Saudi Arabia’s crown prince, Prince Mohammad bin Salman (MBS, for short), has been cleaning house. In the last month, he has arrested 11 princes, four ministers, and dozens of ex-ministers, all of whom are being held in five star hotels across Riyadh. He has also detained more than 200 others for questioning. Scores of commentators and media personalities have praised MBS’s anticorruption purge (see here and here), while others have condemned it (see here and here), which goes to show just how difficult it is to understand what the recent anticorruption purge means in the context of a country like Saudi Arabia. On the one hand, in Saudi Arabia, any measure to address corruption seems to be cause for optimism. Taken against the backdrop of the many social reforms advanced by MBS, ranging from permitting women to drive, diversifying the economy, and moderating the religious establishment’s brand of Islam, the anticorruption measures appear to be part of a genuine effort to reform Saudi Arabian society. Yet this optimistic assessment naively conflates a progressive social agenda that taps into our hopes for Saudi Arabia’s future (and the Middle East’s writ large) with what Saudi Arabia’s anticorruption purge really is: an attempt to consolidate MBS’s power and reassure foreign investors. Continue reading
The biggest anticorruption news last week was almost certainly the announcement by Malaysia’s new Attorney General clearing Prime Minister Najib Razak of any wrongdoing in connection to the approximately $781 million that mysteriously appeared in his personal bank account. Early reports suggested that the money might have been embezzled from a state investment fund called 1MDB – and the controversy over this matter caused substantial political upheaval (and ended up being a major focus of last year’s International Anti-Corruption Conference, which was held in Malaysia at the height of the scandal). But last week, Attorney General Mohamed Apandi Ali, following up on an earlier statement by the Malaysian Anti-Corruption Commission (MACC), announced that the money was not in fact from 1MDB, but was instead a “political donation” from the Saudi royal family. Attorney General Apandi further stated that the money was given “without any consideration,” that Prime Minister Najib had not done anything unlawful, and that he’d returned $620 million of unused money to the Saudi royal family.
Is this true? Is it really the case that Prime Minister Najib did nothing wrong (or at least nothing illegal)? Of course, I have no idea (though Swiss investigators announced earlier this week that there is indeed evidence of massive misappropriation from 1MDB). I’m not privy to any of the evidence that the MACC and the AG investigated, and I’m at best a casual, intermittent outside observer of Malaysian politics. And it would be nice to live in a world in which, when the most senior justice official in a country, announces that allegations of corruption are unfounded, I could simply believe those assertions. After all, not all allegations of corruption are true. Yet in this case, my reaction to the AG’s announcement (even before I read the news about the ongoing Swiss investigations) was cynical disbelief. I may not ever know what actually happened in this case, but what I do know is that pretty much everything that’s happened since news of the scandal broke has shattered any faith that I may once have had that Malaysian institutions undertook a genuine, impartial, investigation of this matter. Indeed, the Malaysian government’s handling of this matter is a textbook example of how a system can damage its credibility, perhaps irreparably.
Just to recap some of the highlights: Continue reading