The Chronikler

I am no fan of fanaticism and I wish fundamentalists would just have some fun, or at the very least learn to live and let live. But, in Egypt, they have gone from being a nuisance to becoming a real threat, not only to freedom of speech and expression but also to the country's very cultural heritage.

This was demonstrated in recent weeks when a group calling itself (without a hint of irony) Lawyers Without Shackles tried to shackle the reading choices of Egyptians by calling for a ban of a newly released version of the classic One thousand and one nights saga, with its ensemble of popular and ageless characters, including Aladdin, Ali Baba and Sindbad. Their reason? The centuries-old collection is "obscene" and could lead people to "vice and sin".

Luckily, Egyptian intellectuals have rallied to defend the classic tales, warning against the increasing "Bedouinisation" of Egyptian culture. This is, perhaps, the most ridiculous example of the recent trend towards, what I call, the retroactive condemnation of published works.

Not to be left out of the banning fad, Christians have also joined the fray. A group of Copts in Egypt and abroad have filed a complaint with the public prosecutor against the controversial novel Azazeel (Beelzebub) by Youssef Ziedan, which won the 2009 International Prize for Arabic Fiction, an award backed by the Booker Prize Foundation. As insulting any of the 'heavenly faiths' is illegal in Egypt, Ziedan could face up to five years behind bars.

"He insulted priests and bishops and said many things with no proof or evidence from books or history," said Mamdouh Ramzi, a Coptic lawyer involved in the action, adding that Ziedan was "not a Christian man, what does he know about the Church?".

In his own defence, Ziedan told the Guardian: "Many Orthodox bishops and monks welcomed the novel, and some of them wrote positively of Azazeel, whether in Egypt, Syria or Lebanon." He has previously described his novel as "not against Christianity but against violence, especially violence in the name of the sacred".

But even if it were insulting to the Christian clergy, my natural reaction is: "So what?" Not only do we all have differing definitions of what constitutes an insult, everyone is free to express insulting views, if they so wish, and if you don't like it, then don't read it and, by all means, encourage others not to.

As to Ramzi's second assertion, is he seriously suggesting that, in order to write about a faith, you need to belong to it? This is nonsense on so many levels, not least because it stifles freedom of inquiry and speech, and also because most religions do not require their followers to be knowledgeable of the history and philosophy of their faith. Besides, Ziedan is a renowned professor of philosophy and the director of the manuscript centre at the Bibliotheca Alexandrina.

So, what in Ziedan's award-winning novel has specifically irked the Coptic establishment?

The events of Azazeel take place around the turbulent and troubled period of the Nestorian schism in the Orthodox church, and the book highlights, through the eyes of a fictional Egyptian monk, not only the tensions between different Christian factions, but also between the new official faith of the Roman empire and the "pagan" religions that preceded it.

The Coptic church has denounced the novel as offensive for its violent portrait of one of the church's founding fathers, St Cyril, the so-called 'Pillar of Faith'. The trouble for the Coptic church is that, its reverence for Cyril of Alexandria notwithstanding, the historical evidence does strongly suggest that he was violent.

Cyril was involved in the expulsion from Alexandria of Jews and of newly declared 'heretical' Christian movements, such as the Novatians, not to mention the persecution of adherents of the old-world polytheistic faiths, and the murder of the Alexandrian philosopher and first notable female mathematician, Hypatia, one of my favourite Ancient Geeks.

With all this fuss about Ziedan's novel, I wondered what Ramzi and the other Copts involved in this legal action would make of Alejandro Amenábar's wonderfully evocative Agora – in which Rachel Weisz portrays Hypatia beautifully – and whether they'll also be calling for its banning.

Agora, which I had the pleasure of seeing last weekend, covers the same historical period as Azazeel and dramatises the clash of ideals and ideas between Cyril and Hypatia, as well as the power struggle between by the Patriarch of Alexandria and the city's Roman prefect.

Although Amenábar perhaps over-romanticises the rationality and tolerance of the Greek tradition and exaggerates Hypatia's achievements, we saw clearly the parallels he was drawing between that ancient clash between rationality and dogma, as well as tolerance and intolerance, and our own times. More specifically, the Egypt he portrays is eerily familiar – what with its huge socio-economic inequalities, an elite far removed from the populace, foreign meddling from a distant great power that often makes matters worse, and religious puritans and fundamentalists taking care of the neglected and hungry populace in return for their blind obedience.

Both Azazeel and Agora are timely works of art because, by contrasting past and present tragedies, they may help us understand our times better and realise the possible consequences of our actions. Egyptian Copts are justifiably nervous about their worsening status on the back of the rising wave of Islamic fundamentalism but dialogue, not stifling freedom of expression, is the answer.

As Brian Whitaker has observed, Egyptian law and how it is interpreted is giving fanatics increasingly free rein. In order to avoid the abuse of Egyptian law by the government and religious reactionaries to shutdown debate and silence dissent, Egyptians need to band together to change Egypt's antiquated laws and protect freedom of expression for all.

Home to arguably the most famous world heritage sites and as the Arab world's cultural centre of gravity, Egypt should be a ripe recruiting ground for UNESCO's next chief. But Egyptian culture minister Farouk Hosny's bid to take over the reins of the UN's cultural and educational arm has stirred up controversy both within and outside Egypt.

Faced with failing popularity at home, Hosny engaged in offensive grandstanding and opportunistic populism last year when he made the shocking claim, for a man supposedly of culture, that if it were in his power, he would burn all Israeli books in Egypt, provoking the ire of Israel and of Jews around the world, although Israel withdrew its opposition to his candidature.

At home, Egyptians are divided over his candidacy. Many are outraged by the prospect that one of President Hosni Mubarak's most trusted minions and his longest-serving minister – not to mention the first lady's favourite – might actually become the face of global culture, education and science.

But Hosny is only Egypt's culture minister. Surely, he can't be held responsible for the regime's excesses, some may protest. But even if he is not directly implicated in the government's abuses, he does employ his talents as an abstract artist to obscure and mask the ugly face of the regime with some desperately needed prestige. In fact, media reports suggest that Mubarak regards the whole UNESCO issue as a matter of pride for his government.

More murkily, Hosny does his part to limit press freedom and freedom of expression both for political and personal reasons – one Egyptian blogger even described him as a "diva" for blacklisting artists who refused to accept awards from the ministry.

"Farouk Hosny and the first lady are the examples I despise the most," my brother Osama fumed in no uncertain terms. "People whose jobs are to improve the image of an oppressive regime by bringing operas by Verdi to Luxor and the Pyramids and [who] pretend to promote books and reading, while reading and knowledge, in reality, are the things the regime fears the most."

"I wish he wins," one Egyptian joked on Facebook, "to make the world know how much we suffer in Egypt."

But it's not just progressives and liberals who oppose Hosny, reactionary elements do, too, but for other reasons. The culture minister has provoked the ire of Islamists and conservatives in a way that endears him somewhat to me.

At one level, this is part and parcel of his portfolio: culture and art are seen by the most conservative elements as being decadent and corrupting. In addition, Hosny's oft-progressive cultural views have unleashed numerous public storms against him over the years.

One example dates back to 2006, when the urbane minister described the increasing prevalence of the hijab – a trend that has placed increasing social pressure on bare-headed women to conform – as a "step back for Egyptian women". Not content to dare to suggest that women should let their hair down, he riled conservatives further by sensibly suggesting that if women are obliged to wear hijab, then so should men.

His ministry's choice of books to publish as part of an initiative to bring affordable literature to the masses has also provoked the fury of conservatives. For example, in 2000, the ministry reprinted A Banquet for Seaweed – a novel about exiled and disillusioned Iraqi communists in Algeria – by the acclaimed Syrian author Haidar Haidar. As a sign of the changing times the novel, which had been applauded by critics on its original publication in the early 1980s, was rounded on by al-Azhar clerics and Islamists who accused Haidar of heresy and offending Islam with certain passages in the book. Shamefully, Hosny and his ministry buckled and withdrew the novel.

Hosny is the only unmarried cabinet minister and is euphemistically referred to as a 'bachelor'. This has, for the most part, sparked light-hearted rumours about his sexuality. However, the country's self-appointed morality police have taken it upon themselves to launch a smear campaign against him.

One Islamist lawyer who has made a career as some kind of 'God's advocate' went so far as to demand that the minister be stripped of his ministerial immunity so that he can be prosecuted for his hijab remarks and for allegedly breaching the standards of common decency and morality associated with his job.

How, you may ask? By attending a gay pride parade in Rome when he was Egypt's cultural attache in Italy. In a manifestation of the Arabic proverb "He who digs a pit for his brother falls in it himself", the lawyer also offensively demanded that government's cultural tsar undergo the kind of intrusive medical examination that the regime has used in its recent crackdowns against homosexuals.

But beyond the political and personal, does Hosny have what it takes to run UNESCO? Despite his questionable track record on freedom of expression, Hosny has over two decades of experience and has scored some major successes, including a string of new museums, arts centres, state-funded theatres, the Cairo history rehabilitation project, and the establishment of a cultural development fund.

However, the fact remains that he represents a regime that invests pitifully little in education, science and culture – the mandates of Unesco – and limits the freedoms of its citizens. But then again, if we're ever to have an Arab Unesco chief, are there any better candidates out there?

This column appeared in The Guardian Unlimited’s Comment is Free section on 11 September 2009. Read the related discussion.