Black cloud

By Salama A Salama

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The government and the ruling party have yet to condemn the assault on Abdel-Halim Qandil, editor-in-chief of the Nasserist newspaper Al-Arabi, let alone commit themselves to finding the culprits and bringing them to justice. If it continues in this manner the regime itself will be viewed as an accessory to crime.

Qandil was snatched from a street near his house, beaten and then left naked in the desert. The nature of the crime indicates that invisible, politically-motivated hands are at work. The incident was not the first of its kind. Several such attacks have been staged in the past, most notably that targeting Gamal Badawi when he was editor-in-chief of Al- Wafd.

The articles Qandil wrote about power bequest, constitutional amendment and the Interior Ministry's handling of the Taba bombing were frank and courageous. Such frankness and courage appears to have earned Qandil many enemies among those who believe that journalists should not display anything beyond adulation for their masters. Indeed, as he was being beaten, the word "masters" was used repeatedly by Qandil's assailants.

In the present century, in Egypt, it is difficult to tell quite who are the masters, and who the serfs. In ancient times this did not happen -- the Pharaohs may have been deified, but they never treated the nation as a personal fiefdom. The master-serf division did not surface until the Mameluke era.

The attack against Qandil proves to those who had lingering doubts that clandestine centres of power still operate in this country, and are still prepared to harm not just Egypt and its status but the political regime itself. These centres of power are a black cloud on the national horizon, polluting any talk of new thinking, of the rights of citizens or political reform.

The attack represents a grave setback for democracy, for the law and constitution, and for freedom of opinion and expression. How can the public be expected to believe the rhetoric they are daily fed when such crimes are committed?

The assault on Qandil shows that some forces within the state continue to believe that repression and violence are the best way to conduct the nation's affairs. These forces contribute to the climate of violence that pervades Egypt and that leads to acts of terror such as those in Sinai.

When tolerance ebbs, repression and violence come to dominate thought and creativity, and extremism receives a boost. As a result attempts at renewal are thwarted. Creativity in art, drama, and other intellectual pursuits, is nipped in the bud.

The same fanatical and despotic tendencies lie behind the charges of blasphemy and heresy levelled at scriptwriter Osama Anwar Okasha, who also had the audacity to challenge the masters. Speaking on a television show Okasha upheld the right of writers to dramatise the political views of Egypt's Muslim conqueror Amr Ibn Al-As, a seventh-century figure whose policies led to divisions among Muslims.

Do we intend to continue disciplining journalists by physically assaulting them while at the same time mouthing our commitment to democracy and freedom? And if so, how do we expect the fanatics to act when they listen to Okasha's opinion of Amr Ibn Al-As?

With such intolerance, with violence and fanaticism blatantly embraced at the highest levels in the state, it is no surprise that some people denounce Okasha as blasphemous and bay for his blood. It is all part of the degenerate climate in which we exist and it makes me shudder.