The circular dances, which were possibly spontaneous celebrations by the students who had walked from the other cities of the country to the main university here (in fairness, there was also a full band and fireworks, so it wasn't exactly ex nihilio, or like the conclusion to Mnouchkine's Tartuffe), became part of the large rally the next day at the traffic circle between the temple hill and the old city. Additionally, some of the professors apparently sang traditional songs as part of their speeches. Possibly a reaction to the claims of the party in power that the movement was carried along by foreign influence. The interesting thing about it is that these songs and dances aren't like the cultural songs and poems sometimes seen at American political conventions. Unlike the songs and oratory of the American 19th c., modern political entertainments are always accomplished in advance, and generally have the same effect no matter whether they are real or mountebank entertainments, so long as everyone remembers the words. (Carried to antinomy by the mindless dancing of the candidates to the background music, which runs the gamut from the U.K.'s demonstrably game (rhymes with tame) Member for Maidenhead to the peculiar dancing-instead-of-speaking of the fellow who won the last race in the US.) Possibly, the songs here are different -- citizens are listening carefully to judge the nature of the singer and the song. Something atavistic there, something characteristic of democracy, perhaps essentially so.
