Why it is so hard for Arabs to act together to solve the region's manifold problems

SUSPICION of America runs deep in the Arab world. At a Cairo dinner party , a sophisticated Egyptian businessman asks why there is so much noise about the humanitarian crisis in western Sudan. “What is it America wants from Darfur? Is there oil there? Uranium?” On the al-Jazeera satellite TV channel, the Arab world's most popular, an Iraqi commentator suggests that America was behind last week's bombings of Iraqi churches “because they want to taint the noble Iraqi resistance with the crime and create chaos to continue the occupation.”
Whether such views are paranoid or, perhaps, cynically savvy, they carry influence. Many Arab governments would sincerely like to help heal festering regional sores such as the mayhem in Iraq and the misery in Palestine and Darfur. Not only would this reduce the risk of infection, it would also improve the strained relations with the superpower. But popular distrust of western, and particularly American, motives keeps getting in the way.

The Arab response to the Darfur crisis has been similarly fork-tongued. Countries such as Saudi Arabia and Egypt have dispatched planeloads of aid to the stricken region but also lobbied to ensure that the UN Security Council refrained from threatening sanctions against the Sudanese regime, which is largely responsible for creating the mess. Sudan's Arab neighbours do have an interest in supporting the government in Khartoum. They do not want Iraq-style chaos next door that could ensue if it falls. But they are also exposed to public pressure to prevent another western intrusion into Arab land.

Obviously, all the region's problems could be dealt with more effectively if there were more trust in the atmosphere. And what would it take to create it?