Army embeddedness,political opportunities and threats,and the dynamics of contention: Understanding the varying role of the armed forces in the Egyptian,Syrian,and Libyan 2011 revolts

Abstract

In many Middle East and North Africa (MENA) countries, the army has traditionally been a central pillar of the authoritarian regimes, responsible for the security and integrity of the state and a symbol of national sovereignty and social unity. Nevertheless, the 2011 Arab revolts witnessed stark differences in the response of the armies. This article argues that a relational reading of the Structure of Political Opportunities and Threats, particularly when its dimension of the state’s capacity and propensity for repression is informed by a MENA-salient regime feature—army embeddedness—offers a compelling solution to the puzzle. An analysis of the Egyptian, Syrian, and Libyan episodes of contention, based on a comparative method that combines mechanism-based process tracing and typological theorizing, demonstrates the theoretical payoffs of this sensitized dimension. Cross-case similarities underscore the value of thinking about the army as a full-fledge agent embedded within a web of relations with social and political forces. Specifically, findings reveal how army embeddedness shapes the respective operation and effect of the mechanisms “political opportunities” and “political threats,” and highlight the importance of differentiating between the state’s capacity and the state’s propensity for repression. Within-case variations highlight the historically specific development of such embeddedness and how it plays out distinctively in each case, forming different scenarios of high and low capacity and propensity for repression.

Keywords

Arab Spring army embeddedness causal mechanisms contentious politics political opportunities political threats process tracing relationalism

A growing body of works on the 2011 Arab Spring has demonstrated how Middle East and North Africa (MENA) similarities and dissimilarities to non-MENA episodes of popular contention are context-sensitive and emerge from the dynamics of contention among the various actors involved (e.g. Bayat, 2017; Beinin and Vairel, 2013; Gunning and Baron, 2014; Kurzman, 2012; Lawson, 2019; Owen, 2012; Alimi et al. 2016). A central aspect of the dynamics of contention during the Arab Spring that demonstrated remarkable diversity out of what appeared to be robust commonalities is the response of the armies to mounting contention (e.g. Albrecht et al., 2016; Barany, 2011; Brooks, 2013; Frisch, 2013; Gaub, 2013; Volpi and Clark, 2019). In many MENA countries, the army has traditionally been a central pillar of the authoritarian regimes, responsible for the security and integrity of the state and a symbol of national sovereignty and social unity. Nevertheless, the Arab revolts witnessed stark differences in the armies’ response, with equally striking variations in how those responses influenced trajectories of contention. In some cases, the army sided with the dissident camp (e.g. Tunisia, Egypt); in other cases, the army fervently supported their regimes (e.g. Syria, Bahrain); and, in yet other cases still, the army split in their loyalty and support between the regime and the rebel camp (e.g. Libya, Yemen).

Given their long-standing interest in studying the repression—dissent nexus, scholars of social movements, and contentious politics have promoted various lines of explanations to make sense of the divergent responses of the armies and the militaries more broadly (inclusive of the armies and internal security services). Adopting an agency-based strategic logic, Chenoweth and her collaborators point to the importance of diverse mass mobilization facilitated by nonviolent resistance, in maximizing leverage over the military elite’s decision whether to remain loyal to the regime or to defect (e.g. Chenoweth and Cunningham, 2013; Chenoweth and Stephan, 2011). Offering a combination of structural and rational choice logics, others have argued that loyalty or defection is a function of economic and political benefits to the military forces, combining with the perception of a regime’s strength and the international community’s response to the conflict (e.g. Nepstad, 2013; Parsons and Taylor, 2011). A third line of explanation centers on relational patterns and practices between protestors and forces of social control, either as emerging out of contentious interactions (e.g. Moss, 2014) or as reflecting specific features of the state–military–society structure of relations (e.g. Ketchley, 2017; Lawson, 2016).

This article expands on the latter relationally oriented works, and, more broadly, on relational analyses of social movements and contentious politics (e.g. McAdam et al., 2001; Diani and McAdam, 2003; Mische, 2011; Tilly, 2004; see also Jasper and Duyvendak, 2015).¹ I argue that a focus on interactions and relations between contending parties generates complementing insights into how structural factors play out, and how interest-based (and values and perceptions for that matter) strategic choices and decisions grow out of, and change in the course of contention. Where this article adds to the above relationally oriented works is, first, linking the analysis of how pre-existing and emerging relational patterns and practices shape the response of the army,² to the concept of the state’s capacity and propensity for repression—a central dimension of the Structure of Political Opportunity and Threat theory (SPOT—see, McAdam, 1999; Meyer and Minkoff, 2004; Tarrow, 1998 [1994]). Second, I utilize a central regime feature salient in the MENA context, labeled “army embeddedness,” to sensitize the relational reading of SPOT and demonstrate how it contributes to the theory. This contribution relates to the expected influence of low state capacity and propensity for repression (i.e. political opportunity) and high state capacity and propensity for repression (i.e. political threat) on the emergence and early development of contention. Specifically, I demonstrate how variations in the degree and scope of army embeddedness, which involves mutually symbiotic relationships the army form and manage with political and social forces, give rise to multiple scenarios of the relationship between state capacity and propensity for repression (e.g. high propensity yet a low capacity for repression). By informing the operation and expected influence of political opportunities and political threats, the concept of army embeddedness encourages us to rethink the tendency to juxtapose the state’s capacity and the state’s propensity for repression. The third contribution lies in the comparative method employed, which is particularly fitting for theory development—a within-case and cross-case comparative analysis that combines a mechanism-based process tracing (McAdam et al., 2001) and typological theorizing (George and Bennett, 2005). A comparative analysis of how a particular set of initial conditions that typifies a group of cases—the MENA-salient regime feature of army embeddedness—informs the respective operation and effect of the mechanisms “political opportunities” and “political threats,” facilitates the development of theoretically meaningful generalizations without losing sight of case-specific particularities.

In what follows, I discuss how army embeddedness informs our understanding of the ways in which the mechanisms of “political opportunities” and “political threats” generate their respective effects on the openings and trajectories of contention. Based on this discussion, I offer a typology of varied relationships between the state’s capacity and state’s propensity for repression. I then discuss the research strategy and comparative method utilized, the cases analyzed (comprising three neopatrimonial, personalist/sultanist-like regimes of Egypt, Syria, and Libya that represent, respectively, the three abovementioned responses of the armies), and the type of sources used. The analytic part fleshes out within-case variations and cross-case similarities. It offers a short historical background to the development of military embeddedness in each case, setting the stage for an analysis of how the degree and scope of army embeddedness informs the operation of political opportunities and political threats in specific yet similar ways.

Army embeddedness, political opportunities and threats, and the dynamics of contention

The Structure of Political Opportunities and Threats applies to the world outside of social movements and other popular challenges. It refers to a mixture of exogenous dimensions of the political struggle, and features of the political establishment and regime more broadly, that create a more favorable (i.e. possibilities and opportunities) or unfavorable (i.e. constraints and threats) constellation of conditions. These unfolding conditions may encourage or discourage the movement from increasing its engagement in contentious collective action, by altering its strategic position and, hence, its ability to exercise political leverage more or less effectively (McAdam, 1999; Meyer and Minkoff, 2004; Tarrow, 1998 [1994]).

The state’s capacity and propensity for repression is one of the various dimensions proposed by scholars over the years. According to McAdam (1996), this dimension refers to the implementational and attitudinal resources that state authorities have or can mobilize to cope with domestic challenges. Like other related dimensions, it helps explain the emergence, development, and outcome of popular contention, a product of the unpredictable nature of repression and the complex social processes that structure its operation. Through their security authorities, and agents of social control more broadly, states may be more inclined to try to suppress certain movements or the same movement after its leaders or specific factions adopt goals or tactics that are more radical. In other times, states may be unable to mobilize the social control capacity or political will and support necessary, particularly when a given movement does fairly well in terms of the other dimensions of political opportunities and political threats, and vice versa (McAdam, 1996: 28).

Despite recognizing the influence of complex social processes in structuring the operation of repression, reflecting scholarly awareness of less volatile and more stable dimensions of SPOT that reflect or are linked to regime features, how this structuring plays out is underspecified theoretically. One reason for such a deficit relates to how the concept of SPOT came to be understood and used—focusing on the formal institutional dimensions of politics, and employing heavily structural terminology. While the “structural bias” of SPOT was passionately and rightly criticized by social movement scholars for neglecting its perceptual and emotional aspects (Goodwin and Jasper, 1999, 2004) until fairly recently this critique did not incorporate the essentially interactive and relational features of SPOT. A relational reading of SPOT approaches changes in the political conditions in dynamic, continuous, and processual terms, and as essentially comprising patterns of contacts, ties, mediation, and bargaining unfolding in various arenas of interaction, either horizontally (i.e. between established political actors and institutions) or vertically (i.e. between established political actors and other political forces inside and outside the state). From the perspective of a social movement, this means a focus on alterations in its strategic positioning vis-à-vis the political establishment, a positioning that reflects a more favorable or unfavorable balance of political opportunities and political threats, and the subsequent influence on its political leverage (e.g. Goldstone, 2004; Alimi et al., 2015; Jasper and Duyvendak, 2015). As will be discussed below, the renewed recognition of the relational features of SPOT coincided with the surge of scholarly attention to causal mechanisms, in this case, “political opportunities” and “political threats.”

A second reason relates to the overrepresentation of liberal-democracy’s features and assumptions (e.g. formalism, legalism, a separation between private and public spheres), in shaping models of social movements and popular contention—SPOT included. Despite recognizing that SPOT refers to features of political regimes (e.g. Tilly and Tarrow, 2015), the study of the former still lacks features drawn from nondemocracies and other highly repressive political settings (notable exceptions are: Brockett, 1991; Einwohner, 2003; Alimi 2009; Leenders and Heydemann, 2012). These features refer, among other things, to the informal, interpersonal, complex, organic-like, and interconnected relationships between states and societies, which have come to be associated with what scholars have labeled neopatrimonialism or personalist/sultanist regimes (e.g. Chehabi and Linz, 1998; Migdal, 2001; Stepan and Linz, 2013).

The combination of a relational reading of SPOT and its infusion with features gleaned from non-liberal/democratic regimes in general, and MENA regimes in particular, bears on how we think about the state’s capacity and propensity for repression. Specifically, a central regime feature, known to be common and salient among MENA states, that informs our thinking about how this dimension operates and produces its effects, is army embeddedness. In speaking about army embeddedness, I follow others to mean the close engagement of the army in forming and managing relationships of exchange, mutual enhancement of interests and goals, as well as partnerships with social and political actors (Cook, 2007; Lawson, 2016; Levy, 2007; Sheefer and Barak 2013). The concept of army embeddedness is valuable both empirically, helping us make sense of the divergent responses of the armies in the various Arab revolts, and theoretically, encouraging us to rethink the tendency to juxtapose state’s capacity and state’s propensity for repression.

In liberal-democracies, it is plausible to expect the government’s (or the cabinet) propensity for repression to reflect or act as a useful indicator of the capacity for repression, such that there is congruence between high propensity and high capacity and, conversely, low propensity and low capacity. This is the case given the high level of separation between the political and security echelons, a separation that corresponds with the Huntingtonian model of civilian control over the professional army. In this model, the army must not get involved in politics, remains politically neutral, and similar to the police—act as implementer and executer of governmental decisions and policies, fulfilling its role as the body responsible for the security and integrity of the state (Huntington, 1981).

The situation in nondemocracies, MENA’s regimes included, presents an alternative conception of state–society–army relations, which, to borrow from Bellin’s (2012) important analysis of Middle East authoritarianism, problematizes the tendency to conflate the capacity and propensity for repression. Notwithstanding meaningful variations in the degree and scope of embeddedness, which are indicative of how that regime feature develops historically in each case (later discussed and labeled initial conditions), it is possible to point to a prevalent model of the state-army-society structure of relations. In this model, the army constitutes a full-fledged actor that has vested political, economic, and social interests, alongside maintaining indirect power and influence. This differs from other internal security agencies and services (e.g. the police), which, despite armed operational branches, or being present at the local, day-to-day level, tend to lack the same degree and scope of embeddedness of the army. Among other things, this may relate to their relatively smaller size, limited responsibilities and tasks, clandestine mode of operation, or personal loyalty or accountability to the ruler or ruling party (Lawson, 2016). As a politically and socially embedded agent, the army engages in forming and managing mutually symbiotic relationships with other institutional and non-institutional forces both inside and outside the state. This network, or system of relations, affords the army both possibilities and constraints that combine to shape its choices, decisions, and actions in any given context, which, in turn, creates opportunities or threats for those other institutional and non-institutional contending actors with whom it interacts.

Analytically, an important leverage can be gained by examining how army embeddedness informs relational practices and patterns between the army and political and social forces, practices and patterns that reflect either contact and association or separation and detachment. This mode of investigation promises to enhance understanding of the specific response of the army and the effect of this response on the development of contention. Specifically, it is theoretically informative to examine how variations along these lines combine to create varied scenarios of the relationship between capacity and propensity for repression in ways that shape the strategic positioning and political leverage of specific contending actors favorably or unfavorably. Based on the above discussion, it is possible to propose four basic scenarios or types of relationships between the capacity and propensity for repression, as seen in the two-by-two matrix (Figure 1). Importantly, the four scenarios are basic, representing an attempt to capture the relationship between the two components at a particular stage of the cycle of contention, not in its entirety. Additionally, the Figure lacks reference to the two main aspects of army embeddedness discussed above—social and political; it also lacks references to those relational practices and patterns that develop historically and shape the degree and scope of embeddedness in a given case, and which give rise to a specific scenario in ways that reflect favorable or unfavorable changes in SPOT.

Figure 1.

A typology of state’s propensity and capacity for repression.

We will elaborate on and address these aspects in the following sections. At this point, it would suffice to present these types and their respective representative cases briefly. The first scenario of high propensity and high capacity is located in the lower-right cell and is exemplified in the case of Syria. In this scenario, the social and political embeddedness of the army constitutes a reflection of the regime, in this case, a regime dominated by the Alawite minority population. Perceiving the preservation of their interests and privileges, in fact, their actual survival, as inextricably linked to the regime’s survival and Alawite control more generally, initially pushed the Syrian army to support Assad most fervently. The second scenario, illustrated in the case of Egypt, is that of high propensity and low capacity. In this scenario, features of political and social embeddedness may bring the army to refuse to follow the government’s instructions, such that the propensity for repression of the latter would have little implementational attainability. As will be demonstrated, the eventual siding of the Egyptian army with the protesters was, inter alia, the result of a long-standing symbiotic relationship of mutualism with the entirety of the population. The third scenario is low propensity and low capacity, illustrated here by the Libyan cycle of contention. In that case, the highly limited and deeply fragmented political and social embeddedness of the army developed into gradually broadening instances of defection and expressions of loyalty to the rival secessionist camp, to the point of crippling the government’s ability to present a united front and to carry out repressive policy measures.

The fourth scenario represents a combination of low propensity and high capacity for repression. Similar to the Syrian case scenario, the army’s interests and privileges are perceived as being under threat because of movement activism. However, in this scenario, the political echelon wavers or refuses to eliminate that threat. This may be because the movement, as discussed above, does reasonably well in terms of other dimensions of SPOT, or because of the expected bearing of other regime features not studied here (e.g. different degrees of neopatrimonialism (Chehabi and Linz, 1998]). We will not include this scenario in the analysis below for these reasons, and also more practical ones relating to space constraints. Nonetheless, it is possible to identify features consistent with this scenario in the events leading to the Egyptian Military coup of 2013. Amid intensifying clashes between Pro-Mursi and anti-Mursi activists, the refusal of President Mursi to invite the army to restore law and order and, more broadly, attempts to undermine the latter’s sources of political power and influence, prompted the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces to oust Mursi and his government and crash his supporters.

Research strategy, methods, and data

A comparative method that combines mechanism-based process tracing and typological theorizing is useful for demonstrating how a relational reading of SPOT and its infusion with the MENA-salient regime feature of army embeddedness bears on how we think about state’s capacity and propensity for repression. As noted, the usefulness of a relational reading of SPOT is also methodological. Relationalism is commensurable with a mechanism-based process tracing research strategy, a strategy that moves away from focusing solely on root-causes or anticipated outcomes to focusing on how specific trajectories emerge from the dynamics of contention. Mechanisms are deemed particularly suitable for such an exploration not only because they help specify how the effect is exerted based on a systematic and structured analysis of “what follows what” (George and Bennett, 2005). Mechanisms also cast attention to events that change relations among actors in various social contexts.

As a research strategy for the analysis of contentious politics relationally, the utility of a mechanism as a key expression of, and a tool for, capturing dynamism is not limited to a single case-study analysis but is equally useful as a yardstick of its comparison. Following McAdam et al. (2001: 24), mechanisms form a delimited class of events that alter connections among specified sets of elements in identical or closely similar ways over a variety of situations. As a research strategy for the analysis of contentious politics comparatively, a mechanism-based process tracing stands at the heart of McAdam et al.’s (2001) Dynamics of Contention. Expanding on McAdam et al.’s (2001) formulation by drawing on subsequent refinements and developments by proponents and critiques alike (e.g. Alimi et al., 2015; Kriesi et al., 2019), the analysis that follows pays greater attention to sources of differences in the operation of recurring similar mechanisms—in this case, political opportunities and political threats.

Admittedly, McAdam et al. (2001) demonstrated the promise of their research program for detecting similarities and dissimilarities by showing how similar mechanisms combine differently across cases to drive a given process. An important, yet overlooked, source of dissimilarities-in-similarities is found in the composition of forces that constitute a mechanism. Moving down the level of abstraction to treating a mechanism as a process, implies recognizing that the set of underlying constitutive forces of a given mechanism varies across cases or groups of cases. This variation is a function of the unique set of properties and traits of each case or group of cases—what Goldstone (1998) and others (e.g. Alimi et al., 2015) call initial conditions, referring to the accumulated, historically specific characteristics and features of a given case or group of cases, be they social, cultural, political, and so on.

While a group of cases may share a particular social, cultural, or political initial condition, which distinguishes it as a type, the way that initial condition developed historically in terms of degree and scope is case-specific. Case-specific initial conditions inform the mechanism’s mode of operation—the delimited class of events and occurrences, which, in turn, constitutes the mechanism’s effect or outcome (Bunge, 1997; Demetriou, 2009). It follows then that case-specific initial conditions inform also the set of interacting actors or agents whose relations are altered. Moreover, as a logical extension, initial conditions also give rise to relevant fields or arenas of interactions (Goldstone, 2004; Jasper, 2006) and inform their relative weight—those same structures that give the “class of events and occurrences” its raison d’etre as a category unto itself (Demetriou, 2009). Drawing on these methodological foundations, it is possible not only to point to revealing similarities between MENA and non-MENA episodes of popular contention as they pertain to the operation of the recurring mechanisms of political opportunities and political threats. It is also possible, and more central to the goal of this article, to utilize differences in regime-specific initial conditions between types of cases to generate valuable theoretical insights (George and Bennett, 2005).

The literature on MENA states and societies suggests army embeddedness as a prevalent feature of political regimes that captures a meaningful segment of the relevant universe of definable features, what George and Bennett (2005) and others (e.g. Ragin, 2000) call “property space,” and is also most suited to the goal of this study. Indeed, the three cases under study—Egypt, Syria, and Libya—effectively embody army embeddedness, and yet the degree and scope of army embeddedness, and how it informs the operation and influence of the mechanisms vary by case. Regime properties, in turn, are also useful for case selection logic, as they facilitate the identification of differing cases in the same type. Notwithstanding noticeable differences, the three cases under study fall within the category of neopatrimonial, personalist/sultanist-like regimes—a system of rule characterized as highly personalized, autocratic authority cemented through patronage networks and clannish/tribal relationships of loyalty and dependence (Chehabi and Linz, 1998; Guliyev 2011), arguably the category in which we observed the greatest variation in the dynamics of contention (Goldstone, 2016). This cross-case similarity and within-case variation make the comparison of the three cases particularly fitting for typological theorizing.

As further discussed below, the eventual siding of the Egyptian army with the protesters was, inter alia, the result of a long-standing symbiotic relationship of mutualism with the entirety of the population. This differs from the fervent support of the Syrian army for Assad’s regime, which was largely the result of the army’s mutual symbiotic relationship with the Alawite minority population. Whereas army embeddedness in Egypt informed the respective operations and effects of the mechanisms through events reflecting fraternizing and distancing between protesters and elements of the security forces, in Syria the type of events reflected deviation, withdrawal, and activation of ethnic boundaries.

The analysis that follows is based on a well-established theoretical construct (i.e. SPOT), with its respective related mechanisms of political opportunities and political threats and the dimension in which they operate and exert their effects. This deductive approach to typological theorizing (George and Bennett, 2005), the main purpose of which is the assessment of the causal powers of both mechanisms, relies on two types of sources. The first type of sources is the vast and rich historical accounts of MENA states and societies, as well as the surge of more specific works on the 2011 Arab revolts. The second type of sources consists of a rich collection of news accounts, reports, and assessments published by news agencies (e.g. Al Jazeera, Reuters, the New York Times, the Guardian, BBC) and information centers (e.g. the International Crisis Group, the International Affairs Review) this author complied between 2011 and 2016.

Army embeddedness and political opportunities and threats: a within-case and cross-case comparison

An analysis of the early development of contention in the Egyptian, Syrian, and Libyan episodes illustrates how army embeddedness informs the operation of political opportunities and political threats and highlights the variable, complex relationship between capacity and propensity for repression. Consistent with one of the central goals of this study, which is to highlight cross-case similarities without losing sight of case-specific particularities, the analysis offers a short historical background to the development of army embeddedness in each case. This, in turn, sets the stage for an analysis of how the degree and scope of army embeddedness inform the operation of political opportunities and political threats in specific yet similar ways.

The Egyptian cycle of popular contention (25 January to 11 February 2011)

Compared with Libya and Syria, Egypt ranks high in terms of the degree and scope of both political and social army embeddedness. This dates back to the Egyptian revolution of 1952, following which the army became a symbol of national sovereignty and social unity, as well as an institution of socialization. Politically, despite occasional attempts to reduce the direct involvement of the army in politics (e.g. President Sadat’s decision to reduce the number of government ministers with military background in the early 1970s; Kandil, 2012), the army continued to play a central and decisive role in shaping Egyptian politics. As the central institutional pillar of the political establishment, the army was not only the locus from which the leaders of Egypt come from, but also the source from which many key administrative roles and positions in both the state and public sectors were occupied (Koehler, 2016; Parsons and Taylor, 2011; Springborg, 1989).

Socially, in contrast to the police and other security services, the army was a highly popular institution in the sense of being representative of the class and religious makeup of society, and exercising inclusive recruitment and promotion policies. It was also popular in the sense of enjoying a positive image among the population. According to Aclimandos (2011), the army was seen as one of the institutions most respected by Egyptians, if not the most respected, and as the most efficient, most modernizing, and least corrupt institution in the country. Importantly, it was also seen as the least unjust toward the poor, making the most effort on their behalf (p. 6). The social embeddedness of the army extended at times to taking the role of provision of educational, medical, and other basic needs to populations in the periphery (Frisch, 2013). The presence and footprint of the army in Egyptian society were so ubiquitous that it was simply impossible for it to go unnoticed. A major outgrowth of both aspects of embeddedness regarded the fact that the army became a central player in the state’s economy and the business sector. Through what became known as the Arab Organization for Industrialization and the National Service Projects Organization, the army’s economy expanded its operations and activities into practically all aspects of social, daily life, and national infrastructure. Army-led and controlled companies and plants were responsible for building and running factories for civilian purposes and consumptions (e.g. house appliances), including tourism and hotels, land development and construction, production of petrochemicals and electricity, as well as environmental projects, such as wastewater treatment and renewable energy (Abdul-Magd, 2013; Chams El-Dine, 2016; Frisch, 2013).

Despite attempts by Mubarak to weaken the army—most centrally by strengthening the power of the police and promoting the succession of his son, Gamal Mubarak, which also meant greater economic reforms to the detriment of the army’s economic interests—the army nevertheless remained a powerful actor with significant influence on the course of the “Egyptian Spring.” In fact, the exceptionally high level of multifaceted army embeddedness made what turned out to be the first stage of the Egyptian episode relatively fast and swift. To be sure, the operation of political opportunities and political threats included the type of events and occurrences that initially combined to reflect a scenario of high propensity and high capacity. In response to the first large-scale demonstrations—initiated by youth activists and members of some political parties in several main cities in what would become known as the “day of rage” of 25 January—the police and the Central Security Force (CSF—Mubarak’s shock troops) lashed out at the protesters mercilessly and indiscriminately. In the following days, in the face of spreading unrest to additional cities and regions, police brutality intensified as the government tried to impose a curfew and blocked Internet access and other social media and cell phone services (Ketchley, 2017).

Of paramount consequentiality, however, was the stance and response of the army, which, at first, refused to become actively involved. Despite theretofore-growing tension and the widening rift between the army and Mubarak-led cabinet, the privileged status and vested economic and political positions of the former made it a more logical decision to buttress the status quo. This helps account for the halfhearted response to the popular chanting, “the army and the people are one hand,” which fueled uncertainty and fears among demonstrators that the deployment of army forces in main cities on the 28th meant reinforcement of the government’s capacity for repression. Indeed, uncertainty and fear were not groundless. Historically, the army had been deployed onto Egyptian streets in the past (e.g. the 1977 Bread Riots) and sided with the regime to restore order harshly and resolutely. Protesters in Tahrir Square and other sites knew about this and other historical precedents, and the possibility that the army would side with the regime all over again was seriously discussed (Ketchley, 2017). Evidence in support of such a possibility was not in shortage. According to Barany (2011), “The top [military] worked quietly to advance its position in the government while some army units were actually detaining and abusing protesters or enabling the police to assault them” (pp. 27–28).

The deployment of army units coincided with the start of a gradual withdrawal of the Egyptian police and the CSF. The withdrawal was the result, first, of a surge of condemnations and pressures by Western governments on Mubarak in light of the excessive repressive measures employed (Ritter, 2015). Second, it was also the result of violent attacks on police stations carried out by the protesters, which prompted Interior Ministry officials and police field commanders to rush to protect their bases of operations (Ketchley, 2017). As it turned out, the deployment of the army in major urban areas, the unmediated presence of units in sites and spaces of contention, as well as the intensive friction between soldiers and civilians, all combined to gear forward the operation of political opportunities, generating a scenario of high propensity and low capacity for repression.

More than Mubarak’s appointment of General Omar Suleiman as the first (ever) Vice President on 29 January, and the restoration of the Internet on 2 February, it was the realization of the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) that it was about to lose its sources of legitimacy and risk massive insubordination (Barany, 2011; Cook, 2011; Kandil, 2012), that became impactful. This realization sharpened in the face of the unleashing of extensive violence by Mubarak’s loyalists and supporters, comprising police and paramilitary forces, against the unrelenting, in fact, broadening demonstrations. The sources of this realization, however, and the resultant decision to back the popular revolt, and, following a meeting of the SCAF without Mubarak on 10 February, to announce on Mubarak’s departure and relinquishment of power to the military, were more profound. These sources were found in the deep social embeddedness of the army. In contrast to protestors’ failed attempts to stimulate feelings of solidarity and a sense of underlying community of sentiment and interests—what Ketchley (2017) labels fraternization—with the CSF, attempts with the army were more successful, with powerful effects. According to Ketchley (2017: 52–53), even though the idea was circulated early on, the actual strategy and related tactics of approaching and engaging army forces through various acts and gestures of face-to-face interaction emerged and polished through improvisation and innovation. It was this set of fraternizing performances, inclusive, for example, of hauling on armored vehicles, repetitious chanting of solidarity-inciting slogans, embracing and taking pictures with soldiers, and offering and sharing food, which was consequential in prompting the SCAF to declare its commitment to protecting the people on 10 February, to the detriment of Mubarak’s capacity for repression.

The Syrian cycle of popular contention (17 February to 25 April 2011)

While similar to its Egyptian counterpart in its political and social army embeddedness, the Syrian case nonetheless presents some meaningful peculiarities. Compared with Egypt, the Syrian army represents a more limited in scope version of social embeddedness, yet a more radical one politically. The Syrian case exemplifies a version of political embeddedness in which the army has little if any autonomy from the political echelon, which is dominated by the Arab Socialist Ba’ath Party and championed by its Secretary-General and the state president Bashar al-Assad. Historically, it was Hafez al-Assad (Bashar’s father)—a member of the military faction that had a leading role in the Ba’ath’s rise to power during the 1960s—who later took over and “militarized” the Party, as well as securing its status in a 1973 constitution as leader of the state and society. An almost two-decade-long history of attempted military coups between 1948 and 1967, and yet another one he plotted and executed in November 1970, brought Assad to develop a tight system of checks and restraints on the army, to prevent it from acquiring autonomous bases of power and to secure its loyalty to the regime. In addition to manning key Party positions with Alawite officers and constructing a Party institution called the Military Bureau to oversee the Syrian army, this system included an overwhelming body of security and intelligence services, to the point of becoming a Mukhabarat (secret services) state (Farouk-Alli, 2015). Moreover, Assad adopted the practice of constant rotation of senior officers in order to undermine their competence, exercised a highly centralized officer selection process conditioned on allegiance to the Alawite-dominated regime, and appointed family members to command the most competent and combat-ready elite units and forces (Ma’oz et al., 1999). This highly selective, elite-like structure and design of the army also shaped and was shaped by a clear-cut ethnoreligious societal divide. Thus, while it would be accurate to state that the Syrian army was embedded socially this embeddedness was largely limited to the Alawite community, which constituted a glaring Shia minority (12%) of the remaining, largely Sunni population.³ It is indicative that Alawites constituted the vast majority of career soldiers and officers, and totally dominated the General Staff. It is telling that these strata of career-oriented soldiers and officers were those who also benefited professionally and socially at both the individual and communal levels (Faksh, 1984; Wieland, 2012). This system of social embeddedness of the elite army was a reflection of the overall Alawite-dominated regime, to the point of perceiving their actual survival as inextricably linked to the survival of Assad’s regime particularly, and Alawite control more generally.

The features of army embeddedness of the Syrian regime informed the respective operations of political opportunities and political threats in ways that initially combined to create a scenario of medium-to-high propensity and high capacity for repression, yet quickly developed into a high propensity and relatively low capacity for repression. The Alawite-based sectarian nature of Assad’s regime, and the resolutely repressive nature of the Syrian police state more broadly, rendered even the smallest instance of the authorities wavering in their response to popular dissent a meaningful indication of political opportunities. From the perspective of the opposition forces, there were two types of such indications. When the first, major public demonstration took place on 17 February, in the old city of Damascus, in response to ordinary police beating of the son of a shop owner in the Hariqa Quarter’s market, something extraordinary happened. Despite the unprecedented nature of the event—the first public demonstration against the regime since the 1980s at the heart of the state capital by more than 1500 people chanting “the Syrian people will not be humiliated” and, meaningfully in a secularist and socialist regime, “There is no God but Allah”—the authorities responded in a surprising fashion. Instead of sending their foot soldiers to crack down on the protesters,

the Minister of Interior, Major General Said Sammur, drove into the middle of the crowd, got out of the car without any visible bodyguards around him [. . .] and started to discuss with the protesters across the roof of the car. (Weiland, 2012: 17)

This type of relational practice of engagement with protesters was meaningful because it represented a political style, which, however rare, was much respected and effective in resolving local conflicts. Indeed, some of the protesters at the scene became hopeful that their voices would be heard, leading them to chant “With our soul and our blood we’ll fight for you, Bashar!” However, it was equally meaningful because it contrasted with two other recent expressions of dissent—hunger strikes in Syrian prisons and a small sit-in in support of Egyptian demonstrators in early February—in which the security authorities responded swiftly and brutally. These kinds of contrasting developments continued to unfold, gradually marking a pattern of escalation whereby any additional expression of political opportunities was met with a more profound expression of political threats. Thus, ironically, throughout this process, the propensity of repression became higher yet the capacity for repression weakened.

If the above initial expression of political opportunities unfolded vertically between protesters and authorities, two additional and arguably more meaningful types of events unfolded horizontally between established political actors, which expressed deviation and withdrawal. On 8 March 2011, during a routine parliamentary session, two independent Members of Parliament did the unthinkable and dared to publicly challenge the ruling Ba’ath Party and its head, shockingly proposing to review the actual practice of the emergency laws. These emergency laws had been in place since the Ba’athist Coup of 1963 and suspended most constitutional protections for citizens. Later, following an announcement of a “day of rage” on 15 March in Dar’a and Hama—an announcement which was broadly met with a significant spread of contention to other cities and which brought the regime to overreact mercilessly (see below)—an even more radical act of deviation and withdrawal took place. Whereas the defying proposition to review the emergency law was raised by MPs from outside the ruling National Progressive Front, comprising the Ba’ath Party and several other satellite parties, in late April dissent came from inside the Ba’ath establishment and was exponentially more sizable. This act of dissent by more than 200 Party officials, reflecting a broadening and deepening rift from within the Ba’ath Party-dominated political establishment, unfolded in response to the indiscriminate, lethal crackdown and subsequent siege and bombing of the city of Dar’a, beginning 15 March and lasting till early May (Leenders, 2012).

The events and developments leading to, and unfolding in Dar’a, and the broadening of contention to an ever-growing number of cities and rural places, pushed the regime to engage in an extreme form and mode of repression. Resolute and brutal repression by Syrian police, the Mukhabarat included, was not new, but the events in Dar’a’s saw two meaningful developments that projected political threats not only to the space of action of the opposition forces but also to their sheer existence. It quickly became clear to the Ba’ath Party’s top leadership and heads of the army, as well as the security forces and pro-regime militia forces, that the spreading unrest turned into a struggle for survival (Wieland, 2012: 20), with growing instances of protesters demanding the downfall of the regime and of Assad. This realization triggered an Alawite siege mentality, cementing the codependency and inextricable link between the security and civilian elements of the regime to the highest extent possible.

First expressions of events reflecting this activation of ethnic boundary took place in Dar’a—revealingly a predominantly Sunni city known as being highly loyal to, and an integral part of- the Ba’ath regime (Leenders and Heydemann, 2012). When parents approached the local chief of political security and pleaded for the release of their kids who were arrested and tortured by the secret police for painting anti-government graffiti, they were met with degrading and humiliating responses (Donker, 2018; Leenders, 2012). According to Wieland (2012), responses, like “Make new ones! And if you don’t know how to do it, send over your women and we’ll help you” . . . “was too much even for the rural Syrian people who suffered plenty of arbitrariness in their lives” (p. 20). When relatives took to the streets on 11 March, standing in front of the governor’s house and demanding the release of the children, they were met by bullets (Donker, 2018: 53).

It was, however, the ruthless siege on Dar’a that expressed how political threats became imbued with ethnic boundaries most meaningfully. While trying to present the siege of Dar’a, beginning 25 April, as a necessary measure to eradicate Islamist fundamentalist instigators, it was clear that the regime’s deployment of massive special army and police forces around and inside the city was for upholding Alawite domination at all cost. According to Leenders and Heydemann (2012), the level of coercion suggested a shoot-to-kill policy, involving the deployment of snipers on rooftops, shelling of entire neighborhoods by tanks, and prevention of medical treatment for the injured (p. 143). While reports on the level and scope of defections from the army vary in their estimates, it is nonetheless clear that as late as July 2011 defections were scarce, with hardly any defectors coming from the Special military units, and none being Alawite (Barany, 2011; Parsons and Taylor, 2011). What this meant, however, was that the unwavering propensity for repression came at the expense of the capacity for repression, as fervent support and high military skills of Alawite-dominated army units and forces could not fully compensate for limited manpower and other material resources and logistic challenges.

The Libyan cycle of popular contention (13 January to 1 March 2011)

Compared with the popular nature of the Egyptian army and the elite nature of the Syrian army, the Libyan army represents a hybrid version, where both popular and elite features play out differently in shaping the degree and scope of political and social embeddedness. Similar to its Egyptian and Syrian counterparts, Qaddafi’s Libya had a pervasive military apparatus, comprising the army, secret services (Mukhabarat), as well as militias, and paramilitary forces. Much like Syria and, although to a lesser degree, Egypt, Qaddafi’s Libya had a security “inner circle” with forces reporting to, and receiving orders directly from the president. Unlike Egypt, yet much similar to Syria, the institutional fusion of the political and military echelons and a history of military coups (at least four in Qaddafi’s case Barany, 2011]) generated a system of checks and control mechanisms, designed and developed by Qaddafi, for countering the army’s strength and fighting capability. These checks and mechanisms included tribal-based ethnic control, random rotation and selection of senior officers, oversight from other security institutions, and the creation of paramilitary structures (Anderson, 1990; Gaub, 2013; Parsons and Taylor, 2011). Interestingly, however, while certainly acting to curb the potential of a military coup, Assad used the army to safeguard and consolidate his rule and Alawite domination more broadly. In contrast, Qaddafi acted to minimize the size of the army and to devoid most of its units of any fighting capabilities, material (i.e. resources and skills), and nonmaterial (i.e. morale and cohesion) alike. Except for known units (e.g. the 9th and 32nd brigades commanded by Qaddafi’s sons), the regular army was not allowed to even train with live ammunition or to conduct military exercises above the level of a company (Gaub, 2019). Additionally, these undertrained and poorly equipped regular army forces were stationed outside of Tripoli and the broader Tripolitania region, the regime’s hub of power, and focused on base defense along the East and South regions. Capitalizing on Libya’s relatively low geopolitical vulnerability and absence of a real threat to its territorial integrity,⁴ Qaddafi acted instead to develop a small, elite-like army and paramilitary units assigned with the sole and ultimate task of guaranteeing his personal security and the security of his regime.

Regarding political and social embeddedness, the myriad of elite and special military and paramilitary units and security services all relied on personal ties to Qaddafi himself, based on familial and tribal connections, membership, and loyalties, inclusive of officers and soldiers, as well as police officers from Qaddafi’s tribe who were transferred to the armed forces (Mansour, 1997). The personnel of these units not only received better weapons, equipment, and training, but also benefited from a system of political and social rewards, such as personal advisor positions, governmental positions, higher salaries, and, at times, bonuses from Libya’s oil wealth. Loyalty was secured and maintained with patronage at both political and social dimensions. Members of Qaddafi’s tribe, the Qaddadfa, and members of two of the country’s largest tribes, the Warfalla and Magarha, practically dominated the political and security echelons (Lacher, 2011). By contrast, the regular army, while popular in its inclusive recruitment and promotion policies (e.g. general conscription requirement) and potentially a symbol of national unity, as stipulated in Qaddafi’s published revolutionary ideology in late 1975 (Gaub 2013: 188), was systematically weakened, fragmented, and marginalized to the point of having no political and social standing. In addition to playing no role in achieving national sovereignty or in the extraction of scarce national resources, Qaddafi’s inherent distrust toward the regular army was translated into a series of measures meant to exclude its personnel from any form of political power and social reward system or prestige (Gaub, 2013; Mansour, 1997; Parsons and Taylor, 2011).

Similar to the Egyptian and Syrian episodes, small-scale instances of popular contention began in mid-January 2011 in several cities, such as Bani Walid, Bayda, and Benghazi, and centered on administrative misconduct and corruption related to government subsided housing, with demands for justice, freedom, and dignity. Also similar to the Egyptian and Syrian counterparts, these rather restrained and limited demands soon broadened and became more radical, primarily the result of an overreaction by the regime and its agents of social control which, in some places, was met with protesters’ counter-violence. Indeed, following previous unsuccessful attempts by Qaddafi to preempt the spread of contention through economic concessions, on 2 February a small protest in Zawiya city center by foreign workers against the local administration saw lethal repression by the police and pro-Qaddafi loyalists (Jibrin and Bello, 2020). Later, on 15 February, the people of the major Eastern city of Benghazi took to the streets and demanded Qaddafi to step down (Poljarevic, 2018). Despite the lethal assault on protesters in Benghazi, contention continued to spread to other cities, with the violent confrontation unfolding in the “day of rage” on 17 February, becoming the first indication of an all-out secession by an ever-growing anti-Qaddafi rebel camp (Anderson, 2011).

The respective operations of political opportunities and political threats were consequential in this development. In addition to events and occurrences that represented opportunities and threats observed in non-MENA episodes of contention (e.g. criticism by domestic political opposition and covert repression), the unique features of army embeddedness of the Libyan regime introduced distinctive event types, actors, and arenas into the operation and effects of both mechanisms. Specifically, the bifurcated nature of the Libyan military with respect to the degree and scope of political and social embeddedness rendered events and occurrences expressing defection and loyalty highly consequential in the operation of political opportunities and political threats. If at first the combined operation of political opportunities and political threats reflected a scenario of high propensity and high capacity for repression, the intensification of contention brought about increased instances of defections and diminished expressions of loyalty, which combined to create a scenario of low propensity and low capacity for repression.

Once preemptive attempts to co-opt domestic support failed, governmental threats made on opposition leaders proved ineffective, and popular contention gained momentum unabatingly, the “Libyan Spring” saw a ruthless crackdown on protesters. The skyrocketing numbers of people killed and injured, and the extreme means with which repression was carried out (e.g. helicopters firing into crowds of protesters), immediately generated vocal condemnation from political opposition members both within and outside Libya (i.e. exiled politicians located in Europe and the United States). Additionally, there were several instances of desertion by individual troops and defections of army units to the rebel camp (Gaub, 2019; Parsons and Taylor, 2011). These developments, however, meant little in terms of new possibilities and opportunities for the opposition forces given that the domestic political opposition consisted of politicians who were not part of the regime’s inner circle, and the army units belonged to the regular army forces with little to offer in terms of professional knowledge and fighting experience.

Importantly, the lack of any meaningful political opportunity at this early stage coalesced with the operation of political threat. It was not only the fact that the vast majority of Qaddafi’s inner political and military circles presented loyalty, which provided him with the necessary political will and support for his incessant repressive policy. In fact, in order to cope with the possibility of continued desertion and defection by regular army units after realizing the scope and magnitude of dissent, Qaddafi acted to ensure and maintain the capacity of his privileged military forces. To this end, Qaddafi mobilized his corps of North African mercenaries, as well as other mercenaries from Latin America and Europe, estimated by the thousands, and used them internally for the first time (Barany, 2011; The Guardian, 2011).

Developments in Libya began to shift to the side of the opposition following the events of the “day of rage” of 17 February, and particularly after the subsequent events in Benghazi and Tripoli. In terms of the respective, albeit combined operation of political opportunities and political threats, these developments indicated a gradual process of diminishing state propensity and capacity for repression. Partly the result of cumulative achievements by the rebels, as was the case in Benghazi, or a backlash to the brutal nature of repression on the part of Qaddafi’s elite forces, as was the case in Tripoli, beginning in 20 February it became clear that instances of defections were becoming not only more frequent but also more meaningful qualitatively. Of equal importance were the growing instances of expression of disloyalty from within the vital segments of the ruling structure of the regime (Poljarevic, 2018).

To be sure, Qaddafi acted adamantly and ferociously against any such expressions to guarantee loyalty and prevent defections. According to Barany (2011), while in certain cases Qaddafi gave out cash, in other cases he purged commanders who hesitated to use their guns against the rebels and held the families of unit commanders as hostages. Members of Qaddafi’s family and even top generals were not immune. Qaddafi’s brother-in-law was dismissed from his post at the head of the secret service for being suspected of disloyalty, and the army chief-of-staff and minister of defense, Major-General Abu Bakr Yunis Jaber, was put under house arrest after refusing to carry out orders of brutal repression of protesters (Barany, 2011: 30). As for members of Qaddafi’s political inner circle, many refrained from coming out in the open against the regime, fearing that their families would be subjected to reprisal (Lacher, 2011).

Nonetheless, the balance between political opportunities and political threats began to tilt to the side of the rebel camp. While in many cases individual soldiers deserted without necessarily joining the rebel forces, instances of defections by forces of the elite military units were more frequent and steadily so, the longer the popular challenge lasted, the broader it became. Defections involved not only increasing numbers of troops, at times units as a whole, but also high-ranking commanders who joined the rebel camps and added much needed material and nonmaterial resources. Such was the case with army and air force units based in and around Benghazi and Tobruk located in the east, and also with large segments of units stationed in the western parts of the country, such as in Kufra, Misrata, and Zawiya (Barany, 2011: 30). The cumulative effect of these defections was a dramatic shrink in the size of the army, allegedly to somewhere between 10,000 and 20,000 from it originally 51,000 (Gaub, 2019: 190). However, it was the “specific gravity” of some of the defecting forces and the significance of their act that was equally if not more meaningful. Among the growing number of defectors from the elite military units were people coming from the core foundations of Qaddafi power bases and network of support. More than a matter of weapons, sheer manpower, and fighting experiences, which to be sure were much needed and valuable, these defectors brought with them military and political management experience, the latter of which led to the formation of the Interim National Council on 27 February in Benghazi (Lacher, 2011; Poljarevic, 2018). These defectors, like Mustafa Abdel Jalil (former Minister of Justice) and Abdul-Fatteh Yunis (minister of interior and a leading military general), were the closest and most loyal political figures to Qaddafi, who, as discussed above, occupied their positions and roles based on family and tribal ties. The expression of disloyalty on the part of these high-profile members of the regime was facilitated by announcements of support for the rebel forces made by heads of the most powerful tribes in Libya—Warfalla and Magarha (Al Jazeera, 2011; see also, Poljarevic, 2018). The Warfalla and Magarha tribes, as discussed, were also the tribes whose members were disproportionately represented in the government, the military, and the security apparatus. Beginning in March 2011, it became clear that with more expressions of disloyalty more acts of defection accrued, setting the stage for an all-out secession and ensuing civil war.

Conclusion

Trying to make sense of the widely divergent responses of the armies in the 2011 Arab revolts, this article argued for the usefulness of focusing on pre-existing and emerging relational practices and patterns between contending actors that relate to the state’s capacity and propensity for repression—a central dimension of the SPOT. The analytical leverage offered by this mode of investigation, it was further argued, is enhanced once informed by a MENA-salient regime feature—army embeddedness. The degree and scope of army embeddedness generates multiple scenarios of the state’s capacity and the state’s propensity for repression and, in turn, shapes the operation and effect of political opportunities and political threats on the dynamics of contention. The comparative analysis focused on how army embeddedness informed the respective operation and effect of the mechanisms of political opportunities and political threats as applied to the state’s capacity and propensity for repression in the Egyptian, Syrian, and Libyan episodes. Cross-case similarities underscored the value of thinking about the army as a full-fledge agent embedded within a web of relations with social and political forces, and the related value of differentiating between the state’s capacity and the state’s propensity to carry out repressive acts. Within-case variations highlighted the historically specific development of such embeddedness and how it plays out distinctively in each case, forming different scenarios of high and low capacity and propensity for repression.

Notwithstanding the contributions this article seeks to make, there are admittedly additional aspects and research venues that are worth exploring. To begin with, future research would benefit from extending the line of investigation to additional theoretical dimensions and regime features. It may be particularly revealing to study how the relative openness or closure of the institutionalized political system, another highly consensual dimension of SPOT, is informed by the neopatrimonial, sultanist-like features of many MENA regimes. In this kind of regime, it is plausible to expect that increased access to preexisting avenues for participation, through, for example, concessions and reforms, would do more than just offer incentives to act contentiously—as the theory posits. Given the exclusionary and discriminatory features of the socio-political ruling system of neopatrimonialism, an opportunity for the unprivileged population is indissolubly perceived as a threat to the privileged population, which immediately raises staunchly conservative counter demands.

Another aspect that is worth exploring, mentioned here in passing, regards variations among MENA regime types. While speaking in terms of MENA countries serves an analytical purpose, it is important to keep in mind intra-regional nuances and to factor them in any future comparative analysis. Differences among MENA monarchies (e.g. Jordan and Saudi Arabia) and between the personalist/sultanist (e.g. Tunisia and Yemen—in addition to the cases compared herein) regimes, for example, in terms of alliance system or economic resources (Goldstone, 2016) have played a role in shaping the level, scope, and form of popular contention and responses of the regime.

Finally, even though the comparative point of reference in this article is Western liberal-democracies, there unquestionably are similarities and differences between MENA and other non-MENA regions and countries, such as Central and South America, which are worthy of exploration. Regardless of what similarities and differences are observed, the point to keep in mind is that certain initial conditions and features that are more or less salient in certain regimes may gain or lose salience and consequentiality depending on the issue at stake, the insurgent population and, most crucially, the complex, contingent, and open-ended relational dynamics of contention.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

I am indebted to the participants in a three-days international workshop on the 2011 Arab revolts in global comparative perspective, that took place at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem in the pre-COVID era. This article represents my attempt to develop a theme that that regretfully did not receive an explicit and systematic treatment in an edited volume that came out of that workshop, coauthored with Avraham Sela and Mario Sznajder, on popular contention, regime, and transition, and which saw light with Oxford University Press, 2016. Special thanks also go to Yitzhak Brudny, Alon Burstein, Chares Demetriou, Jeroen Gunning, Dana Moss, Avraham Sela, and Sidney Tarrow for helping me develop my thoughts on the subject.

Funding

The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

ORCID iD

Eitan Alimi

Notes

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