Monday, September 23, 2013

الوطنية الجديدة في مصر


ما كاد الصراع السياسي في مصر يصل إلى ذروته بعزل الرئيس السابق محمد مرسي وفض اعتصامات مؤيديه حتى سادت في البلاد ملامح نسق فكري جديد، لا يرقى لمرتبة الأيديولوجية، لكن دعائمه الفكرية والنفسية المختلفة ليست جزراً منفصلة بمكن غض الطرف عن أهميتها وتداعياتها.

هذا النسق من التفكير والسلوك (الذي تدعمه توجهات النظام الجديد ويجد أرضية واسعة في الشارع والإعلام ومؤسسات الدولة) يتبنى خطاباً وطنياً شعبوياً زاعقاً، تتكاثر فيه الإشارات إلى الأمن ويقل الحديث عن السياسة، ويتغلب فيه منطق الصراع وحتمية المعادلات الصفرية على إمكانيات التعاون والإدماج، كما أنه يميل إلى استبعاد المخالفين، واصطناع الأعداء في الداخل والخارج. ويركز النسق الجديد على دور الدولة لا المجتمع، إذ يحتفي بجهود الأجهزة الأمنية (وخصوصاً المؤسسة العسكرية) في حماية الوطن من التهديدات، وينقب عن الزعامات المحتملة في صفوف العسكريين دافعاً إياها إلى صفوف القيادة. لكن رياح "الوطنية الجديدة" في مصر تنذر بعواصف وتقلبات عدة ينبغي التحوط من تداعياتها.  

فأولاً، تحيط الغيوم بماهية غايات ذلك النسق، وما إذا كانت أدواته تصب في خدمة أهداف (وطنية) عليا، أم في خدمة مصالح "نخبة حاكمة" تدافع عن مكتسباتها الخاصة. فالخطاب الحالي يمثل في جوهره آلية للانتصار في معركة سياسية آنية أكثر منه خطة واضحة المعالم لإدارة البلاد أو التخطيط للمستقبل. ومن أجل حسم الانتصار في تلك المعركة المصيرية، تستخدم المشاعر الوطنية الجياشة كوقود لماكينة سياسية وإعلامية تشرعن بلا هوادة إقصاء الآخر المنافس، تحت دعاوى التخوين والعمالة. فمثلاً شيوع تعبير "هم ليسوا مصريين" في وسائل الإعلام للإشارة إلى الإسلاميين هو المقابل الموضوعي لخطاب التكفير الذي ارتفعت وتيرته على منصة رابعة العدوية عقب عزل مرسي. كلاهما خطاب يشيطن الآخر، وينزع عنه أهلية الرأي، ومشروعية المشاركة في صوغ مستقبل البلاد، وبالتالي يوفر المبرر الأخلاقي للإقصاء على أقل تقدير، أو حتى يسوغ توظيف العنف في الصراع السياسي.

وتتماهي وسائل الإعلام الرسمية والخاصة، ومعظمها يمينى الهوى، مع توجهات وأفكار تعيد إلى الأذهان  في شكل ما البروباجاندا الفاشية التي ازدهرت في ألمانيا وإيطاليا في الثلاثينيات من القرن الماضي، من حيث تعبيرها عن الرأي الواحد، وعدم اتساعها للتيارات الفكرية والسياسية كافة التي يموج بها المجتمع، وترويجها لسيل من قصص المؤامرات والخطط السرية التي تؤكد أنها تحاك لمصر، ومن حيث ادعائها أيضاً، الظاهر أو المستتر، احتكار الحقيقة، اضافة إلى احتفائها بعسكرة الوطنية المصرية.

والمفارقة هنا أن ذلك الإقصاء الذي يتم باسم الوطنية وتحت رايتها ونشيدها يقوض أسس الوطنية الحقة التي يبشر بها، والتي تؤمن بداهة بأن جميع المواطنين سواء في وطن واحد يحتضن الجميع، ويرحب بمشاركتهم في العمل والبناء. وهو لذلك نموذج مشوه للوطنية يفرق ولا يجمع، يكرس الشقاق ولا يخدم الوفاق.

ويلاحظ أن هذا النمط من الوطنية هش وسريع الزوال، فالمشاعر المهتاجة لا تلبث أن تهدأ، واحتياجات المواطنين الأساسية لا يمكن تلبيتها لوقت طويل بالأغاني الوطنية والخطب الرنانة وأحاديث المؤامرات الخارجية. فالوطنية الجديدة التي تعتمد على تعبيرات هائمة عن الأمن القومي وتروج لمعركة ضد الإرهاب غير معروفة الحدود تختلف عن الوطنية المصرية التي نشأت لمناهضة الاحتلال البريطاني في النصف الأول من القرن العشرين، أو عن تلك التي ازدهرت أيام جمال عبد الناصر، الذي قدم مشروعاً قومياً جامعاً، تمحورت خطوطه العريضة حول تحقيق الاستقلال الوطني والتنمية الاقتصادية والعدالة الاجتماعية.  

ومن ثم فعلى الجميع إدراك حقيقة أن اكتساب ثقة وتأييد الجماهير لا يمر عبر بوابة الانتصار في معركة الإرهاب واستئصال شأفة الإخوان المسلمين، بقدر ما يتحقق بالقدرة على إحداث تغيير حقيقي في حياة المواطنين، المثقل كاهلهم بأعباء اقتصاد يترنح وخدمات متدهورة وأمن غائب. إضافة إلى ذلك، فإن تناقض بعض التوجهات الحالية مع مباديء ثورة يناير يوميء إلى حتمية اندلاع صراع جديد بين النظام وشباب الثورة، ربما يجيء أوانه حين تهدأ حدة المشاعر المعادية للإخوان، وتتضح فداحة ممارسات الأجهزة الأمنية. وقد بدأت مظاهر ذلك الصدام مع ثوار يناير بالفعل في الظهور على السطح، متمثلة في التوتر المتصاعد بين حركة 6 أبريل والنظام الحالي. 

ولا يمكن إغفال العواقب الوخيمة لذلك النسق الفكري على التماسك والسلم الاجتماعيين على المدى البعيد. إذ أن الإقصاء السياسي يوفر بيئة خصبة لإعادة إنتاج الدولة الاستبدادية، ولازدهار ثقافة مجتمعية لا تتسامح مع المختلفين، سياسياً ودينياً وطائفياً. وإن وجهت سهام الإقصاء اليوم للإسلاميين ومنتقدي الممارسات الحالية فحسب، فإن آثاره ستمتد لا ريب في المستقبل إلى كل الأقليات، خاصة أن المجتمع يعاني أصلاً من استشراء ثقافة متعصبة، تناهض الاختلاف، وتدين كل من شذ عن التيار العام، أو عرض أفكاراً وتصورات مغايرة. وما تعرضت له المرأة والمسيحيون والشيعة والبهائيون المصريون في الماضي القريب ليس بحاجة لتذكير، وأوجاع تلك الفئات تبدو مرشحة للتفاقم في ظل هيمنة المناخ الحالي.   

كما ينبغي الانتباه إلى كلفة الممارسات السلطوية التي تنبثق من هذا النسق الفكري. فالوطنية الزاعقة تركز على "العدو" وأولوية محاربته، وتجعل من الحديث عن الحقوق والحريات ترفاً يمكن إهماله، أو على الأقل تأجيله. والشاهد أن أشد التجاوزات الماسة بحقوق الإنسان في مصر حدثت أثناء صراع الدولة مع الجماعات الإرهابية في تسعينات القرن المنصرم. وفي شكل ما، تستدعى الموجة الوطنية الحالية إلى الذاكرة مكارثية الخمسينات، وأجواء الحرب الأمريكية على الإرهاب في بدايات هذا القرن. ويلاحظ تشابه المنطق ولغة الخطاب بين قادة النظام الجديد والمحافظين الجدد في أمريكا، بخاصة الشعار الأثير "من ليس معنا قهو ضدنا"، الذي جاء مضموناً لا نصاً على لسان أكثر من مسئول حالي.

يعلم الجميع أن الفاشية هي النموذج الفج لتمازج الوطنية والشوفينية والعسكرة والسلطوية. ولئن لم يتم وقف الانزلاق الحاصل في مصر باتجاه تلك النزعات الأربع، فقد نفاجأ يوماً بتحول الوطنية الجديدة إلى فاشية جديدة.    

 

د. نايل شامة

* نُشرت هذه المقالة بجريدة الحياة (بتاريخ 20 سبتمبر 2013).

 

Saturday, September 14, 2013

The Sonata of the Departed


The military funeral of the twenty-five policemen who were massacred in cold blood in Sinai was so intensely touching. The slow, dignified procession, the sad funeral dirge, the anguish of the mothers of the fallen and the tears of mourners exuded an overwhelming sense of grief. Funerals are always poignant and gloomy. They remind us of the brevity of life, the inevitability of death and the fragility of our souls. Some funerals also help us capture the immense capacity of the living to inflict injustice and death.    
Men are all equal in death, differences in status, wealth and knowledge notwithstanding. They all wind up lying under a tombstone bearing an inscribed epitaph to mark their grave.  But the way the living treat their dead is unequal. While some get solemn funerals, others are unceremoniously ditched in pit.
Some of us do not take the words of farewell they deserve after the death they did not deserve.
The "Us vs. Them" Epidemic  
This cannot be more vivid than in Egypt where, last month only, hundreds lost their lives in the country's bloody political conflict. The long distance between the glorification of some of Egypt's victims and the demonization of others speaks volumes about the deep depth of injustice to which our nation has sunk. The unfairness of it is disturbing, exposing the cracks that permeated our souls and distorted our sense of humanity. The dead have left and will never be resurrected, but the living who incited, condoned or executed the killings and then danced by the dead bodies are our partners in this nation, our fellow citizens. This is a very scary revelation.
Indeed, the worst thing happening in Egypt now may not be the killings, as brutal as they are, but rather the response of some Egyptians to the killings, oscillating between indifference and jubilation. Many Egyptians celebrated the violent dispersal of the pro-Morsi encampments in Cairo, which left hundreds dead and thousands injured. For them, it was the day of victory over the Muslim brothers, who they believe had attempted to hijack the state and alter its identity. The massacres were just collateral damage, and should not impede the partying, they said. The strongholds of their chief adversary were wiped out, its top leaders were either arrested or forced to flee to hideouts, all good reasons to be elated and optimistic. After all, it is a very ugly war against a very menacing opponent. Who in war ever mourns the fall of his enemy? This can be a valid argument, if only one sees his/her fellow Egyptians as an enemy to be overpowered, humiliated and obliterated.  
And after every round of confrontation, comes the phase of counting and dividing the dead; how many of us versus how many of them. The battle has to go on even after the guns fall silent. No weapon, argument, image or lie is spared in the quest for triumph. There is no time to pause and reflect, for the stakes are high and the cost of lethargy is massive.
The politicians of the new order (and their staunch allies in the state and media) glorify the police officers and soldiers who perished on the battlefield. Those who died on the other side of the national chasm are irrelevant, hence ignored and, if mentioned, diabolized. The stories of their death would expose our side's practices and jeopardize our narrative, the non-Islamists reason. And what do the Islamists do? They, likewise, honor their victims, the martyrs, and diabolize the others' victims.             
Death in Egypt has become a statistic, a soulless figure announced every evening by the authorities. On a less violent day, when fewer than, say, ten people lose their lives in street battles, people heave a sigh of relief. "It could’ve been worse," Egyptians would murmur contentedly. With the increasing number of casualties, they have even begun wondering about which civil war ours will emulate: Will Egypt follow in the footsteps of Lebanon, Algeria or Syria? The possibilities are no longer between good and bad, but rather between bad, worse and worst. Gone are the dreams that hovered in our skies on February 11, 2011, when we built castles in the air and overlooked the misery encircling us on the ground. Our hearts fooled our minds. We were so naïve.
Murder without Remorse   
Whatever happened to this nation? Egyptians have long been known for their patience and warmth, not for stolidity and cruelty. So when did we acquire this toxic mélange of callousness and apathy? Why have we allowed our political and ideological differences to overshadow what we have in common? And, more importantly, where are these destructive ill-feelings leading us?
To nurture both the soil and the soul, ancient Egyptians treated the river and the dead with reverence. They believed there was life after life; death was a bridge to eternity. They turned tombs into giant pyramids and considered funerals and burials to be sacred processions. The spread of Islam in Egypt reinforced Egyptians' belief in the sanctity of life. Bloodshed is a more serious sin than the demolition of the Kaaba shrine, Prophet Muhammad said.
But something tremendously awful has permeated our souls in recent years, undermining respect for both the living and the dead. In the good old days, a dispute between two arguing men could be cooled down if a third party intervened, invoking the disputants to recite their "blessings on the Prophet." Today, scenes of raging crowds who kill innocents, mutilate dead bodies, or burn churches, as they chant "God is great," are not uncommon. Suffice it to take a close look at the footage of the killing of four Egyptian Shias last June in a village in Giza. While the victims were beaten to death with sticks by a hostile mob, the audience witnessing the savage crime yelled and cursed; no one intervened to prevent the lynching. Everyone in the scene appeared nonchalant about the heartbreaking screams of the victims.
The French novelist Drieu La Rochelle, writing in the 1930s, lamented that “the only way to love France today is to hate it in its present form.” Just substitute France with Egypt, and the sentence would make perfect sense. It is painful, but couldn’t be truer.   

Nael M. Shama

* This article appeared first on the Egypt Monocle on September 6, 2013.  

Friday, August 16, 2013

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 27th, 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.

 

Thursday, July 25, 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).

Thursday, July 11, 2013

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.



[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

Friday, June 21, 2013

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.

***

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.      

***

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).