By Peter Vincze
Finally, the time has come to set off. Two suitcases are filled with all of my summer clothing, sun screen, the indispensable al-Kitaab book and some Tums in case of an overdose of couscous and tagine. After my short detour through Italy, I was excited to return to the lovely Fes, the city, where our group (of MES concentrators) spent a wonderful winter vacation last December in order to broaden our Arabic skills and escape from the tough student life of the Bologna Center.
All my memories started coming back, before I even returned to Fes, this time, on my own. I saw the huge mass of Moroccans wearing jellabas and hijabs and their countless children cruising all around the waiting hall of the Pisa airport, and was reminded of where I was headed. It was amazing that this group of people were able to bring the feeling of their country to such a distant place. The next couple of hours on the plane were spent in this “re-introductory environment” reminiscing about the past while seeing the beautiful sunset over the Atlas mountains and looking forward to touching down in the amicable Saïss airport and then delving into new adventures in Morocco with—this time—better Arabic and more experience, both of which turned out to be highly needed as time passed by…
Morocco—like many Arab countries—is an interesting meeting point for many cultures. In the north, the Spanish influence is quite perceivable both in the large cities such as Tangir and Teutuan and in small beach towns like Asilah. Spanish can be heard more commonly in the streets, Moroccan cuisines have a heavier influence from Spain, and even the surrounding buildings reflect the architecture that lies just across the Mediterranean Sea. By the same token, French culture also lives within the borders of Morocco. French remains the lingua franca of bureaucracy, intellectuals and the elite even long after the French gave back the independence of the country. One can even find small, albeit vibrant, Jewish communities in the Mellahs all around Morocco, though Amazigh (Berber) remains the most significant ethnic, cultural and linguistic group in the country. Amazigh culture and language surrounds the newcomer in all traits of life from the cuisine, to the language, to the specific dress style with proud members who make clear distinctions between themselves and the Arab population on any possible occasion.
Besides coming to this inherently fascinating environment to master the Arabic language and conduct field research on the reforms of King Mohammed VI for my Master’s thesis, pleasant surprise came right on the second day of my stay. While in pursuit of getting used to the half-Mediterranean, half-desert climate of Fes, I found shelter in a cool café drinking a glass of well-deserved “shay bi-na’na” and checking the headlines of The Guardian. There I spotted one of the articles addressing domestic political issues in Morocco. After introducing reforms in the spring, the King decided to drastically revise the constitution and move towards a more democratic system. From that point on, I was sure I had chosen the best time to come to Morocco and knew that history was going to be made during my stay.
Following the announcement, I did not have to wait long to convince myself that history was proliferating right in front of my eyes: in the afternoon, there were huge pro-monarchy demonstrations all over the city with people waiving the Moroccan flag and carrying the picture of the king—a rather unique experience for a person coming from a political culture where demonstrations are rather rare, especially supportive ones. Since this first encounter, I have had many opportunities to familiarize myself with this phenomenon and I cannot wait to see people reacting to the rather calculable outcome of the upcoming referendum.
Following this eventful weekend, on Monday morning, my first trip led me to the Arabic language school—Centre Américain as locals call it—which definitely lived up to my expectations. Teachers are excellent, classes are interesting, and besides regular sessions, the school provides us many options to engage in extracurricular activities, through which I feel long-lasting friendships are being formed. We also have many opportunities to get to know the new environment and learn a lot about the city and its surroundings. However, the school tries to create a protective bubble for students (since for most of them this is the first time studying in an Arab country), in which one can live a full-scale life in Morocco with minimum interaction with the locals.
During the last two weekends, numerous day-long or even weekend-long trips were organized to nearby cities and to the Sahara with complete board and lodging, staying in four-star hotels and riding padded camels.
Dear Reader, please do not misunderstand me, it is not that this life-style is not exciting and pleasant—sometimes it is even too pleasant. However, I do feel that through this method, I miss the most interesting aspects of my stay, especially the crucial interaction with Moroccans.
Now, as the second week has passed, I have decided that it is high time to get out of the sometimes highly protective bubble and start exploring the beauties of the country on my own. I am sure the future holds many adventures and my quest will be fruitful—in-shah-Allah!
By Peter Gruskin, Beirut
I’m in Beirut this summer to work on the political economy of the Arab Spring at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. My focus is where it all began: Tunisia. Why did it happen and how will the revolution move forward? What were the economic drivers that led to the political frustration and then dismantling of Ben Ali’s regime? We are examining what sparked the flame that set the region ablaze. Rather than file away what I’ve gathered, I thought it worthwhile to write a primer on the situation before the government fell since so little has been mentioned in the press. The most surprising thing I’ve discovered is that Tunisia was doing quite well under Ben Ali.
Well, that might need a footnote.
Life, for the political-economist, can be divided into two spheres: the material and the political. Materially, Tunisia was progressing under Ben Ali, with many economic indicators trending in the right direction since he took power in 1987. Economists seem to concur that Tunisia fared well as a result of IMF-inspired liberalization programs initiated in the late 1980s. The adjustment period—which can mean lower growth while reforms are being implemented—wasn’t that bad, and during the 1990s, Tunisia grew its GDP at around 5% annually. Economic equality, as measured by the Gini coefficient, improved over time as well. But while Tunisia’s policy bureaucrats were on the right track, politically speaking the Tunisian people were going nowhere.
Still, social indicators improved over time and today Tunisia enjoys one of the highest literacy rates in the Arab world. Additionally, gender equality has been a constant hallmark theme for both post-independence regimes. No matter how brutal they may have been against detractors, the Bourguiba and Ben Ali governments truly prioritized development. They reduced infant mortality rates, fought poverty with direct transfers and educational programs, and achieved a high degree of fairness in distribution of welfare resources. In recent years however, the economic and political spheres were becoming entangled, which made for the backwards “separation of powers” set-up that much more difficult to sustain.
After Ben Ali wrestled the presidency from the long-standing Habib Bourguiba, he seemed to be decent on the political liberties front for a few years. He let some Islamists out of jail and tried to co-opt his critics in a 1989 amnesty offer, but soon enough the repression set in with full force. Readership of state-run and self-censored newspapers—arguably an indicator of how much propaganda the masses are willing to stomach—fell in the early 1990s, despite the advances in literacy. Islamists were rounded up and put in jail for political activities. The opposition parties were vetted by their main competitor (Ben Ali) before they could run against him in national elections. Ben Ali, contrary to what some initially thought, was not going to serve as a bridge president: he was in it for good. To this end, he proposed a constitutional referendum to abolish term limits and extend the maximum age for contestants to 75. Some speculated he would be Tunisia’s president for life.
The Coil’s Spring
The main problem with this model of “developmental dictatorship” from my perspective is simple: rising expectations. Take education for example. Under the “authoritarian bargain”—in which the masses received material benefits (government jobs, social services, infrastructure, food and oil subsidies, macroeconomic progress, etc.) in exchange for political accountability—education was free and the quality was fairly good. But the regime’s success in this venture was double-edged. People began to expect jobs commensurate with their higher skill levels upon graduation. The dilemma was that the good jobs tended to be in the public sector because the private sector was underdeveloped for a number of reasons (not least among them was corruption, which foreign investors saw as an impediment to receiving reliable business information necessary for investment). Furthermore, the liberalization programs called for making the public sector more efficient, which often meant cutting back on the number of employees to keep deficits in check.
The government simply could not absorb all the graduates, and in recent years unemployment for some degree-holders stood in the range of 20-30%. Tunisia could not grow fast enough to meet this lack. As a result of these structural problems in the economy and absence of voice in policy matters, Tunisia’s educated youth no longer bought into the “authoritarian bargain,” which political scientists have proposed to explain the lack of democracy in certain authoritarian countries. Thus when Mohammed Bouazizi, an unemployed graduate and street vendor, lit himself on fire in December of 2010, it signalled an end to the politics of compromise. It was no longer worth it for Tunisians to keep quiet.
Today, there is an interim government in Tunis, which despite its shortcomings is more open and legitimate than the previous regime. Elections will be held this fall, and given Tunisia’s strong track record and macroeconomic know-how, it is fairly likely that the country will continue to develop over the next few years both materially and politically.
The initial results of the Arab Spring in Tunisia may be a dent in GDP and temporary bout of instability, but in the long-run the country is considerably more likely to emerge as both a prosperous and fair place for the bulk of its citizens.
Lebanon from the get-go seems like what I imagined before leaving home: a nice blend of Western and Middle Eastern culture. In fact, whoever said the two were mutually exclusive? Upon leaving the airport, one can tell how open the country is and one can sense the relaxed atmosphere—something I was told would happen but didn’t believe until I showed up. Perhaps it’s due to the lack of functional government, not to mention road rules, a Lebanese classmate remarked oh-so-casually after finals week. “Lebanon is a libertarian paradise,” he informed. We’ll have to see about that, I thought.
Perhaps my perception of the cultural climate can be attributed to the fact that no one thinks they own this place. Neither the people nor the politics is homogenous so no one has a monopoly on what “Lebanon” means. Not to mention, no one hassles you—after the obligatory airport-to-hotel taxi driver showdown that is. For example, you can walk around and buy things, like food, so long as it’s a chicken on white bread with garlic and pickles sandwich. I should also mention that people have told me I look Lebanese, which no doubt helps too.
I did a lot of preparation for this trip—my first study abroad experience—so it has proven to be not such a difficult place to get by. I have an internship (more on this later) and a place to stay thanks to my colleague at Carnegie. Food and water of course, and even something resembling a shower, minus the curtain. Hey, what else do I do back home besides read about political-economy on my iPad and sleep anyway? The coffee here is kind of unacceptable though, I should warn. A student’s life it is for sure.
So I feel at home, or at least like I am living my normal life, just in a different political (but not weather) climate. Hey, Florida is hot in summer too. This place doesn’t feel far away from the States geographically speaking either and perhaps that’s why the 3-leg plane ride took only 20 hours (no really, that’s not bad at all). The taxi drive was 20 minutes to downtown and I’ve since seen a few other cities, which like Lebanon I suppose, look far away on the map, but aren’t so distant after all.
If the world is a small place, Lebanon definitely is just one big neighborhood.
Welcome to the block, I can hear it say.