The High Price of Free Speech
Soon after his release from prison in February 2002, internationally recognized Egyptian scholar Saad Eddin Ibrahim told Amnesty International Magazine about the risks of speaking out and the dangers of keeping silent. He was reimprisoned in July 2002, following another trial that fell short of international standards.
By Paul Schemm
CAIRO — On the eve of activist Saad Eddin Ibrahim's release from prison after serving ten months of his sentence, three men paid him a visit. They politely wished Ibrahim well in his new life, suggested he turn over a new leaf, and said they hoped they wouldn't have to see him back any time soon.
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© Issandr El Amrani |
"The hints were there, sometimes subtle, sometimes not so subtle," recalls Ibrahim almost two weeks after his February 7 release. After several delays, Egypt's highest appellate court finally heard his appeal and ordered a retrial, overturning his sentence of seven years of hard labor for defaming Egypt's image abroad, accepting unauthorized funding, and embezzling funds.
For now, Ibrahim's prison nightmare is over, but he faces the decision of whether to resume his earlier outspoken activities or adopt a lower profile. According to Ibrahim, it's not just security forces that are making the hints. Concerned by an alarming downturn in Ibrahim's health, his family and friends are urging him to take it easy and not further antagonize the authorities. They point out that the authorities "have shown a great ability to fabricate things and can do it again."
In fact, this is precisely what happened back in 2000. After Ibrahim's initial arrest and 45-day detention, he was released without charges. Soon thereafter, against the advice of his lawyer who told him to lie low for a time, the prominent academic announced that he would set up a system for election monitoring with his students for the upcoming parliamentary elections. The government responded to Ibrahim's plans by resurrecting the case against him and filing formal charges.
"I didn't listen because not to talk, and not to write, and not to speak, really amounts to a death for an intellectual or an activist. and that has been the argument all along between people who care for my personal safety and personal welfare and my feeling that I have a mission," explained Ibrahim, a sociology professor at the American University in Cairo and the head of the Ibn Khaldun Center for Developmental Studies.
His sense of mission is heightened because he feels needed, he says. While he was in prison, the situation for civil society in Egypt grew only more grim. Fewer and fewer voices are willing to speak out as the government disbands organizations and packs people off to prison. For better or worse, Ibrahim remains one of the highest profile figures advocating democracy and the rule of law who is willing to speak out. "The fewer [voices] there are maximizes my feeling of moral obligation," he said.
NOW, NO ONE SEEMS SAFE
Ibrahim's real offense was to write and publicize critical studies of Egypt that ignored the official version of events. "I am always offering alternative explanations for everything that they do: on the Copts, on human rights, on elections," he said.
Aside from his groundbreaking studies in the 1970s and 1980s on the social roots of Islamic fundamentalism, he organized a controversial conference on minorities in the Arab world. At the 1994 gathering he called Coptic Christians, who make up 10 percent of the Egyptian population, a minority. The government, which would rather paper over potential societal fault lines, explicitly rejects this thesis, asserting instead that Egyptian society is homogenous and Copts form an indistinguishable part of it.
A year later, together with many other activists, he monitored the 1995 elections, widely regarded as rigged and the most corrupt in Egypt's modern history.
In the past few years Egypt has seen a steady reduction of political space and increased repression of civil society. According to various theories about the case, Ibrahim had numerous enemies in the security services that were finally able to convince the administration that he was a threat. "They have their version of events in which everything would be perfect if it wasn't for foreign intervention or terrorist extremists," he said. "The feeling was that the law was no longer a law, but just a means of settling scores and just vindictiveness."
The final straw was likely an interview in which Ibrahim commented on the tendency for modern Arab republics to engage in dynastic-style succession.
Ibrahim's arrest and subsequent conviction came as a shock to the human rights and intellectual community, not just because of the chilling effect of the arrest but also because of his stature and connections. Ibrahim was no stranger to the corridors of power. He was on close terms with several of Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak's advisors, had supervised First Lady Suzanne Mubarak's Master's degree in the mid-1970s, and — until his arrest — was writing speeches for her.
Ironically, the main charge against Ibrahim — tarnishing Egypt's image abroad with his research — was amply achieved by the government with his trial and conviction. Ibrahim is certain that the worldwide publicity his case received and persistent inquiries by people and governments around the world kept him from becoming a forgotten statistic in prison. "I think the attention of course helped our case, no doubt about it, especially in a country where the intelligentsia is completely intimidated," he said. "International attention and concern have become imperative."
RELUCTANT FIELD STUDIES
In prison Ibrahim met convicts from several high profile trials of the last few years, including businessmen, politicians, and the gays from the Queen Boat trial, as well as Islamists who have been incarcerated for at least a quarter century. Just while he was there, the prison's population increased by 20 percent.
He recognizes, however, that his prison was not nearly as bad as most in Egypt and is considered the "five star" jail for important convicts. Still it was not all comfortable and he experienced a series of minor strokes in jail brought on, his doctor believes, by stress. He now walks with difficulty and has trouble holding a glass.
Sitting back on the couch in his spacious apartment in a leafy suburb of Cairo, Ibrahim recalls all the figures he met in jail and how many asked him to direct the international media spotlight on their cases.
He smiles sadly as he describes his experience in prison as "constructive." As a sociologist, he had an opportunity, he says, to observe people from different political trends and walks of life work together and try to ameliorate a bad situation.
Now he is out and considering going abroad for medical treatment. After that, he is unsure how to fit himself back into an Egyptian environment that is growing increasingly hostile to independent analysis.
"I'm still trying to figure out what is the best course to take for the next phase of my life, so in a way, there is a pause, rest, and lots of reflection." 
