Loren Austin
5/3/2011
Social Ties and Social Unrest in Egypt’s Awakening
In the 21st century, Internet communication technologies (ICTs) have altered the organizational potential of even the most politically estranged individuals, with profound consequences for authoritarian governments around the world. Severely increasing the ability of individuals to transcend traditional power-distance relations, these technologies have a profoundly decentralizing effect on cultural power structures; most recently in the Middle Eastern country of Egypt. Individuals are granted a much longer informational reach; and the distances (whether ideological or geographic) from which information reaches them have undergone a similarly exponential increase. Can the scope of the social and political upheavals that rocked Egypt in 2011 be attributed to technological change? A long history of moribund political opposition was given new life through the “weak ties” of social networking and other digital communication networks. After years of suppressing the formation of “strong-ties” through traditional political groupings, the Mubarak administration was taken by surprise by a digital uprising that had its roots in a popular embrace of the knowledge economy and its trappings. These new means of expression and consumption are unequivocally a force for progressive, democratic values. Their cultural impact in the Middle East can be said to be nothing short of revolutionary.
Prior to the “Arab Spring of 2011,” the Egyptian political landscape was static, dominated by an entrenched, semi-authoritarian government. Following the assassination of Anwar El Sadat at the hands of Islamic Fundamentalists in 1981, Vice President Hosni Mubarak assumed the presidency, a position he would hold for five terms. Over the course of his thirty-year presidency, Mubarak would assume a semi-authoritarian role.
A great deal of Egypt’s cultural make-up and history promote a centralized government. A nationalistic pride in a pharaonic tradition is still very much alive, as evidenced by Mubarak assuming a paternalistic role during the 2011 revolution, saying, “I am addressing all of you from the heart, a speech from the father to his sons and daughters” (Mubarak 1). The highest authority in Egypt “is not only allowed to wield supreme power, but is in fact expected to do so” (Abdelazim 5).
A career Air Force officer, Mubarak renewed an “Emergency Law,” first instituted in 1958, shortly after coming to power. Under the auspices of promoting stability and preventing widespread terrorism, this law suspended numerous human rights. Rights protected by the Egyptian constitution, such as personal freedom (article 41), inviolability of private homes (article 44), and freedom of movement and assembly (articles 12 & 21) were all severely curtailed under the provisions outlined in this document (FIDH).
Under this law, the formation and activities of progressive political bodies are limited. Even so, given the pluralist framework of the Egyptian government, opposition groups were able to mount significant challenges to the National Democratic Party of President Mubarak in the 1980’s. In 1984, a coalition of the Muslim Brotherhood (running as independents as they were expressly forbidden from campaigning) and a Nationalist opposition group, proposed almost a quarter of all bills, though they accounted for only 13% of the parliament (Langohr 186). Had a number of independent parliamentarians not joined the NDP the following year, it would have been unable to secure the two-thirds majority needed to secure the presidency or amend the constitution (Langohr 186).
Every independent political party was “initially denied recognition by the regime’s political parties committee and won recognition only through costly court battles” (Langohr 190). Additionally, government mandate “required citizens wishing to form voluntary organizations to obtain permission from the Ministry of Social Affairs. This permission was often denied on vague grounds. Once approved, NGOs had to inform the ministry of all activities, notifying three government offices of the agenda and location of meetings and promptly filing records of meeting proceedings” (205). It was therefore more efficient for new political parties to run as independents rather than seek official recognition. This high threshold to entry into the political arena resulted in a fragmented opposition, unable to achieve meaningful political power.
Perhaps the most significant hurdle that progressive political parties were faced with in Egypt was their inability to solicit popular support through mass media. As has been the case throughout the 20th century, authoritarian governments have relied on the centralized control of communication to suppress pluralism and democratization of the popular discourse. Such culutrally cohesive ideologies as Fascism and Nazism both were able to magnify the power of their reach through “the adroit use of radio and film” (Langman 43). The power of mass media to disseminate and solidify values should not be underestimated; it is a singularly useful tool in achieving “ideological hegemony” (Howard 157). Without access to radio and television, the only in-country mass media outlet available in the 1980’s and 90’s was through producing newspapers subject to official censure.
Interestingly, with their only means of raising popular support limited to newspapers, these opposition groups became known as “al-Ahzab al-Waraqiyya” or “paper parties” (Fandy 389). Their ideological reach was further curtailed by low literacy rates in Egypt through much of the late 20th century. In 2000 the literacy rate was around 50%, though it has now risen to 71.4% (83% of males) (Fandy 389, CIA 1). Fandy cites a pervasive distrust in established media, which he believes began when “in 1967, when all Arab newspapers, radio and television, following the lead of Egyptian radio announcer Ahmed Sa’id, told the Arab people that the Arab armies had crushed the Israeli army and that Israeli planes were falling form the sky like flies” (382). Any student of history will know that this is far from true, and such a bold-faced case of media misdirection would arguably have lasting repercussions for a generation. Instead, “trust in ‘traditional’ societies” such as the Islamic community of Egypt, was more dependent “on face to face interaction and specific system of verification.” ( 382)
Dissident groups were therefore forced into a dependent relation to government communication channels that were not trusted by the greater population. Reaching potential supporters was therefore virtually impossible for opposition groups. Through “tight regulation of television, radio and film production”, the Mubarak administration was able to “manage identity formation” in such a way as to severely undermine the abilities of challengers to earn the loyalty of new converts (164).
The Mubarak administration often cited protecting “public morality” and “national unity” when instituting new mechanisms of media control (Kaye et al 32). Already, the “Emergency Law” stipulated that the executive body (the “military ruler”) had the power to monitor and censor all print publications and related media that expressed “political” viewpoints (FIDH). This was the case in 1995, when following a disappointing election, the NDP expanded restrictions on what could be considered defamatory language in press publications (Kaye et al 32). This bill was criticized by the International Press Institute as “expanding the criteria for defamation and libel” so that it could “include anything” (32).
In addition to having limited access to media for the purpose of raising public support, secular dissident groups were prevented from soliciting enough capital to build effective organizational structures. Voluntary social organizations were prohibited from raising any additional funds outside of those collected through membership dues and collections at religious services (Langohr 205). Paradoxically, these groups were forced to solicit funds from the very government whose policies they opposed (205). There are a number of darkly amusing episodes of opposition journalists petitioning the Mubarak government for salary reimbursements after their parties had been shut down for nonconformity (206).
Clearly personal political agency in Egypt was severely constrained throughout the late 20th century by the actions of the NDP. Dismayed at the seeming impossibility of political progress for their country, many Egyptians chose not to participate in the elections at all – with the “vast majority of voting age Egyptians…never bother[ing] to vote” (Charade 1). With legitimate political progress stifled, and election results manufactured, it is little surprise that a feeling of “numbed apathy” characterized the political culture of Egypt (Charade 2).
Despite this, one group, the Muslim Brotherhood, continued to pose a significant threat to the NDP. Given the restrictions on political gatherings and media outlets, it is not surprising that the most unified oppositional voice would arise from Islam. As expressly political gatherings were menacingly monitored (if allowed at all), religious events were essentially the only free meeting venues available in Egyptian society. Without the opportunity to create new institutional frameworks within the oppressive legalities of late 20th century Egypt, dissidents found the ready-made organizational apparatus of Islam salutary to their cause. Moreover, the rallying cry of the Muslim Brotherhood organization, “Islam is the answer,” has wide appeal in a country where more than 90% of the population is Muslim (CIA).
By aligning themselves with Islamic values, the Muslim Brotherhood leveraged ready-made social ties. In an Islamic country such as Egypt, there is great political power in religious association. This power becomes clear when we consider that in the 2000 parliamentary elections, the Muslim Brotherhood won as many seats as did all secular opposition groups combined (Langohr 191). Garnering support and building social ties within Egyptian society at large was difficult for secular independents – conversely, the message of the Muslim Brotherhood, was already effectively known to all Muslims. Without any official sanction, or ability to effectively produce and disseminate information related to their cause, the Muslim Brotherhood was able to achieve significant popular support. Islamists had access to “preexisting networks of local mosques, communal ties” as well as “legitimacy” which is arguably the most important factor (Berman 260). Here, the strong ties of religious community proved to be stronger than the containment strategies of progress resistant politicians.
Author Malcolm Gladwell explores a similar process, where the organizational structures of black churches in America were utilized by civil rights activists to achieve cultural change in the 1960’s. He points out that “at the center of the [civil rights] movement was the black church” which possessed “demarcated division of labor[,] … authority structures” and ministers who “exercised ultimate authority over the congregation.” (Gladwell 7). Like dissident political groups in Egypt, black Americans had little access to established media outlets - but as Gladwell notes, such a dearth of communication mechanisms is superfluous when “ninety-eight percent of the black community could be reached in church”(9).
Gladwell’s analysis of social movements draws upon the work of Doug McAdam, who posited that “structural availability [person-to-person contact] is more important than attitudinal affinity in accounting for differential involvement in movement activity”(McAdam 65). Structural availability is especially important in high-risk activism. As was previously noted, Egyptians have a special distrust of impersonal communication, a wariness which places even more importance on person-to-person contact in the creation of social movements. Structural availability is outside the purview of traditional, one-way forms of media communication. Its role in New Media will be explored later.
While the strong ties of religious organizations allowed the Muslim Brotherhood to achieve modest electoral success, their religious affiliation had a negative consequence which precluded any possibility of them achieving a majority. This geo-political corollary was summed up succinctly by a report conducted by the U.S. State Department, where Madeline Albright notes that:
“Across the Middle East, Arab leaders consistently cite the Islamist threat as a prime reason why they cannot risk pursuing political change. They warn that more open political systems will bring to power anti-Western antidemocratic Islamist groups bent on imposing a theocracy. (Albright 18)
Fareed Zakaria has a hypothetical visit to the Egyptian presidential palace of by an American diplomat end with Mubarak snapping “If I were to [address your human rights concerns], Islamic fundamentalists will take over Egypt.”(Zakaria 1) Given the foreign policy goals of the United States under the Bush administration, it is not surprising that such warning would continue to find a “receptive audience in Washington” throughout the 2000’s (Albright 18).
In 2010, over three billion dollars in U.S. foreign aid was directed to Egypt, mostly in the form of armaments and military equipment (Cornwell 1). Since the beginning of the Mubarak presidency, the Egyptian government has received an average of two billion dollars annually, although “on principle, the Egyptian government rejects U.S. assistance for democracy promotion activities” (Cornwell 1). It is clear therefore that the U.S. government provided direct support for the suppression of fundamentalist Islamic dissidents, while disregarding any human-rights violations that accompanied such containment. It was the policy of the U.S. government to promote social stability, not social progress.
These fears were not wholly unfounded. From the middle of the 1980’s until the mid-1990’s, fundamentalist Islamic radicals conducted assassinations and other terrorist activities in Egypt, “becoming the de-facto government in many parts of the south”(Langohr 186). Religious association is “a much more powerful social binder than exchange” such as consumption of media; it can however, “lead to groupthink, ethnocentricity, and intolerance” (di Noria 172). At least in the case of Egypt, those Islamic groups cohesive enough to challenge the Mubarak administration were not pluralistic enough to prevent radicalization. In the late 20th century, popular revolutions couched in Islam were not pluralistic or particularly progressive, and in some cases (such as Iran) resulted in authoritarian theocracies.
Political Islamism, in many cases, supports widespread revolutionary change, such as that seen in the Southern Egyptian provinces in the 1990’s. Motivated by perceptions of deprivation and repression, these Islamist social groups bring about a “a purposive... movement...which consciously undertakes to overthrow the existing government, and perhaps the entire social order (Berman 258). The goal of these groupings is therefore a fundamental cultural change at all levels of society, with special considerations given to morality and value systems. This kind of change was rightly seen as overly destabilizing by both the United States and the Egyptian government, and through large-scale military support the Islamist movements were effectively suppressed.
In order for cultural and political movements to achieve any sort of meaningful change in Egypt, there would have to be a broader-based popular political opposition. As Karatzogianni notes, “Social movements typically bring about change or attempt to bring it about not by challenging society as a whole, though they may appear to do so, but by opposing specific forms of social closure and exclusion.” (Karatzogianni 54). The Mubarak administration had maintained power for thirty years by preventing cultural cohesion among political dissidents, and suppressing those movements which were able to co-opt ready-made social groupings. In order for widespread cultural and political change to occur in Egypt, there would need to be new mechanisms introduced to build a more expansive social movement.
Here is where new forms of media communication were able to change a political and cultural climate that had been stagnant for over thirty years. As explored above, the Mubarak administration had taken great pains to restrict the formation and operation of dissident political factions, and voluntary organizations in a general sense. Even so, at the dawn of the 21st century, the NDP would face what is known as “the Dictator’s Dilemma”. This quandary is faced by any authoritarian, or semi-authoritarian government which wishes to achieve economic prosperity in the 21st century while still maintaining a centralized, repressive power structure. Philip Howard describes it with the following:
building the information infrastructure for government and commerce raises the risk of expectations for access to information and personal freedoms, along with the exposure to the norms and content of other cultures. (82)
It is difficult for even the most repressive authoritarian governments to resist the economic promise that Internet technologies hold: “Even authoritarian regimes such as Myanmar that are relatively wary of all forms of ICT often emphasize wiring those key industries that generate hard currency, such as tourism” (Kalathil 44). The embrace of ICTs by the Mubarak administration in the early 2000’s would lead the Egyptian culture down an irreversible path to political pluralism and revolutionary change.
The earliest adoption of ICT’s within Egypt took place in government institutions. The organizational power of such technologies is particularly appealing for large bureaucracies (such as National Governments). Communication costs, precision and speed are all increased by the adoption of such technologies. Egypt is one of the largest and most populous countries in the Middle East, and the difficulty of communicating over such a large distance is greatly allayed by the adoption of ICT’s. “As a result,” the Egyptian government was able to pare “down unwieldy bureaucracies and [consolidate] central authority through more efficient communication with remote provinces.” (Kalathil 45). Between 1980 and 2000, “Egypt computerized regional governments and then connected them through a national network ... with 500 other government entities … online” (46). It would seem that such a strengthening of the central government’s hold on power would run counter to efforts to liberalize and achieve political pluralism in country. However, the adoption of ICT’s has the consequence of making “regimes more transparent and allow[ing] citizens to directly express their concerns about government performance” (45). Such was the case in Egypt.
The operational efficiency offered by ICT’s is appealing to all types of organizations: governments, social institutions, but most especially businesses. Throughout the 1970’s and 80’s, a large part of the Egyptian economy and social welfare system was nationalized, resulting in “a heavy dependence on unsecured resources and over borrowing from other governments and international financial organizations such as the IMF and the World Bank” (Abdelazim 131). In order to reduce this debt load, the Egyptian government underwent a process of structural adjustment whereby the private sector was granted greater sovereignty and inherited some of the technological innovation initiated by the central government.
Lacking the natural resources that allow some Middle Eastern autocracies to ignore the new knowledge economy, the Egyptian government embraced the IT revolution as a key to economic development. Unlike other repressive governments, the Egyptian government did not explicitly censor Internet content, instead relying on the promotion of a culture of “self-censure”. Government control over these medium of communication was further weakened in 1998 when the telecommunications regulatory commission was separated from the executive branch (Howard 64). Continuing this trend, the Egyptian government took important steps to create investment incentives for international IT companies. President Mubarak even made a much publicized visit to the headquarters of America Online and PSInet in March of 2000 to spur outside economic investement in ICT development within Egypt (Kalathil 126).
The result of these government policies was a widespread cultural embrace of ICT’s throughout Egypt. This was part of of a larger trend across the Middle East, where “between 2000 and 2010, the compound annual growth rate for Internet users was 32 percent, compared with 24 percent for the rest of the developing world.” (Howard 37). By 2007, Egypt had become the “largest Internet market in Africa with 8.8 million users, 8.3% of the population” (Ayyad 91). Internet technologies were clearly becoming an intrinsic part of the Egyptian economy and Egyptian society as a whole. As the inventor of the hypertext markup system, Tim Berners-Lee, states: “the competitive struggles for chunks of a lucrative market provided the financial backdrop for the technological revolution, which itself was the backdrop for a real social revolution” (Berners-Lee 118).
The social repercussions of such economic development and individual empowerment can be heard in the words of a 20 year old Egyptian woman interviewed in 2000:
“The Internet and IT provide a way out for the less fortunate. If I give them bread and clean water then I’ve helped them for a day and they expect more from me tomorrow. But if I teach them to fish for information and to think beyond their poverty, then they can provide long term solutions to their unfortunate life circumstances.” (Wheeler 628-629)
Although by the late 2000’s ICTs had not diffused as fully across Egyptian society as they had in Western countries, the adoption of these technologies has been rapid. For example, while in 2000 there were around 20 mobile phones per 100 households, by 2010 that number had risien to 144 per 100 households (Howard 19).
As more and more of these ICTs were adopted by Egyptians, increasing amounts of non-state generated news and factual information were made available. The rise of Al-Jazeera, founded in 1996, provides Egyptians with a Pan-Arabic worldview previously absent from the national discourse. Similarly, in 2010 there were roughly 37 official online news sources available in Egypt, though only four are hosted in country (Howard Table 4.3). In addition to having access to uncensored news publications, the Internet offers uncensored versions of political publications as well. During the 2004 crackdown on opposition groups, the newspapers of the Labour Party and Muslim Brotherhood were shut down, but soon reappeared as websites (126). These online News sources had the “additional capacity to help coordinate opposition candidates running for office” (126). This latter note highlights a quality of ICTs that greatly increases their credibility in the eyes of skeptical citizens.
As was previously mentioned, Egyptians developed an understandable distrust in official media during the long years of the Mubarak administration. Part of this distrust stemmed from the fact that traditional forms of media are merely consumable goods rather than discursive channels. The presentation of news online allows for commenting and discussions to take place in the same virtual space as the “official word”. Online newspaper postings therefore function more as centers for debate, where errors can be identified, points clarified, and satisfactory conclusions drawn. This is a much more participatory kind of consumption, one that heightens participation and integration. In these online forums, “people can gain or provide information as well as debate and negotiate … ”social critiques (Langman 55).
Public participation in social discourse was further bolstered by the ICT of web logs or blogs. Blogs can function as news sites, organizing venues, or simple diaries. They are a unique technology in that they allow any citizen with computer access (a broad category given the popularity of cybercafes) the same communicative power as any major news organization - allowing users to immediately upload text, images and video and broadcast to an international audience. The pluralizing power of blogs can be seen in the influence of younger bloggers within the Muslim Brotherhood. One such blogger, Muhammed Hamza who decries the “narrowmindedness” of older members of his organization, and also places much less emphasis on the group’s mission of proselytizing (Lynch 244). Bloggers are generally young (around one third of the Egyptian population is between the ages of 15-29) and liberal, and their voice and organizational capabilities were unconstrained by government censure (as compared with traditional media) (CIA).
By 2010 the online Egyptian community could draw upon a globally-aware network of individuals. At this time there were approximately 141 Million Muslims with some access to the Internet, and more with access to mobile phones (which increasingly have communicative capacities comparable to computers) (Howard 161). Through shared cultural characteristics such as language, religion, and entertainment interests, this heterogeneous grouping could be said to constitute a loosely defined online community.
Although these new activists were not part of any unified hierarchy, or well defined group, this decentralization allowed for the emergence of a pan-Arab liberal secular identity. Realizing this, many Islamic traditionalists faulted the new medium for transgressing against religious values and norms. In a telling quote, Sudanese imam, Mohamed Salih Hassan says:
the Muslim people should respect the faith, and not allow such information to reach their families. If an uncontrollable system like the Internet is introduced in society, it will be very difficult for us to preach the Kingdom of Allah (Howard 125)
His words stress the lack of “strong-tie” formation in ICT based organizational development. They are difficult to control as any predominating ideology is based upon consensus rather than fiat. Preaching one socially inclusive, but ideological exclusive, faith is similarly difficult when the pluralist nature of such groupings is considered. The use of physical force, which prevented political assemblies from taking place in Egypt, is similarly ineffective as all congregations occur in a virtual space. Sociologists such as Gladwell would argue that this precludes any possibility of the formation of social movements, however as Langman notes these “kinds of social mobilization[s]...can be better understood as flows than formal organizations” (46). Additionally, they still possess a similar kind of cultural integration (via rapid and multitudinous dialogue), though they lack the space-time connections found in small traditional kin groupings. These “knowledge communities” must therefore be said to “represent new moderate forms of community” (di Norcia 173).
In traditional Egyptian kinship groups, the value of legal and military threats was paramount. A robust tradition of monarchical rule (whether Pharonic, Ottoman or otherwise) coupled with a shared monotheistic faith, did not immediately lend itself to a strong sense of individualism. A central authority figure wielded supreme command, as was expected. The preeminence of this traditional cultural value was supplanted however by new economic incentives: exchange and reciprocity (di Norcia 172). These values were solidified by a new digital social architecture that was created by emergent ICTs. Such values lend themselves to democratization and political pluralism - values which were in direct opposition to the Mubarak administrations desire to retain control of Egypt.
As was previously noted, formal political organizations were unable to catalyze widespread cultural and political change due to restrictions enacted by a powerful central government. Therefore, this liberal groundswell of ICT-based Egyptian activism was far better suited to achieve such a goal. Additionally, as raising funds for dissident political groups was limited under the Mubarak administration, the low cost of ICTs made them particularly appealing.
With more than 800,000 Egyptians on the social networking site Facebook by 2009, there was already a robust online community ready for politicization. Following Israeli air strikes on the Gaza Strip in spring of 2009, citizens across the Middle East took to the streets to protest. What was unique about the protests in Cairo was that they were colored by a distinct anti-authoritarian bent (Shapiro 1). At that time, a group of 70,000 Egyptians, most of whole had no previous political involvement, had been organized through Facebook (1). Although a majority simply had ‘liked’ the page, many had organized anti-Mubarak protests to coincide with those directed as Israel. As McAdam points out, “the pool of recruits--“the latitude of acceptance”--is still many times larger than the actual number of persons who take part in any given instance of activism” (McAdam 68). Therefore a Facebook group of thousands may yield only dozens of protesters; however, as the size of this “latitude of ‘likes’” increases, so too do the number of physical protesters.
Such was the case in the “Day of Rage”, January 25, 2011 which marked the beginning of an uprising that would unseat the entrenched Mubarak administration. This Facebook event was organized by independent political activists who hoped to protest National “Police” Day and also mirror the protests which had recently taken place in Tunisia. Around 95,000 Facebook users indicated they would attend the event, though the actual numbers in Cairo were closer to 30,000 (Nowaira). Given the pluralistic and loosely defined ideological framework of virtual communities, their demands were simple and inclusive: an end to the Mubarak administration, and the creation of a more democratic form of government.
Although these Facebook relationships lacked the realtime face-to-face contact that McAdam defines as a strong prerequisite to involvement in “high-risk” activist activities, the extremely high rate of participation in this instance provides argument against this point. As Langman notes, “the communities that are organized in cyberspace are just as real to the participants as face-to-face relationships” (44). In ICTs (most especially social networks such as Facebook), the concept of “structural availability” cited earlier becomes digitized. As more and more of an individuals time is spent in virtual spaces, their perception of virtual relationships becomes more akin to traditional kinship relations. The “weak-ties” of online reciprocity were transcended into the real world as a powerful political movement. The formation of social ties through ICTs calls into question mainy of the tradition means of cultural and political integration and organization.
Realizing that what had bound these protestors together was a shared virtual network, rather than a traditional political hierarchy, the Mubarak administration attempted to shut down Internet access within the country. While Egypt enjoyed on of the most competitive ISP market in the Middle East, with some fifty private Internet service providers (ISPs), Mubarak’s central authority allowed him to shut down their operations and severely undercut the protestors ability to communicate (Kalathil 122). Even so, many were able to connect via dial-up connections to extra-national ISP’s (Killswitch). Additionally, given the adaptive nature of ICTs, both Twitter and Google set up “speak-to-tweet” services which allowed Egyptians to leave voicemails which were then broadcast online through Twitter (Killswitch). Such an internet shutdown is also not feasible in the long-term given the economic importance of ICTs: it is estimated the short shutdown of Internet services “may have cost Egypt as much as $90m” (Killswitch). It is therefore not practical, nor fully effective, to shutdown ICTs once they have become integrated into a nation.
When the Internet was coming into being, Tim Berners-Lee (attributed by many as the father of the Web) intended it to be “a universal medium for sharing information [which] would simply help people send and access information between each other … without any central control” (Berners-Lee 43). This aspect of ICTs lies at the heart of the popular uprising that constituted the Arab Awakening in Egypt. After years of political stagnation, and social repression, Internet based means of communication offered an arena of interaction outside the purview of authoritarian power structures. Although the communities that formed in this flow of information were not strongly linked in the customary sense, the common lense through which they perceived the world was one of democratic empowerment. As the nature of these virtual communities became more and more divorced from the oppressive social circumstances of Mubarak’s Egypt, enough friction was caused to send sparks. Thankfully, the banner of rebellion was taken up by a pluralist, peaceful community of global citizens, informed and empowered by technology.
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