[As mass demonstrations in Algeria continue, protesters and others have variously mobilized historical memory to articulate their demands as well as their sense of place in the broader trajectory of Algerian politics. To learn more about these dynamics, Jadaliyya turns to Muriam Haleh Davis of the University of California, Santa Cruz and co-editor of Jadaliyya’s Maghreb Page.]
How are Algerian protestors invoking the memory of the Algerian War of Independence?
Many of the slogans we have seen are direct appropriations of revolutionary language that dates to the War of Independence (1954–62). To give just a few examples, there have been signs that say “‘ashrun sena barakaat” (twenty years is enough!), which is a clear reference to the slogan: “seba‘ snin barakaat” (seven years is enough!). Algerians chanted this latter phrase in the summer of 1962, when for a brief moment it seemed possible that internal tensions from the revolution may drag Algeria into a civil war. Similarly, “un seul héros, le peuple” (only one hero, the people) has also been circulating both online and at the protests. This, too, is a phrase that dates from the War of Independence.
Also observable are differing views of the Algerian War of Independence, which have long structured political fault lines in the country. One sign from the protests was a tombstone for the FLN, on which the following was written: “FLN Born: 1963, Deceased: 2019.” Here we can also infer a particular Berberist reading of Algerian history in which the FLN defeated the Socialist Forces Front (FFS) in September 1963 after the latter’s unsuccessful insurrection. In other words, by dating the “birth” of the FLN to 1963, this poster also questioned the FLN’s historical legitimacy as the leader of the War of Independence, which began in 1954.[1]
Furthermore, the first person killed in these protests (who some Algerians see as a martyr) was Hassan Benkhedda. He was the son of Benyoucef Benkhedda, a nationalist leader during the War of Independence. To add historical weight to this situation, he was also the nephew of Mohamed al-Ghazali Belhaffaf, a nationalist militant of the Algerian People’s Party (PPA), who was killed by a French soldier when he refused to put away his home-made Algerian flag during the May 1945 massacres.
I should also point out that the slogans have been wonderfully inventive and diverse. For example, we have seen references to the French Gilets Jaunes (Yellow Vests); and even to Chuck Norris! Slogans from the Arab uprisings have also been heard, but I think it is important to keep in mind the specificity of Algeria, which is evident in the vocabulary of these protests: we have heard invocations of hogra (the contempt and injustice felt in daily life), the zouali (someone of modest origins), and chkara (the trash bag in which you give someone money, a short-hand for corruption). This vocabulary of political critique is thus rooted in Algerian realities. Furthermore, soccer chants have denounced the building of the East-West highway, the symbol par excellence of the corruption and inability of the government to provide services for its citizens. In a particularly Algerian register, protesters have also expressed their hope that this summer they will vacation not on the badly-maintained beaches near Algiers, but the Club des Pins (the elite resort of Algerian generals and politicians). From the country’s much-loved cartoonists to prank calls to the Geneva hospital where Bouteflika currently resides, a characteristically Algerian humor has punctuated the unfolding of current events.
My point here is that it would be a mistake to think about these protests solely in light of the War of Independence. Yet it is unmistakable: the revolutionary narrative is being refashioned and re-appropriated rather than rejected. In some ways, this can be seen in one slogan in Arabic that stated, “the best way to honor the dead is by his burial, not his election.” Here we see that rather than denigrate the entire revolutionary tradition (of which Bouteflika is undoubtedly a part), protestors are trying to script a new chapter of that history.
What is the significance of the recent declaration of the National Organization of the Mujahideen (ONM) to endorse the protests?
I think this is extremely significant. Just last month, Bouteflika’s then-campaign manager and ex-Prime Minister Abdelmalek Sellal made the ONM headquarters the destination for his first official visit. Sellal sought to emphasize Bouteflika’s own status as a moudjahid and was indeed able to secure the support of the organization. This changed radically when Said Abadou’s (the general secretary of the ONM) expressed support for protesters this week, going so far as to call them the “grandchildren” of the generation of 1 November 1954, firmly including them in the revolutionary family. Given the regime’s long-standing attempts to depict the Algerian youth as lazy, and Sellal’s message to the youth that they need to have “confidence” in the government (an incredibly paternalistic stance), the revolutionary tables are certainly turning.
How do these dynamics fit into the broader developments in Algeria?
Events are unfolding quickly and a number of historic organizations—most notably local chapters of the UGTA (The General Union of Algerian Workers)—have thrown their weight behind the protestors. The UGTA was established during the War of Independence, and also has historical credibility as a revolutionary actor. It has had, however, a complicated relationship with the regime. The Socialist Forces Front (FFS), which is the Berberist opposition party formed in 1963 by Hocine Ait-Ahmed, has also expressed solidarity with the protesters, although this development is perhaps less surprising.
In addition, there has been wide-spread excitement about the appearance of the moudjahida Djamila Bouhired in protests last week. Zohra Drif-Bitat (also famous for her role in the revolution) announced that she plans to protest on Friday (8 March), which in turn garnered a similar reaction. We also see a wider political imagination being expressed in the students who are making Facebook videos outlining revolutionary pedagogy, which include the hashtag #ABookInTheHandOfEveryStudent (kitab fi yed kul talib). This broadening can be seen in the shows of solidarity that are occurring throughout the Maghreb.
All of this underscores how the memory of the revolution is being used to construct a very different set of political possibilities. In short, the memory of revolution is not being rejected. Instead, protestors are reinventing this category, harnessing it to their own vision of Algeria’s future, which certainly does not include Bouteflika.
Why is historical memory so important in Algerian politics?
It is often said that any statement about Algerian politics is also a commentary on Algerian history. It is hard to overestimate the role that the Algerian War of Independence (1954–62) plays in contemporary political discourse. The legitimacy granted to those who participated in the War of Revolution is not just a symbolic gesture. It carries tangible benefits, including housing allotments, preferential healthcare, and stipends. The National Organization of the Mujahideen (ONM), created in 1963, and the Ministry of the Mujahideen are responsible for granting veterans certificates, which confers these benefits. In addition, Article 157 of the current electoral law states that candidates born before 1 July 1942 must present a certificate testifying to their participation in the revolution. Put differently, those born before this date are required to prove that their parents were not involved in acts deemed “hostile” to the revolution.
I should also point out that historical memory and the question of martyrs has not been static. It has evolved in the shadow of the 1991-2002 civil war. Article 59 of the 1989 constitution stipulated that the state would ensure “respect of the symbols of the Revolution, the memory of the shohada and the dignity of their beneficiaries and of the mujahideen.”[2] While this clause clearly invoked the revolution, the deeper goal was to counter the growing influence of the Islamic Salvation Front (FIS), which had been gaining in popularity due to its provision of social services.
The two wars (revolutionary and civil) live on in other ways as well: a third-worldist spirit continues to impact how people view politics, despite the country’s adoption of liberal economic policies and the regime’s cooperation with the US-led War on Terror. Many Algerians are proud of their revolutionary heritage, and yet the country has not forgotten the lessons of its civil war. Indeed, when protests continued into the night on Sunday, 3 March 2019, there was a palpable sense of tension. Observers worried that any sign of violence—even perceived violence —could be used by the regime to clamp down on the protesters. In this regard, the memories of military brutality during the civil war are very much present.
What we are seeing now is a combination of both of these legacies. On the one hand, protesters are upholding the Algerian Revolution as a source of pride, appropriating its symbols that the regime has monopolized and instrumentalized for so long. On the other hand, those in the streets have been vigilant at every turn to make it clear that these protests are peaceful and civil (silmiya), that they are inclusive (and respectful) of women, and that they are rooted in a responsible sense of civic action (there have been many protestors cleaning up parks, a counter to the oft-heard discourse that Algerian are dirty or slothful). I can only echo the words of those who have taken to the streets in a truly inspiring show of mobilization: In Algeria we are witnessing nothing less than the “widening of the domain of the possible.”
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[1] Paul Silverstein, Algeria in France: Transpolitics, Race, and Nation (Bloomington: Indiana University Press), 70.
[2] Raphaëlle Branche, “The Martyr’s Torch: Memory and Power in Algeria,” The Journal of North African Studies 16, no. 3, 422.