Rage and Ruin: On the Black Panthers

1960s activist Steve Wasserman has a most interesting review essay in The Nation on the recently published Black Against Empire: The History and Politics of the Black Panther Party, by Joshua Bloom and Waldo E. Martin Jr., academic historians both. Wasserman, who knows the subject rather well, is critical of the book, which he says is “about as close to an official history as can be imagined.” Reading the essay brought back memories from my early ’70s gauchiste teen years, when I thought the Black Panthers were cool. I subscribed to the Black Panther Party’s official newspaper for a stretch—and remember well its exalting The Great Leader Kim Il-Sung—and, of course, read Eldridge Cleaver’s Soul on Ice (didn’t everyone?). My main memory from that is Cleaver recounting his pre-revolutionary youth, when he would rape black women as practice for raping white women. Nice.

On Cleaver, who was the BPP’s “minister of information,” Wasserman writes

Cleaver was regarded by many of the younger recruits within the party as their Malcolm X. A strong advocate of working with progressive whites, Cleaver was a man of large appetites, an anarchic and ribald spirit who relished his outlaw status. After years in prison, he was hellbent on making up for lost time and wasn’t about to kowtow to anyone—neither to Ronald Reagan, whom he mocked mercilessly, nor, as it would turn out, to Huey Newton. He was the joker in the Panther deck and a hard act to follow. Like so many of the Panthers’ leaders, he had killer looks, inhabiting his own skin with enviable ease. (The erotic aura that the Panthers presented was a not inconsiderable part of their appeal, as any of the many photographs that were taken of them show. And in this department, Huey was the Supreme Leader, and he never let you forget it.) Eldridge was the biggest mouth in a party of big mouths. He especially loved invective and adored the sound of his own voice, delivered in a sly baritone drawl. He was a gifted practitioner of the rhetoric of denunciation, favoring such gems as “fascist mafioso” and given to vilifying the United States, at every turn, as “Babylon.” He was a master of misogynist pith, uttering the imperishable “revolutionary power grows out of the lips of a pussy.” He was fond of repeating, as if it were a personal mantra: “He could look his momma in the eye and lie.” He was notorious in elite Bay Area movement circles for his many and persistent infidelities and for his physical abuse of his equally tough-talking and beautiful wife, Kathleen. About these failures, however, a curtain of silence was drawn. He was, all in all, a hustler who exuded charm and menace in equal measure.

I wasn’t too crazy about Cleaver—who, pour mémoire, converted to Mormonism in the 1980s and became a conservative Republican—but thought Huey Newton was pretty good, particularly after watching him on William Buckley’s Firing Line in 1973 (YouTube excerpt here). But Newton was as much a thug as Cleaver and which Wasserman reminds us of in quoting later published accounts of BPP members—but which Bloom and Martin leave out of their book. They leave a lot out, it seems

You won’t learn from Bloom and Martin the hard truth about Flores Forbes, a trusted enforcer for Newton, a stalwart of the party’s Orwellian “Board of Methods and Corrections,” and a member of what Newton called his “Buddha Samurai,” a praetorian guard made up of men willing to follow orders unquestioningly and do the “stern stuff.” Forbes joined the party at 15 and wasted no time becoming a zombie for Huey. Forbes was bright and didn’t have to be told; he knew when to keep his mouth shut. He well understood the “right to initiative,” a term Forbes tells us “was derived from our reading and interpretation of Wretched of the Earth by Frantz Fanon.” What Forbes took Fanon to mean was “that it is the oppressed people’s right to believe that they should kill their oppressor in order to obtain their freedom. We just modified it somewhat to mean anyone who’s in our way,” like inconvenient witnesses who might testify against Newton, or Panthers who’d run afoul of Newton and needed to be “mud-holed”—battered and beaten to a bloody pulp. Newton no longer favored Mao’s Little Red Book, preferring Mario Puzo’s The Godfather, which he extolled for its protagonists’ Machiavellian cunning and ruthlessness. Nor will you learn from Bloom and Martin how Newton admired Melvin van Peebles’s Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song, the tale of a hustler who becomes a revolutionary. Military regalia was out, swagger sticks were in. Newton dropped the rank of minister of defense. Some days he wanted to be called “Supreme Commander,” other days “Servant of the People” or, usually, just “Servant.” But to fully understand Huey’s devolution, you’d have to run Peebles’s picture backward, as the story of a revolutionary who becomes a hustler.

The political consciousness of the BPP cadres was clearly not raised during their period in Algiers, the world capital of tiersmondisme back then. For the anecdote, an Algerian-in-the-know told me stories some two decades ago about the BPP’s Algiers years (1969 to ’71 or thereabouts). The Algerians were initially thrilled to receive Cleaver and other Panthers (Algeria and the US did not have diplomatic relations at the time), who were set up in a villa in a nice neighborhood (probably Hydra) and supplied with resources, including women (i.e. prostitutes on the state payroll). But the Panthers quickly became a problem for the Algerians, with their loud parties—Algiers is a sleepy city after dark—, doing drugs, trying to pick up women in public… Instead of getting bona fide American revolutionaries, the Algerians got American urban voyous. The 1954-62 FLN had its share of voyous but also advanced political leadership. The BPP had a lot of the former but little of the latter. So the Algerian authorities quietly encouraged the Panthers to move on—and which they did (as they must have been bored out of their minds in Algiers; if one doesn’t speak French or Arabic and has little interest in Algeria, it would be a deadly dull place to live in).

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La Confrèrie, enquête sur les Frères musulmans

France 3 a eu un documentaire très intéressant hier soir sur le mouvement des Frères musulmans—en Egypte et à travers le monde—, écrit et réalisé par Michaël Prazan. Je le recommende vivement. On peut le regarder ici pendant une semaine.

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Le Premier Homme

Voilà some publicity for Harvard University Press’s recent publication of Albert Camus’s Algerian Chronicles—a compilation of Camus’s essays and letters on Algeria from the 1930s through the ’50s—, translated into English by Arthur Goldhammer—of French Politics blogging fame (and who has been translating French social science and humanities since my college days)—and edited and introduced by Alice Kaplan (reviews here and here). On the subject of Camus—whose birth centennial is this November 7th—I recently saw the cinematic adaptation of his unfinished autobiographical novel Le Premier Homme (in English, The First Man), by Italian director Gianni Amelio. I liked the novel—and more than any other I’ve read by Camus, including L’Étranger and La Peste—, in particular for its vivid imagery of lower-class pied-noir life in Algiers in the 1910s and ’20s. The film closely follows Camus’s childhood such as depicted in the novel via the character of Jacques Cormery and with flash-forwards to the 1950s—of Cormery’s return to Algiers during the war—, scenes that weren’t in the novel. Technically the film—which was entirely shot in Algeria (mainly in Algiers and Mostaganem) and employed Benjamin Stora as historical adviser—is impeccable. Nice to watch. But it doesn’t work. This is one of those novels that cannot be adapted to the screen. And if one has not read it—and is not aware that Jacques Cormery is Albert Camus (and does not know too much about Camus or Algérie française)—, the film will make no sense at all. So if you haven’t read the book—and are not familiar with France’s history in Algeria—, do not see the movie; you will be wasting your time. Gianni Amelio directed two very good films in the ’90s, ‘Il ladro di bambini‘ and ‘Lamerica‘, so I had somewhat high expectations for this one. Oh well. US reviews are here and here, French reviews here, and the NYT review of the book here.

Needless to say, the film was not a box office hit in France. I saw it on the first Saturday night after its opening and in a big Paris multiplex. The salle was well over half empty. Un échec annoncé. As I’ve said before, the French movie-going public is simply not interested in Algeria, post- or pre-1962.

À propos, another movie about Algérie française—and likewise based on a novel by a major author—opened in France last fall: ‘Ce que le jour doit à la nuit’, from Yasmina Khadra’s eponymous 2008 novel (in English: What the Day Owes the Night), which I have not read. This director of this one was the middle to lowbrow Alexandre Arcady, juif d’Algérie who is not precisely known for making films d’auteur. I hesitated on seeing it and despite the compelling subject matter, in view of its 2 hour 40 minute length and the fact that Arcady has never done anything that could remotely be called a chef d’œuvre, but decided to take the plunge (Saturday AM matinee) before it disappeared from the salles. I’ll let Le Monde’s Noémie Luciani—who liked the pic more than did other French critics—describe it

Dans l’Algérie des années 1930, Younes, 9 ans, est recueilli par son oncle et sa tante et rebaptisé Jonas. Elevé par ce couple peu ordinaire (Mohamed est musulman, Madeleine chrétienne), Jonas grandit à Oran puis à Rio Salado, véritable jardin d’Eden où la vie est douce et lente, jusqu’à ce qu’Emilie n’amène les premières violences de l’amour, et l’Histoire les premiers feux de la guerre.

Adapté du roman à succès de Yasmina Khadra, Ce que le jour doit à la nuit est une fresque monumentale dans tous les sens du terme. Reconstitution détaillée à l’extrême, musique grandiose, mise en scène toute dans l’ampleur, jusqu’aux orages, qui répondent avec un mimétisme verlainien aux émotions : que Jonas perde un instant le goût de vivre, et “il pleure dans son coeur comme il pleut sur la ville”.

Ce totalitarisme de moyens, s’il est indéniablement l’expression vibrante d’un amour fou du réalisateur pour le livre auquel il offre un monde visible, a ses charmes et ses limites. D’un côté l’élégance du décor, la belle musique d’Armand Amar, une intelligence remarquable du rythme, tenant de bout en bout l’histoire sur presque trois heures de film.

De l’autre, l’explicite imposant, le poids des fatalités trop visibles, la place ténue de l’humour. Surtout, le jeu d’acteurs enivrés de se voir devenus Rhett et Scarlett, Juliette et Roméo : exalté, plus rarement exaltant, tout en grands gestes, grands mots, grands yeux noyés de larmes. Fu’ad Aït Aattou (Younes/Jonas) : la gravité un peu appuyé de la voix, le port de tête. Nora Arnezeder (Emilie) : le sourire lentement construit pour illuminer, un peu trop lent à venir. Anne Parillaud (madame Cazenave, la mère d’Emilie) : la démarche alanguie, la diction lourdement sensuelle, les tics de séductrice aguerrie.

On hésite à leur autoriser tant de fards : peut-être faut-il autant pour que l’histoire ait moins à voir avec le commun amour qu’avec le mythe. Peut-être avons-nous perdu l’habitude. Dans le doute, être un peu plus crédule, glisser sur certains traits. Tout travaillé qu’il soit, tout alourdi d’art qu’il peut être, Ce que le jour doit à la nuit garde au coeur un souffle romantique volé à l’Hollywood des heures anciennes : naïf et flamboyant à son image, emportant furieusement tout ce que l’on consentira à lui laisser prendre – l’amour, le feu, la guerre…

A ‘Gone With the Wind’ in the waning days of Algérie française (for a synopsis of the pic in English—there are as yet no reviews from the US or UK—, go here). One gets the general idea. The film is melodramatic and maudlin, i.e. it’s schlock. But… I was thoroughly entertained (as were others who saw it, to judge by Allociné’s audience ratings; though, as befitting films in France with an Algeria theme, it was a box office failure). It’s a grand spectacle and in which the director pulls out all the stops (trailer here). So for this one I suspended critical judgment and decided to just take it in (it’s also hard for me to give the total thumbs down to a film on Algeria whose historical adviser was the incontournable, inévitable Benjamin Stora). As it will likely not be making it outre-Atlantique or outre-Manche anytime soon, the only way to see it will be via streaming (if one requires English subtitles, that might be a problem).

There was a special projection of the film in Algiers last October, which was the subject of an amusing reportage by El Watan’s Chawki Amari, “Le film d’Arcady n’a pas réconcilié les Algériens.” The lede

«Ce que le jour doit à la nuit», le film d’Alexandre Arcady, tiré du chef-d’œuvre de Yasmina Khadra, a été projeté à Alger sur fond de rivalités entre des ministres et de rumeurs sur la mort du président Bouteflika. Récit cinématographique.

Among other things, one learns that Arcady’s film, despite the sponsorship of the Algerian Ministry of Culture, failed to receive the necessary authorizations in time, so had to be shot in Tunisia. Une histoire algérienne. Amari’s article, which is quite funny—I was cracking up while reading it—, will be appreciated by those who know Algeria well.

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Understanding terrorism

Journalist Kremena Krumova of Epoch Times—a publication that is new to me—has a useful “guide to understanding terrorism” and with good quotes by specialists (two of whom I know personally).

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Le Repenti

I just saw this terrific film by Merzak Allouache (English title: ‘The Repentant’; in Arabic: التائب). It is Allouache’s best film ever IMO and one of the best ever to come out of Algeria (and is certainly the best ever Algerian-directed film with a political theme). The “repentant” is a young Islamist fighter who, benefiting from the 1999 law conferring amnesty on members of armed Islamist groups (and updated in 2005), flees the maquis, turns himself into the authorities—who press him into being an informer—, and tries to reintegrate into civilian life, while seeking to settle an affair from his years as a guerrilla/terrorist, the details of which are only revealed toward the end. It’s a riveting film and with an excellent screenplay that bears out the complexity of the Algerian sale guerre—of armed Islamists vs. the Algerian state—of the past two decades. There are no caricatures, either with the characters or the politics. And the acting is first-rate, as is the cinematography (it’s set in the western High Plateau, mainly in El Bayadh).

I normally pay no attention to reviews of Algerian films, as the critics (French, American, etc) lack the requisite knowledge of Algeria to properly assess what they’ve seen. And this one presents additional challenges, as any description of the plot will almost inevitably contain spoilers (as did, e.g., Le Monde’s review, which basically gave the whole thing away). The pic has been reviewed by two American critics, who saw it at Cannes last year; one, from The Hollywood Reporter, was off-the-wall; the other review, by Jay Weissberg in Variety, absolutely, totally nailed it. It’s an excellent review and tells the reader precisely what s/he needs to know about the film, and without spoilers. I couldn’t have written it better myself. Here it is

A beautifully made, deeply emotional drama that catches auds up in its troubled protags’ lives, all the way to a staggering finale.

After several misfires, Merzak Allouache delivers not just his best film of the past decade, but arguably his best in 36 years in the helmer’s seat. Tracking a former jihadist and a separated couple whose lives were destroyed five years earlier, “The Repentant” is a beautifully made, deeply emotional drama that catches auds up in its troubled protags’ lives, all the way to a staggering finale. Though cinema is awash in Islamic fundamentalist themes, Allouache goes beyond mere issues with his intimate approach and narrowed focus. This is one Algerian movie that could finally see worldwide exposure, including Stateside.

Allouache not only strips the story down to basics but reduces the exposition: Background details are spare, and what’s not said is more powerful than what is. This suppression is tied to the helmer’s message of a country paralyzed by a self-imposed gag order, in which the past remains an unbearable weight that cannot be discussed. But as “The Repentant” demonstrates, the past is very much alive, and a refusal to confront it head-on allows fear, corruption, and fanaticism to thrive.

In the late 1990s, the Algerian government attempted to end years of terrorism by offering jihadists amnesty. Islamic fighters came down from their hideouts, registered with the authorities as “repentants,” and were integrated into society. Rachid (Nabil Asli) runs away from his fundamentalist compatriots in the mountain and reports to the cops; the police chief, Redouane (Mohamed Takiret), gets him a job with embittered cafe owner Salah (Hacene Benzerari), and Rachid appears to be fitting into normal life.

Then, he meets pharmacist Lakhdar (Khaled Benaissa). What actually transpires between these two isn’t seen or heard: first a one-sided phone call that visibly upsets Lakhdar, then a meeting that isn’t shown. What’s clear is Lakhdar’s intense isolation: He lives in a bare apartment, drinking copious amounts of wine and watching Chinese television at night, though presumably he doesn’t understand the language. Like everything else in his life, the boob tube merely fills the hours, since Lakhdar’s only engagement is with his inner demons.

After meeting Rachid, he calls his ex-wife, Djamila (Adila Bendimerad), who angrily makes the long drive to see him. They exude tension when together, uncertain how to behave and unsure if the chasm between them can be bridged. When she snaps that she can’t go back to the same hell as five years earlier, he replies, “Go back? I’m still in it.” They tensely wait for Rachid to call again, yet Allouache withholds explanation of how these three fit together until late in the film. Before the wrenching finale (bring hankies), all that’s clear is that Djamila and Lakhdar had a daughter who died five years earlier.

Many of Allouache’s films express disheartened concern over the rise of fundamentalism (“Bab el Oued City,” “The Other World”), but in “The Repentant,” possibly for the first time, he’s fully engaged with a jihadist’s psyche. Rachid’s escape from his Islamist life is real, and his desire for re-entry into society feels genuine. He has a childlike appreciation of the world around him, yet there’s something else that prevents him from fully assimilating; his denial of past atrocities isn’t convincing, and a skirmish with a revenge-seeker reveals an animal-like violence that’s never far from the surface. On one level, Rachid really may be sorry for what he did, but his personality shift following inculcation into the cult of terrorism can’t be completely buried.

All three leads deliver perfs of stunning emotional depth and complexity, quietly embodying the conflicts raging within. Only Djamila explodes, and when she does, Bendimerad’s expression of rage and grief is devastating. Young d.p. Mohamed Tayeb Laggoune displays a firm control of his handheld camera, appropriately responding to emotions onscreen. Visuals reflect the story’s intimacy while capturing the region’s empty landscape, whose vastness can feel crushing.

The film has unfortunately—thought not unexpectedly—not been a box office hit in France. It opened in Paris 2½ weeks ago and is fading fast. The French highbrow movie-going public—the kind that goes to see non-French and non-Hollywood films—is not interested in Algeria (pre- or post-1962), no matter how well-reviewed the film may be. But Algerian-origin audiences in France aren’t interested either. With the exception of Rachid Bouchareb’s ‘Indigènes‘—which was as much about France as it was Algeria—every last movie with an Algerian theme has either been a box office failure in France or simply not found its public, including in the immigrant population. E.g. one not too bad Algerian film I saw back in 2006, ‘Barakat!’, I was the only person in the theater (and which was in the Latin Quarter no less). Algerians are just not a cinema-going people, and certainly not serious cinema (I know I’ll get into trouble with some for saying this but I don’t care, because it’s true). There are hardly any cinemas in Algeria and most that exist are for young males only—adults and women do not set foot in them—and show trash. And that culture carries over into the immigrant community in France. And when Algerians do go to the movies, they show little to no interest in movies by Algerian directors. C’est dommage.

But if French and Algerians are not going to see ‘Le Repenti’, Americans and others should. So if you have a chance to see it, do so. You won’t regret it. Et si vous êtes à Paris, voici les séances actuellement.

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Horses of God

I’ve been intending to write about this very good Moroccan film I saw last month, which has as its subject jihadist terrorism and the socio-political terrain that spawns it. It’s set in the sprawling Sidi Moumen shantytown on the periphery of Casablanca—the pic wasn’t shot there but sure looks like it was—and follows a gang of boys from mid childhood to their early 20s, in particular two brothers, Yacine and Hamid, who are the film’s protags. The early scenes, set precisely in 1994, are straight out of ‘Los Olvidados’ or ‘Pixote’, of the world of slum boys and its destitution and violence, and with Hamid the exceptionally wild, violent one. Jump to 1999 and Hamid, now in his teens, has become a drugged-out, alcohol-drinking voyou, who turns over the proceeds of his thievery and thuggishness to his mother, who doesn’t ask questions as to where the money comes from (the father is a catatonic invalid, sitting in front of the television all day). Morocco’s bas-fonds. This is not Anfa (Casa’s Beverly Hills) or the social stratum of ‘Marock‘. Hamid eventually gets arrested and is sentenced to two years in prison, during which time Yacine, who is more sage, gets an honest job in a shantytown repair shop. When Hamid returns to Sidi Moumen he is inevitably sporting a beard and has become calm and soft-spoken, as he found religion in prison, i.e. became a salafist. Of course. He then sets about converting older brother Yacine—initially reluctant—and boyhood friends into takfirist salafism, of which there is a cell in Sidi Moumen.

What happens in the film is fairly predictable and I’d pretty much seen it all before, notably in Philippe Faucon’s first-rate ‘La Désintégration‘, which is set in a cité in France and among the offspring of mainly Moroccan immigrants. ‘Les Chevaux de Dieu’ is essentially ‘La Désintégration’ set in the bidonvilles of Morocco’s cities (though the mother in the former pic is a rather less sympathetic character than in the latter). But this is not to diminish or denigrate the film. Director Nabil Ayouch did a very good job across the board, in the casting (all amateurs) and depicting the world of Morocco’s shantytowns, whose inhabitants are entirely excluded from society—the boys had never ventured into the center of Casablanca until their recruitment into the jihadist cell—and where the state is almost entirely absent, save for the occasional police raid (and carried out with the usual brutality). There are no public services, no schools in sight, no anything that comes from the state except for repression. Above all, Ayouch nailed it in portraying the mechanisms by which young men from the slums are indoctrinated into radical Islamism, through material incentives, peer pressure, offers one can’t refuse, and doses of brainwashing, and where the jihadist cell ringleaders are violent criminals for whom the young recruits are nothing more than cannon fodder for their suicide terror attacks and other acts of iniquity. Once inside a jihadist cell—which is a religious cult cum criminal enterprise—there is no exit, and one does not decline invitations to participate in a “martyrdom” operation. The film climaxes with the May 16 2003 terrorist bombings in Casablanca (and with the Sidi Moumen boys sent to the Casa de España restaurant in the city center). Hamid has états d’âme and tries to find a way out (and to persuade brother Yacine) but there’s no way. One way or the other, it’s near certain death.

This is one of those films with which I was increasingly impressed as it moved along, and particularly in thinking about it afterward. French reviews are good (with spectators on Allociné rating it even higher than the critics). Variety’s Jay Weissberg and The Hollywood Reporter also gave it the thumbs up. It is recommended to anyone interested in the question of jihadist terrorism and particularly for courses taught on the general subject. Pedagogically it’s very good, indeed one of the best on the subject. And on the subject—on reading to accompany the film—, I recommend academic specialist Selma Belaala’s pertinent 2004 article “Morocco: slums breed jihad.”

For the record, I will briefly mention another film, ‘Goodbye Morocco’, that I saw just after ‘Les Chevaux de Dieu’. As the title suggests it’s set in Morocco (Tangier), though the director, Nadir Moknèche, is Algerian. I’ll let Hollywood Reporter‘s critic introduce it

Writer-director Nadir Moknèche’s superior multicultural drama weaves together a dark tangle of subplots about art theft, infidelity, kidnapping, murder and immigration. Inspired by real events, this multi-layered suspense thriller is part murder mystery, part film noir and part dysfunctional love triangle.

Screen Daily‘s critic is on the same page

An impressively steamy and complex mystery thriller, apparently inspired by real events, writer/director Nadir Moknèche’s nicely shot film, which had its world premiere at the Doha Tribeca International Film Festival is a classily made film…

Variety’s critic, who also gave it thumbs up, aptly called it “[a]n eminently watchable curiosity.” Yes, definitely watchable. French reviews, though a notch below the aforediscussed pic, are good. It may not be worth venturing across town to see but one may definitely do so chez soi on DVD or streaming.

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The Marseille pogrom

Marseille 1973

In 1973. Before I get to that, a few words about a story that has been all over Israeli and (mainly right-wing) Jewish websites the past three days, of an apparent physical aggression perpetrated against Israeli filmmaker Yariv Horowitz on Thursday in Aubagne—just outside Marseille—, where he was attending a film festival (and where his film ‘Rock the Casbah’ won an award). The apparent aggression occurred at an ATM and, so reported Israeli news sources—including Haaretz, Ynetnews, and The Times of Israel—, was committed by a group of “Arabs” and who knocked Horowitz unconscious. Ynetnews headlined its Facebook post of the dispatch with one word: Anti-Semitism.

Sounded bad except that I was immediately dubious about the story, not that something didn’t happen—I didn’t imagine that Horowitz would have made it up—but of the details as reported in the Israeli media. First, there was nothing at all on it in the French media, which would not have ignored the incident—au contraire—had it happened the way the Israelis were reporting it. It would have been a news story, and likely a big one. Secondly, I wondered how Horowitz—who did not report the alleged assault to the police or even seek medical care—and his friend knew that the assailants were Arabs (or of Arab origin, as they were most certainly French). Thirdly—and regarding the inevitable mention of anti-Semitism—I rhetorically asked (a) how the alleged assailants could have known that Horowitz was a Jew and (b) why the latter assumed he was attacked for this reason. In the news reports there was nothing to suggest that the incident had a Jew-hating character.

But now we have more information on the incident, via the Aubagne film festival organizers and as reported in the Marseille daily La Provence. Nothing happened the way the Israeli websites reported. Horowitz received exactly one punch, but which did not seriously hurt him. The perpetrator was a minor and whose ethnic identity—as if it matters—was undetermined. There was no indication that he was of Arab origin and the incident clearly had nothing to do with Horowitz being Jewish. This was not a hate crime. Horowitz quickly rejoined the festivities. The incident should have never been the subject of a news story, let alone one with such incendiary allegations. I was going to do a longer post on it but see that blogger Ali Abunimah—who knows the French language, or has a collaborator who does—has already done the spade work and rubbished the story (here and here) as it was reported in the Israeli media. So will the Israeli websites that spread the disinformation—and particularly Haaretz, from which one expects higher professional standards—retract and apologize to their readers?

As for the title of this post—which is not entirely irrelevant to what I’ve written above—, the website Oumma.com has a post with a 55 minute documentary that aired in 2006 on Canal+, “Marseille 1973: les ratonnades oubliées.” In English: ‘Marseille 1973: the forgotten ratonnades‘. There is only one way to translate ratonnade, which is “pogrom against Algerians.” The etymology of the word: raton means ‘little rat’,which was one of the racist terms for Algerian Muslims during the French colonial era, and during which time Europeans settlers and soldiers periodically carried out bloody ratonnades. In the summer and fall of 1973 there was a wave of racist attacks on the sizable Algerian immigrant community in Marseille—with eleven murdered at random during the month of August alone—, culminating in the December 14th terror bombing in front of the Algerian consulate (causing four deaths and dozens injured—many seriously—among the Algerian immigrants waiting in line outside). Only one of the murderers was arrested and tried—receiving a five-year suspended sentence… All the other murder cases were classé sans suite, i.e. closed with no further action. Marseille at the time—and it was hardly unique in that part of France—had a significant population of repatriated pieds-noirs—a certain number of whom had been in the terrorist OAS (the KKK of Algérie française in its dying days)—, as well as military personnel who had served in Algeria during the war. Revanchists of Algérie française—with their violent hatred of Algerian Muslims—were present in force in the city’s institutions, and notably the police, judicial system, and right-wing press organs (most of the racists were on the right—including the recently founded Front National—but some were in the local Socialist party). Marseille was akin to a Mississippi town during the Jim Crow era, and with Algerians and other Maghrebis as the Blacks. What happened in Marseille in 1973 was a pogrom, even if the murders were committed by small groups of men and not rampaging mobs. There is no other word to describe it. I knew the history of this well but hadn’t seen the documentary. It’s very good. Do watch it.

It is, among other things, a reminder that the greatest victims of racist hatred in France over the past six decades have been Maghrebis, not Jews. Anti-Semitism was, of course, a scourge in France through the mid 20th century—and culminating in the collaboration of the French state with the Nazis in the deportation of Jews to the death camps—but it must be mentioned for the record that, with the exception of the Nazi occupation, not a single Jew in metropolitan France, from the Dreyfus Affair to the present day, suffered violent death in a manifest hate crime (in fact, I am not aware of any Jews being killed even in the unoccupied zone in the 1940-42 period). Such has not been the case with Algerians, needless to say. During stretches of the 1960s Algerians were murdered in hate crimes somewhere in France at the rate of almost one a week. And it didn’t end with the Marseille ratonnades of 1973. Just a historical reminder. Again, if one’s French is up to it, do watch the documentary.

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Affaire Merah : itinéraire d’un tueur

[mise à jour ci-dessous] [2ème mise à jour ci-dessous]

France 3 a eu un bon documentaire hier soir sur l’Affaire Mohamed Merah, et qui complémente celui de M6 du novembre dernier. Voici le synopsis

Le 22 mars 2012, la France est sous le choc, effarée par les tueries commises par un certain Mohamed Merah. En pleine campagne présidentielle, les Français découvrent avec stupeur que le monstre, tueur d’enfants, est un jeune de la banlieue toulousaine, à peine âgé de 23 ans.

Qui est-il vraiment et comment en est-il arrivé à tuer sept personnes de sang-froid?

Pendant plus de six mois, les auteurs de ce film ont rencontré des dizaines de témoins de l’affaire, proches de l’enquête. Ils ont eu accès à des documents exclusifs pour tenter de comprendre ce qui, dans l’histoire de ce petit délinquant de banlieue, a pu provoquer un tel passage à l’acte.

Pour la première fois, sa famille et ses amis ont accepté de participer, permettant de mieux cerner la personnalité de Mohamed Merah.

Ainsi, les auteurs ont pu reconstituer, année après année, les différentes étapes de sa vie : la cité, la prison, les voyages, qui ont pu le mener à commettre ces atrocités.

Ces crimes sont-ils l’oeuvre d’un fou ou bien celle d’un fanatique religieux? Quels étaient ses liens avec la mouvance islamiste ? Quel rôle a joué sa famille ? Etait-il un “indic” manipulé par les services de renseignement?

Autant de questions auxquelles ce documentaire tente de répondre à la suite d’une enquête minutieuse et d’une investigation sociale, dévoilant les failles d’un système judiciaire et les “loupés” de la police (DCRI + PJ) qui ont empêché de neutraliser Mohamed Merah plus tôt. Les révélations contenues dans ce film vont souvent à contre-courant des versions officielles.

De Toulouse au Pakistan, en passant par le Moyen-Orient, ce documentaire retrace tout l’itinéraire de Mohamed Merah, depuis la petite enfance jusqu’aux meurtres de 2012.

On peut regarder le documentaire ici.

MISE À JOUR: Oumma.com, site un tantinet orienté, a publié un “décryptage” du documentaire.

2ème MISE À JOUR: Voilà la une du Monde aujourd’hui (10 mars) : “Mohamed Merah a été repéré par les renseignements dès 2006.”

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Inside the FLN

Full title: Inside the FLN: The Paris Massacre and the French Intelligence Service. This is a new, unpublished monograph by historian Neil MacMaster on the events of October 17, 1961 (which I’ve posted on here and here), and that may be downloaded here. Haven’t read it yet but it looks most interesting. MacMaster is the leading historian in the English-speaking world of this dark episode in modern French history, and one of the top ones of France and colonial Algeria more generally. Among his books are Colonial Migrants and Racism: Algerians in France, 1900-62; Paris 1961: Algerians, State Terror, and Memory (co-authored with Jim House); and Burning the Veil: The Algerian War and the ‘Emancipation’ of Muslim Women, 1954–62 (disclosure: I have a long overdue review of this to write). All excellent and must reads for anyone interested in the subject.

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Tariq Ramadan’s Arab winter

Photo credit: Sia Kambou / AFP

In my January 27th post on France’s Mali intervention I linked to a tribune by a Senegalese academic, Bakary Sambe, who skewered Tariq Ramadan for his opposition to the said intervention, and where I referred to the celebrated Egyptian-Swiss philosopher as an “overrated bloviator.” I am not a fan of the très médiatique Ramadan, needless to say, though used to have a positive image of him, taking him to be a moderate, modernist Islamic thinker based on numerous op-ed type articles he published over the years in the French press, plus flattering portraits of him that appeared here and there (I never did bother to read his books, which mainly focus on Islamic thought, not a subject of great interest to me and who has the time?). I also did not (and do not) care for some of Ramadan’s high-profile detractors in France and the US (e.g. Caroline Fourest, Paul Berman, Daniel Pipes), who have been engaged in an obsessive vendetta against him for years. And I considered indefensible his temporary banning from France in the mid ’90s—over which I initiated a letter of protest by MESA to then interior minister Jean-Louis Debré—and exclusion from the US during the Bush administration.

But after seeing TR up close—for the first time some five years ago, in a classroom talk—and exchanging a few words with him, I decided that he is a slick, smooth-talking self-promoter, who wows audiences with his affability, eloquence—he can give a one-hour talk in flawless English, with no notes and without skipping a beat—, and dapper good looks but ultimately says little of substance. And his answers to questions on politics and social issues during a Q&A are for the most part langue de bois (e.g. I asked him to give his assessment of the AKP government in Turkey—which had been in power for five years—, to which responded something to the effect that “What is happening in Turkey is very interesting and we need to follow it closely and see where it’s going”… Not terribly deep or enlightening). He’s a friendly fundamentalist, adapting his discourse to the circumstance. He does not, however, merit the demonization to which he has been subjected by Fourest, Berman et al—he’s not significant enough—, but nor does he merit the celebrity he’s attained beyond his following among youthful pious European Muslim post-migrants (and notably by European policy makers anxiously seeking European Muslim interlocutors). Intellectually and politically speaking, TR does not impress me.

And I do find his apologetics for the Muslim Brotherhood disturbing, not to mention his views and equivocations on a host of other issues.

I bring all this up as I read just the other day a review essay in TNR, dated October 1, 2012, of Ramadan’s latest book, in which he offers analysis and commentary on the so-called Arab spring. Reviewer Samuel Helfont, a Near Eastern Studies Ph.D. candidate at Princeton, was not impressed, taking to task Ramadan’s “problematic views,” “sloppy analysis and inconsistencies,” and “contorted arguments and anti-imperialist platitudes,” all of which are quite simply “not serious.” Very good. Couldn’t have said it better myself, even though I haven’t read the book (and have no intention of).

While I’m at it, here is a tribune I also read recently, by the Franco-Tunisian intellectual Abdelwahab Meddeb—a political and philosophical enemy of TR’s (the two have publicly crossed swords)—, “Towards A Global Network of Liberal Muslims,” that was first published three weeks ago in a Bangladeshi newspaper. Excellent initiative.

I mentioned Daniel Pipes as one of TR’s detractors. Pipes is no dummy when it comes to subjects of which he is a specialist but is politically reactionary and a crackpot on a number of issues (e.g. flirting with Obama birtherism, obsessively trying to “prove” that Obama is a Muslim, situating himself well to the right of Netanyahu on the Israeli political spectrum). I generally don’t touch him with a ten-foot pole. Which is not to say I don’t read him every so often. The other day I came across an interview with him in the current issue of The American Spectator, on “Islam and Islamism in the Modern World,” and which is surprisingly unobjectionable for the most part. I give it the green light.

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The Mali intervention – II

That was quite a reception François Hollande received in Bamako and Timbuktu yesterday. Looked like the entire population of the two cities turned out to greet him and as their savior (see here, here, and here). The Baghdad victory parade Bush and Cheney could only dream of. This was hardly a FrançAfrique intervention of bygone days, with the French sending a battalion of legionnaires to prop up a client dictator facing internal contestation. I certainly felt gratified by the scènes de liesse. The Mali intervention has so far gone off without a hitch. Moreover, who would have expected two weeks ago that not only would Timbuktu already be liberated from the yoke of the Ansar Eddine and AQIM psychos but that the French would be in control of Kidal’s airport? Pace my blogging confrère Art Goldhammer, who appears unimpressed, this is a huge success for Hollande and will no doubt modify his image among a certain number of his compatriots (à propos, note the pertinent comments by Massilian and Myos in the thread of Art’s post), not to mention outside France. I doubt we’ll be hearing too many references to “Flanby” henceforth, or cutting remarks on him being indecisive.

There has notably been no triumphalism on Hollande’s part nor any declarations of “mission accomplished.” Everyone knows the thing isn’t over and that the narco-jihadists—who withdrew from Timbuktu without firing a shot—are out in the desert somewhere, likely holed up in the mountain ranges along the Algerian border. Good. Let them stay there. At some point they’re going to have to come out for supplies, which will be rather more complicated for them than it was for the Taliban after 2001, as there is no Waziristan to fall back on. As I pointed out in my last post—and that political scientist Laura Seay reiterated the other day in FP—, northern Mali is not Pushtunistan and Ansar Eddine & Co are not the Taliban (not in number or hegemony over their areas of ethnic strength). It will take a while to eradicate them, or render them a non-threat to the areas from which they have been driven, but it is definitely an attainable objective, particularly if necessary political process between the government in Bamako and the MNLA yields results.

Hollande and defense minister Jean-Yves Le Drian—with whom I have been impressed (I didn’t have an opinion on him before the intervention)—have been wise in not setting fixed objectives or timetables, and in saying that France will stay “for as long as it takes.”  And while the rhetoric of African soldiers taking over the job is still there, it is pretty obvious that not only is this not going to happen but cannot happen. Soldiers from the ECOWAS states (Niger excepted) not only have no experience operating in the desert but would  also only make the situation worse, as this analysis in Rue89 suggested. African armies are not only not efficient fighting forces but are given over to extreme violence (committing massacres, mistreatment of prisoners) and raping, looting, and pillaging. If soldiers from neighboring African states took over from the French, it would be a fiasco: they would likely get chewed up by the narco-jihadists and the civilian population of northern Mali would very possibly welcome the latter back as liberators. As for the Malian army, it would not be a good idea for it to enter the Tuareg lands (and one notes that the French did not bring the Malians with them to Kidal). So it’s a French job to the end (and with the Algerians discreetly doing their part).

Early critics of the Mali intervention have been laying low the past week. Algerians on social networks have been reacting with bad humor to Hollande’s victory parade yesterday, so reports Akram Belkaïd. In case anyone didn’t see it, the normally excellent Africanist Stephen Smith had an article on the Mali intervention, dated January 24th, in the LRB. Smith knows the region—not to mention French policy there—better than just about anyone but I was somewhat underwhelmed by the piece. It’s not one of his best. He pulls his punches and avoids taking a clear position one way or the other. I was pleased to note that he makes some of the same points I did in my post of a week ago, particularly on the FrançAfrique, but it is preposterous to suggest that Hollande’s action may have been linked to his domestic political standing and low poll ratings. Not even Hollande’s UMP adversaries have (yet) alleged this. But if Hollande does start to rise a little in the polls, ça ne va pas tarder.

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The Mali intervention

It’s been over two weeks since France launched its intervention in Mali, which I’ve been following closely and have been intending to write about, but haven’t gotten around to until now. And as all sorts of people more knowledgeable than I have been on the story and weighing in with analyses and commentary, I was wondering if I had anything original to add. But then, numerous persons not more knowledgeable than I (of which more below) have also been tossing out their opinions and on high-profile websites, so if they can, pourquoi pas moi? And a few faithful readers have indeed asked what I think of the French action—and about the situation in Mali more generally (on which I posted three times last year)—, so voilà, here’s my two cents.

• First, François Hollande did the right thing in sending French troops to Mali en catastrophe, with the sudden, unanticipated Ansar Eddine/AQIM/MUJWA offensive across the demarcation line, seizure of Konna, and the manifest goal of the Islamist fanatics to seize the airport at Sevaré and then advance on Mopti just down the road. This would have been a disaster and could not be allowed to happen, so Hollande had no choice but to act illico. The narco-jihadists had to be stopped and quickly. If they had taken Mopti—Mali’s second city—it would have been a cakewalk to Bamako in view of the worse than pitiful state of the Malian army. Now it is possible that Ansar Eddine & Co would not have advanced on Bamako, as argued by Andrew McGregor of The Jamestown Foundation: fighting in southern Mali and trying to occupy Bamako and its hostile population would have been too tall an order for the Tuaregs and their non-Malian allies, and of which they were no doubt well aware. Perhaps. But this couldn’t be left to chance, and certainly not with the thousands of French and other European expatriates in the capital. The French would have had absolutely no choice but to intervene had an assault on Bamako come to pass but the costs would have been infinitely greater than they are now.
• A narco-jihadist takeover of Bamako—and thus the entire country—and the consequent collapse of the Malian state would have been a catastrophe of the first order. First, the humanitarian consequences, of the huge numbers of civilians killed and the even huger number of refugees fleeing to neighboring states, some of these only recently exiting from major instability or civil wars of their own (Ivory Coast, Guinea, Liberia, Sierra Leone). And, as is too well-known, the presence of large numbers of war refugees in an African state can only engender instability and very big problems—humanitarian, political—in that state. Secondly, once ensconced in Bamako—and after the inevitable bloodbath and destruction—there would be no getting Ansar Eddine and its Al-Qaida allies out of there. Bamako would become a Kabul circa 1998 (or perhaps 1992-96, when rival groups fought each other and destroyed the city in the process). Thirdly, it wouldn’t end there. A Mali turned into an Afghanistan circa 1996-2001—and with Al-Qaida in the saddle—would be a grave threat to its neighbors—most with weak states and armies no stronger than Mali’s—, particularly Guinea, Mauritania, Niger, Burkina Faso, the Ivory Coast, and, above all, Senegal. A domino effect is not to be excluded here, particularly in view of the increasing influence of Wahhabi-style Islam across west Africa, including in Senegal. But the threat would also extend to Europe and the US. If Senegal and Mauritania were to succumb in turn, Al-Qaida Islamists in league with Latin American drug cartels would be in control of the Atlantic coast of west Africa. The security threat to the West here is, I think, rather obvious. So, IMHO, the French decision to intervene was a no-brainer.
• It is being said that everyone supports France’s Mali intervention—and which is backed up by UNSC resolutions and all that—but that the French are also on their own. Both are true. The EU, US, ECOWAS, African Union, and Arab states (most of them) are all supportive of the French, and the Russians and Chinese haven’t said a thing against (and why would they? as they hardly have an interest in Al-Qaida gaining a durable foothold in an African state). But France’s European Union allies are making it clear that their support of France will be moral and modest at most. And absolutely no boots on the ground. The Brits, burned by Iraq and Afghanistan, will offer light logistical support at most; the Germans, typically prudent, are giving the thumbs up but little more; Italy, forget it; and the Spaniards, terrified of terrorist attentats, even restricted French air force overfly rights on their territory over a four-day period, authorizing them on a case-by-case basis so reported Le Monde the other day. This is crazy, if not downright scandalous. To paraphrase a well-known Parisian islamologue pundit, France’s solitude in a conflict whose stakes concern all of Europe, and particularly its southern rim, voids the European Union of its very essence and meaning. Indeed.
• As for the US, the Obama administration is supportive of the French and has offered logistical support—transporting soldiers and equipment in C17s, offering satellite intelligence, and now refueling tankers—but has been holding back (until today at least). So the Americans don’t want another Afghanistan. And, as it happened, the American engagement with the Malian army over the past four years, as the NYT reported two weeks ago, was a complete fiasco. But west Africa is a lot closer to the US than is Afghanistan and, for the reasons mentioned above, there are real security interests at stake, not to mention economic as well, as a radical Islamist Mali would inevitably send shock waves into Nigeria and strengthen Boko Haram and other fanatical Salafists there. And immigration from west Africa into the US has become significant over the past three decades, with a lot of movement back and forth. So there is no avoiding increased American support of the French intervention. Troops are out of the question, of course, but increased logistical support may be needed (i.e. drones).
• The key regional actor, obviously, is Algeria. Algeria’s game in Mali over the past year—which the well-informed blogger Andy Morgan, writing last July, called “masterful”—is well known (of trying to split Ansar Eddine—Malian Tuareg Islamist fanatics, with whom one may presumably deal—from AQIM/MUJWA—transnational terrorist jihadist fanatics, with whom one may absolutely not deal). (BTW, see Andy Morgan’s other posts on Mali and the Sahel; they are very interesting). The Algerians decreed northern Mali to be their chasse gardée and told France and everyone else to either fall in line behind their diplomatic strategy or butt out. The Algerians were being a pain in the rear, as can be their wont, but were defending their interests (at least as the Algerian military defined them). But Algeria’s game blew up in its face with the Ansar Eddine/AQIM/MUJWA offensive of 2½ weeks ago. The alacrity with which the Algerians allowed the French air force overfly rights was striking. Given Algeria’s relationship with France—which may be mildly characterized as neurotic—and its psychosis over its sacrosanct sovereignty, this was amazing indeed. Lucid Algerian analysts have favored the move (overtly or implicitly)—e.g. journalists Omar Belhouchet, Akram Belkaïd, Kamel Daoud—but most Algerians are uncomfortable to shocked by the tacit alliance with France (though Algerian public opinion seems to have evolved somewhat since the hostage crisis at Tiguentourine). What is clear is that Algeria, however much it may have been part of the problem, is a necessary part of the solution. The Algerians are not going to openly send troops into northern Mali—and will certainly not be seen openly collaborating with the French—but unless Algeria wants to be “Pakistanized,” as Kamel Daoud put it, it will have to do all it can to seal its southern border and eradicate the jihadists down that way. So France, the US, and everyone will have to continue indulging the Algerian regime, and regardless of how it deals with hostage crises involving their citizens.
• Mali has shown that it hardly has a functioning state and an even less of a functioning army. However one evaluates the presidency of ATT over the past decade—I’ve read contradictory arguments by specialists, some arguing that it was positive (that ATT was a visionary and a democrat), others negative (that ATT’s elections were less than free and fair and that his rule was heavy-handed)—, there is no denying Mali’s deliquescence. My faith in the argument that democracy could take root in poor countries suffered a blow with what has happened in Mali. One thing is for sure, though, which is that Mali is not a nation, never has been, never will be. The Tuareg are akin to the Iraqi Kurds: they want independence and absolutely not to be in the country of which they are a part. But as an independent Azawad, like an independent Kurdistan, is not going to happen—they’re landlocked and every bordering state is hostile to the prospect—, the only solution is autonomy or a confederal arrangement. Hardly an original thought on my part. At least there’s a prospective Tuareg partner for this, the MNLA, and that can retake the initiative if/when Ansar Eddine is brought to heel.
• Critiques of the French intervention that excoriate French colonialism, neocolonialism, imperialism, the FrançAfrique blah blah are so stupid, asinine, idiotic, and utterly irrelevant that they do not merit a response. Some of these critiques have been penned by trendy leftist academics (e.g. here and here), others by nutty bloggers (e.g. here), who, until proof to the contrary, have no greater knowledge of or insight into Mali (or the history of French colonialism) than do I or any other halfway informed person. Other critiques of the same tenor issue from Arab (mainly Algerian) and African tiersmondiste intellos frozen in the 1970s and who operate in their own intellectual and political universe (for one prolific and representative case, see here). No point in responding to them. That thankless polemic may be assumed by their Arab/Algerian and/or African detractors (as, e.g. this Senegalese academic has done with that overrated bloviator Tariq Ramadan). (For those who haven’t been paying attention, the FrançAfrique and French neocolonialism are dead; a thing of the past; they’re over; finished).
• Numerous, marginally less stupid critiques of the French intervention have insisted on the link between the jihadist takeover of northern Mali and the NATO Libya intervention, of the perverse effects of the latter and its engendering of the former. I wish to know if these critics of the Libya intervention warned loudly of the impact a collapse of the Qadhafi regime would have on Mali while the intervention was underway, i.e. in 2011—and if any insist that they did, I invite them to furnish documentary proof of their prescient warnings. But even if one or two of these brilliant Cassandras can do this, so what? (for my view of the Libya intervention, see here). Not every perverse effect can be anticipated when undertaking an urgent course of action and, in any case, the eventual impact on the Malian Tuaregs was hardly a clinching argument against ridding Libya and the world of the psychotic Qadhafi regime once that opportunity presented itself.
• Yet other critiques have warned of France getting bogged down in an endless Afghanistan-like conflict and from which the lessons have not been learned, or so it is asserted (e.g. here). Retort: Mali is not Afghanistan (see below). The comparison is specious. And then there are critiques coming from within the French political class, e.g. the howler from Valéry Giscard d’Estaing evoking “neocolonialism”—the same Giscard who sent troops to Kolwezi and palled around with Emperor Bokassa—, or the neo-pacifist Dominique de Villepin warning against engrenages (quagmires) and wondering how France could have been infected with the “neoconservative virus” (whatever neoconservatism has to do with anything here), or of Jean-Luc Mélenchon deploring the fact that the parliament wasn’t consulted before the intervention (as if the French parliament is ever consulted on such matters, and particularly before they happen), or of UMP personalities (J-F Copé, L.Wauquiez etc) breaking with the union sacrée and criticizing Hollande because France is all alone in Mali and without its EU partners (these very same UMP personalities who uncritically supported every unilateral action of Sarkozy). Quite simply, any critique of the French intervention with a valid point or two but that is not policy relevant, that does not propose an alternative course of action, is worthless, in my book at least.
• What is remarkable about the intervention is how French soldiers are being welcomed by the Malian people as saviors (the scènes de liesse in Gao today offering the latest spectacle). Given how unpopular and unloved the French are in their former African colonies, this is something indeed (in this respect, I challenge anyone to visit francophone Africa and ask people how they feel about France; one will not find many positive responses). Not even leftist/tiersmondiste detractors of the French will deny that the Malian people are greatly pleased and relieved by the French intervention.
• It has almost gone without saying that the French are not only on their own in Mali—and that a Malian/ECOWAS fighting force to take over from them is illusory—but that the conflict against the heavily armed, well-trained, and highly motivated and fanaticized narco-jihadists will be a long one, and for which France lacks the men and resources. Maybe but I’m not convinced. As asserted above, Mali is not Afghanistan. Ansar Eddine is not the Taliban (not in numbers) and there is no Waziristan-like sanctuary. The narco-jihadist forces number in the thousands at most and though well-armed from Qadhafi’s arsenal, can only get around in pick-ups in the open desert, which is perfect terrain for air power and drones. The Tuaregs are not Pashtuns and northern Mali is not southern Afghanistan. And Ansar Eddine and its AQIM/MUJWA cohorts are not Qadhafi’s Libya and with its resources. They are also not fish in the water in the areas they have occupied. Au contraire, they rather manifestly appear to be hated by the population under their yoke. If Algeria, Niger, and Mauritania can effectively seal their borders, the narco-jihadists—bereft of gasoline to fuel their pick-ups and with reinforcements choked off—can well be asphyxiated. Some may retreat into the Adrar mountains. They can stay there (and where the Algerians could make discreet incursions to smoke them out). The French, despite limitations in manpower, will have the logistical support they need. And they have the Malian population behind them. If the MNLA can gain the upper hand among the Tuaregs—and with part of Ansar Eddine rallying to it—and make a deal with whoever is in power in Bamako—and brokered by the French—, the intervention could wind up successfully in a matter of months. Call me Pollyannaish but I think this is definitely in the realm of the possible.

Voilà my two cents. For others on the same page as mine, see David Rodhe’s defense of the French intervention in The Atlantic, Gregory Mann’s post in the Africa Is a Country blog—plus this one in The Guardian—, Jean-François Bayart’s in Le Monde, and this by François Heisbourg, also in Le Monde. This Timbuktu Who’s Who from last July is also useful. À suivre.

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Mohamed Merah, itinéraire d’un terroriste français

[mise à jour ci-dessous]

Le magazine d’information “Enquête exclusive” de M6 a eu un reportage exceptionnel dimanche soir sur l’affaire Merah. Voici le synopsis

Le 21 mars dernier, la France découvre avec stupeur le visage du tueur au scooter. En quelques jours, à Toulouse et Montauban, Mohamed Merah a tué sept fois. Ses victimes : trois militaires, un professeur et trois enfants devant l’école juive Ozar-Hatora. Avant d’être abattu par les policiers du Raid, Mohamed Merah se dira lui-même « envoyé par Al-Qaeda ». Mais qui était vraiment Mohamed Merah ?

Ce jeune toulousain de 23 ans, né de parents algériens, était connu depuis longtemps de la justice, de la police et même des services de renseignement. D’abord pour des faits de délinquance, puis pour sa proximité avec les milieux islamistes radicaux.

Grace à des témoignages inédits et des documents exclusifs, nous avons reconstitué l’itinéraire de Mohamed Merah. Son enfance chaotique dans une famille violente et déstructurée, son parcours de délinquant, sa radicalisation en prison. Contrairement à ce qui a été dit au début de l’enquête, Merah n’avait rien d’un « loup solitaire ». Son environnement toulousain explique en grande partie sa dérive djihadiste. Tout comme ses voyages à la recherche de ses « frères » en Syrie, en Égypte, en Afghanistan et au Pakistan.

L’arrestation ces derniers jours des membres d’une cellule terroriste, responsables d’un attentat à la grenade dans une épicerie cachère de Sarcelle, montre que Mohamed Merah n’est pas un cas isolé. De religion musulmane ou convertis, plusieurs dizaines de jeunes Français sont aujourd’hui attirés par les thèses djihadistes. Combien sont prêts à basculer dans le terrorisme ?

L’enquête de Mohamed Sifaoui, spécialiste du terrorisme et de l’islam radical, apporte de nombreuses révélations sur l’affaire Merah.

Il faut absolument regarder le reportage—qui dure 1h 25m—et du début jusqu’à la fin. Le voici.

Le témoin-clé du reportage, Abdelghani Merah—le frère aîné de Mohamed—, a écrit un livre (avec Mohamed Sifaoui), qui sort demain.

MISE À JOUR: L’émission d’information “28 minutes” d’ARTE a reçu Abdelghani Merah sur le plateau ce soir. (13 novembre)

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L’Algérie et la crise malienne

Voici une analyse de Bernard Guetta sur France Inter hier, que je trouve assez juste

Ça n’a pas été « non » mais ca n’a pas été, non plus, un «oui concret». Malgré les « discussions approfondies » qu’elle a menées, hier, avec le président algérien, la secrétaire d’Etat américaine, n’a pas encore su le convaincre d’approuver et appuyer l’intervention contre les groupes islamistes qui font régner la terreur au Nord Mali depuis le printemps.

Les contacts vont se poursuivre, a déclaré Hilary Clinton en assurant avoir « beaucoup apprécié » l’analyse de la complexité de la situation malienne que lui a présentée Abdelaziz Bouteflika mais, courtoisies diplomatiques ou pas, quatre raisons retiennent l’Algérie de s’engager dans cette crise aux côtés de la France, des Etats-Unis et de pays de la Cédéao, la Communauté économique des Etats d’Afrique de l’Ouest.

La première est que l’Algérie reste allergique à tout renforcement de la présence ou même de l’influence française à ses frontières. Un demi-siècle après avoir recouvré son indépendance, l’Algérie continue de se méfier de son ancienne puissance coloniale et cela d’autant plus qu’elle a désapprouvé son rôle dans le renversement du colonel Kadhafi et, plus généralement, le soutien des Occidentaux aux révolutions arabes qui sont perçues comme une menace par le pouvoir algérien.

La deuxième est que l’Aqmi, al Qaëda au Maghreb islamique, l’un des groupes qui a pris le contrôle du Nord Mali, est essentiellement constitué d’islamistes algériens qui avaient trouvé refuge au Sahel après avoir été militairement défaits à la fin des années 90. L’Algérie ne veut pas se retrouver aux prises avec eux et la troisième raison pour laquelle elle est si réticente à appuyer cette intervention est que 50 000 de ses citoyens sont des Touaregs, vivant aux frontières du Sahel et très proches des Touaregs du Mali, ceux-là mêmes dont l’aspiration indépendantiste a permis aux islamistes de prendre pied au Nord de ce pays.

L’Algérie craint de susciter une question touareg sur son territoire et la quatrième raison de sa réticence est qu’elle veut encore croire en la possibilité de faire éclater par la négociation le fragile front qui s’est formé entre les islamistes touaregs et Aqmi. L’Algérie est tout, sauf allante et sa prudence gêne considérablement la France et les Etats-Unis qui ne voient pas comment leur appui logistique pourrait garantir le succès de l’intervention africaine qu’ils préparent si le plus puissant Etat de la région ne leur prête pas la main. Français et Américains vont donc continuer à tenter de convaincre l’Algérie de sortir de son attentisme mais, s’ils n’y parvenaient pas, un point d’interrogation supplémentaire pèserait alors sur cette opération dont les points faibles sont nombreux.

Mal entraînées, les troupes du Mali et de la Cédéao peuvent sans doute reprendre les villes du Nord Mali mais plus difficilement les sécuriserà long terme et moins encore rétablir l’ordre dans le vaste Sahel si la frontière algéro-malienne n’est pas hermétiquement fermée et si les renseignements algériens ne leur apportent pas un complet soutien. Cette intervention reste aussi nécessaire qu’aléatoire.

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François Hollande’s apology – II

Today’s Journal du Dimanche has an interesting interview on the events of October 17, 1961, with Constantin Melnik, who was the coordinator of secret services at the Matignon at the time

Melnik : “Une responsabilité collective”

Le coordinateur des services secrets à Matignon de 1959 à 1962, Constantin Melnik, revient sur la répression sanglante du 17 octobre 1961.

Quand avez-vous été alerté cette nuit-là?
J’ai reçu un coup de fil du directeur de la sûreté la nuit même, me disant : “Il se passe quelque chose de sinistre à la préfecture de police”. Mais c’était du ressort du préfet, Maurice Papon. Moi, je m’occupais alors des négociations avec le FLN algérien. J’ai longtemps été accusé d’avoir participé à cette effroyable répression. Mais je suis complètement vierge. J’ai même été le premier à révéler le massacre.

Comment l’avez-vous su?
Chaque matin, je recevais la liste des musulmans retrouvés morts à Paris. En général, on en avait 5 ou 6. Mais après le 17 octobre, c’est devenu 20 à 30 par jour. J’ai convoqué le directeur de cabinet de Maurice Papon pour avoir des explications. Il m’a répondu qu’il s’agissait de “noyés par balles”… J’ai compris qu’il s’était passé quelque chose d’inadmissible. J’ai tout de suite demandé un rendez-vous avec le Premier ministre Michel Debré pour l’avertir. Il m’a lancé qu’on ne faisait pas d’omelette sans casser des oeufs.

Combien de victimes?
Le FLN a annoncé 69 morts au cours de cette soirée. Mais comme il n’y a pas eu d’enquêtes, on ne connaît pas le nombre exact de victimes, ni le détail. Des gens ont vraiment été massacrés : certains tués par balle et jetés dans l’eau. D’autres battus à mort. Ou noyés, comme la plus jeune victime, âgée de 17 ans. Comme le FLN ne connaissait pas forcément tous les manifestants, j’estime qu’il a dû y avoir une centaine de morts.

Pourquoi ce déchaînement de violence? 
C’était une ambiance de guerre. Depuis des mois, les policiers étaient la cible d’attentats commis par le FLN. Ils étaient mal formés. Certains venaient de faire leur service militaire en Algérie. Ils se sont laissés emporter par la haine et le racisme. La personnalité du préfet de police, Maurice Papon, a également joué. Cet homme, qui avait été super-préfet de Constantine, était rompu aux méthodes brutales pratiquées en Algérie. Régulièrement, il encourageait ses agents, avec des discours du type : “Pour un coup reçu, nous en rendrons dix” ou : “Je vous couvrirai”.

Qui est vraiment responsable? 
En premier lieu, Maurice Papon. Le 17 au soir, il était dans la salle de commandement de la préfecture. Il était au courant des événements, mais ne pouvait rien faire : la police était incontrôlable. C’est aussi une responsabilité collective. Car il a fallu réquisitionner les bus de la RATP pour embarquer les manifestants, réquisitionner le Palais des Sports pour les parquer. Le ministre des Transports, le ministre de l’Intérieur, le Premier ministre et le président de la République étaient forcément au courant. Mais je ne crois pas que le général de Gaulle ait été informé du massacre. La preuve : dans les archives de la police, j’ai vu une lettre du secrétaire général de l’Élysée demandant des explications à Maurice Papon. Enfin, la fédération de France du FLN, qui avait appelé à manifester, a aussi une part de responsabilité. Ses dirigeants ont ensuite admis, en privé, qu’il fallait que le sang coule pour renforcer leur situation au sein des indépendantistes. Pour eux, c’était un acte de guerre.

Pourquoi l’affaire a-t-elle été étouffée? 
Tout le monde a fermé les yeux. D’abord, parce qu’à l’époque, la population était hostile à l’idée de laisser les Algériens défiler dans Paris. Si Maurice Papon avait laissé cette manifestation se dérouler, il aurait été immédiatement révoqué ! Là, il a poursuivi une belle carrière. Ensuite, le gouvernement avait besoin de sa police. Il devait lutter contre l’OAS, qui était un véritable danger pour la stabilité du pays. Moi-même, je n’ai pas demandé d’enquête. Mais j’avais un poids sur la conscience : le gouvernement que je servais avait commis puis couvert une infamie. Le président François Hollande a raison de rendre hommage aux victimes

Marie Quenet – Le Journal du Dimanche
dimanche 21 octobre 2012

There’s also this in the JDD

17 octobre 1961, de 30 à 170 morts

Ce jour-là, 20.000 à 30.000 Algériens manifestent contre le couvre-feu. Plusieurs dizaines d’entre eux sont tués par la police. Mais le mystère demeure…

Ce devait être une manifestation pacifique. Ce 17 octobre 1961, les Algériens de la région parisienne défilent contre le couvre-feu imposé par le préfet de police, Maurice Papon, aux Français musulmans d’Algérie. Tous ont reçu la même consigne : n’apporter aucune arme. Ils ont même été fouillés à leur arrivée. Vers 19 heures, 20.000 à 30.000 hommes, femmes et enfants convergent dans le calme, sous la pluie, à différents endroits de Paris. Mais bientôt, la répression s’abat…

L’objectif du FLN, organisateur de la manifestation? “Un des cadres de la Fédération de France du FLN m’a dit qu’il s’agissait d’un acte tactique”, affirme Georges Fleury, auteur de nombreux livres sur la guerre d’Algérie. “Le couvre-feu paralysait leur action. Ils ont donc forcé les gens à manifester. Selon ce cadre, ‘il fallait que le sang coule’ pour être entendu de l’ONU.” L’historien Benjamin Stora, commissaire de l’exposition “Vies d’exil” à la Cité nationale de l’histoire de l’immigration (jusqu’au 19 mai 2013), n’est pas de cet avis : “Croyez-vous que le FLN aurait fait exprès d’envoyer à la mort des femmes et des enfants? Personne ne s’attendait à cette violence. Et la majorité des immigrés algériens étaient favorables à l’indépendance.”

Quoi qu’il en soit, la situation dérape. “Plusieurs milliers d’Algériens se dirigent vers le pont de Neuilly. La police fait barrage, elle ouvre le feu. Des hommes sont jetés dans la Seine”, décrit Jean-Luc Einaudi, spécialiste du 17 octobre 1961. Des scènes de violences se déroulent également près de la Madeleine, de l’Opéra ou sur le boulevard Saint-Michel. Les arrestations sont massives, plus de 11.500. Les hommes sont embarqués dans des bus de la RATP, puis parqués dans différents lieux, notamment au Palais des Sports.

Papon en première ligne

Impossible de connaître le nombre exact de morts. “Trois”, selon le bilan officiel de l’époque ; “40 à 50″ selon la commission Mandelkern en 1997. Pour sa part, Jean-Luc Einaudi compte environ 400 Algériens tués entre septembre et novembre, dont 170 à partir du 17 octobre. L’historien Jean-Paul Brunet, lui, estime qu’il y en aurait eu “entre 30 et 50, en y incluant également les morts des affrontements du 18 octobre, les blessés décédés par la suite et des morts dus à l’action de la police en dehors des lieux de manifestation”. “Il y a surtout eu beaucoup de blessés graves, notamment des traumatismes crâniens.” La répression a été d’une brutalité extrême. Les policiers se déchaînent à coup de “bidule”, des matraques d’un mètre de long. Un manifestant meurt écrasé, étouffé, dans un car de police, un autre est abattu deux jours plus tard tandis qu’il tente de s’enfuir…

Pourquoi ce déchaînement? À l’époque, la tension est à son comble. Depuis des mois, la police subit les attentats du FLN. Les commissariats sont protégés par des sacs de sable. Le ressentiment s’accumule. Et l’historien Jean-Pierre Rioux pointe également le nombre insuffisant d’agents sur le terrain le soir du 17 octobre.

Mais qui est responsable? Maurice Papon, le préfet de police, est évidemment en première ligne. En même temps, rappelle Jean-Pierre Rioux, “il n’était pas question pour le gouvernement et le général de Gaulle qu’il y ait une manifestation publique en faveur de l’indépendance de l’Algérie alors qu’ils négociaient justement avec le gouvernement provisoire de la République algérienne”. Ont-ils été informés de ce déferlement de violence et du nombre exact de morts? Seules les archives, en France et en Algérie, pourraient permettre aux historiens de s’approcher de la vérité.

Marie Quenet – Le Journal du Dimanche
samedi 20 octobre 2012

On the varying estimates of the number of people killed on during the events, see this run down by Pascal Riché in Rue89.

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François Hollande’s apology

Historian David A. Bell has an article in TNR on the contemporary politics of historical apology in France and what America could learn from it. On the 70th anniversary of the Rafle du Vél’ d’Hiv this past July 16th, President Hollande delivered a powerful address on the culpability of the French state and that went further than President Chirac’s words on that day in 1995 (the English translation of Hollande’s speech is here; my blog post on the anniversary is here). And this past Wednesday, on the 51st anniversary of the sinister events of the evening of October 17, 1961, in and around Paris (which I have posted on here and here), Hollande issued this brief but remarkable statement

Le 17 octobre 1961, des Algériens qui manifestaient pour le droit à l’indépendance ont été tués lors d’une sanglante répression.

La République reconnaît avec lucidité ces faits.

Cinquante et un ans après cette tragédie, je rends hommage à la mémoire des victimes.

Again, a remarkable, indeed historic, statement acknowledging the responsibility of the French state in the murder of scores of Algerian civilians—French citizens at the time—on French soil. The UMP, not to mention the FN, has reacted with expected indignation at Hollande’s words but they may be safely ignored. In discussing France’s admirable efforts to face up to and atone for the dark episodes of its not-too-distant past, Bell draws a contrast with America on this score, of how American attitudes have changed and not for the better

Not only has France apologized for some past actions, it has also stopped boasting of others. in 2005, the government of Jacques Chirac quietly but firmly refused to mark in any but the most restrained way the bicentennial of the Battle of Austerlitz—arguably, the greatest French military victory of all time, carried out by Napoleon Bonaparte against Austria and Russia. Modern France, it was explained, had no business celebrating a bloodbath carried out by a repressive, undemocratic ruler as part of a campaign of naked imperial expansionism.

In the United States, sentiments of this sort, apropos of the darker episodes in American history, are anything but uncommon in university classrooms. In politics, however, they have become virtually taboo. In the civil rights era, American politicians could speak frankly and eloquently about the ways that slavery and institutionalized racism stained the American past. In the 1980’s, Congress could pass legislation acknowledging the wrong of Japanese-American interment during World War II, and granting compensation to its victims. But in the past quarter-century, conservatives have successfully cast any attempt to discuss the country’s historical record impartially in the political realm as a species of heresy—“blaming America first,” as Jeanne Kirkpatrick put it as far back as 1984. A turning point of sorts came in 1994, when the Smithsonian Institution planned an exhibit of the aircraft that dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima, accompanied by material that highlighted the human toll of the bombing,  inviting debate on its morality.  The outcry from conservatives and veterans groups was deafening, and few politicians dared to defend the Smithsonian, which eventually canceled the exhibit.

What has changed in the US? There’s no mystery: the Republican party has been taken over by elements that, in France, would find their natural home in the nationalist, no apologies Front National, or on in one of the hard right caucuses of the UMP that has few  programmatic differences with the FN and advocates electoral alliances with it. Bell—who does not precisely put it this way—concludes

in practice, denunciations of “apology” play much less well in France than in the United States. The [UMP government's] 2005 schools measure [on teaching “the positive role” of French colonialism] was widely ridiculed and soon repealed. François Hollande promised to recognize the 1961 massacre during the presidential campaign last year, and still handily defeated Sarkozy, who did not use the issue against him. Defenders of Hollande’s Vel d’Hiv speech have pointed out that the new President was following the precedent laid down by a previous apologist-in-chief, the UMP’s Chirac. And anyone who strikes an overly contentious nationalist pose in French politics risks association with the far-right National Front, whose founder, Jean-Marie Le Pen, has predictably denounced Hollande, declaring that only God has the authority to recognize French guilt or innocence.

In France, in short, apologizing for your country can be good politics. It is in America where being a politician means never being able to say you’re sorry.

À propos, any bets on Romney accusing Obama of “apologizing for America” during next Monday’s debate?

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Monsieur Lazhar

As this seems to be Canada weekend on my blog (see previous two posts) I should mention this Canadian film I saw last night. It was a nominee for best foreign film at the last Oscars and opened in the US in April, several months before arriving in France. The pic is about a 50-ish Algerian asylum-seeker, named Bachir Lazhar, who becomes a substitute teacher en catastrophe in a 6th grade class in a Montreal public school—whose beloved teacher committed suicide—, and of his experience in the classroom, with the students, and his colleagues. It’s a touching film and with several themes: mourning and coping with loss—as Lazhar is also mourning his own, which one learns in the course of the film—, of deracination, navigating cultural differences… The acting is first-rate, particularly the children. US reviews of the film are tops. In France they’re good (and with spectators particularly enthusiastic). Trailer is here.

The big draw of the film for us was the Algeria angle and, above all, the casting of Fellag in the role of Lazhar. Fellag is a hugely popular comedian and actor in Algeria and France (particularly among Algerian immigrants), best known for his one-man comic acts. They’re wonderful. We love them in my family. Fellag is very funny and his social satire is dead on target. And his accent and schtick are almost stereotypically Kabyle Berber (just as those of Lenny Bruce and Jackie Mason were Jewish-American). In order to follow him, it helps not only to have perfect French comprehension but also some knowledge of Algeria (though one of my work colleagues, who does not know Algeria or the Maghreb, went to one of his shows last year and loved it). For two of his most popular acts, see here and here.

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“Nous risquons une dictature pire que celle de Ben Ali”

In my previous post I linked to an analysis by political scientist Alfred Stepan on the democratic transition process in Tunisia. Stepan, writing six months ago, concluded on an optimistic note:

as early as 2003, secular and religious opposition activists were agreeing on a common program for “the day after Ben Ali” that to some extent drew upon their shared useable past to imagine a democratic future. With secularists agreeing that Islamists could participate fully in democratic politics, and Islamists agreeing that popular sovereignty is the only source of  legitimacy, Tunisia was surprisingly well situated to make a good showing at the work of democratic transition when the moment to undertake that work came around.

But I just now read a rather less optimistic assessment, this one by Tunisia’s eminent jurist and scholar, Yadh Ben Achour, who headed the country’s political transition commission that was established after the fall of the Ben Ali regime. Ben Achour is a man of integrity and qute brilliant (see here), and whom I had the opportunity to hear in May 2011 at a talk he gave on the Tunisian transition before an audience of several hundred at Paris’s Ecole Militaire. I was very impressed: by the power of his analysis, his erudition, moderation, and profound democratic reflexes. In the talk he asserted, among other things, that a regression—by a future theocratic or military regime—was not impossible but that there would be no return to dictatorship such as Tunisia had known prior to January 2011 (from my notes of the talk).

Sixteen months later, Ben Achour is less certain. In a lengthy interview three days ago in the Tunis daily La Presse de Tunisie, he expressed alarm over the draft constitution being prepared by the National Constituent Assembly—in which the Islamist Ennahda is playing a preponderant role—and his fear that Tunisia could end up with a “dictatorship worse than that of Ben Ali”. Here is the full text of the interview. I have highlighted noteworthy passages in bold (j’ai mis en exergue des passages clés).

 Exclusif: Pr Yadh Ben Achour à La Presse

«Nous risquons une dictature pire que celle de Ben Ali»

 Pr Yadh Ben Achour: le 23 octobre, l’ANC perdra une grande partie de sa crédibilité et de sa légitimité.   L’ex-président de la Haute instance jette un regard sans complaisance sur la situation du pays

Le 23 octobre constitue-t-il une date butoir ? Question qui fait débat et divise les politiques et l’opinion. Le Pr Ben Achour y répond sans équivoque, en expliquant que le débat est à situer «hors du terrain juridique»,  pour ajouter que néanmoins, «à cette date, l’Assemblée nationale constituante perdra en grande partie sa crédibilité et sa légitimité morale et politique».

Depuis qu’il a présidé la Haute instance pour la réalisation des objectifs de la révolution, de la réforme politique et de la transition démocratique, le Pr Ben Achour est resté très impliqué sur la scène politico-médiatique. Consulté en haut lieu, très écouté, il ne se passe pas un jour sans que l’on demande à  Si Yadh, opposant de longue date à Ben Ali, juriste renommé et reconnu, spécialiste en droit administratif, son avis sur telle ou telle question.

Pour l’heure, la Tunisie passe par une période transitoire décisive, au cours de laquelle la Constitution de la deuxième République est en cours d’élaboration. Rien de moins ! Les experts peuvent y apporter une précieuse plus-value. Or il a été décidé de le remercier, encore une fois, et de se passer des services du comité des experts au sein duquel il siégeait. Un comité qui se proposait bénévolement d’apporter une expertise pointue aux travaux de la Constituante, laquelle, comme on l’a vu, s’emmêle parfois les pinceaux. Curieusement, la proposition a été rejetée.

Au cours de cet entretien, La Presse pose les questions qui relèvent de l’actualité du pays et qui taraudent une bonne partie de la population. Les réponses sans langue de bois de «Monsieur le Doyen» vont susciter débat et émoi.

Vous avez attiré l’attention sur certains passages de l’avant-projet de la Constitution qui ouvriraient  la voie à une dictature théocratique… 

Depuis les premières réunions de l’Assemblée constituante, il ne se passe  plus un seul jour sans que l’on soit assailli par les évènements ou les thématiques religieuses. Un jour ce sont les propos de certains constituants revendiquant l’application des peines coraniques, comme l’amputation ou la crucifixion, un autre jour ce sont les munaqibat qui investissent La Manouba, un autre jour encore les agressions terroristes indûment appelées « salafistes » contre les artistes, les intellectuels,  dont l’affaire de la Abdelliya représente le point culminant, puis des disputes parfois violentes au sein des mosquées, le lendemain des proclamations fracassantes et des appels au meurtre de la part d’un certain nombre d’imams-voyous, le surlendemain des violences à l’égard d’un groupe chiite, la veille, un procès inique contre de jeunes caricaturistes, l’avant-veille, un procès moyenâgeux contre la diffusion de Persepolis,  sans compter les débats incessants autour de la charia, de l’adoption, du Code du statut personnel, de la polygamie, du niqab, et des muqaddassat.

La religion a investi massivement le champ du débat social et politique, à tel point qu’on commence à en avoir une sorte d’indigestion. Il n’y a plus que cela, et les véritables problèmes du pays sont laissés de côté ou remis aux calendes grecques. Et, contrairement à ce que l’on dit, la religion n’est pas en train de gagner des adeptes, au contraire, elle est en train d’en perdre. Un certain nombre de croyants qui allaient pacifiquement faire leurs prières à la mosquée n’y vont plus, tellement ce lieu est devenu, non pas comme il devrait l’être, à savoir le symbole de la douceur, de la sérénité et de la contemplation, mais l’expression du militantisme politique le plus virulent, de la violence, de la haine, et de la laideur. Tout ce que le parti au pouvoir a réussi à faire, c’est de transformer notre religion en une véritable maladie sociale. Les Tunisiens ont vécu la religion comme un élément de libération, de cohésion sociale, de spiritualité. Ils la vivent aujourd’hui comme un cancer qui dévore le corps social tout entier et qui risque de le jeter dans le sous-développement et la régression généralisée. Si cela continue, la Tunisie ne sera pas simplement déclassée par les agences de notation, le bon Dieu lui-même n’en voudra plus.

C’est dans ce contexte que, à propos des débats sur le projet de Constitution organisés par l’Association tunisienne de droit constitutionnel,  j’ai effectivement affirmé que ce projet nous préparait une dictature théocratique et qu’il allait sanctionner la mort de la liberté d’expression que nous avons acquise grâce à la révolution.  Les commissions constitutionnelles qui travaillent malheureusement sans aucune méthode, sans aucune véritable expertise, dans la dispersion, ont produit un projet qui est bien plus qu’un brouillon. Ils ne se sont pas contentés de la référence aux «nobles valeurs de l’Islam » dans le préambule, ni de l’article premier de la Constitution sur lequel tout le monde est pratiquement d’accord. Ils se sont permis à deux reprises, dans deux articles différents de leur brouillon, d’insister lourdement pour rappeler que l’État est le protecteur de la religion et en particulier des «valeurs sacrées», ce qui ouvre la voie à tous les risques possibles, en ajoutant, dans un autre article inclus dans le chapitre sur les droits et libertés fondamentaux, que l’État garantit la liberté de croyance et d’exercice des cultes et «criminalise toute atteinte aux valeurs sacrées». 

Bien entendu, certains commentateurs ont tenté de minimiser la portée de ces articles. Mais je peux vous dire que dans le contexte qui est le nôtre et avec les menaces qui pèsent aujourd’hui constamment et quotidiennement sur les libertés, nous ouvrons la voie à toutes les dérives possibles et imaginables. Oui, nous risquons dans peu de temps de nous retrouver dans une dictature pire que celle de Ben Ali, une dictature théocratique. Oui, nous risquons de perdre l’un des acquis les plus chers de la révolution : la liberté d’expression. Oui, de telles idées constituent bel et bien des idées antirévolutionnaires. Mais ne vous inquiétez pas. En fin de compte, le message de la révolution sera toujours là pour rappeler à ceux qui l’oublient qu’ils ont des engagements vis-à-vis de ce peuple et que ces engagements ne consistent pas à leur offrir des nattes de prière pour résoudre leurs problèmes.

 Pensez-vous que la table ronde qui a été organisée et vos diverses interventions publiques sur ce sujet peuvent contribuer à l’amélioration des textes ?

Je ne sais pas si la table ronde et les critiques que nous avons présentées auront un effet. En l’état actuel des choses, et d’après ce que tout le monde observe, je me méfie des députés à  l’Assemblée nationale constituante. Certains d’entre eux, heureusement pas tous, n’ont aucun niveau de culture, aucun sens du droit, aucun sens de l’État, et cela ne les excuse pas de dire qu’ils sont les représentants du peuple, au contraire. Ils sont bien conscients de cet état de fait. Mais, vous savez qu’en psychologie ce phénomène est fort connu. Au lieu de conduire à la modestie, à la juste confiance en soi, à l’écoute de l’autre, à l’ouverture, au contraire, il conduit à l’enfermement, à l’illusion, au fantasme, et à un orgueil démesuré et mal placé. C’est ce qu’on appelle communément « le complexe d’infériorité ».

Juridiquement parlant,  la date du 23 octobre est-elle réellement une date butoir ? Et politiquement, qu’en est-il?

J’ai déjà répondu à cette question à plusieurs reprises. Le 23 octobre constitue bien une date butoir. Mais nous ne sommes pas d’accord sur les conséquences qu’on peut en tirer. Personnellement, je pense qu’au-delà de cette date, l’Assemblée nationale constituante perdra en grande partie sa crédibilité et sa légitimité morale et politique. Je ne crois pas réellement qu’on puisse situer le débat sur le terrain juridique, pour en tirer des conséquences concrètes sur ce plan et conclure à une sorte d’invalidité juridique de la Constituante au-delà du 23 octobre.

Quels sont les scénarios envisageables au-delà de cette date, pour dépasser l’hypothétique vide juridique et politique que de plus en plus d’observateurs évoquent ?

On ne peut pas répondre à ce genre de questions, sauf à dire cela. Le peuple éprouve aujourd’hui une lassitude immense tout d’abord devant la longévité de cette période transitoire qui risque malheureusement encore de s’allonger. La même lassitude est due aux fautes énormes, inacceptables de gestion de l’Etat et à la mauvaise qualité de certains députés à l’Assemblée constituante et  des personnes si antipathiques qui entourent le gouvernement, en particulier le chef du gouvernement.

Est-il vrai que vous avez évoqué, lors de la table ronde du 23 août à l’Africa, un quelconque rôle de salut à l’Armée nationale ?

J’ai évoqué cette question à propos du recours au référendum, dans le cas où ne serait pas atteinte la majorité des deux tiers pour l’adoption de la Constitution au sein même de l’Assemblée nationale constituante. Cette idée de référendum contre laquelle j’ai averti dès le mois de décembre les plus hautes autorités de l’État constitue une course à l’aventure. En effet, que se passerait-il si jamais le référendum nous donne une réponse négative. Nous serons exactement dans la situation que nous avons voulu éviter depuis le début de la révolution en janvier 2011,  c’est-à-dire le vide au niveau de l’Etat. Or, c’est précisément dans ce piège que sont tombés  les «experts» si avertis au sein de l’ANC, les «Fatahel» du droit d’après l’expression que j’ai entendue d’un député de la Nahdha, au moment où ils ont rédigé la « petite Constitution». Quand cette question est venue en discussion au sein de notre propre comité d’experts, celui qui a travaillé avec la Haute instance de la révolution, cette idée de recours au référendum a été discutée. Mais nous l’avons immédiatement écartée à cause de ce risque. Je me rappelle avoir dit à mes collègues : «Nous ferons pour les constituants comme pour le pape.  Nous les enfermerons au palais du Bardo, jusqu’à ce qu’ils se mettent d’accord sur un projet avec la majorité des deux tiers. À ce moment-là, ils nous enverront la fumée blanche ». Ils n’ont qu’à se débrouiller pour atteindre ce consensus autour des deux tiers. Cette condition est d’ailleurs une garantie pour obtenir le consensus. Et nous avons supprimé de notre projet de constitution provisoire le recours au référendum.

A défaut de cela, nous courons le risque du vide total au niveau des institutions de l’État. Ni l’Assemblée nationale constituante, ni le gouvernement ni le président de la République n’auront plus de légitimité, cette fois-ci, ni juridique ni politique. Ce vide peut être fatal. Il peut conduire au développement de l’anarchie. Et devant le vide et l’anarchie, aucune force armée légale ne peut rester indifférente. Je le dis franchement : non seulement elle peut intervenir, mais dans cette hypothèse de catastrophe nationale, elle est obligée, par devoir envers l’ensemble de la patrie, d’intervenir pour mettre fin au chaos.

Est-ce que vous envisagez de quitter un jour votre statut d’expert et académicien pour vous engager dans l’arène politique ?

Je ne renoncerai jamais à mon statut, disons le mot, d’intellectuel.  M’engager dans l’arène politique directement, peut-être pas. Être présent dans le débat politique national, certainement. Mais je peux vous dire avec certitude ce qui suit : quoi qu’il en soit, je ferais certainement mieux que les responsables actuels.

Votre mot de la fin ?

Un conseil : il faut nous aider les uns les autres. Les partis au pouvoir, pardon je veux dire le parti, doit définitivement cesser son harcèlement à l’égard de la société. C’est lui qui provoque le contre-harcèlement d’une partie de la presse et des médias et des forces politiques de l’opposition. Il doit mener une politique plus prudente, plus objective, beaucoup plus ouverte, y compris à l’égard de ses ennemis, moins axée sur les intérêts partisans et les perspectives électorales. Sa responsabilité, en tant que parti de gouvernement, est bien plus lourde que celle des forces de l’opposition. Les erreurs venant de sa part sont plus graves. Parmi les erreurs qu’il faut éviter, cette imbrication organique entre le parti et l’État, sinon, comme l’a rappelé le président de la République, nous revenons aux pratiques du RCD. Le gouvernement, l’administration, les services de sécurité, la fonction publique, d’une manière générale les services de l’État, doivent bénéficier d’une autonomie réelle par rapport non pas simplement au parti au pouvoir, mais à l’ensemble des partis politiques. Autrement dit, le chef du gouvernement et les ministres en tant que chefs de l’administration centrale, responsables des services publics, de la fonction publique, de l’administration régionale, doivent oublier leur condition d’hommes de parti. Je sais que cet exercice est extrêmement difficile pour les personnes qui n’ont jamais exercé le pouvoir dans le cadre de la tradition du droit public et de l’administration tunisiens et qui, par ailleurs, n’ont pour la plupart aucune formation juridique, n’ont jamais fréquenté l’École nationale d’administration. La désignation d’un ministre ou d’un gouverneur ou d’un délégué ou d’un ambassadeur, même si elle est laissée à la discrétion du gouvernement, ne peut se faire à la courte paille. De telles fonctions nécessitent une certaine formation, une certaine culture du droit public tunisien. Que le pouvoir travaille en ce sens, nous travaillerons avec lui, dans le même sens.

Auteur : Propos recueillis par Hella Habib. Ajouté le : 31-08-2012

There has been much mention of—and outcry over—the article in the draft constitution that defines women as “complementary” to men (not “equal”). If this passes, it will clearly constitute a serious regression in the juridical status of women and likely lead to the revision of the 1956 personal status code (which Rached Ghannouchi had pledged not to touch). Another problematic proposed article (27.2)—in the “rights and freedoms” section no less—reads: ”Any form of normalization with Zionism and the Zionist entity is a crime to be punished by law.” I had a post on this a year ago (here). These are still proposals at this stage and the final draft is not definitive, so there is still time for non-Islamist parties and civil society to pressure the Nahdaouis. And for Tunisia’s foreign partners (e.g. EU, USA) to apply gentle pressure.

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The Transformation of the Arab World

This is another excellent article I read last week, by the always interesting and insightful Olivier Roy (and who is far more so than certain other French islamologues who pontificate from their perches on Paris’s rive gauche), in the July 2012 issue of the Journal of Democracy. Voilà the abstract

In order to grasp what is happening in the Middle East, we must set aside a number of deep-rooted prejudices. First among them is the assumption that democracy presupposes secularization: The democratization movement in the Arab world came precisely after thirty years of what has been called the “return of the sacred,” an obvious process of re-Islamization of everyday life, coupled with the rise of Islamist parties. The second is the idea that a democrat must also, by definition, be a liberal. What is at stake is the reformulation of religion’s place in the public sphere.

What Roy has to say about secularization and its relationship with democracy and modernity is not the prevailing view in the Hexagon, that’s for sure. Roy’s article may be accessed here. Adam Garfinkle, writing a month ago in The American Interest, had a lengthy commentary on Roy’s article here.

Another first-rate article I read last week, this one from the Journal of Democracy’s April 2012 issue, was “Tunisia’s Transition and the Twin Tolerations,” by Alfred Stepan, the great political scientist and specialist of democratic transitions. The abstract

In 2011, Tunisia achieved a successful democratic transition, albeit not yet a consolidation of democracy. It did so while adhering to a relationship between religion and politics that follows the pattern of what I have called the “twin tolerations.” The first toleration is that of religious citizens toward the state. It requires that they accord democratically elected officials the freedom to legislate and govern without having to confront denials of their authority based on religious claims—such as the claim that “Only God, not man, can make laws.” The second toleration requires that laws and officials must permit religious citizens, as a matter of right, to freely express their views and values within civil society, and to freely take part in politics, as long as religious activists and organizations respect other citizens’ constitutional rights and the law.

Writing six months ago, Stepan argued that Tunisia had been doing just about everything right in its transition process (rather unlike Egypt). His tone was optimistic. One hopes it will continue to be on his next research trip to Tunis. For the full text of his article, go here.

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El Gusto

[update below] [2nd update below]

On this 50th anniversary of Algeria’s independence I want to recommend this wonderful documentary, on a mixed Muslim-Jewish chaâbi music orchestra from the Algiers Casbah that director Safinez Bousbia discovered and reunited fifty years after it disbanded. Chaâbi, if one doesn’t know it, is a 20th century Algerian folk music style derived from Arab-Andalusian classical (here and this NPR report here). The film is a sort of Algerian ‘Buena Vista Social Club’. The musicians had played together in the Casbah in the 1940s and early ’50s but the advent of the Algerian war of independence made it impossible for them to continue. And in the spring and early summer of 1962—in the final chaotic months of Algérie française—, the Jewish members of the orchestra left for France, never returned to Algeria, and lost contact with their Muslim associates. It was a remarkable feat of Bousbia, who lives in Ireland (and is barely 30 years old), to uncover the past existence of the orchestra, track down the living members in Algiers and France, and reunite them for concerts (mainly in France). In addition to recounting a fascinating and moving slice of recent Algerian socio-cultural history, it gives an insight into Algeria’s now lost multi-confessional past, where Muslims and Jews co-existed in a general bonne entente. The Jewish population of Algeria was significant in number—some 135,000 by the 1950s—and entirely indigenous to the country, not the product of 19th century European settlement. Juridically assimilated into the French-European settler community from 1870, they were progressively gallicized—and despite the antisemitism of Algeria’s Europeans—and detached from the indigenous Muslim population. The mass departure of Algeria’s Jews for metropolitan France—only several thousand went to Israel—was one of the tragedies of the Algerian war and the manner in which the country acceded to independence (for more on the subject, see Benjamin’s Stora’s Les Trois exils, juifs d’Algérie, which will hopefully be translated into English one of these days).

US and UK critics who saw ‘El Gusto’ at film fests loved it, e.g. Jay Weissberg in Variety here, Hollywood Reporter here, and Indiewire here (with trailer). HuffPo had an interview with director Bousbia here. The film and orchestra website is here. The documentary opened in Paris last January to general indifference. Hardly anyone saw it (not even local Algerians), which is not surprising. The French public is just not interested in Algeria. The film, if properly distributed, will surely have greater success internationally.

UPDATE: Mediapart had an article with links on June 22nd entitled “Safinez Bousbia (El Gusto): «une version moins aigrie» de l’indépendance algérienne.”

2nd UPDATE: Elaine Sciolino has an article on El Gusto in the NY Times. (October 13)

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