Last Monday, I followed a protest in Tunis that was violently dispersed by police, using tear-gas and baton-beatings.
It is a delicate thing to comment on political protest in a country you
have only been in for a month. But we all have eyes to see (except under
tear-gas attack) and we all have brains to interpret for ourselves. My
previous post demanded further explanation, so that is what I attempt
here.
Since Monday, I have spoken to Tunisians, in person and
online, to find out more about the background to the protests and to
ascertain how much support there is "on the street" for the protesters.
First, though, the official explanation for why the protest was broken
up by the police. The government ruled a month ago that no protests were
to be allowed on the main street in Tunis, Avenue Habib Bouguiba. The
reason they gave for this ruling is that repeated protests and
counter-protests (including one by radical Salafists in which they
attacked the national theatre) were damaging commercial activity on the
street and interrupting the flow of traffic down one of Tunis' main
transport arteries.
It should also be added that protests are allowed in the rest of Tunis
(so far as I have been told) - and, indeed, our little march was
politely escorted by police through the city to the union building,
where it officially ended. That such a demonstration was permitted is
certainly a step up from the days of Ben Ali.
So far, so reasonable.
(An obvious, although not necessarily relevant, counter-observation is that Habib Bourguiba is plenty wide enough to accommodate both traffic and protest. There is a vast promenade running down the centre, between the two vehicular lanes, that would be perfect for a leisurely march - were it not obstructed by barbed wire, soldiers and military vehicles...)
That is the official line, but what did my proverbial man on his hypothetical street say?
To tell the truth, in all my conversations, interviews and casual chats,
I am yet to meet a Tunisian who whole-heartedly backs the protesters
(aside from the protesters themselves, naturally).
One man, when I asked him why the police attacked, said simply that the
protests were forbidden. I pressed him further, asking him if it was
political, but he waved an irritated hand at me and reiterated: it was
forbidden. His closing of the topic reminded me of the political silence
under Ben Ali. Not a good start to my information-gathering.
Others, thankfully, were happy to talk politics - and this freedom of
speech is another genuine joy of post-revolutionary Tunisia.
One of my new Tunisian friends, a charismatic fruit-seller and fine art
photographer, told me that he was sad to see photographs of the protests
on my Facebook wall. He said they were ugly (I can't disagree). But he
also disapproved of the protesters. He told me that they were friends of
Ben Ali and that they had started the fight by throwing rocks at the
police - so of course the police attacked back.
I did see people throwing rocks at the police, but they were kids -
teenagers - certainly nobody who would ever have been in the pay of Ben
Ali. And nor did they start the fighting. The first rocks I saw thrown
were a good half hour after the protesters had been set upon with batons
and tear-gas.
Others said that these protesters have no idea what freedom is, that
they are drunk on the power of revolution, that stability and patience
is needed now, not more chaos. Every time there is a protest, they
say, it is followed by a counter-protest and then a
counter-counter-protest and on and on and on.
Another very wisely pointed out that these protesters are giving the government just excuses not to change anything, not to make things more liberal, not
to give the people more democracy. In other words: their
confrontational stance is counter-productive. He told me too that there
have now been demonstrations in support of the right to demonstrate on
Habib Bourguiba - "A demonstration for the right to demonstrate! Pff!"
His frustration was palpable - and understandable, given the many
economic challenges facing Tunisian society. Not least of which is the
fact that, since the revolution, foreign tourists are going
elsewhere, draining away the 7% of Tunisian GDP that tourism
contributes.
On reflection, it makes sense that the average man on the street would disapprove of the protesters. I have written before
about Tunisia's relative social stability, compared to neighbours
Algeria and Libya and their relative prosperity in comparison to Egypt
and most of the rest of Africa. These combine to give Tunisians a sense
that they have much to lose by disrupting life further. My
school-teacher friend told me that they have enough freedom for the
moment. There are more important things than petty matters like more
rights for actors: jobs, for example.
On top of that fear of loss, nearly 40% of Tunisians voted for the
leading party Ennahda in the elections. It's natural that they would
largely support the government over anti-government protesters. Then
there are the people who are simply tired of the conflict, tired of the
constant protests and counter-protests, tired of the disruptive strikes,
tired of abnormality. Together these groups must make up over half of
the population, so it's not unexpected that the average man on the
street disapproves the protests.
Perhaps, then, the protesters should not have our sympathy. Perhaps
their message is not shared by most of Tunisian society. Perhaps, even,
the police were justified in using force to disperse the illegal
demonstration - particularly as protests in London frequently face
similar obstructions from both government and police (note: I have
never been tear-gassed in London).
But against this conclusion, I would put that the protesters I marched
alongside were a diverse group. They were not all angry young men. That
was the reason I joined them in the first place, when they were just
fifty or so people happily chanting and marching near the central market
on Monday morning. They were young and old, women, men and children. I
was particularly taken by a group from the Organisation for Women and
Progress: I recognised myself in them and they won my sympathy.
I set against this conclusion also that I SAW plainsclothes thugs climb
out of a van and start chasing and beating civilian protesters with
cudgels of wood. Ennahda strenuously denies that they had anything to do
with these cavemen, but nevertheless it happened. So no matter what the
man on the street says, no matter whether the protesters should or
shouldn't be on Habib Bourguiba, no matter whether their protest is
justified or not, even: the running battles that took place down
side-streets, far from Habib Bourguiba - so reminiscent of the actions
of Ben Ali - prove to me that there is something in the
protesters' grievance.
Rumours abound concerning the violence. I have been told that some of
the trouble-makers on Monday were ex-government (Ben Ali's government,
that is) and some were from the Ennahda party. There are rumours too
that there was an explosion at the Hotel Africa on Habib Bouguiba.
Almost certainly we will never fully understand the sequence of events
that ended in violence on Monday.
What we do know is that, since the broken protest in Tunis, there has
been a wave of sympathetic protests in Kebilya, in Sousse, in Sidi
Bouzid and in other towns across the country. What it will lead to, we
shall discover in due course.
The above is all I learnt about the protests, talking to friends in Tunis and online. Now, my impression of why the protest was attacked and dispersed using violent means.
My impression was that the protesters went one step too far. They had
rolled over three police lines already, each progressively more
aggressive - the first linking arms, the second with riot shields, the
third unfortunately had tear-gas. The crowd was so large (thousands,
according to some counts) and so optimistic that it could have carried
on rolling through those lines all day, if the police hadn't used their
weapons.
If the protest had been small - perhaps restricted to the fifty people I
joined near the market - and if they had behaved in an acquiescent
manner, instead of insisting on marching, then perhaps the police would
have allowed us to remain in a kettle at the edge of Habib Bouguiba.
Perhaps we could have stood on the steps of the cathedral, a noisy - but
static and merely symbolic - protest.
But the protesters pushed too far. The police couldn't keep rolling back
and retreating - they had to counterstrike. And once the first shot had
been fired, that was it. The tragic but inevitable outcome was running
battles in the streets.
(A side note: I don't think you can ignore the part played by pride in
the actions of both the police and the protesters. It reminded me of the
Orwell story Shooting an Elephant. The police couldn't accept defeat, for pride in their position. The protesters, once committed, couldn't back down either.)
But supposing the police had let us march to the Ministry of
Interior - what would have happened then? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps the
crowd would have gathered there awhile, chanting, singing, making
speeches. Then perhaps they would have dispersed of their own accord,
their protest heard, their point made, the martyrs remembered.
But the police couldn't let that happen. They couldn't allow themselves
to be defeated, even for the sake of injured civilians and widespread
panic.
I am not naive, however. There is a strong chance that the protesters wouldn't
have stopped peacefully at the Ministry of Interior. There is every
chance that the protest would have escalated and swelled beyond control.
But perhaps therein lies the real reason why the protest was broken up with such force. Perhaps the government and the police fear a second
revolution to follow the first, as happened in Russia and in France.
This second revolution, of course, would not be patient with the current
hierarchy.
I cannot say I support a second revolution or not: it is none of my
business. But I believe one thing is certain: the actions of the police
on Monday - and let's not forget the government, who provoked the
violence by making the march illegal - have made a second uprising only more likely.
Repression does not breed acquiescence in the Tunisian people - you would have thought 2011 had shown that eloquently enough.
Comments
We encourage anyone to comment, please consult the oD commenting guidelines if you have any questions.