When the interrogator slapped me after ten hours of investigation, I was filled with an immense power to challenge him: “I will not answer any further questions. If you have instructions to jail me, then do it.”

When the interrogator slapped me after ten hours of investigation, I was filled with an immense power to challenge him: “I will not answer any further questions. If you have instructions to jail me, then do it.”

That was on May 7, 2005 when I was arrested for publishing a report criticizing the situation of journalism under Ben Ali’s regime. While I was the head of the Tunisian Journalists Union, the police, on September 8, 2009, forced me out of my office, dragged me in the street for more than a hundred meters and kicked my head and face with their shoes, but I found the strength and defiance to stand up, fix my tie and challenge those executioners.

However, on January 14, 2013, when the militia of the ruling Islamic Ennahda Party assaulted me and threatened me with death while I was in Bourguiba Street in downtown Tunis, celebrating the second anniversary of the revolution, I did not find that inner strength to face such abuse. Perhaps, it is because I had prepared myself during Ben Ali’s regime to face all the dangers that would result from resisting tyranny and considered the struggle for freedom, especially of the press, a boxing ring.

Throughout the years of repression under Ben Ali’s regime, the boxer in me was able to absorb all bruises and pain. This boxer’s morale and his belief in victory motivated me to stand up after each blow. I often wondered, at moments of relaxation, where I got that strength to defy restriction, siege and pain?

My father used to beg me to consider the fact that I had children and to stop terrifying him and my family with the danger surrounding my life, I told him: “I am a car at full speed on a highway; looking back or trying to stop is in vain.”

That was in the past. After the revolution, however, I learned to walk slowly and look back, left and right and even stop if necessary. When my father asks why I left the journalists union and all other human rights organizations that long had all my time, and why I retreated from playing a role in the public life, I answer, “Previously, I dedicated all my life to defend the freedom of journalism and now it is time to practice this freedom on the ground instead of demanding it. It is now time to practice my job as any other professional who loves his job.”

Unfortunately, the Tunisian revolution has not yet achieved its goals. The constitution, which was given a year to be formulated, has not yet been drafted. In fact, we are not sure of our ability here in Tunisia to develop a constitution that guarantees a democratic civil state that respects rights and freedoms. In addition, the date of elections has not yet been specified and we are not certain whether or not we will have future elections.

The rate of violence increases constantly and the parties that will potentially come to power are establishing armed militia parallel to the army and security forces. The extremist groups are being organized under structures describing themselves as civil societies. Political money is flowing uncontrolled in a rebelling country where transparency and anti-corruption indicators have decreased to levels even lower than under the tyrannical regime.

I am one of many in this country who believe that the only accomplishment of the revolution is freedom, especially of expression and of the press. Therefore, I was deeply hurt when I was attacked and threatened with death; I did not find that inner strength that accompanied me throughout the years of hell. Perhaps it was because I let go of that inner boxer during the earlier days of the revolution.

Although many artists and journalists have been recently attacked by militias, I never expected to be a target for those groups controlled by Ennahda.  Firstly, because I consider myself one of the participants in this revolution, and secondly because the Ennahda leaders always appreciated me despite my critical stance against them.

On January 14th, I went to Bourguiba Street in Tunis. I wanted to recall those wonderful moments I lived two years ago; that immortal symphony of thousands of Tunisians chanting “Degage”. I was eager for an event that brings all Tunisians together as they once were on January 14, 2011.

That day, thirty bearded men headed towards me cursing the media that “interferes with the government, pointing out only faults and imperfections and exaggerating mistakes.” They kicked me and called me “a symbol of this corrupt media, which follows suspicious agendas.”

In a surreal scene, some of them even beat me and threatened me with death. When I said to the police that a death threat was a crime punishable by law, a policeman answered, “We have no authority over those people; only God has control over them.”

This was no surprise since the prime minister, who is also the Ennahda secretary general, blamed the media for the failure of his government, which is an accusation previously leveled by many of the Ennahda leaders, at the helm being Rashid al-Ghannoushi; they accused the media of conspiring against the government and attempting to make it fail. These statements were followed by calls from mosques to attack journalists and assault them.

I was not the only one assaulted by the Ennahda militia that day; a member of the journalist union executive office, Ziad El Heni – previously targeted by Ben Ali’s police – was violently assaulted. The militants also tried to assault some photojournalists, which emphasizes the fact that such an assault was only for the purpose of intimidating the journalists and eliminating the freedom of the press. This freedom was born out of the death of fear inside us.

I fear today that the space of freedom accomplished by the revolution and practiced for the past two years has only been a break that could end at any time. I fear that the culture of tyranny and anti-freedom is inherent in our political class since it has identified with the tyrant and unconsciously assumed his character.

And unconsciously, my inner boxer starts warming up for further rounds, for freedom.