‘Legitimacy comes from Tahrir!’ was an early chant from Egypt’s 2011 Arab Spring revolution, and it spoke directly to the figurative and literal centrality of the public space where the protesters congregated and collectivised - Cairo’s Tahrir Square. The title of Ahdaf Soueif’s book says it all: ‘Cairo: Memoir of a City Transformed’. The transformation is the young people of Cairo gathering together in a public space and becoming the ‘shabab’ (Arabic for youth). Unfortunately many also become the ‘shuhada’ or martyrs for the revolution. If you wanted to look at it dialectically you could see here the quantitative change (gathering of people) becoming large enough to be a qualitative change: the public has taken a public space and created its own liberated zone - the popular axis of the revolution.
Another chant, however, shows the second revolutionary axis - nationalism: ‘the people / the army / one hand’. Early on in the revolution, Soueif describes the widespread view that Egypt is not ‘Greece or Latin America’ i.e. the army is part of the fabric of society and therefore would not fire on ‘the people’. This view turned out to be over-optimistic, however it had some historical precedent as elements of the army did refuse orders to shoot demonstrators in the 1970s and 1980s. It is easy with hindsight to fault the shabab with an excessively rosy view of the military, I remember feeling nervous looking at the TV images of US supplied M1 Abrams tanks rolling down Cairo streets. However you can also credit the Tahrir protestors with the realistic recognition that all successful revolutions need, at the very least, the organs of state power to refuse to shoot the people (and ideally to break off and join them). The chant was an invitation, and as far as the Hosni Mubarak regime was concerned, the military reciprocated. They saw that dictatorship had no viable future - particularly if Mubarak’s son was installed over popular discontent. Of course, once the ‘Supreme Council of the Armed Forces’ (SCAF) becomes de facto president of Egypt - it becomes clear that the shabab and the military cannot be ‘one hand’ for very long.
Soueif has written a real time account of the revolution, taken from her notes and impressions of going to the square and living with the shabab. At its best, the book gives a vivid sense of what it is like to be in a ‘liberated zone’ as a tangible geographic space. Around the world at this time there were various attempts (e.g. Occupy Wall Street) to create these liberated spaces as a fresh foundation for the legitimacy of radical politics. It is a return to an earlier conception of revolution in which all revolts are, essentially, about land: where is your liberated space, who controls it, who has the resources? This idea is open to criticism in that it downplays intersections such as class, race, gender. Soueif mentions worker strikes, and the roles of women, in her account - however it is fair to say that her primary revolutionary ‘agent’ is the shabab: the youth. This is a category that dissolves all other distinctions for her - which on the one hand can make her descriptions of revolutionary processes (why did people gather, what gave them common cause) frustratingly vague. However there is still a key insight here that revolutions are inevitably a young person’s game.
The downside of Soueif’s real time writing approach, is that she jumps back and forth in her chronology - making it difficult to keep track of the timeline of the revolution. The overall tone is sentimental, valorising the shabab and the shuhada - but giving very little space to a prosaic analysis. Of course, that’s not really Soueif’s intention - she wants to create a strong sense of what it is like to be in a revolution. This book is best read in conjunction with a scholarly history of the Arab Spring - the results of which it is arguably still ’too soon to tell’.