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.

"Haram, Hara-a-am" ("It's forbidden") shouted the conservative Coptic dad when his son asked if he could go to the cinema across the street. The young boy was never able to watch a film, despite living next to a theatre, because art destroys family values, wastes one's time and you end up burning in hell, according to the father.

This was part of the controversial Egyptian film Bahib el-Sima (I love cinema), the first movie that had the guts to show how religious zeal can have an ugly side and lead to lies, pedantry, hypocrisy and may be even perversion in society.

I remembered Bahib el-Sima when a court issued a ruling this month to block "venomous and vile" pornography websites in a case filed by Islamist lawyer Nizar Ghorab, who argues that porn destroys Egypt's social values. AFP quoted the court as saying, "Freedoms of expression and public rights should be restricted by maintaining the fundamentals of religion, morality and patriotism."

Ghorab is also confident that the government won't appeal because it will put the state in the awkward position of defending pornography. "Thank God we won. Now the government should stop these electronic dens of vice immediately," the Islamist lawyer told the BBC.

This came just a week after some of Egypt's emo community were arrested and also accused of destroying the country's social values, an accusation that seems to be used by the authorities to hinder any social change or reform.

People who are against the ruling can't really express it in Egypt because of the taboo that surrounds anything sex-related. It's still hard to imagine protesters in front of the court house chanting "keep the porn".

Ghorab insulted not only his religion but the entire Egyptian population by taking this issue to court. His action implies that Egyptian people need to be treated like kids and be told what they are allowed to see and what they are not by people like Ghorab, who apparently knows better than everyone else. It also implies that Egyptian people have reached the point where they can't find out for themselves if porn is good or evil. This ban will only bring back the days when a schoolboy with a sex tape can have more authority than the school principal, rather than convince people porn is bad. This case also raises a vital question, are Egyptian social values so vulnerable that they need a law to protect them?

Imposing the moral values of a segment of society on the rest of the people is the real threat, not porn. Self-righteousness and the inflicting of one's values by law is what should be banned, not videos showing the naked body. People should be able to decide for themselves if they want porn or not.

The fear of many is that rather than develop values through education and debate, the government will increasingly use media bans to control thought and quash dissent and debate in the name of protecting a susceptible population.

Magi, an Egyptian blogger, is afraid of just such an eventuality. "I am not pro-porn sites but I am worried that one thing would lead to the other; today they block porn sites and tomorrow they will turn to blogs," she writes on her blog ...

Gihan Abou Zeid, a human rights researcher, compares what is happening in Egyptian society to a mother who holds on to her kids more tightly when they are under threat. According to her, Egyptian society is reeling from the threat of opening up even more to other cultures in the age of globalisation, which is why people are sticking more than ever to their traditions.

I don't claim that watching women and men having sex is an essential part of freedom of expression, but the ban is a clear indicator that religious groups are trying to impose their beliefs on others. Creating more taboos and sensitive topics is what I think poses a threat to freedom of expression and thought. Ghorab and his ilk should focus on their own individual lives and morals instead of bothering with what people see on their computer screens or do with their hands behind closed doors.

This column appeared in The Guardian Unlimited’s Comment is Free section on 31 May 2009. Read the related discussion. Reprinted here with the author's permission.