King Hussein’s legacy

EPA

IT IS hard to imagine Jordan without King Hussein—or so runs the old saw. He has dominated the country for 46 years, first as authoritarian ruler, more recently as a hands-on constitutional monarch. Nine out of ten of his subjects were born during his reign. He is the one symbol that all Jordanians, rich and poor, secular and religious, Palestinian refugees and indigenous citizens, have in common.

Yet Jordan will lose its king, and probably sooner rather than later. King Hussein himself implied as much by coming home for a few days to attend to the succession, before rushing back to America this week for more medical treatment (see article). Only 63, he could now be facing a fourth bout of cancer, and the choice of an heir is clearly on his mind. His brother, Hassan, had served loyally as crown prince since 1964, when the king's oldest son, Abdullah, was still a baby. But King Hussein had long made it clear that he would like the crown eventually to pass to one of his children. On January 25th, in unnecessarily humiliating fashion, the king demoted Hassan and elevated Abdullah as heir by royal decree.

Therein lies the problem: as with every detail of his reign, King Hussein managed the change personally. Although Jordan is theoretically a constitutional monarchy, neither the Jordanian people, nor their representatives in parliament, had any say over the selection of their future king. The constitution does state that the king's eldest son will succeed him. But King Hussein had had it altered in favour of Hassan before, and many thought he might fix it again to install one of his younger sons. At no point, apparently, did King Hussein consult anyone. As always, he knew best.

The merits of dispensability

To be fair, King Hussein often does know best. His stewardship has seen Jordan develop from an artificial, divided and fragile polity into a reasonably stable, united and well-governed country. Compared with the despots of neighbouring Arab countries, King Hussein is a model of benign and competent rule. Abdullah, too, shows every sign of benevolence and ability, albeit in his rather sheltered career in the army. But Jordan's luck cannot last forever. Good rulers, history shows, do not grow on family trees. Instead of agonising over which of Jordan's many princes should succeed him, King Hussein should be making sure that the country's institutions are strong enough to make the choice irrelevant.

In fact, the king has concentrated power in his own hands. Although he introduced some democracy in 1989 after decades of martial law, he has taken care to rein in debate and preserve his ultimate authority. Thanks to a weighted electoral law, parliament is dominated by tribal elders fiercely loyal to the king. The main opposition party boycotted the last elections in protest, and so has been excluded from political debate. The press, too, has been brought to heel by a law that forbids, in effect, any criticism of the king or his strategy of alliance with America and peace with Israel. Before the king's illness, Jordan's unions and professional associations, which are among the few remaining bastions of independent political power, had also been under attack. And one reason for the humbling of poor Prince Hassan was that, while acting as regent, he had tried to make some military appointments without consulting the controller-in-chief on his sickbed.

Perhaps King Hussein believes that by bequeathing a blend of strong royal rule and limited democracy he will increase his dynasty's chances of survival. But he himself has had trouble imposing this system in the face of public protest, and the chances that any successor would handle dissent as adroitly are slim. The best hope for Jordan's monarchy, and the best future for its people, lies in the king gradually handing over most of his powers to parliament. King Hussein should spend whatever remains of his reign making himself dispensable. Otherwise, the old axiom notwithstanding, it is not so hard to imagine what will become of his heirs.