Exclusive Interview with the Bishop of Egypt on the Detention and Abuse of AROPL Believers

CAIRO — As international concern mounts over the fate of the twelve detained members of the Ahmadi Religion of Peace and Light (AROPL) in Egypt, a key figure working behind the scenes is Bishop Mahmoud Elkersh (Imran Ali). He has been in constant contact with the families of the disappeared, documenting their stories and offering support. He speaks to The Divine Just State about what he has learned from recent visitation reports, the brutal conditions inside 10th of Ramadan Prison, and the long shadow of religious persecution in Egypt.

Let’s start with the most recent developments. What do we now know about the condition of the twelve detained believers?

Just today, Omar Mahmoud Abdelmaguid Mohamed Ibrahim’s wife, Samira, was granted a short, heavily surveilled visit. From what she told me—and I struggle to even say this without tearing up—Omar and the others were subjected to daily beatings for thirty days straight. Every day. Omar now has a deformation in his spine. They delayed moving him to prison because his body was so visibly battered. They didn’t want the outside world to see what they had done.

Before they were transferred to 10th of Ramadan Prison, they were held at Egypt’s National Security headquarters—three floors underground. You had to take an elevator down two levels, and then stairs. They were kept there in utter secrecy, beyond the reach of daylight. That is where they were tortured the most.

That’s horrifying. Are all twelve believers being held together now?

Yes, they are currently in one small room together. The authorities keep them isolated from all other detainees. They do not want them to talk about their faith with anyone in prison. They are not allowed to sleep—deliberately. And worse, they’ve been subjected to torture that includes electric shocks, followed by further beatings. This is not just persecution; it’s systematic, state-sanctioned torture.

And one case still shakes me—Hussein Al-Tinawi, a Syrian national. He was electrocuted so severely that he finally gave a false confession, saying he had renounced his faith—just to make the torture stop.

What else did Samira observe during her visit with Omar?

The visit was only ten minutes. There were many officers present. It was clear that Omar could not speak freely. She told me that he looked like a shadow of himself. Thin. Pale. Visibly beaten up. She was only able to grasp fragments. But what she did manage to share—about the lack of sleep, the psychological torment, the limited food, and the condition of the cell—is more than enough to raise urgent alarm.

What can you tell us about the conditions of their detention in the early days?

For the first thirty days, they were held in solitary confinement, in completely dark rooms, given almost no food. We could not make any contact. They vanished on the 10th of March and only reappeared in the middle of April. No lawyer could establish contact. No police station had a record of their whereabouts.

Imagine that—thirty days in pitch darkness, with only hunger and fear as companions. It is a form of psychological torture. These men are not criminals. They are believers, teachers, fathers—Omar himself owns a small coffee shop in Shubra, a father of four, including twin girls who are just eight years old. He is 40. His family has been torn apart for the ‘crime’ of distributing flyers and hanging banners from bridges.

Are there any ways the outside world can help improve their conditions?

We’ve discovered something painfully ironic: prison conditions can be purchased. For 15,000 Egyptian Pounds—roughly 300 U.S. dollars—we can upgrade their cell so it at least has a functioning toilet. It’s humiliating that dignity can be bought in such a way, but we are trying. Every small improvement means less suffering.

How are the families of the detained?

They are devastated. These men were not only peaceful believers—they were also the sole breadwinners for their families. Most of them come from very modest backgrounds. They ran small shops, worked labor jobs, lived paycheck to paycheck. And now, with them imprisoned, their wives are left with no income at all.

Some of the mothers can’t even afford to put food on the table. They’re struggling to feed their children, to keep a roof over their heads. Our religious community is doing everything we can. Believers are pooling money, trying to pay for lawyers and rent. We’re stepping in because no one else will. But it’s unsustainable. We’re being asked to carry the burden of state persecution simply because our brothers handed out flyers and hung banners. That’s it.

Has there been any response from international bodies to this treatment?

Amnesty International issued a statement after the disappearances. Only then did the authorities admit where the men were being held. That pressure worked—at least momentarily. But the torture, the isolation, and the psychological warfare continue. The international community must do more than issue statements. We need action.

What does this moment mean for Egypt’s promise of religious freedom?

It means nothing. Not a single word in the constitution about freedom of belief has any weight when people can be electrocuted and beaten because they hang a banner. Egypt is not merely failing to protect religious minorities—it is actively persecuting them.

Are there any indications of a trial or legal process beginning?

Nothing. They’ve been held over a month already and still no court date. This is the game the system plays—indefinite pretrial detention. This prison is notorious for extending it again and again. There’s no accountability, no timeline, no end in sight. It’s a slow-motion erasure of human beings.