The peace of Kuwait

National Review, Oct 21, 1991 by Ian Alexander

THE PEACE of God, which passeth all understanding . . ." Those words, uttered by the Italian priest at the close of Easter Mass in Kuwait's small cathedral on March 31, sounded poignantly appropriate. Today, they seem far distant, after six months of halting, often heartless attempts to rebuild after Saddam Hussein's oppression.

It had been a particularly harrowing ordeal for those who had stayed through the Iraqi occupation--including many of the four hundred parishioners who were of perhaps 15 nationalities. Palestinian managers had tried to protect the business establishments of their Kuwait owners, most of whom were outside the country. Indian and Filipino laborers and servants had striven to maintain their employers' factories and homes intact.

The faithful had regularly gathered at the church, as had their Moslem counterparts at mosques throughout the city, to assure one another that they were still alive, as much as to pray. On that Easter day, there was fresh hope that Kuwait would become once again a prosperous and peaceful country. Non-Kuwaitis--treated as inferiors, although they outnumbered Kuwaiti citizens--were still willing to accept that status in exchange for solid employment in a country where there was little risk beyond the possibility that biennial leave might be postponed for an additional year.

The hope of Easter has not been sustained. Kuwait is in political and social turmoil. Dangerously symptomatic is the regime's recent request to the American and British governments to maintain military establishments on Kuwaiti territory. Only the uninitiated could believe the request was made for regional security reasons: Kuwait's rulers, simply put, are afraid of their own citizens and of the numerous foreign residents.

In the words of one senior Western diplomat. "The Kuwaitis have lived too well, too long. Now, they must make hard choices, and I am not at all sure they are up to it." More than fifty years of extraordinary wealth have created a cradle-to-grave security for Kuwaiti citizens that gives many a careless attitude bordering on sloth. Handed everything from free education and medical care to home loans that need not be repaid, most Kuwaitis didn't care that, at the last parliamentary elections, only 32,000 of more than 600,000 citizens had the franchise.

But war and occupation have changed such attitudes, radically. Kuwaitis who had been herded into second- or third-class citizenship are no longer docilely accepting the rule of the house of Al Sabah. Partially understood but vehemently enunciated demands for democracy resound in all-but-unheard-of political gatherings.

The ruling family appears incapable of grasping the frustration and disgust. One prominent dissident put it this way last April: "Can you imagine Charles de Gaulle marching down the Champs Elysees three weeks after the Nazi invaders left Paris? Of course not. But we Kuwaitis had to wait that long for the privilege of our Emir to return."

Both the Emir and his half-brother the Prime Minister have been unduly cautious in their efforts to get the society and economy moving again. It has taken them seven months--with urging unstinting by the country's merchant families to appoint a committee to assess war damages, and thus reimburse businessmen for millions in lost buildings and inventories. Enterprising businessmen have resorted to making their own videotape records of damages and starting repairs sufficient to get back into operation, with no guarantee that reimbursement will ever be forthcoming.

"Emergency" repair and recovery efforts for the oilfields, absolutely critical to the one-product economy, have been repeatedly hobbled by insistence that multimillion-dollar contracts be subjected to a lengthy competitive-bidding process that might save a few thousand dollars--in the context of a financial and ecological disaster that has seen more than $100 million daily burn into the atmosphere. Informed observers ranging from Red Adair to U.S. Army Corps of Engineers professionals are incredulous. Said one American firefighting supervisor, "Nero could not have been so thoughtless of what was happening to Rome, as the Kuwaiti establishment appears to be to their national heritage. My disgust is only surpassed by my desire to earn the salary this job brings with it."

Worst off are the Palestinians. Although stories abound of courageous efforts by Palestinians to preserve the assets of their Kuwaiti employers, the PLO's support of Saddam Hussein embittered most Kuwaitis so thoroughly that they are making life intolerable for their Palestinian residents.

Debris of war and other garbage had been assiduously collected from the entire city by the end of April--except for one area, the Palestinian neighborhood of Halawi. Finally, in August, city work crews started a half-hearted effort to clean the area. Furthermore, Palestinian employees in government agencies had not been paid as of the end of August, although Kuwaiti workers were receiving salaries regularly. The Palestinians were told that they could either keep working or lose their jobs. The Palestinian population, which was over 400,000 before August 2, 1990, stood at 250,000 and is steadily decreasing as Palestinians pack and leave for an uncertain future in tense, strife-ridden Jordan.