When political analysts in Japan are being witty, they liken certain politicians to a “kazamidori”, or weather vane – and that’s because the politicians in question are well known to swing from side to side depending on which way the political or populist wind is blowing.

When political analysts in Japan are being witty, they liken certain politicians to a “kazamidori”, or weather vane – and that’s because the politicians in question are well known to swing from side to side depending on which way the political or populist wind is blowing.

Recent events indicate that the Tunisian president, Moncef Marzouki, could be described as a “kazamidori” too. Since he took the position of president, Marzouki has changed his opinions several times, according to changes in Tunisia – he seems to be caught between his history as a former human rights activist and his political position as a head of state, allied with the Islamist Ennahdha party, in a coalition between Islamists and secularists of a kind that’s rare in the Middle East right now.

This can be seen simply by looking at Marzouki’s words, from speech to speech. In a December 13 speech, the president used the word “safirat” to describe Tunisian women who choose not to wear a veil.

However his use of this word – which is seen as negative by many liberals but appropriate by Islamists – was so heavily criticised by the country’s liberals that Marzouki had to explain that he had not meant anything negative by it.

Then when Marzouki didn’t ask God to have mercy on late Tunisian leader, Habib Bourguiba, there was another outcry – Marzouki was insulting the founder of the Tunisian republic. But he had been happy to praise former Tunisian President, Fouad Mebazaa, who had also been politically active under deposed Tunisian dictator, Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali. Marzouki praised Mebazaa for his flexibility and for the way he handled the newly elected government’s coming to power.

In the meantime Marzouki also seems to have become the butt of various jokes. Tunisians make fun of his lack of respect for presidential protocols and his spontaneity; Marzouki favours the simple clothes of Tunisia’s country folk and eschews ties, shirts and shiny shoes. Not least, some of the jokes have come because of the way the former human rights activist has disappointed the Tunisian populace.

As President, Marzouki’s powers are considered more symbolic than anything; the Prime Minister holds most of the power. And many locals believe that Marzouki has turned into nothing more than a powerless ally of the poor and the marginalized and those whose rights are threatened by his own political allies, the Ennahdha party and their Islamist supporters.

Nonetheless he has made significant appearances at times of controversy, particularly when the subjects had to do with women’s rights, freedom of belief and freedom of association.

For example, when a group of more extreme Islamists tried to replace the red Tunisian flag flying over the University of Manouba with a black Salafist one, a female student, Khaoula Rashidi, tried to stop the removal of the Tunisian flag. On March 12, Marzouki honoured her defence of the Tunisian flag at an official ceremony.

And after December protests in Siliana, an impoverished part of Tunisia, turned violent with government forces apparently firing shotguns at protestors, the grief that Marzouki felt about the incident was clearly written on his face. He apologized to families of victims, describing what had happened as “a wound that pained him deeply”. He did not offer to resign though.

At the same time, the country’s President has continued to furnish the Tunisian people with material for jokes. His talk of a father with two sons and only one pair of socks and shoes saw some naming him the “theorists of socks”. And other symbolic gestures he has made – for instance, throwing flowers into the sea where many Tunisians have drowned in an attempt to reach the Italian coast – have not gone down well either. Some Tunisians have described these as a black comedy.   

It all adds up to one conclusion: Marzouki remains confused, caught between the constraints of his position and political loyalties, his professed desire to be one of the ordinary people and his history of human rights activism. It could just be political naiveté. Then again the Tunisian President’s uncomfortable position is perhaps an apt symbol of the struggle of the Tunisian government in general and their desire to do all they said they would. Which is why for the time being it seems the kazamidori will continue to swing undecided, from side to side, as the Tunisian breeze continues to blow.