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.

Stones are Easy - Raise the Price of Your Blood

A singular privilege during the recent stay in Egypt was observing the interaction between Aly, some of his comrades, and their cherished mentor Dr. Heba Raouf Ezzat.

I had made an appointment to say goodbye to Aly and he asked that we meet at an outdoor cafe in central Cairo. There with him was his mentor Heba, who was the one that helped place him in an out-of-the-way hospital after his injuries (In Your Face in Cairo). Rumors were spreading that security officers would come to hospitals to arrest protesters. Dr. Heba's home is at Tahrir Square, and Aly had been staying with her also since his release from the hospital.

Aly had talked often about Dr. Heba and it was a real honor to meet her. She is gentle and soft-spoken, but her message to Aly and his comrades at the table was tough and exacting. Their reverance for her was clearly apparent, and in this case of the challenge she was confronting them with, it was evident in their silence, or in their only very slight pushback against some of her admonitions.

Many had just died in the pre-election clashes and it wasn't clear that any appreciable concession had been made to the protesters. Rather, she surmised in response to my query as to why the protests had stopped despite this lack of success, that the people were simply exhausted.

Then, she proceeded to instruct her students broadly on revolutionary leadership, maturation, and tactic.

AS TO REVOLUTIONARY LEADERSHIP

"You need to be smart enough to know when you are defeated."

"Withdraw from Tahrir Square, and find a way to characterize your efforts as successful." (noting how some of it would be hard for Aly to hear)

"Too many protesters have become stars, not leaders. You should have a leader at Tahrir that can tell you when to stop."

"Get past street politics; you've tried shortcuts and lost."

"Your blood is not cheap; don't just throw it away like that. You must get something in return for it."

"Stones are easy; it is far more difficult to go to long-term negotiation."

"Raise the level of discourse."

"Learn the games of politics to lift your performance."

AS FOR ELECTIONS

"You lost the election; now you have 5 years."

"Don't just deal with those you elected [voted for]. Go to all individuals [who were elected] and demand accountability."

Practical Tentacles of Tahrir

One of the explanations the military or its defenders have given for opposing the takeover by protesters of Tahrir Square has been the congestion it causes to transportation in that important area of Cairo. That claim has always seemed shallow to my naieve perspective. Last night, I was afforded two insights that matured my view some. I learned that while it may well be a regrettable but unavoidable consequence of the revolution (as surely the protesters would claim), at least there is some credibility to the argument against the congestion.

When getting the call that Aly was wounded and in the hospital, I rushed quickly to see him, not knowing how critical his condition was. Once having received directions to the hospital he is in, I flagged a cab and implored him to hurry because of the urgency. (Here but one of several examples on this trip where the improved Arabic skills I'm gaining in Jerusalem have paid off nicely). The driver understood clearly, but . . the route to the hospital? - directly over the bridge leading to Tahrir. As always these days, it was packed with traffic and we were forced to inch our way, with my frustration growing by the second. I wondered in that moment just how many thousands of people feel even more urgent frustration in accomplsihing their varied activities or duties.

After visiting with Aly, his doctor helped me flag a cab at 1:00 am. With the early hour and the distance from central Cairo, there were relatively few. Finally one came who had a fare that he was dropping off close by. I jumped in to finish that short journey with them, before making the 25 minute drive back to my hotel in Zamalek. The cabbie and his fare soon got into a furious argument, with the man wanting the driver to go closer to his home through narrow streets that the driver insisted were not for cabs, but for "tuk-tuks" (motorized rickshaws).

The driver relented but not without various displays of resentment. On our way onward he explained that he didn't want to enter those streets because he was frightened, given that there are no police around. "These streets are not safe without police and I'm frightened to drive in them", he pleaded as if he needed to defend his position to me. His fear was clearly genuine and he confirmed that the absence of the police was due to the on-going revolution. He didn't seem to be against the revolution, but he surely was effected by it.

In Your Face in Cairo

I had learned from Kholoud that Aly would be in Cairo this week. So, as soon as I arrived on Monday night I called while walking through Tahrir Square. He picked up but the reception wasn't good. He said he was also in the Square, that he was headed to drop off his bags, and would call later. I didn't hear back from him.

Several calls and SMSs went unanswered. I figured that he was simply busy and that we would eventually meet this week for the next in our series of interviews that we've held since I first met him in early March this year.

Aly, tall and burly with a handsome face, has shared passionately in these interviews his commitment to the revolution. He, along with Kholoud and so many others in Alexandria were direct participants in the events of January 25th and beyond. (The coverage of Alexandria's role in the revolution has been pitifully inadequate). When I first met him, Aly had just been injured in his hand and shoulder in a battle with security forces as they attempted to destroy incriminating documents.


Over the months, he, like all other activists, expressed increasing disappointment with the lack of substantive change. Aly's narrative was unique among those I've talked intensively with, however, in his growing conviction that real change would require an escalation in violence on the part of the protesters. In July, he labored heavily with his own growing awareness that the regime's corruption extended far beyond its recently deposed leader. But, rather, the violence, exploitation, and abuses of power are endemic throughout all sectors of society. He articulated that one grave implication of that for him might be that he would end up having to fight those he knows and is close to, perhaps even his family members.

Just a few weeks ago he wrote in an email, "The situation is getting more complicated and I am not optimistic at all with the coming elections. . . I am wondering . . . how could we break this system, what else is needed? I am believing that we need more violence against these structures and those leading it."

Then, two days ago here in Cairo, in classic revolutionary form he posted on Facebook: "It is by all means the time of revolution, emancipation(s), and ...love. SO For God Sake Revolt or die in Shame. It is the correction of the Egyptian Revolution Path; from War/revolution to politics and Again in the correct road from politics of the coward elites to the WAR/REVOLUTION of brave young generation who fights in the first lines, behind the enemy lines and in front and against the heavy machines of war and suppression. They shoot by their heavy equipment and we shoot by faith, believe and anger. Tomorrow we will not die, tomorrow we will be emancipation from who we had been, a new life is going to born from the heart and mud of the battle field of our revolution.

I had an immediate sense that Aly would be acting out this admonition himself, and even wrote to a colleague that I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he would soon be a casualty of this newly reenergized revolution.

Last night at about 10pm I thought to try one more time to reach him. A voice picked up and identified himself as Aly's friend. I could hear Aly in the background overruling his friend's decision to turn me away and he took the phone. He was excited to talk, as was I to hear his voice. It wasn't a surprise, but no less difficult, to hear from him that he lay in the hospital with bullet wounds to his head and body. He said that he "would love so much" a visit and, getting directions from Ayman, I hastened to see him.


While his face is severely bruised and swollen, the buckshot, otherwise embedded in his head and torso, missed his eyes or other vitals. He is in good spirits and is eager to leave the hospital when permitted in a few days.

He had lead a group of protesters on the main Tahrir artery where virtually all of the Cairo clashes have taken place (Mohamed Mahmoud Street) in an effort to help instruct them how to confront the police head on and push them away from the Square. Then the shots came.

The swelling in his eyes and mouth clouded neither his pride nor the clarity of his vision on the current phase of the revolution. "They thought that we were just some kids who were playing around . . . but I think we proved that we are more than fighters." He expressed amazement at how peaceful Egyptians have conducted the revolution, bristling against the criticism expressed by some that throwing stones or an occasional Molotov cocktail is violence. "What else should we do?", he protested. He warned that if the security forces continue their real violence - like betraying today's ceasefire and firing on the protesters as they prayed - then the masses will become "very aggressive . . . they won't stay peaceful . . . and the [security forces] will lose a lot . . . This time it won't be just our blood . . ."

After all, "revolutions are about drastic change, not some silly reforms."

Revolution at Dawn

I awoke at 5:30 am to sounds of several blasts coming from the Square just across the river from the hotel. I counted about 10 of them, then saw a flurry of vehicles driving toward the square with blue lights flashing. Got dressed quickly and made my over to the Square wanting to see how things are at such an early hour.

There were much fewer people at that hour, with those who had obviously spent the night starting to mill about, still wrapped in their blankets, huddling around small fires of burning trash. Yet, there was still action down Mohamed Mahmoud Street, the one artery leading to the south of the Square where the clashes have been taking place, with protesters trying to push the security services back away from the Square toward the Ministry of Security building. This was where the blasts I heard had come from, and it became clear that they were shots of tear gas cannisters.

Previously, this street was too croweded with protesters to get a view of what it was like on the front lines, but this morning it seemed possible. So I made my up slowly toward the front. It's a cat and mouse game, with protesters charging, then fleeing back when the tear gas was fired, often in a high arc so that one sees a smoking trail falling from the sky, hits the ground and spreads a wave of smoke.

I videowed one of these cannisters as it fell near us, and was frankly surprised at how little impact of the gas there was. The day before I had been near the Square several times and the residual gas was very hard to take, causing allergy-like respiratory responses.

But then, somewhat later, the crowd began to retreat again. I followed and was overtaken by a wave of invisible gas that was like fire to the eyes. As I ran back, one young man asked if I was OK, and I bravely said yes and waved him off. But soon enough the others didn't need to ask and they rushed to me (like they did to so many others) and sprayed my face with the antitdote solution mixed of water, sodium and who knows what else. I heard the urgent instructions, "Don't open your eyes. Wait a few seconds." Then they sprayed a second dose, admonishing me not to touch my eyes. Finally, it was OK to open them, and the young attendents carefully wiped the residue off my forehead and cheeks, staying meticulously away from the eyes.

This inivisible gas is the more toxic brand that the security services have been employing in this round of the revolution.

CLICK ON THIS PIC

Might as Well Send the Camels Back

A few days into January's revolution, thugs on horses and camels were sent into Tahrir to disrupt the protest. This along with the killing of over 800 people throughout Egypt stoked the protests into the full-scale revolution that toppled Mubarak.

His replacement - Tantawi (above) - has proven a disappointment for any number of reasons. In the end, it was likely wishful thinking that a military officer who had been a fundamental part of the past regime would be able to act any differently. Most critical has been the failure to curb the very same violent excesses of the state security.

To wit, while no camels were sent, the same brutal treatmenet was given to those who sat in after last Friday's Tahrir Square protests. According to many, it was this familiar response that has fueled the clashes that are expressing a determination and defiance equal to or greater than that of January. So far: 30 protesters killed.

Aly, a 27 year old activist we have been following, offered a simple explanation of what the protesters want:

"We want a ministry that doesn't shoot us."