بما أننا نتفاجأ بنسخة جديدة كل يوم للمقابلة فلا بد من التوضيح أن هذه هي النسخة التي ترجمتها و التي ظهرت أول مرة,
It is not necessarily good to be the king of a Middle Eastern country that is bereft of oil; nor is it necessarily so wonderful to be the king during the turmoil and uncertainty of the Arab Spring. It is certainly not good to be the king when the mystique that once enveloped your throne is evaporating.
But when a squadron of Black Hawk helicopters is reserved for your use, and when you are the type of king who finds release from the pressures of monarchy by piloting those Black Hawks up and down the length of your sand-covered kingdom—then it is still good to be the king.
One morning last fall, Abdullah II bin Al-Hussein, the fourth Hashemite king of Jordan, rolled up to a helipad situated close to the royal office complex in Al Hummar, on the western edge of the capital, Amman. He stepped out of an armored Mercedes—he drove himself, and drove fast, like he was being chased—and hustled to one of his Black Hawks. The king, who as a young prince served as a commander in the Royal Jordanian special forces, climbed into the pilot’s seat, talked for a moment with his co‑pilot, a trusted member of the Royal Squadron, and lifted off, pointing us in the direction of the rough, unhappy city of Karak, about 80 miles to the south. A second Black Hawk, filled with bodyguards, lifted off a moment later.
The king was flying himself to Karak, which is one of the poorer cities in a distressingly poor country, to have lunch with the leaders of Jordan’s largest tribes, which form the spine of Jordan’s military and political elite. More than half of all Jordanians are of Palestinian origin, with roots on the West Bank of the Jordan River, but the tribal leaders are from the East Bank, and the Hashemite kings have depended on East Bankers to defend the throne since the Hashemites first came to what was then called Transjordan from Mecca almost 100 years ago. This relationship has a coldly transactional quality: in exchange for their support of the royal court, the leaders of the eastern tribes expect the Hashemites to protect their privileges, and to limit the power of the Palestinians. When the Hashemites appear insufficiently attentive, problems inevitably follow.
Earlier that day, in his private office in Al Hummar, which overlooks the wealthy neighborhoods of West Amman, the king had explained to me the reason for the trip to Karak: he was trying, in advance of parliamentary elections in January, to instruct these tribal leaders on the importance of representative democracy. He wanted, he said, to see Jordanians build political parties that would not simply function as patronage mills but would advance ideas from across a broad ideological spectrum, and thus establish for Jordan a mature political culture. He said he would like to see Palestinians more proportionately represented in parliament. And he would like to do all this, he explained, without allowing the Muslim Brotherhood—a “Masonic cult” (as he describes it) that today controls the most formidable political organization in Jordan, the Islamic Action Front—to hijack the cause of democratic reform in the name of Islam. In other words, the king wants to bring political reform to Jordan, and to cede some of his power to the people—but only to the right people.
It was obvious to me that King Abdullah was looking forward to flying his helicopter—but not so much to the meeting that awaited him in Karak. “I’m sitting with the old dinosaurs today,” he told me.
The men he would be meeting—a former prime minister among them—were leaders of the National Current Party, which had the support of many East Bankers of the south, and which would almost certainly control a substantial bloc of seats in the next parliament. What the party stood for, however, beyond patronage and the status quo, was not entirely clear, even to the king. Shortly after the eruption of the Arab Spring, the king told me, he met with Abdul Hadi al-Majali, the leader of the party. “I read your economic and social manifesto, and it scared the crap out of me,” the king said he told Majali. “This makes no sense whatsoever. If you’re going to reach out to the 70 percent of the population that is younger than me, you’ve got to work on this.” The party manifesto, the king told me, “didn’t have anything. It was slogans. There was no program. Nothing.” He went on, “It’s all about ‘I’ll vote for this guy because I’m in his tribe.’ I want this guy to develop a program that at least people will begin to understand.”
The king landed his helicopter on a soccer field on the outskirts of Karak. The tribal leaders, many of whom had served Abdullah’s father, the late King Hussein, were lined up to greet the king as his motorcade traveled the short distance from the improvised landing pad to a large meeting hall. There were kisses and handshakes and protestations of loyalty to the throne, followed by a lunch of mansaf, lamb cooked in fermented yogurt. Although mansaf is usually eaten with the right hand, the left hand placed behind the back, forks were distributed in a concession to modernity. Still, the meal was eaten standing up around a long, narrow table, in the Bedouin tradition.
Then the business of the afternoon was conducted. The 30 or so men (and one woman, a daughter of one of the tribal leaders) sat on couches against the walls. Tea was served. The king made a short plea for economic reform and for expanding political participation, and then the floor was opened. Leader after leader—many of whom were extremely old, many of whom merely had the appearance of being old—made small-bore requests and complaints. One of the men proposed an idea for the king’s consideration: “In the old days, we had night watchmen in the towns. They would be given sticks. The government should bring this back. It would be for security, and it would create more jobs for the young men.”
I was seated directly across the room from the king, and I caught his attention for a moment; he gave me a brief, wide-eyed look. He was interested in high-tech innovation, and in girls’ education, and in trimming the overstuffed government payroll. A jobs plan focused on men with sticks was not his idea of effective economic reform.
As we were leaving Karak a little while later, I asked him about the men-with-sticks idea. “There’s a lot of work to do,” he said, with fatigue in his voice.
We boarded the Black Hawk and took off. I was seated behind the king. He asked me whether I wanted to make a detour: “Have you ever seen Mount Nebo from the air?” He flew northwest, toward the mountain from which, the Bible tells us, God showed Moses the Land of Israel. The Dead Sea shimmered just beyond. I suggested a quick detour to Jerusalem, which was 30 miles away. “The cousins like to have more warning,” one of his aides said with a smirk. “The cousins” are the Israelis.
The king seemed to be in no rush to return to Amman. As we approached Mount Nebo, we passed over the ruins of the ancient fortress of Machaerus, which was built by the Hasmoneans, and then rebuilt and enlarged by King Herod the Great in 30 B.C. Machaerus is where Herod’s son, Herod Antipas, is said to have delivered to Salome the head of John the Baptist.
“That Herod,” Abdullah said. “Quite a character.” I wasn’t clear on which Herod he meant, father or son, but no matter. Each one had his idiosyncrasies. “Not a role model for you?,” I asked.
“No,” he said. “I have different role models.”
The King's Palace in Al Hummar is not Herodian in scale, but it is still sizable, expensively decorated, and well shielded from the noise of the city below. The complex is attached to the King Hussein bin Talal Mosque, which can hold 5,500 worshippers. (Abdullah commissioned the mosque to honor his father.) Hummar is guarded by machine guns mounted on jeeps, and by members of the Jordanian Armed Forces Security and Protection Unit of the Supreme Commander. Inside the palace, Circassian guards, who wear black astrakhans and carry silver swords, stand watch outside his office.
Men in Bedouin dress carrying smoking incense burners move quietly from room to room. The many waiting rooms are decorated elegantly, adorned with photographs of the ruins of the ancient Nabataean city of Petra, and with portraits of the past kings of Jordan.
The palace complex is under the unforgiving control of the chief of royal protocol, whose staff works assiduously to maintain an atmosphere of silence and reverence. But the atmosphere inside the king’s private office, where I spent many hours talking with him in recent months, is one of unstudied informality. Abdullah has, in some ways, grown accustomed to the trappings of the throne—when I first met him, not long after he took office more than 14 years ago, he told me that being addressed as “Your Majesty” made him queasy; he seems to have, over the years, adjusted to this aspect of kingship—but he still dislikes ceremony and prefers blunt talk to politesse.
He seems in many ways to be a contradiction—an Arab king who happens to be a direct descendant of the Prophet Muhammad, evangelizing for liberal, secular, democratic rule. But Abdullah, now nearly a decade and a half into his reign, is, in his own conception, a political and economic reformer. He says he understands that the Hashemite throne, and perhaps Jordan itself, will not survive the coming decades if he does not move his country briskly toward modernity.
It is a small miracle, of course, that he is still in power at all. He has survived the first wave of the Arab Spring revolutions, which have so far claimed the leaders of Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, and Yemen, and will almost inevitably claim the Syrian president as well. But he has been roughed up in the process.
Geography has cursed Jordan. To Abdullah’s north is the charnel house of Syria, a failed state in the making. To his east is Iraq’s bloody Anbar province. Saudi Arabia, ruled by the superannuated princes of the House of Saud, the ancient rivals of the Hashemites, sits to his southeast. To his west are the obstreperous Israelis, as well as the disputatious Palestinians. Al‑Qaeda wants to kill him. The Iranian regime doesn’t like him very much either, especially since he denounced, in 2004, what he saw as a rising, Iranian-led “Shia crescent” looming over the Middle East. His country is broke, dependent on the United States, the International Monetary Fund, and haughty gulf Arabs to cover its budget. (The IMF recently forced fuel-price hikes that have intensified the domestic resentment directed at the throne.)
Demonstrations in Jordan’s main cities have been modest compared with those that led to regime change in Cairo and Tunis, but they have nevertheless been vociferous. Protesters have denounced the king as “Ali Baba,” and his family as the 40 thieves. They have made a special target of his wife, the stunning—and stunningly modern—Queen Rania, who is considered an icon of fashion and women’s empowerment in the West but is vilified at home. They have, on occasion, touted one of the king’s younger half brothers, Prince Hamzah, as an alternative to Abdullah. At the outset of his rule, Abdullah and Rania were broadly venerated. Not anymore.
Abdullah is a semi-absolute monarch—the country has a prime minister, and an elected lower house of parliament, but he can dismiss the prime minister and dissolve the parliament if he sees fit. Hiring and firing prime ministers has eaten up a lot of his time recently—he’s gone through six in the past five years—and he says he would like to remove himself from the process. “My blood pressure goes highest—my wife knows this—when we have to change governments,” he told me. “Whenever we go through that cycle, nobody is going to be happy.”
Abdullah kept repeating that he wanted to devolve power to an elected parliament, so I finally asked him whether he wanted a purely ceremonial role: “You don’t want to be Queen Elizabeth, do you?”
“Well, where are monarchies in 50 years?” he said. He clearly understands that monarchy is not a growth industry. But does his extended family understand this? The Hashemites are a small family, at least compared with the Saudi family. Still, he has 11 siblings and half siblings, as well as many aunts and uncles and cousins, each one a royal.
“No, members of my family don’t get it,” he said. “They’re not involved day-to-day. The further away you’re removed from this chair, the more of a prince or a princess you are. That happens in all royal families, I think. The further you are from this chair, the more you believe in absolute monarchy. That’s the best way of describing it. And that just doesn’t work.”
و هذه هي الترجمة
Monarch in the Middle
As the Arab Spring swirls around him, can King
Abdullah II, the most pro-American Arab leader in the Middle East,
liberalize Jordan
and modernize its economy, without losing his kingdom to Islamic
fundamentalists? The stressful life of a king amidst chaos.
Mar 18 2013, 6:56 PM ET
More
David Degner
It is still, on occasion, good to be the king.It is not necessarily good to be the king of a Middle Eastern country that is bereft of oil; nor is it necessarily so wonderful to be the king during the turmoil and uncertainty of the Arab Spring. It is certainly not good to be the king when the mystique that once enveloped your throne is evaporating.
But when a squadron of Black Hawk helicopters is reserved for your use, and when you are the type of king who finds release from the pressures of monarchy by piloting those Black Hawks up and down the length of your sand-covered kingdom—then it is still good to be the king.
One morning last fall, Abdullah II bin Al-Hussein, the fourth Hashemite king of Jordan, rolled up to a helipad situated close to the royal office complex in Al Hummar, on the western edge of the capital, Amman. He stepped out of an armored Mercedes—he drove himself, and drove fast, like he was being chased—and hustled to one of his Black Hawks. The king, who as a young prince served as a commander in the Royal Jordanian special forces, climbed into the pilot’s seat, talked for a moment with his co‑pilot, a trusted member of the Royal Squadron, and lifted off, pointing us in the direction of the rough, unhappy city of Karak, about 80 miles to the south. A second Black Hawk, filled with bodyguards, lifted off a moment later.
The king was flying himself to Karak, which is one of the poorer cities in a distressingly poor country, to have lunch with the leaders of Jordan’s largest tribes, which form the spine of Jordan’s military and political elite. More than half of all Jordanians are of Palestinian origin, with roots on the West Bank of the Jordan River, but the tribal leaders are from the East Bank, and the Hashemite kings have depended on East Bankers to defend the throne since the Hashemites first came to what was then called Transjordan from Mecca almost 100 years ago. This relationship has a coldly transactional quality: in exchange for their support of the royal court, the leaders of the eastern tribes expect the Hashemites to protect their privileges, and to limit the power of the Palestinians. When the Hashemites appear insufficiently attentive, problems inevitably follow.
Earlier that day, in his private office in Al Hummar, which overlooks the wealthy neighborhoods of West Amman, the king had explained to me the reason for the trip to Karak: he was trying, in advance of parliamentary elections in January, to instruct these tribal leaders on the importance of representative democracy. He wanted, he said, to see Jordanians build political parties that would not simply function as patronage mills but would advance ideas from across a broad ideological spectrum, and thus establish for Jordan a mature political culture. He said he would like to see Palestinians more proportionately represented in parliament. And he would like to do all this, he explained, without allowing the Muslim Brotherhood—a “Masonic cult” (as he describes it) that today controls the most formidable political organization in Jordan, the Islamic Action Front—to hijack the cause of democratic reform in the name of Islam. In other words, the king wants to bring political reform to Jordan, and to cede some of his power to the people—but only to the right people.
It was obvious to me that King Abdullah was looking forward to flying his helicopter—but not so much to the meeting that awaited him in Karak. “I’m sitting with the old dinosaurs today,” he told me.
The men he would be meeting—a former prime minister among them—were leaders of the National Current Party, which had the support of many East Bankers of the south, and which would almost certainly control a substantial bloc of seats in the next parliament. What the party stood for, however, beyond patronage and the status quo, was not entirely clear, even to the king. Shortly after the eruption of the Arab Spring, the king told me, he met with Abdul Hadi al-Majali, the leader of the party. “I read your economic and social manifesto, and it scared the crap out of me,” the king said he told Majali. “This makes no sense whatsoever. If you’re going to reach out to the 70 percent of the population that is younger than me, you’ve got to work on this.” The party manifesto, the king told me, “didn’t have anything. It was slogans. There was no program. Nothing.” He went on, “It’s all about ‘I’ll vote for this guy because I’m in his tribe.’ I want this guy to develop a program that at least people will begin to understand.”
The king landed his helicopter on a soccer field on the outskirts of Karak. The tribal leaders, many of whom had served Abdullah’s father, the late King Hussein, were lined up to greet the king as his motorcade traveled the short distance from the improvised landing pad to a large meeting hall. There were kisses and handshakes and protestations of loyalty to the throne, followed by a lunch of mansaf, lamb cooked in fermented yogurt. Although mansaf is usually eaten with the right hand, the left hand placed behind the back, forks were distributed in a concession to modernity. Still, the meal was eaten standing up around a long, narrow table, in the Bedouin tradition.
Then the business of the afternoon was conducted. The 30 or so men (and one woman, a daughter of one of the tribal leaders) sat on couches against the walls. Tea was served. The king made a short plea for economic reform and for expanding political participation, and then the floor was opened. Leader after leader—many of whom were extremely old, many of whom merely had the appearance of being old—made small-bore requests and complaints. One of the men proposed an idea for the king’s consideration: “In the old days, we had night watchmen in the towns. They would be given sticks. The government should bring this back. It would be for security, and it would create more jobs for the young men.”
I was seated directly across the room from the king, and I caught his attention for a moment; he gave me a brief, wide-eyed look. He was interested in high-tech innovation, and in girls’ education, and in trimming the overstuffed government payroll. A jobs plan focused on men with sticks was not his idea of effective economic reform.
As we were leaving Karak a little while later, I asked him about the men-with-sticks idea. “There’s a lot of work to do,” he said, with fatigue in his voice.
We boarded the Black Hawk and took off. I was seated behind the king. He asked me whether I wanted to make a detour: “Have you ever seen Mount Nebo from the air?” He flew northwest, toward the mountain from which, the Bible tells us, God showed Moses the Land of Israel. The Dead Sea shimmered just beyond. I suggested a quick detour to Jerusalem, which was 30 miles away. “The cousins like to have more warning,” one of his aides said with a smirk. “The cousins” are the Israelis.
The king seemed to be in no rush to return to Amman. As we approached Mount Nebo, we passed over the ruins of the ancient fortress of Machaerus, which was built by the Hasmoneans, and then rebuilt and enlarged by King Herod the Great in 30 B.C. Machaerus is where Herod’s son, Herod Antipas, is said to have delivered to Salome the head of John the Baptist.
“That Herod,” Abdullah said. “Quite a character.” I wasn’t clear on which Herod he meant, father or son, but no matter. Each one had his idiosyncrasies. “Not a role model for you?,” I asked.
“No,” he said. “I have different role models.”
The King's Palace in Al Hummar is not Herodian in scale, but it is still sizable, expensively decorated, and well shielded from the noise of the city below. The complex is attached to the King Hussein bin Talal Mosque, which can hold 5,500 worshippers. (Abdullah commissioned the mosque to honor his father.) Hummar is guarded by machine guns mounted on jeeps, and by members of the Jordanian Armed Forces Security and Protection Unit of the Supreme Commander. Inside the palace, Circassian guards, who wear black astrakhans and carry silver swords, stand watch outside his office.
Men in Bedouin dress carrying smoking incense burners move quietly from room to room. The many waiting rooms are decorated elegantly, adorned with photographs of the ruins of the ancient Nabataean city of Petra, and with portraits of the past kings of Jordan.
The palace complex is under the unforgiving control of the chief of royal protocol, whose staff works assiduously to maintain an atmosphere of silence and reverence. But the atmosphere inside the king’s private office, where I spent many hours talking with him in recent months, is one of unstudied informality. Abdullah has, in some ways, grown accustomed to the trappings of the throne—when I first met him, not long after he took office more than 14 years ago, he told me that being addressed as “Your Majesty” made him queasy; he seems to have, over the years, adjusted to this aspect of kingship—but he still dislikes ceremony and prefers blunt talk to politesse.
He seems in many ways to be a contradiction—an Arab king who happens to be a direct descendant of the Prophet Muhammad, evangelizing for liberal, secular, democratic rule. But Abdullah, now nearly a decade and a half into his reign, is, in his own conception, a political and economic reformer. He says he understands that the Hashemite throne, and perhaps Jordan itself, will not survive the coming decades if he does not move his country briskly toward modernity.
It is a small miracle, of course, that he is still in power at all. He has survived the first wave of the Arab Spring revolutions, which have so far claimed the leaders of Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, and Yemen, and will almost inevitably claim the Syrian president as well. But he has been roughed up in the process.
Geography has cursed Jordan. To Abdullah’s north is the charnel house of Syria, a failed state in the making. To his east is Iraq’s bloody Anbar province. Saudi Arabia, ruled by the superannuated princes of the House of Saud, the ancient rivals of the Hashemites, sits to his southeast. To his west are the obstreperous Israelis, as well as the disputatious Palestinians. Al‑Qaeda wants to kill him. The Iranian regime doesn’t like him very much either, especially since he denounced, in 2004, what he saw as a rising, Iranian-led “Shia crescent” looming over the Middle East. His country is broke, dependent on the United States, the International Monetary Fund, and haughty gulf Arabs to cover its budget. (The IMF recently forced fuel-price hikes that have intensified the domestic resentment directed at the throne.)
Demonstrations in Jordan’s main cities have been modest compared with those that led to regime change in Cairo and Tunis, but they have nevertheless been vociferous. Protesters have denounced the king as “Ali Baba,” and his family as the 40 thieves. They have made a special target of his wife, the stunning—and stunningly modern—Queen Rania, who is considered an icon of fashion and women’s empowerment in the West but is vilified at home. They have, on occasion, touted one of the king’s younger half brothers, Prince Hamzah, as an alternative to Abdullah. At the outset of his rule, Abdullah and Rania were broadly venerated. Not anymore.
Abdullah is a semi-absolute monarch—the country has a prime minister, and an elected lower house of parliament, but he can dismiss the prime minister and dissolve the parliament if he sees fit. Hiring and firing prime ministers has eaten up a lot of his time recently—he’s gone through six in the past five years—and he says he would like to remove himself from the process. “My blood pressure goes highest—my wife knows this—when we have to change governments,” he told me. “Whenever we go through that cycle, nobody is going to be happy.”
Abdullah kept repeating that he wanted to devolve power to an elected parliament, so I finally asked him whether he wanted a purely ceremonial role: “You don’t want to be Queen Elizabeth, do you?”
“Well, where are monarchies in 50 years?” he said. He clearly understands that monarchy is not a growth industry. But does his extended family understand this? The Hashemites are a small family, at least compared with the Saudi family. Still, he has 11 siblings and half siblings, as well as many aunts and uncles and cousins, each one a royal.
“No, members of my family don’t get it,” he said. “They’re not involved day-to-day. The further away you’re removed from this chair, the more of a prince or a princess you are. That happens in all royal families, I think. The further you are from this chair, the more you believe in absolute monarchy. That’s the best way of describing it. And that just doesn’t work.”
و هذه هي الترجمة
كما الدوامات الربيع العربي من حوله، هل يمكن للملك عبد الله الثاني،
الزعيم الأكثر تأييدا
لأميركا العربية في الشرق الأوسط، أن يحرير
الأردن ويحدث اقتصادها،
دون أن يفقد مملكته إلى
الأصوليين الإسلاميين؟ أنها الحياة المجهدة للملك وسط
الفوضى.
أنها ليست جيدة بالضرورة
أن تكون ملكا لدولة في الشرق
الأوسط
مجردة من النفط، كما أنها ليست بالضرورة رائعة أن تكون ملكا خلال الاضطرابات وعدم اليقين من
الربيع العربي. أنها
بالتأكيد ليست جيدة ليكون الملك عندما يلف الغموض العرش وتختفي الهالة المحيطة به.
ولكن عندما يتم حجز سرب من مروحيات بلاك هوك لاستخدامك، وعندما تكون ملكا من النوع
الذي يجد في الطيران تخفيفا من ضغوط النظام الملكي بأن تحلق صعودا وهبوطا طول
الرمال المغطاة الخاص المملكة،
عندما لا تزال
فكرة أن تكون الملك
فكرة جيدة
في صباح أحد الأيام في
الخريف الماضي، وصل
عبد الله الثاني بن الحسين، ملك الأردن الهاشمي الرابع،
الى قاعدة مهبط
للطائرات يقع على مقربة من مجمع المكاتب الملكية في الحمر ، على الطرف الغربي من العاصمة عمان. لقد كان يقود مرسيدس مدرعة بنفسه، و كان يقود بسرعة، كما لو كان مُطارداً. أندفع
إلى إحدى طائراته السوداء. جلس الملك
الذي يعتبر الأمير الشاب خدم
كقائد في
القوات الخاصة
الملكية الاردنية، في مقعد الطيار، وتحدث للحظة مع
الطيار المساعد، وهو عضو موثوق به من
السرب الملكي، ثم انطلق، باتجاه المدينة غير السعيدة و القاسيو: الكرك، على
بعد نحو 80 كيلومتر
إلى الجنوب. من عمان . انطلق طائرة هوك سوداء ثانية ، مليئة حراسه،
بعد لحظة في وقت
لاحق.
لقد كان الملك يطير بنفسه
الى الكرك، و التي تعتبر واحدة
من المدن الأكثر فقرا في بلد فقير جداً،
لتناول الغداء مع أكبر قادة القبائل في الأردن ، و التي
تشكل العمود الفقري للنخبة
الأردنية العسكرية
والسياسية. يتشكل أكثر من نصف الأردنيين من أصل فلسطيني لهم جذور في الضفة الغربية لنهر الأردن، ولكن زعماء القبائل هم من الضفة الشرقية، و يعتمد ملوك الأردنية على الشرق
أردنيين للدفاع
عن العرش منذ أن جاء الهاشميون لأول مرة لما كان يسمى شرق الأردن من مكة قبل 100 سنة تقريبا و تتصف هذه العلاقة لديه بنوع ب من البرود: ففي مقابل دعمهم للديوان الملكي، فإن قادة القبائل شرق
نتوقعمن الهاشميين حماية امتيازاتهم،
والحد من سلطة الفلسطينيين. و عندما لا
يظهر الهاشميون اهتماما كاف، فإن المشاكل تتبع حتما.
في وقت سابق من ذلك
اليوم، و في
مكتبه الخاص في الحمر،
الذي يطل على الأحياء
الراقية في عمان الغربية،
كان الملك شرح لي سبب
الرحلة إلى الكرك: لقد كان يحاول، قبل الانتخابات البرلمانية في يناير كانون الثاني التركيز لزعماء هذه القبائل على أهمية المشاركه بالعملية الديمقراطية. أراد، كما قال، أن يرى الأردنيين يبنون الأحزاب السياسية التي لا
تعمل فقط كما
لو كانت ببساطة مصانع رعاية و لكنها كذلك تقدم أفكاراً من
مختلف أنحاء الطيف الإيديولوجي الواسع، وبالتالي تأسيس لثقافة
سياسية ناضجة في الأردن. وقال
انه يود ان
يرى الفلسطينين أكثر تمثيلا نسبيا في البرلمان. وأوضح أنه يود
أن يفعل كل هذا،
دون السماح للإخوان المسلمي
("عبادة ماسونية، كما وصفها) و التي تشكل
اليوم التنظيم السياسي
الأكثر شراسة في
الأردن (حبهة العمل الاسلامي باختطاف
قضية الإصلاح
الديمقراطي في اسم
الإسلام. وبعبارة أخرى، فإن الملك يريد أن يحقق الإصلاح السياسي في الأردن،
وللتنازل عن بعض سلطاته للشعب، ولكن فقط إلى الأشخاص المناسبين.
كان من الواضح بالنسبة
لي ان الملك عبد الله كان متشوقاً
للتحلق بطائرات الهليكوبتر ، ولكن
ليس كثيرا للاجتماع الذي ينتظره في
الكرك. "أنا أجلس مع
الديناصورات القديمة اليوم،"
قال لي
إن الرجال الذين
سيكون فل الاجتماع _ من ضمنهم رئيس وزراء سابق_
هم قادة حزب
التيار الوطني، الذي يحظى بدعم العديد من سكان الضفة الشرقية في الجنوب،
والذي من المؤكد أنه ستكون له السيطرة على كتلة كبيرة من المقاعد في البرلمان المقبل. لكن لم تكن الفكرة واضحة
حول ما يمثله الحزب فعليا باستثناء المحسوبية و المكان الراهنة الظاهرة حتى للملك..
أخبرني الملك أنه التقى عبد الهادي المجالي زعيم الحزب بعد فترة وجيزة من
اندلاع الربيع
العربي. قال الملك للمجالي . "قرأت بيانكم الاقتصادي والاجتماعي، و أثار مخاوفي"، قال الملك المجالي. "هذا
لا معنى له على
الإطلاق. اذا كنت
تريد الوصول إلى 70 %
من السكان الذين
هم أصغر مني، عليك
العمل في هذا الشأن. "البيان الحزب، قال لي الملك،"
لم يكن لديهم أي شيء؛
كان البيان يحتوي شعاراتت؛ لم يكن
هناك أي برنامج. لا شيء. "وأضاف،" كل ما في الأمر أن الوضع هو 'سوف أصوّت لهذا الرجل لأنني في
قبيلته. " كنت أريد هذا الرجل أن يضع
برنامجاً ما، حتى تبدأ الناس أن تفهم
الوضع.
هبطت طائرة الهليكوبتر للملك على
ملعب لكرة القدم في
ضواحي الكرك. واصطف زعماء القبائل، وكثير منهم كان قد خدم أبا عبد الله، الراحل الملك حسين،
لتحية الملك لحظة وصول موكبه
من مهبط الطائرة
إلى قاعة كبيرة
للاجتماعات. كانت هناك مصافحات وقبلات
و هتافات الولاء للعرش، تلتها مأدبة غداء المنسف من الضأن المطبوخ في اللبن المخمر (الجميد). و على الرغم من أن المنسف
يؤكل عادة باليد اليمنى،
و تكون اليد اليسرى وضعت وراء ظهره، فقد وزعت الشوك وفي تنازل واضح للحداثة. ومع
ذلك، فقد تناولوا المنسف وقوفا
حول طاولة طويلة
وضيقة، وفقا لتقاليد البدو.
ثم كان اجتماع العمل بعد الظهيره. فقد جلس
30 رجلاً أو نحو ذلك (و امرأة واحدة،
و هي ابنة أحد زعماء
القبائل) على الأرائك مقابل
الجدران. وقد تقديم الشاي. وجه الملك كلمة
قصيرة للإصلاح الاقتصادي، وتوسيع المشاركة السياسية، وبعد ذلك تم فتح باب للنقاش. و بعد ذلك تقدم العديد الشيوخ و
الوجهاء الواحد تلو الآخر بتقديم طلباتهم
وشكاويهم. و من الشيوخ أو الوجهاء من هو قديم جدا أو لهم مظهر الكبار، وكانت الطلبات والشكاوى
من النوع البسيط. فقد اقترح أحدهم فكرة للملك لينظر فيها:
"في الأيام الخوالي، كان لدينا الحراس
الليلين في المدن.
يعطون العصي من الحكومة، يجب على الحكومة إعادة
هذه الوظيفة. للأمن و كذلك هذا من شأنه أن يخلق المزيد من فرص العمل للشباب ".
كنت أجلس مباشرة مقابل الملك في الغرفة، واسترعىت انتباهه لحظة فأعطاني نطرة قوية من عينية. فقد كان مهتما التكنولوجيا الفائقة والابتكار، وتعليم الفتيات، وتقليم الرواتب
الحكومية في الدوائر الحكومية. لكن
خطة اقتصادية تركز على وظائف
الرجال بالعصي لم تكن فكرته للإصلاح
الاقتصادي الفعال.
و بينما كنا نغادر الكرك
في وقت لاحق، سألته عن فكرة رجال مع-العصي. وقال "هناك الكثير من العمل يجب القيام به"، قالها مع التعب في صوته.
و بعد اقلاع الطائرة. ، كنت أجلس وراء الملك. سألني الملك غذا كنت أريد القيام بالتفاف
بالطريق "هل
سبق لك أن رأيت جبل نبو
من الجو؟ و " طار الشمال الغربي، نحو
الجبل الذي يخبرنا الكتاب المقدس، أن الله أظهر لموسى أرض إسرائيل.. كان البحر الميت يلمع خلفنا. اقترحت التفاف سريعة إلى القدس، والتي كانت تبعد 30 ميلا " فقط. قال أحد مساعدية بابتسامة
متكلفه" أن أبناء العمومة ترغب في الحصول على مزيد من التحذير "
" أبناء
عمومة" هم الإسرائيليون.
لم يكن الملك متعجلا للعودة إلى عمان. كا كان يظهر. و عند اقترابنا من جبل نبو،
مرت علينا على
أنقاض قلعة مكاريوس القديمة، والتي بنيت من قبل الحسمونيين،
وإعاد بنائها وتوسيعها من قبل الملك هيرودس الكبير في
30 قبل الميلاد
مكاريوس هو
المكان الذي يقال أن
ابنه هيرودس،
هيرودس أنتيباس، قد سلمت إلى سالومي رأس يوحنا المعمدان.
أن هيرودس "، وقال عبد الله. " شخصية هادئة." لم تكن واضحة اي
هيرودس كان يعني، الأب
أو الابن، ولكن لا يهم. كان كل واحد ما قدمه من
الخصوصيات.
سألت الملك
" أليس نموذجا يحتذى به بالنسبة لك؟".
قال "لا،" "لدي قدوة مختلفة."
قال "لا،" "لدي قدوة مختلفة."
لم يكن قصر الملك
في الحمر هيرودي في
الحجم، إلا أنه
كبير، و كانت زينته
باهظة، و محمي بشكل
جيد من ضوضاء المدينة أدناه. و يلتحق هذا المجمع بمسجد
الملك الحسين بن طلال، و الذي يتسع الى 5500 مصل ( لقد انشا عبد الله
هذا المسجد تكريما لوالده). يخضع لحراسة بالرشاشات على
سيارات جيب، و على أيدي أفراد من الأمن الأردني و القوات المسلحة و وحدة حماية القائد الأعلى. أما داخل القصر،ف الشركسية الحراس الذين يرتدون الأسود وتحمل
السيوف الفضية، يقفون خارج مكتبه للمراقبة.
هناك الرجال في اللباس البدوي
تحمل المباخر للتبخير
و تتحرك بهدوء من غرفة الى غرفة. وقد زينت العديد من غرف النتظار بأناقة ، بصور عن آثار
مدينة البتراء النبطية القديمة،
وصور للملوك الماضية
من الأردن
يقع مجمع القصر تحت
سيطرة من لا يرحم رئيس المراسم الملكية، التي يعمل موظفوها بدأب للحفاظ على جو من الصمت والخشوع. لكن الجو داخل مكتب جلالة الملك الخاص، حيث قضيت ساعات طويلة للحديث معه في الأشهر الأخيرة، هي واحدة من غير الرسمية غير المدروسة. عبد الله، في بعض النواحي، الذي اعتاد على
زخارف العرش، وعندما التقيت للمرة الأولى،
بعد توليه
منصبه أكثر من 14 عاما بوقت قصير، قال لي أن
مخاطبته ب "صاحب الجلالة" جعله غير قابل للهضم، و لكن يبدو أنه، و على مر
السنين، اعتاد على هذا الجانب من
الملكية، لكنه لا يزال يكره الرسميات و يفضل
الحديث صريحا وببساطة دون الرسميات.
كان الملك ييدو في العديد من المواقف في تناقض، فهم كملك عربي سليل مباشر للنبي محمد، يبشر يحكم ليبرالي ديمقراطي علماني. ولكن بالنسبة
لعبد الله، و هو الآن ما يقرب من
عقد ونصف العقد في عهده، هو ،في تصوره
الخاص، مصلح سياسي
و اقتصادي. يقول انه يدرك أن
العرش الهاشمي، وربما
الأردن نفسه، لن يكتب له البقاء على قيد الحياة خلال العقود القادمة
إذا لم يتحرك بخفة
بلاده نحو الحداثة.
إنها لمعجزة
صغيرة، بطبيعة الحال، أنه لا
يزال في السلطة وقد
نجا من الموجة
الأولى من الثورات الربيع العربي، والتي حتى الان أطاحت بقادة تونس ومصر وليبيا،
واليمن، وسوف لا محالة بارئيس السوري أيضا.. إلا أنه هوجم في هذه تورات هذا الربيع.
كانت الجغرافيا لعنة على الأردن. فإلى الشمال من عبد الله
هو البيت المشتعل من سوريا،
و دولة فاشلة في طور
التكوين. و إلى
الشرق له هو محافظة الانبار العراقية الدموية. المملكة العربية السعودية، التي يحكمها الأمراء كبار السن من آل سعود، والمنافسين القديماء لهاشميين تقع إلى الجنوب الشرقي له. و إلى
الغرب له الإسرائيليون العنيدون، وكذلك الفلسطينيون موضع جدال. تنظيم القاعدة يريد
قتله. النظام
الإيراني لا يحبه أبداً خصوصا انه ندد في عام 2004 ب"الهلال الشيعي الذي
تقوده إيرانو يتعاظم خطره ليخييم
على منطقة الشرق الأوسط. بلاده مفلسة،
تعتمد على
الولايات المتحدة، وصندوق النقد الدولي،
و عجرفة دول الخليج العربية لتغطية ميزانيتها. ( لقد الزم صندوق الأردن ابارتفاع أسعار الوقود و التي زادت
من الامتعاض
الداخلي الموجه
إلى العرش.)
و كانت المظاهرات في المدن الأردنية الرئيسية متواضعة مقارنة مع تلك التي أدت إلى تغيير النظام في القاهرة وتونس، ولكنها كانت مع ذلك صاخبة، وندد المحتجون بالملك ب "علي بابا"، و عائلته ال الأربعين حرامي.
لقد جعلوا زوجته
الملكة رانيا هدفا خاصاً.، ةهي المذهلة و مثيرة
الحداثة ، و التي تعتبر رمزا في مجال الموضة وتمكين المرأة في الغرب و لكنها مذمومة في البلد. لديهم، وقاموا في مناسبة معينة، بالمناداه بأحد إخوة
الملك الأصغر سنا نصف الشقيق ، الأمير حمزة، وذلك كبديل لعبد الله. لقد كان عبد
الله ورانيا معظمين ببداية حكمه و لكن. ليس بعد الآن.
عبد الله هو الملك،
شبه المطلق للبلاد؛ فالبلد لديها رئيس وزراء،
ومجلس النواب منتخب
في البرلمان، لكن يمكن لملك إقالة رئيس الوزراء
وحل البرلمان اذا كان يراه مناسبا. قد أكل توظيف وفصل رؤساء الوزراء الكثير من وقته؛ قام مؤخرا بتعيين ستة وزارات في السنوات الخمس الماضية، ويقول إنه يود أن ينأى بنفسه عن هذه العملية. يقول أن . "ضغط الدم
عندي يرتفع عندما يكون علينا أن نغير الحكومة، و
زوجتي تعرف
ذلك"، . وقال "كلما
نذهب من خلال تلك الدائرة، لا أحد سيكون سعيدا."
و يبقى عبد الله يردد أنه يريد أن نقل السلطة إلى برلمان منتخب، لذلك طلبت منه أخيرا
ما إذا كان يريد أن
يقوم بدور شرفي بحت: "؟
أنت لا تريد أن تكون الملكة اليزابيث، هل هذا صحيح؟"
"حسنا، أين الممالك في 50 عاما؟" قال. انه
يفهم بوضوح
أن الملكية ليست صناعة النمو. ولكن عائلته الكبيرة لا
تفهم هذا؟ الهاشميون هم
عائلة صغيرة، على الأقل بالمقارنة مع الأسرة السعودية.،
وقال انه لديه 11 أشقاء وأنصاف إخوة فضلا عن العديد من العمات والأعمام وأبناء العمومة، كل واحد هو من العائلة المالكة
"قال لا، أفراد عائلتي لا تفهم هذه الفكرة،"وقال
"هم يشاركون بالعمل اليومي. كلما ابتعد ازداد بعدك عن هذا الكرسي، كنت أكثر أميرا أأو أميرة. يحدث ذلك
في جميع العائلات
المالكة، على ما أعتقد. وكلما كنت بعيدا من هذا الكرسي، كنت أكثر
اعتقادا في الملكية المطلقة. هذا هو أفضل
وسيلة لوصف الوضع. و هذا لن يجدي شيئا. "
ليست هناك تعليقات:
إرسال تعليق