What would you do if you were President of Egypt?

A friend asked me yesterday what I'd do if I were in charge of the country. I've always found questions that begin with "what if?"exciting. What if you won the lottery? What if you could live for a thousand years? What if you were president of Egypt?

My reply was, if I was in charge, "The people would be the red line." It's a sentiment I've often heard people chant during marches in Tahrir, reflecting people's desire to see Egypt's citizens treated with respect and dignity. 

My policies would put people at the heart of all its programmes ensuring the main pillars of the revolution were developed. I'd also ensure that the government, democratically elected every term, served the country and not the other way around. To see that happen, I'd start off with a constitution that stated on its cover in bold "الشعب خط احمر" that "The people are the red line." The constitution would be sealed in gold with the aim of always upholding "Freedom, Dignity and Social Justice."

My Egyptian utopia would be overseen democratically by three departments charged with fulfilling the revolution continuously. I'd hire ministers tasked with heading up these departments.

Freedom: A minister of human rights would ensure people's freedoms were safeguarded. We'd see an Egypt where citizens were treated equally no matter what their gender, ethnic, religious or sexual background. All Egyptians would be equal in front of the law. Egyptians would no longer have to live in fear of retribution for expressing their views. Police brutality would no longer be tolerated. Police officers would receive a respectable place in society again thanks to their citizen respecting philosophies. The law would encourage mutual respect.

Dignity: A minister of anti-corruption would be tasked to clean up politics, media, business and the justice system. It would ensure the abuse of power was no longer feasible. The main foundation for that would have to be a fair independent justice system. The clean up would ensure corruption was no longer tolerated offering people equal opportunities and a dignified status as citizens of Egypt.

Social Justice: A minister of development would implement policies and programmes promoting a modern 21st century economy, where jobs, education, healthcare, farming, technology, tourism and the environment were advanced with social justice at the core.

Finally, Tahrir would always serve as a place for reflection and protest ensuring those in power are held accountable.

Humanity

Although I'd been to Tahrir numerous times over the course of the summer, this time round Tahrir was a different place to contend with. There are certain images that will stay in my mind forever. They're not the kind of graphic images that we have become accustomed to through countless YouTube postings and news reports, but the kind that inspire humanity

The first image was that of the countless volunteer doctors helping the wounded in Tahrir. Working in makeshift hospitals on pavements around the square, they cared for their patients in the dark with little more than flashlights to guide them.

The second memory was that of the volunteer motorcycle drivers, transporting the injured with a high sense of urgency through the crowds from Mohamed Mahmoud Street to the makeshift hospitals.

But one image will last forever. It's the image of those enthusiastic youths, with hearts of lions, prepared to sacrifice their lives for the sake of Egypt's freedom.

Freedom from Fear

A blog post called: "Why do we care about Alaa more than Maikel,"  spurred me to write this entry as I've been following the case of Maikel Nabil Sanad often wondering why his case did not garner the same type of support locally that the international scene afforded him. This was even more evident when he was locked up in a mental institution and even then, I did not see a large outcry for his freedom.


To understand Maikel Nabil's case better I read some excerpts from his blog entries and as in the above post, I too concluded that reluctant support for him might be down to the fact that he had voiced opinions too controversial for some to accept (loosely in his pro Israel stance, his campaign against compulsory military conscription and finally his vociferous critique of the army). 


But while the crux of the problem probably lies in some people's inability to accept other views in the context of free expression, I would add another factor to the mix that might explain the sensitivity around Maikel Nabil's case. I would argue that fear is another factor.


The freedom to express one's opinions without fear of retribution by those in power, is not to be underestimated. It's a truth I have sometimes felt. Maikel Nabil was imprisonned for three years by a military court, sending out a strong signal that if a red line is crossed, the price might be one's freedom. It's a precarious situation that might explain why people are disengaged. 

If Maikel Nabil is not set free, it will set a dangerous precedent. For after that, who will guarantee that the next voice is not silenced and the next and the next? If a climate of fear is harboured as a result of it, where does that leave freedom? 

The Caged Bird Sings of Freedom

Caged Bird

by Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps

on the back of the wind   

and floats downstream   

till the current ends

and dips his wing

in the orange sun rays

and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage

can seldom see through

his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and   

his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings   

with a fearful trill   

of things unknown   

but longed for still   

and his tune is heard   

on the distant hill   

for the caged bird   

sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn

and he names the sky his own

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams   

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream   

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied   

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings   

with a fearful trill   

of things unknown   

but longed for still   

and his tune is heard   

on the distant hill   

for the caged bird   

sings of freedom.

Voices speak out for Freedom

"We the people are the thin red line,

We the people are the thin red line,
We are not afraid,

We are not afraid,

We hate the silent voice,

We hate the silent voice,

We are not afraid,

We are not afraid,

We hate the silent voice"

A Peaceful march was held from Tahrir to the Cabient of Ministers on Sep 19, 2011. 

The sign held by crowd reads: No to Emergency, No to Military Trials, No to Law Criminalising Strikes

Proud Mom in Tahrir on July 8

This is an unedited clip of an interview with a mom I met in Tahrir, in a women's tent.

Translation:

Mom: I'm a mom here, not one of these young women. I'm from the former generation. I'm very proud. It's not a matter of girl or boy now. A girl now is better than a boy or equal to a boy, in her thinking, her mind, her freedom. We didn't succeed in the past, yes, to change the system or to bring freedom to the country, but we were able to bring up an alert and strong generation. A generation that knows its demands, knows its freedom. They defended us and they got us our rights. So there's no difference between a girl or a boy.

I: It's great to see a girls' tent and girls taking part in the revolution.

Mom: Girls and women. Like I told you, I'm a mom here. I'm a girl's mom here.

I: Are you not worried? Are you not scared?

Mom: I was scared, and she showed me how not to be scared. I didn't teach her not to be scared. She taught me how to break the barrier of fear. Thanks to her I realise, time and life passed, and I regret I did not turn out like my daughter. I thank God that my daughter did not turn out like me. She turned out stronger than me and better than me. And she will obtain Egypt's rights. Her and all the youths like her.

End Sexual Harassment #EndSH

Nazra for Feminist Studies' session last Tuesday in collaboration with HarassMap on sexual harassment and gender violence, which had started off as a blogger and tweeting event the day before encouraging people to post their thoughts and experiences, underlined one of the issues facing women in Egypt today,  the fear of harassment. 


A woman from the working class segment once told me, veiling invites respect and is likely to ward off transgression. She put the onus of responsibility against harassment on women. 


But I think the onus for change, should be put on society as a whole. Women should feel free to walk the streets.


During Tuesday's session some women talked about the need for women to act less passively. There was talk of the need to respond back verbally or physically. One woman felt violence leading to violence was not a solution.


It's a complex matter, but a first step is an acknowledgement of the issue through discussions like the one hosted by Nazra.


Some people feel the blogosphere has narrow reach. According to a stat that I found on the internet, 21% of Egypt's population is on the internet. This might seem like limited reach, but it's a start and I observed that a number of TV channels were at Tuesday's event, therefore helping raise awareness. 


Blogging in English might seem limited, but I think collectively these individual conversations can lead to a raising of consciousness.


Some people claim now is not the time to raise this issue as the country faces more pertinent challenges. But as one woman said, we didn't change society in 18 days and now is the time to rebuild Egyptian society with better values. She said, the personal is politics and society doesn't improve through laws and political parties alone.


A blogger wrote: "Blogging and tweeting about it is a start but more importantly it should be discussed offline too. With the neighbours, shop-owners, taxi-drivers and the random person you chat with in the street.  Convincing 1 person every day and things will change. Start today." 


I'd also hope to see the day where schools, places of work and worship would embrace the concept of no harassment to help raise awareness on a wider scale.


If this becomes part of the national dialogue, it will help build a society where harassment is no longer accepted as a normalised part of life.

The Gates to the Lion's Den

So here I am in Cairo, a few months after Mubarak's demise realising that I haven't got the "no fear" fortification that many Egyptians have built in recent months.

It's led to self-censorship. Hearing of journalists' arrests hasn't helped.

In a way, I've parachuted myself into a situation without the required antibodies. I might feel a heightened sense of fear, in some situations.

The first test was presented to me a few days ago. I found out on Twitter about a protest that was being organised in solidarity with journalist Rasha Azab on Monday 20th of June. Rasha Azab had been summoned for questioning by the Military Prosecutor, accused of publishing false information. A group of activists decided to stand with her in solidarity. I wasn't sure if I'd go.

After much indecision, I decided to go. I felt like I was planning to go towards the gates to the lion's den.

I arrived at around midday to find a small protest of less than 50 or so people gathered outside the Military Court of the 10th District of Nasr City, a suburb in Cairo. Activists, journalists, television crew, pedestrians and a man with a cart selling termis (lupins), were gathered outside the gates to the Court. Another small detail I noticed, a man drinking water from an ulla (clay vessel) from the cart. Things looked fine.

I recognised some of the faces. People I didn't know personally, but who I'd seen on the international news or on the blog circuit. I felt less on my own.

As I started filming, I was approached by a man who had an army like shirt on. He advised me not to point the camera in the direction of the court. Apparently an officer had come out earlier to the gathered group and advised them of this protocol. Something I had missed. The man's attire led me to believe he was an officer reprimanding me. My fear had blinded me. He was in fact a journalist. In my eagerness to film an "establishing shot," I realised how clumsy I'd been.

I stayed on for a couple of hours, interviewed a couple of people and left home pleased that I hadn't missed this event and I felt like I'd built a bit of strength.

Meanwhile the journalist in question was released. For further detail, see Al-Masry Al-Youm article.