Why Alliances Fail: Islamist and Leftist Coalitions in North Africa [Paperback ed.] 081563613X, 9780815636137

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Why Alliances Fail

Modern Intellectual and Political History of the Middle East Fred H. Lawson, Series Editor

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Why Alliances Islamist and Leftist Coalitions in North Africa

Matt Buehler

Syracuse University Press

Fail

Published in collaboration with Georgetown University–Qatar’s Center for International and Regional Studies. Copyright © 2018 by Syracuse University Press Syracuse, New York 13244-5290 All Rights Reserved First Edition 2018 18  19  20  21  22  23    6  5  4  3  2  1 ∞ The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1992. For a listing of books published and distributed by Syracuse University Press, visit www.SyracuseUniversityPress.syr.edu. ISBN: 978-0-8156-3607-6 (hardcover) 978-0-8156-3613-7 (paperback) 978-0-8156-5458-2 (e-book) Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Buehler, Matt, author. Title: Why alliances fail : Islamist and leftist coalitions in North Africa / Matt Buehler. Description: Syracuse, NY : Syracuse University Press, 2018. | Series: Modern intellectual and political history of the Middle East | "Published in collaboration with Georgetown University– Qatar's Center for International and Regional Studies." | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018040637 (print) | LCCN 2018042578 (ebook) | ISBN 9780815654582 (e-book) | ISBN 9780815636076 (hardcover : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780815636137 (pbk. : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Coalitions—Africa, North. | Opposition (Political science)—Africa, North. | Political parties—Africa, North. | Africa, North—Politics and government—21st century. Classification: LCC JQ3198.A979 (ebook) | LCC JQ3198.A979 B84 2018 (print) | DDC 320.96109051—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018040637 Manufactured in the United States of America

To my parents, Mark and Peggy Buehler

Contents List of Illustration and Tables  Acknowledgments 

Introduction 

 

 

ix

xi

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1

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1. Understanding Alliances

Toward a Social Theory of Opposition Politics 

 

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2. Rural Regimes, Urban Regimes

Divergent Pathways of Regime Formation 

 

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13 39

3. All about the Base

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances in North Africa 

 

52

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4. Zooming Out

National-Level Alliances in Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania 

5. Zooming In

Subnational Alliances in Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania 

 

 

121

 

159

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6. Resurrecting Alliances?

Left-Islamist Coalitions in the Arab Uprisings and Aftermath 

Conclusion 

 

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190

Appendix A. Utilized Arabic and French Newspapers and Magazines  Appendix B. Cited Interviews  Notes 

  221 Bibliography  ■  253 Index  ■  275 ■

85

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217

 

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215

Illustration and Tables Illustration 1. Left-Islamist alliances in North Africa 

 

27

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Tables 1. Cases of alliance formation and endurance  2. Conceptualizing alliance formation 

  3. Conceptualizing alliance endurance  ■  ■

 

21

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23 23

4. Collapsible and enduring left-Islamist alliances in North Africa  5. Social bases of Moroccan leftists and Islamists 

 

67

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6. Social bases of Mauritanian leftists and Islamists 

 

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80

 

124

7. Logit of co-optation of leftist politicians by Morocco’s loyalist parties  ■  106 8. Mauritanian Islamist mayors and co-optation by Abdel Aziz’s loyalist party  ■  119 9. Comparing voter turnout in Moroccan elections 

ix

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28

Acknowledgments While a book’s byline often includes only one author’s name, it is in reality not the product of a single, sole author. In fact, it emerges from the combined efforts of a multitude of individuals and institutions. I am thankful that numerous people and institutions both in the United States and overseas supported this book until completion. While I take responsibility for whatever errors or omissions remain herein, I would like to recognize those people and institutions that contributed to its publication. My first thanks go to individuals at the Department of Government at the University of Texas at Austin. First and foremost, I would like to thank Jason Brownlee. Jason was an ideal mentor not only in the sagacious advice he shared but also in his professional comportment—his creativity, meticulousness, and work ethic. The best mentors lead by example, and no one does that better than Jason in his own indefatigable commitment to and passion for excellence in scholarship and teaching. Clement Henry inspired my interest in North Africa at the University of Texas and has been a reliable source of advice ever since. I fondly recall visiting Clem after he joined the American University of Cairo. We discussed Tunisian politics of the 1950s and 1960s in the dark while tolerating Cairo’s intermittent electrical blackouts following the 2013 coup d’état. Even today, when I get stuck with a problem or obstacle, thinking about how either of these two men would handle the situation always helps me find the right path. Other individuals—Joshua Stacher, Mounira Charrad, Ami Pedahzur, and Catherine Boone—similarly provided comments that helped me clarify some of this book’s ideas and refine its core argument. Initial revisions of this book occurred, primarily, at three institutions where I encountered new colleagues who furnished crucial advice and xi

xii  ■  Acknowledgments

guidance. At the Edmund A. Walsh School of Foreign Service at Georgetown University in Qatar, I thank Mehran Kamrava, Zahra Babar, and the Center for International and Regional Studies (CIRS). From Mehran, I learned to think about myself not only as a scholar but also as a writer. He showed me how a book’s discussion of complex ideas should not obstruct the fluidity and power of its prose. I enjoyed my time in Doha and with CIRS tremendously. The organization’s tireless commitment to supporting and producing original, empirically grounded research in the Middle East serves as an example for us all. I am also very grateful to CIRS for furnishing a subvention grant for this book after passing peer review and including it within its book series, both of which helped expand its distribution. The Department of Political Science at the University of Tennessee contributed by organizing a book workshop with Francesco Cavatorta, Jillian Schwedler, and Curtis Ryan. These scholars provided in-depth commentary at a critical stage of revisions. My departmental colleague Jana Morgan also attended, contributed invaluable feedback, and first conceived the book’s title, Why Alliances Fail. My department head, Richard Pacelle, bankrolled the workshop and has been a key supporter of my work and professional advancement. Few people are lucky enough to have such a good boss. Curtis Bell, Ian Down, Patricia Freeland, Kyung Joon Han, Wonjae Hwang, Nathan Kelly, Anthony Nownes, Brandon Prins, Krista Wiegand, and other department colleagues furnished advice on chapters of this book and other related projects. I also express gratitude for the support of the University of Tennessee’s Howard H. Baker Jr. Center for Public Policy and its director, Matthew Murray. Final revisions occurred in 2017 at the Middle East Initiative at Harvard University’s Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs at the John F. Kennedy School of Government. There, I interacted with Jonah Schulhofer-Wohl, Elizabeth Nugent, and other fellows who enriched my research. I am particularly grateful to Tarek Masoud and Melani Cammett, who shared their wisdom and expertise with me in workshops, and Nicholas Burns and Hilary Rantisi, who hosted me as the program’s administrative directors. This manuscript also received feedback at various conferences and workshops. Therein, I received advice on the book and related projects

Acknowledgments  ■  xiii

from professional colleagues. Whereas some of these colleagues contributed direct advice to the manuscript, others provided more indirect feedback by way of conference papers and article manuscripts during peer review. Other colleagues were discussants and copanelists at conferences, compatriots during fieldwork, or coparticipants in writers’ circles. Specifically, I thank these individuals: Holger Albrecht, Lindsay Benstead, Dina Bishara, Steven Brooke, Laryssa Chomiak, Sabri Ciftci, Janine Clark, Daniel Corstange, John Entelis, Sarah Feuer, Kim Guiler, Ian Hartshorn, Ahmed Khanani, Ricardo René Larémont, Adria Lawrence, Bill Lawrence, Marc Lynch, Bruce Maddy-Weitzman, Nadia Marzouki, James Miller, Jocelyn Sage Mitchell, Pete Moore, Fait Muedini, Paul Musgrave, Zekeria Ould Ahmed Salem, Sarah Parkinson, Erin Pettigrew, Stacey Philbrick-Yadav, Alan Rutenberg, Stuart Schaar, Abye Tasse, Ann Marie Wainscott, and Steven Ward. Over the years other colleagues provided more general professional advice in correspondences, lunches, and various other interactions, notably Mhammed Abderebbi, Zoltan Barany, Michael Herb, Wendy Hunter, Amaney Jamal, Manal Jamal, Stephen Juan King, Ellen Lust, Helen Milner, John Scheb, Tobias Schumacher, Mark Tessler, Frédéric Volpi, and Kurt Weyland. Syracuse University Press also recruited excellent anonymous peer reviewers for the book. I am very thankful that these individuals carefully read it and provided such helpful, constructive, and thorough comments. This book’s acquisition editor with Syracuse University Press, Alison Shay, and the editor of the Modern Intellectual and Political History of the Middle East series, Fred Lawson, also provided crucial comments. Also at Syracuse, I thank Lisa Kuerbis, Fred Wellner, and Annette Wenda for completing the book’s marketing materials, its front cover, and its copy editing. I would also like to acknowledge and thank photojournalist Mohammed El Hamzaoui for permitting me to use his photo for the book’s cover. I also thank Mediterranean Politics and British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies for allowing me to use small selections of previously published material. Again, although all remaining mistakes in this book are my own, I am thankful for whatever feedback and assistance these aforementioned people furnished. I apologize if someone was omitted. Several additional organizations should be recognized for providing either financial, logistical, or administrative support for this book,

xiv  ■  Acknowledgments

namely, the American Institute for Maghreb Studies, the Project on Middle East Political Science, the Boren Fellowship, the Moroccan-American Commission for Educational and Cultural Exchange, the Centre d’Etudes Maghrébines à Tunis, the University of Nouakchott, the University of Texas at Austin, and the University of Tennessee. Numerous people in North Africa also contributed to this book. Unfortunately, not all of them can be thanked here. I thank all of the leftist and Islamist politicians, party officials, and staffers who talked with me, helped me find reliable information, and provided their insights. I would, however, like to recognize those people who provided exceptional help during my time in North Africa, notably Réda Oulamine, Ihssan el-Hafidi, Mustapha el-Khalfi, Rachid Lazrak, Oubeid Imijine, and the journalists of as-Sabah newspaper. I also thank Morocco’s at-Tajdid newspaper and Mauritania’s La Tribune newspaper for permitting me to access their back-issue archives. Finally, completing this manuscript would have been difficult without the many years of Arabic training I received in the United States and Arab world. Thus, I am especially thankful for the Arabic instruction I received from the faculty at the University of Damascus in Syria, where I also met my future wife, Elodie Dabbagh Buehler. Without her support and love, this book would not have been possible. Our son, Thomas, joined along the way and has thankfully distracted me from work and writing, reminding me of the joy of simple things in life. I also want to thank my three brothers—Chris, Josh, and Zach—and the Buehler and Dabbagh families. Finally, my deepest gratitude go to my parents, Mark and Peggy, who provided invaluable financial, logistical, and emotional support. But most important, they imparted me with the tenacity and grit necessary to bring a project like this to completion.

Why Alliances Fail

Introduction From the Persian Gulf in the East to Morocco’s Atlantic coast in the West, Arab autocrats faced unprecedented popular uprisings against their regimes beginning in late 2010. What resulted was that four dictators— Tunisia’s Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali, Egypt’s Hosni Mubarak, Yemen’s Ali Abdullah Saleh, and Libya’s Muammar Gaddafi—fell from power. Optimism soared that these countries might become democracies. Yet by 2014 it was clear that only one state, Tunisia, had transitioned from authoritarianism to democracy successfully. Many of Tunisia’s neighbors either reverted to authoritarianism, Egypt, or descended into chaos, Libya and Yemen. For millions of citizens, the conclusion to the story of the Arab uprisings was not one of democratization. Although Tunisia’s young democracy still faces challenges, a number of factors—including higher levels of military professionalism and economic development—made its transition far more successful. One crucial, understudied factor that aided Tunisia was that a stable alliance of opposition parties with divergent ideological backgrounds supported the transition. Such a coalition—what scholars have termed a “cross-­ideological alliance”—consolidated in 2005 long before Tunisia’s revolution broke out, contributed to its success in 2011, and shepherded the country through its aftermath until 2014. Tunisia’s opposition parties succeeded in maintaining an alliance to contest the authoritarian regime when it was still standing strong and to provide an alternative, once it had collapsed. In cases of democratization, such opposition alliances have often played a pivotal role. When opposition parties can get together to build an alliance, especially one that endures over time, they can harmonize demands, pool resources, and exert collective pressure.1 Yet when parties act alone, 1

2  ■  Why Alliances Fail

regimes more easily marginalize them. For Tunisia, much like instances of democratization in Latin America, sub-Saharan Africa, and eastern Europe, the fact that opposition parties with divergent ideologies built a durable, long-term alliance aided its successful democratic transition. Across the developing world, an alliance’s success or failure to endure over time often paralleled the success or failure of broader efforts to bring regime change and, ultimately, democratization. After Ben Ali fled, Tunisia’s opposition coalition appeared on the scene and announced its name, the Troika Alliance. Although Tunisia’s opposition parties had begun cooperating in a coalition in the mid-2000s long before Ben Ali’s downfall, the regime’s collapse attracted attention to their alliance. Whereas some Tunisians criticized the Troika as a threeheaded monster of ideological contradictions, others endorsed it as an exemplar of compromise. The Troika was a coalition of strange, unexpected allies: it featured a pact between Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists. With Ben Ali’s regime gone, the leftists and Islamists mobilized their alliance based on strategic logic. “On today’s political scene, parties are not divided by ideology,” Samir Ben Amor, secretary general of one of the leftist parties, said. “The real division is between the parties of the revolution and those that opposed it. Between the parties that struggled for the revolution, and those that did not take honorable positions towards it.”2 In two of Tunisia’s neighbors, Morocco and Mauritania, a similar story unfolded, albeit with a different result in alliance stability. Modeling Tunisia, citizens in Morocco launched protests on February 20, 2011, in more than fifty cities. Casablanca and Rabat experienced the largest demonstrations—sixteen thousand and eight thousand protesters, respectively. Nouakchott, Mauritania’s capital, saw small protests on February 25, but they swelled to more than ninety thousand participants by 2012. In Morocco’s secondary cities, protests were smaller but more violent.3 In a mining city, rioters stormed the state phosphate company, took two managers hostage, and left $13 million in damage.4 Though the unrest of Morocco and Mauritania neither matched that of Tunisia or Egypt nor led to the bloodshed of Bahrain or Syria, it produced exceptional instability unseen in decades.5 The unrest created a unique situation wherein leftists

Introduction  ■  3

and Islamists could have coordinated their opposition. It could have been a catalyzing moment for opposition parties to build alliances. How did Morocco’s and Mauritania’s leftists and Islamists react to this surging unrest? Like Tunisia’s Troika, did leftists and Islamists unite in stable alliances to push for change? The short answer is no. Although Morocco’s and Mauritania’s leftists and Islamists had experimented with alliances in the late 2000s, which ultimately failed, they were not revitalized in 2011 to mobilize for reform. The long answer is more complicated. It requires us to delve into the political histories of these opposition parties to explain why some have become gradually more vulnerable to regime co-optation. That is the purpose of this book. It aims to explain why Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists united in an enduring alliance to spearhead change in national politics, while Morocco’s and Mauritania’s did not. In succumbing to the co-optation strategies of Morocco’s and Mauritania’s authoritarian regimes, some parties have become weak opposition organizations and, hence, unreliable allies in coalitions. Unlike in Tunisia, leftists and Islamists did not unite to back protests in Morocco. Morocco’s Islamist party entered the protests, while its leftist party did not. Fearful that publicly supporting protests could provoke regime repression, the Islamist party’s president, Abdelilah Benkirane, did not endorse the protests officially.6 Yet unofficially, his party’s supporters flooded the protests. A majority of the Islamist party’s leaders,7 and even its mild-mannered former president,8 joined the protests by March 2011. Even Islamist leaders who did not protest expressed support. “Only pressure from the street,” the Islamists’ parliamentary leader asserted, “would force the implementation of true reforms.”9 While it would be an overstatement to say that Morocco’s Islamist party caused the uprisings, or that its members constituted a majority of protesters, it is clear many of its leaders and especially its youth wing participated in or endorsed the demonstrations.10 Morocco’s main leftist party had been the regime’s chief opponent between the 1960s and the 1990s. In 1998 a leftist became prime minister, inaugurating alternance (at-tanaawub), which was the first time an oppositionist became the head of government by election. The leftist party was less assertive by 2011, however. Speaking to the party’s general assembly,

4  ■  Why Alliances Fail

its octogenarian president announced that “the objectives of Morocco’s protestors were a copy” of the leftist party’s demands from earlier decades. “For years, our party has been ready to seize this opportunity, and we will benefit from this situation.”11 But the leftist party declined to take action, and its president announced that it would not support protests. Few leftist leaders demonstrated or endorsed the protests. A similar dynamic occurred in Mauritania. However, in this Arab country sandwiched between Morocco and Senegal, the Islamists were the unreliable allies, not the leftists. While leftists and Islamists had built alliances in the late 2000s, these partnerships had been short and fragile. The two opposition parties had allied in August 2008 to resist a coup, but the Islamists withdrew from the coalition less than a year later. The Islamists resurrected the alliance in 2012, but they abandoned it, again, within months. Mauritania’s Islamists have had irregular, sporadic commitment to alliances with leftists. Although numerous differences distinguish Tunisia from Morocco and Mauritania, the latter two did not share in the former’s democratization success, in part because of the absence of stable, enduring left-Islamist alliances in national politics. This book traces how regime strategies of co-optation caused alliance collapse in Morocco and Mauritania. It explains why alliances failed. Surprisingly, however, this trend of alliance failure by regime cooptation did not hold for all domains of politics. In larger cities and labor unions in Morocco and Mauritania, leftists and Islamists succeeded in building stable alliances that predated and endured the 2011 Arab uprisings. In these domains of politics, leftists and Islamists allied to assert common demands and push for reforms. When regimes sought to spoil their alliances through co-optation, they resisted and maintained coalitions. This puzzle motivates this book’s central question: Under what conditions do alliances between leftists and Islamists succeed or fail? The Argument: The Rural Basis of Divide and Rule To answer this question, this book uncovers the circumstances under which opposition parties succeed or fail to build durable, long-term alliances. Success is defined as an alliance’s capacity to endure over time,

Introduction  ■  5

while failure is when it collapses. This book introduces a new theory of alliance durability, tests it with original evidence from left-Islamist coalitions in North Africa, and discusses its applicability to other Arab countries. This book argues that the nature of an opposition party’s social base—the grassroots constituencies upon which it depends—shapes the robustness of its alliances. When an opposition party with urban origins absorbs new rural constituencies mired in illiteracy and entangled in clientelist hierarchies, then it falls vulnerable to co-optation and, thus, becomes a weak alliance partner. By explaining why left-Islamist alliances succeed or fail, this book is about opposition coordination in the Arab world. But it is also about the phenomenon of co-optation and what constellation of social forces enhances the efficacy of this strategy of regime control. By developing a theory that emphasizes an opposition party’s social base, and its importance for regime co-optation, this book engages three major theories that seek to explain alliance failure. The first theory stresses ideological conflict, arguing that discord over programs, policies, and values can cause alliances between opposition parties to collapse.12 A second theory concentrates on commitment problems between parties: because parties cannot credibly commit to refrain from betraying each other, such mutual mistrust causes alliances to fail.13 The final theory emphasizes the authoritarian regime and how it engineers its internal institutions to break alliances. By manipulating laws that control electoral participation and party legality, a regime can shatter opposition alliances.14 This book examines these theories for alliance durability, showing their strengths and shortcomings in explaining why coalitions have succeeded or failed in North Africa. To show what fosters durability in alliances, we need to understand the social origins not only of the opposition parties that make them but also of the authoritarian regimes that break them. Since the postcolonial era, the states of Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania have followed different pathways in regime formation. Whereas Tunisia centered its authoritarian regime in urban areas and the middle class, it uprooted the rural social structures upon which political power was traditionally built. Morocco and Mauritania reinforced such rural social structures. Like

6  ■  Why Alliances Fail

other developing world autocracies, these two latter regimes consolidated power, as Catherine Boone writes, by “partnerships and brokerage relations with nonstate authorities in rural areas” who “had power and influence over ordinary farmers who were their followers, clients, kinsfolk, and subjects.”15 Traditional politicians based in the countryside became these regimes’ core supporters. Given diverging legacies of their formation, these regimes adopted different tactics to deal with opposition alliances in the 2000s. Legacies of regime formation conditioned regimes’ strategies of divide and rule. Because Tunisia’s regime had marginalized traditional social structures in rural areas vital to authoritarian rule in Morocco and Mauritania, it chose direct repression—rather than indirect co-optation—to combat alliances between leftists and Islamists. Morocco’s and Mauritania’s regimes, by contrast, used subtler strategies of co-optation to break alliances. These regimes exploited the fact that some opposition parties had been gradually drawn into the politics of rural areas. Traditional politicians affiliated with the leftist party, in Morocco, and the Islamist party, in Mauritania, were co-opted away from their opposition parties and integrated into loyalist parties of authoritarian regimes. Subsequently, loyalist parties rewarded these opposition politicians who had defected from their parties by giving the constituencies of their districts greater clientelist benefits. Over time, this process of co-optation has made Morocco’s leftists and Mauritania’s Islamists far less assertive opposition parties. By exploiting an opposition party’s rural social base, regimes can carry out their strategy of co-optation and woo oppositionists away from alliances, causing coalitions to fail. This book uncovers the conditions under which opposition parties succumb to co-optation and regimes can execute this strategy of control most effectively. Even when one of the opposition parties depends on such a rural social base, it is possible that an alliance may still form for short-term, strategic reasons. But it is unlikely to endure over time. In effect, a strategic reason was a necessary but not alone a sufficient condition for an alliance to succeed. For these cases of coalitions in North Africa, a change in the political opportunity structure—usually a common threat—initiated alliances between leftists and Islamists. However, an urban social base provided the

Introduction  ■  7

anchor that made it durable over time. Indeed, in the domains of politics in which leftists and Islamists did not acquire rural social bases and retained their historic urban ones, in labor unions and city governments, the opposition parties built durable, long-term alliances. Such enduring alliances are crucial because they create a platform from which opposition parties can agitate for change against authoritarian regimes, oversee their country during democratic transitions, and construct new governments in the uncertain years thereafter. What is needed is a theory that explains variation in the durability of alliances that accounts for both strategic reasons and deeper social structural influences. Original Evidence To test this new theory that explains the durability of opposition alliances, this book compares three types of coalitions between leftists and Islamists. Together, this comparative approach covers three North African countries and analyzes nine different cases of alliances (coalitions in national, labor, and city politics). Left-Islamist alliances did not endure equally, however. Cases existed in which alliances formed and endured over time, formed and then collapsed in less than a year, or did not form at all. By examining the sources behind this variation in alliance durability, this book advances new approaches in comparative politics wherein controlled comparisons are conducted not only across states but also within them, in different subnational arenas of contestation.16 Evidence for the book was gathered over almost two years of fieldwork in North Africa in which both qualitative and quantitative methods were used to collect information from primary Arabic-based sources. Nearly two hundred field interviews, which provide this book’s foundation, were conducted in Arabic. About 70–80 percent of interviews were completed with leftist and Islamist politicians, whereas 20–30 percent were done with secondhand observers, like journalists.17 Interviewees included the first Islamist prime minister in Moroccan history, Abdelilah Benkirane. They also included seventeen other past or current ministers, scores of parliamentary deputies, local politicians, party officials, and unionists.18 Utilizing professional connections from interning as a translator journalist at

8  ■  Why Alliances Fail

as-Sabah Arabic newspaper in 2009, I located interlocutors.19 This identified key decision makers who had intimate knowledge about how alliances were negotiated, how their terms finalized, and why they succeeded or failed. Arabic and French primary documents from the parties confirmed interview-based evidence. Four months of research in the archives of two newspapers, Morocco’s Arabic at-Tajdid and Mauritania’s French La Tribune, also verified information.20 As is increasingly common in works of Middle East politics,21 and comparative politics more generally,22 this book supports its argument with statistics. An original data set was constructed to examine whether trends in co-optation, discovered through fieldwork, were more generalizable within Moroccan and Mauritanian politics. Because the context differed considerably, analogous data for Tunisia were not available. The data set supports regression models that predict the conditions under which opposition politicians—mayors and communal representatives—get co-opted into proregime loyalist parties.23 Statistics show how droves of Moroccan leftist and Mauritanian Islamist politicians representing rural districts have succumbed to co-optation, defecting from the opposition to regimes’ loyalist parties.24 Follow-up interviews with politicians who fell to co-optation show the underlying mechanisms behind this regime co-optation strategy. To date, this data set constitutes the first quantitative attempt to describe individual-level patterns of co-optation within the Middle East and North Africa (MENA). Why Compare Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania? Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania provide ideal sites in which to examine alliances between leftists and Islamists. They are relatively similar countries, with French colonial histories, limited rentier resources, and underlying Arab-Berber cultures. Yet alliances therein experienced tremendous variation in durability. Some coalitions between leftists and Islamists endured for years, whereas others failed after months. The alternative of comparing these North African states, for instance, with Egypt, Syria, or a Persian Gulf state would introduce new antecedent conditions—like the presence of sectarian minorities or rentier oil

Introduction  ■  9

wealth—that invites the risk of incomparability. Contentious relations between leftists and Islamists in Egypt, Syria, and Lebanon, for example, intersect conflicts between Sunni citizens and their non-Sunni neighbors, especially Christian minorities. In many Persian Gulf states, relations between leftists and Islamists are obscured by conflicts between Sunni and Shia. Moreover, these regimes’ massive oil rentier wealth helps pacify opposition politics. Thus, Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania make sense for this book, considering other countries available for comparison. Because many comparative studies of North Africa include Algeria, a rationale should be furnished for why this book omits it.25 Algeria’s tragic civil war between 1991 and 2002, which led to approximately 150,000 deaths, makes relations between its regime and Islamists somewhat exceptional.26 Algeria’s rentier wealth also makes its domestic politics different.27 In sum, a comparison of Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania fits because all three countries feature similar baseline attributes but have experienced different levels of durability in alliances, furnishing evidence that reveals the process by which these outcomes occurred. Some may consider this book’s comparison of Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania imperfect, yet I tend to heed the advice of the late Charles Tilly.28 He cautioned against fetishizing issues of research design insomuch as they induce intellectual paralysis, hindering the socially significant lessons learned from comparing complex macrohistorical political processes. The logic of comparison should “fit our aims like a sweatshirt and not like a straitjacket,” he advises. “It should make the exercise more effective, rather than making it impossible.”29 Although this book’s argument is delimited to Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania, where evidence for its veracity was collected, it carries implications for other Arab countries and, perhaps, other authoritarian regimes outside the MENA. Chapter Outline In lieu of ordering its chapters around country case studies, this book organizes its evidence around different sequences of the argument but embedded within a chronological, historical narrative. The book is divided into six chapters. Chapters 1–3 outline existing research concerning the

10  ■  Why Alliances Fail

success or failure of opposition alliances and explain on what social bases regimes and opposition parties in Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania have relied since their inceptions until today. Chapter 1 introduces the topic of coalitions between opposition parties with divergent ideologies, known as “cross-ideological alliances.” After discussing broader research on opposition coalitions in authoritarian regimes during the third wave of democratization, the chapter focuses specifically on alliances between leftists and Islamists in Arab countries. Drawing on evidence from Jordan, Egypt, and Yemen, scholars researching left-Islamist cooperation observed that ideological conflict, commitment problems, and autocratic institutions could cause alliances to fail. With the exception of the pioneering works of Francesco Cavatorta, Eva Wegner and Miquel Pellicer, and Bruce Maddy-Weitzman, scholars largely left the subject of left-Islamist alliances in North Africa unexamined.30 Chapter 2 explains how Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania developed regimes with different types of social bases—rural or urban—during the critical years of their formation.31 Chapter 3 turns to the social bases of the opposition parties and the factors that triggered the initiation of leftIslamist alliances. Although Morocco’s leftists and Mauritania’s Islamists were urban opposition parties from the 1960s until the 1990s, they realigned their social bases increasingly to rural areas in the 2000s. By contrast, Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists retained their urban social bases, relying on largely middle-class constituencies with low illiteracy. Since Tunisia’s parties did not come to depend on social bases encumbered in clientelist arrangements of rural areas, and such social structures had been weakened during regime formation, co-optation did not emerge as this regime’s dominant tactic to try to shatter left-Islamist alliances. This chapter also describes the changes in the political opportunity structure (usually an exceptional threat) that motivated alliances’ initial formation.32 Chapters 4–6 investigate why alliances succeeded or failed and explicate the process by which co-optation occurred against Morocco’s leftists and Mauritania’s Islamists. Chapter 4 details the national-level alliances forged to respond to mutual threats. Alliances between Morocco’s and Mauritania’s leftists and Islamists emerged in 2008 and 2009,

Introduction  ■  11

respectively. But they lasted only a matter of months. They failed because politicians from Morocco’s leftist party and Mauritania’s Islamist party were co-opted by loyalist parties emerging from the regimes’ historic rural strongholds. In Tunisia, by contrast, the national-level alliance formed in 2005 following a common threat, endured throughout the late 2000s, and evolved into the Troika coalition government that oversaw democratization until early 2014. During the Arab uprisings and their aftermath in Morocco and Mauritania, attempts were made to resurrect left-Islamist alliances to push for reform, though they largely failed. Chapter 6 recounts these events. Chapter 5 considers the counterfactual: Had Morocco’s leftists and Mauritania’s Islamists retained their historic urban social bases, could they have succeeded in building durable alliances? Examining examples of coalitions from city and labor politics, this chapter shows how leftists and Islamists maintained alliances to secure reforms for their urban, middle-class supporters. In these domains of politics, the opposition parties did not gradually realign their social bases to rural areas. Because of the Tunisian regime’s tight control over labor and city politics, it also shows how it foreclosed opportunities for left-Islamist alliances therein. The conclusion discusses this book’s implications for scholars researching authoritarian politics, opposition coordination, and democratization in the Arab world. It emphasizes the importance of understanding the urban-rural divide in politics for the robustness of opposition alliances. Although scholars have looked to institutions to explain why alliances fail, they frequently envision them as exogenous to underlying society. This book seeks to uncover what social structures regimes manipulate to reinforce their rule and break alliances. While Arab autocrats will continue to divide opponents through the manipulation of electoral laws and other institutions, scholars need to also understand the social forces that predate, precede, and perpetuate such methods of control. This book deconstructs the dichotomy between institutionalist and social structuralist approaches, bridging these traditionally divergent explanations for authoritarian resilience. Although certainly not the only or exclusive reason Morocco’s and Mauritania’s rulers have remained in power over time,

12  ■  Why Alliances Fail

one crucial, understudied factor is the way in which their regimes have enlisted loyalists from rural areas to combat, co-opt, and collapse opposition alliances. In understanding institutions as by-products of underlying society, we can see how those authoritarian regimes that harnessed the social forces of rural politics, illiteracy, and clientelism resisted pressures for reform exerted by alliances.

1 Understanding Alliances Toward a Social Theory of Opposition Politics

Between 1974 and 2000, more than five dozen countries once ruled by dictators, kings, or other autocrats democratized.1 In little time, variation developed in the successful consolidation of these democracies. Countries such as the Philippines and South Korea solidified their transitions, whereas other states tried to democratize but ultimately faltered. An array of explanations identifies sources of instability in transitioning democracies, like military coups, ethnic conflict, and economic crises. One factor that aids the success of a country’s transition to democracy is the nature of relations between opposition parties. United in a stable alliance that endures over time, opposition parties can not only mobilize for democratic change but also safeguard the transition afterward. In coalitions, opposition parties agree on similar objectives as they contest regimes and also set common priorities for the postregime period. Some scholars—especially focused on Latin American politics—view such opposition coordination as a necessary (though not alone sufficient) condition for democratic consolidation. Examples from democratization’s third wave underline the importance of opposition alliances. In 1974 Portugal experienced its Carnation Revolution in which military officers ousted an autocrat and, subsequently, oversaw democratization in cooperation with an alliance of parties with diverse ideologies. Similar events occurred following Spanish autocrat Francisco Franco’s death. Rallying around monarch Juan Carlos, who pledged to implement democratization, opposition parties signed the Pact of Moncloa agreement. Not only did this pact forge a coalition 13

14  ■  Why Alliances Fail

between the parties during initial democratization, but it also encouraged them to maintain an alliance to oversee the uneasy two-year transition thereafter. These successful cases of democratization on the Iberian Peninsula, as well as those beyond it in countries like Mali, Benin, and Kenya, highlighted the importance of opposition alliances. But while democracy consolidated in Spain and Portugal, authoritarianism reemerged in many countries by the late 2010s. Scholars thrive on such macropolitical changes, investigating why transitional democracies consolidate or break down. These topics are what Charles Tilly called the “huge comparisons” of the social sciences, with implications for academia and real politics.2 However, comprehending these broad, systemic changes also requires analyzing the micropolitical dynamics from which they are constituted. While a country’s relapse to authoritarianism occurs by a complex, multifactorial process, a better understanding of why opposition alliances fail contributes a crucial piece to solving this puzzle. This book intersects two areas of research carrying vital implications for scholars. These areas of research include, first, explaining the sources of variation in the durability of opposition alliances between parties with divergent ideologies. This book’s chief objective is to explore different theories for why alliances fail. Because of this emphasis, a slight imbalance in empirical evidence exists, where more information is presented on Morocco’s and Mauritania’s national-level alliances (which failed) than on Tunisia’s alliance (which succeeded). Second, the book contributes to efforts to define “co-optation” and highlight its processes in Arab autocracies. Co-optation is an oft-employed though underspecified concept utilized in research on authoritarian regimes. One study notes that scholars use co-optation to explain how authoritarian regimes undermine opposition parties, yet the concept itself remains inchoate.3 Challenges persist in tracking how the co-optation process works in real, ground-level interactions between parties and regimes.4 This problem stems from the fact that co-optation is often secretive. This book concentrates on alliances between two major opposition forces in the contemporary Arab world—Islamists and leftists. These opposition parties’ histories originate in the 1960s and 1970s, but cases

Understanding Alliances  ■  15

of alliances between them in the 2000s and 2010s are examined. Whereas some alliances endured for twelve months, and even multiple years, others failed in only a few months. The stakes and objectives of each alliance differed considerably according to the domain of politics in which it was built, but each one generates evidence to help explain why such coalitions succeeded or failed. By examining opposition alliances not only in national-level politics but also in city governments and labor unions, this book heeds Jillian Schwedler and Janine Clark’s crucial call to assess alliances between leftists and Islamists across the wide “range of political activities” in which they have cooperated.5 During the 2000s and 2010s, three Islamist parties and four leftist parties forged alliances. In Tunisia alliances developed between the Islamist Ennahda Party (Hizb an-nahDa) and two leftist parties, Moncef Marzouki’s Congress for the Republic Party (Congrès pour la République [CPR] or Hizb al-mu’tamar min ajl al-jumhuriyyah) and Mustapha Ben Jaafar’s Democratic Forum for Labor and Liberties (Forum démocratique pour le travail et les libertés or Hizb at-takattul, hereafter the Ettakatol Party).6 In Morocco the Islamist Justice and Development Party (Parti de la justice et du développement [PJD] or Hizb al-‘adaalah wa at-tanmiyyah) and the leftist Socialist Union of Popular Forces (Union socialiste des forces populaires [USFP] or Hizb al-ittiHaad al-ishtiraakii liil-quwaat alsha‘biyyah) entered alliances. Similar coalitions emerged between Mauritania’s Islamist party, the National Rally for Reform and Development (Rassemblement national pour la réforme et le développement or Hizb attawassul, hereafter referred to as the Tawassoul Party) and that country’s main leftist party, the Union of Forces of Progress (Union des forces de progrès [UFP] or Hizb ittiHaad quwaa at-taqaddum). These seven parties are this book’s core protagonists. Understanding Alliances in the Arab World and Beyond Scholars began analyzing opposition alliances not in the Arab world but in the democratic West. In democracies oppositionists with divergent ideologies have built coalitions for a variety of causes. Such cross-ideological alliances have emerged for campaigns such as women’s voting, abortion

16  ■  Why Alliances Fail

rights, nuclear disarmament, and opposition to military quagmires (as in Vietnam and Iraq).7 Research from social movement theory emphasizes that a change in the political opportunity structure stimulates alliance formation.8 Sidney Tarrow notes that atypical opportunities—such as suddenly lower police repression—trigger alliance formation.9 Other scholars, like Nella Van Dyke, emphasize that new, exceptional threats motivate alliances.10 Similarly, scholars investigating the durability of alliances between leftists and Islamists have employed the mechanisms of “threat” and “opportunity.” Janine Clark utilizes the “context of external threat” to explain alliance formation between Jordan’s leftists and Islamists in national-level committees, unions, and electoral campaigns.11 Without a threat or opportunity, opposition parties would not put aside their ideological differences to initiate alliances. When the study of opposition alliances shifted to authoritarian states, scholars linked it to democratization. Guillermo O’Donnell and Philippe Schmitter showed how such coordination could contribute to the collapse of authoritarian regimes. If opposition parties reached across the ideological divide to form alliances, they could pool their resources to contest autocrats more effectively. Such coalitions could become the spearhead of democratic change.12 They could also create a foundation for opposition parties to cooperate and oversee democratic consolidation afterward. In subsequent cross-national tests of O’Donnell and Schmitter’s study, scholars found that cohesive alliances were a bellwether of democratization.13 This understanding of opposition coordination is relatively straightforward, but parties’ application of it in real politics is often more complicated. Frequently, opposition parties face obstacles in maintaining alliances while operating under authoritarian regimes. Explaining this “opposition coordination problem,” one study notes, presents “one of the most significant challenges” in research on authoritarianism.14 Three main theories address the puzzle of why opposition alliances succeed in becoming durable, long-term pacts or, alternatively, collapse. Theory one explains alliance failure through ideological conflict. If ideological deal breakers arise between opposition parties during their alliance, then they cease coordination. Theory one is received wisdom about left-Islamist

Understanding Alliances  ■  17

alliances: the fact that these two parties favor contradictory ideologies and policy programs undermines coalitions. However, because past instances of leftists and Islamists building coalitions exist, this historical record indicates a priori that ideological divergence alone is not a sufficient condition to prevent initial alliance formation. Yet it may undermine their capacity to succeed in becoming durable, long-term alliances. It is conceivable that a number of issues—say, around women’s rights or religion—could provoke one of the parties to withdraw from the alliance, causing its failure. Theory two explains why alliances fail through commitment problems. Jennifer Gandhi highlights how such problems can arise between opposition parties while they operate under authoritarian regimes. Because the outcome of regime change is uncertain, parties hesitate to coordinate in alliances. While parties may face considerable repression under a sitting authoritarian regime, they cannot predict the future after its possible collapse.15 When parties contemplate building alliances, “they face competing pressures,” Gandhi observes. They “recognize the benefits of being united in challenging the dictatorship but may be wary of each other’s relative gains in the future.”16 Thus, parties often take preemptive action and forgo building alliances altogether. This “mistrust,” Gandhi summarizes, “appears to characterize the attitudes of opposition parties toward their peers” under authoritarianism.17 In this commitment problem-based theory, opposition parties build alliances only when a regime is verging toward breakdown. Following events like economic downturns or lost foreign wars, parties begin to realize that the regime’s monopoly on power has declined. These events cue them to ally to exploit the regime’s weakness. The parties rally in alliances to put the final nail in the regime’s coffin.18 Alliances are short-term, strategic pacts emerging from perceptions of winnability. However, theory two expects that, shortly after regime collapse, alliances will fail owing to commitment problems.19 The opposition parties in the alliance will cease their cooperation and not build durable, long-term alliances for fear of the future leader, who would likely come from among the allies. The reason is that the new leader cannot credibly commit to refrain from using his newfound powers as the new head of state to exploit, marginalize, and imprison his former allies. In Iran this scenario occurred:

18  ■  Why Alliances Fail

leftists allied with Shia revolutionaries to overthrow Shah Pahlavi, only to be repressed by them once the embers of revolt cooled. Per this theory, the initial formation and long-term durability of alliances between opposition parties merge into the same puzzle. Alliance durability is an unlikely phenomenon and underemphasized as an outcome worthy of research. Even if regime change were to bring to power a benign leader, who did not oppress his former allies, the opposition parties may still decline to forge durable, long-term alliances. This stems from electoral risks following possible regime change. Parties will be unsure whether elections organized after regime change will improve or worsen their success.20 If regime collapse, as Francesco Cavatorta and Fabio Merone note, allows the “powerful and seemingly sudden emergence” of new competitors, like Salafi or ethnic parties, then the parties’ candidates may lose offices.21 While elections under authoritarianism may be constrained, experience provides parties some certainty about how many seats they can realistically win. Examining alliances between Egyptian leftists and Islamists in the 1980s, early 2000s, and after Mubarak’s 2005 presidential reelection, Dina Shehata also focuses on commitment problems. Her findings on alliances between Egypt’s leftists and Islamists parallel the conclusions of Gandhi. Similarly, Shehata discovers that fear of the future resulted in “mobilization asymmetries” between opposition parties.22 Since “divisions between Islamists and leftists were more fundamental than those between them and the regime,” she affirms that the parties “preferred the authoritarian status quo” to democratization’s uncertainty.23 Theory three uses authoritarian institutions to explain why alliances fail. The regime engineers its internal institutions, especially rules and laws governing political and electoral participation, to facilitate divideand-rule strategies that shatter alliances. Such institutions can either encourage or discourage opposition parties from building alliances in authoritarian regimes and maintaining them over time. In theory three, scholars emphasize differences between monarchical and nonmonarchical authoritarian regime types. Ellen Lust and Amaney Jamal note that kings and presidents often engineer internal institutions differently. Whereas kings a priori prefer electoral rules to “disperse power to a limited number of competing groups,” presidents prefer rules

Understanding Alliances  ■  19

that “favor their political party” over all others.24 Many scholars adhering to this institution-based theory, as Gregory Gause states, view monarchs’ rule as firmer because they more effectively “allow social forces to compete for power against each other,” ensuring “the victory or defeat of any one group will not affect the position of the monarch.”25 Theory three emphasizes that monarchies can design institutions to divide opposition parties and break alliances, keeping parties weak and in mutual competition. Later, Ellen Lust explained how variation in authoritarian institutions between monarchical and presidential autocracies could be embedded in a broader theory, what she termed “structures of contestation.”26 In this theory, autocrats build either divided or unified internal institutions to manage the opposition’s political and electoral participation.27 In systems with divided internal institutions, the regime permits some opposition parties to participate in formal politics while it bans others. Once included in formal politics, opposition parties moderate their demands. In the eyes of both ordinary citizens and international observers, as Holger Albrecht avers, authoritarian regimes with divided internal institutions often have enhanced legitimacy because they permit greater pluralism (even if the overarching system remains solidly nondemocratic).28 By enhancing such regimes’ perceived legitimacy, some scholars, including I. William Zartman, see the activism of legalized opposition parties as “opposition as support of the state.”29 In regimes with unified internal institutions, nearly all opposition political participation is banned. Therein, autocrats often monopolize politics by having “the single most developed party organization behind them,” typically a ruling party.30 Hence, if citizens want to participate in politics, they must join the autocrat’s party. Lust notes that Arab monarchies—Morocco, Jordan, and Kuwait—tend to have divided internal institutions more often than presidential regimes. But this is not universally true: monarchical regimes exist with unified institutions, as in Saudi Arabia, and also presidencies exist with divided institutions, as in Mubarak’s Egypt. One possible expectation that flows from Lust’s theory is that durable, long-term alliances should occur more frequently under regimes with unified institutional environments. When the regime bans nearly

20  ■  Why Alliances Fail

all opposition parties from participation, then they face few costs if they build alliances with other parties. If no party can participate in politics, then no party’s right to participate can be revoked. Conversely, in divided institutional environments, opposition parties that regimes permit to participate in politics fear losing their access to electoral competition. Thus, parties operating under regimes with divided internal institutions will often decline building alliances with other parties. Parties understand that regimes dislike alliances and fear their capacity to multiply the power of parties working together. As punishment, the regime may revoke parties’ authorization permits or shutter their offices. Thus, parties build alliances in divided institutional environments cautiously. These are often fragile pacts that rarely succeed in becoming durable, long-term alliances. Drawing on fieldwork in Yemen, Michaelle Browers analyzes leftIslamist alliances in the Joint Meeting Parties Council. Aspects of her important study match how Lust theorizes relations between opposition parties should work, given differences in authoritarian institutional engineering. Browers details how cooperation increased between the Islamist Islah Party and the leftist Yemeni Socialist Party within the “context of constrained political space.” When Yemen’s autocrat increased repression, nearly banning all opposition parties from politics, they found few reasons not to forge alliances to contest the regime. She concludes that Yemeni opposition parties’ increasing “exclusion from rather than inclusion in formal politics” worked to “put various political actors in contact,” encouraging alliances.31 Three Countries in North Africa, Nine Cases of Alliances This book investigates why alliances succeeded or failed across nine cases of coalitions, three countries of the MENA, and three domains of politics. These nine cases of left-Islamist alliances varied in durability in three ways: alliances that formed and endured over time, alliances that initially formed yet failed, and alliances that were plausibly possible but did not form. Two of the countries—Morocco and Mauritania—witnessed leftIslamist alliances in three different arenas of contestation. Leftists and

Understanding Alliances  ■  21

Islamists formed alliances against regimes in national, city, and labor politics. Yet in Morocco and Mauritania, national-level alliances failed in less than a year. By contrast, left-Islamist alliances within Moroccan and Mauritanian city governments and labor unions formed and endured for several years. In the third country (Tunisia), an alliance developed in national-level politics in 2005 and continued until early 2014. No alliances occurred in Tunisia’s city or labor politics. Alliances between leftists and Islamists within Morocco’s and Mauritania’s city governments and labor unions provide cases for counterfactual analysis. Because the conditions affecting opposition parties differed within these domains of politics, they could sustain their alliances, while coalitions between the same parties failed in national-level politics. These two cases serve as a thought experiment, raising this question: Had the conditions that led to successful alliances in cities and unions been present in national-level politics, would they have similarly generated a durable alliance? Finally, although alliances were plausible in Tunisia’s city governments and labor unions, they never formed. Such null cases of alliance building, in which leftists and Islamists never pursued alliances, illustrate how Tunisia’s regime formation constrained possibilities for opposition coordination in ways not experienced in either Morocco or Mauritania. See table 1. Table 1 Cases of alliance formation and endurance Alliance forms

Alliance endures

Yes

No

Yes

No

Tunisia (national) Morocco (labor) Mauritania (labor) Morocco (cities) Mauritania (cities)

n/a

Morocco (national) Mauritania (national)

Tunisia (cities) Tunisia (labor)

22  ■  Why Alliances Fail

It is not immediately clear what defines an opposition alliance. Scholars have used different definitions; each has its advantages and disadvantages. This study adopts Janine Clark’s useful definition of alliance as a pact between “actors working jointly towards a clearly specified and mutually recognized objective.” Alliances do not manifest in one uniform way but “vary in degree and duration.”32 Clark’s definition can be used to track variation in alliance success and failure in diverse domains of politics.33 For this book, an alliance’s initial “formation” differs from its success in “endurance” over time. Determining the difference entails identifying three criteria. To count an alliance as formed, the first criterion is that opposition parties need to draft a joint agreement, contract, or statement that outlines their alliance’s objectives and announces its formation publicly.34 Parties often give alliances a title (for example, Morocco’s National Front for Democracy). The second criterion defining an alliance as formed includes opposition parties engaging in at least one joint political activity. Those alliances written on paper, but not backed up with at least one joint action, are not counted. A variety of activities count: opposition parties might cooperate in an electoral campaign, enter a ruling coalition government, march, protest, sit-in, or strike. By defining both alliance and political activity broadly, this book examines the full range of contentious activities in which opposition parties can build alliances. This approach coheres with recent research that views leftist and Islamist parties as more than vote-seeking organizations. They are social movements35 involved in diverse activities opposing regimes, such as running labor unions and professional syndicates,36 newspapers and online media,37 hospitals38 and schools,39 religious proselytization groups,40 and other civil society associations.41 A third criterion exists for defining the difference between alliance formation and endurance. A time threshold of twelve months is used to judge durability: If a coalition between opposition parties persists twelve months after formation, then it is considered a successful, enduring alliance. If a coalition does not pass twelve months and falls apart beforehand, then it is considered a failed, collapsed alliance. Because an alliance

Understanding Alliances  ■  23 Table 2 Conceptualizing alliance formation

Joint activity between the parties?

Alliance formation Signed agreement between the parties? Yes

No

Yes

FORMED

NOT FORMED

No

NOT FORMED

NOT FORMED

Table 3 Conceptualizing alliance endurance

Coordination longer than 12 months?

Alliance formed? Yes

No

Yes

ENDURE

DOES NOT ENDURE

No

DOES NOT ENDURE

DOES NOT ENDURE

must initially form before it either succeeds or fails, this book treats these two steps as interlinked phases of alliance building. See tables 2 and 3. Since many leftist and Islamist organizations exist in the Arab world, it is not immediately clear how a “leftist” or an “Islamist” opposition party might be defined. Islamists are, as Jillian Schwedler explains, a “diverse set of actors who, in varying ways, find the blueprint for social, moral, political, and economic reform in the teachings of the Islamic faith.”42 Some scholars, including A. Kadir Yildrim, have termed these Islamist organizations “Muslim Democratic Parties,” analogizing them to Europe’s Christian Democratic Parties.43 This book’s Islamist parties draw ideological lineage from Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood, founded in 1928. This book’s leftist parties adhere to socialist or Marxist-inspired ideologies. Three of the four parties belong to the Socialist International. While far from apologists for France’s colonialism, leftists have been influenced

24  ■  Why Alliances Fail

by its socialism and secularism. The “context of European socialism,” according to Abderrahim el-Maslouhi, encouraged North Africa’s leftists to see “politics as a tabula rasa” in which they could remake their countries “entirely through a process of social and political transformation.”44 Whereas leftists of other Arab countries may believe that socialism and Islamic values do not contradict, North Africa’s leftists tend to view them as irreconcilable.45 Each opposition party in this book has been banned from politics. Frequently, these bans emerged from regimes’ accusations that the parties supported political violence—coup plots, riots, arsons, assassinations, terrorism, university skirmishes, and other activities. Whereas in most cases these allegations were baseless, other times the situation was less clear. However, by the early 2000s, all leftist and Islamist parties included in this book had either entered formal politics and renounced violent methods or remained outside formal politics but used peaceful tactics only. That is, all of the parties were nonviolent opposition parties when they initiated alliances in the late 2000s.46 Studies of alliances in the Arab world do not necessarily have to analyze coordination between leftists and Islamists. Alliances could be examined between a number of different opposition parties—Nasserists and Ba’athists, for example. However, leftists and Islamists have significantly more contradictions in their policies and ideologies. With regard to women’s rights and religion, North Africa’s Islamists prefer policies consistent with Islamic teachings and Arab traditions, while its leftists seek policies that generally emulate those of Western societies. Such divergences make instances of coalitions between leftists and Islamists illustrative cases to test theories of alliance durability between two unlikely, surprising partners.47 The mechanisms that keep leftists and Islamists together in alliances could, thus, likely apply to other parties with fewer ideological contradictions. Hence, this book’s findings can help to generate insights relevant for understanding alliances beyond left-Islamist coordination. The leftist and Islamist parties examined herein were the largest, most important opposition parties operating in Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania beginning in the early 2000s. It should be noted, however, that other leftist and Islamist parties exist in these countries. For example, in

Understanding Alliances  ■  25

Morocco, the leftists and Islamists parties examined herein operate alongside multiple other leftist and Islamist parties, like the Unified Socialist Party (Parti socialiste unifié) and the Party of Renaissance and Virtue (Parti de la renaissance et de la vertu). Because these parties are small and weak, they are not examined. Likewise, a note should be made about why nonparty groups, notably Morocco’s Justice and Charity Movement, are not examined. Crucially, this study aims to explain alliance durability between party organizations, which either actively compete in elections or seek to do so (against regime restrictions). It has less interest in explaining the behavior of movements that eschew formal politics altogether. Morocco’s Justice and Charity Movement is one such group, which some claim was the country’s largest Islamist organization until the early 1990s. Accurate membership numbers do not exist, so such estimates are largely speculative. Yet since the late 1990s, as Ricardo René Larémont notes, Justice and Charity has gradually weakened in influence compared with the rising Islamist PJD.48 This diminution derives from numerous internal problems, including the death of its founder, Abdesslam Yassine, and the public revelation that his daughter (the group’s current leader) engaged in a secret love tryst with an unmarried man. Combined with the electoral strength of Morocco’s PJD after the 2007, 2011, 2015,49 and 2016 elections, and some evidence that Justice and Charity supporters have voted for the PJD,50 it seems the latter has surpassed the former in influence. Explaining Why Alliances Fail in North Africa This book devises and tests a new theory to explain variation in the durability of these nine different cases of alliances. Studies of opposition coalitions in authoritarian regimes, broadly, and also of left-Islamist alliances in the MENA, specifically, emphasize the incentives behind whether alliances succeed or fail. Opposition parties are rational actors that behave strategically, maintaining or dissolving their alliances based on interactions vis-à-vis each other and the regime. Regimes are also rational; they strategically construct internal institutions that divide parties and shatter alliances.

26  ■  Why Alliances Fail

Underemphasized in these theories for alliance durability are social structural factors. What Paul Pierson calls “big, slow-moving, and invisible” variables—the ones connected to longue durée history and entrenched social structures—are not central to the theoretical cast of characters explaining why alliances fail.51 This study organizes its theory around such variables, which have been relatively underexplored. To understand why alliances between leftists and Islamists succeed or fail, and how regimes shatter such pacts, this book’s theory begins with regime formation after colonialism and ends with coalitions in contemporary politics. This book’s theory ultimately connects the social bases of both opposition parties and authoritarian regimes to variation in alliance durability. By examining how the process of regime formation shapes what constitutes the stronghold of an autocracy, whether urban or rural areas, the book shows how such long-term influences can affect the dynamics of contemporary opposition-regime relations. This book’s theory follows five steps. The diagram (figure 1) and table of cases (table 4) visualize these steps. Step one involves how regimes were formed. Whereas in some countries rural areas with high illiteracy and clientelist hierarchies became the regime’s power center, urban areas of the middle class largely without such social structures became regimes’ power center in other countries. Morocco and Mauritania followed the rural pathway of regime formation, while Tunisia followed the urban one. In step two, opposition parties gained a specific social base of support, which remained either static of realigned over time. Typically, leftist and Islamist parties originated with a predominantly urban middle-class social base. Over time, some of the parties realigned their social bases to incorporate more traditional politicians (that is, local elites, provincial notables, or tribal leaders) representing rural supporters. In Morocco and Mauritania, some of the parties gradually acquired overlapping rural social bases with regimes. This longue durée ruralization of some parties— the realignment of their social bases to rural areas—diluted their oppositional character, ossified their internal organization, and made them less committed coalition allies. As opposition parties’ social bases gradually shifted toward their regimes’ historic rural strongholds, then they became vulnerable to co-optation that spoiled alliances in the 2000s.

Understanding Alliances  ■  27 Social Base of Social Social Base Base ofof Postcolonial Postcolonial Postcolonial Regime Regime Regime Regime Regime Regime chooses chooses chooses to toto develop rural or develop develop rural rural or or urban social urban urban social social base base base

Morocco Morocco Morocco &&& Mauritania Mauritania Mauritania

Rural Rural Rural

Social Base of Social Social Base Base ofof Opposition Party Opposition Opposition Party Party

Regime’s Tactic Regime’s Regime’s Tactic Tactic to Break Alliance toto Break Break Alliance Alliance

Alliance Alliance Alliance Outcome Outcome Outcome

Atleast least one AtAt least one one party offuture future party party of of future alliance realigns alliance alliance realigns realigns social base social social base base to toto rural areas rural rural areas areas

Yes Yes Yes

Co-optation Co-optation Co-optation

Alliance Alliance Alliance collapses collapses collapses

Repression Repression Repression

Alliance Alliance Alliance endures endures endures

Opposition Opposition Opposition parties initiate parties parties initiate initiate alliance alliance alliance responding responding responding to toto threat/ threat/ threat/ opportunity opportunity opportunity

Critical Years Critical Critical Years Years of ofof Regime Formation Regime Regime Formation Formation

Tunisia Tunisia Tunisia

Change Change Change ininin Political Political Political Opportunity Opportunity Opportunity Structure Structure Structure

Urban Urban Urban

No NoNo

1. Left-Islamist alliances in North Africa.

In step three, a change in the political opportunity structure—typically a threat or opportunity—causes initial alliance formation. In step four, the regime chooses a strategy to try to break the alliance—co-­ optation or repression. For the final outcome of alliance failure or success in step five, the context of the regime matters. For authoritarian regimes like Morocco and Mauritania that centered power in rural areas, they succeeded in breaking alliances through co-optation. Yet in this context, if the parties retained urban social bases, then they resisted co-optation and alliances endured over time. In countries like Tunisia where the regime built authoritarian power on urban areas and the middle class, then direct repression became the dominant strategy to shatter alliances. The regime’s early formation established what would become its pillar of stability or hotbed of opposition in future years. Drawing on relevant literature, this theory is further detailed below. While the regime formation process varied considerably by country, it followed two general pathways in the MENA that centered on either urban or rural areas.52 Historically, traditional politicians and rural populations intermeshed in clientelist hierarchies have served as stalwart supporters of authoritarianism. Regarding authoritarianism in Germany, Seymour

Table 4 Collapsible and enduring left-Islamist alliances in North Africa Case

Domain

Opposition party Leftists

Islamists

Tunisia (2005–14)

national

Congress for Republic (CPR) & Ettakatol Parties

Ennahda Party

Tunisia

cities

—

—

Tunisia

unions

—

—

Morocco (July–Nov. 2009)

national

Socialist Union of Popular Forces (USFP)

Justice and Development Party (PJD)

Morocco (2009–15)

cities

USFP

PJD

Morocco (2009–11)

unions

Democratic Federation of Labor (USFP union)

National Union of Moroccan Labor (PJD union)

Mauritania (Aug. 2008– Apr. 2009)

national

Union of Forces of Progress

Tawassoul Party

Mauritania (2006–13)

cities

UFP

Tawassoul Party

Mauritania (2005–12)

unions

UFP-union

Tawassoul union

Predominant social base of party

What initiated the alliance?

Alliance formed?

Enduring alliance?

Who was co-opted?

Leftists

Islamists

urban

urban

2003 antiterrorism law

yes

yes

none

—

—

—

no

no

—

—

—

—

no

no

—

rural

urban

Party of Authenticity and Modernity (PAM)

yes

no

Socialist Union of Popular Forces (USFP)

urban

urban

PAM

yes

yes

none

urban

urban

Cancellation, 2007 wage agreement

yes

yes

none

urban and rural

rural

2008 coup

yes

no

Tawassoul

urban

urban

Taya loyalists

yes

yes

none

urban

urban

Cancellation, 2005 wage agreement

yes

yes

none

30  ■  Why Alliances Fail

Martin Lipset asserts, those individuals who “have been most prone to support fascist and other extremist ideologies have been, in addition to farmers and peasants, the small businessmen of the smaller provincial communities.” As Lipset writes, they are “isolated” and rank “far lower than any other non-manual labor group in educational attainment.” Lipset explains that such rural populations faced “insecurities and tensions that flow from the economic instability” of the agricultural economy. Because high illiteracy foreclosed alternative economic opportunities, rural citizens worked with traditional politicians to maintain close relations with authoritarian regimes that would bail them out from droughts and floods that devastated harvests.53 Clientelist arrangements served as the conduit by which regime resources reached rural citizens by way of traditional politicians. Often, these ties built on kinship-based relations of extended families, tribes, or other deeply entrenched social orders. Rural citizens were generally supportive of such clientelist relationships insofar as they eased material difficulties.54 Examining monarchical France, Hilton Root shows how “French absolutism” had “agrarian foundations.” France’s king made rural citizens a bastion of support by rewarding them with benefits through clientelist hierarchies.55 Similarly, in the Middle East, scholars have identified how Gamal Abdel Nasser in Egypt56 and the Pahlavi dynasty in Iran57 used traditional, rural politicians with clientelist connections to bolster their regimes. David Waldner has called this “rural incorporation.”58 Frequently, traditional politicians became key apparatchiks in such regimes’ loyalist political parties.59 Samuel Huntington once opined that the autocrat “who controls the countryside, controls the country,” while “the city is the permanent source of opposition.”60 Much like regimes that determined what would be the center of power in their authoritarian systems, either urban or rural, opposition parties developed specific social bases. Parties are by-products of social conflicts that preceded their inceptions. They do not form exogenously but grow from the social forces that undergird them. In what became a seminal text of modernization theory, Lipset showed how greater economic development generated advantageous social and economic preconditions for democratization.61 Lower economic development and lack of

Understanding Alliances  ■  31

modernization, by contrast, obstructed democratization.62 Applying his findings to parties, Lipset showed that their social bases affected their likelihood of supporting or opposing democratization. Whereas parties with urban constituencies with higher educational attainment and middleclass status were prone to support democratization, those parties with a social base mired in illiteracy and clientelism were less favorable.63 The social base upon which an opposition party relied was not entirely immobile, however. As one group of authors observed, “While the structure of social cleavages is considered to be relatively fixed, the political salience of various cleavages and patterns of parties may fluctuate in reaction to contemporary events.”64 Leaders could realign their party’s social base responding to critical junctures in its internal history or events in society. Subsequent scholarship further theorized the relationship between an opposition party and the vulnerability of a social base constituted of citizens from rural areas. James Wilson and Edward Banfield found that certain social groups desire private goods, while others demand public goods from their political parties. Social groups with more vulnerable conditions are “private-regarding” and seek material patronage in exchange for political loyalty. In contrast, “public-regarding” constituencies, especially the urban middle class, demand public goods more often.65 In a sense, these two types of social bases for parties could be considered either “prematerial” or “post-material” grassroots constituencies.66 When freed from clientelist bonds, the populations of the countryside could gradually enter the middle class in urban areas that would support liberal parties that often drive democratization.67 Yet while many rural citizens remained illiterate and locked in clientelism, they were unlikely to support democratization. Unlike regimes’ whose social bases remain relatively fixed,68 opposition parties’ social bases can realign. A party that originated in urban areas with a middle-class social base may realign to rural areas, incorporating greater numbers of rural supporters. Parties can undergo a process of ruralization. This process could occur for numerous reasons: an opposition party may want to enlarge its ranks by winning more offices, or it may face new, stiffer electoral competition in cities, or it may make a conscious decision to pursue policies seeking to improve the lives of rural citizens

32  ■  Why Alliances Fail

(such as agricultural and rural development programs). All of these factors could cause a party to incrementally acquire a rural social base. Yet while the reasons an opposition party’s social base may realign to the countryside could vary, its consequence is relatively uniform. By shifting its social base to absorb traditional politicians and rural populations historically aligned with an authoritarian regime, an opposition party makes itself more vulnerable to the penetration of proregime forces. In Morocco and Mauritania, the realignment of an opposition party’s social base in this way weakened its internal organization, deteriorated its capacity to sustain contestation, and rendered it vulnerable to regime co-optation. Because of their high levels of isolation and illiteracy, the constituents traditional populations represent in rural areas rarely have access to autonomous sources of wealth necessary to sustain opposition.69 Whereas this ruralization weakened Morocco’s leftist party, it also undermined Mauritania’s Islamist party. Opposition parties do not form alliances spontaneously but do so following a distinct change in the political opportunity structure that triggers alliance building.70 Most frequently, these changes manifest as new, regime-sponsored threats against opposition parties. Thereafter, regimes adopt specific tactics to try to break opposition alliances, which shapes the outcome of durability. These tactics varied according to whether the regimes had been built on an urban middleclass social base (Tunisia) or on a rural clientelist social base (Morocco and Mauritania). Then the success or failure of alliances hinged on the social base of the opposition party. When at least one of the two parties within the coalition gradually absorbs traditional rural politicians, then they become vulnerable to regime strategies of co-optation, which spoils alliances. Once drawn into the rural politics of village life, the parties lose their oppositional edge. They become less able to sustain alliances with parties that retain social bases in cities, where clientelist networks are largely absent. Loyalist parties aligned with regimes carry out this strategy of cooptation. They move to pull politicians of opposition parties into their sphere of influence, incorporating them into the regime’s core group of internal supporters. Both Moroccan and Mauritanian opposition

Understanding Alliances  ■  33

politicians within alliances succumbed to this type of co-optation, which undermined their coalitions. In Tunisia, by contrast, the regime mostly used direct repression and forced many of the key organizers of alliances underground or into exile, which allowed their coalition to remain intact and endure both before and after the regime’s collapse. However, in domains of politics where the opposition parties had kept their historic urban social bases in Morocco and Mauritania—notably cities and labor unions—their alliances succeeded in becoming durable pacts. In these contexts, the regime’s clientelist underpinnings supporting traditional politicians were mostly nonexistent. In regimes like Morocco and Mauritania, an opposition party without a rural social base increases its chances to remain politically independent and robust. Several reasons suggest that opposition parties with support among the urban middle class would more effectively resist the regimes’ co-optation tactics. When the parties depend on social constituencies in urban areas, clientelism declines in importance compared with rural areas. In the anonymity of urban areas, such social structures carry less influence over human action because they dilute and deteriorate in cohesiveness.71 Because the urban economy produces more stable sources of wealth, citizens will be less likely to rely on patronage funneled through clientelist arrangements to compensate for unstable agricultural livelihoods. Thus, two opposition parties with social bases built on the urban social milieu would make the strongest, most committed alliance partners. If neither party depends on a rural social base, then their alliance becomes more likely to succeed over time. Insights from North Africa’s Left-Islamist Alliances This book’s insights intersect different scholarly agendas related to opposition coordination, left-Islamist alliances, and mechanisms of co-optation. These three topics fall within the well-established research field explaining authoritarian persistence in the Arab world.72 Evidence from opposition coordination presented herein problematizes theoretical expectations posited by institution-based, commitment problem-based, and threatbased theories for why alliances fail.

34  ■  Why Alliances Fail

Institution-based theories expect that opposition alliances in unified institutional environments should be more durable than those alliances in divided institutional environments, which should fail more easily. At first glance, the pattern of variation this book finds in the durability of leftIslamist alliances in national-level politics confirms this prediction. Facing a highly oppressive and unified institutional environment, Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists had few disincentives not to cooperate in an alliance and maintain it over many years, between 2005 and early 2014. Similarly, the fact that Morocco’s and Mauritania’s regimes have been effective at breaking left-Islamist alliances in national politics also coheres with institution-based theories. Upon close examination, however, unexpected cases of long-term, durable alliances appear in regimes with divided institutional environments. These cases of stable left-Islamist alliances are surprising, given the Morocco and Mauritania regimes’ divided internal institutions. That is, when leftists and Islamists allied at the subnational level in city governments (that is, the “communes”)73 and labor unions in Morocco and Mauritania, they resisted regime attempts to shatter alliances. Despite a divided institutional environment in Morocco and Mauritania, leftIslamist alliances not only formed but also endured over time. Opposition parties leveraged their alliances to secure reforms benefiting their urban middle-class social bases. Although the goals differed between cases of coalitions between leftists and Islamists in national-level politics and coalitions in subnational politics, inclusion of the latter in this analysis presents new evidence to explain variation in alliance durability. Indeed, because the majority of extant studies concentrate on national-level alliances only, they often leave the empirical evidence from subnational cases untapped. By, as Jack Snyder recommends, “scaling down” to examine politics at the subnational level, this study analyzes new examples of left-Islamists alliances that succeeded in becoming long-term, durable pacts.74 Evidence from this book also complicates commitment problembased and threat-based theories explaining alliance durability. Opposition parties form alliances, according to these theories, when a regime is verging toward breakdown or when an exceptional threat appears in politics.

Understanding Alliances  ■  35

Because of these events, parties overcome commitment problems to forge alliances. Yet when a regime ultimately collapses or a threat disappears, then opposition parties would have disincentives to maintain long-term, enduring alliances. The alliance’s rationale for forming evaporates; commitment problems reemerge to cause alliance failure. While evidence from this book confirms the importance of threats to initial alliance formation, it does not fully cohere with these theories’ predictions for why alliances would succeed or fail over time. Indeed, in Tunisia, a national-level alliance between leftists and Islamists began years before the authoritarian regime’s breakdown and endured years after its end. The alliance did not initially emerge when the regime teetered toward breakdown. In Morocco, similarly, a national-level alliance began not when the regime was veering toward collapse, but rather when it was upgrading toward greater robustness. And in Mauritania, a left-Islamist alliance emerged in the fallout period after the downfall of Ma’aouya Sid Ahmed Ould Taya’s authoritarian regime, not beforehand.75 In a related vein, exceptional threats caused the formation of leftIslamist alliances in Morocco and Mauritania in the mid-2000s; alliances were a mutual defense strategy. However, these alliances failed. What does not entirely jibe with existing theory is that alliances collapsed even though the threats that initiated them remained present and active. In essence, a threat alone did not serve as a determinant of long-term alliance durability. This pattern of variation in the success and failure of alliances does not fully match expectations of institution-based, commitment problem-based, or threat-based theories. Most important, a degree of presentism exists in theories explaining variation in alliance durability. One key takeaway from these theories is that opposition parties are rational actors that weigh the costs and benefits of alliances. In blow-by-blow responses, parties rationally decide to either maintain or terminate alliances based on incentives and disincentives. Such an outlook underemphasizes what social forces constitute parties and how their social composition may guide, limit, or constrain their actions. These social forces can affect the robustness of alliances by shaping parties’ decision-making. Because social context constrains both the opposition parties’ and the regime’s actions, this book’s account for

36  ■  Why Alliances Fail

alliance durability centers on such social structural dynamics. Rather than separating parties and regimes from their social environments, this study treats them as products of it, thereby presenting a society-centered account for why alliances fail. This book’s findings also intersect studies on the mechanisms of cooptation. Not only in Arab politics, specifically, but also in authoritarian regimes, more generally, co-optation has become a key tool of regime control to fend off opposition parties. Since few autocrats can rule by force and violence alone, they collect a group of internal supporters—what some scholars call a “ruling coalition”76—who support their reign freely.77 Some describe this arrangement as the autocrat’s “ruling bargain” with elites.78 Co-optation serves as one mechanism by which citizens or parties may be drawn into a regime’s inner circle of supporters. Frequently, regimes’ loyalist parties provide an institutional apparatus or framework that contains these supporters.79 Joshua Stacher describes co-optation’s importance as “a process of mobilizing and incorporating individuals into state organizations” by shifting the regime’s social base to expand and strengthen its group of internal supporters.80 In a similar vein, Holger Albrecht views it as a process whereby autocrats manage to make individuals, parties, and groups “bound to the power center” of the regime. He continues, stating that the “multi-party system under an authoritarian framework can be established with the aim of broadening and outsourcing co-optation.”81 Most existing research on co-optation has emerged in two distinct forms, quantitative and qualitative studies. Quantitative studies of cooptation in authoritarian regimes beyond the Middle East have looked at how public goods spending co-opts the population. These studies focus on cross-national trends using aggregate data, capturing country-level dynamics without examining how co-optation affects specific parties or leaders.82 In contrast, qualitative studies on co-optation have identified key actors who have succumbed to co-optation in countries like Egypt and Jordan.83 Concerning North Africa’s regimes, previous scholars have examined co-optation. Early studies of Morocco particularly stressed its centrality to authoritarian rule. John Waterbury detailed how Morocco’s makhzan system “broke or domesticated” elites to incorporate them into the

Understanding Alliances  ■  37

monarchy’s internal group of supporters, whereas other scholars—notably Volker Perthes—viewed this system as a series of “concentric circles” among elites.84 At the center of these circles stood Morocco’s monarch, who distributed benefits. Each elite sought to inch closer to the ruler, aiming to access a closer circle where more benefits were accessible. Besides these classic studies, more contemporary ones have examined how North Africa’s social movements and labor unions have been co-opted, eschewing radical objectives for inclusion in formal politics.85 Whereas these qualitative studies include rich, important details on how co-optation works both in the Arab world and in North Africa, respectively, they rarely leverage statistical data—as the quantitative studies do—to track these dynamics. While the qualitative and quantitative approaches both examine co-optation, they rarely dialogue, owing to differences in research methodologies. Here, this study contributes by blending these two approaches by using a unique candidate-level data set from Morocco to help show how one type of co-optation mechanism works in this authoritarian regime. This approach merges the nuance of area studies research with the statistical rigor of quantitative methods. Observing what constitutes co-optation in real politics can be difficult. In this study, a politician succumbs to co-optation when—at a minimum—he realigns his political posturing from an antiregime to proregime stance. Originally having a position of opposition toward an authoritarian regime and its loyalist parties, he reorients to a posture of active cooperation with them. A politician evidences co-optation—at its maximum—when he defects from his own opposition party and absorbs into a proregime loyalist party. This defection is more than simply switching from one party to another. When an opposition politician in Morocco or Mauritania abandons his own party and enlists in a loyalist one closely aligned with the regime, he signals a new level of allegiance and compliance. He cues that he will cooperate with proregime forces. In Morocco’s and Mauritania’s authoritarian systems, politicians often reorient from a position of opposition to one of cooperation with the regime and its loyalist parties in a bid for clientelist patronage. While in the opposition, politicians often have difficulty accessing such resources—such as state development aid or public jobs—that can enhance their chances of

38  ■  Why Alliances Fail

reelection.86 Cédric Jourde has called this “defection” when oppositionists abandon their parties and get co-opted into proregime ones to signal their “unswerving allegiance” to the autocrat. They aim to get “renewed distribution of state patronage” to their constituencies.87 Scholars have observed this form of co-optation in other Arab and non-Arab autocracies. Jason Brownlee recorded droves of independent candidates who enlisted in Egypt’s dominant party, the National Democratic Party, after winning elections.88 They aimed to access new clientelist resources for their districts by obtaining party membership. Analogously, Ora John Reuter has documented how Russian politicians have similarly defected from their parties and enlisted in Vladimir Putin’s United Russia.89 They seek to attract much-needed funds from the central authoritarian regime to their outlying districts, which have fewer resources. This book extends this preexisting research seeking to uncover what Joshua Stacher calls the “micro-dynamics of co-optation” in authoritarian regimes.90 Conclusion Whereas traditional explanations for why alliances fail between opposition parties center on ideological conflict, authoritarian institutions, or commitment problems, they largely leave the role of a party’s social base underexplored. The chapters that follow draw on original evidence from North Africa to show how and why alliances either succeed or fail. The upshot is that an opposition party’s increasing reliance on rural, clientelist constituencies enhanced its vulnerability to regime manipulation and co-optation. In the national politics of Morocco and Mauritania, regimes exploited this weakness in an opposition party’s social base to facilitate this divide-and-rule strategy against alliances.

2 Rural Regimes, Urban Regimes Divergent Pathways of Regime Formation

Before colonization, Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania shared antecedent similarities in the traditional social structures of their societies. They were structured on linkages between extended families in rural areas, or agnatic relationships.1 Whereas sometimes these relationships built on direct blood or tribal relations, other times they involved other bonds of village-level solidarity, such as ethnic or linguistic ties.2 Gradually, these relationships between leaders and subordinates evolved into clientelist hierarchies that bound rural citizens to traditional politicians (that is, local notables, elite landowners, and tribal leaders). All three North African societies were “republics of cousins” constituted from such rural social structures.3 However, to form their regimes after decolonization, autocrats had to decide: Would they preserve such structures, or would they displace them? Autocrats adopted varying approaches to dealing with traditional ru­ral politicians, whose authority rested on clientelist hierarchies. Widespread illiteracy reinforced obedience to this system among rural citizens. To build Tunisia’s regime, its autocrat uprooted clientelist arrangements and sidelined traditional politicians, replacing them with ruling-party cadres from the urban educated middle class. It was a paragon of Manfred Halpern’s “middle-class led modernizing regime.”4 Morocco’s and Mauritania’s rulers, by contrast, enlisted traditional politicians and underlying rural social structures to build their regimes. Whereas Tunisia exhibited what Michael Lipton called an “urban bias,” Morocco and Mauritania showed a rural bias.5 These divergent pathways of regime formation became deeply 39

40  ■  Why Alliances Fail

entrenched, establishing path-dependent patterns, practices, and policies that would affect future regime-opposition interactions. Over time, these trends in regime formation migrated into regimes’ political party systems. Tunisia’s ruling party built a social base from the urban middle class, while Morocco’s and Mauritania’s proregime loyalist parties constructed social bases from rural constituents. While Morocco’s and Mauritania’s regimes differed dramatically in their formal autocratic institutions, adopting either monarchical or presidential systems, they shared common social origins by buttressing their power on rural areas. However, insofar as its institutions, Mauritania resembled Tunisia in constructing a dominant ruling-party regime. Exploring how autocrats built local governments, known as “communes,” best illuminates these trends. Analyzing this process serves as a microcosm for broader authoritarian regime formation. It shows what constituencies became crucial components of regimes’ social bases. Creating communes, Mark Tessler explained, allowed Morocco’s and Mauritania’s “local and rural subelite” to remain “big men who exercise influence.”6 Tunisia: The Legacy of Direct Colonial Rule, 1500s–1955 Tunisia inherited many natural and historical characteristics that made it an easy place to build an urban, centralized authoritarian regime. The process of displacing Tunisia’s traditional politicians and uprooting rural social structures originated with Ottoman occupation, intensified under French rule, and climaxed during Habib Bourguiba’s reign. In 1574 Ottoman forces occupied Tunisia. Urban merchants, the baldi, became the Ottoman-backed king’s advisers in Tunis.7 Control in rural areas was maintained through loose links with traditional politicians, who ruled through clientelist arrangements.8 “In the countryside,” as John Entelis notes, “tribalism continued to be the most important feature of social organization.”9 Tribalism started to weaken when the king took out a loan from European creditors to sustain wasteful spending habits. To compensate, the king levied a new head tax (the mejba) in 1864. Tunisians exploded into riots. The king repressed the riots and forcibly extracted taxes. Repression

Rural Regimes, Urban Regimes  ■  41

of the revolt was particularly harsh against the tribes and began a trend of marginalization of Tunisia’s rural peripheries. More funds were borrowed to pay for repression costs. To collect on unpaid loans, French colonial forces landed in 1881. Pacification lasted only two months, rolling across Tunisia’s flat territory easily. French colonizers installed the baldi to supplant traditional politicians. Baldi politicians occupied 80 percent and 85 percent of communal representative positions in urban and rural areas, respectively.10 Baldi politicians with a locally based French colonial officer controlled the commune; the latter supervised and overruled the former.11 Begun by the Communal Charter of 1885 and reinforced by the Second Communal Charter of 1914, these practices bolstered centralized authority and reduced local autonomy.12 Colonialism began policies to weaken traditional politicians and rural social structures that undergirded their power. It laid the foundations for autocrat Habib Bourguiba’s (r. 1957–87) urban middle-class regime. Postcolonial Tunisia: Building Bourguiba’s Order, 1956–1965 In 1934 Habib Bourguiba’s regime’s dominant party, the Neo-Destour, was founded in Tunisia’s Sahel region. The party’s leadership drew on the sons of the Sahel, who were urban, educated, and middle-class descendants of olive agriculturalists.13 Whereas the baldi, according to Clement Henry Moore, “shared a stake” in the traditional order, Bourguiba’s party allies did not; they believed in overturning such social structures.14 After decolonization in 1956, Bourguiba’s party took control by establishing more than four hundred offices with twenty-eight thousand members (especially in cities like Tunis, Cap Bon, and Sousse). A close relationship with the Tunisian General Labor Union (Union générale tunisienne du travail [UGTT]) helped Bourguiba make the urban middle class his regime’s social base.15 Tunisia’s regime asserted itself as the defender and promoter of urban middle-class interests. Not all celebrated Bourguiba’s pact with urban interests. A leader in Bourguiba’s party, Salah Ben Youssef, criticized his regime-formation strategy, whose economic policies marginalized rural areas.16 Traditional

42  ■  Why Alliances Fail

politicians and large landowners rallied to his side and, as Moore writes, “feared the rise to power of a coalition of Bourguiba and the UGTT.”17 Particularly, as Elbaki Hermassi avers, they opposed policies of Sovietstyle farm collectivization. Although collectivization failed economically by 1969, it frightened traditional politicians by threatening to dislodge the clientelist order undergirding their rural power.18 Ben Youssef mobilized a militia of about six hundred fighters in Tunisia’s rural interior to resist Bourguiba.19 But a police offensive apprehended most rural fighters and tried Ben Youssef in absentia.20 In 1961 Tunisian agents assassinated Ben Youssef to preempt future rural insurrections.21 Ben Youssef’s rural rebellion shows that, even in early Tunisian history, conflict emerged between the urban-based regime and rural areas, which it disenfranchised. Thereafter, Bourguiba enhanced control over the countryside to remove traditional rural politicians.22 First, Bourguiba dissolved the farmers’ union closely linked to Ben Youssef and founded a new one, which was controlled by the UGTT.23 Second, the autocrat appointed a new interior minister—his ruling party’s former boss—to restructure the rural communes. He sacked the governors and replaced them with direct appointees and fired 105 of the 160 communal mayors. Then, ruling party leaders were forcibly installed as replacements to counteract potential rural opposition. Bourguiba (and later Ben Ali) controlled Tunis by making a close friend its mayor.24 To further assert dominance over rural areas, Bourguiba mobilized his ruling party to provide, as Moore describes, “new local structures to replace the traditional order.”25 In 1958 a directive from above created a ruling-party cell for each commune to force mixity and cooperation between rival tribes and families.26 Bourguiba, Douglas Ashford avers, “totally discarded” traditional politicians and clientelist systems that had historically ordered rural politics.27 Building off the legacy of French colonialism, Tunisia’s postcolonial autocrat had broken rural areas by the early 1960s. He had monopolized the communes, centralized control in Tunis, and uprooted social structures undergirding the authority of traditional politicians. Urban areas of Tunis anchored the regime’s authoritarian system, whereas rural areas were marginalized.

Rural Regimes, Urban Regimes  ■  43

Morocco: The Legacy of Indirect Colonial Rule, 1912–1955 When the French began colonizing Morocco in 1912, they faced difficulties pacifying its population, which occupied a vast, mountainous territory. By 1934, 8,622 French soldiers, 23,000 French-allied Moroccan fighters (or goumiers), and approximately 27,000 resisters had died in pacification.28 Because Moroccan peasants were better off than Tunisians, earning $400 more in agriculture per year, they migrated less to urban areas.29 Moroccans were far more ethnically heterogeneous than Tunisians. Three subgroups of Amazigh—or Berbers—constituted 60 percent of the pre-1900 population.30 Given these obstacles, General Hubert Lyautey developed a strategy of indirect rule wherein colonial officials established control by collaborating with traditional politicians, who retained authority in rural areas.31 In 1912, Lyautey declared his intent to preserve Morocco’s “historic authorities” and the clientelist systems that buttressed their power.32 By 1920, 63 French colonial officers were cooperating with traditional politicians as intermediaries, supervising clusters of twenty villages.33 Given Morocco’s expansiveness, colonial officers could not control local politics in rural areas as directly as in Tunisia.34 Colonizers had difficulty controlling urban areas by the late 1940s.35 French-installed Moroccan mayors of large cities lacked the clientelist structures traditional politicians leveraged to control rural citizens. Casablanca, which had only 4,000 residents before 1870, became a major metropolis of 900,000 by decolonization.36 Given Casablanca’s meteoric growth, traditional social structures were largely absent. French-appointed Moroccan mayors had difficulty pacifying urban citizens, who generated opposition. Hence, Casablanca had a tumultuous period of six different mayors within thirteen years.37 Mass protests and other unrest occurred in cities led by the Independence Party (Istiqlal). In the waning days of colonialism by 1951, the French retracted some elements of indirect rule.38 Yet, overall, colonialism left a rural-based system of control that protected and prioritized traditional politicians in the countryside, militating against urban middle-class interests. Sultan Mohammed V (r. 1927–61) returned from exile in 1955 to rule independent

44  ■  Why Alliances Fail

Morocco. But the future was uncertain. Would his regime preserve indirect rule or uproot it? Postcolonial Morocco: Constructing Mohammed V’s Order, 1956–1965 Determining whether traditional rural social structures were conserved or discarded reflected a struggle between elites. Morocco’s sultan, now entitled king, shared power with the Istiqlal. Leftists who left Istiqlal renamed themselves the National Union of Popular Forces (Union nationale des forces populaires [UNFP]), which ultimately became (by 1975) today’s main leftist party, the Socialist Union of Popular Forces. Elites who challenged the Istiqlal included palace insiders, like Ahmed Réda Guédira and Mahjoubi Aherdane (who controlled vast clientelist and tribal networks). Guédira had tremendous influence as the close friend and adviser of King Hassan II (r. 1961–99).39 The king announced his desire to hold communal elections in 1960, stressing that they would “construct democracy from the base” as the first postindependence elections. Before elections, communes’ boundaries and powers had to be defined. A middling leftist leader, Hassan Zemmouri, chaired a commission to create the communes. Immediately, the king took an interest in Zemmouri’s commission and met him several times weekly, an exceptional practice for nonminister officials. Tension emerged between Zemmouri and the king. Zemmouri aimed to create communes to combine different familial, tribal, and ethnic networks to destroy clientelist hierarchies in rural areas, thereby disempowering traditional politicians.40 Like Tunisia’s Bourguiba, Morocco’s leftists believed that such social structures hobbled progress.41 The leftist party’s leader, Mehdi Ben Barka, called the commune a “cell for the complete evolution” of Morocco, using it to break traditional social structures.42 Following the leftists’ first national congress, they declared, “The doorway to economic emancipation of the masses comes by way of nationalization and agricultural reform.”43 The king disagreed. He thought the communes should be an “institutionalization of present life,” preserving social structures enhancing his rule.44

Rural Regimes, Urban Regimes  ■  45

Whereas Bourguiba imposed communes top-down through a ruling party, Zemmouri had to negotiate with traditional politicians in outlying provinces.45 They resisted Zemmouri. Soon, he realized that dismantling social structures through inclusive nontribal communes would be nearly impossible. In the greater Casablanca province, Zemmouri’s commission had some success by consolidating 130 French-era rural communes based on homogenous tribal groups into 92 communes. This consolidation combined tribes, diluting traditional social structures. Yet reviewing plans for these communes, Zemmouri still pondered whether “certain ethnic particularisms” had been removed.46 Even in rural areas of mostly Arab tribes just beyond Casablanca, Zemmouri had difficulty replicating Tunisia’s strategy of uprooting clientelism. Elsewhere, Zemmouri had less success. Although he discouraged structuring communes around tribes and clientelist networks, the traditional politicians largely won negotiations.47 They emphasized that it was difficult in remote rural areas to find alternative units of social solidarity on which to build a commune. In rural areas outside of Khouribga, Rabat, and Fès, Zemmouri did not break these structures. Zemmouri’s fiercest opposition came from the rural mountainous regions of Meknès. There, traditional politicians (mostly leading Amazigh tribes) refused to combine their communes unless they shared tribal lineage. “The basic idea,” the Meknès governor wrote, was “to determine a geographic area with common interests. It happens, in this case, that in this area that is the tribe.”48 Thereafter, electoral precincts within the eight hundred communes were created. This time, Zemmouri abandoned social engineering. Rather than trying to break traditional social structures, he codified them. He created precincts preserving homogenous tribal lines. While Tunisia’s regime smashed traditional social structures, Morocco’s regime conserved them.49 This process reinforced trends begun during colonialism, when political power was preserved and anchored in rural areas, while urban areas were oppositional. The rivalry between forces for and against traditional social structures crescendoed in the 1960 communal elections. The leftists’ urban-based party won 23 percent of communal representative positions, mostly in cities. Traditional politicians competing as independents, most of whom

46  ■  Why Alliances Fail

allied with Réda Guédira, won rural areas.50 There, candidate-centric electoral rules had been adopted, benefiting Guédira’s candidates. A candidate’s clientelist ties outweighed party identification or ideology in influencing voters. Individuals actively working as the Interior Ministry’s domestic intelligence agents (known as caids or muqaddams) were also permitted to compete electorally. The election’s results proved that, as Rémy Leveau notes, “tribal notables were integrated into the new administrative framework” and that these “old rural elites had kept their audience.”51 Morocco’s king enhanced traditional politicians’ power by eliminating the land tax in 1961.52 Traditional politicians owned two-thirds of farmland and seized additional lands from French farms.53 Even into the early 2000s, three-fourths of rural peasant families possessed less than two hectares of land. About one-third owned no land at all, working only as sharecroppers or farmhands (often on traditional politicians’ estates).54 Next King Hassan II announced parliamentary elections for 1963. The king tapped Réda Guédira, his close friend, to author a new constitution. The king appointed Guédira simultaneously minister of the interior and agriculture, a post with wide powers to control domestic intelligence and rural affairs. While Mehdi Ben Barka became the hero of urban leftists, Guédira became the champion of traditional rural politicians. One of Guédira’s constitutional provisions banned a single ruling party.55 Thus, Morocco would never have a Bourguiba-style party, which could supplant traditional politicians and their clientelist systems. To counter leftist opposition in the 1963 elections, the king tasked Guédira with creating a new loyalist party using his resources as minister; he would rally traditional politicians into this party. Six months before the election, Guédira met the king in planning meetings. The king endorsed the name Front for the Defense of Constitutional Institutions (Front de la défense des institutions constitutionnelles [FDIC]). Guédira’s FDIC party would cooperate closely with another proregime, notable rural party, Mahjoubi Aherdane’s Popular Movement (Mouvement populaire [MP]). In fact, the two merged into one united party following the king’s encouragement.56 In recruiting candidates, Guédira’s party emphasized sheer quantity disregarding ideological beliefs. His party gathered, as Moore details, “a

Rural Regimes, Urban Regimes  ■  47

heterogeneous coalition of palace personalities and traditional notables.”57 Intelligence agents from Guédira’s ministry told illiterate rural voters the loyalist party was “the king’s party.”58 And in many ways, it was. Guédira’s party secured victory in the 1963 parliamentary elections, winning 69 of 144 total lower-chamber deputies. The leftists won 28 seats. Of its 120 total deputies in the upper chamber, Guédira’s men won 74 seats, while the opposition parties got only 4 seats (a minority of seats, 42, were held by unaffiliated candidates, mostly from rural tribes allied with Guédira). Electoral results reflected the sociodemographics of rural Morocco, from where Guédira’s party drew support. Guédira’s deputies had low education, including 13 illiterates.59 Such politicians do not contribute much to the “discussion of bills,” as Saloua Zerhouni explains, but they bolster loyalist parties by “just raising their hands during voting to vote according to party lines.”60 But they wielded influence outside parliament by using clientelist networks to mobilize voters. Where the leftists knew they carried support, in the urban areas of Agadir, Casablanca, and Rabat, they targeted their campaign for the 1963 communal elections.61 The leftists registered 3,313 candidates. Heavily recruiting traditional politicians, Guédira’s party registered 12,776 candidates and competed for every seat in every commune.62 The loyalist party seemed primed to win, even if the leftist party had higher internal cohesion and ideological coherence. Yet events took place that eased victory for Guédira’s party. Weeks before the elections, the regime arrested many leftist leaders, alleging they had plotted a coup. The leftist party announced a boycott; Guédira’s allies won 90 percent of seats. The creation of Guédira’s party set patterns to be repeated. Leveraging social structures of rural society, which had been preserved during state building, Morocco’s regime built a loyalist party led by a palace insider to combat opposition parties. The regime learned how to rally and mobilize traditional politicians to safeguard its rule. Unlike Tunisia’s regime that solidified power using a hegemonic ruling party based in urban areas, Morocco’s regime consolidated power by encouraging its rural allies to build a loyalist party to counter the ruler’s urban nemeses. Such patterns of rural politics would reemerge in future decades.

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Mauritania: The Legacy of Detached Rule, 1847–1946 Before French colonialism, Mauritania was four tribal kingdoms ruled by traditional politicians, known as emirs. The tribes were heterogeneous ethnically, including a mixed Arab-Berber ethnic group called Bidan.63 The tribes also incorporated black slaves and their descendants, the Haratine. They spoke Arabic and followed Arab traditions. Both Bidan and Haratine identify as Arabs, but the former saw themselves as a “white” superior class and the latter a “black” subordinate class. Other non-Arab African groups existed, principally the Halpulaaren, Wolof, and Soniké. This book refers to Bidan as Arabs to compare them with Mauritania’s two other major ethnic groups, black Arabs and Africans.64 These “complex and pivotal” ethnic relations, as Michael Willis notes, have generally discouraged scholars from comparing Mauritania with other countries.65 In Mauritania, French colonizers left the shallowest legacy through a very indirect, detached system of colonial rule. These practices of rule continue today, allowing social structures of rural areas to remain robust. Like in Morocco, the French relied on traditional politicians as intermediaries to control citizens by clientelist relationships. However, in Mauritania, they did even less to disrupt traditional rural authority. This system derived from the fact that Mauritania was more difficult to pacify and held little value. In 1847 colonization began, yet not in contemporary Mauritania but in Senegal. At the Senegal River’s mouth, Fort St. Louis was established to monopolize river trade. Mauritania’s southern Arab tribes—led by the Oulad Birri clan—attacked frequently. After a devastating loss, the southern Arab tribes signed a peace treaty in 1858. But the raids did not stop. Northern Arab tribes came south, crossing the desert to attack. Yet France’s Foreign Ministry sent clear instructions: maintain a Senegal River outpost, but do not pacify Mauritania’s interior. Paris longed to avoid a costly pacification campaign in a colony of tertiary importance.66 Mauritania became France’s protectorate in 1904, yet the notion that its control extended beyond its river outpost was “administrative fiction.”67 However, after attacks on travelers, the French decided to subdue the northern Arab tribes. Xavier Coppolani, an Arabic-speaking pied noir, led

Rural Regimes, Urban Regimes  ■  49

pacification that would not end until 1934; colonizers and resisters incurred bloody results. Coppolani renewed agreements with the Oulad Birri tribe, specifically Sheikh Sidiya Baba (the grandson of the tribal leader who had signed the 1858 peace treaty).68 The Oulad Birri tribe became pacification’s “co-architect,” providing fighters and supplies.69 After defeats, French colonizers and tribal allies captured the northern tribes’ provinces. But northern tribes retreated into the desert, continuing attacks until the 1940s.70 Given Mauritania’s instability and its perceived worthlessness, the French did not build settlements. Tunisia and Morocco had 120,000 and 30,000 settlers in the 1910s, respectively.71 Mauritania had 144.72 The French held little interest in Mauritania, calling it le vide (the vacuum). Colonialism in Mauritania resembled an even looser version of indirect rule. In 1910 Coppolani’s successor implemented the plan from his offices in Senegal. Rather than reengineering clientelist hierarchies, colonial officers leveraged these social structures in rural areas to establish a system of control through traditional politicians. According to Alfred Gerteiny, colonizers envisioned a “rational organization” of politics based “on the traditional tribal social system,” which was “the only feasible method” given Mauritania’s expansiveness and restiveness.73 To control communes (built on the tribal unit), colonial officers intermediated through rulers of large tribal federations, 50 leaders of smaller tribes, and 819 heads of local clans.74 Communal laws of 1946 codified that traditional politicians controlled all local police, judicial, and taxation powers.75 The French did not disrupt traditional politicians’ authority if they maintained order, even when they proved corrupt or despotic.76 Even more than in Morocco, colonizers did not dislodge traditional social structures and left propitious conditions for Mauritania’s future regime that would use rural clientelism to construct its rule.77 Postcolonial Mauritania: Creating Moktar Ould Daddah’s Order, 1946–1978 After World War II, Mauritania moved rapidly toward decolonization. Some Mauritanian oppositionists criticized the social structures of traditional politicians reinforced by indirect rule. So French-allied

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tribes—particularly the Oulad Birri—moved to enhance their control. In 1948 they founded a party, whose steering committee included Charles de Gaulle (honorary) and leaders from the Oulad Birri and other southern tribes.78 This party swept the 1951 elections, running tribal and traditional politicians as candidates. A key figure attended the party’s founding, Moktar Ould Daddah. Daddah, a nephew of the Oulad Birri leader who had aided French pacification, was a star. He claimed fame as Mauritania’s first university graduate, its first lawyer, and its first newspaper editor. French authorities saw Daddah as ideal to lead Mauritania’s postcolonial government: he embraced French culture, had French connections, and held French degrees. Yet he also had close ties to traditional politicians as an Oulad Birri elite, whereby he could tap into clientelist networks to marshal political support. Daddah’s first term as president of the protectorate in 1957 increased his influence, empowering him to become autocrat after decolonization (r. 1960–78).79 Initially, Daddah had to assert Mauritania’s autonomy from Morocco, which did not recognize its independence until 1970. Unlike in Tunisia and Morocco, where some leaders reengineered (or sought to reengineer) the communes to break rural social structures, Daddah simply retained the colonial communes of 1929.80 Daddah’s 1963 communal law preserved the communes’ autonomy, empowering traditional politicians and tribal leaders.81 Daddah’s regime worked through informal negotiations and intermediation with them.82 What resulted was that in 1967, seven years after decolonization, large swaths of territory remained where modern administrative control was nonexistent.83 Unlike Tunisia’s Habib Bourguiba, who used communes to break traditional social structures, Mauritania’s Daddah modeled Morocco’s King Hassan II in using the communes to preserve them. In his new regime, Daddah’s tribe controlled the three most important government posts: the presidency, the parliamentary president, and the foreign minister.84 Traditional politicians played a crucial role in Daddah’s ruling party, the Mauritanian People’s Party (Hizb ash-sha‘b al-muuriitaanii). Like Bourguiba’s party, Daddah’s party was hegemonic—all other parties were formally illegal. However, unlike Bourguiba’s party, Daddah’s party built a “revolutionary single-party façade” but kept “tribal leaders within the

Rural Regimes, Urban Regimes  ■  51

system.”85 Although Daddah had built a single-party state, he constructed one that did not destroy Mauritania’s rural social structures but rather preserved and reinforced these prevailing power relations. Building off patterns begun under colonialism, Mauritania’s autocrat constructed a regime that buttressed its rule upon rural areas where traditional tribal politicians reigned through clientelism. Conclusion Colonial rule imparted Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania with different legacies that governed social structures in rural areas. These legacies either empowered autocrats to displace traditional politicians or, alternatively, encouraged them to forge partnerships with them. Tunisia’s ruler displaced traditional politicians and replaced them with his party apparatchiks, whereas Morocco’s and Mauritania’s rulers preserved such traditional politicians’ power and clientelist systems. What resulted was that this book’s three North African states blazed two different trails to regime formation. Tunisia’s regime displaced traditional social structures and constructed a social base that was urban, while Morocco’s and Mauritania’s preserved these social structures and built social bases that were rural. Both Morocco’s and Mauritania’s regimes, Mark Tessler surmises, created a “national political machine that operates on the basis of clientelism,” whereby the ruler sits “atop a network of patron-client hierarchies” and “rewards his supporters, punishes his enemies, and keeps others dependent on his favors.”86

3 All about the Base The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances in North Africa

Since they emerged in the 1960s and 1970s, this book’s seven leftist and Islamist opposition parties have developed key ideological values and policy programs, which diverge strikingly. Each party has also gathered a social base of support. What is clear is that not all these opposition parties had, by the 2000s and 2010s, the same social bases upon which they were founded. While authoritarian regimes’ social bases have remained relatively static, those of the leftists and Islamists have not. Gradually over time, Morocco’s leftists and Mauritania’s Islamists have evolved from primarily urban parties into parties that have considerable rural support. This realignment to rural areas has enhanced these parties’ vulnerability to regime co-optation. Opposition parties have little reason to forge alliances without a clear reason that motivates them to overcome ideological differences. In Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania, leftists and Islamists initiated alliances primarily in response to new, unprecedented threats (confirming Janine Clark’s crucial study).1 In Tunisia, Ben Ali’s regime introduced a new antiterrorism law in 2003 that increased repression against opposition parties, motivating leftists and Islamists to forge a 2005 alliance. This coalition (the 18 October Alliance) endured through the 2011 uprisings and did not end until early 2014. Although it might be an overstatement to claim that cooperation between Tunisia’s opposition parties before 2011 and after 2011 was completely identical, it nonetheless provides a case of a stable, uninterrupted alliance that spanned nearly ten years. 52

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances  ■  53

In Morocco, meanwhile, a new regime-backed loyalist party—Fouad Ali al-Himma’s Party of Authenticity and Modernity (Parti authenticité et modernité [PAM])—generated an exceptional threat that encouraged a left-Islamist alliance. In Mauritania, leftists and Islamists allied to resist Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz’s 2008 military coup. Crucially, however, these threats alone did not determine whether these alliances became durable, long-term pacts. The Social Bases of Tunisia’s Leftists and Islamists, 1970–2000s Led by theologian Rachid Ghannouchi, Tunisia’s Islamist party—Ennahda Party (Hizb an-nahDa)—first emerged in 1970 within a governmentsponsored religious movement, which sought to resist secularization of the 1960s. Such policies mobilized the Islamists to counteract the notion that “Tunisia had already been Westernized and no longer constituted an Islamic civilizational center.”2 Ghannouchi’s Islamist movement built a social base among urban citizens and was led by middle-class engineers, doctors, lawyers, and teachers. Recruitment continued undeterred until 1978. That year major labor strikes took place, climaxing in the January 26 “Black Thursday” riots.3 Two years later, unrest reemerged in phosphate-mining regions. Using its newspaper, whose circulation increased from six thousand to twenty-five thousand, the Islamists criticized the regime for mishandling the unrest.4 Despite its criticism of the regime, Ennahda had hitherto escaped major repression. By 1981, when Ghannouchi announced that Ennahda wanted to become a political party, it had developed a sophisticated internal organization and national influence. The Islamist movement also formally changed its name from the Islamic Tendency Movement to Ennahda. They had strongholds in more prosperous, urbanized areas—Tunis and cities.5 One survey found that Islamists were more educated, urban residing, and middle class compared with a representative sample of eight hundred Tunisians.6 Ennahda recruited at universities: 20 percent of the University of Tunis’s science and technology students joined.7 Islamists confronted leftists at universities, where “French was

54  ■  Why Alliances Fail

the language of discussions” and few “observed daily prayers.” Tunisia’s Islamists resisted the “era of la gauche laïque (the secular left).”8 Originating in Tunisia’s marginalized interior provinces, bread riots began in late 1983. Tunisians rioted to resist the central state that had prioritized urban Tunis in its development plans and marginalized rural communities, which had received only 29 percent of development funds. While Islamists did not start these protests, they played a key role when they spread to major cities.9 The protests’ power increased, as Marion Boulby describes, when the Islamists mobilized their urban “lumpenproletarian element.”10 In the mid-1980s after the riots, Bourguiba took measures to reinforce his rule. First, he expanded Tunisia’s regime party, now renamed the Socialist Destourian Party (Parti socialiste destourien [PSD]), in the countryside. In the rural areas where the riots began, Bourguiba increased the number of party cells to solidify control. These cells—only 450 or so in 1981—nearly doubled to 804. Rural Tunisians were slow to join them, however.11 Second, Bourguiba harshly repressed the Islamists. Ordering the arrest of Ghannouchi and ninety Ennahda members, Bourguiba instructed his prime minister to ensure the Islamists were executed. The trial produced only seven death sentences, however.12 Thereafter, he appointed a prime minister, Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali, who had used force against Islamists as interior minister. However, Ben Ali changed tack, fearing that Ghannouchi’s execution would ignite a civil war. Backed by the military, Ben Ali deposed Bourguiba in 1987 and moved the aging autocrat to an isolated palace for medical care. Tunisia’s two main leftist parties—the Democratic Forum for Labor and Liberties (Forum démocratique pour le travail et les libertés, or the Ettakatol Party) and the Congress for the Republic—were founded in the 1990s and 2000s, respectively. Both parties hail from what Fabio Merone and Francesco Cavatorta call the “liberal left,” advocating secularism, personal liberties, and women’s rights. Leftists had accused Islamists of “double-speak,” alleging their declared commitments to democracy were disingenuous.13

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances  ■  55

Mustapha Ben Jaafar’s Ettakatol Party emerged in 1994 as an offshoot of another party, Ahmed Mestiri’s Mouvement des démocrates socialistes (MDS). Ideologically, Ben Jaafar modeled his leftist party on European social democratic parties, orienting its policies toward “struggles for social equality and socially just economic growth.”14 Ben Jaafar’s party built itself on an educated, urban social base. As Abdellatif Abid, an Ettakatol leader stated, “From the perspective of class, there’s not a big difference between our party and Ennahda.” Both parties rely on support “from a political class that comes from only amongst those who have consciousness; the remainder of people have limited potential politically.” The main difference, he continued, is that “Ennahda has not yet set an explicit social or economic program, and has succeeded thanks mostly to its religious ideology.”15 Based in Tunis, the Ettakatol Party accelerated its activities throughout the 1990s and 2000s yet was not legalized until 2007. This banned status blocked it from contesting elections in 1994, 1999, or 2004. Ettakatol entered the limelight during the 2009 presidential elections in which Ben Jaafar declared his intention to run against Ben Ali. The regime obstructed Ben Jaafar’s candidacy by stipulating that candidates had to be party heads for at least two years prior to their presidential bid. His party had been legalized only in 2007.16 Ben Jaafar’s party contested the 2009 parliamentary elections but secured zero seats owing to regime harassment.17 The regime ensured his party, as Willis relays, never “succeeded in having a single representative at any level during the whole period of Ben Ali’s presidency.”18 Moncef Marzouki constituted his leftist party from urban middleclass lawyers. Although Marzouki is a physician and public health professor, his party’s leaders are legal professionals who came from the Tunisian League of Human Rights and other civil society groups in the 1990s. As Marzouki said, “I came from the middle class. All of the other leaders in the Tunisian League of Human Rights also came from the middle class, and cared most about issues like democracy and freedom of expression. When I tried to talk about socio-economic rights, they ignored me and said that socio-economic rights were less important than political rights.”19

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Marzouki’s party adopted center-left policies, favoring enhancing rule of law, civil liberties, and women’s rights. Marzouki sought to enter the presidential race of 1994, releasing a handwritten statement launching his campaign. Ben Ali’s regime blocked Marzouki and struck his announcement from newspapers. After discussing his attempted presidential campaign with a Spanish journalist, the regime jailed him.20 Only Nelson Mandela’s intervention liberated Marzouki. In the 1990s, Marzouki opposed Tunisia’s Islamists, describing them as “a serpent nourished by the regime that sought a firewall against movements inspired by the left.”21 Marzouki’s leftists particularly feared, as Willis observes, Islamists’ “theocratic tendencies” and goal “to reduce the legal rights Bourguiba had granted women.” Thus, the leftists eschewed alliances with Islamists, favoring Ben Ali’s reign over Ennahda’s legalization.22 From the 1970s until the 2000s, Tunisian “opposition parties,” as Melani Cammett summates, “remained weak in part because harassment from the regime deterred party leaders from mobilizing a mass base.”23 In what grassroots support they could collect, leftists and Islamists built urban social bases of middle-class professionals. In effect, Tunisia’s regime drew on similar constituencies. Beginning under Bourguiba, Tunisia had built a ruling party ensconced in urban areas (especially Tunis). Since Tunisia’s opposition parties competed over its regime’s social base of support, it did not tolerate their electoral participation. Even with the Ettakatol Party, which gained legalization, the regime ensured its leader, Mustapha Ben Jaafar, could not tap the party’s urban social base to challenge the ruling party. Because of opposition parties’ urban bases, Tunisia’s regime looked to repression—rather than subtler strategies of co-optation—as its main tactic to contain them. Instigating Tunisia’s Alliance: New Antiterrorism Law, 2003–2005 A new threat from Ben Ali’s regime emerged in 2003, which motivated leftists and Islamists to build an alliance. Leftists and Islamists began their alliance in 2005, enhanced their coordination as Ben Ali’s regime verged toward collapsed in 2011, and sustained their cooperation until early 2014.

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances  ■  57

While the nature of cooperation between Tunisia’s opposition parties before 2011 was not a carbon copy of cooperation after 2011, it nevertheless provides an illustrative case of sustained, long-term coordination between leftists and Islamists. The story of why Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists forged an alliance preceded the 2000s, however. It began following Ben Ali’s 1987 bloodless coup against Habib Bourguiba during which Tunisia’s opposition parties pursued democratic change, which ultimately faltered. Initially, oppositionists perceived Ben Ali’s coup as an opportunity for democratization. As Larbi Sadiki notes, when “the three last years of the then president-for-life’s rule were the most illiberal,” Ben Ali’s coup provided hope for democratization. A military man known for neutrality, Ben Ali would occupy Carthage Palace temporarily to provide transitional stability while elections were organized. Speaking for Tunisia’s Islamists, Rachid Ghannouchi stated, “We treated Ben Ali’s presidency as one step to be followed by other steps, other phases for laying out a comprehensive democratic agenda involving all political forces. We were hoping for genuine renewal, new leadership, and a real chance for Tunisia.”24 The opposition parties convened in 1988 to sign what became known as the Tunisian National Pact. The agreement included not only leftists affiliated with Marzouki’s and Ben Jaafar’s parties but also other opposition groups. Islamists attended the meeting, and observed deliberations, but did not have Ennahda Party authority to sign the pact.25 The pact clarified a number of key points between the regime and the leftists, notably rights of dissent and electoral integrity. Ben Ali responded positively, releasing nearly three thousand political prisoners, nullifying presidentfor-life legal provisions, and declaring his commitment to pluralism.26 He overturned most of the Islamists’ harsh prison sentences and communicated with Ghannouchi about Islamist prisoners’ social reintegration.27 Ben Ali pledged that the 1989 elections would be free. Scholars lauded the Tunisian National Pact; Lisa Anderson analogized it to Spain’s 1978 Pact of Moncloa (an agreement whereby King Juan Carlos and opposition parties facilitated democratization).28 Ben Ali could potentially be a Juan Carlos–style reformer stewarding democratization. However, when the elections approached, Ben Ali revealed he was no Juan Carlos. The regime revitalized its party (previously Bourguiba’s

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PSD) to reinforce authoritarian rule and bolster its waning influence in cities. It replaced 40 percent of the party’s cadre leadership with younger urban activists.29 Subsequently, the party, renamed the Democratic Constitutional Rally (Rassemblement constitutionnel démocratique [RCD]),30 dominated the 1989 elections by winning a landslide of parliamentary seats and communes. The regime denied the Islamists a permit, leading them to run as independent candidates. They captured 15 percent of votes nationally and were especially strong in major cities, where they secured more than 30 percent of votes.31 Remaining opposition parties won no more than 3 percent of votes.32 Ghannouchi’s Islamists recruited, trained, and deployed over twelve hundred poll watchers in Tunis.33 The 1989 elections’ results indicated that both Ben Ali’s regime party and the Islamists competed over a largely urban, Tunis-based social constituency. The regime moved to limit the Islamists’ power. It denied the Islamists’ second formal request for a permit in June 1989 and ignored its third request in December. The denial notice stated some Islamists had criminal records, preventing legalization. Fearing an impending crackdown, Ghannouchi and some Ennahda leaders fled to London, where they stayed until 2011. Some Islamists remained to operate the movement’s news­paper, alFajr. In early 1991, the crackdown started. The regime banned the Islamist newspaper; its police dispersed Islamist-led protests. By December more than a hundred Ennahda Islamists had been imprisoned. The regime alleged that the Islamists had planned terrorist attacks. Outraged at the crackdown, a renegade group from Ennahda set fire to an RCD office in early 1991.34 As Tunisia passed into the 1990s, its regime professed to support a gradual democratic transition. Yet this claim’s credibility declined.35 Pluralism did increase owing to the legalization of the MDS and several small opposition parties, which captured about 19 percent of seats in the 1994 parliamentary elections. However, the opposition parties that could have realistically challenged the regime—the Islamists and Marzouki and Ben Jaafar’s leftists—were blocked from politics. Ben Ali’s regime increased the use of repression in 2003, which threatened both leftists and Islamists. It promulgated a new antiterrorism law that unleashed a wave of repression, motivating a left-Islamist alliance.

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances  ■  59

Ostensibly, the law sought to reduce Tunisia’s vulnerability to terrorism. The regime imprisoned scores of Islamist sympathizers, who it claimed supported terrorism. However, it also targeted non-Islamist oppositionists, with no alleged connection to terrorism. The regime used the law to block the Tunisian Human Rights League and the Tunisian Journalists’ Association from holding national congresses.36 It used the law to dissolve the leadership of the Association of Tunisian Judges. Hitherto, the regime had granted these organizations autonomy. Yet the new law legally justified intensifying repression. Although Tunisia’s regime had used repression in the past, this legal change represented an unprecedented move, worsening the situation of Islamists and leftists. Although Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists did not always have amicable relations in the early 1990s and held strikingly divergent ideologies and policy programs, the former began to realize that laws legalizing the repression of the latter “targeted all independent civil and political forces,” as Lufti Hajji notes. A consensus emerged, as Hajji explains, among leftists that the “authorities’ repression rather than the Islamists” posed “the real danger” to Tunisia’s democratization.37 Explaining leftist rapprochement with the Islamists in the early 2000s, Moncef Marzouki noted that “a notion emerged between the opposition parties that the key difference was not between Islamists and secularists, but between democrats and nondemocrats. We came to view the enemy not as the Islamists but as the corrupt dictator. We overcame this important divide, while we otherwise would have perhaps had the same clashes and conflicts as in Egypt.” Marzouki said this rapprochement “emerged from the many discussions that I had personally—many nights and nights—with Rachid Ghannouchi in London. I had a personal role in this consensus-building. We wanted his party, the Islamists, to recognize democracy and accept it as Tunisia’s system of governance; he asked for us to accept his party as legitimate and recognize its right to participate.” In finalizing the rapprochement with Ennahda, Marzouki said, “We’ll protect your right to participate as a party if you also accept the rules of democracy. We agreed, and then they agreed.”38 Also, as one Ennahda Islamist remarked, the leftists came during this time period to realize that they and the Islamists diverged considerably in their ideologies and programs, notably on policies related to “women’s

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issues, freedom of religious belief, and personal liberties.”39 Yet the leftists also simultaneously came to understand that the Islamists were an inextricable component of the “underpinnings of Tunisian society.” Hence, they would not fundamentally threaten it following a possible regime collapse. Any successful coalition among opposition parties necessitated inclusion of Islamists, not their exclusion. Reaching this realization undermined regime efforts to scare leftists away from cooperation with Islamists.40 Building on this logic, and resisting Ben Ali’s antiterrorism law, the opposition parties formed the 18 October Alliance. Initially, they signed the Call of Tunis agreement in 2003 in France declaring their coalition but did not launch joint activities in contestation as allies until 2005. Over time, the 18 October Alliance formed in 2005 evolved into the left-Islamist coalition that governed Tunisia after the 2011 uprisings, the Troika Alliance. The lead parties in this 2005 alliance were an Islamist party, the Ennahda Party, and two leftist parties, Moncef Marzouki’s Congress for the Republic Party and Mustapha Ben Jaafar’s Ettakatol Party. For the first time in twenty years, leftists and Islamists had overcome their ideological differences and converged in the 18 October Alliance.41 They would converge into one united bloc to resist Ben Ali’s regime and especially its repressive 2003 antiterrorism law, evolving into a successful, enduring alliance forged in response to this threat. Ultimately, as Lindsay Benstead describes, the 18 October Alliance would go on to serve as a platform for a “new political order based on consensus and compromise between various groups and interests” in the postrevolutionary period. Going further, she suggests that (alongside other factors) the long-term, durable 18 October Alliance “played a vital role in laying the foundations of the 2010–2011 rebellion.”42 The Social Bases of Morocco’s Leftists and Islamists, 1960–2007 Morocco’s leftist party’s first elections—the 1960 professional association elections—showed its urban middle-class social base. The leftists secured control over several middle-class professional associations, like the teachers’ and doctors’ syndicates. They defeated rivals by working closely with

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances  ■  61

their union, the Moroccan Workers’ Union (the Union marocaine du travail [UMT]). In large cities like Rabat, Oujda, al-Jadida, and Safi, the leftists captured all seats. The leftists’ urban support, Rémy Leveau observes, came from a “large program of municipal socialism: building schools, hospitals, housing, and restoring slums.”43 Elections in the early 1960s showed that the leftists—with their socialist, secular policy program—had built a large social base. Yet “the left,” as Henry Munson avers, failed to “overcome the perception that it was hostile to Islam.”44 Several key leaders emerged in the leftist party, including Mehdi Ben Barka, Abderrahim Bouabid, and Abdallah Ibrahim.45 Following the creation of Guédira’s party, the leftists adopted a confrontational stance toward the regime. They alleged that it embodied a “feudal system” that sought the “preservation and revival of traditional structures of Moroccan society,” obstructing democratization.46 Mehdi Ben Barka also published a book, The Revolutionary Option in Morocco, which criticized the king. It declared, “No real reform could emerge in a situation of absolute power.”47 Such a confrontational approach helped the leftists develop a “particular constituency in urban, middle-class cadres and young people with a modern education,” as Rémy Leveau writes.48 Not all leftists agreed, however. In 1963 many leftist unionists resigned from the party, saying they were reticent to strike for radical causes.49 A group of white-collar unionists—mostly teachers and public employees— remained affiliated, though. They provided the foundation for new partyallied unions in future decades.50 In May 1963 the leftist party voted to adopt Ben Barka’s revolutionary strategy. The regime clamped down by jailing leftists and declaring a state of emergency between 1965 and 1970.51 Party activities were banned. The regime’s oppression climaxed with Ben Barka’s disappearance in 1965, likely assassinated. A royal insider’s 2014 memoir recounted the “murmured story” that the leftist’s head was presented to the king.52 After failed coup attempts and bombings by renegade leftists, the king agreed to reintroduce elections.53 But factions over electoral participation opened between the leftist party’s Rabat office, now led by Bouabid, and the party’s Casablanca office. The Rabat office renamed itself the Socialist Union of Popular Forces.

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After nearly fifteen years of electoral boycotts, Bouabid’s USFP had finalized its choice. The leftist party would advocate for reform by elections, renouncing violence. The party proclaimed this at its 1975 “Congress of a New Beginning.” Favoring socialist policies, the leftists demanded agrarian reform and state economic planning.54 The leftists also advocated secularism, refusing to don djellabas for a royal speech.55 Wearing these cloaks signals subservience in monarchical Islamic symbology.56 However, once the leftists agreed to compete in the 1976 communal elections, the regime resurrected old tactics.57 Like building Guédira’s party in 1963, the regime began collecting traditional rural politicians to counterbalance the leftists. These candidates, who held no official party affiliation, became known as the “Independents” and captured 70 percent of seats. They secured control over most communes, mobilizing voters within clientelist networks.58 Sixty percent of these candidates listed their professions as farmer or peasant, and more than 50 percent were illiterate.59 What became evident was that the Independents—like Guédira’s party—had royal ties. The king’s brother-in-law revealed himself as the founder of the Independents and announced his new party’s name, the National Rally of Independents (Rassemblement national des indépendants [RNI]). The leftists demonstrated their urban base in the 1976 elections. They secured 874 communal representative seats, winning on average 60 to 80 percent in larger cities.60 Leftist candidates were drawn primarily from the urban middle class. Of the sixteen elected to parliament in 1977, 33 percent were teachers, 14 percent lawyers, and 7 percent public employees. Only 3 percent were farmers or peasants.61 The leftists, Jean-Claude Santucci surmises, won “regions in the process of modernization” transforming under “the growing weight of the middle class.” They aimed to be this class’s “privileged representative.”62 In the 1983 communal elections, again, the regime responded with its classic strategy to counter opposition. The regime’s interior minister created a loyalist party that relied on traditional rural politicians, the Constitutional Union (Union constitutionnelle [UC] or Hizb al-ittiHaad ad-dustuurii).63 It moved to contain the leftists’ rising popularity.64 The UC

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances  ■  63

became known as the “pressure-cooker” party and, in under two months, recruited droves of traditional politicians to win second place.65 However, as Morocco entered the mid-1990s, changes began to take place. The leftists did well in the 1993 parliamentary elections, but they rejected the king’s offer to form a ruling majority government. The new 1996 constitution satisfied some leftist core concerns by reducing kingappointed ministers.66 These changes motivated the leftists to enter the government, which they did following the 1997 parliamentary elections. They formed the alternance government led by former leftist political prisoner Abderrahman al-Youssoufi.67 In the 1997 communal elections, the leftists enlarged their share of communal representatives to 12 percent, which clustered in urban middle-class strongholds.68 Yet the leftists faced difficulties in the alternance government. Because of the electoral strength of rural loyalist parties, they did not secure an absolute parliamentary majority. So they had to share ministries with other parties, which reduced their strength and capacity to implement reforms.69 Morocco’s Islamist party became legal in 1998, but its history began in the 1970s. The Islamists who founded the Justice and Development Party started politics in Abdelkrim Mouti’s clandestine Islamist organization, the Islamic Youth (ash-sha‘biba al-islaamiyyah). Mouti encouraged the Islamists to take a “revolutionary orientation” toward Morocco’s regime.70 Cleavages opened between the Islamists about this approach, which deepened in 1981 when some were imprisoned.71 Whereas Mouti fled into exile, many Islamists—including Abdelilah Benkirane—decided to form a legal organization. Islamist leader Benkirane submitted paperwork in 1983 to gain legal status as a proselytizing group. This da’wa movement provided the foundations of what would become Benkirane’s Islamist party, developing roots in large urban areas.72 However, a debate began among the Islamists about whether they should become a political party. One Islamist leader cautioned that “the political arena is the most dangerous area for Islam, where, by dealing with politics, it could corrupt itself, thereby undermining Islamic values.”73 Yet the electoral success of other Islamist movements encouraged them. In an Islamist newspaper, al-Islah, they concluded that

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recent elections evidenced that Islamists could “become the biggest opposition force” against autocrats.74 The Islamists requested authorization to turn their proselytizing group into a party in 1992, which was denied. Subsequently, the Islamists decided to enlist in an existing party. However, its leader expressed “little enthusiasm” about integrating the Islamists, as Benkirane recalled.75 What changed the leader’s mind was the intervention of a royal adviser, Ahmed Bensouda. One Islamist leader recalled that Bensouda conveyed the “king’s opinion that we should enter into elections,” especially “given the coinciding unfortunate events in Algeria.”76 The king sought to draw the Islamists into palace-managed electoral competition to limit their influence and stunt their growth (which, ultimately, was only partially successful).77 The Islamists moved to rally their social base before the 1997 parliamentary elections.78 The Islamists gathered a popular following in Casablanca, Tangier, Rabat, Fès, Meknès, Oujda, and Agadir. As Michael Willis notes, the Islamists built a social base in a “robust and enthusiastic” manner, cultivating an “image of being close to ordinary people and their concerns.”79 In this era, the Islamists focused on religious issues.80 They would “fight until victory over the secularists,” Benkirane declared. They would combat “usury, alcohol, and prostitution.”81 During the late 1990s, Morocco’s Islamists gathered a social base, as Eva Wegner notes, with a “decidedly urban character” based on middleclass professionals, especially unionized teachers, public employees, and students. Like Morocco’s leftists, its Islamists rallied these supporters into a labor union, the National Union of Moroccan Labor (Union nationale du travail au Maroc [UNTM]). In a survey of Islamist party members, Wegner discovered that 56 percent were unionists and 54 percent worked in public institutions.82 Under Prime Minister al-Youssoufi’s government, the leftists’ strongest policy statements opposed the regime’s increasing neoliberalism, resisting budget austerity and privatization.83 By contrast, the Islamists, as A. Kadir Yildrim notes, “adhered to a liberal economic discourse without reservations.”84 “We believe in the free market,” Islamist party president

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Benkirane explained. “But we think the state needs to take up its role to restore economic balance and justice in society. We support pro-social neoliberalism.”85 What became clear about the leftist-led government by 2000 was that it did not spearhead major democratic reforms. Because of these failures, leftists faced problems as the 2002 elections approached. Leftist leaders changed electoral tack, deciding to recruit traditional politicians based in rural areas—the regime’s historic supporters—into their party as candidates. They believed such politicians could help them win more votes and an absolute parliamentary majority, through mobilizing their clientelist ties. This decision became known as the policy of political efficacy (al-faa‘iliyyah as-siyaasiyyah). Prominent among traditional politicians who became leftists were a minister, Said Shabatou, and two notables, Mohamed Boughlem and Moulay Ahmed Snoussi. By recruiting such candidates, the leftist party aimed to enhance its influence, yet this decision would dramatically change the opposition party’s nature. Shabatou’s story is illustrative. Born in a tribal area of Midelt Province, Shabatou’s notable family gained prominence by fighting the French in the anticolonial battles of the late 1910s. Shabatou became a candidate for the 1997 parliamentary elections, gathering support from the tribes. Shabatou, as Zakari Boubari (a leftist regional president in Midelt) said, understood his region’s “tribal terrain” well. “He knew all the tribes, their traditions, and their particularities. This empowered Shabatou to know their problems, and how to correct them.” Shabatou’s political acumen built upon his family’s large local influence: his sister worked as a hospital administrator, whereas his brother served as a regional military official. “Shabatou’s familial power,” as Boubari explained, “evolved into political power.”86 Shabatou became minister of the peasantry, rural development, and coasts. He gained powers over water and forest policy, whereby he could aid voters within his clientelist network. Before the 2002 elections, a leftist leader, Habib al-Maliki, offered to integrate Shabatou into the socialist party. But Shabatou had few incentives to join the leftist party, as he already had many rural supporters. Ultimately, Shabatou surmised that his current party would do less to help

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rural regions than the leftists, who had a history of contentious activism. Nevertheless, this fact did not motivate most rural citizens who began to vote for leftists: “People joined the socialists because of Shabatou and other traditional politicians not because of socialism and its principles,” as Boubari noted. “The USFP benefited electorally from this decision.”87 After the 2002 elections, the leftists’ decision to integrate traditional rural politicians helped them retain power in the 2002–7 government. Had the leftists not captured new votes in rural areas, they likely would have lost more seats. However, the leftists had to regularly counter “Islamist accusations that they were hostile to Islamic culture and values,” as Anouar Boukhars writes.88 The Islamists’ unexpected gains and widespread support in the 2007 elections shocked politics. Moreover, they may have won an absolute parliamentary majority had they not willfully limited their electoral competition to avoid provoking the regime.89 The Islamists were poised to win the upcoming 2003 communal elections.90 The Casablanca terrorist attacks of May 2003 tempered Islamists’ success when the communal elections were held in September 2003. Yet the Islamists captured communal seats in Marrakesh, Tangier, and Casablanca. Islamist mayors won control of key large cities, including Meknès, Kenitra, and Temara.91 The Islamists won 4.48 percent of total votes and approximately five hundred total communal representative seats. The party focused on major urban areas, submitting candidate slates for about 50 percent of communes of more than twenty-five thousand residents. For rural communes, the party submitted candidates for only 6 percent. In sum, Morocco’s Islamists originated as an urban-based opposition party in the 1990s and have retained this urban base, despite expanding considerably in the 2000s. Continuing with their 2002 electoral strategy, the leftists expanded their support in rural areas in the 2003 communal elections, winning 14 percent of total votes and approximately twenty-six hundred positions. Although the party had lost parliamentary seats, its political support expanded in rural communes. Communal elections elect a party’s lowest-level elected politicians, communal representatives and mayors, who work daily with grassroots supporters. Their social characteristics serve as reasonable proxies for the

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances  ■  67 Table 5 Social bases of Moroccan leftists and Islamists Opposition party

Leftist USFP (N = 2,524)

Islamist PJD (N = 477)

82%

43%

High illiteracy?

83%

47%

High poverty?

62%

32%

Village district?

71%

29%

Predominantly Arab region?

64%

80%

Rural?

Source: Author’s data set of 2003 communal elections (elected communal representative is unit; 1,481 of 1,500 communes).

attributes of a party’s social base. Table 5 shows that, after the 2003 communal elections, Morocco’s leftist party had ruralized, constituting itself primarily of politicians hailing from rural communes possessing higherthan-average illiteracy and poverty rates (compared with national averages taken from census data). After 2003 the leftist party lost significant support in its traditional urban strongholds, especially Casablanca and Tangier. One exception was Agadir, where leftist Tariq Kabbage became mayor.92 Some leftist leaders have also noticed their party’s ruralization. As Mohammed Sassi explained, “The USFP has managed to keep its core, leftist leaders but, for the rest, everything is changing in the party’s mode of recruitment and management. Its electoral base is primarily rural. When notables close to the regime join the party, they do so not for proclaimed ideology but for pragmatism.”93 Before the 2007 parliamentary elections, the leftist party’s ruralization intensified. The party’s president announced he would recruit candidates based on their capacity to win elections given their clientelist networks, not adherence to leftist beliefs. The party recruited traditional politicians, such as Hassan Derhem, who had ties among tribes in the Saharan provinces.94 Indeed, by the early 2000s, the Islamists tended to elect politicians from urban communes with lower illiteracy and largely without clientelist hierarchies, whereas the leftists disproportionately elected politicians from rural communes, where illiteracy and clientelism robust remained robust.

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Instigating Morocco’s Alliance: Creation of a Palace Party, 2007–2009 Morocco’s leftists and Islamists allied in the late 2000s in response to a threat—a new regime-backed loyalist party. Although the regime created this loyalist party to undermine the Islamist party, its emergence menaced all opposition parties. The new loyalist party strove to monopolize politics in ways both the leftists and the Islamists found dangerous. They feared that the loyalist party’s creation harkened a return to an earlier, more oppressive era.95 The dramatic rise in Islamist power after the 2002 elections piqued the regime’s concern.96 The king’s childhood friend and deputy interior minister, Fouad Ali al-Himma, and some leftist leaders, especially Mohamed el-Yazghi, proposed banning the Islamists.97 Al-Himma argued that Islamist-controlled cities could hurt the economy by discouraging foreign investors and tourism (through alcohol or bikini bans). Further, although the Islamists did not execute the 2003 Casablanca attacks, some leftists accused them of having “moral responsibility.” The Islamists encouraged the bombings by their “statements and discourse,” Yazghi explained.98 En face Yazghi and some leftists advocated banning the Islamists for supporting terrorism, but their real motivation had historical origins. Since the 1970s, Morocco’s leftists and Islamists had clashed, which cultivated antipathy. Incidents included the 1975 assassination of a leftist leader and unionist, Omar Benjelloun. The Islamists accept responsibility for the Benjelloun crime but maintain that their former leader perpetrated it. “Mouti’ acted on a personal problem he had with Benjelloun, not representing our party,” one Islamist parliamentary deputy explained.99 Leftists’ and Islamists’ policy programs and ideologies also conflict. When the leftists first entered elected government, the Islamists initially expressed optimism toward working with them until they announced secularizing policies. Islamists disagreed with leftists’ plans to reform family laws. The leftists, according to James Sater, introduced reforms that would “increase the economic capacity of women” through “literacy and reproductive health.”100 The Islamists saw leftist policies as empowering women inconsistent with Islamic values.101 The leftists’ reforms, as Islamist

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deputy Bassima Hakkoui explained, “imported ideas for the outside.”102 The Islamists declared that the leftists “needed to learn to reform their stances and discourse that are against the religious identity and heritage of Morocco.”103 The Islamists also criticized the leftists’ policies when the latter hosted the 2002 Congress of the Socialist International in Casablanca. Two representatives of the Israeli labor party attended the summit.104 The Islamists accused the leftists of easing the Israelis’ travel to Morocco. Whereas “the leftists had welcomed Zionist ministers with Palestinian blood stained on their hands,” the Islamists “had rejected the presence of the legation.”105 Throughout the 2000s, enhancing Islamic values remained core to the Islamists’ ideology. Islamist leaders from the party’s socially conservative wing, like Mostafa Ramid, called for banning Marock (a film that mocked Islamic prayer) and Elton John (as an openly gay performer).106 Even moderate Islamist leaders, such as Lahcen Daoudi and Saadeddine Othmani, condemned the social costs of alcohol107 and abortion.108 “On nearly every major issue,” one former leftist minister said, “there has been a big difference between our parties. The USFP defends things like modernity, women’s rights, gender equality, enlightenment ideas, and citizen rights in the arts and culture. And the PJD defends nearly every thing against these things; that has made any possibility of an alliance difficult.”109 Hence, not only the regime but also some leftists had reasons to push for a ban on the Islamist party in 2003. The ban failed, however. Its proponents could not muster sufficient support to pass the legal resolutions. Moreover, resistance emerged from younger leftists, including Driss Lachgar and Hassan Tarek, who had less antipathy for the Islamists. Because its Islamist ban failed, the regime created a new strategy to weaken the party. This strategy centered on al-Himma. Ultimately, it threatened not only the Islamists but also the leftists, motivating them to initiate an alliance in 2009. Himma resigned from his Interior Ministry post and won as an independent candidate in the 2007 parliamentary elections. Thereafter, Himma founded an anti-Islamist social movement, the Movement for All Democrats. Himma’s movement would inject “new blood” into politics, which suffered from voter apathy (a 37 percent

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turnout rate).110 In larger Islamist-controlled cities, such as Kenitra and Meknés, participation sank to 23 and 29 percent.111 The only activists excluded from Himma’s movement were Islamists. Their “project for society disturbs me,” Himma insisted. “It closes the door to modernity.” “The PJD is a political adversary,” not a collaborator.112 By August 2008, al-Himma had transformed his movement into a loyalist party that aimed to undermine Islamist power. “Himma entered politics to destroy the Islamists,” one of his party’s former leaders stressed. “It was written on his business card.”113 Himma named his party the Party of Authenticity and Modernity. Yet given his closeness to King Mohammed VI, the PAM gained a familiar moniker, the “king’s party.” Much like Reda Guédira’s FDIC party, few were surprised that Himma had converted his social movement into a loyalist party to combat opposition parties. Also like Guédira, Himma leveraged his Interior Ministry connections to grow his party. As one opposition leader explained, “the PAM throws huge parties in rural areas to buy votes, and drops campaign pamphlets from airplanes. That’s clear evidence of regime support; it would impossible to do those things otherwise. The regime created the PAM and wants it to become the ruling party, like Mubarak’s National Democratic Party in Egypt.”114 Yet Himma denied that the PAM was this era’s FDIC. “It’s not going to be the FDIC,” he asserted. “Every party is a product of its own era, its own context.”115 Himma began to expand the PAM before the 2009 communal elections to assert regime power. In co-opting politicians into his party, Himma implemented a strategy that he termed the “campaign of thickness.” This approach meant Himma absorbed the maximum number of candidates into his party to compete in as many communes as possible, without regard to a politician’s ideological beliefs, policy priorities, or governmental experience.116 Himma particularly strove to draw traditional rural politicians with deep local contacts—what is known as “son of the soil” politicians (walad al-arD)—into his new loyalist party. Born and raised in their districts, such politicians have close relations with local residents and can marshal votes by mobilizing clientelist networks. “Moroccans are simple,” one PAM leader noted. “They’ll vote for someone because he provides resources. He helps them with their daily problems, sets up a festival

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances  ■  71

tent during the election, and might, for example, get an ambulance for the neighborhood. Every party wants a candidate like that; they know he’ll win.”117 The “son of the soil” politician’s role in rural communities is to secure state resources, mediating between citizens and the regime. In its campaign the PAM adopted the symbol of a tractor, appealing to this rural social base. Several examples show what type of politicians got co-opted into Himma’s party and how both the party and the politicians concurrently benefited from co-optation. For instance, former mayor Abdelwahab Shagir, who ruled one commune just outside of Casablanca, consented to getting co-opted into the PAM. The PAM’s local head explained why it absorbed Shagir into its ranks. “He didn’t have party training,” he noted. “But, he was really good at helping people: getting them to the hospital, giving them money for medicine, and buying them clothes.”118 The loyalist party moved to co-opt Shagir to benefit from his deep clientelist relations with voters, increasing the PAM’s likelihood of electoral success. Shagir benefited because he thought cooperation with the “king’s party” would attract more resources. Especially in rural areas, where communities are closer and resources scarcer, these clientelist relations intensify in importance. In one rural commune, Dar Bouazza, the PAM moved to co-opt Abdelkarim Choukri, a mayor from a small opposition party. Heading one of the region’s influential families, Choukri controlled many local resources, including two large farms that employed dozens of peasant families. However, as an opposition politician, Choukri could not attract regime resources for economic development. Since he aimed to increase resources available for his rural commune’s residents, Choukri embraced the PAM’s co-optation. Indeed, he told the party’s leaders that he “wasn’t a beginner” at elections in rural areas and could mobilize clientelist hierarchies of peasant employees to win votes.119 He also helped the PAM successfully co-opt three politicians from other parties, pressuring them to incorporate into the PAM. Choukri provided an ideal politician for the PAM to co-opt to increase its power locally.120 Sometimes loyalist parties use co-optation to displace opposition politicians. Then they build new support using politicians with clientelist

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connections. In the rural commune of Mediouna, the PAM sought to unseat an incumbent opposition mayor. The PAM recruited a politician who hailed from an influential family, Salaheddine Aboughali, to run against the mayor. From his neglect, Mediouna had become a “garbage dump” with “slums and crime.” Drawing on his contacts with the regime, Aboughali built water wells and other development projects for the villagers before the election. Aboughali also encouraged five local politicians to defect from the mayor’s party and then co-opted them into the PAM. “Their party was ossified and stagnant,” as Aboughali stated. “The local politicians knew they would have better electoral chances with the PAM than with their old party.”121 After unseating the mayor, Aboughali leveraged his PAM contacts with the regime to enhance police security. In Ain Leuh, a rural commune in Ifrane Province, co-optation also helped the PAM gain power. In this case, the PAM co-opted Mohamed Huwaat, a member of the Boudraa tribe that resides in surrounding mountainous areas. In the 1990s, Huwaat became vice president of a local hospital, a position he obtained from having strong personal relations with a former minister of health (who also hailed from his province). Huwaat helped villagers with medical care and focused on delivering services to citizens. A candidate in the 2003 elections, Huwaat turned his local influence into political power by successfully rallying voters within his clientelist network to secure victory. The PAM targeted Huwaat for co-optation for the 2009 elections. The PAM’s regional secretary offered Huwaat the tazqiyah (party endorsement for candidacy) for the top spot on the loyalist party’s slate, if he would defect from his party and get co-opted into the PAM. Huwaat agreed. The PAM also devolved power to Huwaat to add other candidates to the slate, which he filled with his subordinate clients. Deploying this practice throughout villages, the PAM, as Andrew Barwig describes, “empowered” traditional politicians to select candidates, thereby turning slates into “vessels for prominent leaders in rural areas.”122 To finance the PAM’s electoral campaign locally, Huwaat’s raised money from sheepherders from his clientelist network, who owned approximately two thousand head each. Huwaat used these campaign funds underwritten by sheep wealth to buy votes, distributing between two and four hundred dirhams per vote (about twenty-five to fifty dollars).

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances  ■  73

After winning the election, they shifted development projects from the village’s center to its outskirts, the areas where his tribal supporters resided. While Huwaat and his allies benefited from his co-optation into the PAM, the loyalist party also gained by absorbing a politician with an extensive rural social base that could decide elections. To combat the Islamists, Himma created the PAM by co-opting traditional rural politicians. Yet the party’s emergence threatened both opposition parties—leftists and Islamists. “The PAM was the regime’s method to weaken the PJD,” as one Islamist deputy recalled. “If I want to face you in combat, I send someone else in my place first. That’s the PAM. If it doesn’t succeed, doesn’t destroy you, then I enter directly and take you head on.”123 Similarly, a month after Himma founded the PAM, the leftist party released a statement in September 2008. It criticized the regime’s “transgressions, pressure, influence-peddling, and public resources” used to create the PAM, which had “declared itself a dominant party.” The PAM’s practices “cause Morocco to go backwards” and “stall its building of democracy.”124 “Regarding the PAM,” one leftist secretariat general member surmised, we “reject any return to the old methods” of the Hassan II era and “oppose any special political or economic advantages given to one party.”125 “Morocco,” one leftist leader, Driss Lachgar, stated, “doesn’t have a need for a new regime party.”126 The PAM, Lachgar emphasized, threatened Morocco’s democratization. “Morocco has achieved much in the last decade in its transition to democracy,” one of Lachgar’s policy advisers elaborated. “All of us, from all political perspectives, should aim to preserve these gains. That is why we treat the PAM project with caution and awareness.”127 By creating the PAM in 2008, the regime threatened both leftists and Islamists in new, serious ways. The Social Bases of Mauritania’s Leftists and Islamists, 1968–2005 Mauritania’s leftists and Islamists have distinct social bases with origins in either urban or rural areas. Whereas Mauritania’s leftist party—the Union of Forces of Progress—started with both urban and rural supporters and

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has retained them over time, its Islamist counterpart—the National Rally for Reform and Development (the Tawassoul Party)—began predominantly as an urban party and has expanded into rural areas. Hence, over time, the Islamist party’s social base has changed, absorbing traditional rural politicians. From its beginning, Mauritania’s leftist party consisted of “peasants and workers,” as its president remarked.128 During the 1960s, it emerged from two predecessor socialist movements—the National Democratic Movement (Mouvement national démocratique [MND]) and the Toilers Movement (Harakat al-kadiHiin). The MND formed from a partnership between two urban-based teachers’ unions, the Arab Unionist Teachers and the National Union for Teachers. Because the former organized Arab and black Arab teachers while the latter represented African teachers, the MND became Mauritania’s first multiethnic party. Today the leftist party remains Mauritania’s most diverse party; combating slavery is a pillar of its policy program.129 The leftist party’s first contentious action came in Zouerate’s iron mines. Under the control of Mauritania’s public mining company, of which France owned 59 percent, the mines’ productivity expanded dramatically, from 1.678 million metric tons in 1963 to 7.447 million metric tons by 1967.130 France benefited handsomely from these mines, but ordinary miners’ wages and work conditions were bad. The leftist party organized a miners’ strike that began in 1968 and did not cease until violent army intervention.131 Thereafter, the leftists became, as Mohamed Lemine Ould Sidi Bab notes, committed to “toppling the ruling regime.”132 Because Mauritania’s industrial base remained small, the leftists realized they also needed to mobilize peasants, especially black Arab and African slaves and former slaves. The party began building a social base among peasants in the Triangle of Poverty, a subregion straddling the Brakna, Assaba, and Gorgol Provinces.133 There, 95 percent of residents persist on subsistence agriculture. The leftists sought to empower these marginalized peasants.134 Mostly teachers and students from urban educated families, the leftists would travel to rural areas to train slaves and former slaves in new farming techniques.135 The leftists, according to Sidi Bab, launched a “struggle with tribalism and the traditional leaders,”

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances  ■  75

who benefited from keeping peasants entrapped in sharecropping and clientelist systems.136 Mauritania’s leftists adopted Maoism rather than European socialism. Maoism was better for preindustrial Mauritania, which had only two electrified towns, seven physicians, and zero paved roads.137 Moktar Ould Daddah’s regime felt threatened by leftists’ efforts to liberate black Arab and African peasants from clientelist structures. Consequently, Daddah struck at the leftist party directly with co-optation. Daddah, from Mauritania’s Oulad Birri tribe of the South, moved to coopt other southern Arab tribesmen who had joined the leftist party in the late 1960s. He co-opted about twenty leftists into his regime’s party, who were made top leaders.138 From this experience early in the party’s history, the remaining leftists pledged to resist any future regime co-optation attempts. However, since the leftist party had relied on a mixed urban and rural social base, it had been more vulnerable to co-optation. The leftists founded a new party in 1975, the Kadihine.139 The Kadihine movement remained active in politics though became clandestine when numerous military coups occurred in the late 1970s and early 1980s. In 1978 the first coup replaced Daddah with a military general, Mustafa Ould Salek. He adopted repressive policies, including a ban on political parties. In 1981 some Kadihine leaders had backed the generals who had tried to overthrow Colonel Mohamed Khouna Ould Heydallah. Led by Moustapha Ould Badredine, leftists expelled these putschists from their party and pledged to pursue nonviolent change.140 In late 1984, Mauritania stabilized when Ma’aouya Sid Ahmed Ould Taya emerged as autocrat after a coup. He would hold power for the next twenty-one years. To enhance his support, Taya organized communal elections in 1986, though the leftists boycotted.141 Although he maintained the ban of political parties, Taya permitted candidates for communal representative posts to organize group slates. Taya founded a slate of candidates, the National Democratic Union (Union nationale démocratique [UND]). Using the same social forces that had built Moktar Ould Daddah’s party, Taya constituted the slate from traditional politicians nominated by strong local tribal assemblies. These Taya allies won all communes except for Nouakchott, where an oppositionist, Mohamed Mahmoud Ould Mah,

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became mayor.142 Coups had rocked politics, but the regime’s underlying rural, clientelist social structures remained unaffected. In this era new activists joined the leftists in oppositional politics, who would go on to create Mauritania’s Islamist party—the National Rally for Reform and Development (or the Rassemblement national pour la réforme et développement), known most commonly by its Arabic name, the Tawassoul Party. Ideologically, as Zekeria Ould Ahmed Salem describes, Mauritania’s Islamists promoted policies “echoing the development of political Islam in the rest of the Arabo-Muslim world,” seeking to revitalize Islamic values (like Tunisia’s and Morocco’s Islamist parties).143 Many Islamists received religious training at the Islamic Institute (Institut supérieur d’études et de recherches islamiques). Then, for university degrees, some— including the party’s president, Jemil Ould Mansour—traveled to other Arab states. This education gives, as Alex Thurston details, the party a social base drawn from an “energetic and influential segment of society” of “young, educated, urban activists.”144 Unlike the leftists who boycotted in 1986, the Islamists had backed Mah’s candidacy for Nouakchott mayor.145 They mobilized their urban social base, facilitated through mosques run by the group’s spiritual figurehead, Sheikh Mohamed el-Hacen Ould Dedew, in Arafat, Toujounine, and Nouakchott’s other urban ward communes. In 1991 opportunities for activism increased when Taya promulgated a new constitution, which legalized political parties and permitted broader electoral competition.146 Scheduling new elections—presidential, legislative, and communal—for 1992, Taya announced that he would found a new party, the Democratic and Social Republican Party (Parti républicain démocratique et social [PRDS]). The PRDS surmounted what Marianne Marty calls the “pinnacle of the traditional hierarchy” by recruiting politicians who commanded rural, clientelist networks.147 Taya took trips into the countryside to drum up support for his PRDS. In one five-day trip, Taya visited forty different villages.148 A quid pro quo developed between Taya and traditional rural politicians. If they joined his party, then they would gain access to the regime’s resources for agriculture, infrastructure, and other projects, which they could use to reward citizens bound to them by clientelism. By contrast, those traditional politicians who refused to join Taya’s party encountered difficulties obtaining

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances  ■  77

resources. This approach allowed Taya to build a system in which the PRDS worked through traditional politicians as intermediaries to citizens, whom they would mobilize in elections.149 Traditional politicians often received large gifts for their support, creating what Philippe Marchesin called “Toyota democracy,” in which pickups were exchanged for loyalty.150 Northern Arab tribes historically allied with Taya’s tribe, like the Oulad Bou Sbaa, began to gain influence. After 1991 the Islamists filed to register a new legal opposition party— the Ummah Party (Hizb al-ummah)—to compete in the 1992 communal and legislative elections. The regime rejected their permit. “It was felt,” as Anthony Pazzanita notes, that because “Mauritania was an Islamic Republic with an all-Muslim population, religion could not be permitted to become the exclusive province of one party.”151 The leftists entered the party of Ahmed Ould Daddah, the half brother of former autocrat Moktar Ould Daddah. He had returned from exile to compete in the 1992 presidential elections, founding a new party—the Union of Democratic Forces (Union des forces démocratiques [UFD]). The Islamists also joined the UFD. Although neither the leftists nor the Islamists saw Daddah as a visionary democratizer, given his family’s autocratic history, they viewed his candidacy as most likely to oust Taya. But the 1992 elections bolstered Taya’s power. Although Daddah secured 32 percent of the presidential vote, he rejected the results and withdrew his party from subsequent parliamentary elections (in which Taya’s party won fifty-two of sixty-two National Assembly deputy seats). After new parliamentary elections in 1997 and 2001, Taya’s PRDS further consolidated control, leaving the opposition controlling only ten of seventy-nine total seats.152 Taya mobilized his party to prevent opposition parties from challenging his rule by using its links with traditional rural politicians. While Taya dominated national-level legislative institutions, the opposition used local governments—especially urban communes—to contest his regime. Following the communal elections of 1994, the opposition captured 17 of the 208 communes and gained governing authority in several key urban communes, such as Nouakchott and larger cities, like Kaedi. In October 2001, likewise, oppositionists asserted themselves

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by winning several larger urban cities in communal elections, such as Boghé and 5 of 9 of Nouakchott’s urban ward communes—Toujounine, Teyarett, Arafat, el-Mina, and Riadh.153 As candidates of the UFD, Mauritania’s Islamists gained their first direct experience in electoral politics during these communal elections and won offices in several urban communes, notably Nouakchott. Current Islamist party president Jemil Ould Mansour became mayor of Nouakchott’s Arafat ward, capturing 63 percent of the vote.154 Arafat is the largest, most densely populated urban commune in Mauritania with Arab and black Arab residents of primarily middle-class backgrounds.155 With their success in Arafat and other urban ward communes of Nouakchott, the Islamists demonstrated that as candidates of the UFD, they commanded a social base in cities, where traditional social structures and tribes are mostly nonexistent. As one journalist observed, the Islamists were a “force” that was “attributed to an urban phenomenon.”156 A chain of events in the 1990s and 2000s, however, facilitated the splintering of the UFD, undermining its strength as an oppositional force. Thereafter, Mauritania’s leftists and Islamists emerged as distinct opposition parties, outside Ahmed Ould Daddah’s party. Following the opposition’s gains in the January 1994 communal elections, the authorities oppressed the UFD’s Islamist wing by imprisoning Jemil Ould Mansour and sixty Islamists for a two-week period. Although Taya released Mansour and the Islamists, they had to apologize on television and promise to heed the 1991 constitution that forbids religious parties.157 Subsequently, some Islamists left Ahmed Ould Daddah’s party and established a civil society group, the Islamic Association (al-raabiTah al-islaamiyyah). It aimed to reverse Taya’s opening of diplomatic relations with Israel through urban protests, especially in Nouakchott in 2005. Likewise, the leftists left Ahmed Ould Daddah’s UFD in 1998, because he had agreed to integrate a group of Nasserists into his party.158 The Nasserists were accused of advocating for discriminatory laws against black Arabs and Africans and also of supporting ethnic pogroms of African soldiers in the early 1990s.159 Because these adherents to the UFD had interests inimical to those of a key constituency in the leftists’ social base, black Arab and African peasants, the faction made a decision to establish their

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances  ■  79

own party. By 2000 the leftists had adopted a name, the Union of Forces of Progress.160 However, even with greater distance from formal party politics, the Islamists were not immune from Taya’s repression. In 2003 state security imprisoned thirty-two Islamists. The incarcerated included the majority of the Islamist party’s leadership, including Jemil Ould Mansour. He was expelled from his position as mayor of Arafat.161 The Islamists remained detained until a failed military coup during which the prison’s doors opened, permitting Mansour and Wadia to flee into exile. Other Islamists willingly returned to prison after Taya restored order, portraying themselves as law-abiding citizens jailed for political reasons. Eventually, Mansour returned to Mauritania, but he was apprehended at the airport and was released only in early 2005 after a hunger strike.162 In August 2005, external events opened a new, critical chapter in Mauritania’s history. While Taya attended King Fahad’s funeral in Saudi Arabia, a group of military leaders—his closest advisers—ousted the autocrat from power. Army colonels Ely Ould Mohamed Vall and Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz orchestrated the coup, which was bloodless. The putschists received backing from Taya’s presidential guard and eighteen former ministers, who pledged support for democratization. Mauritania would mimic recent transitions of neighboring Senegal and Mali.163 That the top brass needed neither curfew nor riot police to stabilize Nouakchott after Taya’s removal meant many Mauritanians were supportive thereof.164 Following the 2005 coup, new presidential, legislative, and communal elections were announced. The legislative and communal elections were scheduled for 2006, whereas the presidential contest was scheduled for 2007. What is important from these results is to demonstrate that the social base of the leftists remained intact, whereas that of the Islamists began to change. In analyzing elected communal representative from both parties, the leftists kept their social base by electing representatives in predominantly rural and non-Arab areas. This popular following comes from the party’s long-standing ideological commitment to Maoism inherited from its predecessor, the Kadihine movement, and its desire to free black Arab and African peasants from clientelist bonds. Since their party’s inception, the leftists have had a mixed urban and rural base, specifically advocating

80  ■  Why Alliances Fail Table 6 Social bases of Mauritanian leftists and Islamists Opposition party

Leftist UFP (N = 209)

Islamist Tawassoul (N = 150)

81%

57%

High illiteracy?

76%

65%

High poverty?

86%

35%

Village district?

54%

36%

Predominantly Arab region?

49%

90%

Rural?

Source: Author’s data set of 2006 communal elections (elected communal representative is unit; all 217 communes).

policies aiming to overturn the traditional social structures of rural areas that have historically reinforced Mauritania’s regime. Unlike Mauritania’s leftists, whose social base remained static, its Islamists’ social base had begun to realign by 2006—like Morocco’s leftists. Mauritania’s Islamist party has evolved from an urban-based opposition party to one that also includes significant rural constituencies (see table 6). After the 2006 communal elections, a majority of the party’s candidates were elected in rural communes with above-average illiteracy rates (compared with national averages). The Islamist party disproportionately won in communes in predominantly Arab geographic regions. Initiating Mauritania’s Alliance: Democratization and Coup, 2005–2008 Following the 2005 coup against autocrat Ma’aouya Sid Ahmed Ould Taya, Mauritania entered a phase of optimism as it transitioned toward democracy. When this democratization experiment became threatened in Mauritania’s national-level politics, it motivated leftists and Islamists to unite in an alliance. Between 2005 and 2008, Mauritania sought to consolidate its democracy but eventually failed at the hands of Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz and former loyalists of Taya’s regime. The threat posed by these actors—apparatchiks of the ancien régime—motivated an alliance between leftists and Islamists.

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The military leaders who ousted Taya in August 2005 pledged that their coup would bring democracy. A seventeen-person committee of generals and colonels, known as the Military Council for Justice and Democracy (Conseil militaire pour la justice et la démocratie [CMJD]), agreed to oversee a twenty-four- to thirty-six-month transition period.165 One colonel became its figurehead as transitional president, Ely Ould Mohamed Vall.166 The CMJD took genuine steps toward democratization. Vall met with the opposition—political parties, labor unions, and civil society. He disbanded Taya’s dominant regime party, the PRDS, which was reconstituted as a nonregime party, the Republican Party for Democracy and Renewal (Parti républicain pour la démocratie et renouveau [PRDR]).167 The PRDS and its successor party—the PRDR—relied on traditional politicians whose power rested on clientelist and tribal ties. The CMJD’s most important achievement came by passing a new constitutional referendum in June 2007 that limited the president’s powers and imposed term limits.168 These formal de jure changes that took place between 2005 and 2008 masked the de facto reality that Taya loyalists retained power. “The real reason for the change was to ensure nothing actually changed,” as Boubacar N’Diaye observed. “A complete break with the Taya era was not a priority for the junta.”169 By removing Taya from power, the military council had assuaged popular dissatisfaction. Yet few realized that Taya’s relatives and closest confidants continued to hold power. Transitional president Vall was Taya’s nephew and had headed the autocrat’s domestic intelligence.170 Two other top army leaders who led the coup—Colonel Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz and Colonel Mohamed Ould Ghazwani—had served as commander of Taya’s presidential guard and his director of military intelligence, respectively. Also related to Taya, Abdel Aziz had strong relations with his cousin transitional president Vall.171 These men, and nearly all other members of the military council, were traditional politicians who hailed from the northern Arab tribes—particularly the Smassides (Taya’s tribe), the Oulad Bou Sbaa (Vall and Abdel Aziz’s tribe), and the Idewaali. These were the core supporters of Taya’s deposed regime.172 Results from the subsequent 2006 and 2007 elections for positions in the communes, the parliament, and the presidency evidenced that Taya’s regime had not disintegrated. Held in 2006, the communal elections

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elected the country’s mayors and communal representatives in Mauritania’s 217 communes of urban and rural areas. As in Morocco, Mauritania’s communes are governed by coalitions of parties that cooperate to elect a mayor supported by a majority of communal representatives. The legislative elections elected deputies to the lower chamber of the ninety-fivedeputy parliament, the National Assembly. For both the communal and the parliamentary elections, the opposition made gains, but Taya’s allies secured victory. Thirty percent of candidates were independents.173 Most independents were traditional rural politicians who were “closely associated with the former regime” and “held the highest positions in the organs of its party and allied political formations.” But they “declined to claim openly their association with the PRDS.”174 These Taya-allied independents won 120 of 217 communes and forty-one of ninety-five legislative assembly seats. After the legislative elections, they formed a group called the National Rally of Independents (Rassemblement national des indépendants [RNI]).175 The successor of Taya’s PRDS (the PRDR) won twenty mayoralties and seven deputy seats. Even though the coup had overthrown Taya, his regime’s underlying clientelist structures remained intact. Loyalists from Taya’s regime exerted their influence in the 2007 presidential elections. They confirmed the main lesson of the 2006 elections: although Taya was gone, the politicians who constituted his regime still controlled politics. Whereas the leftists and Islamists endorsed Ahmed Ould Daddah, military leaders—notably Abdel Aziz—backed a largely unknown economist, Sidi Mohamed Ould Cheikh Abdallahi (known as Sidi Ould Cheikh Abdallahi). But Cheikh Abdallahi had the right bona fides: he had been a Taya minister in the 1980s. After the first round, Cheikh Abdallahi won the endorsement of the third-place presidential candidate, who was the “standard-bearer of the former regime coalition.”176 Discreetly, the military helped Cheikh Abdallahi against Daddah by organizing rallies for him among the rural tribes. Cheikh Abdallahi defeated Daddah, becoming Mauritania’s first democratically elected president. Thereafter, traditional politicians with ties to Taya swarmed into appointee posts. Cheikh Abdallahi’s administration, as N’Diaye relays, was “almost entirely manned by the men and women who ran the party-state of the former regime.”177 Twenty-six of the thirty cabinet-level positions

The Origins of Left-Islamist Alliances  ■  83

went to traditional politicians of rural or tribal origins with connections to Taya’s regime.178 Dogged by corruption, Cheikh Abdallahi’s first coalition government collapsed in May 2008. Subsequently, Cheikh Abdallahi sought to assert his independence from his military patrons and Taya loyalists. Despite his history as a former Taya-era minister, it became evident that Cheikh Abdallahi wanted to preserve and consolidate the democratic transition. Seeking to sideline the Taya loyalists who had brought him to power, Cheikh Abdallahi fired General Abdel Aziz from his post as his chief of staff.179 But Cheikh Abdallahi’s military overseers blocked his attempt to break free, launching a bloodless coup in August 2008. “Ironman” Abdel Aziz orchestrated the coup, cutting short Mauritania’s democratic experiment.180 Abdel Aziz promised to remove the corrupt officials who had undermined Cheikh Abdallahi’s administration. Yet in short order, many of Taya’s former apparatchiks integrated into Abdel Aziz’s new regime.181 As the junta consolidated control, it represented a near-full return of Taya’s regime, now led by Abdel Aziz. This coup against democratization changed the political opportunity structure in Mauritania’s national-level politics, threatening its leftists and Islamists. They forged an alliance, calling it the National Front for the Defense of Democracy (Front national pour la défense de la démocratie [FNDD]). The FNDD sought to rally the leftists and Islamists into a solid, united coalition to reject Abdel Aziz’s coup. Conclusion Traditionally, regime, leftist, and Islamist parties have drawn on specific social bases in Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania. In Tunisia, the regime, leftists, and Islamists relied on citizens with urban middle-class backgrounds. In Morocco and Mauritania, regimes depended on traditional politicians relying on clientelist hierarchies in rural areas, whereas the opposition parties mainly relied on supporters from urban areas (where such social structures were largely absent). By the 2000s, the constellation of social forces that constituted some of Morocco’s and Mauritania’s opposition parties had begun to change. Some of Morocco’s and Mauritania’s

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key opposition parties realigned their social bases from an urban middleclass segment of society to a rural, clientelist one. Morocco’s urban leftist opposition party had transformed into one with a rural social base. Mauritania’s urban Islamist party, likewise, had incorporated large rural voting constituencies. In Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania, leftists and Islamists created opposition alliances responding to new, exceptional regime-sponsored threats. Developing alliances in national-level politics to defend themselves and protect common interests, they sought to push back against autocrats’ monopolization of politics. While Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists succeeded in maintaining their alliance first established in 2005, their Moroccan and Mauritanian counterparts could not sustain alliances forged in the late 2000s. The ruralization of parties’ social bases enhanced their vulnerability to co-optation during the politics of these alliances, which facilitated their collapse.

4 Zooming Out National-Level Alliances in Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania

When faced with threats in the mid-2000s, North Africa’s leftist and Islamist parties formed alliances. Yet alliances in national politics did not endure equally: an alliance became more durable in Tunisia, where it exceeded one year in duration, than in either Morocco or Mauritania, where alliances survived only months. Exploiting the rural constituencies gradually absorbed into Morocco’s leftist and Mauritania’s Islamist parties, the regimes of Mohammed VI and Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz used their loyalist parties to sabotage alliances in both countries. Briefly, the loyalist parties accomplished this through a strategy of co-optation practiced against both leaders and politicians of these opposition parties. Although leftists and Islamists created alliances in the mid-2000s to resist threats, such tenuous coalitions were brought down by co-optation executed by rural loyalist parties. Three cases of left-Islamist alliances in national-level politics are examined: a case of alliance formation and endurance in Tunisia (October 2005–14) and two cases of alliance formation and failure in Morocco (July 2009–November 2009) and Mauritania (August 2008–March 2009). To illustrate how the process of co-optation took place against Morocco’s leftists and Mauritania’s Islamists, qualitative and quantitative evidence is presented. The evidence describes how specific opposition politicians, once champions of alliances, were brought to the regime’s side and under its loyalist parties’ influence. At minimum, these politicians pivoted from an oppositional stance toward the regime’s loyalist parties to one 85

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of active cooperation with them. At maximum, they defected from their own opposition parties and were absorbed directly into regimes’ loyalist parties. Examining the specific processes by which co-optation weakened Morocco’s leftists and Mauritania’s Islamists provides a detailed look at the opaque inner workings of these authoritarian regimes. These dynamics of the co-optation process are shown during key periods of alliance building between leftists and Islamists in the late 2000s. Whereas regime co-optation of leftists spoiled their alliance with Islamists in Morocco, similar co-optation of Islamists shattered their alliance with leftists in Mauritania. Morocco’s monarchy of Mohamed VI and Mauritania’s military junta of Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz undermined opposition alliances, thereby buttressing their regimes by a similar crafty strategy of co-optation, not brute force. When Moroccan leftists and Mauritanian Islamists withdrew from alliances to trade for regime benefits, the short-term interests of both party politicians and their constituents aligned. These politicians advanced their personal political ambitions while also securing new resources for the rural constituencies they had come to represent. Yet had the opposition parties maintained stable cross-ideological alliances over the long run, they may have used their coalitions to agitate for more reforms and possible democratization. In effect, opposition parties’ pursuit and realization of short-term benefits produced long-term costs, sacrificing their capacity to mobilize jointly for change. Tunisia: The Enduring Troika Alliance, 2005–2014 Building on their common opposition to the 2003 antiterrorism law, the 18 October Alliance’s opposition parties organized contentious actions against Ben Ali’s regime in the mid-2000s. To draw attention to their cause and criticize the regime’s increasing repression, eight of the alliance’s leaders went on a month-long hunger strike before the 2005 World Summit on Information Society. According to Anne Wolf, the 18 October Alliance used the strike to “demand freedom of expression and association” and call for a “general amnesty of political prisoners.”1

National-Level Alliances  ■  87

The parties of the alliance also rallied around one activist who had suffered the regime’s wrath, Mohamed Abbou. A lawyer and CPR party member, Abbou had criticized Ben Ali’s decision to invite Israeli prime minister Ariel Sharon to the summit in an online article. After kidnapping Abbou off the streets, the police charged with him spreading false news with the intent to incite public unrest.2 Rallying to his defense, CPR members—especially Abderraouf Ayadi—formed a legal defense team, the Committee for the Defense of Mohamed Abbou. Moncef Marzouki also advocated for Abbou’s release. The opposition parties of the 18 October Alliance asserted their urban educated social bases of lawyers and civil society activists to defend Abbou. Extending their joint opposition to the 2003 antiterrorism law and their activism to support Mohamed Abbou, the 18 October Alliance parties took on broader concerns as they enhanced cooperation throughout the 2000s. Beginning in the early 2000s and extending until the late 2000s, the opposition parties held meetings in exile in Europe and underground in Tunisia during which they discussed their country’s future. In their meetings, the parties discussed plans for a potential future without Ben Ali. As Ben Ali grew older and entered his fifth term as Tunisia’s president after 2009, the 18 October Alliance prepared to deal with a possible succession crisis. They were particularly troubled by rumors that Ben Ali’s notoriously corrupt wife, Leila Trabelsi, would succeed him. Indeed, going beyond criticizing the regime’s increasingly repressive nature, one public statement from the mid-2000s from the 18 October Alliance questioned its fundamental underpinnings. Ben Ali’s regime, the statement read, had failed to correct “social differences between Tunisia’s classes and geographic regions . . . unemployment among university graduates . . . and the deterioration in the standard of living.”3 Particularly, Tunisia’s rural interior suffered with increasing citizen discontent in the late 2000s, especially in Gafsa, where miners struck for six months in 2008. Outside of Tunisia, the opposition parties also held a series of dialogues—sometimes in informal meetings during settings like Ramadan dinners—during which they traded ideological viewpoints between 2006 and 2011. These talks dampened the ideological discord that had

88  ■  Why Alliances Fail

divided the parties in the 1990s and inhibited cross-ideological cooperation. Although the parties still disagreed on numerous policies, notably the extent to which Islam should influence law, they converged around the need to fight corruption, enhance civil liberties, and protect the neutrality of religious sites. And although they left considerable ambiguity about what it exactly entailed, the opposition parties by the late 2000s also came to generally agree on the need to respect and protect Tunisia’s ArabIslamic identity. This agreement on identity became a key policy demand of Ennahda to which the leftists conceded during their cooperation in the 18 October Alliance between 2006 and 2010.4 By increasing their interactions in the late 2000s, the opposition parties managed to reinforce their common belief that Ben Ali’s regime posed a greater threat to them than they did each other. The parties realized that they diverged ideologically but converged around common opposition to authoritarianism. Moncef Marzouki, for example, implored Tunisian oppositionists to “forget about the divide between secularists and Islamists and instead focus on the divide between democrats and non-democrats.”5 Likewise, Makdad Arbawi, an Ennahda leader and former political prisoner under Ben Ali, explained the importance of the 18 October Alliance for the Islamists. “We had a good, historic relationship with the CPR, Ettakatol, and other leftists. We were all thrown together in one melting pot in opposition to authoritarianism. We all suffered. We were travel companions in a struggle.”6 Also a member of the 18 October Alliance, Habib Ziedi of a smaller opposition party elaborated: “The 18 of October Alliance was a national agreement. It was a meeting point between everyone—Islamists, leftists, liberals, centrists, and nationalists—around three points: opposing authoritarianism, ending corruption, and restoring civil liberties.”7 The 18 October Alliance’s capacity to agree on these principles, as Anne Wolf notes, “formed the basis of later deliberations and compromise” between the leftists and the Islamists during the Troika coalition government. Although a lull in contentious actions somewhat emerged between 2006 and 2010 among the opposition parties of the 18 October Alliance, they continued their meetings, dialogues, and planning without dissolving their coalition. These interactions made their alliance

National-Level Alliances  ■  89

a stable framework for cooperation, as the leftists and Islamists planned for a post–Ben Ali Tunisia. While a threat motivated an alliance between the Tunisian opposition parties, Ben Ali’s regime effectively prevented it from becoming a serious political challenge. Built from a strong urban middle-class social base, Ben Ali’s regime could easily withstand pressure from opposition parties united in an alliance. It did this mainly by way of repression. The fact that the leaders of two of the strongest opposition parties within the 18 October Alliance—the Islamist Ennahda movement and Marzouki’s CPR—were forced into exile prevented them from contesting Ben Ali’s regime more forcefully. Even while Ben Jaafar’s party remained in Tunisia and sought to campaign and compete in elections as a fully legal party, the regime’s repression and harassment obstructed its access to institutions, such as parliament and communes. In short, repression (rather than co-optation) became the regime’s key tactic to keep this alliance forged between leftists and Islamists in 2005 at bay. While the regime’s repression kept the left-Islamist coalition restrained and limited its contestation, it never managed to shatter the partnership, which remained intact and became a durable, long-term alliance. Other tactics, such as co-optation, were practiced on smaller opposition parties—like Ahmed Mestiri’s MDS—but were not effectively deployed against Ennahda, CPR, or Ettakatol. Indeed, although Ben Ali’s regime weakened the MDS through co-optation, as Emma Murphy documents, such tactics did not undermine Tunisia’s leftists or Islamists.8 The fact that Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists commanded largely urban social bases outside of clientelist hierarchies, and Tunisia’s regime never relied on such rural social structures to bolster its authoritarian system in the first place, lessened the attractiveness of co-optation as a tactic to undercut these opposition parties (and shatter their alliances). Indeed, as Cavatorta and Merone write, leftists’ and Islamists’ “middle-class compromise” in Tunisia between these “conservative and liberal representatives” helped to keep its alliance stable and unaffected by co-optation.9 The opposite dynamics occurred in national-level alliance politics in Morocco and Mauritania, however.

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Tunisia’s revolution during the Arab uprisings acted as a boon for the leftists and Islamists, who first allied to oppose Ben Ali’s rule in 2005. In late December 2010, protests started in Tunisia’s rural periphery in Sidi Bouzid and intensified as other marginalized rural communities in Tunisia’s interior erupted in popular unrest. These rural areas, as Michael Willis writes, had “a long history of resistance to governments in Tunis” and had “been the locus of undoubtedly the most serious, organized, and sustained” popular opposition to Ben Ali in the preceding two years. Backed by local lawyers and labor unionists, the protests moved from the rural periphery to eventually reach the regime’s urban center of Tunis in early January 2011.10 After the protests climaxed with Ben Ali’s departure on January 14, the opposition parties’ exiled leaders returned from overseas. CPR’s Moncef Marzouki landed in Tunis on January 18, while Islamist leader Rachid Ghannouchi arrived on January 30. An entourage of supporters accompanied these men as they deplaned at Bourguiba International Airport. After years of fearing Ben Ali’s notorious secret police, many of their domestic sympathizers emerged from hiding. Although Ben Ali had gone into exile, the threat posed by his regime did not dissipate. As in Mauritania after the ouster of Taya, many of Ben Ali’s closest allies remained active in the transitional government formed after Tunisia’s revolution. This continuing threat sustained the alliance between the leftists and Islamists. While the opposition allies had played a minor role in the first round of protests—known as Kasbah I—that had forced Ben Ali out of power, the leftists and Islamists asserted themselves in the second round of protests of February 2011. These protests—Kasbah II—focused on removing Ben Ali loyalists who remained in government positions. Ordinary citizen protesters mobilized in the streets with the allied leftist and Islamist opposition parties to compel Ben Ali loyalists, such as interim prime minister Mohamed Ghannouchi, to resign from the transitional government. If these apparatchiks were not removed, the leftists and Islamists feared they would cut short Tunisia’s revolution. To push Ben Ali’s supporters out of power, the Tunisian leftists and Islamists mobilized their alliance by taking to the streets. Indeed, though the opposition parties’ alliance did not oust Ben Ali, it kept reactionary forces at bay in the revolution’s immediate aftermath.

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Through this alliance of ideologically unlikely bedfellows, Tunisia steered through the instability of the postrevolutionary period. In the fall of 2011, an independent commission of legal scholars designated October 23 for Tunisia’s first postrevolution elections. The elections would create a 217-seat assembly that would draft a new constitution and appoint a oneyear transitional president and government. With 117 other political parties created after Ben Ali’s departure, the CPR, the Ettakatol, and Ennahda Parties looked to elections to assert their political influence. Across Tunisia’s twenty-seven electoral districts, the opposition parties recruited candidates to compete in the elections and also supporters to watch the polls. In these tasks, the Islamists were far more successful than the leftists. In an electoral district in the Tunis metropolitan area with 238 polling stations, Ennahda successfully recruited 379 poll watchers, while Ettakatol had 95 and the CPR 45, respectively. While Ennahda flexed its grassroots muscle in the electoral campaign, especially in major cities, the two leftist parties garnered less popular support and revealed themselves mostly as middle-class organizations of lawyers and intellectuals. As October 23 approached, the Tunisian leftists and Islamists prepared for several possible scenarios. Looming over each, however, was the question of Ben Ali loyalists’ electoral strength. While the independent election commission had promulgated Article 15 that banned former RCD officials from running for office, the state had difficulty enforcing this rule. Former RCD officials registered as both independent candidates and members of smaller parties, such as the Initiative Party, created by Ben Ali’s former foreign minister Kamal Morjane. One independent election official estimated that more than 50 percent of Morjane’s party was composed of former RCD officials,11 whereas Initiative Party sources said 25 percent.12 The leftist parties also readied for another potential scenario—a sweeping Islamist victory. The leftists feared that Ennahda might win an absolute majority alone, avoiding the need to share power in the assembly. Fears emerged that more conservative social policies might be introduced unilaterally, those that Ennahda favored and that the leftists opposed. Critically, a sweeping Islamist victory would empower Ennahda to ignore leftists’ recommendations while drafting the new constitution. To soothe

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leftist concerns as the 2011 election approached, one Islamist candidate claimed, “Ennahda doesn’t want to be the next RCD. Even if Ennahda wins a clear majority over 50 percent, we will cohabitate in a coalition government to build consensus.”13 On Election Day, the opposition parties most distant from Ben Ali’s regime did best. Ennahda secured 89 seats (41 percent) in the 217-seat assembly that would write the new Tunisian constitution. The two main leftist parties, Moncef Marzouki’s and Mustapha Ben Jaafar’s, received 29 and 20 seats, respectively. They came in second and fourth places. The three parties planned how they would share power in the transitional government. Through their alliance, the leftists and Islamists would have a majority of more than 60 percent in the constitution-writing assembly. In dealing with their Islamist allies, Marzouki and Ben Jaafar positioned themselves as protectors of secularism. “Ennahda isn’t Satan” and “we shouldn’t consider it the Tunisian Taliban,” as Marzouki asserted, but “the red lines are civil liberties and women’s rights, which cannot be subject to bargaining.”14 Ben Jaafar, likewise, asserted that “Ettakatol wouldn’t sell its soul” in allying with the Islamists, and they “shouldn’t forget the 60 percent of voters that didn’t vote for them and the half of potential voters that weren’t at the polls.”15 After negotiations with the Islamists, Marzouki was nominated as president, whereas Ben Jaafar became speaker of the constituent assembly. Building off their earlier coordination in the 18 October Alliance forged in 2005, this coalition evolved into the ruling majority government between leftists and Islamists—the Troika Alliance. The main factor that motivated the three opposition parties to maintain their alliance after the 2011 regime collapse was the continuing threat of Ben Ali loyalists on the political scene. Ben Ali’s ruling party disappeared, but its apparatchiks did not. They joined approximately thirty to forty smaller parties that competed in the 2011 elections. Approximately sixteen parties of this ilk were identified as having presidents from Ben Ali’s former ruling party, the RCD.16 In total, 86 deputies who had previously held positions in the RCD took over seats in the constitution-writing assembly.17 Taken as a whole, this figure surpasses that of either of the leftist parties individually. In particular, the Petition Party led by a former

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Ben Ali ally had unexpected electoral success, receiving 26 seats. Although several legal reforms, such as Article 15, had sought to block RCD leaders from returning to party politics, many in fact successfully did so. As the Arab uprisings began, protests allowed some Tunisian leftists and Islamists to return from exile and collaborate with their counterparts who remained in Tunisia to mobilize their alliance against the remnants of Ben Ali’s regime. Following the 2011 election, the left-Islamist alliance first formed in 2005 continued to endure because leftovers of the former regime had not exited the political system. They continued to pose a threat to Tunisia’s nascent democracy. The Troika Alliance between leftists and Islamists moved to protect this democratic transition and to shift power away from Ben Ali’s former allies. “The Troika didn’t have many common ideological denominators, but we had one objective: that’s the national interest,” Mohamed Bennour, chief of staff to Mustapha Ben Jaafar of the Ettakatol Party, said. “The country needed all sections of society to escape this delicate situation.”18 After the 2011 elections, the Troika Alliance endured. It was a clear example of a long-term, durable alliance between leftists and Islamists. Without Tunisia’s regime party using repression to disrupt coordination between opposition parties, the left-Islamist alliance persisted. Yet as Tunisia’s 2014 presidential and parliamentary elections approached, new events arose that altered the opposition parties’ calculations. These events encouraged the parties to choose to terminate the Troika Alliance as Tunisia’s transition to democracy consolidated and normalized. Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists maintained their enduring alliance until the threat from the remnants of Ben Ali’s regime had dissipated and been replaced with a democratic system. While Tunisia’s young democracy still faces many challenges, its opposition parties began to reconfigure and redefine their relationship with each other, as free and fair electoral competition became the expected political norm. In part, this new electoral competition between the parties emerged within the context of broader stability after the success of the Tunisian National Dialogue Quartet—which ultimately won the Noble Peace Prize—that reinforced the successful democratic transition.

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Morocco: The Failed National Front for Democracy, July 2009–November 2009 Like the 18 October Alliance in Tunisia, a coalition between leftists and Islamists in Morocco developed following the emergence of a threat, the founding of Fouad Ali al-Himma’s party—the PAM—in 2008. This alliance, however, did not endure over time because regime forces co-opted Morocco’s leftists, both the top leaders and the politicians that constitute the opposition party. Driss Lachgar and Mostafa Ramid—two parliamentary members from Morocco’s leftist and Islamist parties—emerged as the proponents of this 2009 left-Islamist alliance. Leftist Lachgar met with Islamists Ramid, Lahcen Daoudi, and Abdelilah Benkirane in parliament chambers to plan their joint opposition. As a secretariat general member of the leftist party, Lachgar announced the alliance to other leftist leaders in the opening session of the party’s eighth national congress.19 In early July 2009, Morocco’s leftists and Islamists announced the formation of their alliance at a joint press conference hosted by the opposition news magazine, Le Journal Hebdomadaire (which was banned less than a year later). The PJD’s Mostafa Ramid spoke with the USFP’s Lachgar beside him. Referencing Himma’s PAM, Ramid exclaimed, “Our country can do without Mubarak’s Egyptian model or Ben Ali’s Tunisian model. . . . The result of all this is catastrophic: the emergence of a party considered the king’s party. And, the fact that we say, whether directly or indirectly, that it is the king’s party and that Fouad Ali al-Himma is carrying out the king’s project means the death of politics in Morocco.” Ramid and Lachgar announced that the two parties would form the National Front for Democracy to stop the PAM. “Within this front,” Lachgar declared, “the Islamists, the left, and all democrats must play a fundamental role.”20 In addition to resisting the PAM, the two parties pledged to coordinate in the 2009 communal elections. And indeed, the leftists and Islamists cooperated electorally in numerous city races for mayor and communal representative positions. Echoing Lachgar and Ramid, other leftist and Islamist leaders stressed the importance of an alliance against the PAM. Leftist secretariat general member Hassan Tarek described it as an “alliance of values” based on the

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“guarding of democracy” and the “blocking of a new regime project that threatens it.” Mustapha el-Khalfi, editor of the Islamist newspaper, added that “the PAM is a doomed project” and that “its objective of targeting the PJD would not be realized.”21 Despite their divergent ideologies, different policy programs, and acrimonious history, the leftists and Islamists established an alliance. “The National Front for the Defense of Democracy,” as Rachid Lazrak (one of Driss Lachgar’s advisers) explained, “expressed the collective feeling of fear that Morocco’s democratization was threatened.” It was an “alliance that came to oppose attempts at hegemony.”22 Following the press announcement, Lachgar and other leftists continued to make public statements about their alliance with the Islamists to stop the rise of the king’s new regime party. As Rachid Lazrak said, “Lachgar wanted to send a message to the regime that the leftists would ally with the Islamists to resist their new common rival, the PAM. Allying with the Islamists had always been a red line for leftists, but Lachgar crossed it to send a signal. Lachgar spoke with authority from his position as its chief negotiator and proponent of the alliance.”23 When Lachgar established the National Front for Democracy with the Islamists, he also benefited in leftist internal politics. He aimed to improve his own position in a leadership struggle vis-à-vis his former mentor, Minister of State Mohamed el-Yazghi. “There was a splitting of ways between Lachgar and Yazghi after 2007,” as Yazghi’s chief of staff explained. “It was over Lachgar’s statements about the alliance with the Islamists, but more importantly, there was leadership problem among the leftists. Yazghi was the USFP leader, and Lachgar wanted to be the USFP leader.”24 By allying with the Islamists who had had electoral success after 2002, Lachgar sought to improve the leftists’ electoral support, which had waned since 1998. An alliance with the Islamists could enhance the leftists’ popularity, rescue it from electoral decline, and (eventually) make Lachgar the leftist party’s president. As time passed, the National Front for Democracy did not coordinate new activities beyond the 2009 communal elections. Meanwhile, the PAM continued to grow stronger and pose a more salient threat. After coming in first in the 2009 elections, the king’s party had absorbed enough parliamentary deputies—about forty—into its ranks through co-optation that

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it surpassed the Islamists as the parliament’s second largest party.25 To redouble its power, the PAM merged parliamentary blocs with the secondlargest loyalist party, the RNI led by Rachid Talbi al-Alami (who emerges as an important figure in this book’s next chapter as the anti-Islamist mayor of Tétouan). Co-optation of Morocco’s Leftist Leaders The PAM, on the regime’s behalf, moved to destroy the National Front for Democracy between the leftists and Islamists. First, the loyalist party co-opted the alliance’s chief leftist proponent, Driss Lachgar. Then, it expanded this campaign to co-opt politicians affiliated with the leftist party, especially those representing rural, village areas with high illiteracy rates. Many of them were traditional politicians who controlled clientelist hierarchies. Tapping into the rural social base that the leftist party had acquired beginning after 2003, the loyalist party co-opted the leftist party—from its grassroots politicians to its top leaders. Because Morocco’s left-Islamist alliance posed an obstacle to the loyalist party’s project to bolster the regime’s power, it strove to shatter it. The loyalist party’s strategy to co-opt Morocco’s leftist party began with interactions between a chief leftist leader, Driss Lachgar, and the PAM’s vice president, Ilyas el-Omari. In November 2009, Omari secretly met Lachgar in a Rabat-area nightclub, the Swing. There, Omari offered Lachgar a deal: if he gave up the alliance with the Islamists, the PAM would ensure he would become minister of parliamentary relations.26 “How did Lachgar become Minister?” one high-ranking leftist leader remarked. “Ilyas el-Omari is a good friend of Fouad Ali al-Himma; Fouad Ali al-Himma is a good friend of the king.”27 In a return for a ministerial post, and the resources accompanying it, Lachgar agreed to drop his left-Islamist alliance. Without Lachgar’s leadership, the alliance between the opposition parties collapsed. To break the left-Islamist opposition coordination in Morocco, the regime worked through its loyalist party to co-opt the alliance’s leftist proponent. As Eva Wegner and Miquel Pellicer note, Lachgar relinquished the alliance with the Islamists and cooperated with the loyalist party “to gain the spoils of office” as minister.28

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After becoming minister of parliamentary relations, Lachgar shifted his strategy a second time. Speaking in meetings of the leftists’ auxiliary youth and women’s organizations in January 2011, Lachgar advocated the leftist party ally with the PAM for the upcoming parliamentary elections. Lachgar had, according to one report, developed a “secret agreement” with the regime party. Because the PAM had so effectively used co-optation to absorb the leftist party’s parliamentary deputies into its ranks, an alliance with it would “preserve the unity and continuity of the USFP in parliament,” Lachgar argued. If the USFP were the PAM’s ally, it would stop seeking to co-opt its politicians in parliament.29 He elaborated on this point: “I was very sad to see several deputies withdraw from their parties to join another party. . . . [T]his is a crime to ban.”30 Known as transhumance in Moroccan politics, this form of regime co-optation occurs when parliamentary deputies or communal politicians defect from their own parties and are absorbed into loyalist parties, usually in pursuit of clientelist benefits from getting closer relations with parties allied with the regime. In the mid-2000s, Himma (as the PAM president) blocked the enforcement of Article 5 of the political-parties law that would have outlawed this form of co-optation of politicians often deployed by loyalist parties.31 For the upcoming parliamentary elections, Lachgar emphasized that the leftists would pursue an alliance with any party of “democratic grade.” He listed the parties meeting this standard, including the PAM, the RNI, two other loyalist parties, and the Istiqlal. The Islamists were not potential allies, he said. They were antidemocratic “dark forces.”32 Less than a year after he had formed the National Front for Democracy with the Islamists, Lachgar had reversed his position 180 degrees under regime co-optation. Two factions opened in the leftist party over Lachgar’s proposal to ally with the PAM: one supported the alliance, whereas another opposed it. Lachgar’s opponents forced open the party’s mothballed former headquarters and held a public meeting to denounce his proposed alliance with the PAM. Former leftist minister of culture, Mohammed Achaari, and the son of the party’s founder, Ali Bouabid, froze their secretariat general memberships in protest.33 Rather than toying with the leftist party’s alliances, they stressed that Lachgar refocus on “building institutions” and “fully implementing the constitution” to “turn the last page” on authoritarianism.34

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When Lachgar withdrew the USFP from the left-Islamist alliance, he benefited. He gained a minister’s salary (typically around $7,000 per month) and other state-provided goodies accompanying the post, like a state housing stipend, state-owned Mercedes Benz cars, and personal domestic staff (like chauffeurs and housemaids).35 Additionally, ministers also sometimes profit from their posts by gaining the ability to buy (and resell) public lands or acquire governmental work contracts. Such practices proliferated during Hassan II’s reign when ethics laws were weaker or less enforced. In light of these possible benefits, for politicians like Lachgar getting a ministership is the “culmination of a political career.”36 Lachgar also took control of a ministry that had about a hundred offices in which he could employ his leftist supporters, who sought these clientelist benefits. By trading his alliance with the Islamists for one with the PAM, he ingratiated himself with the regime and used it to advance his objective of becoming leftist party president. He likely thought the regime might someday intervene to help him overtake other leftist leaders in seeking to become party president. The leftists’ sitting president criticized Lachgar’s maneuver: “Defenders of the PAM are using it as a weapon of war” in the party’s internal leadership struggle.37 Another leftist secretariat general member and former minister referenced Lachgar when he said, “We, the USFP, should reject with force all strategies that rely on creating anxiety or crisis to manage the party’s leadership differences.”38 The regime and the PAM benefited from Lachgar’s co-optation. It caused the collapse of the National Front for Democracy and opened the door to cooperation between the PAM and the leftists. As Islamist party president and Moroccan prime minister Abdelilah Benkirane explained, “The PAM saw the danger of this left-Islamist hard political power bloc, so it sought to cooperate with the leftists to isolate the Islamists. The PAM moved to destroy the bloc. Consequently, it established relations with the leftists.”39 Likewise, Islamist minister Mustapha el-Khalfi echoed this sentiment: “After the results of the 2009 elections and the success of the leftIslamist alliance in many large cities,” he noted, “the PAM declared one specific idea: we should destroy this alliance between the PJD and USFP. The tool that was used was that Driss Lachgar was brought into the government as a minister.”40

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Reflecting on the Islamists’ collapsed alliance with the leftists, Benkirane hoped that the National Front for Democracy could be revitalized despite Lachgar’s co-optation. “If we come in first place in the next parliamentary elections in November 2011, the USFP will undoubtedly renew thinking about allying with us.” Such an alliance would be better for Morocco’s possible democratization. “When I first became PJD party president, I was asked by the media: ‘With whom would the Islamists form alliances?’ I responded: ‘Parties that were born from the people, not those birthed by the regime.’ It should be that we work with parties that come from the people; we continue in that direction.”41 Broader Trends in Co-optation of Morocco’s Leftist Politicians The story of Driss Lachgar’s co-optation is not idiosyncratic or limited to one leftist leader only. Rather, it is emblematic of broader national trends within Morocco’s leftist party. That is, the regime’s loyalist parties practiced co-optation not only against the leftist party’s leaders but also against its lowest-level politicians, communal mayors, and representatives. This co-optation of leftist politicians occurred not only in the party’s top leadership in Morocco’s capital city but also against elected leftist politicians in more than two hundred different cities, towns, and villages across the country. Across all of Morocco in a nationwide trend, the leftist party felt the effects of co-optation throughout its organization. Given these politicians’ close proximity to the leftist party’s social base, their co-optation shows that it had come under regime control from the bottom to the top of its organizational rungs across Morocco. When the opportunity came to form the National Front for Democracy in 2009, the leftist party was a weak alliance partner because its politicians had started succumbing to co-optation years before at the hands of loyalist parties, especially Fouad Ali al-Himma’s PAM. Combined with the co-optation of the alliance’s architect, Driss Lachgar, this gradual process of co-optation of leftist politicians prevented the USFP from making the National Front for Democracy an enduring alliance with Islamists. Co-optation of leftist politicians deteriorated the party’s internal strength as an oppositional force.

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Quantitative data in the next section show that Lachgar’s story was reflective of a broader national regime attempt to co-opt the leftist party. Although the data for this quantitative analysis come from communal (that is, local) elections, they help to demonstrate broader trends in cooptation of leftists that took place in a multitude of different cities, towns, and villages across Morocco between 2003 and 2009. From examining these trends, we can see how the leftists have fallen gradually under the influence of co-optation by loyalist parties, notably the PAM. Many of the leftist politicians who fell to co-optation of loyalist parties were traditional rural politicians who had joined the leftists after 2002. The data show how the gradual realignment of the leftist opposition party’s social base to rural and illiterate communes made its elected politicians more co-optable over time. To date, this data set provides the first statistical look at how cooptation of opposition politicians works in the Moroccan political context, specifically. It could also carry implications for how regimes co-opt politicians in other MENA countries. Modeling Loyalist Parties’ Co-optation of Leftist Politicians Gradually, Morocco’s leftists have transitioned from relying on an urban middle-class social base from the 1960s until the 1990s to depending on a predominantly rural social base represented by traditional politicians by the early 2000s. The rise to prominence of such leftist leaders as Said Shabatou, who rely on their clientelist networks to marshal votes, evidences this change in the social constituencies that support the party. Beginning with the founding of the PAM, years prior to the leftists’ alliance with the Islamists, Morocco’s loyalist parties began to target the leftist party, coopting droves of its politicians into their ranks. This gradual process of co-optation paralleled the co-optation of Driss Lachgar, but it occurred deeper in the party apparatus. Before proceeding, some background information on North Africa’s communes is necessary. Politicians govern communes by way of multiparty coalitions, which control access to resources and appoint communal leaders—a mayor, vice mayors, and a council of communal representatives.

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To elect a mayor, parties develop slates of candidates for communal representative seats, whose size is set by the commune’s population size. In a village-size commune of 23 seats, for example, parties develop slates with 23 total candidates. The parties rank the candidates on the slate from 1 to 23. The parties nominate the strongest candidates on their slates’ positions 1, 2, and 3, and, typically, they win communal representative seats. After the election, parties negotiate to form multiparty communal alliances. If a party won 6 seats in our hypothetical 23-seat village commune, it would need to build an alliance with another party with at least 6 seats to establish a ruling majority government (that is, controlling 12 of 23 total communal representative seats). Subsequently, this coalition constituting the ruling majority government appoints the mayor. To identify the variables correlated with a leftist politician’s increased chances of successful co-optation by a loyalist party, a regression model was used with a binary dependent outcome (co-optation or non-co-optation). If a leftist politician got co-opted into a loyalist party, he was coded 1. If he stayed loyal to his leftist party, he was coded as 0 (this was labeled the variable regime co-optation within the data set). To ensure instances of cooptation and non-co-optation existed within the data, cases were included in which leftist politicians remained in their party (the USFP) and did not get co-opted into one of the loyalist parties. When coding the raw Arabiclanguage electoral results, this analysis identified individual cases of leftist politicians (elected in 2003 as a candidate with USFP affiliation) who were absorbed into one of the regime’s loyalist parties for the 2009 elections (taking on a PAM or another loyalist party affiliation as a candidate). In total, between the 2003 and 2009 communal elections, the data set covers 440 leftist politicians who held elected office in 219 different communes in Morocco. Of these 440 politicians, approximately 38 percent (166 politicians) defected from the USFP and were co-opted into loyalist parties, especially the PAM. The co-optation of these politicians occurred in late 2008 and early 2009 as the loyalist parties sought to absorb new politicians for their candidate slates in advance of the June 2009 communal elections. Although data inaccessibility prevented acquisition of a full sample including all 2009 electoral results, the data are generally nationally representative, being drawn from all Moroccan regions.42

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Use of Wegner’s typology of Moroccan parties identified loyalist parties and separated them from the leftist party.43 The PAM and several smaller loyalist parties were added to update Wegner’s typology for those competing in the 2009 election. In examining data of leftists who both succumbed to co-optation and the ones who resisted it, we can see how and why leftist politicians elected to communes—those closest to the party’s grassroots social base—have gradually fallen under the influence of the regime’s loyalist parties. Several different variables are theorized to increase a leftist politician’s chances of succumbing to co-optation. Most of these independent variables vary on the district level, pertaining to a politician’s commune or his constituents that reside within its boundaries. In areas with high illiteracy, where voters may not understand ideological differences between parties, they may undervalue a politician’s specific party affiliation. This fact, intuitively, may also hold true for areas with greater poverty and higher unemployment, where constituents politically reward politicians more for their capacity to attract resources than for their fealty to a specific party. Further, in areas that have received state clientelist benefits, politicians may defect from the leftist party to a loyalist one to maintain access to these resources. To incorporate these phenomena into the model, independent variables were created measuring what percentage of a commune’s residents were either illiterate or impoverished, based on national censuses. A variable, moreover, records the communes that have benefited from large amounts of regime-financed antipoverty assistance. Specifically, communes located within regions that received more than $100 million of aid were coded 1, whereas those within regions that got less were coded 0. Most of these moneys originated from the Mohamed VI National Human Development Initiative (Initiative nationale pour le développement humain [INDH]), which has—as shown by Sylvia Bergh and Janine Clark—become interwoven in clientelist exchanges.44 Traditional politicians may use these funds to reward citizens (who are their clients) to enhance the development of their communes. Several other district-level independent variables may matter in predicting whether a loyalist party co-opts a leftist, specifically his commune’s geographic location. That is, whether a politician is elected in a rural or urban commune may matter. Because rural village areas in both Morocco

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and Mauritania have been allied with authoritarian regimes, politicians in these areas may be more likely to get co-opted into loyalist parties and forsake the leftist party. For the model, two separate variables were devised to measure a commune’s rural status: The first is called village, which records if a commune has between nine and twenty-three communal representatives seats, which are afforded to smaller hamlet-size communes. The second variable is called rural and relies on a classification typology developed by Morocco’s Interior Ministry, which defines rural and urban communes within administrative law. Both of these variables serve to measure and track a commune’s rural status. Additionally, the ethnic composition of a commune’s residents may make a difference. Since the Amazigh have historically opposed the regime, politicians who represent them as constituents may be less likely to get co-opted by loyalist parties than those politicians who represent predominantly Arab constituents. Finally, to test if politicians within one specific subnational region of Morocco were more likely to defect than those from other regions, variables were created to control for geographic clustering in particular regions. Following standard procedure, one of the regions was omitted—Rabat—to serve as the baseline case. Tests were also conducted for multicollinearity, though none was detected.45 To incorporate strategic electoral considerations that may increase a leftist politician’s chances of getting co-opted by a loyalist party, another independent variable—regime power—was devised. Regime power measures the percentage of seats controlled by loyalist parties within a given commune after the 2003 elections. If a leftist politician had been elected in an area with a large amount of regime support, a commune with a high number of politicians affiliated with loyalist parties, then he may feel pressure to defect—a bandwagon effect—to side with the loyalist parties. By joining the loyalist party of the majority within the commune, the politician could be able to reward his constituents faster, with fewer obstacles from powerful opponents. In addition to these district-level variables, one specific individual-level variable is also hypothesized to matter whether a politician gets co-opted— the politician’s gender. In the 2000s, several loyalist parties—notably the PAM—undertook efforts to recruit female candidates into their parties, notably those women who had experience working with civil society and

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women’s groups. A prominent example is the case of Khadija al-Manfalouti,46 a PAM politician who had been a civil society activist in the domain of urban renewal before her entrance into Casablanca’s communal politics.47 Thus, one could hypothesize that leftist female candidates are more targeted for co-optation by loyalist parties than their male counterparts. Results Examining the 440 leftist politicians through this statistical analysis, clear trends emerge in the variables correlated with a politician’s successful cooptation. Taken collectively, the district-level variables that robustly correlate with the successful co-optation of leftist politicians indicate that loyalist parties target representatives of illiterate constituencies in rural areas more than those individuals who represent communes of other characteristics. Exploiting the marginalized constituents that these leftist politicians depend on during elections, loyalist parties have co-opted these politicians to weaken the leftist party and bolster their own ranks. In village communes, a leftist politician’s odds of being co-opted jumped by 373 compared with an official who represented a nonvillage commune. Likewise, when the residents of the commune suffered more from higher illiteracy and increasing unemployment, then this raised a politician’s chances of co-optation. Indeed, for every one unit increase in either the illiteracy or the increasing unemployment rate of the commune’s residents, a politician’s odds of co-optation grew by 4.3 and 53, respectively. To alleviate the socioeconomic issues of illiteracy and unemployment, Morocco’s regime has launched a series of antipoverty programs, most notably the INDH. Started in 2005, this initiative is a $1.132 billion antipoverty development program that works throughout Morocco. Correlations here indicate that leftist politicians holding office within regions that have received such funds are more vulnerable to co-optation by loyalist parties. Within regions that have benefited by $100 million or more of the regime’s antipoverty aid, leftist politicians have 168 higher odds of defecting to loyalist parties compared with leftists who live in regions that have received less than this amount of aid. By providing resources to help alleviate the conditions of communes with marginalized residents, the regime effectively buys

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the political loyalty of the leftists, encouraging their defection to loyalist parties. The regime co-opts leftist politicians by incentivizing their defection to loyalist parties through the delivery of state aid to alleviate the material conditions of their rural constituents, who suffer high rates of illiteracy and unemployment. In sum, leftist politicians who represent rural villages that have received antipoverty aid to remedy these socioeconomic crises become the most likely to get co-opted. As the leftists have realigned to a social base reliant upon traditional politicians predominantly representing rural areas, their party has become vulnerable to the forces of illiteracy and clientelist hierarchies that have made it an ossified, weak opposition movement incapable of forming enduring alliances with the Islamists. Besides these social structural variables, electoral factors may play a role in encouraging co-optation. A bandwagon effect seems to motivate co-optation of leftists. If the regime had preexisting support within a specific commune, and its loyalist parties held a high number of seats after the 2003 elections, then this also increased a leftist politician’s likelihood of co-­optation for the 2009 elections. For each 1-unit increase in regime power locally, or the percentage of seats controlled by loyalist parties, a leftist politician’s odds of co-optation grew by 2.9 compared with leftists based in communes where regime power did not increase. Added with the variables described above, this bandwagon effect suggests that both social structural variables—village isolation, rural politics, and illiteracy—combine with electoral ambitions to facilitate the success of co-optation. This situation is like that of Driss Lachgar, who was co-opted not only to access clientelist benefits but also to improve his political position within the leftist party’s internal leadership struggle. When leftists feel politically isolated by belonging to an opposition party in a commune that is a bastion of support for the regime, they defect to loyalist parties. By cooperating with loyalist parties who hold a majority communal representative seats, these leftist politicians think that they can better deliver resources to their constituents. The four independent variables discussed above lend credence to social structural explanations for leftists’ co-optation. Yet from these correlations alone, it is difficult to determine how these variables form a sequenced chain of events that leads to a leftist politician’s co-optation (see table 7).

Table 7 Logit of co-optation of leftist politicians by Morocco’s loyalist parties Dependent variable = co-option of leftist elite

Model

Illiteracy (% of residents)

.042*** (.015)

Village commune

1.550*** (.473)

Regime power (% of seats controlled by loyalists after 2003 elections)

.028*** (.005)

Antipoverty aid (located in a region with $100 million or more)

.987*** (.355)

168

Increasing unemployment (% increase in unemployed residents)

.424*** (.135)

53

Rural commune

-.249 (.443)

Total poverty (% of residents)

.006 (.028)

Amazigh ethnicity (% of residents)

.003 (.007)

Female politician

.904 (.662)

Total unemployment (% of unemployed residents)

-.316 (.523)

Subnational regions Grand Casablanca

-.031 (2.16)

Souss-Massa-Drâa

-6.60 (5.01)

Gharb-Chrarda-Béni Hssen

-6.39 (3.80)

Odds 4.3

373

2.9

Table 7 (Cont.) Logit of co-optation of leftist politicians by Morocco’s loyalist parties Dependent variable = co-option of leftist elite

Model

Chaouia-Ouardigha

-5.52 (5.07)

Marrakech-Tensift-El Haouz

-6.301 (5.71)

Doukkala-Abda

-5.49 (5.29)

Tadla-Azilal

-6.19 (5.81)

Meknés-Tafilalet

-2.35 (2.66)

Oriental

-2.28 (1.70)

Tangier-Tetouan

-4.95 (4.64)

Taza-Al Hoceima-Taounate

-7.83 (7.67)

Fés-Boulemane

-5.95 (5.107)

Oued Ed-Dahab-Lagouira

-2.75 (2.47)

Guelmim-Es Semara

-1.197 (2.03)

Constant

2.780 (9.41)

N = Log likelihood Pseudo R2

Odds

440 -231.16 .20

Note: ***p < .001; cell entries are regression coefficients; standard errors in parentheses. Source: Author’s leftist co-option data set.

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Although statistical correlations are not specific enough to fully elucidate the sequence of steps by which loyalist parties co-opt leftist politicians, or the causal process whereby some leftists become more “co-optable” than others, they identify general associative relationships between these variables, broadly applicable in Moroccan party politics. Next, we toggle down to examine several illustrative examples of co-optation from real, on-the-ground politics in rural villages. Taken from different Moroccan regions, several examples of co-optation trace how, specifically, leftist politicians fall to this strategy of regime control and how, more generally, it has undermined what once was Morocco’s strongest, most vocal opposition party. Examples of co-optation of leftists help to illustrate how this process works substantively and specify the sequenced process whereby loyalist parties co-opt leftist politicians. One leftist whom a loyalist party co-opted after 2007 was Mohamed Boughlem, hailing from the rural commune of Ighzrane in Sefrou Province. This rural commune—which lies about twenty-five miles beyond the outskirts of the city of Ahermoumou—is known for its role in what John Waterbury called the 1971 “missed coup” against King Hassan II. Training out of local barracks, a group of army officers orchestrated the putsch during the king’s annual birthday celebration in a coastal palace.48 Hiding in the palace’s washroom, the king narrowly escaped, whereupon he sought revenge on the region’s citizens, presuming they had secretly supported the failed coup. Thus, the regime, as Boughlem explained, “did absolutely nothing for the region developmentally for many years.”49 The king also renamed the city of Ahermoumou Ribate el-Kheir, roughly translated as the “Strong Bind,” likely to connote the region’s strong bind of loyalty to the regime. Mohamed Boughlem first joined the leftists, becoming a member of their student organization, while training to become a math teacher. In 2003 Morocco’s leftists nominated Boughlem as their candidate for mayor of the rural commune of Ighzrane, a village district with thirteen communal representative seats. He possessed several important criteria. Foremost, he was one of two possible candidates who possessed a primary school diploma (a prerequisite to become communal mayor in electoral law). Second, socially Boughlem had an advantage, as his father was a leader of one

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of the local tribes, while his mother hailed from another key tribe. These two tribes dominated politics in Ighzrane and were opposed by three other tribes. That the leftists sought to tap into this rural clientelist hierarchy is clear from their recruitment of Boughlem, who faced no competitors for mayor. Even before the arrival of the leftists’ regional party president, who would help Boughlem’s campaign and teach him voter outreach strategy, the villagers had met, convened a tribal congress, and pledged to support Boughlem’s mayoral candidacy—regardless of his party affiliation. “The style of politics is traditional in rural areas,” Boughlem explained. He continued, “Before the elections even begin, everybody meets to decide who will represent the tribe and its interests to the regime. From the villagers’ perspective, the party doesn’t matter—they just follow the person. They said to me: ‘If you go with any party, we’ll go with you.’”50 With this support from Ighzrane’s rural residents, Boughlem secured victory for himself and five other leftist candidates in 2003. They took control of the rural commune and made Boughlem mayor. Although the leftist party had recruited Boughlem for the 2003 elections, it abandoned him afterward. Leftist party leaders neither revisited Ighzrane between 2003 and 2007 nor worked to shift resources to the commune, especially from leftist-controlled ministries. A rivalry developed between the leftist regional party president, Driss Chatibi, and Boughlem. The latter grew to dislike the former because he had sought to monopolize the region’s leftist internal politics in the region. Boughlem alleged that Chatibi only gave the tazqiyah (party authentication for candidacy) to his close allies to run in the 2007 parliamentary elections and threatened to do the same for the 2009 communal elections. He also interfered in conflicts in Ighzrane’s rural commune, favoring his supporters and disadvantaging Boughlem’s. The issue revolved around clientelist benefits derived from permits to exploit the rural commune’s timber cooperative that the two sides had fought over. Another underlying tension was that Chatibi sought to bolster the positions of the tribes that opposed Boughlem within the commune. Given the leftist party’s inability to secure resources for Ighzrane and these internal conflicts, Boughlem welcomed the PAM’s cooptation when leaders from the party tried to co-opt him. “The PAM,” one leftist politician and a former colleague of Boughlem noted, “sought him

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out because of his personal following; they knew he could win the election. People have a grassroots constituency, not the parties.”51 The leftist politician further explicated: “Unfortunately, we see university professors lose in elections to illiterate people. We, the voters, vote for the person who lives nearest. The representatives and elites of the tribes, mostly.” He continued: “There is not political consciousness among Moroccan voters. They only vote for their interests; those who are close to their families and will bring them the most resources.”52 By getting co-opted by the PAM, Boughlem aimed to advance his supporters’ interests and also further his own ambitions. Both the rural commune and Boughlem, indeed, benefited from the latter’s co-optation into the loyalist party. After his co-optation, the commune received increased funding through a rural highways program that financed two twenty- and ten-kilometer roads to connect the region’s hamlets. Later, the rural commune received a project to construct a new large school that would include dormitories for pupils who encountered difficulty traveling from outlying villages to the commune’s center. Boughlem used his connections with the PAM, and its influence in Rabat, to encourage the Ministry of Education to place the school in Ighzrane. With his achievements, Boughlem won reelection easily as a PAM candidate. He also helped the PAM co-opt several former leftists elected in the commune into the loyalist party. The leftists lost most of their control within the commune during the 2009 elections, retaining only three of thirteen communal representative posts. According to Boughlem’s account, his former leftist compatriots wanted revenge. One of the leftists met a local drunkard, who was paid to attack Boughlem. At four on the morning after the elections, the drunkard burst into the mayor-elect’s home and stabbed him, leaving wounds to his face and neck. Rushed to the hospital where he would stay for two days, Boughlem’s vocal cords had been severed, leaving him unable to speak for months. Thereafter, Boughlem became a regional celebrity and easily won a deputy seat in the 2011 parliamentary elections as a PAM candidate. Besides securing more resources for Ighzrane, Boughlem had leveraged the PAM’s co-optation to fulfill his personal political ambitions, becoming a parliamentary deputy.

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Another example of a group of leftist politicians co-opted into Morocco’s loyalist parties occurred in Mghassiyine, a rural commune in Meknès Province. There, power revolves around a notable family—the Belalaali. The Belalaali have long held a venerated position in the village as stewards of the Sidi Ali Ben Hamdouch shrine, an ancient pilgrimage site. On the prophet Mohammed’s birthday, pilgrims visit the shrine and partake in an annual festival, which includes not only dancing but also, according to Abdellah Hammoudi, “highly dramatized” rituals of animal sacrifice.53 The family had grown wealthy through donations of pilgrims, which are protected from taxation in a religious trust (or habbous).54 Some of this wealth also trickled down through clientelist hierarchies to benefit the village’s inhabitant. The Belalaali had always been considered influential leaders and patrons overseeing clientelist networks. Thus, the leftists recruited them as candidates for the 2003 elections. The party promoted the family’s two leading brothers, Abdnasr and Mohamed Najib. Rumors also surfaced suggesting that one of the brothers had likely obtained a false primary school diploma to qualify for mayoral candidacy. Local voters, many of whom were illiterate, rallied around the campaign of the leftist party because of the brothers’ clientelist ties and local influence. Leftists converted Belalaali familial power and clientelist ties to make Mghassiyine an electoral stronghold, winning eight of thirteen communal representatives. The Belalaali had no clear commitment to leftist ideology. Describing why the leftist party enlisted the Belalaali brothers as candidates, its regional president in Mghassiyine surmised, “The USFP no longer cares about ideology of its activists but rather only brings in candidates that can win more seats.” This was the party’s internal policy of openness (alinfitaaH) and political efficacy (al-faa‘iliyyah as-siyaasiyyah) in selecting candidates, as implemented after 2002.55 Much like the PAM’s co-optation of Mohamed Boughlem, a loyalist party moved to absorb the leftist party’s Belalaali brothers into its ranks. By getting co-opted by this loyalist party, the Belalaali brothers aimed to secure resources for their village and also advance their political ambitions. Although other villages had benefited from Youssoufi’s central

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government, Belalaalis’s commune of Mghassiyine received little assistance from the leftists. Leftist leaders never visited the commune after the 2003 elections. They did little to enhance its infrastructure, awarding the village no new projects from either its rural road or electrification fund. “Whenever these local elites think there’s a party with a future and becoming stronger, then they join it,” as the leftist party’s local president in Mghassiyine explained. “They have no ideology, and their supporters are illiterate so they don’t have political consciousness. They only care about the delivery of services from local politicians.”56 Hence, in 2008, the brothers defected from the leftist party and were co-opted by a loyalist party, the Constitutionalist Union. With their influence within the village, the brothers were ideal targets for co-optation. The loyalist party’s officials realized that the brothers could win the election by mobilizing clientelist hierarchies and pressuring other leftist politicians to also incorporate into the loyalist party. The Belalaali brothers won the election and also co-opted four former leftists into the loyalist party, so they controlled a majority of representative seats in the commune. This time, the Belalaali younger brother became mayor, swapping places with his older brother, who had held the post from 2003 to 2009. Thereafter, the regime delivered benefits to the village, specifically an ambulance and infrastructure improvements of roads and the marketplace. Unlike the leftists, Morocco’s Islamists did not generally succumb to this form of co-optation executed by loyalist parties. Of the 175 Islamist communal representatives elected within the communes included in this book’s data set, only 7 were successfully co-opted by loyalist parties. Because the Moroccan Islamists draw on an urban constituency with low illiteracy rates and largely not constrained by clientelist bonds, their politicians were more able to maintain organizational strength and resist cooptation by loyalist parties. In general, the data included herein indicate that the Islamist party has not—like the leftist party—realigned its social base to include traditional politicians relying on rural clientelist relations. Since co-optation largely did not work against Islamist politicians elected in communes, the regime turned to more direct tactics. In Meknès, the largest urban commune under Islamist control after 2003, the Interior Ministry removed the mayor, Aboubakr Belkora, in February 2009. After

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conducting an audit of his commune, the Interior Ministry determined that the Islamist mayor had misused his powers. He had permitted his wife to construct a building that violated housing codes. One Islamist leader and parliamentary deputy, Lahcen Daoudi, criticized Belkora’s dismissal as “purely political,” given that it had occurred only months before the elections.57 Yet repression intensified against the Islamists outside of the case of Belkora and beyond the city of Meknès. The Interior Ministry accused other Islamist politicians, such as vice mayor of Salé Jama’a al-Moutassim and several Marrakech communal representatives, of similar acts of mismanagement. The regime imprisoned al-Moutassim—an Islamist leader—for several months after the allegations. Most seriously, in the city of Oujda, the regime’s forces attacked and beat one Islamist politician into a coma. Mauritania: The Failed National Front for the Defense of Democracy, August 2008–March 2009 Mauritania’s leftists and Islamists had held historically diverging ideologies and policy priorities yet found reason to forge an active alliance on the national level in the 2000s. This alliance emerged when a mutual threat appeared: Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz’s military coup of August 2008. The coup cut short Mauritania’s brief experiment with democracy from 2005 to 2008. While the two parties formed an alliance in response to the coup threat, this opposition coordination did not endure. It was unstable and irregular. Ultimately, President Abdel Aziz’s ruling regime party co-opted the Islamists and crippled the alliance. In reaction to Abdel Aziz’s coup, Mauritania’s leftist and Islamist parties founded the National Front for the Defense of Democracy. The Islamists and leftists played leading roles in forming the FNDD, which also included other centrist parties. On the evening following Abdel Aziz’s putsch, the parties converged in initial emergency planning meetings at the leftist party’s headquarters and, two days later, signed the FNDD pact at the Islamist party’s office. Jemil Ould Mansour, the Islamist party’s president, served as the FNDD’s first rotating chairman. “From the beginning,” Mansour described, “the FNDD was an alliance formed to reject

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the 2008 military coup. It was never an electoral alliance. We never developed a shared political program.”58 The FNDD organized a series of protests, marches, and sit-ins against the threat posed by the military coup, but Abdel Aziz’s regime managed to retain power. Although Mauritania’s leftists and Islamists had different ideologies and policy programs, they united in a coalition to reject the 2008 coup to preserve recent gains in democratization. Co-optation of Mauritania’s Islamist Leaders The FNDD did not endure, however. By the fall of 2008, coup leader Abdel Aziz declared he would found a new regime party, compete as a candidate in the June 2009 presidential elections, and organize new senatorial elections. Mauritania’s Islamists would be co-opted during these events, causing the FNDD’s collapse in less than a year. In a first step in March 2009, Abdel Aziz began to pry the Islamist party away from the FNDD alliance. Conceding to a historic Islamist demand, Abdel Aziz expelled Israel’s ambassador, shuttered its Nouakchott embassy, and cut diplomatic relations. By 2010 relations were severed completely. Abdel Aziz sought to woo the Islamists to his side, away from the FNDD; the Islamists responded positively. The Islamists gained a concession—the expulsion of the Israeli ambassador—that appeased their supporters. Indeed, when the Islamist party was formally founded in 2007, its leaders emphasized that the party’s top priority was ending Mauritania’s diplomatic relations with Israel. Also in March 2009, Abdel Aziz took a second step to destroy the FNDD alliance. He founded a new regime party, the Union for the Republic (Union pour la République [UPR]).59 Abdel Aziz created the UPR for two reasons. The first reason was to consolidate his de facto power by rallying his supporters into a new political party after the military coup. The UPR mobilized anticorruption slogans to draw these allies into the party, citing corruption that had plagued previous Mauritanian presidents. They portrayed Abdel Aziz as a coup leader committed to cleaning up politics. As Mohamed Mahmoud Ould Lemine, the UPR’s president, described the situation: “Originally, the UPR was founded to uproot

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clientelism.” Banning the “trafficking of influence,” according to Lemine, was the Abdel Aziz regime’s top priority.60 However, in reality, his regime depended greatly on attracting the loyalty of traditional politicians whose authority rested on rural, clientelist networks and their capacity to peddle influence with the regime. The second reason Abdel Aziz built the UPR was to enhance his perceived legitimacy as president. Because the constitution requires presidents to belong to a political party, he thought that creating the UPR and running a presidential campaign would legitimize the power he had seized by force to the citizenry. The FNDD could not maintain unity to contest Abdel Aziz and his new strong regime party. The left-Islamist alliance could not select a common candidate to challenge Abdel Aziz in the presidential election. Several parties supported Ahmed Ould Daddah, the former 2007 candidate, for president. Other opposition parties, including the leftist party, endorsed a black Arab anti-slavery activist, Messoud Ould Boulkheir. Unable to decide whom to support, the Islamists withdrew from the FNDD and nominated their own party leader, Jemil Ould Mansour, for the presidency. As Mohamed M’barek, an Islamist leader in the party’s secretariat general, explained, “We asked our constituents whom Tawassoul should endorse. If we went with Daddah, then Boulkheir would get angry with us. If we supported Boulkheir, Daddah would be mad at us. So, we nominated one of our own.”61 As the first party to defect from the FNDD, the Islamist party initiated a domino effect. Other opposition parties withdrew from the FNDD alliance and nominated their own presidential candidates. The Islamists had caused the left-Islamist coalition to collapse by choosing to nominate their own candidate rather than supporting the FNDD unified candidate. The presidential election results were announced: Abdel Aziz won the election with 52 percent of votes, whereas Jemil Ould Mansour did worse than expected, receiving only 5 percent of votes. Among the opposition parties, the Islamists were the first party to accept the election’s results. Seeking to pursue their party’s narrow electoral interests and the benefits associated with elected offices, the Islamists defected from the FNDD alliance. Meanwhile, the leftist party never accepted the results officially and decried widespread fraud and vote buying, especially in rural areas, where the regime tapped into its support through clientelist

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systems. That the autocrat who had seized power by way of coup had organized these elections meant that they were unlikely to be truly free and fair, the leftists reasoned. As the November 2009 senate elections approached, the relationship between the Islamists and Abdel Aziz’s regime party grew closer. The Islamists and the UPR allied to form a joint candidate slate, “the Union and Reform List.”62 Tawassoul’s president, Mansour, and the UPR’s campaign director, Lemrabott Sidi Mahmoud Ould Cheikh Ahmed, negotiated the alliance. He had served as interior minister during the reign of Taya and had coordinated the PRDS’s 2001 electoral campaign. In Abdel Aziz’s new regime, Cheikh Ahmed headed the Higher Institute for Public Administration. The name of the electoral alliance built between Mauritania’s Islamists and Abdel Aziz’s UPR drew on the first word of the regime party’s name, while “reform” referenced the third word in Tawassoul’s official party name—the National Rally for Reform and Development. Among Mauritanians, members of the Tawassoul Party are known as the iSlaaHiyyuun (Reformists). Abdel Aziz’s UPR and Mauritania’s Islamists allied with common candidate slates in several electoral districts. The Islamists rationalized their defection from the FNDD and their new alliance with Abdel Aziz’s party. “The alliance between Tawassoul and the UPR in these elections,” Jemil Ould Mansour stated, “is the fruit of a political partnership based on consultation and dialogue.” After Abdel Aziz’s election as president, Mansour continued, “Mauritania had entered a new phase of constitutional security in regard to completion of its constitutional institutions.” By forging an alliance with Abdel Aziz’s party, the Islamists were convinced the autocrat would share power with them and likely include them in his ruling majority government. At the very least, they reasoned that Abdel Aziz would preserve the powers that had been devolved to the communes under Islamist control after the 2006 communal elections. The UPR further proffered this idea to the Islamists. As Mohamed Mahmoud Ould Lemine, the UPR president, declared after the formation of the Islamist-UPR electoral alliance, “The cooperation of Abdel Aziz’s party in joint candidate slates embodies the eternal features of openness and dedication in the president’s way of change. It settles a year of dialogue with different political actors.”63 Tawassoul benefited little

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from this alliance with the autocrat’s party, however. It gained only one senate seat from this electoral alliance, while the UPR captured nine new seats. Despite this cooperation between Tawassoul and the UPR, Abdel Aziz refused to include the Islamists in his ruling majority government. The Islamists did not re-form the FNDD with other opposition parties, nor were they invited to enter Abdel Aziz’s ruling majority. The Islamists claimed to be “loyal opposition” to Abdel Aziz’s rule.64 Broader Trends in Co-optation of Mauritania’s Islamist Politicians After establishing the UPR in March 2009, Abdel Aziz sought to consolidate his new party. He began modeling the way in which Daddah and Taya had built their regime parties by co-opting traditional politicians from the countryside. Later he expanded this co-optation strategy to target Islamist politicians, especially mayors of rural communes. Analogous to how the PAM targeted Morocco’s leftists for co-optation, Abdel Aziz’s party moved to absorb Islamists into his party after they had been drawn away from the FNDD alliance. As in Morocco, this co-optation of Islamists occurred in a broad nationwide trend in scores of different communes across Mauritania. As a first step, Abdel Aziz moved to incorporate traditional politicians unaffiliated with Mauritania’s Islamist party into the UPR. Many of these politicians had been either independent candidates or former members of Taya’s party. “Abdel Aziz’s new party,” as one UPR leader explained, draws “support from rural areas where the economy depends on the state. It includes former independents and officials of Taya’s party.”65 As Noel Foster notes, it became evident that Abdel Aziz aimed to “resurrect the power” of Taya through rallying traditional politicians from rural areas and former apparatchiks into his new loyalist party.66 Because of the economic destitution and isolation of the rural communes they represent, politicians—especially communal mayors and representatives—often succumbed to the co-optation of Abdel Aziz’s UPR. Indeed, after Abdel Aziz founded the loyalist party in March 2009, 157 of 217 Mauritanian mayors defected from their parties and were co-opted

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into it. As many of these communal mayors and representatives were simultaneously traditional politicians, they needed resources to reward and aid their supporters within the clientelist networks that sustained their rule. To secure more funds for his commune’s development, a politician has difficulty remaining in an opposition party in Mauritania. Such trends in defection become most clear and evident in rural communes, where resources are even scarcer. As mayor of Kaedi Moussa Demba Sow explained, “My predecessor in Kaedi, he did two terms. Whenever he went to the federal ministries for help, he had difficulties. They would say: he’s in the opposition. Money comes from the Power in Mauritania.”67 By joining the UPR, Mayor Sow has had more success: “I was one of the seven founding members of the UPR. I’ve been able to construct a new sports stadium, bus station, and roads. You have to participate in the party of the Power to serve your commune.” Because the Islamists had left the FNDD and built a new alliance with Abdel Aziz’s UPR, the Islamists held on to hope that the putschist-cumpresident would preserve their politicians’ authority in the communes they controlled. It seemed unclear how the president would benefit from reducing the power of Islamist politicians if, ostensibly, they were now his allies. In a joint statement with the UPR for the 2009 senatorial elections, the Islamists expressed these concerns. The Islamists criticized Taya’s “central administration for not transferring powers to the communes.” But “without a doubt,” they emphasized that “the horizon is clear with the political will and actions implemented by the President of the Republic, Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz, in a very short period of time.” Building off their alliance, the Islamists and the UPR claimed to have “common denominators in the service of the public welfare.”68 What became clear, however, was that the Islamists’ alliance with the UPR did not protect its politicians from co-optation. Drawing Islamist mayors from rural areas into its ranks, the UPR replicated the strategy that Morocco’s PAM and other loyalist parties had used against the leftists. In particular, the UPR targeted Islamist mayors ruling communes where the opposition had full control. They sought to entice Islamist mayors to get co-opted into the UPR to access greater benefits for their

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communes and clientelist subordinates. This process of co-optation varied across the rural-urban divide, however. Islamist politicians in rural communes succumbed to co-optation more frequently than their counterparts in urban areas. Like Morocco’s leftists, Mauritania’s Islamist politicians defected from their opposition party and were co-opted into the regime’s party. Following the 2006 communal elections, Islamist mayors controlled twelve different communes across Mauritania, but, after Abdel Aziz founded the UPR, seven of twelve of these mayors defected to his loyalist party.69 Although the small number of Islamist mayors elected in Mauritania prevents this study’s capacity to use a regression model, as it does to explore variables correlated with successful co-optation of Moroccan leftists, descriptive statistics show similar trends. In examining the types of communes that these Islamist mayors represented, the ones that succumbed to co-optation disproportionately represented rural communes inhabited by residents with above-average illiteracy and poverty rates (relative to national averages). These communes are areas where clientelism remains robust compared with urban communes, where it is weak generally. Table 8 shows these trends. Through this process of co-optation, Mauritania’s Islamists grew closer to Abdel Aziz and the UPR. The president rewarded Islamist politicians for defecting and incorporating into his UPR. As the 2009 senatorial elections approached, the Islamists and the UPR ran joint candidate slates in the districts of Amourj, Guerou, Tintane, and Nouakchott. In urban Table 8 Mauritanian Islamist mayors and co-optation by Abdel Aziz’s loyalist party (Union for the Republic) 7 co-opted Islamist mayors

5 non-co-opted Islamist mayors

Rural commune?

5 rural, 2 urban

1 rural, 4 urban

High illiteracy?

5 above average, 2 below average

2 above average, 3 below average

High poverty?

6 above average, 1 below average

2 above average, 3 below average

Regime power (> 49 percent of seats %)

2 greater, 5 less

1 greater, 4 less

Source: Author’s data set of 2006 communal elections (Islamist mayor is unit; all 217 communes).

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areas, where it was weak, the UPR depended on Islamist support when it “would have to face off” and compete against other opposition parties, especially the leftists.70 In the rural communes, the two parties had overlapping voter constituencies that tapped into specific tribal voting blocs, which advanced the interests of both the Islamists and the UPR.71 Working through traditional politicians, both the Islamists and the UPR garnered votes in these rural areas. While Mauritania’s Islamists had historically relied on an urban social base distant from the rural tribal politics that had historically buttressed regime parties in the countryside, their expansion into such areas after 2006 opened the party up to co-optation. Much like Morocco’s leftists, this decision also undermined the party’s capacity to sustain enduring opposition alliances. Whereas the Islamists’ decision to abandon the FNDD and ally with Abdel Aziz’s UPR likely increased its chances in the senatorial elections, it also empowered the UPR to become the only party with a “candidate in every district,” which allowed it to win a large majority in the parliament.72 The UPR’s campaign strategy resembled the PAM’s “campaign of thickness” in Morocco. Conclusion This chapter has analyzed variation in the durability of left-Islamist alliances in national-level politics in Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania. While Tunisia’s left-Islamist alliance endured, its analogs in Morocco and Mauritania collapsed. In these countries, the sustainability of alliances hinged upon the co-optability of coalition partners. While the Moroccan leftists and Mauritanian Islamists became more co-optable over time, the Moroccan Islamists and Mauritanian leftists largely did not. Co-optation was highlighted as a distinct strategy of divide-and-rule that reinforces authoritarian regimes. In showing how this process played out in Morocco and Mauritania, this analysis has advanced efforts to elucidate the mechanisms behind how co-optation works and elaborate its capacity to help regimes undermine opposition alliances.

5 Zooming In Subnational Alliances in Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania

A closer look at Moroccan and Mauritanian politics reveals surprising cases of durable, long-term alliances between leftists and Islamists. By toggling down below the level of national politics to examine subnational politics, these instances of enduring alliances become apparent.1 Even though leftists and Islamists could not maintain alliances in national-level politics, they did find localized arenas wherein they could successfully build coalitions and sustain them over time. There, leftists and Islamists successfully mobilized their alliances to secure common objectives, force reforms from regimes, and block strategies of co-optation. On the subnational level, both leftists and Islamists managed to retain their historic urban social bases. When regimes moved to co-opt and collapse these opposition alliances in city and labor politics, leftists and Islamists resisted. Because in large cities and labor unions the opposition parties kept their historic urban social bases (largely uninfluenced by rural clientelist politics), their alliances became less susceptible to regime cooptation strategies and remained robust. Since leftists and Islamists used alliances in these contexts not only to shield against common threats but also to secure reforms favored by their urban middle-class social bases, they have become durable, long-term coalitions. Although chapter 4 examined statistical data from communal (that is, local) elections to show why co-optation of politicians succeeded in a broad nationwide trend across hundreds of predominantly rural communes, this chapter shows this process works in reverse. That is, it analyzes cases where 121

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co-optation failed against leftists and Islamists in the localized micropolitics of specific urban communes and labor unions. Drawing on fieldwork and interviews with leftist and Islamist local politicians (communal mayors and representatives), city alliances are studied in Agadir and Tétouan in Morocco. These were the two largest, most important cities in which leftIslamist alliances occurred after the 2009 communal elections.2 For Mauritania, the urban commune of Nouakchott and its city ward communes are analyzed. Labor politics in Morocco and Mauritania also became sites in which durable, long-term left-Islamist alliances were built. Unions of public employees provided leftists and Islamists vehicles whereby they could forge enduring alliances to pressure regimes for reform. Using alliances between their labor unions, the leftists and Islamists secured better wages, work conditions, and promotional opportunities for their grassroots supporters, largely public-sector employees of urban middle-class backgrounds. Although opposition coordination between leftist and Islamist unionists began in the late 2000s, their contestation climaxed during the 2011 Arab uprisings. These findings from left-Islamist alliances in cities and unions parallel with results of studies like those works of Melani Cammett and Pauline Jones Luong, who find that Islamists have built a unique “reputation for good governance.” This finding helps them build and maintain support among educated, urban, and middle-class citizens.3 Analyzing these subnational cases also helps to address this book’s counterfactual question: Had Morocco and Mauritania’s leftists and Islamists kept their urban social bases, could they have built more durable, long-term alliances? Answering this question highlights the importance of an opposition party’s urban social base in providing an anchor for enduring alliances. It indicates that were leftists and Islamists able to preserve urban middle-class support at the national level, they likely could have also sustained opposition coordination in this context. City Politics in Urban Communes of North Africa Following French colonialism, Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania set up local government bodies to control politics in urban quarters and rural

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villages, known as communes. In setting up city governments, the three regimes mimicked the de jure administrative codes and procedures common to French urban communes. However, the three regimes differed in how much de facto power they ultimately devolved to them. Under Bourguiba (and later Ben Ali), Tunisia’s urban communes had little independence from the regime, whereas in Morocco and Mauritania they possessed more autonomy.4 Because Morocco’s and Mauritania’s regimes chose not to “control power as tightly at the local level” in urban communes, they evolved into sites where meaningful left-Islamist alliances and contestation arose in the late 2000s.5 For example, Moroccan politicians in urban communes had more freedom to discuss local issues and “give opinion on laws and regulations” to the central regime than in Tunisia.6 By contrast, Tunisia’s authoritarian regime monopolized control over urban communes before 2011, blocking opposition attempts to make them arenas of contestation. Left-Islamist alliances could never be forged in Tunisian city politics. The king in Morocco devolved more power to these elected representatives in the communes than Bourguiba in Tunisia. This approach derived from the fact that the king held the allegiance of most traditional politicians elected as mayors and representatives in the rural communes. Moreover, the Interior Ministry’s agents played a much stronger direct role in administering rural communes, which acted, as Sylvia Bergh notes, to “compensate for the lack of competent civil servants in the local administration” in the countryside.7 In many Arab regimes, city politics do not rival national politics in significance or influence. For example, Egypt’s analog to the communes— the “localities” (maHalliyyaat)—does not possess serious policy-making powers. “Many officials in Egypt,” as James Mayfield describes, consider them “extraneous” and of “no consequence to broader issues and concerns at the central level.”8 However, this observation does not apply to North Africa and, especially, Morocco. There, the stakes of city politics are high. Funding for the communes surpassed all other expenditures as the largest item in Morocco’s national budgets of 2007, 2008, and 2009. Moreover, the proportion of these budgets dedicated to communes also grew, ticking up from 17 to 24 to 26 percent.9 Recognizing communes’ policy and

124  ■  Why Alliances Fail Table 9 Comparing voter turnout in Moroccan elections Year Election type Turnout

1997

1997

2002

2003

2007

2009

2011

2015

2016

P

C

P

C

P

C

P

C

P

58%

75%

51%

54%

37%

52%

45%

54 %

43 %

Note: P = parliamentary; C = communal.

budgetary powers, voter turnout of Moroccans in communal elections has consistently surpassed parliamentary elections (see table 9). Formally speaking, communes have numerous powers over locallevel policy issues that have important effects on citizens’ daily lives. Local politicians have the authority to create a city budget, grant permits, and launch economic and social development projects. They have power over urban planning, road construction, and delivery of basic services (water, electricity, and garbage collection). The commune also has the authority to collect revenue through a variety of fees, including business permits, rental taxes, taxi licensing, and luxury taxes (such as those fees imposed for sporting events, concerts, and hunting expeditions). But as one recent study emphasizes, the “power at the heart” of the commune in tackling these policy issues rests “most of all in the hands” of the mayor.10 In addition to these formal policy powers, opposition parties can use communes to assert local autonomy against the central regime. After communal reforms in 1976, Morocco’s opposition parties gained new local powers to scrutinize federal ministries’ projects and supervise police.11 Using administrative courts, local politicians can petition to block the actions of federal ministries. In communal meetings, oppositionists can criticize regime actions publicly to increase citizen awareness. According to their formal powers and responsibilities, communes have influence and can, hypothetically, serve as sites for opposition activism. North Africa’s communal systems evolved in divergent directions, however. Opposition parties never gained control of urban communes in Tunisia, whereas they made such city politics important arenas of contestation in Morocco and Mauritania.

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Never the Opportunity: Opposition Alliances in Tunisian City Politics In Tunisia, opposition parties never used opposition alliances to seize control of urban communes. Bourguiba and Ben Ali kept city halls under their decisive rule. Before colonialism, Tunisian communes were led by groups of notables and traditional politicians who acted as elected representatives and typically represented tribal interests.12 Under colonialism, the French did away with these practices, and the central power imposed mayors on the communes. Thereafter, Bourguiba promulgated communal reforms in which mayors were drawn from agents of the regime’s party’s leadership corps and imposed from above. Local politicians serving as communal representatives could not nominate their own mayor locally and were expected to vote and approve the regime’s nominees. The mayors represented the regime and surveilled local politicians and citizens.13 They had insufficient funds to be more than watchdogs; allocations for communes constituted about 3 percent of the national budget.14 While the de jure administrative framework of French communes had been retained, Bourguiba manipulated their rules to enhance his control. Notwithstanding Bourguiba’s consolidation of control over the communes, the 1957 communal elections were among the most competitive in pre-2011 history. In 25 percent of the communes (especially rural ones), oppositionists won seats.15 Responding, Bourguiba promulgated laws that weakened the communes and centralized power in Tunis. He stripped the communes of budgetary powers and dissolved three opposition-run communes.16 The new law also banned politicians from issuing “proclamations” or expressing “political views.” As a result, politicians elected to the communes discussed nothing in meetings without preapproval from Tunis. Future elections included only candidates for communal positions who had passed Bourguiba’s party’s vetting.17 For rural communes, all laws and projects had to be approved by the interior minister. Anything contradicting central policy was annulled. In the 1970s and 1980s, Tunisia toyed with decentralization to please international banks. These reforms, as John Nellis notes, were aimed at

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getting communes involved “in the promotion of the economic, social, and cultural life of the locality” and not to serve “merely as the lowest level of the central state.” However, in reality, the regime implemented only partial and halting reforms. Financial support for communes remained paltry: allocations hovered around 5 percent of the budget in the 1970s. Moreover, 42 percent of these expenditures went to the Tunis commune.18 Because of the regime’s reliance on an urban social base centered in Tunis, it wanted to ensure this urban commune and others like it remained firmly controlled. Although having strong support among the urban middle class, neither Tunisia’s leftists nor its Islamists could place their politicians as mayors or representatives in urban communes. Once president, Ben Ali declared tacit support for decentralization but did not take real steps to devolve power. Before communal elections, political parties presented slates of candidates that the regime party’s local officers approved beforehand. Although local politicians elected as communal representatives gained the right to select their mayors by vote, the central regime had to approve their nominees. Often it overrode these local nominees, installing its own preferred mayors.19 In 1998 an electoral reform limited opposition parties to obtaining no more than 20 percent of communal representative seats within any one commune. In the same period, the president of Tunisia’s National Institute of Administration declared, “There are no local governments in Tunisia. There is only the central government. There are, however, powers that have been de-concentrated to local levels of the administration.”20 Despite its rhetoric supporting decentralization, Tunisia’s central regime dominated the communes. Following the 2000 communal elections, no opposition party won enough seats to govern a single commune. Ben Ali’s party ruled 157 out of 257 communes outright and shared control in 62.21 After the 2005 and 2010 communal elections, likewise, it secured 94 percent and 90 percent of all communal representative seats, respectively.22 It blocked about two hundred opposition candidates from competing. Some minor opposition parties were permitted to compete yet captured only a handful of communal seats. The regime also allowed Mustapha Ben Jaafar’s party to compete, though it blocked it from winning any seat.23 Throughout the 2000s, no opposition party controlled the

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majority of representative seats necessary to govern a commune alone or elect an opposition mayor. Unlike in Morocco and Mauritania, Tunisia’s central regime monopolized city politics. Tunisia’s regime snuffed out politics in urban communes, eliminating any possibility for opposition alliances therein. This subnational domain of politics never became a realistic site for possible opposition alliances between leftists and Islamists, given the relationship of tutelle (tutelage) that the regime imposed on cities. Arenas of Contestation: City Politics in Morocco and Mauritania By contrast, opposition parties combat the regime in city politics in Morocco and Mauritania, especially in large urban communes. They have become battlegrounds for opposition and loyalist parties. Leftists and Islamists have won communal representative positions, defeated proregime candidates, and elected their own mayors. After Morocco’s 2009 communal elections and Mauritania’s 2006 communal elections, leftists and Islamists forged alliances in numerous urban communes that evolved into enduring opposition coalitions over time. In Morocco this opposition coordination built on the electoral success the Islamists had achieved after the 2003 communal elections, placing mayors at several large urban communes.24 While leftist electoral strength gradually declined in urban areas after 2003, they maintained control over a few historic city strongholds, like Agadir and Rabat. In Mauritania, Islamist party president Jemil Ould Mansour served as mayor of Nouakchott’s largest urban ward commune, Arafat. Comparing Tunisia’s communal elections with the elections in Morocco and Mauritania, opposition forces made far more headway in the latter. After the 2003 Moroccan and 2006 Mauritanian communal elections, politicians from opposition parties won more than 32 and 40 percent, respectively, of total communal representative seats. Enduring Left-Islamist Alliances in Moroccan Cities Although Morocco’s leftist party has a long, storied history of oppositional activism in urban areas, it has been gradually drawn into the clientelist

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politics of rural areas since 2002. However, in specific major cities, Morocco’s leftists have retained their traditional urban base. In these urban communes, the leftist party succeeded in building durable, long-term alliances with Islamists and rejected regime strategies of co-optation. Through the National Front for Democracy, created by Driss Lachgar in 2009, the leftists and Islamists announced that they would cooperate to form alliances in larger cities, exceeding forty thousand people. There, the parties tapped into similar grassroots constituencies of urban voters of largely middleclass backgrounds. In these cities, as Islamist minister and parliamentary deputy Najib Boulif conveyed, the “two parties had the same orientation toward benefiting and being close to common citizens. This came from the fact that the USFP was a strong opposition force historically (at least until 1998) and the PJD also had popular support. This led the two parties to harmonize and create arrangements to govern and administer several major cities.”25 In addition to the common threat facing the leftists and Islamists, that is, the regime’s PAM project, the opposition parties argued that their alliance in the communes would advance reforms that benefited their similar social bases. Reflecting on his party’s alliance with the leftists in the urban communes in 2009, Islamist party president Abdelilah Benkirane stressed the importance of the two parties’ similar social bases. “We deal with the same social class,” he surmised. “The PJD and the USFP are very similar in that regard. We are a conservative party with an Islamist ideology but we are progressive reformists, like leftists. We are leftists who want to preserve traditional Islamic values. We’re not like traditional conservative notables” from rural areas.26 Other Islamist leaders echoed Benkirane’s sentiments. The two parties were different ideologically but similar socially. They promoted policy issues in communal governance important to urban citizens of mainly middle-class backgrounds. One of the most important issues to these urban constituents was reducing corruption in city halls. The Islamists’ Lahcen Daoudi said both parties could “form a strong and cohesive alliance” to pose a “united front against corruption” in the urban communes. This alliance could open “the possibility of future cooperation” between leftists and Islamists on other policy issues, he stressed.27 Some leftists and

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Islamists hoped that future cooperation could include common candidate slates in the next parliamentary elections.28 The year 2009 was not the first time the Islamist party had centered its electoral campaign on anticorruption to draw the support of an urban social base. For the 2003 communal elections, the Islamist party’s policy program similarly declared that “the struggle against corruption would be first among all priorities in the party’s program for communal governments.”29 Like the Islamists, the leftists also stressed their desire to reduce corruption through an alliance with the Islamists following the 2009 communal elections. “In both our opinions and projects, there is a profound division between the Islamists and us,” former leftist minister of culture Mohammed Achaari said. “But,” he continued, “that doesn’t prevent the two parties from forming communal alliances in the service of citizens’ interests. That doesn’t prevent us from joining to fight against economic and political corruption.”30 Further, the leftists and Islamists had other “common denominators,” the leftist party’s Driss Lachgar explained. They included “popular and democratic foundations” in the urban social milieu. Similarly, the leftist party’s president in 2009 announced he wanted to “dedramatize the conflicted ideological relationship between the USFP and the PJD.”31 Although the two parties had strikingly divergent ideologies, programs, and values, he emphasized that the leftist party could unite in alliances in urban communes to push for reforms that advantaged their similar social bases. On June 12, 2009, Morocco held communal elections. Mobilizing rural areas, the PAM swept the polls. It received 21 percent of total communal representative seats nationally, a large percentage given that over a dozen parties competed. The regime’s four major loyalist parties—the PAM, RNI, UC, and MP—won 49 percent of seats. Using its “campaign of thickness,” the PAM successfully recruited the greatest number of candidates. As a result, the PAM candidates covered a far larger percentage of communal districts, more than 60 percent, than the leftists and Islamists, who covered approximately 35 percent.32 The PAM’s striking success—for a party founded less than a year earlier—paralleled the success of Réda Guédira’s party in the 1963 communal elections. Here, too, a regimebacked party won the communal elections by recruiting an overflow of

130  ■  Why Alliances Fail

candidates who were traditional rural politicians with patron-client ties. The PJD received 5.5 percent of the total seats nationally, whereas the USFP won 11.6 percent of seats. Despite their weak results nationally, the Islamists came in first place in major urban areas of more than forty thousand inhabitants. The leftists maintained control over some urban strongholds, notably Agadir, though their urban support attenuated even more since the 2003 communal elections. The leftists and Islamists were considered the 2009 election’s losers. In cities where the leftists and Islamists achieved electoral success and aimed to appoint mayors to control city halls, the PAM and other loyalist parties threatened the opposition parties. With the regime’s support, these parties moved to block opposition politicians from taking control of urban communes. In Meknès, where the Islamist mayor had been expelled four months earlier, a PAM politician became mayor. Likewise, in Kenitra and Témara, the PAM overtook Islamists’ mayoral positions. Also in Kenitra, the PAM worked with domestic intelligence to interfere with the leftists’ results during vote sorting.33 The PAM’s threat against the Islamists in city politics intensified in Oujda’s urban commune. Here, the Islamists won first place (twenty-one communal representative seats) and aimed to ally with another party, which had secured third place (with fourteen seats), to control city hall. In second place, the PAM captured sixteen seats. Because together they controlled thirty-five of sixty-five seats, the Islamists and the third-place party announced an alliance to install an Islamist mayor. Through cooptation attempts, pressure, and (ultimately) violence, the PAM blocked the Islamist mayor from assuming power. The PAM pressured politicians from the third-place party against forging an alliance with the Islamists. Before the election, the PAM moved to co-opt some Islamists to weaken the party. In April 2009, the PAM succeeded in co-opting an Islamist communal representative, Khalid Zohir, into its ranks. This Islamist became a PAM candidate for the 2009 elections.34 The PAM dispatched Zohir to try to co-opt other Islamist local politicians into the loyalist party, but these attempts failed. Despite the PAM offensive against the Islamists, the party continued to pursue an alliance with the third-place party to take control of the urban commune. Abdelaziz Aftati, Oujda’s Islamist parliamentary

Subnational Alliances  ■  131

deputy, described the conflict: “The PAM was the regime’s first wall of defense against the Islamists, and in Oujda that wall fell the hardest. Here, there was a direct face off between the PAM and the Islamists more than anywhere else in Morocco.”35 Because the PAM’s co-optation against the Islamists failed, it leveraged help from the regime to prevent an Islamist mayor from taking control of Oujda city hall. The second wall of defense, in Aftati’s words, fell. And it fell hard. Local police attacked two Islamist local politicians following the formal announcement of the Islamist-led alliance in the urban commune. One of the Islamists, Noureddine Benbakr, went into a coma from blows to the head. The “local security authorities were the authors of the assault,” one Islamist leader, Mostafa Ramid, stated. But, he declared, “the central authorities were certainly aware of what was happening and did not intervene to restore order.”36 Because co-optation failed, the regime’s security apparatus pushed the PAM to victory and blocked an Islamist mayor. Resilient Left-Islamist Coalitions in Agadir and Tétouan To resist the PAM threat and gain control of large cities, the leftists and Islamists mobilized the National Front for Democracy in July 2009. From USFP headquarters, Driss Lachgar played a crucial role in the alliance. This coalition began several months before Lachgar succumbed to regime co-optation in his dealings with PAM leaders. Lachgar, as one Islamist leader described, “engineered” many of the left-Islamist alliances in the urban communes.37 He encouraged the left-Islamist alliances by telephoning leftist local politicians and traveling to cities where the coalitions were being negotiated. Together, the leftists and Islamists coordinated to build alliances in numerous major cities: Agadir, Chefchaouen, Rabat, Tétouan, Larache, Kasbat Tadla, and Ourzazate. These cities provided venues for leftists and Islamists to contest Morocco’s regime, the PAM, and the other loyalist parties. Next, left-Islamist alliances in two of these cities—Agadir and Tétouan—are examined. Before the 2009 communal elections, Agadir had a leftist mayor, Tariq Kabbage. After the 2003 elections, Kabbage had been nominated for mayor in alliance with two loyalist parties. To form a twenty-four-seat majority

132  ■  Why Alliances Fail

on the forty-seven-seat communal council, the leftists (with fourteen communal representative seats) allied with the RNI (six seats) and another pro-regime party (nine seats). During the 2003–9 communal government, the leftists experienced difficulties working with the loyalist parties in its alliance. The RNI’s communal representative had begun to consort with local real estate developers. The RNI local politicians received side payments, lucrative construction subcontracts, and insurance-provision deals for facilitating the passage of beachside building projects through the city’s planning committee. The leftists on the committee had been pressured to sell off public land at bargain prices. As mayor, Kabbage had sought to stop these corrupt activities with limited success. The leftists feared they might lose Agadir, which had been a bastion of leftist support since the 1960s. The leftists planned to ally with the Islamists to exclude communal representatives from loyalist parties. After the 2009 elections, Kabbage contacted the Islamists’ local party president, Ismail Shukri. With twenty-six communal representative seats, the leftists would ally with the Islamists, who held seven seats, to create a ruling majority government (thirty-three of fifty-five total seats). The parties released a joint statement to the media. In their declaration, they emphasized that the left-Islamist alliance would strive to “maintain the city’s work and protect it from practices outside the law.”38 Two days later, Shukri appeared on a local radio station. He specified the alliance’s purpose—to “cleanse the city of corruption” perpetrated by officials of loyalist parties and real estate developers. He assured radio listeners that the Islamists planned to work “hand in hand with Kabbage” and would not institute socially conservative policies that would turn Agadir into “one of the Taliban’s counties in Tora Bora.”39 To formalize the alliance and nominate Kabbage as mayor, the newly elected leftist and Islamist communal representatives called an evening meeting at Agadir’s city hall. Also in attendance, the local RNI politicians made their presence known. In a non-air-conditioned building in the summer, the temperature soared above a hundred degrees, with thick humidity. The local politicians grew irritated, anxious, and sweaty as negotiations over communal positions exceeded seven hours and extended into the early morning. The loyalist party’s local politicians pressured the leftist electees to break their alliance with the Islamists. Local real estate

Subnational Alliances  ■  133

developers offered about $1,000 to any leftist who agreed to defect from their party and get co-opted into the RNI.40 Throngs of leftist and Islamist youth activists descended on Agadir’s city hall, swarming the commune’s hallways and occupying its meeting chamber. “There were face-offs, insults, and abuses between leftist and Islamist activists and supporters of the other parties,” a local journalist reported. Under pressure and intense heat, some of the communal representatives grew frustrated and scuffled. The RNI’s local party president accused the leftist and Islamist youth activists of carrying knives into the city hall. He called local domestic intelligence, which dispatched plainclothes thugs. They burst into the commune’s meeting chamber, assaulting youth protesters and local politicians with batons. In the skirmish, a glass ballot box used for voting was smashed.41 Despite these pressures, the leftists and Islamists sealed the alliance deal. Speaking before an audience of local journalists, activists, and citizens, Kabbage and Shukri declared the formation of the left-Islamist alliance. Kabbage won a second term as Agadir’s mayor. “The conspiracy against us to which domestic intelligence contributed has failed,” Mayor Kabbage announced. Next, Kabbage turned to address the youth who had occupied the commune’s meeting chamber: “Thank you to the four thousand activists who bestowed to us this victory and protected their votes of the June 12 election.”42 After the 2009 election, the left-Islamist alliance in Agadir endured. The alliance continued to take on policy issues and implement reforms important to both parties’ urban middle-class constituents. Kabbage’s administration improved city planning, garbage collection, and streetlight installation in neighborhoods. On Agadir’s beachfront, the left-Islamist alliance preserved public parks where real estate developers wanted to build hotels. “It all depends on the level of government,” a leftist communal representative in Agadir, Mohamed Hafidi, said, explaining how the leftists and Islamists overcame their ideological differences in their enduring alliance. “On the national level, we could not agree with the Islamists on separating boys and girls in schools or imposing harsh penalties for social transgressions. We couldn’t agree with them on renegotiating diplomacy, breaking

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Morocco’s relationship with the United States and France in exchange for Iran and Afghanistan. But, on the local level, we can work with them on a range of issues, like managing the city hall, protecting public funds, and waging war on corruption.”43 Although the leftists and Islamists sometimes disagreed over cultural activities planned by the urban commune, reflecting their divergence in values and social conservatism, these differences never threatened the stability of their alliance. After being initiated following a threat posed by the PAM, RNI, and other loyalist parties, the left-Islamist alliance in Agadir has endured because of the two opposition parties’ desire to advance reforms wanted by their urban and largely middle-class social base in this city. They focused on better, more professional governance and anticorruption measures desired by their constituents in the urban commune. In the city of Tétouan, a similar story unfolded. Islamists and leftists allied to oust the urban commune’s local politicians from loyalist parties, whom they perceived as corrupt. This cooperation eventually evolved into an enduring alliance between leftists and Islamists. The 2003 communal elections brought a loyalist party mayor—Rachid Talbi al-Alami of the RNI—to power in Tétouan’s city hall. To elect al-Alami with twenty-four of the communal council’s forty-seven total seats, the RNI (nine seats) developed an alliance with the leftists (ten seats) and a small local party (five seats). The leftists worked with the regime party; they assumed several offices in the communes. As in Agadir, Tétouan Islamists were communal representatives in opposition. In Tétouan’s pervious communal administration, from 2003 to 2009, al-Alami and the RNI communal representatives introduced a series of redevelopment projects in the city. These designs included remodeling the city’s main thoroughfares. As in Agadir, RNI communal representatives developed close relations with local real estate developers. These relations were built on easing and expediting the developers’ construction licenses. Consolidating control over the commune, the RNI sidelined the leftist communal representatives. Ahmed Benkhobza, an Islamist communal representative, explained: “In the last city hall, the leftists were in a bad position. Al-Alami had marginalized them and did not give them any governance responsibility. More

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than anything, however, the leftist communal representatives wanted a cleaner and better city hall.”44 In the days before the June 12 election, the leftists and Islamists met and conspired to oust Mayor al-Alami and the RNI local politicians from the commune. Once the electoral results were announced, a “secret call” went out to the communal representatives for a second meeting in a local safe house to negotiate the alliance.45 The leftists and Islamists drafted a joint media statement, titling the document “A Promise and Its Fulfillment to Tétouan’s Residents.” In the promise, USFP local president Mohamed Zoukari pledged that the left-Islamist allies would “block the way of corrupt” politicians and “build a commune that serves Tétouan and its residents.”46 The joint statement also criticized the regime’s administration of the election: there were “illegal and immoral” instances of “vote buying, misuse of city resources, and voter intimidation” on behalf of al-Alami’s reelection campaign.47 By taking on the issue of corruption in city hall, the leftists and Islamists addressed an issue of policy salience to their urban and predominantly middle-class constituents in Tétouan. Simultaneously, Mayor al-Alami called another meeting on the other side of town to combat the emerging left-Islamist alliance. Alami and the RNI communal representatives met with their benefactors, the real estate developers. They were an unscrupulous bunch. Some of the real estate developers, according to journalist Jamal Wahabi, had served prison time for their business ties to a hashish drug lord, Mounir Erranach, apprehended in 2003.48 The remainder, Wahabi averred, “had real estate transactions and financial assets of suspicious legality.”49 The RNI worked out a plan to prevent the left-Islamist alliance from taking al-Alami’s mayoralty. Al-Alami’s party received twenty-six communal representative spots, whereas the Islamists and leftists had secured twenty-two and seven, respectively. Mayor Alami needed twenty-seven of the fifty-five total communal representatives to approve his reelection. He aimed to marshal votes from the leftists. The loyalist party officials visited the homes of the leftist local politicians, pressuring their wives. They offered the leftists 10,000 dirhams (about $1,240) each if they broke their alliance with the Islamists and got co-opted into the RNI.50 As in Agadir, the local authorities got

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involved: plainclothes officers from domestic intelligence pressured the leftist communal representatives to forgo allying with the Islamists. But the leftists resisted. On June 24, al-Alami convened a communal meeting but could not muster a majority of representatives to vote to approve his reappointment as mayor. The leftists and Islamists boycotted the meeting. Hidden in safe houses, they released a second joint statement to the media, this time titled “The Pact of Honor and Commitment.” They announced that they would overturn the “practices of speculation, middleman-ism, and bribery that had tarnished the commune’s work” under Mayor al-Alami.51 Later that week, the leftist and Islamist communal representatives met and elected an Islamist, Mohamed Ida Ammar, as the new mayor. As in Agadir, Tétouan’s left-Islamist alliance has stabilized by addressing communal policy issues salient to the parties’ urban social base. In addition to dealing with issues of corruption and mismanagement in the commune, they have taken on local development policy concerns to enhance good governance. As Tétouan’s Islamist vice mayor, Abdelkarim Zakaria, described the situation: “The commune provides water, electricity, and road improvement. These public services don’t have a connection with ideology. They are matters of life.”52 Also as in Agadir, ideological differences and contradictions arose while the leftists and Islamists governed the city and introduced reforms desired by their similar social bases. Notably, the Islamists and leftists clashed over cultural issues and specifically public financing for a historic Spanish-era theater. “Differences exist between us in local governance, especially in the area of culture,” as one Islamist observed. “The leftists support some activities that we don’t think contribute to development and shouldn’t use public funds. There’s a historical cinema, for example. We don’t think that public funds should support it because the films it shows are not moral, showing pornographic or inappropriate scenes. But, in general, we want to find solutions together to support the citizens.”53 Although ideological conflicts surfaced between the leftists and Islamists, they did not cause the failure of their alliance. The potential disadvantages of collaborating in an enduring alliance concerning these ideology-based issues did not outweigh its advantages in instituting reforms.

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Durable Left-Islamist Coalitions in Mauritanian Communes As in Morocco, some of Mauritania’s urban communes have provided a site for enduring alliances between leftists and Islamists. In particular, coalitions that have endured over time and developed in the urban communes of Mauritania’s capital, Nouakchott. These urban communes include three of Nouakchott’s ward districts—Arafat, Toujounine, and Dar Naim—and the capital’s city government that oversees them, the urban commune of Nouakchott. These coalitions in Mauritanian communes followed a similar pathway to the alliances in Moroccan city halls: a mutual threat caused the alliance’s initial formation between leftists and Islamists, but their desire to mobilize it to implement reforms benefiting their similar urban middle-class social bases encouraged its endurance over time. A threat from regime loyalists instigated opposition coordination between leftists and Islamists in Mauritanian city politics. Fulfilling his promise after the 2005 military coup, transitional president Ely Ould Mohamed Vall prepared Mauritania for new communal elections in November 2006. Surreptitiously, Vall informed apparatchiks of the former regime that they could compete in the communal elections but only as independents or candidates of the PRDR (the successor party to Taya’s PRDS). As these apparatchiks vied for mayoral positions to control the communes, they, as one journalist writes, generated a “specter of Taya” that haunted city politics.54 Although the oppositionists had thought that the 2005 military coup had done away with Taya, his closest allies remained active and threatened the nascent democratic transition. This situation paralleled the one in Tunisia after the ouster of Ben Ali in 2011. To stop these Taya loyalists from taking power in the communes, Mauritania’s leftists and Islamists coordinated their opposition in city politics. In conjunction with five other opposition parties, they formed an alliance called the Coalition of Forces for Democratic Change (Coalition des forces du changement démocratique [CFCD]). The CFCD would coordinate to build alliances in the communes to nominate anti-Taya mayors. Through the CFCD, the leftists and Islamists aimed to take control of city politics by shifting power to opposition mayors. In their joint media statement, the

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leftists and Islamists claimed that “the CFCD would occupy a dominant place on the political scene” and would work to realize the “aspirations of the Mauritanian people.” The alliance would work for “responsible democratic change” and reject “political opportunism.”55 The left-Islamist alliance would block Taya’s loyalists from installing themselves as mayors of the communes. After announcing their coordination, the CFCD parties agreed to practical electoral cooperation. The parties ran a joint electoral campaign, appearing together as a united front at public rallies. To elect CFCD mayors after the communal elections, the parties agreed to mutual support. If one of the CFCD parties won greater than 30 percent of representative seats in a commune, the remaining allies would vote to support that party’s nominee for mayor. Through this unified action, they aimed to shift power in city politics from Taya loyalists to the opposition parties. On November 6, 2006, Mauritania’s communal elections were held. Across Mauritania, the CFCD secured victory in many urban communes. The leftists and Islamists and other CFCD parties built communal alliances in numerous major cities and city ward districts, including Aion, Kobeni, Tintane, Kiffa, Guerou, Rosso, Nouadibou, Selibaby, and Nouakchott’s wards. Mauritania’s Islamist party had not yet gained legal recognition by 2006, so its candidates ran on independent slates for the communal elections as the “Centrist Reformers” movement. Proregime forces affiliated with recently deposed autocrat Taya dominated the rural communes, winning 120 mayoral positions. This outcome was reminiscent of the PAM’s success in Morocco in 2009. These proregime mayors’ campaigns were led by a Taya-era interior minister, Lemrabott Sidi Mahmoud Ould Cheikh Ahmed. After the creation of Abdel Aziz’s regime in 2008, he would continue to serve as top political official and orchestrate the co-optation of the Islamists in the UPR-Islamist alliance for the 2009 senatorial elections. In the urban areas of Nouakchott, the CFCD alliance had a striking electoral success. The opposition alliance captured eight of nine of the city’s urban ward communes. The CFCD also elected Ahmed Ould Hamza, of the Rally of Democratic Forces party, as Nouakchott’s mayor. Islamist mayors took control of four of Nouakchott’s CFCD wards: Dar

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Naim, Toujounine, Arafat, and Tevragh-Zeina. The Islamists ran a sophisticated door-to-door campaign in these quarters to mobilize urban voters. As a leader in Taya’s former regime, transitional president Vall had tacitly supported the apparatchiks’ campaign to win the communes, but he did not try to overturn the CFCD’s victories when they occurred. Vall let the left-Islamist alliances take over governing responsibilities in the urban communes. He advanced this process in 2006 when he introduced new decentralization reforms, creating a Ministry of Decentralization. He promulgated new federal rules that devolved greater governing and financial powers to the communes. Although a threat instigated the CFCD alliance between leftists and Islamists in the communes, their efforts to institute reforms benefiting their similar social bases helped it endure over time. To locate these common interests, one need not look further than the left-Islamist communal alliances in Nouakchott. Here, leftists and Islamists built their alliances upon addressing policy issues salient to their urban and largely middleclass supporters. In local governance, the leftist and Islamist local politicians sought to reduce corruption and enhance local good governance policies. In the communes of Dar Naim, Toujounine, and Arafat, which suffered from the “anarchic urban development” of slums, reforms introduced included systematic city planning and road redevelopment.56 Leftists and Islamists improved water distribution and electrification services provided by their urban communes. Before the left-Islamist alliance, delivery of these services never exceeded 8 percent of residencies in the ward of Toujounine, for example.57 Leftists and Islamists also cooperated to improve and professionalize the commune’s services related to local education, especially anti-illiteracy campaigns. As in the communes of Agadir and Tétouan in Morocco, the left-Islamist alliances in Mauritania’s communes prided themselves on combating corruption, favoritism, and nepotism. These issues are important concerns of the parties’ urban and largely middle-class supporters in these communes. As Hawa Adama Diallo, the UFP vice mayor of the Nouakchott urban commune, explained, “When you enter the door of the commune, you have to forget about political loyalty. If someone’s with you or against you politically, he’s still in your community—we don’t discriminate.”58 Because of their

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desire to reform and enhance the professionalism of communal governance, both the Islamists and the leftists attracted the support of their social bases. Failed Attempts to Shatter Left-Islamist Alliances in Mauritanian Urban Communes Following the 2008 military coup, the Mauritanian state’s support for decentralization to the communes declined. Coup leader Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz perceived the left-Islamist alliances in urban communes as challenging his rule. He rescinded decentralizing reforms. He wanted communes weakened as governing bodies. A leftist local politician elected in the commune of Toujounine, Ahmed Salem Ould Ahmed, described the situation: “All of our powers were taken over by the central regime. Not in a written or legal way, but implicitly.” Back in 2006, he explained, “citizens had to go to the commune to pay the water bill. Now, they go to the Ministry of Water.”59 After Abdel Aziz won the 2009 presidential elections, he put the nail in the coffin. He dissolved the Ministry of Decentralization and subsumed it into the Ministry of Interior. Federal financing for communes fell to below 2 percent of the overall national budget.60 Few of the leftist or Islamist local politicians elected to the communes doubted the real motivation behind Abdel Aziz’s centralization policy. “The majority of communes were held by the CFCD. It was a strategy to weaken the opposition,” one leftist asserted.61 Ahmed Ould Hamza, the CFCD mayor of Nouakchott, became a public opponent of Abdel Aziz’s effort to gut the communes of their powers. Indeed, Hamza described the conflict between Abdel Aziz and the CFCDcontrolled communes artfully: “President Abdel Aziz wants to be the big sheikh with all the powers in the federal ministries. No sharing anything with the communes. He knows that the cities are always with the opposition. The people are more conscious in the cities than in Mauritania’s interior, where traditionalism and illiteracy remain high.”62 Abdel Aziz and the UPR sought to break CFCD alliances in urban communes as well, yet they did not ultimately succeed. Attempting to buy the allegiance of urban Islamist mayors, Abdel Aziz built two hospitals in their Nouakchott ward districts. The Islamists lauded Abdel Aziz’s work

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benefiting Nouakchott’s ward communes. He restructured the slums, built 100 kilometers of paved road, reinforced public health, and reduced the prices of water and other basic necessities. He also launched a campaign to title all land within the Nouakchott metropolitan area to legally codify squatters. Yet the Islamist mayors did not defect from the CFCD alliances established in urban communes. Unlike Islamist mayors in Mauritania’s rural areas in the interior, they were not co-opted into Abdel Aziz’s UPR party. Indeed, Nouakchott’s city ward districts have become exemplars of durable, long-term left-Islamist alliances that resisted co-optation. Although Abdel Aziz’s UPR could successfully co-opt Islamist mayors representing communes in the countryside by leveraging clientelist structures in these rural areas, this strategy did not succeed in the urban communes. Clientelism weakens dramatically in cities, where intermixing between citizens of diverse backgrounds occurs, endogamous marriage practices decline, and economic activity increases, obviating its material necessity. Thus, Abdel Aziz’s UPR could not leverage such structures to support its strategy of co-optation to break left-Islamist alliances in the urban communes. While a “class of opportunists” often takes advantage of communes to advance its own “personal or tribal position,” as Islamist mayor of Toujounine described it, the leftists and Islamists resist these practices in urban communes.63 The parties aim to insulate their urban communes’ work from rural, often tribal, politics, emphasizing the need to maintain neutrality and professionalism in the distribution and delivery of the commune’s services. Whereas Mauritania’s Islamists seemed content to use rural politics as a form of electoral strategy in the countryside, they rejected this type of behavior when administering and governing the urban communes within Nouakchott. Here, they enhance “good governance” practices to maintain the support of their urban and largely middle-class social base.64 Unlike other parties in Mauritanian politics, which favor certain tribal groups, the leftists and Islamists strive to diversify their leadership. In the urban metropolis of Nouakchott, where people of different social groups intermix, the two parties believed that a narrow political message based on tribal or ethnic loyalties would not succeed. “There are different tribes, blacks, Arabs, Pulaar, Wolof, Soneke in our leftist party, and we find the

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same thing in the Islamist party,” one leftist leader, Hawa Adama Diallo, said. “Both the leftists and Islamist parties don’t see differences between Mauritanians.”65 Organizationally, both the leftists and the Islamists have diversified the secretariat generals that govern their parties internally. For the leftist party, an Arab serves as party president, a black Arab is its first vice president, and an Afro-Mauritanian is its second vice president. For the Islamists, a black Arab and Afro-Mauritanian are included among the party’s seven vice presidents. The Islamists have also nominated prominent non-Arab politicians to important positions. They selected Yahya Coulibaly, a female Afro-Mauritanian, as the Islamist mayor of an important urban ward commune in Nouakchott. Both the leftists and the Islamists reject the practices of tribal favoritism, common in Mauritania’s rural countryside. On this point, one Islamist mayor elaborated: “Most Mauritanians are not educated. They’ll usually vote for someone because he’s from their tribe and not because they’ve been convinced by his ideas. They say: ‘I vote for so-and-so’s party because so-and-so is from my tribe.’ Both the Islamists and leftists are ideological parties and oppose this tradition.”66 Because both the leftists and the Islamists work in local governance in cities against the clientelist system still pervasive and entrenched in Mauritania’s rural interior, the urban communes have become sites of successful alliances resistant to regime strategies of co-optation. Moreover, these durable, long-term alliances became more likely to emerge when leftists and Islamists focused their political energies on pressuring for reforms that benefited their similar urban social bases. Coordinating Laborers: Coalitions between Left-Islamist Unions Like urban communes, which provided a site of politics where durable leftIslamist alliances could be forged, labor unions became vehicles whereby more durable coordination between leftists and Islamists could arise. North Africa’s European settlers first established relations between political parties and labor unions, which solidified during decolonization and expanded during regime formation. This cooperative relationship between

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parties and unions became well established and continues to affect politics in Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania today. Although some Arab unionists (notably the Tunisian Farhat Hached) strove to keep unions and parties “functionally and organically differentiated,” as Eqbal Ahmed explains, this effort largely failed.67 Rather, over time, cooperation between unions and parties deepened, and, by the 2000s, many unions became little more than vehicles that parties operate. Hence, leftists and Islamists—especially in Morocco and Mauritania—could ally through them to advance reforms benefiting their urban and predominantly middle-class social base. Juliette Bessis finds that 47 percent of the founders of Tunisia’s labor movement were European settlers.68 Unionists not only included Frenchmen but also Italians, Spanish, and Maltese. Often, they adhered to practices of labor organization prevalent in their home countries, frequently more confrontational than French unionism. In Morocco and to a lesser extent Mauritania, Europeans also played a role in creating labor movements. In 1943 a Frenchmen of Sephardic Jewish origins, Leon Sultan, founded the first union that would transform into Morocco’s UMT.69 One common slogan that emerged among unionists during this era was “equal pay for equal work,” referencing their objective to equalize salaries between European and Arab workers.70 In one early success, more than four thousand European and Arab workers struck together in the Moroccan public phosphate mines to force the colonial authorities to raise wages, improve working conditions, and institute a forty-eight-hour workweek.71 Their strikes spread to other economic sectors, especially among public employees. While leading Morocco’s largest union, Leon Sultan also simultaneously headed the French Communist Party’s Morocco branch. In both Tunisia and Mauritania, likewise, some union officials were concurrently officials in leftist political parties. This high level of crossover in the leaderships of unions and parties set a precedent that continues today. For example, the leaders of both Morocco’s and Mauritania’s Islamist affiliated unions (Mohamed Yatim and Mohamed Ahmed Ould Salek, respectively) concurrently hold posts within the central leadership of the Islamist parties. As the struggle for independence intensified, relations between political parties and unions deepened. Local nationalist movements enlisted

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syndicates in their cause. The UGTT’s founder, Farhat Hached, was a leading figure in Tunisia’s nationalist movement, collaborating with Bourguiba’s Neo-Destour party to agitate for French decolonization. This activism made, as Joel Beinin observes, Tunisia’s union the “most important in the Arab world.”72 Likewise, Morocco’s nationalist movement recruited unionists to mobilize for independence. Following the assassination of Farhat Hached in December 1952 by a French settler terrorist group, known as the Red Hand, Morocco’s nationalist movement mobilized unionists to strike back in Casablanca. Armed unionists skirmished with police.73 After decolonization, North African unions were some of the MENA’s largest. Tunisia had more than 150,000 unionized workers, whereas Morocco and Mauritania featured 576,000 and 45,000, respectively.74 The rapid growth of North Africa’s unions contrasted sharply with the unions in many other Arab states, like Jordan and Syria, where they were (according to Manfred Halpern) “too small to be more than sporadically active.”75 In particular, the unions organized urban educated workers in the public sector, specifically public employees. They became the mainstay of North Africa’s syndical movement. Indeed, as Montserrat Emperador Badimon explains, “A large proportion of secondary and university graduates were able to find employment in the public administration and become civil servants.” So among educated citizens of urban areas, this prevalence generated “the commonly held view that the public administration was the ‘natural’ employer.”76 Thereafter, unions played a fundamental role in affecting politics by collaborating with political parties. In the 1960s and 1970s, as Moore writes, “it became fashionable for political parties, however meager their membership, to form trade-union appendages.”77 This type of “political unionism” endorsed by oppositionists like Mehdi Ben Barka linked the party’s work directly to the union’s work.78 The party promoted the union’s agenda in institutional politics, while the union organized the party’s voters on the ground during elections. Working closely with political parties, unions asserted their authority to shape the postcolonial political economy to serve their interests. In Tunisia, for example, Bourguiba rewarded the UGTT by appointing its top leaders to his regime’s cabinet. These officials included the UGTT

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president from 1952 to 1957, Ahmed Ben Salah, who held several different ministerial positions. Most important, he took a leading role in developing Bourguiba’s economic policy as the minister of planning and finance in the 1950s and 1960s. Backed by the UGTT, Bourguiba pursued a socialist developmental model that aimed to improve the wages and working conditions of Tunisia’s urban-based middle class. Indeed, the relationship between Bourguiba’s regime and the UGTT became so close that strikes were almost nonexistent during this period.79 In Morocco, by contrast, the labor movement mobilized after decolonization in 542 different strikes in March 1956, because the new regime had frozen public employees’ wages.80 Because of their strikes, public employees—who made up about 38 percent of Morocco’s labor movement—forced the regime to raise wages and also provide new nonmaterial benefits. Passed in 1962, Morocco’s first constitution introduced a series of prounion policies, including labor complaint courts, child-labor bans, and a national minimum wage.81 Following the colonial period and national independence, what was clear was that unions were not fully independent but were frequently dependent on political parties. In Tunisia the union allied with the regime’s dominant political party, whereas in Morocco and Mauritania, the unions affiliated with opposition parties. However, in all three countries, unions developed a practice of collaboration with parties to advance reforms and elicit concessions that benefited their social bases. Tunisia: No Space for Left-Islamist Alliances in Labor Politics From the birth of Tunisia’s regime, in the era of Bourguiba, the UGTT has had a complicated and conflicted relationship with the state, what Christopher Alexander characterizes as oscillation between “accommodation and confrontation.” In general, however, Tunisia’s regime sought to make the UGTT a key supporter. To sustain its loyalty, the regime granted benefits to the UGTT’s predominantly urban membership based in the Tunis area. And, in large part, this strategy was successful: the UGTT’s top leadership—with a few notable exceptions—worked with Bourguiba (and later Ben Ali). Because Tunisia’s regime worked to reward the UGTT with better wages for its unionized membership through macroeconomic growth,

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the two developed a close relationship. This close relationship between Tunisia’s regime and the union, however, resulted in “social lethargy” in the latter’s leadership.82 This point does not mean that the UGTT was completely docile. There were instances when Tunisia’s union was assertive, liberating itself from regime control, though these efforts never opened opportunities for leftIslamist alliances. However, the fact that some members of the UGTT’s rank and file occasionally sought to break the influence of Tunisia’s regime over the union does not mean that it was autonomous enough to became a potential organizing ground of leftists and Islamists. Thus, Tunisia’s labor contestation organized under the UGTT union never became a domain of politics where leftists and Islamists could gain a foothold to build alliances to oppose the regime. In the 1970s, an exceptional period of strained relations developed between the Tunisian regime and its labor union. During a five-year development plan, Bourguiba reversed some of his earlier economic policies and implemented austerity measures that cut workers’ wages and eliminated civil service positions. Under the guidance of UGTT president Habib Achour, the union distanced itself from the regime. Protesting Bourguiba’s economic policy changes, UGTT members launched both planned and wildcat strikes in various economic sites that included textile mills, metal processing factories, and the public ministries. In 1978 the situation climaxed in the Black Thursday massacre of January 26. In this massacre, Tunisia police and supporters of Bourguiba’s party killed 150 unionists after they had participated in a general strike on behalf of an arrested UGTT leader. Subsequently, the regime arrested UGTT president Achour, imprisoning him on conspiracy charges.83 After purging oppositionists from the UGTT’s ranks, the regime patched up relations with organized labor by the 1980s. Indeed, for the 1981 parliamentary election, the UGTT developed a joint slate of candidates with Tunisia’s regime party. Twenty-seven members of the UGTT were elected to Tunisia’s Chamber of Deputies with the regime party’s political affiliation. Two factors helped the regime reassert its authority over the union. First, the regime enacted economic policies to appease unionists and maintain labor’s loyalty. Even after Ben Ali replaced Bourguiba, these

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policies continued: wages for unionized employees in Tunisia were 40 percent higher than earnings for nonunionized ones. Second, the regime and the UGTT drew on similar social constituencies. Tunisia’s regime was built on an urban educated middle class, and so was the union: though 32 percent of Tunisian workers were in agriculture, only 2 percent of them were unionized through the UGTT.84 Both Tunisia’s authoritarian regime and the UGTT focused on securing and maintaining the loyalty of urban predominantly middle-class citizens. Because the regime and the UGTT worked together to enhance the status of this social base, opposition parties never made headway in making labor politics a domain wherein crossideological alliances could be built. Working with the UGTT, Tunisia’s regime captured this social base and foreclosed opportunities for leftIslamist coordination therein. Durable Left-Islamist Alliances in Labor Politics in Morocco and Mauritania In both Morocco and Mauritania, opposition parties have affiliated labor unions. These unions do not possess organizational independence. In Morocco the Islamists’ union is the National Union of Moroccan Labor (Union nationale du travail au Maroc [UNTM]). The leftists’ labor union is the Democratic Federation of Labor (Fédération démocratique du travail [FDT]). Both the UNTM and the FDT represent urban-residing constituencies who hail mainly from middle-class backgrounds. They focus on unionizing teachers, nurses, government clerks, and other public administration employees. These coalitions between leftists and Islamists in labor politics emerged following a threat and have endured over time, because their unions mobilized to work for reforms benefiting their similar urban middle-class social bases. Morocco: A Stable and Effective Left-Islamist Union Coalition As in the cases of left-Islamist alliances that emerged on the national level and in urban communes, a common threat motivated leftist and Islamist labor unions to form alliances in Morocco. Yet the fact that leftists and

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Islamists could use alliances within unions to push reforms benefiting their urban and predominantly middle-class social bases helped these coalitions endure over time. Specifically, the leftist and Islamist unions allied to mobilize on behalf of their public employee supporters, especially teachers. “Our union alliance was not built on ideology,” as vice president of Morocco’s Islamist union Abdelilah Dahmane remarked. “There were centrists, Islamists, and leftist; no ideological unity. But in a beautiful way, we overcame ideology so we could unite around demands of workers in education.”85 After agreeing to a wage deal in 2006 to increase public employees’ salaries, the regime retracted this agreement in 2007. The regime tasked implementation of this decision to a new prime minister, Abbas al-Fassi, who took power after the parliamentary elections. Not only did the regime’s decision to cancel the 2006 wage agreement threaten the unions by reducing their members’ salaries, but it also menaced them organizationally. By canceling the wage agreement, the regime threatened the unions’ organizational relevance and utility as representatives of laborers. If unions could not compel the regime to honor its wage commitments, then their members would perceive them as ineffective representatives and protectors of their interests. Employing Janine Clark’s theoretical framework, the regime’s cancellation of the wage agreement constituted a “policy threat” that preceded the left-Islamist alliance within the domain of labor politics.86 In response, the leftist- and Islamist-affiliated unions forged an alliance in 2007, termed syndical coordination (at-tansiiq an-niqaabii). Other unions without direct and clear links to parties also endorsed the left-Islamist labor alliance to protest the retracted 2006 wage agreement. In joint statements they released to the public, the left-Islamist union alliance demanded that the regime increase wages and retirement pensions for public employee unionists. The unions also asserted the need for reforms to the civil service’s promotion system. Backlogs had hindered public employees from promotions and their associated bonuses and pay increases. Such reforms would aid the union’s public employee membership, whose middle-class incomes suffered from cost-of-living increases (about 16 percent annually).87 Responding to the regime’s decision to annul

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the 2006 wage agreement, Morocco’s leftist and Islamist unions converged to form an alliance and agreed to strike and protest to force reforms. Amid Morocco’s economic crisis of 2008, which paralleled the global economic downturn, the regime offered to compensate with a more modest wage package in 2008, which would have increased public-sector salaries by 10 percent gradually by 2011.88 Mobilizing their alliance, the unions jointly rejected this proposed wage package. Neither the leftist nor the Islamist unionists considered its incremental, minor ameliorations sufficient to offset cost-of-living increases. By 2010 the leftist and Islamist unions had accelerated their alliance activities dramatically. Between January and August 2010, unions launched 8 percent more strikes across Morocco compared to the previous year. Strikes and stoppages hindered the functionality of a litany of different institutions, offices, and sectors where public employees worked, notably the communes, schools, hospitals, courts, and ministries. In total, more than 18,453 public employees affiliated with unions struck, which took place in 139 different public workplaces.89 One of the most influential union mobilizations took place in early November 2010, when nearly 85 percent of public employees declared a nationwide general strike for fortyeight hours.90 Months before the Arab uprisings erupted in Tunisia in late December 2010, Morocco’s leftist- and Islamist-affiliated unions had begun mobilizing their urban predominantly middle-class public employees to pressure the regime for reforms. Yet the regime refused the leftist and Islamist unions’ demands, rejecting reforms to increase public employees’ wages, pensions, and promotions. Its officials announced that the 2010–11 national budget would focus on infrastructure projects rather than ameliorating public employees’ salaries.91 The leftist and Islamist unions utilized their alliance to continue contestation in early 2011. Long before Morocco’s protests of the Arab uprisings began on February 20, its leftist and Islamist unions were mobilizing public employees to pressure the regime for reforms aligning with the interests of their social bases. In early January 2011, the unions organized a major seventy-two-hour strike that led to stoppages in most government offices. Overall, 80 percent92 of public employees struck, yet several specific

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provinces witnessed even higher strike adherence, ranging between 90 and 95 percent.93 This joint strike spearheaded by the leftist and Islamist unions ended on January 10, 2011, whereupon about a thousand unionists descended on the Ministry of Public Works’ Rabat headquarters. There, the protesting unionists read a statement and submitted a petition94 that ordered regime officials to enforce “previous agreements from negotiations” over wages, pensions, and promotions.95 Unbeknownst to many outside observers, the unions’ strikes of 2010 and early 2011 were reminiscent of prior incidents of instability, notably in the 1980s. Back then, union-led strikes drew in nonunion protesters, who enlarged the size and seriousness of mobilizations in cities. Many got out of control; they evolved into riots, destroying urban infrastructure, incapacitating public institutions, and provoking regime repression. William Zartman has termed this possibility the looming “anomic threat” in Moroccan union politics.96 Concerns surfaced that the strikes spearheaded by the leftist and Islamist unionists might escalate to similar forms of sporadic, uncontrollable urban instability. The Islamist union president Mohamed Yatim declared that the prime minister was “fully responsible” for causing the labor strikes, which opened the door for possible greater unrest. He asserted that al-Fassi (under regime instructions) had refused since 2008 “to steer the social dialogue” between the unions and the state “toward tangible benefits” for public employees.97 Fears of violence intensified following the outbreak of youth-led protests on February 20, 2011, occurring in Casablanca, Rabat, and more than fifty other cities. Both the leftist and the Islamist unions used their alliance to support the youth mobilizations, officially joining the protests on the February 20 and March 20 rounds of the demonstrations. Not only did the leftist and Islamist unionists join the youth-led protests to demand restoration of the 2006 wage agreement, but they also pressured for deeper reforms to the political economy. Specifically, they urged the regime to relinquish control over its business holdings, which dominated major economic sectors. Through owning a 60 percent stake of the country’s largest business conglomerate, the National Investment Company (Société nationale d’investissement), Morocco’s king controlled

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its strongest bank (AttijariWafa Bank), its biggest sugar producer (the Cosumar Group), its largest mining firm (the Managem Group), and its most robust yogurt and milk farm (Centrale Laitière). These firms were the crown jewels of the king’s business holdings, which enriched him to the extent that he became the world’s eleventh richest monarch in 2011.98 Between March 23 and March 31, the left-Islamist union alliance continued to launch strikes and demonstrations, occurring independently of the youth-led protests. The unions’ urban-based public employees (notably from the middle-class medical and education labor federations) launched the most contentious actions. The regime responded. Police violently beat doctors, nurses, and health-care staff with batons as they staged a sit-in demanding higher wages and promotions at the Ministry of Health. More than one thousand teachers marched on the Ministry of Education on March 26, which the leftist and Islamist unions promoted as the “the largest teachers’ protest in Moroccan history.”99 However, the regime broke up the protest violently, injuring 165 teachers seriously, whereupon 50 were hospitalized. One died from blunt-force trauma to the head. Thereafter, the leftist and Islamist unions criticized the regime’s brutality and the inequities suffered by its urban middle-class social base. Writing in the Islamist newspaper, one Islamist teacher unionist condemned the regime’s “flagrant abuses of human rights.” The unions, he asserted, need to “defend the dignity of the men and women of education.” The Islamist teacher unionists went on to criticize the wage status of public employees, questioning how a “public educator after 20 years of teaching experience can be continued to be paid 4,000 dirhams monthly (about $492.00),” whereas the “director of the public phosphate company can be given 250,000 dirhams ($30,766.00) per month.”100 Criticizing the regime’s violence, the leftist and Islamist teachers’ unions jointly organized and executed a nationwide forty-eight-hour strike in late March 2011. Feeling pressure, the regime—acting through the prime minister— ultimately consented to restart negotiations with the unions.101 Facing contestation from the left-Islamist labor alliance, the regime (as one journalist notes) wanted to secure “social peace at any price.”102 Many observers believed that the regime would concede to the unions’ demands to placate the syndical alliance and demobilize its unionists. But in fact, the

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regime was reticent to grant the unions’ desired reforms immediately and declared the opening of a “social dialogue” with labor that would occur in April 2011. Negotiations began between regime officials, the prime minister, the Islamist union (the UNTM), the leftist union (the FDT), and two other unions. In the first few meetings, regime officials refused to give in to the unions. They offered a modest proposal, raising the minimum wage of public employees beginning in July 2011 from 2,110 dirhams per month (about $260) by 500 dirhams ($62). Regime officials offered nothing to improve pensions and refused to expedite promotions.103 Initially, each union within the left-Islamist labor alliance developed its own independent list of reforms, yet ultimately the unions converged to draft a unified “portfolio of common demands” that they would force from the regime.104 The union alliance demanded an increase for the minimum wage of public employees from 600 or 700 dirhams monthly. Rather than beginning in July 2011, as the regime favored, they ordered it instituted retroactively to January 2011. Unlike the regime, which remained reticent to offer enhancements to the pension and promotion systems, the unions demanded that retirement stipends be raised from 600 to 1,000 dirhams monthly. They also pressured the regime to promote 33 percent of public employees immediately (and retroactively to January 2011), adjusting for bureaucratic lags that had delayed bonuses.105 The regime’s negotiators stalled during meetings in early April, refusing to give into the demands of the left-Islamist union alliance. To increase pressure on the regime’s officials, the Islamist union suddenly exited the meeting amid negotiations. By threatening to cease negotiations and return to strikes and protests, the Islamist union’s president hoped to expedite implementation of the unions’ reforms. Upon storming out of negotiations, the Islamist union president, Mohamed Yatim, demanded that the prime minister and regime furnish “tangible answers to core labor demands, and, principally, wage increases.”106 Likewise, the leftist union president asserted, “The government must give signals regarding wage increases and professional promotions to calm strikers.”107 Appearing collectively to speak with journalists, the presidents of the four unions asserted that the regime’s negotiators had not “come to the meeting with

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projects or proposals” to meet the syndicates’ requests. The regime had not developed clear changes or reforms to “answer to union demands.”108 Seeing that the left-Islamist labor alliance was dissatisfied with negotiations, and aware of the looming threat of renewed union-led strikes and protests, the regime offered a final package of reforms in late April 2011. It conceded to many union-desired reforms. By staying united in an enduring alliance that began in 2007 and continued until 2011, the left-Islamist union coalition forced reforms that appeased its urban and predominantly middle-class social base. The left-Islamist union alliance pressured the regime to acquiesce, raising wages, improving pensions, and enhancing the promotion system for public employees. The regime instructed the prime minister to approve the unions’ reforms for the pension system, increasing monthly stipend payments by 70 percent (that is, from 600 dirhams per month to 1,000 dirhams).109 Thirty-three percent of public employees would also be promoted immediately. Regarding wages, public employees received a large boost, with 600 dirhams more monthly added to the minimum public salary. In addition to these changes implemented to respond to the leftIslamist union alliance’s contestation, the regime also reformed itself more broadly in the political economy. Morocco’s ruler agreed to partially divest himself, liquidating some business assets. The regime agreed to sell 38 and 51 percent of its shares in Morocco’s largest dairy and biscuit producers110 and has courted a foreign investor to buy its bank shares.111 Beginning in 2007 and extending until 2011, Morocco’s left-Islamist alliance among unions behaved like Eva Bellin’s “contingent democrats,” prepared to contest the regime if reforms were not issued that benefited their urban social base. The ability to pursue—and ultimately realize— the interests of this social base helped to keep their alliance intact over time. Staying united through their alliance, the leftist and Islamist unions entered negotiations with the regime and refused to concede until they secured their desired reforms. Morocco’s regime failed to co-opt or divide the left-Islamist unions to shatter the alliance. As the Islamist union’s vice president Abdelilah Dahmane explained, they believed “in establishing a strong, united labor movement, but the unions differ in their points of views and opinions. So, we could never merge into one organization. Thus,

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of course, we seek coordination and alliances between ourselves, building upon the common set of demands” desired by all unions.112 Emphasizing the value of union alliances, president of the leftist union Abderrahmane Azzouzi averred, “When it comes to the interests of workers, coordination among unions is better than working alone.” Azzouzi continued, “As we see it, it’s not important for one union to claim: ‘I got this result from negotiations, or I was behind winning this result.’ If unions work together, there will be stronger pressure and it’s best for the demands of workers.”113 Although each union had its own distinct ideological preferences and leanings, which contradicted and did not converge, their desire to unite and pressure for reform overcame these issues that may have otherwise caused alliance collapse. Mauritania: Durable Coalitions between Left-Islamist Unions As in Morocco, labor politics in Mauritania provided propitious conditions for alliances between leftists and Islamists. In Mauritania, the leftists’ union is the General Confederation of Mauritanian Laborers (Confédération générale des travailleurs de Mauritanie [CGTM]). The Islamists, meanwhile, sponsor the National Confederation of Mauritanian Laborers (Confédération nationale des travailleurs de Mauritanie [CNTM]). As in the case of Moroccan unions, a left-Islamist alliance in Mauritanian organized labor appeared following the same threat: a cancellation of a wage agreement. As in Morocco, the alliance endured over twelve months because the unions utilized it to mobilize for reforms benefiting their similar urban and largely middle-class supporters. By mobilizing their alliance for reforms for this urban social base, the leftist and Islamist syndicates built an enduring opposition pact. Further, with this type of social base, the unions could successfully resist the co-optation tactics of autocrat Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz. The Islamists’ union, the CNTM, and the leftists’ union, the CGTM, recruit from similar economic sections and tap the same urban social base. Both unions (and especially the Islamists) have a large auxiliary teachers federation and public employees federation. Public employees concentrate in the country’s federal ministries in Nouakchott. The leftist- and

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Islamist-affiliated labor syndicates unionize urban professionals of largely middle-class origins. The two unions are also known to be integrated organizations: their social bases include supporters from Mauritania’s three main ethnic groups—Arabs, black Arabs, and Afro-Mauritanians. Unlike other political organizations in Mauritania, the leftist and Islamist syndicates do not prioritize unionizing workers of a specific ethnicity. In sum, both unions draw on an urban social base of high- and mediumskilled workers from diverse ethnic backgrounds. In 2004 the CNTM and CGTM negotiated with autocrat Taya’s regime to secure higher wages. In January 2005, Taya agreed to the unions’ demands and increased the country’s minimum wage to 21,000 ouguiya ($72) per month. The peace with labor did not last long, however. When the military generals overthrew Taya in 2005, they declined to honor the deposed autocrat’s wage agreement with the unions. Vall, in particular, rejected the unions’ demand that he, as transitional president, uphold the former autocrat Taya’s wage promises. As in the case of Moroccan unions, this refusal created a threat to the Mauritanian unions. By nullifying union-negotiated wage deals, the regime threatened the syndicates’ credibility and utility as representatives of laborers. In reaction, the leftist and Islamist unions agreed to ally and issued two new joint statements— known as “petitions of common demands”—in 2007 and 2008 that called for improved wages and working conditions. These joint petitions’ signatories included not only the leftist and Islamist syndicates but also a third labor union, the Free Confederation of Mauritanian Laborers (Confédération libre des travailleurs de Mauritanie [CLTM]). This syndicate, affiliated with an ethnic-based party, focused on unionizing impoverished black Arab workers in low-skilled economic sectors. The majority of the union’s members were farmhands in agriculture in rural areas. Other unionized black Arabs worked in other low-skilled jobs, such as fishing, building construction, and road building. Unlike the CNTM and the CGTM, this union had primarily a rural social base. Still allied and advocating for reinstatement of the 2005 wage agreement, the leftist and Islamist union welcomed the CLTM into their union coalition. When Mohamed Ould Abel Aziz took power in 2008, the three unions mobilized against the military coup. Their affiliated political parties

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enlisted their support, bringing them into the National Front for the Defense of Democracy. With the political parties, the three unions participated in a series of protests, marches, and public rallies to resist the new military dictatorship. However, as Abdel Aziz’s rule consolidated by 2009, the three unions refocused on securing reforms to wages that would align with the interests of their social bases. In late 2010, the unions came together and reissued their petition of common demands. Given regional pressure emerging from the Arab uprisings, the regime agreed to open negotiations concerning wages in April 2011. The leftist and Islamist unions refused to join the talks because the regime sought to engineer the negotiations in its favor. To stack the deck, the regime insisted on including several small weak unions in the wage negotiations that it could coerce into accepting its preferred terms. By incorporating many small unions into the wage talks, the regime could pressure them to outvote the labor negotiators representing the leftist and Islamist unions. Given these unfair and lopsided conditions, the leftist and Islamist unions rejected the offer to enter wage negotiations. Rather, as youth-led protests began in Mauritania in spring 2011, the leftist and Islamist unions supported these protests and urged their supporters into the streets. Indeed, as the leftist union’s president exclaimed, “The young are mobilizing in Mauritania, too, and the unions are at their side, fighting for change.”114 However, defecting from its alliance with the leftist and Islamist unions, the black Arab union—the CLTM—chose to enter negotiations with the regime. After completing negotiations, the CLTM secured a minimum wage increase from 21,000 ($72) to 30,000 ouguiya ($103) per month for all Mauritanian workers. This increase in wages applied to both urban workers and agricultural workers in rural areas. To benefit its social base of low-skilled black Arab workers, the CLTM also secured sector-specific wage increases in agriculture, building construction, public infrastructure work, mining, commerce, banking, and general mechanics. With the exception of commerce and banking, black Arabs work in these industries disproportionately. Samoury Ould Beye, the CLTM union president, explained his rationale for accepting the wage settlement. “This is a union for black Arabs; Mauritania’s working class,” he asserted. “We

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work to secure their interests.”115 Through promising wage increases for the CLTM, Abdel Aziz had effectively peeled it away from an alliance with the leftist and Islamist unions. In effect, it had weakened the union alliance by offering the CLTM wage increases for its rural social base of lowskilled workers. By November 2011, Beye had begun to regret bringing the CLTM into negotiations with the regime and defecting from the left-Islamist alliance. Abdel Aziz did not enforce the salary augmentations guaranteed by the April 2011 wage agreement. Beye issued an open letter to Abdel Aziz, asking him to enforce the negotiation’s terms. Although the three-way union coalition between the CGTM, CNTM, and CLTM weakened when Beye agreed to negotiate with Abdel Aziz’s regime, the alliance between the leftist and Islamist syndicates endured throughout this period. They continued to use their alliance to contest the regime and pressure for reforms to benefit their urban predominantly middle-class social bases. Even when Beye had been pulled away from the three-way union alliance, the leftist and Islamist unionists stayed united in opposition to negotiating with Abdel Aziz’s regime over labor conditions and wage policies. In combining both a threat and a common social base among urban and middleclass workers, these unionists established a durable alliance. Conclusion As in the cases of national-level alliances, a common threat triggered cooperation between leftists and Islamists in urban communes and labor unions. Yet alliances endured in these contexts because they helped secure reforms benefiting the opposition parties’ similar urban middle-class social bases. When both the leftists and the Islamists in Morocco and Mauritania retained constituencies outside rural clientelist politics, they built coalitions that could resist authoritarian regimes’ co-optation strategies more effectively. In cities and unions, the opposition parties turned down short-term gains to secure meaningful reforms by way of durable, long-term opposition alliances. This fact indicates that city and union politics—relatively

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understudied areas of oppositional politics—could, one day, provide a staging ground for broader contestation and reform. Indeed, by using their joint coordination to pursue and actualize reforms preferred by their similar social bases, leftists and Islamists were able to sustain enduring, successful opposition coordination.

6 Resurrecting Alliances? Left-Islamist Coalitions in the Arab Uprisings and Aftermath

Previous chapters traced the long-term, gradual evolution of leftist and Islamist parties, showing how their national-level alliances in the late 2000s became far more durable in Tunisia than in either Morocco or Mauritania, where they formed but failed. Next these trends are analyzed in the 2010s, when they manifested during the Arab uprisings and the aftermath. These events created periods of momentous change during which developments in the internal evolution of the opposition parties came to a head. During and immediately after the Arab uprisings, Tunisia’s opposition parties followed a particular track, which led to their alliance’s continued endurance until 2014. Indeed, the Troika Alliance—which first emerged as the 18 October Alliance in 2005—provided a stable framework for left-Islamist cooperation in Tunisia until the approach of the 2014 elections. Although the nature of oppositional politics changed considerably before and after 2011 in Tunisia, its leftists and Islamists maintained their alliance during this period, even from 2006 to 2011 when a lull in opposition-party contestation emerged. Because the regime did not break this left-Islamist alliance, and the parties did not decide to dissolve it, this coalition provides an exemplar of continuous, sustained opposition coordination. Yet Morocco’s and Mauritania’s opposition parties followed an opposite path during the unrest of Arab uprisings and their immediate aftermath. Although some leftist and Islamist oppositionists tried to reinvigorate their alliances of the late 2000s, such efforts did not succeed. 159

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Initiatives to rekindle coalitions between Morocco and Mauritania’s leftists and Islamists failed to result in durable, long-term alliances capable of mobilizing for political reform and change. These interactions reconfirmed the instability and fragility of coalitions between these opposition parties in Morocco and Mauritania. Tunisia: The End of the Troika The alliance in national-level politics between Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists emerged in 2005 long before the collapse of Ben Ali’s regime and provided a source of stability during the Arab uprisings and immediately following the regime’s collapse in 2011. After the opposition parties’ victory in the free and fair 2011 constituent assembly elections, the 18 October Alliance evolved into what became known as the Troika—a tripartite coalition between Tunisia’s Ennahda Party and two leftist parties (Moncef Marzouki’s CPR and Mustapha Ben Jaafar’s Ettakatol). It governed Tunisia as a unity government. Following the 2011 elections, however, the Troika encountered a series of challenges in the postrevolutionary period. It faced several controversies that could have torn the left-Islamist alliance apart. Yet the left-Islamist alliance navigated and overcame them, enduring until 2014. By this time, a degree of political normalcy emerged in Tunisia, and the threat that Ben Ali’s allies might return had dissipated, reducing the original rationale for the Troika Alliance. In fact, the leftists and Islamists began to compete against each other in earnest as normal, integrated participants in the postrevolutionary order after it had transitioned to a democratic system. Between October 2011 and February 2013, several events occurred that caused conflict between the leftists and Islamists that constituted the Troika Alliance. The crises created controversy among the three opposition parties. In particular, they brought issues related to religion and secularism to the fore. But, importantly, these events did not ultimately cause the Troika’s collapse. Instead, it was the resumption of normal political competition between the parties that eventually ended the alliance. Having existed as a left-Islamist alliance since the 18 October Alliance emerged in 2005, the Troika came to an end by January 2014. New

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political competition erupted between leftists and Islamists over control of the state, which weakened and ultimately ended the Troika. The three parties maintained their alliance under a temporary Islamist prime minister until new elections could be held in October 2014. The three Troika parties came into conflict over anti-Islamic artwork and a controversial article in Tunisia’s new constitution. In June 2011, Salafi activists stormed an art exhibit in La Marsa, a suburb of Tunis. The Salafists destroyed the artwork, a courthouse, and a local police station, which led to the arrest of 162 rioters. The La Marsa riots were preceded by smaller skirmishes between Salafists and civil society activists regarding the screening of two controversial anti-Islamic films, Persepolis and No God, No Master. In response, Ennahda deputies introduced Article 3 into the Tunisia’s first draft constitution, which was released to the public in August 2012. Article 3 banned blasphemy and criminalized other religious offenses. The article stated, “The state guarantees freedom of religious belief and practice and criminalizes all attacks on that which is sacred.”1 Given these events, both the CPR and Ettakatol reevaluated whether they wanted to continue the Troika Alliance with Ennahda and its prime minister, Hamadi Jebali. To an extent, the Troika’s original purpose had expired. No longer, the leftists reasoned, did Ben Ali and his former regime apparatchiks pose a threat to return to power. In fact, the Troika parties began to view former elements of Ben Ali’s regime as potential partners in ensuring Tunisia’s transition succeeded. As Ennahda vice president, Abdel Hamid Jelassi, said, “Ennahda as an organization doesn’t have a need for the RCD’s political machine. But, in power, there is a Tunisian bureaucracy that used to work for the former RCD regime. We have two choices: erase everything from the past or use the Tunisian state apparatus to improve the new Tunisia. Ennahda believes that the latter is the better choice.”2 While Ben Ali and his allies posed a palpable threat in the sensitive period immediately following the 2011 regime collapse, this threat had dissipated after the transition solidified. By December 2012, tensions culminated inside the Troika. The leftist parties alleged that Ennahda leadership endangered Tunisia’s secularism, especially in its running of the ministries. Whereas the Ministry of

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Justice had safeguarded secularism previously, it no longer maintained a robust wall of separation between religion and state under the management of an Ennahda minister, Nouridine Bahiri. Moreover, the leftist parties alleged that Ennahda officials had engaged in corruption that interfered in judicial neutrality. To resolve these problems, the Troika’s leftist parties demanded that a leftist be made justice minister. Unless Ennahda redistributed the ministries and returned Justice to leftist control, the CPR asserted that it would withdraw from the Troika. As the CPR party president explained, “From the beginning, CPR negotiated for the Ministries of Interior and Justice. We wanted to be human rights guardians. At the end, we didn’t get these ministries. But, we said: if there are transgressions, we’ll quit the Troika.”3 Other Tunisian actors saw a different motivation for CPR’s threat to end the Troika. After the CPR split into two parties in April 2011, the leftist party weakened relative to Ennahda. Tunisia’s president, Moncef Marzouki of the CPR, wanted to strengthen his party in preparation for the upcoming elections in which it would compete against Ennahda. By criticizing Ennahda’s administration of the Ministry of Justice, he hoped to improve the CPR’s chances for electoral success. He would distance the CPR from Ennahda governance, thereby letting the Islamists bear the public outrage of controversial policies. As Abdel Hamid Jelassi asserted: “We don’t see our Troika partners as disciplined. We don’t see them out there in the trenches. I see them present propositions and then back away from them, leaving Ennahda to assume all political responsibility. But, as we say, this is the internal politics of the Troika.”4 Mohamed Baroudi, a leader in the Progressive Democratic Party, confirmed this view: “The country can’t handle these games of the CPR.”5 It was clear that the leftist parties had weakened the Troika as a political maneuver; they were jockeying to improve their positions to increase their chances to defeat Ennahda in the 2014 elections. By January 2013, the Troika had reached an impasse. The Troika’s work in the ministries and drafting the new constitution came to a halt. The situation became further complicated after the unexpected assassinations of two leftist figureheads from civil society, Choukri Belaid and Mohamed Brahmi. “The most dangerous period for Tunisia,” as Moncef

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Marzouki explained, “was after the assassination of Brahmi. This was three weeks after the 2013 Egyptian coup. We were afraid the same scenario would unfold in Tunisia, and I could imagine it coming in my mind. Some people left over from the former regime—what we call the deep state—would use it as an excuse [to stage a coup], and would have ended in counter-revolution. But, in the end, they did not succeed and Tunisia did succeed.”6 To overcome the stalemate between the Troika parties, and deal with instability following the assassinations, Prime Minister Hamadi Jebali made a bold move. He announced that he intended to dissolve the Troika government, replacing political appointee ministers from the leftist and Islamist parties with neutral technocrats. This technocratic government without the left-Islamist alliance aimed to administer the Tunisian state until new presidential and parliamentary elections could be held. To ensure a level playing field for all parties during the electoral campaign, the technocratic ministers could neither compete in the elections nor receive a ministerial portfolio in the next administration. An interim technocratic cabinet, Jebali contended, would permit the “parties to return to elections and competition” in order to restore public confidence in the elected government.7 Further, if he was not successful in forming a technocratic government, Jebali pledged to resign. By February 2013 all of the Troika parties, including both its Islamists and its leftists, resisted Jebali’s proposal. Ettakatol and the CPR questioned whether the Islamist prime minister had the authority to dissolve a government elected by popular vote. Tunisian law did not grant him that power, they argued. The Ennahda Party feared losing its influence over the ministries and how this could disadvantage them in the upcoming elections. To signal their displeasure with Jebali and his proposed technocratic government, CPR threatened to withdraw from the Troika. Days later, Ettakatol menaced the same action. It appeared the former allies might part ways, collapsing the Troika Alliance. The Troika parties began to compete for power and control over ministries, especially the Justice Ministry, where Ennahda had asserted its authority following the 2011 elections. But to salvage the Troika, Jebali resigned from his post and appealed to Islamist leader, Rachid Ghannouchi, to intervene to preserve the coalition. In a

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series of meetings with CPR and Ettakatol leaders, Ghannouchi and the Troika parties agreed on a plan to reshuffle ministerial appointments and to select a consensus candidate, Islamist Ali Larayedah, as prime minister. By redistributing the ministerial appointments, this tenuous agreement preserved the coalition between Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists until its final cessation in early 2014, shortly before the parliamentary elections. A technocratic government was formed for a short period afterward to organize elections before they occurred in October 2014. When asked about why Tunisia’s Troika between leftists and Islamists ultimately collapsed by 2014, Marzouki responded, “Don’t get stuck on the word ‘collapse’ to describe the end of the Troika. It never really collapsed. We stayed in active cooperation with Ennahda and Ettakatol until the last day, right before the formation of the technocratic government. Stability was the most important thing to democracy, seeing what was going on in Syria, Libya, and Egypt (especially after the 2013 coup). These were the unique specificities of Tunisia that we wanted consensus” between leftists and Islamists for stability. Ultimately, he noted, formation of “the technocratic government allowed Tunisia to move very quickly and easily to elections, so the voters would see that the process was fair. Without the Troika parties organizing elections (while remaining in government), the electoral process would be seen as more free and fair, not like under elections in the old dictatorship.”8 Forged in 2005, in response to a new threat created by Ben Ali’s regime, the Troika Alliance—previously the 18 October Alliance—ended by early 2014. Since the Troika parties needed neither to ally to resist the repression of Ben Ali’s regime, as they had in the mid-2000s, nor to unite to keep his former apparatchiks at bay as during instability, the rationale for their alliance had disappeared. In 2011 and 2013, threats remained salient that figures from Ben Ali’s deposed regime would use the instability of his ouster or Egypt’s July 2013 coup d’état against democratically elected Islamist Mohamed Morsi, respectively, as pretexts to retake power. However, by early 2014, such concerns had attenuated. Few Tunisians thought realistically that Ben Ali’s former allies could forcibly retake power from the postrevolutionary government. By this time, the threats that had motivated and sustained the Troika Alliance had declined

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dramatically. The situation in Tunisia became qualitatively different and more stable than in either 2011 or, later, in July 2013. In part, the success of Tunisia’s National Dialogue Quartet among civil society actors reinforced, enhanced, and deepened this nascent stability. No doubt, figures from Tunisia’s old regime establishment remain active in Tunisia politics. The formation of the Nidaa Tounes party evidences this fact. Yet few Tunisians concluded that such politicians’ activism represented genuine threats that their country’s new democratic order might be overturned or relapse to authoritarianism.9 Indeed, Tunisia’s stability in 2014 seemed to convey greater permanence than in either 2011 or, later, in July 2013. Thus, the Troika Alliance’s end in Tunisia came not from opposition parties’ fear of each other or commitment problems after regime collapse, as Jennifer Gandhi might suggest, but rather derived from their desire to defeat each other in fair, competitive elections that had become a normal, ingrained feature of political life. Indeed, it became incumbent upon the Troika parties to improve their positions—politically and electorally—visà-vis each other in the lead-up to the October 2014 elections. Because the threat from Ben Ali’s regime had dissipated, political competition developed earnestly between Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists. Some might disagree with this interpretation of the Troika’s end, contending that the first and foremost reason Tunisia’s Islamists and leftists dissolved their alliance derived from the leftist parties’ weak electoral results in the October 2014 elections. Yet the decision to dissolve the Troika occurred in January 2014, preceding the October 2014 elections. So, at that point, none of the Troika parties definitively knew what the leftists’ electoral results would be in the future elections. However, the CPR’s and Ettakatol’s weak results certainly foreclosed the opportunity to revitalize the Troika Alliance thereafter. These weak results of the leftist parties combined with reduced fears of Ben Ali’s former apparatchiks made Nidaa Tounes a possible coalition partner for the Islamists after the October 2014 elections. As Tunisia’s transition to democracy stabilized, and its success became more established by early 2014, the Troika parties evolved from allies into natural competitors. As Tunisia passed into a state of normalcy, in which the threats from the former regime declined and genuine democratic

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competition increased, the Troika parties relinquished their alliance and strove to enhance their respective electoral prospects. While the permanence of democracy in Tunisia (or any transitional democracy) is never a foregone conclusion, and the country continues to face numerous obstacles, it seems clear that the alliance between its leftists and Islamists from 2005 and 2014 aided this process providing an anchor of stability and exemplar of compromise. Unlike in Morocco and Mauritania, where alliances failed owing to regimes’ co-optation, Tunisia’s alliance endured throughout both the era of authoritarian rule and the period of postregime transition until the opposition parties chose willingly to relinquish their coalition. Morocco: Failure to Revitalize Left-Islamist Alliances Morocco and Mauritania experienced unrest from the Arab uprisings. By February 2011, protests started in both countries. By March 2011, fiftyfour Moroccan cities experienced protests organized by what became known as the February 20th Movement. While Morocco’s protests were less destructive than the ones of other Arab states, they did inflict costs on the regime. In the northern cities of Larache, Tangier, and al-Hoceima, February 20 protests left 5 dead and 128 injured. The riots also destroyed thirty-three public buildings, seventy-four commercial properties, and sixty-six vehicles.10 In the phosphate mining city of Safi, protests in July of youth and miners caused two deaths and millions in damage. One local reporter artfully described the aftermath as “a Lebanese house the day after an Israeli air raid.”11 Given their divergent levels of co-optation, Morocco’s leftists and Islamists responded differently to this unrest. Whereas many of Morocco’s Islamists participated in the protests, its leftists did not. To shield his party from potential repression, Islamist party president Abdelilah Benkirane declined to back participation in the protests officially. Yet most leaders of his party did protest in demonstrations organized for February 20 and March 20. These leaders included luminaries Mostafa Ramid, Habib Choubani, Abdelaziz Aftati, and Abdelali Hamieddine. Even Saadeddine Othmani, the PJD’s popular and well-respected former party president,

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joined the mobilizations. Issuing a statement endorsing the protests, the Islamist party’s youth wing entered the demonstrations and “called upon its sympathizers to go into the streets.”12 Expressing support for the protesters, Islamist leader Mostafa Ramid warned that “if we don’t adopt a parliamentary monarchy we will be buried underneath republicans,” who desire dissolution of the monarchy altogether.13 Other Islamists, such as Lahcen Daoudi, saw street protests as beneficial because they ratcheted up pressure from outside formal politics to expedite reform inside formal politics.14 In the coming weeks, the Islamist party secured concessions from the regime by subtly threatening to increase its support for the protests.15 Concessions included retaining the constitution’s religious provisions and freeing a PJD political prisoner, Jama’a al-Moutassim. Although the Islamist party eventually ceased its participation in protests by July 2011 after eliciting concessions from the regime, it had flexed its muscles to show its capacity to drive reform.16 By contrast, Morocco’s leftist party distanced itself from the protests. Its reaction was lukewarm. Before a congress of leftists in 2011, Abdelwahad Radi—the party’s eighty-year-old president—declared: “This is a historic moment for Morocco, and holds importance for all Moroccans. But, it has special meaning for our party, the USFP. The Moroccan people are about to achieve what the USFP has been supporting for 50 years.”17 Yet Radi’s actions contradicted his statements; they revealed how much the leftist party had evolved into a stagnant, co-opted party unwilling to assert itself for reform or democratization. Radi promulgated a directive banning all leftists from demonstrating in the protests. Specifically, he targeted the leftist party’s auxiliary youth organization. He released a statement announcing the ban the evening before the protests, using the auxiliary youth organization’s letterhead without gaining its permission. The leftist youths alleged that Radi had “circumvented their organization’s elected administration,” which had chosen “to contribute to the popular protests.”18 Subsequently, the leftist youths launched an internal coup against Radi. The leftist youths organized an (unsuccessful) vote to remove Radi and dissolve the party’s entire secretariat general. They announced that they were “angry” at the leftist leadership for not endorsing the February 20th Movement’s protests. The chief of the leftist youth

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averred that leftist leadership “no longer represents large segments of the party” that want greater reform and democratization.19 To quell unrest from the Arab uprisings, Morocco’s regime made a series of limited concessions. They included a new constitution, which enhanced the prime minister’s powers and required he be selected from the party that received the best electoral results. Also, the regime created a national electoral list for youth, reserving 30 seats in the 395-seat parliament for candidates under forty. By the fall of 2011, Fouad Ali al-Himma— the king’s longtime friend and closest adviser—had faced so much public pressure that he felt compelled to resign as the PAM president, releasing a public letter to the loyalist party’s supporters. In it, he declared, “I’m informing you all that I am now out of the party. I’ll definitively never again enter into its affairs.”20 Finally, the regime agreed to move up the parliamentary elections scheduled for 2012 to November 2011. Sensing that the power of al-Himma and the PAM had declined dramatically, the Islamists went on the offensive. “We will be able to put an end to the anxieties that eat away at our country,” Islamist party president Abdelilah Benkirane announced. “Real pluralism will be instituted,” he continued, “and nuisances like the PAM will be finished.”21 Likewise, Lahcen Daoudi stated, “The PJD is sure the PAM will not win the next elections. Even if the Interior Ministry wants to push the PAM to victory by force, it will create a political crisis. We will all become February 20th protesters.”22 As protests erupted across Morocco in the spring of 2011, the Islamists sought to improve their position vis-à-vis the PAM as elections approached. In the 2011 parliamentary elections, the Islamists rode the discontent of the Arab uprisings to electoral success. The Islamists received 107 seats, gaining 60 more deputies than they had captured in the 2007 parliamentary elections. Like their counterparts in Egypt and Tunisia, Morocco’s Islamists won the elections and came in first place. Morocco’s leftists landed in fifth place, worse than in 2007. Surprisingly, the regime’s loyalist parties also did well in the 2011 elections. The RNI came in third place, gaining 14 additional deputies compared to 2007. Although the uprisings had forced al-Himma to leave party politics, his PAM did well. It came in fourth place and received 47 seats. Together, the four major loyalist parties

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had 154 deputies. With four smaller parties, the four major loyalist parties formed the G-8 alliance, which acted as a “war coalition” to contain rising Islamist power.23 This coalition aiming to counter the Islamists resembled the 1993 National Accord (al-withaaq al-waTanii), a pact among ruralbased proregime parties that had capped leftist power.24 Many of the loyalist parties of the G-8 had also been members of the National Accord, allying to dilute the power of opposition parties (whether against the Islamists in the 2010s or the leftists in the 1990s). Although the Islamists were victorious, they did not win enough seats to govern alone. Abdelilah Benkirane’s Islamists needed coalition partners to form a government. The Islamist party’s president searched for parties who would join his ruling majority government. But Benkirane opposed cooperating with the loyalist parties of the G-8, dismissing those parties as regime creations.25 Only hours after the 2011 election results had been announced, Benkirane visited the leftist party’s headquarters to appeal to its leaders. Benkirane wanted to resurrect their 2009 left-Islamist alliance (that is, the National Front for Democracy) to serve as a ruling majority to govern Morocco. Reflecting on his desire to invite the leftists into his ruling majority government, Benkirane recalled, “I don’t hold a political debt against the leftists. I took into account that those leftist people are different from us ideologically. But they work for the interest of the country, according to their own logic. It’s better than those who want to eat the country.” He continued: “An alliance based on seriousness in work is more important than agreement in ideologies. The culture of opportunism is rampant. It is the problem that obstructs success.”26 To revitalize the 2009 left-Islamist alliance, Benkirane aimed to convince younger leftist leaders to support the coalition. As one journalist noted, Benkirane’s invitation to revitalize the left-Islamist alliance piqued the interest of “a new generation of leftist leaders in the USFP’s house.” One leftist leader who had endorsed the 2009 alliance with the Islamists, Hassan Tarek, encouraged the party to join Benkirane’s ruling majority government. “Because of the confrontation with the regime parties of the G-8 alliance of loyalist parties,” he explained, “the national interest calls for an alliance between the PJD, the leftists, and other opposition

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parties.”27 This rapprochement that occurred between younger leftists and Islamist leaders in Morocco paralleled similar trends that had occurred across generations of activists in Egypt, as Dina Shehata records.28 However, Hassan Tarek met with stiff resistance from other leftist leaders, especially Driss Lachgar. The latter carried support among the party’s traditional politicians, who had power derived from rural areas. When Benkirane offered the proposal to revitalize an alliance with the leftists, Lachgar denied that he had ever championed the 2009 left-Islamist coalition. Responding when a journalist raised the topic, he said, “Why do you mention my call for an alliance with the Islamists and my defense of it? I don’t understand the reason. Let’s not forget our parties have different ideologies and policy programs; this is clear.”29 While Lachgar emphasized that divergence over ideologies, values, and policies had crippled a coalition between leftists and Islamists, most recalled that his 2009 alliance had—in reality—collapsed from regime co-optation, not ideological discord. In the end, Morocco’s Islamists could not revitalize their 2009 alliance with the leftists after the 2011 elections. After fourteen years in various governments, the leftists decided to reenter the opposition. Over time in the 2000s, the party’s social base came to rely more heavily on traditional politicians controlling rural, clientelist hierarchies. Although the leftists chose not join the Islamist-led government, they pledged not to cooperate with the regime’s loyalist parties, who were now in the parliamentary opposition against the Islamists. As former leftist finance minister and USFP vice president Fathallah Oualalou asserted, “The USFP will distance itself from the PAM and RNI. In this world there are oppositions, not one opposition. The USFP will continue its honest and unwavering opposition until it recovers its link with the people.”30 Other leftists supported Oualalou, stressing the need to “rebuild the party” to win back its historic support among urban middle-class constituencies.31 Reeling from their weak results in the 2011 elections, the leftists called a national congress for December 2012. Not only did the leftists want to replace party president Radi, who had overseen a weak electoral campaign, but they also needed to reform the party internally. It needed to recover its oppositional edge. A race began for the party’s new president,

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and Vice President Fathallah Oualalou took the early lead. As the acting mayor of Rabat, Oualalou represented urban middle-class members who remained within the party. Three other candidates opposed him, notably Driss Lachgar. Factions opened within the party. The leftist party’s historic leaders based in urban areas backed Oualalou, whereas the party’s traditional politicians with power in rural areas supported Lachgar. Lachgar’s supporters within the leftist party were a motley crew. They included Abdelwahad Radi, the former secretary-general. Although Radi had started out as a committed student activist in 1960s, he had by the 2000s become less dedicated to promoting socialism and more concerned with protecting his family’s interests. He hailed from the village of Kceibya, where he had been mayor for decades and where his notable family owned approximately 70 percent of local land. He and his brother, Idriss, who was president of one loyalist party (the Constitutionalist Union), worked to defend their family’s interests and shift more resources to the region’s peasants who farmed their land. Other familiar faces from this book that endorsed Lachgar’s candidacy for leftist party president included the traditional politicians Hassan Derhem, a Saharan tribal leader, and Driss Chtaibi, Mohamed Boughlem’s rival in Ighzrane. Finally, Lachgar received support from several rural politicians from Northern Morocco, whose wealth had unclear origins. It was suspected they garnered money through direct or indirect connections with widespread hashish cultivation in this region.32 Lachgar defeated Oualalou and became president. Rumors circulated that the regime had pushed his candidacy. The day after his election, one reporter noted “an external intervention that constituted a strong pressure on the congress’ attendees to vote in one direction, but no one would reveal who was the source of this intervention.”33 Lachgar’s rise to power discontented the leftist party’s historic urban leaders. On losing the race for president, Oualalou froze his party membership and criticized its internal “process of ruralization.”34 In May 2012, many of these leftists formed a committee and met with Lachgar to advocate internal reform. Lachgar rejected their demands; he began practicing “top-down” and “monopolizing” decision making. In selecting leftist candidates for elections, Lachgar unilaterally chose politicians—often well-known traditional rural notables—without consulting the leadership

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of the party’s local branches. He also did away with several of the leftist party’s core traditions. “Since the 1975 assassination of Omar Benjelloun,” as one leftist leader explained, “the USFP leadership made an annual visit to his grave in memoriam. After Lachgar became president in 2012, that stopped. It was the first time in 40 years. The party had forgotten its origins.”35 By 2015 tensions climaxed within the leftist party. Most of the historic urban-based leaders of the leftist party, those individuals who had cut their teeth in conflicts with the regime in the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s had resigned. They established a new party, the Democratic Alternative (Alternative démocratique). Their new party would take up the mantle of oppositional socialism. Assuming the presidency of the new party was the leftist mayor of Agadir, Tariq Kabbage, who had successfully built a durable, long-term alliance with Islamists to clean up and reform his city’s politics. Explaining why he resigned from the leftist party, Kabbage declared that “Driss Lachgar behaves like the chieftain of a tribal clan.”36 After rebuffing the Islamists’ invitation to reinvigorate their alliance following the 2011 elections, Morocco’s leftist party had split into two. As one USFP National Congress member described the situation, whereas Lachgar seized control of the leftist party supported by “notables with material and traditional influence from rural areas,” a second party emerged constituted from the “cadre of urban, educated activists driven by ideology.”37 The rise of Lachgar evidenced how Morocco’s leftist party had fully completed its evolution from an urban opposition party to a rural loyalist one. Having had their invitation rejected to reinvigorate the left-Islamist alliance, Morocco’s Islamists were compelled to cooperate with other parties to create a ruling majority government. Initially, Benkirane built a government with two centrist parties and one loyalist party that had supported the G-8 anti-Islamist pact, the Popular Movement. This move weakened the Islamists’ capacity to implement reform and helped the regime keep their influence limited. Yet the Islamists strength further deteriorated by October 2013, when Benkirane’s first ruling majority government collapsed. Although the Islamists had earned points with citizens by exposing corrupt dealings in 4,118 public licenses for fishing, transportation, and other activities, known as les agréments, they failed in

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other policy areas.38 Primarily, Benkirane’s ruling majority collapsed from mismanagement of economic affairs. To maintain control over his ruling majority, Benkirane had to form a new government that incorporated another loyalist party—the RNI. Much like the PAM, palace insiders had founded the RNI in the 1970s, and it had built strong ties among traditional politicians relying on clientelist networks. By adding the RNI to its governing majority, the Islamists’ influence further reduced. This act further empowered the regime to keep the Islamists constrained now that they had entered government. The Islamists relinquished several key ministries to the RNI. The Islamists also lost another symbolically important post, the Speaker of the House, which moved into the hands of an RNI deputy. In both the ministries and parliament, politicians affiliated with this loyalist party either dragged their feet or openly obstructed the Islamists’ proposed reforms. Acting alone, the Islamists could spearhead few reforms. They were blocked by requirements to incorporate ministers from loyalist parties into their ruling majority government. Loyalist parties capped Islamists’ influence in not only formal institutions but also outside of them in street politics. The PAM led this effort. In Fès, it organized protests to commemorate the twenty-year death of a student activist, Mohamed Benaissa Ait el-Jid, who died in campus clashes with Islamists. PAM leaders, notably Ilyas el-Omari, accused the PJD of causing the student’s death. He drew parallels with two recently assassinated Tunisian activists, who died at the hands of Islamist extremists. By the summer of 2013, these protests escalated when the PAM led the founding of a protest movement, Tamarod Maroc. Modeled on Egypt’s Tamarod movement, which exerted street pressure against Islamist president Mohammed Morsi, Tamarod Maroc organized demonstrations to try to topple Benkirane’s government. That the PAM led these protests suggested that the regime endorsed this strategy to weaken the Islamists. Besides these activities that limited the PJD’s influence, the regime also constrained Benkirane’s ability to drive change as prime minister by setting up a “shadow government” of unelected advisers. Key to this shadow government was Fouad Ali al-Himma. Though no longer the PAM party president, Himma had quietly returned to his original post within the

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palace walls as the king’s special political adviser. Benkirane complained that Himma and this shadow government circumvented his authority as prime minister.39 As he said, “Personally, I never built cooperative relations with the royal advisors, who came only to build and impose boundaries. That’s how I came to understand my boundaries.”40 What became clear is that Morocco’s Islamists had won the post–Arab uprisings elections of 2011, yet the regime limited what reforms they could realistically implement. The regime and its loyalist parties curtailed the Islamists’ capacity to spearhead reform, even though they had a voter-approved mandate. Given the regime-imposed limitations they faced, the Islamists did not generally suffer at the ballot boxes in subsequent elections, in 2015 and 2016. Even though the popularity of Islamist parties had slumped regionally, and especially in Egypt, voters continued to give Morocco’s Islamists strong support. There was a sense that voters understood that the regime and its loyalist parties had curbed the Islamists’ power, blocking them from implementing reforms. Indeed, in the 2015 communal elections, the Islamists mobilized their urban social base to win communes, placing mayors in control of 15 of Morocco’s largest, most important cities (including Casablanca, Tangier, and Rabat). An Islamist replaced leftist Tariq Kabbage as mayor of Agadir, a socialist stronghold that the leftists had controlled for decades. Now a member of the Democratic Alternative party that sought to replace Lachgar’s leftist party, Kabbage blamed his electoral loss on an influx of illiterate voters who had recently moved into Agadir and supported the old leftist party.41 These results signaled that, despite entering government, Morocco’s Islamists had not lost their historic urban social base. Equally, the results reconfirmed that the leftist party continued to lose support in urban areas and deepened its following among rural populations intermeshed in clientelism. These trends in high voter confidence in Benkirane’s Islamists continued into the next elections, in 2016. The PJD secured the highest number of parliamentary deputy seats, 125 of 395 total, and came in first place compared with the other parties. The Islamists won 18 more seats than they garnered in 2011, receiving a strong mandate from Moroccan voters to continue to push for reforms. The Islamists continued to win most of their seats in larger cities, but, notably different from past electoral cycles,

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they also launched a “special rural campaign.”42 This outreach strategy aimed to attract rural voters. Although this campaign in rural areas failed for the Islamists in the 2016 elections, it evidenced a desire among some Islamist leaders to engage voters beyond their traditional social base in urban areas. However, in the end, the Islamists’ strategy to penetrate Morocco’s rural areas did not gain traction, and the loyalist parties with clientelist ties to these regions, notably the PAM, garnered more voter support. Even though the PAM had lost the influence of Fouad Ali alHimma, it captured first place in the 2015 communal elections (21.1 percent of votes) and also second place in the 2016 parliamentary elections, respectively. Winning 55 more seats than it did in 2011, the PAM secured 102 of 395 deputy seats, and the loyalist parties, collectively, won 185 seats. Drawing on their support in rural areas and with traditional politicians, the PAM and other loyalist parties marshaled enough electoral strength to challenge the Islamists in communes and parliament. Following the Islamist success in Morocco’s 2016 elections, Benkirane began in October 2016 to take steps to forge a coalition that would act as the ruling majority government. With a new voter-approved mandate, even following the regime-imposed limitations on his governance, Benkirane gained renewed confidence that his Islamist party could drive reform. Because the loyalist parties had worked to block reforms as coalition members in Benkirane’s first government, he strove to exclude them from his post-2016 ruling majority. As after the 2011 elections, Benkirane looked first to invite the leftist party to become a coalition partner. Again, he recalled the two parties’ brief, positive collaboration in the 2009 National Front for Democracy. He hoped that an alliance with the leftist party would provide a better, more effective coalition government than one with loyalist parties. Initially, the leftists responded favorably to Benkirane’s invitation to revitalize their alliance. Having supported proposals for left-Islamist alliances in both 2009 and 2011, leftist parliamentary deputy Hassan Tarek, again, vocalized his support speaking before a congress of Islamist supporters. “You guys are on the right side, and that side is defending democracy and combating autocracy.”43 Leftists like Hassan Tarek envisioned a pact with the Islamists that could become a durable, long-term alliance, as had occurred

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with Tunisia’s Troika. Tarek implied that an alliance with the Islamists could provide a platform from which parties historically committed to democratization could collaborate and press for reform. Although the leftist party’s president, Driss Lachgar, had supported the 2009 alliance with the Islamists and opposed revitalizing it in 2011, he reversed his position again in 2016. This time, he backed a possible alliance with the Islamists. Unbeknownst to leftists like Hassan Tarek, who favored the left-Islamist alliance because of its capacity to support reform, Lachgar and his consorts justified it with a different rationale. In a mid-October 2016 meeting, Lachgar and the leftist leaders within his faction convened to discuss Benkirane’s invitation to join his alliance. They surmised that the leftist party had not benefited from remaining in the opposition, and justified allying with the Islamists “by a logic of profit.”44 Along with Lachgar, one leftist leader—Habib al-Maliki—most strongly advocated for this logic of profit behind alliance building with the Islamists. Consistent with their party’s gradual evolution into a proregime rural party, some leftists’ desire to revitalize their alliance with the Islamists hinged on short-term clientelist concerns of obtaining offices and accessing other patronage benefits. It was less concerned about long-term objectives of using a leftIslamist alliance to drive reform and, possibly, democratization. Negotiations to revitalize the alliance between the leftists and Islamists opened but quickly reached an impasse. Lachgar, as Benkirane alleged, caused a “blockage” in alliance negotiations. He aggressively overbid for too many ministerial positions, given his leftist party’s weak electoral results in 2016. Whereas the leftists came in fifth place in the 2011 elections, winning 39 seats, they slumped to sixth place in 2016, capturing only 20 seats. Lachgar and Habib al-Maliki also pressed Benkirane to appoint one of them to a powerful position, either as an influential minister or as Speaker of the House. Besides benefiting personally from these posts’ prestige, the leftist leaders would also gain new resources to distribute to their supporters. To overcome this “blockage” created by Lachgar, some Islamist leaders from Morocco even traveled to Tunisia to meet with Ennahda leader Rachid Ghannouchi, seeking his counsel on how to build a successful, enduring left-Islamist coalition. After months of haggling, the Islamists could not reach an agreement with the leftists, and

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Benkirane blamed Lachgar for botching finalization of an alliance pact. After receiving such meager support from voters, Benkirane surmised, it was undemocratic for the leftist party to demand such extensive benefits and ministerial posts. In negotiating whether to revitalize their leftIslamist alliance, the leftist party’s quest to acquire resources outweighed any desire to press for real reform. Facing this impasse in restarting the left-Islamist alliance, Benkirane resigned to another option: returning to the group of parties that had constituted his first ruling majority government. This decision necessitated collaboration with several loyalist parties, notably the RNI. Yet by forging an alliance with these parties, Benkirane risked having to reappoint loyalist politicians to ministerial posts in which they would (again) be empowered to block his reforms. However, even as Benkirane had resigned to returning to his first ruling majority, negotiations between the leftists and loyalist parties took place behind the scenes that further complicated his alliance building. Upset that Benkirane would not concede to their demands, the leftists schemed to advance their interests. By mid-January 2016, the leftists had gathered enough support from the PAM and other loyalist parties to elect one of their leaders, Habib el-Maliki, Speaker of the House. By late March 2017, Benkirane had not yet formed a coalition for the ruling majority government after five months of negotiations. He refused to accede to Lachgar and the leftists’ demands, viewing them as delegitimizing the will of voters. At this point, Morocco’s king intervened. He forcibly dismissed Benkirane (who never formally resigned willingly) from his position as prime minister, replacing him with a more pliable Islamist leader. Under the regime’s intense top-down pressure, the Islamists agreed to form a six-party ruling coalition government that included the leftist party and many loyalist parties. The Islamists were forced to cede control of most important ministries to the second-strongest loyalist party, the RNI, and also several patronage-heavy ministries to the leftists. Many Islamist leaders recoiled at the king’s dismissal of Benkirane after his decisive electoral victory, viewing it as a direct suspension of the voters’ will. The Islamists voted internally to bar Lachgar from becoming a minister in the Islamist-led government. Ultimately, Benkirane abandoned

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parliament in protest, vacating the deputy seat he had held by fair electoral victory since 1997. Despite his legitimate electoral mandate to govern a second term after the 2016 elections, Benkirane’s dismissal under regime pressure evidenced how Morocco’s Islamists continue to struggle uphill in driving reform within the autocratic system. They continued to bump up against the limitations of the glass ceiling that the regime imposed upon them. In fact, some hypothesized that the regime’s behind-the-scenes machinations helped to orchestrate the blockage to paralyze Benkirane’s government, despite the electoral support Moroccans had given it. Rumors circulated that the palace abhorred Benkirane’s unconventional style as prime minister with his dress, speech, and politicking that resembled a populist firebrand more than a refined, subdued, and controllable statesman. There was a sense that Benkirane’s populism had made him too popular, rivaling that perhaps even of the king. Thus, the regime perceived Benkirane as a threat with an independent cadre of followers who could not be permitted to remain in office. Hence, even though Morocco’s Islamists had won the greatest number of seats after the 2016 election, they ended up in a position of weakness without the capacity to implement reform by early 2017. As in 2009, the politics of alliances became a vehicle by which the leftists could pursue clientelist benefits rather than agitate for greater change and reform. These events align with the leftist party’s gradual evolution from a historic opposition party to a rural-based clientelist one. Mauritania: Erratic and Unstable Left-Islamist Alliances The Arab uprisings unfolded similarly in Mauritania. As in Morocco where a youth protest movement, the February 20th Movement, organized the first demonstrations, a similar group emerged in Mauritania— the February 25th Movement. On February 25, 2011, this youth movement spearheaded a protest of only 2,000 participants that took place in Mauritania’s capital, Nouakchott.45 Throughout the remainder of 2011, the capital simmered. Small protests occurred, yet none analogous in size and seriousness as Morocco’s or Tunisia’s. That only 2 percent of Mauritanians

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could access the Internet meant that information about protests spread more slowly, and thus they grew more gradually.46 Yet by 2012, demonstrations took place exceeding 90,000 participants. While this size of protest seems small for some Arab countries (like Egypt with more than 80 million citizens), it was striking for Mauritania with only 3.4 million. As in Morocco, the Arab uprisings and its aftermath provided a chance for Mauritania’s leftists and Islamists to revitalize their alliance. This alliance had collapsed following the Islamists’ decision to collaborate with the regime’s loyalist party, the UPR, for the 2009 senatorial elections. Although Mauritania’s leftists and Islamists revitalized their coalition to coordinate opposition contestation during the Arab uprisings, it failed (again) to become a long-term, enduring alliance. Yet unlike national-level alliances in Morocco, where actions of the leftists caused alliance collapse, decisions of the Islamists undermined Mauritania’s coalition. Gradually, again, Mauritania’s Islamists fell under the regime’s co-optation, defecting from the left-Islamist alliance to pursue political offices and their associated clientelist benefits. Two major incidents encouraged Mauritania’s Islamists to revitalize the left-Islamist alliance, which changed its name from the FNDD to the Coordination of Democratic Opposition (Coordination de l’opposition démocratique [COD]). Unrest centered on Mauritania’s two universities, the University of Nouakchott and the Higher Institute for Islamic Studies and Research (Institut supérieur d’études et de recherches islamiques, or the “Islamic Institute”). Although student unrest broke out initially in April 2011, it became more serious by late 2011 at the Islamic Institute. Following a Ministry of Education decree to shutter the Islamic Institute, its students—many of whom were Islamist sympathizers—began regular sit-ins and demonstrations. The ministry had decided to cancel the institute’s degree programs and reopen a new campus more than five hundred miles away in Ayoun al-Atrous. Few students desired to live in this isolated desert town. On January 4, 2012, this situation escalated when students barricaded themselves inside an Islamic Institute office, kidnapping its director. The standoff lasted several “bloody days,” notwithstanding the fact that students resisted police batons and tear gas using only “bare chests and

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hands.” The February 25th Movement organized solidarity demonstrations at the University of Nouakchott. At one point, President Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz appeared on campus at the Islamic Institute, promising to lower enrollment fees and increase student scholarships. The protesters refused to negotiate and blocked his entry. In a “bloody raid,” the police broke the students’ barricade, imprisoned thirty of them, and rescued the director.47 Mauritania’s Islamists and leftists rallied around the students; they condemned the regime’s heavy-handed measures. Because many of the students occupying the Islamic Institute were Islamists, the party’s leaders took a strong stand against the regime’s repression. Jemil Ould Mansour, the Islamist party’s president, declared that the police carried out “brutal oppression on the students,” who only “asserted their rights to sit-in as opposition to the closure and liquidation of their school.”48 The police also detained the Islamist party’s spiritual leader, Mohamed el-Hacen Ould Dedew, questioning him for hours about the unrest. Subsequently, Dedew spoke out through a Qatari newspaper. He vocalized support for Mauritania’s uprisings. He declared, “The Arab Spring’s chief goal is to change the existing corruption, and changing this corruption does not simply mean getting rid of the old corrupt system and replacing it with a new corrupt one, just like the old.” Obliquely referencing how Abdel Aziz had replaced Taya as reigning autocrat, he summarized that Mauritania needs more than “simply shuffling out old leaders with new ones, who citizens also don’t like.”49 Although the regime furnished no rationale for detaining Dedew, it later alleged that the Islamist party had secretly orchestrated the student unrest at the Islamic Institute.50 The leftists released a similar statement backing the students, especially as protests and sit-ins recommenced. At the University of Nouakchott and Islamic Institute, new conflicts included students burning tires, blocking entrances to buildings, and demanding spring-term registration open. The police responded forcefully. “Every time the regime’s reaction is identical,” the leftist statement declared. “There’s an intervention of police muscle with tear gas, kidnappings, and secret detentions. Faithful to its strategy of intimidation, the current regime has decided to transform the universities into military camps.”51 Having suffered for their own youth

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activism in the 1960s and 1970s, many leftists sympathized with the student protesters even though many adhered to an Islamist ideology. In addition to their common opposition to this new wave of repression occurring against students, the leftists and Islamists were motivated to revitalize their alliance based on a second factor. This was their joint opposition to new threatening revisions the regime proposed to the constitution. As in Morocco, which introduced a new constitution in July 2011 to stem popular unrest, Mauritania’s regime aimed to implement constitutional revisions in 2012 to generate an image reform thereby pacifying citizens who desired change. Yet as these revisions were drafted beginning in December 2011 and January 2012, it became clear that they actually reinforced autocratic rule rather than liberalized it. One revision increased the number of parliamentary deputies from 95 to 146. This reform aimed to enhance representation in rural areas where Abdel Aziz’s UPR drew on support of traditional politicians with clientelist ties. A second revision lessened the prime minister’s powers, shifting these to the president’s office. Most important, a third revision legally banned military coups. While ostensibly advantageous for future democratization, this provision nonetheless worked to reinforce the power of Abdel Aziz, who himself seized power by way of coup in 2008. By criminalizing coups with harsh penalties, Abdel Aziz intended to discourage future officers from plotting against him. Not only did the leftists and Islamists oppose the content of these constitutional revisions—as mechanisms to reinforce Abdel Aziz’s rule—but they also opposed how they passed through parliament. Deputies from the governing majority, notably the UPR party, had blocked leftist and Islamist deputies from speaking in parliamentary committees or on the floor about the revisions. They would not allow these oppositionists to use their powers as deputies to scrutinize the revisions. As the leftist party’s president, Moustapha Ould Badredine, said, “We were forbidden from speaking” about the revisions. “We became vulnerable to harassment and accusations when we tried to make inquiries and expose facts and circumstances that might harm the public.” Badredine’s Islamist counterpart, Jemil Ould Mansour, echoed these concerns. “The situation was abrasive,” he recalled. “These revisions came to the constitution, the most important

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document in Mauritania’s political system, and the UPR and its allied parties breached parliamentary rules and created this problem.”52 The leftists and Islamists also averred that all deputies’ five-year terms had expired in 2011, so none had valid powers to draft the revisions. Only deputies with electoral mandates should implement such critical constitutional changes. Driven by heightened repression and the constitutional revisions, the Islamists agreed to revitalize their opposition alliance with the leftists (now called the Coordination of Democratic Opposition [COD]). The Islamists also issued a report to the president, Reform before It’s Too Late, and sent it to him. The report criticized Abdel Aziz’s consolidation of political power and his unwillingness to share it with the Islamists. “The chief reason that the country suffers from crises and problems in this period,” the Islamists’ report explained, “is connected to the personalistic way in which the state has been administered during this president’s rule, whereby all decisions have been concentrated in his hands alone.” They also criticized Abdel Aziz’s creation of the UPR party, demanding “a dissolution of all manifestations of the regime party that has recently appeared, and a distancing of the government from identifying with political parties.” The Islamists called on Abdel Aziz to stop using “resources of the state during election campaigns,” especially in rural areas to secure the victory of his party.53 Thus, although Abdel Aziz had co-opted the Islamists in 2009, and drew them away from the left-Islamist alliance, he had not sustained this relationship. The Islamists had gained somewhat electorally by abandoning their alliance with the leftists and collaborating with the UPR, but Abdel Aziz had not subsequently shared power or eased access to the clientelist benefits associated with public offices. Hence, analysts viewed the Islamists’ decision to reinvigorate the opposition alliance with the leftists as an “inevitable break” with the regime.54 The Islamists also championed the advantages of the left-Islamist alliance. Jemil Ould Mansour celebrated the success of Tunisia’s Troika in a newspaper editorial, explaining what Mauritania’s alliance could learn from this “Tunisian lesson.” Historically, “a process of polarization” divided Tunisia’s Islamists and leftists, Mansour wrote. Yet beginning in 2005, the Troika parties showed “reason and wisdom to reject this polarization,” notwithstanding the fact that the Islamists had an “interest in combating

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secularism” and the leftists had “pressure on them” to shun allying with the Islamists. The “conclusion from the Tunisia lesson,” Mansour stated, is that “real ideological differences and competition” separate Islamists and leftists. Yet while “Islamists have their preferences and leftists have their own preferences,” this “competition is not the same thing as polarization.” “At this phase in these revolutions,” Mansour concluded, “Arab citizens will not tolerate any hampering in their demands for freedom, dignity, and independence because of ideological strife.”55 Unifying contestation with the leftists in the COD alliance, Mansour contended that Islamists could more effectively help Mauritanians actualize their desired reforms. While the Islamists criticized the regime and celebrated the COD alliance, some leftist leaders were skeptical. “The Islamists were close to the regime but with the Arab uprisings the game changed,” leftist party president Moustapha Ould Badredine explained. “They knew that there could be systemic reform, and they seized the opportunity.”56 The leftists recalled how the Islamists had been co-opted into working with Abdel Aziz’s party, causing the collapse of their alliance in 2009. In January 2012, the left-Islamist alliance’s contestation began. In parliament COD deputies organized a walkout to protest the constitutional revisions. Storming out of the building, Badredine declared to reporters that these revisions enhanced “the powers of the presidents’ chamber and not that of the elected assembly.”57 UPR politicians responded. They alleged that the leftists and Islamists had “called for violence,” fomenting “chaos in the country.” Next, the left-Islamist alliance announced that it would launch a “road show of anger” in numerous cities over the next month. The Islamists, leftists, and other parties of the COD would hold open-air rallies against the regime. The rallies began in the city of Nouadhibou, Mauritania’s economic capital with a large unionized population. At this first rally of about three thousand citizens, the leftists and Islamists released a joint statement that ordered the regime to “choose between true reform or leaving power.”58 The leftist- and Islamist-affiliated unions also joined the protests and rallies. Subsequently, the COD road show advanced to several cities that have been historic strongholds of Islamist support, notably Tintane, Guerro, Kiffa, and Ayoun al-Atrous.

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As the alliance’s rallies moved from one city to the next, its rhetoric became more and more confrontational. Crowds also grew larger and larger. “The time for change has come,” one COD statement read at a rally declared. “General Abdel Aziz has proclaimed himself the protector of dictators—like Muammar Gaddafi and Bashar al-Assad—against their oppressed peoples.”59 During another rally, likewise, an Islamist leader announced, “Mauritanian Islamists accept to live under a just state governed by rightists or leftists, but we do not accept to live in an unjust state of personalist rule and no institutions.”60 In the left-Islamist alliance’s penultimate rally, it urged citizens to rise up and “topple the regime.”61 The leftists and Islamists called for a transitional council, inviting parties, unions, and civil society to meet and discuss how a post–Abdel Aziz Mauritania would be governed. Feeling pressure from the contestation of the left-Islamist alliance, Abdel Aziz agreed to negotiate with the opposition parties. Whereas negotiators from the UPR and other loyalist parties represented Abdel Aziz, the leftists and Islamists had their own negotiators. Speaking for the leftist party, Badredine asked for a number of reforms, including cessation of oppression of students and peaceful protesters, a liberalization of the media, formation of a neutral bureaucracy without clientelism, free and fair elections, and the creation of an independent elections commission (not managed by Interior Ministry officials).62 The Islamists had similar demands. Ultimately, negotiations between the regime and the left-Islamist alliance failed, yet Abdel Aziz did concede to hold elections. After several delays, the regime began procedures for the elections and set a date of November 2013. Agreeing to hold elections did not satiate the leftists, though. They demanded Abdel Aziz’s resignation, calling for “transition from a dictatorial president to a democratic president.”63 Working with centrist parties in the COD, the leftists announced a boycott of the November 2013 elections. Their boycott aimed to undermine both the legitimacy of Abdel Aziz and the elections. Unbeknownst to Mauritania’s leftists, its Islamists began to contemplate defecting from the left-Islamist alliance to compete in Abdel Aziz’s elections. In the summer of 2012, the Islamists held a series of

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party meetings in which they agreed to defect from the alliance to compete, whereupon they informed the other COD parties of their decision.64 Indeed, the leftists’ initial skepticism of the Islamists commitment to their cross-ideological alliance proved accurate. Given that the Islamists were the strongest, most popular opposition party in the COD, their defection from the alliance undermined its impact and diluted the boycott. Justifying abandoning the alliance, Islamist party president Jemil Ould Mansour said, “Some will say that this represents a failure of the COD’s political unity and our rapprochement with the Power.”65 In a future public statement, Mansour further explained the Islamists’ logic for abandoning the COD and choosing to participate in the elections, even when the leftists upheld the boycott. In an authoritarian system, “one who waits for full freedom and transparency in elections before he participates in them will never do so until he governs.” But “one will never govern until he participates in elections, so this clarifies the best course of action.” Indeed, the decision to “participate is based on our reading of the situation and a calculation of our interests.”66 In a similar vein, one Islamist parliamentary deputy noted that “initially I opposed participation in the elections, but, with time, I became convinced that its advocates were correct. The boycott was disastrous and all other methods of political change had failed, so participation in elections became the only choice.”67 Yet much like Morocco’s leftists, who defected from their alliance with the PJD in 2009 to pursue clientelist benefits of collaborating with the regime, Mauritania’s Islamists appeared to defect for a more material rationale. In not only Tunisia and Morocco but also Egypt and other Arab states, the Arab uprisings brought numerous Islamist parties to power by way of the ballot box in 2011 and 2012. Looking at examples of Islamists’ electoral victories from across the region, Mauritania’s Islamists presumed their chances of electoral success were high if they chose to compete. Moreover, they saw that Islamist success came in elections after a democratic transition (as in Tunisia) or under an authoritarian system (as in Morocco). Given the swelling popularity of Islamists, one prominent journalist hypothesized that Mauritania’s Islamists realized that “all countries of

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North Africa risked falling into the lap of the Islamist movement.” Yet he cautioned that the regime “always operates the same system of exploitation against these Islamist movements.” Whereas the regime contains these Islamists by allowing them to compete in elections and acquire clientelist benefits of elected offices, it “never hesitates to fiercely repress” them if they stop being “obedient Islamists.”68 Mauritania’s Islamists made large gains in the November 2013 elections by winning second place, securing 16 deputy seats (of 146 total seats) and 17 communes (of 218 total). With this victory, the Islamists became the only institutional opposition within the parliament and local communes to oppose the regime. Although the leftists had aimed to use the boycott to delegitimize the regime, the Islamists’ defection from the COD and participation in the elections undermined this stratagem. Further, the leftists’ decision to boycott the elections deteriorated their party’s perceived organizational strength. It sparked internal conflicts in which some leftist leaders called on others to resign. Although the Islamists had succeeded electorally, winning more offices than previously in the party’s history, the regime devised measures to constrain their success. It blocked their capacity to drive reform. Like Morocco’s regime that created the G-8 coalition of loyalist parties to undercut its Islamists, Mauritania’s regime forged an analogous elevenparty alliance. Within this “Coalition of the Majority,” two parties were key. These parties were the UPR and a new party marketed toward youth, Burst of Youth for the Nation (Sursaut de la jeunesse pour la nation). Although Burst of Youth denied it was “manufactured by the presidential palace,” it soon became clear that it played an integral role in the regime’s strategy to contain Islamist power.69 Hailing from a rural notable family in M’bout, the youth party’s founder, Lalla Mint Cherif, was the daughter of a Taya-era politician. She had deep connections in rural areas. Abdel Aziz signaled support for her new youth party, appointing Cherif his minister of culture, sport, and youth. Next, he met with Burst of Youth’s leadership and instructed several UPR advisers to assist them in fund-raising and party-organizing activities. Publicly, Abdel Aziz also endorsed Burst of Youth, proclaiming that his “heart” was with the youth party for the 2013 elections but that

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his “mind” was with the UPR. Leveraging her connections in rural areas, Cherif enlarged her party quickly. Her party pushed into the provinces of Adrar, Guidimakha, and others, registering more than five thousand new members from rural areas in less than six months. Besides the Islamists and the UPR, Burst of Youth emerged as the third-strongest party in advance of the 2013 elections. Working together, these two loyalist parties and the other Coalition of the Majority parties captured 108 seats and 153 communes. In numerous electoral districts, the Islamists reported that state officials had disadvantaged their candidates and helped those affiliated with the regime’s loyalist parties. Thus, although the Islamists had made gains following the 2013 elections, their capacity to implement reform was limited when these loyalist parties won such a wide majority. In the following year’s presidential election, Abdel Aziz won by 81 percent, further solidifying his power.70 Even though the regime effectively constrained the Islamists’ political power through its elections, they conceded that participation was the only way to achieve its ultimate goal. “Our party’s objective,” as Jemil Ould Mansour noted, “is to become the country’s leadership and not the leadership of the opposition.”71 Thus, while the Islamists realized their defection from the COD to compete in the elections undercut the alliance, they perceived it as an unavoidable step toward capturing state offices and gaining their associated clientelist benefits. As elsewhere in North Africa, the Arab uprisings and their aftermath affected alliances between leftists and Islamists in Mauritania. As in Morocco, the uprisings generated an opportunity for revitalizing the left-Islamist alliances after its earlier collapse. Yet while the regime had effectively drawn Tawassoul away from the alliance through co-optation in 2009, it did not reward the Islamist party afterward or share power with it. Because Abdel Aziz’s did not maintain its co-optation strategy against the Islamists, they revitalized their opposition alliance with the leftists in 2012 when unrest broke out. Yet even this Islamist decision to renew the alliance with the leftists did not last long, and it ultimately collapsed again. These decisions surrounding the 2013 elections showed that Mauritania’s Islamists have an irregular, erratic commitment to coalitions with the leftist opposition. In pursuit of the clientelist benefits that come with

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elected offices, Mauritania’s Islamists have (much like Morocco’s leftists) abandoned alliances, thereby hindering their capacity to become durable, long-term partnerships to drive reform. Conclusion National-level opposition alliances between leftists and Islamists followed distinct trajectories in Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania. Whereas the Troika ultimately disbanded before Tunisia’s 2014 elections, it had until that year provided a stable framework for opposition coordination. Since 2005, Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists collaborated in an alliance to contest the autocrat, support popular mobilizations in 2011, and oversee the transition afterward. National-level alliances in Tunisia evidence the possible benefits of sustained, unified contestation within a durable, long-term alliance. Eventually, the successful democratic transitional made the leftIslamist alliance obsolete, however. Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists became political parties within a democratic system in which they competed with each other in elections, jockeying for political influence much like parties in any stable democracy. And while Tunisia’s democratic transition has not fully consolidated, and major difficulties and problems remain, the indispensability of an enduring left-Islamist alliance to sustain coordinated opposition unity has passed. Hitherto allies have evolved into natural competitors in a normalized postauthoritarian order where free and fair elections adjudicate winners and losers. By contrast, the Arab uprisings and aftermath influenced alliances differently in Morocco and Mauritania, where authoritarian regimes continue to maintain an ironclad grasp over politics. In these locales, as in Tunisia, leftists and Islamists had experimented with joint opposition coordination in national-level politics in the 2000s. The opposition parties had built alliances, yet unlike in Tunisia, these pacts collapsed owing to regime co-optation often during which parties defected from coalitions to pursue their own narrower interests. When the uprisings began, some leaders within the leftist and Islamist parties in Morocco and Mauritania agitated to revitalize past alliances. Yet in both countries, such efforts

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to reawaken national-level alliances failed to produce durable, long-term alliances as in Tunisia. As in the mid-2000s, some of the opposition parties fell under the co-optative influence of authoritarian regimes, placing their party’s short-term clientelist interests over the broader interests of reform and democratization.

Conclusion This book has developed a social structural theory for why alliances between two of the Arab world’s fiercest oppositionists—leftists and Islamists—succeed or fail. By comparing cases of alliances, it has traced the process of opposition coalition formation, collapse, and endurance over time. Drawing on Arabic-based research in North Africa, and utilizing original field interviews, archival sources, and statistical data, the book’s narrative sought to explain puzzling variation in alliance durability. As recommended by Andrew George and Andrew Bennett, the book has leveraged its evidence to recount the “finest level of detail observable” to re-create “the sequencing of happenings” that led to alliance failure.1 Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania were selected as sites of investigation because they feature similar geographic location, colonial heritage, and Arab-Berber culture, yet have experienced cases of alliances between opposition parties with varying resilience. Not only did cases of leftIslamist alliances appear in these three states in national-level politics, but they also appeared in subnational politics. While some of these leftIslamist alliances failed in a few months, others endured over multiple years. What this study has striven to do is explore and unpack this puzzling variation. This book’s theory highlights the role of an opposition party’s social base. Yet the theory begins not with the opposition party itself but with autocrats’ early decision making during the postcolonial period, when they took their countries down two diverging pathways of regime formation. Whereas one regime (Tunisia) marginalized social structures of rural areas, its two neighboring regimes (Morocco and Mauritania) made such structures the mainstay of their authoritarian systems. Indeed, 190

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while Tunisia’s postcolonial ruler sidelined traditional politicians during regime formation, Morocco’s and Mauritania’s rulers made them key figures in their new regimes. They became core pillars of support. These regime-formation legacies left a path-dependent imprint, conditioning tactics of divide and rule that autocrats used against alliances when they were forged in the late 2000s between leftist and Islamist opposition parties. While the core supporters of all three regimes remained relatively static from the postcolonial years until the contemporary period, the social bases of the opposition parties did not. Birthed in large cities, some opposition parties gradually incorporated traditional politicians from rural areas into their ranks. The constituencies these traditional politicians represented typically suffered from high illiteracy and were embedded in clientelist arrangements. In later years the leftist and Islamist parties in Morocco and Mauritania that came to rely on such politicians and their constituencies evolved into less serious, confrontational opposition organizations. Further, they encountered problems sustaining alliances with opposition parties that had retained urban social bases, who represented areas where such clientelist structures were largely absent. Parties that had undergone this gradual, longue durée realignment of their social bases toward rural areas became less assertive. They became more likely to fall to regimes’ co-optation strategies, which spoiled alliances. This dynamic appeared most clearly in Morocco and Mauritania, where autocrats had anchored their authoritarian regimes upon such rural, clientelist social structures. In Tunisia, where such patterns of regime formation were absent and the regime built itself on urban areas, the process of social base realignment did not cripple opposition parties. Rather, the regime chose direct coercion to try to break alliances. Here, co-optation did not feature prominently in the regime’s “menu of manipulation” to shatter alliances.2 As cases of durable, long-term alliances between leftists and Islamists in labor and city politics in Morocco and Mauritania demonstrate, domains of politics where opposition parties kept social bases not entangled in rural social structures became more likely to sustain their coalitions. These left-Islamist alliances survived regimes’ attempts to break alliances through co-optation.

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The remainder of this book discusses how its results intersect other areas of scholarship. It presents a hierarchy of key findings. Whereas some findings are more confident in nature, others are less conclusive. These findings also vary in terms of their generalizability to other authoritarian regimes—some pertain only to North Africa, while others may carry implications for other Arab states. Finally, some findings reveal this study’s limitations and pinpoint areas for future research. The book closes by evaluating how it advances existing research on opposition alliances and authoritarian regimes in the Middle East, specifically, and in the developing world, more generally. Key Findings Three chief findings emerge from this study’s comparison of the collapse and endurance of left-Islamist coalitions. The book’s first main finding is that the domain of politics mattered for the durability of opposition alliances. Often, previous studies on opposition alliances in authoritarian regimes of the Arab world emphasize tracking coordination and contestation in national-level politics. This practice derives not only from the perception that national-level politics seem to carry higher stakes but also from the fact that scholars often focus their fieldwork in capital cities. Yet in analyzing the durability of opposition alliances in subnational contexts, especially within large cities and labor unions, additional crucial cases of enduring alliances can be furnished. Reinforcing the conclusions of Janine Clark and Jillian Schwedler,3 one finding from this study is that more research should investigate subnational instances of opposition alliances across diverse domains of politics. This finding matters because subnational analysis generates additional, underexploited evidence, which can help to assess existing theories emphasizing the importance of institutions and strategy to explain variation in alliance durability. Beginning in the 1990s, and continuing during the 2000s, literature on democratization in the MENA examined how institutions aided authoritarian resilience. These studies found that formal institutions— like rules and laws that regulated electoral participation, campaigns, and party licensing—could be used to divide and rule over opposition parties

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when engineered successfully. When autocrats craftily manipulated their regime’s internal institutions, enduring opposition alliances became less likely to appear as opposition parties were kept separated and in competition.4 These studies paralleled works that emerged from other geographic regions, especially Latin America, that stressed similar themes. For example, Brazilian autocrats, as Kurt Weyland notes, designed institutions to produce a “fragmented society in an effort at applying divide-and-rule tactics” to undermine opposition parties.5 Regimes that created what became known as “liberalized autocracy” in their institutional design were considered the most robust.6 As Daniel Brumberg notes, using institutions to facilitate “state-controlled inclusion” of Islamists and other opposition parties reinforced regimes better than “total exclusion” of such groups.7 These regimes’ divided institutional environments helped generate an impression of greater pluralism, where at least some opposition parties could operate freely.8 However, when autocrats created rules and internal institutions that excluded most opposition parties from participation, then the likelihood of their cooperation in alliances would increase. Under this institutional arrangement, enduring alliances became more likely. Because these regimes created a unified institutional environment that excluded opposition parties, said parties faced fewer potential costs by allying in coalitions. Since nearly all opposition parties were banned, they had few qualms uniting to contest the incumbent regime.9 Results from this study further research on authoritarian institutions. Per this research’s expectations, durable, long-term opposition alliances would emerge in Tunisia but not in either Morocco or Mauritania. Because Tunisia’s regime featured mainly exclusionary internal institutions that banned most opposition parties, it provided a more fertile environment for stable coalitions. Since both Morocco and Mauritania had divided institutional environments, which kept some parties legal and others illegal, neither state according to this research would be likely to experience enduring alliances. Autocrats leading these regimes manipulated their internal institutions to keep opposition parties divided. Findings from this book show that national-level opposition coordination cohered with these expectations. Tunisia’s Troika was far more

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enduring than either Morocco’s National Front for Democracy or Mauritania’s National Front for the Defense of Democracy. Long before the Arab uprisings, Tunisia’s opposition parties allied in exile against the regime beginning in 2005. Once the Arab uprisings broke out, they supported protesters who toppled the regime, stewarded the transition, and constructed a new order thereafter. By contrast, alliances between leftists and Islamists formed in Morocco and Mauritania on the national level yet failed quickly. Coordination between them in national-level coalitions collapsed. In subsequent years, during and after the Arab uprisings, efforts to restart these alliances on the national level proved irregular and fragile. Yet in Morocco and Mauritania, the durability of opposition alliances varied significantly across different domains of politics. By examining additional cases of subnational left-Islamist coalitions, we see cases of enduring alliances. In these domains of politics, opposition parties overcame divide-and-rule tactics to succeed in building durable, long-term coalitions. In effect, examining enduring left-Islamist alliances in city and labor politics in Morocco and Mauritania reveals the conditions under which more sustainable opposition coordination can arise in authoritarian regimes with divided institutional environments. When it compares alliances across subnational domains of politics, this study furnishes evidence complicating the expectations of intuitionalist theories for the success and failure of opposition coordination.10 Utilizing subnational analysis to generate more cases of left-Islamist alliance failure and success helps to advance research on the role of strategic incentives for opposition coordination. The strategic approach to explaining opposition coordination emphasizes that a strategic stimulus initiates the process of alliance formation.11 Whether it comes in the form of an exceptional opportunity or a threat, a strategic incentive of some kind encourages opposition alliance formation. Frequently, some versions of this strategic approach emphasize that opposition parties rush to initiate alliances to overthrow a regime when it is at its peak of instability. Aspects of this book’s narrative confirm this theory: although Tunisia’s national-level alliance began in 2005 long before Ben Ali’s ouster, the opposition parties of the coalition increased and intensified statements criticizing his regime in the days immediately preceding its breakdown.

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However, because this strategic approach emphasizes understanding the causes of initial alliance formation, it underexamines why alliances succeed in becoming durable, long-term pacts. Indeed, the strategic approach predicts that alliances are not likely to endure at all and will fail quickly after tipping points of regime collapse. This outcome flows from the fact that opposition parties (hitherto allies) fear each other’s relative gains in power in a new postregime order. Since, as Jennifer Gandhi writes, opposition parties can seize control of the state and gain significant powers to “dissolve the legislature” and “call a state of emergency,” their former allies express distrust of these potential asymmetries of power. To compensate, they quit alliances, causing their failure to ensure no opposition party acquires such “powers to disadvantage other parties.”12 From this perspective, alliance endurance is unlikely to occur, because opposition parties cannot credibly commit to not exploiting each other in the postregime order. Implicitly, this strategic approach to opposition coordination combines the topics of alliance formation and durability, fusing them into the same phenomenon. It leaves the process of what might cause alliance endurance over time largely underexplored. In some respects, elements of this book’s narrative of North Africa confirm the predictions of studies emphasizing the importance of strategic incentives. Affirming the important studies of Gandhi, Clark, and others, the narrative reveals that some kind of change in the political opportunity structure—typically a threat or opportunity—appears before opposition parties initiate alliances. Yet in other respects, the historical record of left-Islamist alliances did not always parallel the theoretical predictions of studies focused on strategic incentives. In Tunisia the Troika did not fail after Ben Ali’s regime’s collapse—it endured, in fact, for several years afterward. Moreover, the opposition parties did not terminate their alliance owing to fear of each other’s relative gains in the postregime order, or their inability to credibly commit to refrain from exploiting each other with their newfound powers. In Morocco, further, left-Islamist coalitions emerged in 2009 when the regime appeared to be strengthening and not teetering toward collapse. Further, in all three cases, left-Islamist alliances appeared several years before the exceptional region-wide unrest of the Arab uprisings, which threatened regimes across the region. At the

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height of protests of spring 2011, and also during the 2011 elections thereafter, Morocco’s leftists rejected Islamists’ invitations to reestablish their national-level alliance. Ultimately, the leftists agreed to revive their 2009 alliance with the Islamists only in 2017, when they thought their party could possibly benefit from clientelist arrangements. Finally, on the subnational level, several alliances in Morocco and Mauritania—notably in large cities and labor unions—began in the mid-2000s, endured through the 2011 uprisings, and persisted until the mid-2010s. In short, the empirical pattern of durability of left-Islamist alliances found in these three North African countries does not jibe with the predictions of strategic theories. Although the strategic approach likely carries explanatory power in other countries, this book’s evidence advances this scholarship by delimiting its applicability to North Africa. By decoupling alliance formation from endurance, this study proffers a richer understanding of coordination between opposition parties. It also advances research on the strategic approach by showing how enduring alliances came from the sequencing of strategic and social structural variables. Although a change in the political opportunity structure encouraged opposition parties to form alliances, the nature of their social base enhanced their durability and stability over time. Especially as chapter 5 shows in examining coalitions in unions and city governments, alliances became more enduring in situations in which the parties did not depend on constituencies entrapped in clientelist structures. Indeed, in comparing the durability of left-Islamist alliances in national, city, and labor politics in Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania, this study has found that strategic incentives are a necessary but not alone sufficient condition to succeed in building durable, long-term alliances. This study’s three-level comparison, including subnational cases of left-Islamist alliances, advances recent innovations in comparative methods, known as the third wave of comparative historical analysis. One way in which the third wave distinguishes itself from the second wave, which includes luminaries like Barrington Moore and Theda Skocpol, is to move beyond the state as the comparative unit of analysis.13 Here, this book furthers this intellectual movement by comparing cases of leftIslamist alliances across three different domains of politics to illustrate

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how subnational analysis can engage existing theories of opposition coordination. This book also hopes to have shown how alliances occurring subnationally can lead to conflicts with regimes over policy issues with serious stakes. They are not merely instances of low-stakes alliances. For example, alliances in large cities and labor unions can lead to contestation over policies affecting local governance, workers’ rights, decentralization, and economic development. Moreover, opposition-regime conflicts subnationally (especially in labor unions and city governments) often presage issues that ultimately reach national importance. Both in Tunisia and in Morocco, labor unions mobilized for the anticolonial struggle, participated in urban riots of the 1980s, and contributed to unrest during the Arab uprisings. Politics of cities can also presage national trends. In Algeria, for example, few remember that the Islamic Salvation Front swept the 1990 communal elections before their controversial rise to national power in 1992.14 By shifting the level of analysis to opposition activity below national politics, this book has contributed to a recent stream of research led by Ellen Lust and others that emphasizes the benefits of subnational analysis.15 Such comparisons can help to paint a more detailed portrait of regime-opposition relations in authoritarian politics. An additional finding from this book’s subnational comparison of alliances confirms the findings of Clark, who emphasizes how the rigidity of coalitions mattered in determining their durability. Indeed, leftists and Islamists had more success in forging alliances and maintaining them over time when the coalitions were “undemanding and nonbinding in nature,” she notes. In effect, the leftists and Islamists could build more enduring coalitions when they were able to build alliances on narrower topics, which were determined on an issue-by-issue basis.16 Maha Abdelrahman similarly concluded that a loose alliance framework was essential to ensure such pacts did not fail over time. Indeed, “The Egyptian leftists,” she writes, only “mention that they work alongside the Islamists in joint activities rather than with them.”17 According to these scholars, leftists and Islamists can succeed in building the most durable, long-term alliances when both parties realize that their pacts are flexible and forged to pursue narrow, specific objectives. Coalitions in city and labor politics

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cohere with these findings in this book, as leftists and Islamists succeeded in constructing enduring alliances when pursuing clearly defined reforms that benefited their similar urban middle-class supporters. This book’s second chief finding is that co-optation is a key tactic regimes use to break opposition alliances when confronted by them. To shatter alliances, authoritarian regimes often do not use brute force only. While classic studies of authoritarianism emphasize a regime’s ability to stop oppositionists through its repressive apparatuses, it is clear that they also deploy nonviolent tactics like co-optation.18 They woo opposition parties away from their coalition partners to cripple alliances. This finding coheres with literature focusing on how co-optation aids autocracies of eastern Europe, notably Russia,19 and also earlier studies focused on dictatorships in Latin America, especially Mexico.20 Likewise, classic and contemporary studies on regime-opposition relations in the MENA have noted the importance of co-optation as a tactic of authoritarian control. Numerous works stress its particular importance in Morocco, where its rulers, as Daniel Byman explains, “heavily relied on co-optation to win the goodwill of potentially belligerent elites and to demonstrate their commitment to important groups and tribes.”21 Yet co-optation is a difficult phenomenon not only to define but also to track in real politics. It is difficult to know who has succumbed to the regime’s co-optation and who has not. It is also challenging to distinguish variation in levels of co-optability. Not every party and politician seems equally co-opted and co-optable, and some seem far more susceptible to and influenced by it than others. As a response, scholars often overapply the concept in explaining regime-opposition interactions in North African politics. Some studies—emphasizing the monarch’s Islamic standing as Prince of the Believers (amir al-mu’minin)—claim that any politician or party that accepts the religious supremacy and symbology of Morocco’s monarch is co-opted.22 These politicians evidence co-optation by engaging in subservience rituals and ceremonies associated with this symbology. Others say that any party is co-opted if it gains legalization or “buys into” regime rules for electoral and political participation.23 These definitions of co-optation draw on the classic work of Juan Linz, who described it as “a constant process by which different sectors or institutions become

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participants in the system.”24 Meanwhile, other scholars see both legal and illegal parties and movements (like those in civil society or outside of formal politics) as co-opted or potentially co-optable when regimes grant concessions.25 Indeed, granting concessions, as Paul Aarts and Francesco Cavatorta explain, could serve as one of the “mechanisms of state domination and co-optation of civil society.”26 Given the prevalence and variation in these definitions of co-optation, its use as an explanatory process is difficult and potentially vulnerable to conceptual stretching, especially when applied to the Moroccan political context. This book furthers the works of Stacher, Josua, and other scholars that seek to examine the “micro-dynamics of co-optation” in the Middle East context.27 Particularly, it helps to flesh out and pinpoint how cooptation works and link the nature of an opposition party’s social base to the co-optation process. The primacy of a party’s social base in shaping its co-optability means that opposition alliances are least resilient when the parties that make them rely on popular support intertwined in rural, clientelist hierarchies. Yet this book has also outlined how this co-optation process became most prevalent in regimes that were historically built on such traditional social structures. Opposition parties who come to depend on such rural clientelist social bases fall to co-optation more easily because regimes know that their politicians will be less likely to resist and less costly to buy off. Yet in this relationship, co-optation evolves into more than a unidirectional process in which only the regime benefits. Although regimes carry out co-optation against opposition politicians to stabilize their rule and undermine alliances, the politicians also gain from getting co-opted. The real on-the-ground process of co-optation is often more interactive than hitherto expected. Frequently, succumbing to co-optation can be a boon for acquiring resources politicians can use to reward constituents in their clientelist networks, especially in developmental funds and other aid. In this sense, co-optation can help to generate resources for rural citizens to alleviate their material hardship. Moreover, co-optation also helps politicians advance and realize their own personal political objectives and ambitions, as the examples of Driss Lachgar and Mohamed Boughlem evidence.

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If the collapse of national-level alliances in Morocco and Mauritania supports this theory, then enduring coalitions in large cities and labor unions in these two states show it works in reverse. When the opposition parties built alliances that advanced reforms that benefited urban middle-class supporters unencumbered by rural social structures, then their coalitions became more enduring. Because opposition parties were less vulnerable to co-optation in these contexts, their alliances became more durable and long term. In certain respects, this finding builds on a large body of existing works that highlight the urban middle-class social base of most Islamist parties, which also makes them more vigorous, organized opposition parties.28 Indeed, in her seminal study on Islamist parties and social service provision, Janine Clark describes the “archetypical” Islamist not as rural, downtrodden, or illiterate but rather as the opposite—the “urban, middleclass, literate.”29 Here, this analysis furthers these extant studies by linking these social structural characteristics of Islamist parties to the durability of their alliances with other opposition parties. The parties that retained such social forces within their popular foundations became the most reliable, stalwart allies in coalitions. If evidence from Morocco and Mauritania supports this theory, then Tunisia represents a different pathway. Here, the regime formed from major urban centers where rural, clientelist social structures were largely absent. Bourguiba and Ben Ali captured urban support for their regime through a strong ruling party, emasculated communal governments, and tamed labor leadership. To stop an opposition alliance when it emerged in 2005, co-optation was never needed. The regime crowded out the opposition parties and drove their alliance into exile. Although Tunisia’s leftists and Islamists continued to maintain support among many citizens in urban middle-class areas, their alliance operated from 2005 until 2011, mainly from abroad. On the eve of regime collapse in 2011, the leftIslamists returned from exile as the Troika to contest remaining remnants of the regime and oversee the democratic transition until early 2014. Insights from this book inform research on the micro-dynamics of cooptation in authoritarian regimes. In examining Morocco and Mauritania, we observed that co-optation is not an all-encompassing phenomenon.

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When regimes deploy co-optation to weaken opposition parties and shatter alliances, they target specific individuals or factions within parties. Some segments of a party succumb to co-optation, whereas others appear to resist it. From this perspective, co-optation could be better known as “targeted co-optation.” Also, not all opposition parties fell to co-optation equally. Herein, co-optation weakened the leftist party in Morocco and the Islamist party in Mauritania most. That leftists became “co-optable” in Morocco and Islamists “co-optable” in Mauritania underscores that nothing intrinsic to their ideological values or policy preferences played a decisive role in increasing these parties’ vulnerability to co-optation. Morocco’s leftist party, in particular, is evolving from being an opposition party to becoming a full-fledged proregime party. Driss Lachgar’s rise to leadership in the leftist party with the support of traditional politicians and the tacit backing of the regime evidences the increasing extent of its co-optation. These findings underline that some studies that dismiss most opposition parties operating in Morocco and other Arab states as merely autocrats’ “puppet parties” may simplify a more complex process by which such organizations succumb to regimes’ co-optation.30 But, crucially, no party was absolved from co-optation entirely. Both Islamists and leftists were sometimes vulnerable to regime co-optation. Nothing unique or innate to either opposition party’s ideology or policy stances enhanced its susceptibility to co-optation. Even the Moroccan Islamists, whose politicians were the least affected by co-optation, were not entirely protected from this regime divide-and-rule tactic. Anecdotes of individual Moroccan Islamists co-opted into loyalist parties exist, such as the story of Oujda’s Khalid Zohir. As the Moroccan Islamists have created a ruling majority government, they will need to work to maintain their autonomy from the regime. For now, Morocco’s Islamists have resisted the temptations of co-optation successfully, but they could fall to them in the future. They have largely retained an urban base of support within larger cities, as the results of the 2015 communal elections and 2016 parliamentary elections evidence. While the Islamist party has historically been “largely absent from rural areas,” as Anouar Boukhars notes, results from this book indicate that its very recent campaign to attract rural voters begun in 2016 may be an unwise strategy and ultimately increase its

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vulnerability to co-optation.31 This could be especially true if, like the leftist party after 2002, the Islamist party begins to gradually recruit traditional politicians whose power depends on patron-client relationships. If Morocco’s Islamist party intensifies this strategy in rural areas in the next electoral round, it may endanger its capacity to act as a crucial advocate for democratization. Some experts may disagree with this interpretation. They would respond that Morocco’s Islamists have always been the “king’s Islamists” or the “palace Islamists,” succumbing to co-optation in the early 1990s.32 Others go further, stating that they have “completely makhzenized.”33 Because Morocco’s Islamist party has accepted the regime’s rules of participation and integrated into formal politics, scholars adhering to this belief maintain that these decisions evidence its co-optation. Yet even after the Islamist party gained legalization, it faced bouts of regime repression while participating in politics. These included the 2003 effort to ban the party, the 2009 beating of an Islamist local politician into a coma, and the 2011 imprisonment of a key Islamist party leader (who was released as a concession only during the Arab uprisings).34 Most recently, the regime blocked the 2015 candidacy of an Islamist politician who simultaneously served as a religious sheikh, deeming his rhetoric “hate speech.”35 Similarly, even after the leftist party fully integrated into electoral politics in 1976, some of its leaders were imprisoned in the 1980s after riots in urban areas.36 The upshot is that it is difficult to logically maintain the argument that an opposition party is both co-opted while, simultaneously, some of the politicians within its ranks are beaten, imprisoned, or banned. Although scholars often presume that a party’s participation in formal politics under imperfect authoritarian elections evidences co-optation, this study has shown that it entails a more complex process. Even Moroccan politicians’ verbal declarations and subservience ceremonies recognizing the king’s religious supremacy and symbology, which some scholars present as proof of co-optation, may serve as a self-defense mechanism forestalling repression rather than evidencing genuine belief. Indeed, whereas some Islamists, such as Abdelilah Benkirane, have issued (nearly obsequious) statements celebrating the king’s religious supremacy,

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other party leaders have questioned it or called for a parliamentary monarchy in which the king “reigns but does not govern.”37 Most strongly, one Islamist party leader recently criticized the monarchy’s religious symbology and subservience ceremonies as “gestures that debase our humanity and our dignity,” showing that the regime’s “political culture is archaic, it is anti-democratic, and it is anti-human rights.” “Everyone,” he asserted, “would like to see this ceremony abolished, not just the PJD.”38 Hence to one extent or another, the opposition parties of this book that participate in the formal politics of authoritarian regimes embody what Juan Linz describes as “semi-opposition,” straddling the division between full rejection and tacit acceptance of the regime’s continuing rule.39 Their politicians are crafty and keen political operators, who accept the rules of the electoral game but also try to push the envelope as much as they can to advance reform, without endangering their access to formal politics. They walk the corridors of power with a clear-eyed understanding of the privileges and constraints of political participation and how they can advocate for their supporters’ interests without provoking regime repression. Yet this book maintains that examining changes in an opposition party’s social base—and especially its relationship to rural clientelism— can better gauge its degree of co-optation. This point is particularly true in regimes (like Morocco and Mauritania) where state building made these social structures core to authoritarian rule. This book also demonstrates how loyalist parties acted as vehicles to carry out co-optation on behalf of autocrats. Although recent research by Ellen Lust has found that loyalist parties were of “limited use” in bolstering Arab regimes, these trends do not fully generalize to Morocco or Mauritania, where loyalist parties “did the work” for autocrats in peeling oppositionists away from alliances.40 In Mauritania and Morocco, loyalist parties rise and fall frequently. The politicians who constitute them embody a fluid, difficult-to-define class of political actors with support often derived from rural areas. Parties come and go, but the individual politicians that compose loyalist parties remain a constant in the background. Politician Lemrabott Sidi Mahmoud Ould Cheikh Ahmed outlasted Mauritania’s two military coups and its democratization experiment. As autocrat Ma’aouya Sid Ahmed Ould Taya’s interior minister, he mobilized

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traditional politicians controlling clientelist networks to organize electoral campaigns in the countryside on behalf of the regime’s party. After Taya was deposed, he ran campaigns that rallied rural support for proregime independent candidates. Today, in Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz’s regime, he is a top official and chief campaign organizer for the autocrat’s Union for the Republic Party. Réda Guédira, Ahmad Osman, and Fouad Ali al-Himma were personal advisers of Moroccan kings, founding loyalist parties at their encouragement. When their parties collapsed, these men did not fade into obscurity. Rather, they returned to positions of authority inside the palace walls. Although scholars of democratization in North Africa often treat Morocco’s monarch as an impartial adjudicator of competing factions, the historical narrative recounted herein indicates otherwise.41 While the monarch does look down from high on parties competing in the arena of politics, and rarely steps foot directly into the fray, he is no neutral arbiter. From Réda Guédira and the FDIC in 1962 to Fouad Ali al-Himma and the PAM today, Morocco’s monarchy is invested in seeing the success of some political parties and the failure of others. The monarchy wants loyalist parties to thrive, serving as its implementers of co-optation to cap and counter the strength of opposition parties. This finding emerging from this book’s evidence confirms the pioneering work of John Entelis, who was one of the first to outline how loyalist parties were “encouraged to emerge, propped up, or otherwise given new life” to undermine opposition parties.42 This book’s third key finding relates to the importance of regime type in authoritarian systems, specifically research around the “monarchical exception” in the MENA. Both scholars studying authoritarianism crossnationally, like Barbara Geddes43 and Jason Brownlee, and also those focused on the MENA region, such as Michael Herb,44 stress the criticality of regime type in explaining change and continuity in authoritarian politics. Some types of regimes seem better at fending off opposition alliances than others, which acts as one among a multitude of factors that helps autocrats retain power and enhance authoritarian robustness.45 In recent years, this scholarly conversation has reemerged in studies of democratization in the Middle East in underlining the differences

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between presidential and monarchical regimes. This research emphasizes one core claim: Arab monarchies proved far more durable than nonmonarchies during the Arab uprisings.46 While the unrest of 2011 brought “spectacular changes in the region’s authoritarian republics,” as Sean Yom and Gregory Gause note, it “largely bypassed its autocratic monarchies.”47 Indeed, of the nineteen Arab states, only four leaders lost power during the uprisings—all were presidents; none were monarchs. Only one monarchy, Bahrain, even came close to collapse. Numerous reasons explain why Arab monarchies remained far more stable than presidencies, including (among others) the presence of oil wealth,48 loyalty of the military apparatus,49 and support of foreign powers.50 Compared with their presidential counterparts, Arab monarchs also seemed better at “outfoxing” opposition parties that may have otherwise challenged their rule, using divideand-rule tactics to prevent them from exploiting openings created by popular protests.51 Indeed, Rex Brynen, Pete Moore, and Bassel Salloukh record how a multitude of scholars have cited the “adaptive behavior of Arab monarchies” as a source of strength and stability for these types of regimes compared with their counterparts, the Arab republics.52 Developing a better understanding of the process that caused opposition alliance collapse in Morocco and Mauritania intersects debates over the “monarchical exception” in the Arab world. Through what Theda Skocpol and Margaret Somers term a “parallel demonstration of theory,” this book has traced how Morocco and Mauritania—one monarchy, one presidency—utilized similar tactics to break opposition alliances.53 Both states used co-optation as a similar method to fend off opposition parties in alliances, which might later have otherwise lent their support to protesters who mobilized during the Arab uprisings. Although this variable of co-optation did not work alone, and likely worked in a complex way in tandem with other key factors that reinforced authoritarian rule, this book has shown how its importance transcended formal regime type to aid these two very different autocratic regimes. That is, these two authoritarian regimes with dissimilar regime types shattered opposition alliances between leftists and Islamists by way of a similar tactic to help reinforce their domination over politics. This finding suggests that variables other than monarchical institutions—notably a regime’s capacity to monopolize

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and manipulate clientelist rural politics—may also aid authoritarian resilience. While Arab autocracies that adopt either monarchical or presidential institutions may seem dissimilar, this book underlines that a crucial difference may be whether these regimes are buttressed on the traditional social structures of rural areas. This finding reinforces classic studies on how rural support could aid authoritarian regimes when, as John Waterbury notes, autocrats had “used conventional patron-client relations to prevent any kind of mobilization among the poorest, and most dependent, rural producers.”54 Unanswered Questions: Future Areas of Research This book raises unanswered questions, which signal the need for further research. These unanswered questions also reveal this study’s limitations. Foundational research on cross-ideological alliances that contest authoritarian regimes emphasizes that opposition parties’ capacity to internally justify alliances is a key reason such cooperation collapses or endures over time. That is, the leaders of opposition parties need to internally agree to put aside their ideological differences, policy disagreements, and historical conflicts (sometimes including political assassinations and violent skirmishes) to pursue grander goals realizable by collaborating in alliances. According to this study’s narrative of left-Islamist alliances in North Africa, these opposition parties held strikingly divergent ideologies and views on a range of policy issues. Key differences existed in the leftists’ and Islamists’ policy and programmatic platforms. Leftists and Islamists disagreed on family law reform and whether women should be considered “equal” or “complementary” to men in constitutional reforms. When leftists and Islamists allied in large cities, they developed conflicting priorities around cultural programs. For example, whereas Morocco’s leftists wanted to fund the colonial-era Spanish theater in the city of Tétouan, the Islamists opposed it, deeming its films inappropriate and risqué. Similarly, Islamists opposed some of the cultural activities and festivals supported by the leftists in Agadir. Also, the opposition parties had an acrimonious history. These events included the Islamist assassination of Omar Benjelloun in 1975 and skirmishes and other forms of left-Islamist violence at

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Moroccan universities throughout the 1980s and 1990s.55 In the 1990s, factions of the Ennahda Party in Tunisia fought leftists on campuses. In other MENA states, notably Egypt and Iran, the situation was worse when full-scale violence broke out between opposition groups adhering to leftist and Islamist ideologies.56 Are these ideological divergences or historical conflicts to blame for alliance failure between leftists and Islamists in North Africa? Per this book’s narrative, what is clear is that neither ideological disagreements nor acrimonious history took center stage in the course of events that produced alliance failure between leftists and Islamists. Rarely during the period of coalition cooperation between leftists and Islamists did ideological or programmatic conflicts even arise between these allies in North Africa. And when they did, these divergences did not supersede the potential benefits of collaboration in alliances. Rather, in this narrative, deep structural forces in the evolution of the parties’ social bases contributed to the collapse of left-Islamist alliances. By examining changes and realignments in the opposition parties’ social bases, we can better understand the durability of their alliances. While some scholars have insightfully looked to “discursive techniques” to explain how leftists and Islamists self-justify their involvement in cross-ideological alliances, opposition parties largely did not use such practices to sustain participation in coalitions in North Africa.57 Yet unanswered questions remain related to ideological change. Because this book has concentrated on explaining alliance outcomes, recounting why some coalitions collapsed while others endured, it underemphasizes how opposition parties’ ideologies and beliefs might evolve over time. Through increased interaction while opposition parties are embedded in coalitions, the inner politics of alliances could facilitate a cross-pollination of ideas during joint meetings and contestation. Scholars have stressed how greater exposure toward the other party’s opinions may foster moderation, mutual acceptance, and learning.58 Such evolution of ideologies could also emerge when the opposition parties achieve success in realizing their joint objectives. That is, if opposition parties allied in coalitions begin to secure their objectives through their joint acts of contestation, their opinions toward each other and each other’s ideological

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frameworks could moderate and converge toward tacit consensus (or perhaps even agreement). Since this study has focused mainly on explaining outcomes in variation in the durability of alliances, it leaves these complex ideological transformations underexamined. It does not fully address how the inner politics of alliances could affect and shape ideological change and evolution within opposition parties. Experts such as Carrie Rosefsky Wickham, Michaelle Browers, Stacey Philbrick-Yadav, and others have insightfully investigated this topic, yet it remains a fruitful future area of inquiry for scholars interested in left-Islamist opposition coordination in North Africa and beyond.59 Future studies could take up Jillian Schwedler’s important call to track not only how the existence of cross-ideological alliances signals moderation within some Islamist parties but also trace how it serves as a “mechanism that produces ideological moderation” itself.60 This book raises another unanswered question: Knowing that rural regions with deeply entrenched social structures have been regimes’ historic strongholds, why would opposition parties extend into such areas at all? If they began predominantly as urban opposition parties, why would they want to attract these new supporters? One main explanation emerges from this book, though future studies may further investigate this topic. Often opposition parties extended into rural areas historically under regime control to attract greater numbers of voters, thereby increasing their representation in elected institutions (like parliaments and communes). Relying on strength in urban areas alone often did not empower them to win enough seats to implement reforms they pledged in campaigns. However, unbeknownst to these oppositionists, the decision to extend into rural areas dominated by clientelism and illiteracy made their parties gradually more vulnerable to regime co-optation that ultimately undermined their capacity to be strong advocates for reform. This point raises an unresolved tension. By retaining an urban social base and not extending into rural areas, a party will likely remain a more reliable coalition ally and a more robust opposition organization. Yet in ignoring the concerns of rural citizens, the opposition party also simultaneously (whether directly or indirectly) perpetuates their disenfranchisement and voicelessness. There is something seemingly unjust or unfair that opposition parties should neglect the concerns of rural citizens—who

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may also ultimately want reform and liberation from clientelist bonds— in the interest of avoiding regime co-optation and preserving their own organization’s strength.61 To understand the durability of left-Islamist alliances, results herein stress the need to look beyond ideas and ideologies to examine an opposition party’s rural clientelist social base. Urban life dilutes such social structures, because citizens’ kinship ties deteriorate, marriage exogamy increases, and interpersonal anonymity proliferates. Yet it is possible that migrants may retain a legacy of such familial and clientelist relationships from their home regions that influence their beliefs and behavior. An additional avenue of future research extending this book might assess how much recent migrants to cities from the countryside adhere to such traditional social structures in the politics of urban areas. Any study focused on a handful of countries ought to assess generalizability of its findings to other contexts. To what extent do the dynamics explored in this book apply to alliances between opposition parties contesting other authoritarian regimes in the developing world more broadly and other leftist and Islamist parties in the MENA region specifically? While this study’s results pertain chiefly to Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania, the sites where research was undertaken, they could also carry implications for other authoritarian regimes in the Middle East and beyond. They apply mostly to regimes that preserved traditional social structures of rural areas during state building, making them their political strongholds. In both historical and contemporary examples of authoritarian regimes from across the world, many autocrats preserved clientelist hierarchies, which made rural areas mainstays of their rule. The classic example is monarchical France, where kings retained such underlying social structures to bolster traditional politicians that backed their rule. But these practices of state building also proliferated across sub-Saharan Africa, including in former authoritarian regimes that have since collapsed, like Senegal,62 as well as those governments still standing today, as in Cameroon and Niger.63 Often, autocrats of sub-Saharan Africa, as Catherine Boone notes, are “enthusiastic proponents of devolutions of political power that shore up conservative rural elites and thus work as a

210  ■  Why Alliances Fail

check on, and counterweight to, representative demands from urban civil society.”64 Likewise, autocrats that historically dominated Southeast Asia, especially in the Philippines, Malaysia, and Thailand, also depended on such ties with traditional politicians, who ruled similarly by “customary relationships” over citizens.65 Even during certain periods of Russian history, when the central regime appeared to weaken, some scholars have recorded how leaders bolstered traditional politicians to reinforce their control.66 Beyond Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania, other MENA autocrats have pursued state-building strategies that made traditional social structures of rural areas key to their systems of rule. Historically, Iranian autocrats encountered opposition from parties and movements based in large cities, yet they found allies among traditional politicians who controlled rural citizens without, as Kazemi and Abrahamian explain, the “social independence needed for challenging the authority of the central government.”67 Likewise, in Jordan, the regime preserved traditional social structures, leading to dynamics in which opposition emerges in Amman and other large cities, while the regime’s loyalists hail predominantly from East Bank rural areas. Indeed, as Sean Yom writes, such areas serve as the “the heart of the tribal countryside historically allied with the crown.”68 Similarly, even though oil and other natural mineral resources have transformed the political economies of the Gulf states, several of their ruling autocrats—notably those leading Kuwait, Oman, and Saudi Arabia—rely on the loyalty of traditional politicians representing specific tribal groups from outlying areas.69 However, in other MENA regimes, the nature of opposition parties’ social bases—and especially their relationship to clientelist hierarchies of rural areas—may carry less importance in shaping their capacity to build enduring alliances. Indeed, issues of Christian-Muslim conflict and Islamic sectarian disputes may intersect relations between leftists and Islamists in other Arab countries, notably Egypt, Syria, and Lebanon. Opposition to the prospect of maintaining long-term, enduring alliances between leftists and Islamists may bisect disputes between politicians representing different religious or sectarian dominations, who fear Islamists will impose Islam on non-Muslims (or Sunni Islam upon non-Sunni Muslims). As

Conclusion  ■  211

Ellen Lust writes, this approach is one way that Arab autocrats “exploited the fear of political Islam” to convince “secularist opponents that they were better off with the current regime than with Islamist rule.”70 Moreover, the tiny geographic area and intense urbanization of some Gulf states, such as Qatar, Bahrain, and the United Arab Emirates, probably limit the realistic importance of social structures of rural areas. Because this study analyzed cases of left-Islamist alliances in three North African states without religious diversity and with relatively large geographic areas, these complicating factors were controlled for in the comparative framework. Yet they likely play a role in other MENA countries, which lessens the explanatory power of this book’s theory to these contexts. Because Algeria is a neighboring country in North Africa, it seems natural to also assess how this book’s theory of left-Islamist alliance durability might apply to this context. Several scholars, notably Michael Willis, have discussed the emergence of a pact between Algeria’s leftists and Islamists, what became known as the Sant’Egidio Platform. As Algeria’s civil war intensified in the mid-1990s and bloodshed increased, a Romebased Christian association dedicated to peace and dialogue—the Community of Sant’Egidio—sought to facilitate a compromise in 1995 among the country’s political factions. Participants in the dialogue included numerous Algerian leftist and Islamist parties as well as the former ruling party, the National Liberation Front, whose power had waned after the 1991 elections. The Sant’Egidio Platform’s parties aimed to end armed conflict and restore elections, but, ultimately, the military and several armed nonparty Islamist groups’ noncommittal and intransigent reactions caused negotiations to fail.71 It is difficult to compare this Algerian example with alliances from this book, however. The foremost reason is that it was forged in the midst of an intractable, bloody civil war, which was not present in Tunisia, Morocco, or Mauritania, and the Algeria parties operated under intense international pressure for peaceful conflict resolution. From this perspective, negotiations between Algeria’s parties resemble interactions between Syria’s parties during its civil war, more than coalitions between opposition parties in Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania. Second, Algeria’s colonization was much longer and more intense than in most Arab countries.

212  ■  Why Alliances Fail

That the French meted out “systematic destruction of tribal units” to “recreate Algerians in their own image,” as J. N. C. Hill observes, means that this book’s theory of rural, clientelist politics unlikely applies to this context. This variable was unlikely to have played an important role in why the alliance between Algeria’s leftists and Islamists failed.72 Since 2011 numerous articles and books have sought to examine the consequences of the Arab uprisings and their aftermath on regimeopposition relations in the MENA region. Many of the works that have grabbed headlines examine Egypt and Tunisia, where some sort of political change did take place. Especially critical in Tunisia, a stable alliance between leftists and Islamists began in 2005, aided regime change in 2011, and eased the democratic transition afterward until 2014. Though uncertainty remains palpable in Tunisia, the Troika Alliance that emerged and endured between its leftists and Islamists played a positive role in facilitating democratization. It provided a common platform of consensus, allowing opposition parties with divergent ideologies and interests to cooperate. More generally, ordinary citizens also came to view the Troika as an exemplar of compromise, enduring throughout turbulent times. Equally important, however, scholars should look to cases of similar alliances that formed yet failed, not living up to their promise as vehicles of compromise. In explaining why such alliances failed, and the autocratic strategies undertaken to shatter them, this book hopes to have shown how regimes can effectively manipulate social structures of traditional forces of clientelism, illiteracy, and rural politics to combat and undermine opposition parties. In this way, it explores the social origins of these regime strategies that undercut opposition parties committed to democratic reform.

Appendixes Notes Bibliography Index

Appendix A

Utilized Arabic and French Newspapers and Magazines Morocco Actuel ‘Adala Jousit Akhbar al-Youm Annhar al-Maghribia Aujourd’hui le Maroc al-Furqaan Hespress.com al-Islah al-Jarida Jaridat al-Itihaad al-Ishtiraaki Jaridat al-Oula Le Journal Hebdomadaire Lakome.com Maghreb al-Yom Majallat al-Mashad Majallat al-Oula Maroc-Hebdo International al-Mashad al-Massae Puce al-Rai Le Reporter as-Sabah at-Tajdid Telquel Le Temps 215

216  ■  Appendix A Mauritania Akhbaar Nouakchott al-Akhbar L’Authentique Quotidien Elhouriya el-Emel El-Jedid Essahifa Essebil L’Essentiel des Points Chauds du Maghreb et de l’Afrique Francophone es-Essirage al-Fajr Jaridat Chouaa al-Moostaqubal al-Murataani Le Rénovateur La Tribune Tunisia al-Fajr Jaridat Assarih As-Sabah Le Temps www.sabahnews.tn

Appendix B

Cited Interviews (listed in order of appearance)

No.

Date

Name

Title

Place

1

10/05/2011

Samir Ben Amor

secretariat general member CPR party; CPR secretary general

Tunis, Tunisia

2

10/09/2011

Lahcen Daoudi

PJD parliamentary leader; minister of higher education

Rabat, Morocco

3

07/07/2011

Abdelilah Benkirane

PJD party president; Moroccan prime minister

Rabat, Morocco

4

05/10/2014

Zakaria Boubari

USFP regional president; communal representative for Midelt commune

Midelt, Morocco

5

02/04/2012

Moustapha Ould Badredine

UFP acting party president; parliamentary deputy

Nouakchott, Mauritania

6

01/10/2012

Ahmedou Ba

National Democratic Institute—Mauritania

Nouakchott, Mauritania

7

01/20/2012

Aminetou Mint El Moktar

UFP secretariat general; former Kadahine

Nouakchott, Mauritania

8

01/22/2012

Ahmed Wadia

Tawassoul secretariat member; es-Sirage editor

Nouakchott, Mauritania

9

10/27/2011

Abdellatif Abid

minister of education; member of Ettakatol secretariat general

Tunis, Tunisia

10

07/01/2011

Mohamed el-Yazghi

USFP party president; minister of state

Rabat, Morocco

11

01/06/2011

Abdelaziz Aftati

PJD parliamentary deputy

Oujda, Morocco

12

07/27/2009

Bassima Hakkoui

PJD secretariat general member; minister of solidarity, women, family, and social development; parliamentary deputy

Casablanca, Morocco

13

06/20/2011

Mohammed Achaari

USFP secretariat general member; minister of culture

Rabat, Morocco

217

218  ■  Appendix B No.

Date

Name

Title

Place

14

04/12/2011

Najib Wazani

PAM cofounder; former secretariat general member

Rabat, Morocco

15

07/23/2013

Aziz el-Ouadie

PAM secretariat general member

Casablanca, Morocco

16

01/25/2011

Mohamed Elkennoudi

external relations of Socialist Unified Party

Casablanca, Morocco

17

01/12/2011

Mustapha el-Khalfi

PJD minister of communications; editor at-Tajdid newspaper

Rabat, Morocco

18

07/21/2013

Abdellatif Zahar

PAM communal representative and campaign organizer

Casablanca, Morocco

19

07/23/2013

Ihssan el-Hafidi

journalist, as-Sabah newspaper

Casablanca, Morocco

20

07/23/2013

Salaheddine Aboughali

PAM mayor of Mediouna

Casablanca, Morocco

21

01/22/2012

Mohamed Lemine Moussa

Tawassoul external and international relations official

Nouakchott, Mauritania

22

10/03/2011

Makdad Arbawi

Ennahda public relations press officer

Tunis, Tunisia

23

10/02/2011

Habib Ziedi

Tunisian Communist Workers’ Party

Tunis, Tunisia

24

10/20/2011

Anonymous Election Official

Tunisian Election Commission, Nabul II Electoral District

Nabul, Tunisia

25

11/05/2011

Rym Mourali

vice president and cofounder of initiative party

Tunis, Tunisia

26

10/24/2011

Ahmed Jalloul

Ennahda Constituent Assembly candidate

Nabul, Tunisia

27

10/01/2011

Mohamed Bennour

chief of staff, Constituent Assembly president Mustapha Ben Jaafar, Ettakatol Party president

Tunis, Tunisia

28

03/03/2011

Rachid Lazrak

chief of research and studies, Minister Driss Lachgar’s office, Ministry of Parliamentary Relations, USFP party

Rabat, Morocco

29

07/26/2011

Rachid Balafraj

chief of staff, Minister of State Mohamed el-Yazghi, USFP party

Rabat, Morocco

30

08/02/2011

Ilyas el-Omari

vice president, PAM party

Rabat, Morocco

31

06/2010

Anonymous

high-ranking leftist leader

Rabat, Morocco

Cited Interviews  ■  219 No.

Date

Name

Title

Place

32

07/18/2013

Khadija el-Manfalouti

PAM communal representative

Casablanca, Morocco

33

05/27/2014

Mohamed Boughlem

PAM communal mayor of Ighzrane; parliamentary deputy

Rabat, Morocco

34

05/19/2014

Anonymous

USFP local party president; communal representative in Ighzrane

Ribate el-Kheir, Morocco

35

05/23/2014

Abdelsamad al-Qurashi

USFP local party president; communal representative in Mghassiyine

Meknès, Morocco

36

02/07/2012

Jemil Ould Mansour

Party president, Tawassoul Party

Nouakchott, Mauritania

37

02/02/2012

Mohamed M’barek

Tawassoul secretariat general member

Nouakchott, Mauritania

38

03/03/2012

Mohamed Chamikh

UPR secretariat general member

Nouakchott, Mauritania

39

03/01/2012

Moussa Demba Sow

mayor of Kaedi, UPR cofounder

Nouakchott, Mauritania

40

01/23/2012

Habib Ould Hamdit

Tawassoul Party organizational director

Nouakchott, Mauritania

41

01/29/2012

Mohamed Said Ould Hamody

former Mauritanian ambassador to the United States

Nouakchott, Mauritania

42

04/13/2011

Najib Boulif

PJD minister of general affairs and good governance and parliamentary deputy

Rabat, Morocco

43

07/01/2011

Abdelali Hamidine

PJD secretariat general member; parliamentary deputy

Rabat, Morocco

44

02/24/2011

Larbi Telmoudi

USFP regional party president; communal representative in Agadir

Agadir, Morocco

45

02/23/2011

Mohamed Hafidi

USFP party president and communal representative

Agadir, Morocco

46

06/02/2011

Ahmed Benkhobza

PJD local party president; communal representative; parliamentary deputy

Tétouan, Morocco

47

05/30/2011

Abdelkarim Zakaria

PJD vice mayor of Tétouan

Tétouan, Morocco

48

02/15/2012

Ahmed Salem Ould Ahmed

UFP vice mayor of Toujounine commune

Nouakchott, Mauritania

220  ■  Appendix B No.

Date

Name

Title

Place

49

02/16/2012

Hawa Adama Diallo

UFP, vice mayor of urban commune of Nouakchott

Nouakchott, Mauritania

50

01/18/2012

Ahmed Ould Hamza

mayor of Nouakchott

Nouakchott, Mauritania

51

02/20/2012

Mohamed Lemine Ould Cherif Ahmed

Tawassoul mayor of Tajounine commune

Nouakchott, Mauritania

52

07/12/2011

Abdelilah Dahmane

Islamist union (UNTM) vice president and president of UNTM teachers’ federation

Rabat, Morocco

53

07/25/2011

Abderrahmane Azzouzi

leftist FDT union president

Mohammedia, Morocco

54

03/10/2012

Samoury Ould Beye

CLTM union president

Nouakchott, Mauritania

55

07/15/2015

Tarik Rmili

USFP National Congress representative

Casablanca, Morocco

56

07/18/2015

Houria Tazi Sadq

Former USFP National Congress representative; cofounder of Democratic Alternative Party

Casablanca, Morocco

57

04/14/2011

Mostafa Ramid

minister of justice; PJD secretariat general member; parliamentary deputy

Casablanca, Morocco

Notes Introduction 1. Guillermo O’Donnell and Philippe C. Schmitter, Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Tentative Conclusions about Uncertain Democracies. 2. Samir Ben Amor, Congress for the Republic Party, interview by the author, Oct. 5, 2011, Tunis, Tunisia. 3. Koenraad Bogaert, “The Revolt of Small Towns: The Meaning of Morocco History and Geography of Social Protests,” 1–7. 4. Reda Dalil, “Les fous du phosphate,” Le Temps, July 23, 2011, 19–21. 5. Bread riots rocked Tunisia, Morocco, and Mauritania in the 1980s. See David Seddon, Free Markets and Food Riots: The Politics of Global Adjustment, 171–208; and Seddon, “The Politics of Adjustment in Morocco,” 241. 6. For an excellent analysis and history of Morocco’s Islamist party, the Party of Justice and Development (PJD), see Eva Wegner, Islamist Opposition in Authoritarian States: The Party of Justice and Development in Morocco. 7. Abdelhaq Balshakr, “Jama‘a al-Moatasim . . . min as-sijin ila al-qasar,” Akhbar alyom 372 (Feb. 19–20, 2011): 1. 8. Saadeddine Othmani is the Islamist party’s popular, moderate former secretarygeneral. He currently serves as Morocco’s prime minister, starting in 2017. For his participation in the protests of March 2011, see “Benkirane yu’ajjil dawrat al-majlis al-waTanii,” Maghreb al-yom, Mar. 18–24, 2011, 6. See also interview with Saadedine Othamni, “RaHabnaa ‘awdat ash-shabaab ila al-ihtimaam bisha’n al-‘aam,” al-Mashad, Apr. 1–7, 2011, 25. 9. Lahcen Daoudi, PJD parliamentary leader, interview by the author, Oct. 9, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 10. For another interpretation, see Frédéric Volpi, Revolution and Authoritarianism in North Africa, 96–97. 11. Abdelwahad Radi, party president, Socialist Union of Popular Forces headquarters general assembly public meeting, July 18, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 12. Maha Abdelrahman, “With the Islamists?—Sometimes. With the State?—Never!’: Cooperation between Leftists and Islamists in Egypt,” 45. Other ideology-based theories

221

222  ■  Notes to Pages 5–9 include Michaelle L. Browers, Political Ideology in the Arab World: Accommodation and Transformation. Some arguments bridge ideology and institutional theories. For example, see Stacey Philbrick Yadav, Islamists and the State: Legitimacy and Institutions in Yemen and Lebanon. 13. Jennifer Gandhi, “Coordination among Opposition Parties in Authoritarian Regimes,” 14. See also Jennifer Gandhi and Ora John Reuter, “The Incentives for Pre-electoral Coalitions in Non-democratic Elections,” 145–46; and Jennifer Gandhi, “The Role of Presidential Power in Authoritarian Elections,” 206. For Egypt, see Dina Shehata, Islamists and Secularists in Egypt: Opposition, Conflict, and Cooperation. 14. Ellen Lust-Okar, Structuring Conflict in the Arab World, 36–67; Ellen Lust-Okar and Amaney Ahmad Jamal, “Rulers and Rules: Re-assessing the Influence of Regime Type on Electoral Law Formation.” 15. Catherine Boone, Political Topographies of the African State: Territorial Authority and Institutional Choice, 359. 16. Richard Snyder, “Scaling Down: The Subnational Comparative Method.” 17. See Appendix B for the approximately sixty interviews cited herein. 18. Because the majority of political actors interviewed for this book were public figures, mostly elected politicians or party officials, they were accustomed to interviews and to reading their names in print. Thus, I have not, in general, used anonymity unless requested. 19. Some prominent examples of books using a similar snowball sampling method include Joshua Stacher, Adaptable Autocrats: Regime Power in Egypt and Syria, 26–27; Jillian Schwedler, Faith in Moderation: Islamist Parties in Jordan and Yemen, 31–32; and Melani Cammett, Globalization and Business Politics in Arab North Africa, 219–20. 20. See Appendix A for local Arabic and French newspapers cited herein. 21. Lise Blaydes, Elections and Distributive Politics in Mubarak’s Egypt; Amaney Jamal, Barriers to Democracy: The Other Side of Social Capital in Palestine and the Arab World. 22. A few nonexhaustive examples include Jason Brownlee, Authoritarianism in an Age of Democratization; Michael D. Driessen, Religion and Democratization: Framing Religious and Political Identities in Muslim and Catholic Societies; and Aria Lawrence, Imperial Rule and the Politics of Nationalism: Anti-colonial Protest in the French Empire. 23. The data set draws on previously unreleased statistics from electoral candidate rolls obtained from the both countries’ Interior Ministries and translated from Arabic into English. 24. Morocco’s main leftist party is known by its French acronym, USFP (Union socialiste des forces populaires). 25. See, for example, Clement Henry Moore, Politics in North Africa: Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia, 24; John Entelis, Comparative Politics of North Africa, 15–16; and Michael Willis, Politics and Power in the Maghreb: Algeria, Tunisia, and Morocco from Independent to the Arab Spring.

Notes to Pages 9–16  ■  223 26. On Algeria, see Michael Willis, The Islamist Challenge in Algeria; Ricardo René Larémont, Islam and the Politics of Resistance, 1783–1992; and Frédéric Volpi, Islam and Democracy: the Failure of Dialogue in Algeria. 27. Miriam R. Lowi, Oil Wealth and the Poverty of Politics: Algeria Compared. 28. An additional constraint was that the author was unable to gain research access to Algeria on two separate attempts for fieldwork. 29. Charles Tilly, Big Structures, Large Processes, Huge Comparisons, 80. 30. Francesco Cavatorta, “‘Divided They Stand, Divided They Fail’: Opposition Politics in Morocco”; Eva Wegner and Miquel Pellicer, “Left-Islamist Opposition Cooperation in Morocco”; Bruce Maddy-Weitzman, “Historic Departure or Temporary Marriage? The LeftIslamist Alliance in Tunisia.” 31. Mounira Charrad, States and Women’s Rights, 17–27; Elbaki Hermassi, Leadership and National Development in North Africa: A Comparative Study. 32. Janine Clark, “Threats, Structures, and Resources: Cross-Ideological Coalition Building in Jordan”; Janine Clark, “The Conditions of Islamist Moderation: Unpacking Cross-ideological Cooperation in Jordan,” 540. 1. Understanding Alliances 1. Larry Diamond, Developing Democracy: Toward Consolidation, 25. 2. Tilly, Big Structures, Large Processes, 74–86. 3. Maria Josua, “Co-optation Reconsidered: Authoritarian Regime Legitimation Strategies in the Jordanian ‘Arab Spring,’” 1–2. 4. Some examples include Holger Albrecht, Raging against the Machine: Political Opposition under Authoritarianism in Egypt, 13–37; Stacher, Adaptable Autocrats, 22; and Josua, “Co-optation Reconsidered,” 1–2. Also outside the MENA, see Jennifer Gandhi and Adam Przeworski, “Authoritarian Institutions and the Survival of Autocrats,” 1282–83. 5. Jillian Schwedler and Janine A. Clark, “Islamist-Leftist Cooperation in the Arab World,” 10. 6. French acronyms will be used for political parties, as known commonly among North Africa scholars. Hence, this book labels Tunisia’s leftist party, the Congrès pour la République, as CPR and not its English acronym, CRP. For some specific parties, Arabic names are more in use. Thus, the names Tawassoul Party and Ettakatol Party are used rather than their French acronyms. 7. Holly McCammon and Karen Campbell, “Allies on the Road to Victory: Coalition Formation between Suffragists and the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union,” 231–33; Suzanne Staggenborg, “Coalition Work in the Pro-Choice Movement: Organizational and Environmental Opportunities and Obstacles,” 374–90; David S. Meyer, A Winter of Discontent: The Nuclear Freeze and American Politics; David S. Meyer and Catherine

224  ■  Notes to Pages 16–19 Corrigall-Brown, “Coalitions and Political Context: U.S. Movements against Wars in Iraq,” 327–29. 8. Doug McAdam, Sidney Tarrow, and Charles Tilly, Dynamics of Contention, 41–47. 9. Sidney Tarrow, Power in Movement, 26–29. See also Sidney Tarrow, Democracy and Disorder: Protest and Politics in Italy, 1965–1975. 10. Nella Van Dyke, “Crossing Movement Boundaries: Factors That Facilitate Coalition Protest by American College Students, 1930–1990,” 226–27. 11. Clark, “Threats, Structures, and Resources,” 101; Clark, “Conditions of Islamist Moderation,” 540. 12. O’Donnell and Schmitter, Transitions from Authoritarian Rule. 13. Marc Morjé Howard and Philip G. Roessler, “Liberalizing Electoral Outcomes in Competitive Authoritarian States.” 14. Jennifer Gandhi and Ellen Lust-Okar, “Elections under Authoritarianism,” 412. 15. Gandhi, “Coordination among Opposition Parties,” 14. See also Gandhi and Reuter, “Incentives for Pre-electoral Coalitions.” 16. Gandhi, “Coordination among Opposition Parties,” 14. 17. Gandhi, “Role of Presidential Power,” 206. 18. Nicolas Van de Walle, “Tipping Games: When Do Opposition Parties Coalesce?,” 77–94. 19. Gandhi, “Coordination among Opposition Parties,” 14; Gandhi and Reuter, “Incentives for Pre-electoral Coalitions,” 145–46; Gandhi, “Role of Presidential Power,” 206. 20. Thanks to Francesco Cavatorta for this insightful observation. 21. Francesco Cavatorta and Fabio Merone, “Salafism after the Arab Awakening: Contending with People’s Power,” 2. 22. D. Shehata, Islamists and Secularists in Egypt, 13–17. 23. Dina Shehata, “Islamists and Non-Islamists in the Egyptian Opposition: Patterns of Conflict and Cooperation,” 3; D. Shehata, Islamists and Secularists in Egypt, 140. 24. Lust and Jamal, “Rulers and Rules,” 345–46. See also Brownlee, Authoritarianism in an Age of Democratization, 39–42. 25. Gregory Gause, “Kings for All Seasons: How the Middle East’s Monarchies Survived the Arab Spring,” 13. See also Lisa Anderson, “Absolutism and the Resilience of Monarchies in the Middle East,” 1–15. 26. Lust-Okar, Structuring Conflict, 6–7. See also Ellen Lust-Okar, “The Management of Opposition: Formal Structures of Contestation and Informal Political Manipulation in Egypt, Jordan, and Morocco,” 40–48. 27. Lust’s study terms these two concepts either “divided structures of contestation” or “unified structures of contestation.” See Lust, Structuring Conflict, 36–67. 28. Albrecht, Raging against the Machine, 25–37. See also Lust Structuring Conflict, 18; and Lust-Okar, “Management of Opposition,” 41. 29. I. William Zartman, “Opposition as Support of the State,” 71.

Notes to Pages 19–25  ■  225 30. Lust and Jamal, “Rulers and Rules,” 351–54. 31. Michaelle Browers, “Origins and Architects of Yemen’s Joint Meeting Parties,” 566. 32. Clark, “Threats, Structures, and Resources,” 102. 33. Some definitions of alliances focus narrowly on preelectoral coalitions. Such a definition is less useful here, because it cannot be easily deployed to gauge durability of alliances in contexts with limited elections (such as labor politics). 34. Hypothetically, opposition parties could forge alliances secretly. The difficulty of observing such alliances makes them challenging to study systematically. 35. Quintan Wiktorowicz, Islamic Activism: A Social Movement Theory Approach, 1–5. See also Carrie Rosefsky Wickham, Mobilizing Islam: Religion, Activism, and Political Change in Egypt, 4–6; Janine A. Clark, Islam, Charity, and Activism: Middle-Class Networks and Social Welfare in Egypt, Jordan, and Yemen, 33; and Glenn Robinson, “Hamas as a Social Movement,” 112–43. 36. Carrie Rosefsky Wickham, The Muslim Brotherhood: Evolution of an Islamist Movement, 59–67; Carrie Rosefsky Wickham, “Islamic Mobilization and Political Change: The Islamist Trend in Egypt’s Professional Association,” 120–35; Christopher Alexander, “Opportunities, Organizations, and Ideas: Islamists and Workers in Tunisia and Algeria.” 37. Marc Lynch, “New Islamic Media,” 3–5; Marc Lynch, “After Egypt: The Limits and Promise of Online Challenges to the Authoritarian Arab State,” 301–2. 38. Clark, Islam, Charity, and Activism, 16; Steven Brooke, “From Medicine to Mobilization: Social Service Provision and Islamist Reputational Advantage,” 42–61. 39. John Pierre Entelis, Islam, Democracy, and the State in North Africa, xviii. 40. Eva Wegner and Miquel Pellicer, “Islamist Moderation without Democratization: The Coming of Age of the Moroccan Party of Justice and Development,” 159–67; Wegner, Islamist Opposition, xxxviii–xxxix. 41. Sheri Berman, “Islamism, Revolution, and Civil Society,” 259–61. 42. Jillian Schwedler, “Can Islamists Become Moderates? Rethinking the InclusionModeration Hypothesis,” 349. 43. A. Kadir Yildirim, Muslim Democratic Parties in the Middle East: Economy and Politics of Islamist Moderation. 44. Abderrahim el-Maslouhi, “La gauche marocaine, défenseure du trône: Sur les métamorphoses d’une opposition institutionnelle,” 6–7, 11. 45. Consider Egypt’s Socialist Labor Party that exhibits a “rather bizarre ideological mixture of Islamism and socialism.” Albrecht, Raging against the Machine, 48. 46. By examining nonviolent parties only, this study controls for the fact that regimes may have distinct strategies for dealing with organizations that use armed resistance. 47. Andrew George and Andrew Bennett, Case Studies and Theory Development in the Social Sciences, 121–23, 147–49. 48. Ricardo René Larémont, “Justice and Benevolence Party,” 666–67. 49. Ibid., 668–69.

226  ■  Notes to Pages 25–33 50. Mohamed Masbah, “Salafi Movements and the Political Process in Morocco,” 86–87. 51. Paul Pierson, “Big, Slow-Moving and Invisible: Macrosocial Processes in the Study of Comparative Politics,” 179–81. 52. Raymond Hinnebusch has noted this fact. See his “Change and Continuity after the Arab Uprising: The Consequences of State Formation in Arab North African States.” 53. Seymour Martin Lipset, Political Man: The Social Bases of Politics, 1, 105–6. 54. Charrad, States and Women’s Rights, 21–27; Mounira M. Charrad, “Central and Local Patrimonialism: State-Building in Kin-Based Societies,” 50–55. 55. Hilton L. Root, Peasants and King: Agrarian Foundations of French Absolutism, 218. 56. Leonard Binder, In a Moment of Enthusiasm: Political Power and the Second Stratum in Egypt, 12–16. 57. Farhad Kazemi and Ervand Abrahamian, “The Non-revolutionary Peasantry of Modern Iran,” 292–93. 58. David Waldner, “Rural Incorporation and Regime Survival,” 1–2. 59. James Sater, Civil Society and Political Change in Morocco, 36. 60. Samuel Huntington, Political Order in Changing Societies, 292. 61. Seymour Martin Lipset, “Some Social Requisites of Democracy: Economic Development and Political Legitimacy.” 62. Adam Przeworski et al., “What Makes Democracies Endure?” 63. S. M. Lipset and S. Rokkan, “Cleavage Structures, Party Systems, and Voter Alignments: An Introduction,” 122–27. 64. R. J. Dalton, S. Flanagan, and P. Beck, “Electoral Change in Advanced Democracies,” 455. 65. James Wilson and Edward Banfield, City Politics, 40–41; Martin Shefter, Political Parties and the State, 30. 66. Ronald Inglehart and Christian Welzel, Modernization, Cultural Change, and Democracy. 67. Barrington Moore, Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy, 418. 68. Although Morocco’s and Mauritania’s regimes’ social bases remain predominantly rural, some evidence indicates that they have made inroads with capitalist elites over time. See Melani Cammett, “Fat Cats and Self-Made Men: Globalization and the Paradoxes of Collective Action,” 384–90; and Myriam Catusse, Le temps des entrepreneurs? Politique et transformations du capitalisme au Maroc. 69. Robert Dahl, Polyarchy, 12. 70. McAdam, Tarrow, and Tilly, Dynamics of Contention, 14–20. 71. Daniel Lerner, The Passing of Traditional Society, 43–50. 72. A few well-known (though nonexhaustive) works include Steven Heydemann, “Upgrading Authoritarianism in the Arab World”; Stephen Juan King, The New Authoritarianism in the Middle East and North Africa, 3–30; Eva Bellin, “The Robustness of

Notes to Pages 34–38  ■  227 Authoritarianism in the Middle East: Exceptionalism in Comparative Perspective,” 139–57; and Eva Bellin, “Reconsidering the Robustness of Authoritarianism in the Middle East: Lessons from the Arab Spring,” 127–49. 73. Communes are lowest-level governmental units that govern municipalities, wards, and village districts, which are equivalent to local governments in the United States. Communes have an elected council of communal representatives that elects a mayor (through an internal majority vote of communal representatives). 74. Richard Snyder, “Scaling Down,” 93–95. 75. In Mauritania, most names include the term “Ould” or “Mint” (i.e. “son of ” or “daughter of ”) between an individual’s first and family names to convey patrilineal descent. For simplicity, this book uses Ould (or Mint) the first time it introduces a name but omits it thereafter. The book’s index alphabetizes those names under Ould or Mint. 76. To distinguish clearly the two concepts of a regime’s ruling coalition and opposition coalitions between parties, I have chosen to use the term group of internal supporters for the first concept. See Sean Yom, From Resilience to Revolution: How Foreign Interventions Destabilize the Middle East, for a survey of research on ruling coalitions. 77. Ibid., 27–31. See also King, New Authoritarianism, 7–10. 78. Mehran Kamrava, The Modern Middle East, 213–14. 79. Brownlee, Authoritarianism in an Age of Democracy, 7–10. 80. Stacher, Adaptable Autocrats, 40–43. 81. Albrecht, Raging Against the Machine, 19, 39. 82. Jennifer Gandhi and Adam Przeworski, “Cooperation, Cooptation, and Rebellion under Dictatorships.” 83. Josua, “Co-optation Reconsidered,” 32–56; Stacher, Adaptable Autocrats, 22. 84. John Waterbury, “Endemic and Planned Corruption in a Monarchical Regime,” 545; Volker Perthes, Arab Elites: Negotiating the Politics of Change, 6. 85. Frédéric Variel, “Protesting in Authoritarian Situations: Egypt and Morocco in Comparative Perspective,” 33–34; Francesco Cavatorta and Emanuela Dalmasso, “Liberal Outcomes through Undemocratic Means: The Reform of the Code de Statut personnel in Morocco,” 487–89; King, New Authoritarianism, 74–75. 86. Anouar Boukhars, Politics in Morocco: Executive Monarchy and Enlightened Authoritarianism, 75–78; Guilain Denoeux, “Morocco,” 428. 87. Cédric Jourde, “‘The President Is Coming to Visit!’: Dramas and the Hijack of Democratization in the Islamic Republic of Mauritania,” 436; M. Marty, “Mauritania: Political Parties, Neo-patrimonialism, and Democracy,” 103. 88. Brownlee, Authoritarianism in an Age of Democracy, 132. 89. Ora John Reuter, “The Politics of Dominant Party Formation: United Russia and Russia’s Governors,” 293–95. 90. Stacher, Adaptable Autocrats, 22.

228  ■  Notes to Pages 39–43 2. Rural Regimes, Urban Regimes 1. Charrad, States and Women’s Rights, 23. 2. Dale F. Eickelman, “What Is a Tribe?,” 116–18; Philip S. Khoury and Joseph Kostiner, Tribe and State in the Middle East, 6–7. 3. Charrad, Sates and Women’s Rights, 23. 4. Clement Henry Moore, Tunisia since Independence, 3; Clement Henry Moore, “The Neo-Destour Party of Tunisia: A Structure for Democracy?,” 468–72. Works by Clement Henry authored under the name Clement Henry Moore until 1995. See also Manfred Halpern, The Politics of Social Change in the Middle East and North Africa. 5. Michael Lipton, Why Poor People Stay Poor: Urban Bias in World Development, 13–24. 6. Mark Tessler, “Morocco: Institutional Pluralism and Monarchical Dominance,” 38. 7. C. Moore, Politics in North Africa, 22–25. 8. Henri de Montety, “Old Families and New Elites in Tunisia,” 171–72. 9. Entelis, Comparative Politics of North Africa, 15–16. 10. Montety, “Old Families and New Elites,” 174–75; Douglas Ashford, National Development and Local Reform: Morocco, Tunisia, Pakistan, 64. 11. C. Moore, Politics in North Africa, 45. 12. Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 65. 13. Clement Henry Moore, “Politics in a Tunisian Village,” 528. 14. C. Moore, Politics in North Africa, 69. 15. Douglas E. Ashford, Morocco-Tunisia: Politics and Planning, 27–28. 16. C. Moore, Politics in North Africa, 165; Ashford, Morocco-Tunisia, 20. 17. C. Moore, Tunisia since Independence, 53. 18. E. Hermassi, Leadership and National Development, 76–82, 213–14. 19. C. Moore, Tunisia since Independence, 68–69. 20. Keith Callard, “The Republic of Bourguiba,” 26. 21. Clement Henry, “Tunisia’s ‘Sweet Little Rogue’ Regime,” 310. 22. Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 72. 23. C. Moore, Tunisia since Independence, 61–70. 24. Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 73–74, 75; Callard, “The Republic of Bourguiba,” 24. 25. C. Moore, Tunisia Since Independence, 3. See also C. Moore, “Neo-Destour Party,” 465–66. 26. C. Moore, “Neo-Destour Party,” 461–80. 27. Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 74. 28. Moshe Gershovitch, “French Control over the Moroccan Countryside: The Transformation of the Goums, 1934–1942,” 124; C. R. Pennell, Morocco since 1830: A History, 217; John Waterbury, Commander of the Faithful: The Moroccan Elite—a Study in Segmented Politics, 37.

Notes to Pages 43–47  ■  229 29. C. Moore, Politics in North Africa, 1970. 30. Susan Waltz, Human Rights and Reform, 52. 31. Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 26–27. See also Lawrence, Imperial Rule and the Politics of Nationalism, 42–43. 32. William A. Hoisington, “French Rule and the Moroccan Elite,” 139. 33. William A. Hoisington, Lyautey and the French Conquest of Morocco, 50. 34. Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 28–30. 35. Ibid., 26. 36. C. R. Pennell, Morocco: From Empire to Independence, 121; Paul Puschmann, Casablanca: A Demographic Miracle on Moroccan Soil?, 54. 37. Hoisington, “French Rule,” 140, 161. 38. William H. Lewis, “Rural Administration in Morocco,” 50. 39. Waterbury, Commander of the Faithful, 255. 40. I. William Zartman, Problems of New Power: Morocco, 200, 209–10; Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 41, 45. 41. Zartman, Problems of New Power, 210; Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 41. 42. Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 34. 43. Mohamed Darif, Al-aHzaab as-siyaasiyyah al-maghribiyyah, 191. 44. Zartman, Problems of New Power, 210. 45. Lewis, “Rural Administration in Morocco,” 50. 46. Zartman, Problems of New Power, 210–11, 212. 47. Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 45. 48. Zartman, Problems of New Power, 213–14. 49. Ibid., 232, 234. 50. Douglas E. Ashford, “Elections in Morocco: Progress or Confusion?,” 12–13. See also Paul Chambergeat, “Les élections communales marocaines du 29 mai 1960,” 110–14. 51. Paul Chambergeat, “The Moroccan Communal Elections,” 265. Because of a post he held within Morocco’s Interior Ministry, Leveau wrote under a series of noms de plume from 1959 to 1965. These names included Octave Marais, Hubert Breton, Paul Chambergeat, Jules Aubin, and Jim Aubin. Leveau’s seminal work is Le Fellah marocain défenseur du trône. 52. Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 49. 53. Cammett, Globalization and Business Politics, 91. 54. Azzedine Layachi, “Economic Reform and Elusive Political Change in Morocco,” 46. 55. Waterbury, Commander of the Faithful, 256. 56. Ibid., 259–60, 247. 57. Clement Henry Moore, “The Maghrib,” 589.

230  ■  Notes to Pages 47–51 58. Mustapha Sehimi, Guedira: Fidélité et engagement, 110–11. 59. Waterbury, Commander of the Faithful, 262. 60. Saloua Zerhouni, “The Moroccan Parliament,” 233. 61. Paul Chambergeat, “Les élections communales au Maroc,” 125; Waterbury, Commander of the Faithful, 261. 62. Chambergeat, “Élections communales au Maroc,” 123. 63. E. Ann McDougal, “Living the Legacy of Slavery,” 957–86. An earlier generation of scholars called this group “Moors,” meaning individuals of mixed Arab-Berber ancestry. For example, see Alfred Gerteiny, Mauritania, 34. 64. Since most North Africans—Moroccans, Algerians, and Tunisians—also have mixed Arab-Berber ancestry, the term Bidan seems an exceptional term used only in studies of Mauritania. 65. Willis, Politics and Power in the Maghreb, 5. One recent exception is J. N. C. Hill, Democratization in the Maghreb. 66. Gerteiny, Mauritania, 41, 43–44. 67. Mahfoud Bennoune, “Mauritania: Formation of a Neo-colonial Society,” 5. 68. Gerteiny, Mauritania, 103–4. 69. David Robinson, Paths of Accommodation: Muslim Societies and French Colonial Authority in Senegal and Mauritania, 1880–1920, 184–88. 70. Gerteiny, Mauritania, 114. 71. Spencer D. Segalla, Moroccan Soul: French Education, Colonial Ethnology, and Muslim Resistance, 1912–1956, 54. 72. Bennoune, “Mauritania,” 6. 73. Gerteiny, Mauritania, 104. 74. Virginia Thompson and Richard Adloff, French West Africa, 166; Gerteiny, Mauritania, 104. 75. Thompson and Adloff, French West Africa, 40, 140. See also Gerteiny, Mauritania, 139–40. 76. Robinson, Paths of Accommodation, 275n72. 77. Thompson and Adloff, French West Africa, 162–65. 78. Gerteiny, Mauritania, 117, 119. 79. Ibid., 127. 80. Thompson and Adloff, French West Africa, 165. 81. Coulibaly Bocar, “Le statut des collectivités locales en Mauritanie,” 58. 82. Gerteiny, Mauritania, 48. 83. Thompson and Adloff, French West Africa, 165. 84. William Eagleton Jr., “The Islamic Republic of Mauritania,” 49. 85. Clement Henry Moore, “One-Partyism in Mauritania,” 409–11. See also Anthony Pazzanita, “Mauritania’s Second Republic,” 576. 86. Mark Tessler, “Image and Reality in Moroccan Political Economy,” 217–18.

Notes to Pages 52–57  ■  231 3. All about the Base 1. Clark, “Threats, Structures, and Resources,” 101. 2. Azzam Tamimi, Rachid Ghannouchi: A Democrat within Islamism, 31–33. 3. Christopher Alexander, Tunisia: Stability and Reform in the Modern Maghreb, 47–48. 4. Dirk Vandewalle, “From the New State to the New Era: Toward a Second Republic in Tunisia,” 611. 5. Marion Boulby, “The Islamic Challenge: Tunisia since Independence,” 602–6. See also Susan Waltz, “Islamist Appeal in Tunisia,” 658. 6. Mohamed Elbaki Hermassi, “La société tunisienne au miroir islamiste,” 43. 7. Waltz, “Islamist Appeal in Tunisia,” 654. 8. Mohamed Elhachmi Hamdi, The Politicisation of Islam: A Case Study of Tunisia, 25. 9. Vandewalle, “From the New State to the New Era,” 609, 610. 10. Boulby, “The Islamic Challenge,” 606. 11. Clement Henry Moore, “Tunisia and Bourguibisme: Twenty Years of Crisis,” 188, 187. 12. Mary-Jane Deeb, “Militant Islam and the Politics of Redemption,” 56. 13. Fabio Merone and Francesco Cavatorta, “Salafist Movement and Sheikh-ism in the Tunisian Democratic Transition,” 2. 14. Isabel Schäfer, “The Tunisian Transition: Torn between Democratic Consolidation and Neo-conservatism in an Insecure Regional Context,” 16. 15. Abdellatif Abid, minister of education and member of Ettakatol secretariat general, interview by the author, Oct. 27, 2011, Tunis, Tunisia. 16. Guadalupe Martínez Fuentes, “Divisive Electoral Policies within Authoritarian Elections: The Tunisian Casuistry (1989–2009),” 526, 531. 17. Alexis Arieff, “Tunisia: Recent Developments and Policy Issues,” 4. 18. Willis, Politics and Power, 135. 19. Moncef Marzouki, former Tunisian president and CPR party president, public meeting at Harvard University’s Middle East Initiative, Mar. 4, 2017, Cambridge, MA. 20. Lise Garon, Dangerous Alliances: Civil Society, the Media, and Democratic Transition in North Africa, 150. 21. Vincent Geisser, interview of Moncef Marzouki in Dictateurs en sursis: Une voie démocratique pour le monde arabe, 80. 22. Willis, Politics and Power, 134, 132. 23. Cammett, Globalization and Business Politics, 61. 24. Larbi Sadiki, “Ben Ali’s Tunisia: Democracy by Non-democratic Means,” 60, 61. 25. Vincent Geisser, “Une fin de règne qui n’en finit pas,” 345–47; Lisa Anderson, “Political Pacts, Liberalism, and Democracy: The Tunisian National Pact of 1988,” 253. 26. Anderson, “Political Pacts, Liberalism, and Democracy,” 251. 27. Sadiki, “Ben Ali’s Tunisia,” 61. 28. Anderson, “Political Pacts, Liberalism, and Democracy,” 252.

232  ■  Notes to Pages 58–62 29. Ibid., 251. 30. Previously Bourguiba’s party, the PSD. 31. C. Alexander, “Opportunities, Organizations, and Ideas,” 476. 32. Rikke Hostrup Haugbølle and Francesco Cavatorta, “Will the Real Tunisian Opposition Please Stand Up? Opposition Coordination Failures under Authoritarian Constraints,” 334. 33. Deeb, “Militant Islam,” 59. 34. Hamdi, The Politicisation of Islam, 69–70, 71; Waltz, Human Rights and Reform, 179. 35. Lisa Anderson, “Politics in the Middle East: Opportunities and Limits in Quest for Theory,” 4. 36. Lufti Hajji, “The 18 October Coalition for Rights and Freedoms in Tunisia,” 3. 37. Ibid., 4. 38. Marzouki, public meeting at Harvard University’s Middle East Initiative. 39. Rafik Abdessalem, “Al-Haajah ila binaa’ al-kutlah at-taarikhyyah: Al-Haalah attuunisiyyah namuudhajaan,” 210–11. 40. Ellen Lust, “Missing the Third Wave: Islam, Institutions, and Democracy in the Middle East,” 165–66. 41. Hajji, “18 October Coalition,” 4. 42. Lindsay Benstead, “Republic of Tunisia,” 471, 481. 43. Chambergeat, “Élections communales au Maroc,” 111–13, 107. 44. Henry Munson Jr., Religion and Power in Morocco, 174. 45. Waterbury, Commander of the Faithful, 211. 46. Claude Palazzoli, Le Maroc politique de l’indépendance à 1973, 248. 47. Rkia el-Mossadeq, “Political Parties and Power Sharing,” 73. 48. Octave Marais, “The Ruling Class in Morocco,” 192. See also el-Hussein A’boushi, “The Socialist Union of Popular Forces Party in Morocco,” 6. 49. A’boushi, “Socialist Union of Popular Forces,” 22–23n14. 50. Waterbury, Commander of the Faithful, 245–28. See also al-Musawi al-‘Ajlawi, Min al-ittiHaad al-waTanii ila al-ittiHaad al-ishtiraakii liil-quwaat ash-sha‘biyyah, 1959–1983. 51. Willis, Politics and Power, 126. 52. Moulay Hicham el-Alaoui, Journal d’un prince banni: Demain, le Maroc, 32–33. 53. In future decades, several more radical (but disillusioned) leftists from the USFP/ UNFP founded Morocco’s modern Amazigh identity movement. 54. Zerhouni, “The Moroccan Parliament,” 221. 55. Alain Claisse, “Makhzen Traditions and Administrative Channels,” 44. 56. Malika Zeghal, “On the Politics of Sainthood: Resistance and Mimicry in Postcolonial Morocco,” 589. For the seminal work on Islamic symbology, see Abdellah Hammoudi, Master and Disciple: The Cultural Foundations of Moroccan Authoritarianism. 57. John Damis, “The Impact of the Saharan Dispute on Moroccan Foreign and Domestic Policy,” 206. See also John Nellis, “Tutorial Decentralization in Morocco,” 486.

Notes to Pages 62–66  ■  233 58. J. C. Santucci, “Maroc: Chronique politique,” 376. 59. Nellis, “Tutorial Decentralization in Morocco,” 494. 60. Santucci, “Maroc: Chronique politique,” 376. 61. Mustapha Sehimi, Juin 1977: Etude des élections législatives au Maroc, 93. 62. Santucci, “Maroc: Chronique politique,” 377. 63. Michael Willis, “Political Parties in the Maghrib: The Illusion of Significance?,” 10. 64. Abdellatif Moutadayene, “Economic Crises and Democratization in Morocco,” 72. 65. Alain Claisse, “Elections communales et législatives au Maroc,” 638–39. See also Bernabe Lopez Garcia, “Le Makhzen, la ‘Amma et l’arbitre au Maroc: Administration et societé civile aux élections locales et législatives, 1992–1993,” 421. 66. Gregory White, “The Advent of Electoral Democracy in Morocco? The Referendum of 1996,” 390. 67. Jean-Noel Ferrie, “La mise en place de l’alternance,” 231–32. 68. Mohamed Benhlal, “Maroc: Chronique intérieure,” 208. 69. Zerhouni, “The Moroccan Parliament,” 221–22; Tessler, “Image and Reality,” 215. 70. Bilal Talidi, interview with Larbi Talqaaeed, Dhaakiraat al-Harakah al-islaamiyyah al-maghribiyyah: Al-juz’ al-awwal, 85–87. 71. Bilal Talidi, interview with Idriss Shahin, ibid., 90. 72. Eva Wegner, Islamist Opposition in Authoritarian Regimes, 25. 73. Saadeddine Othmani, “As-siyaasah wa ash-shaari‘aa,” 2. 74. “Al-intikhaabaat al-tuunisiyyah wa at-tayyaar al-islaamii,” al-Islah, Apr. 14, 1989, 2. 75. “Abdelilah Benkirane li ash-sharq al-awsaT: Turatnaa ma‘a Hizb al-istiqlaal ‘alaaqa akthar minha al-siyaassah,” al-Rai 280 (Dec. 25, 1997): 7. 76. Mohamed Yatim, ’Ashara sanawaat min at-tawHiid wa al-islaaH, 34. 77. Michael Willis, “Between Alternance and the Makhzen: At-Tawhid wa Al-Islah’s Entry into Moroccan Politics,” 46. 78. Yatim, ’Ashara sanawaat, 34–35. 79. Willis, “Between Alternance and the Makhzen,” 46. 80. Zerhouni, “The Moroccan Parliament,” 221. 81. Benhlal, “Maroc: Chronique intérieure,” 211. 82. Wegner, Islamist Opposition, 25, 147–49. 83. Saloua Zerhouni, “The Moroccan Parliament,” 223. 84. Yildirim, Muslim Democratic Parties, 210. 85. Abdelilah Benkirane, Moroccan prime minister and PJD secretary-general, interview by the author, July 7, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 86. Zakaria Boubari, USFP regional secretary, Midelt Province, and communal representative for Midelt Commune, interview by the author, May 10, 2014, Midelt, Morocco. 87. Ibid. 88. Boukhars, Politics in Morocco, 66.

234  ■  Notes to Pages 66–69 89. Michael Willis, “Morocco’s Islamists and the Legislative Elections of 2002: The Strange Case of the Party That Did Not Want to Win,” 68–79. 90. Janine A. Clark and Amy E. Young, “Islamism and Family Law Reform in Morocco and Jordan,” 339–40. 91. Miquel Pellicer and Eva Wegner, “The Justice and Development Party in Moroccan Local Politics,” 42. 92. Previously, Tozy (2008) and el-Maslouhi (2009) have remarked in passing on this gradual ruralization of the leftist party but furnished little quantitative data to evidence these trends. See Mohamed Tozy, “Islamists, Technocrats, and the Palace,” 40; and el-Maslouhi, “Gauche marocaine,” 11. 93. Interview with Mohamed Sassi, “L’USFP a une logique de parti unique,” Telquel 235 (2006): 22–28. 94. Mounia Bennani-Chraibi, “‘Businessmen’ versus ‘Professors’: The Parliamentary ‘Notabilisaton’ of a Party of Militants in Morocco,” 7, 5. 95. Lise Storm, Democratization in Morocco: The Political Elite and Struggles for Power in the Post-independence State, 68–75. 96. Willis, “Morocco’s Islamists,” 68–79. 97. Wegner, Islamist Opposition, 83–84. 98. Mohamed el-Yazghi, former USFP party president and minister of state, interview by the author, July 1, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 99. Abdelaziz Aftati, PJD parliamentary deputy, interview by the author, Jan. 6, 2011, Oujda, Morocco. 100. James N. Sater, Civil Society and Political Change in Morocco, 138. 101. Clark and Young, “Islamism and Family Law Reform.” 102. Bassima Hakkoui, PJD secretariat general member and minister, interview by the author, July 27, 2009, Casablanca, Morocco. 103. “Muqaawamaat al-fasaad awwal al-awliyaat fi barnaamijinaa al-maHallii,” at-Tajdid 463 (Sept. 16, 2002): 9. 104. Abou Salaah, “Al-idaarah al-sha‘biibah tamna’ qiyaadaat as-Saff al-awwal liHizb al-‘amal al-Sahyuunii min al-HuDuur al-awwal marrah ila ashghaal mu’tamar al-ummah al-ishtiraakiyyah,” at-Tajdid (May 31, 2002): 3. 105. Mostafa Ramid, “RafaDnaa liHuDuur al-wafd al-Sahyuunii mawqif mubaadi’ min al-taTbiiq ghair murtabiT bi adh-DHarfiyyah al-intikhaabiyyah,” at-Tajdid (June 4, 2002): 2. 106. Alfred de Montesquiou and Hassan Alaoui, “Elton John to Perform Despite Morocco Outcry,” Associated Press, May 26, 2010. 107. Jamaal Bourfisi, “As-si‘r al-ijtimaa‘ii min istiHlaak al-khumuur ‘aalii,” as-Sabah 2908 (Aug. 15–16, 2009): 11. 108. Jamaal Bourfisi, “Maa bayna 400 wa 600 Haalaat al-ijhaaDH yawmiyaan fiilmaghreb,” Sabah 2896 (Aug. 1–2, 2009): 8.

Notes to Pages 69–74  ■  235 109. Mohamed Achaari, former minister of cultural affairs and member of USFP secretariat general, interview by the author, June 20, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 110. Andrew Barwig, “The New Palace Guards: Elections and Elites in Morocco and Jordan,” 426. 111. National Democratic Institute, “Final Breakdown of the Moroccan Legislative Elections: 7 September, 2007,” 35–36. 112. Karim Boukhari and Fahd Iraqi, “El-Himma: Le ONE man show et ce qu’il cache,” Tel Quel (June 7–13, 2008): 49–50. 113. Najib Wazani, former PAM cofounder and PAM secretariat general member, interview by the author, Apr. 12, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 114. Mohamed Elkennoudi, external relations, Socialist Unified Party, interview by the author, Jan. 25, 2011, Casablanca, Morocco. 115. Boukhari and Iraqi, “El-Himma,” 48. 116. Farid Boussaid, “The Rise of the PAM in Morocco: Trampling the Political Scene or Stumbling into It?” 417. 117. Aziz el-Ouadie, PAM secretariat general member, interview by the author, July 23, 2013, Casablanca, Morocco. 118. Abdellatif Zahar, PAM communal representative and campaign organizer, interview by the author, July 21, 2013, Casablanca, Morocco. 119. El-Ouadie, interview by the author. 120. Ihsan el-Hafidi, political parties journalist, Sabah newspaper, interview by the author, July 23, 2013, Casablanca, Morocco. 121. Salaheddine Aboughali, PAM mayor of Mediouna, interview by the author, July 23, 2013, Casablanca, Morocco. 122. Barwig, “New Palace Guards,” 434. 123. Aftati, interview by the author. 124. “Al-maktab as-siyaassii lil-ittiHaad al-ishtiraakii: Al-Hizb al-jadiid ‘alayna nafshi ‘amaliyaan Hizbaan waahidaan,” Jaridat al-itihaad al-ishtiraakii 8975 (Sept. 18, 2008): 1. 125. “Tasrih: Mohamed Achaari,” at-Tajdid 2301 (Jan. 20, 2010): 2. 126. Ismail Hamoudi, “Idriss Lachgar: Hunaaka qawaasim mushtarikah ma‘a al-‘adaala wa at-tanmiyyah,” at-Tajdid 1911 (June 11, 2008), 1. 127. Dr. Rachid Lazrak, chief of research and studies, Minister Driss Lachgar’s office, Ministry of Parliamentary Relations, interview by the author, Apr. 23, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 128. Moustapha Ould Badredine, acting UFP party president and parliamentary deputy, interview by the author, Feb. 4, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 129. Mohamed Lemine Ould Sidi Bab, MuDHaahir al-mushaarikah as-siyaasiyyah fii muuriitaanyaa, 69n11. 130. Mahfoud Bennoune, “The Political Economy of Mauritania: Imperialism and Class Struggle,” 41–43.

236  ■  Notes to Pages 74–78 131. Anthony G. Pazzanita, Historical Dictionary of Mauritania, 201. 132. Lemine Ould Sidi Bab, MuDHaahir al-mushaarikah, 78. 133. Ahmedou Ba, National Democratic Institute—Mauritania, interview by the author, Jan. 10, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 134. Jonathan Bundu, “Mauritania: Making the Triangle of Poverty the Triangle of Hope.” 135. Aminetou Mint El Moktar, Union of Progressive Forces secretariat general member and Kadahine activist, interview by the author, Jan. 20, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 136. Lemine Ould Sidi Bab, MuDHaahir al-mushaarikah, 70–71. 137. Bennoune, “Political Economy of Mauritania,” 41. 138. Lemine Ould Sidi Bab, MuDHaahir al-mushaarikah, 70–71. 139. Philippe Marchesin, “Origine et évolution des partis et groupes politiques,” 24–25. 140. Pazzanita, Historical Dictionary, 30–31. See also Anthony G. Pazzanita, “State and Society in Mauritania in the 1990s,” 20. 141. Courier, “Dossier: Development and Cooperation—Mauritania Country Report,” 100. 142. Mireille Duteil, “Chronique mauritanienne,” 787. 143. Zekeria Ould Ahmed Salem, “Islam in Mauritania between Political Expansion and Globalization: Elites, Institutions, Knowledge, and Networks,” 29. 144. Alex Thurston, “Mauritania’s Islamists,” 13. 145. Lemine Ould Sidi Bab, MuDHaahir al-mushaarikah, 119. 146. Cédric Jourde, “Ethnicity, Democratization, and Political Dramas: Insights into Ethnic Politics in Mauritania,” 26–27. 147. Marty, “Mauritania,” 98–104. 148. Jourde, “Ethnicity, Democratization, and Political Dramas,” 28. 149. Alain Antil, “Le PRDS: Stratégie d’implantation d’un parti au pouvoir en République islamique de Mauritanie,” 128–29. 150. Marchesin, “Origine et évolution,” 29. 151. Pazzanita, Historical Dictionary, 576. 152. Alain Antil, “Le chef, la famille et l’Etat: Mauritanie, quand démocratisation rime avec tribalisation,” 191–92. 153. Hindou Mint Ainina, “La politique de censure des partis de l’opposition se consolide et le thème tabou de l’esclavage est au devant de la scène politique,” 356. 154. Zekeria Ould Ahmed Salem, “Islam in Mauritania,” 32. See Also “Al-qaa’id al-­ islaamii Jemil Ould Mansour fii muqaabalah ma’a akhbaar Nouakchott,” akhbaar Nouakchott, http://www.ani.mr/old/mapeci/Ar/442/national.htm. 155. Ahmed Ould Wadia, editor of es-Sirage Islamist newspaper and Tawassoul secretariat general member, interview by the author, Jan. 22, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 156. Moulay Najim Ould Moulay Zein, “Demain les Islamistes!?” L’Essentiel des Points Chauds du Maghreb et de l’Afrique Francophone, 107 (Dec. 2011–Jan. 2012), 3.

Notes to Pages 78–83  ■  237 157. Pazzanita, Historical Dictionary, 589. 158. Ursel Clausen, “Mauritanie: Chronique politique,” 315–16. 159. Jourde, “Ethnicity, Democratization, and Political Dramas,” 26. 160. Clausen, “Mauritanie: Chronique politique,” 315–16. 161. Hindou Mint Ainina, “Une année mouvement: De la répression des Islamistes à la réelection du Président Ould Taya,” 259–60. 162. Zekeria Ould Ahmed Salem, “Islam in Mauritania,” 31–35. 163. Alice Bullard, “A Putsch and Promises of Democracy,” 37. 164. Boubacar N’Diaye, “Mauritania, August 2005: Justice and Democracy, or Just Another Coup?,” 425–32. 165. Daniel Zisenwine, “Mauritania’s Democratic Transition: A Regional Model for Political Reform?,” 488. See also N’Diaye, “Mauritania, August 2005,” 431. 166. Works on Mauritania commonly transliterate the colonel’s name as “Vall,” though the consonant v does not exist in Arabic. 167. Raquel Ojeda García, “La derrota del antiguo partido autoritario dominante (PRDR) en las elecciones legislativas de 2006 en Mauritania,” 32. 168. Boubacar N’Diaye, “To ‘Midwife’—and Abort—a Democracy: Mauritania’s Transition from Military Rule, 2005–2008,” 138. See also N’Diaye, “Mauritania, August 2005,” 435. 169. N’Diaye, “Mauritania, August 2005,” 435. 170. Zisenwine, “Mauritania’s Democratic Transition,” 488. 171. Noel Foster, Mauritania: The Struggle for Democracy, 95–97. 172. N’Diaye, “Mauritania, August 2005,” 428–29. 173. Because Mauritania’s Islamist movement was legalized as the Tawassoul Party only in 2007, its candidates for the 2006 communal elections competed as independents. Foster (Mauritania, 145) notes that the Islamists won three mayor positions, but party sources told me twelve, including several in Mauritania’s interior like Tintine and Guerou. Mohamed Lemine Moussa, Tawassoul external and international relations official, interview by the author, Jan. 22, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. See also Ahmed Aghrout, “Parliamentary and Presidential Elections in Mauritania, 2006 and 2007,” 387. 174. N’Diaye, “To ‘Midwife’—and Abort—a Democracy,” 139. 175. Ojeda García, “La derrota del antiguo partido autoritario dominante,” 42. 176. N’Diaye, “To ‘Midwife’—and Abort—a Democracy,” 142. 177. Ibid., 147. 178. Foster, Mauritania, 69–70. 179. Ibid., 184. 180. For details on how Mauritania’s transition ended, reference Raquel Ojeda García and Alberto Lòpez Bargados, “¿E pur si Muove? Logics of Power and the Process of Transition in the Islamist Republic of Mauritania,” 104–19. 181. Foster, Mauritania, 197.

238  ■  Notes to Pages 86–95 4. Zooming Out 1. Anne Wolf, Political Islam in Tunisia, 101. 2. Vincent Geisser and Éric Gobe, “Des fissures dans la ‘Maison Tunisie’: Le régime de Ben Ali face aux mobilisations protestataires,” 340–42. 3. “Wathiiq Hawla Harakat 18 Oktober,” press communication, 18 October Movement, Dec. 8, 2005, Paris. 4. Wolf, Political Islam in Tunisia, 101. 5. Ibid., 100. 6. Makdad Arbawi, Ennahda Party, public relations press officer, interview by the author, Oct. 3, 2011, Tunis, Tunisia. 7. Habib Ziedi, Tunisian Communist Workers’ Party, secretariat general member, interview by the author, Oct. 2, 2011, Tunis, Tunisia. 8. Emma Murphy, Economic and Political Change in Tunisia: From Bourguiba to Ben Ali, 226. 9. Cavatorta and Merone, “after the Arab Awakening,” 3. 10. Michael Willis, “Revolt for Dignity: Tunisia’s Revolution and Civil Resistance,” 33, 35–38. 11. Tunisian Election Commission official in Nabul II electoral district, interview by the author, Oct. 20, 2011, Nabul, Tunisia. 12. Rym Mourali, vice president and cofounder of the Initiative Party, interview by the author, Nov. 5, 2011, Tunis, Tunisia. 13. Ahmed Jalloul, Ennahda Constituent Assembly candidate, interview by the author, Oct. 24, 2011, Nabul, Tunisia. 14. “Marzouki: An-nahDa laysat ash-shayTaan,” Jaridat Assarih 3452 (Oct. 27, 2011): 4. 15. H. Bouazra, “Ettakatol ne vendra pas son âme . . . ,” Le Temps 12409 (Nov. 25, 2011): 4. 16. Carter Center, 2011 Constituent Assembly Elections Observer Handbook. 17. Nadia Marzouki, “Tunisia’s Rotten Compromise,” 1. 18. Mohamed Bennour, chief of staff of Tunisian Constituent Assembly president Mustapha Ben Jaafar, Ettakatol Party, interview by the author, Oct. 1, 2011, Tunis, Tunisia. 19. Ismail Hamoudi and Khalid al-Saty, “Al-yazghi yunaaqid al-maktab as-siyassii fii taqiim 10 sanawaat min tajribaat al-Hukm,” at-Tajdid 1914 (June 16, 2008): 3. 20. Omar Brouksy and Abderrahim Tafnout, “Le face à face: USFP-PJD,” Le Journal Hebdomadaire (July 18–24, 2009): 20–28. 21. “Hassan Tarek: At-taHaaluf bayn al-ittiHaad al-ishtiraakii wa al-‘adaala wa at-tanmiyyah qiimii,” Sabah 2873 (June 6, 2009): 15. 22. Dr. Rachid Lazrak, chief of research and studies, Minister Driss Lachgar’s office, Ministry of Parliamentary Relations, interview by the author, Apr. 23, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 23. Ibid., Mar. 3, 2011, Rabat, Morocco.

Notes to Pages 95–102  ■  239 24. Rachid Balafraj, chief of staff of USFP minister Mohamed el-Yazghi, Ministry of State, interview by the author, July 26, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 25. Boukhars, Politics in Morocco, 76. 26. Ilyas el-Omari, vice president of Party of Authenticity and Modernity, interview by the author, Aug. 2, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 27. High-ranking leftist leader (anonymity requested), interview by the author, June 23, 2010, Rabat, Morocco. 28. Wegner and Pellicer, “Left-Islamist Opposition Cooperation,” 307. 29. Ihssan el-Hafidi, “Ittifaaq sirrii bayna al-ittiHaad al-ishtiraakii wa al-aSaalah wa al-mu‘aSarah,” Sabah 3344 (Jan. 12, 2011): 1. 30. Sanae Taleb, “A couteaux tirés: Alliances politiques à la veille des élections,” interview with Driss Lachgar and Rachid Talbi Alami, Puce (Aug. 22, 2011): 35. 31. Boukhars, Politics in Morocco, 75–77. 32. Abdelatif Wahabi, “Idriss Lachgar al-waziir al-mukallaf bil‘alaaqah ma‘a al-barlimaan fi Hiwaar ma‘a al-‘Adala Jousit,” ‘Adala Jousit (Feb. 2011): 16–18. 33. Ihsan Hafidi, “Harb al-balaghaat tandala‘ daakhil al-ittiHaad al-ishtiraakii,” Sabah 4406 (Jan. 19, 2011): 1. 34. Mohammed Achaari and Ali Bouabid, “Al-maSaaliH al-wataniyyah qabl kul shi’,” Akbar al-Youm 1432 (July 29, 2011): 1. 35. Boukhars, Politics in Morocco, 102. 36. Mohamed Tozy as quoted ibid. 37. Ihssan Elhafidi, “Radi: Al-mudaafi‘uun ‘an ‘al-baam’ yasta‘miluun silaaH al-Harb,” Sabah 3356 (Jan. 26, 2011): 1. 38. Ihssan Elhafidi, “Al-Malaki: At-taHaaluf ma‘a ‘al-baam’ khaarij agendat al-ittiHaad,” Sabah (Jan. 1, 2011): 1. 39. Abdelilah Benkirane, Moroccan prime minister (2011–17) and PJD party president, interview by the author, July 7, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 40. Mustapha el-Khalfi, PJD secretariat general member and minister, interview by the author, Dec. 1, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 41. Benkirane, interview by the author. 42. The full set of Morocco’s 2003 communal electoral results was used. The Interior Ministry locked 2009 full electoral results online, so data come from the Arabic weekly news magazine Annahar al-Maghribiya (July 2009), covering about 20 percent of all communes. 43. The data set’s loyalist parties included Morocco’s four main loyalist parties, the PAM, RNI, UC, and MP. Several smaller loyalist parties, like the MDS, were also added who belonged to the G-8 alliance. Wegner, Islamist Opposition, 25. 44. Sylvia Bergh, “‘Inclusive’ Neoliberalism, Local Governance Reforms and the Redeployment of State Power: The Case of the National Initiative for Human Development in Morocco,” 419–23. See also Janine Clark, Local Politics in Jordan and Morocco: Strategies of Centralization and Decentralization.

240  ■  Notes to Pages 103–18 45. To investigate potential multicollinearity between variables such as illiteracy, poverty, and rural residence, a VIF test was run. None of the variables exceeded the 0.2 standard. 46. Khadija al-Manfalouti, PAM communal representative in Casablanca, interview by the author, July 18, 2013, Casablanca, Morocco. 47. Yasmine Berriane, Femmes, associations, et politique à Casablanca. 48. John Waterbury, “The Coup Manqué,” 404. 49. Mohamed Boughlem, PAM communal mayor and parliamentary deputy, interview by the author, May 27, 2014, Rabat, Morocco. 50. Ibid. 51. USFP local president and Ighzrane communal representative (anonymity requested), interview by the author, May 19, 2014, Ribate el-Kheir, Morocco. 52. USFP regional secretary and Ighzrane communal representative (anonymity requested), interview by the author. 53. Hammoudi, Master and Disciple, 181n6. 54. Stephen Juan King, Liberalization against Democracy: The Local Politics of Economic Reform in Tunisia, 54. 55. Abdelsamad al-Qurashi, leftist party president and communal representative in Mghassiyine, interview by the author, May 23, 2014, Meknès, Morocco. 56. Ibid. 57. Transparency Maroc, “Revue de presse hebdomadaire: Le ministre de l’intérieur destitue le maire PJD de Meknès, Aboubakr Belkora, pour mauvaise gestion,” 4. 58. Jemil Ould Mansour, secretary-general, Islamist Tawassoul Party, interview by the author, Feb. 7, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 59. Alain Antil, “Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz l’alchimiste,” 5–6. See also Raquel Ojeda García, “Mauritania: Régimen autoritario y reconfiguración del sistema de partidos,” 110–28. 60. “Haadha huwa at-taghayyur al-ladhi nuriiduhu,” Jaridat Chouaa 75 (Oct. 26, 2009): 3, 4. 61. Mohamed M’barek, Tawassoul secretariat general member, interview by the author, Feb. 2, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 62. Tawassoul and Union for the Republic Parties, “Sénatoriales 2009: Liste Union et Réforme—Nouakchott,” 1–2. 63. “Haadha huwa,” 3, 4. 64. Mohamed Lemine Moussa, Tawassoul liaison for external relations, interview by the author, Jan. 22, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 65. Mohamed Chamikh, Union for the Republic secretariat general member, interview by the author, Mar. 3, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 66. Foster, Mauritania, 133. 67. Moussa Demba Sow, mayor of Kaedi, Union for the Republic Party, interview by the author, Mar. 1, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania.

Notes to Pages 118–26  ■  241 68. Tawassoul and Union for the Republic Parties, “Sénatoriales 2009,” 1–2. 69. Data provided by Habib Ould Hamdit. Dr. Habib Ould Hamdit, Tawassoul Party, organizational director, interview by the author, Jan. 23, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 70. “Renouvellement du tiers du Sénat: L’UPR veut faire le plein,” La Tribune 470 (Oct. 12, 2009): 8. 71. Mohamed Said Ould Hamody, former Mauritanian ambassador to the United States, interview by the author, Jan. 29, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 72. “Renouvellement du tiers,” La Tribune, 8. 5. Zooming In 1. Snyder, “Scaling Down.” 2. Another leftist-Islamist alliance emerged in the city of Rabat. But given its status as Morocco’s capital city, politics therein are highly intertwined with events occurring in national-level politics. 3. Melani Cammett and Pauline Jones Luong, “Is There an Islamist Political Advantage?,” 200. 4. From a comparative perspective, I maintain that Tunisia’s communal structure exhibited far more centralization than either Morocco’s or Mauritania’s. However, some in-depth, noncomparative studies of Morocco’s communal system emphasize its centralization, especially within the rural communes. These accounts emphasize the Interior Ministry’s involvement therein. For this interpretation, see Sylvia I. Bergh’s pioneering work The Politics of Development in Morocco, 50–60. 5. Martha Brill Olcott and Marina Ottaway, “Challenge of Semi-Authoritarianism,” 6. 6. Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 47–49. 7. Bergh, Politics of Development in Morocco, 51. 8. James Mayfield, Local Government in Egypt, 48. 9. “TaTawwuraat mawraad al-Hisaabaat,” Majallat al-awwal (Mar. 28, 2011–Apr. 2, 2011): 22. 10. Myriam Catusse, Raffaele Cattedra, and M’hammed Idrissi Janati, “Decentralisation and Its Paradoxes in Morocco,” 113–35. 11. Santucci, “Maroc: Chronique politique,” 371–72. 12. Mohamed Snoussi, “Les collectivités locales en Tunisie,” 9. 13. Ibid., 8. 14. John Nellis, “Decentralization and Local Public Finance in Tunisia,” 193. 15. Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 75–76. 16. Waltz, Human Rights and Reform, 52. 17. Ashford, National Development and Local Reform, 81–82, 78–80. 18. Nellis, “Decentralization and Local Public Finance,” 190, 193. 19. Ibid., 188.

242  ■  Notes to Pages 126–33 20. Richard Vengroff and Hatem ben Salem, “Assessing the Impact of Decentralization on Governance: A Comparative Methodological Approach and Application to Tunisia,” 478. 21. Sadiki, “Ben Ali’s Tunisia,” 63, 61. 22. United Cities and Local Governments, “Tunisia,” Country Profiles (2010): 3. See also Arieff, “Tunisia,” 4. 23. Freedom House, “Tunisia,” Freedom in the World Report (2006): 3–4. 24. Pellicer and Wegner, “Justice and Development Party,” 42. 25. Mohamed Najib Boulif, PJD minister of general affairs and good governance and parliamentary deputy, interview by the author, Apr. 13, 2011, Morocco. 26. Benkirane, interview by the author. 27. Ihssan Elhafidi, “Al-ittiHaad al-ishtiraakii yad‘am Hizb al-‘adaala wa at-tanmiyyah fii ash-shamaal,” as-Sabah 2860 (June 20–21, 2009): 3. 28. Abdallah Lkouzi, “Lashkar yuqaddim khidmah kabiirah lil‘adaala wa at-tanmiyyah,” as-Sabah 2873 (July 6, 2009): 15. 29. “Muqaawamat al-fasaad uula al-awliyaat fii birnaamijinaa al-maHallii,” at-Tajdid 1423 (Sept. 16, 2002): 9. 30. “TasriiH: Mohammad Achaari,” at-Tajdid 2301 (Dec. 20, 2010): 2. 31. Ismail Hamoudi, “Idriss Lachgar: Hunaaka qawaasim mushtarikah ma‘a al-‘adaala wa at-tanmiyyah,” at-Tajdid 1911 (June 11, 2008): 1. 32. Jamal Bourfisi, “Al-aSaalah wa al-mu‘aaSarah yuqaddim akbar ‘adad min al-murashshihiin,” as-Sabah 2844 (June 2, 2009): 1. 33. “Al-ittiHaad al-ishtiraakii yaTlaq an-naar ‘ala ad-daakhiliyyah wa yattahimuha biistihdaafihi bi-kenitra,” al-Massae 856 (June 22, 2009): 4. 34. Ali Kharroubi, “Avec Khalid Zhoir, élu PJD à Oujda, le PAM réussit sa première grosse prise,” Aujourd’hui le Maroc 1898 (Apr. 10, 2009): 1. 35. Aftati, interview by the author. 36. Mohamed Aswab, “Mostafa Ramid accuse le ministre de l’Intérieur de complicité,” Aujourd’hui le Maroc 1962 (July 8, 2009): 4. 37. Abdelali Hamidine, Islamist party secretariat general member, interview by the author, July 1, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 38. Mohamed Ibrahimi, “Al-ittiHaad al-ishtiraakii wa al-‘adaalah ya‘lan taHaaluf qawii bi-agadir,” as-Sabah 2857 (June 17, 2009): 5. 39. Abdallah Nahaari, “Al-‘adaalah wa at-tanmiyyah wa al-ittiHaad bi-agadir wa hikaayat al-nabii wa al-yahuud,” as-Sabah 2861 (June 22, 2009): 1. 40. Larbi Telmoudi, leftist regional party president and Agadir communal representative, interview by the author, Feb. 24, 2011, Agadir, Morocco. 41. Mohamed Ibrahimi, “Al-ittiHaad al-ishtiraakii wa al-‘adaala wa at-tanmiyyah yasiiraan agadir,” as-Sabah (2864): 5. 42. Ibid.

Notes to Pages 134–43  ■  243 43. Mohamed Hafidi, leftist communal representative in Agadir, interview by the author, Feb. 23, 2011, Agadir, Morocco. 44. Ahmed Benkhobza, Islamist party local president and communal representative, interview by the author, June 2, 2011, Tétouan, Morocco. 45. Ibid. 46. Jamal Wahabi, “TaHaluf al-‘adaalah wa al-ittiHaad al-ishtiraakii yuqarrir al-iTaaH bi-talabi al-‘alami,” al-Massae 852 (June 17, 2009): 4. 47. Ihssan Elhafidi, “At-taHaaluf bayna al-‘adaalah wa al-ittiHaad yatiiH bilaHraar,” asSabah 2862 (June 23, 2009): 4. 48. As Morocco is the world’s largest hashish producer, drug agriculturalists and traffickers often influence its politics. Fatima Sadour, “Al-kiif al-intikhaabii yaghDab al-malik mohamed al-saadis,” July 10, 2015, http://www.hespress.com/medias/270008.html. 49. Wahabi, “TaHaaluf al-‘adaalah wa al-ittiHaad al-ishtiraakii,” 4. 50. Ibid. 51. Elhafidi, “At-taHaaluf bayna al-‘adaalah wa al-ittiHaad yatiiH bilaHraar,” 4. 52. Abdelkarim Zakaria, Islamist vice mayor of Tétouan, interview by the author, May 30, 2011, Tétouan, Morocco. 53. Benkhobza, interview by the author. 54. “Le fantôme de Taya,” La Tribune, November 22, 2006, 1. 55. Coalition des Forces de Changement Démocratique, “Coalition des forces de changement déclaration: Élections du 19 novembre,” primary document, http://www.rfd -mauritanie.org. 56. Tawassoul and Union for the Republic Parties, “Sénatoriales 2009: Liste Union et Réforme: Nouakchott,” Tawassoul and UPR parties, primary document (2009): 1–2. 57. Ahmed Salem Ould Ahmed, leftist vice mayor of Toujounine commune, Feb. 15, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 58. Hawa Adama Diallo, leftist vice mayor of urban commune of Nouakchott, interview by the author, Feb. 16, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 59. Ould Ahmed, interview by the author. 60. Dalay Lam, “Interview du Président de la CUN Ahmed Ould Hamza avec Le Calame,” Nouakchott, Mauritania, http://cun.netai.net/. 61. Ould Ahmed, interview by the author. 62. Ahmed Ould Hamza, Nouakchott mayor, interview by the author, Jan. 18, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 63. Mohamed Lemine Ould Cherif Ahmed, Islamist mayor of Tajounine commune, interview by the author, Feb. 20, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 64. Cammett and Luong, “Is There an Islamist Political Advantage?,” 200. 65. Diallo, interview by the author. 66. Cherif Ahmed, interview by the author. 67. Eqbal Ahmad, “Trade Unionism,” 146–91.

244  ■  Notes to Pages 143–50 68. Juliette Bessis, Les fondateurs: Index biographique des cadres syndicalistes de la Tunisie coloniale, 23–142. 69. Abd al-Jaleel abu al-jayd, An-niqaabaat bilmaghrib, 20–21. 70. Ahmad, “Trade Unionism,” 157. 71. Jean-François Clement and Jim Paul, “Trade Unions and Moroccan Politics,” 19. 72. Joel Beinin, Workers and Peasants in the Modern Middle East, 136–37. 73. Daniel Zisenwine, The Independence Party: Birth of a Nationalist Movement, 206–8. 74. C. Moore, Politics in North Africa, 175–94; Pazzanita, Historical Dictionary, 275. 75. Halpern, Politics of Social Change, 318. 76. Montserrat Emperador Badimon, “Does Unemployment Spark Collective Contentious Action? Evidence from a Moroccan Social Movement,” 195. 77. C. Moore, Politics in North Africa, 184. 78. Stuart H. Schaar, “The Failure of Multi-party Politics in Morocco: A Historian’s View,” 11–12. 79. Harold Nelson, Tunisia: A Country Study, 244–46. 80. Clement and Paul, “Trade Unions and Moroccan Politics,” 21. 81. Ahmad, “Trade Unionism,” 175. 82. Michael Christopher Alexander, “Between Accommodation and Confrontation: State, Labor, and Development in Algeria and Tunisia,” 109–24, 51–58. 83. Nelson, Tunisia: A Country Study, 65–66. 84. Ibid. 85. Abdelilah Dahmane, Islamist union (UNTM) vice president and president of UNTM teachers’ federation, interview by the author, July 12, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 86. Clark, “Threats, Structures, and Resources,” 101–7. 87. Jawad Ghasaal, “Al-Hiwaar al-ijtimaa‘ii yattajihu naHwa al-baab al-masduud,” atTajdid 1430 (July 15, 2009): 3. 88. Ibid. 89. “Irtifaa‘ ‘adad al-iDraabaat fii as-sanah 2010 binisbah 8 fii al-miyah muqaaranah bi as-sanah al-maaDiyyah,” al-Massae 1285 (Aug. 11, 2010): 8. 90. “Grève: Guerre des chiffres et des mots,” Telquel (Oct. 6–12, 2010): 8. 91. Jamal Bourfisi, “Mezouar: Al-hukuumah laysat musta‘iddah lirafa‘ al-ujuur,” asSabah 3322 (Dec. 17, 2010): 1. 92. Hajar al-Maghli, “NajaaH al-iDraabaat bilwaDHiifah al-‘umuumiyyaah fawqa 80 fi al-miyah,” as-Sabah 3369 (Feb. 10, 2011): 5. 93. “Niqaabaat katharat iDraabaat waTaniyyah fi at-ta‘liim wa as-SiHHah wa ad-damaan al-ijtimaa‘ii wa al-qaTa‘aat al-ukhraa,” as-Sabah 3369 (Feb. 10, 2011): 1. 94. Al-Maghli, “NajaaH al-iDraabaat,” 5. 95. “Niqaabaat katharat iDraabaat,” 1. 96. Zartman, “Opposition as Support of the State,” 71.

Notes to Pages 150–61  ■  245 97. Khaled al-Suti, “Al-niqaabii Mohamed Yatime yaHmal al-hukuumah mas’uul aliDraabaat wa al-iHtiqaan al-ijtimaa‘ii,” at-Tajdid 2565 (Jan. 28–30, 2011): 3. 98. “King of Investments: Morocco’s Mohammed VI’s Enduring Legacy.” 99. Khaled al-Suti, “Nisaa’ wa rijaal at-ta‘liim yunaddiduun bi-ttadakhulaat al-amaniyyah,” at-Tajdid 2608 (Mar. 31, 2011): 1. 100. Rachid Jarmouni, “Dafaa‘an ‘an karaamat nissaa’ wa rijaal at-ta‘liim,” at-Tajdid 2606 (Mar. 29, 2011): 7. 101. Ihssan Elhafidi, “Al-waziir al-awwal yatadakhkhal liwaqf al-iHtiqaan al-ijtimaa‘ii,” as-Sabah 3367 (Feb. 8, 2011): 2. 102. Youssef Akdim, “La paix sociale à tout prix,” Telquel 461 (Feb. 19–25, 2011): 30. 103. Hajar al-Maghli, “Thalaath markaziyaat niqaabiyyah tarfa‘ saqf al-muTaalib,” asSabah 3427 (Apr. 19, 2011): 5. 104. “Malaf al-muTaalib al-mushtarikah,” UNTM union primary document, 1–15. 105. al-Maghli, “Thalaath markaziyaat niqaabiyyah,” 5. 106. Mohamed Yatim, “Al-ittiHaad al-waTanii lilshaghal bilmaghrib yaHdhur min alrujuu‘ bilHiwaar al-ijtimaa‘ii,” at-Tajdid 2609 (Apr. 1–3, 2011): 3. 107. H. Dades, “Ça bloque sur les augmentations de salaires, les retraites . . . ,” Le Reporter (Apr. 14, 2011): 28–29. 108. Murad Thaabi, “InsiHaab wafd al-ittiHaad al-waTani lilshaghal bilmaghrib min jalasat al-Hiwaar al-ijtimaa‘ii bisabab khilaafaat bayna An-niqaabaat wa al-Hukuumah,” alMassae 1414 (Apr. 9–10, 2011): 3. 109. Souhail Karam, “Moroccan Unions Win Wage Hikes as Protests Grow,” http://www .reuters.com/article/2011/04/26/us-morocco-protests-wages-idUSTRE73P7A120110426. 110. “King of Investments.” 111. Ibtis Abouharia, “Attijariwafa Bank: Financial Communication 2013,” Attijariwafa Bank Report (2013): 2. 112. Dahmane, interview by the author. 113. Abderrahmane Azzouzi, leftist union (FDT) president and USFP member, interview by the author, July 25, 2011), Mohammadia, Morocco. 114. Anne-Catherine Greatti, “Spotlight on Abdallahi Ould Mohamed (CGTM-Mauritania),” International Trade Union Confederation (Mar. 8, 2011), https://www.ituc-csi.org /spotlight-on-abdallahi-ould. 115. Samoury Ould Beye, CLTM union president, interview by the author, Mar. 10, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 6. Resurrecting Alliances? 1. Monica Marks, “Speaking on the Unspeakable: Blasphemy and the Tunisian Constitution.”

246  ■  Notes to Pages 161–68 2. Lilia Weslaty, “Entretien avec le vice-président du parti islamiste Ennahda: Alliances et politique,” Dec. 15, 2012, www.nawaat.org. 3. Lilia Weslaty, “Abbou menace de retirer les ministres CPR du gouvernement Jebali: Serait-ce la dés-Troika?,” Dec. 11, 2012, www.nawaat.org. 4. Weslaty, “Entretien avec le vice-président.” 5. Amira ‘Akarimi, “Mohamed Baroudi lisabah news: Al-mu’tamar yatala‘ab bil-bilaad ghaayah lahu ghayr al-munaasib,” Feb. 2, 2013, www.sabahnews.tn. 6. Moncef Marzouki, former Tunisian president and CPR party president, public meeting at Harvard University’s Middle East Initiative, Mar. 4, 2017, Cambridge, MA. 7. “Jebali: Lastu ‘ala khalf ma‘a an-nahDa wa idhaa ahkurujni fa sa-aDHall Haziinan wa laakin . . . ,” Feb. 2, 2013, www.sabahnews.tn. 8. Marzouki, public meeting at Harvard University’s Middle East Initiative. 9. Because these fears have largely attenuated, Nidaa Tounes has become a possible coalition partner for the Islamists after the leftists’ weak results in the October 2014 parliamentary elections. 10. Mustapha Sehimi, “La grande peur,” Maroc Hebdo International (Feb. 24, 2011): 21. 11. Reda Dalil, “Les fous du phosphate,” Le Temps (July 23, 2011): 19–21. 12. Ismail Rouhi, “Al-‘adaala wa at-tanmiyyah biman‘a sha‘bibatihi min al-mushaarakah fii masiirat al-aHad,” Sabah 3377 (Feb. 20, 2011): 1. 13. Rachid Baha, “Ramid: Idha lam natbin al-malikiyyah al-baarlimaaniyyah sanakun khalf al-jumhuriyyiin,” Sabah 3404 (Mar. 23, 2011): 1. 14. Lahcen Daoudi, PJD parliamentary leader, interview by the author, Oct. 9, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 15. Matt Buehler, “The Threat to ‘Un-Moderate’: Moroccan Islamists and the Arab Spring,” 1–27. 16. Merouan Mekouar, Protest and Mass Mobilization: Authoritarian Collapse and Political Change in North Africa, 100–105. 17. Abdelwahad Radi, party president, Socialist Union of Popular Forces headquarters general assembly meeting, interview by the author, July 18, 2011, Rabat, Morocco. 18. Ihssan Elhafidi, “20 fibraayiir tafjiir khalifaat daakhil al-ittiHaad al-ishtiraakii,” Sabah 3380 (Feb. 23, 2011): 3. 19. “Al-sha‘biibah al-ittiHaadiyyah ghaaDibah,” Jaridat al-Oula (Dec. 3, 2011). 20. “Al-Himma yataHarrak ila al-wara’ wa yatruk al-baam,” Akhbar al-Yom 595 (Nov. 11, 2011): 1. 21. Abdelilah Benkirane, “Le PAM, c’est fini,” Actuel (Mar. 12–18, 2011): 21. 22. Halima Abrook, “Daoudi: Idha faaza al-baam fiil-intikhaabaat al-muqbilah kullanaa ghaadi nawallu Harakat ‘ashriin fibraayiir,” Akhbar al-Yom 1432 (July 13, 2011): 20. 23. Abdelmajid Ashraf, “Thamaaniyyah aHzaab ta’ssiis at-taHaaluf min ajl addemocratiyyah,” Annhar al-maghribia (June 10, 2011): 1–2.

Notes to Pages 169–75  ■  247 24. Lise Storm, Party Politics and the Prospects for Democracy in North Africa, 71. 25. Benkirane, interview by the author. 26. Ibid. 27. Ismail Hamoudi, “Hukuumat al-islaamiyyiin tash‘al at-tawattur daakhil al-ittiHaad al-ishtiraaki,” Akbar al-Yom 612 (Dec. 1, 2011): 3, 1. 28. D. Shehata, Islamists and Secularists, 83. 29. “Idriss Lachgar: Lam ad‘u yawmaan li taHaaluf ma‘a al-islaamiyyiin,” Majalat alMashad, Dec. 9–15, 2011, 7. 30. Mohamed As’adi, “Oualalou: Sa-nu‘aariD al-PJD bilquwa wa lan nataHaalaf ma‘a al-baam,” Akbar al-Yom 627 (Dec. 19, 2011): 3. 31. Hamoudi, “Hukuumat al-islaamiyyiin,” 3. 32. Tarik Rmili, USFP National Congress representative, interview by the author, July 15, 2015, Casablanca, Morocco. 33. “Al-Ziaadi: DughuuT kharijiyyah mumaarasat ‘ala al-ittiHaadiyyiin lilTaswiit lilachgar,” Likom, Dec. 19, 2012, www.lakome.com. 34. Ihssan el-Hafidi, chief political party journalist, as-Sabah newspaper, interview by the author, July 16, 2015, Casablanca, Morocco. 35. Dr. Houria Tazi Sadeq, former USFP National Congress representative and cofounder of the Democratic Alternative Party, interview by the author, July 18, 2015, Casablanca, Morocco. 36. Aissa Amourag, “Interview: Tariq Kabbage ‘Driss Lachgar se comporte en chef de clan,’” Maroc-Hebdo International 1126 (July 10–16, 2015): 20–21. 37. Rmili, interview by the author. 38. Mustapha Sehimi, “Les listes Benkirane,” Maroc Hebdo 969 (Mar. 9–15, 2012): 14–16. 39. Illustrative example: during Secretary of State Hillary Clinton’s 2012 Morocco visit, she met not only with Islamist foreign minister Saadedine Othmani but also with royal adviser for foreign affairs Taieb Fassi-Fihri (who was considered the key decision maker). 40. “Benkirane: Al-malik man yaHkum al-maghrib  .  .  . wa fahimtu Huduudi ma‘a al-Himma,” Hespress.com (Oct. 4, 2016), http://www.hespress.com/politique/323196.html ?print. 41. Samir el-Ouardighi, “Tariq Kabbage: Pourquoi nous avons perdu Agadir et les élections,” Medias24 (Sept. 10, 2015): 2. 42. Youssef Ait Akdim, “Au Maroc, la machine électorale des islamistes s’attaque au monde rural,” Le Monde (May 10, 2016). 43. ‘Ali Jawaat, “Tarek li-ikhwaan Benkirane: Innakum fii ad-Diffah as-SaHiiHah tuwaajihuun at-taHakkum wa tudaafi‘uun ‘an ad-democratiyyah,” Jaridat al-Oula (Dec. 26, 2016): http://alaoual.com/politique/29829.html.

248  ■  Notes to Pages 176–85 44. Mohamed Belqaasim, “Al-Malaki yad‘u ila qiyaas mushaarakat al-ittiHaadiyyiin fii al-Hukuumah bimantiq al-ribh,” (Oct. 11, 2016): http://www.hespress.com/politique /324245.html. 45. Ahmed Jedou, “Mauritania: Dreaming about the Fall of the Military State,” 2. 46. Raquel Ojeda García, “Mauritania tras la primavera árabe: Posicionamiento de Tawassoul en las elecciones de 2013,” 73–92. 47. “Ba‘d ayaam dammiyyah fii al-mahad al-‘aalii: Man yaksub ‘amiliyyaat al-kasar alidaarah bayna aT-Tulaab wa al-amin,” Essirage 1196 (Jan. 12, 2012): 3. 48. Ibid. 49. “Ash-shurTah ‘tastadif ’ Ould Dedew lisaa’aat,” al-Fajr 838 (Dec. 1, 2012): 3. 50. Md O. Md Lemine, “Les prémices d’une rupture inéluctable!,” Le Rénovateur 1219 (Jan. 11, 2012): 3. 51. Official statement, UFP Communications Department, Union of Forces of Progress, Feb. 2012, 1. 52. “Nuwaab al-mu‘aaraDah: Insihaabnaa raddaan ‘ala al-inqilaab daakhil al-baarliimaan,” el-Emel el-Jedid 1237 (Jan. 11, 2012): 5. 53. Tawassoul Party primary document statement, “IslaaH qabla fawaat al-awaan,” 1, 2. 54. Lemine, “Les prémices d’une rupture inéluctable!,” 3. 55. Jemil Ould Mansour, “Al-dars al-tuunisii,” Essebil 223 (Jan. 8, 2011): 6. 56. Moustapha Ould Badredine, UFP acting party president, interview by the author, Feb. 4, 2012, Nouakchott, Mauritania. 57. “Nuwaab al-mu‘aaraDah,” 1. 58. “Marhajaan al-ghaaDib,” Akhbar Nouakchott 1849 (Jan. 16, 2016): 3. 59. Jemal Ould Brahim, “De quel départ du Président Aziz parle-t-on?,” L’Authentique Quotidien 1517 (Jan. 23, 2012): 3. 60. Mohamed Gulaam al-Haaj al-Cheikh interview, “Mohamed Gulaam: naqbal bidawlat al-‘adaalah wa narfaD dawlat al-farD,” Essirage 198 (Jan. 23, 2012): 4. 61. Yahyah Ould al-Hamed, “Qiyaadah munasiqiyyah al-mu‘aaraDah takhtatim jawlat ‘ad-da‘wah li-iTaaH an-niDHaam’ wa Hizb al-Haakim yattahim bi-attaghid khaarij al-sarb,” Essahifa 416 (Jan. 24, 2016): 2–3. 62. Ahmedu Ould al-Nabaashm, “Naa’ib Mohamed Moustapha Ould Badredine fii muqaabalah shaamilah ma‘a al-Moostaqubal,” al-Moostaqubal al-Murataani 119 (Feb. 26, 2012): 3 63. “Aziz yarfaD al-intiqaal min ra’iis diktaatuurii ila ra’iis democraatii,” al-Fajr 848 (Feb. 16, 2012): 3. 64. “Jemil Ould Mansour: Tawassoul ablagha al-mansiqiyyah bi‘adam isti‘daadihi ‘ala ayy qaraar bimuqaati‘ al-intikhaabaat,” Birmogreine.net, Oct. 6, 2013, http://www.birmo greine.net/. 65. Mamoudou Kane, “Élections: L’unité de la coordination de l’opposition démocratique vole en éclats,” Radio France Internationale.

Notes to Pages 185–97  ■  249 66. “Ould Mansour: Man yantaDhir al-hurriyah wa ash-shafaafiyyah lan yushaarik fii al-intikhabaat,” Essirage, May 10, 2013, http://essirage.net/archive/index.php/news-and -reports/13877-2013-10-05-09-58-16.html. 67. Ahmedou Bouiyah Ould Abaniy, “Duktur Ahmed Ould al-Sayed: Tawassoul al’aan huwa al-laa‘ib ar-ra‘iisii biwaad al-naaqah,” Tawassoul Party website interview, 2015, http://www.tewassoul.mr/node/153. 68. Moulay Najim Ould Moulay Zeine, “Demain les Islamistes!?,” L’essentiel des Points Chauds du Maghreb et de l’Afrique Francophone, 107 (Dec. 2011–Jan. 2012): 2. 69. Mohamed N’amhu ‘Amar, “Hizb ‘al-Haraak al-sha‘baabii’ laysa Sana‘at al-qaSr arra’iisii,” Elhouriya 222 (Jan. 7, 2012): 4. 70. Ojeda García, “Mauritania,” 110. 71. “Ould Mansour: Hadafunaa qiyaadat ar-dawlah la za‘aamat al-mu‘aaraDah,” alAkhbar, Dec. 5, 2013, http://www.alakhbar.info/1203-0--CC0-F-F0.html. Conclusion 1. George and Bennett, Case Studies and Theory Development, 147–49. 2. Andreas Schedler, “Elections without Democracy: The Menu of Manipulation,” 36. 3. Clark, “Conditions of Islamist Moderation,” 540; Clark, “Threats, Structures, and Resources,” 101; Schwedler and Clark, “Islamist-Leftist Cooperation,” 10–11. 4. Lust-Okar, Structuring Conflict, 36–60. See also Ellen Lust, “Opposition and Economic Crises in Jordan and Morocco,” 143–50. 5. Kurt Weyland, Democracy without Equity: Failures of Reform in Brazil. 6. Daniel Brumberg, “The Trap of Liberalized Autocracy,” 56–58. 7. Daniel Brumberg, “Islamists and Politics of Consensus,” 115. 8. Zartman, “Opposition as Support of the state.” 9. Lust-Okar, Structuring Conflict, 159–60. 10. Snyder, “Scaling Down,” 94–98. 11. Some studies emphasizing strategic incentives for coalitions, include Van de Walle, “Tipping Games,” 105–27; Gandhi, “Coordination among Opposition Parties,” 1–2; and Clark, “Threats, Structures, and Resources.” 12. Gandhi, “Coordination among Opposition Parties,” 1–2. 13. Mounira M. Charrad, “Waves of Comparative and Historical Sociology,” 353. 14. Youcef Bouandel and Yahia Zoubir, “Algeria’s Elections: The Prelude to Democratization,” 183. 15. This finding echoes the vital work of Ellen Lust’s Program on Governance and Local Development, which examines issues of communal governance and local development in the Middle East. See also Janine Clark and Emanuela Dalmasso, “State Actor–Social Movement Coalitions and Policy-Making under Authoritarianism: Moroccan Party of Justice and Development in the Urban Municipality of Kenitra.”

250  ■  Notes to Pages 197–203 16. Clark, “Threats, Structures, and Resources,” 101; Clark, “Conditions of Islamist Moderation,” 540. 17. Abdelrahman, “With the Islamists?,” 45. 18. Theda Skocpol, States and Social Revolutions: A Comparative Analysis of France, Russia, and China, 285. 19. Reuter, “Politics of Dominant Party Formation,” 293–327. 20. Beatriz Magaloni, “Credible Power Sharing and Longevity of Authoritarian Rule,” 715–41. 21. Daniel Byman, Keeping the Peace: Lasting Solutions to Ethnic Conflicts, 84. See also Waterbury, “Endemic and Planned Corruption,” 545; Perthes, Arab Elites, 6; and Entelis, Comparative Politics of North Africa, 65–66. 22. Some examples include Mohamed Daadaoui, Moroccan Monarchy and the Islamist Challenge: Maintaining Makhzen Power, 68; and Malika Zeghal, Islamism in Morocco: Religion, Authoritarianism, and Electoral Politics, 175. 23. Sarah Feuer, Regulating Islam: Religion and the State in Post-colonial Morocco and Tunisia, 38–39, 200. 24. Juan Linz, “An Authoritarian Regime: Spain,” 300. 25. Cavatorta and Dalmasso, “Liberal Outcomes,” 487. 26. Paul Aarts and Francesco Cavatorta, “Civil Society in Syria and Iran,” 3–4. 27. Stacher, Adaptable Autocrats, 22; Josua, “Co-optation Reconsidered,” 32–56. 28. For example, see Clark, Islam, Charity, and Activism, 16; A. Kadir Yildirim, Muslim Democratic Parties, 8–9; Tarek Masoud, Counting Islam: Religion, Class, and Elections in Egypt, 98–101; and Samer Shehata and Josh Stacher, “The Brotherhood Goes to Parliament.” 29. Clark, Islam, Charity, and Activism, 16. 30. Ahmed Benchemsi, “Morocco: Outfoxing the Opposition,” 60. 31. Boukhars, Politics in Morocco, 109. 32. Abdeslam Maghraoui, “Morocco: The King’s Islamists,” 93–95. See also Zeghal, Islamism in Morocco, 175. 33. Storm, Party Politics, 181. 34. Wegner, Islamist Opposition, 83–84; Matt Buehler, “Threat to ‘Un-Moderate,’” 19–20. 35. Adria Lawrence, “Moroccans Vote Friday, but Neither Main Party Will Really Win,” Washington Post, Oct. 6, 2016, https://www.washingtonpost.com. 36. John Entelis, Culture and Counterculture in Moroccan Politics, 92–93. 37. Buehler, “Threat to ‘Un-Moderate,’” 17; Storm, Democratization in Morocco, 154. 38. Simon Martelli, “Protest over Morocco King’s Loyalty Ritual Highlights Tensions,” Agence France-Presse, Aug. 24, 2012. 39. Juan Linz, “Totalitarian and Authoritarian Regimes,” 3:272. 40. Ellen Lust, “Why Now? Micro-transitions and the Arab Uprisings,” 4.

Notes to Pages 204–8  ■  251 41. Some works in this vein include Marina Ottaway and Meredith Riley, “Morocco: Top-Down Reform without Democratic Transition,” 161–86. See also Entelis, Comparative Politics of North Africa, 66. 42. Entelis, Comparative Politics of North Africa, 67. 43. Barbara Geddes, “What Do We Know about Democratization after Twenty Years?,” 115–44. See also Barbara Geddes, Joseph Wright, and Erica Frantz, “Autocratic Breakdown and Regime Transitions: A New Data Set,” 320–21. 44. Jason Brownlee, “Portents of Pluralism: How Hybrid Regimes Affect Democratic Transitions,” 515–32; Michael Herb, All in the Family: Absolutism, Revolution, and Democracy in Middle Eastern Monarchies. 45. For an overview of key factors supporting the robustness of Arab regimes, see Eva Bellin, “Robustness of Authoritarianism.” 46. Michael Herb, “Monarchism Matters,” 11–12. 47. Sean Yom and Gregory Gause, “Resilient Royals: How Arab Monarchies Hang On,” 74. 48. Michael Ross, “Will Oil Drown the Arab Spring? Democracy and the Resource Curse,” 2–7. 49. Hicham Bou Nassif, “A Military Besieged: The Armed Forces, the Police, and the Party in Bin ‘Ali’s Tunisia, 1987–2011,” 65–87; Bellin, “Robustness of Authoritarianism,” 139–57; Mehran Kamrava, “Military Professionalization and Civil-Military Relations in the Middle East,” 67–92. 50. Jason Brownlee, Democracy Prevention: The Politics of the U.S.-Egypt Alliance; Thomas Ambrosio, “Democratic States and Authoritarian Firewalls: America as Black Knight in the Uprising in Bahrain.” 51. Benchemsi, “Morocco: Outfoxing the Opposition,” 57. 52. Rex Brynen et al., “Beyond the Arab Spring: Authoritarianism and Democratization in the Arab World,” 181. 53. Theda Skocpol and Margaret Somers, “The Uses of Comparative History in Macrosocial Research,” 174–97. 54. John Waterbury, “Peasants Defy Categorization (as Well as Landlords and the State),” 4. See also Leveau, Le Fellah marocain défenseur du trône; and Binder, In a Moment of Enthusiasm. 55. Henry Munson, “The Social Base of Islamic Militancy in Morocco,” 269. 56. Lust, “Missing the Third Wave,” 172. 57. Philbrick Yadav, Islamists and the State, 157–65. 58. Schwedler, “Can Islamists Become Moderates?,” 365–68. 59. Carrie Rosefsky Wickham, “The Path to Moderation: Strategy and Learning in Egypt’s Wasat Party,” 205–28; Browers, Political Ideology in the Arab World, 130–32, 160–67; Philbrick Yadav, Islamists and the State.

252  ■  Notes to Pages 208–12 60. See Schwedler’s analysis of Wickham’s important work in “Can Islamists Become Moderates?,” 362–63. 61. Thanks to Jillian Schwedler for this insightful observation. 62. Catherine Boone, “Decentralization as Political Strategy in West Africa,” 366–67. 63. Pearl T. Robinson, “Niger: Anatomy of a Neotraditional Corporatist State,” 1–20. 64. Boone, Political Topographies of the African State, 332–33. 65. L. J. Frederics and R. J. G. Wells, “Some Aspects of Tenancy Reform Measures in Southeast Asia,” 644. 66. Daniel Treisman, After the Deluge: Regional Crises and Political Consolidation in Russia. 67. Kazemi and Abrahamian, “Non-revolutionary Peasantry,” 293. 68. Sean Yom, “Tribal Politics in Contemporary Jordan: The Case of the Hirak Movement,” 229–33; Curtis Ryan, “Political Opposition and Reform Coalitions in Jordan,” 282–83. 69. On Kuwait, see Sean Yom, “Oil, Coalitions, and Regime Durability: The Origins and Persistence of Popular Rentierism in Kuwait,” 225. On Oman, see Marc Valeri, Oman: Politics and Society in the Qaboos State, 40–50. On Saudi Arabia, see Herb, All in the Family, 67–109. 70. Lust, “Missing the Third Wave,” 163. 71. Michael Willis, The Islamist Challenge in Algeria, 340–42, 346–47. 72. J. N. C. Hill, Identity in Algerian Politics: The Legacy of Colonial Rule, 201.

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Index Mauritanian names containing “Ould” or “Mint” are alphabetized under O or M. Page numbers in italics refer to illustrative matter.

Aarts, Paul, 199 Abbou, Mohamed, 87 Abdelrahman, Maha, 197 Abid, Abdellatif, 55 abortion, 15–16, 69 Aboughali, Salaheddine, 72 Abrahamian, Ervand, 210 Achaari, Mohammed, 97, 129 Aftati, Abdelaziz, 130–31, 166–67 Agadir (Morocco), 131–34, 135–36 agnatic relationships, 30, 39 Aherdane, Mahjoubi, 44, 46 Ahmed, Eqbal, 143 al-Alami, Rachid Talbi, 96, 134–36 Albrecht, Holger, 19, 36 alcohol, 68, 69 Alexander, Christopher, 145 Algeria, 9, 197, 211–12 alliance durability, 1–12, 190–212; breaking tactics, 32–33; definitions of, 22, 225n33; formation vs. endurance, 22–23; future scholarship on, 192, 206–12; key findings, 192–206; methodologies for studying, 7–12, 14–15, 20–25, 36, 121–22, 190; theories of, 4–7, 14, 15–20, 25–38, 27,

148, 155, 157–58, 190–206; variations in, 34 alternance, 3, 63 Anderson, Lisa, 57 antiterrorism law, 29, 52, 56–60, 86–87 Arab-Islamic identity, 88 Arab Unionist Teachers (Mauritania), 74 Arab uprisings, 159–89, 194–97; Mauritania and, 2–4, 156, 159–60, 178–89, 194, 205; monarchies vs. nonmonarchies and, 205; Morocco and, 2–4, 149, 159–60, 166–78, 185–89, 194, 195, 197, 202, 205; Tunisia and, 1, 90, 93, 159, 160–66, 185, 194–95, 197, 212 Arbawi, Makdad, 88 artwork, 161 al-Assad, Bashar, 184 assassinations: Ben Barka and, 61; of Ben Youssef, 42; of Choukri Belaid, 162–63; of Farhat Hached, 144; of Mohamed Brahmi, 162–63; of Omar Benjelloun, 68, 172, 206–7; of Tunisian activists, 173 Association of Tunisian Judges, 59 AttijariWafa Bank, 151

275

276  ■  Index authoritarian regimes, 198–206; democratization and, 16–20; formation of, 5–6, 25–33, 39–40, 89, 105, 190–93, 212; illiteracy and, 26, 30, 31, 32, 212; importance of regime type, 204–6; monarchical vs. nonmonarchical, 18–19, 30, 37, 204–6, 209; relapses into, 14; “ruling coalition” and, 36, 227n75; social theory of, 5–6, 25–33 Ayadi, Abderrraouf, 87 Azzouzi, Abderrahmane, 154

Baba, Sidiya, 49 Bahiri, Nouridine, 162 Bahrain, 211 baldi politicians, 40–41 Banfield, Edward, 31 banning, of opposition parties, 24 Baroudi, Mohamed, 162 Barwig, Andrew, 72 Belaid, Choukri, 162–63 Belalaali family, 111–12 Belkora, Aboubakr, 112–13 Bellin, Eva, 153 Ben Ali, Zine el-Abidine: alliances formed, 24, 94, 200, 202; appointment of, 54; coups, 56–57; deposes Bourguiba, 54; downfall of, 1, 2, 56–57, 90, 160, 164; exile of, 90; labor unions and, 146–47; protests and, 166–67; succession of, 87, 88 Ben Amor, Samir, 2 Benbakr, Noureddine, 131 Ben Barka, Mehdi, 44, 46, 61, 144 Benin, Joel, 144 Ben Jaafar, Mustapha, 55, 56, 57, 60, 88, 92 Benjelloun, Omar, 68, 172, 206–7 Benkhobza, Ahmed, 134–35

Benkirane, Abdelilah: Arab uprisings and, 3, 166, 168, 169–78; da’wa movement and, 63–65; Lachgar and, 94, 98; PJD and, 98–99, 128; protests and, 3 Bennett, Andrew, 190 Bennour, Mohamed, 93 Ben Salah, Ahmed, 145 Bensouda, Ahmed, 64 Ben Youssef, Salah, 41–42 Bergh, Sylvia, 102, 123 Bessis, Juliette, 143 Bidan, 48, 230nn63–64 black Arabs, 48, 74–75, 78–79, 115, 142, 155–57 Black Thursday riots, 53, 146 Boone, Catherine, 6, 209–10 Bouabid, Abderrahim, 61, 62, 97 Boubari, Zakari, 65 Boughlem, Mohamed, 65, 108–10, 199 Boukhars, Anouar, 66, 201–2 Boulby, Marion, 54 Boulif, Najib, 127 Bourguiba, Habib: Ben Ali deposes, 54; colonial rule and, 40–42; commune rule under, 45, 50, 123, 125, 200; labor unions and, 144–47; party rule and, 50–51; reinforces rule, 54; on role of social structures, 44; urban communities under, 123, 125, 200; women’s rights and, 56 Brahmi, Mohamed, 162–63 Brazil, 193 bread riots, 54 Browers, Michaelle, 20, 208 Brownlee, Jason, 38, 204 Brumberg, Daniel, 193 Brynen, Rex, 205 Burst the Youth for the Nation (Mauritania), 186–87

Index  ■  277 Byman, Daniel, 198

Call of Tunis Agreement, 60 Cameroon, 209 Cammett, Melani, 56, 122 Cavatorta, Francesco, 18, 54, 89, 199 censorship, 69 Centrale Laitière, 151 CGTM (General Confederation of Mauritanian Laborers) (Mauritania), 154–57 Chatibi, Driss, 109, 171 Choubani, Habib, 166–67 Choukri, Abdelkarim, 71 Christian-Muslim conflict, 210–11 civic participation, 19 civil rights, 86–87, 92 Clark, Janine, 16, 22, 102, 148, 192, 195, 197, 200 clientelism, 190–212; colonial rule and, 40, 43, 48; co-optation and, 5, 10, 38, 75, 96, 97, 100, 102, 111–12; defined, 51; elections and, 62, 65, 67, 70–73; evolution of, 39–40; illiteracy and, 26, 30, 31, 39, 67, 96, 191; postcolonial rule and, 44–47, 51; regime formation and, 26, 27–33, 38; as reward, 6, 76–77, 199; transhumance and, 97; uprooting, 114–15, 184; weakening of, 141–42 Clinton, Hillary, 247n39 CLTM (Free Confederation of Mauritanian Laborers), 155 CNTN (National Confederation of Mauritanian Laborers) (Mauritania), 154–57 Coalition of Forces for Democratic Change (CFCD) (Mauritania), 137–41

Coalition of the Majority (Mauritania), 186–87 collectivization, 42 colonial rule, 40–49, 51, 125 commitment-based theories, 5, 17–18, 34–35 Committee for the Defense of Mohamed Abbou, 87 Communal Charter of 1885, 41 communes, 121–58; baldi politicians, 41; centralization and, 41, 214n4; charters for, 41; colonial rule and, 41; control over, 49, 125–27; co-optation and, 96–120; definitions of, 34, 40, 227n73; development funds for, 54; financial support for, 54, 102, 110, 118, 125–26, 136, 139, 140, 199; formation of, 40, 44, 122–23; laws for, 49, 50; postcolonial rule and, 42, 44–47, 50; powers of, 124; restructuring of, 42; statistical analysis of, 8, 100–113, 124; transhumance and, 97 Congress for the Republic Party (CPR) (Tunisia): alliances, 15, 28–29, 60, 88, 160, 161–65; anti-Islamic art and, 161; Arab uprising and, 160–66; defense of Abbou and, 87; elections and, 91, 92; exile of leadership, 89, 90; founding of, 54. See also Troika Alliance (Tunisia) Congress of the Socialist International (2002), 69 Constitutionalist Union (Tunisia), 112 Constitutionalist Union (UC) (Morocco), 62–63, 129, 171 co-optation: defection and, 38; definitions of, 14, 36; dynamics of, 27, 33, 36–38, 71–73, 75, 85–86, 96–113, 114–17, 131, 187, 191, 198–206; electoral factors, 105; illiteracy and, 39,

278  ■  Index co-optation (cont.) 100, 102, 104–5, 106, 119, 140, 208; illustrative examples of, 108–13; labor unions and, 37, 121–22, 191; microdynamics of, 38, 199–200; repression vs., 6, 89; social structural variables, 104–5, 190; strategic effects of, 3, 4, 6, 27, 33; studies of, 8, 14, 36–38, 100, 101–13, 106, 107, 119, 121–22, 190; transhumance and, 97; vulnerability to, 5, 86 Coordination of Democratic Opposition (COD) (Mauritania), 179, 182–88 Coppolani, Xavier, 48–49 corruption: campaigns against, 83, 88, 114–15, 128–29, 132, 134–36, 139–40, 180; 18 October Alliance platform and, 88; Ennahda and, 162; exposing, 172–73; Islamic values and, 63, 88; local government and, 128–29, 132, 134–36, 139–40 Cosumar Group, 151 Coulibaly, Yahya, 142 coups: banning of, 181; democratization and, 13, 24; in Egypt, 163, 164; in Mauritania, 4, 28–29, 53, 75–76, 79, 80–83, 113–15, 137, 140, 155–56, 181, 203–4; in Morocco, 47, 61, 108, 167–68; in Tunisia, 57, 163 cross-ideological alliances, 1, 10, 15–16, 86, 88, 147, 186, 206, 207–8

Dahmane, Abdelilah, 148, 153–54 Daoudi, Lahcen, 69, 94, 113, 128, 167, 168 Democratic Alternative party (Morocco), 172, 174 Democratic and Social Republican Party (PRDS) (Mauritania), 76–78, 81, 82, 116, 137

Democratic Constitutional Rally (RCD) (Tunisia), 58, 91–93, 161 Democratic Federation of Labor (FDT) (Morocco), 147, 152 Democratic Federation of Labor (Morocco), 28–29 Democratic Forum for Labor and Liberties (Tunisia), 54, 92 democratization: cohesive alliances and, 16; regimes and, 16–20; role of opposition parties in, 1–2, 13–14, 16; role of social base in, 31; scholarship on, 192–93; third wave of, 13–14 Derhem, Hassan, 67, 171 Diallo, Hawa Adama, 139–40 djellabas, 62

Egypt: alliances in, 10, 18, 197, 210; clientelism in, 30, 38; co-optation in, 36, 38; coups in, 163, 164; divided institutions in, 19; “localities” in, 123; Muslim Brotherhood, 23; political parties in, 70, 94, 174; Tamarod movement, 173; uprisings in, 1, 185, 207, 212 18 October Alliance (Tunisia), 52, 60, 85–89, 92, 159–60. See also Troika Alliance (Tunisia) electoral laws: authoritarian institutions and, 18–20, 193–94; banning of proclamations, 125; co-optation and, 97, 198–99; democratization and, 192–93; electoral competition, 76; electoral precincts and, 45–46; integrity of elections, 57; manipulation of, 5, 11, 132; opposition parties and, 126, 193–94; prerequisites for mayor and, 108; technocratic ministers and, 163

Index  ■  279 electoral participation: authoritarian institutions and, 18–20, 185–87, 192–93; manipulation of, 5; opposition parties and, 56, 59, 61, 202–3; rates of, 70 elite class: capitalist, 226n68; co-optation and, 106–7, 198; ideology and, 112; illiteracy and, 110, 112; incorporation of, 46; influence of, 40; Istiqlal and, 44; “ruling bargain” with, 36–37, 209–10; as traditional politicians, 36–37, 110 Ennahda Party (Tunisia), 207; alliances, 15, 28–29, 60, 88, 89, 160–64; antiIslamic art and, 161; Arab-Islamic identity, 87; Arab uprisings and, 160–66; co-optation tactics and, 89; elections and, 57–58, 91–92; exile of leadership, 89, 90; Moroccan Islamist leaders and, 176; name change, 53; social bases and, 53–56. See also Troika Alliance (Tunisia) Entelis, John, 40, 204 Ettakatol Party (Tunisia): alliances, 15, 28–29, 60, 88, 160, 161, 165; antiIslamic art and, 161; Arab uprisings and, 93, 160, 161, 163–64, 165; co-optation tactics and, 89; elections and, 91, 92; founding of, 54–56; women’s rights and, 59–60. See also Troika Alliance (Tunisia) European socialism, 24 expression, freedom of, 86–87, 161

al-Fajr (newspaper), 58 family law reform, 68–69, 206 al-Fassi, Abbas, 148, 150 Fassi-Fihri, Taieb, 247n39 favoritism, 139–40

FDT (Democratic Federation of Labor) (Morocco), 147, 152 February 20th Movement (Morocco), 2, 149–50, 166–68, 178 February 25th Movement (Mauritania), 178–81 films, 161 FNDD (National Front for the Defense of Democracy) (Mauritania), 83, 113–20, 156, 159. See also Coordination of Democratic Opposition (COD) (Mauritania) Foster, Noel, 237n173 Free Confederation of Mauritanian Laborers (CLTM), 155 freedom of expression, 86–87, 161 freedom of religion, 161, 166–67 French Communist Party, 143 French rule, 30, 40–44, 48–49, 74, 122–23, 125 Front for the Defense of Constitutional Institutions (FDIC) (Morocco), 46, 70

Gaddafi, Muammar, 1, 184 Gandhi, Jennifer, 17, 18, 165, 195 Gause, Gregory, 19, 205 Geddes, Barbara, 204 G-8 alliance, 169–70, 172, 186 gender equality, 15–16, 56, 69, 92, 103–4, 142, 206 General Confederation of Mauritanian Laborers (CGTM) (Mauritania), 154–57 George, Andrew, 190 Germany, 27–30 Gerteiny, Alfred, 49 Ghannouchi, Rachid, 53–54, 57–58, 59, 90, 163–64, 176

280  ■  Index Guédira, Ahmed Réda, 44, 46–47, 70, 129, 204 Gulf states, 8–9, 210, 211

Hached, Farhat, 143, 144 Hafidi, Mohamed, 133 Hajji, Lufti, 59 Hakkoui, Bassima, 69 Halperin, Manfred, 39, 144 Hamieddine, Abdelali, 166–67 Hammoudi, Abdellah, 111 Hassan II (king), 44, 46, 50, 98, 108 Herb, Michael, 204 Hermassi, Elbaki, 42 Higher Institute for Islamic Studies and Research (Mauritania), 179–81 Hill, J. N. C., 212 al-Himma, Fouad Ali: banning of Islamists, 68, 69, 70; co-optation tactics of, 71, 73, 99; as king’s advisor, 173–74, 204; Movement for All Democrats, 69–71; PAM and, 53, 70–71, 73, 94, 96, 97, 99, 168–69; political party law and, 97; resignation of, 168 hunger strikes, 79, 86 Huntington, Samuel, 30 Huwaat, Mohamed, 72–73

Iberian Peninsula, 13–14 Ibrahim, Abdallah, 61 ideological conflict, theory of, 5 illiteracy: anti-illiteracy campaigns, 139; clientelism and, 26, 30, 31, 39, 67, 96, 191; co-optation and, 39, 100, 102, 104–5, 106, 119, 140, 208; elections and, 47, 62, 67, 80, 96, 110, 111, 112, 174; regime formation and, 26, 30, 31, 32, 212

Independence Party (Istiqlal) (Morocco), 43, 44, 97 Independents (Morocco), 62 INDH (Mohamed VI National Human Development Initiative), 102, 104 Initiative Party (Tunisia), 91 institution-based theories: defined, 5; divide-and-rule strategies, 18–20, 25, 193, 194; durability and, 33–36, 192–94; monarchical vs. nonmonarchical regimes and, 18–19, 30, 37, 204–6, 209; social structuralist approach vs., 11–12 Internet, access to, 178–79 Iran, 17–18, 30, 207, 210 al-Islah (newspaper), 63–64 Islah Party (Yemen), 20 Islamic Salvation Front (Algeria), 197 Islamic Tendency Movement (Tunisia), 53. See also Ennahda Party (Tunisia) Islamic Youth (Morocco), 63 Islamist parties, 2–12, 14–15; collapsible and enduring alliances, 28–29; defined, 23–25; execution of Islamists, 54; social bases of, 53–56, 60–67, 73–80, 83–84. See also leftIslamist alliances; specific party Israel, 69, 87 Istiqlal (Independence Party) (Morocco), 43, 44, 97

Jamal, Amaney, 18–19 Jebali, Hamadi, 161, 163–64 Jelassi, Abdel Hamid, 161, 162 el-Jid, Mohamed Benaissa Ait, 64 John, Elton, 69 Jordan, 10, 16, 19, 36, 144, 210 Josua, Maria, 199 Jourde, Cédric, 38

Index  ■  281 Justice and Charity Movement (Morocco), 25

Kabbage, Tariq, 67, 131–33, 172, 174 Kadihine movement (Mauritania), 75, 79–80 Kasbah protests, 90 Kazemi, Farhad, 210 el-Khalfi, Mustapha, 95, 98 kinship-based relationships, 30, 39, 209 Kuwait, 19, 210

labor unions, 142–58; alliance durability and, 4, 7, 11, 15, 33, 34, 122, 191, 192, 194, 196, 197, 200; co-optation and, 37, 121–22, 191; coordination of, 142–45; in Mauritania, 21–22, 33, 34, 74, 121–22, 142–45, 147, 154–58, 194, 196, 200; in Morocco, 21–22, 33, 34, 61, 64, 121–22, 142–45, 147–54, 157–58, 194, 196, 197, 200; number and growth of, 144; role of, 144; threat-based policy and, 148; in Tunisia, 21–22, 53, 90, 142–47, 197. See also strikes; specific union Lachgar, Driss: alliances and, 94–95, 128, 129, 131, 170, 176, 177–78; cooptation dynamics of, 96–100, 105, 131, 199, 201; election of, 171–72; PAM and, 73 Larayedah, Ali, 164 Larémont, Ricardo René, 25 Latin America, 193, 198 Lazrak, Rachid, 95 Lebanon, 210 left-Islamist alliances, 2–12, 15, 52–84; chart of, 27; collapsible and enduring, 28–29, 127–36; methodologies

for studying, 33–38; motivational factors, 52–53, 56–57; policy of political efficacy, 65; revitalization of, 166–78; social bases of, 53–56, 60–67, 73–80, 83–84, 234n92. See also labor unions leftist parties, 2–12, 14–15; defined, 23–25; social bases of, 53–56, 60–67, 73–80, 83–84, 234n92. See also specific party Le Journal Hebdomadaire, 94 Leveau, Rémy, 46, 61, 229n51 Libya, 1, 164, 184 Linz, Juan, 198–99, 203 Lipset, Seymour Martin, 27–31 Lipton, Michael, 39–40 local government/power, 70–73, 121–58, 197–98; central government vs., 21, 126; colonialism and, 40–41, 43; postcolonialism and, 42; regime power and, 26, 105; “republics of cousins,” 39; “son of soil” politicians, 70–71. See also communes; tribal politics/relations Luong, Pauline Jones, 122 Lust, Ellen, 18–20, 197, 203, 211, 249n15 Lyautey, Hubert, 43–44

makhzan system (Morocco), 36–37 Malaysia, 210 al-Maliki, Habib, 65–66, 176, 177 Managem Group, 151 Mandela, Nelson, 56 al-Manfalouti, Khadiji, 104 Maoism, 75 Marchesin, Philippe, 77 Marock (film), 69 Marty, Marianne, 76 Marxist-inspired ideologies, 23–24

282  ■  Index Marzouki, Moncef: Abbou and, 87; blocking of, 158; on Brahmi assassination, 163; campaign of, 56; on collapse of Troika, 164; CPR and, 15, 55–56, 57, 92, 160, 162; on division, 88; elections, 92, 162–63; exile of, 87, 89, 90; imprisonment of, 56; on opposition parties, 59; presidency of, 92; return of, 90; on secularism, 92; Troika Alliance and, 60, 160, 164; Tunisian National Pact and, 57 el-Maslouhi, Abderrahim, 24, 234n92 Mauritania, 1–12, 190–212; alliances in, 15, 20–25, 28–29, 33–38, 80–83, 113–20, 137–42, 178–88; centralization in, 140; constitution of, 76, 78, 81, 115, 116, 181–82, 183; detached rule in, 48–49, 51; elections in, 75, 76–78, 81–82, 115–16, 127, 138, 184–88, 237n173; ethnic groups in, 48, 74–75, 78–80, 142, 155–57; postcolonial rule in, 49–51, 122–23, 190–91; protests and riots in, 78, 114, 156, 166–67, 178–81, 183–84, 205; Reform before It’s Too Late (report), 182; social bases in, 32, 39–40, 73–80, 83–84, 141, 190–91, 226n68; social media in, 178–79; youth mobilization in, 155, 178–81, 186–87. See also communes Mauritanian People’s Party, 50 Mayfield, James, 123 M’barek, Mohamed, 115 Merone, Fabio, 18, 54, 89 Mestiri, Ahmed, 55, 89 Mexico, 198 middle class: alliance durability and, 121–22, 137, 139, 154, 198, 200; issues important to, 128–29, 133–34, 135, 139; labor unions and, 53, 122,

147–49, 151, 153, 155, 157; leftist party affiliation and, 55–56, 60–61, 62, 63, 64, 83, 170–71; “middle-class compromise,” 89; postcolonial urban, 41, 43; regime formation and, 26, 27, 31, 32, 33, 34, 39–40, 89; reliance on, 83–84, 89, 91, 100, 121–22 Middle East and North Africa (MENA), 8, 20–21, 25, 27–30, 192–93, 198, 204, 210–12. See also specific country Military Council for Justice and Democracy (CMJD) (Mauritania), 81 Mint Cherif, Lalla, 186–87 MND (National Democratic Movement) (Mauritania), 74 Mohamed VI National Human Development Initiative (INDH), 102, 104 Mohammed V (sultan), 43–44 Mohammed VI (king), 70, 85, 86 Montserrat, 144 Moore, Barrington, 196 Moore, Clement Henry, 41, 42, 46–47 Moore, Pete, 205 Morjane, Kamal, 91 Moroccan Workers’ Union (UMT), 61, 143 Morocco, 1–12, 190–212; alliances in, 15, 20–25, 28–29, 33–38, 68–73, 94–113, 127, 131–36, 166–78; budgets, 123–24; colonial rule in, 43–44, 51, 144; constitution of, 46, 63, 97, 145, 167, 168; divided institutions in, 19; elections in, 45–47, 60–61, 62–63, 65–67, 68, 72–73, 101, 124, 127, 129–31, 168–69, 174–78; makhzan system, 36–37; nationalist movement in, 144; postcolonial rule in, 44–45, 122–23, 190–91; protests and riots in, 2–3, 4, 43, 133, 148–54, 166–68, 173, 178, 205; rise in Islamist power in, 68; settlements in,

Index  ■  283 49; social bases in, 32, 39–40, 60–67, 83–84, 128, 134, 153, 174–75, 190–91, 226n68, 234n92; terrorist attacks in, 66, 68; youth mobilization in, 150–51, 156, 167–68. See also communes al-Moutassim, Jama’a, 113, 166 Mouti, Abdelkrim, 63 Mouvement des démocrates socialistes (MDS) (Tunisia), 55, 89 Movement for All Democrats (Morocco), 69–70 MP (Popular Movement) (Morocco), 46, 129, 172 Mubarak, Hosni, 1, 70, 94 Munson, Henry, 61 Murphy, Emma, 89 Muslim Brotherhood, 23

Najib, Abdnasr, 111 Najib, Mohamed, 111 National Accord, 169 National Confederation of Mauritanian Laborers (CNTM) (Mauritania), 154–57 National Democratic Movement (MND) (Mauritania), 74 National Democratic Party (Egypt), 38, 70 National Democratic Union (UND) (Mauritania), 75 National Front for Democracy (Morocco), 94–96, 97, 99, 127, 131, 169, 194 National Front for the Defense of Democracy (FNDD) (Mauritania), 83, 113–20, 156, 179. See also Coordination of Democratic Opposition (COD) (Mauritania) National Investment Company, 150–51

National Liberation Front (Algeria), 211 National Rally for Reform and Development (Mauritania). See Tawassoul Party (Mauritania) National Rally of Independents (RNI) (Mauritania), 82 National Rally of Independents (RNI) (Morocco), 62, 96, 97, 129, 132–36, 168, 170, 173, 177 National Union for Teachers (Mauritania), 74 National Union of Moroccan Labor (UNTM) (Morocco), 64, 147, 152 National Union of Popular Forces (UNFP) (Morocco), 44. See also Socialist Union of Popular Forces (USFP) (Morocco) N’Diaye, Boubacar, 81, 82 Nellis, John, 125–26 Neo-Destour party, 41, 144 Nidaa Tounes party, 165 Niger, 209 Nobel Peace Prize, 93 No God, No Matter (film), 161

O’Donnell, Guillermo, 16 Oman, 210 el-Omari, Ilyas, 96, 173 opportunity structures, 16, 27 opposition alliances/parties, 13–38; banning of, 24; definitions of, 22–25; dilution of, 169; formation vs. endurance, 22–23, 34–35; importance of, 13–15; motivational factors, 52–53; opposition vs. oppositions, 170; stability of, 1–2, 52; theories of, 4–7, 15–21, 22, 25–33, 33–38, 52, 122, 190–91, 192–206. See also alliance durability; specific party

284  ■  Index opposition coordination, 33 Osman, Ahmad, 204 Othmani, Saadeddine, 69, 166–67, 221n8, 247n39 Ottoman Empire, 40–41 Oulalou, Fathallah, 170, 171–72 Ould Abdel Aziz, Mohamed: Arab uprisings and, 180–88; centralization policy, 140–42; co-optation and, 85, 86, 114–20, 119, 140–41, 154, 156–57; coups, 53, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 113–14, 140, 155–56; firing of, 83; labor unions and, 155–57; UPR and, 204 Ould Ahmed, Ahmed Salem, 140 Ould Ahmed Salem, Zekeria, 76 Ould Badredine, Moustapha, 75, 181, 183, 184 Ould Beye, Samoury, 156–57 Ould Boulkheir, Messoud, 115 Ould Cheikh Abdallahi, Sidi, 82–83 Ould Cheikh Ahmed, Lemrabott Sidi Mahmoud, 116, 138, 203 Ould Daddah, Ahmed, 77–79, 82, 115, 117 Ould Daddah, Moktar, 49–51, 75, 77 Ould Dedew, Mohamed el-Hacen, 76, 180 Ould Ghazwani, Mohamed, 81 Ould Hamza, Ahmed, 138, 140 Ould Heydallah, Mohamed Khouna, 75 Ould Lemine, Mohamed Mahmoud, 114–15, 116 Ould Mah, Mohamed Mahmoud, 75–76 Ould Mansour, Jemil: alliances and, 113–16; Arab uprisings and, 180, 181– 83, 185, 187; education of, 76; election of, 78, 127; exile of, 79; imprisonment of, 78, 79; return of, 79 Ould Salek, Mohamed Ahmed, 143 Ould Salek, Mustafa, 75

Ould Sidi Bab, Mohamed Lemine, 74–75 Ould Taya, Ma’aouya Sid Ahmed, 35, 75–83, 116, 117, 118, 137–39, 155, 180, 203–4

party identification, clientelist ties and, 46 party legality, manipulation of, 5 Party of Authenticity and Modernity (PAM) (Morocco), 129–31; alliances, 28–29, 94–96; Arab uprisings and, 168, 173–74; co-optation dynamics and, 96–100, 101–3, 110, 131; formation and expansion of, 53, 70–73, 94, 95–96, 175; PJD and, 73, 94, 95, 168 Party of Justice and Development (PJD) (Morocco): alliances, 15, 28–29, 99, 169–70, 185; Arab uprisings and, 166–67, 168, 169–70, 173, 185; elections, 174; founding of, 63; modernity and, 69, 70; PAM and, 73, 94, 95, 168; political prisoners, 113, 167; protests and, 166–67; rise of, 25; social base of, 67; USFP and, 69, 98, 128–30 Party of Renaissance and Virtue (Morocco), 25 Pazzanita, Anthony, 77 Pellicer, Miquel, 96 Persepolis (film), 161 Perthes, Volker, 37 Petition Party (Tunisia), 92–93 Philbrick-Yadav, Stacey, 208 Philippines, 210 Pierson, Paul, 26 Popular Movement (MP) (Morocco), 46, 129, 172 Portugal, 13 postcolonial rule, 41–42, 44–45, 49–51, 122–23, 190–91

Index  ■  285 PRDR (Republican Party for Democracy and Renewal) (Mauritania), 81, 82, 137 PRDS (Democratic and Social Republican Party) (Mauritania), 76–78, 81, 82, 116, 137 pre/post-material grassroots constituencies, 31 private/public-regarding constituencies, 31 Progressive Democratic Party (Tunisia), 162 protests and riots. See under specific country public goods, co-optation and, 36–37

Qatar, 180, 211

Radi, Abdelwahad, 113, 170, 171 Radi, Idriss, 171 Ramid, Mostafa, 69, 94, 131, 166–67; censorship and, 69 RCD (Democratic Constitutional Rally) (Tunisia), 58, 91–93, 161 Reform before It’s Too Late (Mauritania), 182 religion, freedom of, 161, 166–67 repression: co-optation vs., 6, 89; dynamics of, 41–42, 52, 54, 58–60, 75, 79, 180–81, 186; as tactic, 20, 27, 33, 56, 89, 93, 198, 202–3 Republican Party for Democratic and Renewal (PRDR) (Mauritania), 81, 82, 137 Reuter, Ora John, 38 Revolutionary Option, The (Ben Barka), 61 riots. See under specific country RNI (National Rally of Independents) (Mauritania), 82

RNI (National Rally of Independents) (Morocco), 62, 96, 97, 129, 132–36, 168, 170, 173, 177 Root, Hilton, 30 rural incorporation, 30 Russia, 38, 198, 210

Sadiki, Larbi, 57 Salafists, 161 Saleh, Ali Abdullah, 1 Salloukh, Bassel, 205 Sant’Egidio Platform, 211 Santucci, Jean-Claude, 62 Sassi, Mohammed, 67 Sater, James, 68 Saudi Arabia, 19, 210 Schmitter, Philippe, 16 Schwedler, Jillian, 23, 192, 208 Second Communal Charter of 1914, 41 Senegal, 48, 49, 209 Shabatou, Said, 65–66, 100 Shagir, Abdelwahab, 71 Sharon, Ariel, 87 Shehata, Dina, 18, 170 Shukri, Ismail, 132 Skocpol, Theda, 196, 205 Snoussi, Moulay Ahmed, 65 Snyder, Jack, 34 social bases: in Mauritania, 32, 73–80, 83–84, 141, 190–91, 226n68; in Morocco, 32, 60–67, 83–84, 128, 134, 153, 174–75, 190–91, 226n68, 234n92; realignment of, 26–32, 52, 54, 67, 100, 203; role of, 31, 190–91; “son of soil” politicians, 70–71; static nature of, 52; in Tunisia, 40–47, 53–56, 83–84, 190–91. See also elite class; middle class; tribal politics/relations social engineering, 45–46, 49

286  ■  Index Socialist Destourian Party (Tunisia), 54 socialist ideologies, 23–24 Socialist International, 23 Socialist Union of Popular Forces (USFP) (Morocco): alliances, 15, 28–29, 94, 95, 97, 98–99, 135, 169; Arab uprisings and, 167, 169–70, 171; Omar Benjelhoun and, 172; co-optation dynamics and, 97–99, 101, 111, 167; elections and, 62, 66, 67, 95, 128; oppositions and, 170; PJD and, 69, 98, 128–30; platform of, 69; renaming, 44, 61–62; social base of, 67, 129 social movement theory, 16, 37 social theory, 4–7, 25–33 socio-economics, 55–56, 87, 102, 104–5, 119. See also illiteracy Somers, Margaret, 205 “son of soil” politicians, 70–71 Southeast Asia, 210 Sow, Moussa Demba, 118 Spain, 13–14, 57 Stacher, Joshua, 36, 38, 199 strikes: Black Thursday riots, 53, 146; hunger, 79, 86; in Mauritania, 74, 79; of miners, 74, 143; in Morocco, 61, 143, 144, 145, 149–54; in Tunisia, 53, 86, 87, 145, 146 “structures of contestation” theory, 19 students: death of, 173; employment and, 87, 144; mobilization of, 74–75; oppression of, 184; protests by, 173, 178–81, 206–7; recruitment of, 53–54; as social base, 64 Sultan, Leon, 143 symbology, monarchical, 62, 198–99, 202–3 Syria, 144, 164, 184, 210

Tamarod Maroc, 173 Tarek, Hassan, 69, 94–95, 169–70, 175–76 Tarrow, Sidney, 16 Tawassoul Party (Mauritania), 15, 28–29, 74, 76, 116–17, 187, 237n173 teachers, 74–75, 151 terrorism, 29, 52, 56–60, 66, 86–87 Tessler, Mark, 40 Tétouan (Morocco), 131, 134–36 Thailand, 210 threat-based theories, 16, 27, 34–35, 148, 150, 155, 157–58, 194 Thruston, Alex, 76 Tilly, Charles, 9, 14 Toilers Movement (Mauritania), 74 tourism, 68 “Toyota democracy,” 77 Tozy, Mohamed, 234n92 Trabelsi, Leila, 87 transhumance, 97 tribal politics/relations: clientelism and, 30, 39, 40–41, 51, 76–77, 81, 141, 198, 212; communal law and, 49, 50–51; cooperation and, 42; elections and, 47, 50, 65, 67, 72, 76, 77, 82, 109–10, 120; evolution of, 39, 40–41, 44–46, 48–51, 125; Gulf states and, 210; Islamists and, 141–42; leftists and, 74–75, 141–42 Troika Alliance (Tunisia): Arab uprisings and, 159–66, 182–83, 188–89; disbanding of, 188; endurance of, 93, 166, 193–94, 195, 212; formation of, 2, 11, 60, 86–93, 200; success of, 182–83. See also specific party Tunisia, 1–12; alliances in, 15, 21, 28–29, 33–38, 56–60, 85–93, 125–27, 160–66, 188–89; antiterrorism law, 29, 52, 56–60, 86–87; Arab-Islamic identity

Index  ■  287 in, 88; colonial rule in, 40–41, 51, 125, 144; constitution of, 91–93, 161, 162; decentralization in, 125–26; elections in, 55–56, 57–58, 91–93, 125–27, 146– 47, 160, 163–65; nationalist movement in, 144; postcolonial rule in, 41–42, 122–23, 190–91; protests and riots in, 54, 58, 90, 93, 160, 161, 194; revolution in, 90–93; social bases in, 53–56, 83–84, 190–91. See also communes Tunisian General Labor Union (UGTT), 41, 42, 144–47 Tunisian Journalists’ Association, 59 Tunisian League of Human Rights, 55–56, 59 Tunisian National Dialogue Quartet, 93, 165 Tunisian National Pact, 57 tutelle (tutelage), 126

UC (Constitutional Union) (Morocco), 62–63, 129, 171 UGTT (Tunisian General Labor Union), 41, 42, 144–47 Ummah Party (Mauritania), 77 UMT (Moroccan Workers’ Union), 61, 143 UND (National Democratic Union) (Mauritania), 75 UNFP (National Union of Popular Forces) (Morocco), 44. See also Socialist Union of Popular Forces (USFP) (Morocco) Union for the Republic (UPR) (Mauritania), 114–20, 140–41, 179, 181–82, 184, 186–88, 204 Union of Democratic Forces (UFD) (Mauritania), 77–79

Union of Forces of Progress (Mauritania), 15, 28–29, 73–74, 79 United Arab Emirates, 211 United Socialist Party (Morocco), 25 universities, 53–54, 87, 110, 144, 178–81, 206–7. See also students; specific university University of Nouakchott (Mauritania), 179–81 UNTM (National Union of Moroccan Labor) (Morocco), 64, 147, 152 USFP. See Socialist Union of Popular Forces (USFP) (Morocco)

Vall, Ely Ould Mohamed, 79, 81, 137, 155 Van Dyke, Nella, 16

Wahabi, Jamal, 135 wald al-arD, 70–71 Waldner, David, 30 Waterbury, John, 36–37, 108 Wegner, Eva, 64, 96, 102 Weyland, Kurt, 193 Wickham, Carrie Rosefsky, 208 Willis, Michael, 48, 55, 56, 64, 90, 211 Wilson, James, 31 Wolf, Anne, 86, 88 women, election of, 103–4, 142 women’s rights, 15–16, 56, 69, 92, 206 World Summit on Information Society (2005), 86

Yassine, Abdesslam, 25 Yatim, Mohamed, 143, 152–53 el-Yazghi, Mohammed, 68, 95 Yemen, 1, 10, 20

288  ■  Index Yemeni Socialist Party, 20 Yildrim, A. Kadir, 23, 64 Yom, Sean, 205, 210 al-Youssoufi, Abderrahman, 63, 64–65 youth mobilizations, 150–51, 156, 167–68, 178–81, 186–87. See also students

Zakaria, Abdelkarim, 136 Zartman, I. William, 19, 150 Zemmouri, Hassan, 44–45 Zerhouni, Saloua, 47 Ziedi, Habib, 88 Zohir, Khalid, 130, 201 Zoukari, Mohamed, 135

Dr. Matt Buehler is an assistant professor of political science at the University of Tennessee and is also a global security fellow at the Howard H. Baker Jr. Center for Public Policy. In 2017 he served as a research fellow at the John F. Kennedy School of Government’s Middle East Initiative in the Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs at Harvard University. He was a postdoctoral fellow at the Center for International and Regional Studies at the Edmund A. Walsh School of Foreign Service at Georgetown University in Qatar. His research area is comparative politics of the Middle East, and his interests include democratization, authoritarianism, the Arab uprisings, public opinion research, Islamist movements, and North African politics. Buehler’s research has appeared in journals such as Political Research Quarterly, Mediterranean Politics, the British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, Middle East Law and Governance, and Terrorism and Political Violence. He currently serves as reviews editor on the editorial board of Mediterranean Politics.