When Facebook opened its membership to those outside the confines of universities in late 2006, I gradually received more and more “add requests” from relatives and friends in Egypt. My newsfeed became an anecdotal barometer of (urban) Egyptian public opinion. At first, it showed the occasional comedy clip or results of a quiz. Then slowly the newsfeed of Egyptians took on an anti-authority dimension, as a carousel of anti-Mubarak parodies, jokes, articles, and defiance filled up the screen.
Egypt’s first political Facebook group came in the form of the April 6 Youth Movement. It was intended to support a workers strike at the industrial town of El-Mahalla El-Kubra on 6 April 2008, in which the authorities had threatened to charge the plant’s workers. The activists used blogs, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and Flickr to coordinate and inform of their activities. I had arrived in Egypt on 11 April, and the country was abuzz about what had happened five days earlier. In hindsight, this event, and ensuing follow-ups of protests and police responses, would be an unintended dress rehearsal for the recent crisis.
Fast-forward to 2011, a coalition emerged between Kefeya, April 6 Youth Movement, We Are All Khalid Said Movement, and the National Association for Change. With Saeed’s ghost looming large and a nation reeling from the shock horror of the Alexandria church bombing, 25 January was chosen as the Day of Anger, which is also the National Police Day, a public holiday that celebrates Egypt’s police. The irony was not lost on anyone. The protesters were about to send a strong message to the regime’s police state. The Facebook page was established, and the numbers joining up skyrocketed. The cities of Cairo, Alexandria, Ismailia and Suez were to be coordinated via Facebook, Twitter, text messaging, and the timeless word of mouth.
Advertisement
Egyptians were further emboldened when lightweight Tunisia, a county that journalist Paul McGeough described as “the mouse that roared”, broke the psychological barrier that an Arab leader can never be removed from office unless they die; but now they can be sent on a one way ticket to Saudi Arabia. The joke in Egypt was that exiled Tunisian president Zine El Abidine Ben Ali should make a stopover in Cairo and pick up Mubarak on his way.
While denial might not be a river in Egypt, it is so for the regime. Mubarak’s misreading of the public anger in light of the protests and the follow-up cosmetic changes baffled observers. When the regime encountered imaginative bankruptcy, they shut down much of the internet on 27 January, an unprecedented move in the technology’s history. This act may have backfired; Egyptians who could not access the net, had one major less reason to stay home and the incentive to go out and protest was greater. For the activists, they resorted to old school methods such as faxes and dialup. The horse had already bolted.
The Egyptian revolution was taking place in the social media age which threw open the gates to influences of various kinds. Twitter blocked? No problems, Google unveils a twitter feed by phone service. For supporters of the anti-Mubarak protesters living abroad, Facebook and Twitter had became a command and control centre. Information gleaned from Al Jazeera, Facebook, Twitter, was relayed to protesters on the ground via phone and text messaging. This included where medical supplies were needed in Tahrir Sqaure (it’s a very big square!), ways of accessing free international dialup connections, and just the international engagement played a part in keeping up the protesters momentum. Egypt’s State TV struggled to maintain the regime’s line against the “menacing” YouTube and blanket Al Jazeera coverage. Tunisia had happened too quickly for global citizens to participate, but Egypt gave the world time and opportunity to experiment in a global civic engagement to support the Egyptian people.
Egypt has not been exposed to the current intense and prolonged global media coverage since the 1973 Arab-Israeli war. Following the 1978 Camp David Accords and the 1981 Anwar Sadat assassination, Egypt dropped significantly off the world radar. Its headlines for the next three decades were as “inspirational” as Mubarak’s charisma. That included terrorist attacks, sectarian tensions, earthquakes, rigged elections, but on the positive, the world could be assured that a “new” mummy would be discovered every six months. Such events rarely spanned more than two days coverage. Under Mubarak it has been stable, at least by Middle Eastern standards, but repressive nonetheless, the president’s mediocrity and lack of vision brought upon the nation a cultural paralysis. Books and documentaries on modern Egypt dwindled, while Ancient Egypt always remained the mainstay.
Revolutions capture the human imagination and intoxicates the viewer, seeing millions of Egyptians run and protest in Tahrir Square and beyond gave a sense of empowerment to those around the world who, for whatever reason, felt they can make a contribution via their social media space. Egypt’s mystery and place in the popular arts were amplified by the digital world. Amusingly, political cartoonists worldwide had a field day making Mubarak look like the soon to fall pharaoh, tumbling down a pyramid, his cracking face on a sphinx, to walk like an Egyptian; many which made their way to become profile pictures on Facebook. It must have been more fun than drawing the Tunisian president.
The digital revolution altered the rules of engagement in a dramatic way. Whatever Mubarak’s fate may be, there has been a parametric shift in the ways Egyptians express political dissent and mobilise the masses. Social media was not responsible for the uprising, it facilitated it and kept unleashing upon it a new lease of life. Momentum took care of the rest. Tunisia and Egypt have become inadvertent pioneers in how 20th century antiquated autocracies face off 21st century digital revolutionaries. The voice of the Egyptian people through social media has spoken: “Mubarak, let my people go”.