Understanding Cairo

           Who better understands Cairo? The Islamists who insist on Morsi’s return to power? The secularists who were determined to put an end to his short rule? The senior military officers who are bent on remaining in overall control of the political game? When the guns fall silent and the political process ensues, Cairo's teeming millions, and its influential middle class, will be crucial in shaping Egypt's future.

Cities are not merely population centers, or dots scattered on a lifeless map or names listed in the directory of an atlas. Cities are expressions of cultural identity, symbols of historical processes, hubs of social development, media for transmitting ideas and radiating knowledge, focal points of interaction with the outside world, factories of modern man's anxieties and ambitions, and arenas of war and revolution. Cities are the locus of human activity.

In Egypt, it is Cairo—or, in Arabic, Al-Qahera (the city victorious)—that reflects all these sociological and psychohistorical processes. The 1,000-year-old city has an abundance of complex meanings and sharp contradictions, both visible and hidden, enriched by a long history of fluctuations—magnificent rises and steep declines, glorious triumphs and disastrous setbacks, bursts of enthusiasm and tears of grief. Cairo is a wild yet charming city. Its liveliness is stupendous; its flavor is a blend of Africa, Asia and Europe; its pulse is frenzied but musical; its chaos borders on madness; and, most importantly, its people retain their distinctive wit however great the difficulties. 

Modern Egyptian rulers, however, failed to unravel the secrets of the city, abandoning it at times, unleashing their wrath against it at other times—always failing to understand it. They mistook Cairo's patience for apathy, overlooking the fact that, like all old cities, it is both wise and resilient. It smiles in the face of hardships, bears the ebbs of time with a strong heart, but in response to tyrants, it doesn’t murmur; it shouts.    

President Anwar Sadat, for instance, sought solace in his village house in Mit Abu El-Kom, in Menoufia Governorate, away from Cairo's political traffic jams. Sadat was not returning to his roots in a quest to consolidate family ties or evoke sweet childhood memories. Sadat hated Cairo and its unruly people. The 1970s in Egypt were a decade of vibrancy and volatility. Sadat's shattering of Nasser's policies provoked leftists and Nasserites against him. Cairo's universities and intellectuals' cafes bustled with anti-regime political activities and debates. The 1977 food riots in particular drew Sadat closer to the village and away from the city.      

Sadat's constant emphasis on "countryside values" seemed, subconsciously, to reflect his appreciation of the loyalty and docility of Egypt's fellahin (peasants), against the rebellious and unyielding nature of Cairenes, the vile effendis (men of education) as Sadat habitually described them. Cairo should turn into "one big village," he once said. For Sadat, Cairo was a hotbed of intellectuals, artists and students, who posed a menace to his authority and to the patriarchal society over which he wished to preside. He saw himself as the father of all Egyptians, who were one extended family, and his 'boys' should toe his line; to disagree was rude and ungrateful. In order to punish "infringement" of a vaguely defined and delineated set of "Egyptian ethics and social norms," he introduced the Shame Law in 1980, a decree that has since been cited as an example of political and legal folly.

Likewise, from the late 1990s until 2011, President Hosni Mubarak—and his 'royal' entourage—spent long periods of time in the resort town of Sharm al-Sheikh, far away from Cairo's oven-like heat and suffocating air pollution. His extended stays there prompted his critics to describe the small town as "the president's capital." The time Mubarak spent in Sharm al-Sheikh, in a posh villa overlooking a picturesque sea and mountain view, was perhaps his only way to think of himself as an achiever, a leader whose services to his country did not go in vain. Tourism flourished under Mubarak, with resorts like Sharm al-Sheikh and Hurghada turning into international tourist destinations.      

In the tranquility of his comfortable exile, Mubarak could block out what had become of Egypt in his three-decade rule: a despairing nation; a corrupt and dysfunctional state; a failing economy addicted to foreign largesse, crumbling services, an ailing infrastructure, a population boom (more than a million new souls every year), and a fading grandeur replaced by a pitiable image in the region and beyond. Nevertheless, Mubarak's flight to the periphery did not bring the core to rest. Cairo bent under Mubarak, but it did not break. Eventually, Cairenes flocked to Tahrir Square, Cairo's (and Egypt's) center, to seal Mubarak's fate.     

Goethe said that to rule is easy, to govern difficult. Sadat and Mubarak exemplified the saying—the former assassinated (on October 6, 1981, in a military parade commemorating his "day of glory"), the latter deposed by a massive popular revolution. The fate of both men was determined by Egypt's middle class, the crucial yet ever-neglected force in Egyptian politics.

The weight of this critical mass—comprised of the urban, educated and vocal social segments—in Egyptian politics is disproportionate to its size. Since the reign of Mohamed Ali (1805-1848), it was this class that introduced new ideas to Egyptian society, flirted with Western ideologies, championed the cause of independence from foreign occupation, embodied and propagated Egypt's 'soft power' in the Arab world, and thought about national issues and aspirations. Cairo has been the incubator of all these energetic processes. In contrast, the lower class has been pushed to the margins of public movement and debate. Unsurprisingly, when Tahrir Square was fanning the flames of revolution against Mubarak in 2011, remote rural areas, particularly in the largely impoverished and underdeveloped Upper Egypt region, remained detached and noiseless.

If history repeats itself, first as tragedy, next as farce (as Marx said), then Morsi's short-lived rule denotes the latter. While Mubarak was hated by the majority of his people, Morsi seemed to be leader by accident, underdog rather than tyrant, a helpless stooge of the aging and conspiratorial Muslim Brotherhood leaders, a target of mockery rather than an object of criticism, and a victim of his own banality and blindness to Egypt's realities. Nobody took his threats seriously, and after a few months in power, almost everybody sensed that he would not survive for too long. When Morsi was ousted, most people felt no urge to retaliate, only a sigh of relief.

Morsi's downfall was also partly because he did not understand Cairo. Despite the MB's successive ballot box victories in post-Mubarak Egypt, it was Cairo that slowed down the group's foray into the territory abandoned by Mubarak and his defeated, dissolved party. In Cairo, Morsi lost both rounds of the presidential elections (May-June 2012) as well as the referendum on the constitution (December 2012).  

Morsi visited Tahrir Square only once after his election victory. This visit came on his first day as president, in order to celebrate his victory among his supporters and, in hindsight, to pay farewell to the central square of a city he so quickly and foolishly lost. Morsi remained oblivious to the threat posed by Cairo's recalcitrance until the very end. During his last crisis in power, he reportedly told US President Barack Obama that those who demonstrated against him constituted a minority (only 160,000 people, he claimed), when aerial images taken by military helicopters captured millions packing the streets and squares of Cairo and other cities to demand his expulsion.    

Only Nasser—who clipped the wings of the aristocracy and uplifted the poor, creating a viable middle class—bonded with Cairo. The expansion in education and health services and the establishment of an industry-oriented public sector gave rise to, and consolidated, Egypt's middle class in the 1950s and 1960s. In 1956, he vowed steadfastness against the tripartite aggression from the rostrum of the widely revered Al-Azhar mosque, in the heart of Cairo's old Islamic city. "I am here in Cairo with you and my children are also here in Cairo. I did not send them away [for protection from air raids]," he said, to affirm his loyalty to the city.

Nasser did not travel much during his reign. He was not a big fan of the tourist retreats of Egypt's pre-revolution aristocracy. He stayed in Cairo, and there he died. In the autumn of 1970, Nasser resided for a few days in Cairo's posh Nile Hilton during the emergency Arab summit convened to put an end to the bloody Palestinian-Jordanian conflict—Black September. On the night of September 27^th, on the balcony of his hotel room that overlooked River Nile, Kasr El-Nil Bridge and the lights of the city that never sleeps, he told his friend Mohamed Heikal: "This is the best view in the world." On the following day, he died.

A river of people gathered in Tahrir and surrounding areas to attend Nasser's epic funeral—the same unprecedented numbers who assembled in the same square decades later to send first Mubarak then Morsi a clear message: you terribly misunderstood us and you have to go.

Cities should be defined by demography, not geography. In his tragic play Coriolanus, Shakespeare wondered: what is the city but the people? Had Sadat, Mubarak and Morsi shared Shakespeare's wonder, their fates could have been different. But in the end, the historical pattern repeated itself. The city retained the validity of its name, victorious; and its thoughtless despots continued to be defeated, ostracized and deleted from collective memory.    

Nael M. Shama

* This article appeared first on the website of Le Monde Diplomatique (English) on August 15, 2013.

 

The Perils of Egypt's Popular Coup

The Egyptian military's ouster of President Mohamed Morsi represents a major milestone in Egypt's bumpy and circular transition to democracy. Today, great hopes, high spirits and a sense of relief are prevalent among most Egyptians. The thrills of joy, however, overshadow the many perils ahead.   

First, Morsi's downfall at the hands of the uprising-turned-coup demonstrates that the ballot box, the core of competitive political systems, has been outweighed in Egyptian politics by street dynamics. Indeed, the debate among contending parties now centers around questions like: Which party's protest was larger and which party proved that it could mobilize more supporters for street protests? If Egypt witnesses no quick return to the vehicles of democratic rule, then the street will remain the main (or only) locus of collective expression.

This development establishes a worrying precedent. By reducing a representative political process to mere displays of power that are often sham or deceptive, the fate of a large nation becomes hostage to the percentage of its population that takes to the streets, expressing its choices using marches, shouts and banners. In other words, the well-established democratic "one man, one vote" principle is substituted by the "only protestors count" formula. This takes Egypt one step away from constitutional democracy and one step closer to mob rule, hence alienating sizeable segments of the populace and undermining the legitimacy of the post-Morsi process. It also shifts the attention of political parties away from devising broad strategies and policy postures that address complex political questions to focusing on mobilization tactics, event-organization skills and rhetoric campaigns.  

Second, the revival of Mubarak's authoritarian practices is looming on the horizon. The same revolutionary forces that led the uprising against Mubarak in 2011 played a crucial role in the Tamarod (Rebel) grassroots movement - which collected 22 million signatures demanding an early presidential election - and in the large anti-Morsi demonstrations that took place in the period from June 30 to July 3. Nevertheless, they did not stand alone this time. A broad motley coalition of Egyptians, which included revolutionaries, liberals, Mubarak sympathizers, businessmen with ties to state institutions and even security officers, protested against Morsi. Indeed, if Morsi had succeeded in anything over the past year, it was in uniting these heterogeneous groupings against his rule. 

These diverse forces had little in common, except for their dissatisfaction at the performance of Morsi's government and impatience to see Morsi toppled from power. Now that their goal has been achieved, they will come to a parting of the ways. While the revolutionary forces will continue to defend liberties and advocate social justice, the security apparatus may be tempted to revert to its old ways of doing business. Indeed, immediately following Morsi's overthrow, dozens of pro-Morsi channels have been banned and many Islamist leaders have been arrested. Similarly, state bureaucrats and remnants of the Mubarak regime are geared up to retain their prerogatives and recapture lost lands.      

Third, Morsi's removal from office will not put an end to the instability that has engulfed the country since Mubarak stepped down in 2011, but will rather prolong and expand it. A civil war is not around the corner, but civil unrest is overwhelming and paralyzing the country. What lies ahead is a protracted struggle between the state and the secularists on one hand and the Islamists on the other. Leaders of the Muslim Brotherhood (MB) have so far been defiant to the military's move, announcing that they will not leave the streets before Morsi is reinstated. They have resorted to street protests (some of which spiraled into deadly violence) and, as usual, concealed their political motives behind the mask of religious rhetoric.    

Whether they lost touch with reality or they only aim at bolstering their negotiating posture, the narrow-minded, hotheaded MBs are shooting themselves in the foot. Their outright stubbornness inhibits the reintegration of the MB into the system and invites a security crackdown that, this time, may be condoned or justified by many social forces.      

Fourth, the military's return to domination, albeit from behind the curtain, represents another setback to ongoing attempts to reformulate civil-military relations in Egypt on a more balanced and consistent-with-democracy basis. Civilian control over the military and the institutionalization of politics seem today to be as distant as they have been since the 1952 coup.  

            Egyptians' jubilation at Morsi's ejection was well-deserved. Once again, they asserted their indispensible presence in the equations of politics and power. But the euphoria of the moment should not overshadow the challenges of tomorrow: the transition to democracy is in deep jeopardy, the military is back in the saddle, the forces of the ancien regime are plotting their return to power and turmoil continues to tear the country apart.  

 

Nael M. Shama

 

* This article appeared first in Global Times (China) on July 25, 2013.
* Photo: Hassan Ammar (AP).

Morsi: A Fairly Typical Muslim Brother

           

Nikita Khrushchev once said that "politicians are the same all over," for "they promise to build a bridge even where there is no river." I agree with the second part. While most politicians are prone to making hefty promises and unrealistic pledges, their deeds and fates diverge fundamentally. Some politicians succeed and inspire, others fail drastically, leaving office disheartened and ostracized. Some politicians are forever remembered, others sink into oblivion in the blink of an eye. More importantly, only a few politicians conquer the constraints imposed by their environments, the rest remain prisoners of their own time.

To which type of politicians does Mohamed Morsi, Egypt's first democratically-elected president who was ousted from power last Wednesday, belong? While Morsi's supporters overstated his capabilities, his detractors questioned either his competence or his intentions, or both. In any case, political leaders are predominantly the product of their idiosyncrasies; their policies are rooted in their personas, socialization processes, ideas, and worldviews, and Morsi is far from being an exception.        

Morsi and the Muslim Brotherhood: The Inseparable Bond 

Morsi was born in 1951 into a humble family in the village of El-Adwah, Sharkia governorate. Available information on his early childhood suggests he led an ordinary village life, characterized by enormous economic and social difficulties prevalent in Egypt's some 5,000 villages. Morsi recalled that he used to go to school on the back of a donkey.[1] For Morsi, just like many of his peers, joining the ranks of the well-organized and deeply entrenched Muslim Brotherhood group (MB) seemed like a natural choice. In the largely underdeveloped countryside, where poverty is rife and public services are scarce, the MB has stepped in to fill the vacuum left (or, perhaps, created) by the state. The wide range of charitable services the group provides in rural areas are clothed in the robes of piety and religious righteousness. To be sure, when people are economically deprived and profoundly religious, the provision of material sustenance combined with the soothing lure of religious talk—that is, food for the body and the soul—is the most effective tool to attract followers and sympathizers.   

Morsi spent the last three decades of his life in the womb of the MB. He imbibed at a young age the group's ideology and the values of organizational discipline and loyalty to senior leaders. It was these three decades that witnessed the rise of the disciples of Sayed Qutb's orthodox school of thought to the upper echelons of the MB. Qutb, a writer, Islamist theorist and activist executed in 1966 for plotting against Nasser's regime, adopted a rigid interpretation of the Quran, going as far as condemning Egyptians for living in a state of 'jahiliyyah' (ignorance of divine guidance). Although the current generation of MB leaders discard Qutb's proclivity for violence, they harbor feelings of admiration for him and his ideology. Indeed, Morsi defended the ideas of Qutb on a TV show in 2009, saying that he "discovered Islam from the writings of Sayyid Qutb."        

Morsi was little known at home when he entered the presidential race in 2012.  He was not a shadowy figure in the MB, but was not so influential either. He was rather a typical Muslim brother, rising up the ladder of the MB by means of diligence, dedication and loyalty. The Economist described him as a "quiet and loyal enforcer."[2] Prior to his election as president, Morsi was ranked the sixth or seventh in the ironclad hierarchy of the MB. At any rate, he was outweighed by strongmen like Mohamed Badie, the MB's spiritual guide; his deputy Khairat Al-Shater, the strategist and financier of the group; and Mahmoud Ezzat, a leading figure with extensive administrative experience and influence. Al-Shater was the group's first-choice candidate for the May 2012 presidential election, but following his disqualification by the elections' supreme committee, the MB opted for Mohamed Morsi, then the president of the Freedom and Justice Party (the political wing of the group established a few months after Mubarak's ouster).

Morsi's subordination to the leaders of the MB, particularly Badie to whom he gave an oath of allegiance, posed questions of conflicting loyalties and their presumable impact on state policies. The national interest was frequently relinquished in favor of the ruling elite's interest under Mubarak regime's nepotism. Likewise, many Egyptians questioned over the past year the president's independence and self-determination, and wondered whether the parochial interests of the MB took precedence over the national interest. Indeed, during his year at the helm, Morsi's stances never departed from those advocated and promoted by the MB.

 Morsi's attachment to the MB was in essence double-pronged. Not only was he organizationally and psychologically tied to the leadership of the MB, but he was also circumspect about maintaining the loyalty and support of his broad constituency, namely the rank and file of the MB and other Islamist parties and movements. The growing defiance of the opposition and revolutionary youth over the past months pushed him into intensifying his alliance with Islamist forces, including fringe movements. From last November's tense standoff with the opposition and until his downfall, Morsi had increasingly surrounded himself with his trusted 'brothers,' planting loyalists in the presidential palace and key government positions while excluding other political and social forces. The resignations of ten of Morsi's non-MB advisors (out of a total of 18 presidential advisors) did not alert him to the deficiencies of the decision-making process, but instead deepened his reliance on the MB. 

Heavily influenced by the years spent in the milieu of the MB, Morsi's socialization process was mirrored in his decision-making style. The MB was a secretive underground movement that worked behind closed doors almost since its inception in 1928, and that was legally "outlawed" in Mubarak's three decades of rule. To dodge the state's persecution, its trained-on-concealment members shrouded their activities in clandestineness and vigilance. Similarly, there was hardly any transparency in the policies of Morsi and his government. Unanticipated policy approaches and government plans appeared abruptly, and were withdrawn by the government as suddenly and mysteriously as they emerged. As a result, shady backroom deals and secret agreements between the president and his allies became more significant than official announcements and public speeches.

The MB was Morsi's asset and liability concurrently. His unwillingness, perhaps even inability, to restrain his reliance on the MB (and to convince his countrymen that he was serving the interests of all Egyptians equally) came at a heavy price. After just one year in power, the polarization of Egyptian politics deepened, his legitimacy was undermined, and calls for an early presidential election proliferated across the country, eventually putting an end to his regime.       

Inside Morsi's Mind

A streak of countryside conservatism along with basic religious teaching acquired through a lengthy process of indoctrination in the MB seems to have produced Morsi's belief system. The lack of in-depth philosophical or religious learning coupled with self-imposed insulation from other political and ideological currents led to a simplified understanding of the 'self' and the 'other,' and of complex, multi-faceted political and social phenomenon. For Morsi, the world's nations, political actors and ideologies are predominantly perceived in 'black-and-white' terms, with no shades of grey. Believing that they stand on the right side of history, Morsi and his men saw legitimate political competition through the prism of conspiracy, and accordingly they distrusted, stigmatized, and sometimes even equated with treason opposition to his rule.

If discourse reflects mindset, then much about Morsi can be learned from his words. Replete with popular clichés and misconceptions that jumble politics with ideology and religion, Morsi's discourse before the 2011 revolution was analogous to that of mediocre preachers or demagogic, politically-illiterate politicians. In this discourse, Israel is relentlessly damned, the backwardness of the Muslim Umma (nation) is blamed on external conspiracies and the West is essentially seen through the prism of sexual and moral decadence. While there is a shred of truth in these vapid stereotypes, most Islamists regard them as the exclusive version of truth. Unsurprisingly thus, in an interview with scholar Nathan Brown conducted a few years ago, Morsi "put forward a conspiratorial explanation" of the events of 9/11.[3] In the same vein, in a September 2010 video that surfaced a few months ago, Morsi described Zionists as "bloodsuckers" and "the descendants of apes and pigs."[4] Also, in an interview with the New York Times last September, Morsi expressed his dismay at "the West's looser sexual mores," mentioning "naked restaurants" like Hooters.[5]   

Driven by his need to accentuate the differences between himself and Mubarak, who remained largely aloof and stolid for three decades, Morsi barely missed an opportunity to talk to the public. He presumably broke a world record by delivering more than 50 speeches, sermons and television interviews in his first four months in power. Morsi's passionate and amiable words initially won him sympathy and respect, but his poor rhetoric, full of digressions and redundancy, did not serve him well for too long. If Egyptians wanted Mubarak to speak to them more than he did, they soon began wondering whether Morsi should speak less than he did.

Too many impromptu speeches and gestures can, indeed, be very detrimental to unsophisticated politicians. In a span of just a few months, Morsi made numerous blunders in public that tarnished his image as a statesman. Impatiently glancing at his watch during a press conference with the German chancellor Angela Merkel, adjusting his private parts in front of cameras while meeting with the Australian prime minister, and addressing an audience of scientists with a speech that included seven factual and scientific errors evoked both laughter and fury. Furthermore, Morsi's frequent use of difficult-to-decipher metaphors left his audience both bewildered and perturbed. On one occasion, Morsi said: "If the monkey died, what shall the monkey man do?" On another, he drew a vague analogy between the kitsch classic movie "Planet of Apes" and Egypt's transition to democracy.    

To be sure, Morsi's persona is insipid and uninspiring. He certainly lacks Nasser's charisma, Sadat's flamboyance and Mubarak's caution. Becoming the object of scorn and mockery certainly contributed to Morsi's quick downfall. A leader, clearly, starts losing power when he loses people's faith in his ability to lead.  

Morsi's paranoia of the opposition was certainly aggravated by his heightened perception of threat. As a rule, threats are the lifeblood of Islamist movements, giving their existence legitimacy and bolstering their unity and coherence. If threats did not exist over the MB's 85-year life, they would have likely been created. The tyrant state and its brutal security arm represented the prime source of threat for the MB during the long years of repression. Threat perceptions endured after the group rose to power, only its source changed. To Morsi and the MBs, the agents of the "deep state" inhibited change from within the state, and the opposition conspired against his rule from without the state. Whether real or perceived, these perceptions had an impact on Morsi's inclination to consolidate power rather than engineer an inclusive democratic process.       

Huge normative differences between Islamists and secularists also deepened Morsi's distrust and suspicion of his opponents. Although the MB accepts democracy, it seems to be less interested in democracy for its own sake than in what it can achieve. The violence of the earlier generations of the MBs came to an end in 1965, and the group began to participate in parliamentary elections in the 1980s. This journey from the bullet to the ballot did not entail a complete adoption of democratic principles. The Muslim brothers seem to respect the 'procedures' of democracy (particularly elections) far more than its 'values.' While the former pave the way to power, the latter stand in contradiction with Islamic law. So far, Islamists' attempts at bridging the gap between both systems of references have not been entirely successful, with far-reaching consequences on their stances toward various political and social questions.         

Facing extraordinary political and economic challenges, post-Mubarak Egypt needed an extraordinary president. It is unsurprising that Morsi failed the test of statesmanship; it's surprising how fast he did. His removal from office made him the second shortest serving Egyptian ruler since Mohamed Ali's reign (1805-1848), in contrast to his predecessor, Hosni Mubarak, who is the second longest serving Egyptian ruler in the same period. Then again, there is nothing new under the sun. Over its long and rich history, Egypt has always been the land of striking contrasts and glaring contradictions.       

Nael Shama

* This article appeared first in Le Monde Diplomatique (English edition) on July 8, 2013.

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[1] "Muhammad Morsi: An Ordinary Man," The Economist, 30 June 2012, http://www.economist.com/node/21557803.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Nathan Brown, "Egypt's Ambiguous Transition," Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 6 September 2012, http://carnegieendowment.org/2012/09/06/egypt-s-ambiguous-transition/drsi. 

[4]  The video (with English subtitles) can be watched here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PcnK3Kiw1Eg

[5] David Kirkpatrick and Steven Erlanger, "Egypt's New Leader Spells out Terms for U.S.-Arab Ties," The New York Times, 22 September 2012, http://www.nytimes.com/2012/09/23/world/middleeast/egyptian-leader-mohamed-morsi-spells-out-terms-for-us-arab-ties.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0

العرب و"عبقرية" الهولوكوست

تتوارى بين ثنايا القبح أحياناً ومضات العبقرية وشذرات الجمال، و تختبيء خلف ستائر الخير والجمال أحياناً مكامن الشر وأوكار الإثم والفساد. ولذا كان من أولى أمارات النضج العقلي الإقلاع عن النظرة الأحادية للأفكار والأحداث والأشخاص، والقدرة على التعاطي الحيادي متعدد الزوايا مع شتى الظواهر الاجتماعية والإنسانية المحيطة بنا، والمركبة بطبيعتها. أما الاستغراق في نصب سرادقات الإدانة ومهرجانات التأييد التي أدمنها العقل العربي، فتمثل أسهل ردود الفعل إذ ترضي الضمير، وتريح العقل من فريضة التفكير المرهقة.

مقاربة العقل العربي لنشوء ونمو دولة إسرائيل نموذج واضح على ذلك النهج المعادي لحيادية العلم والمجافي لحقائق الأشياء. فما بين رقص على أنغام الرفض، ودوران لا ينتهي في مدارات اللعن والشجب، استقرت إسرائيل في قلب الوطن العربي، واستقر العرب في مواقع الهزيمة، يندبون حظهم تارة، وينحون باللائمة على الآخرين تارة أخرى، دون أن يعوا تماماً لماذا أخفقوا ولماذا تفوق العدو.

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الهولوكوست مثال آخر. فعلى الرغم من صعوبة الإتيان بالألفاظ المناسبة لوصف بشاعة جريمة الهولوكوست - والتي قضي على أثرها ملايين الأبرياء اختناقاً بالغاز في معسكرات الموت النازية في أربعينيات القرن الماضي -- فإن للهولوكوست وجهاً عبقرياً يجدر بنا كعرب أن نلتفت إليه، ونتعلم من دروسه، ونمشي على خطاه. كان أدولف هتلر في ذروة جنونه قد قرر إبادة اليهود والغجر والمختلين عقلياً، وأصدر أوامره بذلك إلى مجموعة الحماية النازية (SS)، فبدأت عملية واسعة لترحيلهم (وخاصة اليهود) من مختلف الأقطار الأوروبية إلى معسكرات الموت، وأكبرها في بولندا الخاضعة للاحتلال النازي.

وبصرف النظر عن الاعتبارات الأخلاقية، فإن الهولوكوست تعد مدرسة في التفكير العلمي، والقدرة غلى تطويع العلم لحل العقبات وتحقيق الأهداف بطرق عملية مبتكرة ناجعة. فعلى سبيل المثال، جاءت التعليمات من القيادة النازية في برلين في أوائل عام 1942م بضرورة القضاء على مليون شخص في معسكر (أوشفيتز) بنهاية العام. ولم تكن قدرات المعسكر باستخدام الطرق التقليدية في قتل ودفن الضحابا تسمح بذلك. ومن هنا طور الألمان فكرة استخدام الغازات الفتاكة للتخلص من أكبر عدد من الضحايا في أقل وقت ممكن. أجريت في تلك السنوات أبحاث مضنية على أنواع الغازات وعلى تصميم غرف الغاز، بغية الوصول لحلول خلاقة أكثر كفاءة وفعالية، خرج من رحمها أكبر مصنع للموت عرفته البشرية في تاريخها الحديث. ففي معسكر (تريبلنكا) مثلاً صمم المهندسون الألمان غرفة ضخمة تتيح القضاء على ثلاثة آلاف نفس بشرية في نفس الوقت، وفي (أوشفيتز) وصلت طاقة المعسكر في القتل عام 1944م إلى عشرة آلاف شخص يومياً. أجريت أيضاً في نفس المعسكرات تجارب طبية واسعة اهتمت بالجينات الوراثية، خاصة بالنسبة للتوائم والأقزام.

حديث القتل مقبض ومنفر، لكن ما يهمنا هو حديث الكفاءة والإنجاز الدال والملهم. التجربة الألمانية مع هتلر أو مع من تعاقبوا بعده على القيادة تبرهن على أن ثمة أمم سرى احترام العلم في دمائها، فاعتمدوا عليه، واتخذوه طريقة حياة، وسبيلاً لحل ما يواجهون من معضلات. فصارت كل مناحي الحياة -- العمل، والحرب، والسلم، والحب، والقتل – تعمل وفق قانون العلم ومنهاجه وآلياته. وثمة أمم أخرى غاب عن حياتها التفكير العلمي، وسادت العشوائية، والارتجال، والافتنان بمآثر الماضي، والإعراض عن مسالك الحاضر، بل والنفور من انجازات العصر ومكتسباته. وكانت النتيجة أن انغمست في صغائر الأمور وتوافه الجدالات، فتخلفت عن ركب الحضارة، وتقهقرت في كل سباقات العصر، مسلمةً حاضرها ومستقبلها لغيرها.

الأنكى أن "الدولة" في الوطن العربي لم تفشل فقط في سباق العلم والحضارة، بل فشلت كذلك في الظلم والقمع. فأداؤها متساو خيراً وشراً: كلاهما خال من الكفاءة، وموغل في السذاجة، وموصل إلى التهلكة. لقد كشف الربيع العربي هشاشة الأنظمة العربية السلطوية، وضعف بنيتها، وخواء خطابها. وحتى قبل الربيع العربي فشلت الدولة العربية في الإقناع، ومارست القمع بسذاجة، وزورت الانتخابات بفجاجة، وصادرت الحريات بفظاظة. ونخب ما بعد الثورات العربية لا يقل أداؤها سوءاً وتخبطاً عن تلك المطاح بها، والأداء المزري لكل من الحكومة والمعارضة في مصر عبر العامين الماضيين خير دليل.   

عبثاً توالت الصدمات على المنطقة العربية محذرة ومنذرة من الدرك الذي سارت إليه الأمة، ومشجعة على تصحيح المسار وضبط الاعوجاج. فقد أظهرت الحملة الفرنسية على مصر في 1798م للمصريين حجم الهوة الحضارية بينهم وبين الفرنسيس المدججين بمنتجات وأدوات العصر: الأسطول والسلاح والمطبعة والكتاب. وغقب هزيمة 1967م، اعتبر تيار من مفكري ومثقفي العرب أن الجيوش العربية دحرت لأن قادتنا لم ينشئوا دول ما بعد الاستعمار على أساس علمي، ومؤكدين أن قلب الموازين العسكرية يتطلب بالاساس قيام نهضة علمية وتكنولوجية. فكان أن رفع نظام السادات في السبعينات شعار "دولة العلم والإيمان"، وتباهى رجال صدام حسين في الثمانينات بما أسموه "المعجزة العراقية"، فيما تغني أنصار القذافي بهتاف: "علم يا قايد علمنا بيش نحقق مستقبلنا". شعارات براقة زينت الجدران وألهبت الحناجر فحسب، وبقي الواقع على حاله البائس.      

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يكفي أن نتطلع في وجوه رواد المقاهي العربية وقت إذاعة المباريات العالمية، وهم مشدوهون إلى براعة ومهارة لاعبي الكرة في "العالم الآخر" المتطور، ويتمتمون بعبارات لاذعة تقارن - بوعي أو بدون وعي - بين براعة لاعبيهم وتواضع لاعبينا حتى نكتشف حجم الطامة. وما تفوق الألمان في بطولات الأندية الأوروبية هذا العام إلا نهل من نفس المنبع الذي قاد أجدادهم منذ نحو سبعين عاماً لابتكار طرق جديدة للقتل. لقد ذهب الشاعر أدونيس إلى أن العرب انقرضوا، إذ لم يسهموا رغم تكاثرهم عددياً بأي شيء ذي منفعة في مسيرة الحضارة الإنسانية عبر المائة عام الماضية. واستمرار هذا الاقتران الكارثي للخصوبة البيولوجية بالعقم الحضاري سيفاقم الداء ويطيل أمد الغيبوبة.

إنه العلم، فهلا تعلمنا شيئاً من مظاهره المحيطة بنا من كل حدب وصوب، كقفزات التكنولوجيا، وثورة الاتصالات، وسباقات الفضاء، والاكتشاقات الطبية، أو حتى الهولوكوست ومباريات الكرة؟

 

د. نايل شامة

 

* نُشرت هذه المقالة بموقع الحوار المتمدن (بتاريخ 18 يونيو 2013).

 

The Decline of Knowledge in Egypt

Scarce budgets, fanaticism, encroachments on freedom of expression, and a growing isolationist, inward-looking attitude to the world have undermined the quality and reach of Egypt's cultural production. But that's only the tip of the iceberg.

The real misfortune is that knowledge in Egypt has been deformed and commodified. Like a Pepsi can or a bag of chips, products with fine packaging and generous marketing campaigns win the race. And those who transmit the knowledge (or, rather, the lack thereof) have increasingly become tantamount to the phony celebrities who appear in the shallow ads for these products: a flashy, flamboyant, popular image—little else matters.  

From a historical perspective, the "commodification of culture" is certainly not a new phenomenon, but lately it has developed at alarming rates in the deep-rooted—yet enormously vulnerable—Egyptian culture. The interplay of various political and socioeconomic factors has given birth to a largely skewed process, whereby genuine talent and deep knowledge have taken the backseat, as distorted versions of art and science steal the limelight.  

Egyptians invented the now prevalent concept of "fahlawa," a slang term referring to the combination of wit and unpolished intelligence, and to the ability to use them to accrue benefits from minimal knowledge, experience or legal right in any given context. Fahlawa is no longer restricted to occasional use, or to the mere satisfaction of the impulses of rogue yet human whims; to many in our country, it has become a way of life.  

It is generally assumed that culture is one realm where connections do not count and where marketing skills are irrelevant. Did not Shakespeare, Beethoven and Naguib Mahfouz excel and evoke awe and marvel in their audiences because of their stunning artistic talent alone? But in today's Egypt, this simple, yet universal, rule is constantly proven wrong. Every day talent is ignored, subdued, crushed, and replaced with those who master nothing but the art of fahlawa, wrapped in a modern, dazzling robe of disingenuous marketing and promotion.   

Numerous cases in art, literature, journalism, science and various other fields illustrate that success (narrowly defined here as having access to a vast audience and exercising influence over the general public) is no longer contingent upon value or merit, and has rather become dependent on how one can harness the art of marketing, how to rise to prominence with half a talent, and how to maneuver the dominant social structure in the quest for upward mobility and recognition.

The era's motto has become: You must appear knowledgeable, not be knowledgeable.  

Many Parrots, Few Thinkers

Because of their broad visibility, it is perhaps political television shows that best epitomize the current disarray. The significant rise of interest in political issues in the aftermath of the 2011 revolution has led to an unprecedented increase in the number of political talk shows that are screened around the clock on dozens of local and satellite channels. But these shows are marred by dull uniformity. Nearly all of them share the same format, the same type of questions, and the same list of guests; in short, no creativity, no imagination, and little added value.

In contrast, there is a scarcity of impeccable documentaries or thorough works of investigative journalism. The production of these missing genres requires professionalism, dedication, the discipline of hard work, in-depth analysis and a real penchant for uncovering the truth; in short, everything the political programs and their hosts lack.

The post-revolution mushrooming of political TV shows has given rise to an entire generation of what can be readily labeled as "TV-based political analysts." The limited knowledge and mediocre performance of the hosts of these programs is often striking, suggesting that they have probably read no worthy book or scientific study in years. Instead of hosting true experts, airtime is occupied by a species of parrots, mimicking each other, with little research, mental contemplation or even basic fact-checking, often dropping phrases like "soft power," "civil government," and "deep state," but with no real knowledge of their roots, context or implications. 

Unfortunately, many young political researchers have been infected by the ongoing media frenzy, spending more time blabbering on TV than on conducting research, reading or writing. Scores of Egyptian journalists, moreover, have abandoned the writing profession, opting instead for lucrative positions on satellite channels, doing jobs they have not been trained for, and may not even be interested in.

Money and fame talk.

Endless blunders

In the same vein, a clique of amateur televangelist preachers has dominated the country's religious discourse, overshadowing true religious scholars and thinkers. The trouble with the rise of these preachers (usually referred to as the "new preachers") is that they lack solid religious credentials and have a remarkably modest, and often vague and inconsistent, understanding of the teachings and philosophical foundations of Islam. It is often difficult to distinguish their bizarre fatwas (religious edicts) from bad jokes. Nevertheless, these preachers have turned in recent years into real celebrities, asserting their presence in the media, and attracting legions of fans every day. To add insult to injury, following the revolution, many of these pseudo-scholars have been heavily involved in politics, offering ‘strategic’ insights and political analysis, and giving advice to politicians at every occasion.

A huge multi-million dollar industry has cropped up around these popular preachers. "Islamic" satellite channels, books, sermon tapes, and fashion stores are now competing in the market for consumers' cash. Accordingly, sacred faith has become a commodity for sale in the showroom, and believers have receded into a mere marketing target group. In the age of globalization and open markets, the prevailing formula has become "da'wa (religious preaching) for dollars," as one Egyptian journalist once wrote.

For Islamic discourse, the rise of the market and fall of knowledge comes at a heavy price: damaging Islam's image, spreading religious misconceptions, fomenting social unrest, and inciting hatred against non-Muslims.  

Similar misguiding mechanisms, which curb the real and embellish the fake, shape nearly all other knowledge-based domains in Egypt today. The majority of best-selling books in Egypt are at best mediocre, if not painfully superficial and utterly commercial. The most widely-read online blogs, are not those hosting the most creative and ingenious writings, whether fiction or non-fiction. And with only a few exceptions, the most followed on Twitter are not the smartest or the most intellectual, but the most vocal and active, those who are better at networking and intermingling.

Truth is the ultimate victim of this insane media hype.  

Sadly, fame and public recognition, not competence or merit, are the fastest tickets to benefits and privileges today. To the disappointment and indignation of human resource specialists (and, surely, anyone who has a stake in the welfare of this nation), vacant public positions are now filled from a list of popular faces, which appear regularly in the media and make a lot of noise in the limelight. Many of Egypt's ministers, presidential consultants and members of the Constituent Assembly have been selected using this erratic and iniquitous method.

The stakes here are enormous. Many young and promising talents have already seen their professional careers blocked by the rise of these bloated pseudo-talents. As a result, coming generations will favor image over substance, will nurture connections rather than accumulate knowledge, and will invest in self-promotion techniques instead of sustaining hard work and perseverance.     

Egypt's prominent geographer and thinker Gamal Hamdan (1928-1993) shunned the limelight and lived in solitude for the last 20 years of his life, producing some of the finest books on Egypt's history, geography and politics, including the masterpiece Egypt's Character: A Study in the Genius of Place. Had he lived in the days when clowns preached religion, unlettered minds instructed on strategy and politics, and plastic ‘stars’ constituted the core of the intelligentsia, his precious works would have probably sunk into oblivion, just like our days have nearly sunk into nothingness.   

Nael M. Shama 

* This article appeared first on The Egypt Monocle (www.egyptmonocle.com) on April 29, 2013.

* Photo: Jennifer Allen