Shortly after the Arab [[Spring]] broke out at the tail end of 2010, two narratives took hold in Arab world and Western world toward it. [[Optimists]] hailed a region-wide birth of democracy and they started to aspire the notion of getting rid of some of the despotic regiemes that have beein ruling them for decades. A large group of [[pessimists]] on the other hand expreessed counter views to the effectivness of revolutions. Some of them express their fears that revolutions are replacing the secular tyrants Regiems with even more repressive and strict Islamist regimes. Others demostrate that the chaos and destruction that persisted as results of revolutions are unmatched price for the quest for democracy.
The [[ western world]] also supports the cause of the Arab Springs thought its official perspectives toward the issue is highly political. Western intellectualism also agrees with the grounds of Arab people demostrations such as the quest for equity and political and economic reformations.
The Arab Spring isn’t one thing. Many countries in the [[Middle East]] and [[North Africa]] are experiencing wrenching change, but each affected country is moving in different and sometimes opposing directions. Each has its own history, its own narrative.*
Optimists are vital provocatives to the outburst of revolutions against tyrinical rulers. Usually, political dissents and intellectuals such as [[writers]] and thinkers are mostly aware of the grim political atmosphere in the country they live in. So, we see these people as the first who call for political reformation , or they sometimes call for [[revolting]] against the regimes when prospects of changes are impossible. In the Arab world, advocates of the revolutions emphasised the necessity of reform and change. Therefore, huge numbers of <a href="http://www.invisible-dog.com/pictures/primavera_game_over.jpg">protesters</a>, men and <a href="https://inveritascrescentes.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/arab-spring-women-egypt.jpg">women</a> even <a href="http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/media/images/57364000/jpg/_57364055_jex_1266485_de27-1.jpg">children</a> decided to march in the streets and spend days and nights in quest for democracy. At times of mobalization, those poeple and some of them are still full of hope and positive aspirations toward their future
A notable sector of Arab people disaaproved what is called "Arab [[Spring]]." These people justify their postions by claiming that this spring has brought destruction and backwardness to Arab countries. This spirit can be traced in many of Arab intellectuals' [[writings]]in which they express the feeling og despare, confusion and indecisivness toward the circumstances that manifested themselves during and after revolutions. Howeveer, this trend seems to be [[universal]] where previous advocates of revolutions retreated from there supportive standpoint toward them because the real outcomes of the revolutions refute the utopian outlook the advocates looked forward in post-revolution state.
Those who oppose Arab Spring refer to the amount homeless people and the number of deaths that resulted from these revolutions. These people also believe that people's aspirations and needs could be achieved gradually with no needs for protesting and hindering the progress of the country. Some other group of those who stand against changing the political regime have some fears of the alternatives that will hold power next. Precisely, advocates of secular and liberal states are afraid of the possibility for the severly conservative Islamic sects to grip power, which will be used against them as liberals argue. Double-click this passage to edit it.It is widely agreed on that Arab Spring has its roots in Tunise where the young man,<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuVRwDBiKws">Mohammad Boazizi</a>,
burned himself out of despar that resulted from his inability to find a secured and proper life. Generally speaking, Arab Spring in Arab countries in the African continent is different from [[Middle East]]. Algeria has not witnessed real protests or confrontation between the state and the public. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bCiY8eg2klY ">Morocco</a> also responded quiclky to its people needs by undertaking quick and urgent political reformation.
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r175U_wSI84">Egypt</a> also witnessed less intensed and cruel revolution at earlier stages, but after the protester succeeded in dethroning the old regime, the country was divided upon itself. However,<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ThvBJMzmSZI">Egyptian protesters</a> showed strong stamina and civility in their demonstrations, which culminated in the removal of Hussini Mubarek regime which ruled them for more that 40 years.
On the other hand, Libya a bloody spring. Moa'mmar Al Ghathafi refused sternly to abdicate. His abstination and the public's determination resulted in many massacres in which many Libyans lost their lives. Not only this, Al Ghathafi's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xi-8GKJSbaU">orragance</a> made him deny the existance of a Lybian nation. He also claimed that protesters are in fact drugs addicts, so they are unconscious of what they are doing. In this way, Al Ghathafi also the existence of a mindful and conscious Libyan individual who has some aspirations that he yearns to accomplish.
Usually [[spring season]] bespeaks of hope, rebirth, and blossomings after the gloomy and cold days of winter. I wonder about the person who coined the term of "Arab Spring" and attributed it to describe Arab people mobalization against their rulers. I am sure that it was carefully chosen, but after some intellectuals and normal people started debating the suitability of the term as long as they have been experiencing the outcomes of mobalizations and how they back fired. For these people, it would be more effective to replace the word "spring" with <a href="http://www.poemhunter.com/poems/autumn/">autumn</a> since it is the more sutable word the best desribes the desparate and gloomy atmosphere that prevailed the Arab scene in countries where mobalizations still brewing and in other countires where people live post-revolutions era.
Western official reponse to Arab Spring is highly politically-oriented. Most of western countries <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhDSTN8H0Uo">leaders</a> support the cause of Arab people demonstrations that call for disseminating democracy and undertaking advancment in public servives. This standpoint stems from these officials'understanding of the factors that inflamed this movement in Arab World.
Furthermore, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bd3F9rBWPOA">Noam Chomsky
</a> remarks that Arab Spring a significant historical development. He addresses the issue within an economic framework and that economic factors and underdeveloped circumstances in Egypt as an example are primal movers of the people to protest besides the political dictatorship.
Interestingly enough, I found a western blogger or essayist named Austin Allen who suggests that Percy Shelley's poem “[[Masque]]" actually "inspired the Arab Spring." This was written in response to the Peterloo Massacre of 1819, in which British troops attacked a defenseless crowd of citizen protesters.
Ode to Spring
Frederick Seidel, 1936
I can only find words for.
And sometimes I can’t.
Here are these flowers that stand for.
I stand here on the sidewalk.
I can’t stand it, but yes of course I understand it.
Everything has to have meaning.
Things have to stand for something.
I can’t take the time. Even skin-deep is too deep.
I say to the flower stand man:
Beautiful flowers at your flower stand, man.
I’ll take a dozen of the lilies.
I’m standing as it were on my knees
Before a little man up on a raised
Runway altar where his flowers are arrayed
Along the outside of the shop.
I take my flames and pay inside.
I go off and have sexual intercourse.
The woman is the woman I love.
The room displays thirteen lilies.
I stand on the surface.
one of the best examples that underscores the strong connection between writers and revolutions is William Wordsword's The Prelude (1850). In this long poem, Wordsworth shows his strong adherence to the cause of the French Revolution.
" [...] 'Twas in truth an hour
Of universal ferment; mildest men
Were agitated; and commotions, strife
Of passion and opinion, filled the walls
Of peaceful houses with unique sounds.
The soil of common life, was, at that time,
Too hot to tread upon."
(The Prelude, ix, 163-9)
What is stiking is that the poem itself in diffirent position also reveals the transformation of Wordsworth's standpoint to the idea of revolution. He turned to be one of the many [[pessimists]] who tend to be restrained and conservative against reformation and change.
My Arab Spring that Never Was – A Poem
By Nasser Barghouty
I thought in numbers we could say what is
or what was right
placards drawn with blood and no fright
young and old stay the course
street by street
and night after night
where the stars have turned a page
and time its stray discourse
and the whole world a stage
on my spring that never was
Tell me if I am right
if you happen to see my black from my white
tell me if might had always made right
in this Arab spring of mine
that never was
tell me if you can
tell me if history
or a crude stereography
have me and my story
and our Arab glory
in their jaws
or will it
in my night
and in my endless flight
Tell me if you can
Red is the new color of my sight
red is the new word
on the streets of my Arab spring
that never was
red is the new color of my sight
or have I erred
tell me if you can
what have I stirred?
in this history
this Arab glory?
that turns right into wrong
weak into strong
and what is whole
into the absurd?
is it darker
is it bright?
Tell me if you can
Three years and counting
from Benghazi to Baghdad
have we forgotten how to count?
or have we laid to rest all
that which together
we have breathed
and defended stout
tell me if you can
was it sane or was it mad
to heed that call
for my Arab spring that never was
to drop all for what was unsheathed
and for that which was just and a cause
tell me if you can
I was there in every corner
and every turn
in every broken bone
and every moan
I was there
I touched and kissed every tear
year after year
one fading smile after the other
one hopeless yearn after another
I was there
street, capital, and
I no longer dare
to face or stare
my Arab spring that never was
here or there.
Wake up mother [country]
Time has run out
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
We will rise up.
Dying in the stubborn hungry earth.
We will fight hard.
Against the hungry earth.
From Maishe Maponya's "The Hungry Earth"
"[…] now, sole register that these things were,
Two solitary greetings have I heard,
'Good morrow, Citizen!' a hollow word,
As if a dead man spoke it. Yet despair
Touches me not, though pensive as a bird
Whose vernal coverts winter hath laid bare."
William Wordsworth's "he Prelude"
Wordsworsh here outlines the situation in France when he visited it in 1802 during the Napoleonic liquidation of the French Revolution gains. Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.
The Masque of Anarchy
As I lay asleep in Italy,
There came a voice from over the sea,
And with great power it forth led me
To walk in the visions of Poesy.
I met Murder on the way--
He had a mask like Castlereagh--
Very smooth he look'd yet grim;
Seven bloodhounds followed him:
All were fat; and well they might
Be in admirable plight,
For one by one, and two by two,
He tossed them humanhearts to chew,
Which from his wide cloak he drew.
Next came Fraud, and he had on,
Like Lord E--, an ermined gown;
His big tears, for he wept well,
Turned to mill-stones as they fell;
And the little children, who
Round his feet played to and fro,
Thinking every tear a gem,
Had their brains knockedout by, them.
Clothed with the * * as with light,
And the shadows of the night,
Like * * * next, Hypocrisy,
On a crocodile rode by.
And many more Destructions played
In this ghastly masquerade,
All disguised, even to the eyes,
Like bishops,lawyers, peers, or spies.
Last came Anarchy; he rode
On a white horse, splashed with blood;
He was pale even to the lips,
Like Death in the Apocalypse.
And be wore a kingly crown;
And in his grasp a sceptre shone;
And on his brow this mark I saw--
I am God, and King, and Law!
With a pace stately and fast,
Over English land he past,
Trampling to a mire of blood
And a mighty troop around,
With their trampling shook the ground,
Waving each a bloody sword,
For the service of their Lord.
And with glorious triumph, they
Rode through England proud and gay,
Drunk as with intoxication
Of the wine of desolation.
O'er fields and towns, from sea to sea,
Passed the pageant swift and free,
Tearing up, and trampling down,
Till they came to London: town.
And each dweller, panic-stricken,
Felt his heart with terror sicken,
Hearing the tempestuous cry
Of the triumph of Anarchy.
For with pomp to meet him came,
Clothed in arms like blood and flame,
Ile hired murderers who did sing,
Thou art God, and Law, and King.
"We have waited, weak and lone,
For thy coming, Mighty One!
Our purses are empty, our swords are cold,
Give us glory, and blood, and gold."
Lawyers and priests, a motley crowd,
To the earth their pale brows bowed
Like a bad prayer not over loud,
Whispering-"Thou art Law and God."
Then all cried with one accord,
"Thou art King, and God, and Lord;
Anarchy, to thee we bow,
Be thy name made holy now!"
And Anarchy, the skeleton,
Bowed and grinned to every one,
As well as if his education,
Had cost ten millions to the nation.
For he knew the palaces
Of our kings were nightly his;
His the sceptre, crown, and globe,
And the gold-in-woven robe.
So he sent his slaves before
To seize upon the Bank and Tower,
And was proceeding with intent
To meet his pensioned parliament,
When one fled past, a maniac maid,
And her name was Hope, she said:
But she looked more like Despair;
And she cried out in the air;
"My father, Time, is weak and grey
With waiting for a better day;
See how idiot-like he stands,
Fumbling with his palsied hands!
"He has had child after child,
And the dust of death is piled
Over every one but me--
Misery! oh, Misery!"
Then she lay down in the street,
Right before the horses' feet,
Expecting with a patient eye,
Murder, Fraud, and Anarchy.
When between her and her foes
A mist, a light, an image rose,
Small at first, and weak and frail.
Like the vapour of the vale:
Till, as clouds grow on the blast,
Like tower-crown'd giants striding fast,
And glare with lightnings as they fly,
And speak in thunder to the sky,
It grew -- a shape arrayed in mail
Brighter than the viper's scale,
And upborne on wings whose grain
Was as the light of sunny rain.
On its helm, seen far away,
A planet, like the morning's, lay;
And those plumes it light rained through,
Like a shower of crimson dew,
With step as soft as wind it passed
O'er the heads of men -- so fast
That they knew the presence there,
And looked-and all was empty air.
As flowers beneath the footstep waken,
As stars from night's loose hair are shaken,,
As waves arise when loud winds call,
Thoughts sprung where'er that step did fall.
And the prostrate multitude
Looked -- and ankle deep in blood,
Hope, that maiden most serene,
Was walking with a quiet mien:
And Anarchy, the ghastly birth,
Lay dead earth upon the earth;
The Horse of Death, tameless as wind,
Fled, and with his hoofs did grind
To dust the murderers thronged behind.
A rushing light of clouds and splendour,
A sense, awakening and yet tender,
Was heard and felt -- and at its close
These words of joy and fear arose:
(As if their own indignant earth,
Which gave the sons of England birth,
Had felt their blood upon her brow,
And shuddering with a mother's throe,
Had turned every drop of blood,
By which her face had been bedewed,
To an accent unwithstood,
As if her heart had cried aloud:)
"Men of England, Heirs of Glory,
Heroes of unwritten story,
Nurslings of one mighty mother,
Hopes of her, and one another,
"Rise, like lions after slumber,
In unvanquishable number,
Shake your chains to earth like dew,
Which in sleep had fall'n on you.
"What is Freedom? Ye can tell
That which Slavery is too well,
For its very name has grown
To an echo of your own.
"'Tis to work, and have such pay
,As just keeps life from day to day
In your limbs, as in a cell
For the tyrants' use to dwell:
"So that ye for them are made,
Loom, and plough, and sword, and spade;
With or without your own will, bent
To their defense and nourishment.
"'Tis to see your children weak
With their mothers pine and peak;
When the winter winds are bleak:
They are dying whilst I speak.
"'Tis to hunger for such diet,
As the rich man in his riot
Casts to the fat dogs that lie
Surfeiting beneath his eye.
"'Tis to let the Ghost of Gold
Take from toil a thousand fold,
More than e'er its substance could
In the tyrannies of old:
"Paper coin--that forgery
Of the title deeds, which ye
Hold to something of the worth
Of the inheritance of Earth.
"'Tis to be a slave in Soul,
And to bold no strong controul.
Over your own wills, but be
All that others make of ye.
"And at length when ye complain,
With a murmur weak and vain,
'Tis to see the tyrant's crew
Ride over your wives and you:
Blood is on the grass like dew.
"Then it is to feel revenge,
Fiercely thirsting to exchange
Blood for blood-and wrong for wrong:
DO NOT THUS, WHEN YE ARE STRONG.
"Birds find rest in narrow nest,
When-weary of the winged quest;
Beasts find fare in woody lair,
When storm and snow are in the air.
"Asses, swine, have litter spread,
And with fitting food are fed;
All things have a home but one:
Thou, oh Englishman, hast none!
"This is Slavery-savage men,
Or wild beasts within a den,
Would endure not as ye do:
But such ills they never knew.
"What art thou, Freedom? Oh! could Slaves
Answer from their living graves
This demand, tyrants would flee
Like a dream's dim imagery.
Thou art not, as impostors say,
A shadow soon to pass away,
A superstition, and a name
Echoing from the eaves of Fame.
"For the labourer thou art bread,
And a comely table spread,
From his daily labour come,
In a neat and happy home.
"Thou art clothes, and fire, and food
For the trampled multitude:
NO-in countries that are free
Stich starvation cannot be,
As in England now we see.
"To the rich thou art. a check;
When his foot is on the neck
Of his victim; thou dost make
That he treads upon a snake.
"Thou art Justice--ne'er for gold
May thy righteous laws be sold,
As laws are in England:--thou
Sheild'st alike the high and low.
"Thou art Wisdom-Freedom never
Dreams that God will damn for ever
All who think those things untrue,
Of which priests make such ado
"Thou art Peace-never by thee
Would blood and treasure wasted be,
As tyrants wasted them, when all
Leagued to quench thy flame in Gaul,
"What if English toil and blood
Was poured forth-, even as a flood!
It availed,--oh Liberty!
To dim --- but not extinguish thee.
"Thou art Love--the rich have kist
Thy feet, and like him following Christ,
Give their substance to the free,
And through the rough world follow thee.
"Oh turn their wealth to arms, and make
War for thy beloved sake,
On wealth and war and fraud: whence they
Drew the power which is their prey.
"Science, and Poetry, and Thought,
Are thy lamps; they make the lot
Of the dwellers in a cot
So serene, they curse it not.
"Spirit, Patience, Gentleness,
All that can adorn and bless,
Art thou: let deeds, not words, express
Thine exceeding loveliness.
"Let a great assembly be
Of the fearless, of the free,
On some spot of English ground,
Where the plains stretch wide around.
"Let the blue sky overhead,
The green earth, on which ye tread,
All that must eternal be,
Witness the solemnity.
"From the corners uttermost
Of the bounds of English coast;
From every but, village, and town,
Where those who live and suffer, moan
For others' misery and their own:
"From the workhouse and the prison,
Where pale as corpses newly risen,
Women, children, young, and old,
Groan for pain, and weep for cold;
"From the haunts of daily life,
Where is waged the daily strife
With common wants and common cares,
Which sow the human heart with tares;
"Lastly, from the palaces,
Where the murmur of distress
Echoes, like the distant sound
Of a wind alive around;
"Those prison-halls of wealth and fashion,
Where some few feel such compassion
For those who groan, and toil, and wait,
As must make their brethren pale;
"Ye who suffer woes untold,
Or to feel, or to behold
Your lost country bought and sold
With a price of blood and gold;
"Let a vast assembly be,
And with great solemnity
Declare with measured words, that ye
Are, as God has made ye, free!
"Be your strong and simple words
Keen to wound as sharpened swords,
And wide as targes let them be,
With their shade to cover ye.
Let the tyrants pour around
With a quick and startling sound,
Like the loosening of a sea,
Troops of armed emblazonry.
"Let the charged artillery drive,
Till the dead air seems alive
With the clash of clanging wheels,
And the tramp of horses' heels.
"Let the fixed bayonet
Gleam with sharp desire to wet
Its bright point in English blood, Looking keen as one for food.
"Let the horsemen's scimitars
Wheel and flash, like sphereless stars,
Thirsting to eclipse their burning
In a sea of death and mourning.
"Stand ye calm and resolute,
Like a forest close and mute,
With folded arms, and looks which are
Weapons of an unvanquished war.
"And let Panic, who outspeeds
The career of armed steeds,
Pass, a disregarded shade,
Thro' your phalanx indismay'd.
The three stanzas next ensuing are printed in italics, not because
they are better, or indeed so well written, as some of the rest, but as
marking out the sober, lawful, and charitable mode of proceeding
advocated and anticipated by this supposed reckless innovator. 1, "Pus-
obedience " he certainly had not; but here follows a picture and a
recommendation of "non-resistance, " in all its glory. The mingled
emotion and dignity of it is admirably, expressed in the second line of
stanza eighty-five. Let churches millitant read it, and blush to call
the author no Christian !
"Let the laws of your own land,
Good or ill, between ye stand,
Hand to hand, and foot to foot,
Arbiters of the dispute.
"The old laws of England--they
Whose reverend heads with age are grey,
Children of a wiser day;
And whose solemn voice must be
Thine own echo--Liberty!
"On those who first should violate
Such sacred heralds in their state,
Rest the blood that must ensue,
And it will not rest on you.
"And if then the tyrants dare,
Let them ride among you there;
Slash, and stab, and maim, and hew;
What they like, that let them do.
"With folded arms and steady eyes,
And little fear and less surprise,
Look upon them as they stay
Till their rage hasdied away:
"Then they will return with shame,
To the place from which they came,
And the blood thus shed will speak
In hotblushes on their cheek,
"Every woman in the land
Will point at them as they stand
They will hardly dare to greet
Their acquaintance in the street:
"And the bold, true warriors,
Who have hugged Danger in wars,
Will turn to those who would be free
Ashamed of such base company:
"And that slaughter to the nation
Shall steam up like inspiration,
A volcano heard afar:
"And these words shall then become
Like Oppressions thundered doom,
Ringing through each heart and brain,
Rise like lions after slumber
In unvanquishable NUMBER!
Shake your chains to earth, like dew
Which in sleep had fall'n on you:
YE ARE MANY-THEY ARE FEW.