THE Egyptian army announced the offensive with a gauzy video, clips of saluting soldiers and gleaming fighter jets set to martial music. It appears to be the largest operation in North Sinai in years. Hospitals were told to stockpile medicines and cancel annual leave for doctors. Schools are closed indefinitely. Nearly a week later, though, no one is sure how many troops were deployed, nor what they hope to achieve. The region is a closed military zone. The army releases a string of figures—a dozen militants killed, 1,500kg of explosives seized—that are impossible to confirm. Even its videos appear to be mostly stock footage, unless the navy has found a novel way to use fast attack boats in desert warfare.

For nearly five years, Egypt has struggled to put down a dogged insurgency. In November terrorists killed more than 300 people at a North Sinai mosque, the deadliest attack in Egypt’s modern history. No one claimed responsibility; even al-Qaeda condemned the carnage. Suspicion fell on Wilayat Sinai, the local affiliate of Islamic State. Weeks later the group tried to assassinate the defence and interior ministers while they were visiting Sinai. “They seem to have a growing level of sophistication and intelligence,” says one Western diplomat. And now they have threatened to disrupt next month’s presidential election. A video released on February 11th warned Egyptians not to vote.

Many were already inclined to stay home. Abdel-Fattah al-Sisi’s sole challenger used to run a campaign to re-elect the incumbent. Two would-be rivals are in military jails. A third was detained for weeks in a luxury hotel. Starved of choice, Egyptians have taken to lampooning the process. In one widely shared cartoon a wife warns her husband to behave, “or God help me I’ll say you want to run for president.” Even the president himself seems to recognise the farce. At a conference meant to showcase his achievements, a young woman started to ask Mr Sisi what would happen if he lost. Before she could finish, he burst into laughter.

In private, Mr Sisi is less jovial. Though he will win, his mandate will probably be underwhelming. Less than 48% of Egyptians bothered to vote in 2014, and they are more apathetic this time. Even some of the president’s supporters are frustrated with the state of the country and its stifled politics. The economy is in poor shape, with high inflation and a stagnant private sector. Unlike his predecessors, Mr Sisi does not have a party to dole out patronage and mobilise voters. Indeed, he has few allies at all; since November he has sacked two of his three top security chiefs. With little else to offer, the Sinai operation has the whiff of an election-eve publicity stunt.

Never one to tolerate dissent, Mr Sisi has turned deeply insular in recent weeks. A group of businessmen linked to the banned Muslim Brotherhood are awaiting trial in a state security court. Some had been previously detained but released since the government saw them as moderates. Now they, too, have been swept up. Also in jail is Hisham Geneina, a former state auditor who joined one of the abortive campaigns to challenge Mr Sisi. With the field cleared for Mr Sisi, police have moved on to arresting former candidates.

On January 31st Mr Sisi took diplomats and journalists to the Nile Delta. The mood should have been buoyant. He was there to inaugurate the massive new Zohr gasfield, which will provide billions of dollars in revenue and a steady supply of cheap energy. But his tone quickly turned dark. The revolution of 2011, he warned, would not be repeated. “Don’t think of trying these things with us. I am no politician. I’m not a man of words,” he said. It was an unmistakable threat. Yet it may reveal more weakness than strength.