Admittedly, the retreat from the language of “revolution” to that of “revolt” may imply uncertainty about the future evolution of protests across the Middle East and North Africa; at the same time, the shift also evokes the 19th century “Arab revolt” against Ottoman rule, which was subsequently followed by colonialism and autocratic rule in the region. Nonetheless, the reality and dynamics of the movement in Libya cannot be subsumed under a negative presumption of its future without distorting the Libyan people’s struggle as it unfolds. Not only does the concept “rebel” connote a temporary condition, it also obscures the legitimacy of the people’s actions.
Shocked by the recent events that have rocked a number of countries in the Middle East and North Africa, American media outlets and analysts have been thrown into a state of disarray and have been struggling to describe the on-going developments. With images of generally unarmed protesters defying police and military forces, from dawn to dusk, waiving fists, flags and signs, some reporters and analysts have expressed fear that Islamists might rise to power. Others have expressed a romantic elation at the widespread revolution in the Arab world borne by a young population unexpectedly speaking of freedom and liberty, ideals long presented as typically “Western”, in a language, English (or Arabic instantaneously translated into English on Twitter) that they understand. “We” were there with them, vicariously experiencing the thrill of speaking to power, resisting power, striving to usher in a new era. Remarkably, while we understood the protestors’ hopes, we could not find the language with which to communicate their struggle.
It Began in Tunisia
The revolts that began in Tunisia, on December 17, 2010, caused bewilderment amongst Western observers, who had traditionally divided the region into “those who are with us” (including Tunisia’s President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali) and those deemed hostile to “us and “our values” of freedom and democracy. Anxiety about the symbolic significance for other regional countries of the ouster of President Ben Ali on January 14 was allayed in two related ways. First, analysts and journalists reinforced the widely held notion that Tunisia was an exceptional North African country in North Africa, immune from the influence of Islamism. With its “secular” character and women in “ bikinis” on the beach, Tunisia could not possibly transform into an Islamist state. Before it became clear that the uprising had ignited within the neglected and impoverished Eastern region and that busloads of mainly poor Tunisians had swelled the angry crowds in Tunis, the media uniformly identified the protestors as middle class professionals.
Secondly, analyses of the Tunisian demonstrations erased the country’s Arabness, depicting the country as an heir to the Roman Empire and its culture, which had left its mark on both the scenery and the country’s tradition of government. From the perspective of this historical revisionist account, the closer Tunisian towns are to old Roman ruins, the more developed and prosperous they must be. Because towns in the East of the country fall below the line drawn by the Roman general Scipio, separating civilization from barbarism, it is of no surprise that Tunisia’s Eastern towns have remained poor, with high rates of unemployment, and have been prone to unrest. Most importantly, as the story goes, Tunisia, a “real” state with Roman roots, is immune to the presumed cycle of protests begetting more dictatorships begetting more protests that purportedly typify other “Arab” states. The ideological intent behind this reference to Tunisia’s Roman past is best illustrated by the comparison made with neighboring Algeria, which, in spite of its Roman ruins, is deemed unable to evolve a Tunisian-style protest. As such, the uprising in Tunisia, presented as atavistically Roman, nearly European and secular, was deemed distinctively localized, unique and different from the experiences of the Arab world. The Tunisian protests, particularly their “secular” nature, could not possibly spread to the rest of this region, which was inherently incapable of evolving democratic institutions.
And Then Came Egypt
But then in a twist only history can pull off, Tunisia did inspire Egypt, a country with a state coeval with Rome. However, now, Western analysts focused on social networking sites like Facebook, instead of the imagined shadow of Rome, as the force helping to unite the youths of Tunisia and Egypt in their common desire for change. Still, the media lacked the appropriate terms to describe and understand the Egyptian protests. Reporters in Cairo ceaselessly characterized protesters as “anti-Mubarak ”, as they interviewed young women and men who spoke of freedom and democracy. Finally, John King of CNN and Nicholas D. Kristof of the New York Times began calling a spade a spade, labeling the protests as a “pro-democracy” movement. In the word “revolution”, the media also found a handle on the remarkable display of popular enthusiasm and determination that was rapidly spreading across Egypt. At moments, reporters speaking from Cairo stumbled on their words, hardly able to contain their emotions and amazement at the spectacle unfolding before their eyes in the last days of the protests. The scenes struck a nostalgic image of people peacefully reclaiming their lives and seeking to change their governments for the better, an event previously seen as exclusive to the West. The aftermaths of the “Orange Revolution” and the Tiananmen Square uprising were evoked by some as a way of dampening the enthusiasm of reporters for events unfolding on the ground. Nevertheless, the notion that Egypt was in “revolution” held on. With the rise of the Egyptian pro-democracy movement, Tunisian “uniqueness” gave way to the “domino theory”, as a means of explaining and predicting protests in other regional countries.
The Libyan Movement
But the shift in the media’s language about the region, from a focus on terrorism towards one of freedom, inspired by Tunisia and Egypt, may have been short lived. Currently, mainstream media reports about the Libyan people’s challenge to Muammar Qaddafi’s 42-year autocratic rule describe the protesters as “rebels” and their movement as “a revolt.” Currently, The New York Times has even devoted a daily section of the paper to the “Region in Revolt.” Admittedly, the retreat from the language of “revolution” to that of “revolt” may imply uncertainty about the future evolution of protests across the Middle East and North Africa; at the same time, the shift also evokes the 19th century “Arab revolt” against Ottoman rule, which was subsequently followed by colonialism and autocratic rule in the region. Nonetheless, the reality and dynamics of the movement in Libya cannot be subsumed under a negative presumption of its future without distorting the Libyan people’s struggle as it unfolds. Not only does the concept “rebel” connote a temporary condition, it also obscures the legitimacy of the people’s actions. Furthermore, reference to Rome incongruously resurfaced once again, in a New York Times article about Libya, which mentioned that Sabratha, a town in which intense fighting erupted, had been “home [to] an important Roman archeological site”.
Conclusion
Whether romanticizing the peoples’ active engagement in political change, as was the case with Egypt, defining a popular movement in dubious terms, as is currently happening with regards to Libya, or misleadingly historicizing an uprising as in Tunisia, the fact remains that the Western mainstream media has yet to come to terms with both the singularity and commonality of peoples’ aspirations throughout the Middle East and North Africa. Each time, the media’s choice of language has betrayed a propensity to simplify a very complex reality that has for decades eluded recognition, as well as to generalize events in ways that reinforce the abiding prejudice that “Arab” governments are inherently repressive and Arab people naturally submissive. That these governments were propped up with the active support of Western countries goes without saying and yet it has remained largely unsaid in most news reports, both before and during the current regional uprisings. Such support, while useful for geopolitical reasons, was also widely believed to be necessary and harmless, since the Arab peoples could not aspire to and did not deserve democratic institutions; similarly, the local potentates justified their own repressive rule as necessitated by their peoples’ purported “undemocratic” nature. Notably, Nicolas Kristof, who was present for a number of the regional revolts, finally denounced this view, identifying its erroneous foundation and convenience for Western powers.
In spite of everything, events in the Middle East and North Africa have forced the media and the Western public to glimpse a reality they have long ignored: that there is a popular will in the region that can express itself in ways that “we” have identified exclusively with “our” history of protest for civil rights, policy change and the like. While we have come a long way from speaking about the Arab people in terms of the “The Arab Street,” the shifting language in reporting is only the beginning of a needed humanization of “the Arabs”, living different lives in their separate countries, yet aspiring to values that “we” all share.
*Marnia Lazreg is professor of sociology at the Graduate Center and Hunter College-the City University of New York. She is the author of Torture and the Twilight of Empire, and Questioning the Veil: Open Letters to Muslim Women (Princeton University Press).
