THE events rocking Rupert Murdoch’s media empire have been compared to the ‘Arab Spring’. That may be an exaggeration, but there is at least one respect in which the analogy isn’t spurious: the British political establishment appears to have overcome its fear of Murdoch.

The loss of fear was instrumental in precipitating the rebellions that have stirred the Arab world — but not, at least thus far, substantially changed it.

Syria has lately been the primary focus of attention, with regular reports of violence — and fatalities — pouring in from various parts of the country, amid half-hearted steps towards the possibility of peaceful reform. Some of the deadliest confrontations have occurred in Hama, which nearly 30 years ago became a byword for ruthless repression when Hafez Al Assad’s regime massacred up to 20,000 Syrians, purportedly to put down an Islamist rebellion.

Until then, Assad, who assumed power in a 1970 coup, had been generally been portrayed as a relatively progressive dictator alongside his counterparts in the so-called frontline Arab states, notably Libya’s Muammar Qadhafi and Algeria’s Houari Boumediene. The perception changed and when, almost a decade later, the US led an assault against Iraq following Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait, Assad enthusiastically leapt into the war — unlike Jordan’s King Hussein, a longstanding American ally.

His hopes of winning America’s favour were only partially rewarded, however. When the full-fledged invasion of Iraq came a dozen years later, Damascus was openly being cited as a target. But that was always contingent on the march to Baghdad being a cakewalk, which it turned out not to be. This was despite the 2000 transition in Syria, when Assad’s demise had led to a succession unique in the annals of non-monarchical Arab states.

It still seems remarkable that barely an eyebrow was raised anywhere in the world when the Syrian presidency was handed to Hafez’s ophthalmologist son, Bashar.The West was keen to cast him as a potential reformist, on the basis that he had lived and worked in Britain for some years. His political credentials were exclusively hereditary. He made the sort of noises that appealed to the West. That he was seen by the largely Alawite ruling coterie in Damascus as the best available means of perpetuating its power didn’t seem to matter.

The latter was counting on popular acquiescence, honed over the previous 30 years, to the idea of having an Assad at the helm. They were confident that any reformist urges Bashar might possess could be curtailed. They were right. The level of repression may have been lowered somewhat, but in any meaningful respect, continuity trumped change.

Perhaps it’s not entirely surprising that the initial protests in Syria earlier this year, in the wake of the uprisings in Tunisia and Egypt, tended to envisage reform within the context of the Assad/Alawite ascendancy. It took the regime’s reaction to underscore the realisation that any serious transformation must involve an overthrow of the hierarchy that has wielded — and abused — power across four decades.

It is worth noting, though, that the reaction to events in Syria, among Arab governments as well as in the West, has been markedly different from the position they were eager to adopt on Libya — where an insidious Nato bombing campaign has weakened, but thus far failed to dislodge, the Qadhafi regime. Although diplomatic pressure on Damascus has sporadically been intensified, there is no indication that it will be subjected to the same sort of treatment.

That’s a fortuitous outcome, partly related to contrasting perceptions of Qadhafi and the younger Assad, but barely sustainable in the light of what has lately been happening in Syria.

However, the fact that increasing numbers of countries are lending official recognition to the Libyan rebels offers little indication of what lies ahead in that country. Chances are Qadhafi will be hounded out of power before long, but the nature of any possible successor regime remains indeterminate.

The political defections from his ranks over recent months suggested an outcome not unlike that in Tunisia or Egypt, where the figureheads have been discarded but the structures that sustained them effectively remain intact. Something along those lines may well be the next step.

However, the recent popular mobilisations in Egypt and Tunisia suggest that change which means more of the same under a different guise will ultimately prove unacceptable. The revolting Egyptians saw their national army as a potential ally.

They are now beginning to realise, in sufficient numbers, that the military hierarchy was sharp enough to perceive the uprising against Mubarak as an opportunity rather than a reprimand. It remains in power, and its supremacy affords a degree of comfort to the formidable powers that have a vested interest in the shape of things to come in the Arab world: namely the US, Israel and Saudi Arabia.

They invested much in the status quo ante. They are now willing to endeavour, to the best of their ability — and with the aid of global financial institutions — to keep in place arrangements that serve their purposes. Which effectively means the prospect of power to the people must be avoided at any cost.

It is not impossible that popular sentiments across the Arab world will, in one country after another, thwart the hopes and inclinations of the established elites and their neo-imperialist allies. And should that process gather momentum, chances are that women in Saudi Arabia will be agitating before too long for more than the right to get behind the wheel of four-wheel-drives.

However, as things stand, it is not just in Libya and Syria, but also in Libya, Tunisia, Yemen, Morocco and Bahrain that the fruits of democracy are yet to be harvested.

And let no one be under any illusion that Murdoch’s comeuppance, welcome as it undoubtedly is, spells the end of the West’s neoliberal orthodoxy.

mahir.dawn@gmail.com