We Are The Pharaohs: An Inquiry Into The Cultural Makeup of Egyptian Identity

Are we the Pharaohs? It seems not, though some people like to believe so. It comes back to a sense of identity. First, there is personal identity. Where personal identities overlap, there is group identity. Such a concept can be extended to the nation-state, which brings about national identity. Egyptian national identity is rich, but it’s also, oftentimes, quite confused. People have varying opinions and self-perceptions of what it is to be an Egyptian. Some build upon a rigid idea of uniform identity, claiming that Egypt is just one thing and nothing else; others believe that Egypt is many things, and there need not be a constant contest for dominance.

Politically speaking, Egypt is both African and Arab, boasting seven out of eight SecretaryGenerals of the Arab League, including the current one, as well as chairing the African Union for this cycle. Geographically, Egypt is African. Geopolitically speaking, Egypt is Middle Eastern, which in itself is a vague term; the French used proche-orient or Near East for a period of time to describe roughly the same region. In terms of demography, Egypt is a Sunni Muslim-majority country with a significant Coptic Christian minority. Linguistically, Egypt speaks its own spin of Arabic with touches of Persian, Turkish, Italian, French, and an ever-increasing English influence. Our mobile or telephone numbers start with zero, we steer the direction, wear a guanti, thank the pasha or the bey, and would like to have a shawerma with tomeya bas, without the pickles! Perhaps the last part is only me, though.

To claim that Egypt is not Arab, and that there is a difference between Arab and Arabicspeaking states, is an argument which disregards cultural questions and only deals with ethnicity. Furthermore, it imposes a sort of dominating supremacy to the Arab identity which demands a repression of its sub-identities. Due to migration and intermarriage, questions of ethnicity are both largely unanswerable and of little use in today’s world. Moreover, the idea that culture within identity is a zero-sum game, has been pushed aside by intersectionality theory, and interpretation of one’s own identity has become a tool of empowerment for those stuck between identities or cultures. Why does Egypt have to be strictly Pharaonic, Arab, or African? Why can it not be a liaison between cultures, a bridge above the rifts?

How can an Egyptian speak Arabic as their mother tongue, listen to Arabic (Egyptian or otherwise) music, and read Arabic books and poetry, yet somehow not be Arab? People taking this stance tend to want to break free from some customs and traditions deemed backwards, which is a justified point of view. However, one must not destroy or disown the entire culture to break free from the traditions of yesterday - doing so suggests the creation of an alternate culture (i.e. Egyptian), but such an approach is flawed as the alternate culture is heavily based on the culture being destroyed. That does not mean that we, as Egyptians, lack the autonomy to choose how we interpret and express our Arab culture. No single group of people has or should have a monopoly on how Arab culture is represented. Furthermore, considering Egypt’s significant artistic and literary output in Arabic, it begs the question: why should we shy away from adopting the culture we are helping define? In our dissociation from the stereotypical image of the oil sheikhs, why must we also abandon the likes of Nezar al-Qabbany, Mahmoud Darwish, Mostafa Mahmoud, Abbas al-Akkad, Sabah Fakhry, and Om Kalthoum?

To reject Arab culture from Egyptian identity is to reject the entire Egyptian identity, not because Arab culture is all that makes us Egyptian, but because the historical amalgamation of cultures in this legendary land is what makes Egyptian identity what it is. To take away an essential element of that melange is to desecrate what it means to be Egyptian. Being Egyptian is not being something else, but rather being everything all at once. It’s not Balad el’Agayeb for nothing. From here, we can choose what parts of every culture we should keep and let go of.

Ahmed Shawky once wrote:

أَحـــرَامٌ على بَلابِلِهِ الدَّوْحُ حلالٌ للطَّيْرِ مِنْ كُلِّ جِــنْسِ ؟

Is it forbidden for the Bulbuls the grand trees which are permissible for all other birds?

Then why should we forbid ourselves the grand trees which our history entitles us to? This is particularly the case with our association to Africa. Can one really claim that Egypt is not African? Many do. Why do we even want to associate ourselves with Africa, a person may ask, when Africa is plagued with poverty, hunger, strife, and slowed development. This line of thought has many pitfalls. Firstly, there is a gross generalization of Africa, built upon a face-value take of what is seemingly the standard image of Africa, completely neglecting historical, cultural, and political nuance. We tend to speak of Africa as a uniform entity when it in fact houses diverse groups of people with rich cultures and varying histories. John Locke’s Memory Theory of identity posits that if one can remember something from their past selves, what they remember becomes a part of their identity. Taking this concept to a larger level, one can say that shared memory shapes a nation’s identity. This was the reason the African Union was established: to facilitate a process of decolonization. As an Egyptian, if one seeks a meaningful, mutually beneficial cultural tie that extends beyond western influence, co-opting African countries in their experience as former colonies -and thus developing economies- and helping each other grow would seem to make more sense. The question is do we even deserve to co-opt Africa in its future? Are we entitled to take pride in projects with immense potential such as the Great Green Wall, when racism towards Sudanese, Ethiopian, and Eritrean refugees is so normalized that we don’t even acknowledge it? While we are running away from Africa, in truth, we don’t even know if they want us.

Yet one cannot deny influences coming from Europe, the former Ottoman Empire, and the US. The English gave us our legal system, the Italians and Greeks were a major part of Alexandrian society, Russians and Italians helped make Sharm al-Sheikh what it is today, the Albanian Muhammad Ali reformed the economy and marked the beginning of what is the modern Egyptian state. While it’s not controversial to say that Egypt is neither English nor Ottoman, it would be incorrect to say Egypt is completely not English or completely not Ottoman. This is where such a conception of national identity thrives, a place where there is room for multifaceted, rich and diverse identity and identities within identity.

Egyptian identity is a cultural clash in itself, not the type which constantly destroys or creates strife, but rather the type which filters out and creates something unique of its own. It is one built on fusion and enrichment rather than negation and destruction. In the similarities between us, we, as Egyptians are united, and in the differences, enriched. In short, identity is so intersectional and multi-formed that it accepts, nay, demands to go through this back and forth of give and take - this tennis game of cultural exchange.