Disinformation, Social Manipulation and Expanded Authoritarian Digital Control in Egypt

In August, the Ministry of Interior and the Supreme State Public Prosecution in Egypt escalated a crackdown on TikTok content creators, arresting dozens, predominantly women who had gained fame and income through their online content and seemed to share modest social background. They were charged with publishing content that violates “public morals” and “family values.” According to a statement by the Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights (EIPR), this crackdown was preceded by a digital campaign calling for their arrest, sparked by allegations made by a TikTok user accusing other female TikTok content creators of operating an international organ trafficking ring. [1] Despite a lack of supporting evidence, these claims fueled moral panic and security concerns, setting the stage for subsequent arrests under moral related charges. Prior to these arrests, the Public Prosecution received several complaints from lawyers, including one signed by 32 lawyers against ten content creators.

This hostile, ongoing state security campaign is not new but signifies a peak of a broader and persistent trend of arrests targeting online content creators over the past five years, to monitor and control online content and expression in Egypt. However, a question remains as to why the authorities significantly intensified the crackdown at this particular moment.

The article seeks to address this question by drawing on findings from qualitative research aimed at unpacking the complex interplay of the political, economic  and social structures driving state and non-state technology-facilitated violence in Egypt, as well as its implications on security and wellbeing of survivors . Conducted in 2024, the study is part of the Feminist Internet Research Network (FIRN) and  was hosted by Cairo 52 Legal Research Institute. The article is structured into three sections: the first details the background, context and objectives of the research; The second briefly describes the approach and methodology; and the third section discusses one of the research findings, highlighting its connection to the recent wave of arrests targeting TikTok content creators.

Escalating repression

Digital technologies, such as the internet, social media and artificial intelligence (AI), continue to shape our personal, social and economic experiences as well as political engagement, blurring the boundaries between the “virtual” and the “real”. However, for over a decade, these technologies have been increasingly co-opted and exploited by repressive governments, including those in South-West Asia and North Africa (SWANA)[2], as instruments for control and repression undermining fundamental human rights, such as freedom of speech, privacy and socioeconomic rights.

For instance, several governments across the region have weaponised these technologies and related legislation to monitor, control and silence online expression and dissent. Laws like the Anti-Cyber and Information Technology Crimes Law, has granted authorities sweeping power to tighten their grip on the digital realm, intensify online censorship, wield mass surveillance and target a wide range of groups, under the pretext of preserving “national security” and “family values”.[3] Those targeted include digital content creators, queer individuals, migrants, activists, human rights defenders and other online users. Moreover, non-state actors such as technology and social media corporations a play major role in perpetuating government repression by providing surveillance infrastructure and related technologies, profiting significantly from maintaining and expanding these systems of control.[4] A regional mapping of tactics and narratives employed by an assemblage of key state and non-state actors across the SWANA region, illustrated an orchestrated and escalating pattern of digital repression through the region.[5]

For over a decade, these technologies have been increasingly co-opted and exploited by repressive governments, including those in South-West Asia and North Africa (SWANA)[2], as instruments for control and repression undermining fundamental human rights.

To understand the origins of this trend, it is essential to situate these repressive practices within the broader historical, political and socioeconomic context of the region, particularly since 2011. In the aftermath of the so-called Arab Spring – a critical moment in history that highlighted the role of the internet as a catalysts for mobilisation towards political and social justice in the digital era – the region has witnessed escalating repression, especially by Arab regimes, who exploited technologies to diminish any potentially emerging political or social movements, under the guise of fighting terrorism.[6] Politically, Arab regimes have enacted new restrictive laws and weaponised existing ones to legitimise crackdowns on dissent. Tactics such as eroding civic spaces, forced disappearance, arbitrary arrest and revocation of citizenship are systematically deployed to undermine freedom of speech, expression and assembly and other fundamental rights.[7]

In addition, the region continues to face socioeconomic challenges amid ongoing genocidal wars, heightened militarisation of states and deeply rooted inequalities. These challenges have been further exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic, which exposed underlying structural weaknesses and aggravated preexisting issues such as unemployment, widespread poverty, growing inequality and fragile social protection systems. Consequently, socioeconomic rights have been severely undermined, reinforcing repression and violence against marginalised groups by both state and non-state actors.[8] Moreover, this repression has expanded into the digital sphere. Through an authoritarian approach to internet regulation and governance, regimes turned a space once central to political and social organising into a heavily policed realm, extending control beyond national borders. The transnational dimension of digital repression is facilitated by the advancements in affordable technology and the transfer of sophisticated surveillance tools, such as spyware.[9]

Digital repression in Egypt

Defined as the use of information and communications technology to surveil, coerce or manipulate individuals or groups, digital repression in Egypt is widespread and pervasive.[10] It involves multiple mechanisms deployed by both state and non-state actors. These include online censorship by restricting content and access to information through internet regulations or repressive legislation. For example, over 600 websites, including human rights and independent media platforms, have been blocked since 2017.[11] Additionally, it also involves mass and targeted cyber surveillance. Other measures include social manipulation and disinformation, as well as persecution of online users. These practices often overlap with each other and with other traditional forms of repression, such as random street security checks, detention and physical and sexual assaults. Together, these repressive mechanisms form an integrated ecosystem of control that strengthens the regime’s capabilities for monitoring, intimidating and silencing anyone who challenges its narrative or the social order it strives to maintain.

Such digital repression does not exist in a vacuum. Since the current regime came to power in 2013, its policies and legislations that were claimed to “preserve national security” and “combat terrorism” have led to a tight control. This is evident in the criminalisation of expression and silencing of dissident voices, be they political or related to women’s or minority rights, pointing to a persistent and expanding infringement of fundamental rights, such as freedom of speech, expression and assembly.

Together, these repressive mechanisms form an integrated ecosystem of control that strengthens the regime’s capabilities for monitoring, intimidating and silencing anyone who challenges its narrative or the social order it strives to maintain.

This human rights crisis is marked by grave abuses, such as enforced disappearances, arbitrary detention and inhumane prison conditions, as well as sexual and gender-based torture and ill treatment, including sexual harassment, virginity tests for women and forced anal and genital examination for LGBTQI+ people, especially gay men and trans women. These practices are systematically deployed with impunity.[12] This crisis is also reflected in the systematic erasure of civic spaces. For instance, Non-Governmental Organisations Law 149/2019 imposes strict conditions on non-governmental and civil society organisations, limiting their ability to operate independently or collaborate with other local or international organisations.[13]

In addition to political repression, the country’s economy, militarised by the regime, has been facing crises for over a decade.[14] These have been compounded by the COVID-19 pandemic as well as regional instabilities due to the ongoing ethnic cleansing and genocide in Gaza and Sudan. This occurs alongside economic reform strategies driven by external loans, notably from the International Monetary Fund, which have funded mega infrastructure projects.[15] Moreover, these reforms have involved deep austerity measures without any plans to mitigate their impacts on social and economic rights of the population, especially the most vulnerable. Austerity measures such as cuts to food, energy subsidies and cuts to spending on social protection programs, have contributed to increased poverty, reflected in the change of the class structure in the country with a significant decline in the size of the middle class.[16] Additionally, these measures included cuts to spending on health that adversely impacted access to quality healthcare services.[17]

Technology-facilitated violence

Given this context, it is no surprise that state and non-state violence – a byproduct of political and socioeconomic deterioration – is prevalent. In the digital sphere, which is occupied by more than 90% of Egyptians (over 100 million), violence facilitated by digital technologies has become widespread, turning it into a space of heightened and pervasive harm and abuse.[18] In this research, technology-facilitated violence (TFV), a form of digital repression, is defined as:

[A]ny act that is committed, assisted, aggravated, or amplified by the use of information communication technologies or other digital tools, that results in or is likely to result in physical, sexual, psychological, social, political, or economic harm, or other infringements of rights and freedoms.[19]

TFV includes social manipulation and disinformation and trolling, doxing, harassment, cyberstalking, defamation to undermine credibility and reputation, hate speech, death or rape threats and online entrapment for political or social activity.[20]. Additionally, it involves strategies used by state and non-state sponsored actors, to shape beliefs and narratives to manipulate internet users and incite violence. Such violence targets a broad range of groups, including women, LGBTQI+ communities, migrants and refugee communities, activists and human rights defenders and other online users, with adverse impact on their health and their social and personal lives.[21]

In the digital sphere, which is occupied by more than 90% of Egyptians (over 100 million), violence facilitated by digital technologies has become widespread, turning it into a space of heightened and pervasive harm and abuse.

A global study measured the prevalence of gendered online violence in 51 countries illustrated that the greater the gender gap, the more prevalent the rates of violence. [22] In 2025, Egypt ranked 139th out of 148 countries on a global gender disparity index, following a decline from the 135th position the previous year.[23] This persistent and widening gender gap in Egypt points to an especially high risk and a growing prevalence of gendered technology-facilitated violence.

Moreover, existing systems of oppression, such as patriarchy, racism and classism play fundamental role in driving and legitimising TVF.[24] Patriarchy, for example, shapes social and gender norms that privileges men and place them in a superior position over women. It is also embedded in the legal system which discriminates against women and criminalises diverse gender identities and sexual orientations. For example, while no specific law criminalises same-sex relationships, Law No. 10 of 1961 originally enacted to combat sex work has been extended to arrest LGBTQI+ communities under charges of “habitual debauchery” and “prostitution”.[25] These systems perpetuate a culture of impunity where perpetrators of violence face little to no legal consequences, reinforcing a vicious cycle of harm and abuse, with severe repercussions on survivors’ personal, social and digital security and wellbeing.

There has been a growing body of work on technology-facilitated violence in Egypt over recent years, with many scholars focusing primarily on online violence against women. These studies, which have mostly used quantitative methods, alongside documentation and reports by civil society organisations, examined the enablers and consequences of violence perpetrated by non-state actors.[26] They explored how factors such as demographics, online behaviour and legal frameworks contribute to enabling technology-facilitated violence against women in Egypt, while also highlighting the repercussions on victims’ mental health.

While these contributions have attempted to provide an understanding of the issue, they fell short of capturing the scale and complexity of TFV, often narrowly framing it as mainly a “women’s issue”. This limited understanding overlooks how other groups, such as LGBTQI+ communities, migrants and others, experience this violence differently, perpetrated by both state and non-state actors. Moreover, the analysis undermined the intricate interplay of systems of oppression, such as racism and classism as well as political and economic structures, that shape individual experiences and resistance strategies. This gap hinders a nuanced understanding of the problem and fails to reflect the heterogeneous realities of those affected.

As technology- facilitated violence persists as a multifaceted and pervasive threat, it is imperative to examine the complex realities of violence and the far-reaching implications of such violence to inform resistance, policy and advocacy efforts. This requires an intersectional analysis of the complex political, economic, legal and digital systems that shape the experiences of violence, perpetrated by both state and non-state actors, as well as the responses and resistance strategies employed against it. This analysis must prioritise making visible the perspectives of a diverse range of groups affected by TFV, acknowledging their varied lived experiences. This approach is crucial not only to have an in-depth understanding of such violence but also to amplify the capacity and agency of survivors in their response and contestation.

These systems perpetuate a culture of impunity where perpetrators of violence face little to no legal consequences, reinforcing a vicious cycle of harm and abuse, with severe repercussions on survivors’ personal, social and digital security and wellbeing.

Accordingly, this research aims to provide an intersectional analysis of the political, economic and social structures that shape the realities of TFV, while also examining its impact on the health and physical and social security of survivors. It further explores the responses and resistance strategies employed by those affected. Ultimately, the study aims to offer recommendations for policy and advocacy initiatives to combat TFV in the context of Egypt.

METHODOLOGY

In this research, intersectionality was essential for analysing how TFV as a system of power and oppression intertwined with socioeconomic, technological and political structures, impacted the realities of individuals and influenced resistance.

Methods, data collection and analysis

We conducted a qualitative study, complemented with secondary data from diverse resources, such as news articles, op-eds and publications to deepen the analysis. Between October 2024 and January 2025, we carried out in-depth semi-structured online interviews with approximately 20 participants. We used both purposive and snowball sampling techniques to identify participants who were women (n=10), including one Sudanese woman participant and another who left the country during the past year. In addition, participants included members of the LGBTQI+ community (n=11). One queer participant was from Sudan and had moved to Egypt due to the war. Another participant left Egypt during the past year to seek asylum in a European country, fearing for his safety. The rest of the participants lived in Cairo, Delta and Upper Egypt. All participants experienced TFV during the past year, were between 20 and 39 years old and of middle- or lower-middle-class extraction. Moreover, participants included students, health practitioners, unemployed persons, digital content creators, women’s rights advocates and feminist activists. [27] 

The research team contacted participants via encrypted emails or the Signal application to explain the project and safety and security measures and to request their written consent. Interviews were conducted digitally using secure communication platforms and took an average of 90-120 minutes. As a means of ensuring informed consent, we began by discussing the research objectives, ensuring that participants understood all the necessary information, and explained how their data would be anonymised and used. Throughout the interviews, participants’ well-being took precedence over research goals. We checked in with participants periodically, refrained from pressuring them to disclose anything they were uncomfortable sharing, even if such disclosures might enrich the study, and stopped recording whenever they requested it, in case they wished to share confidential information but not record it. Additionally, we sent follow-up emails a few days after the interview to check on participants and remind them of available support resources. All recorded interview files were securely saved on an encrypted cloud research drive, accessible only by the research team to ensure data safety and confidentiality. Interviews were transcribed verbatim and anonymised. The recordings were turned into a written script and any identifying information, such as names or place of residence, was removed. The anonymised transcripts were translated from Arabic into English and reviewed for accuracy and reliability. Transcripts were then coded and analysed, using a thematic approach to the analysis.

This analysis must prioritise making visible the perspectives of a diverse range of groups affected by TFV, acknowledging their varied lived experiences. 

Virtual realities, tactics and enablers

Participants' experiences with technology-facilitated violence, particularly social manipulation and disinformation, illustrated how the current political climate and economic deterioration in Egypt are deeply intwined with existing oppressive systems, including racism, discriminatory legislation, patriarchal norms, further exacerbated by entrenched impunity. These forces continue to shape realities marked not only by pervasive violence, but also by acts of defiance and resistance. Additionally, these realities were remarkably heterogeneous, as participants' overlapping identities such as class, race, gender and social location influence the frequency and severity of violence perpetrated by both state and non-state actors.

The following section examines the ways in which the state systematically employs social manipulation and disinformation against a broad array of marginalised groups, including migrants and LGBTQI+ communities. By constructing demonising and criminalising narratives to  manufacture moral and security panics, the state targets these groups to deflect public anger and fortify its grip on society. The recent intensified crackdown against digital content creators mirrors these repressive practices, exposing a broader pattern where authorities use similar strategies to tighten and expand their social control and consolidate their authoritarian rule.

Disinformation, racialised and gender violence

During conversations with participants, we discussed the nexus between the current economic situation and the increased scale and magnitude of online violence. Wafaa, a Sudanese woman who has lived in Egypt most of her life and provides psychosocial support for refugee women, described how the economic crisis has contributed to fuelling a rise in racial and gendered violence, both online and offline. Since the Sudan war outbreak in April 2023, she has witnessed a spike in online disinformation, hate speech and xenophobia, particularly targeting Sudanese migrants and refugees.

According to Wafaa, she has consistently faced hostility and harassment because she is a dark-skinned Sudanese woman. Yet, the situation has worsened with the growing influx of Sudanese individuals seeking safety in Egypt due to the war. She recounted how digital platforms became breeding grounds for hate, with users blaming refugees, especially the Sudanese, for the economic decline. She mentioned:

“People were saying stuff like “You’re disgusting” and “We’re fed up with you.” I jumped in to say that Egypt and Sudan are one country. Then, people started trolling me with comments like “Why do you even care? You came here and made things worse” then they started messaging me through [Facebook] saying things like, “You only show up in the dark” or “If you hadn’t spoken up, we wouldn’t have noticed you.””

Racism has long persisted in Egypt, particularly targeting dark-skinned individuals and sub-Saharan Africans. Sudanese people frequently encounter violence that is not only racialised, but also gendered, perpetrated by both state and non-state actors.

Wafaa emphasised that her experience of gendered and racialised violence mirrors that of many of her friends, as well as of the migrant and refugee women she works with, who have faced similar hostility. Moreover, she explained how online hate speech spills into offline aggression:

“We’re constantly reminded that we’re Sudanese [and] getting called names or asked, “When are you going back to your country?” […] At the supermarket, someone said, “Sugar and oil prices went up since the Sudanese came.” I feel like some people are stirring things up online, and it just keeps spreading.”

Racism has long persisted in Egypt, particularly targeting dark-skinned individuals and sub-Saharan Africans.[28] Sudanese people frequently encounter violence that is not only racialised, but also gendered, perpetrated by both state and non-state actors.[29] However, in the months following April 2023, Egypt saw a sharp rise in racist and xenophobic narratives, fuelled by state and state-sponsored media propaganda that portrayed Sudanese migrants as economic “burdens”.[30] This anti-refugee sentiment was further intensified through a simultaneous coordinated incitement campaign on social media by state-sponsored actors, with hashtags calling for deportation and blaming refugees, including Sudanese refugees, for inflation and price hikes.[31]

This nationalist and hate narrative is not only aimed at scapegoating refugees for the state’s economic failures and inciting violence against them; it is also intended to overshadow exclusionary policies and restrictive legislations to control their inflows. These policies include mass arrests and deportations of Sudanese refugees and denial of asylum protections, as well as the swift adoption of Egypt’s first asylum law, widely criticised for further undermining refugee rights.[32] According to a joint report by the Refugees Platform in Egypt (RPE) and the Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights (EIPR), the policy of mass arrest and deportation is characterised by systematic, deliberate and indiscriminate targeting of recognised refugees, registered asylum seekers and others. This demonstrates a significant shift in Egypt’s treatment of refugees that stems from “a higher policy to strip refugees of protection and make them feel unsafe in the host country.”[33] This is evidenced by documentation from local actors showing that over 20,000 refugees were forcibly deported to Sudan in 2024, compared to just around 3,000 in 2023.[34]

The hostility and online hate that Wafaa experienced and witnessed were not merely a consequence of her being a dark-skinned Sudanese woman; rather, they were mainly driven by deeply rooted system of racism embedded within society and the state. This systemic and structural racism is perpetuated and reinforced by exclusionary policies targeting migrants and refugees. This is alongside the regime’s strategy of scapegoating refugees for its economic failure by constructing an anti-refugee rhetoric. Together, these drivers have fuelled the rise in gendered and racial violence, both online and offline, manifesting in hate speech, harassment, mass arrest and deportation, and other discriminatory and repressive practices.

This nationalist and hate narrative is not only aimed at scapegoating refugees for the state’s economic failures and inciting violence against them; it is also intended to overshadow exclusionary policies and restrictive legislations to control their inflows. 

Wafaa was not the only migrant with whom we spoke. We also had a conversation with Seif, a queer Sudanese in his twenties who sought safety in Egypt shortly after the outbreak of the war and who works on providing support to LGBTQI+ communities. Seif described experiencing violence at multiple levels. This included constant racial and gendered harassment, simply by walking in the street, where he would hear comments such as “Go back to your country,” or when someone recorded a video, mocking him and his friends, which was then posted online. Alongside this is his constant fear of state security entrapment, whether through random street checks or online persecution. He shared the following:

“There are ongoing police campaigns, and sometimes they do phone inspections. If they find something like this [dating app] on your phone, even if you try to hide it within another app, they can still tell. For me, it’s very risky, and I don’t want to deal with that, so I’m scared to use it.”

Similar to Wafaa, the risks Seif faces stem from the overlapping of systems discussed above. However, his experience showed an additional dimension of risk due to the criminalisation of LGBTQIA+ communities in Egypt (detailed in the following section), which poses additional threats to his safety and security. While he chose not to disclose more details about the specific nature of these threats to protect himself, his experience illustrates the heightened vulnerability of queer migrants and refugees to both online and offline violence.

Entrapment, extortion and discriminatory legislation

Queer relations are not explicitly criminalised under Egyptian law. However, the authorities frequently use vague vice laws to target and prosecute LGBTQI+ people under common charges of “habitual practice” or “prostitution and debauchery”, which may result in a prison term of up to three years. Moreover, the cybercrime law, with its family values provision, has increasingly been invoked, leading to intensifying (online) entrapment and prosecution of LGBTQIA+ communities that rely on digital evidence, sometimes fabricated or obtained through coercion. This evidence includes dating app conversations, personal photos, sexts, or other private communications, which are considered sufficient proof of a “morality crime”, unlike other laws that require evidence of sexual activity.[35]

During our investigation, we spoke with LGBTQI+ people from Cairo, Delta and Upper Egypt who experienced entrapment, both online and offline, by state security forces.[36] All 11 participants were based in Egypt, except for Kamel who was forced to leave the country during the past year, fearing prosecution. Kamel who frequently experienced entrapment, described one such incident:

“Just as I was getting in [the car], the police showed up. They grabbed the guy’s phone, went through it and saw everything. That’s when they took us to the station. It was rough. Luckily, no official report was filed, but I had my money and bankcard stolen. [The police officer] threatened me, saying that if he saw me again, it would be straight to prison. He kept repeating, “Next time, I won’t let you go” and hurling insults, curses and hitting me.”

The cybercrime law, with its family values provision, has increasingly been invoked, leading to intensifying (online) entrapment and prosecution of LGBTQIA+ communities that rely on digital evidence, sometimes fabricated or obtained through coercion.

This was not Kamel’s first experience, but it was the last before he fled the country, fearing for his safety. Another form of entrapment is through security checkpoints, where authorities randomly stop individuals, search and confiscate personal devices. This happens on streets, in public squares or metro stations. Fahd, another queer participant in his twenties, explained:

“Recently, I was walking along Abdel Moneim Riad Street when I was stopped and had my phone taken. […] In moments like that, I try my best to act in ways that seem “normal” or “expected”.”

Such entrapment practice is an old unlawful procedure that violates the individual’s right to privacy and form part of a broader strategy to monitor and suppress freedom of political speech.[37] However, this practice poses a heightened threat for those who are or are merely perceived to be gender or sexual non-conforming. This is particularly the case for tans-women and gay men who are disproportionately subjected to suspicion and arrest under the pretext of “protecting family values”. As Fahd illustrates, performing masculinity becomes a strategy to reduce the chances of suspicion and safeguard himself. This risk intensifies further for individuals with intersecting marginalised identities, as exemplified earlier by Seif, a queer Sudanese.

Entrenched impunity and heightened hostility

The criminalisation of gender and sexual non-conforming identities is not only enforced by security forces; it is also propagated by non-state actors who do not necessarily perceive it as violence, but rather as a “moral duty”. This sentiment was echoed by many research participants during our discussions, for example, Hazem shared:

“Most people don’t take [the harm] seriously. They think it’s normal, that we deserve it […], that we deserve to be treated this way, as less than human.”

Hazem and others shared this particularly when describing the harmful entrapment experiences perpetrated by non-state actors. Hazem is in his thirties, based in Egypt and often used dating apps to meet and connect with new people. During our discussions, he recounted how he agreed to meet a neighbour he trusted through a dating app, only to be ambushed:

“I felt safe to meet him at his place. I was sitting there and, out of nowhere, I noticed about five or six men in the apartment […] I managed to run, but they took my ID and went through all my personal details, they even took photos of it. They stole my money and belongings and kept saying things like, “We know where to find you, we have all your information and we’re coming to your house to expose you. Why are you even doing this?””

The criminalisation of gender and sexual non-conforming identities is not only enforced by security forces; it is also propagated by non-state actors who do not necessarily perceive it as violence, but rather as a “moral duty”.

Similarly, Fahd described an experience of online entrapment via a dating app. He and his friend connected with someone online and agreed to meet in person, only to discover that they were being targeted for extortion. He said:

“One of the men had a switchblade, the other held a kitchen knife. They took both our phones and my laptop and then demanded we sign a receipt for 60,000 pounds immediately. I was in complete shock, I panicked, my hands were shaking and I was terrified. My friend was trying to handle the situation, but it quickly escalated. My friend managed to slip away, open the door and shout that they were thieves. That’s when they grabbed the stuff and fled.”

The threats did not end there. The perpetrators continued to stalk and threaten Fahd and his friend, forcing them to leave their home for their safety. Fahd continues:

“It wasn’t over, they began sending my friend threatening photos, demanding money and threatening they were coming back. A few days later, one of them saw my friend riding his bike, stopped him in the street, started a fight and beat him up.”

Throughout the investigation, participants frequently reported experiencing entrapment and extortion. These experiences were not random or isolated incidents perpetrated only by individuals, they also occurred in a coordinated manner. This was exemplified in Ramy’s experience. Ramy, a queer participant in his early 20s, described a group in his city that systematically targets queer individuals using dating apps. He explained:

“They use dating apps, pretending they just want to meet and chat. One member of the group goes on the date first and later the others show up, claiming to be his friends and saying they’re gay too. Then they secretly record the meeting and use the footage to blackmail the person. They take their phone and anything else they can and they beat him severely. I witnessed one of these incidents myself and many of my friends have been assaulted by them. [… ] This person and his friends operate like a gang. It’s a serious issue here and we don’t know what to do. People say that the police are behind this group.”

By leveraging nationalist and religiously conservative narratives, the state manufactures moral panics to divert public anger over government failures onto marginalised groups.

Such “gangs”, as Ramy described them, are not confined to his city. Local actors have monitored the repeated use of this tactic across Egypt and some of these groups are believed to be state-sponsored.[38] While we could not fully verify this information, the very existence of these gangs highlights the widespread hostility towards LGBTQI+ communities. This hostility, which cannot be viewed in isolation from the current economic challenges, is further exacerbated by the criminalising legal environment discussed earlier, which makes reporting such crimes impossible and leads to sustaining a pervasive culture of impunity.

The experiences described above reflect a broader and persistent pattern of violence against LGBTQI+ communities, both online and offline. This violence is primarily enforced by the state and state-sponsored media, which portray LGBTQI+ people as an infiltrating Western influence that inherently threatens religion, society and culture. In fact, this framing has been a deliberate strategy deployed by Egyptian regimes. By leveraging nationalist and religiously conservative narratives, the state manufactures moral panics to divert public anger over government failures onto marginalised groups.[39] The current regime is no exception, having intensified security campaigns targeting queer individuals since coming to power in 2013. Between late 2013 and 2017, the average number of arrests surged to 66 per year, compared to just 14 annually over the previous 13 years.[40] This strategy not only legitimises state violence and infringes on queer individuals’ fundamental rights, but also fuels non-state violence with impunity. It shows how the state’s anti-rights discourse and policies create a perilous environment that perpetuates violence and abuse against LGBTQIA+ people.

Similar strategy and expanded control

Accounts from Wafaa, Seif, Kamel, Fahd, Ramy and other research participant, while not exhaustive, they reveal that both state and non-state technology-facilitated violence is neither random nor isolated. Their experiences highlight how the state strategically employs social manipulation and disinformation to construct moral and security panics. This strategy serves to redirect public attention and evade accountability by shifting focus away from underlying economic and political challenges. Through narratives that vilify and criminalise groups, such as migrants and LGBTQI+ people, framing them as “threats”, the state deliberately incites hatred, fuels public hostility and legitimises violence. Through these mechanisms, the state systematically undermines fundamental human rights as a core principle of its governance to maintain social control and consolidates authoritarianism.

The same strategy has been increasingly applied to criminalise online content creators over the past five years. Authorities have particularly targeted women from middle- and lower-middle-income backgrounds, reflecting the state growing hostility and censorship of the digital sphere and online expression. By invoking the rhetoric of family values and public morals, the state has justified the targeting and arrest of hundreds of content creators. This campaign began in 2020 when the Ministry of the Interior arrested a group of female TikTokers accused of “violating family values”, including one who was framed by the public prosecution as participating in an international human trafficking ring, sparking widespread moral panic. Since then, a persistent security campaign has been underway, criminalising digital content and expression under Article 25 of Egypt’s cybercrime law. According to EIPR, more than 151 individuals have been charged with violating Egyptian family values in at least 109 different cases, during the past five years. However, the true extent of this campaign is believed to be greater.[41]

In light of this, the recent escalation of security campaigns  targeting content creators must be understood not only as the state’s effort to maintain control and repress digital expression but also within the broader economic and geopolitical context. It unfolds amid mounting domestic anger over persistently deteriorating social and economic rights as well as outrage at Egypt’s inaction regarding the engineered famine and genocide in Gaza/Palestine. During such crises, scapegoating marginalised groups through moralistic rhetoric becomes a deliberate tactic to divert attention from core structural issues.

Through these mechanisms, the state systematically undermines fundamental human rights as a core principle of its governance to maintain social control and consolidates authoritarianism.

Repercussions of such violence are not abstract; they are grave and multifaceted. As described through the participants’ testimonies (discussed in the research report), TFV severely impact their safety, security and wellbeing. Additionally, consequences intensify and become multilayered at the intersection of multiple marginalised identities, compounded by systemic discrimination that obstructs access to essential legal and healthcare support. Despite these challenges, survivors actively resist through strategies such as strategic visibility, confrontation, documentation and digital archiving and community support networks. Many of these efforts would  greatly benefit from increased support and decentralisation, enabling expanded access to networks and reaching more communities.

Addressing technology-facilitated violence requires political will and structural reforms. State laws and policies should be enforced to provide fair legal protection for survivors, irrespective of their gender, sexual orientation, race or class. For instance, the state must cease using legislation like the Cybercrime Law and related provisions as tools to target and detain online users. Additionally, inhumane practices that violate bodily integrity, such as forced anal or vaginal examinations of LGBTQI+ individuals, must be prevented. Non-state actors, such as technology companies, should adopt human rights-centred content moderation policies to effectively respond to online violence, including hate speech and defamation.

Finally, increased funding and support for grassroots and community building are essential. Funding organisation should prioritise long-term funding and support for groups working on digital security, legal aid and psychosocial support for marginalised communities, especially beyond urban areas. Importantly, funding should also support prevention measures and initiatives such as knowledge production and educational programs that deepen understanding of the role of different key actors, including technology companies. This includes examining how violence is embedded in the design and processes of technologies and what strategies and tools can be developed to shift power dynamics in the creation and use of digital tools to better prevent technology-facilitated violence.