The toppling of a brutal, corrupt, and long-ruling dictator, Zine el Abidine ben Ali, is an extraordinary achievement for the diverse elements of Tunisian society who came out into the streets in recent weeks to demand change. Ben Ali's startling fall is another reminder of how suddenly political change can come in authoritarian regimes that substitute force, fear, and fraud for legitimacy. Such regimes may appear stable for very long periods of time, but when the people lose their fear and the army refuses to fire on the people, they can unravel very quickly.

Unfortunately, the demise of a dictator does not guarantee the rise of a democracy in its place.  Historically, most authoritarian regimes have given way to a new (and often only slightly reconstituted) autocracy. This has been the principle pattern not only in the successor states to the Soviet Union, but in much of Africa since independence, and in numerous states in Asia and Latin America historically as well. In the Middle East, the odds against a successful democratic transition are particularly long, since there have hardly been any (outside Turkey and Israel) since the end of colonial rule. In Iran in 1979, a popular uprising against a long-serving dictator led not to democracy but rather to an even more odious and murderous form of oppression.

 If Tunisia is to defy the odds, it will need a significant period of time to reform the corrupt rules and institutions of the authoritarian regime and create an open, pluralistic society and party system that is capable of structuring democratic competition. Even if elections for a successor government are pushed out to six months, rather than sixty days, it is highly unlikely that this will provide sufficient time to create even a minimally fair and functional democratic playing field. 

Think of the many components of a democratic election, and Tunisia today is far from having them in place. After decades of fixed and phony elections, Tunisia needs a complete overhaul of its electoral machinery: a new and impartial electoral administration, a new electoral register, and perhaps as well a new electoral system. An energetic program of civic education should help Tunisians understand not only the mechanics of a democratic electoral process but also the underlying norms, rights, and responsibilities of democratic citizenship. This is a long process, but from Poland to Chile to South Africa, civil society organizations have shown that much can be accomplished to lay the foundations for popular democratic awareness and capacity if the models, materials, and resources are made available, and if there is a decent interval of time and political space to do the work. Doing this work-and enabling political parties and candidates to convey their messages-also requires a new and more pluralistic media environment. State control of the electronic and print media must be radically refashioned.  Privately owned media must be allowed to form and function, and critics of the old order must be allowed to enter the arena of ownership.

An effective democratic election requires not just freedom of opposition parties to organize, but time, resources, and training for them to form-or reform-and develop some ability to perform the essential functions of modern parties:  to establish what they stand for, to develop programmatic agendas, to elect leaders and recruit candidates, to forge ties with constituencies, and to survey public opinion and respond with appropriate messages. Trade unions, business chambers, and other civic groups need time as well to purge themselves of corrupting ties to the old order, or form anew, cultivate their natural constituencies, and build an authentic civil society.  Independent think tanks and public opinion surveys can also help to structure and enrich an emergent democratic process, but they as well need time and resources to function effectively.

Free and fair elections-especially in a context where they have never taken place before-also require extensive preparations for domestic monitoring and international observation, so that fraud can be detected and deterred, honest mistakes can be exposed and corrected, and public confidence can be generated in the new procedures.

Many of these tasks are ongoing after a successful transition to democracy, and setting too ambitious an agenda for reform could risk waiting indefinitely and squandering the opportunity for democratic change. But one of the most common reasons for failed transitions is a rush to early national elections and a failure to prepare the ground adequately for a fair and meaningful contest. Two common consequences of hurried elections are chaos or renewed autocracy, as some portions of the old order rally behind a new figure or old party and win by hook or crook. 

Unfortunately, there are also risks in waiting too long. Democratic energy in society can dissipate.  If (putative) democratic forces enter into a broad-based transitional government, as is now happening in Tunisia, they risk being corrupted or tainted with the stench of the old order if they hang around for too long, sharing some authority and stature but no real power. A prolonged transitional period can also give authoritarian forces time to regroup, purge the worst elements, present cosmetic changes, divide and confuse the opposition, and return to power under the guise of a pseudo-democracy. That is why it is important that opposition figures in Tunisia insist on a serious program of institutional and possibly constitutional reform during the transitional period, with extensive public dialogue and broad popular participation, so that interim rule is not a stagnant pause but rather a dynamic historical moment that engages and mobilizes public opinion for real democratic change. The risks of delay could also be reduced if a non-partisan, technocratic figure, not associated with the Ben Ali's political machine, could be tapped to lead the interim government, and if the political opposition could unify to negotiate strong conditions for the period of interim rule, including basic freedoms, an end to censorship, and removal of Ben Ali loyalists from the cabinet.

There is an important role for international actors at this seminal moment in Tunisian history. Like peoples throughout the Middle East and other post-colonial spaces, Tunisians are understandably wary of foreign intervention. After a quarter-century of lavish Western (especially French) aid and political comfort to Ben Ali, Tunisians will no doubt cast a suspicious eye on grants, statements and actions that purport to now, suddenly, want to build democracy in Tunisia. But Tunisians may welcome limited and specific steps if they are transparent and taken in careful consultation with diverse elements of Tunisia's civil society and historic opposition. 

Fortunately, Tunisia has many liberal and democratic figures in business, intellectual, cultural, and civic life who understand what liberal democracy is and would like to see it emerge in Tunisia. And it has other distinct advantages. It is a relatively small country in size and population, which makes some of the tasks of institution building and promotion of democratic norms a bit easier. Educational levels are relatively high, and there is a significant infrastructure of a middle class society. The security forces seem to be divided, and it appears the army refused to fire on peaceful protestors-a very positive precedent. Without blood on its hands from the recent violence, the army is better poised than other elements of state security to guarantee a process of democratic change, if its leadership comes down in favor of it (for whatever reason). And in contrast to Algeria, Egypt, or Jordan, Islamists do not seem to have strong public support. Thus, it is difficult for the forces of the ancien regime to manipulate public fears of radical Islam (or of disorder that the old elites themselves covertly generate) in order to discredit liberalism as naïve and ride back to power. 

It is vital that Europe and the United States not fall again for the specter of disorder or an Islamist surge, but rather insist on genuine democratic reforms, and tie future aid and geopolitical support to this. The US and EU should hold forth the prospect of Tunisia achieving a special and potentially transformative status in economic relations if it negotiates the path to become the first Arab democracy of this era. At the same time, they should threaten to institute targeted travel and financial sanctions against diehard defenders of the old order who frustrate or sabotage a democratic transition, or who use violence against peaceful demonstrators.  These kinds of prospective inducements, positive and negative, can help to tip the balance in the calculations of a lot of elites from outside the Ben Ali "family" but who were part of the Ben Ali regime and must now be wondering where their own interests lie. To complement the necessary private messages, the US ambassador (and others representing democracies in Tunis) should stand up publicly for democratic reforms, embrace democratic reformers, support new democratic initiatives with small grants, and warn old regime elites against repression.

In the coming weeks and months, American and European democracy foundations and aid organizations, along with the United Nations and its political assistance programs in the UNDP, can do a lot-transparently, and in consultation with Tunisian society-to train and support the emerging infrastructure of democracy in the state administration, political parties, and civil society. The funding required to make a difference is not large in absolute terms, and it should be a priority. Time is of the essence, and more flexible instruments, like USAID's Office of Transition Initiatives, should be tapped to activate assistance quickly.        

History-and the grim realities of pervasive authoritarianism in what is known in the political science discipline as a "bad neighborhood"-do not justify a high degree of optimism about the prospects for democracy in Tunisia. Yet the third wave of global democratization is replete with instances of successful democratization in even more unlikely circumstances. The speed with which the Tunisian protests mushroomed in a few weeks from a lone act of self-sacrifice to a national uprising, and the intensity with which this uprising has resonated in nearby countries, shows the pent-up demand for democratic change in the Arab world. If that demand can be directed toward pursuit of concrete institutional reform, with timely international support, the Jasmine Revolution could surprise again, by giving birth to the first Arab democracy of our time.

It took just 29 days for President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali to flee Tunisia after mass protests erupted in the country.  Twenty-three years of authoritarian rule crumbling in less than a month is rather remarkable, especially considering the relative “calm” that had prevailed in Tunisia during those two decades.

Tunisia rarely hit the headlines then. No Islamists threatening to overtake the government (the Islamist al-Nahda party was outlawed in 1991). No terrorist networks causing security concerns (the exception being the sole attack on a synagogue in 2002 which catalyzed stepped up security measures). No strategic interests for the USA to speak of. And Ben Ali’s regime succeeded in marketing Tunisia as a safe tourist haven. Cities like Hammamet allowed tourists to be parachuted into newly built all-inclusive resorts that could have been anywhere in the world. There was even a custom-built, sanitized version of a traditional medinah in Yasmine Hammamet, which reminded one more of the artificiality of the world landmarks in Las Vegas than of real North African souks.

Tunisia’s sanitized image was also due to a severe crackdown on freedom of expression, as the country had one of the highest levels of media control—especially of the internet—in the world.

But what Ben Ali’s flight showed is how fragile the foundations of his rule were. So vulnerable that, in contrast to Iran and Egypt’s leaders’ resilience in the face of mass protests, he quickly offered one concession after another before completely giving up, making it clear that he was in fear for his life.

What will happen next in Tunisia is uncertain. The Tunisian opposition is divided into groups with wildly different agendas, from the Islamists of al-Nahda to the secular reformists of the Congress for the Republic headed by Moncef Marzouki. There is no political figure who can be clearly envisaged to become the next Tunisian president, and the way the balance will tip—will there be democracy, or another authoritarian regime of a merely different kind?—is unpredictable. But the clearest lessons that have emerged from Tunisia so far are that there is a real democratic potential in the Arab world and that authoritarian regimes in the region are not always what they appear to be. Those lessons are important on two fronts:

On the foreign policy front, the Tunisian uprising seems to have catalyzed US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton to make the US administration’s boldest verbal statement thus far on the need for reform in the Arab world. Describing the political order of some Arab countries as “stagnant”, Clinton, on a visit to Bahrain on January 13, said that “This is a critical moment and this is a test of leadership for all of us”.

The United States is continuously criticized by democracy experts for favoring stability over the risks of democracy in the Arab world, and for backing up authoritarian leaders—whether directly or indirectly—for fear of having to deal with an unfavorable alternative (namely, an Islamist government, as in Egypt or Syria). Tunisia should be a relatively easy case for the United States in this context, a litmus test of putting one’s money where one’s mouth is. But it also shows how applauding stability can make countries like the United States blind to the democratic potential lurking beneath the façade of seemingly impenetrable regimes.

Western governments—including that of the United States—have mostly publicly congratulated the Tunisian people on their uprising, and France and other European countries refused Ben Ali entry on Friday when his plane was looking for a place to land. This reaction has been met with cynicism by Hizbullah Secretary General Hassan Nasrallah, a man who, since 2006, has been working to build up his credentials as the only credible Arab leader in the present time.  In a speech on Sunday, Nasrallah was quick to point out the irony of Ben Ali’s lack of welcome in the very countries which he had “served” throughout the duration of his rule.  So, on the regional front, the case of Tunisia unveils how quickly US opponents like Nasrallah can capitalize on short-sighted foreign policy. Nasrallah’s statement paints Western support for authoritarian Arab leaders as a house of cards that can crumble with the slightest shake—a warning to the West and Arab leaders reliant on Western support alike.

It is no coincidence that the reaction to the developments in Tunisia by other Arab regimes has mostly been to lay low. And here we can find another, more important, house of cards. Ben Ali’s regime has been exposed for the decaying entity that it is, and already copycat protests in other Arab countries—Jordan, Algeria, Egypt, and even Mauritania—have started. While a blanket domino effect across the region is not likely, reformists can take heart from Tunisia’s experience: while an authoritarian regime may appear to be indestructible, it may well be a mere house of cards.    

Dr. Abbas Milani, Director of Iranian Studies at Stanford University, co-director of the Iran Democracy Project at the Hoover Institution, and CDDRL affiliated faculty has just published his latest book, The Shah, released by Palgrave Macmillan this month.

The 496 page memoir details the life and legacy of the last Shah of Iran, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, providing an authoritative account of his 37-year rule marked by forced modernization, political consolidation, and personal over-indulgence that drove his country into the throes of Islamic fundamentalism. Milani's biography sheds new light on the mercurial Shah through the examination of recently declassified materials and interviews, which provide intimate details of a monarch and his relationship to the West. To fully grasp Iran's potential for democratic reform today we must first examine its past. The Shah brings us closer to that understanding.

Dr. Milani will be the featured speaker at CDDRL's weekly seminar on January 20, addressing the topic of The Shah and Ayatollahs: Continuities and Ruptures.

The North Korean leader Kim Jong-il and his youngest son and presumed successor, Kim Jong-un, jointly attended military maneuvers on an unspecified date. This was the first official outing of the 27-year-old youngest son of the "Dear Leader." These maneuvers were held just before the Sunday celebration of the 65th anniversary of the founding of the Workers Party of Korea. David Straub, associate director of the Korean Studies Program at Stanford University, discussed the informal transfer of power that took place last week.

What was learned last week about the succession to Kim Jong-il in North Korea?

The maneuvers confirmed with near certainty the past few years of speculation that the third son of Kim Jong-il has been informally designated as his successor. This process is now public. This is the first time that the name of Kim Jong-un has been published in North Korea. However, as long as his father is alive and can govern, he will remain in power. But, clearly, his health is not good. This official outing of the son seems in preparation for the possibility that Kim Jong-il may die suddenly. Kim Jong-il suffered a stroke in 2008, after which he disappeared for several months. Upon his return, he had lost weight and appeared stiff and impaired on his left side.

Was Kim Jong-un touted as the successor?

There were no signs until a few years ago. First, it was Kim Jong-nam, the eldest son, who was favored. Officially, he fell out of the race when he was caught entering Japan with a forged passport. At the time, he told Japanese officials he wanted to take his son to Tokyo Disneyland [the target of an attempted contract killing by Kim Jong-un in 2008, the eldest now lives happily in Macao, ed.]. It is then the second son, Kim Jong-chol, who was poised to be the successor. But in Pyongyang, it was thought that he was not sufficiently ambitious and aggressive. Then, all eyes turned to Kim Jong-un, who has the personality of his father: ambitious, aggressive, and ruthless.

The main question then was how Kim Jong-un would be promoted. Most observers were betting on a gradual process. In this sense, it is not really surprising. He was appointed as a four-star general, which is a mostly symbolic distinction. He was also made vice-president of the Central Military Party. This underscores how strong the military is in North Korea. What surprised me most is that the younger sister of Kim Jong-il was also appointed as a four-star general. In line with the predictions of observers, Kim Jong-il has mobilized his immediate family to create a sort of regency capable of supporting his son in the event of his sudden death.

What is known about Kim Jong-un?

He was probably born in 1983 or 1984. However, the regime may try to say he was born in 1982. In Chinese culture-and also in North Korea-numbers are significant. Kim Il-sung, his grandfather, was born in 1912. Kim Jong-il was born in 1942. That would put Kim Jong-un in a kind of celestial lineage. It is almost certain that he attended school in Switzerland, where he was a quiet student. He had a false name, Pak-un, and one or two close friends. He also liked basketball. He then returned to Pyongyang. Some unconfirmed reports say he studied at a military university. A few years ago, it was said he had been appointed to the office of the Workers Party and the office of National Defense Committee, which is the highest organ of power in North Korea.

Who now heads North Korea? What is the power structure like?

The general view is that Kim Jong-il is the supreme leader-an absolute dictator-and he has tremendous latitude. He bases his legitimacy on the fact that he is the son of the founder of the regime. But nobody can run a country alone. He must therefore take into account various factors. In North Korea in recent decades, the military has played a growing role and seems to occupy a dominant place today.

A university professor based in South Korea believes that the regime in Pyongyang has greatly copied Japanese pre-war fascism, even though Korea fought against imperialism. The scheme is based on a totalitarian structure, relying in particular upon the military. Information is very strictly controlled and the population is monitored, as in East Germany. The structure remains very closed, and the leadership is afraid to open up to the outside world and receive investment or foreign aid. Finally, family occupies an important place. North Korea is part of China's cultural sphere, with a strong presence of Confucianism. The notion of the state is close to the family structure model. The king is seen as the head of the family.

Does a period of transition put the regime in danger? What took place before?

It is inevitable that one day a regime that is so rigid and incapable of transformation will suffer major changes. However, we cannot say when or what form this will take. But it is clear that unusual things can happen during a period of change like this. The last transition was very similar to the current process. The difference is that Kim Jong-il had been clearly designated as the successor by his father and he had decades to gradually gain experience and consolidate his power within the system. Kim Jong-il managed most affairs of state since 1980, when the last Workers Party meeting was held. He was the de facto leader for 14 years. When his father died in 1994, however, he took three years to formally become established as the leader. The difference today is that Kim Jong-il suffered a stroke in 2008. Some people in North Korea are afraid that his son had not had enough time to prepare for power. Kim Jong-un must particularly ensure that the military is loyal to him. That is why he was made a general.

What legacy does he leave his son Kim Jong-un?

Although North Korea has said for decades that it follows the principles of juche or self-sufficiency, it largely sustained itself during the Cold War by trade with the USSR and its satellite states, and China. It received much help. Now that the USSR has collapsed and China has turned to a market economy, the economic situation in North Korea has become untenable. The country suffered a terrible famine in the mid-1990s. Nobody knows for sure how many people died, but it was certainly several hundred thousand. Some say that there were more than one million deaths, out of a total population of 22-23 million people. The government then had to loosen its grip on the system. This has helped the country recover. Today, access to basic resources is much better in North Korea than it was fifteen years ago.

The country was also helped by foreign aid from Japan, South Korea, the United States, and China. Now, because of the crisis over its nuclear program, the only foreign aid that comes into Pyongyang is from China. The North Korean regime faces a dilemma: its only resource is its workers. It fears opening up to accept foreign capital and technology, which would expose the people to outside reports that fundamentally contradict the regime's decades-old claims. That is why the few commercial contacts are with ideologically similar countries, like Syria or Iran. As for the industrial project in Kaesong near the border between North and South, it is very closely monitored by the authorities.

What is the situation at the diplomatic level?

North Korea has no close allies in the world. It cooperates with Cuba, Syria, or Iran, but these countries are isolated. Their relationship is either rhetorical or in connection with the nuclear program. As for its neighbors, North Korea does not like them. The South is seen as an existential threat; it is another Korean state, comprising two-thirds of the Korean nation, and has been a phenomenal success. The situation is different with China. Officially, both countries are driven by an eternal friendship, but this is based primarily on strategic considerations. Nevertheless, China provides a lifeline to North Korea.

Finally, I think in the last two decades, Pyongyang has toyed with the idea of a strategic alliance with the United States to counterbalance Chinese influence. But for domestic political reasons and because of the situation of human rights in North Korea, the Americans have never pushed this idea further. The North Koreans have realized that this strategic relationship was probably a dream.

The fundamental problem behind all of this is due to an accident of history. After the liberation of the peninsula from Japanese occupation in 1945, the division between the Soviets and Americans-for practical reasons-was not intended to be permanent. Today, there are two states, each of which thinks that it best represents the Korean nation and that  it should be in charge of the affairs of the peninsula in its entirety. It is a zero-sum game. All issues about the current succession flow from this.

In the wake of the global financial crisis, some have dubbed China and the United States the G2, signifying their centrality in global economics and politics. Even so, the relationship between China and the United States is rife with new tensions. Trade and currency challenges persist, complicated by domestic politics and differing approaches to security issues.

In its annual conference to honor the memory of eminent China scholar Michel Oksenberg, Stanford's Shorenstein Asia-Pacific Research Center gathered distinguished policymakers and analysts to examine colliding—and overlapping—interests in U.S.-China relations.

The conference was kicked off by Jeffrey Bader, special assistant to the president and senior director for East Asian Affairs at the National Security Council, who began by exploring the possibility of productive, stable relations amid values that appear to differ vastly. In support of this idea, Bader pointed to successive American presidents, going back to Richard Nixon, who found points of commonality with China. China poses a different challenge today, he argued, than even a decade ago, as its influence has grown alongside its commercial and economic presence. The Obama administration, Bader explained, has sought China's support on key issues and pursued partnership within the context of a broader Asian policy. He concluded by saying that China's rise is not intrinsically incompatible with American interest, but that does not preclude ongoing competition.

A panel chaired by Jean C. Oi, director of the Stanford China Program, next looked at competition and cooperation in the U.S.-China economic relationship. Despite the dangers of speculative bubbles and weakened export markets, the prospects for sustained economic growth in China remain very good, argued Nicholas Lardy, senior fellow at the Peterson Institute for International Economics. Robert Kapp, former president of the U.S.-China Business Council, explored growing challenges facing American business in China, exemplified by recent clashes over Internet censorship. Despite the U.S.-China clash at the Copenhagen global climate conference, Stanford Law Professor Thomas Heller contended that behind the scenes global consensus on this issue has advanced.

Points of tension in the security relationship were the focus of a panel chaired by Amb. Michael H. Armacost, the Shorenstein Distinguished Fellow. China-Taiwan tensions have improved, but Smith College's Steve Goldstein cautioned that Taiwan's policies could shift again, particularly if the promised economic benefits of improved ties do not materialize. China and the United States must likewise manage challenging allies in North Korea and Japan respectively, said Alan Romberg, director of the East Asia Program at the Henry L. Stimson Center. Finally, the United States and China have both congruent and conflicting interests at stake in dealing with the situations in Iran and Pakistan, Stanford's Thomas Fingar, the Oksenberg/Rohlen Distinguished Fellow at FSI, told the gathering.