CHAPTER 1

Egypt in Transformation

Jeannie Sowers

At sunset on June 6, 2011, Egyptians once again demonstrated their creativity and tenacity in staging public protests. Activists stood motionless on Cairo’s Qasr al-Nil bridge, shoulder to shoulder, facing each other across four lanes of choked traffic, garbed in black. A few talked in quiet voices, others held signs, but most kept silent with folded hands as taxis, microbuses, and cars filled with passengers crawled past. Occasionally a young man came down the line, reminding participants they would soon move across the bridge, through the streets near Tahrir Square, and assemble in front of the Ministry of Interior, the government authority responsible for the detested internal security forces.

This silent stand-in was in memory of Khalid Sa‘id, a twenty-eight-year-old man beaten to death on an Alexandria sidewalk by security forces exactly one year before. The brazen brutality had galvanized citizens across the country, coordinated anonymously through the “We Are All Khalid Sa‘id” Facebook page and other social media, to take to the streets. On July 23, 2010, activists mounted the first in the series of stand-ins. To avoid the draconian restrictions on public gatherings enshrined in Egypt’s Emergency Law, organizers in Alexandria and Cairo asked participants to stand a few meters apart, facing the sea or the Nile if possible, in quiet contemplation or prayer. The novel form of protest attracted unexpectedly large crowds, prompting one commentator to wonder if “the thunderous silence on the Nile” in the summer of 2010 presaged greater civil unrest.1

And indeed it did. In early 2011, after Tunisia’s long-standing dictator fled in the face of a mass uprising, millions of people turned out on the streets of Cairo and other Egyptian cities to demand that President Husni Mubarak step down. The Qasr al-Nil bridge, like other thoroughfares, became the site of some of the most visible clashes between state security forces and protesters during the January 25 revolution, as it is known in Egypt. Defying the black-clad conscripts of the regime’s Central Security Forces, protesters tried to make their way across the bridge to converge on Tahrir Square. They encountered tear gas, bullets, water cannons mounted on armored vehicles, and phalanxes of state security. As captured on videos posted on the Internet and viewed around the world, however, the protesters regrouped, pushed forward behind improvised barricades, and sometimes broke through as the security forces retreated in disorder.

The battles on the Qasr al-Nil bridge were only some of many attacks on protesters across Egyptian cities, often at night, in places with far less media coverage. The courage and determination of many ordinary Egyptians to stay in the streets forced the military to remove Mubarak from office and assert direct control over the country after a mere eighteeen days. Those who participated in the uprising were not simply out to end Mubarak’s thirty-year hold on power. Like their counterparts in Tunisia, protesters wanted to create a political regime that would respect dignity, rights, and justice, not trample upon them.

Embedding such principles in any political system, even consolidated democracies, is an ongoing challenge. But it is a particularly difficult task when the key institutions and personnel of the ancien régime are entrusted with revolutionary goals. Egyptians were initially grateful that the military eased Mubarak out of power, preventing an escalation of the repression and atrocities that unfolded in Syria, Bahrain, Yemen, and Libya. By the summer of 2011, activists became frustrated by the military council’s refusal to repeal the Emergency Law, restructure the security services, or make concrete preparations for elections. The military, a pillar of the Mubarak regime, continued to employ many of the techniques of control and repression that security forces had used in previous years. The Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) criminalized protests and strikes through new laws issued by decree, arrested protesters and tried civilians in military courts, and detained individuals on vague and often questionable charges of subversion, espionage, and treason. Some pro-democracy activists bravely questioned these tactics in blogs, TV interviews, and the press, and were then “invited” in for questioning by the military council. At the same time, however, the public trials of former President Mubarak and his former interior minister went ahead as announced, an unthinkable event just six months earlier, while there is no indication that the SCAF has retreated from its commitment to hold substantive parliamentary and presidential elections.

The January 25 revolution has thus already reshaped the political landscape of Egypt in new and profound ways. The significant gains made by the protesters, and their tenacity in returning to the streets, open up possibilities for systemic institutional transformation in the months and years to come. Success in creating a more accountable, inclusionary political system is far from assured. But for those who took to the streets, and those who did not but watched their compatriots persevere, the uprising has already wrought substantial changes. These can be summed up as the dissolution of fear and its replacement with willingness to challenge practices of political control and hierarchy. As one Egyptian engineer put it, “We feel that a great weight, the weight of zulm [oppression], has been lifted. We know what we are capable of. We can go to the streets again.”2

This lack of fear has concrete roots in victories achieved through peaceful protest and pitched battles like those on the Qasr al-Nil bridge and elsewhere. The old regime inadvertently helped create collective assertiveness and self-sufficiency when it pulled the security and police forces in their entirety off the streets during the January uprising. This decision, like those to unleash gangs of thugs and to free criminals from prisons, proved to be self-defeating, part of a desperate bid to create insecurity and turn public opinion against the protesters. Instead, local watch committees (ligan sha‘biyya) emerged in every neighborhood to address the threat of armed thugs, looting, and disorder. Streets and neighborhoods were self-organized and self-policed. Cairo, a metropolitan area of approximately 22 million people, continued to function, without the traffic police, the security forces, or any other external apparatus of coercion. City streets, it turned out, were not just spaces of protest, but of participatory self-governance.

UNDERSTANDING EGYPT’S UPRISING IN CONTEXT

This book situates Egypt’s January uprising in terms of the key trends in Egyptian society and economy of the past decade. It also covers the unfolding of the January 25 revolution and the initial impact of the revolution on Egypt’s politics and economy. The volume originated as essays published in Middle East Report, a quarterly journal providing independent, in-depth analysis of the region’s political economy since 1971. Many chapters have been reworked and updated to include recent developments; others are reprinted as originally written, to capture a particular historical moment.

The contributors to the volume have all lived, worked, and conducted research in Egypt, and include some well-known Egyptian activists and civil society organizers. The authors hail from a range of academic disciplines, including anthropology, history, sociology, and political science, and their work provides original, empirically grounded knowledge of past trends and unfolding developments in Egypt.

In compiling such a volume, we do not claim that the January 25 uprising was either inevitable or anticipated. No one was more surprised at the escalation of the protests than the youthful organizers themselves; they did not foresee, any more than did the regime, the extent to which the protests would escalate. “The miracle of the Egyptian revolution,” recalled one middle-aged professional who strolled to Tahrir Square on the first day with all of his coworkers, “was that we all decided simply to walk in the streets (mashawir fi shawari‘). It was such an ordinary thing to do, but when millions of us did it, it was extraordinary.”3

While the uprising seemed spontaneous even to participants, veteran activists had rethought their protest strategies in light of the Tunisian success. Rather than announcing protest locations in advance, allowing security forces to overwhelm discrete demonstrations, activists dispersed to various streets and neighborhoods, gathering crowds as they went along and converging on major thoroughfares, bridges, and squares.4 A series of miscalculations by the regime and its supporters in the National Democratic Party (NDP) also contributed to rapid escalation and growing public support. These included sending thugs to attack protesters in Tahrir Square for twelve hours during the infamous “Battle of the Camel,” without any interference from the security forces or the army. Carried live on satellite television, the camel-borne assault placed the contempt of the regime for Egyptian citizens on full display.

While the January uprising was not predictable, momentum for significant political change was building during the 2000s.5 The Mubarak regime was widely viewed as out of touch, corrupt, and heavy-handed. During the 1990s and 2000s, the ruling clique expanded the reach of the internal security and intelligence agencies, employing hundreds of thousands as informants, thugs, police officers, and other personnel to conduct ever more extensive monitoring of the citizenry. Human Rights Watch and local human rights organizations chronicled the systematic use of torture, widespread illegal and indefinite detentions in police stations across the country, and even cases of abductions and disappearances.6 Once limited to targeting political opponents and Islamists, these tactics now spread as a routine use of state power.7 In a prescient 2006 essay, Robert Springborg outlined how these policies, designed to forestall the possibility of mass protest, instead undermined its ability to gauge public opinion and react appropriately.8 In other words, the Mubarak regime became progressively less capable of governing during the 2000s, as its reliance on security agencies overshadowed its limited avenues of engagement with political and civil society.

THE JANUARY 25 REVOLUTION: TAHRIR AND BEYOND

As Mona El-Ghobashy argues in Chapter 2, during the 2000s the police and security forces came into direct confrontation with increasing numbers of Egyptians across class and communal lines. She notes that “by January 25, 2011, every protest sector had field experience with police rule . . . but no population group had come close to shifting the balance of resources in its favor.” All this changed in the first four days of the January 2011 street battles, she argues, as the police encountered an unprecedented, cascading situation. Protest, strikes, and vigils diffused rapidly through cities across the country, and protesters returned to the streets in ever greater numbers despite extensive and often lethal police violence. The protesters also literally destroyed key parts of the hated police and security infrastructure, storming and burning police stations, armored vehicles, and government party headquarters in the capital and the provinces.

The epicenter of the protests quickly became Tahrir Square in downtown Cairo. In Chapter 3, Ahmad Shokr chronicles from firsthand experience how the days and nights spent in Tahrir transformed participants and their expectations. When people recall their time in Tahrir, many describe living in a utopia where they felt freed from their own circumscribed identities as well as from fear of the regime. As the protesters repeatedly fought to hold Tahrir in the face of attacks by police forces and hired thugs, and organized the routine tasks of sustaining everyday life, such as providing food, shelter, and medical care, staying in the square became far more than a political demonstration. As Shokr observes, the square “became a tent city where people of every political stripe and social class gathered to exchange views about everything.”

Many participants felt that they were collectively involved in creating a political community for the first time. Jessica Winegar, in Chapter 6, shows how this sense of community persisted when young people embarked on cleaning up Tahrir and other urban spaces in the aftermath of the protests. She sees efforts at collecting garbage, painting, and sweeping the streets as part of a broader reclaiming of public space by marginalized youth.

Patriotism, communal purpose, and joy: all these were facilitated in Tahrir and elsewhere by protest leaders leading crowds in chants and slogans. After January 2011, protest in Tahrir and other public spaces continued, hoping to push forward the goals of the uprising in the face of a recalcitrant security state. The most talented sloganeers kept the crowds engaged with satire, humor, and wordplay worthy of a talented rap artist.9 As Elliott Colla demonstrates in Chapter 4, Egypt has a long and rich history of sloganeers, poets, and songwriters galvanizing and sustaining street protest and social movements. Colla illustrates how the political poetry of Tahrir poked fun at officials and kept fear at bay even as chants also conveyed the serious political demands of the demonstrators.

Another critical factor sustaining street action during the uprising was the nonstop media coverage provided by Al Jazeera and other media outlets, which kept Egyptians all over the country informed of developments despite the campaign of state-run media to discredit the protesters. Ursula Lindsey chronicles in Chapter 5 how the uprising was not simply a contest for control of the streets, but for public opinion more broadly. The independent, private, and foreign media provided staunchly supportive coverage of the protesters and their aims, in stark contrast to government-owned outlets. Lindsey shows how young activists also used social media, cell phones, and interviews on privately owned satellite stations to counter the regime’s propaganda.

STREET PROTEST AND POLITICAL
MOBILIZATION UNDER MUBARAK

Part II of this volume places the January uprising in the context of intensifying, contentious street politics across Egypt during the 2000s. In Chapter 7, Asef Bayat argues that the “Arab street” is not only a physical space of contestation, but also “an expression of the collective sensibilities, shared feelings, and public judgment of ordinary people.” Bayat argues that with the increased policing of streets and public spaces during the 1980s and early 1990s, Islamist and leftist activists moved to informal mosques, universities, and professional associations. Activists returned to street protests in the 2000s, however, to demonstrate in support of the Palestinians (2002), oppose the US invasion of Iraq (2003), and support democracy and labor demands.

Street protest in Cairo against the 2003 Iraq war looked much like a dress rehearsal for January 2011, as Paul Schemm shows in Chapter 8. Protesters occupied Tahrir Square and fought pitched battles with battalions of riot police in the surrounding streets. Popular criticism of Mubarak’s foreign policies escalated when Egypt helped Israel seal off the Hamas-controlled Gaza Strip after 2007. Ursula Lindsey, in Chapter 10, shows how public anger mounted against Egypt’s blockade of Gaza, a policy that included building a subterranean steel wall on the Egyptian–Gazan border with American assistance.

In parallel with the revival of street protest, labor activism also intensified. Joel Beinin argues in Chapter 9 that workers felt threatened on several fronts by accelerating economic reforms. As the state restructured state-owned enterprises for privatization, many workers were laid off. Wages in the public and private sectors failed to keep pace with rising prices for food and other basic commodities, while employers often arbitrarily withheld pay and bonuses.

As a result of these increasingly difficult conditions, labor leaders launched approximately 2,623 collective actions involving over 1.7 million workers between 1998 and 2008, while the number of strikes, sit-ins, demonstrations, and campaigns accelerated in subsequent years.10 The government responded to major strikes not only with police repression but also with strategic concessions on bonuses and wages. Thus, despite draconian laws and government-controlled unions designed to contain activism, workers quickly learned that direct action was effective. After the fall of Mubarak, as strikes spread, the SCAF issued a new law criminalizing work stoppages. With strikes and sit-ins showing little sign of abating, however, there is little indication that Egypt’s workers will be so easily intimidated.

CONTESTED RULES AND INSTITUTIONS

Part III moves from the domain of street protest and civic activism to analyze the dynamics of contention over the rules and practices of formal political institutions. The Mubarak regime appeared for years to have the upper hand in managing participation in formal political life through a combination of patronage, elaborate legal restrictions, and coercive power to divide and punish opposition forces. The 1990s and early 2000s, however, saw cumulative efforts by lawyers, judges, human rights activists, opposition parties, and others to promote competition and accountability within existing political institutions and laws.

At the center of some of these legal battles was the Egyptian constitution. As Mona El-Ghobashy shows in Chapter 11, reforming Egypt’s 1971 constitution emerged by 1999 as an issue that unified opposition groups from across the ideological spectrum. Judges, lawyers, leftists, and opposition party figures converged in their demands that the constitution be revised to limit executive power over the parliament and judiciary.

Constitutional debates have only intensified since Mubarak was deposed. In March 2011, the military put forward a package of constitutional amendments for popular vote in a yes/no referendum. Among other measures, the referendum called for a rapid electoral timetable, after which a popularly elected parliament would undertake constitutional reform. Liberal opposition groups staunchly opposed this provision, concerned that Islamist parties and the individuals associated with the government’s dissolved party, the NDP, would win a parliamentary majority given their existing organizational capacities, and produce a constitution that did not sufficiently constrain the executive or protect the rights of minorities and women. They called upon the military to convene a committee to put forward a “bill of rights” enumerating basic principles and rights that could not be abrogated in later revisions to the constitution. In contrast, the leadership of the Muslim Brothers and other Islamist parties argued that only a democratically elected parliament could be delegated to undertake constitutional reforms and enumerate basic rights.

The military’s referendum passed by 77 percent of the popular vote in the spring of 2011, but by the summer the military announced that it would consider convening a constitutional committee in advance of elections. This announcement prompted Islamist organizations, including the Muslim Brothers, to organize their own Tahrir protests to oppose such a committee, where protesters chanted, “We want it [the constitution] Islamic.”

During the Mubarak period, such debates over constitutional reform were largely confined to professional associations and opposition parties. This was not the case, however, in hotly contested electoral competitions for parliament in Egypt’s cities and rural areas, which involved far greater numbers of people. As Mona El-Ghobashy shows in Chapter 12, the Mubarak regime routinely rigged elections by establishing rules that limited competition, engaging in blatant fraud at voting booths and polling centers, and intimidating voters through the use of state security forces and thugs. Yet she argues that opposition activists turned the conduct of elections into something much more than an exercise in authoritarian domination. In particular, judges and activists sought to strengthen judicial oversight of elections through court cases, documentation of violations, and direct action. These efforts were partly successful, producing expanded judicial oversight over parliamentary elections by 2005. El-Ghobashy goes on to show how the regime closed this opening by canceling provisions for judicial oversight in advance of the 2010 elections. But the victory was Pyrrhic, to say the least: the absence of trusted monitors reduced the already limited credibility of the electoral process among Egyptian citizens to zero. The Mubarak regime’s legitimacy was thus further eroded.

In Chapter 13, Issandr El Amrani chronicles the results of the landmark 2005 parliamentary elections. In order for judges to monitor the many polling stations, elections were spread out over several weeks. In doing so, the regime’s blatantly illegal actions to win races came under greater scrutiny. Despite massive cheating and obstruction, the NDP secured only 149 out of 444 seats. The party eventually claimed a supermajority of 316 seats, attained only when independent candidates joined the party after they had won.

As El Amrani points out, the Muslim Brothers were widely considered to be the biggest winners of the 2005 election. Candidates affiliated with the Brothers captured an unexpected eighty-eight seats, despite the fact that the organization was formally banned. In Chapter 14, Joshua Stacher and Samer Shehata examine how the Brothers moved from an organization focused on social reform and proselytization toward a greater role in electoral politics and in parliament. Their chapter illustrates how the newly elected parliamentary bloc took their representative roles seriously, coordinating their positions on political reform measures and working on concrete issues important to their constituents. The Brothers also used their seats under the rotunda to mount their own response to public health and other crises, showing Egyptians that such leadership did not have to be the sole domain of an unaccountable executive branch.

With the fall of Mubarak, political and generational divisions among the Brothers have become clearer. The senior leaders created a new political party, the Freedom and Justice Party, but tried to allay liberal fears by pledging that the organization would not field a presidential candidate. When ‘Abd al-Mun‘im Abu al-Futouh, a popular reformist figure, announced he would run for president, he was expelled from the Brothers’ ranks. This act, and the old leadership’s inconsistent positions on civil rights for minorities and women, prompted some of the younger members to leave the Brothers and announce that they would form their own political party.

The end of the Mubarak era also emboldened the Gama‘a Islamiyya and other radical Islamist groups espousing visions of an Islamic state. These groups had been at the forefront of a violent insurgency to overthrow the regime in the early 1990s, providing both the impetus and the victims for an expanded internal security apparatus. These groups have begun to claim a public role in politics. One the first two political parties approved in the post-Mubarak era, for instance, was the Nour Party, founded by salafi groups from Alexandria.11 In Chapter 15, Ewan Stein examines the evolution of the Gama‘a before and after the fall of Mubarak, drawing on his interview with one of the leading spokesmen of the group, Najih Ibrahim, among other sources.

The increasing political visibility of the Brothers and other Islamist groups is partly a product of two decades of “Islamization” of cultural and social life in Egypt, from below by social movements and from above by the state. The Muslim Brothers are only one of many organizations that constructed welfare associations, community organizations, mosques, and social service centers across the urbanizing peripheries of Egyptian cities and towns.12 This social infrastructure supported the spread of an increasingly narrow, often exclusionary construction of Muslim identity. The Mubarak regime sought to co-opt the Islamist message with ever larger doses of “Islam” on state-run television and radio, often in programs hosted by state-sponsored preachers.

As Mariz Tadros shows in Chapter 16, Egypt’s Coptic Christian community, estimated at around 10 percent of the population, has found its communal security more precarious as a result of these social changes. Both the Mubarak government and the SCAF tolerated escalating violent attacks on Coptic villagers, churches, and shops. Security forces and military forces typically failed to respond quickly and were directly implicated in some attacks. The military, like the Mubarak regime before it, has relied largely on “reconciliation committees” that focus on placating “both sides” in sectarian disputes, including the instigators of violence, rather than prosecuting crimes. Egypt’s pro-democracy activists continue to call for guaranteed civil and communal rights for the Coptic population, and this issue remains central to whether a more liberal political regime emerges in Egypt.

PEOPLE, LAND, AND CAPITAL

In Part IV, we examine some of the long-term changes in Egypt’s economy, environment, and demography that underpinned momentum for political and social change. Faced with a large, inefficient state-owned sector and recurrent fiscal crises, the government embarked on structural adjustment programs designed by the IMF and World Bank by the early 1970s under then-President Anwar al-Sadat. As Chapter 17 by Karen Pfeifer shows, neoliberal economic reform during the 1980s and 1990s provided state subsidies and other incentives for investors to focus on sectors such as finance, real estate, construction, tourism, and raw materials extraction and processing. Private investors, foreign and domestic, as well as consortiums involving state-owned enterprises, were given cheap land, cheap natural gas and oil, and extensive tax and customs exemptions. Large plots of land were carved into free zones where Egypt’s regular regulatory regimes did not apply, while state-owned enterprises were increasingly privatized and new labor laws favoring employers enacted. The result was aggregate economic growth without commensurate employment expansion or wage increases. Pfeifer shows how while Egypt’s market reforms and privatization programs were touted as success stories by international financial institutions, these reforms concentrated profits chiefly in the hands of large-scale foreign and domestic capitalists.

Timothy Mitchell in Chapter 18 analyzes some of the financial underpinnings and spatial consequences of such “undisciplined” capitalism. During the 1980s, state and private banks alike increasingly catered to a small stratum of wealthy businessmen and state-owned enterprises. The costs of non-performing loans were shifted onto public finances when the state bailed out the banking sector and stock market in 1990–91. During the 1990s, wealth continued to accumulate in the hands of well-known family business conglomerates and regime officials, in ventures producing goods and housing affordable only to a few. The reemergence of a wealthy elite was increasingly evident in the proliferation of luxury gated communities reaching into the desert west and east of Cairo, such as Dreamland, as well as in the construction of upscale malls, vacation homes, and coastal resorts.

The increasingly uneven distribution of wealth combined with ongoing population growth poses profound developmental challenges for Egypt. In Chapter 19, Eric Denis reports on Egypt’s demographic trends using the 2006 national census. Although the rate of population growth has slowed,it has done so very gradually. Between 1996 and 2006, the growth rate was 2.05 percent, while for the previous decade it was 2.08 percent. As Denis observes, these growth rates mean that Egypt’s population now outstrips that of Iran and is set to overtake that of Turkey in the next decade.

The sluggish decrease in Egypt’s population growth rates, Denis argues, stemmed not only from cohorts of girls entering childbearing age from the earlier population boom, but also from economic policy decisions. Privatization limited public-sector employment opportunities for women, while government budgets for education remained stagnant. The state’s dwindling social safety net, reduced subsidies for basic commodities, and loss of public-sector jobs informalized much of the labor force. Low-wage jobs in the service sector and nonpaid family labor increasingly constituted employment for even educated young people. Respectable national growth rates thus masked the impoverishment of many in the lower and middle classes, and women accordingly had more children in order to secure family livelihoods. These realities, stemming from national economic policy decisions, ironically undercut the state’s efforts to encourage family planning and birth control.

Rapid urbanization has transformed not only Egypt’s metropolitan centers, but also its villages, hamlets, and secondary towns. Most Egyptians live in densely populated urban and peri-urban areas in the Nile Delta and Nile Valley. Only some informal areas have adequate access to sanitation services or good quality water, despite rosy official statistics.13 Agricultural and urban land is in high demand, often claimed by the military and state-owned entities. Small farmers have steadily seen their access to, and control over, lucrative agricultural land rolled back, as the Mubarak regime reversed Nasser-era land reform and tenancy laws. Ray Bush and Amal Sabri document in Chapter 20 how fisheries and grazing areas on Egypt’s northern coast, once used in communal rotation by local communities, are increasingly “enclosed” by private investors and industrial enterprises, many of which are partially state-owned.

Pollution loads are also unequally distributed. Significant air and water pollution afflicts most Egyptian cities and villages, but is most dire where concentrated industrial activity and transport combine with inadequate sanitation and solid waste systems. In Chapter 21, Sharif Elmusa and I analyze the largest environmental protest movement to emerge under Mubarak, a campaign in the port city of Damietta against a proposed fertilizer plant. The campaign was notable in that it united groups in the province across class and ideological lines, invoking local economic priorities to contest the central government’s investment plans.

In the aftermath of the revolution, some of the “crony capitalists” most closely associated with the Mubarak regime were charged with corruption. Those who held official positions in the government and the NDP, like Ahmad ‘Izz, head of one of Egypt’s largest steel enterprises, were among the first to be charged and imprisoned. The government also began to review a large number of privatization agreements and renegotiate land concessions with private investors. The Ministry of Investment was officially abolished, and the privatization program halted.

There is little doubt that Egypt needs more equitable development policies that generate employment and improve wages. As shown in this volume, the unequal accumulation of wealth under neoliberal reform was official government policy, not simply some version of “private” corruption in the absence of a capable state. Yet the SCAF’s emerging anti-privatization stance holds its own pitfalls. Most of Egypt’s state-owned enterprises have been sustained only through ongoing borrowing from state-owned banks, pension funds, and other government entities. They require either significant public investment or privatization to become financially viable. Furthermore, as periodically done by the Mubarak regime, the SCAF has selectively targeted leading businessmen with allegations of corruption.

If the interim government shifts toward the economic statism of earlier decades, it will simply delay much-needed progress in constructing more “disciplined”—that is, regulated—forms of capitalism. As Beinin points out in Chapter 9, the Muslim Brothers and other emerging political forces have traditionally been hostile to working-class organizations and extensive state ownership. It remains to be seen if Egypt’s mobilized workers can create a credible labor party. If upcoming elections produce more representation of diverse political forces, at least one can expect more open, contentious discussions about economic policy than those that took place within Mubarak’s closed circles of decision-making.

THE POLITICS OF IDENTITY, GENDER, AND YOUTH

The chapters in Part V explore how norms of fashion, marriage, sexuality, and youth are socially constructed in contemporary Egypt. Linda Herrera analyzes the cultural phenomenon of “downveiling,” or women wearing less conservative forms of Islamic dress, in Chapter 22. During the 1980s and early 1990s, Islamic movements for religious revitalization reshaped public notions of women’s dress, and various styles of conservative “Islamic” attire spread rapidly in Egypt. By the mid-1990s, however, Herrera observes that women chose more form-fitting, colorful, and stylish ways of wearing the hijab (headscarf) and khimar (a cloak that covers the arms and upper torso). She traces downveiling to several factors: the Mubarak regime’s bans on conservative Islamic attire in schools, the emergence of new fashion styles, such as “Islamic urban chic,” women’s preferences for less hot, more practical clothing, and policies at elite private universities that discouraged conservative dress.

In Chapter 23, Hanan Kholoussy turns to the social construction of marriage and courtship as she analyzes the book ‘Ayiza Atgawwiz (I Want to Get Married) by the popular blogger Ghada Abdel Aal. Abdel Aal’s satirical postings on Egyptian courtship rituals and marriage customs became an instant hit in Egypt, spinning off into not only a book but also a TV serial aired over the nights of Ramadan in 2010. Kholoussy situates Abdel Aal’s writing in broad, long-running debates about a “marriage crisis” in Egypt. Many observers attribute the trend of deferred wedlock in Egypt to the rising costs of acquiring the accoutrements of middle-class marriage, such as a flat and furniture. Abdel Aal’s blog reveals that some women simply choose not to get married right away. Kholoussy points out that Abdel Aal’s popularity stems in part from her class position; as a thirty-something pharmacist living in the industrial city of Mahalla al-Kubra with a father who is a small-time state employee, Abdel Aal appeals to many young women who share her modest, non-elite background. Similarly, she writes in a familiar idiom, the funny, smart, street language of Egyptian colloquial Arabic rather than the formal standardized style.

Hossam Bahgat, in Chapter 24, directs our attention to forms of sexuality and courtship other than sanctioned heterosexual marriage. Bahgat chronicles the unpredictable and erratically abusive policies of the Mubarak regime toward homosexuals and homosexuality. In 2001, the regime’s state security services embarked on a series of raids, arrests, and prosecutions of tourist boats, nightclubs, and other places thought to be gay hangouts. The Egyptian media showed no hesitation in publishing sensational, unsubstantiated claims made by the security forces, such as allegations that the men involved were members of Satanic cults. Bahgat suggests that the regime’s sudden targeting of gays may have been intended to distract the public from pressing economic problems and position the government as the guardian of “Islamic values.” He observes that many Egyptian human rights organizations were unwilling to protest the regime’s behavior, since the suspects were described as homosexual. As if to prove his point, Bahgat was fired from his position at the Egyptian Organization for Human Rights two days after this chapter was originally published in Middle East Report on July 23, 2001. He went on to found the Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights (EIPR), which continues to press for the rights and bodily safety of all Egyptians, regardless of their gender, religious affiliation, or sexual orientation. EIPR has been at the forefront of the Egyptian organizations speaking out against the SCAF’s arbitrary restrictions on freedom of speech and assembly in the wake of the January 25 revolution.

It is fitting that the last chapter in this volume looks at notions of “youth” in Egypt and the Middle East. As the main force catalyzing the uprisings in Tunisia, Egypt, and elsewhere, Middle Eastern youth have again become of great interest to outsiders—although in 2011 they tend to be regarded as democratic agents of change, rather than as potential recruits for radical networks as they were often portrayed after the September 11, 2001 attacks. In Chapter 25, Ted Swedenburg examines how regimes in the Middle East framed the youthful populations as a problem. The average age in Egypt is slightly over twenty-four, and youth are more likely to be unemployed or underemployed than any other group. Swedenburg argues that official and public discourses often depicted youth as in need of guidance by parental and state authorities to avoid a host of temptations—variously identified as moral corruption, Westernization, materialism, Islamism, and radicalization. Little did officials realize that come the spring of 2011, youthful, educated activists in Egypt would destabilize a paternal, patriarchal, and patronizing regime literally run by old men.

LOOKING FORWARD: SECURITY REFORM AND LOCAL GOVERNANCE

In conclusion, I want to call attention to two important issues outside the scope of this volume but which are critical to whether Egyptians succeed in creating a more accountable political regime. The first issue is whether newly elected political leaderships will document and prosecute past and ongoing violations of human rights by state security forces, and create clear distinctions between a civil police force, the military, and domestic intelligence services. After Mubarak was deposed, the SCAF announced the dissolution of the State Security Investigations (usually known simply as State Security, Amn al-Dawla), and promptly reconstituted it under a new name, the National Security Agency (Amn al-Watani), with a seemingly minor reshuffling of officers.14 In March 2011, amidst reports that state security offices were burning and shredding incriminating documents, protesters broke into state security compounds in Nasr City, Alexandria, Sixth of October, Minya, Asyut, Marsa Matruh and other cities. They found mounds of shredded paper, charred piles of documents, destroyed computers and files, underground detention cells, and torture implements, as well as intact documents. Army forces prevented protesters at some locations from taking documents, and announced that all documents should be returned to the military on national security grounds.

The role of the military in reinforcing the prerogatives of the security state here is instructive. The council of generals had no experience in dealing with a mobilized civil society, and little capacity for governing the country transparently. Amidst mounting concern that the old generals of the SCAF were obstructing real political change, protesters took to the streets and city squares again in the summer of 2011. In the sweltering heat of midsummer, activists returned to camping out in Tahrir Square and staging large rallies on successive Fridays. The central slogan of the January uprising—“The people want the fall of the regime”—returned in new variations, such as “The people want the fall of the marshal,” referring to the head of the SCAF, Field Marshal Muhammad Husayn Tantawi. Tantawi had been a key figure under the Mubarak regime, having held the position of minister of defense and military production since 1991.

To date, calls from activists and human rights groups to devise mechanisms for independent oversight of the Ministry of Interior have been ignored. Systematic reform of the institutions that perpetuated abuses depends on the outcome of parliamentary and presidential elections—and on whether the political parties that survive the electoral process take such reforms seriously. Given the entrenched institutional position of the military, it will be even more difficult for newly elected civilian leaders to gain oversight over the military’s opaque budget, extensive land ownership, economic activities, and other privileges. As in Turkey, this process will likely unfold over decades, punctuated by reversals and periods of conflict over the role of the security forces and the military in the political system.

A second critical issue is whether and how political power will be devolved to local governments and whether local civic associations will be allowed to participate fully and without interference in community organizing and activism. Despite frequent announcements that the government was going to decentralize administrative functions, in practice the Mubarak regime showed no interest in devolving power to lower levels. Instead, the regime deepened already extensive controls over municipalities and provinces (muhafazat). It appointed governors drawn largely from the military and police forces, and maintained centralized control over revenue collection and expenditures. To make matters worse, elected local councils at the city and neighborhood levels were little more than appendages of the government’s party, the NDP. For voluntary organizations, multiple legal restrictions—nominally supervised by the Orwellian-named Ministry of Social Solidarity and in practice overseen by State Security—severely limited their autonomy and effectiveness.

As suggested at the outset of this chapter, the experience of the January uprising has generated a sense of collective empowerment, at least for the present. As one scholar who interviewed members of the popular committees in both poor and rich neighborhoods found, participants felt that they could finally speak out for better treatment and services.15 Some activists have tried to scale up the popular committees so that they can participate more actively in local and municipal affairs. Others have focused their efforts on calling for the dissolution of the old regime’s local councils, a step that was finally decreed by an administrative court in June.16 At present, however, residents of neighborhoods and cities have few legitimate opportunities to participate in local affairs. On this issue, like many others examined in this volume, it remains to be seen whether the activists who led the January 25 revolution can bring about substantive changes in governance.

July 2001