Sex and the Citadel (45 page)

There are many recent examples of the ways in which Arab governments have resisted advancement in sexual rights on the international stage. In this pushback, Egypt plays a key role. I saw its powers of persuasion in action at a landmark meeting of the United Nations Human Rights Council in Geneva on discrimination and violence against people because of their sexual orientation and gender identity—a sore point for Arab states, among others, who do not wish to see such protections explicitly recognized in international human rights treaties. It was Egypt that rounded up the Arab delegates in the chamber and led them out in a protest against what they consider a slippery slope toward gay marriage, gay parenting, and the collapse of family values. One diplomat from an Arab state told me how its delegation had wanted to participate in the discussion but peer pressure from Egypt was too much to bear. “ ‘Either you go out of the room, or you go to hell,’ ” the diplomat said, recalling Egypt’s ultimatum. “I think they were joking.” The Egyptian delegation, however, was taking its clout very seriously. “We are the chair of the Non-Aligned Movement, we are a member of the Arab group, the African group, and the OIC group,” one of its representatives explained to me. “I’m not bragging, [but] we are influential in all the blocs. By virtue of being Egypt, still.”

In the past, talking tough on “family values” in international forums allowed Egyptian officials to score points with Islamic conservatives back home without actually having to do anything domestically. And it allowed Egypt to stand tall among its Arab and Islamic peers as a bulwark against the perceived onslaught of “Western values”; practically speaking, such resistance is also a useful bargaining chip with those countries that have either taken the lead in advocating for sexual rights at the United Nations or are strongly opposed to such moves, trading off cooperation on this front for concessions on political or economic issues of more pressing interest to Egypt and its allies. Given the newfound political clout of Egypt’s Islamists, this resistance may find even firmer ideological purchase and renewed strength. It looks unlikely that Egypt and its neighbors will be switching sides in the international battle on sexual rights anytime soon.

Back at home, change—on all fronts—will also take time. I have used many terms to describe the events that began this decade in Egypt and the wider Arab region—“revolt,” “uprising,” “upheaval,” “Arab Spring,” and “Arab Awakening”—but it’s only others in these pages who call it a “revolution.” That’s because Egypt’s scenic route to democracy—full of detours, U-turns, false starts, and emergency stops—is hardly a dramatic break with the past. Yes, the latest—and, Egyptians are hoping, the last—in a line of military dictators has been deposed, but the army remains a powerful force in political and economic life. Yes, Islamic conservatives, once persecuted, now have political power, but this is the public culmination of a long-standing private trend in which many Egyptians have moved toward religious and social conservatism in their personal lives.

Throughout their history, Egyptians have turned to religion in times of trouble and uncertainty, only to loosen up when prosperity and stability return. The Salafis, whose ideas are a foreign graft onto the body of Egyptian Islam, quickly felt the reaction of their host on coming to political prominence; their sudden turn under the bright light of public scrutiny has also revealed their weaknesses, and their attempts to reshape Egypt, and many of its Arab neighbors, in their own image of Islam are unlikely to succeed
in the long term. Their more moderate counterparts across the region—including the Muslim Brotherhood—are a greater force to be reckoned with, but their ascent to power is also a gamble: solving their countries’ formidable problems will demand significant shifts in their own policies and principles, transforming political Islam as we know it. If they fail in this endeavor, the resulting loss of public confidence could, conceivably, not only ruin their own prospects but shake faith in political Islam as well. No matter how the next few years play out, the rise of these groups in an emerging democratic system has already stimulated ordinary people (the so-called “party of the sofa”) to question and debate the shape and role of Islam in society, vital public engagement that was absent in the old order. And it has galvanized those who oppose a mixing of religion and politics, shocking liberals out of decades of torpor to fight for their vision of the country.

Egypt is a pot that has been boiling with corruption, injustice, and incompetence ever since its last uprising, six decades ago; in 2011, a variety of circumstances served to turn up the heat and blow off the lid in protests that rocked the region. The steam is still rising and will continue to do so over the next decade, in shifting forms that make it hard to tell what shape society will take. This uncertainty is reflected in voices throughout this book, some of which look to the future with optimism, others of which fear that little will change, or if so, not for the better. Personally, I am hopeful that when the tumult has simmered down, Egypt will be left with a stronger, richer base for future generations.

What this means for the country’s sexual culture depends on a complex interplay of law, economics, religion, and tradition. Generations of Egyptians have spent enough of their lives being told by those in power, at home and abroad, what they should or should not do; thanks to their own courage, it is up to them to decide the way forward. When the time comes that Egyptians are ready to tackle these questions—and I believe it will—then a number of changes will be needed in order for sexual culture to head in a different direction.

Since the upheaval, all eyes have been on the balance of political
power, and on constitutional and legal reform. When it comes to gender and sexuality, Egypt’s legislation has been positively liberal compared with that of other countries in the region. As we’ve seen, premarital sex or same-sex relations, for example, are not technically illegal; and as activists have rightly argued in these pages, a number of foundation stones need to be laid first, before directly addressing the legal aspects of these more charged issues. On paper, Egyptian women are accorded many more rights than their counterparts elsewhere in the region—rights that women from seemingly open Lebanon to seemingly closeted Saudi Arabia are now struggling to achieve. In practice, though, these rights remain hard for Egyptian women to realize—because of poverty, because of prejudice, because of patriarchy.

On so many issues—be it abortion or domestic violence or other political, economic, and social rights—there is plenty of room for improvement in Egypt’s criminal code and personal status laws. The real problem isn’t the law on the books so much, but how it is, or is not, implemented and enforced. During the long decades of dictatorship, Emergency Law and the power of the State Security apparatus, which allowed arbitrary arrest, detention, and torture, had a chilling effect on all aspects of society, including sexuality. The entire system needs reform for any chance of breathing room, though as the immediate post-Mubarak period has shown, autocratic tendencies die hard. Reining in the long arm of the law—which includes a retooling of law enforcement and the judiciary—will be a welcome step. Encouraging and equipping lawyers to defend all corners, irrespective of who they are or how they live, is also important.

But the biggest challenge lies in changing the way ordinary people think about the law. For generations, Egyptians have come to see the law as a tool of control, not protection, something to get around rather than uphold, for the good of the elite, not the man on the street. This applies to legislation related to sexuality as well, be it female genital mutilation or abortion. A law—good or bad—is only as powerful as the respect people accord it; when people trust their government, they are more likely to trust the legislation it
passes. So it’s not just laws that need changing, but a culture of law as well. Achieving that, in Egypt and its neighbors, is going to take wide-sweeping changes beyond the halls of government.

Education is the point of departure. The task is daunting—a complete overhaul of a system as sclerotic, unimaginative, and corrupt as the government in charge of it. Education is so dysfunctional in Egypt that it often seems to make students less creative and more closed-minded than their less-learned peers. And it’s not just the schoolyard either. Medical schools, law schools, religious institutes—they all require a reboot. Among the many, many reforms needed is a shift to a system that inculcates and rewards creative thinking, not conformity, in all domains—in particular religion, and specifically Islam. When young people have the tools to think critically about religion for themselves, they may be better able to appreciate the inherent flexibilities in their faith and see choices where they once found only absolutes.

It’s not just God, but money that will also make a difference. So much of the sexual trouble Egyptians have experienced in recent years relates, in one way or another, to the economy. It’s not that Egypt’s economy drastically declined under Mubarak. Quite the contrary, in fact: economic growth was a much-vaunted success of his regime, and arguably kept it in power for as long as it did, as the elite were bought off with moneymaking opportunities. As for everyone else, if they didn’t actually become poorer during these years, they certainly felt like it, economic liberalization and global media dangling a shiny new consumer culture beyond their grasp. Millions continue to be hobbled by underemployment, which has soared in recent decades with Egypt’s demographic boom and the failure of the public sector—the traditional sponge of the workforce—to absorb a flood of increasingly educated youth. Unfortunately their training has not prepared them for a place in a globalized, competitive economy, leaving those lucky enough to get jobs with employment unequal to their talents.

Economic reform is a massive undertaking for the new and improved Egypt—cutting red tape, cleaning up corruption, and fostering the institutions, skills, and attitudes needed for an entrepreneurial,
job-creating culture. There is no shortage of grand plans and clever schemes, proposed by international advisers and homegrown reformers, but this is a project of years, if not decades. In the meantime, though, even the earliest shoots of economic revival might be enough to change everyday lives. Less economic uncertainty might well temper the appeal of some of the more stringent forms of Islam that have offered material and spiritual comfort to millions in the past decades. This influence might also wane with more job opportunities at home, meaning fewer Egyptians migrating to the Gulf, which could also ease some of the stress on families. Commercial sex work thrives in even the most vibrant economies, but offering men and women a fair chance at gainful employment will at least give them the choice of whether or not to engage in such trade. And it will be interesting to watch the impact of job creation on marriage. As we’ve seen, people have blamed the so-called marriage crisis in Egypt—and indeed the entire region—on economics, and more specifically on unemployment among young men, which makes family formation unaffordable. When jobs are more plentiful, will the age of marriage drop?

Better job prospects could also go some way to giving women more choices through economic empowerment. But they could also help ease male insecurities, meaning that attitudes toward women—at home, on the job, and in the streets—might become less fractious, and that could mean greater scope for sexual expression within marriage, particularly for women, and less sexual harassment in public places. In the wake of the uprising, and the side-by-side struggle of both sexes, surveys show that Egyptians endorse the principle of equal rights for men and women. But this view is still shaped by Islam, and seen through this lens, equal rights does not mean identical roles or expectations. Women will be flexing their muscles in the boardroom, I think, long before they have an equal chance in the bedroom or will be willing to openly demand it.

So many of the efforts for women’s empowerment in Egypt and the wider Arab world have, naturally enough, been focused on women—their voice, their opportunities, their problems. But for change to really take hold, it is time for men, and particularly
boys, to be brought into this program—to understand how they feel about shifting women’s roles and to help them not just to accept but to advance these social changes. Again, education will be key, in the living room as well as the classroom. How a new generation of parents raises their kids—whether girls and boys are taught to communicate openly and respectfully with one another—will shape gender expectations, and marriages, in the years to come.

All of which raises questions about the future of patriarchy. Just because Egyptians, and their neighbors, have risen up against the head of state does not necessarily mean that they will rebel against the head of the family. For all the talk of the youth-led revolution in Egypt, when children took to the streets, they often did so with the blessing, and indeed in the company, of their parents. Telling the father of the nation to get lost was very much a family affair. At the end of the day, the nation’s young people may find that it’s more difficult to move away from home than it was to get Mubarak out of office. And for as long as religion remains central to people’s lives, with God, the ultimate father figure, in charge, the patriarchy is unlikely to totter.

Yet the uprising was a real coming-of-age for Egyptian youth, and the older generation knows it; for a brief, brilliant moment, young people went from layabouts to leaders in their elders’ eyes. Parents may one day be prepared to cede a little more autonomy to their children, and this, combined with more economic independence, will give young people more leeway in personal decision making, including how they lead their sexual lives. But until individuals have confidence in the evolving state to not only recognize but defend their political, social, and economic rights, they will seek protection in the collective, and so the family will remain a powerful force in people’s lives—especially for women. Men on top—fathers and husbands, in particular—is unlikely to change much in the immediate future.