Mariam Feki | Staff Writer
Another chapter of Tunisia’s autocratic chronicles is being written under Kais Saeid’s rule. The country that birthed the Arab Spring with its Jasmine revolution is, once again, facing another dictatorship– a constitutional one, par excellence. History repeats itself following Saeid’s coup d’état in 2021, as police brutality arises and human rights violations disturbingly become run-of-the-mill occurrences. The icing on the cake came when on September 13, 2022, Saeid enacted the–supposedly temporary–Decree Law 54, a cybercrime decree that has since kept freedom of speech on a tight leash.
Tunisian prisons are now buzzing with journalists, lawyers, activists, and civilians facing sentences over undefined speech offenses, or charged with conspiracy and terrorism. The Decree Law 54 criminalizes the dissemination of false news, and rumors about the government’s operations. The vagueness of said decree leaves ample room for interpretation, meaning that anyone, anywhere, can be convicted of spreading misinformation about the government or the president himself. Such was the case of lawyer and political activist Sonia Dahmani, who was recently released after almost eighteen months of imprisonment. Dahmani was arrested in May 2024 for comments criticizing segregation between Tunisians and sub-Saharan immigrants in public transportation. Since such comments bring unnecessary scrutiny to Saied’s government, they were considered as false information, and so Dahmani’s arrest fell under the Decree 54 umbrella.
To the opposition’s shock, though hardly surprising, constitutional reforms have always been at the center of Saeid’s agenda once he reigns over the country; in previous interviews, he has clearly stated that the constitution needed a few modifications. Then it was only natural, in his view,, that he takes it upon himself to draft his own constitution, taking advantage of the unstable political climate of 2022 and the popular voices, desperate for a better Tunisia. It gradually became clear to many Tunisians that electing a constitutional law professor as president had been a highly risky—and ultimately regrettable—decision.
Article 110 of the constitution clearly states that “the president of the republic is not accountable for the actions he performed in the course of performing his duties”. Saied appears to exercise broad, largely unchecked discretion, and individuals who challenge his actions on grounds of transparency are systematically marginalized.
What has followed as a result has been a familiar regression: the present collapsed neatly into the past, and the clock is now set back two decades to a time when dictatorship ruled with an iron fist. Across shops and offices all over the country, portraits of Kais Saeid quietly replaced those of Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, the former president of Tunisia, ousted by the violent winds of the 2011 revolution. Paradoxically, too, on the 17th of December 2025, thousands of civilians roamed the main street of Tunis commemorating the revolution while endorsing and pledging their allegiance to the autocrat.
This paradox points to a deeper dynamic. What makes Saeid’s authoritarianism alive is not only repression, but rather the psychological need it fulfills. The Frankfurt School attempts to explain this by suggesting the Authoritarian Personality theory. Although initially developed to explain the rise of Fascism and Nazism prior to World War II, the theory remains relevant and applicable to Saeid constituencies. At its core, the theory describes individuals with an authoritarian personality as conformists who seek certainty in structure and hierarchy, who submit to authority, and who respond to polemics with black-and-white thinking.
Understanding this personality type offers a valuable lens to Tunisia’s political climate and how the theory is applicable to Saeid’s supporters. The Frankfurt School’s theory sheds light on the intertwining nature of personality and ideology, and it suggests that support for authoritarian systems is not merely an ideological conviction but a psychological need for stability. Critics of the theory add another factor to explain the authoritarian personality: stress. Under Saeid’s rule, the people–supporters or oppositors–live under constant anxiety and post-traumatic stress from the Ben Ali and post-revolution eras; the cost of living is going up, basic commodities are hard to purchase, voices are repressed, and police brutality is on the rise. The Tunisian citizen is not only targeted by the government but also by a stress-inducing system that defines their living. The authoritarian personality finds shelter from these anxieties in an authoritarian figure who provides reassurance and promises of direction and social structure. Supporting Kais Saeid thus becomes a means of protection from the self and the outer world.
In a system that reproduces these responses, Tunisia’s future remains unknown. Will the people revolt once again, or is the price too high? Will Kais Saeid, the constitutionalist, organize yet another referendum to extend his mandate, or will he hand over his castle to a successor? We will cross that bridge when we get there. For the time being, not normalizing with the situation is key, and the streets will always be home to the suppressed voices of the people.