A WORD OF GRATITUDE

 

Nothing uplifts the spirit of a prisoner of conscience more than

being recognized by like-minded human rights defenders.

 

When I was first arrested and detained nearly two and a half years

ago, the first foreign visit to me in prison was a delegation from

Freedom House.  I was deeply moved when I saw Paul Marshall and

Joseph Assad and I realized then, as I realize now, that I am not

alone in my struggle for democracy and human rights.

 

One year and three months later, I was in my prison cell when I was

rushed out to a communal T.V. room to interpret for the wardens and

inmates what was unfolding in New York and Washington on September

11th. Like everyone else I was stunned.   I suddenly remembered that

my wife Barbara was in New York and my daughter Randa was also due to

fly into NYC that same day.  Seeing the tragedy unfold, minute by

minute, translating, interpreting, and trying to make sense to the

prison officers who gathered, of the horrific scenes on the T.V.

screen while in an Egyptian prison was quite surrealistic.

 

A few hours later, back in my cell and alone, I laid awake all

night.  My mind was focused on my wife and daughter and the scale of

death and devastation.  My tragic imprisonment paled into nothing

compared to the American tragedy, which was soon to become a global

tragedy.  By the crack of dawn, my exhausted mind, strained spirit,

and tired body gave in to tears and a final hour of sleep on one

provisional thought - all these tragedies were some how connected.

Societies that restrict the space for citizens to participate and

express dissent will eventually spawn a twisted, angry, and lethal

response.

 

Freedom House

 

This is the second time I am being recognized by this great House of

Freedom.   The first time was exactly three years ago; and that is

when my current ordeal came to the open and has since become a clash

of wills.

 

Shortly after I left Washington D.C. at the end of the 1999 Award

Ceremony, a nasty sectarian clash between Coptic Christians and

Muslims erupted in the Upper Egyptian town of Alkoshh. Thirty people

were killed, many more injured, and some 100 shops and private homes

were burned down or sacked.  It was not the first time such sectarian

violent episode took place in modern Egypt.  Some 55 similar clashes

had taken place over the previous three decades.  But AlKoshh was by

far the ugliest and largest.

 

Speaking out publicly on what happened in Al-Koshh, not just the

civilian violence, but the troubling reports of its handling by the

police forces, was considered by Egypt's State Security Agency as a

heresy against them.

 

Organizing some 500 public figures to sign a declaration with policy

recommendations to put an end to this emerging pattern of sectarian

strife, was considered an outright defiance.

 

Publicizing the seriousness of the sectarian problem, was considered

as tarnishing the wholly perfect and tolerant face of Egypt, a crime

punishable - we soon learned - under a law from the 1920s never used

to prosecute another Egyptian citizen before.

 

The fact that the voice of dissent in all this was a Muslim, a noted

social scientist, and a credible human rights advocate made it

difficult to dismiss his pronouncements.  At the same time my Ibn

Khaldun Center was training young people to document human rights

abuses and to monitor local elections. Those I had angered decided to

act to eliminate Saad eddin Ibrahim from Egypt's public life.

 

On the night of June 30, 2000, six months after Al-Koshh, my initial

arrest took place.  I was detained for 45 days, and interrogated

along with 27 of my associates of the Ibn Khaldun Center and the

League of Egyptian Women Voters.

 

In the last three years:

 

-I have been through two trials, and we still may face a third, using

laws and courts established under Emergency Law.

 

-I have been through two detention centers and three prisons. Along

the way, I made choices.

 

I was asked, sometimes subtly and sometimes bluntly, to keep quiet,

to refrain from speaking out, stop advocating minority rights, and to

disband training for election monitoring.  In short, I was asked

either to get out of public life or to get back into prison.

 

I made my choice, and have no regret whatsoever, despite the personal

pain and suffering of my family, friends, Ibn Khaldun associates and

students.

 

I am confident that whatever my sacrifice or pain inflicted on those

close to me, it will not be in vain.

 

My country Egypt, and my Arab-Muslim world deserve better governance,

a free press, deserve to join the community of world democracies,

deserve not to live in fear.

 

That is my Dream.

 

It is the Dream of millions of voiceless Egyptians, Arabs, and

Muslims.

 

I would rather express my Dream and theirs from behind bars to this

House of Freedom than to live out my remaining years in silent

comfort.

 

And I pray that our leaders on both sides take heed. We live in a

world that must operate through the rule of law, dialogue,

multilateral alliances of those who share our values, and support for

the self-determination of all people. The alternative is all too

horrible ----cycles of violence and aggression, and the terrorist

response that it invariably provokes.

 

I hope you will stand by us.  Freedom for all can save us all.

 

Saad Eddin Ibrahim

Tora Prison, Cairo