In early May 2015, U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry made a historic but little noticed visit to Somalia, a country no other U.S. secretary of state had ever visited. His trip symbolized both how far Somalia has come—from the blackest days of civil war, clan infighting, and famine in the 1990s; to the brutal rule of the jihadi group al Shabab in the late 2000s; to something getting closer to normal now—and how very far it still has to go.

The fact that a high U.S. official could enter the country at all speaks of real security improvements. During his visit, moreover, Kerry announced the reopening of a U.S. embassy in Somalia, which had been closed since 1991 when the government of long-term dictator Siad Barre collapsed. But the fact that Kerry’s visit was a brief few hours—during which he did not even leave the heavily-guarded Mogadishu airport—also points to deep and persistent security challenges. Moreover, his meeting with Somali President Hassan Sheikh Mohamoud and Prime Minister Omar Sharmarke comes at a time when the relationship between international donors and the Somali government has soured and the Somali people have grown increasingly weary of their government. The early optimism that the 2012 election of Mohamoud by appointed members of the Somali parliament would usher in badly needed changes in Somali politics, toward inclusiveness, effectiveness, and accountability, dissipated long ago.

Indeed, an observer’s bullishness about Somalia very much depends on his or her baseline. Compared to the early 1990s or 2011, when al Shabab controlled most of Mogadishu and most of central and southern Somalia, with only the semi-autonomous regions of Puntland and Somaliland escaping its grasp, Somalia is in much better shape. However, when compared to the spring of 2013, when I took a previous research trip there, the 2015 spring (my latest trip), and summer hardly look peppy. Security is tenuous, with al Shabab and the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) forces stuck in a draw, and politics has been regressing to many of the same old discouraging patterns.

The rest of 2015 and 2016 are important times for Somalia. They could either resurrect optimism about the country’s progress or reinforce disappointment. The current AMISOM mandate expires in November 2015. By 2016, as a compact between the international donors and Somalia government specifies, presidential elections are supposed to take place, a constitution redrafting is to be finished, and the transformation of a centralized state into a federal one with states formed is to be completed. From the perspective of the middle of 2015, this agenda looks daunting.

AL SHABAB’S BATTLEFIELD

After struggling against al Shabab for several years and hunkering down in a few blocks of Mogadishu, AMISOM forces, with the assistance of international private security companies and international funding, finally began to reverse the al Shabab tide in 2011. As clan militias defected from al Shabab, AMISOM succeeded in pushing the terrorist group out of Somalia’s major cities. U.S. air and Special Forces attacks against al Shabab leadership eliminated some key figures, such as the group’s amir, Ahmed Godane, in September 2014 and its previous leader, Aden Ayro, in May 2008.

That said, al Shabab is hardly defeated—even if its membership is thought to be down to around 6,000, with the most potent and hardcore Amniyat branch down to perhaps 1,500. (Such estimates, given by Somali government officials and international military advisors, need to be taken with a grain of salt, since the capacity of insurgent groups to replenish their ranks often outpaces the capacity of counterinsurgent forces to kill or arrest the groups’ members.) The group’s spectacular terrorist attacks in Kenya and Uganda, such as the one on Nairobi’s Westgate Mall in September 2013 and on a teaching college in the city of Garissa in April 2015, don’t necessarily mean that al Shabab has lost the capacity to operate in Somalia. In fact, if anything, al Shabab’s operations have become more targeted and more effective, and generate more casualties with the militant group losing fewer fighters. The fact that the group has deeply infiltrated Somali military and police forces helps it in that regard.

Although AMISOM still holds the major cities that it won back from al Shabab as part of the 2014 Operation Eagle and Operation Indian Ocean, al Shabab’s presence in supposedly liberated cities is often robust. The group extorts shopkeepers and intimidates the local population with threatening night letters that regularly appear in public spaces. People routinely receive cell phone texts such as “You forgot to pay your zakat (religious tax); tomorrow we cannot guarantee your security.” Such intimidation is prevalent even in Kismayo, a strategic port in the southern region of Juba that used to be a key source of revenue for al Shabab from customs and smuggling items like charcoal. Kismayo, and the newly-formed state of Jubaland, are controlled by Ahmed Madobe, who defected from his role as al Shabab commander several years ago and, with the support of Kenyan forces, took control of the area and declared himself president of the state.

Over the past year, al Shabab attacks have also escalated in Mogadishu. Assassinations are a daily occurrence. Many government officials have to live and work (often in the same room) in hotels close to the Mogadishu airport, a palpable symptom of the decline in confidence and sense of security since 2013. The fact that some assassinations are actually perpetrated by rival politicians, warlords, and businessmen, with al Shabab happily taking the credit, does not lessen the sense of insecurity.

Al Shabab also controls roads and limits AMISOM’s movement. Attacks on AMISOM convoys and IEDs are frequent. In fact, despite its two much-touted offensive operations last year, AMISOM is mostly in defensive garrison mode. Rarely does it actually fight al Shabab; in advance of AMISOM’s clearing operations, al Shabab often disperses. Usually, by the time AMISOM arrives, it finds a ghost village (sometimes destroyed by al Shabab). AMISOM leaves, and al Shabab comes back from the bush. Often locals, at best, sit on the fence and, at worst, continue to support al Shabab because of their calculation that al Shabab will ultimately be the dominant force in their area.

That does not mean that Somalis actually like al Shabab: Its brutality is still shocking; memories of the militant group’s aggravation of the 2011 famine are still vivid; and al Shabab has hardly been a competent ruler enabling local economic growth. Instead, the group often tried to suppress or undermine vital economic markets, such as in qat. And, thanks to its control of the roads, ordinary Somalis fear traveling on them. Those who are willing have to be prepared to pay bribes of about $30 dollars to travel to Mogadishu from Merka and over a $100 to travel from there to Kismayo. Only the wealthy can absorb such costs, increasing Somalis’ frustration and sense of insecurity. Likewise, urban Somalis are quick to point out that inflation, including the cost of basic food items, has significantly increased since deliveries must now either come by air, be smuggled in, or are levied with substantial extortion fees and illegal taxes.

STUCK IN THE SAND WITH AMISOM

On the other side of the fighting, AMISOM nominally numbers 22,000 soldiers from Burundi, Djibouti, Ethiopia, Kenya, and Uganda. It could and should be much more efficient in its fight against al Shabab. But it is not clear how many soldiers are actually on the ground at any one point. The capacity and training of the AMISOM deployments varies widely across the countries. Some of the forces, such as those from Burundi, do not speak English and have little training overall. Many of these militaries were built during their country’s own political revolutions and have had little deployment or battle experience since. Very few of the deployed troops have had any counterinsurgency training and they lack logistics, medevac, and intelligence and reconnaissance support. AMISOM was to be equipped with ten helicopters, with Uganda promising to provide four and the other United Nations member states the rest. Three, however, crashed into Mt. Kenya as they were flying from Uganda to Somalia, and Uganda is now in dispute with the international community over who will pay for the destroyed aircraft.

Moreover, the original expectation that a United Nations force would eventually replace AMISOM has long since died. Nor do the AMISOM forces necessarily want to get out of Somalia (or fully defeat al Shabab): The international funding they receive for their effort makes for good living for their soldiers and a substantial financial boost for their military institutions. Moreover, their presence in Somalia allows them to pursue their regional interests and enhance their importance with the broader international community.

AMISOM has weak headquarters to which few member countries pass on any information, let alone intelligence, or bother to coordinate. Some AMISOM commanders maintain highly personalized and sometimes outright subversive agendas: There are credible rumors that AMISOM units have sold fuel and arms to al Shabab or looted humanitarian convoys.

The fact that AMISOM is organized into five sectors operated mostly by one of the AMISOM member countries does not help with coordination and planning. The division of the sectors reflects the strategic interests of the intervening forces. Kenya and Ethiopia, although they have suspended some of their mutual rivalries, still mostly cultivate proxies in their sectors to create buffer areas, prevent the leakage of terrorism into their countries, disrupt support for separatists within their own countries, and project land and sea power. Offensive operations are decided mostly on a sector basis, with the forces in each area reporting and taking orders from their own capitals. Whether captured weapons are handed over to Somali forces varies by sector. So does how al Shabab terrorists are dealt with. There is little coordination among the sectors and little planning at AMISOM headquarters; in fact, they are generally only interested in working together when headquarters has something to offer to them, such as logistical support via the United Nations.

Not surprisingly, it has been hard for AMISOM to hold and build a “cleared” territory. At first, AMISOM forces exhibited little interest in providing any governance functions or even conducting stabilization operations, such as repairing bridges or providing clean water systems. They expected the Somali security forces and government to do so. But Somalia hasn’t been able to because local governance structures are frequently destroyed, blocked off by al Shabab, dominated by problematic powerbrokers, or lack resources. And so AMISOM has come under pressure from the United States and the international community to take over these stabilization functions.

Pushing AMISOM into stabilization operations is a difficult call. On the one hand, it should be the responsibility of the local and national government to administer its territory, and the credit for doing so should accrue to the Somali government, not to foreign forces. On the other hand, local communities are frustrated by the lack of security and services after AMISOM clears a territory. In either case, it isn’t clear that AMISOM militaries could do much better at governance, since they, too, lack resources and training. And the political sensitivities abound. Somalis do not see themselves as African, but rather as Arab; and al Shabab can easily label Burundi, Uganda, Kenya, and Ethiopia as Christian invaders. Although Somalis are deeply divided along scores of clan divisions, they also identify as nationalists, opposing foreign intervention.

If AMISOM does take on a stabilization role, it should be limited, discreet, and concrete, including short-term support for building water and other infrastructure. One of the current ideas is to deliver quick-impact projects only when some, even interim, local authority has been created and is supported by local peace committees consisting of clan elders, imams, women’s groups, businessmen, and civil society members. Even though the projects could still become fronts for graft, any accountability is better than none.

SOMALI NATIONAL FORCES IN TATTERS

Another major official combatant in the war is Somalia’s own forces, consisting of the army, police, and militarized intelligence service. They have not been able to provide stabilization operations on their own because, as still mostly a collection of disparate militias, they lack the capacity. They remain beholden to clans and powerbrokers, and lack both a national ethos and training. When pressure rises, they mostly fall apart or return to militia behavior. Underpaid and often not paid for months, they frequently resort to selling their equipment to obtain some income. They are also notoriously infiltrated by al Shabab. The paramilitary intelligence service run by the National Intelligence and Security Agency, and the preferred partner of U.S. and Ethiopian counterterrorism efforts, is somewhat better, but also rather brutal and beholden to clan politics.

Not surprisingly, the Somali people do not trust their national forces. Although the federal government nominally controls the national forces (while explicitly not controlling regional militia forces), its presence beyond Mogadishu is limited and it depends on AMISOM and international support for protection from al Shabab and rival powerbrokers. In order to wean itself off AMISOM, defeat al Shabab, and suppress regional conflicts, Somalia’s national forces would need to be significantly bigger than they are now at about 10,000 fighters. But donors, aware that a large percentage of foreign military aid disappears into personal pockets of Somali politicians, are reluctant to commit more money for larger Somali security forces.

The security forces of the semi-autonomous state of Puntland are somewhat more capable, but insecurity in Puntland, too, has been increasing since al Shabab was pushed into the state from central Somalia. Numbering perhaps about 4,000, the forces include a state-armed militia/police force known as darawish as well as other police forces and custodial forces. Many other unofficial entities also operate in Puntland, including the Puntland Security Force, which is paid by the United States to fight al Shabab and presumably reports to the Puntland president, and the Puntland Maritime Police Force, which is paid for by the United Arab Emirates. The latter was originally created to fight pirates, although recently it has also apparently been dispatched to fight al Shabab in the Galgadud area. The Puntland government has little interest in integrating these forces into the Somali national armed forces.

Somaliland remains the most secure part of Somalia with the best functioning government­—although, of course, the local leadership there continues to want to secede from the country and establish independence. Mediation talks in Ankara facilitated by Turkey collapsed in the spring of 2015. Since then, Somaliland has been preoccupied by presidential and parliamentary elections for the state government, which were to be held on June 26, 2015. But despite popular demand and strong pressure from international donors, the elections were delayed by at least 17 months due to a lack of preparedness, (as they had previously been in Puntland). This delay undermines governance and accountability in the state.

THE VICIOUS CIRCLE

It is not just security that has been sliding in Somalia for the past year and half. Equally, the sense of political momentum has dissipated. In 2013, there was a great deal of optimism among the Somalis whom I interviewed that Somalia hit rock bottom in 2011 and that the pernicious clan politics that plagued the country for the past three decades have ended. They placed a great deal of hope in their President, Mohamoud. A Somali professor and member of the country’s civil society, he was not a former warlord nor a member of the diaspora parachuted in. And although he was elected by a parliament of appointed (or self-appointed) clan elders and former warlords, he was not seen as beholden to any particular clan. The international community, including the United Kingdom and the United States, also embraced him.

But that was then. With little control over the country’s armed forces and budget, and unable to tackle pervasive and extensive corruption, the president fell back on one source of support: his Hawiye clan. And so the cycle of exclusionary politics began again, privileging access to business deals for his supporters and promoting clan backers for government positions.

Mohamoud’s government was soon paralyzed by the infighting between him and his prime ministers (a familiar story in Somalia over the past decade), whom he would repeatedly seek to replace. The Somali constitution makes the president the symbol of authority, but his role and relationship with the prime minister is not clearly defined. Ultimately, the constitution is generally interpreted as mandating a Hawiye president and a Darod prime minister. That design is meant to encourage inclusiveness. In truth, however, it mostly led to a struggle between the president and prime minister, mimicking the power fights between the two main clans.

The constant turnover of government officials at the federal and subnational levels is another major problem: With appointments often lasting only a few weeks, officials have far more interest in quickly making money and placing allies in other public sector positions than in governing effectively and building equitable and accountable state institutions—or any institutions for that matter.

To give itself legitimacy, the government has embraced a brand of conservative Islam that is not as far from al Shabab’s teachings as many would like. The president is reputed to have admiration for the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt and is said to consider Mohamad Morsi, the imprisoned former Muslim Brotherhood–affiliated president of Egypt, a personal friend.

Indeed, the contest for political legitimacy in Somalia revolves around four elements: Who is more Islamic? Who is more nationalistic? Who delivers better security? And who is less corrupt and delivers better services? For years, the Somali federal government has struggled to win on any of these fronts. And it has exhibited little recognition of, or interest in, the problems of clan marginalization and poor governance, even though these grievances thrust Somalis into al Shabab’s hands.

To address some of these problems, under a 2013 compact between the international community and Somalia, Somalia was supposed to hit three milestones by 2016: hold presidential elections; adopt a new constitution; and form subnational states. All are important, and none is easy to do, much less do well, in the given timeframe. Yet international donors, not wanting to repeat their frequent sin of setting up conditions but still delivering aid after a Somali government fails to meet them, are loath to relax the 2016 timeline.

Pervasive insecurity makes holding national elections difficult. It also enables fraud and heightens feelings of purposeful exclusion. AMISOM has helped little when it comes to providing security for a vote. And the government has made few preparations itself. So far, there is not even a voter registry. In late May 2015, the Somali government launched a census effort (a step toward creating a voter registry). However, the census itself could lead to new conflict, particularly if the resulting counts of the Hawiye, Darod, and other clans and subclans make any one group unhappy—as is almost sure to happen. Meanwhile, the fact that the independent electoral commission is located within the presidential palace of Villa Somalia, even if for legitimate security reasons, makes it seem potentially biased and illegitimate.

But there is little alternative to holding a national election. Many Somalis want to see a change in government; and international donors are also increasingly frustrated with the current one. Perhaps the president could again be appointed by members of parliament, with all the legitimacy limits such a process brings. Ultimately, though, a vote and the creation of real political parties is important. It is the only way to realign Somali politics away from narrow clan parochialism and individual patronage networks and toward broader national representation and coalitions. But few Somali powerbrokers have an interest in allowing their formation; even under the best of circumstances, they will not materialize by the 2016 election.

It is also possible that the international community will agree to postpone the elections. It did so in Puntland, it now has to live with it in Somaliland; and it may do so again at the national level. Even if national elections do not take place, it is worth considering whether some subnational elections (such as for the mayor of Mogadishu) could be held to facilitate greater accountability.

The next task is revising the constitution in a way that increases inclusiveness. Donors do not want the redrafting process to drag on for years, as it has in Nepal for over a decade. Somalis are already disappointed with initial drafts, though: Quotas for women have disappeared from the constitution, and progressives have little faith that the current language—women should have a “meaningful representation” in all elected and appointed positions—will achieve progress. Moreover, the constitution drafters are still to tackle some of the most politically contentious issues, including how power (including arms, taxes, and other resources) will be distributed between the center and the newly forming states.

But the fact that Mogadishu has accepted federalism and power decentralization is perhaps the greatest political accomplishment in years. Competition over who controls Mogadishu and crucial resources has, for years, been a major source of conflict and corruption. Few outside of the capital, including Hawiye clans who dominate business there, want to be ruled by it.

However, there is as yet little agreement about the relative balance of power between the center and subnational states, including whether they will be allowed to retain their militia forces as some sort of paramilitary police. In the Jubaland State, Madobe, whose self-declared presidency was accepted by Mogadishu on an interim basis in 2013 for two years, has so far shown no inclination to give up control of any of his forces. In the Southwest State that has also been formed, local state officials decry the absence, incompetence, and untrustworthiness of national forces and clamor for their own armed services.

In both Jubaland and Southwest States, the state formation process was unable to avoid fighting between warlord and clan forces over which areas would be included in which state and under whose control. In Jubaland, the process ended with Madobe’s victory over the forces of Barre Hirale’s (who are still mostly hiding in the bush). In the Southwest State, the two local rivals created a coalition government, with over 60 ministers and plenty of built-in political dysfunction, nepotism, and paralysis. State formation still needs to be completed in other areas, such as the Shabelle. In April 2015, a state-formation conference was launched for the Central Regions State. Some representatives continue to question whether six states are enough and others are debating which state their territory should belong to.

How to generate revenues is another major challenge in the federalization process. Neither the state governments nor the national one trusts the other to share revenues: The states do not want to give up land taxes to the federal state; but the federal government strongly dislikes the idea of having to rely only on the tax revenues from fisheries and maritime routes. And the promise of potentially huge mineral resources under the Somali sand only makes the federal versus state competition more intense.

How control is devolved matters a lot. The biggest danger is that the exclusionary politics over spoils and war rents that have dominated Mogadishu for so long will be replicated at the local level. And given how the state formation processes have been going, there are reasons to fear that the clientalistic patronage networks that systematically discriminate against rivals will be reestablished at the state level. In some areas, especially in the Juba Valley, that is already underway, creating a significant number of internally displaced people and potentially allowing al Shabab to insert itself into the area on the side of the oppressed.

IT’S GOOD GOVERNANCE, STUPID

Over the past few decades, international actors have not paid enough attention to subnational governance in Somalia, and they are running that risk again. Many, including the United States, focus predominantly on the problem of al Shabab, even though al Shabab is merely the latest result of poor governance. Many of the crucial donors lack presence outside of Mogadishu, which limits their understanding of life at the regional, town, and village levels. Local peace committees of clan elders, imams, and representatives of civil society and the business community can be an important mechanism of better governance. But the international donors need to work with them, and to be aware of the politics behind the peace committees—such as, for example, of who is selected for them and who is excluded. Other international actors, such as Kenya and Ethiopia, often embrace problematic powerbrokers for the sake of their strategic and counterterrorism interests, even though these powerbrokers ultimately undermine stability.

Fundamentally, whether Somalia succeeds in breaking out of decades of conflict, famine, misery, corruption, and misgovernance depends on the Somali people. It depends on whether a sufficient constituency for better governance and less conflict eventually emerges or whether Somali businessmen and politicians continue to find the way to work around conflict or make money from it while the Somali people eke out survival amidst the harshest conditions without mobilizing for change. Since 2012, Somalia has had one of the best chances to pull off such transformation in years. It should not waste it.

This article was originally published by Foreign Affairs.

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.

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.

Event Information

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?

Transcript

• Uncorrected Transcript (.pdf)

Event Materials

• 20130917_retirement_savings_transcript

Australia's economic performance has been the standout among advanced economies for several decades. With economic growth at nearly twice the pace of US or Germany over the past decade, a remarkable 25 years without a recession and a large, highly competitive mining sector despite the end of the resources boom, Australia remains a strong economic participant in a region of the world where future global growth is likely to be generated.

But with drivers of growth over the past 25 years unlikely to be the engines of growth in coming decades, now is not a time for complacency. And if there's one lesson from Britain's decision to leave the EU, it's that that disruptive forces are sweeping through the global economy. Australia, with its cohesive politics and economic success, has been able to avoid the worst of these problems, but the dangers are present if the economic challenges are not met.

To start with, the impacts of the reforms of the 1980s and 1990s are fading. The investment boom in mining is over, and the prices for mining and agricultural exports will probably remain subdued with slower growth in China. While Australia's incomes were boosted by the improved terms of trade, this has partially reversed. The housing boom will inevitably eventually slow.

As evidenced by the results of the Brexit referendum, there is a distrust of the political and economic elites that have led the world's biggest economies. Disruptive, rapid changes in technology have not led to broad-based productivity growth. Workers in many countries have been left with stagnant incomes and governments with rising public debt.

Industry policy has a bad name among American economists who see it as a manifestation of "capture" where special interests are able to obtain subsidies from taxpayers or special protections that are not in the national interest. The modern theory of industry policy, however, recognises that a well-designed policy can actually help markets work better, therefore helping an economy like Australia's make the transition to a new growth path when faced with changing economic conditions. Productivity is the key to high growth and rising incomes – and well-designed industry policy can help.

Structure of trade competitiveness

Take, for example, Australia's manufacturing sector. Mostly because of comparative advantage, it is the smallest among all advanced economies relative to the size of its economy. In 2010, Germany had 21.2 per cent of its workforce in manufacturing while Australia's was 8.9 per cent. While it's not surprising that Australia's structure of trade competitiveness differs from Germany's because of its enormous export strength of mining and agriculture, it will benefit by taking advantage of its highly skilled workforce and the potential to develop industries based on this human capital – including advanced manufacturing industries.

One of the traditional strengths of the American economy is the close link that exists between leading universities and businesses – an area Australian policymakers are seeking to improve upon. At MIT and Stanford, professors of engineering, biology, finance or economics finish their lectures and head off to the companies they run or advise. They often enlist graduate or undergraduate students to help them with their commercial projects and these collaborations often result in jobs as well as experience. There is a danger in this model if pure research loses out to business interests, but the interaction between academia and the practical needs of companies can largely improve both research and business profitability. It's worth recalling that even the giants of science in the 18th century were motivated by the need to improve navigation or build new machines or design buildings. Funding for research should support greater industry-university cooperation as highlighted by the Watt Review.

Another important element in Australia's continued economic success is the growth of its service industries. With most jobs in these industries, the performance and productivity of services will be the largest determinant of Australia's living standards. Productivity comparisons between Australia and the United States show that Australian productivity lagged behind the US as recently as the mid-1990s, but there has since been substantial catch-up taking place. Smart regulation that promotes competition and rewards innovation are necessary to bring up the laggards. While there is a continuing debate about the possible end of productivity growth in advanced economies, Australia can still do much to catch up to global best practice.

The winners of this weekend's election will be charged with answering an important question: what is the role of government in a modern economy? How they answer that will determine future prosperity for all Australians.

Martin Baily is a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution in Washington and a former chair of the US President's Council of Economic Advisers. He has been invited by the Australian Ministry of Industry Innovation and Science to report on lessons from the US for policies to enhance economic growth, innovation and competitiveness.

Warwick McKibbin AO, is the director of the Centre for Applied Macroeconomic Analysis in the ANU Crawford School of Public Policy and is a non-resident senior fellow at the Brookings Institution.

Editor's note: this opinion first appeared in Australian Financial Review.