How to Bring Change to the Kingdom

It’s the weekend in Saudi Arabia. crown prince Abdullah bin Abdul Aziz al Saud has rounded up a few brothers, sons and friends for a royal game of lawn bowls. Wearing a Bedouin robe and an incongruous pair of striped Adidas running shoes, the de facto ruler of the world’s richest oil sheikdom is ready to play. He stands up to the pitch and hurls a weighty ball down the grassy turf with impressive precision. Throughout the afternoon, he is constantly up and down from his chair, despite his considerable girth and advanced age (78). In between throws and sips of tea, he coaches a Time correspondent in the finer points of the sport. “Be careful of the topography,” he warns, using his palm to illustrate the hazards. “Even a slight grade can send the ball off course.”

Critics of Saudi Arabia will be quick to wonder if Abdullah shouldn’t be paying less attention to the contours of a bowling green and more to the political lie of the land. The Sept. 11 deeds of Saudi-born terrorist Osama bin Laden and 15 fellow Saudi plane hijackers have put the secretive Kingdom’s worsening strains on public view as rarely before. Whether in response to the need to curb Islamic extremism, hold down soaring population growth, combat plummeting personal incomes or eliminate royal corruption, the world is calling on Abdullah — as are many Saudis — to get the country’s house in order. Not the least of Sept. 11’s fallout: crucial ties with the U.S. dating back six decades have neared the breaking point, with voices on both sides questioning the future of American military facilities in Saudi Arabia.

To outsiders, the pace may seem leisurely — but there’s a big rethink going on in the Kingdom, a change marked by a major charm offensive from Prince Abdullah himself. During two days of meetings with Time, which included rare visits to his private office, home and equestrian farm, the Crown Prince repeatedly stressed his alliance with the U.S., acknowledged many of Saudi Arabia’s ills and discussed his plans for reform. Last week, he even tossed out an intriguing Middle East peace initiative. “We have gone through shock and denial,” explains a Saudi official. “Now we’re asking, ‘Do we need to change?'”

Many ordinary Saudis agree that Abdullah, unlike most of their princes, realizes the correct answer to that question is yes. To the surprise of many who knew him as the stodgy, longtime commander of the 75,000-strong Saudi Arabian National Guard, he emerged well before Sept. 11 as a rare Saudi leader in advocating internal reform and a more assertive foreign policy. As Abdullah’s profile rises, no other prince matches his popularity, which is largely due to the Saudi perception of him as straight-talking and above corruption, especially compared with some of his conspicuously super-rich brothers. Sarah Al Ayed, 29, a Jidda p.r. executive, beams at the mention of Abdullah’s name. “We are all looking up to him,” she says. Make no mistake, the Crown Prince enjoys his royal perks.

He rides around in a Rolls Royce with 001 number plates or else a customized tour bus with a small living room complete with satellite TV. His ranch is surprisingly modest, but features an expensive collection of some of the world’s finest Arabian and thoroughbred horses. His main meal at 7 p.m. sharp is a sumptuous banquet of Arabic and Continental cuisine, these days including rare mushrooms known as desert truffles that grow wild after winter rains.

Saudis nonetheless regard Abdullah as a dedicated, in-touch ruler. Each day he rises around noon, greets visiting dignitaries, emissaries and ordinary citizens until his 7 p.m. lunch, naps until midnight and then puts in another day’s work at the office until dawn prayers. Though devout, if he’s a zealot about anything it’s TV news: his office has a bank of 33 television sets so he can monitor all available satellite channels at once. In contrast to more remote royals, Abdullah has become a populist prince, touring the country and even munching burgers in fast-food restaurants. Says Wyche Fowler, American ambassador to Saudi Arabia from 1996 to 2001: “His leadership is essential at this particular time in Saudi history.”

Such praise could be taken as a comment on the mess the Kingdom was in when Abdullah gradually began taking over following King Fahd’s stroke in 1995. Custom dictated that Abdullah, as heir apparent, take the helm; the King, now 80, still appears for ceremonial functions but is too frail to run the country. During Fahd’s 20-year reign, government spending as well as Saudi births soared, while oil revenues declined from $40 a barrel in 1980 to about $20 today. Fighting off Iraq’s Saddam Hussein in the Gulf War also set the Kingdom back $60 billion.

Abdullah began shaking the Kingdom out of its petroleum hangover by declaring in 1998 that the “boom is over and will not return — all of us must get used to a different lifestyle.” As an alternative to the easy oil riches, Abdullah has spearheaded the most significant attempt at economic restructuring in the Kingdom’s history, opening negotiations with American and other Western energy powers on a $100 billion foreign investment project to develop natural gas and build related electricity and desalination plants. Still, oil accounts for around 70% of the country’s revenues.

Abdullah has slashed government budgets, barring new military spending and scaling back white elephants like the Strategic Storage Program, an estimated $25 billion project designed to supply the Saudi armed forces with jet fuel in case some invader happens to occupy Saudi refineries. Earlier this month, he warned bureaucrats that they faced dismissal if they didn’t shape up, a far cry from the glory days when every graduate was assured a government desk and a paycheck, work or no work. The 30,000-strong royal family weren’t spared the belt-tightening: no more ignoring telephone and utility bills, he decreed, or treating the national carrier Saudia like a private airline.

Since Sept. 11, Abdullah has sent clear signals — albeit in the quiet, gradual Saudi way — that Saudis must get their heads out of the sand and become part of the global village. One after another, he called in groups of Saudi imams, teachers, journalists and businessmen and warned them against taking Saudi Arabia’s puritanical brand of religion, known as Wahhabism, to unacceptable extremes. Though not to Washington’s complete satisfaction, Abdullah began tightening up on potential terrorist financing, scrutinizing Islamic charities and freezing some suspect bank accounts — an explosive issue in a culture that fiercely guards privacy. At a recent Gulf Cooperation Council meeting, Abdullah told Arabs to stop blaming others and review their own faults.

In 1999, Abdullah became an overnight hit with Saudi women when he pointedly declared that the country would “open all doors” for them to play greater roles in society. Recently, the government began issuing identity cards to women for the first time.

Abdullah’s straight talk doesn’t go down well with everyone. His relations with Washington soured last year as he vented his personal anger with the Bush Administration. Because of Abdullah’s belief that Bush was ignoring the Palestinian issue, about which he feels passionate as an ardent Arab nationalist, he had turned down invitations to visit Washington, including one handwritten by Bush himself. Then, while watching a live press conference on TV one day in August, Abdullah became furious at the way the President, he felt, was putting all the blame for the spiraling violence on Yasser Arafat and none on Israel. He instructed Saudi Ambassador to Washington Prince Bandar to deliver a stark message: relations were at a crossroads, and Saudi Arabia would now look after its own interests, thank you.

Bush assuaged Abdullah’s concerns, but Sept. 11 raised tensions anew. U.S. grumbling about a lack of Saudi cooperation in the war on terrorism quickly escalated into calls in Congress for Washington to consider reducing its presence at the Prince Sultan Air Base (P-SAB in military jargon), where the U.S. has 6,000 Air Force personnel patrolling Iraqi skies. The problem was initial Saudi hesitation in allowing the Pentagon to use a new U.S.-built command-and-control center at P-SAB to conduct the drive against bin Laden’s al-Qaeda network in Afghanistan. Known as the Combined Air Operations Center, or CAOC, the vast underground facility is manned with 300 specialists and equipped with satellite receivers, computers and secret communications. It enables commanders to direct a major war with real-time feedback on progress and setbacks. The Saudis relented, and the U.S. use of CAOC for Afghanistan has been an open secret since the war began in October.

Dismissing suggestions that military cooperation may end, Abdullah told Time: “We don’t think about raising this issue at all.” The reality is more complicated: although the alliance was in the vital strategic interests of both nations for decades, its outlook is somewhat uncertain. U.S. and Saudi officials tell TIME that future use of caoc remains unclear, and that talks are on the cards to redefine the U.S. military mission in the Kingdom.

Both sides generally agree that U.S. forces are needed to deter another invasion of Kuwait or Saudi Arabia and to keep up the pressure on Iraq. That is in line with the traditional basis for the strong relationship: the Saudis provide oil and the U.S. provides security. Some U.S. military men feel the Saudis “owe us” — a reference to Operation Desert Storm saving Saudi skin back in 1991. But the Saudis are fearful that a carte blanche could entangle the Kingdom in American wars against Iraq or even Iran, making popular opposition to the U.S. military presence a hot political issue — which, despite bin Laden’s rhetoric, it has failed to become. “Why do we owe you?” asks a Saudi official. “We are a partner who needs to be consulted. We can’t have the U.S. military thinking that any time they go to war, Saudi Arabia will be the command-and-control center. Somebody has to put a brake on this.”

Abdullah is worried about U.S. unilateralism. “America cannot be the sole policeman of the world,” he says. The Palestinian problem still rankles, too. In an oblique warning to Washington, he says that Arafat’s removal “will shake the Arab and Muslim world and destroy the credibility of anybody who was involved in this move.” But Abdullah’s peace initiative, which Arab diplomats say could be considered at next month’s Arab Summit in Beirut, is a sign that he’s ready to play a constructive role. In a “statement of vision” being pushed by Saudi diplomats as a “signal to the Israeli people,” Abdullah suggests that Arab states collectively agree to a full peace with Israel in exchange for full Israeli withdrawal from the West Bank, Gaza Strip and other occupied Arab territories. “If Saudi Arabia is willing to reach out to Israel to talk about peace and normalization of relations, then that is significant and positive step,” says U.S. State Department spokesman Richard Boucher.

If Abdullah’s relations with the U.S. are complicated, that’s nothing compared to his domestic conundrum. The Kingdom’s Islamic establishment had free rein during Fahd’s years — an attempt to curry favor after zealots seized the Grand Mosque in Mecca in 1979 and hard-liners criticized the hosting of U.S. troops for the Gulf War. As a result, the Islamic establishment has grown in size and strength to the point that Saudi leaders are terrified of confronting it head on. The religious sheiks give the al Saud Dynasty a vital cloak of protection against political opponents. So does its responsibility for hosting the annual Hajj pilgramage to Mecca, which got underway last week with some 2.5 million Muslims from around the world.

The Crown Prince is probably correct when he says that bin Laden’s al-Qaeda terrorist network poses no immediate threat to Saudi stability. But the long-term danger is creating a bin Laden Generation: legions of kids schooled in puritanical Islam, lacking jobs and harboring hatred for the U.S. and Israel — and for their own rulers too. “There is a clash between tradition and modernity,” says Saudi researcher Mai Yamani. “Vast wealth has been spent on education, but it is a population that cannot function in this demanding global economy.”

Despite his relatively progressive instincts, it remains to be seen whether Abdullah will succeed in pushing his reform agenda past Islamic opposition. His efforts to bring the Kingdom into the World Trade Organization, for example, could help create jobs — unemployment is 15%. But the obstacles to membership include the country’s slow progress in enacting commercial and insurance laws over the objections of Islamic traditionalists, who regard them as an affront to Shari’a, the rules of life handed down by God.

Abdullah faces similar difficulties when it comes to issues like sex and education. The ban on women driving certainly limits Saudi economic potential. But what had been a long-standing cultural taboo became a seemingly irreversible religious edict in 1990 after a group of 40 women protested against the prohibition by driving cars in a convoy through downtown Riyadh. Abdullah has green-lighted a very limited population control campaign to address what may be the gravest long-term threat to stability, a birthrate unofficially put at 4.2%, one of the world’s highest. (The population of Saudi nationals is 17.4 million.) Yet he fears the wrath of religious leaders, who claim that Islamic teaching calls for large families.

The Crown Prince is also overseeing a review of the Saudi school curriculum, which emphasizes Islam even in science and history classes, and churns out thousands of unemployed religious scholars every year. Still, education officials are making no apologies for textbooks that preach suspicion of non-Muslims, even to the extent of discouraging Saudis from congratulating Christians or Jews on their religious holidays. Abdullah rejects charges that the education system is breeding future bin Ladens, but many Saudis who can afford it prefer to send young children abroad for schooling. “I hate this fanatical crap my kids have to put up with,” says Badr, 42, a Riyadh businessman. “I want to teach my kids about Islam. I don’t want the state to do it.”

Hobbling Abdullah’s efforts is the fact that, as Crown Prince, he lacks the full authority of a king to act. Fears of a power struggle in the royal family have proved unfounded, with Abdullah serving as day-to-day ruler with the consensus of other powerful princes. Insiders say that tensions on issues like the pace of reform and cleaning up corruption simmer between Abdullah and other ranking princes, notably influential Defense Minister Prince Sultan, the next in line to the throne after Abdullah. “The Crown Prince is in an unenviable position,” says a prominent Jidda businessman close to royal circles. “He is in power, but he doesn’t have all the power.”

Royal rifts cast an unflattering light on the Kingdom’s failure, in its 70 years of stability and prosperity, to evolve institutions capable of running a modern society. Each week Abdullah — unusually for a senior prince — spends an hour or two holding a Majlis, a traditional Bedouin form of consultation. Hundreds of grizzled tribesmen compete to press petitions into Abdullah’s hand, requesting help in a land dispute, a medical emergency or a blood feud. “Look at how they shout at him,” remarked Abdullah’s son Prince Mithab during a recent Majlis. “Where else do you see people talking to heads of government like this?”

True, but few Saudis would argue that such proceedings are the way to handle the complex problems of a country in the 21st century. Prince Talal, a senior member of the al Saud clan and a strong Abdullah ally, is outspoken in calling for greater change, starting with putting religion in its proper place in society. “Freedom, democracy, women’s rights, human rights — these are all valid and we have to address them as soon as possible,” says Talal. “A dialogue between the rulers and the ruled is what we are calling for.” But, as Talal acknowledges, such a dialogue is not easy to bring about without bolder leadership. “In all honesty, I regret that I do not know how [this will happen],” he shrugs.

The Crown Prince is not so uncertain — not in public, anyway. It is just after evening prayers when Abdullah sits back in an easy chair for a three-hour discussion of the challenges the Kingdom faces. As he chain-smokes his way through a pack of Vantage cigarettes, he makes it clear that the Islamic establishment’s political influence on the House of Saud is never far from his mind. He points out with approval that Saudi Arabia’s religious leaders have begun to tone down their rhetoric, which is often strewn with anti-American and anti-Semitic rants. There is no sign that he plans democracy any time soon, beyond the Kingdom’s nine-year-old, 120-member appointed national assembly. His bottom line is that change will come, but at a Saudi pace. “It is more rational to change gradually,” he explains. “There is less disruption to the social balance. We are blessed that we can afford gradual and continuous change.”

A world increasingly concerned about Saudi Arabia’s future can do little more than hope that Abdullah is right. If it turns out that Saudis must adapt more rapidly, however, they will discover whether their future monarch is equipped to lead the way. That will give Abdullah the chance to put those sneakers to a bigger test.