Dreams and Shadows: The Future of the Middle East (56 page)

Among Middle East parties, the difference between fundamentalist, Islamist, and an “Islamic reference” can seem a semantic shill to skeptics. The differences often seem nuanced. Definitions also vary by party; context varies by country. But the distinction is the essence of an emerging political trend in the Middle East.

“If you compare us with the Muslim Brotherhood, there is a big difference. Oh, yes!” Othmani told me. “The leader of the Brotherhood has the job for life. In our party, I can serve
only
two terms.”

“We’re also democratic in the way we elect our officials and decide policy,” he added. “Every official is selected from a local, regional, or national conference, not picked from the top.” Othmani was elected in a three-way contest by 1,600 members of his party.

“All together, we vote on policy, too!” he said.

The search for compromise by Islamic parties began in the late 1990s. Among most, it is still at a tentative stage. Reasons for a shift range widely.

The first major factor is the reaction to past confrontations.

In Algeria, a civil war between Islamic extremists and the military government killed almost 200,000 people between 1992 and 2002—and solved little. The war erupted after the 1992 military coup aborted Algeria’s democratic transition, just as a nonviolent Islamic party running in a field of fifty-four parties was about to sweep parliamentary elections. The popular Islamic Salvation Front was banned, and its leaders were detained. The Islamist trend then splintered, spawning extremists who fought the military, sabotaged its government, and terrorized the public. The violence was often bestial. No one was safe.

A stark message rippled through the region: Confrontation can be costly in human life and to the cause of change. When the war ended, an autocratic government was still in place. And the chronic problems of the poor were only worse.

Morocco, which shares a 1,000-mile border with Algeria, shivered as Algeria was badly shaken by turmoil and brutality.

“Our party is trying to do something good for the country. That’s why you’ll hear our members talk a lot about not wanting Morocco to repeat the Algerian experience,” Abdelkader Amara, a young member of parliament and head of the party’s political section, told me.

Other Islamist movements—Egypt’s Center Party and Muslim Brotherhood, the Iraqi Islamic Party and Dawa, Jordan’s Islamic Action Front and Center Party, Kuwait’s Islamic Constitutional Movement, Turkey’s Justice and Development Party, and Yemen’s Reformist Union—have begun running for office and working within government institutions. Even groups with provocative names, such as the Supreme Council for the Islamic Revolution in Iraq, now participate in secular politics. Their transition is only beginning. But they have rejected violence and distanced themselves from extremists.

A second factor is the rise of reform movements.

The 1997 surprise victory of reformers in Iran, where the revolution had launched political Islam a generation earlier, gradually inspired rethinking regionwide. Even though reformers were ousted in 2005, the mere fact of diversity in Iranian politics demonstrated the possibility of options. Reform entered the Islamist lexicon.

Philosophically, Othmani identifies with Soroush, Iran’s leading philosopher, but he goes one step further. “We want renewal, which goes beyond reformation,” Othmani told me. “Reform means using what you have and making small new interpretations. Renewal means radical change, to produce whole new ideas, not just to fix the core.”

He takes an especially bold stand on the relationship between mosque and state. Jihadists want to blend the two after ousting the autocrats. But Othmani argues that the Prophet Mohammed had separate roles as religious leader and political chief of the new community of Muslims. “When we distinguish between these two behaviors, it gives us the precedent to separate political and religious institutions,” Othmani explained.

The third factor is the reaction to al Qaeda.

After September 11, 2001, the gap widened among Islamists. Activists were forced to take a definitive stand on terrorism. Public alienation also increased as extremism took a mounting toll on Muslims themselves. Between 2002 and 2005, public-opinion polls found opposition to violence against civilians in the name of Islam had soared. Disapproval grew in pivotal countries such as Morocco, Turkey, Pakistan, Indonesia, and Lebanon, according to the Pew Research Center.

Opposition was highest in Morocco, where it more than doubled—to almost eighty percent. The shift followed the 2003 Casablanca bombings by an al Qaeda ally. The survey also found support waning in most countries for Osama bin Laden.
³⁰

A fourth factor is the impact of the stunning Islamist upset in the Palestinian elections.

The Hamas victory in 2006 scared many Islamic groups. Its win only deepened Palestinian problems. The cutoff of international aid left seventy percent unemployed, sparked deadly new clashes with Israel, and ended up threatening the existence of the Palestinian Authority.

Hamas made a mistake, several officials in Morocco’s Party of Justice and Development told me.

“It would have been much better for the Palestinians, and also for the situation in the Middle East, if they had come into government gradually,” said Amara, the parliamentarian, who is also a veterinary specialist in the pathology of ornithological diseases, such as bird flu.

“I think they were taken to power by what we call The Wave. The same thing could happen in Morocco. It’s the reason that we ran candidates in only sixty percent of the districts in 2002,” Amara explained.

“We did it deliberately to prevent being taken to power by The Wave.”

Other factors foster political compromise: Geographic proximity to democratic governments, notably Mediterranean countries close to Europe; historic political experience and ties to the outside world, even through colonialism; cultural diversity that exposes communities to each other; and economic need.

Morocco reflects a special confluence of factors.

A country slightly larger than California with a 1,200-mile coast bordering both the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, Morocco straddles two worlds. It is both Arab and African. In the seventh century, the invading Arabs called it the Farthest Land of the Setting Sun.

To this day, Morocco remains the westernmost outpost for both Islam and the Arab world.

It is also the closest Arab gateway to Europe, just fourteen miles from the Strait of Gibraltar. Ties between Arab and Western cultures date back to the eighth century—via Morocco.

After sweeping across North Africa, the Arab army used Morocco as a base and Morocco’s Berber tribes as recruits to move into Europe. The Arabs penetrated the Iberian Peninsula, then came within 200 miles of Paris. They controlled the region for the next 500 years. The rich Moorish culture that took root in Spain borrowed heavily from the Berbers as well as the Arabs. Andalusia eventually declared its independence from the Abbasid dynasty in Baghdad and established its own caliphate in Córdoba in the tenth century. It was the largest and the most culturally sophisticated polity in Europe at the time.

Morocco’s proximity to Europe has had an enduring impact. Spain occupied northern Morocco in the nineteenth century. Morocco then became a French protectorate in 1912. Since independence in 1956, Morocco’s troubled economy has been dependent on tourism by Europeans and Americans plus remittances from Moroccan workers in Europe.

The crosscurrents remain strong.

Morocco is also the least Arab country in the diverse Arab world. The vast majority of Morocco’s thirty-three million people are also at least part Berber, a non-Arab ethnic group that can be traced to North Africa since Neolithic times. Up to one half are pure Berber, and Berber is still widely spoken. The king’s mother was Berber. Othmani is Berber. Driss Benzekri is part Berber. The Berber roots reflect the country’s African identity. Morocco is as much of a player in the African Union as it is in the Arab League.

Morocco is also far from the front lines of the Arab-Israeli conflict, the main reason that the monarchy has been willing to deal with Israel and mediate peace talks. King Hassan broke with the Arab world to host Israeli Prime Minister Shimon Peres in 1986. Israel opened a small diplomatic mission in Morocco in 1994. King Hassan also brokered talks between Israel and Yasser Arafat in 1995. And when the king died in 1999, Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak and Moroccan-born Foreign Minister David Levy attended the funeral.

Morocco is, in many ways, one the most obvious places for a compromise to flourish.

But compromises also come down to making choices—and to leadership.

Othmani was among Morocco’s early Islamic activists. He came from a religious family. His father was a professor of Islamic law. As a student, Othmani was a leading figure in Islamic Youth, the first major Islamist movement in Morocco. Founded in 1972, its focus was Sunni students. Its agenda was antiregime. When the youth group spawned a militant wing in 1981, however, Othmani quit.

“It embraced violence and undemocratic activities,” he told me, “so many of us split off and organized ourselves in the Islamic Association.”

He paid a price for his activism. He was jailed for almost five months in 1981, while still in medical school. After he was released, he spent the next decade organizing Islamic activists in civil-society groups, running an Islamic magazine, and exploring ways to form a legal Islamic party.

“I never,
never
envisioned I’d be in parliament,” he told me.

But in 1992, the groups he helped pull together took over a moribund party that still had legal status and turned it into Morocco’s first Islamic political party. He was one of fourteen who won a seat in parliament in 1997.

Othmani has since been a consensus builder, crafting compromises on issues that make Islamic parties most controversial—and preventing the party from being outlawed.

Women’s rights is one of the most contentious issues. The party helped to mobilize almost one million men and women to protest changes to the Moudawana in 2000. It labeled the initial draft “a bid to corrupt Moroccan families” that would foster a “culture of dissoluteness” by eliminating Islam-inspired provisions in Moroccan law.
³¹
But when the king made it part of his 2003 agenda, the party debated it—heatedly, Othmani conceded—and in the end supported the new Moudawana.

Ironically, the Party of Justice and Development is among the most inclusive to women. It has a fifteen-percent quota for women in all branches, the highest of any party. Among the forty-two party members who won seats in parliament in 2002, six were women, matched only by the Independence Party. And after the 2003 local elections, it had the highest number of women in local councils.

The most contentious foreign-policy issue for Islamic parties throughout the Middle East is Israel. In a 2006 speech in Washington, Othmani spoke at length about Islam’s early relations with Jews. He cited the Medina Charter, often considered the first constitution in Islam. It was enacted by the Prophet Mohammed following his migration to Medina in 622. The Charter, Othmani noted, stipulates:

Islam intends to insure, Othmani concluded, that “Every man has the right to believe in any religion and shall not be harassed.”

I asked Othmani if his party was willing to accept Israel’s right to exist—or even use the word Israel, which Islamist parties elsewhere refused to do.

“Yes, yes, we use the word Israel. Israel exists, of course,” Othmani said. “What we need to find is a solution for both parties.”

A two-state solution? I asked him.

“Why not?” he replied. “We need mutual recognition.”

The party’s biggest compromise is its go-slow policy. Under pressure from the government, it agreed to run candidates for only one quarter of city council seats in the 2003 local elections. Autocratic governments are often most wary of devolving power because Islamist groups build strong local bases; they often deliver more of what they promise in terms of local services and development.

When I visited party headquarters, the leadership was in the midst of a similar debate—over how many seats to contest in 2007 national elections for parliament. Othmani favored running a full slate. Aziz Rebbah, the Canadian-educated engineer, argued against it.

“The population’s expectations from our party are bigger than our capacity,” Rebbah told me. “We also need time to create trust between us and other actors in the country, like the business community.