It's almost been a year since the "Arab Spring" began, and now that the wild jubilation has cooled off in most parts of the Middle East, it is time for the nitty-gritty of electoral laws, campaigning, and constitution drafting to take the spotlight. I highly recommend the following two articles for anyone looking to gain some perspective on what is happening in Egypt and the region as a whole. Enjoy!
1) How Bad Electoral Law Could Crash Egypt's Revolution (Atlantic)
2) The Arab Counterrevolution (New York Review of Books)
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Emotion Trumps Rationality
One of the most noteworthy aspects of the 18-day Egyptian uprising in January and February was that the protesters were focused almost exclusively on the internal issues plaguing Egypt: unemployment, rising prices, corruption, etc. External issues that long played a major role in Egyptian political consciousness, primarily the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, were put on the backburner.
Any illusion that the Arab Spring would magically cure Egyptians’ dislike of Israel and lead them to focus more on fixing internal issues than settling external scores, however, was just that: an illusion. What little tolerance Egyptians had for the continuation of the status-quo in their country’s relationship with Israel after the revolution was reduced to nothing last month. In an effort to hunt down the Palestinian militants responsible for attacking a bus near Eilat, Israeli helicopters accidentally killed five Egyptian security officers in Sinai. That led to an outpouring of rage and serious protests outside the Israeli Embassy in Cairo, and the protests reached a new peak last night as protesters broke down the security wall and stormed into the embassy. Israel pulled out almost all of its diplomatic corps in Egypt in the middle of the night.
From a vantage point on our roof, we saw large groups of youth sprinting down the main street near our house towards the embassy. Ten minutes later, some of the same youth came sprinting back the other direction, just as a large group of riot police departed from the police station next to our house in the direction of the embassy. Smoke was rising in the distance from the embassy area, and sirens blared throughout the night. Rumor has it that Prime Minister Essam Sharaf and his cabinet may tender their resignations today.
Today, life on the streets is pretty much back to normal. In my personal opinion, however, the outbreak of these protests could not have come at a worse time. Elections are coming up in November and the electoral laws are still muddled and in need of urgent reform, serious fissures have emerged between the Islamists and the liberals, and dissatisfaction with the ruling military council continues to grow. Every ounce of energy spent engaging in Quixotic missions to break into the Israeli Embassy is one less ounce of energy spent focusing on the real problems that plague Egypt right now. There will most certainly be a time for Egyptians to have a serious debate about how they think their country should deal with Israel, but it is not now!
Furthermore, the last thing that Egypt needs is to give the military council an excuse to crackdown on dissent, which it might very well try to do in response to last night’s events.
Egyptians feel like their government has allowed Israel to run roughshod over them for more than thirty years, and the pro-Palestinian sentiment on the Egyptian street has always been strong. Currently, however, emotion is blinding rationality. Nothing productive can come out of the sort of raw expression of rage that Cairo witnessed last night. I just hope that the consequences are not too serious, either.
Any illusion that the Arab Spring would magically cure Egyptians’ dislike of Israel and lead them to focus more on fixing internal issues than settling external scores, however, was just that: an illusion. What little tolerance Egyptians had for the continuation of the status-quo in their country’s relationship with Israel after the revolution was reduced to nothing last month. In an effort to hunt down the Palestinian militants responsible for attacking a bus near Eilat, Israeli helicopters accidentally killed five Egyptian security officers in Sinai. That led to an outpouring of rage and serious protests outside the Israeli Embassy in Cairo, and the protests reached a new peak last night as protesters broke down the security wall and stormed into the embassy. Israel pulled out almost all of its diplomatic corps in Egypt in the middle of the night.
From a vantage point on our roof, we saw large groups of youth sprinting down the main street near our house towards the embassy. Ten minutes later, some of the same youth came sprinting back the other direction, just as a large group of riot police departed from the police station next to our house in the direction of the embassy. Smoke was rising in the distance from the embassy area, and sirens blared throughout the night. Rumor has it that Prime Minister Essam Sharaf and his cabinet may tender their resignations today.
Today, life on the streets is pretty much back to normal. In my personal opinion, however, the outbreak of these protests could not have come at a worse time. Elections are coming up in November and the electoral laws are still muddled and in need of urgent reform, serious fissures have emerged between the Islamists and the liberals, and dissatisfaction with the ruling military council continues to grow. Every ounce of energy spent engaging in Quixotic missions to break into the Israeli Embassy is one less ounce of energy spent focusing on the real problems that plague Egypt right now. There will most certainly be a time for Egyptians to have a serious debate about how they think their country should deal with Israel, but it is not now!
Furthermore, the last thing that Egypt needs is to give the military council an excuse to crackdown on dissent, which it might very well try to do in response to last night’s events.
Egyptians feel like their government has allowed Israel to run roughshod over them for more than thirty years, and the pro-Palestinian sentiment on the Egyptian street has always been strong. Currently, however, emotion is blinding rationality. Nothing productive can come out of the sort of raw expression of rage that Cairo witnessed last night. I just hope that the consequences are not too serious, either.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
A Ramadan Unlike Any Other
While I was trekking through Turkey during the month of August, Egyptians were busy fasting during the day and partying at night during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan.
I managed to return just in time for the end of Ramadan. Daily life in Egypt between the hours of 9 AM and 4 PM during Ramadan is surprisingly normal. People go to work, the streets are full of cars (and the accompanying noise is just as annoying as ever), and you would never know that they are doing all of that without any food or water! As several friends explained it to me, you make it through Ramadan for three reasons: (1) Over the course of the 28 day fast, your body adjusts to eating large meals at night and nothing during the day, (2) Everyone else is doing it, so there is a feeling of companionship and brotherhood with your fellow fasters, and (3) you have a giant party to look forward to once the sun sets!
Unfortunately we non-Egyptian city dwellers did not have as much access to the party scene as we would have liked. The real parties, as I was repeatedly told, happen in the countryside where families gather together for huge feasts every night with their neighbors and the music blares deep into the night. While that description might include a little bit of embellishment courtesy of my Egyptian friends who were wishing that they could have been celebrating at home, I don’t think it is too far from the truth…
Celebrating iftar, the sundown break-the-fast meal, was still pretty fun in the city. Every restaurant is packed with families, and the glum, tired faces brighten the second after everyone hears the muezzin’s call signifying that the sun has set. After dinner, people pour out into the streets to socialize and shop, and many of them stay there until the wee hours of the morning.
None of those observations about Ramadan, however, represent anything out of the ordinary. Indeed, the reason why I refer to this past Ramadan a Ramadan unlike any other has nothing to do with the normal traditions. Instead, this was the first Ramadan in the post-Mubarak Egypt. No longer did the newspapers carry headline pictures of Mubarak and his wife praying together at his favorite mosque on the outskirts of Cairo. Furthermore, the celebratory Ramadan banners hung between houses in narrow alleyways and on traffic roundabouts now carried the names of a variety of political parties. Prominent among them were the Salafi “Hizb al-Nur” (“Party of Light”), representing the hardline Islamists and the Muslim Brotherhood’s “Hizb al-Huriya wa al-Adala” (Party of Freedom and Justice). Seeing banners openly promoting the Muslim Brotherhood or the Salafis’ political wings would have been unthinkable a year ago.
After Ramadan ends, Muslims celebrate Eid al-Fitr, a three-day long celebration that includes gift-giving and, of course, more feasting. The first day of Eid begins with morning prayers at 6:00 AM. Mosques throughout the country overflow, and the attendees who can’t find space inside spill out into the streets and listen to the imam’s sermon on mats under large canopies.
I spent Eid with an Egyptian friend in Alexandria. While I was unable to drag myself out of bed at that early hour to attend prayers, my friend returned later that morning with a full report. After opening his front door and stepping onto the adjacent main street, he was confronted with two choices: to his left were canopies filled with Salafis, and to his right were canopies filled with supporters of the Muslim Brotherhood. Members of both groups were milling around in the crowds distributing party literature and membership information.
“So which side did you pray on?” I asked him.
“The Muslim Brotherhood,” he replied and added with a laugh, “I didn’t have a choice! They’re crazy, but not as crazy as the Salafis!”
The debate between the religious and the secular parties is really heating up here. I’ll have some more posts on this topic in the coming weeks.
I managed to return just in time for the end of Ramadan. Daily life in Egypt between the hours of 9 AM and 4 PM during Ramadan is surprisingly normal. People go to work, the streets are full of cars (and the accompanying noise is just as annoying as ever), and you would never know that they are doing all of that without any food or water! As several friends explained it to me, you make it through Ramadan for three reasons: (1) Over the course of the 28 day fast, your body adjusts to eating large meals at night and nothing during the day, (2) Everyone else is doing it, so there is a feeling of companionship and brotherhood with your fellow fasters, and (3) you have a giant party to look forward to once the sun sets!
Unfortunately we non-Egyptian city dwellers did not have as much access to the party scene as we would have liked. The real parties, as I was repeatedly told, happen in the countryside where families gather together for huge feasts every night with their neighbors and the music blares deep into the night. While that description might include a little bit of embellishment courtesy of my Egyptian friends who were wishing that they could have been celebrating at home, I don’t think it is too far from the truth…
Celebrating iftar, the sundown break-the-fast meal, was still pretty fun in the city. Every restaurant is packed with families, and the glum, tired faces brighten the second after everyone hears the muezzin’s call signifying that the sun has set. After dinner, people pour out into the streets to socialize and shop, and many of them stay there until the wee hours of the morning.
None of those observations about Ramadan, however, represent anything out of the ordinary. Indeed, the reason why I refer to this past Ramadan a Ramadan unlike any other has nothing to do with the normal traditions. Instead, this was the first Ramadan in the post-Mubarak Egypt. No longer did the newspapers carry headline pictures of Mubarak and his wife praying together at his favorite mosque on the outskirts of Cairo. Furthermore, the celebratory Ramadan banners hung between houses in narrow alleyways and on traffic roundabouts now carried the names of a variety of political parties. Prominent among them were the Salafi “Hizb al-Nur” (“Party of Light”), representing the hardline Islamists and the Muslim Brotherhood’s “Hizb al-Huriya wa al-Adala” (Party of Freedom and Justice). Seeing banners openly promoting the Muslim Brotherhood or the Salafis’ political wings would have been unthinkable a year ago.
After Ramadan ends, Muslims celebrate Eid al-Fitr, a three-day long celebration that includes gift-giving and, of course, more feasting. The first day of Eid begins with morning prayers at 6:00 AM. Mosques throughout the country overflow, and the attendees who can’t find space inside spill out into the streets and listen to the imam’s sermon on mats under large canopies.
I spent Eid with an Egyptian friend in Alexandria. While I was unable to drag myself out of bed at that early hour to attend prayers, my friend returned later that morning with a full report. After opening his front door and stepping onto the adjacent main street, he was confronted with two choices: to his left were canopies filled with Salafis, and to his right were canopies filled with supporters of the Muslim Brotherhood. Members of both groups were milling around in the crowds distributing party literature and membership information.
“So which side did you pray on?” I asked him.
“The Muslim Brotherhood,” he replied and added with a laugh, “I didn’t have a choice! They’re crazy, but not as crazy as the Salafis!”
The debate between the religious and the secular parties is really heating up here. I’ll have some more posts on this topic in the coming weeks.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
A Long Turkish Jaunt
After four weeks of traveling in Turkey, I returned to Cairo last night. While we were ostensibly "on vacation" in Turkey, I hesitate to use that term because this trip was anything but a relaxing, beach resort experience. We traveled nearly 2,500 miles by bus (including several overnight trips), and we spent many hours under the hot August sun visiting historical sites, hiking, and, of course, gorging ourselves on delicious Turkish food.
Our itinerary included pretty much every region of Turkey: we spent a week on the Aegean coast, a few days in the middle of the country, another few days near the Black Sea in the northeast, a week in eastern Turkey ("Kurdistan," as many easterners prefer to call it), and then a week in Ankara and Istanbul.
Aside from our ambitious schedule, the biggest challenge of the trip was certainly the language barrier. While Turkish contains some words imported from Arabic (colloquial Arabic also has borrowed a number of Turkish words), the grammatical structures of the two languages are completely different. Because so few Turks spoke English, we were compelled to communicate using the most basic of basic vocabularies (we managed to learn simple questions and numbers) and hand motions. That caveman-esque communication system enabled us to scrape by, but we had very few opportunities to connect with Turks in the way that we are able to connect with Egyptians.
Thus, while we learned a great deal about Turkey throughout our four weeks there, I cannot write with any authority on the subject of Turkey's politics or culture. For now, I will sum up my experience in Turkey with a few photographs. Because of my aversion to taking photos, the credit for these pictures goes to my travel partner Chris Opila.
An ancient volcanic eruption at Nemrut Dagi, Turkey's second tallest mountain, left a huge crater with a beautiful lake perfect for swimming.
Ataturk, the founder of modern-day Turkey, made his name at the battle at Gallipoli in WWI, holding off a joint Australian, British, and French assault aimed at taking the Bosphorus.
Ani, once an old silk road city in northeast Turkey, has been reduced to ruins on a grassy plain.
The Sumela Monastery, carved into the mountains near the Black Sea coast, was one of the most breathtaking sights that we saw during our four weeks in Turkey.
With its several thousand years of history, Turkey often combines the very old with the very new. The hilltop ruins of Pergamon, an old Roman city, overlook the new town of Pergamon.
The hot springs at Pamukkale, Turkey's version of Yellowstone.
Finally, despite Ataturk's militant secularism, Turkey is still very much a Muslim country and has a rich Islamic history as well. The Suleymaniye Mosque in Istanbul was built in the 16th century during the reign of Suleyman the Magnificent, one of the most famous Ottoman sultans. The inside of the mosque is just as beautiful as the outside.
Our itinerary included pretty much every region of Turkey: we spent a week on the Aegean coast, a few days in the middle of the country, another few days near the Black Sea in the northeast, a week in eastern Turkey ("Kurdistan," as many easterners prefer to call it), and then a week in Ankara and Istanbul.
Aside from our ambitious schedule, the biggest challenge of the trip was certainly the language barrier. While Turkish contains some words imported from Arabic (colloquial Arabic also has borrowed a number of Turkish words), the grammatical structures of the two languages are completely different. Because so few Turks spoke English, we were compelled to communicate using the most basic of basic vocabularies (we managed to learn simple questions and numbers) and hand motions. That caveman-esque communication system enabled us to scrape by, but we had very few opportunities to connect with Turks in the way that we are able to connect with Egyptians.
Thus, while we learned a great deal about Turkey throughout our four weeks there, I cannot write with any authority on the subject of Turkey's politics or culture. For now, I will sum up my experience in Turkey with a few photographs. Because of my aversion to taking photos, the credit for these pictures goes to my travel partner Chris Opila.
An ancient volcanic eruption at Nemrut Dagi, Turkey's second tallest mountain, left a huge crater with a beautiful lake perfect for swimming.
Ataturk, the founder of modern-day Turkey, made his name at the battle at Gallipoli in WWI, holding off a joint Australian, British, and French assault aimed at taking the Bosphorus.
Ani, once an old silk road city in northeast Turkey, has been reduced to ruins on a grassy plain.
The Sumela Monastery, carved into the mountains near the Black Sea coast, was one of the most breathtaking sights that we saw during our four weeks in Turkey.
With its several thousand years of history, Turkey often combines the very old with the very new. The hilltop ruins of Pergamon, an old Roman city, overlook the new town of Pergamon.
The hot springs at Pamukkale, Turkey's version of Yellowstone.
Finally, despite Ataturk's militant secularism, Turkey is still very much a Muslim country and has a rich Islamic history as well. The Suleymaniye Mosque in Istanbul was built in the 16th century during the reign of Suleyman the Magnificent, one of the most famous Ottoman sultans. The inside of the mosque is just as beautiful as the outside.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The End and the Beginning of Summer
I apologize for my two week hiatus from posting - it's been a busy last few weeks of summer classes, political developments, and a few trips outside of Cairo. While I would love to sum up all of those events with a nice long post, it is now late at night and I have still not packed yet for my trip to Turkey tomorrow. After finishing summer classes on Monday, I spent the day yesterday with my friend Galal at his house in the countryside. My "summer" (summer vacation, that is) officially begins tomorrow afternoon in Istanbul. Four friends and I will be spending a month traveling around Turkey. I'm not sure if I will have internet access there, but, if I do, I will certainly try to update this blog as frequently as possible with news of my travels in the land of Ataturk...Now it's time to pack!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Article about Tweet Nadwa
Last week I was invited to write an article about the Tweet Nadwa and the general economic situation in Egypt for Fikra Forum, a website associated with the Washington Institute for Near East Policy.
You can find the article here. It was also translated into Arabic here.
You can find the article here. It was also translated into Arabic here.
Tahrir Comes Back to Life
Since last Friday, Tahrir Square has once again become the center of the Egyptian revolution. What started as a nationwide day of protest calling for police officers and government ministers accused of murder and corruption to be brought to justice has now turned into a full-fledged movement demanding the resignation of Field Marshal Hussein Tantawi (the leader of the ruling military council) and Prime Minister Essam Sharaf.
I am not going to spend a lot of time going into the specific political demands of the protesters. For that information, I suggest Al-Jazeera or the blog of my housemate Chris, both of which provide constant analysis of the latest political developments. Instead, I want to provide some general perspective on the overall environment in the square.
While Tahrir is technically a public place, a strong security contingent has sprung up at every entrance to the square. In order to avoid potential conflict, there is absolutely no police presence in the square. Instead, the protest organizing committee has enlisted groups of young men and women to check ID cards, search bags, and perform pat-downs for everyone entering the square. When I attended the protests on Friday, the makeshift security apparatus was initially hesitant to let me in to the square, but they were mollified when an Egyptian friend who I was with vouched for me. In what seems to be a holdover from the Mubarak regime, there are still people who believe that there are rogue actors and foreign conspiracies attempting to hinder the revolution. Nevertheless, despite a few wary glances and three requests to see my AUC ID card, I found nearly all of the protesters whom I talked with to be quite welcoming and interested in hearing my perspective on this new occupation of Tahrir.
During the large protests last Friday, Tahrir resembled a summer music festival in the U.S. There were stages in various parts of the square with politicians and activists addressing the crowd and chanting slogans. Large, colorful banners adorned all parts of the square, echoing the chants of the protesters who were calling for justice, freedom, and an end to military rule. Some vendors, taking advantage of the mass of people and the oppressive heat, hawked drinks and food throughout the day, and others sought to capitalize off the revolution by selling patriotic flags, shirts, and hats. It is impossible to estimate exactly how many people came to Tahrir on Friday, but the number was certainly in the tens of thousands.
It is hard to generalize the types of people who have been in Tahrir for the past few days. While there is a large youth contingent, I also saw plenty of middle-aged and older protesters, too. While there are women in Tahrir, the square remains largely male-dominated. I would estimate that it is about an 80/20 ratio of men to women. Public space in Egypt is often male-dominated (especially at night), and Tahrir is no exception.
Although the Friday protests came to an end and there were no specific activities in Tahrir on Saturday, a diehard group of revolutionaries continued to occupy the square. They have set up a large tent camp in the middle of Tahrir, and the square has remained under the supervision of the volunteer security guards and closed to traffic. The protesters intend for their occupation of Tahrir to be a symbol of resistance to the military council, but they have achieved another significant accomplishment: there has been a dramatic reduction in traffic and noise-pollution in downtown Cairo. The dowsha and zahma that often characterizes the square has been replaced by lively political conversations, live music, and poetry readings. While Tahrir will certainly re-open to traffic at some point, I can’t help but wish that the square would be made into a pedestrian-only area…
As Egypt is back in the middle of the work week, the square is fairly calm during the day. Everyday after 5 PM, however, when most Egyptians have finished work and the weather has cooled off, the square comes back to life. While it is unclear whether these protests will actually force the military council to bend to the demands of the protesters, it is undeniable that the spirit of the revolution has once again returned to the center of Cairo.
I am not going to spend a lot of time going into the specific political demands of the protesters. For that information, I suggest Al-Jazeera or the blog of my housemate Chris, both of which provide constant analysis of the latest political developments. Instead, I want to provide some general perspective on the overall environment in the square.
While Tahrir is technically a public place, a strong security contingent has sprung up at every entrance to the square. In order to avoid potential conflict, there is absolutely no police presence in the square. Instead, the protest organizing committee has enlisted groups of young men and women to check ID cards, search bags, and perform pat-downs for everyone entering the square. When I attended the protests on Friday, the makeshift security apparatus was initially hesitant to let me in to the square, but they were mollified when an Egyptian friend who I was with vouched for me. In what seems to be a holdover from the Mubarak regime, there are still people who believe that there are rogue actors and foreign conspiracies attempting to hinder the revolution. Nevertheless, despite a few wary glances and three requests to see my AUC ID card, I found nearly all of the protesters whom I talked with to be quite welcoming and interested in hearing my perspective on this new occupation of Tahrir.
During the large protests last Friday, Tahrir resembled a summer music festival in the U.S. There were stages in various parts of the square with politicians and activists addressing the crowd and chanting slogans. Large, colorful banners adorned all parts of the square, echoing the chants of the protesters who were calling for justice, freedom, and an end to military rule. Some vendors, taking advantage of the mass of people and the oppressive heat, hawked drinks and food throughout the day, and others sought to capitalize off the revolution by selling patriotic flags, shirts, and hats. It is impossible to estimate exactly how many people came to Tahrir on Friday, but the number was certainly in the tens of thousands.
It is hard to generalize the types of people who have been in Tahrir for the past few days. While there is a large youth contingent, I also saw plenty of middle-aged and older protesters, too. While there are women in Tahrir, the square remains largely male-dominated. I would estimate that it is about an 80/20 ratio of men to women. Public space in Egypt is often male-dominated (especially at night), and Tahrir is no exception.
Although the Friday protests came to an end and there were no specific activities in Tahrir on Saturday, a diehard group of revolutionaries continued to occupy the square. They have set up a large tent camp in the middle of Tahrir, and the square has remained under the supervision of the volunteer security guards and closed to traffic. The protesters intend for their occupation of Tahrir to be a symbol of resistance to the military council, but they have achieved another significant accomplishment: there has been a dramatic reduction in traffic and noise-pollution in downtown Cairo. The dowsha and zahma that often characterizes the square has been replaced by lively political conversations, live music, and poetry readings. While Tahrir will certainly re-open to traffic at some point, I can’t help but wish that the square would be made into a pedestrian-only area…
As Egypt is back in the middle of the work week, the square is fairly calm during the day. Everyday after 5 PM, however, when most Egyptians have finished work and the weather has cooled off, the square comes back to life. While it is unclear whether these protests will actually force the military council to bend to the demands of the protesters, it is undeniable that the spirit of the revolution has once again returned to the center of Cairo.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
The Focus Turns to Midan Al-Tahrir (Again)
"Friday, July 8 is the single most important day in Egypt since Mubarak's ouster on February 11." -- Alaa Al-Aswany, Egyptian writer and political commentator
Hundreds of thousands (possibly one million) Egyptians are expected to descend upon Tahrir Square tomorrow in what will likely be the largest protest in the square since Hosni Mubarak relinquished power in February. The protest enjoys the support of all the major political parties in Egypt (including the liberals and the Islamists), and the parties are claiming to have cast their ideological divisions aside in order to come out as a unified force tomorrow. All the groups have gathered under the banner of economic reform, freedom, and social justice. There is also a big focus on pushing the military council to speed-up the judicial process for both the elements of the Mubarak regime charged with corruption and the police officers charged with murder during the January revolution.
In general, many Egyptians that I have talked to over the past few days feel that this is their best chance to "put the revolution back on the right track." There have been several clashes between protesters and police over the past few weeks - largely in response to several trial postponements that have been interpreted as attempts by those on the military council to protect their former cronies. In addition to the growing discontent with the military council, many people have become disillusioned by the petty fighting between the many political parties and the growing rift between the liberals and the Islamists. Furthermore, the country's economy is still suffering from a drop in tourism and foreign investment after the revolution.
Over the past month, I have felt that Tahrir has become more of a "Speaker's Corner" than the center of a revolution. Everyone is always eager to talk, but it is unclear that those gathering there have anything to show for it. Tomorrow, however, may well be different. The sheer spectacle of a mass of humanity once again in the square, united by a list of simple demands, might push the military council to bow to the will of the protesters. On the other hand, there is also a chance that tomorrow's protest could lead to violent clashes (especially if a group of people try once again to attack the Interior Ministry). As Egyptians like to say: "rabina yestoorna" (may God protect us).
I will be back with an update tomorrow. For those of you following on twitter, use #tahrir, #jul8, and #egypt
Hundreds of thousands (possibly one million) Egyptians are expected to descend upon Tahrir Square tomorrow in what will likely be the largest protest in the square since Hosni Mubarak relinquished power in February. The protest enjoys the support of all the major political parties in Egypt (including the liberals and the Islamists), and the parties are claiming to have cast their ideological divisions aside in order to come out as a unified force tomorrow. All the groups have gathered under the banner of economic reform, freedom, and social justice. There is also a big focus on pushing the military council to speed-up the judicial process for both the elements of the Mubarak regime charged with corruption and the police officers charged with murder during the January revolution.
In general, many Egyptians that I have talked to over the past few days feel that this is their best chance to "put the revolution back on the right track." There have been several clashes between protesters and police over the past few weeks - largely in response to several trial postponements that have been interpreted as attempts by those on the military council to protect their former cronies. In addition to the growing discontent with the military council, many people have become disillusioned by the petty fighting between the many political parties and the growing rift between the liberals and the Islamists. Furthermore, the country's economy is still suffering from a drop in tourism and foreign investment after the revolution.
Over the past month, I have felt that Tahrir has become more of a "Speaker's Corner" than the center of a revolution. Everyone is always eager to talk, but it is unclear that those gathering there have anything to show for it. Tomorrow, however, may well be different. The sheer spectacle of a mass of humanity once again in the square, united by a list of simple demands, might push the military council to bow to the will of the protesters. On the other hand, there is also a chance that tomorrow's protest could lead to violent clashes (especially if a group of people try once again to attack the Interior Ministry). As Egyptians like to say: "rabina yestoorna" (may God protect us).
I will be back with an update tomorrow. For those of you following on twitter, use #tahrir, #jul8, and #egypt
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Across the Egyptian Twitterverse
Tonight I attended a “Tweet Nadwa” in Cairo. This nadwa (which translates into English as “seminar” or “conference”), as its name suggests, was organized via twitter and facebook and brought together Egyptians for a discussion about social justice and the future of Egypt. Try as I might to summarize the meeting in 140 characters or less on twitter, I simply cannot do it. Instead, I’ve turned to the blog, which gives me much more space to discuss and analyze tonight’s nadwa in detail.
The event was held in a theater nestled in the alleyways of downtown Cairo, and the room was already packed when I arrived a few minutes before 6:30. I was one of the lucky ones who was able to find a spot on the floor – a few minutes after I sat down, the theater was filled entirely to capacity with people in seats, on the floor, and in the aisles. This being my first twitter-organized event I didn’t quite know what to expect…I assumed that everyone might be spending the entire time with their noses buried in their blackberries, focusing more on their tweets than on the actual content of the discussion. As the moderator explained, however, the event was meant to be much more of a town-hall style meeting and, while a projector screen displayed a live feed of tweets from the audience members, audience members who wanted to contribute would be given a microphone instead of a smartphone. The moderator posed a topic for discussion, and then passed the microphone around to audience members and five prominent tweeters who were sitting on chairs in the front of the theater. Each person could speak for no more than 140 seconds (a nod to Twitter’s 140 character limit). Knowing what sort of rhetorical gems town hall meetings in the U.S. have yielded (e.g. “Keep your government hands off my Medicare”), I was quite excited to see how this concept would play out in an Egyptian context.
Before getting into the actual content of the discussion, a few observations about the overall feel in the room. The audience was generally young, quite politically and socially liberal (both from the nature of the discussion and their preferred styles of clothing), and clearly very tech-savvy. As far as I could tell, there were no Salafis (who often sport long beards and traditional robes called galabiyyas) and no one who publicly identified with the Muslim Brotherhood. A sense of excitement pervaded the room as the discussion began, and as an outside observer it was hard not to get swept up in the moment. I never imagined last year when I was in Alexandria that this sort of discussion would be taking place just one year later in a post-Mubarak Egypt. It was impossible not to be inspired by several hundred people voluntarily coming together to talk about the future of their country. The level of energy and passion in the room – fed by the feeling that there is a real window of opportunity right now to shape Egypt’s political and economic future – was infectious.
Tonight’s topic was social justice, and the conversation mainly focused on economics. The microphone swiftly changed hands in the beginning of the meeting, with most of the attendees striking idealistic notes about the necessity of improving healthcare and education, raising the minimum wage, etc. Nothing revolutionary, but nevertheless a good way to start the program. After a brief digression in which the attendees argued amongst themselves about how the stock market functioned and whether it was or wasn’t necessary for the country’s future, the discussion heated up when a proud Communist stood up and admonished the crowd for not focusing on the real issues. “You all are forgetting the critical problem here,” he declared, “we need to stop talking about the minimum wage and the stock market and start talking about how to end the capitalist plague that is destroying our country! We must return to the basics and realize that capitalism is inherently unfair!”
The crowd’s attention instantly turned to broad, ideological issues. Instead of clapping, the moderator told the audience members to raise their arms and wave their hands when they agreed with a certain point, and judging by the amount of raised hands and smiles after that mini-Communist manifesto, the man had many allies in the room. Several like-minded thinkers expressed their support for the idea of completely overhauling Egypt’s system, inveighing against the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (among other foreign countries and institutions) for making the rich richer and the poor poorer while tacitly approving the pervasive corruption in the Mubarak regime.
The capitalists in the room were not as vocal, but a few brave souls did stand up to defend their position. “What we had in Egypt for the past 30 years,” one said, “was not capitalism. It was simply despotism.” Another chimed in: “we’ve tried socialism and it didn’t work!” While nobody endorsed the Mubarak regime’s version of capitalism, the capitalists did win a fair amount of head nods and raised hands during their responses to the communist and socialist salvos.
The back-and-forth debate between the capitalists and the communists/socialists continued for some time, but there were two speakers who I found particularly engaging. One man stood up in the middle of the debate and, quite calmly and skillfully, attacked both the capitalists and the communists at the same time: “This question of whether we should have a capitalist or a communist system here in Egypt is not as important,” he declared, “as this question: who will administer the system? If there is anything we have learned in the past 60 years, it is that no matter what ideology we follow, we are ultimately doomed to fail if we have bad leaders. Pick either one of these ideologies, but remember that our success or failure will ultimately be determined by who is making the decisions and not some theoretical framework for how things should work.” While I didn’t speak at the meeting and generally refrained from reacting to any of the statements from one side or the other, I couldn’t help but raise my hand in support of that statement. Soon afterwards, another man stood up and brought up an equally important point: “While it is important to talk about macroeconomics and large companies,” he said, “we also have to focus on small-scale issues. So many young people have business plans or inventions that they want to capitalize on, but our system makes it unbelievably hard for anyone to open their own business. Why should we have to get 15 permits from the government to open a small shop, and why is it so hard for us to get any start-up capital? Change has to come from the bottom, too, and we need to start by completely overhauling the system to make it easier for us young people to go into business for ourselves.” I, and many of the other people in the room, raised our hands in support of this point, too.
Finally, I was very interested by the constant comparisons of Egypt to other countries. Many people backed up their statements by saying “in America they do this” or “in Scandinavia they do that,” and there were several points in the discussion when people used specific examples from American political or economic history. Many of the moderates in the room advocated that Egypt look to northern European countries as models for how to balance capitalism and social justice, but just as many people shook their heads emphatically whenever someone said that Egyptians should look to foreign countries as they design their own system. One speaker garnered a sea of raised hands when he declared simply: “screw capitalism and communism, let’s invent a new and better system here in Egypt!” Nevertheless, America was certainly the most commonly referenced foreign country throughout the discussion. Interestingly, while there were occasional mentions of developing countries such as Brazil and Korea, no one said anything about the Chinese model.
As a whole, I would characterize the discussion as decidedly more focused on social justice and closing the gap between the rich and the poor than most discussions about economic issues in the U.S. Despite a rising culture of consumption here in Egypt and a tendency for the rich to flaunt their wealth, I think people are very conscious of the huge class divide that emerged during the Mubarak regime, and they want to take definite actions to solve the problem. “We must judge our government,” one woman declared, “on the basis of how it treats the weakest people in our society.” If this twitter nadwa is actually representative of the Egyptian liberal movement as a whole, I would expect to see a definite shift to more populist policies if they liberals gain a significant amount of seats in the parliamentary elections.
As I have written before, someone walking the streets of Egypt these days who didn’t know about what happened in January and February would probably not think that this country is undergoing dramatic changes. There are specific times, however, when the gravity of what is happening in Egypt hits you like a tsunami. Tonight was certainly one of those times, and I will certainly be returning to the next twitter nadwa. The attendees’ enthusiasm, optimism, and genuine desire to change their country for the better was truly inspiring.
The event was held in a theater nestled in the alleyways of downtown Cairo, and the room was already packed when I arrived a few minutes before 6:30. I was one of the lucky ones who was able to find a spot on the floor – a few minutes after I sat down, the theater was filled entirely to capacity with people in seats, on the floor, and in the aisles. This being my first twitter-organized event I didn’t quite know what to expect…I assumed that everyone might be spending the entire time with their noses buried in their blackberries, focusing more on their tweets than on the actual content of the discussion. As the moderator explained, however, the event was meant to be much more of a town-hall style meeting and, while a projector screen displayed a live feed of tweets from the audience members, audience members who wanted to contribute would be given a microphone instead of a smartphone. The moderator posed a topic for discussion, and then passed the microphone around to audience members and five prominent tweeters who were sitting on chairs in the front of the theater. Each person could speak for no more than 140 seconds (a nod to Twitter’s 140 character limit). Knowing what sort of rhetorical gems town hall meetings in the U.S. have yielded (e.g. “Keep your government hands off my Medicare”), I was quite excited to see how this concept would play out in an Egyptian context.
Before getting into the actual content of the discussion, a few observations about the overall feel in the room. The audience was generally young, quite politically and socially liberal (both from the nature of the discussion and their preferred styles of clothing), and clearly very tech-savvy. As far as I could tell, there were no Salafis (who often sport long beards and traditional robes called galabiyyas) and no one who publicly identified with the Muslim Brotherhood. A sense of excitement pervaded the room as the discussion began, and as an outside observer it was hard not to get swept up in the moment. I never imagined last year when I was in Alexandria that this sort of discussion would be taking place just one year later in a post-Mubarak Egypt. It was impossible not to be inspired by several hundred people voluntarily coming together to talk about the future of their country. The level of energy and passion in the room – fed by the feeling that there is a real window of opportunity right now to shape Egypt’s political and economic future – was infectious.
Tonight’s topic was social justice, and the conversation mainly focused on economics. The microphone swiftly changed hands in the beginning of the meeting, with most of the attendees striking idealistic notes about the necessity of improving healthcare and education, raising the minimum wage, etc. Nothing revolutionary, but nevertheless a good way to start the program. After a brief digression in which the attendees argued amongst themselves about how the stock market functioned and whether it was or wasn’t necessary for the country’s future, the discussion heated up when a proud Communist stood up and admonished the crowd for not focusing on the real issues. “You all are forgetting the critical problem here,” he declared, “we need to stop talking about the minimum wage and the stock market and start talking about how to end the capitalist plague that is destroying our country! We must return to the basics and realize that capitalism is inherently unfair!”
The crowd’s attention instantly turned to broad, ideological issues. Instead of clapping, the moderator told the audience members to raise their arms and wave their hands when they agreed with a certain point, and judging by the amount of raised hands and smiles after that mini-Communist manifesto, the man had many allies in the room. Several like-minded thinkers expressed their support for the idea of completely overhauling Egypt’s system, inveighing against the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (among other foreign countries and institutions) for making the rich richer and the poor poorer while tacitly approving the pervasive corruption in the Mubarak regime.
The capitalists in the room were not as vocal, but a few brave souls did stand up to defend their position. “What we had in Egypt for the past 30 years,” one said, “was not capitalism. It was simply despotism.” Another chimed in: “we’ve tried socialism and it didn’t work!” While nobody endorsed the Mubarak regime’s version of capitalism, the capitalists did win a fair amount of head nods and raised hands during their responses to the communist and socialist salvos.
The back-and-forth debate between the capitalists and the communists/socialists continued for some time, but there were two speakers who I found particularly engaging. One man stood up in the middle of the debate and, quite calmly and skillfully, attacked both the capitalists and the communists at the same time: “This question of whether we should have a capitalist or a communist system here in Egypt is not as important,” he declared, “as this question: who will administer the system? If there is anything we have learned in the past 60 years, it is that no matter what ideology we follow, we are ultimately doomed to fail if we have bad leaders. Pick either one of these ideologies, but remember that our success or failure will ultimately be determined by who is making the decisions and not some theoretical framework for how things should work.” While I didn’t speak at the meeting and generally refrained from reacting to any of the statements from one side or the other, I couldn’t help but raise my hand in support of that statement. Soon afterwards, another man stood up and brought up an equally important point: “While it is important to talk about macroeconomics and large companies,” he said, “we also have to focus on small-scale issues. So many young people have business plans or inventions that they want to capitalize on, but our system makes it unbelievably hard for anyone to open their own business. Why should we have to get 15 permits from the government to open a small shop, and why is it so hard for us to get any start-up capital? Change has to come from the bottom, too, and we need to start by completely overhauling the system to make it easier for us young people to go into business for ourselves.” I, and many of the other people in the room, raised our hands in support of this point, too.
Finally, I was very interested by the constant comparisons of Egypt to other countries. Many people backed up their statements by saying “in America they do this” or “in Scandinavia they do that,” and there were several points in the discussion when people used specific examples from American political or economic history. Many of the moderates in the room advocated that Egypt look to northern European countries as models for how to balance capitalism and social justice, but just as many people shook their heads emphatically whenever someone said that Egyptians should look to foreign countries as they design their own system. One speaker garnered a sea of raised hands when he declared simply: “screw capitalism and communism, let’s invent a new and better system here in Egypt!” Nevertheless, America was certainly the most commonly referenced foreign country throughout the discussion. Interestingly, while there were occasional mentions of developing countries such as Brazil and Korea, no one said anything about the Chinese model.
As a whole, I would characterize the discussion as decidedly more focused on social justice and closing the gap between the rich and the poor than most discussions about economic issues in the U.S. Despite a rising culture of consumption here in Egypt and a tendency for the rich to flaunt their wealth, I think people are very conscious of the huge class divide that emerged during the Mubarak regime, and they want to take definite actions to solve the problem. “We must judge our government,” one woman declared, “on the basis of how it treats the weakest people in our society.” If this twitter nadwa is actually representative of the Egyptian liberal movement as a whole, I would expect to see a definite shift to more populist policies if they liberals gain a significant amount of seats in the parliamentary elections.
As I have written before, someone walking the streets of Egypt these days who didn’t know about what happened in January and February would probably not think that this country is undergoing dramatic changes. There are specific times, however, when the gravity of what is happening in Egypt hits you like a tsunami. Tonight was certainly one of those times, and I will certainly be returning to the next twitter nadwa. The attendees’ enthusiasm, optimism, and genuine desire to change their country for the better was truly inspiring.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The Arabeezy Phenomenon
The American University in Cairo is by far the most well-endowed university in Egypt. Its facilities resemble those at most universities in the United States, and its tuition is comparable to its counterparts in the U.S. as well. Because the cost of an AUC education is well beyond the means of an ordinary Egyptian family, the Egyptian students at AUC are primarily from the upper crust of society. As part of CASA’s “cultural exchange” program, we have had the opportunity to get to know a group of Egyptian AUC students. After several potlucks lunches, picnics, and other get-togethers, I have become particularly close with a few of the Egyptians. Like many of my friends in Alexandria, my AUC friends are smart, charismatic, and intellectually curious. They are just as interested in learning from us as we are in learning from them.
Most if not all of these AUC students speak English very well. Like other Egyptians who speak English with a high level of proficiency, however, they often speak a mixture of Arabic and English. This hybrid language is known in Egypt as "Arabeezy" (a mixture of "Arabic" and "Ingleezy," the Arabic word for English). Arabeezy speakers generally combine basic Arabic verbs, pronouns, and conjunctions with more complex English nouns and phrases. Sometimes an entire sentence will be in Arabic save for one key word (e.g. "I had a tough day at work today because there were so many customers" - every word would be Arabic except for "customers"), but I have also heard people intersperse Arabic and English words one after another throughout the sentence (e.g. "I'm studying economics because I want to work at a foreign company that has an office here in Cairo").
This code-switching seems to occur completely naturally. At the same time, I am highly skeptical that they are simply unable to distinguish between languages when they are speaking. Instead, I view Arabeezy as a status symbol related to class and education.* English is taught in every Egyptian school, but often not very well. When I taught English last year in Alexandria at a private learning center, for example, my college-aged students who had taken English throughout their primary and secondary education were still making entry-level mistakes. For them, Arabeezy consisted of trying to speak a few words in English followed by a lapse back into Arabic because they couldn't find the appropriate English word to finish their sentence. For these AUC students, however, their seemingly unconscious code-switching between English and Arabic clues anyone listening to them into their command of English -- a skill that is intimately tied to class and means. While I am not sure if they are purposefully trying to impress us Americans, there definitely seems to be an element of superiority compared to the average Egyptian who knows only the most basic English words and phrases.
There are two other factors that encourage the Arabeezy phenomenon as well. First is the tendency of many upper-class Egyptians to follow Western pop culture religiously. Many of the AUC students have seen more American movies than I have, and I was shocked by how many of them knew the lyrics to American songs that we sang together on our outing to a public park in Cairo last weekend. The desire to speak English instead of Arabic follows from this general interest in pop culture. Secondly, it is undeniable that English proficiency is a huge advantage in the Egyptian labor market. Many of the well-known companies in the Egyptian private sector conduct their business partially or sometimes fully in English, and English is also a basic requirement for anyone going into a tourism-related business. Thus, Egyptians may see Arabeezy as a way to practice their English - especially when they are speaking to native English speakers whom they know will understand the English words that they use.
As a student of Arabic, I find Arabeezy incredibly frustrating. While I understand the factors that drive Egyptians to want to speak English with me, I would much rather have them speak to me fully in English or fully in Arabic. Combining the two languages, however, prevents both of us from learning anything. One of the most important benefits of listening to native speakers speak is that you learn how to construct sentences and use vocabulary in the proper context. Code-switching in the middle of sentences distracts attention from sentence construction, and it also does not help the speaker learn how to use English phrases and words in the proper context. Having the ability to speak more than one language is truly a gift, but with great ability comes great responsibility. So, to all the Arabeezy speakers out there, I beg you: at the beginning of every conversation, just pick a language and stick with it!
* I am not this first to make this argument. For an excellent window into the political and social developments in Egypt over the past 60 years, see Galal Amin's book Whatever Happened to the Egyptians?.
Most if not all of these AUC students speak English very well. Like other Egyptians who speak English with a high level of proficiency, however, they often speak a mixture of Arabic and English. This hybrid language is known in Egypt as "Arabeezy" (a mixture of "Arabic" and "Ingleezy," the Arabic word for English). Arabeezy speakers generally combine basic Arabic verbs, pronouns, and conjunctions with more complex English nouns and phrases. Sometimes an entire sentence will be in Arabic save for one key word (e.g. "I had a tough day at work today because there were so many customers" - every word would be Arabic except for "customers"), but I have also heard people intersperse Arabic and English words one after another throughout the sentence (e.g. "I'm studying economics because I want to work at a foreign company that has an office here in Cairo").
This code-switching seems to occur completely naturally. At the same time, I am highly skeptical that they are simply unable to distinguish between languages when they are speaking. Instead, I view Arabeezy as a status symbol related to class and education.* English is taught in every Egyptian school, but often not very well. When I taught English last year in Alexandria at a private learning center, for example, my college-aged students who had taken English throughout their primary and secondary education were still making entry-level mistakes. For them, Arabeezy consisted of trying to speak a few words in English followed by a lapse back into Arabic because they couldn't find the appropriate English word to finish their sentence. For these AUC students, however, their seemingly unconscious code-switching between English and Arabic clues anyone listening to them into their command of English -- a skill that is intimately tied to class and means. While I am not sure if they are purposefully trying to impress us Americans, there definitely seems to be an element of superiority compared to the average Egyptian who knows only the most basic English words and phrases.
There are two other factors that encourage the Arabeezy phenomenon as well. First is the tendency of many upper-class Egyptians to follow Western pop culture religiously. Many of the AUC students have seen more American movies than I have, and I was shocked by how many of them knew the lyrics to American songs that we sang together on our outing to a public park in Cairo last weekend. The desire to speak English instead of Arabic follows from this general interest in pop culture. Secondly, it is undeniable that English proficiency is a huge advantage in the Egyptian labor market. Many of the well-known companies in the Egyptian private sector conduct their business partially or sometimes fully in English, and English is also a basic requirement for anyone going into a tourism-related business. Thus, Egyptians may see Arabeezy as a way to practice their English - especially when they are speaking to native English speakers whom they know will understand the English words that they use.
As a student of Arabic, I find Arabeezy incredibly frustrating. While I understand the factors that drive Egyptians to want to speak English with me, I would much rather have them speak to me fully in English or fully in Arabic. Combining the two languages, however, prevents both of us from learning anything. One of the most important benefits of listening to native speakers speak is that you learn how to construct sentences and use vocabulary in the proper context. Code-switching in the middle of sentences distracts attention from sentence construction, and it also does not help the speaker learn how to use English phrases and words in the proper context. Having the ability to speak more than one language is truly a gift, but with great ability comes great responsibility. So, to all the Arabeezy speakers out there, I beg you: at the beginning of every conversation, just pick a language and stick with it!
* I am not this first to make this argument. For an excellent window into the political and social developments in Egypt over the past 60 years, see Galal Amin's book Whatever Happened to the Egyptians?.
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