10 YEARS LATER: WHY AND HOW EGYPT’S REVOLUTION FAILED

The brave men are brave The cowards are cowardly Come with the brave Together to the Square

T AHRIR, EGYPT: If one could assume the perspective of a bird wistfully flying above Tahrir Square during the 25th of January 2011, they would probably say that they mistook the gathering of protestors for the congregation of ants in an ant farm. Picture mothers, children, farmers, street vendors, all staggered painfully close to one another. All of them, whomever they are, amalgamating into one identity that echoed resistance, anguish and dissatisfaction with the status-quo. All of them viciously chanting the words at the top of the page. That was Midan al-Tahrir. These lyrics were inspired by the revolutionary poet Ahmed Fouad Negm, a man of the people, and a willful source of resistance against Mubarak’s regime. The message was strikingly

succinct, brutally powerful, yet ten years onwards signifies virtually nothing.

Ten years ago, Tahrir was a beacon of hope, and comprised the epicentre of what many considered to be an overdue revolution against the ruthless dictator, Hosni Mubarak. Beginning from the 25th January, mass crowds left designated mosques after prayer and joined forces with other protestors in public squares, the most notable of which being Midan al-Tahrir. Civilians performed occupations, sit-ins, demonstrations and marches in unprecedented numbers, whilst a game of cat and mouse kicked off between police

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forces and protestors in Cairo’s squares and backstreets. Outside of Cairo, and most predominantly in the Suez, Egyptian protestors attacked almost 84 police stations during the 18 days that ensued. Neil Ketchley, writer of Egypt in a Time of Revolution argues that Mubarak’s security forces were compromised by ongoing attacks on police stations, opening up a ‘security vacuum’ that allowed nonviolent protestors in Tahrir to coordinate and execute demonstrations in jaw-dropping numbers.

In 2021, though, cynicism takes over. It is obvious that the revolution did not culminate in democratic change, nor did it decrease corruption or restore freedom. Today, Abel

Al-Sisi continues his violent reign as the President of Egypt after grasping power 8 years ago from the unstable rule of the democratically elected Muslim Brotherhood. In some respect, the condition that Egyptians live under deteriorated further in the post-Mubarak era. Journalists are routinely persecuted, basic freedoms restricted, repression amplified, and economic conditions dire. So, was the 25th of January revolution even a revolution? Did it make an impact?

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Well, the 25th of January revolution initially appeared to be a resounding success. Bouazizi, mass groups began a wave of protests that ousted Mubarak as Egyptian Inspired by the courage of the Tunisian people and the self-immolation of Mohamed

President on the 11th of February 2011. It took a mere 18 days of protesting to dismantle

a remarkable 30 years of Mubarak’s rule. Crowds often used fraternization – the

attempt to friendly associate with an enemy or opposing group – as a means to protest

effectively. A popular chant was heard all around Egypt, emanating from Tahrir: The

army and the people are one hand!) (el-geysh we-l-shaʿb iyd wāhda!). Photos of elderly began circulating around social media. Protestors also began sleeping in the path and female protestors kissing soldiers of the Central Security Forces (CSF) during rallies

around the curvature of the wheels of tanks and other army vehicles. A Facebook trend

even gained traction, in which people took a photo with tanks and captioned it with

the sarcastic remark:

“I didn’t take a photograph next to the tank” (ana matsawartish ganb al-dabāba).

Yet, despite the movement’s success in pressuring Mubarak to resign, the democratic

transition that followed was an utter catastrophe. Muhammad Mursi and the Muslim

Brotherhood, who won Egypt’s first democratic elections, were rebuffed for being

opportunistic, politically inept, ideologically shallow, and organizationally poor. It only

took two years, until 2013, for Egypt to return to military rule; this time under Al-Sisi.

Following initial outcries of discontent at the Brotherhood’s leadership, Egypt’s Interior

Ministry and military forces seized the opportunity by spreading the Tammarod symbolically enough – in Midan al-Tahrir; denouncing Mursi’s rule and calling for new petition and encouraging citizens to take to the streets. Tammarod was launched –

presidential elections so that Egyptians can claim “the Revolution’s goals of bread,

freedom and social justice.” The military distanced itself from the Brotherhood, and

publicly professed that they would not disperse protestors, but rather encourage them

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1102 ,rirhaT ,sleehW knaT fo pot no gnipeelS naM A

to take to the streets and voice their discontent. The headline of the opposition newspaper al-Dostor professed: “Go into the streets for the army is with you and will protect you!”. And, sure enough, the streets were once again filled with protestors, this time chanting and screaming alongside the military rather than against it. Two years after, it was no longer Mubarak, but rather the Muslim Brotherhood that triggered nationwide protests. An astonishing 14 to 30 million protestors took to the streets, comprising of roughly 25 to 50 percent of Egypt’s adult population. On 3 July 2013, the military took power.

Now, Tahrir is different. As the New York Times coined in a recent article, Tahrir is now a field of broken dreams; it is an inescapable reminder of failure. Concrete has replaced the grassy circle where protests once took place, new lights were installed at every step, and security guards routinely stroll up and down the perimeter of the square. If one were to time travel from 2011 to today, the disparity in noise levels alone would be inconceivable. Whilst at one end of their trip through time they will have heard the raging unrest of half a million people, in 2021 they will likely encounter car horns and a

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disorderly traffic arrangement. Buildings have been repainted, trees planted, and four grandiose sphinxes from the ancient temple at Karnak now lay in the heart of the square; but this is simply an attempt to colour in the darkness. As an anti-coup activist in Neil Ketchley’s book Egypt in a Time of Revolution states:

“Squares are the symbol of the revolution. But now if you go there on a march, it’s a suicide mission. They fill the square with informants who report to security if more than ten people gather. So, we have made squares out of the side streets.” - 26 Feb. 2014

Put plainly, Egypt is at a standstill, pertaining no prospect of imminent change and no real opportunity for protestors to take to the streets in mass numbers. The only conceivable way for Al-Sisi to lose his grip on power is from within the army ranks itself, rather than through protests or revolution. What, then, can we learn from the failure of the 2011 revolution? Put simply, we can discern that the most important cog in the political machine in Egypt is the military. The military was incremental in encouraging Mubarak to resign, setting the Muslim Brotherhood for failure, and positioning Al-Sisi in a comfortable seat in power. If any change is to occur, it is to occur from within, rather than externally. Today, Tahrir is only a symbol of fleeting hope. It is a melancholic reminder of a missed opportunity, a gut-wrenching what-if.

FIN.