SHERINE F.

HAMDY
Brown University and Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton
Strength and vulnerability after Egypts
Arab Spring uprisings
A B S T R A C T
Following the revolts that unseated Hosni Mubarak
in February 2011, a contradictory discourse has
emerged in which Egyptians imagine themselves to
be resilient in body and spirit but also enfeebled by
years of political corruption and state negligence.
During the mass protests in Cairos Tahrir Square, the
regimes orchestrated violence neither crushed the
movement nor provoked activists to abandon their
vow of peaceful protest. However, Egyptians pride
in the physical and moral resilience that enabled
this feat is infused with an understanding of its
fragility; many face vulnerabilities to disease within
the context of environmental toxins, malnutrition,
and a broken, overtaxed health care system. And
they mourn the deterioration of moral principles and
values after years of brutal oppression and social
injustice. These conicting viewsof vitality and
vulnerabilityhave led to a dizzying oscillation
between optimism and despair; even as people
celebrate the accomplishments of the uprisings,
they are also keenly aware of the formidable
challenges that lie ahead. [Egypt, revolution, Arab
Spring, political awakening, Mubarak, doctors]
I
n this piece, I reect briey on the ways in which apathy and si-
lence in Egypt have given way to conicting views on the vitality
and vulnerability of Egyptian bodies, on their moral strength amidst
widespread ethical bankruptcy, and on their resilience despite their
weariness. In the public square, in the neighborhoods, in work-
places, and in hospitals, people are asking, Has the revolution changed
anything? And an underlying question often raised is, Is there enough
moral integrity left, after the decades-long assault against basic humandig-
nity, to rebuild a socially just country? In May and June of 2011, people I
spoke with voiced a conicted desire to return to normal lifethat is, to
go back to work, to use public transportation, to walk in the streets with-
out fear, and to have an overall sense of security. Yet they simultaneously
dreaded the return to the previous political reality, in which resistance to
unjust andcorrupt rule was brutally represseda reality that fostereda dull
kind of fear that deadened voices of dissent. After following the protests
from afar and visiting Egypt afterward, I too began to oscillate dizzyingly
between the optimism of thinking that the countrys political establish-
ment could be changed and the pessimism of realizing its intransigence.
1
This disorienting back-and-forth has me joining my Egyptian cousins,
friends, and colleagues in asking, Did it actually happen? The 18 days
of protests at Tahrir Square that culminated in the unseating of
President Mubarak became memorialized quicker than their conse-
quences have been understood. Meanwhile, the slipping back into ordi-
nary lifeincluding by forces of the old regime, now claiming credit for
the protests they had earlier suppressedthreatens to prevent what is now
called the January 25 revolution from having much palpable effect at all.
I must have crossed Tahrir Square dozens of times in the rst few weeks of
my last visit, and I found it chilling to see only faint signs of the protests
remaining, like the charred surface of the National Partys headquarters,
which had been lit are, or the national statues quickly dulling again after
AMERICANETHNOLOGIST, Vol. 39, No. 1, pp. 4348, ISSN 0094-0496, online
ISSN 1548-1425. C
2012 by the American Anthropological Association. All rights reserved.
DOI: 10.1111/j.1548-1425.2011.01345.x
American Ethnologist

Volume 39 Number 1 February 2012
having been scrubbed clean by young activists in their tri-
umphal gesture to reclaim the square after Mubaraks resig-
nation (see Winegar 2011).
Otherwise, the square appeared to be back to normal.
During the days of the demonstrations, the streets were
eerily empty, with no uniformed policemen in sight. But
now, the trafc mayhem was as maddening as usual, and
trafc control ofcers were back on the streets. In the mid-
dle of Tahrir Square, my friends and I would ask ourselves:
Did hundreds of people actually get killed here only a few
months ago? Did over a million demonstrators really stand
their ground in this very place? Part of what makes the post-
Tahrir Egyptian scene almost surreal is how quickly signs
of the uprisings have become almost talismanic, gimmicky,
even while young political activists continue to be arbitrar-
ily arrested and sent for military trial. More visibly, peddlers
in downtown Cairo display their caps, T-shirts, ags, and
bumper stickers reading January 25 Revolutionary Youth,
marking an event that was hypermediatized from its very
inception. Montages of the most dramatic scenes of the
clashes between the regimes forces and the protesters are
played on television channels to the beat of revolutionary
songs. First, they had circulated through the unofcial me-
dia channels, on mobile phones and the Internetscenes
of the sole man raising his arms in the face of water can-
nons, the assault on the demonstrators whose heads were
bowed in prayer, young women and men falling to their
deaths from sniper bullets. And now these scenes are re-
played on major television stations, some of which had ear-
lier denied the seriousness of the events if not entirely fail-
ing to cover them. New satellite channels have emerged,
dedicating their evening slots fully to political analysis of
the January 25 uprisings and to what might come afterward.
When I turn off the television, things generally seem
the same as they were before the uprising. Yet the most pal-
pable difference is that utter apathyborn out of a sense
of overwhelming helplessness at the enormity of politi-
cal corruption and injusticehas been replaced by a tem-
pered optimism. The inspiring and multifaceted solidarity
that was forged and displayed in Tahrir Squareacross reli-
gious, class, and gender differenceshad lasting effects on
people, whether they were physically present in Tahrir or
not, nding its way from the square to homes, to neigh-
borhoods, to workplaces and hospitals. Middle-class pro-
fessionals in Cairo recounted to me how, before last spring,
they had never before bothered with politics or even asked
themselves what their own political views were. One doctor
in his fties, who works for part of the year in the Arab Gulf,
told me, [Before,] it didnt matter if I picked up a newspa-
per if it was current or two years old. It was all the same use-
less noninformation. Now, since the revolution, I cant go
to bed at night without having read every single news item
to do with politics in the country. And international politics
and how it affects us. Now I am hooked.
A sales manager, in her forties, who worked in an in-
ternational company based in Cairo, reiterated the view
of many that the demonstrations had sparked a political
awakening and an identication with Egypt that people had
never felt before. She told me,
I didnt even know that I loved Egypt. Until I saw our
country in amesand why? It wasnt that a foreign
country had come to invade or occupy itNo! Our own
leaders were doing this to our own people! To kill and
torture our youth just because they were asking for
freedom?! This was too much! I found myself going to
the square . . . I found that I love Egypt and I couldnt
stand for this to happen to her. And when it was over
and we all went back to work, all of a sudden we be-
gan to talk. Weve known each other for years, and no
one knew what the other thought, or what type of po-
litical views the other had. Maybe we ourselves didnt
know our own views until this all happened. No one
had ever talked politics before. And now it is all we talk
about! We stay up late to watch the political television
shows and the next morning we discuss, we debate, we
dont all agree. It is amazing! You know, it is like each of
us knew something bad or had experienced something
bad about the regimebut when we all got together,
we put together what we all knew and had experienced
and it all came outwe realized the enormity of what
they had stolen fromus, what they had done to us. May
God hold them all accountable!
During the days of the popular uprisings, not every-
one could get to the square, even those who most wanted
to. One 27-year-old who worked as a customer service rep-
resentative in Maadi, a suburb south of Cairo, told me
that his greatest regret in life was that he was not there
in the square in the days the violence was at its highest.
As the only son in his home, he kept vigil in his familys
Figure 1. Antigovernment protesters demonstrate near riot police at
Tahrir Square in downtown Cairo; photo by Amr Dalsh, Reuters, reprinted
with permission.
44
Strength and vulnerability after Mubarak

American Ethnologist
apartment building, chasing away looters in the night with
the neighborhood council he helped to form. The forma-
tion of such groups marked the rst time in their lives
that many Egyptians met their neighbors living in adja-
cent apartment buildings. It was certainly the rst time that
many identied so completely with fellow Egyptians across
class barriersheart surgeons and kiosk owners, vegetable
street sellers and computer technicians, together they kept
vigil throughout the night. They gathered in the streets in
front of their buildings with kitchen knives and whatever
sticks they could nd to protect themselves. The regime and
its supporters hadsought to strike fear inthose who thought
they could live without it by releasing prisoners who had
been convicted of violent crimes and had little if any aware-
ness of the sociopolitical scene and by giving them spe-
cic orders to carry out violent acts. The neighborhood
mosques muezzin spoke through loudspeakers each time a
suspicious van entered the neighborhood, sometimes jam-
packed with would-be looters: Protect Your Families and
Homes! No one slept those nights. The uncertainty was
terrifying. But the solidarity forged was unmistakably real.
In hospital emergency rooms, I spoke with young
physicians who worked nonstop with the victims of the
regimes violence. The day of the most serious and fatal in-
juries was January 28, the Friday of Anger. One young pedi-
atric surgeon I spoke with had worked a 48-hour shift, be-
cause his hospital, Damerdash Hospital in Ain Shams, was
severely understaffed after female doctors and nurses were
told to stay at home because the streets were dangerous,
lled with kidnappers and rapists. This rumor turned out to
be untrue, as did the rumors that thieves had ransacked and
overtaken the emergency rooms in the hospitals. The ru-
mors effectively impeded medical treatment of the injured
and instilled panic. As the young pediatric surgeon told me,
In reality, the hospital ER was so lled with family mem-
bers guarding the place, it was safer for me to be there than
to try and go home. This particular physician saw his work
as a surgeon interrupted by the popular unresthe told me
that he just wanted to do his work in a functioning medical
system. He stressed that he was more helpful to the cause
by staying in the ER and not going to the square and that he
was neither interested in nor capable of guring out how to
make the sociopolitical landscape better.
But others did not share this view. They felt that their
experiences as doctors at Damerdash and Kasr el Aini, the
two largest public teaching hospitals in Cairo, had enabled
them to witness the depths of Egyptians suffering better
than those in any other profession. Born out of the will to
protect the aims of the revolts, a group of young doctors
at Kasr el Aini, the major hospital close to Tahrir, formed
a group called No Patients Treatment at Kasr el Aini Will
Be Postponed. The group obtained permission from the
hospital to keep operating rooms open on Fridays and in
Figure 2. A medic has a snack at a makeshift clinic in the opposi-
tion stronghold of Tahrir Square, in Cairo; photo by Steve Crisp, Reuters,
reprinted with permission.
the evenings to set up volunteer shifts to tend to those who
had been on treatment waiting lists for far too long. Before
the revolts, the lack of guaranteed treatment for the poor
(their fate euphemistically described as postponed) was
too easily normalized as an unfortunate fact. Now, though
an admittedly small step in the face of the countrys over-
whelming medical and health needs, the young physicians
called for the public teaching hospitals to reassess their
responsibilities in caring for the poor.
Another doctor who was a proud volunteer in this
movement told me that during the rst 18 days in Tahrir
Square, she had never dreamed of seeing the highest of
ideals enacted in her own country. Whereas Tahrir Square,
a busy intersection in downtown Cairo, had for years
earned a reputation among Cairenes and tourists as a place
where women were consistently exposed to sexual harass-
ment, during the days of protests, women were at the
forefront alongside male demonstrators, owning and for-
ever resignifying the space. As the young physician-activist
told me,
During the rst millioniyya [million-strong gathering],
it was so crowdedwhen we were trying to get in,
someone called out, There are girls trying to come in!
No one push! And just then, the men formed two walls
with their bodies, lining up and opening up a path-
way so that we could pass through the crowd. No one
had anything but deep respect and admiration for one
other, because we had all left our homes to be there.
Of course, my parents tried to prevent us from going,
but my sister and I told them, We are no better than
the martyrs who lost their lives, and this is our coun-
try and our future! Not only did they not stop us, they
later joined us there. The most ordinary of people were
passing out what little food and water they had to the
crowd. There was no difference between Muslim and
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Volume 39 Number 1 February 2012
Figure 3. Doctors and nurses chant antigovernment slogans during mass
demonstrations inside Tahrir Square in Cairo; photo by Dylan Martinez,
Reuters, reprinted with permission.
Christian, like what we are hearing now. It was the hap-
piest, happiest days of my life. I never dreamed that
Id see such high ideals and morals in my own country,
so much respect that men showed toward us, everyone
helping one another.
The narrative of complete harmony between Muslim and
Christian, man and woman, in the initial days of resistance
at Tahrir was one I heard again and again, a narrative that,
in its hyperbole, belies the delicacy of and surprise at the
degree of national solidarity that was sensed and practiced
by the demonstrators.
We really did have it in us, people were amazed to dis-
cover. When the violence was at its highest, the protesters
were not deterred; more only came out of their homes in
solidarity. Neither did the regimes forces succeed in pro-
voking the protesters to return the violence. The amaze-
ment of what could be accomplished was coupled with
sorrow that the regime had brutally repressed this great
repository of strength and willpower that might otherwise
have brought the country forward. During those 18 days of
protests at Tahrir Square, the solidarity and potential for
strength issued forth feelings of euphoria and pride that
people did not know they had in them.
Even those who were brutally attacked and injured de-
scribed the moment of solidarity and unbreakable will dur-
ing those 18 days as the happiest of their lives. Randa Sami,
a nurse who was at the forefront of the protest movement,
set up a clinic in Tahrir that attended to the wounded, and
it was there that she was brutally beaten by a member of
the regimes security forces. She remains today partially par-
alyzed and wheelchair bound. I attended an open session
on June 2 in Cairo for those interested in rebuilding Egypts
health care system after Mubaraks removal. It was held at
the private medical clinic of a liver surgeon who was also
a social activist. When Randa Samis son carried her in her
wheelchair down the few steps to the clinic, those attend-
ing the session stood in applause at her entrance. She re-
counted her story, ending by stating her pride in standing
with her fellowEgyptians and urging the doctors to do what
they could to help the other injured patients with whom
she had stayed in the hospital and who were in much worse
shape than she was.
2
If the resolve, spirit, and strength of the protesters
seemed unbreakable during those rst 18 days, they all
stood for a commoncause, the end of the regime. Nowthe
aimssocial justice, social equity, the end to corruption
are not as clear, and even less apparent is how to achieve
them. The solidarity across classes all too easily collapses
back into old social hierarchies that blame the poor for
not having the same outlets as those who are better off
and more entitled to voice their demands. Whereas middle-
class professionals can respectably meet to discuss judi-
ciary or legal reform, they criticize the poor for demanding
everything all at once. I repeatedly heard the phrase mish
waqtuh! meaning Its not the time! or First things rst!
voiced by those in the middle class when people in poor
neighborhoods staged demonstrations to demand hous-
ing or when members of poor neighborhoods stalled com-
muter trains to protest the dumping of industrial pol-
lutants or the building of cell phone towers near their
schools.
Drawing on the well-known teachings of the Prophet
Muhammad, which discourage extreme self-denial, many
middle-class activists acknowledged that people need ba-
sic material comforts to ourish morally and spiritually and
that the reverse must also be true: that the deprivation of
basic rights (to clean water, to clean air, to housing) leads to
the erosion of social ideals. As one young physician told me,
Mubaraks biggest crime was not the billions that he stole.
It was not even the millions of lives that he ruined, or the
health of the Egyptians that was damaged from all the can-
cerous food that he imported, or from the poverty that he
subjected people to in the squatter neighborhoods.
3
It was
robbing us of our ideals, our morals. This was his biggest
crime. The idealism and euphoria in Tahrir Square gen-
erated an image, for this young doctor, of what Egyptians
could be. But outside of that circumscribed space and time,
she was awakened to the depths of desperation and despair
of the large numbers of Egyptians who, having been de-
prived of basic human dignity and respect, may not have
the same moral repository from which to act. If the days
of Tahrir Square summoned Egyptians to enact their high-
est idealspatience, steadfastness, wit, humor, solidarity,
generosity, peacefulnessthe pressures against them still
threaten to rob them of these ideals.
46
Strength and vulnerability after Mubarak

American Ethnologist
A vertiginous back-and-forth in my conversations with
peoplebetween the lowest of despair and the highest of
optimismrevealed the ways that many are making sense
of the uprisings and aftermath as the beginning of a long
journey whose endpoint is still uncertain. The solidarity
that was forged was awe inspiring, if also fragile. Egyptians
described themselves as resilient and at the same time as
worn down from years of abuse and neglect. Even if they
were amazed by the moral superiority enacted in those days
at Tahrir, they feared that the large-scale destruction of hu-
man health, vitality, and the social fabric that sustains such
morality would be insurmountable. Those who celebrated
their victory know all too well that much has not changed.
The regime is still in power, justice has not been served,
the thieves have not been tried, the money stolen has not
been returned, and those who murdered the demonstrators
have yet to be held accountable. The general now in power,
ush with billions of dollars in foreign aid and access to a
signicant unpaid labor force, has further accelerated mili-
tary control over Egypts economic sector and sociopolitical
scene, a situation that has not been lost on Egypts revolu-
tionary youth. But a beginning has been forgedfear and
silence have been broken, and ordinary citizens are nowac-
tively redening what it is to be Egyptian.
4
Notes
Acknowledgments. The author gratefully acknowledges the
Wolfensen Foundation at the Institute for Advanced Study at
Princeton.
1. This essay is based on informal interviews I conducted with
doctors and other middle-class professionals in Cairo in May and
June of 2011. I was born in the United States to Egyptian parents,
and my rst ethnographic research experience in Egypt, in the
summer of 1995, was as an undergraduate interested in womens
health. During that research, I interviewed 50 childless women
and observed ve different obstetric and gynecological facilities in
Cairo and Tanta as well as a home for the elderly in Tanta, most
of whose women residents were childless and infertile. I also spent
the summers of 1999, 2000, and 2001 in Egypt, where I committed
myself to intensive language study and studying archival materials
on children born with intersexed conditions. In summer 1999, I in-
terviewed the rst publicized transsexual in Cairo and her surgeon.
In 200102, I spent 12 months in Egypt as a fellow at the Center
for Arabic Study Abroad, and I stayed on for further eldwork from
September 2002 to April 2003 and MayJune 2004, during which
time I interviewed patients, their family members, physicians, and
Islamic scholars to understand the workings of medical and reli-
gious authority in Egypt, focusing on the national debate around
organtransplantation. I returnedto Egypt for follow-upresearchon
this same project in December 2007January 2008, for public pre-
sentations of this work in June 2009, and for completion of a book
project in JuneAugust 2010 (see Hamdy in press).
2. On July 18, 2011, Dr. Amr Helmy, the liver surgeon who held
the public health meeting described here, was appointed minis-
ter of health as part of the cabinet reshufe to meet the protesters
renewed demands. His rst public statement was that the min-
istry would cover the health care costs of all those injured in the
revolution.
3. Egyptians frustrations with poor water quality, contami-
nated food, and deteriorating public health care services are given
fuller treatment in Hamdy 2008.
4. Key scholarly works on Egypt that have informed my
thinking on the topics I address in this commentary include the
following: Abu-Lughod 2005, Asad 2003, El-Meheiry 1984,
Hirschkind 2006, Hoodfar 1996, Hopkins et al. 2001, Inhorn
1994, Mahmood 2005, Mitchell 2002, Morsy 1988, Salvatore 1997,
Sholkamy and Ghannam 2004, Starrett 1998, Tabishat 2000,
Wickham 2002, and Winegar 2006.
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Sherine F. Hamdy
Department of Anthropology
Brown University
Providence, RI 02906
Institute for Advanced Study
Princeton, NJ 08540
sherine hamdy@brown.edu
48