The recent violence in Abbasiya is a rude reminder for the next president of the legacy that awaits him, writes Amira Howeidy It was Friday evening, 4 May, when a senior manager of one presidential frontrunner slouched in his chair, giving in to the somber mood. Military police were violently evacuating protesters in Abbasiya Square, in east Cairo, and randomly arresting anyone in the area and scores of injured from the nearby hospital. The scene -- close the Egyptian Ministry of Defence -- resembled a war zone. All that remained by 8pm that evening was rubble scattered across roads sealed off by rows of military police, tanks and jeeps -- that and the aftershock. What ended in escalation began earlier as a peaceful march to the Ministry of Defence by supporters of ultra-conservative presidential candidate Hazem Salah Abu Ismail, protesting his disqualification from the race. When military police blocked their advance to the ministry, protesters began a sit-in in nearby Abbasiya Square on 28 April. Four days later the sit-in came under attack late at night from unknown assailants believed to be "thugs", prompting clashes where knives and reportedly guns were used. Eleven people were killed, but the sit-in continued with more supporters joining the next day, including Mohamed El-Zawahri, the older brother of Al-Qaeda leader Ayman El-Zawahri -- a rare and brief showing of jihadist Salafis. Although official campaigning for the presidential elections had just kicked off, it was overshadowed by developments, forcing several candidates to suspend their campaigns for a few days. Several political and revolutionary forces condemned the violence and joined a large anti-Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) protest march on Friday towards the Ministry of Defence. This time the military police (with Special Forces according to some accounts) cracked down on the march violently, using tear gas, rocks and -- according to some witnesses -- live ammunition. Over 300 were injured and a night curfew in the area continues to be observed. Approximately 300 more -- including journalists and women -- were arrested and detained in military prison. This isn't the first violent incident since the 25 January Revolution and things appear to be back to normal with a fresh focus on the presidential race. But the incident triggered compelling questions on SCAF's legacy of almost a year and a half in power and how largely the state system of the former regime remains intact. As the curtain is drawn on the last days of the interim period, the scene in Abbasiya appears to highlight the precarious political situation that surely will not end the moment the military returns to its barracks. It was the military police, not anti-riot police who dealt with the Abbasiya march: a reminder of the absence of any effective and respected police force since the 2011 revolution. The notorious security apparatus, which only served to protect Mubarak, has not been purified during the past 15 months of military rule and nobody seems to know why SCAF failed to control the Ministry of Interior, or if indeed SCAF generals approve of the security vacuum. Also, the excessive violence of organised thugs (believed to be acting on official orders, according to independent accounts) in attacking the Abbasiya sit-in is a worrying indicator of things to come. "Incidents like Abbasiya are likely to recur. What if my candidate becomes president?" asked the campaign manager: "Where does the loyalty of the executive authority lie and who controls it? What does handing over authority really mean in practical terms?" Many share similar concerns following the Abbasiya events and as 23-24 May presidential elections near. In the daily Al-Shorouk newspaper, for example, two consecutive editorials were published this week questioning the seriousness of any power transfer while the old regime's state structure and bureaucracy remain in place. In his column, "The illusions of handing over power and zero problem policy", political Islam expert Ashraf El-Sherif argued that no elected president would be able to exercise effective control because Mubarak's state is yet to be dismantled. Similarly, in a column published 7 May, Rabab El-Mahdi, a political science professor at the American University in Cairo and political adviser to presidential candidate Abdel-Moneim Abul-Fotouh, argued that it is "naïve" to think that handing over power will happen by merely electing a president: "Authority isn't a key you deliver from one hand to the other overnight." There is no one institution, including SCAF, that has all the power and controls everything, El-Mahdi added, and "no matter who he is or how revolutionary he is, Egypt's next president will be faced with a black box called the security apparatus -- the intelligence, the interior ministry, professional thugs, all of which are a state within a state controlled by various parties from behind the scenes. In other words, the kind of violence exercised in the past week by nameless and faceless culprits, which the authorities have failed to or refrained from containing despite the repeated deadly clashes during the interim period." The Mubarak regime's centres of power, the business clique, the military establishment's control of the economy and a corrupt bureaucracy, will also challenge the next president and impede the revolution. Handing over authority is thus a process that no elected president can achieve without "organised and continuous pressure from the masses" over months and perhaps years, El-Mahdi said. The masses are not silent and Abbasiya has shown that among popular currents there are some -- like the Salafis, who are new to politics -- that will press their demands in public space, even while under attack. How they and other rising forces will shape the battle for restructuring the state left over by the former regime, and achieving an actual transfer of power, remains to be seen.
