Prominent Lebanese militant Georges Abdallah arrived at Rafic Hariri Airport in Beirut on July 25, 2024, amid Israel's escalating genocide in the Strip. Speaking on resistance to Israel, he mentioned Egypt—not to speak about its regime—but to its people, whose democracy movement he connected as the prerequisite to freedom for all.
Indeed, Egypt has historically held a profound position across the Arab world, especially in Palestine. Palestinians in Gaza post online that the betrayal of all Arabs falls on one scale, while the betrayal of the Egyptians sits on another. Such frustrations stem from the deep cultural and historical ties between the two peoples.
While the Camp David Accords normalized diplomatic relations between Egypt and Israel in an attempt to distance the two societies, the strategy has not succeeded. Even as daily economic pressures have dominated Egyptians' lives, the Palestinian cause remains present. This was true across the Arab world, as Israel's genocide in Gaza quickly returned the issue back to the forefront, reminding Egyptians that Gaza and its people remain a critical piece of a shared whole.
Why, then, have Egyptians apparently abandoned that concept, as some claim? To be clear, they did not "abandon" Palestinians in the strictest sense of the word. Instead, Egyptians occupy a middle space, simultaneously revolting within exceedingly restricted bounds while attempting to avoid actions that might cross the regime's red lines. In this context, efforts to influence what is occurring in Gaza are notable but limited. The scale of the genocide produces action, but these efforts ultimately fail under the magnitude of repression imposed by Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi.
Egypt has historically held a profound position across the Arab world, especially in Palestine.
- Ahmed Abdelhalim
Still, many Egyptians have attempted to institute change through mass demonstrations involving thousands, including on Oct. 20, 2023—less than two weeks after Israel's genocide began. Thousands of Egyptians rose up and broke into Cairo's iconic Tahrir Square, home to the country's original Arab Spring protests, chanting for hours despite a heavy security presence. The regime quickly regained control, forcibly dispersing the demonstration and arresting dozens. In the days that followed, authorities launched a sweeping campaign targeting hundreds of Egyptians for their active and material—not merely rhetorical—support for Palestine. Many remain imprisoned to this day.
Arrests went beyond the streets. The regime detained students from universities, even pulling activists from their homes for collecting donations for Palestinians in Gaza. Those demanding an end to Egyptian ties with Israel faced a similar fate. Thus, the street's attempts failed to compel the regime to end its complicity and coordination with Israel, halt the genocide, allow humanitarian aid to enter Gaza or force Cairo to adopt a stronger political and diplomatic stance against Israel's actions in Gaza.
Yet these failures should not land on the shoulders of a similarly oppressed society. The Egyptian people endured repeated rounds of violence from the Sisi regime that likely contributed to the lack of sustained street action capable of pressuring the state on Gaza. In this regard, from 2011 onward, Egyptians faced repression and violence unprecedented in their modern history. Incidents during and after the January Revolution speak to the horrors Egyptians endured: The Mohamed Mahmoud protests of November 2011, the Port Said Stadium disaster in February 2012 and the violent dispersal and subsequent massacre of the Rabaa and Nahda sit-ins in August 2013, which ended Egypt's short-lived democratic experiment.
The impact of these moments on the Egyptian psyche cannot be understated. Still, from January 2011-16, Egyptians did not leave the streets, living in a state of constant revolution and repression. This violence resulted in thousands of deaths and hundreds of enforced disappearances annually, with hundreds of thousands of citizens having entered and exited prisons on political charges since July 2013. The regime currently holds upwards of 65,000 political prisoners, placing Egypt among the highest in global repression indices. Other forms of repression, including constant surveillance, compound this dynamic.
The Egyptian people endured repeated rounds of violence from the Sisi regime that likely contributed to the lack of sustained street action capable of pressuring the state on Gaza.
- Ahmed Abdelhalim
This violence, alongside widespread and worsening impoverishment, has significantly exhausted Egyptians, creating a sense of cynicism that helped erode opposition politics and social organizations. This shift has prevented the emergence of any major collective movement, whether focused on internal or external demands—including efforts to stop Israel's war on Gaza.
Nevertheless, some individual revolutionary cries have persisted, signaling a shift in the Egyptian revolutionary identity from a collective one to one driven by individuals. At times, observers may see someone periodically shouting alone in the street for Palestine. People notice them and may feel the urge to join, but they hold back. After years of exhaustion, they know with certainty the cost of even this small act of defiance.
Generational differences compound these pressures. Revolution is no longer a central concern for many Egyptians, and younger generations are less inclined to engage in revolutionary politics. They tend to embrace different values: individualism and consumption in all their manifestations. Instead of collectivism and political reform, many pursue personal, monetary advancement.
The impact is clear: political activity has languished. Revolution does not happen spontaneously, instead requiring work, vision and ideas built over years within a community.
Instead, fear of chaos and impoverishment have produced acceptance of the very regime that continues to harm society. Many Egyptians have internalized the idea that living a humiliating life under tyranny is better than living a humiliating life under chaos. Conflicts in Syria, Libya, Yemen and Sudan reinforce this belief, allowing the regime to play on that fear. Consider Sisi's constant reminder: "Isn't it better than being like Syria and Iraq?"
Yet, herein lies the root of the problem: The Egyptian regime—not its people—has let down Gaza. The United States and Israel have managed to deploy Cairo, by its own will, as both coordinator and silent witness to the genocide. Washington, in particular, has long understood that empowering Cairo's repressive apparatus not only strengthens its imperial influence over the regime and broader region, but suppresses the very street diametrically opposed to its harmful policies in Palestine and across the Middle East and North Africa.
But the Egyptian people do not accept Israel's war of annihilation, nor the daily and tragic manifestations inflicted on the peoples of the Middle East as a result of the West's colonial project. Yet, this rejection alone cannot overcome the exhaustion, fear, impoverishment and repression that prevent real mobilization and meaningful change.
It is natural for a people to catch their breath after years of destruction. Rebuilding takes time, just as reform and revolution require years of work and organizing. For the sake of freedom and liberation—from Egypt to Palestine—tens of thousands of martyrs have fallen over the years. Indeed, Palestine has been present at every major revolutionary moment in Egypt's modern history and likely will remain so.
But for real change and justice to occur, greater resilience and solidarity are necessary to pressure the regime and, in turn, the United States and Israel. The hope is that the silence preventing such change is broken today—not tomorrow.
The views and positions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of DAWN.
