by Ayman El-Sayyad (أيمن الصياد)
Published in the May 2006 issue of Weghat Nazar (وجهات نظر), Egypt
Original title: سيف القوة.. وميزان العدل: « المواطن » يحمل السكين
(For background on the topic of this article, please see Muslim-Christian Relations in Egypt.)
It doesn’t matter at all whether the ‘citizen’ who appears in this picture holding a knife in front of a church in Alexandria is a Muslim or a Copt. Nor does it matter what his full name is, or where he lives, or what his ‘national’ ID card number is, all of which belongs to the category of details that may interest the authorities responsible for criminal or legal investigations, or ‘people’s moral sensibilities’.
What matters is that this ‘citizen’ who went out into the street, called to battle, holding a knife, isn’t a member of an extremist organisation that targets members of the other religion, as was sometimes the case before 1999. On the contrary, he is an ordinary ‘citizen’ who is absolutely convinced (and this is the core of the problem) that he cannot defend himself, or obtain what he ‘imagines’ he is entitled to, except by force and violence — and the knife.
How did we get here?
First, we must recognise that we live in a state of tension (social and not merely sectarian tension) that Central Security’s truncheons will not calm, and that their tear gas, however thick it becomes, will not hide.
Second, we must recognise that a state of high tension, though we may deny it, is now under everyone’s skin, and that a knife, though we may ignore it, is now close to everyone’s hand.
Third, we should worry when we observe that some people don’t realise, or perhaps don’t want to believe, that the powder keg is now closer to igniting than we think, closer than at any time in the past. As if no one wants to see the fire under the ashes. Even though the Central Security revolt in 1986, in case we had forgotten — and we must remember — came without any warning, with no need for any organisation, cadres or ‘first press release’. But at the end of the day, or at the end of the ‘surprise’, they drove tanks into the streets and fear into our souls.
***
How did we get here?
Doesn’t this picture, and this gleaming knife, remind you of a similar picture, published here only a few months ago (last September), showing the conspicuous, unprecedented thuggery that occurred outside the polling stations [during the parliamentary elections]?
At the time, everyone resorted to violence. Perhaps. But the State, whether it used violence, or colluded in it, or turned a blind eye to it — (which it did), is the main culprit.
At the time, those who chose to resort to ‘truncheons and knives’ in order to guarantee their majority didn’t realise how dangerous it is for society to accept the idea that force or violence is the ‘only’ way to reach one’s aims (whether they be good or bad).
At the time, some of them didn’t reflect a great deal before declaring, in the ‘official’ press, that the legal verdicts issued on the eve of the elections ‘would not be taken into consideration’. Just like that! They didn’t realise how dangerous it is for ordinary citizens to despair of being able to have recourse to litigation, ‘as a peaceful means of resolving conflicts’. Nor did they realise that when the judiciary’s hands are tied to keep it from protecting the victims of injustice, everyone’s security is threatened, and the very concept of the State is in danger.
At the time, for the sake of narrow electoral calculations, some people weren’t ashamed to spread a state of ‘panic’ among this country’s Copts after a number of Islamists won seats in Parliament via the ballot box. Even the ruling party, which, since it has a majority, is supposed to be responsible for the whole fabric of society, seemed at the time as if it had assigned the sacred mission of ‘spreading panic’ to some of its favourite journalists.
At the time, we warned against pushing Copts towards political one-upmanship, against constantly playing on the string of fear, the string that spreads panic, in whose mounting, dissonant echoes some people seemed to be calling on every ‘citizen’ to put a knife under his pillow, expectantly, as a precaution.
At the time, again for the sake of shortsighted security calculations, ‘the decision-makers’ thwarted more than one attempt (some, as it happened, among Alexandrians) to promote mutual understanding between Muslims and Copts on the basis of the concept of ‘citizenship’, on the initiative of those newcomers in Parliament whose election had irritated some people. These attempts, had they reached completion, would have tended to bring about a ‘better’ climate than the suffocating, oppressive atmosphere in which the streets of that calm northern seaside town were crowded with the ready, the angry… and the knife-wielding.
***
Why did we get here?
Those who believe that what happened in Alexandria was ‘just a sectarian matter’ are mistaken, as are those who see the pictures of the drawn knives, in front of the Saints Church, as disconnected from the overall political scene, which is haunted by violence and ‘despair’.
Perhaps we are all responsible, in one way or another, for the climate of drawn knives. But we repeat: by definition, the State — whether it was involved, or colluded, or turned a blind eye, ‘flaunting its power, denying its sins out of pride’ — is still the main culprit. Otherwise, how can we describe these official, ‘crude’ battles with judges, journalists, students and professionals in various syndicates? How can we describe what emerged in the ‘official’ report of the Human Rights Council concerning citizens arrested and detained without any legal basis, confirmed cases of torture, and legal verdicts that those in power have ignored, considering them ‘mere ink on paper’?
How can we describe the closing of the Alexandria University faculty club with chains, to keep the faculty from convening their general meeting, even though the judiciary ruled that the meeting was legal? Is that not thuggery, a ‘knife’ that the State, or some of its agencies, is brandishing in the faces of academics?
And after all this — or rather in the midst of it — how can we describe the opening of an investigation concerning ‘renowned’ court judges, who are accused not of bribery, or profiteering, or influence-peddling, but rather of calling for the truth to be uncovered about what happened in the last parliamentary elections? Isn’t a judge’s mission, by definition, to uncover the truth?
Why, in our Egypt, which has known the concept of the State for thousands of years, has the sword of power risen above the scales of justice?
Here we are, brandishing the ‘knife’ of intimidation in the judges’ faces. And though some of us may rejoice in the immediate consequences, the very concept of the State, which by definition is based on ‘law and order’ and thus on ‘respect for the law and its guardians’, will be the first victim.
***
So the ‘sword of power’ may triumph. Because of its absolute power over the ‘scales of justice’, which are the judges’ only weapon, the regime maintains a firm grip on this sword. But the final result will be much more dangerous than the shortsighted believe: we will all come out losers. For when it is clear to everyone that ‘force is above justice’, people will seek to secure their rights and their safety with knives, chains and swords.
Please reflect carefully on this picture.
