40 Middle East & Africa The EconomistFebruary 6th 2021
2 phones. In January it suspended the import
of red meat. Two weeks earlier, President
Abdelmadjid Tebboune sacked the trans-
port minister and the boss of Air Algeria,
the national carrier, for using hard curren-
cy to buy catering supplies.
The ban on foreign cars, though, has
proved more controversial. Last year Fer-
hat Ait Ali, the minister of industry, said
they were “not a priority”. But growing pub-
lic anger over the shortage has prompted
Mr Ali to change tack. In January he said
that $2bn would be allocated for car im-
ports by vetted dealerships. The allocation
is meant to cover everything from passen-
ger cars to commercial trucks. “They are
trying to avoid another uprising,” says Zine
Ghebouli, an analyst. “But at a certain point
people will recognise that $2bn is not
enough.” The car-import bill in 2013, when
there were no restrictions, topped $6bn.
Algeria has long tried to diversify away
from energy, build up manufacturing and
reduce its reliance on imports. After ban-
ning car imports in 2016 it set up partner-
ships between foreign producers and Alge-
rian businessmen with the aim of assemb-
ling cars locally. The government hoped to
create a motor industry as hefty as that of
Morocco, Algeria’s neighbour, which ships
cars to Europe and across Africa.
Algeria’s plan drew foreign partners
such as Renault, Volkswagen, Hyundai and
Kia. The partnerships were given free land
and subsidised energy for their plants, and
breaks on taxes and custom duties. In re-
turn, they were required gradually to in-
crease their use of local materials. But
building a local supply chain is difficult in
a country with no history of carmaking.
Critics say the new plants used more for-
eign parts than they were supposed to, and
the cars they produced cost more than the
imported cars they replaced, while still eat-
ing up hard currency.
Algerians saw it as yet another example
of regime insiders lining their pockets at
the public’s expense, a defining feature of
President Abdelaziz Bouteflika’s rule. Since
he was pushed out in 2019, there has been
some accountability. On January 28th a
court upheld prison sentences for two for-
mer prime ministers convicted of award-
ing contracts to cronies and costing the
state hundreds of millions of dollars. Two
former industry ministers and several
businessmen have also received jail time.
Still, Algerians complain that the old
elite remains in charge—and the people
still need cars. The assembly plants had
their import licences revoked and were
closed. The government says it is seeking
to establish new partnerships between for-
eign firms and local businessmen, and that
this time it will ensure that more produc-
tion happens locally. But no new deals have
been announced. And Algeria is still run-
ning out of cash. 7K
uwait’s national assembly is so row-
dy that debates sometimes descend
into fisticuffs. But on one issue, at least, the
mps have little to say. Sheikha al-Ajmi, a
parliamentary employee, was killed by her
brother in December. Some say he didn’t
like her working as a security guard; others
say he was angry that she wanted to marry
outside their clan. The chamber offered no
condolences. mps may have feared the
wrath of her tribe. Some probably ap-
proved. “They think what happens at
home, even murder, is a private matter,”
says Nour AlMukhled, a Kuwaiti activist.
No country in the Middle East and north
Africa releases an official count of “honour
killings”, which typically involve men
murdering female relatives for actions
they consider immoral. Activists say such
killings are still common in the region, de-
spite years of campaigning against them.
Most states treat them more lightly than
other forms of murder. Take Kuwait, where
a man who catches his wife committing
adultery or a female relative in the pres-
ence of a man and kills her (or him) faces at
most three years in prison for what is con-
sidered a mere misdemeanour.
Activists have tried to shame leaders
into changing such laws. Abolish 153, a
group in Kuwait, aims to get rid of Article
153 of the penal code, which sets out the lax
punishments for honour killings. Last
summer the hashtag #Ahlam’s_Screams
trended in Jordan after a man was filmed in
public using a brick to smash the skull of
his daughter, Ahlam. (He then sat down
next to her body, drank tea and waited for
the police to arrive.) Elsewhere, groups ar-range hideouts for women in danger.
There has been some progress. Several
governments have passed laws against do-
mestic violence and abolished ones that al-
lowed rapists to dodge prosecution by mar-
rying their victims. Jordan, which used to
put women seeking refuge in jail, opened
its first shelter for women in 2018. But only
Lebanon, Tunisia and the Palestinian Au-
thority have abolished laws that treat hon-
our crimes leniently. In November the Un-
ited Arab Emirates said it had, too, though
it has yet to publish the provisions.
Critics dismiss the measures as lip ser-
vice. Enforcement by judges, officials and
police—mostly men—is patchy, they say.
Local authorities sometimes register hon-
our killings as suicides or disappearances.
The legal system is superseded by tribal
codes in some areas. And rulers find it easi-
er to stop peaceful female activists than
murderous men. When women in Saudi
Arabia tried to register a charity to set up
shelters in large cities, Muhammad bin Sal-
man, the crown prince, had them jailed.
Arab opinion is difficult to gauge be-
cause polling is forbidden in many places.
But in 2018 and 2019 a survey of six coun-
tries in the region (and in the Palestinians’
West Bank) by Arab Barometer, a pollster,
found that more people thought honour
killings were acceptable than thought so of
homosexuality. In most places, young Ar-
abs were more likely than their parents to
condone honour killing (see chart).
The results are reflected on the Arab
street and on social media, where oppo-
nents of honour killings are accused of pro-
moting adultery and Western norms. A
year ago thousands of protesters rallied in
Hebron, the West Bank’s largest city, after
the Palestinian Authority signed the un’s
Convention on the Elimination of All
Forms of Discrimination Against Women.
Worse, the scope of what is deemed a
punishable breach of honour is widening.
Inthe past year women have been mur-
dered for such offences as wearing
make-up and chatting online. Last month a
Saudi woman was killed by her brothers for
having a Snapchat account. (When her sis-
ter wrote on social media that her body had
been dumped in the desert, the police de-
tained her.) More generally, during lock-
downs to contain covid-19, violence
against women has increased. “No woman
feels safe,” says Ms AlMukhled. “Men are
getting away with murder.” 7Male-dominated governments are doing little to end the killing of womenHonour killingsMurder, plain and simple
To their shame
Respondents who consider honour killings
tobe“acceptable”,byagegroup, 2019, % of totalSource: Arab BarometerTunisiaWest BankLebanonSudanMoroccoAlgeriaJordan0 5210 15 20 530 3518-34 35 and over