Last spring, Mohammed bin Salman, the crown prince of Saudi Arabia commonly known as MBS, came to visit the city of Palo Alto, California, where I grew up. During his six-day stay, which coincided with Brandeis’ spring break, he rented out East Palo Alto’s entire Four Seasons hotel for himself and his entourage. Naturally, curiosity got the better of me, and I passed by the Four Seasons several times, hoping to get a glimpse of him. I wasn’t the only one. Whenever I was there, there were groups of demonstrators at the gates — sometimes few, sometimes many, but all protesting MBS and his connection to war crimes in Yemen and human rights abuses at home.

To his credit, as Crown Prince, MBS has done much to modernize his country and integrate it with the West. He lifted Saudi Arabia’s disgraceful ban on women driving last year. He also introduced the Vision 2030 economic plan, which does much to diversify the desert kingdom’s economy and move it away from its longtime reliance on oil exports. This economic change, moreover, comes hand-in-hand with efforts to moderate his country’s puritanical religious practices, which helped create the atmosphere that spawned extremist groups such as ISIS. These efforts have made him a darling to Western political insiders; Brandeis alumnus and New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman ’75, who twice interviewed the crown prince, sang his praises in a Nov. 23 op-ed last year. 

Since his rise to power, though, MBS has changed the traditional consensus-based monarchy of Saudi Arabia into an authoritarian state based around himself. He has jailed hundreds of prominent Saudis for corruption, many of them members of other branches of the House of Saud, and appointed close relatives to their posts within the government. Rather than trying to end the war in Yemen, MBS has expanded it, exacerbating a humanitarian crisis and enabling the largest cholera outbreak in history. His blockade of Qatar led to that country entering the Iranian sphere of influence. Last November, Lebanese prime minister Saad Hariri was taken hostage while visiting Saudi Arabia and forced to resign; as soon as Hariri escaped the country, he rescinded his resignation. More recently, after Canadian President Justin Trudeau criticized the state of Saudi human rights, MBS recalled 15,000 Saudi international students from Canada, expelled the Canadian Ambassador from Riyadh and started a bizarre anti-Canadian social media campaign.

All of these decisions were reckless and impulsive and ultimately resulted in negative consequences for Saudi Arabia and frequently its neighbors. None, however, were homicidal.

Then, on Oct. 2, Jamal Khashoggi, a Saudi journalist and dissident, entered his country’s consulate in Istanbul, Turkey and never came out.

Khashoggi, formerly an editor of the al-Watan newspaper in Saudi Arabia, was censored by the Saudi government in Dec. 2016 for criticizing Donald Trump, with whom MBS wished to build better relations. Khashoggi fled the country in 2017, living in Turkey and the United States and working as a journalist for the Washington Post. Khashoggi went to the consulate to obtain documents relating to his upcoming marriage, giving the consulate staff advance notice of his visit. Turkish police maintain a camera feed on the street outside the consulate; on that day, it clearly shows that Khashoggi entered the building at 1:14 p.m. and did not exit.

The Saudis claim that Khashoggi left the consulate unharmed through a back entrance. If you believe this, I have a black cube in Mecca to sell you. The evidence, to the extent that it exists, seems to suggest that he was carried out, possibly in pieces. On the morning of Oct. 2, two planes landed at the Istanbul airport carrying 15 Saudi nationals who came to the consulate about an hour before Khashoggi arrived. They then left the building by late afternoon and the country by evening. All 15 of the men were identified last week by Sabah, a Turkish newspaper. To absolutely no one’s surprise, all of them work for the Saudi government in various high-level capacities — one, interestingly, as an autopsy expert. Taken together, it isn’t difficult to piece together a narrative: The team arrived at the consulate, laid in wait for Khashoggi, murdered him once he arrived, disposed of the corpse and returned to Riyadh before anyone realized anything was amiss. The Turkish government allegedly possesses a recording of this killing, which they have since shared with American intelligence officials.

If such a recording exists, it is no longer in doubt that Khashoggi was killed inside the consulate. The objective is now to determine who arranged the murder. Saudi officials in groups of 15 don’t randomly decide to kill dissidents — someone orders them to. It’s too early to directly blame MBS for this, but you can bet your bottom dollar that he was somehow involved; something like this wouldn’t happen in Saudi Arabia without MBS knowing about it. At the very least, rather than investigating, he’s covering for whoever is responsible.

I don’t know which worries me more — the thought that MBS thinks he can get away with a brazen political murder or the chilling fact that he probably can. Within Saudi Arabia, his position is unshakeable. In the West, the Saudis remain a reliable ally against terrorism, a bulwark against Iranian hostility and a wealthy trading partner. Saudi oil continues to fuel Western cars, and the monarchy buys billions of dollars in Western arms and equipment. In all likelihood, the murder will remain unsolved, and American and European leaders will ignore the obvious because doing anything else would be worse.

What should our administration do?

Last Monday, Friedman, who knew Khashoggi personally, wrote another op-ed entitled “Praying for Jamal Khashoggi” in which he outlined the consequences of Khashoggi’s murder. I highly recommend you read it, and, if you feel it appropriate, to say a prayer for Khashoggi. But in the same way that “thoughts and prayers” should be backed up with legislative action, the United States should be prepared to take diplomatic action against the Saudis. 

Sanctioning the 15 officials involved in the murder, as well as the Turkish consulate staff, under the Global Magnitsky Act would be an excellent first step, illustrating that the United States takes murdering journalists seriously. So, too, would an embargo on American weapon exports to Saudi Arabia until someone confesses — it would show the world that America cares more about human rights than money at a time when we desperately need to show it. Senator Rand Paul (R-KY), a longtime opponent of the Yemen war, has already stated he will propose similar legislation on the Senate floor. Finally, American intelligence agencies should work with Turkish ones to learn as much as they can about what happened in the consulate on Oct. 2, and, if they determine MBS is responsible, sanction him appropriately.

What will our administration do? 

Nothing, probably.