November 12, Defend the Revolution: A letter from Cairo to Occupy / Decolonize movements

From Egypt’s Campaign to End Military Trials of Civilians, this is worth reproducing in full:

Call-Out for Solidarity with Egypt: Defend the Revolution

© Adam Dot 2011

A letter from Cairo to the Occupy/Decolonize movements & other solidarity movements.

After three decades of living under a dictatorship, Egyptians started a revolution demanding bread, freedom and social justice. After a nearly utopian occupation of Tahrir Square lasting 18 days, we rid ourselves of Mubarak and began the second, harder, task of removing his apparatuses of power. Mubarak is gone, but the military regime lives on. So the revolution continues – building pressure, taking to the streets and claiming the right to control our lives and livelihoods against systems of repression that abused us for years. But now, seemingly so soon after its beginnings, the revolution is under attack. We write this letter to tell you about what we are seeing, how we mean to stand against this crackdown, and to call for your solidarity with us.

  • The 25th and 28th of January, the 11th of February: you saw these days, lived these days with us on television. But we have battled through the 25th of February, the 9th of March, the 9th of April, the 15th of May, the 28th of June, the 23rd of July, the 1st of August, the 9th of September, the 9th of October. Again and again the army and the police have attacked us, beaten us, arrested us, killed us. And we have resisted, we have continued; some of these days we lost, others we won, but never without cost. Over a thousand gave their lives to remove Mubarak. Many more have joined them in death since. We go on so that their deaths will not be in vain. Names like Ali Maher (a 15 year old demonstrator killed by the army in Tahrir, 9th of April), Atef Yehia (shot in the head by security forces in a protest in solidarity with Palestine, 15th of May), Mina Danial (shot by the Army in a protest in front of Masepro, 9th of October). Mina Daniel, in death, suffers the perverse indignity of being on the military prosecutor’s list of the accused.
  • Moreover, since the military junta took power, at least 12,000 of us have been tried by military courts, unable to call witnesses and with limited access to lawyers. Minors are serving in adult prisons, death sentences have been handed down, torture runs rampant. Women demonstrators have been subjected to sexual assault in the form of “virginity tests” by the Army.
  • On October 9th, the Army massacred 28 of us at Maspero; they ran us over with tanks andshot us down in the street while manipulating state media to try and incite sectarian violence. The story has been censored. The military is investigating itself. They are systematically targeting those of us who speak out. This Sunday, our comrade and blogger Alaa Abd El Fattah was imprisoned on trumped-up charges. He spends another night in an unlit cell tonight.
  • All this from the military that supposedly will ensure a transition to democracy, that claimed to defend the revolution, and seemingly convinced many within Egypt and internationally that it was doing so. The official line has been one of ensuring “stability”, with empty assurances that the Army is only creating a proper environment for the upcoming elections. But even once a new parliament is elected, we will still live under a junta that holds legislative, executive, and judicial authority, with no guarantee that this will end. Those who challenge this scheme are harassed, arrested, and tortured; military trials of civilians are the primary tool of this repression. The prisons are full of casualties of this “transition”.
We now refuse to co-operate with military trials and prosecutions. We will not hand ourselves in, we will not submit ourselves to questioning. If they want us, they can take us from our homes and workplaces.

Nine months into our new military repression, we are still fighting for our revolution. We are marching, occupying, striking, shutting things down. And you, too, are marching, occupying, striking, shutting things down. We know from the outpouring of support we received in January that the world was watching us closely and even inspired by our revolution. We felt closer to you than ever before. And now, it’s your turn to inspire us as we watch the struggles of your movements. We marched to the US Embassy in Cairo to protest the violent eviction of the occupation in Oscar Grant Plaza in Oakland. Our strength is in our shared struggle. If they stifle our resistance, the 1% will win – in Cairo, New York, London, Rome – everywhere. But while the revolution lives our imaginations knows no bounds. We can still create a world worth living.
You can help us defend our revolution.
The G8, IMF and Gulf states are promising the regime loans of $35 billion. The US gives the Egyptian military $1.3 billion in aid every year. Governments the world over continue their long-term support and alliance with the military rulers of Egypt. The bullets they kill us with are made in America. The tear gas that burns from Oakland to Palestine is made in Wyoming. David Cameron’s first visit to post-revolutionary Egypt was to close a weapons deal. These are only a few examples. People’s lives, freedoms and futures must stop being trafficked for strategic assets. We must unite against governments who do not share their people’s interests.
We are calling on you to undertake solidarity actions to help us oppose this crackdown. We are suggesting an International Day to Defend the Egyptian Revolution on Nov 12th under the slogan “Defend the Egyptian Revolution – End Military Trials for Civilians.” Events could include:
  • Actions targeting Egyptian Embassies or Consulates demanding the release of civilians sentenced in military tribunals. If Alaa is released, demand the release of the thousands of others.
  • Actions targeting your government to end support for the Egyptian junta.
  • Demand the release of civilians sentenced to military tribunals. If Alaa is released, the thousands of others must follow.
  • Project videos about the repression we face (military trials, Maspero massacre) and our continued resistance. Email us for links.
  • Videoconferencing with activists in Egypt
  • Any creative way to show your support, and to show the Egyptian people that they have allies abroad.
If you’re organising anything or wish to, email us at  We would also love to see photos and videos from any events you organize.
The Campaign to End Military Trials of Civilians
The Free Alaa Campaign
Comrades from Cairo

“The marginalized are always the core”: Free Alaa Abd el Fattah

Big Brother is guarding you

Posters are spreading like blotchy fungus on bare walls in Cairo and Alexandria. Smiling from them is the head of the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), Field Marshal Mohamed Hussein Tantawi. The posters say “Egypt above all” and “The people demand stability.” They call for electing Tantawi President of the Republic.

A coalition of  “3,000 lawyers, businessmen, physicians and other professionals” boldly claims responsibility for the posters — boldly, because of course they are a terrible insult to Egypt’s armed forces. After all, the military has sworn it doesn’t want power, and that it’ll surrender it in 2011, or 2012, or 2013 … well, the dates keep changing, but the promise stays the same. Nothing could be more offensive than to suggest the generals might be induced to change their minds. Surely, then, these debauched souls will be charged with defaming the guardians of Egypt, a serious crime, and tried in military courts, and tortured, and probably their links to the Mossad, the US Embassy, and other foreign forces will be dredged up to discredit them. Already, with amazing effrontery, their antics are being praised on state TV! But surely a righteous vengeance can’t be long in coming.

Or maybe not. Justice in Egypt is a bit more selective.

In Tahrir: Alaa Abd el Fattah

Instead, military authorities arrested Alaa Abd el Fattah on October 30. Alaa, 29, is one of Egypt’s best-known revolutionary activists and bloggers.  He was accused of inciting violence against the junta –the violence being the Maspero assaults of October 9, when the military cracked down on a demonstration for Copts’ rights and killed at least 25 protesters.  (As an added insult, Mina Danial, a revolutionary activist brutally murdered in the Maspero attack, was named in Alaa’s interrogation as one of his “accomplices.”)

His real crime was that he’d publicly said the military bore full responsibility for the October 9 killings. On his way to his arrest on Sunday, he told a reporter the army “committed a massacre, a horrible crime, and now they are working on framing someone else for it … Instead of launching a proper investigation, they are sending activists to trial for saying the plain truth and that is that the army committed a crime in cold blood.”

He was ordered held for 15 days, renewable at the military’s discretion. Yesterday, his wife Manal smuggled out a letter; the Guardian prints it here. He writes of being the only political prisoner

in a cell with eight men who shouldn’t be here; poor, helpless, unjustly held – the guilty among them and the innocent. As soon as they learned I was one of the “young people of the revolution” they started to curse out the revolution and how it had failed to clean up the ministry of the interior. I spend my first two days listening to stories of torture at the hands of a police force that insists on not being reformed; that takes out its defeat on the bodies of the poor and the helpless.

Last week, Essam Atta was tortured to death in Cairo’s Tora Prison for smuggling in a sim card, to communicate similarly with the outside. In retribution, guards raped him with a running water hose. Despite the danger, Alaa Abd el Fattah insisted his letter be published.

I know Alaa only very slightly. We’ve talked a few times, and I wound up standing near him at every demonstration every time I was in Egypt, perhaps because he was always the person there who most conveyed that he absolutely knew what he was doing. It would be hard to say how he conveyed it. He had the stereotyped revolutionary’s jungle of hair, but the rest of him seemed pudgily huggable and absent-minded, as if the Pillsbury Doughboy had been miscast as Trotsky. As usual, appearances deceived. Everybody, from other activists to the jailors of State Security, respected him for his courage. He was also a coalition-builder between diverse interests, and one of the few unquestioned intellectual leaders the revolution produced — someone who helped shape and articulate the image of a new society, giving substance to the dream of change. He spent time as a political prisoner under Mubarak as well; he comes from a revolutionary family, and both his parents and his sister Mona are leftist activists with international reputations.  The whole clan has been something more than a thorn in the side of authoritarian oppression — they’ve been the alligator in its bathtub, the tiger in its back yard. I had the privilege to work in the past with his father, Ahmed Seif el-Islam, a human rights lawyer whose complete and inexhaustible dedication makes him one of my heroes.

Lina Attalah wrote a moving essay about Alaa yesterday:

“The marginalized are always the core,” he said. From Christians, to tuk tuk drivers, to gay people, Alaa glorified how they challenge the status quo by denying its existence. “Now if you count the marginalized in all their forms, we are the majority, because it includes women, the poor, those who live in slums, in rural areas … That makes the mainstream a minority.” …

He sees the alliance in post-Mubarak Tahrir, where the mainstream men and women – both Christians and Muslims – of the “gentrified square” retreated, ceding the place to street sellers, gangs and what-not. Along with the remaining activists of the square, this alliance stayed on, claiming post-uprising demands at a time when many others went back home seeking “stability.” Those who slammed Alaa and his fellow activists for continuing the revolution after February were jealous, he says, because the fluidity of its identity allowed for cross-class solidarity. This keeps the revolution alive.

When Alaa recalls criticism from counter-revolutionaries, the key words are “long hair, defends thugs and gangs, gay.” He is jubilant to know that the markers of marginalization have come to define the defamation campaign against him. If this does anything, it proves him right.

It’s proper, then, that Alaa should be a symbol.  Here is a petition calling for his freedom, for full investigation of the Maspero murders, and for an end to military trials. It’s also important not to forget the other victims he symbolizes: the many dead, the 28 or more other civilians the military has detained as scapegoats for the Maspero violence (it has held no one culpable on its own side), the fully 12,000 Egyptians hauled before military tribunals since the revolution.

Maikel Nabil Sanad, whom I’ve written about here, also remains imprisoned. He was ordered retried before another military court, but has refused to appear, rejecting its legitimacy. His family demanded he receive medical care, for the hunger strike he’s been on for more than 70 days; instead, the junta has apparently moved him to a mental hospital. You can find information here on how to write to the military regime about his case. And his friends have launched a blog (in Arabic, with parts in English) publishing some of his writings in prison.