Taha A. Lemkhir
A voice from Morocco

From Cairo to Riyadh: Peace Means Downfall

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Why Arab Autocrats Fear Israel’s Freedom More Than Its Firepower.

The Middle East today feels like a theater of despair: killings, suffering, and outrage staged by states that despise life and its sanctity. Signifying nothing but destruction, the region marches toward death. Yet amid this chaos, one fact remains: Israel, the only democracy in the Middle East, terrifies its neighbors—not because of its military might, but precisely because it is democratic.

History repeats itself. Democracies have always unsettled autocracies. From the Soviet Union’s tormented experience with a democratic West, to Russia’s invasion of a pro‑Western Ukraine, to the totalitarian regimes of the Middle East, the same story unfolds: authoritarian rulers dread the proximity of free societies. Think of it as the Beatles against communist marching bands—one side singing about love and freedom, the other droning on about obedience and the collective. The mere sound of democracy’s guitar riffs is enough to shake the walls of authoritarian palaces, because autocrats know that once people start humming along, their rule is out of tune. Israel’s existence as a democratic state is the true source of anxiety for Arab regimes, far more than the Palestinian question they invoke as a convenient altar for grievances.

Double-faced Egypt

It is naïve to believe that Saudi Arabia or Egypt genuinely care about Palestinian rights. These regimes treat their own citizens like sheep to be herded, let alone foreigners. Their protests are not principled stands for justice but calculated maneuvers to preserve legitimacy. And legitimacy, in their eyes, is not earned through freedom or accountability but through survival—often secured in the chaos of war and despair. And why do you think Egypt is suddenly sending reinforcements to Hamas through drones loaded with guns and rifles? The IDF, in retaliation, is now developing new methods to confront it, but it is clear that the Egyptian junta ruling Egypt is no partner of peace. Its interests lie in preserving the old paradigm in which Cairo is constantly needed to mediate between Hamas and Israel—granting the general international legitimacy that would otherwise be absent. And after Israel’s takeover of Rafah, and hence control over the border with Egypt, the underground routes used to smuggle weapons into the strip have been lost as well, stripping Egypt of one of its most valuable pressure cards and exposing how fragile its claim to indispensability has become. And even though Egypt is at odds with the Egyptian charter of the Muslim Brotherhood, it has nonetheless developed a pragmatic, interest‑driven relationship with its Palestinian branch, Hamas.

The quid pro quo policy

President Donald Trump understood this dynamic and played it to his advantage. His deals offered Arab despots a rare window to re‑establish their authority. Abdel Fattah el‑Sisi, long accused of staging a military coup and dismissed as a general in a suit, now hosts conferences and welcomes heads of state from Europe and elsewhere who endorse his rule while ignoring his human rights record. Mohammed bin Salman, once vilified globally for the brutal killing of a journalist, now strolls through the White House with handshakes and photo ops. Even the Washington Post, which once vowed to haunt him for his crime, has fallen silent.

Trump’s genius lies in subtle recognition of these leaders’ true status. He calls Recep Tayyip Erdoğan a “tough guy,” hinting at fraudulent elections without saying so outright. He refers to Sisi as “the general” in Sharm el‑Sheikh. He declares he would shake bin Salman’s hand “no matter where it was.” These are not slips of the tongue—they are deliberate signals. The president of the one country that matters most in enforcing democracy has effectively given these rulers a green light to prevail. This is the quid pro quo tacit doctrine: he allows them to rule uncontested, without interference or the unleashing of human‑rights groups against them, and in return they accept the deals he offers. And now, the Gaza war has handed them a new layer of legitimacy—one they are milking to the fullest extent.

In my view, talk of normalization beyond what has already been achieved is little more than fantasy. Jordan and Egypt—despite their formal peace agreements with Israel—remain shackled to a hollow, obsolete peace that exists on paper but not in spirit. Saudi Arabia, meanwhile, stands as the cradle and chief exporter of Wahhabism, a sect whose doctrines have long fueled some of the most virulent strains of antisemitism within Islam itself. And after Trump declared that if Saudi Arabia were to normalize relations with Israel the rest of the Arab world would follow, Riyadh suddenly felt more self‑important and relevant, convinced it could play this card indefinitely—leveraging its symbolic weight to stall, posture, and milk the illusion of normalization without ever embracing its substance.

Honey, disconnect the phone…

Within their own societies, they continue to keep the antisemitic flame alive, ensuring that hostility toward Israel remains a convenient tool of legitimacy. These are authoritarian regimes, deeply unsettled by the prospect of genuine rapprochement with a democratic nation. For them, Israel represents not only perceived prosperity and regional security—elements they can forgo—but the value they dread most: freedom. And freedom, if allowed to seep across their borders, would expose the fragility of their rule. That is why normalization is not simply a diplomatic hurdle—it is an existential threat. To embrace Israel openly would be to invite their own downfall, for democracy is the one contagion they cannot afford to let spread.

The result is a paradox: autocrats who once feared exposure now find cover in the very chaos they helped create. Israel’s democracy remains a threat to their survival, but Trump’s tacit endorsement offers them a shield. In the Middle East, legitimacy is not built on justice or freedom—it is manufactured in blood, havoc, and the quiet nods of powerful allies.

To my friends in Israel:

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow…

About the Author
Moroccan writer and storyteller based in Marrakech, I bring a sharp, introspective lens to the socio-political currents of the Middle East. Once an Islamist, now a critic of Islamism, I challenge dogma and explore the region’s evolving identity. I believe in a future of coexistence—where voices meet, not clash, and we build a better life together.
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