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The radical transformations outlined in chapters 9 and 10, from institutions of solidarity to institutions of competition, reflecting a process of transition from a republican to a liberal citizenship discourse, had the effect of extending civil rights and shrinking social rights. The tensions between institutions representing republican, ethno-national, and liberal citizenship conceptions, and sometimes within these institutions as well, we have argued, were clearly demonstrated in the allocation of rights to Israeli citizens according to their group affiliations. Whereas in the Yishuv and Israel's early decades the tensions between republican and ethno-national rights were the most pronounced, beginning with the 1967 war, and more clearly in the 1990s, the ethno-nationalist and liberal conceptions have been the ones more frequently pitted against each other. And whereas in the past the intensity of the struggle was muted, due to the prominence of republican citizenship, which served as the hegemonic mediating center around which other rights were grouped in a single incorporation regime, now the struggle is more open and institutions offering alternative approaches are locked in open conflict with one another.
Inequality and the new wage structure
In Marshall's memorable words, social rights “mean the whole range from the right to a modicum of economic welfare and security to the right to share to the full in the social heritage and to live the life of a civilized being according to the standards prevailing in the society.
Ian Lustick has listed three conditions as necessary in order “to overthrow an established ideologically hegemonic conception or explain its breakdown”:
– A severe contradiction between the conception advanced as hegemonic and the stubborn realities it purports to describe;
– An appropriately fashioned alternative interpretation of political real ity capable of reorganizing competition to the advantage of particular groups;
– Dedicated political-ideological entrepreneurs who can operate successfully where fundamental assumptions of political life have been thrown open to question, and who see better opportunities in competition over basic “rules of the game” than in competition for marginal advantage 123–4)
So far in this book we have shown how the republican citizenship discourse had been confronted with greater and greater difficulties in trying to balance the “stubborn realities” of Israel's hierarchical and “sticky” incorporation regime with the democratic aspects of its government. We have also described the two competing conceptions vying to take the place of the republican discourse as the hegemonic conception – the ethno-national and liberal discourses – and the groups that stood to gain from a redefinition of the rules of the game in one or the other direction. In this chapter we provide a glimpse into the sense of malaise that came to afflict important sections of the veteran Ashkenazi elite, the main bearer and beneficiary of the republican discourse, and then focus on the political entrepreneurs who have been, or sought to be, the agents of change in a liberal direction.
One of the main aims of the focus on secular-oriented groups in this work was balancing the increased interest in Islamist constituencies evident in much of the recent writings in Middle East scholarship by providing a fuller picture of contemporary political actors in Egypt. The heterogeneity of secular women activists constituted a consistent theme and was tackled from various angles, as I will briefly summarize in this conclusion.
Throughout this book I have tried to show that any analysis of the tensions and controversies within the contemporary Egyptian women's movement needs to address the wider political culture in which these debates take place. The emergence and evolution of the groups Al-Marʾa Al-Gedida and Maʿan, for example, illustrates quite vividly some unresolved issues, particularly the more general conundrums and tensions in the political left in Egypt. The crisis of the left after the disintegration of the Soviet Union and the increased appeal of Islamist groups among the popular classes has evoked a variety of responses, and often puts women activists on the defensive.
The growing influence of Islamist constituencies has certainly left its mark on Egyptian political culture, where the discursive framework is dominated by Islamist agendas. At a point when the political left no longer seems to provide a viable alternative, many issues formerly taken up by the left, such as social justice and national independence, have been incorporated into Islamist rhetoric.
The airport anecdote of my previous chapter is of broader relevance to my research: rather than merely being a metaphor for contradictions in post-colonial Egypt and states of liminality inherent in identity constructions, the airport is also the gatekeeper of the nation state. Procedures of regulating arrivals and departures, visa requirements and stamped passports, scrutinizing and questioning by airport officials and computerized personal files are all manifestations of government regulations and state power. But how do women activists in Egypt ‘travel’ within and through ‘networks of contested power relations’ (Rai & Lievesley, 1996: 1), usually referred to as ‘the state’? To what extent have women's groups and organizations maintained their independence from the state? And, conversely: to what extent did the Egyptian state (and various constituencies within it) manage to co-opt the women's movement?
These questions need to be tackled historically since the role of the Egyptian state and its relationship to women's activism has varied a great deal during the periods of Nasser, Sadat and Mubarak. In this chapter I would like to explore the relationship between changing state policies and women's activism. I will focus particularly on the way women activists today interpret various historical phases and transformations of the women's movement in relation to the state.
The contemporary situation of women in Egypt – who are at the centre of and are reacting to apparently contradictory discourses and interests – is emblematic of tensions and dilemmas characteristic of many post-colonial societies. Inherent in the power struggles and conflicts within these societies are fierce debates about modernization, its relation to westernization and contestations of ‘authentic’ national culture and traditions. Recent writings within the broad and diverse field of post-colonial studies have documented political contestations linked to processes of decolonization and state-building. They have particularly pointed to the emergence of powerful local elites which tend to reproduce unequal relationships between classes, gender and religious groups (Chatterjee, 1993; Hall, 1996a; hooks, 1990; Kandiyoti, 1991, 1995; Maiello, 1996; Prakash, 1995; Rattansi, 1997; Said, 1993; Spivak, 1988). Caught between the pursuit of modernization, attempts at liberalization, a pervasive nationalist rhetoric of ‘authenticity’ and ongoing imperialist encroachments, women are often the focus of conflicting and ambiguous interests.
In the Egyptian context, growing Islamist currents have further limited the discursive horizon of the debates and the choices available to women. This holds particularly true for those who are actively engaged in contesting existing gender relations and various forms of inequality and injustice within the hegemonic narrative of ‘the Nation’. Egyptian women activists, whose efforts have been historically rooted in nationalism and the struggle against colonial powers, have inevitably run the risk of being stigmatized as anti-nationalist and anti-religious.
If individual experiences as well as broader political developments result in different entry points into the women's movement, questions about content and form of activism have to be asked. What do secular-oriented women activists in contemporary Egypt want? Do they all strive towards the same goals? How do they translate their priorities into action? What actions do they engage in? And how effective are they?
These were the questions on my mind when I interviewed women activists, read their publications and participated in their activities. On several occasions, when I actually put those questions forward, accounts of women activists' own goals and projects included references to the activities of other groups, often signalling, if not explicitly stating, criticism or disapproval. Some objected to the degree of research-oriented work and described it as being removed from ‘real concerns and issues’. Others criticized service-oriented groups for their apolitical approach. In other words, there appear to be incommensurable differences among groups concerning the content and form of women's activism in Egypt today. Or, as I will try to inquire, could these incompatibilities actually be exaggerated by the women activists themselves? Is there a tendency to turn a blind eye to commonalities and grounds for alliance and stress differences instead?
In this chapter I shall first examine the stated goals and priorities of the various groups and individual activists I interviewed.
Yes, it's painful to talk about it. Every time I do talk about it, it leaves me devastated. Every time, I had to pull myself together. Every time, I had to wonder: did this really happen to me? Is it the present me to whom all that happened? And finally: what is the real link between the ‘I now’ and my ‘I’ in the past? My ‘I now’ will tell the story, that is herstory. Not only am I telling it for your research, but also for the sake of the ‘I now’. The ‘I’ has to get rid of it, once and for all. I have to say it now, imbued with all my biases and personal drives. I don't promise you it's going to be objective; it's going to be very subjective. You'll have to struggle with it to come out with some logical conclusions and scientific results. Indeed, this is what your research requires: logicality, historicity and, most important, objectivity. They are the three rivets of the male phallocentric culture. Yes, you'll have to struggle, because it will be irrational, ahistorical and illogical.
(Samia E.)
Sitting cross-legged on the bed of Samia E., sipping the Nescafé she made every time I came to visit her, smoking her cigarettes, looking at all the old newspapers stacked up and all the books lying around, I often forgot about the actual ‘purpose’ of these meetings.
In Egypt – as in many other post-colonial societies – contestations of identity and authenticity are part and parcel of complex processes of self-definition. Sometimes these contestations take an explicitly political form and are articulated as anti-imperialist positions. This is the case in the debate about foreign funding of local research and development activities, for example, which, in the view of some political actors, is a form of external meddling and interference. As mentioned earlier, the debates about foreign funding have to be set in the context of Egypt being the single largest recipient of aid from the United States after Israel. Moreover, foreign aid ranges from bilateral and multilateral projects to the funding of specific projects at ‘the grassroots’ by various international funding agencies. Perceptions about international organizations and the value given to international conferences must also be considered in the light of struggles for political independence and especially the rejection of increasing American influence.
However, at other times, debates about identity and authenticity are formulated less in political than in cultural terms. This tendency becomes noticeable in the controversy about the cultural frame of reference for Egyptian women's activism. In chapter 4 I addressed the role of religion as cultural marker with regard to authenticity and identity. At this point I shall concentrate mainly on the dispute about the universality versus specificity of women's rights and the ‘culturalization’ of many political debates.