Replacing the whitewashed walls in Tahrir Square on the corner of Mohamed Mahmoud Street:
Monday, May 28, 2012
PolicyMic: US Should Cooperate with Muslim Brotherhood Candidate Mohamed Morsy If He Wins
Mohamed Morsy’s presumed first place finish in the preliminary round of Egypt’s presidential election paves the way for the most substantial democratic victory for the Muslim Brotherhood, and the entire Islamist movement, since its founding in 1928. As the successor to ousted president Hosni Mubarak comes into slightly more focus, many are wondering how a Morsy victory would affect U.S.-Egypt relations. more
Saturday, May 26, 2012
PolicyMic: Egypt Presidential Elections 2012: Results Still Unpredictable
For the past two days, millions of Egyptians have flocked to local schools to cast their votes in the first free and fair presidential elections in their country’s history.
Now that polls have closed, citizens are waiting with baited breath for the results that could determine the success of the revolution. The atmosphere recalls, but certainly surpasses, the national mood of anticipation accompanying the release of thanawwiya amma exam results, which students take in these very schools to determine their academic and professional futures. more
Thursday, May 24, 2012
PolicyMic: Islamist or Mubarak Regime? Egypt Presidential Elections is About a Vision, Not a President
When Egyptians go to the polls today and tomorrow, they will vote not so much for a president as for a set of ideas. Among the five candidates with a reasonable chance of victory, there are just two clear and viable visions for the new Egypt — Islamist or felool (former regime). Thus in many ways, this race can be seen as a judgment of the former regime and a trial for the untested Islamist paradigm. more
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Graffiti Update: Can't Touch This!
You've got to be quick with the camera in Cairo these days. Beautiful graffiti goes up one day and is painted over the next. Check out this election-appropriate artwork which I saw for the first time six days ago. It depicts an anonymous general with a sinister grin and a skull and cross bones insignia pulling with his bony, claw-like fingers the strings of the presidential candidate marionettes who are depicted wearing suits, waving their hands and without heads!
This image is on the wall of the American University in Cairo campus, across the street from Hardee's and on the corner of Tahrir Square. To the right of the main image, there still appears the split faces of former President Hosni Mubarak and current Field Marshall Tantawi below the sarcastic phrase, the revolution continues. That image has been around for months. And just around the corner, there is an epic mural depicting a battle scene from ancient Egyptian mythology and meant to be a metaphor for the turmoil and struggle that modern Egypt is undergoing.
All these images, however, were removed recently, as can be seen in the image below which was taken yesterday. I didn't see who repainted the wall, but word has it they were on the government's tab, as has happened before on this street.
Optimistically, the street artists have not missed a beat as they returned to the now fresh canvas with more critical imagery. The image below is in the place where the battle scene once was.
The images are caustic, the artists resilient and the metaphor poignant. Use your weapons of oppression, we will use our tools of expression. Tell us no, we will say why not? Whitewash our art, we will paint something new. It's certainly not every Egyptian's attitude--and there are definitely those who despise the graffiti on this street--but it's one of the voices of the ongoing revolution striving to hold on to the dream of a free society.
The first round of presidential elections begins tomorrow, and it's all anyone can talk about. I'm collecting my thoughts for a pre-election post tonight, and then I'll be in different neighborhoods tomorrow and the next day getting a sense for how the first competitive elections in this great civilization's history will go.
This image is on the wall of the American University in Cairo campus, across the street from Hardee's and on the corner of Tahrir Square. To the right of the main image, there still appears the split faces of former President Hosni Mubarak and current Field Marshall Tantawi below the sarcastic phrase, the revolution continues. That image has been around for months. And just around the corner, there is an epic mural depicting a battle scene from ancient Egyptian mythology and meant to be a metaphor for the turmoil and struggle that modern Egypt is undergoing.
All these images, however, were removed recently, as can be seen in the image below which was taken yesterday. I didn't see who repainted the wall, but word has it they were on the government's tab, as has happened before on this street.
Optimistically, the street artists have not missed a beat as they returned to the now fresh canvas with more critical imagery. The image below is in the place where the battle scene once was.
The images are caustic, the artists resilient and the metaphor poignant. Use your weapons of oppression, we will use our tools of expression. Tell us no, we will say why not? Whitewash our art, we will paint something new. It's certainly not every Egyptian's attitude--and there are definitely those who despise the graffiti on this street--but it's one of the voices of the ongoing revolution striving to hold on to the dream of a free society.
The first round of presidential elections begins tomorrow, and it's all anyone can talk about. I'm collecting my thoughts for a pre-election post tonight, and then I'll be in different neighborhoods tomorrow and the next day getting a sense for how the first competitive elections in this great civilization's history will go.
Friday, May 18, 2012
The First Presidential Debate in Egypt!
A week ago, the two candidates polling the highest in Egypt's upcoming presidential elections faced off in the first ever televised debate of its kind in the nation's history. Former foreign minister and Arab League president Amr Moussa barbed with former Muslim Brotherhood leader Abdel Moneim Aboul Fotouh for nearly four hours on a range of mostly general issues. I watched the debate in downtown Cairo's open-air Borsa cafe, a few hundred meters from Tahrir Square, and contributed reporting to this New York Times piece by David Kirkpatrick.
The debate started half an hour late--Aboul Fotouh was reportedly held up by Cairo's notorious traffic--and followed nearly two hours of pre-debate commentary by a handful of Egyptian media personalities. A comparison was drawn to the first televised presidential debate in the United States in 1960 between Kennedy and Nixon, and of course as a political junkie, comparisons to other debates in the America and Europe were at the back of my mind all night.
The Borsa Cafe--named after the stock exchange which is located beside it--is a maze of pedestrian walkways twisting between beautiful Belle Epoque apartment buildings. Cafes on the ground floors serve outdoor seating areas that blend seamlessly into one another. Dozens of young Egyptian men skirt around the tightly packed plastic tables to bring guests non-alcoholic drinks and water pipes to patrons who range from large groups of young shabab to middle aged couples to old men. The cafe is liveliest on evenings like this, after a hot day, and especially when there is a big event like a football match.
I pulled up a plastic lawn chair in front of a 40 inch flat screen TV and huge speakers rigged up in the middle of a cobblestone path. Seated behind a 30-something year old man and his veiled but opinionated wife and beside a group of university-aged men, I listened as much to their commentary as to the debate itself. Similar crowds had gathered around other television sets nearby, and the difference in timing between one channel's broadcast and another's created an echo of the candidates' speech. It was easy from this perspective, though, to gauge the reaction of a large audience.
Though there are about five top tier candidates, this debate featured just two of them. A young man in my seating area didn't mind much. Asked if he would prefer to see more candidates on the stage at the same time, he said he was satisfied for now with the fact that there was any debate at all and expected to see other candidates pair off in future debates. He's right to be modest; the idea of two people debating in public their credentials for the top job in the nation and thousands of others watching and commenting was unthinkable two years ago. Despite the shortcomings and false promises of the revolution, the barrier of fear has widely been broken.
The debate was split into four quarters, each one featuring three questions addressed to both candidates and then an opportunity for each candidate to pose a question directly to the other one and a response. Most of the pre-arranged questions were soft balls that gave the candidates the opportunity to expand on their stump speeches. The fun came with cross examination!
The sharpest and most repeated points of contention were Aboul Fotouh's claim that Moussa was part of the old Mubarak regime (he endorsed Mubarak for reelection in 2010) and Moussa's claim that Aboul Fotouh was a double personality--a violent Islamist and a peaceful liberal. Aboul Fotouh painted himself as a true opposition figure who was imprisoned and tortured under Mubarak's regime, in whose service Moussa was an employee for several decades. Moussa said he set his own policy as foreign minister, boasted his extensive experience in government, and accused Aboul Fotouh of duplicity. Aboul Fotouh also hits Moussa for having a weaker sense of Islamic law.
After an hour and a half of what had become a tedious back and forth, there was a merciful halftime break during which many of the viewers in the Borsa left. Most people cannot bear to watch more than half an hour of any political debate, so I give credit to the folks who watched the entire first hour and a half. They didn't end up missing much, as the candidates kept hammering home the same few points. By the time the second half ended at nearly 2am, Borsa was nearly empty with just a handful of men still gathered around the televisions. One TV had been switched back to the regular programming of scantily clad women in music videos.
Though there were a few questions on important issues like minimum wages, the debate focused largely on values issues: who's more revolutionary and who's more Islamic? There are major challenges facing the country right now, but the matter of national identity is still crowding them out. The revolution didn't settle that identity issue and it's unlikely that the election will either, but it's still all anyone seems to want to talk about.
As I was leaving the cafe, I asked a few of the stragglers who they thought had won. They both lost! one man responded. Another viewer, a student in Al Azhar University's journalism school and an Aboul Fotouh supporter, said he thought his candidate had done well but not as well as he expected. A third guy told me the debate hadn't resolved much. Whoever was going to vote for Moussa still would, and whoever was going to vote for Aboul Fotouh still would. Those who were undecided might lean more towards Aboul Fotouh, but there's still so much time to decide.
It seems most people are waiting until the last minute to make up their mind. The clock is ticking...
The debate started half an hour late--Aboul Fotouh was reportedly held up by Cairo's notorious traffic--and followed nearly two hours of pre-debate commentary by a handful of Egyptian media personalities. A comparison was drawn to the first televised presidential debate in the United States in 1960 between Kennedy and Nixon, and of course as a political junkie, comparisons to other debates in the America and Europe were at the back of my mind all night.
The Borsa Cafe--named after the stock exchange which is located beside it--is a maze of pedestrian walkways twisting between beautiful Belle Epoque apartment buildings. Cafes on the ground floors serve outdoor seating areas that blend seamlessly into one another. Dozens of young Egyptian men skirt around the tightly packed plastic tables to bring guests non-alcoholic drinks and water pipes to patrons who range from large groups of young shabab to middle aged couples to old men. The cafe is liveliest on evenings like this, after a hot day, and especially when there is a big event like a football match.
I pulled up a plastic lawn chair in front of a 40 inch flat screen TV and huge speakers rigged up in the middle of a cobblestone path. Seated behind a 30-something year old man and his veiled but opinionated wife and beside a group of university-aged men, I listened as much to their commentary as to the debate itself. Similar crowds had gathered around other television sets nearby, and the difference in timing between one channel's broadcast and another's created an echo of the candidates' speech. It was easy from this perspective, though, to gauge the reaction of a large audience.
Though there are about five top tier candidates, this debate featured just two of them. A young man in my seating area didn't mind much. Asked if he would prefer to see more candidates on the stage at the same time, he said he was satisfied for now with the fact that there was any debate at all and expected to see other candidates pair off in future debates. He's right to be modest; the idea of two people debating in public their credentials for the top job in the nation and thousands of others watching and commenting was unthinkable two years ago. Despite the shortcomings and false promises of the revolution, the barrier of fear has widely been broken.
The debate was split into four quarters, each one featuring three questions addressed to both candidates and then an opportunity for each candidate to pose a question directly to the other one and a response. Most of the pre-arranged questions were soft balls that gave the candidates the opportunity to expand on their stump speeches. The fun came with cross examination!
The sharpest and most repeated points of contention were Aboul Fotouh's claim that Moussa was part of the old Mubarak regime (he endorsed Mubarak for reelection in 2010) and Moussa's claim that Aboul Fotouh was a double personality--a violent Islamist and a peaceful liberal. Aboul Fotouh painted himself as a true opposition figure who was imprisoned and tortured under Mubarak's regime, in whose service Moussa was an employee for several decades. Moussa said he set his own policy as foreign minister, boasted his extensive experience in government, and accused Aboul Fotouh of duplicity. Aboul Fotouh also hits Moussa for having a weaker sense of Islamic law.
After an hour and a half of what had become a tedious back and forth, there was a merciful halftime break during which many of the viewers in the Borsa left. Most people cannot bear to watch more than half an hour of any political debate, so I give credit to the folks who watched the entire first hour and a half. They didn't end up missing much, as the candidates kept hammering home the same few points. By the time the second half ended at nearly 2am, Borsa was nearly empty with just a handful of men still gathered around the televisions. One TV had been switched back to the regular programming of scantily clad women in music videos.
Though there were a few questions on important issues like minimum wages, the debate focused largely on values issues: who's more revolutionary and who's more Islamic? There are major challenges facing the country right now, but the matter of national identity is still crowding them out. The revolution didn't settle that identity issue and it's unlikely that the election will either, but it's still all anyone seems to want to talk about.
As I was leaving the cafe, I asked a few of the stragglers who they thought had won. They both lost! one man responded. Another viewer, a student in Al Azhar University's journalism school and an Aboul Fotouh supporter, said he thought his candidate had done well but not as well as he expected. A third guy told me the debate hadn't resolved much. Whoever was going to vote for Moussa still would, and whoever was going to vote for Aboul Fotouh still would. Those who were undecided might lean more towards Aboul Fotouh, but there's still so much time to decide.
It seems most people are waiting until the last minute to make up their mind. The clock is ticking...
Friday, May 4, 2012
Are Egyptians forced to protest?
It's early Friday morning, my favorite time to be awake in Cairo. The streets are empty, the birds are chirping (yes, there are birds even downtown), and the air is cool and breezy. I've opened the doors to my shallow balcony to let in some fresh air while I write a final paper, and then I wondered how long I have until the chants from Tahrir become too loud for me to ignore.
The past week has been marked again by excessive violence and death in Cairo. Last Friday night, I watched from the sidewalk of Talat Harb Street as protesters from Tahrir (mostly supporters of disqualified Islamist candidate Hazem Abu Ismail) marched to the Ministry of Defense in Abbasiya. A few hours later, they arrived and, according to reports, were attacked by neighborhood thugs and plainclothes policemen. Revolutionary youth soon joined their Islamist compatriots in solidarity.
This has happened before in this same location. According to an account by Ahdaf Soueif in her new book, Cairo: My City, Our Revolution, protesters went to the Ministry of Defense weeks after the fall of Mubarak to protest SCAF. There they were met with rocks, bottles and clubs from angry residents and government-funded thugs. Soldiers looked on passively as Egyptian killed Egyptian, intervening only days later.
The story this week seems much the same, except for the first time the majority of the protesters are Islamists and the Islamist politicians (Brotherhoods, Salafis, etc) are for the first time condemning the violence and the state neglect, whereas they turned a blind eye to the same conduct for the past year when mainly secular Egyptians were dying in the streets.
The military intervened the day before yesterday, and within minutes the violence stopped--which begs the question why they didn't intervene earlier. (Perhaps they adopt the boys-will-be-boys approach to nation rearing.) There is a clear pattern to these extended violent episodes. A peaceful protest turns to an exchange of rocks and tear gas. The ante is upped by protesters with Molotov cocktails and by police with bird shot and eventually live ammunition. Infiltrators attack protesters with clubs and knives before protesters detain them (somehow, mercifully, without killing them). News of the violence spreads, disrupting traffic and local business, stealing from ordinary Egyptians any dwindling hope for stability, and often attracting apolitical sympathizers to the protesters' cause. After a few days, the military rolls in, arrests a few civilians for instigating violence, talks about the foreign hand, and warns anyone from attacking the army.
When these things happen, the next logical question is, what will happen on Friday? Since January 28, 2011, the first Friday of Rage that sparked the Egyptian revolution, Fridays have been the most common day for protest because the country has the day off and most people gather at mosques at midday. Often, the big issues of the week will hang around to be resolved by the size of the Friday turnout in Tahrir. After the army cleared a three-week sit-in in Tahrir last summer, Friday protests became irregular in occurrence and size. But they still play an important role in the mostly peaceful resistance to the military regime.
What strikes me today is whether Egyptians are protesting of their own volition or whether they have been overtaken by the political momentum of their actions. SCAF announced yesterday their continued intention to transfer power to an elected president by July 1 (or the end of May even, if someone wins 50% of the vote in the first round) and warned anyone from approaching their headquarters in Abbasiya. Granted, protesters have no reason to trust SCAF given that they have amended decisions like this in the past and have just spent the week passively watching Egyptians kill each other.
Nonetheless, the talk on Twitter this morning indicates that protesters will gather (not clear yet whether in Tahrir, Abbasiya or somewhere else) to demand that SCAF stick to its July 1 timetable. The question thus begs to be answered, why protest in demand of something that has already been conceded, promised and re-promised? The only explanation I can reason is that an expectation has been set in these sorts of situations for massive popular turnout, and if that is not achieved, the opposition movement is weakened in the face of the regime.
Many Egyptians are rightfully upset by the week's events, worried that the past year and a half of violence and instability might come to naught, and doubtful of SCAF's true intentions; they are, of course, entitled to protest. But do they really want to, or are they being forced to by circumstances?
As I finish writing, the chants in Tahrir have begun: "Revolution! Revolution!" "Down, down with military rule!" "The people want the implementation of God's law!" From my balcony, they are interspersed with occasional car horns, the sound of early bird shopowners rolling down the metal doors of their storefronts, and the calls of the junk man: "Bikya! Bikya!" (From the Italian, vecchio, or old stuff!) The Friday routine begins...
The past week has been marked again by excessive violence and death in Cairo. Last Friday night, I watched from the sidewalk of Talat Harb Street as protesters from Tahrir (mostly supporters of disqualified Islamist candidate Hazem Abu Ismail) marched to the Ministry of Defense in Abbasiya. A few hours later, they arrived and, according to reports, were attacked by neighborhood thugs and plainclothes policemen. Revolutionary youth soon joined their Islamist compatriots in solidarity.
This has happened before in this same location. According to an account by Ahdaf Soueif in her new book, Cairo: My City, Our Revolution, protesters went to the Ministry of Defense weeks after the fall of Mubarak to protest SCAF. There they were met with rocks, bottles and clubs from angry residents and government-funded thugs. Soldiers looked on passively as Egyptian killed Egyptian, intervening only days later.
The story this week seems much the same, except for the first time the majority of the protesters are Islamists and the Islamist politicians (Brotherhoods, Salafis, etc) are for the first time condemning the violence and the state neglect, whereas they turned a blind eye to the same conduct for the past year when mainly secular Egyptians were dying in the streets.
The military intervened the day before yesterday, and within minutes the violence stopped--which begs the question why they didn't intervene earlier. (Perhaps they adopt the boys-will-be-boys approach to nation rearing.) There is a clear pattern to these extended violent episodes. A peaceful protest turns to an exchange of rocks and tear gas. The ante is upped by protesters with Molotov cocktails and by police with bird shot and eventually live ammunition. Infiltrators attack protesters with clubs and knives before protesters detain them (somehow, mercifully, without killing them). News of the violence spreads, disrupting traffic and local business, stealing from ordinary Egyptians any dwindling hope for stability, and often attracting apolitical sympathizers to the protesters' cause. After a few days, the military rolls in, arrests a few civilians for instigating violence, talks about the foreign hand, and warns anyone from attacking the army.
When these things happen, the next logical question is, what will happen on Friday? Since January 28, 2011, the first Friday of Rage that sparked the Egyptian revolution, Fridays have been the most common day for protest because the country has the day off and most people gather at mosques at midday. Often, the big issues of the week will hang around to be resolved by the size of the Friday turnout in Tahrir. After the army cleared a three-week sit-in in Tahrir last summer, Friday protests became irregular in occurrence and size. But they still play an important role in the mostly peaceful resistance to the military regime.
What strikes me today is whether Egyptians are protesting of their own volition or whether they have been overtaken by the political momentum of their actions. SCAF announced yesterday their continued intention to transfer power to an elected president by July 1 (or the end of May even, if someone wins 50% of the vote in the first round) and warned anyone from approaching their headquarters in Abbasiya. Granted, protesters have no reason to trust SCAF given that they have amended decisions like this in the past and have just spent the week passively watching Egyptians kill each other.
Nonetheless, the talk on Twitter this morning indicates that protesters will gather (not clear yet whether in Tahrir, Abbasiya or somewhere else) to demand that SCAF stick to its July 1 timetable. The question thus begs to be answered, why protest in demand of something that has already been conceded, promised and re-promised? The only explanation I can reason is that an expectation has been set in these sorts of situations for massive popular turnout, and if that is not achieved, the opposition movement is weakened in the face of the regime.
Many Egyptians are rightfully upset by the week's events, worried that the past year and a half of violence and instability might come to naught, and doubtful of SCAF's true intentions; they are, of course, entitled to protest. But do they really want to, or are they being forced to by circumstances?
As I finish writing, the chants in Tahrir have begun: "Revolution! Revolution!" "Down, down with military rule!" "The people want the implementation of God's law!" From my balcony, they are interspersed with occasional car horns, the sound of early bird shopowners rolling down the metal doors of their storefronts, and the calls of the junk man: "Bikya! Bikya!" (From the Italian, vecchio, or old stuff!) The Friday routine begins...
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