Tick-Tock to Apocalypse: June 8 1967


The Men.

Rumors work passably well as an antidote to lies when facts are not close at hand. June 8 1967 in the United Arab Republic, nee Egypt, was the zero hour, the singularity, the big bang for a universe of rumors that over half a century has expanded inexorably into an unshaken world view. The day started acceptably enough with a trip downtown. Four men and a boy in a 1962 Ford Falcon, the car with saucer taillights. As the car headed toward Shawarby street, past Ain Shams and Abbasyyia, the men rolled down the windows to catch a bit of air and watch the buildings pass by. There was no evidence of war. No bombed our buildings, no craters, no sirens or cowering people. In fact little indicated a country at war beyond the conversation of the men.

The men possessed mismatched temperaments, yet they all offered various rumors, all with impeccable provenance, to attempt an understanding of what they could not yet name, or perhaps dare not name. Many of these rumors would be offered the next day by the President of the Republic in lieu of accountability. The great man was a supreme conjurer who could tease hopes and dreams out of thin air and then let the people watch them flutter away as doves do in a magic act. The rumors were ramparts against reality, building an air tight case for collusion and a massive stab in the back by external forces. The number of planes in the air was three times the size of the Israeli air force, so where did the additional planes come from? And what about the attack from the west, where only the American airbase in Libya could support such a venture? Didn’t some farmer find American insignia below the hastily painted Israeli star on a downed airplane?  The men were not all supporters of Nasser, but in a moment of crisis they could no more part with him than accept the undiluted humiliation of the day. One of the men spoke forcefully to the dashboard. “Bas Kedda. El Zubat Kharabo El Balad“. “Enough. The army officers have ruined the country”. Another felt safe to raise a point in the company of friends and in the privacy of an automobile. What if the price of defeat is the removal of Nasser? No one could not imagine a different leader, or one that was not an army officer. In fact, there seemed to be no alternative to the great man. They started the journey certain about past events they did not know and were now coming to its end unsure of what future events they wished to see. The Egyptians, in their hurt pride, had conjured their great conjurer out of their own pain and sense of underachievement. His errors had become synonymous with the nation’s hopes.

The day was not a moment of crisis or understanding for the boy, and in any case we should distrust such sudden conversions. It did begin a process of departure. He could neither follow nor rebel against his men folk. He seasoned affection with skepticism and dislike with understanding. Ultimately he would build an abiding faith in the redeeming power of doubt.

— Maged Atiya




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