, the country’s autocracy remains remarkably stable.

That Qatar is the world’s wealthiest nation has much to do with its stability and the power of its state. By itself, however, wealth is an insufficient ingredient of state power. It is undeniable that the Qatari state has significant financial resources at its disposal and that it employs these resources in ways meant to optimize its power and stature domestically and internationally. But it also has an incredibly effective policymaking apparatus. More specifically, today Qatar has a highly centralized, streamlined, and cohesive elite of policymakers who are united in their vision of the country’s regional and global roles. Particularly since the ascension to power of Hamad bin Khalifa in 1995, the Al Thanis’ domination of the state has become overwhelming while intra-family tensions have precipitously declined. In addition to tremendous wealth, today the Qatari state benefits from a level of elite cohesion that is comparatively rare in the Persian Gulf region and is almost unique across the Middle East.