“A satisfactory leadership indeed, given what it faced in suppression,” said Psamtek III.
“You could well have savored a voluptuous life,” said the Sage Ptahhotep, “and high rank common to men of your wealthy class. But you left all that entirely and chose struggle and agony for the sake of Egypt. You are a great man indeed …”
“Tell me how a leader abandons his country in a time of disaster, to fight for it in a foreign land?” demanded Abnum.
“They planned to put us in prison,” said Muhammad Farid.
“But the leader of the just cause knows that he is made for imprisonment or death,” insisted Abnum, “not for waging his jihad abroad.”
“Jihad outside the homeland had been a part of our nationalist strategy since the days of Mustafa Kamil.”
“That was accepted as an auxiliary element to help complete the original mission inside the country,” Abnum corrected him. “But for you and the rest of the leadership to leave your party with no actual leaders in your absence was anything but brave or wise behavior. The fact is, you were notables that I would have put to death in my own revolution without any mercy. You loved being patriotic leaders as well as the respect and position that this had brought you. Yet you couldn’t deal with real struggle—and the detention, torture, or death that comes along with it. Instead, you ditched your duty when things got rough, in order to conduct a nice, safe holy war abroad. Doing so, you became responsible for the weakness and division that afflicted the nationalist movement.
“And so I was staggered by your surprise that a revolution had flared up among the people, though at the same time amazed at your lofty feelings of victimhood when they chose a leader other than you. You seem to have viewed the leadership as an inherited birthright that passes within your class like money and land—even after you’ve fled the field of battle.”
“You’re repeating what our enemies used to say!” exclaimed Muhammad Farid.
“I do not deny your patriotism,” admitted Abnum. “But your love of Egypt was entwined with your deep-set contempt for the Egyptians. The feeling of loyalty to a nominal identity never left you, while inevitably your life turned to tragedy, because the leader of the people had to be of the people—one marked by human greatness, not aristocratic grandeur.”
“As for me,” spoke up Isis, “I see him as one of the best of my sons, in character, sincerity, and national feeling. Nothing more could be asked of him, considering the circumstances of his birth and upbringing.”
“From us, you have a certificate backed by esteem and affection,” Osiris promised Muhammad Farid. “Go to your final trial with our sincerest good wishes for a fortuitous verdict.”
60
HORUS HAILED, “Saad Zaghloul!”
A towering, strongly favored, strikingly compelling, and awe-inspiring man entered the room. He kept on walking until he stood before the throne.
Osiris invited him to speak.
“I was born in Ibyana,” he began, “and studied at al-Azhar as a pupil of Jamal al-Din al-Afghani. I worked as an editor at al-Waqai al-misriya, under the direction and tutelage of Muhammad Abduh. I joined the Urabists during their uprising, and at the start of the British occupation, I was jailed for belonging to the Vengeance Association. Leaving my job, I practiced law then became a judge. Later I was chosen as education minister, and after that, minister of justice.
“At the end of the First World War, with the declaration of the Armistice, I became the leader of the nationalist movement. I carried this out on the strength of the indivisible patriotic unity between Muslims and Christians, proclaiming Egypt’s right to liberty and independence. The British authorities arrested me, and exiled me to the island of Malta. No sooner was this news broadcast than the people revolted in protest at my deportation, demanding an end to foreign rule. As a result, England was forced to set me free.
“I then traveled with the Wafd’s delegation to Paris to present our case to the peace conference there, but its doors were shut in our faces. We entered into negotiations with Britain, but nothing came of them. Then the Wafd split internally, and I returned to Egypt. Afterward I was exiled a second time, this time to the Seychelles Islands in the Indian Ocean. They did not release me until 1923.
“Following that, I served as prime minister after winning the popular elections in 1924. I went right into negotiations with Britain again, which promptly failed. Then, after the assassination of one of the English commanders, I was forced to step down.
“The political parties arrayed themselves in harmony against the king’s dictatorship, and I became speaker of the People’s Assembly, leaving the premiership to the Liberal Constitutionalists. Talks with the British began once again—but I departed the world before knowing their outcome.”
“I undertook the first popular revolution,” boasted Abnum, “at the end of the Old Kingdom, and, after thousands of years, you started the second one. You are my brother and my dear friend.”
“There is a difference between the two revolutions that we must keep in mind,” cautioned Khufu. “Abnum’s revolt was by the common folk against the cream of society, while Saad Zaghloul’s revolution pitted all of Egypt’s people, rich and poor alike, against the alien occupation.”
“I think that wealthy people are not fond of revolution,” opined Abnum.
“From the first, I was eager to preserve our unity,” said Saad Zaghloul, “for strength is indispensable when facing the enemy. Yet I became convinced that the rich hated the revolution more than the occupation.”
“You should have got rid of them,” Abnum upbraided him.
“They broke away from me,” answered Saad Zaghloul, “plotting their own path to independence that matched their point of view.”
“But you united the Egyptians, just as I unified their kingdom,” said Menes to Zaghloul. “For that reason, you are my comrade and my successor, as well.”
“Regardless of the leadership you showed after the revolution,” commented Imhotep, vizier to King Djoser, “you consented to work in government before the revolution, in the shadow of the occupation, without joining the National Party. How do you explain this?”
“The National Party advocated fantastical ideals,” Saad replied. “One could not negotiate until after the withdrawal of foreign forces from the country. That would mean that the occupation would last forever. Another was to refuse to take public office while the British dominated these positions. Yet in my opinion, it wasn’t enough to demand a particular kind of behavior from people. What you demand must be practical for general application, without prejudice or indifference to their needs. Mustafa Kamil was able to boycott government appointment because the khedive was providing him and others with money, while Muhammad Farid could do the same due to his vast private holdings. But what could the party’s followers do? If they obeyed their leaders, they would go bankrupt, and if they deviated, they would be forced to betray their pact. How could one preach a lofty principle that people would find so difficult to live up to, that would instill such feelings of guilt in them? And how could you leave the public postings to foreigners?
“I accepted official life as an instrument of resistance in service to the nation, which needed it most urgently. My adversaries admitted this before my friends did.”
Here Osiris interrupted, admonishing all assembled, “For those who would like to read it, this leader’s deeds are written in the record. But here in this court, we will discuss only actions of a fateful nature.”
Then he interrogated Saad Zaghloul directly, “Your enemies claim that the revolution took place while you were in exile, and that you did nothing to instigate it yourself. Rather, you were astonished that it happened, as though it had taken you by surprise. What do you say to that?”
“The country was in a state of despair,” answered Zaghloul. “I admit that I was caught off guard when the revolution began, just as the man who had been leader before me, Muhammad Farid, was too. Yet I did not refrain from pre
paring the atmosphere for it with speeches on all possible occasions, and in meeting with people in my house, in the countryside and in the cities, urging them to support my position, filling them with patriotic feeling. Moreover, the revolution erupted in reaction to my exile, and so my person provided the spark that ignited it.”
“Such a critical position usually demands a particular type of behavior,” declared Abnum. “The effective leader is the one who is able to serve as the model for such action. The situation here demanded sacrifice, for that is the most that an unarmed people can put up against an overwhelming power. When Saad confronted the enemy and they forced him into exile, he set the desired example, and the people followed it by launching the revolution. What testifies to Saad’s greatness is that he accepted this sacrifice while despairing of any revolution to protect or defend him—and his sacrifice was total. Noble bravery, when there was no hope for any kind for survival. If he had had hope for the revolution, then his grandeur would be lesser in the degree of his enormous self-denial.”
“Some also say,” Osiris continued, “that the bias in your leadership drove the intellectuals from being supporters of you into breaking away from you. How do you answer that?”
“In truth, I lived only for the revolution: I believed in it completely. Through it I discovered my cherished goal, which I had sought for all my life. As for the intellectuals, they hated and feared the revolution, contenting themselves with spurious solutions. They had money, experience, and sophistication, but their patriotism was impure, just as their faith in the people was lacking.”
“Some of your followers felt that you should have remained as head of the revolution,” Osiris reminded him, “rather than accepting the post of prime minister.”
“My premiership was an extension of the revolution at the cabinet level,” Zaghloul asserted.
“I think it would have been better if you had considered the view of these supporters,” Abnum insisted.
“May the gods bless this great and righteous son,” beamed Isis, “who has proved that Egypt’s people possess a strength that cannot be vanquished, nor ever die.”
“You are the first Egyptian to rule the country since the age of the pharaohs,” said Osiris, “and you did so by the will of the people. For this reason, I grant you the right to sit among the Immortals, who are your forebears, until the end of this trial. Then may you go in peace to your proper proceeding, bearing our commendation, and our sincerest good wishes.”
And so Saad Zaghloul took his place among the Imperishable Ones in the Hall of Sacred Justice.
61
HORUS HERALDED, “Mustafa al-Nahhas!”
A firmly framed man who was not quite tall walked onward until he stood before the throne.
Osiris asked him to address the court.
“I was born to a poor family in the Delta town of Samanud,” said Mustafa al-Nahhas. “With intensive effort, I completed my education. Due to my outstanding performance, I was appointed a judge and learned justice and righteousness. I joined the Nationalist Party, with whose president I had been a student colleague in the Khedivial College. And when the Wafd formed under the leadership of Saad Zaghloul, he chose me as a member—and I was banished with him to the Seychelles in 1921. I took part in his populist revolutionary cabinet, and when he died, I was elected chief of the Wafd.
“I bore the burden of the struggle on the path to independence and a democratic life for a quarter of a century. I was prime minister seven times, resigning six times due to differences with the English and the king. In 1936, under the pressure of the threat of a world war, I accepted a coalition with the other parties, reaching a pact with the British, who recognized the independence of Egypt and promised the withdrawal of their troops in 1956.
“The Second World War broke out during a period of arbitrary royal rule in Egypt. The king was accused of making contact with the enemies of the English, and a grave political crisis erupted, as the British contemplated removing the monarch. I put myself forward to save the nation and the throne, and created a ministry under the most arduous conditions. And when the war ended and the English were victorious, I planned to demand their immediate withdrawal—but the king discharged me. He returned to his absolutism, and things went from bad to worse, until he was compelled to agree to a popular referendum, and I came back as prime minister in 1950.
“I then negotiated with the British over their withdrawal, but meeting no response, I abrogated the treaty of 1936 and declared that they must depart. My enemies inside and outside the country plotted against me, and the king was able to be done with me. With the 1952 Revolution, I was forced to quit politics, until eventually I passed away.”
“Those present would like to know some of your accomplishments while you served as prime minister,” said Osiris.
“Though the people were not in power for more than eight years, in contrast with eighteen years of autocratic rule by the king and the minority parties,” replied Mustafa al-Nahhas, “and despite what they suffered in repression, and the repeated attempts to assassinate me, God permitted me to render not a few services to our country. Among these were the repeal of the foreign capitulations, the abolition of the Religion Fund, the establishment of the Arab League, the independence of the judiciary and the national university, the civil service law, the ban on foreigners owning agricultural land, the first compensation for on-the-job injuries and mandatory insurance against them, the recognition of labor unions, the requirement that foreign companies use the Arabic language, the social insurance program, the creation of the general accounting office, and free primary, secondary, and intermediary education.”
“Welcome to the third revolutionary leader in the history of our people,” lauded Abnum. “He extended his power through his faith in his people and his God. His life was poisoned by prolonged struggle and strife. He lived a poor man, and died one as well.”
“Please accept my love, O leader,” said Akhenaten. “You are like me, who was completely identified with the belief in the One God, and devotion to the pure principles. You are like me also in your love of the people’s humbleness, and in your mixing with them without any sign of arrogance or condescension. And like me, you were subjected to the enmity of the scoundrels and the worshipers of power, and the prisoners of self-interest, both living and dead. And you are like me in that you were fortunate to experience of the ecstasy of victory, and also tested by way of rejection and defeat. But be glad—for in the end, the victory is ours!”
“This is a decent man,” declared Isis, “one of our most righteous sons.”
“I grant you the right to sit among the Immortals until the end of this proceeding,” decided Osiris. “Then you may go to your final trial, bearing with you our most generous commendation.”
62
HORUS CALLED OUT, “Gamal Abdel Nasser!”
A tall man entered; his features were strong and his personality powerful. He continued to stride forward until he stood before the throne.
Osiris asked him to state his case.
“I come from the village of Beni Murr, in the districts around Asyut,” Abdel Nasser said proudly. “I was raised in a poor family, from the popular classes, and endured the bitterness and hardships of life. I graduated from the War College in 1938, and took part in Wafdist demonstrations. I was besieged along with the others at Falluja in 1949. The loss of Palestine dismayed me, but what disturbed me even more was the depth of the defeat’s roots inside the homeland.
“Then it dawned on me that I should transfer the fight to within, where the real enemies of the nation were hiding in ambush. Cautiously and in secret, I formed the Free Officers’ organization. I watched as events unfolded, waiting for the right moment to swoop down upon the regime in power. I realized my objective in 1952, then the Revolution’s achievements—such as the abolition of the monarchical system, the completion of the total withdrawal of British troops from the country, the breaking up of the big landed estates through the law of
agricultural reform, the Egyptianization of the economy, and the planning for the comprehensive revamping of both farming and industry to benefit the people and to dissolve the divisions between the classes—came one after another. We erected the High Dam while creating the public sector on the path to building socialism. We built a powerful, modern army. We spread the call for Arab unity. We assisted every Arab and African revolution. We nationalized the Suez Canal. In all this we were a beacon and a model for the entire Third World in its struggle against foreign colonialism and domestic exploitation. In my time of rule, working people enjoyed strength and power not known to them before. For the first time, the way was made for them to enter the legislative assemblies and the universities as well, when they could feel that the land was their land and the country their country.
“But the imperialist forces lay waiting to spring upon me—and then the detestable defeat of June 5, 1967 descended upon me. The great work was shaken to its foundations, and I was doomed to what seemed like death three years before I actually expired. I lived a sincere Egyptian Arab, and died an Egyptian Arab martyr,” Abdel Nasser ended his opening statement.
“Allow me to convey to you my vast love and admiration,” gushed Ramesses II. “What is my affection for you but an extension of my love for myself? For look how much we resemble each other. Both of us radiate a greatness that filled up our own country till it spilt over her borders. Both of us fashioned a surpassing victory from a defeat, while neither of us was satisfied with his own glorious accomplishments, raiding the deeds of our predecessors as well. To my good fortune, I sat on the throne of Egypt when she was supreme among nations, while you ruled when she was a tiny band of believers straggling amongst titans. The God bestowed strength of spirit and body upon me through all my long life, while begrudging you but a little of these things, hastening your demise before your time.”