Author: clubweb

Introduction

Why do Middle Eastern states intervene in other Middle Eastern states’ civil wars? Yemen saw its first major instance of intervention in 1962, with the North Yemen Civil War, when royalist forces supporting Imam Muhammad al-Badr’s reign over the Mutawakkilite Kingdom, backed by Saudi Arabia, clashed with republican forces supporting the Yemen Arab Republic (YAR), who were backed by Nasser’s Egypt.¹ With chronic instability in between, Yemen faced its second major instance of foreign intervention on March 26, 2015, when Saudi Arabia, leading a coalition of Arab states, launched a military intervention to restore Sunni President Abd Rabbo Mansour Hadi to power amid the country’s division between the pro-Hadi camp in the south and the Iran-backed Houthi faction in the north.² Interventions in Yemen, despite often being framed as religiously motivated, ultimately reflect deeper power struggles rooted in post-colonial regional dynamics and global patron-client relationships. From the 1962 North Yemen Civil War to the 2015 Saudi-led interventions, religion and ideology function as a tool for achieving geopolitical dominance, rather than serve as ultimate goals. 

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This paper contends that Yemen’s civil wars serve as a microcosm of the broader patterns of Middle Eastern state interventions in civil wars. Analyzing how Middle Eastern states intervene in civil wars to support the leadership of respective religious sects, religious motivations are revealed to be surface-level justifications hiding the underlying goal of such interventions: regional hegemony in the post-colonial Middle East and North Africa (MENA). Ultimately, interventions are facilitated by international patrons, whose interventions in civil wars are essential to advancing their diplomatic goals without entering a full-scale war.

Historical Context of Yemen’s Two Major Civil Wars

Yemen’s history of civil war is rooted in post-independence struggles for political identity, leaving room for patron countries to use the situation as a battleground to implement their respective political identities.³ The first major civil war in Yemen began in 1962, shortly after the end of British colonial rule. Before this, Yemen was under the control of the Zaydi imamate, which increasingly faced opposition due to its hereditary nature.⁴ In the 1950s, sentiments of national liberation and modernization rose in Yemen, leading to the ascent of republican forces supported by Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser’s secular, pan-Arab vision.⁵ On the other hand, royalist forces backed by Saudi Arabia, supported Imam al-Badr to preserve the Zaydi imamate.⁶ The war thus became a two-level proxy struggle between royalist forces, supported by Saudi Arabia and funded by the United States and Britain, and republican forces, who were supported by Egypt and funded by the Soviet Union.⁷

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Yemen’s second civil war began after the Arab Spring ousted President Saleh in 2011. In 2012, Hadi replaced Saleh in a Gulf-sponsored transition.⁸ However, dissatisfaction with Hadi’s government led to widespread unrest, and by September 2014, the Houthi movement, a Shia group from the northern region, seized control of the capital, Sanaa.⁹ Subsequently, Yemen split into two factions: a Sunni-majority government loyal to Hadi in the south, and a Shia-majority Houthi faction in the north, supported by Saleh. In response, Saudi Arabia, leading a coalition of Arab states, launched “Operation Decisive Storm” on March 26, 2015.¹⁰ This military intervention aimed to restore Hadi to power and crush Houthi influence, which was perceived to be supported by Iran.¹¹ The operation was part of the broader Iran-Saudi Arabia power struggle, with Saudi Arabia and its allies aiming to block Iran’s influence in Yemen via the Houthis. Saudi Arabia’s intervention was framed as a defense of Yemen’s sovereignty and a means to counter what it viewed as Iranian expansionism in the region. Finally, it is important to clarify that while Egypt was using Yemen as a proxy against Saudi Arabia in 1962, it abandoned this strategy when it came to the 2015 Intervention. Rather, Egypt diplomatically supported Saudi Arabia with its attack on Houthis and politically endorsed the installation of Hadi.¹² 

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Thus, in both of Yemen’s civil wars, filling the ideological gap in the country was central to the patron countries’ aims and by extension those of the ideological factions which carry out their influence. In this sense, Yemen’s internal contest over governance and identity, namely monarchical versus republican in the 1960s and competing sectarian-political orders in the 2010s, created a vacuum that external powers sought to fill by backing local factions that reflected and advanced their own regional, ideological, and strategic agendas.

Sectarian Triumph: The Façade of MENA Interventions

Religion, or lack thereof, is one motivation that drives MENA states to intervene in each others’ civil wars. The goal of such intervention is often to install a leader who shares similar religious views, does not challenge the sectarian status quo, and does not threaten the existence of a sect-based state. This is exemplified by Saudi Arabia and Egypt’s involvement in the 1962 North Yemen Civil War, which serves as a microcosm of religiously motivated civil war intervention. 

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While religion played a role in shaping Saudi Arabia’s 1962 and 2015 interventions, it was not the sole driver in either case. On a surface level, Saudi Arabia’s support for the Yemeni monarchy during the 1962 North Yemen Civil War can be seen as a defensive measure to protect its religious values against the Nasserist-backed secular republicans from North Yemen, who aimed to establish a pan-Arab secular state along Saudi Arabia’s borders. After all, from Saudi Arabia’s perspective, an alliance with a Zaydi Shiite monarchy—a branch of Islam that diverges from Wahhabi Sunnism primarily in its interpretation of leadership and Islamic jurisprudence—was preferable to the rise of an entirely secular republic. This would challenge not only Saudi Arabia’s Islamic identity, but also the religiously grounded status quo of monarchies in the region.¹³ From Nasser’s side, intertwining religion with the state was perceived to be an obstacle to pan-Arabist secular socialist ideology, as demonstrated by his crackdown on Muslim religious organizations in Egypt.¹⁴ Therefore, it was essential for Nasser to back a regime that lacked religion in its secular socialist governance system when the opportunity arose to support the republican forces in 1962; it was an addition to the ideological arsenal of Nasserism in the region. 

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The involvement of Saudi Arabia in Yemen’s civil war in 2015—along with those of other MENA nations—can be traced to their drive for religious triumph. Saudi Arabia and Iran’s interventions are deeply tied to their roles as custodians of competing Islamic ideologies, Wahhabism and Twelver Shiism respectively.¹⁵ The aforementioned religious doctrines are not merely theological; they have become the basis of governance in Iran and Saudi Arabia, and influence both their domestic and foreign policies.¹⁶ The Iran-Saudi rivalry demonstrates a clear intersection between religion and interventionist policies. Saudi Arabia, being home to Islam’s two holiest cities, Mecca and Medina, places a unique responsibility on its king, who is regarded as the “Custodian of the Faith.” His custodianship legitimizes the Kingdom’s self-image as a spiritual leader of the international Muslim community.¹⁷ This status provides an incentive for Saudi Arabia to actively counter perceived threats from Shia movements, often supported by Iran, to maintain its dominance as the global Sunni leader.

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Conversely, as Mahjoob Zweiri and Majed AlAnsari describe, Iran’s Velayat-e faqih doctrine imbues its regime with a Shia-centric revolutionary zeal. As such, support for Shia militias and movements, such as those in Yemen, Iraq, and Lebanon, are an integral part of its broader strategy to champion “the oppressed” against Sunni hegemony.¹⁸ This struggle for religious primacy is not limited to ideological contestation but translates into proxy wars in fragile states.¹⁹ For instance, Saudi Arabia’s intervention in Yemen, framed as a campaign to counter Iranian influence through the Houthi movement, is essentially a desire to suppress Shia empowerment which would threaten its religious hegemony.²⁰ Similarly, Iran’s backing of Shia-aligned forces in Syria and Iraq reflects its commitment to expanding its religious and political influence under the guise of protecting Shia communities.²¹ Thus, the civil wars in the MENA region reveal quite a consistent pattern: they served as battlegrounds for a larger religious and political rivalry. This pattern is exemplified by Saudi Arabia and Iran’s leveraging of their religious identities to assert dominance in Yemen’s fragile domestic politics. 

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However, while religion played a role, the primary concern for Saudi Arabia was not theological alignment but the preservation of regional power. In the North Yemen War of 1962, this is demonstrated by the mere fact that Saudi Arabia is a Wahhabi Sunni Kingdom that supported a Zaydi Shiite Kingdom against a secular republic. Notably, Wahhabi Sunni orthodoxy—which emphasizes a strict, literal interpretation of the Quran and Hadith—stands in stark contrast to Zaydi Shiism, which values reason and self-reflection over strict adherence to literal interpretations of religious texts.²² If religion were the primary concern, Saudi Arabia, as a Sunni kingdom, would not have supported a Zaydi Shiite regime. Saudi Arabia viewed Nasser’s pan-Arabism as an ideological and political threat, one that sought to topple monarchies across the Arab world and replace them with secular republics.²³ Therefore, this intervention was not a religious crusade but a defensive measure aimed at protecting the Kingdom’s monarchy and transcending sectarian goals. 

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In 2015, religion ultimately served as a tool to legitimize intervention, as Saudi Arabia framed its support for the Yemeni monarchy as a defense of traditional Islamic values—despite the true motivation being the preservation of regional hegemony.²⁴ As May Darwich argues, the Sunni-Shia proxy war narrative pushed by Saudi media is a distorted construction designed to cover Saudi Arabia’s underlying goal of maximizing power.²⁵ The Kingdom, while promoting the idea of a religious divide, is primarily concerned with preserving its dominance over its southern neighbour located on the Bab al-Mandab Strait at the south entrance of the Red Sea, making it an essential piece in Saudi foreign policy.²⁶ Moreover, religion alone cannot explain Iran’s intervention in Yemen because the Houthis and Iran diverge significantly in theology and religious practice. The Houthis, who follow Zaydism, a branch of Shi’a Islam closer to Sunni practices, do not adhere to Iran’s Twelver Shi’a beliefs, nor do they recognize the Iranian Supreme Leader as their religio-political authority.²⁷ The relationship between Iran and the Houthis is better understood through their shared adversaries—namely, Saudi Arabia, the United States, and Israel—rather than any deep theological alignment.²⁸ Thus, Iran’s support is driven by the pursuit of influence in the region, with the Houthis as the proxy to counterbalance Saudi and Western dominance, rather than religion in itself.

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One can therefore argue that sectarian rhetoric in MENA interventions often functions less as the true cause of foreign involvement and more as a political instrument used by regional powers to legitimize strategic competition, mobilize domestic and regional support, and mask underlying geopolitical ambitions.

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The Post-Colonial Race to Regional Hegemony 

Since religion does not suffice to explain why MENA states intervene in one another’s civil wars, one may argue that the race to regional hegemony, especially after decolonization left a power vacuum in the Middle East, is a relevant factor in explaining interventions. The instability left behind by colonialism created a power vacuum that required states to assert themselves through self-affirming frameworks, such as revolutionary nationalism or religious legitimacy, to gain political authority at the fall of colonial institutions.²⁹ Without a unifying colonial authority, regional dominance was a central objective for states striving to fill this power void. Thus, tensions over the role of regional hegemon in the post-colonial Middle East readily increased the longer the position remained vacant. 

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After Yemen gained independence in 1962, the YAR was established in the north and the People’s Democratic Republic of Yemen in the south. With pro-monarchy groups emerging in the north, the question of whether Yemen would adopt a secular Nasserist model or a religious monarchy became central to the race for regional hegemony between Egypt and Saudi Arabia. Yemen, as a newly independent nation, was susceptible to various ideological influences, and Saudi Arabia, much like Egypt, aimed to ensure it aligned with its vision for the region. It is also central to situate the Yemen intervention within the context of the fall of the United Arab Republic (UAR) in 1961, which represented Nasser’s pan-Arabism and thus made its failure a stain on Nasserist ideology. After this humiliation, Nasser aimed to restore his image through intervention.³⁰ Notably, he chaired the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM), a key post-colonial movement against imperialism, from 1964 to 1970. Therefore, Britain’s support for Saudi Arabia made the confrontation between Egypt and Bahrain in Yemen even more symbolic, as Egypt would be fighting against its former colonizer.³¹ 

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Nasser’s 1962 intervention in Yemen thus exemplifies the competition to become a regional hegemon in post-colonial MENA. He portrayed Egypt as the leader of the Arab revolutionary movement, justifying the deployment of 60,000 troops to Yemen in a “life-or-death” struggle against what he considered “reactionary” monarchies like Saudi Arabia.³² Seeking to establish itself as a regional hegemon, Nasser’s anti-British and pro-republican Egypt viewed Yemen’s republican forces as an opportunity to support one more pan-Arabist secular country in the Middle East. He considered the republican forces’ victory as a victory of Egypt’s own, serving as a promotion of Nasserist ideology and thereby Egyptian regional hegemony. On the other hand, this posed an existential threat to the Saudi Kingdom, as it could not tolerate having an anti-monarchy and anti-religion state on its border. 

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Therefore, one could argue that these competing visions led MENA states to intervene in one another’s civil wars. These interventions, essentially, may be taken on by MENA states to secure their position as the regional hegemonic country and ideology in a space that is marked by a lack of hegemonic actors.

International Sponsorship: The Hand of Interventions

While the competition for regional dominance in the post-colonial Middle East provides much of the motivation behind MENA states’ interventions, the role of international sponsors adds another incentive to intervene. Ultimately, it is external powers who offer the financial, military, and ideological support that makes these interventions possible. Essentially, when Middle Eastern states intervene in the civil wars of neighbouring states their actions are driven not only by their national interests but also by the objectives of their patron states. 

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For instance, Egypt in 1962 did not only deploy soldiers on the ground in Yemen to spread Nasserism and establish Egypt as a regional hegemon; it did so because it equally worked in the interest of the USSR, which provided Egypt with the resources necessary to deploy troops in Yemen. The Soviet Union’s decision to support Egypt’s intervention in Yemen was rooted in a shared ideological alignment with Gamal Abdel Nasser’s vision for the Arab world. Particularly, his anti-imperialist and socialist leanings ideologically resonated with Soviet objectives during the Cold War.³³ While Nasser sought to spread anti-imperialism and socialist ideals, the USSR supported Egypt because it aligned with Khrushchev’s view that the socialist camp had a duty to help countries fighting against colonial domination, even if they were not yet socialist.³⁴ To enable Egypt’s intervention, the Soviets provided essential resources, including long-range Antonov-12 transport planes, which Egypt lacked.³⁵ Soviet pilots flew the warplanes and trained Egyptian personnel, which ensured Egypt could sustain its operations in Yemen. This quick response from Moscow was motivated by its desire to strengthen its influence in the Middle East and counter Western power. This demonstrates that Egypt’s intervention was as much about fulfilling Soviet strategic goals as it was about Nasser’s regional ambitions. 

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International sponsorship of regional intervention serves as the elaboration of shared goals of both patrons and clients. In this case, Nasser and the USSR’s shared socialist and secular goals were arguably the driving force behind the Egypt-led, USSR-funded intervention in Yemen. 

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Alternatively, patron states may rely on their client groups to fight their battles. This dynamic is displayed in the relationship between Iran and the Houthis in Yemen. Direct confrontation between Saudi Arabia and Iran would be highly detrimental due to the significant economic and geopolitical risks involved. Both nations are major oil producers, and any conflict would disrupt the Strait of Hormuz, through which approximately 30% of the world’s oil passes.³⁶ Such a disruption would lead to soaring global oil prices, adversely affecting both economies and the international market. Yet, they are two ideologically opposed countries. The ideological warfare between Saudi Arabia and Iran stems from their differing visions of political systems and their competition for regional dominance. Iran’s Khomeinist ideology, which rejects monarchy and formalizes clerical authority in politics while promoting a populist agenda, is antithetical to Saudi Arabia’s monarchy, which upholds a traditional, autocratic system.³⁷ Saudi Arabia and Iran’s differences are further intensified by their diverging stances on Western presence in the region: Saudi Arabia pursues normalization and favorable relations with the West, while Iran completely rejects it and advocates for anti-Israel and anti-Western policies.³⁸ The previous differences fuel their rivalry, as both seek to assert their leadership and influence over the Middle East.³⁹ This is why it is essential for Saudi Arabia and Iran to carry out their ideological warfare through a proxy, that being Yemen’s Houthis. 

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Iran’s support for the Houthis is a clear example of how patron-client relationships shape interventions in Middle Eastern civil wars. Iran has been the only foreign supporter of the Houthis, providing them with significant financial, humanitarian, and military aid, including advanced anti-tank missile systems and sophisticated ballistic missile technology.⁴⁰ This demonstrates that the very reason Houthis’ warfare with Saudi Arabia is made possible is because Iran arms the Houthis. Saudi Arabia and Iran need the Houthis to carry out their ideological warfare without disrupting their economies. On the other end, non-state actors such as the Houthis need patrons like Iran to sponsor their ideas for Yemen. Thus, the rivalry between Saudi Arabia and Iran does not manifest in direct military confrontation but is instead waged through influence over the fragile political systems of weaker states in the region, such as Yemen.⁴¹

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This proxy strategy reflects broader patterns of influence in the Middle East which had been characterized as the heir of the “Arab Cold War” of the 1950s and 1960s by Malcolm Kerr.⁴² Similar to this earlier period, the power of regional protagonists is measured by their ability to manipulate domestic political struggles in weaker states where local regimes struggle to maintain control. In this context, non-state actors like the Houthis are essential for advancing the agendas of patron states. This is also applicable to other fragile states such as Syria, where superpowers such as Iran and Saudi Arabia sway domestic politics their way. MENA states may therefore intervene in other states’ civil wars in order to carry out their ideological contests, specifically targeting fragile states already prone to influence.⁴³ 

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Conclusion

This paper concludes that while religion may constitute a factor for MENA states to intervene in one another’s civil wars—as seen with Saudi Arabia’s Operation Decisive Storm in 1962 preventing the rise of a secular republic in Yemen, the spread of secularism which drove Egypt to intervene in Yemen that same year, and Saudi Arabia’s intervention to stop Shia Houthi governance post-Arab Spring in 2015—it does not suffice to explain repeated interventions. This paper offers alternative reasons for MENA intervention, grounded in a realist perspective. It argues that the ultimate goal of states intervening is to attain power by assuming the role of regional hegemon, a position left vacant after decolonization. States torn by civil wars provide an opportunity for MENA states to install leadership with similar ideologies, thereby contributing to regional hegemony. This is evident in Nasser’s attempt to establish a secular Nasserist republic in 1962 Yemen, in contrast with Saudi Arabia’s effort to install a religious monarchy that would not challenge Nasser’s status quo and regional hegemony, particularly at its border. 

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Finally, this paper argues that without the interdependent relationship of patron states, client states, and non-state actors, interventions would not be necessary. This is demonstrated by the 2015 intervention in which Saudi Arabia and Iran used Yemen’s civil war as a non-economically disruptive means to confront one another ideologically. The Houthis needed Iran’s patronage to wage a civil war against the government of President Hadi and its allies, namely Saudi Arabia. Similarly, in the 1962 North Yemen Civil War, the USSR needed Egypt to succeed in installing a socialist secular republic; this is substantiated by their simple flow of aid to Egypt. 

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This paper’s larger purpose is to illuminate how MENA states may use religion and ideology as surface-level justifications to intervene in other MENA states’ civil wars, when essentially, they do this to maximize power. Their ultimate motivation is to achieve regional hegemony while also helping their patron states secure regional or even global dominance. This is evident in Egypt’s contribution to the USSR’s global influence during the Cold War. Similarly, Saudi Arabia’s fight against the Houthi takeover is not solely based on ideological disagreement with the Houthi-Iranian, anti-American, and anti-Western sentiment. It is also driven by Saudi Arabia’s ideological alignment with, and desire to promote, Western sentiment across the region, aiming to prevent global anti-Western sentiment from spreading out of Yemen.

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FOOTNOTES

1. Asher Orkaby, Beyond the Arab Cold War: The International History of the Yemen Civil War, 1962-68, (Oxford University Press, 2017), 179-180.
2.   Moosa Elayah et al., “National Dialogues as an Interruption of Civil War – the Case of Yemen,” Peacebuilding 8, no. 1 (2020): 98117, https://doi.org/10.1080/21647259.2018.1517964.
3.  Amadeus Marzai, “Nasser’s Ideology vs Practice: Postcolonial Critique of Egypt’s Yemen Intervention,” E-International Relations, July 7, 2023, https://www.e-ir.info/2023/07/07/nassers-ideology-vs-practice.
4.  Maysaa Shuja Al-Deen, “Federalism in Yemen: A Catalyst for War, the Present Reality, and the Inevitable Future,” Sana’a Center For Strategic Studies, February 28, 2019, https://sanaacenter.org/publications/analysis/7124.
5.  Aso M Ali, “Yemen (1962–1970): Failure by a Military Coup,” in State Failure, Power Expansion, and Balance of Power in the Middle East: The Struggle over Failed States (Cham: Springer Nature Switzerland, 2023), 67–93, https://doi.org/10.1007/9783031446337_3.
6.  Al-Deen, “Federalism in Yemen.” 
7. 8. 9. Elham Manea, “The Yemeni Civil War: the Arab Spring, State Formation and Internal Instability,” Middle Eastern Studies 61, no. 2 (2024): 319–20, https://doi.org/10.1080/00263206.2024.2437628.  

10.  Manea, “The Yemeni Civil War,” 122.
11. Afshon Ostovar, “Iran, Its Clients, and the Future of the Middle East: The Limits of Religion,” International Affairs (Royal Institute of International Affairs 1944-) 94, no. 6 (2018): 1237–56, https://www.jstor.org/stable/48587422.
12.  “The Proxy of My Proxy: Saudi Arabia vs. Egypt in North Yemen,” Association for Diplomatic Studies and Training, n.d., https://adst.org/2015/07/the-proxy-of-my-proxy-saudi-arabia-against-egypt-in-north-yemen/.
13.  Ariel Jahner, “Saudi Arabia and Iran: The Struggle for Power and Influence in the Gulf,” The International Affairs Review, n.d., https://www.iar-gwu.org/print-archive/l6vkmgjzj5sk9nsb56l3e8t9u3dnuu.
14.  Robert St. John, “Gamal Abdel Nasser | Biography & Facts,” in Encyclopædia Britannica, January 11, 2019, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Gamal-Abdel-Nasser.
15.  16. 17. Simon Mabon, The Struggle for Supremacy in the Middle East: Saudi Arabia and Iran (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2023),
16. ibid., 58.
17. ibid., 67.

18.  Mahjoob Zweiri and Majed AlAnsari, The 2017 Gulf Crisis : An Interdisciplinary Approach, (Singapore: Springer Singapore, 2021), 170, 231, https://doi.org/10.1007/9789811587351_14.
19.  F. Gregory Gause III, Beyond Sectarianism: The New Middle East Cold War (Brookings Doha Center, no. 11, July 2014), https://www.brookings.edu/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/English-PDF-1.pdf.
20.  May Darwich, “The Saudi Intervention in Yemen: Struggling for Status,” Insight Turkey 20, no. 2 (2018): 129, https://doi.org/10.25253/99.2018202.08.
21.  Mabon, The Struggle for Supremacy, 238.
22. ibid., 17.
23.  “The Proxy of My Proxy: Saudi Arabia vs. Egypt in North Yemen.” 
24. 25. 26. Darwich, “The Saudi Intervention,” 125-41.
25. 28.  Ostovar, Beyond the Arab Cold War, 1250.

29.  Samuel Helfont, “Post-Colonial States and the Struggle for Identity in the Middle East since World War Two,” Foreign Policy Research Institute, October 23, 2015, https://www.fpri.org/article/2015/10/post-colonial-states-and-the-struggle-for-identity.
30.  Marzai, “Nasser’s Ideology vs Practice.”
31.  Manea, “The Yemeni Civil War,” 122.
32.  Malcolm H. Kerr,  The Arab Cold War, 1958-1967: A Study of Ideology in Politics, 2nd ed. (London: Oxford University Press, 1967), 7.  
33.  Jesse Ferris, “Soviet Support for Egypt’s Intervention in Yemen,” Journal of Cold War Studies 10, no. 4 (2008): 71-72, https://doi.org/10.1162/jcws.2008.10.4.5.
34. ibid., 90.
35. ibid., 5.
36.  “Strait of Hormuz Factsheet,” International Energy Agency, n.d., https://iea.blob.core.windows.net/assets/203eb8eb-2147-4c99-af07-2d3804b8db3f/StraitofHormuzFactsheet.pdf.
37.  Jahner, “Saudi Arabia and Iran: The Struggle for Power and Influence in the Gulf.” 
38.  Mabon, The Struggle for Supremacy, 242.
39.  Jahner, “Saudi Arabia and Iran: The Struggle for Power and Influence in the Gulf.” 
40.  Ostovar, Beyond the Arab Cold War, 1249-1250.
41. 42. 43.  Gause, Beyond Sectarianism, 1. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Ali, Aso M, “Yemen (1962–1970): Failure by a Military Coup.” In State Failure, Power Expansion, and Balance of Power in the Middle East: The Struggle over Failed States, 67–93. Cham: Springer Nature Switzerland, 2023. https://doi.org/10.1007/9783031446337_3.

Association for Diplomatic Studies and Training. n.d. “The Proxy of My Proxy: Saudi Arabia vs. Egypt in North Yemen – Association for Diplomatic Studies & Training.” https://adst.org/2015/07/the-proxy-of-my-proxy-saudi-arabia-against-egypt-in-north-yemen/.

Darwich, May. “The Saudi Intervention in Yemen: Struggling for Status.” Insight Turkey 20, no. 2 (2018): 125–41. https://doi.org/10.25253/99.2018202.08.

Elayah, Moosa, Lau Schulpen, Van Kempen, Ahamad Almaweri, Blikis AbuOsba, and Bakeel Alzandani. “National Dialogues as an Interruption of Civil War – the Case of Yemen.” Peacebuilding 8, no. 1 (2020): 98117. https://doi.org/10.1080/21647259.2018.1517964.

Gause, F. Gregory, III. Beyond Sectarianism: The New Middle East Cold War. Brookings Doha Center, no. 11, July 2014. https://www.brookings.edu/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/English-PDF-1.pdf.

Ferris, Jesse. “Soviet Support for Egypt’s Intervention in Yemen, 1962-1963.” Journal of Cold War Studies 10, no. 4 (2008): 536. https://doi.org/10.1162/jcws.2008.10.4.5.

Jahner, Ariel. “Saudi Arabia and Iran: The Struggle for Power and Influence in the Gulf.” The International Affairs Review, n.d. https://www.iar-gwu.org/print-archive/l6vkmgjzj5sk9nsb56l3e8t9u3dnuu.

Kerr, Malcolm H. The Arab Cold War, 1958-1967: A Study of Ideology in Politics. 2nd ed. London: Oxford University Press, 1967. 

Mabon, Simon. The Struggle for Supremacy in the Middle East: Saudi Arabia and Iran. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2023. https://doi.org/10.1017/9781108603690.

Manea, Elham. “The Yemeni Civil War: the Arab Spring, State Formation and Internal Instability.” Middle Eastern Studies 61, no. 2 (2024): 319–20. https://doi.org/10.1080/00263206.2024.2437628

Marzai, Amadeus. “Nasser’s Ideology vs Practice: Postcolonial Critique of Egypt’s Yemen Intervention.” E-International Relations, July 7, 2023. https://www.e-ir.info/2023/07/07/nassers-ideology-vs-practice-postcolonial-critique-of-egypts-yemen-intervention/.

Orkaby, Asher. Beyond the Arab Cold War: The International History of the Yemen Civil War, 1962-68. Oxford University Press, 2017. https://doi.org/10.1093/acprof:oso/9780190618445.001.0001.

Ostovar, Afshon. “Iran, Its Clients, and the Future of the Middle East: The Limits of Religion.” International Affairs (Royal Institute of International Affairs 1944-) 94, no. 6 (2018): 1237–56. https://www.jstor.org/stable/48587422.

Robert St. John. “Gamal Abdel Nasser | Biography & Facts.” In Encyclopædia Britannica, January 11, 2019. https://www.britannica.com/biography/Gamal-Abdel-Nasser.

Helfont, Samuel. “Post-Colonial States and the Struggle for Identity in the Middle East since World War Two.” Foreign Policy Research Institute, October 23, 2015. https://www.fpri.org/article/2015/10/post-colonial-states-and-the-struggle-for-identity.

Al-Deen, Maysaa Shuja. “Federalism in Yemen: A Catalyst for War, the Present Reality, and the Inevitable Future.” Sana’a Center For Strategic Studies, February 28, 2019. https://sanaacenter.org/publications/analysis/7124.

“Strait of Hormuz Factsheet.” International Energy Agency, n.d. https://iea.blob.core.windows.net/assets/203eb8eb-2147-4c99-af07-2d3804b8db3f/StraitofHormuzFactsheet.pdf.

Zweiri, Mahjoob, and Majed AlAnsari. In The 2017 Gulf Crisis : An Interdisciplinary Approach, edited by Mahjoob Zweiri, Md Mizanur Rahman, and Arwa Kamal. Singapore: Springer Singapore, 2021. https://doi.org/10.1007/9789811587351_14.

Consistently throughout history, Western superpowers have justified their political and military interventions across the Middle East through the promise of democratic salvation. Western invasions in Middle Eastern domestic politics have long been framed as a moral imperative to rescue the region from authoritarian rule. However, a striking paradox emerges when these efforts are examined historically: projects so boldly advertised as missions in the pursuit of liberal democracy consistently produced opposite, authoritarian outcomes. As seen in Iran in 1953, Iraq in 2003, and Libya in 2011, Western-led interventions that professed to have liberated nations from authoritarian governance instead entrenched instability, empowered coercive actors, and fractured the foundations necessary for democratic development. The very strategies enacted under the disguise of democratic liberation were the catalysts of failure in post-intervention regime development.¹

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For the purpose of this essay, “Western interventions” will be understood as the political actions and military operations, whether directly or covertly, taken by Western powers—the United States (US) and the United Kingdom (UK), in particular—with the proclaimed intention to shape, or establish supposedly better governance in the Middle East. “Liberal democracy” will refer to a regime type grounded in accountable institutions, entrenched civil liberties, and the rule of law, and “authoritarian regime” as its inverse: centralized authority, restricted civil and political rights, and lack of institutional accountability.

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This essay argues that Western interventions in the Middle East, illustrated in the cases of Iran, Iraq, and Libya, ultimately subverted the very democratic objectives they claimed to advance by actively facilitating the consolidation of authoritarian governance. To demonstrate this pattern, the essay will employ a self-constructed evaluative framework, designed to assess the effectiveness of each intervention in producing liberal-democratic outcomes. The three criteria are, first, the establishment of functioning democratic institutions, second, the protection of civil and political liberties, and third, the achievement of political stability under the rule of law. Across all three case studies, Western intervention consistently undermined institutional development, eroded fundamental freedoms, and cultivated chronic instability, revealing the troubling paradox at the heart of the West’s democratic ambitions in the Middle East.²

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Evaluative Framework: Measuring Liberal Democracy in Post-Intervention Regimes 

To credibly assess whether a regime qualifies as a liberal democracy, it is crucial to evaluate factors beyond solely the occurrence of elections: insight into the profound structural underpinnings of democratic governance is crucial. In this essay, the extent of liberal democracy in Middle Eastern regimes following Western intervention will be measured by examining three prominent indicators: development of democratic institutions, protection of civil and political liberties, and enforcement of the rule of law as political stability, understood in this essay as the accountability of the executive under its own legal framework, thus gauging the success of each case.

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The important role that institutions play in measuring liberal democracy is strongly enforced by scholars of the Varieties of Democracy (V‑Dem) Project, in their 2025 “Democracy Report.”³ V-Dem highlights the critical role of democratic structures such as transparent elections and functioning political parties, but also of “horizontal” mechanisms of institutional accountability, such as judicial and legislative limitations on the authority of the executive, and the absence of military rule, in defining genuine liberal democracy. This focus is further emphasized in V‑Dem’s “Liberal Component Index” (LCI), which explicitly measures these institutional features under the premise that unconstrained executive power can easily overpower democratic norms.⁴ Evaluating state institutions provides a crucial lens into the organization, structure and, crucially, constraints on executive power, highlighting a fundamental component of liberal democratic governance. 

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Political and civil rights, such as freedom of belief, expression, and association, are defining characteristics of an authentic liberal democratic order, as argued by scholars of Freedom House in their “Freedom in the World” report.⁵ The report extensively addresses the real-world application of political and civil liberties beyond theoretical frameworks. Freedom House emphasizes the limits of mere legal guarantees of political and civil rights in assessing levels of democracy; liberties that uniquely exist nominally are insufficient to determine democratic governance.⁶ Similarly, V-Dem employs this ideology in their “Political and Civil Liberties Index”, marking the implementation of freedom of expression and association in particular as core indicators of liberal democracy.⁷ These liberties are the vessels by which domestic populations can hold governments accountable and engage in civil participation; they are the foundations of liberal democratic regimes. 

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Political stability, which is to be understood as consistent, orderly governance that is legitimized among its domestic population, is arguably the most notable indicator of successful liberal democracy. It is most reliably achieved and measured through the enforcement of the rule of law. Entrenched legal frameworks limiting the authority of the executive ensure consistent governance with fewer abuses of power, as argued by V-Dem scholars.⁸ Their LCI illustrates an indisputably strong correlation between weak or unenforced rule of law and political volatility, civil unrest, and undemocratic political landscapes.⁹ Evaluating the enforcement of accountable legal frameworks is a true indicator of the capacity of a regime to maintain political stability: a central pillar of liberal democracy.

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The 1953 US and UK-backed Coup d’État in Iran‍

The covert actions of the Western powers behind the 1953 coup d’état in Iran established a fundamental precedent for their conduct in Middle Eastern domestic politics: entrenching their own power in the international system by dismantling democracy and fostering authoritarian legacies to follow. Mohammad Mossadegh, who served as Iran’s democratically elected Prime Minister from 1951-1953, pursued a political trajectory intending to reclaim national sovereignty, most notably through his initiative to nationalize Iranian oil resources and release them from foreign control.¹⁰

Mossadegh sought to redirect the country’s resources towards domestic development rather than foreign profit. This was a key source of his deeply rooted popular domestic legitimacy, and also what led Western powers to perceive him as a destabilizing threat to their hegemony, needing in their logic to be eliminated.¹¹ As the majority shareholder in the Anglo-Persian Oil Company (APOC), its most lucrative foreign asset, the UK felt existential pressure not only on its economic state, but its pedestal in the broader geopolitical order. Iranian defiance could inspire similar nationalist movements across the Middle East, ultimately undermining Western hegemony in the international system.¹²

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In a CIA-backed coup, Operation AJAX, the US and UK joined forces, not just simply to recover influence, but to assert full dominance over Iran’s oil and ultimate political direction, in an overthrow strategically designed within a Cold War context. Propaganda campaigns depicting Mossadegh as a covert communist ally, combined with calculated media infiltration and manufactured civil unrest, formed the core strategies of the West to tarnish Mossadegh’s domestic “incorruptible image.”¹³ These efforts were framed by the broader narrative that his removal served in the interest of the global defence of democracy and protection from Soviet infiltration, even as this intervention permanently dismantled Iran’s democratic order.¹⁴ The West’s strategy was therefore not solely about Mossadegh’s assassination, but about nullifying any possibility of the Iranian public advancing nationalist aspirations that impeded Western geopolitical interests, regardless of repercussions on democracy and regime stability.¹⁵

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Following the success of the coup, the West’s professed aims for shaping governance in Iran explicitly shifted from supporting liberal democracy to blatant facilitation of autocracy. This new position was solidified by US ambassador Loy Henderson’s brazen statement that the United States will back “an undemocratic independent Iran” rather than risk elections that might return nationalist forces to power.¹⁶ 

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Post-Intervention Regime Assessment: Iran

Western interference in Mossadegh’s democratically-elected regime effectively eliminated any prospect for sustainable democratic institutions in Iran. The US and UK deliberately installed an authoritarian regime following the coup to serve their geopolitical interests, the monarchy of Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi.¹⁷ The installation of the regime inflicted irreparable damage on an otherwise consistent and resilient democratic system by eliminating the structures and institutions necessary for liberal democracy as they are defined in the V-Dem framework.¹⁸

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The Western-installed Pahlavi dynasty consolidated repressive authoritarian governance, abolishing pre-existing democratic institutions entirely. The royal dictatorship was built upon unconstrained executive power, and persistently undermined the will of its people with the Shah as its figurehead: the gatekeeper of ultimate authority and political stability in the nation.¹⁹ Infinite centralized power in the hands of the executive is in direct violation of the criteria for democracy outlined in the V-Dem Report and LCI. Mossadegh, who was elected through a well-functioning democratic infrastructure and sustained by profound domestic legitimacy, championed both democracy and national independence. It is for this reason that he was recognized as the “embodiment of Iran’s constitutional movement.”²⁰ The nation could have developed a legacy of continued, consolidated democracy, had it not been for the geopolitically greedy, covert operations of the West.

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As emphasized in both Freedom House and V-Dem Reports, liberties must be implemented “in practice, not solely on paper,” to enable citizens to hold the government accountable and participate in civil life.²¹ As a newly formed security state, Iran’s authoritarian Pahlavi regime operated an extensive secret police and intelligence apparatus, the SAVAK, designed to crush civilian dissent. The SAVAK was weaponized as a “brutal tool to monitor and crush opposition” and “effectively and mercilessly restricted all forms of internal opposition,” demonstrating the sheer nonexistence of political and civil liberties at both nominal and on-ground levels.²²

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A core requirement of liberal democracy, as outlined by the V-Dem LCI, entrenched legal frameworks limiting the authority of the executive, was systematically violated by the Shah’s regime. The rule of law was persistently violated, as illustrated by the shift in policy agenda to fit the “personal direction of the monarch;” the rule of law was dominated by royal prerogative and military control under the Shah, deliberately repressing any opportunity for democratic re-emergence.²³ Additionally, the Shah lacked substantive domestic legitimacy, as the regime was widely perceived as a puppet of the West, operating in violation of the Iranians’ sovereign interests. Therefore, his political survival depended entirely on external forces, revealing the fragility of Iran’s political state under his authority.²⁴

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The 2003 American Invasion of Iraq

Described as “one of the biggest foreign policy blunders of the Cold War era,” the 2003 US-led invasion of Iraq directly implemented prolonged repression and instability post-Saddam Hussein’s regime.²⁵ The invasion and occupation to follow were presented by American officials as a campaign to dismantle Hussein’s dictatorship with the objective of global democratic advancement, yet grounded in the misguided belief that Iraqis would simply yearn for democracy conducted by the leaders of the freedom agenda once the regime was toppled. It is indisputable that, despite professed objectives for liberal democratization, the US rendered Iraq a “weak state with a highly fragmented security system.”²⁶

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One of the US’ most consequential miscalculations was operating under the assumption that Iraq would simply be a political “blank slate” after the fall of Hussein’s dictatorship, overlooking the deeply embedded dynamics of ethnic and sectarian identity politics that fundamentally shaped the Iraqi political landscape and capacity to adopt a new regime.²⁷ Addressing conflicts with the Iraqi Kurdish population and tensions between Sunni and Shia sectarian groups should have at least been considered, if not fully resolved, before attempting to establish a new system of governance in Iraq. The US overlooked this entirely, attempting to build a completely new political system on a fractured foundation, which they only exacerbated by failing to confront these underlying divisions. 

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Additionally, US counterinsurgency strategies were fundamentally flawed, causing extensive collateral damage and the detention of innocent local citizens. The US approach fueled intense resentment and anger among the Iraqi population, crucially undermining any chance at establishing domestic legitimacy: an essential prerequisite to the adoption of a new regime, especially one so radically different from its predecessor. The cost of these failed strategies and colossal miscalculations was the collapse of the sovereign, stable, and self-reliant state that the U.S. proclaimed their invasion would ultimately create, and the legacy of instability, authoritarianism, extremism and violence that continues to tarnish Iraq’s political landscape today.²⁸

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Post-Intervention Regime Assessment: Iraq

The outcomes of the 2003 U.S. invasion and occupation of Iraq do not fulfill the criteria for genuine liberal democracy as defined by the V-Dem project’s methodology, particularly concerning the Liberal Component Index (LCI).²⁹ The post-invasion state-building project, which aimed for an Iraq that was “sovereign, stable, and self-reliant,” produced a chronically weak and dysfunctional state that failed to establish effective democratic institutions, constrain executive power, or uphold the rule of law.³⁰ As direct evidence, the 2024 LCI report places Iraq’s score at 0.28 (on a scale where 0 is the least liberal and 1 is the most), ranking it alongside other regions categorized as having low institutional liberalism.³¹ In parallel, Freedom House rates Iraq in its 2025 report as “Not Free” (31/100).³² 

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While Iraq began holding regular, competitive elections after 2003, democratic governance remains impeded in practice. The democratic structures were immediately subverted by the underlying conflicts for dominance, which the US neglected throughout the period of its invasion and, in turn, intensified, as competitions for group dominance instrumentalized democratic institutions as weapons to advance exclusionary goals.³³

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The fundamental lack of public acceptance of the American invading and occupying ​​forces, and by extension, the regime, provoked limitless resistance and political instability, fuelling the rise in extremist groups. The US’s misguided counterinsurgency efforts gave rise to extreme violence and state collapse; blame for the rise of the Islamic State (ISIS) can be directly attributed to the United States’ rash conduct and would have arguably never emerged had the US not intervened.³⁴ The intervention led to a situation in which non-state armed actors “captured or merged with parts of the state,” resulting in deliberate political authoritarianism under a system lacking legitimacy at its grassroots.³⁵

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The 2011 NATO Intervention in Libya‍

The North Atlantic Treaty Organization’s (NATO) military intervention in Libya was framed using democratic and humanitarian language, with the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) doctrine at its forefront, amidst the removal of the Qaddafi dictatorship regime. However, underlying Western geopolitical interests, colonial assumptions, and the negligent approach of prioritizing speed and risk aversion directly generated further political instability and entrenchment of authoritarian dynamics.³⁶ The R2P doctrine embodies a “paternalistic model of state power and political authority” in which “political representation is eliminated by security.”³⁷

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Illustrated by the case of Libya and repeatedly across the Middle East and North Africa, this approach inherently delegitimizes existing domestic political structures and societal realities. It forcibly imposes Western liberal democratic frameworks through intense coercive, bloodshedding means, and, instead, fertilizes authoritarian foundations. The distinctive “rapidity and casualness” of conduct towards the Qaddafi regime illustrates the grave shift in Western strategy from containment to radically violent overthrow, inflicting irreparable damage in Libya and beyond: the broader framework of international foreign policy norms.³⁸ This recklessness sparked further widespread civil polarization and instability in the wake of the Arab Spring in Libya, leading to prolonged conflict and violence rather than stable, democratic outcomes. It is for this reason that the state of affairs in post-intervention Libya is classified as a “collapsed state,” plagued by persistent internal conflict.³⁹

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Post-Intervention Regime Assessment: Libya

The state of affairs in post-intervention Libya remains incredibly fragile, characterized by intensified competition for space, resources, and survival. Although Libya experienced some democratic institutional structures after the intervention, as its 2012 general elections were considered free and fair, this was extremely short-lived. By 2014 and still to this day, Libya has been engulfed in civil war between two rival governments, and new elections have been repeatedly postponed with no expectation of being held anytime soon.⁴⁰ Additionally, Freedom House, in its 2025 Report, ranked Libya as “Not Free” with a score of 10/100.⁴¹

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The NATO intervention and Qaddafi’s violent overthrow left behind a hollow state, with barely functioning administrative and governing institutions: the post-Qaddafi regime struggled with immense apprehension about its basic domestic legitimacy for governance. NATO’s negligent approach of “virtuous war” emphasizing speed and “no boots on the ground” was fundamental to the colossal collateral damage they inflicted, leaving the country in a “chaotic and dangerous postwar environment” produced by Western superpowers.⁴²

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Conclusion

To conclude, as illustrated in Iran in 1953, Iraq in 2003, and Libya in 2011, Western interventions in the Middle East have systematically failed to produce liberal-democratic outcomes, instead entrenching authoritarianism, instability, and long-term political fragmentation. Using the evaluative framework developed in this essay, examining the criteria of democratic institutions, civil and political liberties, political stability through the rule of law, patterns of Western powers prioritizing geopolitical interests, risk-averse military strategies, and ideological assumptions over the structural and societal foundations required for democratization throughout their missions in the Middle East, have been revealed as catalysts for authoritarian consolidation.

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In the case of Iran, the 1953 coup dismantled a well-entrenched democratic order to install an authoritarian, royal dictatorship that eliminated democratic institutions, stripped all political and civil liberties, and abolished the rule of law; it not only destroyed Iran’s democratic trajectory but also entrenched a legacy of political repression and instability that would shape decades of unrest. Similarly, the case of the Iraq invasion illustrates how neglecting structural realities, such as sectarian divisions, the need for legitimate governance, and institutional accountability, produced a chronically weak state incapable of constraining authoritarian behaviours. The United States’ failure to anticipate or address the complexities of Iraqi society fostered institutional collapse, widespread violence, and the rise of extremist groups, fundamentally contradicting its professed democratic aims. Finally, the Libyan case represents the most extreme collapse: a rapid, militarized intervention justified under humanitarian rhetoric that only generated a fragmented state without coherent institutions, protection of liberties, or enforceable law. The country’s ongoing civil war and political vacuum stand as stark evidence of the long-term destabilizing consequences of NATO’s strategy.

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Ultimately, this analysis reveals a fundamental paradox between Western rhetoric about global liberal democratization and its outcomes; Western interventions in the Middle East invoked the language of democracy while employing strategies that were structurally incompatible with democratic outcomes. By subverting the development of effective democratic institutions, the abolition of civil liberties, and the destabilization of political order through lack of rule of law, these interventions not only failed in their stated objectives but also contributed to long-term authoritarian entrenchment and regional insecurity. The cases of Iran, Iraq, and Libya, therefore, illustrate the colossally destructive consequences of Western interventions, that continuously demonstrate a prioritization of self-interested geopolitical aims over genuine democratic empowerment.

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FOOTNOTES

1. Phillip Cunliffe, Cosmopolitan Dystopia: International Intervention and the Failure of the West (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2020): p.10
2. Roger D. Petersen, Death, Dominance, and State-Building (Oxford University Press, 2024): p.4
3. Marina Nord et al., Democracy Report 2025: 25 Years of Autocratization – Democracy Trumped? (Gothenburg: V-Dem Institute, University of Gothenburg, 2025). 
4. V-Dem Institute, “Liberal Political Institutions Index, 2024.” Distributed by Our World in Data. 2025, https://archive.ourworldindata.org/20260119-070102/grapher/liberal-political-institutions-index.html.
5. Yana Gorokhovskaia and Cathryn Grothe, “The Uphill Battle to Safeguard Rights: Freedom in the World 2025,” Freedom House, 2025, https://freedomhouse.org/report/freedom-world/2025/uphill-battle-to-safeguard-rights.
6. Gorokhovskaia and Grothe, “The Uphill Battle.”
7. V-Dem Institute, “Liberal Political Institutions Index.”
8. V-Dem Institute, “Liberal Political Institutions Index.”
9. V-Dem Institute, “Liberal Political Institutions Index.”
10. Ervand Abrahamian, “The 1953 Coup in Iran,” Science & Society 65, no. 2 (2001): 182–215, http://www.jstor.org/stable/40403895.
11. Fawaz A. Gerges, The Great Betrayal: The Struggle for Freedom and Democracy in the Middle East, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2025) p.47
12. Abrahamian, “The 1953 Coup in Iran,” 182–215.
13. Abrahamian, “The 1953 Coup in Iran,” 182–215.
14. Gerges, The Great Betrayal. p.5
15. Abrahamian, “The 1953 Coup in Iran,” 182–215.
16. David R. Collier, Democracy and the Nature of American Influence in Iran, 1941-1979, (Syracuse University Press, 2017): p.168
17. Abrahamian, “The 1953 Coup in Iran,” 182–215.
18. V-Dem Institute, “Liberal Political Institutions Index.”
19. Collier, Democracy and the Nature of American Influence. p.71
20. Collier, Democracy and the Nature of American Influence. p.58
21. Gorokhovskaia and Grothe, “The Uphill Battle.”
22. Collier, Democracy and the Nature of American Influence. p.167
23. Collier, Democracy and the Nature of American Influence. p.176
24. Gerges, The Great Betrayal. p.14
25. Petersen, Death, Dominance, and State-Building: p.4
26. Petersen, Death, Dominance, and State-Building: p.4
27. Petersen, Death, Dominance, and State-Building: p.16
28. David Beetham, “The Contradictions of Democratization by Force: The Case of Iraq,” Democratization 16, no. 3 (2009): 443–54, https://doi.org/10.1080/13510340902914338.
29. V-Dem Institute, “Liberal Political Institutions Index.”
30. Petersen, Death, Dominance, and State-Building: p.4
31. V-Dem Institute, “Liberal Political Institutions Index.”
32. Gorokhovskaia and Grothe, “The Uphill Battle.”
33.  Petersen, Death, Dominance, and State-Building: p. 214
34.  Beetham, “The Contradictions of Democratization by Force.” 443–54
35.  Beetham, “The Contradictions of Democratization by Force.” 443–54
36.  Susannah O’Sullivan, Military Intervention in the Middle East and Africa: The Case of NATO in Libya (Routledge, 2018).  p.113
37.  Cunliffe, Cosmopolitan Dystopia: p.160, 53
38.  Cunliffe, Cosmopolitan Dystopia: p.100
39.  Gerges, The Great Betrayal. p.4
40.  Nord et al., Democracy Report.
41.  Gorokhovskaia and Grothe, “The Uphill Battle.”
42.  Christopher S. Chivvis, Toppling Qaddafi: Libya and the Limits of Liberal Intervention (Cambridge University Press, 2013) p.183

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Abrahamian, Ervand. “The 1953 Coup in Iran.” Science & Society 65, no. 2 (2001): 182–215. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40403895.

Beetham, David. “The Contradictions of Democratization by Force: The Case of Iraq.” Democratization 16, no. 3 (2009): 443–54, https://doi.org/10.1080/13510340902914338.

Collier, David R. Democracy and the Nature of American Influence in Iran, 1941–1979. Syracuse University Press, 2017.

Chivvis, Christopher S. Toppling Qaddafi: Libya and the Limits of Liberal Intervention. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013.

Cunliffe, Phillip. Cosmopolitan Dystopia: International Intervention and the Failure of the West. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2020.

Gorokhovskaia, Yana and Cathryn Grothe. “The Uphill Battle to Safeguard Rights: Freedom in the World 2025.” Freedom House, 2025, https://freedomhouse.org/report/freedom-world/2025/uphill-battle-to-safeguard-rights.

Gerges, Fawaz A. The Great Betrayal: The Struggle for Freedom and Democracy in the Middle East. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2025. 

O’Sullivan, Susannah. Military Intervention in the Middle East and Africa: The Case of NATO in Libya. Routledge, 2018.

Petersen, Roger D. Death, Dominance, and State-Building. Oxford University Press, April 2, 2024. 

Nord, Marina, David Altman, Fabio Angiolillo, Tiago Fernandes, Ana Good God, and Staffan I. Lindberg. Democracy Report 2025: 25 Years of Autocratization – Democracy Trumped? Gothenburg: V-Dem Institute, University of Gothenburg, 2025. 

V-Dem Institute. “Liberal Political Institutions Index, 2024.” Distributed by Our World in Data. 2025. https://archive.ourworldindata.org/20260119-070102/grapher/liberal-political-institutions-index.html.

Introduction

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Born from the same imperial reordering of the Middle East, Jordan and Egypt have since embodied two contrasting models of postcolonial governance, one defined by monarchical continuity and the other by revolutionary upheaval and military dominance. After World War I, the Middle East experienced a major transformation as a result of the collapse of the Ottoman Empire. The Treaty of Sèvres, formalized at the San Remo Conference, was a significant document that outlined the partition of the states that fell under the Ottoman Empire and was signed in 1920, redistributing Middle Eastern and North African (MENA) territories among Western powers.[1] This division of territories led to the establishment of British mandates over Jordan, then known as Transjordan, as well as Egypt, shaping their political structures and the institutional foundation of their systems. Jordan has maintained a semblance of regime stability through centralized monarchical authority, strategic patronage networks, and calibrated political reform, whereas Egypt still grapples with persistent conflicts, including civil uprisings, and experiences with both political and economic fragmentation. Thus, the question arises: why have Jordan and Egypt followed such divergent post-independence political trajectories, with Jordan maintaining relative stability and Egypt continuing to experience conflict and fragmentation? The contrast lies in the differing nature of their governing authority, the degree of military influence on the state, and the management of socio-economic conditions, as Egypt’s strong military and volatile economic structure have undermined political cohesion, while Jordan’s monarchy has sustained stability through controlled power-sharing and adaptive economic strategies.

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Type of Governing Power: Monarchy vs Republic Governments

A notable difference between Jordan and Egypt lies in their form of government, with one state being a monarchy, and the other a republic. The contrast between their political systems highlights how the states developed in different ways, paving the way for stability or instability within each nation. The Jordanian monarchy’s history dates back to the British establishment of the Emirate of Transjordan in 1921, when Abdullah I was given the title of Emir, marking the beginning of the monarchy’s lineage.[2]

When Transjordan gained independence from British colonial rule in 1946, it became known as the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. There was no revolutionary action that led to this development. Understanding this historical background is essential in comprehending the foundations of the Jordanian monarchy.

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Egypt, on the other hand, became a republic through revolutionary action, seeing as the state’s monarchy was overthrown as a result of the Revolution in 1952.[3] Although Egypt formally gained independence in 1922, British influence persisted, making the 1952 Revolution the decisive break from colonial rule. The revolutionary movement was driven by discontent and national desire to address the challenges faced by the general population, which ended up shaping Egypt’s political system. The revolution was described as “a national [movement] against an incompetent monarch and a parliament that had failed to end British rule and brought immiseration to the countryside.”[4] The clear and apparent recurring discontentment with the Egyptian political and governance system continues to make the state weaker and more vulnerable to transnational as well as international criticism.

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On the other hand, monarchies tend to resist uprisings and revolutionary movements. Because dynastic systems concentrate authority and institutionalize succession, they provide greater continuity in leadership and foreign policy. This continuity makes monarchies, such as Jordan, appear more predictable and strategically reliable to great powers like the United States, increasing the likelihood of sustained diplomatic and security support.[5] Such external backing reinforces regime security and deters external threats. In contrast, republics that experience leadership turnover through revolutionary mobilization may generate uncertainty in foreign policy direction. Egypt’s recurring political transitions have contributed to periodic shifts in governance and external alignment, reducing its predictability as an international partner.[6] These differences in institutional stability and external perception contribute to divergent levels of regime durability.

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The differences between Jordan’s monarchy and Egypt’s republic show how a country’s type of government can affect its stability through relations with other countries and the ability to handle obstacles. Jordan’s monarchy provides a steady government and strong international relationships, which help the country stay stable. On the other hand, Egypt’s republic often struggles with stability because its leaders and policies frequently change due to constant revolutionary action. The governance type in both Jordan and Egypt has a significant impact on both national and international dynamics.

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Level of Military Influence and Power Within The State

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It is extremely important to note that while the 1952 Egyptian Revolution brought about the end of the monarchy, it also brought forth a new era of military rule. Military control within the state has affected Egypt’s political stability, highlighting issues of political repression and limited democratic development. The revolution was led by the Free Officers Movement, a group of junior officers within the Egyptian army who, motivated by a combination of nationalism, anti-colonialism, and a desire for social and political reform, overthrew the monarchic government with a coup. Most citizens supported the coup against the monarchy, as many were against the foreign British influence on the Egyptian state and believed the Free Officers would address their socio-economic concerns.[7] The 1952 Revolution set Egypt on a path-dependent trajectory, as the early consolidation of military authority shaped the country’s political development for decades to follow. By establishing a republic under military control, the new regime embedded the armed forces at the center of decision-making and policy formulation, a position that continues to influence Egypt’s political discourse to this day. Although Egypt’s military is hierarchical and centralized, it struggles to effectively manage the complexities of modern state governance and often lacks the ability to negotiate and compromise, making the state politically unstable.[8]

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On the contrary, the military has notably less influence and power in Jordan. Executive authority in Jordan remains centralized in the monarch, who governs alongside a limited advisory circle who “have access to the monarch and can influence critical decisions to be taken.”[9] The Jordanian military, known as the Jordanian Armed Forces (JAF), has never directly taken power through a coup, does not have an official role in governance, and the monarchy has remained the paramount authority for decades.[10] The Jordanian military’s recruitment strategy has significantly shaped national identity and expressions of nationalism, as it recruits disproportionately from tribal, rural, and East Jordanian communities, groups that have historically formed the monarchy’s core base of support.[11] This recruitment strategy intertwines military service with regime loyalty, reinforcing a national identity closely aligned with tribal affiliation and dynastic continuity. Rather than allowing the military to emerge as an autonomous political actor, the monarchy embeds it within a broader system of patronage and ethnonational legitimacy. As a result, the armed forces function as a stabilizing pillar of the regime rather than a competing center of power. Another reason the Jordanian military does not overtly engage in governance or coups is because the King of Jordan maintains a relationship with the military, paying them regular visits and thanking them personally. Additionally, the King is the Supreme Commander of the armed forces, which forces a sense of loyalty to the monarchy upon those serving. This loyalty is a significant source of power for the monarchy, as it secures the military’s support in maintaining order and protecting the current ongoing structure of governance.

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By comparing military influence in Egypt and Jordan, it becomes clear that armed forces can decisively shape a state’s political development. In Egypt, military-led governance has constrained democratic growth and entrenched authoritarian dominance. In contrast, Jordan’s more contained arrangement keeps the military supportive of the regime without allowing it to dominate decision-making. These contrasting cases illustrate how the degree of military autonomy within the state can either destabilize political institutions or reinforce regime continuity.

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Socio-Economic Factors and Revolutions

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Socio-economic factors contribute greatly to the likelihood of revolutionary action and impact a state’s stability. Following Egypt’s 1952 Revolution, protests continued to emerge over the decades, particularly as the military consolidated itself as a central governing force. This pattern did not end in 2011, even after the initial success of the Arab Spring uprising. Large numbers of Egyptians returned to the streets, expressing dissatisfaction with the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces and later political leadership. The recurrence of protests suggests that revolutionary momentum did not translate into structural stability. A commentary article that was released in 2011 summarizes Egypt’s revolution cycle briefly: “…Egypt’s new normal. Protesters protest. The regime grants concessions. Protesters protest again. And so on.”[12] The revolutionary attempts to democratize Egypt have only led to temporary solutions and, consequently, more discontentment. Charles Tilly argues that processes of democracy can emerge from “categorical inequalities,” which are social categories of identification and distinctions between different citizens among a nation.[13] These categorical inequalities shape democratic trajectories by structuring who has access to power and resources, and Egypt demonstrates this dynamic through its deep socio-economic disparities. The Egyptian government tried to enhance the state’s economic activities by implementing policies aimed at redistributing wealth, reducing inequalities, and providing a wide array of public services and subsidies to the population.[14]

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However, from the late 20th century onwards, Egypt, like many other developing countries, began to implement the reforms encouraged by international financial institutions (IFIs). While these reforms were intended to improve economic efficiency and competitiveness, their consequences on the nation have been adverse. The government reduced spending on essential services such as education, healthcare, and infrastructure, directly undermining access, quality, and overall living conditions, particularly for lower-income populations. IFI-backed reforms in Egypt contributed to rising unemployment, declining public services, and widening economic inequality, intensifying public dissatisfaction with the regime. According to a 2024 Al-Jazeera report, “since January 2022, the Egyptian pound has lost around 50 percent of its value against the US dollar,” and “nearly 30 percent of Egyptians live in poverty.”[15] This inequality and dissatisfaction within the Egyptian population are one of the main drivers of revolution. In fact, the implementation of IFIs is referenced as one of the core causes of uprisings in Egypt, such as the Arab Spring.[16]

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The Arab Spring highlighted the distinction between Egypt’s republic and Jordan’s monarchy, as Egypt experienced regime rupture while Jordan proved less susceptible to revolutionary waves. Although Jordan faced significant economic grievances, including official unemployment rates of 11.4 percent and unofficial estimates closer to 22 percent prior to the uprisings, protest demands did not escalate into calls for regime overthrow.[17] This stability partly stemmed from the monarchy’s avoidance of revolutionary nationalism. By responding to unrest through limited reform and controlled political concessions rather than allowing opposition movements to escalate into demands for regime overthrow, the regime preserved its authority and maintained continuity. In contrast, many republics, including Egypt, were shaped by revolutionary nationalism at their founding, which embedded regime legitimacy in rupture and made political systems more vulnerable to future cycles of mobilization and instability.[18] A key distinction between the Arab Spring protests in Jordan and Egypt was exemplified by the stance of Hamzah Mansur, secretary-general of the Islamic Action Front (IAF), the political arm of the Muslim Brotherhood, who emphasized that while Egyptian demonstrators sought the removal of President Mubarak, Jordanian protesters, including himself, demanded only electoral reform and greater economic equality.[19] As a result, despite widespread unrest, Jordan remained relatively stable, with the monarchy responding through government reshuffling and controlled concessions rather than complete regime change. Jordan embarked on a path of democratization but ensured that it was limited.[20] The nation implemented controlled measures such as the opening of the Lower Chamber parliament seats to elections and creating avenues for greater citizen participation without putting the monarchy at complete risk. The Jordanian monarchy fulfilled the demands of the protestors in a restricted manner, maintaining stability within the state and fostering a sense of national unity.[21] On the other hand, Egypt’s authoritarian leaders entrenched a culture of corruption and repression, which could only be dismantled through complete regime change. This type of regime change was often abrupt, leading to more political instability.

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The comparison between Jordan and Egypt’s revolutionary trajectories highlights the structural differences that shape national stability. Despite the need for more inclusive socio-economic policies in both countries, the Jordanian monarchy has addressed deep-seated inequalities through limited, state-managed reforms that preserve regime continuity. In contrast, Egypt’s governing institutions have historically failed to institutionalize public grievances within durable political frameworks, contributing to recurring cycles of protest and regime destabilization.

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Conclusion

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To conclude, by examining the divergent paths of Jordan and Egypt post-independence, it becomes evident that governance structures, military influence, and socio-economic factors significantly impact Jordan and Egypt’s political stability. Jordan’s monarchy has maintained continuity and managed unrest through a controlled balance between political authority, limited military influence, and gradual reforms. Egypt, meanwhile, has faced recurring instability as military dominance in politics and unresolved socio-economic inequalities continue to fuel public frustration and cycles of protest. These differences extend beyond a simple comparison of two states, demonstrating how foundational choices about political institutions, civil-military relations, and economic governance can set post-colonial nations on markedly different long-term trajectories. While both countries emerged from colonial rule, their differing experiences highlight the challenges and opportunities faced by post-colonial states in navigating the path to stability and political evolution. These contrasts ultimately raise a broader question: which foundational institutional choices enable durable stability, and which embed instability into the very structure of the state?

‍

BIBLIOGRAPHY

[14], [16] Achcar, Gilbert. “On the ‘Arab Inequality Puzzle’: The Case of Egypt.” Development and Change 51 (2020): 746–770. https://doi.org/10.1111/dech.12585.

[9] Barré, Géraldine, and Luigi Masciulli. “Jordan: The Survival of the Monarchy.” In Political Regimes in the Arab World, 27. 1st ed. London: Routledge, 2012. https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203102626-17.

[15] “Egypt Strikes Expanded $8bn Deal With the IMF.” Al Jazeera. March 6, 2024. https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2024/3/6/egypt-strikes-expanded-8-billion-deal-with-the-imf.

[3], [4], [7], [8] Ketchley, Neil, and Gilad Wenig. “Purging to Transform the Post-Colonial State: Evidence from the 1952 Egyptian Revolution.” Comparative Political Studies 58, no. 1 (2023): 3–42. https://doi.org/10.1177/00104140231209966.

[17], [19], [20], [21] Köprülü, Nur. “Consolidated Monarchies in the Post–‘Arab Spring’ Era: The Case of Jordan.” Israel Affairs 20, no. 3 (2014): 318–27. https://doi.org/10.1080/13537121.2014.922803.

[12] Plumbly, Samuel, and Shadi Hamid. “Egypt to Remain Military State.” Brookings. July 14, 2011. https://www.brookings.edu/articles/egypt-to-remain-military-state/.

[1], [2] Provence, Michael. “The Theory and Practice of Colonialism in the Post-Ottoman Middle East.” In The Cambridge History of the Modern Middle East, 56–100. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017. https://doi.org/10.1017/9781139049221.005.

[10], [11] Ryan, Curtis R. “Jordan: The Military and Politics in the Hashemite Kingdom.” Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Politics. October 27, 2020. https://oxfordre.com/politics/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780190228637.001.0001/acrefore-9780190228637-e-1945.

[5], [6], [18] Snyder, Robert S. “The Arab Uprising and the Persistence of Monarchy.” International Affairs (Royal Institute of International Affairs 1944-) 91, no. 5 (2015): 1027–45. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24539017.

[13] Tilly, Charles. “Trust and Rule.” Theory and Society 33, no. 1 (2004): 1–30. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4144889.

I. Introduction

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In 1947 the Union of South Africa voted in favour of the creation of the State of Israel, endorsing the UN Partition Plan to mandate Palestine, and was one of the first nations to recognise the state of Israel following its declaration of independence [1]. During this period, Israel would enjoy financial support from South Africa’s growing Jewish population, which had grown from 105,000 in 1945 to 120,000 in 1949, with 80% originating from Lithuania [2]. Many new Jewish immigrants, much like other Europeans who immigrated before them, enjoyed easy and rapid upward mobility in Apartheid South Africa. Their success was greatly due to the country’s racialized economic discrimination, which allowed for wealth to accumulate quickly for the white population. According to Stevens in “Zionism, South Africa and Apartheid: The Paradoxical Triangle,” the South African Jewish community became the most affluent among Jewish communities globally on a per capita basis by the time World War II ended [3]. South African Jews would also send more money per capita to Israel than any other Jewish community, far more than that of the U.S. Jewish population, providing a lifeline to the infant state [4].

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This led to the South African Jewish community becoming a crucial philanthropic base for the Zionist project, building strong connections between the Israeli and South African Jewish communities. Furthermore, this was reflected in the establishment of institutions that would become central to South African Jewish life, like the South African Zionist Federation created in 1895, and the South African Jewish Board of Deputies which was made up of majority Zionists and promoted Israel as a fundamental necessity to the continued existence of the Jewish people [5]. Concurrently, on 26 May 1948, Jans Smuts, the incumbent Prime Minister of South Africa representing the United South Africa Party, lost to D.F Malan representing the National Party [6].

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Despite the National Party being rife with antisemitism, with ties to the Nazi sympathetic group “Ossewabrandwag” during World War II, Malan would prove to be supportive of the State of Israel [7]. He would reverse a ban on Jewish membership in the National Party, as well as promote a stance of non-discrimination amongst the country’s white population [8]. Moreover, Malan claimed that he looked forward to the day that the “Jewish question” was no longer a matter of discussion in South Africa, going so far as to amend the law to allow for Jewish reserve officers in the South African armed forces to serve in Israel [9]. He would also become the first Prime Minister in the Commonwealth to visit Israel. Additionally, despite the country’s struggling economically, Malan would approve the export of essential commodities and currencies to Israel (Stevens 127). This led to sweeping support for him amongst South Africa’s Jewish population and strengthened ties between South Africa and Israel [10].

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III. Israel’s Normative Foreign Policy

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In spite of its promising beginnings, the relationship began to sour quickly when Israel became a critic of South African apartheid at the United Nations from the early 1960s to 1967, as part of a wider normative de-colonial foreign policy supporting African Liberation Groups. In 1961 Israel voted to censure the South African Foreign Minister, Eric Louw’s speech at the General Assembly rebelling against the Western voting bloc who abstained [11]. In 1962, Israel voted in favour of Resolution 1761 which firmly rejected Apartheid and called on member states to adopt sanctions [12]. In 1963 Israel withdrew their diplomatic representation in South Africa, reducing it to a consular capacity [13]. This would anger South African PM Verwoerd who would respond by saying “[The Israelis] took Palestine away from the Arabs after the Arabs had lived there for a thousand years. In that, I agree with them. Israel is an apartheid state.” This statement underscored Verwoerd’s confusion and dismay at Israel’s hostility towards his country [14].

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In response, the conservative Herut and Agudat Yisrael parties at the Knesset would criticise the progressive anti-apartheid Israeli vote at the UN, claiming it would harm the South African Jewish community. PM Ben Gurion would defend Israel’s foreign policy by attributing it to three key factors: “Jewish moral heritage, the needs of South African Jewry, and the international position of Israel” [15]. He argued that Jewish people were obligated to oppose racism, quoting sections of the Torah, such as Moses marrying a Black woman. Gurion would also say “We tasted racial discrimination during thousands of years, and we will not be able to regard indifferent a regime which in such discrimination in the utmost form” [16]. This explains how Israel’s de-colonial foreign policy was grounded in Jewish values and principles, and given the recent discrimination Jews experienced in Europe, they found it critical to stand against oppression globally.

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In regards to South African Jews, Gurion said they did not vote to expel South Africa from the UN, as they feared the consequences for South African Jews if they did so, but instead took necessary steps to pressure the South African regime into ending apartheid [17]. Lastly, Gurion suggested that a significant factor in sanctioning South Africa at the UN was to bolster relations with newly independent African and Asian nations, who vehemently opposed South African Apartheid [18]. This was done to strengthen Israel’s image on the international stage as a country that was against discrimination and an ally to all nations that faced oppression.

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Israel would also be an outspoken critic of other white minority governments in Southern Africa, condemning Rhodesia’s declaration of independence and calling it “illegal” [19].

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Implementing its progressive foreign policy, Israel would form close relations with the Pan-Africanist Congress (PAC) and the Zimbabwean African National Congress (ZANU). The “Inkundla ya Bantu,” a South African newspaper associated with the African National Congress (ANC) youth wing, would write that the establishment of Israel was “of rejoicing not only for the Jews but for all oppressed mankind–for the tragedy of the Jews within the last thousand years is symbolized all oppressed humanity’s sufferings.” This exhibited the sympathy Israel garnered amongst liberation movements on the continent [20].

‍

Israel would also leverage the framing of its founding as anti-fascist, using these principles to gain the trust of de-colonial organisations and to create a positive repertoire amongst them. The ANC, along with liberation groups in Angola, Mozambique and Rhodesia, would all have meetings with Israeli diplomats by the early 1960s attempting to establish relations and lobby the Israeli government for aid [21]. In some cases, this appeared to pay off. Gaur Radebe, a senior representative of the South African United Front (a coalition between the ANC and PAC), met the head of the African Division of Israel’s Foreign Ministry, Netanel Lorch, to discuss collaboration. In 1963, Israel began providing aid (financial, training and equipment) to the Northern and Southern Rhodesian liberation movements, FRELIMO in Mozambique, and the FNLA in Angola [22].

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In Lusaka, the Israeli embassy began distributing “five hundred to one thousand sterling pounds” to senior PAC members located in Zambia [23]. Israel would also quickly become the PAC’s second largest single-state financial contributor, after China, fostering a strong bond between the two [24]. Senior PAC members would even sign letters to Israeli representatives ending with “Long live the solidarity of the people of Israel and South Africa,” revealing the allyship that freedom fighters found in the State of Israel [25]. This exhibits the alignment with liberation movements’ that Israeli foreign policy had at the time. This featured a distinctly more progressive and liberal agenda than their Western counterparts, who focused their efforts on supporting white minority governments in Southern Africa like Rhodesia and South Africa. This was based on Israel’s anti-fascist creation and a desire to position itself as a partner in global decolonization efforts, equating its struggle for existence to that of African Liberation groups.

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IV. Israel’s Shift to a Pragmatic Foreign Policy

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In 1967 Israel preemptively invaded the West Bank, Gaza, Golan Heights and Sinai, fearing immediate invasion from its neighbours [26]. This would mark a turning point in Israeli foreign relations, when its continued occupation of these territories promoted overwhelming condemnation from Global South nations. Virtually all independent African states (Zambia, Tanzania, Ghana, Nigeria, Congo (Brazzaville), Congo (Leopardsville), Gabon, Kenya, Libya, Senegal, Somalia, Zambia, Sudan, and Tunisia) would vote in favour of UN resolution 2443 which strongly opposed Israel’s occupation and violation of human rights in the West Bank, Gaza, Golan Heights and Sinai, with the exception of a handful abstaining [27]. As it became increasingly clear that Israel was an occupying force under international law, any prospect of positive relations between Israel and African nations ended.

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In June 1971 the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) hosted its eighth annual summit and stated that “the continued Israeli occupation constitutes a serious threat to the regional peace of Africa” [28]. That same year, Israel attempted to donate 2,850 USD to the OAU’s African Liberation Committee, but this was firmly rejected due to its political significance [29]. Also in June 1971, during the tenth session of the Afro-Asian People’s Solidarity Organisation, the committee adopted a statement “Condemning Israel and Zionism, Supporting the Rights of the Palestinians and the Palestine Resistance, and Calling for the Expulsion of Israel from the United Nations” encapsulating the united opposition Israel faced from the Global South [30].

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An Israeli Intelligence report published weeks after the Six-Day War stated that groups like the ANC and SWAPO have “blindly identified” with the Palestinian cause [31]. Israel’s endeavours to court the support of African nations had all but failed as a result of the diplomatic backlash they experienced for invading and occupying the West Bank, Gaza and Sinai. By 1973, all but four African nations had completely cut ties with Israel [32]. One of the last African countries to do so was Zaire, whose president Mobutu, in his statement regarding cutting ties, said Israel was like a friend who could not replace the Arab states who were brothers [33]. This underscores how African states not only abandoned Israel, but also began to share the viewpoint that Arab states were comrades in their struggle against colonialism and imperialism. Finding itself particularly alone on the international stage with the Global South firmly rejecting any relations with Israel, the groundwork was laid for Israel to begin its search for new international allies. This led it to ditch its de-colonial stance regarding foreign policy and turn to Apartheid South Africa, signifying a pivotal shift from liberal democracy to strategic pragmatism and realism.

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V. Growing Political, Economic and Military ties between Israel and South Africa

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The South African political establishment would rush to Israel’s defence following the Six-Day War with the editorial of Die Burger, a widely read Afrikaans newspaper linked to the ruling National Party, writing that “Israel and South Africa…are engaged in a struggle for existence…The anti-Western powers have driven Israel and South Africa into a community of interests which had better be utilized than denied” [34]. This is explained by both nations increasingly viewing themselves as victims subjected to a coordinated effort by their enemies, namely the USSR (who supported both the PLO and the ANC), to alienate the Apartheid regime and undermine their sovereignty [35]. In 1973, the head of the South African Bureau of Security would say, “I went to Israel recently and enjoyed every moment there. I told the Prime Minister when I got back that as long as Israel exists we have hope” [36]. This quote highlights the growing interconnectedness between the two nations and the extent to which they viewed the survival of their own state as dependent on the other. The week following the Six-Day War, the government of John Voster relaxed monetary controls so that South African Jews could transfer 20.5 million USD in financial aid to Israel [37]. The Voster government would send a South African delegation to Israel to provide updates to the South African chief of staff about the war [38].

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Between 1967 and 1974 South Africa would set up a consulate in Tel Aviv to foster closer relations [39]. The Israelis would reciprocate by establishing an embassy in and full diplomatic relations with South Africa in 1974 [40]. In 1976, PM Rabin of Israel invited PM Voster to come to Israel on an official state visit, underscoring the stark difference in previous Israeli de-colonial foreign policy. By the end of this publicity tour, they had solidified an agreement which covered “commercial, trade, cooperative, fiscal, and, in all probability military spheres” [41]. They would also establish a ministerial committee that convened once a year to discuss the execution of this plan.

‍

That same year, Israel began abstaining from any votes relating to South African apartheid at the United Nations, thereby gaining an ally [42]. South Africa would reciprocate by refusing to condemn the Israeli annexation of East Jerusalem at the General Assembly, an action which even the US, historically one of Israel’s closest allies, would do [43]. This displays the mutually beneficial relationship that developed, with both states providing political cover for one another and providing each other legitimacy that they otherwise lacked from other countries. Thus, the pragmatic switch in Israeli foreign policy appeared to pay off by acquiring an uncompromising backer in the global arena.

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The burgeoning political ties between Israel and South Africa were reflected in the reliable economic partners they found in one another, providing a lifeline to both economies as they faced growing economic isolation from the majority of the Global South. A multitude of joint ventures would emerge as a result. One such example is the Iskoor Steel Company created in 1971 as a joint venture between the South African government-owned Steel company Iscor, and the Israeli Koor investment firm which is part of Histadrut, the largest Israeli trade union at the time [44]. More joint ventures would be established rapidly in the following years, with South African investors pouring money into large infrastructure projects, such as a hydro-plant that would channel water from the Mediterranean to the Dead Sea. South African investors would also play a key role in the funding of a rail line between Eliat and Tel Aviv [45].

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Moreover, subsidies for South African companies were set up in Israel, such as Tagun Rubber and Transvaal Mattress, to support the domestic economy [46]. In return, Israeli firms would also set up factories in South Africa like Tadiran, the country’s largest electronic manufacturer with support from Calan, a local cooperation [47]. Due to the level of government involvement, this trade signified something beyond a financial friendship; it was a political project. In 1973 the head of the South African delegation to the “millionaires conference” stated that Israeli and South African economic cooperation was done so as to [48].

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Furthermore, the trade of goods would increase dramatically following 1967, with Israeli exports from South Africa increasing from 4 million to 48 million USD in 1979, and South African exports increased from 3.4 million to 53 million within the same period [49]. South Africa would export an extensive array of raw materials to Israel from wool to frozen meat to prefabricated wooden houses [50]. However, three items in particular made up the vast majority of exports from South Africa, with steel alone making up 40 per cent [51]. South Africa’s raw diamond exports also became critical to Israel’s cutting industry (Israel cut 52 per cent of the world’s diamonds at the time) with the Israeli government investing 100 million USD to support the industry in South Africa [52]. Lastly, the trade of coal would become crucial to the economic trade relations, as South Africa became Israel’s main coal supplier. In 1979, the two nations signed a deal that ensured that 23 million USD worth of coal from South Africa made its way to Israel’s Hadera power plant per annum [53]. All three of these goods became imperative to sustaining the Israeli economy; from construction to diamonds to simply keeping the lights on. Israel, in exchange, would supply South Africa with advanced technology, animal feed, and phosphates, all of which would prove essential to South Africa’s agricultural industry and military [54].

‍

The sharing of counter-insurgency knowledge and materials would also become a key component of the South African-Israeli alliance. Israel would supply six Reshef-class navy ships to South Africa, each equipped with Gabriel surface-to-surface missiles. Two would be supplied prior to Vorster’s state visit to Israel in 1976 with the rest sent afterwards, exemplifying the highly politicised element of this deal [55]. The Israelis would then provide training on how to operate the vessels along with new electronic equipment they supplied to the South African Air Force. In 1977, 150 South African Centurion tanks were modernised by the Israeli army in exchange for the South Africans supplying a rare type of steel needed for Israel’s domestically produced chariot tanks [56]. That same year, the UN Security Council passed resolution 418 which imposed an arms embargo on apartheid South Africa. Israel, as a result, became South Africa’s main arms supplier, further entrenching their relationship. Crucially, Israel would provide aid and licences to the South African government to produce the Uzi submachine gun, Galil assault rifle, and even the Cheetah jet, helping to sustain the South African arms industry which served as its economy’s foundation [57].

‍

In December 1981, when South Africa launched an invasion of the border regions between Angola and Namibia, Israeli defence minister Ariel Sharon visited the areas and assured South Africa that they would continue to supply them with arms [58]. With both nations facing growing counter-insurgencies from the Palestinian Liberation Organization and African National Congress respectively, exchange of military knowledge and tactics became even more vital to their relationship. By 1979 the number of Israeli military experts in South Africa reached some five thousand, providing much needed advice on how to control an increasingly civilly disobedient South African population and thwarting the operations of the ANC’s armed wing, Umkhonto We Sizwe [59].

‍

Most significant, however, is Israel and South Africa’s collaboration on nuclear weapon development. In 1979, Israel and South Africa would supposedly test a neutron bomb in the Indian Ocean in what would become known as the Vela incident [60]. The resulting flash would be captured on US satellites and weather stations, leading the US Defense Intelligence Agency to believe that they were able to successfully carry out a nuclear test [61]. Other historians and organisations have refuted this and claimed that they were mistaken. This is hard to prove due to the secrecy shrouding Israel and South Africa’s military exercises.

‍

Regardless, collaboration between the two concerning nuclear development became central to both countries’ relationships following the signing of the 1976 Scientific Cooperation Agreement. Israeli scientists and personnel were documented working at the Valindaba plant which focused on uranium production [62]. In response, South Africa would export valuable uranium to Israel to aid their nuclear development, creating a symbiotic relationship where Israel would provide expertise and South Africa would supply the raw goods [63]. Nuclear development would be used by both nations as a tool to gain leverage in the global political system and to dissuade hostile states from any confrontations that could challenge their legitimacy.

‍

Israel would defend their relationship with South Africa stating that they shared similar concerns and experiences. In 1974, Israeli Defense Minister Shimon Peres wrote a letter to South African PM, P.W. Botha, stating that they both had a “common hatred of injustice” and that they had a “close identity of aspirations and interests” [64]. In 1976, Yitzhak Rabin would further attempt to justify this relationship at a state banquet with South African PM Vorster, claiming, “The ideals shared by Israel and South Africa: the hopes for justice and peaceful coexistence,” framing the relationship between both nations not only as a strategic military alliance, but a moral one too [65]. Thus, the Israeli government was able to shift its foreign policy while also reconciling it with so-called principles of “combating injustice” in the world through shared ideals.

‍

The relationship between Israel and apartheid South Africa highlights that, regardless of a state’s moral principles and ideals, when fearing for its survival a state may relinquish normative commitments for the adoption of a pragmatic approach. Often, this means becoming allied with any actor willing to provide assurances, irrespective of ideological contradictions. As in the case of Israel and South Africa, they shared both isolation and delegitimization, forging a bond based on their joint standing as pariah states and their mutual fears of annihilation. This entrenched their dynamic and created a relationship of dependency on one another for legitimacy, trade and military cooperation. In spite of Israel facing alienation from Global South nations following the Six-Day War and gaining a new advocate on the global stage, perhaps it was ultimately their affinity for apartheid South Africa that sealed Israel’s fate as an outcast of the international system. This legacy continues to impair Israel’s global reputation as a long-time supporter of the Apartheid state, and how this relationship reflects possible continuities in this dynamic through the practice of apartheid in the Israeli context.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

[64] Antony Loewenstein, The Palestine Laboratory. Penguin Random House (2023):
https://dokumen.pub/the-palestine-laboratory-1922310409-9781922310408.html

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[20], [21], [22], [23], [24], [25], [31] Asher Lubotzky, “The Rise and Fall of Israel’s Anti-Apartheid Policy: The Case of Israel’s Relations with the Pan-Africanist Congress (PAC) During the 1960s,” The Journal of the Middle East and Africa, Volume 15 (2024):
https://doi.org/10.1080/21520844.2024.2347152

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[13], [29], [32], [33], [36], [39], [40], [41], [42], [45], [46], [47], [50], [51], [53], [56], [62] Naomi Chazan, “The Fallacies of Pragmatism: Israeli Foreign Policy towards South Africa,” African Affairs 82, no. 327 (1983): 169–199.
http://www.jstor.org/stable/721403

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[65] Chris McGreal, “Brothers in Arms – Israel’s Secret Pact with Pretoria” (2006):
https://www.1fmediaproject.net/new/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/Brothers-in-arms-Chris-McGreal.pdf

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[44] Dajani Souad, “Israel and South Africa: The US Connection,” Arab Affairs, Washington, Issue 24 (1988):
https://www.proquest.com/scholarly-journals/israel-south-africa-u-s-connection/docview/219514202/se-2

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[15], [16] Rotem Giladi, “Negotiating Identity: Israel, Apartheid, and the United Nations, 1949–1952,” The English Historical Review, Vol. 132, No. 559 (2017):
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/325101932_Negotiating_Identity_Israel_Apartheid_and_the_United_Nations_1949-1952

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[35] Galia Golan, “The Soviet Union and Third World National Liberation Movements: The Soviet Role” (2018):
https://doi.org/10.4324/9781003336778

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[17] Giora Goldberg, “Ben-Gurion and Jewish Foreign Policy,” Jewish Political Studies Review 3, no. 1/2 (1991): 91–101.
http://www.jstor.org/stable/25834199

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[6] Makori Haron, “South Africa–Middle Eastern Relations,” Digest of Middle East Studies (1997):
https://www.academia.edu/68059748/South_Africa_Middle_Eastern_Relations

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[37], [38], [43], [48], [49], [63] Azim Husain, “The West, South Africa and Israel: A Strategic Triangle,” Third World Quarterly 4, no. 1 (1982): 44–73.
http://www.jstor.org/stable/3991507

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[30] International Documents on Palestine, “Provisions of a Resolution Adopted at the Tenth Session of the Executive Committee of the Afro-Asian People’s Solidarity Organisation…” vol. 1971 (1974)

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[19] Jewish Telegraphic Agency, “Daily News Bulletin,” Vol. 48 No. 217 (1965):
http://pdfs.jta.org/1965/1965-11-15_217.pdf

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[1] Helmuth Lowenberg, “Israel,” The American Jewish Year Book 51 (1950): 389–406.
http://www.jstor.org/stable/23603788

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[4] Edwin S. Munger, “Statement on South Africa and the United States,” Issue 5, no. 3 (1975): 62–65.
https://doi.org/10.2307/1167032

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[11], [28], [54] Ethan A. Nadelmann, “Israel and Black Africa: A Rapprochement?” The Journal of Modern African Studies 19, no. 2 (1981): 183–219.
https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022278X00016918

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[26] Michael B. Oren, Six Days of War: June 1967 and the Making of the Modern Middle East. Oxford University Press (2002). ISBN 978-0-19-515174-9

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[14], [57], [59], [60], [61] Mohamed Rabie, Israel and South Africa: The Ties that Bind. First Publishing Corp (2021):
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/353131239_Israel_and_South_Africa_The_Ties_that_Bind

[

34] Sasha Polakow, The Unspoken Alliance: Israel’s Secret Relationship with Apartheid South Africa. Penguin Random House (2010). ISBN 978-1-77009-840-4

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[7] Martin Schönteich and Henri Boshoff, Volk, Faith and Fatherland: The Security Threat Posed by the White Right (2003):
https://api.semanticscholar.org/CorpusID:152504275

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[2], [3], [5], [9], [10] Richard P. Stevens, “Zionism, South Africa and Apartheid: The Paradoxical Triangle,” Phylon 32, no. 2 (1971): 123–142.
https://doi.org/10.2307/273998

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[27] United Nations Dag Hammarskjöld Library, “Respect for and Implementation of Human Rights in Occupied Territories” (1968):
https://research.un.org/en/docs/ga/quick/regular/23

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[8], [58] United Nations, “Report of the Special Committee Against Apartheid,” Thirty-Ninth Session No. 22 (1984):
https://digitallibrary.un.org/record/115497/files/A_40_22_Add-1-4-EN.pdf

‍

Wivel, Anders. “Realism in Foreign Policy Analysis.” Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Politics (2017):https://oxfordre.com/politics/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780190228637.001.0001/acrefore-9780190228637-e-475

A failed state is not defined by a single collapse, but by the slow erosion of its core  functions; the ability to govern, to protect, and to inspire trust in its people. Lebanon, once  renowned as the “Switzerland of the Levant,” has in recent decades become a striking example of this erosion. Decades of systemic corruption have hollowed out state institutions and left the country unable to effectively exercise authority or safeguard its sovereignty.

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As such, Lebanon ranked 149th out of 180 countries in Transparency International’s  2020 Corruption Perceptions Index, underscoring the depth of its governance crisis. Entrenched  political nepotism and elite capture have not only paralyzed state institutions but also eroded  public confidence. Foreign influence further destabilized an already fragile system, fueling  socioeconomic inequalities and deepening public resentment.

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In the decades after the 1975–1990 Civil War, Lebanon’s state capacity eroded under entrenched corruption, political nepotism, and elite capture. Only 9% of Lebanese adults express confidence in their national government;[1] This erosion of public trust, compounded by escalating foreign interference, has further weakened Lebanon’s fragile political system and sovereignty. These converging pressures set the stage for the 2019 crisis. Tracing the road to 2019, this paper demonstrates how weak institutions, corrupt patronage, and governance failure converted growth into scarcity, widened inequality, and ultimately culminated in a full-blown banking crisis.

‍

‍

I. Historical and Social Context: Foundations of Post-War Corruption and Financial Collapse

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The aftermath of the Lebanese Civil War was catalyzed within the Taif Agreement of 1989. This so-called agreement surrendered all core state activities to Syria and Saudi Arabia, its main mediators, and institutionalized a system of  government that ultimately enabled deep-rooted corruption. While the treaty enshrined sectarian power-sharing, it was also designed with an amnesty clause that pardoned warlords and corrupt  politicians, permitting them to gain control of ministries, public institutions and reconstruction  funds. As such, it became very easy for these figures to funnel state resources into private  networks. Very shortly after, in 1992, Lebanon embarked on a reconstruction process heavily anchored in  its service sector, mainly banking and real estate. Spearheading this project was the late Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, whose vision of rebuilding the country emphasized financial liberalization, luxury urban planning, and attracting foreign investment, particularly from Gulf states and the  Lebanese diaspora. This was mainly aimed to turn Lebanon into a regional hub: a “Hong Kong or a Riviera”.[2]

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Thus, Solidere, a private real estate company, was established by Hariri in 1991 through controversial Law 117 that established the framework for reconstruction. According to French researcher Fabrice Balanche, the creation of this company and the passing of this law required a huge amount of public bribery that could only have passed if it targeted all the public leaders of the country.[3] Solidere, privatized in 1994 and listed on the Beirut Stock Exchange, received extensive legal and political authority, allowing it to expropriate large sections of downtown Beirut, leading to forced evictions. Hariri, Solidere’s largest shareholder, blurred the line between  public policy and private gain, exemplifying postwar corruption linked to Lebanon’s political elite.  Solidere epitomized a redevelopment model marked by elite capture, regulatory weakness,  systemic corruption, and opaque public procurement practices. This reconstruction model was part of a broader system of rent-seeking mechanisms involving  compensation, Treasury Bills, and high interest rates. 

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By the end of the 1990s, Lebanon’s  sovereign debt ranked among the highest in the world, much of it held by Lebanese banks either directly owned or affiliated with Hariri.[4] The Central Bank of Lebanon (BDL), under the leadership of former Merrill Lynch banker Riad Salameh, implemented financial engineering schemes that offered banks exorbitant returns for attracting foreign currency deposits. Operations were conducted to bolster foreign-currency reserves and defend the pound’s peg by paying banks exceptionally high returns for sourcing and placing fresh USD at the central bank. In the 2016 scheme, BDL swapped LBP T-bills for Eurobonds and then sold their USD assets to banks, while letting them borrow LBP at 2% interest and re-deposit at 10.5%, creating a risk-free carry. The package also domestically financed fiscal deficits via bank purchases of sovereign paper, and boosted gross reserves even as net reserves deteriorated, while widening maturity and currency mismatches, thus creating a false image of good LBP valuation. Short term, this steadied the peg; longer term, it concentrated bank exposure to the sovereign/BDL and made the system dependent on continuous new inflows, magnifying the eventual break.[5]

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This fed into an unsustainable financial structure that depended on continuous capital inflows, primarily from Lebanese expatriates across Europe, Africa, South America, and the Middle East. As time went on, risks related to the system changed from mainly devaluation risks reflected in risk premium on LBP deposits over USD deposits, and default risks started to rise showing as risk premia on dollar deposits over global dollar rates (Appendix 1). Over time, banks used these inflows to lend to the state and reap extraordinary profits, creating a debt-to-GDP ratio of more than 150%.[6] With the same elite controlling the state, financial institutions, and major  sectors of the economy, meaningful reform remained elusive despite pressure from international institutions like the IMF in its publications and the World Bank.[7]

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The last step in understanding how the banking crisis unraveled is to look at capital flows and  their accumulation. Over two decades, these capital flows kept financing and expensing an imbalance between public and private savings; they can be divided into a public and a private component according to the national account identity formula.[8] Capital flows and their subsequent effects on the economy can be broken down into the following formula:

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Current account deficit = Private (savings – investment) + Government deficit

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It is important to note when looking at the evolution of the current account and the public deficit  over time, (Appendix 3), how capital flows started financing mainly a private sector deficit rather than a public one. The private deficit expanded: households, firms, and banks were spending more foreign currency than they earned, producing sustained outflows. This rise was driven by capital flight, with political elites, who had prior knowledge of an imminent crisis, transferring substantial funds overseas. This dynamic is exemplified in the pre-crisis year, when the private deficit peaked around 22% of GDP. Furthermore, the artificial currency peg made foreign goods artificially cheap which in turns encouraged massive  imports of goods. This consumption was made possible and facilitated by large monopolies that held exclusive import licenses, obtained through bribes, indicating how corruption funnelled through  what was supposed to be private economic activity, revealing the complicity of the government.

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By 2019, remittances and capital inflows began to slow and the system put in place by the wealthy elites could no longer sustain itself. Additionally, some Lebanese banks were sanctioned  by the US Department of the Treasury for allegedly facilitating money laundering and for their ties to  the corrupt system. Jammal Trust Bank was one of those sanctioned, eventually having to self-liquidate as a result.[9] This incident sent shockwaves through the broader Lebanese banking industry. As foreign governments continued to intervene, internal confidence within the system continued to decay, leading to even bigger capital flows, while capital controls, withdrawal limitations, and concern about the financial system’s viability have all contributed to a loss of trust in banks. A notable example is that of the US, who seemingly took it upon themselves to sanction any institution and politician that did not stand with or align themselves with American interests.[10]

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II. The Crisis and Its Dire Economic and Humanitarian Effects

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Large protests erupted in October 2019, reflecting deep frustration with the state, systematic corruption, and financial stagnation. Throughout this entire turmoil, banks began facing large liquidity shortages as depositors rushed to withdraw their funds; the general response was to  implement formal capital controls and block transfers abroad. This measure was completely  unprecedented and was neither backed by legal reasons nor voted upon, creating an even greater  uprising as the wealthy elites were still able to wire their funds abroad while the lower classes were left wondering what would happen to their funds. A striking example is that of Nady Salame, the son of Lebanon’s central bank governor, who was able to transfer over $6.5 million abroad and conduct property and real estate transactions exceeding $20 million, while most Lebanese residents saw their savings frozen.[11]

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The collapse of the Lebanese pound (LBP) has unfolded with devastating consequences over the past several years, marking one of the most severe economic crises in modern history. Prior to the  nationwide uprisings of October 2019, the official exchange rate was fixed at 1,507 LBP per US dollar. By early 2022, the LBP had plunged on the parallel, or “black,” market to over 30,000 per US dollar. The rate continued to deteriorate, reaching nearly 100,000 per US dollar by late March 2023, reflecting a total loss of confidence in both the domestic currency and the state institutions that underpin it.[12]

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As reflected in the table in Appendix 2, the implications of the currency collapse are dramatic. By  the end of 2022, Consumer Price Index change was multiplied by a coefficient of 10.4x as  consumer goods were rising at an annual rate of roughly 200% between that time. Consequently, a large majority of the population could not even afford basic food services, exacerbating the gap between the poor and elite.

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Parallel to the currency crisis, Lebanon’s economy has shrunk dramatically. Gross Domestic Product (GDP) plummeted from approximately $55 billion in 2018 to around $35 billion by 2020.  By 2021, the economy had contracted further to an estimated $22–24 billion. Early indicators in  2022 suggested that this decline was ongoing, pushing Lebanon further down the global economic ladder. The effects of this contraction have been felt at the individual level. GDP per capita, which  stood at roughly $8,000 in 2018, dropped below $3,000 by the end of 2021.This economic freefall  has led to the near-complete annihilation of Lebanon’s once-thriving middle class. The poverty rate, which hovered around 30–35% in 2019, surged to 85–90% by late 2021[13] plunging the country into mass impoverishment and social despair, as families find  themselves unable to afford even the most basic necessities of life. In sum, the currency collapse, output contraction, and explosion in poverty reflect a systemic breakdown that has turned a middle income economy into a humanitarian emergency; without credible stabilization, governance reform and targeted social protection, living standards will continue to erode and recovery will always remain remote and partial.

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III. The Collapse of Governance and the Urgency of Reform

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To conclude, as seen throughout this paper, corruption and agency-related issues can only  deepen inequalities and drive a country toward systemic collapse. In the case of Lebanon, the  entrenchment of elite interests, the manipulation of state resources for private gain, and the absence  of accountability mechanisms dismantled public institutions from within. The 2019 banking crisis  was not a sudden shock, but rather the inevitable outcome of decades of unchecked corruption, financial mismanagement, and political impunity supported by foreign agents. As state structures  crumbled and public trust eroded, Lebanon’s governance capacity failed to meet even the most  basic needs of its citizens, ultimately fulfilling the criteria of a failed state. 

Lebanon now stands on a knife’s edge. Regional geopolitics have further eroded macro-financial stability and hard-currency inflows: Iran’s sponsorship of Hezbollah prompted Gulf withdrawals and investment pullbacks, while U.S. sanctions raised banks’ funding costs, restricted correspondent-banking access, and choked dollar liquidity. On the security front, recurrent Israel–Hezbollah hostilities over time have deterred foreign direct investment and tourism, and accelerated dollarization and capital flight. Together, these external pressures entrenched dependence on volatile inflows and hastened systemic breakdown. Against this backdrop, the very recent aggression and the forced displacement of over one million Lebanese further aggravate the crisis. Given the deepening humanitarian emergency, it is more urgent than ever for the newly appointed Lebanese government to make reforms and retake its sovereignty.

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Appendix 1: Differences in spread and premium on LBP deposits and USD deposits over time.

Appendix 2: Fluctuation of Current Account deficits over time, broken down between private and public deficits.

Appendix 3: Effect of the economic crash on key indices.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

[3] Balanche, Fabrice. “The Reconstruction of Lebanon or the Racketeering Rule.” Lebanon after the Cedar Revolution, 2012. 

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[10] Barakat, Majdy, and Sumru Altug. Research Report. An Economic Policy Uncertainty Index for Lebanon, 2023.

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[8] Diwan, Ishac, and Henri Chaoul. Lebanon At Risk: The Uncertain Road from a Debt Overhang to a New Growth Path, Policy Note 9, July 2023. 

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[7] International Monetary Fund. Middle East and Central Asia Dept. “Lebanon: 2019 Article IV Consultation-Press Release; Staff Report; Informational Annex; and Statement by the Executive Director for Lebanon”, IMF Staff Country Reports 2019, https://doi.org/10.5089/9781513517049.002.  

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[2] Kaufman, Asher. “Lebanon’s Tragic Path from Economic Miracle to Collapse.” Kellogg Institute For International Studies.. https://kellogg.nd.edu/news/lebanon%E2%80%99s-tragic-path-economic-miracle-collapse.

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[11] Kobaissi, Riad, Tom Stocks, and Rana Sabbagh. “Lebanon Central Bank Governor’s Son Moved Millions Abroad While Lebanese Watched Blocked Savings Dwindle.” OCCRP, May 13, 2022. https://www.occrp.org/en/investigation/lebanon-central-bank-governors-son-moved-millions-abroad-while-lebanese-watched-blocked-savings-dwindle. 

[5] Oguri, Junko. “Part II of Crisis in Lebanon: Buildup of Interrelated Challenges ” Yale School of Management, September 21, 2020. https://som.yale.edu/blog/part-ii-of-crisis-in-lebanon-buildup-of-interrelated-challenges. 

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[4] Sharp, Deen. “Lebanon and the Fog of Reconstruction.” Project on Middle East Political Science (POMEPS) , 2018. 

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[6] Shawish, Hesham. “How Did Lebanon Become the Third Most Indebted Nation?” BBC News, October 25, 2019. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-50183895. 

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[12], [13] Snaije, Bassem. “Lebanon: Financial Crisis or National Collapse?” CIDOB Notes Internacionales, no. 275 (June 2022). https://doi.org/10.24241/notesint.2022/275/en.  

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[9] “Treasury Labels Bank Providing Financial Services to Hizballah as Specially Designated Global Terrorist.” U.S. Department of the Treasury, August 29, 2019. U.S. . https://home.treasury.gov/news/press-releases/sm760.

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[1] Vigers, Benedict, and Mohamed Younis. “Lebanon Ill-Equipped for Further Instability.” Gallup.com, January 2024. https://news.gallup.com/poll/548348/lebanon-ill-equipped-further-instability.aspx. 

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FURTHER READINGS

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Blair, Edmund. “Explainer: Lebanon’s Financial Crisis and How It Happened | Reuters.” Reuters, January 23, 2023. https://www.reuters.com/markets/rates-bonds/lebanons-financial-crisis-how-it-happened-2022-01-23/. 

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Karam, Karam. “The Taif Agreement: New order, old framework.” Accord 24 (2012): 36-42. https://www.c-r.org/accord/lebanon/taif-agreement. 

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Mahmalat, Mounir. “The Grand Waiting Game: Why Lebanon’s Elites Postpone Compromise.” Economic Research Forum (ERF), February 14, 2023. https://theforum.erf.org.eg/2023/02/14/the-grand-waiting-game-why-lebanons-elites-postpone-compromise/.