August 20, 2013
Days
after Egyptian security forces entered Cairo’s Giza and Nasr City districts to
break up Islamist sit-ins, the country is reeling: tent homes set aflame,
puddles of blood, sidewalks charred by artillery fire, and corpses lined in
makeshift morgues. The Ministry of Health estimates the death toll to be over
600, with nearly 4,000 injured. The vast majority of the casualties were
supporters of ousted President Mohammed Morsi and his Muslim Brotherhood group.
In the midst of this turmoil, many Egyptians have shifted their priority from
building a democracy to another concern: security.
By the
end of one of the bloodiest weeks in Egyptian history, state TV was covering
the aftermath of Wednesday’s events with the headline: “Egypt Fighting
Terrorism.” The group that the military considers a ‘monolithic threat’
encompasses the very political voices that would contribute to a pluralistic
democracy. In a matter of weeks, however, the military has reframed the
challenge facing the country. Initially, the military described those
demonstrating against Morsi’s ouster as a danger to the country’s political
transition. But twenty-one days into the protest, the military began dubbing
the Muslim Brotherhood ‘terrorists,’ a threat to the country’s security, with
rhetoric against the Muslim Brotherhood culminating in the violent crackdown on
August 14.
Simplifying
Egypt into the narrow dualism of ‘us versus them,’ the military has
re-established a dominant role for itself on Egypt’s political stage, one that
has gone largely unchallenged by the Egyptian public.
This
isn’t entirely shocking. At the end of June, millions who poured into the
city’s squares were eager for security forces to help rid Egypt of Morsi’s
increasingly autocratic rule. The military offered assurances that its
intervention was only in the interest of democracy-building: to help a new
transitional government restore and safeguard the democratic institutions for
which the Morsi regime seemed to show little reverence. But millions who voted
for him (and even against him), saw Morsi’s ouster on July 3 as a subversion of
the democratic process. As many have noted, not all Muslim Brotherhood
supporters took to the streets, and not all who protested the army’s
intervention were Muslim Brotherhood members or Morsi supporters.
These
distinctions are ignored by armed forces Commander in Chief General Abdul Fatah
Al-Sisi, whose pictures have been plastered across parts of Cairo over the past
six weeks. After the pro-Morsi demonstrations showed no signs of slowing down,
Al-Sisi called Egyptians to the streets in late July to give the military a mandate
to “confront possible violence and terrorism.” In doing so, Al-Sisi
simultaneously grouped all pro-Morsi/anti-military protesters together, and
demonized them as terrorists. With such heated rhetoric, the possibility of
political inclusion all but collapsed. How could Egypt compromise with
terrorists? By the morning after Al-Sisi’s call, clashes between pro-Morsi
supporters and the police left sixty-five Morsi supporters dead.
The
August 14 crackdown reaffirmed the army’s categorization of the Muslim
Brotherhood and pro-Morsi supporters as terrorists. The military positioned
them as such a grave security danger that the attack was justified as a
pre-emptive measure, which required not just tear gas and birdshot, but also
live ammunition.
The
events also underscored what voices the military would consider legitimate in
the post-Morsi political landscape. In backing the attack, the country’s
political leadership encouraged the political marginalization and forceful
repression of a group of Egyptians, many who were peaceful and seeking
representation of their vote.
Contrast
this with Egypt’s 2011 revolution, when the deaths of over 800 protesters
strengthened the people’s resolve to protest and push for Hosni Mubarak’s
ouster. Two years later, similar numbers of deaths have prompted cheers from
many Egyptians. In the aftermath of the August 14 massacre, Egyptians hung a
picture of Al-Sisi at the front gates of the mosque at the Morsi sit-in. Even
among many of those critical of military rule, halting the pro-Morsi
demonstrations has been welcomed with the logic that the military saved Egypt
from the ‘terrorist threat.’
The
political repercussions will be long-lasting. The government is considering a
ban on the Muslim Brotherhood, a move that would drive the group underground
and potentially lead it to violent means. Meanwhile, those pro-Morsi and
anti-military protesters who do not belong to the Muslim Brotherhood find
themselves on the margins in the two-sided conflict. Also sidelined is the
interim government. Its leadership role looks increasingly uncertain: in a
state of war, people want security, not messy political processes.
The
military has sought to make itself indispensable. In constructing a ‘terrorist’
enemy, violent retribution from Islamists, who have been targeted by force, was
hardly unexpected. Some even question whether this was military’s plan all
along—to push the Islamists toward violence, so as to justify the need for
military dominance. Al-Sisi seems ready to take on this leadership role. As he
told the Washington Post recently: “I could have just satisfied myself being a
minister of defense and turned my head away from the Egyptians and the problems
from which they were suffering every day and just left the Egyptian scene to
boil. We changed places—the military and the Egyptians. We wanted to give them
comfort, to relieve their suffering, and take the suffering on our shoulders.”
As long
as the Muslim Brotherhood is considered a danger to Egypt’s security, many
Egyptians will see the military as the only force to combat it. In turn,
Al-Sisi will be seen as the only leader to keep the country from spiraling into
a civil war. It won’t be surprising if Al-Sisi’s pictures continue smiling at
Egyptians for a while to come. But a democratic, political solution remains far
off.
Rozina
Ali is senior editor of the Cairo Review of Global Affairs. Previously, she was
an editor at the Economist Intelligence Unit in New York. She has contributed
to Foreign Policy, New York Times' Room for Debate, and Salon. On Twitter
@rozina_ali.