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Confederates in Ethiopia: American industrial warfare and Egyptian imperialism in central Africa

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By James A. Fargher

Loring’s recollections of his time in Ethiopia provide a fascinating glimpse into one of the 19th century’s intra-African wars, fought in an area of the world virtually unknown to Europeans and Americans at the time.

The 1874-1884 Egyptian-Ethiopian War is one of the 19th century’s more obscure conflicts. One of the most surprising aspects of the conflict is that it involved a group of ex-Confederate officers who had been hired by an Ottoman viceroy to conquer an empire in central Africa. These Confederate veterans had fought in the US Civil War, in part to preserve a social system based on the enslavement of Africans and their descendants. However, along with some Union officers, less than five years after the fall of the Confederacy they found themselves posted over 6,000 miles away from home, in new uniforms and leading columns of African troops into the Ethiopian highlands.

Though technically a self-governing province of the Ottoman Empire, Egypt was ruled by the ambitious Khedive Ismail (1863 – 1879) who dreamed of elevating his kingdom to the stature of one of the great European powers. In order to do so, he planned to push Egypt’s borders south to Lake Victoria and to encompass everything above the Equator between the Sahara Desert in the west and the Indian Ocean in the east.[1] This included consolidating Egypt’s grip over the vast territory of Sudan, which was already ruled as an Egyptian colony, and establishing Egyptian hegemony over the east coast of Africa from Suez to Somalia.

Ismail became convinced that the new methods of warfare pioneered by the Americans could make his vision a reality by modernising the Egyptian army. Egypt was the wealthiest and most developed state in northeastern Africa in the 1870s, but less powerful empires and kingdoms in the region, including Ethiopia, were still capable of meeting the Egyptian challenge. The armies of Emperor Yohannes IV of Ethiopia, for example, vastly outnumbered Egyptian expeditionary forces. Ismail recognised that he would need to introduce technological innovations and reforms into his army before he could begin his conquest of the African interior. The khedive was therefore somewhat ahead of his time, as contemporary Europeans continued to look to the wars of the 18th century for guidance on all matters tactical and strategic.[2]

The Khedive was originally introduced to the idea of hiring American officers to reorganize his army when he met Thaddeus Mott, an ex-Union artillery officer, and adventurer in the sultan’s court in Constantinople in 1868.[3] Mott regaled Ismail with testimonies about the advances the Americans had achieved in technology and tactics during the US Civil War that he convinced the Khedive to hire American veterans to oversee the modernisation of Egypt’s armed forces. In 1870, the first of these military overseers, ex-Confederate officers Henry Hopkins Sibley and William Wing Loring, arrived in Egypt on the recommendation of General William Tecumseh Sherman.[4]

Initially, these men were put to work designing coastal fortifications and lighthouses, with later arrivals helping to conduct surveys of the African territory already under Egyptian control.[5] In 1874 the Khedive launched an invasion of the ancient Christian empire of Ethiopia, Egypt’s principal rival in northeastern Africa, with his armies led in part by American officers.

One of these officers, William W. Loring, published a memoir of his experience in the Ethiopian War. A North Carolinian, Loring sided with the Confederacy during the Civil War and was put in command of an army in northwestern Virginia. He subsequently served in the western theatre until the collapse of the Confederacy in 1865. In 1870, he was appointed by the Khedive as Inspector-General of the Egyptian army, and in 1875 he was promoted to become the chief of staff to the commander-in-chief of the Egyptian military expedition in Ethiopia.

Loring’s recollections of his time in Ethiopia provide a fascinating glimpse into one of the 19th century’s intra-African wars, fought in an area of the world virtually unknown to Europeans and Americans at the time.[6] Twice, Egyptian columns marched deep into the interior of Ethiopia, once from the Red Sea coast and once from the Sudan, only to be met by an overwhelming number of enemy forces. Although the Egyptians were better equipped than their medieval Ethiopian counterparts, who were often armed with swords and chainmail, they operated on extended supply lines deep inside enemy territory. On both occasions, the Egyptian columns were crushed by the sheer weight of Ethiopian numbers.

American officers played a small but noteworthy role in orchestrating these campaigns. At the Battle of Gura in 1876, for example, William Loring may have altered the course of the war by taunting his Egyptian commanding officer into action. Confronted by an Ethiopian detachment which outnumbered his column, the Egyptian commander was goaded by Loring into leaving the safety of a local fortress and marching out to meet the Ethiopians in the open plain.[7] The ensuing battle was a disaster as the Egyptian column was overwhelmed, forcing a general retreat. The war subsequently lapsed into a stalemate until the British admiral Sir William Hewett brokered a final peace treaty in 1884.[8]

Egypt’s attempts to conquer Ethiopia were effectively extinguished after the Battle of Gura. The involvement of US Civil War veterans in the Egyptian-Ethiopian War has ended only as a fascinating footnote in the history of Egypt’s failed attempt to forge an African empire. The legacy of these American officers, however, is intertwined with the memory of Egyptian imperialism which continues to overshadow regional relationships in northeastern Africa in the present day.

James is a second-year doctoral candidate in the Laughton Naval Unit specialising in British imperial and naval history.

Notes:

[1] Thomas Pakenham, The Scramble for Africa, 1876-1912 (London: Abacus, 1991), 77.

[2] Margaret MacMillan, ‘Thinking About War Before 1914,’ Lecture, Humanitas Lectures from University of Cambridge, Cambridge, 10 February 2014.

[3] Cassandra Vivian, Americans in Egypt, 1770-1915: Explorers, Consuls, Travelers, Soldiers, Missionaries, Writers, and Scientists (Jefferson: McFarland & Co., 2012), 171.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid., 172.

[6] William Loring, A Confederate Soldier in Egypt (New York: Dodd, Mead & Co., 1884).

[7] Ibid.

[8] Bennet Burleigh, Desert Warfare: Being the Chronicle of the Eastern Soudan Campaign (London: Chapman and Hall, 1884) 235.

Feature image: Miniature toy figures depicting the Egyptian confrontation with Ethiopian warriors (1875), available here: https://agrabbagofgames.wordpress.com/2017/01/12/a-ridge-too-far-the-egyptian-invasion-of-ethiopia-1875/

 

Dams as Centaurs

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EDITORS NOTE: This is the second article in a four-part series which explores the role of water in human conflict and politics. The series marks (though is not affiliated with) World Water Day 2016, a UN initiative to promote awareness of water issues. More information on World Water Day can be found here. The first article in the series can be found here.

By: Filippo Menga

Aswan Dam, Egypt. Source: WikiMedia

In Greek mythology, the centaur was a creature with the head, arms, and torso of a man and the body and legs of a horse. The Italian thinker Niccolò Machiavelli used the image of the centaur to delineate the traits and attitudes of a good ruler, the Prince, who would know how to use his strength (or force), but also his intellect. A Prince had to be respected to obtain obedience, as in the ideal case of Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius, who ‘possessed many qualities which earned him great respect, all his life he succeeded in holding both of these [the soldiers and the populace] in check and he was never hated or scorned’.[1]

Although this might at first sound as a conceptual overstretch, the image of the centaur can be useful to metaphorically represent one of the least philosophical and more down-to-earth (or water) structures of our time, major dams.[2] In order to prove so, some context is needed.

Dams are, perhaps, the most spectacular way to tame water resources. They can serve multiple purposes, such as generating hydroelectricity, controlling water flows, and allowing irrigated agriculture and urban development. As illustrated by the work of the US-based NGO International Rivers, we are currently witnessing a new boom in the global dam industry. But things have not always been this way. Following the first boom in the early and mid-twentieth century, the number of dams being built worldwide started to decline in the 1970s. Sanjeev Khagram[3] proposes four arguments to explain this phenomenon.

The first is technical, due to the overexploitation of rivers and the subsequent scarcity of suitable sites where new dams could be built. The second is financial, and is related to the shortage of funding for this kind of projects, which are notoriously very costly. On top of that, the hydropower sector is frequently linked with corruption. Transparency International, an NGO which monitors corporate and political corruption, dedicated its 2008 Global Corruption Report to Corruption in the Water Sector, noting that the ‘hydropower sector’s massive investment volumes (estimated at US$50–60 billion annually over the coming decades) and highly complex, customised engineering projects can be a breeding ground for corruption in the design, tendering and execution of large-scale dam projects around the world’.[4] The third reason is economic, and refers to the viability of cheaper alternatives (such as natural gas power plants), while the fourth is political, and stems from public protests against dams and the emergence of the environmental awareness paradigm inspired by the Green movement.

As a result of the growing opposition to large dams, in 1997 the World Bank (which is the single largest investor in large dams worldwide) ignited the work of the World Commission on Dams (WCD). This body had the responsibility of reviewing the development effectiveness of large dams, along with their social, economic and environmental impact. The work of the WCD resulted in a report, published in 2000, which noted that ‘Dams have made an important and significant contribution to human development, and the benefits derived from them have been considerable’, and yet, ‘[i]n too many cases an unacceptable and often unnecessary price has been paid to secure those benefits, especially in social and environmental terms, by people displaced, by communities downstream, by taxpayers and by the natural environment’.[5]

While all this might lead one to think that the large dam business was staring at a gloomy future in the early 2000s, the trend changed, and hundreds of new, extremely costly and controversial projects have been launched in the last few years. China and India, in particular, are now leading the dam movement worldwide, driven by the prospect of producing more clean hydroelectricity while also increasing their agricultural production to meet growing energy and food needs.

Ten years after the release of the WCD report, a special issue of the journal Water Alternatives identified the new drivers of dam (and hydropower) development, including a rise in water and energy demands, climate change, the increase in the price of carbon fuels, and the abovementioned emergence of new funders. Although all these motives seem valid, it is worth mentioning that there is a number of low-impact and non-structural alternatives to dams (such as small hydroelectric power plants, infiltration galleries and wells, and seasonal dams) that would not cause, for instance, regional controversies and the displacement of thousands of people, and would not even require the huge investments necessary to build a large dam. Then why do governments still tend to prefer taking the hard road? Here is where the centaur can provide analytical insights to understand this phenomenon.

As Bent Flyvbjerg effectively sums it up, megaprojects have to be considered as both political and physical animals to appreciate the rationale behind their construction.[6] The performative effects of dam building, those that are clearly visible such as the diversion of a river or the generation of hydroelectricity, epitomize the strength of the centaur, its animal side. Yet, there is also a hidden and more abstract dimension that accompanies the construction of a large dam and that corresponds to the sapiens part of the centaur, its ideological production. I am referring to what can be termed the “dam ideology”, or in other words, the process through which ruling elites use the symbolism of major dams to gain legitimacy and bolster a sense of national identity and patriotism.[7] This aspect, I argue, should be considered – along with the ones mentioned above – as a driver of dam development. In fact, if we apply this analytical lens to some of the current regional controversies triggered by dam building, we can further our understanding of the issues at stake and of the apparently uncompromising attitude of the actors involved.

Classic representation of the Centaur in ancient Greek mythology.

The Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam currently under construction on the Blue Nile in Ethiopia, which, when finished, will be the largest dam in Africa provides great example. Beyond electricity generation, flood control and grand irrigation schemes, the discursive weight of the ideology attached to the dam suggests that the Otherness is as important as the Self. The fact that Egypt, a neighbouring and rival country, opposes the dam, can reinforce among its proponents the idea of the necessity of its construction. Matters related to self-determination, sovereignty, the assertion of power, the control of nature and, above all, patriotism and national identity, are all part of the discursive constructions surrounding the dam. Furthermore, at the domestic level, the dam can be portrayed as a nationally cohesive element that unites the population around a national idea of progress and success. While this phenomenon has been studied in the past by environmental historians (some iconic examples are the Hoover Dam in the United States, the High Aswan Dam in Egypt and the Marathon Dam in Greece), scholars studying transboundary water relations have so far overlooked what appears as a twenty-first century revamp of high modernism, that is ‘a strong, one might even say muscle-bound, version of the beliefs in scientific and technical progress that were associated with industrialization in Western Europe and in North America from roughly 1830 until World War I’.[8]

This seems to be happening not only in the Nile, but also in other river basins around the world. In Central Asia, for instance, Tajikistan is building the large and controversial Rogun Dam (strongly opposed by neighbouring Uzbekistan), whose meaning has now gone beyond that of a simple multi-purpose dam. The Tajik President Emomali Rahmon has often reiterated that the dam is Tajikistan’s national idea. It therefore seems difficult to imagine a government giving up on a national idea, even though this might cause regional tensions.

This is not to say that large dams should be analysed only for their discursive impact. Rather, both dimensions of dam building development – the performative and the discursive – should go hand in hand if we are to fully understand its meaning and to effectively address its necessity. Less controversial alternatives to large dams do exist, but their symbolic and discursive impact is of course negligible compared to that of a megaproject. After all, the centaur wouldn’t go very far without his legs, and yet, it is his mind that sets the direction.

Filippo Menga is a Marie Sklodowska-Curie Research Fellow at The University of Manchester, where he is carrying out a study on dams and nation-building through case-studies from Ethiopia and Tajikistan. He holds a Ph.D. in International Relations awarded by the University of Cagliari and he has been visiting researcher at Tallinn University, the University of St Andrews and King’s College London. His works have recently appeared in the journals Nationalities Papers and Water Policy.

Acknowledgement: This project has received funding from the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under the Marie Sklodowska-Curie grant agreement No. 654861.

 

Notes:

[1] N. Machiavelli, The Prince (New American Library, 1958), p. 108.

[2] The International Commission on Large Dams (ICOLD) defines a major dam as a dam with a height of 150 m or more from the foundation, a reservoir storage capacity of at least 25 km3 and an electrical generation capacity of at least 1000 MW.

[3] S. Khagram, Dams and Development (Cornell University Press, 2004).

[4] Transparency International, Global Corruption Report 2008: Corruption in the Water Sector (Cambridge University Press, 2008), p. xxv.

[5] The World Commission on Dams, Dams and Development: a new framework for decision-making (Earthscan, 2000), p. xxviii.

[6] B. Flyvbjerg, N. Bruzelius, and W. Rothengatter, Megaprojects and risk: Making decisions in an uncertain world (Cambridge University Press, 2003).

[7] F. Menga, ‘Building a nation through a dam: the case of Rogun in Tajikistan’, in Nationalities Papers, Vol. 43, Issue 3 (2015).

[8] J. C. Scott, Seeing like a state: How certain schemes to improve the human condition have failed (Yale University Press, 1998).

North Africa - between security and democracy

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By: Umberto Profazio

A rebel stands guard as another places a Kingdom of Libya flag at a state security building during a protest against Muammar Gaddafi in Benghazi March 8, 2011. The flag which was used when Libya gained independence from Italy in 1951, has been used as a symbol of resistance against Libya's leader Muammar Gaddafi in the recent protests. REUTERS/Suhaib Salem (LIBYA - Tags: POLITICS CIVIL UNREST CONFLICT)

Photo: Flickr under creative commons license.

Recent security developments in North Africa show how terrorism is gradually spreading in the region. On 20th August one police officer was killed in a terrorist attack in Sousse, Tunisia, and the very same day a car-bomb exploded near a courthouse and a national security building in Cairo, injuring 29 people. The attack in Egypt was claimed by Ansar Beit al-Maqdis, also known as Wilayat al-Sinai (province of Sinai), the local branch of the Islamic State (IS) terrorist organisation. Despite that its roots can be tracked to al-Qaeda in Iraq (AQI), the group of Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi succeeded to expand even on the shores of Mediterranean Sea, taking advantage of the faltering security conditions and of the political instability that emerged after the Arab Spring.

IS expanded in particular in Libya, where the political transition after the fall of Gaddafi régime resulted in a stubborn stalemate between the internationally recognised House of Representatives (HoR) in Tobruk and the General National Congress (GNC) in Tripoli. As a consequence, chaos and instability are the dominant factors in the country today, mainly due to the overwhelming role of different militias and the ongoing struggle between the two governments. The expansion of IS in Libya was a natural consequence: despite the ouster from the stronghold of Derna, where strained relations with the Abu Salim Martyrs Brigade led to clashes between these two groups and the subsequent IS evacuation of the city at the beginning of July, the group was able to make further gains. In August IS took control of Sirte, where it gained a foothold in late 2014 and where it enjoys considerable support from Ansar al-Sharia. Sirte, hometown of Gaddafi, also offers IS the opportunity of a collusion with the former régime officers, as much as in Iraq where the strategic alliance between IS and the Ba’athists created a lethal blend.

Failing or failed states like Libya are clearly the main targets of the jihadists. The ongoing clashes between HoR and GNC gave IS the opportunity to expand its control on the territory and to apply the classic rule of divide et impera among different tribes and militias. Furthermore, the complete lack of a national security force in Libya is easing IS operations in the country. Previous governments’ policies to enlist different Libyan militias in the national army resulted counterproductive, making several tribal leaders and paramilitary groups more powerful and less accountable in front of domestic and international justice. As a result, the government in Beida, which is supported by HoR, is asking the help of the international community, in terms of an easing to the arms embargo and a foreign intervention by the Arab League to carry out air attacks against IS positions in the country.

The Libyan case shows the importance of proper security sector reform as a decisive step in the political transition after the Arab Spring. To a less extent, these conditions apply also to other states in the region, where national security forces are already in place. This is the case of Tunisia, where the difficult transition from the dictatorship to a democratic government is currently threatened by security issues. The terrorist attacks at the Bardo museum on 18 March 2015 (19 victims and more than 40 injured) and at the Marhaba Imperial Beach Hotel in Sousse on 26 June (39 victims, mainly British tourists) were apparently lone-wolf operations aimed at affecting Tunisian economy, heavily dependent on the tourism sector. More important are the consequences on a political level: on 25th July the Tunisian parliament approved a new counter-terrorism law. While the bill includes new and important provisions against the money laundering, human rights groups criticized the law’s broad definition of terrorism and the increasing power of police in suspects’ surveillance and custody, considering them as possible signs of a return to an authoritarian state. Moreover, the extension of the state of emergency for two months from the 3rd August risks altering the delicate balance of the Tunisian transition. For example, emergency powers have been used to jail thirteen activists for two weeks protesting against unemployment in Gafsa region.

Similar developments occurred in Egypt where President Abdel Fatah el-Sisi signed a controversial counter-terrorism law, which was criticized by journalists and media workers for the limits imposed on the freedom of information. Moreover, on 29th August three al-Jazeera journalists accused of collusion with the banned Muslim Brotherhood were given a 3-year sentence for spreading false news. While these laws are gradually restricting the political freedom and civil liberties in both countries, it is unlikely that they will seriously affect IS activities, as shown by the attacks on 20th August. Furthermore, they lay a radicalization risk in both societies, in particular among those already emarginated by the current political developments.

More generally, government decisions in Tunisia and Egypt are reinforcing the simplistic narrative that discriminates between Secularists, often associated with the ancient régime apparatus, and Islamists, frequently equated to terrorists. A more comprehensive solution to this fake dilemma should be to reform and strengthen the security sector and its intelligence apparatus, while respecting human rights and enhancing inclusiveness.[1] This is particularly true for Tunisia, where investigations on terrorist attacks in Bardo and Sousse can be considered controversial. Despite the initial claiming by IS, the Tunisian government blamed the attack in Bardo on the al-Qaeda affiliated Okba Ibn Naafa Brigade.[2] After the attack in Sousse and the enquiries by Metropolitan British police, Tunisian authorities acknowledged that the perpetrators of both attacks were presumably trained in the same camp run by Ansar al-Sharia in Sabratha, Libya, and released 8 people that had been detained since March. These men were part of a cell belonging to the Okba Ibn Nafaa Brigade, which also claimed the 20th August killing of the police officer in Sousse.

The reform of the security sector in transitioning societies is a delicate operation, but it should be preferable than curtailing civil freedom and fundamental rights. This solution is adoptable in Egypt and Tunisia, where effective governments are in place. For Libya options are more restricted: the presence of two rival governments and several militias created the opportunities for the expansion of the IS. While a comprehensive peace deal between the two main Libyan factions is still far from being reached, the possibility of a foreign intervention in the country is gradually increasing.

Umberto Profazio is a PhD researcher in History of International Relations at the University of Rome “Sapienza”, where his thesis focuses on Libya after independence. He is currently an analyst for the NATO Defence College Foundation and author of its Maghreb Strategic Trends. You can follow him on Twitter @profazio.

[1] Réforme and stratégie sécuritaire en Tunisie (International Crisis Group, Rapport Moyen-Orient/Afrique du Nord, N.161, 23 juillet 2015).

[2] Maghreb Strategic Trends (NATO Defense College Foundation, March 2015).

‘It’s the brotherhood, stupid.’ Values and the Arab Spring

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By Jill S. Russell:

I attended last week a very interesting panel discussion on the Arab Spring [1], its meanings and the response it deserves. A theme that was shared across the panel was that the West [2] owed the movement its support because the latter was promoting the values held to be sacred by the former.

Before going any further, I have to confess here that I am an unrepentant Kennanist and have a hard time letting go of his standard that interest and not values (or the morals which sustain them) must drive foreign policy. His summary of the essential problem for such a policy framework assays the fullness of the issue, and I think it a wise explication of the flaws and worth quoting here at length:

But at the heart of [a foreign policy based on morality] would lie the effort to distinguish at all times between the true substance and the mere appearance of moral behaviour. In an age when a number of influences…all tend to exalt the image over the essential reality to which that image is taken to relate, in such an age there is a real danger that we may lose altogether our ability to distinguish between the real and the unreal, and, in doing so, lose both the credibility of true moral behaviour and the great force such behaviour is, admittedly, capable of exerting. To do this would be foolish, unnecessary and self-defeating. There may have been times when the United States could afford such frivolity. This present age, unfortunately, is not one of them. [3]

Functionally I cannot argue with his formula that values abroad do not necessarily serve the responsibilities of the government in either domestic or foreign policy. Nor can I ignore the ghastly spectre of how such a basis for foreign policy could be horribly perverted. But I am willing for the sake of argument to live briefly in a world where Kennan might be wrong. [4]

Even in that world, I am troubled that the values of the Arab Spring on the ground, and in the swelling centres of grass-roots power, do not match my own. As it is a question of my support, not of the movement’s legitimacy, my values matter.

As the beacon of this piece, let us first consider the Muslim Brotherhood and its rise and – has it fallen or is this just ‘rise interrupted’? – in Egypt. How can you expect me to believe this group shares my values? From the outset the name excludes me. Insofar as they accept women, that role has been marginalised by the imposition of restraints based in the recourse to a traditional culture which define a woman’s role in public life. Even as women are even now on the front lines of the political struggle against the military junta [5], one worries (expects) that this sacrifice will be forgotten in the case of victory. Seriously, Egypt has been past such strictures upon women for decades. So whose culture is this? And if the Muslim Brotherhood is in fact the legitimate heir to Egyptian political culture it becomes extremely difficult to argue that my values are represented.

Moving abroad from Egypt, I worry even more that the conflict in Syria has been terminally overtaken by fundamentalists [6], and that should they oust Assad the future for women in Syria will be unpleasant. The status quo ante was brutal, but as far as women are concerned what could come next might be even worse, with political, legal, and social repression a distinct possibility. This would be the same perversion as in Egypt, where the service of women in the struggle will not translate to real power in the aftermath. I am reminded of the similar bait and switch played upon the African slaves who served honorably in the American War for Independence -8 years a soldier and a slave came well before 12 years a slave.

Finally, what of the initial Tunisian protest that has been enshrined as the spark of this movement? What of the revelations that the fateful act, the offending slap that is said to have driven Mohamed Buazzizi to self immolation in protest, never occurred that day in Tunisia? What if it was not a rejection of tyranny but a man angry at a woman in a position of authority, the police officer Fedia Hamdi? [7] If the latter were true, then what would this change in its origins mean for the terms of this revolution? What if the heart of the rebellion is really aimed at secular norms and not corruption? It is certainly the case that the rise of the Taliban was in part the result of their reversal of corrupt practices in governance. But that was only a small part of what they sought to ‘reform’. Nevertheless, and quite importantly, even as this information on the event has been in the public domain for nearly three years, the apocryphal slap remains in the legend. An indictment of the former system’s corruption does not require this detail, so why does it figure so prominently in the retelling still?

And so, as I sat in the audience, one of only a handful of women, and part of an even smaller group that eschewed a head scarf, I felt distinctly odd. I am not unused to the predominance of men in my professional life. Nor am I unfamiliar with men who think I should not be there. I do not begrudge them their dislike of me. But in the West, the accepted value is that legal sanction based on gender is not an option. The Arab world, across its broad political and religious spectrum, does not fully hold to this belief. And it is important, if the question is whether to support the Arab Spring on the matter of values, to recognize that these are also our values, and they are what make ‘democracy’ something more than tyranny by vote.

Looking only at this one issue it becomes clear that selling the Arab Spring on a perversion of Western values merely for the sake of gaining the latter’s support will not, in the end, serve the cause. Attracting the West on the basis of interest – mutual interest – is the approach that will best serve both sides. That it has been defined as crass, and demonized as selfish, is unfortunate and serves no ultimate purpose.

 

Jill S. Russell is a regular contributor to Strife, Kings of War and Small Wars. She is currently a doctoral candidate at King’s College London, researching military history.

______________

Notes

[1] I had a long discussion with colleagues as to the validity or usefulness of the collection of these many events under a single banner. I absolutely take their point that events on the ground in each theatre must be addressed singly, specifically and uniquely. And while I am likely in agreement that no single name could describe the individual events well, it is certainly the case that there now exists, in the world’s consciousness, an idea, an event, known as ‘the Arab Spring’. It could aptly be considered as the foreign policy/diplomatic international face of the movement. It packages the ideals, broad message and news to the world.
[2] And here we have more problems with mass or meta categories. The matter of what constituted “the West” arose, and for the purposes of that evening’s discussion the understanding was that it was meant to denote the states of the EU, North America, and the Anglophone Pacific.
[3] George Kenann, ‘Morality and Policy’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 64, No. 2 (Winter, 1985), pp. 205-218.
[4] At the worst extremes of the moral spectrum I am happy to ignore Kennan completely. I am not a monster.
[5] Enas Hamed, ‘Egypt’s ‘Muslim Sisterhood’ moves from social work to politics‘, AL Monitor, 20 November 2013; Bulletin of the Oppression of Women, “Muslim Brotherhood” Category . Also worth a view, Mona Eltahawy’s appearance on Al Jazeera’s program, ‘Head to Head: Do Arab Men Hate Women?‘
[6] Let us be clear, I am no fan of Christian fundamentalism. This is not about Islam or Muslims, it is about extremism.
[7] Elizabeth Day, ‘The Slap That Sparked a Revolution’, The Observer, 15 May 2011.

The Lost Revolution

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By Lamya Hussein Marafi

It almost seems that the Egyptian revolution never happened, or is still waiting to happen. A struggling economy, an ambiguous foreign policy, extremely brutal police system, continuous fatal train accidents, increasing unemployment rate, sexual harassment of both women and men, a controversial constitution, the abandoned, ‘dangerous’ land of Sinai, a return to the emergency law, and a threat of a state collapse —President Morsi is torn and lost between satisfying the Muslim Brotherhood or the revolution.

The battle between the President’s Muslim Brotherhood (MB) and the revolutionaries will continue until one side wins or the military intervenes. If the MB continues to hold firmly to power, Egypt’s relationship with the West could deteriorate due to fractionalized, poor governance and the rise of Islamic extremism. On the other hand, if the revolutionaries succeed, then they will also face challenges in creating a unified opposition that will continue to seek dialogue and political integration. This is because they are widely thought of as seculars, liberals, moderates, socialists, and even Muslims and Christians who simply oppose the MB. It is unlikely that the military will intervene due to political alienation, criticisms, and exhaustion from governing Egypt’s post-revolution transitional period. If so, for now the battle is between the MB and the revolutionaries.

The MB, including President Morsi, claims that they are not abandoning the revolution, while the opposition claims that Morsi and the MB ‘hijacked’ the revolution. The MB desperately wants to control Tahrir Square, even though this was where all political groups rallied against Mubarak. Tahrir Square and other major public spaces across Egypt will continue to be the microcosm of the struggle over who should represent Egypt’s revolution. The beauty and irony of it all is that no single leader or political group was credited for triggering the revolution: literally anyone who opposed Mubarak’s regime went out to the streets calling for the regime’s downfall.

Given this alarming situation, Egypt’s revolution seems lost. A solution will be difficult to implement because it seems unfortunately too late for President Morsi to regain the trust of the opposition in order to achieve a sense of consensus. Likewise, it is very unlikely that he can rebuild faith to engage in national political dialogue.

The country is caught in a vicious cycle. Security-sector reform needs to be initiated from within the government to avoid a descent into anarchy and chaos. A stable, solid economy and democracy will not thrive without the proper development of state security and institutions. But it is risky to rely on foreign aid to achieve security sector reform or even some form of economic stability. An influx of foreign aid will increase Egypt’s dependency on the West or perhaps the Gulf region, stirring political controversy among those who expect a lack of transparency on loan conditions and future repayment of debts. At some point, a leader must emerge out of this revolution who will be capable of establishing political consensus and a sustainable vision to get Egypt’s out of its ‘collapsed’ state paradox.

The revolution was genuinely peaceful and people-led. However, with all the chaos developing as a result of the dramatic change and lack of political security and reform, the revolution is at a crossroads. It could either lead to complete state collapse or a nostalgic return to Mubarak’s past. It is not useful to reflect whether it was ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ to overthrow Mubarak in this particular period, as Mubarak’s regime would have eventually collapsed, for better or for worse. More urgent and important is to think about how this lost revolution can be found again.

—

Lamya Marafi is currently pursuing her master’s degree in Conflict, Security, and Development at King’s College London. Lamya’s interest is the Middle East region, especially youth and women’s empowerment, as well as civil society. She also loves traveling to explore diverse cultures.