Middle East
The danger signal in the death of Feisal
Maurice Samuelson
• To judge from some of our local pundits, the saddest thing about the death of King Feisal of Saudi Arabia was that he did not fulfil his life-long desire — to see the Moslem Holy Places in the Old City of Jerusalem. Apart from being untrue — he was there in 1965 — it detracts from the full implications of his murder for the Middle East and the world in general.
When he became king eleven years ago, the Arab world was being torn apart by the revolutionary socialist forces, led by Nasser's Egypt, and the reactionary traditionalists symbolised by the Saudi dynasty. The flashpoint was in the Yemen, where Egyptian troops were backing the new republic against royalists backed by the Saudis.
With Britain preparing to quit Aden and the Gulf, both sides saw the prospect of an even wider conflict for control of the Arabian
peninsula. Behind these protagonists lurked the super-powers. Feisal was the west's man, Nasser the Kremlin's. The prize was access to the world's biggest oil servoirs.
In 1966, Feisal took the initiative. He called for an Islamic Pact to challenge the increasingly tattered banners of Arab unity, freedom and socialism waved by Nasser and the Baathists. Since previous attempts to forge Islam into a political weapon had ended in fiasco, Feisal's idea was not taken very seriously. In the end, though, he was to be partly vindicated.
Islamic unity was never so impressive as when Moslems heard of the shooting in Riyad on the birthday of the Prophet. The widespread mourning for Feisal fulfilled his dream of Islamic solidarity which had already brought reconciliation between Shi'ite Iran and much of the Arab world. Within this framework, the Arabs themselves had achieved a degree of harmony which eluded them in the stormy days of Nasser. Its axis was the close rapport between Feisal's Saudi Arabia, with its vast but fragile wealth, and Egypt, poor but populous.
In fact, the axis was being forged even before Nasser's death, thanks to the unifying effect of the 1967 Israeli victories. But under Egypt's Anwar Sadat, a traditionalist Moslem with a sneaking love of royalty, it was strengthened even further. It was thanks largely to his understanding with Feisal that, together with Syria, Sadat felt bold enough to launch the Yom Kippur war. For, with the world fuel balance in the hands of the producers, it was Feisal who wielded the sword of Islam on the political battlefield.
In the last year and a half until his death, Feisal wielded that sword with subtlety and restraint. He knew how to apply pressure on the Americans to hasten the first Israeli disengagement from the Suez Canal. But he also knew the risks of this double-edged weapon and, sensitive to the politico-economic effects in the west, wished to control the oil price spiral.
On the eve of his death, Feisal was contemplating the even greater dangers of a new Middle East conflagration. The Arab assault on Israel in 1973 ahd brought the oil sword out of its scabbard. But as a realist he knew there was no guarantee it would have the same effect next time. Its owner could lose control of it with unforeseen effects on his own side. Dr Kissinger's hints about possible American intervention to secure Middle East oil supplies had been no slip of the tongue. Saudi Arabia, engaged in vast arms purchases for itself and other Arabs, heard the threat with sober silence, As war talk was again heard on the Prophet's Birthday, Feisal recognised a moment of trial.' Never had his old caution been more in demand. But it was at this moment that he was struck down, leaving his brothers to face the challenge.
Yet t-he Arab-Israeli struggle was not the king's only headache. Far from it. Even if stability could be assured on that front, the world's biggest oil power would still face a mountain of dangers and difficulties. The astronomical wealth piling up in Saudi deposits can be a curse as well as a blessing. A Moslem of monolithic and simple faith, Feisal was suspicious of the gifts of the west. He abominated Israel far more for its westernism than its Judaism — though he often failed to see the difference. He made only modest gestures in the direction of secular reform. There were ever growing strains between his outlook and that of the younger western-educated Saudis, who chafed against his theocratic regime. Yet for others he was too reformist — his own killer has been branded as a young religious fanatic, not unlike Libya's Colonel Gaddafi, who had often called for Feisal's downfall. Since 1967 the kings and sheikhs have kept unrest at bay by ever larger hand-outs to the poorer Arab republics. But if the battle, were resolved, it might not be long before Arab jealousies would again supplant Arab solidarity. There is no lack of non-Arab forces who are fostering these divisions. Above all, the Russians are well entrenched in the Fertile Crescent. Were the Suez Canal reopened, their influence in Arabia would be felt with renewed force.
For the time being the fabulous Saudi realm seems secure. If Feisal's death causes no crisis, he' will be remembered as an even greater ruler than his father who founded the kingdom. In the longer run, though, his death will inevitably hasten the forces of change which may one day transform it out of all recognition.
When he died, Feisal was not only the most influential Arab ruler. He had been on the scene longer than almost any other politician in this century. A silent desert warrior, he w.ras nonetheless a man of the twentieth century. in 1919, he represented his father by visiting Britain — he was only fourteen, Six years later he became viceroy of the Hejaz and served as Ibn Saud's foreign minister for thirty years. He was at the ill-fated 1939 round-table conference on Palestine and headed the Arab delegations at the United Nations in 1947. Under his guidance, Saudi Arabia safely rode the waves of Arab revolution. But he was not a force for peace with the state of Israel and the dangers of the modern world still threaten the Saudi throne. His death is a danger signal for the west, which should not be ignored.
Maurice Samuelson was formerly editor of the Jewish Observer and Middle East Review
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