Mubarak’s 30-year rule in Egypt, the more remarkable and heroic they seem. Egyptians can hardly believe what they achieved in Tahrir Square and the running battles of Alexandria and Suez. And now they celebrate not just freedom and the novelty of publicly debating their country’s future, but a new sense of dignity and self-worth. The confidence of these highly educated young Arabs, who were brought up on Al Jazeera and came of age with social media, has spread across the region like a rapid 60s youthquake. One young protester quotes President Obama’s enabling ”Yes we can” when I ask him why his generation rose up. What he is perhaps also saying is ”Why on earth not?”
They knew that violence would be unleashed on them when they joined up with veteran opposition groups. It was understood that the indispensable accoutrements of the elderly Arab dictator—apart from hair dye—are torture and extrajudicial killing, that the more desperate a regime becomes, the more willing it is to send young men to torture cells and then arrange for their disappearance. But in January this became a unifying factor, rather than a deterrent, as Heba Morayef, a researcher for Human Rights Watch in Cairo, points out: ”Police abuse is the one cross-class, cross-gender experience that people are aware of.”
The Tunisian and Egyptian uprisings were each sparked by revulsion at the treatment of a young man. In Tunisia it was a 26-year-old fruit seller named Mohamed Bouazizi, who set fire to himself in protest after police confiscated his wares and he was slapped by a public official. In Egypt, people rallied to the story of a 28-year-old named Khaled Said, who was beaten to death in public by two police officers in Alexandria last June. Illicit pictures of Said’s mangled face, taken in the morgue, inspired a Google executive named Wael Ghonim (right) to put together an anonymous Facebook page, called ”We Are All Khaled Said,” and later to announce the date of January 25—National Police Day—for protests.
And then came the Tahrir Square revolution, a virtual force of nature that unleashed the ambitions and anger of millions, ousted an entrenched autocrat and inspired a resurgence of that famously biting Egyptian wit. It was in the placards, the slogans, the banners and the antics; it was passed along through the Internet, text messaging and even local newspapers.
“A lot of people think the humor went down three or four years ago, when people got depressed, and that it resurfaced in Tahrir Square,” said Issandr El Amrani, a popular blogger and independent journalist in Egypt.
There were placards: “Go, because I need to study,” and “I’m a dentist here to uproot Mubarak.” And historical observations: “Nasser was killed by poison, Sadat by a bullet and Mubarak by Facebook.”
But now that moment has passed, damped by the recognition that for many people life today is even harder than before, especially for the poor and for those who survive on tourism — like the army of taxi drivers who are forced to battle ever worsening traffic for ever fewer passengers.
They knew that violence would be unleashed on them when they joined up with veteran opposition groups. It was understood that the indispensable accoutrements of the elderly Arab dictator—apart from hair dye—are torture and extrajudicial killing, that the more desperate a regime becomes, the more willing it is to send young men to torture cells and then arrange for their disappearance. But in January this became a unifying factor, rather than a deterrent, as Heba Morayef, a researcher for Human Rights Watch in Cairo, points out: ”Police abuse is the one cross-class, cross-gender experience that people are aware of.”
The Tunisian and Egyptian uprisings were each sparked by revulsion at the treatment of a young man. In Tunisia it was a 26-year-old fruit seller named Mohamed Bouazizi, who set fire to himself in protest after police confiscated his wares and he was slapped by a public official. In Egypt, people rallied to the story of a 28-year-old named Khaled Said, who was beaten to death in public by two police officers in Alexandria last June. Illicit pictures of Said’s mangled face, taken in the morgue, inspired a Google executive named Wael Ghonim (right) to put together an anonymous Facebook page, called ”We Are All Khaled Said,” and later to announce the date of January 25—National Police Day—for protests.
And then came the Tahrir Square revolution, a virtual force of nature that unleashed the ambitions and anger of millions, ousted an entrenched autocrat and inspired a resurgence of that famously biting Egyptian wit. It was in the placards, the slogans, the banners and the antics; it was passed along through the Internet, text messaging and even local newspapers.
“A lot of people think the humor went down three or four years ago, when people got depressed, and that it resurfaced in Tahrir Square,” said Issandr El Amrani, a popular blogger and independent journalist in Egypt.
There were placards: “Go, because I need to study,” and “I’m a dentist here to uproot Mubarak.” And historical observations: “Nasser was killed by poison, Sadat by a bullet and Mubarak by Facebook.”
But now that moment has passed, damped by the recognition that for many people life today is even harder than before, especially for the poor and for those who survive on tourism — like the army of taxi drivers who are forced to battle ever worsening traffic for ever fewer passengers.
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