In the days before the uprising of January 2011, skirmishes between soccer fans and Egyptian police were fairly common. Matches often offered a safety valve of sorts, where even politicized cheers cursing the government could be heard at moments of frustration. Yet such skirmishes also followed an unstated set of rules that limited overzealous policing to bumps, bruises and minor injuries. Today, however, the police truncheon has been set aside in favor of more draconian tactics. And the results are clear to all.
Though the exact circumstances are contested, survivors’ narratives suggest that riot police evinced a callous disregard for public safety, reportedly firing tear gas and birdshot from close proximity at the thronging crowds, who were already confined to a narrow, barbed-wire passage into the stadium. That caused a predictable and catastrophic stampede, resulting in at least 25 deaths.
Far from unique, this disaster points to a long-standing and deeply rooted problem. With the momentum of the January 2011 uprising now gone, it will be even more difficult to reform the police, curtail violence and torture, and hold officers accountable for past and ongoing abuses. But any long-term stability in Egypt, let alone the possibility of establishing an open society and a democratic culture, depends on it.
In the immediate aftermath of Mubarak’s fall, the impetus for police reform was lost for a variety of reasons. First and foremost, a reactionary and cautious military, which held formal governmental authority and was setting the post-Mubarak agenda, sought to rehabilitate a police force that it would rely upon to re-impose stability and normalcy. Reform was simply not a priority, particularly as the military feared both the vacuum left behind by the retreating police and the coercive retaliatory power residing within the Ministry of Interior. It should also be noted that much of the disorder and criminality that flourished during the immediate post-Mubarak transition period was a result of Ministry of Interior inaction, widely understood as part of an internal power play through which the police leadership won promises that they would not be held accountable for past abuses.
Second, the purported reform agenda of the then-ascendant Muslim Brotherhood largely evaporated as its pursuit of power became the ultimate priority and the repressive apparatus of the state became a tool to control. Even the Brotherhood’s rhetorical commitment to police reform collapsed as its electoral fortunes translated into power. Within the non-Islamist camp, reformists were a distinct minority, crippled by poor organization and a lack of broader societal traction.
Meanwhile, as security sector reform was being debated, the instability and unpredictability of the post-Mubarak years were creating an acute sense of dislocation and anxiety within Egyptian society. The air of permissiveness that reigned following the uprising allowed for a flowering of thought and creativity, but it also created an environment in which criminality and lawlessness thrived, whether in daily life or more problematic areas, such as the Sinai Peninsula, where militancy gained a firmer and broader foothold.
Furthermore, perceptions of insecurity outstripped the deteriorating reality. This is not to minimize those perceptions, as the social fabric of the country was fraying: Mobilization was increasingly substituted for politics; violence was becoming mainstream; and the pace of sectarian conflict was escalating. That climate produced a series of incidents of state violence against protesters, a spate of carjackings and illegal checkpoints, and a proliferation of attacks against Christians and their churches. The Brotherhood-led government of then-President Mohammed Morsi was unable either to tame the undisciplined and violent police or to reinstate normalcy through repression. Emblematic of that chaotic juncture was the daylight lynching and murder of four Shiites in a village outside Cairo, as an indifferent police force stood by.
For many Egyptians, it seemed as if their society was spinning out of control and coming apart at the seams. The 2013 coup that ousted Morsi ushered in a reactionary period when a stability-starved public sought out normalcy by any means possible. That bred an indifference to state violence cultivated by the incessant propaganda of state media and pro-government outlets. Under President Abdel-Fattah el-Sissi, mass mobilization and dissent came to be seen by broad swathes of society as reckless and a threat to the stability of the state. In such a climate, repression has flourished.
Public backing of harsh police tactics has remained constant as regional violence has accelerated and as terrorism has become an ever-increasing staple of Egyptians’ daily lives. For the police and the backers of el-Sissi’s regime, the current moment is about restoring the dignity and authority of the state and re-establishing stability, which is understood above all as a necessary precursor to the eventual return of economic growth and the last bulwark against the kind of chaos and unmitigated violence on display in Syria, Iraq and Libya.
For the police in particular, the post-coup environment was also an opportunity to restore the honor of a disgraced Egyptian institution and exact revenge against those who had challenged its authority. Needless to say, this has produced a reckless attitude and approach to state violence, further fueled by the lack of accountability for police transgressions, especially when directed at the Muslim Brotherhood-led opposition.
The outcries over the more recent instances of police violence—including the stadium deaths and the killing in broad daylight of an obviously unarmed non-Islamist protester, Shaimaa el-Sabbagh, in downtown Cairo the day before the uprising’s anniversary—have at least forced the government to acknowledge the possibility of excess. Reports emerged that prosecutors had identified and planned to arrest el-Sabbagh’s killer.
Yet the same day, Egypt’s prime minister called the soccer clashes a “conspiracy” to destabilize the country. That kind of familiar official discourse helps keep mainstream criticism of the police muted. As a result, this moment might produce at most a handful of scapegoats to quiet the potential for rare criticism from regime supporters. But with incitement to violence from more militant opponents of the state growing, and amid a persistent fear of terrorism, the latest deaths at the hand of Egypt’s police will not produce the reform of its ranks that is so desperately needed.
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Michael Wahid Hanna is a senior fellow and program officer covering international affairs at the Century Foundation. http://www.worldpoliticsreview.com/articles/print/15059