Just five hours before President Obama announced Sunday night that Bin Laden was dead, instantly capturing the collective mind of the world, there was something else on American television that I wish would capture the world mind just as effectively.   CBS reporter Lara Logan spoke out on the news program ’60 Minutes’ about her extended mass rape in Tahrir Square in the middle of the celebrations on February 11, the night of Mubarak’s resignation.

I’m running the clip here partly in shame, because I was among those whose first reaction was to say “Oh, she’s exaggerating, she was just badly groped.”  That is, I didn’t want to know — not then, not there.  I didn’t want the jubilation of that evening spoiled by such ugly reality.  I was in denial.

Yes, this was rape.  Multiple rape.  Rape aimed at pulling her apart, inside and out.  So first, take 13 minutes and watch this video of her account:

[youtube=http://youtu.be/_g0S6UQem1k]

And if you still question the title of this post, consider these extracts from a New York Times story two days later on Iraqi victims of torture (by the Iraqi army, American forces, Saddam’s thugs, Al Qaeda in Iraq, and various militias):

He described… daily horrors like the suicide of a young prisoner who electrocuted himself with wires from a hot plate after being raped by soldiers.

An 11-year-old girl and her family revealed that she was raped by a group of men who then shaved her head and threw her on a trash heap.

A woman whose husband was an interpreter for the Americans had water and salt thrown on her and was then tied to electrified metal bars.  Then: “They raped her more than once in front of us,” R. said, looking down as he spoke. “She died two or three days later.  There were four guys who raped us….  I was destroyed.  It feels as if something is missing.  I don’t mingle at all with people.”

As Susan Brownmiller made crystal clear in Against Our Will (published in 1975 and, sadly, as essential reading today as it was then), rape has nothing to do with sexual attraction.  It’s brutalization:   the forced domination of another person through their genitalia, whether female or male, 5 years old or 90 years old, close relative or total stranger.  The means of this can be a hand or a penis, a gun or a knife or a broken bottle, a baton or a broomstick or a bathroom plunger (remember Abner Louima?).  Whatever the weapon, the aim is to violently, deliberately, and painfully invade and break another person’s physical and psychological autonomy, will, integrity, humanity.  That is:  torture.

Rape was recognized as a war crime in 1949 (the Fourth Geneva Conventions) and as a crime against humanity in 2001.  Amnesty International has consistently reported on rape as torture: “In every armed conflict investigated by Amnesty International… the torture of women was reported, most often in the form of sexual violence.”  But when rape happens in a dorm room or at a party — even one as large as Tahrir Square on February 11 — we seem less able to recognize it for what it is.  Which is why Amnesty International also reports that in peacetime Europe as elsewhere, victims of rape are consistently denied justice.

This is what we need to get straight in our minds, once and for all:

Whenever rape happens, wherever it happens, and whatever form it takes, it is a crime against humanity.

A crime, that is, against every one of us.

The anthem of the uprising?  This song was recorded in Tahrir Square on Friday, and subtitled and posted over the weekend:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPhj5XnPjaU]

It should come as no surprise, however, that Husni Mubarak and Omar Suleiman are tone deaf.  Human Rights Watch lists 297 confirmed killed since January 28.

The magnificence of it!

After two days of concerted attacks by plain-clothes security police and paid goons armed with guns, machetes, whips, batons, and nail-studded maces;  after the coordinated attempt of the Mubarak regime to intimidate protestors, to stop news coverage by arresting and roughing up journalists, and to create the appearance of chaos, this:

The largest protest crowds so far.

And not only in Cairo.  In every Egyptian city.  All calling for Mubarak to step down.  Now.  And all peaceful.

Courage, it turns out, is infectious:  One of the two lead anchors of a government TV station quit to join the protestors, as did the station’s manager, declaring themselves unable to keep up  the hypocrisy;  the head of the Arab League arrived in Tahrir Square to speak to protestors;  even the government turned up in person, when the minister of defense came to ‘review the troops’ and also spoke with protestors, signaling at least a degree of support.

The violence that was designed to keep people away from public protest seems instead to have reinforced their determination.  And here, halfway round the world in Seattle, I am amazed and humbled and inordinately grateful for their courage.

I’m aware that however much I’m feeling, it’s a tiny fraction of what the vast majority of Egyptians are feeling, both in Egypt and abroad — a fraction of what all those living under Middle Eastern dictatorships are feeling as they remain glued, as I am, to the live feeds of news organizations such as Al Jazeera and, amazingly, the most powerful and irrepressible news update of all, Twitter feeds — from rights organizations like Human Rights Watch (@hrw), from reporters like Nicolas Kristof (@NickKristof), and from Egyptian activists on the ground (check my RTs at @accidentaltheo for some of them).

I’m riding an emotional roller coaster of empathy and hope, but it’s the people in the squares and streets of Egypt who are, literally, placing their lives on the line.

Would you?  Would I?  Do we have any idea how much we take for granted what others are willing to die for?

Whatever happens in Egypt in the next few days, watch, follow it closely, spread the news, and be awed — and inspired — by the infectious power of courage.

It’s such a heady proposition:  an end to dictatorial regimes in the Middle East, a newly empowered citizenry, the prospect of real democracy.  As Nick Kristof tweeted early on, Innaharda, ehna kullina Misriyeen — “today, we are all Egyptians.”

El-Baradei says Mubarak has until Friday to get on the plane and leave Egypt.  But it seems he’s not going to fade gently into the good night.  “I wish it could be done so gently,” wrote one commenter on my previous post, rightly sceptical of my optimism.

And now, the thugs.  And the specter, after ten days of exhilarating hope, of heartbreak.

The thugs are in Cairo’s Tahrir Square as I write, described absurdly by the New York Times and other news organizations as “Mubarak supporters.”  The NYT should read its own The Lede blog, which reports that they are plain-clothes police and paid provocateurs, and that ten bucks a day is the going rate.

Nick Kristof details the menace of them:

I’ve been spending hours on Tahrir today, and it is absurd to think of this as simply “clashes” between two rival groups. The pro-democracy protesters are unarmed and have been peaceful at every step. But the pro-Mubarak thugs are arriving in buses and are armed — and they’re using their weapons.

In my area of Tahrir, the thugs were armed with machetes, straight razors, clubs and stones. And they all had the same chants, the same slogans and the same hostility to journalists. They clearly had been organized and briefed. So the idea that this is some spontaneous outpouring of pro-Mubarak supporters, both in Cairo and in Alexandria, who happen to end up clashing with other side — that is preposterous. It’s difficult to know what is happening, and I’m only one observer, but to me these seem to be organized thugs sent in to crack heads, chase out journalists, intimidate the pro-democracy forces and perhaps create a pretext for an even harsher crackdown.

Now Al-Jazeera‘s live feed shows them throwing Molotov cocktails at the anti-Mubarak protestors, and heavy rocks from the rooftops.  They’re beating up journalists, and on the hunt in particular for Al-Jazeera reporters.  There have been several more deaths, and many serious injuries.

Mubarak’s speech last night gave the option of chaos without him (the old apres-moi-le-déluge) or stability with him.  But the only chaos is with him.

I still hope against hope, but the memories I’ve been struggling against rise up threateningly:  Iran’s “green revolution” of 2009 brutally put down;  Tianenmen Square in 1989, brutally put down;  the ousting of the Shah in 1979, taken over by a theocracy and turned into yet another dictatorial regime.

As the call goes out for even larger demonstrations in Egypt on Friday, with a march on the presidential palace, it comes down, it seems, to the military.  Which way will they go?  If the march on the palace does take place, what will they do?

Will they fire on the marchers?  Or will there be a military coup, with the army openly taking over?  (And if so, would the generals assume power themselves, or hand over to a civilian interim government?)   Or will Mubarak — I’m sorry, I can’t help it, I insist on hoping — finally get on the damn plane?

I watch with tears in my eyes, battling the despair creeping up in my heart, wishing, hoping against hope…