Academic, diplomat, writer, journalist… Mohamed Aziza, aged 84, has just published his memoirs, *Derrière le miroir* (Éditions Maison du Livre, Tunisia). This citizen of the world, who proudly maintains his roots in his native country, lifts the veil on little-known aspects of his life.
You hesitated for a long time before writing your memoirs. Are you satisfied with the work you’ve done, and how do you decide what to include?
Unless one has an ego comparable to that of a high-flying estate agent or a television entertainer taken seriously by a spellbound audience, no writer or creator worthy of the name can be entirely satisfied with their work once it is complete.
I believe I am no exception to this rule and, of course, the fear of rereading my own work haunts me, just as it grips any craftsman examining his finished work.
This fear is compounded by the fact that embarking on this project felt to me like taking a leap into the unknown, a journey into uncharted territory. To date, under my own name, I have undertaken academic research into various aspects of Arab-Muslim and African cultures, published exchanges with intellectuals, and contributed to numerous scholarly and journalistic investigations on a range of topics.
Under my pen name, Shams Nadir, I have written a trilogy of novels and published several collections of poetry. But this is the first time I have embarked on an attempt to recount a personal memory.
After much hesitation, I set out on this risky venture because, as the saying goes, ‘ life is like riding a bicycle. You must keep moving forward to stay balanced ’. The same applies to writing. To keep your hand in and avoid the risk of your pen rusting or your computer breaking down, it is better to keep going, even if the going is tough.
‘ It is better to follow the right path limping than the wrong one with a firm step ’, as a master of confessions, our distant compatriot Saint Augustine, advised.
Of course, retracing the course of a life inevitably leaves vast black holes in the sky of memory, and one often forgets certain details and characters who nevertheless played a part in one’s journey. As for judging the outcome of such a bold endeavour, I prefer to let the reader decide on the relevance of my choices rather than judge them myself.
From your homeland, Tunisia, to your life as an intellectual based in Paris yet living beyond borders, your career path has been multifaceted: academic, writer, poet, journalist, event organiser… How did all this come about?
To this diversity of activities, one should add another: that of a diplomat. For some thirty years, I was a member of the executive board of a regional organisation, the Organisation of African Unity, in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and subsequently of an international organisation, UNESCO, in Paris.
But beneath this diversity lies a unifying thread: my commitment to a humanism without borders, to the fight against racism and fanaticism, to the defence of nature and humanity against the various threats they face, and to unwavering solidarity with the ‘ wretched of the earth ’, as Frantz Fanon called them, and an active empathy with the Other, for, as Dr Albert Schweitzer said, ‘love is the only thing that doubles when shared ’.
In fact, my late wife, who throughout our life together was my partner in my endeavours and my inspiration in my works, remarkably summarised the dual nature of my undertakings in the essay she contributed to the Mélanges presented to me by Othman Ben Taleb and Giovanni Dotoli, entitling it The Pen and the Trowel: The Writer-Builder .
The painter Sam Azulys, who kindly created the cover illustration for Derrière le miroir , has succeeded in visually capturing—through this silhouette reflected in a row of mirrors—not only the variety of his achievements but also the complexity of the man who wrote the Mémoires . For it is true that, as Rimbaud would say, “ I is another ”, and that no human being can be reduced to a single dimension or a single characteristic.
At the entrance to an exhibition in Paris.
You chose to write your Memoirs primarily for a Tunisian audience, but not exclusively. Why, and what is your relationship with Tunisia, which served as the nurturing ground for who you are today?
It is quite true that my book is aimed first and foremost at Tunisian readers. That is why I was keen to have it published by a Tunisian publisher, and I would like to thank Habib Zoghbi and his team for sharing in this adventure, sponsored by my friends Ahmed Ounaies, who wrote the foreword, and Abdelaziz Kacem, who wrote the afterword.
These two contributors were not chosen at random because, quite apart from the high regard in which I hold them, they each represent the two vocations that have shaped my career path: diplomacy and creativity.
Despite the reservations I harbour about this sort of exercise, which is often self-promotional, my decision to write these memoirs and to set aside my natural discretion was driven by several factors.
Firstly, advancing age – the hourglass of time being unstoppable – and death, the only ‘exam’ that no one has ever failed. Secondly, the desire to pass on a life experience that has strayed from the beaten track and quiet careers conforming to pre-established models.
There was also a desire to contribute to the building of a collective memory which, as Hampâté Bâ believed, is impoverished with every passing of a ‘ sachant ’. “ In Africa, when an old man dies, it is as though a library is burning down ”.
Finally, it was my duty to remember my dead, to maintain the thread of connection with the living, and to give thanks to this land where I was born and raised, and to this people who gave me so much.
That said, not everything was rosy. The thorns of jealousy and the gag of summonses sometimes forced me, for trivial reasons, into a self-imposed exile. The cult of personality, the rise of intolerance and populism, and the suppression of debate – which, through the fault of those in power, replaced the hopes raised by national liberation – drove me away for good from party politics and power games.
That is why; in order to preserve my freedom of thought, I have never joined a political party, even one opposing a hegemonic or dominant power.
After the welcome uprising of 2011, I was disappointed to see the Constituent Assembly opt for a semi-presidential system of government.
In emerging countries such as ours, where the imperative of unanimity has taken hold — a condition which, it seems, is essential for the building of national unity —, the very term and concept of ‘semi-presidentialism’ are an optical illusion, a dangerous mirage, a mere ornament that is swallowed whole by the ogre of presidentialism—preferably for life. Examples of extended presidential terms in emerging nations are legion.
On this point of constitutional law, I have had differing exchanges with former colleagues and friends who, like me, were trained by eminent professors such as Vedel and Duverger at the Paris Faculty of Law.
In my view, the model best suited to emerging countries is, provided there are robust non-partisan institutions such as a Constitutional Council, parliamentary democracy, where a president acts as the representative of the entire nation, serving as an arbiter and mediator within it, whilst the Prime Minister governs on behalf of his party or the coalition he has succeeded in forming, where necessary, and is accountable to the nation’s elected representatives.
This is a model practised by countries in southern Europe, despite their differing political structures: the constitutional monarchy in Spain and parliamentary government in Italy.
Admittedly, for either form of political organisation to function satisfactorily, it would be necessary to establish peaceful, effective and equitable governance through a suitable electoral system that guarantees the accuracy of election results, and particularly the rights of minorities.
We are far from having found the right solution that could help us ensure the economic and social development of our countries, to try to withstand the onslaught of a globalisation driven by predatory capitalism, and to prevent them from being reduced to what are termed ‘ failed states ’, as the economist Yahia Ouled Amar analyses with lucidity and courage.
Which figures have had the greatest influence on you throughout your career? The former Senegalese President Sédar Senghor seems to have held a special place in your heart…
Certainly, President Senghor is the figure who has had the greatest influence on my career. I described at length, in an article published by La Revue of the Jeune Afrique group (no. 22, May 2012), the rather unusual circumstances surrounding my meeting in Dakar in 1966 with the poet-president, during the Festival of Black Arts which he had just organised in collaboration with André Malraux and the journal Présence Africaine .
Thanks to a ‘mouchard’ (a device that allowed remote listening), he was able to follow, from a distance, the speech I delivered on behalf of the Tunisian delegation at the National Assembly, where the international symposium organised for the occasion was being held. He summoned me to the presidential palace, from where he had been using the ‘mouchard’ to follow the proceedings of the symposium.
And it was in his office, after a long conversation with him, that he addressed these unforgettable words to me, pointing to the listening device that sat prominently on his desk: “ Mr Aziza, this is the first time in history that a listening device has brought two poets together .”
A friendship ensued that his passing, on 20 December 2001, could not extinguish.
When Stock Publishers offered to publish a book-length interview about his life’s journey, he accepted, on the condition that I be his interviewer. Later, he wrote the forewords to two of my books: Le Chant profond des Arts de l’Afrique and L’Astrolabe de la mer .
This almost fatherly care with which he honoured me prompted him, in 1981, to put forward my candidacy for the post of Secretary-General of the Agency for Cultural and Technical Co-operation (ACCT), which was to become the present-day International Organisation of La Francophonie (OIF).
The ACCT conference was due to be held in December 1981 in Libreville, the capital of Gabon, whose Head of State at the time, Omar Bongo, wished to put forward his minister, François Owono-Nguema, as a candidate for the same post.
Senghor asked Bongo not to put forward his candidate against me. Bongo agreed, albeit probably reluctantly.
There remained just one simple formality to be completed: approval by means of a simple letter from the Tunisian government, of which I was a national. President Senghor had forgotten to inform Bourguiba of his decision regarding my candidacy. In the absence of presidential instructions, the Tunisian government put forward a senior civil servant in my place. Bongo reversed his decision, and it was the Gabonese minister who was elected. This unexpected turn of events distanced me a little further from the murky and unhealthy world of political manoeuvring.
In addition to the constant attention, he paid to the development of my work and my career, Senghor rekindled my interest in reflecting on the politics of art. Indeed, in 1976, Senghor challenged the dogma of the single-party system and launched a process aimed at establishing a multi-party system – albeit one limited, it is true, to three parties.
When I expressed my surprise at this limitation, Senghor explained to me that, having observed the behaviour of living organisms – both human and animal – he had noted that three fundamental attitudes emerged: to preserve, to reform, and to deconstruct. This corresponded, within the parliamentary system, to three political currents: the conservative right, the reformist centre, and the revolutionary left.
Later, within each of these three currents, nuances and tendencies might emerge and expand upon the initial tripartite structure of the organisation.
Senghor meticulously prepared for his succession, as he was determined to set the finest example of wise governance for his continent: to step down before the official end of his term of office, without being compelled to do so. This magnanimous gesture aroused surprise and often indignation amongst the ‘ monarchs ’ disguised as republican presidents, but it would leave a lasting mark on the collective memory of the people.
Admittedly, Senghor was the person who most influenced my journey. But he was not the only one. Both within the cultural heritage of times gone by and through the enriching encounters I have had throughout my life, I have been shaped by many connections and influences. The list would be too long to set out in full, although I have attempted to mention the main ones in my Memoirs, whilst apologising to those whom I may have omitted.
With Léopold Sédar-Senghor.
The OAU (the former name of the AU), UNESCO… these institutions played a major part in opening you up to the world. Yet today they are in a deep crisis, precisely because of the crisis in multilateralism. To what do you attribute this situation?
As you know, the balance in international relations is unstable. From antiquity to the present day, history has been characterised by a succession of uninterrupted geostrategic upheavals.
In the Mediterranean, the supremacy of one power has constantly been supplanted by the imperium of another. Entire regions have experienced these upheavals, before colonial expeditions shifted the centre of the world from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic.
Today, we are witnessing the rise of the Pacific region, to the detriment of Europe.
This spatial shift in power is now being followed by a temporal shift that appears intent on doing away with the regulatory achievements of the post-war period and replacing the rule of law with the law of force.
Consider the proliferation of wars, whether high- or low-intensity, which are ravaging many countries across different parts of the globe.
Undeniably, following the fall of the Berlin Wall, hopes for a pacification of international relations have been dashed. The antagonistic blocs of the past – the West versus the Soviet Union – have given way to new divisions: the North versus the ‘Global South’.
Furthermore, climate crises, the mounting threats of all kinds hanging over our heads, the lack of guaranteed control over new technologies and artificial intelligence, the asymmetry in levels of development, the rise in violence and illicit trafficking, the financialisation of economies, etc., do little to reassure us about a return to the solidarity-based multilateralism that I knew and valued whilst working for the regional and international organisations I had the honour of serving.
These immense challenges are, alas, evident both in international organisations and at the regional level. Consider the divide separating the nations of the Maghreb, which, despite sharing the same history, are pursuing divergent objectives rather than coming together to attempt, through cohesion and solidarity, to meet the challenges of a globalisation tempted by domination.
Having been one of the few citizens from a country in this region to have lived and worked in the three core countries of this Union, I am particularly sensitive to this crisis, and I very much hope to see it overcome as soon as possible.
Mohamed Aziza and Hichem Ben Yaïche.
You have been involved for years in initiatives focused on the Mediterranean. Yet, despite the immense wealth of this region, EuroMed is virtually at a standstill. Who is to blame? How do you explain this waste?
From the pre-Socratic philosophers to Fernand Braudel, the Mediterranean’s intellectual heritage has always held a great fascination for me. It is with equal passion that I have immersed myself in the works of those who have taken an interest in it or drawn inspiration from it: the Tunisian thinkers Fathi Triki and Zouhair Ben Amor, the French writers Paul Valéry and Albert Camus, the Italian Vincenzo Consolo, and figures from distant regions, such as the Belgian Marguerite Yourcenar or the German Friedrich Nietzsche.
And, like Thierry Fabre, founder of the Rencontres Averroès in Marseille, and Hubert Nyssen, founder of Actes Sud publishers, I have complemented this intellectual approach with concrete initiatives: the Euro-Arab Travelling University, the Mediterranean Observatory and the MED 21 Programme.
You are right to diagnose the ‘brain death’ of Euro-Med, to borrow a phrase applied to a more Atlanticist institution.
But it may be worth qualifying this judgement by examining, in greater detail, the heterogeneous situation of a region that is divided in geostrategic terms.
Indeed, the conditions prevailing in this regard in the western Mediterranean have little in common with those tearing apart its eastern region.
The 5+5 Dialogue initiative, launched in Rome on 10 October 1990, aims to bring together the five countries on the northern shore of the western Mediterranean – Portugal, Spain, France, Italy and Malta – with the five countries making up the Arab Maghreb Union on the southern shore.
Admittedly, this regional grouping does not eliminate the asymmetry that continues to exist between the partners, particularly as there is no Secretariat to oversee the coordination and implementation of the resolutions adopted by the summits of the participating parties. However, this sub-regional grouping has the advantage of maintaining dialogue amongst its member countries and, in the absence of an equal partnership or fully solidarity-based cooperation, of ensuring the conditions for peaceful coexistence.
From the civil war in Lebanon to the Greek-Turkish antagonism, via the Balkanisation of Yugoslavia and, above all, the tragedy in Gaza which fuels and exacerbates the age-old Israeli Arab conflict, the eastern Mediterranean region is constantly having to tend to its wounds, bury its dead and care for its injured.
That said, the Mediterranean is suffering the repercussions of the tensions that are ravaging the world and upsetting its balance, despite the mediation efforts being made by certain leaders.
But on this subject, some nuances must also be introduced. The position of a country such as Spain stands in stark contrast to that of other nations plagued by the rise of populism and the far right, whose widespread hatred of the Other is rightly denounced by Giuliano da Empoli as the work of the ‘ engineers of chaos ’.
On the other hand, the brutality of some, the cynicism of others and the duplicity of the rest cannot obscure the admirable example of solidarity and the efforts made by civil societies to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, welcome migrants, tend to the wounded and spread knowledge – all to replace the walls of intolerance with bridges of fraternal welcome.
Tensions, crises, conflicts, war… what do you fear most in these times of extreme strain? We are a long way from the ‘civilisation of humanism’ that Edgar Morin so fervently hoped for…
Admittedly, the state of the world is far from reassuring. You are quite right to highlight the worrying proliferation of conflicts and wars, which, incidentally, receive unequal coverage in the media.
But does this crisis – which goes beyond mere circumstances and strikes at the very foundations of our world’s habitability – signal the end of the ‘ civilisation of humanism ’ that Edgar Morin so fervently hoped for? I do not believe so.
That is why I concluded a tribute I wrote in memory of this great man, following his state funeral, with this admirable quote from Saint-Exupéry, which I am happy to adopt as my motto and as the conclusion to our interview:
“ It is better for our dreams to devour our lives than to let our lives devour our dreams .”
Watch the interview in full, Mohamed Aziza to Hichem Ben Yaïche in June 2024 here.
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