‏إظهار الرسائل ذات التسميات Politics. إظهار كافة الرسائل
‏إظهار الرسائل ذات التسميات Politics. إظهار كافة الرسائل

3/17/2014

#Nelson_Mandela and His legacy for #Yemen


Nelson Mandela was buried today at his family home in Qunu, South Africa. Over the last few days I have been reflecting on Mandela’s life, his achievements, and how – through the art of forgiveness, reconciliation and the power of dialogue – Mandela brought about visionary and historic change in South Africa. With the change happening all around us in Yemen, I wondered what we could learn from Mandela.
Last Tuesday, more than a hundred current and former heads of state or government attended Mandela’s memorial service to commemorate his life and times. The US’s President Obama and Cuba’s Raul Castro shook hands, showing that Mandela could help reconciliation from beyond the grave. As those who spoke at the service made clear, Mandela was an inspirational, visionary leader who became a legend in his own lifetime, and never forgot the values that were important to him.
Mandela’s dream was to see black and white South Africans living together as equals. So as part of the African National Congress Party, Mandela organised a resistance movement against the apartheid government. He was jailed for life in 1964 for his activities. The story could have ended there, but it didn’t.
Whilst in prison, Mandela overcame his own feelings of rage and bitterness towards the government for all the abuses and discrimination black South Africans had suffered under apartheid. But perhaps more importantly, Mandela learnt how to forgive, how to reconcile, and recognised the importance of looking forward, not back.
The lessons of forgiveness, reconciliation, looking forward, unity over a common dream, and the power of dialogue ring very true for Yemen today. They are the very issues that Yemen is grappling with in its transition.
As we saw in 2011, the glue that brought together the revolutionary youth, women and other proud Yemenis was their common dream to create a democratic, accountable and free society. One where there is a basic relationship between a government that listens to the needs of its people (water, security, electricity, health, education), and a people that mobilises civil society and the ballot box to put in power a government that will deliver those needs.
South Africa today still faces many challenges. Even with such a unique leader, Mandela could not change the country overnight – indeed, that was not his role. He was clear that each and every person had a responsibility to do their part. In his own words: “A fundamental concern for others in our individual and community lives would go a long way in making the world the better place we so passionately dreamt of.”
I sense fear in some Yemenis that whatever good they try and do, it will not make a difference. That the price of trying against entrenched interests will be too high. Mandela had some advice for you: “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.”
And in spite of the difficulty of the task, he advised: “it always seems impossible until it’s done.” Sometimes, a successful transition in Yemen seems impossible, but one day, with the efforts of all Yemenis, it will be done.

By jane marriott Ambassador of Great England in Yemen

7/20/2013

Watching #Cairo from #Sanaa #Yemen #Egypt

SANAA — The protests in Egypt have not only ignited unrest in Cairo, they've unleashed a flurry of debate across the rest of the region. It's not just about where things are heading in Egypt, the most populous country in the Arab world, or what the current uncertainty means about the country's post-Mubarak transition. It's about their resonance in the whole of the Arabic-speaking world and the potential spillover effects. From Sanaa, all that's truly clear at the moment is that Yemenis are watching a nearly absurd amount of Egypt coverage on TV..




Local Muslim Brothers and sympathizers watch Al Jazeera with trepidation. Politicians from former president Ali Abdullah Saleh's General People's Congress (GPC) party watch Saudi-owned Al-Arabiya with a newly awakened revolutionary fervor. Leftists watch al-Mayadeen, the year-old Beirut-based "alternative" to Gulf-funded channels, wondering aloud whether the tide may have shifted against political Islam.
It can feel at times like they are looking at Egypt for cues for where things in Yemen could be heading; over the course of the past two and a half years, events in Cairo have tended to feel a few steps ahead of those Sanaa.
--> While large-scale protests aimed at the Yemeni dictator's ouster began almost immediately after Mubarak's toppling, Saleh didn't formally cede power until the following February. Demonstrators stayed in the streets in months-long protest encampments across the country, but the voices of Yemen's revolutionary youth were soon eclipsed. The military split between supporting the government and the protestors, and Sanaa erupted into urban warfare on two separate occasions. Al Qaeda-linked militants seized control of a series of towns in the south, and, all the while, opposition politicians engaged in a series of on-again, off-again negotiations with Saleh and his allies. In November 2011, the two sides finally reached an agreement, inking the so-called Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) Initiative, an internationally backed power transfer deal granting Saleh immunity in exchange for his ouster. The deal set Yemen on a two-year long "transitional period" presided over by longtime Vice President Abdu Rabbu Mansour Hadi and formed a compromise government split between the GPC and the opposition. Presidential and parliamentary elections are tentatively slated for early 2014.

There's plenty of heady talk about the building of a "new Yemen," but in Sanaa it often feels as if things are paused. Some things have moved forward elsewhere in the country: Once the target of a series of devastating wars, the Houthi movement has carved out a virtual state-within-a-state in their base in the far north, while rising secessionist sentiment has made it seem almost as if the only thing preventing the south from regaining its independence is a series of brittle divisions among the separatist leadership. The ongoing Conference of National Dialogue may have forced politicians in the capital to recognize the Houthis as a legitimate political force, while providing for a comparatively open forum for the discussion of southerners' grievances, but its deliberations often feel like rehashing long-running factional squabbles.
Even if new parties have been formed, the post-2011 political map often feels indistinguishable from the old one. Discussions in Sanaa tend to devolve into debates over the divide between the GPC and the Joint Meeting Parties (JMP), an ideologically fractious coalition of leftist and Islamist factions dominated by the Islah Party, which incorporates the bulk of the Yemeni Muslim Brotherhood, and the Socialist and Nasserist parties. In that sense, there's been little change since 2005, when the JMP was initially formed.
The activists who spurred the former president's ouster -- and, for that matter, many politicians here -- have been open about their misgivings about the shape of Yemen's post-Saleh transition. But it has generally been accepted as the only option aside from further violence and instability.
Gathered around watching news coverage with activists on June 30 and July 1, however, it seemed the scenes in Cairo and other Egyptian cities had provided a potential course of action.


For a few brief days, there was talk about building a Yemeni Tamarod (or rebels, as the Cairo protestors called themselves). There were unofficial discussions between activists from across the political spectrum; the date for massive protests aimed at "correcting the course of the revolution" was tentatively set for July 7. Even at the speculative stage, though, disagreements about everything from demands to acceptable protest slogans foreshadowed that things would eventually come to naught. July 7 came and went with only street protests in the south, as secessionists marked the anniversary of their defeat in Yemen's 1994 civil war. The closest thing I witnessed to an outburst of discontent came a few days prior. Driving with a friend past the home of Yemen's embattled prime minister, Mohamed Basindowa, he rolled down his car window, stopped briefly, and shouted "Leave, Uncle Mohamed!"
The absence of Egypt-style protests hardly means people here are happy with the way things are going. Hoped-for improvements in the stagnant economy and the tenuous security situation remain largely elusive: kidnappings of foreigners have increased in frequency, while security officials continue to be targeted in a string of assassinations. The recurring sabotage of power lines has left even residents of the capital at the mercy of disgruntled tribesmen. Even if Hadi has held on to much of his tenuous public support, Yemenis from across the political spectrum have condemned the unity government as a failure.
Still, it seems, no one is willing to make a move. Chewing qat with a collection of GPC politicians on July 2, their enthusiasm for the protests against Morsy was palpable; Yahya Mohamed Saleh, the former Yemeni president's nephew, had already stopped by Cairo's Tahrir Square to show his solidarity with the "revolution against the Ikhwan [Muslim Brotherhood]." They watched as revolutionaries and remnants of the Mubarak regime joined together against a common foe, and I wondered if they thought they felt they could pull off a similar feat here, capitalizing on the longstanding misgivings many Saleh opponents hold regarding the Islah Party. 
 
"The question is no longer ‘with the revolution or against it,'" an activist had told me a few days before. "The stage has changed. What matters now is who is truly for or against building the state."
Comments like that are music to the GPC's ears. But that enthusiasm among revolutionaries and the regime's old guard seems distant from the current political reality.
Complaints over Islah's increased influence in post-Saleh Yemen notwithstanding, the power the party currently holds is in no way comparable to that of Morsy's Freedom and Justice Party. In the event of any possible shakeup, all parties would almost inevitably be affected; while plenty may raise issue with the current balance of power, few seem willing to take the risk of upsetting it.
--> Perhaps, however, it's the way things have gone in Egypt that has ultimately doomed any real aftereffects here. The violence and uncertainty since the July 3 coup has led many to quiet their misgivings about Yemen's own post-Arab Spring transition. It may be far from perfect, the argument goes, but things could certainly be worse.
There were certainly plenty of Yemenis who celebrated the military's overthrow of Morsy; plenty of others cast it as a far from ideal, but necessary step. But even many Yemenis with little sympathy for the Muslim Brotherhood have expressed a deep discomfort as events have unfolded, wondering if it's all a message about the fragility of the tentative gains made in the wake of the Arab Spring.
"I don't like Morsy, but it's hard not to see the army overthrowing an elected president as a negative step -- a step backwards," an activist told me. "It makes me nervous about where Yemen is heading: Wherever Egypt was [before June 30], it was far ahead of where we are now."


6/27/2013

#30June Get ready for A revolution against the Muslim Brotherhood #Tamarod



 Tamarod ,the rebellious mother movement of the upcoming 30 June protests launched today the 30 June Front. That front is an attempt to have a political cover for the protests despite the founders of that front made it clear in a press conference that they do not represent all revolutionaries or political powers.
Now the 30 June Front presented a roadmap for Egypt after Mohamed Morsi as Tamarod believes that it is going to oust him on 30 June through petitions. The 6 months transitional period roadmap is as follows after getting rid from MB and Morsi :

-->
  • To appoint an independent Prime minister that represents 25 Revolution.
  • To assign this prime minister with all the executive powers of the president and he will head a technocrat government whose main mission is to fix economy and adopt social justice policies.
  • To assign the head of supreme constitutional court with the President’s protocol missions.
  • To dissolve the Shura council and to suspend the current constitution.
  • To form a new constituent assembly in order to draft a new constitution.
  • To have presidential elections by the end of the 6 months followed by parliamentary elections monitored by judges and surpervised internationally. 
  • The National defense council is responsible for national security.
  • -->
    It is worth to mention that the boys and girls of Tamarod have met with Heikal, the old fox twice in the past two weeks. Politically speaking this roadmap is perfect or rather was perfect for Egypt on 12 February 2011 if people were honest in having true democracy. There is one missing detail is how to reach this roadmap already.
    Now there are too many players with other roadmaps and agendas.
    The 30 June Front is founded by a number of revolutionary and political activists like Israa Abdel Fatah, Amr Salah, Mohamed Abdel Aziz, Ahmed Harara , Khaled El Belshy and other others.
    The press conference was attended by many of the famous faces from activists like Ahmed Harara, Karima El Khafny, Hossam Eissa , Khaled Dawood , Hossam Mounis, Mazhar Shahin and Nour El Huda Zaki.
    Here are couple of photos I took from the press conference.

    4/27/2013

    Egyptian Shias keep low profile in face of defamation

    "Have a look upon us, have a look upon us... you who were given the precious knowledge."20130418 egypt shia
    Thursday marked the birthday — Mulid — of Al-Sayeda Nafisa, wife of one of Prophet Muhammad's grandsons. The air was filled with eulogy poems, music and Quran recitations by thousands of her devotees from across the country who travel annually to her mausoleum in Old Cairo. They ask her for guidance and to grant the wishes they whisper to her tomb.
    Hundreds of large tents were erected around the mosque to accommodate the visitors. Each tent carries a banner that shows the Sufi sect that manages it and the governorate it comes from.
    One tent in particular, with a sign reading, "The Khalilia Sect — Giza" was quieter than all the others. It catered food and beverages for the poor and needy, but offered no music nor dhikr dancing.
    "Of course not all those who are celebrating the Mulid are Sufis, many of them are Shias," said Khaled Alatfy, editor-in-chief of "The Arabic Family" newspaper, who was sitting inside the Khalilia of Giza tent. "But most of them don’t wish to be identified."
    Sufism and Shia Islam share many characteristics, including the deep love and glorification of Prophet Muhammad's bloodline, Ahl al-Bayt.
    "Many Shias prefer to practice their faith under the umbrella of Sufism," said Alatfy. Sufism, he said, provides a tolerant safe haven while carrying a more socially and politically acceptable label.
    Hundreds of Shia were hunted, imprisoned, and persecuted under the rule of the toppled president Hosni Mubarak.
    There is no law that prohibits one from being Shia, but police and prosecutors have chosen from a variety of "disrespecting religion," and "disrupting the social harmony" charges that can be stretched to fit anyone who belongs to a non acceptable faith or ideology. 
    Alatfy spoke in a low voice; he didn't want to attract attention. Media were not welcomed inside the tent, and photography was strictly prohibited.
    Many members of this specific sect, Alatfy explained, had been arrested and subjected to constant police surveillance and harassment. In 1996, Hasan Shehata, an imam in Giza, gained notoriety for publicly preaching Shia Islam. He was frank and spoke up harshly and satirically against Sunni Islam.
    It wasn't long before he, hundreds of his followers, and many who were suspected to be followers were arrested without charge under emergency law.
    One of the strictly Sufi members of the sect, who wished not to be identified, said that he spent five months in prison and was summoned several times for security checks for no apparent reason.
    "I had some friends who happened to be among the audience of Hasan Shehata, and that was my only crime," he said.
    The agonizing past of Egyptian Shia in the past two decades is not the only reason that keeps many reluctant to speak.
    Mohammad Al Hussieny, a Shia primary school teacher, grabbed from his pocket a leaflet distributed in the streets of Cairo few weeks ago. It read: "Shias are the enemy of God and the spies of Iran. They are more dangerous to the Islamic Nation than the Jews. Shias must be expelled out of Egypt."
    The Salafist rise after the Arab Spring uprising in Egypt evoked an unprecedented anti-Shia wave of hatred. The new Egyptian constitution has an article that limits the interpretation of Sharia law to the sources and jurisprudence of the Sunni doctrine.
    That article is viewed by Shias as a gateway to ban the celebration of Al-Sayeda Nafisa's birthday, and hundreds of similar Mulids commemorated in every corner of Egypt, and enforce more hostile policies against their freedom to express their faith.
    In September 2012, the Supreme Administrative Court rejected granting a permit for Al Tahrir Party, a socialist party founded by several Shia figures, because it was "based on religious principle." This wasn’t an obstacle for the Muslim Brotherhood’s Freedom and Justice Party, nor for the Salafi Al-Nour party, both of which have strong declared Islamic affiliations.
    Since Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad visited Egypt last February, Salafist movements have initiated an ongoing campaign against Shias. They have called for marches to counter the "Iranian-Shia tide," and organized conferences about the "dangers of Shiism."
    Two weeks ago, there were clashes between Salafist demonstrators and the security forces surrounding the house of the head of the Iranian mission in Cairo.
    The reasons for the Salafists’ hostility are not merely religious, but also political, according to Khaled Saeed, spokesperson of the Salafi Front, one of the hardliner Sunni groups who took part in the latest anti-Shia campaign.
    "Look at the east of Saudi Arabia, the south of Lebanon, and what's happening in Bahrain and Iraq. Iran spreads havoc everywhere they reach," Saaed said in a phone interview.
    Saeed claims that Egyptian Shia are not the target.
    "As long as they are fully integrated inside the Egyptian society, they are not an enemy,” said Saeed. “It is a different story if they tried manifesting the Iranian agenda."
    Saeed asserts that some Salafist groups are using the anti-Shia rhetoric for political gains.
    "It is a way of attracting more followers and strengthen[ing] their unity in front of a common enemy," he said.
    Saeed added that it is possible some Salafist forces are using the Shia card to pressure the Muslim Brotherhood regime trying to normalize diplomatic relations with Iran and allow Iranian tourism, which has been suspended since the seventies.
    It is hard to draw a strict line between where religious motives end and electoral strategies begin. The results are the same: the majority of Shia are keeping a low profile, and continue to practice their faith with a great deal of secrecy and caution, yet with a strong belief that their community shall survive the difficult circumstances.
    "Isn't it ironic to see leaflets calling for kicking Shias out of Egypt, while they were the ones who built its capital?" asked the teacher Al Hussieny bitterly.
    Cairo was built during the Fatimid Shia dynasty that ruled Egypt in the 10th century. Shrines and holy sites like that of Al-Sayeda Nafisa are spread everywhere in the historical parts of the capital and remain a source of comfort and strength to Shia and Sufis.
    "We built it, we will stay in it, and so will our sons and grandsons," said Al Hussieny in a resilient tone.

    4/22/2013

    Arab Spring Time in Saudi Cyberspace



    Not more than two years ago, the concept of reform in Saudi Arabia would have been as much an oxymoron as business ethics or airline cuisine. In recent months, however, the Arab Spring’s uncertain winds of change have finally begun to sweep into the world’s last forbidden kingdom. Finding themselves alone in a crowd (of revolution) in the Middle East, Saudi Arabia’s monarchs are quickly realizing that their secret police and petrodollars may be no match for their citizens’ technology-driven empowerment.
    On March 1, Saudi security forces cracked down on a woman-led protest in the city of Buraidah, known as the nerve center of Saudi Arabia’s ultraconservative Wahabbist ideology. Over 160 people, mostly women and children, were arrested after erecting a tent camp to pressure the government to free their imprisoned husbands whom they claim have been detained for years without visitation or access to legal counsel. The Saudi government claims that the detainees are part of a “deviant group,” a term given to suspected Al Qaeda sympathizers or Islamist political opposition groups across the Gulf.
    News of the arrests spread like wildfire. Protests in support of the Buraidah women were called for by activists from the Shiite minority in the Eastern Province and liberal reformists in Riyadh and Jidda. The mobilization of Saudi conservatives, liberals and minorities against the government’s repressive policies bore a dangerous resemblance to the red-green alliances that toppled governments from Cairo to Tunis. While turnout at the demonstrations was limited due to the government’s ban on political gatherings, the Saudi Twittersphere was teeming with anger.
    Two weeks later, the government-sponsored Arab News daily published a cover story condemning what it deemed “abusive” actions by Saudi Twitter users. The story mentioned that the authorities were mulling over a plan to link Twitter accounts with their users’ identification numbers. Soon after, the story was pulled from the online version of the newspaper without explanation.
    For one of the most Internet-privy societies on the planet, any move to link Twitter accounts with personal ID numbers would result in a mass exodus to other online forums that are not monitored. Saudi Arabia ranks number one in the world for Twitter users per-capita, with an estimated 51 percent of all Saudi Internet users maintaining an account with the social media network. Analysts suggest that any such move would result in a 60 percent reduction of Twitter usage in the country — a true window onto how many Saudis are voicing dissent against their government.
    Still, on March 31, the Saudi Communications and Information Technology Commission instructed Skype, WhatsApp and Viber to comply with local regulations or risk being shut down. These applications are Internet-based communications services that are both free of charge and not subject to the kingdom’s telecommunications regulations.
    The Saudi government has a strong interest in limiting social media and online communications services. Protests are being increasingly organized through use of the WhatsApp messaging application. Political dissidents are able to use Skype to communicate with human rights organizations and foreign media networks without fear of government monitoring. Some government employees and those with ties to the royal family have begun to exploit Twitter to disseminate information regarding corruption in the kingdom.
    The Saudi government is, however, becoming increasingly hesitant about limiting social media and other communications because of the potential for a political backlash. Freedom of speech and communication were a hallmark demand of popular uprisings elsewhere in the Arab world, with attempts to cut online activity serving to fuel discontent rather than mitigate unrest. Saudi Arabia is already a favorite target for civil rights activists across the globe, and a ban on social media would only add to a long list of reasons for further divestment and isolation campaigns.
    As an alternative, the Saudi government has begun encouraging loyalists to condemn and pursue those suspected of online dissent rather than close the outlets altogether. In recent weeks, a Shura Council member filed a lawsuit against a critical Twitter user, while the government-appointed imam of the Grand Mosque in Mecca dedicated his Friday sermon on April 5 to condemning the social network, calling it a “threat to national unity.”
    As the government remains confounded by its inability to control online dissent, there is no doubt that the rising tide of anger across Saudi cyberspace has begun to spill over into physical reality. Unwillingly, the government has been forced to wrestle with undertaking previously unimaginable reforms with regard to women’s rights and employment opportunities for millions of young, educated citizens. With social media as their vehicle, Saudis are threatening to take control of their country’s destiny for the first time in history, and there may be nothing their government can do about it.

    4/18/2013

    Yemen’s Southern Intifada #yemen

    In early February, a car made its way along the winding road from the southern Yemeni port city of Aden to Dhale, a dusty mountain town of traditional mud-brick houses. As the car sped toward its destination, the flags and checkpoints increased in regularity with every passing mile.
    Yemen's flag is made up of three horizontal stripes of red, white, and black. Those flying from the rooftops along the roadside sported an additional blue triangle dotted with a single red star. The flags, a remnant of the south's independent past, are a symbol of defiance; the checkpoints, manned by soldiers from Yemen's north, a source of simmering tension.
    "See," said Fatima, an Adeni college professor, as the car stopped at yet another checkpoint so that a uniformed youth, his cheek bulging with the narcotic qat leaf and an AK-47 casually slung across his shoulder, could take a look inside. "How can they say that this is not an occupation?" 
    On the outskirts of Dhale, the military checkpoints came to a sudden halt. The government had no jurisdiction beyond the town's borders. At the top of a hill in the center of Dhale, Shalal Ali Shaye'a, a top leader in Dhale of Hirak, squinted into the sun. "Look," he said, pointing to another blue-triangled flag painted onto the mountainside opposite him. "This is the free south."
    ----
    Shaye'a is a leading member of one of the more radical factions of Hirak al-Janoubi ("the southern movement," better known in Yemen as Hirak), a loose coalition of southern rights groups formed in Yemen in 2007. Since a popular uprising unseated former President Ali Abdullah Saleh -- a hated figure for many southerners -- in 2011, secessionist sentiment has been on the rise in the south and the pro-independence wing of Hirak has been gaining confidence. While politicians and diplomats in the northern capital of Sanaa have been focused on the peace plan that led to Saleh's ouster, Shaye'a and his cohort have been planning their "peaceful intifada" which they hope will end with talks in Geneva, an end to the checkpoints, and the arrival of U.N. peacekeepers.
    But if recent events are anything to go by, southerners' attempts to extricate themselves from their two decade-old union with the north could prove to be a messy affair. Tensions between Hirak and the government had been rising for months when, on February 20, security forces raided the Aden home of Qasem Asker Jubran, Yemen's onetime ambassador to Mauritania, now a committed secessionist. Juran was arrested, accused of planning to disrupt "by any means possible" a rally planned for the next day by Islah (Yemen's biggest Islamist party) to celebrate the first anniversary of the man who replaced Saleh as president, Abed Rabbo Mansour Hadi. Over the next week, Hiraki protesters clashed again and again with security forces. By the end of February, members of the southern movement estimated that up to 20 of their number had died in the violence, while the Islah's party headquarters in the southern city of Mukalla had been set on fire in just one of a series of attacks on northern political parties and businesses.
    ----
    Dhale and nearby Radfan hold an important place in Hiraki and southern mythology. It was in Habilayn, a village in Radfan, that British troops shot and killed seven men in October 1963, sparking the uprising that ended British rule in the south. The revolt was launched from the craggy, volcanic mountains of Dhale, and the People's Democratic Republic of Yemen (PDRY), the socialist state that succeeded the British, populated its military with men from the area.
    In 1990, bankrupted by the fall of the Soviet Union and a bloody 1986 civil war, the PDRY merged with its northern neighbor, the Yemen Arab Republic (YAR), led by Saleh. But four years later Ali Salem al-Beidh, the PDRY leader who took the south into the unity deal, declared the foundation of a new state, the Democratic Republic of Yemen. Southerners had complained of an unequal partnership and of a campaign of assassinations targeting their leaders since the north-south merger. Fed up after a series of inconsequential talks, they had decided to quit the union. 
    The militaries of the PDRY and YAR, which were not integrated after unity, went to war. Dhale was a key battleground during the fighting, which the northerners won, backed by tribal militias, mujahedeen recently returned from Afghanistan, and even former PDRY soldiers who defected after a bloody civil war in the south in 1986.
    Many southern officers and civil servants, including Shaye'a, were forced into early retirement after the war, and most accounts of the life in the south after1994 run down similar lines: of northern tribal, military, and economic interests taking over vast swathes of land and businesses; of soaring unemployment among southerners while northerners arrived to take juicy government jobs; and of brutal repression of any kind of secessionist sentiment or expression of southern identity.
    "Before unity," Shaye'a said, "I was a student at military college. I graduated in 1990, into unity. I practiced for a few years and then the war started. They kicked all our soldiers out, and I fled. I came back six months later. After they kicked us out, we lived in a miserable situation."
    In 2006, former military officers from the region began to organize protests at home and in Aden over low pensions and lack of jobs. A year later, Hirak was formed as an umbrella organization to bring together the plethora of southern rights movements that had sprung up since 1994. Today, it is made up of around seven major groups and many more splinter organizations, loosely formed around the Supreme Council of the Southern Movement, led by Hassan Baoum, a popular pro-independence activist.          
    ---- 
    Hirakis are not just disappointed former government workers. Many of the group's most vocal supporters are so young that they cannot remember life before unity. At one of the weekly marches the group holds in Crater, a volcanic outcrop of the Shamsan mountain which towers over Aden, Nour, 20, tried to explain her involvement in the movement.  
    "I was born inside unity; I don't like it. I want separation," she said. "It is unfair. I don't like the poverty. I want to get back the country. We need to support the demonstrations."
    Unemployment is a big issue for young southerners like Nour. Even those who do not actively support Hirak believe that the best state jobs go to the friends and families of Sanaa's political elite. This is frustrating and baffling to those who believe that most of the country's resources are located in the south -- two of Yemen's biggest oil fields are to be found in the former PDRY, while Aden was once one of the busiest ports in the world. 
    Other Hirakis have only recently come around to the secessionists' way of thinking. "I am from those who wanted to correct the road of the unity," said Nasser Mohamed Al-Khubaji, one of Hirak's top leaders in Lahj, as he reclined in the cushioned mafraj of his simple home in Radfan in mid-February. "I thought we could do something through parliament. But when we took up the case of the south, we faced aggression. People became angry with us."
    Al-Khubaji quit parliament after the 2007 shooting of southerners preparing for a rally to celebrate the anniversary of the revolt against the British by the central security forces. As a member of parliament for Lahj governorate, he had taken part in the preparations. "When we were preparing for our revolutionary activities, the military from the north came. They killed four and injured 20," he said. The opportunity for negotiation with the north died then, he said: "The time was over for talk."
    ----
    If Nour had been born to the north, she would probably have taken part in the protest movement that unseated Ali Abdullah Saleh in 2011, voicing frustrations about Yemen's northern elite similar to those heard across the south. But like many Hirakis, after initially supporting the revolution she came to see it as a largely northern affair.
    Yemen's 2011 uprising started as a nonviolent movement in the big northern cities of Taiz and Sanaa. But it soon descended into a violent elite power struggle, fought between military units loyal to Saleh and his son Ahmed Ali; those with ties to the powerful general and former Saleh ally Ali Mohsen al-Ahmar, and militias loyal to the tribal leaders and brothers Hamid and Sadeq al-Ahmar.
    The deal brokered by members of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) to end the fighting in November 2011 was an elite peace accord, Nour said, not a solution to southerners' problems -- the GCC deal explicitly references the problems in the south, but does not go far enough toward addressing southern grievances for many Hirakis. "I don't care about 2011; that was just a fight between Ali Abdullah Saleh and Hamid al-Ahmar," she said. "It has nothing to do with the south."
    ----
    Yet if foreign diplomats involved in brokering the accord are to be believed, the GCC deal presents a unique opportunity for southerners, in the form of a much-vaunted national dialogue conference. The deal's brokers have effectively staked Yemen's future on the dialogue's success and President Hadi has said that the country could descend into civil war if it fails.
    During six months of talks, which are due to start on March 18, the conference's organizers hope that working groups will be able to draft a new constitution and discuss solutions to the country's many problems, including the "southern question" as it is often described in Sanaa. Delegations from Yemen's many fissiparous factions have been invited to the conference and Hirak has been offered the second-biggest allotment of seats, 85 in total. Yet for many Hirakis, the conference is a non-starter.
    Despite diplomats' best efforts to convince them that attending the talks is in their best interests, a number of Hiraki groups have said that they will not go to the dialogue. Most vocal in rejecting the talks have been factions linked to Baoum and al-Beidh, one of the main architects of unity in 1990 and, since 1994, one of its biggest critics. They want bilateral negotiations between the north and the south over separation, not to discuss the shape of the unified state.
    ----
    Other southern movement leaders are more open to the idea of the talks. In March 2012 Mohamed Ali Ahmed, the former governor of Abyan governorate, returned to Aden after nearly two decades in exile in Britain. Diplomats overseeing the GCC deal, who describe him as a moderate, say that he has become a key point of contact in Hirak. Speaking at his home in Aden in February, he told Foreign Policy that he would go to the dialogue even though Hadi is yet to meet a series of demands that he helped southerners to formulate in 2012 as a precondition to taking part in the conference.
    "We will go so that the international community does not say that southerners do not cooperate," he said. "We cannot ignore the international community. We will [get our demands] from the inside. We cannot ignore the will of the people, but we want to use peaceful means."
    Ali Ahmed believes the creation of a two-state federal union between the north and south followed by a referendum after five years could be the best path to independence, an idea first floated by Hirakis in 2009. But the al-Beidh factions of Hirak, many who mutter that Ali Ahmed is working for Hadi to maintain rather than end unity, has become increasingly hard line.
    ----
    The differences between al-Beidh and Ali Ahmed run deep -- much deeper than mere strategy. On January 13, 1986, the bodyguards of then-President Ali Nasser Mohammed opened fire on a meeting of the PDRY's politburo. Former associates say that he hoped to consolidate his power by assassinating the leaders of a faction loyal to his predecessor, Abdul Fattah Ismail, who was killed soon after the fighting started. But Ismail loyalists led by al-Beidh gained the upper hand in the ensuing civil war and after a month of fighting Mohammed fled to the north along with tens of thousands of his followers. Among those who fled north with him were Ali Ahmed and Hadi -- Yemen's current president.
    Hirak's leadership has worked in recent years to reconcile the differences between the Toghma -- the winners of the 1986 war -- and the Zomra -- Nasser Mohammed's "desperate band" of followers -- hoping that the common goal of independence will be enough to patch over past rivalries and resentments. Since 2009, Hirak has held reconciliation marches every January 13 to mark the anniversary of the civil war. The 2013 rally was the biggest ever, according to the local Yemen Post. A number of Hirakis, who see the march as a watershed moment for the independence movement, claim that one million people attended (more reliable estimates run to the tens of thousands). But many Toghma still view their Zomra counterparts with suspicion. Some of the bloodiest fighting during the 1986 war occurred between militias loyal to Ali Ahmed and Baoum in Abyan; Shaye'a still recalls how his father, ministry of interior at the time, was killed by Nasser Mohammed's men at the January 1986 politburo meeting.
    Hirak is unified in its quest for independence, said Jubran, who is widely seen as al-Beidh's man in Aden (the former president lives in exile in Beirut) during an interview at his home in the southern capital a week before he was arrested. "There are a lot of disputes between the different parties of Hirak," he said. "But the main goal is freedom. We are unified. In some other parties they want five years and a referendum but they will not prevail. When we got independence in 1967 no one told us to make freedom or a referendum and we don't need a referendum now."
    "Ninety-nine percent" of southerners are behind the al-Beidh faction of Hirak, Jubran argued. While this figure is likely some way off -- and a of number Hirakis say that they support the equally pro-independence Baoum, who is based in Yemen, rather than Beirut-bound al-Beidh -- it is fair to say that a growing number of southerners are falling in behind the two men's uncompromising approach. And at rallies across the country, it is al-Beidh's image that is most visible on placards and banners. In Dhale and Lahj it is not uncommon to hear him described as "the president," a title he still bestows upon himself. Analysts estimate that support for the al-Beidh and Ahmed factions is split about 70 to 30 among Hirakis.
    ---- 
    Some southerners had hoped that the northern revolution would lead to improvements in life in the former PDRY, and worried that independence would require a long, potentially bloody, and hugely costly struggle. Others thought that having Hadi, a southerner, as president might see Hirak treated with more leniency and were encouraged when the huge reconciliation march in January was allowed to pass unmolested. But the violence in February proved a tipping point for even more moderate southerners.
    "I don't support Hirak, I am not a Hiraki," said Anas, a young southern woman who lives in Aden, in March. "But I no longer support unity either."
    Perhaps sensing the direction in which popular opinion is going, southern movement leaders who had previously expressed willingness to compromise have also been taking a more combative stance of late. In February, Haydar al-Attas, prime minister of Yemen's first unity government, said that he would reject an invitation to the dialogue and demanded that Jamal Benomar, the U.N. envoy to Yemen, oversee a referendum on independence.
    "In the end, they will all come around to our way of thinking or they will not matter," said one al-Beidh aligned Hiraki leader in response to the news. Ali Ahmed, who is not as widely popular as Baoum and al-Beidh, could lose the chance of a future role in the south if he attends the talks, he added.
    Many southerners are skeptical of the international community's intentions meanwhile. At the Crater march, Mohamed, a pro-independence activist, could barely contain himself. "Where is the international community in all of this?" he asked, an often-repeated refrain at the march. "Where are our rights? In the north, they fought for one year, people were killed, and the international community gave them their peace. The northerners have dominated us, killed us, stolen from us since unity. Where is our dialogue with the north? We have been fighting for 20 years, but still they ignore us."
    ----
    Thus far, the southern movement has been largely peaceful -- surprisingly so, given the availability of arms in Yemen and the number of disaffected, unemployed young men in the south. The leaders of even its more radical factions say that they are committed to peaceful protest, and while violence flared up in February, it did not boil over into the kind of devastating armed conflict seen in the north during 2011.
    But a number of questions about Hirak's more extreme wing remain to be answered, not least its commitment to a nonviolent struggle. While Hiraki activists at marches like those in Crater are unarmed, and it is easy to believe people like Nour when she expresses her commitment to a peaceful uprising, al-Beidh's arm of Hirak has been accused on a number of occasions of building its own militia, and has recently been linked with arms shipments from Iran. Clashes have broken out between Hirak-aligned armed groups and government troops in recent years, many of them in Dhale and Lahj, a stronghold for the al-Beidh faction.
    It is particularly hard to reconcile Shaye'a with the idea of Hirak's peaceful intifada. A number of Yemeni analysts say that he is one of the leaders of "The Movement for Self Determination," or Hatam, a militia formed after the civil war which has fought with the Yemeni military on a number of occasions in the past. In October 2010, a bomb placed outside of Al-Wahda Sports Club in Aden killed four people. The attack was blamed on Hatam, which planned to disrupt an upcoming football tournament, and Hirak. The government named Shaye'a as the ringleader of the group that planned the blast -- a charge he denies. "They are willing to say anything about the southern people," he said. "It is far from my peaceful revolution. I love sports." 
    Shaye'a remained tightlipped as to whether Hirak has armed militias in and around Dhale, but when he left his home, he clambered into a battered Toyota pickup, armed gunmen -- one man wielding a rocket-propelled grenade launcher -- bouncing in the back as the truck wound its way along the dirt road. Earlier, he had explained why he lived in Dhale rather than Aden.
    "We started here, in Dhale and in Radfan, because we were safe here," Shaye'a said. "Here, all the people are active with Hirak. Most of our army who were kicked out of their jobs came from here. Most of the military forces who were retired came from here. Here, the community helped us to start out activities. They were ready. The occupation forces were here -- there was action and there was reaction."
    Al-Khubaji, Hirak's man in Lahj, agreed that his area was under Hiraki control but disagreed that the movement's success in the area had been achieved through force. Hirak has spent much of the past six years building a parallel state structure, providing public goods to residents of the area, he said. "Most of our work is in enhancing administrative and regulatory capacities," he said. "Politically the governorate is under the rule of Hirak. But we are under occupation. Before us, the courts were full of cases. Now, we have the councils of Hirak to solve problems. We even solve security problems. I would say that 90 percent of Lahj is under Hirak control. The occupation forces are still here; here, but not in control."
    But few moments later, he added a familiar caveat. "Our movement is to get separation peacefully," he said. "But I cannot guarantee that other interests and movements will not take action. We insist on a peaceful movement. But we will not discourage anyone who wants to take this path." 
    ---- 
    It might not be long before it becomes apparent how, exactly, Shaye'a, Jubran, and others plan to move forward. Jubran -- who was freed in late February having declared his commitment to peaceful protest -- ended his interview with the promise that by the 20th anniversary of the south's last attempt at separation, it would be an independent state once again. "On 21 May 2013, you will see," he said. "The peaceful intifada will begin." 
    Within a year, he said, it would all be over.

    4/16/2013

    Did We Get the #Muslim_Brotherhood Wrong?

     


    Nope. But it's time to revise our assessments. 


     The deterioration of Egyptian politics has spurred an intense, often vitriolic polarization between Islamists and their rivals that has increasingly spilled over into analytical disputes. Some principled liberalswho once supported the Muslim Brotherhood against the Mubarak regime's repression have recanted. Longtime critics of the Islamists view themselves as vindicated and demand that Americans, including me, apologize for getting the Brotherhood wrong. As one prominent Egyptian blogger recently put it, "are you ready to apologize for at least 5 years of promoting the MB as fluffy Democrats to everyone? ARE YOU?"

     

    So, should we apologize? Did we get the Brotherhood wrong? Not really. The academic consensus about the Brotherhood got most of the big things right about that organization ... at least as it existed prior to the 2011 Egyptian revolution. U.S. analysists and academics correctly identified the major strands in its ideological development and internal factional struggles, its electoral prowess, its conflicts with al Qaeda and hard-line Salafis, and the tension between its democratic ambitions and its illiberal aspirations. And liberals who defended the Brotherhood against the Mubarak regime's torture and repression were unquestionably right to do so -- indeed, I would regard defending the human rights and political participation of a group with which one disagrees as a litmus test for liberalism.
    But getting the pre-2011 period right doesn't let us off the hook for what has come since. How one felt about questions of the Brotherhood's ability to be democratic in the past has nothing to do with the urgency of holding it to those commitments today. Giving the group the chance to participate fully in the democratic process does not mean giving it a pass on bad behavior once it is in power -- or letting it off the hook for abuses of pluralism, tolerance, or universal values.  That's why I would like to see Egypt's electoral process continue, and for the Brotherhood to be punished at the ballot box for their manifest failures.
    So what did we say about the Brotherhood, and what did they get wrong or right? I wouldn't presume to speak for a diverse academic community that disagrees about many important things, but some broad themes do emerge from a decade of literature. For one, most academics viewed the Brotherhood of the 2000s as a democratic actor but not a liberal one. That's an important distinction. By the late 2000s, the Brotherhood had a nearly two-decade track record of participation in national, professional, and student elections. It had developed an elaborate ideological justification for not just the acceptability but the necessity of democratic procedure. When it lost elections, such as in the professional associations, it peacefully surrendered power (and, ironically given current debates, it was willing to boycott when it saw the rules stacked against it). By 2007, it seemed to me that there was nothing more the Brotherhood could have done to demonstrate its commitment to democratic procedures in the absence of the actual opportunity to win elections and govern. I think that was right.
    And of course it had developed a well-honed electoral machine ready for use whenever the opportunity presented itself.  Nobody in the academic community doubted that the Brotherhood would do well in the first wave of elections. Academics also pegged public support for the Brotherhood at about 20 percent, not far off the 25 percent Mohammed Morsy managed in the first round of the presidential election. They correctly identified the organizational advantages the Brotherhood would have in early elections, which would allow them to significantly overperform that baseline of support against new, less-organized opponents.
    The Brotherhood's commitment to democratic procedures never really translated into a commitment to democratic or liberal norms, however. It always struggled with the obvious tension between its commitment to sharia (Islamic law) and its participation in democratic elections. Not being able to win allowed the Brothers to avoid confronting this yawning gap, even if they frequently found themselves enmeshed in public controversies over their true intentions -- for instance, with the release of a draft political party platform in 2007 that hinted at the creation of a state committee to review legislation for compliance with sharia and a rejection of a female or non-Muslim president.  As for liberalism, nobody ever doubted the obvious point that this was an Islamist movement with deeply socially conservative values and priorities. The real question was over their willingness to tolerate different points of view -- and there, deep skepticism remained the rule across the academic community.