Political violence in Algeria

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Political violence in AlgeriaMartha Crenshaw aa Professor of Government at WesleyanUniversity, Middletown, ConnecticutPublished online: 21 Dec 2007.

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Political Violence in Algeria

MARTHA CRENSHAW

It is estimated that over 20,000 people have died in civil conflict in Algeria sinceJanuary, 1992, and no resolution is in sight. This article analyzes the currentstate of civil violence in Algeria in terms of a theory of collective rebelliousbehaviour stressing falsification of public preferences, adapted from the work ofTimur Kuran. The theory links social and psychological factors to explain whythe outcome of the political challenge mounted by radical Islamic groups hasbeen stalemate rather than an Islamic revolution or the restoration of stableauthoritarianism. It suggests that the outcome of the struggle in Algeria isunpredictable.

The current situation in Algeria is both troubling and puzzling. Aprocess of transition from authoritarian rule - surprising in itselfbecause of its suddenness - was interrupted when the ruling elite, chieflythe military, realized that an Islamic party was certain to win elections tothe National Assembly. The elections, the first to be held democraticallyat the national level in Algeria, were cancelled at the start of 1992 andthe Islamic opposition banned. Since that time, Algeria has been torn byboth military repression and civil violence from Islamic oppositiongroups. Estimates of the number of people killed since January 1992range between 10,000 and 20,000 or even higher. Neither state violencenor attempts to open a 'dialogue' between regime and opposition hasproduced a return to stable authoritarianism or a workable compromise.Despite widespread discontent and material deprivation, the Islamicmovement has not been able to bring about a revolution, as IranianIslamists were able to do. How do we explain the instability andunpredictability of politics in Algeria? Why has the resort to violence byboth regime and opposition produced a murderous stalemate?

Theories of collective violence have typically differentiated betweeninstrumental and psychological models. The key problem is to explainindividual motivation: why do people choose to participate in rebelliousbehavior? Is it because of the rewards and punishments that suchactivity provides, or is it because of deep grievances and discontent? Ifpotential rebels are instrumentalists, why does the free rider phenom-enon not discourage participation in the search for a collective good? If

Terrorism and Political Violence, Vol.6, No.3 (Autumn 1994), pp.261-280PUBLISHED BY FRANK CASS, LONDON

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262 TERRORISM AND POLITICAL VIOLENCE

they are spontaneous, why is revolution least likely where frustrationappears greatest? Why do some people participate in violent oppositionwhen others do not? Timur Kuran1 has developed a framework for theanalysis of motivation that explains why revolutions are unanticipated.This framework, which builds on both rational choice and psychologicaltheories, can be adapted to explain why neither revolution norrepression has triumphed in Algeria, as well as why neither thedemocratic opening nor the prospective Islamist electoral victory wasforeseeable. This approach also demonstrates that it is not necessary toresort to explanations based on the exceptionalism of Islamic 'funda-mentalism' to explain revolutionary change.

Revolutions and Individual Preferences

Kuran's approach is based on a distinction between private and publicpreferences. An individual's private preference is known only to him orher, while a public preference is what is revealed to others. In theabstract world rational choice theory assumes, the two coincide, but inreality the two often diverge. Individuals may conceal or falsify theirprivate preferences because the expression of a public preferencedetermines how the person will be treated by society. If someonemounts a radical challenge to social order, the result is likely at least tobe loss of status or rejection. Being accepted and respected by society isa source of emotional comfort. Psychological theories confirm thatindividuals depend on society and fear isolation. They may also fearphysical and material punishment if they disobey the government,especially in authoritarian regimes. Of course, the expression of a publicpreference brings not only negative sanctions; it may bring importantrewards, such as employment and material benefits. The payoff to theindividual that comes from balancing anticipated rewards and punish-ments can be called a reputational utility. It can change as political andsocial circumstances change, and as the groups with power in societyshift. A preference that is rewarded by one group may be punished byanother.

So far this analysis leads us to expect a high level of group conformity,and social psychology has produced several hypotheses to explainpressures toward group cohesion. Yet at the same time, the individualhas a need for autonomy and for self-respect. A person 'derives self-esteem from the privilege of being able to resist social pressures'.2

People have a deep need to establish an independent identity, althoughthis need varies among individuals. Some people are more prone tocompromise their private preferences than others, but we can expect

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POLITICAL VIOLENCE IN ALGERIA 263

that people who constantly express important public preferences thatcontradict their private beliefs will pay an emotional price. That is,preference falsification can be costly to people who value integrity,although only the individual (and perhaps close confidantes) willrecognize that cost. Thus, in the end the individual's choice will dependon how much influence he or she has over the expected outcome (aperception of whether or not the action will actually make anydifference to society's decision), the anticipated sanctions associatedwith a public position, and the emotional need to act autonomously andto avoid anger, shame, or guilt. The individual cannot predict theconsequences of alternative choices, so the anticipation of sanctions isalso contingent on cognitive processes such as selective information-processing. An individual trying to balance public and private prefer-ences under conditions of uncertainty will probably engage in variouskinds and degrees of preference falsification, acting sincerely in somesituations and deceptively in others.

This theory explains why 'interacting social and psychological factorsmake it inherently difficult to predict the outcome of political competi-tion'.3 Events take on an aura of inevitability only after the outcome isdecided, a phenomenon for which there are also psychological explana-tions. The process of revolutionary mobilization is unstable. It involvesa multitude of individual choices based on extremely complex patternsof motivation, even if discontent is high and structural factors arepropitious. Considering both public and private pay-offs, an individualmay join the opposition even when the costs and punishments asso-ciated with opposition are still high and when the number of peoplesupporting the opposition is still small. Intellectuals, for example, mayvalue integrity over personal security. Individual behavior will matter asit alters the equilibrium of people's revolutionary thresholds - thetipping point at which it becomes worthwhile for the individual to makepublic a private opposition to the existing order. Slight shifts in a fewthresholds can créât a bandwagon effect, which cannot be predictedbecause no one knows what the thresholds of others are. Distribution ofdiscontent through society is thus the key to revolutionary upheaval.Society may be on the brink of revolution, but everyone is waiting forsomeone else to go first. People who have yet to reach their ownrevolutionary threshold cannot judge the extent to which there islargescale but private opposition to the government. If the individualthinks (rightly or wrongly) that no one else is revolting, then the chanceof success seems low and the risk of punishment for participation seemshigh. Because choices are interdependent, discontent does not auto-matically lead to active opposition.4

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Oppositions still seek large numbers of followers, because a thresholdshift will not produce change unless there is substantial latent supportfor opposition. Revolutionary leaders can help individuals discover thevulnerability of the regime, and the existence of organized oppositionparties may make people more likely to believe that opposition cansucceed. Organized street activities such as strikes and demonstrationsmay persuade passive sympathizers and supporters of the status quo thatthe revolution is eminent and thus alter their thresholds for public action(perhaps encouraging them to think that the numbers supporting therevolution are greater than they really are).

Leaders and their organizations help shape people's private prefer-ences, through ideological indoctrination, organized group actions toimpress and inspire, persuasive exhortation to change one's beliefs, andcharismatic appeals. Promises of future reward are made to potentialsupporters, as well as threats of retribution to potential opponentsshould the revolutionaries come to power. However, prudent peoplemay remain outwardly loyal despite their private sympathies for theopposition, until 'a relatively minor event makes a few individuals reachtheir boiling point and take to the streets in protest. This kicks off thelatent revolutionary bandwagon, and the opposition darts into power.The magnitude and speed of the revolutionary process come as anenormous surprise, precisely because the masses had been concealingtheir growing frustrations.'5

Building on Kuran's ideas, we still need to know more about whatdetermines private preferences and the intensity with which they areheld. Under what circumstances do they change? We know frompsychological studies, for example, that a repeated declaration of apublic preference might make an individual revise his or her own privatepreference to relieve emotional discomfort, rather than change behaviorso as to bring action in line with fixed beliefs. People also change theirown beliefs in response to what they think others believe. We also needto take into account the differences in ways that public preferences canbe expressed. Authoritarian regimes rarely tolerate public dissent, butdifferent levels of actions entail different objective risks and differentpsychological costs. Editing an opposition newspaper, for example, orparticipating in a peaceful demonstration does not have the same'reputational utility' as joining a violent underground. We also need toconsider the role of both state repression and oppositional violence inshaping private and public preferences. Rewards and punishments comefrom many different sources, complicating the individual's decisionalcalculations. And we must acknowledge that choices in revolutionarysituations are not always dichotomous. There can be more than two

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sides in a conflict. The image of revolutionary politics as dividedbetween undifferentiated poles, status quo and radical change, can bemisleading. This multiplicity of possible stands on an issue complicatesindividual choice even further. It is certain to make the process ofdecision more painful, especially under the already risky circumstancesof civil conflict.

Civil Conflict in Algeria since 1988

We can distinguish three phases in the sequence of political change inAlgeria from 1988 to the present:

1. From 1988 to 1990 a democratic opening (signalled by a newconstitution) based on the shock of the regime's repressiveresponse to riots generated primarily by economic discontent,leading to the emergence of political competition, with greaterfreedom of expression and pluralism across the political spec-trum.

2. From 1990 to 1992 recognition of the growing power of theFront islamique du salut (FIS), beginning with surprisingvictories in local elections in June 1990, bringing the FISincreasingly into conflict with the secular opposition parties,some elements of the ruling Front de Libération Nationale(FLN), and the military, and culminating in FIS electoralvictories at the national level.

3. From 1992 to the present a period of crisis (Algeria is governedunder a state of emergency, in effect indefinitely) brought on bythe regime's decision to cancel legislative elections in order toprevent a FIS victory. Algeria was ruled first by a mixedcivilian-military committee, and since January 1994 by GeneralLamine Zeroual. This period is characterized by high levels ofviolence from both the military and small clandestine organiza-tions linked to the Islamic opposition. The outcome is incon-clusive, since neither revolutionary upheaval nor effectiverestoration of the ancien régime seems likely.

Algeria's economic and social problems worsened during the 1980s.The socialist model of economic development was failing before dropsin oil prices left Algeria in serious fiscal difficulties. The populationsuffered from severe housing shortages, declining agricultural andindustrial production, bureaucratic inefficiency, high unemployment,lack of customer goods, and rising inflation. In 1986 the governmentintroduced an austerity plan to reduce the growing external debt. On

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top of this, Algeria's population increased from nine million in 1962 toat least 25 million in 1988, with a majority of its citizens under 18. Thesestructural conditions were naturally conducive to discontent, which hadalready generated riots and even organized armed resistance, especiallybetween 1986 and 1988. The riots in October 1988 'were widely believedto have been a spontaneous reaction to the privations of economicreforms, rising unemployment amongst the young and the shattering ofsocial and political expectations'.6 There was little difference in kindfrom earlier riots and disturbances. Yet in October 1988 the militaryresponded with excessive repression. The army fired on protesters inAlgiers, killing several hundred people. Moreover, 'the news thathundreds of persons detained during the recent disturbances had beenbeaten and tortured caused Algerians to rise up in revulsion. Raised tobelieve that torture was what the French colonial authorities hadinflicted on Algerian fighters for independence (mujahidin) threedecades earlier, many Algerians were outraged to encounter torture assomething that Algerians inflicted on other Algerians'.7 The FLN wasnow the moral equivalent of the colonialist oppressor against whom theFLN had supposedly distinguished itself, thereby gaining a legacy ofrevolutionary heroism that was practically its sole source of legitimacy.

For many Algerians, this emotional reaction pushed them across thethreshold between passive and active opposition. Incentives for falsifica-tion of preferences dropped as it became increasingly clear that amajority of Algerians rejected the FLN, long known to be both corruptand inefficient. There appears to have been the sort of bandwagon effectthat Kuran discusses. Even President Chadli Benjedid was now willingto take radical steps, going on television to call for a new constitution.'By its own standards as well as those of other Arab states, Algeria'sdemocratic opening was radical, even historic'.8 The change was an'abrupt political volte-face'.9 Referendums in November 1988, andFebruary 1989 overwhelmingly approved fundamental changes to theAlgerian constitution that promised respect for civil rights (and a freepress) and permitted the formation of independent political associa-tions. The one-party state was abandoned.

Among the 50 or so new political parties formed to take advantage ofthese changes was the FIS, first organized at a mosque in Algiers inFebruary 1989. The government recognized it as a legal partyin September. Some army leaders apparently resisted this legalization,but the prime minister supported recognition.10 Now Algerians whoprivately supported the creation of an Islamic state ruled by Islamic lawcould make their preferences public without fear of official retribution.Under the leadership of Abbassi Madani and AH Belhadj, the FIS

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quickly became a mass organization, reputed to have three millionadherents. During this phase of the democratic opening, the FISpursued a flexible and multifaceted strategy. Based on a network ofsupporters organized through the mosques, the FIS pressed its criticismsof the state bureaucracy, corruption, and western secular elites. EvenAlgerians not attracted to the idea of a religious social and politicalorder could sympathize with attacks on bureaucratic inefficiency andcorruption. In addition to effective dissemination of its beliefs throughsermons (taped and distributed widely) and publications (the FIS wasadept at public relations and exploitation of Algeria's new independentpress), the FIS organized neighborhood social services that the statecould not provide and mounted mass demonstrations, which excitedenthusiasm among supporters and demonstrated the movement's grow-ing power to its opponents. Each Friday nearly 20,000 people assembledto hear Belhadj preach. Demonstrations could easily bring 50,000supporters into the streets. The FIS was thus well-positioned for thelocal elections scheduled for June 1990.

In contrast, other opponents of the government supported democraticreform but not the aim of an Islamic state. Their public preference was asecular democracy practicing religious tolerance. They particularlyobjected to the social code that Algerian Islamists professed, especiallythe potential subordination of women and discrimination against ethnicminorities (the Berbers). The growing power of the FIS raised appre-hensions in these groups, many of whose members were Western-educated intellectuals, francophones who had already fallen undersuspicion during the reign of the FLN. It is worth noting that manyelements within the FLN were as puritanical in regard to Islamicprecepts as followers of the FIS. In May 1990, a demonstration in favorof democracy and against Islamic intransigence attracted as manysupporters as a FIS demonstration - some estimates were a millionpeople in the streets of Algiers. We can assume not only that morepeople were willing to express a public preference (due to the newrealization that open expression would not be punished) but that theirgrowing fear of Islamism altered their private preferences and madethem feel that showing support for secular democracy might affect thepolitical calculus of others. Public displays of preference in massdemonstrations became important to political status; the number ofdemonstrators, however poorly estimated, was always noted and com-mented on in the press. It was the ability of the FIS to organizedemonstrations that caused Algerians to recognize its potential powerand to learn more about its political program. However, while 11political parties contested the elections, several important secular

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political organizations decided to boycott them. These included theFront des forces socialistes (FFS), a secular Berberist party led byHocine Ait Ahmed, a former revolutionary leader who returned in 1989from 23 years in exile, and a party created by former Algerian PresidentAhmed Ben Bella, who was deposed in 1965 and had spent most of theintervening years under house arrest. The public preferences of itssupporters were for both democracy and non-Arabization, but theyrefused to translate this preference into political action in the form ofvoting.

In the June 1990 elections the FLN was decisively defeated. The FIScaptured a majority of seats at the municipal and departmental levelsand gained control of almost all of Algeria's major cities, winning a totalof 54 per cent of the popular vote (with a participation rate of 65-75 percent of eligible voters). The FIS won 854 out of 1541 municipal councilsand 32 of 48 provincial assemblies. The competition for power nowentered a new phase, as the widespread appeal of the FIS as a populist,militant, millenarian force and the unpopularity and illegitimacy of theFLN were undeniable.11 Suddenly Algerian society recognized the FISas a serious contender for power.

The first round of legislative elections at the national level wasscheduled for a year later, in June 1991. The FLN first tried to preventanother FIS victory by gerrymandering electoral districts. In April 1991the National Assembly, under FLN control, passed legislation allowingdisproportionate representation from the districts that had supportedthe FLN. In response, Abbassi Madani, apparently going against theadvice of the majority of the Majlis al-Shura (the FIS governingcouncil), called for a general strike, the abrogation of the electoral law,and the adoption of an Islamic state through jihad and civil dis-obedience. Why did he choose an open challenge to the regime at thispoint? Did he misjudge the private preferences of Algerians and expecta bandwagon that did not arrive? Certainly supporters of the FIS werebeing asked to express their preferences in a public manner that went farbeyond voting or participating in peaceful demonstrations. Even Alger-ians whose private preferences were for the FIS might also havehesitated because the FIS leadership was openly divided on the call forrebellion. To some observers, the electoral law gave the FIS a fortuitouspretext to call for mass revolt, because the party's record of governingAlgeria's municipalities had not been outstanding.12 Madani may havethought that the movement was at the peak of its power at that moment.Others thought the FIS governed reasonably well considering theirinexperience and that their record would not be a liability. Still othersources13 argued that military security agencies had infiltrated the FIS

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and deliberately provoked factionalism and violence. The call torebellion may have been an act of provocation.

Whatever Madani's motive, the result was an upsurge of sporadicviolence in the streets but not mass revolution. Pro-FIS demonstrationsspread through Algiers. The Army intervened to restore order, and on4 June the government declared a state of siege. In quick succession, thegovernment collapsed, the elections were postponed, a new governmentwas formed representing a wider political coalition, and PresidentChadli Benjedid resigned as head of the FLN. The head of state wasthus now separated from the ruling party. It is possible that Chadli tookthis step because he thought he could preside over a future FIS-dominated government if he were not linked to the FLN. Through thesummer relations between the government and the FLN deteriorated asthey argued over the management of the economy and electoral reform.

However, a significant group of Algerian military leaders weresignificantly less willing to compromise with the FIS. The state of siegegave the military power to act as police, detaining civilian suspects,banning publications, meetings and gatherings, and suspending theactivities of associations. Civilians suspected of crimes against thesecurity of the state could be tried by military courts. On 30 June theleaders of the FIS were arrested (and later sentenced to 12 years inprison). At least 5,000 suspected Islamists were arrested for questioningand over 300 were placed in detention camps.14 The declaration of thestate of siege represented a serious escalation of the punishmentinflicted for expressing a public preference for an Islamic state.

The government lifted the state of siege in late September, permittingcampaigning for the December elections. In October Chadli announcedthat the first round of the legislative elections would be held inDecember 1991, and the second in January 1992. His statementappeared to be a signal that the democratization process was back ontrack. However, the FIS delayed its response to the offer to participateand finally decided to contest them only in December. Apparently thedecision to participate came about because a 'moderate' faction of theFIS had seized control of the Majlis al-Shura the preceding July.15 Theelections transpired peacefully and apparently without fraud. Togeneral astonishment, including that of FIS leaders, the party wonenough votes to hold a governing majority in the National Assemblyafter the run-off elections in the next round (189 out of 231 in the firstround). Apparently the FLN and the secular opposition parties hadmistakenly predicted that some sort of coalition would be required. Thescope of the FIS victory was tempered somewhat by the fact that theabstention rate was 41 per cent and 12 per cent of the ballots were

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spoiled, so that only 47 per cent of the population could be said to haveexpressed a preference at the voting booth. However, it was now certainthat the second round of elections would yield a FIS-controlledlegislature, which was then likely to enact the constitutional changesneeded to convert Algeria into an Islamic state ruled by Islamic law.

Clearly the private preferences of the Algerians who supported theFIS had not changed as a result of the government's crackdown in thesummer, and when given a legal opportunity they made their prefer-ences public. Voting is a way of expressing a public preference that inmost cases comports few personal risks, so there was little incentive forfalsification at this stage. There may, however, have been strategicvoting by Algerians who did not support the FIS but wanted to defeatthe FLN by voting for its most powerful opponent. French journalistsDévoluy and Duteil16 explain the 'state of shock' resulting from the'unbelievable rejection' of the political elite that had ruled Algeria for30 years: 'Algerians were ready to vote for the devil if he could get rid ofthe powers that they held generally responsible for the degradation oftheir living conditions.' They also cite the irony of the government'sposition. Because the 'grand' parties such as the FLN and the FFSthought that elections without the FIS would be meaningless, they putpressure on the government to persuade the FIS to participate, eventhough a large minority of the FIS refused until the last minute to votebecause they suspected some sort of trap. The Minister of Communica-tion had personally convinced the most nationalist members of theMajlis al-Shura to direct their supporters to vote.

Another consideration was that the FIS had an effective organizationcentered on the mosques. This network operated as a communitystructure, making the FIS a type of community-based resistance move-ment. If one defines communities as 'sets of individuals engaged inregular patterns of interaction' where 'one is connected to otherindividuals through a set of common and cooperative activities',17 thenthe Islamic movement was a community. Religious leaders naturallyassumed the role of 'first actors', a feature of 'strong communities'thought by Petersen to be 'nearly' a necessary (but not sufficient)precondition for rebellion. The status benefits of becoming a leader ofthe FIS would constitute a powerful selective incentive, especially whenmaterial advance is not a possibility, as it was not in Algeria. These 'firstactors' whose thresholds for rebellion are lower function as 'triggers' forfollowers whose thresholds are higher.18 The existence of this religiouscommunity would later provide a basis for underground violence.

The FFS, which gained 25 seats in the first round of the elections,could reasonably have expected to become a partner in a coalition

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government. The party opposed both the status quo and the Islamistchallenge. Immediately after the elections, the party called a protestmarch in Algiers to 'Save Algeria and Democracy', to reject both the'intégrisf state and the police state. Several hundred thousand peoplejoined the march. But how could these goals be reconciled? Continuingthe process of democratization would give the FIS control of theNational Assembly. Would the FIS moderate its demands for an Islamicstate once in power? Or would the elections be the last Algeria wouldhave? Was a modus vivendi possible? FIS pronouncements on thesubject of democracy were ambiguous and contradictory. The experi-ence with their administration at the local level had been mixed. It wasimpossible to predict what the party would do once in power.

Many officers in the Algerian Army found the prospect of dealingwith an Islamist legislature equally unpleasant, and their power did notdepend on being able to mobilize large numbers of civilian supporters.Their concerns undoubtedly lay not only with the future of Algeriansociety and economy, but with maintenance of their own position andprivileges. The result was an internal coup d'état. On 11 January 1992President Chadli was forced to dissolve the National Assembly and thento resign. The elections, now five days off, were cancelled. A newinstitutional arrangement, a Haut Comité d'Etat (HCE), was put inplace to rule the country until the expiration of Chadli's term inDecember 1993. And, in a startling move, Mohamed Boudiaf, arevolutionary hero and an opponent of the FLN who had lived in exilein Morocco for almost 30 years, came back to preside over the HCE.The 'strongman' of the HCE, however, was General Khaled Nezzar, theMinister of Defense. The HCE remained at the head of the Algeriangovernment until January 1994, although Boudiaf was assassinated byone of his security guards in June 1992. Ali Kafi, a member of the FLNold guard with impeccable credentials, the head of a veterans organiza-tion and a former colonel in the Armée de Libération Nationale,replaced him. Ait Ahmed of the FFS called him a representative of'nationalist fundamentalism'.19 Several changes of prime minister thenensued as the HCE struggled to govern Algeria, with a major shift in thesummer of 1993 when Redha Malek became prime minister andGeneral Lamine Zeroual replaced Nezzar as Defense Minister.

The FIS leadership immediately denounced the January coup butinstructed its followers to avoid violence. The FFS and the FLNcondemned the takeover as well. The real competition, however, wasbetween the security forces (army and police) and FIS supporters,whether or not they represented a popular majority or the FISleadership. On 22 January 1992 the authorities arrested the acting head

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of the FIS, who was reported to be a moderate, which surely led to aradicalization of the movement. As Lamchichi noted, 'the disorganiza-tion of the movement, the movement underground of all its cadres whowere still free, provokes confusion and impossibility to distinguishbetween those holding the "legalist" and "pragmatic" line and the mostradical "dissidents".'20 Street battles between police and Islamic mili-tants became a daily occurrence. For example, two days of violence inFebruary left 40 dead and 300 wounded. An ambush of police in theAlgiers Casbah killed six. An attack on naval headquarters killed sevenmilitary personnel and one policeman. While the number of Islamistsactually involved in violence was small, especially compared to thenumber of people who attended sermons and demonstrations in thedays of legality, violence substituted for numbers.

In early February 1992 the HCE declared a state of emergency, whichcontinues to the present. (Emergency powers are vested in the Ministerof the Interior, rather than the Minister of Defense as was the caseunder the state of siege of the summer of 1991.) Under its provisions,anyone whose behavior is considered dangerous can be interned.People's movements can be restricted or banned and they can bedeported or placed under house arrest. Public meeting places can beclosed, demonstrations banned, and searches ordered day or night.Military courts can try civilians charged with offenses against statesecurity. The authorities seized FIS headquarters and outlawed theparty, which was accused of fomenting rebellion. In March the govern-ment began dissolving the municipal councils and provincial assembliescontrolled by the FIS since the June 1990 elections. Some 9,000suspected FIS supporters were sent to detention camps in the Sahara.Some of those detained were elected officials, while others were merelysuspect on grounds of their characteristic appearance and dress (beardsand white robes). The process appeared arbitrary and indiscriminate.The detainee's involvement in illegal actions seemed irrelevant. Mostwere never charged or brought to trial.21

The decisional calculus for private supporters of the FIS would thushave become a risky choice. The sanctions associated with any publicexpression of preference, even if it took the form of choice of clothing,increased dramatically. It thus became impossible to measure supportfor the FIS because falsification of preference would be imperative toavoid arrest. One could not judge the movement's real influence. Therewere no mass protest movements in its favor, nor did the population riseup in arms, but there may have been much more private support thananyone suspected. The one option that remained was to go under-ground, which is an interesting combination of private and public

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expression. To avoid the stress of falsifying preference, committedIslamists could choose either clandestinity or exit, and FIS leaders didboth. Spokemen for the FIS appeared in the United States andGermany, and networks were probably established among the Algeriancommunity in France (although that population apparently did notwelcome the FIS). Sporadic street violence continued, often associatedwith Friday sermons at mosques, and then armed underground groupsbegan to spread through Algeria. Whether these groups were actuallyassociated with the FIS, much less under orders from some centralIslamist authority, was unknown. They included the Armed IslamicMovement (possibly a part of the FIS, which broke away in the summerof 1991 before the legislative elections were cancelled), the ArmedIslamic Group (claiming to be completely independent of the FIS),Hizbollah, al-Takfir wa'l Hijra (Repentance and Emigration) and agroup (or groups) called the Afghans, veterans of the Afghanistan war.Violence took the form of decentralized terrorism and guerrilla warfarerather than organized mass rebellion.

The regime also escalated repression in response to Islamist violence.After attacks on the security forces, especially the February 1992 assaulton the navy headquarters in Algiers, the courts began handing downdeath sentences. In October, a stringent anti-terrorism law establishedthree special courts to try civilians, broadened the definition of terror-ism, and listed it as a criminal offense. Executions began in January1993, and by the end of the summer over 250 death sentences had beenhanded down. In April 1993 the Algerian government announced thatsince the passage of the anti-terrorism law, 211 Islamists had beenkilled, 3,800 arrested, and more than a thousand identified andpursued.22 A curfew was declared in Algiers and its suburbs inDecember 1992. In May 1993 the Islamists accused of the August 1992airport bombing received 38 death sentences, 26 in absentia. Seven ofthe defendants were executed in August. Also in August, when thegovernment was reorganized, retired Colonel Selim Saadi received thepost of Minister of the Interior. His appointment was reportedlyconnected to a projected unification of police and military units as amore efficient anti-terrorism force. The selection of Malek as primeminister, an experienced diplomat known to be in favor of moderniza-tion and opposed to radical Islam, was also thought to presage toughermeasures against violence. In October 1993,20 people were executed byfiring squad (there were 26 executions in 1993, the first since 1989).

It would seem, then, that declaring a public preference for Islam-icism, no matter how innocuous or moderate the expression, wouldinvoke only severe penalties. However, the regime's signals were

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contradictory, and it would seem that the government was trying toinfluence Algerians' private preferences as well as their public actions.Government policy, however inconsistent, gave the impression that inthe future some representatives of Islamism would be rewarded. Thepurpose would be to encourage 'moderates' while discouraging'extremists'. Thus the government combined repression with indicationsthat it wanted to open a 'dialogue' with the FIS. As early as May 1992the HCE announced a program of 'rassemblement patriotique' to unitethe country around a 'constructive national dialogue'. The authoritiessimultaneously released 150 Islamists. In August the new HCE (estab-lished after Boudiaf s assassination) announced that the internmentcamps would be progressively closed, and by February 1993, 8,000people had been released. Despite the passage of the anti-terrorism law,in September the HCE announced the opening of discussions with otherpolitical organizations to arrange a transition period leading up tolegislative and presidential elections. And even the stringent anti-terrorism law provided that terrorists who had not caused deaths orinjuries could be amnestied, and others could receive a prison termrather than the death penalty if they surrendered before December. Inthe autumn of 1993 the government announced the formation of a'commission of national dialogue', composed of five civilians and threegenerals. The new commission was to augment the HCE's efforts toorganize a 'national conference' of varied political interests to prepare atransition to elections.

Several political groups responded favorably if cautiously to the offerof a dialogue, including the FFS, the FLN, and the moderate Islamicgroup Hamas. The FFS had argued that no political solution waspossible without the participation of the military, so their inclusion onthe commission was a favorable development, but they also feared amilitary-Islamist coalition. Le Monde of 18 October 1993 called the FFS'reserved'. On 29 October Le Monde also reported that members of thenew commission had been in touch with Abdelkader Hachani, thesupposedly moderate FIS leader who was arrested in January 1992. InNovember the HCE issued another offer of compromise with anypolitical groups who respected the law, but the Armed Islamic Group,not under FIS control, announced immediately that they would acceptno dialogue, negotiation, or reconciliation with the government.23 Andon 15 November Paris news agencies received a FIS communiqué issuedin Algiers and signed by a known FIS leader who had gone undergroundin March 1992. It warned that 'those who cooperate with a regime thathas no other objective than to stay in power will be considered asassociated with the crime against the Algerian people.' It also rejected

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any dialogue, reconciliation, or peace.24 None of the undergroundgroups was likely to risk appearing conciliatory toward the government.

Terrorism against civilians grew along with armed attacks on policeand military. The first targets were the government officials appointedto replace FIS office-holders after the spring of 1992. Then in March1993 three members of the Conseil Consultatif National, an advisorybody appointed by the HCE to act as a sort of legislative body, wereassassinated. In response the Union générale des travailleurs algériens, asemi-official body, and the Rassemblement pour la culture et la démo-cratie, led by Said Saadi, neither thought necessarily to be sympatheticto the military regime, organized an officially authorized demonstrationagainst terrorism in Algiers. Le Monde, however, reported that therewere few young people among the crowds.25 Shortly later, the moderateIslamic movement Hamas (no connection to the Palestinian group) alsocondemned terrorism. Later in the year judges became favored targets:eight were assassinated between May and December.

As the FIS warning predicted, beginning in May 1993, unofficialcivilian critics of the Islamic movement became victims of terrorism.Even Muslim religious figures who opposed the political radicalizationof Islam were attacked. On 26 May author and journalist Tahar Djaoutwas assassinated. In his novels he had disparaged both religiousextremism and the false revolutionary piety of the FLN. After thatintellectuals, especially professionals such as physicians and journalists(television as well as print) and professors, fell to assassins. The listincludes professors of philosophy and psychiatrists, Catholic and Mus-lim religious figures, playwrights and poets. Victims included sociologistM'Hamed Boukhobza, television journalist Rabah Zenati, pediatricianDjilali Belkhencher, professor of Islamic law Ahmed Hambali, Abder-rahmane Chergou, a writer opposed to political Islam, MustaphaAbada, the former head of Algerian national television and an adviserto the Paris mosque, and Rabah Guenzef, a member of the CommunistParty and a professor of philosophy. Journalists were also singled out;nine were murdered in 1993. The editor of the French-language paperEl Watan26 noted that the assassins made no distinction between thosewho worked in free and independent newspapers and those who workedfor the state. No distinction was made as to who used French or Arabic.After the autumn of 1993 foreigners, starting with two French sur-veyors, also became the targets of terrorism. Victims included theforeign wives of Algerians, Russian military officers, oil technicians,French diplomats, businessmen, and construction workers.

Further complicating individual calculations of risk was uncertaintyabout who was responsible for the attacks. 'As the uncertainty increases

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and press coverage becomes more constrained, . . . acts of violencehave proved difficult to attribute with any conviction and could in manycases be opportunistic. Many Algerians suspect hardliners in thesecurity forces of manipulating, or even initiating, individual assassin-ations to discredit the Islamists, who rarely claim direct responsibilityfor deaths.'27 For example, psychiatrist Mahfoud Boucebei, who wasassassinated in June 1993, was a major figure in the Algerian intellectualcommunity, a 'laico-assimilationisf who had been publicly criticized notjust by Islamists but by the then prime minister Belaid Abdesslam.Tahar Djaout had been as critical of the FLN as of the FIS.

Uncertainty about responsibility for violence, making it difficult forthe individual to calculate the likelihood of punishment for the expres-sion of preference, was aggravated by censorship of the press, whichalso created doubts about the regime's commitment to democracy andfreedom of expression. Human Rights Watch reports that 'Algeria'spress, heralded only three years ago as one of the liveliest in the Arabworld, has been under siege since the 1992 coup. Over the past years,the pressure has come not only from the regime but also from thoseseeking to overthrow it.'28 The government was particularly concernedto curb reporting about the extent of civil violence. It suspendednewspapers eight times, arrested 30 journalists, and tried to preventpublication by putting pressure on the state enterprises that contributeto the news industry. Foreign journalists were expelled or denied visas(as were human rights workers).. As Human Rights Watch notes 'mostof the Algerian Government's actions against the press since 1992 seemprimarily designed to inhibit criticism of government officials andinstitutions, and to muzzle independent reporting and commentary onthe internal security situation'.29 Furthermore, 'Contrary to what mighthave been expected, most - but not all - of the publications that thegovernment has punished exhibit little editorial sympathy for theIslamist opposition'.

The term of the HCE, as a substitute presidency, was due to expire inDecember 1993, but no resolution of Algeria's difficulties was in sight.Neither repression nor dialogue had worked. Algeria's economic situa-tion was precarious. Industry was said to be working at only 50 per centcapacity. Repayment of the foreign debt was costing Algeria 75 per centof her petroleum industry earnings. The official unemployment rate was20 per cent. The International Monetary Fund was said to be asking fora 50 per cent devaluation of the Algerian dinar. Foreign investment wasdropping as attacks on foreigners increased. Most embassies hadevacuated their dependents.30 In January 1994 the regime held a specialconference to unite all political factions and reach a national consensus.

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The non-FIS Islamist parties were included, but because the FIS wasexcluded, the important political parties boycotted the conference.

The military then moved more openly into the political arena byreplacing the HCE with retired General Liamine Zeroual, the Ministerof Defense, as President. Zeroual's position on compromise with theFIS was apparently moderate, although some people thought hisconciliatory posture was phony. He was reported to have met with FISleaders Madani and Belhadj during the winter, but nothing happened.Several FIS representatives were released from detention in Januaryand February. In April 1994 Zeroual organized a cabinet reshuffle thatwas interpreted as an additional overture to the Islamists. PrimeMinister Redha Malek, known as resolutely opposed to any official'dialogue' with the FIS, resigned. So, too, did the Minister of theInterior, who was also an 'eradicator', as distinct from the 'reconciler'faction within the government.31 In early May the Paris center-rightnewspaper Le Figaro was predicting a 'military-Islamist republic' withinthe year.32 The Clinton administration began openly pressing theAlgerian government to compromise and even met with representativesof the FIS. However, not all military leaders seemed to support theidea. They seemed to believe that the security forces should make moreprogress against the radical Islamists before trying to bargain. In earlyMay a public demonstration in favor of compromise was poorlyattended, and it was reported that the police refused to provide securityfor it. Thus uncertainty about Algeria's future continues to complicatechoices, and most information comes from rumor.

While Zeroual was struggling to develop a policy, violence betweenIslamist groups and the security forces - ambushes of police or armypatrols, sabotage, assassinations of civilians, including the Rector of theUniversity of Algiers and the head of the Algerian League for HumanRights - escalated. By 22 March, 32 foreigners had been assassinated.By May, 13 journalists had been killed. Amnesty International notedthat since February lawyers had been receiving threats warning themnot to plead before the special courts set up by the 1992 anti-terrorismlaw.33 Three were assassinated in April and May. Although thegovernment maintains a strict censorship of information about numbersof casualties, Le Monde reported on 31 March 1994 that in the two daysbetween 23 and 25 March the security forces had killed 52 Islamists,making the total killed 323 in 15 days. Courts had handed down 480death sentences. There were also reports of FIS infiltration of the armyand the administration. The secular opposition to the regime continuedto fear a deal between the FIS and the military and to protest terrorism,but the numbers of people willing to demonstrate openly had dropped.

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The most willing to speak up are women. Their dilemma and theemotional pain caused by the concealment of a deeply held belief orpreference is captured in the remarks made by a woman worried aboutsending her daughter to school, after another schoolgirl was assass-inated for refusing to cover her head. She explained that letting herdaughter wear the scarf demanded by Islamists (the hidjab) was a 'lossof soul' but to let her go with her head bare was exposing her to the riskof death.34

The majority of the population continued to try to avoid taking sides.It has become too risky to express any preference at all. People who giveinterviews to foreign journalists uniformly refuse to allow their names tobe used. Reporters describe the state of public opinion in such terms as'passive uneasiness'35 and 'heavy silence'.36 The danger comes from allsides and its origin are hidden. Amnesty International reported on 22June that 'civilians continue to be killed everyday in Algeria bymembers of the security forces, armed Islamist opposition groups, andother armed groups. In most cases the killers escape leaving no trace,making it impossible to establish with certainty who is responsible forthe killings.'

During the fall of 1994, despite the government's transfer of the FISleadership from prison to house arrest and the convocation of anotherround of the 'national dialogue', conditions continued to deteriorate.Although Algeria reached an agreement with the IMF and succeeded inrescheduling the debt, grave economic problems persist. PresidentZeroual appears to be trying to find a means to effect a politicalcompromise and has promised presidential elections in 1995, buthardliners in the military remain opposed to accommodation and arecapable of blocking moves that would permit the participation of theFIS in national politics. At the end of October the military embarked onanother security offensive, like the one of the preceding April, and thenumber of deaths reached 100 per week in November. The USgovernment has criticized the prevalence of 'extrajudicial murders'.There were contradictory rumors of both animpending hardliner coupand the resignation of General Mohammed Laman, the intransigentArmy Chief of Staff. The FIS has not eased its stance but did participatein unofficial multiparty talks in Rome, which the government refused toattend.

Conclusion

A theory of revolution based on the assumption of widespread falsifica-tion of preference tells that us that we should not mistake silence or

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passivity for lack of preference. Not taking a side in a civil conflict aspolarized and uncertain as Algeria's does not mean that the individualdoes not have a position. The costs of expressing any preference -whether for democracy, for Islam, or for the regime - are potentially toogreat. There is no way of knowing how much support there is behindany stand. Deception is essential for all but the most bold or the mostwell-guarded. No expression can be protected. People who are temptedto be 'first actors' because they value integrity or the respect of theircommunity are quickly put out of action by either the government or thearmed Islamic undergrounds. This extreme vulnerability, which contri-butes to the individual's ignorance of the preferences of others,combined with the fragmented state of private preference makesrevolution unlikely.

There is a further disjuncture between the short-term likelihood ofpunishment and absence of the possibility of reward (especially con-sidering the state of the economy and social disruption) and the long-term prospect of reward. Who can persist through immediate danger toreach an ultimate outcome that will be favorable? Whose preferencesare most intense? Who actually has influence over the outcome? Whichsocial groups will determine rewards and punishments in the future?These are questions that neither individual Algerians nor outsideobservers can answer.

What is certain is that the emotional cost of danger and deception ishigh. Many Algerians have fled to France or to any other country thatwill provide asylum. Discontent and frustration are obviously high.Under these circumstances, as Kuran noted, a minor event could sparkmajor change.

NOTES

Prepared for presentation to the Seventeenth Annual Scientific Meeting of the InternationalSociety of Political Psychology, Universidad de Santiago, Santiago de Compostela, Spain,11-15 July 1994.

1. Timur Kuran, 'Preference Falsification, Policy Continuity and Collective Conserva-tism', The Economic Journal, 97 (1987), pp.642-65; idem, 'Sparks and prairie fires: Atheory of unanticipated political revolution', Public Choice, 61 (1989), pp.41-74;idem, 'Private and Public Preferences', 'Economics and Philosophy, 6 (1990), pp.1-26; and idem, 'The Element of Surprise in the East European Revolutions of 1989',World Politics, Vol. 44 (1991), pp.7-48.

2. Kuran, 'Private and Public Preferences', p.8.3. Kuran, 'Element of Surprise', pp.12-13.4. Kuran, 'Sparks and prairie fires', p.56. This article is particularly relevant to the

present case, since the theory is applied to Iran.5. Ibid., p.60.6. Claire Spencer, 'Algeria in Crisis', Survival 36/2 (Summer 1994), pp.149-63.

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7. Human Rights Watch, Human Rights Abuses in Algeria: No One Is Spared (NY:Human Rights Watch/Middle East, 1994), p.11.

8. J.P. Entelis, 'The crisis of authoritarianism in North Africa: the case of Algeria',Problems of Communism, Vol. 41 (1992), pp.71-81.

9. Spencer (note 6), p.152.10. A. Lamchichi, L'Islamisme en Algérie (Paris: L'Harmattan, 1992), p.101.11. Ibid., pp.76-7.12. Ibid., pp.78-9.13. E.g., M.S. Tahi, 'The arduous democratisation process in Algeria', Journal of

Modern African Studies, Vol. 30 (1992), pp.397-419.14. See Human Rights Watch (note 7), p.1.15. P. Dévoluy and M. Duteil (1994) La poudrière algérienne (Paris: Calmann-Lévy,

1994), p.26.16. Ibid., p.28.17. R. Petersen, 'A community-based theory of rebellion', Archives européenes de

sociologie. Vol. 34 (1993), pp.43, 45 of pp.41-78.18. Ibid., p.46.19. Tahi (note 13), p.419.20. Lamchichi (note 10), p.189.21. Human Rights Watch (note 7), p.18.22. Le Monde, 1 April 1993.23. Ibid., 23 Nov. 1993.24. Ibid., 17 Nov. 1993.25. Ibid., 1 April 1993.26. Interview, 21 June 1994.27. Spencer (note 6), p.150.28. Human Rights Watch (note 7), p.39.29. Ibid., p.43. The pattern of official suspension of critical press has continued, as have

assassinations of journalists (27 by Dec. 1994).30. Le Monde, 30 Nov. 1993 and Le Monde Diplomatique, Dec. 1993, p.8.31. Washington Post National Weekly Ed., 13-19 June 1994.32. Le Figaro, 7-8 May 1994.33. Amnesty International press release, 22 June 1994.34. Le Monde, 24 March 1994.35. As note 31.36. Le Monde, 3 Feb. 1994.

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Documents

Political violence in Algeria