The “Art” of Humiliating Algerians
Four hundred fifty thousand dollars was all that Algeria spent in 2009 in the political capital of the world, Washington, in the lobbying work. An insignificant sum that informs us of the weaknesses and limits of Algeria’s foreign policy.
During the same period, Morocco, Libya, and Egypt released double and sometimes triple that behind the scenes of the American Congress and pressure groups.
The $450,000, spent at a time when the country is experiencing an exceptional financial amelioration, explains the rationale behind many events about which politicians and Algerian citizens labor, tirelessly, in search of answers.
The information is “top secret” in Algeria, yet is public in the United States. Yet, Algerian power is greater when it comes to other expenditures. It becomes paradoxically more miserly when it comes to working on the brand-image of the country. Of the $450,000, only $30,000 was allocated toward raising awareness about economic and political reforms, as well as the process of national reconciliation started by the country. A logistical trouble lost. The classification of Algeria on a black list, consisting of countries that constituted a threat to global security, was the latest tangible evidence. Algeria protested. Threatened to resort to the principle of reciprocity. But what did we do to prevent the worst? And to spare Algerian travelers from an umpteenth humiliation on American soil?
American officials, whom we had the opportunity to meet in Washington, regretted the inscription of Algeria, a “strategic ally of Americans,” on the “black list.” As strange as that may appear, they said to ignore the reason behind the choice. “I think that the United States acted hurriedly. They didn’t develop their approach well,” confided a diplomatic source current with the dossier. A critical issue loomed on the horizon: “This list isn’t fixed. It will probably undergo revisions. From that perspective, Algeria could eventually be struck from the black list, because in the United States we are aware of the sacrifices made by your country during the fight against terrorism. The number one enemy of Americans.” But for many Algerians, the harm is already done.
New York, March 10. The bus that transports a group of Arab journalists, including three Algerians (L’Expression, El Watan, La Tribune), arrives at the John Fitzgerald Kennedy airport. While our fellows pursued their discussions on American policy in the Near East, one question gnawed at the Algerian special envoys in Uncle Sam’s country.
Would we be subjected to the full-body scan? Logic dictated that we should submit to this extraordinary measure. Experience tempted us. But deep inside, each understood a discharge or exception. We were journalists. We were part of a body that suffered martyrdom during a national tragedy. Forcing us to suffer this humiliating test would be “an injustice.” A wish almost fulfilled. I crossed the security barrier of the American airport without a single problem. This wasn’t the case for my fellows from El Watan and La Tribune who were subjected to detailed procedures. Because they were Algerian. They were put in quarantine in a chamber place a stone’s throw away from the security checkpoint. The agent poured powder on their clothing (jacket and pants) to detect any chemical product or explosive.
The body search of the journalists permitted the agent to salvage pens and a journal confined in their pockets. An alibi that was evidently insufficient to carry the accusation of belonging to a terrorist group and send the two young men to prison.
On our airline tickets, we noticed the imposing green seal of the TSA (Transportation Security Administration). A seal that we didn’t find as prominent on the tickets of our fellow Arabs. We took our slight in stride. And from this lesson, we hoped to take away only the positive side. After all, we were adventurers. Just one clarification: We didn’t pass through the body scans for any evident reason. The airport wasn’t equipped with the materials we could find in the Tampa airport in Florida. We directed ourselves towards the security checkpoint with the same apprehensions.
The security agent (a woman) didn’t even need to re-examine the list of at-risk countries. She invited holders of Algerian passports to remove their shoes, jackets, belts, watches and change that we kept in our pants pockets. Direction, the body scanner. The stares of other travelers were heavy with accusation. Legs apart, hands lifted, smiling, we were scanned! Our baggage was scrupulously searched. The agent ordered us not to make the tiniest movement, not even hand gesture at the document checkpoint. A fellow journalist took his courage by both hands and asked about the reasons for this search. The response was brief and stinging: “You are on a black list. We are applying the law.” All this was done in front of the stares of our Tunisian, Mauritanian, Palestinian, Jordanian, Egyptian and Libyan compatriots who were hardly worried. At that moment, the same question returned with persistence. What had we done to merit this humiliation? Why us and not the others? In the United States, those who know the geographic location of Algeria are rare. A country with whom they played in the first round of the World Cup scheduled in South Africa. Often, they confuse Algeria and Nigeria. And those who, by chance, retain the name of the country, engage us in conversations strictly concerning security. Of Algeria, they retain nothing but terrorist attacks, barbarous massacres committed during a national tragedy against civilians. John is a taxi driver. He is an American of African origin. When we announce our nationality, he confronts us, accusing us of having killed his Sudanese cousin, who worked in Algeria on an account for a foreign company. “You slit my cousin’s throat. You’re all terrorists,” he hurled. At any given moment, we seriously considered that it would be preferable to keep to oneself one’s nationality. It would avoid being constantly on the defensive. The Algerian press is remarkably present. Photos of Algerian journalists assassinated by terrorists figure prominently on the board. An incomplete list. Numerous others aren’t included. Facing it, a geographic map of the world. Algeria is painted in red. It signifies that the liberty of the press is severely restrained. Egypt is in yellow. For my fellow journalists, “privileged relationships between the two countries influenced the creators of the map.”
Ms. Katherine Harris, former Republican Congresswoman, swears, embarrassed, that she ignores all of Algeria. By contrast, she is more at ease when the Tunisian journalists shout out questions. With remarkable ease, she cites different Tunisian cities; she speaks of customs, of tourist sites. She had been invited there several times. Same for Morocco. Ihab, the translator who knew the country well, told us of the passivity of Algerians: “You have everything that it takes to become the number one destination for tourists. Nature spoiled you. Your cultural diversity is remarkable. Your cuisine is rich. But you do nothing to sell the image of your country.” In the United States, couscous is a Moroccan brand and Deglet Nour is “made in Tunisia.” That, at least, is what an American diplomat in Tampa thinks: “I discovered Moroccan couscous at a reception organized by the Sharif Kingdom in the USA. The King sent his chef for the occasion,” revealed the diplomat. We let him know that our couscous was the best. We even went out of our way to explain in front of our Tunisian colleagues that our neighbors to the east “stole” our dates and exported them abroad. What were our diplomatic representatives abroad doing? We never stopped posing this question since our American sojourn.
Several times, we heard the following commentary. “The Algerians who live in the USA are poorly organized,” compared to other Arab communities. They apply the principal of “Henini Enhanik” (leave me alone), to reuse the terms of Aymen, 24 years old, a university student, originally from Skikda. He’s been in New York for two years and doesn’t expect to return home for another three. “When I arrived in the USA, I tried to get close with other Algerians who had been here for several years. Honestly, the reaction of many of them left me disappointed.” Karim is working on his Ph.D. in Political Science. To finance his studies, he didn’t hesitate a second to work in a hotel. “I regret nothing. This country opened new horizons that I wouldn’t have in my country.” Karim tires of the lobbying exerted by the Libyans and Moroccans on Arab media or directed at Arab countries. “I was on the point of being recruited into one of the public affairs sections. But twice, lobbying tried with all its might to oust me from my course,” he testified. According to him, it’s time to start seriously considering organizing to tear out a place in society that doesn’t forgive weaknesses and failure.
During the same period, Morocco, Libya, and Egypt released double and sometimes triple that behind the scenes of the American Congress and pressure groups.
The $450,000, spent at a time when the country is experiencing an exceptional financial amelioration, explains the rationale behind many events about which politicians and Algerian citizens labor, tirelessly, in search of answers.
The information is “top secret” in Algeria, yet is public in the United States. Yet, Algerian power is greater when it comes to other expenditures. It becomes paradoxically more miserly when it comes to working on the brand-image of the country. Of the $450,000, only $30,000 was allocated toward raising awareness about economic and political reforms, as well as the process of national reconciliation started by the country. A logistical trouble lost. The classification of Algeria on a black list, consisting of countries that constituted a threat to global security, was the latest tangible evidence. Algeria protested. Threatened to resort to the principle of reciprocity. But what did we do to prevent the worst? And to spare Algerian travelers from an umpteenth humiliation on American soil?
American officials, whom we had the opportunity to meet in Washington, regretted the inscription of Algeria, a “strategic ally of Americans,” on the “black list.” As strange as that may appear, they said to ignore the reason behind the choice. “I think that the United States acted hurriedly. They didn’t develop their approach well,” confided a diplomatic source current with the dossier. A critical issue loomed on the horizon: “This list isn’t fixed. It will probably undergo revisions. From that perspective, Algeria could eventually be struck from the black list, because in the United States we are aware of the sacrifices made by your country during the fight against terrorism. The number one enemy of Americans.” But for many Algerians, the harm is already done.
New York, March 10. The bus that transports a group of Arab journalists, including three Algerians (L’Expression, El Watan, La Tribune), arrives at the John Fitzgerald Kennedy airport. While our fellows pursued their discussions on American policy in the Near East, one question gnawed at the Algerian special envoys in Uncle Sam’s country.
Would we be subjected to the full-body scan? Logic dictated that we should submit to this extraordinary measure. Experience tempted us. But deep inside, each understood a discharge or exception. We were journalists. We were part of a body that suffered martyrdom during a national tragedy. Forcing us to suffer this humiliating test would be “an injustice.” A wish almost fulfilled. I crossed the security barrier of the American airport without a single problem. This wasn’t the case for my fellows from El Watan and La Tribune who were subjected to detailed procedures. Because they were Algerian. They were put in quarantine in a chamber place a stone’s throw away from the security checkpoint. The agent poured powder on their clothing (jacket and pants) to detect any chemical product or explosive.
The body search of the journalists permitted the agent to salvage pens and a journal confined in their pockets. An alibi that was evidently insufficient to carry the accusation of belonging to a terrorist group and send the two young men to prison.
On our airline tickets, we noticed the imposing green seal of the TSA (Transportation Security Administration). A seal that we didn’t find as prominent on the tickets of our fellow Arabs. We took our slight in stride. And from this lesson, we hoped to take away only the positive side. After all, we were adventurers. Just one clarification: We didn’t pass through the body scans for any evident reason. The airport wasn’t equipped with the materials we could find in the Tampa airport in Florida. We directed ourselves towards the security checkpoint with the same apprehensions.
The security agent (a woman) didn’t even need to re-examine the list of at-risk countries. She invited holders of Algerian passports to remove their shoes, jackets, belts, watches and change that we kept in our pants pockets. Direction, the body scanner. The stares of other travelers were heavy with accusation. Legs apart, hands lifted, smiling, we were scanned! Our baggage was scrupulously searched. The agent ordered us not to make the tiniest movement, not even hand gesture at the document checkpoint. A fellow journalist took his courage by both hands and asked about the reasons for this search. The response was brief and stinging: “You are on a black list. We are applying the law.” All this was done in front of the stares of our Tunisian, Mauritanian, Palestinian, Jordanian, Egyptian and Libyan compatriots who were hardly worried. At that moment, the same question returned with persistence. What had we done to merit this humiliation? Why us and not the others? In the United States, those who know the geographic location of Algeria are rare. A country with whom they played in the first round of the World Cup scheduled in South Africa. Often, they confuse Algeria and Nigeria. And those who, by chance, retain the name of the country, engage us in conversations strictly concerning security. Of Algeria, they retain nothing but terrorist attacks, barbarous massacres committed during a national tragedy against civilians. John is a taxi driver. He is an American of African origin. When we announce our nationality, he confronts us, accusing us of having killed his Sudanese cousin, who worked in Algeria on an account for a foreign company. “You slit my cousin’s throat. You’re all terrorists,” he hurled. At any given moment, we seriously considered that it would be preferable to keep to oneself one’s nationality. It would avoid being constantly on the defensive. The Algerian press is remarkably present. Photos of Algerian journalists assassinated by terrorists figure prominently on the board. An incomplete list. Numerous others aren’t included. Facing it, a geographic map of the world. Algeria is painted in red. It signifies that the liberty of the press is severely restrained. Egypt is in yellow. For my fellow journalists, “privileged relationships between the two countries influenced the creators of the map.”
Ms. Katherine Harris, former Republican Congresswoman, swears, embarrassed, that she ignores all of Algeria. By contrast, she is more at ease when the Tunisian journalists shout out questions. With remarkable ease, she cites different Tunisian cities; she speaks of customs, of tourist sites. She had been invited there several times. Same for Morocco. Ihab, the translator who knew the country well, told us of the passivity of Algerians: “You have everything that it takes to become the number one destination for tourists. Nature spoiled you. Your cultural diversity is remarkable. Your cuisine is rich. But you do nothing to sell the image of your country.” In the United States, couscous is a Moroccan brand and Deglet Nour is “made in Tunisia.” That, at least, is what an American diplomat in Tampa thinks: “I discovered Moroccan couscous at a reception organized by the Sharif Kingdom in the USA. The King sent his chef for the occasion,” revealed the diplomat. We let him know that our couscous was the best. We even went out of our way to explain in front of our Tunisian colleagues that our neighbors to the east “stole” our dates and exported them abroad. What were our diplomatic representatives abroad doing? We never stopped posing this question since our American sojourn.
Several times, we heard the following commentary. “The Algerians who live in the USA are poorly organized,” compared to other Arab communities. They apply the principal of “Henini Enhanik” (leave me alone), to reuse the terms of Aymen, 24 years old, a university student, originally from Skikda. He’s been in New York for two years and doesn’t expect to return home for another three. “When I arrived in the USA, I tried to get close with other Algerians who had been here for several years. Honestly, the reaction of many of them left me disappointed.” Karim is working on his Ph.D. in Political Science. To finance his studies, he didn’t hesitate a second to work in a hotel. “I regret nothing. This country opened new horizons that I wouldn’t have in my country.” Karim tires of the lobbying exerted by the Libyans and Moroccans on Arab media or directed at Arab countries. “I was on the point of being recruited into one of the public affairs sections. But twice, lobbying tried with all its might to oust me from my course,” he testified. According to him, it’s time to start seriously considering organizing to tear out a place in society that doesn’t forgive weaknesses and failure.
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