It appears we need to agree not only on major issues of controversy, but also on the meanings of the terms that we use. These days, many Egyptians are using the same concepts to mean different things. Take for instance the term “civil state”, which is currently the subject of intense public debate. Anyone following the current discussion will quickly discover that the term is used to mean various things.

Last Sunday, I wrote my comments on the draft of the unified law for building places of worship, issued by the Justice Ministry which said it had referred to the proposition of the National Council of Human Rights (NCHR) in this respect. During the week, however, the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces issued a draft decree for a unified law governing the regulations and conditions for building places of worship in Egypt. The law decree reads as follows:

As dark clouds of smoke billowed out to sea, a blazing red sun set to end a day of street battles with no telling what was to come. On 28 January in Alexandria almost every police station in the city was on fire, state security trucks were upside down and ablaze and every uniformed element of the Interior Ministry had disappeared. The atmosphere was rich with a sense of triumph and an equal, if not overpowering, feeling of dread.

The long-awaited unified law for building places of worship looks finally destined to see light, following six years of freezing in Parliament, and despite numerous, occasional crises which erupted owing to the lack of a law of the kind. As we applaud the move, we ought to give credit where credit is due: the brave man who took the first step to issue such a law was former MP Mohamed Guweili, chairman of Parliament’s proposals and complaints committee in 2005. Guweili submitted to Parliament a bill that would place places of worship of all religions in Egypt on equal footing. Two years later, in the wake of the violent attack against the Copts of the village of Bemha in Ayyat, Giza, four then MPs—Sayed Rustom, Ibtissam Habib, Yassin Eleiwa and Mustafa al-Hawary—again submitted a bill to that effect to Parliament. In June 2007, the National Council for Human Rights (NCHR) formulated its own draft law, which proved more detailed, and charted the course for putting the bill into effect.

By definition, those who participated in the revolution rejected the Mubarak regime. The reasons for the revulsion varied however, and the associated conceptual gaps were often deep and wide. Take for example the issue of the transfer of power. There were those whose opposition to hereditary inheritance stemmed solely from political principles; they had no elemental quarrel with the person of Gamal Mubarak, with his worldview or with his lifestyle. Then there were those who resented the heir and his entourage principally because they perceived them as alienated, not only economically but also culturally. A huge conceptual and political chasm separates these two positions.

Egypt today appears to be an open field for the free circulation of a host of fallacies and rumours. Subject to neither scrutiny nor correction, many people take them for the literal truth. Some of the most recent fallacies circulated concerned the church of the Holy Virgin in Ain Shams, the re-opening of which, after three years of closure, triggered a crisis some two weeks ago. The Islamists who violently opposed the reopening alleged that the building was a garment factory and had never been a church in the first

Several years ago, I attended a posh dinner party where conversation turned to Gamal Mubarak’s chances of becoming president. Most guests said they didn’t mind the idea and even supported it. They were intelligent, well-travelled Egyptians who might have known better. "The people will never go for it," I said, "they’ve had enough of having nothing". Protests arose regarding the number of families who owned satellite dishes, as if this signaled some great achievement. Populist outrage overcame good manners as I accused both Mubarak fils and my dinner companions of not knowing much about where they lived or with whom. "Oh come on, he’s a good man," said a well-known businessman, "you can’t hold it against him just because he’s the son of the president". This bit of sideways logic silenced me; nothing I could say would matter and dinner was anyway about to be served. I didn’t see this circle of acquaintances much afterwards; some have lately gone to jail and others into politics.

The only way to avoid oppression is to attain power. This what the Muslim Brotherhood has learned from history. The overwhelming presence of the Brotherhood in the post-Mubarak era reflects their fear of missing an extraordinary opportunity to reconstruct the Egyptian polity in their favor.

Obama’s speech to the Arab world last week was marked by an interesting paradox. On the one hand, the tone and content of the speech were predictable, but on the other hand it raised more questions than answers for its Arab audience.

The true story behind the recent Islamist attacks on Egypt’s Copts--wherein over a dozen Christians were killed, hundreds wounded, and their churches torched--is as illuminating as it is sordid.

In the immediate aftermath of the tragic attack against the Copts in Imbaba a fortnight ago—the latest in a series of episodes by Salafis and thugs aimed at hijacking the 25 January Revolution—the National Council for Human Rights (NCHR) dispatched a fact-finding commission to Imbaba. The commission investigated the situation on the ground, talking to eyewitnesses, members of the clergy, and the hospitalised injured, and came up with an accurate account of the events. It released a candid report analysing the unhealthy climate which allowed the disgraceful events to take place. Praiseworthy is that the commission did not stop at finding the facts, but offered recommendations to prevent the recurrence of similar attacks.

The clarity of purpose that characterized the best moments in Tahrir is now but a fond memory. Egypt is like a family in an inheritance dispute; the fraternal rifts formerly suppressed by the father/tyrant are widening. Divided along sectarian, generational and ideological lines, Egypt is in disagreement with itself, the public’s attention sidetracked by myriad affronts and scandals. It’s hard to stay focused in such a charged atmosphere, especially when objective obstacles prevent the nation from prioritizing and addressing its issues. For one, the current army-supervised government does not represent the people, but more importantly, the people are unaccustomed to representing themselves.

As the Coliseum in Rome deteriorates with every passing day, the thoughts of Christian martyrdom and persecution that happened there also seem ages away.

Amid the upheavals in Egypt since January, reports have begun to emerge of a surge in disappearances of Coptic girls.

The heinous crime which took place last week in the neighbourhood of Imbaba, Giza, is the ultimate in desecrating the dignity of the State by Salafis and thugs—whose presence has, tragically, become a constant in our daily lives since the 25 January Revolution. The Salafis and thugs attacked the church of Mar-Mina in Imbaba, and set fire to the neighbouring Coptic homes, cars and shops, as well as to another Imbaba church, that of the Holy Virgin which they left in ruins. They based their disgraceful act on allegations that a young female who had converted to Islam was being held captive at Mar-Mina’s.

The tragedy at St. Marmina church in Imbaba on Saturday is not a new story. A young Muslim man from Asyut claims he married a Christian woman who converted to Islam five years ago, and that his wife’s brothers kidnapped her in recent months. The young man then claims he received a phone call that his wife is detained at an Imbaba church. The young man then goes to Imbaba and gathers a group of Muslims, most of them Salafis, from nearby mosques. Together they head to the church and instigated yet another incident of sectarian strife.

The threat by the Egyptian justice minister, Abdel-Aziz al-Gindi, that law-breakers in the country will face "an iron fist" after Muslim-Christian violence at the weekend is a worrying one. The sequence of events at the Saint Mena Coptic Christian church is still unclear, but certainly this kind of communal violence in Egypt has a long and disturbing history. It's right that the authorities take a zero-tolerance approach to all signs of co-ordinated violence against the country's small Coptic Christian

Judging the likely trajectory of post-Mubarak Egypt requires assessing the depth of public support for Islamism, and usually this has meant assessing the strength and intentions of the Muslim Brotherhood. While the Brotherhood remains central, however, the country is also facing a frequently violent upsurge of Salafist versions of Islam.

Since the 1970s, the Muslim Brotherhood has been gaining valuable political experience by participating is student and trade union union activism, as well as parliamentary elections. This level of engagement political affairs was unknown to the Brotherhood prior to the July 1952 revolution, when the group had virtually no parliamentary or trade union representation. At the time, the Brotherhood organized social and religious activities and maintained a strong presence in student circles, but had no political representation.

No matter what the outcome of the Qena governor predicament until these lines go into print, the core of this article remains true and pressing. The appointment earlier this month of a Coptic governor to the southern province of Qena provoked widespread demonstrations by hardline Islamist Qenawis. The protests culminated in civil disobedience, with demonstrators taking over government buildings, blocking roads in town, and stopping buses to segregate men and women passengers. They blocked the Cairo Aswan highway and railroad line, and threatened to cut off fresh water and power from towns and villages whose water supply or power comes from Qena.

Curious is the process by which 13 new governors have been appointed across Egypt. It's as if most of them were picked a by a modified version of Hosni Mubarak. The new governors include no youth and most of them have served in the police, the military or the former ruling National Democratic Party (NDP). The appointments do not reflect a country that has just undergone a revolution. Instead, they seem to suggest that Egypt’s youth are incapable of playing a leading role during the interim period and that there are no qualified candidates. The new governors have been selected on the basis of the same old standards.