Lees hier het pdf van dit artikel. We should not only be concerned about the position of women after the Arab revolutions, says writer Petra Stienen. A political revolution in the Arab world can only succeed if the relations between men and women change drastically as well. She gives her own personal reflections based on her recent encounters with men and women in Egypt. By Petra Stienen Zeinab is one of my closest friends in Cairo. We studied together at Cairo university in the late eighties. Zeinab is Muslim, in theory, in practice she is more secular than religious. Zeinab has been a single mother for a long time and wants a new relationship. But that is not easy, certainly not openly, because if the neighbours suspect she receives men overnight, they might complain to the vice squad. Zeinab is quite desperate about the chances that she will meet a man, as she is past forty and meets only married men who want her as a mistress. She would love to go to a Gulf state to make more money, but the father of her son Hamid does not allow her to take him with her. Yet Zeinab is still in a pretty good position compared to many other Egyptian women. She has her own income, and her apartment is small and scanty, but in a reasonable neighbourhood. According to statistics, about 12 percent of Egypt’s households are headed by a single moth­er. Zeinab is upset by the attitude of the Muslim Brothers and Salafists. ‘They keep complaining that women should be good mothers and stay at home, to prevent them from taking away the jobs of men. Have they ever looked around and seen how many women have no husband to take care of them?’ The revolution has not yet made a major impact in her daily life. ‘The changes at the top of the pyramid have contributed hardly anything to what should happen as well: a revolution in the minds of people, a total change in how we inter­act. There are still lots of small Mubaraks around, in the office, at home and on the street. Only if I can be free to do what I want as a single woman with child, the revolution is successful for me.’ Zeinab is concerned about her son’s future. ‘I’d like to give him more space because ultimately he will become the husband of a wife. I hope that he will be good to her, that he will be a loving partner. But don’t forget that our society pushes boys into a role pattern. He must take care of everything, the wedding, the dowry, the house. Because there are many women who still do not want to marry someone who does not. And so we stay trapped in the shackles of tradition, culture and religion.’ For a while Zeinab thought of wearing a hijab as protection from the increase of nasty com­ments in the streets of Cairo. As in many streets of the Arab world, it is difficult for a woman walk freely without being harassed in one way or an­other. In Egypt, for instance, sexualized violence and harassment against women on the streets had already reached epidemic proportions before the 2011 revolution. According to a 2008 study by the Egyptian Centre for Women’s Rights, 98 percent of foreign women and 83 percent of Egyptian wom­en encounter sexual violence. Interestingly, 62 percent of men admitted themselves guilty of such behaviour. The treatment of women has not improved after 2011 – the Supreme Military Council even condoned sexualized violence against women to prevent them from going back to demonstrate. Zeinab still hasn’t decided about the headscarf. ‘Somehow it upsets me that I am responsible for supressing somebody’s lust and desires in my choice of clothing, so for the time being I will stay as I am, a proud woman who can show her hair and still be respected’. I think of Zeinab at the opening of the Regional Conference for Women, organized by El-Karama. This organisation has invited women and a few men from the whole Arab region to speak about the opportunities and threats for women after the revolution. Having learned from previous experiences in Algeria and Iraq, it is clear that a backlash on women’s rights after the Arab revolutions might happen here as well. Especially since the former first ladies of many countries, such as Suzanne Mubarak of Egypt and Asma al-Assad of Syria had appropriated the subject of women’s rights, thus changing the subject into something associated with the old regime. During the conference, the agenda focuses on three issues: how to increase political participa­tion of women, how to achieve better legal guar­antees of women’s rights and the role of women in the media. Tahany Gebaly, the first female judge in the Constitutional Court, explains why she does not wish to run for president. ‘In my present position I have more power, because ultimately the new president has to adhere to the constitution.’ Bouthaina Kamel, a former tv presenter tells why she wants to run for office anyway. ‘Although I stand no chance in this male-dominated society, I just want young girls to get used to the idea that a woman can hold the high­est office.’ An Iraqi activists has a passionate story of an Iraqi activist about the struggle for women’s rights in Iraq , from her own experience as a lawyer under Saddam Hussein and during the American occupation. Later that day, I find out that sometimes theory and practice for feminist activists are two different things. It turns out to be even difficult for some female activists to keep an open mind when meeting women who have a different vision on the role of women in society. We are invited to a BBC Arabic debate on women’s rights after the revolution. The design of the program is a bit out­dated: five men of different political trends, from liberal to strictly Islamic, will debate with our group and a group of female students of the reli­gious Azhar University. The bus cannot get into the narrow streets of the populous and conserva­tive Faisal area, so we have to walk ten minutes to reach the TV studio. The Muslim Brotherhood has a large constituency in this neighbourhood. Looking at my new friends I see them clinging to each other to avoid tripping on their heels. Despite all the good intentions of the conference, their lives are miles away from the women in these neighbourhoods, where poverty is rampant and violence can be found behind many doors, where women are hindered in obtaining a dignified life by illiteracy and Having too many children. Upon arrival, a few women in our group are upset with the format of the show, even more so when confronted with a group of fully covered niqab wearing female students. Without much discus­sion, they turn around to leave us and go back to the bus. The young Lebanese BBC producer looks desperate, not knowing how to deal with this sit­uation. Two women in niqab and black gloves approach us. ‘Are you afraid of us?’ To be honest, I find it difficult to communicate with someone when I only see their eyes and there’s no way to read their body language to check if we under­stand each other. But I suppress my own reluc­tance, and ask the girls what they think of us and the way we look. ‘You are like a rose,’ she replies with a glint in her eyes. It is almost as if she is flirting with me. ‘Therefore it is good that a wom­an is protected, so you will not fall prey to men who want to break your beauty. And it helps to cover yourself, so that men will not be tempted.’ I try a different approach: ‘You are studying medicine?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘So you want to be a doctor?’ ‘Yes, very much.’ ‘Do you like to get married? And have children?’ ‘Absolutely, preferably immediately after my studies.’ ‘So then you will be a doctor, wife and mother. And a friend, neighbour, daughter, sister and someone who loves to read?’ The eyes light up. ‘Yeah, sure’. ‘But habibti, my dearest,’ I speak to her sisterly, ‘then you are much more than only a body that needs to be protected …’ Suddenly I see something changing in her eyes, something of a new idea that there is another world out there, different from hers. Finally we stay with less than twenty women from the con­ference to continue the rather disorganised de­bate. We even manage to create a cordial atmosphere and a sense of sisterhood among the women themselves. And we team up against the five men in the panel telling us what the role of women in society should be. The evening takes an unexpected joyful end, resembling the end of a school trip when we have to share the bus back home. A Dutch male journalist is having the time of his life, being sur­rounded by so many different women discussing marriage, sexuality and division of labour be­tween men and women at home. The laughter and fun make me forget that I still can see only the eyes of my new friends. At night I realise that despite all the new insights, there are still many unanswered questions in this conference on how women raise their kids, especially their sons. In many families it is the mother that tells the girls to serve their brothers and father and put themselves in second place. Where are the stories of fathers encouraging their daughters to study and use their talents, if they want to? And when it comes to sexual harassment and violence in the streets, where are the voices of political leaders who say: ‘Our women can safely walk the streets and travel safely in buses and trains?’ During a visit to Egypt in the spring of 2012, the theme of sexualized violence against women comes up in every conversation. A conspicuous advertisement for viagra on the front page of Almasri Alyoum, a popular Egyptian newspaper, catches my attention. The price per pill has been reduced from 27LE to 10LE (from € 3,50 to € 1,30), a significant reduction, especially in a country where the average income is often no more than a hundred Euros per month. I ask an Egyptian businessman whether this development is a positive outcome of the Arab Spring. He responds seriously: ‘Do you realize that in this country, young men have huge sexual problems? Many women in Egypt, Muslims and Christians, have undergone genital mutilation, nobody has had decent sex education and fun in the bedroom is unknown to many. You bet they like to use those pills’. Other Egyptian friends are less outspoken about the ad. According to them, sexual pleasure is not really a priority in times of revolutions and economic malaise. The Egyptian-American Mona Eltahawy thinks otherwise, according to her article ‘Why do they hate us’, published at the end of April 2012 in the American magazine Foreign Policy. She argues that the political revolution in the Arab world can only succeed if a social, cultural and sexual revo­lution takes place as well. According to her, the fear of female sexuality and the hatred of women halts the progress of the whole society. I think she is right that political freedoms will never take root without personal freedoms. Fundamental change requires an active strategy of politicians, media and educators to ensure that men and women can interact with each other as equal partners in every field of life. This will certainly take time, given the conservative nature of Arab societies. Zeinab and many other Arab friends have told me that this is what they appreciate in the way relationships are formed in Europe: the equality between partners. As Samir, a Syrian friend, once said to me: ‘It is a dream to just fall in love with each other, to be able to walk in the park and build a future together. Without being controlled by our parents, the state or a religious figure.’   Petra Stienen is a writer and Arabist.   Heeft dit artikel uw interesse gewekt? Klik hier voor meer info en abonnementen. – – Dit artikel verscheen in idee nr. 6 2012: Trust in people’s own power, en is te vinden bij het onderwerp kansengelijkheid.Lees hier het pdf van dit artikel. Dit artikel bevat figuren en tabellen. Lees het pdf om de tabellen te bekijken. By Adriane Charbon Better /Worse The most often mentioned reasons for the pro­tests in the Arab World fall into two categories: the lack of political freedom and ‘dignity’ on the one hand, and the lack of economic perspective (unemployment, rising prices, inequality) on the other. With respect to the latter, did the sit-uation improve after the Arab revolution? In the aftermath of the Arab Spring economic recovery is slow. The predicted economic growth for 2013 is only 3,6 percent on average. In the two years before the outbreak of unrest, the respective economies still grew by nearly five percent per year. As the table shows, the people in the Arab countries where a revolution took place, have a more positive view on the economic future. In Libya, Tunisia, Yemen and Tunisia more than two-thirds of the population believes that the economic situation will improve. In the other countries this percentage is much smaller. With respect to ‘good governance’, reports show that the prospects of the population can also differ greatly. Apparently, the people have a more posi­tive feeling in countries were the government was overthrown. For instance, in Egypt, Tunisia, Libya and Yemen, a large majority of the popula­tion believes that they will have good governance in the future. This in comparison to countries like Jordan and Algeria, were protests also occurred, but the government stayed in place. Here only 23 percent and 42 percent respectively has any hope for good governance in the future. MENA region The Arab Spring is a term that refers to a wave of protests within the so-called MENA region. The term MENA stands for ‘North African and Middle East’ and covers an extensive area, form Morocco in the West to Iran in the East. According to the definition of the World Bank the region contains 22 countries, which together possesses 60 percent of the worlds oil reserves. The region has a population of 380 million, about six percent of the world population. The majority of people in the Arab World adheres to Islam which is the only allowed religion in most countries. Shari’a law exists partially in the legal system in some countries, like Egypt, Iraq, Kuwait and Morocco. The most widely spoken languages in de MENA region are Arabic and Persian. Other languages that are spoken include Abchazo-Adygeïsche languages, Armenian, Azerbaijani, Beloetsji, Greek, Hebrew, Kurdish, Luri, Syriac, Turkish, Urdu and Yiddish. Protests After 26-year-old fruit seller Mohamed Bouazizi set fire to himself on 17th of December 2010, the world news was dominated by the mass protests in the Arab world. In response to these protests Time Magazine even proclaimed ‘the protester’ the most important person of 2011. According to Time, ‘massive street and effective global pro­tests was oxymoron until – suddenly, shockingly – exactly one year ago. The protester once again became the creator of history’. Although world­wide the impact was considerable, it is debatable if the demonstrations can be called mass protests. In most countries where protests took place, it was only a small group of often young demon­strators that went to the streets to protest. In Jordan, Palestine, Algeria, Morocco, Kuwait and Yemen, the percentage of the population that in the last three years has participated in any demonstrations is – despite the Arab Spring – relatively low. This means that a large majority of the population in these countries did not par­ticipate in any protests during the Arab Spring. Internet Although the extent of influence is subject to debate, one can safely say that social media played an important role during the Arab Spring. It made organised demonstrations possible and kept the world up to date on the situation in the Arab world. Nine out of ten Egyptians and Tunisians said to have used Facebook to set up demonstrations and spread awareness. Additionally, 28 percent of Egyptians and 29 percent of Tunisians from the same survey responded that the blocking of Facebook by the government during the protests greatly hindered or disrupted all communication. During the protests the use of social media more than doubled in the Arab countries. On the 5th of April the amount of Facebook users in the Arab countries went above 27,7 million people. These figures however do not apply to all countries were protests occurred. The table shows that the percentage of the population with access to the internet (and social media) in Jordan, Palestine, Algeria, Morocco, Kuwait and Yemen is relatively small. It is perhaps a telling observation that the protests in these countries where also smaller and than in Tunisia and Egypt. On October 23rd, 2011 the first free elections in Tunisia took place. The enthusiasm of Tunisian people was big and the Tunisian voters waited for hours to be able to cast their vote. The elections in this country where the Arab Spring began, were one of the highlights of the revolution. The tran­sition to democracy in the Arab world goes much slower than expected, however. This is also the case in Tunisia. The winner of the elections in Tunisia – the Islamic party Ennahda – continues to limit rights of women and freedom of expres­sion. In addition, the party struggles to keep the radical Salafist opposition party under control. Despite the difficult progress of democratisation the majority of Tunisian people still favours democracy. Research shows that the number of Tunisians that is in favour of a stable demo­cratic government has only grown.   Heeft dit artikel uw interesse gewekt? Klik hier voor meer info en abonnementen. – – Dit artikel verscheen in idee nr. 6 2012: Trust in people’s own power, en is te vinden bij het onderwerp feiten en cijfers.Lees hier het pdf van dit artikel. The Arab revolution was characterised by a strong call for ‘dignity’. But what does this concept mean to the Arab people? The manifold interpretations of this concept in pluralist political landscapes, should be part of our European perspective and the policy aimed towards the region, according to European politician Marietje Schaake. By Marietje Schaake In the spring of 2011, I met with a young Syrian woman. She was involved in peaceful protests and activist networks speaking out against the repression of the Assad regime. Since she had a job that allowed her to travel, I was able to meet with her in a large European city. At that time the uprisings in Syria were not being so severely crushed as they are today. Her group, as she described the network of young people engaged in civil disobedience and peaceful protests, always wore sneakers and knew the labyrinth of Damascus’ streets by heart, in order to be able to run away from police and secret service agents. Their action to paint the water of fountains blood-red as a protest against the killings, would be even more chilling today as it was then. Priorities have since shifted towards mere survival. The courage but also the creativity de­scribed by this young woman gave the Syrian opposition a face. She, like many other young activists, described aspirations of claiming hu­man rights, living in freedom, and seeking a dem­ocratically elected government to represent the people in a secular state. They called for dignity. The notion of dignity is inherently liberal, as it implies self-determination in economical, political, social and cultural terms. It implies the choice to live as one wishes, to shape his or her own identity and destiny. Ideally, dignity is not just claimed by the individual, but also granted to others in a reciprocal manner. Dignity is a more subjective concept than for example univer­sal human rights, and therefore means different things to different people. For one person dignity may be experienced through participating in free and fair elections, for the other it means worship­ping without repression, speaking out in opposi­tion of government or finding means to be economically independent. Dignity may mean increased self-determination, whether it is in an economic, political, social, cultural or religious context. Free of dogma, church or state. Clearly, the young woman mentioned above did not represent the voice of the Syrian opposition. Uncertainty about the representation of opposi­tion movements throughout the Arab world has not diminished since the first days of the upris­ings. Since the early days of the demonstrations in North Africa and the Middle East, increasingly loud voices in the West warned against an Isla-mist power grab that would backfire. And while some of these fears proved legitimate (one only needs to listen to the struggles of women in Egypt seeking the assurance that their basic rights are not revoked (also described in the article by Petra Stienen in this issue), the need to support valid calls for freedom deserved our attention if only even a minority aspired to societies compatible with our values. Based on the fragmented images reaching us via internet from the streets of Tunis, Cairo, Benghazi and Damascus, not one single message on dignity could be distilled. Clearly the situation in each of these countries varied quite a bit. Additionally, part of the distorted image can be explained by the use of social media that do not provide a representative cross section of society. Rather it was self-selecting. Those who spoke English, perhaps worked or studied abroad, emerged as de facto spokespersons to the outside world. They knew how to reach out to the West, and how to gather support. Complicating the as­sessment of the situation was the fact that tradi­tional media did not always have the direct access needed to report on events on the ground. During the course of the upheavals, Western media eagerly embraced eloquently blogging and tweeting, well-educated, secular and modern youths as examples of Arab the people. To these media, the Arab spring perhaps became a roman­ticised equivalent of the 18th-century European enlightenment with the massive use of technolo­gies as proof for a new realisation of individual­ity: I tweet, therefore I am. Initial joy and wishful thinking over an Arab Spring have been replaced by a more realistic view of the complexities and uncertainties in­volved in the transitions of societies that were long ruled by Western backed secular dictators. Two years on, we are faced with new dilemmas. Although the aspirations to live without repres­sion are legitimate, the reality is that new forms of repression present new challenges. Additionally, the uncertainty of transition is leading to hesitation in forging relationships with newly emerging leaders. Since the uprisings in North Africa and the Middle East began almost two years ago, responses from the West in general and from liberals specifically are still evolving. After the ousting of secular dictators, Islamist groups were openly rewarded by the Arab public for their material, economic and spiritual sup­port during the decades of oppression and fear. Their first electoral successes were a manifesta­tion of a number of different things. Islamist po­litical parties enjoyed an advantage of decades of social work and foreign funding and guidance. A well organised political organisation stood in contrast with the long repressed and fragmented liberal voices, who were scrambling to get start­ed. In Egypt I heard people justify their vote for the Muslim Brotherhood or for the Salafist Nour party by saying that people who had not yet sto­len from the public deserved a chance. Others based their vote on confidence and gratitude after years of social programs in their neighbour­hood, rather than on the wish for the establish­ment of an Islamic state. It is now up to the electorate, to many a sensational new civic responsibility, to hold the newly elected political leaders to account. This leads to a related, but different issue of inter­pretation: what does ‘democracy’ mean to these people? The notions of what democracy means to people, and which priorities they identified after the uprisings, are still in flux. An interesting project that provides insight into public opinion in North African and Middle Eastern societies is the Arab Barometer. Surveys conducted in seven countries in the months immediately before and after the outbreak of the uprisings, help shed light on what aspirations people are having. The sur­veys show that support for ‘democracy’ as such remains very high. But the way in which it is actu­ally perceived, differs from political (free and fair elections) to economic (reducing inequality, pro­vision of services) ideals. Before the heights of the political developments the notion of political de­mocracy was on the rise, but in the aftermath of the political upheaval the economic notion was on the rise. People’s perception of their most urgent needs as well as of their ambitions, change over time. The opinion on the role that religion should play in a democracy decreased between the first survey conducted before the protests kicked-off and the second one afterwards. The percentage of re­spondents saying that religion should not influ­ence what people vote in elections, went from 67,8 percent in the first survey to 81,2 percent in the second wave. Support for the idea that laws should be made in accordance to the will of the people remained stable (from 62,9 percent to 64,5 percent), but there was a slight increase in the belief that laws should be made in accordance with shari’a (from 67,3 percent to 73,4 percent). Interestingly, only 30,2 percent in the first and second survey considered that democracy and Islam were incompatible. These figures show that shari’a law enjoys wide support, and at the same time people believe that the law should reflect the will of the people. While a secular government is preferred over theocracy, they would like it to see governance on the basis of religious laws. For many people in the West these concepts are not compatible. The shift from perceiving democracy in political terms to a more economically motivated notion is encouraging, and indicates that socio-economic factors and quality of life are of primary concern. As the public is moving towards a more economically driven perception of democracy, Islamists have to show what they will do with the newly gained power in that respect. What does this all imply for Europe and the way in which we should respond to these developments? As European liberals, we should not be shy in supporting liberal values in general; liberal movements and parties particularly need our support. This is even more urgent as the uni­versality of human rights is increasingly under pressure in Arab countries after the uprisings. Labelled as pushing a ‘Western construct’, civil society organisations working on human rights find themselves pressured or even ousted from countries like Egypt and the Gulf States. New ways are needed to engage with people in coun­tries in transition. The concept of dignity offers a new lens through which the aspirations of peo­ple may be better understood and supported. For people to take ownership of their own future, it is indeed essential that values are embedded in a local cultural, social and political context. In North Africa and the Middle East religion plays a significant role in shaping this context. In the aftermath of authoritarian rule, developing the concept of dignity as both individual and col­lective self-determination may not only serve as a lens through which we can see the transitions, it can also be used pragmatically; as a mirror to es­tablish reciprocity in granting freedom and dig­nity to others. A negotiated vision of a shared future will be essential for populations of coun­tries in transition. Especially in the process of developing rules and laws, a bottom up process needs to be inclusive of diverse voices, and should lead to laws that do justice to the diversity within societies. It should provide a mechanism of clear checks and balances. When individual aspirations translate to a collective vision in a reciprocal manner, ideally there are sufficient safeguards protecting against new abuse of power. When the notion of dignity and self-determination prevail and are in this manner reflected in law, minorities and majorities can live in harmony. The concept of dignity is familiar for liberals. They should be assisted in strengthening their voices as part of a more pluralist political land­scape. There are some developments that high­light the opportunities for liberals throughout North Africa and the Middle East. While in Egypt a lot of work remains to be done in building a coalition of liberal fractions, in Tunisia, liberals are joining forces to take on the Islamist Nahda party in the upcoming June elections. Libyan liberals under Mahmoud Jebril, after winning the elections of July 7th, have successfully put their fellow liberal Ali Zidan in the seat of Prime Minister in the Libyan interim government. Islamists have suffered a serious blow after the attack on the US Embassy in Benghazi, where protests against their extremism resulting in violence have forced them away from the scene. Despite positive developments, a lot of work re­mains to be done. One of the objectives European liberals should pursue, is to foster cooperation and communication between different liberal forces in all Arab countries. A first step in that direction was taken in September in Cairo when the inaugural meeting of a network of ‘Arab leaders for Freedom and Democracy’ took place. The participating lead­ers will support each other in order to change as many Arab countries as possible into free and democratic states, governed on the basis of the rule of law, while continuously looking for new partners. Another objective is supporting the es­tablishment of civil society actors, who under the old dictatorships were never allowed to develop. The outcome of any process towards self-deter­mination and democracy is always uncertain. While we cannot force the adoption of our model, we can share Europe’s experiences of overcoming dictatorships and division. It is important to in­vest in the countries of the Arab world that face challenging transitions. The clear calls for dig­nity, which are clearly linked to aspirations of self-determination, deserve our ear. We need to explore what it means within different contexts, and how we can work with it pragmatically. There isn’t a single conclusion to be drawn yet from the impact of the uprisings that took place in Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, Bahrain, Yemen and Syria. The situation in each of these countries is unique and diverse. The need for basic respect for human rights remains a priority everywhere.   Marietje Schaake is a Member of the European Parliament (ALDE). She is a member of the parliament’s Committee on Foreign Affairs (AFET).   Heeft dit artikel uw interesse gewekt? Klik hier voor meer info en abonnementen. – – Dit artikel verscheen in idee nr. 6 2012: Trust in people’s own power, en is te vinden bij het onderwerp liberalisme.Lees hier het pdf van dit artikel. In its most basic way, the Arab Spring was a liberal revolution; it was about the freedom of people to choose their own way in life. But what, as seems to be the case, if the Arab people use this freedom to elect anti-democratic or Islamic parties? In the confusing post-revolutionary political system, the Arab people will have to find a way of marrying liberal democracy with the principles of Islam. And this requires an open mind on our part as well. By Koert Debeuf Our common knowledge of the Arab world is disturbingly limited. Before the war in Iraq very few people were able to point out Syria on a map. In fact, many people’s knowledge did not stretch far beyond the whereabouts of Israel and Pales-tine. No wonder that people were surprised and worried when millions took the streets in Tunisia, Egypt, Yemen, Bahrain, Morocco, Jordan, Libya and Syria. We had no clue who was protesting, why they were doing so and what their aims were. We also did not understand why the street vendor Mohamed Bouazizi set himself on fire in the Tunisian town Sidi Bouzid on December 17, 2010 after the police confiscated his wares and humiliated him. Was this not an overreacting? What was this street vendor hoping to achieve? The answer to this question is that the protesters in Sidi Bouzid asked for justice and dignity. Many of them were in the same precarious situation as Bouazizi; living on the borderline between poverty and extreme poverty. Their main problem however was not their poverty as such; it was the fact that the system in which they lived blocked the way towards a better future. They almost had to live the life of sheep. The system lived and worked for itself, totally corrupt and totally disinterested in the life of the people. Actions of the police were arbitrary, depending on the mood of the day. Starting a business in an in accordance with legal guidelines was almost impossible. On a massive scale people were forced into illegal work, depending on half official or even non-official authorities which did hardly ever move without bribes. If you were protesting against an arbitrary police action, you were tortured, sometimes along with your family. In order to get you out of prison, your wife might be forced to give her body to one of the high ranked police officers. In the meantime, you would see government officials living in the richest villas and you would see your president giving speeches on television about the happy state of the country. I have been repeating the story of how the Arab Spring started because – although it is well known – it is also often forgotten. Despite our initial fears and impressions the uprising had nothing to do with Islam, but with certain liber­ties that we in the West usually take for granted. One Tunisian girl used a strong image on Italian television: the coffin of Mohamed Bouazizi was not covered with the green flag of Islam but with the red flag of Tunisia. The revolt was about changing the system. It was not so much about poverty, but about the injustices that blocked people from forging a better life for themselves. It was against the arbitrariness and the brutality of the police, about the attitude of the bureau­cracy, about the secret services controlling every facet of life. In short, this Arab Spring was a revo­lution against dictatorship and tyranny. In this most basic way, the Arab Spring was a liberal revolution; it was about the freedom of people to choose their own way in life. But like every revolution the people on the street do very well know what they want to end, but once the revolution has succeeded, they disagree on what has to come in place. It would be unfair to blame the Tunisians, Egyptians or Syrians for their discord. The revolution of all revolutions, the one of 1789, was not different. The French knew that they wanted to end the dictatorial monarchy and that they wanted rights for everyone, but they struggled for eighty years on how to implement these values. It was not until the Third Republic that the French more or less agreed on which system should replace the one that had been previously overthrown. The same story goes for the Russian revolution which was taken over by Lenin’s communists, who got rid of the initiators of the 1917 revolution. The same is true for the Iranian revolution of 1979. The peo­ple fought against the regime of the Shah and got an Islamic one instead. Times of revolution are very confusing. Mixed in with the confusion in the Arab world was the presence of Islamist movements. In Tunisia Ennahda only joined the revolution when it was nearly over. In Egypt, the Muslim Brothers joined the protesters on Tahrir Square three days after it had started. The Salafis, who endorse a more conservative vision on Islam imported from Saudi Arabia, were hardly present during the uprising, at least not in an organized way. Nevertheless, both have a large following among the people and are very well organised. Moreover, both in Tunisia and Egypt Ennahda and the Muslim Brothers have been staunch critics of dictatorship. Their leaders spent many years in prison or had to move abroad. The credits from this early and brave criticism combined with the fact that they were seen as the most stable opposition group secured them a win in the first elections. But the Islamists face the same common revolutionary problem: they know what they do not want, but it is hard to come up with the right alternative once in government. Do the Arab people want a liberal (-democratic) regime? What problematises this question is that in the Arab world the word ‘liberal’ refers often to two, not too bright periods in their history: firstly, the period after the first World War until the fifties, when dictators took over and secondly after the year 2000 when many dictators tried to open up their respective economies. In both peri­ods, the so-called liberal system favoured only the elites. There is a second problem with the word ‘liberal’ in the Arab world. To many ears it is a synonym of ‘atheism’. In many parts of the Arab world, people just do not understand how some­one can be an atheist. They understand being from a different religion and will in fact repeat­edly insist that they truly respect Christianity and Judaism, but not believing in a God at all is simply one bridge too far. This is the reason why many liberal parties in the region prefer not to use the word ‘liberal’. Mahmud Gebril won the elections in Libya with his National Alliance Forces. In the media he and his party are consequently called ‘liberals’. When I went to Tripoli provide training to the top of this party on how to form electoral lists, how to build a sound party structure and on cam­paigning, they told me that even though they were liberal, they would not say so in public in fear of losing the elections. The Libyan Muslim Brotherhood would corrupt the word ‘liberal’ and say that the National Alliance Forces were against Islam, just like they did in Egypt and Tunisia. And although these countries are ninety to one-hundred percent Islamic, the policy of the dicta­tors was often to break the backbone of the religious structures. That is why being allowed to publicly profess to the Islamic faith is also felt as one of the gained freedoms of the revolutions. So, are these revolutions liberal? Yes, definitely. The people want democracy, free and fair elec­tions, freedom of speech, freedom of press, freedom of association, freedom of religion. They believe that these freedoms are key to end­ing injustice and to restore their own dignity as well as their country’s. But at the same time, they will have to find a way of marrying liberal democ­racy with the principles of Islam. To our ears that might sound as the complete opposite of liberal­ism, but the two are not necessarily so far apart. First of all, let’s remind ourselves that there is no such thing as the sharia. We have to stop thinking of sharia as Taliban. There are many interpreta­tions of Islamic law, under which also very liberal – you can even call it secular – ones. Secondly, there were periods in Arab history where religion and science/state were separated. The most famous one is the Abbasid period – the caliphate of Bagdad – which produced world class scientists, writers and philosophers. All things considered, it is clear that the Arab Spring was inspired by liberal values. But it will take some time to turn these values into practice, and combine them with local and regional reali­ties in which religion plays a crucial role. Such a situation is hardly uncommon; take for example Poland where liberal parties are very Catholic at the same time. Instead of fearing faith and focus­ing on the difficulties in conceptualising an Islamic form of liberalism, we should consider this as an opportunity to open our minds, step in and help to create a liberal Arab region.   Koert Debeuf is the former Chief of Cabinet of Guy Verhofstadt, President of the ALDE group in the European Parliament. Currently he is living in Cairo, representing the ALDE Group in the Arab World. Debeuf studied Ancient History at the universities of Leuven and Bologna. He worked as political advisor for the Mayor of Leuven, for the Flemish Parliament, the Belgian Parliament and the European Parliament. In 2008 – 2009 he founded a liberal think tank, Prometheus, of which he was director.   Heeft dit artikel uw interesse gewekt? Klik hier voor meer info en abonnementen. – – Dit artikel verscheen in idee nr. 6 2012: Trust in people’s own power, en is te vinden bij de onderwerpen liberalisme en religie.Lees hier het pdf van dit artikel. How ordinary citizens challenge the status quo If there is one thing the Arab Spring has shown us it is that political change is made by ordinary people. Surprisingly, however, interna-tional support for democratisation is traditionally directed towards state structures and actors in a role of power. In order to fully under-stand, and facilitate, the democratisation process, we need to look at political culture as well. By Annemieke Burmeister When we talk about democratisation, the discus­sion is usually about free and fair elections, insti­tutions like parliament, political parties and the judiciary. The approach to building democracy in for example Iraq and Afghanistan has been to establish these institutions, as they seem to be the core ingredient to democratic rule. However, the key to understanding political change to­wards democracy is the acknowledgement that people, along with their values and attitudes, make or break any of these institutional arrange­ments. Building democracy means, for example, the protection of minority opinions. It is straight­forward to assume that a well functioning judicial system will ensure this. It is however essential to understand that the structural behavioural pat­tern needed amongst citizens and elites to allow for minority opinions to be part of the political debate, goes to the core of political culture – the ground rules established and adhered to by the actors in the system, whether ‘elite’ or ‘ordinary’. Therefore our analysis benefits from a focus on this ‘soft side’ of democratic change, the side of democratic culture and democratic behaviour. Democracy: institutions and political culture Democracy is not primarily an institutional ar­rangement; it is a culture. It is an agreement on norms and ground rules of behaviour, accepted political elites and citizens alike. Key compo­nents of a democratic political culture are that elites show policy pragmatism, moderation, co­operation, bargaining, trust, openness to ideas of others and accommodation. In essence, there is the pre-requisite of ‘confidence in the benevo­lent potentials of man’ (Diamond 1994: 11), as this encourages political discussion and helps to trans­form politics into a non-zero-sum game in which defeated parties can accept their exclusion be­cause they still feel that their basic interest will not be threatened and the (minority) voice will continue to be heard in the political debate. This pattern of social interaction, that we call democratic political behaviour or culture, is both referred to as a prerequisite and an outcome of a well functioning democracy. Political culture is not established in a social vacuum. Welzel and Inglehart argue in their analysis of the World Values Survey (2006) that economic development and modernisation in society give rise to values which motivate people to govern their own lives. These ‘self expression values’ include tolerance, trust, support for equality and a desire to partici­pate in public life (Diamond, 2008, p14). While we see that change in a society leading towards democratisation and other modernisation cur­rents go hand in hand, the point is that a move towards democracy is always accompanied by the rise of a culture of democratic values. Institutional arrangements that are not accompanied by these changes will not effect democratic rule. Why we do not like culture Talking about culture used to be a difficult issue. After the age of colonialism, when the superiority of Western values over other cultural systems was assumed, we entered an era of relativism in which it was argued that any culture or value orientation should be given equal regard. By bringing political culture into the debate on democratisation, it is in no way said that any political culture is superior to another. It only implies that if a move towards democracy is fa­voured, this has to be seen in the light of culture, values and behaviour. In other words: arguing that culture is part of the equation does not bring us back to Huntington’s clash of civilizations. In fact, the revolutions of the Arab Spring have taught us that the Arab people support values that do not fundamentally contradict democracy and human rights. These recent developments have shown us that every society has (latent) democratic currents. Sometimes without using words like democracy or human rights, every society is familiar with concepts like dignity, trust, tolerance and com­promise. Judging a nation’s political culture on the traits of the ruling elites and regime, blinds us to the heterogeneity of the population and their values. Democratic behaviour is not only displayed in the political arena. Even people ex­cluded from participation in the political system still form a political culture as citizens, that de­fines social interaction in the household, between colleagues, within schools and universities, in social movements and NGOs. The fact that people are able to collectively mobilise against undemo­cratic elites, hints us towards a reversed socialisation process inherent to democratic culture. Where the state traditionally has a role in socialising the citizens – we here see citizens forcing a change of values amongst elites. Power to the people More is needed however. Political elites have little incentive to change on their own accord towards more democratic ground rules, as they derive power from the current political system. Engaging non-democratic elites in exchange programs, training sessions or dialogue will therefore not effect a change in the cultural pattern of the po­litical system on itself. The incentive for norm change will only arise if the people in power notice that their power base is shifting. In other words: change at such a fundamental level of the system will only occur if new or former outside actors gain strength and thereby access to the political field. Structural change in a fledgling democracy is therefore achieved by supporting and strengthen­ing these democratic forces outside of the imme­diate political arena. If democrats manage to come together in collective action and mobilise social movements that make moral claims for dignified social interaction, change in political norms and political culture is effected. Foreign support for democratisation by engaging the existing power elite and representatives of the state will not be effective – sustainable change towards democratisation is achieved by putting our trust in demo­cratic currents and democratic social movements within these societies, even if they do not seem to be a formidable political force at start. Only citi­zens have the power to redefine the ground rules new norms for political interaction and establish the values on which their democracy can operate.   Annemieke Burmeister is an international development professional and an active member of D66. She has worked for the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) in Asia and Africa and for the past two years she has been with the Netherlands Institute for Multiparty Democracy (NIMD) in The Hague. Annemieke holds a Masters degree in Political Science from the University of Leiden and most recently completed the Summer Institute in Political Psychology at Stanford University.   Literature Diamond, L. and Plattner, M. eds (2008). How people view democracy, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Diamond, L. (1994). Political culture and democracy in developing countries, London: Lynne Rienner Publishers. Welzel, L. and Inglehart, R. (2006). ‘Emancipative Values and Democracy: Response to Hadenius and Teorell’, Studies in Comparative International Development, Vol. 41, No. 3: 74-94.   Heeft dit artikel uw interesse gewekt? Klik hier voor meer info en abonnementen. – – Dit artikel verscheen in idee nr. 6 2012: Trust in people’s own power, en is te vinden bij de onderwerpen cultuur en democratie.Lees hier het pdf van dit artikel. How ordinary citizens challenge the status quo For many years, the Arab people were considered a ‘passive people’, and ‘undemocratic citizens’. The recent uprisings prove these convictions false, however. The reason why we fail to understand the uprisings in the Arab world, is because our liberal Western conceptualisation of civil society and its role in bringing about democracy is not helpful in an authoritarian context. By Iris Kolman Until recently, the Middle East has not commonly been associated with the word, let alone the real­ity, of democracy. In fact, the Middle East was the only region that in its entirety failed to ride the Third Wave of democracy, a term coined by political scientist Samuel P. Huntington to classify democ­ratisation processes of the last decennia. Nevertheless, for years a number of scholars and poli-cy makers held on to the belief that Arab states would eventually make the transition to democ­racy. Although some still argue that the whole world can and will be democratic, others have become more and more critical of what they con­sider a ‘democratisation bias’. Around the turn of the century, Thomas Carothers, an expert on democratisation, called for the end of the transi­tion paradigm because ‘many countries that poli­cy makers and aid practitioners persist in calling ‘transitional’ are not in transition to democracy, and of the democratic transitions that are under way, more than a few are not following the model’ (Carothers 2002: 5). Consequently, numerous scholars of Middle East politics shifted their fo­cus to finding an explanation for the resilience of authoritarian Arab states. Now, after recent events, the main puzzle chal­lenging scholars is how massive collective mobi­lisation finally did come about in one of the most repressive regions of the world. Many have recog­nised that dominant concepts and assumptions about the Middle East should be re-examined in order to solve this puzzle, especially with regard to our understanding of civic activism under authoritarianism. For years Arabs have been char­acterised as passive people unable to rip away the oppressive brace of dictatorship. Commonly pro­vided explanations were the lack of a properly functioning civil society and political apathy among citizens. It turns out that in the absence of representative institutions and independent civil society organisations Arab citizens did find ways to form political identities that were able to shift power relations and change the status quo. In light of the Arab uprisings it is time to re-examine the concept and practical application of civil society, with regard to the Middle East especially. Civil society and democracy Since the 18th century, Western scholars, starting with Alexis De Tocqueville, have stressed the positive and pro-democratic role of civil society activism. From their liberal perspective, civil so­ciety – the spheres of ideas, values, institutions, organisations and networks that are located be­tween the family, the market, and the state – bolsters an environment of pluralism and trust where subjects have the opportunity to become democratic citizens. These autonomous associa­tions are the vehicles through which citizens rep­resent personal interests, channel and mediate mass concerns, and hold states accountable. When civic activism appeared to have played a significant role during the social revolutions in Latin America and Eastern Europe, civil society strengthening projects soon became a key feature of democracy promotion initiatives in the Middle East as well. Since the Arab people failed to rise and overthrow their dictators in favour of democ­racy, scholars and policy makers alike concluded that Arab civil society was weak or even non-ex­istent. The awakening of civil society would thus be the decisive factor in challenging these resist­ant authoritarian regimes. The underlying theo­retical assumption of this liberal normative approach is that a strong civil society is condu­cive to the establishment of democracy under authoritarian rule and helps to maintain existing democracy. Over the past decade, however, a num­ber of scholars recognised that civil society plays a markedly different role outside of the demo­cratic context on which the concept is based. Autocratic repression of civic activism In democratic states civil society is the independ­ent creation of pre-existing civic orientations and beliefs, while today’s Arab civil societies are constructs of decades-old authoritarian and state-centralised policies. Steven Heydemann (2007) has shown that one of the most defining and suc­cessful elements of authoritarian upgrading – the ability of Arab regimes to exploit rather than re­sist broad social, political, and economic trends – is the effectiveness with which Arab regimes have appropriated and contained civil society. Arab autocrats bolster their hold on power by em­bedding civil society in the state through a com­bination of legalism, coercion, and co-optation. It makes perfect sense that repressive states are unlikely to tolerate civic activism that has the potential to challenge the status quo. Consequently, the majority of civic associations and organisations in the Middle East reflects and strengthens the vertical ties that characterise patrimonial Arab states. In other words, the so­cial hierarchies that structure everyday relations are reproduced in dealings and interactions with the state and the state in turn guards and rein­forces the status quo. Still, there is a presence of social associations in the Middle East that do not support their respective regimes. Unfortunately, these associations generally lack the means and political power to instigate democratic change in states dominated by hierarchical power structures. Power of the masses Given the pre-occupation with first ‘Middle Eastern exceptionalism’ and subsequently authoritarian resilience, there has been a lack of scholarly inter­est in the forms of individual and popular dissent that were present in the Middle East. Asef Bayat (i.e. 2010) is one of the few who did focus on agency and change in the Arab world prior to the recent turn of events. Interestingly, he was, in compari­son with most of his colleagues, rather optimistic about a possible political transformation in the Arab world. According to Bayat, active citizenry would induce and sustain democratic reform in the Middle East by producing alternative ideas, norms, practices and politics that would weave into the fabric of society eventually leading to the subversion of authoritarian rule. The poten­tial for democratic reform lies in the fact that even authoritarian regimes have limited powers and can never completely stifle an entire society: the mass of ordinary citizens in their daily lives. It is interesting to elaborate on his approach to bottom-up politics in the Middle East, since re­cent approaches to civic activism in the region increasingly reflect his vision on agency and change. Street politics Contentious collective action has long been part of the Arab region’s political history, for instance labour protests or protests and protests in sup­port of the Palestinian cause; nevertheless real opportunities for sustained collective mobilisa­tion rarely occur under authoritarian rule. This has everything to do with the fact that, under or­dinary conditions, autocrats express little toler­ance for independent and organised dissent. Neoliberal restructuring has further curtailed the popular capacity for revolt by, for instance, increasing the fragmentation of labour and by shrinking the public sector. Consequently, the subaltern – the urban dispossessed, women, the globalising youth, and other urban grassroots – are left to their own devices to fulfil their social and material needs and expectations. These mar­ginalised individuals seek ways to better their lives outside the institutional mechanisms; they look for the uncontrolled spaces – the zones of relative freedom – and appropriate them. Because these informal groups do not have an institution­al clout of their own, the ‘street’ gets to be the site for conflict with the authorities over the control of public space and order. A pivotal dimension of these street politics is that public space becomes the place where people forge identities, enlarge solidarities, and extent their protest beyond their immediate circles. These (imagined) solidarities or passive networks are a key feature in the formation of what Bayat has labelled social nonmovements: ‘ The collective actions of noncollective actors; they embody shared practices of large numbers of ordinary people whose fragmented but simi­lar activities trigger much social change, even though these practices are rarely guided by an ideology or recognizable leadership and organi­zations’ (Bayat 2010: 14). In other words, social nonmovements encompass the ordinary practices of ordinary people in their day-to-day life. Through this passive activism social nonmovements have a significant trans­formative impact on society by weaving their logic into the fabric of society, into norms, rules, institutions, and relations of power. The crux is that these passive networks and social nonmove­ments can turn into organised social movements when the opportunity arises. While the direct practices of the subaltern in pursuit of social gains takes place at an individual level, the de­fence of these gains often takes place through collective action. Thus, a common threat can transform passive networks into active commu­nication and organised resistance. Although more research into these questions is required, the above approach would seem to fit the particu­lars of the Arab uprisings rather well. It is there­fore unsurprising that Bayat’s vision is reflected in recent research on civic activism in the Middle East. More and more scholars stress the need to look at alternative forms of political expression that occur parallel to the state apparatus and out­side traditional organizations. Why we misunderstand Arab civil society The recent turn of events in the Arab world has renewed scholarly interest in the complex character of state-society relations in authoritarian contexts. The uprisings were not led by traditional civil society groups and associations but rather the product of mass dissatisfaction and loose horizontal networks. A returning question is therefore whether the Western liberal concep­tualisation of civil society is adequate to the un­derstanding of civic activism in and beyond the Middle East. General discourse on civil society has rendered meaningless other types of civility that do not match the liberal normative perspec­tive. Instead of perceiving the Middle East as having either a civility deficit or the ‘wrong’ kind of civility, it should be recognised that there are different ways to produce civilities outside of the boundaries that characterise mainstream debates on civic behaviour and civil society. Moreover, it has not provided useful insight into the com­plexity of the social processes that underpin or prevent political change in authoritarian con­texts. Most importantly it failed to identify the – political and apolitical – practices and spaces among ordinary citizens which allowed for the formation of alternative identities. A new non-normative approach Although an increasing number of scholars recognise that civil society plays different roles depending on the political context, there is still a normative bias inherent in the understanding of civil society because it continues to be framed around the assumptions of democratisation. Francesco Cavatorta (2013) argues that the focus should therefore be on the variations of civil soci­ety activism within authoritarian regimes instead of whether or not they promote democratisation. Civil society is neither good nor bad and thus needs to be approached as a neutral variable. Only then will it be possible to truly understand the various modes of engagement under ever changing authoritarian rule. In this context it is ever more impor­tant to acknowledge the reciprocal relationship between the social and political arenas. If any­thing, the Arab uprisings have shown that nei­ther societies nor states remain static over time and that a-political activism can eventually have far-reaching political consequences.   Iris Kolman follows the master International Develop-ment Studies at the University of Amsterdam and is co-writer of From Resilience to Revolt: Making Sense of the Arab Spring, a report by the University of Amsterdam commissioned by the Dutch Ministry of Security and Justice.   Literature Aarts, P. et al. (2012). From Resilience to Revolt: Making Sense of the Arab Spring, Amsterdam: University of Amsterdam. Bayat, A. (2010). Life as Politics: How Ordinary People Change the Middle East, Stanford: Stanford University Press. Cavatorta, F. (2013). Civil Society Activism Under Authoritarian Rule. A Comparative Perspective, New York: Routledge. Carothers, T. (2002). The End of the Transition Paradigm. Journal of Democracy, Vol. 13, No. 1: 5-20. Heydemann, S, (2007). Upgrading Authoritarianism in the Arab World. The Saban Center for Middle East Policy at The Brookings Institution, October 2007. Jamal, A.J. (2007). Barriers to Democracy: The Other Side of Social Capital in Palestine and the Arab World, Princeton: Princeton University Press. Volpi, F. (2011). ‘Framing Civility in the Middle East: Alternative Perspectives on the State and Civil Society’. Third World Quarterly, Vol, 32, No. 5: 827-843.   Heeft dit artikel uw interesse gewekt? Klik hier voor meer info en abonnementen. – – Dit artikel verscheen in idee nr. 6 2012: Trust in people’s own power, en is te vinden bij de onderwerpen activisme en mensen onderling.Lees hier het pdf van dit artikel. The Arab Spring is often explained in purely economic terms, focusing on the sudden increase in inflation or high income inequality. While such economic factors play a role in recent events, much more is at stake. We have to place the Arab Spring in the broader context of the human pursuit of meaning and dignity. That is, the uprising represents a turning point in the relationship of the Arabs with the forces of modernity. By Haroon Sheikh Modernisation is everywhere a disorienting process, leading people to respond to it with reactions of denial, identification or opposition. All these responses have been dominant in the Arab world’s problematic experience with moder­nity until now. The Arab Spring opens the possi­bility of a different and more fruitful road by transforming local culture and traditions and by symbiotically fusing them with modernity. No longer wanting to be marginalised, the Arabs are now seeking a dignified position among the ranks of nations. With the revolts, the Arab masses are taking the means of modernity into their own hands; starting a process of experimentation from which an Arab modernity will emerge. What’s in a name? When talking about the ‘Arab road to modernity’, the objection might be raised that it is hard to speak of ‘the Arabs’ in general. To what extent is there such a thing as transnational experiences and ideas in the Arab world? Looking at the Arab Spring, there are indeed important national dif­ferences between the protests that have erupted throughout the Middle East and North Africa. Students were active everywhere, but the main social groups driving the protest differed from country to country. In Tunisia, it was the middle class that took to the streets, whereas in Egypt it was the urban poor and in Libya it was the tribes who revolted. In the Gulf and the Levant religiousand ethnic sectarian divisions dominate. These differences strongly impact the prospects for stability and democracy in these countries. Moreover, it is hard to speak of general Arab ideas and experiences due to multiple conflicts between Arab countries. With tensions between the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood and Saudi Arabia, Lebanon and Syria, Palestine and Jordan, what is the perspective of ‘the Arab’? These differences and divisions between Arab countries are important to note. But although politically divided, there are important cultural bonds of solidarity that connect the Arab world. As a result, even in conflict with other Arab coun­tries, leaders are obliged to pay lip-service to ‘the Arab nation’, a concept deeply embedded in the population. Although it is hard to say what defines an Arab, the use of the Arabic language is an im­portant element to it. More than other languages, it is considered to establish a bond between its speakers, in large part because it is the language of the Koran. The Islamic religion constitutes a solidarity broader than the Arab world, all the way to Southeast-Asia and sub-Saharan Africa. People connect to and compare themselves with Muslims around the world, but within that group, the Arabs form a special group. Through its lan­guage, holy sites and educational institutions, the Arabian world constitutes the heartland of Islam. Furthermore, another element that cultur­ally links the Arab world is the desert landscape that stretches from Morocco in the West to Oman in the East. The Arabic word for ‘desert’ also means ‘beginning’, indicating its relevance, and the in­fluence of the nomadic Bedouin ethos is pervasive throughout this region. Modernity and the Arab Spring How has the Arab world dealt with modernity over time and what has changed with the arrival of the Arab Spring? It is first of all important to emphasise how disruptive contact with the forces of modernity is for a society. As a result of new markets and production methods, traditional work is made obsolete, demographic changes put pressure on family life and move people from villages into vast cities and modern weapons undermine aristocratic warrior codes and local patterns of authority. As Karl Polanyi has shown, the market society progresses in a double move­ment. As it spreads, it creates material wealth, but it also calls forth a counter-movement due to its disruptive nature. Modernity thoroughly shakes the fabric of traditional society. It is in this sense that we can compare this process to the occurrence of a traumatic event to an individual. Societies, just like individuals, have different re­sponses to such an event. Through the analogy with an individual psychological repertoire, we can shed light on social dynamics, a method that after Peter Sloterdijk we can call ‘psycho-politics’ and which has precursors in the works of Plato and Alexis de Tocqueville. Denial: Oil monarchies A common initial response to a shock is denial. People continue their past ways by pretending that nothing has happened. But something has changed and behind the compulsive attachment to rituals lurks danger from the dim conscious­ness that the old ways are no longer vital. On a societal scale, consider for instance the Indian reservations. People seek to live the life of their forefathers, but honour codes have been disrupt­ed as tribal clashes are not allowed. More impor­tantly, the source of this traditional way of life is the income generated by tourist attractions or casinos, the very world people seek to deny. Denial is often a first response to a traumatic event, followed by societies everywhere that were shaken by the forces of modernity, but it is espe­cially powerful in the Arab world. This is because oil and gas revenues make it possible to survive in the modern world, without becoming part of it. Through petrodollars, a wall can be erected behind which people can remain attached to pre-modern institutions. No region in the world is to such an extent still characterised by aristocrats and royalty as the Middle East. Whereas else­where monarchs have mostly become ceremonial at best, especially in Gulf states like Saudi Arabia, the uae, Qatar, Bahrain, Kuwait and Oman, they reign and rule. But just as with the Indian reser-vation, this way of life and the power of its rulers depend on the world they deny. As wealthy as they may be, they are oil monarchs and a chasm separates them from the pre-modern past they seek to emulate. Moreover, by cutting themselves off from modernity, these societies are increas­ingly marginalised. It is this experience that has led to a second response. Identification: Radical Modernism Diametrically opposed to denying a traumatic event is taking it on head-on, even identifying with the external force. By identifying with the external disrupting force, people take control of their situation and feel empowered. This response emerged against those who lived in the past in denial. It was first developed in the region outside of the Arab world in Turkey. The Ottoman empire with its traditional institutions was crushed in the First World War. To emerge from this weakness, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk set Turkey on a course of radical modernisation in the 1920s. He banned many traditions, deposed the emir and the sultan, shifted the capital, changed the script from Arabic to Roman and he used modern technol-ogies like the radio for his rule. Within the Arab world, this response emerged when Gamal Abdel Nasser rose to power in Egypt, deposing King Farooq in 1956. He too set out to modernise the country. Nasser broke the power of traditional landowners, created grand structures like the Aswan Dam and wanted to show Egypt’s strength by standing up against the colonial West leading to the Suez crisis. But also dictatorial regimes like that of Moammar Khadaffi and Saddam Hussein’s Baathism arose when military men brought down monarchs (King Idris in Libya in 1969 and King Faisal ii in 1958 in Iraq) and sought to create a strong and modern society. But the cost of identifying radically with mod­ernization is that such a regime is pitted against its own society. Turkey’s military establishment had to intervene continuously throughout the 20th century to control society’s conservative tendencies. Moreover, because of this internal tension, the strength the regime seeks to create is often less robust than it hopes. The artificial un­ion between Egypt and Syria in the United Arab Republic broke down in 1961 and the humiliation of the Six Days War of 1967 crushed Nasser’s mod­ernist ambitions. Conquest: Radical Islam A third type of response emerged in antagonism with Nasser’s modernisation plans. This rejection of modernisation was not a form of denial, but a virulent desire to do battle with it and conquer it. It is comparable to the individual who deals with a traumatic event by obsessively channelling his energies into defeating the external force. Imprisoned by Nasser, it was in his penitentiary camps that Sayyid Qutb developed the ideology of radical Islam. A return to righteous Islamic traditions provided the strength to become vic-torious over modern materialist culture. Radical Islam emerged in countries like Egypt, Palestine and Lebanon and ascended to political power with Khomeini’s Iranian Revolution in 1979. Traditional royalty as well as modernist dictators increasingly became incapable of providing direc­tion and embedding to the disoriented masses of the Arab world, which helped the spread of radi­cal Islam. Decades later, the ideas of Sayyid Qutb would inspire Al Qaeda. The danger with this type of response to a trau­matic event is that it casts a shadow on life in its entirety, mobilizing everything for battle. In their attempt to forge a more powerful Islamic world, radicals break down many institutions and prac­tices that they deem to be weak and slavish, like classical apolitical religious jurisprudence and its interpreters as well as local bonds, in favor of what Olivier Roy has called a ‘Globalized Islam’. Apart from this breakdown, radical Islam has no­where been able to create a coherent society as an alternative to modernity, as dominant as it may have been in international affairs over the last decade. Moreover, because of its obsession with the enemy, the response of conquest runs the risk of becoming what it hates. Traditional texts are inadvertently infused with the modern rhetoric of oppression, revolution and nihilism. By claiming religious authority as a layman, Osama bin Laden brings individualism into religion as well as Che Guevara-inspired marketing. Indeed, as an agent of modernization, radical Islam might be its own worst enemy. Transformation: Towards an Arab Modernity With the Arab Spring however, we see the emer­gence of a more fruitful response to modernity by accepting the traumatic event and by trans­forming traditions so that they can help navigate in the new context. Successful countries manage to symbiotically fuse their culture with the forces of the modern world. The rise of China and other East Asian countries has created the highly com­petitive Confucian modernity. In the wider Islamic world, countries like Turkey, Malaysia and Indonesia have also managed to embed the forces of moder­nity within their societies. Beyond the responses of denial, identification and opposition, we are now seeing the slow emergence of an Arab mo­dernity. This is not to say that it will be a smooth and easy transition. Although everyone now ad­mires China’s economic dynamism, we must not forget that it used to be ‘the sick man of East Asia’ and that it took well over a century of disruptive modernization before it developed a successful formula in 1979. Moreover, we should not be dis­couraged by the electoral victory of Islamist par­ties. Only by governing a democratic polity and steering a capitalist economy can the transfor-mation be achieved through which modernity will be embedded in these societies. The lure to­wards radicalism will have to be resisted so that a modernist political Islam can emerge as it has over decades in Turkey. The Arab people will have to do it themselves. The Bedouin ethos What could an Arab modernity look like? We have already noted the pervasive influence of the desert throughout the Arab world. Although few people still live in the desert, the Bedouin ethos remains a powerful force in Arab society. Over the last few years, this ethos has been associated mostly with negative qualities like tribalism, aggression and a disdain for education. We must however not forget that before other countries developed a modus vivendi with the forces of mo­dernity, many people believed that the Japanese, the Chinese as well as the Germans were too back­ward to flourish in the modern world. The state involvement in the economy that is currently praised for China’s high growth rate for instance was earlier on seen as an impediment to capitalist development. When successfully transformed onto the plain of modernity, other currently for­gotten or repressed characteristics of the Bedouin ethos might again come to the fore: a fierce love of independence and freedom, a strong sense of equality (an essential tenet of Islam) and an aristo-cratic refinement might be constitutive elements of an emerging Arab modernity. Modernisation is disorienting. An ancient ethos and the strong bonds of civil society that it is as­sociated with can help people to navigate through its disruptive changes. This dynamic is what we see emerging from the Spring of Arab Modernity.   Haroon Sheikh wrote his Ph.D dissertation Embedding Technopolis in the field of philosophy on the relation-ship between modernisation and traditional culture. He works at Cyrte Investments researching developing countries and emerging trends.   Heeft dit artikel uw interesse gewekt? Klik hier voor meer info en abonnementen. – – Dit artikel verscheen in idee nr. 6 2012: Trust in people’s own power, en is te vinden bij de onderwerpen cultuur,  internationaal en psychologie.Haroon Sheikh The Psycho-Politics of the Arab Spring Iris Kolman Civic activism in the Middle East Annemieke Burmeister Political culture and democracy Koert Debeuf How liberal is the Arab Spring? Marietje Schaake The liberal struggle for dignity Facts & figures Arab Spring Petra Stienen The other revolution: Spring in the bedroom Thijs Kleinpaste Kleinpaste – The Red and the Black Rula Asad & Kawa Hassan Women’s rights in Syria Hanan Fahmy Power of Words Mauritius Wijffels The rule of law Wouter Koolmees Liberal citizenship Boris van Westering Boekrecensie – The Battle for the Arab Spring Daniel George Postbus 66 – No spring for Belarus? Pieter Derks You say you want a revolution…   nr. 1: Crisis nr. 2: Vertrouwen: tussen vrijheid en controle nr. 3: Utopia: wat is wenselijk? wat is haalbaar? nr. 4: Druk, druk, druk nr. 5: Meten is weten nr. 6: Trust in people’s own powerLees hier het pdf van dit artikel. Door Pieter Derks Ik ben voor simpel. En ik niet alleen. Al sinds ik in de E’tjes begon met voetballen staat er elke week een trainer langs de kant om me eraan te herinneren dat ik niet te moeilijk moet voetballen. Bij elke briljante lob, slimme steekpass of onbegrepen één-twee (waarbij de bal meestal in de voeten van de tegen­stander eindigt) roept steevast iemand ‘simpel!’ over het veld. Ik weet dan: de volgende keer gewoon inleveren bij die teamgenoot naast me. Geen gekke dingen doen. Cruijff was zo briljant omdat hij zo eenvoudig dacht. Hetgeen mij er niet van weerhoudt om de keer erop tóch weer te denken dat ik vaardig genoeg ben om de bal met de buitenkant van mijn voet in een mooie curve via de cornervlag op het voorhoofd van onze spits te laten zwiepen en achter de verbouwereerde keeper in het net te doen belan­den. Ik kan het nou eenmaal niet helpen. We doen graag moeilijk. Hoe vaak probeer je bij Rummikub niet een rode zeven kwijt te raken door het hele speelveld overhoop te halen, om uiteindelijk die rode zes te zien liggen waar hij achter had gekund? We hebben de moeilijkste namen bedacht voor de simpelste beroepen. Dan ben je senior consultant account engineer chief executive manager – terwijl iedereen je gewoon ‘baas’ noemt. Of je studeert internationale paramedische toegepaste bedrijfs­psychologische vrijetijdswetenschappen – terwijl je gewoon vier jaar in de kroeg zit. Ik vind eigenlijk dat iedereen, wat hij of zij ook doet voor de kost, aan het eind van de week gewoon één simpele vraag moet kunnen beantwoorden: wat heb je gemaakt? En ‘geld’ is géén goed antwoord. Verder mag alles: poffertjes, plannen, een liedje, taxiritjes, mensen blij, beleid, de straat schoon, vrienden. Maar simpel denken werkt niet altijd. Soms doen we onszelf ermee tekort. Je hoort soms politici over ons ‘gezonde verstand’ – wantrouw die types. Als we altijd op ons gezonde verstand waren afgegaan, had­den we ook nooit geloofd dat de aarde rond was. Dan hadden mensen er toch aan de onderkant af moeten vallen? Nou dan. En als het de bedoeling was geweest dat mensen zouden vliegen, dan hadden we toch wel vleugels gehad? Precies. En als Europa écht zo goed voor ons is, dan zouden we er toch geld aan moeten óverhouden? Ik bedoel maar. De mens is een wonderlijk wezen. We maken sim­pele dingen graag moeilijk (in mijn auto zit een sensor om de bandenspanning te controleren, maar de sensor is stuk, waardoor ik nu een melding krijg om langs de garage te gaan, om de sensor te maken, om op het schermpje te zien of mijn band wel of niet lek is – terwijl ik bij mijn vorige auto altijd gewoon naar de band keek en nooit langs de garage hoefde). En we maken moeilijke dingen graag simpel (als je iemand op televisie met een pingpongbal en een trampoline ziet, zit je waarschijnlijk naar een college over de oerknal te kijken). Mocht er een op­perwezen bestaan, dan zal hij of zij schaterlachend op ons neerzien. Ik heb veel gekke dingen gemaakt, zal de schepper denken – maar complexer dan de mens ga ik het niet meer voor elkaar krijgen.   Pieter Derks is stand-up comedian and gastcolumnist voor Idee. www.pieterderks.nl   Heeft dit artikel uw interesse gewekt? Klik hier voor meer info en abonnementen. – – Dit artikel verscheen in idee nr. 1 2013: De complexe samenleving.