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WITNESS: The Oxford Revolution

by Thomson Reuters Foundation
Friday, 25 March 2011 00:00 GMT

I never imagined that six months at Oxford could be so transformative. A Gerda Henkel fellowship at the Reuters Institute for the Study of Journalism gave me an open space not only to think and write about my research topic—the evolution of press censorship in Egypt—but to have a enriching exchange with other fellows from around the world, and the freedom to consider what mattered to me and where I belonged in the changing field of journalism.

On June 22, I gave a presentation on my research at the Green Templeton College Lecture Theater. I listed 10 lessons I've learned, the last one being: "Freer expression enables action." I was responding to the argument I have heard over and over again in interviews: What use is having more space for expression when nothing changes anyway? It just amounts to the freedom to "bark," "vent," or "scream." Ultimately autocratic systems don't allow for change. 

I believed that eventually it was not going to be enough to permit a wider space for speech but it would inevitably lead to political action. And it was taking form online—Facebook was not only the freest press in Egypt, it was a mobilization tool.

"Take a look at this," I said as I flipped through my last series of slides. I paused as I stared at an image of Khaled Said—an Egyptian youth who was beaten to death by police earlier that month—on a Facebook page created in his memory that had already gained more than 200,000 followers. Khaled Said was not someone I knew but I along with other Egyptians felt a deep emotional belief that such brutality cannot stand unanswered; something needed to be done. Online was where youth in particular were pushing the barriers of speech and action in a tightly controlled police state. That image of a young man senselessly killed would become the icon of a revolution seven months later.

My fellowship at the Reuters Institute offered me that chance to reflect on my career in journalism and convinced me that I could not give in to cynicism. I still had something to contribute, I thought, even as the journalism profession faces an uncertain future.

I returned to Cairo on July 31. Presidential elections were scheduled for September 2011, which I expected to be a crucial period in Egypt's history. It was foreseen that the octogenarian president, who had ruled the country for three decades, would run and win. Press restrictions were tightened ahead of forged parliamentary elections in late 2010, a harbinger of elections to maintain a present-day pharaoh in power.     

It was easy to lose hope that things could be different in Egypt. And there were many moments where I wished I could be anywhere else. Calls for change and reform were kept at bay by the massive apparatuses of the security state, which harassed, detained, and tortured citizens with impunity. Corruption was rife in a governing system that was not beholden to the people but to the self-interest of those in power.

Still, I never thought I would live through a popular revolution. Two factors escalated the uprising: Intense and sustained month-long protests in neighboring Tunisia that forced the ousting of that nation's dictator, Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali, and the organizing power of social media—those "kids on Facebook," as they were dismissively called by the regime.   

The cascade of events in Tunisia proved just how weak entrenched autocrats are when confronted with the masses on the streets. Egypt would follow in a matter of days. The "We are all Khaled Said" Facebook page would raise the call to action, declaring a "Freedom Revolution" on January 25. Hundreds of thousands took to the streets on that day and there was no going back. With critical mass reached, the fear barrier was shattered. Over the next couple of days the regime gave nothing in terms of political concessions, relying on state security's brute force.

On January 28, dubbed the "Friday of Rage," millions of Egyptians took to the streets shouting a slogan that has rung out across the Arab world: "The people want the downfall of the regime!" All Internet and mobile communication were cut by the state in a far-reaching measure to contain the largest mass protests Egypt has ever seen.

Video camera in hand, I joined a protest along Faisal Street in the Cairo district of Haram. Thousands of protestors soon became tens of thousands, stretching more than the eye could see, as the crowd encouraged people watching from balconies and windows to come down from their homes and join in. Two youth volunteered to carry me on their shoulders as I recorded the images. We then ran to the front of the crowd and one of the protesters hoisted me on his shoulders.

"Do you have enough footage," I was asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"Send what you've filmed!" 

I was told to "disappear." I and a few of the protestors helping me escape snuck into an alley, waiting for the huge crowds to pass before heading in the other direction. That was the plan, but it turned out that the protestors thought I was being abducted by the secret police and would not leave the entrance to the alley. I had to assure them that everything was fine and there was no need to worry. As I was leaving with a woman who promised the crowd that she would look after me, two young men ran after us, warning us that three plainclothes security officers were in fact after us. And so we ran.

It was incredible to be living those moments where citizens were taking action and making the ultimate sacrifices for freedom. They were no longer cowered by manufactured fear. It was heartening to witness this amazing sense of empowerment.

I am grateful to my colleagues at the Reuters Institute and the friends I've made at Oxford for their long distance calls and a wonderful network of support. Instead of always being the one to ask the questions, I found myself being interviewed by media outlets in Finland, Brazil, Chile, and the UK. Another unexpected benefit of my fellowship: As Internet communications were blocked for five days and text messaging even longer, I was able to send messages to friends through my UK mobile number, where I had about £10 of credit left.

It sounds cliché to say that two semesters in Oxford changed my life, but they have. I have never realized how much I have internalized fear while working as a journalist and editor in Egypt for 12 years. I did not want to be afraid any more. The true transformation happened when Egyptians were willing to shed their fears, knowing they are not alone.  

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