Tunisian Progress to Democracy Unstoppable - Despite many obstacles, prospects for reforms still look good.

Article en Français ICI


Wherever you are in Tunis today you experience heated debates: who will rule the country after free elections for a constitutional assembly on October 23? Will the Islamic Ennahda party turn Tunisia into an Iranian-style state? Why the secular parties are not so well organised? Who to vote for among the 100 and more new parties?


Sit in a cafe in the old medina of Tunis, in the middle-class Nasr area or in the posh Marsa suburb - almost everyone is arguing passionately about the current situation and how a Tunisian democracy should look.


The explosion of newly-found freedoms since President Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali fled to Saudi Arabia on January 14 , after a three-week uprising, is something no one can ever take away from Tunisians. If there is any consensus among the people today it is that the hard-won freedom of expression is untouchable.

"Tunis is so beautiful without Ben Ali Baba and the 40 thieves!"  Tunis, summer 2011

The country's hot topics are many: the nature of the future system - should power be in hands of the president or prime minister - the relationship between state and religion, women's rights, economic policies, reforming the judiciary and security apparatus and corruption. 

On January 14 many believed that from now on all would be just fine. But Tunisians quickly realised that the government of premier Mohammed Ghannouchi, who took over from Ben Ali, wanted to perpetuate the hated regime. He was toppled after waves of protests and replaced on February 27 by Beji Caid el-Sebsi, a former minister under the authoritarian but revered late president Habib Bourguiba. El-Sebsi's transitional government is currently navigating the country through troubled waters until the planned elections.

In parallel, a "Higher Commission for the Achievement of the Objectives of the Revolution and the Democratic Transition", a sort of political reform commission chaired by law professor Yadh Ben Achour, was set up. It includes judges, civil society members and representatives of the major parties that survived years of oppression both in Tunis and in exile. The high commission set up an electoral committee, headed by veteran human rights activist Kamel Jendoubi, which will organise and monitor the planned elections.

In principle all is on track in Tunisia. One may decide to be pessimistic and claim that Islamism is on the rise, leading to an erosion of personal rights and women's rights, that the economy has been in flux since December 2010 and that youth unemployment and poverty in rural areas are still a source of even more instability. A worrying fact is also that members of Ben Ali's dissolved party, the Constitutional Democratic rally, RCD, are clinging to key positions in the security apparatus and the judiciary.

Since Ben Ali's downfall, the country has been rocked by regular demonstrations. Members of civil society see former RCD members behind outbreaks of violence. In one incident, seven people were killed in June in the mining town of Metlaoui, with shops looted and set on fire after rumours circulated that only certain tribes would be offered jobs at the nearby Gafsa phosphate complex.

In early August, thousands protested in Tunis and provincial cities over what they saw as the government`s failure to break with the legacy of Ben Ali. The protests were sparked by the release of former justice minister Bechir Tekkari from prison and the news that Saida Agrebi, a friend of Ben Ali's wife Leila Trabelsi, had fled to Paris.

El-Sebsi promised that his transitional government would take a tougher line on allies of the ousted president. But it seems doubtful that he can do so as his cabinet does not have the legitimacy to introduce serious reforms. Holding all top officials and businessmen accountable for past crimes will not be possible during this transition period. To calm tempers, in June a Tunis court sentenced Ben Ali to 35 years in jail. The former dictator was tried in absentia because Saudi Arabia refuses to extradite him.

"I am a Moslem, I am Tunisian, I am against Ennahda. We do not accept a 

second RCD (party of toppled president Ben Alil)". Protest in Tunis, May 2011

Meanwhile, Ennahda's nebulous policies fuel mistrust, regular protests provoke further instability and Ben Ali loyalists regularly attempt to disrupt the democratic process. Optimism is nonetheless possible, and there is wisdom in the road map Tunisians have developed to move towards a truly open and democratic system. The higher commission and el-Sebsi are widely accepted, while army generals with no political ambitions are guaranteeing overall security and keeping a close eye on the hated police and intelligence apparatus.

In the meantime, Ennahda lost many women's votes when it recently suggested that the best way to solve the problem of youth unemployment would be to pay about 280 US dollars per month for every woman who left her job to stay at home. This was not only a public relations disaster but also economic nonsense.

Afterwards, many religious women, although undecided about whom they would vote for, were clear for whom they would not be voting. Ennahda, "because they have a double-language and because they are against women", I was told.

Ennahda leader Rachid Ghannouchi will marginalise the party if he does not truly democratise. He often says the party wants to be modern and democratic like Turkey`s ruling Justice and Development Party, AKP, but a clear position is missing on universal human rights and on the issue of giving Tunisian women equal rights in heritage. Ennahda means "awakening". Time has come to live up to this name.

Tunisia is also facing other challenges: opposition parties and civil society groups developed survival skills when opposing Ben Ali`s regime at home and in exile, but fighting for ideas in a free society is another art. They are now learning the hard way how to develop political programs and advocacy campaigns and how to win votes and members.

Graffiti in the medina of Tunis, summer 2011

Tunisians are developing at high-speed a democratic culture that will enable them to face four major challenges after elections on October 23 - to create a coalition of several parties to form Tunisia`s first truly legitimate government, to reform the police and judiciary, tackle regional economic imbalances and create jobs for youth as well as starting a process of transitional justice and prosecuting top human rights abusers and corrupt individuals. In parallel, the elected assembly will formulate a new constitution.

The revolution in Tunisia did not end when Ben Ali fled; it has been continuing slowly since then and will take a boost after October 23. The Tunisian people, who abhor violence and extremism, have been and will remain vigilant against a possible counter-revolution. Former RCD cadres, ideological Baathists and fundamentalist Salafists have no chance to win massive fellowship.

I believe Tunisia will develop into an exemplary Arab democracy, despite a bumpy road ahead. "We have many tough years ahead," said Sana Ben Achour, a leading women rights activist. "But have no doubt that Tunisia will overcome all difficulties. And if at some point men do not have the courage to fight anymore Tunisian women will continue fighting because they never give up".

I believe her.

Fouad Hamdan, a former DPA correspondent in Cairo and the Gulf, was the founding executive director of the Arab Human Rights Fund in Beirut in 2008-2010. He set up Greenpeace in Lebanon from 1994-1999. Since January 2011 he has been carrying out democracy-building projects in Tunisia, Libya and Egypt. The article was also published in the IWPR site on the Arab Spring.

Women (+men) from the Arab region at the Venice Biennale 2011 – a view from a political angle

Venice Biennale, 3 June 2011 (my first Biennale) - I entered the dark space of the Saudi Arabian Pavilion and there it is - the “Black Arch” of Raja and Shadia Alem hits you at once. The sisters, who grew up in Mecca in the 1970s and now live in Paris, stun visitors with a huge mirror in the shape of Earth; the back of the mirror is off course black. In front of it is a carpet of more than 1,400 steel balls from which emerges a modern Ka’aba-like cube. 


I take a step back, take a deep breath, watch and hear... To the right of the installation a projection shows a church and Venetian images, and you hear prayers and voices in Italian. Back to near darkness which is followed by another projection of waves at the centre. Again near darkness, then a projection to the left in which you see a mosque and hear prayers and voices in Arabic. Wow!

“Black Arch”, by Raja and Shadia Alem, Saudi Arabia pavilion

Power women Raja and Shadia explain, “Black Arch is about two visions of the world and of two cities, Mecca and Venice, of two cultures that meet”. They tell me in an interview: “Our work is about East and West, man and woman. There are barriers. But we carry all cultures in us. This breaks barriers. Our work makes you feel that you are part of one universe.” So much black in your work, why? Raja answers: “I grew up aware of the physical presence of black all around, of the black silhouettes of Saudi women, the black cloth of the al-Ka’aba and the black stone”.

I ask them if they plan to exhibit their work in Saudi Arabia after the premiere in Venice. “Inshallah”, is the answer with a charming smile. I doubt this would be possible as long as the country is under control of the fundamentalist Wahabi brand of Islam. The Saudi religious police (real name: “The Commission for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vices”) would not tolerate any projection of a church with the sound of Christian prayers. I also doubt they would appreciate the aesthetics of a modern Ka’aba.

Ironically, and this shows the political schizophrenia in Saudi Arabia, the exhibition was financed by four Saudi institutions and firms, among them: The almighty state-controlled oil firm Aramco and – now hold your breath again – the Ministry of Culture and Information. Meanwhile, Saudis will have to travel to Venice if they want to see and feel this amazing work of art.

I cannot but hope that one day Saudi Arabia will have on its soil a museum of modern art. A centre piece of its permanent exhibition should be the “Black Arch”. Saudis can be proud of it. By the anachronistic religious police would be a footnote of the very dark past.


In the nearby pavilion of the United Arab Emirates I am welcomed by a smiling Lateefa Ben Maktoum. Dressed and veiled in black she explains her photo exhibition. Two pictures strike me as sad and critical of the dramatic sociological changes that occurred in Dubai during the past decades. In one picture a faceless and veiled woman looks down against the background of Dubai’s tower buildings. All in a fake green. The other picture shows a picture of a veiled woman with a rather disturbing look in her face. She is standing on wetland facing the Gulf Sea, holding a suitcase and looking towards the horizon. She just wants to flee, as far away and as fast away as possible.

“The last Look”, by Lateefa Ben Maktoum, UAE pavilion

Left: Lateefa watching... (she allows photos only without her face)

“Reflecting”, by Lateefa Ben Maktoum, UAE pavilion

Left: Lateefa watching... (she allows photos only without her face)

It does feel quite lonely to live among towers of glass and steel in the middle of the desert. Does not fit. Will never fit. I would want to flee – into a surreal green world that exists only in fantasies or far away on a boat. But Lateefa strikes back: “I do not see the figures in my images as being lonely. I see them as being captured in a solitary moment of thought. They reflect on their surroundings and the changes that they witness happening around them.” She is a bit uncomfortable with my critical view; I accept her softer approach.

Noteworthy is that Lateefa contributed to the UAE’s art scene by founding Tashkeel, a public studio providing specialist facilities for artists and designers to work together. “An artist needs feedback to grow,” she argues. Check the website of the UAE pavilion and an interview with Lateefa.

In the same pavilion Reem al-Ghaith exhibits her installation about construction in Dubai. A bit chaotic, reflecting the wild construction boom leading the Dubai’s financial crisis in 2008. It is similar to the installation “What’s left of her Land” shown at the Sharjah Biennale in 2009. The official brochure says, “The history, traditions and changing landscape of Dubai and the UAE serve as continuous inspiration to her work... Her pieces ... serve as a form of documentary or visual archive for future generations to bear witness to the changes this country has undergone”.

Reem al-Ghaith, “What’s left of her Land”, UAE pavilion 

The third UAE artist is Abdullah al-Saadi, who observes and contemplates and picks on details. His work centers on “Naked Sweet Potatoes”, which is also the title of his art. Abdullah walked on foot across the desert of the UAE and Oman accompanied by a dog and a donkey. He documented his journey with water colours, a diary, photographs, short films and engravings of sweet potatoes on stones. The latter he describes as “studies of the male and female forms of sweet potatoes”.

Abdullah al-Saadi, “Naked Sweet Potatoes”, UAE pavilion 

Very creative and amusing observations, indeed. Abdullah is no fan of the UAE’s steel and glass towers. He lives in the mountainous region of Khorfakan on the Gulf of Oman. He just loves nature. And I love his work.

To the Iraqi pavilion where six very talented artists interpret the theme of water. Title: “Wounded Water”. And wounded is Iraq and its people, indeed. Remember the ecological disaster former dictator Saddam Hussein created in the southern marshlands by draining them. At the entrance of the pavilion, Walid Siti exhibits on the wall in red: A river-like wound goes from one end to the other in a bloodied landscape in Iraq. The interview he gave me about his art and Iraq is touching.

Walid Sati’s river in bloodied landscape in Iraq

Azad Nanakeli, another Iraqi Kurdish artist, shows a video with a man pouring water over his head. His opposite is himself being polluted by red and yellow toxins. 

Azad Nanakeli’s “destneuj (purification)", Iraqi pavilion

The Egyptian pavilion focuses on Ahmed Basiony, an artist and hero of the Egyptian revolution that toppled dictator Hosny Mubarak early 2011. Ahmed was among the first who marched in Cairo's Tahrir Square. He had his camera with him. The video exhibition shows simultaneously footage he took and news reports. This is a homage to Ahmed who was killed at the age of 33 by a sniper in Cairo on January 28, 2011. He unfortunately did not live to experience real freedom in Egypt. But he and all who gave their lives for Egypt will never be forgotten.

From the brochure about Ahmed Basiony, Egypt pavilion

“The Future of a Promise” is the Biennale’s largest pan-Arab exhibition of contemporary art. Arabs from many states exhibit about 25 works – installations, performances, photography, videos and sculpture art. My favorite is Ziad Abillama’s “Untitled (Arabes)”, a post with signs in all directions showing where Arabs may sail from? The Lebanese artists provokes in Italy where the government is claiming the country is being invaded by Arabs via the island of Lampedusa.

Ziad Abillama’s “Untitled (Arabes)”

Unfortunately I was not able to visit the Syrian pavilion in which Syrian and Italian artists exhibited under the motto "Evolution"- to identify contradiction between subjectivity (desires) and objectivity (daily life). Watch this video. Note that there is a controversy over the fact that most artists and all curators are non-Syrians.

Now don’t be shocked, but when I mean in the title of this blog “Arab region” I include Israel. Its pavilion is amazing – only works of Sigalit Landau on water and peace in a trouble region. My favorite is the “Salt Crystal Fishing Net”. She bought the net from Jaffa fishermen and dipped it  in Dead Sea water. The result is bundle of white mass with crystal reflection. She writes in her brochure, “These fishing nets catch magnificent crystals, beautiful but sterile. A fishing net evokes fertility and life, but there it is caked in deadly amount of salt”.

Sigalit Landau, “Salt Crystal Fishing Net”, Israeli pavilion

Another favorite is her video installation “Laces” in which a girl under a negotiating table binds negotiators together with the laces of their shoes. Sigalit Landau writes, “The negotiating table is not theater or fiction, but rather an engagement, a dream, a lament for the future. This future is the life of the child who appears on the laptop-computer screens”. The slogan of the Israeli Pavilion is “One man’s floor in another man’s feelings”.

Sigalit Landau, video installation “Laces”, Israeli pavilion

Lebanon and Bahrain cancelled last minute. A shame for the governments of these two countries. The Lebanese pavilion was to be titled "Lebanon As a State of Mind". Its curator, George Rabbah, told Art Info in an interview that the cancellation had nothing to do with the fact that Lebanon was without a functioning government for months till mid June 2011. He claims: "(The opposition came) from a lot of the actors of the Lebanese art scene. I found out at some point that the Lebanese scene is partly something that has to do with power positions. There are power centers that control access to funds, etc., and also access to patrons of art because they know them, in a way. I don't want to sound too paranoid, but I'm not the only one that's shocked".

In Bahrain authorities in 2011 have been trying to crush a pro-democracy movement - so no time to think about art. Reminder: In 2010, Bahrain won the Golden Lion for best national participation at that year's Architecture Biennale with a wonderful exhibition of original fishermen huts.

A few lines about the Venice Biennale which was launched in 1895: Since then countries offer their artists a showcase in pavilions funded by government institutions, firms and/or private donors. 89 national pavilions opened their doors in Venice in 2011, the highest number ever. Germany won in 2011 the Biennale’s highest honor, the Golden Lion for best national contribution. The work is by Christoph Schlingensief, the German artist who died in August 2010. His "Church of Fear" installation is a massive critique against society and the Church. 


It was my first Biennale, and it was fascinating because it saw how art is very political - and not only in the Arab region. Artists have been playing a crucial role in countries under dictatorships (softly destabilizing them), and they helped topple dictators (remember Ahmed Basiony). Arabs can be proud of most of the work exhibited in Venice in 2011, the year of Arab democracy on the rise. My dream is that one day Palestinians and Israelis exhibit together in Venice, and that Arab artists can exhibit anything they wish in every Arab state. No more fear, no censorship and no taboos.

NB: Impossible to write about art from the Arab region at the mother of Biennales without visiting the US and Iranian pavilions. 

I love the tank on its head in front of the US pavilion. On top a person regularly jogs on a functioning treadmill. When the person runs, the tank engine roars and the chains turn. Watch the video of a ridiculous and helpless monster. Typically big and ... American! John Lennon would have loved it!

Allora & Galzadilla, "Tank and Field", US pavilion

In the state-sponsored Iranian pavilion, a heartbreaking installation of Morteza Darehbaghi with pictures of human losses during the war Iran-Iraq 1980-1988.

.Morteza Darehbaghi, Iranian pavilion

Fouad Hamdan is an independent Arab pro-democracy activist who established and headed Greenpeace Lebanon in 1994-1999 and was the founding executive director of the Arab Human Rights Fund in Beirut in 2008-2010. Since January 2011 he is advising on a voluntary basis Arab NGOs and activists, and he is working as a consultant for Media in Cooperation and Transition and the Global Campaign for Climate Action. From May-September 2011 he is heading a pro-democracy project in Tunisia. He also trains Tunisian and Egyptian NGOs on developing communications strategies.

Tunisia in May 2011 - Revolution Reloaded?

Tunis, 7th May 2011 - I saw in the Tunisian capital how police attacked with teargas and batons protesters demanding the start of a new revolution "Asha3eb yurid thawra min jadid!" (The people want a new revolution). 

Bourguiba Avenue, 6 May 2011

Tension has been rising in Tunisia since a former minister warned of a possible coup by loyalists of the ousted regime of Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali if Islamists from the Ennahda party win elections for a Constitutional Council scheduled on July 24.


Scenes of violence took place all over the country and in the city center in and around Habib Bourguiba Avenue where the infamous Interior Ministry is located. Tear gas was fired in all directions, policemen in uniforms or in civilian and hiding their faces behind masks attacked bystanders and journalists, took away their mobiles and cameras and smashed them. I saw one of them attacking a young girl, throwing her mobile phone on the asphalt and verbally abusing her.

No way I could use my camera or mobile as I was between police and not in mid of demonstration. I would have been attacked at once. Policemen in civilian were everywhere. A German journalist from NDR TV, two meters behind me, was taken away by a security guy and interrogated for a while before being allowed to walk away.


The policemen used brutal force against peaceful protesters because they were heading to the interior ministry from streets leading to Habib Bourguiba Avenue. This grey and ugly building from the 1970s is surrounded by barbed wire and protected by army troops. Imagine, the army protecting policemen from the people...


In the nearby Avenue de Paris, glass, waste and burned tires everywhere. Police vans race trough it, jump out, chase peaceful demonstrators to beat them up and curse. They leave the road quickly. I can see that all bystanders in the area just hate them. The policemen know it and feel unsafe. They just behave like an occupying force...

Avenue de Paris, 7 May 2011

   
Demonstrators I spoke to said they mistrust the transitional government and officials in the system. They say a "counter-revolution" is being carried out by the cronies of the former dictator. Ahmed Dermech, a young student, told me, "We will not give away our newly won freedom. We will go to the streets until our revolution is 100% won". More demos are planned tomorrow.



One funny interesting happened. I was speaking with a Tunisian TV team on Habib Bourguiba Avenue on May 7 when a high-ranking police officer approached us and said: "I like to apologize to the media for the attacks committed by policemen yesterday. Please understand that they are not used of being filmed. It was always forbidden to film them, and now they are afraid that their faces and names will be on Facebook. Please put on your jackets in big letters 'Press' and I assure you that nothing will happen to you."


The Tunisian journalists asked if would repeat it all in front of the camera, he said he was not allowed to do so. He was very credible, but it remains to be seen if a change of behavior will really take place.

Anyhow, one thing is crystal clear: Tunisians still have a long and arduous road until they set up a real democracy. 23 years of dictatorship cannot be undone in a blink. Changing the mentality of tens of thousands that profited directly from oppression and corruption will probably take a generation or two.


But I have no doubt that Tunisians will succeed. 63 parties have already been registered since the dictatorship collapsed last January 14; hundreds of NGOs and media outlets  have applied for a permit. In Tunis, I am breathing freedom despite all the trouble. This no one can take away from Tunisians anymore. Everyone I spoke to shouted it!

Bourguiba Avenue, ugly building on left is the interior ministry, 7 May 2011

                                   

Bourguiba Avenue, Africa hotel left. 7 May 2011

Meanwhile, I am blogging from the Carlton Hotel near the interior ministry. I cannot venture outside anymore because of the curfew from 9pm (Saturday 7 May) till 5am (Sunday 8 May). The only bar still open was in the nearby Africa Hotel. I enjoyed there the great local beer, Celtia, and walked trough ghost town Tunis till about 10pm when policemen shouted from far away. OK, OK, I walked in the hotel and started writing these lines and uploading the photos I took.


Background from Reuters: Former interior minister Farhat Rajhi said last Thursday that there could be a "coup" by loyalists of former dictator Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali if Islamists from the Ennahda party won the July 24 elections.



Until August 2011 I will head in Tunis a team that will hold interviews and carry out research about each party fighting for seats for the Constitutional Council that is to be elected on July 24. Data about political positions on key issues will be on a website in French and Arabic to help Tunisians chose who to vote for. The project is carried out by the German NGO Media in Cooperation and Transition. It did something similar in Sudan in 2010.


Fouad Hamdan is an independent Arab pro-democracy activist who established and headed Greenpeace Lebanon in 1994-1999 and was the founding executive director of the Arab Human Rights Fund in 2008-2010. Since then he advising on a voluntary basis Arab NGOs and activists, and he is working as a consultant for  Media in Cooperation and Transition and the Global Campaign for Climate Action.

A bus, the civil war and Lebanon`s lost memory

Remember that little bus that carried Palestinians from West Beirut to their refugee camp in Tel al-Zaatar, East Beirut, on the 13^th of April 1975? The Lebanese civil war officially started on that day when Christian Phalange militiamen shot and killed 27 Palestinians in that bus while they drove through the Christian Ain el-Rummaneh neighbourhood. From that moment on Lebanon entered hell. For almost 15 years.

Bus owner Sami Hamdan, in front of the bus in 2007. (c) AP

On that day I was 15. I lived in Moslem Ras el-Nabeh, West Beirut, close to the frontline opposite Christian Sodeco. My school was the Grand Lycee in nearby Christian Ashrafieh, 10 minutes by bicycle. When the shooting started between Ain el-Rummeneh and Moslen Chiah “our” area suddenly filled with guys totting Kalashnikov machine guns. They took control of the streets and spoke about defeating the pro-Western Phalanges and liberating Palestine. In “their” areas guys carried similar arms and vowed to liberate Lebanon from Palestinians and communists. These Cold War years seem like centuries ago.

I remember burned out public buses, stoned militiamen firing for no reason in the air and a sniper from the other side who from his angle could only hit the Western side of Omar Ben Khattab road where my family home was located. We received 61mm mortar shells, then 120mm mortar shells, then Grad and Katyusha missiles; the other side got similar ones, too. The sound of silence after an explosion was terrifying. The screaming of frightened neighbors or the wounded in streets guaranteed sleepless nights.

I narrowly escaped being kidnapped by the Phalange while cycling to school during a ceasefire in June 1975. From far away I saw them close to the school entrance, took a side road back to Ras El-Nabeh and did not see the school till 1990. This is when I realized that the words “Moslem Shia” in my ID could mean death.  

So many pictures are still engraved in my memory, like the unknown gunmen I saw executing five men, probably Christians, in Bshara el-Khoury road in 1976. Just around the corner, the burned out corpses of kidnapped Christians were neatly lined under the bridge near Berbir Hospital. The other side dumped the copses of kidnapped Moslems under other bridges. Since then, I just do not like bridges.

Off course, the war did not start out of the blue with the bus massacre 31 years ago on the 13^th of April. The civil war has its roots in a sectarian system formulated by the French mandate power in the 1920s, in the screaming inequalities between rich and poor, in Palestinians being robbed of their homeland and in the inability of Lebanese to unite, refuse foreign interference and solve their problems with non-violent means.

So insanity lasted almost 15 years and officially ended in October 1990. The result: About  150,000 people killed, many more injured and maimed, one million internally displaced and many more in emigration. Beirut’s city center was destroyed, the infrastructure shattered, forests burnt, the coastline dotted with open waste dumps. But phoenix superficially rose from the ashes and the country was quickly rebuilt. Economically, that is. Beirut became the Arab city to live in. Mega cool, sexy and just fun. That is if you forget the mass poverty in many areas, especially in North Lebanon.

Divisions, divisions and more divisions

21 years after the end of the civil war – one whole generation later – Lebanon is as divided as in 1975. The main fault lines: 

_ Sunni Moslems blame the Shia Hezbollah militia for killing former Sunni Prime Minister Rafik Hariri in 2005 with an international UN tribunal to issue indictments soon. Expect a Sunni-Shia confrontation in one way or another. 

_ Christian Maronites are more divided then ever between pro- and anti-Hezbollah. Syria’s and Iran’s dictatorial regimes arm Hezbollah, a state in the state of Lebanon, to pressure Israel and the West. 

_ Prime Minister-designate Najib Mikati, Hezbollah`s and Syria's  choice, is unable to form a cabinet. 

The country is in a mess and could blow up any minute.

Despite a general atmosphere of gloom and doom Lebanese youth groups launched early 2011 an anti-sectarianism movement, inspired by uprisings in Tunisia, Egypt and other Arab states. It started well with more and more people participating in sit-ins and demonstrations, but the movement got bogged down because of internal divisions and a lack of strategy. The Shia Amal movement tried to hijack the movement and supported abolishing the sectarian system, reviving a deep-rooted Christian Maronite angst. The Phalange accused Amal of seeking to establish the rule of the demographically largest religious communities (Sunni and Shia) over Christians. Back to square one, 13^th April 1975.

Anti-sectarianism demonstration, Beirut, 10 April 2011

The Taef Accord, superficial peace with no reconciliation

Lebanon did not recover from the civil war because the 1989 Taef accord, which ended the all-out shooting a year later, did not end the mistrust among the communities and political factions. It just made cosmetic changes to a sectarian system that guaranteed warlords from all sides a well-defined piece of the big pie called Lebanon. The Christians then lost some privileges and had to share the pie 50-50 with Moslems, instead of 60-40. In principle not much changed: Institutions were kept weak, corruption grew, Palestinians were still armed in their camps because they trusted no one and almost all Lebanese politicians kept relying on foreign backers in Riyadh and Washington or in Damascus and Tehran.

Add to this the fact that some main points of the Taef accord were never implemented. All militias were disarmed expect Hezbollah which fought Israeli occupation in the South, but kept its arms after the Israeli withdrawal in May 2000 – in line with the regional interests of Syria and Iran. Syrian troops did not withdraw as stipulated in the accord, but were forced out after mass demonstrations in 2005. The Taef accord said, “Abolishing political secterianism is a fundamental national objective. To achieve it, it is required that efforts be made in accordance with a phased plan”. This was never seriously tackled by the political class.

The worst part of the Lebanese history is that parliament, controlled by the warlords, passed in 1991 an amnesty for crimes committed during the war. This "amnesia law" is one major cause for the many wars and internal disturbances Lebanon has been going through since 1990. Lebanon never had a true national reconciliation process. Beside one brave former top-level militiaman, Assaad Chaftari from the Christian Lebanese Forces, no militia leader genuinely apologized for his crimes. No one asked the victims and their families for forgiveness. No one said where missing people are buried.

Allow me to name the warlords who are today still in powerful positions: Nabih Berri (Shia/Amal), Walid Jumblatt (Druze/Progressive Socialist Party), Amine Gemayel (Maronite/Phalange), Samir Geagea (Maronite/Lebanese Forces), Michel Aoun (Maronite/former Army commander). Hesbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah, who came to power after the civil war, followed their path by igniting a senseless war with Israel in 2006 (some 1,300 dead Lebanese). In May 2008 he sent his gunmen to storm West Beirut and the Chuf mountains (100-200 killed). Today, Hezbollah arms are used to threaten Shia opposing Hezbollah and all other sects.

National reconciliation as a prelude for real peace

How can the Lebanese prevent another April 13 with devastating consequences? How can this divided nation unite for a true peace process? I believe that political steps must be taken to set up a truth finding process leading to a true national reconciliation. 

The group al-Muqawimoun warning with 

a banner, "The bus (war) is waiting around the corner".

The International Center for Transitional Justice (ICTJ) believes that effective transitional justice must include several measures complementing one another. “Without any truth-telling or reparation efforts, for example, punishing a small number of perpetrators can be viewed as a form of political revenge. Truth-telling, in isolation from efforts to punish abusers and to make institutional reforms, can be viewed as nothing more than words. Reparations that are not linked to prosecutions or truth-telling may be perceived as ‘blood money’ – an attempt to buy the silence or acquiescence of victims. Similarly, reforming institutions without any attempt to satisfy victims' legitimate expectations of justice, truth and reparation, is not only ineffective from the standpoint of accountability, but unlikely to succeed in its own terms”.

“Transitional justice should be designed to strengthen democracy and peace – the key goals for societies picking up the pieces after periods of mass abuse,” ICTJ notes. “These goals are more likely to be reached with active consultation of, and participation by, victims groups and the public... A holistic approach implies taking into account the full range of factors that may have contributed to abuse”.

But what are the conditions we need in Lebanon to set up a national reconciliation process? How can we get the former warlords to admit, apologize and at least retire from politics once and for all? Do we have to wait until the Syrian regime collapses under the current pressure from a pro-democracy movement all over the country? This would definitely not amuse Hezbollah as it would lose its political and military hinterland – and then feel threatened. 

I think the solution may be in an anti-sectarianism movement that is well organized and which has a clear strategy. This movement should be able to alleviate fears in each sect and mobilize all the Lebanese for a truly democratic society where religion and state are separated. A dream, I know. One great slogan could be “A-sha3eb yourid isqat zu3ama al-taefiyeh”, in English, “The people want to topple the sectarian leaders!”

The bus at "Hangar", April 2011. (c) Soha Menassa

Back to the small bus that brings back so many bad memories. Memory and memorialisation play a crucial role in a national reconciliation process. Umam Research and Development, a Lebanese NGO in Beirut’s southern suburbs, is currently working on a database of people that went missing during the civil war. Its staff recently rescued the bus from disappearance and hauled it into the “Hangar”, Umam’s exhibition hall, where it is now the center piece of an exhibition. Go see it. We should never forget this bus.

Fouad Hamdan is an independent Arab pro-democracy activist who established and headed Greenpeace Lebanon in 1994-1999 and was the founding executive director of the Arab Human Rights Fund in 2008-2010. 

Why Arabs and Japanese media report about horror differently -- Time for an Arab Media Code of Ethics as winds of freedom blowing

The images of Japanese towns eradicated by the tsunami on March 18 are horrific. The ones of bloody street protests and of fighting in Libya, Bahrain, Oman, Yemen and other Arab countries moving towards democracy are shocking, too.  When following events simultaneously, in disaster-struck Japan and in troubled Arab countries, one cannot but notice that both societies have different styles in reporting about calamities and human suffering.

TV reports literally beam you in front and above the waves that destroyed cities and killed thousands in Japan. The images that stick are of cars and houses being washed away and of large areas littered with all sorts of vehicles and debris. Near total destruction you see in doomsday films like “War of the Worlds” and “Armageddon” – or in black-and-white documentaries of Hiroshima and Nagasaki that were flattened by US atomic bombs in 1945.

In none of the tsunami footage broadcasted by Japanese and foreign TV stations, and in none of the following reports by foreign teams on the ground did I see corpses, except rare scenes of rescue workers carrying victims on stretchers. These victims are covered and hardly visible, no wounds, no blood. Dramatic tsunami footage always stops the second waves eating homes and landscapes get close to people in cars trying to escape death. You just do not see people close-ups of badly wounded, dead or dying.

In contrast, images from Libya and Yemen, where dictators hang to power and order policemen and soldiers to shoot, are different. I see bullet wounds, mutilated bodies and pools of blood on streets. Hospital staffs have no problem allowing cameramen to violate the privacy of patients.

In Japan, there is respect for the dignity of victims and their grieving relatives. Why show mud-covered bodies when the devastation on the ground is horrific enough to make your heart bleed? Why zoom in on mutilated bodies? Imagine gruesome details if you wish. The images of razed cities are tragic enough. No need for maxi horror.

The Japanese media follow an ethical code not enshrined in law as this would violate the right for free expression in a democratic system. Foreign correspondents in Japan respect this code, even al-Jazeera TV. Switch to the world’s most famous TV station and to many other Arab TVs and wonder why this code is respected when it comes to Japan. But the moment they report from the Gaza-Israel frontline or from Libya “blood flows to the knees” (Arabic saying).

This trend started sometime in the 1980s when two events happened at the same time. First, private TV stations mushroomed and more camera teams were sent to troubled areas, all competing for the attention of coach potato consumers. The more gruesome, the more viewers are glued to screens, so the logic of media managers. Second, autocratic regimes allowed TV stations to show in detail how Israeli soldiers kill Palestinians and Lebanese. The aim has been to divert popular frustration and anger on Israel. I will not elaborate on tasteless advertisements between tragedies in the Gaza Strip or in southern Lebanon.

Arab newspapers were under pressure, especially after photos on websites and amateur films on YouTube crossed any remaining ethical line by showing what even Al-Jazeera TV did not. Many followed suit and printed pictures that would never find their way in Japanese or European media. Sadly, most Arab media and amateur internet journalists do not ask themselves what impact showing horror has on the sanity of viewers and readers, especially children. Is this good for the Palestinian cause? Does this encourage more violence? Does this make violence banal? Does it increase fear, and does fear lead to more violence?

University of Michigan professor L. Rowell Huesmann argues that 50 years of evidence show “that exposure to media violence causes children to behave more aggressively and affects them as adults years later”. Jonathan Freedman of the University of Toronto claims that “the scientific evidence simply does not show that watching violence either produces violence in people, or desensitizes them to it”. Se there is no consensus among experts on the question whether exposure to media violence increases levels of aggression and violence in youth. I believe Mr. Huesmann.

Back to the Arab media: I am against laws trying to stifle internet and conventional media. Politicians should not fiddle with the principle of freedom of expression; this is an untouchable universal human right. However, Arab associations of journalists and publishers have a responsibility to formulate and adhere to a modern media code of ethics. We do not need to show violence and pain in detail. We do not need shocking images from the occupied Palestinian territories to be convinced that Israeli troops are committing crimes against humanity.

Japan`s  “Cannon of Journalism”, adopted in 2001, reads, “Respect for Human Rights: Member newspapers should pay utmost respect to the dignity of human beings, put a high value on individuals’ honour and give serious consideration to their right to privacy”. The respect of human rights is a headline; you cannot be clearer.  In contrast, the outdated “Arab Code of Ethics”, adopted by the Federation of Arab Journalists in Baghdad in 1972, is weak on that subject when it reads, “Journalists adhere to respect the right of individuals to privacy and dignity”.

The Islamic Media Charter, adopted by the International Islamic Mass Media Conference in Jakarta in 2000, promotes “Islamic values and ethical principles”. It says, “Islamic media men should censor all material which is either broadcast or published in order to protect the Ummah from influences which are harmful to Islamic character”.

In Nazareth, the Palestinian Media Center I’lam in 2008 published “The Media Charter – Code of Ethics for Palestinians in Israel”. Under the headlines “Objectivity and human rights” it says that “in their coverage, journalists must rely on general, universal values and on human rights.” It adds, “Objectivity, as a supreme professional value, is consistent with human rights, human freedom, human dignity and other such values.” This document is quite good, but it does not explicitly elaborate on media violence.

In the light of the current pro-democracy wave in the Arab region, time has come for Arab journalists to rethink how they report about violence and natural disasters. They should formulate a new Arab Media Code of Ethics enshrining freedom of expression and respecting dignity and privacy of people. Strictly religious media outlets should have the rights to promote their beliefs as they wish. All other private and state-owned outlets should be open to all political opinions and religious beliefs in a fair way. On media violence, time has come to stop desensitizing and traumatizing Arab societies.

Fouad Hamdan is an independent Arab pro-democracy activist who established and headed Greenpeace Lebanon in 1994-1999 and was the founding executive director of the Arab Human Rights Fund in 2008-2010. He was a journalist at the German Press Agency from 1987-1992.