Space is never something that people simply use; we make meaning out of space through how we use it. And the revolution has seen a transformation in public space. That it is no longer surprising to see public walls – even those of Cairo’s administrative Mogamma building or Supreme Court – adorned with political graffiti speaks powerfully to this transformation, and to public space both as a site and instrument of revolutionary struggle.

This transformation takes place against the backdrop of urban planning that sought to limit the availability of open spaces in which citizens might congregate, and the development of gated communities for the wealthy that, along with exclusive parks, constitute a privatisation of space.

Emergency laws in place since Mubarak came to power and renewed periodically – most recently in September by the ruling military council – criminalises gatherings of more than just a few people. So in this sense, public space did not belong to the public at all. The January 25 Revolution can be seen in part as a re-appropriation of public space – a refusal to concede the streets and squares to the dictates of the security apparatus.

People all over the world have now heard of Egypt’s Tahrir Square, which has become a symbol not only of Egypt’s revolution, but of the resilience of people against state power. That there were references to Tahrir in banners seen at the 15 May demonstrations in Madrid, at Occupy Wall Street, and even a street sign at Occupy London is reflective of this. Tahrir has continued throughout the year to be a site of demonstrations and sit-ins, as well as state brutality against protesters. When people chant that they are going back to the square, or that legitimacy comes from the square, in protest against the appointment of Mubarak-era figure Kamal Ganzouri as prime minister, it is understood by all that the boundaries of Tahrir transcend the square in downtown Cairo. They are invoking the dreams and demands of the revolution: namely, bread, freedom and social justice.

Sometimes it is forgotten that Tahrir Square is a symbol of the revolution, and while it was certainly the revolution’s physical epicentre, it was not and is not the revolution itself. The revolution was and continues to be waged, fought, and defended way beyond Tahrir. Arbaeen Square and Qa’id Ibrahim Square far from Cairo have also gained symbolic status as sites of revolutionary struggle and popular anger. Testament to the symbolic potency of Tahrir Square, Arbaeen Square is often described as the Tahrir of Suez; Qaid Ibrahim Square as Alexandria’s Tahrir.

The port city of Suez, considered by many as one of the key engines of the revolution, has long been a site of resistance, and is an important locus of the workers’ struggle. The last major battle of the 1973 war took place in Suez, with Arbaeen Square filled with soldiers and civilians defending the city against Israeli forces.

Some of the fiercest fighting during the 18-day uprising took place in Suez, and the first martyr of the revolution was killed there. On 28 January – known as the “day of rage” – protesters torched the notorious Arbaeen police station. This followed on the heels of three days of attacks on demonstrations, killings and the arrest of hundreds of protesters. Several police stations were attacked throughout the country on that day. The burnt out shell of Arbaeen station is now adorned with graffiti blasting the regime and glorifying the revolution.

Protesters have returned to Arbaeen Square throughout the year for various activities, from staging sit-ins protesting the release on bail of officers accused of killing protesters

Article source: http://english.ahram.org.eg/NewsContent/1/114/32336/Egypt/-January-Revolution-continues/The-battle-for-public-space-Squares-and-streets-of.aspx