The social revolutionary

President Hosni Mubarak kept a tight grip on elections and made liberal use of the emergency law, which allowed state security to arrest and detain any Egyptian without trial for up to six months. He averaged a laughable 96 per cent of the vote in four elections over a 29-year reign. In the thirtieth, the Egyptian people decided enough was enough, and a revolution arose that Mubarak was unable to quash, eventually forcing his resignation. A young man instrumental in mobilising the masses was a Google executive, from behind his computer in Dubai.

Wael Ghonim describes his younger self as apolitical, much like most disaffected youth in a country with a “deep rooted culture of fear.” This fear was amplified by state security, which regularly engaged in practices such as phone tapping as well as using informants and espionage to serve as a lethal deterrent against potential “enemies of the regime”. In a poor economy with one in five Egyptians living below the poverty line, it was state security that triggered the revolution. After a young Egyptian was viciously beaten to death by two officers in broad daylight, something snapped in the heart of 29-year-old Wael Ghonim. He started a Facebook page called ‘We are all Khaled Said,’ dedicated to exposing police brutality in Egypt. With a solid background in marketing, Ghonim had the expertise to grow the page. This is evident in one of his ealiest posts: “People, we became 300 in two minutes.”

A unique element to Revolution 2.0 is Ghonim’s use of Facebook posts, complete with number of likes and comments. They give a certain colour to the story unfolding around them. Whether through genuine passion or marketing genius, Ghonim’s posts are always succinct and thoughtful, but they hit home hard. Eventually, Ghonim is directing the actions of 350,000 people through the page, and he inadvertently ends up playing a huge role in Mubarak’s resignation.

His inspiration behind using the Facebook page is apparently V for Vendetta: “the idea of an anonymous sentinel trying to wake those around him to revolt against a government.” Ghonim takes the anonymity of his admin position very seriously, wisely choosing the select few who are aware of his identity. What he doesn’t give the reader details on, however, is just how he managed to retain his position at Google in the midst of writing dozens of posts every day. The increasing popularity and development of the ‘We are all Khaled Said’ page runs parallel to Ghonim’s own personal transformation, from concerned citizen to revolutionary. Violence is never advocated on the page, as Ghonim seeks to actively get the support of Egyptians from all walks of life in his stead.

Innovative ideas such as the ‘Silent Stand,’ a form of protest without placards, shouting and any sort of aggressiveness, prove a hit which garners more and more support behind the cause. Ghonim is 
meticulous in his directing of the page, and when he is snatched up by state 
security — the most harrowing moment of the book, given what the reader has been told about them — it is his measures 
and precautions that prevent the names and addresses of hundreds of activists 
being leaked.

The only real critique that could be aimed at this book is Ghonim’s love for clichés in his posts (“yes, we can” is used as 
a rallying cry). Revolution 2.0 is a compelling story of the power of change that resonates in social media (“the wisdom of the crowd”) — but above this, it shows how one man really can make a difference. 
Cliché intended.

riaznaqvi@khaleejtimes.com