In Algeria today, even the most basic
aspirations are no more than dreams. Working, travelling, planning for the future,
making a home—even the simple things of life are beyond the reach of young people
whose world has been mangled by violence. And yet they refuse to abandon their dreams
and this impels many of them to leave the country, even if it means becoming illegal
immigrants in Europe.
Like everyone else, young people suffer from the political violence and from insecurity.
Many now cannot even study—hundreds of schools have closed in the worst affected
areas such as Blida, Medea and Chlef. Social violence is also soaring. The government
is in many ways ineffective and daily life has become so difficult that parents can
no longer minister to their children’s needs. Some 300,000 young people come onto
the job market every year in a country where there are already more than two million
unemployed. The middle class is shrinking, the poor are getting poorer and the rich
are getting richer. The streets of the capital teem with young children selling newspapers
or cleaning car windows—scenes which would have been inconceivable a few years ago.
If they can’t live normal lives, young Algerians can at least dream about easing
their frustrations through freedom of expression. The curfew has been lifted in Algiers,
but the state of emergency is still in force and public gatherings are banned. Tickets
for the few concerts staged these days are expensive. A black-market ticket costs
800 dinars*
when the minimum wage is about 5,000 dinars, and only about one young person in twenty
can afford to go. Cinemas are closing. Film clubs have disappeared. Young people
don’t bother with youth and cultural centres any more because they are suspicious
of anything to do with the authorities and because the courses on offer cost money.
The government pleads security reasons for restricting the activities of civil society.
But preventing young people from expressing themselves peacefully can only push them
towards violent forms of self-expression or even to extremism.
They dream of escaping a “sick life” which weighs even more heavily on girls than
boys. In big towns, coeducation has survived the recent years of troubles fairly
well. But everything is harder for girls. It’s hard for them to go out in an evening
with boys, unless they belong to a very restricted social circle. As a result of
a profoundly sexist education system, it’s hard for them to learn anything at youth
centres except sewing or embroidery, whereas boys can study computer science. And
it’s hard to escape the conservatism of most Algerian families, who keep a tight
rein on the lives of their daughters.
Young people dream of peace. They feel alienated by the violence that confronts them.
Talk to them about peace and their enthusiasm is immediately aroused. Young musicians
have written some amazing songs about peace. Others express themselves through theatre
or painting. In the Youth Action Movement, by teaching them to help one another and
show solidarity, we have managed to get teenagers to work together, to overcome their
differences and break down the invisible wall that education and traditions have
built between boys and girls. All that needs to be done is to bring them together
and involve them in a common project. For many young people feel frustrated that
there is nothing they can do to bring about change.
They dream of peace, but like the rest of the population they are caught between
the violence of Islamist extremists and that of the government. In Algeria, sadly,
difference is synonymous with intolerance. Hatred between the sexes, between different
ways of looking at things, between regions, between Arabs and Berbers has been boiling
for decades, turning Algeria’s magnificent diversity into an endless source of conflict.
Algerians have barely had time to develop democratic practices.
Without jobs, without being able to envisage a better life and without hope, young
people lounge idly in the streets—“hugging the walls,” as Algerians put it, nicknaming
them “hittists” (from the Arabic word hit, meaning “wall”). The young dream, but
their dreams turn into nightmares because their elders either do not know how or
do not want to talk to them. |
* 1
Agerian dinar = $0.017
in August 1998 |
It isn’t easy to be
young in Algeria, a country where five years of violence have claimed nearly 100,000
lives and economic upheavals are having drastic social consequences. In spite of
everything, today’s young Algerians refuse to abandon their hopes and dreams
If they can’t live normal lives,
young Algerians can at least
dream of expressing
themselves freely
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Dalila the militant
Thirty-two-year-old Dalila Taleb already has a long career of political
activism behind her. The October 1988 riots in Algiers, in which more than 500 young
people died, filled her with passion to defend her country’s youth, tragically left
to fend for itself. In 1993, with a group of friends, she founded the Youth Action
Movement (RAJ) which was an overnight success. Dalila, its president, quickly became
one the most popular figures among the youth in the poorer sections of the capital.
The RAJ’s members range from girls wearing the veil to pop music fans, from Islamist
supporters to modernizers. And the movement works, despite the constraints and problems
confronting voluntary organizations in Algeria. Without losing touch with the grassroots,
Dalila went into politics and in the 1997 parliamentary elections became an opposition
FFS (Front of Socialist Groups) member of the National People’s Assembly representing
her home town of Bejaia. In the Assembly, where she is a member of the youth, sports
and voluntary work commission, she has made a name for herself as an orator who speaks
out against all kinds of violence and arbitrary behaviour— whoever its perpetrators
may be.
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