Does Egypt's Real Revolution Start Now? [true religion jeans]
Col. Eyad Emam was an exemplary Egyptian military officer. The 40-year-old father of three had served in air defense for most of his career. He was an instructor at the military institute and wrote two manuals used in military schools. In April of this year he was scheduled to travel to the United States for special training.
So his older brother, Ayman, was surprised when he got a phone call on April 15 from a number he didn't recognize, and it turned out to be the colonel. Eyad said he was talking on a new mobile because he suspected that his old one was being tapped.
"What did you do wrong?" asked Ayman.
"Nothing," said the colonel.
"Is it related to the revolution?"
"Sort of, yes."
The following day, Eyad Emam was arrested while on duty, and the next time his brother saw him was weeks later in a military court. With Eyad were five of the 22 other commissioned officers who had been jailed with him. Some had been arrested protesting in Tahrir Square in a raid by security forces during the early hours of April 9. Others, like Emam, were seen as connected to the protesters in some way, including over Facebook. In court, the colonel tried to hide his handcuffs from his brother. He had lost weight, he was unshaven, and there were tears in his eyes. He didn't really want to talk. "I am not a traitor," he said. "None of us is a traitor."
That conversation, part of a personal tragedy for the officer and his family, is also key to the national tragedy of Egypt right now. On the eve of parliamentary elections arranged by the military high command, the country has exploded. In massive, often violent protests, tens of thousands of civilians are challenging the generals' idea of democracy—which holds that the military's authority is unquestioned and its finances and inner workings are untouchable—as simply not good enough.
Out on the streets amid the tear gas, the truncheons, the Molotov cocktails, and the flying rocks, protesters have tried to restart the revolution they thought had been won nine months ago. Last week 42 people were killed in the riots, hundreds were injured, and tens of thousands once again marched into Tahrir Square as they did when they demanded, and got, the resignation of President Hosni Mubarak last February.
Now the crowds call for the removal of the octogenarian Field Marshal Mohamed Hussein Tantawi and the other top officers in the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces—Mubarak appointees who facilitated the president's removal and who have ruled the country since. But the generals, apart from making some largely symbolic concessions, remained unmoved. "We will not relinquish power because a slogan-chanting crowd said so," Maj. Gen. Mukhtar el-Malla declared at a televised news conference last week.
So his older brother, Ayman, was surprised when he got a phone call on April 15 from a number he didn't recognize, and it turned out to be the colonel. Eyad said he was talking on a new mobile because he suspected that his old one was being tapped.
"What did you do wrong?" asked Ayman.
"Nothing," said the colonel.
"Is it related to the revolution?"
"Sort of, yes."
The following day, Eyad Emam was arrested while on duty, and the next time his brother saw him was weeks later in a military court. With Eyad were five of the 22 other commissioned officers who had been jailed with him. Some had been arrested protesting in Tahrir Square in a raid by security forces during the early hours of April 9. Others, like Emam, were seen as connected to the protesters in some way, including over Facebook. In court, the colonel tried to hide his handcuffs from his brother. He had lost weight, he was unshaven, and there were tears in his eyes. He didn't really want to talk. "I am not a traitor," he said. "None of us is a traitor."
That conversation, part of a personal tragedy for the officer and his family, is also key to the national tragedy of Egypt right now. On the eve of parliamentary elections arranged by the military high command, the country has exploded. In massive, often violent protests, tens of thousands of civilians are challenging the generals' idea of democracy—which holds that the military's authority is unquestioned and its finances and inner workings are untouchable—as simply not good enough.
Out on the streets amid the tear gas, the truncheons, the Molotov cocktails, and the flying rocks, protesters have tried to restart the revolution they thought had been won nine months ago. Last week 42 people were killed in the riots, hundreds were injured, and tens of thousands once again marched into Tahrir Square as they did when they demanded, and got, the resignation of President Hosni Mubarak last February.
Now the crowds call for the removal of the octogenarian Field Marshal Mohamed Hussein Tantawi and the other top officers in the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces—Mubarak appointees who facilitated the president's removal and who have ruled the country since. But the generals, apart from making some largely symbolic concessions, remained unmoved. "We will not relinquish power because a slogan-chanting crowd said so," Maj. Gen. Mukhtar el-Malla declared at a televised news conference last week.
2011-11-28 11:52
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