Nasser at 100Posted: January 14, 2018
If Nasser were alive today he would be 100 years old. Although dead for nearly half a century, he is very much alive in the country he remade before he reached the age of 40. He is a true revolutionary, in the technical sense of the word, as a man who rearranged the power relations between the elites of the country. The arrangement he created remains very much in place today. Some have rebelled against it, others have tried to tinker with it, but the broad features remain intact and the majority seems willing to live in its confines or unable to escape them. This blogger has noted before that Nasser should not be viewed as a great thinker, nor as a capable administrator, nor as a wily politician, but as a masterful actor that strove to embody every major role the country was compelled to put forth. In a future and happier Egypt a Nasser-like man will be a great actor in plays authored by Pirandello or Tawfik Al Hakim, or their successors. Still, any anniversary with a sufficient number of zeros on the right is a good occasion to take stock and examine the balance of the ledger. What has the man born a century ago given his country and what has he taken from it?
For sixty five years, nearly two generations, Egypt has lived in his shadow. He had always insisted, theatrically enough, that every Egyptian is Nasser and that his own mortality is irrelevant as he will live through his people. But we can also insist that every Egyptian was represented in Nasser, and that both his vitality and decline affected his people deeply. He became a hero at a young age; he was 30 at the time of the 1948 war with Israel. The status of one junior officer was such that Um Kalthoum, the woman who became the voice of Egypt, offered to host a concert for him, before the 1952 coup which he turned into a revolution. Nasser went on to become a sponsor and a promoter of the popular arts. Arguably he was also a participant in them. His rallies and extended speeches were a performance art of the highest caliber. Whenever he spoke the people listened and all felt a close connection with each other through him. If great theater is catharsis for the audience, then Nasser provided a partial version for all the Egyptians, regardless of how they felt about him. This giant shadow forces a question: Does today’s Egypt represent Nasser’s success or his failure? An answer is difficult to come forth because the relationship between the man and his nation is fundamentally that of betrayal. Nasser’s errors betrayed the unreserved trust Egyptians placed in him. Similarly, Egyptians failed to rise to Nasser’s exhortation of their innate greatness, most of all by failing to hold him to account and to limit his power and hence the consequent damage of his errors. Nasser longed to be a great hero and he needed a great people to lead, while the Egyptians hoped for national greatness and signed up with the man who promised it. This is hardly a unique arrangement in the history of nations, and on many occasions such arrangements either work well or fail disastrously and thus force a reckoning and subsequent improvements. In Egypt’s case neither happened. Nasser’s project of national greatness was too farcical to be a tragedy and too grim to be a comedy. The drama he put forth provided no resolution, only an abrupt end. Nasser’s catharsis was incomplete, failing the Emile Durkheim final stages of integration and renewal of self-confidence and internal strength.
Five decades after the actor left the stage the theater lights have come on. The audience members stare at their neighbors scarcely able to discern what relations they might have with each other and what might have brought them together in the first place. They stare blankly at the empty stage and try to decide if this is merely an intermission or if the performance is truly over, in which case they should rush the doors and explore the freedom and chaos of the world outside them.
— Maged Atiya