The general rule in prisons is that the guards do not carry guns. That is standard everywhere, as far as I know. The reason is obvious; prisoners could take the guns. This immediately illustrates the profound fear that guards have towards the prisoners, and it is bewildering to me that most prisoners can’t recognize that.
When I first entered the Central Prison, and realized that the guards were unarmed, I couldn’t understand why on earth any of the inmates chose to stay in prison, and I immediately began to formulate a plan for escape. However, I gradually understood that there are several factors, some practical, many psychological, which kept prisoners passive.
I will first discuss the main psychological obstacles, insha’Allah.
Probably as a result of their experiences with violent tyrannies in their home countries (Pakistan, Iran, other Arab countries, etc), most inmates suffered from a kind of debilitating awe at the sight of a police uniform. Even if the man wearing the uniform was clearly not fit, not strong, poorly trained and lethargic; what prisoners saw when they looked at him was the power of the state.
This was a severe psychological obstacle.
When I looked at the guards, I saw regular men, poorly paid, usually either slow and overweight, or skinny and weak, most of whom had probably never been in a fight. For almost the entirety of their 8 hour shifts, they sat drinking tea and smoking cigarettes. And obviously, these men were overwhelmingly outnumbered by the prisoners. Any mass mobilization by inmates would be impossible for the guards to handle.
But here was the other psychological obstacle: the complete lack of prisoner solidarity. This is important to note, because it should not be the case among Islamist prisoners in Egypt. In Sharjah Central Prison, most of the inmates were actual criminals. Drug smugglers, murderers, thieves, rapists, etc with poor education, poor morals, and no discipline. They were not religious, they were not activists, they were not people dedicated to any meaningful cause or principle; most of them had spent their lives basically serving their desires and cared only about their own personal benefit and survival.
With the massive number of Islamist activists in prison in Egypt, there should be a much better chance for solidarity and coordination, may Allah support them and liberate them all.
Finally, many prisoners held a kind of passive hope that their cases would be resolved, and they would be released. There are two ways for this to happen, both equally unlikely. First, there is the hope that the court will either find you innocent, or else, will issue a light sentence. Typically, the trial process in the UAE drags on for years, with court appearances being mostly a formality at which the judge simply orders a postponement. You go to court every month, and the case is postponed each time. It becomes an endless process, much like the renewal of detention system currently used in Egypt.
The other false hope inmates have, once they have been sentenced, is that they will win a governmental pardon on one of the ‘Eid holidays. They wait desperately year in, year out, for their names to be included on the pardon list, like people playing the lottery.
At the heart of each of these psychological obstacles there is the same sickness: belief in the supremacy of the state, and the inferiority of the people.
Again, this disease should not afflict the hearts of the Islamists imprisoned in Egypt who have already experienced the power of popular resistance and the feebleness of the regime.
Insha’Allah, bi idhnillah, Islamists and activists jailed in Egypt should not have the psychological obstacles which plague regular prisoners
.