Egypt’s Revolutionary Narrative Breaks Down

CAIRO — On the first anniversary of Egypt's revolution, the Semiramis InterContinental, a five-star luxury hotel overlooking Cairo's central Tahrir Square, offered an espresso-stained postcard of the deep political and social divides that have emerged since Hosni Mubarak's downfall.

As hundreds of thousands Egyptians converged on the square on Jan. 25, the hotel's café became the locus for discordant symposiums among Egyptians of diverse political and social backgrounds. Protesters, clad with stickers and signs that urged Egyptians to press forward with the revolution, shuffled in for a coffee (and, for some, an alcohol) break. In another part of the café, Egyptian businessmen discussed the construction of new resort hotels on Egypt's glimmering Red Sea with their colleagues from the Gulf. Still, others sought refuge from what one 38-year-old Egyptian restaurant owner described as "the never-ending noise of the revolution."

On that last point, at least, the patrons would get their wish. The noisy chants of "Invalid!" (a reference to the sustained de facto leadership of the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) over the country) and "Freedom!" were eventually drowned out by the iconic, moody tunes of famous Egyptian singer Umm Kulthum.

But not even Umm Kulthum could sing over the urgent political questions of the day. In the back of the café, workers watched footage of the packed square on a miniature television propped against the hotel's boarded windows, fretting over "when the clashes will start." One poked fun of all the "beards" (Islamists) present. Another lamented that things were better under Mubarak, only to be promptly reproached by his colleagues. Saad Eddin Ibrahim, a famous pro-democracy activist who was sentenced to seven years of prison under Mubarak, sat at the head of one table with a gaggle of people, discussing the foggy state of affairs. "Don't ask me what will happen next," he said. "I don't know."

With some protesters establishing a new tent camp in Tahrir Square and another demonstration planned for Jan. 27, nobody does. While much of the coverage has painted the day as a competition between Islamist movements, which wanted to celebrate the revolution's accomplishments, and liberal groups, which protested the continued absence of civilian rule, Egypt consistently frustrates such easy narratives. The revolution has scrambled traditional allegiances, leaving Egyptians struggling to figure out what they stand for -- and all equally confounded at what comes next.

If any group feels assured, it is the Muslim Brotherhood, which won just under half of the seats in the recent parliamentary elections and endorsed the military's timetable for a handover to an elected president by the end of June.

The Brotherhood sent thousands of its members to Tahrir on Jan. 25 to ensure, the group said, that a spirit of "celebration" prevailed -- a concept that has incensed some Egyptians, who feel that a virtual military coup has taken them back to square one. For these discontented activists, Jan. 25 was a day to push the revolution's demands forward.

Sondos Assem, 24, a young Muslim Brotherhood activist, glided into the hotel's café in sunglasses and a trenchcoat, armed with her omnipresent smartphone. Just a few months ago, Assem didn't want her real name published in a Foreign Policy article -- but now, the Brotherhood's electoral success seems to have given her a boost of confidence. She has emerged as an unofficial spokesperson of sorts, helping to run the Brotherhood's English-language Twitter feed, @Ikhwanweb. She's visibly exasperated from meetings and interview requests, and said she just had a fight with a close friend, a "hardcore revolutionary" who heavily criticized the Brotherhood for "selling the blood of martyrs to politics."

"How can people say that?" she asked, almost shaking with anger. The Brotherhood continues to push for the demands of the revolution, she argued, and wouldn't necessarily oppose early presidential elections. "We're not in the square to celebrate ... We won't celebrate until the military leaves, but we can't just depend on protests. We have to the build the country and we're doing that through parliament."

One senior Muslim Brotherhood member, who said that he cannot give his name because he hasn't been "authorized to talk to the public," argued that the Brotherhood's presence in the square was a method of "flexing their muscles" before Egypt's military rulers. "Our masses commemorating the day can easily turn the other direction if demands of handing full power over to civilian parliament, or swift trial of former regime figures, isn't met," he explained. "We're sending authorities a reminder."

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