Egypt’s Christians in the cross-hairs

 
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By Khaled Diab

The bombing of St Peter’s Church in Cairo exposes the growing vulnerability of Egypt’s Christian minority and the increasing mainstreaming of extremist Islamist discourse.

21 December 2016

It is a haunting image. A grieving Egyptian woman in a headscarf wipes tears from her eyes. But this woman is not a Muslim. She is a nun and she is standing amid the debris of the pews which were blown up during the grotesque bombing of St Peter’s Church (el-Boutrosiya, in Arabic), which adjoins St Mark’s Cathedral, the seat of Egypt’s Coptic church.

The only thing which distinguishes this woman from her Muslim sisters is the cross on her breast and the fact that she kneels to pray in a slightly different way. But this seems reason enough to kill 25 people and injure scores more whose “crime” was to be in a church performing mass.

What makes this slaughter even more obscene is that it occurred on the day millions of Muslims were celebrating the birth of their prophet, Muhammad, a time when families give out special “Halawet el-Moulid” to their neighbours, regardless of their religion. Instead of offering them festive sweets, ordinary Muslims found themselves consoling their Christian neighbours.

Outside the site of the blast, angry Copts were joined by Muslim sympathisers, whom together vented their collective outrage at the possible security lapse which led to this atrocity. Some of the slogans were telling of the vulnerability Copts feel in Egypt, with chants asking whether Coptic lives were cheap.

Others made clear their sentiments that Abdel-Fattah al-Sisi should not be invited to Christmas celebrations, which the Egyptian president has made a habit of attending since he took office.

The people demand the fall of the regime,” some shouted, reflecting just how far the Coptic community has drifted from the initial euphoria many expressed when Sisi removed the Muslim Brotherhood’s Mohamed Morsi.

Whether this fury will galvanise mass protests seems unlikely at present. “People are angry about Sisi but they can’t see an alternative,” says Wael Eskandar, an independent, pro-revolutionary journalist based in Cairo. But Egypt is a place where one must never say never.

The chants outside the church echoed a revolutionary slogan used during the 25 January 2011 uprising. In the build up to the revolution, a church in Alexandria was also bombed, in the early hours of new year’s day, as worshippers were leaving midnight mass, causing a similar death toll to the latest attack.

Then as now, the worst of Egypt also brought out its best. An act whose goal was to kill Christians and drive a wedge between mainstream society and a vulnerable minority actually brought many closer together.

Outraged at the atrocity committed against their Christian brethren, Muslims of conscience stood in solidarity with Copts, at rallies, protests and clashes with security forces. On the eve of Coptic Christmas in January 2011, Christians attending mass were joined by Muslims, many of whom formed human shields around churches.

We either live together or we die together,” was the slogan thought up for the vigils by Egyptian artist Mohamed El-Sawy.

At a memorial service for the fallen, President Sisi revealed the identity of the suicide bomber he alleged perpetrated the massacre.  A day or so later the Islamic State (ISIS) claimed responsibility.

 

While many in Egypt have condemned the bombing, it’s also not surprising that it happened in the first place.

For years ultra-conservative preachers and conspiracy theorists – from members of the Azharite religious establishment, through TV personalities sympathetic to the Muslim Brotherhood to Salafis – have stoked the flames of sectarianism in Egyp. Many of them do not see Christians as marginalised. On the contrary, some are convinced that Copts are master puppeteers pulling the state’s strings. There have been even those who have gone as far as to allege that there is a secret project to “Christianise” Egypt.

The military coup that followed mass protests against the Muslim Brotherhood in 2013 further encouraged sectarianism. In its immediate aftermath, dozens of churches were attacked, as some Brotherhood sympathisers saw Christians as complicit in the military takeover of the government.

Such outlandish conspiracy theories about Christians have gained credibility, as rigid religious ultra-conservatism entered the mainstream, and encouraged portrayals of Christians as agents of the West and even “foreigners”.

The government, too, has played both a passive and active role in worsening the plight of Christians. Passive in its long-time insistence that, in the name of “national unity“, sectarianism did not exist in Egypt, the land of the crescent and the cross. Passive in its failure to protect Copts and to investigate crimes committed against them.

Active in its pandering to the basest extremist prejudices, while claiming to defend Christians. “I accuse a government that seems to think that by outbidding the Islamists it will also outflank them,” wrote the prominent Egyptian journalist Hani Shukrallah, echoing Emile Zola, following the new year’s attack in 2011.

Active in the state’s institutionalised discrimination against Christians. Active in its incidents of direct persecution of Christians, such as the Maspero massacre in October 2011.

Sadly, the precarious situation of Egyptian Christians may well worsen as the economy tanks further, the state pushes on with its crackdown on all forms of dissent, Islamophobia continues its ascent in the West and violent extremism ravages the region.

But I hope that the spirit of the crescent alongside the cross prevails – for the sake of Christians, for the sake of Egypt and for the sake of humanity.

____

Follow Khaled Diab on Twitter.

This article first appeared on Al Jazeera on 14 December 2016.

 

 

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Egypt’s regime of self-preservation

 
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By Osama Diab

Muslim-Coptic tension is just one aspect of a wider turmoil that will worsen until real democracy takes hold.

14 January 2011

While hundreds of millions of people all over the world were celebrating the new year, Egypt’s celebrations turned into a night of mourning just a few minutes into 2011. At 12:20, an explosion in front of a church in Alexandria left behind 21 dead and dozens of seriously injured churchgoers and passers-by.

Egypt’s police had failed to protect the citizens despite receiving a threat from an Iraqi branch of al-Qaida two months ago. The group calling itself The Islamic State of Iraq said it would attack Egyptian Christians in response to an alleged kidnapping of two Coptic women who were said to have converted to Islam.

The timing of the attack – when security should have been at its tightest – is a manifestation of the state’s failure to provide safety for its citizens.

Let’s put this in context by looking at the lengths to which the security apparatus is willing to go to protect the regime. Road closures in Egypt are usually not the result of roadworks, but of completely emptying the streets for some government minister to drive home. The city is often paralysed when the president decides to run errands with his car instead of his helicopter. Also, try putting a handful of Egyptians on the streets with banners and before you notice, the few protesters will be surrounded, if not beaten up and arrested, by hundreds, if not thousands, of riot police.

But this comes as no surprise from a security system that has shifted its priorities from criminal investigation and regular policing to a politically motivated agenda that focuses on protecting an ailing regime that in turn focuses on nothing but its own survival in the face of growing opposition and political dissidence.

The eruption of sectarian tension is, therefore, only one part of a bigger problem. After 30 years in power, the Mubarak regime has proved unable and unwilling to find new and creative solutions for Egypt’s critical issues. This has not only caused the Coptic problem to erupt, but the strategy of neglect has added many other complications. The Nubians are now calling for their rights and asking for recognition after suffering displacement and continuous marginalisation. The Bedouins of Sinai are endlessly clashing with police. And members of the Bahai’i faith have been protesting against the injustice they face due to their religious beliefs.

When it comes to services and the wellbeing of Egyptians, the government has failed to act effectively. It has failed to handle our rubbish, leaving it to pile up on the streets. Egypt was hit by daily power cuts last summer, sparking many protests against the government. Egypt currently holds the record for the highest rate of bird flu and Hepatitis C infections in the world. On top of that, Egypt has witnessed a multitude of railway accidents, sinking ships and road accidents that claim the lives of 12,000 people every year.

In short, these are all signs Egypt is turning into a failed state. The 2009 Failed States Index ranked Egypt in the “warning” category – 43rd from the bottom (out of 177 countries). Sectarian tension and violence is one indicator of state failure, where the security system and political leadership distance themselves from the people’s affairs and in many cases work against their interests.

We should not blame it all on sectarian tension alone: Muslim-Coptic tension is just one aspect of wider political turmoil and social disturbance. As long as this lifeless regime is in power, the unrest is likely to grow – especially in the run-up to the presidential elections later this year.

The regime’s inability to improve the people’s standard of living, to enforce the rule of law, and to address racial, religious, social and gender-based discrimination is the root of all threats facing Egyptians today.

Consequently, in order for Coptic Christians to gain their rights, they need to fight the broader ‘Egyptian cause’ – alongside Muslims, Baha’is and secularists – instead of fighting their ‘Coptic cause’ on their own. Copts will not gain their rights in a vacuum, and if they did, they would turn into a privileged group, further reinforcing their position as a targeted group. Until real democracy is established, the situation will continue to get worse on all levels; the Coptic issue, again, being just one of them.

This column appeared in The Guardian Unlimited’s Comment is Free section on 4 January 2011. Read the related discussion. Reprinted here with the author’s permission. © Osama Diab. All rights reserved.

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The curse of the Nile

 
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By Khaled Diab

Egypt is certainly the gift of the Nile, but the great river could become east Africa’s curse. What are the chances of a future ‘water war’?

14 December 2010

The Nile - ©Khaled Diab

The Nile when it arrives in Cairo. Photo: ©Khaled Diab

With the world’s attention distracted by the latest WikiLeaks revelations, Ethiopia’s prime minister Meles Zenawi did not need a whistleblower to cause his country diplomatic embarrassment: he proved more than capable of doing that all by himself.

Zenawi accused Egypt of backing anti-government rebels in his country and warned that Egypt would be defeated if it tried to invade Ethiopia. “Nobody who has tried that has lived to tell the story,” he boasted, rather inaccurately. But why would Zenawi, a presumably seasoned politician who has led his country for almost two decades, make such wild allegations without supplying a shred of evidence to back them up, and why now?

Sceptics may conclude that fomenting a manufactured foreign crisis is a classic tactic to divert attention away from the questionable elections earlier this year, which helped Zenawi retain his grip on power and gave his party all but two seats in the parliament. And Zenawi, despite defeating Ethiopia’s “red terror” when he himself was a rebel leader, has largely worn out his welcome with millions of Ethiopians, particularly those living in the cities, as I witnessed first hand while travelling in the country at the time of the 2005 elections.

Zenawi’s political offensive seems to have caught Egypt unawares, with the ageing and increasingly frail-looking President Hosni Mubarak appearing miffed by Ethiopia’s posturing when asked about it by al-Jazeera last week. Nevertheless, like its counterpart in Addis Ababa, the Cairo regime could find a foreign distraction convenient, embroiled as it also is in allegations of vote-rigging and intimidation during last month’s parliamentary elections.

But are there any reasonable grounds for Zenawi’s allegations? Whether or not Egypt is actually backing rebels in Ethiopia, many Ethiopians may be inclined to believe the claim, simply because Egypt has previous form when it comes to meddling in Ethiopia’s affairs.

After Egypt conquered Sudan in the 19th-century, it launched a further campaign to invade Ethiopia, which ended in failure in 1875. In the aftermath of the second world war, Egypt made a cheeky claim for Eritrea at the Paris peace conference, which undoubtedly incensed the Ethiopians. In more recent times, Egypt and other Arab countries provided support to the Eritrean independence movement, in a kind of proxy Arab-Israeli war. However, for all his other failings, President Mubarak has taken a far more nuanced and conciliatory approach than his predecessors towards relations with Ethiopia.

But why this animosity between two countries who – beyond sporadic trading missions that stretch back to ancient times, and the religious link between the Egyptian and Ethiopian Coptic churches – have actually had limited contact and interest in each other’s affairs over the centuries?

Well, one issue above all else has been clouding the waters: the Nile. It is only fairly recently that the discovery was made that some 85% of the Nile’s waters originate in the Ethiopian highlands. Five years ago, when I sat in a boat on Lake Tana, the source of the Blue Nile, it was somewhat overwhelming to reflect that here I was many thousands of miles away, floating on Egypt’s life-support system.

Herodcreating sotus once said that Egypt was the gift of the Nile but, in a way, the river is also its modern curse. If it weren’t for the “eternal river”, which courses through the country like a life-supporting vein pumping billions of gallons of vitality into a narrow strip of lush green, Egypt, one of the driest places on earth, would be little more than a barren desert dotted by occasional oases.

Given Egypt’s almost complete dependence on water from outside its own borders, the Nile is viewed as a major “national security” issue – and one whose importance is growing. To secure its supply, Egypt signed an agreement with Anglo-Egyptian Sudan in 1929 which gave Egypt 48bn cubic metres of the Nile’s total flow of an average 88bn cubic metres. Following independence, Sudan upped its share to 18.5bn cubic metres and Egypt got 55.5bn.

When the other Nile basin countries were not in a position to make use of the river’s resources, this staggering inequality was not a major issue. However, in recent years they have pursued a drive for more equitable redistribution of the Nile’s resources through the Nile Basin Initiative.

Ethiopia understandably wishes to exploit the rains that fall on its territory to develop its agricultural sector, to stave off starvation, to generate electricity and to stimulate development. Towards that end, it has constructed a number of dams in recent years, including a mega dam.

Despite Egypt’s expressed commitment to sharing the river, the country can barely make ends meet with its current mega quota of Nile water. And, with a burgeoning population and an even drier climate thanks to global warming, Egypt will need even more water in the future. That is why it has been blocking moves to change quotas.

Frustrated at Egyptian-Sudanese obstructionism, a number of upstream countries, including Ethiopia, signed a deal in May to re-assign Nile quotas, which was roundly condemned by Egypt and Sudan. So, could this impasse eventually lead to a water war on the Nile? The idea is not far-fetched, as a number of conflicts already partly revolve around water, including Darfur and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

In 1999, the UN, predicting that water would be the main cause of conflict in Africa over the following 25 years, identified the Nile basin as a major flashpoint.

Averting this looming catastrophe involves careful diplomacy, the development of appropriate alternative sources of water (including desalination) and, perhaps above all, urgent population control.

This column appeared in the Guardian newspaper’s Comment is Free section on 5 December 2010. Read the full discussion here.

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By the book

 
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By Khaled Diab

Following the lead of Islamists, Egyptian Christians are trying to ban an award-winning novel because it ‘insults’ Christianity.

18 May 2010

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.

This article appeared in the Guardian newspaper’s Comment is Free section on 12 May 2010. Read the full discussion here.

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Church and state in Egypt

 
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By Khaled Diab

New attempts to address the divide between Egypt’s Muslims and Christians must be supported, not undermined, by the state.

23 October 2009

You may not expect it from the clergy, but a Belgian priest is proposing that, with plummeting church attendance and the recession, some of the country’s 4,000 churches – especially those “only visited by pigeons” – should be demolished or reoriented for other, more secular purposes in order to free up resources to maintain more important places of worship.

In contrast, empty churches are not a problem for Egypt’s more pious Christian community. In fact, overcrowding is more of an issue. Part of the reason for this is that, like their Muslim compatriots, Copts are becoming outwardly more religious. But they have to jump through bureaucratic hoops in order to secure a permit to construct new churches or even to repair existing ones.

To redress an issue that has long been a sore point, a coalition of 36 Egyptian human rights groups are lobbying for the introduction of a unified building law for places of worship. This campaign is unlikely to go down well among Islamists and Christianophobes who hold the unfounded conviction that Copts are wealthier and more privileged than Muslims and are out to Christianise Egypt.

In many ways, the debate in Egypt mirrors that in Europe where far-right and other Islamophobes stoke irrational fears of the imminent creation of a Eurabia (what I call the European Umma myth) and campaign against the building of mosques. However, there are some key differences. Although some European Muslim communities are centuries old, in western Europe, Muslims have only been around in significant numbers for a couple of generations. Aside from their religions, Copts and Muslims are ethnically, socially and culturally indistinguishable, since most Egyptian Muslims were once Christian and before that ancient Egyptian polytheists.

It is this homogeneity that makes the deteriorating position of the Copts and the gradually worsening relations between the two religious communities over the past three decades so troubling and painful for those millions of Egyptian Muslims and Christians who still enjoy cordial relations. Many look with nostalgia upon a time when people where Egyptian before anything else, during both the era of secular Arab nationalism and the earlier Egyptian struggle for independence, whose symbol was a green banner bearing both a cross and a crescent.

Against the ideological backdrop of national unity, issues of religious division were taboo for years. The state has lived in denial of the problem, which it has contributed to with its recent hamfisted attempts, in order to appease the growing conservative Islamic current, to juggle the conflicting roles of champion of secularism and defender of Islam.

Tired of regular clashes between Muslims and Copts – which flare up sporadically, often fuelled by rumours of conversions and intermarriage – progressive and liberal Egyptians have, in recent years, shattered the taboo surrounding national unity. Given Egyptians’ love of and penchant for humour, one of the most successful recent treatments of Muslim-Coptic tensions was a hit summer comedy, released last year, starring Egypt’s top veteran comedian Adel Imam and Omar el-Sharif. In Hassan and Morqos, Imam, a secular Muslim, plays the part of a moderate Coptic theology scholar, while Sharif, who converted to Islam from Catholicism to marry the Egyptian screen legend Faten Hamama, plays a devout but mild-mannered and tolerant Muslim.

Faced with the wrath of extremists from both their communities for their moderation, the two characters are forced to go underground as part of a witness protection programme and assume identities in the other religion – a plot device that is used to scathing comic effect. Chance makes them neighbours and they become good friends in the mistaken belief that the other shares a beautiful expression of their own hidden faith.

Although I found the film went too far in its bid to draw parallels between the majority and the minority, it was generally very honest and very funny, mocking Muslims, Christians and the government mercilessly. The comedy went down well with critics and cinemagoers alike, but almost predictably provoked the ire of Islamists, some of whom ridiculously claimed that, by playing the role of a Christian, Imam had effectively converted and become a missionary.

Alaa al-Aswany, currently Egypt’s top novelist, has also been addressing the thorny issue of Coptic-Muslim relations. In his novel Chicago, about Egyptian academics based in the American city, he challenges another two-dimensional caricature – that the Coptic opposition abroad is made up of sell-outs who have become agents of the west.

Although there are certainly opportunists in the diaspora who exaggerate the situation in Egypt for their own gain, the character in the novel – like numerous real-life expatriate Copts – left Egypt to escape unofficial discrimination which saw him repeatedly overlooked for promotion at his university. After finding success in America, he used his influence to struggle for reform in Egypt and highlight the plight of his co-religionists, not out of opportunism or hatred, but patriotism and love, as a young Muslim student who accuses him of treachery eventually discovers.

If it continues, this growing maturity and honesty in addressing religious tensions bodes well for the future. If not, then the final scene of Hassan and Morqos, in which the two families join hands while around them a mass riot between Muslims and Copts burns with righteous fury, could be a foretaste of things to come. A good first step to show that faith is a private matter would be to remove religion from ID cards.

This column appeared in The Guardian Unlimited’s Comment is Free section on 17 October 2009. Read the related discussion.

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