In 2008, the bubble bursts, and the world’s mightiest economic giant stumbles. The full extent of the ramifications remains contested, and the recovery continues to slog on at an abysmally slow pace. As the details come to light, and the world bears witness to an infuriating trend—one of greed, disparity and double-dealing—the first of the Occupy movements takes place in Zucotti Park, on Sept. 17, 2011.
One man, a produce vendor in a small country, after years of harassment by police, douses himself in paint thinner and sets himself on fire on a public boulevard. One year later, the Arab Spring—a broad series of protests and revolutions responsible, among other things, for the ousting of Hosni Mubarak in Egypt and Muammar Qaddafi in Libya—continues to rile the Arab world.
In Spain, the indignados share the Occupy movement’s resentment of an intransigent establishment, unemployment and economic inequality. In Greece, protesters rail against austerity measures designed to slash public spending, raise taxes, and quell the current debt crisis. In Moscow, fearing a “return” of another 12 years of Vladmir Putin, protesters fight for the survival of their already questionable democracy, by demanding transparency in their government.
It has been an exhausting year, to say the least.
Now that Time magazine has named “The Protester” as its person of the year, there can be no doubt as to the significance of 2011 as a year for public dissidence. Though other events of the year may rival the protests in terms of their impact or news coverage, very few can be said to be completely independent of the protests, or the subsequent revolutions.
Should 2011 be viewed as the year of protests? For now, yes. Ten years from now? Perhaps—if you happen to be Arab or live in an Arab country.
My biggest reservation in referring to 2011 as the year of the protester is that it implies that 2010, or 2009, or any other year was not. Protests and social movements are simply a fact of the world we live in; every year enjoys some large-scale protest or other. Barring some bizarre or otherwise notable event occurring alongside them, they tend to be forgotten unless they are successful.
As an example, compare the Million Man March to the 2009 protests against the World Trade Organization in Seattle.
For these reasons, 10 years from now, 2011 will not likely be remembered so much as a year of protest, but as a year of Arab protest. And, perhaps, the year that the Arab world finally began to recover from two centuries of stagnation.
I see no wrong in naming the anonymous protester the person of the year. As previously stated, almost all of the year’s biggest stories arose from the efforts of protesters. What troubles me, however, is that it seems to suggest that protests like Occupy Wall Street share anything more than a sparse similarity with the Arab revolutions taking place in the Middle East.
That is simply unfair.
The impact of the Arab Spring is still only in the opening stages, and already the impact has been massive. Four leaders have been deposed, two of them violent dictators. Seven governments have been induced to reform and commit to legislative changes in response to the uprisings. In countries like Syria, amidst slaughter and suppression, the outcome remains undecided. In places like Yemen, it seems like just a matter of time.
In other words, there is more to the protests than the protests themselves. Though the protests will doubtlessly end someday, their ramifications will survive them.
The same cannot be said of the Occupy movement in the United States. Occupy Wall Street, for better or worse, went out with neither a bang nor a whimper—if it can be said to have gone out at all. At present, most people seem unable to say definitely whether the movement is dead or alive, let alone where or what its current activities are.
Perhaps it is necessary to highlight how great the difference is between the positions of the two protest movements. Occupy Wall Street seems to relish in the opportunity to liken itself to a major revolutionizing force like that in Egypt. They are right to do so, for the two movements are virtually identical—excluding coherent and consistent political vision, legitimate grievances against an actual authoritarian government, real threat of suppression by police and federal forces and massive participation in the democratic process, once secured.
We tend to view ourselves as the center of the world, as anyone in our position would. Most people do the same, in some shape or form. It’s less forgivable in our case, however, because unlike our contemporaries around the world, our actions and decisions generally do have global consequences. When Americans grow dissatisfied with their government, the world watches with trepidation. When Bahrainis lose admiration for King Hamad, we check our world maps and do a Wikipedia search, if we pay any attention at all.
A little perspective may do us some good.