Memory As Defiance: Arab Spring Reflections From Cairo

Nine years after the Jan. 25 popular revolution that overthrew President Hosni Mubarak, so much of the hopes failed to materialize. But not everything.

A sandstorm in Tahrir Square last year.
A sandstorm in Tahrir Square last year.
H.A. Hellyer


CAIRO — For years now, I've had an edited copy of a famous picture of a solitary German man standing in a crowd of Nazi supporters in 1935 as the background to my Facebook page. Surrounded by scores of presumably loyal backers of the Third Reich, who all appear to be offering the Nazi salute, he refuses to join them in that salute. He has clearly found himself in the crowd somehow — but he opts not to offer a stiff arm alongside them.

Nearly 80 years later, I edited the picture. I put the red, black, and white logo of #Jan25 next to him, with the implication that what that man stood for had resonance for supporters of the January 25 revolutionary uprising as well. Nine years after the ouster of Hosni Mubarak — nine years after the beginning of many dreams — I continue to keep that same picture as a background, and often look at it. It continues to ‘work" in terms of its resonance, at least for myself.

The original picture is of August Landmesser, a German Christian in Nazi Germany who married Irma Eckler (a German Jew) in 1935. It has become etched into European historical memory as an example of someone who insisted on the right to say ‘no" when the populism of the age seemed overwhelmingly in support of saying ‘yes'.

The connection between the two historical moments may seem counterintuitive; after all, Mubarak's resignation was a popular demand, and a morally good one, unlike the popular demand of the German Nazi-supporting crowd.

But the image of that individual protest touches a nerve with those who continue to support the January 25 revolution today.

The analogy obviously isn't with regards to the evils of Nazism. But there are correspondences with the notion of being almost friendless in a group, in the midst of massive populism aimed in another direction, placing great stress on that independent faction.

There's a phrase that I remember a good deal vis-à-vis that revolutionary movement, which became the title of an article published in the maiden days of this very publication, Mada Masr. It's called "Back to the margins," and it was written by Lina Attallah as the June 30 protests drew closer and closer. She encapsulated what many supporters of the revolutionary movement felt, which was that their discourse was being pushed further and further away from public discussion of the time. The two main factions in the run-up to the protests were those who supported the Morsi government and those who supported overthrowing it by any means necessary. Those who failed to fit neatly into either category were, indeed, on "the margins."

As for the "back to" part of the article's title, it was a reminder that for much of the January 25 movement's active lifespan, it was on the margins. Indeed, that same movement may have been named "25th of January" in 2011, but it existed long before then. It never held power, and for much of its history, it was on the periphery and the margins.

The uprising itself succeeded in 2011, while the revolution did not.

It had influence at particular points, yes — especially during the uprising itself in 2011 and thereafter. I wrote about some of those points in my book on the uprising and its aftermath, entitled A Revolution Undone: Egypt's Road Beyond Revolt, and the "undone" hints at that in particular. It didn't mean a revolution had been done, and then became dismantled — rather, that the revolution hadn't been completed. It had been left undone, unfinished, incomplete. That meant work still had to be done — and that remains true today.

Different populist waves continue to cause so much damage in our time — not only in Egypt, but in other countries as well: across Europe, America, Asia — I've lost count. The oppression of Rohingya and the Uyghurs, the rise of Donald Trump, the mainstreaming of the European far right. These are clearly all different, and I don't mean to underestimate any one of them by comparing it to any other. But the underlying commonality is simply this: evil happens when goodness is reduced merely to love for one's country or community, and when principles are sacrificed on the altar of the same. It's a message that Landmesser clearly rejected.

There was a time I wondered if the specificity of the Jan 25 logo was somehow self-defeating. Because, clearly, the uprising itself succeeded in 2011, while the revolution did not. I'm not of those people who insist on pushing the narrative of the revolution as failed, because the reality of history is that revolutions are judged and assessed over much longer periods of time than a few years.

But be that as it may, the logo created a locus of historical centrality to this particular event — the uprising in 2011 — and that makes it time-bound, and thus limited. Good friends have expressed fear that to look back on this time as such is to invite the fate of becoming a relic of the past themselves: has-beens, "we were the future once," and so on.

I see it somewhat differently. Because if the point of remembering is to simply be stuck in stasis, and to fail to do anything beyond basking in memories, then yes: it's self-defeating indeed.

Remembering is an act of defiance.

But I've never seen the revolutionary uprising and its symbol of #jan25 in that fashion. On the contrary: The very act of remembering is an act of defiance against a system, as well as systems that have been put into place to deny that #Jan25 ever existed.

Remembering doesn't need to be an act of defiance for the sake of it, just to be contrarian. Nor to simply publicly declare one's principles in the face of crowd pressure. That is powerful in and of itself — but more powerful still is having that act of remembrance as a starting point for living one's life in ways that reject the normalization of different types of authoritarian notions which have become part of the status quo, irrespective of whether they spring from radical religious ideas or populist autocratic ones.

What links defiant memory to that revolutionary moment nine years ago is perhaps that two-fold emphasis on remembering the past, but peering forward: moving onward with the benefit of lessons learned, while recalling the intentions that drove us to those streets. To forget those intentions is to betray a part of ourselves that remains committed to insisting that justice and mercy be the twin bases of our social relationships.

The symbol carries a twin emotional effect: it will forever strike a chord of angst in the oppressor. To this day, every year that #Jan25 comes along in the calendar, there is grave anxiety among those who insist that brute force and fear are the blocks of some odd grotesque version of "stability" in society. In reality, those blocks are merely increasing its core instability.

Moreover, it strikes a note of hope for the oppressed, especially for those who lived through the uprising, that is at least in part inspired by the people and the stories one encountered back then.

During the Cairo protests of January 2011 — Photo: Ramy Raoof

It is difficult to be friendless in a crowd; it can be difficult to be on the margins. I am reminded of this particular verse: "…فَطُوبَى لِلْغُرَبَاءِ‏‏ ‏"

"‘And give good tidings to the strangers." And when he was asked, ‘who are the strangers', the Prophet is reported as having responded: ‘Those that correct the people when they become corrupt." In another verse, he said, ‘They are a small group of people among a large wrong population. Those who oppose them are more than those who follow them.""

It's sometimes lonely to feel that strange. Many of my generation have been traumatized because of that time and the subsequent feeling of loneliness, and the inability to process it.

But: give good tidings to the strangers. Not because they harken back to a time of glory, but because they hold fast to principles that are hard to uphold. In the end, it's not about success — for that's always out of our hands. It's about the intentions we have, and doing what we can, truly, to bring them to fruition.

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Why This Sudan Coup Is Different

The military has seized control in one of Africa's largest countries, which until recently had made significant progress towards transitioning to democracy after years of strongman rule. But the people, and international community, may not be willing to turn back.

Smoke rises Monday over the Sudanese capital of Khartoum

Xinhua via ZUMA
David E. Kiwuwa

This week the head of Sudan's Sovereign Council, General Abdel Fattah El Burhan, declared the dissolution of the transitional council, which has been in place since the overthrow of former president Omar el-Bashir in 2019. He also disbanded all the structures that had been set up as part of the transitional roadmap, and decreed a state of emergency.

In essence, he staged a palace coup against the transitional authority he chaired.

The general's actions, which included the arrest of Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok, are a culmination of a long period of tension between the civilian and military wings of the council.

A popular uprising may be inevitable

The tensions were punctuated by an alleged attempted coup only weeks earlier. The days leading to the palace coup were marked by street protests for and against the military. Does this mark the end of the transition as envisaged by the protest movement?

Their ability to confront counter revolutionary forces cannot be underestimated.

The popular uprising against Bashir's government was led by the Sudan Professional Association. It ushered in the political transitional union of civilians and the military establishment. The interim arrangement was to lead to a return to civilian rule.

But this cohabitation was tenuous from the start, given the oversized role of the military in the transition. Moreover, the military appeared to be reluctant to see the civilian leadership as an equal partner in shepherding through the transition.

Nevertheless, until recently there had been progress towards creating the institutional architecture for the transition. Despite the challenges and notable tension between the signatories to the accord, it was never evident that the dysfunction was so great as to herald the collapse of the transitional authority.

For now, the transition might be disrupted and in fact temporarily upended. But the lesson from Sudan is never to count the masses out of the equation. Their ability to mobilize and confront counter revolutionary forces cannot be underestimated.

Power sharing

The transitional pact itself had been anchored by eight arduously negotiated protocols. These included regional autonomy, integration of the national army, revenue sharing and repatriation of internal refugees. There was also an agreement to share out positions in national political institutions, such as the legislative and executive branch.

Progress towards these goals was at different stages of implementation. More substantive progress was expected to follow after the end of the transition. This was due in 2022 when the chair of the sovereignty council handed over to a civilian leader. This military intervention is clearly self-serving and an opportunistic power grab.

A promised to civilian rule in July 2023 through national elections.

In November, the rotational chairmanship of the transitional council was to be passed from the military to the civilian wing of the council. That meant the military would cede strong leverage to the civilians. Instead, with the coup afoot, Burhan has announced both a dissolution of the council as well as the dismissal of provincial governors. He has unilaterally promised return to civilian rule in July 2023 through national elections.

Prior to this, the military had been systematically challenging the pre-eminence of the civilian authority. It undermined them and publicly berated them for governmental failures and weaknesses. For the last few months there has been a deliberate attempt to sharply criticize the civilian council as riddled with divisions, incompetent and undermining state stability.

File photo shows Sudan's Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok in August 2020

Mohamed Khidir/Xinhua via ZUMA

Generals in suits

Since the revolution against Bashir's government, the military have fancied themselves as generals in suits. They have continued to wield enough power to almost run a parallel government in tension with the prime minister. This was evident when the military continued to have the say on security and foreign affairs.

For their part, civilian officials concentrated on rejuvenating the economy and mobilizing international support for the transitional council.

This didn't stop the military from accusing the civilian leadership of failing to resuscitate the country's ailing economy. True, the economy has continued to struggle from high inflation, low industrial output and dwindling foreign direct investment. As in all economies, conditions have been exacerbated by the effects of COVID-19.

Sudan's weakened economy is, however, not sufficient reason for the military intervention. Clearly this is merely an excuse.

Demands of the revolution

The success or failure of this coup will rest on a number of factors.

First is the ability of the military to use force. This includes potential violent confrontation with the counter-coup forces. This will dictate the capacity of the military to change the terms of the transition.

Second is whether the military can harness popular public support in the same way that the Guinean or Egyptian militaries did. This appears to be a tall order, given that popular support appears to be far less forthcoming.

The international community's appetite for military coups is wearing thin.

Third, the ability of the Sudanese masses to mobilize against military authorities cannot be overlooked. Massive nationwide street protests and defiance campaigns underpinned by underground organizational capabilities brought down governments in 1964, 1985 and 2019. They could once again present a stern test to the military.

Finally, the international community's appetite for military coups is wearing thin. The ability of the military to overcome pressure from regional and international actors to return to the status quo could be decisive, given the international support needed to prop up the crippled economy.

The Sudanese population may have been growing frustrated with its civilian authority's ability to deliver on the demands of the revolution. But it is also true that another coup to reinstate military rule is not something the protesters believe would address the challenges they were facing.

Sudan has needed and will require compromise and principled political goodwill to realise a difficult transition. This will entail setbacks but undoubtedly military intervention in whatever guise is monumentally counterproductive to the aspirations of the protest movement.


David E. Kiwuwa is Associate Professor of International Studies at University of Nottingham

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

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