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Egyptians

Uncertainty Shadows the Eve of Egypt’s Elections

By Sallie Pisch

On the eve of such historic elections, Egyptians are wary. No one has any idea who will win the country’s first post-Mubarak presidential race. And many of the Egyptians who aren’t boycotting the election also aren’t voting for any candidate.

They’re voting against all the others.

The liberals, leftists, Islamists, moderates, conservatives, and everyone else are all suspicious of each other.

A year ago, Egyptians were still high on hope after an adrenaline-filled uprising toppled three-decade ruler Hosni Mubarak from power. Egyptians hoped their next presidential election would be free and fair, a chance to democratically elect Egypt’s new head of state.

The feeling now is one of uncertainty. Few Egyptians have found a candidate they strongly support among the field of 13. Instead, many are casting ballots for the candidate they think has the best chance of winning against the candidate they least want to see in power.

The activists who risked their lives on the streets to oust Mubarak last year don’t see a liberal candidate who represents them. Some have said they’ll vote for the closest thing – Nasserist Hamdeen Sabbahi or leftist lawyer Khaled Ali – but others have chosen to simply boycott the vote.

“We can’t elect a president under military rule,” one such activist said a few days before the election. For him, Egypt’s ruling military council must be ousted before truly fair elections can take place.

He plans to boycott the election entirely.

Some Egyptians see Islamist Abdel Moneim Aboul Fotouh as a moderate choice. Once a prominent member of Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood, Aboul Fotouh was kicked out of the organization when he announced his intention to run for president last year. At the time, the Brotherhood insisted it would not front a candidate.

Others see Aboul Fotouh as just another Islamist, even if he is more moderate than the official candidate of the Brotherhood-affiliated Freedom and Justice Party, Mohammed Morsi. The country’s Coptic Christian community, in particular, is wary of both candidates.

“I’d like to vote for Khaled Ali, but he doesn’t have a chance,” said Farida, a Coptic Christian businesswoman. “And I hate the thought of voting for Amr Moussa, but at least he has a chance to beat Aboul Fotouh.”

Many “revolutionaries” label those who support Moussa or former Prime Minister Ahmed Shafiq as felool, literally ‘remnants’ of Hosni Mubarak’s formerly ruling regime. What some view as a return to stability they view as a return to the former president’s dictatorial ways.

Some see Moussa as a legitimate option and others, like Farida, as the lesser of two evils. As former head of the Arab League Moussa is familiar with international politics and Egypt’s role in the international community, plus he was not a direct part of the Mubarak government.

Sabbahi, who gained more than some expected in the Egyptian overseas vote last week, is also controversial. On one hand, Sabbahi is seen as a true revolutionary rather than a free rider, someone who fought the regime for years before the outbreak of last year’s revolution. Others argue that Egypt needs stability right now, and that a Nasserist would only further destabilize the country and disrupt the economy.

The conservatives voting for Moussa or Shafiq fear instability from the ‘revolutionaries’ like Sabbahi or Ali; the Islamists are suspicious of the leftists and liberals, the liberals are skeptic of everyone; and everyone except the Islamists worry that Aboul Fotouh or Morsi will try to apply a strict Islamic law on the country.

There is fear and suspicion across the board, but some still hope that at the very least this week’s election will set Egypt on a new course to recovery and success.

Sallie Pisch is a journalist and photographer based in Cairo, Egypt. Writing for various Egyptian and foreign media outlets, she has covered Egyptian politics since 2010 and was an eyewitness to the Egyptian Revolution and its aftermath.

May 22, 2012 0 comment

Security and Conflict Society and Culture

Resilience in Tahrir Square

written by thegeneration

By F.A., Commentary from Cairo, Egypt.

Night cloaked Tahrir Square as the lampposts cast a dim light over the thousands of people gathered in the vicinity. Street vendors and food carts made their way between groups of protesters. We attempted to weave our way through the crowds with boxes of supplies to the heart of the square where protesters were setting up field hospitals. It was the night of the “Millionnaya,” or “Million Man March” on November 22nd. The sky was prickled with banners listing demands and calling for the step-down of Tantawi. Young men dangled from light poles waving Egyptian flags and calling chants that were echoed from below. While the square itself remained fairly safe, the real battle blazed on Mohammed Mahmoud Street, a street leading to the Interior Ministry. A line had been cleared leading from the main street through the square and down Mohammed Mahmoud Street. Every other minute, ambulances, cars, and mopeds carrying the injured zipped through the road. At the first ring of the ambulance siren, the crowd would part and the vehicles would maneuver through the crowd, narrowly missing stray protesters. During the intervals of calmness, groups of young men, their faces concealed with gas masks and plastic glasses would march into the very heart of the battleground. As they walked, they chanted anti-SCAF (Supreme Council of the Armed Forces) slogans. Some of them would return in ambulances during the night, shot in the eyes with rubber bullets or choking from toxic tear-gas the police had released.

One young demonstrator recounted to me the set-up of the street. The police had drawn three lines: crossing the first resulted in tear gas, crossing the second resulted in a spray of rubber bullets, and crossing the third resulted in live ammunition. He himself had stood in the front lines tossing Molotov cocktails. He told me of a man who desperately wanted to throw his Molotov cocktail, but had no hands to reach and grab them. He explained that he had lost both hands as a result of police brutality during the revolution in January. So he grasped the bottle between his wrists and flung it towards the police.

Any protesters in the vicinity of Mohammed Mahmoud street, even those protesting in the square itself (which remained largely peaceful throughout the event), could be subject to wafts of teargas said to contain extra chemicals that resulted in anything from itchiness, to fainting spells and seizures. In the words of many I’ve met, “the government is trying to poison the people.” Those exposed to the gas could be seen with a layer of white dust coating their faces–medicine applied on the face to stifle the sting of teargas.

Police corruption and sheer abandonment of public duties, not to mention exaggerated use of force towards demonstrators, has made protection of the public a collective duty in Egyptian society. In the media, shocking images emerged of police officers beating injured, peaceful protesters and throwing dead bodies in trashcans from the early days of the recent demonstration.

For days, the street leading to the Interior Ministry remained a battleground between protesters and policemen eager to use teargas and rubber bullets. Eventually, the military intervened to form a barrier between the police and demonstrators. Yet this move only came after at least 40 civilians were killed and thousands were injured through police brutality.

The ruling Military Council continues to attempt to stifle calls for a transition to civilian governance. They continue to play a waiting game, resisting demands as demonstrations ebb and flow in Tahrir Square each week. Any changes in government are internal, rearranging leadership by merely recycling politicians and players from the old regime.

A dwindling number of demonstrators continue their sit-in of Tahrir Square. Many of them are families of those who had lost their lives in the protests. Others are protesters that have been injured and have been denied the health care promised by the government. Reports of violence from the square are often attributed to “Baltagaya” or “thugs” that are said to be infiltrators sent by the government, meant to internally cause problems within the demonstrations. Harassment of women during the protests has also been attributed to their presence. These are all attempts to disperse the crowds and discourage the people from attending demonstrations.

While the disillusionment with the current situation can be felt, there is a resilience that brings the people back to Tahrir Square week after week. In many ways, the revolution continues and undermining the long-established military institution is its challenge.

February 5, 2012 7 comments

Security and Conflict Society and Culture

Egypt: Remembering the old and approaching the new

written by thegeneration

By Sallie Pisch

The Generation welcomes its newest contributor, Sallie Pisch, to the team! Sallie currently lives in Cairo, Egypt, and is an extremely talented writer. Exactly one year after the January 25 uprising in Egypt, she reflects on the overall situation on the ground in Cairo. The following video was put together by Sallie using her personal video clips that she filmed on January 25th.

Egypt is approaching the one-year anniversary of the January 25 uprising that sent shockwaves through the region and captured the attention and the hearts of the world. But has anything really changed in the Arab world’s most populous country?

Walking the streets of Cairo, it’s hard to tell.

Africa’s largest city, home to roughly 20 million, is still dusty and crowded. Emissions from cars long past their prime choke the air as those same cars, pedestrians, and the occasional donkey-cart choke the streets. Children still go to school; old men still sit in traditional ahwas drinking tea and smoking water-pipes; upper-class twenty-somethings still frequent trendy cafés and nightclubs and spend enough money nightly to feed a small army.

The changes are subtle, but they’re there if you know where to look: the colors of the Egyptian flag painted on bridge supports and curbs, anti-regime graffiti scattered across the city, BBC Arabic playing in a café instead of MTV Arabia.

In 2010’s parliamentary elections, voter turnout was roughly 10 percent (despite government claims that it was 25 percent). In the first round of parliamentary elections in 2011, voter turnout was roughly 60 percent.

There were irregularities in the 2011 elections – polling stations opening late, illegal campaigning on election day, the use of religious slogans. But there were no reports of ballot-stuffing and no one died as a result of scuffles between supporters of opposing candidates.

What’s more, even those skeptical of Egypt’s transitional process know there IS a process. In 2010, many Egyptians didn’t even know parliamentary elections were happening. Today, from cab drivers to political gurus, every Egyptian knows who the political players are and what they think of them.

This is perhaps the most important change, and the thing that will keep Egypt moving forward despite the challenges: today, Egyptians care.

Regardless of how the political process moves forward (or doesn’t), no one can take back the feeling of national pride Egyptians felt during those 18 days of demonstrations in 2011. For the first time in decades, Egyptians found their voices.

When police forces withdrew from Cairo on January 28 after hours of bloody clashes with demonstrators, Egyptians stepped up to the plate. They organized neighborhood watch groups and checkpoints that were manned around the clock.

For the first time in their lives, young men who were born and lived their entire lives under the regime of Hosni Mubarak felt like their streets were their own, and watched over them with pride.

Egyptians remember that feeling. They also remember the apathy, helplessness and frustration they felt before. Many are still frustrated with what they perceive as an unfinished revolution, with many goals still unmet. But they no longer feel helpless.

That pride, as well as the memory of apathy, is what will sustain Egypt through a long, complicated and sometimes controversial transitional process.

January 24, 2012 0 comment

UCLA and the World

The Revolution Unveiled

written by thegeneration

By Laila Afifi

The unremitting sounds of gunfire shatter the silence of the night, followed by the thud of heavy footsteps as my neighbors in the apartment above run toward their balcony. My first instinct is to do the same, yet as I pull open the balcony door the smell of burnt tree branches and smoke coming from the fire at the corner of the street flood my nostrils. For a mere minute I am taken to another continent, to a different country, where the smell of a burning fire brings back memories of roasting marshmallows for s’mores during my Girl Scout campouts. Yet the husky voices of men yelling and metal chains scraping against the pavement shake me out of my entranced state. Welcome to my nightmare, round one.

Just as I thought things were moving on, I was proven wrong. It was February, a month well past the Egyptian revolution, and so I had put back the kitchen scissors and knives that had, for weeks, lay on the dining table, moved the broom stick away from the apartment door, and finally turned off the night-light in the hall. And as I sat watching TV on a Thursday evening, absorbed in my own world of happy thoughts, it was as though time had chosen to go backwards and I was pulled into a nightmare that I had hoped to never experience.

Over the loud movie that was playing rose the deep shouts of men; so loud you could hear sounds but couldn’t comprehend the words. They clustered together in two large groups clearly one against the other, for what reason or cause remains unknown. They were armed with knives, large metal poles, and chains. Sudden gunfire shattered what, minutes before, had been a silent night. My heart started to pound as I ran back inside the apartment and shut the balcony door. Minutes later as more rounds of gunfire were heard. As people from the neighborhood started to make their way towards these rebellious groups, I ran for the phone. I dialed number after number of emergency hotlines and landlines that I had taken down during the revolution yet they were either busy or disconnected. I rushed back to the window, worried not for my safety as much as for my car. There it stood, less than a year old, in the middle of the two quarreling groups. What if they broke the glass while fighting? What if they decided to steal it? Would I ever find my car again? It might seem ridiculous to be fretting over the car, but the thought persisted. At the same time, however, I started to feel a sense of anger and frustration boiling within me. I started jumping up and down and yelling. I was frustrated and stressed. Why should a handful of armed thugs who were fighting for a cause far from justifiable, have the capability to disrupt a neighborhood? Did they have the right to create panic and fear for those residing in the street? And where was the police to stop them and put an end to all this unrest?

Yet, I guess this is the aftermath of overthrowing a thirty year regime that ruled with an iron fist and put people far past their state of comfort under the emergency laws. These are just some of the aftershocks as thugs desperately attempt to latch on to the last bits of anarchy as the country tries to regain its stability and security. Petty disputes that will momentarily blow out of proportion, violence, and chaos are sure to plague the nation for quite some time.

So where does the solution lie? Given, of course, that I am no social or political expert, it seems logical however to assume that when and only when all the convicts who have fled their fate are put back where they belong and until all those who believe they can run away from the law face it head on, will anarchy finally end and the country slowly regain a sense of safety and security.

With all the social and economic unrest that currently grips the nation, are we a step closer to the freedom and democracy that we resiliently fought for? Today, Egypt lies in a state of blunder; high-schools and colleges have gotten more “vacation” time than they bargained for, hundreds who used to make a decent earning, fed their families, and kept a roof over their heads now find themselves unemployed and unable to make ends meet. Convicts wander the streets of Egypt, police presence is limited, and the stock market has entered into another month of hibernation. This hardly seems close to the ideal state of democracy that 80 million people envisioned. And yet, we are currently treading between two worlds, the past and the present–treading in what many have deemed as a state of transition.

Egypt is desperately trying to keep its head above water. The massive sea of Egyptians, once united in the millions to oust the old regime, are now factionalized with different demands. While the upper strata yearn for a transparent government, the lower classes hope for a rise in the minimum wages and the provision of their basic needs, needs. And so I wonder, what does a democratic Egypt mean to you? To me?

The reality is that democracy even in the most “free” of nations has limits and that the pillars and values on which it is founded are violated behind closed doors as their people remain oblivious. That is why it is imperative that Egyptians remain united, to bring together their ideas for a democratic nation and to ensure that these ideals are the building blocks with which the state is to be recreated. Yet, some might argue that people are doing just that as they continue to swarm into Tahrir Square to protest, and call on the army and transitional government. Others see these continued protests as a barricade holding the nation back and preventing the army from beginning reforms. So what are we to do? Demonstrate regardless? Give the army the necessary time to sift through thirty years of corruption and injustice? I wish I knew the answer or had the necessary political and social academic expertise to provide one. But, speaking simply as an Egyptian national, I conclude that finding a balance between the two options seems to be the most logical and reasonable solution.

Out of the many text messages that the army has sent, their latest one held a considerable amount of truth and value. Loosely translated, it read, “We’ve waited thirty years, so what’s the harm in waiting a little longer for us to provide you with the better.”

Patience always seems to be the key, but in our case I don’t believe patience means sitting along the sidelines, allowing the army to take matters into its own hands while the population loses its drive, momentum, and patriotism. I believe that patience is the ability to realize when we need to leave the army to do what is has to do and when the people need to mobilize themselves for a million man march that has a justifiable and noteworthy purpose. This is not to say that those still gathering in Tahrir Square have petty demands. On the contrary, it’s about realizing that at some point in time, despite the hurt, anger, and mistrust that three decades of a flawed regime have engraved in its people, we must once again learn to have faith, hope, and put our trust in the government. We must understand that doing so, at least for now, is the most feasible and enduring solution for moving forward. The people of Egypt have let their voices be heard and shown the world their determination and iron wills. This leads me believe that the coming government will think twice before doing something that is deemed unjust or flawed. If Egyptians continue to recognize their power and strength, the coming government will too.

Democracy isn’t simple. It isn’t a math equation that can be memorized, nor is it a science experiment that can be recreated in a lab. Rather, transitioning to democracy and the process of laying down its foundations is like an earthquake. It unexpectedly shakes the nation. Destruction and devastation is the aftermath as people, infrastructure, and the ruling regime crumble. Sifting through the rubble, we come face to face with pain, loss, anxiety, and violence, which become just a handful of the repercussions as we attempt to overcome the shock of the quake. In an effort to move forward, we pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and start rebuilding. Yet, after an earthquake people undeniably hope to see something brighter. While 80 million Egyptians hope to see a brighter path, each in their own way, I hope to see us rising from the rubble once again – stronger , fearless, and empowered like never before.

Laila Afifi is a senior studying at the American University in Cairo.

May 11, 2011 3 comments