Not everyone is persuaded by the brave new vibe emanating from Riyadh’s palaces since King Salman came to the throne. In the first in a series on Saudi Arabia, we look at the relationship between its rulers and its people

On the hoardings that line the highways between Riyadh’s glittering towers, an elderly man looks down, half sternly, half benignly. To the right of King Salman bin Abdulaziz is his nephew, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Nayef – middle-aged and bespectacled. To the monarch’s left sits his favourite son, Mohammed bin Salman, the youthful deputy crown prince. “We pledge allegiance to our wise leadership,” declares the Arabic slogan under the portrait. All three men are wearing traditional ghoutra headdresses and flowing robes.

It is a standard declaration of public loyalty to the Saudi royal family as it marks the end of a turbulent year since King Salman came to the throne. Significant change has come to the kingdom, its neighbourhood and the wider Middle East. Collapsing oil prices, war in Yemen, the US tilt towards Iran, sectarian tensions and the rampaging jihadis of Islamic State have all left their mark. “Saudi Arabia is more assertive, less predictable, and probably more nervous than it was,” says a Riyadh-based diplomat. “We are seeing surprising moves.”



Facebook Twitter Pinterest The French president, François Hollande, right, welcomes the Saudi defence minister, Prince Mohammed bin Salman, at the Elysée Palace in Paris in June. Photograph: Alain Jocard/AFP/Getty Images

Salman, now 80, will be the last of the sons of King Abdulaziz Ibn Saud, the founder of the country that bears his family’s name, to use the title Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques – a reference to Mecca and Medina. The choice of Bin Nayef as crown prince last spring means that power will finally pass to the next generation.

But in recent months it is Bin Salman – defence minister as well as economic supremo – who has been making headlines: leading the Yemen campaign and initiating reforms to cope with a ballooning budget deficit and the end of the oil age and, some suggest, the autocratic rentier state it sustained.

The 30-year old is as tall as his revered grandfather, but chubbier; when their images were morphed together they went viral on social media. He is attracting enthusiasm at home and attention abroad. Born in 1985, he is close to the median age in Saudi Arabia. “He actually knows what PlayStation is,” says a middle-aged admirer, with a laugh, and who, like many interviewed, does not wish to be named.

Efficiency, innovation and independence are the watchwords of a carefully managed public relations campaign that slips easily into sycophancy in Saudi media coverage. “People who are normally very critical are all singing the same song,” says a veteran foreign observer. Still, not everyone is convinced. “Yes, he is smart, but he has too much power and not enough experience, and that worries people,” says a female Saudi academic.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest A Saudi woman attends a book fair in the Red Sea city of Jeddah. Photograph: AFP/Getty Images

And transparency is still in short supply. Gossip about the monarchy is amplified by Twitter, used by more Saudis per capita than any other people in the world. Rumours and allegations about excesses, corruption and infighting, mostly made anonymously, are impossible to verify, though Riyadh’s chattering classes have heard them all. “There are certainly princes who are afraid of Bin Salman’s power,” says the diplomat. “They are distancing themselves so he will get the blame if things go wrong.”

Resentment at royal wealth and privilege is easy enough to observe even in casual conversation – for example about the high price of land being bought up from princes to build the Riyadh metro, a huge infrastructure project that disrupts traffic and gridlocks the centre of the sprawling capital. “The Al Saud are the best of the worst,” says a middle-aged government employee. “There are 40,000 of them. But without them it would be like Yemen here.” The vicious war next door, launched last March, is widely seen as a matter of self-defence, though there is unease about its enormous cost and duration.

Conventional wisdom is that the ruling family will never fall on its sword because the history of the Al Saud and their rivals, riven by conflict, has driven home the lesson that internecine strife must be avoided. “It is normal in all families to have disagreements,” argues Talal Rizk, a banker. “It’s the same with the Al Saud but you can see that they respect each other.”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest France’s prime minister, Manuel Valls, left, speaks with Crown Prince Mohammed bin Nayef as he arrives in the Saudi capital, Riyadh, in October. Photograph: Kenzo Tribouillard/AFP/Getty Images

Bin Nayef, 56 – “the man who holds the country together” in the colloquial Arabic expression – remains popular, not least because he defeated al-Qaida when Osama bin Laden’s followers were at their most dangerous a decade ago. Western governments, anxious to maintain counter-terrorist cooperation, like him too.

But his young deputy is stealing his thunder – spectacularly. Saudis speculate quietly that King Salman may eventually abdicate in favour of his son and bypass Bin Nayef, who has no sons of his own. The precedent was established last year when the king removed his half-brother Prince Muqrin and appointed Bin Nayef crown prince. It is a grand title, but clearly no longer a job for life.

Saudis scorn foreigners who are fascinated by the machinations of their secretive rulers. “You love this stuff in the west, it’s like the Thousand and One Nights and Game of Thrones,” says a young intellectual, with a laugh. But most believe that self-interest will keep the family together. And predictions of the kingdom’s demise – through internal strife, crisis or bankruptcy – have been around since its foundation in 1932. So far the doom-mongers, including wishful-thinking opponents of the monarchy, have been proved wrong.

Not everyone is persuaded by the brave new vibe emanating from Riyadh’s palaces. Repression is said to have increased in the last year, though no figures are available. Critics are reluctant to speak out. And the palpable sense of excitement is qualified by awareness of the limits of change. “This country is at a turning point,” says Mohammed al-Zulfa, a historian and former member of the Majlis al-Shura (consultative council). “We have a new generation that expects a lot from the government. The government wants to meet the needs of the people – but there is still resistance from the religious establishment.”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Men sitting outside a coffee shop in the Atturaif district on the outskirts of Riyadh, which is part of a major development project shepherded by King Salman. Photograph: Fayez Nureldine/AFP/Getty Images

Salman’s predecessor Abdullah, promoted the advancement of women and higher education, confronted powerful ulema (religious scholars), and tested the foundational bargain struck with them by his father, Ibn Saud. But the present king, who was governor of Riyadh for decades, has always been close to the clergy. And there is more at stake than the absence of cinemas and other leisure opportunities that drive hordes of Saudis to spent their weekends in Dubai or Bahrain where they can relax, drink alcohol and live less austerely. Bin Salman’s ambitions for developing tourism on the pristine Red Sea coast are unlikely to go down well either.

“Religious opposition to reform helped create Daesh [Islamic State],” Mazen Sudairi, a businessman, says bluntly. Ahmed al-Issa, the education minister – who has written a book criticising school curriculums - is credited with an effort to loosen the grip of ultra-conservative Wahhabis. Still, one of Salman’s first acts was to replace Abdullah’s choice to head the body that runs the religious police – known as the Haya – with a more hardline figure. Displays of “over-zealous conduct” have been dealt with, said Prince Turki al-Faisal, a senior royal and former intelligence chief. “But no Saudi ruler will ever abandon or disband the Haya,” he insisted. “It is an essential part and parcel of sharia law.”

Nor do signs of change extend to capital punishment. Salman’s first year on the throne saw a record number of executions – including recently of 43 convicted al-Qaida terrorists and the dissident Shia cleric Nimr al-Nimr, who was portrayed by the government as a violent and sectarian subversive. These judicial killings were widely supported as necessary to deter Isis and Iran – seen as the kingdom’s most dangerous enemies.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Bahraini protesters hold placards bearing portraits of prominent Shia cleric Nimr al-Nimr during protests against his execution by Saudi authorities. Photograph: Mohammed Al-Shaikh/AFP/Getty Images

Saudis often complain that their country is misunderstood and misrepresented by the international media. But there is a realisation in some quarters that improving understanding needs more than slick PR. Its appalling reputation for human rights abuses has been reinforced by the cases of the free-thinking blogger, Raif Badawi, sentenced to be flogged, and the Palestinian poet Ashraf Fayadh, who is facing death for the crime of “apostasy”. Friends believe he is being punished for posting a video online showing the religious police in Abha lashing a man in public.

Liberals are dismayed. “It’s so damaging, and for nothing,” sighs one. Yet few blame King Salman or “the two Mohammeds”, or question their “wise leadership”. Instead, they point the finger at intolerant judges seeking to advertise the rigours of sharia law. “Badawi is a bone thrown by our government to appease the conservatives,” says a Jeddah businessman who insists on anonymity to spell out this sensitive point publicly. “Extremists they kill.”

• This article was amended on 22 January 2016. An earlier version quoted from a different poster in Riyadh, with the Arabic slogan “We pledge to listen and to obey”, and suggested that this was a message from Saudi Arabia’s royal family. In fact it was meant to be understood as a message to the royal family.