The civility & un-civility of the relations
between secular and religious NGOs in
Algeria
Dr. Francesco Cavatorta
School of Law and Government
Dublin City University
and
Centre for Contemporary Middle East Studies
University of Southern Denmark
E-mail: Francesco.cavatorta@dcu.ie
Paper prepared for the BRISMES Workshop “Liberation, Domination, Expression:
Micro-political processes”, University of St Andrews 8-9 February 2009. Please do not
quote without author’s permission.
Introduction
In one of the first thorough examinations of civil society activism in the Arab
world conducted under the direction of Richard Norton, John Entelis (1996), writing on
Algeria, argued that ‘without a well developed civil society , it is difficult, if not
impossible, to have an atmosphere supportive of democracy.’ This view is quite typical
of the positive normative connotations that civil society enjoyed at the height of
democratization studies. The linkage between civil society and democracy has been
particularly strong within the liberal tradition and democratic theory in general postulates
that ‘civil society forms the bedrock of good democratic governance’ (Browers, 2006).
When attempting to analyse the reasons for the absence of democracy in the
Middle East and North Africa (MENA), it is not surprising to find that one of the most
popular explanations has to do with the ‘variable’ civil society. This has given rise to a
number of approaches to the study of civil society in the Arab world, which have
diverging and at times conflicting assumptions, but also share the preoccupation of
linking their approach to the wider democratization literature. More recently, this is
changing due to larger problems with the democratization literature from both a
theoretical and empirical perspective and changes in the conceptualisation of civil society
itself. This paper builds on this recent work and questions the validity of approaching
civil society activism in the MENA within the inflexible paradigm of democratization
and with a normative definition of civil society. Rather, this study analyses the reality of
such activism with all its nuances and divisions and de-links it from the democratization
literature and its normative take on civil society. This does not mean that such study does
not have implications for the processes of regime change that are taking place in the
region, but it argues equally forcefully that such processes might not go into the direction
of political pluralism and might on the contrary be ways in which a different type of
political authoritarianism is constructed.
The first part of the paper is a general
discussion of the state of the literature on civil society in the Arab world, while the
second part, building on Jamal’s (2007) theoretical framework examines civil society
activism in North Africa questioning some widely held assumptions about civility and
incivility.
Civil society and democratization in the Arab world
In an article for the Journal of Democracy in 2000, Laith Kubba proclaimed that
the ‘awakening of civil society’ in the Arab world would be the decisive factor in
challenging the authoritarian regimes in the region and eventually lead the Arabs to the
“promised land” of democratisation. This belief in the positive role of civil society
activism stemmed from three factors. First and foremost was the quasi-natural acceptance
of the theoretical assumption that civil society activism is per se conducive to
democratisation where authoritarian exists and to the maintenance of democracy where
democracy already exists. Second, the historical experience of the 1980s and early 1990s
processes of democratisation seemed to prove the assumption correct, as the cases of
Eastern Europe and Latin America are very rarely analysed without mentioning the
importance that civil society had in restoring democracy in both regions. In fact, ‘Eastern
Europe and Latin America …can in a sense claim “ownership” of the revival of the civil
society idea in the 1980s.’ (Glasius et al., 2004:3). Finally, the majority of the countries
in the Arab world had seen the emergence of a significant number of civil society
organisations engaged in the promotion of very diverse issues ranging from human rights
to governmental accountability and from business transparency to environmental
protection (Howe, 2005).
The paradigm of transition to democracy and how the move from authoritarian to
democratic governance occurs had always had an in-built teleology and rigidity, whereby
the process just needed to get started to almost inevitably end with the instauration of
democracy even if there were bumps and setbacks on the road. More recently however
some scholarship on democratisation has begun to re-consider many of the assumptions
of the transition paradigm. First and foremost critics of the transition paradigm
concentrated their attention on the reality of world politics and began to argue that when
one applies ‘democratic criteria’ in a strict manner, only a handful countries actually
managed to make a successful transition to a system of government that is truly liberal
and democratic. Accordingly, on an imagined continuum the vast majority of countries
are stuck between rigid authoritarianism on the one hand and democracy on the other.
The novelty of a number of recent analyses (Brumberg, 2002; Volpi, 2005; Hinnebusch,
2006) is that these political systems, rather than being transient, are examined as if they
were permanent arrangements. It follows that they should be studied in their own right
without the expectation that they will fully move to the democratic stage. Thus, there is
today a literature arguing that the whole transition paradigm should be abandoned
because its assumptions are no longer valid in interpreting the current reality. The main
problem according to Carothers (2002:7) is that ‘no small amount of teleology is implicit
in the transition paradigm’ and that scholars and policy-makers alike should reassess the
validity of the supposed sequence leading countries out of authoritarian rule and towards
democratic governance (Carothers, 2007). The re-evaluation of the transition paradigm in
terms of the sequence that supposedly characterises transitions has an impact not only on
the stages and outcome of processes of democratisation, but has profound implications
for political actors central to such processes, including civil society groups and their role.
It is therefore unsurprising that the whole concept and practical application of civil
society in the context of democratisation has also undergone a profound re-examination.
Within democratic theory the assumption that civil society is per se a positive
development leading to democratic governance or to the strengthening of democratic rule
where it already exists has come under severe criticism (Encarnacion, 2006). In addition,
the experiences of Eastern Europe and Latin America have been empirically re-evaluated
and a degree of scepticism has emerged regarding the actual importance of civil society
activism in the transitions to democracy in both regions (Tempest, 1997). Finally, the
explosion of civil society activism in the Arab world itself has met with considerable
scepticism from regional experts (Langohr, 2004; Wiktorowicz, 2000; Cavatorta and
Elananza, 2008). These wider debates have had a profound influence on the study of civil
society in the region, which presents three main approaches regarding the state and
importance of civil society in the Arab World, both as an explanatory variable and a
policy-making tool.
The first view, following the traditional normative definition of the concept, treats
it as being exclusively a liberal one and argues that in the region such civil society is very
weak and therefore unable to pressure the regime into making democratic reforms
(Abootalebi, 1998; Yom, 2005). This school of thought, building on the assumption that
the concept of civil society is an inherently Western one (Gellner, 1994), argues that it is
very difficult for civil society to strongly emerge in a cultural setting that operates
according to different values. In the aftermath of the colonial period, civil society was
entirely subsumed to the nationalist project which required a high degree of social unity
and cohesion and therefore aligned to the position of the authoritarian leaders of the
nationalist struggle (Pratt, 2007). Once the project of post independence modernisation
failed to deliver economic success, international equality and domestic social progress,
civil society began to raise its head again and to turn against the ruling elites. The
problem is that such dissent did and still does not coalesce, according to this first school
of thought. This does not mean that liberal civil society activism is absent in the Arab
world, but the activism, both social and political, of the Islamist movements overshadows
it. The pre-eminence of Islamism is due to its ability of re-energising the modernisation
impetus through religious precepts and symbolism. It follows that while the new liberal
civil society actors sharply criticise the authoritarianism of the political system in the
name of what are considered to be Western values, the dominant Islamist alternative
largely proposes the same corporatist arrangements of the past, although underpinned by
a different ideological referent, which is much easier to understand and appreciate for
Arab citizens. Islamism proposes a ‘catch-all’ discourse that replaces secular nationalism
with a religious one, which is appealing to broad sections of the population irrespective
of their social and individual status. The project of political Islam is a totalising one
because it simply re-frames the conceptual categories which the previous national
consensus was built on in religious terms. In addition, Islamist groups and associations
are practically able to demonstrate that their ideological references are ‘concrete’ in so far
as they provide for the welfare of citizens as much as the early nationalist elites were able
to do immediately after independence. Through their networks of social activism,
Islamists are able to offer a glimpse of the promise of the continuation of non-Western
modernisation that ruling elites betrayed. This view of civil society activism can
contribute to explain the absence of meaningful alternatives to the current regimes in
power, although it is admittedly based on an ‘ideal type’ categorisation of associations
into Islamist and secular/liberal. In conclusion, the first school of thought postulates that,
based on a strict liberal definition of civil society, there are only very few liberaldemocratic civil society organisations that promote and defend democratic values and
Arab states are able to dismantle or co-opt them with relative ease. The weakness of Arab
civil society is therefore assumed to be a great obstacle to democratisation and political
change. Within this approach, it emerges quite clearly that the liberal/secular groups
represent the civility of democracy and the part of society that the donor community and
the West in general should be interacting with and support, while the Islamists represent
the incivility of a new authoritarianism.
The second view, following the revisionist approach, conceptualises civil society
in neutral terms and refuses to assume that the concept has positive connotations. The
argument is that civil society as a whole does not have per se any normative liberaldemocratic traits and does not necessarily promote liberal values. This means that what
matters are the groups that make up civil society and, more importantly, what are the
values they subscribe to. The assumption here is that civil society can be strong and
‘uncivil’ at the same time (Kopecky and Mudde, 2003). Accordingly, at closer inspection,
Arab civil society emerges as being rather strong and active because it displays a
significant number of groups and associations that operate autonomously from the state
and attempt to influence the political system, while, at the same time, trying to keep it in
check. For instance, Berman (2003) argues that civil society activism is strong,
particularly in a context where states are quite weak, lack popular legitimacy and are on
the ‘retreat’ from the public sphere. Thus, while the state still retains a strong hold on
Arab citizens, an increasing number of activities, including the provision of social
services, have fallen to private and autonomous organisations of civil society.
Accordingly ‘the region is replete with domestic political activism’ (Singerman, 2004:
149) which is not based on political parties, but on civil society organisations. The picture
that emerges is therefore one of a strong civil society, which is, however, wholly unsuited
to promote democracy and human rights because the main groups and associations within
civil society are Islamist. The assumption that Berman makes about civil society in the
Arab world is that it is an ‘uncivil’ one because Islamist associations dominate it and the
ethos of Islamist organisations is by nature un-democratic and illiberal. Once again,
Islamism is equated to incivility, which dominates society, while the civility of the
liberals is marginalised.
The third view suggests that civil society has indeed been strengthening over the
last decade, with a significant surge in the numbers of organisations being created. This is
empirically confirmed in a number of studies on Arab countries (Howe, 2005; Sater,
2007). However, this is not necessarily a sign that the ruling elites are losing control of
their own society. Quite the contrary is true, as many civil society organisations are
largely creations of the state itself, while others are either beholden to the state or fully
co-opted. This generates an artificial civil society where, at best, autonomy of action is
really limited and, at worst, it is an instrument for ruling regimes to keep a very close eye
on social developments and issues in order to better pre-empt opposition (Wiktorowicz,
2000). In this context, the concept of civil society entirely loses its normative value.
What distinguishes this approach to civil society from the previous ones is that it treats
both liberal and Islamist movements as part of the problem for the absence of a
meaningfully democratic civil activism. Rather than considering liberal civil society as
the beacon of enlightenment in the region and, by implication, conceiving of Islamist
organisations as the forces of darkness, it attempts to explain civil activism through an
analysis of the authoritarian constraints in place, which force all civil society
organisations to make a significant amount of compromises with the authorities, leading
therefore the majority of them to work and, indirectly, accept the current system of rule.
This approach is quite different from the previous ones in so far as it does not make a
clear-cut division between the incivility of Islamists and the civility of liberal/secular
organisations. In fact, this approach places in the same category of non-autonomous civil
society and therefore unable to produce political change.
This argument is quite interesting and it has a degree of empirical validity because
it is beyond doubt that many civil society groups are indeed creation of the ruling
regimes. However, arguing that the Arab world does not have autonomous groups
operating at civil society level does not reflect the reality, as the Arab state, due to
external and domestic constraints, has had to change considerably, allowing for the
formation of associations and groups independent from it. The argument of this study is
that not only authoritarian constraints shape the dynamics of civil society differently from
the ones that characterise civil society in established democracies, but that framing all
this within the logic of democratization and therefore point to civil actor wanting
democracy and uncivil ones not wanting it is misplaced. With a different starting
assumption, the analysis of civil society activism in the region might be close to what the
reality is and not how it should be.
Civil society under authoritarian constraints
In her study of civil society dynamics in the Arab world, Jamal specifically
analyses how they lead to reinforce authoritarian rule and how an increase in trust and
social capital has reverse effects on attitudes towards democracy. Jamal argues that
associational life in authoritarian contexts is distinctively different from the one in
established democracies. The dynamics that are produced in the relationships between
authoritarian regimes and civil society organizations are fundamentally different despite
the fact that similar trends, such as the increase in interpersonal trust among association
members, exist in both authoritarian and democratic contexts. The argument is that the
authoritarian constraints the regime put in place make it necessary for associations to
decide which side they are on. If the association wants to achieve some of its objectives,
it will have to play by the rules of the authoritarian regime. Thus, it is only through
corrupt networks of patronage that the association will be able to satisfy the basic needs
of its members and achieve its goals because only the regime can deliver the ‘goods.’
These networks however reinforce the central role of the authoritarian regime because
they strengthen non-democratic access to decision-makers. Paradoxically, social capital
increases within these pro-regime associations because their members, by playing within
the constraints provided, can be reasonably certain of positive outcomes for the group,
which then has no interest in dismantling such networks in favour of fairer and more
democratic ways of access to decision-makers because this would diminish their benefits.
The opposite is also true and anti-regime organisations, which do not utilise or do not
have patronage networks available to them, have lower levels of social capital because of
their more democratic values, which do not allow them to obtain the same level of
benefits. The pro and anti-regime labels are probably more effective than the Islamist and
secular/liberal ones because they better capture the personalistic nature of many these
networks, which at times are much more significant than ideological differences. Jamal
does not write off the difficult work of many autonomous anti-regime organisations, but
civil society in the end does not produce democratisation because authoritarian dynamics
provide a very rigid structure of incentives for associational life and do not permit the
emergence of democratic attitudes.
While Jamals’s study is a much welcome contribution, it is also concerned with
the issue of democratization. The problem with this preoccupation is that the autonomous
civil society groups active in the Arab world might not share the same preoccupation with
democracy and democratization that Western scholars and practitioners have. When one
examines what individual associations within civil society do, it emerges quite clearly
that they have a very specific mission, usually contained in their mission statement,
concerning the promotion or defense of a rather narrow and specific issue. The work of
the organisation is therefore aimed principally at satisfying the interests of the members
on that issue, which might or might not coincide with the enhancement of democracy in
the country. This is true for secular and liberal groups, but also for Islamist ones, which
are usually seen as opponents of the regime a priori while this might not really be the
case, particularly when they area charitable organizations (Clark, 204). Sweeping
generalisations about the role for civil society are therefore misplaced and easy
categorizations should not be attempted. Civil society groups in the Arab world operate in
what they perceive to be ‘normal’ conditions and therefore attempt to achieve their goals
by working within the given system, independently from the ideological persuasion they
or the majority of the members might have. This makes civil society relations normal and
normalised. The struggles they have with each other for influence over a certain issue
reflect the same ones that we find in established democracies. The competition over
limited funds is similar to the competition that we have in democracies where funding
sources are also limited. The linkages and networks they build in their cooperative efforts
also reflect a ‘normal’ development when examined in broader context. When it comes to
relations with the ruling regime, a degree of normality is also present. At times, some
groups will have the ‘ear’ of the government, while other groups are marginalised and
have no access. This is again quite the standard in established democracies as well where
changes of government always reflect in changes at the social level on who dictates the
agenda emanating from society.1
1
For example, with the recent change in the US administration, we suddenly have pro-choice groups being
much more influential that in the past when pro-life groups dominated the agenda.
In conclusion, if we exclude that an increase in civil society activism is always
pro-democracy and that civil society associations cannot be easily divided into civil and
uncivil ones, the picture that might emerge from the MENA might be different from the
one we imagine and closer to the political reality of groups having to operate within a
pseudo-democratic system.
Algeria: preliminary findings
The case of Algeria is quite an interesting one to examine because here we find a
strong military in a power struggle with its civilian counterparts over the control of the
leverages of power (Mortimer, 2006) within a context of political liberalisation. It is also
in Algeria where we find both a strong secular civil society imbued with the concept of
laicité and a strong Islamist current. In addition, politics and civil society activism are
taking place in post-conflict situation where the role of political violence is still
significant. From an analytical point of view, North Africa and Algeria in particular have
represented for at least two decades the area where perceived secular civility battled with
Islamist incivility. French language scholarship on Algeria is a testimony to this
dominant interpretation. It follows that notions of civility and incivility have
characterised discussions about civil society dynamics, as Islamism is per se considered
to be uncivil and highly problematic given the secular nature of that should be at the heart
of governing any society. Despite some scepticism emerging within French scholarship
about the role of civil society in democratization (Ferrié, 2003), Algerian secular civil
society is believed to be not only a rampart against Islamism, but also a powerful force
for change.
At a closer look however, a much more complex and nuanced picture emerges,
particularly when one takes into account the institutional and, more importantly, the legal
constraints that exist in Algeria when it comes to regulate freedom of association. Before
the democratisation period of the late 1980s and early 1990s, freedom of association was
severely restricted. The 1964 decree regulating this matter stated that prefects (walis)
should ‘impede the formation of associations that, under the guise of social, cultural or
artistic activities, tend to pursue political ends that undermine the internal and external
security of the State.’2 This gave considerable leeway to the state to close down any
possible avenue of dissent. Cultural associations with an anti-regime agenda did emerge
in the early 1980s among the Berber minority, but it was not until the passing of Law 9031 in December 1990 that Algeria saw an explosion of civil society activism. At the time
a number of organisations dealing with all sorts to issues and activities were created and
began to carry out their activism with a significant degree of autonomy as the ruling elites
seemed indeed intent on liberalizing the country’s society and political system. Thus,
associations dealing with previously sensitive topics such as human rights, national
identity, development and the environment were created. Law 90-31 still regulates
freedom of association in Algeria, but in a radically changed political environment its
provisions seem now very restrictive. In addition, the emergency law which has been in
place since 1992 allows the state to override the other decrees in place if they are deemed
to be in conflict with the requirements of the emergency law. Specifically, Law 90-31
requires that associations cannot be set up before having acquired the permit to operate
and fulfilled all the administrative formalities. The application for authorisation is
however not a formality and it is by no means a guarantee that the authorisation will be
given. In addition an association cannot begin to operate before having been wholly
regularized. Such regularization consists of three steps: a) a declaration of incorporation
has to be presented to the authorities; b) within 90 days the association has to be issued
with a receipt of registration; and c) publication of the notification of incorporation in a
national newspaper. There are a number of reasons that the state utilizes to reject the
registration of associations because the law has a provision whereby associations whose
work is deemed to be detrimental to the interests of the struggle for national liberation
are not registered and therefore cannot operate. The problem with such a wide scope for
interpretation of this provision is that it leaves a huge amount of discretionary power to
government officials in the Ministry of Interior. In addition to this, associations are
mandated by the authorities to incorporate elements that have to be included in the
statues. This, together with the obligation for the association to also submit a huge
2
See http://www.euromedrights.net/pages/440/page/language/1
number of documents, makes the administrative procedures cumbersome and difficult.
Associations that see their registration rejected have no recourse and the state does not
have to motivate its rejection. Once an association has been duly registered and can
therefore begin its work, interference from the state does not cease because their work is
monitored quite strictly, particularly in cases where the issues that the association is
involved in are sensitive or controversial. The government can for instance require the
courts to suspend or disband an organisation if the association is deemed to be breaking
the law or not upholding the statute. De facto interference from the authorities also
undermines the day to day running of organisations as they might be ‘infiltrated’ by
security services. A strict monitoring of members also takes place as the law mandates
that associations supply information about individual members to the authorities and this
has a negative effect on recruitment of new members because people might be afraid of
being monitored in their private activities. This sort of interference is permitted because
of the emergency law. When it comes to public meetings the same emergency law for
instance overrides the provisions of Law 90-31 and no public event can be held without
the prior authorisation of the Ministry of Interior and the prefect. Finally, when it comes
to funding and controlling how funds are employed, the authorities have again a high
degree of discretionary powers to monitor and eventually punish associations. Strict
monitoring of how funds are collected and spent occurs very regularly and it is mandated
by the law that associations inform the authorities of any funds they receive. When it
comes to foreign funding, associations that wish to receive donations from foreign
organizations ‘must obtain prior authorization from the government, supply information
on the donors and the amounts involved and show that these funds will be used to pursue
the stated objectives of the association.’3 When Law 90-31 was first passed it generated a
significant amount of enthusiasm because it permitted the creation of organisations of all
sorts from cultural to environmental and from human rights to sport. This indicated a
genuine attempt by the state to follow through on its promise of liberalisation. Given the
liberal political context at the time, it is no surprise that a significant number of
organisations were created and that the state did not see fit to make registration difficult.
3
See http://www.euromedrights.net/pages/440/page/language/1
The changed nature of the political system and the general political environment
due to the military coup, the civil war and the current war on terror has made the
implementation of Law 90-31 more restrictive than it was originally intended to be. If
one also adds that the emergency law overrides some of the provisions of Law 90-31, it
can be concluded that civil society associations in Algeria face a very restrictive legal
environment. The overbearing presence of the security services on civil society activism
is both de jure and de facto and it prevents civil society to grow and to be a wholly
autonomous force for change. Thus, the environment within which civil society operates
is quite different from the one in established democracies, but the objectives of the civil
society groups are the same: satisfy the needs of the members and pursue activities that
fulfil the mandate and objectives they have. What becomes important therefore is how
organizations manage to achieve such objectives and this where the assumption that civil
society as a force for democratization fails the empirical test and where the lines between
civility and incivility are blurred. One of the most significant issues for civil society in
Algeria is the fate of the disappeared and the help that should be provided to the victims
of political violence. It is therefore not surprising that there are a number of organizations
dealing with this specific issue despite the fact that this is a controversial issue for the
regime. The civil society dynamics on this issue are quite paradigmatic of the complexity
of activism in Algeria and its influence of the political system. The Organisation
Nationale des Familles des Victimes du Terrorisme (ONFVT) was established in 1993 to
provide moral, financial and legal assistance of families of the victims of terrorism.
Specifically, the association has established a cell of psychological support for victims’
families, it supports victims’ offspring in their education and professional endeavours and
it organises conferences and seminars where the issue of how to deal with the
consequences of terrorism is discussed. The organisation also lobbies the government to
confer a special status for the victims of terrorism. This organisation, as mentioned
above, stands out among the ones dealing with the issue of ‘families of victims of
terrorism’ because of its good relationship with the government and in particular for its
support for the President’s controversial National Reconciliation Charter. While similar
associations, as we will see, were very sceptical of the charter or outright opposed to it
because it guaranteed a general amnesty to perpetrators of crimes, the ONFVT was very
much in favour of it. The association sis secular and quite close to the government, but it
has faced the opposition of other equally secular organisations opposed to the Charter,
but with the similar objective of helping the families of victims and disappeared. The
Collectif ‘B’net Fathma N’Soumer’, for instance, was established with the objective of
providing legal, psychological and administrative assistance to women and children who
are the direct or indirect victims of terrorism and political violence. The organisation has
no organic relationship and much like the larger human rights groups in Algeria it was
opposed to the Charter.
Somoud is a similar group and was established in Algiers in 1996 with the
objective of defending the rights of the victims’ families, providing them with the
necessary guidance, legal and social support. The families of the victims of terrorism are
the main constituency of reference and the organisation tries to influence political actors
to try to make this issue central to the political debate. The group has relations of
friendship and partnership with political parties such as FFS, RCD, RND, Islah and FNA,
but not with the government. Raising awareness through press conferences, seminars and
access to media is a crucial part of their work and it is this public aspect that upsets the
government. The collectif des familles de disparu(e)s en Algérie was established in 1998
and its has the specificity of being both French and Algerian. It is dedicated to
accompanying and advising families of missing persons; educating and training officials
on human rights; formulating complaints; lobbying for truth and justice and fight against
impunity. It is this particular stance that put the organisation on a collision course with
the authorities at the time when President Bouteflika was pushing through his national
reconciliation law, to which the collectif was opposed on the ground that it did not reveal
anything about the fate of the disappeared, it granted a blanket amnesty to perpetrators
and only provided some financial compensation to families of victims but no ‘justice.’
The collectif tried to influence the public debate and to have access to policy-makers and
were keen on engaging in dialogue with the public authorities, but numerous invitations
and requests for meetings with the President and members of cabinet went unanswered.
However, the collectif held a number of meetings with the president of the state’s
CNCPPDH (la Commission nationale consultative de promotion et de protection des
droits de l’homme) Mr. Farouk Ksentini, as well as with various representatives of
political parties. This testifies to the importance of the issue and to the personal links that
members of the organisation have, but it also indicates that on such an issue the
government was not ready to engage with civil society. Accordingly, the association’s
work was disrupted on a number of occasions. The authorities have systematically
refused to grant a legal status to ‘disappeared people’ committees; the office in Algiers
has to relocate every year as a result of the pressure put by the authorities on the owners
of the premises the collectif rents and members of staff in Algiers have had to deal with
threats, arrests and harassment during demonstrations, especially those organised against
the ‘peace and reconciliation charter’. The lawyers of the families of the disappeared also
face judiciary harassment. Despite facing such difficulties, the collectif is able to organise
numerous events where the issue of the disappeared can be publicly tackled. This
organisation is obviously very different from the ONFVT and represents the other side of
the debate regarding eth disappeared and the victims of political violence.
Djazairouna was established in Blida in 1996 with the objective of providing
social, legal and psychological support for the families of the victims of terrorism. It was
founded by the families of the victims who were assassinated or kidnapped as well as of
those who managed to survive terrorist attacks. The members of the association are all
victims of terrorism in the Blida prefecture and in order to become members they need to
have a certificate from the security services attesting to their status as victims. Since its
creation, the association has delivered material, moral, psychological and administrative
support to over 200 victims every year. In ‘political’ terms the association works for the
arrest and trial of the Islamist terrorists who committed and ordered the acts of terrorism
that plagued the Blida prefecture during the civil conflict. It also pushes for the
promulgation of a statute for the victims of terrorism. This political position places them
at odds with the regime and with the law of national reconciliation passed by the
government, which grants a full amnesty to both Islamist fighters and members of the
security forces. The association is very much opposed to what the director terms ‘the
occultation of justice by impunity’ and to pursue its objectives, the association organizes
illegal sit-ins and demonstrations calling on the authorities to honour their duties
regarding remembrance, truth and justice. This is the reason why the association does not
receive any public funding for its work and is barely tolerated by the authorities. Ms.
Nacera Dutour, whose son disappeared a number of years ago when he was taken by the
security forces, represents SOS Disparus that is ‘vaguely’ Islamist and whose objective
is to find out the truth about those who disappeared at the hands of the state. The
association has similar objectives and mandate to the other more secular ones. An
examination of the activism of these different organizations within this ‘topic’ leads to a
number of interesting observations. First of all, there is an interesting cooperative trend
between organisations with a different ethos or nature. Thus, we have organisations such
as ‘Our Algeria’, which was founded specifically with the objective of providing support
to the victims of Islamist violence, cooperating and sharing the same scepticism towards
the reconciliation charter with organisations such as SOS Disparus, which was founded to
support the victims of state violence (Christiansen, 2006). Secondly, within the same
camp, we find competitive dynamics. For instance within the loosely labelled
secular/liberal camp we have organisations supporting quite strongly the reconciliation
charter clashing with those groups with a similar ethos that considered it a whitewash.
Thus, the paradox is that Ali Benhadj, who argued strongly, in the only interview
of the last 13 years, against the law of national reconciliation takes the same side as the
Algerian League for Human Rights (LADDH) and Somoud, which is linked to the Kabyle
parties. Benhadj asserted ‘how dare they speak of national reconciliation when we have
been living under emergency law for the last 14 years?’4; this line of thinking finds the
agreement of many in the civil society sectors who are liberal secular and would not have
much in common with Benhadj. Finally, all organisations attempt to use the same
channels and hold similar activities to see their most preferred outcome implemented.
This largely involves lobbying the government and using personal contacts to do that.
Even organisations claiming that they have a poor relationship with the authorities and
are harassed by them are ultimately dependent on access to them because without it their
activities and impact are even more limited.
All this has important repercussions on how one analyses civil society dynamics
in Algeria. The first significant point to be made is about the civility/incivility dichotomy,
which seems to lose its power and meaning in this case. If we assume that the struggle to
4
Le Monde, April 4th 2006, p. 3.
reject the Charter was a battle for civility, we then have to accept that Islamism in this
case belongs to the sphere of civility because of its defense of basic human rights.
Conversely, we would have to argue that some sectors of the so-called liberal and secular
civil society are quite uncivil as the defended and promoted a whitewash of the crimes
committed during the war. One could say that the organisations in favour of the charter
are part of the civil society ‘created’ by the ruling regime to give the impression of
pluralism and this might be in a sense correct, but we should also take into account the
possibility that such organisations do represent legitimately a sector of society on this
issue. In addition, the organisations that were against the charter were allowed to organise
demonstrations and receive funds from abroad from their activities. Does this hinder their
independence and autonomy from the ruling elites? This leads to a second important
point which has to do with the divisions that exist within civil society. This cannot be
easily divided into a liberal/secular sector that is inevitably pro-democracy and prohuman rights and into an Islamist sector that is obscurantiste. The lines are much more
blurred and the issue of the families of the disappeared and victims of terrorism is one
area where these divisions disappear. Sharp dividing lines between laicité and Islamism
might resurface in other contexts, such as women’s rights, but they are not a permanent
feature of activism. A final point is that the evidence from Algeria confirms Jamal’s
theoretical assumption about civil society activism actually strengthening authoritarian
rule. This occurs because all organisations are very aware of the constraints they operate
in and as much as they dislike the ruling regime, they also need it to achieve some o fits
objectives. Most organisations are single issue orientated and therefore to be effective
they need to ‘show’ results on that issue, which is only possible by not shutting down all
avenues of communication with the regime. This is true for both Islamist charitable
organisations (Clark, 2004) and secular ones as the Algerian case demonstrate.
The most significant finding of the study is however not that civil society activism
might not promote democracy. The relevance of the study is that it concludes that
‘democratisation’ is not a priority of civil society. Individual members and activists might
be personally interested in and committed to democratisation, but the organisations are
not necessarily reflecting these individuals’ commitment. This is because there seems to
be the widespread realisation that the political system within which they are operating is
not a transient one and if it is not then it needs to be dealt with if at least some of the
objectives of the organisations are to be achieved.
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