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of Gamal Mubarak, had complete control of the Egyptian economy and were running it in their own interests. Forty million Egyptians, half the population, were living below the poverty line, on less than two dollars a day. Egypt was in decline on every front: from health and education to the economy and foreign policy. A few rich people lived like kings in their palaces and resorts, moving around in private planes, while poor people were committing suicide because they could not support their families or dying in the crush to obtain cheap bread or bottles of cooking gas. The vast police apparatus that cost billions at the expense of Egyptians was one of the worst instruments of repression in the world. Every day Egyptians were tortured in police stations and in many cases their wives and daughters were violated in front of them to make them confess to crimes that they had not committed.

      Why didn’t Egyptians rise up against all these injustices? There were three explanations for why there was no revolution. The first was that long repression had given Egyptians such a legacy of cowardice and submission that they would not rise up, whatever happened. The second was that revolution in Egypt was possible but there were numerous factors standing in the way, such as severe repression, the lack of an organization able to lead the masses, and the fact that Egyptians were distracted by the need to make a living and were seeking individual solutions to the crisis. As oppression and poverty grew more severe, many preferred to escape, geographically and historically. Geographically, they moved to the oil states in the Gulf to work, usually in humiliating trades, so that they could come home with enough money to live a reasonable life; others chose to travel in time, hanging on to the past and living in their imaginations in what they thought was the golden age of Islam. They wore gallabiyas, grew long beards, and adopted the names of early Muslims in order to escape from the cruel reality of the present to the glories of the past. Through the use of Saudi oil money and with the blessing of the Egyptian regime, there was an aggressive campaign to promote the Wahabi interpretation of Islam, which orders Muslims to obey their ruler however iniquitous and corrupt he might be. For all these reasons, this interpretation ruled out a revolution taking place in Egypt. The third explanation, which I favored, asserted that Egyptians were no less inclined toward revolution than other peoples, and that in fact they had carried out more revolutions in the twentieth century than some European nations, but that Egyptians have a particular nature that makes them less inclined toward violence and more inclined toward compromise. The Egyptians are an ancient people with a history stretching back seven thousand years and so, like old men, they have the wisdom to avoid problems as far as possible in order to live and bring up their children, but when they are certain that compromise is no longer possible they turn to revolution. Egyptians are like camels: they can put up with beatings, humiliation, and starvation for a long time but when they rebel they do so suddenly and with a force that is impossible to control.

      I was sure that revolution was coming soon. Many of my Egyptian and foreign friends disagreed with me and accused me of false optimism and unrealistic romanticism. I did not lose my confidence in the people for a single moment, even though none of the evidence corroborated my confidence. The protest movements in Egypt were small and ineffective, which tempted regime officials to take more measures to increase their wealth at the expense of the people’s suffering. The regime did what it liked with Egyptians and used the vast apparatus of repression to crush its opponents. I remember meeting the former finance minister over dinner at a friend’s house at a time when he had just pushed through tax legislation that would add to the burdens of the poor. When someone asked him, “Aren’t you worried the people might revolt?” the minister laughed and answered, “Don’t worry. This is Egypt, not Britain. We’ve taught Egyptians to accept anything.” This arrogant and contemptuous attitude toward Egyptians was prevalent in the discourse of the Egyptian regime, from Hosni Mubarak down to the humblest civil servant.

      In such an atmosphere I read on the Internet about the call to demonstrate on Tahrir Square on 25 January and did not pay much attention. I said to myself, “It’ll be another small demonstration with two or three hundred people, surrounded by tens of thousands of riot police to stop them marching.” On the morning of 25 January I woke up early as usual and busied myself working on my new novel until midday, but when I sat down for lunch and turned on the television I saw the miracle. A million Egyptians had come out on the streets calling for the downfall of the regime and Mubarak’s departure. I dressed hurriedly and joined the Egyptian revolution until the end. I lived eighteen days in the street except for a few hours when I slept and checked in with my family. The people I saw in Tahrir Square were new Egyptians, with nothing in common with the Egyptians I was used to dealing with every day. It was as if the revolution had recreated Egyptians in a higher form. It is unfair to call this a youth revolution. Young people began and led it, but the whole Egyptian people joined in. In Tahrir Square I saw Egypt fully represented: Egyptians of all ages and backgrounds, Copts and Muslims, young and old, children, women in hijab and women without, rich and poor. Millions of people took a stand in Tahrir Square, living together like members of the same family. There was a deep feeling of solidarity and courteous conduct, as if the revolution had not only rid Egyptians of fear but also cured them of their social defects. It was an extraordinary phenomenon to have thousands of women sleeping in the street without anyone harassing them. People left their personal belongings in the street in the certain knowledge that no one would steal them. Coptic Christians formed a ring around Muslims as they prayed to protect them from attacks by the regime’s forces. Muslim prayers and a Coptic mass took place at the same time for the souls of those killed in the revolution, and a young man with a guitar sang an anti-Mubarak song into the microphone. Thousands of people danced for joy and the devout with their beards could not help but sway to the rhythm. An atmosphere of complete tolerance made the protesters accept and respect all those who were different. We may have had different ideas and ideologies, but the most important thing was that we had the same objective: bringing the dictator down and winning freedom for Egypt. My experience of the revolution could take up a whole book. Every night I spoke in front of a million people, and I will never forget their eyes, full of anger and determination, and their united chant that roared like thunder: “Down with Hosni Mubarak!”

      Tahrir Square became like the Paris Commune. The authority of the regime collapsed and the authority of the people took its place. Committees were formed everywhere, committees to clean the square and committees to set up lavatories and washrooms. Volunteer doctors set up a field hospital. There was a defense committee to protect the protesters from attacks by armed thugs hired by the regime. There were committees to distribute food, blankets, and tents among the protesters in the square. I will never forget the good women who would come to the square around dawn with baskets full of food. One night I was tired and I threw an empty cigarette packet on the ground. A woman of more than seventy came up to me and said she was a fan of mine and had read everything I had written. I thanked her warmly, and then suddenly she pointed at the empty cigarette packet and said in a serious tone, “Pick that packet up off the ground.” I was taken aback, but I bent down and picked it up. In the same commanding tone, the woman said, “Throw it in the rubbish bin, over there.” I went and threw it in the bin and went back to the woman as embarrassed as a guilty child. She smiled and said, “We’re building a new Egypt and it must be clean, mustn’t it?” Hosni Mubarak and his interior minister, Habib al-Adli, committed every possible crime in order to stop the revolution. The riot police fired tear gas and rubber bullets at the protesters, and then orders went out to kill them. I was in the midst of hundreds of thousands of demonstrators when the snipers started firing. They were standing on the roof of the Interior Ministry, using rifles equipped with laser sights. The shots would hit the protesters right in middle of the head and kill them instantly. Two young men fell close to me within half an hour. The amazing thing is that the protesters did not retreat. As far as I could I urged the young men to move away from the Interior Ministry so that the snipers would not kill them. But no one cared any longer for their life or safety. It seemed that millions of people had melded into one giant human throng fighting for freedom regardless of the difficulties and the sacrifices. When all these crimes failed to stop the revolution, the regime carried out its emergency plan: police officers received orders to withdraw so that not a single policeman would be left in all Egypt. Then the prisons were opened and thousands of dangerous criminals were set free, armed, and sent out to attack houses and start fires. The aim was to frighten Egyptians into giving up the protests and staying at home to protect their houses from attack. But this vile scheme

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