Maged Mandour is a political analyst and author of “Egypt Under El-Sisi: A Nation on the Edge.” He writes for multiple outlets and has made several media appearances as an expert on Egyptian politics and the Sisi regime.
On Nov. 4, and to much fanfare, the regime opened the Grand Egyptian Museum, touted to be the largest archaeological museum in the world, with an estimated cost of $1 billion. The regime's propaganda machine went into over drive, not only touting the construction of the museum as a remarkable achievement, but highlighting—using nationalist rhetoric—global reactions as a sign of the country's greatness. The campaign is not the first time that the regime has invoked ancient Egyptian history to push its version of chauvinistic Egyptian nationalism, which serves to justify its foreign and domestic policies.
For example, a very similar event took place in April 2021, when Cairo moved the mummies of ancient Egyptian kings and queens from the old museum to what would become the Grand Egyptian Museum. In both cases, the popular reaction—at least among the middle and upper classes—was genuine enthusiasm and pride in an imagined, glorious past. In effect, notions of Egypt's greatness became rampant, and, implicitly, so did a version of Egyptian history that glorifies the state and the military.
To fully grasp the importance of this celebration, it is crucial to observe the version of Egyptian history propagated by the regime and the implicit connections it draws to the past. The most notable example is the claim made by regime propagandists that the Egyptian army was the first regular army in history, and that the modern Egyptian army is a continuation of the same institution, with no historical discontinuity. The goal is to draw a straight line between an army that supposedly built a glorious past and the one currently dominating the country.
The glorification of the military as a source of timeless nationalism is accompanied by another fantastical claim, namely that the Egyptian state is the oldest in human history, and that its modern incarnation is an extension of the same ruling apparatus. In linking the two, the regime claims that the military has acted as the defender of the state from time immemorial. However, such claims are ludicrous, as the modern Egyptian military and state were effectively built over the course of the 19th century, making both barely two centuries old. Historical accuracy and nuance, however, do not make for good propaganda.
This narrative also serves to create a version of history devoid of what Egyptian President Abdel Fattah El-Sisi considers his most pressing nuisance: the people inhabiting the country. The regime's version of ancient Egyptian history is one of the pharaohs, the state and the military, with the people of Egypt completely removed from the narrative.
This narrative also serves to create a version of history devoid of what Egyptian President Abdel Fattah El-Sisi considers his most pressing nuisance: the people inhabiting the country.
- Maged Mandour
The approach allows the regime to create an abstract concept of the "nation," the "state" and the "military," completely separating them from the citizen and even military conscripts. Thus, this abstract entity can hold contradictory interests to that of the citizenry. Further, it works to justify the belief that citizen interests should be sacrificed for the nation—now inseparable from the regime itself.
Recalling a 2023 Sisi speech, the dictator demurred about the acceptability of hunger as a necessary sacrifice for progress and prosperity, making a case that citizens were expected to make massive sacrifices for the interest of a mythical "nation." This narrative is central to the regime's constant attempt to legitimize itself, even to the extent of marginalizing the poor in and from the public space. It also allows the regime to sever the people from their history, devolving them into non-effectual entities who should be thankful to perpetually live on the margins.
The creation of this abstract notion of the nation and its history allows the regime to justify its policies. For example, it allows the regime to create implicit links between its mega projects, with the restoration of a glorious past and evidence of that glory are the monuments that it left behind. Sisi suddenly becomes a modern-day pharaoh, and a rich one at that.
In this vein, a golden statue was created for Sisi, inspired by the pharaohs during his visit to Brussels in October. The Union of Egyptians Abroad—a expatriate civil society organization aligned with the regime—built the statue with the openly stated goal of emulating the Pharaohs of old.
Similarly, abstract notions of the nation and history help the regime propagate a rhetoric that not only negates the agency of most Egyptians but removes them from their history.
The effects are clear: The contempt that regime elites and the upper class have for the poor and their countrymen becomes justified as a national project. That project aligns with Sisi's stated goal of building a new man as the foundation of progress and development. It constitutes a misogynistic rhetoric on par with Nazi Germany or fascist Italy, based on the logic that the people—not the regime and its policies—must be remade.
However, popular jubilation, at least among the middle class, remains relatively widespread because of propaganda events like the opening of the Grand Egyptian Museum. The reason is simple: The regime narrative holds hegemony over a large segment of the population across the political spectrum, including much of the opposition. Amid an ever-darkening present, nostalgia for past glories and national pride serve as excellent distractions.
But a deeper and more disturbing reason is that the abstract notion of the nation and the state allow Egyptian elites and large segments of the middle class to justify mass acts of state violence against the poor, continuing their impoverishment. That policy is realized in the name of an equally abstract national interest that is not subject to debate and cannot be questioned. Indeed, a national interest that is defined by regime elites heavily stemming from the military establishment presents a major obstacle to any democratic future.
In essence, the regime has succeeded in manufacturing an imagined past that not only justifies its policies but effectively redefines what Egyptian history, the nation, the state and the military mean today. Within that new definition, a nation is reimagined, where Egyptians are replaced by a militarized elite that must protect the state and the citizen—a childlike burden at best.
Unfortunately, that version of the nation is now deeply entrenched, to the point that many of the those oppressed by it have come to adopt the narrative to sketch out some form of meaning, identity and involvement in Egyptian society.
The views and positions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of DAWN.
