A previous letter described the looming identity crisis evolving within Egyptian society as it struggles to overcome both internal and external social frictions threatening the state's fragile stability. Moreover, it sought to explain how an increased identification with Islamic institutions has played a pivotal role in healing this void of identity, albeit in a manner threatening both to the nation's history of religious pluralism and, in some cases, to its slow progression towards democracy. Admittedly, this implication of a polarizing society oversimplifies what is, in reality, an incredibly complex pattern of interweaving relationships between various social movements with overlapping agendas all unfolding on top of each other, quite literally, on the streets of Cairo.
The reality is that there are countless organizations and social movements that seem to combine both "reform" and "conservative" voices in an attempt to apply pressure on the rapidly deteriorating state. On the macro-level, this phenomenon has materialized in the reshaping of radical opposition parties like Egypt's Muslim Brotherhood, which, as manifest in a recent speech at the American University in Cairo, has revamped its message to reach out to the more moderate, democracy-minded middle class, whose concerns have been largely ignored during recent elite-centered opposition movements. Even more interesting is the same pattern playing out at the grassroots level, where secular and Islamist groups have joined forces across the gamut of social causes, from the promotion of women's rights to organizing opposition against the ramifications of globalization in the developing world. Just the other week, Cairenes witnessed students from the American University, the bastion of Egypt's secular elite, protesting against government misconduct in the same square as some of the nation's most radical, Islamic factions.
Even if it has long been concluded that "politics makes strange bedfellows," the foreigner cannot help but to ask, "How can these fundamentally different ends of society, whose ideologies seem so dichotomously opposed, come together with such apparent ease?" Undoubtedly, part of this confusion can be blamed on a misguided need, especially in the Western world, to divide the Arab world into two camps: reform and conservative; secular and fundamentalist. Any extended stay in Egypt will quickly test these labels. For the university student, these labels are tested when the conservatively dressed, hijab-covered girl in the back of the political science class espouses a brand of secular Marxism that even Marx might find progressive. Or, perhaps it is the guy sporting a sexually explicit t-shirt who stuns the class with his defense of the double-standard confining women to the household. The lesson here runs deeper than misjudging physical appearances. Rather, these paradoxes, which exist solely as a figment of the misguided imagination, expose the fallacy of viewing Egyptian society in any linear fashion. By throwing liberal secularists at one end of the spectrum, Islamic extremists at the other, and forcing the remainder into the mold somewhere in between, the mind easily loses sight of that indefinable, silent majority of Egyptian society, the one from which pragmatic reforms seem most likely to appear. This error, a blunder for foreigners and local elites alike, could not be more detrimental to supporters of pluralism in Egypt.
That said, not all of Cairo's paradoxical partnerships even come with the silver lining of potential reform. There still remains the very real question of how much genuine social capital, specifically in terms of religious pluralism, is actually emerging in some of these "cross-cutting" social movements. In practical terms, one has to ask how genuinely the Muslim Brotherhood is listening to the ideas of the middle class, for whose resources it would certainly be worthwhile to feign an interest. And, especially within the more anti-Western driven groups, it is even more important to question what will happen if real gains do occur, forcing these groups to mediate their divergent ideologies in developing a plan of their own. Sadly, observations suggest that these cross-cutting bonds emerging in Egyptian civil society are still superficial at best. The taxi driver's conception of the Muslim Brotherhood is still very different from that of the leaders redirecting the movement; meanwhile, the upper-class university students protesting against sexual harassment are still a long way from understanding the social problems facing the more radical protesters across the square.
The previous letter concerning the Egyptian identity crisis concluded that "it will only be through the birth of a competing, more tolerant vision of Egyptian identity that these religious tensions will be settled without the iron fist of autocracy, thus allowing both pluralism and democracy to coexist within the Egyptian state." What this conclusion fails to suggest, self-admittedly, is from where such a movement should emerge and how it will come about. Therefore, let the question ending this letter be whether Cairo's "strange bedfellows" hold the potential to transcend their differences in bringing about a pluralist vision for a new Egyptian state or, as many pessimists in the Middle East have concluded, are these partnerships doomed to collapse the second their common enemies disappear?
Even if it has long been concluded that "politics makes strange bedfellows," the foreigner cannot help but to ask, "How can these fundamentally different ends of society, whose ideologies seem so dichotomously opposed, come together with such apparent ease?" Undoubtedly, part of this confusion can be blamed on a misguided need, especially in the Western world, to divide the Arab world into two camps: reform and conservative; secular and fundamentalist. Any extended stay in Egypt will quickly test these labels. For the university student, these labels are tested when the conservatively dressed, hijab-covered girl in the back of the political science class espouses a brand of secular Marxism that even Marx might find progressive. Or, perhaps it is the guy sporting a sexually explicit t-shirt who stuns the class with his defense of the double-standard confining women to the household. The lesson here runs deeper than misjudging physical appearances. Rather, these paradoxes, which exist solely as a figment of the misguided imagination, expose the fallacy of viewing Egyptian society in any linear fashion. By throwing liberal secularists at one end of the spectrum, Islamic extremists at the other, and forcing the remainder into the mold somewhere in between, the mind easily loses sight of that indefinable, silent majority of Egyptian society, the one from which pragmatic reforms seem most likely to appear. This error, a blunder for foreigners and local elites alike, could not be more detrimental to supporters of pluralism in Egypt.
That said, not all of Cairo's paradoxical partnerships even come with the silver lining of potential reform. There still remains the very real question of how much genuine social capital, specifically in terms of religious pluralism, is actually emerging in some of these "cross-cutting" social movements. In practical terms, one has to ask how genuinely the Muslim Brotherhood is listening to the ideas of the middle class, for whose resources it would certainly be worthwhile to feign an interest. And, especially within the more anti-Western driven groups, it is even more important to question what will happen if real gains do occur, forcing these groups to mediate their divergent ideologies in developing a plan of their own. Sadly, observations suggest that these cross-cutting bonds emerging in Egyptian civil society are still superficial at best. The taxi driver's conception of the Muslim Brotherhood is still very different from that of the leaders redirecting the movement; meanwhile, the upper-class university students protesting against sexual harassment are still a long way from understanding the social problems facing the more radical protesters across the square.
The previous letter concerning the Egyptian identity crisis concluded that "it will only be through the birth of a competing, more tolerant vision of Egyptian identity that these religious tensions will be settled without the iron fist of autocracy, thus allowing both pluralism and democracy to coexist within the Egyptian state." What this conclusion fails to suggest, self-admittedly, is from where such a movement should emerge and how it will come about. Therefore, let the question ending this letter be whether Cairo's "strange bedfellows" hold the potential to transcend their differences in bringing about a pluralist vision for a new Egyptian state or, as many pessimists in the Middle East have concluded, are these partnerships doomed to collapse the second their common enemies disappear?
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