Sore Throats in Cairo

As many of you know, I just returned to Egypt after a two-year hiatus. Stepping off the plane into post-Mubarak Egypt, I didn’t really know what to expect. What is actually new about the New Egypt? And what remains the same?

Some things have not changed at all. The hospitality, the traffic, the noise, the heat, and the pollution all remain. Already, the all too-familiar smog-induced sore throat has returned.

But some things have changed entirely. I have immediately noticed the public sphere has become more vibrant and inclusive. Before the revolution, Egypt had a relatively free press compared to its neighbors. Red lines did exist and the regime did ensure it stood on the tallest soapboxes, but political dissent could be expressed and heard. The problem was that dissent was expressed and heard by a minority of Egyptians.

That seems to have changed in post-Mubarak Egypt. Some observers have pointed to the increased use of social media as evidence of a strengthening public sphere. For example, the Facebook page “We Are All Khaled Said” – which supported and helped organize the revolution – boasts almost 1.5 million members. Yet with only 8% of Egyptians relying upon Facebook and Twitter to gets news about the revolution, it’s easy to overestimate the influence of social media.

Meanwhile, the traditional media have opened up since January 25th. Independent newspapers like Al-Masry Al-Youm and television channels like On TV are increasingly popular and trusted. Even the government mouthpiece, Al-Ahram, has caught (an admittedly very mild) revolutionary fever. Yet the change in traditional media is more evolutionary, than revolutionary. Censorship and propaganda, though more subtle, is still present. Although the envelope has been pushed back, red lines still persist – as Hossam el-Hamalawy recently learned.

The biggest change, then, has come in the way Egyptians interact on the streets. Whether on the plane, in a café, or in a taxi – every Egyptian I meet is eager to talk politics with me, a largely taboo topic last time I lived here. They listen attentively to my garbled Arabic before jumping in passionately.

Of course, the more important conversations are happening between the Egyptians themselves. As I walked through Tahrir this morning, I eavesdropped on one of several conversation circles (some more closely resembled shouting and shoving matches) that fill the square. This particular discussion focused on police brutality.

That issue will play a central role in tomorrow’s likely-massive protests. Every single major political force – with the exception of the Salafists - has announced their participation. Unlike the May 27th protests, major disagreements have been put aside to instead focus on the issues all sides can agree upon. In the words of Alaa Aswaany, “We will ask for purging the current government of the remnants of the old regime. We will demand fair and speedy trials for the killers of our martyrs. We will demand that civilians not have to face military tribunals under any circumstances. We will go to the square on Friday ready to pay the price of freedom. We will be like we were during the revolution, ready to die at any moment.”

The problem for Egypt is that despite all the tweeting, broadcasting, publishing and talking, the remnants of Mubarak’s regime remain in power. Key ministries are still run by Mubarak lackeys. Police who killed protesters go unpunished while 10,000 Egyptians have been prosecuted in military courts since the revolution. Families still do not know the fate of their loved ones missing since January. The New Egypt looks too much like the old Egypt – and that is why Egyptians will descend upon Tahrir tomorrow.

It is not clear whether the protests will clear out tomorrow night or if another sit-in will begin. Nor is it clear how the improved public sphere – of which tomorrow’s protest will play a part – can gain the political traction necessary to enact real change.

Leaving Tahrir, I passed by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. A lone man, bullhorn in hand, stood outside shouting at the top of his lungs in an act of defiance impossible before the revolution. A few meters away, plain-clothed officers stood at their post absolutely indifferent to the ruckus nearby. At least for today, the man would achieve little more than yet another sore throat in Cairo.

Fathers Worth Emulating

Usually when you discuss fathers and their children in the Middle East, you think of the rulers. Hassan and Mohammed, Hussein and Abdullah, Hafez and Bashar, and the list goes on. Power seemingly passes from father to son naturally in the Middle East – at least, it did until the Arab Spring turned the region upside down. Thankfully, we will never know whether Gamal would have ruled like Hosni. And hopefully we will never know if Seif would have ruled like Muammar. For as the scenes coming out of Syria show, a son can be just as ruthless as his father.

It would seem odd, then, to dedicate this Father’s Day post to the power-hungry father-son duos that for too long have dominated the Middle East. Instead, I want to highlight a revolutionary family who have banded together to demand their freedom in a unified voice. Theirs is an example worth blogging.

Why We Believe in Amina Arraf

This past weekend, Syrian regime thugs purportedly kidnapped Amina Arraf who blogs at A Gay Girl in Damascus. I had been reading her blog for a few months and was quite upset at the news. Escaping a close call before, Amina refused to be silenced. And now she was in incredible danger.

Or, as it turns out, the truth may have been the one in danger. Since her alleged disappearance, serious questions have been raised about the blog's veracity. Amina may be a hoax.

I was tweeting about the whole situation when a producer for the BBC World Service's World Have Your Say asked me to come on the show. You can hear what I said here. I speak at 8:50 and at 19:00. My comments focus on why we want to hope for, and believe in, Amina.

I, like so many other of Amina's followers, want to believe in Amina. We hope that such a powerful voice for freedom is real. But in that hope, we also are effectively wishing that Amina is in incredible peril. I have been struggling to decide whether it's better to hope that a profound voice for liberty is in danger of being extinguished or that such a voice never existed at all.

There are many reasons why I might have been fooled by Amina, assuming she is in fact a hoax.My friend The Camel's Nose points to our limited ability to evaluate and process all the sources we encounter from Syria. As such, "our human brains took cognitive shortcuts to triage the fire hose of information coming at us." In addition, I have previously blogged about why social media seem particularly prone to misinformation.

But in this case, I think the problem is primarily neither one of cognition or transmission. Rather, it's one of emotion. We believed Amina's words because we wanted to believe them. We have witnessed such brutality in Syria, such ugliness, that we were bound to latch on to anything that offered beauty and hope. That is exactly what Amina did. We want to believe in Amina because she is something worth believing in.

But now we have reached a time for reckoning. We need to know the truth. Whether Amina is real or not, her story is certainly real. Over 1200 Syrians have died for the cause of freedom. Unknown more have been imprisoned and tortured. Each and every one deserve the attention Amina has garnered.

And that is why it would be so tragic if Amina turns out to be fake. So much time, energy, effort and emotion would have been wasted upon her as others languish and suffer. People outside Syria can only do so much to help, and currently that help is being directed primarily towards Amina.

If she is in fact a work of fiction, the time has come for her creator to fess up. His or her personal discomfort and embarrassment will be far outweighed by the good it will do for every Syrian currently locked in a struggle that is anything but a work of fiction.

But until such confirmation comes or definitive proof is discovered, we must assume Amina is real. As Andy Carvin worries, "this discussion about her identity could distract people from the possibility that should [sic] might be being brutalized in detention, and in dire need of support from friends and strangers alike."

UPDATE: Amina is in fact fake. I'm glad we now know the truth.

Think Before you Tweet

For class, I'm reading Walter Lippmann's Public Opinion, which examines how the irrational construction of social perception undermines democratic governance. The entire book is very thought provoking, but I'd like to focus on one line in particular for this post: 

For it is clear enough that under certain conditions men respond as powerfully to fictions as they do to realities, and that in many cases they help to create the very fictions to which they respond [...] Let him cast a stone who never passed on as the real inside truth what he had heard someone say who knew no more than he did.

I would say Lippmann wrote this with Twitter in mind but, considering Public Opinion was published in 1922, that would've required a time machine or a favor from Nostradamus. If Lippmann expressed such pessimism for traditional media, I can't imagine the levels of despondency he'd reach contemplating social media.

Take just two recent online myths that would've had Lippmann popping Prozac. After the Bin Laden raid, countless Internet users posted the Martin Luther King Junior quote: "I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy." Then, a blogger's assertion that the quote is fake began to proliferate just as rapidly. Except, as it turns out, the quote is not entirely made up. We went from posting, retracting, to amending a viral meme in a matter of 48 hours.

But not all internet myths are so harmless the misattribution of quotes to national heroes. A few weeks ago, the picture below began to make the rounds. It purportedly shows an Israeli Subaru ad in which a car runs over some Palestinian kids with the caption "We'll see who can stand against you." As Iran's Press TV explains with thinly-veiled satisfication, the ad "has drawn considerable outrage for its implied promotion of running over Palestinian kids."

Except the ad's fake. A company spokesperson said, "we strongly condemn these elements that are trying to harm the good name of the company.”  And the Palestinian Authority, which condemned the ad, admitted "it is not clear whether this is a genuine advertisement or whether someone is making use of the Subaru logo." The picture, however, is not fake. It shows a well-known incident last year in which an Israeli ran over Arab children in East Jerusalem.

Both of these online myths exemplify, in Lippmann's words, "our normal human habit of trying to squeeze into our stereotypes all that can be squeezed, and of casting into outer darkness that which does not fit." We believed the MLK quote because our mythologized MLK would have said something just like that. Anti-Zionists believed the Subaru ad because their demonized Israeli would have boasted about running over children just like the ad.

To overcome the shortfalls of public opinion, Lippmann urged a greater role for experts in informing the press and policy in democratic systems. The problem of social media is that every tweet or post is an implicit contention that people can rely on our expertise or ability to identify expertise. We users therefore need to take the responsibility to act as if we were experts. We must check our sources before we share them. More importantly, when we do make mistakes, it's not enough to just delete them. We have to share our mea culpas in the same way we share everything else. And most importantly, we must think before we tweet.

Taking such personal responsibility will go a long way in resisting the internet's inherent susceptibility to myth and echo chambers. It'll also let poor Lippmann rest a little easier.

Tragedy of the Revolutionary Commons

With so many breaking events across the Middle East, it's become increasingly hard to keep up, even for those like myself who consider it their job. Quite simply, my attention and time are limited resources, and I have to choose how to best allocate them. In the process, things fall through the cracks.

The international media face the same problem. Even with a 24 hour news cycle, they can only cover so much. There are simply not enough correspondents and foreign bureaus. Nor is there enough attention span amongst the public. They can only absorb so much information at once. Bandwidth is limited.

International resources are limited too. Our overworked staffers in DC can work only so many hours in a day. Our coffers can afford only so many economic packages. Our diplomats can host only so many meetings. While our military could enforce more no-fly zones, our political will can only stomach so much.

This problem reminds me of Garrett Hardin's article on "The Tragedy of the Commons." Writing about limited environmental resources, he describes the dilemma of cows grazing on common pastures. Every farmer has the individual incentive to graze his cows as much as possible. But if every farmer acts in such a self-interested way, all the combined cows will overgraze the pasture and the community will collectively suffer.

International attention to the Arab revolutions presents its own version of Hardin's tragedy. Citizens in every individual country have an incentive to protest now while the momentum is in democracy's favor and their leaders have lost their balance. But if every Arab population acts for their own interest, international media and resources can only focus on so much.

While international media and resources will not determine the outcome of these revolutions, they can undeniably shift the balance in democracy's favor by supporting efforts on the ground. Yet with every Arab country in revolt, attention is necessarily split, its effect on any given case diminished. Some countries may not get any attention at all.

What can be done then?

The traditional solution to Hardin's Tragedy of the Commons is privatization. If every farmer gets his own little parcel of pasture, then he will protect its sustainability out of self-interest. He will only graze as many cows as his land can support.

This is where the analogy to the Arab revolutions breaks down somewhat. We cannot actually "privatize" international attention to the Arab revolutions. But what Arabs can and have done is take the issue in their own hands. They have done so with social media and diaspora networks.

Social media "privatizes" international media by placing the production and dissemination of news in the hands of the people. If I had relied on the international media today, I would not have known about the protests in Jordan today. But thanks to Hafsa Halawa on Twitter, I know all about it.

Diaspora networks "privatize" international attention by providing an alternative source of economic, political, and technical support to the revolutions. For example, at a recent conference called "Together for a New Egypt," Egyptian-Americans joined together to discuss how they can contribute to the revolution in their homeland. The conference harnessed their resurgent pride in their home country and channeled it into productive avenues for action.

While these social media and diaspora efforts will not replace international media and resources, they can and will play an essential role in helping turn the Tragedy of the Revolutionary Commons into a historic victory only dictators will find tragic.

Twitter and the Egyptian Revolution

While the last post was a failed op ed submission, here's one that actually was published in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette! I argue that a lot of people have focused on the role of social media in the Egyptian revolution, but not enough attention has been given to how social media create transnational links between users. With so many serious people writing serious articles about Egypt, I took a more personal tone about my experiences following Egypt's democratic revolutionaries.

http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/11044/1124806-109.stm