Voices of change in the Middle East

This year marks the the 10th anniversary of the outburst of the so-called Arab Spring. According to popular media narrative, it has turned into a miserable failure.

And who could deny it, looking at the shape that countries like Syria (civil war), Lybia (civil war), and Egypt (possibly the worst dictatorship on the face of the earth at this moment) are in?

Allow me to add a little nuance to this grim verdict.

Yes, from a political point of view, the Arab Spring has resulted in tragedy, but there's also a less known but certainly not less important mental and cultural spring which seems to persevere.

The uprisings in countries like Lebanon, Iraq, Algeria, Iran and notably Sudan, largely ignored by western media, suggest that the collective apathy that had prevailed for decades in the Middle East, has definitely disappeared.

'People have woken up' is what you hear throughout the region, so the struggle may be long, but it's not over. Besides, arts and culture undeniably have started to blossom in the past decade in the Middle East, which again is a sign that its  societies have become more vibrant, creative and intense under the influence of all the political uncertainty and frustration.

I wrote the story 'Voices of change', which mostly is about altenative Arab journalism, a few years ago. I don't think it is  outdated. Most of the outlets I mention are still in business, flourishing even, with the exception, alas, of the most beautifully crafted one, The Outpost in Lebanon - though its founder, Ibrahim Nehme, is plotting a relaunch.

To conclude: I still am convinced that the Arab Spring is not dead. Indeed it still is very visible in parts, and where it isn't, I am sure it has gone in hiding - in hibernation, if you will, waiting for the opportunity to manifest itself again.

After all, spring is a period of great instability, and historical springs have a tendency to last a long time.     

Carl Stellweg

A civil society progressing against the odds, and interesting new media to go with it: maybe it’s not all gloom in the Arab world.

They’re idealists – sometimes even deliberately shunning professionalism. Creative spirits, often operating under the radar of mass media. Dreamers, but also skeptics. And though many of them lack a proper journalistic background, they could well represent a new kind of journalism, for a new Middle East.

Maybe they’re part of a vaster trend: a kind of ‘silent’ Arab Spring, progressing against the odds, flourishing despite the bloodshed and confusion and oppression, the disillusion about the outcome of the uprisings.

Ever since the Arab revolutions started, there's been a stark increase in the region of innovative groups, movements, organizations and creative tech startups: at least according to Maryam Jamshidi, lawyer and author of The future of the Arab Spring. 

There are no hard data to corroborate her assertions, but there's no shortage of concrete examples in her book either: citizen councils, campaigners, filmmakers’ collectives, medical assistance or carpooling services, music groups and radio stations, app developers, to name but a few. 

And they’re holding on, despite unfavorable turns of events, like the restoration of a military regime in Egypt and an atrocious civil war in Syria.

The offices of digital ad agency The Planet in Cairo (© Jonathan Kalan)

'This is what makes the Arab revolutions unique,’ Jamshidi says. ‘In previous revolutions, like the one in Iran in 1979, ordinary people organized themselves too. But it's the scale on which people in the Arab world are doing this, the way they’re teaching each other to become more engaged citizens, developing a sense of responsibility to their societies, locally and nationally, that’s quite unprecedented.’

 The phenomenon is connected to the sentiments that drove the revolutions, specifically the calls for dignity, freedom, and social justice. Apparently, these have not lost their appeal. 

And so, ‘even while large-scale political and economic changes have failed to deliver, the movement of active citizenship has managed to take root and flourish,’ Jamshidi says.

It’s hard to pin down what exactly makes this Arab revolution stand out. It probably has something to do with technology. 

In the last decade, internet penetration has increased by more than 400 percent in the Arab world. At the start of 2004, only 28 million people were online. Today, their numbers have expanded to about 140 million. 

At the same time, 90 percent of Arabs between 18 and 30 years of age – a dominant demographic group in the Middle East – think that ‘access to the internet and mobile digital technology can help them realize their personal aspirations for employment, entrepreneurial opportunities, education, banking and healthcare’. 

That is, according to a study conducted by the Qatar-based telecommunications provider Ooredoo.

In other words: the Middle East is brimming with young, tech-savvy people who may be cynical about the state of their societies, but are nonetheless hopeful about the future.

Interestingly, there’s a simultaneous increase of independent media with an offbeat approach. It would be simplistic to automatically see each of them as an integral part of the grassroots movement Jamshidi describes. Some of them are, some of them aren't. 

But, importantly, all of them seem to feel connected with it. All of them reflect it in some way, by being voices of change. 

Take Jadaliyya, an e–zine that gained prominence in the last five years - which is all the more remarkable since its academic content isn’t the stuff the public at large easily digests, and the layout could be called eccentric. 

Jadaliyya essentially is a concerted effort of a bunch of academics of Arab descent seeking to make their work more accessible. They wanted to fill a gap between quick but superficial media on the one hand and scholarly journals which take a frustratingly long time to be published on the other. 

And they’ve succeeded spectacularly, since their site, an eclectic mishmash in four languages of academic analysis, reviews, reportage, poetry, and much more, is read daily by tens of thousands of people in more than 200 countries, and its facebook reach is 2 million a week on average.

It is enough to yield a handsome income, but that would run counter to the purpose of Jadaliyya. 

‘We deliberately haven’t embarked on a business project,’ Bassam Haddad, 45, a Lebanese-born scholar and co-editor of Jadaliyya, vows. ‘We want to produce alternative analysis and knowledge, and assist others who wish to do the same. We can offer them years of experience, since we took our time to realize Jadaliyya, which means we now have a valuable, indigenously rooted network that others can tap into for their own benefit.  We’ve jettisoned the idea of competition, because if we hadn’t done that, we’d have risked to become mainstream ourselves and lose most of the people who’ve grown fond of us.’

The question is who these ‘people’ are. Does Jadaliyya appeal to the Arab street? That seems unlikely. But what makes it different from ordinary elitist outlets is the massive way it has mobilized an educated readership, starting from nothing. 

And that’s not all: according to Haddad it has shown it can be influential by attracting the attention of international mainstream media as a one stop shop for quality information. ‘They follow us closely, retweet and share our material. Well, if we can add some depth to their reporting, we gladly oblige.’     

Sharing the same ethos in this quest for depth and alternative narratives is The Outpost, an English language print magazine from Lebanon, founded three years ago. 

‘A magazine of possibilities’ is how it advertises itself; meaning that the Arab world it portrays is not exactly the ‘real’ Arab world. Rather it is an Arab world the makers have in mind for the future and try to convey in meticulously crafted, artfully illustrated productions, meant to trigger the imagination.

 In one of the editions, for instance, it is contended that the Arab world on the surface looks homogenous, but that many people are painfully disconnected. The possibilities for physical encounters are limited because of poor infrastructure and political obstacles. 

Ibrahim Nehme (29), editor of The Outpost and a Lebanese citizen, for example needs a visa to visit most Arab countries. And so a network of high speed railways for the whole Arab world is conceived and broadly and colorfully displayed in The Outpost.

Like Jadaliyya, The Outpost does not recruit its readers in the Arab Street. But it isn't destined for a traditional elite either. Rather it seems to appeal to a young, burgeoning middle class, partially the kind of people that provoked or supported the Arab uprisings. People who still do not feel represented or heard.

'For me, The Outpost is a much needed breath of fresh air in a market that is saturated with mediocrity, ' says 25-year old environmental sciences graduate Sami Serhan from Beirut. 'What attracts me about it is what it stands for beyond the confines of its pages: hope.’

So what's so mediocre about the media market in general? 

‘I think that anyone who is an advocate of independent media is so because of a sense of disenchantment towards the status quo,’ Sami responds. ‘A state of cultural depravity which is mirrored in Arab media, with very few exceptions. Celebrity gossip and recycled political rhetoric dominate the magazine and newspaper stands.’

Western mainstream media aren't much better, according to Sami. ‘I think that depictions of the Arab world by these media are almost comically varied: we're either a charity case and a vehicle for the alleviation of western guilt, or a threat to ourselves and the "free" world.’

The list goes on. There’s Mashallah News, for example, belonging to the same family as The Outpost and Jadaliyya, and certainly equally committed to combat stereotypes. 

It is  a trilingual e-zine, also founded in Lebanon, by young people who felt that some voices were left unheard. 

Playfully calling themselves a platform for ‘disOriented news’, they’re a collective of bloggers and journalists who say they’re tired of ‘Lawrence of Arabia, CNN, camels, Samuel Huntington, and flying carpets’ - to quote the ‘about us’ on their site.

 Their remedy against the myths and clichés they perceive seems uncomplicated, yet subtle.

‘We’re not trying to present a coherent image of the Middle East. If we did, we ourselves would indulge in the kind of simplifications of which there are too many as it is,' says co-editor Sophie Chamas, 27. 

‘Instead, we’re exposing our audiences to a much more complex outlook, by telling seemingly simple, local, parochial, personal stories that allow for greater nuance. A good example is a story we ran about a Syrian refugee in Italy ('They call him Peppino'), that really reveals a lot about the Syrian conflict.’

Chamas could also have mentioned an article by herself, that earned her a ‘Mediterranean journalist award’ from the Anna Lindh Foundation. It’s a piece about the Hebrew classes she took as a Lebanese, about learning the ‘language of the enemy.’ A personal examination of twisted perceptions, in a situation where there’s no outright hostility, like language class.

There are more examples of such online or offline magazines, like Kalimat or Mada Masr. Again, what binds them is an allegiance to this rise of civil society that Maryam Jamshidi summarizes in her book. 

Ibrahim Nehme of The Outpost feels part of ‘this movement, this dynamic that’s going on but often gets overlooked’. If he hadn’t started The Outpost, he would have left the country, but now there’s no way he’s going to abandon the project.

And though he draws a bleak picture of Arab society, he, too, is hopeful. ‘People who want change are allowed just enough space to express themselves. It’s up to them to keep increasing that space, which is what is happening at the moment.’

Bassam Haddad does worry about the future of the “Arab Spring”, a term he doesn’t even like since it alludes to ‘something flowery and meaningless’. 

‘These grassroots folks are bright islands of hope, but they’re not going to be alright just because they’re nice. Sometimes they’re caught up in complex struggles, like the liberated communities in Syria, that now have to deal with jihadists. And there are other actors inside and outside the region who are not sympathetic to them.’

So how can new media help safeguard the future of the “Arab Spring”? There may be lots of ways, none of them easy. 

‘We want to besiege and eventually weaken the corrupted and oppressive socio-political powers with stories that offer an alternative,’  Nehme proposes, ‘but that will obviously be a long struggle.’ 

And Haddad: ‘One of the things we’re doing is building a podcast on our site that will bring together activists from, say, Tunisia, Yemen, and Lebanon. There’s one thing we won’t do, though: give good advice. Good advice is not the thing that’s lacking. Giving a voice is.’

Street scene in - you guessed it - Beirut.