By Sarah El Deeb
Associated Press

CAIRO: After the fall of President Hosni Mubarak, a group of young activists quickly moved to bring the can-do spirit of Egypt’s revolution to the level of their neighborhoods.
They began installing electricity poles in Mit Oqba’s dim streets. They got gas pipes extended to the area. They did what local officials had long promised but never done, with the aim of showing 300,000 low-income residents the benefits of an uprising meant to end the corruption and stagnation under Mubarak.

Then the activists’ parents started getting intimidating warnings: Your children are going to get beaten up by thugs. An official who helped them get papers signed for extending the gas pipes was suddenly transferred to another post.

The activists had run into a collision course with powerful local members of the former ruling party. It was a lesson about the new Egypt: The old regime is still in place and fighting change.
“The regime is not just Mubarak and his ministers. There are thousands still benefiting,” said Mohammd Magdy, one of the activists in Mit Oqba.

Mubarak was removed five months ago, along with top figures from his nearly 30-year regime, spawning euphoria among those who brought him down. Now, however, the military generals in control have been slow in, or have outright resisted, dismantling the grip that members of his former ruling party hold on every level of the state, from senior government positions down to local administrations.
And in the meantime, public anger that real change has not come is growing explosive.
The experience in Mit Oqba illustrates the conflict between old and new being waged street by street and neighborhood by neighborhood.

Under Mubarak’s rule, more than 1,700 Local Councils nationwide, with over 50,000 members, were elected in theory to represent their neighborhoods. In practice, they were a cog in the patronage and corruption machine of Mubarak’s National Democratic Party. Election rigging ensured nearly all council members belonged to the party.
Often they would push projects that lined their pockets or those of friends. For example, a street would get a new sidewalk if a firm close to the council or ruling party profited. Council members steered services to residents willing to promise them a favor later.

Late last month, a court ordered all Local Councils dissolved, potentially a significant step toward reform.
Former members retain their connections, however, backed with cash, which gives them a strong tool for regaining seats when new municipal elections are held.

“They have lots of money going around to people. They have ties with big families in the area,” said Heba Ghanem, an activist working with Mit Oqba’s Popular Committee.
The same fear holds for national politics, where many one-time officials in Mubarak’s party are gearing up to run for election in September.

The activist neighborhood groups, known as Popular Committees, aim to break not just corruption but also the apathy of Egyptians who have given up trying to make things better. They were born from impromptu neighborhood watch groups that defended homes in a wave of looting during the anti-Mubarak uprising.

The watch groups were widely popular as an example of Egyptians working together on their own initiative, and they won support from the young people who had fueled the anti-Mubarak revolt. There are now nearly 50 Popular Committees nationwide, each with volunteers working in their home neighborhoods.
Their self-imposed mandate: Make things better and get things done. Many of them have taken the additional title of “in defense of the Revolution.”

That can mean anything: fixing infrastructure and providing literacy classes, working with residents on rooftop gardens or on better water usage, monitoring officials to keep them accountable. Some conduct “name and shame” campaigns to expose those who take bribes or embezzle, whether policemen or bakers who sell government-subsidized wheat on the black market. They catch perpetrators on mobile phone cameras and publicize the footage.
Mit Oqba, Mohammad Magdy’s home district in Cairo, provided a unique challenge and opportunity. Ruling party networks were strong in the crowded district, which was used to provide manpower for pro-Mubarak rallies during the uprising.

Soon after Mubarak’s fall, the 24-year-old Magdy and his committee drew up a plan to tackle 12 prominent problems in the long neglected neighborhood. They organized the installation of light poles for a dozen streets. Drug dealing was rampant, so they are pressing officials for more police.

The district badly needed a low-fee government medical clinic. Construction was under way on one, but workers, paid by the day, were delaying finishing it. So a committee member is camping out at the construction site, doing everything from badgering them to bringing them daily tea to get it done.

Local officials promised two decades ago to extend natural gas pipelines to Mit Oqba homes. It never happened. So the committee followed the paper trail and got a few approvals signed. Now the main pipeline has been laid, and the committee is helping residents register for connections to their homes.

With the successes, the harassment began, according to the activists. Local Council supporters hacked into the committee’s Facebook group and sent emails to its members that caused fights among them, Magdy said. They transferred the official who cooperated with Magdy by signing papers.
They pressured a principal into barring the committee’s literacy class from his school.

To scare the volunteers’ families, they spread word that armed thugs were waiting to attack them, Magdy said.
When that didn’t work, the Local Council tried to take credit. In its newsletter, it proclaimed that it “promised and delivered” on the gas lines. Former ruling party members posed in photos by the new streetlights.
Magdy’s group countered with its own newsletter, “The People Want,” reporting on their activities and on former regime members trying to buy off loyalties. They also praised officials who helped them bring services.

Zaghloul Rashad, a member of Mit Oqba’s local district council, denied that the council had harassed the young activists, and called them “arrogant” young meddlers. He said the influence of the activists was limited to a few streets. He also denied the activists were responsible for the new gas pipeline, saying it had been approved earlier.
“Does the Popular Committee have a magic wand to say ‘extend gas pipelines’ and it happens?” asked Rashad, who plans to run for election again and was confident he would win.
The activists are unfazed. In a snub to Mit Oqba’s Local Council, Magdy’s group hung a banner on Al-Gharib Street, where several council members own homes. One side proclaims “Goals We Achieved” and the other “Goals We Want to Achieve.”

So far, they’ve checked off nearly half the original list of 12.
“These kids are good. They’re cleaning up the streets,” said Howeida Mohammad, a 40-year-old woman attending one of the committee’s literacy classes this week. “I don’t want anything to do with the local council.”

The Popular Committees may not survive because of the sheer strength of the old system Mubarak set up, said Alia Mossallam, a doctorate student documenting the Popular Committees and helping them network. But they will be a breeding ground for a new generation of politicians, experienced in actually serving a community.
“We have never had governance from below,” she said. “[The experience] may die down … but everything they have learned will stick with them.”