The Chronikler

Religious freedom at stake in Egypt

By Osama Diab

If you don't fast during Ramadan in Egypt, lie about it; hide it. Otherwise, you might land in jail.

26 August 2010

Tarek Elshabini, a 21-year-old engineering student, is Muslim, but only according to his personal ID card. Every year when Ramadan comes, he faces a dilemma: he doesn't fast because he's an atheist, but everyone, including police officers, expects him to fast because he was born to a Muslim family.

In order to avoid any possible clashes between Elshabini and his family due to his non-religious credos, he decided to move away for a while until they are able to live with this new reality. Most families, in what was called the most religious country in the world by Gallup, would find it bitter to swallow the fact that their son does not believe God exists.

Elshabini managed to find a job in Hurghada as a bar tender in a night club to make his getaway, and on his second day in the Red Sea tourist city, he had to go to the police station to acquire the certificate of good conduct required by his new employer. After a few hours of struggling with governmental bureaucracy, Elshabini got his clean criminal record and was out of the police station at noon.

To kill his thirst, Elshabini stopped at the kiosk across from the police station for a soda. He stood there, bought a can of soda and lit a cigarette. Elshabini had no idea that last Ramadan at least 150 people were arrested in Aswan and Hurghada, where he just arrived, for eating, drinking or/and smoking in broad daylight during Ramadan. This was new and it was the first time it had occurred in Egypt.

It wasn't the last time though. This year, two micro-bus drivers were also arrested in Cairo for the same reason. A Ramadan crackdown was also carried out by police officers in Hurghada to arrest those who eat, smoke or drink publicly before sunset.

While Elshabini was smoking his cigarette and drinking his soda, a plain-clothed officer came up to him and asked what his name was before he invited him into the police station. "At this point, I thought that I might have forgotten something inside while getting my papers, and this very nice man was going to help me get it," explains Elshabini.

The officer knew from his middle name, Ahmed, that he was a "Muslim".

In Egypt, personal ID cards state the citizen's religions. The government of Egypt only recognises the three Abrahamic faiths: Islam, Christianity and Judaism. Therefore, atheists like Tarek, have to state one of these religions in their ID cards.

The officer then told Elshabini he was arrested on the charge of "public breaking of the fast" and locked him up in detention. For three hours, no one would talk to him or tell him what was happening until the officer who arrested him came back. "I kept telling him I was sorry, and that I forgot that it was Ramadan and that I was fasting; anything just to get myself out of this," says Elshabini.

Heba Morayef, a Human Right Watch researcher, explains that there is no such crime as "public breaking of the fast". "The arrest of people for smoking in public during Ramadan is illegal under both Egyptian and international law. These arrests are arbitrary in the absence of any legal provisions under Egyptian law," says Morayef.

After three hours of begging, Elshabini was finally released. "I'll believe you this time, and I'll let you off with no police report. How's that for a favor?" Elshabini says the officer told him.

Morayef also believes that these arrests seem to be occurring as a result of initiatives of individual police stations rather than a top-down policy by the ministry of interior. She believes, though, that this does not absolve the government of the responsibility for these illegal arrests. "The government must clearly issues instructions that its security officers do not have the right to arrest people who appear not to be fasting," she adds.

"Ramadan is the time of year that I would very much like to disappear from the face of the earth. Everybody is badly infected with this mass religious hysteria, and people start to interfere in other people's business," says Elshabini.

The story of Elshabini shows how Egypt's relatively secular police is becoming increasingly intolerant when it comes to freedom of religion. It also demonstrates the government's failure to acknowledge that there are people who might not believe in Islam, Christianity or Judaism. Egyptian law still does not address this issue either. Until last year, members of the Baha'i faiths had to write Muslim on their ID cards because the law does not recognise the Baha'ism as a religion. Last year, the court allowed Baha'is to choose to leave the religion field blank.

These arrests also show that freedom of religion and belief is in danger in Egypt which has always been known for its relative religious tolerance, especially in contrast with more theocratic regimes in the region, such as Saudi Arabia and most of the Gulf countries, Sudan and Iran, but for a second year in a row, this seems to be changing, at least on an unofficial level.

"After three of the most humiliating hours in my life, I couldn't believe what was happening. At some point, I thought that this was a TV show or something; that this was a trick, but unfortunately, every part of what happened was real," says Elshabini.

However, many Egyptians are against these arrests. A facebook group called 'Egyptians from all beliefs are against the arresting of non-fasters in Ramadan' attracted some 800 members in just a few days. "Respect expected by people who fast should be based on personal choice," says Hany Freedom, the creator of the online group who chose to go by his Facebook name. "Otherwise, how would the faster know if others are considerate out of conviction or only because they are forced to."

This article first appeared in The Staggers blog of The New Statesman on 23 August 2010. Republished here with the author's permission. Read comments on this article here. ©Osama Diab. All rights reserved.

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Make Ramadan torture-free in Egypt

By Osama Diab

It's Ramadan, but the Egyptian police continue to practise brutality and torture. This year, they should set a better example.

19 August 2010

Ramadan is the month during which the Qur'an was first revealed more than 1,400 years ago. Muslims are supposed to wash away their sins during this month because the reward for good deeds at this time is believed to be bigger. People are not only expected to abstain from eating and drinking during daylight, but also from malicious behaviour. Charity is also encouraged. The most visible signs of this in Egypt are the mawa'ed ar-rahman (tables of mercy) which are scattered all over the country offering poor people free food to break their fast.

Given the altruistic nature of Ramadan, we can only hope that torture and beating people to death are on the police's list of sins to wash away this month.

One thing is for certain: Egypt's police has a long list of sins for which they need to repent. News of police brutality and torture have dominated the pages of independent and opposition news outlets over the past two months. Khaled Said's killing, among other incidents of police brutality, has made Egyptians more furious than ever. Anti-brutality protests took place on an almost daily basis for a few weeks after Said's death. Unsurprisingly, the government responded to its accusers by claiming brazenly that it was just an isolated incident. But its decision to extend the emergency law a few months ago made clear that law enforcement is probably not going to get any less brutal.

These supposedly "isolated" brutal acts have been called "systematic" by human rights organisations. "Torture in Egypt has become epidemic, affecting large numbers of ordinary citizens who find themselves in police custody as suspects or in connection with criminal investigations", reads a Human Rights Watch report from September 2009.

Despite having such a poor record on human rights, the Egyptian police still feels righteous enough to conduct occasional morality raids. Last Ramadan, I wrote that the Egyptian police took a pious stand by arresting more than 150 people who publicly ate and smoked during fasting hours. I argued back then that the increasing religiosity of society, driven by the Muslim Brotherhood and Salafi movements, had put pressure on Egypt's relatively secular regime to act more "Islamic". This time around, a wholesale police campaign has been launched and endorsed by the interior ministry.

Many Muslims, including those in the police, think Ramadan is only about refraining from food, water, smoking and sex, and actually behave in a way that is completely antithetical to the principles of the month. For example, over-indulgence is common during iftar (the meal which breaks the fast), but part of the point of refraining from food is to experience its lack in order to sympathise with the poor. Restraint and self-discipline are the pillars of Ramadan, but many people still completely lose their temper during the hour before iftar when traffic is at its craziest and people are at their hungriest and thirstiest.

This Ramadan, the Ministry of the Interior should give strict orders to its men regarding the ill-treatment of citizens. Rather than giving orders to arrest people for eating and smoking publicly, it should declare Ramadan a torture-free month. In my opinion, it would be more "Ramadanic" to stop torturing people than forcing them to fast. Ramadan's philosophy is about forgiveness and tolerance, not the wielding of absolute authority over citizens who have committed no crime.

This column appeared in The Guardian Unlimited’s Comment is Free section on 11 August 2010. Read the related discussion. Reprinted here with the author's permission. © Osama Diab. All rights reserved.

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I say you want a revolution, Egypt

By Osama Diab

Activists in Egypt should look to the hippy movement of the 1960s for a successful model in bringing about long-term social change.

Since the establishment of the Kifaya (Enough) movement in 2004, the Egyptian political scene has changed dramatically. If this continues, political resistance in Egypt is likely to become much more dynamic than it has been since the 1952 revolution, which overthrew the monarchy and established a republic.

Movements such as Kifaya, the April 6 youth movement and the national coalition for change headed by Mohamed Elbaradei, have all played their part in making the political life of Egypt less stagnant. They have managed to increase the margins of freedom and push for political reforms and will continue to do so, but they can't do it alone.

These groups all focus on short-term political gains. Their demands focus on short-term goals – constitutional change, free and fair elections, putting an end to emergency law – but they often ignore the most important element that could drive real change in the future: social change.

With a society that is reversing social progress and embracing conservative values, the drive for democracy and equality may find few supporters. Many in Egypt still do not recognise the equality of women and embrace discrimination against religious and ethnic minorities. Some discard democracy and human rights as a western invention and as part of an imperialist agenda. What Egypt needs, rather than a few groups preaching against the current regime and political system, is a durable social movement that decades from now can influence politicians and decision-makers.

Look, for example, at the social and political impact the hippy movement had in the US and, arguably, the entire world. Some argue that America wouldn't have had a black president if it wasn't for the social progress and momentum built in the 1960s.

The reason behind the hippies' success in changing the course of history is not only their anti-war sentiments, care for the environment, or their criticism of middle-class values and big corporate practices. These are values that were all preached by others long before the hippies.

No, what made the hippy movement attract millions of youth in the United States and globally was the subculture to carry their messages, rather than the value of the message itself. Their hip and exotic fashion, music and lifestyle is what appealed to tens of millions of young people confused by the Vietnam War and examining the values of their parents. The new fashions they created, and the focus on art and culture in their movement, made it easier for their message to spread.

Whether we agree or disagree with the values of the hippy movement, one can't deny that it had its own distinctive culture, creating one of the strongest social revolutions in history. Its emphasis on equality and environmental and pacifist values still influence the world today, and its subculture became part of American mainstream culture in the 1970s.

Here in Egypt, a country that puts so much emphasis on people's gender, social class and religion, a strong grassroots social movement and a subculture needs to emerge with a list of social, political and environmental demands. Ayman Massoud, the keyboardist of the Arabic rock band Massar Egbari ("Compulsory Direction"), explained to me what they mean by the name of the band. In his view, society draws a compulsory direction for us to take in order to fit society's idea of what is proper and successful.

"If someone wants to become a drummer, their parents will tell them to finish college first and then they can do whatever they want. But after they finish college, society will force them to find a job and practise their hobby on the side. After that, they will become too drained from their jobs and gradually forget about their old dream," says Massoud.

Egyptian dissidents don't have to – and should not – follow in the footsteps of others, but establish a culture that will make it easier to promote their beliefs. I wrote before in Egypt Today about how an underground music scene is emerging in Egypt focusing more on societal issues. This appeals to those who are tired of a pop scene dominated by attractive singers chiming love songs to western beats: music that avoids issues facing Egyptian youth today. This can be the root from which a new subculture can stem.

A movement like this would likely face huge social condemnation. It is inevitable it will be described as a threat to national security by the regime and a threat to society and its values by religious groups, but new ideas and social change are often faced with resistance.

Khaled Diab pointed out in Brian Whitaker's book, What's really wrong with the Middle East, that Egypt has a million Mubaraks – meaning that authoritarianism in Egypt exists not only in the political leadership, but also in families, schools and workplaces. As long as people themselves don't believe in the values of democracy and liberty, no number of political groups lobbying for change will succeed in pushing for reform.

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Overplaying Egyptomania

By Osama Diab

Egypt’s pavillion at the Shanghai Expo 2010 misses the mark of modernity and dwells excessively on the country's ancient past.

9 July 2010

It is a promoter’s wildest dream: access to some 500,000 people every day, representing all ages, nationalities and backgrounds. An opportunity to reach 70 million visitors in just six months. And thousands of journalists producing thousands of news reports for media outlets all over the world, all in the same place. Does this sound too good to be true? This is Expo 2010, running 1 May to 31 October, in Shanghai, China.

Since the first world exposition was held in London in 1851, countries have gathered every few years to raise their international profiles, show off their accomplishments and educate the world about what they have to offer. This year, more than 190 countries are represented at the Shanghai event, themed 'Better City, Better World'. Set up over more than five square kilometers, pavillions for individual nations, regions, and some industries and corporations, vie for the visitor’s attention.

I spent a week at Expo 2010 in May, invited by the telecom company Ericsson to attend their business innovation forum held at the Swedish pavilion, a 3,000-square-metre space with as its theme 'Spirit of Innovation'. Through its exhibits, Sweden focuses on technological advancement, overcoming environmental challenges, promoting sustainability and possible solutions to the world’s problems.

Impressed by what I had seen in the Swedish pavillion and with the expo in general, I couldn’t wait to see what the Egyptian pavillion would be like. Would we be able to compete with all these new heights of innovation, technology, architecture and development?

History meets... history

If the ‘ribbons’ are meant to connect Egypt’s past with the present, then I guess it makes sense that they are swirling aimlessly, as the pavillion’s content represents nothing of modern Egypt. ©Osama Diab

Egypt’s 1,000-square-metre pavillion was designed as a gift by internationally renowned Iraqi architect Zaha Hadid. A bit stark with swirling black and white swooshes, it is apparently meant to combine modernity with antiquity, represented by the constellation-like graphic of three pyramids above the arched entrance. Indeed, the building looks like some lost spaceship which had landed in Shanghai by mistake and was now trying to avoid notice by disguising itself as a pavillion.

While I am not a big fan of our pavillion’s design, I do think anything that is not Ancient Egyptian kitsch is huge progress. I was excited to see there was no Tutankhamun or other notable pharaohs outside to welcome visitors. The excitement was short-lived.

Despite cloudy weather and rain, thousands of Chinese people were standing in line for nearly an hour to visit our pavillion. The security guard spotted us and knew we were Egyptian even before he shouted, “Masreyeen?” Excited to see Egyptians in China other than his boss, the guard ushered us to the head of the line: “Were you thinking of standing in line or what?” he chided us, “Etfadalo, etfadalo [Come in, come in].”

Inside, the swooshes have gone wild, with a veritable hurricane of white circling the black interior. “The flying ribbons are meant to embody modernity represented by the design, and history represented by the pavilion’s content,” Mohamed Gomaa, the manager of Egypt’s pavillion, explains. “So the idea is to link the present to the past and the ribbons are that link.”

Amid this maelstrom of ‘ribbons’ are sparsely arranged eight Ancient Egyptian artifacts, including a large statue of Amenhotep IV. So much for my hopes of a pharaoh-free pavillion.

Egyptomania is apparently a strong selling point. Despite its moderate size, Egypt’s pavilion receives a fair share of visitors, averaging 14,000 per day and up to 18,000 during the first few weekends, according to Gomaa. He says that the line gets so long some days that it blocks the exit of Tunisia’s pavilion nearby.

“The police came a few times to ask us to try to get more people into the pavilion,” says Gomaa. “There’s a limit to the people that can go inside at once because we need to keep everything under control to protect the original pieces we have.”

Other than the antiquities, the pavillion’s major attraction was the gift shop sponsored by the Luxor governorate. Ahmed Eid, a fine arts graduate and Luxor native, says that they have had a high turnout. Eid’s job is to write visitor’s names in hieroglyphs on papyrus; he says he does at least 40 drawings a day. “Chinese visitors are passionate about the Ancient Egyptian civilisation,” he says, “and [they] love the idea of writing their names in the Ancient Egyptian language.”

If the ‘ribbons’ are meant to connect Egypt’s past with the present, then I guess it makes sense that they are swirling aimlessly, as the pavillion’s content represents nothing of modern Egypt.

“The point of the expo is to promote Egypt’s name rather than a certain product or service,” Gomaa explains. To hear his take on the visitors’ reaction, you would think little promotion needs to be done. “When we tell people here that we like China, they say ‘we love Egypt’ back. They always tell us that China and Egypt are the oldest two civilisations in the world and have a lot in common,” Gomaa says. “We are happy to be here in a country that is an example of an ancient history and a bright future.”

This is all very nice, but what about our present? Our Pharaonic past has no need for further promotion. I was hoping that Egypt would promote something future-oriented that would fit better with the expo’s theme, such as opportunities for clean energy, medical tourism, the nation’s growing economy and investment opportunities, or its booming ICT industry.

After seeing the future in China, an equally ancient civilisation that is fast growing in international prominence, I can’t help but wonder when Egypt will find something newer than a few thousand years old to be proud of.

This article first appeared in the July 2010 edition of Egypt Today. Republished here with the author's permission. © Osama Diab. All rights reserved.

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Criminal injustice in Egypt

By Khaled Diab

Egyptian police and a decades-old emergency law stand in the dock of public opinion following a young man's alleged murder.

6 July 2010

The 'before' and 'after' shots looked like the makeover from hell. Before, we have a clean-cut young man who appears to be rather reserved and perhaps even somewhat shy. After, his once-youthful and pleasant face looks up with dead eyes, disfigured beyond recognition. It looks like it has caved in on itself, particularly around the mouth and jaw.

The cause of his death? It depends on whose side of the story you believe. According to eye-witnesses and Khaled Said's family, the 28-year-old Alexandrian was dragged out of an internet cafe and brutally beaten to death.

According to the official story, as outlined in two coroner's reports, he died of asphyxiation caused by his attempt to swallow a packet of 'bungo' (a form of marijuana), presumably out of fear of being caught in possession. The post-mortem did concede that the young man had injuries resulting from a "collision with solid objects", but claimed that these had not led to his death.

With public distrust of the police almost universal, the Egyptian public – not to mention human rights groups – are highly sceptical of the investigation's findings. Why? Well, the evidence doesn't really add up and the government has got form when it comes to covering up police brutality, which human rights groups say is "systematic" and "endemic".

Many see this as a blatant attempt to posthumously tarnish the good name of a law-abiding young man – who was also reportedly apolitical – to mask the ugly handiwork of the regime's iron fist.

But if Said was not a political activist nor a criminal, why was he attacked by police in the first place?

The original theory doing the rounds was that he had objected to a heavy-handed police raid of the internet cafe and this provoked the fragile egos of the two plain-clothed officers. His family allege that this was retribution for his posting online of a video, which appears to show police officers dividing up the spoils of a drugs haul.

Since the dead can't protest, hundreds of thousands of Egyptians have refused to be cowed or intimidated into silence and have taken up Said's cause. A Facebook campaign set up to keep his memory alive and to seek justice for the young "martyr" has attracted nearly a quarter of a million members in Arabic and 25,000 in English.

And, unlike some earlier campaigns that did not venture far beyond cyberspace, this one has spilled out onto the Egyptian streets. In addition to the hundreds who attended Said's funeral, "flash mobs" have organised a number of successful protests. One of the most poignant was when thousands of people stood in a long chain along Alexandria's seafront – spaced five metres apart, in part to get around Egypt's draconian emergency law, which bans mass public assemblies – and stood silently or read their Qur'ans and Bibles.

In fact, silence has been the by-word. As one Egyptian commented on Facebook: "If speaking up only brings more violence, then silence will have to articulate our grief."

Last Friday, large protests took place in a number of major Egyptian cities, with opposition figurehead and the main challenger to President Hosni Mubarak in next year's elections, Mohamed ElBaradei, the former IAEA chief, joining the Alexandria sit-in.

Despite this concerted show of public anger, the two officers allegedly behind Said's death remain on active duty.

"The nation is on the verge of social explosion, and amid all this, you'd expect the regime to act very cautiously regarding issues of political freedom and human rights to contain public anger, but they are just doing the exact opposite," my brother, Osama, tells me in disbelief. "It feels bad to be ruled by authoritarianism, but it feels even worse to be ruled by stupid authoritarianism that is unable to think before it acts."

Although Said's death is a huge tragedy for his family, if it helps to ram the final nail in the coffin of Egypt's emergency law, then this tragedy will not have been in vain. Three decades old, this draconian legislation has hung over the heads of Said's generation their entire lives and has effectively transformed Egypt into a police state.

The unconstitutional emergency law, which activists have been trying to reverse and repeal for years, grants the police and security services so much discretionary power that it has led to torture and even murder, with few perpetrators brought to justice. The Egyptian Organisation for Human Rights documented 46 torture cases and 17 cases of death between June 2008 to February 2009 alone.

"Under the state of emergency, the power of security forces has become absolute. It has become a hegemonic force in the country, even judicially," says Bahey Eddin Hassan, general director of the Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies. "Without a real balance of power, you do not have the rule of law and judicial independence. Without real balance, you lose the voice of the people."

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Love and loathing in the Middle East

By calling Egyptians who marry Israelis traitors, Egypt has betrayed a group of vulnerable people who are guilty of little more than loving across enemy lines.

10 June 2010

Loving someone against the will of your family is tough enough for many people caught in such a predicament, especially in close-knit societies. Being in an international relationship can pose certain challenges, particularly if the couple do not keep an open mind and fail to live by a spirit of compromise and accommodation. But even when a couple live harmoniously and are completely compatible, the outside world may still not leave them alone, especially if their relationship bridges the unstable fault lines of a conflict.

I know of some Palestinians and Israelis, those most intimate of enemies, who have braved the risk of ostracisation and rejection by their respective communities for the sake of love. But I can imagine that keeping the toxicity of the bitter conflict between their two peoples from seeping into their private lives and poisoning their relationship can be a tough mountain to scale.

Although I know and have heard of a number of Egyptian-Jewish couples, I’ve never actually come across any Egyptians who are married to Israelis. This is hardly surprising as there is minimal contact between the two societies as a cold peace continues to reign between them.

But they do exist and, rare as they are, they’ve become the target of a high-profile hate campaign playing itself out in the Egyptian courts, instigated by Nabih el-Wahsh, that crusading Egyptian lawyer who has brought, mostly unsuccessful, morality cases against Egyptian intellectuals, including Nawal el-Saadawi, artists, religious leaders and government ministers.

The self-righteous lawyer turned his attention to this new demographic group  last year, and launched a law suit to demand that Egypt implement an obsolete 1976 article of Egypt’s citizenship law which revokes the citizenship of Egyptians married to Israelis who have served in the army (i.e. pretty much all Israelis).

A lower court had ruled in favour of el-Wahsh but the Egyptian government appealed the verdict. Last week, the Supreme Administrative Court rejected the appeal and called on the Ministry of Interior to take the necessary measures to strip Egyptian men married to Israeli women, and their children, of their citizenship. The judge who issued the ruling made an exception for Egyptian men married to Palestinian women with Israeli nationality.

The verdict has sparked controversy in Egypt, with many applauding the court’s “patriotism”, while others believed that the government does not and should not have the right to strip an Egyptian of his or her nationality.

Against the backdrop of worsening ties with Israel due to the humanitarian crisis in Gaza caused by the Israeli blockage and Israel’s ever-tightening grip on the West Bank, some were somewhat shrill in their applause of the verdict. Sahar el-Gaara, a secular Egyptian columnist, condemned every Egyptian married to an Israeli, even Arab Israelis, as a “potential spy, since he stamped his passport with an Israeli visa”.

By this flawed logic, although I am not married to an Israeli nor did I allow Israeli immigration to stamp my passport, the fact that I visited Israel and Palestine would also makes me a potential spy, even though I was there on a personal peace mission.

I always thought that the basic principle of the legal system is that a person is innocent until proven guilty. So, call me gullible or something, but I thought that, for someone to be guilty of spying, they have to actually be caught in the act of espionage – which, in this case, would be very difficult considering that most Egyptians married to Israelis don’t live in Egypt.

Besides, and more fundamentally, marriage is not a crime, and especially not one so serious that it would entitle the government to strip you of your most fundamental right, the right to nationality. A person’s choice of life partner is theirs alone to make, and society or the government, no matter how much they disapprove, should not have the power to limit that choice.

Of course, in reality, societies do limit that choice unfairly: for instance, gay marriages are not allowed in most countries, inter-faith marriages are completely forbidden in Israel (ironically due to an obsolete Ottoman system which allowed each religious community to set its own personal laws and the disproportionate power of the Israeli rabbinate in this hybrid secular society), and Egyptian Muslim women are not allowed to marry non-Muslim men (which is presumably why this court ruling does not apply to them). But revoking someone’s nationality is taking this to another level.

Egyptian human rights activists are up in arms at this preposterous verdict. “Egyptian law says citizenship can only be revoked if the citizen is proven to be spying on his country, [so] this verdict considers marrying an Israeli an act of spying,” Cairo-based attorney and human rights activist Negad al-Borai told Reuters.

The head of the Egyptian expatriate community in Israel, Shokri el-Shazli, suggested that the verdict was hypocritical. “In Israel, there is an Egyptian embassy and consulate which welcome a continuous stream of visiting Egyptian delegations,” he told al-Masry al-Youm.

And I cannot help but think that these Egyptians – small and marginalised group that they are – constitute an easy and soft target to channel popular anger at Israel’s blockade of Gaza and Egypt’s complicity in it.

It is still unclear whether the verdict will be implemented, but el-Shazli doubts it will. “This will create social and political problems internationally, not just in bilateral Egyptian-Israeli relations,” he opined, noting that the Egyptian community in Israel was considering its options and may raise the matter to the United Nations, including the Security Council.

While I’m personally against normalising economic ties with Israel until a comprehensive peace settlement has been reached, I welcome grassroots contacts between Israelis and Arabs, and believe that, if they so choose, couples who straddle the divide can help build bridges between the two sides and aid the process of humanising that we need to replace the current demonisation.

But whether or not they can bridge the gap between enemies is beside the point. The bottom line is that, whether you love or loath thy neighbour, you must recognise that individuals are not responsible for the group and are free to marry anyone they like.

________

Are marriages between Arabs and Israelis tantamount to treason? Vote now

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Seeing the world through new tongues

 By Khaled Diab

Being monolingual can be limiting, so why not learn another language and get a new perspective on the world?

Monday 7 June 2010

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By the book

By Khaled Diab

Following the lead of Islamists, Egyptian Christians are trying to ban an award-winning novel because it 'insults' Christianity.

18 May 2010

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Stop press

By Khaled Diab

Jordanian journalists believe they do not enjoy enough freedom – a malaise shared with the rest of the Middle East. But why?

12 May 2010

Nidal Mansour at his office in Amman.

A new survey on press freedom conducted by the Amman-based Centre for Defending the Freedom of Journalists (CDFJ) makes for sober reading. Despite Jordan's stated commitment to freedom of expression, only a minuscule minority (2%) of the 500 or so journalists surveyed said that they were entirely satisfied with the state of press freedom in the kingdom.

"Over and over again, speeches on media freedom have not been coupled with practical procedures in spite of all the clear royal messages addressing this issue," said Nidal Mansour, who heads the CDFJ.

A fifth of those surveyed said they had been exposed to attempts to "contain" them, while 57% said they knew of colleagues who had been the victims of such containment. Co-option is also a common practice and one that can be far more effective than intimidation. The vast majority of journalists believed that journalistic favours in return for gifts and bribes were common.

In addition, some 95% of media professionals said that they practised self-censorship. While such crimes of omission are common even in the west, especially in places like the United States, the magnitude of the problem and the number of taboo subjects appear to be far greater in Jordan. Topics that are generally off-limits centre on a kind of "holy trinity": the king and the royal household, religion, and state institutions, including corruption in high places.

A couple of years ago, I had the pleasure of meeting Mansour in Amman where he told me about the CDFJ's Media Legal Aid Unit (Melad) which seeks to empower journalists and facilitate press freedom by providing media professionals with training on their rights and legal support.

And it is definitely needed. Despite the decriminalisation of press offences on paper in 2007, an estimated 100 clauses in national law allow legal action to be taken against journalists. An example of this occurred in 2003 when three Jordanian journalists were imprisoned for "defaming" the prophet in an article on Muhammad's sex life.

Jordan is ranked 117 out of 175 countries in Reporters Sans Frontières' annual Press Freedom Index (PFI), while neighbouring Egypt occupies the 143rd position in the league table. As a non-Jordanian, I don't know if this is a fair reflection of the situation there. I agree with my wife's assessment that the quality of journalism is high in Jordan, but certain key differences between Jordan and Egypt lead me to the conclusion that its media is actually more vibrant and outspoken.

What warps the picture in Egypt, as I have argued before, is the existence of large, state-owned media conglomerates (whose publications have become less popular than the independents), and the more frequent crackdowns by the state – triggered by a nervous government under immense popular pressure to change and the media's incessant drive to push the limits of freedom further out. In addition, Egypt's media tradition and modernising civil society movements are the oldest in the region.

"In Egypt, it might seem there is more control of the media. But, in fact, there is more independent journalism in Egypt, so more issues are discussed and come to the public eye," was Mansour's own assessment.

In contrast, Jordan's media appears to be a lot less confrontational, and more willing to wait for top-down reform from King Abdullah II. This is partly because of the reverence in which the royal household is held, with its claims of descent from the Prophet, and the fact that the Hashemites are inextricably linked with Jordan's creation and identity.

In Egypt, the awe and fear of the president were shattered a few years ago, at least in the independent media, and Egyptians are generally under no illusions as to the extent of the corruption and violence of the regime.

Moreover, Jordan, unlike Egypt, is, under its modern veneer, very much a tribal society and one in which the indigenous tribes now make up a minority of the population, with an estimated 70% of the population being of Palestinian descent. This makes its hard-won social tranquillity, particularly with the Israeli-Palestinian conflict leaking toxicity next door, a fragile one – and so many Jordanians are willing to compromise on a measure of freedom in return for stability.

But what goes for Jordan and Egypt, both of which have a strong journalistic tradition and are striving for reform, applies in spades to the entire region. 'Stop press' seems to be the byword of governments. With the exception of Lebanon and the Qatar-based al-Jazeera network, which is often said to shy away from criticism of its host, the media across the Arab world suffers, to varying degrees, from repression.

So, why is press freedom so seriously compromised in the Arab world? There are different reasons in different countries, but one common thread is the general lack of legitimacy and accountability of the region's regimes who, therefore, view the free circulation of ideas as a fatally dangerous folly.

Another reason is the volatility of the region and the numerous conflicts that plague it, the ethnic and regional fault lines which increase tensions, not to mention the legacy of Ottoman and western colonialism, as well as foreign meddling.

The Middle East's instability is not just a reason but also an excuse. Governments use the shadow of external threats – both real and imagined – to try to intimidate and silence opposition and resist policies and reforms that run contrary to their vested interests.

This is not just an Arab phenomenon, however, and the Middle East's non-Arab countries also summon the spectre of irresistible and sinister outside forces. Iran, whose regime faces a serious challenge to its legitimacy from a vibrant opposition movement, not only occupies the lowest rank of the Middle Eastern PFI league, it is also scraping the bottom of the global barrel, and is “on the threshold of joining the ‘infernal trio’ (Eritrea, North Korea, Turkmenistan)”, according to RSF. The regime in Tehran evokes frightening demons in the form of the United States and Israel to keep its population in check.

Iran itself, not to mention the Palestinians, Syrians and the generic scary "Arab", are summoned by Israeli politicians as the phantom threat that keeps dissenters in check. Although the freedom and independence of Israel's media puts the rest of the region to shame, even Israel does not fare well by global standards, and comes in at only 93 in the PFI. Its oft heavy-handed military censorship, punishment of journalists with links to Syria, its refusal to allow its journalists into the Palestinian Territories and its abuse of Palestinian journalists constitute serious breaches of media freedom.

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We don’t need no segregation

By Osama Diab

Sexual harassment in Egypt is leading to calls for gender segregation. But is hiding women really the solution?

24 April 2010

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