“Preliminary Historical Observations on the Arab Revolutions of 2011”

Historian Rashid Khalidi spoke on “Preliminary Historical Observations on the Arab Revolutions of 2011,” and there was something refreshing in his perspective. He has studied and followed the history and politics of the Arab world for decades and to hear him thanking the Egyptian people for what they have accomplished was, frankly, touching. It was similar to what I felt when I heard Robert Fisk saying this is the happiest story he has covered in 35 years in the region. Analysts of the region who I read and admire, and who have been staunch critics of its authoritarian regimes, seem genuinely happy, at times almost giddy. A kind of “this is it” moment that even the most cynical and critical among us must recognize.

This was particularly valuable at this precise moment, following last week when serious attacks on demonstrators raised serious questions about the direction in which things are moving. And still, we are no closer to being able to answer those questions this week. And while the response should not be one of self-satisfaction, it does seem useful to keep this wide-angle view within our sights at all times.

There are a few additional notes from the talk I wanted to share.

• One of his main arguments was that throughout the past two centuries of non-violent and democratic revolutions in this region, those taking place mark the end of the old anti-colonialist nationalism in that they are not mainly against foreign occupation.
• He believes that US public opinion—overwhelming support for the Egyptian demonstrators—forced the US government to moderate its own positions driven by economic interest.
• He sees a revolution in US media coverage, where the standard talking heads no longer have anything to say, and forcing an entirely new approach to the region from outlets like CNN.

And a couple of pieces of information—not news, but new to me.

• In the past ten years, the poverty rate in Egypt (those making less than $200 per month) has increased from 39% to 43%.
• Egypt and Tunisia both have 70% literacy rates.
• The tear gas that was used against peaceful protesters in Tahrir Square in from Pennsylvania. It had been widely discussed as coming from the US, which I knew. But I had not realized, until his talk and a followup google search, they were manufactured by Combined Systems Inc. in Jamestown, Pennsylvania. This was widely reported, including on CNN, but I somehow missed the Pennsylvania part of the story. (Maybe because there was no internet here for the week.)

On shredded paper

So the latest, and amazing news, are the demonstrations at state security offices throughout the country, beginning with Alexandria. In addition to the goal of toppling state security (and the verdict is still out it seems), folks in Alexandria liberated political prisoners still held in prison. Incredible. Activists breaking people out. And the other amazing project has been people in the offices trying to save as much documentation as possible and to prevent the agency from shredding and burning its records. So, activists went in with digital cameras and started taking pictures which were and continue to be posted online. It is really amazing, and while there does seem to be some pushback at several sites, I remain in awe of the brilliant things protestors continue to do in the interest of transparency, justice, and history.

Among the photos were several of bags of shredded paper from the offices. This reminded me of something I read a couple of years ago (and had not heard before). When the US Embassy in Tehran was taken over in 1979, US diplomats anticipated the impending attack by shredding all of its files. Iranian activists, however, saved all of the shredded paper and spent years putting it all back together! The results of the years of hard work was the publication in multiple volumes of all of these shredded documents. I hope those bags of shredded documents meet a similar fate to those from the US Embassy in Tehran.

Scenes from the Maadi Festival

Yesterday I took R to a Revolution Festival that was happening in my neighborhood. Tons of flags. Lots of music. Fun for all (except those caught in the traffic). It was originally scheduled for last Friday, the one-month anniversary of the start of the revolution but there had been a police shooting a couple of days earlier (another story) so it was rescheduled. And it was able to celebrate another victory—the departure of the former Prime Minister.

There were thousands of people out. The street was closed. There were volunteers doing security though I, with a baby stroller, was quickly waved around the side so I would not have to wait. R was something of a celebrity and made lots of friends.

There was not a lot of politicking going on. It was mostly commercial with people advertising or selling one thing or other. The Egyptian Revolution sponsored in part by Auntie Anne’s soft pretzels. (No I am not making this up.)

I was slightly heartened, however, to see that the most lively table was that featuring supporters of the protesters in Libya.

What did amaze me about this scene was how unfamiliar it was. Here we have a country where the streets now belong to the people to do with them what they choose—from politicking to partying and, at its best, both at the same time. I ran into some students there—the main demographic was 15-25 year olds—and talked to them about how novel they found this scene. And I think this is one of the legacies of the revolution—the reinvention of public space.

I wish I had taken more pictures. My camera batteries were low. I had the foresight to purchase new ones but forgot to bring them along.

"I take my goals from you, and I promise you, if I cannot fulfill those objectives, I will come and join you as a protester."

I went to class on Thursday morning and when I got out the country has a new Prime Minister. Unbelievable. Ahmed Shafiq, who was a holdover from the Mubarak regime, was deeply unpopular and huge protests were planned to call for his resignation or removal on Friday. He was replaced by the military by a Essam Sharaf, a figure who the opposition leaders had proposed—a former Transportation Minister who resigned from the Mubarak government several years ago in protest, and who even joined the protests in Tahrir Square.

After Shafiq’s resignation, I spoke to a student who, like me, was in shock at the pace of the changes taking place. He was, also like me, a bit cautious. What does this mean? Is this a power play by the military? Or is there another explanation? And of course, the skeptic in me wants to approach it cynically. Prime Ministers aren’t replaced because the people protest and want it. But then, I thought, of course they are. And I had this conversation with the student—this is entirely logical. Why would those in power not listen to the people? They should. It makes sense. They have learned the lessons of the past month—the enormous power of people. Millions of people. In the street. It really makes perfect sense.

I guess I had a random thought about the labor protests in Wisconsin, and now spreading throughout the midwest US. I have seen and heard commentary comparing the situation there to this region. While there were some really inspiring signs of solidarity on both parts (pro-Wisconsin signs in Tahrir Square and vise versa), it seemed too facile for me. But what finally hit me was this revelation of what participatory democracy can look like. Because while the causes in both places are completely different, the common ground seems to lie in the belief that lasting change can happen through direct action. When I was protesting in New York in the lead up to the US invasion of Iraq, I thought the best possible outcome was to slow down the imperial war machine. The invasion could be delayed. A visible US opposition could convince US allies not to support the invasion. And I believe that we may have succeeded in those respects, though the ongoing tragedy makes it hard to find any kind of victory in those achievements. However, what I have witnessed in Egypt has forced me to reconsider everything I thought I knew about the possibilities of political action.

Two additional scenes from the surreal world I live in:

• On Wednesday night, the eve of his resignation/removal, the Prime Minister debated Egypt’s most famous writer (and an outspoken opposition figure) on television. A political debate! And a novelist!
• This morning (Friday), the new Prime Minister went back to Tahrir Square and proclaimed: "I take my goals from you, and I promise you, if I cannot fulfill those objectives, I will come and join you as a protester."

De-Mubarakization of the Metro

From the Metro station formerly known as Mubarak...


















From the NY Times. Photo and article by Mohamed El Dahshan. See the article here.

The Station Formerly Known As Mubarak

On Sunday, I rode the subway downtown and as I was exiting the car, I noticed a “correction” on the line map that appeared above the door. The “Mubarak” station was crossed out by a marker. I figured its renaming, and the renaming of anything associated with the former regime was inevitable (and this includes a room on our university campus). But I was touched to see it done so directly. So on my ride home, I was careful to check every available map, perhaps a half-dozen in all, and all of them had “Mubarak” crossed.

I wish I had a camera to take a picture of the sign. (I really should have one with me at all times.) It is a small thing, so small that I did not even notice it last week when I went downtown on the metro (and I am sure it had already been erased then).

As for Tahrir itself, it was still lively as there were still demonstrations taking place at various positions around the square. The largest congregation, I guess, may have been 1,000 people, and there were several smaller groups of perhaps a couple of hundred. There was a strike a couple of blocks off the square, at a bank building as well. There were army officers standing watch, but they did not appear to be positioned aggressively, but after Friday night, it seems like all bets are off.

Barbershop

I went to get my haircut last night. The young guys there who have been cutting my hair for the past three years were visibly giddy. I was actually last there on January 25, the day the protests began, and one of the barbers told me, with a note of cynicism, that nothing would come of it. That was a refrain that I heard repeated by Egyptian friends during the first couple of days.

Last night was a different story. He was trying to convince me to try a new hairstyle—for the revolution, he explained. (For what its worth, these folks are Coptic Christians, which I mention to emphasize the point that this revolution has widespread popular support and is not religious, as it sometimes has been portrayed though I think and hope this notion is now thoroughly discredited.) Add to the scene a television, which was showing Qadafi’s long speech (not the 30-second one). The speech was surreal. It was fun watching it there, and that took the edge of the devastating tragedy of what is happening there..

It is hard to describe the excitement of people, and what is happening on so many of the city’s streets. So many of these scenes seem like bad nationalist propaganda, with citizens working together happily and joyfully. But the new rainbow murals in my neighborhood are real. I will try to take some pictures.