Anniversary of the revolution

Today is the second anniversary of the day that the revolution started.

The realisation that citizens could have an impact on politics, and that the haggard, complacent leaders of the previous thirty years were not invincible must have felt seismic.

A large proportion of the population is now happy to see a new leader who seems to represent them. Mohamed Morsi has provincial origins in the Nile Delta. His party, the Freedom and Justice Party, belongs to the Muslim Brotherhood, one of those organisations whose wings were clipped under Mubarak but are now stretching them wide and making its first flights. He is a devout Muslim and has brought his religion into the political realm, and is an advocate of the social implications this entails.

But today's atmosphere on the streets has not necessarily been celebratory. Mohamed Morsi has a sizable opposition to contend with, and they were out in force today, claiming that the path paved by the revolution has been hijacked. The Brotherhood and their Islamist allies are taking an increasing monopoly over political processes, and recently managed to rush through a constitution that represented first and foremost only their own interests.

Further afflicted by the country's deepening economic woes, the national opposition is becoming forlorn at where the revolution has led them. One development they can be proud of, however, is the new-found freedom to make this discontent clear. Protests, political organisation and the voicing of opposition take place in a far freer environment than they ever have done in Egypt. That achievement would not have been reached were it not for the protests that started in cities across the country two years ago today, most famously in Tahrir Square in Cairo, to whom the band CairoKee (featuring Aida El-Ayoubi) produced the following ode.

ياه يا الميدان كنت فين من زمان؟ هديت السور نورت النور لميت حوليك شعب مكسور اتولدنا من جديد واتولد الحلم العنيد بنختلف والنية صافية أوقات الصورة مكنتش واضحة هنصون بلادنا وأولاد ولادنا حق اللي راحوا من شبابنا

yāh yā_lmidān kuntə fēn min zamān haddīt issūr nawwart innūr lammīt ḥawlīk šaʕbə maksūr itwaladnā min gadīd w_itwalad ilḥilm ilʕanīd binixtalif w_inniyya ṣafya awʔāt iṣṣūra ma-kanitšə wadḥa hansūn biladnā wi_wlād wiladnā ḥaʔʔ illi raḥū min šababnā

Oh! Oh, Tahrir Square! Where were you all this time? You brought down the wall, you lighted the light You gathered around you a broken people We were born anew And so was a tenacious dream We've disagreed, but our intentions are pure Sometimes the vision wasn't clear We'll protect our country and our children's children And the rights of the young ones we've lost

The above is the second verse of the song, sung by the 90s star Aida El-Ayoubi. It is one of her first musical appearances after ten years of retirement. My translation is based on that by one of the bloggers on Wil Ya Wil, one of the beacons of Egyptian post-revolutionary social media.

Street art of the revolution

In a country where everyday life has been upheaved in the name of democracy, it is reasonable for citizens to want to do everything they can to feel that their new-found voices are being listened to. Perhaps this is an explanation behind the massive increase in graffiti since the start of the revolution. What better medium can there be for an artist to feel their voice is gaining exposure than to publish it across a large, blank wall?

"Street art ... connotes a decentralized, democratic form in which there is universal access, and the real control over messages comes from the social producers. It is a barometer that registers the spectrum of thinking, especially during democratic openings."

(Lyman G. Chaffe, Political Protest and Street Art)

An article released today by AFP describes how on the walls of Cairo, President Morsi can be found depicted as "a pharaoh, an octopus, a snake, a clown or a hero, depending on which side of the political divide the artist falls".

Specifically, the article reports on one piece of street art in Cairo that succinctly summarises the Egyptian revolution so far. The three sentences of graffiti read: "2011: Down with Mubarak's rule! 2012: Down with military rule! 2013: Down with Brotherhood rule!".

These chants, rather like the الشعب يريد | aššaʕb yurīd chant that I described in my last post, are of a formulaic nature and have been applied to various different leaders in Egypt's post-revolutionary history. In 2011:

يسقط يسقط حسني مبارك

yasquṭ yasquṭ ḥosni mubārak

Down with Hosni Mubarak!

After Mubarak's departure in February 2011, leadership of the country was entrusted to the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces. But even by April, major protests were occurring again, this time against the new leaders:

يسقط يسقط حكم المشير يسقط يسقط حكم العسكر

yasquṭ yasquṭ ḥakm almušīr yasquṭ yasquṭ ḥakm alʕaskar

Down with the rule of the Field Marshal! Down with military rule!

After more than one turbulent year in power, the leadership of the country was handed over to Mohamed Morsi, who was sworn in in June 2012. The opposition, whose concerns I describe in my next post, once again adapted the chant:

يسقط يسقط حكم المرشد يسقط يسقط حكم الإخوان

yasquṭ yasquṭ ḥakm almuršid yasquṭ yasquṭ ḥakm alʔixwān

Down with the rule of the Supreme Guide (of the Brotherhood)! Down with Brotherhood rule!

Violence outside Alex police trials

Police clashed with demonstrators today along the Corniche after a judge investigating the killing of protesters announced the case would be transferred to another court.

Only a week remains until the second anniversary of the revolution during which, according to Amnesty International, 840 people died. Trials are still ongoing for many of the security officials held responsible for civilian deaths.

One such trial had been taking place this weekend in Alexandria, where around 300 people died in the revolution. Family members of the martyrs gathered alongside other demonstrators outside Alexandria Criminal Court, where two security heads, as well as four other officers have been standing trial.

The judge's announcement that the case would be transferred led to an eruption of anger both within and outside the courthouse. Protesters hurled rocks and fireworks, and the police responded with tear gas and bird-shot. At least two police cars were hijacked and eventually set alight, along with legal documents that were raided from the courtroom.

The following video is footage I took from our rooftop on the Corniche, the promenade that runs around the city's Eastern Harbour.

These events would look out of place on this blog if there wasn't some sort of language learning involved. The chant that can be heard from the ten second mark is one that has swelled up in every Arab country undergoing revolution:

الشعب يريد إسقاط النظام

aššaʔb yurīd ʔisqāṭ anniẓām

The people want to bring down the regime

The phrase originated in Tunisia in the revolution of late 2010, but it's not Tunisian Colloquial Arabic. The young people of Sidi Bouzid, the epicentre of the Tunisian revolution, or perhaps those of the neighbouring towns to which the revolutionary fever spread, must have made a conscious decision to demand the fall of the regime in Modern Standard Arabic. The pan-Arab nature of MSA facilitated its spread to Libya, Egypt, Syria and other Arab countries where upheaval is underway.

Chants like these have become formulaic and can be adapted, depending on what it is exactly that the people want. When the judges announced at Alexandria Criminal Court that they were transferring the case, a feeling of betrayal brought about the following chant from demonstrators:

الشعب يريد تطهير القضاء

aššaʔb yurīd taṭhīr alqaḍāʔ

The people want to purge the judiciary

You'll just have to believe me that these phrases sound more rousing in Arabic than they do in English.