The man that many see as being responsible for the murder of Jamal Khashoggi—including the CIA—lacks for almost nothing. With near absolute power, mind-boggling wealth, and a bold and imaginative vision for the future of Saudi Arabia, there’s little that stands in the way of Muhammed Bin Salmin (otherwise known as MBS). The Crown Prince can do what he wants, when he wants—and for the most part, he has.
He lifted the ban on women driving. He purchased a $500 million yacht and a $300 million French chateau. He orchestrated plans—now underway—to build a futuristic city imbued with AI that will make some sci-fi movies seem quaint.
While women driving is a ground-breaking event, other actions of MBS are outright alarming. Case in point is the murder of Jamal Khashoggi. In the fall of 2018, the Washington Post journalist—frequently described as a polite, mild-mannered personality—was assassinated inside the Saudi consulate in Istanbul. He was subsequently dismembered (and possibly cremated).
What grave crime had he committed? Nothing, it seems, other than his history of leveling criticisms about the leadership of the Crown Prince. But in the world of MBS, the slightest dissent can mean death.
This is the unsettling story that unfolds in The Dissident, a gripping documentary directed by Bryan Fogel. If you were to watch the opening scene without knowing the film’s subject matter, you might think you’re about to partake in a new Jason Bourne movie or some other high-octane thriller. There’s tense music, shots of a metropolis on a dreary day, and a young man who’s just received a text message alerting him there’s a team out to kill him.
It certainly feels like the makings of a blockbuster. But the story that unfolds in the next hour and a half is anything but fiction.
Indeed, the young man isn’t Jason Bourne, but someone named Omar Abdulaziz Al-Zahra. The location is Montreal. Omar is an outspoken vlogger in his twenties who’s fled Saudi Arabia. He’s been too vocal about MBS on social media; if he were to go back home, he’d likely be killed. He could also be killed in his new home of Montreal, as the reenacted scene (played by Omar himself) makes clear.
Despite being some three decades Khashoggi’s junior, it was the seasoned journalist who reached out to Omar: “I just wanna be in touch with young activists like you.”
This kind of interaction was apparently inline with Kashoggi’s personality. He was deeply passionate about discussing Saudi Arabia. And though he penned criticisms of MBS’ leadership and policies, he also acknowledged things he liked about the Crown Prince. But with a figure like MBS, sometimes any criticism at all is too much.
During the period covered in the film, Khashoggi was lonely. Thrice divorced and heading into his sixth decade, he longed for companionship. The emotional pangs were exacerbated after he went into self-imposed exile and was without his usual social circle.
But in a young Turkish Ph.D. student named Hatice Cengiz, Khashoggi found the connection he was after. And so did she. As their relationship progressed, they decided to marry. The only thing left to do was for Khashoggi to pick up a document (proving he was divorced). He’d been to the Saudi Arabian embassy in Turkey at the end of September, making his request. The day he came to pick up the papers—October 2, 2018—was his last.
Though Khashoggi’s death made headlines around the world for many weeks, and his story is well known, it’s jarring to see some of the footage used in the film. In one scene, investigators shine a flashlight into some sort of cooking pit at the consulate general’s house. We’re told that seventy pounds of meat was bought from a restaurant the night of Khashoggi’s death. Why so much? One investigator puts it bluntly: “We think that this order of meat was used to mask the smell of a burning corpse.”
Is this the cost of advocating for free speech in a country that doesn’t have it? It was for Khashoggi, and his story is obviously harrowing.
At the time of Kashoggi’s death, MBS was just 33 years old. Barring unforeseen events, this is a man who could be in power for the next fifty years. Will he mature with time, or will he become even more impulsive, even more maniacal?
A year prior to the murder of Khashoggi, the Crown Prince locked up hundreds of Saudi royalty and business magnates in the Ritz-Carlton. It was a crackdown on corruption, ostensibly. It was also an extraordinary show of power, one that reportedly invovled instances of torture.
How MBS will rule Saudi Arabia in the years to come is a major question. But there’s another, equally important one: How will governments, especially those in the West, respond if MBS repeats these same kinds of behaviors—or worse?
Spectatio 