Chronique d'une transition, by Kmar Bendana, Tunis, Les Editions Script, 2011, 213 pp., 8 DT/10 €, ISBN 9789973027856

La face cachée de la révolution tunisienne: Islamisme et occident, une alliance à haut risque, by Mezri Haddad, Tunis, Arabesques, 2011, 392 pp., 20 DT/20 €, ISBN 9789938801934

The two books in this review present oposing perspectives on President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali's exile from Tunisia on 14 January 2011. The key difference is that Kmar Bendana's Chronique d'une transition seeks historical understanding of a social movement whose influence expanded outwards, while Mezri Haddad's La face cachée de la révolution tunisienne: Islamisme et occident, une alliance à haut risque insists that the ‘true’ actors in the revolution were the US and the ‘television-state’ of Qatar, fuelling the Tunisian ‘horde’ from outside. Given the cacophony of Internet traffic, these approaches need not be mutually exclusive. They can be reconciled by Samir Amin's preface in Mezri Haddad's book: he agrees with the author that there is an alliance between Washington, reactionary forces and Muslim brotherhoods, but he also recognises the role of progressive forces.

Bendana's Chronique d'une transition is a collection of 17 short texts written between January and November 2011. Many of these were published as online articles by La Presse de Tunisie and aim to document the reactions, political atmosphere and tensions that followed Tunisia's revolution. The book begins with a chronology of events from the self-immolation of Mohamed Bouazizi in December 2010 to the elections a year later. This timeline usefully incorporates key dates of demonstrations and uprisings in Egypt, Yemen, Algeria, Libya, Bahrain, Morocco and Syria.

As a historian, Kmar Bendana uses the tools of her discipline to formulate debates and questions that were previously forbidden. She explores historical precedents to the uprising that ‘cracked a numb geopolitical order’ (69). The Thala–Kassrine uprisings in 1906, student unrest in 1968, protests against collectivisation in 1969, trade union movements in 1978, bread riots in 1984, and strikes in the mining area of Gafsa in 2008 are examples of social movements led by workers, unemployed youth and students. In this long view, the author argues that the martyrs of the revolution, named in the inauguration of the National Constituent Assembly, should be joined by the 56 people killed in the Gafsa strikes.

In the text titled ‘A democratic transition for the archives?’, Kmar Bendana focuses on the challenge to make national archives accessible to the new national committee on excess, violations and abuse (93). Continuing with the book's theme of information flows, the author evokes the public mood of curiosity after a life of apathy, captured in popular fascination with the enormous fortunes of Ben Ali and his wife, Leïla Trabelsi (66). Bendana does not hold back from documenting the euphoria, confusion and tension surrounding the rapid spread of information in the aftermath of Ben Ali's departure. This collection of texts promises to be a valuable social history, which is grounded in observation of the private sphere and public engagement via the Tunisian media.

There is a deliberate avoidance of grand political explanations in Chronique d'une transition, and neither are there claims of activism, but some texts present a cutting critique of post-revolutionary phenomena including the ‘restoration’ of first President Habib Bourguiba in national politics and the linked feminist debate. Bourguiba's Code of Personal Status developed a ‘feminist country’ in which polygamy was banned among other measures aimed at equality, but this did not destroy the patriarchal order. Hence the essay ‘2/32: Ratio of transition?’ decries the small number of female ministers (38). Bendana claims that the social heritage of feminism has been perverted into a surface ideology and ‘export commodity’ that is sold by diplomats and lauded by short-sighted foreign governments (37). In ‘The return of Bourguiba: a return of politics?’, she argues that the legacy of this autocratic Supreme Commander who confronted France, combatted obscurantism and triumphed over a divisive history, is now open to use and abuse (53).

Moving now to the account of a neo-Bourguibist, La face cachée de la révolution tunisienne is a searing analysis of the ‘Arab spring’. Mezri Haddad was Tunisia's ambassador to UNESCO until he resigned in the eleventh hour of Ben Ali's reign. He is also a scholar and a journalist. All three vocations are evident in the book, but the dominant voice is that of an ardent political agent. Haddad was in favour of democratic transition rather than revolution and identifies members of Tunisia's ancien régime who might have supported this, were it not for mafia rule and particularly the excesses of Leïla Trabelsi. He identifies foremost as a patriot and his nationalism is rationalised by the connections between social movements, foreign neoliberalism and religious fundamentalism.

Chapter 1, ‘Sources of political consciousness’, is mainly autobiographical and discusses the motives for including a significant personal element in the book: these include Haddad's desire to challenge his detractors and explain the circumstances of resignation, the imbrication of his private and political life, and the need for transparency (37–9). Chapter 2, ‘The non-conformism of an ambassador’, documents the relationship with Ben Ali and resignation from UNESCO more closely. Insisting that he was not jumping ship, Haddad explains that his ambivalence towards the Internet meant he was unable to see the fall of the regime coming and was uninformed about the recent violence (159). Chapter 3, ‘The revelations of a free man’, presents an ‘autopsy’ of the revolution, which the author insists was a ‘cyber-revolution’ rather than a classical revolution, the former being orchestrated and the latter spontaneous. There is a detailed exploration of Facebook and the Anonymous movement, here linked with the CIA, and of the manipulative powers of Qatar's Al-Jazeera channel. Chapter IV, ‘The insubordination of an intellectual’, produces an interesting analysis of connections between US foreign policy and political Islam. Following this, he addresses the young ‘Internauts’, warning them against opportunists (328).

Although Haddad refutes the criticism that he treats the Tunisian people as ‘frenzied hordes’ (37), there is an underlying cynicism in the book. He denounces Facebook, but reveals that he deployed this media tool to conspire against two politicians, taking revenge for the downfall of a political associate (168). In the founding of the Mouvement Néo-Bourguibiste, Haddad launched a ‘media counter-offensive’ against public accusations towards a different ally (369). These manoeuvres are legitimised by claims that Bourguibism is the only doctrine that can democratically challenge Islamism (363). What appears, however, is a power struggle within the elites in which the people, seen as a bloc, merely bear the imprint of the most powerful ideology.

It is important that media manipulation of public opinion is closely examined and exposed. It is essential that the specifics of the relationship between neoliberal forces, ‘rebel’ movements and political Islam are identified. Haddad's book contains interesting detail and lines of enquiry to this end. One such line is the suggestion that Qatar's state apparatus might be seen as a hub between the axes of Washington/Israel and the Arab world (371). However, this primary aim of the book is somewhat clouded by personal vendettas and vitriol against his ‘cyber-lynchers’, materialising in the growing prevalence of exclamation marks that attempt to coerce the reader into submission.

Aside from these latter criticisms, it is clear in both books that the authors are in service to a country in turmoil and this is evidenced in their choice to publish through Tunisian channels rather than the global media.

http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/03056244.2013.797768