Molotov!

          The second half of the novel has finally begun to engage with the oppressiveness of an occupation, going beyond the Australian army’s, seemingly, minor annoyances due to them blocking access to the entertainment district for debauched husbands. The news that the nationalist men who had set out to negotiate for Egypt’s independence had been captured and exiled affected the entire family, especially Fahmy. He vehemently shouts, “If we don’t confront terrorism with the anger it deserves, may the nation never live again” (353). Fahmy, who is usually known for his calm and composed manner, suddenly thrusts himself fervently into the revolution.

            At one point Fahmy even laments that he was not among those who had been arrested when clashing with the English policemen. He is also “troubled that he was still alive and regretted his escape” (360) when he looks back on the moment he hid in a coffee shop while others were being shot and arrested. It seems strange that anyone would want to be arrested and/or shot to death, but I feel like there is something in the essence of revolution that causes people to wish for themselves to be a victim of said revolution. The revolution in Palace Walk could easily be mistaken for the 2011 Egyptian Revolution in Tahrir—also known as “Martyr”—Square.

Student-led revolutions are powerful, and though the Arab Spring inspired the Occupy Movement here in the U.S., the movement here seemed to lack one thing that the Egyptian did not: Martyrs. It is one thing to risk arrest using civil disobedience, but to actually confront the oppressor with your life marks the difference between a revolution and a movement. The failure of the Occupy Movement to turn into an actual revolution shows our unwillingness to fight violence with violence, despite the force used against demonstrators. Civil disobedience is not enough—students in the U.S. should look to Egypt and take notes. 

 Molotov!