Ben Jelloun sees the Arab Spring as a string of revolts and not revolutions. In The Spark he makes a rough comparison between, for example, the Tunisian revolt and the Portuguese Carnation Revolution, which, in 1974, overthrew a forty-year-old dictatorship and gave people the right to vote, free health care, pensions for the elderly, and free public education. The Carnation Revolution was carefully planned and led by Otelo Saraiva de Carvalho. The junior officers of the military simply deposed their Portuguese superiors and set up a three-person junta that guided the country to democratic elections. The Carnation Revolution led to a new, democratic state with entitlements for virtually every class of people. The Portuguese were thrilled to have their repressive regime removed and to see instead respect for civil rights and the rule of law. The Arab Spring revolts, however, failed to have an outcome similar to the Carnation Revolution. Tunisia is the only nation in the region to have emerged from the Arab Spring with a democratic state. “Tunisians have shattered the dogma that citizens of the Arab world must either accept a secular authoritarian status quo or must submit to Islamist authoritarian rule” (Ryan 2014). The New York Times applauded Tunisia’s achievement: “After a long and often fraught process, Tunisia has managed to produce the most liberal constitution in the Arab world, and it has done so through consensus” (“Tunisia’s Remarkable Achievement” 2014). Then, in October 2015, a group of labor, business, legal- and human-rights activists called the National Dialogue Coalition won the Nobel Peace Prize. The Nobel committee cited the coalition’s “decisive contribution to the building of a pluralistic democracy in Tunisia in the wake of the Jasmine Revolution of 2011” (Chan 2015).
There were earlier, occasional revolts in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region, but they were strongly repressed, and all the opponents were eliminated. Everything had been done to suppress the emergence of the individual as a singular entity. The French Revolution allowed French citizens to become individuals with rights and duties. “In the Arab world, it is the clan, the tribe, the family that is recognized, not the person as an individual,” writes Ben Jelloun in The Spark. Yet, the individual is a voice, a person who has a say and who expresses his opinion by participating in free and fair elections. “That’s what democracy is about: it’s a culture based on a social contract,” Ben Jelloun adds. “This is why,” he contends about the Arab Spring, “it’s not an ideological revolution.” There was no leader, no guide, and no party to propel the revolution forward. It was millions of ordinary people who poured onto the street because they ran out of patience and tolerance. It is a new kind of revolution: spontaneous and improvised.
The Spark condemns Arab presidents who behave like absolute monarchs and stay in power by force, by corruption, and through lies and blackmail. Ben Jelloun argues that once leaders come to power, they think it is for eternity, whether the people want them or not. In order to appease the West, they establish a sort of “formal democracy.” Everything’s in their hands, though, and they will not tolerate any opposition. While in power, they do business, get rich, and keep their money in American or European banks. For Ben Jelloun, a crucial outcome of the Arab Spring is that dignity and honor have been restored to a whole generation. Arab citizens will no longer remain silent, submissive, and at the disposition of contemptuous power. Ben Jelloun hopes “an Arab man will become an individual who has a name, a voice, and all his rights” after the experience of the Arab Spring.
Wrapping up The Spark, Ben Jelloun tries to summarize the Arab Spring’s aspirations, even if its reality fell short of the ideal. He writes,
What took place in Tunisia and Egypt is by nature moral and at the same time ethical. It’s a full rejection, without compromise, of authoritarianism, corruption, theft of the country’s resources, nepotism, favoritism, humiliation and illegitimacy that lie at the base of these leaders’ coming to power and whose behavior is similar to the ways of the mafia. These protests bring a little bit of moral hygiene in a society that has been so exploited and humiliated. (L’étincelle 2011, 31–35)
When asked if he felt personally touched by the events, Ben Jelloun responded:
I am still affected by the events that are unfolding in the Arab world. I am appalled; I am angry; I am horrified by the massacres in Syria and by the impotence of the United Nations and the West. The Arab world is in the middle of a revolution; at the moment, we see only drama and blood. Perhaps something good will come out of all this — a real democracy, secularity, and a prosperity that will help the most destitute. (Treisman 2013)
Ben Jelloun cares deeply about politics, is interested in the Arab Spring and its future. Yet, he considers himself a writer only, not a political engagé: “I’m not a political writer. I am a citizen, concerned about politics, but I’m first and foremost a storyteller, a novelist, and a fabulator who plays with words and with the imaginary” (Triesman 2013).
Tahar Ben Jelloun: The Storyteller
Tahar Ben Jelloun is perhaps the contemporary Moroc-can author best known in the United States, and he is one of the most translated, read, and studied Maghrebi writers in Europe. Shortlisted twice for the Nobel Prize in literature, Ben Jelloun is the recipient of many international literary awards including the Le Prix Goncourt in 1987 and the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award in 2005. In his more than thirty-five works — which include novels, poetry collections, short-story collections, plays, many works of nonfiction, essays, meditations on current events, and documentary writings — he confronts and denounces corruption, exploitation, racial and gender discrimination, violence, and dictatorship. His interests stem from his youth in Morocco, where in 1966 he was sent to a military camp as a result of his participation in a rebellion against the repressive and violent acts of the Moroccan police. It is at the camp that he started writing. His work is also informed by his education in psychology and experience as a psychotherapist.
Ben Jelloun was born to a family of modest means. Perhaps because he participated in the rebellion against the violent acts of the Moroccan police and was sent to a military camp as his punishment, he is in a position to understand the suffering of North Africans living difficult lives in what continues to be a difficult political environment with a high unemployment rate. Ben Jelloun is in a position to understand what Mohamed Bouazizi may have suffered under dictatorship.
Ben Jelloun’s Ethics and Aesthetics
Translating an author of Tahar Ben Jelloun’s stature demands that I know his ethical and aesthetic priorities, which, in turn, calls for thinking beyond the strictly biographical. French writer Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clézio said: “Tahar Ben Jelloun is a man the most concerned about time that I know. That is to say, time which passes, time which urges us on and engages us, and this time which is ours, sometimes so difficult and unjust” (Le Clézio 2000, 3). Ben Jelloun penetrates the superficial veneers of social practice to expose violence and injustice; he has firmly established himself as a writer who speaks for the socially marginal. Le Clézio calls Ben Jelloun, “the bearer of a very ancient wisdom, inherent from Moroccan civilization” (Le Clézio 2000, 4). He admires Ben Jelloun’s natural elegance, his taste for sharing, and the seriousness with which he addresses himself to his audience. I too see Tahar Ben Jelloun as a humanist who often writes about the socially marginal and lends his voice to those who cannot speak, mostly to people of modest means.