A Decade on, the Broken Dreams of the Arab Spring

A decade ago, protests in Tunisia sparked the Arab Spring uprisings. (AFP)
A decade ago, protests in Tunisia sparked the Arab Spring uprisings. (AFP)
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A Decade on, the Broken Dreams of the Arab Spring

A decade ago, protests in Tunisia sparked the Arab Spring uprisings. (AFP)
A decade ago, protests in Tunisia sparked the Arab Spring uprisings. (AFP)

"The revolution showed me that everything is possible," says Ameni Ghimaji, remembering the heady days of the Tunisian protests that sparked the so-called Arab Spring uprisings a decade ago.

She was just 18 when Tunisian long-time ruler Zine El Abidine Ben Ali fell from power, the first casualty of wave upon wave of demonstrations across the Middle East and North Africa which saw some iron-fisted leaders tumble, some brutally cling on and nations convulse in years of upheaval, conflict and civil war.

"We had no plan for the future, but we were sure of one thing: anything has to be better than this," added Ghimaji.

Ben Ali was ousted just hours after she was photographed, shouting and pumping her fist in the air, at a massive Tunis anti-regime rally.

Her picture swept the front pages and she became an iconic image of the youth in peaceful revolt.

The Tunisia protests were triggered when an impoverished street vendor set himself alight on December 17, 2010, weighed down by despair.

His shocking act of self-violence ignited long simmering tensions among young people, angered by Ben Ali's corrupt, nepotistic regime and hungry for new opportunities.

Less than four weeks later, Ben Ali had fled into exile, ended his 23-year rule and, drawing courage from his ouster, protesters began gathering elsewhere.

'Revenge'
Today across the Arab world, the 2011 uprisings have been blamed for opening the floodgates to violence and economic ruin, leaving millions of refugees and displaced, while countless others have had their lives blighted by chaos.

But for those who were there, the early demonstrations were times of exhilaration and hope.

On January 14, 2011, social networks were flooded with footage of lawyer Abdennaceur Aouini defying a curfew to stand in the iconic Avenue Habib Bourguiba of central Tunis, shouting: "Ben Ali has fled!"

It felt like "revenge. Since I was 18 I'd been hassled and imprisoned," Aouini, now aged 50, said.

But today, he admits he feels "disappointed".

"There is always hope. But I was in a dream, today I have come to my senses," added Aouini.

Despite the political freedoms Tunisians have won, they still face grinding unemployment, inflation and inequality.

"People thought that Ben Ali's departure would fix things, but that will take 20, 30 years," said lawyer and activist Houeida Anouar.

"I'm not sure that within my lifetime I'll see a Tunisia with a political scene worthy of the name, but I'm optimistic."

'Change inevitable'
While Tunisia does have a hard-won constitution, a flawed but functioning parliamentary system and free elections, elsewhere the picture is bleak.

In Libya and Syria initially peaceful uprisings sparked civil wars that have laid waste to cities and killed hundreds of thousands of people.

But that's not how it started, according to Majdi, a 36-year-old Libyan, who took part in protests against long-time ruler Moammar al-Gaddafi a decade ago.

"We were watching what happened in Tunisia and Egypt," he said. "It was our turn, change was inevitable."

Protesters' demands were "just a bit more freedom, some justice and some hope for the young people who didn't have any," he said.

Initially "there was no talk of overthrowing the regime."

Gaddafi’s killing in October 2011 plunged the country into a decade of violent chaos.

Majdi he insists he has no regrets: the revolution "was necessary, and I still believe in it."

'Dead either way'
"We were only demanding reform," said Dahnoun, a Syrian.

He joined some of the country's first protests against president Bashar Assad, and recalled "no chants were calling for division, or fighting, or war. On the contrary, it was very peaceful."

"I remember, we used to chant 'freedom, freedom, freedom' and nothing else," Dahnoun told AFP by phone from Idlib city.

But the movement was met with unremitting violence, including on some occasions the once taboo use of chemical weapons by Syrian regime forces, charges that Damascus denies.

"During that first protest we were attacked by regime thugs and security forces," said Dahnoun, who was 15 at the time.

As in Libya, the worsening situation in Syria drew in outside nations, seizing both an opportunity to boost their sway and minimize regional turbulence.

"We were played by foreign powers, and now Syrians have zero say and external players have the last word," he said.

"I don't have hope... Syria is not ours anymore."

A crushing 2015 intervention by Russia to prop up the Syrian regime saw Damascus claw back swathes of territory that had been held by opposition forces, and Assad now controls over 70 percent of the country.

But a brutal economic crisis, accentuated by Western sanctions, has seen the government criticized from all sides, even those who did not support the revolution.

Abu Hamza, a teacher from Daraa where the first demonstrations of the Syrian revolution began, says people have "no loyalty" towards the regime.

"When you are hungry, you have no more fear," the father-of-three told AFP by phone from Daraa.

"I'm dead either way. I'll either be killed by tanks or by hunger."



Sudan's Relentless War: A 70-Year Cycle of Conflict


Army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan (left) and RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, pictured during their alliance to oust Omar al-Bashir in 2019 (AFP)
Army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan (left) and RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, pictured during their alliance to oust Omar al-Bashir in 2019 (AFP)
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Sudan's Relentless War: A 70-Year Cycle of Conflict


Army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan (left) and RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, pictured during their alliance to oust Omar al-Bashir in 2019 (AFP)
Army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan (left) and RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, pictured during their alliance to oust Omar al-Bashir in 2019 (AFP)

While world conflicts dominate headlines, Sudan’s deepening catastrophe is unfolding largely out of sight; a brutal war that has killed tens of thousands, displaced millions, and flattened entire cities and regions.

More than a year into the conflict, some observers question whether the international community has grown weary of Sudan’s seemingly endless cycles of violence. The country has endured nearly seven decades of civil war, and what is happening now is not an exception, but the latest chapter in a bloody history of rebellion and collapse.

The first of Sudan’s modern wars began even before the country gained independence from Britain. In 1955, army officer Joseph Lagu led the southern “Anyanya” rebellion, named after a venomous snake, launching a guerrilla war that would last until 1972.

A peace agreement brokered by the World Council of Churches and Ethiopia’s late Emperor Haile Selassie ended that conflict with the signing of the Addis Ababa Accord.

But peace proved short-lived. In 1983, then-president Jaafar Nimeiry reignited tensions by announcing the imposition of Islamic Sharia law, known as the “September Laws.” The move prompted the rise of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM), led by John Garang, and a renewed southern insurgency that raged for more than two decades, outliving Nimeiry’s regime.

Under Omar al-Bashir, who seized power in a 1989 military coup, the war took on an Islamist tone. His government declared “jihad” and mobilized civilians in support of the fight, but failed to secure a decisive victory.

The conflict eventually gave way to the 2005 Comprehensive Peace Agreement, better known as the Naivasha Agreement, which was brokered in Kenya and granted South Sudan the right to self-determination.

In 2011, more than 95% of South Sudanese voted to break away from Sudan, giving birth to the world’s newest country, the Republic of South Sudan. The secession marked the culmination of decades of war, which began with demands for a federal system and ended in full-scale conflict. The cost: over 2 million lives lost, and a once-unified nation split in two.

But even before South Sudan’s independence became reality, another brutal conflict had erupted in Sudan’s western Darfur region in 2003. Armed rebel groups from the region took up arms against the central government, accusing it of marginalization and neglect. What followed was a ferocious counterinsurgency campaign that drew global condemnation and triggered a major humanitarian crisis.

As violence escalated, the United Nations deployed one of its largest-ever peacekeeping missions, the African Union-United Nations Hybrid Operation in Darfur (UNAMID), in a bid to stem the bloodshed.

Despite multiple peace deals, including the Juba Agreement signed in October 2020 following the ousting of long-time Islamist ruler, Bashir, fighting never truly ceased.

The Darfur war alone left more than 300,000 people dead and millions displaced. The International Criminal Court charged Bashir and several top officials, including Ahmed Haroun and Abdel Raheem Muhammad Hussein, with war crimes and crimes against humanity.

Alongside the southern conflict, yet another war erupted in 2011, this time in the Nuba Mountains of South Kordofan and the Blue Nile region. The fighting was led by Abdelaziz al-Hilu, head of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement–North (SPLM–N), a group composed largely of northern fighters who had sided with the South during the earlier civil war under John Garang.

The conflict broke out following contested elections marred by allegations of fraud, and Khartoum’s refusal to implement key provisions of the 2005 Naivasha Agreement, particularly those related to “popular consultations” in the two regions. More than a decade later, war still grips both areas, with no lasting resolution in sight.

Then came April 15, 2023. A fresh war exploded, this time in the heart of the capital, Khartoum, pitting the Sudanese Armed Forces against the powerful paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF). Now entering its third year, the conflict shows no signs of abating.

According to international reports, the war has killed more than 150,000 people and displaced around 13 million, the largest internal displacement crisis on the planet. Over 3 million Sudanese have fled to neighboring countries.

Large swathes of the capital lie in ruins, and entire states have been devastated. With Khartoum no longer viable as a seat of power, the government and military leadership have relocated to the Red Sea city of Port Sudan.

Unlike previous wars, Sudan’s current conflict has no real audience. Global pressure on the warring factions has been minimal. Media coverage is sparse. And despite warnings from the United Nations describing the crisis as “the world’s worst humanitarian catastrophe,” Sudan's descent into chaos remains largely ignored by the international community.