So, who is MBS? An after-read of the biography of Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, ‘MBS’ by Ben Hubbard
When the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia, Mohammed bin Salman, burst into the scene, making international headlines, the mood in the Gulf region was, in general, optimistic.
The region had just nearly survived two crises — the 2008 recession and the 2014 slowdown — lending credence to the inevitability of the seven-year economic cycle that we must live with (sure enough, we now have another, with the Covid-19 pandemic).
MBS was already the rising star, a young man with unbridled ambitions quite in keeping with the aspirations of the young people, who form the largest demographic of the Kingdom and the region.
His 2016 interview with Bloomberg, in which he outlined his US$2 trillion plan to diversify Saudi Arabia’s economy was, as we say here, “in line with” what people in the Gulf region are accustomed to: Massive government-backed infrastructure projects that would create new opportunities, jobs and the promise of a brighter future.
When you live in the Gulf, mostly following its media, and keeping whatever views quite to oneself, your cynicism tends to harden. Yet when you see many grandiose plans coming to life and delivering on the promise, you are tempted to believe that even artificial moons — MBS wants one for his pet project NEOM — will become real.
In the months that followed since MBS gained global stature, he was increasingly lionized in regional (and global) media supported by Saudi Arabia’s chain of reforms that would now fundamentally alter the Kingdom (or may not, deep down).
Then the Jamal Khashoggi incident brought in a wrap of silence; none in the region was sure what to say. After all, it was Saudi Arabia, and after all, a royal has been challenged to prove his innocence.
Now, nearly two years after the tempestuous incident, when Ben Hubbard, the New York Times scribe’s book, MBS, reaches you, its reading is, by default, in neutral mode.
The awe you formed of MBS following the 2017 interviews, the dread of the Khashoggi aftermath, and the realities that the Kingdom now faces have tempered your outlook. By instinct, you know that the book will have its share of shock-and-awe anecdotes — and those, there are, aplenty.
But unlike Inside the Kingdom, that seminal work on Saudi Arabia by Robert Lacey, whom Hubbard thanks profusely, the canvas of MBS is rather narrow (given the subject’s relevant timespan that the book covers).
While Juhayman was the propelling narrative of Lacey, the arc of Hubbard’s story-telling is driven by Khashoggi. In fact, without it, the book would have probably fallen flat, except for some new personal insights about the Crown Prince, many that could be considered ‘normal’ in the Kingdom.
Hubbard also presents a vivid account of former Lebanese Prime Minister Saad Hariri’s ‘forced resignation’ — again to underline the ruthlessness of personal ambition.
With a heady dose of cinematic story-telling, Hubbard presents the back-end boys in these dramas.
Among them is Saud Al-Qahtani, who headed the Center for Studies and Media Affairs at the Royal Court. Hubbard writes: “…he oversaw most overt operations aimed at shaping the conversation around MBS and crushing dissenting voices at home and abroad.” This after a detailed account of Al-Qahtani’s brushes with Hacker Team. Creepy? Yes. Frightening? For sure.
However, what makes the book a must-read are the elaborate accounts that Hubbard weaves around the defining moments of Saudi Arabia in recent months — women allowed to drive, the Guardianship law being revoked, cinemas opening…
He brings in compelling historical context, where needed, and the contemporary realities (of young people gushing over MBS) so much that reading MBS makes you realise that you will never get to know Saudi unless you live in the Kingdom, understand the complex transformations the Kingdom went through, and its own innate character that few outsiders can ever truly understand, let alone assimilate.
MBS does not vilify the Crown Prince any more than it presents a journalist’s account of modern-day Saudi Arabia. And it doesn’t glorify him either.
The subtexts that Hubbard presents, making you rush to re-read Lacey’s account of the Kingdom, highlight the complexities that Saudi Arabia has and will continue to battle — pitting religion and reforms — in a complex theatre of war with complex protagonists and ruthless antagonists. (Pick and place your choice to identify them: UAE, Palestine, USA, Russia, Qatar, Yemen, Iran, Israel, Hezbollah, Al Qaeda, Daesh… and Trump, Kushner, Obama, El-Sisi, Ayatollah Khomeini….)
Interesting asides in the story of MBS vis-à-vis US Presidents Barack Obama and Donald Trump, Trump’s son-in-law Jared Kushner, and world business leaders such as Jeff Bezos; the elaborate messages that Khashoggi shared with his friend Maggie Mitchell Salem (who worked for Qatar Foundation — yes, adding to the drama), and the afterword account of ‘what the world can expect from a Saudi Arabia ruled by Mohammed bin Salman’ not only add to the raciness of reading MBS but also demonstrate the elaborate journalistic research and insights Hubbard brings to the book.
In the end, you form your own opinion of MBS — which need not necessarily be shared here.
But you find in the story of the young man many a parallel in several politicians, now heading nations and counties/states, and you realise that perhaps we are well into the era of hardboiled leaders, who along with their personal ambitions will also promise and deliver artificial moons that awe their fans and silence their critics.
Maybe the new dictum we must live with is: ‘get things done whatever it takes.’
ENDS
