Under Hosni Mubarak, Egypt’s Coptic Christians (who make up an estimated 12 per cent of the population) often complained of discrimination. They could not build or renovate churches without a presidential decree, never reached high positions in the army or police and were rarely appointed to senior government positions. Christians also had to settle for token representation in government and parliament (there were just two Christian ministers in the last cabinet before Mubarak was toppled).

In the last decade before Mubarak’s ousting, sectarian tensions flared sporadically in Egypt and those responsible for acts of violence against Copts were rarely brought to justice. Many Egyptians believe that a New Year’s Eve church bombing in Alexandria that left 21 people dead (mostly Christian worshippers who had been attending New Year’s Eve mass), fuelled the anger that led to the January 2011 revolt that erupted a few weeks later.

Egypt’s Coptic Christians were among the hundreds of thousands of protesters in Tahrir Square in January 2011 demanding their rights as equal citizens. The rise of Islamists to power in Egypt post-revolution has raised concern among Christians that they could face further marginalisation and harassment.

During the presidential campaign, Muslim Brotherhood candidate Mohamed Morsi had promised to be “a leader for all Egyptians.” He also vowed to appoint a Coptic-Christian Vice President and to “protect the rights of minorities.” But those promises have all fallen flat.

A February demonstration in Tahrir Square against the Muslim Brotherhood

Last November, after violent clashes between Islamists and opposition protesters outside the Ittihadeya Presidential Palace over a Constitutional Declaration giving him absolute powers, Morsi addressed a rally organized by his Islamist supporters , accusing his opponents of being”‘paid thugs”. That appearance outside the palace earned Morsi criticism from liberal opposition parties and Christians who said that he had shown that he was the “President of the Islamists, rather than the elected leader of all Egyptians.”

Morsi has also reneged on his promise to appoint a Christian Vice President, appointing instead a Christian presidential aide — Samir Morcos — (the sole Christian out of a total of 21 presidential assistants) who resigned a few months later in protest at Morsi’s controversial decree. Morcos later said that the President had not consulted him before making the decision.

Egypt’s Christians also complain that Morsi has also done little to protect them against extremists’ threats..

Churches have continued to be torched and death threats by extremists have forced many Christians to flee their homes and at times — their villages — en masse. In the past year alone, Christians have been forcibly evacuated from the Alexandria district of Amreya and from Dahshour, a village 40 kms south of Cairo following sectarian tensions in their neighborhoods.

More recently, Christian families in the North Sinai border town of Rafah have had to flee to neighboring towns after receiving death threats from extremists. In October 2011, 27 Coptic Christians were killed by military and security forces during a protest staged outside the State Television building in downtown Cairo by Christians demanding government protection for their churches. Video footage of what has since come to be known as the “Maspero Massacre” showed Armoured Personnel Carriers running over protesters and live ammunition being used against them. Most of the victims died of gun-shot wounds .

Almost a year and a half later, no-one has been held responsible for the deaths. Instead, two Copts — Michael Naguib and Michael Shaker — have been convicted for their involvement in the violence after being charged with stealing a machine gun from the military and causing damage to public property. They have each been sentenced to three years in prison.

A new Islamist-backed constitution passed in a popular referendum in December 2012 has fueled fears of further alienation of Egypt’s religious minorities. Rights advocates say the new charter “restricts freedom of belief by limiting the right to practice one’s religion to the adherents of Abrahamic religions, thus discriminating against citizens on the basis of religion and undermining equal citizenship.”

Meanwhile, Article 2, stipulating that “the principles of Islamic Sharia Law are the main source of legislation” has remained unchanged from the previous Constitution, dashing hopes for a secular state aspired to by liberal opposition forces and Christians during the uprising. The only change in that provision is that Al Azhar — the highest authority in Sunni Islam — has now been tasked with interpreting those principles, a decision that critics say “indoctrinates a specific religious school of thought.”

Furthermore, liberals and Christians have expressed concern that an article which provides that “the state and society oversee the commitment to the genuine character of the Egyptan family ” may open the door for enforcement of a hardline vision of society by morality police. While the provision has had little impact in the past, Christians and liberal activists fear it may take on a new meaning under the Islamist regime. And last but not least, an article that guarantees freedom of expression and opinion has been undercut by other provisions that prohibit defamation and insults of people and prophets. Critics say both such articles restrict free expression as well as personal and religious freedom.

Indeed, media hate speech targeting Coptic Christians in recent weeks has confirmed Christians’ worst fears. Radical Salafi preachers appearing on independent religious channels have increasingly criticised Christians and incited violence against them. Islamist cleric Ahmed Abdalla (popularly known as Abu Islam) who burnt a Bible during a protest sparked by anger over the anti- Islam film “Innocence of Muslims ” last year, faces detention after being charged with “contempt of religion” — a crime punishable by up to three years imprisonment in Egypt. A Coptic Christian lawyer had earlier filed a lawsuit against Abu Islam, accusing him of calling Christian women protesters “whores” on his TV talk show. Abu Islam had earlier stirred controversy by justifying rape and sexual assault against women who join the Tahrir protests saying that they go there because “they want to get raped.” Coptic lawyer Naguib Gabriel demanded that Abu Islam be prosecuted, adding that “Copts are bitter over the absence of justice in cases involving Christians.”

Seven Coptic Christians have been sentenced to death in absentia for their role in the anti-Islam film that sparked protests across the Muslim World last year. In October 2012, two Coptic children aged 10 and 9 were arrested and detained on charges of insulting Islam after they ripped pages from the Qur’an.

While the country’s new constitution grants Christians, Jews and Sunni Muslims the right to “worship freely”, that same right is not afforded to other religious minorities in the country — such as Baha’is — who are banned from building places of worship.

For decades, Egypt’s estimated 4,000 Baha’is have been kept on the margins. The current discriminatory policies against them are a carry over from successive regimes. Unrecognised by the state, Baha’is were in the past, unable to obtain national ID cards (which allow holders to vote, buy and sell property and open bank accounts.) That changed in 2008 when a Cairo Court granted Bahais the right to issue Identification documents — albeit without stating their religion on the cards. All IDs of Baha’is are marked with a dash, thus distinguishing them from followers of the three officially recognised faiths (Islam, Christianity and Judaism). While the IDs have given Bahais certain rights (allowing them to issue other documents like birth, marriage and divorce certificates and enabling them to vote), they’ve also contributed to deepening the discrimination and stigma associated with the yet-unrecognised faith.

“I’ve heard stories of Bahais who’ve been rounded up and detained for nothing more than their faith,” said Somaya Ramadan, an Egyptian academic and award-winning writer who follows the Baha’i faith. She recalled that armed security forces had stormed the home of a Baha’i family in Tanta some years ago and arrested a Baha’i woman in the middle of the night , leaving her young children unattended. Like many followers of her faith, Ramadan is worried that Islamist rule in Egypt could lead to an upsurge in religious intolerance against members of her community and subsequently, restrict their freedom of expression, religion and assembly.

Recent statements by Education Ministry officials advocating that “Bahai children may have difficulty enrolling in government schools in future because the constitution only recognises the three Abrahamic faiths,” have confirmed Bahais’ worst fears.

“The January 2011 Revolution raised our hopes for justice, equality and freedom but now, we feel let down,” Ramadan told Index .

“The current government favours Muslims over people of other faiths. This attitude can only reinforce hypocrisy, encouraging people to lie about their religious beliefs. Islamising the society will only deepen the sectarian divisions in the country — The disenfranchisement of Bahais and other religious minorities must end.”

Still, she remains hopeful and is confident that change will come.

For that to happen, Egyptians need to take some bold steps to put their country back on a path of reconciliation and compromise — including amending provisions to the constitution that are ambiguous or unpopular with the public. President Morsi has recently appointed a committtee of legal experts and representatives of opposition political parties to discuss amendments to the charter. For the secular opposition activists and religious minorities in Egypt, the talks are a new opportunity to press for a document that truly secures freedom of religious expression and respects human rights — necessary conditions for a viable democracy.

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Under Hosni Mubarak, Egypt‘s press freedom and general freedom of expression were a convoluted issue at best. In theory the media was fairly free, but it was often impossible to set up an independent newspaper or get a television broadcast licence. The government couldn’t truly prevent the independent papers from printing something, but they could punish and intimidate them after the fact in multiple ways.

Well into the 21st century, it was forbidden to speak or write critically of Mubarak or his family. That taboo was eventually breached and Mubarak’s final years featured a parade of direct abuse from the opposition and independent press. But other barriers held firm. Every editor in the country could expect the occasional visit from the dreaded State Security Investigations agency. And they all knew that any mention of the military or Muslim-Christian tensions had to be dealt with very carefully to avoid the wrath of the government.

Nearly two years after the revolution that ousted Mubarak from power, the media scene is still something of a mixed bag. In some ways, being a journalist in post-revolutionary Egypt is even more complicated and treacherous than it ever was under Mubarak.

A media war in the new Egypt

As 2012 came to a close, the issue of public expression was particularly relevant, as the country’s main political factions seem destined to spend most of 2013 publicly screaming at each other.

Egypt’s public debate has become shrill and bitter as the country has split into deeply polarised camps: Islamists versus everybody else. President Mohammed Morsi and his Muslim Brotherhood allies have succeeded in forcing through a rushed and controversial constitution — a process that has burned almost all bridges with the largely secularist opposition.

Protest outside the Presidential Palace in Cairo, 4 December 2012. Mohamed El Dahshan | Demotix

This polarisation is reflected in the country’s media. As Egypt has broken into warring camps, much of the media has followed suit and taken sides — leaving very little in the way of objective journalism. At times different media outlets seem to be reporting from alternate universes. One classic example of this came on 23 December, the day after a nationwide referendum on the new constitution.

Al Ahram, the venerable state-owned flagship daily paper, proclaimed in a front-page headline: “The People Sided With Democracy.” Meanwhile, from across the ideological divide, Al Masry Al Youm — the largest independent daily and Al Ahram’s strongest competitor — covered the same event with the front page headline: “Wholesale Violations.”

The fall of Mubarak and the collapse of his regime’s many restrictions on the media have certainly led to an explosion of new media in Egypt. Immediately after Mubarak’s ousting, a wave of new newspapers and satellite television channels appeared, kicking off a raucous new era of freewheeling expression. Much of the independent media — including several major satellite channels—feature talk shows that are heavily anti-government and anti-Islamist.

We’ve seen the creation of new media stars such as Bassem Youssef — a heart surgeon by training who has become the Egyptian equivalent of Jon Stewart and the Daily Show. Youssef started out posting videos on YouTube in the midst of the revolution and immediately drew a huge audience. He now hosts a weekly show called Al Bernamig (The Programme) that has become essential viewing across the country.

In the realm of the state-owned media, the picture is far less encouraging. Critics charge — with some merit — that Morsi and his allies haven’t even tried to reform journalistic standards at state-owned newspapers and television channels; they’ve simply co-opted Mubarak’s old media machine for their own ends. State journalists — who were accustomed to dispensing Mubarak propaganda under the old regime — have smoothly shifted to dispensing Muslim Brotherhood propaganda under the new regime. This is less of a problem at newspapers such as Al-Ahram, which faces stiff competition from independent papers and whose readership is widely believed to be dwindling fast. But the dozens of state-owned television channels continue to hold tremendous sway over a population with a high rate of illiteracy.

Free expression under attack

The government has struggled to maintain a consistent policy on this newly liberated media. Despite proclamations of a new post-Mubarak era of freedom, prosecution of journalists has continued on-and-off since the revolution — both under Morsi and under the military government that immediately followed Mubarak. Most recently, prominent television talk show host Wael al-Ibrashy was interrogated for eight hours and released on LE100,000 bail (about GBP £10,000) on charges of insulting Egypt’s judiciary. And dozens of other journalists have been called in for questioning on similar grounds.

In August, firebrand anti-Islamist television host Tawfiq Okasha was arrested and the channel he owns shut down. His televised rants against Morsi and the Muslim Brotherhood often verged on incitement to violence and the episode that landed him in jail featured Okasha stopping just short of personally threatening the president.

Aside from the occasional journalist prosecution, there’s a disturbing new trend emerging in the past few months: direct intimidation of and violence against journalists in Egypt. Hazem Abu Ismail — a charismatic ultraconservative Salafist preacher has repeatedly rallied his slightly fanatical followers (known locally as the Hazemoon) against journalists who criticise him. They recently held a noisy several day-long sit-in outside Media Production City — where many of the most popular satellite talk shows are broadcast — openly intimidating the hosts and station employees as they came to work. Even more disturbingly, Abu Ismail’s followers were alleged to have recently attacked the offices of a heavily anti-Islamist opposition newspaper with petrol bombs, though the preacher took to Facebook to deny any involvement.

It’s not just the Islamists who are targeting journalists they dislike. Egypt’s secularist protestors are guilty of the same crime. The anti-Islamist forces absolutely despise the Al-Jazeera satellite news channel, regarding it as completely biased towards the Brotherhood. That antipathy came to a head in late November during a string of violent protests in Cairo’s Tahrir Square. The anti-Islamist protestors firebombed a street-level studio of Al Jazeera Live Egypt — an offshoot Al Jazeera channel devoted to 24/7 Egypt news.

Earlier this year, we learned that there are limits to just how much freedom of expression the Egyptian public is willing to stomach. An amateurish YouTube video trailer for The Innocence Of Muslims, a film that insulted the life and legacy of the Prophet Muhammad touched of a week of angry protests outside the US embassy in Cairo. At one point, a small group of protestors invaded the embassy grounds and took down the US flag. The rage toward the makers of the film was understandable, but the anger directed at the US government was based on a widespread misunderstanding. Many of the protestors were angry at US President Barack Obama for “allowing” the film to be made and not immediately prosecuting those behind it. The protestors here simply didn’t understand or believe that blasphemy is not a crime in the United States and most of Europe.

Indeed there seems to be absolutely no sort of public appetite for that level of freedom of expression. A young and outspoken atheist activist named Alber Saber was arrested and eventually sentenced to three years in prison for allegedly promoting the offensive film on his Facebook page.

15 December: An Egyptian woman votes on the new constitution in Cairo. Sniperphoto Agency | Demotix

An uncertain future for free speech

The country’s new constitution — which was approved in late December by a 63.8 per cent vote in a national referendum — makes it clear that blasphemy will not be considered a freedom of expression issue. Article 44 of the constitution bluntly states that:

Defaming all religious messengers and prophets is prohibited.

But the constitution is far more murky when it comes to safeguarding the rights of journalists. Morsi and his supporters have hailed the document as enshrining unprecedented press freedoms. However an examination of the text reveals some potentially dangerous built-in loopholes to that freedom.

One article on freedom of the press clearly states:

The freedom of the press, printing, publication and mass media is guaranteed … The closure, prohibition or confiscation of media outlets is prohibited except with a court order.

But another article seems to open the door to a very broad interpretation of what exactly constitutes defamation and irresponsible public speech. Under the strangely-worded title of “Dignity and the prohibition against insults,” the article states:

Insulting or showing contempt toward any human being is prohibited.

Even in a healthy political environment, it’s impossible to imagine a free media functioning without somebody getting insulted or shown contempt. But given the absolutely toxic state of the modern Egyptian political playing field, this constitutional paradox seems likely to be tested almost immediately.

Ashraf Khalil is a Cairo-based journalist and author of Liberation Square: Inside the Egyptian Revolution and the Rebirth of a Nation

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“Now everyone can see what’s happening in the police stations. That’s something that touches a nerve in ordinary citizens who are not political activists,” Abbas says. One Egyptian online activist created the ‘piggipedia’, a Flickr account showing a gallery of senior Egyptian police officers photographed at demonstrations.

The murder of Khaled Said in Alexandria last June became a new rallying point for protest, after he was beaten to death in public, in front of witnesses, by plain-clothes police officers. Autopsy photographs of his badly battered face circulated immediately on the internet, sparking a month-long round of demonstrations and vigils – many of which were organized and announced on Facebook and Twitter. The Facebook group ‘We are all Khalid Said’ later became a hub for the January uprising.

The internet was already well established as a virtual meeting point for evading the country’s harsh laws against political activism under President Hosni Mubarak. In 2008, a 30-year-old civil engineer named Ahmed Maher created a Facebook group called the 6 April Movement to commemorate the date of a violent clash between police forces and a group of striking textile factory workers in the Nile Delta city of Mahalla al Kubra. The page then took on a life of its own, gathering more than 70,000 members and expanding beyond labour activism to encompass all manner of political activity. “We can’t have a proper headquarters. It’s not like we can just rent an office,” Maher says. “But on the net there are groups like ours meeting 24 hours a day.”

Last March, employees at the popular online news site Islam Online went on a mass strike to protest against editorial interference by the site’s management. The strike was broadcast over the internet thanks to a live feed on Bambuser, the video-streaming website. In addition to documenting the chants and vigils, many strikers used the streaming video feed to give testimonials directly to viewers.

Before the uprising in January, active bloggers such as Ahmed Maher and Wael Abbas were shifting their energies to Twitter and other online platforms. The appeal, they say, is a new level of interactivity and the creation of a virtual community. Abbas, in particular, has employed his Twitter account in a novel way. After years of posting videos that embarrassed the government, he would be detained, questioned and searched while leaving or arriving in Egypt. On at least one occasion, the authorities confiscated his laptop. As a result, whenever Abbas headed to the airport, he would tweet the news to his 5,000 followers. If he was detained or questioned, he would tweet that as well and the Egyptian online community would immediately rally behind him. In early February, as the Tahrir Square uprising was entering its second week, Abbas was arrested, questioned and released.

The parliamentary elections last year were the first to receive digital scrutiny. Anyone following #egyelections on Twitter was deluged with information from the estimated 44,000 polling stations spread across 29 governorates. Activists, journalists and election monitors all posted and forwarded the latest updates and pictures from around the country. If a monitor or a journalist was turned away from a polling station by police, the incident was instantly posted or tweeted. When Sobhi Saleh, a Muslim Brotherhood-affiliated MP, was attacked in Alexandria, the news circulated through Twitter so fast that journalists and human  rights workers were able to interview him in hospital.

“When a new report came in from our reporters in the field, the first thing I would do is put up feeds on our Twitter account, before I even posted the news on the website,” says Lina Attalah, co-managing editor of the English edition of al Masry al Youm , Egypt’s largest independent daily newspaper.

President Hosni Mubarak’s ruling National Democratic party won more than 90 per cent of the vote in a victory that generated widespread condemnation and allegations of voter intimidation, strong-arm tactics and old-fashioned ballot box stuffing. The electronic evidence posted on Twitter, Facebook and YouTube amounted to a damning and comprehensive dossier of the day’s injustices.

Until the uprising in January, activists like Maher and Abbas would express frustration at the inability of Egypt’s robust internet political scene to translate into mass demonstrations. Most Egyptian protests would still amount to the same group of people invariably surrounded by central security riot police. But that’s all history now.

This article is taken from the current issue of Index on Censorship magazine, The Net Effect. Click here to subscribe

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Even without hearing every word, the crowds gathered around me could tell within about two minutes that things weren’t going to go the way they had expected.

I had spent the previous hour wandering the square gathering up ecstatic quotes from thronging crowds who honestly believed tonight would be the end of the Mubarak regime. Just why they thought that will emerge in news reports over the coming days. Several credible news organisations ran with the news that he would be resigning and President Barak Obama — in his comments both before and after the speech — certainly seemed like a man who fully expected to hear something different.

Either way, Tahrir was absolutely ecstatic. People were hugging and congratulating each other. Several concerts and poetry readings broke out on the various stages that have been assembled. I’ve never seen so many Egyptian flags outside of a football match, nor heard the national anthem sung with such enthusiasm.

The overall mood was that the people had won, and that Egyptians had accomplished something that would have been unthinkable just two months ago — and something that would serve as a model for a potential domino effect of Middle Eastern democratic revolutions.

As Mubarak continued and it became clear that there was no resignation coming tonight, the crowd’s mood shifted from euphoric anticipation to a sort of grim realisation of what was really taking place. There was a brief sense of deflation that was quickly replaced by fast-rising anger. People in Tahrir are wondering just what they have to do to deliver their message in a form that Mubarak will understand.

I approached one young veiled woman in her early 30s who looked particularly upset and asked her how he felt. She identified herself as a schoolteacher and said simply: “I feel hatred.”

Look for new, possibly more aggressive, tactics to emerge from the protest movement in the coming days as the demonstrators seek new ways to turn up the pressure on Mubarak’s regime. Organisers will continue to emphasise the peaceful ethos that has carried them this far and kept them on good terms with the army.

But as of early Thursday morning, a decision had apparently been made to expand beyond Tahrir Square and occupy more of the city. As of 4 am Cairo time, the Information Ministry was surrounded and a crowd estimated at about 3000 had reached the presidential palace in the Heliopolis district — several miles away from Tahrir — and appeared to be digging in for an extended sit-in.

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The Egyptian people have lived under emergency laws for 30 years, with their rights to freedom of expression and assembly constrained. The mass protests across the country are an unprecedented demand for political reform and social justice, without parallel in the recent history of the country. We urge President Mubarak to restrain from using force and to respond to the Egyptian people’s demands with long overdue reform.

Index in Censorship also condemns attempts to control and disrupt the media and electronic communication. The government closed down al Jazeera’s broadcasts in Egypt today and has severed internet access. This is a move to deprive the Egyptian public of vital information and the ability to communicate with each other. Index would remind President Mubarak that Egypt’s own constitution guarantees the right to freedom of expression and assembly, and request that he lift the state of emergency that stands in the way of all democratic reform as a matter of urgency.

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Amer’s four-year jail sentence actually ended on 5 November, but the Egyptian authorities held on to him for nearly two weeks extra — prompting protests from Amnesty International and others. The Egyptian government — which grants itself sweeping powers under the so-called “emergency laws”— has a history of acting in defiance of its own judiciary. This includes openly ignoring court-ordered releases, or releasing a suspect and then immediately re-arresting him.

So the delay in Amer’s release had supporters worried that the police would simply keep him indefinitely.

Amer was sentenced to four years in prison in 2007, having already served two years in custody, for a package of charges that include insulting Islam, encouraging sedition and defaming President Hosni Mubarak.

His crimes: a series of blog posts that bluntly expressed his atheist beliefs and his criticism of the state of Islamic discourse. His case has already prompted a long-running solidarity campaign by supporters who consider him a “political prisoner”“, guilty of nothing more than thought crime.

Amer has made no public statements since his release. According his supporters, he has requested a bit of quiet and privacy with his family. It remains to be seen whether he will renew his writings, or whether the Egyptian police — particularly the notorious Alexandria contingent — will leave him alone.

Ashraf Khalil is a regional editor at Index on Censorship and a senior reporter for Al Masry Al Youm English Edition

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On 26 March a Cairo court sentenced Ibrahim Eissa, editor of the independent Al Dostour newspaper, to six months in prison for publishing a series of articles on 79-year-old president Hosni Mubarak’s health.

Eissa has the right to appeal the ruling, which he probably will, knowing all too well that he’ll end up in one of Egypt’s notorious prisons anyway.

This 42-year-old critic of the Mubarak regime still faces at least four other court cases concerning articles deemed ‘insulting’ to figures in the ruling party and, again, the president.

It is unlikely that Eissa will get out of this witch-hunt unscathed. These cases, like many others, are politically motivated. If he is found innocent of some charges, he’s bound to be found guilty and imprisoned on others. The 26 March verdict — made available in a 21-page paper explaining the legal grounds of the sentence — best demonstrates this assumption.

The paper said that Eissa crossed the legal boundaries when he published reports in his newspaper based on a rumour suggesting that president Mubarak was suffering a health problem, ‘even though’ the president had made several public appearances in an attempt to dispel the rumour.

By printing articles questioning the president’s health condition, the court said, Al Dostour had demonstrated a premeditated ‘ill will’. In doing so, Eissa had sparked ‘fear’, ‘chaos’ and ‘panic’ within Egyptian society, and had also damaged the economy by causing investors to pull capital from the stock market.

Some might wonder why or how one sole journalist in the Arab world’s most populous country could have such a profound influence on the economy, or public opinion for that matter. He doesn’t. What he does have, however, is the courage to defy the ‘red lines’ imposed by Egypt’s authoritarian regime. It is becoming clear that out of all the journalists dragged to court over the past year, its Eissa’s head that’s wanted, because he called things by their right names.

Instead of criticising ‘the government’, which is a popular and safe euphemism amongst Egyptian journalists to refer to the president — and recently his son Gamal — Eissa had absolutely no qualms in pointing an accusing finger to Mubarak, his son and their entourage by name when he found them responsible for Egypt’s woes. Nor did his relentless anti-dictatorship and anti-corruption journalism run out of steam, though he knew all too well that it could cost him his freedom.

When rumours spread last summer that Mubarak’s health was in critical condition, Al Dostour did what any newspaper would: report the news. Because Egypt’s constitution gives the president absolute authority — which makes him the most important official in the republic and consequently makes this a very sensitive issue, Al Dostour gave this story the prominence it deserved. Back then, Eissa challenged the ‘secrecy’ surrounding Mubarak’s health, arguing that it wasn’t a personal matter to be kept away from the public, but an issue of national concern. It wasn’t the media’s fault that because of tampering with the Egyptian constitution, the fate of an entire nation hinges upon the health of one man. This is what dictatorship is about.

Ever since he assumed office in 1981, Mubarak has refused to appoint a deputy. In the past decade, the growing political influence of his younger son Gamal triggered speculation on his perceived ambition to succeed his father. It was during that time that a dissent movement emerged to pressure the regime to allow a democratic change of power. Instead, Mubarak amended the constitution to entrench his party’s grip on power and exclude other political forces from political participation. The dissent movement relied heavily on the newly established private and independent press in its campaign to influence public opinion. This is how the private press came to play a crucial role in the struggle for democratic transformation in Egypt. Al Dostour’s fearless tone made it stand out.

What makes Eissa’s case particularly alarming is the shocking silence of the Egyptian Press Syndicate, which has ignored the decision to imprison him altogether. Its new elected chairman, Makram Mohamed Ahmed — who was backed by the state-run media in his election campaign last November — told AP that a ‘compromise’ could be reached between Eissa and Mubarak’s ruling party. He suggested that journalists accept a government-proposed ‘code of ethics’ that would ban criticism of the president and his family.

Egypt is currently going through a critical stage of economic, political and social instability. Various sectors of society — from judges and medical doctors to labourers and university professors — are resorting to strikes to protest poor wages and corruption. Recently, clashes have been breaking out amongst Egyptians waiting in long lines for government-subsidised bread, causing a nationwide crisis. The president has been forced to use the army to supervise bread production.

It is imperative for the regime at this volatile stage to secure its grip on power and silence the press. It’s no coincidence that Egypt’s information minister formulated an agreement, adopted by 20 Arab states in Cairo in February, to punish satellite channels for offending Arab leaders. Previous harassment of journalists attests to the ongoing crackdown on independent reporters, who remain a thorn in the regime’s neck.

If journalists accept the compromise floated by the Press Syndicate’s chairman, it will be a setback for the gains and efforts of independent journalists who refused to kowtow in their quest for the truth. In Egypt’s current transitional phase, it is imperative for independent voices to remain fearless, or risk worst days to come.

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