A Mother’s Last Stand: Laila Soueif’s Hunger Strike for Freedom
Standing nearby was her sister, Ahdaf, a world-renowned novelist, while a handful of friends waited in the reception, including Egyptian exiles and activists who had long been comrades of Alaa. Despite her visibly ailing condition, Laila’s mind remained sharp. In a frail voice, she asked about my health, my work, and my time in Germany, all while weakly holding my hand. “Do you know when the first time I saw you and Alaa was?” I asked Laila. “It was on Black Wednesday, 25 May 2005. The National Democratic Party thugs were beating you and Alaa, and the rest of us, in front of the Journalists’ Syndicate.” She laughed and recalled, “Yes, that was the day Alaa decided to become an activist.”
Despite belonging to a veteran activist family, Alaa was primarily interested in tech till the day when Mubarak’s ruling party thugs assaulted him and his mother during a pro-democracy gathering. That’s when he energetically called on his fellow bloggers to organize, helped ferment online and offline activism, and took up a variety of causes from fighting police brutality to extending solidarity with striking workers, to overthrowing the ailing Mubarak’s regime in 2011.
Photo by Hossam el-Hamalawy
A Family’s Sacrifice and a Prisoner of Revolution
Laila’s desperate protest did not arise in a vacuum. It crowns a lifetime of resistance against tyranny. She hails from an illustrious Egyptian family of scholars and activists, and she herself became known for confronting police at protests, often being the last to leave the streets. Her late husband, Ahmed Seif al-Islam Abdel Fattah, was a leftist lawyer who endured torture and imprisonment under previous regimes. Together, they raised their children in an environment steeped in political awareness and courage. Their eldest, Alaa, born in 1981 and went on to embody Egypt’s hope for democratic change. Alaa emerged as a leading voice in the 2011 uprising that led to the toppling of Mubarak. A tech-savvy blogger and software developer, he championed free expression and human rights—a stance that would ultimately cost him his freedom.
Over the past 12 years, Alaa has spent most of his time behind bars under one government or another. The cycle of imprisonment began in the Mubarak era, with a brief arrest in 2006, and continued under the military junta that followed. In late 2011, during the post-revolution turmoil, Alaa was detained for organizing protests; his mother Laila famously staged a hunger strike to demand his release. Although freed after a couple of months, Alaa’s respite was short-lived. The July 2013 coup that brought General Abdel Fattah el-Sisi to power marked the start of a relentless crackdown. In November 2013, Alaa was arrested for violating a repressive new protest law. He was sentenced in 2015 to five years in prison for the “crime” of attending a peaceful demonstration. His sister Sanaa, then only 20, was also jailed in 2014 for protesting. At one point, Laila and her daughter Mona undertook a 76-day hunger strike to protest the siblings’ imprisonment. Tragedy compounded tragedy when Laila’s husband, Ahmed, died in August 2014 while two of his children were locked up.
After a brief release in 2019, Alaa was re-arrested in September of the same year amid a new wave of repression. In December 2021, he received another five-year sentence—this time for “spreading false news and harming Egypt’s national interest.” The charge was absurd: he had shared a Facebook post about torture in prison. A UN panel later concluded that Egypt was illegally detaining him. Alaa obtained British citizenship through his mother, who was born in London, raising his family’s hopes that the UK could secure his freedom. But as his sentence dragged on, Alaa’s resolve turned to hunger strikes as a last resort weapon.
In April 2022, Alaa embarked on a prolonged hunger strike. For over 200 days, he consumed only minimal calories—a cup of tea and a spoonful of honey—to protest his mistreatment and demand the release of Egypt’s political prisoners. As Egypt prepared to host the COP27 climate summit in November 2022, Alaa seized the world’s attention: on the summit’s opening day, he escalated his strike to a water-only fast, declaring he would rather die than be forgotten while Egypt basked in the international spotlight. “Today is the last day I will take a hot drink… tomorrow I will drink my last cup of tea in prison,” he wrote in a letter to his mother on the 213th day of his strike. For a few harrowing days during COP27, Alaa stopped even drinking water. Fearing that he was close to death, global pressure mounted on Egypt’s regime. The Egyptian authorities finally intervened—not with freedom, but with forced medical treatment. Alaa survived, ending his hunger strike after the summit in November 2022, yet he remained behind bars. By September 2024, his family expected him to be released if proper credit was given for the time he had served in pre-trial detention. Instead, the Sisi government reset his release date to at least 2027, effectively keeping him imprisoned indefinitely on baseless charges. It was this cruel indifference that pushed Laila, in her late 60s, to take on the mantle of protest herself, putting her life on the line for her son’s freedom.
In March 2025, after learning of his mother’s hospitalization, Alaa launched a new hunger strike from his prison cell, and at the time of writing, he had lost nearly one-third of his weight.
In the Shadow of Death, a Mother’s Resolve
For Laila, this hunger strike is the ultimate act of maternal devotion and protest, a personal struggle intertwined with the fate of her son and the conscience of a nation.
Her journey of resistance began on 30 September 2024, when Egyptian authorities refused to release Alaa at the end of what his family insists was his lawful sentence. Outraged by the regime’s intransigence and the British government’s slow response, Laila stopped eating that day. She set up camp outside government offices in London, including Downing Street, determined to make her son’s plight impossible to ignore.
Weeks turned to months as Laila’s hunger strike stretched on. By late November 2024, she had surpassed 55 days without solid food. Still, neither Egypt’s generals nor Britain’s diplomats budged. Her resilience only grew. Doctors warned that her life was in grave danger as the strike passed the four‐month mark. In February 2025, around day 130, Laila suffered a dangerous collapse in blood sugar and was rushed to St. Thomas’ Hospital in London. Hooked to an IV drip for electrolytes, she remained alert and even witty. She vowed to continue “until Alaa is free”, unless Britain’s leaders achieved tangible progress on his case.
By late May 2025, Laila had crossed 245 days without food, and her condition became critical. She was hospitalized for a second time as her frail body teetered on the edge of organ failure. Still, lying in a ward overlooking the Houses of Parliament, she refused to relent.
Egypt’s Carceral State Under Sisi’s Rule
The plight of Alaa and his mother’s hunger strike is one story among thousands in Egypt’s modern tragedy. Under President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, Egypt has constructed a vast carceral state – an apparatus of repression on a scale unprecedented in the country’s contemporary history. Since Sisi’s 2013 coup, tens of thousands of political dissidents have been jailed: Islamists, liberal activists, leftists, journalists, and academics. No segment of society has been spared.
The numbers behind Egypt’s incarceration drive are staggering. Since Sisi seized power, the government has embarked on an unprecedented prison-building spree. By 2021, at least 34 new prisons had been constructed to house the rapidly growing population of detainees.
Despite the euphemisms and glossy promotional videos of these new facilities, conditions remain appalling. Cells built for five or six people now cram in 20 or more, with inmates sleeping on floors amid dismal hygiene standards. Basic needs like ventilation, exercise, and medical care are routinely denied. Torture and abuse are systematic: human rights monitors have documented rampant beatings, electrical shocks, sexual violence, and indefinite solitary confinement for prisoners of conscience. Deaths in custody have soared—at least 958 prisoners (including children) died behind bars from 2013 to 2019 alone, with over 1,000 deaths recorded by 2022. The vast majority of these fatalities resulted from intentional denial of medical care or outright torture, grim testaments to a regime that rules by brutality.
President Sisi and his security chiefs deny holding “political prisoners,” insisting that stability and security are paramount and that those jailed are criminals or terrorists. But the evidence belies these claims. Rights groups describe an unrelenting campaign to “muzzle political opponents, activists and media”, where arbitrary detention, enforced disappearances, and torture occur with impunity. Whole families have been punished – relatives of exiled dissidents harassed or arrested – and even social media influencers and minority communities (like LGBTQ people) have been swept up in the dragnet on vague charges of immorality or dissent. Sisi’s judiciary, meanwhile, has handed down mass death sentences and lengthy prison terms in sham trials, including against hundreds of members of the outlawed Muslim Brotherhood after the 2013 coup. In this climate, Alaa’s ordeal is emblematic: he is one of tens of thousands of critics jailed by a regime known for severe repression.
For Laila, watching her son languish in this system has meant a decade of heartbreak and fortitude. Since 2014, her life has been “one long attempt to secure [Alaa’s] release and ensure his life in prison is bearable.” She has camped outside prison gates to deliver food and books to Alaa, often enduring abuse from guards. She has rallied support from international authors and celebrities, leveraging Alaa’s status as an award-winning writer and technologist. And now, as a last resort, she has turned her own body into a weapon of moral protest. Her resolve in the face of Egypt’s machinery of oppression has made her an icon of resistance, even as the state hopes her protest will fade in silence.
Western Complicity in Egypt’s Repression
Laila Soueif’s struggle involves not only Egypt’s regime but also the international system of alliances and interests that has supported Sisi’s iron rule. At the core of her protest is a deep frustration with both of her governments: “the Egyptian government that heartlessly refused to release [Alaa]” when his sentence was up, “and the British government, which has been regrettably timid in pushing for its citizen’s freedom.”
Western powers have expressed concern for human rights in Egypt. In practice, they have continued to support Sisi’s government through military aid, economic deals, diplomatic legitimacy, and financial bailouts, prioritizing strategic interests over principles. The U.S., in particular, has been Egypt’s key patron since the late 1970s. This patronage has continued largely unabated even as Sisi carried out the bloody 2013 coup and the subsequent massacre of over 800 protesters at Cairo’s Rabaa Square. While the Obama administration briefly froze some arms deliveries, Washington quickly resumed full military assistance despite the lethal crackdown. Egypt receives approximately $1.3 billion in U.S. military aid annually, making it one of the top recipients of American security assistance.
U.S. law ostensibly ties a portion of this aid to human rights conditions, and indeed, since 2020, the U.S. has withheld a token amount (around $320 million) to press for improvements. But in practice, administrations frequently waive these conditions. In late 2023, for example, President Biden’s Secretary of State used waiver restrictions and granted Egypt the full aid package, citing “clear and consistent improvements” in human rights. This decision came even as rights groups reported that Egypt’s repression remains as widespread as ever, with the government freeing a few hundred political prisoners only to arrest far more in their place. The episode underscored a familiar pattern: U.S. strategic interests – Egypt’s role in regional security, stability, and counterterrorism–take precedence over human rights concerns. A State Department spokesperson candidly justified the 2023 aid disbursal as “important to advancing regional peace,” noting Egypt’s help in the Gaza ceasefire talks and its “contributions to U.S. national security priorities.” Over the years, American presidents have maintained close ties with Sisi; former President Trump even affectionately referred to him as “my favorite dictator,” a sardonic acknowledgment of Sisi’s autocracy, alongside steadfast U.S. support. Despite occasional rebukes, Washington’s message to Cairo has been clear: the checkbook remains open, and criticisms are largely rhetorical.
European governments and institutions have similarly forged partnerships with Sisi’s Egypt, prioritizing other agendas over human rights. The European Union, as a whole, has courted Egypt as a “strategic partner,” particularly on issues of migration control. In March 2024, EU leaders went to Cairo to finalize a landmark deal: a €7.4 billion aid package for Egypt aimed at shoring up its faltering economy and “upgrading” political ties. The agreement, spearheaded by leaders of Italy, Greece, Germany, Belgium, and the European Commission, was explicitly designed to reward Egypt for its efforts in stemming the flow of migrants from the Middle East and Africa to Europe, while
Individual European states have also deepened ties: France, Germany, Italy, and others have sold Egypt tens of billions in weapons, making Egypt one of the world’s top arms importers. Between 2016 and 2020, Egypt was the globe’s third-largest weapons buyer, and the second-largest importer of French arms, snapping up fighter jets, warships, and missiles. Such deals continued even after the European Parliament called for an arms embargo following the killing of an Italian student in Cairo. They were often financed by European banks and governments themselves, thereby entangling vested interests in the continuation of Sisi’s rule. European leaders have welcomed Sisi on the world stage; France’s President Emmanuel Macron even awarded him the Grand Cross of the Légion d’Honneur in 2020, quietly, to avoid public outrage. The result is that European diplomacy toward Egypt has often held back, content with polite private “concerns” while publicly embracing Sisi as a crucial ally.
Gulf Arab allies, such as the UAE and Saudi Arabia, have also invested heavily in Egypt, but Western governments and banks have consistently provided the backstop. The upshot is a form of complicity: even as Western officials criticize Egypt’s human rights record in words, their money and weapons keep flowing to Sisi’s coffers, bolstering a regime that jails poets and grandmothers alike.
Laila Soueif’s own experience painfully reflects this dynamic. As a British citizen, she expected the UK to defend her son’s rights. And Britain has spoken up – to a point. Prime Minister Keir Starmer and his predecessors have raised Alaa’s case in meetings with Sisi, and the UK government has formally demanded access to visit the imprisoned activist. Yet, in Laila’s view, London’s efforts have been far too timid and bureaucratic.
As Laila’s condition grew critical in late May, pressure on London intensified. The UN Working Group on Arbitrary Detention issued a landmark opinion declaring Alaa’s imprisonment unlawful and demanding Egypt release him “immediately.” The question remains whether Britain, the US, and EU partners will leverage their considerable influence to insist on freedom for Alaa and others who share his fate.
The Unfinished Fight for Justice
As of this writing, Alaa turns 42 years old behind bars – another birthday stolen by a system intent on breaking him. And his mother, Laila, enters her ninth month without eating, close to death, yet steadfast that she will do whatever it takes to free her son. Her hunger strike stands as a searing moral indictment of both Egypt’s regime and its enablers abroad. It is a mother’s act of love and defiance, forged in the same spirit that drove Egyptians to demand dignity in Tahrir Square fourteen years ago.
Laila’s frail body now carries the weight of that struggle. Each day she survives is a reminder of the human cost of Egypt’s police state, and a challenge to a world that has largely looked away. Her story is intensely personal, yet it echoes the resilience of countless Egyptians who continue to resist injustice in whatever way they can. Whether Laila Soueif’s hunger strike will achieve its immediate aim, Alaa’s release, remains uncertain. The Sisi government has proven brutally indifferent to the value of Egyptian lives, and it may yet ignore even the death of a peaceful protester like Laila. But her action has already laid bare the reality of Egypt’s repression and the complicity of powerful nations. It forces an uncomfortable question: Must a mother die on the doorstep of 10 Downing Street for the world to heed the cries for justice in Egypt?
Laila’s fight is a clarion call to re-examine the West’s relationship with Egypt’s regime. It is a plea for consistent principle over cynical realpolitik – for the UK, US, and EU to match words with deeds and stop enabling the machinery of torture that has ensnared Alaa and so many others. As Laila hovers between life and death, her courage shines a light on all those unjustly confined in Egypt’s prisons and all the families who suffer with them. Her story will not end with her strike; whether in triumph or tragedy, it will be remembered as a testament to a mother’s love and an indictment of a regime’s cruelty.
The world should not let Laila Soueif’s sacrifice be in vain–nor forget the cause that inspired it: “Free Alaa!”