Concern for minorities

Editorial

Omar Sharif Jr., the grandson of the eponymous Egyptian screen legend, came out this week – as gay and Jewish.

The personal is political in the view of the feminist movement and others that emerged in the middle of the last century, including the gay rights movement. But Sharif’s statement was political in the most direct sense. He was writing as a direct commentary on the situation in his homeland, Egypt.

Sharif, an actor and model now living in California, left Egypt last year. His article was published in the gay magazine The Advocate.

“Last January,” Sharif wrote, “I left Egypt with a heavy heart. I traveled to America, leaving behind my family, friends and compatriots who were in the midst of embarking on a heroic journey toward self-determination. Despite the sound of gunshots in the streets and the images of Anderson Cooper being struck repeatedly over the head on CNN, I left hopeful that I would return to find a more tolerant and equal society.”

The motivation for his coming out was to raise crucial issues of tolerance at a pivotal moment in the Arab Spring and its particular permutation in Egypt.

“And so, I hesitantly confess: I am Egyptian, I am half Jewish, and I am gay,” he went on. “That my mother is Jewish is no small disclosure when you are from Egypt, no matter the year. And being openly gay has always meant asking for trouble, but perhaps especially during this time of political and social upheaval. With the victories of several Islamist parties in recent elections, a conversation needs to be had and certain questions need to be raised. I ask myself: Am I welcome in the new Egypt?... Will being Egyptian, half Jewish and gay forever remain mutually exclusive identities? Are they identities to be hidden?”

Being Jewish in Egypt has a particular and ancient resonance, a momentous history that we commemorate in a couple of weeks with a ritual exodus and flight to freedom. Being Jewish in Egypt, as Sharif alludes, has always been fraught. And, since 1948-49, being Jewish almost anywhere in the Arab or Muslim world has been especially difficult and dangerous. (This week tragically reminded us that being Jewish in France can also be perilous, as it can be in many places, including Israel.) But the Arab world is undergoing a transformation, we are told, and how these transformed societies will deal with human rights questions, including, though not solely, as they apply to members of minority communities, will define the sorts of societies they are to become. Sharif appears to have taken the opportunity to intervene at a time when he sees reason for hope, but the tone of his missive is not optimistic. It reads more like a desperate plea.

Being Jewish and/or gay in Egypt is among many identities that can be perilous. Christians still comprise about 10 percent of the country’s population, but they have been living with increasing terror. As Islamism has risen in strength over the past several decades, attacks on Coptic communities in Egypt have increased, with an estimated 127 Copts killed in the 1990s. Ousted president Hosni Mubarak generally managed to hold a lid on sectarian violence, as he held a lid on so much else, including human rights. With him gone, the contending forces in Egypt have been freed somewhat to act on their beliefs. Among the outcomes has been a dramatic spike in violence against Egyptian Christians, including, most notably, attacks on and murders of Coptic people and the burning of churches.

While the situations are dramatically different, Egypt’s Christians may be experiencing now what that country’s Jews experienced in the past 60 years. In 1948, mobs turned on the Jewish population, killing 70 and wounding hundreds. At the time of the Suez crisis, in 1956, the Egyptian government declared that “all Jews are Zionists and enemies of the state.” About half of the remaining Jews of Egypt were forced to sign testaments that they were leaving voluntarily and abandoning all possessions. Things continued to deteriorate through 1967. Today, the Jewish community in Egypt, which numbered about 75,000 people in 1945, has plummeted to about 100 people.

The reasons for the anti-Coptic uprisings of today may be different in many ways from the anti-Jewish actions of the past, but the potential consequences may well be the same. Could it be that, in a decade or two, there will be negligible numbers of Christians in Egypt, after two millennia of uninterrupted life?

The question seems especially cruel but relevant now that, at this time of uncertainty in Egypt, the Coptic Church itself is plunged into grief-filled internal uncertainty. Last weekend, the church lost its spiritual leader, Pope Shenouda III, after four decades as the 117th Pope of Alexandria. He was eulogized as a man who helped alleviate sectarian strife.

^TOP