An ex-Jihad leader tells Jailan Halawi of his years of imprisonment and future hopes For years Egypt suffered terrifying attacks planned by members of Islamic militant groups that had a devastating impact on both Egyptians and foreign visitors. No one knew when the next attack would be launched, or what its target would be. For those directly caught up in the attacks the effects were often tragic, and their impact on the economy left many individuals jobless and families struggling to survive on dwindling incomes. The spiral of violence began with the assassination of Egypt's then president, Anwar El-Sadat, in 1981 and reached a floodtide in 1997 when 58 people were killed during a horrific attack on tourists in Luxor. The first line of defence was the security apparatus which, in facing down the threat, adopted a strategy of zero-tolerance, meeting any attempt at violence with an iron glove policy. Security forces made full use of the state of emergency in effect since 1981, and the Interior Ministry pursued any suspicion of involvement in terrorist groups zealously. Anyone suspected of ties to Egypt's most militant groups, Al-Gamaa Al-Islamiya and Jihad, were tried before military tribunals. Assets were frozen in an attempt to dry up sources of funding, channels of communication were cut between the groups' domestic and expatriate leaders, and anyone suspected of posing a threat to national security could expect long years of detention. By the late 1990s civil society was playing a growing role in the denunciation of extremist groups, to the extent that men with beards and women wearing the niqab were often stigmatised as potential terrorists. Following the 1997 massacre the tide appeared finally to turn. With many members and the leaders of extremist groups either dead or behind bars, the groups began to rethink their strategy. After holding onto their arms for years they began to revise their positions, with incarcerated leaders renouncing violence and vowing to henceforth pursue their goals by peaceful means. The calls to lay down arms, though welcome, were often met with suspicion: the men behind the revised ideology were, after all, detainees, and the public was naturally sceptical of their motives and aims. Nor was it possible for journalists to assess the sincerity of such calls: access to political detainees is strictly limited, and many former leaders who had been released were reluctant to speak to the press, or else had been advised to remain silent. For five hours, Al-Ahram Weekly interviewed , a 43-year- old man who was first detained for two years at the age of 16, in the immediate aftermath of Sadat's assassination, and who was subsequently in and out of prison until February 1993 when he was re-arrested and held in detention until 1 August 2007. During the years of incarceration he was twice referred to military courts, first in the Talaa Al-Fath, or Vanguards of Conquest, case of 1993, and then again, in 1999, in a second case dubbed by the press The Returnees from Albania. Though cleared by the court he remained in detention. In both cases he faced charges of helping establish and lead a terrorist group, Jihad, that sought to overthrow the regime. They are charges that could carry a capital sentence. Although much of the time Moneeb gives the impression of someone who has freed himself of the traumas generally associated with long periods of detention, his apprehensive smile, though calm, belies a fear of returning to those dark years behind bars. It is an impression reinforced by his elusive replies to questions about his former beliefs. Moneeb, clearly, is someone determined, as he says, to "let bygones be bygones, turn the page on a certain phase of my life and seek a new opportunity for a peaceful life." At no point in the interview does he reply to any question addressing his role as a member, let alone a leader, of Jihad: what he does concede is that the long years of imprisonment allowed him to grow closer to "the brothers", a term Islamists use to refer to one another. And when it is suggested that the article based on the interview would have to include a reference to him as a member/ leader of Jihad, albeit one who never held a gun, he makes no objection. Moneeb is a persuasive speaker and, unusual for someone with such a talent, a good listener. In his teenage years he lived in the Haram district in Giza, a neighbourhood that was also home to two leading Jihad figures, Tarek and Abboud El-Zomor, paternal cousins who are still serving jail terms for their role in president Sadat's assassination. During his early years Moneeb frequented the mosque where the Zomors preached. As a young man whose political views were yet to be shaped he was susceptible to the influence of his charismatic mosque preachers and proved a fertile ground for the ideas they were sowing. While the Jihad group had been recruiting members to its ranks since the early 1970s it was not until a decade later that its leadership decided that the Islamic State they wanted would only be achieved through a coup d'état. "Change by any other means was deemed impossible," says Moneeb, hence the Sadat assassination and consequent escalation of violence. "I always wanted to study politics yet with my record of being in and out of prison the closest I could come was to enrol in the Faculty of History, which I believe could be a door into politics," he notes. After graduating in 1990 Moneeb embarked on a career in journalism, which he thought would be a suitable vehicle for the dissemination and promotion of his views. He worked for six months at Al-Haqiqa (The Truth), a newspaper issued by the decaying Liberal Party. He later joined Al-Shaab, mouthpiece of the Labour Islamist opposition. Adel Hussein, Al-Shaab 's editor-in- chief who died in March 2001, had himself been imprisoned, the last time in 1994. The paper had long been a thorn in the side of the regime, launching regular campaigns against senior officials and accusing them of corruption and subservience to Washington and Israel. Its last campaign, in May 2000, was against a novel it judged blasphemous, and resulted in thousands of Al-Azhar students staging violent demonstrations. The political parties tribunal then decided to close down the paper and freeze the activities of the Labour Party for inciting public opinion, a judgement that is still in force. Moneeb also contributed to the London- based Al-Arab (The Arabs) and the Islamic- oriented weekly, Al-Lewaa Al-Islami (The Islamic Banner), published by the National Democratic Party and targeting readers interested in Islamic issues. Moneeb recounts that following his arrest in 1993 he was asked only once, and then by a police officer in the vehicle that was taking him to prison, whether he was for or against violence. "I told him that I was against violence in all its forms, and that was the first and last time nobody asked me anything until 7 October 2002. Meanwhile I was kept in isolation. Not everyone in jail is a member of specific Islamic groups. Some are relatives or friends of members, others vague sympathisers with these groups. Yet by sharing the same trauma and living together under tough prison conditions around the clock we became family." Prison conditions have been of concern to domestic and international human rights groups for years, and Egypt has been repeatedly urged to improve its record. Reports issued by human rights groups regularly appear condemning the harsh treatment of prisoners and practices that include deprivation of food, refusal of medical treatment, visits and, above all, torture. While such violations are reported by some to have decreased recently few would argue that Egypt does not have a long way to go before it matches its obligations in the treatment of prisoners contained in the international treaties to which it is a signatory. However, such conditions gradually started improving by the late 1990s, which reportedly had its positive outcome. For years Moneeb suffered repeated solitary confinement, deprived of all form of communication with the outside world. "In my solitude I had ample of time to reflect. I realised that life with its distractions hinders us from getting closer to ourselves and discovering the potential we possess. Staying alive against the odds taught me a lot." Coinciding with the new millennium, and following Al-Gamaa Al-Islamiya's ceasefire initiative, prison conditions for Islamist prisoners began gradually to improve and they were allowed to interact more with one another. But how did the sudden renunciation of violence come about? "Some groups revised their ideologies because they realised that violence could not have a positive outcome. It would not help them attain their goal [of establishing an Islamic state] nor would it benefit the group's members or wider society. They began to realise that no matter how powerful a revolutionary group might be its strength paled in comparison to that of the regime especially when [revolutionary groups] lack mass support. Hence the revisions," says Moneeb. During discussions with fellow inmates he was sometimes taken aback by the ideological stagnation in which many of "the brothers" were mired, and the ignorance of others who followed blindly. "The young," he explained, "will only listen to those who speak in their language, who succeed in addressing their mental and emotional concerns. When we speak to the younger generation we need to stay focussed on the political and social factors that colour their lives. The young need hope that one day their dreams might come true. They need to feel confidence in the future and believe that their leaders are concerned with their well being not only in theory but in practice. Politically they need to believe that change can happen through free and fair elections, not through rigging, violence and thuggery. In order to convince them of this we must open the door to dialogue and allow free expression and debates that will lead to ideological maturity rather than stagnation and violence." Now that he is a free man Moneeb has once again taken up a journalistic career and hopes to write books about the Islamic movement. Unfortunately, he says, most of the offers he has received are to write about torture in prison. "We feel that people are isolated from our problems. We don't want to write about torture, there are many issues that are more important. I have established my own blog where I write about the psychological and social welfare of detainees and the day-to-day impact of their incarceration on their own life and that of heir families. Prisoners are human beings. When those outside prison suffer to make ends meet how do you think people in jail manage?" Beside his blog Moneeb writes a weekly article that appears on Wednesday in the independent Al-Dostour newspaper and hopes to find more channels through which his voice can be heard and his ideas expressed. After six months of freedom he still finds it difficult to find his way around Cairo after so many years in prison. Fifteen years ago, he says, Cairo was less polluted, less materialistic and less chaotic. And while his dream remains to live in an Islamic state, his most practical concern is to ensure he never again experiences the darkness of prison.
