Going back and forth reviewing posts written a year or two ago, I reposted a piece from 2012, titled "Um Ahmed, an Egyptian woman." It had addressed the duties expected of President Morsi’s wife, Um Ahmed, or any Egyptian First Lady for that matter. My expectations of Mrs. Sisi, Egypt’s current First lady, are almost indistinguishable from my expectations of Um Ahmed, though the latter failed miserably during Morsi’s term.
The years seem to have passed indistinctly, but Egypt, its men, and its women, have changed quite distinctly.
The January 25th, 2011, Revolution
As immensely huge as January 25th was, most Egyptians stayed at home and watched, perturbed and daunted, though willfully ready for change.
But in the meantime, Egyptians gained a level of political sophistication that no one can deny. Egyptians became more concerned and more disturbed about their country—a radical concept in itself; glued to TV screens to watch political debates, elections, and speeches, they commented vehemently. Soap operas, which used to be the ultimate antidote, are placed on the back burner.
As Egyptians became very knowledgeable and acutely aware of their state of affairs and their rights, they also became more outspoken. Query the most modest and simplistic person, say a vendor selling arugula and radishes at the corner street, and the woman will have a say on Egyptian political affairs. This woman never had aspirations, never considered voting, yet now has a say about Egyptian politics and, most probably voted, too. If this isn’t progress, I don’t know what is.
Still, freedom of speech—the right to say as one pleases—is a double-edged sword. It enables Egyptians to ask for their rights but simultaneously allows them to denounce whomever and whatever they please.
But a more menacing consequence was how Egyptians came to view both the security apparatus and the judiciary system, not that they had honoured them earlier on, but at least they showed some due respect.
The police force, after the attacks on prisons and police stations in January 2011 disappeared into thin air. Egyptians detested this act feeling betrayed and deserted. The army took over but was soon met with the same disdain. Both, the army and the police force, lost the regard of Egyptians, and, accordingly, lost the will and the ability to perform their duties.
The judiciary system was dealt the same blow. Egyptians presumed its corruption and bias. As a result, if a guilty person was convicted, his family ransacked the courtroom. If a ban was imposed on reporting on certain court cases, the information was leaked out immediately, and if a case was postponed, the exiting defendants were pelted with rocks.
It didn’t take the Muslim Brotherhood long to make perfect use of the mayhem and move right in. A glum and bleak year it was: June 30th, 2012, to June 30th. 2013.
The June 30th, 2013, Revolution
On June 30th Egyptians did not watch from the comfort of their homes or via safe TV screens; they, the masses, went to the streets to voice their love for Egypt and their hatred of Morsi. Albeit, had January 25th not changed them, Egyptians, though grudgingly, may have waited Morsi’s term out.
After January 25th, Egyptians gained the right to speak openly; this will never be deterred. Egyptians will remain outspoken forever, but even this attitude may have changed after June 30th. To Egyptians, President Sisi, Ex-President Adly Mansour, and Pope Tawadross are perfect examples of how delivering one’s message in a soft but resolute fashion beats yelling and shouting at your audience, something President Morsi perfected.
After January 25th, Egyptians became more acutely aware of their rights, but after June 30th, they also became mindful of their duties. They have high aspirations but understand that to affect change they will have to work to attain it.
But the major effect of June 30th is in the respect and regard towards the judiciary system and the security apparatus.
President Adly Mansour represented the judiciary system to the masses, and the man gained their esteem. Mansour didn’t aspire to become Egypt’s next permanent leader; he refused the president’s salary operating on his Supreme Court one; and teary-eyed, he thanked Egyptians in his farewell speech—traits gaining him a special fondness amongst Egyptians, all this in addition to his carrying the burden of a flailing country during its hard times. If the judiciary system can give Egypt a man such as Adly Mansour, then the judiciary system in general must be good, Egyptians think.
Egyptians also appreciated the judges on the Election Committee and their conduct during elections. They also valued the members of the Supreme Egyptian Court who swore President Sisi in.
Today no Egyptian in his right mind would dare vandalize a courtroom. Even when the Minya Court announced its harsh verdict of 529 death sentences, those in the courtroom did not go beyond shouting their disgruntlement.
Then we have the security apparatus: as much as the humiliation they got after January 25th was painful as much as the respect bestowed upon them after June 30th was rewarding. As one Rafah massacre after another occurred, as one police headquarter after another was destroyed, and as Egyptians watched the army and police force bury their own, they realized how much went into defending Egypt.
Sisi’s stand against Morsi’s tyranny brought an end to any doubts in the minds of Egyptians. The army and the police force are there to protect not harm.
But the most significant change of all lies in the resurgence of the love of Egypt, and this is the culmination of both revolutions. The dispassionate Egyptians have gone forever. The I-don’t-care-what-happens-to-this-country attitude will never return.
This is a new Egypt.
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