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I vividly recall my arrival in the Kingdom in April, 2012 for what became a three-and-a-half-year ambassadorial assignment. It was my first-ever visit there and I had no idea what to expect. On the drive from the airport to the official residence in the Diplomatic Quarter, my curiosity gushed out questions as I drank in my new surroundings:
e What is that magnificent building
complex?
¢ Princess Noura University for women —
40,000 students there
¢ Hmmm…? And that area with so many
skyscrapers under construction?
e¢ King Abdullah Financial City; 40 towers
being built simultaneously; like down-
town Toronto going up before your eyes
¢ And why all the light armoured
vehicles at the entrance to the Diplomatic
Quarter?
e Be thankful; Saudi Arabia is still
Al Qaeda’s number one target: not many years ago Western compounds suffered a spate of bombings and attacks by terrorists wielding machine-guns I could see that I had come to an interesting place.
By the time I landed in Saudi Arabia, I had already had postings on six continents, sailed to the seventh (Antarctica), and visited more than 90 countries. I did not think that much could surprise me. But Saudi Arabia proved to be a country of endless contrasts and frequent contradictions — women barred from driving but outnumbering men in universities; movie theatres non-existent but the world’s second highest per capita usage of You-Tube; a modern and highly commercialized society but one where everything, including shopping and official meetings, stopped several times a day for prayer. Of course we at the Embassy spent much of our time in the “diplomatic bubble”, where even a single malt could be found in this driest of countries, tasting all the better for its illicit nature. But it was always clear that the culture around us was alien to our own, and it was fascinating to try to imagine how differently one’s mind might view things if it had developed in this environment and sat underneath a Saudi goutra or hijab.
Having done a fair amount of preparatory reading about Saudi Arabia, I came with many pre-conceptions. After all, Saudi Arabia has been a target of widespread international criticism long before the Globe decided to go on crusade. So I arrived with the impression that this was a country stuck in the sand in more ways than one, a place with an oppressive monarchy holding back the aspirations of the people, where time had been made to stand still, and where any forces for change were strongly resisted by the powers that be. Over time, however, I learned the inaccuracy of that image. I came to understand that Saudi Arabia is in fact experiencing a pace of change beyond anything the West has known in recent decades, and that the Saudi monarchy is actually more liberal than the majority of the population that it governs. I came to recognize that King Abdallah, under whose reign I spent most of my posting, was not some hopeless Canute trying to hold back the waves but rather an agent of change, trying delicately to nudge the country forward toward modernity, but always facing strong headwinds from deeply entrenched conservative elements.
Far be it from me to be an apologist for the Kingdom or to diminish its serious human rights issues. Although the Saudi record is not always as black as it is painted, it is certainly dismal by our standards whether one looks at women’s rights, religious freedoms, corporal and capital punishment, judicial transparency and fairness, or media and political freedoms. The gaps and transgressions are constantly chronicled by international media and NGOs. But relatively little ink or air-time is devoted to the context of Saudi society and its rapid pace of change. This is perhaps not surprising since the country remains opaque and closed for most of us, partly because its leaders care little about Western viewpoints. They focus their political and public relations efforts almost exclusively toward a domestic audience, one whose views and values differ markedly from our own.
For me, the most prominent differentiating trait of Saudi society is its religiosity. In our Western society, religious belief has, over the centuries, been pushed to the margin — something one holds (or not) individually but which no longer governs our collective daily activities, societal norms or political life. There are of course religious elements to politics in many countries, such as the first commandment of the Republican Party in the U.S. — that women shall not have choice. But generally, religion does not determine how we structure our societies nor what we permit individuals to do within them. In Saudi Arabia, by contrast, religion permeates everything, almost as it must have been in medieval Europe. The mosques are full; the call to prayer goes out five times a day and people stop what they are doing to respond; courts follow strict, literal interpretations of Sharia law based on the Koran; Ramadan fasting is a national activity and a period when the country effectively shuts down; Eid is the greatest annual celebration; the King’s responsibility as Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques is taken at least as seriously as his role as monarch; the Muslims of the world flock in millions to Mecca (a city which non- Muslims are not even permitted to enter).
Of course, the religious police, or mutawa, are there to monitor behaviour. Even Western women have to cover their hair (not their faces) and wear long black abayas when outside the Diplomatic Quarter — otherwise, they risk a mutawa scolding. The power of the mutawa was visibly waning during my time in the Kingdom. But in any event, Saudi religiosity is not reliant on policing. It is woven into the country’s social fabric, with all the entailed peer pressure. This is especially true in rural areas and it is important to bear in mind that, unlike the other Gulf petro-monarchies, Saudi Arabia is a large country with a geographic expanse almost equivalent to Western Europe. Even with the heavy urbanization of recent decades, the rural population of Saudi Arabia is greater than the entire population of the UAE.
Many in the West lament Wahabism, the Saudi version of Islam. It is ultraconservative and thus the source of many Saudi practices which we decry. One could therefore take the position that the Saudis have chosen the wrong religious beliefs and interpretations. But there is more than a tinge of arrogance in that argument and, in any event, it holds no water with the Saudis. Lawrence of Arabia, who knew something of the Middle East, considered that it was merely “ploughing the sands” to try to sow Western values in a place so “full of the certainty of God”. We have learned through the long march of human history that what one person sees as religion, another may see as oppression. We have also learned that those full of “the certainty of God”, whether in Saudi Arabia, Israel, the United States or elsewhere, are usually deaf to the clamour of public opinion when they believe that higher voices are calling.
The religiosity of Saudi Arabia may erode over time, as ours has done. But I would not bet on that; it would be like religion leaving the Vatican. What is more likely is that it will be increasingly influenced by more modern thinking and will incorporate new interpretations more compatible with our Western norms and human rights standards. This would not be dissimilar to our own evolution away from some of the egregious practices once justified in the name of Christianity. This will take time but change is very much in the air in Saudi Arabia.
Let’s consider the issue of women’s rights. These are still woefully inadequate in Saudi Arabia, but the pace of change is remarkable. In the 1960s, there was virtually no education for women; now they outnumber men in Saudi universities and colleges. During my brief time in the Kingdom, the signs of progress were evident. King Abdullah appointed women for the first time to the Shoura Council (allocating 20 percent of the seats and even deciding on mixed gender meetings — a key signal in a society where gender separation remains prevalent). Women voted and ran for office for the first time during the Saudi municipal elections in 2015. Saudis celebrated their first female Olympic athletes, Saudi women climbing Mount Everest and exhibiting at the Venice Biennale. Although women still form only a small part of the Saudi workforce (about 15%), this is growing rapidly. I witnessed the progress firsthand at my outreach meetings; each year there were more women involved, usually better prepared and more efficient than the men — and not shy to speak their views. My wife was also witnessed it, relieved when the opening of retail jobs to Saudi women meant that she no longer had to shop for underwear with male attendants.
The Saudi government has now officially espoused the goal of a 30% female workforce as part of a broad and transformative national plan — “Vision 2030” — championed by the young Crown Prince Mohamed bin Salman. The plan has already delivered the first cracks in the infamous Saudi system of male guardianship, with King Salman announcing in May 2017 that women would no longer require male approval to access services such as health and education. Reform of the guardianship system is the number one priority for most progressive Saudi women, and they see Vision 2030 as offering breakthrough potential. The guardianship system is all the more incongruous when one considers that three of Forbes Magazine’s top 5 “most powerful” Arab businesswomen are Saudis. And now it appears that, by June 2018, they will even have the power to drive.
Speaking of driving, let’s reflect on Henry Ford. He was born in the same month
Dessert camping.
as the battle of Gettysburg. Blacks were still enslaved in the southern U.S., the violence and inhumanity of the civil war was beyond imagination, and women’s rights were almost non-existent. He passed away in an entirely different world in 1947, just into the nuclear age — although even then, segregation remained the norm throughout the South and blacks could still be lynched there with impunity. De-segregation would take nearly two more decades to achieve. The point is that enormous social transformation can take place in the course of one lifetime, but progress on human rights is a trans-generational endeavour. This is even truer in conservative, religious societies. Just consider pre-Quiet Revolution Quebec where women did not get the provincial vote until 1940, 22 years after federal enfranchisement.
King Abdullah was born in 1924, when Henry Ford was still selling his Model Ts. The transformation in Saudi Arabia during Abdullah’s lifetime was easily equal to what Ford witnessed in his. Abdullah was born into an Arabian Peninsula where Saudi Arabia did not yet exist, where most of the local population remained nomadic and led by tribal chieftains, where oil had not yet been discovered and hard cash revenues came largely from taxes assessed on pilgrims, where Abdullah’s father King Abdul Aziz was at war in the Hejaz, and
where the House of Saud’s alliance with the Wahabi clerics was the foundation for its legitimacy and its eventual unification of the country. Oil was not discovered in Saudi Arabia until Abdullah was 14. Saudi Arabia had no inter-city paved road until he was 27. There was no university until he was 33. The Saudi Arabia in which he passed away in 2015 — the country that I came to know — was a totally different world, one where all the technology and commercialism of modern society had been rapidly layered over a bedrock of tribal and religious tradition still highly visible and close to the surface.
The demographics give a sense of the breath-taking pace of change in Saudi Arabia. In 1960, Riyadh was a city of
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some 100,000 people. It now has between 7 and 9 million (depending on how one measures its vast expanse), a much larger population than the Greater Toronto Area, and larger than any European city except London and Moscow. Saudi Arabia’s population has increased by over 700 percent in the past fifty years compared with a 75 percent increase for Canada. The country has also urbanized at an incredible rate, moving in one generation from a predominantly nomadic people to one which is 80 percent concentrated in three cities (Riyadh, Jeddah and Dammam). And this hectic pace of change is set to continue. Nearly two-thirds of the country’s population is under 25 years of age, compared with less than 30 percent of Canada’s.
There are many reasons for Canada to engage actively with Saudi Arabia: it is our largest trading partner in the Middle East, the only Arab country in the G 20, the leader of the Gulf Cooperation Council, a pilgrimage destination for Canada’s one million-plus Muslims, a valued partner in counter-terrorism intelligence-sharing, a key player on regional issues, a counterweight to Iranian influence, and a force for stability in a troubled region. Constructive engagement should include a robust but
Dessert camping.
respectful dialogue on human rights and can hopefully help to reinforce the Kingdom’s evolution in a progressive direction. Perhaps the greatest long-term dividends will come through the strong educational linkages which Canada has established with Saudi Arabia — what I always called the “jewel in the crown” of the bilateral relationship.
During my ambassadorial tenure, there were some 16,000 Saudis studying in Canada, most of them part of a scholarship program, established by King Abdullah, to send hundreds of thousands of young Saudi men and women for study abroad. This may well prove to be the Kingdom’s most transformative initiative, and it is one in which Canada is playing a leading role, as the third destination for Saudi students after the U.S. and the U.K. When King Abdullah passed away in early 2015, Governor General David Johnston came for the condolences —a sign of Canada’s respect for the King and an acknowledgement of the importance of our relationship with Saudi Arabia. During his visit, the Governor General spoke passionately about the “diplomacy of knowledge”, a theme which lies at the heart of our engagement with the Kingdom. As Saudi Arabia maintains a dizzying pace of change and charts its path forward, it is heartening to know that many of its future leaders will have experienced Canadian ways and values. While benefiting from our world-class education system, living “in the entrails” of Canada cannot but leave an impact.
During my time in the Kingdom, one of my great joys was to experience the desert — something one must do to understand the Saudis, just as time spent in snowstorms and forests gives clues to the Canadian psyche. My wife Susan and I fell in with a group of desert travellers equipped with all the kit, and we would take some marvellous weekend trips — to ancient camel caravan roads, abandoned Ottoman forts, centuries-old rock carvings, volcanic craters where we slept beside black walls of solidified lava, fossil beds full of shark’s teeth and ammonites, the massive sand dunes of the Empty Quarter, the Naboteam tombs of Maidan Saleh. The endless horizons, shifting sands, myriad stars, silence, timelessness and immensity of the desert make it an ideal place for contemplation — a place to reflect on eternity, infinity, humanity and theology. It is a place that lends perspective — that gives one a longer vista and a wider horizon, something we need as we contemplate the Kingdom. My time “living in the entrails” there gave me an appreciation for Saudi Arabia’s deep societal traditions and its remarkable pace of change, for the progressive forces at work and the challenges which they face, and for the need to look at things thee in generational time-scales. What Canada is doing to educate a new generation of Saudis also makes me proud and optimistic about the future.
Tom MacDonald retired from Global Affairs Canada in February, 2015 after more than 41 years of public service. This included 22 years posted abroad in Mexico City, as Deputy Head of Mission in Brussels (EU), Minister (Commercial/ Economic) in London, Consul General in Sydney, Chargé d’Affaires in Brunei and in Libya, and Ambassador in Buenos Aires and, most recently, Riyadh. He also occupied several senior posts in Ottawa, including as Director General for U.S. Trade and Economic Affairs, Director General for Central, Eastern and Southern Europe, and Director General for the Export and Import Permits Bureau.
Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 30, No. 2 (2017), pp. 19–22. Read the rest of this issue →
