The Battle for the Arab Spring

by Lin Noueihed

  Much of the funds that have been pledged are likely to arrive in dribs and drabs over the coming years and not in Tunisia's hour of need, opening up the field to other countries with more money but different agendas. ‘If the Arab Spring is going to work anywhere, it is Tunisia. So it is strategically important that Europe supports Tunisia in achieving that. But Europe has its own problems,’ said one Western diplomat. ‘The sort of money we put into Eastern Europe just isn't there. They can get money from the Gulf, but the Gulf's interest is in stability, not in the transition to democracy.‘73

  The New Tunisia

  For all the dangers it faces, Tunisia has made more progress towards democracy than any other Arab country that saw unrest in 2011, and has a greater chance than any other of making a relatively peaceful transition. Despite secular fears over the Islamization of state and society, Ennahda is the single most progressive Islamist movement in the Arab world working in the most overtly secular society in the Arab world. If the party lives up to its self-proclaimed moderation, democratic values and pragmatism, then including the Islamist movement in political life could turn out to be a stabilizing factor that imbues the new system with legitimacy from the widest possible spectrum of Tunisians. Ennahda may indeed struggle to reconcile its religious ideals with the day-to-day compromises that government requires, and that, say many observers, is a good thing.

  Many Tunisians said they voted for the party not because it was Islamic but because it was untainted by the corruption that has sullied politics for so long. But power itself corrupts. Governments and deputies make mistakes for which, in the new democratic system to which Tunisians aspire, they must be held accountable. And if their economic policies are unable to create the jobs that young Tunisians want, they will be punished. There is nothing as effective as life in government and the accountability of genuine democracy for tempering extremism and encouraging accommodation. It is better, say Tunisians and Western diplomats alike, to have mainstream Islamists working within the political tent, than making bombs outside of it.

  In the months that followed the overthrow of Ben Ali, more than one hundred political parties registered for the elections. Most of the new parties won no seats in the assembly and will likely be wound down. Those that performed well were opposition parties that had existed, legally or illegally, before the uprising. Youth activists who played a role in diss-eminating information or organizing protests online have fallen out and non-religious parties have splintered in the face of the organized and cohesive Ennahda, which immediately began canvassing door-to-door, undertaking charitable works and organizing mass weddings for couples with limited means – behaviour opponents said was tantamount to vote-buying. Yet 2011 was only the first phase in a prolonged period of change ushered in by the uprising. In the new Tunisia, new groups will have time to build experience and to present themselves and their vision in the future elections.

  Two weeks after Ben Ali left Tunisia, blogger and journalist Sofiane Chourabi set up a group that raises political awareness among younger people with the aim of building a new generation of active citizens and political leaders of the future. ‘The years that Tunisians lived in a political and cultural desert did not allow the birth of a new youth generation able to lead a political life in a mature and responsible way. The challenge is to create a mechanism to encourage the political culture,’ he said. It is a long-term project which will take years to bear fruit, but the next generation of Tunisians is already in the making.

  So can we call the Tunisian uprising a revolution? Debate still rages among Tunisians themselves. Many of those who remain unemployed, or who found that policies have not gone their way, or that their strike failed to secure their demands, may say nothing has changed. Yet no one who had visited Tunisia before January 2011 could deny that the country has indeed been transformed. By late 2011, political parties were freely competing for popularity in a country that had essentially been a one-party state since independence. Anyone could organize and hold a peaceful protest or strike, and they did so every day. The media has some way to go in overcoming its bad old habits, but journalists are mostly free to write what they want and criticize who they like. Tunisians can express their political views without fear of the secret police, now disbanded. And even if they are being watched, Tunisians are no longer arrested and harassed solely because of their opinions.

  The reality is that Tunisia is midway through a political revolution that has a relatively high chance of success. It has an educated population and an active civil society, an effective education system and good healthcare. The overwhelming majority of its people are Sunni Muslims and tribal loyalties are weak, minimizing the risks of sectarian or clan violence. Its Islamists are pragmatic, perhaps more so than some of its secularists. And Tunisia has a long history as a state. It is not a country that was created by imperial powers, like Iraq or Libya, which are riddled with ethnic or regional divisions. It has the basic institutions of a democratic state, a bicameral parliament, and a separate judiciary. Tunisians say the parliament needs to have its powers expanded, the presidency must be curbed and the justice system needs to be truly free of political interference. There is much to build upon, but it takes decades to construct a culture of democracy.

  And of all the uprisings in 2011, Tunisia's was the most organic. It did not require a spark from elsewhere to make it happen, nor did it require a foreign military intervention to achieve its aims. One of the biggest factors in Tunisia's favour is that it is simply not important enough to be interfered with by external actors. The country is physically isolated from the geopolitical quagmire of Iran in the Gulf and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in the Levant. It lacks the energy resources that so complicate politics in Saudi Arabia or Bahrain. Foreign powers do not have a vested interest in ensuring that a costly and risk-laden intervention will be considered a success, as they do in Libya.

  Unlike elsewhere in the region, the battle for Tunisia will largely be fought by internal parties rather than external players. Only time will tell, but should Tunisia succeed in making its transition to democracy, it could become a model for other Sunni Arab countries making a transition from dictatorship, much as it became a model of peaceful protest that within a month of Ben Ali's departure had brought down the pharaoh next door.

  CHAPTER 5

  Egypt: The Pharaoh Falls

  You know when you have a scruffy old shirt that's in an awful state and stinks, and it's been too small for you for ages? And you've got into fights in it as well and it's spattered with blood and you'd bought it secondhand in the first place and the guy who had it before you was a criminal who's hiding out in Sharm el-Sheikh … That's what's happening now with the political system after Mubarak scrammed and went off to Sharm el-Sheikh. We want to set fire to the whole of the old system because frankly the stench is unbearable now. The army seems to want to give the old shirt a good wash and iron and have us wear it again.

  – Khaled al-Khamissi's new foreword for the novel Taxi1

  On 10 February 2011, Cairo's Tahrir Square was abuzz with rumour. The Supreme Council of the Armed Forces had met earlier that day and issued a coup-like Communiqué No. 1, vowing to protect the legitimate demands of the people.2 The communiqué caused a stir, not just because of this vague pledge but because it divulged an extraordinary fact. The meeting had been chaired by the veteran defence minister, Hussein Tantawi. President Hosni Mubarak and his newly-appointed deputy Omar Suleiman were both absent.3 Was Mubarak gone? Had the army taken over? Was this, then, the revolution that hundreds of thousands had taken to the streets for?

  Not long afterwards, Prime Minister Ahmed Shafiq told the BBC that Mubarak would make a speech and that his resignation was indeed on the cards. CIA chief Leon Panetta informed the US Congress that there was a ‘strong likelihood’ that Mubarak would step down that night, suggesting that consultations on his departure had been taking place with the United States, a staunch ally for more than three decades.4 Rumours began
to circulate that Mubarak had already packed his bags and flown to Sharm al-Sheikh, the Red Sea resort he favoured. The head of Mubarak's ruling National Democratic Party (NDP) then offered the staggering opinion that it would be best for the man who had ruled Egypt since 1981, longer than the majority of Egyptians had been alive, to step aside.5 It seemed the game was finally up.

  Soon, however, doubts began to surface. US officials said the situation was fluid. The information minister said the octogenarian leader was not going anywhere.6 Yet when Mubarak appeared on a big screen in Tahrir, or Liberation, Square the same evening, expectations among the cheerful protesters, their faces painted in the black, white and red of the Egyptian flag, were high. Here, finally, was the moment they had been waiting for. A carnival atmosphere had prevailed through the afternoon. There was music, fanfare, excitement and finally, as Mubarak began his speech, silence.7 As part of an orderly transfer of power, the president promised to amend several offending articles of the constitution. He reeled off the numbers: articles 76, 77, 88, 93, 189 and 179.8 None of them dealt with the state of emergency Egyptians had lived under throughout his rule, which allowed police to arrest opponents without charge and which protesters were demanding should end. He said that dialogue with the ‘opposition’ was going well, though protesters had not given their mandate to negotiators and the legal Tagammu opposition party had pulled out of talks that day.9 As the speech went on, the disappointment was palpable. The whole world was watching, but the president appeared completely out of touch. Even as he lamented the loss of life among demonstrators, his tone was paternalistic rather than apologetic.

  He repeated a previous promise, rejected by protesters as too little too late, not to run in a presidential election due after seven months. By the time he gave a vaguely worded vow to hand undefined powers to Suleiman, Egypt's long-time intelligence chief and new vice president, people were too disappointed to notice. Shouts of ‘Down, down with Hosni Mubarak’ filled the square and demonstrators waved their shoes in a mark of contempt. Suleiman, then 75, promised an orderly transition, but his words fell on deaf ears. US President Barack Obama had unusually strong criticism for one of Washington's key Arab allies. ‘The Egyptian government must put forward a credible, concrete and unequivocal path toward genuine democracy and they have not seized that opportunity,’ he said following Mubarak's speech. After Washington's early dithering, those words could not have been clearer. Mubarak had lost US support. The next day, protests that the speech was intended to quell had swelled instead. Demonstrators expressed disgust at the lack of respect for popular opinion, disappointment at the speech and a determination to keep up protests until Mubarak was gone. Egyptian pundits and opposition leaders warned that the country could explode into violence.10 Finally, with pressure mounting from the streets and the White House, Suleiman issued another statement, this time saying that Mubarak had stepped down and handed power to the military. The Supreme Council for the Armed Forces, referred to as the SCAF, promised to lead the country to elections and hand over power to a civilian government within six months.

  Celebrations broke out all over Egypt as people tumbled out into the streets waving the Egyptian flag. Cars sped around cities honking their horns, ecstatic passengers hanging dangerously out of the windows. Scenes of jubilation were beamed to television screens across the world. This was big news. Tunisia was a small country and a regional backwater, its revolution a possible anomaly, but Egypt was by far and away the most populous country in the Arab region. It was the Arab world's colossus and its ideological centre of gravity, the one-time cradle of both pan-Arab nationalism and political Islam. It had produced some of the most influential Arab ideologues, novelists and journalists and some of the greatest Arabic films and music. Egypt's status had no doubt declined, but its location at the very heart of the region, with one foot in North Africa and another in the Levant, meant that ripples of political upheaval in Cairo would be felt on the streets of Damascus, Benghazi or Sana'a. If Egypt had changed, the whole Arab world had changed. In Bahrain, Libya and Yemen, opposition activists took heart and began to plan their own revolutions. If Egyptians had overthrown their pharaoh through people power, then so could they.

  Egyptians seemed in February to have matched the achievement of diminutive Tunisia, yet, a year on, violent new protests were still breaking out. The army had not handed over power as promised. Reforms were halting and limited. Protesters who once hurled rocks and petrol bombs at the police were now clashing with the army they had welcomed into power as a guardian of the nation. Thousands of activists were languishing in jail. In late November, when Egyptians should have been focused on planning for their first free and fair parliamentary elections, a new protest movement demanding that the army hand over power to civilians was in full swing. While Tunisians were making their rocky transition from revolt to multi-party politics, why were Egyptian activists still so unhappy?

  Much more was at stake in Egypt than in out-of-the-way Tunisia. From the United States and Israel, keen to protect the first Arab-Israeli peace treaty, to Saudi Arabia or neighbouring Libya, everyone had something to lose if change in Egypt did not go their way. Unfortunately for ordinary Egyptians, the interests of foreign states and their domestic partners rarely matched their own priorities. Unlike Tunisia, with its large and educated middle classes, Egypt suffered from chronic poverty and had struggled to provide infrastructure, services and education to keep up with its burgeoning population. Egypt's Muslim Brotherhood was far more conservative than Tunisia's Ennahda. Egyptian society had become more religious, more insular. Narrow interpretations of Islam were spreading. And unlike Tunisia, where all but a tiny minority of Jews shared the same Sunni Muslim faith, at least 10 per cent of Egypt's population were Coptic Christians who complained of increasing discrimination.

  Even more importantly, perhaps, the police, the secret police and the interior ministry had been the backbone of the Ben Ali regime. They had cracked in the face of four weeks of nationwide protests, leaving the army as a neutral guardian of the transition to democracy. In Egypt, while the interior ministry forces and the NDP had played an important role in maintaining Mubarak and his allies in power, the army had been the real backbone of the regime for 60 years and could play no such neutral role.

  By the end of 2011, what happened in Egypt had amounted not to a fully-fledged revolution but to a protest-inspired coup that had removed certain figureheads but left the reins of power in the hands of a military junta that appeared resistant to reform and keen to limit change. Mubarak's ouster released a series of other conflicts and tensions, not least between the conservative military and younger activists who struggled to maintain momentum in their push for greater freedoms, but also between those with different visions for what role Islam should play in politics and society. The gains made during the eighteen days of upheaval in January and February were fragile and the economic needs of Egyptians huge and mounting. A disconnect had developed between the young and often middle-class protesters in Tahrir Square, and the bulk of ordinary Egyptians who were not politically active and were struggling to feed their families. After decades under a succession of authoritarian rulers, Egyptians knew their political and economic system needed to change, but many were afraid that change would usher in a long period of instability, or even chaos, and push them further into poverty.

  Kefaya!

  Egypt's economy was motoring ahead in the five years leading up to the uprising. Helped by an emerging markets boom, foreign direct investment multiplied from some $400 million in 2003/4 to about $13 billion by 2008/9, peaking in 2007 before the global financial crisis hit.11 The Egyptian government's economic reforms sought to privatize state-owned factories and companies, bringing much-needed cash into state coffers, bolstering the private sector, and drawing praise from the IMF.12 Egypt could boast galloping GDP growth, which reached 7.2 per cent in 2008 before the global crisis pulled it back to a still respectable 4.7 per cent in 2009.13 The pace of growth
had resumed its upward trajectory in 2010 and investors had begun to return. It seemed like Egypt was doing everything right. Yet the impressive growth rates masked widening income inequalities and fell short of the aspirations of the young and educated generation who would take to the streets in 2011.

  Despite living in one of the largest and most diversified economies in Africa, many Egyptians were on low incomes, with over 21 per cent below the poverty line in 2008 compared to 16 per cent at the start of the decade.14 In 2008/9, more than 2.5 million people lived on less than $1.25 a day, designated as extreme poverty by the UN.15 That figure had more than halved in the previous two decades, but on the eve of revolt millions of Egyptians were still just one illness or pay cheque away from hunger. More than 7 per cent of Egyptian children under the age of five were underweight and likely to suffer from stunted growth due to malnutrition.16 More than half of Egyptians lacked access to improved sanitation in 2006.17 There were huge regional disparities too, with poverty in some rural areas, especially Upper Egypt, running at more than twice the national average. Rather than decreasing, urban poverty was on the rise, with almost half the population now resident in the largest cities and exerting enormous pressure on infrastructure and services. Cairo was home to almost nine million people in 2011 and stretched on through miles of urban sprawl, its skies filled with desert dust and smog.18 For every gleaming new suburban development that attracted wealthy Cairenes desperate to flee the overcrowding and the pollution, there were informal neighbourhoods built or expanded using shoddy materials and lacking proper sewage works or paved roads.