In 2011, I, like most Egyptians at the time, had little hope that the Hosni Mubarak regime would end. His 30 years in power have been marked by systematic human rights violations. His pathological concern for his own security gave rise to a vast autocratic and bureaucratic state, with little civil or political freedom. Unemployment was high. Wages were low. Business was controlled by Mubarak’s family and their immediate circle. The police were involved in beatings, sexual abuse and other forms of torture. Opposition figures have been sentenced to years in prison in military courts.
I knew that protests against Mubarak’s security system were planned when I left Egypt on business on 24 January. At the time, I was mainly living abroad and I thought that these protests would have nothing significant. But what I read, saw on TV and heard from friends over the next 17 days changed everything. Millions of Egyptians took to the streets, demanding changes and, for the first time in many years, I began to have hope. I began to dream of a better Egypt, and there were many like me: many who had left the public domain and were now returning to Egypt to play a role in shaping their future.
On the way back, on February 13, just two days after Mubarak’s expulsion, everyone on the plane was filled with joy. Everyone was talking; it was like a big family coming home together, full of hope. Passengers applauded when the pilot made the landing announcement and started to hug when he stopped. I will never forget that day.
I wanted to help build the new Egypt. I was one of the 100 people elected to form the assembly that drafted the new constitution and I was chosen to be its secretary general. I was appointed Minister of Planning and International Cooperation. The work was varied, but there was a lot to do and no time to waste. Our goal was to build institutions that would consolidate the democratic values that we believe in.
Many mistakes have been made. It was inevitable after 30 years of political stagnation. And the biggest one was that politicians didn’t realize that they had to remove the deep state, not just their head. But my enthusiasm never waned in the next two and a half years – until the army regained control in 2013. I dedicated myself to all the activities I could. We endeavored to write an adequate constitution for post-revolutionary Egypt, which would reflect the wishes of the people and put an end to the madness of the 1971 document, which gave the incumbent unlimited power and time in office. However, there was great tension in the air and deep division between the Egyptians.
I was in Moscow for meetings in 2013, when the Egyptian military gave its 48-hour ultimatum to the government, telling it to “resolve its differences” with the protesters, who had met across the country against Mohamed Morsi’s presidency for several days. I knew that what I was hearing was the first tremors of an imminent blow. When I flew back to Egypt, on the night of July 2, the mood was one of despondency – a far cry from the emotion I experienced when I returned after the revolution against Mubarak. The following day, the military coup was launched by the army chief, General Abdel Fatah al-Sisi, now president of Egypt.
After the coup, I spoke with several delegates from the international community. We, elected politicians in Egypt, were simply instructed to accept the military coup. I met Catherine Ashton, the EU’s top representative for foreign affairs and security policy. I met William Burns, who arrived a week before Sisi forces killed almost 1,000 people in Rabaa. (Burns is now nominated to be Joe Biden’s new CIA director.) I met many other international delegates. Everyone said the same thing: “accept reality”. John Kerry, then US Secretary of State, said the military coup was carried out in the name of democracy.
Perhaps the international community was not complicit in the coup, nor in the ensuing bloodshed. But it covered up the event, and his support for Sisi, then and now, is one of the main reasons for his regime’s resistance.
Ten years after the beginning of the Arab spring, the general who became President Sisi, endorsed by the free world, made Egypt almost unworkable. There are more than 60,000 political prisoners. Mass trials and death sentences – including for children – are increasingly common. There are tortures, enforced disappearances, extrajudicial executions. There is no freedom of speech or political space. Women are often targeted. Should we “accept” this reality? After all this, for many, Mubarak’s Egypt now looks like paradise.
The country is united in the belief that, if the international community was not responsible for the overthrow of President Morsi, it is now complicit in the murder, torture and indiscriminate abolition of the rights that characterize the Sisi regime. You must accept the role you played in allowing that to happen. You must know that, even if they choose to look away, the Egyptian people will never, ever forget what was allowed to happen.
In retrospect, everyone now knows that supporting the 2013 military coup was a mistake. What we needed above all else was to come together as a nation to restore democracy in Egypt, regardless of political differences. First of all, we needed to walk the democratic path together, arm in arm. And we don’t.
But the hope that we all had on the night of February 11, 2011, when Mubarak was forced to resign, remains. It may seem small, but it is there, below the surface, in the heart of the Egyptian people. Given an opportunity, one day it will make itself known, and I believe that day will come soon. The desire for freedom is strong. It can never be extinguished. This is what history has always told us.