At every step toward democratization in the Middle East and Central Asia, skeptics have claimed that the imperfections of the process, the factious contentions among the population, and the narrowness of the democratic victories portend the inevitable failure of the entire enterprise. The nascent Iraqi republic, for example, has endured Sunni boycotts, fiercely competing regional cabals (based largely on religion) and all of the ills and burdens associated with democratic governance the world over. Now, in the wake of a new Iraqi constitution, as well as elections in Afghanistan, Pakistan and Lebanon, perhaps a moment of self-reflection should temper the next volley of doomsday predictions.

It would constitute a massive distortion of history to claim that the obstacles presently suffered in the Middle East must necessarily foreshadow the futility of the democratic movement at hand. Such cynicism is particularly unfounded if the condemnation of Middle Eastern fortunes is based upon a claim that those people do not benefit from the favorable winds which ushered in America’s constitutional democracy. The U.S. Constitution was an object of deep mistrust, charged with scandalous power-mongering and proving an extraordinarily hard sell at the time of its eventual adoption. Were a foreign viewer to witness the debacle of American democratization and constitution-building during the late 18th century, surely our fate would have seemed no less imperiled and worthy of derision than the efforts now underway in the Middle East.

At the outset, it should be recalled that the first American “Constitution” failed. The political regime established under the Articles of Confederation in 1777 collapsed after a mere decade. Richard Henry Lee had proposed a plan by which to harness the colonies into a union at independence in 1776. Following more than a year of arguments, Congress finally adopted the Articles of Confederation (though the states did not ratify the Articles until 1781). The colonies thus became, “The United States in Congress Assembled.”

Yet by 1787, following a failed attempt at Annapolis to revise a single provision of the widely unpopular Articles (delegates of only five of the thirteen states even bothered to promptly attend), Congress endorsed a plan to revise vast swaths of the charter. A convention was planned for Philadelphia. The state delegates in attendance (one state refused to attend) quickly transgressed the scope of their authority, discarding the Articles altogether and proposing an altogether novel constitution.

America exploded into controversy -- one might have called it a quagmire -- in which the present system was proven to suffer from severe deficiencies while the proposed solution threatened a cure worse than the disease. Factions arose and launched charges ranging from erudite political caveats to vitriolic personal assailments. The Federalists and Anti-Federalists, as well as viciously partisan papers, proliferated reams of highly charged literature. “If you read the Aurora,” lamented George Washington, referencing an Anti-Federalist sympathizing newspaper, “you cannot but have perceived with what malignant industry and persevering falsehoods I am assailed in order to weaken, if not destroy, the confidence of the Public.” Some historians have dubbed the ratification period as, “the dark ages of journalism.”

To add controversy, the consent of only nine of the thirteen states was necessary in order to bind all of them under the new constitutional order. Yet a mere five states initially ratified the Constitution. The next vote, in Massachusetts, encountered fierce contest and did not seem to bode well for the Federalists and their hopes for a revolutionary governing charter. Only after Samuel Adams and John Hancock, leading Anti-federalists, secured promises that the document would be subject to immediate amending following ratification, did the convention narrowly approve the Constitution (by a vote of 187-168). Following the Massachusetts compromise, five additional states were willing to accept the proffered Constitution -- on condition of its prompt alteration after ratification. In fact, with the sole exception of Maryland, these latter state conventions actually recommended amendments in conjunction with their ratifying votes.

By this time, eleven states had ratified the Constitution. The North Carolina convention had adjourned, refusing to vote on the Constitution. Rhode Island didn’t even bother to elect a ratifying convention, but rather submitted the Constitution to town meetings in which it soundly failed to achieve ratification (due, in part, to a boycott on the part of most Federalists).

And yet, this second attempt at constitution building, initially supported by a clear minority of five states, outright rejected by two states, subject to boycotts, adopted only upon the condition of immediate revision, preceded by oft-vitriolic denunciations and succeeded by myriad doubts and misgivings, has endured two-centuries as the revered centerpiece of the oldest and most stable democracy in the world.

Of course, the 21st century Middle East is not 18th century America. In many respect, the former may encounter trials altogether dissimilar to those which confronted our forefathers. Yet even in this assumption, one must take care not to overestimate the distinctions.

For those who claim that democracy cannot be propelled through outside influence (particularly militaristic), it should be recalled that America did not fight the good fight against His Majesty’s armies alone. Particularly France, but also Spain and the Netherlands joined in the war against England -- and all for less altruistic reasons than a desire to secure America’s sacred liberty. The peace process which would eventually conclude the American Revolution included France as a principal participant -- indeed, the negotiations were held in Paris. And these negotiations could not be finalized until Spain, France and England concluded their own, separate treaty arrangements.

Further, America was hardly free from the threat of violence and insurrection from within her own borders. As Shays’ Rebellion revealed in 1786, when farmers in western Massachusetts conducted an armed uprising against the state government, domestic violence had the potential to defeat the legitimate government. During the Revolutionary War, southern militias refused to accept and arm black soldiers for fear of a massive slave revolt, and approximately 13,000 Native Americans took up arms against the United States. (And let us not forget the smallpox epidemic which killed over 130,000 people in North America during the American drive toward democracy.) Fear of insurrection greatly motivated the movement to revise the inherent weaknesses of the Articles of Confederation -- in favor of an equally dreaded, powerfully centralized, national government. The specter of continued insurrection, as well as the unknown perils of the emerging political landscape, loomed large and grave before the bewildered colonial patriots of early America.

It is often asserted that the Middle East is not ready to shoulder the great task of democracy, whereas America gradually acceded to the responsibilities of self-rule. Granted, while Iraq, for example, has purportedly enjoyed the status of a republic since 1932, a series of warlord-like dictators have effectively quelled the blossoming of democratic habits and institutions. However, as recent elections reveal, the Iraqi people have not been slow to decipher the mechanics of popular sovereignty. The Sunni majority initially attempted to boycott the provisional parliamentary elections -- yet their failure to cripple and halt the democratic progress cost them dearly in terms of representation and, thus, political influence. The Sunnis learned quickly and made a substantial showing in the constitution referendum (a vote which split Sunnis in different regions, implying a desire to simply assert themselves into the political equation, regardless of their political objectives). Several political parties have already established their pre-eminence, and organized voter drives are well underway (voter turnout for constitutional ratification exceeded 60% by most accounts, and neared 80% in some regions). Amidst the posturing, grandstanding and exorbitant claims promised by would-be Iraqi politicians, Americans might call it politics as usual.

Finally, religion is often invoked as an insurmountable barrier to Iraqi democratization. Alternately, this objection appears in the context of distinguishing Middle Eastern Islam from Western Christianity, on the one hand, and Western Secularism on the other. Should one recognize America as a de facto Christian nation, and dismiss the fascinatingly widespread fallacy which holds the American Founders as irreligious sectarians, then one must defend the unlikely thesis that the Church which oversaw an empire and nearly two-thousand years of monarchs was somehow inherently compatible with democracy, whereas Islam lacks the capacity to so adapt. Conversely, secularists must surely acknowledge that democratic institutions are the only means by which to educate the Iraqi population as to alternatives to religious obedience. Only by integrating political mechanisms into the Iraqi spectrum of ideas may the realms of religion and politics be parsed, and the impeding influence of charismatic religious leaders be moderated and confined. As evidence of the capacity to harmonize religion and democracy, consider that the Iraqi constitution, which begins with the words, “In the name of God, the most merciful, the most compassionate,” only moments later reads, “This Constitution guarantees … the full religious rights of all individuals to freedom of religious belief and practice….”

But again, the Middle East is not America. The peoples of Mesopotamia and the Central Asian plateau unquestionably contemplate dilemmas and conditions unprecedented in the world theater of democratic nations. The Iraqis could fail to honor the lofty sentiments of their new-born constitution, and the wider Middle East could neglect to treasure and safeguard their burgeoning democratic liberties. The lessons of America and her turbulent history may not prove relevant or sanguine when supplanted into the Middle Eastern context. But I believe that human nature is not so whimsically subject to time and place, but rather finds a common and steady star by which it is steered. Faced with the oppression of an unbending tyrant, men will struggle and endure in pursuit of their liberation and deliverance -- accepting the inducements and aid of many, but eventually willing and hungry to stand on their own. Men can be cowed, but they are a noble breed, and possess the inherent courage and conviction to follow Providence and prosperity wherever it may lead. The people of the Middle East have suffered grievous losses, and yet they poured into voter booths under the threat of lethal retaliation -- this was the resolve and character of our Founding generation, and the reason I maintain hope in the future of democracy in the Middle East.

Justin Paulette has an MA in U.S. Studies from the University of London's School of Advanced Study and a law degree from The Catholic University of America.  He practices law in Washington, D.C.

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