In 2011, the world watched in awe as Tunisians toppled a dictator with nothing but their voices and a demand for “Dignity.” For a decade, Tunisia was the outlier—the one place where the Arab Spring didn’t end in a bloodbath or a return to the status quo. It was the “beacon.” But as we enter January 2026, that beacon hasn’t just dimmed; it has been systematically dismantled.
President Kaïs Saïed has just extended the nationwide state of emergency yet again. What was once a temporary response to a 2015 terror attack has morphed into a permanent mode of governance. This isn’t about security anymore. It’s about a “New Republic” where the exception is the rule, and the rule is whatever the President says it is.
The Architecture of a Judicial Farce
Imagine living in a country where a 48-year-old decree, originally written to crush 1970s labor strikes, is the highest law of the land. Under this state of emergency, the government can ban protests, censor the press, and search homes without a warrant—all with zero judicial oversight.
Before he took power, Kaïs Saïed, a constitutional law professor, publicly called these emergency powers unconstitutional. Today, he has turned the justice system into a weapon, transforming courts into stages for a political purge.
The irony is thick enough to choke on. Before he took power, Kaïs Saïed, a constitutional law professor, publicly called these emergency powers unconstitutional. Today, he wields them like a scalpel to excise any voice that doesn’t harmonize with his own. He has turned the justice system into a weapon, transforming courts into stages for a political purge.
The “Conspiracy Case” of late 2025 sent a chilling message across the Mediterranean. Nearly 40 people—politicians, lawyers, and activists—were handed sentences that sound like death penalties by another name. Rached Ghannouchi, the 84-year-old leader of the Ennahda party, was sentenced to a cumulative 42 years in prison. Think about that: an 84-year-old man being told he will spend the next four decades in a cell. This isn’t justice; it’s a hostage situation.
The Digital Panopticon
It isn’t just the high-profile leaders who are at risk. If you’re a journalist in Tunis or even just a citizen with a Facebook account, you’re living under the shadow of Decree 54. This “cybercrime” law has turned the internet into a minefield. Post a “rumor” that the government doesn’t like? Five years in prison. Offend the “dignity” of the President? That’s a knock on the door from the secret police.
Dozens of journalists and commentators have already been dragged through the courts for the crime of doing their jobs. The goal is clear: total silence. By criminalizing “fake news”—defined exclusively by the state—the regime has created a digital panopticon where every WhatsApp message could be a ticket to a remote hearing and a decade-long sentence.
Sovereignty or Solvency?
While the political class is being hollowed out, the average Tunisian is waiting in line for bread. Saïed’s brand of “hyper-nationalism” has come at a staggering cost. By rejecting the IMF and telling the world that Tunisia “counts on itself,” the President has steered the country into an economic low-growth trap.
Public debt is now over 80 percent of GDP. Basic goods—sugar, flour, coffee, rice—disappear from shelves for weeks at a time because the state-owned companies are too broke to pay for imports. The government’s solution? Print more money and blame “speculators” and “traitors” for the hunger. It’s a classic authoritarian pivot: when you can’t provide bread, provide enemies.
The West’s Transactional Silence
Perhaps the most bitter pill for Tunisians to swallow is the silence from the outside world. The European Union, once the vocal champion of Tunisia’s transition, has essentially entered into a business deal with the autocracy. The “Memorandum of Understanding” signed with Brussels is simple: Europe pays the bills, and Tunisia stops the migrant boats.
As long as the boats stay away, the EU seems perfectly happy to look the other way while Saïed purges judges and jails lawyers. By treating Tunisia as a “safe country of origin” for deportations while ignoring the 45-year prison sentences being handed out to dissidents, the West is effectively financing the end of the very democracy it once praised.
The Coming Storm
January 2026 is a powder keg. It marks the 15th anniversary of the revolution, a date that usually brings thousands into the streets of Tunis. This year, the powerful UGTT labor union has called for a general strike to protest the economic freefall.
Tunisia is a cautionary tale of how quickly a democracy can be eaten from the inside out when institutions are traded for the “will of the people” as interpreted by one man.
By extending the state of emergency through the end of January, Saïed has already laid the legal groundwork to crush this movement. He can ban the marches, arrest the organizers, and militarize the response—all “legally.”
Tunisia is no longer the Arab Spring’s success story. It is a cautionary tale of how quickly a democracy can be eaten from the inside out when institutions are traded for the “will of the people” as interpreted by one man. The world might be looking away, but for the Tunisians still brave enough to march, the dream of 2011 is being buried under the weight of a permanent emergency. The question is no longer when the transition will end—it’s whether anything of the republic will be left to save.
Published originally under the title “Permanent Emergency: How the Arab Spring’s Success Story Is a Kingdom of Fear.”
