By Mohamed El Dahshan
74
people dead.
It
doesn't add up. Port Said's Masry soccer team won 3-1 against its long-time
rival Ahly. In Port Said. It was a tough victory, one that Masry won with the
support of its fans. The logical question would be, then, "Why would the
Masry fans attack the minority of Ahly fans among them?"
From
there on, the questions just don't stop. "Why did neither the governor of
Port Said nor its security chief attend a game they both normally attend?"
asked parliamentarian Mohamed Abou Hamed on live television earlier tonight.
"Why were security forces barely present despite knowing that the long
rivalry between the two teams had a potential for violence?"
It's
true that the team rivalry is old, and that the most dedicated fans -- the
Ultras, as they are known in Egypt -- don't shy from confrontation. Years ago,
for instance, Ahly fans once broke into the Masry club and stole some of their
trophies.
I
say all this because many of the first media reports ended with a variation of
the statement "soccer in Egypt has a high potential of violence."
Only it doesn't. There has been the occasional violent incident, but even
championship games normally end without a hiccup, or else with the most
hot-headed supporters exchanging insults or, at worst, throwing things at each other.
I'm not trying to defend any of that behavior, of course. But my point is --
they don't kill 74 people. Again, something just doesn't add up.
Especially
when you learn that the Ultras, those organized and ultra-motivated fans, had
proved since January 25 that they were the stuff revolutions were made of. The
mostly Cairo-based Ahly Ultras teamed up with their counterparts from their
main crosstown rivals -- Zamalek's Ultras White Knights -- and, well, gave
Mubarak's goons hell. Their presence -- with the moral support they provided
through their loud, sometimes funny and occasionally obscene anti-government
chants, but also their courage when it came to fending off violent policemen --
could make or break a protest.
It
is those same police goons who were supposed to guarantee order in the stadium
tonight. (It should be noted that there has been absolutely no reform of the
police since the revolution.)
Like
I said. Something really doesn't add up.
The
immediate flow of information proved it. Normally the stadium managers
carefully control how the teams and the visiting fans are let out. This time,
though, the gates were opened immediately after the game ended, and supporters
were also allowed to invade the pitch -- something that almost never happens.
The very scarce policemen who were present did not attempt to break up the
fights.
74
dead. That's 74 families that will not sleep tonight. Or the night after that.
That's 74 bodies on a morgue table. Some, the autopsy will reveal, were
trampled or died of asphyxiation. Others -- those with injuries to the face or
chest or elsewhere -- will probably have "fatal trauma," that
horribly vague phrase, printed on their death certificates. Assuming, of
course, that the death certificates are issued properly. As I write this, I'm
getting reports that some bodies have been taken to a state hospital amid fears
that the doctors may be pressured by the police to alter their report. (That
has certainly happened before in Cairo.) Most of the dead, again from what we
gather from witness accounts, were Ahly fans, some of them Ultras. Many were
also Port-Saidis who took the former's defense. One policeman also lost his
life.
And
Egypt is on fire, but through the tears one can still see clearly.
On
the streets and on the web, blame is put squarely on the police. Once again it
failed miserably, as it has for the past year. Blame is also being put on the
ruling Supreme Council of the Armed Forces, the SCAF, as the head of the
executive branch.
Now
thousands of people -- many Ahly Ultras but not only them -- are marching to
the Cairo police station, awaiting the train carrying team supporters and the
bodies of those who were killed. And, just as they always do, in joy or
adversity, they are chanting. Against SCAF, against the Ministry of Interior,
against the sluggish SCAF-appointed prime minister who (as someone quipped on
Twitter) is probably still looking for his slippers so that he can get out of
bed and go see what the fuss is about. We're not out of the woods yet. Risks of
retaliation against Port Saidis are limited but real. Images of queues, until
midnight, of the Port Saidis lining up in front of hospitals to donate blood
for the injured have been heartwarming, and the resignation of the board of the
Masry team was the honorable thing to do. Nevertheless, anti-Port Said chants
have been heard in Cairo, and tension needs to be monitored and observed.
Parliamentarians
have been unequivocal in their condemnation of the security failure. Another
MP, Ziad El Elaimy, said that a mistake of these proportions could only be
deliberate. In this he shares the opinion of many Egyptians who believe that
the security shortcoming was intended, and that the police, with SCAF's
blessing, had sent saboteurs into the midst of the fans to teach the Ahly
Ultras a lesson.
The
head of the military junta, field Marshall Hussein Tantawi, opted to put the
blame on unidentified "citizens." Even more importantly, he seemed to
be asking people to take the law into their own hands, declaring that, "we
hope that all the Egyptian people will come together... Those who committed
those acts are Egyptian citizens, aren't they? How come Egyptians are allowing
them to remain, are not stopping them?"
"Them"
invariably refers to "activists." "Them." This wouldn't be
the first time that the army has exhorted people to do its bidding. Back in
October, during the infamous Maspero protest that left 24 people dead, state
television asked "honorable citizens" to "go out and defend the
army" against protesters.
Tomorrow
will be a defining day. First there's the young parliament. If it takes a
forceful stand and demands accountability from the executive branch, from the
Port Said police all the way up to Tantawi, it will indeed prove itself to be
the "Revolution's Parliament." But there's the chance that the
Ministry of the Interior will get its way by managing to push through a new
emergency law that would give it sweeping powers under the guise of "battling
chaos." (It made a case along precisely these lines to Parliament last
week.)
Then
there is the possibility of fresh street protests. A demonstration is planned
for tomorrow that will leave Ahly and head to the Ministry of Interior. The
symbolism is enormous, needless to say -- and it is only compounded by the fact
that tomorrow, February 2, is the anniversary of last year's "Battle of
the Camels." That was when government-paid, police-armed, army-approved
thugs attacked the protesters in Tahrir square on horse- and camelback in one
of the longest and bloodiest battles of the 2011 revolution.
A
little while ago a train from Port Said arrived at Cairo station. The live
reports are heartbreaking. Boys are looking for their friends. Families are
calling for their children. Mothers are crying as they realize they might never
see their kids again.
How
much hope can Egyptians dare to have?
In
the meantime, Egypt has declared three days of national mourning. The
revolution continues, one day at a time.
This commentary was published in Foreign Policy on 01/02/2012
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