Chapter 2: The Crisis of the Post-colonial Order and the Emergence of Human Rights NGOs in Egypt

Introduction

This chapter seeks to explain the emergence of Egypts first independent human rights organization in 1985. As the previous chapter noted, there is a tendency to regard globalization as encouraging the emergence of non-state actors, such as NGOs. In particular, human rights NGOs are often regarded as a product of the increasing international concern for human rights. Despite the very different normative approaches of the two sets of globalization literature examined in the previous chapter, both trends tend to regard the impetus for the growth in NGOs as emanating from external processes or as representing interests external to the society in which they operate. One set of literature depicts the rise in non-state actors, including NGOs, as undermining the power of the nation state and, consequently, threatening democracy. The other set of literature argues that the increase in NGOs and upsurge in civil society acts a counterbalance to the nation state and enables citizen participation, thereby contributing to democratization.

This chapter locates the emergence of Egyptian human rights NGOs within Egyptian civil society and its responses to the economic, social and political transformations that have occurred within Egypt in the post-colonial period, particularly the onset of crisis following the 1967 military defeat at the hands of Israel. The crisis experienced after 1967 can be considered to represent the crisis of post-colonial hegemony. Part 1 of this chapter describes the nature of Egyptian post-colonial hegemony and the integral relationship of Egyptian civil society to its production and reproduction. Part 2 describes the reactions of civil society to the post-1967 crisis. It demonstrates how significant sections of civil society criticized the government for the 1967 defeat and opposed government attempts to deal with the crisis. Out of this criticism emerged a pro-democracy movement that was particularly strong among students (some of whom would later become the founders of human rights NGOs). Yet, despite the enormous anger civil society demonstrated towards the government and its calls for democratization during the post-1967 era, the interviews with former activists demonstrate that civil society continued to maintain the post-colonial hegemony through its actions and demands, thereby contributing to the reproduction of authoritarian power relations. The first human rights NGO marked a break with the existing political environment in terms of its organizational structure, however, on the level of membership and ideology, it represented a continuation in civil society actions to maintain the post-colonial hegemony.

1. The Post-colonial Hegemonic Consensus

The post-colonial hegemony in Egypt consists of the mechanisms of regime domination negotiated between regime and civil society from 1952 onwards. The terms of negotiation were framed by Egypts political, economic and social conditions preceding independence in 1952. Politically, Egypt had been controlled by the British through the palace and corrupt parliamentarians (Hussein 1973: 61, 72; Gordon 1992: 1438). Economically, Egypt was dominated by a small elite of large land and business owners. Socially, a majority of the population lived in poverty, with practically no access to education (Hussein 1973: 1725, 53). In this context, the demands of the National Committee of Workers and Students, created in 1946, was for the evacuation of the British. The anti-colonialist movements strategy included demonstrations and strikes against local capital as a symbol of imperialism (ibid: 73).

The Free Officers presented themselves as the embodiment of the nations aspirations for socio-economic development, socio-economic justice and freedom from imperialist domination. Beyond these broad goals, there were no concrete plans of how to achieve them (Beattie 1994; Gordon 1996). To a certain extent, events overtook the Free Officers, and the resulting trajectory of change was the outcome of an interaction of international relations, such as the Suez Crisis, international political economy, (particularly the domination of an etatist model of development, whether Keynesian or socialist) and the configuration of domestic social forces (capital owners, working classes, peasants and petit bourgeoisie).

The need for economic development, as a means of achieving social justice and state building, pushed the new government in search of capital. When the World Bank denied Egypt credit in 1956, President Gamal Abd al-Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal (Fleming 1961: 82122; Vatikiotis 1969: 392). The ensuing crisis was followed by government appropriations of foreign (particularly British and French) companies, thereby beginning the path toward economic etatism (Clawson 1981: 99; Richards & Waterbury 1991: 195; Beattie 1994).

International trends in political economy at that time privileged etatist economic policies. In Western Europe, Keynesian economics was predominant. This economic orthodoxy emphasized the role of the state in macroeconomic management as the most effective way of securing economic growth and the role of the welfare state in guaranteeing levels of consumer demand (Hoogvelt 1997: 49). In the Eastern Bloc, state economic planning and welfare provision took the form of socialism. Moreover, in Latin America and Turkey, import substitution industrialization (ISI) strategies had been adopted, largely successfully, and it seems reasonable to expect the Free Officers to have wanted to replicate that success in Egypt (Richards & Waterbury 1991).

To a certain degree, the political and ideological direction of the post-colonial regime was shaped by the economic model that it adopted. ISI relied heavily on domestic production and extraction of capital from the agricultural sector in addition to mass consumption of domestic products (ibid: 27). Therefore, workers and farmers had to be willing to cooperate with state economic plans and contribute to national development, whilst a large majority of the population had to be able to participate in the economy as consumers. Consequently, the ISI model privileged the popular sector over other social groups, whilst discursively constituting the idea of a popular coalition of working people (workers, peasants, the middle classes, the military, the intelligentsia and domestic capital) (Ayubi 1995: 20506, 209). In order to mobilize a populist/ISI coalition, the regime extended socio-economic welfare benefits (universal healthcare and education, guaranteed employment, subsidized food and rent controls, among other measures) to large sections of society and undertook a radical land reform programme in the countryside (Abdel-Fadil 1975 & 1980; Richards & Waterbury 1991: 152184; Ayubi 1995: 217; Pripstein Posusney 1997: 4748, 5960, 70). The social mobility and income redistribution achieved as a result of these measures should not be underestimated (Hinnebusch 1985: 2528).

The corporatization of civil society organizations, such as the trade unions, professional syndicates, and agricultural cooperatives, facilitated the flow of socio-economic benefits from state to citizen, particularly those citizens who were important to the success of economic developmentthat is, the middle classes, workers and peasants. Although society in general benefited from the socio-economic welfare measures of the public sector, Egyptian civil society often benefited more. Corporatist structures gave civil society the opportunity to build patronage links with the regime and bureaucracy (Bianchi 1989).

Egyptian civil society also benefited from the ideological dimension of the hegemonic discourse. Corporatist organizations, whether trade unions, professional syndicates or womens groups, were represented as playing a special role in the modernization of the state. For example, workers were praised for their contributions to economic development (Pripstein Posusney 1997). Women were granted equal rights to vote and to work as a symbol of the states modernity (Badran 1996: 219). In return for these benefits, civil society sacrificed its political independence (Badran 1996: 24950; New Woman Research Centre 1996: 2526; Pripstein Posusney 1997: 77; Beinin & Lockman 1998: 43237).The government, as the executive of the state, was able to present its actions as being in the Nations interests since it was responding to many of the demands of civil society. The foremost demand of civil society had been an end to the imperialist control of Egypt. The complete expulsion of foreign influences after the 1956 (Suez) war brought many public figures, who had previously been opposed to the Free Officers, onto the side of the new regime (Beattie 1994). Moreover, the rights granted to the trade unions, such as minimum pay, vacations, protection from arbitrary dismissal and the right to form a national federation of trade unions had all been central demands of the workers movement prior to 1952 (Pripstein Posusney 1997; Beinin and Lockman 1998). The regimes provision of social welfare benefits to its citizens may have been regarded by civil society as an extension of the political culture of paternalism existing prior to 1952 between elites and subalterns (Beinin and Lockman 1998: 43132). The exchange involved in such a relationship is based on a system of reciprocity where individual interests are secondary to the interests of the collective. Consequently, all other autonomous political activity was delegitimized as being against the Nations interests and was, in general, repressed through coercion (Abdel-Malek 1962: 318; Beinin 1989; Gordon 1992). Through state domination of corporatist organizations, the regime was able to weed out opponents and co-opt supporters. Marsha Pripstein Posusney describes in detail such a process in relation to the Egyptian workers movement and trade unions (Pripstein Posusney 1997: 6064).

It should be noted that the demands of civil society in the immediate post-colonial period were, in general, not for parliamentary democracy. The social forces that supported the Free Officers coup were disillusioned with the parliamentary democracy of the pre-1952 era (Gordon 1992: 1438). In view of the socio-economic conditions of the post-war period, it is understandable that people desired socio-economic justice, which they saw as a function of liberation from colonialism. Moreover, social justice and freedom from exploitation was portrayed by the regime as a prerequisite for political democracy (National Charter of the United Arab Republic of 1962, p. 62, cit. in Sharabi 1966: 128). As former Free Officer and now head of the Tagammu party, Khaled Mohi El Din, remembers:

Gamal Abd al-Nasser succeeded in realizing all that we had dreamed for, with the exception of greater democracy. In fact, he may have accomplished all of this and simultaneously opposed democracy. Regardless of my assessment of Nassers attitude toward democracy, neither I nor anyone else can deny that the people overwhelmingly supported him and his achievements and did not pause even for a moment to consider the issue of democracy (Mohi El Din 1995: 238).

Indeed, Mohi El Din argues that the majority of civil society believed that the return to democracy in the early months following the coup would signal a halt to the revolutionary transformation of EgyptEither the revolution or democracy! (ibid: 226, 22829). The priority for the Free Officers, the majority of the Egyptian people and civil society, was to rid Egypt of colonialism. Democracy was not only a secondary concern but was considered by some to represent a mechanism through which enemies could attack national unity (Mohi El Din 1995: 233; al-Adli 1993: 22024).

The above discussion briefly outlines the role played by civil society in producing a hegemonic consensus in post-colonial Egypt. The aim has been to demonstrate the way in which the hegemonic consensus emerged out of negotiations between regime and civil society, rather than as the result of the regime imposing its blueprint for change upon society. This process of negotiation was far more conflictual than the above account would appear to argue. These conflicts and struggles have been well documented by many other scholars (Abdel-Malek 1962; Gordon 1992; Beattie 1994; Badran 1996; Beinin & Lockman 1998, among others). The point is that, despite the conflicts and struggles that characterized the early years of the post-colonial era, a hegemonic consensus emerged around certain principle axes.

This view of post-colonial Egyptian history contradicts the general view that regards Anwar al-Sadats presidency as marking an important break from previous governance mechanisms (Cooper 1982; Hinnebusch1985; and Adli 1993). Those studies that address the post-1981 period tend to treat governance mechanisms under Husni Mubarak as more or less a continuation of those operating under Anwar al-Sadat (Harik & Sullivan 1992; Ayubi 1995; Pripstein Posusney 1997; and Beinin 1999). The basis for this periodization is located in two principle concepts: that of bureaucratic authoritarianism in the work of Guillermo ODonnell (ODonnell 1973); and that of the social contract. Based on the concept of bureaucratic authoritarianism, scholars have characterized the pre-infitah period as one in which the popular sector was socially and economically included and politically mobilized. The post-infitah period is characterized as one in which the popular sector experiences an erosion in their social and economic status and is politically de-mobilized (Cooper 1982; Hinnebusch 1985; Adli 1993; Pripstein Posusney 1997; Beinin 1999). The alternative explanation for the division of post-colonial governance into the pre-1974 and the post-1974 periods is based on the concept of social contract, which sees the Nasser regime granting Egyptian citizens social and economic rights whilst denying civil and political rights. After 1974, Sadat introduced civil and political rights in return for the withdrawal of social and economic rights (Harik & Sullivan 1992; Ayubi 1995).

Here, I stress the continuities of the post-colonial period in order to draw attention to the mechanisms of domination employed by the regime in order to maintain its hegemony. I break down the elements of this hegemonic consensus into moral-ideological, institutional and material elements. I characterize the moral-ideological element as patriarchal nationalism; the institutional element as corporatism; and the material element as the distribution of socio-economic benefits through the public sector.

Patriarchal-nationalism is based on the idea that the Nation is supreme and that the regime, as patriarch of the Nation, is the sole legitimate representative and protector of the Nations interests. The Nation is an imagined community (Anderson 1983), portrayed as a homogeneous bloc of forces, either implicitly or explicitly in contrast with those who lie outside of the Nation. The boundary of the Nation is not fixed forever in time and shifts in relation to changing notions of identity, for example, between Egyptian nationalism (wataniya) and pan-Arabism (qawmiya) or pan-Islamism (al-umma al-islamiya). The production of boundaries distinguishing between Us and Them or Self and Other is a significant part of creating the idea of the Nation (see Chapter 4 for a further discussion of this process). In all three types of nationalism mentioned above, the Other usually corresponds with the geographical Westas colonizers, imperialists or unbelievers.

Despite the fact that the notions of pan-Arabism and pan-Islamism would appear to challenge the territorially delimited Egyptian state, they may actually strengthen the regime as patriarch of the Nation. That is because pan-Arabism and pan-Islamism may become political capital in the struggle between states to assert regional leadership (Ayubi 1995: 151). This was certainly the case with regard to Gamal Abd al-Nassars attempt to make Egypt the pivotal regional state.

The interests of the Nation are unquestionably synonymous with the interests of the regime and considered to be politically supreme. Since the regime is the sole legitimate representative of the Nations interests it is, therefore, the sole legitimate body capable of acting within the political sphere. The consequence of this ideology is that the state has been able to deny the rights of individuals to act within the political sphere where this is in direct competition with the regime. Moreover, the regime has also denied the existence of rights or particular interests for particular groups within the Nation, such as women, workers, or Copts, on the grounds of national solidarity, national security or national development, as defined by the regime.

This ideology supported state corporatism, which institutionally links subordinated groups within civil society to state institutions. Through corporatist arrangements, all civil society organizationswomens groups, trade unions and professional associationswere subjected to control by the regime in the name of mobilizing society for national modernization and development (as defined by the regime). This was achieved through linking interest groups to the regime by means of state-dominated, hierarchical federations, such as the General Federation of Egyptian Trade Unions (GFETU) and the General Federation of Civil Associations (jamiyat ahliya). However, a patriotic commitment among many members of civil society to contribute to post-independence national development meant that the states penetration of civil society organizations was not necessarily perceived negatively. The representation of civil society interests at regime level through corporatist organizations was welcomed by many groups (particularly, workers, as noted above).

The material element of hegemony was rooted in the states domination of the economy. Corporatism contributed to state penetration and control over the economy and society, facilitating the creation of a huge public sector. Even during a period in which the public sector was supposed to be ceding space to the private sector (under al-infitah), revenues flowing to the state from increased private sector activity were used to finance public investment and expenditure (Ayubi 1995: 293). The existence of the public sector enabled the regime to incorporate individuals into the state and create their dependence on the regime. Through the public sector, individuals were provided with jobs, health care, education, housing and subsidized food and services (Richards & Waterbury 1991). While this social safety net obviously helped increase the standard of living of individuals, it also reinforced the ideology of the patriarchal regime that protects the Nations interests. The distribution of socio-economic benefits by the state also increased the political subordination of citizens to the regime by creating a conceptual division between social and economic rights on the one hand and civil and political rights on the other. All citizens enjoyed social and economic rights. Meanwhile, civil and political rights were not necessarily regarded as part of citizenship rights (Singerman 1997: 245). On the contrary, they were granted by the regime as and when it deemed appropriate, in line with the Nations interests. Since only socio-economic benefits, and not civil and political liberties, characterized citizenship rights, citizen activity through civil society became confined to the guarantee of socio-economic benefits for all. Meanwhile, activities related to political or civil freedoms were the sole business of the regime. Consequently, the only legitimate activities for civil society in the post-colonial period became those that addressed socio-economic benefits.

These three elements are not completely autonomous, but mutually constituting. Therefore, changes in one of the elements of the hegemonic discourse leads to changes in the other elements. Since the end of the 1980s, severe economic problems have forced the government to undertake a structural adjustment programme (SAP), which has led to the dismantling of the public sector and the withdrawal of its accompanying wide-ranging benefits. However, rather than completely reforming the pillars of the post-colonial hegemony, these developments in the material sphere have led the regime to compensate by strengthening the moral-ideological and institutional elements of the consensus. For example, over the last 10 years, the regime has strengthened corporatism by increasing its control over corporatist institutions. This is demonstrated by a 1993 law reducing the autonomy of professional syndicates and a 1995 law increasing government control over the trade unions. This and other legislation strengthen patriarchal-nationalism by criminalizing independent political activity and freedom of expression. Simultaneously, the regime continues to portray itself as the patriarch with sole responsibility for the welfare of its citizens. Towards this end, the government has introduced more targeted benefits, such as pensions, student grants and housing for young people in new desert cities and promised new jobs in the civil service (despite the fact that the government is supposed to be embarking upon a reduction in this sector). The regimes increased control over the ideological and institutional elements of its hegemony compensates for its decreasing control over the distribution of economic and social benefits due to the introduction of neoliberal economic reforms. The states capacity to reassert its hegemony in the face of globalization is explored further in Chapter 5.

As Gramsci argued, consensus is backed by coercion. Law and the legal system may be regarded as a mechanism of state coercion. The consensus depicted above has been codified through a variety of laws, dealing with the limits of independent political activity, the provision of socio-economic benefits and the structure of corporatist institutions. The existence of laws that codify the boundaries of the consensus help to ensure that the state has legitimate recourse to coercion where necessary. The first Egyptian human rights organization was established against a post-colonial consensus over the role and nature of civil associations, their relation to the regime and the permitted boundaries of their work. This consensus was legally codified by Law 32/1964 governing civil associations.

Law 32/1964 Governing Civil Associations (al-jamaiyat al-ahliya)

Law 32/1964 governing civil associations provides an example of how the regime sought to regulate its relationship with one section of civil society and incorporate it into the post-colonial hegemonic consensus. Other laws were promulgated in order to incorporate the trade unions, professional associations and other civil society organizations. Prior to 1952, civil associations were given substantial freedom and were governed only by the civil code (Zubaida 1992). After 1952, a number of amendments were made to the legislation governing civil associations in order to prevent them from becoming spheres of independent political activity. These amendments culminated in Law 32/1964. In order to demonstrate how this law has acted as a mechanism of reproduction of the hegemonic discourse, we will examine the law in four parts: corporatist institutional arrangements, financial structures, ideological dimensions and penalties.

Corporatist Institutional Arrangements

The 1964 law organized civil associations into a strict, monopolistic hierarchy, with the Ministry of Social Affairs (MOSA) at the apex of the pyramid (see figure 2.1 below). This hierarchy prevents freedom of association between civil associations, forming the base of the pyramid, by categorizing them according to function and geographical location. Associations are organized into two mandatory types of federation: one of 26 regional federations, according to geographical location, and one of 12 specialized federations, by type of activity. The regional federations are responsible for reviewing the finances of associations and the decisions of their boards. The specialized federations review and coordinate the activities of associations in their respective sectors. An association is only permitted to work in one designated type of welfare work (each of the 12 specialized federations corresponds to a type of welfare work) or in community development (Law 32/1964, Article 4) and an association is not permitted to conduct any activity outside of its geographical area (Law 32/1964, Article 26). If MOSA considers that there would be a duplication of work in a certain area, it may refuse the registration of another association (Law 32/1964, Article 12). Consequently, mandatory membership in the regional and specialized federations makes it difficult for associations to form horizontal links between and across geographical and sectoral lines.

The different levels within the hierarchy are controlled by the executive through their appointment of the boards of different federations. The regional and specialized federations consist of appointed and elected members. According to the powers granted to them through the Local Government Law 43/1979, local governors may nominate one-fifth (five members) of the regional federation board from among officials, whilst MOSA appoints officials to the boards of both types of federations. The remaining members of the regional and specialized federations are elected by the membership, that is, the civil associations.

The regional and the specialized federations are supervised and coordinated by the board of the General Federation of Civic Associations. The General Federation board consists of seven MOSA officials and 22 members selected by MOSA from the regional and specialized federations (Law 32/1964, Article 85). A presidential decree supplementary to the Law designates 20 members of the General Federation board from among MOSA officials, the under-secretaries of ten other ministries and representatives of the ruling party, with the Minister of Social Affairs appointed as chair to the General Federation board (Presidential Decree 1301/1969, Article 1). The under-secretary of social affairs is designated secretary-general of the General Federation (Ministerial Decree 147/1969, Article 2).

The line of accountability within the hierarchy runs from bottom to top and not vice versa. Civil associations are accountable to MOSA, the relevant governorate authorities and the regional and specialized federations (Law 32/1964: Articles 14, 16, 18, 27, 39, 44, 54, 55, 77 and 88b and Law 43/1979: Article 8). Regional and specialized federations are accountable to the General Federation (Law 32/1964, Articles 87 and 88), which is appointed and chaired by MOSA. Any decisions taken by civil associations must be approved by MOSA and the regional or specialized federations, while the latter must report to the General Federation.

In addition to the mechanisms of control afforded by the nature of the hierarchy, Law 32/1964 gives MOSA the powers to intervene directly in the work of an association. It may appoint up to 50 per cent of an associations board members (Law 32/1964, Article 48) and some of the members of an associations managerial staff (Law 32/1964, Articles 21 and 28). In addition, the local governorate may nominate members to the boards of associations in its jurisdiction. MOSA may take control of an association it believes to fulfil a public interest. Such associations are transformed into public status associations by presidential decree. MOSA may then be responsible for the complete administration of the association or the implementation of certain projects (Law 32/1964, Articles 63 and 64). There are over 300 public status associations (CAPMAS 1996). In addition, as Sami Zubaida notes, public status associations also fulfil a role of patronage (1992: 6).

The organization of civil associations by Law 32/1964 adheres to the typical model of corporatism, as defined by Philippe Schmitter, that is,

Corporatism can be defined as a system of interest representation in which the constituent units are organized into a limited number of singular compulsory, non-competitive, hierarchically ordered and functionally differentiated categories, recognized or licensed (if not created) by the State and granted a deliberate representational monopoly within their respective categories in exchange for absolving certain controls on their selection of leaders and articulation of demands and supports (Schmitter 1979: 13).

The Law creates structures that vertically link civil associations and foundations to the executive through the hierarchical General Federation and the governorate authorities. This hierarchy imposes control over an association by making an association accountable to the different layers of the hierarchy, which are, ultimately, accountable to the executive. Simultaneously, the Law prohibits pluralism of associations by geographical area of sector and prevents horizontal linkages from being formed.

Financial Structures

The Law controls the financial operations of civil associations in order to maintain their material dependency upon the executive. An association must seek prior approval from the executive before collecting funds or soliciting donations from any sourcewhether foreign (Law 32/1964, Article 23) or domestic (Law 32/1964, Article 25). A written request for approval must be submitted to MOSA and where approval is granted, it is valid for three months (Presidential Decree 932/1966, Article 19). Moreover, the Law tightly controls the ability of civil associations to earn income from investing their funds (Law 32/1964, Articles 19 and 20).

A Support Fund exists to disburse state funds to civil associations, private foundations and the federations. MOSA appoints all the members of the Support Fund from among the executive (Law 32/1964, Article 91). Consequently, civil associations and their beneficiaries do not have any input into the allocation of funds. Revenues for the Support Fund come from certain taxes, fees, contributions from civil associations and foundations and the annual government budgetary allocations (ibid). Only about 35 per cent of civil associations (approximately 5000 out of 14000) receive an annual average sum of LE3000 from the Support Fund, and the majority of these are public status associations, that is, associations implementing MOSA projects (Ibrahim 1996b: 32).

The tight regulation of the financing of civil associations has led many associations to attempt to mitigate the stifling effects of the Law through various survival strategies. For example, many associations have hired high-ranking bureaucrats as project consultants in order to secure approval for grants from foreign donors (ibid: 32). Sami Zubaida points to the way in which Islamic associations manage to circumvent the laws bureaucratic restrictions through informal networks among local-level MOSA employees (1992). However, the fact that MOSA officials are included on the boards of many associations provides an opportunity for associations in general to benefit from informal mechanisms. Significant numbers of associations ignore the Law and receive grants from foreign donors without prior approval. MOSA turns a blind eye because foreign donors alleviate the problem of MOSAs lack of funds, whilst the associations provide key services that the state is increasingly unable to provide, such as healthcare and poverty alleviation programmes (Ibrahim 1996b: 33).

Ideological Dimensions

The above organizational and financial elements of the Law have an ideological dimension in that they clearly represent civil associations as subordinate to and dependent upon the interests of the executive. The Explanatory Memorandum of Law 32/1964 identified the ideological intentions of the Law as an instrument of state-directed modernization. It refers to the importance of subjecting the efforts in the social field to proper co-ordination within a general comprehensive plansupervised, directed and monitored by the state (Explanatory Memorandum, p. 34, cit. in Ibrahim 1996b: 18).

Figure 2.1 Illustrating the Corporatist Organization of Egyptian NGOs according to Law 32/1964 (adapted from Ibrahim 1996b: 25)

Moreover, the Explanatory Memorandum states that the Law seeks to bring civil associations in line with the socialist system adopted by the country in other aspects of life (Explanatory Memorandum, p. 33, cit. in ibid: 18).

The Law defines the boundaries between what is a permissible civil activity and what is not. A permissible civil activity includes community development or one of the following 12 designated welfare activities (in addition to the category of multiple activities):

1. Social Assistance;

2. Religious, Scientific and Cultural Services;

3. Maternity and Child Care;

4. Family Welfare;

5. Welfare of Special Categories and People with Disabilities;

6. Welfare of the Aged;

7. Friendship between Peoples;

8. Family Planning;

9. Social Protection;

10. Management and Administration;

11. Welfare of Prisoners;

12. Literacy; or

13. Multiple activities, which must be stipulated in the by-laws of the association before registration.

A non-permissible civil activity and grounds for executive refusal to register an association include:

1. An activity that MOSA believes is unnecessary to the community or already being carried out by another association;

2. An activity that the authorities consider to be a threat to national security;

3. An activity that is considered by the authorities to be an attempt to operate an illegitimate political party under the pretence of an association;

4. An activity that is included within the mandate of the work of professional syndicates or trade unions; and,

5. An activity that is included within the mandate of the work of political parties.

The Law implicitly contains the idea that civil associations are in fact public associations that must be regulated by public authorities, which is why the executive must have almost unlimited powers to intervene in an associations work. Towards this end, the Law grants MOSA powers to supervise, monitor, dissolve, suspend and merge civil associations and foundations, to appoint and remove the officers of associations and to review and annul the decisions of associations, including their internal elections. The Law also provides strict rules concerning the internal governance of associations, including membership, the general assembly, elections of the board, book-keeping and reporting. Nothing is left to the discretion of an associations members.

Moreover, association members are presumed to be a threat to national security. As part of the registration procedure, a copy of all necessary documents must be sent to the State Security Department for approval (Presidential Decree 932/1966, Article 4). As part of the election of an associations board, the list of candidates must be sent to MOSA for clearance and MOSA may annul the election results (Law 32/1964, Articles 55 and 56). Association members cannot be trusted to travel abroad. Board members must request prior permission from MOSA, the relevant regional and specialized federations, Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Ministry of the Interior before travelling abroad for the purpose of representing their association (Ministerial Decree 754/1972). Moreover, the Law implies that association members are inherently corrupt and self-seeking and, therefore, cannot be trusted with money. The Law requires that the association obtain prior approval before keeping a certain amount of cash in the office or with an officer (Law 32/1964, Articles 1820).

Yet executive control is, primarily, about the mobilization of social resources for the purpose of modernization, rather than the restriction of associative life (although the latter is certainly a consequence of the Law governing associations). Where associations undertake welfare activities and keep their records in order, they are not prevented from working. Neither does MOSA restrict the creation of welfare associations. Between 1990 and 1992, 2,777 new associations were given licenses (Zaki 1995: 61). Nevertheless, when the executive considers an associations activities to be politically sensitive to the government, it can use Law 32/1964 to harass an association. Some associations have suffered this type of harassment as punishment for their participation in an NGO coalition against government proposals for an amended NGO Law (see Chapter 5 for further details).

Penalties

Law 32/1964 stipulates a number of penalties. If punishment is a political tactic (Foucault 1991: 23), then the aim of these penalties is to reinforce the boundary of permissible associational activities and to criminalize all those who transgress those boundaries. The most significant aspect of these penalties is that the responsibility for the offences mentioned in Law 32/1964 lies with each of the members of an associations board and its managers, whether elected or appointed. This goes against normal legal practice, in which associations are treated as corporate bodies and, therefore, cannot possess individual criminal liability. Instead, corporate bodies are usually subject to civil law when they commit offences. Civil law punishes offences by forcing the perpetrator to pay compensation to the person/s harmed by their actions (Salem 1991). Law 32/1964 states that association board members and managers possess criminal liability. Therefore, they are subject to the Penal Code, whose penalties are often harsher for the offences listed in the Law (Law 32/1964, Article 97). The fact that Law 32/1964, in essence, criminalizes offences of a civil nature is another indication of the degree to which individuals that participate in civil associations are regarded with an a priori suspicion of doing harm to society and the assumption that society must be protected from these individuals.

The Law lists the following offences, punishable by up to six months in prison and/or a fine of LE200, or any stricter relevant penalty from the Penal Code:

1. Falsifying, concealing or withholding from MOSA officials registration documents, membership lists, financial account books, regular correspondence, agenda for the general assembly meeting or minutes of the general assembly meeting including election results, or handing over this information to anyone not authorized in the Law;

2. Operating as an association before receiving a licence;

3. Carrying out activities not specified in the associations by-laws;

4. Allowing non-members to participate in an associations deliberations;

5. Continuing an associations activities after its dissolution;

6. Fund-raising for an association without permission;

7. Refusing to hand over an associations documents and funds after it has been forced to merge (Law 32/1964, Article 92).

None of the above offences represent incidents where individuals are harmed. Rather, they represent occasions where MOSA is denied control over an association. The executive considers this behaviour in such a serious light that it is criminalized. Moreover, the question of executive control is not subject to judicial checks and balances. The Law allows MOSA to appoint a new board or to merge or dissolve an association where it believes that the Law has been violated without recourse to the courts (Law 32/1964, Article 96). Associations may only challenge these actions once they are a fait accompli.

Moheb Zaki notes that the above penalties are rarely used (Zaki 1995: 61). Yet, their ideological implications are clear regarding the subjugation of associations to the executive and the supposed potential dangers that associations pose to society without monitoring by the regimein the name of the Nation. Indeed, MOSA does not need to resort to politically costly coercive practices when it can use the everyday stipulations of the Law as a means of maintaining its hegemony over associations, such as excessive inspection procedures, vetoing decisions, denying fund-raising permits and denying permits to expand activities or extend geographical operations (Ibrahim 1996b: 25). Indeed, as mentioned above, it is these types of bureaucratic harassment that have been used against some associations as punishment for their involvement in a campaign against a new NGO law. The resort to the use of penalties, such as the closure of Nawal El-Saadawis Arab Womens Solidarity Association (AWSA) in 1992, are used in exceptional situations.

Despite the restrictions placed on associational activity by Law 32/1964, there was limited domestic opposition to it until the preparations for the United Nations International Conference on Population and Development (ICPD) held in Cairo in September 1994 (see Chapter 5 for further details). Instead, associations registered under the Law preferred to manipulate and circumvent it rather than directly challenge it. The only challenge to the Law came from the Egyptian Organization for Human Rights after MOSA refused to license it in 1987 on the basis that this type of organization was not needed (Salem 1991: 1). The EOHR appealed the MOSA decision before the Administrative Court in 1987. Then, in 1990, the EOHR brought another case before the State Council challenging the constitutionality of Law 32/1964, on the grounds that the Egyptian Constitution guarantees the right of freedom of association and that the international human rights covenants ratified by the government and incorporated into Egyptian law also guarantee this right (Salem 1991: 1).

In 1991, the Committee for the Amendment of the Non-governmental Organizations Law was formed by the EOHR and the Arab Organization for Human Rights, with the participation of the Arab Womens Solidarity Association, the Egyptian Organization for National Unity Studies, legal experts and political activists. One of the members of this committee, Amir Salem, produced the first critique of Law 32/1964 and recommendations for a new law (Salem 1991). The campaign caught the attention of international organizations, such as Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International. However, it was never domestically successful, failing to mobilize the associations registered under Law 32/1964. This was partly due to the fact that the people involved in the committee came mainly from a background of political activism whereas Law 32 associations saw themselves as non-political. Moreover, the government was very successful in pre-empting opposition to Law 32/1964 by periodically claiming that the law was under review and making minor amendments (approximately every 10 years according to Ibrahim 1996b: 40). These amendments would be released in April or May, near to the end of the legislative year, thereby preventing any discussion of the matter (ibid: 40).

In addition to the governments concern to keep a tight control over the work of associations, Law 32/1964 also developed vested interests within MOSA. The articles in the law granting MOSA officials substantial power over the future operations of associations have, naturally, led to rent-seeking behaviour among bureaucrats, which, in turn, has created a constituency extremely hostile to the amendment of Law 32/1964 (ibid: 47). Nevertheless, the government has attempted to amend Law 32/1964 in response to domestic and international pressures, as we shall examine further in Chapter 5.

2. Hegemony in Crisis: Egypts Changing Political, Economic and Social Landscape post-1967

The provisions of Law 32/1964 must be understood within the context of Egypts post-colonial hegemonic consensus. The law rendered civil associations politically subordinate to the regime in order to facilitate their utilization as a mechanism for distribution of socio-economic benefits and for mobilizing societal resources to contribute to economic modernization. Civil associations complemented the public sector, which formed the material basis for the post-colonial hegemony. As argued by Mark Cooper, the post-colonial political economy was based on the twin processes of investment (in public sector production) and wide-scale consumption (of socio-economic benefits) within an economic development strategy of ISI (1981). Whilst the economy was expanding, this apparently complementary system of production and consumption worked well. Indeed, between 1960 and 1965, growth rates of 6 per cent per annum were recorded (Richards and Waterbury 1991: 196). After 1965, it became apparent that these two processes were simultaneously unsustainable. The public sector was unable to produce the goods and services necessary to maintain the level of socio-economic benefits provided to all citizens at the same rate that these benefits were being consumed, creating a shortfall in available domestic resources to invest in production (Cooper 1981: Chapter 4). The regime was unable/unwilling to extract sufficient economic resources from its citizens through direct income tax. Instead, it introduced price increases and raised indirect taxation in 1966, in addition to obligatory salary deductions among public sector employees. This led to the eruption of strikes and protests among workers (Hussein 1973: 23437).

Moreover, Egyptian industries were unable to compete and sell their goods on the world market and, therefore, were unable to attract the foreign currency needed to finance the importing of the capital goods necessary for continued industrial expansion (Clawson 1981: 1067). As a result, after 1965, the government was forced to borrow heavily from abroad and the foreign trade deficit grew (Cooper 1981: Ch. 4).

The 1967 defeat at the hands of Israel compounded the economic crisis and brought into question the credibility of the regime. One NGO activist who was active in the student movement of the late 1960s recalls the significance of the 1967 defeat for her generation and their political beliefs:

We had felt that at last Egypt is controlled by Egyptians and we can build the economy and develop. We believed in pan-Arabism as a strategy for development of resources. After the new type of colonization in 1948 [that is, the creation of Israel], we felt that we could regain Palestine. The price of this was to follow the leader and sacrifice democracy. Nineteen sixty-seven opened our eyes and overturned our ideas. We saw the corruption of the system. My peers died in Sinai without a fight.

After the show trials of 1968, workers and students took to the streets calling for the resignations of those responsible for the defeat (Hussein 1973: 29297). These demonstrations developed into a movement for the regaining of Arab lands from Israel as well as greater political freedoms and social justice (Abdalla 1985: 152, 18991, 22426). This movement was restorative, in that it was aiming to restore the supremacy and dignity of the Nation against the enemy, Israel, and the socio-economic benefits that large sectors of the population had come to expect. Simultaneously it was reformist, in that it called for the reforming of corporatist structures to allow more political freedom for civil society. The economic recession and the 1967 defeat produced cracks in the post-colonial hegemonic order that forced many people to reconsider some of its aspects, but not to reject it totally.

The impetus for the reconsideration of the post-colonial order also came from beyond Egypt. The student and worker demonstrations in Egypt following the 1967 defeat coincided with the growth of radical movements worldwide during this periodfor example, the peace movement in the United States of America and anti-colonial guerrilla wars in Latin America and Vietnam. Many Egyptian activists saw these movements as successful peoples movements and were impressed by them.

Until the mid-1970s, the predominant political trends within the student movement were Marxist and nationalist. Many of todays advocacy NGO activists over the age of 45 were active within the student movement and, simultaneously, members of one of the Marxist parties. In practice, the differences between Marxism and nationalism were difficult to ascertain, as demonstrated by the following comment of one NGO activist regarding her student activism in the late 1960s and early 1970s:

I believed myself to be Marxist, which meant taking things to their radical limits, that is, we were staunchly anti-West and anti-Israel and very militant on social issues.

The question of Israeli occupation of Arab lands after 1967 dominated the student movement at the expense of calls for greater democracy. Another former student leader and NGO activist remembers:

Our de facto attitude as students was to defend patriotism and democracy. But we lived the contradictions of this because our leaders used patriotism against democracy. Because of Nasserism, we were led to believe that democracy was a bourgeois idea. Marxist thought supported this. And within the movement, we were unable to settle our differences democratically. So we were not good democrats.

The emphasis within the movement on national liberation was a factor in its weakening after 1973. In that year, the Egyptian army, under President Anwar al-Sadats command, won a relative victory for Egypt by regaining the Egyptian lands occupied by Israel after 1967. This situation satisfied the majority of Egyptians that the Nations dignity had been restored and took away much of the impetus for the student movement. Without the issue of regaining occupied lands, the student movement lost its principle raison detre and began to disintegrate.

Sadat capitalized on the boost to his popularity from the 1973 victory by making radical changes in the ideological and economic orientation of the Egyptian regime. In 1974 Sadat introduced Law 43, or the policy of al-infitah (Open Door Economic Policy), which attempted to resolve the material contradictions of the post-colonial hegemony by capitalizing on the changing regional and global political economy. The oil boom of the 1970s brought an influx of capital into Egypt as a result of investment from oil-producing countries and the remittances of Egyptian workers migrating to work in these countries. This capital was invested in the public sector and used to finance the levels of consumption associated with the Nasserist period (Ayubi 1995: 219). In addition, economic crisis in the North from the late 1960s onwards led many companies there to invest in Third World countries, particularly through the establishment of transnational corporations (TNCs) and joint ventures (Hoogvelt 1997: 4647). Al-infitah policy was designed to exploit this environment by attracting capital from the newly-rich oil states of the Gulf, enticing Western investment in Egyptian production units through joint ventures and encouraging private sector growth (Richards and Waterbury 1991: 241).

This economic turnabout necessitated a shift in political alliances away from the USSR and radical Arab regimes towards a closer relationship with the United States of America and the conservative regimes of the Gulf states (ibid: 241). Domestically, Sadat attempted to create an alliance with the national private sector bourgeoisie through the establishment of the EgyptianAmerican Businessmens Council in 1975 (Thabit 1996: 123). The shift towards domestic and international capital came at the expense of some of the social justice measures associated with Nasser, particularly those related to guaranteed employment and workplace rights (Pripstein Posusney 1997: 176). In order to compensate for the reduction of measures that sustained the popular basis of the regime, Sadat also undertook a controlled political liberalization process with the introduction of pluralist elections within the Arab Socialist Union in 1976 (under the manabir or platforms system), followed by the introduction of a multi-party system in 1977 (Law 40/1977).

The reintroduction of democracy (albeit limited) received mixed reactions from civil society. On the one hand, it provided new political opportunities for those who were already members of the Arab Socialist Union but disagreed with Sadats policies (that is, communists and Nasserists). On the other hand, the General Trade Union Federation regarded the break-up of the Arab Socialist Union as a further threat to the gains made by workers in the post-colonial period and a further disenfranchisement of labour from the political decision-making process (Adli 1993: 22024; 31516). The limited democratic experiment failed to compensate for the withdrawal of the socio-economic benefits granted to society in the post-colonial period. The January 1977 food riots, in which people spontaneously took to the streets to protest against the removal of subsidies on bread and other essential food items, could be read as the culmination of opposition to al-infitah and as another example of a protest movement seeking to restore the terms of the post-colonial hegemony.

In addition to popular protests against the removal of food subsidies, there was sharp criticism among many elements of civil society of Sadats visit to Israel in 1977 and the signing of a peace treaty in 1978. The food riots represented a protest against the erosion of the material benefits of the post-colonial hegemony, whilst criticism of Sadats peace overtures represented a protest against the erosion of the ideological elements of the post-colonial hegemony. Paradoxically, Sadats peace with Israel has been understood by many observers as an attempt to solve Egypts continuing economic problems by attracting US aid, thereby securing the material conditions of the post-colonial hegemony. Yet, the peace treaty was clearly in conflict with the pan-Arab/anti-Zionist elements of patriarchal nationalism.

In response to the opposition, Sadat employed the coercive power of the state to silence protests by imprisoning critics. Various public figures, including writers, journalists, political activists and religious figures were imprisoned by Sadat after 1977, including some current NGO activists, culminating in the imprisonment of over 1000 public figures in September 1981. In addition, Sadat attempted to strengthen corporatist structures with the introduction of Law 33/1978the Law on the Protection of the Internal Front and Social Peacefollowed by Law 95/1980the Law on the Protection of Morals from Shamethat gave the authorities considerable powers in defining the limits of permissible criticism of the regime (Ayubi 1989: 4).Meanwhile, from the mid-1970s onwards, the nationalistMarxist student movement continued to weaken, whilst the political Islamist movement grew in strength on Egyptian campuses. This movement was partly encouraged by Sadat to counterbalance his opponents among the Nasserists and leftists. On the other hand, the growth in this trend was significantly funded by the oil wealth of the religiously conservative oil-producing states. Moreover, the existence of Israel in the region as a religious state and strong regional power fuelled the promotion of increased religiosity within Egypt on the basis of strengthening the Nation against the Jewish state. One NGO activist and former student activist notes that by 1980 the political Islamist trend was dominant on the campus of Cairo University, whilst the nationalistsecular club, Usrat Misr, had practically become an underground organization (although nationalist and leftist activists continued to exist in smaller numbers within Egyptian universities).

The ebbing of the student movement had its effect on other forms of public activism for that generation. Many of the underground Marxist organizations began to break up. Some student activists withdrew almost completely from public activism, feeling disillusioned and disorientated. Al-infitah, the peace with Israel, the shift in international alliances towards the United States of America as well as the growth in political Islam and the failure of secularist ideologies to mobilize people, forced a re-examination of many of the political and ideological beliefs of these activists. It became clear that Egypt was not on a linear course of development towards Arab socialism. With al-infitah and the peace with Israel, the sky fell on my head. This was a time of much bitterness. The profound feelings of despair and frustration felt by many members of civil society in relation to the failure of Arab socialism and the 1967 defeat led to an industry of crisis discourse (Sharawi 1994: 212). Many activists took time out to read, pursue careers or doctoral studies abroad.

During this time out, many activists reflected upon their political-ideological beliefs. Some began to revise their nationalist or Marxist ideas regarding social change in order to incorporate the concept of democracy. For some activists, this revision was a result of their negative experiences of participating in Marxist politics through their membership of underground organizations.

From the late 1970s onwards, these [Marxist] groups began to fold. There was a lack of experience in organization building and we suffered from factionalism, accusing each other of opportunism. In 1978, I left the Marxist group. I was tired of the secrecy and my relations with my comrades were bad because I had developed truly democratic principles critiquing Marxism.

Others developed a critique of Marxism in general to encompass a more pluralistic approach.

The Soviet model was becoming more and more ugly I began to question all sorts of theoretical concepts. This questioning led me to rethink socialism as an extreme form of democracy rather than a dictatorship of the proletariat. One harmful effect of the vanguard party idea is how it regarded popular movements. I believed that we should be encouraging people to organize themselves independently. I dont believe there should be a single party claiming to be the vanguard. Ultimately, a revolution is a function of a common struggle of different, independent groups with different interests (workers, women, residents, consumers, etc.).

For others, the experience of travelling to the West enabled them to see liberal democracy in practice. One NGO activist speaks about her experience of travelling and its impact on her leftist ideas. This experience was typical of others:

When I was a student activist, I was a leftist. I didnt believe that democracy was a bourgeois idea like other leftists. I thought that liberties were important and some people therefore accused me of being a liberal. Two experiences reinforced this idea in me. First, I went on a trip to the USSR and saw that dictatorship was bad. Second, my experience in the UK [for the purpose of studying for a Ph.D.] of living in a liberal society and taking part in debates at university. I saw politicians debating students. I saw the value of free speech.

One activist had a less positive experience in the course of her travels. As a doctor in Lebanon during the civil war, she witnessed daily atrocities, which led her to question the validity of political ideologies and stress the need to promote human rights first and foremost.

The [Lebanese] civil war was full of lessons about how people can be blindly cruel to each other under political slogans there were six to eight Marxist groups fighting against each other It showed how ideologies can make you blind to humanity. I felt that there should be at least a bottom line of humanity in this conflict.

After the establishment of a multi-party system, some former student activists joined the Tagammu party but all of those I spoke to quickly left for various reasons. Some spoke of their political differences with the partys leadership (which was drawn from the older generation), finding them too conservative or undemocratic. The party membership of one activist was frozen for attempting to reform the party. Another rejected working within a political party on the basis that she resented being forced to work with people whose ideas she did not agree. Many others objected to the practice of party politics. They felt that the Tagammu leadership had made too many compromises with the government in an attempt to gain more influence. Other former student activists who experimented with activism within professional syndicates found that, like political party work, this milieu was controlled by an older generation that was too integrated into the system and, consequently, unable to effectively oppose it. Some women activists found the party hierarchy too patriarchal, fellow party members too sexist and that issues concerning womens equality were belittled (see next chapter for a further discussion of women activists experiences).

The older generation occupying leadership positions within the political parties and professional syndicates came of age at the height of Nassers achievements. Most of them had been members of the Arab Socialist Union and their location within existing political structures put them in a good position to take advantage of the political opening under Sadat. This generation also reconsidered its relation to Nasserism. However, rather than suffering from the ideological crisis felt by former student activists, many of this generation were able to continue their activism through the re-established Egyptian Communist Party, the multi-party system (particularly, the Tagammu party), anti-normalization activities (after 1978), their writings, professional syndicates, or a combination of these. This generation owed their social mobility to Nasserism and were much more assimilated into the post-colonial hegemonic project than the student activists of the late 1960s and early 1970s. Those in leadership positions of the Tagammu party felt that a leftist political party, working within the system could make substantial gains through calling for incremental reforms of the system.

Participation in a nominal multi-party democracy rendered relevant questions about the role of public freedoms in sustaining a democracy. Consequently, after 1976, many of the older generation of activists became members of Civil Liberties Committees (Lagnat al-hurriyat)one of which existed within the Bar Association and the other within the Tagammu party. The latter consisted of members across the party political spectrum and liberal professions. The aim of the committees was to protest government arrests and the torture of individuals for political activities. These issues became particularly pressing after 1977, as Sadat sought to muzzle dissent by introducing various anti-democratic laws and, finally, in September 1981, arresting practically all opposition voices.

In comparison to Sadat, President Husni Mubarak appeared to respond to the ongoing demands of civil society for increased political participation. The 1980s witnessed a decrease of press censorship and attempts to include the political opposition in consultations. This reinvigorated public life. The government ratified a number of international human rights covenants in 1982, incorporating these into Egyptian law. The blatantly coercive elements of Sadats rule, such as the large-scale arrests of government critics (except for the Islamists), were relaxed. Some of the articles of the Law of Shame were repealed, whilst the Law on the Protection of the Internal Front was repealed in its entirety in 1994. Political observers were optimistic about the onward progress of a political liberalization process (for example, see, Aly 1987). The peace with Israel was frozen, resulting in Egypts return to the Arab fold. Nevertheless, these were minor concessions in view of the fact that a state of emergency was introduced following Sadats assassination in 1981. The emergency law has considerably narrowed political freedoms and given the security apparatus the power to stop peaceful protests and other types of gatherings (such as party rallies and strikes).

A resurrection of the question of national liberation following the 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon revitalized some of the former student activists into public work. However, rather than working in political parties or under the banner of particular political ideologies, some activists began working in communities as a way of re-linking ourselves to the people. They became involved in establishing literacy classes and community centres. This approach to public activism represented a change in tactics from the grand slogans and protests of the student movement.

We wanted to make a project to deal with social problems and take an active role in building alternative models, not just criticizing the government. We wanted to empower people to solve their problems as part of engendering change.

Another activist implicitly identifies the problem of the student activism in the 1970s as constituting an impetus towards a change in the approach of her generation towards public activism:

In the beginning of the 1980s, a lot of the left started to review their traditional type of activity, which had centred around al-tabshir (advocacy/proselytization), which was mainly underground work: printing newsletters and leaflets and waiting for a strike so they could distribute them. This sort of work lacked continuity and lacked links with the people. these movements became weak. So, thought shifted to being where people were, that is, in the syndicates and in communities.

The dire economic situation in which the Egyptian government found itself during the 1980s, helped to encourage societal demand for alternative models of provision of goods and services. By 1985, Egypt was in the midst of a severe economic crisis, partly the result of al-infitah and partly a result of the drop in world oil prices. Instead of promoting exports, al-infitah had fuelled imports, exacerbating Egypts balance of trade deficit. External debt rose from approximately $3 billion in 1974 to $24 billion in 1985 (Richards and Waterbury 1991: 242). At the beginning of the 1980s, oil prices fell sharply, costing Egypt 11 per cent in gross domestic product (GDP) (Handoussa 1991: 4). The government sector was hit much harder than the private sector by the loss of oil income, since the oil sector is state-owned (ibid: 4). As a result, the government was forced to cut its expenditure in order to be able to pay for its growing debts. From the mid-1980s, government expenditure on consumer subsidies was reduced from 13 per cent to 6 per cent of GDP and public investment in real terms was also cut (ibid: 11).

The regime was again thrown into crisis and the social justice element of the post-colonial hegemonic consensus continued to be eroded. Public sector recruitment rates fell, pushing up unemployment from 2.5 per cent in 1975 to 10.5 per cent in 1987, according to the Labour Force Sample Survey (cit. in ibid: 67). From the mid-1980s, real incomes fell for all wage earners, particularly those working in the state sectors (Zaytoun 1991: 24849). From 1974 to 1987, the Consumer Price Index (usually taken to underestimate the degree of price increases) rose almost 600 per cent for urban areas and almost 500 per cent for rural areas (ibid: 251).

The states role as principal provider of employment and welfare services to its citizens was severely compromised by the fiscal crisis of the 1980s. Consequently, Egyptian citizens could no longer depend on the state to be the only provider of education, healthcare and employment. Instead, people found alternative sources for these goods and services from the private, civil and informal sectors. There is substantial evidence that the informal sector became a significant provider of employment during this period (for example, see, Singerman 1997: 195). The private and civil sectors (that is, non-governmental organizations and private foundations, particularly of a religious character) became important providers of welfare services, although they did not overtake the state. The de-centring of the state in peoples social and economic lives also contributed to a crisis in the post-colonial hegemonic order and led to a rethinking among some activists not only about their political ideas but also about the role of the state in social change.

A variety of responses and positions emerged from between the cracks of the post-colonial hegemony. Some activists continued to work within corporatist structures in order to reform the system from within. Their demands centred around a rejection of peace with Israel and opposition to US domination in the region, a restoration of the social justice measures associated with the heyday of Nasserism, including an end to privatization polices begun under Sadat, and the further introduction of democratic reforms. Others completely rethought their political ideas and approaches to public activism. Some rejected the grand narratives of ideologies such as Marxism, whilst others tried to overcome the isolation they had experienced whilst they had been working within Marxist groups. Activists experimented with different types of public activismfrom working within the corporatist arrangements of legitimate political parties and professional syndicates, to newer forms of activism, such as community projects and grassroots initiatives. Some were dissatisfied with their experiences of working within existing corporatist structures and preferred to work outside state structures.

After 1981, the political environment became more conducive to new forms of activism. Not only did the Mubarak regime continue the political liberalization process that had stalled under Sadat, but the upsurge in political Islam and, particularly, violent Islamist groups after 1981, made the government less hostile to the creation of new, secular-oriented, civil associations (although, it did not encourage such organizations). The growth of political Islam also facilitated joint work between secular-oriented individuals who had not previously cooperated with ease, namely, different generations of activists or different factions of the old communist movement.

In addition to the transformations that occurred within post-colonial Egypt, there was also the demonstrative effect of the establishment of human rights organizations across the Arab world. The Moroccan League of Human Rights (affiliated with the Istiqlal Party) was established in 1972, the politically independent Tunisian League of Human Rights in 1977 and three Algerian organizations were formed during the 1980s (for more details of the emergence of North African human rights groups, see, Waltz 1995). In 1983, a meeting of concerned Arab intellectuals in Limassol created the Arab Organization for Human Rights, of which the EOHR became a member organization.

Despite the changes occurring on the level of individual thinking, the changing political/socio-economic environment in Egypt and the creation of new organizations across the Arab world, the creation of the Egyptian Organization for Human Rights in 1985, was represented, by the activists I spoke to, as a continuation of, rather than a break with, their previous public work. The EOHR was established by Egyptian intellectuals and public figures under the umbrella of the Arab Organization for Human Rights. The objectives of the organization, as laid down by its founders, were to advocate respect for human rights as laid down in the various UN human rights covenants and the Egyptian constitution and to defend those whose human rights had been violated. The opening of the declaration of the EOHRs constitution was framed in strongly patrioticnationalist language, evoking the struggle against imperialism and the affirmation of an Egyptian and Arab peoples.

While dangers surround Egypt and the entire Arab region, the Egyptian citizen feels the weight of restrictions imposed on his actions, his freedom of expression, his attempt to emancipate his country from all forms of foreign influence and economic, political and military dependence. Hence, methods should be enacted to reinforce justice, freedom and authenticity of the Egyptian/Arab peoples (EOHR 1985).

The above excerpt of the founding charter links the crisis of the Nation (foreign influence, dependency and identity) with the lack of freedom and justice in Egypt and the Arab world. The charter reflected the ideological origins of its founders, who were principally from leftist and nationalist backgrounds. These activists considered civil rights to be an historical imperative whose achievement would resolve the post-colonial crisis.

The leftist and nationalist political backgrounds of the activists who founded the EOHR also played an important role in building the institution. Shared political backgrounds and access to political struggles in society, for example, the workers and student movements, constituted an important element in bringing together progressive activists to establish the EOHR in its early years. Many of the early members of the EOHR knew each other from previous political activities, particularly membership of the Arab Socialist Union and Marxist groups. They were able to mobilize networks of other activists from leftist and nationalist circles to build up the membership of the organization in its early days.

The iron and steel workers strike of 1989 was a particularly important turning point in the organizations impact on civil society. A substantial number of current NGO activists first became aware of the EOHR because of its solidarity campaign in defence of the striking workers. The organization was able to reach a large number of activists involved in the strike through sending EOHR lawyers to defend those who were arrested and tortured. This boosted the profile and credibility of the organization. One activist, who was previously a member of the EOHR but now works in a centre for the support of victims of torture, remembers nostalgically this moment in the organizations history:

The EOHR was involved in the iron and steel riots, and people were getting arrested, including some friends. At that time, the EOHR was really an organization that was working against all odds. It hardly had any staff. Their involvement in 1989 really brought it out and enabled people to see. You knew all the time that it was there but it was low profile. Then, all of a sudden, with the riots, it seemed like the EOHR could become a coordinator for all sorts of initiatives from people who were concerned with the human rights situation generally. The idea was becoming more widespread among people, even if it was just among intellectuals. More and more people were coming to meetings It was a nice time.

The activism of the EOHR during this moment is contrasted with the ineffectiveness of political parties and trade unions. Indeed, the official trade union federation condemned the iron and steel strikes (El Shafie 1995: 35). With regard to political parties, one former EOHR member argues:

In 1989, we organized a strong solidarity campaign for the iron and steel strikes. We were not like political parties, who were weak and had their own political interests and their support was based on their political calculations with the government and according to the issues. The political parties would support some issues and not others according to their own interests. The EOHR had a principled platform that was accessible to all.

As a result of its campaign, two members of the organizations board were detained and tortured. One of the board members recounts that, whilst waiting in the Nasr City police station, just after his arrest, he met a group of radical Marxist student activists who were also being held for their involvement in the strikes. After they were all transferred to prison, the student activists began to ask the EOHR board member about human rights and to voice their reservations in terms of human rights being bourgeois rights that support capitalist power relations and hide social inequalities. However, one of the student activists, the late Hisham Mubarak, began to take the concept of human rights seriously and entered into an in-depth discussion with the board member over the course of their confinement.

Hisham Mubaraks change of heart from rejection to tentative acceptance of the relevance of the concept of human rights may be partly due to the oratory skills of the EOHR board member. However, many of Hishams friends and colleagues recount how his terrible experience of torture in prison, which left him with partial hearing in his right ear, fuelled his belief in the necessity of a framework that guarantees dignity for all human beings. After his release, he began working for the EOHR, eventually becoming the executive director in 1991. In 1993, he won the Reebok international prize for human rights and used the money to establish a legal aid centre in 1994 (the Centre for Human Rights Legal Aid). Sadly, in 1998, he suffered a heart attack and passed away but his commitment to the struggle for human rights lives on in the posthumously named, Hisham Mubarak Law Centre.

Conclusion

As noted in the previous chapter, there is a body of literature that correlates an upsurge in civil society activity with democratization. This chapter has demonstrated how Egypts first independent human rights organization (the EOHR) emerged in the context of an upsurge in civil society activity. From 1967 onwards, the student movement, political parties and the Civil Liberties Committees, among others, were all involved in voicing demands for greater democracy. The establishment of the EOHR was understood by its founders and early members as a continuation of this democratization movement. Indeed, many of the early EOHR members were, simultaneously, members of political parties, professional syndicates or the Civil Liberties Committees.

Yet, it is because of the fact that the EOHR was so embedded within Egyptian civil society that we cannot assume that the organization would, from its inception, contribute to a democratization process (as a certain body of literature argues). The first part of this chapter demonstrates how civil society has been integrally linked to the reproduction of the post-colonial consensus. Indeed, the accounts of the activists I spoke to, in addition to the existing literature on various currents within civil society, from the communist movement to legal political parties, demonstrate that calls for democracy in the post-colonial period have been linked to desires to restore those elements of the hegemonic consensus that are perceived to have been dismantled by the military defeat at the hands of Israel, al-infitah, the strategic alliance with the United States of America and the peace treaty with Israel.

Whilst members of the EOHR, and other civil society organizations calling for greater democracy, were opposed to the coercive practices of the post-colonial regime, they continued to support the material, moralideological and, to a large degree, the institutional elements of the post-colonial consensus. This paradoxical relationship between oppositional demands and the post-colonial hegemonic project is implicitly recognized by one NGO activist with a history of leftist and student activism:

I had always kept a distance from Nasserism. I was involved with the debates within the Nasserist youth organizations but from outside. I argued against Nasserism but I was still assimilated in the dream of Nasserism.

The post-colonial hegemonic consensus (recognized above as the dream of Nasserism) has underwritten the authoritarianism and coercion of the post-colonial regime. Therefore, there was, in this case, a paradoxical relationship between civil society organizations calling for greater democracy and the impact of the political strategy of these organizations on the potential for democratization. To the degree that their restorative demands supported the post-colonial regime, we may also conclude that an upsurge in civil society activity does not threaten state power (as another body of literature argues).

Nevertheless, despite the large degree of continuity in the hegemonic consensus among civil society, the post-colonial order was severely dented by the 1967 defeat. As demonstrated above, many individual activists embarked upon a period of reflection and reconsideration of the forms of activism in which they were involved. This led to the creation of new models for activism, namely, grassroots and community projects. The EOHR may be considered an example of this new model of activism and, therefore, may also be considered to represent a break from the post-colonial hegemonic consensus. The creation of the EOHR demonstrates that the post-colonial hegemonic project is not a totalizing project in that it does allow for opposition to emerge from inside.

Yet, despite the shared aspiration for a new model of activism in the pursuit of greater democracy among the activists who established the EOHR, it is not possible to conceive of the creation of a human rights organization as the logical outcome of a unified strategy among civil society for the purpose of pressuring the regime for greater political freedoms. Rather, the different experiences of different generations of activists demonstrate that there was no unified strategy for achieving democracy. One can detect two principal trends in strategy that approximate to different generations of activists. The trend among activists who were old enough to have participated in the Arab Socialist Union prior to 1967 was, in general, to work within corporatist institutions. Meanwhile, the trend among activists who had been part of the student movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s was, in general, to work outside corporatist institutions. This difference in strategy was the starting point for disagreements among members of the EOHR over the meaning of human rights work in an Egyptian context and its relation to civil society demands for democratization. These struggles over meaning would lead to the diversification of the human rights NGO community in Egypt. The next chapter examines the differences among NGO activists in their strategies towards advocating greater rights for Egyptian citizens as part of a vision of a more democratic Egyptian polity and society.

Intermediate federations

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MOSA

Private associations and foundations

Governor; Governorate Council; Governorate Director General of Social Affairs

Specialized

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General Federation

Executive

! = appointed

* = elected

Key:

Regional

For an in-depth study of the conflicts and struggles involved in this negotiation, see Beattie 1994.

ODonnell explained changes in Latin American governance according to changes in political coalitions, necessitated by certain models of economic development. ISI necessitated the production abilities of the working class and peasants and the consumption abilities of the urban population. In order to incorporate these social forces into a domestic coalition that would support this economic model of development, the government implemented populist measures and extended benefits to the organizations of these social forces. This system of governance was termed inclusionary corporatism. The exhaustion of this system, due to internal and external factors, led to the implementation of an export-led economic strategy. This model required attracting private business investment, both domestic and foreign. In order to secure the cooperation of these social forces, the government had to withdraw the populist measures and weaken the trade unions, professional associations and other organizations representing the interests of the popular sector. This often meant the withdrawal of civil and political rights. This system was termed exclusionary corporatism.

The social contract refers to the political exchange between regime and citizens, in which citizens concede civil and political rights in return for the regimes granting of social and economic rights. When the economy is expanding, the regime can afford to extend social and economic benefits and the population remains politically loyal to the regime. However, when the economy begins to deteriorate, the regime cannot afford to finance social and economic rights. Therefore, it must extend civil and political rights in compensation or face political unrest.

See Kienle 2001 for further details.

See Egyptian Human Development Report 1997/1998, Ch. 5, for details of targeted government social expenditure. The Egyptian government attempts to continue providing socio-economic benefits, albeit to a more targeted section of the population, backfired in July 2001, when thousands of unemployed university and institute graduates staged demonstrations in various parts of Egypt against a government decree restricting job openings in the public sector to those under the age of 28 (Leila 2001).

At the time of writing in September 2001, Law 32/1964 was still in force. There have been government plans to amend the law. In May 1999, the government managed to introduce a new law (Law 153/1999) but this was struck down by the Supreme Constitutional Court in June 2000. The government is currently drafting a new law.

For details of the corporatization of other civil society institutions, see Bianchi 1989.

The following discussion of Law 32/1964 draws on studies by Salem 1991 and Ibrahim 1996b. See, also, Zubaida 1992.

Approximately 546 at the current rate of exchange.

The fact that associations attempt to resist state hegemony through informal mechanisms would support James Scotts work (1990). However, contrary to Scott, I argue that this type of infrapolitics does not undermine hegemony. The informal networks rely on state bureaucrats and, in this way, maintain the moral-ideological supremacy of the state (even if individuals within associations intend the opposite).

The above numbers 1, 2 and 3 give the executive wide scope to prevent the formation of associations since the proscribed activities are not enumerated in any other law. Numbers 4 and 5 refer to activities that are described in the laws relating to professional syndicates, trade unions and political parties, respectively.

Among those persons explicitly barred in Law 32/1964 from participating in an association were those deprived of their political rights, referring to the official political exclusion of former aristocracy and other persona non grata in post-1952 Egypt. In todays Egypt, persona non grata are barred unofficially from certain activities through administrative harassment. For example, feminist activist and long-term government critic, Dr Nawal El-Saadawi, has faced a number of administrative obstacles in forming a new association. For example, her first application was rejected on the grounds that the address given as the associations headquarters (her own apartment) was unfit socially or healthwise (a reason provided by Law 32/1964, Article 12).

One member of an NGO governed by Law 32/1964 recounted to me how a board member had received an individual grant to attend a conference in the US and had not thought that she needed prior permission because the NGO was not funding the trip. When MOSA discovered this fact, the board member was obliged to refund the grant money to MOSA or otherwise face prosecution.

AWSA was administratively closed in 1992 on charges of financial irregularities. However, it is widely believed that the closure was punishment for Nawal El-Saadawis vocal opposition to Egyptian involvement in the Gulf War. MOSA transferred AWSAs funds to an Islamic womens charity. For further details of the events surrounding the closure of AWSA, see, El-Saadawi 1992.

All cases were suspended after Law 32/1964 was amended by Law 153/1999. In July 2001, an administrative court ruled that the EOHR should be granted a licence according to Law 153/1999 (for details, see, Howeidy 2001). This is despite the fact that this law was repealed in June 2000, following a decision of the Supreme Constitutional Court and, at the time of writing, Law 32/1964 is again in effect. MOSA could still appeal the decision.

For an example of how this co