In Memorium: Mohamed Mostafa Karika

 

I was just headed back to the hotel from my second reconnaissance of Tahrir Square for this Friday, December 21, 2012. That morning's visit revealed a relatively quiet square, much like it has typically been before prayers. Like usual, opinions as to the amount of activity the day would see varied from "nothing" to "it will be very big."

I returned to the Square around 5pm, this time, fortunately, with the camera. Small crowds were gathering, typically surrounding unusually large and professionally manufactured banners reflecting contrasting political sentiments. It didn't feel like anything unusual would be happening - but then as I turned to head away I noticed something strange.

From south to north along the western edge of the Square a twisting line of people - mostly youth - had gathered. It was odd, both for its location and its formation. I puzzled over what was happening, and wondered if they might be forming to begin a march to another site, knowing that protests now occur at various places throughout Cairo. Upon closer look I realized that there were actually two lines, at most two persons deep, facing each other.
 

They formed a twisting alley that extended across a good 50 yards. Despite the volume of youth, mostly male, in a Square that is known for its wild exuberance, there was a perceptible somberness. Soon they began lighting small candles, first holding them in hand, and then, upon some unseen instruction, placed them in the alley they formed.

I noticed several people taking photos - even entering the alley and tracing its length - so I ventured closer, still not understanding clearly what was the subject of this apparently very serious ceremony. I found one of the few open spots in the west facing line and began to take some photos. A young man next to me (who later shied away from me taking his own photo) tapped me gently on the shoulder and asked if I would take a picture of a photograph of a young man that he held in his hand; and, next, of a small card he produced when I asked him who the young man was.

 

The Martyr, Hero, Engineer

Mohamad Mostofa Karika

The events of the Cabinet

21st Dec. 2011 - 21st Dec. 2012

"Martyr for Freedom"

 

These were members of the famed sports group Ultra Ahlawi and they had gathered to honor their 19 year old friend and colleague and engineering student who was shot in the back by military forces as they cleared the Square exactly one year ago. He died the next day, despite feverish attempts in the hospital to save him. Apparently, the trail of his blood extended the very length of the alley that they now formed.

Once the candles had dimmed, the group gathered in front of a large projection screen, sat, and watched a series of scenes of their lost comrade.

Shafiq 4; Moursi 0; Abstention 2

The presidential run-off is less than a week away, and by any account it is an unsatisfying choice for many Egyptians: Shafiq, a remnant of the Mubarak regime; Moursi, a Muslim Brotherhood leader. Many activists and professionals we know find the choice insulting and many can't imagine themselves voting for either one. Some plan to "spoil" their ballots by voting for both, an alternative that would preserve the right and action of voting, but at the same time giving no advantage to either candidate. Cairo is plastered with huge, high quality posters of both candidates. Upon arrival on this trip, I spoke with every person I came in contact with while reaching and getting settled in the hotel, in order to get a sense of the pulse from the ground. The Christian grandmother that sat next to me on the flight from Amman found the choice impossible. For her, Shafiq would signal a return to the Mubarak regime, and the thought of Moursi frightens her. She reports hearing that he - the Muslim Brotherhood candidate - would have Christians' throats slit. Otherwise, Moursi to her is deceptive and two-faced. The young man who was first in the tagteam of greeters at the airport was clearly for Shafiq. He will bring strength and stability. He handed me off to the the middle-aged driver, who started out more diplomatically saying it was a difficult choice, but by the end of the 30 minute drive had made clear that Shafiq is the only reasonable choice. Moursi is unknown, and dangerous. A young male receptionist at the hotel said that the choice is impossible and that he wouldn't vote. Another proclaimed clearly for Shafiq. He admitted to some self-consciousness about his preference, noting that some of his friends criticize him for wantiing to return to a police state. Not so, he says. Rather, his vote would be for stability. At least with Shafiq, he reasoned, he knows what he'll get, which would be a better scenario that the scary mystery of what Moursi might bring. Time now to speak with the youth of our project.

A Nation on Hold

The week is now finished. I was able to interview all of our youth who we have followed now for a full year. There is relatively little to report - not that they didn't have much to say, but that the narrative is common. All are disappointed with the state of the revolution, and all attribute it to the behavior of the SCAF (Supreme Council of the Armed Forces). Any hope that they had that SCAF would be a fair and non-intrusive custodial power dissipated long ago.

The trigger was also common, reinforcing a core theme that has emerged throughout the project; namely, that invasive, abusive, and violent treatment by authorities ignites an indignation that propels to rejection of the authority. Perhaps the one clear illustration of growth from the revolution is that these violations of basic dignity - by all reports endemic to many decades of authoritarian rule - are no longer swallowed by the people. We will study for a long time what the complex formula was for the timing of this foundational transformation from tolerating oppression to defiantly rejecting it one year ago. But, that complexity relative to timing aside, the impetus was simple and clear: enough of the violent, abusive treatment.

Indeed, virtually every "explosion" of unrest since the January 25th commencement of widespread protest that lead to full-scale revolution has followed directly on the heels of such mistreatment. Outstanding examples of this include: the killing of hundreds of protesters on January 28th; the violent clearing of the 3-week long Tahrir Square sit-in at the end of July; the literal crushing of bodies under the treads of tanks during the Maspero protest of October; and, again, in November, the violent clearing of Tahrir Square of a small number of families of those slain in January.

That said, while such abuse has reliably maintained the flame of the revolution, progressively it has also lead to the conviction that the SCAF cannot be trusted, and, indeed, behaves no differently than the regime it was assigned to replace. This disappointment fuels much of the current despair, and resulting withdrawal from active protest. It feels from the outside as a sense of defeat. Some youth would be comfortable with that characterization - indeed, claiming that life is no better than it was before the revolution (economically, but more damning, the continued control of insensitive "leaders"). Others would be more tentative in making a conclusive determination, but every one of them - literally - described thmselves as depressed.

It is a depression, it seems, however, that is transitory. For there is also a sense of grudging anticipation and dim hope for the coming presidential election. Youth do not appear to have become disengaged from the overall process; just exhausted from the constant, unsuccessful battles; knowing that the process (far as it is from their ideal) is moving forward and the best they can hope for is a decent leader to be elected. Interestingly, much seems to be invested in the hope of what an individual president can do.

Free and Clear

Just arrived Cairo for the next (4th) round of interviews. In the year I've been coming this is the first visit where Tahrir Square is functioning as normal: a main traffic intersection. There are some token tents in the center of the roundabout, but life feels eerily . . . normal?

Walking Mohammed Mahmoud street last night with Aly was itself a strange experience. He identified the spot where he'd been shot and relived the moment. It all feels so out of context, as the street - recently an intense battle ground - was non-distinct, with foot and vehicle traffic proceeding as it does on any avenue.

It's too early to tell what the mood is like here, but I sense glimpses of fatigue and forward looking. The few youths I've been able to talk to thus far seem spent, but ready for whatever comes next. The local paper is full of news on the coming presidential election (May 23, 24).

The Agony of Betrayal: An Ugly Face of Revolution

From a longer-term perspective, the remarkable tenacity of Egyptian protesters (surfacing repeatedly despite bruising setbacks) likely bodes well for the eventual success of the revolution in achieving lasting and fundamental change.

But there is no escaping the agony that accompanies this process. This has been no more clearly evident than in the last 3 days when vicious battles have taken place between protesters and the military.

Let one argue as one might about shared responsibility (e.g., provocative vandalism on the part of the protesters) or unsophisticated tactics (Stones are Easy - Raise the Price of Your Blood), there still can be no justification for the brutality with which military or police abuse and cripple those that challenge them.

For Egyptians, it is especially excruciating that it is their military (as opposed to the never-respected security police who were the targets of earlier protests) that is now, not just occasionally, but fully leading these escalating assaults. The callous, cruel, and sometimes savage beating of citizens that populates news broadcasts of revolutions across the world sears Egyptians particularly, because these military perpetrators not long ago walked hand in hand with those they now abuse.

Indeed, during the early phase of the revolution youths took pains to defend against sterile media portrayals of the Egyptian miitary as self-interested, articulating and explaining how unified the citizenry has always been with the military. Referring to the January revolution, one youth from our project summarized the remarkable calm between citizens and military by expressing, "We knew they wouldn't hurt us; and they knew we wouldn't hurt them." Others elaborated on the heralded bond between citizenry and military that is forged both by the nationalist ethos that is foundational to Egyptian military training ("you are here to serve and protect the people") and by the camradery of peerhood ("they are my classmates").


But, as one youth, Sherine, wrote today, "What is most disturbing right now is that there is no trust between SCAF and the military on one side, and the people on the other. This loss of trust will take years to reclaim and much damage will result until this happens." - and yesterday, "Egypt is getting raped by those entrusted with its protection."

I've had enough experience in Egypt this year to know just how grave these sentiments are. This is not just a blip of an outburst. Deep wounds are being carved in these days, with the essence of the brutality being the betrayal.

No better summarized than by elmoghazy09 in the lead in to his video: The Transgressions of the Military Council and Its Fabrications, and by the awful images it records:

To whomever defends the military council

To those whose eyes are covered and believe that the army and the people are hand in hand

To Ganzawiry, is what you said the truth

And finally . . . are these the good soldiers of the land?

Interpreting Victory: "Smashing Bodies is Not Welcome"

This final "chapter" of the memorable afternoon with Aly, his mentor, and his father records Aly's evaluation of the pre-election spate of clashes on Mohamed Mahmoud Street.

As background, Aly was injured in those clashes (In Your Face in Cairo). Some days later we met and were joined by his mentor Dr. Heba Raouf Ezzat who admonished toward evolution in revolutionary attitude and behavior (Stones are Easy - Raise the Price of Your Blood); followed by the unplanned meeting with his father and the consequent disclosure to him of Aly's injury (Father on Son: Trading Life for Dignity).

Although in many ways she saw the effort as a failure, Dr. Heba had advised her youth nevertheless to frame it as a victory and move on. After she had left, Aly offered the following as his interpretation of the victory of those costly days of struggle:

1. The clashes reactivated violence against the regime.

2. It made clear that the security forces/military would not "regain their combat face" against civilians. He saw them having lost this postential to defeat civilians on the brutally violent day of January 28 (when security forces killed more than 800 Egyptians across the country in response to the evolving revolution).

3. Thus, "violence as a tool of oppression is not functioning anymore with people".

4. The renewed clashes made it "very, very clear that we will fight for freedom to the death."

5. "Violence allowed us to unite generations and deligimize SCAF."

6. "Power over bodies is going to be eliminated and transformed in the next couple of years", an issue that he saw as important not only on the political but also the social and cultural levels. "This form of power that smashes bodies is not welcome, and will not be legitimized by the people."

Father on Son: "Trading Life for Dignity"

Shortly after his mentor left (Stones are Easy - Raise the Price of Your Blood), Aly's father called. He had come to Cairo to vote on this first day of the initial phase of the parliamentary elections (lower house). Naturally, he wanted to visit with Aly while there, and, just as naturally, Aly agreed and gave the location where we were. He was nervous, however, for he had not yet informed his parents about his injury.

When I asked him about this a few days earlier in the hospital, he said he wanted to wait until his face looked less severe (In Your Face in Cairo). Now, he had no choice. By this day of this unplanned meeting with his father, Aly's face had healed substantially, showing just small scabbing where some of the bird shot had been extracted. But underneath his conspicuously large sunglasses, his eyes and their sockets were still profoundly bruised.

Aly was notably anxious while waiting for his father's arrival, confessing not to know which of two possible reactions his father would have to learning of his injury, either: "how foolish of you" or "you didn't fight hard enough." Eventually, his father arrived.

Aly's dad, a retired professor of agriculture, shorter and slighter in frame, greeted his son unremarkably at the outdoor cafe. Aly introduced me, and we all sat down. Then, surveying his son's bespeckled face and unfooled by the disguise, the father said, "Take off your glasses."

Aly tipped the glasses up, plenty far to reveal the ugly bruising. Acknowledging the injury and after a short pause, his father merely said, "Alhamdilla." Only Aly and his father would understand all that that most commmon and essential of Arabic sayings communicated(literally: "Thanks be to God"). Gratitude that his life was spared? Gratitude for having retained his eyesight? Praise for his sacrifice? Likely these and many other emotions were packed into the telling comment.

Some insight was gained when Aly left the table for a short while. I took the moment to query his father on his reaction to this news of Aly. He said that he was not surprised; that he had already been convinced that his son would have been on the front line. He noted the ambiguity parents feel in such situations - sadness, but also glory. Mostly, he focused on Aly, noting proudly that his son would be ready to "lose his life for the DIGNITY of the Egyptian people." His life is in God's hands, Aly's father, summarized, emphasizing that - given his son's nature and commitment - what is most important is that Aly would be convinced that he was doing something right.

The father related some of what he told me to Aly once he returned to the
table. Upon hearing that his father had been convinced that he would be on the front line, Aly asked him to repeat it - not because he had not understood, but because he wanted to hear the moving sentiment again.

The tears in both of their eyes confirmed the meaning of the exchange between them, and, to the outsider at the table, it offered access to both the power of the father-son bond and the overriding salience of the collective struggle for long-deprived dignity.