59 Days

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Tahrir Square is empty.

Not a soul passes over its grassy greens or its littered pavements. Lampposts stand solemnly, their bulbs flickering and adorned with mosquitoes and flies. A lady’s torn hijab flies through the emptiness, only to get caught on a chipped green railing and slightly stained by the blood of a martyr. The orange sun sets in the distant horizon behind an abandoned construction site. An Egyptian flag lays still and watches over the remnants of once a great movement, once a great people.

They came at the break of the afternoon prayer. Tanks rolled in, men jumped from bushes and doorways. They infiltrated Tahrir and rid it of life in only few minutes. Men and women screamed, grabbed their belongings and ran. Children stopped their games and searched the thousands of faces for their lost parents. Fruit fell from carts; a watermelon burst and its sweet juice flew over the terrified crowd. People watched from their balconies anxiously, waiting for some sign of hope.

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This is quite a story. I can’t tell you if this is the right story, but what I can tell you is that Tahrir Square is quite empty. This is what it looked like a few weeks ago:

The Empty Tahrir Square

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What happened in Tahrir Square that caused this? Is the story recounted above the right version of the events that took place in the square? Well, I know what happened. And if you’re interested in finding out for real, you might be able to find it online. But before you look it up for yourself, take a look at the following account. You’ll find it appealing…. but which one spills the beans?

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Tahrir Square is empty.

Five minutes ago, voices were flaring in solidarity. Electricity was in the air as portents of change bled from the motivation of the protesters. Muslims bonded with Christians, poor bonded with rich. Merchants passed food through the ranks of Tahrir Square, each man and woman feeling the sweet taste of the Egyptian pastry.

It happened quite suddenly. The glaring sun turned its bright red orange as it did each evening. Everyone stared at the sky- was it falling? People stopped talking, people stopped moving. Their signs dropped to the floor. This is Egypt, they all thought. They were unified under a common thrust. They achieved so much already. The sun stared them down day after day, and witnessed their toils as people of the revolution. Was their mission accomplished?

The people were tired and hungry, but they were happy. Hearing the athan high above their heads, they resolved out of the square. Lovers walked hand-in-hand, satisfied with their goal and their achievement. As they marched, an Egyptian flag whipped with content in the draft of the Nile. Red, White, and Black raged over the square. Powerfully, yet silently… Tahrir was empty.

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Both of these are unlikely stories. To you, my reader, there must be a story that you like better. That you believe is better or more likely. I’ll leave the real version with you. Decide for yourself.

59 days ago, I landed in a new Egypt. It had experienced a revolution 5 months earlier, and had since undergone stress on political and social fronts. Many of the things that happened here will forever remain unknown to me, but I’m happy to have learned much while I was here.

People are conflicted, and human nature tells us that we’re naturally conflicted. This makes it impossible for me to tell you what will happen in this country in the coming days. As my anecdote above has hopefully gotten you thinking right now, the future of Egypt is as much a fantasy as it is a reality. What is for certain is that no matter what does happen, Egyptians will always remain proud Egyptians whatever they may face in the wake of challenges… for during my experience I have garnered the greatest respect for the Egyptians of today. From the waiter asking for a reservation in an empty restaurant, to the breadwinning landguard planting cilantro in his lot of rubble, people here love their country. This, in my opinion, is what shifts the ground anywhere in the world.

I’d like to thank all my readers for keeping up with my blog this summer. It’s been a transformative experience, and doing this site kept me interested and on my feet about the events unfolding in Egypt. I hope that in reading my articles, you’ve gained a better perspective on the issues keeping the land still in this part of the world. If you have thoughts, I urge you to express them in any form: the voices of dissent, whether they come from the youth of tomorrow or the veterans of yesterday, are essential in keeping the public involved at home or in a distant country.

Khan el-Khalili and the Morbid Economy of Revolutionary Egypt

Last night, I visited Cairo’s most popular souk, Khan el-Khalili. I had been to Khan many times before. A sea of twisting alleyways houses the acropolis of Egyptian traditional crafts, souvenirs, and relics of Egyptian culture. Bustling cafés in back alleys quarter tourists and local Egyptians alike sipping mint tea and smoking hookah pipes. Wild cats traverse Khan’s lanes searching for garbage and scraps of food. Immense amounts of people walk through its narrow passages. Shop-owners peer from their windows and chairs seeking potential customers. Young shabab (teenagers) pounce on the curious eyes of passersby, hoping for some business to be done as they welcome you in three, four, or maybe even five languages.

Khan el-Khalili

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Yes, the scene of Khan el-Khalili was undoubtedly a very familiar one. But it so happens that to me, the Khan I went to yesterday was unlike one I had ever visited before. In fact, the Khan I went to was almost unrecognizable.

Minor details caught my eye as soon as we arrived. The government had done some restoration work on some of Khan’s historic buildings and surrounding sites. Geographically, the bazaar is situated in the historic Islamic Cairo, and the municipal authority did well at uncovering features of the area’s buildings that I hadn’t previously witnessed.

It was once we had fully entered the market that it hit me. There was not a single foreigner in sight. Locals dominated the streets and shops, and maneuvered through the alleyways quickly and knowingly. A lack of bewildered faces amongst the crowd was a very unlikely sight, and this certainly caught me off guard. This deficit of tourists brought much attention to my father and I. Although we’re Arabs, our skin is much lighter (generally speaking) than that of Egyptians. Nationals of the Levant countries (including Lebanese and Palestinians, people of my background) normally fancy a shade that isn’t quite European or Western, but certainly gets targeted as Non-Egyptian.

For this reason, all eyes came on us once we entered. Shop-owners rushed to call us into their stores. Pickpocketers leaped from the gutters and swiftly followed us through the streets (I’m paranoid about that kind of thing, so I stared people down as much as possible to avoid confrontation).

This unfamiliar scene was a testament to the fact that Egypt’s tourism industry has taken a pitfall since the revolution. Logically, people haven’t been keen on visiting after a change in regime and the institution of a military junta, let alone hearing of rumors about instability, violence, or something of the like. Tourism comprises a huge part of Egypt’s GDP (around 11% to be precise), and to date, it has practically disintegrated across the country. It was for this reason that people in the market were so elated that some foreigners had arrived, and excited that they might finally make some business. While sitting in a café, a man selling silver jewelry (probably fake for that matter) was so aggressive with us that he thrust a necklace in my hand even though I was adamant about not wanting to look at anything. People in this sector have been seriously damaged by the revolution, and even though they may have gained the ‘freedom’ they were longing for, they took a regrettably catastrophic hit on their financial situation and ability to survive on a basic level.

Where I’m going with this is actually slightly bigger. The reality is that the economy as a whole has suffered since the January revolution. I’ve been working at an investment bank for the past two months and the effects of the revolution really set in at the office. Work is very slow: companies are unwilling to buy other companies or sell due to the economic instability. Firms are reluctant to go public, due to the political instability and high volatility of the Egyptian stock market. For these reasons, many firms are actually delaying transactions until the fall, such that elections will have passed and a steady political authority will have established itself and committed some resources to Egypt’s fragile economy.

Foreign investment is also falling in volume. Trust issues are developing between investors outside Egypt and local manufacturers and suppliers. The disruption caused by the curfews and uprisings in the working class has inevitably resulted in slower business operations which is incurring higher costs locally as well as abroad. The depreciation of the Egyptian Pound has also certainly thinned the volume of foreign receipts in Egypt and decreased overall levels of investment.

Sadly, everything is frozen. Every day the Cairo Stock Exchange index goes flat or downwards. And unfortunately, what will happen in Egypt will almost entirely depend upon the upcoming election in the fall. Most parties haven’t exactly sorted out their policies on the economy, but the situation is going to be an issue that will ultimately determine the ruling party and the future of the country. Whether we turn Marxist or Islamic Fundamentalist… the economy needs a recovery and a dedication from a ruling authority that will restore the comfort and confidence of foreign actors, which will inevitably turn the nation on the right track. And hopefully, tourists will flock back to Egypt, as they always have, to get a true taste of Khan’s hidden treasures.

A Man of the People

This afternoon, I finished a book by Chinua Achebe entitled A Man of the People. In its entirety, the book is a scathing account of extreme political fraudulence in an unnamed African country. The hypocrisy of the ruling individuals, the inability of the common people to penetrate political barriers, and the portrayal of dirty politics at its nastiest form the pillars of Achebe’s work. The author, a native Nigerian, presents an account of “corruption and expectations, deceit and hope”.

Specifically, A Man of the People discusses the story of Honourable Minister Chief Doctor M.A. Nanga, a wealthy minister who gains his power with money and political connections. As is the case with many African countries, the one presented in A Man of the People is in transition from the colonial occupation of the British Empire. The government was formed through a coup and those in power are underdog-style Nationalists with extreme hate for “the white men”, as they’re referred to. These people are often uneducated or come from military backgrounds, and coincidentally the fictional Nanga is illiterate.

What Achebe reveals in his book, however, is that although these corrupted officials are supposed heroes of the newly independent state, they are under a cruel guise and actually act in the interest of “the white men”. Nanga in particular is described as preferring to eat foreign foods, work with Europeans as opposed to Africans, and be referred to by his Christian name, Micah, in the presence of Americans or Englishmen. What Achebe suggests in this manner is an inherent incompatibility and hypocrisy, and the inevitability of harsh consequences on an individual as well as country-wide level.

The connection between Egypt’s pre-revolution political situation and the country described in A Man of the People was palpable throughout the novel. Although there appeared many differences (such as the background and education of political figures), it is undeniable that Mubarak kept close ties with foreign actors throughout his tenure as President of Egypt. This in particular didn’t conflict directly with Mubarak’s commitments to the Egyptian masses, but the corruption and unscrupulous political practices were present within the regime regardless.

The protagonist of A Man of the People, I should mention, is a schoolteacher named Odili Samalu, a former pupil of Nanga. After being reacquainted with Nanga after many years, Odili begins to realize that Nanga’s honour and morality isn’t as righteous as is suggested by his political popularity. Subsequently, Odili decides to run for parliament himself in order to take over Nanga’s seat and set in motion the foundations for a more just political system. His ambition suddenly turns sour when his campaign is ruined by bribery, murder, defamation, and dishonesty. In said country, this is what happens to individuals who attempt to amend the status quo… and from a contemporary perspective, this is similarly what happened to individuals who ran for office in Egypt during the Mubarak regime. Many people wishing to take a role in the government faced a decision: either to bribe their way to the top, or face intimidation and possibly more severe consequences as a result of their enterprise. In fact, this predicament sounds vaguely familiar to the dilemma of Hagg Azzam, a character from Alaa Al-Aswany’s The Yacoubian Building (refer to my previous blog post). This specific aspect of political corruption is perhaps the strongest connection I drew between A Man of the People and the Egypt of Hosni Mubarak.

Now where my analysis gets interesting is where Achebe draws the line for the future of his fabled African nation. Sorry, but I’m about to ruin the book’s ending. In the last 8 pages of the novel, Achebe describes the bitter end of the regime. Bitterness about the fraudulent elections fuels petty crime and widespread fighting between government and break-off factions. Coming back to Egypt, it’s somewhat similar. All of a sudden, the military takes an active role with the dissenters and takes over the government. Although this didn’t happen in Egypt, the army still ended up forming the ruling authority after the resignation of Mubarak. Lastly… the army abolishes all political parties in the country and announces they would be abolished “until the situation becomes stabilized once again”. In addition, they even announce the impending trial of all public servants who had enriched themselves by defrauding the state. This outcome, although written and published in 1967, is as if it were a prescient account of Egypt’s 2011 revolution.

How does the country proceed? What does the future hold? These questions are among the many being asked on the streets of Cairo today. Achebe’s take in A Man of the People is slightly downcast, especially relating to the interests of the people. As many know, Egypt’s revolution was undoubtedly a popular one. Achebe’s revolution is described conversely: “Some political commentators have said that it was the supreme cynicism of these transactions that inflamed the people and brought down the Government. That is sheer poppycock. The people themselves, as we have seen, had become even more cynical than their leaders and were apathetic into the bargain… No, the people had nothing to do with the fall of our Government. What happened was simply that unruly mobs and private armies having tasted blood and power during the election had got out of hand and ruined their masters and employers. And they had no public reason whatever for doing it. Let’s make no mistake about that.”

Is this really feasible when examining the case of Egypt? Were the people really passive and blindly supportive of a government that took so much away from them? Was the military takeover just a shuffle rather than a change? This, in my opinion, is where Achebe splits from Egypt’s January revolution. The overwhelming lack of education in Achebe’s country makes it extremely easy to sway the public opinion: he goes to mention that the transition from adoration to hatred for the government occurred “overnight”. I guess, according to A Man of the People, this is really where the politics of Africa’s impoverished nations comes into play. The feeble frame of the public is essentially what fuels the well-being of their corrupted leaders. What Egypt has demonstrated is a defiance for this catastrophic trend… a people (and an educated people at that) unite for a common cause and act in the best interest of the country. In light of A Man of the People, let’s hope what we currently have in Egypt remains a revolution of the people.

“Falling to Rise”: A Revolution Era Poem by Tasneem Mahmoud

The world has seen the Egyptian revolution through the frames of pictures, videos, and words, but little has it appreciated the power of art as conduit of political and social expression. Below is a poem entitled “Falling to Rise” by a talented writer and friend of mine, Tasneem Mahmoud. It’s just as eloquent as it is literary, and is truly a testament to the essential role of poetry in emphasizing the impact of this consequential revolution. I hope you enjoy it.

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Falling to Rise

Tasneem Mahmoud

 

Rage.

An eruption of resistance.

Like the ocean suddenly pushing against the tide.

They know they are worth more than this.

No suppression,

No silence,

No more.

 

30 years of deprivation,

3 weeks of outcry,

A stampede of victims demanding

Corruption to explain itself,

As it sits in the velvet armchair frantically pondering

On how to exchange the present for a gift.

They call for equality,

They call for an end.

 

The sky is set aflame by the setting sun,

And the evening breeze brings no rest.

Tahrir Square continues to cry, continues to push,

Continues to strive for the surface, to drown the past.

 

The crescent and cross unite,

Farmers and teachers pray together,

The chanting falls back into rhythm as students and taxi drivers shriek.

The wise white moon watches.

 

Posters ripped,

Faces bruised,

The red white black fabric is proudly passed around the crowd,

A few miles away the man with money is crouched besides his chair meditating,

The builder drags his wife and son to join the ripples of hope,

The Bedouin child pears from her hut trembling,

Trying to understand what ails her people.

 

Oh democracy, oh dear,

You shine on us so bright that you blind us,

We cannot see you; we can only reach for your gleam.

A utopia we will gush towards after we have sunk these underlying currents,

That rock us brutally,

That smother our voices,

That temper with our hearts.

 

The chanting continues as dawn awakens the few that slept in their own tears.

The Imam calls for prayer from the highest room of the tower,

His voice resonates the city, soothing its wound,

A symbol of hope,

He knows the Almighty will deliver

Graciously, mercifully, by his own will.

 

 

The Imam pears over the mess, the reckless hate,

The crashing water on the crumbling rock,

A land that was once ruled by kings,

Whose remnants rest peacefully in what was once a handsome kingdom

A nation that once built structures that are too incredible for the modern to attain.

 

Who dares challenge our supreme power?

Our dignity, our glory?

The sphinx sits as it is, glaring out at the solemn city,

The sand blusters over the barren land,

Caressing the battered feet as they march through the growing light

As they stride through the new day,

They won’t stop until they reach the shore,

The calm sweet close to this rampant sea of chaos

“Horrayah!”

Dear Democracy.

The Yacoubian Building

In downtown Cairo, nestled between the crowded streets of Tahrir Square and the city’s shopping capital, lies the Yacoubian Building. Once upon a time, the building housed Egypt’s elite in spacious apartments with 10 meter-long balconies and a distinct art deco style. Through the Nasser and Sadat periods, the building faced a historical migration of the poor and rich, foreign and local… and naturally, withheld many secrets through the building’s former and current residents.

No one exposed these secrets as did Alaa Al Aswany in his award-winning novel, The Yacoubian Building. Often considered an essential read for Egyptian cultural enthusiasts, the novel touches on Egypt’s social, cultural, economic, and political situation during the Mubarak era. Calling the novel critical of Mubarak’s regime would be an understatement: Every character in the novel is touched by some form of injustice, and Al Aswany portrays these issues beautifully through the characters’ intrinsic connection as residents of the Yacoubian Building. Interestingly, although the novel was published in 2002, it expresses some of the very critical issues that led to the revolution of 2011.

Most significantly, Al Aswany uncovered the extreme political corruption of the regime. For example, a character named El Foulli is defined as the man to whom people running for office go to in order to bribe their way to victory. From every detail described by Al Aswany, the discerning reader could be easily confused into believing that this man was actually a real person (and in reality, I personally think there was an El Foulli around during those times). In order to secure their ‘elections’ victories, people would pay large sums of money to El Foulli (in the novel, 1 million pounds to be precise), and in addition, in order to maintain their tenures (they could be ejected at any time, of course), the government would demand substantial percentages of these people’s business profits and incomes. Practically, the government was using elections as a money-making scheme. When we think back to the revolution, frustration mounted partly because elections processes were rigged even on the presidential level – Mubarak was ‘re-elected’ in 2005 and 2009, which according to the people was impossible because the majority of Egyptians had by then developed strong dislike for the regime.

The novel doesn’t shy from the social stigmas of Egyptian life either. The widening gap between the rich and the poor, the shunning of homosexuals, and the status of women are among these issues. For example, a girl in the novel named Busayna Al-Sayed is sent to work for a man who is known to harass his female employees sexually. Mr. Talal, the owner of the shop at which she works, would take her to the basement, have his pleasure, and reward her with ten Egyptian Pounds (2 dollars at the time). The job paid the bills, and although she was educated, she sacrificed her dignity (with pressure from her mother I might add) for the sake of her livelihood. Another character, Taha El-Shazli, is rejected from the Police Academy because his father is a doorman. He studied extensively for the interview, aced all the questions asked of him, but was immediately dismissed upon revealing his father’s line of work. Whereas the West was picking up the slack on these issues, Egypt remained archaic in both mentality and overarching social structure… which inevitably placed pressure on an exploding youth population wanting change for their country.

Lastly, I want to describe Al Aswany’s intense criticism of Egypt’s religious scene. Specifically, he touches on a certain corruption in the religious hierarchy that seems unlikely but is widespread and truly unfortunate. For example, one religious character in the book named Hagg Azzam bribes a sheikh to declare his actions religiously acceptable, even though by all standards they are completely illegal. Morally speaking, how could a man pay for religious acceptance? Was his desire for approval so desperate that he needed to infiltrate the system?

By now, you’re certainly wondering: with Egypt’s extreme corruption and political oppression, how is it even possible that this book was published and sold on the shelves of Egyptian bookstores? Not only does it directly blame the government for many of Egypt’s problems, but it also features topics that are extremely sensitive to Egyptians, such as the religious corruption. Sadly, the answer isn’t that simple. In the last few years of Mubarak’s regime, he eased up the channels a bit for freedom of expression, which lead to an outburst of literature and poetry criticizing the state of Egypt from a bohemian perspective. Alaa El Aswany’s work was most certainly the most acclaimed both inside and outside Egypt: Over the past few years, he’s even involved himself in Egypt’s political scene as a major benefactor of the Kefaya movement, a coalition of different individuals and groups formed to oppose the National Democratic Party on all fronts. After the revolution, he was seen on television in a very memorable debate with the first prime minister of the interim government, Ahmed Shafik. In essence, Al Aswany humiliated and shamed him in an unbelievable way and in fact, the next day, Shafik resigned from office.

I finished the book a few days ago, and I encourage all of you to read it. Curious as I was, I decided the visit the Yacoubian Building for myself after work today. It took an hour to go 2 blocks south-east of Tahrir Square in traffic, but once I got there, I was actually surprised. The building looked very… ordinary. It was belittled by a handsomer building next door, relatively scruffy and dirty from the outside, and practically defaced by all the signs for the shops on the street level.From its current state, it’s not apparent that this building is a relic of modern Egyptian society. From the day it was built to the 25th of January, it witnessed the glorious yet catastrophic regimes of the Arab Republic’s 4 presidents… and from its history and every ounce of controversy sure to have passed through its corridors, I never would have imagined such a current state. I guess, sadly for me, the secrets of the building will remain locked inside… and by a quick Google search, I’ve discovered that the building now houses a youth hostel, which I’m sure carries a few secrets of its own.

Egypt’s Monkey Trial

When I think back to history’s most notable criminal trials, the 1925 battle between John Thomas Scopes and the state of Tennessee, nicknamed “The Monkey Trial”, always comes to mind. This case marked the United States’ first legal clash between the pillars of science and religion: a high school biology teacher was tried for unlawfully instructing evolution in an academic setting. The case brought much media attention from around the country and, most significantly, posed a bigger-picture conflict that to this day hasn’t found resolution.

Yesterday, the trial of politicians from the Mubarak government began at Cairo’s Police Academy in the outskirts of the city. To be tried: Hosni Mubarak, his sons Gamal and Alaa, the Minister of Interior Habib El-Adly, and 6 of his subordinates. Every Egyptian tuned in by radio and television to watch the first day of the proceedings.

I left for work at 9:30 A.M. and the streets were completely empty. The bridge connecting the East side of the Nile and the island of Zamalek, where I work, was devoid of vehicles and passersby, which was a very unfamiliar sight. Shortly before arriving at the office, I saw a small group of beggars and street vendors crowded around what looked like a minuscule television, attempting to get a clear picture of what was going on in the neighborhood of Heliopolis. When I arrived at the office, everyone had already occupied the only three rooms on the top floor with televisions: we watched the proceedings attentively until the trial’s conclusion at 1:00 P.M. Overall, it is irrefutable that Day 1 satisfied many Egyptians. The most memorable part was certainly when the court officer listed the charges against Mubarak and his sons, and asked the three individuals how they plead. A co-worker sitting next to me at that point remarked, “Remember this historical moment… when every Egyptian saw Mubarak and his sons behind a cage denying all charges.”

Like the Monkey Trial, this court case had its fair share of controversy. Let me begin by saying that the very structure and organization of the trial was utterly anarchic (by Western standards, I suppose). In the courtroom, a small barrier railing separated the judges from the audience. About 50 some odd lawyers were crammed along the railing, standing on top of one other, clearly uncomfortable and many with devastated looks on their faces. Each person on trial had maybe 2 or 3 lawyers fighting on his behalf, and many of the revolution’s victims’ families hired lawyers to represent the interests of the revolutionaries. Yesterday’s exercise primarily surrounded the introduction of the the trial, the presentation of all charges against said individuals, and the entertainment of requests from the lawyers relating to the logistics of the tribunal. Throughout the trial, whenever one lawyer would try to get his word out, another would talk over him and all of a sudden the room would erupt in argument from the gallery. This resulted in the judge having absolutely no control over the proceedings- there was a remarkably low level of decorum, especially for such a high profile trial.

On another level, many of the event’s content-driven elements added to an absurd nature that closely related to that of the Monkey Trial. At one point, the judge recognized a lawyer dressed in a green suit fashioning a long beard. Fighting to get through the horde of lawyers to the microphone, the man jumped into a passionate, semi-articulate fit of rage. He exclaimed that the Mubarak present at the trial was not actually the president but some decoy implemented by US and Israeli intelligence, and the real Mubarak died in 2004. He demanded that the Military Council conduct a DNA test to verify the identity of Mubarak. He caused a stir in the room and kept yelling until the judge silenced him. It caused quite a reception and all eyes turned turned towards the pen where the criminals were being held.

Against the wall in the courtroom was a cage, where sat the convicts. It was separated into two chambers, one housing El-Adly and his accomplices, and the other Mubarak and his sons. All of them were colour-coded: white jumpsuit meant that the case was still completely under investigation, blue jumpsuit meant that on at least one charge, a verdict had been reached, and a black jumpsuit meant that the person was just a suspect and wasn’t being held in custody outside the courtroom. Mubarak, strangely, was present in a hospital gurney kept at the back corner of the cage. He was physically shielded by his sons who remained close to him throughout the proceedings. The cameras could barely catch a glimpse of him: Although this strangely supports the lawyer’s theory that he wasn’t actually Mubarak, this gesture was probably enacted in order to prevent any further humiliation from the media and the Egyptian people.

This finally leads me to the certain qualities of the trial that really complete that connection with Scope’s court case. In much the same way, there is a conflict of ideology here just as much as there is a conflict of justice and fairness. Many of Mubarak’s crimes will never be brought to rest, either because concretely, they weren’t legally actionable or all records of the crime were destroyed. However, seeing such a major leader in this situation has a huge symbolic importance for Egyptians. Although there are still pro-Mubarak actors out there, more substantial issues are coming into play: modern vs. traditional, liberal vs. conservative, and of course religious vs. secular.

Honestly, watching the case brought me as much discomfort as it did recollections from my readings of the Monkey Trial. Maybe it was because there was a primitive atmosphere to the whole event, given the fact that all the convicts were kept in a large cage like undignified human beings. It could have been because Scopes was tried in 1925 and now it’s 2011. Maybe it was because Habib El-Adly resembles an orangutan. What’s for certain, though, is that this trial is one that will change the course of Egypt’s history. As it turns out, monkeys behind a cage can cause much bigger disorder than would normally be found in the dense animal kingdom.

Under the 6th of October Bridge