The Hollow Crown: Jordan's Tribal Revolt and the Death of the Buffer State.
While the West strikes Tehran, the Arab street is walking away. In the tents of the Ban Hassan and the Howeitat, the sword of allegiance has already been withdrawn.
There is a dangerous, almost quiet delusion taking hold in Western capitals today. As Israeli and U.S. strikes target Iranian infrastructure, the so-called experts, sitting in their air-conditioned studios, describe a region united against Tehran. But if one were to get out of the studio, one would get a perception that Western scholars and leaders would not be ready to hear.
While the leaders of the Gulf and the Levant meet in Jeddah for another round of empty handshakes and carefully polished comments, the Arab street had already made its choice.
A choice that was reaffirmed by the Israeli attack on the Iranian South Pars gas field, which raised the oil prices to $109 a barrel. The attack unleashed a level of anger not seen before.
The anger, however, is not directed toward Iran but rather the Arab leadership. From Bahrain to Kuwait to Saudi Arabia, the general population is blaming their leadership for trading their sovereignty and stability for hollow promises of the Abraham Accords. Promises that are wrapped around an “Epstein-style” Western leadership. To the average worker in Riyadh, their own leaders are the ones who allowed this fire to enter their borders, not Iran. To these people, Iran is merely defending itself from attacks by Israel and its backers.
In Jordan, the anger and the resentment have reached the very bedrock of the monarchy. The East Bank Tribes, the Bani Hassan and the Howeitat, who protected the Hashemite kingdom for nearly a century, have decided to no longer act as the shield for the house of Hashim.
They have instead done the unthinkable: openly challenging the king and asking for a replacement. They have physically unplugged from the state by blocking what is referred to as the “Zionist Land Bridge,” a multi-country trade corridor that starts at the ports of Dubai or Manama but ends in Jordan before heading to Israel.
By physically sitting on the primary transport main lines and blocking the roads to the borders, these tribes create a logistical catastrophe for both the U.S. and Israel. By halting the flow of essential goods, spare parts, and interceptor refills that the U.S. needs to maintain its presence at “nerve center” bases like Muwaffak Salti, the tribes undermine the ability to sustain these military efforts.
For King Abdullah, the internal political pressure is equally devastating. There are calls for his replacement. In the tents of the north and the south, the name spoken is that of Prince Hamzah. Seen as the symbol of “old Jordan” who still speaks the language of the desert, Prince Hamza is viewed as the Arab leader who would not cave to foreign interests.
Even the elder Prince Hassan, King Abdullah’s uncle, is being discussed as a “steady hand” to navigate a crisis that King Abdullah seems unable to contain.
For the Jordanian tribes, like many in the Gulf region, they see their current leader as a globalized Western leader whose desperate attempt to be considered Western has led to the devastation of their land. They are all asking how a leader who has no problem quickly coordinating with the West to attack another Islamic nation, particularly during Ramadan, could not use the same influence to protect the Palestinians.
These concerns are whispered in every tent, in every tribe, in every state; for King Abdullah, and all other monarchs or emirs, unless the question is answered, the position is no longer guaranteed.
As of March 19, the king is presiding over a “Hollow Crown.” He has the tile, the palaces, and international recognition, but he has lost the tribes, the radar, the asphalt, and the hearts of his people.
For the King and the U.S., when the next strike comes, it may not be the Iranian missile that will end the Hashemite Kingdom of Abdullah but rather the silent, final withdrawal of the tribal swords that once protected this throne.