‘Work, Freedom and National Dignity’

Male unemployed graduate activists in post-revolutionary Tunis

June 30, 2014

Written by Touraj Eghtesad

Supervisor : Dr. Ellen Bal

Second Assessor: Dr. Lenie Brouwer

Master’s Thesis in Social and Cultural Anthropology

VRIJE UNIVERSITEIT AMSTERDAM

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Master’s thesis Touraj Eghtesad Student number: 2533937

Supervisor: Dr. Ellen Bal Second assessor: Dr. Lenie Brouwer

Social and Cultural Anthropology Faculty of Social Science

VU University, Amsterdam Amsterdam, 30th of June 2013

Word count: 24,687 (excluding Appendix and Bibliography)

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Acknowledgements

To my wonderful family and friends for all your encouragement in my travels and research. Without my

mother, I would never have been an academic and without my father, I would never have become a

traveler. Thank you both for these beautiful gifts.

To Rosanna, your motivation and love keeps me going. My fascination and struggle for the well-being of

others could not have become my central life focus without you. You are truly an inspiration.

To Dr. Ellen Bal and all the professors in the Department of Social and Cultural Anthropology at the VU:

you have kept me on track and inspired me to want to become an anthropologist. Thanks to your

kindness and incredible work, I can no longer envisage anything else for myself.

A tous mes jeunes amis tunisiens, vous savez qui vous êtes. J’ai rencontré des jeunes passionnés et

capables avec de grands cœurs et une hospitalité extraordinaire. Vous avez un si beau pays, mais vous

n’avez pas eu les opportunités que vous auriez dû avoir. Notre monde devient malheureusement de plus

en plus injuste, mais notre espoir grandit et nos luttes se croisent. Tunisiens restez debout, le monde est

fier de vous.

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Table of Contents I) A Society in Transition .............................................................................................................................. 5

II) Research questions .................................................................................................................................. 7

III) Tunisia’s changing social environment in perspective .......................................................................... 8

3.1. Social Navigation ................................................................................................................................ 8

3.2. Anti-colonial nationalism ................................................................................................................... 8

3.3. Nationalist dictatorship ...................................................................................................................... 9

3.4. Authoritarian myth of democratic transition .................................................................................. 10

3.5. The Tunisian nation at a crossroads ................................................................................................ 11

IV) Theoretical framework ......................................................................................................................... 13

4.1. Human security and ethnography ................................................................................................... 13

4.2. Youth in ‘waithood’ .......................................................................................................................... 14

4.3. Citizenship and activism in the age of neoliberalism ....................................................................... 15

4.4. Identification, connectedness and cosmopolitan sociability ........................................................... 16

V) Research Methodology .......................................................................................................................... 19

5.1. ‘My average day is at the café’ ........................................................................................................ 19

5.2. Avenue Bourguiba: The meeting point for Tunis’ youth.................................................................. 20

5.3. Tunis’ youth civil society network .................................................................................................... 22

5.4. Anonymity ........................................................................................................................................ 23

5.5. Data collection methods and limitations ......................................................................................... 23

5.6. Reflections on my position in the field ............................................................................................ 24

VI) Graduate unemployment: The failure of the social contract .............................................................. 28

6.1. The Myth of Social Mobility ............................................................................................................. 28

6.2. Les diplômés chômeurs: a concept explored ................................................................................... 30

6.3. ‘A temporary fix’: Work renegotiated .............................................................................................. 31

6.3.1. Call centre work ........................................................................................................................ 31

6.3.2. Voluntary civil service work ...................................................................................................... 33

6.4. Dignity renegotiated ........................................................................................................................ 34

6.4.1. Independence from family renegotiated .................................................................................. 34

6.4.2. Marriage renegotiated .............................................................................................................. 35

6.4.3. Dreams renegotiated ................................................................................................................ 36

6.5. A Revolution of National Dignity? .................................................................................................... 37

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VII) ‘Tunisians are a bit lazy but dreamy’: Post-revolutionary activism .................................................. 41

7.1. Passivity under a dictatorial regime ................................................................................................. 41

7.2. Neoliberal discourse of self-responsibility ....................................................................................... 43

7.3. Activist citizenship ............................................................................................................................ 46

7.3.1. Party demobilization ................................................................................................................. 48

7.3.2. Charity work .............................................................................................................................. 49

7.3.3. Unions as the platform for political activism ............................................................................ 50

7.3.4. Union des Diplomés Chomeurs ................................................................................................. 50

VIII) Post-revolutionary sociability: Between unity and diversity ............................................................ 54

8.1. The historical nation, ideology and democracy ............................................................................... 55

8.2. ‘Divide and conquer’ : lack of communication under the dictatorship ........................................... 57

8.3. From division to unity .................................................................................................................... 59

8.3.1. A youth Revolution? .................................................................................................................. 60

8.3.2. Ideological warfare ................................................................................................................... 61

8.3.3. Class struggle............................................................................................................................. 63

8.3.4. Ahmed the communicator ............................................................................................................ 64

IX) Conclusion: Transition or lost hopes? .................................................................................................. 67

Executive Summary ..................................................................................................................................... 70

Bibliography ................................................................................................................................................ 72

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I) A Society in Transition

‘After the Revolution, we did not obtain work, we did not obtain dignity. It is even worse than before.

What we did obtain is a little bit of freedom.’ – Kais, 33.

The Arab Spring marked a turning point in world history that undermined most analysts’ views on

North African politics and society. It challenged the myth that today’s Arab youth are a ‘lost generation’.

Young Tunisians were at the forefront of the Arab Spring before it transformed into an international

movement. The slogan of the Union des Diplomés Chomeurs (UDC - unemployed graduates’ union)

‘Work, Freedom and National Dignity’ famously became the symbol of an entire Revolution. This

rebellion which brought down the Ben Ali dictatorship sparked many struggles in the 2011-2014 period,

not only in Tunisia but also throughout Africa and the Arab world.

Shortly after the Revolution, unemployed graduates had high expectations of societal change. Instead

of explaining why there is unemployment and whether it has changed since the Revolution, this study

will address how young men experience unemployment in the context of democratic transition. While

the state traditionally employed graduates, the reduction of state spending and the expansion of

university education since the 1980s has in fact led to a 45% graduate unemployment rate in 2009

(Honwana 2013: 25), that many blame on the economic choices made by the state. This provoked the

emergence of an educated group with high expectations, faced with very few jobs and wages that do

not enable them to live with dignity. This paradox must be framed within wider debates on global youth

and neoliberal globalization, which I will address throughout the study.

Since the fall of the Ben Ali regime, young Tunisians ‘are no longer bound by hegemonic political

discourses and ideologies and are creating their own spaces and ways of engaging the state and society’

(Honwana 2011: 20). This study will look into the new forms of activism unemployed graduates engage

in since the Revolution in pursuit of their socioeconomic demands. Many journalistic and social

movements theory studies have focused on the role of cyber-activism in the Tunisian Revolution, and

while this was an important factor for youth mobilization and the pursuit of freedom, my study instead

focuses on the physical field of central Tunis. I will look into the ways unemployed graduates seek to

create a better employment situation for themselves and others and how they practice democracy in

everyday life.

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This study is mainly about men, although female unemployment in Tunisia is much higher in

proportion. Women have gained many legal rights regarding marriage and family life under the secular

dictatorship (Honwana 2013), nonetheless Tunisia is still a very male-dominated society, especially in

the public sphere. Young men experience unemployment more acutely because they are still perceived

as the main breadwinners, who must earn enough to get married and become recognized as adults.

Furthermore, men tend to have more freedom from family constraints to become activists and redefine

their values outside of the family sphere.

Coming from an activist background myself, I was hopeful that many unemployed graduates would be

incessantly fighting for their rights and practicing democracy at the local level by collaborating with

people of different class backgrounds and political beliefs. The reality of the post-dictatorship

environment is much more complex. The Ben Ali era was a period of fierce repression and rapid

economic change. The consequences were two-fold: first, the regime encouraged complacency among

young Tunisians who had very few opportunities but were increasingly responsible for themselves.

Second, the regime prompted strong class divisions and prohibited opposing political discourses,

creating strong divisions up to this day. This study will attempt to understand how unemployed young

men practice their agency within this context of democratic transition and neoliberal reform.

A common perception in periods of democratic transition is that democracy is a state of being that can

be ‘attained’ or ‘reached’. Tunisia is being praised as an example for the Arab world, having adopted a

new democratic constitution in January 2014. This study breaks with such views by showing that

democracy is something highly subjective that is constantly in the making. The Revolution brought to

light the concerns of a whole generation of young Tunisians (Honwana 2013), however they feel that

these have not been addressed in the transition period. Taking the most basic definition of democracy

as ‘the rule of the people’, studies on democracy must focus on what those people want, feel and how

they interact with others at the societal level.

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II) Research questions

Based on the problem statement addressed above, here is my main research question:

How do young educated unemployed male activists in Tunis experience the post-revolutionary social

environment, imagine their futures and reflect on the ‘democratic transition’? How do they actively

engage in civil society organizations and cosmopolitan sociability practices?

By ‘educated’, I exclusively refer to university graduates in this study. The terminology ‘post-

revolutionary social environment’ implies the political and economic situation since the fall of Ben Ali on

January 14th 2011. ‘Democratic transition’ is placed between quotation marks because although it is

being called a democratic transition, there are doubts as to whether Tunisia is in fact transitioning

towards a democracy or something else, as I will explain further. ‘Civil society organizations’ include

unions and NGOs and, to a lesser extent, political parties. Finally, cosmopolitan sociability, defined in my

theoretical framework, refers to communication across generational, ideological and class boundaries,

or in other words, democratic practices independent from the state.

Sub-question 1: What are unemployed graduate male activists' expectations for the future? How do

they experience unemployment in the meantime? How have their expectations and reality changed

since the Revolution?

This sub-question will be addressed in section 6 entitled ‘Graduate unemployment: The failure of the

social contract’. Here, I will look into the rights sought by unemployed graduates and how they must live

because of their economic constraints.

Sub-question 2: How do unemployed graduate men exert their citizenship through civil society

activism since the Revolution? How is their agency limited?

This sub-question will be addressed in section 7 entitled ‘Tunisians are a bit lazy but dreamy’: Post-

revolutionary activism’. Here, I will look into dominant discourses of youth agency and how unemployed

graduates break with them by pursuing their social rights through their civil society activism.

Sub-question 3: How have unemployed graduate male activists opened up to dialogue across

generational, ideological and class boundaries since the Revolution?

This sub-question will be addressed in section 8 entitled ‘Post-revolutionary sociability: Between unity

and diversity’. Here, I will explore the divisions created by the Ben Ali regime, instances of national unity

and how unemployed graduate activists overcome these divisions.

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III) Tunisia’s changing social environment in

perspective

3.1. Social Navigation

Vigh (2009) argues that social scientists often forget to look at the movement of the social

environment itself when considering the way agency operates within it (426). Viewing structure and

agency separately strongly limits social sciences’ ability to address the complexity of social interactions

in the globalized world. In order to discuss Tunisia’s problem of youth unemployment and democratic

change, I must delve into the historical context in which these issues are embedded.

Social navigation requires analysing the way agency occurs in a changing social environment, rather

than looking at agency or structure independently (ibid: 420). The concept of social navigation allows me

to bridge the gap between the Tunisian context of rapid economic and political change since the

Revolution and how unemployed graduate activists adapt and act within it. All throughout this study, I

will implicitly adopt the social navigation perspective to show how unemployed graduates’ agency has

changed between the dictatorship era and the transition period.

Tunisia is a North African state which borders the Mediterranean, Algeria and Libya, with a population

of about 11 million. It is home to ancient Carthage, a republic dating back several thousand years and a

source of pride for some Tunisians today. After long periods of colonial encounters from the Romans, to

the Arabs and finally the Ottomans, France established a protectorate in Tunisia in 1881. In this

historical section, I will look at the evolution of Tunisia’s social environment since the French colonial era

until now (2014), in order to get a sense of young men’s belongings, values, constraints and activist

traditions.

3.2. Anti-colonial nationalism

Although it established an oligarchy dominated by French interests, Tunisia has a strong history of

constitutionalism with the first written Constitution in the Arab world in 1861 (Perkins 2004: 53). The

opening of Tunisian markets to global trade in the late 19th century benefitted elites while impoverishing

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many Tunisians who could not compete with cheaper European products and consequently became

unemployed (ibid: 61).

The growth ofan educated Tunisian elite gave prominence to the nationalist movement during World

War I (ibid). After World War II, the nationalist movement expanded drastically, notably with the

creation of the powerful Union Générale des Travailleurs Tunisiens (UGTT – labour union) in 1946. The

UGTT cultivated a distinctive identity based on the belief that the social and economic liberation of

Tunisian workers required the liberation of the Tunisian state from colonialism (ibid: 112). Like

elsewhere in Africa, trade unions were extremely important civil society organizations in the colonial

era, mobilizing national groups in demand of basic rights (Werbner 2008: 61). Understanding the history

of trade unionism is essential because, in Tunisia today, the UDC is mobilizing nationalist sentiments in

demands of rights for the unemployed.

The nationalist camp was divided into two camps. Ben Yusuf’s gangs of unemployed men called

‘fellagha’ (literally, bandits) represented the pan-Arab / Islamic-oriented section of the nationalist

movement. This movement was marginalized as the secularist, French-educated Bourguiba attained

power at independence in 1956 (Perkins 2004: 124-9). This division between Ben Yusuf’s followers and

Bourguiba’s outlined the tensions which continue to plague Tunisia today: the disparities between the

rich coastal areas and the poorer interior; and the debate over Tunisia’s identity between secularism

and Islamism.

3.3. Nationalist dictatorship

Bourguiba established a repressive regime in which he was the patriarch (ibid: 131). ‘Tunisian-ness’

was invented as a legal construct and a national identity, whereas before there had only been tribal ties

and religion (Sadiki 2002: 500). After independence, the party tightened its control over the increasingly

weak UGTT because Bourguiba opposed its socialist orientations (Perkins 2004: 134). Bourguiba’s Parti

Socialiste Destourien (PSD) became Tunisia’s only official political party between 1964 and 1981.

‘Démocratie à la tunisienne’ was a system in which citizens could endorse the work of the government,

under Bourguiba’s guidance and control, but not set its agenda (ibid: 208).

Nonetheless, major investments were made from 1964 onwards in health and education. Under

Bourguiba, education was the prerequisite for national development (ibid: 208). The free state

education system was expanded, especially to women (ibid: 138). The new education system was

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bilingual with French and Arabic instruction, although Arabic was Tunisia’s official language (ibid: 139).

This led to the rapid growth of university graduates, something that was incompatible with the job

market structure.

Unemployment continued to plague the economy during the Bourguiba era, especially with increasing

migration to urban slums and the arrival of educated women on the job market (ibid: 149-50). Many

Tunisians migrated to Europe and Libya in the 1960s-70s because of a lack of economic opportunities

(ibid: 163). The issue of unemployment has therefore been inherent to Tunisia’s post-independence

model of development. In the context of an Islamist uprising (by the predecessors of Ennahdha) and

widespread government debt, Ben Ali ousted Bourguiba in a rapid coup in 1987.

3.4. Authoritarian myth of democratic transition

Ben Ali continued the same policies of his predecessor in many aspects. School history texts privileged

Bourguiba, linking his name with the abstraction of ‘the Nation’ under Ben Ali (ibid: 205). However, Ben

Ali also reworked Tunisia’s national history, by emphasizing his own accession to power as its new focus

(ibid.). He assured his success by promoting three fundamental myths: the end of authoritarianism, the

economic miracle and secularism (Cavatorta and Haugbolle 2012: 182).

The Ben Ali years ‘were characterized by the rhetoric of democracy and the reality of repression and

co-optation (ibid: 188). Ben Ali had originally supported political pluralism, legalizing several political

parties but omitting major ones such as Ennhada, although his RCD party (remnants of the PSD)

tightened its hold over the limited legal opposition in the 1990s (Perkins 2004: 201). State education had

promoted the notion of democratic citizenship under Bourguiba and even more so under Ben Ali

(Zarlenga 2011: 5). However, political space had been denied to clan identities, religious forms of self-

identification and dissenting political discourses and practices (Sadiki 2002: 508).

Furthermore, the myth of secularism veiled the increasing disconnect between the values of the

French-speaking ruling elites and segments of society that wanted a respect for Arab-Muslim values

(Cavatorta and Haugbolle 2012: 190). The dominant discourse of identity in Tunisia was ‘Sahel-based,

francisant and bourgeois’, leaving little participation for the interior regions, the non-elites and

defenders of Arab-Islamic identity (Sadiki 2002: 511).

Finally, the economic miracle was somewhat limited. In reality, the economy grew disproportionately,

mostly favouring global markets, while ‘underemployment, unemployment, difficult access to the labour

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market, income inequalities and wide regional gaps were the main features’ (Cavatorta and Haugbolle

2012: 184). The authoritarian Ben Ali regime encouraged the state’s commitment to rapid economic

restructuring ‘tirelessly promoted by the IMF and the World Bank’ (Perkins 2004: 197). These structural

adjustment programs weakened African states’ ability to formulate policy and uphold the social contract

with its citizenry, which was further enhanced by corruption and the lack of freedoms (Honwana 2012:

21). The amount of university graduates exploded in the past thirty years, while the Tunisian economy

was directed towards the exportation of low value-added products which required unskilled labour (ibid:

23). This led to a growth of Tunisia’s graduate unemployment rate to 45% or around 360,000 in 2009

according to the World Bank (Honwana 2013: 25).

3.5. The Tunisian nation at a crossroads

Young Tunisians have also been excluded from the political process for many years, leading to a deep

distrust in political parties which carried onto the post-dictatorship era (Collins 2011). Contestation

movements began in January 2008 with the uprisings in the mining region of Gafsa, where

unemployment has been a significant issue (Allal 2012: 821). This culminated in December 2010 when

Mohammed Bouazizi, a frustrated fruit vendor, lit himself on fire in protest of government corruption

and lack of opportunities. His action was the catalyst for the Arab Spring and he became a symbol of

young Arabs’ demands. Ben Ali was ousted in 25 days, replaced two consecutive transition governments

which also collapsed under popular pressure.

Social navigation is ‘to plot, to actualize plotted trajectories and to relate one’s plots and actions to the

constant possibility of change’ (Vigh 2009: 426). Both structure and agency are fluid processes which are

contextual and situational. New opportunities and constraints can emerge as a result of changes in the

social environment. In response to these changes, individuals ‘act, adjust and attune our strategies and

tactics in relation to the way we experience and imagine and anticipate the movement and influence of

social forces’ (ibid: 420).

‘Each day, new expectations are created. Under Ben Ali’s regime, we wanted Ben Ali to leave. After, we

wanted freedom, dignity, work, equality between regions, etc. After , it was the Constitution. There are

new tactics, there are new strategies.’ – Marouen, 29

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First, many young Tunisians sought the fall of the dictatorship. Once freedom of speech was obtained,

they revisited their demands and found less violent tactics to pressure the government. A social

navigation perspective implies that actors seek to fulfil their immediate interests as well as long-term

aspirations. Vigh (2009) contends that our environments and futures are ‘constantly in the process of

coming into being’ (429). In 2011, freedom of association was established: this led to the legalization or

establishment of tens of thousands of NGOs, unions and political parties. Thousands of young graduates

joined these organizations and sought to defend the values of the Revolution. However, the Tunisian

Revolution and resulting democratic elections do not mean that a democratic regime is now

consolidated. In 2011, the Constituent Assembly was elected with a one-year mandate to draw up a

Constitution. Meanwhile, the coalition government, led by the moderate Islamist party Ennahdha,

enacted many controversial laws and faced tough opposition from many unemployed graduates and the

wider population.

The year 2012 was marked by a huge upsurge of terrorism. In July 2013, after the assassination of a

second Marxist parliamentarian by radical Islamists, over a million people went onto the streets

accusing the government of complicity. A process of ‘National Dialogue’ between political parties and

civil society organizations, moderated by the powerful UGTT (workers’ trade union), was initiated. This

context of ideological polarization at the societal level is essential to understand the limitations of

dialogue across ideological boundaries that I address in section VIII.

Negotiations between political parties led to the almost unanimous vote for the Constitution by the

National Assembly, an event I witnessed myself on January 26th 2014. This was a very important

moment for Tunisia, since many believed that the events of July 2013 could have led to civil war. A few

days after the vote, a caretaker government was established as agreed by the ‘National Dialogue’. This

government is mainly composed of technocrats and its mandate will end at the next elections planned

for this year. The post-revolutionary governments, including the current one, have imposed further

austerity measures under pressure from institutions such as the World Bank and International Monetary

Fund, including a freeze on state recruitments in 2014 (Charles 2014).

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IV) Theoretical framework

In this study, I will be analysing three essential topics: youth unemployment or ‘waithood’, activist

citizenship and democratic dialogue or ‘cosmopolitan sociability’. Each topic will be addressed in

sections 4.2, 4.3 and 4.4 respectively.

4.1. Human security and ethnography

The current context of transition in Tunisia relates to what Eriksen (2010) calls ‘insecure sociality’,

which occurs in societies undergoing rapid change. He frames this into allegorical terms by saying that

‘Suddenly, something new happens, and one finds oneself in a setting with no preordained script to be

followed. One is faced with the task of rebuilding the ship at sea.’ (ibid: 12) This study seeks to

understand the current situation and how unemployed graduates and their activist strategies attempt to

‘rebuild the ship at sea’. It is embedded within the broader perspective on human security as outlined by

Caroline Thomas (2000):

‘Human security describes a condition of existence in which basic material needs are met and in which

human dignity, including meaningful participation in the life of the community, can be met. Thus, while

material sufficiency lies at the core of human security, in addition the concept encompasses non-material

dimensions to form a qualitative whole. Human security is oriented towards an active and substantive

notion of democracy, and is directly engaged with discussions of democracy at all levels, from the local to

the global’ (cited in Alkire 2003: 15).

This study is a critical ethnography, engaged in a discussion over graduate unemployment and its

effect on perceptions of democracy in the era of globalization. According to Madison (2012), the ‘critical

ethnographer also takes us beneath surface appearances, disrupts the status quo, and unsettles both

neutrality and taken-for-granted assumptions by bringing to light underlying and obscure operations of

power and control’ (5). This is especially important in a context where the dictatorship penetrated all

aspects of social life and, as one informant put it, ‘we are going through a moment of social change that

we do not understand’. Through research, the critical ethnographer ‘contributes to emancipatory

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knowledge and discourses of social justice’ (ibid.), breaking with myths that have become naturalized

within Tunisian society because of the dictatorship’s legacy.

Ethnography is particularly relevant in the Tunisian context, since it ‘captures people’s lived experience

amid conditions of “political instability” ’ (Greenhouse cited in Paley 2002: 479). It acknowledges that

behaviours may change across time and space (Herbert 2000: 557), therefore it can illustrate how

strategies and expectations changed with the Revolution. Furthermore, ethnography emphasizes how

political developments are felt and influenced by marginal actors such as unemployed graduates, whose

views may otherwise be disregarded if they do not vote.

Each of the following three theoretical sub-sections are addressed in sections VI, VII and VIII

respectively.

4.2. Youth in ‘waithood’

Honwana (2013) gives an account of the important role played by young Tunisians in claiming their

rights during the events of 2010-2011. She argues that unemployed graduates were one of the four

major groups who provoked the downfall of the Ben Ali regime (ibid.). Unemployed graduates

experience ‘waithood’, a period of suspension between childhood and adulthood, where young people

are unable to access basic resources to become independent adults (Honwana 2012: 19-20). They are

incapable of making enough money to get married and start a family; two requirements to gaining social

recognition as adults. She further states that ‘this state of limbo is becoming pervasive and is gradually

replacing conventional adulthood’ (ibid: 19).

Well-paid and secure work has become difficult to encounter worldwide due to neo-liberal economic

reforms (Jeffrey 2009: 182). In African states, ‘structural adjustment programmes’ accentuated

waithood by limiting the provision of public services, such as quality education, that would allow young

people to compete in the labour market and address socio-economic insecurities (Honwana 2012: 21).

These expectations and the mismatch between education and employment mean that today, the more

education one has, the less likely it is that he/she may secure a job (Mulderig 2013: 11).

The notion of waithood represents the contradictions of modernity, in which ‘young people’s

opportunities and expectations are simultaneously broadened and constrained’ (Honwana 2012: 20).

The achievement of a higher degree raised expectations among young Tunisians who are connected to

15

global developments through television, phones and the internet (Honwana 2013: 28). Meanwhile, they

are unable to access employment and, as a result, are also unable to marry and gain social recognition

as adults. In fact, these failures have ‘alienated a number of Arab youth and will have long-term

implications for young people’s sense of dignity and identity’ (Mulderig 2013: 25). In section VI, I will

address the tension between rising expectations and an increasingly challenging reality for my

informants.

4.3. Citizenship and activism in the age of neoliberalism

Marshall (1950) famously formulated that citizenship consists of civil, political and social rights. Civil

rights include freedom of speech and other individual freedoms, while political rights include the right to

vote and the right of association. Social rights, on the other hand, enclose the right to a minimal

participation in national wealth and to a standard of living fitting the national standard (Salman 2004:

856). These rights, acquired through the welfare state, enable the full exercise of the first two and

oppose the lack of opportunities in highly divided societies (ibid.).

Sadiki (2002) argues that under Ben Ali, belonging to the nation was monopolized by the state’s

discourse of ‘citizenship’. In other words, political uniformity was prioritized over democratic citizenship.

While a certain degree of social rights such as free education and health care were implemented in the

1960s, they were limited and deteriorated from the 1970s onwards, while civil and political rights were

absent until 2011.

In the current period of democratic transition, citizenship is promoted by the state and NGOs as a

concept for societal renewal. Assies, Calderon and Salman (2005) argue that neoliberalism is not just an

economic doctrine; it is a cultural project that seeks to eliminate the ‘paternalist’ features of the state,

get rid of social policies and clientelist attitudes and promote citizens’ sense of responsibility (6-7). The

neoliberal project ‘privileges civil rights insofar as they sustain the role assigned to civil society, whereas

it takes a restricted and procedural view of political rights and curtails social ones’ (ibid: 7). Many NGOs

inculcate the idea of political participation, through voting, knowledge of political institutions and

community engagement. In Marshall’s framework, however, political rights cannot fully be exercised

without any social rights.

Anthropologists have studied how the term “democracy” has been used in a multitude of ways; they

have shown that in foreign contexts it “may have alternate meanings than elections and civil liberties”

16

(Paley 2002: 475). Because young Tunisians lack faith in public institutions and political actors, they

attribute little importance to elections. Consequently, we need to consider the ‘achieved dimension’ of

citizenship, based on the achievement of agency through specific practices, rather than the ‘received

dimension of citizenship based on a state-centred vision (Dahlgren cited in Papa and Milioni 2013: 27).

Dahlgren further argues that active participation can be achieved in civil society (ibid.). The

anthropological perspective invites us to explore the social construction of citizenship (Oxhorn 2003

cited in Assies, Calderon and Salman 2005: 9). Rather than paying attention to citizenship from a legal or

formal perspective, it explores how the ‘equality of rights’ is pursued through collective action (ibid.).

Isin (2009) differentiates the ‘active citizen’ from the ‘activist citizen’. He argues that activist

citizenship refers to the way that ‘subjects that are not citizens act as citizens: they constitute

themselves as those with ‘the right to claim rights’’ (371). He suggests that the acts through which

claims are articulated ‘create new sites of contestation, belonging, identification and struggle’ that differ

from traditional sites of citizenship such as voting, social security and military obligation (ibid.). This view

is essential because it shifts the focus from what people say to what people do (ibid.). It is not just about

what people want, but how people obtain it. Under this perspective, ‘acts make a difference’ because

they ‘break routines, understandings and practices’ (ibid: 379).

Unemployed graduate activists in Tunisia come under this definition of ‘activist citizens’. Although they

have few opportunities, ‘youth in waithood are dynamic and use their agency and creativity to invent

new forms of being and interacting with society’ (Honwana 2012: 20). Youth in waithood are ‘sometimes

able to develop a sense of shared identity and group consciousness that leads them to challenge the

establishment and fight for their rights’ (ibid: 24). They are not passive, although they are constrained by

many structural factors, but rather are pursuing their socioeconomic rights and societal transformation

outside of political parties. In section VII, I will explore how unemployed graduates in Tunisia are

convening in civil society organizations to make their demands known and acquire new experiences that

can help them and others

4.4. Identification, connectedness and cosmopolitan sociability

Brubaker and Cooper (2000) argue that groupness, or belonging to a distinctive, bounded, solidary

group is generally possible through commonality, connectedness and the feeling of belonging together

(20). Commonality means sharing a common attribute such membership of the nation. They further

17

argue that connectedness is not necessary to feel belonging; nations are powerfully imagined and

strongly felt communities, but they do not necessarily engender connectedness between its members

(ibid.). However, for this sense of belonging to be inclusive and democratic, there needs to be a strong

sense of connectedness between its members. Togetherness in a nation means citizenship in a

democratic state (Rüsen 2005: 343). Connectedness, or the relational ties that bind people together,

was limited by the divisive dictatorship, although it is essential to establish a democratic nation.

Many young men were able to feel that sense of connectedness during the Revolution and other crises

or within civil society organizations. In a context of democratic transition, connectedness in periods of

crisis helps shape a new sense of collective identity. Rüsen (2005) argues that ‘norms such as equality,

liberty and the whole set of human and civil rights start to play a constitutive role in developing a new

sense of collective identity, in which belonging and togetherness is no longer a matter that has been

decided for the people by history, but is something that they decide for themselves’ (345).

In this theoretical framework, I use the notion of identification, rather than ‘identity’. It is a more

powerful analytical tool, since it emphasizes that creating meaning and belonging are active processes. It

requires us to specify how people classify themselves and are classified by others rather than assuming

their classifications in distinct groups of belonging (Brubaker and Cooper 2000: 14-17). By considering

that individuals can identify ‘with another person, category, or collectivity’ (ibid: 17), the notion of

identification reveals how belonging is created through agency. It does not presuppose that identifying

will necessarily result in the internal sameness that political entrepreneurs may seek to achieve (ibid:

14). In this sense, it acknowledges that people who identify with different groups (generational,

ideological or class-based) are not only bound to those groups, but can also identify with people who

belong to opposing groups.

Instead of addressing nationalism and feelings of national unity, this study is more concerned with

communicative practices that can conciliate different views of the nation and, consequently, contribute

to democratic developments. Cosmopolitan sociability consists of ‘forms of competence and

communication skills that are based on the human capacity to create social relations of inclusiveness

and openness to the world’ (Glick-Schiller et al 2011: 402). It also encompasses the ability to ‘find

aspects of the shared human experience including aspirations for a better world within or despite what

would seem to be divides of culture and belief’ (ibid: 403). This theory has been developed in the field of

migration studies to analyze agency within urban environments, but I will use it to identify instances of

understanding across 1. generational, 2. ideological and 3. class boundaries. Appiah (1998) argues that

18

cosmopolitanism is equally an argument within postcolonial states about citizenship, equal dignity,

cultural rights and the rule of law.

Cosmopolitan sociability supposes that through social relationships and open communication,

commonalities which unite the individuals involved can be emphasized, or at least differences can be

accepted. It also implies that people are ‘active participants in the creation of common places… created

through people’s meetings, encounters, civic communication and coexistence (Glick-Schiller et al 2011:

403). Hefner (2000) argues that civil society organizations play a vital role in establishing democracies

because activism inculcates ‘a political culture emphasizing...trust in one’s fellows, tolerance, and

respect for rule of law’ (ibid: 23). The Tunisian uprising brought together a coalition of forces, first

amongst the youth, then ‘spanning age, gender and ethnicity, socioeconomic, political and religious

ideologies’ (Honwana 2013: 6). Three years after the Revolution, how have unemployed graduate

activists bridged generational, ideological and class boundaries through communication in their civil

society activities? In section VIII, I will address the issue of cosmopolitan sociability by exploring how the

Revolution and the growth of civil society created a sense of connectedness.

.

19

V) Research Methodology

5.1. ‘My average day is at the café’

Most of my informants spent a lot of time at the café and told me it was an essential part of their

lifestyle, just like it became part of mine. Usually, I would wake up at 10:00 and go for coffee and

breakfast alone in my neighbourhood. The cafés in Bab el-Djazira, a working-class neighbourhood, are

almost exclusively filled with men sipping their black coffee while street vendors fill the streets. In the

afternoon, I would meet unemployed activists in central Tunis. Unlike me, they mostly live outside the

city centre and had to take public transport every day to come to the centre, the meeting point for

Tunis’ youth.

On a typical sunny February afternoon, Hamed, 35, finally arrived at our meeting point on Avenue

Bourguiba after I waited an hour. He has been unemployed for a few months, after a stint of temporary

work. When unemployed, he sleeps and wakes up late and is therefore difficult to reach before 13:00.

He apologized and consulted me about what I want to do today.

- What is there to do? Any public events? I asked.

- Well, it’s too cold for the beach, the cheap cinema only operates on Friday and there are no public

concerts. There is nothing to do here. Let’s go the café.

We went off to one of the cafés I often attended and sat outside in the sun. In Tunis, unemployed

graduates are highly visible in public space because they often spend the day on café terrasses. While in

a European city we could have gone to someone’s apartment or a park, in Tunis this was difficult. Many

of my informants wanted to leave their home during the day, to avoid pressure from their parents and

instead socialize with their friends.

‘This lifestyle is a rhythm that you can live for one or two months, then it becomes unbearable.

Unemployment is a state of moral and mental destruction.’ - Hamed

This quote explained how he and many others felt about their situation. We spent all afternoon in that

café as many activist friends, mostly men, come and go. While university life had been very time-

consuming (35-40 hours of classes per week), graduate unemployment was very uneventful for these

young men. Hamed and the others did not just sit there complacently though. In fact, they were

20

discussing many political, social, cultural and economic issues and sharing their views with me. They

were discussing activist strategies and tactics to change the sociopolitical situation and, in the process,

producing new demands and new solutions. The street, including cafés, has become the location where

‘alternative lifestyles and modes of thought and action falling outside of the family and the state’ are

played out (Murphy 2012: 11).

In the café, a strong sense of community also built up. By spending the day there, Hamed is in constant

interaction with other people who share a similar lifestyle, dreams and frustrations as he does. Because

Hamed could not afford a coffee on this day, he did not order anything. I offered to pay to which he

replied:

- You are the guest here. I cannot accept that you pay for me. Where is the dignity if you cannot be a

host?

When our other unemployed friends arrived, they bought him a coffee that he gladly accepted. We

each took turns to buy 3 or 4 cigarettes from the street vendor and would share them with everyone

else. Sharing this sense of camaraderie as well as many political beliefs and values allowed me to pass

from an outsider to an insider. Discussing everyday life and sharing a lifestyle with friends as equals,

allowed me to break down the barrier between observant and interviewer, friend and researcher,

outsider and insider (Stone Sunstein and Chiseri-Strater 2007). Informal interactions like these taught

me more about their frustrations and dreams than any interview could. By doing the same things as

them on an everyday basis, I realized that there was not much for them to do and gained awareness of

the structural limitations to the realization of their dreams.

5.2. Avenue Bourguiba: The meeting point for Tunis’ youth

The focus of my research is the greater Tunis area for my research, because it is Tunisia’s economic,

cultural and political centre. Central Tunis, concentrated around its main artery Avenue Habib

Bourguiba, is the meeting point for Tunis’ activists and youth, especially from the lower and upper

middle classes. While Tunisian society has strong class inequalities and the city is separated into

different neighbourhoods for different social classes, the centre is where any spatial barriers break

down, although different activist groups usually attend different cafés.

21

Avenue Bourguiba and the many one-way roads that stem from it form the Villeneuve, the central area

of colonial Tunisia. The buildings of French architecture host cafés, clothes stores, food venues, offices

and residential apartments. At the Western end of the avenue lays the Medina, the largest and oldest

Arab neighbourhood in Africa. On the east side, is an intersection between Tunisia’s main motorway and

the Lac de Tunis, which leads on to the port and the wealthier residential areas such as Carthage.

The Avenue itself is the most important key to understanding the dynamics of Tunisian youth and its

civil society. It was the central point of the January 14th protests that led to Ben Ali’s fall and the 2013

protests that began the process of ‘National Dialogue’. It is a very wide avenue with walking space and

trees in the middle. On each side, there are many cafés with seats and tables set up outside. The parts of

the avenue with the Ministry of the Interior, at the east, and the French embassy, on the west side, are

cut off by barbed wire since the Revolution. There are policemen with machine guns in front of both

buildings and in the middle of the avenue. The daytimes were overwhelmingly busy, while at night, the

city centre becomes silent. The bustling noise of cars, fast foods and shops turned into silence, except

for the occasional scream from drunken men in the streets.

Meanwhile, many political and social activities and ideas are taking shape in the cafés surrounding this

avenue. There were 6 or 7 nearby cafés that I predominantly attended because my informants were

there. Each of the cafés hosted different groups of activists and had different price ranges although the

service was similar everywhere. There were cafés for artists, sympathizers of different political parties,

upper middle-class youth, poor young men, and more; although each individual did not exclusively

attend one type of café. I also went to protests, museums, malls, conferences, food shops and walked

around the streets with unemployed graduates in my 3-month stay between January and March 2014.

Figure 1: Avenue Bourguiba on

a busy day (photo taken from

the internet)

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5.3. Tunis’ youth civil society network

I became part of a new network of young activists based around central Tunis. I made friends with

around 65 members of international NGOs, local charities, political parties and unions. I met other

activists with no organizational affiliation, including cyber-activists, journalists and others who were

curious about civil society activities. I also learned a lot from conversations with students, bus drivers,

taxi drivers, café employees, merchants, in addition to many casual encounters I had with people in the

streets, in bars, in cafés and in public transport.

I first gained access to young activists through youth NGOs I contacted on Facebook. In the first month

I had only met students and wage-earners. Meeting people proved to be a very simple task in Tunisia: it

was just a sort of snowball effect. Through my original contacts, I eventually met unemployed graduate

activists in my second month. In the third month, I was able to collect data more freely by simply

‘hanging out’, whereas before I always sought appointments where I could ask specific questions.

These unemployed graduates are members or sympathize with international NGOs, unions, local

charities and/or, to a lesser extent, political parties. Some of them became activists before the

Revolution; others began when freedom from state repression was attained. Those who began before

the Revolution were almost all loosely affiliated or members of Marxist parties. All those I met are

involved in secular civil society organizations, while I met few people from Islamist organizations.

I met 26 unemployed graduate activists, ages 23 to 37, who were mostly men (22 out of 26). I realized

that men were chattier and more available to discuss with me. At first, I had failed to reflect upon the

strong absence of women amongst this specific category of unemployed graduate activists. Was it

because they spent more time at home? Many women shared that their parents put a lot of pressure on

them not to stay out too long. Or was it because women are much more absent from public speaking,

especially among leftist political activists (Ben Salem 2013: 147-8)? This remains an open-ended

question in my research.

They studied all kinds of subjects at university (from computing to philosophy and management). They

were from working-class or middle-class families and their parents generally had not attended university

(except for a select few). Since, they alternated between unemployment and underemployment. For

reasons explicated in section 6.2, I will refer to them as unemployed graduates.

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5.4. Anonymity

The young people I met mostly belonged to a loose network of activists based in the Greater Tunis

area. Their fates are somewhat intertwined, considering that most people I knew were acquainted with

other activists I knew from other groups. While some people stated their names openly for the sake of

my study, I have decided to transform them into fictional ones. In section 8.3.4, however, I discuss the

story of my friend Ahmed. Since there was no way to write the story of this public figure without making

his identity evident, I use his real name. I sent him the text I wrote beforehand and obtained his

approval.

When I state the name and age of the informant in the study, I am referring to unemployed graduate

activists. I will not include any information of our encounters, such as the date, nor will I give the names

of the organizations they work with. By doing so, I can protect their identities in the case where there is

a crackdown on activists and information is sought. Just recently (early May 2014), an activist I met by

the name of Azyz Amami was arrested on marijuana charges in what is believed by many to be a political

arrest.

5.5. Data collection methods and limitations

There were obvious limitations to my ability to conduct research in Tunisia. We discussed in French, a

language that they learned through their education and often used in civil society work or call centre

jobs. I did not speak any Tunisian dialect, making it difficult for me to understand the interactions

between people. I relied mainly on my own interactions with unemployed graduates and observable

phenomena that did not require my understanding Tunisian Arabic. Some of my Tunisian friends did not

fully master the French language. Others had very rich French vocabulary, but I could sense that their

thought process and the flow of conversation were not as smooth as when they spoke Arabic. Luckily for

me, my informants were very keen to discuss their situation and the political situation, so they took

their time to share a lot with me.

In the first two months, I was adamant on seeing activists in action, but there was either little going on

or they failed to mention that there was an event that could interest me. Furthermore, it was very

difficult to follow-up after meeting someone and getting them to stick to our rendezvous and arrive on

time. Because of this, I was also unable to conduct focus groups in a quiet setting and I could not

24

schedule interviews ahead of time. Through my own experience, I understood that field research

required a lot of flexibility.

In the final month, I conducted 17 semi-structured interviews with activists, 11 of whom were

unemployed, 3 who were students and 3 who were ex-unemployed graduates. This structure allowed

me and my informants ‘to introduce materials and questions previously unanticipated’ (Whyte cited in

O’Reilly 2005: 118). My first interviews were tainted by my inability to probe informants when they

introduced new data. I was too adamant on following my pre-planned research questions (see

Appendix) and felt uncomfortable asking people I did not know well very personal questions. Later

interviews were much longer and more free-flowing, especially with those who had experience in

communication, often acquired through civil society activism. Those who were extremely frustrated

with their current situation were also very open to talking about with me.

Participant observation compensated for the poor quality of my interviews. I much preferred casual

encounters; they felt more natural, more satisfying, and more purposeful, plus they gave me the chance

to get to really know my informants. Interviews felt too formal and it took me quite a few tries to

understand the deficiencies of my previous attempts at asking questions.

Nonetheless, the 17 interviews I conducted were often useful to complement the data obtained

through participant observation. They shed light upon their life stories, the way they interpret and

(re)construct their social world, and how they place themselves in it (Hermanowicz 2002: 480). In

accordance with the social navigation perspective, I always asked what their answer to key questions

about values, beliefs and dreams would have been before the Revolution. In the process, they revealed

the changes this moment caused in their lives and in society, situating the setting in which I could place

the rest of my findings.

5.6. Reflections on my position in the field

Anthropology was a given choice for me considering my own multicultural background. My own

personal experiences from the United States, Europe, Latin America and Iran provided compelling points

of comparison that proved valuable to my research. Nonetheless, the reflexive task becomes quite

daunting when you feel at ease in the field. In fact, I rarely reflected upon my own position in the field

because I felt that I had become one of them. I shared several mutual friends with almost every new

informant I would meet in the second month. Furthermore, I am also a young male activist and graduate

25

with strong left-wing ideals. I felt that although I experienced fewer limitations to my dreams than they

did, we shared very similar expectations, frustrations and values. One key informant constantly often

called me ‘unemployed student’, ‘French-speaking Tunisian or ‘international comrade’. By sharing past

stories of my own activism in Europe and showing my support for unemployed graduates’ cause,

speaking out at conferences, protests and cafés, many people started to trust me and opened up their

lives to me.

The practice of imitation in the field is a very powerful experience. You become more and more like

the people you live with as time goes on. Many people thought I was a local and that I was just a French-

speaking Tunisian. In listening to my interviews, I could sense hints of a Tunisian accent when I spoke

French. Many people were impressed when I would do the bise, a greeting with kisses that is meant for

male friends. It reflected the friendship I felt for them as well as my desire to be like them, or rather

what I feel is my natural inclination to assimilate. They also enjoyed my use of basic Tunisian expressions

and words, because it showed my respect for a culture that they are very proud of. My informants were

often touched by this respect and included me further in their activities and debates so that I could

understand it, instead of speaking Arabic amongst each other.

Because of their hospitality in sharing their lives with me, my informants enable the emergence of a

shared cosmopolitan dialogue (Werbner 2008: 25). The Tunisian practice of hospitality was omnipresent

during my stay and made me feel very comfortable. Tunisians always use the word marhabi or

‘welcome’ when you meet them, and that is exactly how I felt when I was with them. I sensed that

everybody was eager to share their stories and information about their country now that they have

Figure 2 : Me at a Union des

Diplômés Chômeurs protest.

My presence and support was

welcomed (photo taken by a

friend / informant)

26

gained freedom of speech. Most young people suggested that freedom of speech was the only gain of

the Revolution, while everything else had either stayed the same or gotten worse. Perhaps they were

embracing this single victory by taking advantage of my presence there, as a sort of ambassador for

Tunisia in training who could communicate what was happening to the outside.

27

28

VI) Graduate unemployment: The failure of the

social contract

‘As long as I have nothing between my hands, promises are just words’ – Tunisian proverb

During the Ben Ali era, the idea of the ‘middle class’ was omnipresent in political discourse as a source

of self-legitimation and supposedly represented 80% of the population (Gherib 2011: 420). Although

they had attended university and were sometimes from lower middle-class families, the unemployed

men I met did not live a middle-class lifestyle. Instead, their everyday lives were characterized by

poverty, marginalization and frustration. At the same time, attending university and experiencing the

Revolution gave them high expectations for the future. In this chapter, I argue that they are frustrated

by the lack of social mobility and their consequent inability to fulfill their dreams and expectations. They

feel that there is a strong gap between their capabilities and what they do in reality.

I argue that in the absence of dignity and the ability to build their future, they have to renegotiate

their social practices. They resort to jobs that do not allow for stability and dignity. They felt that the

Revolution would change this situation and that the state would address their priorities, but they now

feel that the situation is worse than before.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

6.1. The Myth of Social Mobility

Going to university seemed to be an obvious choice for my informants. The Ben Ali regime sustained

that obtaining a diploma would allow them to reach financial stability and integrate the middle class.

‘Obtaining a diploma is about social recognition. We thought that studying would allow for upward

social mobility’, one graduate shared. Under the dictatorship, the social contract was based on a

promise of upward mobility for those who obtained university diplomas (Gherib 2014: 22). Several

graduates informed me that their education entitled them to a job in the public sector. An educated

workforce soon emerged in Tunisia, but had very little actual opportunities on the job market with the

state recruiting less because of budget cuts.

29

Most of my informants’ parents worked in the public sector themselves but had not gone to university.

They invested in their children’s education by paying their everyday expenses and university registration

instead of expecting them to find a job. They often pressured their children to choose scientific subjects

or business studies over arts and humanities, to maximize their job opportunities. Many young men

chose to study computing or management because there was high demand in those sectors in the early

2000s, however my they informed me that even those fields have become saturated.

Many young Tunisians expressed their frustration that the state expanded university education to

more students while disregarding the quality of their education. The UDC argues that this enabled

Tunisia to raise its Human Development Index and obtain preferential loans that were often siphoned

off by the corrupt regime. Many suggested that they had too many subjects and hours of class, that

classes had too many students, and that they just took notes instead of being engaged to think critically.

Comaroff and Comaroff (2000) argue that the ethics of neoliberalism rests on the belief that it is

possible to produce wealth almost by magic (cited in Hilgers 2010: 353). Activists often felt that the

former regime sustained this myth. However, as a former unemployed graduate emphasized, there is a

lack of equal opportunities, mainly in education, knowledge, employment and access to credits for

young Tunisians. A student activist working on youth unemployment shared that graduate opportunities

are very dependent on family backgrounds. While his family could support him financially beyond his

studies and provide contacts for him if he wanted to establish a project or find a job, most graduates did

not have that privilege. Graduates often have to pay for special training schools where they can enhance

their professional skills, because the education system is, according to many informants, ‘too

theoretical’.

Many graduates expressed their frustration that today public sector employment is only accessible by

paying corrupt officials to pass entrance exams. In fact, the growth of crony capitalism under Ben Ali

questioned the meritocratic values associated with the middle class that the regime promoted (Gherib

2011: 429). The private sector grew, but only provided low-skilled jobs that were unsuited to young

Tunisians’ expectations. This mismatch between expectations and opportunities is essential to

understanding how young men conceptualize graduate unemployment.

30

6.2. Les diplômés chômeurs: a concept explored

The phenomena of graduate unemployment and underemployment have one single translation in

French: diplomé chômeur. Underemployment can be defined as dependence on involuntary part-time

work, intermittent unemployment, and/or involvement in poorly remunerated labour (Jeffrey 2008:

740). Graduates tend to consider themselves unemployed either when they do not work in the field of

their university studies or when they do not have dignified work that is paid enough for them to live a

fulfilling life. Considering there are few government benefits, full-time employment is the only way to

obtain a regular income.

In 2011, the transition government implemented the ‘Programme Amal, a 250 dinars (110 euros) /

month benefit that unemployed graduates between 28 and 40 can benefit from for one year while they

seek further training and actively seek a job. The programme reportedly benefitted much fewer people

than originally promised and was reduced to 150 or 200 dinars depending on the case (African Manager

2012). An economic journalist told me that this was just a populist policy to appease tensions, but did

not do anything to address employment policy on the long-term. Because of the lack of long-term

measures, young Tunisians are forced to renegotiate their expectations and take on temporary jobs.

‘I consider myself unemployed because I never considered work in call centres to be stable or that it can

satisfy one’s needs. It’s not a long-term job, it’s not a job for the future, you cannot count on this job to

start a family or get a house because at one point you need to leave it to rest because it is unbearable.’ –

Aziz, 30.

Most of the people I met had been in a state of underemployment for periods ranging from one to 15

years. I heard criticisms from several Tunisians that many young men want to strike rich but do not work

to actually get there. In reality, my informants do work although it is periodical. They resort to part-time

or underpaid jobs with difficult work conditions in order to cover their daily expenses. The rest of their

time is spent unemployed, sometimes focused on civil society activities. Their frustration with this state

of uncertainty is definitely not confined to Tunisia. I have heard so many complaints from friends in

Europe obliged to take on temporary jobs that do not match their expectations in order to survive. For

my informants in Tunisia, these jobs include but are not limited to: waiter, construction worker, taxi

driver, newspaper deliverer and factory worker.

31

Being underemployed or diplomé chômeur is a sort of paradox. It is a situation of ‘relative frustration’

for young graduates and is the symptom of the failure of Tunisia’s social contract between the older

generation and young people. On one hand, they are graduates with high expectations for their future.

Most of the graduates I met expected full-time employment in the public sector to live with dignity, like

their parents did. On the other hand, young graduates must now compete for the few jobs that are

available and go through a long-term state of unemployment, with ‘temporary fixes’ (contractual work)

along the way.

6.3. ‘A temporary fix’: Work renegotiated

Abdel, 24, shared that he had just returned from the army but refused to declare himself unemployed.

His friend, also unemployed, picked fun at him stating that he was definitely unemployed considering his

lack of revenue and current idleness. Abdel responded with great pride that he would attempt the

recruitment exam to be an officer in the military.

- I want to be a nail in the wall, he said.

- A nail in the wall? I asked.

- Yes, I want to get my fixed salary of 600D and have a stable job.

Most of my informants wanted stability so that they could achieve a sense of dignity. Instead, they had

to resort to temporary jobs that did not ensure any sort of stability. The following examples of

underemployment; call centre jobs and the voluntary civil service, illustrate the gap between their

hopes and reality.

6.3.1. Call centre work

Call centre jobs are the most accessible private sector jobs for graduates, especially those who studied

Arts and Humanities. Most of the unemployed graduates I met had at least one experience working in a

call centre. Some call centres hire students, although most require that candidates obtain a degree and

be proficient in French. One young woman, desperate for work, took French lessons to be proficient

enough to work in a call centre. The young men who had worked in call centres for at least a year were

extremely proficient in French.

Call centre jobs used to be well-paid according to Tunisian standards. A call centre employee told me

that tax exemptions for international call centre conglomerates led them to propose high salaries, but

32

that the shortage of work in Tunisia allows call centres to offer very low salaries to desperate young

graduates. Karim, 23, voiced that although the state does not consider him as unemployed, he does, not

only because he can get fired at any moment and does not work in his field of study. He pointed out that

he makes 535 dinars each month (230 euros). He believes that it is unjust that he works five 9-hour days

and spends several hours each day on public transport for such a low salary. For this reason, he cannot

accept the situation and is pursuing social and economic change in Tunisia through his civil society

activism. He has very little time to pursue other ventures, yet he remains a left-wing activist, member of

an NGO and a unionist because of his own frustrations.

The work conditions in call centres are very difficult to bear for these young graduates. Call centres

exploit young Tunisians because they are aware that these are the only available jobs to them (Honwana

2013: 61). Sometimes they even fail to pay employees. Rached, 35, informed me that he has worked in

call centres for five of the past ten years although he would like to work for an NGO. This work is

periodical: He works for a few months at a time, before taking a break of several months because it is

unbearable. It can be very stressful speaking to 200 people a day on the phone, but they have to stay

polite even if customers are rude.

Many unemployed graduates take on call centre jobs out of absolute economic necessity. Karim and

Rached migrated alone to Tunis and, as a result, must find a way to pursue their livelihood. Living in the

capital is simultaneously exciting and unbearable for them. The pressure is even more intense for first-

born sons, who have an obligation to provide for their parents. Many others, however, still live with

their parents and can survive without relying on such jobs.

Call centre work, although difficult, is essential in guaranteeing the survival of many young men. The

pay is not enough, however, to enable someone to build a family and rent out a home, especially in

Tunis. Consequently, such jobs enable livelihood but their lifestyles do not correspond to their desire to

live an independent and dignified life. They are increasingly frustrated because their situation is getting

more difficult. Standing (2011) argues that once a person takes on a casual job, the probability of

upward social mobility or of gaining a ‘decent’ income is permanently reduced. He further states that

‘taking a casual job may be a necessity for many, but it is unlikely to promote social mobility’ (ibid: 15).

Nevertheless, some contractual jobs provide valuable training for future employment.

33

6.3.2. Voluntary civil service work

To address the problem of unemployment, the state provides contractual jobs for graduates in the

voluntary sector. Under Ben Ali, the state established a one-year programme paying unemployed

graduates to work 24-hours per week in state-funded charities. Seeking work, they go to the job centre,

who arranges for the graduate to report to the charity and work for a 200D (90 euros) / month salary. I

met five young graduates under this contract during my time in Tunis, who shared that the pay is

insufficient for them to have dignity, but that they are gaining valuable experience and new skills that

can help them find future employment.

On a sunny Monday morning, Zinedine took me to the office of his charity organization in the greater

Tunis area. The graduate volunteers were supposed to show up at 9 AM to work until 1 PM. Zinedine

seemed quite frustrated with the fact that they were late. ‘This is not the first time’, he sighed.

Meanwhile, he showed me the activities they had organized in the past. Finally, they arrived and I

presented myself. Zinedine suggested that I could interview them one by one. ‘Marhabi’ (welcome) they

said, while readily accepting that I interview them.

Hassan, 25, comes from an extremely poor background and lives with his parents. He suffers from a

disability which causes him to slur when he speaks, often rendering him inaudible. He studied

computing and his colleagues told me that he is very talented at making websites.

While his volunteer work is gratifying for the time being, Hassan is very disillusioned with the course of

things in Tunisia. He was quite nostalgic of the Ben Ali era and showed his frustration at the Ennahdha

government that he voted for.

‘Before the Revolution , it was easier to look for work, especially for the handicapped. There were

advantages to the situation of handicap to find work because companies had quotas. Now we are like

others.’ - Hassan

His dream is to lead what he calls a ‘classical’ life: he would like to marry and have children, but for that

he needs to find work. He did not feel that he had a responsibility towards others in society but only to

himself. Zinedine explained that this was because he faced so much adversity because of poverty and his

handicap. Hassan constantly repeated this need to find work and his frustration with not being able to.

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Through this job, Hassan hoped to be much more active. He hoped that the organization would allow

him to improve his computing skills and participate in many training sessions. ‘I was very stressed

staying at home every day. I was very active during my studies, then doing nothing was very tiring

mentally.’ This job is, according to him, a ‘temporary fix’ for his situation of unemployment. He is

actively looking for new jobs, while training others and learning new skills himself. His boss shared that

he is very hard-working and constantly looks for work but that opportunities are slim, especially for

people with disabilities. His long-term objective is to achieve a sense of dignity, which he feels he can

only achieve with stable employment.

6.4. Dignity renegotiated

Human dignity is one of the fundamental teachings in Islam, originating in the Prophet Mohammed’s

struggle against socioeconomic injustice. Dignity is a value my informants constantly referred to as

something worth pursuing for themselves and others. Abderrahmen, 27, defined dignity in a way that

corresponds to what many young Tunisians feel:

Dignity means ‘having a job that offers enough money (1) to be independent from my family, (2) to able

to choose the woman I love and one day get married, (3)to express my hopes, my dreams.’

In other words, dignity is about having enough financial independence to make free decisions about

what lifestyle they wish to have. I will now explore each of these three aspects and how my informants

act in the absence of dignity.

6.4.1. Independence from family renegotiated

Unemployed graduates want to assert their independence but are often financially dependent on their

families. My informants felt that their parents were very involved in their lives and were sometimes too

critical. Many young men shared their frustrations with the fact that their parents misunderstand them

and their views, especially as activists. Some parents threatened to cut off their sons financially if they

became activists under Ben Ali. They often fail to understand their sons’ concerns because their financial

situation was more stable than their children’s. Almost all of the graduates’ parents worked in the public

sector and had guaranteed jobs for life.

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Many graduates I met are now financially independent, although families still provide a minimum of

support with shelter and food. In many families this support only lasts a certain amount of years, after

which the young men must move out and find their own way. This is especially the case in poorer

families or in families with several unemployed children (some families have up to seven unemployed

children), who cannot bear these extra costs.

Everyday life is financially challenging for the unemployed men I met. Many of them do not eat

anything all day, waiting to get home at night to finally have a meal. Since the Revolution, inflation has

risen drastically, especially for food supplies. Many basic subsidies have been cut as a result of the

state’s recent austerity policies. Chokri, 34 and unemployed, constantly shared his frustration at the

strong rise in inflation since 2011.

‘Tomato sauce has gotten so expensive. But this is the basis of any Tunisian family’s daily meals. I cannot

afford to cook anymore. Yoghurts and junk food keep me going.’

My unemployed friends often prioritized buying cigarettes and coffee over food, with the little money

they had. Thankfully, there is a lot of camaraderie between young Tunisians, especially amongst

unemployed men. Yet some of them only eat when a friend who has a job or gets money from their

parents buys them something. I felt uncomfortable with this thought: I could not stand spending a

whole day without eating, so how could they?

6.4.2. Marriage renegotiated

Young Tunisian men are unable to fulfill their traditional societal obligations if they do not have

enough money. Like in many other Muslim countries, Tunisian men must pay for a large wedding

celebration, a home and provide for everyday expenses if they want to marry and live with the woman

they love. Kais, 33, shared that his wedding is pending because he needs 20,000 dinars for it (8,700

euros). Until then, he must live with his parents where he shares a small room with his older brother.

In the Arab world, marriage is not only a contract between two individuals; it is a social contract with

society that those individuals will build a family unit and contribute to the next generation (Mulderig

2013: 15). Some unemployed graduates are urged by their parents to get married and have children,

especially when they get older. Sofiane, 36, has alternated temporary stints of employment and

unemployment. Like many others, he moved to Tunis to study with the hope of later finding a stable job.

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His family expects him to start a family soon and get a house. They often question him on his current

lifestyle: ‘why don’t you work? Why don’t you marry? Why do you drink all the time?’ He agrees with

their viewpoint and wants those things, but senses that they have a hard time relating to his situation.

Marriage, is also viewed as a sign of respect by some young men. Kais proclaimed that ‘you must

marry a woman if you respect her.’ His girlfriend wants to marry him, but if he did not respect her, he

said he could continue being in a relationship and have sex without marrying her. Abderrahmen differed

with this view. ‘I have nothing to offer (inability to afford marriage) so I don’t want a girlfriend.’ Instead,

he is content with having casual relationships for the time being.

Many of the unemployed men I met have girlfriends. Unlike in more conservative areas, being

unmarried in Tunis does not necessarily mean that they cannot have sexual relations. It just limits their

ability to gain societal recognition for their relationship through marriage. Consequently, not all young

Tunisians or unemployed graduates express the desire to get married. For women, it is a means to

become independent from their parents, however men can generally move out, although they often

cannot afford it. For young men, affording marriage is a way of being recognized as adults as well as

expressing their love.

6.4.3. Dreams renegotiated

Unemployed graduates have had to change their dreams of travelling and starting a family because of

their financial situation. However, the Revolution and civil society activism also inspired new dreams to

emerge.

I heard many stories of young Tunisians migrating to Europe since the Revolution in pursuit of a better

future. In fact, several of my informants asked me for information on the procedures they must go

through to study in Europe. Djihed, 28, discussed migration with me one day. He felt that people take

this risk because they believe that Europe is paradise, like it seems on TV, but are unaware of the

challenges that migrants face when they get there. Through his blog, he wants to communicate

experiences of Tunisian migrants and spread awareness so that people do not pursue such ventures

blindly. He would like to travel to Europe for holidays, out of curiosity, but feels that real patriots must

stay in Tunisia for things to change.

37

For some young Tunisians, having dignity in the form of a job, travelling, a home and a family is a

dream, considering it is far from being their reality. After the Revolution, they were made aware that a

new lifestyle was possible and, as a consequence, many have new hopes for their futures. Many

unemployed graduates I met explained that before the Revolution they dreamt of a traditional lifestyle:

having a good job, a family and being able to travel sometimes. By joining civil society organizations,

however, a whole new set of dreams emerged.

Unemployed graduates are no longer content with the jobs available to them. With the growth of civil

society after the Revolution, they want jobs that simultaneously allow them to have dignity and work for

society. The young men I met are extremely frustrated with the individualist culture that took shape

during the Ben Ali regime and feel that breaking with these practices is the only way of achieving social

change. They are motivated by a strong sense of national pride and the desire to be leaders that care

about others and not just themselves.

Many young men said that they want to find a job in a good NGO, a few wanted to become president,

and some became or want to become journalists. They feel that these jobs are valuable to society and

are their best shot at enabling social change. Whereas some mentioned that you had to join the ruling

party to be guaranteed a good job before the Revolution, having these jobs is now possible because

society has become freer. Their personal expectations for employment were not the only ones that

changed with the Revolution though; they also expected society as a whole to change.

6.5. A Revolution of National Dignity?

Shortly after the Revolution, expectations were extremely high for many of my informants. They

expected radical change to sweep their country and provide better living conditions to all Tunisians. The

demands of freedom, work and dignity had united people of all different backgrounds. There was free

speech and people could express their opinions freely. Emotions were high in the revolutionary period:

‘We could finally breath’, Sofiane, 36, proclaimed with a strong sense of relief, after having faced

repression as an activist for over ten years.

The Revolution was a moment of great national pride for young Tunisians because the world was

looking on as Tunisia overthrew its government and sparked an uprising throughout the whole Middle

East and North Africa region. While Tunisians are usually looking at foreign countries expecting change,

it was the opposite here. All eyes were set upon Tunisia, as was the case during the 2011 elections, the

38

2013 World Social Forum and the 2014 vote of the Constitution. Tunisia was hailed internationally as an

example for other Arab states.

Many of my informants were disillusioned that the Revolution did not lead to a major change in

Tunisia’s socioeconomic and political model. They at least thought that the Ben Ali clan’s privatized

assets would be seized, but that did not happen. They thought that there would be more jobs as the

elected government had promised, but that did not happen either.

‘We had the celebration of the 7th of November, now we have the 14th of January’ – Houssem, 24.

This quote is highly symbolic of the sentiment of many young Tunisians. The 7th of November 1987 was

the date of Ben Ali’s coup, celebrated yearly as part of the regime’s propaganda. Many of my informants

feel that the Ennahdha-led government was even worse than the former one because they allowed the

growth of Salafist terrorism and repressed young people’s cultural freedoms. They view politicians as

unrepresentative and corrupt, and are upset that the formerly repressed Ennahdha reproduced the

bureaucratic regime of the Ben Ali regime.

In fact, young people from all social classes and ideologies are very disillusioned with liberal

democracy. Skander, 25, argued that youth is simply viewed as a propositional force or a motor for

social change but is not included in decision-making processes. Like in Eastern Europe, citizens are

critical of the process of transition and state institutions and officials, in spite of their perception of

increased freedom (Rose-Ackerman 2001: 419). They would like to have an independent state that

formulates policies that favour the Tunisian people.

On the anniversary of Tunisia’s independence (20th of March), I went to the city centre with several

unemployed graduates. I was surprised only to see Ennahdha supporters with their party’s flag at the

festivities.

- Why is nobody else celebrating independence? I asked.

- Because Ennahdha are the only ones who consider we are independent. Moez, 27.

‘National dignity’ is a recurring slogan in many protests and was a key slogan of the revolutionary

uprising. A member of the UDC shared his view on this concept, which for him was essential to achieve

to fulfill individual dignity for all Tunisians.

39

‘National dignity is the freedom to build our own country, our economy, our politics, our culture, our

democracy, in the same way that many other countries do. We have witnessed that Tunisia is

undignified, corrupt, sick. All the foreign investors and international institutions give their lessons and

Tunisia follows.’

In April 2012, many young people across the country protested demanding employment opportunities

(El-Khawas 2012: 22). The Ennahdha-led government responded that protests gave a bad image and

consequently discouraged the flow of foreign capital into the country, making it difficult to resolve the

issue of unemployment (ibid.). The young graduates I met at this protest were very frustrated with such

discourses, implying that the state is prioritizing foreign interests over Tunisians’.

Most young activists I met also feel that foreign influence impedes Tunisia from realizing its full

potential. Some unemployed graduates have participated in Magaloul’nech, a movement opposed to

structural adjustment reforms encouraged by the IMF and the state’s reimbursement of ‘odious debt’

contracted by the corrupt Ben Ali regime. Furthermore, a lot of anger was expressed by activists

towards the current technocratic government for being one that caters to multinationals and foreign

governments’ interests. Recently, the IMF has encouraged Tunisia to cut back on subsidies to gas and

electricity (Lobe 2014). The groundskeeper of my building, an underemployed graduate, shared that any

extra energy the inhabitants consumed would have to come out of his pocket. He blamed the Tunisian

government for ‘treating Europeans like Gods’ while abandoning most Tunisians.

Figure 3: The basket is a traditional Tunisian

shopping basket. On it, it says ‘Vegetables have

become like fire’. This is in reference to a Tunisian

expression that says ‘life has become like fire’

meaning that it has become difficult. What he

means by this is that the rise in the cost of food has

become unbearable. (photo taken on the 3-year

anniversary of the Revolution)

40

The Tunisian state’s failure to address demands of social change and national dignity has dire

consequences on some young men. Two friends told me the story of an unemployed graduate who was

significantly affected by the discourse of revolutionary change. He hung himself out of despair and

addressed a letter to the media and government. He wrote: ‘The Revolution has been derailed and is

now a conflict between political parties. The poor have been left behind. Death is more dignified than

life. I thought the Revolution would give a job to at least one person in each family.’ He called out others

to follow suit and ‘let the masters live’.

For most unemployed graduates, the expectations of revolutionary change were high in 2011. While

many felt there would be more jobs, many businesses closed and jobs were lost. One unemployed man,

fluent in four languages, lost his job in a hotel because few tourists came to Tunisia after the Revolution.

Most young activists I met are very frustrated that the state followed the same liberal policies as the Ben

Ali regime instead of investing in their futures and that, in the meantime, prices are on the rise.

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My informants felt that because of the efforts they and their families put into attending university, it

was only natural that they should have a stable job afterwards. They thought that the Revolution would

address this, but the state instead only implemented temporary measures that do not suit their

expectations. In the meantime, they are gaining more skills and experience but their ambitions for the

future remain unfulfilled. They have to resort to jobs with difficult working conditions such as call

centres, especially when they are independent from their parents.

Since the Revolution, however, activists want jobs that can simultaneously address their own

frustrations and others’. Their expectations have, in a sense, been raised, while they simultaneously

have to revisit their hopes for independence. Waithood has become their condition rather than a

temporary situation, and is affecting every aspect of their personal lives. In the following chapter, I will

discuss whether my informants are able to exert agency and change this situation, or whether they are

merely ‘waiting’ for something to happen.

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VII) ‘Tunisians are a bit lazy but dreamy’: Post-

revolutionary activism

‘We were always subjects. Now we need to learn how to be citizens.’ – Chokri, 31

I heard criticisms from Tunisians of all ages, backgrounds and beliefs that young Tunisians are ‘passive’

or ‘waiting for something to happen’ without acting upon it. Several unemployed graduates also shared

their concern for the lack of a work ethic or activist tradition among young Tunisians. Some non-activists

even laughed when I said I was studying activists; in fact, they were doubtful that young Tunisians could

be engaged and whether it would be useful. They felt that many Tunisians spent more time complaining

about things than finding solutions for them. In accordance with Honwana (2012), I would argue that

the breakdown of the socioeconomic system, rather than young people’s personal failures, have led to

their situation of waithood.

In order to address this, I must explore the legacy of the dictatorship. I will argue that the Ben Ali

regime encouraged youth complacency and dissuaded them from activism in order to keep a grip over

society. I will show how many of my informants joined civil society organizations, especially after the

Revolution, in order to seek change in their futures.

While the state monopolized decision-making that would affect young Tunisians’ lives, my informants

are given responsibility for their own destinies. This chapter is about how unemployed graduate activists

practice their citizenship through activism. I will argue that in the absence of social rights for themselves

and others, my informants are taking responsibility by pursuing these rights through civil society

organizations. Despite their limitations in achieving this, they are acquiring valuable skills and

experience in the process.

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7.1. Passivity under a dictatorial regime

‘The dictatorship exploited and reinforced the culture of competition, laziness and selfishness to stay in

power for over 50 years.’ Ahmed, 29.

Many young activists suggested that young Tunisians are unconfident and, as a result, do not take

initiatives. They are not apathetic, but distrust and feel disconnected from those who control power

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(Honwana 2012: 24). They are skeptical of political institutions and politicians’ good faith and highly

doubt their intentions and capabilities. Consequently, some young Tunisians I met feel powerless in the

face of adversity and do not believe in their ability to change their country’s destiny. Many of the

activists, however, were very confident and undertook various activities simultaneously. Several of them

expressed that their civil society activism taught them personal initiative and communication skills that

they did not have before. But why do some young Tunisians ‘lack a sense of initiative’?

The ruling party penetrated the state apparatus in such a way that it influenced all aspects of everyday

life since Tunisia reached independence. The regime sought to homogenize Tunisians’ political views by

using the state-controlled media and free public education to impose its views, while simultaneously

creating an environment of mistrust and complacency to avoid any opposition to the regime. The regime

openly repressed young Tunisians so that they refrain from any form of activism. Some of my Marxist

informants were imprisoned or expelled from university. But these measures went beyond their

relationship with the state; many parents obliged their sons to stop speaking out against the regime out

of fear for their well-being. To achieve this, families used financial and moral means of coercion that

encouraged some of them to stop immediately.

Repressive policies that encouraged complacency were carried out by the police, the education

system, the Ministry of Employment and many others for over fifty years, so the impact on Tunisian

culture was significant. Young people almost unanimously shared their opinion that this system has

remained almost intact and that everything must change in Tunisia, from the economic and political

system to the education system and the family structure.

One activist working with unemployed graduates told me that the education system breeds passivity.

For him, schools and universities focus too much on written work and not enough on oral presentations

and discussions. He felt that young Tunisians often avoid speaking out, out of fear that they would be

criticized by their teachers and peers. Other graduates shared that students go to class, take notes and

recite whatever they are taught in the exam, without any critical analysis or interaction. They felt that

there is no focus on producing new ideas. Some even suggested that personal initiative is sometimes

met with punishment from teachers. They hinted that this breeds a culture of failure that heavily

influences young Tunisians in their future ventures.

The regime also sought to encourage complacency by repressing any alternative political discourses.

There were ‘citizenship classes’ that taught young Tunisians about the laws of the Republic and civic life.

43

Several people told me that this was a useless subject that did nothing to engage young people to

participate in social life, but rather did the contrary by breeding obedience to the regime’s laws. Most

activists I met felt that nothing can change as long as this education system remains.

While religion is not a cause for passivity, several Muslim activists I interviewed felt that it reinforces

what they called a ‘culture of failure’. They shared that when young Tunisians fail, they often seek

refuge within religion by stating that they failed because God did not want this to happen. Religion, in

this sense, can provide an explanation for the frustrations of everyday life and the lack of agency. One

student felt that they were just looking for a pretense not to act although they may want change.

Sohel, 28, told me he was angry that you can buy your way into public sector employment. Although

the UDC has been fighting against this type of corruption, he is strongly opposed to their political

activism. He feels that corruption can only disappear if God wills (inch’allah), but that there is nothing

that he or others can do about it in the meantime. He explained that society will not change as long as

everyone is selfish and that each person must make an effort to understand others. Like many other

unemployed graduates, Sohel expects the state to reform in order to change things.

7.2. Neoliberal discourse of self-responsibility

In Tunisia, the discourse of state-led change is often opposed to that of self-responsibility. On the one

hand, some felt that Tunisians are lazy, need more autonomy and self-responsibility and, because of a

lack thereof, were destined to stay poor. The discourse of self-responsibility and self-care has become

prevalent in the era of neoliberal globalization (Yuval-Davis 2011: 55). On the other, unemployed

graduate men were showing their frustrations at the current state of things and their inability to achieve

a sense of dignity. They often expect the state to provide it and become activists to change state

policies.

Young Tunisians are often stigmatized for not ‘working hard enough’ despite having limited

opportunities. While the authoritarian state had defined young Tunisians’ identity and opportunities in

the post-independence era, they are now expected to create opportunities for themselves. The

neoliberal model of governance that took shape in the 1970s gave rise to fiercer competition over

scarce resources and fetishizes individual responsibility (Hilgers 2010: 356). My informants, on the other

hand, blamed the state’s economic policy for creating the conditions for their frustration and

complacency.

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In Tunisia, like in Europe, parents want their children to succeed and society looks down on those who

do not encounter ‘success’ as defined by dominant discourses in society. Beck (1992) argues that

individual responsibilization encourages people to ‘conduct themselves in accordance with the

appropriate model of action’ (29). Individuals are given the responsibility for enabling their own

‘livelihood mediated by the market as well as their biographical planning and organization (ibid: 130).

My informants were often expected to grow up and fulfill their societal obligations by finding a stable

job that can guarantee them a well-viewed social status. Several Tunisians hinted that status is

extremely important in Tunisia and that it is generally defined by wealth or job position. However,

several things prevented them from fulfilling this including the lack of experience to obtain a first job

and a lack of jobs that correspond to their capabilities.

Since the Revolution, the formal NGO sector and the state have reinforced the idea of self-

responsibility. There are many new NGOs working on the notion of citizenship. A Tunisian NGO working

on educating young Tunisians about citizenship stated that young citizens should become the ‘actors of

his/her own destiny’. These organizations seek to establish the foundations of a new democratic society

by creating active, engaged citizens. The subject is educated into becoming an ‘active, autonomous,

responsible entrepreneur of her or his own DIY project of the self’ (Kelly 2001: 29). They are expected to

vote and be aware of the laws of the Republic, while taking care of themselves without help from the

state.

In the current societal model, taking responsibility entails being active by taking on jobs in the private

sector that do not match expectations and do not guarantee any sort of social security. Because some

young Tunisian activists have refused to acknowledge this conception of labour, they are demonized as

lazy and selfish. In reference to the project of citizenship advanced by many NGOs, one informant

mentioned: ‘what do I care about citizenship if I am unemployed and hungry?’ I asked Zied, a 29 year-old

Marxist activist why there is so much unemployment to which he responded:

‘The capitalist system needs unemployment to keep the balance. Labour is a commodity that is sold and

it must always follow the rules of supply and demand, so this system needs the unemployed in order to

keep a certain level of wages.’

He feels that the current jobs are not adequate to achieve a sense of dignity and that workers like him

are just ‘commodities’. For the time being, he is applying for jobs, going for interviews and waiting for an

opportunity. Since the Revolution, he has done contractual work for NGOs and his dream is to get a

45

permanent position with one. He is obliged, nonetheless, to engage in poorly paid, low-skilled jobs to

guarantee his own survival. He feels that he is not responsible for his difficult situation, but rather that

his frustrations reflect the state’s economic decisions.

The following episode reflects the conflict between these conflicting visions between constraints and

self-responsibility: in one case, an employee of the World Bank argues that young Tunisians need to be

more autonomous and competitive; in the other, a young graduate feels the state has the responsibility

to formulate a more coherent employment policy.

I attended a conference on unemployment organized by an international NGO at a 5-star hotel in

Tunis. There, I was with many different activists from the UDC and other NGOs. I sensed a lot of tension

during the day between my unemployed friends and the speakers at the event. The academics and

experts from international institutions emphasized the need for graduates to be more flexible and

acquire more skills in order to find work. The unemployed activists, on the other hand, noted that the

state has a responsibility in creating employment. This was laughed off by the moderator of a discussion

from the World Bank who stated that ‘this is an idea of the past’.

We later treated ourselves to the buffet offered by the NGO. There was a wide array of food, but

Ibrahim, 25, only ate meat because ‘it’s not every day that we get to have some’. This reveals the

disparity between the amount of money that is spent on events and the poverty of some participants.

This excessive spending on luxurious events was a recurring source of frustration for several civil society

activists. They felt the money could be better spent on social programs that would help them and their

compatriots.

In a workshop later in the day, there was a debate over the state’s role in promoting employment.

Ibrahim was very frustrated with the discourse used by the experts who ran the discussion. He stated

that the Revolution reflected the crisis of Tunisia’s current model of development. He felt that the

employment situation has become so unbearable that he was ‘scared that we will kill each other one

day in competition for a job’. He felt that he had all the tools to succeed, but that the current economic

model limited his ability to express the capabilities he developed as an engineer studying in France.

Whether he is right or wrong to claim this, what is certain is that his view does not weigh in

comparison to the dominant view defended by the state and many civil society organizations. While

most young people hope that the current economic system in Tunisia changes, there are no existing

alternatives that they can rally with, except for the old model of state intervention. Nigam (2012) points

46

to the current crisis of the ‘political’ and suggests that in the wake of the North African revolutions,

these societies are “living in an interregnum when the old forms of politics have become moribund and

obsolete but new ones have not yet emerged … Something, clearly, is waiting to be articulated in this

relentless refusal of the political” by the younger generation (175).

Unemployed graduates often expect the state to employ them, while the current situation is

preventing the state from employing anyone. At the same time, unemployed graduates are being given

the responsibility to make themselves more employable in a difficult economic climate. Because they

are conscious of the lack of alternatives and that the issue is not their lack of self-responsibility, many

opt for activist strategies to improve their situation.

7.3. Activist citizenship

‘My citizenship is unfinished because I do not have a job. How do I practice my citizenship then? I express

myself, uh… I do political and unionist activities, I give my opinion, I protest, I contest. That is exercising

your citizenship.’ – Mohammed, 27.

Since the Revolution, there has been a strong emphasis on promoting citizenship within the NGO

sector, in order to shape the new post-transition society. Several activists were frustrated that they

emphasized civil and political rights to the detriment of socioeconomic rights. Indeed, the unemployed

graduates I met view socioeconomic rights, including obtaining a job and having dignity, as the main

component of citizenship. They often felt that they could not and did not feel the urge to be active

citizens if they could not afford to live. They did, however, feel that in the meantime they could fight for

those socioeconomic rights or be active citizens by being joining NGOs or unions.

Most of my informants became activists after the Revolution. They examined their possibilities and

actualized those possibilities in practice (Vigh 2009: 150) by joining and creating movements both during

and after the Revolution. Since 2011, young Tunisians have a much stronger feeling of national pride

because this event somewhat gave them their agency back. Although it did not lead to the change that

Tunisians wanted, it showed that change is possible because it was the first time regime change came

from below since the independence movement. People were hopeful and optimistic because they felt

that they were able to influence their own destinies and the course of history rather than depending on

47

a dictator to make decisions for them. The Arab Spring broke with dominant academic discourses that

Arab or Muslim countries do not have a democratic political culture (Chaney 2012).

‘We were able to break with this stereotypical image of these people (Arabs/Muslims) not deserving

democracy, that have no dignity, no. This people can fight for democracy, can do something, they are

human beings and they are worthy of freedom.’ – Hamed, 35.

Many young activists believed that Tunisians have an inherent desire for change, but that they are

sometimes too lazy to work for it. They were proud that Tunisians continue to express their indignation

at any occasion: after the Revolution, two provisional governments and two elected governments were

forced to resign after many protests.

These young activists spend countless hours on organization, networking and conceiving new ideas.

Like elsewhere in the world, however, political activism is often looked down on by dominant discourses

as something that is ‘unproductive’ or ‘extremist’. ‘Why do they complain instead of working?’ a man in

his fifties asked me. Several unemployed non-activists felt that it only served the activists’ interests and

quest for power, while other non-activist unemployed men were very enthusiastic about any opposition

to the state.

Specific reasons for becoming an activist vary significantly between different individuals and are hard

to comprehend. Some of these reasons described by my informants include: to keep busy, to be

engaged, to change their current situation, to not stay at home, to act patriotically, to make a little bit of

money, to help people, to get experience, to meet people, to improve their CVs and because of their

friendship and family environments.

The main factors drawing people towards activism is the disparity between their expectations and

reality and their discontent with the socioeconomic and political situation. Most young Tunisians,

including those who are not activists, share this view (Honwana 2013). However, some of them have

opted for activist strategies in order to keep busy or change the situation in a context of long-term

structural unemployment. I was not so concerned with why they became activists but rather how they

practiced activism.

After the Revolution, many young people were motivated by their strong sense of national pride and

joined parties and NGOs. Many informants felt that their country did not offer any rights, but that they

had a duty to fight for those rights for their fellow compatriots. A journalist mentioned that three

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months after the Revolution, most of these young activists lost their enthusiasm because things did not

change. Many young men expected a moment of rapid social change but are now increasingly

disillusioned with the course of things. Nonetheless, there is still a core of young activists in central Tunis

that is committed to changing their society, although several activists suggested it is shrinking or

becoming less vibrant as the new political system consolidates.

Most of the unemployed graduate activists I met were loosely affiliated to several organizations,

whether charities, parties or unions. I will address the role of political parties, although young Tunisians

are increasingly disillusioned with their intentions and capabilities. Charity and union activism, however,

allow young Tunisians to gain new skills, experiences and contacts, while attempting to change society

or help others.

7.3.1. Party demobilization

Some young Tunisians joined political parties after the Revolution. There were 97 parties who ran at

the October 23rd 2011 elections. Less than half of young Tunisians registered to vote however (Honwana

2013, p. 123). Furthermore, my informants showed apathy towards political parties almost unanimously

since then. They felt that political parties had all entered the ideological debate over the role of Islam,

and have divided Tunisians in the process. A few of them, however, still remained with the PCOT

(Communist Party), although some also left because they too had entered the identity debate.

Some voted in the elections and were majorly disappointed. My interviews and informal discussions

implied that a lot of young people voted for the Congrès pour la République (centre-left), represented

by President Marzouki in the current government, and are completely disillusioned with their

performance. Hassan, 25, shared his nostalgia of the Ben Ali era with me. For him, all politicians are

corrupt and are Tunisia’s biggest problem.

‘I voted in 2011 and it was a major error. I voted for Ennhada, but they are rubbish. In the future I will not

make this same mistake. It was the first and last time that I vote.’

Ennahdha had promised to fight corruption and half the unemployment rate during their five-year

term. Since voting for them did not help him achieve his priority of finding work, Hassan chose not to

vote again. Zinedine, who helped interpret parts of our discussion, later shared with me that this reflects

the defeatist attitude of young Tunisians when they face adversity. Like many others unemployed

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graduates I met, Hassan simply lacked faith in state institutions and politicians. They feel that they have

nothing to gain from voting for politicians. This relies upon their view that liberal democracy does not

represent them and that in their view democracy cannot exist without socioeconomic rights.

7.3.2. Charity work

After the Revolution, thousands of new organizations opened up and many young Tunisians joined

their ranks with the feeling that they could finally change things. They joined associations of all sorts

ranging from debate and cinema clubs to organizations focused on democratic participation,

development projects or cultural rights. There is also a very vibrant Islamist civil society that has little

contact with secular organizations. There are also many new youth organizations in central Tunis,

generally composed in majority by women, including in leadership positions.

Most of the people I met from these organizations were either students or wage-earners. Unemployed

graduates also joined large international NGOs or new local ones, either out of idealism or to have

something to do during the day. In the process, they learn many new skills (computing, communication,

project management), gain experience that they could add onto their CV and help others through

projects.

Youssef, 28, has been unemployed for 4 years now. Despite graduating first in his class, he has no work

experience in his field of study and is therefore unable to find a job. Meanwhile, he sought additional

training to make himself more employable and keep busy. He is taking English classes and learned how

to program in Flash and do first aid. He had one stint of employment during the past four years. He

obtained the job because the owner of the company was a fan of voluntary work and had seen he was a

member of the Red Crescent. Youssef felt that the owner trusted him more than the other candidates

because his NGO experience showed that he was willing to work extra hours without asking for

additional pay. I spoke to an employer who also suggested that membership of civil society

organizations shows personal initiative, project management skills and communication skills, all of which

are desirable for recruiters.

Two other unemployed friends participated in creating a youth NGO building on dynamics that

emerged during the World Social Forum 2013 held in Tunis. One of them chose to quit his Master’s

degree and focus full-time on helping his organization succeed. Although he was an excellent student,

he felt that studying would not be as useful as him committing to activism. There is no guarantee that he

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will find work, even with a Master. He suggested that he was very happy about the course of things

because he was making his own dream a reality. He began as a political activist and was now actively

involved in making his dream of contributing to long-term social change come true. This was made

possible by his hard work and a large network of friends and collaborators.

7.3.3. Unions as the platform for political activism

Social activism can be beneficial to the targeted community and help unemployed graduates become

more employable and pursue their dreams. Political activism through the unions has a longstanding

tradition in Tunisia. The UDC is the main platform to address unemployment on the national scale

outside political parties or the state.

During the dictatorship, the main workers union (UGTT) was actually the only credible alternative to

the ruling party. It went from a workers’ movement to an open arena rallying intellectuals, professionals

and activists of all political colours (Sadiki 2002: 504). Subsequently, being a unionist became a

euphemism for being an opponent of the ruling party. Most of the young unionists I met had parents in

the UGTT. Most of them, especially those with leftist views, became activists or interested in politics

through the main students’ union (UGET).

Before 2011, the UGET was the main space for students to participate in politics or express their views.

There we actually very few other extracurricular activities available for students. Those who were

political activists before the Revolution were all once members of this organization. There were many

battles within it for control of different faculty boards within universities, but leftist parties generally

dominated the union. Several people shared stories of their UGET activism, including physical fights

between them and members of the UGTE, a students’ union with Islamist affiliations. Now that they are

unemployed graduates rather than students, most of them are instead affiliated with the unemployed

graduates union (UDC).

7.3.4. Union des Diplomés Chomeurs

Between 15,000 and 20,000 of the 360,000 total unemployed graduates have joined the UDC. Two

members shared that the UDC was created as a sort of bridge between the UGET (students’ concerns)

and the UGTT (workers’ concerns). In 2006, students and graduates from Tunis mobilized over the

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relatively new issue of graduate unemployment. The UDC activists told me that their experience was

essential in igniting the 2008 Gafsa protests and the 2011 Revolution, because Ben Ali could not repress

people demanding work. Since this was a legitimate, non-political claim, they felt that they had a lot of

room to manoeuver against the regime, at least until 2009.

The UDC has established a legitimate framework for unemployed graduates to negotiate with the state

and demand the right to work. In 2011, the union was legalized, and has now become the state’s main

interlocutor to discuss unemployment issues with.

‘We fought a lot, we sacrificed a lot, there was a lot of repression from the police and all that. Now when

I pass through many Tunisian cities and I see the offices of the UDC it is a great satisfaction. To have that

is already very touching. Especially when I compare it from the beginnings. It’s true, it’s because of the

Revolution, but the Revolution is also thanks to the actions of the unemployed graduates.’ – Sofiane, 36.

This union has a strong network and is now rooted in most Tunisian cities. They are very effective at

using the internet to coordinate their actions, as shown by their highly active Facebook groups

nationwide. Furthermore, they organize many protests and sit-ins throughout the country demanding

that the state’s recruitment policy change. They are making themselves visible through powerful

imagery: for example, they ‘sell’ their university diplomas on the street because they are considered

worthless if they do not provide employment.

Unemployed graduates often have the ‘time, skills and motivation to engage in political critique and

mobilization’ (Jeffrey 2009: 184). In Tunisia, unemployed graduate activists are actively formulating

future employment alternatives, although the state is somewhat unresponsive to their demands. In the

following text, I will describe a protest at which unemployed graduates mobilize in the name of

‘freedom, work and (national) dignity’ to influence state policy.

In the month of March, I attended a UDC protest at the Kasbah, home to the Prime Minister’s office.

The union struggles for the ‘right to a job’ and many of its members were frustrated at its absence from

the new Constitution. They not only feel that they are entitled to work, but also that the state is

responsible for finding a solution to unemployment, like in Morocco (Bogaert and Emperador 2011:

251).

52

This protest opposed the competitive CAPES public recruitment process. Under this policy, candidates

go through a competitive exam to access public sector teaching jobs, but there are frequent allegations

of corruption. My informants shared different prices to access public employment (3000 to 7000 euros),

but what they did agree on was that the price had gone up since the Revolution as public sector jobs

have become scarce. People invest in this process because it guarantees them lifetime employment in

the public sector. Mohammed, 36, has a personal stake in the CAPES exam and felt that ‘the CAPES does

not evaluate one’s skills, because those skills are already evaluated at university. It is an artificial

obstacle, it has nothing to do with skills.’

Early in the morning, I could already sense the tension in the presence of journalists, policemen,

activists and casual spectators. There were 100-200 protestors; men and women of all ages; many of

whom had come in from the interior regions by bus for the occasion. There were a few parents present

with their unemployed children. A couple of protestors explained that parents now attend the UDC’s

protests because they sometimes have several unemployed children. One of them mentioned that:

‘It is very difficult to be unemployed when you are in a poor or middle class family, especially with the

rise of inflation. That is why we are here today.’

We walked towards the entrance of the medina, only to be blocked off by policemen wearing masks.

The leaders of the union demanded a meeting with the Prime Minister, only to be rejected. One unionist

loudly expressed his frustration at the government’s failure to communicate with them. Soon after,

fights broke out, leading to an old man getting hit and many people getting shoved around by the police,

to the anger of many protestors including myself. The police was trying to move us away from the roads

and onto the square where they could surround us. One stranger walked up to me and exclaimed ‘You

see how democracy works here? The cops just beat you up.’

The union leadership quickly reacted and marched down to the Ministry of Education, where a sit-in

began. They eventually met with the Vice-Minister for Education and communicated their demands. The

failure to obtain an immediate answer led to their decision to occupy the Ministry’s offices in Tunisia’s

interior regions. During the day, many speakers expressed their grievances, one after the other, while

the crowd listened carefully. They discussed how there are more billionaires than ever, while the

financial situation is getting worse for most Tunisians, and other things that I could not fully understand.

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Like at most protests, the chant ‘shoql, hurriyah, karama wataniya’ (work, freedom and national

dignity) was incessantly repeated by the protestors including myself. Other chants included ‘Neither

fear, nor terror, the street belongs to the people’ and ‘the people want the government to fall’. The

speakers were almost exclusively men, aside from two young women who voiced their opinions to much

praise. Although I did not understand their entire speeches, I could sense the eloquence and charisma of

the speakers. Their anger could be felt through the quivering of their voices. One protestor confided

that ‘I love it, these speakers are fantastic and what they are saying is great. Thanks to the dictatorship

we have people like that. This is the only thing for which I will say thanks to the dictatorship.’ He implied

that these speakers became such strong and passionate leaders because the dictatorship fiercely

repressed them in their past struggles.

This episode shows how solidarity and frustrations are mobilized through symbols including chants,

images and speeches. It also shows how unemployed graduates aspire for public sector employment

and changes in the state’s liberal policy and corrupt practices. They attempt to negotiate their class

interests in public places through interactions with the state. Their anger stems from the strong

economic inequality that exists within Tunisian society and the false promises made to young graduates.

They are upset that wealthier people can access jobs through corrupt practices, while they cannot

access stable employment.

Figures 4 and 5: Speakers address the crowd one by one at the protest. Notice the expressive hand

motions by the charismatic speaker on the left and the policeman wearing a balaclava on the right.

54

Unionism is a powerful symbolic mechanism to defend unemployed graduates, who can unite in the

name of a common purpose: the right to work. The protestors came from different political parties,

different regions and some were much older than others, but their goal united them despite these

dissimilarities. They mobilize to demand that the state respond to their expectations, however here like

in many other cases, the state fails to listen, much to their anger.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There remains a fundamental tension within Tunisian society between two discourses and practices:

that of state-driven change on one hand, and individual responsibility on the other. Unemployed

graduates expect the state to encourage or provide employment, while the state is withdrawing from

many sectors of the economy. The prevailing discourse within society and NGOs is that young Tunisians

are passive and must take initiative to find jobs for themselves. The problem with this discourse is two-

fold: 1) the educational system and family structure are somewhat similar to what it was under the

dictatorship; consequently young Tunisians are brought up in environment which breeds passivity to a

certain extent and 2) the crisis of unemployment overrides personal initiative, because there are very

few jobs suited to university graduates even if they become more employable. The Revolution has, in a

sense, accentuated these problems and graduates’ frustrations because the ensuing crisis has led to cuts

in public education and public sector recruitment, while further promoting self-responsibility through

the formal NGO sector that emerged after the Revolution.

In the meantime, however, my informants can now resort to activism to create new opportunities for

themselves and others and try to influence policy-making. Joining civil society organizations has enabled

them to gain new experiences and skills while they are unemployed, especially since the Revolution. The

successes of these strategies are sometimes minimal, leading to further frustration, but as I showed with

the case of my friends in NGOs, activism can help find employment or follow new dreams. Activism can,

in this sense, help young Tunisians pursue their socioeconomic rights. Activism can also, as the next

chapter will show, contribute to unemployed graduates’ communicative practices within society.

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VIII) Post-revolutionary sociability: Between unity

and diversity

‘Freedom of speech is the only thing we won with the Revolution.’ – recurrent quote

‘Everybody expresses their point of view but nobody respects the limit.’ – Ali, 27

Both of these quotes reflect the tension addressed in this chapter. Almost all of my informants were

extremely patriotic and shared this with many other Tunisians; however Tunisia remains a highly divided

society. The dictatorship’s police state created a divisive environment in order to prevent

communication between Tunisians that could lead to regime change. The regime repressed opposing

political discourses and veiled the very strong class divisions that permeated Tunisian society. Since the

Revolution, these disparities have become apparent to the public eye.

Many people identified across ideological and class boundaries against the Ben Ali regime during the

Revolution. Yet, Tunisia is still a very deeply divided society along generational, class and ideological

lines. The debate over the role of Islam in society and widening social inequality has enhanced these

divisions in some cases. My informants felt that a democratic Tunisian nation could be established,

however that it is tainted by the selfish attitudes promoted by politicians before and after the

Revolution. I will show how some unemployed graduates communicate with people of opposing beliefs

and backgrounds through their civil society activism, something that would rarely occur before the

Revolution.

8.1. The historical nation, ideology and democracy

Most of my informants were extremely patriotic, and even more so since the Revolution.

Nevertheless, many informants suggested that because the ‘Tunisian mentality’ included a lack of

respect for others, democracy cannot exist for the time being. They often felt that because the

dictatorship had affected every aspect of social life, this would take many years to change. Some felt,

however, that many things in their history and culture suggested that democracy was deeply rooted in

the Tunisian nation, but that it was tarnished by a culture of greed, a lack of patriotism from political

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leaders and foreign influence. Although it did not bring the change that many hoped for, the Revolution

showed that Tunisians could demand change and is an influential country rather than only subject to

outside influence, leading to an upsurge of national pride.

Ibrahim, 26, emphasized Tunisia’s history of civil and political rights with great pride, although he is

very discontent with the direction Tunisia has taken since independence. He is adamant on building

towards a new democratic model based on Tunisian values. Despite Tunisia speaking Arabic, young

Tunisians were always keen on emphasizing the historical specificity of Tunisia and that they were not

Arab.

‘We cannot compare Tunisia to other Arabic countries. Carthage had a parliament. Women ruled Tunisia.

We abandoned slavery 150 years ago, Gulf states still have it.’

He feels that Tunisia’s main problem today is its Islamist majority in government. Like many other

Tunisians, he is trying to make sense of the situation by affirming Tunisia’s uniqueness and dissimilarity

to more conservative Arab countries. Salafism and other extreme forms of Islamist values are viewed by

my activist friends as recent foreign imports from Gulf countries that are alien to Tunisia’s traditions.

Ibrahim was strongly opposed to the use of the niqab, because ‘you cannot be a citizen that is engaged

in public life if I cannot see you’.

Some graduates emphasized that ‘Islam’ means peace and that it was inherently democratic because it

incorporated ideas of social justice. One Christian activist even suggested that Islam is compatible with

democracy, while Catholicism is not. He felt that Islam did not impose a hierarchical institution; instead

you are free to follow whatever leader you want.

One young man explained to me that ‘all of Tunisia’s debates and heritage can be explained by looking

into Bourguiba.’ The debate over secularism vs. Islamism today originates in Bourguiba’s imposition of

the former instead of reaffirming Tunisia’s Arab-Islamic identity. Several people mentioned that

Bourguiba was a patriot because he died with no money in his bank account while Ben Ali stole his

country’s wealth. They were proud of the accomplishments realized under his rule such as women’s

rights, free health care and education and establishing a secular state. Bourguiba nostalgists, which

included a few unemployed activists but mostly older people, always referred back to these

advancements to show how a benevolent dictator is the best solution in Tunisia today, especially

because they feel that Tunisians’ mindsets are undemocratic. But why is there a lack of ‘democratic

practices’?

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8.2. ‘Divide and conquer’ : lack of communication under the dictatorship

The Bourguiba and Ben Ali dictatorial regimes inculcated a strong sense of national pride, whilst

simultaneously dividing people. They imposed their ‘official’ view of the nation on Tunisians, in which

secular nationalism is the only route to modernity and development (Sadiki 2002: 507). Expressing

alternative political discourses became legalized after the Revolution, however the dictatorship’s legacy

of division and lack of societal dialogue remains significant.

Sadiki (2002) argues that under the dictatorship, national unity was prioritized over democratic

pluralism (497). The Ben Ali regime exploited rivalries between people to guarantee its grip over the

country. The absence of civil and political rights led to the absence of a ‘common political language and

conventions of conduct to be able to participate effectively in the competition for resources and the

protection… of a shared political arena’ (ibid: 508). They developed a police state that encouraged

denunciations, even within families and among friends.

‘In this phase, it was all against all. The regime used the culture of competition, laziness and selfishness

to divide us.’ – Marouen, 29

These divisions penetrated every sphere of life: within schools, in the streets, at cafés and even at

family meetings. Several people shared stories of physical fights between Islamists, secularists and ruling

party members within universities. One informant shared that he spoke out against the regime as a

student and was imprisoned because he was denounced. The ban on free speech led to deep

misunderstandings between different segments of the population. The regime especially played the

Islamist movement against Marxist movements to divide the student opposition and union movements

(Ayari 2009).

Many people pointed to a lack of respect and communication between Tunisians. People did not tend

to queue anywhere and sometimes there were fist fights (in the supermarket, in front of schools, at

bars). Several people told me that in the first days following the Revolution, people queued up perfectly,

much to their surprise. Yet, in the streets I noticed people exchanging sympathies constantly. So why is

there a failure to communicate?

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‘We are a people that does not know how to listen, a people that loves talking, with a majority that talks

without saying anything. Our education was based on noise and not on silence. On screaming, not on

dialogue. Without listening we will not go far.’ – Fares, 32.

In a sense, many informants feel that Tunisians talk ‘at’ each other and not ‘to’ each other. They talk

but do not listen to their peers. While I could not understand their interactions, I could sense that young

men often spoke at the same time, disregarding speech time for others. This generally did not occur

among my activist friends, but rather between strangers. Ramy, 28, works in a youth NGO where he

trains young people in schools to respect others’ speaking time. He suggests that little was done in the

past to encourage young people to respect their peers by listening to them. He and other graduates

have blamed the failure to listen on how they were brought up: notably in families and in schools.

Ali, 28, shared his concern with the poor quality of the school system today and what this entails for

their communication skills. He complained at the lack of extracurricular activities in Tunisian schools.

Instead, there is too much focus on learning facts by heart. He claimed that there used to be theatre,

sports and music classes but that they have disappeared because of public school cuts. Now, he

suggested, there are very few platforms within the public education system for young people to interact

with each other. He felt that such activities can help young people express themselves better to make

their concerns known and be understood.

‘What is essential is not to have knowledge, but what you can do with that knowledge. Everyone has

information stored in their brains but what’s the use for it if you are incapable of expressing it.’

Many informants also felt that their voice was unheard, especially by the older generation, including

their parents and their professors. When they tried to express something to their parents, young

Tunisians were often met with responses that disregarded the importance of their interventions. ‘You

are young’, ‘you are inexperienced’ ‘you don’t know what you’re talking about’ are common expressions

from parents that frustrated my young informants. Some activists mentioned that they were surprised

the day that someone older listened to their opinions and that this was rare before the Revolution. How

did the Revolution change the way they interact with their family, people of different ideologies and

wealthier people?

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8.3. From division to unity

‘At our NGO, we have all social classes, all types of mindsets. Unemployed graduates, business owners,

professors, men, women, Muslims and Catholics. There are many different beliefs and social categories,

but we do not care about all of that, because we are all Tunisians and we all love associative work, that

is the basis.’ – Ali, 28.

This quote reflects how some unemployed activists I met feel about their civil society work. They were

often motivated to become activists by a strong sense of national pride and the desire to help other

Tunisians. Within the charities or unions that they joined, they were able to meet people that are very

different to them in terms of class, age and even ideology. While this was not widespread, my

informants were generally more likely to communicate across these boundaries in their civil society

activities.

Some of them felt proudest to be Tunisian during the 23-day revolutionary uprising. There was a

strong sense of unity between people of different backgrounds, because they had a common enemy in

the Ben Ali regime. National pride was a powerful symbol upon which Tunisians mobilized during the

revolutionary uprising. One young man told me he was most proud of being Tunisian on the 14th of

January 2011, not when Ben Ali left but during the protest on Avenue Bourguiba.

‘We chanted the national anthem and started running towards the police. I felt like I was going to die in

that moment.’ – Jalil, 26.

One graduate expressed concern that there ‘always has to be a crisis for people to come together.’

First there was the Revolution, followed by the assassination of two leftist politicians led to massive

demonstrations across the country. A few informants expressed their pride that people do unite when it

matters. The Tunisian uprising brought together a coalition of forces, first amongst the youth, then

‘spanning age, gender and ethnicity, socioeconomic, political and religious ideologies’ (Honwana 2013:

6). After the Revolution, free speech and civil society activism helped shed light on different groups’

concerns and enabled communication to take place. In reality, however, as I will show in relation to (1)

Intergenerational dialogue, (2) Cross-ideological dialogue (3) inter-class dialogue, communication has

been progressed but is sometimes made difficult by deep societal tensions. I will end this section with

reference to the practice of cosmopolitan sociability (or dialogue across boundaries) embodied by an

unemployed activist named Ahmed.

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8.3.1. A youth Revolution?

For many young Tunisians I met, the Revolution marked a shift in the way they interact with their

parents. The hierarchical family structure has been challenged by the increased awareness of young

people’s concerns. Young graduates are generally keen to discuss politics with their parents while this

used to be taboo. Sometimes, they have completely opposing views, to the point that they have stopped

discussing politics in order to ease tensions. Bilel, 23, mentioned that families have been divided by the

identity debate over the role of Islam sustained by political parties. Families have now taken sides within

this debate, he added, although this would never have been relevant before the Revolution.

Marouen, 25, shared that he has many arguments with his parents over the political party they

support (Nidaa Tounes – liberal). Through his NGO activism, he is in contact with politicians and does not

trust this party who has many members of the old regime within its ranks. He has learned a lot about

the functioning of the new democratic system in his organization, but he feels that his parents are

brainwashed by mainstream television.

In other cases, my informants are now informing their parents about political happenings and ideas,

especially when their parents are illiterate. Their civil society work gives them a certain level of expertise

that their parents cannot rival after years of political repression. Young men shared that they especially

speak of issues that affect their parents in everyday life: inflation and unemployment. They share their

common indignation over the cost of basic necessities and somewhat heated debates about

unemployment. While some parents understand that there are too few jobs, others are upset that their

sons are activists instead of getting jobs that can secure their future and help them financially. Yet,

despite the fact that parents were always considered more knowledgeable than their children and

worthy of obedience instead of communicating, this division is somewhat challenged today.

However, my informants felt that the political system is still defined by the older generation and has

consequently disregarded youth priorities for reform in favour of the identity debate. I went to the

National Assembly on January 26th 2014, the day that they voted to adopt the new Constitution. After

almost three years of argument, the Constitution was voted in with an overwhelming majority of 94%. It

was a moment of great pride for all the people present. Secularist parliamentarians and Islamist ones

embraced after three years of fighting. Those present were chanting the national anthem for hours and

61

saying mabrouk (congratulations) to each other. The friend I accompanied there stated that ‘Moments

like these are important because they show unity although there are differences.’

I asked unemployed activists what the Constitution meant to them. Many of them were suspicious

about the unity between different ideological camps. They often felt that the Constitution was a

betrayal because it did not include the right to work or other economic advancements. Like with the

Revolution, they felt that they gained significant political and civil rights, but no socioeconomic rights.

Socioeconomic rights, however, are a priority for unemployed graduates and many other Tunisians.

Some informants felt that wealthier people in parliament and civil society failed to acknowledge this

because they did not have the same concerns. Intergenerational conflicts are often conflated with

ideological ones, because young people feel alienated by national identity debates.

8.3.2. Ideological warfare

‘After the 23rd of October 2011 elections, the divisions between Islamists and the rest encouraged

intolerance amongst Tunisians. This and the rising cost of living led people to think more of themselves.’

– Moez, 27.

Young people’s concerns such as unemployment, social justice and civil liberties were sidelined during

the elections and beyond in favour of the debate on Tunisian identity. My informants shared that this

debate polarized many families, friends and public debates, while reinforcing the individualist and

distrusting attitude of many Tunisians.

Walid, 28, named freedom of conscience as his main concern for Tunisia today. He shared that the

state repressed opposing discourses under the dictatorship, but today society, with its values inherited

from the dictatorship, represses them instead. He was upset that there is societal intolerance towards

Figure 6: Celebration of the

Constitutional vote in the National

Assembly. Citizens were

overwhelmingly absent from the

festivities (photo taken by me).

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people who choose to live alternative lifestyles. He mentioned that society looks down upon Salafists as

much as on punks.

‘There is tolerance by obligation, not by will... After the Revolution, we have been trying (tolerance),

without understanding why, without asking questions. Tolerating isn’t just living together, it is mixing up,

it is sharing, it’s influencing each other. Diversity. We must all live together and share knowledge,

everyday life… Without looking at each other differently.’

While mutual understanding seems to be essential in order to transition towards democracy, my

informants suggested that since the Revolution, ideological debates have been exacerbated by a failure

to communicate. Many young men believed that Tunisians are very tolerant, but that political parties

had divided them along the lines of the secularist / Islamist debate. Most of my informants felt alienated

by these questions, instead suggesting that their families had always been tolerant about whether they

chose to practice religion or not. They also did not question the existence or value of a secular state,

much to the contrary. Honwana (2013) argues that in the transition period ‘young people’s liberal views

are confronting conservative values in a society that has relied on the state as the main arbiter of moral

standards’ (108). Some of them did, however, share a concern that before the Revolution it was looked

down upon to show your faith openly. They were motivated by a concern for freedom above all else,

although today they find it very difficult to defend certain Islamist practices because of the Ennahdha

government’s repressive policies and Salafist movements’ violence in the post-revolutionary period.

There is a lot of intolerance from some of my informants towards Islamists, and vice-versa. I witnessed

one young Salafist declare that he would kill my unemployed friend in the ‘next war’ because he did not

adhere to Islamic values. A student activist felt that the Islamists’ intolerance has made her intolerant

towards them. She could not respect their views because they killed Chokri Belaid, the left-wing

parliamentarian who was assassinated in February 2013. To avoid such hatred, Hamza, 27, does not

Figure 7: 3-year anniversary of the

Revolution on Avenue Bourguiba. The

street was split up into different

sections, one for each political party.

Police presence was overwhelming

(photo taken by me).

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discuss politics or culture with his friends who adhere to Salafism. By doing so, he can avoid disputes,

because their opinions do not converge.

Other unemployed graduates shared how their civil society activism helped them open up to others.

Some of them met people of different beliefs and backgrounds for the first time within these

organizations or their activities. One activist mentioned that it is an ‘école de vie’ (school of life),

meaning that it teaches how to be engaged in society and what rules to follow. Young men were forced

to communicate with people who did not share the same understandings of the world.

In their travels throughout the country, some unemployed activists meet and engage with all kinds of

people, sharing the values and interests of their organization. Walid shared that before he started with

his organization, he did not tolerate Salafists, but that he can now hold a constructive conversation with

them. Although this did not necessarily lead to an agreement, coming into contact with these people

meant that they had at least accepted that different people interpret their social world in different

ways. The Revolution and civil society opened up new spaces of dialogue for many young graduates and,

in the process, triggered their desire to learn and exchange ideas with others.

8.3.3. Class struggle

Gherib (2011) argues that under the dictatorship, national unity was mobilized in order to veil divisions

and any concept of ‘class struggle’ (423). The middle class was declared to be the foundation and basis

of the social order, but was overestimated by the regime to legitimate its success (ibid: 424). Two upper

middle-class activists shared that they did not even know there was so much poverty in Tunisia before

the Revolution. The country and its cities are spatially divided across class boundaries, so there was little

contact between wealthier people and poor neighbourhoods.

Within Tunis, there are very distinct neighbourhoods for poor, middle-class and wealthy Tunisians.

Since the Revolution, many middle-class Tunisians, including activists, have become afraid to enter

certain neighbourhoods at night, including the one where I lived, because of revolutionary tensions and

suspicions of theft and violence. The centre was a working-class neighbourhood but was the one place

where people of different class backgrounds would run into each other, although there was often little

interaction between them. I observed very few encounters between people of different social classes,

except at civil society conferences or in daily commercial encounters. The upper middle-class activists I

knew did not interact very much with the unemployed graduate activists, except at conferences or

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protests where their interests converged.

My Marxist informants were very keen to show the strong class divisions that existed in their society.

One of them, an unemployed graduate in a youth NGO suggested that in Tunisia today ‘the proletariat is

the unemployed graduates, those who can’t afford to live’. In the following segment, I will show how

one young man identifies as a Marxist and an unemployed graduate, but also engages in dialogue with

people of age, ideological and class backgrounds. While Ahmed is not alone in many of the things I will

describe, his story is representative of the communicative practices some young Tunisians engage in

since the Revolution.

8.3.4. Ahmed the communicator

I spent a lot of time with Ahmed, 29, the communication representative for the Union des Diplômés

Chômeurs. He has been a political activist since the mid-2000s, mainly within the UGET and UDC, and

has made social change his priority in life. As the first born son, his family invested in his university

education and he became the only one to graduate, with a degree in Philosophy. Ahmed occasionally

works at his father’s small kiosque near the centre, but his real vocation is being a politician, a

philosopher, a writer and an educator. As a member of the UDC National Bureau, the youngest in fact,

he goes around the country training unemployed graduates in social communication. He also

coordinates the Tunis bureau’s actions with the rest of the UDC network.

Ahmed has strong communication skills that allow him to somewhat transcend class, ideology and age

differences, at least when it concerns graduate unemployment. A Marxist himself, but no longer a

member of a party, he has had countless arguments with members of his family who either supported

Ben Ali or the Ennhada government. His father was a unionist leader, but had failed to prevent the

closure of his factory in the 1990s. Consequently, he is very skeptical about the effect that militancy can

have and often confronted his son. During the dictatorship, his parents tried to prevent him from being

an activist through coercion. Since the Revolution, however, they have felt freer to discuss politics and

he is now able to draw their attention towards some issues and raise awareness of power structures

within the Tunisian state.

Meanwhile, as a unionist he is in touch with various sectors of the population. His presence in the

field; at protests, in cafés and on the streets discussing with unemployed graduates and working-class

Tunisians of all ages gives him a solid understanding of the interests he defends in the union. He is also

65

just as capable of speaking to public officials and communicating in the media. One day, we met with a

French radio presenter with whom he discussed graduate unemployment; that same day we sat at the

same table with an illiterate activist in his mid-50s.

In a sense, Ahmed is the bridge between unemployed graduates and the rest of the world. His

knowledge of French is somewhat limited, but his strong cultural and political knowledge and ease at

communication compensates for that. Through his own personal experiences as a young man and a

political activist, he has come to terms with different beliefs and has become a very able debater.

Although he fundamentally disagrees with Islamism, he socializes with Islamists at the kiosque and

within the union.

The unemployed graduate activists I met spend most of the time with other unemployed graduates or

other activists. Nevertheless, the advent of free speech has enabled people of different class

backgrounds to communicate in some cases. Cosmopolitan sociability implies that people are ‘active

participants in the creation of common places… created through people’s meetings, encounters, civic

communication and coexistence (Glick-Schiller et al 2011: 403). The following episode relates to one of

these civic encounters, with reference to two very communicative friends from different class

backgrounds:

Islem, a journalist who worked for a major European news station, asked me for information on

graduate unemployment for a report she wanted to film. We decided to visit Ahmed at his father’s

kiosque where he was working that day while Islem interviewed him. Later, they both explained to me

that before the Revolution, everyone stayed in their own group or social class. They mentioned that

with their newfound freedom, Tunisians are now aware of the existence of these different groups but do

not understand them. They felt that this brought about a lot of insecurity and further distrust and

division as a result.

What was interesting about this encounter is the contradiction between what they were saying and

what was happening at that very moment. Islem is from a very wealthy family and has now become a

successful international journalist. Ahmed, on the other hand, is from a working-class background and is

unemployed. Yet they were both there, strongly agreeing on political issues and getting along well on a

personal note. What binds them together is their tolerance and ability to communicate. As a unionist,

Ahmed’s job is to be a communicator. As a journalist, Islem’s is to listen. Before the Revolution, this

encounter would not have taken place. Ahmed conducted similar activities, but clandestinely

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considering that the UDC was illegal. Furthermore, free press did not exist. Islem became a journalist as

a result of her involvement with French journalists who came to report on the Revolution. Before that,

she could not report freely without fear of scrutiny from the regime.

‘I cannot believe that a guy that smart has to work in a kiosque,’ Islem later shared with me. For her,

the shot she had taken of him selling things in the kiosque while discussing graduate

un(der)employment was perfect. It gave her report a powerful visual image to present the contrast

between graduates’ capabilities and the opportunities available to them. ‘You are so lucky to meet nice,

interesting people and hang out with them frequently. I concurred; I felt that I had met some

extraordinary communicative people who are obliged to engage in activities that do not reflect their

interests and dreams.

The Ben Ali regime’s policy of division affects young Tunisians’ communicative practices to this day,

simply because it imposed a model of societal interaction based on selfishness, miscommunication and

mistrust. From what I saw and what I was told, unemployed graduates rarely interact with wealthier

Tunisians in their everyday life because they live in different neighbourhoods and have different

interests.

The Revolution opened new platforms for political and social dialogue, most notably with the growth

of civil society. Unemployed graduate activists have been able to communicate their beliefs and

experiences with their parents, ideological opponents and wealthier Tunisians. National pride is strong

and creates unity in periods of crisis, however political conflicts have tended to exacerbate the divisions

between average Tunisians.

Nevertheless, civil society activism has enabled many of my informants to become strong

communicators who can dialogue with people with whom they share very few commonalities. What

unites them is that they are all Tunisian and that, in civil society organizations, many of them want to

achieve social change and the demands of the Revolution. Ahmed, the unionist, is a strong example of

this. The democratic transition will depend on such communicative practices; in fact they will need to be

emphasized because, as some informants suggested, democracy is unachievable as long as everybody is

divided and acts selfishly.

67

IX) Conclusion: Transition towards democracy or

lost hopes?

Research question: How do young educated unemployed male activists in Tunis experience the post-

revolutionary social environment, imagine their futures and reflect on the ‘democratic transition’? How

do they actively engage in civil society organizations and cosmopolitan sociability practices?

It is still too soon to tell what will come out of the Tunisian Revolution, and whether at all it is a

democratic revolution. If one thing is certain, it is that unemployed activists do not feel that they are

transitioning towards a better and fairer model of society since the Revolution. For many of the young

men I met, the economic situation is so difficult that they are constantly frustrated. The mismatch

between rising amount of graduates and the increasingly restricted job market have led them into a

permanent state of ‘waithood’. Meanwhile, they have to resort to jobs that do not match their

expectations of upward social mobility and do not provide the stability necessary to achieve a sense of

dignity.

Like in other contexts worldwide, the neoliberal discourse of self-responsibility, promoted by the

formal NGO sector since the Revolution, is making my informants accountable for their futures although

they have very limited opportunities and many institutions from the dictatorship era remain. Such

discourse and contradictions are not confined to Tunisia; indeed, in the UK David Cameron evoked this

with the notion of ‘Big Society’ and Dutch King William-Alexander praised the advent of the

‘Participatiesamenleving’ as the welfare state withers away.

The Revolution marked their first success in seeking change and showed that they are not just

‘waiting’. Much to the contrary, they are outspokenly claiming their social rights, but have yet to obtain

the change they desire. Like youth in other contexts, my informants did not care much about voting

because they distrust politicians’ will to improve their futures and have more pressing concerns such as

work and dignity. Their lack of social rights has created a new type of citizen: the activist citizen. Like in

several European and Latin American countries that democratized in the 1970s-80s, people do not feel

that they are full citizens with civil and political rights. Citizens of these countries often feel alienated by

the formal political system and are actively pursuing their social rights through other means (Assies,

Calderon and Salman 2005).

68

By becoming activist citizens, my informants are also contributing to democratic developments by

communicating with new people, learning new skills, creating new values and putting pressure on the

state to adapt to their demands. The Revolution raised more questions about society and politics than it

did provide answers, and young activists are now trying to understand rapid economic and political

changes. Conducting further research on unemployed graduates’ capabilities, their desired jobs and how

they feel they can get there would also enable them and policy-makers to start building towards the

future. The Social and Solidarity Economy is slowly gaining terrain in Tunisia and would be worth looking

into. Furthermore, research on community initiatives in other contexts of widespread employment (i.e.

Spain or Greece) could offer insight into alternative economic and political practices.

The key to Tunisia’s future, as many shared with me, is understanding. With free speech, new

opportunities have emerged to understand the current political, social and economic context, but also

understanding each other. Post-revolutionary societies cannot assume that democracy has somehow

been ‘achieved’ with the establishment of democratic institutions if people do not feel that their rights

are addressed and society is heavily divided. The growth of civil society has provided a platform for

young Tunisians to communicate about politics and society with people of different backgrounds and

beliefs; however these instances of cosmopolitan sociability remain few and dispersed as the

dictatorship’s legacy remains prevalent. My informants felt that Tunisians assimilate with those who are

similar to them and often fail to identify across class, ideological and generational boundaries. As many

Latin American cases show, the failures of inclusive economic relations and communicative practices

across divides of belief and social background within society create deep social tensions that endure

even thirty years after the transition to democracy. These failures continue to cause problems as diverse

as crime, police violence and a general fear of the ‘Other’.

My informants suggested that if Tunisia is to become a democracy, everything must change. Further

anthropological studies on societal interactions between Tunisians in every domain of public life will

contribute to a ‘smooth democratic transition’. I raised issues such as the job market, the education

sector, the political system, civil society organizations and family structures but there are many more

that young Tunisians feel should and could change. Understanding how these issues affect unemployed

graduates and societal interactions is essential to address problems as varied as suicide, gender relations

and terrorism, among other things, and can contextualize democratic practices or the lack thereof.

Activists and other young Tunisians need to understand the present and continue their fight for change,

69

rather than accepting the current state of things, because as political activist Azyz Amami once told me,

‘we are sentenced to hope’.

70

Executive Summary

In 2011, Tunisians overthrew the Ben Ali regime and are now in the process of democratic transition.

Young Tunisians, including unemployed graduates, were central to the revolutionary process.

Unemployment has reached over 45% for young graduates. A free and vibrant civil society grew out of

the Revolution. This study sheds light on male unemployed graduates’ employment situation, its effect

on their dreams and on their political and social practices. What rights do they want, how do they get

seek to obtain them and how does this contribute to establishing democratic practices in society?

There is a major contradiction between these young men’s dreams and their reality. University

education was traditionally a means to reach the middle-class by getting a public sector job, however

the state no longer hires enough graduates. In the meantime, they have to resort to temporary, part-

time and low-paid jobs and consider themselves unemployed as a result. Beyond material security,

unemployment and underemployment affects their lives by stopping them from having enough money

to move out of the house, get married and pursue their dreams.

Because they lack stable jobs, these young men become activists in NGOs and unions. In the process,

they become more employable and adhere to new values that are in contradiction with dominant

societal discourses. They feel that this is the only way of changing their futures since there are so few

opportunities and they distrust formal political institutions. Civil society activism allows them to gain

communication skills that help them understand people of different beliefs and backgrounds. This is

essential in the context of democratic transition because a democracy cannot function without dialogue

within society.

Looking into unemployed graduates’ capabilities, their desired jobs and how they feel they can get

there would also enable them and policy-makers to start building towards the future. The Social and

Solidarity Economy is slowly gaining terrain in Tunisia and could be a solution out of the current

employment crisis. Furthermore, establishing a democracy will require there being less tensions within

society. For that to happen, the lack of social rights of marginalized members of society, such as

unemployed graduates, will need to be addressed. Doing so will allow policy-makers to tackle problems

as diverse as terrorism and the lack of economic growth.

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The relevance of this research goes beyond Tunisia. In fact, graduate unemployment has become a

major issue ranging from China to the United Kingdom and many more. Social cohesion in the future is

highly reliant on the ability for countries to integrate young people into society. In addition,

understanding economic relations and how people interact within democratic transitions will avoid

future situations of crisis and social tension as witnessed in countries that were assumed to be

consolidated democracies, such as Brazil, Spain, Greece and others.

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Appendix 1 Interview questions

How old are you? Where do you live? With who? Has being young ever disadvantaged you? Why? What do your parents do in life? What is their study level? Do you talk about sociopolitical issues at home? Do you have different views? What did you study? Why did you choose to go to university and why did you choose those studies? What did they teach you? What have you done since the end of your studies? What did you expect to do at the end of your studies? Do you have professional experience? Did you do any extra training? Are you looking for work? In what sector? Do you get help? Why do you think there is a lack of jobs in Tunisia? What can we do to fix this? Are you interested in social / political issues? Since when? Did you vote in 2011 or in 2009? For who? Are you satisfied? Will you vote next time? What organizations are you a part of? Since when? What do you do for it? How much time do you spend on it ? Does this limit your ability to find work / study? What were your expectations in joining? Were they fulfilled? What did you learn from it? Did you meet people that were very different to you? How do you spend an ordinary day? Has this changed since the Revolution? What do you hope to be doing in 10 years? (Dream job / lifestyle) Did your studies help you achieve that? If I asked the same question before the Revolution what would your answer be? Are you Muslim? (Initially I asked ‘are you a believer?’ and ‘do you practice?’ but two interviewees failed to answer the questions for being too personal) Are you proud of being Tunisian? What most? When did you feel proudest? Have you ever thought of leaving? Who do you feel most at ease with? When do you feel the most fulfilled? What do you think the ‘Tunisian mentality’ is? (This question was added after several people referred to a ‘mentality problem’ in Tunisia). Why are Tunisians like that? How can we change this? What does citizenship mean to you? Do you feel a responsibility towards others? What was your view of this before the Revolution? What rights do you feel you have as a citizen? Do you do something to obtain them? What was your view of this before the Revolution? What are Tunisia’s biggest problems today? How about before the Revolution? What were your expectations of the Revolution? Do you think it was a Revolution? Are your expectations accessible? What is democracy for you? Is it desirable? Could Tunisia be a democracy? Why? What do you think of the new Constitution?