{"id":35206,"date":"2024-11-15T12:34:08","date_gmt":"2024-11-15T10:34:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldmarkaz\/?p=35206"},"modified":"2025-08-19T15:42:29","modified_gmt":"2025-08-19T13:42:29","slug":"liberation-cosplay-on-the-day-of-the-imprisoned-writer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldmarkaz\/liberation-cosplay-on-the-day-of-the-imprisoned-writer\/","title":{"rendered":"Liberation Cosplay: on the Day of the Imprisoned Writer"},"content":{"rendered":"
Every day of the year \u2014 not just on the Day of the Imprisoned Writer<\/a> \u2014 we must now ask ourselves why western governments would bother raising a major outcry about the countless writers, journalists and even poets serving prison terms in many countries, when they\u2019ve done nothing to stop Israel\u2019s murderous campaign against Palestinian and Lebanese journalists?*<\/h5>\n

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Abdelrahman ElGendy<\/span><\/h4>\n

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As the keynote speech wrapped up in the grand banquet hall of a five-star hotel in San Diego, one of the organizers of the annual human rights conference peeked his head through the door. He gestured at me and a few other speakers, “Time for the action shot!”\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I stepped out into the cool exterior and took my place among the rows of attendees \u2014 organization staff and activists from across the United States. We held signs bearing the names of political prisoners in the Middle East, each adorned with a flurry of hashtags. People set their faces into smiles, some struck jubilant poses, others thrust their fists dramatically into the air. As the camera flashed, once, twice, a disturbance stirred within me. The unease swelled amid the celebratory cheers and back-slapping as everyone migrated to the lobby for drinks.<\/span><\/p>\n

This was my inaugural human rights conference experience in the United States in 2022. I\u2019d been invited to share my <\/span>experience<\/span><\/a> as a six-year political prisoner in Egypt and to advocate for my friends who remained, and remain, incarcerated. In a space supposedly crafted for voices like mine, I couldn’t have felt more alien.<\/span><\/p>\n

From the first planning meeting and throughout the conference, I\u2019d gotten the distinct impression that my attempts to engage intellectually with my experience \u2014 whether during my panel or the round table discussions \u2014 were tolerated rather than sought; an indulgence they allowed me in order to get the more salacious gory details. The organizers seemed to say that they had others to philosophize on my behalf. My job was just to be paraded before the audience, to make sure they understood just how bad it is “over there.”<\/span><\/p>\n

On the <\/span>Day of the Imprisoned Writer<\/span><\/a>, I am haunted even more intensely by what I experienced that day, now seen through the relentless year of genocide against my Palestinian kin in Gaza by the US-backed settler colonial project of Israel \u2014 a grim lens permanently etched onto my retina.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Established in 1981 by PEN International’s Writers in Prison Committee, the Day of the Imprisoned Writer is an annual international observance on November 15 dedicated to acknowledging and supporting writers who defend the fundamental human right to freedom of expression. It’s a noble mission, but I find myself questioning: What purpose do these commemorative days serve? Why does my gut churn every time I find myself in such spaces? More importantly, can the political incarceration of writers, journalists, and activists in our region ever end through such means? Or, to paraphrase Audre Lorde, can the master-approved campaigns ever dismantle the master-approved prisons?<\/span><\/p>\n

The typical framing of these campaigns in the West emphasizes the local context of lawless Middle Eastern dictatorships and their victims. It places formerly incarcerated, dissident voices on a pedestal, forcing them into the position of native informants, there to showcase their scars and bruises in return for Western empathy. As the audience sheds tears and \u201cconnects,\u201d these isolated moments of humanization must be quickly exploited by organizers. They circulate urgent appeals to remember those who remain incarcerated in those remote, uncivilized lands, in the hopes that the emotionally agitated audience might be moved enough to sign petitions or donate to support the organization’s critical work.<\/span><\/p>\n

Does it yield any results? Sometimes. Mostly not. I’m not trying to be overly cynical or dismiss the importance of short-term relief efforts. Having once been confined behind the same bars where many dear friends remain, I understand the necessity of any work that might free even a single prisoner. I’ve signed the petitions myself, held up the protest signs, written the op-eds, circulated the appeals, spoken at the conferences and done the meetings. Yet, I\u2019ve been unable to rid myself of the revulsion inside, or to see these measures as anything but ultimately futile in the long term.<\/span><\/p>\n

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So long as Egypt’s regime upholds European interests, Europe will not only ignore the abuse of the Egyptian people, they will even happily fund it.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

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To explain what I mean, I return to my firsthand experience with Egyptian political incarceration.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

For a month and a half now, Laila Soueif \u2014 a 68-year-old Egyptian mathematics professor, political activist, and the mother of British-Egyptian blogger and activist Alaa Abdel Fattah \u2014 has been on a <\/span>hunger strike<\/span><\/a>. She <\/span>shuttles<\/span><\/a> between Cairo and London to <\/span>advocate<\/span><\/a> for her son’s release, but the UK’s <\/span>unwillingness<\/span><\/a> to work for Alaa Abdel Fattah\u2019s freedom remains a profound disappointment to his family. David Lammy, who previously <\/span>criticized<\/span><\/a> government inaction and highlighted the leverage of the \u00a34 billion trade deal with Egypt while a member of the opposition, has yet to publicly address Alaa\u2019s case since assuming office as UK Foreign Secretary.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

What does it mean for <\/span>60,000<\/span><\/a> Egyptian political prisoners when even the highest profile voice of Egypt’s revolution, imprisoned for over a decade since 2011, is reduced to a bargaining chip, readily ignored when it suits the UK’s political convenience?<\/span><\/p>\n

The recent 7.4-billion-euro aid <\/span>package<\/span><\/a> from the European Union to the Egyptian regime further reminds us that the lives of political prisoners of the Middle East are <\/span>traded<\/span><\/a> like currency in the Western political bazaar. This support, meant to control <\/span>migration<\/span><\/a> and <\/span>secure<\/span><\/a> EU objectives, makes the underlying message clear: so long as Egypt’s regime upholds European interests, Europe will not only ignore the abuse of the Egyptian people, they will even happily fund it.<\/span><\/p>\n

This brings us to the colossal parasitic alliance for whose sake our people are perceived as acceptable collateral: the United States, the Egyptian dictatorship, and the Israeli occupation.<\/span><\/p>\n

Since the military coup in 2013, Egypt\u2019s <\/span>concessions<\/span><\/a> on human rights under (reluctant) American pressure have been nothing but <\/span>window dressing<\/span><\/a>. Despite the United States\u2019 significant leverage \u2014 Egypt’s regime being the third-largest <\/span>recipient<\/span><\/a> of US military aid in the world \u2014 the US prioritizes <\/span>the safeguarding<\/span><\/a> of its regional hegemony by keeping its lapdog happy (and therefore loyal).\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

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Alaa Abd El-Fattah: Political Prisoner and Public Intellectual<\/a>\u00a0\u2022 Yasmine El Rashidi<\/span><\/h4>\n
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As such, gestures on either side have been nothing but tokens, designed only to placate observers. In 2021, when the U.S. temporarily <\/span>withheld<\/span><\/a> $130 million in security aid due to concerns over political prisoners, Egypt responded with superficial reforms: <\/span>launching<\/span><\/a> a new human rights strategy, <\/span>inaugurating<\/span><\/a> a “five-star” prison complex <\/span>design<\/span><\/a> based on American standards, <\/span>initiating<\/span><\/a> a national dialogue, and <\/span>reactivating<\/span><\/a> a presidential pardon committee. However, as tensions <\/span>escalated<\/span><\/a> in Palestine in 2021 with the <\/span>storming<\/span><\/a> of Al-Aqsa and the subsequent <\/span>bombings<\/span><\/a> in Gaza, Egypt\u2019s dictatorship <\/span>stepped<\/span><\/a> in to remind the world of its role as the region’s <\/span>enforcer<\/span><\/a> for Western interests. Soon, any talk of reforms or committees evaporated, and the plight of political prisoners was conveniently shelved.<\/span><\/p>\n

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