On the Arab Street, Rage Is Contagious

Days after popular protests toppled Tunisia's despot, Egyptians rise against their autocratic ruler — and key U.S. ally — Hosni Mubarak. Who's next?

  • Mohammed Abed/AFP/Getty Images

    Day of Wrath Thousands of demonstrators clash with police in central Cairo on Jan. 25

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    That's not to say Egypt's long-suffering opposition groups stayed entirely on the sidelines: prominent opposition figures could be seen marching with the crowds. But it was the newbies who made the greatest impact, and you could tell from the concerns they voiced. They were not demanding political freedoms — although they gamely joined the chants for those too — but protesting the parlous state of the economy. Ahmed Khairi, a public-health worker demonstrating in Tahrir Square, listed his laments: "Gas in Egypt has gotten so expensive. People can't afford health insurance. There are people here because they can't find jobs or get married."

    Economic frustration has been a common thread in the street protests that have rippled through the Arab world since Tunisia. The other common complaint: corruption. "We came here for a reason, to tell Mubarak that we don't want his corrupt regime," said Ahmed Mosaad, a translator, as he marched through the working-class Cairo neighborhood of Shubra.

    The government tried to distance the protests from those elsewhere in the Arab world. When several Egyptians followed the example of the Tunisian street vendor Mohammed Bouazizi, whose self-immolation sparked the Jasmine Revolution, the copycats were dismissed by Egyptian Prime Minister Ahmed Nazif as people with "personal problems." On Jan. 26, after the first day of protests, the Foreign Ministry issued a statement claiming that the "open environment of freedom of expression" and a police commitment to protecting demonstrators were a "notable contrast to recent situations in the region."

    It's true that the initial police reaction to the demonstrations was markedly different from prior practice. Typically, cops respond to protests by encircling demonstrators with shields and batons, restricting their movement and numbers. But early on Jan. 25, police allowed the crowds to course through the capital, moving from neighborhood to neighborhood and even pushing through police cordons when they formed. "People are expressing their feelings," said a police captain in Shubra with a shrug when asked about the new restrained stance. "People want freedom." But as the crowd turned and pushed toward another line of shields, he added a warning note: "We can contain them at any time."

    By sunset, the police were losing patience as the thousands who had convened at different Cairo landmarks throughout the day made their way toward Liberation Square in the heart of downtown. Police pounded on their shields in a show of aggression and then moved in with truncheons. As tear-gas shells exploded in their midst, protesters rushed the police, then retreated. (Two policemen have been killed so far in the violence.)

    The protesters' ranks were bolstered by hundreds more who flowed into the square from nearby bridges and side streets as the light grew dim. "Tomorrow, Egypt will follow Tunisia's path," the crowd chanted. "Get out, Mubarak! Saudi Arabia is waiting for you," others yelled, referring to Ben Ali's country of refuge. At one point, demonstrators threw tear-gas canisters back at police, forcing some of them to retreat a few blocks. The turnaround brought more youth into the fray. Mustafa Mohamed Nufal, a 13-year-old with gas-induced tears streaming down his face, was defiant. "Not everyone is afraid," he said. He meant the protesters. There were plenty of frightened people in the presidential palaces of the Arab world.

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