Euphoria in Egypt

In just eighteen days, young Egyptians waged a peaceful revolution and brought down the 30-year dictatorship of Hosni Mubarak and his failed police state. Inspired by Tunisians, empowered by social media and emboldened by a fierce yearning for freedom, they tore down the wall of fear and made Egypt free.

“I look at our society with a critical eye and find nothing extraordinary in the people I see,” wrote Naguib Mahfouz (1911-2006) during a bleak moment in his life. How the Egyptian Nobel Laureate (Literature, 1988) would have exulted if he could see his people making history in Tahrir Square! They were extraordinary in every way, in their courage and discipline and the way they took control of their destiny without resorting to violence, even though Mubarak’s paid goons killed more than 300 of them.

The path to full democracy is long and arduous and there are many uncertainties along the way. The power, after all, has shifted to the Egyptian military. But the armed forces played a positive role in the people’s revolution and there is hope that there will soon be a lifting of the state of emergency, the dissolution of the illegitimate People's Assembly and Shura Council, the formation of an independent legal committee to amend the constitution, and the lifting of laws restricting political freedoms so that Egyptians can vote in a free and fair election.

But these uncertainties must not keep us from celebrating the extraordinary achievement of the Egyptians. They have lived in economic and political darkness for decades but in a matter of days, the light from their revolutionary flame raced across the globe and illumined us all. It is not only other Arab and Muslim countries suffering from corrupt governance and plutocracy that can take a cue from Egypt, but also countries like Myanmar and North Korea whose people have been languishing for decades as well. In our connected world, the transition from a Saffron revolution to a Jasmine revolution can occur in an instant.

I gained valuable insight into Egypt’s revolution from someone who was there in Tahrir Square during the fateful days. Suhaib Webb (http://www.suhaibwebb.com/), an American, is a Muslim scholar who spent seven years studying at Al-Azhar University. He saw firsthand how the young heroes of Tahrir Square transformed stagnant Egypt into a land of hope and possibilities almost overnight.

When Mubarak sent his thugs to terrorize the protesters and their families, including the Cairo neighborhood where Webb lived, he saw Egyptians - secular and religious, poor and middle-class - form cordons around homes and buildings to keep attackers at bay. Seeing how united they were, the thugs withdrew in less than a day.

Webb saw the young knights of Egypt, aimless and despondent only weeks ago and smoking marijuana on streets, transformed into fearless freedom fighters. They visited mosques to seek Allah’s help and vowed never to give up until Mubarak resigned. “We have recovered our honor and dignity,” they told him. “We have a sense of identity now. We have a purpose in life.” Web was reminded of the Quranic verse: Allah does not change the condition of a people until they change what is in their hearts. (13:11)

Among Egyptians, Webb found a middle ground between secularism and fanaticism. They were determined to sacrifice themselves before they would even consider sacrificing or hurting others. They were committed to eradicating corruption, poverty and inequality from their society rather than to any grand ideology. The compassion he witnessed between Muslims and Christians moved him. A leading Coptic priest in Cairo asked his congregants to guard mosques during Friday Juma prayers. Likewise, an Imam asked Muslims to protect churches during Sunday services. Webb’s apartment sentry, a Christian, offered to defend him at any cost were he to run into any trouble.

Webb feels that Muslims, particularly American Muslims, should be grateful to Egyptians for the good name they brought to Islam through their non-violent revolution. In March, Republican Congressman Peter King of New York, chairman of the House Homeland Security Committee, plans to hold hearings on the radicalization of American Muslims. He claims that American Muslims are prone to violence and cannot be trusted. “Egyptian Muslims have taken the wind out of the sails of Islamophobes like King and the stalwarts of FOX News,” said Webb.

But what Suhaib Webb came to realize most strongly during the revolution was that we all have inner Hosni Mubaraks, tyrants within us who oppress our spouses, our children, parents, relatives and subordinates. These inner pharaohs destroy the soul as surely as pharaonic rulers destroy lives. We must defeat our inner demons if we want to change ourselves, because change without can come only from change within.

Although it will take years to put the Egyptian revolution in perspective, several lessons are already clear. Here are a few:

1. If history teaches us only one thing, it is that no one is indispensable. Tragedy occurs because those who deem themselves indispensable become immune to the lessons of history.

2. A revolution must be organic to succeed. Freedom and democracy cannot be exported or imposed by military might. Eight years after the U.S. invaded Iraq to spread “freedom and democracy” in the Middle East, the country is in ruins and the cost of the war has hit the $3 trillion dollar mark! In contrast, Egyptians brought about their transformation in less than three weeks, a peoples’ revolution that was of, by and for Egyptians.

3. The United States has to rethink its foreign policy. Investing in security at the expense of peoples’ right to govern themselves inevitably leads to disaster. As a columnist put it, America must define its foreign policy by the strength of its values, not by the value of its strength.

4. The days of dictators who suppress the will of the people – Neroes playing flutes while capitals like Tunis or Cairo burn - are numbered. An unforgiving future awaits them. Enslaved people have witnessed how the impossible can become possible when fear gives way to resolve and there is no longer any tolerance for suffering in silence.

5. The Web is woven into the fabric of modern life and the power of the social media to mobilize people transcends borders and nationalities. Although many young people are web-savvy, there are many more who cannot exploit the power of social media. They can post tweets and share anecdotes with their Facebook friends, but launching a campaign or organizing a demonstration eludes them. All it takes is some practice and a keen sense of trends, keywords and justice. There are hundreds of worthy local causes. Pick one - a fundraiser, a school event, a town-hall meeting - and try to do it over the Internet. You never know when history will beckon.

The Relevance of Naguib Mahfouz

In 1988, the Swedish Academy awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature to Egyptian novelist Naguib Mahfouz “who, through works rich in nuance – now clear-sightedly realistic, now evocatively ambiguous – has formed an Arabian narrative art that applies to all mankind.”

Unlike many recent recipients of the Literature Nobel Prize, whose political leanings figured prominently in the award, Naguib Mahfouz deserved his honor, as his peers and discerning critics throughout the literary world acknowledged.

Until his Nobel, though, Naguib Mahfouz was not well-known beyond Arabia but that changed when international recognition made his translated works available to readers everywhere. And what a good thing that was, considering that so many of us would have missed out on one of the most perceptive observers of the human condition.

His setting may have been the labyrinth alleyways of Cairo but it could have been anywhere – old Dhaka, sprawling Mumbai, storied London, kaleidoscopic New York – because he wrote of dreams and longings tempered by reality and inexplicable forces that shaped character and destiny. What could be more universal than that?

Mahfouz wrote more than 30 novels and several collections of short stories, memoirs, essays and screenplays, but his masterpiece is the Cairo Trilogy. Named after actual streets in Cairo – Palace Walk, Palace of Desire and Sugar Street – the trilogy deals with three generations of the Al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad family and extends from 1917 to 1945, during which Egypt was fighting for independence from British rule.

The three volumes record in rich detail the daily events in a middle-class Egyptian family, offering insight into a way of life vanishing under western influence and encroaching modernity.

But nostalgia is not what Mahfouz is after. Any society is better off jettisoning some aspects of the old way, misogyny and corruption in the name of religion, to name two. Mahfouz is more ambitious. Delving deep into the hearts of his protagonists - desire for control, hunger for recognition, lure of extremism, opposing pulls of selfishness and altruism, tradition and modernity, faith and reason, body and soul, temporal and eternal, love and responsibility - and weaving those elements together with tenderness, humor and sensitivity, he reminds us that the one constant in life is change, that unless we are open to change, fate will drag us into its abyss. In contrast, if we embrace change without compromising universal values of decency, justice, freedom and moderation, our lives will be enriched in unexpected ways.

The Cairo trilogy is a gripping read. Once I began with Palace Walk (Doubleday issued the paperbacks in the USA in 1992 after he won the Nobel), I could not stop until I had finished reading Sugar Street.

As is common with any great work of literature, one experiences a certain sense of loss in leaving the saga of the al-Jawad family. So many currents and undercurrents run through the 1,500-page narrative, “now clear-sightedly realistic, now evocatively ambiguous,” that the reader willingly and rapturously submits to the flow.

Consider, for instance, Mahfouz’s lyrical evocation of bittersweet love in Palace of Desire: Why had he (Kamal) been looking forward so impatiently to this day? What did he hope to gain from it? … Did he dream of a miracle that would unexpectedly cause his beloved (Aida) to be friendly again for no conceivable reason, exactly as she had grown angry? Or was he trying to stoke the fires of hell so that he might taste cold ashes all the sooner? … Whenever he went to visit the mansion he approached it with anxious eyes, as he wavered between hope and despair. He would steal a glance at the front balcony and another at the window overlooking the side path … As he sat with his friends, his long reveries featured the happy surprise that just did not take place. When they split up after their conversation, he would keep looking stealthily and sadly at the window and the balconies, especially at the window over the side path, for it frequently served as a frame for his beloved’s image in his daydreams … These are feelings familiar to any lovesick youth experiencing the pangs of first love.

Naguib Mahfouz had nothing but contempt for the monarchs, tyrants and militants of the Arab world. Although he could be contradictory at times, he never wavered in his faith in the basic dignity and courage of the common man. It was around them - the oppressed housewife in a patriarchal household, the waiter in the café, the destitute child in the bazaar, the young girl forced into prostitution who rebels, the boatman plying the Nile - that he articulated his vision of Arab renaissance.

Some Arab countries banned his books for supporting Anwar Sadat’s peace overture to Israel in 1977. But this conscience of Egypt who believed in the separation of mosque and state repeatedly warned his countrymen that postponing political and social reform would be “playing with fire.”

For his troubles, he was stabbed in the neck by a young assailant in 1994 while sitting in a car, waiting for a friend to drive him to his beloved Kasr al-Nil café in Cairo overlooking the Nile. He had spent every Friday evening for thirty years at this café, the iconic “Friday sitting,” meeting with writers, intellectuals and disciples. Already in failing health, Mahfouz never fully recovered from the wound, slowly and agonizingly turning blind and deaf and losing the use of his writing hand. Even in such condition, he refused to see the world in Manichean, black-and-white terms. Revenge held no meaning for him.

Mahfouz’s passing away on August 30 at the age of 94 in Cairo is also a reminder for American Muslims to confront a critical issue facing them.

Five years after 9/11, we find ourselves divided into two broad camps. There are those who want to be both American and Muslim, who seek integration with mainstream culture without undermining basic Islamic principles, and who wish to become ambassadors of their faith to America.

There are others who have chosen to withdraw into their mosques and enclaves promoting a ghetto mentality, and who stridently assert their Islamic identity through dress and mannerisms in response to government profiling and suspicion and distrust of some of their fellow-Americans.

Based on what he said and did in a long and meticulous life, it is clear that Mahfouz would have sided with the first group. As he saw it, retreat and rejection served only to strengthen prejudice and misunderstanding. Hope, in his world, always trumped despair.

“What are the stars,” wrote the great Arabian writer, “in fact, but single worlds that chose solitude.” But this star of the world’s literary firmament shunned solitude in favor of spirited discussions with aspiring and established intellectuals on the turbulent issues of the times.

Mahfouz never ventured beyond Egypt - he sent his two daughters to Stockholm to accept the Nobel award on his behalf – but his mind ranged far and wide even as it plumbed the depths of the human soul. One can only hope that a new generation of young Arabs and Muslims will heed his call to reflect and reform and bring about the renaissance that so animated his writings.