Why Arab armies don’t win wars

In the early hours of 5th June 1967, Gamal ‘Abd al-Nasser, the revolutionary leader of Egypt, received good news from his commanders. The Egyptian Air Force had destroyed three quarters of the Israeli Air Force and was laying waste to what was left of the enemy’s airbases. This information was immediately telegraphed to Egypt’s allies – Syria, Jordan, and Iraq – who enthusiastically entered the fray, expecting a walkover.

Nasser’s commanders hadn’t been entirely honest. Three quarters of an air force had been destroyed, but it was the Egyptian one: the Israelis had bombed 298 of Egypt’s 420 combat aircraft on the tarmac. In the face of the lightning Israeli ground offensive, Egyptian officers jumped in their staff cars and abandoned their men. The ensuing Six-Day War saw the coalition of Arab states lose 70,000 square kilometers of territory, despite fielding many more troops, tanks, and aircraft than their Israeli opponents.

In Armies of Sand, former CIA analyst Kenneth Pollack explores why Arab militaries have underwhelmed on the battlefield, despite routinely enjoying advantages in men and materiel. This is not simply a product of superior Israeli military sophistication. Gaddafi’s Libya suffered a series of defeats at the hands of poverty-stricken Chad, while Saddam Hussein mounted what Pollack dubs ‘one of the most pathetic military offensives of the past century’ against Iran.

There are a few common theories among experts. For example, many Arab states relied heavily on Soviet doctrine and training. This emphasized preplanned operations and centralized control. When the situation on the battlefield changed unpredictably, officers froze. During the Yom Kippur War of 1973, the Syrians broke through Israeli defenses on the Golan Heights. But instead of pressing their advantage, the Syrian troops paused, in line with their pre-war plan. In the meantime, the Israelis rushed reserves forward and retook the territory. 

Another common explanation is politicization. Leaders often feared their own militaries more than those of their opponents. This led to promotions based on loyalty and purges of experienced officers. At one point, Saddam Hussein had as many as sixteen different security services, which devoted an inordinate amount of time to spying on each other.

Pollack finds these explanations lacking. Cuba and North Korea both relied on Soviet doctrine and performed creditably in their twentieth-century military engagements. After substantial depoliticization in the 1970s, Egyptian military performance remained as dismal as ever.

Instead, he argues that these failures stem from patterns common in many Arab cultures: deference to authority, loyalty to the in-group over outsiders, a premium on personal honor, and horror of shame. The fear of shame explains why Nasser’s commanders told him he was winning, while the deference to hierarchy explains why battalion officers would stick to orders long after they ceased to make sense.

Pollack locates much of this culture in formal and informal education. The Arab family is large, patriarchal, and built around the father’s unquestioned authority. Modern Arab education has its origins in the Quranic schools that were, for centuries, the main form of education in much of the region. In these schools, knowledge comes down from a higher authority, and pedagogy is based on memorization.

When governments built mass public school systems in the 1950s and 60s, they changed the syllabus but preserved the teaching methods, which emphasize rote learning over problem solving. This tendency seeps into military training, which often consists of rehearsing pre-scripted maneuvers. An American trainer working with Egypt’s elite F-16 pilots recalled that ‘they know where to turn, and where to pretend to fire munitions, and who is going to win’ before exercises started and that they would get ‘extremely upset when someone did something he was not supposed to do’.

In most Arab offices and government ministries, authority is concentrated at the top and risk taking isn’t rewarded. Bosses behave as patriarchs who lend money to staff, mediate personal disputes, and intervene in family matters. In one study of Egyptian, Saudi, and Sudanese bureaucracies, 90 percent of senior officials deemed their subordinates ‘unqualified to innovate’. The Egyptian or Iraqi lieutenant standing on the battlefield has been immersed in this worldview, likely for decades, across successive institutions.

The exceptions largely support Pollack’s case. Hezbollah emerged as a highly capable fighting force after reducing its numbers following the Lebanese Civil War. This meant they retained only the small minority of culturally atypical individuals who’d proven themselves on the battlefield. Meanwhile, Islamic State, at its 2014 peak, drew its most gifted commanders from Chechens, Uzbeks, and Tajiks.

Anyone who has interacted with a bank or government ministry in the Middle East will recognize many of the traits Pollack describes. They continue to pose a challenge for regional efforts at social and economic reform.