“THEIR main objective is to create fear,” says Mohamed Lotfy of the Egyptian Commission for Rights and Freedoms, a pressure group, referring to a series of arrest of activists as the government intensifies a long-running crackdown on dissent. Indeed, even as Mr Lotfy speaks, his phone rings: the police have arrested three more people.

A colleague, Ahmed Abdullah, himself sought by the security services, is putting on a brave face. Sitting in a café in Cairo, Mr Abdullah is sure he will be arrested—perhaps worse, he says, implying that the police might shoot him. “It is part of the price that we should pay for freedom.”

The government, on the other hand, appears nervous. In the months leading up to the fifth anniversary on January 25th of the uprising against Hosni Mubarak, the ousted dictator, the current government led by the strongman Abdel-Fattah al-Sisi has tried to dispel any danger of a repeat. Protests in 2014 and 2015 led to dozens of deaths and hundreds of arrests. Clerics, labour leaders and television hosts have been enlisted in the effort to keep people off the streets.

Activists claim they have no big plans for protests this year. But the government is rounding up perceived troublemakers with unrestrained vigour, adding to the tens of thousands of political detainees already languishing in Egyptian prisons. Most are accused of associating with outlawed groups, such as the Muslim Brotherhood, or organising protests, which are banned. Journalists and administrators of several Facebook pages have also been targeted. Police have even raided a theatre and art gallery in downtown Cairo.

A feature of the government’s crackdown is the secrecy surrounding many of the detentions. Mr Lotfy’s group says that between August and November more than 340 people “disappeared” into government custody. That does not count Sinai, where the government has blocked access due to an Islamist insurgency. The total is “not less than 1,000”, says Sherif Mohie Eddin of the Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights, another pressure group. He says the secrecy is deliberate, a charge denied by the interior ministry.

Most of the disappeared are liberal activists or Islamists, but the reasons for some disappearances are not at all clear. Mostafa Massouny, a young video editor, was getting food in downtown Cairo when he vanished on June 26th. Through various channels his family learned of his detention and was told he would be released. But now there is no official trace of him. “Egypt has eaten my friend,” says one of his colleagues.

If there was any hope that the new parliament might act as a check on the regime’s ruthlessness, that has been dashed. Most lawmakers have pledged their support for Mr Sisi. When not mugging up for TV cameras or taking selfies, they found time to pass a terrorism law that is likely to ensnare activists. The crotchety head of the committee on human rights, Mortada Mansour, has called January 25th “the worst-ever day in Egypt’s history”. Some officials hope to reclaim the date by renewing its prior designation as a day for celebrating the police. They have certainly been working hard.