tag:theconversation.com,2011:/us/topics/habib-bourguiba-58095/articlesHabib Bourguiba – The Conversation2022-08-11T15:25:13Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1880262022-08-11T15:25:13Z2022-08-11T15:25:13ZBourguiba did a lot for Tunisian women. But was he their emancipator?<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/478707/original/file-20220811-14-y4negy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Demonstrators gather in support of women's rights and equal justice in Tunis in June 2022. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photo by Yassine Mahjoub/NurPhoto via Getty Images</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Tunisia’s <a href="https://publicholidays.africa/tunisia/womens-day/">National Women’s Day</a> is often associated with <a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Habib-Bourguiba">Habib Bourguiba</a>, the country’s first president, who pursued the policy of state feminism. Bourguiba ruled the country for 30 years after its independence from France in 1957. In 1987 he was ousted in a coup d’etat by <a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Zine-al-Abidine-Ben-Ali">Zine El Abedine Ben Ali</a>. Bourguiba’s state feminist policies earned him the <a href="https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978-3-030-44617-8_10#:%7E:text=Habib%20Bourguiba%20made%20the%20best,%E2%80%9Cliberator%20of%20Tunisian%20woman%E2%80%9D.">moniker</a> of the emancipator and liberator of Tunisian women. </p>
<p>But was he really their emancipator? </p>
<p>Like most Tunisian women, I grew up thinking this idea was true because this was the message the Tunisian educational system and media had communicated. When I started researching the history of the Tunisian feminist movement, however, I discovered that the reality was much more complex.</p>
<h2>Bourguiba’s state feminism</h2>
<p>State feminism refers to the government’s adoption of policies that foster women’s rights and improve women’s lives. Bourguiba was the <a href="https://www.e-ir.info/2020/07/27/state-feminism-and-the-islamist-secularist-binary-womens-rights-in-tunisia/">pioneer of state feminism</a> in Tunisia. He used his powers to pass reforms that vastly improved women’s legal status. </p>
<p>These reforms were imposed from the top down and promoted women’s rights in a number of areas. </p>
<p>A few months after the country’s independence from France, Bourguiba instated the Personal Status Code. This granted women unprecedented liberties and social autonomy. It eliminated men’s practice of immediate divorce and provided equal divorce rights for women and men. Women’s consent became required for marriage. The <a href="https://www.judicaelleirakoze.org/patreon-post-state-feminism-in-tunisia/">right of a guardian</a> to marry off a woman without her permission was abolished. Polygamy was also outlawed. </p>
<p>As a result of these changes, the <a href="https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978-3-030-44617-8_10#:%7E:text=Habib%20Bourguiba%20made%20the%20best,%E2%80%9Cliberator%20of%20Tunisian%20woman%E2%80%9D.">labels</a> “the father of feminism” and “Tunisian women’s liberator” were given to Bourguiba. The labels reflected the paternalistic and patriarchal aspect of the Bourguibist feminist policies. They also mirrored the state’s monopolisation of the feminist cause. </p>
<p>In reality, Bourguiba deliberately marginalised Tunisia’s autonomous feminism. Different women’s unions appeared in the pre-independence period. Yet, after independence, Bourguiba opposed, <a href="https://www.cairn-int.info/journal-nouvelles-questions-feministes-2014-2-page-4.htm">marginalised and dissolved</a> them. He outlawed their activities in the name of “national unity” and <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/03056244.2017.1391770">replaced</a> them with the National Union of Tunisian Women in 1958. </p>
<p>The result, according to Tunisian researcher Chouaib Elhajjaji, <a href="https://www.opendemocracy.net/chouaib-el-hajjaji/feminism-in-tunisia-brutal-hijacking-elitism-and-exclusion">was that</a> he killed the grassroots movement and turned it into a government sponsored one.</p>
<p>Bourguiba co-opted women’s rights by linking the National Union of Tunisian Women to his <a href="https://www.britannica.com/topic/Democratic-Constitutional-Rally">Socialist Destourian Party</a>. He transformed the Women’s Union into a tool for his state feminism. </p>
<p>The result was an ambiguous policy. It <a href="https://journals.openedition.org/clio/286?amp%3Bid=286&lang=en">presented</a> itself as freeing and modernising, while maintaining a level of conservatism. This is what <a href="https://journals.warwick.ac.uk/index.php/feministdissent/article/view/292">explains</a> Bourguiba’s reinforcement of women’s traditional roles as wives, mothers and guardians of Islamic tradition in his speeches, despite his revolutionary ideas.</p>
<p>Co-opting women’s rights served his nationalist agenda, but not the feminist cause. The women’s union could not criticise the state’s gender politics. </p>
<p>My reading at Tunisia’s National Archives allowed me to notice the constant praise of Bourguiba in the publications of the Tunisian Women’s Union, particularly its journal Femme (Woman). The journal refers to Bourguiba repeatedly as the emancipator of Tunisian women. Indeed, the fact that he appointed the union’s first president, <a href="https://www.rfi.fr/fr/podcasts/20200308-radhia-haddad-pr%C3%A9sidente-femmes">Radhia Haddad</a>, reflects his hegemony over this female organisation.</p>
<p>Haddad herself would later <a href="https://journals.warwick.ac.uk/index.php/feministdissent/article/view/292">criticise</a> the lack of freedom of expression and association. Other feminist activists, like Amal Ben Aba and <a href="https://nawaat.org/2013/04/24/zeineb-turki-du-parti-al-jomhouri-la-priorite-est-de-realiser-une-paix-sociale">Zeineb Cherni</a>, also joined in denouncing <a href="https://journals.warwick.ac.uk/index.php/feministdissent/article/view/292">the state’s hold on feminism</a>. The state cracked down on them.</p>
<p>This created a need for an independent form of activism capable of acting outside the state agenda. As a result, an <a href="https://www.cairn.info/revue-nouvelles-questions-feministes-2014-2-page-4.htm">autonomous feminist movement</a> emerged in Tunisia in the 1980s. </p>
<h2>Independent feminism</h2>
<p>The independent groups signalled their divergence from the government’s official “feminist” structures. They allied themselves with opposition parties because they saw a link between the fight against sexism and the fight against authoritarianism. </p>
<p>Tunisian feminists chose to qualify their activism as “autonomous” to <a href="https://www.cairn.info/revue-nouvelles-questions-feministes-2014-2-page-4.htm">differentiate</a> it from the state’s approach.</p>
<p>For instance, in 1987, the <a href="http://alraidajournal.com/index.php/ALRJ/article/view/1323">Tahar Haddad cultural club</a> was founded as part of the push for independent voices. Its growth was challenged by Bourguiba’s decision that only his women’s union could operate. This hindered the actual <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/03056244.2017.1391770">political representation </a> of the autonomous women’s movement. </p>
<p>The Tunisian independent feminist movement wanted to end the patronage of Bourguiba over women’s rights. Activist Sana Ben Achour illustrates this in her <a href="https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/as/2018-v42-n1-as03619/1045124ar/">comment</a> on the determination of the independent feminists who founded the Tahar Haddad Club to achieve their goals in spite of Bourguiba:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Our relationship {with the National Union of Tunisian Women} was conflictual because the Tunisian feminist movement was born out of the will to break with tutelage, more particularly with the father figure, the figure of Bourguiba … We no longer wanted to hear the discourse, which made Bourguiba know what was best for us, women.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Ben Achour throws light on the important problem of Bourguiba’s appropriation of achievements made in the women’s rights arena. This centralises the father cult. It also erases the role that Tunisian women’s rights activists played in advancing women’s rights. The most notorious example of this erasure is the Personal Status Code, which was celebrated as Bourguiba’s achievement. </p>
<p>As <a href="https://www.opendemocracy.net/chouaib-el-hajjaji/feminism-in-tunisia-brutal-hijacking-elitism-and-exclusion">Elhajjaji</a> explains, this has resulted in</p>
<blockquote>
<p>ignoring the female activists who fought for these laws. School history books rarely mention names such as <a href="https://oxfordre.com/africanhistory/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780190277734.001.0001/acrefore-9780190277734-e-683">Bchira Ben Mrad</a>, Radhia Haddad and <a href="https://www.opendemocracy.net/en/feminism-in-tunisia-brutal-hijacking-elitism-and-exclusion/">Manoubia Ouertani</a>, but instead, it’s Bourguiba who is celebrated as the women’s ‘saviour’ and ‘liberator.’ </p>
</blockquote>
<p><a href="https://www.opendemocracy.net/en/5050/state-feminism-in-tunisia-reading-between-lines/">Amira Mhadhbi</a>, who exposes the oppressive aspect of Bourguiba’s state feminism, illustrates this further:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>President Bourguiba was declared the ‘liberator of Tunisian women.’ … This initiated a culture of political patriarchy. By effectively outlawing other forms of political leadership, Bourguiba stalled the women’s movement in its broader fight for autonomy from male authority.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The evidence presented so far reflects the limitations of Bourguiba’s state feminism. It is undeniable that the state feminist policies he pursued have benefited Tunisian women and girls in multiple areas. But, if independent feminists were deliberately marginalised by this male figure, then can we continue to call him the emancipator of Tunisian women?</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/188026/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jyhene Kebsi does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Former president Bourguiba’s standing as father of Tunisian feminism has come under scrutiny.Jyhene Kebsi, Lecturer in Gender Studies, Macquarie UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1588552021-04-20T14:36:25Z2021-04-20T14:36:25ZThe history of protest songs in Tunisia and their link to popular culture<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/395492/original/file-20210416-21-1nj4ws6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">AnnHirna/Shutterstock</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Music genres such as rap have become the primary artistic means for expressing the discontent and aspirations of a new generation of activists in Tunisia. But the heritage of protest songs from decades before is still held in the collective memory of young leftists. </p>
<p>From the mid-1970s and throughout the 1980s, during the regime of <a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Habib-Bourguiba">Habib Bourguiba</a>, the protest song in Tunisia developed as a countercultural music scene. This is a period characterised by economic instability and waves of protest and political contestation. </p>
<p>The protest song was the product of the cultural work of Tunisian leftist parties and organisations, which were particularly active in the student movement and influential among grassroot unionists. </p>
<p>Why was such a popular art form important for the cultural work of the Tunisian left? In <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/13530194.2021.1885845">my research</a> I argue that leftist activists found in popular culture – and in songs in particular – a powerful tool. It could raise awareness among young people, galvanise activists and spread socialist revolutionary ideas. These songs become a link in the longer chain of resistant cultural practices in the country.</p>
<h2>Art and politics</h2>
<p>In Tunisia, the protest song is called <em>al-ughniya al-multazima</em> in Arabic, or <em>chanson engagée</em> in French. Both literally mean “committed song” and put an emphasis on the political and social aim of this genre. Art, in this case music and poetry, was a vehicle to convey a message. </p>
<p>In the 1970s and 1980s protest song groups formed and artists were increasingly visible. Among the pioneers of this genre there were the songwriter <a href="https://www.marocafrik.com/english/Death-of-the-famous-Tunisian-composer-and-performer-of-the-60-s-and-80-s-Hedi-Guella_a989.html">Hédi Guella</a> and the group Imazighen. They performed on university campuses and at unionist venues, animating political gatherings and events. They exhibited in cultural centres and some participated in important cultural festivals. Their songs were rarely broadcast on TV or radio, but tape recordings circulated widely among activists and students. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ktY4IFQL2LU?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Al-Bahth al-Musiqi performing the song Ilayka Fi Beyrut.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The songs were mostly typical of the Arabic musical tradition, created on instruments such as the <a href="https://www.arabinstruments.com/the-oud-instrument">oud</a>, the <a href="http://www.mideastweb.org/culture/ney.htm">nay</a> and the <a href="https://salamuzik.com/blogs/news/all-about-darbuka-instrument">darbuka</a>.</p>
<p>Their political and cultural framework distinguishes these songs from previous popular chants of protest (for example against colonialism) as well as from patriotic songs (praising the nationalist regime). </p>
<h2>A new popular culture</h2>
<p>The 1970s and 1980s protest songs were expression of a counterculture that was at odds with the ideology propagated by the regime of Bourguiba, who died in 1987. </p>
<p>Bourguiba had come to power in 1956 as the leader of the nationalist movement against French colonialism. Educated, middle-class and rather Western-oriented, he promoted a modernist and reformist ideology. In the last two decades of his regime, he was losing consensus among the population at large and among the new cultural and intellectual elite. </p>
<p>The Tunisian radical left was increasingly influenced by <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/mar/16/onward-march-maoism-julia-lovell">Maoism</a> and <a href="https://www.encyclopedia.com/humanities/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/arab-nationalism">Arab Nationalism</a>. They recognised that a connection with the working class would be impossible without an appreciation of the Arab-Muslim identity of the Tunisian people. </p>
<p>The left engaged in cultural work for the creation of a new national-popular culture. This needed to be rooted in the people’s culture but also be an expression of a progressive and socialist ideology. Marxist theorists such as <a href="https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803095903245">Antonio Gramsci</a> had become influential. His ideas on cultural work, <a href="https://www.britannica.com/topic/hegemony">hegemony</a> (the dominance of one group over another) and common sense had penetrated the Arab intellectual world. </p>
<p>Songs were one of the most efficient tools for implementing this project. They were easy to propagate with the new and cheap technology of audio cassette. Concerts were organised on a small budget, attracting hundreds of people.</p>
<h2>The oasis and the mine</h2>
<p>Among the many interpreters of the protest song in Tunisia, two popular singing groups stand out.</p>
<p>Al-Bahth al-Musiqi (The Musical Research Group) hailed from the southern Mediterranean city of Gabes, which lies beside an oasis and has, since the 1970s, hosted a massive chemical industry complex. Awlad al-Manajim (The Children of the Mines) were from Moulares, a village near Gafsa, situated in a phosphate mining basin. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hQDXgclMGvg?wmode=transparent&start=58" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Awlad al-Manajim performing the song Ya Damus.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Both groups, still active in Tunisia today, were born from places where industrialisation and the exploitation of natural resources deeply transformed the once rural environment. This industry would ultimately impoverish and harm the resident population. </p>
<p>The members of al-Bahth al-Musiqi were university students active in the student movement. The members of Awlad al-Manajim were workers who supported the workers’ struggles in their hometown. </p>
<p>Both groups were cherished by leftist activists and unionists for their performances and for the strong revolutionary message of their songs. </p>
<p>Both groups created a popular yet revolutionary cultural product. To do so they drew from modern Arabic poetry, for example singing poems by <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/mahmoud-darwish">Mahmoud Darwish</a> supporting the Palestinian people. But in particular they drew on themes and styles typical of Tunisian folklore and vernacular poetry. They responded in an original manner to the need to create a new, popular, socialist culture for the masses. </p>
<p>They took inspiration from other Arab experiences. Composer and singer <a href="https://www.marcelkhalife.com">Marcel Khalife</a> (Lebanon), experimental musical group <a href="https://www.moroccoworldnews.com/2014/03/126067/nass-el-ghiwane-story-of-a-moroccan-legend/">Nass el-Ghiwane</a> (Morocco) and especially the duo of musician <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1080/03064228508533890">Sheikh Imam</a> and vernacular poet <a href="https://theculturetrip.com/africa/egypt/articles/ahmed-fouad-negm-the-revolutionary-egyptian-poet-of-the-people/">Ahmed Fouad Negm</a> (Egypt). This musical production represented a new, revolutionary and genuinely popular culture.</p>
<p>Hence, al-Bahth al-Musiqi produced songs like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QvWgFucwOhI&list=PLYR2xnkzhGPuboyeNkH9WkUtO2X7FWrFA&index=24"><em>Hela Hela Ya Matar</em></a> (Come Down O Rain), <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjRgTkKDqkg&list=PLYR2xnkzhGPuboyeNkH9WkUtO2X7FWrFA&index=23&t=10s"><em>Nekhlat Wad el-Bey</em></a> (The Palm Tree of Wad El Bey) or <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oV9nccC9Gmk&list=PLYR2xnkzhGPuboyeNkH9WkUtO2X7FWrFA&index=21"><em>Bsisa</em></a> (a traditional southern dish). These juxtapose rural imagery with national symbolism and revolutionary slogans. </p>
<figure>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">Al-Bahth al-Musiqi performing the song Bsisa.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Similarly, Awlad al-Manajim’s repertoire includes local songs about the harshness of life in the mining region, like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQDXgclMGvg&t=58s"><em>Ya Damus</em></a> (The Tunnel), and songs calling for workers’ solidarity and Arab unity against imperialism, like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_m1bSpHxz0"><em>Nashid el-Sha'b</em></a> (The Hymn of the People).</p>
<h2>A heritage of resistance</h2>
<p>The popular protest song scene in Tunisia declined with the rise of the <a href="https://theconversation.com/ben-ali-the-tunisian-autocrat-who-laid-the-foundations-for-his-demise-124786">Ben Ali dictatorship</a> in the 1990s. But it never disappeared. After the 2011 revolution forced Ben Ali from power, some of the old singing groups reunited and claimed their space in the newly democratised cultural scene. </p>
<p>In Tunisia today, protest music takes many forms, from rap to electro. However, the old protest songs are still chanted at political gatherings, commemorations and festivals. </p>
<p>Despite being scarcely documented and studied, the Tunisian protest song of the 1970s and 1980s is an integral part of a resistant collective memory. It is loaded with emotional and political meaning for a generation of political activists and unionists. </p>
<p>The study of this experience may offer a new perspective on Tunisia’s cultural and political life under authoritarianism. It sheds light on the continuing and constant presence of dissent and revolutionary culture in the country – one that paved the way for the events that, in 2011, eventually overthrew dictatorship.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/158855/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Alessia Carnevale does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>The 1970s and 1980s saw a new genre of popular protest - its spirit would be felt even in 2011 when protests toppled a dictator.Alessia Carnevale, PhD candidate, Sapienza University of RomeLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1224032019-08-27T13:42:42Z2019-08-27T13:42:42ZRemembering Essebsi, the late maestro of Tunisian politics<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/289611/original/file-20190827-184207-1ajedyf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Former Tunisian President Beji Caid Essebsi</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">MOHAMED MESSARA/EPA</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>The world’s oldest president, Tunisia’s Béji Caïd Essebsi, <a href="https://www.parismatch.com/Actu/International/Le-president-tunisien-Beji-Caid-Essebsi-est-decede-1639003">passed away in July at the age of 92</a>. He had a long legacy in Tunisian politics which has left many feeling like the father of their nation has gone. </p>
<p>Béji Caïd Essebsi’s was born in the <a href="https://www.jeuneafrique.com/211368/archives-thematique/sidi-bou-saed-le-village-enchant/">village of Sidi Bou Saïd</a> on November 29th, 1926. He lived in the capital Tunis and Hammam-Lif, a coastal town about 20km away from Tunis. He got to know these neighbourhoods well, as he did the rural areas surrounding his parents’ farm in the Fahs region. </p>
<p>His education at the modern Sadiki college and the Paris Law Faculty consolidated his vocation as a nationalist and an activist. A brilliant lawyer, with a perfect mastery of classical Arabic and French, Essebsi could recite poetry and the Koran from memory.</p>
<p>In the lead-up to his election to the highest office in 2014, Tunisians nicknamed him <a href="https://newafricanmagazine.com/19338/">“Bajbouj”</a>, out of fondness for his wit and humour. With the gift of persuasion, he led a political career spanning over half a century and had an immense sense of nationalism.</p>
<h2>A veteran of the old regime</h2>
<p>The name “Caïd Essebsi” dates back to his illustrious ancestors. He was closely related to the Husainid Dynasty of Beys who led the country for 250 years – from 1705 until the establishment of the Tunisian republic in 1957. </p>
<p>Essebsi <a href="https://www.persee.fr/doc/polit_0032-342x_1957_num_22_5_2477">faithfully served</a> Habib Bourguiba, Tunisia’s first post-independence president, serving in various positions. He was Head of National Security, Minister of the Interior, Minister of Defense, Ambassador, and Minister for Foreign Affairs.</p>
<p>But when Bourguiba was proclaimed “President for life” in 1974, Essebsi joined the opposition. They called for an end to the one-party system, and for greater freedoms.</p>
<p>In 1987, Zine El Abidine Ben Ali – who was <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/20080428-reign-zine-el-abidine-ben-ali-tunisia">Prime Minister</a> at the time – deposed an aging Bourguiba. This came to be known as a “medical coup d’État” because Bourguiba was in such poor health he couldn’t carry out his duties. </p>
<p>Essebsi served under Ben Ali as the President of the Parliamentary Assembly, but eventually left the political stage for a while. A clever diplomat, Essebsi distanced himself from the Ben Ali regime, sharing neither its authoritarian nor mafia-like, clannish tendencies.</p>
<h2>Post-revolution legacy</h2>
<p>In an ironic quirk of history, Essebsi, a man of the “old regime”, returned to political office after the country’s <a href="http://www.lepanoptique.net/sections/politique-economie/la-revolution-tunisienne-quand-la-dignite-devient-un-instinct/">2011 “Jasmine” or “Dignity” revolution</a>. </p>
<p>He led the transition government and oversaw the organisation of Tunisia’s first free elections. These brought the Islamist Ennahdha party into power. </p>
<p>But the country was thrown into deep crisis under the leadership of the troika –- made up of the Islamists and their allies –- culminating in the assassination of three political figures; Naguedh, Belaïd and Brahmi. They became seen as martyrs of the revolution.</p>
<p>In 2012 Essebsi founded the Nidaa Tounes (“Tunisia’s Call”). The party united the opposition and won the legislative and presidential elections of 2014. </p>
<p>Essebsi had to share power with the Islamists, much to the chagrin of many voters, including around a million women who had deliverately voted for him. But, forged in Paris in 2013, the historic compromise between Essebsi and Rached Ghannouchi, the influential leader of Tunisia’s Islamist Ennahda party, opened up the national dialogue and eased tensions between secularists and Islamists.</p>
<h2>Three master strokes</h2>
<p>Essebsi’s legitimacy as a leader was reinforced by three master strokes that became part of his, admittedly mixed, legacy. His task of <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/tunisia-nidaa-tounes-shambles-political-turbulence-181202090020299.html">rebuilding</a> State authority was undermined by the lack of a unified political ideology, eventually leading to the implosion of the Nidaa Tounes party.</p>
<p>Essebsi’s first master stroke was reconciling Tunisia with its nationalist past. This meant putting “Tunisian-ness” above Wahhabism and political Islam. </p>
<p>Signs of this historic move include the government taking back management of places of worship, <a href="https://www.jeuneafrique.com/mag/491268/politique/tunisie-beji-caid-essebsi-lheritier-de-bourguiba/">the return of the statues of
Bourguiba</a> to their original locations, and the drawing up of a <a href="https://www.huffpostmaghreb.com/entry/beji-caid-essebsi-appelle-tous-les-pays-arabo-musulmans-a-adopter-legalite-dans-lheritage_mg_5c73d6e3e4b06cf6bb287d7a">bill for sex equality in inheritance
law</a>.</p>
<p>His second master stroke was refusing to <a href="https://www.huffpostmaghreb.com/entry/amendement-de-la-loi-electorale-beji-caid-essebsi-refuse-de-signer-une-loi-dexclusion-annonce-son-conseiller-politique_mg_5d3308e8e4b0419fd32d7f07">sign a proposed electoral law
amendment</a>, tabled by the government in the lead-up to the 2019 elections, that was seen as a form of political exclusion.</p>
<p>Essebsi’s subtle refusal, who opposed the Head of the Government, <a href="https://www.lemonde.fr/afrique/article/2019/08/09/en-tunisie-le-premier-ministre-youssef-chahed-se-presente-a-la-presidentielle_5497994_3212.html">Youssef Chahed</a>, signalled the end of the hegemony of the ruling coalition represented by the new State party, <a href="https://www.huffpostmaghreb.com/entry/elections-legislatives-les-tetes-de-liste-de-tahya-tounes_mg_5d401979e4b01d8c97812d2a">Tahya Tounes</a> (“Long Live Tunisia”), and its Islamist allies, and opened the way for new political figures to lead the latest polls.</p>
<p>Essebsi’s final master stroke was his refusal to be placed on life support as he lay dying. This <a href="https://www.voaafrique.com/a/pas-de-vacances-de-pouvoir-apr%C3%A8s-l-hospitalisation-d-essebsi/4977401.html">prevented a power vacuum</a> that would have allowed the Head of Government to become President of the Republic.</p>
<p>By choosing to die naturally on 25 July 2019 –- the eve of Tunisia’s Republic Day –- “Bajbouj” ensured appropriate institutional succession and brought the nation together around the myth of a founding father.</p>
<p>Honoured with a Beylical funeral service, President Essebsi succeeded where Bourguiba had failed, going down in history as a great statesman. The military, secular organisation of his farewell ceremony, the cavalry’s guard of honour around his casket, the show of symbols, the cries of mourners and the national anthem sung in honor of the deceased are evidence of this.</p>
<p>Essebsi embodies the duality highlighted by historian <a href="https://next.liberation.fr/livres/2019/07/17/ernst-kantorowicz-historien-romanesque_1740598">Ernst
Kantorowicz</a>
in <a href="https://www.persee.fr/doc/polix_0295-2319_1989_num_2_6_2102"><em>The King’s Two Bodies</em></a> between “the physical body”, which perishes, and “the mystical body” that survives as a historical figure and political legacy.</p>
<p><em>Translated from the French by Alice Heathwood for Fast ForWord.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/122403/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Mohamed Kerrou does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Essebsi made three master strokes which mean his legacy will have a lasting impact.Mohamed Kerrou, Professeur de sciences politiques, Université de Tunis El ManarLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/991832018-08-13T10:26:34Z2018-08-13T10:26:34ZSaudi women can drive, but are their voices being heard?<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/231497/original/file-20180810-2918-inqimf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">A woman in Saudi Arabia drives to work for the first time in Riyadh.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">AP Photo/Nariman El-Mofty</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Earlier this summer, Saudi Arabia lifted the decades-long ban on women’s driving. The move is part of a series of reforms that the country has been implementing. In April the kingdom loosened <a href="https://english.alarabiya.net/en/features/2018/04/03/Mohammed-bin-Salman-on-Saudi-women-s-rights-and-the-guardianship-laws.html">male guardianship laws</a> – under which women need the permission of a male guardian to work, travel or marry. And in 2015, women were granted the <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-35075702">right to vote and run for elections</a>. The reforms serve to revamp the image of Saudi Arabia in the international arena.</p>
<p>More recently, however, in a diplomatic spat, Canada has criticized Saudi Arabia for human rights violations. Saudi officials have responded by <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/canada-fix-big-mistake-saudi-foreign-minister-1.4777438">cutting all economic and diplomatic ties</a>, withdrawing investments and stopping flights. One of the <a href="https://www.cbsnews.com/news/saudia-arabia-expels-canadas-ambassador-recalls-own-row-over-womens-rights-activists-arrests/">main issues for the Canadians</a> is the arrest by Saudi authorities of two prominent women’s rights activists. Tweets by Canadian diplomats called on the kingdom to release the activists. Saudi Arabia <a href="https://www.cnn.com/2018/05/20/middleeast/saudi-women-arrests---intl/index.html">arrested several women’s rights activists</a> in weeks prior and following the lifting the ban on women’s driving.</p>
<p>As a <a href="https://scholar.google.com/citations?user=Gq1Xc74AAAAJ&hl=en&oi=ao">scholar of gender politics in Middle Eastern societies</a>, I argue that all this goes to show that the kingdom is extending limited reforms to women to represent itself as modern but is adamant on not opening space for more voices. </p>
<h2>Women, nationalism and modernization</h2>
<p><a href="https://us.sagepub.com/en-us/nam/gender-and-nation/book203639">Historically</a>, the status of women has often served as <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/colonial-fantasies/AA3BEA73927420CDF46E0CC595DCB9B7">a measure of social progress</a>. </p>
<p>Take for example, the regime of <a href="http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780195117394.001.0001/acref-9780195117394-e-0504">Gamal Abdel Nasser</a>, who served as president of Egypt from 1956, until his death in 1970. Nasser promoted the participation of women in the public sector as a symbol of the success of the regime in modernizing Egypt.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/231501/original/file-20180810-2915-mv30h6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/231501/original/file-20180810-2915-mv30h6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=421&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/231501/original/file-20180810-2915-mv30h6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=421&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/231501/original/file-20180810-2915-mv30h6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=421&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/231501/original/file-20180810-2915-mv30h6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=529&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/231501/original/file-20180810-2915-mv30h6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=529&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/231501/original/file-20180810-2915-mv30h6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=529&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Women cheer for Gamal Abdel Nasser after he proclaimed a new Egyptian constitution that promised new rights for women in 1956.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AP Photo</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Under Nasser, the state adopted a series of laws to encourage women’s participation in the workforce. Between 1961 and 1969, the participation of women in the labor force <a href="http://www.berghahnbooks.com/title/El-KholyDefiance">increased by 31.1 percent</a>. </p>
<p>Paid maternity leave <a href="https://www.sup.org/books/title/?id=18176">was granted to working mothers</a> during the day and child care was made available. Children and child rearing was no longer the sole responsibility of women, but increasingly that of the state and its institutions as well. There was no discussion, however, <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/women-and-the-egyptian-revolution/1141AB709E596C0187C8D050FEB5F6B5">of men’s responsibility</a> or how to balance work and family.</p>
<p>Scholars, thus, argue that these reforms were not genuine efforts by the regime to alter gender inequalities. Rather, they were <a href="https://www.sup.org/books/title/?id=18176">important symbols</a> in representing the Egyptian society as modern, socialist and progressive, where men and women were seen to work next to each other.</p>
<p>Also, the reforms did not include meaningful political rights. For example, while women were granted the right to vote in <a href="https://www.thoughtco.com/international-woman-suffrage-timeline-3530479">1956</a>, unlike men, they had to petition the state to <a href="https://www.bookdepository.com/Gender-Citizenship-Middle-East-Suad-Joseph/9780815628651">include them on the list of registered voters</a>. The regime also moved to suppress independent feminists such as <a href="http://upf.com/book.asp?id=9780813014555">Doria Shafiq</a>, who campaigned for women’s suffrage for years.</p>
<h2>Using women for politics</h2>
<p>It was the same in many Middle Eastern and North African societies. The image of the woman was often constructed based on a political need at a given time and later deconstructed as well. </p>
<p>In Tunisia, for example, Habib Bourguiba, Tunisia’s nationalist leader and president, and after him President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali presented the image of the unveiled Tunisian women as a symbol of <a href="https://www.ucpress.edu/book/9780520225763/states-and-womens-rights">modernization, secularism and democracy</a>.</p>
<p>Following Tunisian independence in 1956, Bourguiba <a href="https://doi.org/10.1080/1369801X.2012.730857">rejected the veil</a> and viewed it as a barrier to his modernizing project. In his Dec. 5, 1957, speech, he described the veil as an <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/3992658">“odious rag”</a> and an <a href="https://doi.org/10.1080/1369801X.2012.730857">obstacle to the country’s path to modernization</a> secluding women from participation in public space.</p>
<p>Bourguiba’s earlier views on the veil were, however, different. At the height of the nationalist struggle, during the 1930s to the 1950s against French colonial rule in Tunisia, Bourguiba emphasized the <a href="https://doi.org/10.1080/1369801X.2012.730857">significance of the traditional Tunisian veil</a>, the sefsari, as a symbol of national identity. The nationalist leader encouraged women to wear the sefsari as a way to oppose the colonial view. The <a href="https://yalebooks.yale.edu/book/9780300055832/women-and-gender-islam">colonial powers</a> pushed for unveiling women and viewed it as part of the <a href="https://groveatlantic.com/book/a-dying-colonialism/">modernizing process</a>.</p>
<h2>Crackdown on feminists</h2>
<p>Coming back to Saudi Arabia, the crown prince, Mohammed bin Salman, has introduced <a href="http://vision2030.gov.sa/en">Vision 2030</a> an ambitious social and economic reform plan, that he first announced in 2016. His goal is to liberalize the Saudi <a href="https://www.sunypress.edu/p-2972-all-in-the-family.aspx">petro-state</a> and <a href="https://www.routledge.com/The-Political-and-Economic-Challenges-of-Energy-in-the-Middle-East-and/Jalilvand-Westphal/p/book/9781138706224">open its centralized oil market</a> to foreign investment. His promise is to bring larger parts of the Saudi population – especially women and youth – into the labor force. </p>
<p>At this juncture, reforms in women’s rights demonstrate that the kingdom is en route to modernizing. However, some of the actions of Saudi authorities – such as the arrest of prominent activists that Canada has expressed concerns over – are seemingly at odds with the image the reforms want to project. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/231499/original/file-20180810-2921-ufd88q.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/231499/original/file-20180810-2921-ufd88q.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/231499/original/file-20180810-2921-ufd88q.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/231499/original/file-20180810-2921-ufd88q.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/231499/original/file-20180810-2921-ufd88q.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/231499/original/file-20180810-2921-ufd88q.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/231499/original/file-20180810-2921-ufd88q.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Saudi women’s rights activist Souad al-Shammary, who has been jailed several times.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AP Photo</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p><a href="https://feminist.org/blog/index.php/2018/05/24/saudi-arabia-arrests-womens-rights-activists/">The arrests started</a> less than a month before the kingdom was due to lift the ban on women’s driving, when the authorities <a href="https://feminist.org/blog/index.php/2018/05/24/saudi-arabia-arrests-womens-rights-activists/">arrested some of the feminists</a> who had campaigned for women’s rights to drive. Several pro-government social media groups were alleged to have launched a <a href="http://www.middleeasteye.net/news/human-rights-groups-slam-saudi-arabia-chilling-smear-campaign-against-activists-786866070">smear campaign</a> tarnishing the activists’ reputation and branding them as “<a href="http://www.al-jazirah.com/2018/20180603/ln29.htm">traitors</a>” and “<a href="https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2018/05/saudi-arabia-chilling-smear-campaign-tries-to-discredit-loujain-al-hathloul-and-other-detained-womens-rights-defenders/">agents of foreign embassies</a>.</p>
<p>The list of detained activists included <a href="https://feminist.org/blog/index.php/2018/05/24/saudi-arabia-arrests-womens-rights-activists/">high-profile feminists</a> such as <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loujain_al-Hathloul">Loujain al-Hathloul</a> – a vocal Saudi activist who since 2014 has been arrested numerous times for defying the ban on women driving. </p>
<p>Following the decision to lift the ban on driving, the authorities approached the women who had been arrested, in addition to others who previously participated in protests against the driving ban and <a href="https://www.reuters.com/article/us-saudi-arrests/rights-groups-condemn-saudi-women-activists-arrests-idUSKCN1IK085">demanded</a> that they completely <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2017/09/29/brave-female-activists-who-fought-lift-saudi-arabias-driving-ban">refrain</a> from commenting on the decision. </p>
<p>Media coverage has made no mention of the role of activists who had long campaigned for women’s right to drive. Rather, it praised the <a href="https://en.vogue.me/fashion/news/inside-vogue-arabias-groundbreaking-first-ever-saudi-issue/">crown prince</a> for lifting the ban. </p>
<p>In my view, there are many contradictions that surround these recent reforms. By silencing activists, the crown prince appears to tie the decision to allow Saudi women to drive to burnishing his own legacy. More importantly, by imprisoning high-profile feminists, the monarchy attempts to weaken, if not abolish, the ability of women’s groups to organize, advance their rights and be heard.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/99183/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Nermin Allam does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Saudi Arabia has arrested a number of feminists, while bringing in reforms for women. An expert argues why this goes to show that the kingdom remains adamant on not opening space for more voices.Nermin Allam, Assistant Professor of Politics, Rutgers University - NewarkLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.