The Public Copt

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Egyptian President Sisi inaugurated two floating bridges in Ismailia and Qantara named after two army men who died in combat against terrorists, Ahmed El Mansi and Abanoub Gerges. There is a symbolism in the gesture of twin names, one Muslim and one Copt draping the two bridges. We are supposed to feel a surge of warmth about the naming equivalent of a joined cross and crescent. There will be many notables, of both religions, who see the gesture as the “true” nature of Egypt. Journalist and academic Edward Wakin noted similar gestures while traveling in Egypt in 1961, and was not impressed. In his 1963 book, “A Lonely Minority”, Wakin identified with precision a species of humans that he called “Public Copts”. These men and women speak hopefully of religious equality in Egypt, while proclaiming their fealty to the nation in spite of religious discrimination that they deny exists. They insist that symbolic gestures embody the true feelings of the people, while harsh realities are caused by the wayward few. A Public Copt is always available as evidence against any attempt to identify and rectify obvious social ills. A decade after the publication of Wakin’s book there would be further sighting of the Public Copt in the vicinity of the aforementioned bridges. The liberation of East Qantara, where one of the bridges is located, and the capture of an Israeli corp commander was achieved by a capable and daring general named Fouad Aziz Ghali. After the war he further demonstrated administrative ability by supervising the growth of the Southern Sinai into a tourist destination. This exceptional man behaved as a Public Copt by insisting that his promotion demonstrated a lack of religious discrimination in the Army. The evolution of the Public Copt can be traced to the distant past, as illustrated by two other unrelated Ghalis. One Ghali, in the middle of the 19th century, kissed the hand of the Wali that ordered his father’s execution. Another Ghali, Boutros, served the Khedive and British imperial ruler faithfully even to the point of losing his life. He must have known what Lord Cromer thought of his fellow Copts “The principles of strict impartiality on which the Englishman proceeded were foreign to the nature of the Copt. He thought that the Englishman’s justice to the Moslem involved injustice to himself, for he was apt, perhaps unconsciously, to hold that injustice and absence of favoritism to the Copts where well-nigh synonymous terms”. Many factors must have raised the imperial ire in Cromer. Perhaps it was the Copts very different Christianity. It could also be that their temerity in asking for equal rights exposed the hollow nature of the “Englishman’s justice” and the entire lie of the imperial scheme. Or that Cromer sighted a Public Copt and proceeded to dislike all others, for the Public Copt’s habit of saying one thing while believing another fed directly into the stereotype of the Copts as devious and crafty, something that Cromer readily accepted. The task of a Public Copt is to praise the granting of crumbs.

The Public Copt is familiar to all from an early age, as the young witness what the adults say in public and private. Any anger or rage at such behavior is quickly extinguished in the young by the process of acculturation and socialization. It is nurture, not nature, that creates Public Copts. Many currents contribute to the pathology. First there is the simple need to constantly deal with a perennially authoritarian, and often hapless state. There is also the hope that in stating the perfect outcome as established fact the entire nation will be shamed into reform. Then there is the reality of collective punishment, which is a constant secret sharer of repression. Individual merit will sometimes rebound to the benefit of the owner in uncertain measures, but individual error will invariably be held against the entire community. Every Public Copt is aware that honest discourse is not a test of his or her courage, but of their intestinal fortitude to watch others suffer for their frankness. But perhaps the strongest reason for the existence of the Public Copt is the difficulty of the Coptic identity. There are many unattractive aspects to that identity born of centuries of persecution. The Public Copt may wish to underplay that identity, or escape its worst aspects, but will usually find that it claims him anyway. Every Copt who attempts the magic transformation of being more than a Copt will eventually grow to be an old Copt. Anger invariably stalks the Public Copt, born of the frustration of doing exactly what is known not to be effective for fear of worse.

It would be easy to paint the Public Copt as weak and compromising, but it would also be wrong. Ameen Fahim, a Public Copt from the 1980s, explained the issues facing men such as him. “[It is like] an earthenware vessel banging against a bronze vessel“, he told  sociologist Sanaa Hasan. Magdy Wahba, another Public Copt, also reminded her of the need “to walk close to the wall“. There are plenty of men who enjoy praise for their public display of courage while cutting weasel deals in private. America provided plenty of such examples in 2017. It is rare to have men who undertake private risks without expecting praise for their courage. Such was the lot of Public Copt. The public record is sparse, intentionally, but fragments exist nevertheless. Kamal Ramzi Stino, often ridiculed as a Nasser poodle, took many courageous positions in private against a man that all Egyptians feared or worshiped.  The same can be said of Fakhri Abdel Nour or Mirrit Ghali, and the full knowledge of their courage is likely forever lost to us. Occasionally the records survive in scattered public and some private form. Aziz Atiya left the safety of America in 1961 to travel to Egypt, meet Nasser, and ask that his underlings cease attacking the World Council of Churches. The WCC was in no danger from Nasser’s mouthpieces at Sawt Al ‘Arab, but Atiya felt that a connection to world Christianity is important for the Copts and worth the personal risk. There were many Copts, of a more militant attitude, who condemned the Public Copt. One such man was Pope Shenouda, or at least the first quarter of his long public life. For a decade he exposed the sectarianism and hypocrisy of Sadat, who at the time was the darling of the West. Many Public Copts disapproved of the Pope’s attitude, and he of them, but when he went into a desert exile on the orders of Sadat all worked hard for his release. Eventually, Shenouda too became a Public Copt, of sorts. If there is a lesson in all that, it is a difficult and complex one. And in any case, it is always necessary to calibrate actions to the times. The benefits of the Public Copt seem to be in great decline in today’s Egypt. That country would be unrecognizable to many of them, and their behavior might be entirely different now. Paradoxically, the path to future freedom and survival may well be in doing just the opposite of what has allowed survival after centuries of oppression.

It is difficult to miss the increasing talk of the need for a “New Copt”. This is especially so among those who are born and raised in the West. This desire is a reflection of the current realities in Egypt, and of the failure of Coptic activism abroad. That enterprise maybe necessary but now seems insufficient, as no outsider is able to nudge the Egyptian state into doing its job. The desire for a new reality for the Copts seeps to us via articles and talks. One hears it expressed above the din of a coffee shop by anxious acquaintances. It is elaborated over long meals by men and women of perceptive minds and sharp senses. It is a heady time; for this must be what Vienna felt like in the late 19th century. That analogy should also alerts us that sometimes an awakening is a prelude to future horrors. But the desire for a New Copt is fundamentally sound, even if the shape of it has yet to come into view, and leaders necessary for the transformation have yet to identify themselves. But those who come to raise a “New Copt” must first bury the “Public Copt”.

— Maged Atiya

 

 


Of Copts and Christian Zionists

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The drive towards proselytism must be arrested once and for all in order to strengthen the churches of the East by a systematic avoidance of separating their sons from their ancient professions” Aziz Atiya, History of Eastern Christianity, 1967

The US recognition of all of Jerusalem as the capital of Israel came exactly one century after the Balfour declaration and serves as a historic book end to it. Many applauded the decision, seeing it as a fulfillment of a decades-long Israeli wish and perhaps nothing more than a recognition of the reality of the situation, although reality is remade every day by the powerful. Others were puzzled by the timing of it and the lack of concrete gains from what is purely a symbolic move. There is one way to view the decision that renders it perfectly comprehensible. Its timing and language are designed to make the upcoming tour of the region by Vice President Mike Pence a victory lap. Mr Pence is the highest elected official representing the wing of Christian Evangelism called “Christian Zionism”.  Many Eastern Christians view Christian Zionism as a heterodox sect of Protestant Christianity that places its faith in the fulfillment of prophecies and revelations through the material and historic realization of specific signs and events. Chief among these are the return of the Jews to their ancestral home and their complete control over Jerusalem and the lands around it.

The reaction to the decision among Eastern Christians has been largely negative. The Christians of Palestine, a fraction of their size a century ago, disapproved of the move. Others in the Levant voiced similar disapproval in the midst of an existential crisis arising from the advent of Islamic supremacist movements. In Egypt, home of the largest group of Eastern Christians, the reaction was muted but also negative. Egypt sports a sizable Evangelical community, but the vast majority of Christians are Coptic Orthodox. The patriarch of the Copts, Pope Tawadros II, canceled a meeting with Mr. Pence who had proclaimed that he will advocate on behalf of the Copts during his stopover in Cairo. As always during times of trouble (and these are troubled times) the Copts place their faith in the inscrutable hand of God over the proclaimed power of men. Many Copts and non-Copts criticized the Pope’s decision. The criticism fell into two broad categories; that the Pope was catering to the Egyptian state and the popular passions, or that he was intellectually captured by the “nationalist discourse” common in Egypt. In short, that the refusal to meet Pence reflected either fear or foolishness. Both arguments fail on closer examination.

We should be careful to attribute fear to those who kept the faith for centuries against great odds. But more importantly the argument is internally inconsistent. When Copts face death rather than give up their faith, and when their kin forgive the attackers, they are judged as paragons of Christian virtue and courage. When they refuse to accept a hasty decision by a bumbling American administration, they are accused of cowardice. You can’t have it both ways.

The argument against “foolishness” requires more subtlety. Many Christian Zionists insist that support for Israel is part and parcel of support for Eastern Christians, since those who come for the Jews will eventually come for the Christians. This is true; the Islamic supremacists have a habit of mentioning “Saturday” and “Sunday” people in sequence. But this argument conflates and confuses different things. It conflates secular Zionism (a laudable idea) with religious Zionism (a potentially dangerous one). It conflates the affairs of state (capitals and embassies) with the culture of the people (attachment to land and religion). The intellectual roots of Christian Zionism hark back to the Protestant rediscovery of the Old Testament and the Jewish roots of Christianity. It is perhaps why many Christian Zionists have found an affinity for “the Copts” as a generalization. The Coptic Church, along with its Ethiopian sibling, is the most Jewish of churches, as it had never abandoned many ideas that Protestants rediscovered centuries later. There is an apocryphal tale popular among Copts. One version of it runs as follows. An American Evangelist arrives in 1850s Egypt to tell a humble Coptic priest that he brings news of Jesus Christ. The priest responds with “when did you make his acquaintance? We first met him more than 1800 years ago when he visited as a new born in his mother’s arms”. The sly tale warns against the dangers of Western “Christian-splaining”.

Another variance of the “foolishness” argument insists that Copts are in no shape to refuse assistance from any quarter, and that Pence’s remonstrations to the Egyptian state should have been honored with an audience with the patriarch. This argument stems from a Western habit of wishing that the Eastern Christian should fulfill the rule of a vassal rather than a brother. The largest Christian denominations, such as the Catholic and main Protestants, have long abandoned this notion, but it persists in the American bible belt. In any case, any principled argument for freedom of conscience should include the freedom to disagree with political decisions. This is especially true for those with a track record of impulsive actions that proved harmful to many Eastern Christians (cue the Iraq sanctions and invasion).

The entire episode highlights a growing concern that the persecution of Eastern Christians is often a useful cudgel in political arguments. Recent events, especially with the Copts, have provided unforgettable and searing images. There is the image of 21 men kneeling at a beach and silently praying moments before their execution. There is the image of a small altar boy smiling happily in his vestments moments before a suicide bomber doomed him. It would dishonor the victims’ memories if these images are turned into fodder for political agitprop by those eager for conflict that would leave many more victims behind battle lines. Atiya’s description of the church, of which he proclaimed himself a member, “ Coptic Church … had chosen the solitude of its own primitiveness, its peculiar spiritualism, and the rough road of its so-called Monophysitismremains remarkably accurate today, even as its seemingly modern sons and daughters spread out throughout the world, including the West. They would proudly appropriate the moniker he gave them, as “primitive Christians”, meaning that their faith is rooted in the people who kept a historic steadfastness toward the faith of their forefathers, while never aligning with worldly power and often existing in opposition to it. Many Protestant Evangelicals have not grasped that essential part of it. In their fervor to achieve secular power, legislative, judicial and executive, American Evangelicals, for example, are the antithesis of the Copts. Earlier this year a delegation of Evangelicals, including representative of Christian Zionism, met with President Sisi of Egypt, who enjoys the support of Pope Tawadros, and praised him widely. For its part, the Coptic Church avoided the meeting. These are some of the historic reasons why we should not rush to judge the Pope’s refusal to meet with Mr. Pence as a political or cultural capitulation to the popular rage or fear of the Egyptian state.

— Maged Atiya