There is no peace in the house of Islam. First there was the epic struggle for regional power between Saudi Arabia and Iran. Now comes a nasty schism over Qatar’s protection of the secretive Muslim Brotherhood.
If the West is to understand the spiritual roots of the terrorism testing its cities then it must get to grips with the Brotherhood. That was one of the messages relayed to Donald Trump on his recent visit to the Middle East. If the president follows Saudi advice and imposes economic sanctions on Qatar — and there is US legislation in the works punishing those who support “terrorist elements of the Muslim Brotherhood” — then Britain too will have to look again at this sinister fraternity. It should come off the fence and prepare to ban the organisation.
Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Egypt and half a dozen other states have broken off diplomatic relations with Qatar. Panic buying has already begun in Qatari supermarkets since most of its food passes through Saudi Arabia. The unspoken ultimatum from Riyadh seems to be this: sever links with the Brotherhood or we will drag this feud on for years and undermine Qatar’s biggest prestige project, its hosting of the 2022 World Cup.
“Many Brothers accept political violence to create an Islamic state
The trigger came in the form of reported (and denied) comments by the Emir of Qatar, Sheikh Tamin bin Hamad al-Thani, in which he urged a more conciliatory approach to Iran, declared the Trump administration would not last long and praised the Muslim Brotherhood-affiliated Hamas movement. As a way of making multiple enemies, it was a master stroke. The Saudis see the speech as an attempt to sap its leadership of a broad Sunni coalition to contain Iran. And it is convinced that the emirate has completely fallen under the spell of the Brotherhood. It demands that Qatar expels all Brotherhood officials, pulls the plug on a Turkish-based TV station that gives a voice to exiled Egyptian Brotherhood members, and stops giving citizenship to dissidents from across the region. Or else.
In the Saudi world view monarchies and political establishments are classic targets of Brotherhood subversion. Their closeness to the people, their talent for running charities, the bewildering number of front groups make them a nightmare for regime secret policemen. Except for Egypt, where the Brotherhood, in the form of the Freedom and Justice Party, gained enough electoral support to form the government in 2012-2013, it eschews power and accountability. Instead it infiltrates student bodies and trades unions, and operates often through networks of businessmen. Even after ousting the Brotherhood, purging and jailing its supporters, the Egyptian president Abdel Fattah al-Sisi still fears their return as an opposition force.
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I have always been sceptical about the Saudi and Egyptian version of the Brotherhood. It appears to have no serious political ambitions in Britain: why not let it function unless it manifestly breaks the law? I have changed my mind. Partly, it was the Libyan connection. At least one of the Manchester concert attackers grew up in an exile community, sympathisers with the Libyan Islamic Fighting Group and with the so-called Islamic Group. Their background is rooted in the Muslim Brotherhood activists who fled to Europe and the US after Gaddafi started to hunt them down.
The Brotherhood takes three years or more to screen recruits; in Britain, many are lawyers, architects and doctors. Some are approached but decline and become “supporters” rather than full-blooded members, raising funds for the construction of mosques and sponsoring religious literature. For the most part the Brothers use London as a base for activity in the Gulf, Gaza and Egypt.
Many Brothers in exile stay true to early writings that accept political violence as part of the struggle to create an authentic Islamic state. The teachings of an early Brotherhood ideologue, Sayyid Qutb, inspired many terrorist offshoots, spurred on the assassins of ill-starred Egyptian leader Anwar Sadat, and informed a medical student called Ayman al-Zawahiri who went on to co-found al-Qaeda. Mosques still feel it is fine for preachers to sing the praises of Hamas and curse Israel because they can refer to the apparent respectability of the late Qutb and other Brothers.
Banning the Brotherhood is complex, as Trump is discovering. He can hit out at their protectors in Qatar but the emir could retaliate by throwing out the US base south of Doha. He can outlaw the Brotherhood only if it can be shown to be a single organisation, and it may be too diffuse to pass that hurdle. Some chapters use terror; others pose as the Islamic equivalent of the Salvation Army. Trump also has to prove a direct link between the Brotherhood and terror threats against the US. That too is complex — the Brotherhood spends a great deal on lawyers.
Britain will have a similar problem in blacklisting the group, hence the shoe-shuffling approach to the report prepared for David Cameron by diplomat Sir John Jenkins in 2014. It must start by identifying a simple truth about the Brotherhood: it is a thriving financial concern, backed by regular contributions from members and sponsors. Money is being shuffled across the world and together with the US and Israel we should be able to build up a coherent picture of terror financing. At that stage we can start winding up the organisation, confident in the knowledge that the ban will survive an embarrassing court challenge. Will we be safer as a result? I believe so.