WATANI International
16 October 2011
On Sunday 9 October, a friend called to urge me to tune to al-Jazeera satellite TV channel immediately to follow the grave events that were taking place. I turned on the TV set; there was live coverage of a demonstration, with protestors running about in panic, shouting and screaming. Meanwhile, an armoured vehicle was rushing speedily among demonstrators, cold-heartedly running them over. Unable to understand what was the matter, I called my friend: what is new? The channel is beaming footage of the events of 28 January in Tahrir Square—the black Friday that saw the Mubarak regime’s security forces pound peaceful demonstrators, and leave dozens dead. But my friend shouted: “This has nothing to do with 28 January. This is live coverage for what is going on right now in front of the Egyptian TV building in Maspero.” I saw the Egyptian army’s armoured vehicles rushing everywhere, hysterically crushing the Coptic protestors and running over their bodies. It looked as if the drivers had suddenly gone crazy. At the same time, the ear splitting sound of gunfire filled the air, the bullets killing some on the spot and injuring others.
I stared at the screen in near-paralysis, unable to believe what I saw. I knew there had been arrangements for a demonstration by outraged Copts to protest against the barbarian assault by Muslim extremists against the church of Mar Girgis (St George) in the village of Merinab, in Edfu, Aswan—which left the church in tatters. The failure of the security authorities to prevent the attack or stand up to it, as well as the unfeeling and untruthful statements by Aswan governor, General Mustafa al-Sayed, who justified the offensive and blamed the Copts for it, misled public opinion and outraged the Copts. The Copts decided to protest the injustice by holding a demonstration in Maspero, a spot they have been used to hold protests in.
How can one explain the bloody fate of this peaceful demonstration? How can the armoured vehicles have been driven so madly to run down Egyptians? I cannot imagine that the soldiers received orders to do so. But is it possible for them to act so without orders? I browsed the channels; most were airing live coverage of the event, but I noticed that the cameras mainly focused on the crowds rather than the shooting and the armoured vehicles running over the people. I realised we are before a grim replay of the events of 28 January.
The Watani reporters who witnessed the tragic events were traumatised. Their testimony indicates that 9 October was much worse than 28 January. There is no justification whatsoever for the horrific attack. The army had promised never to shoot at an Egyptian. Even if we believe claims that infiltrators shot live ammunition at the protestors, how can the rushing of armoured trucks to run over demonstrators be explained? Did those anonymous infiltrators hijack the vehicles under the eyes and noses of the military?
The painful scenes of 9 October will be carved in Egyptian memory, Christian and Muslim alike, for ages. And the history of the January Revolution will register these scenes along with those of the black Friday. It is with bitterness that I note, however, that now, and only now, after the horrible bloodbath, did the ruling Supreme Council of the Armed Forces move to order Prime Minister Essam Sharaf to conduct an official investigation into the event. Now, and only now, did the Premier decide to issue the unified law for building places of worship—after he repeatedly reneged on his promise during the past four months. Now, and only now, did the Prime Minister decide to impose harsher penalties on crimes of discrimination. Regrettably, it seems that Egypt is fated to have officials who act affirmatively only in the wake of catastrophes that rock domestic and international consciences. Until this happens, they turn a blind eye to crises, no matter how alarming. By the same token, warnings that things might spin out of control usually fall on deaf ears.
Passing the unified law for building places of worship, harsher penalties for crimes of discrimination, arresting culprits of the Merinab crime and even dismissing Aswan governor will not absolve the State officials—high and low-ranking ones alike—who adhere to passivity and inaction in the face of major crises, and display leniency where there is need to defend the rule of law and the authority of the State. And their hands will remain stained with blood.