Tonio: Een romanrequiem, door A.Th. van der Heijden.
Boekbespreking door Sami Faltas
In 2010 kwam de zoon van Adri van der Heijden en Miriam Rotenstreich bij een auto-ongeluk om het leven. Van der Heijden liet daarop zijn zorgvuldig voorbereide plan voor een nieuwe roman vallen en schreef in plaats daarvan een boek over Tonio. Ik heb deze requiemroman niet ademloos, maar geboeid, dat wil zeggen als een gevangene, gelezen. De ouders van Tonio verdienen ons medeleven, maar het boek verdient op zijn eigen merites beoordeeld te worden. Het is door de literaire kritiek de hemel in geprezen. Terecht?
Je kunt het boek op verschillende manieren bekijken en beoordelen.
'Tonio' is allereerst een schitterend eerbetoon aan een jongen van deze tijd, geboren in een intellectuele familie. Hij groeide op in Amsterdam-Zuid, bezocht het gymnasium en studeerde fotografie. Tonio werd door de welvaart en gulheid van zijn ouders verwend, maar niet bedorven. Hij was wat lui en zoals alle tieners veel met zichzelf bezig, maar spontaan, lief, pienter en ondernemend. Dat zijn ouders niet alleen van hem hielden, maar ook op hem verliefd waren, is goed te begrijpen.
Het boek is ook een liefdesverklaring van een vader aan zijn verloren zoon. Zo'n ontroerende beschrijving van een relatie tussen vader en zoon heb ik nog nooit gelezen. Van der Heijden schrijft even openhartig over prachtige en smartelijke belevenissen voor, tijdens en na het korte leven van Tonio. Bijzonder navrant zijn de passages over de zelfvoldane houding van de auteur en zijn illusies over het stapsgewijs produceren van zijn volgende roman beschrijft, terwijl de politie onderweg is om te melden dat Tonio in kritieke toestand in het ziekenhuis is opgenomen. Het boek is dus niet alleen een dodenmis en een liefdesverklaring, maar ook een boetedoening voor de fouten en mislukkingen die Tonio's vader zichzelf verwijt
Moet dit boek naar de maatstaven van een roman worden beoordeeld, terwijl het niet of nauwelijks fictie bevat? Ik meen van wel, want Van der Heijden gebruikt de romanvorm om het verhaal van de komst, het leven en de dood van Tonio te vertellen. Wat ik pijnlijk miste in dit boek was een perspectief op een gelukkiger leven voor de ouders na het peilloze verdriet over de dood van Tonio. Ik heb er tevergeefs op gewacht en klapte het boek ten slotte met een grijns van frustratie dicht.
Mag ik dat de schrijver verwijten? Nee. Dat is mijn probleem, niet het zijne. Volgens eigen zeggen verwerken Adri en Miriam niet hun rouw. Zij houden de pijnlijke herinnering aan Tonio en zijn dood als een open zenuw in stand omdat dat hun laatste band is met de geliefde jongen. Zij onderzoeken alles over de laatste dagen van hun zoon, tot en met de videofilm van een bewakingscamera die het ongeval vastlegde, maar verdiepen zich niet in de bestuurder van de auto die tegen die fiets van Tonio botste.
Van der Heijden bewondert de boeken van Thomas Mann. Toen zijn vrouw zwanger was, stelde hij half schertsend voor, het kind Tonio te noemen, indien het een jongen zou blijken te zijn. Hij was ervan overtuigd dat het een meisje was. De naam ontleende hij aan Manns boek Tonio Kröger. In zijn requiemroman meldt Van der Heijden dat hij Thomas Mann niet meer kon lezen toen hij vernomen had dat toen Klaus Mann zelfmoord pleegde, de vader niet bereid was om een toernee door Scandinavië te onderbreken om de begravenis van zijn zoon bij te wonen.
'Tonio' is inderdaad een meesterwerk, maar een zwaar boek om te lezen. Wie het kan opbrengen om het enorme verdriet van Tonio's ouders te ervaren, moet dit boek beslist lezen.
30 August 2012
Security Sector Reform and the Arab Spring
Sami Faltas, University of Groningen, the Netherlands
Submitted in June 2012 for publication by the EU Delegation in an information brief on SSR in Lebanon.
The chant “Bread! Freedom! Social Justice!” is often heard in Cairo’s Midan el Tahrir. Bread stands for jobs and livelihoods that enable people to provide food, housing, education and health care to their families. Freedom stands for the right to speak one’s mind, elect one’s leaders and live in dignity, unafraid of being harassed and beaten. Social justice stands for equal rights. Workers are not mules, women are not slaves, children are not property, and no one is above the law. The slogan sums up the aspirations of the revolution of 25 January and resonates in other Arab countries as well.
I am an Egyptian who grew up in the Netherlands. Today I am a lecturer in security studies at a Dutch university. Looking at the countries of the Arab Spring as a European analyst, I am inclined to think they need to reform their security sector, preferably with some assistance from the EU. The ideals of the revolution cannot be achieved without the rule of law and an adequate level of security for all citizens. According to the European approach, Security Sector Reform (SSR) must ensure that the state is capable of providing good security and justice services to the population. At the same time, the security forces must be accountable, respectful of the rights and liberties of the population, and ruled by law. Each country must make these changes in its own way and according to the needs of its society. Only then will the reforms be feasible, appropriate and sustainable. Consider for example the Egyptian police. In the face of fierce popular anger, it vanished from the streets during the revolution of 2011, and one and a half years later, it is still invisible. As a result, people have less reason to fear police corruption, harassment and violence. Unfortunately, in large parts of the country the absence of the police also means open season for criminals. Egypt needs a police that serves and protects the population. Who could disagree? What are they waiting for? These thoughts go through my mind as I look at Egypt as a European SSR analyst.
Now if I look at my native country as an Egyptian, I am more sceptical about the chances for Security Sector Reform in the countries of the Arab Spring. “Bukra fil mishmish,” I am inclined to say. I’ll believe it when I see it. Egypt’s new rulers must be aware of the need for rebuilding an effective police force. The big question is whether it will be a service that the people trust or one that they fear. What is more, President Morsi wants the military to withdraw from politics. But we don’t know when or on what terms this may happen.
Also consider Lebanon. Security touches all domains of life, and therefore security policy must be comprehensive. It needs to be shared and supported by all relevant government agencies. This is never easy, but in Lebanon it is especially difficult, because the country has various governmental and non-governmental security forces, each allied with a particular religious community, a political party and foreign supporters. Without deep political change, one cannot imagine these various factions adopting and pursuing a joint security policy for their country as a whole.
This highlights another feature of SSR, namely that it is highly political. SSR enhances the power of the executive branch, while at the same time subjecting it to the rule of law and making it accountable to parliament and other oversight bodies. If and when a government in Cairo, Beirut or anywhere else agrees to such fundamental changes, it will want to carry out the reforms in its own way and on its own terms.
On this final point my two halves can agree. SSR programmes often fail because of a lack of local ownership. Tunisia, Egypt and other Arab countries going through deep political change will not allow Europeans to talk them into reshaping their security and justice sector. If and when they decide to do this, they will do it in their own way, according to their own schedule and for their own purposes. It will not happen without strong popular and political backing. However, if such home-grown efforts are indeed launched, I think Arab governments may accept foreign expertise and assistance. I would be happy to see some of it coming from the EU and its member states. But the Arab countries may also want to look at the experience of South Africa, where SSR has been and remains locally driven.
Sami Faltas, University of Groningen, the Netherlands
Submitted in June 2012 for publication by the EU Delegation in an information brief on SSR in Lebanon.
The chant “Bread! Freedom! Social Justice!” is often heard in Cairo’s Midan el Tahrir. Bread stands for jobs and livelihoods that enable people to provide food, housing, education and health care to their families. Freedom stands for the right to speak one’s mind, elect one’s leaders and live in dignity, unafraid of being harassed and beaten. Social justice stands for equal rights. Workers are not mules, women are not slaves, children are not property, and no one is above the law. The slogan sums up the aspirations of the revolution of 25 January and resonates in other Arab countries as well.
I am an Egyptian who grew up in the Netherlands. Today I am a lecturer in security studies at a Dutch university. Looking at the countries of the Arab Spring as a European analyst, I am inclined to think they need to reform their security sector, preferably with some assistance from the EU. The ideals of the revolution cannot be achieved without the rule of law and an adequate level of security for all citizens. According to the European approach, Security Sector Reform (SSR) must ensure that the state is capable of providing good security and justice services to the population. At the same time, the security forces must be accountable, respectful of the rights and liberties of the population, and ruled by law. Each country must make these changes in its own way and according to the needs of its society. Only then will the reforms be feasible, appropriate and sustainable. Consider for example the Egyptian police. In the face of fierce popular anger, it vanished from the streets during the revolution of 2011, and one and a half years later, it is still invisible. As a result, people have less reason to fear police corruption, harassment and violence. Unfortunately, in large parts of the country the absence of the police also means open season for criminals. Egypt needs a police that serves and protects the population. Who could disagree? What are they waiting for? These thoughts go through my mind as I look at Egypt as a European SSR analyst.
Now if I look at my native country as an Egyptian, I am more sceptical about the chances for Security Sector Reform in the countries of the Arab Spring. “Bukra fil mishmish,” I am inclined to say. I’ll believe it when I see it. Egypt’s new rulers must be aware of the need for rebuilding an effective police force. The big question is whether it will be a service that the people trust or one that they fear. What is more, President Morsi wants the military to withdraw from politics. But we don’t know when or on what terms this may happen.
Also consider Lebanon. Security touches all domains of life, and therefore security policy must be comprehensive. It needs to be shared and supported by all relevant government agencies. This is never easy, but in Lebanon it is especially difficult, because the country has various governmental and non-governmental security forces, each allied with a particular religious community, a political party and foreign supporters. Without deep political change, one cannot imagine these various factions adopting and pursuing a joint security policy for their country as a whole.
This highlights another feature of SSR, namely that it is highly political. SSR enhances the power of the executive branch, while at the same time subjecting it to the rule of law and making it accountable to parliament and other oversight bodies. If and when a government in Cairo, Beirut or anywhere else agrees to such fundamental changes, it will want to carry out the reforms in its own way and on its own terms.
On this final point my two halves can agree. SSR programmes often fail because of a lack of local ownership. Tunisia, Egypt and other Arab countries going through deep political change will not allow Europeans to talk them into reshaping their security and justice sector. If and when they decide to do this, they will do it in their own way, according to their own schedule and for their own purposes. It will not happen without strong popular and political backing. However, if such home-grown efforts are indeed launched, I think Arab governments may accept foreign expertise and assistance. I would be happy to see some of it coming from the EU and its member states. But the Arab countries may also want to look at the experience of South Africa, where SSR has been and remains locally driven.
WHAT CAN PEOPLE’S POWER ACHIEVE IN THE ARAB WORLD?
Sami Faltas Security Matters, Newsletter from the Centre for European Security Studies, November 2011, no. 24
The powerful call for change in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Jordan, Lebanon, Bahrain, Syria and Yemen has not only shaken up and in some cases driven away the authoritarian regimes of these countries. It has also challenged some widely held notions about democracy, social movements, non-violent action, women and religious minorities in the Arab countries.
How long will the Arab Spring go on, and how deeply will it change the Arab world? People’s power is a term we use to describe the influence of large numbers of people showing their determination to push through political change by nonviolent means. It often plays out in city squares. In 1967, Soviet tanks put an end to the Prague Spring in Wenceslas Square. 1989 saw government tanks crushing students in Beijing’s Tienanmen Square, and protesters shouting down Nicolae Ceauşescu in Bucharest’s Palace Square. In 2004, the Maidan in Kyiv was the epicentre of the Orange Revolution. Finally, in January 2011, young Egyptians took possession of Cairo’s Liberation Square (Midan al Tahrir) and brought down the regime of Hosni Mubarak.
Experience in various parts of the world, analysed by Kurt Schock and others, suggest that people’s power has the potential to achieve durable change. In his 2005 book Unarmed Insurrections: People Power Movements in Non-Democracies, Schock looks at people power in China, Burma, Nepal, South Africa, the Philippines and Thailand, and seeks to explain why it was unsuccessful in the first two countries and successful in the other four.
The author says that revolutionary violence is not the only way for a people to change their regime. Today, according to Schock, non-violent action actually stands a better chance of transforming a political regime. Nor do the activists of people power seek to provoke violent repression from the rulers. But he does point out that people’s power can be connected to violent forms of action, as it was in South Africa. We could add that whatever the armed struggle of South Africa’s liberation movements may have contributed to the downfall of Apartheid, it achieved less than schoolchildren demonstrating in Soweto, the moral authority of leaders like Desmond Tutu, Christiaan Beyers Naudé, Steve Biko and Nelson Mandela, the massive but peaceful resistance of the United Democratic Front, and the international isolation of the white minority regime.
Schock argues that the choice for non-violent action is usually pragmatic. He also provides some evidence for the claim that people power achieves success but forcing the rulers to act, rather than appealing to them on moral grounds. What is the difference between successful people power in Nepal, South Africa, the Philippines and Thailand, and the crushed uprisings in Burma and China, as analysed by Kurt Schock? According to him, successful people’s power movements are decentralised, but have some form of loose coordination. They act in various places at the same time and use various tactics. Besides, activists communicate with each other in ways that avoid the government’s control of the media. These features were absent in the movements he studied that failed, says Schock, namely the ones in Burma and in China.
Naturally, he adds, various national and international factors of a political and economic kind also determine the success or failure of people power. Schock’s description of a successful people power movement fits the uprising in Tunisia, which launched the Arab Spring, quite well. The same applies to the 25 of January movement in Egypt, except that it had a narrow geographic focus, Cairo’s Liberation Square. And of course, there was a fresh batch of jokes, a popular form of political satire in Egypt. At the gates of heaven, all who wish to enter must record their cause of death. President Nasser’s entry says: illness. Sadat wrote: assassination. In Mubarak’s case the record reads: Facebook.
The uprisings in Bahrain, Syria and Yemen also fit Schock’s description of successful people’s power, but have nonetheless been crushed. Libya took a very different road. Underscoring the importance of decentralisation and independent networking, Schock’s work is of some help in understanding the Arab Spring. Nearly thirty years ago, there were powerful manifestations of people’s power in several countries of Central and Eastern Europe. In Poland, Catholic shipyard workers launched an unstoppable movement that in the end and after some setbacks defeated the Communist regime. In a striking rebuttal of communist party propaganda, protesters in Leipzig and other East German cities took to the streets with banners that read: “Wir sind das Volk” (We are the people). And indeed, to the displeasure of Margaret Thatcher, François Mitterrand and several other European politicians, people’s power in East Germany achieved exactly what most protesters wanted, namely the dissolution of the GDR and the integration of their country into the Federal Republic.
How durable are the gains of people’s power? When the old order has become unsustainable and collapses, as it did in the Warsaw Pact countries in the late 1980s, the risk of the old regime being reinstalled is negligible. The same is true of white minority rule in South Africa. But even if the old order cannot be restored, we often see the new regime displaying features of the old order. In several ex-Communist states, the old power elite rose to power again in the guise of a renamed party and free-market policies. In other cases, the old order did not change irrevocably. The Orange Revolution introduced new policies and inspired Western-leaning Ukrainians with great hopes, and Russian-oriented Ukrainians with frustration. But it was unable to push through many of its main policies, and corruption became worse rather than better. In 2010, Victor Yanukovich, the president who was disgraced and forced to step down in 2004, was freely and fairly voted back into office. This was at the same time a sign of Ukraine’s democratic progress and proof that the Orange Revolution had failed.
So what makes the gains of people’s power last? In my opinion, democratic leadership and strong institutions. In South Africa, Nelson Mandela’s great achievement was not that he brought down the apartheid regime. It would have collapsed before long anyway. Nor was it remarkable that he acknowledged the rights and freedoms of white South Africans. That had been the policy of the African National Congress all along. Mandela’s great achievement was that by his words, his actions and his personal example, he led people to believe in the new South Africa and renounce revenge for the crimes of the Apartheid regime.
Unfortunately, such leadership is rare. The Arab world has no Nelson Mandela or Václav Havel. Egypt has a man of integrity who is trusted by most activists of Tahrir Square, but by his own admission, Mohamed El Barada’ei is at best a transitional figure. It is hard to see who might lead the country toward democracy and the rule of law, protect vulnerable minorities and successfully counter the electoral appeal of the Muslim Brotherhood.
The Arab world also lacks strong institutions like an assertive parliament and an independent judiciary. Political parties are little more than support groups for aging politicians that lack a clear mechanism for the selection of their successors. The police are little more than the strong arm of the regime, enforcing the public and private interests of the rulers and harassing the ruler’s adversaries. Especially in the absence of charismatic and democratic leaders, it is hard to see who might provide the impetus for the development of effective parliaments, a strong judiciary and political parties worthy of the name. Fortunately, under the influence of satellite television (especially Al Jazeera) and online networking (especially Facebook and Twitter), government censors are fighting a losing battle. Arab media are becoming less docile and more competitive. In conclusion, the spectacular changes in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya are fragile. The gains of people’s power will probably be lost if the countries concerned do not develop the leaders and institutions that will establish a living and resilient democracy.
Sami Faltas Security Matters, Newsletter from the Centre for European Security Studies, November 2011, no. 24
The powerful call for change in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Jordan, Lebanon, Bahrain, Syria and Yemen has not only shaken up and in some cases driven away the authoritarian regimes of these countries. It has also challenged some widely held notions about democracy, social movements, non-violent action, women and religious minorities in the Arab countries.
How long will the Arab Spring go on, and how deeply will it change the Arab world? People’s power is a term we use to describe the influence of large numbers of people showing their determination to push through political change by nonviolent means. It often plays out in city squares. In 1967, Soviet tanks put an end to the Prague Spring in Wenceslas Square. 1989 saw government tanks crushing students in Beijing’s Tienanmen Square, and protesters shouting down Nicolae Ceauşescu in Bucharest’s Palace Square. In 2004, the Maidan in Kyiv was the epicentre of the Orange Revolution. Finally, in January 2011, young Egyptians took possession of Cairo’s Liberation Square (Midan al Tahrir) and brought down the regime of Hosni Mubarak.
Experience in various parts of the world, analysed by Kurt Schock and others, suggest that people’s power has the potential to achieve durable change. In his 2005 book Unarmed Insurrections: People Power Movements in Non-Democracies, Schock looks at people power in China, Burma, Nepal, South Africa, the Philippines and Thailand, and seeks to explain why it was unsuccessful in the first two countries and successful in the other four.
The author says that revolutionary violence is not the only way for a people to change their regime. Today, according to Schock, non-violent action actually stands a better chance of transforming a political regime. Nor do the activists of people power seek to provoke violent repression from the rulers. But he does point out that people’s power can be connected to violent forms of action, as it was in South Africa. We could add that whatever the armed struggle of South Africa’s liberation movements may have contributed to the downfall of Apartheid, it achieved less than schoolchildren demonstrating in Soweto, the moral authority of leaders like Desmond Tutu, Christiaan Beyers Naudé, Steve Biko and Nelson Mandela, the massive but peaceful resistance of the United Democratic Front, and the international isolation of the white minority regime.
Schock argues that the choice for non-violent action is usually pragmatic. He also provides some evidence for the claim that people power achieves success but forcing the rulers to act, rather than appealing to them on moral grounds. What is the difference between successful people power in Nepal, South Africa, the Philippines and Thailand, and the crushed uprisings in Burma and China, as analysed by Kurt Schock? According to him, successful people’s power movements are decentralised, but have some form of loose coordination. They act in various places at the same time and use various tactics. Besides, activists communicate with each other in ways that avoid the government’s control of the media. These features were absent in the movements he studied that failed, says Schock, namely the ones in Burma and in China.
Naturally, he adds, various national and international factors of a political and economic kind also determine the success or failure of people power. Schock’s description of a successful people power movement fits the uprising in Tunisia, which launched the Arab Spring, quite well. The same applies to the 25 of January movement in Egypt, except that it had a narrow geographic focus, Cairo’s Liberation Square. And of course, there was a fresh batch of jokes, a popular form of political satire in Egypt. At the gates of heaven, all who wish to enter must record their cause of death. President Nasser’s entry says: illness. Sadat wrote: assassination. In Mubarak’s case the record reads: Facebook.
The uprisings in Bahrain, Syria and Yemen also fit Schock’s description of successful people’s power, but have nonetheless been crushed. Libya took a very different road. Underscoring the importance of decentralisation and independent networking, Schock’s work is of some help in understanding the Arab Spring. Nearly thirty years ago, there were powerful manifestations of people’s power in several countries of Central and Eastern Europe. In Poland, Catholic shipyard workers launched an unstoppable movement that in the end and after some setbacks defeated the Communist regime. In a striking rebuttal of communist party propaganda, protesters in Leipzig and other East German cities took to the streets with banners that read: “Wir sind das Volk” (We are the people). And indeed, to the displeasure of Margaret Thatcher, François Mitterrand and several other European politicians, people’s power in East Germany achieved exactly what most protesters wanted, namely the dissolution of the GDR and the integration of their country into the Federal Republic.
How durable are the gains of people’s power? When the old order has become unsustainable and collapses, as it did in the Warsaw Pact countries in the late 1980s, the risk of the old regime being reinstalled is negligible. The same is true of white minority rule in South Africa. But even if the old order cannot be restored, we often see the new regime displaying features of the old order. In several ex-Communist states, the old power elite rose to power again in the guise of a renamed party and free-market policies. In other cases, the old order did not change irrevocably. The Orange Revolution introduced new policies and inspired Western-leaning Ukrainians with great hopes, and Russian-oriented Ukrainians with frustration. But it was unable to push through many of its main policies, and corruption became worse rather than better. In 2010, Victor Yanukovich, the president who was disgraced and forced to step down in 2004, was freely and fairly voted back into office. This was at the same time a sign of Ukraine’s democratic progress and proof that the Orange Revolution had failed.
So what makes the gains of people’s power last? In my opinion, democratic leadership and strong institutions. In South Africa, Nelson Mandela’s great achievement was not that he brought down the apartheid regime. It would have collapsed before long anyway. Nor was it remarkable that he acknowledged the rights and freedoms of white South Africans. That had been the policy of the African National Congress all along. Mandela’s great achievement was that by his words, his actions and his personal example, he led people to believe in the new South Africa and renounce revenge for the crimes of the Apartheid regime.
Unfortunately, such leadership is rare. The Arab world has no Nelson Mandela or Václav Havel. Egypt has a man of integrity who is trusted by most activists of Tahrir Square, but by his own admission, Mohamed El Barada’ei is at best a transitional figure. It is hard to see who might lead the country toward democracy and the rule of law, protect vulnerable minorities and successfully counter the electoral appeal of the Muslim Brotherhood.
The Arab world also lacks strong institutions like an assertive parliament and an independent judiciary. Political parties are little more than support groups for aging politicians that lack a clear mechanism for the selection of their successors. The police are little more than the strong arm of the regime, enforcing the public and private interests of the rulers and harassing the ruler’s adversaries. Especially in the absence of charismatic and democratic leaders, it is hard to see who might provide the impetus for the development of effective parliaments, a strong judiciary and political parties worthy of the name. Fortunately, under the influence of satellite television (especially Al Jazeera) and online networking (especially Facebook and Twitter), government censors are fighting a losing battle. Arab media are becoming less docile and more competitive. In conclusion, the spectacular changes in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya are fragile. The gains of people’s power will probably be lost if the countries concerned do not develop the leaders and institutions that will establish a living and resilient democracy.
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