Friends and Foes: An Activist and an Officer Debate Egypt's Revolution
Ahmed and Ibrahim are old family friends in their late 20s, both are well-educated young men from wealthy families, part of Cairo's elite class, and both say they would lay down their lives for a better Egypt. That's where their similarities end.
Ahmed is a veteran of the 18-day anti-government protests in Tahrir Square and, along with several others, is in the process of forming a non-governmental organization to promote political awareness and citizen's rights. Ibrahim is a three-star officer in the much-despised police force and a supporter of former President Hosni Mubarak's regime.
In the past month or so, the pro- and anti-Mubarak camps have rarely come together without heated exchanges or deadly blows, but on a recent chilly evening in Cairo TIME was invited to hear a candid discussion over glasses of sweet tea and several packs of cigarettes between two old friends who are ideological foes.
Ibrahim listens intently as Ahmed excitedly recounts his time in Tahrir in great detail. An empty soft drink crate served as his helmet, Ahmed says, as he lobbed stones and clumps of rubble across a makeshift corrugated iron barricade he and his friends had erected. "We had designated some of the protesters as 'commandos,'" Ahmed says, "It was their job to go into the buildings around the square and try and attack the snipers. What about the snipers? Why did you use them on us?"
"I do not defend the police," Ibrahim says. "I'm not saying they're all good. But why weren't the police who died considered martyrs?"
Ahmed, a stocky man with boyish good looks that make him look several years younger, abruptly jumps to his feet. "Look at this," he says as he furiously scrolls through his mobile phone before leaning in toward Ibrahim. "This is a picture of a martyr in uniform and it's in Tahrir Square!"
Ibrahim slides back in his chair. "Okay, I didn't know that."
Ahmed returns to his seat, a smug satisfaction plastered across his face.
Ibrahim is a clean-shaven lanky young man with deep black eyes, short gelled-hair and an assertive tone. He thinks the country's emergency law, which has been almost continuously in effect since 1967, should not be repealed. (Egypt's transitional military leaders say they will lift it in six months.) The law gives the police wide powers to arrest suspects and hold them for an indeterminate period, as well as circumscribes political and street activity. Ibrahim says that the right to hold suspects indefinitely while they await trial is necessary, lest they skip bail. Ahmed says that a person should be considered innocent until proven guilty, that a suspect's travel documents can be confiscated to ensure compliance with bail and that it's unlikely a suspect would jeopardize his chances by committing a crime while he is out on bail.
"You have such a romantic view," Ibrahim says, leaning back into a well-worn brown leather armchair in Ahmed's office. "I'm not talking about people who skip bail and go overseas. There are guys who escaped from prison recently, we know where they are but we can't go and get them because they will kill us if we try. That's the type of person I'm talking about. Wouldn't he do the same thing if he was let out on bail?
Some 23,000 prisoners escaped from jails in the early days of the rebellion, in still-murky circumstances. According to the Interior Ministry, which controls the police force, about 10,000 have been recaptured. Ibrahim says that scrapping the emergency law will make it harder to round up the remainder. "You should tell your friends that," he says.
"The problem is they don't trust you, they don't trust the uniform," says Ahmed, an entrepreneur who manages his family's varied business interests.
"That's not fair, we're not all bad. What percentage of the officer corps do you think is rotten?" Ibrahim asks, cognizant that a journalist is listening to their conversation.
"80%, but I'm not including you."
"That's too high. That's way too high," the officer says, arguing that the ballot stuffers and thugs, or baltagiya as they are called in Egypt, were controlled by Mubarak's ruling party, the National Democratic Party, not the security forces, although he admits they did coordinate efforts. "It's not our fault, it's the system."
That "system" made the police force, both uniformed and plainclothes, the much-feared muscle propping up Mubarak's tyrannical regime. The former president was quick to sacrifice Habib al-Adli, his long-time interior minister, in the early days of the protest in a bid to assuage popular anger, but it wasn't enough. Adli is now in jail, under investigation for corruption.
Adli's successor, Mahmoud Wagdy, is trying to rehabilitate a much-despised police apparatus. According to local media reports, he wants to retrain the force in the proper treatment of civilians and detainees, and increase pay to discourage extortion. "The minister told us that we have to treat the people well during this period," Ibrahim says, retelling the details of a recent meeting a group of officers held with Wagdy at the Interior Ministry.
"The problem is the senior officers," says Ibrahim. "I don't have time to be a psychologist and to figure out how to get information from a suspect. I have superiors on the phone asking for information and results."
"That's not an excuse," Ahmed says.
"So what am I supposed to do? I have case quotas I have to meet. I'm asked to have X number of weapons cases, drugs cases. I have to meet those or I'm in trouble. We raised this with Wagdy. He says he won't set quotas from now on. We'll see."
"Yeah, everybody knows about your quotas," Ahmed says. "People joke that at the end of the year, they should stay home because the police are on the streets, trying to fill their quotas."
Both men laugh. After a while, Ibrahim turns to another subject. "You know, Hosni Mubarak deserved better than this, to be removed like this. We didn't have war for 30 years thanks to him," he says.
"Yes, but did you live in dignity?" Ahmed counters, not missing a beat.
"He's better than the alternatives, than Ayman Nour [head of the El Ghad party] or [former International Atomic Energy Agency chief Mohammed] Elbaradei. What is Elbaradei? He hasn't even lived here," Ibrahim says, referring to two opposition leaders and potential presidential candidates. (ElBaradei resides in Europe.)
"And you and your Facebook," he continues. "Embarrassing the country in a way that even people overseas could see. That is shameful."
Ahmed just smiles and shakes his head.