Abdullah's cheeky subjects

THERE are two kinds of Arab sovereign: those who rule from behind a veil of constitutional niceties and those who dispense with the veils. Both are meeting the challenges of the Arab spring better than the region's fallen or beleaguered republican presidents-for-life. Yet the pressure of rising demands from restless subjects is proving harder to resist for those kings who have been nice enough to pretend to democratic leanings.

The rulers of Morocco and Jordan, kingdoms with no oil wealth and close ties to the West, have long seen fit to defend their dynasties by leaving room for mild dissent, letting loyalist parties play politics and ever promising that this game will some day be real. But in both countries repeated feints at reform since their relatively young kings took power a decade ago have not much changed the underlying rules. Muhammad VI of Morocco and Abdullah II of Jordan still hire and fire prime ministers, command national armies and tolerate little criticism of themselves, much in the way of their grandfathers. Morocco's constitution holds the person of the king, also known as Commander of the Faithful, to be sacred and inviolate.

Such relics of divine kingship may soon go the way of Louis XVI's head. Protest movements, not unlike those of Egypt and Tunisia, have surfaced in both countries. Dollops of state largesse, including tax breaks, bigger food subsidies and amnesties for convicts, have so far blunted their impact. But the two kings and their advisers have seen that the demise of nearby presidents was not only swift but cheered by their own subjects and foreign allies alike. So they have separately concluded it may be best to pre-empt their peoples' demands rather than wait for them to grow angry and then fall into the now-classic losing spiral of offering too little, too late.

Morocco's king seems prepared to go furthest fastest. In March he charged a commission with drawing up a new constitution. The text, to be put before a referendum next month, remains under wraps, but carefully promoted leaks suggest it will include some big changes. The king may no longer appoint prime and other ministers, provincial governors and a host of lesser officials. Many of those rights would revert to an elected prime minister, who in turn would answer to a parliament less encumbered by the current nannying rules of procedure. In short, Morocco's 300-year-old Alawite dynasty may start to look a bit more like the popular Bourbons, still reigning across the straits in Spain.

King Abdullah's reforms look more modest by comparison. In February he sacked an unpopular prime minister and, rather than crush street protests, magnanimously relaxed laws restricting public gatherings. In March he created a 52-person body for national dialogue, and told it to draft new electoral laws. Just when elections might happen, he is not saying. But he has said he wants the new law to promote stronger party affiliation, and has hinted heavily that future prime ministers would have to represent parliamentary majorities, not just the king's choice.

Such moves do not go far enough to meet the demands of true democrats in either kingdom. Moroccan protesters have taken to the streets, insisting that changes be more profound. A website that lets visitors vote on whether to keep or abolish parts of the old constitution has attracted 100,000 responses; their wishes reveal a bigger appetite for reform than seems to be on offer. A narrow majority wants the king to retain the title Commander of the Faithful, and to lead the army. Fat majorities say he should lose most political powers and his person no longer be deemed “sacred”.

Morocco's referendum is likely to pass, reflecting lingering deference to the ruler, and Jordan's king will probably keep his crown for some time. But their people have shown they are tired of tricks designed to retain the status quo. Other Arab kings will watch—and perhaps learn.