Democratization in the Arab World- 2009

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DOI: 10.1177/002088170904500401 2008; 45; 271 International Studies

Aswini K. Mohapatra Democratization in the Arab World: Relevance of the Turkish Model

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INTERNATIONAL STUDIES 45, 4 (2008): 271–94SAGE Publications Los Angeles/London/New Delhi/SingaporeDOI: 10.1177/002088170904500401

The author is Associate Professor, School of International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University,New Delhi. E-mail: [email protected]. He is thankful to anonymousreferees for their useful comments.

Democratization in the Arab World:

Relevance of the Turkish Model

Aswini K. Mohapatra

The article argues that the Turkish experience with democracy may not offer a ‘model’ for

democratization of the Arab states in West Asia and North Africa. It begins with a brief account

of institutional and political changes in Turkey since the establishment of the modern Turkish

Republic. It also explains how historical and structural conditions conducive to Turkey’s pro-

gression to democracy are absent in much of the Arab world. It concludes that the Turkish

experience is sui generis and cannot be replicated by any other state in the region. Nevertheless,

it does provide an example for Arab liberal reformers, currently campaigning for democracy

and political pluralism in the region.

After the end of the Cold War and collapse of the Soviet Union, there was a surge

in scholarly writings on democratization, political liberalization and economic

reforms in many parts of the world. However, states in West Asia and North Africa

received scant attention until the terrorist attacks on the US on 11 September 2001.

As global attention was focused on promoting political reforms in the region to

eliminate the ‘roots of terrorism’, Western policy-makers cited Turkey as a ‘model’

(Altunisik 2005; Bal 2000; Fuller 2004; Mango 1993, 1996; Mohapatra 2001) for

their project of democracy-promotion in the Arab world, especially because Turkey

provided an example of the compatibility between Islam and democracy.1 Against

this backdrop, the article seeks to explain why the Turkish experience with dem-

ocracy has been so attractive for others, and assess whether it is suitable for repli-

cation by other states in a region suffering from democracy deficit for a long time.

1 Turkey has often been projected as a model by various American think-tanks and the Westernmedia for enlargement of market democracies in the adjacent countries in West Asia and NorthAfrica to counterbalance the surge of radical Islam. Together with Turkey’s geo-strategic salience,the idea of a Turkish model of democracy seems to have provided the rationale for a joint US–Turkishenterprise in Central Asia following the break up of the Soviet Union in the early 1990s. During this



272 / ASWINI K. MOHAPATRA

International Studies 45, 4 (2008): 271–94

Evolution of the Turkish Polity

The modern Turkish Republic underwent a democratic transition more than two

decades after its emergence from the ruins of the Ottoman Empire in 1923. The

change-over to a multi-party system marked the end of the one party state auto-

cracy, which had continued almost uninterruptedly since the inception of the re-

public.2 The republican elites during this period were engaged in consolidating

the post-imperial regime through a strong, centralized polity. As a result, the pol-

itical system that Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the architect of the new Republic, pre-

sided over was closer to totalitarianism than liberal democracy (Huntington 1970;

Karal 1981).

For Ataturk and his lieutenants, the state was more than a source of legitimate

power in the society. It was the principal agency through which they sought to

build a modern nation, a cohesive citizenry and a strong industrial economy. The

political guarantor of the nation’s integration was to be the Republican People’s

Party (RPP), a cadre-based party dominated by a small group of Westernized elite

and some local notables. Of the two, the former included the military and civilian

officials who represented the core of ‘official elites’ or ‘state elites’. The official

elites regarded themselves as guardians of public interests, and passed laws that,

they thought, were beneficial to the society. In its essentials, the Kemalist republic

was a continuation of the ‘bureaucratic ruling tradition’ from the Ottoman times

(Ozbudun 1993). As in the past, bureaucracy became part of the political centre,

which, supported by the military, the ardent defender of the spirit of Ataturk’s

revolution, controlled the periphery more effectively.3

period, Western media, notably Newsweek, Los Angels Times and The Wall Street Journal publisheda number of articles promoting Turkey as the economic and political model in the Muslim world. Itwas first officially announced by President George Bush during the visit of Turkish Prime MinisterSuleyman Demirel to Washington in 1991. The Clinton Administration also emphasized democraticexpansion as an important element of post-Cold War American foreign policy. In order to play anambitious role in the region, Turkish decision-makers and analysts maintained that their secularbeliefs and liberal–democratic credentials represented their country’s ‘soft power’. In the past fewyears, however, the Turkish elite appears to have been less receptive to the Western projection ofTurkey as a suitable model for the Muslim world, because of various reasons, including (i) Turkishforeign policy setbacks in Central Asia; (ii) the realization that Turkey needed a pragmatic approachto West Asia since the US occupation of Iraq and (iii) the apprehensions that overplaying Turkey’s identityas a moderate ‘Islamic’ state, might adversely affect its chances of integration into the European Union.

2 It may be noted that democracy did not figure in the Kemalist–Ataturkian thought, the foundingideology of the republic. The ideas of Mustafa Kemal embodied in the ‘six arrows’ include repub-licanism, nationalism, populism, revolutionism, secularism and Etatism. Ataturk or Father–Turk wasthe new name of Mustafa Kemal after a law for the compulsory adoption of surnames was passed in 1934.

3 The term ‘periphery’ is used here quite differently from its more conventional geographicalconnotation. It is equated with those social strata, comprising such diverse groups as the commercialclass, the emergent urban working class, free professionals and peasants that were excluded frompolitical power. Serif Mardin was the first to analyze Turkish politics using this configuration. Alsosee Mardin (1973); Ozbudun (1976).



Democratization in the Arab World / 273


In short, the centre–periphery bipolarity that characterized the new polity cre-

ated a paternal state reflected in the popular expression of devlet baba or father-

state. With the adoption of etatism in the 1930s as one of the ‘six fundamental and

unchanging principles’, the economic activities of the state expanded, so much so

that it became the producer, investor and a business entrepreneur at the same

time. Although the inter-elite conflict at the centre was contained under Ataturk’s

leadership, the restrictive nature of the regime (that is, limited political liberties

and coercion of incipient opposition) led to a virtual exclusion of the masses from

political participation. Towards the end of the World War II, Ataturk’s successor,

President Ismet Inonu, guided by foreign policy considerations, took the

momentous decision to switch over to a competitive party system. Internally also,

demands for a multi-party system increased when the UN Charter, which Turkey

had signed in 1945, came before the Assembly for ratification. A group of deputies

belonging to the RPP started a public debate on the issue. They argued that by

signing the Charter Turkey had accepted, in principle, to practise genuine

democracy.

Finally, after a period of acute tension within the RPP, President Ismet Inonu

announced sweeping changes in the body politic, which set Turkey on the high

road to liberal parliamentary democracy. By the time the next general election was

held in July 1946, Turkey had a new opposition party, the Democrat Party (DP),

led by RPP rebels (Lewis 1961). The transition was complete with the 14 May

1950 multi-party elections, in which over 88 per cent of the one million eligible

voters exercised their franchise, and more significantly, the opposition DP won

overwhelmingly, to rule the country for the next ten years. The DP’s electoral

success was attributed to its diverse support base comprising modern entrepreneurs,

middle-class artisans, small merchants and rural migrants to urban centres. The

new coalition of forces refused to acquiesce in the paternalistic government of

the old ruling elites. They posed an alternative to the so-called state/official elites

represented by the RPP who sought to rule the country under strong central sur-

veillance without any dilution of the Kemalist legacy of secularism (Frey 1965:

39; Dodd 1969: 52–53). The upshot of this irreconcilable conflict of interests was

that both sides became distrustful of each other until the government of Prime

Minister Adnan Menderes was overthrown in a military coup on 27 May 1960.

The Second Turkish Republic

Following the 1960 coup, the task of drafting a new democratic constitution was

entrusted to those intellectuals who subscribed to the basic values and political

interests of the state elites. The intelligentsia received a great boost from this

exercise. The 1961 Constitution, framed under the supervision of the National

Unity Committee (NUC), recommended a titular democracy, in which parliament





was placed under the virtual tutelage of the bureaucracy. Not only did the con-

stitution introduce bureaucratic limitations upon the power of elected Assemblies,

it also proscribed religious, sectarian or ethnic politics. The rationale behind this

policy was to marginalize elected representatives and empower the bureaucratic

elite who exercised enormous power without popular accountability. Similarly,

the new electoral law introduced a system of proportional representation, which

aimed at preventing mainstream political parties from obtaining parliamentary

majority (Ozbudun 1981: 229). If Turkey faced a crisis of legitimacy in the suc-

ceeding years, it was because of the fundamental disagreement between these

two sets of elites over the principle of division of power and authority in the

Turkish polity (Karpat 1981).

In the next four years (1961–1965), Turkey was ruled by three fragile coalitions

headed by Ismet Inonu, leader of the RPP—the party, which was identified with

the state elites. In the 1965 parliamentary elections, however, the Justice Party

(JP)—successor of the DP and regarded as a centre–right political party—won 53

per cent of popular vote under the leadership of Suleyman Demirel. It was voted

to power again in 1969 with an absolute majority in the National Assembly, even

though with a reduced percentage of the popular votes. As the centre–right re-

established its electoral predominance despite frequent manipulations in the

electoral system, some radical elements in the armed forces sought to establish a

long-term military regime. The ‘Coup by Communiqué’ on 12 March 1971, which

forced Prime Minister Demirel to resign, was a tactical move by the top military

commanders to forestall a direct seizure of power by a group of radical officers

(Lewis 1976: 16).

The military intervention of 1971 produced no lasting effect, partly because it

was not supported by any political groups as in the 1960s. The so-called non-partisan

government supported by the military failed to reach a popular political consensus

on the proposed reform package. In 1971, however, the ‘semi-military regime’

faced the crucial test of electing a new president as incumbent Cevdet Sunay’s

seven-year term was due to end in March 1973. In the long-drawn electoral process

that followed, the two major political parties—RPP and JP—came together to

defeat the military-backed candidate General Faruk Gurler, who led the 1971

intervention. Instead of outright take-over, as was the case in 1960, the army

decided to withdraw into the barracks after speeding up plans for general elections,

and return to civilian party politics in October 1973 (Nye 1977: 212). During

1973–1979, Turkey passed through acute political instability and had as many as

thirteen coalition governments led alternately by Suleyman Demirel of the JP and

Bülent Ecevit of the social democratic RPP.

As the national political parties failed to obtain a parliamentary majority, they

increasingly relied on the fringe groups to form relatively stable coalition govern-

ment (Ozbudun 1987). This enhanced the role of such radical groups with leftist,

ultra-nationalist and Islamist persuasion and conferred popular legitimacy on





their ideologies. At the same time, the ideological divide between the JP and the

RPP brought about a deep political polarization in the Turkish society. As a result,

there was no broad political consensus available at the national level on any issue

of critical importance for the state and the society at large. This undermined public

confidence in central authority. At this juncture, the economic package announced

by Prime Minister Suleyman Demirel in January 1980 represented a radical de-

parture from the past practices and policies. It was a replacement of an inward-

oriented strategy based on import substitution with an export-oriented strategy in

the direction of a free market system (Onis 1992: 9–11). Predictably, the new

economic experiment provoked bitter opposition from the left, and more so from

the business class which had thrived on state protectionism. An influential section

of the country’s intelligentsia criticized the structural adjustment policies of the

Demirel government on the ground that they ‘could result in the oppression of a

large section of this society for a long period, and the unprecedented enrich-

ment of a small section’ (Birand 1980, cited in Hale 1981: 259). The left-wing

Revolutionary Workers Trade Union (DISK) launched an open campaign of strikes

to sabotage Demirel’s economic reforms. Aside from labour unrest, inflation

continued to rise above 100 per cent, and encounters between the Kurdish separ-

atists and the ultra-nationalists became more violent leading to a mini civil war.

On the whole, Turkey remained in a virtual state of siege, as the authorities failed

to deal with reactionary and subversive forces effectively. Despite constant

warnings from the military, party leaders squandered their energy in petty polit-

icking and failed to reach an agreement either on the formation of a coalition gov-

ernment or on a compromise candidate for the presidency. Amidst the deepening

political crisis, worsening economy and growing public pessimism, the reluctant

Turkish military finally made an official declaration on 12 September 1980 that

‘it had a duty to step in’ (Ahmad 1981; Hale 1994).

The Third Turkish Republic (The 1982 Constitution)

In contrast to the coup of March 1971, the September 1980 military intervention

was preceded by extensive discussion and prolonged planning for the post-coup

period. While in the aftermath of the 1971 ultimatum the military leadership pre-

ferred to work with a non-partisan civilian prime minister, the authors of the 1980

coup chose to isolate themselves from all political groups. They set up the National

Security Council (NSC) which consisted of four generals and one admiral (Birand

1987: 160–70; Karpat 1988: 150–152). The NSC was vested with legal and execu-

tive powers and headed by General Kenan Evren, the leader of the coup. He ap-

pointed Admiral Bülent Ulusu, who was then ambassador in Rome, as the new

prime minister whose cabinet mostly included civilian technocrats.

Unlike the 1971 coup, when the military concentrated mainly on left-wing

radicals, after the 1980 coup, the generals cracked down on both left-wing and





right-wing extremists. In fact, the most serious development that arguably forced

the army to step in was the massive Islamist rally in Konya organized by Necmettin

Erbakan, leader of the National Salvation Party (NSP), shortly before the coup.4

Wary of reactionary forces gaining popular legitimacy and the rising centrifugal

tendency shaking the complex social mosaic, the military sought to restrain the

pluralist thrust of Turkish politics and suspended the functioning of political groups

active during the pre-coup period. This was meant to depoliticize an otherwise

‘over-politicised state’ (Sangmpam 1992). In all, the leaders of the 1980 coup

established a framework for restructuring the political system to prevent the pol-

itical instability of the previous decade. The new constitution prepared by the

NSC-appointed Consultative Assembly and completed by the NSC itself reflected

these concerns and objectives of the military.

The Constitution of 18 October 1982, which was approved by an overwhelming

91 per cent of eligible voters in a popular referendum, seemed to be a reaction to

the Constitution of 1961. The new constitution was less liberal on civil rights,

and less respectful of the elected assembly, political parties and all other civil

society-based associations, including trade unions and voluntary associations.

Politically motivated strikes or those considered detrimental to the society and

national wealth were to be banned. Similarly, Article 33 of the new constitution

guaranteed the right to establish association without prior permission, but this

was limited by some restrictions (Owen 1994: 154–56). While such restrictive

provisions sought to prevent excessive politicization of the society, several changes

made in the structure of the parliament, party system and electoral laws were

designed to establish a rigid set of rules for electoral politics. Besides, there was

also an attempt to strengthen the Presidential authority as a guarantee against

legislative unruliness—a legacy of the 1960s. The new constitution had a two-

tiered executive where the role of the President was strengthened vis-à-vis the

Council of Ministers and Parliament. However, the system of government remained

essentially parliamentary because the President was not politically responsible to

the legislature (Herper and Cinar 1996; Ozbudun 1988: 37).

General Kenan Evren was automatically elected as President after ratification

of the constitution by a referendum. Given his apparent popularity and his role as

the leader of the junta under whose auspices the constitution was drafted, it was

no surprise that Evren wielded considerable political clout. He was supported by

the military-dominated NSC, which, according to a provisional article, was trans-

formed into a Presidential Council, an advisory body to the President. All this

pointed to the fact that Turkey had a controlled democracy, in which the mem-

bers of the junta played a key role in regulating the government. Moreover, during

the transition period, until the restoration of civilian rule, the junta tried to retain

4 Over 100,000 people participated in the meeting where an open call for the establishment of anIslamic state was made (Mackenzie 1981: 12).





tight control over the political process by banning all existing political parties

and restricting the number of new parties and limiting their role. In order to ensure

a bi-party stable political system, the new electoral law promulgated in June 1983

made it compulsory for all political parties to secure a minimum of 10 per cent of

votes to be represented in the Assembly (Tachau 1984: 57–59).

The Turkish people, who had earlier voted overwhelmingly for the new con-

stitution in a referendum, elected to the National Assembly in November 1983 a

party that promised to free the political system from military rule. Of the three

parties qualified to contest the elections, the Motherland Party (ANAP) founded

by Turgut Ozal was the least closely attached to the military. Ozal had held high

technocratic positions in the Demirel government before becoming Deputy Prime

Minister in charge of economic affairs in the Bulent Ulusu government. The 1983

elections conducted under the d’Hondt proportional representation system led to

an unexpected victory for Ozal and his party, which won more than 50 per cent of

the Assembly seats and 45 per cent of total valid votes.5

If the electoral outcome was any indication, the majority of Turkish voters

preferred restoration of civilian government to continuation of military rule. As

Ozal headed the first civilian government bringing an end to a three-year period

of military rule, a new phase of Turkish politics began. Dominated by Ozal and

his party for the next ten years, Turkey experienced three politically salient changes:

(i) liberalization of the economy giving greater social recognition to the entre-

preneurial class; (ii) de-bureaucratization of the political system,6 and (iii) autono-

my of civil society. These changes were regarded as an indication of what a Turkish

analyst has termed, ‘a moderate instrumental state’—a state in which a dynamic

consensus may evolve through multiple confrontations of civil society groups

(Gole 1994; Heper 1985). Indeed, a ‘debate culture’ among diverse social groups

and associations emerged in the later half of the 1980s with gradual civilianization

of the post-1980 Turkish polity. Ironically, these developments facilitated the

steady growth of neo-Islamic Refah Partisi (Welfare Party). Islamic sentiments

grew in the early 1990s onwards and helped Refah triple its electoral strength

5 Named after the Belgian mathematician Victor D’Hondt, this system is based on the divisormethod to elect candidates from political parties in proportion to the votes polled by that party. Italso sets a threshold or barrage according to which a party failing to receive that threshold will nothave any seats allocated to it. It was first introduced in Turkey by the 1961 Constitution and retainedby the 1983 electoral law with a threshold of 10 per cent of the national vote (Hale 2008).

6 The Ozal government attempted to de-bureaucratize the political system through indirect methodssuch as reducing government’s involvement in the economy, greater reliance on market forces, pri-vatization of the State Economic Enterprises (SEEs), tackling the bureaucratic red tape and last butnot the least, induction of US educated technocrats–managers, referred to as ‘Ozal’s princes’, intopublic economic enterprises (Heper 1990).





from 7 to 21 per cent during 1987–1995. Indeed, Refah emerged as the single

largest party to lead the coalition government in June 1996. For the first time,

Turkey had a prime minister whose political philosophy was based on Islamic

solidarity rather than national solidarity of the Anatolian Turks, as defined by the

founder of the Republic.

While growth of Islamic activism was due to the failure of mainstream parties

(Yayla 1997), revival of Turkic nationalism had much to do with the tide of changes

that swept across the Eurasian landmass following the disintegration of the Soviet

Union. For Turkey’s right-wing nationalists, the rise of Turkic republics repre-

sented a historic opportunity to realize their enduring political dream of establishing

a unified Turkic entity. Organized under the leadership of the late Alparslan Turkes

(1917–1997), the Nationalist Action Party (MHP), attracted radical nationalists

who subscribed to the concept of Turan (the land of Turks) that constituted the

core of political pan-Turkism. The upsurge of Kurdish ethnic activities during this

period also fuelled such radical Turkish nationalism.7 Once on the political margin,

the MHP emerged as a formidable force, winning over 18 per cent of the popular

votes in the 1999 municipal and legislative elections and becoming a junior partner

in the three-party coalition government led by Bülent Ecevit until November 2002.

To sum up, the Turkish polity in the past several decades vacillated between

bureaucratic and military tutelage on the one hand, and a ‘debilitating pluralism’,

on the other.8 Intense conflict among political elites destabilized the polity, under-

mined public confidence in civilian government and bolstered public approval

and trust in the military.

Transition to Liberal Democracy

The appropriateness of the Turkish democracy as a model for other Muslim coun-

tries in the region has been contested by many observers both from the region and

outside. While the Arabs ridicule Turkey’s democracy as a complete farce and a

‘democracy of tanks’,9 Western critics harp on its illiberal character reflected in

the absence of democratic political culture, high level of human rights abuse and

denial of cultural liberties to the minority Kurds (Kamrava 1998; Tessler and

Altinoglu 2004). According to Fareed Zakaria, ‘the greatest danger that illiberal

democracy poses—other than to its own people—is that it will discredit liberal

democracy itself, casting a shadow on democratic governance’ (Zakaria 1997: 24).

The restrictive nature of Turkish polity has much to do with the dogma of homo-

geneity imposed by Ataturk, which has alienated national minorities, especially

7 ‘All about MHP’, Turkish Daily News, 27 April 1999. Also see Arikan (1999).8 Debilitating pluralism is the result of the over-emphasis on particularistic interests, the lack of

restraints and the absence of consensus to resolve conflicts among political elites, though the politicalsystem is based on effective consent of the governed (Heper 1992).

9 Middle East Mirror, 28 September 1998 (cited in Bengio and Ozcan 2001).





the Kurds who constitute a sizeable proportion of the Turkish population (Izady

1992). It was, in fact, during the formative years of the Republic that the seeds of

a stronger Kurdish national identity were sown as a reaction to the forcible

imposition of ‘Turkishness’ or the notion of Turkism—an artificial politico–

ideological construct. Rather than integrating its Kurdish population, Turkey’s

official denial of Kurds as a distinct ethnic category and its desire to find a military

solution to the problem have, over the years, seriously jeopardised its democratic

credentials (Hannum 1990; Magnarella 1999).

Finally, what makes Turkish democracy less liberal or pseudo-democratic in

the eyes of many Western observers is the primacy of the military, which is regarded

as the ultimate guardian of the state ideology of Kemalism and protector of national

territory.10 The political strength of the military in Turkey is derived partly from

its role as the vanguard of the national liberation movement and partly due to the

constitutional powers given to it after each intervention.11 As a result, the Turkish

military not only defies civilian control, but also asserts its political effectiveness

by making demands, and policy suggestions and issuing warnings in matters of

national concern, particularly in defence of Kemalism. Among institutional chan-

nels, through which the military has extended its authority, the most important is

the NSC comprising the President, the Prime Minister, some cabinet members,

the Chief of General Staff and serving force commanders. It was established

after the 1960 coup and initially designed to serve as a platform for the military to

voice its opinions on matters related to national security. With the 1973 amend-

ments in the aftermath of the 1971 intervention, its primary function was ex-

tended to making recommendations to the government. Finally, the status of NSC

was upgraded by the Constitution of 1982, which stipulated that the council of

ministers had to give top priority to NSC recommendations (Sakallioglu 1997:

157–58). Despite the October 2001 amendments to the Constitution that increased

the number of civilian members in NSC and reduced its powers by making its

decisions merely recommendatory in nature, the essential power imbalance

between the civilian and military wings of the NSC has not significantly changed

(Jenkins 2007: 345).

It was indeed through the NSC that the Turkish military moved into politics

on 28 February 1997 by ordering the Welfare Party-led coalition government to

implement a list of measures designed to crack down on Islamist activities. As the

10 Nowhere has this been more glaring than in the functions of the Chief of General Staff whotakes all major decisions affecting the armed forces unfettered by the civilian control. It is the insti-tutional autonomy that the Turkish armed forces are allowed to retain, which renders the civiliansupremacy unsustainable.

11 For a discussion of the historical, social and cultural context that legitimizes a dominant role forTurkish armed forces, see Jenkins (2001: 9–14).





government prevaricated, the military stepped up pressures forcing the then Prime

Minister, Necmettin Erbakan, the first pro-Islamic party leader to head a govern-

ment in Turkey, to resign after nearly a year in power. A few months later, the

Welfare Party was closed down by the Constitutional Court and its founder,

Erbakan, was banned from politics for five years. In the aftermath of the February

1997 intervention, what has come to be known as Turkey’s ‘soft coup’, there was

a dramatic change in the level of the military’s involvement in civilian affairs.

The main instrument effecting that change, according to an analyst, ‘has been a

new national security-oriented discourse fuelled by the perceived need to pro-

tect the republic against Kurdish separatism and Islamic extremism’ (Sakallioglu

2003: 214). The ideological and structural hegemony of Turkey’s military-led

establishment was, to some extent, responsible for the fragility of civil society in

the country.12

All the same, democracy has taken firm roots in Turkey. The recent develop-

ments, (notably the two successive electoral victories for the newly formed Justice

and Development Party (JDP) in the November 2002 and July 2007 national

elections, formation of the first single-party government since 1987 and the sub-

sequent political reform packages) indicate that Turkey is well on the way to

transform itself into a liberal–democratic state. The JDP, also known as AKP by

its Turkish acronym, emerged as the largest party with 34.3 per cent of the popular

votes and 363 seats in the 550-member unicameral parliament.13 Established in

August 2001 by the younger members of the banned Islamist Welfare Party and

its successor, Virtue Party, the JDP has made its commitment to secularism and

declared itself as a ‘conservative democratic’ or a ‘Muslim Democratic’ party, ra-

ther than an Islamist party (Dagi 2005: 30). Although interested in preserving

Islam’s social base (traditional values, practices and norms), the JDP leaders have

rejected any project of ‘social engineering’ by using political power to transform

society in accordance with the precepts of a particular ideology (Yilmaz 2007:

492).14 More significantly, the JDP, unlike its predecessors, has adopted a platform

of staunch support for Turkish integration into global economy, membership in

the European Union (EU) and overall alignment with the West. Commenting on

12 Apart from three major confederations of approximately eighty labour unions and two big businessand entrepreneurs’ organizations, the TUSIAD and MUSIAD, there was mushrooming growth ofnon-governmental organizations (NGOs) (over fifty thousand) and human rights groups in the 1990s(Simsek 2004; Toprak 1996).

13 Tayyip Erdogan, a former mayor of Istanbul and Abdullah Gul, a British-educated economist,became the Chairman and Vice-chairman of the party respectively. The former was, however, bannedfrom holding any formal office on the ground of a conviction in 1999 for inciting religious hatred.The party changed the constitution to allow him to contest the March 2003 by-election. He won theelection and became prime minister. See Helena Smith, ‘New Breed of Politicians Start to Find TheirFeet,’ Guardian, 10 March 2003.

14 On the rise of conservatism and how it benefited the JDP electorally, see Kalaycioglu (2007).





the second successive victory of the ruling AKP in the July 2007 general elections,

a Turkish commentator said: ‘The result is a clear vindication of the AK Party’s

performance. It is a “yes” to democratic reforms, a “yes” to a market economy

and open society; it is a “yes” to the EU membership process and opening up to

the world’.15

As the pace of reforms gains momentum under pressure from the EU following

its decision in December 1999 to accept Turkey’s membership,16 many wonder

whether Turkey’s secular–Kemalist elite (military and bureaucracy) would ever

reconcile to a restructuring of the Turkish polity in contravention of the unitary

and secular character of the republic. They are also likely to oppose any step

aimed at reducing the salience of the armed forces in the Turkish political system.

The proposed reforms, some of them already approved by the parliament, range

from guaranteeing complete freedom of expression and association to removal of

legal provisions on the use of mother tongue, and protection of minority and

human rights, democratic control of armed forces and decentralization of power.

As regards civil–military relations in Turkey, two important changes—the ap-

pointment of a civilian secretary–general of the NSC and bringing the military

spending under closer civilian scrutiny—mark a definite shift in the country’s

power structure (Jenkins 2007).17

No doubt, there are voices of resistance from within the Kemalist establishment,

but the military has refrained from projecting itself as a potential barrier, partly

because the issue of EU membership enjoys broad popular support, with the excep-

tion of small sections of radical nationalists and Islamists. Besides, becoming

part of Europe has been its long-cherished goal and Turkey’s admission into the

exclusive club would mean confirmation of Ataturk’s position that Turkey was

part of western civilization. A significant part of Ataturk’s reforms in the early

years of the Republic was in fact aimed at ‘destroying the symbols of Ottoman–

Islamic civilization, and substituting them with their Western counter-parts’ (Toprak

1993: 631).18 Consequently, the West has continued to be ‘an important “mirror”

through which the Turkish elites see themselves, their polity, and society’ (Heper

1993: 17).

15 The JDP scored a landside victory, winning 341 seats and 46.6 per cent of popular vote in theJuly 2007 election. See Ihsan Dagi, ‘The Democratic Reflex’, Today’s Zaman, 24 July 2007, athttp://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/yazarDetay.do?haberno=117388 (last accessed on 22 September2008).

16 Two years after its rejection for the second time at the 1997 EU summit in Luxembourg, Turkey’scandidature was considered. The decision for starting the accession talks was taken in December2004 and the negotiations formally began on 3 October 2005.

17 For an analysis of changing civil–military relations in Turkey, see Ozbudun (2007).18 For Ataturk, westernization involved not only acquiring technology but also wholesale importation

of the cultural practices of the West (Gole 1997).





Relevance of the Turkish Model

Before assessing the suitability of the Turkish model of democracy for the Arab

World, it would be useful to explain why the Turkish experience has attracted the

attention of many observers in recent years. First, the origins of Turkish democracy

lay in a period when the country was largely agrarian and rural, accompanied by

a high rate of illiteracy and low level of economic development. Therefore, it

contradicts the argument of most modernization theories, which emphasize the

correlation between levels of socio-economic development and propensity for

democratic rule (Dahl 1998; Lerner 1958; Lipset 1959).19 Second, despite all its

structural weaknesses and institutional limitations, the success of electoral dem-

ocracy in Turkey has disproved the notion of West Asian exceptionalism, which

holds that political systems in the region would never fit into general patterns of

democratization elsewhere. It has, at the same time, debunked the claim that Islam

is incompatible with democracy.20 Third, the democratic framework in Turkey

has offered political space for Islamist opposition and even led to a compromise

between the demand for a secular state and the spiritual needs of the people,

expressed in the ‘Turkish–Islamic synthesis.’21 According to a survey in 2006,

about 46 per cent of the Turkish population identified themselves by their religion,

compared to 36 per cent in 1999. However, the number of Turks favouring im-

position of Shari’a law declined from 21 to 9 per cent during this period.22 The

process of reforms that started after the 1980 coup brought about a remarkable

shift in public debate on secularism from the conventional description of Islam

and Kemalism as incompatible ideologies to the relative acceptance of Islam within

Turkish national identity. Commenting on the shift in public debate with regard to

the secularism, Erik-Jan Zürcher has noted:

Perhaps the greatest success of Turkey’s modernizing elite is the very fact that

it has lost its monopoly of the political and cultural debate. Through the spread

of higher education and wealth there has come into being a large and vocal

middle class, important parts of which no longer regard a strong religious

identity and a modern way of life as incompatible.23

19 Seymour Lipset (1959) and Daniel Lerner (1958) are the two leading proponents of the correlationthesis. Robert A. Dahl (1998) has provided a critique of this approach to democracy.

20 As argued by Martin Kramer and others, Islam fosters an illiberal political culture either becauseof its uncompromising and dogmatic position or because it prevents the emergence of a fully functionalcivil society (Kramer 1993: 35).

21 For a critical examination of the integration of Islamic values in Turkey’s national political cul-ture, see Kaplan (2005).

22 The survey was conducted by the Turkish Economic and Social Studies Foundation, an inde-pendent research organization based in Istanbul. See The New York Times, 28 November 2006.

23 Erik-Jan Zürcher, ‘The Rise and Fall of Modern Turkey’, Turkology Update (Leiden ProjectWorking Papers Archive, Department of Turkish Studies, Leiden University), available online atwww.let.leidenuniv.nl/tcimo/tulp/Research/Lewis.htm (last accessed on 22 September 2008).





Last, but not the least, Turkey’s historical and institutional linkages with the

West and its resolve to maintain these linkages have made the military sensitive

to external pressures, unlike in other Third World countries where similar linkages

serve as an external support to sustain undemocratic regimes.

While all these factors make the Turkish experience attractive, it cannot be

replicated in the Arab world because the historical and structural conditions that

contributed to the process of democracy in Turkey are either absent or have been

obstructed by a process of dependent state-formation in other states in the region.

Besides, there are also certain features specific to Turkey which are not shared by

the rest of the states in the region. For example, Turkey, born out of the Ottoman

Empire, inherited strong state-traditions such as experience in statecraft, respect

for the state and its importance in Turkish culture, which have been ‘specific

steadying factors in the history of the Turkish Republic, endowing it with a degree

of political gravitas’ (Mango 1977: 265). Political institutions of the post-imperial

Turkey were extensively recast, but the composition of the elite remained essen-

tially unchanged. The fact that an estimated 93 per cent of the Empire’s staff

officers and 85 per cent of its civil servants retained their positions in the new

republic suggests the continuity of the ruling elite from the Ottoman to the Kemalist

era (Rustow 1965: 198). Moreover, there existed in the Ottoman Empire a distinct

centre, which was lacking in the Arab states. While the former was characterized

by bureaucratic politics, the latter was dominated by an organic link between

local notables on the one hand and families, clans and other primordial structures

including religion on the other (Heper 1987: 159).

Another condition favourable to Turkey was the absence of a strong landed

class in Anatolia. As compared to the small and medium land holdings of some

local notables, particularly the aghas in the least developed eastern part of Turkey,

nearly 60 per cent of land in Iraq, for instance, was owned by 2 per cent of the

total number of landholders until the mid-1950s (Batatu 1978: 57–82). Similarly,

70 per cent of cultivable land in Egypt was owned by 4,000 families, accounting

for about 1 per cent of the population (Bromley 1994: 131), while 2 per cent of

landowners held two-thirds of total cultivated land in Lebanon, and 2.5 per cent

of the total landowners held about 45 per cent of irrigated and 20 per cent of rain-

fed land in Syria (Warriner 1948: 85). Thus, unlike Turkey, a powerful upper landed

class made up of old aristocracy, tribal chieftains and urban-based notables con-

trolled these Arab states both socially and politically after their independence.

The Arab notables, in fact, played a dominant role in the elections and assemblies

established by Britain and France during the mandate period. However, failure to

mobilize rural peasantry and expand organized political activity led to erosion of

the power base of the notables with the weakening of European imperial power

and the rise of nationalist forces largely drawn from ‘intermediary classes’ com-

prising professional petty bourgeoisie and merchants, landowning entrepreneurs

and small landowners (Ahmad 1996: 45–57). According to Gerber (1987: 164–66),





it is the absence of a significant landed class in Turkey and its presence in Egypt,

Iraq and Syria at the time of formation of the modern, independent state that

accounts for the democratic politics in the former and authoritarian rule in the

latter.

Another distinctive feature of the Turkish experience has been the relatively

unproblematic consolidation of state authority as early as the 1920s because Turkey

escaped from both formal colonialism and mandate or protectorate status imposed

on much of the Arab world after the break up of the Ottoman Empire. While ab-

sence of European political control enabled the republican elite to undertake radical

secular reforms and impose a rigid mono-ethnic identity, Turkey’s international

position during the inter-war years as an ally of Britain (the leading power of the

period) and as a potential bulwark against Soviet influence, helped facilitate both

consolidation of state power and state-led economic development. Interestingly,

the statist approach was congruent with the global trend of protecting national

economies in the 1930s, particularly after the Great Depression. Despite being

interventionist, the Turkish state did play a crucial role in the development of an

entrepreneurial stratum, which was practically non-existent earlier since the non-

Muslim minorities (Jews, Armenians and Greeks) had controlled much of mer-

cantile activity during the Ottoman era. The new Turkish entrepreneurs according

to Lewis (1961: 467), ‘were self-confident, self-reliant and ambitious; they were

becoming resentful of controls and restrictions imposed upon them by what they

had begun to regard as the dead-hand of officialdom’.

In the post-World War II period, pressures from the nascent bourgeoisie and

compulsions of alliance with the West brought about a shift in the direction of a

liberal economic order in Turkey. The emphasis on agricultural development

through mechanization and commercialization was laid by external sources,

notably the aid programme under the Marshall Plan and the report prepared by a

commission of American experts headed by an industrialist, Max Thoraburg, for

the World Bank. The report recommended dismantling of state-owned manu-

facturing firms including the country’s only iron and steel complex (Owen and

Pamuk 1998: 104). As noted earlier, the change-over to multi-party system owed

more to compulsions of forging close security and political ties with the West to

cope with the Soviet threat than to any popular movement against the party–state

autocracy. The process of capitalist state formation, started in the post-World

War II years, was complemented by Turkey’s organic links with the West (that is,

formal entry into the NATO in 1952 and association with the European Economic

Community in 1963). Indeed, this created favourable conditions for Turkey’s re-

latively successful experiment in popular participation. As the entrepreneurial

class grew in size and controlled significant resources in the wake of rapid eco-

nomic development and industrialization during the 1950s and the 1960s, the

statist Turkish elite was constrained to allow space for private sector organizations





like the Turkish Industrialists and Businessmen’s Association (TUSIAD) to func-

tion without state control. Parallel to this was the increasing activity of trade

unions since the 1960s, indicating some degree of political autonomy gained by

the working class.

In contrast to Turkey’s experience, the colonial background was particularly

important in shaping the Arab state system in a variety of ways, from imposition

of Western form of states24 and artificial state boundaries (Iraq, Syria and Jordan)

to appointing rulers (Jordan and Iraq) and recognizing ‘royal families’ of the Gulf

Sheikdoms as ‘ruling families’ with dynastic rights (Anderson 1991: 9). Regardless

of some basic differences in their approach, colonialism of both French and British

types encouraged the formation of ‘local oligarchy’, which sought to bring about

‘order’ in the societies they ruled (Ayubi 1995: 91; Mitchell 1988).25 If the French

created urban-based ‘native associates’ in North Africa and a ‘sect class’ in the

Arab East (such as the minority Alwaites in Syria), British colonialism promoted

and strengthened the agrarian and latifundist or feudal sections of bourgeoisie in

Iraq and Egypt. In brief, the persistence of imperialist control, even after inde-

pendence and the presence of an upper landed class (which dominated surplus

appropriation), provided the context for socio-political upheavals in the Arab world

(Davis 1991: 122; Owen 1994: 20–24).26 The Arab revolutions, for example,

launched by military-led nationalist forces in Egypt, Iraq and Syria were more

than anti-imperialist. They, unlike the Kemalist movement in the Turkish republic,

involved removal of the existing dominant economic class and its replacement by

the state. Apart from undertaking agrarian transformation and state-led indu-

strialization, the nationalist leaders destroyed the power of the notables through

programmes of land reforms and replacement of parliamentary politics by a mixture

of popular mobilization and imposition of bureaucratic forms of control from

above, organized by the party–military ap-aratus (Bromley 1994: 163).

Consequently, an authoritarian state structure emerged in the Arab world, which

was consolidated by at least three factors: conflict with Israel, entanglement of

the region in superpower rivalry during the Cold War period and the oil economy

of the 1970s (Owen 1983). While the Palestinian issue and ideological proximity

to the former Soviet Union during the Cold War period helped legitimize some of

the Arab regimes, the Israeli threat, together with involvement of the superpowers

24 This includes mainly the elaboration of bureaucratic administrative structure and creation of awell-trained and well-equipped army.

25 The term ‘ordering’ is central to the notion of ‘enframing’ of societies, ruled by the colonialpowers, for the purpose of disciplining and managing them.

26 The context, according to Owen (1994), was provided by the territorial state inherited from thecolonial powers. For Davis (1991), however, the context is provided by the pre-existing organicsocial formations such as tribes, sects and clans that existed before the advent of modern state systemin the area. The variety of ways in which they were incorporated into new political system posed ob-stacles to stability.





in the region, contributed to militarization of Arab politics. This, in turn, had the

effect of both reinforcing the primacy of the military over other state institutions

and strengthening the state control of society in the Arab world. Further, the former

Soviet Union encouraged its allies to adopt a one-party dominant political system

and command economy model, while the US was opposed to popular reformist

movements for fear of disturbing the status quo favourable to its policy of contain-

ment and stability of oil supplies. Lastly, resources allocated for enforcing state

authority was accounted for by the rentier income derived from two different

sources: huge oil reserves and geo-strategic utility. The latter came from foreign

economic and military aid, known as strategic rents, which many Arab states

received during the Cold War period from global powers competing for influence

in the region. The former created a region-wide oil economy in the 1970s, incor-

porating both oil producing and non-oil producing countries through flows of

labour, capital and goods and services.27

Together they contributed to the expansion of security and repressive appara-

tuses as well as the bureaucracy, which provided the rulers with a stable platform,

a control device and a space for extending patronage (Ayubi 1995: 308).28 Much

of the administrative structure of the oil-producing Arab Gulf States, however,

originally grew from the imperative to expend, rather than extract, wealth. Hence,

they turned into what Korany (1994: 511) calls the ‘backshish states’. Due to the

‘rentier’ nature of the national economy,29 they did not depend on domestic pro-

ductive base for revenues. Instead, the primary economic function of the state

was allocation and distribution of revenues accruing from oil exports (rents). As

a result, the ruling elites enjoyed, and still continues to enjoy considerable freedom

in choosing its allies and changing their political allegiance through a policy of

co-option, which operates principally along kinship, tribal and ethnic lines. It is

through this practice of ‘inclusionary corporatism’30 that the Gulf rulers have

managed to win over potential opponents and neutralize popular discontent.

Collectively, the rentier character of the economy, the Arab–Israeli conflict

and the involvement of the global powers in the region contributed in varying degrees

to the emergence of what Ayubi (1995: 3) calls a ‘fierce state’. Others describe it

27 Beblawi (1990: 98) calls the 1970s as ‘the oil era’ in the Arab history. For details on the Arabeconomy during the period see Farsoun (1988).

28 The bureaucratic expansion refers to increase in the numbers of administrative units, personneland rise in public expenditures, particularly wages and salaries.

29 The concept of ‘rentier state’ was first suggested with reference to Iran by Mahdavi (1970). Hecon-siders the oil revenue and external proceeds as ‘rent’ derived from leasing lands to oil companies.Beblawi (1990) later refined the term to mean a state in which large amounts of rent accrue directlyto the government from ‘foreign actors’ and creation of wealth is concentrated in a small fraction ofthe society, since the rest is only engaged in distribution and utilization of this wealth.

30 This refers to a method of ensuring the domination of the state over society and economy bycontrolling corporate social forces such as the tribal corps (the Shaikhs), the merchant families,leaders of religious sects (i.e., Ibadites, Shias or Zaidis) and religious movements.





as ‘police state’ or the mukhabarat (national security) state with limited ‘infra-

structural power’ in terms of its penetration, not domination, of society primarily

through taxation. Taxation, especially modern direct taxation of the individual

citizens, is not simply reflective of the extractive capacity of the state; it involves

public demand for accountability from, and representation in, the government.

Accordingly, little taxation in the Arab world accounts for little representation.

Turkey, in contrast, fits well with Luciani’s (1990) categorization of ‘production

states’, where economic growth is linked to an increase in government revenues

through taxation.31 During the 1970s, for example, taxes accounted for more than

80 per cent of Turkey’s total revenues (Shambayati 1994). Dependence on domest-

ically produced surplus obligated the Turkish state to be responsive to the demands

of the entrepreneurial classes that had already achieved a fair measure of autonomy

because of their significant control of resources and organizational capacity.

The bourgeoisie in the Arab world is either underdeveloped or subordinated to

the state32 and the state plays a central role in the economy by assuming respon-

sibility for resource allocation, production and distribution. The deep involvement

of the state in surplus appropriation has blocked the development of independent

organizations outside the state and reduced the space for political and ideological

mobilization. Without a significant degree of separation between political system

and control of economic resources, ‘the dominant class has a direct material stake

in opposing democratic control of the state’. Bromley (1994: 165) terms this as

‘uncoupling the material basis of power of the ruling class from the formal exercise

of state-political power’. This is what precisely explains the persistence of au-

thoritarianism in the Arab world notwithstanding political reforms initiated in the

late 1980s and the 1990s.33 The superficial nature of participation and contestation

suggests that reforms were meant only to ensure regime survival in the face of

economic crisis that had set off widespread rioting (Sadiki 2000). The same was

the case with the civil society organizations, which, rather than being a conduit

for political freedom or collective empowerment, became an extension of the

state itself. Unlike in Latin America and Eastern Europe, the growth of civil society

in the region ‘did not precede or lead to political change; it followed regime-

sponsored reforms’ (Wiktorowicz 2000: 45; Yom 2005: 14–33).

It is argued by Hinnebusch (2006: 374) that ‘authoritarian regimes can adapt

to new conditions and specifically that their political liberalisation or pluralisation

is, for structural reasons, more likely to be a substitute for democratisation than a

stage on the way to it’. Theoretically, political liberalization encompasses the

31 The rentier states have been designated by Luciani as ‘allocation states’ (Luciani 1990: 65–84).32 The local bourgeoisie is highly dependent on the state for financing, contracts, employment and

protection. For details, see Waterbury (1994: 28) and Johnson (1985: 14–17).33 Interestingly, an analyst described the reforms as the ‘Third wave of democratisation in the

Arab world’ (El Sayyid 1994: 179–89).





more modest goal of loosening restrictions and increasing civil liberties within an

authoritarian regime, while democratization goes beyond such ‘controlled opening

of political space’ (Przeworski 1991: 57). It is a complex historical process con-

sisting of several stages, and liberalization marks the first stage of transition during

which a state moves away from authoritarian rule towards democracy. A demo-

cratic transition is complete when the institutional structure is established, when

sufficient agreement is reached about political procedures to form an elected gov-

ernment and when a government comes to power through a free and popular vote.

What follows next is democratic consolidation, a slow but purposeful process

during which behavioural, attitudinal and institutional dimensions indicate that

democracy is accepted by all forces in society as the ‘only game in town’ (Linz

and Stepan 1996: 5; Schedler 2001). However, not all those undergoing the tran-

sition reach this consolidation stage. While some relapse into authoritarianism,

others enter the ‘political gray zone’ in which regimes are neither dictatorial nor

clearly headed towards democracy (Carothers 2002: 9). In the absence of suitable

appellation, such regimes are designated as ‘liberalised autocracies.’

Arguably, some Arab regimes fall under this category, whereas others remain

fully autocratic with zero tolerance for dissent or competitive politics like in Syria,

Saddam’s Iraq, Saudi Arabia and Libya (Brumberg 2003: 4). By contrast, liberal-

ized autocracies promote competitiveness without inclusiveness, which, in other

words, means free elections without meaningful participation in decision making.34

Although ‘liberalised autocracy has proved far more durable than once imagined’,

it is ‘a type of political system whose institutions, rules, and logic defy any linear

model of democratisation’ (Brumberg 2002: 56). In the aftermath of 11 September

terrorist attacks, for instance, the global menace of Islamist terror has been used

by these regimes as a pretext to restrict participatory politics and control collective

activities outside the state-delineated space. Even the middle class (entrepreneurs

and educated professionals) in many Arab states prefer the reigning autocrats

to any rapid transition towards democracy that ironically raises the possibility of

bringing Islamist parties to power, whose ‘devotion to democratic principles can

be expressed by the aphorism: “One man, one vote, one time”’ (Sivan 2000: 77–78).

Furthermore, the ‘democracy deficit’ in the Arab world is attributed by some

observers primarily to the absence or weakness of external forces that have driven

democratization elsewhere (Bellin 2004; Gambill 2003; Niblock 1998). Advanc-

ing this argument, the editor of London-based Arabic daily, Al-Quds al-Arabi,

Abdelbari Atwan, complained in 1999, that ‘the winds of democratic change have

swept all parts of the world except our region, because (the then American Secretary

of State) Madeleine Albright wants us to have dictators and monarchical presidents

34 For discussions of the two distinguishable dimensions of democratization—competition andinclusiveness, see Sorensen (1998: 15–22).

35 Al-Quds al-Arabi (London), 14 October 1999 quoted in Gambill (2003), available at http://www.meib.org/articles/0308_me1.htm (last accessed on 22 September 2008).





to ensure that we remain weak and vanquished’.35 The geo-strategic imperatives,

such as a reliable oil supply, necessity to find new markets, protection of the

Jewish state of Israel and containment of political Islam, have all played a decisive

role in exempting the Arab world from Western pressures to democratize. It is

indeed important to remember that the West Asian peace process in the 1990s was

part of a calculated US policy to prevent popular upheavals and overthrow of

regimes, as in Eastern Europe. ‘It is a strategy of change’, a leading American

analyst once commented, ‘to preserve the leaders’ rule and to reinforce it as the

barrier to extremism and internecine warfare’ (Cohen 1994). Similar concerns,

especially after the 11 September 2001 appear to have overridden all proclamations

of commitment to democratization in the region, whether by the US or the EU.36

Despite the recent pro-democracy campaign in the Arab world, what seems ques-

toinable is whether the US could afford to antagonize the very regimes whose

cooperation it seeks, not only for a secure supply of oil, but also in its war on

terrorism.

Conclusion

The comparative analysis of state formation and patterns of political develop-

ment reveals that the conditions favourable to Turkey’s democratic experiment

were absent in the Arab world partly because of the latter’s colonial background

and partly due to the impact of the rentier economy, the Israeli threat and the

superpower competition in the region during the Cold War period. Stated dif-

ferently, what makes the Turkish experience unique is a combination of historical

and structural factors: the absence of a landed class and formal colonialism, early

consolidation of state power, establishment of popular legitimacy, close links

with the West and development of modern social groups as a result of institutional

separation of state from economy. On the contrary, obstacles to democracy in the

Arab world go well beyond the autocratic nature of present regimes to include a

host of factors—underdeveloped bourgeoisie, prevalence of patrimonialism

in state structures, fear of Islamists capturing state power, and the multiple Western

security concerns that guarantee external support to authoritarian rule in several

states. These have led to a situation where politics in most Arab countries has be-

come a family business and democratic initiatives are suppressed by the robust

security apparatus of the state. As aptly described by a noted Egyptian scholar, ‘If

raison de la nation has retreated in the face of raison d’e’tat, now this latter is

retreating in the face of raison de la famille’(Korany 1997: 147).

36 While the EU pursues a soft approach to democracy-promotion in the Arab world based on‘bottom up’ strategy, the US has adopted a policy defined in terms of power politics or Machtpolitik.For an evaluation of the EU and the US strategies, see Gillespie and Youngs (2002), Ottaway (2003)and Alterman (2004).





Under such conditions, a ‘pacted’ approach (Richards, 2005: 28–35) to demo-

cratic transition seems to have greater chances of success in the Arab world than

emulating the Turkish model or for that matter, transplanting democracy by force,

as in Iraq. There has to be a two-phase transition to make a democratic experiment

successful in the region—extrication from authoritarian politics and establishment

of a democratic polity. Based on a win–win, not zero–sum approach, such transi-

tion would involve a tacit agreement between reformers within the existing regimes

and the opposition forces including moderate Islamists, who seek a gradual end

to authoritarianism (Ibid.). Despite several impediments such as mistrust of the

respective parties, foreign power domination and stalled regional peace process,

transition ‘pacts’ and democracy with guarantees seems more attractive than the

Turkish democratic model to the Arab liberals. This is largely because of Turkey’s

problematic relations with the Arab world since its estrangement from the region

in the aftermath of World War I.37 Conscious of such difficulties, historical baggage

and, more importantly, structural limitations, Turkish policy makers currently

prefer to project their democratic experience as a source of inspiration rather than

a model for replication in the Arab world.

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