Thursday, July 4, 2013

For Egypt’s Islamists, Confusion and Fear Amid Celebration

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Over speakers, the news came Wednesday and some people fainted. An hour later it had settled in, and President Mohamed Morsi’s supporters sat dazed on sidewalks or walked home, glassy-eyed. 
As he left the sit-in in front of Cairo University, Khaled Mohamed found himself suddenly, and painfully, facing Egypt’s new reality. In front of him were soldiers, and beyond them, people who seemed to revel in his misfortune. They celebrated Mr. Morsi’s fall and the dramatic eclipse of Mr. Mohamed’s 80-year-old organization, the Muslim Brotherhood
He did not know whether the soldiers were there to protect him and his fellow Islamists, or to watch them. Worse, he was once again out of place in his own country, a condition that the last revolution supposedly cured. 
“I’m scared,” Mr. Mohamed said. “I feel oppressed.”
As much of Cairo exploded in euphoria on Wednesday, parts of the city fell silent where Mr. Morsi’s loyalists had protested desperately for days, to stave off what they saw as a threat to democracy and the legitimacy of Egypt’s first free presidential election. Their disappointment on Wednesday was a symptom of a nation still far from healed. In their anger was a warning, of unsettled days ahead. 
Mr. Mohamed said the Brotherhood’s members still had not received instructions about what to do next. Many of his comrades said they would maintain a peaceful resistance. Others could not contain their rage.
“There will be a civil war,” said Abdullah Mohamed al-Sayed, a teacher. “A grinding civil war.”
The day began in anger. During overnight clashes near the sit-in at the university, at least 18 people were killed, part of a wave of violence in the days before June 30, when Mr. Morsi’s opponents rallied around the country demanding that he leave power. Blood stained the sidewalk in front of the university, and formed patches on the shirt of Sherif Fouad, a lawyer.
Birdshot had left a hole on his forehead. Now, he and his friends awaited a decision from the military on the future of the country.
None of the signs had been good. For days, the army had seemed to flirt with Mr. Morsi’s opponents, dropping flags on their protests from helicopters. “Aren’t we from the Egyptian people?” Mr. Fouad asked. “Why is our voice not heard?”
In a tent nearby, a man who called himself Abu Mohamed said any coup would have consequences, hinting at the danger facing Egypt as Islamists saw their political gains thwarted, and some considered violence to regain their rights.
“There will be a strong reaction,” Abu Mohamed said, as he ate his breakfast and his friends warned against speaking too frankly. “It is either the ballot box, or the bullet box.”
There was even greater unease across town, at another protest by Mr. Morsi’s supporters, a few hours before the Wednesday deadline the army had given to Egypt’s political forces to resolve their differences. People spoke of a conspiracy to strip Egyptians of their power, ignoring the millions of other Egyptians who had marched in recent days, fed up with who they saw as a hapless president.
At the protest, the army was the villain, for daring to challenge not just the president, but Egypt’s new civilian authority. Half an hour later, when the army descended, the balance of power between Egypt’s two most powerful forces, the military and the Islamists, was tested.
The confrontation was awkward and explosive. Protesters met the armored vehicles as they arrived, and shoved the commanding officer who had drawn his pistol. Soldiers fired their weapons in the air. A protester lifted his shirt, daring soldiers to shoot.
Then it calmed, as some protesters, desperate for an ally, tried to bring the soldiers to their side. “Take care of Egypt!” one man said. Some of the soldiers were distracted by the pleas, and seemed torn. Then the commander spoke, saying the army was there to protect the protest.
“I will not fire,” he said. “I don’t want to go to hell.”
By 10 p.m., soldiers had surrounded the entrance to Cairo University, where the despondent included Ahmed Ali Ismail, who did not belong to any party and saw hope even in Egypt’s flawed new politics. He had voted for Mr. Morsi because of the powerful movement behind him: he thought it might shake up Egypt’s ossified institutions, and would help the country “get rid of the military.” 


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