According to multiple press reports, European Union leaders are poised to choose Italy’s Foreign Minister Federica Mogherini as the EU’s next foreign policy chief at a summit on Saturday. A previous summit to discuss the position ended in deadlock in July when the Baltics and several Eastern European states objected to Mogherini due to concerns that she was too soft on Russia and lacked foreign policy experience, as she has only been in her position since January.

Now decision day has arrived and Italy’s Prime Minister Matteo Renzi is determined to push her candidacy through even if some disagree. As one EU diplomat told the Financial Times, “You still have a group of countries who will be quite unsatisfied, but they don’t have a blocking minority.” In a comment that could have been made by Stringer Bell in “The Wire,” Italian Minister Sandro Gozi previewed this strategy in July, saying, “The possibility of a majority vote ... is part of the game and cannot be ruled out.”

This highly consequential foreign policy decision is being made on the basis of criteria that have nothing to do with foreign policy. No one claims that Mogherini is the best person to deal with Russia but asking who is is not seen as a relevant question. The sharing of the spoils of several top jobs between the parties means that it must go to a socialist and Europe’s socialist leaders want to help Renzi. There is pressure to appoint a woman because EU leaders have failed to nominate women for other top posts or for the rest of the commission. Merkel had concerns but she is apparently willing to let it slide if it means stopping Italy from diluting the EU’s budget rules. Others are doing their own deals. The bottom line is that foreign policy is almost entirely absent from the discussion.

In normal times, this would be a bit unseemly but not outrageous. These are not normal times however. It is easily forgotten in Rome and Paris but Russia poses a real and near-term threat to some EU members—Latvia, Estonia and maybe even Lithuania. These states have asked for more assistance and support from their allies in NATO and from other EU members. They are deeply concerned by Mogherini’s nomination. Italy has strong economic ties with Russia and has frequently opposed tougher sanctions. Mogherini’s visit to Moscow early this year and her language of respecting Russian interests raised concerns about exactly what those interests are and whether she understands where the fault lies.

In a clear reference to Mogherini, Lithuania's President Dalia Grybauskaitė said that the EU must not pick someone who is “pro-Kremlin”—an exaggerated charge, perhaps, but indicative of the sensitivity and concern her candidacy has caused. But above all is the view that others are better qualified to deal with the Russian challenge—not just in terms of years clocked on the foreign policy beat but in the substance of what they say and do about it. Carl Bildt, Sweden’s foreign minister, is a leading example. Polish Minister of Foreign Affairs Radek Sikorski is another. Bulgaria’s Kristalina Georgieva, currently EU commissioner for humanitarian aid, would be a good compromise candidate.

One would think that the views of these member states would be taken extremely seriously by the rest of the EU. Instead, isolating and defeating them is just another “part of the political game.” Needless to say, this is not a game. It is the most serious security threat Europe has faced in over two decades. Two hundred and twelve EU citizens were killed by a Russian missile fired by Russian backed separatists in July. Thousands have died in Ukraine as a result of the war Russia started. And in recent weeks, Russian forces have begun a formal invasion of Ukraine.

It is mind-boggling that in a week when Russia opened a third front in Ukraine, European leaders are even considering appointing anyone other than someone with a proven track record of understanding and meeting Russia’s challenge, let alone a person who has consistently underestimated the risk. It’s as if a climate skeptic from the oil industry was to be appointed as environment minister.

It is true, of course, that the foreign policy chief, whoever he or she is, will not make EU policy. That will continue to be the domain of individual member states, especially Germany. But appointing the wrong person will do no good and may do some harm. Appointing the right person could serve the purpose of rallying the member states, pressuring them to stick to their previous declarations, and being a powerful voice for Europe’s values and its interests in a peaceful and free continent.

The EU owes it to its own citizens to make a decision of this magnitude solely on foreign policy grounds. It should not sell out the Baltics to keep the gravy train flowing. This is no time for business as usual.

Five years pass so quickly. It seems like only yesterday that EU leaders were emerging from an unseemly and apparently ad hoc appointment process to announce that Catherine Ashton, a member of the British House of Lords and a recently appointed European trade commissioner, would be the first-ever high representative for foreign affairs and security policy -- a sort of EU foreign minister. One existential currency crisis and two Russian invasions of Ukraine later, the EU is picking her successor.

With the passage of time and the rush of events, the stakes have become much higher. Yet the EU continues to select its leaders as if its postmodern continental paradise were not under siege from the south, because of the disintegration of the Arab world, and to the east, thanks to Russian aggression. Just like last time, the selection of the new high representative, Federica Mogherini, was undignified, full of haggling, and more focused on her gender, party affiliation, and nationality than on her actual qualifications for the job. And those are few: Mogherini emerged from obscurity just a few months ago to become Italy’s foreign minister.

Critics look at Mogherini’s lack of experience and assume that the EU’s underperformance in foreign policy will continue. This is a real possibility, and with crises brewing to Europe’s east and south, this is a particularly bad moment for the EU to descend into a bout of internal squabbling. But Mogherini can transcend the process that selected her and be the foreign policy representative the EU needs if she learns a few lessons from the recent past.

Back in 2009, pundits were filled with hope about the new EU foreign policy chief. The post was new and newly empowered to set up a diplomatic corps, the European External Action Service (EEAS). Against this backdrop, the choice of Ashton, an unknown British politician with no foreign policy experience, came as a cold shower. Her appointment reinforced the perception that the EU leaders’ stated resolve to raise the union’s foreign policy profile was rhetorical rather than real.

Although understandable, both the high expectations and the subsequent disappointment were misplaced. Even a high representative with an impeccable résumé would not have turned the EU into a foreign policy juggernaut. After all, the EU high representative is not a U.S. secretary of state with plenty of space to set U.S. foreign policy, but a bureaucrat operating within the much narrower limits of intergovernmental decision-making. In the EU, it is the member states -- not Brussels -- that make decisions on the most consequential issues of foreign policy.

Ashton has operated well within this limited sphere and carefully picked her issues. She has understood that the role of the high representative must change depending on the degree of agreement among the states. When there is a strong consensus, the high representative’s role most closely resembles that of a normal foreign minister -- he or she has great leeway to devise and implement policies. The 2013 normalization of relations between Serbia and Kosovo is a good case in point: there was sufficient consensus among member states that Ashton was able to spearhead an agreement between the two countries, for which she deservedly earned credit.

If there is a lack of consensus but also an imbalance of interest among member states, ad hoc groups of interested member states tend to take the initiative -- as did the United Kingdom, France, and Germany in 2003 on Iran’s nuclear program and Poland and Lithuania during Ukraine’s 2004 Orange Revolution. The high representative’s task here is not to lead but to help devise a policy course acceptable to all member states and, once the policy has been created, lend it the political weight of the whole EU. Ashton has carefully interpreted this role in the nuclear talks with Iran, which she has conducted on behalf of the P5+1 (the five permanent members of the UN Security Council plus Germany).

Finally, when member states have conflicting interests and all care about a particular issue, as they often do with regard to Russia, the high representative is limited to proposing lowest-common-denominator options that, however unsatisfying, represent what the EU can reasonably do. Ukraine, for better or for worse, is an example in which it would serve the EU little for the high representative to try to lead the member states to a destination that they have not (at least yet) agreed they want to go.

The high representative’s job description thus includes policy shaping, consensus building, and conflict management skills. The measure of his or her success is less a function of foreign policy chops than of the interpersonal skills the representative brings to the job. Measured against these requirements, Ashton’s record is decent. By the same token, there might be less reason to worry about Mogherini than some expect.

Mogherini is the high representative that EU leaders want. She is a woman, she is from the center-left, and she compensates the Italians for their recent losses in the international ranking of influential countries. Perhaps most significant, thanks to her lack of experience and high profile, she is unlikely to be able to challenge the member states’ principal role in EU foreign policy. Attesting to this is the fact that a number of EU member states agreed to her appointment despite having expressed concerns about Italy’s tendency to seek accommodation with Russia at a moment when Russia is invading its neighbor. However unhappy these countries may be with Mogherini’s selection, they are confident that her personal opinion on Russia will not affect the EU’s consensus-based foreign-policy-making process.

Mogherini’s weaknesses are real, but if she concentrates on what the EU high representative can realistically do, she can turn them into strengths. Her lack of defined policy positions on most issues will allow her to reflect consensus when it exists and to rely on the EEAS, which Ashton so assiduously built, to implement policies. This might make her an effective bridge builder between member states that disagree and also allows her to be more supportive than someone with a more established profile when vanguard groups of interested states want to move forward on specific issues on their own. Her lack of gravitas is more an issue of relative inexperience than a lack of personality. If she interprets correctly the multitasking role of the high representative, her standing will grow accordingly, as has happened with Ashton. Even on Russia policy, Mogherini has a unique opportunity. Although EU members are divided on what to do, Russia’s escalating aggression in Ukraine is slowly bringing them together. As an Italian associated with a relatively pro-Russian stance, her eventual calls to confront the Kremlin could be all the more effective.

The EU and the United States need a more unified and effective European foreign policy. But the EU is what it is. A U.S.-style secretary of state with a strong vision and lust for the spotlight would not transform the union because he or she would lack the legal authority and political legitimacy to do so. But a good high representative can still move the EU in the right direction, as long as he or she understands the subtleties of the role. And with the support of skilled advisers from the EEAS, Mogherini can be the high representative the EU needs.

This piece was originally published in Foreign Affairs.

Over the course of my career, I have watched Egypt’s transformation from an authoritarian state to a revolutionary one and back again. But last month’s murder of Italian graduate student Giulio Regeni (with some pointing fingers at Egyptian security forces) illuminates that today’s Egypt is even less safe, less free, and less tolerant than it was under Hosni Mubarak—an impressive feat. The disintegration in Egypt’s security environment could haunt the country and its leaders, as it will only push international travelers and researchers further from its shores.

Fear and loathing in Cairo

In 2010, shortly before the 2011 revolution, I lived in Cairo interviewing civil society activists and government officials on the ability of NGOs to challenge the Mubarak regime. I returned a few months after the uprising to a very different Egypt. 

In some ways, the environment had become more hospitable for discussing democracy and seeking honest assessments of the regime. Egyptians were still brimming with hope that the revolution would bring them the Egypt they had fought for and expressed overwhelming pride in their accomplishments in Tahrir Square. They were forthcoming with critiques of the former regime and inspired to begin by participating in politics, overturning the draconian NGO law, and founding innovative organizations to help usher in an era of democracy in Egypt. 

But in other ways, the conditions in Egypt had become dangerous. The security situation was precarious, as a post-revolutionary crime wave and general lawlessness keeping Egyptians at home and tourists away. For the first time, I hired a driver to ensure my safety. I was afraid to walk alone at night, ride the metro, or hang out in the same cafes I had frequented during my trips to Mubarak’s Egypt. 

Ironically, I was also far more cognizant of the security services in this new “freer” Egypt than I had been in past visits. The vestiges of Mubarak’s security apparatus remained, but they were operating under different and far more arbitrary and kinetic rules, making it challenging to identify—and avoid—redlines. I heard stories of NGO raids that were no different from the Mubarak era and possibly more punitive, with pro-regime security forces hoping to exact revenge on the activists who unseated their leader. Frustration and anger towards foreigners—governments, donor organizations, and even researchers—had emerged among civil society actors, who believed that Washington, in particular, was meddling in a process that was home-grown. Civil society activists whose NGOs had been fully reliant on international funding vowed to no longer take USAID money, for example. And although I was a full-time doctoral student with no ties to the U.S. government, some of those whom I interviewed distrusted my motives and saw me and other foreign scholars as inextricably linked to our governments. 

I heard stories of NGO raids that were no different from the Mubarak era and possibly more punitive, with pro-regime security forces hoping to exact revenge on the activists who unseated their leader.

Pining for yesterday

But the atmosphere in the immediate aftermath of the revolution was nothing like that of today’s Egypt. The murder of Italian national and Cambridge University student Giulio Regeni, who was last seen alive in Cairo on January 25 (the five-year anniversary of the Egyptian revolution), has sparked outrage around the world. The Italian ambassador to Egypt has said that Regeni’s autopsy revealed “clear, unequivocal marks of violence, beating and torture.” Egyptian security officials have admitted taking Regeni into custody. And while the Ministry of Interior subsequently denied such reports, Egyptian State Prosecutor Ahmed Nagi would not rule out police involvement in his murder. 

Despite the similarity of Regeni’s case to “widespread” reports of torture and forced disappearances by the Egyptian security services, we do not know for sure who is responsible for Regeni’s murder. Scholars across the globe have called on the Egyptian government to conduct a thorough and honest investigation. But regardless of the outcome, the very perception that students are no longer safe in Cairo has caused great harm to Egypt. The very fact that scholars, some of whom have studied Egyptian politics for decades, believe that the Egyptian Security Services could have committed this crime speaks volumes about the state of repression there. 

The very fact that scholars, some of whom have studied Egyptian politics for decades, believe that the Egyptian Security Services could have committed this crime speaks volumes about the state of repression there.

Not all press is good press

Regeni’s violent and tragic death and the Egyptian government’s response have far-reaching implications for Egypt. First, the sheer volume of attention on the Regeni case has caused harm to Egypt’s already decaying reputation. Abdel-Fattah el-Sissi’s regime is engaged in a crackdown on freedom of expression surpassing that of Mubarak. As the leadership of the Middle East Studies Association (MESA)—the most prominent academic organization on the Middle East—rightly note in an open letter to the Egyptian regime, Regeni’s case is not an exception, but rather the latest example of an increasingly vicious attack on freedom of expression in Egypt. As the MESA letter states, “human rights reports suggest that academics, journalists and legal professionals are in greater danger of falling victim to arbitrary state repression today than at any time since the establishment of the republic in 1953.” This was particularly true in the weeks leading to the anniversary of the Egyptian revolution, as the state sought to quiet any public discontent before it started. 

But unlike the hundreds of cases of forced disappearances and systematic torture of Egyptians in custody, the sheer brutality of Regeni’s murder and his status as a young, Western scholar, have made it difficult for Western states to ignore and have shed much needed light on the escalating attack on the rights and freedoms of both foreigners and Egyptians. Most clearly, Egypt’s relationship with an important political and economic partner, Italy, is tarnished. And the suspected state involvement in torture is now an issue that Western interlocutors must raise with their Egyptian counterparts, obliging the Egyptian government to address, or at least find a way to dance around, the issue.

the suspected state involvement in torture is now an issue that Western interlocutors must raise with their Egyptian counterparts, obliging the Egyptian government to address, or at least find a way to dance around, the issue.

Egypt’s foreign minister Sameh Shoukry happened to be in Washington when the circumstances of Regeni’s death was made public. His tone-deaf public responses were telling. He not only flatly denied that Egypt is engaged in a widespread crackdown on freedom of expression, he even compared Egypt’s critics, including internationally respected human rights organizations, to Nazi propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels. Shoukry’s response, so undiplomatic and divorced from reality, is unlikely to quiet Egypt’s critics. Rather, it will keep Regeni’s death (and the issue of security service abuses) in the international press even longer. 

This sort of public attention is something that the Mubarak regime would have taken seriously. Mubarak regularly acknowledged and attempted to diffuse, albeit often ineffectively, accusations of human rights abuses under his watch, often justifying repression in the name of security. But the Sissi regime’s response has been far less strategic, and this has potentially dangerous consequences. By ignoring the festering wound the regime has created for itself by torturing, jailing, disappearing, and killing those who speak out against it, the infection will spread, not disappear. 

Fading from view?

Another outcome of Regeni’s murder is that universities will steer their students away from studying in Cairo, traditionally one of the most popular destinations for American students of Arabic, and may discourage faculty from visiting as well. For the American University in Cairo (AUC), an institution known for high standards and academic freedom, the loss of foreign students and researchers could pose serious financial problems. 

That may not concern the regime, but it is not only AUC that will suffer from a deterioration of foreign contacts. Even prior to Regeni’s murder, some Western scholars believed it was too difficult and risky to conduct serious research in Egypt, and this trend will increase. Other scholars may still study Egypt, but will do so from a distance, rather than risking their lives on the ground there. 

This sort of public attention is something that the Mubarak regime would have taken seriously.

A dramatic decline in international academic contacts should worry the Egyptian government. This will greatly harm the world’s understanding of what is happening in a country that has proven time and again its importance to the region’s economy and political trajectory. Egyptian students and scholars will suffer as well, missing out on the important information and cultural education that comes from cross-border academic exchange. 

Not to mention that Egypt is in the midst of an economic crisis. Regeni’s death will likely keep Western tourists away, harming the tourism industry, which makes up over 10 percent of Egypt’s GDP, and which has failed to recover from dramatic declines during the revolution. 

A continued crackdown on freedom of expression and an increasingly dangerous environment for American and European visitors also has implications for Egypt’s diplomatic relationships. While Egypt’s history, size, and political role in the region will keep it on Washington’s radar, it risks joining the ranks of Somalia or Yemen or Libya—states with a limited (if any) diplomatic presence, and even more limited economic assistance package. The robust U.S.-Egyptian relationship—including several high-profile visits each year and a $1.5 billion aid package--is based, in part, on Egypt’s portrayal of itself as the “leader” of the Arab world and a country on the path toward democracy. If the Sissi regime continues to jail, torture, and murder its critics, including Western scholars, it will make it very challenging for the United States to continue this level of support. 

As Secretary of State John Kerry said last month following his meeting with Shoukry, Egypt is “going through a political transition. We very much respect the important role that Egypt plays traditionally within the region--a leader of the Arab world in no uncertain terms. And so the success of the transformation that is currently being worked on is critical for the United States and obviously for the region and for Egypt.”

The Egyptian government is underestimating the negative repercussions of Regeni’s death. Scholars like Regeni and me study Egypt and visit Egypt are driven by Egypt’s incredible history and because of its important cultural, economic, and political role in the modern Middle East. On my very first day in Cairo back in 2002, a kind Egyptian man took my hand and helped me cross the street amidst the infamously crazy Cairo traffic. When we safely made it across and the look of trepidation fell from my face, he told me to repeat after him, “Ana b’hib Masr” (I love Egypt). It was the first colloquial Egyptian phrase I learned and one I have repeated many times. But sadly, it is not one that I or other international researchers will likely be able to repeat in Egypt any time soon.

Although there has been some progress in forming a national unity government in Libya, “unity” is a rather inapplicable word for the country. In reality, friction between various political actors remains high. Ultimately, perhaps a form of disunity—confederation, rather than centralization—is the best model for Libya.

Libyan politics: A primer

During the summer of 2014, the Libyan leadership, after an initial hint of cooperation, split into two governments: 

• One, headquartered in Tobruk and based on a secular matrix, was recognized internationally. It received support from the House of Representatives and was abetted by General Khalifa Haftar and his so-called National Libyan Army. Externally, Egypt, the United Arab Emirates, and Russia have supported this government because of its anti-Islamist ideology. In May 2014, Haftar launched "Operation Dignity" against the Islamist militias, supported by the Zintan brigades (consisting of the Civic, al-Sawaiq, and al-Qaaqa brigades), and the militias coming from the ethnic minorities of Tebu and Fezzan.
• The other, headquartered in Tripoli, was Islamic in nature. It was supported by the new General National Congress (GNC) and was part of the Libya Dawn group of pro-Islamist militias (which included groups from Misrata, Amazigh, and Tuareg). Qatar, Sudan, and Turkey have supported this government for different reasons, including to earn a more prominent place on the global stage or to support the Muslim Brotherhood. 

But it gets more complicated, since it wasn’t just the Tobruk- and Tripoli-based governments that competed to fill the power vacuum post-Gadhafi. The constellation of militias and brigades has changed continuously. There are Salafist groups such as:

• Ansar al-Sharia Libya (or ASL, located between Benghazi and Derna); 
• Muhammad Jamal Network (between Benghazi and Derna);
• Al-Murabitun (in the southeast, around Ghat, Ubari, Tasawah, and Murzuq);
• Al-Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb (or AQIM, in the southwest and northeast of Libya); and
• Ansar al-Sharia Tunisia (or AST, located between Derna and Ajdabiya). 

Then in 2015, an Islamic State (or ISIS) cell—made up of about 3,000 Tunisians, Yemenis, Algerians, and Libyans, especially former supporters of the Gadhafi regime and members of Ansar al-Sharia—began to take hold in the city of Sirte, Gadhafi's hometown. Sirte is in an oil-rich desert area with tremendous strategic value, lying between the two regions of Tripolitania and Cyrenaica. And Misratan militias treated Sirte ruthlessly after Gadhafi’s fall, prompting many locals to welcome ISIS. So it was no accident that ISIS chose that spot, or that it stepped into the Libyan power vacuum more broadly: Libya is strategically important for eventually expanding across North Africa; it’s a launching point for criminal trafficking in the Mediterranean; and there is a potential to exploit huge energy resources, as ISIS has done to a degree in Iraq. 

Then in December 2015 in Morocco, the Government of National Unity (GNA) signed an agreement by which Fayez Serraj became prime minister. But General Haftar and the government in Tobruk didn’t support the move, and the security environment across the country is still abysmal. Despite the assurances from United Nations Support Mission in Libya (UNSMIL) Special Envoy Martin Kobler that Libya would achieve stability, Libya is still seriously fragmented. 

Today, the real fight is not even between Cyrenaica and Tripolitania, per se, because the two regions—along with Fezzan—are so divided internally. Serraj was barely allowed to arrive in Tripoli this March, for instance—only thanks to the intervention of the international community. The GNC (with Prime Minister Khalifa Gwell and President Nouri Abusahmain) immediately dubbed Serraj’s cabinet "illegal," but then a month later decided to disband in favor of Serraj’s GNA. The government in Tobruk, led by President of the House of Representatives Aguila Saleh Issa, has still not given his full endorsement.

Bright spots?

In spite of these political frictions, there have been small signs of progress. Foreign ministers from other countries and even the prime minister of Malta have arrived in Tripoli as a sign that the new political situation is formalizing. And while embassies remain closed, there is a sense that things are moving in a positive direction. Given this, in late April Serraj asked the international community to intervene in order to secure oil wells, theoretically protected by Jadran Ibrahim and his Petroleum Facilities Guard (PFG), a powerful allied militia in Tripoli. But while the international community has seemed ready—including the Italian government, which has taken a leadership role—accusations of local weakness and Western meddling complicate the Libyan political arena. 

ISIS, meanwhile, is suffering setbacks, having been attacked in Sirte from the south, west, and east by a collection of GNA forces, Misrata militia brigades, and the PFG. The GNA forces are currently in the center of Sirte, clashing with ISIS and gaining terrain every day. ISIS seems to be weaker than many thought (indicating that estimates of its numbers were wrong) and now may be fleeing south—to Fezzan—where its strategy can be more fluid and less based on territorial control. 

Re-considering the fragmentation problem

The persistent fragmentation in Libya is what is most worrying. Internal divisions are the product of decades of Gadhafi’s reckless governing—he kept his citizens from each other and from the rest of the world and deprived them of any solid governmental or administrative structure that could keep the country stable in the event of a "post-regime" moment. And looking even further back, it’s important to remember that Tripolitania and Cyrenaica were never aligned, even during the two decades of rebellion against Italy. The Italians used the old "divide et impera" (divide and conquer) strategy, digging real "furrows of blood"—in the words of British scholar Edward E. Evans-Pritchard in 1949—between Libyan tribes. 

And today? A serious agreement between the main political factions—the Government of National Unity and the House of Representatives—seems out of reach. Meanwhile, few of the fundamental institutions required for the development and governance of a modern country are in place. Libya has invested little in education, and both corruption and unemployment are off the charts. Despite immense energy resources, the economy is contracting. Oil production has declined from 500,000 barrels per day in 2013 to 300,000 in January 2016, and not because deposits have depleted. And tourism, it goes without saying, isn’t taking place. 

Fayez Serraj, Libyan prime minister-designate under the proposed unity government, attends a meeting with officials of municipal council of Tripoli in Tripoli, Libya. Photo credit: Reuters/Ismail Zitouny.

Instead, there have been thousands of deaths and a massive outflow of refugees. While UNSMIL’s efforts have been commendable, the international community should seriously consider how to do more in Libya. It’s better to devise and implement an intervention plan now than wait for a true emergency in Libya. The international community must think about and articulate a real strategy, not merely implement tactical operations. Given the dramatically deteriorated security situation today, it seems impossible to imagine a non-security related intervention, even in defense of the soldiers called to the simple mission of protecting the new coalition government. 

One approach to consider is helping Libyans build a confederal state, divided into three large regions: Tripolitania, Cyrenaica, and Fezzan (or perhaps more if the Libyan people deem it appropriate). Perhaps it is time that such provinces become more autonomous—following different paths as they choose, based on their unique ethnic, social, religious, and political origins. This is an extreme solution, of course. But it is clear that the international community, which had been so much a part of the Libyan revolution, cannot now permit the failure of Libya as a state.

The paradox of deconstructing to construct, in this case, can work. The long-advocated national-level solution of political unity does not, in fact, seem possible. Instead, a confederation of the three regions built on the original disposition of tribes and natural borders could probably assure a deeper stability. Regional governments could better protect local interests in security, economic reconstruction, and governance. The international community should thus start from the bottom, emphasizing local solutions, supporting local actors, and helping to empower Libyans to choose their leaders at a local level. This is not to rule out a central government someday, but would mean that such a government would be somewhat less influential. It’s an incredibly difficult and long plan, but probably the only one that can work. 

Now well into the final year of his presidency, President Barack Obama recently gave a surprisingly frank and poignant review of his foreign policy record in an interview with Jeffrey Goldberg of The Atlantic.

There were a number of notable takeaways from their discussion, such as Obama’s critique of European allies and their lack of follow-through in regard to the Libya conflict. But a central element of the discussion was Obama’s rebuke to many critics of his foreign policy. He complained that much of the “establishment” seems to have a foreign policy playbook that requires frequent and excessive use of force whenever a crisis arises that displeases the United States. Instead, Obama called for a much more restrained, selective, and strategic approach in the employment of American military power.

Making the grade?

In many ways, I think the president is right. As I have written before, Obama’s original and very lofty goals for his presidency have generally proven elusive. Barack Obama may not be able to heal the planet, rid the Earth of nuclear weapons, or stop the oceans’ rise as his signature legacies. 

But, in fact, there is a strategy, even if it is more often implied than explicit, and even if it falls short of the president’s own preferences of what writers and historians might say about his two terms in office. It is more mundane but nonetheless important. Obama is attempting to be strategic in the most literal and relevant senses of the word—defining priorities and holding to them, even when that makes him appear indifferent or indecisive in response to certain types of crises or challenges. Yet he has shown himself willing to employ significant amounts of force when persuaded that there is no alternative.

Consider just a few of the cases that seemed to be on the president’s mind in the conversation with Goldberg:

• Syria. Obama did not use force against Syria after President Bashar Assad violated his “red line” and used chemical weapons. Here I tend to agree with the president; the key point is that Assad had to give up all (or nearly all) of his arsenal. If that could be achieved without U.S. military strikes against chemical weapons depots, so much the better (there is more to say about Syria, however, and I return to that in a minute).
• Russia. Obama did not use force against Vladimir Putin in Ukraine. The president is right: Ukraine is not an American ally, and Russia has a larger stake in its future than does America. As such, economic responses are the preferred policy tool here as well.
• China. Obama stayed firm but restrained towards China in the South China Sea. He took longer to undertake freedom of navigation exercises in response to China’s growing claims than some would have preferred. But his no-drama Obama approach has been correct, as he has left little doubt that America is committed to freedom of these international waterways. 
• Afghanistan. Obama made it harder than it had to be, and still has not given U.S. forces adequate authorities to attack the Taliban. Moreover, the U.S. military footprint there is somewhat too small. But Obama ultimately and rightly concluded that America needed to stay committed beyond his presidency.
• Iran. There is no doubt: The Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action is preferable to a military conflict with Iran, even for those of us who think that the deal could probably have been negotiated with tougher and better terms.
• Iraq. Yes, Obama pulled U.S. forces out too soon—but he was willing to return in 2014 once the situation deteriorated.
• Libya. We mishandled this badly and left too soon after the fall of Moammar Gadhafi. Obama is right that European allies should have done more, but he is wrong to have assumed they would get it right on their own in the first place. If we’re assessing his worldview (as opposed to his actual record), Obama has been honest and fair and acknowledged a mistake at least—though, alas, he has not found a way to meaningfully correct the policy situation since 2011.

These cases add up to a far from perfect record. But they represent a much more credible foreign policy than Obama’s critics often allege. And he has avoided unnecessary escalation in a number of situations where a less judicious president might have erred.

I give Obama reasonable marks for carefulness and strategic thinking.

Finally, however, returning to the Syria issue: On balance, Obama has been more wrong than right. Yes, he achieved a modest success in eliminating chemical weapons. Yet the war has been a travesty. Staying out has not worked any better than President George W. Bush’s approach to Iraq (even if it has of course cost far fewer American lives). Worse, Obama seems to justify his Syria policy largely by invoking Iraq—as if the 2003 invasion and occupation there were the only alternative to his minimalist approach. There have been other approaches that would involve significantly more force than we are employing now, yet far less than we used in Iraq or Afghanistan. Obama continues to refuse to consider them seriously, hinging everything on a diplomatic process that is in many ways a substitute for a real policy.

So, as with any presidency, there is more work to do, and as with any president, there is no untarnished record of systematic accomplishment. But I give Obama reasonable marks for carefulness and strategic thinking. He has been a proficient commander in chief, and it is possible that we will someday badly miss his judiciousness.

Although there has been some progress in forming a national unity government in Libya, “unity” is a rather inapplicable word for the country. In reality, friction between various political actors remains high. Ultimately, perhaps a form of disunity—confederation, rather than centralization—is the best model for Libya.

Libyan politics: A primer

During the summer of 2014, the Libyan leadership, after an initial hint of cooperation, split into two governments: 

• One, headquartered in Tobruk and based on a secular matrix, was recognized internationally. It received support from the House of Representatives and was abetted by General Khalifa Haftar and his so-called National Libyan Army. Externally, Egypt, the United Arab Emirates, and Russia have supported this government because of its anti-Islamist ideology. In May 2014, Haftar launched "Operation Dignity" against the Islamist militias, supported by the Zintan brigades (consisting of the Civic, al-Sawaiq, and al-Qaaqa brigades), and the militias coming from the ethnic minorities of Tebu and Fezzan.
• The other, headquartered in Tripoli, was Islamic in nature. It was supported by the new General National Congress (GNC) and was part of the Libya Dawn group of pro-Islamist militias (which included groups from Misrata, Amazigh, and Tuareg). Qatar, Sudan, and Turkey have supported this government for different reasons, including to earn a more prominent place on the global stage or to support the Muslim Brotherhood. 

But it gets more complicated, since it wasn’t just the Tobruk- and Tripoli-based governments that competed to fill the power vacuum post-Gadhafi. The constellation of militias and brigades has changed continuously. There are Salafist groups such as:

• Ansar al-Sharia Libya (or ASL, located between Benghazi and Derna); 
• Muhammad Jamal Network (between Benghazi and Derna);
• Al-Murabitun (in the southeast, around Ghat, Ubari, Tasawah, and Murzuq);
• Al-Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb (or AQIM, in the southwest and northeast of Libya); and
• Ansar al-Sharia Tunisia (or AST, located between Derna and Ajdabiya). 

Then in 2015, an Islamic State (or ISIS) cell—made up of about 3,000 Tunisians, Yemenis, Algerians, and Libyans, especially former supporters of the Gadhafi regime and members of Ansar al-Sharia—began to take hold in the city of Sirte, Gadhafi's hometown. Sirte is in an oil-rich desert area with tremendous strategic value, lying between the two regions of Tripolitania and Cyrenaica. And Misratan militias treated Sirte ruthlessly after Gadhafi’s fall, prompting many locals to welcome ISIS. So it was no accident that ISIS chose that spot, or that it stepped into the Libyan power vacuum more broadly: Libya is strategically important for eventually expanding across North Africa; it’s a launching point for criminal trafficking in the Mediterranean; and there is a potential to exploit huge energy resources, as ISIS has done to a degree in Iraq. 

Then in December 2015 in Morocco, the Government of National Unity (GNA) signed an agreement by which Fayez Serraj became prime minister. But General Haftar and the government in Tobruk didn’t support the move, and the security environment across the country is still abysmal. Despite the assurances from United Nations Support Mission in Libya (UNSMIL) Special Envoy Martin Kobler that Libya would achieve stability, Libya is still seriously fragmented. 

Today, the real fight is not even between Cyrenaica and Tripolitania, per se, because the two regions—along with Fezzan—are so divided internally. Serraj was barely allowed to arrive in Tripoli this March, for instance—only thanks to the intervention of the international community. The GNC (with Prime Minister Khalifa Gwell and President Nouri Abusahmain) immediately dubbed Serraj’s cabinet "illegal," but then a month later decided to disband in favor of Serraj’s GNA. The government in Tobruk, led by President of the House of Representatives Aguila Saleh Issa, has still not given his full endorsement.

Bright spots?

In spite of these political frictions, there have been small signs of progress. Foreign ministers from other countries and even the prime minister of Malta have arrived in Tripoli as a sign that the new political situation is formalizing. And while embassies remain closed, there is a sense that things are moving in a positive direction. Given this, in late April Serraj asked the international community to intervene in order to secure oil wells, theoretically protected by Jadran Ibrahim and his Petroleum Facilities Guard (PFG), a powerful allied militia in Tripoli. But while the international community has seemed ready—including the Italian government, which has taken a leadership role—accusations of local weakness and Western meddling complicate the Libyan political arena. 

ISIS, meanwhile, is suffering setbacks, having been attacked in Sirte from the south, west, and east by a collection of GNA forces, Misrata militia brigades, and the PFG. The GNA forces are currently in the center of Sirte, clashing with ISIS and gaining terrain every day. ISIS seems to be weaker than many thought (indicating that estimates of its numbers were wrong) and now may be fleeing south—to Fezzan—where its strategy can be more fluid and less based on territorial control. 

Re-considering the fragmentation problem

The persistent fragmentation in Libya is what is most worrying. Internal divisions are the product of decades of Gadhafi’s reckless governing—he kept his citizens from each other and from the rest of the world and deprived them of any solid governmental or administrative structure that could keep the country stable in the event of a "post-regime" moment. And looking even further back, it’s important to remember that Tripolitania and Cyrenaica were never aligned, even during the two decades of rebellion against Italy. The Italians used the old "divide et impera" (divide and conquer) strategy, digging real "furrows of blood"—in the words of British scholar Edward E. Evans-Pritchard in 1949—between Libyan tribes. 

And today? A serious agreement between the main political factions—the Government of National Unity and the House of Representatives—seems out of reach. Meanwhile, few of the fundamental institutions required for the development and governance of a modern country are in place. Libya has invested little in education, and both corruption and unemployment are off the charts. Despite immense energy resources, the economy is contracting. Oil production has declined from 500,000 barrels per day in 2013 to 300,000 in January 2016, and not because deposits have depleted. And tourism, it goes without saying, isn’t taking place. 

Fayez Serraj, Libyan prime minister-designate under the proposed unity government, attends a meeting with officials of municipal council of Tripoli in Tripoli, Libya. Photo credit: Reuters/Ismail Zitouny.

Instead, there have been thousands of deaths and a massive outflow of refugees. While UNSMIL’s efforts have been commendable, the international community should seriously consider how to do more in Libya. It’s better to devise and implement an intervention plan now than wait for a true emergency in Libya. The international community must think about and articulate a real strategy, not merely implement tactical operations. Given the dramatically deteriorated security situation today, it seems impossible to imagine a non-security related intervention, even in defense of the soldiers called to the simple mission of protecting the new coalition government. 

One approach to consider is helping Libyans build a confederal state, divided into three large regions: Tripolitania, Cyrenaica, and Fezzan (or perhaps more if the Libyan people deem it appropriate). Perhaps it is time that such provinces become more autonomous—following different paths as they choose, based on their unique ethnic, social, religious, and political origins. This is an extreme solution, of course. But it is clear that the international community, which had been so much a part of the Libyan revolution, cannot now permit the failure of Libya as a state.

The paradox of deconstructing to construct, in this case, can work. The long-advocated national-level solution of political unity does not, in fact, seem possible. Instead, a confederation of the three regions built on the original disposition of tribes and natural borders could probably assure a deeper stability. Regional governments could better protect local interests in security, economic reconstruction, and governance. The international community should thus start from the bottom, emphasizing local solutions, supporting local actors, and helping to empower Libyans to choose their leaders at a local level. This is not to rule out a central government someday, but would mean that such a government would be somewhat less influential. It’s an incredibly difficult and long plan, but probably the only one that can work. 

A wave of retrenchment by global financial institutions may be undermining years of progress in providing the world’s poor with financial services.

What appeared to be only a vague concern a year ago is now front and center in discussions regarding global financial regulation. The reason: new regulatory and legal uncertainty regarding financial services, stemming from record fines levied on a handful of banks for failures to comply with international sanctions and anti-money laundering rules. A recent successful civil action in the U.S. against Arab Bank has further increased banks’ worries about their possible civil liability. Rightly or wrongly, the financial industry is reading these actions as raising the bar for compliance. As a result, we are seeing key and vocal market players use these developments to justify a wholesale retreat from services that are a lifeline for millions of people at the bottom of the economic pyramid.

For example, late last year a big bank in Australia sent letters to companies providing remittance services laying out a stark choice: close their accounts, or the bank would unilaterally shut them down. Accounts held by remittance companies have also been closed by banks in the U.K., the U.S., and New Zealand. If these remittances providers do not find alternatives, we may experience a global reduction in remittance services, and—due to reduced competition—increased cost to use those that remain in operation.

Remittance services are not the only targets. Trade finance and civil society organizations have also been affected. For instance, in the Netherlands an NGO involved in supporting the peace-building work of women's groups and women leaders in the Middle East and North Africa was recently refused a bank account by a large international bank. After the NGO explained to the bank that its work entails working with partners in the region, the bank decided not to provide a bank account in order to avoid any risk of funds (indirectly) ending up in Syria. And there are many examples like this, hampering the work of NGOs and humanitarian organizations, particularly in areas of conflict where they are most needed. In recent months, stories like this have become too numerous—and too widespread geographically—to be ignored; this is a global phenomenon.

This trend of account closures has become known as “de-risking”—a term that confuses more than it clarifies. Risk management, when properly carried out, is an essential and healthy component of running a bank. Under international financial industry norms, banks are expected to use a risk-based approach to evaluate whether to do business with a potential customer, and to monitor transactions for signs of suspicious activity. If there is a reasonable basis to believe a particular client creates significant risks regarding money laundering (ML) or terrorist financing (TF), a bank is fully justified in ultimately refusing to offer services.

 “De-risking,” however, is very different. The influential Financial Action Task Force (FATF), the standard setter for combating money laundering and terrorist financing, noted in an October 2014 statement that “de-risking refers to the phenomenon of financial institutions terminating or restricting business relationships with clients or categories of clients to avoid, rather than manage, risk.” The result, criticized by FATF, is the “wholesale cutting loose of entire classes of customers.”

Our concern lies not with the principle that some clients may be too risky for banks. Rather, the problem is the magnitude of de-risking. Current de-risking measures are excluding many clients that conduct legitimate transactions. And, because de-risking ends up pushing clients and transactions towards the informal and shadow financial system, it can actually increase global risks in this area.

It is therefore urgent for the international community to act. We need to better grasp what is really happening, and why. We believe that the solutions going forward will have to build on three pillars:

1. Public authorities need to provide more meaningful information on ML/TF risks to the financial industry, clarify their regulatory expectations, and adopt a genuinely risk-based approach in their supervisory and enforcement actions.
2. Financial institutions need to step up their understanding of the risks of their customer base, and direct internal control efforts accordingly. Risk management approaches should focus more on individual clients, and not write off entire sectors.
3. Countries with significant inflows of remittances need to improve the effectiveness of their regulatory regimes to combat ML/TF, and to provide more comfort to global financial institutions with banking relationships with clients in the developing world.

Millions of people in developing countries depend on remittances to help pay for basic necessities like food and shelter. In recent years we have seen important progress with banks and mobile network operators introducing innovative ways to serve the poor—including “mobile money” solutions that have enormous potential for enabling cross-border transactions. It would be a shame to see that trend reversed. Let’s not have those at the bottom of the economic pyramid pay for the criminal behavior of a few, and let’s make sure that enforcement action really targets the “bad guys.” Preserving access to the global financial system for the poorest and most vulnerable is a critical imperative, both economically and ethically.

On August 26, the Brookings Institution hosted a panel discussion of the findings of the 2015 Financial and Digital Inclusion Project Report and Scorecard. Chief among the report’s findings was the rapid growth of financial products and services targeted at the world’s unbanked population.  Much of the growth stems from innovations in digital payments systems and non-bank financial services.  For example, systems like M-Pesa in Kenya allow customers to store money on their mobile phones and easily transfer it to other M-Pesa users.  Advancing financial inclusion will greatly benefit the two billion people worldwide that still lack access to any financial services.

The report itself ranks a set of 21 countries on four continents chosen for their efforts to promote financial inclusion.  The criteria used to score each country include country commitment, mobile capacity, regulatory environment, and adoption.  The results show that several pathways to financial inclusion exist, from mobile payments systems to so-called “branchless” banking services.  Places that lack traditional banks have seen financial inclusion driven by mobile operators, while others have experimented with third-party agent banking in areas that lack bank branches.   

The panel drew financial inclusion and mobile payments experts from the government, industry, and non-profit groups.  Each panelist touted the benefits of financial inclusion from their own perspective.  Women especially have much to gain from financial inclusion since they have historically faced the most obstacles to opening financial accounts.  In developing countries, a mobile payments system grants women greater privacy, control, and safety compared to cash payments.  Traceable digital payments also make it easier to combat corruption and money laundering.  Salaries paid to government employees and transfer payments to low-income households can be sent straight to a mobile payment account, eliminating opportunities for bribe seeking and theft. 

According to the panelists, financial inclusion can also drive economic growth in developing countries.  As financial services expand, they will also increase in sophistication, allowing customers to do more with their money.  For example, a payments record can be used to establish a credit history for loan applications, and digital savings accounts with interest can help customers protect their wealth against inflation.  These same systems can also be used to provide insurance coverage, reducing financial uncertainty for low-income populations.

The proliferation of financial services has many benefits, but it will also create policy challenges if regulations do not keep up with financial innovation.  Requiring several forms of identification to purchase a mobile phone or open a bank account presents an obstacle to low income and rural customers that live far away from government offices that issue identification. Broad coordination between telecom regulators, ID issuers, banking authorities, and other government agencies is often necessary for lowering barriers to accessing financial services.

It is telling that many countries included in the report are looking to other developing countries for policies to promote financial inclusion.  The scarcity of traditional banks combined with new methods of accessing financial services opens avenues to financial inclusion not seen in most developed countries. Established banking industries and the accompanying regulations leave fewer opportunities for financial innovation, but countries with large unbanked populations can start with a clean slate. Over the next two years, FDIP will continue to monitor and report on developments in financial inclusion around the world.

Send comments on the 2015 FDIP Report and Scorecard and suggestions for future reporting to FDIPComments@brookings.edu.

An American drone strike that killed leader of the Afghan Taliban Mullah Akhtar Mohammed Mansour may seem like a fillip for the United States’ ally, the embattled government of Afghanistan’s President Ashraf Ghani. But as Vanda Felbab-Brown writes in a new op-ed for The New York Times, it is unlikely to improve Kabul’s immediate national security problems—and may create more difficulties than it solves.

The White House has argued that because Mansour became opposed to peace talks with the Afghan government, removing him became necessary to facilitate new talks. Yet, as Vanda writes in the op-ed, “the notion that the United States can drone-strike its way through the leadership of the Afghan Taliban until it finds an acceptable interlocutor seems optimistic, at best.”

[T]he notion that the United States can drone-strike its way through the leadership of the Afghan Taliban until it finds an acceptable interlocutor seems optimistic, at best.

Mullah Mansour's death does not inevitably translate into substantial weakening of the Taliban's operational capacity or a reprieve from what is shaping up to be a bloody summer in Afghanistan. Any fragmentation of the Taliban to come does not ipso facto imply stronger Afghan security forces or a reduction of violent conflict. Even if Mansour's demise eventually turns out to be an inflection point in the conflict and the Taliban does seriously fragment, such an outcome may only add complexity to the conflict. A lot of other factors, including crucially Afghan politics, influence the capacity of the Afghan security forces and their battlefield performance.

Nor will Mansour’s death motivate the Taliban to start negotiating. That did not happen when it was revealed last July’s the group’s previous leader and founder, Mullah Mohammad Omar, had died in 2013. To the contrary, the Taliban’s subsequent military push has been its strongest in a decade—with its most violent faction, the Haqqani network, striking the heart of Kabul. Mansour had empowered the violent Haqqanis following Omar’s death as a means to reconsolidate the Taliban, and their continued presence portends future violence. Mansour's successor, Mawlawi Haibatullah Akhundzada, the Taliban’s former minister of justice who loved to issue execution orders, is unlikely to be in a position to negotiate (if he even wants to) for a considerable time as he seeks to gain control and create legitimacy within the movement.

The United States has sent a strong signal to Pakistan, which continues to deny the presence of the Afghan Taliban and the Haqqani network within its borders. Motivated by a fear of provoking the groups against itself, Pakistan continues to show no willingness to take them on, despite the conditions on U.S. aid.

Disrupting the group’s leadership by drone-strike decapitation is tempting militarily. But it can be too blunt an instrument, since negotiations and reconciliation ultimately depend on political processes. In decapitation targeting, the U.S. leadership must think critically about whether the likely successor will be better or worse for the counterinsurgency endgame.

Saudi deputy crown prince and defense minister Mohammad bin Salman is just wrapping up a heavily hyped visit to Washington, aimed at reinforcing the kingdom’s partnership with the United States. Recent years have frayed what is traditionally the central strategic relationship for Riyadh, principally over the Obama administration’s nuclear diplomacy with Iran.

Since the conclusion of the Iranian nuclear deal last July, the perennial antagonism between Riyadh and Tehran has reached a dangerous pitch, fueling the violence that rages in Syria, Iraq, and Yemen and the undercurrent of instability that saturates the region. And the fallout of their rivalry has left its mark well beyond the boundaries of the Gulf, exacerbating volatile energy markets and, by extension, the global economy. 

Within OPEC, Riyadh and Tehran are eyeing each other warily, and their continuing differences torpedoed a proposed ceiling on oil production at OPEC’s latest meeting. The outcome was not surprising; a similar effort to agree on a production freeze between the group and a handful of non-OPEC producers fizzled in April. In the meantime, any incentives for drastic measures to address soft oil prices have abated as oil prices creep back up to approximately $50 a barrel. 

Iran and Saudi Arabia have plenty of reasons to continue pumping for the foreseeable future. Since the lifting of nuclear-related sanctions in January, Iranian leaders have been determined to make up for lost time and lost revenues, already defying expectations by quickly raising production to levels that hadn’t been reached since November 2011 and aggressively cutting prices in hopes of winning back its pre-sanctions export market. 

The centrality of oil to the legitimacy and autonomy of both regimes means that these plans are little more than publicity stunts.

Meanwhile, Saudi Arabia appears prepared to continue pumping at record-high levels, part of a larger strategy aimed at maintaining market share and driving down non-OPEC production. The two states’ economic incentives are compounded by their fierce geostrategic and sectarian rivalry, which has intensified, as evidenced by the standoff over Iranian participation in the annual pilgrimage to Mecca.

But even as the two states duel over oil production and prices, both Saudi Arabia and Iran are conspicuously planning for a post-oil future. Leaders in both countries have decreed an end to the era of oil dependency, endorsing ambitious blueprints for restructuring their economies that—if implemented—would ultimately transform state, society, and the wider region. The centrality of oil to the legitimacy and autonomy of both regimes means that these plans are little more than publicity stunts. Still, just imagine for a moment what it would mean for Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the Middle East if these grandiose agendas were adopted.

Competing and complementary visions

Tehran’s plan actually dates back more than a decade, with the 2005 release of its “20 Year Perspective” (sometimes called “Vision 2025”). The plan laid out extravagant expectations: rapid growth and job creation, diversification away from oil, a knowledge-based economy. Intervening developments—sanctions that targeted Iran’s oil exports and helped expand non-oil trade—have only bolstered the rhetorical commitment of Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, to a “resistance economy” in which oil exports constitute a minor part.

“One of our most serious losses is dependence on oil,” Khamenei bemoaned in a 2014 speech. “I am not saying that oil should not be used. Rather, I am saying that we should reduce our dependence on selling crude oil as much as we can.” 

Not to be outdone, Saudi Deputy Crown Prince Salman announced Saudi “Vision 2030,” to address what he described as “an addiction to oil.” The plan, which has met with equal doses of fanfare and skepticism since its announcement last month, aims to create a “thriving economy” and end Saudi dependence on oil revenues by 2020. Vision 2030 includes provisions to sell off a small stake in the kingdom’s state oil company, Saudi Aramco, and create the world’s largest sovereign wealth fund to manage the country’s income, as well as goals of creating 450,000 new private sector jobs, cutting public sector wages, and tripling the country’s non-oil exports all within the same abbreviated time frame.

Jeopardizing domestic stability

There is one hitch, however: these aspirations, though laudable, are preposterously unmoored from current political and economic exigencies. The institutions of governance and the structure of power in resource-rich states such as Saudi Arabia and Iran are organized around the state’s role as purveyors of vital social and economic goods. Riyadh and Tehran distribute cash handouts, provide jobs in already-bloated state bureaucracies, and levy few taxes. Diversifying away from reliance on oil would essentially require Riyadh and Tehran to radically curtail this distributive role, inviting historic social and political changes that could ultimately compromise regime ideology and weaken state legitimacy. 

[T]hese aspirations, though laudable, are preposterously unmoored from current political and economic exigencies.

In Saudi Arabia, the supply of these benefits is central to the monarchy’s legitimacy. To diversify away from oil, which currently accounts for over 70 percent of government revenues, Riyadh would have to drastically cut spending, far more than it already has. Not only would this further slash subsidies and hike fees, it would also effectively force Saudi workers—two-thirds of whom are employed by the state—to take up private sector jobs, 80 percent of which are currently staffed by expatriates. To accomplish this transition would require fundamental changes to the incentive structure for the Saudi labor force: a much broader willingness to accept low-skill, low-wage jobs, as well as the requisite improvements in education and productivity to support larger numbers of Saudi nationals moving into private sector positions.

For the Saudi economy to be truly competitive, Riyadh would have to initiate dramatic changes to a central component of the Saudi social compact—women’s rights and freedoms. The Vision 2030 document boasts that over 50 percent of Saudi university graduates are women and pledges to “continue to develop their talents, invest in their productive capabilities and enable them to strengthen their future and contribute to the development of our society and economy.” 

But the domestic Saudi labor force is overwhelmingly male, and even the plan’s modest aspirations to raise female participation in the workforce from 22 to 30 percent are likely to run into logistical and social obstacles. Shortly after announcing Vision 2030, Deputy Crown Prince Salman said Saudi Arabia is not yet ready to let women drive. A diversified economy will not emerge in the kind of constricted social environment mandated by the Saudi interpretation of sharia (Islamic law). 

Iran’s Islamic Republic doesn’t have the same degree of gender segregation, but Iran’s official interpretation of Islam has still constrained female participation in the workforce. Iran employs an equally low percentage of women—according to a 2014 U.N. report around 16 percent—and women’s unemployment is more than double that of men (nearly 20 percent).

A Saudi man walks past the logo of Vision 2030 after a news conference in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia June 7, 2016. Photo credit: Reuters/Faisal Al Nasser.

The bigger challenge for Iran will be truly opening up its economy to foreign direct investment. This remains hotly contested among the leadership, even in the aftermath of the nuclear agreement and the lifting of related sanctions. While there is some consensus around the need for foreign capital and technology, hardliners including Khamenei are determined to insulate Iran from any accompanying cultural influence and dependency. As the supreme leader recently inveighed, the global economy is “a plan and system that has been devised mainly by Zionist capitalists and some non-Zionists with the purpose of usurping the economic resources of the whole world...If a country merges its economy with the global economy, this is not a source of pride, rather it is a loss and a defeat!”

This deeply-rooted paranoia has provided a convenient platform for the Islamic Republic to galvanize citizens’ loyalty to the state and hostility to outside interference. And it also inhibits the liberalization that makes foreign investment possible: measures to enhance transparency and security, develop more attractive legal and fiscal frameworks, shrink the role of the state, and undertake an array of other structural reforms. Without these measures, Tehran will struggle to capitalize on its extraordinary reengagement with the world. 

While Saudi Arabia has maintained a more consistent and mutually beneficial pattern of foreign investment, its leadership too will have to revamp its approach if it is to broaden its economic base. For Riyadh, the challenge is less one of attracting foreign capital than of developing a sustainable influx of technology and expertise to develop sectors other than energy. The kingdom will also have to overcome serious regulatory hurdles and a proclivity for mammoth (and often white elephant) projects.

Compromising regional clout

Riyadh and Tehran will need to balance their economic aspirations and their approach to the region, too. Historically, their role in global energy markets has largely shielded both states from the fallout of regional instability. The world’s need for reliable oil at reasonable prices has inculcated the commitment of outside powers to secure transportation of resources and considerable autonomy for Riyadh and Tehran from the implications of their own policies. 

As a result, Saudi Arabia and Iran can fund nefarious activity across the region, violate the civil and human rights of their citizens and other residents, and carry out belligerent foreign policies without severe repercussions for their oil revenues. Only in the past five years has Tehran seen the limits of the world’s reluctance to jeopardize its investment with a major oil exporter; and the recent reversal of the U.N. condemnation regarding the Saudi-led coalition in Yemen demonstrates that Riyadh remains insulated.

Saudi Arabia and Iran can fund nefarious activity across the region, violate the civil and human rights of their citizens and other residents, and carry out belligerent foreign policies without severe repercussions for their oil revenues.

Regional developments make the prospect of economic diversification even less likely, as sensitivity to such developments will only increase if either country successfully develops its non-oil sectors. At the same time, regional stability is a basic prerequisite for economic diversification. Robust growth and good governance throughout the Middle East would provide the optimal context for the economic transformation of Iran and Saudi Arabia, since the marketplace for their non-oil exports is concentrated in the immediate neighborhood. But such transformation would require both countries to put economic priorities that serve their general populations above the ideological and religious agendas—supported by oil rents—that propel their regional and international influence and that provide a large portion of their autonomy in foreign policymaking. 

Technocrats in both countries understand this intuitively. At a 2015 conference on Iran’s economy, President Hassan Rouhani wondered “How long can the economy pay subsidies to politics?” He added that the country’s economy “pays subsidies both to foreign policy and domestic policy. Let us try the other way round for a decade and pay subsidies from the domestic and foreign policy to the economy to see [what] the lives and incomes of people and the employment of the youth will be like.” The problem, of course, is political will: neither country is prepared to elevate the interests of its people over the demands of ideology.

Imagining an unlikely future

Can either Iran or Saudi Arabia really kick the oil habit? It seems exceptionally unlikely. Even as Khamenei extols the need for inward-focused development, Tehran is racing to expand crude output level to four million barrels per day by March 2017. 

Oil enabled the creation of the modern Middle Eastern state and fueled the rise of both countries to regional predominance. Oil is a vector for their regional rivalry, and it provides prestige and funds to be used in other arenas of competition. A genuine diversification of the two largest economies in the Middle East and North Africa would jeopardize their revenue streams and domestic legitimacy, as well as their efforts to assert their primacy across the Islamic world.

[N]either country is prepared to elevate the interests of its people over the demands of ideology.

“All success stories start with a vision,” Deputy Crown Prince Salman is quoted as saying on the Vision 2030 website. But vision is insufficient to bridge the gap between aspiration and reality; a serious agenda to implement either the Saudi or the Iranian vision would require painful compromises to regime ideology and a fundamental overhaul of the institutions and the structure of power in both countries. 

Imagine, though, for a moment, that these far-fetched ambitions were quite serious, and that both the Saudi and Iranian leadership were determined to do what was necessary to truly wean their economies off oil dependence. Consider what it might mean for the region if these grandiose ambitions were not simply the illusions of overpriced consultants and embattled technocrats—if a leadership emerged in one or both of the Middle East’s most powerful actors prepared to invest political capital in a genuine transformation of priorities and policies. What might be possible if Tehran and Riyadh sought to compete for economic opportunities instead of fueling violence and sectarianism around the region? If instead of a vicious sectarian and geopolitical rivalry, these two old adversaries engaged in a race to the top?

What will it take to move these visions from wishful thinking to reality? More than rhetoric, to be sure. But even the articulation of improbable objectives will have its impact. As documented in a recent book, Iran’s post-revolutionary experience demonstrates that the regime’s reliance on promises of economic gains has generated public expectations for effective and accountable governance. Now Iranians and Saudis have been told by their leaders—who happen to be officially infallible—that the time has come to transcend oil. What might happen if they believe it?

Renewable energy is an important source to tackle against climate change, as the latest IPCC report has pointed out. However, due to the existence of multiple market failures such as negative externalities of fossil fuels and knowledge spillovers of new technology, government subsidies are still needed to develop renewable energy, such as solar photovoltaic (PV) cells. In the United States, there have been various forms of subsidies for PV, varying from the federal level to the state level, and from the city level to the utility level. California, as the pioneer of solar PV development, has put forward the biggest state-level subsidy program for PV, the California Solar Initiative (CSI). The CSI has planned to spend around $2.2 Billion in 2007–2016 to install roughly 2 GW PV capacity, with the average subsidy level as high as $1.1/W. How to evaluate the cost-effectiveness and incentive pass-through of this program are the two major research questions we are pursing.

Our cost-effectiveness analysis is based on a constrained optimization model that we developed, where the objective is to install as much PV capacity as possible under a fixed budget constraint. Both the analytical and computational results suggest that due to a strong peer effect and the learning-by-doing effect, one can shift subsides from later periods to early periods so that the final PV installed capacity can be increased by 8.1% (or 32 MW). However, if the decision-maker has other policy objectives or constraints in mind, such as maintaining the policy certainty, then, the optimally calculated subsidy policy would look like the CSI.

As to the incentive pass-through question, we took a structural approach and in addition used the method of regression discontinuity (RD). While in general, the incentive pass-through rate depends on the curvature of the demand and supply curve and the level of market competition, our two estimations indicate that the incentive pass-through for the CSI program is almost complete. In other words, almost all of the incentive has been enjoyed by the customer, and the PV installers did not retain much. Based on the RD design, we observe that PV installers tend to consider the CSI incentive as exogenous to their pricing decision.

The relative good performance of the CSI in terms of both the cost-effectiveness and the incentive pass-through aspect are tightly related to its policy design and program management. International speaking, the biggest challenge for the design of any PV subsidy program is the quick running out of the budget, and in the end, it looks like customers are rushing for the subsidy. Such rushing behavior is a clear indication of higher-than-needed incentive levels. Due to the policy rigidity and rapid PV technological change, the PV subsidy policy may lag behind the PV cost decline; and as a result, rational customers could rush for any unnecessarily high subsidy.

Due to the high uncertainty and unpredictability of future PV costs, the CSI put forward a new design that links the incentive level change and the installed capacity goal fulfillment. Specifically, the CSI has designed nine steps to achieve its policy goal; at each step, there is a PV capacity goal that corresponds to an incentive level. Once the capacity goal is finished, the incentive level will decrease to the next lower level. Furthermore, to maintain the policy certainty, the CSI regulated that every step-wise change in the incentive level should not be higher than $0.45/W, nor smaller than $0.05/W, together with other three constraints.

A good subsidy policy not only requires flexible policy design to respond to fast-changing environment, but also demands an efficient program management system, digitalized if possible. For the CSI, the authority has contracted out a third-party to maintain a good database system for the program. Specifically, the database has documented in detail every PV system that customers requested. Key data fields include 22 important dates during the PV installation process, customers’ zip code, city, utility and county information, and various characteristics of the PV system such as price, system size, incentive, PV module and installer. All information is publicly available, which to some extent fills in the information gap held by customers and fosters the market competition among PV installers. For customers to receive the incentive, their PV systems have to pass the inspection of the local government, and also to be interconnected to the grid. On the supply side, the CSI has also certified and created a list of PV installers that every customer can choose from.

Although the CSI has ended in 2014 due to fast PV cost reduction starting from 2009, its experience has been transferred to other areas in the United States and in Europe. It is highly possible that other similar new technologies and products (e.g. the electric car and the battery) can adopt the CSI policy design, too. In summary, a good and successful policy may need to be simply, clear, credible, foreseeable, flexible, end-able, and incentive-compatible. The PV subsidy policy in China still has a long way to go when compared to the CSI.

With new technologies for extracting oil and natural gas producing an energy boom throughout North America, Senior Fellow Charles Ebinger sees the potential in hydraulic fracturing or “fracking” to free the continent from dependence on Middle East oil, and even make some progress on curbing sources of air pollution.
 

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