Getting rid of the head of state is one thing, standing up to the head of your family quite anotherby Shereen El Feki / February 23, 2011 / Leave a comment
Published in March 2011 issue of Prospect Magazine
On 1st February, the day of the first “million-man protest” in Tahrir Square, I caught up with two of my student friends. Yasmine was fired up from her turn at the barricades: “I cannot imagine how an 82-year-old man can say he is still president. We need fresh blood.” Abdel Rahman, on the other hand, had stayed at home in solidarity with the regime. “If he [Mubarak] leaves, it will be a disaster. He is [like] my grandfather, we cannot say ‘go’ to him.” In his final address, Mubarak played on this filial chord: “I am addressing you all from the heart, a father’s dialogue with his sons and daughters.” Most of the kids, however, had long since tuned out.
To those familiar with Egypt, the youth-led rebellion was inevitable but also inconceivable. In 2009, I helped craft a survey that asked 15,000 ten-to-29 year olds across the country about their lives. The results were sobering: youth unemployment was around 20 per cent, more than 40 per cent thought their education left them ill-prepared for the workplace, and more than a quarter of young men were looking to migrate. The desire for change was there, but the prevailing mood was one of apathy. Fewer than 15 per cent of eligible youth were registered to vote, less than half talked about politics and scarcely 5 per cent participated in any sort of organised activity. Most young people, it seemed, had unplugged from their country—which is why what came next is so astonishing.