Berkley Center

The prominent role that Islam plays in modern Egypt is hardly news; religion permeates nearly every corner of the public sphere in Cairo. Graffiti on apartment buildings proclaims God’s greatness, “Allah” stickers adorn Koshary stand windows, and taxi drivers fill their cabs with the drone of Qur'anic chanting. Public religious messages are particularly prominent in Egypt during Ramadan, a special season of fasting and religious focus for Muslims around the world.

Television channels air special Ramadan miniseries interspersed with public service announcements celebrating the holiday. Streets are decorated with festive banners and lanterns. Even soda companies get in on the act, offering Ramadan-themed drinks like tamarind, a juice designed to raise the blood-sugar of those who have been fasting.

In addition to these superficial reminders of the season, Ramadan alters the very structure of society, pulling everyone into its rhythm like a tidal force. Business hours change to accommodate iftar, the fast-breaking meal eaten at sunset, and most shops run on an inconvenient schedule of being open for a few hours in the early afternoon and several more late at night. This year, the Egyptian government even set clocks back one hour during the month of Ramadan to make it easier to fast by shortening daylight hours.

This officially sanctioned intrusion of religion into Egyptian public life clashes with many of my preconceived notions about how societies should function. Coming from America, where traditional etiquette says not to discuss religion around the dinner table, I tend to view religious practice as an intensely personal choice that should be made independent of others. Many of my American friends practice a different religion than their parents—if they practice one at all—and still more have parents who celebrate different faiths.

In Egypt, slightly less than 90 percent of the population practices Islam, and, though people certainly vary in their level of piety, the vast majority of Egyptians share the same core beliefs and faith in God. Government policies both result from and actively encourage this conformity, and it wasn’t until last year that Egyptians could self-identify as something other than Muslim, Christian, or Jewish on required identification documents. I am reticent to laud a social structure that restricts religious diversity in such a way. However, my experience in Egypt so far has made me reconsider the relative merits of an individual versus communal attitude towards religion, and I find myself wondering if religious Westerners miss out on benefits that come with living in a community where the people surrounding you share your core beliefs.

I have always felt that one of the best aspects of religion is the way it can connect you to others in order to add something to your life that you could not experience by yourself. Obviously, I cannot speak directly to the experience of being Muslim in Egypt, but I suspect that Egypt’s strong sense of Muslim identity is a source of strength for the Muslims living here. Knowing that those around you share your religion can hold you accountable for living out principles you might otherwise just claim to believe. Additionally, when a society is dominated by one religion, the resulting social structure can facilitate adherence to religious tenets. The fact that the majority of restaurants and stores in Egypt don’t sell pork, for instance, makes it easy to follow the Muslim prohibition on eating this meat. Perhaps most importantly, shared religious beliefs can facilitate a strong sense of community that glues an entire society together.

I saw an example of this religiously-influenced sense of community while out on an iftar Nile cruise with other foreign students during Ramadan. During the iftar, a student ordered a bottle of water for our table without realizing it did not come as part of the meal. All of us at the table insisted on chipping in for the water when the waiter brought a check. Feeling responsible, the student, who is Muslim, convinced the waiter to forgo the charge in the spirit of Ramadan and promised to pray for him. To me, this experience demonstrates the positive power of shared belief within a society. It is impossible to know whether the waiter’s kindness depended on the fact that both he and the student are Muslim, but a common religious culture can certainly encourage these types of positive interactions with others that stem from a desire to adhere to mutual ideals of kindness and respect.