Twitter, Islamists and Stereotypes

The Islamists Cometh was the original headline to this blog entry, as my first draft was set against a backdrop of rage. 


Before going to Tahrir's last Millionia (a million protest) on Jul 29, I did a quick hashtag search of the word Tahrir on Twitter, to get the latest updates from activists and journalists on the ground. 

As I read some of the #Tahrir messages, I came across a specific tweet, that prompted this blog entry. It was by a (female) journalist who tweeted: 

"Interesting that salafis apparently wanted their voice heard today, yet many of those I approached refused to talk to me." 

After reading this tweet, I went to the square expecting to encounter the same type of brush off, but my experience of Tahrir was very different to that of the journalist in question. Every Islamist I approached, spoke to me. 

I was angry that a single tweet had sent out to the world, a presumptuous message that reconfirmed one of many negative stereotypes associated with Islam these days. In defence of the journalist, I have no idea of the surrounding circumstances that led to her opinion. 


But the point I'm trying to make is about Twitter and its power to exaggerate the truth. One tweet can be equaled to one pixel. One tweet can impossibly tell a complete story, just as one pixel can impossibly provide a full image. 

As I arrived in Tahrir, I watched Islamist groups flex their muscles in a show of strength, vis-à-vis the secular political groups, who suddenly seemed to disappear like a speck of sand in a large arena. I was angry at that.

Although I arrived in the early evening when the Millionia was no longer in full throttle, I saw a Tahrir I no longer recognised. It conjured an image of an Islamic fundamentalist state that I didn't identify with. 


The representation of Islam as an absolutist political ideology had successfully added to the pool of negative imagery surrounding Islam in the media. I was angry at that.

Tension was in the air and it felt like a classic "us" versus "them."

After overcoming my rage, I acknowledged that I didn't want to fall into the trappings of Islamist typecasting; Islamic fundamentalist groups like the Salafis of Egypt are portrayed as evil. 


I also dislike the term Islamist, as it is dangerously generalist.


As I began approaching salafis, I realised the action of talking to each woman and man individually helped breakdown a wall, brick by brick. I also recognised this process would require more than a single afternoon in Tahrir.

My final encounter was with a young Salafi doctor in his 20s/30s, who left an impression on me. He was mild spoken and eloquent. He belonged to the Salafyo Costa movement, a group of young Salafis keen on breaking down some of the prejudices against them. Salafis drink cappuccinos too.

If I had the right to stand in Tahrir, so did they. If I had the right to express my opinion, so did they. But the question left on my mind was, if Islamic fundamentalists were in power, would they tolerate my right to stand there too?

In less than 140 characters

Today I was trying to formulate the idea of the documentary in less than 140 characters. The discipline of tweeting will force me to convey my message in a sentence. I salute Twitter!

The documentary is starting to take shape. Today on my 6th version of my proposal, I realised writing about it here in Cairo is a very different experience to writing about it in London. No matter how well informed you are about a situation when afar, being there on the ground, experiencing it and then writing about it as it happens, can't be underestimated.

My reality of events in Cairo is very different to what it was in London.

I feel I'm here with my feet on the ground. I'm interacting with people, watching local television, discussing politics and the news, drinking Sahlab in a street café in downtown Cairo, laughing at how ridiculous things were, how tragic they were, before Mubarak's departure. My perspective seems to be more solid. The longer I'm here, the more natural it seems.

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.