When Sayed Imam El-Sherif — the leader of Egyptian Islamic Jihad, author of the two seminal books that influenced the birth of modern Jihadi Islam, best friend of Al-Qaeda number two Ayman Al-Zawahri — announced his renunciation of violence a few months ago, the initiative was met with much optimism.

While the government and security agencies reveled in having taken another step toward closing a terrible chapter in the nation’s history, the most optimistic of all were the detainees held by the thousands in the nation’s prison system. Maybe if they renounced violence, they thought, they would be accepted back into society with open arms.

The reality, of course, is somewhat more complex. Although recidivism rates are at zero, many former detainees — particularly those who were lower-ranking members of Al-Jihad or Al-Jam’aa Al-Islamiyya —are finding it more difficult to reintegrate with society.

Egypt Today spoke with two newly released Islamists: Saeed M, jailed for belonging to Al-Jam’aa, and Mohamed A, imprisoned for membership in Al-Jihad. The two spoke on condition their full names not be used.

Both men told et they believed it was finally time to resume their lives, which had been placed on hold since 1992 and 1991, respectively. Both Saeed and Mohamed were held without trial and claim not to have participated in any of the terror operations of the Islamist insurgency in the 1980s or 1990s that claimed the lives of hundreds of civilians and security forces. Saeed was 14 years old when he was arrested on January 5, 1992, not to be released until October 2006. Mohamed was 22 when he was arrested in 1991; he was released this past February.

“I do not know what I did wrong, but I apologized for it anyway,” Saeed is quick to point out.

Although Egyptian Islamic Jihad leaders have renounced violence, influential figures such as Al- Qaeda deputy Ayman Al- Zawahri are still calling on Muslims to unite in jihad.

Today, months after their release, both Saeed and Mohamed say they wish they were back in prison. “At least you did not have to think of how to secure your basic needs,” Saeed says. “It is as if we were thrown into the sea without first learning how to swim.”

The two men claim they are watching their hopes slowly crushed at every turn. And as the interviews proceed, there was one chilling insinuation resounding loud and clear through their complaints: As the state lags in reintegrating lower-level detainees back into society, their incentive for adhering to the pledge of non-violence El-Sherif helped strike diminishes.

Former detainees need assistance securing housing and jobs, to say nothing about the difficulty they have in acquiring the social skills they need to function in contemporary society. Critics, though, wonder where the state’s responsibility ends and where the individual must take some measure of responsibility for his own fate.

Excerpts from our conversations last month:

Saeed: In 2002, when the Islamic Al-Jam’aa’s initiative [to formally renounce violence] was about to be accepted, our lives changed. The torture was stopped and our pain transformed into happiness and a lust for the world. We were happy — we were about to be released, we were told. We would be able to see people, find out if they still walked on two feet.

Ashraf Sweilam How do we re-integrate Islamists who have rejected violence back into mainstream Egyptian society? There has to be a balance between handouts and neglect.

When I first came out, I did not know how to deal with people. And I realized that things were different. I could not resume my education, I did not have enough money to pay my fees. I went to Amn El-Dawla [State Security] and asked for a kiosk to turn into a shop. They said they could not give me one. Everywhere we go, we are faced with the word “No.”

Most recently, I was tried for evading military service. The judge made fun of me, asking, “Couldn’t you find a better place to hide other than prison?”

The years from 2002 to 2006 were a little better than the years before. They took us out on trips, they gave us newspapers and magazines, and we started to find out what was going on in the world outside. But it was worse than torture. It was a different kind of torture, because it did not prepare us for what we were about to face on the outside. It gave us the false impression that life was good.

Now that we are out, everybody is failing us. We hear promises of jobs, only our hopes are soon crushed. Criminals who have stolen and killed are taking kiosks to start a new life, but we are not. We want to start a new life. We went to several ministries, and they all tell you, “Yes, maybe we can find you something. Why not come back in a few days?” But then they let us down. Just because I used to be a detainee, then I have become a virus or a microbe. Nobody wants to come near me.

After a while, I started to realize that prison was more merciful. We ate, we met friends and we read newspapers. Now I cannot even afford them. We know nothing about what is going on in the world. Everybody is turning us away, even our leaders. We call them, but they say, “There is nothing we can do for you.”

I have sued the Ministry of Interior and have seven verdicts of compensation, amounting up to LE 23,000, but the verdicts are not being enforced. The world is closing in on us.

Mohamed: I was arrested in 1991. I had no religious leanings whatsoever. I was 22 at the time. I prayed, like most Egyptians, and I played sports. I competed in national karate, Kung Fu and boxing championships. I was arrested because of a spiteful complaint by informants from our neighborhood, just because I had some problems with them. They said I was a member of Al-Jihad and that I had weapons and trained the brothers in combat.

I suffered through long years of prison and torture, and if it were not for fear of God, at one point I would have committed suicide. Although the Al-Jihad initiative is recent, the treatment became a little better after the Al- Jamaa’s reviews were enacted in 2002-03. I came out six months ago.

When I look back, I believe it was unemployment that made the [Ministry of] Interior suspect me. And when I came out, I found that life was harder and crueler than it was in prison. I used to laugh with my colleagues, and did not feel the sadness that I constantly feel nowadays. A kilogram of meat is LE 35, a kilogram of dry pasta is LE 6, a kilogram of rice is LE 3. How can I live, get married and help my parents?

I heard that an Egyptian with a British passport who was arrested at the same time as us has sued the government for $1 million. I have sued the government too, I have won the cases, but the ministry will not pay. I do not know what to do.

Amn El-Dawla told me, ‘You can have a contract job for LE 120 per month.’ It won’t be enough for tea and bus fare. They must help the people who have been released to maintain peace in the country. We must become a part of society again. We must work, so we can help our families. Some of us have sisters who were never married because of the stigma of having a terrorist brother.

I wish I could eat, drink and wear new clothes. I tried to work as a builder, but I fell and broke my arm. My years in detention have weakened my body. I have come out of jail suffering from hypertension, diabetes and epilepsy, in addition to kidney problems.

Our leaders are out, and they are driving around in their fancy cars. They’re being taken care of, they’re getting what they need.

Saeed: I was 14 when I was arrested. I did not know anything about the Al-Jam’aa’s ideas at the time. But in jail, I was just like a clean, dry sponge. If you put a sponge in clean water, it absorbs it. If you put it in dirty water, it absorbs that, too. In prison, I learnt Al-Jam’aa’s ideas, I started to think of certain groups as my enemies, I started to adopt their thought. We placed Al-Jam’aa’s leaders on a pedestal in our minds. I was more affected by them than I was when I was free. Before, I prayed and fasted, and went to the mosque, which is where I was arrested. When the storm came, it took everyone in its way, without differentiating between young and old. I was placed with members of Al-Jam’aa and learnt to love and hate people I do not even know.

Today, neither the leaders of Al-Jam’aa nor the state will lend us a helping hand. I worked on my education in jail, received the Thanawiyya Amma. I am studying at the Academy of Specialized Studies now, but the conscription case was a problem. So is the issue of the fees, which are LE 1,300. I am looking for a night job to save up my fees, and to pay my LE 200 rent.

I see no hope. If you were in a dark place and saw a small light on the far horizon, you would feel some hope. My only hope is that God will help me. I dream of graduating so I can leave the country and work anywhere in the world. I want to forget Egypt and everything that ever happened to me. There are some people who can help us get our dues, all they need to do is make a phone call. But they did not receive any orders to help us, so they don’t. Right now, I see that the only benefit of the initiative is our release. But it just moved us from the frying pan into the fire.

Mohamed: Should we just try to help ourselves? Some of us are in [our] late 30s or 40s. What is there for us to do?

Saeed: A general solution will restore our hope in the country and in people. We signed an initiative. Now society needs to show us its own initiative. We came out of prison with new ideas, only to find out that the people on the outside have even more strict ideas. I keep telling them that this is our country, we must save it from all evil. Yes, we made a mistake, but we are trying to put things right.

I know a lot of Christians now, and I treat them like I would any other Muslim, which is angering the people around me. Many have become more extreme than Al-Jam’aa ever was. I tell people we are all the children of a single nation, and that God has granted all the freedom of belief, but they only mock me. They say I have excess electricity in my brain from all the torture, which is making me crazy. I tell them no, I have read a lot. I have read about wrong ideas, but then I read other books, books that tell the truth. I tell the people I meet if what you preach is the truth, then I do not want it. They say I have been brainwashed.

I was riding the Metro the other day and saw a young man and woman standing really close to each other and whispering. The people around me told me, “Aren’t you a religious man. Why do you tolerate this? Speak up, tell them that this is wrong.” What business is it of mine? She could be his sister, relative or fiancée. God granted everyone freedom. He even conversed with Satan. Why don’t we talk?

Mohamed: 85 percent of the members of the Islamist groups joined because of poverty and unemployment. But things keep getting worse. Only five percent of the members of the groups are the ones with the ideas. The rest are just poor and unemployed. What is happening in Algeria today [the suicide attacks and bombings of early September] is the result of poverty and unemployment. I dream that society will allow us to become part of it, to work with our hands and feel the joy of achieving something.

I wish that all those people who were just released would be accepted by society. We want Egypt’s name to be taken off the terrorism map. We want tourists to come to Egypt. We want to live a humane life; we want to witness the human rights we hear so much about.

But we need help and we need to be accepted if that’s going to happen.  et