On Sunday February 20, Morocco experienced its first encounter with the wave of democratic change that has been sweeping across the Arab world. In each of several major cities, tens of thousands of Moroccans demonstrated for the same kinds of demands that we have seen elsewhere: to replace arbitrary and absolute uses of power with real, open democracy, to end the corruption and clientalism that stifles economic life, and to assert the rights of citizens to be treated with dignity and respect and to have a decent life for themselves and their families. Like these other demonstrations, those in Morocco also give us a glimpse of a new kind of movement -- one that brings together disaffected youth, impoverished working people, Islamists, traditional political dissidents, human rights groups, and others, in a kind of "leaderless" movement without a fixed ideological agenda. Unlike some other movements, the Moroccan demonstrations were predominately oriented toward reform, not overthrow; they did not attack the person of the King or the institution of the monarchy, and - what is most likely to keep them on that path - they were not met with brutal repression.

It would be possible for the regime to ignore what this means - there, after all, is no occupation of a central square to contend with. It would be better, however, for everyone to heed what it means - there is, clearly, a widespread, persistent discontent, affecting a broad swath of the populace. We have only seen the beginning of a process through which that discontent will manifest itself and find its political expression. How things develop from here is not known or predictable, and will depend on how the different forces react and interact going forward, but, in the present context, it is unlikely that expressions of that discontent will simply disappear. 

The welcome lack of bloody conflict has produced a curious uncertainty on both sides, a kind of double-double-bind situation that seems good for everyone: for the movement, the lack of fierce confrontation and overly radical demands helps legitimize the protest, and may make more people comfortable with and in it; but it may also be perceived as a sign of weakness. For the regime, the avoidance of brutal repression redounds to its credit, but it may also embolden the movement and help it grow. Neither side should underestimate the complexity of the pas de deux in which they are now engaged. For the regime, especially, to react with complacency and condescension - treating this movement as something that can either be ignored or absorbed in the usual ways, would be a very risky bet.

Much more productive, and much smarter, would be to heed the message of this movement - which, right now, is nothing else than to recapture the spirit of the new reign of Mohammed VI that the country had twelve years ago, to restart a hopeful process that so many feel has been rudely interrupted and replaced with disappointing new versions of business-as-usual. We started with the Justice and Reconciliation Authority (IER) and a promise of a new era of justice and accountability, and have arrived instead, post-16 May, with new waves of mass arrests, anti-"Islamist" fear-mongering, torture, and rendition [sous-traitance]. We started with a new era of freedom of the press, and have arrived at a state of censorship and legal harassment that has closed much of the independent press, and silenced or driven into exile many of its strongest voices. We began with a promise of economic transparency, and have ended in a state of economic predation, conducted by lobbies and vested interests in the name of the monarchy. We began with alternance, welcoming opposition parties and political dissidents into a new era of open democracy, and have passed through technocratic fixes to arrive at a return to "political normalcy," only to be undermined by ad-hoc commissions. The latest "new" political stratagem is a frankly royalist party, which may accrue more power to the monarchy in the short term, but, by bringing it further down into the arena of day-to-day political infighting, undermines the legitimacy it was recently accorded by all actors.

In short, many feel that the hopes and promises - the very spirit -- of the new reign have been abandoned. This is because they were not subject to a participatory process of constitutionalization and institutionalization, which is the only way that would have become permanent and irreversible. They were instead, once again, left discretionary. The monarchy has not submitted to a new, viable contract with the people. What the movement of February 20 is telling us is that these hopes and promises -- these rights -- can't be discretionary anymore. We have to return to them, and quickly begin a process that people can see is making them fixed and irrevocable. We have, that is, to revive and recast the spirit of the new reign with new urgency -- because there are new actors on the political stage who won't go away. Our nation has been put on notice: Change must and will come, and it will not be top-down anymore.  The commander [commandant de bord] now has a co-pilot, the Moroccan people, who will not fall asleep at the wheel.

The toppling of Egypt's modern-day pharaoh through peaceful mass protests, aided by Facebook and Twitter, marks a watershed for Egypt and the entire Arab world. Contrary to widespread anxieties in the U.S. foreign policy establishment, it will also serve the long-term interests of the United States - and Israel.

Many analysts of Egypt have been warning for years that the status quo under Hosni Mubarak was not sustainable. A repressive and deeply corrupt dictatorship was sitting on top of a social volcano - an increasingly young, urbanized, digitally connected population seething over the lack of freedom, dignity and economic opportunity. A quarter of Egypt's working-age youth are unemployed and many more under-employed. Over the past two decades, average incomes in Egypt stagnated while they doubled or tripled elsewhere in the region.

Think of what could have happened. Many observers (including myself) worried that the growing alienation of young Egyptians might flow in anti-American, anti-Israeli and radical Islamist directions. The inevitable eruption could have turned violent, resulting in the kind of bloody suppression that gripped Algeria in the early 1990s, when 200,000 died. Or it might have been hijacked by radical Islamists who would ride the popular revolution to power, as in Iran in 1979.

So far, none of these have happened. The millions of Egyptians who have poured into the streets of Cairo and other cities have not been chanting "down with America," nor have their protests been about Israel (or the Palestinians). Rather, they want freedom, justice and accountability in Egypt. They have mobilized for democratic change with extraordinary discipline, imagination and moderation. In the face of killings, provocations, arrests and torture, they have adhered to nonviolence as a sacred principle.

In achieving the first condition for Egypt's liberation, the departure of the pharaoh, through peaceful grassroots mobilization, a huge chip has been lifted from their shoulders. Now Egyptians feel a new sense of pride, confidence and empowerment. And they are beginning to view the United States in a fresh and more hopeful light, not because of President Obama's Cairo Speech in 2009 but because of what he said and subtly did in the last two weeks (after several rhetorical blunders by some in his administration). As the mass protests grew, Obama aligned the United States more explicitly behind the goal of peaceful democratic change, warned the regime against the use of force, and urged Mubarak to step aside. The experience could mark a turning point not just for Egypt but for Barack Obama personally. He now has the chance to nurture democratic change in the Arab world through artful diplomacy and timely assistance, where George W. Bush failed with blunter rhetoric and means.

Israel as well should be reassured by developments so far. Egypt's new (and hopefully temporary) military junta has quickly reaffirmed the country's treaty obligations. Few protesters are calling for abrogation of Egypt's peace with Israel. Most protesters resent Israel's treatment of the Palestinians and want an independent Palestinian state, but mainly they want to transform their own country politically and economically. They know their aspirations for human dignity and economic opportunity can only be met with far-reaching internal reforms, and that the worn-out theme of anti-Zionism is a divergence from that. Israel and its friends should thus welcome democratic change in Egypt. The only way to guarantee a lasting Middle East peace is to root negotiated agreements in the same democratic legitimacy that undergirds the stability and resilience of Israel's political system. As Thomas Friedman recently observed, it is a better bet to make peace with 82 million people than with one man.

The challenge now is to ensure that Egypt's revolution produces a genuine pluralist democracy. This is far from assured.

Egypt's military rulers may well seek to sabotage the transition and restore the old order with a slightly more democratic façade. Or the Muslim Brotherhood (which rejects violent means but clings to Islamist political ends) could gain the upper hand in popular mobilization or elections. But the second scenario will be much more likely to follow, rather than prompt, the first. If a democratic transition unfolds seriously and peacefully through negotiations and reform, and if democratic institutions are well designed, the Muslim Brotherhood will be a significant but minority player.

For Egypt, Mubarak's fall is only the first step along a tortuous path. If its transition leads to democracy, it will produce a much more reliable partner for peace and progress in the Middle East. That is why other democracies in the world should support it in every way possible.

On February 1, James Cavallaro, Clinical Professor of Law at Harvard and Executive Director of Harvard Law School's Program on Human Rights, spoke at the fifth installment of the Sanela Diana Jenkins Speaker Series hosted by the Center on Democracy, Development and the Rule of Law's Program on Human Rights.

While much of Cavallaro's research has focused on the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, his talk focused on his experience working on human rights issues in Brazil. Recounting stories from when he helped establish offices for Human Rights Watch in Brazil, Cavallaro raised the question of why human rights has not caught nearly as much traction in Brazil as in its South American neighbors.

To explain this "Brazilian exceptionalism" with regard to human rights, Cavallaro highlighted the persistently high crime rates that continue to plague Brazilian society. According to Cavallaro, Brazilian police are the worst human rights violators and have been known to torture suspects, employing apparatuses like the Parrot's Perch, and to use firearms and force indiscriminately. However, these violations of human rights agreements are tolerated in Brazil because the general population considers a hard stance on crime necessary to maintain order and to keep crime rates from rising to the levels seen during the early 1990s. Cavallaro noted that when people are forced to weigh their personal security against the rights' of others, people's self-interest almost always take precedence.

However, Cavallaro said that human rights in Brazil could be at a crossroads of sorts. He pointed out that how police forces handle security issues when Brazil hosts both the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Summer Olympic games could potentially mark the course for future human rights advancement or prolonged stagnancy in Brazil. He suggested that these events, during which Brazil's economic development and national pride will be on display, could serve to professionalize the police force and redefine the boundaries of appropriate action. Unfortunately, he said, the likelihood of such a shift in norms is unlikely to develop in the few years before these events.