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Al-Ahram Weekly 19 - 25 August 1999 Issue No. 443 |
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Features Profile Travel Living Sports Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters Just a football game
By Ziad Bahaa-EldinThe defeat of the Egyptian football team in the Continents' Cup held in Mexico at the hands of the Saudi Arabian team 5-1 was treated as a national calamity. The front page press coverage, security measures at the airport upon the team's arrival, the acceptance by the prime minister of the resignation of the Football Association's Board of Directors and the appointment of a new board all added to the sense of crisis.
The press and the officials may have overreacted to what was ultimately an ordinary sports event. But in the minds of most Egyptians, this was a real tragedy that left them with a sense of deep humiliation. The match was not broadcast on local television, but coffeeshops, hotels, and other public places were showing it on everything from black and white 14-inch television screens to supersonic giant screens with fees per chair ranging from a few pounds to a 150, including a lavish meal. Once the match was over, the streets of Cairo -- and undoubtedly of other cities -- were filled with football mourners, thousands of them, in a state of denial. The next morning, there was talk only of the disaster that had occurred. Extreme opinions spread like wildfire, and included putting beloved coach Mahmoud El-Gohari on trial, divesting him of previously received medals, fining the Egyptian players, and requesting an investigation of the referee for corruption charges.
Why the Egyptian team performed so badly -- now that referee corruption is no longer an excuse -- is for football experts to discuss. But the sense of disaster and humiliation that afflicted Egyptian fans requires some attention. Matches that involve the Egyptian national team are won and lost, but rarely lead to such reactions. That the winning team was Saudi Arabian is the key to understanding these strong feelings, which represent the complex relationship binding many Egyptians to Gulf countries.
In the past three decades, hundreds of thousands of Egyptians migrated to oil-rich Gulf countries, which became to many a second home, a source of hope in the future, but also a constant reminder that Egypt no longer dominated its Arab neighbours as it once did. In politics, art, law, education, wealth, and sheer culture, Egyptian supremacy was taken for granted well into the '50s and '60s. But for reasons of national pride and an unwillingness, on the part of governments and people alike, to face up to realities, this false superiority remained with us, even as the decline in economic conditions and accordingly in standards of living and of basic services compared to those of the Gulf societies became obvious.
The need to travel to distant countries, abandon one's family, accept work in fields considered below one's qualifications, and more importantly endure the real or imagined arrogance of nationals of those countries, did little to help migrant workers accept the new realities. On the contrary, the experiences of migrants strengthened the sense of false superiority, and inflated the self-representation of Egyptians as a well-educated, trained and civilised elite which, having fallen on bad times, was forced to work for wealthier but less sophisticated peoples.
The reflection of this frame of mind is easily identified in the dominant morality, reproduced in films, television soap operas and popular discourse about the virtuous hero/heroine, educated and decent but penniless, who has to endure hardships at the hands of wealthy, unsophisticated and immoral villains. The hero invariably emerges victorious, and the lesson is that wealth does not matter in the absence of other virtues -- which Egyptians have come to identify with themselves.
It must be said that the reaction of migrant workers and their families back home was not always unjustified. The arrogance of their employers was more often real than imagined. Frequent experiences of hostility, jealousy and criticism of Egyptians' pride in their distant and near past were deep-rooted. Bad feelings were mutual.
Politics played an important role in the escalation of ill feeling. Despite the rhetoric about Arab nationalism and solidarity, the reality of politics and ordinary life expressed the opposite. Nasser's defeat in 1967 was seen as the end of Egyptian domination. Sadat's rediscovery of Egypt's uniqueness, manifested in the fascination with ancient Egyptian art, mythology and symbolism, worked towards isolating Egyptians abroad even prior to his visit to Jerusalem. Popular reaction in the Arab world towards Egyptians following the Camp David Treaty cannot be explained by political convictions alone, but by a stronger desire for revenge. Other events may be seen in the same light. The pride we felt when Naguib Mahfouz received the Nobel is tinged by a desire to reassert the supremacy of Egyptian culture. Exaggerated reactions to achievements by Egyptians abroad express a sense of vindication. And the excessive reaction to criticism of Egypt is often unjustified.
But what does all of this have to do with football? Actually, quite a lot. Millions of Egyptian fans still consider football a national symbol of excellence, able to keep Egypt ahead of its neighbours, whether Arab or African. But victory is not always on our side. The national team was frequently defeated by its North African counterparts in the past few years. However, defeat by a Saudi team is another matter, simply because Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia are not part of the oil-rich group of countries that receive Egyptian workers, and to which Egyptian excellence must be reasserted constantly.
Nor were we the only ones to attribute excessive significance to a football game. Newspapers reported that Saudi fans celebrated through the night throughout the Kingdom, slaughtering hundreds of cattle to manifest their joy. Moreover, the Saudi team received a heroes' welcome upon its return even after it was beaten by the Brazilian team by an unprecedented 8-2. Still more disturbing was the reaction of the Egyptian fans who found some relief in the victory of the Brazilians over the Saudis. The Egyptian popular saying goes as follows: "I stand with my brother against my cousin, and with my cousin against the stranger". But in football, Arab fans stand with strangers against any fellow Arab team.
Where does all this leave us? Certainly with a humbling experience from which we should learn what needs to be reformed and critically appraised in our own institutions. The superiority of some of these institutions remains to this day, but it needs to be critically examined and compared with world standards if it is to endure. More importantly, it should leave us with an urge to learn more about our Arab neighbours -- beyond employment and football -- and about the true things that make us, after all, one people. Arab unity and cooperation are more needed now than ever, but if policy-makers ignore true feelings on the ground, they will remain nothing more than empty slogans.