Military Autonomy and Balancing in Political Crises: Lessons From the Middle East

Abstract

This article argues that autonomous militaries can play a balancing role during major internal political crises. However, when militaries’ autonomy is curtailed by political leaders before the crisis, militaries cannot maintain the political balance between rulers and opponents, thereby increasing the risk of armed conflict. The article first explains the main concepts relevant to the discussion (autonomy, political crisis, balancing role), exploring their possible interlinkages and presenting several hypotheses. Subsequently, it discusses four relevant cases from the Middle East before and during the Arab revolts of 2010–2011: Egypt in 2011 and Lebanon in 1958, which demonstrate the balancing capacities of autonomous militaries during major political crises, and Lebanon in 1975 and Syria in 2011, which reveal that nonautonomous militaries cannot play a balancing role in such circumstances. The article concludes with several observations regarding the military’s balancing role during major internal political crises in divided and homogenous states.

Keywords

civil–military relations Middle East political science coups and conflicts

This article argues that a military that succeeds in maintaining its autonomy vis-à-vis the state’s political leaders can play a balancing role during major internal political crises. However, a military’s autonomy is not constant and can be curtailed by political leaders in the period preceding the crisis. When this occurs, the military cannot play a balancing role in these instances.

The discussion of military autonomy and its possible ramifications during major political crises is highly relevant when studying events in Middle Eastern states, including the Arab revolts in 2010–2011. Although the region’s states exhibit marked political, economic, social, and cultural differences, they also share important similarities with regard to their political–security nexus (Owen, 2000). First, most states in the region (which is chiefly composed of partial democracies or authoritarian regimes) have faced both domestic and external challenges to their national security over the years. Consequently, the governments of these states rank national security and the security sector—especially the military—high on their domestic agendas (Bellin, 2004; Brooks, 1998; Kamrava, 2000).

Furthermore, political leaders throughout the region have invested considerable effort in preventing military coups, which were frequent in the region during the first decades of its states’ independence (Brooks, 1998; Quinlivan, 1999). Thus, in the wake of the Arab revolts some asked whether these “coup-proofing” actions had been successful in guaranteeing the military’s loyalty to the regime (Albrecht, 2015; Barany, 2011; Bellin, 2012; Bou Nassif, 2015a; Brooks, 2017; Gaub, 2013; Lutterbeck, 2013).

As several scholars have noted, the militaries in various Middle Eastern states behaved in quite divergent ways during the Arab revolts of 2010–2011. This is true particularly in the six states that witnessed the highest levels of popular unrest in this period (Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Syria, Yemen, and Bahrain). In Tunisia and Egypt, for example, the military refused to suppress popular protests, and rulers were ousted with relatively little violence, although in Egypt a military coup occurred in 2013 and was followed by massive repression by the army. By contrast, Bahrain’s ruler succeeded in mobilizing the country’s military to quash the revolt, albeit with significant Saudi help. In Syria, too, the ruler managed to employ the military against the opposition, yet this led to an internal armed conflict that consequently became internationalized. Finally, the rulers of Yemen and Libya both mobilized the military against their opponents but failed to suppress them: They were subsequently overthrown, and internal armed conflicts ensued (Barany, 2011; Makara, 2013). Although other states in the region also witnessed public protests during this period, this did not lead to a government crackdown, and political leaders (e.g., in Morocco, Jordan, and Oman) often chose to respond with limited reforms.

This article examines the military’s autonomy as a key factor in determining its ability to play a balancing role during internal political crises. As the above examples demonstrate, in 2010–2011 the Egyptian Military, which was able to set its agenda independently of President Hosni Mubarak, managed to play a balancing role in the crisis, as did the Tunisian Military. It was only later, in 2013, that Egypt’s Military took control of the state. Yet, in the other four major political crises that occurred concurrently in the Middle East (Bahrain, Syria, Yemen, and Libya), the military could not act autonomously of the state’s political leadership and thus was unable to play a balancing role, leading to an escalation of the crisis into armed conflict in three of these four cases (in Bahrain, by contrast, the complaint military quickly suppressed protests with Saudi help).

The question of the military’s autonomy during major internal political crises is not only of contemporary relevance. For example, in 1958, the Lebanese Armed Forces (LAF), which was able to set its agenda independently of President Camille Chamoun and his political opponents, refrained from becoming involved during a major political crisis, compelling both sides to seek a compromise (see below). However, in the same year, events developed in a markedly different manner in Iraq, where the military’s unrestrained autonomy enabled it to overthrow the Hashemite monarchy, and in Jordan, where the Jordanian Armed Forces (JAF)—which was not able to act independently of King Hussein—sided with him during the crisis that beset the country (Kerr, 1971).

Later, in the Jordanian crisis of 1970–1971 (known as “Black September”), King Hussein effectively employed the JAF against the Palestinian armed factions—the Fidayun (Ajami, 1992)—and, in 1982, Syrian President Hafez al-Assad responded similarly to the revolt in his country led by the Muslim Brotherhood (Seale, 1989). In both instances, the military was not able to set its own agenda vis-à-vis the state’s political leaders, and its violent actions contributed to the escalation of the crisis into armed conflict. Between these two crises, in 1975–1976, Lebanese President Suleiman Frangieh deployed the LAF against his local opponents and their Palestinian allies; the LAF, which was unable to act independently of the president and his supporters, aggravated the crisis and nearly disintegrated during the armed conflict that followed (see below).

Thus, there is evidently a link between a military’s autonomy, on one hand, and its ability to play a balancing role during a major internal political crisis, on the other. To explore this issue, we analyze four Middle Eastern cases that took place before and during the Arab revolts: Egypt in 2011, Lebanon in 1958, Lebanon in 1975, and Syria in 2011.

The Military’s Autonomy and Its Role in Major Political Crises

This article investigates the ability of the military to play a balancing role during major internal political crises, focusing on the military’s autonomy in these instances.¹ Since the military is bound to play a crucial role in civil wars as well as in most incidents of intrastate violence, the focus on the role played by the military during political crises that may lead to such outcomes is warranted.

The question of the military’s autonomy from the civilian–political sphere has assumed a central place in the study of civil–military relations although the emphasis has mostly been on Western and (relatively) homogenous societies. Thus, in 1957, Samuel Huntington observed that civilian control over the military “exists when there is this proper subordination of an autonomous profession to the ends of policy” (Huntington, 1957, pp. 71–72). However, few studies explore the factors shaping the military’s autonomy and the extent to which an autonomous military can play a balancing role during domestic political crises, especially in non-Western settings. This article begins to address this notable gap.

In this article, we see the military’s autonomy as its ability to set an agenda independently of the state’s political leaders, despite being formally subordinate to them. Some authors posit that “[a]utonomy…refers to an institution’s decision-making authority” (Pion-Berlin, 1992, p. 84; see also Cruz & Diamint, 1998). However, we would like to suggest that it is the (actual) capacity of the military to make decisions rather than its (formal) authority to do so that is indicative of the military’s autonomy vis-à-vis political leaders.

Our focus on the military’s capacity (i.e., on a structural factor), which can help account for its behavior in major political crises, addresses a notable gap in the literature. Quite a number of studies (e.g., the contributions by David Pion-Berlin, Aurel Croissant, and Tobias Selge in Albrecht, Croissant, and Lawson, (2016); see also Jumet (2018, pp. 125–132) and the works she cites) focus almost exclusively on the military’s motivations (i.e., on a rational factor). However, such considerations are rarely disclosed by the military itself; and in any case rational explanations for the military’s behavior are predicated on the assumption that the military is a unitary actor whose leaders are capable of enforcing their definition of its interests on their subordinates, thereby raising the question of these leaders’ proclivities (cultural factor) and capacities (structural factor).² While we acknowledge that the military is an actor that seeks to promote its own interests, we suggest that a more holistic approach to the military’s behavior during major political crises, which considers rational, structural, and cultural factors and their interplay, can provide a more comprehensive account of its behavior in these instances.³

While the factors underpinning militaries’ capacities to act autonomously vary, we propose that they include the level of the military’s institutionalization (though not necessarily its professionalization in the Western sense; see Quinlivan, 1999) and, in divided societies, also the extent to which its commanding bodies, composition, identity, and performance are representative of society’s various segments (Barak, 2016; Brooks, 2017; Lutterbeck, 2013). Significantly, the military’s autonomy is not static, not least due to the various measures the regime can employ to curtail it. These include “coup-proofing” actions,⁴ which, as their name suggests, are primarily designed to preclude military coups. However, as we suggest below, these actions are not always effective and can sometimes backfire.

Crises are “processes in which the structure of a system is called into question” (Offe, 1976, p. 31). Accordingly, a political crisis represents a significant challenge to a state’s political system. In this article, we are concerned with major political crises that are liable to push a state toward internal armed conflict. During such crises, the role of the military becomes critical, not only due to the deterioration of domestic security (and, possibly, the loss of control over the state’s borders) but also because incumbent political leaders may try to use the military to quell growing popular dissent, thereby increasing the likelihood of escalation and violence. We suggest that, under such circumstances, a military that is capable of acting autonomously can maintain the political balance between the regime and its opponents, pushing all sides to attain an equilibrium. By contrast, a military that is incapable of acting autonomously of the regime can contribute to an escalation of the crisis and, possibly, the outbreak of internal armed conflict.

A military plays a balancing role during a major internal political crisis when the bulk of its officers and soldiers refrain from openly identifying with either the incumbent political leaders or their opponents. By symbolically—and sometimes also physically—positioning itself between the protagonists involved in the crisis, the military signals that it is not a stooge of the regime. In so doing, it deprives the regime of its capacity to suppress the opposition, necessitating the search for an alternative course of action, namely compromise. Simultaneously, by refraining from forcefully removing the ruler, the military indicates that it does not identify with the opposition, compelling the leaders of the latter to seek a political solution.

Based on the above, we hypothesize that while an autonomous military can play a balancing role during a major political crisis, the ability of a nonautonomous military to play such a role is limited at best. The military’s autonomy, in its turn, can be undermined by actions that the ruler adopts vis-à-vis the military in the period preceding the crisis; although, if these measures are partial and/or ineffective, the military’s capacity to play an autonomous role in the crisis may remain unaffected. Clearly, if the military does not have the ability to play an autonomous role from the outset, it will be unable to play a balancing role during a political crisis. However, such cases are not our current focus.⁵

Figure 1 presents the variety of possible connections between the military’s autonomy and whether or not this was undermined in the period leading up to the crisis, as well as the military’s ability to play a balancing role as the crisis unfolds. Note that when the military is not autonomous we expect it to be unable to play a balancing role during a crisis and that the ability of a military to play a balancing role during a crisis is contingent on the extent that its autonomy had not been undermined by the regime in the period before the crisis.

Figure 1.

Military autonomy and balancing during major political crises.

Figure 2 narrows the scope of possibilities in line with our focus on the military’s autonomy and its impact during major political crises. It includes only the expected behavior when the military had initially enjoyed a degree of autonomy. It also presents the four case studies we use to test our hypotheses: two from the Arab uprisings (Syria and Egypt in 2011) and two from earlier periods (Lebanon in 1958 and in 1975). Two of these cases (Egypt in 2011 and Lebanon in 1958) support the expectation that autonomous militaries are able to play a balancing role during periods of crisis, while the two other cases (Lebanon in 1975 and Syria in 2011) provide support for the second expectation that militaries whose autonomy is undermined lose their balancing capabilities during periods of political crisis.

Figure 2.

Military autonomy and balancing in major crises: The cases.

Next, we move to the empirical part of the article, which discusses the four cases in more detail, identifying the key actors—especially the military and the political leaders—and the unfolding of the events leading up to the crisis, the extent to which the military’s autonomy was affected, and its role during the crisis. In our analysis, we rely on numerous secondary works on these cases as well as on fresh data that we have collected (on these data, see below).

Cases

Military Autonomy and Political Balancing

Egypt during the 2011 crisis

As was noted earlier, Egypt is one of only two Middle Eastern states (alongside Tunisia)⁶ in which the military refrained from suppressing popular protests during the Arab revolts in 2010–2011 and where the ruler was consequently ousted without considerable domestic violence. Here we focus on the balancing role played by the Egyptian Military during the political crisis of 2011 which, we posit, was facilitated by the military’s autonomy in this period.

The balancing role of the Egyptian Military in the 2011 crisis may at first appear surprising because Egypt not only boasted one of the largest and most powerful militaries in the Middle East—which, furthermore, presided over a sizable economic empire—but had also been under continuous military rule since 1952 (Ketchley, 2014; Springborg, 2016). Moreover, Egypt’s rulers, all retired army officers, continuously implemented “coup-proofing” actions to cement their control over the military (Bou Nassif, 2013, 2015a; Owen, 2000).

However, in 2011, during the mass demonstrations in Tahrir Square, the Egyptian Military effectively disassociated itself from President Hosni Mubarak and the security agencies loyal to him (especially the Central Security Forces), and some of its junior officers and soldiers fraternized with the demonstrators (Ketchley, 2014). Additionally, the military positioned its tanks and Armored personnel carriers between demonstrators and security personnel loyal to the president, signaling that the military was not a stooge of the ruler and depriving him of any ability to suppress the opposition (Bou Nassif, 2015a; Ketchley, 2014). Subsequently, it became “unambiguous that the officer corps was not ready to commit a massacre in order to keep Mubarak in power” (Bou Nassif, 2015a, p. 266). Simultaneously, by refraining from forcefully removing President Mubarak from office, the military indicated to the opposition that it did not identify with its demands, necessitating the search for a political solution. The military’s independent role in the 2011 crisis left President Mubarak with no choice but to resign. Consequently, the military, through the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces, became Egypt’s governing authority until the first free presidential elections in June 2012. The military’s balancing role thus prevented an escalation of the crisis.

How can we explain the ability of the Egyptian Military to play a balancing role in the 2011 crisis? In his comparison of Egypt’s first three presidents (Gamal Abdel Nasser, Anwar el-Sadat, and Hosni Mubarak), Hicham Bou Nassif highlights the different techniques these leaders employed to control the military in the period 1952–2011. These included promoting the material interests of the army’s highest echelons, forging ideational links between the president and the military elite, conducting frequent purges of the army’s officer corps, and recurrent reshuffling of the army’s commanders (Bou Nassif, 2013). However, and unlike other Middle Eastern states (e.g., Syria and Libya), these practices did not include the appointment of the ruler’s family members as senior army officers, even when the ruler (President Mubarak) considered his son as his possible successor. Bou Nassif concludes that President Mubarak—in contrast to his predecessors, who relied on three out of these four measures—focused exclusively on promoting the material interests of top-ranking military officers (Bou Nassif, 2013). This system of patronage, in turn, not only offered these officers a clear incentive to safeguard their privileges against others players, including President Mubarak in 2011, but also the Muslim Brotherhood, which threatened the military’s privileged status in Egypt in 2013 (rational factor); it provided these officers with considerable material capacities that enabled them to act autonomously of Egypt’s political leaders (structural factor).

Thus, during the 2011 crisis, when members of Egypt’s Military elite realized that President Mubarak was no longer an asset, these officers—possessing their own economic resources (structural factor) but also lacking ideational links to the ruler (cultural factor)—had no compunctions about sacrificing him in order to preserve their collective interests (rational factor). Since many junior army officers and soldiers identified with the opposition, employing the military against it was impracticable (structural factor; Bou Nassif, 2015a).

We see, then, that by refraining from purging army officers and replacing the army’s commanders, as his predecessors had done, President Mubarak helped create a homogenous and cohesive military elite in Egypt that was less subject to his manipulation, ultimately enabling the military to set its own agenda in the 2011 crisis. Indeed, some scholars posit that this period witnessed the rise of a “power elite” in Egypt (Bou Nassif, 2013; see also Abul-Magd, 2017; Springborg, 2016), and others note the growing distance between the military and the ruler as well as the former’s increasing proximity to civil society (Ketchley, 2014; Lutterbeck, 2013).

This is not to say that Egypt’s Military did not use violence against its opponents (particularly the Muslim Brotherhood and its supporters), especially in the wake of the military coup in July 2013 (Bou Nassif, 2015a, pp. 267–268; Jumet, 2018, pp. 202–206). Moreover, as in the crisis in Lebanon in 1958 (discussed next), the balancing role that the Egyptian Military played in the 2011 crisis, although it facilitated a political solution, also paved the way for excessive military influence in politics. In Egypt, this culminated in a military coup in 2013 and the subsequent election of a fourth retired army officer, Abdel Fattah al-Sisi, as president (Barak, 2018). However, it should be remembered that, in the 2011 crisis, the Egyptian Military used less violence than the state’s other (i.e., internal) security agencies and that it was less brutal than some of its counterparts in the region that also experienced major political crises (e.g., Syria). Indeed, a report by Amnesty International (2016) states that, “At least 840 protestors were killed and more than 6,000 injured in 18 days” in Egypt, in 2011, but it does not hold the military accountable for these casualties but, rather, blames “riot police, police snipers and plain-clothed state security officers, as well as ‘thugs’ working for supporters of ruler Hosni Mubarak”.

Lebanon during the 1958 crisis

As will be discussed below, during the political crisis of 1975–1976 the LAF, which could not act independently of the country’s political leaders, was unable to play a balancing role and prevent escalation into an internal armed conflict. By contrast, during the 1958 crisis in Lebanon, at which point the LAF was still autonomous, the military succeeded in acting as a stabilizing force.

Since gaining independence in 1943, Lebanon has been governed according to the National Pact, an informal but binding power-sharing settlement between the leaders of its major communities: Maronites, Orthodox, Catholics, Sunnis, Shi’is, and Druze. This settlement stipulated that members of all communities would be represented in Lebanon’s political institutions according to a ratio of 6:5 between Christians and Muslims. The state’s three highest offices (president, prime minister, and speaker of parliament) were allotted to its three largest communities (Maronites, Sunnis, and Shi’is, respectively), with others also receiving their share in the political system (El-Khazen, 2000; Hanf, 1993; Hudson, 1968).

In tandem with this political settlement, in the early years of Lebanese statehood, the LAF, under the leadership of General Fouad Chehab, enjoyed autonomy vis-à-vis the state’s political leaders. Several factors explain the steady growth of the LAF’s autonomy since its establishment in 1945 (Barak, 2009; Gaub, 2010). First, members of all major communities served in the LAF command and the civilian bodies presiding over Lebanon’s security agencies (Barak, 2006, 2009). Indeed, although Maronite officials—the president, the LAF commander, and the head of military intelligence (and also the director of General Security)—wielded most of the influence over the security agencies, leaders of other communities also played a role. These included the prime minister (Sunni)—who often also served as minister of the interior—the minister of defense (often Druze), the LAF’s chief of staff (Druze after 1958), and the director of the Internal Security Forces (Sunni). Second, the LAF’s composition was multi-communal. Thus, for example, 65.5% of its officers were Christian in the period 1945–1958, with Maronites accounting for 43.8% of the officer corps (Barak, 2006, 2009). However, after the crisis of 1958 the percentages of Christian and Muslim officers changed to 55% to 45%, respectively, virtually identical to the Christian–Muslim ratio of 6:5 established by the National Pact. In that same period, the percentage of Maronite officers dropped to 34.8% (Barak, 2006, 2009). In addition, some Muslim officers were appointed to key posts in the LAF.⁷ Third, Lebanon’s security sector—chiefly the LAF—promoted a supra-communal national identity. Finally, the LAF was motivated by, and sought to preserve, intercommunal consensus in Lebanon (Barak, 2009).

The autonomy of the LAF enabled it to play a balancing role during a series of political crises that occurred in Lebanon in the 1950s, preventing escalation. Thus, for example, in 1952—during a political crisis between President Bechara El Khoury and his opponents—the LAF refused to suppress the opposition. Indeed, LAF commander General Chehab even formed a caretaker government as part of the solution to the crisis (Barak, 2009; Zisser, 2000).

However, the LAF proved its stabilizing role most evidently during the political crisis that erupted between President Camille Chamoun and his rivals in 1958 (Alin, 1994; Meo, 1965; Qubain, 1961). During this crisis, the LAF did not forcefully act against the opposition and engaged only in limited law-and-order operations (Barak, 2009). As in 1952, such behavior deprived the president of the ability to suppress his opponents, compelling him to step down and thus terminating the crisis.

Some accounts of the LAF’s behavior in the 1958 crisis focus on the personality of its chief, his social status, and the French legacy of civil–military relations (Barak, 2009). However, no less important in accounting for the LAF’s autonomy in this period are its commanding bodies, its composition, its identity, and its actions. At this time, the LAF had a clear Christian majority (over 60%), especially in its officer corps and combat units, whereas the opposition forces were mainly made up of Muslims, with some Christians joining them (Barak, 2009). Thus, had the LAF exercised violence against the opposition, the Muslim population would have viewed this as the act of a Christian Army, as occurred in 1975–1976 (see below). Indeed, the head of military intelligence in Lebanon later recalled General Chehab warning President Chamoun and his men, “Do not forget that the army is composed of all Lebanese sects and groups. Any order [to attack the opposition] may result in collapse and fragmentation” (Barak, 2009, p. 55).

This warning, together with other similar statements made by the LAF’s high-ranking officers during the 1958 crisis (Barak, 2009), demonstrates not only the actual composition of the LAF in this period (structural factor) but also how its leaders skillfully employed this factor to safeguard the military’s autonomy vis-à-vis President Chamoun (rational factor). This message was not lost on the latter, who lamented, “[T]his all began ten years ago when we isolated the army to keep it out of politics. It became a state to itself. And it is now coming into constitutional power” (Barak, 2009, p. 56). Chamoun was in fact complaining about the LAF’s autonomy.

Indeed, one consequence of the 1958 crisis in Lebanon was General Chehab’s election as president and his attempts, together with the LAF’s intelligence branch, to dominate Lebanese politics in the period 1958–1970, which suggests the existence of a “security network” in Lebanon (Barak, 2018). These efforts, in turn, antagonized some Lebanese leaders and subsequently contributed to undermining the military’s autonomy prior to the 1975–1976 crisis (see below). At any rate, in 1958, the LAF’s ability to set an agenda independently of the president and his supporters, on one hand, and the opposition, on the other, enabled it to play a balancing role and prevented the crisis from escalating into an internal armed conflict.

Military Autonomy Undermined and Loss of Balancing Capacity

Lebanon during the 1975 crisis

The Lebanese Civil War (1975–1990) is considered one of the worst internal armed conflicts in the history of the Middle East in terms of casualties, displacement, and material damage (Azar, 1984; Barakat, 1988; Hanf, 1993; Khalaf, 1987, 2002; Khalidi, 1979; Owen, 1976; Picard, 1996; Salibi, 1976). During the conflict, Lebanon’s political and security sectors were paralyzed, leading some to predict the state’s disintegration. However, following outside mediation Lebanon’s major communities reached the 1989 Taif Agreement, facilitating the end of the conflict in 1990. Since then, Lebanon has been immersed in a slow process of reconstruction. This quest has at times been disrupted by domestic and external tensions, but there has been no return to internal armed conflict.

In this section, we focus on the process that eroded the autonomy of Lebanon’s military, the LAF, in the period prior to the 1975–1976 political crisis, and how this prevented the army from playing a balancing role as the crisis unfolded. As we suggest, this outcome differed markedly from that of the 1958 crisis, discussed above, during which the LAF was able to set its own agenda and assume a stabilizing role.

As noted earlier, since 1945 the autonomy of the LAF increased steadily, enabling it to play a balancing role during political crises, most notably in 1958. By 1975–1976, however, the LAF’s autonomy had been significantly eroded, not least due to various steps implemented by Lebanon’s political leaders in the period 1970–1975: Maronite President Suleiman Frangieh appointed security officials who were loyal to him and other Maronite leaders, such as ex-President Camille Chamoun, but not to other Lebanese politicians, especially those from the opposition (e.g., Druze leader Kamal Junblatt). In addition, although the ratio of Muslims to Christian officers had improved somewhat by 1975, the communal lopsidedness of the LAF no longer prevented political leaders from deploying it—as occurred in the 1958 crisis (see above). Rather it encouraged these leaders, especially President Frangieh and his supporters, to employ the LAF as an instrument of intercommunal control (Lustick, 1979). Third, whereas in the early years of independence the LAF enjoyed broad public support—not least because it was perceived as a meeting place for members of all communities rather than an institution dominated by one group—by this stage the LAF’s identity was more skewed toward Christians, particularly Maronites. Last but not least, the LAF’s actions increasingly became politically contested. First, between 1958 and 1970 its intelligence branch attempted to dominate Lebanese politics, abusing its autonomous position. Second, it failed to crush the Palestinian armed factions, which from the late 1960s acted independently in Lebanon and forged alliances with Muslim-dominated radical groups. Simultaneously, it was also unsuccessful in repelling Israel’s Military raids into Lebanon. Consequently, many Christians began to view the LAF as ineffective, whereas among Muslims it was commonly regarded as a tool of Christian hegemony (Barak, 2009; Hanf, 1993; Salibi, 1976).

Thus, during the political crisis that beset Lebanon in 1975–1976, the LAF, with its curtailed autonomy, could not play a balancing role as it had done in the 1958 crisis. Rather, the government deployed it against the Muslim-dominated opposition. The army consequently suffered from paralysis and partially disintegrated along communal lines, exacerbating the crisis and contributing to the conflict that followed (Barak, 2009). During the ensuing conflict, some Lebanese officials became aware of the LAF’s predicament and sought to restore its ability to act autonomously with a variety of changes: making it more representative of Lebanon’s divided society, promoting a supra-communal identity, and deploying it in various parts of the country, both to restore order and win popular support. Although these reforms faced obstacles, they were of great importance in preventing the LAF and the state from disintegrating during the conflict and in facilitating their reemergence (Aoun, 1988; Barak, 2009, 2016; Taqi al-Din, 1998).

Syria during the 2011 crisis

Like Lebanon, Syria is a divided society. However, there are also clear differences between the two states: While in Lebanon no community possesses an absolute majority, Sunnis account for the bulk of Syria’s population, alongside minority communities (primarily Alawites, Christians, Druze, and Kurds). Furthermore, patterns of intercommunal relations in the two states vary considerably. In Lebanon, power-sharing broke down in 1975–1990 but was later restored. By contrast, Syria’s Alawite minority (about 12% of the population) gradually but steadily institutionalized its dominance of the political system.

Studies discuss extensively intercommunal relations in Syria’s political institutions and, to a lesser extent, its security sector—especially the Syrian Armed Forces (SAF)⁸—under President Hafez al-Assad (1971–2000; Batatu, 1999; Hinnebusch, 1990, 2002; Ma’oz, 1988; Seale, 1989; Van Dam, 1997; Zisser, 2001) and his son, President Bashar al-Assad (2000–present; Lawson, 2009; Lesch, 2005, 2013; Leverett, 2005; Perthes, 2004; Zisser, 2007). These works suggest that to fully grasp Syria’s pattern of intercommunal relations we must look beyond the facade of formal hierarchies in the political and security sectors, identifying where the actual power lies. Indeed, since the early 1970s, real power in Syria has remained firmly in the hands of the Alawite president, who also serves as supreme commander of the SAF and secretary general of the ruling Ba’ath Party. In addition, the president relies on an “inner circle,” composed of members of his community (Alawites), tribe (Kalbiyya), and family, which presides over Syria’s numerous security agencies (Hinnebusch, 2002, 2015; Hokayem, 2013; Leverett, 2005; Ma’oz, 1988; Seale, 1989; Zisser, 1995, 2001, 2007).

Unlike Lebanon, with its multiple political parties, since 1963 the Pan-Arab, secular, and socialist Ba’ath Party has ruled Syria. Initially, it moderated social divisions (ethnicity, clan, and region) but later became an instrument of the Alawite-dominated regime (Horowitz, 1985). Although a number of non-Alawites, mainly Sunnis, have occupied senior posts in Syria’s political sector (e.g., the vice president, prime minister, foreign minister, minister of defense, and speaker of parliament) and its security sector (e.g., chief of staff of the SAF; Hinnebusch, 2002, 2015; Ma’oz, 1988; Seale, 1989; Zisser, 2001, 2007), most Sunni officials have been Ba’ath party members and long-time associates of the Alawite President and, most importantly, lack any independent power (Haddad, 2011; Leverett, 2005).

Significantly, however, Syria’s pattern of intercommunal control has not been static, particularly since President Bashar al-Assad rose to power in 2000. Indeed, a close examination of the political bodies controlling Syria’s security sector and the commanding bodies of its agencies—especially the SAF—before 2011, as well as other attributes of this institution, reveals that Alawites not only presided over the SAF but also increased their hold on it. This further reduced the SAF’s autonomy, which in any case had been limited since Hafez al-Assad came to power in the early 1970s.

The reduction in the SAF’s autonomy since 2000 manifests in various ways. Firstly, its commanding bodies became less representative of Syria’s population. As was mentioned earlier, since the early 1970s, the Alawite president has served as the main official presiding over Syria’s security sector, including the SAF, with the post of minister of defense occupied by his Sunni allies. However, in 2009, for the first time since the early 1970s, an Alawite who was also a member of Assad’s tribe was appointed to this post; in 2011, after this minister fled to Turkey, he was replaced by a Christian (Ajami, 2012). Only following the latter’s assassination in 2012 was the post again filled by a Sunni. The SAF’s chief of staff, a post occupied by Sunnis in the periods 1974–1998 and 2003–2004, was also taken over by Alawites in the years 2004–2009 and again since 2012, with a Christian occupying it in the period 2009–2011 and a Sunni serving in it only briefly in 2011–2012. Thus, in the period prior to the 2011 crisis in Syria, the “outer circle”—composed mainly of Sunnis—eroded, while the “inner circle”—comprising mostly Alawites and some members of other loyal communities—expanded.⁹

Secondly, the mounting Alawite domination of Syria prior to 2011 is evident in the composition of the country’s security agencies, especially the SAF. Hanna Batatu (1999) documents the gradual increase of the Alawites’ hold on the SAF. Whereas in 1973, Alawites commanded only two out of its five divisions, by 1986, they commanded six of its nine divisions, with the number rising to seven in 1992 (Batatu, 1999).¹⁰ This process was augmented in the late 1990s: As part of the efforts to facilitate the transfer of presidential power, the security sector, including the SAF, was purged of senior officials, among them Sunnis and even Alawites (Hinnebusch, 2011; Leverett, 2005; Zisser, 2001, 2007), eroding the military’s autonomy.

Later, during the first decade of Bashar al-Assad’s rule (2000–2011), the regime and the Alawites maintained, and even somewhat strengthened, their hold on the security sector, including the SAF. Although exact figures on Syria’s security agencies, including the SAF, are lacking, the data that we have collected from open sources regarding several hundred high-ranking officers (lieutenant colonel and above) who served in the SAF since 2000 suggest that Alawites accounted for about 65% of such personnel, while around 35% were non-Alawites, mostly Sunnis (in other agencies, these figures were approximately 85% and 15%, respectively). In general, Alawites today account for about 75% of personnel in the highest ranks of the Syrian security sector. In elite units of the SAF, including Special Forces divisions and two units designated to protect the regime from domestic threats—the Republican Guard and the 4th Armored Division (commanded by Maher al-Assad, the President’s younger brother)—around 83% of personnel are Alawites; the latter two units are almost exclusively Alawite.¹¹

The same applies to the Syrian Air Force, which is one of the pillars of the regime and played a major role in the conflict. In 2015, the Syrian opposition published biographical information on some 500 officers who served in this branch during the conflict, showing that Alawites accounted for 63.9%, other minorities stood at 10.1%, and Sunnis were only one fourth of this number. Moreover, 37 officers (7.5%) defected and, of these, 32 (86.5%) were Sunnis (Shehab Eddin, 2015). The communal lopsidedness of the SAF was further enhanced by the continued appointment of Alawites, including the president’s relatives, to key posts in its combat units, armored corps, and intelligence as well as the exclusion of other officers, especially Sunnis. Indeed, on the eve of the 2011 crisis, Alawites commanded 10 of the SAF’s 12 divisions, in addition to the Republican Guard, the Air Force, and the Navy. Furthermore, Alawites maintained a firm grip on other security agencies (Bou Nassif, 2015b).¹² With respect to Sunni exclusion, in interviews conducted with two dozen Syrian officers who defected after 2011, all Sunnis, Bou Nassif discovered that they suffered from more discrimination in the SAF under Bashar al-Assad than under his father (Bou Nassif, 2015b). Once again, the pattern previously alluded to is evident: Alawites dominate elite units, and the Syrian Military is not socially representative and, consequently, is unable to operate autonomously.

With regard to the identity of the SAF and its ability to act independently of the state’s political leaders, scholars note President Hafez al-Assad’s efforts to foster both an overarching Syrian national identity and identification with the state, the regime, and the SAF among many Syrian citizens, including non-Alawites (Wedeen, 1999). Yet he concurrently forbade direct criticism of the regime, including any mention of its sectarian character (Weiss, 2015).¹³ While this policy was certainly not sufficient to create a fully autonomous military in Syria, it enhanced the SAF’s public standing, at least in the eyes of some Syrians.

Under Hafez al-Assad, the SAF forcefully suppressed the (largely Sunni) armed resistance to the Ba’ath regime in 1982 (see above). In addition, Syrian intelligence agencies were blamed for their role in assassinating Lebanese leaders, including Kamal Junblatt (Druze), who criticized the Syrian regime, and President-elect Bashir Gemayel (Maronite), who, together with Israel, threatened Syria’s dominant position in Lebanon in 1982 (Ma’oz, 1988; Seale, 1989; Van Dam, 1997). However, at least some of the SAF’s activities before 2000 can be explained as efforts to safeguard domestic stability and neutralize external threats (Lesch, 2005, 2013).

Yet when Bashar al-Assad came to power in 2000, he reinforced intercommunal control in Syria, decreased the level of social representation in the SAF, and brought the military even closer to the state’s political leadership.¹⁴ Indeed, in the years 2010–2011, Assad Jr. gradually tightened his—and his community’s—grip on the state’s political and security sectors, including the SAF, thus further reducing the latter’s ability to set its own agenda.

The Syrian conflict began in March 2011 (see Ajami, 2012; Hokayem, 2013; Lawson, 2013; Lesch, 2013; Yassin-Kassab & Al-Shami, 2016), when demonstrators in Daraa protested at the security agencies’ arrest and torture of several local youths accused of spraying graffiti against the regime (Lesch, 2013). These protests were underpinned by the deteriorating socioeconomic situation in Syria and unfulfilled hopes for reform. Yet, the president and his associates perceived even these limited protests as a daunting challenge, leading them to a violent response that relied on the Shabiha, mainly Alawite, militias (Hokayem, 2013; Lesch, 2013; Yassin-Kassab & Al-Shami, 2016). When these measures backfired, and the protests continued to mount, the regime decided to deploy the SAF, further reinforcing the image of the military as a tool of the regime. Thus, the SAF became a “sectarian militia” in the service of the ruler and the dominant Alawite community.

Several steps subsequently adopted by the Assad regime contributed to the image of the political crisis as an intercommunal struggle and, relatedly, to the perception of the SAF as an instrument of the ruler rather than an actor capable of setting and acting upon its own agenda. First, the regime securitized the protests, presenting them as part of an external plot against Syria (see President Bashar al-Assad’s speeches in March 2011 in Slackman, 2011; and, following his reelection, in July 2014, Al-Assad, 2014; see also Hokayem, 2013; Lesch, 2013). Second, it sectarianized the crisis by exploiting “deep-seated fears about loss of standing and retribution” and propagating a “sense of siege” and “total war” among Alawites (Hokayem, 2013, p. 3), likewise actively involving soldiers from other minorities (Christians and Druze) in the fighting against the (mostly Sunni) opposition (see Ajami, 2012; Hinnebusch, 2015; Lesch, 2013; Syrian Arab Republic Department of General Intelligence’s Detailed Plan for the Bracing, 2011). Thus, the conflict in Syria quickly became a struggle between an overwhelmingly Alawite regime and its subordinate military, on one hand, and Sunni-dominated militias composed of security personnel who had defected from the security agencies, including the SAF, on the other (Lesch, 2013). This schism was reflected in the public discourse; while opposition factions referred to the SAF as Assad’s Army, the regime “framed the war as a struggle against external interference and terrorism” (Khaddour, 2016, p. 6). In this manner, the crisis escalated into a lengthy armed conflict (Lawson, 2013; Lesch, 2013; Luttwak, 2013).

Discussion and Conclusion

This article has shown that autonomous militaries can play a balancing role during major internal political crises. However, when the regime curtails the military’s ability to set its own agenda in the period prior to the crisis, the military is unable to act independently and cannot maintain the political balance between the regime and its opponents, thereby increasing the risk of an escalation into armed conflict.

The first two cases that we examined (Egypt in 2011 and Lebanon in 1958) support the first hypothesis that we presented, namely, that the military’s autonomy is the key factor in determining whether it can assume a balancing role in instances of political crisis. In both cases, the military’s autonomy was not undermined before the crisis broke out, thus enabling it to play a balancing role as the events unfolded.

The latter two cases (Lebanon in 1975 and Syria in 2011) substantiate our second expectation and the overall argument: Militaries may lose their balancing capabilities if their autonomy is undermined by the regime in the period preceding the crisis. We wish to emphasize that in the cases discussed, this process occurred under different types of regimes and in states that exhibit various patterns of intercommunal relations: In both the relatively free Lebanese political system, which was marked by intercommunal power-sharing (Lijphart, 1977, 2004), and Syria’s authoritarian regime, characterized by intercommunal control (Lustick, 1979). This variation strengthens our argument concerning the critical role of the military’s autonomy during major political crises.

The discussion of Syria and Lebanon—both divided societies—allows us to go beyond our initial theoretical assertions and infer certain specific factors that can help maintain or undermine the military’s autonomy in major political crises. In divided societies, the military is more likely to maintain its autonomy when all major communities are represented in its commanding bodies and when its composition reflects broader social divisions (structural factor), when its identity mirrors that of the various communities (cultural factor), and when its actions seek to preserve intercommunal consensus (rational factor). Indeed, when the above structural, cultural, and rational factors are present, political leaders will find it difficult to deploy the military against their opponents during a major political crisis. However, in the absence of these factors, some civilians are liable to identify the military with one specific community, and the ruler’s deployment of the military may thus cause the situation to deteriorate into internal armed conflict. These conclusions are relevant for other divided societies including most Middle Eastern states.

Egypt, which is a more homogenous society, also offers important insights concerning possible factors that can help preserve or impair the military’s autonomy in major political crises. Before 2011, President Hosni Mubarak tried to exert control over the Egyptian Military by promoting the material interests of its highest echelons. However, this strategy backfired: High-ranking Egyptian officers acquired material assets that enabled them to act independently of the ruler (structural factor), were keen on preserving their and the military’s privileged status in the state (rational factor), and were hesitant to use massive force against their fellow countrymen so as to uphold their national reputation (cultural factor) and prevent junior officers and soldiers, who identified with the demonstrators in Tahrir Square, from defecting (structural factor). The combination of these structural, cultural, and rational factors can explain why the Egyptian Military was able to set its own agenda during the 2011 crisis and play a balancing role, ultimately sealing President Mubarak’s fate and preventing a deterioration to armed conflict.

We see, then, that the military’s autonomy is underpinned by rational, structural, and cultural factors and various combinations thereof, depending on the extent to which society is divided or homogenous. We have also seen that “coup-proofing” actions do not necessarily curtail the military’s autonomy (though sometimes they are able to do so) and that they can have dire consequences for the state’s political leaders that employ them. More research on the role of the military in major political crises in the Middle East and beyond is needed to better elucidate these issues and their interlinkages.

Footnotes

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The authors disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: Research for this article was supported by grants from the Israel Science Foundation (grant no. 1561/14) and the Levi Eshkol Institute, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

ORCID iD

Oren Barak

Notes

References

Abul-Magd

(2017). Militarizing the nation: The army, business, and revolution in Egypt. New York, NY: Columbia University Press.

Ajami

(1992). The Arab predicament: Arab political thought and practice since 1967. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.

Ajami

(2012). The Syrian rebellion. Stanford, CA: Hoover Institution Press.

Al-Assad

(2014, July 16). Inaugural speech of President al-Assad. Retrieved from http://www.voltairenet.org/article184784.html

Albrecht

(2015). Does coup-proofing work? Political–military relations in authoritarian regimes amid the Arab uprisings. Mediterranean Politics, 20, 36–54.

Albrecht

Croissant

Lawson

(Eds.). (2016). Armies and insurgencies in the Arab Spring. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.

Alin

(1994). The United States and the 1958 Lebanon crisis. Lanham, MD: University Press of America.

Amnesty International. (2016). The “Arab spring”: Five years on. Retrieved April 18, 2019, from https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/campaigns/2016/01/arab-spring-five-years-on

Aoun

(1988). The army remains the solution. Beirut: n.p. [Arabic].

10.

Azar

(Ed.). (1984). The emergence of a new Lebanon: Fantasy or reality? New York, NY: Praeger.

11.

Barak

(2006). Towards a representative military? The transformation of the Lebanese officer corps since 1945. Middle East Journal, 60, 75–93.

12.

Barak

(2009). The Lebanese army: A national institution in a divided society. Albany: State University of New York Press.

13.

Barak

(2016). The military balancing act: Cohesion vs. effectiveness in deeply divided societies. In Bellin

Lane

(Eds.), Building rule of law in the Arab world: Tunisia, Egypt, and beyond (pp. 131–149). Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner.

14.

Barak

(2018). Security networks, deep states, and the democratic deficit in the Middle East. Middle East Journal, 72, 447–465.

15.

Barak

David

(2010). The Arab security sector: A new research agenda for a neglected topic. Armed Forces & Society, 36, 804–824.

16.

Barakat

(Ed.). (1988). Toward a viable Lebanon. London, England: Croom Helm.

17.

Barany

(2011). Comparing the Arab revolts: The role of the military. Journal of Democracy, 22, 24–35.

18.

Batatu

(1999). Syria’s peasantry, the descendants of its lesser rural notables, and their politics. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

19.

Bellin

(2004). The robustness of authoritarianism in the Middle East. Comparative Politics, 36, 139–157.

20.

Bou Nassif

(2013). Wedded to Mubarak: The second careers and financial rewards of Egypt’s military elite, 1981–2011. Middle East Journal, 67, 509–530.

21.

Bou Nassif

(2015a). Generals and autocrats: How coup-proofing predetermined the military elite’s behavior in the Arab Spring. Political Science Quarterly, 130, 245–275.

22.

Bou Nassif

. (2015b). “Second-class”: The grievances of Sunni Officers in the Syrian Armed Forces. Journal of Strategic Studies, 38, 626–649.

23.

Brooks

(1998). Political–military relations and the stability of Arab regimes (Adelphi Papers, No. 324). Oxford, England: Oxford University Press for the International Institute for Strategic Studies.

24.

Brooks

(2013). Abandoned at the palace: Why the Tunisian military defected from the Ben Ali regime in January 2011. Journal of Strategic Studies, 36, 205–220.

25.

Brooks

(2017). Military defection and the Arab Spring. Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Politics. Retrieved from http://politics.oxfordre.com/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780190228637.001.0001/acrefore-9780190228637-e-26

26.

Bueno de Mesquita

Smith

(2011, December 20). Assessing Assad: The Syrian leader isn’t crazy. He’s just doing whatever it takes to survive. Foreign Policy Online. Retrieved from http://foreignpolicy.com/2011/12/20/assessing-assad

27.

Burk

(2002). Theories of democratic civil–military relations. Armed Forces & Society, 29, 7–29.

28.

Central Intelligence Agency. (1973, December 7). Syria’s rulers and their political environment. Retrieved from https://www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/docs/1973-12-07A.pdf

29.

Central Intelligence Agency. (1986, July 30). Syria: Scenarios of dramatic political change. Retrieved from https://www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP86T01017R000100770001-5.pdf

30.

Cruz

Diamint

(1998). The new military autonomy in Latin America. Journal of Democracy, 9, 115–127.

31.

El-Khazen

(2000). The breakdown of the state in Lebanon, 1967–1976. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

32.

Feaver

(2009). Armed servants: Agency, oversight, and civil-military relations. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

33.

Gaub

(2010). Military integration after civil wars: Multiethnic armies, identity and post-conflict reconstruction. New York, NY: Routledge.

34.

Gaub

(2013). The Libyan armed forces between coup-proofing and repression. Journal of Strategic Studies, 36, 221–244.

35.

Haddad

(2011). Business networks in Syria: The political economy of authoritarian resilience. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press.

36.

Hanf

(1993). Coexistence in wartime Lebanon: Decline of a state and rise of a nation. London, England: I.B. Tauris.

37.

Hinnebusch

(1990). Authoritarian power and state formation in Ba’thist Syria: Army, party, and peasant. San Francisco, CA: Westview.

38.

Hinnebusch

(2002). Syria: Revolution from above. London, England: Routledge.

39.

Hinnebusch

(2011). The Ba’th Party in Post-Ba’thist Syria: President, party and the struggle for “reform”. Middle East Critique, 20, 109–125.

40.

Hinnebusch

(2015). Syria’s Alawis and the Ba’ath Party. In Kerr

Larkin

(Eds.), The Alawis of Syria: War, faith and politics in the Levant (pp. 107–124). London, England: Hurst.

41.

Hokayem

(2013). Syria’s uprising and the fracturing of the Levant. Abingdon, England: Routledge.

42.

Holliday

(2013). The Syrian army: Doctrinal order of battle. Washington, DC: Institute for the Study of War.

43.

Horowitz

(1985). Ethnic groups in conflict. Berkeley: University of California Press.

44.

Hudson

(1968). The precarious republic: Political modernization in Lebanon. New York, NY: Random House.

45.

Huntington

(1957). The soldier and the state: The theory and politics of civil-military relations. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

46.

Janowitz

(1960). The professional soldier: A social and political portrait. Glencoe, IL: Free Press.

47.

Jumet

K. D.

(2018). Contesting the repressive state: Why ordinary Egyptians protested during the Arab spring. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

48.

Kamrava

(2000). Military professionalization and civil–military relations in the Middle East. Political Science Quarterly, 115, 67–92.

49.

Kerr

(1971). The Arab Cold War: Gamal ‘Abd al-Nasir and his rivals, 1958–1970 (3rd ed). London, England: Oxford University Press.

50.

Ketchley

(2014). “The army and the people are one hand!” Fraternization and the 25th January Egyptian revolution. Comparative Studies in Society and History, 56, 155–186.

51.

Khaddour

(2016, March 14). Strength in weakness: The Syrian Army’s accidental resilience. Retrieved from http://carnegie-mec.org/2016/03/14/strength-in-weakness-syrian-army-s-accidental-resilience-pub-62968

52.

Khalaf

(1987). Lebanon’s predicament. New York, NY: Columbia University Press.

53.

Khalaf

(2002). Civil and uncivil violence in Lebanon. New York, NY: Columbia University Press.

54.

Khalidi

(1979). Conflict and violence in Lebanon: Confrontation in the Middle East. Cambridge, MA: Center for International Affairs, Harvard University.

55.

Landis

Pace

(2007). The Syrian opposition. The Washington Quarterly, 30, 45–68.

56.

Lawson

(Ed.). (2009). Demystifying Syria. London, England: Saqi.

57.

Lawson

(2013). Global security watch: Syria. Santa Barbara, CA: Praeger.

58.

Lesch

(2005). The new lion of Damascus: Bashar al-Asad and modern Syria. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

59.

Lesch

(2013). Syria: The fall of the house of Assad. London, England: Yale University Press.

60.

Leverett

(2005). Inheriting Syria: Bashar’s trial by fire. Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press.

61.

Lichbach

M. I.

(1997). Social theory and comparative politics. In Lichbach

M. I.

Zuckerman

A. S.

(Eds.), Comparative politics: Rationality, culture, and structure (pp. 239–276). Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.

62.

Lijphart

(1977). Democracy in plural societies. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

63.

Lijphart

(2004). Constitutional design for divided societies. Journal of Democracy, 15, 96–109.

64.

Lustick

(1979). Stability in deeply divided societies: Consociationalism versus control. World Politics, 31, 325–344.

65.

Lutterbeck

(2013). Arab uprisings, armed forces, and civil–military relations. Armed Forces & Society, 39, 28–52.

66.

Luttwak

. (2013, August 24–25). Keep Syria in a stalemate. International Herald Tribune.

67.

Ma’oz

(1988). Asad: The Sphinx of Damascus. A political biography. New York, NY: Weidenfeld & Nicolson.

68.

Makara

(2013). Coup-proofing, military defection, and the Arab Spring. Democracy and Security, 9, 334–359.

69.

Meo

(1965). Lebanon, improbable nation: A study in political development. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

70.

Offe

(1976). Crisis or crisis management: Elements of a political crisis theory. International Journal of Politics, 6, 29–67.

71.

Owen

(Ed.). (1976). Essays on the crisis in Lebanon. London, England: Ithaca Press.

72.

Owen

(2000). State, power, and politics in the making of the modern Middle East (2nd ed.). London, England: Routledge.

73.

Perthes

(2004). Syria under Bashar al-Asad: Modernisation and the limits of change. London, England: Routledge.

74.

Picard

(1996). Lebanon, a shattered country: Myths and realities of the wars in Lebanon. New York, NY: Holmes and Meier.

75.

Pion-Berlin

(1992). Military autonomy and emerging democracies in South America. Comparative Politics, 25, 83–102.

76.

Powell

(2017). Leader survival strategies and the onset of civil conflict: A coup-proofing paradox. Armed Forces & Society. Retrieved from https://journals-sagepub-com.web.bisu.edu.cn/doi/10.1177/0095327X17728493

77.

Qubain

(1961). Crisis in Lebanon. Washington, DC: The Middle East Institute.

78.

Quinlivan

(1999). Coup-proofing: Its practice and consequences in the Middle East. International Security, 24, 131–165.

79.

Salibi

(1976). Crossroads to civil war. New York, NY: Caravan.

80.

Seale

(1989). Asad of Syria: The struggle for the Middle East. Berkeley: University of California Press.

81.

Shehab Eddin

(2015, May 15). Members of the air force who bombed and killed the defenseless Syrian people and took part in these deeds. Retrieved from http://www.zamanalwsl.net/uploads/zamanalwsl88777747474747747747747.pdf

82.

Slackman

. (2011, March 30). Syrian leader blames “conspiracy” for turmoil. New York Times, A10.

83.

Springborg

(2016). Democracy vs. rule of law: The case of the Egyptian Military. In Bellin

Lane

(Eds.), Building rule of law in the Arab World: Tunisia, Egypt and beyond (pp. 89–107). Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner.

84.

Syrian Arab Republic, Department of General Intelligence. (2011). Detailed plan for the bracing. Retrieved from http://msnbcmedia.msn.com/i/msnbc/sections/news/Syria_document.pdf

85.

Taqi al-Din

. (1998). An army revived, 1988–1994. Beirut: n.p. [Arabic].

86.

Van Dam

(1997). The struggle for power in Syria: Politics and society under the Ba’th party. London, England: I.B. Tauris.

87.

Wedeen

(1999). Ambiguities of domination: Politics, rhetoric, and symbols in contemporary Syria. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

88.

Weiss

(2015). What lies beneath: Political criticism in recent Syrian fiction. In Salamandra

Stenberg

(Eds.), Syria from reform to revolt (pp. 16–35). Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press.

89.

Yassin-Kassab

Al-Shami

(2016). Burning country: Syrians in revolution and war. London, England: Pluto Press.

90.

Zisser

(1995). The succession struggle in Damascus. Middle East Quarterly, 2, 57–64.

91.

Zisser

(2000). Lebanon: The challenge of independence. London, England: I.B. Tauris.

92.

Zisser

(2001). Asad’s legacy: Syria in transition. London, England: Hurst.

93.

Zisser

(2003). A false spring in Damascus. Orient, 44, 39–62.

94.

Zisser

(2007). Commanding Syria: Bashar al-Asad and the first years in power. London, England: I.B. Tauris.