The Economist - USA (2020-02-15)

42 Middle East & Africa The EconomistFebruary 15th 2020

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Failing that, with one belligerent (like Mr

Assad) on a roll, there is no incentive to

stop fighting and let the blue helmets in.

So the unset its sights lower. The for-

mer special envoy, Staffan de Mistura, pur-

sued local ceasefires—“freeze zones”, as he

called them. A tally in 2018 by the Atlantic

Council, a think-tank, looked at 18 such

truces in the Damascus suburbs. The medi-

an agreement held for just ten days; only

three lasted longer than a month. They al-

lowed Mr Assad to regroup. He did not have

enough men to fight on all fronts, and the

men he had were often bad at fighting.

Though the regime could not tolerate well-

armed rebels in the suburbs of Damascus,

neither could it afford to throw troops into

meat-grinder urban warfare. With the un’s

help, Mr Assad cut deals in the suburbs,

then starved residents into submission.

A similar approach in Yemen focused

on Hodeida, a strategic port that has seen a

lot of fighting. In December 2018 the war-

ring parties struck a deal in Stockholm that

called for an immediate ceasefire and a re-

deployment of forces. A year later, aid

agencies reported that Hodeida was still

the most dangerous governorate for Yeme-

ni civilians, accounting for one-quarter of

all casualties.

Though the unfocuses on creating safe

zones, none of the Middle East’s civil wars

is truly local. Iran and Russia intervened to

support Mr Assad. Gulf states sent arms

and money to his rebel opponents and laid

waste to Yemen with American support.

The situation in Libya is so chaotic that

even dirt-poor Chad has become a player.

But the unlooks powerless to halt such

support. Syria is not subject to an arms em-

bargo, while restrictions in Yemen apply

only to certain groups, such as the Houthis

(whose Iranian patrons ignore the edict).

The Security Council, where America, Rus-

sia, China, France and Britain hold vetoes,

would probably fail to impose a blanket

ban on either state. unmembers such as

Turkey and the United Arab Emirates suffer

no consequences for violating the organi-

sation’s arms embargo on Libya.

Officials say they are doing all they can.

At a conference in Rome in December, Mr

de Mistura compared himself to a doctor

working on a chronic case. “You cannot

cure everything. Some diseases are diffi-

cult—but would you abandon the patient?”

he asked. “You try to reduce the pain until

the treatment is found.”

Yet theunoften fails to do even that.

Unable to stem the flow of weapons, it is

left to preside over talks ever more di-

vorced from reality. It took more than a year

just to agree on the members of Syria’s con-

stitutional committee. Mr Assad said his

delegation to its first meeting was not there

in an official capacity. Still the talks lurch

on—not even a palliative, in Mr de Mis-

tura’s metaphor. More like a placebo. 7

A

t theClock-TowerSquareinJaffa,

dozens of Israelis wait in the winter

sun for a bus home after a Saturday after-

noon in nearby restaurants and bars. Any

other day of the week this would be

normal, but for today’s passengers there

is a subversive thrill.

For over 70 years buses and trains

have not run in most of Israel from sun-

down on Friday to nightfall on Saturday.

Before Israel’s founding in 1948, its first

leader, David Ben-Gurion, won support

from ultra-Orthodox rabbis for statehood

by promising that public services would

not operate on Shabbat. Every Israeli

government since has adhered to the

agreement, against public wishes: 71% of

Jewish citizens favour public transport

ontheSabbath,a surveyfinds.

In November 2019 Tel Aviv and neigh-

bouring towns established a privately

run bus network. It has proven wildly

popular, and more towns have joined in.

Local governments were reluctant to

challenge the government of Binyamin

Netanyahu, which relies on ultra-Ortho-

dox coalition partners. They depend on

budgets from the interior ministry,

which is in the hands of Shas, an ultra-

Orthodox party. But Mr Netanyahu now

heads a mere caretaker government.

Though religious cabinet members

lambast the Sabbath buses, the ministry

cannot change levels of funding.

Tel Aviv and many of its suburbs are

relatively secular. In the two stalemated

elections held in 2019, their residents

tended towards centre-left opposition

parties. Neither Mr Netanyahu nor Benny

Gantz, an opposition leader, could form a

coalition. On March 2nd Israel will hold

its third election in 12 months.

Mr Gantz is targeting “soft-right”

voters souring on Mr Netanyahu. Dahlia

Scheindlin, a pollster, thinks some might

be attracted to “the murky concept of a

liberal government”, meaning enforcing

the rule of law, tackling corruption (Mr

Netanyahu is under indictment) and

defying religious coercion. According to

her surveys, between one-quarter and

one-third of Likud voters are concerned

about these issues. Who knows where a

taboo bus ride might lead?

Shabbatriders

Religious politics in Israel

JAFFA

Bus services on the Sabbath challenge Binyamin Netanyahu’s government

24 hour piety people

F

or decadesQatar has promoted itself

as a beacon of openness in a repressive

region. It hosts Al Jazeera, a popular Arab

satellite station that broadcasts opinions

suppressed elsewhere in the Middle East.

And it is a haven to those fleeing Arab des-

pots. But its emir, Tamim bin Hamad Al

Thani, is less tolerant of criticism directed

at him. Last month he issued a decree

threatening five years’ imprisonment or a

fine of $27,000 for “anyone who broad-

casts, publishes or republishes false or bi-

ased rumours, statements or news...with

the intent to harm national interests, stir

up public opinion or infringe on the social

system”. The leading state-controlled daily

newspaper reported on the decree—then

nervously retracted its report.

In Doha, the image of the emir is as

ubiquitous as Saddam Hussein’s once was

in Baghdad. “Tamim the Glorious”, reads

the slogan underneath. Qatar’s newspapers

often have the same front-page stories,

with near-identical headlines. The lead

story on January 23rd, about a police gradu-

ation ceremony, mentioned the emir nine

times. Academics who step out of line risk

being dismissed. “I can’t even organise a

workshop,” says a writer returning from a

civil-rights seminar in Kuwait.

The institutions tasked with holding

the government to account are window-

dressing, say critics. The Consultative As-

sembly, Qatar’s parliament, sits in a gleam-

ing white building laced with arabesque.

But its 45 appointees wield little power.

DOHA

The Gulf emirate famed for openness is

silencing domestic critics

Qatar

Tamim the

gloriously tolerant