Try as I might, there are things in Jordan that I cannot fully comprehend, and will often times shock me. The state of the country’s young population is one of those things. When I see two tribes suddenly going to war because one 19 year old male as caught staring at the sister of another 19 year old male on a bus – it baffles me. It baffles me when they riot, set fire to shops, rampage in the street, call for blood. I was equally baffled (and admittedly just a tad bit humored) when one university student shot another student for throwing a snowball at him during last March’s snow day. Honor crimes baffle me, especially the fact that they are carried by Jordanian males who are typically under the age of 25. We are talking about a generation of people who were mostly born in the 1990′s. Does anyone remember what growing up in the 1980′s and 90′s was like?

I figured that was an appropriate context to pave the way for what comes next.

First. A 19 year old Jordanian kidnaps a 14 year old girl (with the assistance of his family) – takes her to a location where a tent was set up for him to rape her repeatedly for three straight days before the police roll in. The court sentences him to death by hanging but he manages to produce a very recent marriage certificate signed by a judge. The court then stays the execution but claims that it will be reinstated should the boy divorce her without a “justifiable cause”. A professor of sociology from the University of Jordan was widely quoted by the original article produced by Arab Al Yawm – that “women are different in nature from men” and that the girl should now make her best of the situation and play the role of a good wife, mostly by putting this whole silly rape thing behind her.

Second. Another 19 year old Jordanian was condemned to death by hanging for raping and stabbing his teenage girlfriend to death before burning her body because her family refused to let him marry her. Evidently, this boy couldn’t find a judge to marry them first so that at the very least he could call this an honor crime.

And that’s just April.

Last October, a 46 year old man was charged for having killed his 19 year old daughter after having raped her for five years and impregnating her. He killed her by cutting her open to remove the fetus. He was sentenced to hanging. A few days before that, a 26 year old was also sentenced to hang for raping a 7 year old girl who was on her way to school.

What is going on with young male Jordanians these days? When did this level of brutality come about? Has it always been there and we’re just hearing about it now? Or is this all recent? How did we get here? Rape is a brutal crime on its own – but these crimes go beyond that. Kidnapping, extensive rape, burning bodies? The death penalty, which hangs plenty of men each and every year, doesn’t seem to have had an impact. Families, mostly out of shame, seem to back the males and are happy to condemn their female victims. We hardly ever hear the voices of activists or even female parliamentarians who supposedly represent women issues, or at least claim to.

Without a doubt, there is a chilling silence. And in my opinion, that’s really what’s killing Jordanian women.

Where is the moral majority that is always more than happy to speak out on a wide variety of issues (including night clubs, bars and defunct casino deals), but never on anything remotely close to the way women are treated in our own backyard? And that is the crux of the issue – these crimes are not random or rare, they emerge from a certain environment of which the justice system’s current framework has done little to counter. The crimes may not be widespread but the environment is, as are the people who prop up that environment. And no amount of civil society workshops, advocacy campaigns or academic research papers are going to make a dent in that environment.

I’m not a huge advocate of the death penalty, and if anything, the continued emergence of these crimes has proven that it’s obviously not working. I honestly believe that the risk of their honor being tarnished is more important to some Jordanians than death. If that’s the case, a Scarlet Letter policy (along with castration) would probably be a better way to go. Short of that, I don’t see the death penalty doing anything to stem the tide of this kind of brutality. Using shame as a tool might be an effective approach, and it might not. What I do know is that a radical approach is needed, and it starts with the killing of this appalling silence.

Still trying to wrap my head around the Khasawneh resignation and despite all the heated rhetoric being thrown around in the press, and the attacks being launched upon the man, leave it to Emad Hajjaj to say it all. Brilliant.

But the state is surely running out of sacrificial lambs options.

The state of Jordanian parliament today reminds me of the Dead Sea. It’s the lowest point on Earth, it’s a body of water where nothing can survive, and it continues to recede every year causing an increasingly dire situation. The events in parliament that have transpired in the past few days and weeks have come to demonstrate the degree to which our parliament has hit rock bottom.

In the past month alone, some of the highlights included the violent prone MP Yaya Saud, known for his repulsively belligerent ways that have included leading and directing mobs to attack protesters and critics of the state over the past year and a half – who recently attempted to attack a fellow member of parliament, Bassam Hadaddin. Speaker of the House Dughmi some how felt it was logical to use his podium as a platform to criticize Hadaddin who had published a column a day earlier criticizing the speaker’s totalitarian attitude. According to the reports, Hadaddin was not allowed to defend his position with Dughmi telling him to basically sit down and shut up, while the latter essentially accused the man of being bitter for not receiving a requested financial perk. This caused Hadaddin to walk out along with other MPs. Eventually, Haddadin and Dughmi met behind closed doors, resolved their differences, and the microphone was turned over to the latter to make a statement, when Yahya Saud popped up and ripped out the microphone, hurling insults and attempting to attack Haddadin. It was a scene out of a WWE tournament. MP Jamil Nimri called the event an “indescribable…disaster”. I would call it, disgusting.

Perhaps my favorite part of that video is the last few seconds where someone tells the media “Don’t tape this”, and someone else says “tape it!”. It’s pretty demonstrative of the relationship between the media and the parliament. Rewind only a few days prior, MPs took turn chastising the media for being critical of their demands for lifetime diplomatic passports. The Jordan Press Association called their remarks “offensive”, and dubbed the lower house as being “politically bankrupt”. One would think MPs would have a greater respect for the media given that without their coverage they would be rendered more obsolete than they already are, to say nothing of their love for the cameras.

But the cherry on top has surely been this absurd battle between the Senate and the Lower House regarding the civil retirement law, with the latter body wanting an amendment that would guarantee them lifetime pensions. The Senate rejected the amendments, and the Lower House rejected their rejection, sending the law back and forth in a political ping pong session. In case any one has forgotten, these are MPs that were “elected” in Novemeber 2010, which makes them barely a year and a half old. And in case anyone has forgotten, the country is not only faced with unprecedented political turmoil in the region and at home, but it’s also in economic dire straits. While the people are demanding holding officials responsible for financial corruption, as well as solutions to the level of poverty and unemployment, this legislative body is asking that they receive lifetime salaries no matter how long they’ve served, and on the tax payer’s dime.

Yesterday, as everyone knows by now, the Lower House “won” the battles, and I’m using air quotes here because the Senate also ended up voting in its favor during the joint session. MPs (and I believe Senators too) make about 3,000JDs a month, so for 180 members of parliament (both houses) that takes us to 6.48 million dinars a year. To say nothing of the next parliament. To say nothing of the rest of their lives.

With the exception of a few members, Parliament has officially lost its mind and, in my opinion, I think it’s time to seriously consider its dissolution. We have all gone along with the political theater that is this parliament, but right now this farce is not only set to cost us millions, but is too incompetent to tackle the reform issues in its hand. For it to continue is not only disgraceful, and not only destructive, it erodes what little confidence the Jordanian street has in the state’s genuineness regarding reform.

There are, of course, legal repercussions to such an action considering that the constitution has been amended and requires elections to be held within four months. The tight spot the country is currently in revolves around this reality as well as the fact that a new elections law is being submitted by the government for approval by the parliament. Suffice to say, given the state of our parliament, I no longer trust them to properly discuss their own lunch order, let alone amendments to our constitution, and an election law that will likely be the biggest defining factor for the reform process in the Kingdom. This issues is much too important and much too dangerous to put in the hands of parliament, who I’m sure would not be able to secure a vote of confidence from the people today.

The new elections law requires national consensus, and this cannot be facilitated by a politically (and now morally) bankrupt parliament. It requires a national discussion and a process whereby different parties have the opportunity to present alternatives, offer input, and then put it up for a national referendum, allowing the people to directly vote. The alternative is having this currently defunct parliament decide on behalf of the people of whom they are non-representative, which will likely result in another absurd election process, protests, rinse and repeat.

It is of utmost importance that the state get the elections process right. From the legislative process, to the monitoring of the elections, to the conduct of the elections themselves. It must be a process that is inclusive of the Jordanian population, which has a right to have a firsthand say in the country’s political destiny. And thus, it is a process that must exclude this parliament, given its nauseating state.

After some limited so-called public outrage over moves by Parliament to amend the Passport law to grant themselves permanent diplomatic passports – along with royal family members, senators, royal court chiefs, King’s advisors, Islamic justices, as well as former and current ministers – the Senate seems to have rejected the amendment. The mildly controversial story is just another demonstration of Parliament’s bankruptcy as an effective and trustworthy legislative body, but more importantly, it’s also yet another distraction. However, one thing did catch my attention regarding this story:

Angry with the media outlets’ “abusive and prejudiced” coverage of their recent controversial amendments to the legislation, several deputies went on the offensive against journalists last week, describing them as “corrupt”, “indecent”, “biased”, “hypocritical” and “bought off”. Following last Tuesday’s session, the Jordan Press Association issued a statement denouncing the “offensive” remarks and calling on media outlets to boycott the deputies who made them, whom the syndicate described as “politically bankrupt”.[source]

There was just so much irony in the accusations made by MPs that my head momentarily considered imploding.

Indeed, there is much that is wrong with our media and level of quality journalism, but this constant use of the media as the go-to straw man whenever shit hits the fan is growing increasingly absurd. There isn’t a single political figure in this country (be they appointed or elected) who doesn’t come with their own baggage, and simply put, those in glass houses shouldn’t be throwing stones. Being “corrupt”, “indecent”, “biased”, “hypocritical” and “bought off”, are all adjectives that accurately describe many within Parliament and beyond.

As for the passports – this is such an incredibly silly issue that I’m wondering whether this was all deliberately planned just for the heck of the distraction. Because the alternative is that in the midst of unprecedented political upheaval in the region, in the midst of chronic poverty and unemployment, in the midst of Jordanians protesting and others losing faith in the state’s ability to deliver on reform promises – in the midst of all this, the genius calibre that is our parliament has decided to grant themselves a perk. What makes this even more idiotic is that we are talking about a country where, as of today, women are unable to pass on citizenship to their children (forget passports…citizenship), and there unresolved issues regarding the withdrawal of passports from citizens of Palestinian decent. So naturally, both the timing and context is just right to discuss giving yourself and the political elite permanent diplomatic passports. This is to say nothing of plans to revise their lifelong pensions, with some MPs threatening to boycott parliament if they don’t get one.

Why this current parliament exists is beyond me. And why we are allowing it to vote on the election law, to say nothing of the constitutional amendments, baffles me.

And pretty soon, the only rational reason for you to return to that world of noise is that thing deep down inside of you that yearns to make sense of it all. Unfortunately, out loud.

So this post is just to say that I’ll be returning from my vacation, and hoping to sit back down behind the glare of my screen and try to put words to thoughts once more. At least until the static just gets too much.

And now, I leave you with the obligatory lolcat.

“God help us from those who believe that they are the sole possessors of truth. How we manage at times to agree willingly to become prisoners within our own minds and souls of beliefs and ideas on which we can never be flexible. How can we resolve problems if we do not place ourselves in the position of others with whom we have problems? How can we move ahead if we do not have mutual respect for each other, and stemming from it…trust?”

Today, this blog finishes its seventh year. It was perhaps the most dramatic and turbulent years in the country’s recent history, and I think a great deal of what I’ve written these past 12 months is a reflection of that. I usually take this time, this day, this post, to reflect on the past. It’s usually a chance for me to see what lessons I can personally glean from my own writings and from the events that have unfolded in the Kingdom these past few years. The only problem is that this past year is so dominant in my mind that it clouds out everything else. In other words, I’m forced to look at the present over the past. And when looking at the present, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this confused or unsure of things. Reflecting on everything, I’ve actually tried to reduce the frequency of writing on this blog this past year due to the fact that the situation is incredibly confusing. It’s kind of ironic I suppose as I clearly remember many of the days that would pass me by in past years when I’d wish something was going on worth writing about, worth talking about, worth debating. And then 2011 comes along and the words come out all jumbled; the thoughts scattering like birds amidst the confusion.

From protests, to movements, to critics, to government political maneuverings, to parliamentary absurdities, to media blunderings, corruption case after corruption case, a dwindling economic state, statements, tribalism, suspicions, conspiracies, loyalties, thugs,  rallies, pop-patriotism, and more and more and more. Of course, this is to say nothing of the region that surrounds us, and affects us, and manipulates our political landscape unpredictably.

And in the midst of all this…the picking of sides is demanded of us. Everyone wants to know where you stand. Are you “with” or “against”? And for the life of me, I haven’t a clue as to what we’re supposed to be “with” and what we’re supposed to be “against”. But it doesn’t matter. There’s black and there’s white, and you’re supposed to pick a color and stick to it – all in a country that is immersed in a thicket of grey. And when we pick a side, we’re supposed to apparently attack the other side. If we disagree with them, we tear them apart. If we don’t agree with their opinions we’re supposed to insult them, their background, their personal lives, etc. Disagreement is good, but this kind of animosity towards one another is on a whole other level. There’s a game being played on a chess board, and everyone is shifting themselves around to counter the other’s moves. And it is all so, very, very, very tiring.

For the first time in a long time, I cannot see the way forward. And everyday, something seems to happen that reminds of that fact; something that makes the fog around us thicker and thicker.

All this is enough to keep a person from writing. A part of you might want to speak and articulate a thought, but with so many elements at play, with so much polarization, with so much aggravation, so much animosity towards one another, you have to wonder if it’s worth it. If not for anything else, but for one’s own sanity. Perhaps even for one’s own safety. For the sake of not descending in to that dark abyss of cynicism, dispair and hopelessness. One wishes only good things for the country he or she resides in or belongs to, and in one way or another, tries to work towards that. But it becomes incredibly difficult to do this when the light at the end of the tunnel is not only dim, but blocked by so many shadows in the foreground. And those shadows belong to us. All of us. In every statement, every comment, every response, every thought articulated in the public domain – all of it plays a role. We remain our own worst enemy, and this is the worst time in any country’s history to play that role. This is the worst time to become prisoners within our own minds and souls; to be the possessors of inflexible ideas.

With that in mind, the only personal resolve I have when it comes to the future is to try and elevate the debate. Our public discourse has been dragged down so low by the maddening crowd that its probably time to start a new chapter. I’m not demanding consensus, but rather respect. This pillar has been increasingly absent from the public discussion, allowing egos to clash and personal vendettas, suspicions and loyalties to play out instead. I think this country and its people deserve to have a better debate; an elevated discourse. I think we deserve to have a discussion built on respect and not animosity. I think we deserve to grapple with the bigger issues, as tough, complex, grey, sensitive, controversial and confusing as they are – without having to feel like we’re under attack.

I do think it’s time for something better. And that’s my personal resolve this year.

p.s. if you’re wondering who the author of the quote above is – that would be HM King Hussein.

The headline came as no shock. Jordan is the fifth most militarized nation in the world according to the 2010 BICC Global Military Index. Only Israel, Singapore, Syria and Russia are ahead of the Kingdom. The index measures various elements, including comparing military expenditure with the country’s GDP, as well as its health expenditure, in addition to comparing the number of military forces from the total population, and the ratio of the number of heavy weapons available to the overall population. Let’s look at the numbers.

A brief look at the ranking table that compares the country’s ranking over the span of the last two decades, a few things are discernable. In 1990, Jordan’s placed 6th in the index, and over the next decade or so, saw a substantial fall in its rank. For instance, in 1992, Jordan dropped to 12th, and continued to do so until its lowest point in 2002, where it was ranked 24th. Based on the table, one can see a turnaround in the expenditure around 2003, where it suddenly ranked 20th. Between 2003 and 2008, a period considered by many to be an “economic boom” for Jordan and by 2008, and running parallel to the war on Iraq, Jordan went from the 20th to the 4th most militarized nation in the world. Even during 2009, when most countries around the world, including Jordan, struggled to recover from the global financial crisis, the Kingdom ranked 5th, and had managed to hold that position as of 2010.

According to the World Bank, military expenditure (current LCU) in Jordan was last reported at 1,016,000,000 as of 2010. As the graph below shows, over the past 22 years this indicator reached a maximum value of 1,016,000,000 in 2010 and a minimum value of 210,000,000 in 1995. [source]

Which the World Bank defines as:

Military expenditures data from SIPRI are derived from the NATO definition, which includes all current and capital expenditures on the armed forces, including peacekeeping forces; defense ministries and other government agencies engaged in defense projects; paramilitary forces, if these are judged to be trained and equipped for military operations; and military space activities. Such expenditures include military and civil personnel, including retirement pensions of military personnel and social services for personnel; operation and maintenance; procurement; military research and development; and military aid (in the military expenditures of the donor country). Excluded are civil defense and current expenditures for previous military activities, such as for veterans’ benefits, demobilization, conversion, and destruction of weapons. [source]

When it comes to total expenditure, military expenditure represented 19.59% in 2009 (as a percentage of the government’s total expenditure), compared to 19.43% in 2008. This expenditures supposedly excludes what the government pays to veterans (many of whom serve an average of 15 years before retiring), or the civil defense. When it comes to GDP, the World Bank puts military expenditure at 10% in 1991 at the country’s peak, 4.45% in 1995 as the lowest point, and a steady increase since then with a high of 6% in 2000, and a recent 5.5% as of 2009.

In other words, overall military expenditure has increased, specifically in the past decade, representing about one-fourth of the entire state budget. The decrease in its percentage of the GDP can, in my opinion, probably be explained to the fact that Jordan’s GDP increased from $6 billion to $25 billion, between 1995 and 2009.

I thought this substantial increase, to say nothing of such a prominent global ranking, quite fascinating. The military expenditure has always been a tricky issue to tackle. The media generally stays away from it, which is why I’m surprised the Jordan Times even picked up that story. But generally speaking, it’s not an issue many like to explore as it tends to inspire a bit of fear given that the entire security apparatus (especially the intelligence department) is a black hole when it comes to information. There’s also fact that so many families are connected to the military, and that it is traditionally tied to nationalism and thus to question anything about it, especially in these sensitive times, would be to question a higher authority. Jordan is of course not alone in this, as most countries have, at one point or another, experienced such an environment of infallibility when it comes to the armed forces, especially during times of war (e.g. US during the initial Iraq invasion). However, regardless of this canonization, it is a topic that begs to be discussed, especially given the massive impact of the security apparatus, and specifically the army. Access to information would be very useful here, given the fact that a country of this size, with few natural resources, high levels of poverty and unemployment, is spending so much on the military – the question of ‘why?’ stands to be asked.

This is not necessarily a complete waste of money, nor is my intent here to paint such a picture. What I am particularly interested in is where the money goes, and why. What kind of model is set up to ensure that the such expenditure is justifiable, especially in the economic climate we reside in? Some have pointed to the military as being a mass employment center for Jordanians,  with some numbers that have passed me by suggesting expenditure on salaries being as high as 85% – which would be in tune with public sector spending in general (roughly 90%). Jordan has around 100,000 active military personnel and nearly 65,000 active reserve. How many families that represents is debatable, but applying the average Jordanian household size of 5.4 you end up with roughly 891,000 – which might put us in the ballpark of understanding the size and impact of the armed forces within the larger society, i.e. how many depend on it either as an active salary, a pension or as a source of health care and social security. Other perks have also included housing, as well as securing seats in public universities for the children of ranking military personnel. In other words, the biggest focus of the military these days seems to be with raising wages periodically, especially in the past year, while securing benefits. When it comes to health insurance, nearly half of all insured Jordanians are military. Even the pay raises, a recent one being 20JDs, are quite little given the expansive nature of the army, stretching even foreign aid donations (in the hundreds of millions) fairly thin.

Understanding where the funding is allocated is key here. In other words, it shouldn’t just be about the expansion of this sector as a mere employment machine. And despite the purchase of arms, the sale of old ones, and the granting of others - spending money on the military can actually have a unique return on investment rather than be typically viewed as a drain that simply employs people. There seemed to be an effort, mainly lead by the King, to do something similar in Jordan during the early part of the past decade, but many of those efforts have seen limited positive results, and the hype they once enjoyed has now faded entirely, including the likes of KADDB and the DIP fund, whose offices now overlook the manmade cavity that is their finest real estate misadventure in Amman, the Living Wall. Even utilizing the armed forces as an investment partner in various private sector entities does not seem to have done much other than dancing between a very thin ethical, if not constitutional, line.

When it comes to Jordan, there seems to be the absence of an underlying strategy whereby the armed forces is recognized as an integral arm for development and contributor to the GDP that it could be. If there is a strategy, then it seems to have fallen by the wayside. Again, we don’t really know. With so many people connected to it, the entity is already an intricate part of the social fabric. The economic opportunities and potential it may present must expand beyond the borders of an unsustainable mass employment machine. This naturally requires more than just knowing what the real numbers are, but where they’re being allocated, and more importantly, why.

However, tackling this would require the willingness to have a conversation that is based on economics as opposed to nationalism. And these days, it seems the latter often overshadows the former.

An 18 year old Jordanian burned a picture of the King a few weeks back during a protest, and has since been sentenced to two years by a military court.

A military prosecutor says a young Jordanian activist has been found guilty of “harming the king’s dignity” for burning a street poster of the monarch and has been sentenced to two years in prison. The prosecutor says 18-year-old Odai Abu-Issa torched King Abdullah II’s poster in front of a government office in southwestern Jordan two weeks ago.

The motive remains unclear. Abu-Issa belongs to a small group of young Jordanians who have been demanding Abdullah’s absolute powers be curbed. The prosecutor said the verdict by the military State Security Court was issued Thursday. He insisted on anonymity in line with military regulations. [source]

I understand that burning a picture of the King is offensive to some, along with the flag and other symbols of the country, but there is something seriously wrong with this in my opinion. First off, are we still charging people with “harming the King’s dignity”? Is that the hallmark of a country that wants to pursue reforms and establish a democratic environment? Is the bar for the King’s dignity set so low that an 18 year old can meet it if he simply burns a picture in public? Moreover, and perhaps more importantly to me, why is a civilian, an 18 year old no less, being prosecuted be a military court? Is he a soldier in the military, or is the military simply the body of government in charge with protecting the King’s dignity?

I’m not in favor of burning things in protest, but I’m not in favor of trying civilians through the military courts, or, over such an unreasonable law and its subsequent sentence. There are people who get less time in jail for killing their sisters and declaring it a matter of “honor”, than those who insult the King’s dignity. In fact, this kid also set some public property on fire, the punishment of which is ironically hard labor.

It also appears that he was beaten by police while in jail. If anything, I’d think that beating an 18 year old, and sending him to a military court to be tried and sentenced to two years would probably harm the dignity of the King than the burning of his picture.

There is perhaps the thinking that if this kid receives a harsh sentence it will send a message to protesters that insulting the King will not be tolerated. Actually, I’m quite convinced that someone, some where has probably thought this. Unfortunately, that kind of logic no longer plays out in the context of this Arab awakening. If anything, such sentences, in such a context, might be absorbed as a legitimate form of protest. That law was not a deterrent before, which should say something to the powers-that-be given that there hasn’t been a rash of flag or picture burnings in the past year of protests. But these kind of sentences can easily sway public opinion in the opposite direction. And more often than not, that’s exactly what they do.

The Centre for Strategic Studies polled 1,950 Jordanians on the state of the country, and the results were quite interesting. I won’t go in to the gritty details but some of the numbers that stood out for me included one where 60% of those polled believe the country is going in the right direction and 25% believe the opposite is true. I don’t much stock in that particular question, whatever the result may be, given that it is usually too broad and yields too conventional a response. But the more interesting numbers had to do with the judicial system.

According to the survey, 63 per cent of Jordanians believed that the executive authority and its bodies interfered in judicial rulings in 2011, compared with 56 per cent in 2010. Moreover, 61 per cent of the polled sample said individuals with political and economic influence also interfered in court decisions, compared with 55 per cent in 2010.

With court cases and rulings regarding corruption being the center piece of events in the past year, it is quite interesting to see how many Jordanians believe that our judicial system is not independent, and that such cases were politically-motivated or driven. That consensus does not bode well for the state of the rule of law in Jordan.

As for free speech and expression:

Around one-third (32 per cent) of the 1,950 respondents believed they could criticise the government in the open, a 13 per cent increase over last year’s figure. Regarding the best way to change government policy, 33 per cent of the respondents said demonstrations were the best option, 10 per cent favoured dialogue with the government and 7 per cent favoured using the media. Also, 78 per cent of the polled sample believe that public rallies are the most appropriate way to change a government should the need arise, although more than 90 per cent said resorting to violence to achieve this goal was not acceptable.

Even after a year of demonstrations and public criticism, the overwhelming majority of those polled still believe they cannot criticize the government openly (but I suppose it depends on what you mean by “government”). Moreover, the majority also do not favor demonstrations as a means of changing government policy, but an overwhelming majority also believe that demonstrations are the best way to change the government in its entirety!

The poll also seems to point out the utter loss in confidence in the Lower House of Parliament as a legislative body, with a significant number believing that parliament is not combating corruption or really influencing public policy, or, for that matter, truly independent from the executive branch.

A slim majority of 52 per cent said the Lower House was carrying out its role in terms of monitoring the government and holding it accountable, drafting laws and supervising public expenditures. In terms of the House’s ability to combat corruption and influence public policy, however, the percentage saying they were capable of doing so fell to 48 per cent and 46 per cent, respectively. As for the Parliament’s independence from the executive authority, 45 per cent of respondents said it was, but only 41 per cent believe that the House was doing a good job in connecting with the people.

Conclusion? The majority seem to think protests are not the way to go, unless you want to overthrow the government that is (non-violently), and the majority also seem to think that neither the judicial branch nor the legislative branch are truly independent of the executive.

Last Tuesday, upon flipping through a hardcopy issue of Al Ghad newspaper, I fell upon a strange article, which, loosely translated, was titled: “Kissinger: Deaf is he who does not hear the drums of war”. The piece is apparently based on an interview conducted by Alferd Heinz, reporting for an entity dubbed Global Research, and subsequently translated to Arabic by Al Ghad’s Ala’aldeen Abu Zeina. In it, Kissinger predicts an all out third world war taking place in the region, the result of which will see the American military taking over seven countries in the Middle East, whereby Iran will tip the balance and create a situation where – and I quote – “Israel will have to fight with all its might and weapons to kill as many Arabs as it can. Hopefully if all goes well, half the Middle East will be Israeli.”

The article is also filled with quotes from the Kissinger interview that include:

“Control oil and you control nations; control food and you control the people.”

and of course..

“If you are an ordinary person, then you can prepare yourself for war by moving to the countryside and building a farm, you must take guns with you, as the hordes of starving will be roaming”

“Our young have been trained well for the last decade or so on combat console games, it was interesting to see the new Call of Duty Modern Warfare 3 game, which mirrors exactly what is to come in the near future with its predictive programming.”

Photos by Reuters.

A pilgrim walks past a Jordanian flag after filling a plastic bottle with baptism water following a mass on the Jordan River.

Christian pilgrims wait to fill plastic bottles with baptism water after a mass at a baptism site on the Jordan River.

As an adjective, “pop” is typically defined as something that is sudden in nature; a phenomenon in a sense. It is often short-lived, but its transient shelf-life can last upwards of a decade (e.g. reality tv for instance). I’ve taken to using the term “pop patriotism” to help me personally define and understand the kind of patriotism that has erupted in Jordan over this past year. Patriotism and nationalism have always been around in Jordan, and have seeped in to our mainstream culture in various shapes or forms over the decades. From patriotic songs, to Jordan TV montages of people in fields (while patriotic songs play), to more nationalistic events like Independence Day, and more.

What has unfolded in the past year is quite different. It is the regular dose of patriotism, but on steroids. Primarily in response to the Arab awakening and its feared impact on the Kingdom, the kind of pop-patriotism that we’ve seen this past year is more along the lines of a “with us or against us” offense, than as an expression of love for country. In other words, it has become a weapon used to threaten and intimidate other citizens. The phenomenon is understandable, given that people who feel threatened themselves will always resort to safe ground, become increasingly xenophobic in nature, and feel the need to take on a warlike mentality towards those who disagree with them in opinion.

Pop-patriotism is difficult to put in words, and those who live in Jordan have likely experienced it one way or another. But I think the creative minds behind Kharabeesh have managed to articulate it quite well (with a healthy dose of comedy) in the above video. At the end of it, you kind of have to stop and say to yourself: wait, what happened? How did we get here?

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Footnote: for those unfamiliar with it, Kharabeesh is a local creative company that is home to some of the most creative minds in the country. Much of their work commenting on the Arab awakening, specifically with animations, has gone viral throughout 2011 and helped put Jordan on the map when it comes to regional, original, creative production, in ways that multi-million dollar animation companies have not. They sit comfortably on my personal top-100-things-I-love-about-Jordan list.

I’ve always felt that the pillar that tends to hold a country together is it’s justice system. Ours, while better than most, is far from perfect. The independence of the judiciary is constantly being tested by our executive (and legislative) branch, and often, high profile cases are immersed in the blurry gray, rendering it difficult to distinguish between who exactly is giving orders. This distorted relationship has been tested extensively this past year in the context of this ongoing domestic reeling, where combating corruption is at the top of protester demands.

Reading up on the Omar Maani case, both online and offline, I’ve managed to come to a few conclusions that have helped shape my opinion. The first is the fact that this entire conversation about Maani’s jailing has centered on subjective voices. They relate to the man, rather than the issue. Those that deem him innocent are his supporters, and those that deem him guilty are his opponents or even enemies. This subjectivity is to be expected, for the court of public opinion rarely takes in to consideration the broad spectrum of issues, nor their intricate details unless of course the media dictates otherwise. This subjectivity, or focus on the “man” over the issue, is also due to the second reality: a media blackout on the case. Realistically speaking, no one knows anything. We don’t know specifically what this case entails other than the ambiguous charge of “failing to carry out his official duties,” which was leaked to the media. Any details we “hear” from people who are “in the know” are at best, unverifiable, and at worst, rumors.

These two realities alone seem to paint a picture where no one really knows anything, and despite the knowledge gap, most of those vocal about the case are fairly subjective. And in Jordan, subjectivity takes on a whole new meaning, especially when a rally calling for your release is lead chiefly by your tribe. Even online, discussions taking place or groups being formed, are rather subjective.

Like everyone else, I have my own feelings with regards to Maani. I do think he was a relatively good mayor, especially compared to his predecessors. I do believe he did good things for the city, or at least sought to – which, again, is more than one can say about his predecessors. He is also somewhat noted for having “saved” the city from inevitable urban planning doom it was due to face from the influx of foreign investment (aka money laundering in some cases), which would have likely seen menacing towers going up in the middle of dense urban areas. Thanks to Maani and his team, much of Amman now has sidewalks, numbered buildings, clear street names, and bus stops. But I do believe like most Jordanian officials he was a terrible communicator. As many incidents in these past few years have shown, many of the policies undertaking by the Greater Amman Municipality, which impacted local communities in the Capital, tended to shut out those very communities from a public discussion.

However, personal feelings aside, looking at this case I see two things. I see a government that is scrambling to quell the domestic discontent, and the endless call for holding the corrupt accountable, and I see a judicial process influenced by the executive in an effort to meet those demands. In other words, there is a show being put on and we, as citizens, are all audience members. This approach isn’t something novel for the Jordanian state, nor most governments in most countries for that matter. When things get tough and the local discontent rises, people want to see heads roll, and any government interested in remaining in power (which is essentially the goal of any government, anywhere) will always be more than willing to make that happen; to march a sacrificial lamb to the guillotine in an effort to appease the hungry, maddening crowd below. Today, the guillotine is simply the justice system and the courtroom. Even in the US, for instance, we tend to see incumbent mayors, governors or even presidents, sporadically cracking down on crime around election time, in an attempt to gain favor with voters who see crime as a priority. It’s pre-emptive policy making, as opposed to our more domestic variety, which tends to be reactive; a half-measured afterthought.

I do not have a problem with holding people accountable or prosecuting the corrupt. In fact, I would argue that having mechanisms of accountability is at the core of my personal vision for Jordan. But in my mind, accountability comes through instilling a set of practices that ensure citizens, and officials are held accountable for their actions by systematic mechanisms, which are applied to everyone. It is a system based on social justice, where everyone is treated equally before the law, and no one is above it, or falls between its cracks. However, what we are seeing today is a far cry from such a reality. What we are seeing today is an arbitrary sacrifice; a showcasing, as opposed to a genuine pursuit of systems of accountability. And like most shows, it is designed to be crowd-pleasing, grandiose in nature, and more importantly, short-lived. The evidence of this is as clear as day. Accountability and the prosecution of corrupt officials has never been systematic, and if it was we would see a whole lot more of it, and we would likely see it in a more timely fashion rather than several years after the fact. Instead, it’s very, very recent. It’s also very, very rare. Especially when it comes to the more high-profile variety. 

So when it comes to the Maani case, or even the Shahin case, or even the Akram Abu Hamdan’s Mawared case – it is an event. Media blackouts are imposed to keep things interesting, rumor-driven, and subtle. When it comes to having public officials being held accountable, the citizens are never in the know. They are simply fed headlines and outcomes: guilty or not-guilty. The court of public opinion is shaped far from the judiciary, and this alone emphasizes the extent to which we are being offered an entertaining show, as opposed to a genuine national pursuit. It is why the two biggest “opinions” one hears these days with regards to the Maani case is either in the form of “Oh they must have something on him, or else they wouldn’t have thrown him in jail” – or – “He must be innocent. He did so many great things for the city.” Neither opinion is really valid or of relevance, but its simply the kind of opinion that emerges from a case that is more likely designed to serve as public entertainment. It is also why whenever a high profile person is prosecuted, you’ll often hear people say that this specific individual must have either fallen out of favor with the King or is the subject of an old score being settled by a current Prime Minister, or even “elected” members of the legislative branch. Such opinions are a clear acknowledgement by many, that the judiciary is not independent from the influence of the executive or the state, and can easily be influenced by either. In fact, the entire process can be influenced, even from its instigative origins.

And for the sake of the show, rules and rights are often bypassed to ensure that this show goes on, and that it remains entertaining. Investigations are held behind closed doors, decisions are made behind closed doors, charges emerge seemingly out of the blue, and allegations are thrown around arbitrarily, the outcome of which is a figure being held with or without charges, and denied bail and the opportunity to prepare their defense. In short, the policy that is undertaken for the sake of this show is one where everyone is guilty until proven innocent. Instead of the burden of proof being on the state, it is an obligation shifted to the accused, who must fight the premeditated guilty verdict thrust upon them.

When it comes to public officials being charged with corruption and marched to the courtroom, the majority of the public could care less. In authoritarian systems where mechanisms of accountability are either absent or neglected, the public is nothing more than a hungry mob, cheering, and thirsty for a fight. Few honestly care for systems, judicial review, or due process being upheld. This domain is usually left to the minority who care about individual rights and/or have the forethought to fear the precedent being set; to fear that they themselves could fall under the mercy of such a judiciary. For if a public official is deemed guilty until proven innocent, what chance does an average citizen have when faced with the same judiciary? It is only when the majority are faced with that question that they begin to see things in a different light:

If the Maani case has demonstrated anything thus far, it is simply this: a public official is being charged with corruption, and seems to be receiving a different kind of treatment from the court in an effort to uphold an appearance of a state being tough on corruption. In an effort to send a message to the public. In an effort to appease. In an effort to quell discontent. In an effort to entertain.

Whether Maani is eventually found innocent or guilty is, by now, almost entirely besides the point. What is relevant (at least to me) is this ongoing affirmation that the judiciary remains lacking in independence, that people are considered guilty till proven innocent, and that corruption cases remain opportunities for the state to appear serious without having to actually be serious about it. As a citizen who believes that the judiciary should never be a window-dressing platform, the Maani case is a harsh reminder that even in the domain of law and order, both can be rendered unreliable at a moment’s notice.

All of this begs the classical question: who will guard the guards?

In that sense, realistically speaking, 2011 in Jordan has been akin to running wildly through a maze only to find yourself back at the start again with that eerie sense of having spend the past year running in an endless circle. If I were to describe it emotionally, that would be exactly it. That’s the feeling. The realist in me looks at these 12 months as more of the same. From the public missteps to the political theater, it is incredibly difficult to identify something one could consider to be a major step towards progress on the political front. Looking back, I think some of the biggest highlights of the year have been largely driven by the people and non-state actors. Whether it is innovation, entrepreneurship, civil empowerment, or media, much of the advancement on these fronts has been driven from the bottom-up, and fortunately, there have been quite a few. But my focus is naturally on the public sphere rather than the private.

And in the public sphere, there is much to say.

A non-representative parliament that was voted in by a flawed election law – a law that the King himself has said requires reform – this parliament continues to speak in the name of the people. It is this same parliament that has spent much of the past year squabbling with itself and with two different government it has given a vote of confidence to. It is this same parliament that gets to amend reform-minded laws and the constitution – both processes which continue to take place behind closed doors. We’ve had two governments, the former of which spent a great deal of time trying to deal with a 2007 corruption case, the apparent smuggling of a convicted corrupt tycoon, while attempting to pursue other corruption cases. In fact, corruption seems to be the most discernible flavor of the year, and is a word seen on the majority of placards posters have held up since January 2011. Media blackouts on these cases have meant that assumptions are made by the public, many of them wrong, but moreover, it has meant that decisions and process have remained behind closed door, far from public consumption. Even the discourse that emerged from the most memorable “reform efforts” of 2011 were, at best controversial, and at worst, a waste of time. From whether public officials can carry dual citizenship, to fines imposed on media for corruption reporting, GCC membership (or lack thereof), etc.

Increased foreign aid. Increased expenditure on public sector salaries. Increased royal patronage. Increased tribal discontent and grumblings. Increased threats. Increased violence on university campuses. Increased blackmailing of the government. Increased government acquiescence. People shutting down entire towns to demand certain perceived rights.

All in all, we’ve seen an expansion of the status quo really, mostly in an effort to stabilize and maintain it. The biggest moves that paint a picture of something progressive have originated from statements issued by the King. But unless you’re someone who believes that this country’s problems can only be solved by the King’s magic verbal wand, then speeches don’t seem to be a good indicator of reform or progress.

On the street, people are scattered. Protesters continued to be dispersed, with scattered messages. The only purpose protesters have really served is to inadvertently act as pressure groups. I think by now everyone has a clear understanding of the fact that was quite evident nearly a year ago: toppling a government is fairly easy, but asking for reform is a whole other ball game. It requires organizing and a sense of consensus that is fairly limited in a country like Jordan where a public conversation has never really been part of the country’s discourse. Reform has always been (and continues to be) something that is perceived to be strictly in the hands of the state, and more specifically, in the hands of the King. Both loyalists of the status quo and those calling for reform – two groups at odds with each other – tend to see it this way. Unfortunately, they are largely correct in their perception. In a country where royal patronage and dependency thrives and dominates every institution – the environment that emerges is one where reform is seen as the King’s domain, because the King is the only one who can really deliver.

So, where are we? We’ve lost opportunities, time, and effort this past year. But what have we gained? As a people? As a country? Where is the light at the end of that tunnel? Where does the glimmer of hope lie? What has the Arab awakening really given us?

In my opinion, there has been one interesting gain from this time of upheaval, and that is greater freedom of speech and expresson.

Traditionally, during times of unusual regional duress, when events all around us make it very difficult for the country’s security apparatus to clamp down on domestic frustrations, we tend to experience a moment of relief. It is very much like a pressure cooker when the steam is let out momentarily; when it reaches a certain limit. Protests are permitted, people become more vocal, and even the media becomes bolder. But then the regional unrest dies down, and things go back to normal. It is a brief window of opportunity to vent out, and most people engage in it for exactly that purpose.

But this time, the window seems to have remained open. The Arab Awakening has made it a reality. And in doing so, the red lines are not only briefly crossed, but are being shifted, if not entirely broken in some cases. But more importantly, in the midst of this act, the culture of fear is slowly eroding. There continue to be backlashes, both political, security-related, and more prominently, social – but the erosion is happening. There are things being talked about today that could not imagine would have been discussed or publicly debated a year ago or more.

So what does this mean for Jordan?

The optimist in me, hopes it will translate to the establishment of new movements, new alternatives, new voices, new mobilizations, and hopefully, an era of community organizing. Some of this was already happening in small doses, if not entirely “underground”, long before January 2011, but this past year has given many the willpower to come out, to move, and to organize. Frank debates and discussions are happening in a manner that was all but non-existant only a year ago. If a year ago we were complaining that the online world is a bubble of political debate we wish could be seen offline, then that much has been accomplished these past few months, and for once the real world and the virtual world are looking a lot more like each other. This is a tremendous achievement when it comes to social and political progress, and is ironically the one achievement that the state cannot take much credit for other than having the good sense from not reacting in an outrageously violent manner.

How will this translate to tangible changes taking place today?

It won’t. At least not right now. But it is an important first step that has been missing from Jordan. My hopes is that it will yield better and stronger political parties, independent youth organizations that are alternative models to their co-opted brethren, a new legacy of activism, better media, and better discussions. My hopes is that it will end up breaking that culture of fear, and perhaps even force the security apparatus to retire its tradition of public interventions.

Right now it feels the country is still scattered, and those who disagree with each other are still doing what they’ve been brought up to do – that is, tearing each other apart for holding an opposing view. Movements still don’t know what they’re doing and are stuck in reacting instead of acting. But my hopes is that this window of opportunity will remain forcibly open, or at least long enough for the country to evolve past this distorted point and onto a plateau that is more common ground. It is a reform that is quietly happening bottom up, rather than top down, and it will hopefully set the groundwork for what’s to come, and what direction this country will eventually go.

Getting people to discuss, debate or even care about local political issues only a year ago was akin to pulling teeth. This year that public discourse has changed. It is messy, it is chaotic, and at times, acrimonious. But it is happening. And that’s important. That’s a prerequisite.

Looking back at 2011, and looking back at the arab awakening as the context and backdrop for much of what has happened domestically, this is the most I can glean from the status quo.

Lands registered in the HM King Abdullah’s name. It’s been an issue that is often talked about, just not in any documented fashion. Few in media want to touch a subject where the “King” and “public lands” are mentioned in the same breath, and so much of the public discourse has relied on fire breathing critics like Laith Shbeilat and the likes, to fan the flames. This also come on the heels of that infamous tribal letter that was issued last February at the advent of the Arab Awakening, whereby 36 tribal leaders essentially accused the King of giving public land to HM Queen Rania and her family.

So it was a rather predictable move by the Royal Hashemite Court to call a press conference a few days ago to essentially tell everyone that everything is ok, and that nothing fishy is going on. Reading the Petra news press release tells you everything you need to know about how the state is attempting to tackle this story. Another press release seems to have mistakenly found its way in to the Jordan Times editorial section (someone should contact them about that), but is also a good indication of what the state’s approach is. Upon reading the Petra piece, one gets the feeling that they’ve been had. That some sort of magic trick has just occurred and everyone in the audience is expected to nod their heads and go on.

According to the Royal Court Chief, Abu Karaki, this whole move to come forward and present information to the masses about these lands is an attempt to be “transparent” and “open”. Never mind that we are talking about land registrations that took place between 2000 and 2003, roughly eight years ago, but first of all, coming forward simply because people are talking about it isn’t being transparent; it’s being reactive. In fact, marketing this as an attempt at being transparent makes me wonder if the state has its own definition of transparency. The process is what needs to be transparent; presenting the people with “facts” eight years later because you can’t shake the story is closer to a confession than anything else.

What this demonstrates, if anything, is that nothing has changed in this domain.

The state still waits until stories build up steam, remains quiet, allows that steam to manifest in anger, frustration, accusations and even violence sometimes – and then coming out saying: “Here’s the real story. See! We’re being transparent!”. This formula is one we’ve seen happen over and over and over again. In 2008, we saw accusations building up regarding the sale of public lands for “private investments”, which in Jordan is a euphemism for “corruption”. The issue was left unaddressed until it spiraled out of hand and the King spoke up in an interview with Petra news to clear things up, specifically about rumors of the sale of Medical City lands. I would even argue that the 2008 case laid the groundwork for the present day, even those regarding Queen Rania’s brother, who has been accused of public land deals for over a year now. All of the stories refuse to go away, and the state’s response has not changed. I’m not sure why that is. There’s a possibility that they think this approach is a winning strategy.

As for the specific lands and why they were registered in the King’s name in the first place, well, that’s where it gets interesting. According to the Royal Court, a total of 4,827 dunums were all registered in His Majesty’s name during the 2000-2003 period only, with the vast majority of those lands being located outside Amman.

Why?

The only reason to register those lands in His Majesty’s name was to expedite and facilitate implementation of development and service programmes and projects in the regions where those lands are located, and was not intended in any manner for material or personal benefit, but rather for national developmental projects, Adaileh stressed. Concerned officials at the Royal Hashemite Court during that period proposed to register those Treasury lands under His Majesty’s name in order to speed up implementation of projects to improve the level of public services and directly benefit citizens in those areas

The reason given, nearly eight years later after the fact, will no doubt polarize opinions. There will be those who reject it outright and those that accept it completely, with the truth lying some where in the middle. The problem is, when you’re not being transparent from the start, it’s hard to convince people you were doing something for the public good nearly a decade later.

But regardless of what people choose to believe, in my opinion, the holy grail of this answer lies really in the fact that it was given as a valid answer at all. What this answer says to me is basically: there is usually a process whereby public lands are developed for the public benefit or used for investments, but because that process is either broken, slow, bureaucratic or what have you, the country’s treasury thought that things could get done quicker if they just registered the land in the King’s name. That’s essentially what this offered reason boils down to. The lands that belong to the public were registered in the King’s name in order to get things done; in order to bypass process. In order to cut through red tape and procedures. This is the reason they’re choosing to go with. That to me is far more important and interesting than whether one believes their offered reason or not. The fact that they offered it is a bold and public declaration of how the state thinks about transparency.

And thus, eight years later, in the name of “transparency and openness”, the public is informed that these lands were registered in the King’s name, in order to bypass the conventional system, in a manner that is far from transparent or open. The irony is self-evident.

I am positive that this will do little to quell or curb criticism, or those who have used this issue as a reason to hold a witch-hunt in search of corruption. But for me, the issue that is more important and more worthy of debate is that of transparency. Indeed, if there’s anything this entire ordeal has demonstrated it is the disconnect between the state’s definition of transparency, and the actual meaning; the actual manifestation. Transparency must be a mechanism that is immersed in the process, and that process must be law; it must be adhered to, not bypassed in the name of “getting things done”. If there’s something wrong with that process, the solution isn’t to go around it, and it isn’t to dodge transparency: the solution is to fix it. Transparency is not the act of offering people information nearly a decade after an event, motivated solely by the fact that it has become a lingering controversial issue. Transparency is a pillar that comes naturally with the process the state chooses to pursue, or doesn’t.

I am positive that there are those in the state who understand this completely. But, based on this case and others, we have yet to see any evidence of it.

One can only hope that some place, some where, a shift will happen.

Every year, HM King Hussein is quietly remembered on the day that he was born. If he had lived, he would have been 76 today. And while in past years throughout this last decade or so, such a day would have either gone unnoticed by me (I have trouble remembering my own birthday some times) this year is a bit different. This year it is almost impossible for me not to stop and reflect, even for a brief moment on King Hussein and ask myself the only question I cannot help but think about: what would Hussein have done?

In context of this Arab Awakening it is a pertinent question for most Jordanians. Far from the worshiping complexes that some in the Arab world have of their leaders, King Hussein, even in an objective light, was simply a man who had unmatched skills. In other words, whether it’s the lingering sycophants or the most abrasive critics, whether it was those closest to whom or those who considered him an enemy – most cannot reject the fact that he was a skilled leader. He often took strategic decisions considered unpopular by most, but did so with such passion, force and eloquence that it was difficult not to feel even a little inspired. When I think of a legacy of leadership, an entire body of work, I often think of King Hussein. I think of him on television during the bread riots in Karak during the mid 1990′s – sitting behind a desk, shirt sleeves rolled up, cigarette in hand, chastising rioters like a father to his misbehaving sons. It was a scene that has been marked on my memory.

The man had skills. The kind you get when you are able to survive through the most turbulent decades in the region’s history. If politics is a game, and the history of this region affirms that, then he was closest to a chess master as I’ve ever seen. And with that, one cannot but wonder if things would have been different today. Not only in Jordan, but maybe even the region. There have been numerous times this past year when I would reflect on an event here at home and wonder how King Hussein would have acted, in the same way that I find myself wondering in everyday personal situations how my father would act, react, behave, and respond. What decisions would he have taken?

Every leader faces the world in his own time, and in his own way. But on today of all days, I have to wonder: what would King Hussein do?

Q: If you look five years down the line, do you see yourself relinquishing some power to the parliament?

“Probably sooner. We haven’t shut any doors on relinquishing power. My mission is as quickly as possible to get Jordan to have a prime minister elected from a political party…We need to create new political parties based on programs…The Arab Spring didn’t start because of politics; it started because of economics — poverty and unemployment…What keeps me up at night is not political reform because I am clear on where we are going. What keeps me up at night is the economic situation because if people are going to get back on the streets, it is because of economic challenges, not political.” – HM King Abdullah [Washington Post]

It constantly feels that the conversation regarding the relationship between good governance and good economics is still largely missing in our national political discourse. They are deemed to be two separate things, when in reality, they are intertwined. After a decade’s worth of rapid economic shifts that have played to the benefit of the few and a burden to the majority, people have made the connection between the role politics plays in engineering a sustainable economy. King Abdullah may be right about the economic challenges being pertinent, but if one looks closely at the demands, politics is at the bleeding center of the wound. Unemployment is tied to job creation policy, is tied to investments, is tied to corruption. Low wages are tied to social inequity, the rise of elitism, the disappearance of the middle class and the public policy that made all of this possible, specifically in the past few years.

When people ask for an elected government, the primary driver is a request for a governing entity that not only offers alternative economic solutions, but allows those people to hold them accountable should they fail to deliver.

Enjoy, and have a good weekend!

Since the advent of the Arab Awakening, and the subsequent spotlight hovering over Jordan, one of the most frequent questions I get asked by foreigners interested in what’s going on here is the taboo of criticizing HM King Abdullah. I’ve found this question to be quite curious as it indicates that even non-Jordanians who are observers of local politics have perceived a shift in tone. It may go without saying that one of the advantages that has presented itself amidst this year’s regional upheaval has been the breaking of taboos and red lines. In Jordan, the monarchy has always been the ultimate red line. I’ve actually seen people get away with insulting God in this fairly conservative country, but avoid even a shred of criticism of the King.

I also view this question with some irony, as the King has expressed on more than one occasion that he himself is not above criticism. Whether people believe his proclamations to be genuine or not is besides the point. For when it comes to crossing red lines, it’s not the King that makes the phone calls, or comes knocking on anyone’s door. There is an entire system that does not allow for it, and this is generally what keeps the red lines bleeding red.

And thus, it is telling that while other taboos have been broken this year (who would’ve thought we’d be talking about a constitutional monarchy and elected governments a year ago?) the taboo that is the monarchy has been slow to thaw. Moreover, it some times appears that the same system, which maintained the taboo in the first place, has been the one that has allowed it to be broken slowly. One theory might suggest that direct critiques of the King have originated from the more “east banker” Jordanian tribes, which is long believed to be the monarchy’s bedrock of support in a country that is still struggling with identity and loyalty issues. To charge a Jordanian tribesman with “lese majeste” (which comes with a rarely enforced jail sentence) at a time like this would, in all probability, generate a very negative reaction, a reaction the state is probably not willing to risk. One can easily look to how the more tribal protesters have been treated by the security apparatus, the government, and even the media, as opposed to, say, the more Amman-based protesters. Both groups may share common demands for reform, and the tribal group may even be sharper in its critique and assault on the state and its various institutions, but this latter group will unlikely witness any adverse reactions or opposition from that state.

Nearly a year before the Arab Awakening, military veterans published a petition that was, by local standards, groundbreaking. Not only did they warn the King about the people he chooses to surround himself with (a more common critique these days) but they also alluded to the Queen’s involvement in appointing mostly “neo-liberal, elite, Palestinians” to key posts. Suffice to say, the petition made news. The fact that they were not only military veterans and retired servicemen representing tens of thousands, but also heavily tribal in origin, was enough to lend it credibility.

Fast forward to today and the critique seems to have evolved to new levels of confidence – for lack of a better word. In February, HM Queen Rania was the target of criticism from local tribes who demanded the King give back state lands given to her family. Such sharp critique may stem from the tone of the military veteran’s petition, which essentially targets those closest to the King, such as the Queen or his advisers, rather than go after the King directly. Some recent protests, such as those held in Tafileh, have seen public chants that essentially “warn” the King of what has happened to other Arab leaders in recent months, but fall just short of doing so directly.

A recent piece in The Economist stated the following:

Recently it has been plain that he can no longer depend so comfortably on the loyalty of the East Bankers, who still dominate the security forces and civil service. He relies ever more heavily on the army and the Mukhabarat, the intelligence service, to maintain his grip….

…Most Jordanians, including those inspired by the Arab awakening elsewhere, want to keep the monarchy, preferring to reform the system rather than overthrow it. But across the spectrum there is a growing rumble of dissatisfaction with the king. Invidiously nostalgic comparisons are made with his father, King Hussein, who reigned from 1952-1999. “No one knows who’s running the show”, says a former bigwig at court. “There’s a disconnect between government action and the royal court,” says a former senior minister. “The guy is drifting,” says a prominent local journalist. As the king seeks to appease his detractors, the government looks stuck. [source

One video that has garnered some online attention has come to personify the kind of criticism the King is recieving directly by those belonging to Jordanian tribes, and in this case Faris Al Fayez, who was part of a “reform event,” which was attacked recently. It also points to a public perception that has gone fairly unnoticed: more and more people are recognizing that the state is attempting to play the loyalty card in an effort to pit groups against one another, and while this has succeeded in some cases where demographic differences are apparent (Jordanian vs. Palestinian) it has essentially backfired amongst tribal members of this society, many who do happen to be reform-driven and don’t like to be called disloyal for being so.

This video is a segment of a larger press conference, which is featured in this Al Jazeera Report, where the final minute showcases some sharp critique (not necessarily tribal).

How will any of this criticism play out in the months to come? God only knows. Suffice to say, two realities are being cemented in the public pschye: while most want the monarchy to remain, many feel that it is no longer an institution that is beyond criticism. In other words, mere critique of the King should not be mistaken by the casual observer as signs of upheaval. Such thinking has managed to push the red line the farthest that it has ever been, and this may actually be a good thing for the King. Not only does it allow him to be perceived as welcoming of critique in contrast to other Arab leaders who have taken a more brutal approach, but, given its predominant source, can serve in emboldening a reform agenda.

The King has frequently stated as of late that the Arab Awakening represents the opportunity he has been waiting for; an opportunity to tell the naysayers “look, this is what the people want.” However, while the naysayers, who favor the status quo they derive benefits from, are unlikely to be swayed by any democratic aspirations, be they regional or local, they will probably view such bold critique as a dangerous sign from what is perceived to be the King’s most stable element of support. In other words, if what stands in the way of the King’s pushing of a reform agenda is, as he states, a group of people who have long rejected it for their own benefit, then the breaking of this taboo may be enough to scare them in to action. With the criticism being heavily tribal based, it offers just enough political cover to secure the monarchy as an institution, while allowing reforms to pass without harming that institution.

However, such a theory will depend largely on several things: that the criticism remain predominantly tribal, that the criticism remain warranted and/or reform-minded, and that the King will see it and thus play it to his advantage.

But it will also depend largely on it increasing in volume and/or reach, from its tribal base.

REUTERS: Manoubia Bou Azizi wipes her tears during an interview with Reuters at her home in Marsa district, north of Tunisia. The mother of Mohamed Bouazizi, the Tunisian man who set himself on fire in an act of protest which inspired the Arab Spring, urged the new leaders the country is electing on Sunday to honour her son’s sacrifice by helping poor people like him.

What it must feel like to be this man’s mother. Of her son, Manoubia said: “He is no longer the son of Tunisia, he is the son of the whole world.” Nothing could be truer.

Today, Tunisia makes me feel proud to be an Arab.

I hope Bou Azizi’s legacy is safeguarded.

The role of the Prime Minister in Jordan is probably the toughest one in the entire political spectrum of this country. Between the role of HM King Abdullah, the security apparatus, and various other institutions, it always feels like the PM job has limited executive powers, and is some times even perceived as the role of a middleman. And when it gets too hot in the kitchen, the PM and his cabinet is usually what’s served for dinner. This is to say nothing of the fact that they tend to face opposition from a public that didn’t vote them in, and often times such opposition even borders on hate. Lastly, with expiration dates that see governments generally lasting an average of 12 months, it’s very hard to get anything done, especially when it comes to long-term strategic goals. With those realities in mind, it was well predicted that anyone who stepped in to Samir Rifai’s shoes last January was going to be a sacrificial lamb.

Enter Bakhit, who came right out of the gate with a target on his back and spent a great deal of his tenure trying to rip it off; (case in point, casinogate). Nevertheless, Bakhit’s task was monumental. In the midst of a region where people were flowing in to the streets calling for regime change, it was Bakhit’s job to keep things under control here at home, while delivering on a reform program that, under normal circumstances, takes five years to implement, in the span of five months. It’s like missing all your classes and then having to cram a year’s worth of knowledge in three days just to pass the final exam. Bakhit entered the Prime Ministry in February and by late September had managed to turn pretty much everyone in the country against him.

So, enter Khasawneh. Compared to Bakhit, he’s an out-of-the-box choice; and I use that term with a grain of salt. What probably stands out most on his resume is his legal background, specifically having served as a member of the International Court of Justice in 2000, and as its vice president from 2006 to 2009. In other words, he doesn’t come with the type of political baggage other candidates who have filled the PM position have carried, allowing them to be targeted before they’ve even put their pencils in a jar.

Khasawneh’s appointment may be a subtle message that the rule-of-law will be respected, especially in the context of ongoing events where people have taken to violently close down main roads in order to hold the government hostage until it meets their demands. But more importantly, his appointment may offer just enough breathing space for a government to actually carry out an agenda efficiently and without getting bogged down in the politics. Khasawneh won’t have to take months to deal with old corruption cases like casinogate, or deal with an impeachment vote five months after being appointed.

And that’s what this can best be categorized as: an opportunity. Having had too many of those squandered in recent years, Khasawneh has the tough task of seizing this opportunity and putting the country on the right track. Aside from all the points highlighted in King Abdullah’s letter of designation (and then some), Khasawneh is faced with a population that is calling for reform, but also a population that has grown increasingly polarized in the span of just ten months. As columnists and commentators have pointed out in these past 24 hours since these changes transpired, the first step will lie in restoring public confidence.

My personal hopes is that this opportunity, this pause in the transition towards a post-Bakhit era, will encourage the government to postpone the municipal elections as well as take another look at the constitutional amendments. While all other reforms are important, these two important pieces were so rushed to the finish line that the process was shattered along the way. Much of that has been evident in the reaction that some have adopted towards the municipal elections thus far. The proper groundwork for proper elections needs to be placed, and attempting to hold elections in just over two months while new municipalities are still being formed due to public pressure is folly. Moreover, the constitution isn’t something that I, as a citizen, would personally like to see rushed. The constitutional questions that arise need to be grappled with, and it is in the debate that consensus and informed arguments emerge, and set the tone for what this country is about. Brushing them aside as has been recently done, and allowing the questions continued festering, is to create a ripple effect that will outlast this government. My hope is that Khasawneh’s judicial background will come in to play here, to help resolve these two issues.

As the government comes up to the surface for some air, the moves they make during this brief window of opportunity is what will quickly set the tone for the reform process. Much of this will depend largely on the government’s independence from other institutions in the country, particularly the security apparatus, which is commonly noted for its interference in policy. The King’s changing of the GID’s head may also be a head nod towards independence, allowing the government to function a bit more freely. But it’s in this arena that skepticism tends to lie. Much has been proven in recent years that no matter how much you make changes at the very top of the political ladder, the middle management whose task it is to implement, tend to originate from an apparatus that is intrinsically antiquated, and follows a specific traditional framework of doing things regardless of what the “upper-management” says or does. One can draw on the experience of Morocco and various other countries that instituted reforms only after massive housecleaning that targeted middle-management specifically. So, to what extent Khasawneh’s opportunity will not be squandered by interference from the security apparatus, or any other institution for that matter, will rely on the extent to which the country’s new GID head, Showbaki, will be successful on his own front.

As usual, I prefer to exercise cautious optimism.

This year’s Blog Action Day is dedicated to the issue of food. The most unsexy of issues. Seriously. War will always triumph over famine in media coverage and listeners’ attention. That’s just the way the world seems to work. Unless you personally (that’s right, you reading this right now) personally have a growling stomach and no avenue or mechanism of support to resolve that problem, be it right now, today, or in the next week, month and year – then you probably don’t care. If an earthquake happens tomorrow, killing hundreds or thousands, and generating an unnatural level of destruction, then the people of the world will generously move to lend their support, and even then, such movement is never nearly enough. But when famine breaks out somewhere, when a country is no longer able to feed its own people, there’s very little interest generated unless it is fueled by celebrities.

And this is all despite the facts. The kind of facts the paint a picture of a dire reality. I’ve always thought that people are always generally less interested in what’s happening “somewhere else”. As long as you have food on your table, what do you care for others that don’t in a foreign country? Maybe, for this issue to be taken seriously, a local context needs to be applied. But even then, the results are not always possible.

When it comes to the Arab world, Somalia tops the list. In fact, Somalia probably tops the list anywhere. Four million people are in crisis with 750,000 people at risk of death in the coming four months. For my generation, I believe we came in to this world with Somalia dominating the famine issue. I don’t recall a year when Somalia wasn’t suffering from a lack of food.

But closer to home, I was quite shocked (perhaps not so much) of a recent report that the volume of wheat the Kingdom produces is enough to last the country 17 days. Not weeks or months or years. Days.

To any Jordanian who knows the importance of bread to the daily diet knows the kind of catastrophe this spells. Anyone who lives here and has experienced the impact of major instability in the region can have locally, knows the extent to which this descent is disastrous. The Kingdom produces only 5% of its wheat needs, everything else is imported.

Agriculture in the country contributes some 3% of the GDP and has declined over the past 20 years. This doesn’t need economic analysis as much as it requires a person to drive through arable farmland where families used to produce enough food to not only sustain themselves but to earn a living, and see it vacant. The recipe for disaster consists of a wide variety of ingredients: less and less water, increasing desertification, increasing population growth, increasing migration (Iraq refugees for example), economic policies favoring imported goods, political policies encouraging comfortable government jobs over agriculture, and a general discerning attitude towards the agricultural sector. And on and on and on. Even Jordan’s Sudan landleasing deal from back in the 1990′s has experienced failure after the latter country began taking back its land based on Jordan’s inability to deliver its side of the bargain.

And in the meantime, we continue to suffer from price shocks, reflected in the rising price of food in the Kingdom, and the rising debt the government garners from subsidizing some staple goods.

The problems are plentiful, but what is needed is a conversation about the solutions. What is needed are ways of making this issue one that plays a dominant role in how we think as citizens. The divide between rich and poor is growing, and as it does, their respective bubbles become increasingly hardened. These bubbles need to be broken and pertinent national issues that govern our survival, specifically food and water, need to become exactly that, national. On everyone’s mind. This is the only feasible first step.

So the natural question to ask is: how do we get there? How do we make this a national issue; a national conversation?

…if you’re a blogger/tweep, you can start here.

When it comes to reform, Jordan may fare better than some of its regional counterparts, but if you’re a Jordanian and you hold the country to a higher standard, state-driven reforms are nothing short but a triumph of mediocrity. Case in point, the municipal elections. In another bid to tell the world “hey! look, we’re holding elections! everything is fine here”, municipal elections have been announced, and slated for December 27th. What has changed since the last municipal elections? Very little.

- Women’s quota was raised by 20%, and to those who still believe that a women’s quota has the ability to shift cultural mindsets I would point you to the glaring lack of evidence presented over the span of 20 years. But that’s another argument for another day.

- Municipalities will now receive 8% of fuel tax revenues instead of the previous 6%, a measure that was also taken to fund newly establish municipalities. As some economists have already pointed out, this will likely increase prices at the gas pump, thus making the poor even poorer.

- The cabinet cannot sack mayors of municipal representatives; a decision that is now in the hands of the judiciary, which makes little difference given that the latter has yet to demonstrate its independence, especially from politicized cases and issues.

- The minimum educational requirement for mayors is a passing tawjihi grade, and it’s nice to see the bar being raised so high. On the other hand, the Amman city council is the only municipal level entity requiring a minimum of a bachelors degree. Go figure.

- Last but not least, if a district has more than 5,000 residents, they can request the formation of their own municipality and/or the emancipation from a larger municipality. This specific article has recently become the equivalent of opening pandora’s box.

After the new law was approved, the government moved to create new municipalities by approving applications, but then stopped and announced that it would hold the elections first, and then decide on what municipalities to create/approve afterwards. Bakhit’s government claimed that adding new municipalities to country’s current 134 would take at least six months to pursue, and postponing the election is not an option. This flip flop decision angered many, who took to the streets to protest the move – by simply amending the law to allow for the creation of new municipalities automatically opened the door for many to go out and actually demand it. And about 24 hours after Bakhit said there would be no new municipalities, 99 new municipalities were created as a direct response to protester demands. Minister of Municipal Affairs Hazem Qashou was even quoted as saying: “In the next few hours we will announce the separation of more municipalities, particularly in areas of protests.”

Naturally, protests have continued now that people have become aware that the government is likely to cave should they take to the streets. Protests have been widespread, and predominantly tribal-driven. Yesterday, a town in south Amman rolled burning tires on to the airport road, with armed protesters shutting down the country’s main highway. Across town, another tribal-led armed protesters shut down the Amman-Azraq road, firing shots in to the air and even ended up injuring police. Similar road blockages have happened throughout the Kingdom in the past week, including Karak and Ajloun, where protesters have also threatened to boycott the election all together should their demands not be met.

The tribal element is quintessential. Generally, towns and districts in Jordan are dominated by specific tribes who make up the bulk of every respective town’s population. Tribes do not like to be governed by other tribes, and so tend to assert their autonomy in various ways. When the number of municipalities was drastically reduced through a national merging campaign a little under a decade ago, various districts, towns and cities found themselves under-represented. If a village is being governed by a municipal representative that lives two towns over, and belongs to another tribe, then they are likely to see little of the funding that is allocated to the municipality, which will favor the elected representative’s own locale. Some times it is indeed a matter of geography meets financial priorities, and in other cases, some have claimed that representatives play tribal favorites. Both are probably true. In essence, what is happening now is a calibration of local governance, with every tribe and town taking its share of the pie.

What makes this all worse is the fact that as the government moves to rapidly merge municipalities or create new ones in an outlandish attempt to approve more tribal declarations of independence, there will likely be new foul ups due to the fact that the applications will not be carefully studied. And naturally, this will lead to new protests from tribes who reject their new boundaries of governance.

There is perhaps some irony in the fact that by approving this simple amendment to the municipalities law, and by simultaneously insisting on holding elections as soon as possible without any form of genuine reform, or care for process – the government has dug an early grave for the elections. Even the ramifications of creating new municipalities while people are busy registering to vote is not clear.

These protests are not the typical so-called Arab Spring inspired variety demanding abstract paradigm shifts, such as an elected government. No, these protests are specific and on-the-nose; they are tribal-driven and target a specific policy that is being applied, which a great deal of people feel is unjust. No matter what one personally thinks, believes or feels with regards to these protests and the demands being made – they are, at the end of the day, undoubtedly a reflection of the fact that the government, system and process is broken. Even when it came to choosing a date for the elections the government seemed to forget that the tawjihi examinations start on the same day, and was forced to correct the mistake by postponing the exams (instead of the elections) in a demonstration of the left hand not knowing what the right hand is up to.

The push to hold these elections before the end of the year, come rain or shine, is indicative of a state that is focused more on getting a result (any result) rather than investing in the process, and doing things the right way. Even the country’s political opposition have called on the elections to be postponed until the right mechanisms are in place – so what’s the rush? Who are they looking to impress?

If anything, the government can turn this current mess into an opportunity and use it as a reason to postpone the elections by claiming that it needs to get the process right before it announces an actual date. Or, alternatively, it can stumble through these next few weeks, right over the cadaver of a shattered political process, and crawl to the finish line with the reform torch in its hand.

REUTERS: A Jordanian supporter of Syrian president Bashar al-Assad holds his picture as she shouts slogans against Turkey’s Prime Minister Tayyip Erdogan during a protest against Turkish intervention in the Syrian situation, in front of the Turkish Embassy in Amman October 9, 2011.

I know their numbers are incredibly limited in Jordan, judging merely by the numbers that show up to these “I Love Asad” pep-rallies and the ones that show up in opposition – but I’d really love to ask one of them a question I’ve just been dying to ask.

Why?

Senators have been forced to quit and ministers have handed in their foreign passports to their respective embassies. This has all been part of the latest constitutional amendment taking its toll, which states that public officials, including parliamentarians and ministers, cannot hold dual citizenship. The reason? Foreign citizenship allows officials to be protected by laws of foreign governments and thus cannot be held accountable by Jordanian laws. Suddenly, after all that has happened and continues to happen in the country, the Jordanian state is concerned with holding people accountable.

I was not inclined to say anything about this topic despite its growing controversy. I, like others, feel it has become another distraction that crowds out the more important issues – genuine mechanisms of accountability being one of them, and genuine pursuits of good citizenship being another. And as a dual citizenship holder, my opinion will likely be skewed. But then again, this is a blog, and possessing a personal opinion is kind of the whole point. So I’ll attempt to argue from a both objective and subjective view, and put aside the arguments that others have made pertaining to this being a discriminatory policy that contradicts the clauses of equality engrained in the constitution.

First, there are two arguments to be made: an economic one and a political one.

I think some of the most pragmatic Jordanians are those that managed to fortunately study or work abroad. Many of those people carry foreign passports and if they are working in Jordan’s political sphere, then the country, theoretically, stands to gain from their educational and professional qualifications. I might also argue that many of these people are genuinely looking to serve their country given the fact that despite a foreign citizenship they’ve decided to bypass better standards of living abroad to live and work in Jordanian politics. By eliminating these people from the picking, you now have a smaller and more filtered labor pool to choose from. The high echelons of the public sector will end up facing much of the problems that the private sector faces today: a labor pool of not-as-qualified candidates who are homebred and have little to no foreign experience.

In the private sector, having that foreign experience is always a plus simply because there is a general consensus that our educational system is a mess, and it is. Anyone who has studied here knows it, and anyone who has had the good fortune to study in both worlds knows the contrast very well. Thus, local employers seek out Jordanians with foreign experience over a local portfolio because of those qualifications, especially for the more senior positions. The way the private sector looks at the labor pool is, simply put, pure. It is apolitical and completely neutral, simply because the bottom line is always the profit margins. Hire better employees to gain higher profits. Politicize those positions, and you stand to lose.

Our public sector works in the exact opposite way. Pretty much every position in the government is politicized. Not just on the ministerial level but on every level. Even government beurcratic employees tend to gain their position through nepotism and connections, and their employment is usually secured for them by those possessing political power – be they ministers, member of parliament, senators, former officials, royal court officials, etc, etc. This methodogly of employment has of course demonstrated its faults time and time again. The unqualified will always be able to secure a job over the qualified. I would also argue that a great deal of those who are qualified and willing to pursue a low paying public sector job instead of a private sector job are more willing to forego the opportunity cost for a chance to genuinely serve. This is not to say that everyone who is qualified and wants a government job does so out of a desire to serve, but the number of people who genuinely want to serve increases by default of the meritocracy. In contrast, a great deal of unqualified secure public sector positions through nepotism simply because the private sector doesn’t want them, and government jobs come with a minimal safety net that the private sector, for the most part, has not been able, or willing to provide.

So the economic argument is quite simple: we are now encouraging a system where the under-qualified gain favor over the more-qualified, and thus further eroding any chance that our public sector may one day become a meritocracy. For good measure, I’ll emphasize again that these are generalizations but I believe that for the most part they are true even though they do not apply, obviously, to every single case. That said, those who do hold foreign citizenship and did come back to the country to genuinely serve politically, have now been given a disincentive to pursuing such goals. This door has been closed to them.

The political argument, in my opinion, is that this is simply another maneuver to engrain a cheap sense of loyalty in a country that has a major identity crisis, which is largely deliberately ignored by the state. It is just another way of questioning people’s loyalty to a country that is consumed with loyalty issues that border on the paranoid, if not xenophobic. If you are willing to give up a foreign citizenship to serve in government, then you are making the ultimate statement of loyalty. It’s very much like high school. You cannot divide your loyalties to two different cliques; you’ve got to pledge your loyalty to one group in order to be accepted at all. In lieu of genuinely tackling the identity question in Jordan, those appointed with the task have chosen instead to ill-define Jordanian identity, filling it with notions of “family units”, religious prerequisites, and singular citizenship. Creating a linear citizen in a globalized world.

If accountability was really the issue, this could have been resolved by establishing specific legal restrictions on those holding dual citizenship and public office without resorting to the country’s most rigid document, the constitution. Pursuing this through constitutional clauses is an indication that the issue stems beyond mere accountability objectives and more towards the loyalty question: the “Jordanization” of high political office. Now, the country’s most important document, one that determines the entire legal framework and operation of this Kingdom, is making an indisputable statement: dual citizenship means dual loyalties.

From a personal and subjective point of view, I’ll say this. I was born and, to some extent, raised in Canada. However, every inch of my being lies in Jordan. I feel very little connection to Canada despite all that it has offered me. Coming to Jordan at a very young age, a light bulb flickered on somewhere in my mind, and I felt a connection to something here that I did not feel anywhere else; a connection to my roots, and it was a novel feeling. Many people that I have spoken to who have similar backgrounds also had a similar experience, so I know I’m not alone. In fact, my parents were forced to retire early and move their entire existence to Jordan simply because during one summer vacation, at the age of 12, I refused to go back to Canada.

Anyone who graduates from university thinks about two things: establishing a good standard of living, and family. For those who studied abroad, many add a third factor – coming back to Jordan to serve the country in some capacity. This may seem trite or even sappy, but I can honestly say that many people I’ve come in to contact with over the past few years have held similar objectives. However, coming back to Jordan to serve means sacrificing the other two factors to a large extent; a willingness to accept a much lower standard of living and forgoing the family connection. For 20-something year olds this is a pretty big sacrifice to make during one’s so-called “transition years”. But this embodies my decision to come back to Jordan, and I think there are many out there who can claim the same thing.

With all that said, there is very, very little chance that I would ever sacrifice my Canadian citizenship simply to hold a government position. Why? While my connection to Jordan is much greater, certain realities will always dominate. If Jordan was able to offer me a tenth of what Canada has offered me, including universal health care, a progressive social security system, better and more affordable education, a universally-respected passport that allows for greater mobility, and the access to higher standards of living, then I might consider it. But it doesn’t. And it won’t any time soon. The fact that this very issue of dual citizenship is even an issue that was taken seriously and approved by the state is not only testimony to the fact that things are not progressing, but that the stage is being set for the country to actually start regressing. So for someone like me, an average citizen, to close that door of opportunity that I rely on as a safety net would be absurd. Not even the chance of securing a retirement package that pays out a monthly salary (at the public’s expense) long after I no longer serve.

I would assume that such a decision to relinquish foreign citizenship would be easier for HM King Abdullah, who I believe is entitled to a British passport by way of his mother, HRH Princess Muna, as well as HM Queen Noor who gave up her American citizenship – but to those of us who are ordinary citizens, other realities dictate the way we must live to secure a decent future for ourselves and our children. Dual citizenship is a way of doing so. No more, no less.

So, once again, a royally-appointed committee came up with a half-baked decision that was approved (and expanded upon) by a misrepresentative parliament that was elected through a flawed electoral law and stamped by a royally-appointed government, which has managed to fuel more social division over the identity question in this country than any of its predecessors during the past 30 years.

On the bright side, the private sector will, in due time, stand to possibly gain from all this as the small pool of qualified workers flow towards it, and away from a government arena that is not only dominated by nepotism (which already makes things difficult) but is now telling the qualified that their country’s constitution dictates that they have no chance for career advancement.

Stumbling on two articles today, I couldn’t help but note the connection.

Documents that have recently surfaced prove that Shell oil company worked alongside the Nigerian military to suppress local resistance to its oil activities. The company essentially paid off the military to stop peaceful protests that targetted Shell’s environmental travisties and it even helped plan raids on “opposing” villages. The result is well known of course – the death of thousands and a refugee crisis of civilians fleeing the violence.

The company has been sued many times over its conduct in Nigeria. Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch (HRW) say oil companies working in the delta, of which Shell is the largest, have overseen a “human rights tragedy”. Most of the alleged human rights abuses, they say, follow the companies’ refusal to abide by acceptable environmental standards. Despite the flood of lawsuits, cases can be delayed for years. Very few people are able to take on the oil giant, which has 90 oil fields in the delta where it has operated since the 1950s.[source]

While this all might sound like the work of economic hitmen, theories aside, the reality of the situation has always been quite evident. Multinational oil companies pillage a resource-rich country, and make sure the government of that country keeps its people in check. Which brings me to the second article:

Royal Dutch Shell PLC (RDSA) has drilled more than 100 wells in Jordan in the two years since it a concession agreement to explore for oil from the country’s vast oil shale reserves, a person familiar with the project said.

Shell signed a production-sharing agreement with Jordan in May 2009 and pledged to spend some $500 million for exploration, assessment and designs on the project. The project aims at exploring for and, if successful, developing and producing oil from Jordan’s vast oil shale resources that are estimated at 40 billion metric tons. Many analysts now see oil shale–an unconventional form of oil contained in difficult-to-extract reservoirs–as a serious rival to crude. [source]

Like pretty much everything in Jordan’s political sphere – strategies, visions and public policy is dictated without any consultation from the public arena. Whether it is amending our constitution, changing the election law or determining our energy future that includes nuclear energy, the local population is never consulted nor do they participate in the policy formation. Instead, we end up selling our resources to the highest bidder in the hopes of receiving very little in return, of which most of that revenue will go towards paying our national debt, which was caused and continues to be fueld largely by these policies in the first place.

And when the consequences eventually emerge and take their toll on local communities who are forced to oppose them – well, the result is, again, quite evident. But until then, we’re stuck with a multinational oil corporation digging around in our country, conducting experiments with its in-situ conversion process (and I emphasize the word “experiment” given that they’ve been doing this for 30 years now), and to top it all off, the company comes with a history of helping to brutally surpress local opposition to its work, to say nothing of its environmental track record.

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.” – Steve Jobs, 1955-2011

nuff said.

I’m here in Tunisia for the next four days at the third Arab Bloggers meeting, which has brought together what I think are some of the most significant digital voices in the Arab world today. It’s quite interesting to be in Tunisia, the first Arab country to gain its freedom from a tyrannical power and set the whole region ablaze with mass political movements.

The first day of the meeting is an agenda filled with speakers and panelist from the Arabian digital sphere, discussing everything from the role of twitter in the Arab spring, to mobile security, digital design and much more. The rest of the week will be a barcamp style meeting, where the participants dictate the agenda.

You can follow the hashtag #AB11 for a massive stream of tweets over the next few days, and I’ll be using storify for the first time on my blog to chronicle the event – Internet connection permitting.

NOTE: this is my first time using storify so it’s a learning experience befitting this conference I suppose. That said, if you’re following the story, I would advise reading it from the bottom up.

So the Hashtag Debates will be a good platform for people to come together to first and foremost learn about some of the changes happening via the knowledgable speakers, and secondly, to ask the key questions many of us have had building up ever since this endeavor was launched several months ago.

Makan Art Space/Jabal Luweibdeh, 8:00 pm.