ON FEBRUARY 23, 2004, Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak phoned Galal Aref, head of the Egyptian Journalists’ Syndicate, with some very good news: The country’s practice of imprisoning journalists for their writings was going to be eliminated. Mubarak’s promise of reform was in line with other optimistic proclamations the president has made in the past few years, such as that of Egypt’s first multi-candidate presidential elections in 2005, which hinted that Cairo might be turning toward democracy).
But like the presidential elections, Mubarak’s overtures toward free speech have also proven to be less than encouraging. Since April, at least seven Cairo-based journalists have been arrested for reporting on allegations of fraud in last year’s parliamentary elections. Others were beaten by Egyptian security forces for attempting to cover the related protests. This backlash is a reminder that what the Egyptian government says is often very different from what it does.
THIS SUMMER, Mubarak followed through on his promise for a new press law, but although the government portrayed it as a “reform,” it is unclear that the new law improves matters. The 2006 legislation is noteworthy, however, as one of a few instances where Mubarak has yielded to the demands of protestors.
As originally conceived, the new law had an amendment which allowed prison terms of up to three years for journalists who report on the financial dealings of government officials. But on Sunday, July 9–the day before the draft law went to vote in the Egyptian parliament–25 independent and opposition-party newspapers protested by not printing. That same day, some 500 journalists and political activists took to the streets in protest. At the last moment, Mubarak stepped in to remove the Draconian amendment.
The retracted amendment aside, the new press law may be just as repressive as the old one. The 2006 law reduces the offenses for which journalists can be jailed, but increases the applicable fines. For example, it puts a cap on the prison sentence of “whoever vilifies . . . the king or president of a foreign country” (five years), but specifies a penalty of 10,000-30,000 Egyptian pounds (U.S. $1,740-$5,220) for the same offense.
Francis Ricciardone, the U.S. ambassador to Egypt, commented that, “The state says the new law is aimed to protect against the traditional journalistic practice of slander-for-hire . . . whether in fact the new law proves to be a cudgel against freedom of political speech will become clear as we see how the state uses its new authorities.”
PAULO CABRAL, a Cairo-based correspondent for the BBC World Service, has an even more pessimistic view. Though the government billed the legislation as an advancement of journalistic freedoms, Cabral notes that, “there is a catch-22 . . . If [Egyptian judges] have the option of heavily fining the journalists or newspapers, they end up using this much more liberally, because it does not attract as much criticism or call as much attention as imprisoning journalists.” While fines are not as likely to draw attention from human rights organizations, Cabral points out that they “can end up being a quite efficient way of coercing the media and even creating serious financial difficulties for non-aligned newspapers.”
And while prison sentences have been reduced, Egyptian journalists can still be jailed for writing anything that impugns the presidency. The new law retains Article 308 of the Penal Code–which mandates a minimum of six months in prison for journalists whose writings “comprise an attack against the dignity and honor of individuals, or an outrage of the reputation of families.” Also still intact is Article 102, which criminalizes writings that “disturb public security, spread horror among the people, or cause harm to or damage to the public interest.” Ibrahim Eissa, editor of the weekly liberal newspaper Al-Dustour, told Human Rights Watch that, “the Egyptian Penal Code is a minefield for journalists. If these provisions were evenly enforced, most of the journalists in the country would be in jail.”
Eissa made that remark in an interview conducted from an Egyptian prison, where he is serving one year for publishing an article “insulting” to the Mubarak family. Sahar Zaki, the columnist who penned the article, is serving the same sentence. Eissa and Zaki are emblematic of the many writers, judges, and political reformists who have been tossed in prison over the past year, even as Mubarak was paying lip service to democratic ideals. As Michael Dunn, editor of the Middle East Journal, explains, widespread imprisonment of dissenters is “Egypt’s particular way of cracking down. It’s not like in Saddam’s Iraq where people disappear in the middle of night and are never heard from again. But everyone gets the message.”
Time will tell if Egypt’s independent papers are able to supercede their role as what Dunn refers to as “pressure valves,”–outlets for public criticism that are sanctioned by the regime because they pose no real danger to it. A few years ago it would have been unthinkable that independent media protests, such as those on July 9, could have prompted the regime to reconsider a decision.
With many Egyptians uncertain that their septuagenarian head of state will live out his current term, the next few years could bring some major changes in Cairo. An established independent press could act as an instrument of accountability for whoever ascends to power. One thing is for sure: The tug of war between the media and the government will be a good barometer for gauging Egypt’s political climate.
Abigail Lavin is a staff assistant at The Weekly Standard.
