Saudi Arabia’s Shura Council: A Century of Historic Governance

The view of Saudi Shura Council in session.
The view of Saudi Shura Council in session.
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Saudi Arabia’s Shura Council: A Century of Historic Governance

The view of Saudi Shura Council in session.
The view of Saudi Shura Council in session.

Since the early days of modern Saudi Arabia, King Abdulaziz established key principles, including the use of Shura (consultative) councils as a crucial aspect of his wise governance.

Under his rule, the Shura Council was formed, representing a significant move towards institutionalizing governance practices.

This marked the beginning of a constitutional framework for the developing state.

The constitutional movement began in February 1925 with the first National Council being founded under the speakership of Sheikh Abdul Gadir Al-Shebi.

That council continued for six months until a reshuffle that saw Sheikh Mohammed Al-Marzouki Abou Hussein act as speaker and Shebi as his deputy. The council boasted 15 members and Mohammed Suroor Al-Sabban acted as its secretary.

On August 5, 1925, King Abdulaziz inaugurated the council’s session at its Makkah headquarters.

He delivered the first royal address in two parts: a brief impromptu speech with his directives, and an extended official statement presented by Counselor Hafez Wahba.

This tradition continues to this day, with members considering the royal address as the council’s “work program.”

They formed committees to review and discuss the addressed topics, presenting the results to the king after council approval.

First step

On May 13, 1926, an official announcement was made for the election of consultative councils, including the Shura Council.

A royal decree was issued on May 23, 1926, appointing Sharif Mohammed Sharaf Basha bin Adnan Al-Ghalib as speaker.

The first constitutional document, published later, outlined the creation of the Council.

Formed under the deputyship of the King in the Hijaz in September 1926, with Sheikh Abdulaziz bin Mohammed Al-Otaiqi as the deputy, three councils represented the starting point for Shura development.

They marked an experimental phase for the model upon which the Saudi institutional state is built, including the systems and formation methods of these councils.

On July 8, 1927, in response to recommendations from the Inspection and Reform Committee, the King agreed to a new system for the council.

He replaced its members and reorganized it with his advisor Sharif Mohammed Sharaf Adnan leading the sessions.

Evolution of the Council

This marked the beginning of the Shura Council in its long-standing form.

In the second session, King Abdulaziz saw the need to improve its system. The initial system had 14 articles.

The Council’s new internal rules were issued, consisting of 24 articles. This system remained in place for almost 65 years, during which the council carried out its functions.

After the creation of the Council of Ministers in 1952, which limited the Shura Council's powers, there was a need to update its system to match the changes in various state authorities.

The Council made its first attempt in 1953, preparing a proposal for the development of its system and internal rules, which was submitted for review.

Committees were formed, and in 1962, a committee led by Prince Mishaal bin Abdul Rahman worked on drafting the basic governance system.

In 1980, another committee led by Prince Nayef bin Abdulaziz resulted in the creation of the “Shura Council System.”

5,963 meetings in 54 years

Despite a delay in updating the system for about 40 years, the Council’s experience during that period is still remembered in political and administrative circles, with its impact documented in government archives.

According to Saudi Shura historian Dr. Abdulrahman bin Ali Al-Zahrani, the Council held 51 sessions, between 1927 and 1980, conducting a total of 5,963 meetings and issuing 8,583 decisions, including various regulations and instructions.

During this time, the Council boasted 85 members, with each session attended between six and 25 members.

Sheikh Ahmed bin Ibrahim Al-Ghazawi held the longest tenure at 51 years, starting as a secretary and eventually becoming the permanent deputy speaker. Sheikh Mohammed Al-Tayyib Al-Hazazi had the shortest membership, lasting only one month.

Membership extensions were common at the time, with an average tenure of 10-and-a-half years per member.

King Faisal at the helm

King Faisal served as the president of the Council from 1927 until his passing in 1975.

Afterward, the Council remained linked to the monarchy, with the vice president managing its affairs.

It wasn't until 1992, with the royal decree appointing Sheikh Mohammed bin Ibrahim bin Jubair as speaker, that new leadership emerged.

Jubair had been a member of committees studying the Council’s system development since 1962.

The role of vice president was held by individuals like Sheikh Abdullah bin Mohammed Al-Fadl, Saleh Shata, Sheikh Abdullah Al-Shebi, Sharif Mohammed Sharaf Rida, Sheikh Ahmed Al-Ghazawi, and Saadik Dahlan.

The role of Secretary-General saw seven individuals taking charge, including Sheikh Ahmed Al-Ghazawi, Hamza Al-Marzouki Abu Hussein, Fuad Ali Rida, Saadik Dahlan, Alawi Al-Idroos, Mohammed Saeed Jawharji, and Abdel Razak Al-Tayeb.

The last session of the Council during its 51st term took place on September 27, 1980.

From Makkah to Riyadh

But interestingly, after that point, the council didn't stop its work. It continued to function as an entity with its own budget, staff, and headquarters in Makkah’s Shisha neighborhood.

The General Secretariat and administrative operations were based there, and extensions were given to remaining members.

After the death of the Council’s deputy speaker, Sheikh Ahmed Al-Ghazawi, a Royal Decree (No. 2931) was issued on July 14, 1981, appointing Dahlan to replace him.

Dahlan continued in this role until 1992 when the Council’s offices moved to Riyadh.

The Council even had a summer headquarters in Taif.

King Abdulaziz inaugurated the third session and delivered the royal address in Taif on July 27, 1930.

Other key figures also delivered royal addresses in the absence of the King.

These foundations set by King Abdulaziz during a crucial period in the Kingdom’s early years illustrate his dedication to establishing the state’s structure.

Despite focusing on unification wars and ensuring security, he prioritized stabilizing the state's foundations. His successors continued and refined these practices.



Gemayel to Asharq Al-Awsat: Khaddam was Assad’s Stick to Apply Pressure

Relations between Gemayel and Khaddam were highly tense (Getty)
Relations between Gemayel and Khaddam were highly tense (Getty)
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Gemayel to Asharq Al-Awsat: Khaddam was Assad’s Stick to Apply Pressure

Relations between Gemayel and Khaddam were highly tense (Getty)
Relations between Gemayel and Khaddam were highly tense (Getty)

Late Syrian President Hafez al-Assad was a masterful negotiator, fiercely protective of his image and reputation. He was known for exhausting his guests with lengthy detours into history before addressing the substance of any talks.

Assad had an exceptional ability to restrain his anger, circling around an issue before striking again — often with calculated patience.

He avoided coarse language, allowing resentments to speak for themselves, but he never forgave those he believed had tried to derail his vision. Among them, according to accounts, were Yasser Arafat, Kamal Jumblatt, Bashir Gemayel, Amine Gemayel, and Samir Geagea.

In dealing with rivals and pressuring opponents, Assad often relied on a trusted enforcer: Abdel Halim Khaddam, his long-time foreign minister and later vice president. In the second part of his interview with Asharq Al-Awsat, former Lebanese President Amine Gemayel said Khaddam was Assad’s “stick,” used to assert control.

Many Lebanese politicians believed Khaddam’s bluntness was not personal, but rather a reflection of an official mandate from his mentor.

Assad rarely issued direct threats. Instead, he preferred subtle intimidation — as when he told Gemayel that his aides had once suggested blowing up President Anwar Sadat’s plane to prevent him from reaching Jerusalem.

Khaddam, the late Syrian strongman’s long-serving envoy, was known for humiliating both allies and foes who dared defy Damascus’ directives. His tactics were often unsettling — deliberately designed to leave visitors unnerved and pliant by the time they reached Assad’s office.

In a conversation in Paris during his retirement, Khaddam defended his hardline methods, saying they were not meant to insult but to prevent potentially dangerous confrontations. “The aim was to avoid escalation that could lead to security agencies taking over, which might have resulted in worse outcomes,” he said.

In the same meeting, Khaddam accused former Lebanese President Amine Gemayel of obstructing a political solution in Lebanon, calling him “hesitant and suspicious.”

He also acknowledged Assad was caught off guard when the Tripartite Agreement collapsed. The Syrian leader, Khaddam said, had not believed anyone in Lebanon would openly defy Syria — or the other Lebanese factions who had signed the accord.

“President Assad had many cards to play. President Sarkis had none,” recalled former Lebanese Foreign Minister Fouad Boutros, reflecting on the stark imbalance between Syria and Lebanon during Elias Sarkis’s presidency.

Assad, he said, had the power to topple or paralyze the Lebanese government before Sarkis even returned to Beirut. “Sarkis had no leverage over Assad,” Boutros noted. “But while Sarkis often showed flexibility, he would stand firm when asked to compromise Lebanon’s core principles.”

Boutros, who played a key role in Lebanon’s diplomacy during the civil war, said he had to exercise utmost restraint to keep Khaddam — Syria’s often abrasive envoy — from derailing talks with personal attacks or inflammatory language.

The dynamic, he suggested, was not unique to Sarkis. It also echoed the later, uneasy relationship between Gemayel and Assad.

Gemayel recalled a cold and confrontational relationship with Khaddam, describing him as “the stick and the poison” used by Assad to pressure Beirut into submission.

“There was no warmth between us from the beginning,” Gemayel told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“Khaddam used underhanded tactics to undermine the presidency and sow division within my team. While President Assad treated me with respect and politeness, he needed someone to apply pressure — and that was Khaddam,” he added.

Gemayel said Khaddam was behind all the pressure campaigns Syria waged against him — all with Assad’s full knowledge. “Assad played the courteous statesman. Khaddam handled the dirty work. Syria wanted me to sign agreements harmful to Lebanon’s interests, and Khaddam was the one tasked with forcing my hand.”

Despite Khaddam’s harsh demeanor, Gemayel said he never allowed him to overstep.

“I kept him in check. He didn’t dare cross the line with me. We were once in a meeting with President Assad, and Khaddam had been spreading ridiculous rumors beforehand. When he spoke up, I turned to Assad and said: ‘Mr. President, we have a problem with Khaddam. Please ask him to stop acting like a spy when dealing with us.’”

Khaddam, Gemayel said, tried to intimidate many Lebanese politicians — but not him.

“He was rude, even insolent to the point of absurdity. But he knew that if he said anything out of line with me, I would respond immediately.”

Assad’s Subtle Control and the Language of Minorities

Assad understood early on the fragility of Lebanon’s sectarian makeup. To him, the country was a meeting place for minorities — one that always needed an external patron to manage its wars and truces. He allowed for limited victories, but never total defeat, ensuring that no side could do without Syria’s oversight.

Assad sought to rule Syria indefinitely, with Lebanon as a backyard extension of his regime. Yet unlike his brother Rifaat, he avoided openly sectarian rhetoric or calls for partition. Rifaat, according to Gemayel, once suggested dividing both Syria and Lebanon along sectarian lines during a conversation with Lebanese leaders Walid Jumblatt and Marwan Hamadeh.

When asked whether he ever felt his dialogue with Assad was, at its core, a conversation between an Alawite and a Maronite, Gemayel replied: “No — that was Rifaat’s language. He used to say minorities must come together and show solidarity. But that narrative was never pushed by President Assad or his inner circle. It was always tailored to serve their own agenda.”

Assad’s political strategy was built on gathering leverage — and minority groups were central to that plan. His ties with Lebanon’s Druze community, and his clash with Druze leader Kamal Jumblatt, fit squarely within this framework. Assad relied on Syria’s own Druze population, as well as the Christian minority, to tighten his grip on the country’s diverse communities and align them under the banner of his regime.

“Assad had a firm hold on the minorities,” Gemayel said, adding that “he brought them all together to make them part of the Syrian system.”

Tensions between Syria’s Alawite leadership and the country’s Sunni majority were well known, Gemayel added, particularly through the candid rhetoric of Assad’s brother, Rifaat.

“Rifaat was open about the hostility between Alawites and Sunnis,” Gemayel said. “In his conversations with us, it was clear. But with President Assad, there was no visible sign of that. What lay beneath the surface, only God knows — but in our dealings with him, we never felt it.”

Gemayel Dismisses Reports of a Syria-Lebanon Confederation Proposal

Asked about longstanding claims that former Lebanese President Camille Chamoun had once proposed a confederation between Lebanon and Syria to Hafez al-Assad, Gemayel was quick to reject the idea.

“That’s absolutely not true,” he said. “President Chamoun would never have made such a proposal. A lot of things were said at the time. There were even reports that US envoy Dean Brown had suggested relocating Lebanon’s Christians to California — all of it nonsense, poetic talk with no grounding in reality.”

Gemayel also addressed one of the most controversial moments in US diplomacy during Lebanon’s 1988 presidential crisis: the phrase reportedly used by US envoy Richard Murphy — “Mikhael Daher or chaos.”

Daher, a Christian MP close to Damascus, had been floated as the only candidate acceptable to both Syria and the United States.

But Washington later distanced itself from the deal. The episode, Gemayel said, underscored a period in which American pressure aligned more with Syrian — and by extension, Israeli — interests, leaving Lebanon’s sovereignty hanging in the balance.

Gemayel confirmed that US envoy Richard Murphy did indeed issue the stark ultimatum in 1988. The phrase, which became emblematic of foreign interference in Lebanon’s presidential crisis, reflected what Gemayel described as Washington’s unwillingness to confront Damascus — despite acknowledging its destabilizing role in Lebanon.

“Yes, Murphy said it,” Gemayel affirmed to Asharq Al-Awsat.

“The Americans had a problem — they wanted Syria, and they didn’t. They knew Syria was playing a destructive role in Lebanon, but they didn’t want to challenge it. They kept trying to find common ground with Syria, not with us.”

According to Gemayel, the US saw Daher — a respected Christian parliamentarian close to Damascus — as a palatable compromise. “They thought Daher was a respectable figure who might be acceptable to the Lebanese, so they went along with Syria’s choice,” he said.

Washington, he added, had consistently prioritized pragmatism over principle in Lebanon, often aligning with whichever side could deliver results — even if it came at Beirut’s expense.

“It was the same with the May 17 Agreement with Israel,” Gemayel said, referring to the short-lived 1983 accord.

“The US couldn't pressure Israel, so Lebanon had to pay. And they couldn’t pressure Syria either — Syria was stubborn, had resources, and they didn’t want a confrontation. So they kept trying to sell us solutions that weren’t in Lebanon’s interest.”

“The Americans were always looking for the quickest deal,” he added. “They wanted to please both Syria and Israel. With Syria, it was clear — they didn’t want to upset Assad, because they knew who held the real power in Lebanon.”

Gemayel said that while he personally held the reins in decision-making and negotiations with Syria during his time in office, several close advisers and intermediaries played essential roles in laying the groundwork for dialogue with Damascus.

“The relationship and final decisions were in my hands,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“I was the one doing the actual negotiating. But when it came to preparation, the late Jean Obeid played a very valuable role. He was intelligent, committed to Lebanon’s interests, and had close ties with the Syrians. He couldn’t get everything done, but he managed to ease certain issues,” said Gemayel.

Gemayel also credited Eli Salem, another aide, for navigating delicate talks with Syrian officials — particularly with Khaddam.

“Salem had a knack for getting through on specific points,” Gemayel said. “He had good chemistry with Khaddam, and that helped, especially since Khaddam and I didn’t get along.”

One figure who unexpectedly played a constructive role, according to Gemayel, was Brigadier General Jamil al-Sayyed, then an intelligence officer stationed in Lebanon’s eastern Bekaa Valley.

“You may be surprised,” he said, “but Jamil al-Sayyed was very helpful. Whenever I was heading to Damascus, I would stop in the Bekaa to meet him. He gave me very precise insights into what was happening at the Syrian presidential palace and the broader picture in Damascus. He was well-informed, sincere, and provided intelligence that wasn’t widely available — information that truly benefited Lebanon.”

Asked whether Syria was uneasy about the role of veteran journalist and diplomat Ghassan Tueni in his administration, Gemayel said the Syrians had little affection for him.

“There was never any warmth toward Ghassan,” he said. “He came with me to Syria just once, and it was clear there was tension. Whenever he was present, things got heated. Ghassan and Khaddam were like a ping-pong match — constantly hitting the ball back and forth.”

The friction, Gemayel explained, stemmed in large part from Tueni’s association with An-Nahar, the Beirut daily he helped lead, which often published sharp criticism of Syria.

“Syria never appreciated An-Nahar,” Gemayel said. “Even if Ghassan tried to distance himself from specific articles, the content was out there for everyone to see — and the Syrians didn’t forget it.”