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ALGIERS — In a Moorish-style palace
on the Algerian capital’s airy heights, the
nation’s president proclaimed a new day
for his country, saying it was now “free
and democratic.” The old, corrupt system — in which he had spent his entire
career — was gone, he insisted.
“We’re building a new model here,”
said President Abdelmadjid Tebboune,
75, chain-smoking a pack of cigarettes in
an hourslong interview surrounded by
aides in his sumptuous office last month.
“I’ve decided to go very far in creating a
new politics and a new economy.”
But old habits die hard in this North African country, which has known nearly
60 years of repression, military meddling, rigged elections and very little democracy. On the streets below Mr. Tebboune’s office, Algeria’s old realities are
reasserting themselves.
The state jails dissidents, and seats
have been for sale — the going price was
about $540,000 according to a parliamentarian’s court testimony — in the
same Parliament that ratified Mr. Tebboune’s proposed new Constitution,
drafted after he came to power in a disputed election in December. But the opposition is hobbled by a lack of leadership and a failure to articulate an alternative vision for the country.
A year after a popular uprising ousted
the 20-year autocrat, Abdelaziz Bouteflika, and led the army to jail much of his
ruling oligarchy, hopes are now fading
for an overhaul of the political system
and real democracy in Algeria.
“We are moving backward fast,” said
Mohcine Belabbas, an opposition politician who played a major role in the uprising.
Today there are two political narratives in Algeria: the one from Mr. Tebboune, on high, and the one in the streets
below.
The revolt in the streets that began
last year, known here as Hirak, initially
appeared to signal a new dawn in a country that had been stifled for decades by
its huge military. But when the movement’s failure to coalesce around leaders
and agree on goals created a vacuum, the
remnants of the repressive Algerian
state, with its ample security services,
stepped in.
Other advocates for change in the
Arab world looked on enviously as week
after week, tens of thousands turned out
peacefully to protest the continued reign
of Mr. Bouteflika, who was left paralyzed
after a stroke in 2013. It seemed that the
abortive Arab Spring that began in late
2010 was finally being realized.
Algeria, an insular linchpin in the region, is the world’s 10th biggest producer
of natural gas and is believed to have the
second largest military establishment in
Africa. It has been a key leader of nonaligned nations since it fought its way to
independence from France 58 years ago.
The military established its pre-eminence in politics shortly after that, and
has been at the forefront or just behind it
ever since. A civil war with Islamists in
the 1990s, in which as many as 100,000
were killed, helped consolidate its grip.
Soldiers in uniform are omnipresent in
Algiers. But during last year’s demonstrations, Algerian security forces didn’t
open fire on the Hirak protesters, the two
sides instead staring each other down in
a wary standoff.
Although the army eventually forced
Mr. Bouteflika and his governing elite
out of office, that was not enough for the
protesters. They demanded a full overhaul of the country’s political class, elections for a new constituent assembly to
replace the country’s discredited Parliament, and the army’s definitive withdrawal from politics.
They also deemed the army’s push for
presidential elections premature. But
the army’s all-powerful chief of staff, Ahmed Gaid Salah, overruled the movement.
Mr. Tebboune, once an ephemeral
prime minister under Mr. Bouteflika, is
believed to have been backed for the
presidency by Mr. Gaid Salah. He was
elected in a vote that opponents said
drew less than 10 percent of the electorate; Mr. Tebboune said it was more than
40 percent.
He began with a few good-will gestures, releasing some detained protesters. The pandemic stopped the demonstrations in March, and since then the
government has played a cat-and-mouse
game with Hirak’s remnants, releasing
some and arresting others. Dozens have
been arrested, according to an opposition group.
The pandemic has dovetailed with the
national penchant for insularity, giving
Algeria a further excuse to tighten its
borders and keep out foreigners. The results are low infection and mortality
rates, few mask-wearers and a near-total
absence of outsiders on the crumbling
streets of central Algiers.
The arrest and prosecution of one of
the country’s best-known journalists,
Khaled Drareni, 40, has hardened the
mood in the streets and spread fear in the
Algerian news media. The editor of a
widely followed website, the Casbah
Tribune, and a local correspondent for a
French television station, Mr. Drareni
covered Hirak with a mix of activism and
detachment.
“The system renews itself ceaselessly
and refuses to change,” he wrote during
last year’s uprising. “We call for press
freedom. They respond with corruption
and money.”
That remark infuriated the authorities. On Sept. 15, he was convicted of “endangering national unity” and sentenced
to two years in prison.
The scene outside the courthouse that
day turned ugly.
“Khaled Drareni, independent journalist!” demonstrators shouted before
the police poured in to disperse them.
“Scram!” a muscular plainclothes officer
barked at demonstrators. Officers
roughly bundled a young woman and an
older man into a police van.
“He didn’t even have a press card,” the
president fumed during the interview,
casting Mr. Drareni as an activist with
dubious credentials. Mr. Drareni once interviewed Mr. Tebboune himself, though,
as well as President Emmanuel Macron
of France.
Mr. Tebboune insisted on an opposing
narrative during the three-and-a-halfhour interview, saying his country was
now “free and democratic.” He later
made his normally reticent cabinet
members available for interviews, and
even demanded that the army chief of
staff — who is never accessible to the media — agree to be interviewed.
“The army is neutral,” growled Gen.
Saïd Chengriha, a grizzled veteran of the
country’s 1990s civil war with the Islamists. He succeeded General Gaid Salah,
who died of a heart attack in December.
“How do you want us to be involved in
politics? We’re not at all trained in that,”
said the general, 75, speaking in the military’s extensive compound in the heights
of Algiers.
But decades of history are not so easily
reversed.
The general and the president said
they met at least twice a week to discuss
the country’s situation, which is increasingly perilous because of a drop in oil
prices. Well over 90 percent of the largely
desert country’s exports consist of oil
and gas, and with a heavy social expenditures bill, Algeria is estimated to need oil
at $100 a barrel to balance its budget. The
price has been hovering in the 40s.
Of one thing Mr. Tebboune is certain:
The citizen protest movement is over.
“Is there anything left of the Hirak?”
he asked dismissively during the interview.
He spoke of change, vaunting his new
Constitution, which limits a president to
two terms and recognizes the rights of
the opposition, at least in the eyes of its
supporters. But this past week, the government threatened to strip Mr. Belabbas, the opposition politician, of his parliamentary immunity.
And for all the talk of a new Algeria,
the president employed the old language
of the autocrat when he discussed dealing with dissent.
“Everyone has the right to free expression — but only in an orderly manner,” he
said. “It’s normal that someone who insults and who attacks the symbols of the
state winds up in court.”
An Algerian revolt against the French
58 years ago failed for lack of a clear
leader. That resistance to anoint a leader,
a tactic to minimize repression, has now
also weakened Hirak.
The activists who took a leading role
have refused to engage with the deposed
leader’s heirs, including the new president.
Behind high locked metal gates,
watched from the sun-blasted street by
plainclothes officers, Mr. Belabbas acknowledged that the protesters were
clear about what they were against —
the entire Algerian political system —
but less so about what should replace it.
“We never succeeded in defining what
we were for,” said Mr. Belabbas, who is
head of the Rally for Culture and Democracy party and a member of Parliament.
Caught in the middle are ordinary Algerians — skeptical of Mr. Tebboune’s
claims of renewal and of his new Constitution, deflated by the demise of Hirak
and angry about the imprisoned Mr.
Drareni.
“So, there’s a journalist who speaks.
You put him in prison. And that’s supposed to be democracy?” asked Isa Mansour, who runs a small clothing store in
the working-class neighborhood of Belouizdad, where the Nobel Prize winner
Albert Camus grew up 100 years ago.
“The citizens are fed up with all these
promises,” he said. “You can’t expect reforms from the old guard. Algeria is still
looking for democracy.”
new york times
on the Algerian capital’s airy heights, the
nation’s president proclaimed a new day
for his country, saying it was now “free
and democratic.” The old, corrupt system — in which he had spent his entire
career — was gone, he insisted.
“We’re building a new model here,”
said President Abdelmadjid Tebboune,
75, chain-smoking a pack of cigarettes in
an hourslong interview surrounded by
aides in his sumptuous office last month.
“I’ve decided to go very far in creating a
new politics and a new economy.”
But old habits die hard in this North African country, which has known nearly
60 years of repression, military meddling, rigged elections and very little democracy. On the streets below Mr. Tebboune’s office, Algeria’s old realities are
reasserting themselves.
The state jails dissidents, and seats
have been for sale — the going price was
about $540,000 according to a parliamentarian’s court testimony — in the
same Parliament that ratified Mr. Tebboune’s proposed new Constitution,
drafted after he came to power in a disputed election in December. But the opposition is hobbled by a lack of leadership and a failure to articulate an alternative vision for the country.
A year after a popular uprising ousted
the 20-year autocrat, Abdelaziz Bouteflika, and led the army to jail much of his
ruling oligarchy, hopes are now fading
for an overhaul of the political system
and real democracy in Algeria.
“We are moving backward fast,” said
Mohcine Belabbas, an opposition politician who played a major role in the uprising.
Today there are two political narratives in Algeria: the one from Mr. Tebboune, on high, and the one in the streets
below.
The revolt in the streets that began
last year, known here as Hirak, initially
appeared to signal a new dawn in a country that had been stifled for decades by
its huge military. But when the movement’s failure to coalesce around leaders
and agree on goals created a vacuum, the
remnants of the repressive Algerian
state, with its ample security services,
stepped in.
Other advocates for change in the
Arab world looked on enviously as week
after week, tens of thousands turned out
peacefully to protest the continued reign
of Mr. Bouteflika, who was left paralyzed
after a stroke in 2013. It seemed that the
abortive Arab Spring that began in late
2010 was finally being realized.
Algeria, an insular linchpin in the region, is the world’s 10th biggest producer
of natural gas and is believed to have the
second largest military establishment in
Africa. It has been a key leader of nonaligned nations since it fought its way to
independence from France 58 years ago.
The military established its pre-eminence in politics shortly after that, and
has been at the forefront or just behind it
ever since. A civil war with Islamists in
the 1990s, in which as many as 100,000
were killed, helped consolidate its grip.
Soldiers in uniform are omnipresent in
Algiers. But during last year’s demonstrations, Algerian security forces didn’t
open fire on the Hirak protesters, the two
sides instead staring each other down in
a wary standoff.
Although the army eventually forced
Mr. Bouteflika and his governing elite
out of office, that was not enough for the
protesters. They demanded a full overhaul of the country’s political class, elections for a new constituent assembly to
replace the country’s discredited Parliament, and the army’s definitive withdrawal from politics.
They also deemed the army’s push for
presidential elections premature. But
the army’s all-powerful chief of staff, Ahmed Gaid Salah, overruled the movement.
Mr. Tebboune, once an ephemeral
prime minister under Mr. Bouteflika, is
believed to have been backed for the
presidency by Mr. Gaid Salah. He was
elected in a vote that opponents said
drew less than 10 percent of the electorate; Mr. Tebboune said it was more than
40 percent.
He began with a few good-will gestures, releasing some detained protesters. The pandemic stopped the demonstrations in March, and since then the
government has played a cat-and-mouse
game with Hirak’s remnants, releasing
some and arresting others. Dozens have
been arrested, according to an opposition group.
The pandemic has dovetailed with the
national penchant for insularity, giving
Algeria a further excuse to tighten its
borders and keep out foreigners. The results are low infection and mortality
rates, few mask-wearers and a near-total
absence of outsiders on the crumbling
streets of central Algiers.
The arrest and prosecution of one of
the country’s best-known journalists,
Khaled Drareni, 40, has hardened the
mood in the streets and spread fear in the
Algerian news media. The editor of a
widely followed website, the Casbah
Tribune, and a local correspondent for a
French television station, Mr. Drareni
covered Hirak with a mix of activism and
detachment.
“The system renews itself ceaselessly
and refuses to change,” he wrote during
last year’s uprising. “We call for press
freedom. They respond with corruption
and money.”
That remark infuriated the authorities. On Sept. 15, he was convicted of “endangering national unity” and sentenced
to two years in prison.
The scene outside the courthouse that
day turned ugly.
“Khaled Drareni, independent journalist!” demonstrators shouted before
the police poured in to disperse them.
“Scram!” a muscular plainclothes officer
barked at demonstrators. Officers
roughly bundled a young woman and an
older man into a police van.
“He didn’t even have a press card,” the
president fumed during the interview,
casting Mr. Drareni as an activist with
dubious credentials. Mr. Drareni once interviewed Mr. Tebboune himself, though,
as well as President Emmanuel Macron
of France.
Mr. Tebboune insisted on an opposing
narrative during the three-and-a-halfhour interview, saying his country was
now “free and democratic.” He later
made his normally reticent cabinet
members available for interviews, and
even demanded that the army chief of
staff — who is never accessible to the media — agree to be interviewed.
“The army is neutral,” growled Gen.
Saïd Chengriha, a grizzled veteran of the
country’s 1990s civil war with the Islamists. He succeeded General Gaid Salah,
who died of a heart attack in December.
“How do you want us to be involved in
politics? We’re not at all trained in that,”
said the general, 75, speaking in the military’s extensive compound in the heights
of Algiers.
But decades of history are not so easily
reversed.
The general and the president said
they met at least twice a week to discuss
the country’s situation, which is increasingly perilous because of a drop in oil
prices. Well over 90 percent of the largely
desert country’s exports consist of oil
and gas, and with a heavy social expenditures bill, Algeria is estimated to need oil
at $100 a barrel to balance its budget. The
price has been hovering in the 40s.
Of one thing Mr. Tebboune is certain:
The citizen protest movement is over.
“Is there anything left of the Hirak?”
he asked dismissively during the interview.
He spoke of change, vaunting his new
Constitution, which limits a president to
two terms and recognizes the rights of
the opposition, at least in the eyes of its
supporters. But this past week, the government threatened to strip Mr. Belabbas, the opposition politician, of his parliamentary immunity.
And for all the talk of a new Algeria,
the president employed the old language
of the autocrat when he discussed dealing with dissent.
“Everyone has the right to free expression — but only in an orderly manner,” he
said. “It’s normal that someone who insults and who attacks the symbols of the
state winds up in court.”
An Algerian revolt against the French
58 years ago failed for lack of a clear
leader. That resistance to anoint a leader,
a tactic to minimize repression, has now
also weakened Hirak.
The activists who took a leading role
have refused to engage with the deposed
leader’s heirs, including the new president.
Behind high locked metal gates,
watched from the sun-blasted street by
plainclothes officers, Mr. Belabbas acknowledged that the protesters were
clear about what they were against —
the entire Algerian political system —
but less so about what should replace it.
“We never succeeded in defining what
we were for,” said Mr. Belabbas, who is
head of the Rally for Culture and Democracy party and a member of Parliament.
Caught in the middle are ordinary Algerians — skeptical of Mr. Tebboune’s
claims of renewal and of his new Constitution, deflated by the demise of Hirak
and angry about the imprisoned Mr.
Drareni.
“So, there’s a journalist who speaks.
You put him in prison. And that’s supposed to be democracy?” asked Isa Mansour, who runs a small clothing store in
the working-class neighborhood of Belouizdad, where the Nobel Prize winner
Albert Camus grew up 100 years ago.
“The citizens are fed up with all these
promises,” he said. “You can’t expect reforms from the old guard. Algeria is still
looking for democracy.”
new york times