He never believed that…; he never imagined; he never visualized; the thought never occurred to him; he was never haunted by nightmares. The days went by calmly, and the reports slept peacefully in drawers. A ruler comes to stay, and the constitution becomes addicted to bending. Not a finger was raised. Only time was resisting and attacking. The ruler does not leave his palace unless it is for his tomb. He only comes out to enter history, wrapped in his country's flag. The reports lied; they didn't say that the people are treacherous. Who deceived the president? Who deceives the president? News bulletins started with his smiles, and TV stations assured that the people were happy. Tourists came and went, with official circles boasting about their numbers. Statistics about development efforts and the reduction of illiteracy were published, and about the island of stability in the troubled sea. The intelligence services director used to say that security is under control and guaranteed. The general security director played a similar tune. The salutations of the generals were rigorous, and reeked of absolute loyalty. The prime minister praised the president's wisdom, and articles were written about his vision. Ministers poured in, carrying their files and censers. The reports talked only about a handful of fanatics, a handful of spiteful persons; and a handful of intellectuals polluted by the diseases of democracy and human rights. External fingers were crystal clear. He closes his eyes. You are known as Mr. President and showered with praise, poetry, and roses. Suddenly, you become the former president; the fallen president. They dreamed of getting closer and receiving a handshake, a smile, or a wave of the hand. Suddenly, they resign from you and from your long term; from the “transformation” and its achievements. They take down the pictures as if they were an accusation, and trample them. They open the books of the ruler, the family, and the entourage. The ruler's satisfaction is a source of happiness. No one wants to cause him concern. Interrogations are forbidden; doubts are prohibited; ambiguity is harmful. No one wants to disturb the decision maker or ruin his mood. The ruler doesn't like to hear the talk of the worried and the disenchanted. Hence, reports are perfumed with incense and the smell of jasmine; with categorical rhetoric for the eyes of security. No one wants to anger the ruler. Thus, he becomes alone in the palace. He sleeps on the silk of reports; he stays away from the pulse of the people; he believes the news bulletins, the elections concocted at the ministry of Interior, and the speeches that talk about achievements and changes. No one can bear the ruler's wrath. The ruler invents you, raises you up, breaks you; he gives you some of his prestige and qualities. The moment he gets angry, he eliminates you. You lose then your position and your friends. Your phone stops ringing. Sometimes, something even worse happens to you. He closes his eyes. What is the secret of this fire that has suddenly ignited and spread? Is it true that it is unemployment, poverty, corruption, the lack of freedom, and blocked horizons? Is it true that the revolution of communications now prevents the ruler from the right to defend his rule, and the army from shedding the blood of protestors? Is it true that the TV stations reminded the people of their strength and their right to anger, change, and turning a new page? Did the long rule drain the cards of gravity and force? Is it true that a small hole kills the ruler who depends on prestige and on prohibiting fingers from being raised? Zine El Abidine Ben Ali heard the pilot say: “Please fasten your seatbelts”, and smiled. This call doesn't concern him anymore. A ruler is late in fastening seatbelts. He remembered the peace of mind of the advisors. He looked at his watch. The advisor didn't say that the people are treacherous.
