By Ramzy Baroud
When the news circulated that Morocco’s leading political group, the Development and Justice Party (PJD), had been trounced in the latest election, held in September, official media mouthpieces in Egypt celebrated the news as if the PJD’s defeat was, in itself, a blow to the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood. Regionally, political commentators who dedicated much of their time to discredit various Islamic political parties – often on behalf of one Arab government or another – found in the news another supposed proof that political Islam was a failure in both theory and practice.
‘Regionally, the news of the (PJD) failure was greeted with jubilation,’ Magdi Abdelhadi wrote on the BBC English website. ‘Commentators regarded the fall of PJD as the final nail in the coffin of political Islam,’ he added.
Missing from such sweeping declarations is that those who greeted the defeat of the PJD with ‘jubilation’ are mostly the very crowd that dismissed political Islam even during its unprecedented surge following the ‘Arab Spring’ in 2011; and the same intellectual mercenaries who unashamedly continue to sing the praises of such dictators as General Abdel Fattah al-Sisi in Egypt and the various Arab monarchs in the Gulf.
The PJD was not only defeated but almost completely demolished as a result of the vote, managing to retain only twelve of the 125 seats it had won in the 2016 election. The reasons behind such failure, however, are being misconstrued by various entities, governments and individuals with the aim of settling old scores and tarnishing political rivals. The ultimate objective here seems to be to cement the status quo where the fate of Arab nations remains in the grip of brutal, corrupt and self-aggrandising rulers who do not tolerate genuine political plurality and democracy.
For those who insist on viewing Arab and Middle Eastern politics through generalised, academic notions, the outcome of the Moroccan election has provided a perfect opportunity to delve further into sweeping statements. These knee-jerk, cliched reactions were boosted by the ongoing political crisis in Tunisia, the main victim of which, aside from Tunisian democracy, is the Ennahda Islamist party.
Democracy crisis in Tunisia
On 25 July, Tunisian President Kais Saied began a series of measures that effectively dismantled the country’s entire democratic infrastructure, while concentrating all power in his hands.
Taking advantage of the poor performances and endemic dysfunction of the country’s major political parties, including Ennahda, as well as the festering economic crisis and the growing dissatisfaction among ordinary Tunisians, Saied justified his actions as a way ‘to save the state and society’.
An academic with no real political experience, Saied provided no roadmap to restore the country’s democracy or to fix its many socio-economic ailments. Instead, on 29 September, he appointed another inexperienced politician, also an academic, Najla Bouden Romdhane, to form a government. Saied’s choice of selecting a woman for the post – making her the first Arab woman prime minister – was probably designed to communicate a message of progressive politics, and to win himself more time. But to what end?
In reviewing Saied’s political programme since July, The Economist argued that the Tunisian president had ‘announced little in the way of an economic program, apart from inchoate plans to fight corruption and use the proceeds to fund development’. Saied’s strategy for lowering inflation is ‘to ask businesses to offer discounts’, according to the London-based publication, hardly the radical reordering of a country’s devastated economy.
Frustrated by the failure to translate Tunisia’s budding democracy into a tangible difference that can be experienced in the everyday life of ordinary, unemployed and impoverished people, Tunisia’s public opinion has shifted gradually over the years. This small nation, which in 2011 had sought salvation through democracy, now links democracy with economic prosperity. According to a public opinion poll conducted by Arab Barometer in July 2021, three-quarters of Tunisians define democracy in terms of economic outcomes. Since the desired outcomes were not delivered under a succession of governments that ruled the country over the past decade, 87 per cent of Tunisians supported their president’s decision to sack the parliament. They may have hoped that Saied’s measures would reverse the devastating economic crisis. However, as it is becoming clear that Saied has no clear plan to steer Tunisia away from the tragic path of Lebanon and other failed economies, protesters are taking to the streets again, demanding a restoration of democracy and a return to plurality.
Deterministic vs Dynamic politics
When the uprisings began in Tunisia late 2010 and spread across the region, it seemed that the fall of dictators and the rise of democracy was inevitable; also certain seemed the rise of Islamic parties, which had registered substantial victories in various democratic elections throughout the Middle East and North Africa. Egypt’s Freedom and Justice Party (FJP) – which was founded by the country’s Muslim Brotherhood – won 37 per cent of the votes in the parliamentary election in 2011; Morocco’s PJD secured over 25 per cent of available seats in the parliament; and Ennahda obtained 89 of 217 seats.
At the time, it was common to discuss Islamic parties as if they were all branches of the same ideological movement. In fact, in the view of some, even the same political movement. ‘Political Islam’ became synonymous with the ‘Arab Spring’. Some saw this as an opportunity for ‘moderate’ Muslims – marginalised, exiled and often tortured and killed – finally to claim what was rightfully theirs; others, namely Israeli and right-wing western intellectuals and politicians, decried what they saw as an ‘Islamic Winter’, claiming that democracy and Islam would espouse an even greater anti-western and anti-Israeli sentiment.
Often missing from most of these discussions was the national context under which all Arab politics, whether Islamic-leaning or otherwise, operate. In Morocco, for example, King Mohammed VI played his own political game to ensure the survival of the monarchy in the age of democratisation. He quickly drew the Islamists nearer to him, offered a veneer of democracy, while practically holding on to all aspects of power.
Though it will take time to reach a conclusive analysis, it is possible that the PJD’s downfall was a result of its willingness to compromise on its declared principles in exchange for a very limited share of power. Indeed, it sometimes seemed as if the Islamic party, elected to steer the country away from the rule of a single individual, was serving the role of the King’s official political party. This was manifested in the PJD’s acceptance and eventual endorsement of Morocco’s normalisation of ties with the State of Israel in December 2020.
The Islamists’ recent defeat in Morocco, however, must not be viewed as a crisis in political Islam, for the latter is a theoretical concept that is in constant flux and is open to various, often radically opposing, interpretations by different scholars and under different historical contexts. While the PJD, for example, signed off on the King’s normalisation with Israel, Ennahda vehemently rejected it. Indeed, each Islamic party seems to behave according to different sets of priorities that are unique to that party, to its socio-economic setting, national context, political objectives and, ultimately, to its own unique interests.
Causes for optimism
Instead of resorting to abstract notions and generalisations, such as ‘the fall of PJD (being) the final nail in the coffin of political Islam’, an alternative, and more sensible reading is possible. First, most Arab voters, like voters everywhere, judge politicians based on performance, not hype, slogans and chants. This is as true for Islamic parties as it is for socialists, secularists and all others; and it is as applicable to the Middle East as it to the rest of the world.
Second, Morocco is a unique political space that must be analysed separately from Tunisia, and the latter from Egypt, or Palestine, and so on. While it is academically sound to speak of political phenomena, generalisations cannot be easily applied to everyday political outcomes.
Third, the fact that the PJD is quietly retreating to the ranks of the opposition and that Ennahda is experiencing a substantial overhaul, is an indication that Islamic parties have, not only in theory but also in practice, accepted some of the main pillars of democracy and constructive plurality: democratic alternation, self-introspection and soul-searching.
Those who have comforted themselves with the misapprehension that political Islam is dead are reminiscent, in their self-deception, of Francis Fukuyama’s theory on the ‘end of history’ after the disintegration of the Soviet Union and the temporarily-uncontested rise of the US as the world’s only superpower. Such provisional thinking is not only irrational, but is itself an outcome of ideologically-motivated wishful thinking. In the end, history remained in motion, as it always will.
While the Justice and Development Party, Ennahda and other Islamic parties have much reflection to do, it must be remembered that the future is not shaped by deterministic notions, but by dynamic processes that constantly produce new variables and, thus, new results. This is as true in North Africa as it has been proven to be in the rest of the world.
* Dr Ramzy Baroud is a Non-resident Senior Research Fellow at the Afro-Middle East Centre. He is also the editor of The Palestine Chronicle, and the author of five books, the latest being These Chains Will Be Broken: Palestinian Stories of Struggle and Defiance in Israeli Prisons.
By Anouar Boukhars
The making of the 2011 constitution in Morocco has renewed debates and theoretical curiosity about the trajectory of elite accords and their impact on pushing countries in transition beyond their intermediate phase of liberalization. Proponents of cooperative transitions shaped by soft-liners within regimes and assisted by political and civil society actors assert that democratic transitions based on compromise and a strategic necessity to reform have a better chance of success in managing uncertainty and securing a safe exit from authoritarian rule. Despite its elitist and undemocratic nature, the new Moroccan political pact is desirable as it constitutionalizes the principles of individual rights (freedom of expression, freedom of association, criminalization of torture and arbitrary detention) and citizen equality, and convincingly enhances legislative capacity and access to the policy realm. Transitional periods, argue its advocates, are naturally characterized by limited levels of democracy, but as civic consciousness rises and political competition becomes fully routinised, potent political parties and civil society actors are bound to emerge, strengthening in the process the institutions of government and driving levels of democracy up.
By Na'eem Jeenah
The revolutionary fervor that swept across North Africa and the Middle East is leaving discernible imprints on the political and social landscape of South Africa. For many South Africans, the Tunisian and Egyptian uprisings gave new hope for the possibilities of what could be achieved through mass action.
For a people who had engaged in a long struggle for justice and freedom , but who had subsequently become largely demobilised, the idea of a despotic government being toppled through people's power had become a distant idea tinged with the kind of romanticism that suggests it could not be replicated. That changed when other peoples on our continent,took to the streets, faced down the might of brutal security services and armed forces, and succeeded in forcing out their dictators. In South Africa, activist organizations, think tanks, and even businesses hosted events to discuss the events, and a protest was held outside the Egyptian embassy, with protesters shouting 'irhal' (Leave) as Husni Mubarak was still trying to cling to power.
As happened in other parts of the world, protesters in the small South African town of Ermelo, demonstrating at the same time as their Egyptian counterparts, began referring to the site of their protests as 'Tahrir Square'. The Ermelo protests represented one of a plethora of 'service delivery' actions throughout the country. Thousands of such protests take place every year in South Africa, with people from poor, deprived communities demonstrating against their lack of or inadequate housing, electricity, water, jobs, and so forth. At the beginning of 2011, calls for global solidarity grew in light of the universality of the complaint against service delivery- joined especially by people in the north of our continent - of people demanding more equitable socio-economic conditions, opposing corruption, and insisting that the government fulfilled its responsibilities to those who had been, and remain, the most marginalised in our society. These were people who had believed the ruling African National Congress' (ANC) promise of a 'better life for all' but became disillusioned when the ANC failed to deliver on its promises. That failure had resulted in a lack and weakness in the delivery of services such as electricity, water, and housing, as well as jobs to poor people, resulting in daily 'service delivery protests' taking place all over the country. In Ermelo, these service delivery protesters, who often face the force of the South African police, took heart and courage from those they now viewed as their fellow travelers in Egypt and Tunisia. It was as if a certain energy had begun flowing from north to south across Africa, spreading and hoping to awaken the masses of oppressed and exploited people on the continent. The uprisings also began a debate in South Africa - not yet exhausted - about whether South Africa was moving towards its 'Tunisia moment', if it did not properly address the huge challenges of poverty, inequality and lack of service delivery.
In what many in southern Africa are referring to contagion from North Africa, normally calm Malawi erupted in protests at the end of July, leaving 18 people dead, and much destruction of property. Analysts and observers in the region, and Malawian activists themselves, have been referring to these events as being part of the wave of the wave of uprisings in the north. The protests came in the wake of attempts by the ruling Democratic Progressive Party to have President Mutharika's brother succeed him when his term ends in 2014, rising unemployment, and a host of other socio-economic grievances.
When civil strife broke out in Libya a few months ago, the debates took a new turn. South Africa, a non-permanent member of the United Nations Security Council, supported Resolution 1973, which called on member states to implement a no-fly zone over Libya - ostensibly to protect civilians. However, within three days, the South African government explained that it did not support the manner in which the resolution was being implemented. After NATO began providing one side in the war with air cover, bombed the country, and even tried to assassinate Gaddafi, public opinion turned against the South African government's position, and even the ruling party's youth league publicly attacked the president for the UN vote. 'South Africa voted in favour of imperialists,' said Julius Malema, president of the ANC Youth League, calling NAT action 'killing of fellow Africans imposed by our former masters.' The NATO mission had become an imperialist war whose prize was the country's oil and natural gas, and was viewed in a different category to Tunisia and Egypt.
The situation in Libya was also of concern to many South Africans. Unlike Ben Ali's Tunisia and Mubarak's Egypt, Gaddafi's Libya had made its commitment to Africa and the African Union clear - in rhetoric, involvement, and financial support. When the International Criminal Court issued its warrant of arrest for Gaddafi, not only did it undermine the possibility of a political settlement, but it also confirmed the suspicions of many Africans that Africans are particular targets for international justice.
Whatever the outcome in Libya - and there are many indications that it will result in an entrenchment of imperial, especially European, power - the effects of Tunisia and Egypt will be long-lasting in the southern part of Africa. Not only people demanding better services in South Africa, but also those demanding an end to the absolute (and brutal) monarchy in Swaziland, and those demanding an end to Mugabe's tyranny in Zimbabwe have been inspired by our comrades in the north. And while the immediate effects of the courage and determination from the north might seem somewhat muted here, the long-term effects could very well bring down one or two dictatorships down south as well.
* Na'eem Jeenah is the executive director of the Johannesburg based, Afro Middle East Centre