Human Rights and Reform: Changing the Face of North African Politics

Human Rights and Reform

Human Rights and

Reform

Changing the Face of

North African Politics

SUSAN E. WALTZ

University of California Press

BERKELEY LOS ANGELES LONDON

University of California Press

Berkeley and Los Angeles, California

University of California Press, Ltd.

London, England

© 1995 by

The Regents of the University of California

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Waltz, Susan Eileen.

Human rights and reform: changing the face of North African politics / Susan E. Waltz.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 0-520-20003-9 (alk. paper)—ISBN 0-520-20254-6 (alk. paper: pbk.)

1. Human rights—Morocco. 2. Human rights—Tunisia. 3. Human rights—Algeria. 4. Morocco—Politics and government. 5. Tunisia—Politics and government. 6. Algeria—Politics and government. I. Title.

JC599.A365W35 1995

3 23’.0961—dc20 94-48264

CIP

Printed in the United States of America 987654321

The paper used in this pubheation meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z3 9.48-1984.

Contents

Contents

Preface

List of Abbreviations

1 Introduction

2 The Political Power of Human Rights

3 State and Society in the Maghrib

4 Tunisia: Strong State, Strong Society

5 State versus Society in Algeria

6 Morocco: God and King

7 The Emergence of a Maghribi Human Rights Movement

8 Challenging the Political Order

9 Human Rights and Political Discourse

10 The International Dimension

11 The Changing Face of North African Politics

Epilogue

Notes

Index

Preface

The North African states of Morocco, Tunisia, and Algeria had all won political independence by 1962, but this did not usher in the halcyon days many had dreamed of and hoped for. Over the past thirty years, governments or their agents have been responsible for blatantly contrived political trials, disappearances, political assassinations, and the torture and imprisonment of opponents. Human rights practices raised concern both at home and abroad, and in the late 1970s, individuals from within the region began to organize national human rights groups. This book is an effort to tell their story and understand their place in North African politics.

Human rights is often framed as a moral issue of vital concern to those with humanitarian or idealistic interests but only marginally related to the world of politics, where interest in order, security, and power prevails. That is not my approach. My understanding is that all human rights activists have an interest in the way power is used, and human rights groups in North Africa, the Maghrib, are essentially political actors. They are different from other kinds of political actors, however, in that they neither vie for spoils within the political system nor attempt to overthrow that system. Rather, they work from within a recognized game of national politics to change its operating rules. Neither saints nor revolutionaries, they are political actors with a stake in the system, seeking reform.

This book is thus a comparative study of North African politics in the second half of the twentieth century, viewed from the perspective of an important, but understudied, set of political actors. The analysis of their efforts and speculation about their impact depends, not simply on their own actions or the responses they have elicited from those in power, but also on the historical and cultural context in which they operate. Accordingly, a substantial portion of the book is devoted to an analysis of national politics that takes into account the power of both state and society. In each case I have traced political structures back to a precolonial period, both to combat enduring misconceptions that political life in North Africa began with the arrival of the French and to emphasize the very deep roots of certain political patterns. Deeply seated structures serve as both context and target for the work of human rights groups; moreover, they condition the strategies developed by the groups themselves.

Current academic interests in democratization and social movements provide some of the conceptual underpinnings of my analysis. This book is a product of its time both in terms of the concepts it uses and the phenomenon it studies. Scholarship generally follows the march of history, and in due course the academic interests that frame the study will fade. Indeed, developments in eastern Europe and the former soviet republics have already caused enthusiasm for democratization to wane, and students of the Middle East are now less sanguine about prospects of democratization in that region than they were even a few years ago. Recognizing that events will in time overtake this book, I would point readers to the questions it raises about the nature of political structures and the way they are shaped and transformed. This, I believe, will be its most enduring feature. In writing this book I hope to record an important moment in North African history, but it is also my intent to offer a comparative view of political developments and to present an analytical framework that will accommodate a long view of politics in the Maghrib.

My analysis and conclusions are critical of contemporary leaders and policies they have pursued, but I do not intend the book to be hostile. In the course of writing it, I have come to appreciate the difficulties of political restructuring for all concerned. Set patterns are not easily altered, and power is not readily surrendered, or shared, by those who hold it. Nor should it necessarily be. Political philosophers have long wrestled with questions about who should hold political power, and a case can be made even for the despot or an oligarchical class that makes difficult political decisions to ensure stability and enhance prosperity. But power is also seductive. Lord Acton is so often quoted because the truth he offered resonates with experience: power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Despite legal commitments to the contrary, North African leaders have not refrained from abusing the powers they hold.

In the preparation of this book I have incurred many debts, the oldest of which is an intellectual debt to John McCamant. Long before it was intellectually fashionable, he asked questions about human rights, repression, dominance, and resistance. I was fortunate to be his student. At about the same time, Charles Micaud introduced me to the Maghrib, and I also wish to acknowledge at the outset the impact that has had on my life. Over the past twenty years, North Africans have taught me much about compassion, generosity, duty, and the depth of human connection; my life is richer for having crossed theirs.

In writing the book I owe the greatest debt to participants in the North African human rights movement themselves. In trips to the region or as they visited the United States, from 1989 to 1993,1 interviewed more than two dozen individuals actively involved in the creation and/or the continuing function of Maghribi groups. Some spoke guardedly; others were more candid in their assessment of the human rights movement and its place in politics. Collectively, those I interviewed provided rich insights, without which the book would undoubtedly have taken a different direction. It is thus with regret that I have decided not to acknowledge them by name in these pages or to cite interviews with them in the text. Many of these individuals are quite prominent in political life and relatively immune to persecution, and in any case are willing to assume risks. Some would surely appreciate recognition. Others, though, are more vulnerable, and I wish to avoid making their lives more difficult. As I write, many human rights activists in Algeria live in fear of their lives; a member of the Moroccan Association of Human Rights was tried and convicted for crimes of opinion in 1993; and in Tunisia human rights lawyers who have defended Islamists are followed by plainclothesmen, and their telephone lines are monitored. Activists in international human rights organizations are less subject to such pressures, so I very gratefully acknowledge here an interview accorded me by Maître Daniel Jacoby, president of the International Federation of Human Rights, and the assistance in locating documents and verifying facts extended to me by researchers at Amnesty International’s International Secretariat and Maryam Elahi at AIUSA's Washington office.

Universities make research of this sort possible, and at various stages Florida International University made generous contributions to the research and writing effort, as did the Office of International Studies and Programs at Michigan State University while I was on sabbatical leave in 1991-92. The American Institute for Maghrib Studies supported some of my travel to North Africa, and I have been grateful for the periodic use of its research facilities at the Centre d‘études maghrébines à Tunis. I have also benefited from the support of a wide circle of friends, family, and colleagues, and regret not being able to mention them all by name. I would, however, like to acknowledge the contributions of Karen Dainer-Best, Darden Pyron, and Ralph Clem, who provided encouragement at critical mo ments along the way. Miraan Sa, Jody Pavilack, Dan Pierce, and Cheryl Grimshaw helped prepare the manuscript, and I am grateful for their able assistance. For their comments on individual chapters or the entire manuscript, I am indebted to Damian Fernandez, Ann Mayer, Jill Crystal, John Ruedy, Henry Munson, Liz Hodgkin, John McCamant, Marguerite Rol- linde, Nicholas Onuf, and Mohiaddin Mesbahi. Their insights and suggestions strengthened both the analysis and its presentation. Any remaining errors and omissions are, of course, my responsibility alone.

The costs of writing this book have been borne primarily by two people, Jack Smith and Dan Pierce. Dan’s wisdom and understanding by far exceed his years; I am grateful for his patience, his impatience, and his readiness to celebrate. As my partner, Jack has been a thoughtful critic and dear friend throughout the enterprise; without him, quite simply, this book would never have been.

List of Abbreviations

PART I

Human Rights and the Politics of Change

Politics has been defined as a matter of who gets what, when, and how, and accordingly, the game of politics may be discussed in terms of the rules that govern the allocation of political values. Political analysis generally begins with recognition of the parameters of a political game, and analysts make their task one of identifying operational rules and the moves that can be made within their bounds. By definition, illegal moves lie beyond the scope of regular political play and so for the most part escape scrutiny.

That is not to suggest that rules are never challenged. Revolutionary movements offer only the most dramatic evidence of efforts to change the rules of the political game. Most systems harbor some players, or would- be players, who contest existing structures, but more often than not, their actions are without consequence. Through political repression or legal constraints they are excluded from play, and the game goes on.

Some players inevitably persist, however, and a combination of contextual factors that include social and economic conditions, political leadership, the history of political institutions, and the power of the Zeitgeist may carry reform or revolutionary efforts to fruition. In the 1980s, such possibilities captured imaginations around the globe. Voices were raised against authoritarian rule, and repressive governments fell. Scholars wrote tomes on the process of democratization, which in a fundamental sense involves changing the rules of the game.

A vision of democratizing reform and expanding possibilities of participation touched North Africa, as it did other regions, and this book traces the efforts of one set of actors inspired by the possibilities of structural transformation. Human rights groups in North Africa have spearheaded a democratization movement, but ironically, their efforts have not received the attention they merit. Their position in the game of politics, whether as monitors or as challengers of the rules, puts them beyond a scope of vision focused on established structures and conventional players. Human rights activists have not been conventional players, but their contribution to the North African games of politics has been substantial. Part I of this book develops an analytical framework that allows their efforts to come into focus.

1 Introduction

Attention to the possibility of democratic transformation that has gripped scholars in recent years initially swept unnoticing past the Middle East. In consequence, interesting developments in Middle Eastern societies were neglected. Although the region as a whole remains characterized by authoritarian rule, by the late 1980s there was evidence of a growing concern about the linkage between governed and governors.¹ In November 1989, Jordan held its first full legislative election in more than twenty years. The popularly chosen parliament began to exercise atrophied muscle by investigating allegations of corruption in government agencies, referring several of them for judicial investigation. Following dissolution of the Kuwaiti parliament in 1986, Kuwait saw a popular expansion of its diwaniyya, a system of informal networks that generally promoted the sharing of interests within occupation groups. Diwaniyyas in the late 1980s evolved into political fora where the guest audience frequently numbered in the hundreds. Parliament was restored in 1992, and the new legislature promptly formed a human rights committee. In Egypt, associational life began to expand, and the concerns of intellectual critics increasingly found voice.² Within the greater Middle East, democratization seemed in the late 1980s to stand its best chance in the Maghrib, where the forced departure of Tunisia’s President Habib Bourguiba focused attention on political problems, and where just a year later, turmoil provoked by economic crisis called the viability of Algeria’s social contract into question. Expectations of democratization were raised high across the region.

In the interim, the euphoria has waned; skepticism has in large measure replaced the optimism of the late 1980s. All the same, societal pressures for democratization remain stronger than at any time in the recent past. Among elites in and out of power, questions of structural change still pro voke animated debate. Into the 1990s, across the Maghrib, small groups of individuals, most of them professionals, found themselves meeting in homes or restaurants specifically to discuss matters of public policy and political action. Their relatively quiet, but persistent, efforts to effect liberalizing political change merit close examination. It is to such efforts that this book directs attention.

Efforts, of course, are not to be confused with results. Regardless of expressed concerns and accompanying efforts, democratic transition is far from a certain outcome in the contemporary Maghrib. Many forces are at work, and the ventures of democratically oriented elites are only one among them. An eventual transition is far from assured, but likewise, it cannot be precluded. From the vantage of this book, the outcome of the present ambiguous situation is less critical than understanding pressures for structural change and how they are articulated. Even the truncated stories of failed or incomplete transitions can reveal much about the impetus for structural reform. Studies of accomplished democratic transitions have pointed up weak areas in our understanding of the process by which change is initiated. Little is known, for example, of the tactical decisions made by opposition elites, who in many situations have provided the impulse and the framework for democratization. As useful as it is to identify the conditions under which their actions are likely to be successful, of equal relevance are the factors that make them decide to act. An investigation of the exertions of opposition elites as actions are planned and executed affords a different perspective than that presented in post hoc studies of achieved transitions. Retrospective studies that project backward from successful transitions may screen out false starts and negative outcomes. Such an approach is appropriate when the focus is on the success of structural transformation; it necessarily yields fewer insights into the impetus for action that initiates a transition and carries it forward. A close-up, in situ view offers an opportunity to observe crafting in progress and apply analytic tools to help understand the process of democratization.

What is to be understood as democracy in a region where there are few indigenous referents? Even in the abstract, consideration of democratization is problematic, for the meaning of the word democracy itself is subject to dispute. The historical evolution of democracy and democratic theory from classical Athens to the contemporary period has given rise to a variety of governmental forms and theoretical models. With choices as extreme as those represented by Karl Marx and John Stuart Mill, democratic thought is like a tree with many grafted branches: the varieties of fruit may be only distantly related. Dominant perspectives alternatively emphasize representation and participation, and historical combinations have been myriad. What at root serve as the common denominator to different perspectives are twin notions of popular choice and accountability, although exactly who constitute the responsible citizenry remains at issue.³ In a work commonly recognized as a central referent for democratic theory, Robert Dahl posits as defining characteristics of democracy, or polyarchy, the right to participate and the right to oppose. For Dahl, the noteworthy advantage of democracy does not lie in the particular policies it may produce, for in their content democratically produced policies may differ little from those arrived at by other political means. Democracy’s major virtue is found, rather, in the protection from massive coercion it extends to those who enjoy the franchise.⁴

Form rather than content affords this protection from tyranny. Building on Joseph Schumpeter’s argument that democracy is best seen as a political method, or institutionalized competition, democracy at its core is a set of agreed-upon rules for resolving conflict. Conflict is inherent in politics, and democracy distinguishes itself in recognizing that fact, enshrining rules that establish the parameters of acceptable—and unacceptable—political activity. Within the established bounds, uncertainty of outcome in political struggle is the hallmark of democratic process. Inherent uncertainty introduces an added measure of anxiety into democratic politics, but it is the source of the system’s strength. The fact that the game is not fixed in advance keeps at the table many players who otherwise might retire in dismay, disgust, or indifference. Losing one round in democratic politics does not preclude winning the next, and vice versa.

The North African societies at the heart of this book, or at least important segments within them, have been clamoring for increased access to decision-making structures and increased influence on outcomes. In Tunisia, the Movement of Socialist Democrats (MDS) for many years carried this banner, and for the past decade, Islamists have most vocally contested the monopolistic control of power. Likewise, the proliferation of parties in Algeria after political liberalization in spring 1989 attested to widespread, albeit fragmented, interest in access to power. In Morocco, where multi- partyism has long been constitutionally enshrined, but the role of parties has been circumscribed, organized labor pressed for political change. In 1990 it shifted its attention away from economic demands to concern for the political rights to organize, strike, and criticize government policy without fear of reprisal.

As Maghribi regimes flirt with the idea of democracy, the strongest proponents of liberalizing change have sounded their voices most often from the wings, at some distance from the seats of power. Their commitment to institutionalized democracy—and the possibility of political defeat—goes untested, but their demands and their commentary have helped shape a debate among elites about the nature of democratic governance. Criticism of personalism and monopolistic, single-party rule sets the measure of such discussions, and it has become as much a part of popular political culture in Tunisia and Algeria as has acknowledgment of the monarch’s hold over the political system in Morocco. While some have focused narrowly on openly contested national elections, others have argued that democratization is a process that to be effective must extend beyond multi- partyism and open elections to respect for the independence of law.

As either product or ongoing process, democracy requires active cultivation. Even in well-established democracies, the continuous reproduction of democratic rule both in the polity at large and in smaller organizational groupings is far from automatic.⁵ In societies struggling to establish avenues of participation and structures of accountability, the opportunities for failure abound, and outcomes are highly uncertain. Returns on democratization may be both unevenly distributed and slow to show themselves; as a structure of governance, democracy will likely prove more cumbersome than the alternatives. Guiseppe DiPalma notes that arriving at a working democracy requires not simply the proper raw materials, but considerable craftsmanship, and the mastery of the craftsman becomes that much more critical absent congruent elements of political culture to provide even indirect support. When … countries arrive on the threshold of democracy without those structural or cultural qualities deemed important [for sustaining democracy], when [they] arrive under conditions of harried and divisive mobilization, then the task of crafting should be the more crucial and challenging. Whatever the historical trends, whatever the hard facts, the importance of human action in a difficult transition should not be underestimated.⁶ The shape and durability of the outcome is a function, not only of advantageous contextual conditions, but of particular judgments made at particular junctures with more or less political skill.

The shapers of governance structures everywhere include the universal suspects of politics: old elite families, bourgeois industrialists, the military, sectarian groups and religious leaders, labor unions, and political parties. Although the salience of given players varies according to national history, the Maghribi countries of Tunisia, Algeria, and Morocco offer examples of the full panoply of actors and actions. The region has known reform, revolution, and stagnation; its era of twentieth-century independence opened on a newly formed republic, a revolutionary socialist state, and one of the world’s oldest ruling monarchies. The prominence of such national leaders as Habib Bourguiba, Hassan II, and Houari Boumediene has tended to obscure the more ordinary and less visible effects of mobilization parties and the relatively quiet bargains struck by elites, but in the ongoing lives of their polities, these political forces have molded the patterns of contemporary political culture. Clientelism, factionalism, and governmental centrism have all helped shape the political process, building institutions and developing patterns that, if far from being to the satisfaction of all, have nevertheless resulted in a high degree of order and continuity. The dynamics of the political process as they have evolved over the past thirty years are explored in Chapters 3-6 of this book. At this point, it need simply be noted that, in the long view and by comparison either to sub-Saharan Africa or the eastward reaches of the Middle East, the three states of Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia have been noteworthy for the upper hand they have kept over popular disruptions.

All the same, basic tensions have not dissipated, and neither have the problems of polity formation been fully resolved. On the contrary, the prospect of chronic economic difficulties has raised serious questions about Maghribi states’ continued ability to satisfy their citizens, and the rise of Islamist ideology over the past two decades is indicative at very least that views differ as to how the polity might be organized. To a significant degree, Maghribi states consolidated their powers by embracing a welfare function. With the greater demands of a larger, more educated, and urbanized population and a concomitant scarcity of resources, however, the expectation of state strength has become a political liability. Yesterday’s state functioned effectively with limited popular access, doling out services and subsidies where desirable or expedient and exercising political repression elsewhere. Today’s state, with relatively limited resources, faces a fundamental challenge of participation. The old game leaves too many would- be players on the margin, threatening social cohesion. Total abandonment of established patterns threatens chaos, and statesmen do well to move with caution. Yet where the established political game enters another iteration of demand and unsatisfying response, perhaps with superficial modifications intended to placate marginalized players, the results are ever more disappointing. Maghribi statesmen today face the serious challenge of injecting flexibility and resilience into the institutions crafted a generation ago. The contemporary political challenge is to alter, without entirely scrapping, the rules of the game.

A conceptual distinction between metapolitics and relational politics points up the critical nature of the choices at hand.⁷ Relational politics de notes the efforts of players within an established framework to affect a political outcome. These are the moves—advances, retreats, alliances, and compromises—that determine the distribution of political goods. The analysis of relational politics customarily assumes the basic stability of the social, economic, and institutional parameters within which players operate. That is, variation is expected within the formal and informal structures of a reasonably well-anchored political system; the terms of the struggle are uncontested and figure largely as background, contextual variables. Where events occur to undermine the efficacy of existing arrangements, those erstwhile contextual variables are brought center stage. Metapolitics refers to the political dynamics of efforts to set and alter the rules and parameters of political contests. Regime transformation necessarily involves alteration of the system itself and entails efforts to reset the operating political parameters. It is the nature of a transition to call into question old arrangements. In such periods, actors old and new seek to satisfy interests, carrying out the business of relational politics, but they are also engaged in efforts to establish rules and procedures whose configuration will determine likely winners and losers in the future.⁸ Transitions are more than just an old contest with new actors. To a significant degree, they engage energies in an effort to create a new political game.

Uprooting established patterns of political interactions and redirecting social energies is a daunting task. Inevitably, the attention of actors and observers alike is directed to formal structures—constitutions, parliaments, courts, and electoral systems. Formally articulated structures represent only the tip of the iceberg of politics, however, and they are difficult enough to change even with an expressed popular mandate. Informal patterns anchored in a society’s political culture present an even greater challenge, insofar as their foundation and perpetuation are rarely examined by those enmeshed in them. Culture provides a social frame of reference, and as such it is commonly perceived as an extension of the natural order. Culture’s power to orient energies is enhanced by the fact that it is reproduced without being articulated and thus remains unquestioned. The invisibility of patterns to those who operate within a culture—and even more so, the invisibility of their roots—leaves those patterns resistant to change. Structural forces work on culture as wind and water work on stone, but continuity is the lawful expectation of culture. Even revolutionary political change, or structural transformation, must eventually reconcile itself with patterns of socialization reproduced in small parochial units.⁹ Appreciation in recent decades of the monumental proportions of the task of transformation has led many observers to doubt the probability, if not the possibility, of far-reaching political change in the direction of democratization in societies with a long history of authoritarian rule.

The power of political patterning notwithstanding, an impulse toward important political change is readily apparent in North Africa. As already noted, the rise and spread of Islamism across the Maghrib and the proliferation of political associations signal shifting, and sometimes contradictory, frameworks of political interaction. Change must be considered as more than hypothetical—without being inevitable. It has been argued that modernity ineluctably drives cultures toward tolerance and cultural flexibility, an adaptive response to the rapidity of change and recognition of the diversity imposed by technologies that have reduced cultural isolation.¹⁰ To the extent that modernity is a ubiquitous social force, democracy—with the emphasis on form rather than content—appears more consonant with cultural flexibility than authoritarian structures. From that vantage, some have argued that democracy is the political form of choice, and of history.¹¹ In fact, nothing is less certain. Human responses at both personal and social levels often fly in the face of wisdom, and history. The crafting of democracy is fraught with uncertainties; opportunities to slip abound. However desirable, democratic forms do not simply appear. They must be worked with skill, and given the formidable difficulties of political engineering, democracy is far from assured as the product of current political demand. Indeed, there are few indications that those who now clamor for access to the structures of governance would, if in power themselves, be inclined to share that power. The rhetoric employed to contest monolithic structures of power opens up the possibility of democratizing change, but transformation is hardly guaranteed.

If democracy in its essence is a set of rules that leave open the question of political victory, how are such rules established? Who or what social groups have the capacity to direct structural transformation? In the Maghrib, social and political structures that might assist in the birthing of democratic rule are themselves weak or compromised. Ruling parties cling fiercely to their power; opposition parties are fragmented and weak. With few exceptions, the industrial bourgeoisie has no base independent of government. There is little history of pluralism; such associations as do exist steer carefully clear of politics. Labor unions, the notable exception, are dwarfed by political parties in Morocco and co-opted by central power structures in Algeria and Tunisia.

Among the conventional players, only the courts offer some promise. Through powers of adjudication, courts may ideally function as referees in the game of politics. That function turns on trust and good faith, how ever, and requires impartiality of the referee. The willingness of courts to accept evidence extracted under torture, or falsified testimony, compromises that requisite impartiality Courts across the Maghrib are not universally compromised, but neither is the full independence of the judiciary established. In recent years, courts have begun to exercise their powers more fully, and over time they may be expected to play an important role in limiting arbitrary power. In August 1991, for example, a Moroccan court refused to convict Islamist students charged with petty theft and insults to bureaucrats (outrage à fonctionnaire) on grounds of insufficient evidence. With the government’s blessing a few months later, the Algerian Constitutional Council struck down a provision of the 1991 electoral code allowing men to procure the vote(s) of their spouse(s). It remains that at the present juncture a court system that in the past has been compromised in the most critical cases cannot bear responsibility, ex nihilo, for the safeguarding of a democratic polity.

If the who of democratic transition is problematic, the how is no more obvious. Bargaining strategies have been suggested as one important avenue to structural reform. Recent experiences in Tunisia and Algeria, however, have failed to establish viable working rules of democratic procedure. Tunisia’s 1988 National Pact, intended to oversee a transition to a democratic contest, was discredited within months. Islamists, included in the negotiation of the pact, were denied formal access to the electoral system, and stringent rules of candidacy exacerbated the problems of new parties trying to compete. The ruling party’s complete sweep of the legislative contest in 1989 confirmed cynics in their belief that it did not intend to share power, and the once-celebrated pact faded from Tunisia’s political landscape.

In Algeria, Prime Minister Sid Ahmad Ghozali’s difficulty in late 1991 in selling parliament a package of electoral reforms that would credibly guarantee an open electoral contest further illustrates the problems inherent in bargaining among the elite as a path to democratizing reform. In an open political market, competition for spoils may well entail establishing rules for their distribution. However, where the outcome of an eventual contest is or appears to be embedded in those rules themselves, mistrust in the immediate term of the democratic intent of at least one important player may overshadow longer-term interest in opening up the political system. Bargaining strategies are unreliable as a route to open contest and may be as likely to sabotage democratization as to promote it.

Government-led liberalization seems no more trustworthy as a sure path to democracy. Liberalization may signal the need of an authoritarian regime to reach beyond the bounds of its coalition for additional support, but it may also simply be the means by which an authoritarian regime buys time for itself. Political succession, economic crisis, or manifest loss of legitimacy signaled by popular protest may provide the impetus for liberalizing measures intended to establish or bolster legitimacy. The political need for legitimacy cannot, however, be depended upon to sustain liberalization. Legitimacy is certainly useful to a regime, in that it reduces the need for coercive measures, but as Adam Przeworski notes, many regimes manage to establish and maintain a hold on power through fear, or the simple lack of alternatives.¹² Liberalization seemed critical to establish the legitimacy of Zine el Abidine Ben Ali’s claim to power in the aftermath of the bloodless coup that removed Habib Bourguiba from office in 1987. In time, however, with the military and security apparatuses under firm control and any threat from the legal opposition minimized, political liberalization has become less compelling for the regime.

It is against this backdrop of increased demand for access to the political system and a mixed response from the regimes that hold the reins that the emergence of a North African human rights movement takes on political significance. Since the mid 1970s, an organized commitment to the protection and promotion of human rights has taken shape across the Maghrib. In the three countries of Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia, six human rights groups now pressure their governments to exercise their authority within the bounds of law. The Tunisian League of Human Rights, founded in 1977, is in many regards the doyen of the Maghribi movement. It was not the first such group to appear, that title having been claimed by the Istiqlal Party’s Moroccan League of Human Rights as early as 1972, but it was the first politically independent group. Political unrest shook Tunisia within a year of the league’s founding, seriously testing the league’s commitment to its cause in the face of risk to its own members. The league passed that test, and for several years