I was honored today to speak at the kick off meeting of the new ReFormers Caucus. This group of over 100 former members of the U.S. Senate, the House, and governors of both parties, has come together to fight for meaningful campaign finance reform. In the bipartisan spirit of the caucus, I shared speaking duties with Professor Richard Painter, who was the Bush administration ethics czar and my predecessor before I had a similar role in the Obama White House. 

As I told the distinguished audience of ReFormers (get the pun?) gathered over lunch on Capitol Hill, I wish they had existed when in my Obama administration role I was working for the passage of the Disclose Act. That bill would have brought true transparency to the post-Citizens United campaign finance system, yet it failed by just one vote in Congress.  But it is not too late for Americans, working together, to secure enhanced transparency and other campaign finance changes that are desperately needed.  Momentum is building, with increasing levels of public outrage, as reflected in state and local referenda passing in Maine, Seattle and San Francisco just this week, and much more to come at the federal, state and local level.

President Paul Kagame of Rwanda has been a very effective leader for his small Central African nation. First, he led the Rwandan Patriotic Front when it ended the 1994 genocide and brought a measure of stability to a land that had just suffered a terrible holocaust. Then as vice president until 2000, and president since then (being formally elected under the current constitution twice, in 2003 and 2010), he has helped usher in remarkable economic growth and human development. Many Western leaders have personally offered high praise for Kagame—calling him a “visionary” and among “the greatest leaders of our time”—and have marshalled considerable resources to aid in Rwanda’s post-genocide development.

But his leadership has not been without controversy. There have been some excesses and allegations of abuses of political opponents during the Kagame years. And his abuses of power have arguably increased in recent years—suggesting that, whatever his past accomplishments, his real motives for wanting to stay in office may have less to do with a call to service and more with his increasingly autocratic tendencies.

On balance, though, he has been an effective leader who has saved countless lives. Does that legacy justify his seeking what would be a third seven-year term in the nation’s 2017 presidential elections? Rwandan voters choose today whether to approve a constitutional amendment—already passed by the Senate—that would allow President Kagame another stint in power.

Murky waters 

Kagame has been for his nation arguably what Franklin D. Roosevelt was for our own, given the nature of the emergencies facing Rwanda that led to his ascent to power. And we elected FDR four times. To be sure, after the fact, we thought better of it and decided never to allow that again. But we did it. George Washington chose not to run for a third term, but he was blessed with a legion of founding fathers of remarkable ability all around him, and was succeeded by Adams and Jefferson. Lincoln never had the chance to consider a third term—and maybe we would have been better off in the day if he could have served for many years. 

I am not comparing Kagame with Washington, Lincoln and Roosevelt to assert that he belongs in their league. But to dramatize the issue, suppose that he is just as important to his nation as those three gentlemen have been to ours. Would that justify another term? Putting the question this way muddies the waters, but I think it is the only fair way to address the issue. 

More often than not, of course, two terms is more than a given leader deserves. Witness President Hamid Karzai in Afghanistan, or Pierre Nkurunziza in Burundi who just garnered a third term amidst much violence, or Joseph Kabila next door in the Democratic Republic of Congo who is due to step down next year. Indeed, Kabila may or may not do so—and it would be unambiguously bad for his country and American interests if he stayed past that date. All the more reason that, for consistency, we should want Kagame to step down—otherwise leaders like Kabila could use his behavior to excuse and justify their own attempts to hold onto power indefinitely. 

But is it really so simple in his case, and is it really such an easy call? Another tough case is President Yoweri Museveni of Uganda, who has brought a degree of peace and development to his nation after the Amin and Obote periods—but who is now in his sixth term. Perhaps once in a blue moon, a nation can benefit from multiple terms in office for a particularly gifted leader at a particularly fraught and important period in a country’s history.

Mr. Kagame: Prove us wrong 

Ultimately, institution building and the establishment of solid democratic procedures are the only sure guarantor of long-term national stability. Kagame is only 58, but he will not live forever. At some point, Rwanda really will need a succession strategy. 

So I hope Kagame chooses not to run again. But if he does run, we need to pressure him to justify it in terms of the legacy he is helping to create so that Rwanda will have future leaders and institutions that can keep the country moving forward.

Ultimately, institution building and the establishment of solid democratic procedures are the only sure guarantor of long-term national stability.

Thus, if Kagame does persuade the public to change the constitution and does win a third elected term, we should cut aid (though not impose stronger measures like trade sanctions) to show our disapproval. That is, we should cut aid unless he uses the third term—which must certainly be his last—to show his countrymen and the world that in fact his rule is about improving his country, not turning it into another fiefdom run by an African strongman. 

For us, taking this approach will necessitate creating a method for evaluating whether Rwanda’s institutions gradually move closer to true democracy in the years ahead so that, whatever might happen with a third term, a fourth term becomes entirely unjustifiable. Presidents for life are bad for their countries while they are alive, and they are dangerous for their countries when they die. Kagame needs to understand this basic fact before he becomes the next world leader who starts out a noble man and then allows power to corrupt him.

More than two decades after the genocide, Rwanda is ready for a more vigorous democratic process—and any responsible leader should be building up the institutions to prepare for that eventuality. Stronger political parties that do not have exclusive ties to just one ethnic group, clear laws constraining and regulating the nature of political competition so that it is inclusive and nonviolent, strong courts—these are the essence of an established democracy, and Rwanda needs them.

Saudi Arabians woke up over the weekend to a once-in-a-decade cabinet reshuffle. Octogenarian oil minister Ali al-Naimi, who has been in charge of the Kingdom’s energy policy since 1995, was replaced by Khaled al-Falih, who is to head the newly created Energy, Industry, and Natural Resources Ministry. Majed al-Qusaibi was named head of the newly created Commerce and Investment Ministry. Finally, Ahmed al-Kholifey was made governor of the Saudi Arabia’s Central Bank (SAMA). It may come as a surprise to many Saudis that the origin of this reshuffle—and indeed the Kingdom’s new economic direction—finds its impetus in a report by the global management consulting firm McKinsey & Company.

A man with a plan

Saudi Arabia has been struggling to deal with the impact of lower oil prices. After years of recording budget surpluses, the government has seen its budgetary deficit grow to 15 percent of GDP. Lower oil prices—coupled with tensions with regional rival Iran over Yemen, Syria, and Lebanon—have put the Kingdom’s finances under pressure. Since oil prices began to plummet, Saudi Arabia’s ever-ambitious Deputy Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman has been spearheading an ambitious reform initiative that seeks to diversify the Kingdom’s economy away from oil. 

Dubbed “Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030,” the prince says that the new economic blueprint will increase the role of the private sector from 40 percent to 60 percent, reduce unemployment from 11 percent to 7.6 percent, and grow non-oil income exponentially. This is to be financed by the partial privatization of the Kingdom’s oil behemoth, Aramco. 

The 2030 document outlines a number of significant reforms that seek to change not only the Saudi economy, but state-society relations more broadly, in a way that has been done since the Kingdom’s founding.

The 2030 document outlines a number of significant reforms that seek to change not only the Saudi economy, but state-society relations more broadly, in a way that hasn't been done since the Kingdom’s founding. The prince’s vision seems to have been inspired by a report issued by the McKinsey Global Institute in December 2015 titled “Moving Saudi Arabia’s Economy Beyond Oil.” The vision and the report have similar policy prescriptions for diversifying the Kingdom’s economy away from oil. 

Such similarities highlight the influence of consultancies on policymaking in the Kingdom. Indeed, Bloomberg news reported that consultancies are set to earn 12 percent more in commissions in Saudi Arabia this year, the fastest growth amongst the world’s advisory markets. In a wide-ranging interview with The Economist in January, Prince Mohammed himself said that “McKinsey participates with us in many studies.” According to the Financial Times, Saudi businessmen have sarcastically dubbed the Ministry of Planning as the “McKinsey Ministry.”

McKinsey’s key report, full with glossy illustrations, contains consultant buzzwords (“transformation,” “efficiency,” and “synergies”) that would make Marty Kaan in Showtimes’s House of Lies proud. It’s by no means novel for consultants to advise governments in the region and across the world, and indeed the report does outline an ambitious blueprint for the Kingdom’s economic transformation and diversification away from oil. 

Will the public buy it?

But in a glaring omission, the report does not adequately explain how the Saudi government will be able to change the mindset of everyday Saudi Arabia citizens, who have long been accustomed to state largesse that included fuel subsidies, loans, free land, and public sector jobs. 

This is the key issue. The reform plans sound promising, and will indeed make headway in weaning the Kingdom off its oil “addiction” (as the prince himself put it). But how will everyday citizens react to the reforms? The Saudi government will be asking more of its citizens—will the citizens in turn ask for more accountability and representation? Since January, the prices of gasoline, electricity, and water have gone up. There was a public outcry against higher utility prices, which lead King Salman to fire the water minister to absorb the public’s anger. 

Such discontent is the harbinger of things to come. The coming months and years will show how Saudi leadership implements much needed economic reforms without alienating its population. While the outcome is uncertain, one thing is: consultants will continue to flock to Saudi Arabia to work on the “mother of all transformation projects.”

Editors' Note: This post was corrected on May 12, 2016 to clarify that the report “Moving Saudi Arabia’s Economy Beyond Oil” was issued by the McKinsey Global Institute, the research arm of McKinsey & Company. MGI’s work is independent and wholly funded by McKinsey Partners. The MGI report was not commissioned by the government of Saudi Arabia and has no formal role in government decision-making.

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?

Year after year, federal spending on poverty programs has been going up, but we still see more and more people who have no margin to guard against unexpected expenses or job loss. At the same time, for different reasons, Americans who are not impoverished have seen their wealth decline sharply. Expert Ron Haskins, co-director of the Center on Children and Families, says the problems are growing deeper, despite increased federal spending on programs to assist the poor. Haskins says everyone must sacrifice, but also says, that people in general, who finish high school, get a job, and get married and delay having children until age 21 are better off.

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• Solutions to Poverty's Rise in America

The terrible attack in Nice on July 14—Bastille Day—saddened us all. For a country that has done so much historically to promote democracy and human rights at home and abroad, France is paying a terrible and unfair price, even more than most countries. My colleagues Will McCants and Chris Meserole have carefully documented the toll that France, and certain other Francophone countries like Belgium, have suffered in recent years from global terrorism. It is heart wrenching.

From what we know so far, the attack was carried out by a deeply distraught, potentially deranged, and in any case extremely brutal local man from Nice of Tunisian descent and French nationality. Marital problems, the recent loss of his job, and a general sense of personal unhappiness seem to have contributed to the state of mind that led him to commit this heinous atrocity. Perhaps we will soon learn that ISIS, directly or indirectly, inspired the attack in one way or another as well. My colleague Dan Byman has already tapped into his deep expertise about terrorism to remind us that ISIS had in fact encouraged ramming attacks with vehicles before, even if the actual manifestation of such tactics in this case was mostly new. 

This attack will again raise the question: Why France? On this point, I do have a somewhat different take than some of my colleagues. The argument that France has partly brought these tragedies upon itself—perhaps because of its policies of secularism and in particular its limitations on when and where women can wear the veil in France—strikes me as unpersuasive. Its logical policy implications are also potentially disturbing, because if interpreted wrongly, it could lead to a debate on whether France should modify such policies so as to make itself less vulnerable to terrorism. That outcome, even if unintended, could dance very close to the line of encouraging appeasement of heinous acts of violence with policy changes that run counter to much of what French culture and society would otherwise favor. So I feel the need to push back.

Here are some of the arguments, as I see them, against blaming French culture or policy for this recent string of horrible attacks including the Charlie Hebdo massacre, the November 2015 mass shootings in Paris, and the Nice tragedy (as well as recent attacks in Belgium):

• Starting with the simplest point, we still do not know much about the perpetrator of the Nice killings. From what we do surmise so far, personal problems appear to be largely at the root of the violence—different from, but not entirely unlike, the case with the Orlando shooter, Omar Mateen.
• We need to be careful about drawing implications from a small number of major attacks. Since 2000, there have also been major attacks in the Western world by extremist jihadis or takfiris in New York, Washington, Spain, London, San Bernardino, Orlando, and Russia. None of these are Francophone. Even Belgium is itself a mixed country, linguistically and culturally.
• Partly for reasons of geography, as well as history, France does face a larger problem than some other European countries of individuals leaving its country to go to Syria or Iraq to fight for ISIS, and then returning. But it is hardly unique in the scale of this problem.
• Continental Europe has a specific additional problem that is not as widely shared in the United Kingdom or the United States: Its criminal networks largely overlap with its extremist and/or terrorist networks. This point may be irrelevant to the Nice attack, but more widely, extremists in France or Belgium can make use of illicit channels for moving people, money, and weapons that are less available to would-be jihadis in places like the U.K. (where the criminal networks have more of a Caribbean and sub-Saharan African character, meaning they overlap less with extremist networks).
• Of course, the greatest numbers of terrorist attacks by Muslim extremists occur in the broader Muslim world, with Muslims as the primary victims—from Iraq and Syria to Libya and Yemen and Somalia to South Asia. French domestic policies have no bearing on these, of course.

There is no doubt that good work by counterterrorism and intelligence forces is crucial to preventing future attacks. France has done well in this regard—though it surely can do better, and it is surely trying to get better. There is also no doubt that promoting social cohesion in a broad sense is a worthy goal. But I would hesitate, personally, to attribute any apparent trend line in major attacks in the West to a particular policy of a country like France—especially when the latter is in fact doing much to seek to build bridges, as a matter of national policy, with Muslims at home and abroad. 

There is much more to do in promoting social cohesion, to be sure, even here in America (though our own problems probably center more on race than on religion at the moment). But the Nice attacker almost assuredly didn’t attack because his estranged wife couldn’t wear a veil in the manner and/or places she wanted. At a moment like this in particular, I disagree with insinuations to the contrary.

Editors’ Note: Donald Trump has exposed the tension between democracy and liberal values—similar to the Arab Spring, writes Shadi Hamid. This piece originally appeared on The Atlantic.

When I was living in the Middle East, politics always felt existential, in a way that I suppose I could never fully understand. After all, I could always leave (as my relatives in Egypt were fond of reminding me). But it was easy enough to sense it. Here, in the era of Arab revolt, elections really had consequences. Politics wasn’t about policy; it was about a battle over the very meaning and purpose of the nation-state. These were the things that mattered more than anything else, in part because they were impossible to measure or quantify.

The primary divide in most Arab countries was between Islamists and non-Islamists. The latter, especially those of a more secular bent, feared that Islamist rule, however “democratic” it might be, would alter the nature of their countries beyond recognition. It wouldn’t just affect their governments or their laws, but how they lived, what they wore, and how they raised their sons and daughters.

Perhaps more than at any other time, millions of Americans are getting a sense, however mild in comparison, of what it might feel like to lose your country—or at least think about losing your country—because of what people decide to do in the privacy of the voting booth. It still remains (somewhat) unlikely that Donald Trump, the now presumptive Republican nominee, can win a general election. Regardless of the final outcome, however, the billionaire’s rise offers up a powerful—and frightening—reminder that liberal democracy, even where it’s most entrenched, is a fragile thing.

* * *

When I hear my friends debating how, exactly, so many of their fellow citizens could support someone like Trump, it reminds me a bit of Egypt. In my forthcoming book, I relay a telling conversation I had four years ago, which has stayed with me since. A few days after the country’s first post-revolutionary elections concluded in January 2012, I visited my great aunt in her extravagant flat in the posh Cairo suburb of Heliopolis. She was in a state of shock, but worse than that was the confusion. It was one thing for the Muslim Brotherhood, long Egypt’s largest opposition group, to win close to 40 percent of the vote, but how could 28 percent of Egyptians vote for ultraconservative Salafi parties, which believed in the strict implementation of Islamic law?

Like most Egyptians, she personally knew Brotherhood members even if she didn’t quite like them, but she hadn’t had much experience with Salafis and seemed totally unaware that they had extended their reach deep into Egyptian society. She realized, perhaps for the first time, that the country she had thought was hers for the better part of 70 years would never quite be the same. It hadn’t really even been hers to begin with.

What if voters don’t want to be liberal and vote accordingly?

What my aunt feared was that Egypt would become an “illiberal democracy,” a term popularized by Fareed Zakaria in his 2003 book The Future of Freedom, but one that’s still difficult for Americans to fundamentally relate to. In the American experience, democracy and liberalism seemed to go hand in hand, to such an extent that democracy really just became shorthand for “liberal democracy.”

As Richard Youngs writes in his excellent study of non-Western democracy, liberalism and democracy have historically been “rival notions and not bedfellows.” Liberalism is about non-negotiable personal rights and freedoms. Democracy, while requiring some basic protection of rights to allow for meaningful competition, is more about popular sovereignty, popular will, and accountability and responsiveness to the voting public. Which, of course, raises the question: What if voters don’t want to be liberal and vote accordingly?

* * *

When the stakes are high, there is more to lose, and if there is more to lose, those on the losing end of a ballot box have powerful incentives to play “spoiler.” Fortunately, in the post-Civil War United States, the stakes have never reached what political scientist Barry Weingast calls the “threshold” at which citizens decide to defend themselves through extra-constitutional means, including by appealing for the military to take sides. This, in part, is why (good) constitutions are so important: They lower the stakes, reassuring citizens that even if their preferred party loses the election, it’s still just that—an election.

Donald Trump, or more specifically what he represents, calls some of these assumptions into question. Trump himself isn’t quite an Islamist, but he is a proponent of a kind of “illiberal democracy,” even if he himself may not be familiar with the term. Drawing on a wellspring of white nativism and machismo, candidate Trump has regularly made demeaning statements about entire groups of people, including African-Americans, Mexicans, and women. His commitment to the protections enshrined in U.S. constitution are questionable, at best, and if we assume the worst, downright frightening (the difficulty with Trump is that he’s not precise with words, so it’s sometimes hard to make sense of what he’s saying). He has expressed support for registering Muslims in a database, elaborating that they could “sign up at different places.” When a reporter asked how this was different from requiring Jews to register in Nazi Germany, Trump said “you tell me,” prompting The Atlantic’s David Graham to note that “it’s hard to remember a time when a supposedly mainstream candidate had no interest in differentiating ideas he’s endorsed from those of the Nazis.” Trump, for good measure, has also refused to disavow President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s internment of Japanese-Americans.

The U.S. Constitution includes robust civil-liberties protections, enshrined in the Bill of Rights. But these protections are not unlimited. Contrary to popular belief, majorities—if they’re large enough—can, in fact, do nearly anything they want, even in established democracies. It’s only really a question of how high the majoritarian bar is. In the United States, two-thirds of Congress and 75 percent of the states can amend or repeal articles of the Constitution. They could theoretically pass a constitutional amendment banning abortion. In countries like Egypt, Tunisia, and Turkey, where alcohol is currently legal and relatively easy to find, the issue of alcohol consumption is a touchstone for endless “what if” hypothesizing. Yet, Prohibition happened not in any of those countries but in America, with large majorities in the Senate and House of Representatives as well as 46 of 48 states backing the 18th Amendment (of course, banning alcohol in the U.S. wasn’t justified on primarily scriptural grounds, while in Muslim-majority countries, prohibition is seen as fulfilling an explicitly Quranic directive).

In other words, built-in constraints and constitutional “guarantees” aren’t enough on their own to preclude illiberal outcomes. What Americans really depend on, then, is a shared political culture and the ideas and ideals that undergird it. As James Fallows notes, “Liberal democracies like ours depend on rules but also on norms—on the assumption that you’ll go so far, but no further, to advance your political ends.” But all it apparently takes is one man with charisma and an unusually perceptive understanding of the human psyche to change that. There are norms against politicians suggesting that minorities should have special identification cards. There are norms against saying you want to kill the families of terrorists. There are norms against encouraging your supporters to use violence against their political opponents. It’s not entirely clear why you don’t do or say these things (because Trump clearly has), but you just don’t. The very fact that Trump has made such frightening comments on national television—without any corresponding “disqualification” or decline in popular support—has already undermined these longstanding norms.

The United States has had demagogues before, but they rarely make for viable presidential candidates. This is democracy’s blessing as well as its curse: that people you really don’t like—people who you think might threaten the Republic—can actually win. In the specific context of the Republican nomination, Trump opponents basically called for prioritizing good outcomes over democratic ones. They continued to search for possible paths to denying Trump the nomination, despite the fact that, barring acts of God, he was certain to win the popular vote and a plurality of delegates in the primaries.

Even if Trump reached the magic number of 1,237 delegates, which would normally settle the matter, there were those who still seemed intent on scouring the rulebooks, parliamentary procedure, and delegate details in the hope of averting disaster. Democratic norms, the thinking goes, are great in normal contexts, but sometimes the stakes are simply too high to let democratic outcomes stand. As the columnist Walter Shapiro wrote, “[W]ith the threat of the first takeover of a modern political party by an authoritarian who traffics in racism and exudes contempt for the First Amendment ... [t]here would be nothing anti-democratic about GOP leaders using every mechanism in their power to stop Trump.” Nate Silver pointed out that “technically [Republicans would] be able to deny Trump the nomination even if he had a delegate majority by changing the rules at the last minute.” They could still theoretically do something like this, even after Trump’s decisive victory in Indiana. The Republican Party is not a country, and the party can disregard the preferences of primary voters if it so chooses, but elite pacts and back-room negotiations would seem decidedly antiquated during an unusually populist moment in American politics.

[T]here will no doubt be a temptation to defy or otherwise undermine a democratically elected Trump.

This particular debate in some ways mirrors arguments over the tensions between democracy and liberalism, a debate that will only intensify if Trump gains ground on Hillary Clinton in the coming months. It is probably time to err on the side of imagination, since party elites and pundits failed to imagine the unthinkable once already. What if Trump actually wins the presidency? How would we as Americans deal with an outcome that at least some of us see as a potential danger to our Constitution as well as our livelihoods?

If Donald Trump wins, he would have, whether we liked it or not, a democratic mandate. Once in power, he might moderate his rhetoric and policies (yet another data point in the debate over the “inclusion-moderation hypothesis”), rendering at least some of this discussion moot. Yet it’s also possible that, facing a growing terrorist threat and a sputtering economy, more and more Americans might, like their newly elected president, dispense with the norms of reasonable conduct and support extreme measures. Still, a President Trump would be a legitimate president, having been freely and fairly elected by enough Americans. He would be, as much as it pains me to say it, our president. Still, there will no doubt be a temptation to defy or otherwise undermine a democratically elected Trump. For those of us who study the Middle East, the idea of not respecting democratic outcomes is business as usual, but I never thought it would be up for debate in the United States.

* * *

“Deep state” is a phrase that’s used to describe the constellation of autonomous and self-perpetuating institutions, namely the judiciary, military, and security services, which operate outside the glare of the public and are immune to the electorate’s whims. This deep state, acting as the guardian of national identity, puts limits on what elected politicians can hope to accomplish. The deep state was responsible for four coups in Turkey, the most recent of which deposed the country’s first-ever democratically elected Islamist prime minister in 1997.

It would be difficult for Americans to think about their own government—or “regime”—in such terms. The U.S. military is subject to civilian control, while Supreme Court justices, though unelected and appointed to life terms, are nominated by the president and confirmed by the Senate. It is possible, however, to imagine a president so reckless as to activate state institutions against him or her, in a way that makes the notion of an American deep state more meaningful and relevant.

Former CIA Director Michael Hayden ignited some speculative debate when he said that the military “would refuse to act” if ordered by a President Trump to take actions that were clearly illegal, such as killing the families of terrorists. Moreover, he said, military commanders are “required not to follow an unlawful order.” Even short of flagrant illegality, the military can still do what it’s done, at times, with nearly every sitting president. Peter Feaver, a leading expert on civil-military relations, notes that “the historical record is replete with cases of the military shirking—withholding information and options, slow-rolling, end-runs to Congress and the media, inflating cost estimates, etc.—to thwart civilian policies they deem to be unwise.” Considering, however, that Trump would likely be more “unwise” than most past presidents, such tensions could intensify well beyond what America’s political system is accustomed to.

"[C]oup”...is not a word that Americans should ever get used to hearing in everyday political discourse.

One can also easily imagine left-of-center (and right-of-center) civil servants in the Departments of State and Defense working against the president from within to mitigate his effectiveness and even his authority. This would be good, insofar as Americans wouldn’t want their president doing things that were crazy, illegal, or both. But it would still raise difficult questions about democratic legitimacy and how far an elected president can pursue his preferred policies, especially when it comes to issues that aren’t clear-cut. If the military refused to obey orders, however justified their refusal, then it could very well erode norms against military intervention in domestic politics. In response to Hayden’s comments, host Bill Maher joked that the former CIA director was floating “a coup.” This is not a word that Americans should ever get used to hearing in everyday political discourse. The norm against “coups” is a powerful one, which explains why American analysts (if not the U.S. government) are generally uncomfortable with military coups in foreign countries. No one teaches us that military coups are bad. Rather, it’s something we absorb in the process of being American. It goes without saying, so it’s rarely said.

Recently, a few friends (who work on Middle East issues) and I had an interesting although ultimately frightening conversation, as Trump extended his delegate lead over Ted Cruz. Sometimes it’s useful to game out worst-case scenarios, however unlikely they might seem. We tried imagining a dystopian future and came up with internment camps, (threats of) military coups, and pro-Trump militias. Soon enough, the last didn’t seem nearly so farfetched, with volunteers offering to provide security at Trump rallies (for Trump supporters).

* * *

It is hard to imagine such things because, despite a long, low-intensity war on terrorism, America hasn’t faced a large-scale terrorist attack on the homeland since September 11, 2001. Democratic systems produce self-perpetuating norms, because they are accountable to a voting public. It’s this very responsiveness, though, that can be a source of vulnerability, if enough citizens, in the grip of fear, decide to prioritize “security” over liberty. As the legal scholar Christopher Kutz writes in the suggestively titled article “How Norms Die,” democracy can be “at the same time both fertile and toxic: fertile as a source of humanitarian values and institutions, but toxic to the very institutions it cultivates.”

This is something we can measure. As Daniel Bush observed, after analyzing Pew survey data from 2002 to 2014: “During each campaign season, respondents reported having a higher negative impression of Muslim Americans than in non-election years.” This is a bit more mild than the link between elections and religious riots in India. As the historian of religions Michael Cook notes, “There is no doubt that Hindu nationalist politicians believe that communal riots can get out the Hindu vote for them. ... Under the right conditions the communal riot is a winning [electoral] strategy.”

Norm shifting of an even more dangerous kind than India’s can happen rather quickly in countries where democracy is not yet consolidated. For example, millions of Egyptians who demanded freedom and democracy in 2011 turned seemingly against it in less than two and half years, supporting not just a return to authoritarian rule but the August 14, 2013 massacre of more than 800 protesters—what Human Rights Watch calls the “worst mass killing in [Egypt’s] modern history.”

The kinds of shifts that occur in established democracies are less nefarious, but they can happen just the same. Torture is a good example. Kutz calls the spread of global norms against torture “one of the most impressive successes of the post-war period.” Yet, in the United States, these norms began to erode after the attacks of September 11th. Soon enough, torture—or what some were now euphemistically calling “enhanced interrogation”—came to enjoy broad support among the American public. The lesson again is clear. However strong they may first appear, norms, particularly those relating to national security, are more fragile than we might like to think. Once their sanctity is undermined by authority figures (whether presidents or presidential candidates), others can judge that what was once considered shameful is now not just socially tolerated but also necessary, good, and just. This is why “political correctness”—even if it seems irritating and is sometimes abused to restrict reasonable debate—still represents a public good: It makes us think twice about saying things that might contribute to the erosion of liberal and democratic norms.

[N]orms, particularly those relating to national security, are more fragile than we might like to think.

We have now reached a point where current or former presidential candidates from both parties have flirted with the idea of internment camps (former Democratic candidate Wesley Clark has called for “segregating” radicalized Muslims who are “disloyal to the United States”). In a series of incidents that have received less attention, a Tennessee State Representative called for using state institutions, in this case the National Guard, to “round up” Syrian refugees. Meanwhile, the mayor of Roanoke, Virginia, called for suspending assistance to refugees, but went further in an official statement on government letterhead. “I’m reminded,” he wrote, “that President Franklin D. Roosevelt felt compelled to sequester Japanese foreign nationals after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, and it appears that the threat of harm to America from ISIS now is just as real and serious as that from our enemies then.”

No less than Supreme Court justice Antonin Scalia believed that it could happen here. On this, he is on strong ground, since it has, of course, already happened. In 1944, the Supreme Court upheld Roosevelt’s internment of Japanese-Americans in Korematsu v. United States. While Scalia said that the decision was “wrong,” he also issued a warning in his blunt style: “You are kidding yourself if you think the same thing will not happen again.”

The norm against internment has been undermined, even though Americans do not face anything close to the threat presented by the Nazis and Japan during World War II. Which raises the question of what a plurality, or even a majority, of Americans might be willing to support if they had to confront a threat that was truly existential. We Americans are not, today, at war, at least not in the normal sense. I hope to God that we never will be again. But we might be. And this is where Scalia’s words that day were perhaps most chilling, in part because he was right. Evoking the Latin expression inter arma enim silent leges, he reminded the audience that “in times of war, the laws fall silent.” All we will have then are the things we still believe in—our norms. But, by then, they might not be enough.

La fuite des informations du cabinet juridique Mossack Fonseca dans l’affaire des « Panama Papers » a fait et fera la une des journaux pendant des semaines à fur et à mesure de la révélation de nouveaux noms des personnes impliquées. Le scandale a placé le Panama sur le devant de la scène et a donné un aperçu inédit du monde de l’argent caché et de l’évasion fiscale. Afin de mieux saisir le contexte général, il est important de faire la distinction entre la corruption légale, révélée par l’affaire des « Panama Papers » et la corruption illégale, exposée par le scandale Unaoil. Le moment est venu pour les gouvernements de prendre des mesures radicales contre l’une et l’autre.  

Les États-Unis, le Royaume-Uni et plusieurs autres pays annonceront leurs engagements pour lutter contre la corruption lors du sommet anticorruption le 12 mai, dont le Premier ministre David Cameron affirme qu’il changera la donne. La question est de savoir si ces engagements se traduiront par des mesures concrètes à l’égard des types de corruption les plus coûteux qui, aujourd’hui, se prolifèrent à l’échelle mondiale.  

Malheureusement, le monde s’engage souvent dans des  sommets, riches en communiqués, en appels à la coordination et à l’échange d’informations. Parfois, ces sommets mettent en place une initiative inefficace supplémentaire : donnant l’opportunité de créer et promouvoir des articles et photos qui servent les objectifs politiques précis de certains leaders politiques. Voyons si ce sommet sera diffèrent.

Au-delà du Panama

Le cabinet juridique Mossack Fonseca et son pays respectif, le Panama, ne sont que deux éléments dans le vaste et complexe ensemble de « facilitateurs » de la corruption et de l’évasion fiscale à l’échelle mondiale.     

Pour ceux qui sont à la recherche de refuges discrets et de sociétés-écrans, la puissante nation des États-Unis (qui sans surprise n’apparaît pas beaucoup dans les Panama Papers) est une des destinations les plus attrayantes du monde : par example, dans l’état du Delaware la loi requiert  moins de documents pour établir une société-écran que pour obtenir un permis de conduire. Comme on le voit dans l’illustration ci-dessous, c’est cette opacité, conjuguée à la taille du refuge qu’offrent les États-Unis, qui met le pays à la troisième place des juridictions les plus secrètes parmi une centaine évaluée par l’indice d’opacité financière (FSI). Le Panama est à la treizième place.

Illustration 1 : Indice d’opacité financière 2015 (Juridictions sélectionnées, d’après le réseau pour la justice fiscale)

Source : Indice d’opacité financière du Réseau pour la justice fiscalehttp://www.financialsecrecyindex.com/introduction/fsi-2015-results

Ce graphique présente les 40 juridictions les moins performantes ainsi que quatre juridictions choisies pour leurs meilleurs résultats (à droite des pointillés). L’indice présente un score de secret qualitatif basé sur une quinzaine d’indicateurs et une mesure quantitative de l’importance d’une juridiction dans les exportations de services financiers à l’échelle mondiale. 

Le Royaume-Uni est un important facilitateur de corruption : il n’a engagé aucune action contre ses juridictions et protectorats d’outre-mer qui servent de refuge aux richesses illicites, comme le démontrent clairement les  « Panama Papers ». Les Iles Vierges britanniques, par exemple, est le lieu préféré  de milliers de sociétés-écrans établies par Mossack Fonseca.  

Au-delà des refuges fiscaux 

L’affaire des « Panama Papers » ne concerne qu’indirectement les aspects essentiels de la question de la corruption mondiale, qui ne sont liés ni au Panama ni à la fiscalité. Nous devons envisager les scandales suscités sous un angle plus large et reconnaître les immenses et complexes réseaux de la corruption, qui lient de plus en plus les élites économiques et politiques mondiales.

La grande corruption

Les puissants individus qui s’engage dans la corruption à haut niveau, c’est-à-dire la corruption à large échelle ne sont pas inquiétés par l’affaire des « Panama Papers ». On trouve parmi ces individus des dirigeants kleptocrates ainsi que des oligarques qui exercent une influence majeure sur les affaires gouvernementales. Souvent, ces acteurs interagissent et s’associent, en formant des réseaux public-privé très puissants qui font passer pour un jeu d’enfant la définition traditionnelle de la corruption comme étant une transaction illégale entre deux parties.

Dans ces réseaux élitistes, la corruption excède largement le comportement immoral du fraudeur type, puisqu’elle utilise l’abus de pouvoir pour accumuler biens et pouvoir, souvent par le pillage direct des ressources publiques, la confiscation d’actifs ou la corruption à grande échelle. Le scandale à plusieurs milliards de dollars qui touche le géant pétrolier Petrobas au Brésil illustre la complexité de ces réseaux d’entente, et les moyens avec lesquels, la corruption à large échelle  peut provoquer des dégâts politiques et économiques d’ampleur historique dans un pays. 

Le secteur pétrolier offre de nombreux example de corruption à large échelle. Les dirigeants de la société Unaoil, dont un scandale similaire a récemment fait surface,  ont sans doute été soulagés par l’affaire des « Panama Papers » Unaoil est une société monégasque  « facilitatrice » de droit qui a versé des pots-de-vin et influencé des responsables gouvernementaux dans différents pays pour le compte de compagnies multinationales se disputant de juteux contrats d’approvisionnement. Bien qu’éclipsé par l’affaire du Panama, le cas d’Unaoil est aussi emblématique les enjeux inhérents à la lutte contre la corruption mondiale. Il illustre par exemple la pratique fortement enracinée des responsables gouvernementaux irakiens qui demandent des dessous de table en échange de l’attribution de contrats, ainsi que l’empressement des entreprises à verser ces pot-de-vin.

Les élites corrompues, notamment celles qui sont impliquées dans le scandale Unaoil, utilisent souvent des structures telles que les sociétés-écrans et les paradis fiscaux (et les investissements immobiliers ou autres) pour dissimuler leur biens mal-acquis. Toutefois, si l’affaire des Panama Papers incite à plus de vigilance sur les flux financiers illicites et engendre la réforme de ces structures financières opaques, la corruption à large échelle se poursuivra dans nombreux endroits.  Il est à noter que les retombées politiques se sont concentrées dans des pays relativement bien gouvernés, qui ont instauré des systèmes anticorruptions et de responsabilisation, comme en témoignent les démissions du Premier ministre islandais, du ministre de l’industrie espagnol et du dirigeant de la section chilienne de Transparency International. 

En revanche, le président Vladimir Poutine a balayé d’un revers de la main les fuites d’information sur la Russie, les considérant comme une conspiration occidentale contre sa personne. En Chine, le débat et la diffusion de ces informations ont été étouffés par la censure des médias ; en Azerbaïdjan, la révélation des détails concernant les intérêts miniers de la famille du président Aliyev ne menace guère sa mainmise sur le pouvoir. Il est à espérer que les réformes découlant de l’affaire du Panama dissuaderont les fraudeurs ainsi que les entreprises et les particuliers aux pratiques immorales de dissimuler leur argent bien mal acquis. Toutefois, les dirigeants corrompus continueront à bénéficier de l’impunité.

Corruption légale et captation de l’État   

Les Panama Papers ont mis en lumière le type de corruption qui est sans doute le plus dévastateur et le plus dure à contrecarrer : la corruption légale et la captation de l’État.  Partout dans le monde, de puissantes élites économiques et commerciales influencent indûment les lois et les politiques, en redessinant les règles du jeu pour leur propre bénéfice, un phénomène aussi connu sous le nom de « privatisation de la politique publique et des lois ». Une pratique qui génère des revenus exorbitants pour les élites, renforce leur pouvoir et exacerbe les disparités politiques et économiques d’un pays.

Les pays riches en ressources naturelles fournissent de nombreux exemples. En Angola, en République démocratique du Congo, au Nigéria et au Venezuela, par exemple, les élites politiques ont utilisé des sociétés publiques exploitant les ressources naturelles pour servir leur népotisme, souvent - mais pas uniquement - par des moyens légaux.

Dans beaucoup de pays industrialisés, le système fiscal est en lui-même un exemple de captation de l’État. Il est dans l’intérêt des élites de conserver un réseau mondial de sociétés offshore et de paradis fiscaux secrets pour pouvoir dissimuler leur patrimoine - qu’il ait été acquis légitimement ou non. Les preuves d’évasion fiscale aux États-Unis sont révélatrices : selon Zucman, depuis les années 1950, le taux réel de l’impôt sur les sociétés a été réduit de 45 à 15 pour cent, alors que le taux nominal est seulement passé de 50 à 35 pour cent. Et les sociétés américaines font un usage optimal des paradis fiscaux à l’étranger : d’après un nouveau rapport d’Oxfam, les 50 plus grandes multinationales américaines ont rapporté en 2008 que 43 pour cent de leurs revenus réalisés à l’étranger provenaient de cinq paradis fiscaux, représentant seulement 4 pour cent des effectifs étrangers de ces sociétés. En outre, Bourguignon rappelle que les taux d’imposition fédéraux des Américains les plus riches ont diminué de 15 pour cent entre 1970 et 2004.

Le risque de corruption légale aux États-Unis est important, l’argent privé pouvant très facilement influencer les affaires publiques. Suite à l’arrêt Citizen United rendu par la Cour suprême en 2010 [qui permet la participation financière des entreprises aux campagnes politiques], les fonds privés issus de poches bien garnies dirigent de plus en plus les campagnes électorales. Les moyens par lesquels l’argent privé influence les représentants publics pourraient encore se multiplier, si les formes de corruption traditionnellement considérées comme illégales devenaient légales. Selon une décision en instance de la Cour Suprême, il pourrait désormais être légal pour les responsables publics d’accepter les dons en nature des particuliers (ce qui pourrait annuler la condamnation d’un ancien gouverneur de l’État de Virginie accusé précisément de ce délit).  

Quelles mesures prendre ?     

En Bref, Il n’y a pas de solutions simple  et directe, d’autant plus que les décideurs tirent profit de ce statu quo.  Mais l’opportunité de réforme et la pression publique sont actuellement présentes. Comme nous l’avons évoqué, la question de la lutte contre la corruption entraîne souvent des mesures symboliques et l’annonce par David Cameron d’une nouvelle agence mondiale anticorruption pourrait très bien tomber dans cette catégorie. Les pays comme les États-Unis et le Royaume-Uni devraient plutôt prendre des mesures concrètes pour réformer leurs propres pratiques et pousser leurs partenaires à faire de même, qu’il s’agisse des dépendances de la Couronne et des territoires britanniques d’outre-mer, de l’Union européenne et des membres du G20 ou des bénéficiaires d’une aide internationale.

Premièrement, il faudrait prendre la corruption légale et la captation de l’État au sérieux 

La transparence peut changer les règles du jeu, particulièrement si elle s’attaque aux réseaux d’influence par lesquels la politique se « privatise ». La divulgation des contributions financières aux campagnes électorales, des conflits d’intérêts, des avoirs détenus par les hommes politiques et les responsables publics (et de leurs avis d’impôts), des délibérations et votes parlementaires sont autant de moyens d’éviter les abus et de révéler les réseaux cachés qui sont à l’œuvre. La publication récente de la première salve de l’Organisation de Coopération et de Développement Economiques (OCDE) est encourageante : son rapport « Le financement de la démocratie », s’attache à quelques études de cas. La suite logique serait d’habiliter l’organisation à développer des normes et mener des évaluations sur le financement politique de tous les pays de l’OCDE.

La transparence ne sera utile que si les citoyens peuvent mener un examen attentif de leurs gouvernements et dialoguer avec eux.  L’espace civique est en danger dans de nombreuses juridictions où les activistes et les journalistes sont la cible d’intimidations, de poursuites, voire pire. Garantir la liberté d’expression et de réunion devrait être l’affaire de tout acteur international concerné par la lutte contre la corruption ou la gouvernance économique. Par exemple, lors de l’examen des demandes de financement de gouvernements ayant un piètre bilan en matière de protection de la société civile - comme c’est le cas de l’Angola et de l’Azerbaïdjan - la Banque Mondiale et le Fonds Monétaire International, ainsi que les donateurs comme les États-Unis, devraient privilégier la responsabilisation citoyenne et des réformes de transparence plus ambitieuses.

En outre, la corruption à large échelle ne s’évincera pas en l’absence de poursuites ou d’autres sanctions efficaces contre ceux qui se laissent corrompre ou contre les facilitateurs et les intermédiaires de la corruption qu’ils soient avocats, comptables ou entremetteurs comme Unaoil. Bien sûr, les autorités chargées d’appliquer la loi doivent aussi rester vigilantes vis-à-vis des sociétés qui versent les pots-de-vin et à cet égard, les gouvernements - notamment les membres de l’OCDE instaurant, à des degrés divers, la Convention de l’OCDE sur la lutte contre la corruption - feraient bien d’imiter la mise en œuvre effective de la loi américaine sur la corruption dans les transactions à l’étranger (FCPA). Mais les individus corrompus et les facilitateurs n’ont pas été suffisamment surveillés et sanctionnés.

Deuxièmement, il faudrait se débarrasser des zones d’ombre.

Les leçons tirées des événements récents, de la crise financière de 2008 à l’affaire des Panama Papers, indiquent que les principaux acteurs internationaux ne devraient pas permettre que de vastes fractions de l’économie mondiale échappent à un examen attentif. Les États-Unis et le Royaume-Uni (et ses territoires d’outre-mer) devraient répondre aux appels à mettre fin à l’opacité et aux paradis fiscaux.  Quelques premières tentatives  émergent, telle que la décision du gouvernement américain demandant aux banques de révéler l’identité des individus se cachant derrière les sociétés-écrans. Des mesures plus ambitieuses seront toutefois nécessaires, ceci comprend des dispositions législatives.  

La transparence sur la propriété réelle doit devenir une procédure opérationnelle standard, avec des États qui suivent l’exemple du Royaume-Uni, des Pays-Bas et d’autres pays qui ont établi des registres publics et soutiennent le projet d’un registre mondial. Quant aux pays riches en ressources naturelles, un bon point de départ serait d’établir des registres spécifiques au secteur. Cette pratique est maintenant imposée par l’Initiative pour la Transparence dans les Industries Extractives.

Au sein du secteur extractif, les gouvernements des pays d’accueil devraient soumettre les négociants de matières premières à des exigences de divulgation des paiements lorsqu’ils font affaire avec les gouvernements et les entreprises publiques. Les gouvernements de pays comme la Suisse, le Royaume-Uni et Singapour, qui abritent des acteurs du monde de l’entreprise, ont une lourde responsabilité, particulièrement dans le contexte actuel de faible prix des matières premières, où les négociants concluent de nouveaux contrats profitables avec des pays producteurs de ressources à court d’argent. Eclaircir telles zones d’ombre les rendra moins vulnérables aux abus.

Troisièmement, il faudrait donner la priorité à la transparence et au contrôle lors de l’allocation de ressources publiques.

Lorsqu’un gouvernement attribue des ressources pour l’exploitation, il doit le faire de façon tout à fait transparente. L’initiative Open Contracting Partnership a fait de grandes avancées dans la définition d’une norme de référence pour de telles informations, notamment en matière d’orientation sur les questions de l’ouverture des données, des identificateurs des sociétés et de la propriété réelle.

Les recherches sur la corruption dans les secteurs pétrolier et minier menées par le Natural Resource Governance Institute montrent que de multiples allocations à forte valeur nécessitent un examen attentif et une divulgation du contrat. Elles comprennent l’attribution des permis d’exploration et de production, mais aussi des droits d’exportation, d’importation ou de transport, qui ont été associés à la corruption dans des pays comme l’Indonésie, la République du Congo et l’Ukraine. La plupart des affaires liées au secteur pétrolier et portées devant les tribunaux dans le cadre de la FPCA aux États-Unis ont surgi à l’occasion de l’attribution de marchés de service, un segment de l’industrie pétrolière qui concernait également les scandales Unaoil et Petrobras. La transparence devrait être le « paramètre par défaut » de toute transaction allouant des ressources publiques. Il est nécessaire d’exercer un contrôle supplémentaire des régimes de taux de change mis en œuvre et abusifs, qui génèrent des revenus pour quelques-uns et engendrent des disparités économiques majeures, comme c’est le cas actuellement au Nigeria, au Venezuela et en Égypte.

Pour espérer un impact réel, il faudra aussi s’attaquer frontalement au principe d’impunité, puisque la transparence et la liberté d’expression sont certes nécessaires, mais insuffisantes.  Et les Etats, y compris les États-Unis et le Royaume-Uni, devront adopter des réformes pour lutter contre la corruption légale et l’opacité sous toutes ses formes, que ce soit en s’attaquant à la mainmise de l’argent en politique ou aux « zones d’ombre » entourant les négociants pétroliers installés à Genève et Londres. 

Un engagement ambitieux à lutter contre la corruption et l’impunité n’est pas seulement une nécessité actuelle, mais aussi une revendication de nos sociétés, comme l’ont montré les événements au Brésil et ailleurs. Ce pourrait être le moment décisif de faire de réelles avancées à l’échelle mondiale.  

This piece is also available in English and Spanish. 

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Australia's mandatory Superannuation Guarantee requires its citizens to save at least 9 percent of their income towards retirement. In many Asian nations, economic growth has spurred reexamination of pension systems to meet the needs of rapidly evolving societies. Would a mandatory savings plan be more effective than the current U.S. voluntary system? How have Asian nations have restructured their pension systems to deal with legacy costs? And what can Americans learn from the way Australia uses both employer and employee representatives to shape investment choices?

On September 17, the Retirement Security Project at Brookings and the AARP Public Policy Institute hosted a discussion of what the United States might learn from retirement savings systems in Australia and Asia. Opening speakers included Nick Sherry, who helped shape the Australian system as a cabinet minister and ran a Superannuation fund in the private sector, and Josef Pilger, an advisor on pension reform to both the Malaysian and Hong Kong governments and many industry providers. Steve Utkus, David Harris and Benjamin Harris, retirement experts from both the United States and the United Kingdom, considered how reforms in Australia and Asia can shape the American debate and whether this country should adopt key features from those foreign systems.

Audio

• Retirement Savings in Australia, Asia and Beyond: What are the Lessons for the United States?

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• Uncorrected Transcript (.pdf)

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• 20130917_retirement_savings_transcript

Editor's Note: This blog originally appeared on AARP's Thinking Policy blog

Automatic enrollment for retirement saving is both effective and popular among all income, gender and ethnic groups. It has increased participation, helped people to both start saving earlier and to make appropriate investment choices.This mechanism would be even more useful, especially for younger workers and those with low-to-moderate incomes if retirement savings plans also allowed employees to save for unexpected expenses. Recent research by the US Financial Diaries Project, which looks at the actual income flows of low-to-moderate income consumers shows why this feature would be valuable.

Their studies found that low-to-moderate income households are saving for near-term small emergencies. However, those situations happen so often that they prevent households from building up higher savings for larger emergencies. A split auto enrollment plan would help them to have money for those bigger problems.

One way to structure such a plan would be to automatically enroll an employee into a saving program where part of the contributions would go to a regular 401k-style retirement saving account and the rest into a passbook savings account at a federally insured bank or credit union. The emergency savings could be a percentage of the total contribution or based on income levels, such as a percentage of contributions on the first $20,000 of annual income. Auto escalation would apply only to the retirement contributions.

Some will correctly argue that the split reduces potential retirement savings, but it also potentially reduces leakage from those accounts. When an unexpected expense arises, workers will have other savings that they can use instead of dipping into their retirement accounts.

As with all automatic enrollment plans, the saver would have complete control, and could choose to save more or less, change where the savings go, or even to not participate at all. If the employee already has a passbook account, he or she could either direct all contributions to the retirement account or send the passbook money to the existing account instead of a new one.

Savers would receive whatever tax benefit their plan type offers for retirement contributions, but they would not receive any additional tax advantages for the passbook balances. They could withdraw money from the passbook account at any time without any penalty. And those balances would earn whatever interest rate the bank or credit union is paying on passbook accounts.

Because the passbook account feature is under the legal framework of a retirement plan, it would be appropriate that no more than half of the total contribution would go into general savings. In addition, a plan should be required to set its base contribution rate at 6 percent of income before it could offer such a feature. The passbook savings are intended to supplement retirement contributions, and not to replace them. And if the employer matches savings, that amount would go into the retirement account.

This type of split is possibly legal already, but there are technical issues that need to be considered. The 2006 Pension Protection Act eliminated any state legal barriers for automatic enrollment into a retirement account. It may be that federal regulators could interpret that provision as applying also to passbook amounts as the split savings is a feature of the retirement plan. If not, then legislative action would be needed. Certain provisions of the PATRIOT Act may also need to be revised.

And to encourage employers to offer such an account, regulatory burdens should be kept to a minimum. An employer would be considered to have met its responsibilities for picking an appropriate product under the federal Employee Retirement Income Security Act if it chooses a simple passbook account at any federally insured bank or credit union. Adding an automatic enrollment passbook savings account could make 401k-type retirement accounts even more valuable to new and low-to-moderate income savers. Retirement would always remain the primary reason to save, but the split contribution would make a 401k more attractive and help to build a general savings habit.

The headlines seem pretty good. Unemployment fell a tick to 7.3 percent. And jobs growth continued, with payrolls expanding by 169,000 in August, which is just shy of the 175,000 new jobs that analysts were expecting.

But beneath the headline: blech!

The most important news was the revisions to what we had previously thought was a healthy and perhaps self-sustaining recovery. Instead, jobs growth in July was revised from 162,000, to a weak 104,000, and June was also revised downward. Taken together, this month's revisions means we've created 74,000 fewer jobs than previously believed. And the previous jobs report subtracted another 26,000 jobs through revisions. Moreover, for reasons that remain a mystery, revisions have tended to be pro-cyclical, meaning that the healthy recovery we thought we were having might have been expected to yield further upward revisions. All this means that analysts are hastily revising their views.

The other bad news comes from the household survey, where employment fell 115,000, leading the employment-to-population ratio to decline by 0.1 percentage points. So the decline in the unemployment rate isn't due to folks getting jobs; instead, it's due to people dropping out of the labor force.

I have two simple metrics I use to measure the "underlying" pace of jobs growth. The first puts 80% weight on the (more accurate) payrolls survey, and 20% weight on the noisier household survey. That measure suggests employment grew by only 112,000 in August. The alternative is to focus on the 3-month average of payrolls growth, which suggests we're creating slightly around 148,000 jobs per month.

Bottom line: This report says that we're barely creating enough jobs to keep the unemployment rate falling from its current high levels. Policymakers have been looking for a signal that the recovery has become self-sustaining. This report doesn't provide it. And until we're confident that the recovery will keep rolling on, we should delay either any monetary tightening, further fiscal cuts, and definitely postpone the legislative shenanigans that Congress is threatening.

The Brookings Institution today launched the Center for Universal Education, an initiative that will develop and disseminate effective solutions to the challenge of achieving universal quality education. The center becomes part of the Global Economy and Development program and will conduct research and analysis, convene meetings and host policy forums to enhance policy development and understanding on a range of issues relevant to the achievement of universal quality education for the world’s poorest children. Jacques van der Gaag, senior fellow, and Rebecca Winthrop and David Gartner, fellows, will serve as co-directors of the center.

Van der Gaag has been a distinguished visiting fellow in Global Economy and Development at Brookings since 2006 and researched the economics of poverty, the economic consequences of HIV/AIDS and international health care financing. He was most recently a professor of development economics at the Faculty of Economics and Business at the University of Amsterdam. Winthrop, an expert in the field of education in contexts of armed conflict, most recently has been the head of education for the International Rescue Committee and teaching at Columbia University. She will focus on education in contexts of mass displacement, state fragility, and armed conflict and the role of education in long-term solutions for peace and development. Gartner is an expert on global education, global health and international development who recently has been a visiting scholar at Harvard University. His research will focus on global education and the role of international institutions and foreign assistance in global development.

“We are very pleased to welcome these new scholars and the Center for Universal Education to Brookings,” Brookings President Strobe Talbott said. “The center will strengthen and complement our current efforts to contribute to global education and development.”

Established in 2002, the Center for Universal Education (CUE) was previously part of the Council on Foreign Relations and was directed by Gene Sperling. Sperling left the Council on Foreign Relations earlier this year to become senior counselor to U.S. Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner.

“Jacques, Rebecca and David’s expertise will help CUE develop and disseminate effective solutions to the challenge of achieving universal quality education,” said Kemal Derviş, vice president and director of Global Economy and Development at Brookings. “The center will continue to be a leading forum for shared learning in the global education policy community and will seek to project its own ideas into broader public debates in ways that will strategically support its core mission.”

The new center will focus on the provision of universal quality education among the world's poorest countries. Its affiliated scholars will conduct research and produce policy proposals around the core objective that every child should receive a quality basic education. It will also analyze the challenges and opportunities for the sufficient and effective funding of and programming for universal quality education.

What a way to start the new year. Decades of Saudi-Iranian tensions reached a new high this past week. The cycle of reactions to Riyadh’s execution of prominent Shiite cleric Nimr al-Nimr on January 2 is a reminder of how the Saudis, and their Iranian rivals, have viewed and used sectarianism throughout the tumultuous period since 2011.

Al-Nimr was arrested in 2012 and subsequently sentenced to death for allegedly "seeking ‘foreign meddling’ in Saudi Arabia, ‘disobeying’ its rulers and taking up arms against the security forces." The arrest was meant not merely as a signal to Tehran, but at least as much to Saudi Arabia’s own Shiite minority. Shiites comprise as much as 20 percent of the Saudi population, and are concentrated in the oil-rich Eastern Province—and the community has regularly erupted in protests against its economic and political marginalization. In 2011, amid the Arab Spring uprisings in majority-Shiite Bahrain, Saudi Shiites also demonstrated for the release of long-held prisoners, and Saudi forces shot and killed several Shia in the streets.

Riyadh’s decision to carry out the death sentence was greeted with demonstrations in Iran and attacks on Saudi diplomatic facilities. This Iranian reaction must have been calculated, as al-Nimr has been on “death row” for a very long time. In response, Saudi Arabia quickly cut ties with its longtime geopolitical foe and urged fellow Sunni governments to follow suit. So far, Bahrain and Sudan have also cut off relations, and both Qatar and the UAE have downgraded them. 

Governments on both sides of the Sunni-Shiite divide found a sectarian narrative useful in rallying their populations and in justifying their actions in response to the 2011 Arab uprisings. The sectarian narrative has helped the parties in this larger regional power struggle mobilize support by playing up the sectarian dimension of protests in Bahrain, the Assad regime’s crackdown in Syria, and the breakdown of inclusive politics in Iraq. Likewise, many Sunni-led countries have found sectarian rhetoric an effective way to rally Sunni citizens, intimidate their own Shiite populations, and to justify crackdowns on dissent. 

Governments on both sides of the Sunni-Shiite divide found a sectarian narrative useful in rallying their populations and in justifying their actions in response to the 2011 Arab uprisings.

Last April, I wrote that Iran was likely to escalate its asymmetric efforts to destabilize Arab politics by exploiting the cracks within Arab societies. They have done so, and it is a form of escalation the Saudis are ill-equipped to match. Last summer, I suggested that the Sunni Arab states could defend best against this Iranian subversion by tamping down sectarian tensions and working to heal the rifts within their own societies through inclusive political and economic policies. So far, I have not seen much effort from the Arab Gulf states in that direction—instead, they have doubled down on divisive sectarianism in Yemen and elsewhere. As this escalatory spiral advances, civilians will pay the price. 

Some are portraying the decision to execute al-Nimr as a negative Saudi response to Iranian efforts at rapprochement over the last few weeks. I do not necessarily see it that way, because the Iranians have done as much as the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) states to provoke and exploit tensions between the two in recent times. That notwithstanding, there is no question this execution will inflame sectarian tensions in the Gulf and Iraq, as well as present the Islamic State with new opportunities. 

It has been clear for some time that the U.S. focus on the threat from the so-called Islamic State is simply not matched by the Saudis, who are far more concerned about Iran and Shiite expansionism than by this violent extremist Sunni group in their neighborhood. As such, the execution and ensuing crisis brings the clash of U.S. and Saudi interests into sharp relief and has the potential to become an inflection point in regional affairs – not necessarily because of the way the Saudi and Iranian governments choose to play, but because of how others might react.

For example, Iraqi Prime Minister Haider al-Abadi quickly and publicly condemned the execution. The execution—and the inevitable crackdown on Shiite protests in Qatif—might increase pressure on Abadi from Shiites in Iraq (and from Iran) to demonstrate sectarian preferences in his rhetoric and policy. That could prevent him from moving forward on steps Washington has been pushing to bring Iraqi Sunnis back into the political fold. This easily could threaten the anti-Islamic State campaign in Iraq, since it relies on Sunnis in Ramadi, Mosul, and elsewhere turning away from Islamic State and back toward the Iraqi state. Iraqi counterterrorism forces have taken much of Ramadi, but they cannot hold it without local Sunni support.

Increased Islamic State influence in the Arabian Peninsula would certainly challenge the Saudi government and prompt a renewed securitization of domestic policy.

The Islamic State worked hard to stoke sectarian tensions within the Gulf states over the past year, carrying out attacks on Shiite mosques in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait. The GCC leaders were not drawn in at that stage, instead expressing solidarity with their Shiite compatriots. But this time, a Sunni Gulf government is taking steps that exacerbate sectarian tensions—and that could very easily push the Islamic State to take up the issue again by attempting more such attacks. Increased Islamic State influence in the Arabian Peninsula would certainly challenge the Saudi government and prompt a renewed securitization of domestic policy. It would be an ironic outcome of a Saudi move—47 executions, mostly of Sunni extremists—that was intended to deter ISIS sympathizers. At a moment when low oil prices and a tightened financial future constrain their capacity to coopt a large, underemployed, youthful populace, this is not a recipe for stability.

The possibility that ISIS will gain from this crisis illustrates the problem with governments self-interestedly wielding that sectarian narrative is that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, and it actually increases the incentive on both sides of the sectarian divide to escalate their real power competition, both directly and through proxies. Today, that narrative of sectarian conflict is far more than rhetoric in Iraq and Syria, where a true intercommunal conflict is underway. 

More immediately, the ripple effects of al-Nimr’s execution spotlight American policy dilemmas in the region. The escalation in sectarian conflict threatens the nascent Syrian peace process. It increases the Islamic State’s scope for action there, threatens the political dimension of the anti-Islamic State strategy in Iraq, and incentivizes Sunni extremism in the Arabian Peninsula. It pushes the Yemen war further from resolution as well, leaving al-Qaida in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP) with room to grow and plan attacks against the American homeland. And it puts the United States into a very tight spot as it continues diplomatic dialogue with Iran in the wake of the nuclear agreement. Given this beginning, 2016 looks to be an even tougher year for the United States in the Middle East than 2015.

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The United States alliance with Saudi Arabia dates back to 1943, making the U.S. relationship with the Kingdom one of America's longest-standing in the Middle East. Saudi Arabia is a key counterterrorism and diplomatic partner within the region, yet the alliance has come under increasing scrutiny in recent years, especially in the period following the 9/11 attacks, when questions about Saudi support for extremist causes emerged. Saudi Arabia’s prosecution of the war in Yemen has added to the criticism, with many observers blaming the Kingdom for the unfolding humanitarian crisis within the Arab world's poorest state. In recent comments, President Barack Obama has been critical of Saudi policies, despite U.S. logistical and intelligence support to Saudi Arabia’s war effort in Yemen.

On April 21, the Intelligence Project and Center for Middle East Policy at Brookings hosted U.S. Senator Chris Murphy of Connecticut to discuss the U.S.-Saudi alliance with Senior Fellows Bruce Riedel and Tamara Cofman Wittes. Senator Murphy has urged a more rigorous approach to cooperation with Riyadh that balances U.S. counterterrorism interests, strategic imperatives, and human rights concerns, and has led efforts on Capitol Hill to debate the war in Yemen. Cofman Wittes, director of the Center for Middle East Policy, provided introductory remarks and moderated the discussion. 

 Join the conversation on Twitter at #USSaudi.

Video

• Reassessing the U.S.-Saudi partnership

Audio

• Reassessing the U.S.-Saudi partnership

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• Uncorrected Transcript (.pdf)

Event Materials

• 20160421_us_saudi_transcript