Rock the Casbah

Rage and Rebellion Across the Islamic World

Robin Wright

• Publisher: Simon & Schuster
• Year: 2011
• ISBN:
  9781439123065
• Topic: Política y relaciones internacionales
• Subtopic: Política

A decade after the 9/11 attacks, this groundbreaking book takes readers deep into rebellions against both autocrats and extremists that are redefining politics, culture, and security threats across the Islamic world. The awakening involves hundreds of millions of people. And the political transformations— and tectonic changes—are only beginning. Robin Wright, an acclaimed foreign correspondent and television commentator, has covered the region for four decades. She witnessed the full cycle, from extremism's angry birth and globalization to the rise of new movements transforming the last bloc of countries to hold out against democracy. Now, in Rock the Casbah, she chronicles the new order being shaped by youthinspired revolts toppling leaders, clerics repudiating al Qaeda, playwrights and poets crafting messages of a counter-jihad, comedians ridiculing militancy, hip-hop rapping against guns and bombs, and women mobilizing for their own rights. This new counter-jihad has many goals. For some, it's about reforming the faith. For others, it's about reforming political systems. For most, it's about achieving basic rights. The common denominator is the rejection of venomous ideologies and suicide bombs, plane hijackings, hostage-takings, and mass violence to achieve those ends. Wright captures a stunning moment in history, one of the region's four key junctures—along with Iran's revolution, Israel's creation, and the Ottoman Empire's collapse—in a century. The notion of a clash of civilizations is increasingly being replaced by a commonality of civilizations in the twenty-first century. But she candidly details both the possibilities and pitfalls ahead. The new counter-jihad is imaginative and defiant, but Muslim societies are also politically inexperienced and economically challenged.

PART ONE

Extreme Makeover

1.

The Scent of Jasmine

With our blood we will teach the world the meaning of FREEDOM.

—EGYPTIAN PROTEST SIGN

A revolution that rocked authoritarian rule across the Middle East was ignited by a seven-dollar bribe. The spark, literally, was a young Tunisian street vendor with black curls, deep brown eyes, and a wry smile.

On most days, Mohamed Bouazizi pushed a wooden cart loaded with seasonal fruits to the center of Sidi Bouzid, a forlorn town where almost one-third of the labor force was unemployed and rights were often decided by bribes rather than the law. At twenty-six, Bouazizi was the family’s main breadwinner. His father had died when he was three; he had worked since the age of ten. His family—five siblings, mother, and ailing uncle—lived constantly on the edge in a three-room home off a dusty alley.

The political fate of an entire region turned on December 17, 2010, when Tunisia’s corrupt autocracy pushed the young peddler too far. It started out as a minor incident. A city inspector, a middle-aged woman, hassled the lanky youth over his business permit. It was not the first time. Like other professions, street vendors often paid bribes to get or to keep permits. The standard bribe was ten dinars, about seven dollars, but it was also often a whole day’s earnings. This time, however, Bouazizi protested. The two swore at each other, according to local reports.

“Should I become a thief?” Bouazizi shouted at the inspector, according to a friend. “Should I die?”¹

The inspector then seized his winter apples and—details are disputed—may have slapped him. Two of her colleagues reportedly then knocked Bouazizi to the ground and walked off with his electronic scale.

Without his produce—often acquired by street vendors on credit—Bouazizi pushed his empty cart to the Sidi Bouzid town hall to appeal. He was rebuffed. He refused to capitulate. He next went to the local governor’s office—Sidi Bouzid is the capital of one of Tunisia’s twenty-three provinces—but was again turned back. Officials were otherwise engaged.²

The most popular picture of Bouazizi showed a young man with high cheekbones and fashionably unshaven facial stubble. He wore a blue-gray jacket and a white T-shirt in the candid photograph, captured as he clapped his hands. He looked happy.

But on a cold December day in 2010, Bouazizi was clearly desperate after his failed appeals. Around midday, according to local accounts, he hauled his cart back to the governor’s office, this time with paint thinner. He stood in the middle of the street and shouted, “How do you expect me to earn a living?” He poured the highly flammable liquid over his body. Then he lit a match.

Flames burned through his clothes and then engulfed his body, even burning off his lips.

The young Tunisian actually survived, despite third-degree burns on 90 percent of his body. But the match he lit ignited other flames. Bouazizi’s mother, family, and friends picked up where he left off. They gathered at the governor’s office later that day.

“Here is your bribe,” they shouted, throwing coins at the gate.³

Sidi Bouzid is a three-hour drive south of cosmopolitan Tunis. It is a rural area of unpaved roads and crumbling buildings largely ignored by the government. But cell phones are common, and the Internet is popular. Over one-third of Tunisians are Internet users. Some 20 percent use Facebook. Bouazizi’s cousin posted a video of the family protest on YouTube. Al Jazeera picked it up and aired it within hours, as eventually did other independent satellite stations circumventing state-controlled television. A local lawyer who witnessed Bouazizi’s self-immolation used Facebook, one of the few online video sites not censored, to mobilize the public for broader protests. Word spread quickly on Twitter.⁴

Within twenty-four hours, the world’s first “virtual” revolution rumbled across Tunisia.

Enraged and then emboldened, Tunisians were increasingly sucked into the drama. Over the next ten days, turmoil traveled from the poor interior—Kasserine, Thala, and Menzel Bouzaiene—to the scenic capital. Protests signs became increasingly bold in an authoritarian state. One sign borrowed from Barack Obama’s presidential campaign. “Yes we can, too!” it boasted.

As the protests swelled, so did the issues. Bouazizi’s self-immolation resonated especially among youth, who suffered the highest unemployment and bleakest futures. Demonstrations of disgust grew to demands for jobs, justice, and then the regime’s ouster.

“We were a volcano that was going to explode,” reflected trade union leader Attia Athmouni. “And when Bouazizi burnt himself, we were ready. Protesters demanded payback for the blood of Bouazizi, and this developed into economic, social, and political demands.”⁵

Tunisia’s government fumbled its response from the beginning. President Zine al Abidine Ben Ali and the state-controlled media initially ignored the trouble.

Like many Arab countries, the little North African country was ruled by a ruthless autocrat. Ben Ali was only its second leader since Tunisia—which is slightly smaller than Wisconsin, and squished between Algeria and Libya—gained independence from France in 1956. Habib Bourguiba was its first leader; I first visited Tunisia in 1974 as he laid the groundwork to become president for life. Bourguiba ruled for thirty years. He was ousted by Ben Ali, then the prime minister, in 1987 on grounds of mental incompetence. By then, Bourguiba was eighty-four.

Ben Ali followed the same pattern. By 2010, he had been in power for almost a quarter century. According to widespread reports, his family, especially his wife, was notoriously corrupt.

Cables from American diplomats released by WikiLeaks in late 2010 chronicled their kleptocracy, which one classified cable called a quasi-mafia. A cable in 2008 was particularly disparaging. It was entitled “What’s Yours Is Mine.”

“Corruption in Tunisia is getting worse,” it reported. “Whether it’s cash, services, land, property, or yes, your yacht, President Ben Ali’s family is rumored to covet it and reportedly gets what it wants.” As an example, it noted reports that Ben Ali’s nephews seized a French businessman’s yacht in 2006. The family acquired control over everything from the most lucrative bank to a university.

Other cables detailed a dinner party given by the president’s son-in-law—for the American ambassador—with desserts including ice cream flown in from St. Tropez on the French Riviera. The son-in-law’s estate was replete with a large tiger—named Pasha—living on the grounds. It reminded the envoy of Uday Hussein, the son of former Iraqi President Saddam Hussein who had a personal zoo, including lions and cheetahs, at his Baghdad palace.

The Ben Ali family was widely reported to control banks, an airline, supermarket chains, television stations, vast real estate holdings both at home and abroad, and pricey foreign car dealerships. Some estimates claimed the extended family—especially through Ben Ali’s second wife, a former hairdresser—controlled one-half of the Tunisian economy directly or indirectly.⁶

The US Embassy warned of the potential impact. “With Tunisians facing rising inflation and high unemployment, the conspicuous displays of wealth and persistent rumors of corruption have added fuel to the fire,” it reported.

Ben Ali was finally forced to address the growing national turmoil on December 28, eleven days after the young street vendor had set himself alight. The president publicly reprimanded the protesters and threatened punishment. He warned of the economic consequences to a country heavily reliant on tourism. The whitewashed hamlets and Mediterranean beachfronts were particularly popular among Europeans. Ben Ali even equated the demonstrators with “terrorists.”⁷

To quell dissent, the government deployed police who used tear gas and then live ammunition. But as protesters started to die, the opposition only got angrier. Many cell phone videos of the shootings and their bloodied victims ended up on Facebook, the only video-sharing platform beyond the government’s control. The images shocked Tunisians.

As pressure increased, Ben Ali began to cede some ground. A cabinet minister raced to Sidi Bouzid and pledged millions of dinars for jobs and development. Ben Ali even went to Bouazizi’s hospital bedside in the intensive care burn unit.

The visit was clearly a publicity gimmick. The government released a photograph of Ben Ali’s entourage consulting with the doctors and “extending his thanks to the medical team who is exerting all efforts to provide the needed care to the patient.”⁸ Bouazizi was so totally swathed in thick bandages that he looked like a mummy. He could not see, hear, or speak. He was unaware of the president’s visit.

Bouazizi died one week later, on January 4, 2011, barely three weeks after his confrontation over a seven-dollar bribe. He was buried outside Sidi Bouzid, among the cactus and olive trees, with a gray concrete slab as a marker.

By then, the uprising had evolved. Hundreds of thousands of Tunisians were turning out across the country to demand that the president step down. They started to call it the Jasmine Revolution. Jasmine is Tunisia’s national flower.

Appearing increasingly desperate, Ben Ali imposed a state of emergency and a dusk-to-dawn curfew. He banned all public gatherings of more than two people, vowing that violators would be shot. His security forces, wielding machine guns, patrolled the streets. Gunfire echoed sporadically through Tunis, as tanks rumbled along the capital’s streets. Even the airport was shut down.⁹

Ben Ali also took dramatic political steps to appease public anger. He fired his whole cabinet. He pledged to conduct parliamentary elections in six months. He vowed reforms, the release of political prisoners, and an investigation into the deaths of protesters. He then promised not to run again in 2014.

It was all too late. On January 13, Ben Ali’s own military commanders turned against him. They refused to continue using army troops to put down the protests.

The next day, with tear gas still hanging over the capital, Ben Ali and his wife fled to Saudi Arabia. With dizzying speed, it was all over in a month. The Jasmine Revolution was the first popular uprising in an Arab country that forced an autocrat from power.

The impact of Bouazizi’s desperate act of defiance was as profound as any of the region’s legendary wars. It transformed politics—both who was empowered and how—in the last bloc of countries to hold out against change. It created a new model.

“We used to offer catastrophic models of ‘Lebanonization,’ ‘Somalization,’ and ‘Iraqization.’ We now have a model that is worthy of respect to offer the world: ‘Tunisification,’ ” wrote Yasser abu Hilalah in Jordan’s Al Ghad newspaper.

“Those who grew up in the shadow of systematic and destructive repression for twenty-three years have toppled the dictator without being implicated in violence, terrorism, or links to foreign powers. They did not need favors from anyone.”¹⁰

But Tunisia’s Jasmine Revolution did more than create a new model. It launched the fourth in a series of pivotal turning points for the Middle East over a century. The first was the collapse of the Ottoman Empire after World War I, which led to the formation of modern Turkey and the creation of new Arab states. The second was the creation of Israel after World War II, which reconfigured the region’s borders and battle lines. And the third was Iran’s Islamic revolution in 1979, which redefined the world’s political spectrum and codified fundamentalist dogma.

The Jasmine Revolution also exposed the depth of desperation—economic need, political rage, and social despair—across the Arab world. Within days, at least sixteen men in five other countries emulated Bouazizi. Seven Algerians from widely diverse parts of the country set themselves ablaze amid growing pro-democracy protests. Most—including a father of six—were protesting unemployment or housing problems. In Egypt, six men reportedly set fire to themselves, one in front of parliament in central Cairo to protest the price of bread. A Mauritanian set himself alight—in his own car—in front of parliament to protest treatment of his tribe. A Moroccan doused himself with flammable fluid in Casablanca.¹¹

Regimes tried to stem the trend. Cairo’s Al Azhar University, the oldest center of Islamic learning, dating back more than a millennium, warned that suicide was against teachings of the Koran—even in the struggle for justice. In Saudi Arabia, the birthplace of Islam and site of its two holiest shrines, Grand Mufti Abdel Aziz al Sheikh issued a fatwa on January 20, 2011, condemning all forms of suicide and specifically suicide over harsh living conditions. But the fatwa did not prevent a Saudi from Jizan, an underdeveloped region near the Yemen border, from pouring gasoline over his body and setting himself on fire the next day. He died in the hospital.¹² The rage was not only from the young. The Saudi was in his sixties.

The numbers were striking, if small. Regimes insisted at least some of the men were mentally unfit.

But the tactic marked a turning point. In a region famed for suicide bombings as a favorite idiom of opposition, Bouazizi’s self-immolation tried a different tack. He did not take anyone else’s life to intimidate or terrorize. The young Tunisian instead killed himself to shame the state. And he succeeded far better than any suicide bomber.

Three weeks after Ben Ali fled, Tunisians organized a “Caravan of Thanks” to Sidi Bouzid. The caravan, protected by an army escort, began in Tunis and picked up cars, vans, and buses along the way. By the time it reached the town that Ben Ali’s government had forgotten, some 10,000 Tunisians had joined in. The caravan was almost three miles long. Like the revolution, it had been mobilized through Facebook. The caravan ended at B...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Dedication
• Prologue: The Sandstorm
• Part One: Extreme Makeover
• Part Two: A Different Tune
• Part Three: A Wild Ride
• Epilogue: The Morning After
• Acknowledgments
• About Robin Wright
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index
• Copyright