The Spark Has Become a Flame:
How the Egyptian Revolution Has Reinvigorated the Power of the People Worldwide
Photo couretsy of www.creativephotographymagazine.com
by Andy Young
On December 22nd, a month before the one year anniversary of the Egyptian Revolution, I am watching a video of the women of Alexandria chanting and marching against the violence, and the very legitimacy, of Egypt’s military. There are tens of thousands of women, as there were the previous day in Cairo. Men join hands beside them, making a human chain of protection. The Egyptian Revolution—seeing people so fearless and determined—inspired me more than any other public event in my lifetime. Back in early 2011, the fact that brave determination could achieve such monumental change filled me with awe. That they could do it without violence on their part completely stunned me.
And here we are, a year later, and the marches continue because, while the people have seen the fall of the official regime, and have seen the first-ever democratic elections take place in their country, they have not yet seen the ideals of the revolution—Bread, Dignity, Freedom—put into place. Revolution, by its nature, continues. Only the most naïve would believe that February 11th, the day Mubarak was forced from power, was the end of oppression or freedom’s unchallenged beginning. But how it has played out, how it is playing out, is worth watching, to say the least. If you think of Egypt as the spark that lit the explosion of revolutionary/occupy movements throughout the world now, then how it evolves is of particular interest to all of us. And yet, currently, there is precious little coverage.
For me, these events are personal. I’m married to an Egyptian, co-edit Meena, a bilingual Arabic/English literary journal, and I am raising two Egyptian-American bilingual kids. I have a big family in Egypt and many amazing friends. When news is personal, one must attend. To my American friends and acquaintances who say “I can’t listen to the news. It’s too depressing,” I think and sometimes say: that is a privilege. If a bomb were falling on your roof or a baton whizzing toward your face, you’d pay attention to the news about it. What people do not get is that these events affect us all; we are part of it.
If you are American, your tax dollars go to funding the live bullets fired into the heads and hearts of Egyptian protestors. Like the beloved sheikh Emad Effet—a cleric at Al Azhar University and a well known character in Tahrir Square with a kind, beaming smile—who was shot in the heart last weekend. Or Dr. Alaa Abdel Hady—a medical student who has been working at the field hospital in Tahrir since January 25th –shot in the head while he protected the hospital. Or the eleven-year-old boy whose name I don’t yet know. Those boots the army is wearing? The ones you can see on YouTube stomping prone people’s heads repeatedly? The batons that crack the ribs of the old and young, both men and women? Forty percent of cost of those boots, those guns, those batons are paid for with U.S. funding.
That’s nothing new, of course. For decades, we propped up a dictator referred to as a democratic ruler who repressed his people to a point (some thought) beyond hope. We paid his bills for nearly 30 years. But now that it is all out in the open. Now that we have seen, in unequivocal terms, that most Egyptians—and there are a lot of Egyptians, a mind-boggling number of them—are willing to die in peaceful protest against their government, now that that magical word democracy has been evoked….and horeya (freedom). Now that we saw – could it be? – we Americans and Egyptians want the same things, shouldn’t we be responding differently? The White House applauded the brave efforts of Egyptian youth. There was talk of their nomination for a Nobel Prize. We were all with them! And yet. You could hear a Christmas pine needle drop in the silence from the White House. There is scarcely a peep on the news as Twitter feeds and Youtube videos fill with blood.
The army, once “one hand” with the people, refusing to fire on them, essentially facilitating a bottom-up coup d’état on the side of the people against their leader, has now turned on them. Perhaps it now realizes, if it actually allows the full unfolding of the people’s will, that it will be demoted. Perhaps it has decided that’s not such a great idea. The military was supposed to turn over its power after six months. After six months passed, and they did not, the screws began to tighten more. Things have gotten bad, and then very bad, since September, when attacks on protestors started to become a regular occurrence and activists, doctors, and journalists were singled out for violent treatment. More than 12,000 Egyptian civilians have been tried in military courts since February 11th
And the U.S. has turned a blind eye to the growing abuses. Last spring, activists were rounded up in spurts. Essam Ramy, the revolutionary singer who circulated on YouTube with a very catchy tune which repeated Erhal (Leave) while thousands in Tahrir Square joined in—he was beaten with sticks and had to conduct interviews lying on his stomach due to the impossibility of standing, sitting, or lying on his back. Women, in particular, were abused, their “virginity” checked. Mikael Nabil, a blogger and activist, was sentenced, in military courts, to two years in prison and began a hunger strike. More recently, activist Alaa Abdel Fatah, a blogger and programmer from a well-known family of activists including writer Ahdaf Soueif, was sentenced to prison on fabricated charges. From prison, he has fought and won the right for prisoners to vote. He is also currently, along with his family and many intellectuals, activists, and friends, on a hunger strike and taking the army to court over the lack of judicial process.
In October, there was what has come to be known as the Maspero Massacre: an attack on a mostly-Christian protest focused on the rights of Copts in Egypt. The army, citing unsubstantiated instigation from the protestors, brutally attacked them. Nada el-Shazly, one young activist, told the New York Times: “’Muslims get what is happening,’ she said. The military, she said, was ‘trying to start a civil war.’” Indeed, the beginning of 2011 revealed the strategy. A Coptic church was bombed during a New Year’s midnight mass. Extremist Muslims were blamed. But it came out in the unearthing of documents during the eighteen days of the revolution (a woefully underreported story) that the Interior Ministry was behind it. The people, divided, can’t rise. At least twenty-four were killed in Maspero, and scores injured.
In November, the security forces, ordered by the military, and then the military itself, tried to clear the Square, which, to summarize, did not work. A battle ensued on Mohammed Mahmoud Street, as protestors tried to hold the street and protect the people inside the Square from the armed forces. Expired nerve gas from the United States—called tear gas, but much more menacing, causing organ bleeding, convulsions, and death—was sprayed in great quantities.
Snipers systematically aimed for the eyes during that period, and more than 120 people lost one or both eyes. One of these was the young dentist Ahmed Harara, who had already lost an eye in January. He says in interviews that he’d rather be blind and free than sighted and accepting of oppression, and he only stays out of Tahrir Square now because his doctors say the nerve inflammation from the new gas may be particularly harmful to his wounds. Journalists were targeted, including the outspoken, Egyptian-American Mona El Tahawy, who was sexually assaulted and whose arms were both broken. At least forty people were killed during that week in November. Then the first wave of elections began, and things calmed down for a bit.
Last week, things took the worst turn yet. Dr. Alaa Abdel Hady, a well-known activist, was beaten to death. One called Abdoui, an “Ultra” (a kind of guerrilla-activist-soccer club) was beaten nearly beyond recognition. Both events sparked outrage from the protestors, who were then attacked with chunks of concrete thrown from the tops of buildings and a generous portion of baton beatings. The army became determined to clear the Square. Over the next few days, they burned the tents down and built walls around the Square to prevent people coming in. They shot people with live ammunition, to say nothing of the injured or those shot with rubber bullets. They have killed children and praying people. They have beaten the elderly and—as evidenced in a video that is circulating worldwide of a woman stripped to her bra and dragged, stepped on, and beaten in daylight—they have particularly targeted women.
For the first time since January, 2011, the Square was cleared. Which is not to say that the people do not continue to try to come back. One thing the powers-that-be in Egypt don’t seem to get is this: the more people see the vulnerable attacked, the more determined they become to protect them. The more fear they lose. So the people return. They even return with humor; one of the recent chants heard in Tahrir was “The People Want the Old Gas!” One of the high-ranking Egyptian military officers made a remark a few days ago that the dissidents should be put into “Hitler’s ovens,” a truly deplorable remark, and one of the only things to have gotten a rise out of U.S. officials, though you’d think they might say something about the beating and killing of peaceful protesters that can be witnessed on live screens by all who care to watch.
I spent the Sunday night before Christmas watching a live feed from Syrian journalist and activist Rami Jarrah, alias Alexander Page, who was filming, calmly, from inside one of the unarmed crowds. Not only was all media cut from Tahrir and its surrounds, all power was cut, too. It was hard to get one’s bearings, though his impeccable English narration was very helpful. At one point the chants turned from the familiar eshop yuri/the people want to unified prayer: Allahu Akbar. The people were facing their death as the army came toward them with rifles. I don’t know how many died that night. There are at least seventeen casualties in the last six days, and at least 102 have been killed since early November, three of them children.
The United States has seen its share of police brutality over the last six months. The pepper-spraying of kneeling, passive protestors has been repeated ad nauseum in social media through footage and artistic parody. Is this a new trend in how to deal with troublesome elements? The struggle in Egypt is only a distant situation in terms of geography. If it was a catalyst for our uprisings, its evolution might be instructive. Yet, a few weeks ago, Time magazine chose to display an image of an Egyptian protestor, surrounded by tear gas, wearing a mask, on the cover of all of its foreign editions. In the U.S., the cover story was about anxiety and why it is good for you. So the message is: let’s feel good about our anxiety instead of troubling ourselves with other people’s suffering? Or: let’s make peace with the fact that we help fund the suffering, a fact that might also be anxiety-producing?
Maybe we should take a page from Egypt, where each upcoming Friday, crowds of protestors will be out again despite – indeed, because of – the violence against their fellow citizens. Maybe we should take a page from the women who, instead of staying home in response to seeing another woman stripped and beaten in the street, or to seeing their brothers, friends, and cousins shot and beaten, took to the streets these last two days, shouting: “Drag me, strip me, my brother's blood will cover me!” Maybe there can be a revolution in how we respond.
UPDATE:
Since the writing of this essay, Time magazine celebrated “The Protestor” as its person of the year. Alaa Abdel Fatah was released from prison, though his trial continues. Touching footage of meeting his newborn child, born while he was in prison, has been circulating in social media. Mikael Nabil—who came perilously close to dying because of his prolonged hunger strike, deplorable conditions in confinement, and abuse by fellow prisoners who were members of the former regime—ended his hunger strike and was transferred to a prison hospital. He was released from prison on January 21st. New Year’s Eve saw the spontaneous gathering of tens of thousands of Egyptians united in Tahrir Square, with a Coptic choir deciding to move services from a nearby church to a stage there to join pop singers, artists, sheikhs, and activists in celebration, circled by thousands in a candlelight march.
Andy Young is a New Orleans- based poet and writer. Her collection of poems reflecting on the Egyptian Revolution The People Is Singular is available from Press Street Books. The views expressed here are her own and do not represent those of Peace Action Wisconsin.
Issues & Campaigns
