Quotes of the Day

For many of the Egyptians who participated in the uprising that toppled former President Hosni Mubarak in February, there was something cathartic about seeing him in a cage. "For a long time, we have been dreaming of such a day," said Ahmed Maher, the leader of the 6th of April Youth Movement. "Today is a historic day. After this trial, any future president of Egypt will think a thousand times before committing any injustice against the Egyptians. And any interior minister or police officer will think a thousand times before torturing or imprisoning a political activist."

On Wednesday morning, Hosni Mubarak went on trial on charges of corruption and ordering the killing of protesters during the uprising that altered Egypt's political landscape. The 83-year-old, who is suffering from cancer, was wheeled on a gurney into the cage — the kind of enclosure all defendants are typically held during Egyptian court sessions. He stroked his chin and occasionally picked his nose as prosecutors read out his charges and descriptions of the unarmed protesters he is accused of killing. His sons Alaa and Gamal, both on trial for corruption charges, stood beside him, holding copies of the holy Koran. Along with them were former Interior Minister Habib al-Adly, along with six of his high-ranking officers, who faced their own prosecutions as well.

Screened live on state television on the third day of the holy month Ramadan — known, among other things, for its dramatic holiday soap operas — Wednesday's courtroom scene topped most expectations for both holiday and judicial drama.

Up until the minute that Mubarak appeared on the screen, many Egyptians believed the event just wouldn't happen. "How can I ever trust them to bring me justice if they treat me without dignity," asked activist Marwa Nasser, the day before, after Egyptian security forces raided Cairo's Tahrir Square and shut-down a three-week old sit-in calling for faster reforms. "It's just going to be a lame TV show. I think they'll just let us see him, and then they'll postpone the trial for health reasons again, for maybe a few months until he dies."

In the early morning hours before the trial began, scores of journalists, victims' families, as well as the lawyers claiming to represent them, screamed at military police guarding the court's entrance in an effort to gain access. Many were shut out, leaving rows of empty seating inside the court.

In a lot outside the Police Academy, where the trial was held, Mubarak supporters clashed intermittently with trial supporters; both sides hurling rocks and glass bottles at each other, as hundreds of police looked on. One man from the pro-Mubarak camp chased another, holding a brick-sized rock, before hurling it at the latter's head. Some police officers beat protesters, and formed minimally effective cordons. Others retreated in panic when their colleagues were wounded. Asked why more of an intervention wasn't taking place, one officer shrugged: "Who would we hit? Both sides are Egyptian."

Inside the courtroom, a cluster of civil prosecutors representing victims' families requested witnesses and evidence; they called for victims' compensation and listed their demands for the upcoming proceedings. One lawyer loudly alleged that Mubarak had been assassinated in 2004, and that the man in the cage was an imposter. He called for a DNA test before the judge cut him off: "What does what you're saying have anything to do with the trial?"

Indeed, Egypt's first major attempt at post-revolution justice was far from perfect. Yet, the trial of the former dictator, who ruled Egypt for 30 years, has been widely heralded as a test of Egypt's nascent democracy, a first opportunity for the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), the core of a transitional government consisting largely of old faces, to prove that it is ready to turn over a new leaf. If convicted, Mubarak and his former Interior Minister Habib al-Adly could face the death penalty.

As proceedings concluded on Wednesday afternoon, set to resume on Aug. 15 (Adly's continues on Thursday), many activists gave the trial an enthusiastic nod of approval. "The best moment was when they entered the cage, especially Hassan Abdel Rahman, head of national security, and Ismail al-Shaar, head of Cairo security," said Maher. "They committed so much torture. And in the past, they thought of themselves like gods. Now they're just like everybody else."

The trial may also lend new, and badly needed legitimacy to Egypt's youth protest movement, which has seen its popularity wane. The Sixth of April Youth Movement, hailed months ago as heroes of the revolution, has been vilified in recent weeks by the country's military leaders, who accuse them of accepting foreign funding and following a foreign agenda. Youth activists also took a blow on Monday after the military and police dismantled their sit-in in Tahrir Square to the applause and cheers of many local residents and shopkeepers. Entering its fourth week on the first day of Ramadan, the number of protesters had shrunk to only a few hundred of "mostly independents," according to Maher. Some residents chanted "We don't want you!" at the protesters as they retreated.

Some activists admitted that it may be time to re-think a strategy that had come to revolve entirely around Tahrir sit-ins and demonstrations, which many Egyptians say are damaging the economy and scaring away tourists. "It's completely the opposite of how we started on January 25th when they were clapping for us and encouraging us to keep going," says Marwa Nasser. "Now we need to start all over again — but start from small villages and towns, and talk to people face to face. The revolution has fizzled, so it won't take just a few months, maybe longer."

Nevertheless, the first day of the trial brought a revival of spirits. "The trial occurred as the result of pressure by the protesters on the SCAF," says Maher, echoing many other youth leaders. "It all started with sit-ins in Tahrir. So we'll monitor the whole thing, and if necessary, we'll go back to Tahrir."

• Abigail Hauslohner / Cairo
• As Egypt watches the drama unfold, the waning protest movement hopes to rekindle its momentum