Sectarian Conflict in Egypt: Coptic Media, Identity and Representation 9781136313653, 1136313656

Table of contents :
Front Cover
Sectarian Conflict in Egypt
Copyright Page
Contents
Acknowledgements
Introduction
PART I Copts, Copticness and the Egyptian media
1 The contemporary Coptic community: Between the state and the Church
Meanings of ‘Copt’ and ‘Copticness’
Contemporary challenges
2 The Egyptian press in national political life
The early Egyptian press
The press after the 1952 revolution: a shrinking of the public space
The press and politics: controlling the flow of information
Copts on the national front page
Conclusion
3 Coptic online spaces: The impact of the Internet on Copticpolitics
Crossing more red lines: the Internet effect
Virtual Copticness: constructing Coptic networksonline
The function of online Coptic media: minority orparticularistic?
Connecting the national and the virtual
Conclusion
PART II Copts and national representation in the Mubarak–Shenouda era
4 The Coptic Orthodox Church as a media andpolitical actor
The emergence of the Church as a social and political actor
The Church as a national institution: relations with the state
Church management of a Coptic communicative space
The Church, Internet and the diaspora: a challenge to Church authority or broadening its support base?
Conclusion
5 Discoursing national belonging: National unity versus sectarianism
History, collective memory and constructing national unity
Discourses of displacement and forgetting
Implications of the minority label for belonging and national Egyptian identity
Shifting the boundary of ‘us’ and ‘them’
Al-Mowatana: rebranding national unity
Conclusion
PART III Challenging regimes of representation
6 Resisting Church leadership through media: Dissent and legitimacy 2005–10
Dissenting discourses and sustaining Church legitimacy
Strategies for presenting and undermining resistance discourses
Discourses of resistance online
The diaspora: space for resistance?
Conclusion
7 Revolution and political crisis: Shifting discourses and relations of power
Re-contesting normalized discourses of Coptic Church authority
Cracks in the Church–state pact
The Church and the revolution
A Church–SCAF pact?
The Church and Coptic protests
Conclusion
8 Copts, sectarianism and citizenship in post-25 January Egypt
State media, sectarianism and Coptic protests
Constructing citizenship and the civil state: prospects and challenges
Prospects for citizenship and Coptic inclusion beyond the transition
Conclusion
Notes
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

Sectarian Conflict in Egypt

In light of the Egyptian uprising in early 2011, understanding the dynamics that are shaping Egyptian politics and society is more crucial than ever as Egypt seeks to redefine itself after the Mubarak era. One of the most controversial debates concerns the place of religion in Egypt’s political future. This book examines the escalation in religious violence in Egypt since 2005 and the public discourses behind it, revealing some of the complex negotiations that lie behind contestations of citizenship, Muslim– Christian relations and national unity. Focusing on Egypt’s largest religious minority group, the Coptic Orthodox Christians, this book explores how national, ethnic and religious expressions of identity are interwoven in the narratives and usage of the press and Internet. In doing so it offers insights into some of Egypt’s contemporary social and political challenges, and recognizes the ways that media are involved in constructing and reflecting formations of identity politics. The author examines in depth the processes through which identity and belonging are negotiated via media discourses within the wider framework of changing political realities in Egypt. Using a combination of methodological approaches – including comprehensive surveys and content analysis – the research offers a fresh perspective on the politics of identity in Egypt. Elizabeth Iskander is a research fellow at the German Institute for Global and Area Studies and a visiting fellow at the Middle East Centre at the London School of Economics and Political Science. She holds a PhD in Politics and International Studies from the University of Cambridge. Her research focuses on Arabic media, conflict prevention, language, power and identity, and politics and religion in the Middle East.

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35 Arab Minority Nationalism in Israel The politics of indigeneity Amal Jamal

43 Sectarian Conflict in Egypt Coptic media, identity and representation Elizabeth Iskander

Sectarian Conflict in Egypt Coptic media, identity and representation

Elizabeth Iskander

First published 2012 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 711 Third Ave, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2012 Elizabeth Iskander The right of Elizabeth Iskander to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Iskander, Elizabeth Sectarian conflict in Egypt : Coptic media, identity, and representation / Elizabeth Iskander. p. cm. – (Routledge studies in Middle Eastern politics ; 43) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Coptic Church–History–21st century. 2. Egypt–Church history–21st century. 3. Christianity and politics–Egypt. 4. Church and state–Egypt. 5. Religion and state–Egypt. 6. Egypt–Religion. I. Title. BX134.E3I85 2012 281'.7209051–dc23 2011046369 ISBN 978-0-415-69578-7 (hbk) ISBN 978-0-203-11920-4 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Taylor & Francis Books

‘A long habit of not thinking a thing wrong, gives it a superficial appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defense of custom. But the tumult soon subsides. Time makes more converts than reason.’ Thomas Paine, Common Sense

Contents

Acknowledgements Introduction

xii 1

PART I

Copts, Copticness and the Egyptian media 1

The contemporary Coptic community: between the state and the Church Meanings of ‘Copt’ and ‘Copticness’ 11 Contemporary challenges 17

2

The Egyptian press in national political life The early Egyptian press 23 The press after the 1952 revolution: a shrinking of the public space 28 The press and politics: controlling the flow of information 35 Copts on the national front page 40 Conclusion 44

3

Coptic online spaces: the impact of the Internet on Coptic politics Crossing more red lines: the Internet effect 47 Virtual Copticness: constructing Coptic networks online 48 The function of online Coptic media: minority or particularistic? 56 Connecting the national and the virtual 64 Conclusion 67

9

11

22

46

x

Contents

PART II

Copts and national representation in the Mubarak–Shenouda era 4

5

The Coptic Orthodox Church as a media and political actor The emergence of the Church as a social and political actor 73 The Church as a national institution: relations with the state 77 Church management of a Coptic communicative space 86 The Church, Internet and the diaspora: a challenge to Church authority or broadening its support base? 91 Conclusion 95 Discoursing national belonging: national unity versus sectarianism History, collective memory and constructing national unity 97 Discourses of displacement and forgetting 100 Implications of the minority label for belonging and national Egyptian identity 105 Shifting the boundary of ‘us’ and ‘them’ 109 Al-Mowatana: rebranding national unity 116 Conclusion 120

71

73

97

PART III

Challenging regimes of representation 6

7

Resisting Church leadership through media: dissent and legitimacy 2005–10 Dissenting discourses and sustaining Church legitimacy 127 Strategies for presenting and undermining resistance discourses 132 Discourses of resistance online 137 The diaspora: space for resistance? 143 Conclusion 150 Revolution and political crisis: shifting discourses and relations of power Re-contesting normalized discourses of Coptic Church authority 152 Cracks in the Church–state pact 156 The Church and the revolution 162

123

125

152

Contents A Church–SCAF pact? 166 The Church and Coptic protests Conclusion 169 8

xi

168

Copts, sectarianism and citizenship in post-25 January Egypt State media, sectarianism and Coptic protests 172 Constructing citizenship and the civil state: prospects and challenges 177 Prospects for citizenship and Coptic inclusion beyond the transition 185

171

Conclusion

188

Notes Bibliography Index

192 196 222

Acknowledgements

I owe thanks to a good number of family members, friends and colleagues but my mum Sandra, sister Lucy and dad Edward deserve an extra special mention for their continual support. Also Amy Rowe, Chris Southgate, Sarah Coxhill, Erin Snider and Regina Sachers for their friendship and encouragement during my PhD studies, as well as Glen Rangwala for supervising my thesis and Maha Abdelrahman and Fiona McCallum for their invaluable feedback on my work. I would also like to express my gratitude to my mentor at LSE, Kim Hutchings, for her wisdom and care and to the Dinam Charity for the David Davies of Llandinum Fellowship in international relations, which enabled me to complete this book. Finally, I would like to dedicate this book to two people. To the memory of my grandmother Vera, who inspired my intellectual curiosity and determination at an early age. Also to my husband Mina, who gave me the strength and laughter I needed to write this book.

Introduction

Media, religion and identity in Egypt On 25 January 2011, an 18-day protest period began and riveted the world’s attention on downtown Cairo’s Tahrir Square. It ended with the resignation of Mohamed Hosni Mubarak, who had been Egypt’s president for 30 years. One of the most positive scenes to emerge was the display of unity among Egypt’s various religious communities. The concerted efforts to maintain national unity during the uprising was demonstrated by the popular slogan ‘Muslim, Christian, we are all Egyptian’. On placards and in interviews, many demonstrators felt that it was important to vocalize the message that they were demonstrating as Egyptians and not as Muslims or Christians or Baha’is and so on. Although absolutely necessary to Egypt’s future, this almost self-conscious display of Muslim–Christian unity came just weeks after the bombing of a church in Alexandria and was quickly followed by the burning down of a church in Atfeeh on 4 March. In the first months after the uprising, a number of churches were burned down, including two in the Imbaba district of Cairo on 7 May 2011. Frustrations over the increased frequency of these attacks and the failure of the Government to address the concerns of Copts culminated in the gross violence perpetrated by the army against the mainly Coptic protesters on 9 October 2011 in the Maspero area of Cairo. This series of events gives some sense of the complexity and depth of the challenge that Egypt faces if it is to support a society that is not simply tolerant of the other but also inclusive of the other. This is a challenge that spans generations and one that must be addressed if Egypt is to complete a genuine transition to a democratic political system that privileges social justice. The period upon which much of this book focuses its discussion in Parts II and III is 2005–10. This period is neatly framed by developments in both the media scene and also in Muslim–Christian relations in Egypt and it sets the scene for the dramatic developments of 2011 that are the subject of Part 3. The severe clashes between Muslims and Christians that took place in Alexandria in 2005 contributed to a shift in the media coverage of Egyptian Christians and also of communal violence. Tensions rose

2

Introduction

after copies of a play performed at St George’s Church were circulated. The play chronicled the conversion of a Copt to Islam and his subsequent decision to return to Christianity. This led to demonstrations outside the church protesting against the content of the play, even though it had actually been performed two years prior to this. As well as the large protests, property was destroyed and a nun was stabbed in the street. This incident occurred after a period of relative liberalization of politics and the media between 2001 and 2005 (Shehata, 2010: 138). Although there were no real changes to media policies, independent media took a step forward in 2004 with the establishment of new independent newspapers. This, along with the expanding access to new media channels, served to push the boundaries of the red lines that bind media content in Egypt. One of the issues that opened up for discussion as a result of the Alexandria incident and the pressure of independent media was that of sectarian violence. The following five years then heralded an interesting period within which to trace the trajectory of Coptic media discourses, particularly in terms of how state media and Coptic media reacted to these shifts. Shortly after the Alexandria incident, the 2005 parliamentary elections were held, in which the Muslim Brotherhood attained a now infamous victory by winning around one-fifth of the seats. This was another pivotal event that shaped the way in which the state and the Coptic Church went on to develop the Church–state relationship and also to manage Muslim–Copt relations and national unity narratives. While the progress engendered by independent media and new media channels could not be entirely reversed, both the Church and the state made efforts to remain the leading authorities in constructing media discourses. The anxiety to maintain control over media and an acknowledgement of its impact was clear in the lead up to the 2010 parliamentary elections as independent media came under heightened pressure and restriction from the state. Church–state relations were also severely tested in late 2010 over the issues of church-building and the conversion of women from Christianity to Islam. Fissures began to form and the bombing of an Alexandrian church shortly after midnight on New Year’s Eve presented a major challenge for the Church in maintaining their control over sectarian tensions. All this was overtaken by the 25 January revolution but was not erased. The dynamics of Muslim–Copt relations and how they are managed by the Church and state are part and parcel of Egypt’s transition post-Mubarak because this underlies the discussions concerning Egypt’s future as a civil state and how the concept of civil state is understood and implemented. This is related to the place of religion in the political system. While questions related to the role of religion in politics are often discussed from the perspective of Islamic thought and political Islam, this book focuses on Egypt’s largest religious minority group, the Coptic Orthodox Christians. This is important because as Sedra (2009: 1049) and Robson (2011: 312) point out, there is a gap in the literature examining the history

Introduction

3

and politics of the modern Coptic Church and community. Through an examination of media content, the objective is to reveal the complex negotiations that lay behind contestations of citizenship, Muslim–Christian relations and national unity narratives by pointing to the multiple identities that are at play. The diversity is often hidden by employing categories such as Muslim, Copt, religious and secular to describe the narratives, yet these labels belie the interwoven discourses of national, ethnic and religious expressions of identity. This complexity can lead to the construction of counterproductive narratives that reinforce inequalities and difference rather than overcoming difference and promoting inclusion of the diversity of Egypt’s heritage. The media acts as a channel to represent and disseminate such discourses. Moreover, it acts as a site of cultural production and, increasingly, as a platform for political dialogue and mobilization through developments in electronic communications technology. This communicative space enables meanings and representations to circulate and interact with socio-political processes (Talbot, 2007: 3–5). Each chapter of this book builds up a sense of the layers of discourses that are woven into and emerge from relations of power and the understandings of identity that are at work in relations among Copts and vis-à-vis their Church and national leaderships. This book also recognizes the ways that media are involved in constructing and reflecting formations of identity politics by examining in depth the processes through which identity and belonging are negotiated via media discourses within the wider framework of changing political realities in Egypt. The press and the Internet are the two media institutions examined; the former because the press has a long tradition in Egyptian political life and the latter because of the new dynamic it introduces into the Egyptian media landscape. Since the main concern is how notions of Coptic and Egyptian identity and belonging operate in the media, the focus is on the content analysis of media texts. As one of the prominent institutions operating in the shared public space, media texts can offer a valuable insight into social processes (Abu-Lughod, 2005). Yet the concern here is not with analysing language in isolation but rather with analysing the objectives and effects of the language in media discourse on setting up relationships of belonging and hierarchies of power. The conceptual framework for the following chapters draws on several themes. One of the main concerns is who has the legitimacy to construct authentic discourses of belonging and how they are upheld using the media. Foucault presents an understanding of the power of language through constructing knowledge (1995). But Bourdieu focuses more specifically on symbolic power, which rests on what is not explicitly said and requires the complicity of those over which symbolic capital is claimed. In seeking to explore the hierarchies emerging from the language of media discourses related to Coptic belonging, it is necessary to go beyond simple language analysis to establish whether or not Coptic media gives its

4

Introduction

producers power. This necessitates an analysis of the way language is used, by whom, for what purpose and why it is interpreted in a particular way by the audience. For Bourdieu, doxa – meaning that which is accepted as normal and beyond contestation within a certain community – is a form of symbolic power. But it has this power due to the legitimacy it receives from those who are actually subject to it (1989; 1991; 1999). Bourdieu uses doxa to refer to what we know and adhere to without being consciously aware of it because it is no longer a subject of discursive struggle, though it may previously have been a site of conflict. Doxa is not neutral because, ‘It reflects the interests of dominant groups, whose rise to dominance has enabled their views and interest to achieve a taken-for-granted status, beyond opinion and beyond question’ (Crossley and Roberts, 2004: 101). It is part of the formation of socialized norms, which Bourdieu terms ‘habitus’. Notably, habitus is formed via a social process through an interplay of actors and events over time. The shifting nature of habitus with time and events opens up for discussion the issue of challenges or resistance to the symbolic capital of Coptic media and its producers; especially in times of crisis for the Church or the nation. It contributes to an analysis of the modus operandi of Coptic media, as well as the interpretation of it in relation to doxa. This affords an approach that does not privilege the media producer or the medium itself, but seeks to discuss the media as a site of cultural practice for Copts in particular and Egyptians in general. This framework allows the interaction between discourse, the context, internal hierarchies and relations of power between the community and state to be described. The media is approached both as a communicative tool and also as a space within which habitus is communicated and generated, necessitating a holistic discussion of the social and political structures and relations of the Coptic community as an inseparable element of the discourse analysis. Therefore I draw on Van Dijk’s (1998) emphasis on discourse as action that is used strategically and with which language users engage as members of social categories and identities. Discourse is treated as a series of relationships of power with the aim of deconstructing the processes of power politics that underlie them and their impact on Egypt’s political context. The tools used to achieve this are based on Van Dijk and Fairclough’s frameworks for understanding how and why the media is a tool to normalize ideology because their emphasis is on the relationship between media and context. This is why media discourse should be not be examined simply as a product of relations of power, but also as a space which both emerges from, and in turn shapes, the local context (Fairclough, 2001: 4). This is what gives discourse the potential to shape, affirm or contest socio-political experience. Thus, as Geertz (1973) explains, ‘thick description’ is necessary to describe not only the practice, discourse or behaviour but also the context in which it takes place, in order for it to be meaningful for the outsider. For this reason the following discussion rests not only on from analysis of

Introduction

5

the content of media discourses but also on qualitative and quantitative data obtained through a combination of interviews, questionnaires and participant-observation. This is crucial, because assuming an a priori understanding of what is religious and what is not, would not give sufficient room for understanding the diversity in contemporary Coptic or Egyptian identity. Two questionnaires, one directed at those using online Coptic media and the other at Coptic media producers, served as a useful comparative device and reduced bias because the intended aim in producing media can differ from the way it is actually interpreted and used (Thompson, 1995). This is underlined by Hall’s (1980) model of encoding and decoding, which shows that we cannot assume that texts mean the same to producers and audience. The questionnaires were produced in both Arabic and English to minimize barriers to participation and contained a mixture of open and closed questions. As a result, they provided material for quantitative analysis and authentic subjective responses for qualitative interpretation (Silverman, 2001: 87). In addition, Kendall (1999: 57) particularly recommends the use of participantobservation in researching interactive online forums since it contributes to an understanding of the meaning given to participation in the media. The ability to access and observe the offline environment also provided information on the interaction between online and offline processes. Using this data, this book will point to the implications that the discourses of Coptic belonging, distributed by increasingly powerful and far-reaching media, have consequences for the social and political relations of Copts with the state, the Coptic diaspora and with the Coptic Church. This has wider implications for national unity and Egyptian society and politics, as Copts are an integral and indigenous element of Egyptian society. This book suggests that the increase in Coptic visibility in the national press not only reveals the dynamics underlying the inclusion of Copts but also the role of the Egyptian press in general and the challenges faced by Egypt as a whole. One of the main themes to emerge from the questionnaires, interviews and content analysis, was that of belonging. The politics of belonging and construction of boundaries between groups are related to issues of power. Yuval-Davies et al. (2006: 1) describe how social, political and moral perspectives are involved in naturalizing ideologies and fixing boundaries and relate this to the promotion of defending and promoting hierarchies of power. Understanding these layers of belonging and their interactions from the standpoint of Egyptian Copts reveals a fresh perspective on the impact of religious identity in debates of national belonging in Egypt, which tend to focus on political Islam. To explore the ways in which Copts are voicing objectives and constructing/re-constructing themselves using various competing or complementary discourses of belonging, three overarching research questions will be considered. First, what are the competing Coptic discourses of belonging in media produced by and about Copts? Second, how are these discourses negotiated in the

6

Introduction

media, by whom and what does this reveal about relations of power within the Coptic community? Third, what are the implications of these discourses for the future of the Coptic community, particularly in terms of socio-political inclusion in Egyptian society, taking into account the issue of sectarian tensions and the concern with enshrining a culture of equal citizenship rights? These questions have become still more urgent in the aftermath of the 25 January 2011 revolt. While the symbolic exclusion of an identity group from national media can result in isolation of that group, and thus resentment (Madianou, 2005), inclusion in the shared social space is not always positive if this inclusion takes the form of negative representation of the ‘other’ in the media. In an extreme example of the influence of the press contributing to inter-group tensions, according to scholars (Price and Thompson, 2002; Michalski and Gow, 2007) negative representations and manipulation of images in the media can contribute to prolonging the conflict. In a climate of inter-group conflict, the way in which the media portrays members of each group can have a significant impact on the length and severity of social tensions. This was illustrated graphically in the incitement broadcast by state media television during the outbreak of violence between the army and mainly Coptic protesters on 9 October 2011. Therefore, this research is timely because it will contribute to the current debate over the causes of, and the ways to prevent, an escalation of sectarian conflict between Muslims and Copts, which is often perceived and discussed in the Egyptian media in terms of belonging and national unity. Belonging is negotiated both vis-à-vis Copticness and Egyptianness but the aim is not to explore emotional aspects of the impulse to belong. Rather it is to take a perspective that explores belonging as ‘an idea or discourse’ (Davis, 1999: 25). This is explained through the examination of what contributes to its construction, the context in which it is formed and reformed, as well as the socio-political objectives behind its construction. Yuval-Davis et al. (2006: 3) write that, ‘Citizenships and identities, as well as “cultures and traditions’ – in fact all signifiers of borders and boundaries play central roles in discourses of the politics of belonging’. In light of the debate on the realization of a culture of equal citizenship, the fact that ideas of belonging appear to be the significant theme in media related to Copts has the potential to reveal much about the current socio-political climate in Egypt. Using these questions as a basis, this book examines the context in which Coptic discourses develop and the dynamics of current national debates on Egyptian citizenship and national identity. Copts, in Egyptian national unity discourse, are one of the two elements that make up the nation; Muslim Egyptians being the other element. Thus it is crucial to understand how religious and national identities interact in the lived experience of belonging to the Egyptian nation. The conclusions of this book keep returning to the same point; the status of the Copts and the grievances they face are inextricably linked to the state of the national

Introduction

7

socio-political environment. The solutions to Coptic grievances can only be found in a genuine transition to a democratic and inclusive Egypt. At the same time, this transition cannot be honestly actualized without building a social and political culture that is not only tolerant but also inclusive of all citizens, regardless of religion.

Part I

Copts, Copticness and the Egyptian media

1

The contemporary Coptic community Between the state and the Church

Boundaries play a role in the politics of belonging, but discourses of belonging also construct and deconstruct boundaries and thus the relationships built within and between them. Barth (1969) points to the behaviour of ethnic groups in defining and maintaining themselves as different by emphasizing a boundary line, outside which ‘others’ exist. This raises the question whether Copts maintain a boundary of difference and, if so, for what purposes and who has the authority to construct any boundaries. It cannot simply be assumed that relations of inclusion and exclusion, or us and them, are a one-way construction that is shaped only by the majority or the dominant group seeking to enclose an ‘other’ within a certain category. As Ibrahim argues, the Copts are not a monolithic group that can be defined simply as a beleaguered minority in relation to its Muslim Egyptian counterparts (2011: 5–6). In mass media in general, the construct of community is often treated as a monolithic bloc. It is necessary to challenge this and avoid essentializing because community and identity are experienced at multiple levels and are continually negotiated phenomena. People belong to multiple groups and negotiate these memberships at both the individual and the collective level (Baumann, 1996: 17). To avoid the reification of community as a fixed entity, this chapter will unpack some of the elements that form part of the complexity of what I will call Copticness. As Sedra (2009) argues, this will enable the literature on the modern Coptic Church and community to move beyond a view of Copts as victims or symbols.

Meanings of ‘Copt’ and ‘Copticness’ First of all, it is essential to outline what the word ‘Copt’ signifies in order to situate the Coptic community and ensure that the following analysis is not abstract, but is grounded in the social and political realities in which members of this community negotiate and experience their identity as Coptic. The word ‘Copt’ is derived from ‘Aigyptos’, which is the Greek word for Egypt (Watson, 2000: 7). From Aigyptos, the Arabs used ‘Qibti’ to mean Egyptian, which is anglicized as Copt. The Copts probably make up approximately 10 per cent of the Egyptian population (Hasan, 2003: 18).

12

Contemporary Coptic community

Accurate figures are unavailable and, while the government estimates that Copts make up around 6 per cent of the population, some church sources claim the proportion is between 15 and 20 per cent. After the initial Arab invasion of Egypt in 639 AD, Egypt was gradually transformed from a majority Christian to a majority Muslim country. As well as an Islamization process, Egypt also underwent an Arabization process. At first, non-Arab converts to Islam were seen as inferior to Arab Muslims and, to overcome this, the Mawali system was introduced in order that non-Arab Muslims could be ‘adopted’ by an Arab tribe. In this way non-Arab converts were integrated into Arab culture and adopted its ethnicity (cf. Cragg, 1992). Additionally, those who converted or who conducted business with the Arab rulers began to learn Arabic, which became the official language of Egypt in the eighth century (Tagher, 1998: 85). Consequently, Arabic gradually replaced the Coptic language so that the latter is now only used for parts of the Coptic Orthodox liturgy and worship and is no longer widely understood, even among Copts. Although it is not agreed how long this displacement took, it is generally believed to have occurred around the ninth century (Wakin, 1963). As a result of these intertwined processes, those who converted to Islam came to identify themselves as Arab, whereas those who remained Christian continued to identify themselves as Coptic. So a term which simply meant Egyptian at first is now virtually synonymous with membership of the Coptic Orthodox Church, illustrating the way meanings can be (re)constructed, appropriated and negotiated. The Coptic Orthodox Church is the largest Christian denomination in Egypt and it acts as a national Egyptian church. Copts also represent the largest Christian community in the Middle East region. The Coptic Church was officially established after the schism between the churches that accepted the outcome of the Council of Chalcedon in 451 AD and those that rejected it. There are also Coptic catholic and Coptic evangelical churches as a result of Western missionary activities in Egypt, mainly during the nineteenth century (Watson, 2000: 8–9). There are further denominations such as Episcopal, Greek Orthodox and Armenian Orthodox, which do not normally use the term ‘Coptic’ to describe their church. Because Orthodox Copts form the vast majority of the Christian population of Egypt, this research inevitably studies this particular community and, unless otherwise specified, the discussion will be focused on this group. This denomination also has an intimate role in constructing ideas of Copticness because of the link between the Coptic Orthodox Church and Coptic nationalism. Many Copts have some sense that they are the ‘original’ Egyptians, direct descendants of the ancient Egyptians and, therefore, articulate a very strong attachment to the land of Egypt and its history, as well as to the deep-rooted Egyptian Christian heritage. Egypt was a major centre for the development of early Christianity and the influential writings of the Desert Fathers, numerous Egyptian saints and distinctive art, provide Copts with a rich

Contemporary Coptic community

13

heritage to draw upon, as well as a sense of being part of an ancient community that has been pivotal to the development and spread of the Christian faith. Therefore, for Copts, the collective memory and history of their community is tied both to their religious practice and to the territory of Egypt (Van Doorn-Harder and Vogt, 1997: 127). In addition to this heritage, the Coptic Church sees itself as a historically persecuted church, the collective memory of which perhaps contributes to the tendency of the Church to act as a refuge for Copts even today. Consequently, stories that celebrate survival are common and repeated as though they are recent events. For example, during a visit to a Coptic Church in the Maadi area of Cairo, a story was related to me about how Copts had avoided attacks during the Roman era by using a tunnel that connected this church to another on the other side of the river Nile in order to escape. The narrator related the story as if it were a recent event and formed part of his broader explanation of his life as a Copt in Egypt. Oram-Edwards (2004: 139–40) made a similar observation about such stories acting as part of the collective consciousness of Copts. During her fieldwork she was told many stories which emphasized Coptic solidarity and survival. They included examples of how Copts had worked together to build or repair churches quickly and in secret in order to avoid being prevented from doing so. These examples were presented as a continuation of the stories of the early church that underline the ability of the Copts to survive by sticking together. Such narratives reinforce the importance of solidarity and loyalty within the community and to the Church because it is this that has enabled the community to survive, despite the schism with the wider church, and despite its being located in what is now generically known as the Muslim world. The most significant period of persecution was under Roman authority and took place around 284 AD during the rule of Diocletian. This period is known to Copts as the ‘age of the martyrs’, and Copts start their calendar (which is based on the ancient Egyptian solar calendar) from the day Diocletian came to power, 29 August 284 AD. This is an example of the merging of ancient Egyptian heritage with the history and heritage of the Christians in Egypt and the Coptic Church. This period also marks the beginning of the emergence of an Egyptian church as distinct from the official Byzantine church (Watson, 2000: 24–33). The early Church established in Egypt was what is now known as the Greek Orthodox or in Arabic as Keniset al-Rum al-Orthodox. In fact, Egyptian names do not begin to appear in the lists of bishops of the Church in Egypt until the late second century (Tellyrides, 2009: 14). Because many Egyptians considered the early church establishment as foreign and part of the Byzantine Empire, church authority was not entirely accepted by Egyptian Christians (Tagher, 1998: 1). Although, in Alexandria, the Hellenic and Egyptian civilizations did merge through the Christian faith, this process took considerable time and

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Contemporary Coptic community

the situation in Alexandria was not representative of Egypt as a whole. The first major collision between Hellenism and ‘Egyptianness’ was when the second Ecumenical Council, held in 381 AD, decided to designate Constantinople as second in primacy after Rome, instead of Alexandria (Schaff, 1995: 161). By the end of the fourth century, Egyptians in Upper Egypt had started to develop their own religious and cultural style which they began to introduce into the church hierarchy. Tellyrides (2009: 18) explains the cultural deviation that emerged as the development of a distinctive national community that grew into the Coptic Church, with its adherents the Copts. From this point on, this community began to increasingly define itself by underscoring the difference between the Coptic Church and Egyptian culture on the one hand and the Orthodox Church and Greek civilization on the other. Clearly, then, Copticness was not simply a religious identity. Because the Church sought to define itself culturally as well as religiously, the priest became a leader with both civil and religious authority. Dioscorus, an Egyptian who became the Patriarch of Alexandria in 444 AD said, ‘This country “Egypt” belongs to me more than the emperors and I request Sovereignty over it’ (Tagher, 1998: 3). The main figure in this nationalist movement, who is in fact known as the father of Coptic nationalism, was a monk from Sohag called Shenouda. He led a radical stream in Egypt that rejected any reconciliation between the Alexandrian and Antiochian schools of theology on the basis of promoting Coptic nationalism and sovereignty. Today, the monk Shenouda remains a symbol of Coptic nationalism and this name is often adopted by those with a concern to promote Copticness and the Copts as a distinct people. One example is Pope Shenouda III, who popularized the term al-Sha’ab al-Qibti, meaning the Coptic people (al-Manawi, 2005: 192). A second example is Shenouda Maher, a priest who called for the revival of the ancient (that is pre-Hellenic influenced) accent of the Coptic language and of Copticness as a nationalist identity. His emphasis on Coptic nationalism caused problems with the state and so the Church sent him to America, where he established a monastery also named after the monk Shenouda. The schism between the Coptic Church and the rest of Christendom was compounded by the dispute at Chalcedon in 451 AD. On the surface it appeared to be a theological disagreement but, in reality, it was also very much to do with the power politics of the time (Tagher, 1998: 3) and the emergence of a Coptic national consciousness. Atiya (1968: 56–58) describes Alexandria’s split from the Byzantine church as a way of gaining Egyptian political independence from Constantinople. However, it is perhaps more accurate to describe the split as a consequence of Alexandria’s repeated attempts to regain supremacy as a centre for Christianity. It does seem certain that both the longstanding rivalry between Alexandria and Constantinople and the growth of Coptic nationalism contributed to the outcome of the Council of Chalcedon. After the schism, the loyalty of the Egyptian people was gradually transferred to the Coptic Patriarch

Contemporary Coptic community

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and, in later years, all the attempts of Byzantine emperors to effect a reconciliation with Egypt failed. Subsequently, the Coptic Church isolated itself still further and took on greater social and political functions in Egypt. This isolation from the rest of the Christian world was further compounded by the Arab conquests that saw Egypt come under Arab and Islamic rule after 639 AD (Betts, 1979: 115). Although Egypt has been under Arab Muslim rule since the seventh century and adopted Arab culture and language in the first few centuries of this period, when the development of national unity narratives was taking place at the beginning of the twentieth century Fanous Akhnoukh, writing in the newspaper Misr, pointed to Copts specifically as the inheritors of ancient Egyptian civilization. One of his suggestions included the revival of the Coptic language (Hegazy, 2000: 259). The tendency for the Coptic diaspora to privilege a national identity linked to pre-Arab/Islamic Egypt was also noted by Botros (2006). Her findings on the historical narratives of the Coptic Church and community describe how Copts draw on a narrative of the miracle of the survival of the Coptic Church and their ancient Egyptian heritage. It is naturally very difficult to distinguish between the socio-political and religious discourse of a group partly defined by its religious affiliation and partly by an ethnic heritage, and attempts at categorization can be somewhat arbitrary. Indeed, even the use of term ‘Coptic community’ presents a challenge of interpretation and evokes various reactions (Scott, 2010: 65). The term ‘Coptic community’ is used throughout this book, not to imply that there is one interpretation but to acknowledge that, though imperfect, this is a category that is used in speech in Egypt with numerous implications for social and political life, broadly speaking. The need to understand that discourses referring to a separate Coptic ethnicity could potentially complicate and hinder discourses of belonging was highlighted in statements by Anba Beshoy in September 2010. In an interview with al-Masry al-Youm newspaper, he suggested that Muslim Egyptians are the guests of the Copts who are the original inhabitants of Egypt. This provoked a heated exchange across different media channels. Most vocal in his criticism of Beshoy was Mohamed Selim al-Awwa, a wellknown Muslim thinker, lawyer and, after the 25 January revolt, a presidential candidate. Pope Shenouda attempted to mediate the situation by countering this, saying that in fact Copts are the guests of Muslims because Egypt is a Muslim majority country (Arabian Business, 26 September 2010). Such statements clearly feed into debates and interpretations of the meaning of Egyptian national identity, citizenship and also relations of power between Egyptians on the basis of religion. It also points to dangerous underlying ideas of who belongs and who does not and that such a distinction is being made among Egyptian citizens on the basis of religious belonging. Ideas of identity related to categories of ethnicity or racial heritage have also been part of debates concerning Egyptian identity. Therefore they

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are relevant to the theme of this book. Makari (2007: 14) argues that the movements of Egyptianism, Mediterraneanism, pan-Arabism and panIslamism all informed debates concerning where Egypt belonged culturally in the first half of the twentieth century. He argues that, ‘Theoretical paradigms dealing with ethnicity and ethnic relations can inform an examination of relations between Egypt’s Christians and Muslims’. The Egyptianism stream related national identity primarily to Egypt’s ancient civilization and was one of the key movements highlighting Egyptian national identity in the early 1900s. Both Muslims and Christians were among supporters of this movement. Around this time, Coptic intellectual and founder of the Coptic museum, Markus Semeika, was promoting the idea that all Egyptians are Copts; some being Muslim Copts and others being Christian Copts. Semeika and others emphasized that all Egyptians are descended from the Ancient Egyptians (Hasan, 2003: 41–42). However, after the 1952 revolution and with Nasser’s focus on panArabism, the Arab element of Egyptian identity came to dominate. There were also Islamic overtones to Nasser’s Arab nationalism (Scott, 2010: 40–42). This may have led to the sense among some Copts that a focus on Arab identity overshadows the Pharoanic heritage in Egyptian heritage (Reid, 1996: 291; Makari, 2007: 61). As a result, although Middle Eastern Christians were pioneers of the Arabism movement, in Egypt some Copts reacted to this shift by taking refuge in an interpretation of Egyptian identity in which Copts are ‘purer’ descendants of the ancient Egyptians and in which Islam does not emerge as the dominant faith. Once again this hints at the complexity of overlapping interpretations of identity between elements of ethnicity, national identity and religion. While the argument that Copts are always more closely related to ancient Egyptians is flawed and historically inaccurate (McCallum, 2010: 74), its existence as a narrative should be acknowledged as it arose in the content analysis of new media and through the surveys conducted for this book. An example of a practical way that Coptic as ethnicity is being experienced by Copts in the diaspora is illustrated by a Facebook campaign called 2010 US Census: I am ‘Coptic’.1 The information page states: For the 2010 Census, ALL Copts will fill check the box next to ‘Other’ under Ethnicity and write in the word ‘Coptic’. This is to indicate our ethnicity, NOT our religion. Therefore, regardless of faith, all Coptic people should check the box next to ‘Other’ and write in the word ‘Coptic’. **Please spread the word and ensure that all Copts unite under their ethnicity in order to become a recognized minority by our government. This example must be put in perspective, however. This campaign is one launched among Copts in the diaspora, specifically in the USA and not Egypt. In that context, the Muslim–Christian differentiation is less useful in

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distinguishing Copticness and designating its boundaries between this diaspora community and others. Still, as the Coptic diaspora community grows, the new dynamics introduced by these multiple centres for connection and negotiations of community identities will have an increasing impact on constructions of Copticness. This brief overview indicates that not only has the Coptic community an identity rooted spiritually in a rich and ancient religious tradition but also that the understanding of the meaning of ‘Copt’ is intertwined with a national identity based on belonging to a specific territory, an ancient civilization and a national church that has a tradition of acting as a social and political institution, as well as a spiritual guide. This social and political context, in addition to the observations made during my analysis of Egyptian and Coptic media, gave shape to this research project as one that seeks to explore overlapping constructions of ‘belonging’, flowing around national, religious and transnational connections. This book aims to describe how different levels of belonging, as experienced by Copts and expressed through the media, reflect the construction of their social and political position as Egyptians in the modern world vis-à-vis the Egyptian state and the Church. This contributes to broader contemporary debates over Egyptian national identity, inter-faith relations and the experience of Copticness and its place in modern Egyptian social and political life.

Contemporary challenges Ibrahim notes that there has been a tendency in literature to represent Copts as, ‘being eternally in resistance to persecuting forces’ (2011: 7). There is also a tendency to represent Copts as a single bloc and unified actor in Egyptian history and politics. While it is the objective of this book to uncover the layers of discourses, it is crucial to analyse why narratives that appear to dominate have tended to represent the Copts as both a religious and socio-political bloc. Setting out some of the challenges that face Copts in engaging in Egyptian national life will help to explain why particular constructions of a Coptic community appear to dominate. This will lead on to the later discussion of why Copticness, and its relationship to Egyptianness, can be disputed. It is noteworthy that such disputes or negotiations are part of national debates rather than internal challenges facing the Copts alone. A further point of note is that the debates and challenges of the so-called al-Malaf al-Qibti, the Coptic file, have developed over a long period of time and usually with high visibility within the national public sphere. It cannot be denied that many Copts perceive that they face discrimination on the basis of religion in one or more spheres of society and to varying degrees. Among the most commonly cited forms of discrimination are those in employment, particularly in high-profile public positions, and also in certain areas of law, such as church building and religious conversion. Copts officially raised a list of grievances at the Coptic congress in Assiut

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in March 1911. Interestingly, the Pope at that time, Kyrilos V, called for the cancellation of the congress to avoid provoking tensions. This did not prevent the meeting from going ahead against the Patriarch’s advice (Mikhail, 1991: 25–27). The congress produced a list of four main grievances. The first was that Sunday is not a day of rest for Christians in Egypt. Second, the issue of discrimination against Christians in the civil service, particularly in the top government jobs, was raised. At the time, government jobs were highly sought after as a guarantee of financial stability and prestige (cf. Amin, 2000). The third grievance was the underrepresentation of Copts in political bodies. The fourth grievance concerned distribution of taxes and schools. There was a sense that, while Copts pay taxes that are used to fund educational establishments that Copts cannot enter, public funds are not used for Christian schools. The congress suggested that government grants should instead be bestowed on ‘deserving institutions’ regardless of religion. In response to the Coptic congress, a Muslim congress was held the following month in which the Coptic grievances were rejected. There were four main outcomes. First, that Islam should be the official religion of Egypt. Second, it was affirmed that the Coptic demands should not be met. Third, government schools should not teach Christianity and, finally, Islamic educational establishments, such as kuttabs, should remain open to Muslims only, despite Coptic taxes contributing to them. Neither the Coptic nor the Muslim congress had any official status. Nevertheless, the outcomes of these congresses and the debates that ensued have echoes in the ongoing discussion and analysis of modern media debates on Coptic belonging and the relations between Copts and Muslims and between the Coptic community and the state. Interestingly, during the Coptic congress in Assiut, an executive committee was elected to ‘act on behalf of the Copts’ (Mikhail, 1991: 30) and one question that remains is, who represents the Copts, if indeed they need specialized representation. The need for Coptic political representation remains a disputed issue today and the advantages and disadvantages of a Coptic quota in parliament are still being debated. When Egypt first gained independence from Britain in 1922, a clause guaranteeing Copts seats in parliament was rejected as unnecessary as a result of the high proportion of Copts involved in the Wafd Party and Coptic confidence in secular liberal politics (Hasan, 2003: 39). This has changed, and Coptic political representation is now a major challenge for the state. After the Free Officers revolution in July 1952, no Coptic candidates were elected, forcing the introduction of an appointments system to ensure at least a token Coptic presence in parliament (Soliman, 2006). This problem has persisted and only one Coptic candidate was elected in 2005 (Shahine, 2005). The accusations of discrimination raised in Assiut can still be seen as shaping the Coptic socio-political experience today. Some Copts complain that religious discrimination prevents them from obtaining promotion

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to top-level positions in the civil service, the army and in universities (Meindarus, 1999: 75). The issues of Sunday as a holiday and fair distribution of taxation both stem from a sense that Copts are not equal partners in the state and that the state prioritizes the interests of Muslims. This perception of exclusion or deficient belonging is today expressed more regularly in criticism of laws on conversion and building places of worship that treat citizens differently on the basis of religion. This explains why these two issues are often at the centre of communal violence. Until 2005, presidential permission was required to build or repair a church. This was amended by Decree 291 of 2005 in an attempt to simplify the licensing process by delegating the authority to grant licences to each Egyptian governorate. However, Rowe points to a continuing reluctance to grant licences, which raised questions over the implementation of this Decree (Rowe, 2007: 339). Such licences, if issued at all, took a considerable time to obtain. It is this issue that indicated that a rift had emerged between Church authorities and the state in late 2010. Demonstrations by Copts began on 24 November in Omraneya in the Giza distract on the outskirts of Cairo when permission to construct a church was refused. Much of the frustration at this decision stems from a sense of discrimination because mosques do not require construction permits and there are actually incentives that encourage the building of new mosques. This problem is not simply a question of legislation. There is often opposition from the local Muslim population. Rowe notes that a redrafting of laws pertaining to church building in the 1930s added ten conditions. Most significant among them is a consideration of any objections among the local Muslim population to the building of a new church (2007: 337). Because of the legal obstacles, Copts often repaired or converted existing buildings into churches without permission. These actions were not usually opposed by the state but rather it was the local community that attempted to halt construction by force. In fact, church construction is one of the key issues that have incited violence against Copts in recent years. Riots in Udayasaat in January 2006, in Bemha in May 2007 and in Ain Shams in November 2008, all began with attacks on buildings that local residents believed were being used as unlicensed churches. The same dynamic was behind the Coptic protests in October 2011 after the attack on a church in the village of Merinab near Edfu in the governorate of Aswan. This, of course, led eventually to the violent clash between the army and protesters on 9 October 2011. This background explains why the question of a new law governing the construction of places of worship emerged as one the major Coptic demands after 25 January 2011. The problem of church building is not a new one. The most frequently cited incident of sectarian violence in Egypt, which took place in al-Khanka in November 1972 is thought to have started for similar reasons. A conflict began when objections were made to a private building being used as a chapel. The chapel was burned down and shops and other Coptic-owned

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Contemporary Coptic community

properties were subsequently vandalized. Attempting to alter this climate is complex. In May 2011, the then Prime Minister Essam Sharaf announced a list of churches that had been closed without reason and would be re-opened. As of July 2011 this intention has not been implemented. Shortly after the announcement, an attempt was made to open an extension for the Virgin Mary Church in Ain Shams, Cairo, which had been on Sharaf ’s list. The move was met with local resistance and the church was surrounded by protesters described in the media coverage on 19 May as ‘Islamists’. The church was closed again indefinitely on 21 May after a reconciliation meeting was held between priests and sheikhs, sponsored by the Supreme Council for the Armed Forces’ (SCAF’s) representatives. The move by Sharaf had emerged in response to Coptic protests against the attack on two churches in Imbaba on 7 May. The Imbaba incident was not sparked by tensions over the construction of churches but over arguably the most controversial issue that affects Muslim–Christian communal tensions; namely, conversion. Egyptians who wish to convert to Islam can file a paper to reflect the change of religion in their legal and personal documents, such as the compulsory ID card. There is no such process available for Muslims who wish to convert to another faith. While apostasy from Islam is not officially a crime, both legal and cultural pressures have prevented any facilitation of this process. In recent years, there have been two high-profile cases of Muslim converts, Mohamed al-Hegazy and Maher al-Gowhary, who have attempted to challenge the courts in order to obtain the right to be issued with ID cards reflecting the change of their religion from Islam to Christianity. Both cases were unsuccessful and both plaintiffs had to go into hiding after receiving deaths threats for leaving Islam. In the case of the Imbaba incident, anger was incited by rumours that a Christian woman who had converted to Islam was being held against her will inside one of the Imbaba churches. The siege of this church began within hours of a television appearance by Camilia Shehata. Shehata, the wife of a priest, raised communal tensions after leaving her husband and allegedly converting to Islam in July 2010. Mirroring the 2004 case of Wafa Costantine (also a wife of a priest who, after marital disputes, left the family home and allegedly converted), the state security services located and transferred Shehata to the Church authorities. In spite of protests outside mosques in Cairo, which were growing in size by September 2010 she remained at an undisclosed location. After the level of anger and calls by protesters for the Church to release Shehata so that she might practise Islam grew to unprecedented levels, she appeared on camera to deny her conversion. Protesters were not convinced. In the space opened up to them after the resignation of Mubarak, Islamist groups established an organization known as the Coalition for Supporting New Muslims. Shehata remained the focus for this group’s campaigns and threats against the Church until she appeared on television again on 7 May 2011.

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These brief examples illustrate how areas of tension challenge the experience of belonging in three overarching ways: belonging in terms of political representation; belonging in terms of equality before law, without reference to religious affiliation; and belonging in, and having access to, the Egyptian national public space. This explains why Article 2 of the Egyptian constitution is often a focus for controversy and tensions regarding the nature of the civil state in Egypt and the place of non-Muslims within it. In Article 2, not only is Islam the official religion of the Egyptian state but, after the 1980 amendments to the 1971 constitution, Islamic law became the principal source for legislation and not simply a source. This led to a surge of cases brought to the Supreme Constitutional Court (SCC) by Islamists to challenge what they viewed as secular laws. According to Moustafa (2009: 107), at least 215 cases were brought to the SCC between 1979 and 1990 in an attempt to ‘challenge what they [Islamist activists] believed to be the secular foundations of the state’. This opened a channel to contest the nation’s legal culture. The debates concerning this article will be discussed in more detail in later chapters, but they are indicative of the complexities that shape political institutions and culture in Egypt and shape the experience and understanding of Egyptian identity and society for all citizens.

2

The Egyptian press in national political life

Egyptian politician and academic Mustafa el-Feki (1991: 35) wrote that, ‘Any attempt to discuss the critical period in Muslim–Coptic relations between 1908–11, should include the role of the Coptic press’. Because Egypt is currently facing another critical period in Muslim–Copt relations, it is equally important to look at Coptic media today. One of the first steps in understanding the interaction of Copts with the press and national political culture is to begin to identify the main actors in Egyptian media, with the purpose of building up a picture of the dominant discourses of Copticness and the context in which they operate. As Billig (1995: 108) writes, ‘Utterances are not merely produced by contexts, but they also renew those contexts’. To trace how a media ecology is constructed and why it has taken a particular form, it is useful to present an historical overview of the development of the press sector (Khamis, 2011: 1159) with particular reference to how Coptic media actors have participated in this process. This will begin to explore the extent of the visibility of Copts and Coptic issues in the history of Egyptian media and to analyse the ways in which Coptic and Egyptian media emerged and developed in response to each other and to social and political conditions. This will set out a framework for deconstructing the relationship between media and identity as the basis for media analysis (Matar, 2007: 120). The final question for analysis is how press content on Coptic issues and Muslim–Coptic relations has changed or remained the same. Before tracing the development of the press it is necessary to distinguish between Egyptian media and Coptic media. In this research the category of national Egyptian media encompasses media that is produced for the general national consumption of all Egyptians, whereas the category of Coptic media is specifically for the consumption of a section of Egyptian society, broadly defined as Copts and understood as Egyptian Christians belonging to the Coptic Orthodox Church. The intended identity of the audience is significant, because journalists tend to produce content for an unknown ideal audience that possesses the cultural knowledge with which to correctly interpret the intended implicit and explicit meanings of the content (Bourdieu, 1999). I label this as Coptic rather than Christian because Coptic

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describes not only a specific religious denomination, but also a heritage that is national and social, so Coptic media is not necessarily religious in content or purpose. In the discussion regarding the development of the Egyptian press it is necessary to include also a third category, which I will label national Coptic press. This describes the newspapers owned by Copts, which were part of the mainstream Egyptian press and highlighted national issues as well as Coptic issues, directed at a national audience but with a mandate to offer a Coptic perspective. It should be noted that, despite my use of the generic term ‘Coptic media’, Coptic media has never presented just one face. As this book unfolds, the diversity of Coptic media, its forms, producers and audiences will be revealed, along with the implications for power relations and belonging within the Coptic community and in the Egyptian public sphere.

The early Egyptian press The first Egyptian printing press arrived in 1821 and the printing of the first Egyptian newspaper, al-Waqa’i, took place in December 1828. Several other publications were established in the first half of the nineteenth century and all were state publications that served to promote government policies and reinforce existing authority structures. The press really began to flourish in Egypt under the rule of Ismail (1863–79). He went a step further by permitting the establishment of private papers and his encouragement opened up and expanded the uses of printing, which he believed would be beneficial to modernization (al-Sheikh, 1977: 4–5). Several papers were established at this time but all were strongly pro-Ismail and supportive of the government. It was also during this period that the Coptic Church’s interest in the potential of the press grew and the second printing press was introduced into Egypt by Pope Kyrilos IV around 1860. It soon became known as the Coptic Community Press because it printed spiritual materials directed at Coptic worshippers. So, from the beginning, two of the key actors in the development of printed media were the state and the Church. Private independent newspapers faced a number of barriers in accessing the means to produce printed media. These included wealth, education, location, technology and government policies. These issues around access meant that many of the early magazines were printed by Christians due partly to the technology, education and resources brought by foreign missionaries to the Christians of the Middle East. The growth of print media was nurtured and evolved in the Levant region where discourses on religion were common and the media at times acted as a battleground between different denominations. After Muslim communities also began to establish significant newspapers, religious discourses expanded and Muslim– Christian conflicts played out in the pages of the press (Ayalon, 1995: 37). The fact that the emerging press at this time tends to be self-categorized as ‘Muslim’ or ‘Christian’ and seems to be dominated by religious debate, is

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Egyptian press in national political life

not unexpected. This region was part of the Ottoman Empire and local belonging was based on a system that categorized communities into religiopolitical groups known as ‘millets’. The religious leader of each of these millets had a certain amount of autonomous authority over the members of his community and represented it to the Ottoman sultan (Scott, 2010: 8–31). The way in which the press was used in these inter-religious tensions represents the dichotomy that the effectiveness of the press as a tool for exposing and debating social and political conflicts can result in media playing a role in exacerbating tensions. It can lead to the construction of a public space that does not support the acceptance of the ‘other’, in this case the ‘religious other’, by focusing on the boundaries between the identity groups that make up a society. On the other hand, despite the involvement of the press in inter-communal conflicts, print media did also play a role as a significant forum for renaissance in the region, particularly in renewing Arabic language as a modern language with contemporary terminology (Antonius, 1969). It was also a central institution in the movement of Arabism and the Arab nationalist ideology that emerged from this. While some of the early publications appeared to exacerbate sectarian tensions, it was the journals and literary societies pioneered by Levantine Christians, such as Nasif al-Yaziji and Boutros al-Bustani, that opened up a space for debate and resistance and also for the creation of a discourse of belonging based around Arabic language and culture as the basis for a unified public (ibid., 1969: 51). This illustrates the potential of media discourse to divide, for example by religion, and to unite, in this case under the banner of Arab culture and language, as well as the dialectical relationship between media discourse and social practice. Partly as a result of oppressive Ottoman policies regarding the press, such as the promulgation of a printing and publications law in 1857 by the Ottoman authorities to counter the printing explosion, there was a significant emigration of Syrians and Lebanese to Egypt and the Americas between 1860 and 1915, thus shifting the centre of the Arabic press to Egypt, where Ottoman control was far weaker and the idea of the nation state was stronger. This shift led to the establishment of the national Egyptian newspaper that remains the most widely read paper in Egypt today. On 5 August 1876, al-Ahram was first published, initially as a weekly paper, by Syrian Greek Catholics Salim and Bishara Takla. A year later, in 1877, the first national newspaper owned by a Copt, Al-Watan, was published by Mikhail Abd al-Sayid. The majority of newspapers established in Egypt between 1875 and 1882 were privately owned and tended to be critical of the government, the poverty of fellahin and impact of foreign influence in Egypt (al-Sheikh, 1977: 8). In the build-up to the ‘Urabi revolt of 1881 and under the influence of Jamal al-Afghani and his religious reform movement, the press – for example Misr al-Fatat, al-Mufid, al-Mahrusa and al-Burhan – was extremely vocal in its campaign against foreign influence and was able to garner popular support (Kelidar, 1993: 4). This freedom

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of the press soon began to provoke a reaction from the leadership and thus the first Egyptian Publications Law was promulgated in November 1881. Article 13 of this law gave the administrative authorities the power to close down a paper if it violated ‘public order, religion or morals’. Exactly what constituted a violation was left undefined. Despite this law, the Egyptian press was galvanized in its role as a national forum for debate during the period of the British occupation from 1882 until the end of the protectorate in 1922, which was known as the ‘golden age’ of the Egyptian press (al-Sheikh, 1977: 15). This period is also seen as a golden age of Egyptian liberal democracy, Egyptian unity and nationalism and of brotherhood between Copts and Muslims, particularly in the period around the 1919 revolution. The majority of studies on Coptic politics and Muslim–Copt relations tend to focus on this period and it has become a collective national memory and a shared history used in discourses of national unity today in the media, as well as in political discourse. During the British occupation, most notably during the interwar years, Egyptian identity was drawn upon the boundaries of national belonging in juxtaposition with the foreign British occupier. It is this period that witnessed the growth of a distinctive Egyptian nationalism, using the symbology of ‘Pharoahism’ and ‘Egyptianness’ that created a common political ground for Muslims and Copts against both the British and the Ottoman authorities. Ayalon (1995: 42) suggests that this eliminated religious divides. However, the continuation of sectarian discourses in the press at the time suggests that the political rhetoric concerning Egyptian unity did not fully permeate society, despite the success of Coptic participation in the main political party at the time, the Wafd. The Coptic-owned newspapers played a significant role in defending and promoting Coptic identity and rights and participation from the end of the nineteenth century until the mid-twentieth century and acted as a forum to air grievances at the lack of representation of Coptic interests, even by Coptic politicians. In fact, Armbrust identifies the interwar ‘boom in the production of print and audio-visual media’ as a decisive factor in the reshaping of ‘political and religious expression’ that was to have a significant impact on Egyptian cultural production for the remainder of the twentieth century (2009: 156–57). The press during this period can be broadly categorized into pro- and anti-occupation papers. Generally, Christian-owned papers were pro-British, at least at first, in the hope that a foreign and purportedly Christian power would offer more advantages to their co-religionists and give them space to participate more fully in public life. This was also as a result of the panIslamic ideology of the anti-occupation movement under Mustafa Kamel. Pro-British papers included al-Watan, al-Muqtataf, which was published by Syrians Faris Nimr and Yacub Sarruf, and al-Muqatam, published from 1888 by Shahin Makarious in collaboration with Sarruf and Nimr (al-Sheikh, 1977: 13–20). While al-Ahram was sympathetic to the French and thus did not favour the British, al-Watan acted as the main voice for the

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supporters of the British and went from being a weekly paper to being published three times per week in 1886. It was later bought by Guindy Ibrahim who published daily from 1900 until 1924, when he sold it to Amin Barsoum who published it until 1930 (Atta, 2007: 32). Another pro-British paper was Misr, which was first established in 1895 by Tadros Shenouda, a Copt. It was published weekly at first, then daily until 1966. Shenouda wanted Misr to be an effective tool in the political struggle and while at first it supported the British, it later became aligned with the nationalist movement (ibid: 44–47). In contrast, Muslim-owned newspapers al-Liwa’ and al-Mu’ayyad were vocally anti-occupation and supported a pan-Islamic ideology (Ayalon, 1995: 57). Al-Mu’ayyad was established by Ali Yusuf in 1889 in order to counter the dominance of Christian-owned press. Consequently the press increasingly became a battleground between pro- and anti-occupation papers. Al-Liwa’ joined the debate after it was set up by Mustapha Kamel in 1900. Misr was considered to be ‘more fanatic’ than al-Watan and the two newspapers exchanged criticism until they found common ground in the Coptic congress in Assiut in 1911. Both of these newspapers featured exchanges with al-Muayyad and al-Liwa’ on points of theology that compared Islam and Christianity (Ayalon, 1995: 36). Because the division between pro- and anti-occupation newspapers also often represented a divide between Muslim- and Christian-owned newspapers, the debates often used religion to undermine the other (Kelidar, 1993: 7). The newspapers established by Syrians tended to be secular, with no special emphasis on the Christian communities in the region, whereas those run by Copts tended to highlight Coptic issues as well as national ones. This is a pattern that reflects the way the discourses of Coptic media and Coptic leadership generally continues to present Coptic issues not as a separate problem, but as an Egyptian problem that cannot be solved by Copts alone. This underpins the discourse of indivisibility of the fabric of Egyptian society between Copts and Muslims that can be identified in the press in its infancy and traced through until today, for example in the promotion of concepts of citizenship. Al-Watan (homeland) was launched with the primary aim ‘to provide the Coptic minority with an outlet for its communal views and grievances rather than fight a national battle’ (Ayalon, 1995: 45). However, it was also part of the protest movement calling for freedom and greater popular representation in government. Clearly then, the Egyptian press was a lively forum for debating social and political issues during this period, including Muslim–Copt relations and the construction of Egyptian national identity. Atta (2007) highlights the importance of the press as a channel for participation in public life that Copts readily utilized to support the Coptic community, promote Egyptian national interests and defend the Christian faith. The ability to access the press was clearly limited to an educated and wealthy class but it gave the Coptic elite a voice with which to make Coptic issues more prominent in public life, to defend their interests and exercise

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some influence in the shared public space. Although throughout history there are examples of non-Muslims gaining power and influence in Muslim governments, in general there have tended to be limited opportunities for non-Muslims to attain positions that require them to exercise political power over a Muslim. One illustration of this difficulty is the assassination in 1910 of Boutros Ghali, a Christian Prime Minister, and the popular support that his assassin received (Cragg, 1992: 172). Prior to the assassination, Sheikh Abdul Aziz al-Jawish led a press campaign against Boutros Ghali and maligned the Copts in the process, for example printing an article entitled ‘Islam: a stranger in its own home’ (Kelidar, 1993: 12), thus provoking fears of the usurping of Islam and Egypt by ‘the Christians’, a particularly sensitive discourse while the country was occupied by a foreign ‘Christian’ power. In response to articles such as those by al-Jawish, the national Coptic papers responded vociferously to defend their community and the incitement on both sides contributed to the atmosphere in which the assassination took place. Although, as the assassin himself claimed, the motivation for the murder of Boutros Ghali was political and not sectarian (Asa’ad, 1993: 38), the media campaign against Ghali focused heavily on his ‘Copticness’ as a way to underline his difference and as justification for their criticism of him. A shift in this pattern of press activity occurred with a shift in the political scene. The establishment of the Wafd party in 1919 led by Sa’ad Zaghloul, who embraced the slogan of ‘Egypt for the Egyptians’, cleared the way for the enthusiastic support of the Coptic elite for the anti-occupation movement (Tamura, 1985: 111) and 1919 remains a landmark year in the discourse on national unity. With the peak of anti-British protests also came the peak in the political activity of the press, but in the First World War years many newspapers closed down and the momentum of the press seemed to slow after the high point of 1919 and independence, especially as the hope that post-independence press would be freer was proved illfounded. This disappointment was in part due to the failure of the postindependence political system to deliver the effective government that had been hoped for. As a result, the issues that had been debated in the media, such as ideological conflicts within political parties, the freedom of the press, foreign influence and the cultural identity of Egypt, were not resolved. Despite these difficulties, the press remained a forum for the discussion of Egyptian politics and in 1937 there were 250 Egyptian and 65 foreign newspapers in Egypt. The early influence of the Syrians had been squeezed out of the press scene. The press was dominated by papers sponsored by the various political parties and reflected the intensification of political fragmentation during the 1930s as these papers were established and quickly expired, along with failed political parties and trends. The in-fighting within the Wafd party reflected this turmoil and it seems that the split of the Wafd party, which had given Copts such a visible platform in Egyptian political circles, also heralded the decline of the influential participation of Copts in political life. The in-fighting also precipitated a decline in the

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confident Coptic voices that had previously been so prominent in the Egyptian press. Although al-Watan and Misr were published until 1930 and 1966 respectively, the vitality and influence that they had enjoyed in the early twentieth century was gradually lost. As the importance of the national press as a vehicle for the expression of Coptic voices declined, the Church and its media channels increased in importance as a parallel sphere for the expression of Coptic social discourses and cultural heritage, as illustrated by the increasing use of specialist magazines rather than national papers to express Coptic views on the nation. This coincided with the beginning of a church revival in the 1940s that became known as the Sunday School Movement. This movement developed in parallel with the trend towards reviving Islamic socio-political activism (O’Mahony, 2010: 56), as illustrated in the growth of the Muslim Brotherhood movement.

The press after the 1952 revolution: a shrinking of the public space Although there was still a national Coptic-owned media working in parallel to the Church-produced media in the pre-revolution era, the July 1952 revolution decisively altered the atmosphere in which this pattern had thrived. With the failure of secular liberal party politics to meet expectations, the downfall of the Wafd party and ongoing debates as to the national character of Egypt, the socio-political climate leading up to the 1952 revolution was undefined. While the pre-independence media discourses were influenced by a discourse of national unity that had been forged in opposition to British control and therefore on a national territorial basis, political fragmentation and social change set the stage for an increase in discourses of religious identification. The continuation of Muslim–Coptic debates in the press until this point indicates that, despite the aspirations for national unity based on belonging to the Egyptian nation regardless of religion, the tension between religious and secular aspects of Egyptian identity had not been resolved. The relationship between the government and the press after 1952 continued to be unstable, with censorship being introduced and abolished and reintroduced several times between 1952 and 1954 and the journalists’ syndicate being dissolved in 1954. As the new government settled down it began to produce its own publications and in 1960 the press was nationalized by Law 156. As a result, the press came under the control of the Arab Socialist Union, centralizing both politics and the media under one authority (Dabbous, 1993) and giving Nasser’s government a monopoly over information. The closing down under Nasser of the independent press and other aspects of the public sphere, such as civil and political organizations, affected all Egyptians (Khamis, 2011: 1160). Egyptian writer Tawfik alHakim (1985: 38) saw Nasserism as a loss of consciousness and blindness to reality, which was embodied in the narrowing of public life and restriction of the freedom of expression after the early twentieth century.

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With the decline of Coptic visibility in the public sphere and increasing censorship, Copts began to construct a new space for participation and, since the religious media sector was already in place, this provided the institutional basis for an expansion of this space to meet this new need for an alternative platform for expression. In this way one of the compensatory trends to emerge from the restrictions under Nasser was the construction of a ‘Coptic sphere’ as an alternative parallel public. Since the national media did not attempt to provide for the particular representation of the Egyptian Christian identities and religious values, the result was the growth of magazines which were more Church-focused and specialist. Even pre-existing magazines followed this pattern to become less concerned with national social issues and reform and more focused on Church affairs, as well as other issues specific to the Coptic community. For example, the magazine Marqus was originally a magazine of general interest, focusing on culture and the arts, but later became a magazine specializing in the writings of the early Church Fathers (Morcos and Naguib, 1999: 185). This reversed the trend of Coptic publications established in the first half of the 20th century that were more outward looking and concerned with discussing Coptic issues as national issues (ibid.: 125–38). Since the ‘golden age’ of the Egyptian press in the early twentieth century, Coptic voices in the press had largely declined and Watani is now the only mainstream Coptic newspaper still published today. This does not mean that there is no active Coptic media scene. However, it has tended to become limited in readership and distribution to a ‘Coptic sphere’. This research is not based on worship materials, theological works or individual church publications. Instead it is focused on materials that are directed at a Coptic community as a whole and address the place of Copts in terms of the politics of belonging with relation to the state and the Coptic Church leadership. This focus allows an examination of the purpose and influence of the Coptic papers within the community and what the needs, goals and purposes of this media are, for both the producers and the audiences. While there are numerous magazines, books, papers and newsletters being published today, only the three publications that take the format of newspapers, namely Watani, Allam al-Mashaheer and al-Katiba al-Tibia, will be reviewed here, in addition to al-Keraza. Al-Keraza Although al-Keraza appears at first glance to be in the style of a simple church newsletter, it is an important channel for the Coptic Church to speak to the state as well as to Coptic congregations both in Egypt and in the diaspora. Al-Keraza is the Coptic Orthodox Church’s official magazine and was established by Shenouda in 1965. Until his death in 2012, Pope Shenouda remained the editor-in-chief of al-Keraza, which is now published in English as well as Arabic. It is available from Coptic churches and also on

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the Pope’s official website – Copticpope.org. The online English versions are only available for issues published between 2003 and 2008 but the Arabic versions are available from 2003 until the present time. Al-Keraza was banned for a time when Shenouda was sent into exile in 1981 by Sadat, but it was later to become the official voice of Pope Shenouda and is widely read by Copts. It is also used by the national press to refer to Coptic affairs and quote statements from the Church. Watani Watani is generally considered to be the only widely read Coptic newspaper and comes closest to giving Copts a voice that is not mediated by the Church.1 It mainly represents an educated middle class. Yet despite not being entirely representative, it is significant.2 This is because it is not affiliated to a particular group or church and it does not see itself as a religious publication but as a national paper presenting the Coptic perspective. Watani, meaning ‘my homeland’ was first published in 1958 by Anton Sidhom.3 It was founded as a private paper, but after a change in the law in 1992 prohibiting private newspapers, it became a shareholding company. Watani’s objective is to print a paper which is inclusive; in other words it sees itself as an Egyptian rather than Coptic paper but it aims to give a prominent voice to the Coptic role in Egyptian society and culture because of the marginalization of Copts in society, particularly during the second half of the twentieth century. This is in keeping with the attempts of Copts to show their contribution to Egyptian society as a whole via the press. Watani emphasizes this aspect of its mission, clearly speaking the discourse of belonging, national unity and the interwoven nature of the Egyptian fabric. This mission is a continuation of the early Coptic national papers, alWatan and Misr, although unlike these papers Watani’s readership is largely Christian and does not have the influential role that these two early papers did. However, as the only nationally available Coptic newspaper, it does constitute a significant forum that is relatively independent from the Church. Because it was established during Nasser’s regime, Watani began as a publication focusing on culture and economics. It was not established to champion the cause of the Copts. The relative political freedom of Sadat’s regime opened the door to Islamists to enter the public sphere and, in response, Watani attempted to highlight Coptic culture and the integral place of the Copts in the nation. This led to the closing down of Watani in 1981 and it remained suspended until it was reinstated by a court ruling in April 1984 several years after Mubarak came to power. Watani claims to play the role of ‘watchdog’ for the Coptic community, while attempting to stay out of politics, whether the internal politics of the Coptic Orthodox Church or the politics of the state. In order to do this Watani tries to relate news and highlight issues without being critical; it also has a significant focus on culture and society and its central message is the involvement of

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Copts in Egyptian society and the awareness within Egyptian society of Coptic heritage. This is highlighted by its weekly columns on Coptic art and language. Watani also places a strong emphasis on the citizenship concept in its efforts to encourage the participation of Copts in society as Egyptians. As an extension of this, Watani has sponsored a youth parliament, which since 2000 has brought together young Egyptians, both Copts and Muslims, to debate issues affecting Egyptian society. In this sense, Watani operates not only as a communicative forum but also to some degree as a social actor. Like the earlier national Coptic papers, Watani is not directed solely at providing for the spiritual needs of just one section of Egyptian society. In terms of its circulation, Watani is printed only in Egypt but has subscriptions worldwide, with 10 per cent of its weekly circulation of 60,000 overseas, and my questionnaires indicate that the newspaper is widely read. Clearly the main audience are Christians, although Yusef Sidhom, editor-inchief of Watani believes that 10 per cent of the readership is Muslim. According to Sidhom, the content is normally approximately apportioned as 20 per cent spiritual, 20 per cent social affairs, 20 per cent political issues and news and 20 per cent personal and family issues. The remainder covers economics, arts, science, sport and other issues. Pope Shenouda had a weekly column, as do a number of the other top members of the Coptic Orthodox leadership, page two being dedicated to spiritual topics. There is also a focus on international news as well as domestic news. The editorial on the front page tends to tackle sensitive issues, which are often, though not exclusively, related to Copts. For example, some of the topics include the NDP annual conference, citizenship issues, the debate over a unified law for places of worships and problems facing the Egyptian education system. Watani also produces a supplement in English and French, as well as a four- page international supplement in Arabic. These supplements usually consist of a selection of stories from foreign newspapers, translations of Arabic content (an English translation of Shenouda’s article was always included) and some unique content, which normally concerns Coptic heritage. In the main body of the paper, a notable feature is the considerable space given to social announcements, such as weddings, births, engagements and various congratulations messages, particularly to clergy. In this way, Watani functions as a social forum and meeting place for the community. Disseminating community news and church events acts as a network drawing the community together through these shared events, in the same way that shared national occasions such as Independence Day and so on, draw national communities together under a banner of Copticness. Al-Katiba al-Tibia Al-Katiba al-Tibia has been published irregularly since September 2004 and is mainly directed at Egyptian Christians, particularly Orthodox Copts. It is published under the supervision of Father Matthias Nasr Marqorious

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and is distributed via bookshops within churches and via the Internet. In fact, the paper has no licence and so cannot legally be distributed, yet it is clearly tolerated. The Church gives its tacit approval for distribution inside Church space. While not officially the voice of the Church, it is reliant on the Church for distribution. Unlike Watani, al-Katiba al-Tibia defines itself as a Christian newspaper, which is read by Copts at home and abroad and, according to the editor, also liberal and secular Muslims in Egypt.4 The name of this newspaper is symbolic. Al-Katiba al-Tibia means ‘The Theban Legion’, which according to hagiography was a legion entirely composed of Christians from Thebes in Egypt. In the third century, this legion was called to Gaul to assist the Roman Emperor Maximian and while there the legion refused to harm local Christians. As a result of this and further refusals, Maximian ordered all the members of the legion to be executed. St Maurice, a highly revered saint in the Coptic Orthodox Church, was the leader of this legion and his icon appears as the logo of this paper, linking it to the Coptic Church’s history of persecution and martyrdom. This contrasts with Watani, which uses an ancient Egyptian symbol as its logo rather than a specifically religious one. The reasons for choosing this title for the paper are explained on page one of each issue. According to the explanation, the title was chosen to express the persecution and difficulties currently faced by Copts in different areas of their lives. Some Coptic commentators believe that the readership within the Coptic community is restricted5 and assert that the critical way in which the newspaper discusses Islamism and its open calls for Coptic rights are permitted to give the appearance of freedom of expression;6 particularly in response to criticism from abroad, such as the European Parliament Resolution in January 2008 which criticized the Egyptian government for failing to address discrimination against Copts. The editor defines the content of the newspaper as approximately 40 per cent religious, 20 per cent social and 40 per cent political, ‘aimed at Copts as a separate and defined section of society with problems and needs that require their own media to serve them’.7 This paper outspokenly criticizes attacks on Christianity in the national media. In its October 2007 issue the newspaper carried an article in defence of Christianity in response to an article by Mohamed Amara, an al-Azhar scholar. As an unofficial publication, it acts as a channel for airing such sentiments within the ‘Coptic space’. The language and symbols in the paper tend to promote Egyptian identity as Coptic and Pharoanic. For example, the general title of the editorial is ‘Egyptian (Coptic) identity’ and is accompanied by a caricature of Egypt personified in ancient Egyptian dress. The stated aims of the paper also confirm that the key purpose is to reinforce what it calls ‘Egyptian (Coptic) identity’. It aims to promote this by resisting pan-Arabism and its entrenchment in Egypt, whether via media institutions or the education system. Furthermore, the intention is to increase cultural awareness in Egypt

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through the publication of Egyptian art, literature and language and revealing attempts to distort Egyptian history. Further aims include addressing and responding to the national press, especially when its coverage is perceived as harming the nation or the ‘true’ Egyptian identity. The paper aims to highlight news items that focus on oppression and injustice, while disseminating the ‘spirit of Christian martyrdom and methods of nonviolent resistance’. In detailing how the paper plans to achieve these goals, it becomes clear that this paper, like Watani, sees itself as a social actor as well as a publication. For example, included in the remit is the holding of seminars and meetings and the distribution of, and support for, publications that support the stated aims of the paper. Allam al-Mashaheer The editor and chief executive of Allam al-Mashaheer is Nagy William. This newspaper was started in 2005 as a monthly publication and, although it claims not to be affiliated to any denomination, it is widely believed to act as voice for the Coptic Orthodox Church, particularly Anba Beshoy who is Secretary of the Holy Synod, the Coptic Church’s highest ecclesiastical authority, and the Bishop of Kafr Sheikh. He authors a regular column in the newspaper. Allam al-Mashaheer considers itself to be a Christian publication and it is distributed through Church bookshops and online,8 although the website is not regularly updated and is of generally poor quality. Like al-Katiba al-Tibia, it has no official licence. The choice of title is interesting, translating as ‘the world of celebrities’, since the content is mainly focused on the activities of the Church and clergy. This seems to suggest that the clergy are the celebrities of the Coptic community. The main audience for the paper consists of Copts within Egypt, though it is not thought to be widely read. Critics see the newspaper as the mouthpiece of Beshoy. Other criticism levelled at the paper is that it is more about promoting commercial interests than serving the Copts or acting as a forum for diverse voices from the community.9 Since both this newspaper and al-Katiba al-Tibia are not widely read and are not published regularly, they will not feature largely in the following analyses since the book’s main focus is on Coptic integration in the wider national context. In terms of content, this newspaper tends to concentrate on religious affairs, followed equally by social and political issues and, finally, personal and family-related topics. Page two carries a column by the Pope and, as with Watani and al-Katiba al-Tibia, there are classifieds and some social announcements. The newspaper is printed in Egypt in Arabic, with an English supplement. This supplement and the heavy focus on the activities of the diaspora church, particularly in Los Angeles, suggests that the paper is also intended for the diaspora. Anba Marcos, Bishop of Shubra el Khema Eparchy and spokesman for the Coptic Orthodox Church, wrote an article in the November 2007 issue defending diaspora

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Copts against the accusation that they are traitors to Egypt, an accusation that is often levelled against them in the Egyptian press. Giving the Coptic diaspora such a voice via Church-sanctioned channels perhaps encourages the diaspora to exercise their community lives through the Church rather than taking their grievances elsewhere. This may also be part of the strategy to manage sectarianism in Egypt by discouraging political activism that can increase tensions within Egypt, while seeking to ensure that the diaspora Church feels included in the Egyptian Church. In this sense, the newspaper can potentially play a role as a social actor within the community. This brief overview of the Coptic-run newspapers currently in publication clearly points to the change in their function. At the present time, not even Watani has the ability to really impact on the national media scene. It is Watani’s goal to offer a perspective on national issues, present Coptic issues as national Egyptian issues and encourage an ethos of Coptic participation in national life as citizens. Despite the declared intent, Watani continues to present heavily Coptic-specific content that would seem to contradict these aims to some extent. Church-produced media is even more Coptic-focused. Part of the revival of the Coptic Orthodox Church concerned improving standards within the clergy and other social institutions, including in education, research and social services. A uniform ‘Coptic media’ formed one aspect of this and reflected the increased emphasis on reproducing the sources of the Coptic Orthodox faith, such as the sayings of the Church Fathers, hagiographies and spiritual and theological booklets. Subsequently, the emphasis of Copts involved in media shifted away from national dialogue and moved to community dialogue where social life goes on at the level of a community defined by common religious identification and collective heritage, enabling the Church to take authority and legitimacy as the source of community discourse from the social and political activists of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. By expressing its interpretation of the community’s needs and aspirations, the Church gained authority and legitimacy. The traditional role of the Church is as guardian of the community within the millet structure and as the Nasserist government set up a monopoly on national media, so the Coptic Church came to have a monopoly on Coptic media. The political climate, as well as socio-economic barriers, continues to enforce this limitation in print media on diverse voices in the public and church spheres, particularly those that question the orthodoxy of the established discourse. While the nationalization of the media and political life in Egypt was instituted, clericalization and centralization were among the defining features of the Coptic Orthodox Church revival. This increased the ability of the Church to control the discourse of the Coptic community and some of those involved in Coptic media production identify this period as one in which the quality of the magazine publications declined and content became banal.10

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The press and politics: controlling the flow of information Towards the end of Nasser’s presidency, between 1968 and 1970, the press began to revive once again and newspapers, particularly al-Ahram, adopted a more critical stance towards the government (Dabbous, 1993). The failure of the 1967 war with Israel deeply affected Egyptian national confidence and the government became more vulnerable to criticism (Amin, 2000: 161). The disaster of 1967 undermined the state’s legitimacy vis-à-vis religion to some extent, as Egyptians underwent a collective process of reflection on the causes of Egypt’s defeat by Israel (Asa’ad, 1993: 73). Nasser’s death in 1970 and the succession of Anwar Sadat ushered in yet another era in the social and political life of Egypt, particularly as Sadat attempted to institute an open door policy both economically and politically. However, Sadat’s approach to the freedom of the press was at times inconsistent. He did not invoke the Emergency Law that had been introduced by Law 158 of 1958, so journalists were freer in that respect, although many of the practices instituted in Nasser’s time continued, such as censorship and the ban on private newspapers. Later, in 1974, Sadat issued a decree abolishing censorship, except for that related to military affairs and in 1975 a decree was promulgated that established the Supreme Press Council. The Council was charged with supervising press affairs, the granting of licences to newspapers, mediating disputes and drawing up a code of ethics. Law No. 148 of 1980 states that the press is an independent popular authority with the freedom to express public opinion. It then goes on to say that the press also helps to shape public opinion. Despite this confirmation of the importance of the press and of press freedom, this law also prohibited the broadcasting and publishing of anything that could impact negatively on the reputation of Egypt. Those convicted of damaging the reputation of Egypt could be banned from public life and could face internal exile or restrictions on leaving the country. Such vague yet severe consequences inevitably resulted in some degree of selfcensorship among journalists. Although the presidency of Sadat is generally characterized by an opening up of political life due to the reinstatement of multi-party politics, albeit with significant limitations, the reforms were too superficial to create a sufficient foundation for a democratic culture to thrive. While Nasser’s regime limited all social and political activity, including, but not exclusively, that of Copts in the press, Sadat’s presidency is viewed as the catalyst for an Islamization of public life. Sadat encouraged Islamist groups to mobilize themselves to act as a counterweight to leftist movements (Shehata, 2010). The result was the exclusion of Coptic voices through the construction of a national consciousness that relied more heavily on Islamic identification than Nasser’s Arab socialism had done. Furthermore, the increasing space given to Islamic groups, such as the Muslim Brotherhood, enabled them to become more prominent in the media. As well as the increasing visibility of

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Islam in state media, Islamist groups produced numerous publications that promoted the concept of Islamic hegemony and claimed that the Coptic Church was preventing Egypt from becoming an Islamic state (Hasan, 2003: 106). One result was that the period 1970–81 saw a growth in Islamist politics and media, the regrouping of the Muslim Brotherhood and the establishment of violent jihadist groups, such as Islamic Jihad. This all helped to ignite sectarian tensions that resulted in an explosion of violence between Copts and Muslims. Indeed, as well as giving more influence to Islamic groups, Sadat’s presidency also coincided with a more politically active role for the Church under the guidance of Pope Shenouda. In order to counteract the increase in the usage of Islamic discourse to debate and express Egyptian belonging and consciousness, Shenouda became a vocal political actor as a spokesman for the Copts (Sedra, 2009: 1058–59). Like Islamist groups, Shenouda was also aware of the power of the media and he opened up channels with the national press as a way of broadening his support and dispersing his views to a broader audience. By doing so he precipitated a general national interest in Church affairs and fashioned himself as a ‘media superstar’ (Hasan, 2003: 239). This also reinforced Shenouda’s status, nationally and even internationally, as a political actor and spokesman (Asa’ad, 1993: 97). The Sadat period saw a growth in the use of religious language as a basis for conducting Muslim–Christian relations publically, as well as the broader visibility and impact of the figures employing this language (cf. McCallum, 2010). It also compelled media actors to more obviously permeate their speech with religious references in order to obtain authenticity. Thus, this period was considered to be a turning point in Muslim–Copt relations; giving rise to narratives that still influence the way the media is used today to debate Muslim–Copt relations and Egyptian identity. Prior to Mubarak’s succession, Law 148 of 1980 had altered the media landscape because Article 13 explicitly provided for the free issuance and possession of newspapers by political parties, as well as individuals. This ended the government’s monopoly, although the state retained ownership of the major newspapers. As under Nasser and Sadat, the relationship between the government and the press was unstable, and often contradictory during Mubarak’s presidency, and the practices of the Supreme Council for the Armed Forces (SCAF) in the months following the 25 January revolution indicate that Mubarak’s resignation did not change the policy of state control over media spaces. The confusion and difficulties faced by Egyptian journalists stem largely from the fragmentary nature of the laws concerning the media. The press under Mubarak was governed mainly by the Press Law, the Constitution and the Penal Code. Further legislation pertaining to the press can be found in the State Documents Law, Civil Servants Law and the Publications Act. Some aspects of this legislation contravene articles in the 1971 Constitution guaranteeing the freedom of the press. The 1980 constitutional amendments added an entire chapter to the Constitution and

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the freedom of expression and of the press was enshrined in Articles 47 and 48 of the 1971 Constitution. However, Article 48 goes on to state that, ‘In a state of emergency or in time of war a limited censorship may be imposed on the newspapers, publications and mass media in matters related to public safety or purposes of national security in accordance with the law’. Therefore, a key point that must be taken into consideration is that Emergency Law 162 of 1958, as amended by Law 37 of 1972, Law 164 of 1981 and Law 50 of 1982, came into force in 1981. This afforded the state considerable power to control the media. In 1995, the government promulgated Law 93, which amended the press laws and penal code. These changes precipitated strong opposition and, as a result, the government repealed or amended some of the controversial articles, including a section granting authorities the right to detain journalists without charge. These amendments, brought into force by Law 96 of 1996, also reduced the maximum period of imprisonment of journalists for libel from three to two years; however, they confirmed the existing prohibitions against the criticism of public officials, especially the Egyptian president and foreign heads of state. Law No. 96 of 1996 also regulates the Supreme Press Council, which oversees the press. This council is, in turn, overseen by the Majlis al-Shura, or Egyptian Upper House. In accordance with Article 55 of Law 96 of 1996, the Majlis al-Shura exercises the ownership rights over the national newspapers. It also elects the Chairman of the National Press Organization as well as six members for the membership of the Board of this Organization in accordance with Article 64. Furthermore, it elects the editors-in-chief of the government newspapers, in accordance with Article 65. Clearly, this enables considerable authority to be exercised over the national government papers, which arguably continue to dominate the Egyptian press. The broad scope of the laws governing the press enables the state to influence the independent and opposition press, while state newspapers exercise self-censorship. Indeed, the Egyptian press fall into one of these three categories. Independent newspapers had previously been foreign-based, usually in Cyprus, as a way of overcoming restrictions on ownership. In order to establish a newspaper, a complex series of permissions must be acquired, from the Supreme Press Council, state security services and the Council of Ministers, thus ensuring the government a further measure of control over the independent press, as well as the government press. Those wishing to establish a newspaper are also required to provide a significant amount of start-up capital, again providing a de facto restriction on those able to print independent papers. However, as ‘foreign’ newspapers, the government has the power to censor or ban issues, as all issues must pass through the Ministry of Information. In these ways the press, in all its forms, remains subordinate to the state to some degree. Since the early 2000s, a new generation of independent newspapers licensed in Egypt has been established as part of what is referred to as ‘the

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spirit of 2005’. The state tolerated protests organized in 2001 after the start of the second Palestinian Intifada and then in 2003 after the war in Iraq (Shehata, 2010). This expansion of space for activism led to new opposition groups being formed, such as Kefaya, which was conceived of as an allinclusive protest movement, and the al-Ghad Party founded by Ayman Nour as a secular-liberal party in 2004. This mood led to the speech in which Mubarak set out his political liberalization project. It did appear that Mubarak intended to liberalize the press as part of this, as he indicated in statements made in 2004 and 2005. These statements, in addition to the loosening of the grip of the state on sources of information due to the increase in electronic media technology, especially blogs, the establishment of satellite television channels and these independent papers, all contributed to a climate that has enabled the press to begin to cross the ‘red lines’ (Iskander, 2011). The result was an increased sense of freedom to print articles on issues such as torture, religion, corruption and some aspects of Coptic affairs and Muslim–Copt relations which had previously been taboo and therefore kept invisible by the state’s monopoly on information. Although the continued arrests of journalists clearly showed that criticism of Mubarak and other top officials remained a red line to be crossed only very carefully,11 this relative increase in freedom also increased the ability of the press to play the role of a forum for debate on sensitive issues. Yet the government perhaps underestimated the success that business corporations would have in investing in media when it granted licences to new Egyptbased independent newspapers.12 The most prominent and highly regarded of these is al-Masry al-Youm, which was established in 2004 and whose relatively balanced political coverage indicates for many a new current in Egyptian journalism (Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies, 2005: 9). Before the opening up of the press, the three main daily papers were alAhram, al-Akhbar and al-Gomhoriya, which are all government papers whose editors are appointed by the state. These papers tended to act as conduits for the promotion of government policies, as well as for the construction of ‘heroic narratives around the persons of leading government figures, and the Mubarak family in particular’ (Peterson, 2011: 2). The bias of al-Ahram was exposed during the 18-day protest period that began on 25 January 2011. Although the Muslim Brotherhood had declared that they would not join the demonstrations, al-Ahram launched a strong attack on the demonstrators by claiming they were Muslim Brotherhood members and criminals (Shuman et al., 26 January 2011). The biased coverage of al-Ahram and state television channels caused some members of staff to resign and caused considerable distrust among the people (Iskander and Monir, 2012). Apart from state-owned newspapers, a second category can be described as opposition or party newspapers. Prior to 25 January, the main one was alWafd. This newspaper was often critical of the regime on a number of issues, all of which comprise topics on which the government deems criticism acceptable. This enabled the state to give an impression of permitting a

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free press, particularly prior to the establishment of the independent papers. This practice of allowing some criticism of the government was employed by Nasser in order to give an impression of a free press despite the regime of censorship (Dabbous, 1993: 107). This strategy is characteristic of a broader system identified by Shehata (2010) as a liberalized authoritarian system. She argues that gestures that appear to be liberalizing are usually made under pressure or for the purpose of co-opting and dividing the opposition. In both cases, the gestures are often only temporary. Rutherford also hinted at the cycle of liberalization gestures and crackdowns on freedom of speech and political activism that had emerged throughout Mubarak’s presidency (2008: 15–16). But, regardless of the motivation behind it, allowing the foundation of the independent newspaper al-Masry al-Youm was a turning point in providing alternative media coverage (Black, 2008). According to Cooper, also writing in 2008, al-Ahram’s daily circulation was 500,000– 600,000 and al-Masry al-Youm’s was 100,000–150,000. The impact of the latter was probably greater than the circulation figures suggest and probably greater still after the 25 January revolution because of the loss of credibility suffered by state media as a result of its support for Mubarak and its coverage of the political transition. There were already indications that the cycle was beginning to move back towards tighter media controls in late 2010. In September, shortly before parliamentary elections held in November, the talk show of government critic and editor-in-chief of the independent newspaper al-Dostor, Ibrahim Issa, was taken off air. Then, on 4 October 2010, he was fired from his position at al-Dostor. Also in October, the National Telecommunications Regulatory Authority (NTRA) ordered that media companies register for permits before they could send out SMS news alerts to subscribers’ mobile phones. Among those targeted was al-Masry al-Youm. There were also reports that text messages sent by Muslim Brotherhood members and political activists were being monitored (Radsch, 2010). This was a period of heightened political tension because of the question marks over the potential succession to the presidency of Mubarak’s son, Gamal Mubarak. There was strong opposition to this dynastic-style succession, not only among the general population and political opposition but, very likely, also within the National Democratic Party (NDP) and the top ranks of the army. Issa had written a series of articles against the scenario of President Mubarak delivering the presidency to his son Gamal. He also opened al-Dostor to the articles of the National Assembly for Change, the organization that had backed Mohamed ElBaradei. It is this latter move that Issa believes motivated the decision to have him removed. These strategies are not exclusive to the Mubarak regime. The SCAF that took power after Mubarak’s resignation continued to practice the same restrictions imposed by Mubarak on state media. Removing the top layer of the officials in charge has not provided any short cuts to institutional reformation or new policies. During and since the uprising, the media has been a

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battlefield and a major site of struggle in trying to construct who is protecting the revolution and who is trying to prevent it. The appointment of Tareq al-Mahdi, a military marshal, to a new and vague position of ‘supervisor’ at the ministry for media further supported the SCAF’s determination to control information disseminated by the media wherever possible (Iskander, 2011: 1234). State media was also employed to bolster support for the SCAF policies and the narrative of ‘al-Gaysh wa al-Sha’ab Eed Wahda’ (The Army and the People are One and the Same), which was popularized during the revolt. The SCAF adopted a threefold approach towards the media. This included an effort to adapt to the new media scene that includes social media channels, attempts to censor newspapers, television and Internet activists who were critical of the army and, finally, the continuation of the former regime’s policy of using state media to promote the aims of the state, which in this case meant the SCAF. Their willingness to directly intervene was confirmed when an edition of Roz al-Yusef newspaper was confiscated on 27 September 2011 by an order issued by the SCAF to al-Ahram Press, which prints the newspaper. The SCAF’s treatment of the media led journalists to protest against military censorship of the media in front of the journalists’ syndicate building on 5 October 2011. It also soon became clear that the SCAF would not tolerate criticism of the army when the blogger Michael Nabil Sanad was sentenced to five years’ imprisonment. He had long been a critic of compulsory military service and had faced arrest and harassment, but it was not until the SCAF came to power that he was imprisoned. A brief survey of the content of state media after 11 February reveals a clear focus on delivering the SCAF messages and an all-out refusal to tolerate any sort of criticism of the SCAF’s policies in Egypt. Clearly, the way the different forms of media interacted with the 25 January revolt, how they have been utilized during the protests and the transition and the way discourses have been constructed and circulated, all point to the interrelationship between media content and usage and the socio-political context. The efforts to gain access to media and to control it also demonstrate the value placed on managing knowledge and information, the way it is disseminated and by whom. Understanding these interactions and identifying the media actors contributes to setting out Egypt’s mediascape and to understanding how media discourses are generally related to power politics. Similarly, we can focus on the specific example of the interaction between socio-political context and Copts use of the press and the construction of Coptic discourses in its pages to get a sense of a specific Coptic mediascape.

Copts on the national front page The preceding discussion illustrates how the media has historically been used as a mechanism supporting Coptic agency to integrate Coptic perspectives into society at large. The Copts used the early press not only to

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discuss Coptic and national issues within Egypt but also to raise awareness abroad and, in 1910, the journalist Kyriakos Mikhail went to London as a correspondent for Coptic-owned papers and to interest the general public in Coptic claims (Wakin, 1963: 169). These multiple functions of media are a pattern that Cottle (2000) identified in the use of media by minority interest groups. These functions include the use of media to serve the interests of the community internally, while also representing the community externally to increase visibility. For these reasons, media acts as a window into discourses that seek to describe and construct levels of Coptic belonging. It also hints at the changing boundaries of acceptable speech in the media. Although there has been a clear decline in national Coptic-owned newspapers, there has been a growth in the coverage of Coptic affairs in the Egyptian press as a whole. There are a number of factors that have specifically resulted in an increased visibility of Copts in the Egyptian media. Labib (2004: 170) traces the start of increased coverage of Coptic affairs in the media as coinciding with the state’s efforts to commemorate the biblical references to the Holy Family (Mary, Joseph and Jesus) seeking refuge in Egypt as part of the millennium celebrations in 2000. According to Rowe, it seems that the impact of this was not limited to the media but was felt more broadly. He asserts that, ‘Preparations for the millennium celebrations gave the government the opportunity to call for the inclusion of a book on Coptic culture in the state education curriculum in 1998’ (2009: 121). A further step in increasing the visibility of Copticness in the public space was the decision to make Christmas a national public holiday in 2003. In this climate, a combination of events collided to impact on the coverage of Muslim–Christian relations still further, particularly with regard to the issue of sectarianism. The 2005 violence in Alexandria was a turning point. For the first time, the Muslim–Copt clashes were comprehensively covered by Egyptian press and television, as well as by the international media. Perhaps key to this development is the fact that the incident took place in Alexandria, rather than in rural Upper Egypt. Alexandria is Egypt’s second city and an incident there cannot be so easily hidden or attributed to a feud between conservative rural families as it can in Upper Egyptian villages. This fact, in conjunction with the opening up of the press since 2004 and general developments in communications technology, as well as the increased coverage of Coptic affairs in Egypt that arguably began in 2000, resulted in more open discussion of Muslim–Christian relations and inter-communal violence. For these reasons, the shift in the boundaries that had previously delimited the scope of the content that the press was able to publish prior to 2005 has significantly affected the amount of content covering Coptic affairs. Previously, Coptic issues, particularly related to sectarian violence, were difficult to publish. According to Hossam Bahgat, a former journalist with the Cairo Times, when this independent English-language newspaper

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covered the sectarian violence that took place in al-Kosheh in 2000, an entire edition of the paper was confiscated. This incident at al-Kosheh, a village in Upper Egypt with a majority Coptic population, began on 31 December 1999 with a disagreement between a Copt and a Muslim and for some Copts it has become symbolic of the discrimination which they argue exists against them. After the dispute, Coptic shops and properties were vandalized. The violence spread over the following days and 21 Copts and a Muslim were killed. On 5 February 2001, the Criminal Court of Sohag sentenced four of the 96 defendants – not for murder, but for carrying weapons and participating in the riots. This caused an outcry among Copts and a retrial was ordered after Pope Shenouda said the Church would appeal. At the retrial in February 2003, Mayez Amin Abdel Rahim was convicted of the murder of the Muslim victim. Not only was the edition of the Cairo Times covering the el-Kosheh violence confiscated, an order was also issued that made possession of this edition of the Cairo Times illegal.13 In contrast, the Coptic issue is now regarded as one of the ‘hot topics’ that sells papers, which in a commercially driven media scene is a major concern. It is no longer uncommon to find headlines on the front page each day that refer to Coptic affairs or sectarian issues.14 While the presence of content on and by Copts increased in the past decade, the national press has also once again become a forum used by Copts to debate internal community issues. The return to this use of the press continues the historical pattern identified previously of treating Coptic and national issues as indivisible. In this tradition, the press is acting as a space for dialogue between diverse Coptic voices, such as between some diaspora Copts and Copts within Egypt who do not support diaspora activism and between the Church leadership and the Secular Copts Front.15 According to former member Mina Monir, the Secular Copts Front is a group of writers and activists who emerged in the early 2000s. They convened three conferences calling for reforms in the ecclesiastical institutions of the Church and also in its relationship with the state. There was a split in 2010 when some members ended their affiliations with the group because its activities were more concentrated on internal Church affairs rather than the political role of the group and Church–state relationship. The increase in coverage of Coptic affairs is generally considered by Coptic commentators and journalists to have had a positive effect overall. It is viewed as part of the campaign in Egypt to promote a culture of dialogue and the acceptance of the ‘other’. They cite that there is a general lack of awareness among Muslim Egyptians about Christianity and one of the results of this can be cultural discrimination.16 However, the difficulty remains that much of the Egyptian media is affiliated to a group or ideology. Therefore, it is often limited by religious perspective, political and commercial objectives or self-censorship.17 Consequently, although the coverage of communal violence became more visible and comprehensive, it was represented in a specific manner through specific

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discourses, at least in the official press. The independent papers have encouraged a more honest discussion of sectarianism, Coptic affairs and other issues such as the problem of torture and corruption.18 Optimists comment that increased discussion oft Coptic issues in the press will increase knowledge and enable Coptic voices to become louder and combat misrepresentation.19 However, the quality, accuracy and objectivity of such coverage still need to be taken into consideration when considering its overall impact.20 Increased presence in the press does not necessarily denote positive coverage. While increased visibility of Copts in the media may appear to address media exclusion issues, the type of coverage and how it is interpreted by Copts and Egyptians as a whole may serve to create further de facto exclusion, or at least a perception of it. To address exclusion of Copts from, or misrepresentation in, the media Roz al-Yusef has introduced a dedicated section for Coptic affairs. This section is synonymous with Church affairs and is called ‘Qasowsa wa Ruhban’, which translates as ‘Priests and Monks’. The dilemma with introducing such sections is that, while they give visibility and address in some respects complaints of exclusion of Copts, they also highlight difference and separation on the basis of religion, rather than integration and the understanding of national belonging beyond religion. This sense of displacement from the national Egyptian consciousness is manifest in media narratives. In January 2010, six Copts and one Muslim were shot outside a church in Naga’ Hammadi when gunmen opened fire on people leaving a church after Christmas Eve mass. The attack was thought to be in retaliation for an alleged assault on a Muslim girl by a Christian man. The Copts who were killed were described in the media as victims, whereas the Muslim was described as a martyr. This difference was picked up by some Coptic commentators and was discussed in the press. One Coptic blogger presented a detailed review of the language used in the major newspapers to report the two shootings (Tomas, 11 January 2010). The official newspapers all used the term ‘victim’ for the Copts and ‘martyr’ for the Muslim killed alongside the Copts. Roz al-Yusef and al-Dostour simply referred to those shot as Copts while al-Masry al-Youm used the phrase ‘Christian citizens’ and described the shooting as an isolated incident that does not affect national unity. Al-Ahram foregrounded the alleged attack on the Muslim girl as the reason for the shooting by placing this before the news of the shooting in the headline. These differences and the impact that they had on Copts have resulted in fears expressed by some is that inaccurate or biased articles on issues related to Copts could contribute to sectarian attitudes, rather than encourage social cohesion. This clearly has a potentially negative impact on ideas of national unity and belonging. Therefore, to answer the question of whether there is symbolic exclusion of the Copts in Egyptian mainstream press is more complex than identifying if there is proportional representation. There an identifiable increase in coverage of Coptic issues, particularly of internal Church affairs.

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However, social, political and commercial pressures prevent the press from being completely objective or from enabling diverse voices to gain access.

Conclusion In the same way that it is artificial to separate Coptic issues from Egyptian issues, so the relationship between the development of Egyptian and Coptic media is interlinked because the conditions that were a catalyst for their emergence and development until the present day encompass national social, political and economic factors. This brief overview of the development of Egypt’s media ecology illustrates the intimate relationship between the media and the socio-political environment and also illustrates the fact that in Egypt all citizens are subject to this environment regardless of religious affiliation. The limitations experienced by Christian and Coptic media are largely the same as those faced by media in Egypt and in the region in general, whether religious or secular, national or community-based (Morcos and Naguib, 1999: 108). This historical overview also shows that Egyptian media is a forum that has been used since its establishment to discuss national issues, belonging and Muslim–Coptic relations and that the media has a powerful role to play in such debates. In the past, Copts have clearly used printed media to participate in national social and political life and also to discuss the grievances and aspirations of their community and of Egypt as a whole. It has demonstrated the changing content and objectives of Coptic media and those producing it and also that the dominance of any one form of Coptic media is generally tied to the social and political circumstances of the context from which it emerges. Modern Egyptian media can be viewed as a continuation of this dynamic process, particularly in light of the development of electronic media channels. This overview emphasizes the importance of the debate regarding ‘belonging’ in Egypt. It is an ongoing debate that has evolved and changed, as reflected in the content and usage of the press. This further underlines the merit of examining the media and its discourses in order to understand the politics of the modern Coptic community and its relationship with wider Egyptian politics and society. This chapter has begun to reveal the strong role played by the Church as political and media actor and the interest both the Church and the state have in managing the content of media discourse. It also highlights the current weakness of the Coptic press as a separate sphere from Church publications, particularly in comparison with the press of the early twentieth century. The Coptic-owned press before 1952 was an integral part of the national press, often set up with the objective of nationalizing Coptic issues and encouraging the inclusion of Coptic voices in the public sphere as an inseparable ingredient of Egyptian national discourse. This media was national and participatory but it was also divisive. Newspapers often represented the cause or affiliation of their owners, leading to a categorization of

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the press into Coptic and Muslim. Even after this dynamic faded, newspapers often remain tied to both the immediate political environment and the affiliations of the newspapers’ owners, with publications often representing the state or the different political blocs. This has helped to support a political and media culture based on a patron-client construction. As regards modern Coptic media, it is more clearly separate and particularistic, resulting from factors within the Coptic community itself, as well as changes in the national socio-political climate. But while the Coptic press outside the Church sphere is less vibrant than in the past there are also indications, particularly since 2005, that the Coptic elite and the diaspora do have the potential to operate as alternative media actors through the national press rather than specifically Coptic-owned newspapers. This has the potential to encourage inclusion rather than differentiation. However, voices from different layers within Coptic society remain marginalized.

3

Coptic online spaces The impact of the Internet on Coptic politics

Contributing to the expansion of boundaries of content and narratives in the press is the emergence of new communications technology, but the question of the potential impact of new electronic media on social and political life has been a hotly contested one. Social media has gained prominence in Egyptian politics because of its ability to connect networks of people (Faris, 2008) and because it offers channels to voices that might otherwise remain submerged in the authoritarian Egyptian political system. The question here is whether the Internet is acting as a platform to create specifically Coptic networks and, if it does, whether this has any relevance or any impact on the dominant discourses of Copticness by offering a platform to expose the diversity of Coptic voices. In the world of Web 2.0, the line between audience and media producer is blurred and more fluid than in the case of the press and other forms of mass media. For this reason I use the term ‘user’ rather than ‘audience’ because the ability of the Internet to act as a space for engagement affords it the potential to act as an interactive forum, in a way that the press does not. It is this interaction and space that Jones (1998: 63) believes gives ample room for the expression of identity, although not the fixing or structuring of it. At the same time, he asserts that computer-mediated communication (CMC) provides the means for the technical reproduction of culture that can transform identities (ibid.: 189). This can be partly attributed to peer-to-peer communication which characterizes social media tools such as Facebook, Twitter and YouTube (Khamis and Vaughn, 2011: 2; Boyd and Ellison, 2007). Electronic communications technologies are often attributed with the potential to transform social relations and afford greater freedom of expression. In examining this question, this chapter will discuss whether new media offers the potential to reconstruct socio-political relations by acting as a platform for increased diversity of discourses. It will also examine the ways in which Copts use CMC to express their experience of belonging as Copts, how such expressions and sharing of experiences in turn shape discourse and what Copts are using electronic media to say about Copticness. Related to this is the question of whether the actors who are prominent in the press also operate in the same way and according to the same hierarchies within

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the sphere of online media. This will indicate whether there are currently channels for alternative discourses or whether they are in formation but are limited due to the reproduction of power structures online. Periods of relative liberalization in the national press have enabled some previously submerged voices to emerge, including individual Coptic voices; but there are still limitations. If the press is unable to provide a platform for the diverse voices of the Coptic community because it is exclusive in terms of access and because Coptic press operates only in a Coptic space, can the Internet potentially provide an effective ‘communicative space’ (Madianou, 2005) for Copts? And indeed, if it does, what are the consequences for belonging at the national level?

Crossing more red lines: the Internet effect The debates over the ability of new media, and social media networking in particular, to act as a tool for mobilization and political change have gathered pace since the high profile role of Facebook, Twitter and YouTube in the 25 January uprising. While the Egyptian government had repeatedly arrested bloggers and had blocked a small number of politically sensitive websites, according to the Open Initiative, Internet filtering was not a major problem in Egypt.1 This, and the dominance of state media in the press and television sectors, partly explains why the Internet, and blogs and social media in particular, have been increasing in popularity throughout the 2000s as a channel available to young activists who did not feel represented by the existing and very limited political and media options available. Online media established an alternative avenue for participation and dialogue (El Gamal, 2010: 21; Eltantawy and Wiest, 2011: 1208). The movements like Kefaya that emerged from the political activism of the early 2000s recognized the potential of new media as a space for debate and outreach (Shehata, 2010). Networks of activists found each other and formed online networks that began to establish the infrastructure needed for a culture of protest to develop. As well as facilitating communication between activists, electronic media made it more difficult for the state to retain its monopoly over information and so forced an expansion in the media’s boundaries. This was one of the factors in constructing the climate in which Egypt’s 25 January uprising took place. The state reacted by developing new ways to try to control media content and Egypt has been identified by Reporters without Borders as being among the worst countries for its restrictions on access to the Internet and harassment of those using the Internet for free expression of certain political opinions. The arrests of bloggers from Tunisia to Iran to Egypt, indicated that governments feared their potential impact. The shutting down of Egypt’s Internet and mobile communications on 27 January was a tacit acknowledgement that the free flow of information facilitated by media channels beyond the reach of state media institutions weakened the state’s ability to contain the protests.

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For Koukal (2010: 122), one of the main forms of ‘virtual dissent’ has increasingly been blogging. The growth in the Egyptian blogosphere, like the increase in independent newspapers, is linked to the movements for political reform that grew out of, and formed part of, the ‘spirit of 2005’. Bloggers are considered to be one factor that enabled the press to begin to touch on taboo issues, particularly subjects related to the government and religion (cf. Radsch, 2008). Without the legal restrictions under which the press operated, bloggers were able to disseminate footage of anti-government protests and were the first to speak openly and explicitly about institutionalized torture, posting pictures and videos on the Internet that exposed police brutality (al-Hamalawy (‘3arabawy’), February 2007; The Arabist, 2006). This broke the silence of self-censorship in the press, which had previously existed as a result of the state’s media monopoly and pressure not to discuss certain issues that the government considered harmful to its hold on power and to social stability. Similarly, after a video posted on YouTube (engihaddad, 2007), showing an Egyptian woman being harassed in central Cairo, the press and civil society took up this previously taboo issue and, in October 2008, this combined movement resulted in the first conviction of a man for sexual harassment. This example shows not only that traditional media needed social media to forge a larger and less restrictive space to be able to have an impact on the political scene, but also that the online campaign only had an impact at the national level when traditional media began to discuss it and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) promoted it as a campaign issue. This ability for issues to cross over from the blogosphere to the national public sphere suggests why bloggers have been subjected to harassment. In 2007, a blogger known as Karim Amer, was sentenced to three years in prison for insulting Mubarak and one year for ‘inciting hatred of Islam’. He regularly posted criticism of Mubarak’s government which he called autocratic, and also of al-Azhar, Egypt’s mainstream Islamic institution. The blogs of Muslim Brotherhood supporters are monitored and Coptic bloggers have also suffered harassment from the state. In October 2008, Hani Nazeer Aziz, a Coptic blogger, was arrested and his blog, Kariz al-Hob,2 shut down. This follows the harassment and arrest of Hala alMasry in 2007 for her blog, Copts Without Borders,3 which is periodically closed down and reopened. Both of these bloggers are based in Upper Egypt, so blogging is not just a Cairo-based phenomenon, despite the uneven spread of technology. This also shows that developments in media technology have been adapted as platforms for expressing views of Egyptian Christians.

Virtual Copticness: constructing Coptic networks online Hofheinz (2007: 75) found that religion has greater weight in Arabic cyberspace than almost anywhere else on the Internet, but the distinction between

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what is religious and what is secular is blurred and often subjective. It is also dynamic since what is religious and what is not is continually constructed and performed though social interaction (Beckford, 2003: 195–98). My observations of Coptic websites showed that many sites will offer a number of services, some being related specifically to the traditional realm of religion, for example recordings of sermons, Q&A pages for advice on spiritual matters, or pictures of Coptic icons. At the same time, the site may also be used to arrange social events or discuss matters related to work or study. Therefore, in order to compare secular and religious use of the Internet, I used questionnaires to ask users of Coptic sites about their online activity. This enabled the respondents to self-categorize what is religious and secular to them to avoid imposing assumptions. According to their answers, religious activities take priority over non-religious activities. For example, while 17.4 per cent use the Internet to watch secular television, 29.8 per cent use it to watch faith-based television. This pattern is repeated for forums, chat rooms, radio and message groups. The only activity in which secular sites are more popular than Christian sites are newspapers; 46.6 per cent read mainstream newspapers online compared with 41.5 per cent who read specifically Christian newspapers. These results indicate that, for those using Coptic websites, the Internet fulfils a need to be able to express their faith that is not provided for in mainstream media. This is the case whether the respondents were based in Egypt or in the diaspora, perhaps because, in both, the Copts are a minority faith group. Those responding to the surveys indicated that they prefer to use faith-based Internet sources rather than secular ones in order to make lifestyle choices. The survey also asked respondents if they had used the Internet to ask for advice or discuss subjects related to personal, political, social or religious issues. Naturally, Coptic sites were more popular for seeking advice on religious issues; 36.2 per cent of respondents indicated that they had used a Coptic site to request advice on a religious matter, while only 6.8 per cent had used a secular site for this purpose. This pattern is also repeated for social and personal issues. 15.2 per cent of respondents had used Coptic sites for advice on social issues, compared with 11.3 per cent using secular sites and 19.4 per cent had used Coptic sites for advice on personal matters while 10.8 per cent had used secular sites. Only for political issues were secular sites more popular, and then only by 0.2 per cent; 9.1 per cent having used Coptic sites and 9.3 per cent having used secular sites to discuss political matters. While the Internet is used as a means of gathering information, requesting advice and discussing issues pertaining to Coptic beliefs, values and heritage, it is also used for networking and maintaining and creating relationships within the offline Coptic community. This is the aspect that turns an online Coptic audience into an online Coptic community (Liebes and Curran, 1998: 110). It also accounts for the popularity of forums and message groups where questions can be asked, information exchanged, events organized,

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jobs advertised and opinions shared (Harasim, 1993: 25). Forums and message groups also require membership, which represents a need to form an active identification with the group. A large proportion of Coptic websites also have a membership system which allow the users to contact each other and receive updates or access certain content. These belonging and relational aspects of the Internet make it a significant field for examining Coptic belonging, because community is based on identity and identity is a dynamic construction that is formed and maintained though interaction and dialogue (Bell, 2001). Copticness, however interpreted, is the overarching construct of solidarity for many of those accessing Coptic groups online. When asked if electronic media can serve to reinforce the relationships within the Coptic community, 50 per cent said ‘yes’ and 14.3 per cent said ‘no’, while 25.2 per cent said they were unsure. The media producers were more confident and 71.8 per cent said they thought electronic media strengthens Coptic relations, 7.8 per cent said ‘no’ and 15.4 per cent said they were unsure. Clearly, the direct impact of electronic media is something yet to be proved as it is still new technology and its use is always evolving. Nevertheless, 53.4 per cent of respondents claimed they use the Internet to make contact with other Copts and a number of respondents indicated that the main advantage of the Internet, in their view, was the maintenance of relationships and reaching out to other Copts, as illustrated in the following comments of the respondents about the main advantage of Internet communication: The benefit of using the Internet is the unlimited, uninterrupted line of communication with Copts from all over the globe. (Female, USA) Since Coptics [sic] are spread around the world, outside of the local church community there aren’t many opportunities to contact other Coptic members. The Internet breaks borders and makes it relatively easy to contact others. It strengthens the relationship between Copts all over the world, as well as making us feel that we are all under the same denomination, no matter what church or what city or country we live in. (Male, USA) It gathers together Copts wherever they are in the world. (Male, Egypt) Networking with other Copts appears to be a confirmation of self, especially among respondents resident in countries outside Egypt. One respondent stated that they use the Internet, ‘just to know there are plenty of Copts like myself ’ (Male, USA).This sense of belonging as a Copt is clearly important to those visiting Coptic sites, as 61.1 per cent of respondents say that they have joined Coptic groups online, whereas just 32 per cent have joined non-Coptic ones. There is also a supportive aspect to this; one respondent stating that the main benefit of the Internet is, ‘To call on other Copts for help in times of need’ (Female, USA). The ability to conduct

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relationships between Copts via the Internet space is clearly a significant characteristic. This intertwining of offline and online flows of relationships is clear, as is the importance of delineating Coptic spaces in which these flows can circulate. This necessitates strategies for carving out particularistic Coptic spaces that are immediately identifiable as such. One of the most significant ways this is achieved is through the imagery and symbolism utilized. The Internet has the ability to combine social semiotics with language giving it a strong impact, particularly in contemporary visual culture (Gauntlett and Horsley, 2004). Coptic online media often uses images that require a cultural knowledge to interpret them. They are part of the doxa, the undiscussed, normalized knowledge that appears in all Coptic online spaces regardless of the media actor or the purpose of the site. Images have a role in shaping realities (Mitri, 1999) and the significance and purpose of images enables them to bind members within an identity construct that conveys a particular discourse. Because of the discourse they convey, the use of images can lend authenticity to a webpage as being ‘genuinely Coptic’ (Hine, 2000: 139). The most prominent symbol on these sites is normally a Coptic cross or icon. This reflects the pivotal role of religious heritage in the symbolism and identity of the Copts. On a website specifically directed at dating for Copts, the logo is a pyramid topped by a heart and a cross. This emphasizes the religious and territorial aspects that are often foregrounded within Coptic Internet spaces, not only to those relating to religious or political topics, but as a central axis for the building of relationships among Copts. A significant proportion of the Coptic websites are based on particular churches or popular figures in the clergy, so there is a strong sense of ecclesiastical location at the centre of these electronic networks. Of the top 20 most popular Coptic sites mentioned by the respondents to the survey, only six were not based on or a run by a church or member of the clergy. Three of these six still used religious symbolism. Symbols, such as icons, Coptic art, Coptic language and the use of Coptic music all identify these electronic sites and groups with their offline social and religious structures. Therefore, preexisting structures have a strong influence over the construction of online forums. The imagery surrounding place is also very prominent on Coptic sites. This is due to the centrality of the physical territory of Egypt to Coptic heritage, whether through pride in an ancient culture, represented by widespread use of ancient Egyptian references, or in the Coptic spiritual heritage, as represented in Coptic language, music and stories such as Egyptian hagiographies and the flight of the Holy Family to Egypt. The story of the flight of the Holy Family to take refuge in Egypt is of great importance to the Copts and their roots as an indigenous people of Egypt. Among Copts, the biblical verses referring to Egypt are often repeated, such as ‘Out of Egypt I called my Son’.4 Egypt is central to Coptic faith and imagery, many sites using images of the pyramids, other ancient Egyptian references or

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Coptic art, which is heavily influenced by the Egyptian landscape. The physical places of the Coptic Church and Egypt are thus incorporated into online Coptic presence and reinforced there, so the Coptic cyber space ‘makes me feel we are united and more committed to our Coptic church and Coptic land’ (Male, Oman), as one respondent wrote. The Internet does supersede time and space and this has led some commentators to assert that it detaches users from their physical location (Meyrowitz, 1985). However, the Coptic cyberspace is very much rooted in an imagined recreation of a physical location as a homeland, with media acting as a powerful tool for its construction and remembrance (cf. Ginsburg et al., 2002). This reinforces the Coptic community as an Egyptian one, an indigenous community with a legitimate claim to the identity and resources of Egypt. As Miller and Slater (2000) found in their ethnography of the Internet in Trinidad, the Internet is not necessarily a separate virtual world, but is embedded in other social or physical spaces. This points to a merging of online and offline relationships. The ability to download sermons, liturgies, pictures, hymns and other audio, visual and written material for use offline, further blurs the boundary between online and offline spaces. In addition to the ability to download material, most of these sites are also interactive in their ability to give feedback on their content and appearance. These observations regarding the integration of online and offline communities are supported by other research on the way a particular group, whether national, religious or ethnic, transposes itself into the virtual world of the Internet, while remaining grounded in, and intertwined with, offline social organization. The Coptic community is not simply virtual but is an offline community using the Internet to express itself and support its members’ needs. This explains why many Copts actively seek out specifically Coptic sites online. The interaction between online and offline communities has been a significant field of inquiry in Internet studies. Coleman and Normann (2000) conducted a study of online support groups for victims of domestic violence in the UK that found that participants created supportive relationships online, which were also followed up by offline meetings. This supports the conclusion that Internet organization can be translated to offline networks and groups and vice versa. This indicates that the users do not distinguish between their virtual and offline activities or identities but that the one confirms the other. In fact, online spaces are often made as real as possible and are usually connected to physical place (Correll, 1995). Mills (2002) describes how Kurds are creating a ‘cybernation’ for the Kurdish people in the absence of a formal nation state, in order to preserve their ethnic and cultural identity through the ‘imagining’ of a shared homeland that gathers Internet users around a connection rooted in place. This demonstrates that communications technology does not determine or create social relations or identities, but offers a platform for the confirmation, challenging and renegotiation of them. In fact, the Internet emerges as

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a social space only through actions of its users (Saunders, 2006: 51). From this perspective, using Anderson’s (1983) term ‘imagined community’ to describe the role of media in forming a community can be misleading; media can emphasize a particular identity or sense of belonging through the dissemination of a particular discourse. However, it does not create it or imagine it from nothing. It is built on a pre-existing base of shared knowledge, collective memory and social structures. If nation and community can be ‘imagined’ via the press, it is likely that it is equally, if not more, ‘imaginable’ via the Internet given the ability of electronic media to instantly disseminate information and to enable the audience to share in a dialogue. This illustrates the importance of the use of place, imagery and symbolism to organize communities online and also the recreation of social structures via the Internet. Turkle’s (1997) assertion, that the Internet leads to a fragmentation of identities and the instability of online belonging and relations, does not seem to fit with such online communities. There is clearly a differentiation between the practice of established social groups in the offline world creating a presence for themselves online and the creation of virtual identities that exist only in the virtual world. As the latter are not rooted in offline communities, they are more likely to be temporary. This case study, however, is not of a virtual community existing only online, but is concerned with expressing an actual community via the space provided by the Internet, so Turkle’s concerns do not necessarily apply. In fact, the use of the Internet in this example seems to display a tendency for people to group themselves together online according to offline social affiliations. While each individual interacts as an individual with any number of aspects to their identity, there is still an impulse to identify with Copts as a defined group. If we take the example of Facebook, which has become extremely popular among Egyptian students, we can see the powerful tendency to join networks that reflect their place in the offline world. It is clearly being used in this way by Copts. By 2009, Facebook had over 500 groups that identify themselves as Coptic and the larger groups had over 10,000 members each. A large proportion of these Facebook groups are associated with a figure in the clergy, a saint, a location, or a specific church. While most are religious groups used primarily for disseminating spiritual teachings, pictures and music, there is also a supportive function. For example, there are a number of groups for different professions, which post information on job openings and relevant educational opportunities. There are groups for gathering Copts in a particular country for mutual support and also for attracting support for Coptic civil organization, such as Coptic Orphans. There are few groups that identify their purpose as being secular in nature. One such group is ‘Coptic Freethinkers’,5 which is run by two people; one based in Canada and the other in Egypt. It had 175 members in 2008. The stated purpose of the group was to gather together Copts whose opinions on social and political issues often differ from those of the clergy or from

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what is perceived to be mainstream thought within the Coptic community. The group tried to privilege diversity and argued that dissent at this level does not mean they are not Coptic: Call us liberal, call us heretics, call us anything … labels don’t matter. We’re still sitting in Church beside you, and we’re still Coptic :) Do you find that people sometimes rely too heavily on the *opinions* of clergy? Do you find Church teachings on non-religious topics (i.e. social & political issues) unsubstantiated or without reason? Rather than trying to opt out of belonging to a Coptic identity, this group is asking for diversity in the understanding of this identity and implies that this diversity is an inherent aspect that has been ‘forgotten’: What has happened to our liberal Coptic thought? The group categorizes itself as a religious group on Facebook and its main picture is an arm showing the cross that Copts traditionally have tattooed on their wrist. However, according to the group creator, there is no religious objective to the group and he categorizes the content as being social and political in nature. The discourse of the group is not about separating from the Coptic community but about creating a place for expression that permits deviation from mainstream discourse, which the group perceives as being defined by the Church. This also implies that they do not believe it necessarily has to be defined by the Church, despite categorizing the group as a religious one. This is interesting in terms of understanding the distinctions and assumptions made about what Copticness means. This suggests that belonging to the Coptic Orthodox denomination is central but that it is not the only definition nor that the Church leaders alone define Copticness. The group talks about diversity on social and political issues in a way that is asking for the support and positive discussion of Coptic identity as a cultural identity. This seems to support the argument that the Internet is a platform for debate, if not immediate and direct social or political change. According to the group creator: I think there’s a disconnect between the traditional Coptic media and what a minority of Coptic youths need. We don’t have any forums for liberal Coptic thought, where Copts can discuss their thoughts and opinions freely. In this sense, the Internet is viewed as a space of which any individual can take ownership, particularly the younger generation who, in normal offline social hierarchies, have less of a voice. The content of the group’s narratives indicates the fact that Copts view the Church as a framework for the community. They also identify the lack of spaces for expression outside the

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Church and the difficulty involved in creating them. Coptic Facebook groups, websites, message groups and forums offer an interactive and organizational tool, for example, for arranging meetings, requesting prayer for an individual or a cause, and also highlighting certain social and political issues. By offering a voice, support, friendship, resources and a space for expression, they are able to create, challenge and reinforce relationships and offline activities. Almost all of the other groups on Facebook are religious sites and, like the majority of Coptic websites, are mainly concerned with providing accurate information about the Coptic faith and with providing spiritual materials. The creator of one Coptic Facebook group called Christians in Assiut, which has approximately 700 members, stated that his purpose in establishing this group was to: Distribute accurate Coptic news and information without it being distorted by the non-Christian media and to reinforce religious values through sayings, sermons and stories of the Church fathers. This again illustrates the concern of many Copts with fulfilling the specific faith needs of the community and also in representing it accurately in the media. Although there are alternative discourses visible online, as illustrated by the Coptic Freethinkers, it is also clear that this stream is either submerged or marginalized online by the majority trend. This limited ability to have an impact online is confirmed by Jones (1999: 63), whose research indicates that, even if participation by women and other underrepresented groups increases, it may have little effect on the character and tone of online groups in which they still constitute a minority. Newcomers to online forums enter environments with pre-existing norms and patterns of behaviour. This suggests that in this case study the Internet, far from being an equalizer, may potentially stifle diversity by increasing the ability of a dominant discourse within Coptic circles to claim legitimacy and become normalized among a broader audience. This pressure emerges not only from those in power but also from within the group for unity around the Church leadership because of the community’s weaker position in general as a religious minority in Egypt and as relatively isolated within worldwide Christianity (the Coptic Orthodox Church is in communion with only the Syrian, Armenian and Ethiopian Orthodox churches). This pressure, coupled with the inevitable weighting of access to technology towards the community leaders, seems to better explain why Coptic cyberspace is often corporate and based around a church or run by groups within the Church leadership or the community’s elite, rather than individuals, for example through blogs.

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The function of online Coptic media: minority or particularistic? The question of whether Coptic media is minority media or better described as particularistic has special relevance due to the widespread sensitivity felt by Copts, and indeed all Egyptians, towards linking Copts with the label ‘minority’. This is due to the way the use of the term can impose on a group the category of ‘outsider’ (Fried, 1983). Both Cottle (2000) and Riggins (1992) use the term ‘minority media’ as a category in their work, but the emphasis of their work and the case studies presented is on groups that are excluded or underrepresented in mainstream media, not so much on the fact of their being a minority. In this sense, their findings could equally apply to groups that are not minorities and using the label ‘minority’ places the focus in a less helpful place because use of the term presents the experience of being a minority as the decisive factor. Van Dijk (1988; 1991) also uses the term ‘minority media’ to describe groups with a lack of access to media or representation that is weak, passive or negative. Again, the key idea is a group’s disenfranchisement rather than being a minority defined in terms of a majority other. For this reason, and because of the sensitivity towards the label ‘minority’ revealed by this case study, the point emphasized here is the particularistic nature of Coptic media, meaning a specialized form of media for a particular group to fulfil a need. The content of such media will usually reflect an aspect of identity that may be underrepresented, or misrepresented, in mainstream media. It is often a minority or disenfranchised group that lacks access and influence in mainstream media but this is not the main issue. The point is a lack of power or the recognition of specific perspective that differentiates it from ‘mainstream’ media. Consequently, any study of particularistic media should be conceptualized in the context of social movements that are usually entwined with its operation (Van Dijk, 1997: 12). As Mills (2002) notes, the Internet has played a pivotal role in assisting indigenous minorities, such as the Kurds, to circumvent restrictions placed upon their ability to express and perform their community identity and heritage. Research has shown that minority groups are often dissatisfied with their ability to access mainstream media and the resources available to produce their own, as well as their representation in mainstream media (Cottle, 2000: 24–25). One of the functions of particularistic media then is to fill gaps in the provision of mainstream media. For example, until recently Coptic liturgies were not broadcast in full on mainstream Egyptian television or radio, but the Coptic Orthodox Church now has three television channels, Agape, St Mark and CTV, which broadcast liturgies daily via the Internet and satellites and whose programming is under the direction of the Church. In this way Coptic media acts as a compensatory channel. Promoting separate Coptic media channels through newspapers sold inside churches, satellite television channels and online media, does not encourage Coptic

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participation in national media but it can in some way contribute to compensating for a sense of invisibility in the public sphere. In the physical spaces of Cairo, Copts face some restrictions on the basis of religion. For example, traditionally a church cannot be built within a certain distance of a mosque and may not be taller than any nearby mosque. Furthermore, ringing Church bells is considered provocative in many parts of Egypt. The Internet can afford the Coptic community a presence so the use of new media to broadcast sermons, play Coptic music and the celebration of Coptic heritage and faith could be considered as an alternative to bell ringing, announcing their presence audibly and visually without the restrictions that exist in the physical world. Creating a Coptic cyberspace may also provide a vital platform for a community that is restricted from expanding their physical presence as a result of restrictions on church building and repair in Egypt. The Internet offers fellowship and the ability to expand ‘congregations’, without the need to build a physical church or the risk of meeting in an unlicensed building. Furthermore, it crosses boundaries to reach out to the diaspora and reconnect them with homeland and ‘mother church’. In these ways, the Internet enables Copts to proclaim their presence and raise awareness of their heritage and identity. These are common strategies among minority groups or groups that perceive themselves to be under threat (Worchel, 1999: 6). The media plays a dynamic role in this process because the ‘media imperative’ is vital in the modern world for the survival of disempowered groups competing for resources (Riggins, 1992: 3, 11). In this way, the needs of a community and its use of media are intertwined and together can shape community discourses around the experience of belonging. Apart from giving a community visibility, particularistic media also gives the community itself, or at least its leadership, control over how it is represented. This is clearly imperative for a community that perceives itself as excluded or misrepresented in mainstream media, and thus the public sphere. There is huge sensitivity among Copts about the way they are portrayed in the Egyptian media. As well as the perceptions of inaccuracy and bias in the press discussed previously, there are also fears, among both Coptic and Muslim circles, that the way Coptic characters are used in the media and entertainment could increase sectarian tensions. The emphasis on using media to increase visibility in the public sphere seems to be confirmed in my research, in that making people aware of the Coptic faith and community is a goal that 66.9 per cent of respondents felt should be undertaken by Coptic media. However, this is a peripheral role; just 8.8 per cent stated that this should be the main purpose of Coptic media. Rather, observations and survey data suggest that the main goal at present is supporting the community to become stronger internally in order to seek rights and recognition and preserve an identity that is perceived as threatened and excluded. As these respondents wrote:

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Coptic online spaces Most Copts are not positive and not really oriented with all what is happening in Egypt because of our Egyptian governmental media, so there is a must to have a Coptic media which is directly focused on Copts all over the world (Male, Egypt). There has to be media directed at Copts to explain issues of daily life to them, especially when government media does not cover such topics properly (Male, Egypt).

This would account for the support for unity around a dominant discourse, which, from this examination of the content of online media, seems to be based on ancient Egyptian heritage and the Coptic Orthodox faith as a continuation of that heritage. This also accounts for the emphasis on connections within the community rather than diversity, focused on a central authority in the shape of the Church leadership. The preservation of a community and ‘policing’ its boundaries (cf. Barth, 1969) is undertaken through publically adhering to dominant discourses that work as an orthodoxy affirming a sense of belonging and participation within a discourse community (Sullivan, 1999: 155). This ensures the clear representation of a community’s corporate identity and values to the out-group. This is confirmed by the research of Ginsburg et al. (2002), who describe how minority media is used to explore collective stories and histories that have been erased or submerged by national narratives. In this way a minority can ‘reclaim’ its identity, take control of the representation of its community and seek to strengthen the position of the community by revitalizing and organizing individual members around a core discourse of identity and heritage based on a collective consciousness. Riggins’ (1992) research illustrates this strategic use of new media to revitalize a community. He found that the Inuits of North America used satellite television to bypass traditional community leadership structures and to revitalize their communities by preserving Inuit culture as a form of political mobilization. This is just one example of appropriation of new telecommunications by indigenous peoples to re-imagine social identity and to take control of their politics of representation and cultural authenticity. This can preserve and strengthen community identity and heritage and Riggins found that this empowerment can result in the increased integration of the minority group into society. In the Coptic case, the increase in Coptic media that was part of the phase of reawakening of Coptic identity and reinforcement of Coptic heritage, has tended to foster a withdrawal from society into the Church and has placed emphasis on the boundaries between religious communities in Egypt. Rather than integrating Coptic identity into the national consciousness it has cordoned it off. This is manifested in the construction of separate Coptic media spaces, in contrast to the integration of Coptic media that characterized the national media space before 1950.

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The ability to articulate and define the needs of the community and to communicate them using the media as a channel, are two influential steps for any identity movement that aims to raise its profile and secure its rights (Sreberny-Mohammedi et al., 1997: 249). However, limiting this communication to specialized media and the failure to penetrate mainstream media can adversely affect an identity group trying to improve its status within a nation state paradigm for several reasons. Particularistic media has a small audience and is often poorly distributed (Riggins, 1992: 14–15). This can lead to a reduction in shared knowledge and a reduced tolerance for the ‘other’. This can trigger a community’s withdrawal into itself, leaving the public space to be constructed by others, much as the Copts have done in withdrawing into the Church as an alternative social sphere. So in the case of the Copts it appears that particularistic media contributes to some extent to isolationism. The dilemma of particularistic media is then that it is useful for providing for a community’s specific needs, yet by doing so can serve to marginalize it further, as shown by research on Aboriginal media in Australia (Riggins, 1992: 77). This poses questions regarding the usefulness of specialist Coptic media in promoting inclusiveness. Even while seeking to support the empowerment of the idea of a Coptic community, one of the side effects of specialist media could be to entrench ‘intellectual ghettoization’ by acting as a vehicle for increased or continued marginalization (Riggins, 1992: 77, 282). In fact, the role of particularistic media in reinforcing a sense of isolation was identified by some respondents to the surveys for media users when commenting on the disadvantages of producing Coptic media. For example: Copts should not live in a Coptic ‘bubble’ or isolate themselves. They should be fully integrated into the society which they exist (Egyptian citizens, American citizens, etc.) (Male, Canada) I think the media should be for Copts in Spiritual topics, but for all people in all the other social issues, as we r living in Egypt, we r in engaged in the Egyptian social life so the media should show the goods and the worse [sic]. (Male, Egypt/Oman) They indicate that while Coptic media should be produced, the hope is that Coptic media can prevent marginalization rather than contribute to it. As one respondent mentioned, limiting the audience of Coptic-produced media to Copts alone does not benefit them: It is important for Copts to produce electronic media … NOT specifically JUST for Copts … Copts have had a hard time converting people outside of their cultural norms because of close minded traditions … Many missionary groups have been formed to ensure our voices be heard to the 90% of the people in the world that have no idea what Coptic orthodoxy is. (Female, USA)

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In an interview with Watani’s editor, Yusef Sidhom, he repeatedly emphasized the point that media should be produced about Coptic issues but not exclusively for Copts and by Copts, as this prevents integration and mutual understanding. He felt that Copts have tended to isolate themselves and come to rely on the Church for everything and this has been detrimental. Despite such concerns, according to the surveys 71 per cent of users and 76.9 per cent of producers believe that Copts should have their own electronic media sources. When asked to explain why there should be particularistic Coptic media, the answers given can be broadly categorized into four main areas. The first category is the fulfilment of spiritual needs. Coptic media supports particular needs, specifically spiritual ones that would not otherwise be fulfilled by mainstream media. Since the printing press was introduced to Egypt, the production of Coptic publications has formed a defining aspect of the service and activity of the Coptic Church. There has been an organic development of the use of new communications technology to extend the Church’s dual role of teaching and overseeing the Coptic community: [The main benefit of the Internet is] reaching my kids on [sic] Sunday school easily. (Male, Egypt) It is good to trust a source of information to relay the true teaching of the Coptic Church to the next generation. This is only done if Copts who are faithful to the teaching of their church start to produce media by and for Copts. (Male, USA) Because most [sic] everyone now uses the internet, electronic media will help Coptic Kids/Teens/and even Adults utilize their religion/culture online. (Male, Egypt) The second category is the preservation of Coptic identity and heritage. According to the administrator of the forum Freecopts.com, the main objective of this forum, which has an average of 250,000 visitors per month and over 7,000 subscribers, is to revive Coptic identity and culture. The Internet is perceived to be a way around censorship, although it is acknowledged that the audience is reduced by the digital divide. Despite the limitations placed on the ability to reach out to all Copts, a number of the survey answers suggest that Copts view having their own media as a tool to preserve Coptic heritage and identity. Identity is constructed through relationships and reinforced through the promotion of a collective consciousness and ideas of heritage. The Copts have adapted the Internet to support both of these functions: Because the media here in Egypt it talk [sic] all the time to the Moslems and without declare [sic] that there is another people in the same country didn’t belong to these religion [sic] and that’s not only for the Christian it’s for anyone not Moslem. (Male, Egypt)

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As I am only 12 I want to know more about the world and more about my religion, I unfortunately live in Saudi Arabia so I can’t contact any religious monk however I ask other Copts using MSN about my questions. (Female, Saudi Arabia) Coptic media is seen as a channel for expression and a means to increase the visibility of the Copts. Increasing the visibility of a community and having a channel to articulate its needs are key aspects of empowering any community to preserve itself, particularly one that feels isolated from the public sphere or disenfranchised from national consciousness by a majority, or other dominant group: I think it is essential to our identity as a culture and a community to separate ourselves from the Arab majority. (Female, USA) The third category is for missionary purposes. The Coptic community is a Christian group that has historically played a significant role in evangelism and in the development of the early Church and Christian doctrine. Many individual Copts and the Coptic Church continue to attach great importance to evangelism as an aspect of their faith and of their heritage. For this reason, Copts place emphasis on electronic media as a tool for the evangelism of non-Copts. This is particularly the case for a number of the diaspora-based groups. One respondent described the importance of Coptic electronic media: To let all Copts in the world know what is truly going on in the church and to give our perspective of events and church practices to the world. Most importantly to evangelize. (Male, USA) According to the answers of the website administrator for the Coptic Orthodox Diocese of the Southern United States (suscopts.org), while the original aim of their website was to provide information for Copts, they later became aware of the demand for information from those outside the Coptic community. The Internet has therefore become part of the Church’s outreach strategy which, in the experience of this website, has specific advantages: Another advantage is to evangelize about the Coptic faith to all those interested without applying pressure. It is up to the user to decide what to read or how much information to gather and provide a comfortable environment for the user. The final category is the control of group representation and accuracy in the media. One of the criticisms levelled at the portrayal of Copts in the mainstream press and media is that it has often been inaccurate

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or stereotypical. It is redressing these inaccuracies and giving a platform to Copts that is the aim of forums such as the Coptic Rights Forum, a forum that has over 16,000 visitors per month. Using such tools, Coptic media gives the community the means to speak for itself. Controlling the accuracy of the representation of Copts protects the community boundaries, the content of Coptic heritage constructed and experienced within community boundaries and strengthens the position of the Coptic community in its relations with other communities: Yes, when media is produced by Copts we make sure to put everything factually, while leaving it to others might give some a chance to distort or fabricate facts. (Survey answer, Copts.co.uk) There is a general ignorance among Muslims regarding Coptic issues so in this sense Coptic media is useful in increasing awareness. (Survey answer, Wataninet.org) There is a strong interest in raising awareness of what is being produced in the mainstream media about Copts and issues concerning them. There are now several dedicated electronic groups and sites that compile all the stories related to Copts in the press. For example, Copt Real has a website, a Yahoo group and a Facebook group and uses all three to highlight articles concerning Copts published in the Egyptian press. Another website employing similar methods for similar purposes is Coptic-news.com. The Coptic Cultural Centre, an organization of mainly secular Copts in Egypt, also has a media-monitoring project. Each day they scan articles pertaining to the portrayal of Copts in the Egyptian media from Egyptian newspapers and post them on their website without comment. They also distribute them via the Yahoo group Arbible. The diaspora group Copts United performs a similar service, although it concentrates mainly on television media. It produces video files which can be viewed on their website and downloaded and is mainly focused on highlighting the problems of Copts in Egypt. Copts United also uploads its own coverage of Coptic news in Egypt, particularly videos and pictures of sectarian incidents. Finally, the newspaper Watani irregularly publishes a very brief summary of some of the stories relating to Copts that have been published in the Egyptian press and provides a short commentary on this representation. The ability to collect and disseminate such material via the Internet gives Coptic media a global reach. In light of the work of such websites and groups that are based both in Egypt and the diaspora, one of the major features of electronic media that should be highlighted here is the ability to communicate and form communities online regardless of national borders. Thus while Coptic media may be exclusive, electronic media is on the other hand enabling Copts inside Egypt to connect with Copts in the diaspora, thereby broadening this particularistic communicative space. This is new dynamic that is having an impact on understandings of Copticness and

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experiences of Coptic belonging both for the diaspora and for Copts in Egypt. Sheffer (2003: 180) sees the growth of communications technology and the development of ethno-national diasporas as interconnected phenomena because new media has the potential to strengthen diaspora identity. A community physically fragmented by location can connect simultaneously and create a relationship around a connection (Castells, 2004). In this case, the content indicates that the connection is Copticness, a mixture of belonging to the Coptic Orthodox Church and to a national identity. In her research on media and the Palestinian diaspora in the United Kingdom, Matar (2007) notes that most of her interviewees self-identified as Palestinians and that the meaning of being Palestinian as a national identity was a major concern. In my case study it is significant to note that we are talking about a Coptic diaspora, not an Egyptian one. In Arabic, the term Aqbat al-Mahgar, migrant Copts, is a familiar term in the Egyptian media and is how diaspora Copts refer to themselves in Arabic. This indicates that, as a whole, Copts feel their diaspora community is defined by their Copticness. This is not to the exclusion of their Egyptianness but perhaps rather that using the latter would not give full meaning to the former. Thus the boundary of religious difference is replicated in the diaspora. There is no comparable media presence for equivalent terms such as Egyptian diaspora or Muslim Egyptian migrants (al-Youm al-Saba’a, 12 April 2002). According to Botros (2006: 180), Coptic diasporic narratives focus on ancient Egypt and the origins of the Coptic faith for positioning themselves vis-à-vis their host societies and to obtain a sense of prestige that acts, in Bourdieu’s terminology, as symbolic capital (Harrison, 1995: 268). This distinguishes them from other Middle Easterners, from Arabs and Muslims, and affirms the ancient origins of their Christianity. It also distinguishes them from other Egyptians so religious discourses of Coptic identity serve needs of the community to strengthen collective consciousness and differentiate from Muslims. This seems to confirm Sheffer’s argument that, ‘it is still difficult to detach religious sentiments and belief from other cultural elements that constitute the primordial components of diaspora identity’ (2003: 66). However, while the emphasis appears to be on religion, it is the intertwining of religion and national Coptic heritage, as visible in online sites, that reinforces the construction of the Coptic diaspora as a kind of national or ethno-religious diaspora. Pharonic heritage and Coptic Christianity are highlighted because Coptic is not a national identity in the sense that there is no Coptic state. But as Botros notes, Coptic diaspora narratives focus on the pre-Arab era when Egypt could be described as a Coptic nation. This represents a temporal dislocation to an earlier historical period when Copts consider they did have ethno-political dominance. So while the electronic media extends connections around Copticness beyond the Egyptian national border it also serves to emphasize territorial

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boundaries as signifying a crucial element in the idea of Coptic heritage and belonging.

Connecting the national and the virtual There are clearly Coptic spaces taking shape online but a difficult question to answer is whether these spaces have any relevance for daily social and political life for Copts. Critics of the potential of the Internet emphasize the difficulties in determining whether electronic media does translate into action offline. The events of the 25 January revolution silenced the critics somewhat, if only temporarily. Even before the revolution we had the examples of campaigns against harassment of women and police torture, highlighting the power of the solidarity created after the death of Khalid Said in June 2010 at the hands of the police, who for many represent repression by the state (cf. Bradley, 2009). As pictures of his disfigured body spread through media channels, social media provided the major outlet for popular anger and frustration. In the wake of this popular anger the Facebook group ‘We are all Khalid Said’ was created. This group was to become one of the hubs of activism prior to, during and after the 25 January protests. In this incident the multiple factors at the heart of socio-economic and political frustrations found a uniting symbolism and slogan. This was clear from the placards being carried and slogans sprayed onto walls in Cairo during the demonstrations, which bore the phrase, ‘We are all Khalid Said’. The date 25 January coincided with National Police Day, giving the protests particular resonance in the wake of the Khalid Said incident. This explains why a call to protest on 25 January that first went out through social media was picked up and adopted and spread further in the street. The momentum did not exist only online, but there was an interaction between street and cyber activism. These examples illustrate the fact that the Internet itself does not change things but that it has the capacity to contribute to debate, the dissemination of information, and to increase diversity of voices. But as we have seen, the way the Internet has been used in Egypt emerged out of the offline political climate (Rinke and Roeder, 2011: 1275). The aims of users are not created virtually, but the users employ online spaces to further their aims and meet the needs that stem from their daily lived experiences. This perhaps explains why the findings of the preceding discussion indicate that the expansion of online spaces and channels for dissemination of information has not directly led to increased diversity of dissenting voices within Coptic online spaces. Furthermore it must be recognized that the discourses seen on social media represent the voices of the minority of the Egyptian population that actively use these media channels. Clearly, despite the potential the Internet appears to offer, it is necessary to also set out its limitations to aid the assessment of the Internet’s contribution in the context of Coptic social

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and political structures. One limitation is restricted access, also known as the digital divide. This is a result of several factors. Norris (2001) found that the factors affecting access to electronic media include occupation, education, gender and generation, but states that gender is the weakest factor. The gender gap is borne out by my survey results: 63.4 per cent of the respondents were male and 32.7 per cent were female. Although the gap between the genders was smaller among respondents residing outside Egypt, it was still apparent. According to Egyptian academic Mariz Tadros, this uneven access to media and discourse is reflected in the Coptic Orthodox Church, which has a limited number of roles and channels for the expression of female Coptic voices.6 There also appears to be a gender gap in Egypt as a whole. According to the website Socialbakers, which gathers statistics on Facebook usage, in March in 2011, 63 per cent of Facebook users in Egypt were male and 37 per cent female.7 There is also a generational gap involved in access to new technology. Among the respondents to my survey, 34.7 per cent were aged between 19 and 25 and 24.7 per cent between 26 and 35; 11.9 per cent were aged 36 to 45 and 9.3 per cent were aged 46 to 55, which is the same as the percentage of users under the age of 18. The jump from 9.3 per cent under the age of 18 and 34.7 per cent between the ages of 19 and 25 suggests a surge in usage among young adults and students. Overall, these results suggest that the use of Internet among the middle-aged and older generation is very much restricted to a small elite, while usage is becoming a normal aspect of daily life among younger generations, particularly among students. Hofheinz (2007: 62) indicates that Egypt has the fastest growing and largest number of Internet users in the Arab world. Estimates put the number of Internet users in Egypt in 2007 at five million, out of a population of approximately 73 million (UNDP Programme on Governance in the Arab Region, 2007) but Aouragh and Alexander point to a trend of massive growth in Internet use and suggest that a majority of the Egyptian population will be Internet users within ten years (2011: 1347). While the number of Internet users in Egypt is increasing rapidly, there is an uneven spread of technology. According to the Program of Governance in the Arab Region (POGAR) the population penetration of the Internet in Egypt in 2007 was 6.90 per cent. This put Egypt slightly below the average of 7.38 per cent for the Middle East region, while between 2000 and 2007 usage grew by 1011.1 per cent in Egypt, which is above the region’s average of 846.85 per cent. This explains the statistics released by Egypt’s Ministry of Communication and Information Technology in February 2011, which suggest that Internet penetration increased from 21.91 per cent in January 2010 to 30.05 per cent in January 2011.8 Penetration of the Internet remains uneven because of the economic and social gap between urban centres such as Cairo and Alexandria and the Egyptian countryside, which is comparatively undeveloped. In 2006, the rural population comprised 57 per cent of the total population (UNESCO, 2008) and

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in rural areas, particularly in Upper Egypt, literacy tends to be lower among both men and women. Awad Baseet, the managing editor of al-Katiba alTibia, cites the lack of access to technology in Upper Egypt as the main barrier in reaching out to Copts via the newspaper’s website, and the resulting need to ensure that there is both a printed and an electronic version of the newspaper. On the other hand, the Internet enables the paper to reach an audience who cannot obtain printed copies, such as Copts in the diaspora. As Isherwood (2008) points out, ‘there are fewer Internet users than there are TV viewers, but Internet users have truly global access compared to a more local or regional set of programs that one receives on television’. These examples illustrate how the Internet can broaden the audience in one direction while simultaneously restricting it in another. These statistics and my interviews with media producers and journalists, echo the sentiment that, while the Internet is becoming more influential as a channel for Coptic voices, it is still limited in impact because of the digital divide, as well as by the problems of censorship and self-censorship. Social, economic and cultural factors contribute to the lack of full representation of the diversity among the Coptic community, as well as the Egyptian population as a whole.9 Therefore, while the Internet enables those Copts with access to the Internet to engage and debate with their community in a more reflexive way than the press does, it is unable to overcome the limited capacity of all elements of the Coptic community to participate, thus limiting the potential of the Internet in terms of contributing to equalizing access to media and challenging social hierarchies. New media can allow individuals to bypass the traditional gatekeepers to information but this is not automatic. The Internet is what those who are actively using the Internet make it and so cannot be assumed to be inherently democratic. As Price et al. note, ‘Free and independent media, however, are not a good in themselves, but only in as much as they support each other, more intrinsic values and goals’ (2002: 12). This explains why the political impact of all forms of media is complex and the relationship is always shaped by the interaction of a number of localized variables (Gunther and Mughan, 2000). An important variable is the policy of the ruling authority towards the Internet and its use of new technology because new media can be co-opted by the state in just the same way as traditional media channels. On 18 April 2011, Freedom House released its Freedom on the Net report. According to this report, ‘In countries where the authorities had already shown some tendency toward politically motivated controls over the internet, the negative trend accelerated dramatically, and new institutions were created specifically to carry out censorship’ (Kelly and Cook, 2011: 2). As well as censorship, the report refers to the arrest of Internet users, dwindling spaces for free expression and claims that, ‘authorities have turned to cyber attacks, misinformation, and other indirect methods to alter the information landscape’ (2011: 3). Such trends are the

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basis for Morozov’s The Net Delusion (2011) in which he re-examines the Internet’s potential as a tool for liberalization. Furthermore, while the Internet is increasing access for some it is not necessarily representative. Nevertheless, the high-profile role that electronic and particularly social media played in the 25 January revolt forced the Egyptian state to reconsider its view on the real-world impact of activism on the Internet. Prior to these events, Internet networks and activists had been ridiculed by the state, an attitude which was summed up in a video clip of Gamal Mubarak deriding Facebook activists.10 After the resignation of Mubarak, this video clip was circulated in triumph via YouTube and Facebook. In contrast, the Supreme Council for the Armed Forces (SCAF) set up their own Facebook page after they came to power in February 2011 and all the statements they have issued have been published on this page. Less than 24 hours after being created, the page had 89,627 fans. By 15 March 2011, it had 818,107 fans. While these indications suggest that new media is developing a more powerful role, it does not prove any direct relationship with the transformation of structures of authority. Indeed, the discussion of this chapter indicates that, while the Internet does supply a mechanism for expressing new voices, it is currently unable to deliver impactful discourses because they are not necessarily able to achieve legitimacy or authority. This is largely a result of the tendency to reproduce hierarchies online and social structures in the virtual Coptic space. This enabled the Church voice to appear strongest online. Consequently, while the study of Copts online is a valid and new area of enquiry that has its own significance, within Egypt the press can be considered as more important in discussions of national belonging. Press discourses circulate nationally, unlike Coptic online media which circulates within the Coptic community only. The Internet contributes to belonging in the diaspora and connecting Copts in and outside Egypt more closely and immediately than ever before, which has perhaps contributed to a greater consciousness of the Coptic community as a worldwide flow of relations. The network seems thus far to remain centred on the tangible place of Egypt and the person of the Coptic Pope.

Conclusion The heated debate over the effect of new media on the Arab Spring has perhaps missed the point that the way media is used is specific to each situation and is never fixed because it is shaped by the people who use it and also how they adopt and make use of new developments in technology. The key role of social media is perhaps not to replace traditional media or to act as an alternative political sphere but rather to focus on ensuring that traditional media are transparent and do not continue to be dominated by state propaganda (Iskander and Monir, forthcoming, 2012). Similarly Armbrust argues that new forms of media do not replace older ones but add to the

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mediascape and contribute to the evolving of new functionalities (2009: 157). Since the Internet in itself cannot create dissent or change, the way it is used and by whom is a more crucial question than whether the Internet, abstracted from specific contexts, has the potential to democratize or contribute to social change. Since mediated communication is embedded in social contexts, it follows that media will tend towards operating within the hierarchies and relationships of the real world. This is because it is normally the leadership of the community which has the resources to produce media and also tends to be accorded legitimacy by the community itself to define identity and promote the community and its needs. This explains the ability of the traditional community leaders, which for Copts generally means the Church leadership, to reproduce their positions of power online. Since Coptic Internet spaces are a platform for constructing online communities and not simply for distributing mass media, the relations and discourses that emerge from existing offline social structures are the main source for recreating Coptic communities online. Because they are a particularistic space, unlike the press, the actors and discourses are different to those witnessed in the national Egyptian press. In national media, Copts write as individuals, not as Copts for Copts, whereas in Coptic Internet spaces the actors and content are more closely related to those in the particularistic Coptic press, embodied in the newspapers al-Katiba al-Tibia and Allam al-Mashaheer, the Church publications, in particular al-Keraza, and to a slightly lesser extent, Watani. In other words, the Church and the spiritual aspect of Coptic identity are foregrounded in Coptic particularistic media, whether online or offline and actors are speaking as Copts to Copts. The Church then represents the main actor in this particularistic media. Specialized media may also lead towards increased isolation by providing a parallel space to the public sphere in which to experience belonging and construct discourses. According to Dayan (in Liebes and Curran, 1998), particularistic media is internally cohesive but tends to encourage remoteness from society at large. If Coptic particularistic media follows this pattern, it is likely that its main focus will be on religious discourses of belonging and will reflect a retreat to church media spaces rather than an engagement with mainstream media and therefore the public sphere and discourses of national belonging. As the new IT-literate generation enter public and professional life and technology becomes more widespread, it is likely that the Internet will become an increasingly influential medium for the future of the Coptic community, its relations and its discourses. For this reason, the debates and discourses of belonging via CMC have the potential to shape the community and its relations in the future, whether by confirming the new generation’s acceptance of the present hierarchy or by their challenging and decentralizing of it. Electronic media has shed light on some of the diverse discourses currently submerged in a particularistic Coptic media sphere, largely managed by the Church leadership. This and the impact of the diaspora through

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electronic media have yet to be demonstrated empirically. However, online media, particularly that of the diaspora and the interactive forums, will form part of the discussions within this book as crucial areas for ongoing investigation into constructions of Copticness and belonging. Finally, the way media is used and by whom, as well as its tangible impact, will inevitably be shaped by broader political events and socio-economic development.

Part II

Copts and national representation in the Mubarak–Shenouda era

4

The Coptic Orthodox Church as a media and political actor

The purpose of this chapter is to examine how and why the Church became such a visible political and media actor representing Copts as a group to the nation. The examination begins with an analysis of the Church as a political actor and its changing role in the historical context of national sociopolitical challenges and the dynamics of the relationship between religion and politics within this public space because, ‘neither media nor their environments can be understood properly without reference to the other’ (Rugh, 2004: 256). If we consider the Church to be the central political actor, or at least one of the most significant, for the Coptic community, it is essential to analyse how the official Church–state media discourse represents the Copts and the belonging of Church and Coptic community within the nation state. This will illustrate how the discourse of Copticness has been managed and negotiated within the physical space of the Church and communicated at the national level. Finally, the chapter considers how the Church managed the social and media spaces of the Coptic community during the first decade of the twenty-first century, with a particular focus on the Internet and the Coptic diaspora. This will indicate if and why the Church was accepted, by the community in general, as the legitimate political and media actor for Copts.

The emergence of the Church as a social and political actor Much has been written on the emergence and influence of Islamic revival on Egyptian politics and media but, as demonstrated, the Coptic Church experienced a parallel revival that manifested itself in its internal social organization, political role and media development (O’Mahony, 2010). Until the 1950s, the Coptic press of the elite, rather than the Coptic Church, was the more audible voice of the Coptic community and the social and political issues of the Coptic community were dealt with through the British, the Khedive or the press and via the Coptic elite (Carter, 1986: 31). The Coptic elite were prominent in the government in the Wafd party and also in the media and acted as the social or political voice of the Coptic community (el-Feki, 1991). Therefore, in the nineteenth century, the Coptic elite was

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often more visible in national political life than the Church leaders (Meinardus, 1999: 74). This public role and influence later shifted away from the lay elite to the Church for several reasons. The first reason is the fragmentation of the Wafd party that formerly had acted as a vehicle for Copts to reach prominent political positions. Internal dissent and the waning of the 1919 ‘cross and crescent’ movement that peaked during the resistance movement against the British protectorate gradually eroded the political base of the Coptic elite. Second, the July revolution of 1952 brought about changes in the social and political climate. It consolidated the trend that moved Egyptian political rhetoric away from Egyptianism and liberal parliamentary democracy, to Arab nationalism and Arab socialism. The suppression of multiparty politics and the censorship of the media took away the two key channels that Copts had come to rely upon for visibility in the public sphere. This affected all, regardless of religion, but it particularly shook the confidence of Copts in their ability to play a substantial role in Egyptian public life. As well as the change in the social and political climate, Nasser introduced land reforms. The Coptic elite’s wealth was largely found in land ownership, so these reforms altered the balance of power (al-Manawi, 2005: 153). Thus the Nasser period that followed the revolution not only served to disenfranchise Copts from their positions of power but also to reduce the wealth that had afforded them this mobility to rise to prominence in the public sphere. As a result, emigration from among the educated Coptic elite was disproportionally high and this changed the dynamics not only of the Coptic community but also the relationship between the Church and the state (Asa’ad, 1993: 48). These changes combined to weaken the role of the Coptic elite and the Church positioned itself to fill the gap they had left (Hasan, 2003: 103). This repositioning was eased by the growing perception that the elite could, or would, no longer represent Coptic interests in the public sphere and that the Church was their only voice. Even during the Wafd period, Coptic politicians did not solve the dilemma of how to meet the expectations of Copts that they would prioritize Coptic issues, while at the same time attempting to prove themselves as representatives of all Egyptians in order to win popular election and bolster a political system based on belonging to the nation rather than a religious community. As a result, Coptic politicians faced criticism for both neglecting Coptic needs (Carter, 1986: 151) and for acting as communal rather than national representatives (el-Feki, 1991: 92). Pope Shenouda himself has also pointed to the fact that the elite strengthened the position of the Church by criticizing the Church without acting for the benefit of the community and therefore lost their popularity because they were seen as destructive of Coptic interests (al-Manawi, 2005: 151). The new ability of the Church to step in and fill this gap left by the secular elite was a key development. The reforms that had begun in the Church in the 1940s, including the establishment of the Sunday School

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Movement and the concerted efforts made to revive Coptic heritage in the popular consciousness of the community, put in place the framework needed for the Church leadership to play a broader role in Coptic life (Hasan, 2003). Since Shenouda (who was one of the prominent figures to have emerged from this revival period of the 1940s) became the patriarch in 1971, the clergy has expanded dramatically and the numbers of monks in Egypt’s monasteries, a major site in Coptic cultural production, have grown. According to O’Mahony (2010: 75), in 1971 there were 23 bishops and 200 monks, whereas in 2001 there were 49 bishops and 1,200 monks. As well as increasing the size of the Church hierarchy, the Church has become more clericalized and more centralized.1 One of the key areas in which the media played a role in this reform process was in disseminating standardized materials on Coptic teachings, language, history and hagiographies, thus creating a powerful symbolic discourse (Asa’ad, 1993: 77). This centralization and expanded dissemination of standardized information underpinned a collective consciousness and created a shared discursive approach to the meaning and interpretation of Copticness. It also centralized media production around the Church. It was under Shenouda that the weekly Papal address was instituted. This is now broadcast online and via satellite television every week. Pope Shenouda wrote a weekly column in Watani and in al-Ahram, as well as publishing the official monthly newsletter al-Keraza. Consequently, the central authority around which the community is connected becomes the Patriarch (cf. Castells, 2004). Through centralizing authority and using communications technology, Shenouda’s voice was regularly and publically heard, not only within the immediate church space of the Cathedral in Abassiya, but also in the national and international Coptic community and even the Egyptian national space. Thus the media enabled Pope Shenouda to become a much more visible and vocal patriarch than previous heads of the Coptic Church were able to be. All of these developments enabled the Church to expand its authority in the collective consciousness of the Coptic community and to increase mobilization around a single collective understanding of Coptic Christian identity. Hasan (2003: 201) suggests that, ‘the church is the social space where one receives one’s true identity and that spaces that exclude it are a negation of Coptic patrimony’. To reinforce this, the Church runs programmes of social, educational and cultural activities within the church space and under the auspices of the clergy. As a consequence there is an expectation that the Church should play a role in socializing youth into the faith and Coptic heritage, as well in providing social services and activities. During my visits to Coptic Churches I observed the multiple activities, educational, spiritual and social, that take place on and within the church space. For example, some churches provide a pharmacy or computing facilities on site as well as a social meeting place. The Church has become a parallel space to national social and political space so, as Hasan (2003: 209)

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writes, ‘Under Pope Shenouda the Church is a rallying place for Copts, where they can reaffirm their collective identity’. These developments within the Coptic Church, in combination with the political and social context in Egypt have facilitated the expansion of the Church’s social space by reinforcing its symbolic capital (cf. Bourdieu, 1989). The momentum that the revival movement and Pope Shenouda’s reforms created naturally pushed the Church to take advantage of new technology to continue to promote and disseminate Coptic culture, faith and heritage. This use of new media is particularly important to the Church in order to reach out to the Coptic youth and socialize them into the Coptic heritage deemed appropriate by the Church and to ensure its continued authority. This also encourages the community to place authority in the Church and legitimize its central role in Coptic life. Furthermore, as the church space expands, the services this space offers increase, while at the same time the tendency to rely on this space and the institution that it administers also increases. This can be counter-productive for the participation of Copts in politics as Egyptians, illustrating the dilemma that can be observed throughout this research and through research on ethnic minority media in general (Riggins, 1992). Setting up a particularistic social space or communicative space can support and empower a community while, at the same time, it entrenches difference and complicates the integration of members of the group into a wider social structure, such as a national identity. Contradictory approaches in the way in which religion and politics are mixed and expressed within the public sphere often serve to contribute to such tensions and prevent the public sphere from acting as a neutral and inclusive space. That the building of churches is the biggest flashpoint for tensions between Muslims and Christians in Egypt is a physical manifestation of the contest over discursive space. The inequality in the laws governing the building of churches and mosques has been a complaint of the Coptic community for at least a century. It was listed as a central complaint by the Coptic congress held in Assiut in 1911. In another example, in July 2009 there was significant media coverage of an outbreak of violence and protests against the decision to change the name of a village in Upper Egypt. The village, which has a majority Coptic population, is called Abu Henes. Henes is the Coptic name for St John and a case was raised by a group of the village’s Muslim inhabitants to change the name of the village to ‘Wadi el-Na’na’ (the mint valley). The Minister of Justice approved the request, which lead to large protests to prevent the implementation of the decision. Protesters criticized the decision as part of a campaign to erase Coptic heritage. The incident illustrates that symbolic control of space is crucial for a community that feels it is invisible in the public sphere and that its needs are not met by the state. In these circumstances church spaces and particularistic media obtain increased importance, as alternative and accessible spaces.

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The separate spaces created also support specific discourses that designate which narratives are permissible and where. Van Doorn-Harder and Vogt (1997) note that Coptic children are taught not to talk about Christianity in public spaces, such as in school. This process of socialization begins within the family and is supported by the Church. In Egyptian universities, there are unofficial Christian groups called ‘Usur, meaning families (al-Manawi, 2005: 193), that gather together Christian students, with the support of the Youth Bishopric. The effect of this is to keep discussions related to religion separate from the official or broader space of the universities.2 This is illustrated clearly by Oram-Edwards (2004) who described an incident when she attended a seminar held by the Church during her fieldwork. The seminar taught Coptic youth how to respond to questions asked by Muslim friends on the issue of Copts being a minority. Such an approach can protect students from conflict but it also isolates them and entrenches the boundary of difference. The motivation is to protect Coptic interaction in the public sphere in order to prevent sectarian tensions, but the result is a fear of open expressions of Copticness in public and a sense that Copticness is not included or welcome as part of the Egyptian public space. The logic of protection through public silence is mirrored in the avoidance of discussing Coptic grievances in the official media but it places the Church between Copts and wider society. This demonstrates how religious identity and discourses are controlled and performed according to the different spaces in which Egyptians interact and that the tendency for Coptic media to perform similar functions is not an anomaly. Such media can be considered as part of the community leadership’s function to guard the community boundaries and defend its welfare. In this sense the clergy are seen in a capacity that can be likened to the role of clerics in Shia Islam who are expected to give legal opinions, defend the community’s social and political interests and also function as a symbol defining the community (Nasr, 2006: 69).

The Church as a national institution: relations with the state With the existence of a boundary based on religion and guarded by the Church and also a significant proportion of Copts, the pivotal dynamic that now needs to be explored is the relationship between the Church and the state in both official and non-official media channels. This will set out how media and belonging operate within the Coptic community and how this construction of Coptic discourse slots into debates on Egyptian national identity. The Church, through being invested with legitimacy by the community as its guardian and provider of social services, in combination with the socio-political context in Egypt, is able to act as a gatekeeper for the Coptic community. Consequently, the boundary between religion and social and political life is blurred and fluid and is flexible according to the Church’s agenda vis-à-vis its relationship with the state. As Betts (1979: 160)

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argues, the continued political importance of the patriarchal office of Churches across the Middle East in representing their communities cannot be ignored. For this reason, Rowe (2003: 322) believes that the future of Christians in the Middle East will be characterized by a modern millet system that he terms ‘neo-millet’, in which political relations will be conducted between the state and the clerical or political leadership of the Christian community. This is possible because of the complex task of accommodating the traditional authoritative role of religious bodies of all faiths in Egypt, within a civil state system, which is itself a contested concept in Egypt. Because the line is unclear, it is dynamic and shifts according to social, economic and political circumstances and relations. As a result, different discourses of religion are often woven into political discourse and social interaction and can also form one of the primary bases for a community’s discourse about itself. It is not necessarily negative for faith to have a role in politics and society and religious organizations often act as a cultural and moral force that supports society. However, difficulties arise when religion and religious bodies act as a political authority because this leads to exclusive socio-political structures. First, religious figures are not democratically elected, so they do not have political legitimacy. Furthermore, they are not necessarily representative and there are not the same checks and balances on their leadership. Second, difficulties arise when political figures and parties use religion to provide legitimacy since this can result in religious affiliation becoming a determinant of political affiliation. This can give rise to sectarianism and exclusion in the public sphere. Third, complications are created when multiple religious affiliations are represented in society but one religious force becomes politically dominant. In the case of the Coptic community, the result of exclusion and withdrawal from both politics and media has been the dual effect as described above. The Church has taken on the role as political and media spokesman for the Coptic community, despite not being a political or representative body and therefore lacking credibility to many non-Coptic Christian and Muslim Egyptians in pressing its social agenda. However, the perceived exclusion of Copts from the public sphere and their withdrawal into the Church sphere strengthens the Church’s ability to play a political role. This withdrawal increases the authority of the Church leadership and affirms its role as the Coptic community’s representative while reinforcing the boundary. As a result, the Church has become a visible and strong national institution within the public space, while at the same time the Copts as a community are separate or partitioned off. This is visually represented by the enclosing of churches within high walls. Churches can be found in prominent locations throughout Egypt, so they are visible but separated from the general public space. Most churches also have a guard at the gate, literally a gatekeeper to the church space. This guard is usually a soldier provided by the state. The larger churches and cathedrals often have guards belonging to the national security services too.

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This represents a further notable feature of the place of the Church in Egyptian society today. The church space is symbolically protected by the state which polices the boundary between the church and public space. It is also defended by the Church as its own particular sphere of influence and by the Copts as a protected and inclusive space. In return, the Church has authority over the interior and is responsible for ensuring its stability and loyalty to the state, illustrating the Church–state pact as perfected under Shenouda and Mubarak. The irony is that protecting the interests of a community that is perceived as marginalized or disadvantaged in the public sphere through providing a separate space, weakens their presence in the public sphere. The public sphere consequently becomes more exclusive and less accessible for the protected community because the reinforcement of separation of public spaces on the basis of religion prevents the maintenance of neutrality within the public sphere. The Church is protected by the state because it is a national institution and as such its stability contributes to national stability. The consequences of conflict between the Church and the state for national stability were clearly illustrated during Sadat’s presidency. The sectarian violence that broke out in al-Khanka in 1972 is widely seen as the start of the worst period for Christian–Muslim relations in modern Egyptian history. This event was a turning point in relations between Sadat and Shenouda because religious narratives were openly used as a weapon by both state and Church, adding a further layer and powerful discourse to the discontent and entrenching religious narratives in political discourse and the public sphere. In the 1970s, both Shenouda and Sadat used the media to make religion more visible in the public sphere. As Hasan (2003) notes, the media under Sadat became more consciously Islamic in its programming and Islamists began to use media channels to criticize Christianity (Scott, 2010: 119). Meanwhile, Shenouda became more visible in the media and increased the number of publications being produced by the Church, including those discussing Islam. The increased expression of religious sentiments by the Church and mainstream media played a role in inflaming social tensions that were embodied in sectarian violence. Shenouda also took a vocal stance against violence towards Copts. However, the publically confrontational behaviour of both Sadat and Shenouda only served to further encourage the merging of religion and politics. As a religious minority this is politically disadvantageous for Egyptian Christians. Yet, unlike the previous Patriarch, Pope Shenouda positioned himself as the political spokesman of the Copts in the absence of a strong Coptic elite and began to intervene in political matters. This began shortly after the start of Shenouda’s papacy. In 1971, Sadat amended the constitution to include Sharia as a source of law and, in 1977, Sadat proposed introducing Sharia law provisions, which would have effectively introduced the death penalty for conversion from Islam. Pope Shenouda’s reaction was to call for a national fast among Copts and to

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organize a campaign to oppose the measure (Asa’ad, 1993: 156). Sadat failed to introduce the provisions. Another significant event in this difficult relationship between President and Patriarch came when Shenouda refused to support Sadat’s peace with Israel after the Camp David agreement. Pope Shenouda publicly refused the normalization of relations with Israel by banning Copts from making pilgrimages to Jerusalem, thus undermining Sadat (Heikel, 1988: 379). Later, Pope Shenouda announced that he was ‘cancelling’ Easter in March 1980 after a series of bomb attacks on churches. At Pope Shenouda’s first weekly address after Easter on 25 April, crowds greeted him with chants of ‘Shenouda is our president’ (Pennington, 1982: 174). Then, in a speech on 14 May, Sadat, who was also angered by the vocal protests organized by the Coptic diaspora during his visits to the USA, delivered a scathing attack on the Church leadership. He claimed that Pope Shenouda aimed to establish a Coptic nation with Assiut in Upper Egypt as the capital. It was in this speech that he declared, ‘I am the Muslim president of a Muslim country’ (Hasan, 2003: 109). Shortly after this speech, Sadat amended Article 2 of the constitution to make Sharia the main source of law. Sadat could not tolerate the Pope’s continual interference in government matters and refusal to support the state. Eventually he ordered Pope Shenouda into internal exile at a monastery in Wadi Natrun in 1981. Shenouda remained in exile until 1985, long after Sadat’s assassination in 1981, returning after the sectarian tensions that were inflamed under Sadat’s presidency began to stabilize under Mubarak. After Pope Shenouda was released from this house arrest, he pursued a very different relationship with the state. His approach became far more pragmatic, characterized by mutual support between the Patriarch and the state (McCallum, 2008). However, although the official discourse changed from the hostility of the Sadat era to one of mutual accommodation and tacit support, the same tensions remained in non-official discourses. A key illustration of the change in Church–state relations is the attitude expressed by Shenouda regarding the role of Sharia law in Article 2 of the Egyptian Constitution. Whereas Pope Shenouda had originally strongly opposed Sadat’s attempt to introduce Sharia provisions into law in 1971, 1977 and 1980, he took a very different position in the media debate about the place of Article 2 in response to Mubarak’s proposed amendments to the Constitution in 2006/07. Pope Shenouda publicly stood against those Muslims and Christians who argued in favour of removing Sharia as the principal source of law (Ramadan, 19 February 2007; al-Ahram, 17 March 2007). Pope Shenouda said that Article 2 should remain and that the Church should not get involved in this debate because it is not beneficial for social stability (State Information Service, March 2007). He also undermined the calls for amending the article by dismissing those in the diaspora pressing for the change as merely a handful of people unrepresentative of the Copts (Ramadan, 19 February 2007). Although Article 2 was not among those

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that Mubarak proposed to amend, the issue of the place of Article 2 in the Constitution and in Egyptian life in general became one of the key debates picked up by the media because it relates to Egypt’s ongoing debate over the question of national identity. For the state, Shenouda’s public support for the stability of the status quo was crucial and his statements were also published on the government information website to highlight the united position of Church and state (Bebawy, 27 February 2007). This position illustrates the accommodating approach undertaken by Church and state during the Shenouda–Mubarak era, on the basis of mutual interest in avoiding the sectarian conflict and raised profile of Islamism that characterized the Sadat years (McCallum, 2010). This was necessary if both the Church and state were to hold onto power and maintain the status quo. Allowing some measure of Sharia law to be included in the legal system was a pragmatic compromise. It gave Islamists less space to claim that the state is unislamic or to garner further support for the introduction of full Sharia and an Islamic state. It is perhaps this mutual concern of the increasing influence of Islamist groups that was behind the public support that Pope Shenouda and other high-ranking members of the Coptic Orthodox Church provided to President Mubarak and the state. Pope Shenouda even used al-Ahram to praise Mubarak for using the state institutions to ‘solve the problems of Copts that occasionally arise’ (al-Ahram, 10 February 2008). Using al-Ahram ensures that not only are his words read by Copts but also by the general population. This language evokes the president as a fatherly figure, caring for his Coptic citizens and their squabbles. Also, using the word ‘problem’ is much softer than the word persecution or clashes, which is more often employed by advocates of Coptic rights who feel that legitimate grievances are being dismissed, and not only occasionally but as a part of endemic discrimination. While al-Ahram is used by the government to circulate its messages, al-Keraza acts as the Pope’s voice to the Copts both in Egypt and the diaspora. Al-Keraza was used to highlight Pope Shenouda’s praise for Mubarak’s care of Coptic interests (al-Keraza, 17 December 2004) and to send wishes for the President’s safety and success (al-Keraza, 23 April 2004). The efforts of both leaders to avoid animosity between their offices were clear and publicity underlining good relations was a part of this strategy. This was clear from Church support for the amendments to the Constitution in 2006. A further indication of the Church–state relationship was Pope Shenouda’s public and direct support for Mubarak’s re-election as president in 2005. Pope Shenouda used al-Keraza, to send messages of support prior to the 2005 presidential election and congratulations after it. Al-Keraza is important because it acts as the Church’s official voice to the government and the Copts. Hence, it has the practice of publishing a note of thanks each time a licence is issued by the government for the building of a Church (al-Keraza, 1 August 2003; al-Keraza, 8 January 2005). It is also used to give the Church’s official stance on incidents of sectarianism or internal Church

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disputes (al-Keraza, 17 December 2004). This open support for the state and its actions in dealing with the Coptic community was common after Pope Shenouda adopted his pragmatic relationship with the state and also indirectly conveys the Church’s prescription for government policy in respect of the Copts. The Coptic Church signalled its intention to continue this relationship when it used the media to publicize its support for the ascendency of Mubarak’s son Gamal to the presidency (Sadeq, 13 November 2009), despite the widespread discontent that the prospect of a Mubarak dynasty precipitated among the Egyptian population. Yet, in al-Keraza’s pledge of support for Mubarak, support was expressed not only from within the Coptic space in Egypt, but was extended to include the approval of the Copts in the diaspora. Referring to this diaspora underlines the global nature of the community that Shenouda was speaking for and gives weight to the Pope’s position as their representative to the Egyptian state. It reminded the state of Pope Shenouda’s global reach and influence. During the Sadat-Shenouda era, one of the key incidents occurred during Sadat’s presidential visit to America, when he faced public opposition from Copts in America. In the current global climate, and considering the financial support provided by America, in addition to US concerns regarding Egypt’s human rights record including its treatment of religious minorities, the Egyptian government relied on Pope Shenouda to mitigate some of the activism of the Coptic diaspora. That the patriarch appears to act as the sole spokesman for the Copts implies that they have a separate political stance because they are Copts and that the Pope is the individual with legitimacy to express the views of the entire community. These public expressions of support and careful management of official Coptic media discourses to reflect this relationship between Patriarch and President are not a one-way strategy. In return, Pope Shenouda was recognized as the representative of a delineated Coptic community over whose internal affairs he had authority in a quasi-millet relationship (McCallum, 2008: 78). The Church uses its leverage as an institution in which Coptic authority resides to ensure that the state is reliant on its support. Scott quotes an interview with Anba Beshoy in Egyptian magazine al-Musawwer in which it is openly acknowledged that the church leadership believe Copts followed Pope Shenouda’s political injunctions and that the state saw this as a shortcut to dealing with its Coptic citizens (2010: 69). Indeed, the Church and state under Mubarak and Shenouda cooperated to diffuse incidents of communal violence, but this came at the price of failing to address the social and political issues involved. Both preferred to treat sectarian violence as a security issue, which means an attack by extremists, of any religion, on Egyptian security and stability. They achieved this by utilizing non-official channels for dispute resolution. This is demonstrated by the reliance on ‘reconciliation meetings’, which usually bring

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together the local religious leaders of the community in which a sectarian incident has taken place. These meetings resemble the traditional tribal system of arbitration and tend to focus on mediating the consequences of a problem, without addressing its root causes. In February 2006, in al-Ayat (an area of Giza on the outskirts of Cairo), Coptic property was destroyed and homes burned down. Pope Shenouda intervened to persuade the victims of the violence and destruction to drop their court case and instead to agree to reconciliation meetings. As a result, while further tensions were prevented, the victims received no compensation for their losses and neither the causes nor the consequences of the incident were publically investigated. Avoiding an examination of the social, political and religious factors ensures that both the state and religious institutions are able to detach themselves from the direct responsibility of resolving them and forestalls a national dialogue. This explains why lawyer Nargis Kamel, in reacting to the February 2003 el-Kosheh trial verdict, suggested that, ‘it seems from the verdict that all parties have worked together – Pope Shenouda, state, and court – to avoid escalations’ (Hulsman, 1 March 2003). The swine flu crisis gives a further illustration of the state’s reliance on the Church. In April 2009, the outbreak of a new form of the flu virus in Mexico that became known as swine flu led to a media frenzy in Egypt. Within days a motion was passed in parliament to order the slaughter all of Egypt’s pigs. Despite international criticism, the Egyptian government decided to go ahead with the mass slaughter. The dynamic of this issue quickly transformed into a sectarian one. The vast majority of pig farmers in Egypt are Christians, since pigs are considered unclean in Islam and are forbidden as a food to Muslims. Furthermore, those that rely on pig farming are largely from the poorest section of the Coptic community who live in slums in the Moqattam area of Cairo. They are known as the Zebaleen (rubbish collectors) because they collect and recycle Cairo’s rubbish. When the police moved in to carry out the slaughter there was widespread resistance and protest against the loss of livelihoods. The resulting coverage of the issue quickly became dominated by the question of whether this was an example of discrimination against the Copts. In the case of swine flu, it was necessary to highlight the Church’s approval to obtain the acquiescence of Copts for the government’s action. There are consequences of giving a religious leader this status and power to negotiate with the state. The tension that this constructs is illustrated in an article in al-Fagr (al-Baz, 4 February 2008). According to this article, the Church has made Copts feel that they are a state within a state and as a result they take all their problems, whether economic, social or political, straight to the Church rather than the appropriate state body. An article in al-Dostour supports this point (al-’Asqalany, 30 October 2007), when it reports on the protest of 50 Christian citizens at the government’s lack of response over the alleged appropriation of their land. The article reports that they had sent several messages to Pope Shenouda. Only after their

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complaint was not dealt with via the Church did they go to the local government body to seek redress. According to another article in al-Masry al-Youm, Copts had gone first to the Church for help on the swine flu issue but the Church refused to interfere, at least officially (Bayoumi, 3 May 2009). The idea of a state within the state is one that frequently appears in Egyptian media, though not in the official media channels. This discourse echoes Sadat’s speech in 1980, in which he accused Pope Shenouda of creating a fifth column and seeking to create a Coptic state within the Egyptian state (Badawy, circa 1990: 10). This accusation still has an influence in the discussion of Muslim–Christian relations in the national space. An example appeared in Al-Masry al-Youm where Pope Shenouda has been referred to as the ‘religious president’. One article concludes, ‘We have started to think that there is a state within the state. It is based in Abbasiya3 and is called the Patriarchal Republic of Shenouda’ (Bayoumi and al-Qarnashawi, 2 March 2008). Under Sadat, such comments would not have been accepted by the government or Church, but the relationship between Mubarak and Shenouda enforced mutual silence. The Church is aware that it has to maintain a social contract with the Coptic community, while balancing this with deference to the state that protects the status quo in which the Church acts as the leader of the Copts. Likewise, the state also has an interest in ensuring the stability and control of the Church because stability within the Church allows the status quo of the current power structure of the Egyptian state to continue. Shenouda and Mubarak therefore maintained a mutually supportive position in the media. However, the Patriarch is not always a silent party to this relationship and expects the state to leave authority over communal affairs to him. An example is the state’s silence on Shenouda’s refusal to implement the court decision on granting permission for a Coptic man named Atef Kyrilos to remarry. It is significant that the issue in question is one of personal status law, which governs personal and family life such as marriage, divorce, inheritance and custody of children. In most Muslim majority countries Islamic legal principles still govern the personal status laws, even where the rest of the legal system is based on civil law traditions drawn mainly from French traditions. This area of law would have been administered by the religious leadership of each religious community under the millet system and this explains why Muslims and Christians are not always treated equally before the law and why there are complications with issues such as conversion because religious affiliation determines the laws that apply to the individual. Kyrilos obtained a civil divorce through the Egyptian courts and later went through the courts to obtain permission to remarry. The Coptic Church refused to implement his permission to remarry within the Church and the issue of whether the Church was obliged to implement the court ruling

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became a significant media debate from the end of 2007 until early 2008. The government remained ostensibly silent on the matter. Articles on the issue that did appear in the government papers were brief and did little more than list the legal facts of the case (al-Ahram, 2 March 2008). Neither did the issue feature in the Coptic newspapers aligned to the Church to any significant degree. More significant platforms for this topic were Coptic websites and forums and the independent Egyptian press. The relative silence of the official papers on this issue and other issues of sensitivity to the Church, indicates that there were clear red lines known to the state and the Church that were not to be crossed in their relationship, at least publically. In fact, it was very rare for the media to carry any content suggesting that the Church and state were at odds on any matter concerning internal Coptic affairs or the state’s position on national issues. As well as maintaining the stability of the political power structure, the relationship between the Church and state is characterized by noninterference in internal affairs. Officially, the Church does not criticize state decisions and actions and the state does not interfere in internal Church matters. Pope Shenouda used an article in al-Masry al-Youm to remind the state of this. It is significant that a non-state aligned newspaper was used as the vehicle for this implicit threat. The article reported on a television interview, which was ostensibly about the issue of Article 2 of the constitution (Bayoumi, 23 May 2007). According to the report of the interview, Pope Shenouda explained his position, that he felt that Article 2 should remain as part of the Constitution since the majority of Egyptians are Muslims. He then moved on to the issue of divorce laws in Christianity and stated that the courts cannot oblige the Church to grant someone permission to remarry. Putting these two unrelated issues together suggested that the state should repay the Church’s non-interference in the amendments of the Constitution with non-interference in the Church’s laws on marriage and divorce. Again, using al-Masry al-Youm, the Church reiterated its position vis-àvis the state very strongly via the media. In a comprehensive interview with Anba Beshoy, secretary of the Holy Synod and Pope Shenouda’s closest ally, it was made clear that Church affairs are not under the authority of the state. The title of the article provocatively stated, ‘The President has no Authority over the Pope and the state has no Right to Interfere in Internal Matters’ (Bayoumi, 3 November 2007). It is also significant that this strong statement came from a figure other than the Pope himself. When he did speak directly, Pope Shenouda tended to intentionally leave the door open for different interpretations of his comments on controversial or sensitive topics, while the most critical speech was often published via Anba Beshoy. This enabled the Pope to maintain the accepted dialogue in the official channels while indirectly challenging it through non-official media and through voices other than his own.

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Church management of a Coptic communicative space Research into online communities by Miller and Slater (2000) and also Correll (1995) has found that offline spaces are recreated online for communities to meet online and these spaces tend to mirror the physical social spaces used by these communities. Therefore, as long as the Church predominates in the Coptic community’s social space and is invested with the authority to speak for the community on social and political matters, as well as purely religious ones, it is likely that it will have a strong influence in the construction of media discourses. The expansion of the Church’s social space and its political role are reflected in and contribute to its use of the media and control of the discursive space of the Coptic community. This has long been a fundamental part of the Church’s media strategy to serve, protect and exercise authority over the Coptic community and the Church has clearly been among the main driving forces in publishing in Egypt, taking full advantage of advances in communications technology both to reinforce ties among the wider Coptic community and to promote adherence to an orthodox and unified understanding of Coptic beliefs and heritage. This is the context that much of the Coptic media emerged from and operated in. The Church is the key sphere in which Copts interact and Oram-Edwards (2004: 142) found that churches also demarcate physical space. When giving directions to their homes, she found that Copts used their local church as the primary marker of location. This points to the function of the Church in locating the Coptic community and to how some Copts experience Coptic identity as a boundary within which specifically Coptic life operates. It appears in this case, that such structures and relationships are also replicated online to define Coptic online spaces. My surveys show that Church attendance is central to the lives of Coptic Internet users. In the survey 77 per cent indicated that they attend church regularly and just over half of these attendees described how they are active in serving in the church in some way, mainly through teaching in Sunday schools or as members of the deaconate. Serving within the community in different capacities through the framework of the Church is a major feature of Coptic life and is reflected in the priorities attributed to Coptic media by Copts. This supports the idea that Copts are using media to fulfil multiple functions and that this reflects the Church framework, which reaches out beyond the religious sphere to undertake a broad role in the life of Copts. This is underlined in observations of Coptic media and the hierarchies that seem to be reproduced in the media spaces. Religious identity for Copts is not merely a matter for the private sphere, but spills also into the public sphere and becomes an element in the construction of social spaces and social life as a result of the merging of religious belonging with the provision of social services, economic benefits, social activities and political representation. The church is more than simply a religious space, set aside for the purposes of worship. It is also a social space for the community. As the

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majority of Internet spaces are concerned with a combination of spiritual and social activities and services, so the physical church space plays this combined role as a place for worship and for performing social life and safeguarding Coptic heritage. As the Church offers an alternative social space, so Coptic media offers an alternative communicative platform. This platform not only fulfils the function of disseminating news and information but, with the advent of electronic communication, it also acts as a channel to deliver services previously offered by the individual churches at the local level only. Developments in electronic media have enabled the Church to expand and consolidate its sphere of operation. It has done so by ‘mediating’ the activities performed in the physical church space. An illustration of the multiple functions of Coptic sites is www.yaso3.com, a site based in Egypt that was established in 2004. The aim of this site is to be an electronic social service for Arabic-speaking Christians but it is rooted very firmly within the church space in Egypt and is under the supervision of the Bishopric of Minia and Abu Qorqas, a diocese in Upper Egypt. The site administrator estimates in his answers to the questionnaire for media producers that 80 per cent of the content is religion-based and 20 per cent is social-based. He describes the main goal of the site as, ‘to achieve the improvement of the circumstances of Copts in Egypt’. According to the content of the site, it seems it is trying to achieve this through pastoral support and spiritual encouragement, as well as through strengthening Coptic networks and a sense of identity and belonging among Copts. On average, the administrator estimates that the site has 150,000 visitors per month and has 45,000 registered members. These members are able to contribute to the site and to send feedback to the administration team, a practice that reinforces belonging and commitment. The site offers a number of services through a multimedia platform. The main services include church notices, publishing articles and books on Christianity online, a section dedicated to children, social networking, providing hymns for downloading, disseminating Coptic news and the administration of forums and chat rooms. According to the site administrator, the most popular service is the forum, which is a common format for Coptic online groups in general. The forum acts as a space for dialogue and sharing that employs a system of peer review to supervise the content. This reflects the offline church space, which is a social space that involves its members in operating and preserving the space. This social interaction takes place under the supervision of the Church structure, much as this website operates under the auspices of the Bishopric. Within the forum on this site, the sections focus on spiritual matters such as the Bible, theology, serving in the Church, youth leaders and Church history. However, the section with the largest number of posts is the one that focuses on family and marriage matters. This section is used to request advice, mainly on relationship issues, from other members of the community. In this way it acts as a meeting place where advice can be

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obtained from peers and it is advice that is trusted because it is assumed that those advising are from within the community and are operating within the boundaries of Coptic social norms, values and religious teachings. A large proportion of the advice given uses religious language, that is biblical quotations, common prayer formulas and references to the teachings or stories of popular Coptic saints and clergy. The use of symbolic discourse that is specific to the community reaffirms the boundary of the group and protects the space as a safe, legitimate and ‘Coptic’ one, lending authenticity and authority to the content. This shows that Church supervision of the space does not limit the forum to being used only for discussing theological matters. Religious belonging provides the framework, however the space is not restricted to purely theological content but is applying faith to social life. Seeking advice and building up social networks are similarly performed via the church space offline and through the Coptic press. Coptic newspapers tend to give a significant amount of space to social announcements, readers’ pictures and messages and opinion pages. The Pope’s official newsletter, al-Keraza, has similar pages for reader participation. According to my survey of Coptic media usage, 34.2 per cent of the respondents read al-Keraza in Arabic and a further 11.8 per cent read its English translation. So it has a significant readership within the community. This publication has been used to expand the voice of the Church and link community members together by highlighting shared news and events. In this way the Church facilitates the reinforcement of relations between group members and to the group. Mediating shared events, such as ordinations, weddings, engagements and religious holidays, nationalizes and reinforces the collective identity of the community (cf. Anderson, 1983). Al-Keraza has also been used to involve the reader as an active partner in the process of reforming parishes, for example through the section for pastoral suggestions, ‘afkar ra’awiya’. This process serves to maintain an ongoing debate on the running of local churches and to bind the laity to the Church by involving them in the development and upholding of its pastoral practices. Thus, participation, whether active or passive, in Coptic particularist media, connects individuals to the Coptic community and affirms their belonging to a faith group so that reading Watani has become part of the Sunday ritual for Copts (Van Doorn-Harder and Vogt, 1997: 146–47). The importance of participation is mirrored in the Church social structure. The church space offers opportunities for Copts to take part in the hierarchy of the community. Taking part in this structure and performing roles in the church space is a way of networking, building a good reputation and also obtaining prestige. The concept of Khidma (service) became widespread during the papacy of Shenouda III. It involves active participation within the Church sphere in non-liturgical activities, such as helping with Sunday schools or running youth meetings. This system gives youth in particular the opportunity to gain authority and prestige and has been pivotal in the

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reinforcement and reproduction of Coptic identity (O’Mahony, 2010: 76). As Oram-Edwards (2004: 164) identifies, the notion of Khidma is powerful because it combines ta’a (obedience) to the Church and it also makes individuals caretakers or partners in maintaining the community, ensuring its welfare and reproducing and reinforcing its boundaries. With the expansion of electronic media, the capacity of the Church to reinforce belonging, interactive participation and collective responsibility for protecting group boundaries has also expanded. Participation and interaction, including through the media, involves individuals in an ongoing process of negotiating the collective ideas on which belonging is based and enhances the legitimacy of the Church for its congregation. When belonging is performed, it is experienced and this experience shapes the negotiation. Media, particularly interactive media, is therefore powerful in circulating and giving individuals ownership over the shared meanings that define a community. Message groups, forums and feedback on websites, all allow individuals to participate and become partners in constructing the boundaries of the community through reinforcing or contesting discourse, within the limits set by the church space. These types of Internet media are overseen by a series of administrators who are each responsible for a particular section, for example accepting or rejecting messages and responding to complaints of misuse or inappropriate language. Such processes make it complicated for individuals to resist the dominant media discourse that is endorsed by the community because it appears to attack the group’s boundary that is communally maintained. This complication was illustrated in a dispute between Watani and the Church leadership in 2006. Two points of contention were Watani’s coverage of the Secular Copts Front conference and an interview with Max Michel in an issue published on 19 November 2006. Max Michel set up a rival Patriarchate in Egypt and, because there is considerable hostility between him and the Coptic Orthodox Church leadership, it is a common accusation that those who oppose the Church are followers of Max Michel. The third issue was the earlier distribution of a CD of hymns produced by a Protestant church. All three issues touch on the idea of a unified Coptic Church in authority over a unified Coptic community. Its opposition was framed as protecting the integrity of the Coptic faith and community from deviant discourses, or ‘heresies’. Secular reformists, Max Michel and protestants were all constructed as deviants who are therefore placing the Coptic Church, and by extension the Copts themselves, under threat. As a result, Pope Shenouda threatened to withdraw his weekly column in Watani and to advise all members of the clergy to end their contributions to the newspaper. According to an article in al-Ahram, Pope Shenouda used his weekly papal address of 22 November 2006 to announce that Watani no longer operated in accordance with the Church line (Sadeq, 21 December 2006). This was a clear and public message to Copts not to buy Watani. Using al-Ahram also reasserts Church authority, not only within the Church

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sphere, but also universally to the nation. This incident clearly illustrates how the Church views Coptic media and also its own role as protector of the orthodoxy of the Coptic community’s identity and beliefs. It also reveals the limitations placed on Coptic media in terms of its content as well as the extent to which the Church’s function as media and political spokesman of the Copts has become naturalized. The naturalization of this role and the dominant discourses that support this give the Church powerful ideological legitimacy (cf. Fairclough, 2001). Supporting this naturalization is the Church publication al-Keraza, which acts as the official voice of the Church leadership. It circulates the official Church news, involving readers in Church life, but it also circulates the Church’s official view on Coptic and Egyptian affairs. This normalizes the Church’s function of determining a ‘Coptic’ position on social and political affairs, as well as religious ones. This can be implicit but also explicit. In al-Keraza on 22 July 2005, Pope Shenouda published an article under the headline, ‘The Coptic Church Calls for the Election of President Mohamed Hosni Mubarak’. The article goes on to state that the Pope, and the metropolitans and bishops of the Coptic Orthodox Church signed a document supporting the re-election of Mubarak (al-Keraza, 22 July 2005). In a later edition, an article was published that suggested that not only the Church within Egypt but also the Coptic churches in America supported Mubarak (al-Keraza, 16 September 2005). When Pope Shenouda issued such opinions on political issues, his defenders pointed his right to give personal opinions as an Egyptian citizen. However, his status as head of the Coptic Church, which had actively sought social and political as well as religious leadership, gave his statements broader impact and weight. One Coptic Bishop, Kyrilos of Naga’ Hamadi in Upper Egypt (and member of the formerly ruling National Democratic Party), went further in imbuing his expression of support for Mubarak in 2005 with legitimacy derived directly from religious texts. While Church statements hold some legitimacy by virtue of their claim to religious authority, he directly used religion to justify his political stance by publishing an advert in Watani, which used a biblical verse to claim political support for Mubarak’s re-election (Free Copts, 7 September 2005). In the Old Testament there is a verse which reads, ‘Blessed be Egypt, my people’.4 In Arabic, Mubarak means blessed and this advert suggests that to elect Mubarak is to realize this biblical verse. After Mubarak’s electoral success, al-Keraza was used again to publish a congratulatory message, which was addressed to the President in ‘the name of the community’ and not only himself as an individual. According to the article, ‘All the Copts – Clergy and congregation – extend their congratulations to President Mubarak’ (al-Keraza, 16 September 2005). In addition, the text of a telegram sent by Pope Shenouda to Mubarak was published. In the telegram he wrote, ‘The churches [sic] bells rang when your winning [sic] was declared to declare the people’s happiness’ (ibid.). The language used in all these statements does

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not suggest that this is an individual view because the Church, its congregation and its clergy, are all included in the statements of support. These examples indicate that, although the spiritual function of Coptic media is a priority for Coptic audiences, the Church does not use Coptic media only for pastoral care. Coptic media has a social and a political function. Clearly, the Church is one of main actors, if not the main actor, in Coptic media and Coptic discourses because the Church is invested with legitimacy by the greater part of the community. The Coptic Orthodox Church is run as a national church, which presents itself as a source of pride and a stable focus for community identity and belonging. In this sense, the Church, and therefore its leadership, is the guardian of the heritage and historical narratives that underlie Coptic shared consciousness. The Church has reached out to its congregation to establish itself in the role of providing economic and social services and political leadership. Therefore, it forms part of the Coptic narrative as well as actively preserving and guiding it. It is belonging to the Church that most visibly distinguishes Copts from Muslims and also roots them in pre-Islamic Egypt through historical and biblical narrative.

The Church, Internet and the diaspora: a challenge to Church authority or broadening its support base? Unlike Riggins’ (1992: 65) Inuit case, the leadership based around the Coptic Church has not been sidestepped by technological development; rather this leadership has placed itself at the forefront of Coptic media. To maintain the current social hierarchies, the youth and the growing diaspora need to be socialized into the established social structures and doxa. Botros (2006: 181) found that Coptic youth in the diaspora are viewed by the Church leadership as a key segment of the community in terms of socializing them into a Church-sanctioned Coptic identity. This was previously achieved, and still is, through involving youth members in church roles, such as servants in the Church, youth projects, camps and visits to monasteries (Van Doorn-Harder and Vogt, 1997: 182–85 and 190–92). The use of the Internet seems to be an extension of this and forms a crucial part of the Church’s strategy, which has been adapted to new technology and the demographic changes within the Coptic community. The Mubarak government failed to adapt to the growing importance of electronic media such as social media, which led to the opposition blocs attaining a far greater prominence online than the state. In contrast, even before the dominance of Facebook and other social spaces, the Church took the potential of the Internet seriously. Dedicated teams were established in the Youth Bishopric to represent the Church online, whether through Facebook groups or websites such as Copticwave.com and Copticworld.org. The Church built up a presence backed up by the provision of a wealth of materials, including hymns, sermons and spaces for dialogue such as the

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numerous forums. These sites were then in place to play an apologetic role to support and defend Church decisions, points of doctrine and political standpoints. The growth of the Coptic diaspora adds a new dynamic to both the content and operation of Coptic media and the reproduction of hierarchies in Coptic groups online. The narratives of Coptic diaspora media draw on culture, history, territory and even a language, and the Coptic Church acts as a repository for these elements. As indicated by the early development of the Coptic Church described in the introduction, Coptic nationalism and the Coptic Church have been intimately connected since the fourth century. In a similar example, Safran (1991: 84) notes that, ‘The church has played an important role in maintaining Armenian ethnicity’. This role is especially notable in the Coptic case because this Church has acted as an isolated national church. The Church acts as a reservoir of traditions for the community and the role of the Church in representing a ‘lost’ culture or homeland helps explain why the diaspora is separated into a Coptic diaspora and an Egyptian diaspora, which is by implication Muslim or non-Coptic orthodox. Coptic nationalism led to the establishment of the Coptic religio-political leadership in Egypt that supported a unique and inseparable national/religious culture and identity. Although there are national Coptic organizations, such as US Copts and Copts United UK, generally the identification is collectively used as Coptic diaspora or Aqbat al-Mahgar, generally without differentiation of location or the impulse to hyphenate this with a further national identification. Botros found that there are two streams in Coptic diaspora narratives which are in line with my observation of Coptic diaspora electronic media. The first is Church-based and is based on the idea of the miracle of survival of the Coptic Church despite the persecution it has suffered and pride in this heritage of overcoming in contrast to one of victimhood. Copts are encouraged to remain loyal to the Church and to serve and pray in order to ensure the continued survival of their Church. In this narrative there is an emphasis on persecution in the Byzantine era and the growth of the early Church, with a silence on the persecution in the post-Arab era. Indeed, there seems to be a sense that the Church has been silent since the Arab conquests, with ubiquitous but vague references to the problems of the Church and the silence of the Copts, ‘for the last 1400 years’. Egypt came under Arab rule in the seventh century, approximately 1,400 years ago. This attitude is summed up in the following response to my survey question about the usefulness of particularistic Coptic electronic media: For 1,400 years the Copts never had the means to have their voice made heard. Any other media format would have been under the control of their oppressors. Now Copts have the chance to speak out freely and under no influence. (Male, USA)

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This attitude is overlooked in Church discourses but is discussed far more directly in the second stream within diaspora media, which is that of the political activists. They use websites and lobbying in the West, often adopting the language of human rights as a discursive space not under the authority of the Church so they are not directly challenging the Church. Their websites demonstrate how they negotiate this different discourse while trying to remain within the framework of the Coptic community, which requires them to remain within the Church because of the ethno-religious nature of Coptic identity and social structures in the diaspora. Botros’ findings suggest that their challenge to the official Church discourse creates conflict within the church spaces in the diaspora. The Church response to problems of the Coptic community is prayer because the Church prefers to forget persecution and focus on collective remembering of the Church’s survival (Botros, 2006: 192). In contrast, the activists want to mobilize Coptic identity to promote Coptic rights in the homeland and highlight their grievances. Galal (2011) also noted the variety of responses among Coptic diaspora communities in Europe as they reacted to the anti-regime demonstrations of January 2011. These activities, though divergent in their approaches, appeal to a collective identity which supersedes physical location but remains under the umbrella of the Church structure and is rooted in an imagined Coptic Egypt. This identity is focused on loyalty to Coptic heritage, which is built on pre-Arab Egyptian culture and the Church as preserver of Coptic sovereignty. Despite the conflict between these two approaches and the public loyalty to Church authority and discourse, the websites of the diaspora activists are popular both inside and outside Egypt. When asked to name the preferred source of information, diaspora activist websites were among those most frequently cited. Although Internet traffic does not give a nuanced understanding of who is using particular sites or why, it is interesting to note that according to statistics collected from alexa.com, a service that rates sites and records Internet traffic, in May 2009 the American Coptic website copts. com, seemed to receive more visitors than the Coptic Pope’s official website. More interesting still is that 51.1 per cent of the visitors to copts.com were located in Egypt with only 17.1 per cent from the USA. This could be explained by the fact that the number of Copts in Egypt is far larger than the number in America. However, when looking at the visitors to copticpope.org, the official site of the Coptic Pope, the difference was very small; 39.9 per cent were from Egypt and 36.8 per cent from America. A website directed at Copts in the Los Angeles Diocese of America (lacopts. com) also attracted high numbers of visitors from inside Egypt. A total of 34 per cent were located in Egypt and only 33 per cent in America. Although Botros notes that it is a small minority who publically oppose Church discourse, this may not necessarily be reflected in private media consumption patterns. The criticism by the Church leadership of diaspora Coptic media does not necessarily prevent individual Copts using

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these sites to inform themselves or network with other Copts. Thus, there is no contradiction in the high use of copticpope.org by Copts in America who wish to connect with the centre of their Church and Copts inside Egypt who wish to consume media from the diaspora that offers a different perspective and a forum for discussion not widely available in their immediate environment. In the case of lacopts.org, this is a Church-run website rather than a political forum but perhaps offering a different perspective and fresh material, while still within the borders of the Coptic Church. It should be emphasized that a website categorized as a political activist space does not preclude the inclusion of ‘religious’ content. Pride in cultural and religious heritage is visible in the discourse of the laity as well as the clergy (Botros, 2006: 179) and this is reflected online on both Church-run or affiliated sites and those independent from the Church. These independent sites often use language and symbols related to the Coptic Orthodox faith and to Egypt. Although they are secular in purpose, meaning that they do not have a stated purpose of providing spiritual information or pastoral support, and deal mainly with issues concerning Coptic rights, this does not mean they reject the Church and its authority in the community nor do they use entirely secular language or imagery. This indicates that the religious elements in Coptic discourse are necessary in identifying with that group and for authenticity and legitimacy and that this emphasizes belonging structured around a centralized leadership provided by the Coptic Orthodox Church. This challenges Mandaville’s (2003) argument about the Internet and religion in the diaspora. He suggested that new media would enable Muslims in diasporic communities to reshape Islam in a way that is relevant to them, far from traditional leadership and orthodox interpretations of religion and tradition. It is doubtful that such a straightforward assertion can be made. New media offers new communicative spaces but it also has the ability to reconnect diaspora communities to the centre of authority in their homelands. Online access to teachings of scholars, such as those at al-Azhar, can link Muslims in the diaspora more closely with, and give open access to, traditional, orthodox religious teachings. The same can be asserted with regard to the Coptic diaspora and the increased connectedness to the Pope’s cathedral in Abbasiya, Cairo. This connection is reinforced by continual visits of clergy from Egypt to immigrant churches and sponsored pilgrimages of young diaspora Copts to religious sites in Egypt. It is also clearly reinforced by the content and usage of Coptic media spaces. Thus, far from being de-territorialized, the homeland of mother Egypt, the Nile river as nurturer of her children, the Coptic Church as guardian of the Copts and similar imagery is widespread in diaspora websites and discourses that display a sense of rootedness in a mythical homeland under the protection of the Church leadership, underlining the importance of land and religion in Coptic diaspora identification processes (cf. Malkki, 1992).

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Conclusion The Coptic Orthodox Church in Egypt clearly (re)emerged in the latter half of the twentieth century as a national institution with a significant political profile. Facilitating this process was an historical acceptance of the legitimacy of leaderships claiming political and religious competency. Social, political and economic developments during the end of the nineteenth and throughout the twentieth century, enabled the authority of the Church within the Coptic community to emerge as largely incontestable. The sociopolitical climate, as well as the renewed influence of religious discourses within the Egyptian public space in general, also enabled the Coptic Church to become more visible as a national institution, although its real authority only exists within the church space. The exploitation of media to bolster and manage the Church’s public and political profile is also not a new phenomenon and the post-Sadat Church–state relationship of cooperation has not hindered the expansion and diversification of the Church sphere that has helped to create a Coptic audience with its own media. As well as managing the Coptic space, the Church uses the media to position itself vis-à-vis the Egyptian state and maintain its relationship with the government. Via the media, the Church maintains an official discourse with the state and uses media as a channel to secure its own visibility as the representative of the Coptic community. The Church selects carefully which battles to fight. Although Pope Shenouda did act as spokesman for the community, he tended not to directly criticize the state in political issues in the media. He only did so when defending issues of religious doctrine or the internal running of the Church. This is the difference between the question of issuing licences for remarriage and the question of culling Egypt’s pigs. Yet Roz al-Yusef, which was unofficially aligned with the state and particularly the younger National Democratic Party(NDP) members including Gamal Mubarak during this period of research, gave considerable space to the members of the Secular Copts Front. This was impossible in al-Ahram, whose official and symbolic status restricts its discourses to some extent. Consequently, the state used other channels for more explicit criticism of the Muslim Brotherhood or the Coptic diaspora, whereas in al-Ahram the state must maintain its policy of not giving space, and therefore credibility, to these groups. Likewise the Coptic newspaper al-Katiba al-Tibia, which is only available to buy from within the enclosed church space, is more direct and open in its defence of Christianity and discussion of Coptic persecution. This is permitted as long as it is distanced from any direct official relationship with either the state or the Pope. So despite the rapprochement between Church and state and the maintenance of discourses of mutual support through official media channels such as al-Ahram and al-Keraza, nonofficial newspapers and electronic media that are not direct mouthpieces of either Church or state are nonetheless used by both to pursue non-official

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agendas and to negotiate the relationship. Allowing such newspapers to be distributed enables the Copts to express some of their dissatisfaction, but unofficially and away from the public sphere. It acts as a valve to let off steam (Khamis and Vaughn, 2011), as well as to give to the government the appearance of the gloss of democracy and allowing freedom of expression. The Church has clearly developed its media strategy within the national media and the Coptic space and has successfully widened its sphere of influence in this way. The Church exerts considerable effort to maintain control of the Coptic social space by providing services and acting as a parallel arena for self-expression and social networking. Through producing Coptic media the Church has been able to centralize a collective understanding of ‘Coptic community’ and the discourses of belonging to it. It also acts as the epicentre of the Coptic community worldwide. This is particularly important, and increasingly difficult, to maintain as the Coptic diaspora expands. The media is a pivotal element for meeting the challenges of linking the community through a collective consciousness, offering it protection and guidance and acting as an alternative sphere for social expression. The findings presented in this chapter indicate that the Church has the largest presence on the Internet, followed by activists in the diaspora. The secular Coptic elite within Egypt has less of an Internet presence but is more significant in its contribution to the mainstream Egyptian press where the Church has less control over the content they produce. The Church is able to maintain this authority due to the legitimacy accorded to it by the Copts because of its unique function as a vessel for holding Coptic ethno-religious identity. The diaspora also appears prominently because it has access to technology and is somewhat removed from the restrictions placed on the freedom of expression and media in Egypt. While there are demotic discourses, particularly those noted on social media sites such as Facebook and the websites of diaspora activists, there is a sense that these are not openly endorsed. This would seem to suggest that the content would largely serve to represent a reinforcement of the doxa of the community, rather than challenging it and to reinforce existing hierarchies (Sullivan, 1999: 150). While networks are established, new relations of power do not follow automatically as long as legitimacy is placed in traditional leadership. This is likely to change with time as these networks expand and become more embedded in community relations. Due to the intimate relationship between the authority of the Church and its relationship with the state, national political crises, most notably Mubarak’s resignation in February 2011, will force the Church to change its strategy continually to maintain its legitimacy. This will become more difficult as boundaries of communication are expanded through new media technology and through changes in the political culture of Egypt.

5

Discoursing national belonging National unity versus sectarianism

This chapter places the discourses and the processes underlying Coptic belonging firmly in the Egyptian national context prior to the protests of January 2011. There has long been a recognition of internal social tensions and the need to promote unity, and the discussion in this book has shown that the Church and the state have increasingly tried to control a national discourse of Muslim–Christian relations, national identity and belonging, particularly in light of incidents of sectarian violence. One of the major ways in which Egyptian national identity is constructed and negotiated is upon the framework of relations between its two largest religious communities, Muslims and Christians. The national unity (al-wahda al-wataniya) narrative is the major discourse of Muslim–Christian relations and Egyptian national identity. This chapter analyses how this is constructed, why it is important and what the strategies are behind it. This framework attempts to reiterate how similar Egyptians are but this chapter will ask whether holding onto this Muslim–Christian paradigm maintains the boundary of religion by constructing it as the identifying factor distinguishing between two elements of the Egyptian social fabric, ‘onsorey al-naseeg al-masry. In other words, the suggestion is that by making a claim to sameness, religion as a marker of difference is actually ingrained.

History, collective memory and constructing national unity Even though the media presents an influential communicative space within which the process of negotiation of national discourse operates (Middleton and Edwards, 1990: 4), to have a strong impact these discourses need to gain some measure of acceptance. As Billig (1995) argues, it is the uncontested, unnoticed or normalized symbols of nation that are most powerful. In the case of Egypt, selective narratives of history normalize and therefore provide legitimacy for the understanding of national unity as a natural state of relations between Muslims and Copts in Egypt. In Egyptian media, the discourse of national unity is very often defined in reference to the national movement of 1919. It is this period that forms the foundation for the collective social consciousness framing the understanding of Egyptian

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national unity today, and is used in this way for the purpose of addressing incidents that threaten to destabilize relations that were historicized and idealized in media discourse. This is why it is common to find articles that discuss Muslim–Christian relations or incidents of communal violence that rely heavily on references to, and insistence on, the continued central importance and strength of national unity as ‘proved’ by 1919 (Samy, 22 June 2008; al-Gomhoriya, 20 February 2010, al-Akhbar, 24 July 2010). Consequently, 1919 has been objectified as an idea to be commemorated collectively, which ‘involves the collective sharing of a philosophy of history or sense of the past, and as such its content is more general than the memoration of a specific event’ (Billig, 1995: 62). The movement of 1919 is used to foreground a construction of joint national resistance against the British protectorate (1882–1922) as the foundation for the discourse of national unity. In this period, Egyptians came together and rose up against a foreign power to retake control of Egypt. This resistance has come to represent a symbolic period for Egyptian unity and nationalism and of brotherhood between Copts and Muslims and is commemorated as signifying the true nature of Muslim–Christian relations in Egypt. The slogan ‘religion is for God and the nation is for all’ (al-deen lillah wa al-watan lil gamea’) and the image of the ‘cross and the crescent’ came to embody that national movement and they remain central to the representation of national unity in modern discourse. It also offers a universal language of national resistance, which partly explains the appearance of banners featuring the cross and crescent during the 25 January protests. This testimony to the enduring strength of the 1919 imagery and discourse is particularly impressive if we take into account Ibrahim’s findings. According to her, the cross and crescent flags were not a major feature during 1919 but became increasingly visible after 1922 as a symbol ‘of the supposed spirit of 1919’ (2011: 60). She also argues that the portrayals of Muslim–Copt unity in 1919 are too monolithic and fail to take account of the different stances that can be identified among Copts and Muslims in this period. She also questions the extent to which the Coptic Patriarch at the time, Kyrilos V, actually supported the nationalist movement (2011: 66). Nevertheless, this shared collective history is today cited as a testament to the eternal and deep-rooted nature of national unity (Samy, 22 June 2008). History is accorded authority and this interpretation is presented as the only representation. A sense of the timelessness of Egyptian national unity is often contrasted with the violent incidents between Muslims and Copts, which are portrayed as new phenomena that only take place ‘from time to time’ (Sadeq, 9 January 2008). These narratives are not only apparent in news media. As Makari noted (2007: 71), the government literacy scheme ‘Reading for All’ has likewise served as a channel for publishing books that highlight national unity discourses and the long history of harmony between Muslims and Christian in Egypt. So, across Egypt’s media, the unity of the Egyptian social fabric is often constructed as something that is eternally

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enduring and as such it is normalized and incontestable. This is achieved by emphasizing the long history of national unity, even portraying it as something that has been in existence ‘for thousands of years’ (Saraya, 31 July 2008). This contributes to the construction of a collective consciousness of the durability of national unity as a natural state of affairs. According to Halbwachs (1992), collective memory involves both collective remembering and collective forgetting and is socially constructed according to the needs of the present. In this case, it is used to support and give credibility to national unity. Using selective historical narratives is a key part of the process of continual negotiation and therefore the past is accorded significant authority and weight. As Halbwachs writes, ‘It is language, and the whole system of social convention attached to it, that allows us at every moment to construct our past’ (1992: 172–73). History is the foundation upon which we understand the present as well as a tool to address the needs of the present because, while habitus has the capacity to produce thoughts and perceptions, historically and socially situated conditions of production create the framework within which this takes place (Bourdieu, 1999: 95). In an article discussing the national movement of 1919 the author argues that the younger generation should be educated about the events and values of the 1919 period, ‘so as not to be polluted by extremism or radicalism’ (Samy, 22 June 2008). Giving such weight to these historical narratives ensures that national unity is objectified and historicized in a way that constructs it as an integral element of Egyptian heritage that merits protection. This explains why publishing anything that undermines national unity is a red line not to be crossed and publishing articles that could undermine national unity is branded as irresponsible (Hegab, 16 December 2008). An article in al-Ahram in December 2008 highlighted this explicitly by criticizing other media channels for publishing articles that risk damaging national unity. In this way, the duty to protect Egypt is summarized as a duty to protect national unity. This is a characteristic of Halbwachs’ theory of collective memory (1992), which refers to the importance of collective responsibility in maintaining a discourse and guarding its boundaries (Shotter, 1996: 128). This broad approach of constructing a collective memory of national unity is complemented by the use of individual stories that personify the national vales. This not only underscores national unity values as part of Egyptian history but also as part of each individual Egyptian’s character and lived experience. This implicitly suggests that the maintenance of national unity is a duty to perform individually. In one example, the ‘eternal friendship’ between a Muslim man and a Christian man is the subject of a newspaper article (Hendy, 23 February 2007). Through the story of the friendship, national unity is symbolized. The two characters are presented as having been friends for 60 years, growing up together in an uninterrupted and mutually supportive relationship. There for each other in time of need,

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the two characters are represented as almost inseparable, with no barriers between them, acting as a metaphor for the inseparable nature of Egyptian national social fabric and the two elements (Muslims and Christians) that form it. This framework is not used only in official media like al-Ahram. The independent newspaper al-Masry al-Youm used a similar relationship to embody the idea of national unity as part of a series of articles in a special issue on the topic. The article discusses the relationship between Um Faiza and Um Marianne (Farghaly and Bahnasawy, 14 February 2008). Using the title ‘Um’, meaning mother, represents them as two Egyptian mothers. They share the bond of motherhood, which is beyond any religious distinction. This is also tied to the popular national unity imagery of Egypt as motherland and Egyptians, whether Muslim or Copt, as sons of Egypt. The article goes further to suggest that the example of Um Faiza and Um Marianne’s friendship confirms images in film and soap operas that show Muslims and Christians living together in unity. Yet this claim does not fit with my survey results nor with conversations and interviews during my fieldwork, since a large number of Copts see themselves as portrayed negatively, inaccurately or insufficiently in the media.

Discourses of displacement and forgetting The construction of collective memory is not only based on the foregrounding of certain ideas, relationships or events, but also the backgrounding or ‘forgetting’ of others. Forgetting plays a crucial role in the mediation of Muslim–Christian relations in Egypt in order to promote an understanding of national unity as a real and vital lived experience. As Halbwachs (1992: 182) observes, there is a need for a degree of unity among social groups that make up a society so ‘society tends to erase from memory all that might separate individuals, or that might distance groups from each other’. This approach can be considered to be an attempt to avoid social trauma and further conflict (cf. Khatib, 2008). There are two main ways in which this forgetting is manifested in Egyptian media’s discourse of Muslim–Christian relations; first, by attributing communal violence to other causes or by denying tensions altogether; second, in the controversy over the application of the label ‘minority’ to Egypt’s Christians. One of the major observations that can be made of media coverage of communal violence is a persistent rejection of the argument that sectarianism is to blame or that there is any history of tensions between Egypt’s two main religious groups. Citing history is used to support these perspectives in two ways. The first is a direct rejection of inter-religious tensions as an intrinsic Egyptian problem. The second is the identification of certain values as inherently Egyptian while others are constructed as foreign and thus un-Egyptian. At a conference in Doha in April 2006, former Minister for Awqaf Hamdy Zaqzoq, was quoted as saying that Egypt has never had a

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problem with sectarianism (al-Ahram, 27 April 2006). This appears to contradict the well-publicized clashes in Alexandria in 2005 and the less publicized, but no less significant, violence in al-Kosheh that began on 31 December 1999, but it seems that enough time had passed since these incidents for this statement to be made publically. In the media coverage during the immediate aftermath of a major incident of inter-communal violence when an outright denial cannot be made, there tends to be an emphasis on underscoring the elements of the incident not related to sectarianism. There are often a considerable number of references to national unity and its slogans and images as well. This can be explained by Khatib’s suggestion that, ‘Public myths … are mechanisms of maintaining unity and cohesion in a nation at a time of crisis’ (2008: 155). To underline the assertions that such incidents are not sectarian and that the national unity construct is unaffected, some media channels describe violence between Copts and Muslims as an attack against a Church or tensions between citizens. This avoids setting up an ‘us’ and ‘them’ scenario and limits damage to the national unity discourse that says that religious difference is not a factor in communal violence. This is supported by McCallum’s (2008: 76) research, which found that after communal violence, ‘Victims and attackers were not clearly distinguished and members of both communities were arrested.’ Another strategy which is frequently observable is that of bringing in quotes from prominent figures and officials that confirm the causes of the violence as being based not on sectarian tensions but on general disagreements. The most important figure in this regard is the Coptic Pope himself. In an interview in 2008, Shenouda did not deny communal violence outright but insisted that it should be understood as a ‘lack of civilization’ rather than as sectarianism. He went on to underline his view that such incidents that appear to be sectarian happen only ‘from time to time’ and are no more than individual disputes, for example over land ownership (Sadeq, 9 January 2008). Pope Shenouda could not deny the occurrence of such violence, which would alienate the Coptic victims, but he helped to mitigate the political fallout by supporting the comforting national unity discourse and the argument that this violence, although it can appear to be sectarian, is in fact normal tensions as can occur in any society between citizens regardless of religious affiliation (Gamal al-Din, 27 August 2008). The result is the undermining of the credibility of any arguments that would attribute communal violence to sectarianism and to implicitly label those who claim that an incident is sectarian as a traitor to national unity and thus to Egypt. This often prevents the further escalation of violence but fails to prevent its recurrence because avoiding the admission that communal violence is a problem stemming from within Egyptian socio-political culture makes it impossible to address the causes, which can at least partly be attributed to the normalization of religion as a category of difference in the structures of power governing social and political life. It is a factor that

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shapes the lived experience of Egyptian socio-political life. For example, the outbreak of the swine flu pandemic in spring 2009 and the resulting decision of the Egyptian government to cull Egypt’s pigs quickly became embedded in the larger perception among Copts of their status in society. The vast majority of Egypt’s pigs were raised by Christians and the government’s decision to slaughter them was received by some as proof of the state’s disregard for them. The official press tried to distance the issue rather than engaging with the reasons why it had become sectarianized. In one article the violence that broke out at the protests against the decision is discussed without attempting to explain the reasons behind the protests. The article represented the police as victims of the aggression of protesters; the headline reads ‘Owners of Pigs Attack Police in Moqattam’ (al-Ahram, 4 May 2009). There is no mention that the protesters are Copts nor of the protesters’ grievances. This is in keeping with the state’s policy of silence, often also adopted by the Church, to incidents that could display sectarian connotations (Bayoumi, 29 April 2009). Indeed, when faced with sectarian issues, the key media actors tend to react in very specific ways. The state, the Church and the official press tend to use silence or denial, while Watani addresses the issues but in subtle or indirect language. Diaspora media tackles Muslim– Copt tensions directly as proof of the persecution of Copts in Egypt while the independent papers vary in the stance they take, even within a single issue of one newspaper. In the case of swine flu, Roz al-Yusef once again turned the debate to the promotion of secularist narratives. One author argues that the fact that this issue became a sectarian one despite swine not being a symbol for Christianity in any sense, points to the increasing tendency to view and represent Egypt’s problems in terms of narratives of religion (Fawzy, 6 May 2009). Several other articles lament the role of religious figures in Egyptian politics or place the blame outside Egypt (Ragab, 4 May 2009). In contrast, the independent media generally used the incident to ridicule the government decision as being backward and reactionary on the one hand and on the other hand driven by ignorant and extreme MPs aligned with the Muslim Brotherhood. Al-Masry al-Youm published an article accompanied by a picture showing an MP in parliament wearing a face mask. It was clearly mentioned that this man was from the Muslim Brotherhood (al-Masry al-Youm, 29 April 2009). The intention was to ridicule the Muslim Brotherhood and their influence on Egyptian politics. While the discourse of ridicule was widespread, accusations of discrimination were not widespread in the national press, whether independent or official. Watani once again took the middle ground on this issue, in keeping with its position as a newspaper that is quasi-independent from the Coptic Church. The newspaper published an article with the headline ‘Violent Clashes Between Pig Farmers and Police’ (Watani, 10 May 2009). Despite the similar headline, this article reverses the depiction presented in the

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al-Ahram article of the police as victims attacked by the anonymous protesters. Watani mentions that police used tear gas and threw stones at the protesters and also explains the background issues that motivated these protests to enable the reader to empathize. This element was missing in the coverage of independent and official newspapers, which focus on the larger issues, such as the diaspora accusations of discrimination against the Copts and government incompetence, rather than the issues underlying this specific incident. Al-Katiba al-Tibia took a similar stance, highlighting the negative impact of the decision on the Zabaleen (al-Masry, 4 June 2009). In the same manner as the diaspora and more anti-government independent papers, Watani highlighted the fact that Egypt decided to slaughter the pigs against the advice of international experts without making accusations of discrimination. In both of these newspapers, the issue of discrimination against Copts was not explicitly discussed but it was implied that there are some doubts over the reasons behind the government decision; doubts that the Church cannot raise directly through the national press but can hint at through the Coptic press. Similarly, the instinct to deny communal violence or at least prevent its discussion in the media can be observed in the reporting (and non-reporting) of the al-Kosheh incident. According to Hossam Bahgat, a journalist formerly with the Cairo Times, when this independent English-language newspaper covered the sectarian violence that took place in al-Kosheh in 1999–2000, an entire edition of the paper was confiscated. An order was also issued that made possession of this edition illegal.1 This was not the first incident of communal violence that has taken place in al-Kosheh. There were also reports of communal violence in August 1998. Notably, the events were not discussed in any detail in al-Ahram until November 1998, after the story was circulated in the British press in October through an article published in the Daily Telegraph. Consequently, the purpose of the coverage was damage limitation by defending Egypt and national unity against a ‘foreign campaign’ that aimed to undermine Egypt’s reputation and social stability. The way this was reported in al-Ahram was very much based on displacement of blame and undermining the narratives of media sources not controlled by the Egyptian state. In an article about the swine flu controversy in Egypt, which notably appeared in the foreign politics section, the author stresses that there was no sectarian dynamic to the tensions that broke out until the foreign media began to portray events as being related to religious discrimination (Aryan, 9 May 2009). In this way the responsibility for communal violence is shifted to outside forces in order to protect the national unity discourse from being contested. In articles published in al-Ahram it is claimed that accusations of religious discrimination against Copts are used by foreign agents as a way to weaken and destabilize Egypt (al-Ahram, 7 November 1998; al-Batriq, 4 November 1998). This threat is taken seriously in Egypt and the response is often to cling to national unity narratives as both a shield and a sword in the face of

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this vague foreign menace. As one article asserted, national unity protects Egypt and ‘those who conduct these campaigns against Egypt will be crushed on the rock of national unity’ (ibid). Hinting at a foreign campaign against Egypt and national unity is a useful strategy in galvanizing the unity of ‘us’ against an outside threat. When an aspect of identity is threatened it tends to become a more significant element of collective consciousness and can thus be mobilized politically (Worchel, 1999; Fox, 2002). But it is not enough to simply apportion blame to these ‘outsiders’ and to distance them from a collective understanding of Egyptian identity and values on which national unity is based. They are also undermined and de-legitimized to further discredit their authenticity and impact. In reporting on the publication of the annual American report on religious freedoms produced by the US State department, al-Ahram refers to it as, ‘a type of seasonal folklore’, meaning that it is part of a regular series of attempts to imagine problems in Egypt that do not exist in reality. The credibility of the report is further questioned by insisting that the report is based on a limited understanding of Egypt. The article counters this partial view and explains that a full understanding illustrates that incidents that may appear to be sectarian are actually simply individual disputes. The article goes on to assert that in fact, ‘persecution is a word without a place in Egypt’. The article refers to a long history of tolerance and brotherhood to support this. Egypt’s history of tolerance is further underlined by contrasting Egypt with the West’s heritage of intolerance. On this basis, the author asserts that the discourses in the foreign press which misrepresent conflict in Egypt as religious are not only false but also often malicious (Ayran, 24 September 2008). The issue of persecution is the one where there seems to be most divergence between the discourse of the Coptic Church and the other voices, particularly those of the diaspora activists. This is clear in the examination of the coverage of diaspora media, as compared with Shenouda’s statements, during the swine flu incident. It is this subject that had elicited some of the rare criticism of Pope Shenouda. The American Coptic Union denounced Shenouda’s assertions that there is no persecution (al-Asar, 22 October 2007). While the approach of silence taken by the Church and the state controlled the manifestation of sectarianism in the short term, it did not address the frustrations that contribute to it in the long term. Non-official Coptic media, particularly al-Katiba al Tibia and the diaspora spaces on the Internet both serve as channels to express this frustration. These media are not national projects nor are they tied to official national discourses of unity and non-existence of inter-religious violence, unlike the national press, whether independent or official. While these media may discuss issues of persecution they do not generally question the usefulness or authenticity of the national unity construct. Loyalty and belonging to a united Egypt are paramount except in perhaps some of the most radical diasporic media. National media does not step outside the boundary of the national unity discourse, or at least

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not normally. While there is discussion of sectarianism and even persecution or discrimination against Christians, it is almost always indirect and via contributing writers, not the newspaper staff. In Roz al-Yusef, some individual writers refer to discrimination as a consequence of social problems and/or the interference of religious organizations in politics (Labib, 13 January 2010; Shafiq, 27 April 2010). They often refer to the issue in the wider context of marginalization and corruption, incorporating the issue of women’s rights. Al-Dostour is a left-leaning opposition newspaper and so its discourse on discrimination is often based on a criticism of NDP policies and the official religious institutions, which are aligned with the government. Al-Masry al-Youm is relatively neutral and, while it does speak about religious violence in general, it does not talk directly about discrimination against Christians. Individuals, such as sociologist and human rights activist Saad Eddine Ibrahim, may speak about the persecution of Copts, as do the diaspora Copts, but this is often couched in the universal discourse of human rights, good governance and the rule of law. Yet from the responses to my surveys, the issue of discrimination against Christians is widely perceived as endemic in Egyptian society and as one of the major challenges facing Egyptian Christians today.

Implications of the minority label for belonging and national Egyptian identity Another example of forgetfulness is observable in the (non) usage of the term ‘minority’ as a label for Egyptian Christians. As a rule, articles that mention the term minority in relation to Egypt’s Copts reject its use outright. A typical phrase reads, ‘There is no Christian minority in Egypt but there are Muslim and Christian citizens with equal rights and duties’ (Nafa’a, 18 July 1998). The controversy of using the term minority for Christians in Egypt entered the public sphere as a result of a conference organized by Egyptian activist Saad Eddine Ibrahim in 1994 to discuss ‘Minorities in the Arab World’. The inclusion of Copts as a minority in the conference agenda caused an outcry in Egypt and was rejected by the state and by the then head of the Coptic Orthodox Church, Pope Shenouda. The idea of minority is considered to be negative perhaps because it highlights difference and there is a fear that this difference would lead to more communal violence. As Blommaert and Verschueren (2002: 117) found in their analysis of European print media, the ideology of homogeneism, which is, ‘the idea that the ideal society should be as uniform or homogeneous as possible’, means that discoursing on the nation’s diversity can be seen as negative and disruptive of social order. There is also a historical context to the strength of feeling over this issue. When a treaty between Egypt and Britain was negotiated in 1922, Christian politicians opposed the initial inclusion of a clause that would have allowed Britain to intervene in Egyptian affairs on the pretext of protecting minorities. Again, this is part of

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the memoration2 of national unity and the united social fabric (Rizk, 13 January 2000). In the same period, the suggestion of including a quota for Christians as a minority in parliament was also rejected as unnecessary as well as detrimental (Hasan, 2003). As well as raising the spectre of the exploitation of minorities in Egypt by outside forces, Oram-Edwards (2004: 54–57) argues that the controversy surrounding this conference acted as a catalyst for the state to attempt to create an ‘official Copticness’ much like its efforts to create an ‘official Islam’ and to rely heavily on the national unity discourse to do this. An article in 2007 argues that the idea of Copts as a minority was never heard throughout Egypt’s history until it was invented by Ibrahim (Zaydah, 11 July 2007). He goes on to write that to use the term minority undermines national unity and betrays the nation. Since this incident, reports of Coptic persecution in the foreign press have been met with a discourse of unity and denial of differences between Copts and Muslim Egyptians. To obtain a sense of the official policy on the use of the term over time, I conducted an analysis of articles on the issue of Copts as a minority using al-Ahram articles between 1998 and 2008. This survey revealed that the issue is normally only discussed in reaction to external coverage of Muslim–Copt relations. The question of whether the Copts are discoursed as a religious minority has become a national issue due to the perceived threat that foreign countries, mainly the USA or Israel, will use protection of minorities as a cover to interfere in Egyptian internal affairs. Increasingly, the Coptic diaspora has become the main target blamed for presenting false ideas to Western media about the Copts being a persecuted religious minority in Egypt. The issue is thus framed as a political one and the main characteristics of the discourse are the use of history to ‘prove’ that Muslims and Copts together constitute the national fabric and are inseparable from each other and from the nation. In this discourse, circulated by the mainstream media, difference on the basis of religion is a foreign idea imported by external enemies to weaken and divide Egypt. This discourse, which denies that Copts are a minority in any sense, is uniform, whether the writer is Muslim or Copt, and was echoed by Pope Shenouda and President Mubarak. National unity events, such as the Pope hosting the Grand Mufti of al-Azhar for Iftar in Ramadan, are mediated and presented to the public as further proof of national unity. While, at the same time, the Church quietly addresses the minority issues within the church space through particularistic media and Church meetings. While promoting ‘forgetfulness’ of religious difference, such media discourses do not necessarily promote acceptance of the other or full inclusion. It is a recurring observation that the failure to fully express or give space to the religious aspect of Coptic identity in the public space through the media and other state institutions clearly contributes to a sense of exclusion and to the perception that Copts are not represented accurately or sufficiently in

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Egyptian media. This is summarized by the following comments taken from responses to the survey of Coptic audiences on the question of the portrayal of Copts in Egyptian media: Of course everyone knows that the Copts have no voice in the media. (Male, Egypt) Most Egyptian media excludes Christians at all, which makes it seem as if we don’t even exist in the country. There was however a couple of shows that had Christians in them and they were portrayed as complete fools, it was embarrassing and foolish. (Female, USA) These responses counter Watson’s (2000: 11) suggestion that ‘Copts are often completely integrated into Egyptian society so that their religious identity dissolves into a national one’. This is illustrated by the following questionnaire answers giving reactions to the portrayal of Copts in media: Sometimes I feel they are aware of Coptic rights but are afraid and as a result do nothing, at other times I feel that they want us just to be satisfied with the current situation, still other times I feel they think they doing us a favour by allowing us to exist here. (Female, Egypt) They attack us always on TV. (Male, Italy) The tendency to exclude the faith aspect of Coptic identity in the media and the discourse of national unity gives the appearance that Coptic religious identity is dissolved into Egyptian identity. This underlines the shared linguistic and cultural identity of Egyptians; however, it does not prove that Coptic religious identity dissolves into the national identity. This is an issue of visibility in the public sphere and its discourses. For Copts, religion often underlines their national identity, due to the idea that Copts are the ‘pure’ descendants of the ancient Egyptians. In addition, the rich Christian heritage of Egypt through Egypt’s contribution to theology, the stories of saints and martyrs, monastic life and so on, results in an intertwining of religious identity into an Egyptian one, but it is not dissolved into the national one. The Church exerts considerable effort to maintain this dual approach to national belonging. As Galal (2012) neatly summarizes, ‘According to the Orthodox Coptic Church, the morally correct Coptic narrative is proactive and insists on national sameness and religious difference’. This discourse is difficult to actualize, as is clear from the content and use of Coptic-produced media, Coptic attitudes to Egyptian media and their sense of exclusion from it and the public space in general. Maintaining this dual approach can often mean that problems associated with representing Coptic identity in the public sphere are neglected for the sake of maintaining the status quo and socio-political stability. This is illustrated in the question of political representation. During the period around 1919, Christians were able to play a significant role in the public sphere,

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largely through the media and through the political party, al-Wafd. The most important aspect of this trend was that they did this on merit and as representatives of all Egyptians, rather than as representatives of Christian Egyptians. Therefore, it is remembered that in the period of dominance of al-Wafd, Makram Ebeid (a Christian) was elected in the Muslim-majority district of Seyeda Zeinab and Muslim candidates were elected in Christiandominated areas such as Shubra. In contrast, one of the six Christian candidates who made it to the second round in the 2005 parliamentary elections withdrew due to pressure from the local Christian community because they feared the election campaign would cause sectarian tensions (Soliman, 2006: 165–66). As Soliman points out, in the 2005 parliamentary elections there were only 81 Christian candidates. This represents a proportion well below that of the number of Christians in the Egyptian population (2006: 135). Furthermore, only one of the 81 candidates was able to win a seat in parliament through election. This was Yusef Boutros Ghali, a minister and high-profile figure backed by the NDP. According to Soliman, the difficulty of Christians winning election came to prominence after the 1952 Free Officers revolution. He points to the strong role played by Copts in the al-Wafd party prior to 1952 and that, in the first post-revolution election in 1957, no Christians won seats. To remedy this, Nasser introduced a clause in the constitution to allow ten appointees to parliament. Though not specifically mentioned, it is understood that the purpose of this was to appoint Christians to parliament. Mubarak also used this system to appoint women, so often the appointees include several Coptic women. The problem of electing marginalized sections of society, such as Christians and women, is a general observation of the Egyptian electoral system, which until 2011 was dominated first by the NDP and second by the Islamist stream led by the Muslim Brotherhood. Attempts to bring women into parliament were made by introducing a potential quota for women in July 2009. Introducing a similar quota for Christians is a more sensitive issue and an idea rejected by many Christians because of the hostility towards anything that implies that Christians are a minority. The dilemma of this lack of representation and difficulty of electing Christian candidates is problematic to address because of the power of the discourse against the minority label. The simple denial of the fact that, numerically and from the perspective of religious affiliations, Christians are a minority in Egypt, gives power to the unmentioned discourse of the other. Rather than addressing the negative understanding of the label minority and introducing a discourse not only of tolerance but of real acceptance of the other that could construct a minority as a valuable and enriching constituent of the social fabric, the differences are ‘forgotten’ as something unmentionable and therefore dangerous. In this case there is power in those discourses which are articulated but also in those not articulated. This context of fear of the label minority in the media

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perpetuates the idea that to talk about such an issue is to betray the nation and the Copts.

Shifting the boundary of ‘us’ and ‘them’ While it was often avoided in media discourses, the underlying problem of discrimination did require the Church and state to adopt new strategies in order to manage public and ‘official’ discourses of religion and national unity. The strategies of forgetting, displacement and of using non-official parallel channels to redirect and moderate the visibility and impact of sectarian violence in the public sphere, have not been sufficient to eliminate the long-term occurrences of inter-religious tensions. This was particularly clear in light of the increased polarization of political discourse under Mubarak into Islamist/secular discourse as represented by the two biggest players in parliament, namely the NDP and the Muslim Brotherhood.3 The move away from the ability of the state and the Church to entirely control media discourse on sectarianism, partly as a result of the increase in independent papers and the development of the Internet giving new opportunities for free speech and for reconnecting the diaspora and partly because frustrations need to be redirected, and the polarized political environment have necessitated new strategies. Two key strategies can be identified. One strategy, which became particularly noticeable from 2005 onwards, was the construction of a discourse of ‘extremists versus moderates’. National unity tries to create one ‘us’ from two acknowledged religious groups, so unity is based on connecting two groups defined by their religious affiliation, and even in spite of religious difference, rather than on integration. Therefore, ‘us’ and ‘them’ remains based on affiliation to Islam or Christianity. Beyond the Muslim–Copts dynamic, this discourse also overlooks the fact that the different Christian denominations become blurred by the use of the term Copt. It also overlooks the diversity of self-identification of religious groups and the fact that there are religious communities outside both Islam and Christianity in Egypt. One example is the Baha’i community, which faces very real marginalization in Egypt since it is not recognized as an official religious group. The construction of ‘outsider’ or ‘other’ is not simply a matter of denying a local cause for communal violence or placing blame on foreign forces. Since sectarianism is rejected outright as a real reflection of relations between Muslims and Christians in Egypt, the fact that there are incidents of communal violence must be explained in a way that finds a cause outside Egyptian society. This has become particularly pressing since increasingly open and accessible media makes it harder to simply place blame outside Egypt altogether. Whereas the reporting on the al-Kosheh incident almost seems to deny that the incident took place by apportioning blame to foreigners for grossly exaggerating the incident, communal violence is now reported much more frequently and fully in the media as a whole

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(Tadros, 2009).4 The emphasis is not so much on denying that an incident took place but more about placing doubt upon the causes behind it and mitigating damage to the current power structure and the stability of the national unity narratives that underpin the discourse of Egyptian politics and society. This has all contributed to the media becoming a key space within which to refute dissenting voices that could undermine the credibility of official discourse on Muslim–Christian relations. Therefore the media, along with the security services, formed part of the Egyptian state’s strategy in controlling religious identification. Safwat Al-Sherif, the Minister of Information throughout the 1980s and 1990s, noted that the media should be used to combat terrorism and that it is a weapon to defend the ‘true’ religion (Abaza, 2006: 16). Defending an official construction of true religion was the government’s strategy for managing popular religious identification and belonging while continuing to claim legitimacy from Islam. This strategy has been applied to television as well as to the press. Abu-Lughod undertook an examination of television serials and the way they have been used to discredit Islamists. In the 1990s she notes how soap operas began to portray Islamists negatively. In 1994 the series ‘The Family’ attempted to portray the difference between a moderate, and therefore ‘correct’ understanding of Islam, against a radical version by constructing the latter as ignorant and extreme. She also points to the use of such television serials to manage Muslim–Copt relations (Abu-Lughod, 2005: 176). In these ways, the media has been used to confront the problem of extremism and sectarianism by identifying religious extremism as the enemy of national unity and therefore the peace and stability of Egypt and all Egyptians. Extremism, uncoupled from religion, has become an objectified ‘other’ by redrawing the boundaries of difference (Hall and du Gay, 1996: 3). The construction of an ‘extreme other’ necessitates the existence of a ‘moderate us’ which becomes authentically normal. To do this, the recent incidents of communal discord are represented as a new phenomenon, while ignoring, at least in the official media discourse of Church and state, the violent sectarian incidents of the 1970s and early 1980s, such as Zawiya al Hamra in 1981. This is perhaps the worst incident of sectarian violence in modern Egypt. In June 1981, a dispute broke out over a piece of land thought to be owned by a Copt. Copts wanted to build a church there and to prevent this Muslims planned to build a mosque. Al-Jamiya al-Islamiya had a strong presence in this poor area of Cairo and they acted to escalate the situation. In the clashes that ensued 17 people were killed, 112 were injured and 171 shops and other properties were damaged (Ansari, 1986: 228). A mosque was eventually built on the site. Clearly, any new discourse of extremism had to be divorced from such attacks that were linked to radical Islamist groups in order to support the aim of divorcing extremism from Islamist terrorism. This was the implication of an article in al-Ahram, the headline of which was, ‘Interior Ministry

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Before Committee for Defence and National Security: Armed Robbery does not Discriminate between Coptic and Muslim Shops’ (al-Ahram, 8 June 2008). This article appeared after a spate of robberies at Coptic jewellery shops. This has considerable resonance because of the phenomenon of targeting Coptic jewellery shops by Islamist groups such as al-Jihad and Takfir wal Hijra, which became widespread in the second half of the twentieth century. This assertion that all Egyptians are vulnerable to extremist ideologies is to make the point that extremism is not tied to one religion or one country. This accounts for the stress placed by official media channels on combating extremist thought in both mosques and churches and among all Egyptians, whether Muslim or Christian (al-Ahram, 7 May 2006). This allows national identity to be set up according to particular values through constructing an in-group and an out-group to entrench a particular boundary of difference. Once this extremism is positioned as an enemy of Egypt and all Egyptians and as emerging from outside Egypt’s values and divorced from any one particular religion, this discourse can now be used to assert that what appears to be sectarianism is in fact extremism. An example of this argument can be found in an article with the headline, ‘Extremism Dressed up as Sectarianism’ (al-Ahram, 31 July 2008). The article attributes incidents of sectarianism to extremist interpretations of religion by foregrounding the universal nature of extremism, which has ‘no nationality, no religion and no sect’, and affirming that ‘some of its sources come from Muslims, some from Christians and other religions’. The article goes on to refer to the existence of foreign agendas and highlights Egypt’s long and peaceful history of Muslim–Christian co-existence. This long history is contrasted with the entirely new phenomenon of extremism. Another article underscores still further this sense of extremism being an aberration from the norm. Those who carry out violent attacks are literally described as ‘from another planet’ or as being mentally ill (Abdul Malak, 9 May 2006). Mental illness is a very common recourse for explaining the actions of an individual who carries out a seemingly random act of violence when no local dispute can be indicated as the catalyst. This explanation was used in the case of the man who attacked Christians in churches in Alexandria in the wake of the 2005 riots and also the policeman who killed one Copt and injured five others when he opened fire on a train in January 2011. As for broader radical movements that cannot be explained as individual cases of mental illness, these are often explained by the argument that extremism was brought to Egypt by Egyptians returning from the Gulf since the 1970s. In Oram-Edwards’s anthropological study of Copts in Cairo, she focused on the issue of space and the boundaries constructed within it. One of the key factors she observed was the effect of Egyptian Muslims returning from work in the Gulf region, bringing back a stricter ‘Wahhabi’ outlook on Islam. Using the term Wahhabi locates the source of this conservative religious outlook as Saudi Arabia where Wahhabism originated

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and therefore outside Egypt. Oram-Edwards conveyed a sense of the closing off of spaces that were once open between Muslims and Christians. In certain neighbourhoods Oram-Edwards described how particular streets were avoided by Coptic girls because they were known to be ‘Wahhabi’ areas and therefore were no longer accessible to them (Oram-Edwards, 2004: 102). These are some of the ways that public spaces in Cairo have become partitioned and engagement decreased. The ‘Wahhabi threat’ became a common discourse used by Egyptians in the 2005–10 period to describe the sense of a growing conservative and also foreign Islamist trend in Egypt. The media is one of the ways in which the influence of this ‘foreign’ form of Islam is most visible. These observations seem to be supported by media discourses. There are continual references, usually negative, to the ‘Wahhabi’ effect found in most types of Egyptian and Coptic media (al-Sayed, 23 November 2007). The perceived impact of this conservative trend on Egyptian public space is also widely discussed in the media. An article in al-Masry al-Youm criticizes the phenomenon of people using public transport to preach religion (Samir, 8 July 2009). This link between conservative Islamist movements and Saudi Arabia has evolved in the post-25 January political scene. The dramatic re-emergence of Salafist groups, who have become the shorthand for alluding to ultraconservative Islamist movements, as the new threat to the civil state means that the threat of the Muslim Brotherhood and the Wahhabis has been overshadowed by a discourse that categorizes extremist Islamists groups as Salafis. These Salafis are then constructed as being promoted and funded by foreigners. This link was already in place and the impact of Salafists was being discussed in Egypt’s public sphere when, in his first interview after his appointment as the new head of al-Azhar in March 2010, Sheikh Ahmed al-Tayeb pointed to the need to address the influence of Salafist satellite television channels in Egypt. In fact, al-Azhar has established its own satellite channel to try to counter the Salafist channels. In a post-Mubarak Egypt, where the Muslim Brotherhood is no longer the forbidden group it once was, the Salafists have stepped into the role of the extremist threat to society. This explains why, when the Israeli embassy in Cairo was attacked by protesters on 9 September 2011, the Saudi embassy was also targeted. Saudi Arabia has been accused of financing Salafi groups who are believed to have been behind a series of violent attacks in Egypt and there were a number of peaceful protests held outside the Saudi embassy after the 25 January revolution calling for a halt to this alleged funding. This phenomenon of extremism and violence is often presented in the press as threatening the character of Egyptian society and requires everyone to unite with the state against it and to return to Egypt’s authentic culture of tolerance (Gamal al-Din, 27 August 2008). The state’s capacity to maintain control over this wave of extremism is essential because the matter of who is part of the imagery of the nation is crucial in setting up the terms of

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belonging and the symbolic power of the nation (Phizacklea and Westwood, 2000: 31). The importance of the media for disseminating the imagery of the nation is clear and contributes to the ability of the state to set itself up as the defender of national unity so that loyalty to one is synonymous with loyalty to the other and necessitates opposition to extremism. The same logic has been used effectively by the Church. Coptic fears of becoming victim to religious extremism encourage loyalty to a Church that defends Coptic interests and to a state that is also at war with extremism. Mubarak’s suppression of Jihadist groups in the 1990s served to reinforce this view and Pope Shenouda often made this link between the reduction of the violence against Copts in the 1970s and 1980s and Mubarak’s presidency. This link was made explicitly in an article that attributed the transformation of a dispute over a piece of land into a sectarian incident as being the direct result of the absence of the state or its institutions in that village (al-Ahram, 31 July 2008). This is a very different message to that of an article which was published by a left-leaning independent newspaper, al-Badeel. In the article, the author renames the National Security Service as the Ministry of Sectarianism (al-Badeel, 24 November 2007). According to the author, it is actually the security services that exacerbate local disputes and transform them into widescale inter-communal violence. Nevertheless, despite this entirely different interpretation of the way sectarian incidents start, the article concludes, like the vast majority of those in the Egyptian media, that national unity is the only solution, although there is no real attempt to analyse why it has failed so far or how it can be actualized in reality. If national unity was established across Egyptian media as a sacred concept synonymous with an authentic Egypt and the state was set up as its only true protector according to official media, until 2011 the Muslim Brotherhood was the most common personification of the enemies of national unity (al-Ahram, 28 November 2005). One article published in January 2007 describes the Muslim Brotherhood as the very antithesis of human rights and democracy. The article quotes a statement issued by nine human rights organizations, which warns of the dangers of the Muslim Brotherhood’s ideology because it does not comply with Egyptian law and institutions (al-Ahram, 17 January 2007). According to the article, this constitutes a threat to national unity and therefore to all Egyptians. In fact, there is a general tendency to essentialize the various religious groups. Thus it is counter-productive to engage with the diversity within the groups. Representing Copts as a unified bloc, with the Coptic Pope as its one legitimate voice, enables the state and the Coptic Church to manage social and political relationships upon a foundation of fixed and stable boundaries. It also keeps media discourses within manageable boundaries that do not allow an opening up of the issues to public scrutiny. A similar strategy can be observed in the utilization of the discourse of extremism. Setting up extremism as an enemy of the state and the Egyptian people, which needs to be forcibly restrained, supports the government approach of

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dealing with sectarianism as a matter of security. In this way, disputes could be dealt with by the security services, often avoiding the involvement of courts, instead using informal reconciliation meetings. Keeping the solution outside the courts avoids enlarging the issue into a social and political one. Instead it remains a marginal issue requiring only a security solution and therefore stays under the control of the state and away from public view. When establishing this enemy and constructing this discourse of extremists versus moderates, it is not only Islamist groups that are represented as implicitly extreme. Since religion must be uncoupled from extremism to enable this discourse to operate as a tool for national unity, extremism must also be found in other groups which can be similarly constructed as traitors to Egypt, Egyptian values and national unity between the two elements of the social fabric. Thus Egyptians must defend themselves from the threat of the extreme other. Whenever articles refer to extremists, this is generally clarified further as extremists among Muslims and Christians. One tactic used by writers discussing sectarianism is, rather than discussing it as a broad phenomenon, to discuss it as a problem of extreme individuals or certain small groups. Perhaps the most cited example is that of Zakaria Boutros, a former Coptic priest who used to appear regularly on the controversial satellite television station, al-Hayat. This channel, whose presenters are largely converts from Islam to Christianity and whose programming seeks to critique Islam, has provoked anger across the Islamic world and Boutros is set up as symbol of Christian extremism to parallel Islamist figures. Boutros is represented as causing sectarianism in Egypt and his channel is rejected by the Coptic Church (Abul Rish, 30 August 2009; Bayoumi, 7 August 2009). The Church fired him from his post as a parish priest and distanced itself by accusing Boutros of failing to following the true teachings of the Coptic Orthodox Church (Khalil, 2 November 2009; al-Hawary, 26 December 2008). Yet he was not excommunicated. As well as individuals like Boutros, a particular target is the Christian diaspora which generally receives little support from either the Church or the state in the pages of the official press. The political activism of some elements of the Coptic diaspora, their foreign nationalities and residence in the West are used to designate them as outsiders and even traitors (Samy, 29 October 1998; Hafez, 11 November 1998). Most notably, they are portrayed as extremists on the fringe, distancing them from the majority of Copts, both in the diaspora and in Egypt. While the majority are loyal to Egypt despite living outside the homeland (Gad, 9 November 1998), the minority is portrayed as using the media to exploit incidents such as alKosheh to accuse the Egyptian government of the persecution of Christians, which betrays Egypt’s reputation (Hafez, 11 November 1998). Not only have these elements of the diaspora physically left Egypt but they have become traitors to national unity by publicizing conflict between Muslims and Christians. Their actions therefore constitute a threat to national unity and Egyptian values.

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For these reasons, they are designated as extremists (al-Bayoumi, 5 November 2009) and ‘other’ in parallel to Islamists groups, both of whom were represented as fringe groups threatening the true and authentic nature of the Egyptian state. Radical Islamist groups in Egypt have been constructed as foreign or unnatural by foregrounding their origin and backing as stemming from Wahhabi ideologues in the Gulf. In the same way, diaspora Coptic activists are represented as being backed by forces in America and Europe. Writing in al-Masry al-Youm, Gamal al-Banna, the Egyptian intellectual and writer and brother of Muslim Brotherhood founder Hasan al-Banna, accused diaspora Copts of using ‘western’ language such as human rights to promote a foreign agenda (al-Banna, 24 October 2007). Sectarianism is created by extreme individuals such as Michael Mounier, the head of a major Coptic diaspora group called US Copts, and Boutros who, he claims, are aiming to destroy Egyptian sovereignty and unity. He goes so far as to suggest that there is a desire to establish a Coptic nation on part of Egypt’s territory and that Mounier has encouraged Coptic youth inside Egypt to act as spies. Such accusations are not new and construct Copts as fifth column, as other to Muslim Egyptians and a potential enemy to the Egyptian nation. These types of accusation are not unique. They formed part of Sadat’s 1981 speech, during the period of the worst sectarian violence witnessed in modern Egypt. Through Father Matta Salib, Pope Shenouda pointed to his belief that discussing Coptic issues outside the Egyptian national space increases problems rather than solves them (Sadeq, 6 January 2008; American Copts, 18 August 2009). As well as being constructed as ‘extreme other’, like the Brotherhood had been, the diaspora must be undermined in the popular consciousness. One way is to quote Coptic figures within Egypt to contradict statements made by diaspora Copts. In one article, Coptic MP Georgette Qelleni is quoted as saying, ‘it is not permissible for any Egyptian, whether Muslim or Copt to attack his country and their [Coptic diaspora] previous attempts to point to the difference between Muslims and Copts in Egypt have failed’ (al-Ahram, 8 June 2008). Quoting Coptic voices from within Egypt to criticize Copts in the diaspora sets up difference based on ‘patriotic Egyptian’ versus ‘unpatriotic Egyptian’, rather than constructing religion as the boundary. In the article that represents national unity through a friendship between a Muslim and a Christian, this close relationship is contrasted with the relationship between the Coptic diaspora and Egypt. The two men in the story express their hurt at the statements of the Coptic diaspora, which they feel demonstrates that the diaspora is not concerned for the welfare of ‘Egypt’s Children’, whereas Egyptians within Egypt, both Muslims and Christians, work together for their mutual benefit, such as fighting side by side for Egypt in the 1973 war (Hendy, 23 February 2007). The Coptic diaspora, and particularly its human rights activism, is represented as other and distant as well as extreme and threatening and, therefore, the Coptic Church does not publically support the Coptic diaspora in

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the official or the wider Egyptian press (al-Ahram Center for Strategic Studies, 2005). One reason for this is the strong ties between the Church and the state and its support for the national unity discourse. It is not necessarily detrimental to the Church that the state undermines the legitimacy of extremist religious discourse, because this undermines radical Islamist groups that have dominated political resistance narratives among Egyptians. It also limits the credibility of resistance discourses, such as those in the Coptic diaspora. Supporting the national unity discourse preserves the balance of power in the political system and enables the Church to continue to act as the representative of official Copticness. This official Copticness did not give space to any narratives that could be detrimental to the delicate relationship between Church and state and prefers to focus on the pre-Arab era in constructing Coptic heritage and on the discourse of ‘the miracle of survival’ of the Church rather than the problems that make this survival a miracle (Botros, 2006).

Al-Mowatana: rebranding national unity One of the strategies adopted by the state during Mubarak’s later years as president to address the Muslim–Christian violence was to promote the concept of al-Mowatana. This term is usually translated to ‘citizenship’ in English but its use in Arabic refers specifically to the idea of the practice of the full rights of citizenship and not simply legal citizenship. While national unity is an idea or a metaphor, the term al-Mowatana refers to a culture of citizenship that was increasingly used as a more substantive label for the aspiration of creating an inclusive and equal society. A national identity involves being situated physically, legally and socially, as well as emotionally (Billig, 1995) whereas citizenship is a legal status which is more neutral than ideas of nationalism. However, when the establishment of a civil state and the meaning of citizenship are discussed, it becomes clear that the debate revolves around the primacy of Islam in the institution of any new political system. The fear that political reform will weaken Islam and Islamic identity was played upon on a number of occasions post-25 January, including during the campaigns for the referendum on the constitutional amendments in March 2011 and the launch of the ‘Friday of Islamic identity’ protest march on 29 July 2011. The question of where non-Muslims fit into this civil state and what their citizenship means is then central to the discussion. Moreover, the increased mediation of sectarianism, visibility of the Coptic diaspora’s political activists, and even the tendency of the West to tie the issue of minority rights in the Middle East to foreign policy, has also constructed the Coptic issue as a national one at the core of Egyptian politics. The solution to this dilemma for Mubarak was the introduction of the principle of al-mowatana, or the practice of citizenship. Since the constitutional amendments in 2006, the concept of al-mowatana was vigorously re-visited and re-branded as the solution to numerous social issues, including

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the Coptic issue, sectarian violence, human rights standards and gender equality. In the same way that the state portrayed itself as the protector of national unity, it also portrayed itself as the champion of al-mowatana. The constitutional amendments proposed by Mubarak in December 2006 which came into force in March 2007 sought to enshrine the idea of al-mowatana. Al-Ahram highlighted and praised Mubarak’s efforts to establish the principle of citizenship in Article 1 of the Constitution (Hegab, 12 February 2008). Although the term was used prior to 2005, it was not as widely expressed in the press, which focused on national unity. After 2006, al-mowatana amounted to the institutionalizing of national unity in the constitutional and legal culture of the state (al-Ahram, 31 July 2008) and, as with the national unity discourse, it was able to cross the boundaries of the various political streams and social strata of Egyptian society. The attempts of the media to present citizenship discourses and incorporate them into debates touching on national identity and Muslim–Copt relations were not straight forward or uniform. From the uses of the concept it is clear that there was no unified understanding of what citizenship means in the Egyptian context or how it is best implemented. Nevertheless, like national unity, the citizenship discourse was invested with moral status (Milani, 2007). While the existence of national unity cannot be questioned because it is a cultural position that is represented as being an eternal and natural part of Egyptian national consciousness, it was easier to discuss the implications of al-mowatana. Although al-mowatana was also represented as inherently good, it was a practical policy that was not pre-existing but that needed to be implemented. This practical aspect could be debated by the media, and the press repeatedly questioned how the concept of al-mowatana could be implemented at the grassroots. The inability to question national unity limited the ability of the public sphere to face the issue of tensions between the ‘two elements of the Egyptian social fabric’ (Abdel Wahab, 17 October 2009; al-Shobaky, 13 June 2010; Abul-Ghar, 11 July 2010). At the same time, national unity has normalized a social structure based on religious difference. Some Egyptian activists felt that al-mowatana had the potential to change this dynamic because citizenship rests on equality before the state on the basis of a neutral concept of belonging. Al-mowatana became popular with secular activists, such as the ‘Misryon Against Religious Discrimination’ (MARED) movement, because it offered a mechanism for reconstructing relations between Muslims and Christians in a way that enables the minority to redefine itself to gain legitimacy and authority to interpret their experience and represent it to the majority (Kramarae et al., 1984: 207). It held out the possibility of constructing an inclusive ideology. The same motivation formed part of the inspiration of the Arabism movement, whose early proponents were Levantine Christians seeking to redraw boundaries of belonging and identity (Antonius, 1969).

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Nasr (2006: 110) points to a similar motivation for the initial enthusiasm of Arab Shia for Arab nationalist ideologies. In both cases, religious minority groups were seeking a framework for inclusion on an equal basis and regardless of religion. This is why the editor of Watani repeatedly stressed, during my interview with him, that implementing a culture of citizenship and encouraging the political participation of Copts as Egyptian citizens, not as a religious bloc, is their main challenge.5 Indeed, it is a challenge that was not even solved during the period of al-Wafd, when national unity narratives were at their height and despite the increased ability of Copts to participate in politics, they still faced the dilemma of how to reconcile the expectations of Copts and the principle of representing all Egyptians. The al-mowatana debate represents an attempt to resolve this dilemma. The citizenship discourse has the potential to do this because is not limited only to the question of equality regardless of religion, but also incorporates a concept of universal equality. For example, gender equality is also a very visible component of the al-mowatana debate. The real potential of al-mowatana stems from the fact that it is not constructed on a framework of religious belonging alone. Al-mowatana also formed part of the discourse of extremism versus the state and national unity. In an article in January 2007, the concept of a religious state is compared with a state based on citizenship. In this construction, citizenship creates equality and an inclusive state, whereas the religious state equals extremism and discrimination, or an exclusive state (Asfoor, 29 January 2007). The religious state, which is the implied result of accepting a group such as the Muslim Brotherhood or any group that opposes the state’s acceptable moderate construction of religious identity, threatens national unity and a true understanding of citizenship. It is therefore constructed as threatening for all. A religious state is represented as a threat to all the values discussed above, which are part of the collective memory of Egyptian history and values. In contrast, a state based on citizenship upholds and implements them. This is underlined by quoting a prominent slogan from the national unity movement of the early twentieth century that still holds resonance for the collective memory of national unity today, ‘Religion is for God but the nation is for everyone’, whereas, ‘Extremism forms the basis of the religious state’ (ibid). This discourse is further underlined and linked more explicitly to the Muslim Brotherhood in another article that plays on the slogan that the Muslim Brotherhood used in their 2005 election campaign; ‘Islam is the Solution’. The article argues that, ‘Citizenship is the solution’ (Abdul Malak, 9 May 2006). After Mubarak announced his intention to amend the constitution, some saw this as an opportunity to reopen discussions on Article 2 and it expanded into a debate in Coptic media, especially on Coptic diaspora activist sites, and to a lesser extent in the Egyptian press. The debate which followed in the media illustrated the dilemma of trying to reconcile Egypt’s religioninfused political narratives of nation with the establishment of a secular

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rights-based citizenship discourse. Part of the debate highlighted the question of whether Article 1, enshrining citizenship, and Article 2, which states that Egypt’s official religion is Islam and Islamic Sharia is the principal source of law, are to some extent contradictory or even mutually exclusive. Comments by Egyptian intellectual and writer Gamal Al-Banna in al-Masry al-Youm highlighted this underlying difficulty. During the debate on amending Article 2, he published an article in which he thanked Pope Shenouda for confronting those Copts calling for amendments to Article 2, because al-Banna argues, ‘this matter does not concern them’. This is an interesting attitude considering that al-Banna is talking about the Egyptian constitution and claiming that one of its articles cannot justifiably be discussed by Copts, who are also represented as ‘them’. Also noteworthy is that he thanks Pope Shenouda for his interference in a political, and therefore ostensibly civil, matter and represents Article 2 as a protector of citizenship rights (al-Banna, 14 March 2007). In fact, on this issue the NDP, Muslim Brotherhood and the Church were united in their rejection of revising Article 2, whereas Egyptian secularists and diaspora Copts were those most vocal in calling for its revision or removal. The Cairo Centre for Human Rights launched an appeal to change the article, which was signed by 200 of the most prominent secularists in Egypt (Sharaf al-Din, 12 March 2007; Khalil, 13 March 2007). The majority of the signatories were Muslim, with some active Coptic figures, such as Magdy Khalil from the Coptic diaspora, Mamdouh Nakhla, president of the al-Kelma Centre for Human Rights, writer and researcher Sameh Fawzy and Eshaq Hanna of the Egyptian Association for Enlightenment. The amendments suggested by this appeal included four points. The first point concerned describing Islam as the religion of majority rather than the religion of the state. The second point suggested designating the values and principles of religions as one of the main sources of legislation as long as they do not contradict Egypt’s obligations under international treaties, human rights or the principle of citizenship and equality before law. The third point stated that citizens should enjoy civil freedoms independent of their individual religious beliefs. The fourth point proposed that the State should be neutral towards all religions and beliefs of citizens. All four of these suggestions identify the underlying issue, which is that the state is not currently neutral in respect of religion and that Article 2 supports and even promotes this position. Magdy Khalil described this in his article as a kind of institutional discrimination practised by the state (13 March 2007). The way the media has covered the question of Islam as the official religion and also religious conversion clearly illustrates the difficulties and challenges facing the construction of citizenship discourses as entities separate from membership of religious groups. This undermines the aim of producing a culture of equal citizenship without regard to religion from this discourse (Bayoumi, 11 February 2008).6 Such discontent regarding the

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influence of religion on the operation of the public-sphere and national institutions lay behind the discussions of the diaspora Copts who ignored the advice of Pope Shenouda and continued to discuss the amendment of Article 2 or even its cancellation (Girgis, 9 November 2009). As acknowledged in the points put forward in the appeal, Islam is the religion of the majority of Egyptians but a state is neutral and does not have a religion. Still, the third element is less of a red line and there is broader support for its amendment. In the Coptic diaspora forums, amendments of Article 2 were discussed as a general principle but more detailed comments referred largely to the removal of Sharia as the principal source of law (Eid, 6 August 2009; Yuta, 26 November 2006). Comments on the forums reflected a sense that non-Muslims feel they are deprived of equal rights as a consequence of the implementation of Sharia law (Bushra, 4 July 2009; Fikry, 6 August 2009). Watani followed this pattern, calling for Article 2 to be reformed in general. Islam as the religion of the state was mentioned but the most significant criticism was reserved for the mention of as Sharia the main source of law (Fikry, circa 22 January 2008; Sidhom, circa April 2008; Daniel and Shokry, circa 11 April 2008). This contrasts with al-Dostour, which published two articles that equated challenging the content of Article 2 with challenging the national character of Egypt and also citizenship (alQuddousy, 26 February 2010; al-Banna, 8 January 2010). This implies that Egypt’s national culture is understood as Islamic culture. Not only do these articles present Article 2 as being in harmony with creating a culture of citizenship, but they present the Article as expressing and defending citizenship rights. The newspaper al-Wafd used the mechanism of placing blame on outsiders. According to the article, those encouraging the amendment of Article 2 wish to harm Egypt because this Article is represented as protecting the Egyptian nation and its identity (Tag al-Din, 5 June 2010). Also in al-Wafd, the deputy president of al-Ahram Centre for Strategic Studies, Wahid Abdul-Mageed, argued for a new understanding of the implications Article 2 and its implementation within a civil state rather than its amendment. However, realistically a reinterpretation of the role of religion in political life, without a reconstruction of the legal and political culture in a way that does not draw legitimacy from Islam, is currently too great a challenge.

Conclusion Where national institutions are not neutral, national identity and the public sphere cannot be neutral. The result of this is exclusion and national discourse constructed on this framework of exclusion/inclusion. In the Egyptian context this exclusion/inclusion is based on religious identity and therefore national issues and socio-political resistance are framed in terms of religion. This has been tackled in a number of ways. There are

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contradictions in promoting a secular polity based on citizenship while at the same time implementing policies, and using discourses, that privilege religion. This is particularly problematic because it privileges one section of the nation, albeit the majority, based on religious affiliation. The main consequence of the exclusion is sectarian tensions. This is approached through discourses of national unity and displacement, either by forgetting or by placing the blame on an othered ‘them’. The implicit ideology in discourses of the state and the Church undermines messages of political participation, unity and equality before law. The social and political climate, as reflected in the press, shows that it is increasingly vital that the questions of national identity and belonging that have been debated throughout the history of the press be addressed openly. This also avoids creating a monolithic discourse of one Coptic community in which Copts are represented in relation or in contrast to Muslim Egyptians (Ibrahim, 2011). In the early twentieth century, national unity discourse focused on Egyptianism or Pharoahism, but the national unity discourse of ‘cross and crescent’ that emerged from 1919 normalizes a division of the social fabric based on religion while proclaiming that Egyptians are united, in spite of this difference. Publicly combining political and religious authority adds further complications because dissent and discontent expressed through religious leaderships give the boundary between Muslims and Christians more visibility. Both feel threatened by the other in terms of their religious identity (Fox, 2002: 109). This impulse is not simply imposed on Copts but Copts also often seek to differentiate their identity from an Egyptian identity which is in some respects presented as Islamic or Arabic, and from other interpretations of Christianity that do not fit with its Coptic orthodox doctrines, as well as an understanding of Copticness as the authentic form of Christianity in Egypt. Because the national institutions and the public space are not neutral in terms of religion, this has implications for how Copts position themselves vis-à-vis national identity. Under threat, this religious element in identity then becomes highlighted and reinforced in resisting the perceived threat. Ethnic elements complicate the issue, with Copts taking pride in an ancient Egyptian heritage and constructing Copts as the inheritors of this civilization while placing Muslims outside belonging to this inheritance through labelling them as Arab. Thus ideas of belonging in terms of ethnicity and heritage criss-cross the religious, ethnic and national boundaries of belonging. These nuanced understandings of individual attachments to different elements in their identity must not be overlooked. Nevertheless, this research has repeatedly revealed that the delineation of insider/outsider often takes on such importance that there is a tendency to focus on belonging to, and the preserving of a collective consciousness of the community’s religious identity. Since Islam is the religion of the majority, it is more visible in shared public spaces. The response of many Copts in the latter half of the twentieth century and start of the twenty-first has been withdrawal

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into the Church, which serves to entrench the power of religious belonging. Under the terms of the Church–state relationship, the Church has authority to represent the Coptic community. This ensures that primary concerns are often expressed as maintaining this space and its boundaries to preserve stability and avoid violent contestations over public spaces.

Part III

Challenging regimes of representation

6

Resisting Church leadership through media Dissent and legitimacy 2005–10

The official discourses promoted by the Church and the Mubarak government regarding the role of the Church reveal the considerable importance placed upon the unifying of the discourse of Coptic identity around a collective idea of a Coptic community centred on the office of the Patriarch. This book has argued that the ability of the Church to exercise such an authority and to control the media output on and by Copts, is partly due to its existence in a context that accepts combined religious, social and political leadership. In response, the Church has actively sought out the leadership of the Coptic community as a specific identity-group. The Church has also clearly been among the main driving forces in publishing in Egypt and has taken full advantage of advances in communications technology, both to reinforce ties with and among the wider Coptic community and to promote adherence to a unified understanding of Coptic beliefs and heritage. Despite the clear authority and legitimacy that the Church leadership exercised during the period of this research and for most of Pope Shenouda’s reign as Patriarch, this did not go entirely unchallenged. In fact there has always been contestation within the Coptic community, as Ibrahim (2011) demonstrates. As shown by the fall of Mubarak, entrenchment of authority does not last indefinitely because it must be continuously negotiated to maintain credibility and divert dissent. Furthermore, changed social, political and economic circumstances alter the terms and boundaries of contestation. Rapid developments in both media technology and the use of this technology are factors that contributed to help change the terms of contestation with the Mubarak regime. Between 2000 and 2010, political activists challenged authority, broadened the boundaries of discourses and contested the doxa that had constructed Mubarak’s ruling dynasty as inevitable and incontestable. This chapter will examine the processes of dissent during the same period within Coptic circles concerning the leadership role performed by the Patriarch. Previous chapters established the role of the Church in constructing a Coptic community defined by centralized discourses and how this is presented in the media. This chapter will also examine whether other sections of this Coptic community have the authority and legitimacy to

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challenge or contribute to the construction of these discourses. This is pertinent because understandings, representations and interpretations of ‘truth’ are intimately related to power and thus processes of inclusion/exclusion and the ideologies underlying them (Foucault 2007: 201). The focus is not on establishing objective truth but on who produces the dominant discourses, and thus claims to have truth, as well as on who contests them. In dealing with discourses then, we are dealing with the normalization of knowledge and ideology into truths or regimes of representation and the power that this affords (Cottle, 2000: 36). If, as Bourdieu asserts (1999: 170–71), language and discourse draw legitimacy and authority from the groups over which they exert their power, then it is vital to analyse the strategies utilized by the Church leadership and its challengers from within the group that the Church seeks to represent. This will shed light on the question of whether there is a dialectical relationship between authorized and authorizing in the case of Coptic representation. Dominant Church-managed discourses exist alongside demotic discourses, but this is inevitable if we agree with Foucault that there are no relations of power without resistances (Kulynych, 1997: 328). Reactions and strategies employed in relation to the dominant discourses are thus central to the performance of Coptic belonging, so it is pertinent to examine if and how Church discourse is challenged and whether this represents a threat to the legitimacy of the Church. To answer this question, the ways in which the Church frames debates that run outside or counter to dominant discourses are examined. Questions are also posed as to whether discourses of dissent actually legitimize the Church when it ‘authorizes’ the dissent and holds it up as evidence of freedom of speech. Both Nasser and Mubarak have allowed criticism, within controlled limits, to appear in the media to give an impression of democracy and freedom of speech and to co-opt opposition voices. Finally, I will consider whether these demotic discourses are necessarily dissenting or whether they are attempting to construct alternative or parallel standards for dialogue that can coexist with the dominant discourse without openly challenging it. Taking into account these approaches to legitimacy and dissent, the implications of the resistance and alternative discourses for the relationship between the Church and the state and their official media discourses during the Mubarak–Shenouda period will be explored. This will indicate whether Coptic media is beholden to the Church as a result of its rise to prominence as political actor and whether Coptic voices in national media and online are completely submerged by the official state-Church discourses. Specific mediated debates will be analysed in order to illustrate the way in which media is used by different actors (who can be broadly identified as Church, Coptic elite, state, diaspora and, to some extent and thanks to the development of electronic media, the wider Coptic laity) involved in the production and management of media discourse by and about Copts.

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Dissenting discourses and sustaining Church legitimacy The Church has repeatedly asserted its right to authority over the representation of Copts and the Coptic Church in the media. In 2004, the Church brought a case against the film Baheb al Cima. This film, released in 2004, was based on the lives of the various members of a Coptic family. Among the objections voiced were the portrayal of the father as holding extreme religious views, and an unmarried couple using the church as a place to meet in secret. There was popular outcry against the content of the film, which many Copts felt portrayed Copts and Christianity in a negative light. Ironically, this film was written and directed by Copts but the reaction of Church and community illustrates the fears of the Coptic community about the impact of being portrayed negatively in the public sphere. Likewise, the Church brought a case against the film Wahed-Sifr in 2009 because it contained a sub-plot that touched on the issue of Coptic divorce laws. The justification was the Church’s claim of authority to revise all films related to any Coptic issues before filming (al-Ahram, 3 July 2009). As a result, the permission of the Church was sought before the filming of Hasan wa Murqos, a film about a Coptic priest and a Muslim sheikh, began. This film was an exercise in the mediation of national unity and was welcomed by many Copts and Muslims as a positive gesture towards reducing intercommunal tensions and reaffirming the national unity paradigm. The need for the Church’s permission was thus integral to this film project’s aims and underlines the Church’s prominent position in efforts to promote unity and stability, which is seen as crucial by many Copts in securing their status in society. This function of the Church is normalized at the level of the state and a significant proportion of Egyptian society, as well as within the Church itself. Writing in Roz al-Yusef, Anba Beshoy criticized the newspaper for publishing attacks on the Church without giving the articles to the Church for review before publication (Beshoy, 11 August 2006). To maintain this authority it is crucial that the Church is invested with legitimacy by its community and the context from which it emerges. According to the official discourse of Church and state, the Church is the only legitimate voice with the authority to speak at the national political level for a Coptic people. Consequently, it might appear inevitable that there is a lack of sufficient neutral space to challenge this. However, there are actors within the Coptic community that can and do challenge the Church’s discourse. The case of Atef Kyrilos, who obtained a civil divorce through the Egyptian courts and later went through the courts to obtain permission to remarry, is one example of how individual Copts have attempted to challenge the Church through civil legal channels. The Coptic Church refused to implement his permission to remarry within the Church and the issue of whether the Church was obliged to implement the court ruling became a significant media topic from the end of 2007 until early 2008. The debate has continued to develop but this period only will be used here.

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The divorce/remarriage issue is related to the internal affairs of the Coptic Church and community, as well as the Church’s authority as a national institution. Therefore it can reveal relations of power among Copts and also the Church vis-à-vis the state. The debates on this topic can be roughly divided into those that treat the subject as theological, basing their arguments on interpreting Christian doctrine, and those that treat it as a sociopolitical question related to redefining Egypt as a purely secular state. A significant number of articles contained a combination of these two positions but favoured one or the other of these stances. The Church represented this matter as one of upholding God’s law, as an internal question with no bearing on national social or legal norms. Therefore, national laws were dismissed as inapplicable. This would appear to be a challenge to the authority of the state and to confirm perennial accusations that the Pope is operating a ‘state within the state’. The state did not challenge this apparent affront. Meanwhile, the independent papers defended the authority of the state and the rights of Copts to seek a divorce or permission to remarry. In al-Masry al-Youm, the court position was presented as one of seeking the middle ground. According to the article, the court advised Pope Shenouda to refrain from exceeding his authority and to find a balance between taking decisions on the basis of religion and on the basis of the rights of citizens according to the constitution. The Church is set up as a national institution that is part of the state but that is trying to supersede its position and this threatens the Copts, who must be defended as part of one indivisible Egyptian nation. The Church is the aggressor and the Copt is the victim of its power plays, reversing the Church discourse of the Church as protector of the Copts and Pope Shenouda as the benevolent father of the Copts (Bayoumi and al-Qarnashawi, 2 March 2008). While government and Coptic papers remained neutral or ostensibly supported the Church position, criticism was mainly heard in the independent newspapers. Since the Coptic-produced newspapers are largely loyal to the Church and official papers to the official Church–state discourse of mutual support, the national independent newspapers act as the platform for engaging with issues around authority within the Coptic community. Apart from al-Fagr and a number of Islamist-leaning newspapers, it was in Roz al-Yusef that the most severe criticism of the Church was found. While this paper is frequently used by members of the Secular Copts Front as a platform to defend themselves against articles published elsewhere criticizing their ideas and characters, it should be pointed out that the articles critical of the Pope and Church were not normally written by Coptic journalists. While certain newspapers carry criticism of the Church, the Coptic journalists associated with the newspaper often avoid directly presenting this criticism themselves. The articles in Roz al-Yusef used several strategies to criticize the Church position on the Kyrilos case. The first was setting up an us/them paradigm

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which challenges the Church’s legitimacy to speak on behalf of Copts. In one article, Atef Kyrilos is twice referred to as, ‘Am (uncle) Atef ’ and also, ‘our brother in the Egyptian nation and Constitution’ (al-Kharbawy, 20 March 2008). This sets up a relationship between the reader and Atef and establishes solidarity between him and all Egyptian citizens. This solidarity is underlined in several other ways. The article goes on to say, ‘we are a constitutional state’ and that the Church is an Egyptian institution that is subordinate to the state and to our court. This final sentence also suggests that the criticism is aimed at Pope Shenouda, more than at the Church itself or its teachings. A further article in Roz al-Yusef refers to Pope Shenouda as the ‘religious president’ (al-Gazawy, 16 March 2008). He is set up as a dictator who is preventing his citizens, al-Sha’ab al Qibti al-Masry (the Egyptian Coptic people) from enjoying the personal freedoms guaranteed by the Egyptian constitution. The use of this phrase is significant. It is one popularized by Pope Shenouda, except in this instance the qualifier ‘Egyptian’ is added to the term. This is a message to say that the Coptic people are still Egyptian and thus under the authority of the Egyptian state. This stance is in line with Roz al-Yusef ’s pro-secular, pro-national unity agenda. Roz al-Yusef was not the only paper to take a strong position against the actions of Pope Shenouda in this case. An article in al-Fagr also severely attacked Pope Shenouda’s actions (al-Baz, 17 March 2008). In this article the writer, again notably a Muslim, blames Pope Shenouda for ‘massacring’ Copts, who are framed as the victims of the Church. The writer accuses Pope Shenouda of behaving like a President who sees himself as above the law and who is committing a criminal act in destroying Coptic families through his ‘tyranny’. An earlier article targeted Pope Shenouda directly and compared his papacy to an ‘earthquake bringing destruction’ to Copts (al-Baz, 4 February 2008). Al-Fagr tends to be sensationalist, either heavily supportive or heavily critical of the Church, but its direct and harsh criticism of the Pope is exceptional. The articles that take this critical position set up the argument as one against the person of Pope Shenouda, rather than the teachings themselves. According to the article, in the past Copts were known to have low rates of divorce and crime, in contrast with the present. Again, none of the writers of the articles that criticize Pope Shenouda in this way are Coptic, suggesting a reluctance among Copts to directly challenge the person of the Pope. It does illustrate the ability of the national media to act as a critical space and the contrast in approach on the basis of religious belonging. Coptic writers must achieve a delicate balance in their discourse in the press. Christian writers, even those who are from denominations other than the Coptic Orthodox Church, did widely debate the issue of divorce but the approach taken by the majority of them was to address it through theological discussion. In Roz al-Yusef, Ikram Lama’i, a prominent pastor in the Egyptian Evangelical Church, wrote a series of articles discussing the theology of marriage and divorce in Christian scripture.

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Lama’i and the other Christian columnists regularly used language that incorporates biblical references. They employed Christian teachings and Bible quotes to substantiate their claims, while also linking the religious references to a wider discussion of social and political issues. The use of religious references orients them, establishes their credentials to address topics concerning Egyptian Christians and to address an audience, which as a whole invests authenticity in its ecclesiastical institutions and leadership. In the third article in the series (Lama’i, 31 March 2008), Lama’i implicitly criticizes the stance of the Coptic Church with a mixture of theological and political language and argument. Since Lama’i is not a member of the Coptic Orthodox Church, he has more space in which to discuss this issue. He writes that the Church does not have capacity to impose punishment on those who do not follow its teachings or to refuse to implement court rulings because the Bible teaches Christians to submit to the state authorities. Similarly, but more indirectly perhaps because she belongs to the Coptic Orthodox Church, Claire Naseef appeals to the Pope in his capacity ‘as beloved Pope and head of the Church’, to solve the divorce dilemma. She explains criticism of the Church and the Pope as the reaction of worldly people resisting Church teachings and goes on to discuss the meaning of adultery in the Bible (Naseef, 18 March 2008). These articles begin to illustrate the tendency to combine religious argument with the promotion of political ideology. In doing this the writer is speaking to a Coptic Church leadership that is at once spiritual and political and a community that often combines this dual character. Speaking to this dual character is apparently necessary for authenticity and legitimacy since even those calling for a separation between religion and the state fall back on references to faith in making their arguments. Yet using this intertwined discourse also legitimizes and naturalizes the mixing of religion and politics and the authority of the Church to act as a political spokesman (Bayoumi, 30 March 2010). The deployment of Christian texts to support political aims is a shift identified by Sedra (2009: 1058) who points to the polemics Shenouda promoted after he was appointed Bishop of Education in 1962 and continued after his appointment as the Patriarch in 1971. Shenouda was clearly an advocate of expanding Church activity and authority into political spheres. Sedra asserts that ‘The polemics that Bishop Shenouda constructed and delivered each Friday in the Cathedral’ had an impact on the way Copts were to utilize Biblical texts in daily life. He goes on to compare this with Starret’s (1998) findings on the way Muslims employ Qur’anic passages to support political aims. This, together with the articles described here, suggests that the merging of political terminology and references to religious teachings, traditions and texts in media discourse by and about Copts is one of the characteristics that can be identified in the dominating Coptic media discourses. As such, debates concerning Coptic identities tend to ‘centre on contested frontiers and boundaries between religion and non-religion’

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(Beckford, 2003: 198). One of the main consequences of this characteristic is the difficulty in challenging and negotiating social or political issues within the Coptic community. Dissent and resistance movements tend to use a discourse of religion to defend or justify themselves in an attempt to gain some legitimacy or at least avoid outright rejection. Expanding the boundaries of discourses beyond this can delegitimize the argument or leave it open to accusations of inauthenticity and even blasphemy. This difficulty was not so evident in the past. Before the 1950s, the press was often regarded as the voice of the Coptic elite and the vehicle for involvement in communal affairs, often taking a position that attacked the Church and supported Church reform, for example over the election of the next Pope in 1944 (Carter 1986: 35). In contrast to Allam al-Mashaheer and al-Katiba al-Tibia, Watani is available outside the sphere of the Church and has some measure of independence. The editor, Yusef Sidhom, describes Watani as a national paper without affiliation.1 However, he admits that the main site of distribution is the Church and its readership is almost exclusively Coptic. He estimates that at least 90 per cent of the readership is Coptic. Consequently, Watani must also retain the approval of the Church leadership for its legitimacy and authenticity with its readership in order to remain viable. This necessity was illustrated in the dispute between Watani and the Church leadership in 2006. This incident sent a clear message to Watani. As with al-Katiba al Tibia and Allam al-Mashaheer, some content may deviate from the official public Church discourse, for example on the extent of discrimination against Copts. However, all Coptic newspapers should endeavour to remain in line with the position of the Church on issues that might challenge the authority of the Church within the Coptic community or its role as spokesman at the national level. This is why the Church mobilized so strongly against the publication of Max Michel’s interview in Watani. This indicates that Coptic print media is beholden to Church leadership to varying degrees. If direct approval is not essential, direct opposition to the Church is unacceptable since the Church can influence the readership of a Coptic publication against buying it. As the examination of the Internet shows, the Coptic community largely acts in solidarity with the Church in Coptic media spaces, especially when the community is threatened by a perceived attack on its values and norms. This strengthens the Church’s ability to maintain its strong presence in the Coptic Internet spaces and to influence sales of Coptic publications by mobilizing belonging, solidarity and defence of the Coptic faith and community. Perhaps for these reasons, Watani made little mention of the divorce/ remarriage debate during the period of this case study in late 2007 to early 2008. In an article which appeared on 9 March 2008 on the front page (Salama, 9 March 2008), the language used did not criticize the state but it did attempt to clarify the Church’s position on the matter. According to this article, the Church is not obliged to implement a decision that violates the

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Bible because the Bible is the Church’s constitution. The Qur’an is also quoted to support the opinion of the Church that Christians should be judged by what their religion teaches. The article shifted responsibility for the solution to the state and this position is followed up in the editorial. The editor emphasizes that the Church is not above the law but, since it is a religious authority for Christians, it has to implement Christian teachings in matters of personal status. The responsibility for solving this issue is placed upon the Minister for Justice for failing to enact a unified nonMuslim Personal Status Law. Therefore the current problems are presented as the inevitable result of a government that keeps matters concerning Christians or Copts on hold. This takes the issue out of a framework of theological debate or criticism of the Church. The strategies and reactions illustrated above indicate that the Church views discourses that contradict or attempt to negotiate the dominant Church discourse as a challenge to its authority and legitimacy. While there are some channels that appear to offer alternative discourses, they can only achieve a small degree of flexibility in their narratives within limits guarded by the Church. If they go beyond this, attempts are quickly made to reassert the dominant discourse, often by framing the discourses of resistance as threatening or unnatural. This small degree of flexibility can be explained as an attempt to expand the legitimacy of the Church by pointing to the existence of the freedom of expression and dissent. Where the right to dissent is not provided by the government, this becomes the basis for the critique of government legitimacy (Butler, 2009). While the Church leadership must assert its authority and authenticity, it also needs the consent of the community to act as the guardian of Copticness. As both Gramsci and Weber suggest, a leadership achieves authority through dual action that can be summarized as force and consent (cf. Berlinerblau, 2001: 338–39). To do this, the Church must ensure that it constructs itself as the author and definer of authentic Copticness and that challenges to this exclusive function are undermined as unauthentic by the majority of the community itself. Thus, in the Coptic case, it seems that the right to dissent is limited, not only by the Church but also by large segments of the Coptic community themselves who, like many minority groups, view the dominant discourse as protective (cf. Bauman, 2002) and challenges to it as representing an existential threat.

Strategies for presenting and undermining resistance discourses The Church has less control over individuals who move outside the Church media space. This happens mainly through the vehicle of the national press. Those who publish in the independent newspapers are aware that there is some measure of exploitation exercised in giving them this platform; controversy and Coptic affairs sell newspapers. However, many feel they have no other real alternative platform.2 This book has repeatedly shown that dissent within the Coptic community and between the Church and the state

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is not uncommon, despite the Church seeming to dominate the media space. However, these discourses are usually alternative or demotic discourses rather than direct counter-discourses. Butler (2009) suggests that withdrawing consent from a given authority can lead to an inquiry into that authority’s legitimacy but this does not appear to have happened in the case of the Coptic Church, at least to any fundamental degree. What strategies are used to perform discursive action that falls outside the Churchdominated discourse, who performs them and how the Church has reacted are the key questions. The preceding discussion has begun to reveal several strategies and several groups which will now be explored in more detail. The first strategy is to frame resisting discourse as criticism of procedures or of the lack of separation of Church and state where possible but not directly as criticism of the Pope. While their vision for the place of the Church is at odds with the Church’s view, the resistance discourses seen in the period up until 2010 were not generally concerned with challenging the Church’s spiritual leadership or criticizing the Pope personally. Comments reacting to articles posted on forums and websites attested to the loyalty and attachment that Copts have for the Church and for Pope Shenouda. This illustrates the change in power relations between the Pope and the lay Coptic leadership under Shenouda because in the 1920s it was not unusual to see direct criticism of the Pope (then Yuannis) in the Coptic press (Carter, 1986: 31). In the period of stability and status quo under the Shenouda–Mubarak regime, at least until it began to unravel in late 2010, loyalty to the Church, and therefore to the state, was normalized as part of the definition of Coptic belonging. Nevertheless, resistance discourses can be located, even during this period. Perhaps the main resistance discourse employed was that of the separation of Church and state, often linking the discussion to universal civil rights. This discourse criticized the role of the Church in political activities and social life. The Coptic writers in Roz al-Yusef are perhaps the most visible among the Coptic activists who challenge the Church and call for the Pope to step back from his role as political actor and limit his activism to the Church sphere. However, the resisting voices are not a unified bloc. The Secular (sometimes referred to as Reformist) Front had acted as an umbrella for individuals speaking out against the Church’s role from any perspective. Belonging to the Front gave some sense of security to those risking their place as part of the Church by publically challenging Church discourse. However, the uniting factor of resisting the political role of the Church was unable to conquer the diversity of positions of the individuals involved. In early 2008, a number of prominent figures decided to leave the Front. These included journalists Kamal Ghobrial and Hany Labib, and a prominent lawyer, Nabil Monir. A section of the youth membership led by Minas Monir also left the movement around the same time. The main reason was that the Front’s originally secular ethos had been lost as a result of its

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tranformation into an ecclesiastical reformation movement.3 This split illustrated the heterogeneity of the objectives of those involved in challenging and negotiating ‘Coptic community’ and particularly the relationship with and between Church and state. Nevertheless, whether the resistance discourses come from a bloc or individuals, the dispute between the Church leadership and these challengers is visible in the press. As well as generally being careful not to criticize the Pope directly, those resisting the Church’s political aspirations often emphasize their loyalty to the Church. They are attempting to separate faith from political narratives but, by and large, are failing to do so. In her discussion of dissent and critique, Butler cites the example of Socrates, who questioned the legitimacy of the law that sentenced him to death but not the authority of the court that applied this law and for this reason he did not try to escape because, ‘he belongs to the state, and his very being, the very possibility of his interlocution, depends upon that state’ (2009: 792). This is the balance that many of those resisting some aspect of the Church discourses are applying and it reinforces the idea that, as Copts, belonging to the Coptic Church is foundational. Regardless of the stance of the dissenting writer, the Church and those who speak on behalf of the Church leadership, respond to these resisting discourses from the perspective of belonging to the Coptic Church, which is equated with belonging to the Coptic community and sometimes even belonging to Egypt (particularly in the case of the diaspora). In this way, those who challenge the Church discourse are portrayed as betrayers of the Coptic community, its identity and values (al-Masry al-Youm, 3 November 2007). This is usually achieved by placing them outside the Coptic faith. This is not difficult in the case of Max Michel or commentators from outside the Coptic Church, whether they are Muslims or Christians from denominations other than Coptic Orthodox. However, it is more difficult to counter those who remain within the Coptic faith because they belong to the group and challenge the doxa from within (cf. Berlinerblau, 2001: 351). Dina al-Khawaga argues that the Coptic elite has become broader and more diverse throughout the first decade of the twenty-first century.4 However, since the Church has increasingly become the key provider of social services and prestige as well as an essential space for Coptic cultural production, it is largely only the well-connected, or those in the diaspora, who can realistically afford the risk of publically resisting Church policies. This is because the Church and Copts often react very strongly to undermine any strategy that seeks to reduce the Church’s political role because it is viewed as a means of protecting Copts. In some cases the implicit meaning of the language used to counter the resisting discourses seems to be ‘takfir’ (designating someone an apostate), a practice normally associated with extremist Islamist groups, such as Takfir wa al-Hijra. A recent study of Coptic Christology points out Pope Shenouda’s use of Islamic terminology to criticize those holding different interpretations of Christian doctrines

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(Davis, 2008). Davis found that Shenouda had accused Matta el-Meskin (an Egyptian monk) of al-Shirk bi-llah (the act of associating something with God) during their long-running theological dispute. The accusation of alShirk bi-llah is usually employed by Islamic writers with reference to critiquing the Christian Trinitarian doctrine. Therefore, for Eastern Christians such terminology clearly has a powerful resonance and ability to undermine (Davis, 2008: 277–78). As a result, it is not uncommon for the secular Coptic journalists to use the press to defend themselves and to underline their commitment to their faith, despite their differences with certain members or policies of the Church leadership. Secular Copts Kamal Zakher and Gamal Asa’ad have both published articles specifically to defend themselves against doubts expressed by Anba Beshoy regarding their commitment to the Coptic Church (Asa’ad, 12 March 2008; Gad, 11 March 2008). Zakher published a further article in defence of accusations that he is ‘sullying the Church’, in which he talked about his upbringing in the Church. Throughout the article he quotes Bible verses and underlines his belonging to and affection for his church and his faith, using deixis. Deixis is one of the major elements studied in discourse analysis (Van Dijk, 1998: 216) and observations of Coptic media reveal that possessive pronouns are highly visible in describing the relationship between the Church and Copts. For example, it is very common for references to the Church to be framed as ‘my Church’ and ‘our Church’ (al-Fares, 30 March 2008; Zakher, 28 March 2008). This is even more noticeable in articles by Copts in which they take a position divergent from that of the Church. This language establishes relationships that require responsibility, solidarity and accountability. The use of language to indicate possession and the normality of this way of describing the Coptic community underlines the sense of mutual belonging and ownership, which entails duty and mutual responsibility. In this way religious narratives form an essential ingredient of the media discourses, even for Copts who are ostensibly promoting a secular agenda. Zakher’s response to accusations that he is harming the Church by promoting secularism and reforms within the Church establishment is not to defend his ideas or his right to freedom of expression, but it is to reinforce his belonging to the Church and to underline his ‘religious credentials’. Likewise, in the first statement made by the Secular Copts Front (of which Kamal Zakher is the spokesman) in 2006, they refer to themselves as ‘sons of the Church’, still part of the Coptic family, and reiterate that their movement is not separate to the Church but part of it and stems from concern for the welfare of the ‘mother church’. The statement itself was addressed directly to Pope Shenouda. Since the leadership and the collective consciousness of the Coptic community is at once political, social and religious, Coptic discourses are intertwined so even secular Copts cannot operate outside the framework of discourses of religion if they want to avoid red lines and achieve authenticity within the community. It is likely that this

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pressure to defend religious credentials made it difficult for the Secular Front to remain a purely secular political group. The inability to focus on Coptic civil rights, separate from the Coptic religious set-up, has hindered the development and progress of the Front and created the divisions within it. It has also hindered the ‘innovation of deliberation’ that Kulynych (1997: 336) sees as a critical outcome of performative resistance and thus undermined the attempts of secularists to challenge authority structures. As well as undermining discourses resisting the Church’s dominant discourse through the press, the Church does occasionally take the radical step of completely removing someone from the community through excommunication. Exercising authority over the labelling of who or what is heretic and orthodox is perhaps the most obvious mechanism, since the Coptic Orthodox Church is uniquely able to decide what is ‘orthodoxly Coptic’ and must reinforce its capacity as the ultimate authority in this regard (Berlinerblau, 2001: 336). This monopoly on knowledge of what is orthodox for Copts and what is not, affords the Church leadership considerable authority and power, based on Foucault’s connection between knowledge and power (Beckford, 2003: 184). Perhaps the most prominent modern example of the Coptic Church’s use of heresy is the case of Dr George Bebawi. Bebawi is an internationally renowned theologian who also acted as an advisor on Church affairs to Sadat before it became normal to have a direct relationship between Pope and President, as was the case with Shenouda and Mubarak. In the latter capacity Bebawi acted as interlocutor between Sadat and Pope Shenouda and the main figure in contact with the international media on behalf of Egyptian Christians. Bebawi was publically against Pope Shenouda’s intervention in political issues, particularly after the Camp David agreement. After Sadat ordered Pope Shenouda into exile, Bebawi, during an interview with the BBC, objected to Shenouda’s political leadership and criticized the Church’s interference. Shenouda removed Bebawi from his post as the Dean of the Coptic Theological Seminary and forbade him from speaking in any Coptic Church, including in the UK, where Bebawi had held various academic posts.5 This de facto excommunication was not made official until 2006 after an article written by Bebawi and another English theologian named Robert Shaw questioning some of Pope Shenouda’s theological stances, was published in Roz al-Yusef. Although the article was published without naming the author, Bebawi was quickly condemned and excommunicated. This indicates that, although political criticism is addressed and undermined, doctrinal criticism is the major red line. If the Church does not have absolute authority over doctrinal issues then it loses authority in all areas. One of the reasons given on Bebawi’s excommunication certificate was that he had joined the Anglican Church, in other words had forsaken and betrayed the Coptic faith. Bebawi’s case was even equated with undermining the unity, and therefore the security, of a social group. A number of articles published by the Coptic clergy in the wake of the incident claimed that Bebawi

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supported Israel and Zionism. They referred frequently to his mother, who was a Jewess (Mouro, 5 March 2007). This implicitly constructs him as an enemy of both the nation and the faith. Another reason cited in the excommunication certificate was that Bebawi believed in ‘doctrines that not only harm the Coptic Church but also Egypt and the Egyptian people’.6 In article 3 of the statement, the Holy Synod refers to Pope Shenouda as the protector of Orthodox faith in the modern age, and one of the greatest symbols of the Church and the nation, both inside and outside Egypt. These two reasons emphasize the role of the Church as protector; not only of religious heritage but also of the peace and safety of the Copts within Egyptian society. So, Bebawi was not merely teaching different doctrines that potentially threatened the Coptic faith and Copts, but he became enemy of the nation by publicly criticizing Pope Shenouda through the press, thus moving beyond the limits deemed acceptable by the normalized dominant discourse. Simmel (1997) argues that the persecution of dissenters stems from the instinct to preserve social unity and ensure the reproduction of social life. He observes that this instinct is particularly observable in matters of religious deviance. To counter this threat to solidarity and collective identity, those who challenge the discourse of Coptic community as managed by the Church, must be placed outside the community. In this way they can be labelled as illegitimate and inauthentic and unrepresentative of the majority. This process can actually strengthen unity around the dominant discourse and thus the leadership of the Church. Similarly, Nasr attributes the insular nature of Shia communities and the authority of Shia clerics to their status as an often persecuted minority in Islam (Nasr, 2006: 69). Under threat, a community looks to defend its identity and in the case of Copts this often seems to be embodied in the Church and its clergy.

Discourses of resistance online The Internet has also become a vehicle for dissent and the promotion of the discourses of resistance tied to contestations concerning diverse notions of secularism and the role and procedures of the Church. Those using the press to promote this strategy have clearly faced many obstacles and this can be compared with the function of the Internet in offering a platform for different strategies of resistance. Despite claims for the potential of the Internet to encourage more egalitarian forms of interaction (Meyrowitz,1985: 64), the Church has been able to reproduce its privileged position in cyberspace. A significant proportion of Coptic online spaces are managed by the Church, with many of the popular Coptic Internet sites relying on ties with the Church through content, language, symbolism and even direct moderation for their legitimacy. It is often the link to the Coptic Church that defines these spaces as Coptic. As with the press, individuals who want to discuss issues beyond those normalized by this space must move outside, either

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through individual blogging or through use of some of the diaspora-based websites. There are a small number of Coptic bloggers. The best-known blog is Hala al-Masry’s ‘Copts Without Borders’. It is notable that the divorce/ remarriage debate and the question of whether the Church was obliged to implement the court decision was not a prominent subject on al-Masry’s blog, despite the fact that she is a lawyer by profession. On 18 March 2008, she reluctantly commented on the issue, explaining that she didn’t want to comment out of respect for the courts and the judges and also because personal status law is one of the key areas of tensions within the Egyptian Christian community. She reiterated that it is her policy to stay entirely silent on Church matters and she does not therefore comment directly on the Church position vis-à-vis the court ruling. She prefers instead to suggest that introducing the idea of civil marriage into Egypt may be one solution. Nevertheless, she feels it necessary to orient herself by stating that she is not a follower of Max Michel and that she herself is married according to the Catholic rite in order to forestall any criticism or accusations against her. In addition to blogging, social networking media, such as Facebook, have given individual Internet users a platform for self-expression that is not under the auspices of a community authority or moderator. Yet even on Facebook, where Coptic groups still tend to construct themselves around a Church, clerical figure or saint, there is space for resistance. Such groups are a minority but they represent the expression of a demotic discourse. The group Coptic Freethinkers recognizes that they may be considered heretics for their resistance to following the Church line in social and political issues but they state they are ‘still Coptic’ nevertheless. In my own participantobservation in debates on Facebook I have come across a number of situations in which an aspect of the Coptic Church or a statement or action of one of the clergy is questioned, usually using humour and often as status updates or comments on an individual’s profile. In one such debate in June 2010, a status update quoting an extract from the Coptic vespers service on one girl’s profile elicited 189 comments from her Facebook friends debating Church doctrine and Pope Shenouda’s statements. The owner of the profile did not comment except to state her surprise at the strong reactions and the comments were largely divided between those questioning some of Pope Shenouda’s teachings and those who denied the right to discuss his teachings at all. While the Internet has the potential to offer a freer platform to a greater number of individuals, self-censorship and adherence to group norms clearly impact on its usage. I have come across several Copts who claim that their Facebook profiles have been closed down shortly after criticizing Shenouda on threads in Coptic Facebook groups because of large numbers of complaints received by Egypt’s local Facebook administration staff. Prior to being closed down they complained that their comments in the discussions had attracted flaming behaviour from other users. Flaming is a term used to

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describe an insulting interaction between online users, which can be purposely used by members of electronic groups to protect their group and the consensus of its norms and values. Phillips (1996) found that members responded to a perceived threat to the identity of the group by strengthening their attachment to the group further. This is crucial for electronic groups because they are not set in a physical location so the boundaries are reinforced through interaction and performance of these norms. The discourse of the group forms the boundary and protects its norms and interests by establishing inclusion and exclusion and flaming those who step beyond these boundaries. This explains why some Copts react strongly to what they see as negative portrayals of their community in the media or attacks on their values, and why criticism of the Church or its leadership via Coptic electronic groups and sites is not generally acceptable to a large proportion of Copts. William Hanna of the American Coptic Union wrote on the blog Copts4freedom that he had received threatening emails from members of the Church because of his comments online regarding the Pope.7 Group members are often as aggressive in defending group norms as the group leadership because it is in the interest of the group and its members to defend solidarity. This is particularly the case with the Copts who often feel pressured to conform to particular discourses in order to protect their group. This pressure comes from various sources, including the state, Islamist groups and the Church itself. Coptic activists find themselves in a dilemma; for example, criticism of the Church, or even the state, was frowned upon because it is represented as giving a stronger position to Islamist groups in Egyptian politics. Through observing the comments placed on websites and forums responding to articles on the issue of the Church refusal to implement the court ruling on second marriages, the observation that among a significant section of the Coptic community criticizing the Church and its teachings is a line that should not be crossed is reinforced. Even those critical of the Church online and in the press, do not as a rule question the religious authority of the Church, only its social or political leadership. They tend to use religious language and theology to argue this point and the Copts who comment likewise respond with religious language to defend the Church and its leadership. However there is noticeably more willingness to discuss positions other than the official Church one in matters of persecution. It has been noted that a significant number of the respondents to the Coptic online survey who are resident in Egypt cited diaspora-based websites as their preferred source of information about Coptic issues. These sites use the language of human rights and democracy to discuss social and political issues, which seem to offer the flexibility for the expression of demotic discourses. The views expressed on these sites, by both the producers of the sites and the users that comment on the content, often run seemingly contrary to the Church’s expressed stance on religious discrimination.

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The Church does not openly address issues of persecution and, although some hint of dissatisfaction at the Church’s silence can be detected at times, criticism and blame are largely directed at the Egyptian state and/or Islamists. Employing a human rights and democracy narrative is one strategy that provides space for indirectly resisting this position. These dynamics are further illustrated by the discussions engendered by the issue of divorce/remarriage in 2007/08 on these online forums. Articles from the Egyptian press were published on Coptic websites and forums as well as articles written by Coptic thinkers specifically for the Internet. In some cases these elicited a large number of comments. Where the article was perceived to be critical of the Church and its stance on the issue, individual Copts responded to defend both their faith and the Church. On the Freecopts forum an article taken from al-Araby newspaper was published that gives opinions for and against Pope Shenouda’s stance on the divorce and remarriage question. All the comments on this article expressed support for the teachings being upheld by the Church because they are God’s teaching and no one, whether Muslim or Christian, can change them. The comments also expressed the belief that the Church is not a state or administrative institution, nor is the Pope a civil servant and therefore the Church should not be obliged to implement the court order.8 They praised and supported Pope Shenouda as the definer and defender of Copticness and, by extension, Copts. A second debate on the same forum revealed similar views. All comments supported the Church and expressed pride in its teachings and in its stance in defending the teachings against the court order. This response from the Coptic community itself is perhaps to be expected because it is often the norms surrounding family and personal status that are most aggressively defended. It is upon these norms that the social structures of a community are based. This is particularly the case in this context in which personal status law is applied according to religious affiliation for both Muslims and Christians. Although civil law forms the basis of the majority of Egyptian legislation, matters relating to the family are governed by Islamic law for Muslims, with a separate Canon being applicable to non-Muslims. Teachings on the family are central to Coptic social life and those who commented here viewed them as something of permanence that defines Coptic life and protects it from fragmentation and from outside threats.9 The sensitivity of this topic and the central place it has in Coptic life and faith explains why the Church, which normally follows a policy of silence and solidarity with the state, did not stay silent on this issue. On the website for the US Copts organization a discussion evolved around the appearance of a female Coptic MP, Georgette Qellini, on the popular Egyptian talk show al-Bayt Baytak, which often features discussions on sensitive issues. The majority of those taking part in the debate expressed their pride in Qellini for defending the Christian teachings on divorce during her appearance on the programme and how, in the opinion

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of the participants, she overcame the arguments of the presenter in her explanation of difference in the Christian philosophy of marriage and divorce from the Islamic one. There was also a sense expressed in the comments of frustration at the continued coverage of this issue on Egyptian media, as one person wrote, ‘Why are the Muslims still going on about this, we don’t want to be like them’.10 Such comments reveal that doctrinal teachings are defended as a source of differentiation defining Copts vis-à-vis Muslims, forming a boundary. The Church’s interpretation and implementation of its policy on divorce and remarriage are pointed to by some as causing problems for Copts; however, adherence to them is vital for the Coptic community in terms of protecting its social and religious structures and also distinguishing itself. The only comment directly criticizing the stance of the Coptic Church on this issue was posted in response to an article posted in the Copts United website, one of the biggest Coptic diaspora organizations. The article reports on the convening of a conference for the discussion of a united evangelical position on divorce and remarriage (Khalil, 27 March 2009). The one critical comment, the only one written in English, condemns the clergy of the Coptic Church for their lack of knowledge of the Bible. The author does not criticize Pope Shenouda directly, however. Although other comments take a more moderate stance in line with protestant priest Ikram Lama’i’s interpretation, they also refrain from critiquing the Coptic Church position. The lack of any criticism of the Pope and only mild criticism of the Church from the Coptic community itself indicated again the powerful symbol that Pope Shenouda had become as their voice and guardian and also that electronic media did not lead to radically different content to that seen in the press. Indeed, when articles were posted on the diaspora websites criticizing the Church over the divorce/remarriage issue of 2007/8, they elicited comments that by and large defended the Church. This underlines that fact that the Church, the Pope and their political role and discourse of Coptic community are representative of, and accepted by, many Copts. It is not only online that Copts defend Pope Shenouda. In an article in al-Dostour, Nagy William who is described as belonging to the ‘educated Copts’ and who is also editor of Allam al-Mashaheer, said that the secularists are ignorant of the feelings of the Copts who love the Pope (Waheeb, 13 November 2007). In the same article, an anonymous person was quoted as saying that, ‘neither the secularists nor any others have the right to talk about such issues [the procedures for electing a new Pope] because the Church is orthodox not secular and is unchanging’. For many, Pope Shenouda, as head of the Coptic Church, was a symbol of unity and continuity for the Copts whether inside or outside Egypt. Criticism of the Pope was a red line that could lead to division and fragmentation among Copts and thus further weaken the Copts as a community who are a numerical minority both in Egypt and in the diaspora. This is acknowledged by forum moderators of diaspora forums such as Copts United.11

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These examples suggest that the vast majority of comments made online during this period supported the Church against articles written by Copts from the secular stream or in the diaspora when they questioned the Church’s conduct on this issue. From the preceding discussion, it can be seen that religion is also a pivotal area of resistance, both within the Coptic community and between the Coptic community and the state. Two main reasons for this are, first, that the leadership of the Coptic community is to be found largely in the Church authorities. The second reason is that, although some Copts and some Muslims would argue that all Egyptians are Copts, thus rejecting the use of this term as a marker of religion and emphasizing the ethnic origins of the term, the main boundary of difference between Coptic and non-Coptic Egyptians, whether Muslim or Christians from other denominations, remains religious difference. Coptic collective consciousness, from which Coptic discourses emerge, is consequently embedded partly in religious heritage. Therefore the community often experienced outside threats in terms of religious persecution, whether the source and/or manifestation of those threats are expressed in religious terms or not. For these reasons there is a merging of religious and socio-political narrative that is used by many of the actors in Coptic media and there are difficulties in separating criticism of Church political policies from religious identity. While members of the Coptic community may regret the social problems caused by the Church’s strict implementation of teachings on divorce, criticizing the Church publicly through the media was not generally acceptable, because this injures the community and rejects the solidarity which protects the character of Coptic life and faith from assimilation into both the wider Christian world and Egyptian national identity, which emphasizes Arab ethnicity and the Islamic religion. This is a perceived threat that the Coptic Church leadership have resisted since the fourth century. It would seem then that the Internet had been unable to significantly challenge the hierarchies that exist offline within the Coptic community by 2010. However, it is conceivable that the opening up of the press and electronic media is gradually removing the ability of the state and the Church to control media discourses to some extent. During an interview conducted at an Egyptian NGO, the Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights, one of the NGO’s projects which analysed Coptic blogs was discussed. According to the project manager, one of the chief and unexpected findings was the sheer diversity of opinions expressed through these blogs.12 The interviewee explained that previously only the official view of the Church had been visible and observing Coptic blogs had revealed that there are more diverse views on state policy and the reality of discrimination against Copts than the reconciliatory reactions often expressed by the Church with regard to claims of persecution.13 The Internet also gives individuals who are not journalists or prominent thinkers the opportunity to respond to articles in the press. When an article was published in al-Masry al-Youm claiming that

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a convert to Christianity, Mohamed Hegazy, was coerced into leaving Islam (Bayoumi, 7 August 2007), he was only able to respond to this online via the platform of a Coptic diaspora website. This gives an indication that, as the Internet becomes more accessible, this could encourage heterogeneity of voices heard in the public sphere. It should be noted that the response was on a site based in the diaspora. These sites represent spaces outside Egypt and often outside the sphere of the Coptic Church. This has advantages in not being subject to official discourses but may also have disadvantages in terms of authenticity, belonging, and therefore impact. Thus the next media space to be analysed for its ability to present resistance is the Coptic diaspora.

The diaspora: space for resistance? In the nineteenth century, newspapers published in Paris and London and smuggled back to Egypt enabled writers to more freely oppose the government in Cairo (Ayalon, 1995: 47–48). Today, given the access to technology, freedom of speech and being physically further from the centralized Church leadership and political regime in Egypt where the mechanisms of control and marginalization are strongest, it is perhaps inevitable that the diaspora Copts are more likely to produce discourses of belonging and of Coptic identity that counter those produced by the Church in Egypt. Through technology, the diaspora have access to Egypt to influence domestic politics and, in return, Copts in Egypt have an alternative source of information outside the Church and national spaces. Yet the diaspora is not necessarily viewed as a positive actor. According to my surveys, 26.4 per cent felt that the diaspora Copts have a positive impact on Egypt, 2.2 per cent believed the impact is negative and 28.2 per cent that the impact of the diaspora is both positive and negative. Only 6 per cent felt that they have no effect at all. Furthermore, the findings of this research show that the differences between Coptic Church and diaspora discourse are not necessarily as great as might be assumed. Although removed from Egypt, the Coptic diaspora is still constructed around an idea of Coptic community and has perhaps just as strong an emphasis on belonging as a Copt, albeit defined against a different out-group. In explaining difference to the host society, the Copts use their religious and national heritage (Botros, 2006). The Coptic Pope, as the symbolic head of orthodox Copts in the diaspora, and Egypt, as the homeland, are central connections around which discourses flow and belonging is structured as part of a community’s strategy in identifying itself in the host society and society of origin. For McCallum, the person of Pope Shenouda was the personification of both the Coptic Church and community (2010: 41). As with many diaspora communities, particularly ethno-religious diasporas such as the Copts, religion is an identity marker of the community (Sheffer, 2003: 66) and the mother Church, under whose jurisdiction the

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diasporic Coptic churches remain, is a major site of religious cultural production (Botros, 2006: 181–82). In addition, waves of emigration often renew a sense of heritage in a diaspora. For example, Abu Laban (1980: 137, 143) found that after surges in immigration of Copts to Canada, Churches that had adopted English as their language of worship, returned to using Arabic for at least part of their services. Such flows inevitably have an impact on the diaspora community. Diaspora communities often play a prominent role in the political life of both the host country and the home country (Sheffer, 2003: 173). The Coptic diaspora is an example of the ability of diasporas to act as transnational actors at multiple levels. The Coptic diaspora is active within the local diaspora communities, among the diaspora communities (mainly America, Canada, Australia and Europe), in the national politics of the host country and in the national politics of Egypt. For example, Michael Mounier, the head of US Copts, has lobbied the American government calling for Coptic rights and established a Coptic parliament in an attempt to unite the different Coptic diaspora organizations. Kamil Halim, another activist and head of the American Coptic Assembly, argues that the Coptic diaspora should use the media and their position in the West to inform the world about discrimination against Copts (al-Dawakhly, 21 October 2007). Developments in media technology enable diaspora communities to connect with the country of origin to a greater extent than ever before and also enable those in the country of origin to reach out to the diaspora. Therefore, the connection of being a Copt, or any other identity, expands beyond national borders and is a reality for Copts in the diaspora as well as those in Egypt. Whether this in fact increases unity among a group of people around a connection or whether it uncovers fragmentation is moot. Related to this is the question of whether increased connections and access via media encourages diversity or the spreading of a dominant interpretation of community identity. Media offers access and increased connections to a broader section of the community, but there is still hierarchy in this as well as the question of authority and authenticity. This ensures that there is no direct correlation between increased media access and plurality. The playing field may become broader but not necessarily more even. The Church not only has visibility but also the infrastructure and the resources and access to make best use of advanced communications technology, with three affiliated satellite television channels – Aghapy, CTV and St Mark – and numerous websites. Nevertheless, despite the diaspora Coptic media spaces containing significant content that is in line with Church discourse, the position of the diaspora has the potential to enable counter-discourses to be expressed. The main stream of counter-discourses comes from the political activists who campaign for human rights and particularly the rights of Copts inside Egypt. As Botros (2006, 190–92) observed, there are two main voices in the Coptic community in America. The first is that of the Church, clergy and

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laity involved in Church life. The second is ‘some migrant Copts, mainly from the laity, who diverge from the pacifist discourse of the Church’ (ibid.: 190). Whereas the first voice promotes a discourse that celebrates the Church and refuses to publically acknowledge any difficulties, the second is very vocal about issues of discrimination and is not supported by the Church. There is often hostility between the two positions but, while these diaspora activists may consist of a small proportion of the Coptic community, their reach can be broad. During Sadat’s visits to America he was met by coordinated campaigns to highlight the grievances of the Coptic diaspora against the Egyptian government. The campaign included placing full-page adverts in major American newspapers condemning Sadat and criticizing his treatment of Copts in Egypt (McCallum, 2008: 70). This incident convinced Sadat that Pope Shenouda had political ambitions inside Egypt. In a speech after his return, Sadat claimed that Copts are planning to establish a Coptic state within the state. This illustrates how activism in the diaspora is shaped by the political context in the homeland (Karim, 2003: 79), as well as how this activism impacts on this context. Through the Internet, the diaspora is continually connected to the Coptic community inside Egypt so that grievances can be expressed at any time. The Coptic diaspora has a significant impact on Egypt through Coptic diaspora activism. This activism was not created by electronic media but media developments have enabled activists to become more visible and to have a more obvious impact. The grievances expressed today by diaspora activists via the Internet are broadly the same as those highlighted during the SadatShenouda era (Salah, 22 October 2007). They also mirror those regularly expressed through the press by Coptic elite activists inside Egypt prior to the 1950s, when the elite was stronger in terms of leadership within the Coptic community and the Church weaker. New media technology has clearly linked the diaspora into the Egyptian public sphere more closely than was previously possible. Technology and physical displacement outside the national space have allowed the diaspora the freedom to take the place, to certain extent, of the Egypt-based Coptic elite, who before 1952 openly challenged the Church leadership. However, this displacement also works against the diaspora. To have an impact on the Coptic community and its discourses and to enable the diversity of voices to be heard, the diaspora needs to produce authentic discourses that are relevant and legitimate to Copts inside Egypt. Its ability and legitimacy to provide this is a significant concern for the Diaspora activists who seek to highlight their ideas. In order to examine the contribution of diaspora media to challenging Coptic media discourses inside Egypt, I observed the role of the diaspora during the swine flu crisis in early 2009. Despite the clear position taken by the Church in the Egyptian press, it was clear from comments posted on Coptic diaspora websites that many Christians felt that they were being unfairly targeted because Egypt is the only country to have ordered a complete cull of its pigs. They describe it as

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a knee-jerk reaction taken to appease the sensibilities of the Muslim majority without regard to the consequences for the Zabaleen. This incident was particularly seized upon in the diaspora because it enabled the universalizing human rights discourse to obtain visibility and space beyond Coptic particularistic media. The swine flu incident was a global one, offering the opportunity to globalize the issue of Coptic rights as human rights and Coptic activists appeared in Western and pan-Arab media. This reinforced the strategy of providing alternative narratives that do not directly challenge the Church authority and dominant discourse but provide a platform and a proxy for indirect criticism. The diaspora activists have been more successful than the secularists inside Egypt in providing this alternative because they are outside Egypt and because Copts from inside Egypt can be quietly involved in this demotic discourse through the Internet without contradicting or publically opposing the dominant Church discourse. This has enabled the dominant and demotic or alternative discourses to coexist to some degree and given Copts access to, and the ability to use, both. This overlapping allows individuals to negotiate individual identity without disturbing overarching ‘official’ identity and this explains the popularity of diaspora activist websites among Copts inside Egypt. These communicative spaces give people the sense of having a voice even if they disagree with their content, and so even passive consumption enables audiences to employ alternative discourses quietly, as needed, without open dissent. Yet there is a lack of visible public support for the diaspora activists and their campaigns within Egypt. In a comment on an article about swine flu, someone with a user name that identified them as Christian criticized the interference of the diaspora Copts writing, ‘have mercy on us diaspora Copts and mind your own business’ (Bayoumi, 3 May 2009). Despite this common attitude, there were many posts on the diaspora websites expressing anger at the Church’s lack of response and appreciative comments concerning the campaigns of the diaspora on the behalf of Copts inside Egypt.14 In response to the posting of a video of Michael Mounier, head of US Copts, comments were posted thanking him for speaking out and redressing the balance in the media. One person commented that they had felt that until now the media was using this issue to denigrate Copts. The author referred to journalists as Wahhabis, that is, radical Muslims.15 This reveals the sensitivities that exist among Copts to issues in the media that touch on religion and once again highlights the perception that Copts are excluded from the media. Diaspora media relied heavily on the evidence of scientific advice and international condemnation of Egypt’s decision to slaughter all swine herds. They presented the decision as either the ignorance of the government or its persecution of Christians, while always emphasizing that protecting the health of all Egyptians is the key goal.16 It is on the diaspora sites rather than in the press that eyewitness accounts are given and photos and video

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footage taken by citizen journalists are posted of these protests and the police response to them. One person, who claims to be an eyewitness, described seeing police burning Bibles and calling Christians cowards and infidels. Clearly there is discontent felt as a result of the issue. One post reads that the Church has sold the Copts and the state has sold all Egyptians to the radical Muslims.17 These observations suggest that, during the swine flu episode, the Internet was able to act as a forum for diversity, fulfilling to some extent the predictions of those scholars who promote the Internet as a equalizing tool. Although, or perhaps because, the diaspora websites acted as a communicative space for alternative viewpoints during the swine flu incident, they were also portrayed as part of the problem (Mohamed, 8 May 2009). They were charged with transforming the incident into a sectarian issue to support their discourse of discrimination against Copts in Egypt. This hints at the influence ascribed to these diaspora activists. Although they are undermined as a marginal group their impact is taken seriously. An illustration of the importance placed on diaspora activities and of the reactions to them, was the media coverage of a ‘Coptic conference’ held in Chicago in October 2007.18 The content and aims of the conference were given significant media attention in Egyptian media and were disseminated via the diaspora activist websites.19 Egyptian newspapers also gave space to interviews with the leaders of the various diaspora organizations, such as US Copts and Copts United. While the Secular Copts are given space in Roz al-Yusef because they meet the paper’s agenda of secularism broadly defined, as a general rule the diaspora Copts are not given such space. This shows that Roz al-Yusef ’s aim is not to carry articles that counter the Church specifically but that counter opposition to the state’s discourse of secular national unity. Therefore, Roz al-Yusef often acts as a vehicle for criticizing diaspora Coptic activism as a contributory factor in tensions between Muslims and Christians as weakening national unity. Al-Ahram tends generally to avoid carrying stories on the speech and actions of Coptic diaspora activists. This follows the paper’s policy of avoiding controversial issues or refusing to give space and therefore visibility to voices that are not in line with state interests. When it is in the interests of state policy, the diaspora are mentioned. For example, when the Egyptian Human Rights Council held its first conference on citizenship, al-Ahram published an article mentioning the participation in the conference of a large number of Coptic dispora organizations. This represents the government as democratic, proactive and inclusive by allowing diaspora Copts to participate (Hegab, 12 February 2008). This can be contrasted with an article published in al-Badeel, in which leading members of two of the largest Coptic diaspora organizations claim they were not allowed to attend this conference (Henein, 25 November 2007). However, in general al-Ahram does not give space to the discourses of the Coptic diaspora. Consequently, the independent papers, particularly

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al-Masry al-Youm and al-Dostour, are the main sites for coverage of diaspora Copts’ activities. As with those who use the press to publish their discourses of resistance, the Church is aware that it cannot prevent these voices from being heard entirely so it must respond by trying to limit their influence through questioning their authenticity. A further strategy employed is based on location, using Egypt as a source of legitimacy. During the coverage of the Chicago conference, the Coptic Orthodox Church criticized the conference heavily (Fouad and Bayoumi, 21 October 2007). Fears were raised that the security of Christians in Egypt would be compromised. Much of the criticism was based on the idea that discussing Egypt’s internal problems outside Egypt is illegitimate. Pope Shenouda timed a visit to Upper Egypt to coincide with the conference (Bayoumi, 22 October 2007; Nour al-Din and Gamal, 21 October 2007), symbolically criticizing a conference held for Copts, outside the Coptic ‘heartland’ of Upper Egypt, where the Coptic Church, represented by the Pope, was physically present. This points to one of the biggest barriers faced by the diaspora and its potential to employ communications technology to redress the balance of power in terms of the production of Coptic discourses, namely, the issue of belonging. Like the few voices within the Egypt-based elite expressing resisting discourses, the diaspora is often the target of criticism (Fouad, 22 October 2007) based on questioning their legitimacy and authenticity as voices for the Copts. The rejection of the legitimacy of the diaspora as a political voice for Copts is based on their distance from Egypt. Since they are displaced outside Egypt, their belonging and relationship to Egypt is easily questioned. The implication is that their views are not valid and their information is incorrect because of their distance from the realities of dayto-day Egyptian life. It is claimed that the result of this is that they increase sectarianism inside Egypt by misrepresenting the truth of the situation on the ground (Bayoumi, 22 October 2007). As a result, many wrote that the issues discussed at the 2007 Chicago conference can only be legitimately debated inside Egypt. The insistence that any Coptic conferences be held in Egypt, is perhaps partly due to the fact that the sphere of influence of both state and Church would be stronger and media coverage more manageable inside Egypt. To counter the problem of authenticity, or as an article in al-Masry al-Youm put it, ‘to clear the air between diaspora Copts and the government’ (Bayoumi, 8 November 2007), a conference was held in Egypt in January 2008 (ibid.). Yet the Cairo conference was not widely attended and the Church, despite having previously called for the discussion of Coptic issues to be held inside Egypt, stated that it was unaware of the conference’s agenda. Significantly, despite the relative success of the diaspora attempts to provide spaces for resisting dominant discourses, for constructing alternative parallel discourses and the potential advantages of the human rights discourse as a universal narrative beyond the authority of the Church, at the

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same time the use of human rights narratives also serves as a further weak point for obtaining authenticity for the diaspora. Since the Coptic diaspora is communicating at several levels – locally, transitionally and globally – it has adopted the universal human rights discourse within which it frames the campaign to improve the circumstances of Copts in Egypt. This enables the diaspora to achieve the goal of raising awareness and indeed they have placed huge emphasis on gaining the support of the state institutions in America (al-Saadani, 17 March 2010). Using the language of human rights makes the Coptic file an international issue, as Kamil Halim, the Chairman of the Coptic Assembly of America, hinted at in a letter to the American Ambassador in Cairo. In an open letter he wrote, ‘The policies of religious intolerance that are supported by the Egyptian government add fuel to the fire of sectarian divisions and violence that exists in the Middle East. These divisions affect American security both domestically and abroad’ (Coptic Assembly, 16 May 2007). While enabling Coptic activists to engage with a Western audience, such language can alienate the Egyptian audience, whether Christian or Muslim. Broadening the issue of Coptic rights ensures that it can be understood globally as part of the wider campaign to promote equal rights for women and religious minorities. So, by universalizing this discourse of resistance the diaspora is able to speak to a broader audience and to appeal to the drive for a culture of equality in Egypt. The advantage of expanding the campaign beyond simply being a Coptic issue is that the diaspora could move the campaign out of the sphere of the Church and provide the possibility for indirect challenges to Church authority and non-confrontational alternatives to the dominant discourse. However, as with the secular Copts, they also become embroiled in the media discourses that combine religion and politics. Trying to promote this non-traditional discourse of human rights leaves it open to being attacked as less authentic and leaves the diaspora vulnerable to accusations of facilitating Western interference in internal Egyptian affairs through the vehicle of protecting minority rights. A demonstration led by Gamal Asa’ad, a Coptic thinker and former MP, outside the Journalists Union in Cairo voiced this concern that the diaspora is promoting an agenda for America rather than for Egypt (Bayoumi, 20 October 2007). In an interview with Kamal Zakher, he described how human rights issues have become politicized since 9/11, putting the Egyptian state, and therefore the Church leadership, on the defensive. It seems that casting doubts on the loyalty and denying the representativeness of the diaspora Copts (Arafa, 21 October 2007), is a mechanism for distancing Copts in Egypt from the discourses of the diaspora that run counter, or even simply parallel, to the official discourse of Muslim–Christian unity promoted by the official organs, including the media, of the Church and the state. Consequently, in the Egyptian media and within the Coptic community, opinion appears to be divided with regard to the role of the diaspora in Egyptian affairs.

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Both state and Church prefer the strategy of muting public discussion of Coptic grievances as a means to prevent inflaming of sectarian tensions, which explains the fearful reaction towards condoning diaspora activism and the dramatic reaction of the Church against their activities in its official media discourse. Whether or not the diaspora has a positive impact through stimulating debate and pushing for change or a negative one by inciting a backlash against Copts in Egypt, it is clear that the diaspora activists did have an impact on Egyptian political life, and particularly Christian–Muslim relations inside Egypt, during this period. Advances in media technology have not created the activism but have facilitated the increased circulation of activists’ discourses at multiple levels. Therefore, along with the secularists and reformists, some of the most prominent sources of resistance discourses during the Mubarak–Shenouda era were from, or were given a forum in, the Coptic diaspora. During the swine flu incident, the diaspora websites did provide an avenue to express anger, allowing space for a wider debate. Anger was usually directed at the state rather than the Church and when the diaspora was praised in this context it was for offering a space to express anger over state persecution rather than critiquing the Church’s role. Where the Pope or Church is criticized by someone, the other members of the groups or forums normally defended the Church.20 Despite the alternative discourses promoted by the diaspora activists, the relationship between the diaspora as a whole and Church is strong. The Church was still a major definer of Coptic identity in the diaspora and is working hard to keep this position, often using the same electronic media that has increased the volume of the diaspora activist discourses, as well as publications.

Conclusion This book has uncovered the extent to which the state and the Church under Mubarak and Shenouda have felt the need to manage the dynamics of identity and belonging as Christian/Egyptian/Coptic, within Egypt’s borders and extending into the expanding Coptic diaspora. Despite the existence of challenging discourses, in the official mediated relationship between the state and the Church it seems clear that the Church is represented as being the voice of a fixed entity called the Coptic community, an identity labelled by Pope Shenouda as al-Sha’ab al-Qibti. Consequently, the discourse promoted by the Church has an impact on the experience of Coptic belonging and interaction in the national public space. Constructing Pope Shenouda as the arbiter for the Coptic community reinforced the sense that the state apparatus is the protector of Muslims and Islam only, so the neutrality of public institutions is jeopardized. The Coptic elite and diaspora have long represented a challenge to the authority of the Church but often struggle with the pressures to maintain ties of belonging and legitimacy. The diaspora activists have offered a space for self-expression and for releasing anger, a function of media used by both

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Church and state, for example through Roz al-Yusef and al-Katiba al-Tibia, to channel such sentiments into a space that does not impact directly on the public sphere as a whole and again it gives a veneer of free speech. This enables the leadership to claim further legitimacy by pointing to the ability to express resisting discourses. However, limits are maintained so that authority is not destabilized altogether. This balancing act proved to be a complex but essential task as a result of a series of political crises and increasing attacks on Copts and churches from late 2010 onwards. The complexity of this task was compounded further by the death of Shenouda in March 2012 after leading the Church and representing Copts for 41 years.

7

Revolution and political crisis Shifting discourses and relations of power

The observations of the preceding chapter describe the relationship between the Church, state and Copts under the circumstances established and maintained by the Shenouda–Mubarak pact. The situation generally remained fixed under the Shenouda–Mubarak leadership so long as the socio-political climate was stable and the majority of the community continued to place legitimacy in the Church leadership. How far political crisis would change this is a question that became urgent as the events of January 2011 unfolded and the authority structures that appeared so stable and enduring crumbled during the 18-day protest period. Although the events of January and February appeared to be a sudden development, the discourses behind the revolution’s language and aims were actually constructed over a period of time preceding the demonstrations. A culture of protest that had been evolving since the early 2000s emerged into prominence, with the media being one of the main battlegrounds in the struggle to define what Egypt after Mubarak means. This process offered a space for pushing the boundaries of political communication over a period of time. Has this breaking of taboos regarding state authority also impacted on the Church’s ability to claim legitimacy and maintain authority? The narrative of this book has indicated some of the ways that national socio-political trends were mirrored in the life and structures of the Coptic Church. Therefore, this chapter explores whether there have been parallel changes in discourses and aims within the Coptic community and relations of power that would explain the reaction of the Church and Copts to the 25 January revolution.

Re-contesting normalized discourses of Coptic Church authority The normalization of the Church and the Patriarch as the natural political actors for the Copts has not always been uncontested. They have always been subject to national social, economic and political factors and to negotiation with Copts, mainly from the elite, and the state in the decades. Prior to the Coptic Church revival of the second half of the twentieth century, the Church certainly did not have the legitimacy or the ability to perform such a dominant role for Copts. The strong presence of the Coptic elite in the

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Egyptian press underscored this. The controversial papacy of Yusab II (1946–56) illustrates that Copts can oppose the authority of a Patriarch directly. Yusab’s election as Patriarch was controversial from the start and he and his secretary were accused of corruption (Erlikh, 2001: 137). The crisis of legitimacy of the Pope in the eyes of Copts reached a critical point in July 1954 when a group of Copts who had formed an organization named the Coptic Nation abducted the Pope. After forcing their way into the Patriarchate the group, led by Ibrahim Hilal, presented their conditions to Yusab. They demanded his immediate abdication and a reorganization of Church structures, including ‘a union between the religious Holy Synod and the Majlis al-Milli’ (Ibrahim, 2011: 169). The Majlis al-Milli is a council composed of lay members of the Coptic community and had been a site of dispute over authority within the Coptic community since it was established in 1874 with permission from Egypt’s ruler Khedive Ismail. The aim of the council was to supervise Coptic affairs alongside the Church but immediately after the election of Cyril V as Patriarch in 1875 the council was dissolved because Cyril, ‘intended to be the sole authority in all matters pertaining to the Coptic Church’ (Meindarus, 2002: 72). The council was reinstated in 1883 but the disputes over areas of authority between the Church and the council continued, which demonstrates that Shenouda was not the first to consider the Pope to be the ultimate authority in overseeing Coptic affairs, nor is opposition to this authority unheard of. As with Church-controlled media like al-Katiba al-Tibia, the council under Shenouda largely became a space where opinions could be aired safely away from the public sphere and thus not challenge the Patriarch’s ultimate authority. This is summarized by Shenouda’s statement quoted by Meindarus: ‘the laity have the right to air their views, but not to govern the church!’ (2002: 74). In the case of Yusab II, the dispute was partly subdued by the state, which interfered to settle the disagreement (McCallum, 2010: 49). Yusab retired to a monastery until his death in 1956, after which time the office of Patriarch remained empty until 1959. This example not only points to the fluctuations of power relations between Copts and clergy but also to the fact that the state has often played a direct role in internal church disputes and in the running of Coptic Church affairs to ensure stability. Clearly, the relationship between the Church leadership and the state has also fluctuated but one pattern that has emerged is the tendency of Coptic orthodox patriarchs, such as Kyrilos VI and Shenouda during Mubarak’s presidency, to pursue policies which accentuate their loyalty to the Egyptian nation (McCallum, 2010: 55). This led McCallum to observe that, ‘the ability of the patriarch to defend his community has mostly depended on his relations with the ruler’ (2010: 59). This is precisely the normalized, apparently common-sense foundation upon which the Church’s claim to political authority has been based throughout the Shenouda–Mubarak era. This claim was reinforced by the claim of the Mubarak regime to be the last line of defence standing between Egyptians

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and the twin threats of instability and rule by radical Islamists. According to this argument, to support Shenouda was to support the stability of the state, and this guarded Egypt against the Muslim Brotherhood and the potential relegation of Copts to second-class status and a far greater degree of religious persecution. Although the relationship of the Church with the state was one of the consistent features of the Shenouda–Mubarak era and was heavily naturalized into discourses of protecting Copticness, Pope Shenouda’s support for the state and Mubarak in particular did lead to occasional expressions of discontent (al-Daragly, 13 February 2008; Fathi, 19 February 2008). The Internet, largely in the diaspora, was the key site for discussing this issue, since the press laws in Egypt are particularly strong on preventing criticism of Mubarak. The late Adly Abadir, former director of Copts United, used a Coptic diaspora conference in Chicago in 2007 to express his dissatisfaction with Mubarak’s rule, which he called ‘the biggest disaster for Copts as a result of his limiting of the political system and for lack of historical awareness and for allowing Saudi Wahhabism to infiltrate’ (al-Dawakhly, 21 October 2007). However, there are often signs of an attempt at appeasement. In an article in al-Gomhoriya (an official newspaper, which as a rule does not publish any articles on Coptic issues or the Coptic diaspora), Dr Nabil Abd al-Malek, a representative of the diaspora Copts in Canada stated that Copts all over the world are loyal to their motherland (my emphasis). According to al-Malak, Copts in Canada support Mubarak in building a modern Egypt based on the rule of law, social justice and lack of discrimination and he thanked Mubarak for his initiative to amend the constitution and his defence of citizenship and democracy (Morsi, 29 November 2007). It should be noted that this appeared at the time when efforts were being made to avoid a repeat of the Chicago conference by holding a conference in Cairo to bring diaspora voices inside the Egyptian national space. While a number of diaspora organizations were invited to this conference, those more outspoken and critical of Mubarak were excluded. The policy of the Church’s support for Mubarak could be more easily questioned through proxies. There was apparent anger after the release of the statement of support for Mubarak by Bishop Kyrilos of Naga’ Hamadi in 2005. The diaspora blog Freecopts published an article criticizing the use of religion to give Mubarak political legitimacy and anger was expressed against Mubarak (Free Copts, 7 September 2005). However, open criticism was not widespread and Pope Shenouda was rarely directly criticized, despite having also released a number of statements in support of Mubarak at the time. In one exception, diaspora activist Maurice Sadeq had repeatedly criticized Pope Shenouda directly and consequently Sadeq himself is often criticized in the press (Labib, 27 May 2010; al-Sha’ey, 13 May 2010). An al-Ahram columnist even denounced Sadeq as a Zionist and extremist (al-Masry, 16 May 2009 and 14 May 2010) and he was stripped of Egyptian

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nationality in 2011. Maurice Sadeq is the head of the American Coptic Union (ACU), perhaps the most radical of the American Coptic diaspora organizations. In 2005 he published an article in which he called Pope Shenouda a heretic (Sadeq, 9 August 2005). In 2007, the ACU opposed visas being issued to two Coptic Bishops to allow them to come to America. They claimed this would be ‘a danger’ to the Copts in America. At the same time, the organization issued a statement condemning Pope Shenouda’s denial of the persecution of Copts. Yet, at a demonstration held outside the White House organized by diaspora Coptic organizations to protest during Mubarak’s visit to America, participants stated that they had no links to Maurice Sadeq or his organization (Bayoumi, 12 August 2009) in a clear attempt to disassociate themselves from Sadeq’s controversial opinions. These reactions suggest that, even within the diaspora, the desire or ability to critique Pope Shenouda was limited. The Church is particularly concerned to defend its position when religion and political leadership are combined in an issue. The divorce issue is one example. The case of Atef Kyrilos was used as a mechanism to assert the Church’s authority justfied by the defence of theological purity. The maintenance of religious legitimacy and ability to manage the Coptic community is what gives the Coptic Church privileged status within the state and that status allows the Church to justify its monopoly on the role of spokesman for Copts. Since this relationship between the Church and state was based on mutual benefit, the Pope had to ensure that he continued to be seen as strong and authoritative. This explains the lack of tolerance for challenging voices, even when they are a small minority. In defending itself and asserting its status in the media, the Church is saying that the nation needs the Church’s authority to guarantee Coptic support for the government. The Pope has used elections and the amendments to the Constitution to show this. In 2010, it had appeared that the next challenge would be smoothing the way for the succession of Gamal Mubarak, who was endorsed by the Church through the statements of Anba Beshoy (al-Asar, 4 November 2007). This accounts for the Church’s negative attitude towards the emergence of Dr Mohamed ElBaradei, former head of the International Atomic Energy Agency, and his initiative for change in February 2010. In response to ElBaradei’s campaign to amend the constitution in order to enable a broader range of candidates to stand in the 2011 presidential elections, the Church released a series of statements reaffirming its support for the NDP. Dissent regarding Pope Shenouda’s political views was not only to be found in the diaspora or among Coptic activists but also within the ranks of the clergy. Father Athanasius Henein was a professor of Patristics in the early 1980s at the Coptic Seminary but Henein was also very active in the field of human rights and the rights of Copts. He organized various demonstrations in Greece and Europe with Coptic NGOs and met with prominent politicians to speak about the Coptic case in Egypt. This led the Egypt’s State Security to put on its blacklist so he was prevented from

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coming back to Egypt. Henein’s political activities also opposed Shenouda’s political stances. When Henein attended a conference in Austria in November 2009 about the persecution of Christians in the Middle East, Henein clearly stated that ‘Copts are suffering ethnic and cultural cleansing’ and he warned against the ‘dominant Wahhabi ideology in Egypt’.1 Discussing Coptic affairs abroad with all the implications of seeking foreign support at the expense of Egypt’s sovereignty, was not acceptable to the government nor therefore to the Coptic Church. On 13 May 2010 the Coptic patriarchate officially stripped Henein of his ordination and published a warning against associating with him. The official reason was that he fell into some ‘doctrinal errors’ in his sermons. Although lay Copts were not prevented from belonging to parties other than the NDP, Coptic clergymen were expected to follow the Church policy of support for the NDP. In one case a priest, Father Filopater Gamil, was prevented from serving in the liturgy by a papal decree in November 2005 after he joined al-Ghad party and published an article in al-Katiba al-Tibia criticizing the NDP explicitly and the government’s policies towards Copts.2 He had overstepped the limits of what is permitted to be published in this newspaper. The announcement, which was published in al-Keraza, stated that Gamil would be excommunicated if he repeated his ‘mistakes’ (al-Keraza, 9 December 2005). Gamil wrote another article in which he pledged his full support for Pope Shenouda and the Church’s official position on Mubarak and the NDP.3 Gamil also left al-Ghad and was restored to his position in a church in Giza in 2007. Unlike the Wafd for example, al-Ghad was not part of the permitted, though co-opted, political opposition. Therefore Gamil’s membership, which signified implicit opposition to the NDP, and also his explicit criticism of Mubarak’s party, had to be promptly ended by the Church.

Cracks in the Church–state pact More crucially for the Church’s authority, the latter half of 2010 witnessed signs of dissent between the Church and the state, perhaps giving an early indicator that political and social frustration could produce a crisis of authority for the state and even the Church. The first significant incident came with the case of Camilia Shehata in July 2010. The accusation that she had been imprisoned by the Church incited anger and protests among some Muslims. The situation worsened throughout August and continued well into 2011. This represented a new development. In the case of Wafa Costantine in 2004, Copts had protested asking for the state to intervene to locate and deliver her into the supervision of the Church, which is what eventually happened. In the case of Shehata, the state intervened quickly to locate her, and she was transferred to an undisclosed location under Church supervision where she publicly denied she had left Christianity. But this time the protests were held by Muslims calling on the state and Church to release

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her to live as a Muslim. Despite the controversy, the Church–state pact appeared firm at first. Speaking to al-Masry al-Youm in mid-September with parliamentary elections due in November, Anba Beshoy said that ‘our religions [sic] forbids us from hurting the president’. The Church had stood firm in its support when the challenge of ElBaradei emerged in February 2010 and Anba Beshoy once again underlined his own support for both Hosni and Gamal Mubarak: ‘I always say that I love President Mubarak, but I cannot force the Copts to vote for anyone even if it was Mubarak. … I am never discrete [sic] about my love for president Mubarak and his son, Gamal, a sincere love that is not a sort of compliment. Mubarak’s reign was the best period for Copts despite some problems which the president is innocent from stirring. Mubarak always stands by us and gives us our rights, and his son is a decent person who loves Copts (al-Masry al-Youm, 15 September 2010). Yet, as the controversy over Shehata failed to die down, tensions escalated after further comments from Anba Beshoy in September that called into question the authenticity of some verses in the Qur’an as well as suggesting that Muslims were guests in Egypt thus forcing Pope Shenouda to issue an apology (al-Masry al-Youm, 29 September 2010). This increased the pre-existing anger and Islamist protests against the Church escalated. Satellite channels loosely labelled Salafist, were used to insult Christians and the Coptic Church in late 2010 and to call for continued protests demanding the release of Shehata. The government shut down their broadcasts but did not act decisively to quash the demonstrations being held outside some of Cairo’s major mosques and the demonstrations grew throughout October even though Pope Shenouda met with officials to request that the authorities intervene to end them. On 4 October, Pope Shenouda cancelled a scheduled speech in Alexandria after protests against the Church were planned to coincide with his visit. In fact, on 22 October there was a protest outside one of Cairo’s major mosques, Masjid al-Nour. This is not a small marginalized mosque that can be dismissed as Salafidominated. It is a mainstream mosque linked to al-Azhar. This suggests that the protest may have been a symbolic warning from the state to the Church of the consequences if the Church oversteps its authority vis-à-vis the state or fails to keep its discourse within the accepted boundaries. For the state, with elections approaching, allowing protests to go ahead at governmentcontrolled sites, such as Masjid al-Nour, perhaps acted as a controllable channel for the expression of popular anger and frustration. It was preferable for the state that this took place away from the radical mosques, Islamist groups and also the ballot box. Despite the pact with the Church, it was also preferable that Pope Shenouda should be the focus of the criticism rather than the actions of the state in these incidents.

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The consequences of this were the appearance of cracks in the Churchstate relationship. Just as Mubarak had to balance pragmatism with the sentiments of demonstrators, so Shenouda could not appear weak in defending the Church. The consequences of failing in his defence of the Church would have been Coptic anger and protests and doubts over the Church’s ability to defend Coptic interests. This clash of interests was manifested in the Coptic protests that did emerge in Omraneya in November when the Governor of Giza refused to issue a permit for the building of a church. The conflict started when around 600 Copts tried to continue the building process during the night. This was discovered and reported to the security services who stopped the construction. In reaction to this, the situation rapidly escalated when Copts started to damage government buildings. Large Coptic protests were then held, which were believed to have the Patriarch’s endorsement. Pope Shenouda’s reaction against the government was unusually strong. On 24 November 2010, he expressed his anger with the security services in his weekly sermon and warned them of ‘God’s wrath’ and he made a reference to the persecution that Copts suffered under the Roman Empire until God transformed the empire into a Christian one (Khalil and Magdy, 26 November 2010). The events signalled a dramatic downturn of relations between the Pope and the President. This came to a head when there were rumours that Shenouda had voted for the Wafd rather than the NDP in November’s parliamentary elections. Until this point, the Church’s support for Mubarak’s NDP had appeared solid. It was also reported that some Church figures had called for Copts to boycott the election. It was also in November that leaders of Egypt’s different Christian denominations first endorsed the US State department’s annual report on religious freedoms. The yearly publication of this report is usually met with derision by all, including the Coptic Church. Endorsing the 2010 report was another symbolic attempt to express anger towards the state’s handling of Coptic affairs. A further manifestation of the squabble between the Church and the state can be found in the pages of the official church publication al-Keraza. The content of the two October issues, 25 and 26, was clearly and unusually political. On the front page of issue 25, an article attempted to encourage Mubarak’s positive interference in the matter of the protests against the Church over Anba Beshoy’s comments and Shehata’s conversion. The article entitled ‘The Events and the Need for Calm’ refers, without explicit details, to the weekly Islamist demonstrations that insulted Shenouda and criticized the Church. Within the article and in bold font the text states, ‘then, President Mubarak interfered, in his capacity as the shepherd of this state who works for its peace. He met intellectuals and prominent figures and gave them his orders to start writing against fanaticism’ (al-Keraza, 8 October 2010a). On page 6, Shenouda’s statements from the different TV interviews were gathered together and were written in an apologetic way to address the accusations levelled at the Church, including the issues of

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Camilia Shehata, the demonstrations against the Church, and the accusations that the Church is stockpiling weapons and converting Muslims (al-Keraza, 8 October 2010b). The issue went on to print a joint statement by the Patriarch and the sheikh of al-Azhar calling for the defence of national unity and praising Mubarak for his efforts to guard the ideas of national unity and al-Mowatana (al-Keraza, October 2010c). The publication’s unusual focus on political events – printing answers to accusations levelled against the Church and appealing to Mubarak as the one who can intervene to stem the wave of criticism against the Church, thereby continuing his tradition of protecting national unity and citizenship – seems to be a last-ditch appeal to the state to rescue the pact of mutual cooperation. However, this seems to have failed as the situation worsened in November and there was no repeat of this appeal in the November editions of al-Keraza. Also notable is that there were no statements of support for Mubarak or the NDP in the November issues either, despite the elections that were being held that month. This apparent breakdown in the cooperation of Church and state was severely tested on the cusp of the New Year. Approximately 1,000 Coptic Christians were celebrating mass on New Year’s Eve in al-Qidissayn Church in Alexandria when a bomb exploded outside the building. A total of 23 people are reported to have died and scores were injured in a blast that took place shortly after midnight. The attack instantly sparked violent clashes between Copts and Muslims and between Copts and the police. The Alexandria attack, emerging seemingly from no specific local dispute and coming at this sensitive time for Muslim–Christian relations, exploited the vulnerability of Egyptian society to sectarian tensions. While there were demonstrations and calls for Muslim–Christian unity in the face of terrorism, there were also reports that local Islamists in Alexandria had used this attack as an opportunity to promote campaigns against acknowledging Christian festivals and had called for Coptic businesses to be boycotted. On the forum Muslm.net, the participants discussing the bombing saw it as a natural response to the Coptic Church’s failure to meet the demands of an al-Qaeda linked terrorist group called the Islamic State of Iraq (ISI). When the ISI took 100 people hostage in a church in Iraq in October 2010, they explicitly called for attacks to be mounted on Egyptian churches unless Camilia Shehata and Wafa Costantine were released by the Coptic Church, which they claimed was holding these women captive. In its response to the al-Qidissayn bombing the government blamed foreign terrorists and relied on national unity platitudes. The Church itself was initially silent but Pope Shenouda confirmed that he would go ahead with Christmas services, normally held on 6 and 7 January. Not to have done so would have enflamed Coptic anger still further and pushed them to condemn the Church’s handling of the incident. The dissent that was rumbling below the surface erupted during the funeral services for the victims, indicating that the Alexandria attack had created a considerable crack in the

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classic unified position of Copts behind their Church leadership. The muted reaction of the Church to the attack and its declarations of support for Mubarak led people to reject Shenouda’s position for perhaps the first time on this scale. The origin of this resistance can be traced to the Omraneya protests in November 2010. During these protests Copts had broken through the taboo of protesting publicly without fear of the security services. The seeds sown in Omraneya were visible in the reactions of Copts after the Alexandria bombing and in their ability to challenge the speech of their Church leaders. Consequently, when Shenouda expressed gratitude towards Mubarak and the security services during the funeral services of the al-Qidissayn victims and again during the Christmas liturgy, this served to enflame the situation still further. Members of the congregation shouted their opposition to Mubarak and chanted simply and defiantly ‘No’. The result was a series of chaotic scenes that were broadcast live on the Coptic satellite channel CTV. The Church once again had to perform the delicate balance of keeping legitimacy in the eyes of the Copts while also satisfying the state and its need to appear to support it. Both elements are necessary for the Church leadership to retain its position. Clearly, the Church was under pressure to allow Copts to express their anger while at the same time refraining from any criticism of the government. After the discord of late 2010, the Church moved back to a more conciliatory position vis-à-vis the state in an attempt to restore stability. The Church’s efforts to re-assert its political position were only partially successful because the taboos could not be entirely restored and spaces for contestation were irrevocably expanded. A similar process had been taking place in the national public sphere. One example was the ability of bloggers to disseminate pictures of the al-Mahalla alKubra protests in 2008, during which protesters stamped on images of the former president. This arguably represented a turning point in the development of a new culture of protest which eventually enabled the 25 January revolt to take place with such colossal impact. Certainly, this series of events paved the way towards forming a relatively independent Coptic political stream that joined the 25 January uprising against the will of Shenouda who warned Copts against participation in any anti-government protests. While this research has shown that there have always been individual dissenters, mainly from the elite, like Bebawi and Henein, certain diaspora figures and a small group of Copts that form the Secular Front, the crisis of church authority that emerged from the Alexandria attack, followed closely by a national political crisis, opened up spaces for broader dissent throughout the layers of the Coptic community. Again, Coptic affairs were inextricably linked to developments and events at the national level, as well as to the development and expansion of new media. The previous chapter showed how some Copts have tried to locate and shape spaces for demotic discourses or direct challenges to various aspects of the Church’s official Copticness and its political leadership.

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The media has formed one of these spaces for individual Coptic agency, from the pages of national newspapers to diaspora websites. Although, on the whole official Copticness has been protected by the Church and a large proportion of the Coptic community guard against any erosion of Church authority, new media has at least made the existence of demotic discourses more visible. A similar trend took place at the level of national political activism. As the Church has sought to maintain its dominance and pre-eminent place in Coptic media spaces, so the state at the end of 2010 tried to pull back independent media to contain those challenging the legitimacy of the Mubarak government. Prior to the elections in November 2010, independent media became a target of a crackdown to reverse the relative liberalization of the media since the mid-2000s. The space afforded by the relative liberalism coupled with new technologies had enabled activists not only to locate each other (Faris, 2008) but also to push at boundaries of permitted speech and, as during the revolt, to connect with oppressed frustrations and translate them into political communication that challenged normalized discourses of state and power. As Bourdieu suggested, crisis and upheaval are often necessary to kick-start a process of reformation of habitus that has acted to normalize discourses of power relations into doxa. This appears to have happened within the Coptic community. While new media such as the Internet has allowed people to bypass the gatekeepers of information and power, it did not automatically confer legitimacy or connect with a broad audience. This partly explains why advances in media technology alone could not alter the complex but normalized relations of power connecting Copts, the state and the Church. The upheaval caused by discord between the Church and state in 2010, followed by the attack in Alexandria and the revolt, together returned previously naturalized discourses and power relations to a sphere where they could be contested. Bourdieu’s (1999) focus on the doxa that lies beneath discourse is particularly useful in understanding the formation of narratives. It also makes claims for the ability of discourse analysis to uncover social and political processes that have become implicit or ‘forgotten’ through being normalized into the shared cultural meanings and assumptions that operate, often on an unconscious level, in social relations. In this way the interests of a dominant group in society are protected by assumption and habit because they are naturalized as common sense and therefore appear immune to challenge, except occasionally in times of economic or political crisis (Bourdieu, 1999: 169). In Egypt, while pulling down prominent symbols of authority was achieved in a short time, giving the appearance of great change, fundamental change that is broad-based and sustainable requires a longer term vision. This is why, although institutions may not look the same, they are operating at the basic level in an almost identical way as before the revolution. This applies to the Church. The Church leadership was certainly quieter in its public statements in the

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wake of Mubarak’s resignation, with the previously most forthright spokesman Anba Beshoy having disappeared almost entirely. This displayed the vulnerability, not only of the Church, but of all power structures. Even the SCAF was forced to display reactionary behaviour in its tendency to change policies after each major protest held since 11 February. In the climate that prevailed, authority could not be taken for granted.

The Church and the revolution The series of crises affecting Copts probably increased their ability to reject the Church’s calls not to protest against Mubarak in January 2011. After plans for the Day of Rage on 25 January were publicized, both the Church and the Muslim Brotherhood declared their total rejection of the idea. Shenouda told servers in churches to convince people not to go to such protests and to stay at home. He launched a campaign, administered by priest Abdulmaseeh Baseet, called ‘Let’s pray for Egypt’ which urged Copts to stay at home and pray instead of protesting. The campaign employed the different means of communication to ‘manage’ Copts and keep them at home during the protests. It was assisted with intensified media statements and ecclesiastical publications emphasizing a number of Pauline Bible verses, such as ‘Thou shalt not speak evil of the ruler of thy people’.4 In this way it was suggested that these protests were sinful and participating in them could lead to destruction and instability in Egypt. It was not only the Coptic Orthodox Church though that warned against participation, the Coptic Catholic and Evangelical churches shared the same official position (Khalil, 24 January 2011). However, the consecutive disappointments of the state’s failure to protect Copts, especially the catastrophic events in Alexandria, unveiled an oppressed wrath among many Christians who refused to go to the churches for the services of prayers conducted on 25 January to distract them from the revolution. This embarrassed Shenouda, especially after the dramatic change in the scene on 28 January in favour of the demonstrators. Pope Shenouda appeared on state television and publicly attacked the revolution by calling it destructive, and stated that he had called Mubarak and reiterated his total support for him.5 Yet Copts continued to take part in the events. One eyewitness account from Alexandria that I received on 2 February, the day the Internet came back online, described events in an Alexandrian church when the priest had attempted to lead the congregation out into the streets after a liturgy in order to form a march in support of Mubarak. According to the witness, the majority of the worshippers refused and, once outside, the priest was prevented from continuing his march by anti-Mubarak protesters.6 Yet the Church continued to make considerable efforts to reduce Coptic participation and no doubt this did persuade many, particularly away from the major centres of protest such as in Upper Egypt where the full impact of

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events in Tahrir Square and the northern cities was not felt. One witness described how a local church held a campaign to encourage Copts not to participate and one of the youth servers from the church posted warnings on Facebook calling for obedience to the request of the Church. However, a higher number than he had expected were able to move outside this exhortation to obedience and previous adherence to Pope Shenouda’s political stances and took part in the demonstrations.7 However, he also found that many of those who did defy the Church’s initial call to boycott any demonstrations did not criticize Shenouda’s position but saw it as his attempt to protect them from any violence. Such justifications enabled some Copts to reconcile their support for Shenouda’s advice and their participation in the protests to remove Mubarak. For both Shenouda and these Copts it was less disruptive of social norms to believe that they were not defying Shenouda’s requests. This left room for the established authority structures to remain in place after the revolt, although they are not entirely unchanged. As with national politics, public discourses are open to negotiation, with the numerous different spheres of power and new activists all competing to shape events and socio-political structures in post-Mubarak Egypt. Copts are part of this process and the Church is attempting to navigate its path in this new climate. Some of the big questions that are under negotiation concern structures of political power and authority, the meaning of a civil state and the role of religion in a democratic state. Inevitably these questions opened up similar questions in the sub-sphere of the Coptic Church. One small indication of shifting boundaries of Coptic public discourses can be found on social media. A new group called ‘Egyptian Christian and Pope Shenouda does not Represent me Politically’ was created on 30 March 2011.8 Between 30 March and 8 August, 600 members had joined and there were 1,693 posts. By 30 September the group had attracted 1,415 members. It is likely that, prior to January 2011, such a group would probably have attracted significant criticism from Copts on Facebook. This does seem to represent a new trend. Looking back at the Coptic Freethinkers Facebook group, one member had tried to start a discussion about the Church’s endorsement of Gamal Mubarak in August 2009. Without giving his own opinion, the member posted an article published in the LA Times but no one joined the discussion. In November 2010, a more direct comment was posted by one member who said he was concerned by the Church’s implicit support for the president and his son. Again no comment was generated, at least publically on the group’s wall, although two members ‘liked’ the post. Despite this group’s stated aims when it was created, it had been unable to generate significant debate in the way that new groups in 2011 have. One major illustration of an increased willingness to challenge the Church’s political authority is the re-emergence of the divorce/remarriage debate since the revolution. Former Prime Minister Essam Sharraf re-opened

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the negotiations over a new unified personal status law for non-Muslims. The draft produced by a council of Coptic Orthodox, Catholic and Protestant churches rejected the concept of civil marriage so that only marriages conducted in church are legally recognized. This raised again the problem of re-marriage because of the unwillingness of the Coptic Church to issue the appropriate licences to enable these marriages to take place in church. This led to the establishment of a protest movement called ‘The Right to Live Movement’. Tensions rose and culminated in a series of protests outside the patriarchal cathedral while the head of the clerical council in charge of issuing licenses, Anba Boula, was inside. According to reports, on 18 July 2011 a dog was used by security guards to disperse the demonstrators and the incident became known in the media as the ‘Dog Battle’, which implicitly referred to the infamous ‘Camel Battle’ in Tahrir Square of 2 February. In an interview with Roz al-Yusef magazine, Anba Boula admitted that he gave the orders to set the dog on the demonstrators and considered that these protests were ‘one of the negative fruits of the so-called the Egyptian revolution of 25 January because people now protest and demonstrate against anything they reject instead of appealing to law’ (Fikry, 20 August 2011). Pope Shenouda was forced to suspend the activities of the clerical council temporarily in order to try to mediate some of the anger but, like the Camel Battle, the Dog Battle incited anger among some Copts, which culminated in the announcement by a group of Copts that they would leave the Coptic Orthodox Church in protest. Although the group was relatively small, it was nevertheless a significant departure from the norms of the Coptic community and is perhaps the most striking development to emerge out of the crisis of authority between Copts and the Church that had its roots in the Omraneya incident and the al-Qidissayn bombing. In September, al-Masry al-Youm reported that 120 Copts had officially given notice to the Coptic Church that they were leaving the denomination (Khalil, 18 September 2011). Although the phenomenon of Copts converting to Islam or to another Christian denomination in order to change their jurisdiction for personal status issues existed, it was rarely done publicly. In the case of females who tried to convert, for example to get a divorce, this often led to scandals like those of Shehata and Costantine. In these cases, the issues were personal and not publically directed at criticizing the Church. In the past even those who publicly dissented against the Patriarch or the Church did not leave the Coptic Church of their own volition. Some were forcibly excommunicated and others, such as members of the Secular Copts Front, fought to maintain their membership in the Church while challenging some aspects. Despite this change among Copts and their capacity to dissent publicly, the coverage of the controversy was similar to that observed in 2007/08. Roz al-Yusef gave most coverage to the Coptic protests and used the term ‘Dog Battle’ in its reports to describe what it called an unprecedented escalation of the tensions between the Church and

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‘victimized citizens’ (Fikry, G. 20 August 2011). In an earlier article, the headline clearly links the re-marriage issue directly to criticism of Pope Shenouda: ‘Second Marriage: ignites Coptic anger against the Pope’ (alBagory, 26 July 2011). A caricature accompanying the article depicts a priest blindfolded and unable to see that a revolution has happened although it is being pointed out to him by those around him. The implicit message is that the Church leadership is still behaving as if no revolution has taken place and is trying to ignore the fact that Egypt and Egyptians have changed. In contrast, al-Ahram covered the news with emphasis on the perspective of the Church so there was no departure from the pre-revolution approach to reporting such incidents. One news article covering the protests was entitled ‘Coptic Protesters Assault Bishop Boula and Hit him inside the Cathedral’ (Wahba, 18 July 2011). Again in contrast to the coverage of Roz al-Yusef, al-Ahram published a statement made by Anba Boula that accused Coptic protesters of distorting the image of the revolution (al-Ahram, 18 July 2011). According to al-Ahram, a meeting between Shenouda and Boula was not a reprimand in the wake of the ‘Dog Battle’ but simply a friendly strategy meeting (Sadeq, 26 July 2011). The most notable difference between coverage in al-Ahram and Roz al-Yusef was that the former never used the term ‘Dog Battle’ to describe what happened. Watani’s coverage was less accusatory than Roz al-Yusef ’s but in one article after the incident with the dog, it did mention the term ‘Dog Battle’ and clearly indicated that Pope Shenouda would be launching an investigation of the incident after suspending the work of the clerical council on a temporary basis. While the article did mention the complications concerning the issue of divorce and re-marriage that have worsened since an amendment in 2008 made divorce permissible by the Coptic Church for only two reasons, this article mainly focused on the issue of Anba Boula’s role in the ‘Dog Battle’ (Shukri, 22 July 2011). The focus of criticism remained on Anba Boula, quoting witnesses who complained of his bad behaviour. At the same time, the attempt by protesters to physically attack Anba Boula and prevent him from entering the clerical council office was repeated in most reports on the issue (Shukri, 18 July 2011; Shukri, 25 July 2011). In this way, blame was not apportioned to just one side. The similarities with the media coverage of the divorce/remarriage issue in 2007/08 are clear while the major differences are to be found in the reactions of the lay Copts and their willingness to take to the streets, not only in front of the church but also in front of state institutions. Still, the appearance of organized groups of Copts demonstrating for the right to divorce and remarry and the creation of groups such as the Facebook group asserting that the Pope is not the political leader of Egyptian Christians, while representing significant developments, have to be viewed in proportion. The number of demonstrators on this issue is not thought to have exceeded 120–50 people who have been directly affected by the difficulty of obtaining permission to divorce and/or remarry. When public protests became a

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possible avenue of resistance in the wake of the 25 January uprising, those who had been struggling through the courts and within the church to obtain permission to divorce or remarry moved their struggle to the public space. But support for Shenouda and the Church’s stance on remarriage still also exists, as it did in the examination of the same debate in 2007/08. A Facebook group supporting the Patriarch and the Church’s stance on divorce and remarriage had 20,500 members in October 20119 and another group aiming to make Pope Shenouda’s page the most popular on Facebook has 37,133 members at the time of writing after increasing by over 1,000 members in the first week of October 2011.10

A Church–SCAF pact? Once Mubarak fell, the Church changed its earlier stance against the protests and welcomed the transfer of power to the SCAF in order to avoid the backlash that quickly came into play against individuals and groups that had supported Mubarak throughout the protests. It is also a continuation of the Church policy of protecting Coptic interests by cultivating a relationship with the executive power. No issues of al-Keraza were published between November 2010 and April 2011. April’s issue carried an official statement from the Church regarding the revolution. The statement first paid tribute to those who led the revolution and those who lost their lives. It then congratulated the army for protecting Egypt and expressed support for the decision of the SCAF to dissolve parliament. In July, an article in al-Masry al-Youm quoted Pope Shenouda as stating that the former regime had addressed sectarian violence with complete arrogance (Khalil, 11 July 2011). This confirms that, despite appearances in the past 30 years, Shenouda’s loyalty was not to Mubarak but to the executive power. Withdrawing support from Mubarak is a superficial change in the Church’s political stance because the Church has simply sought to recreate the Mubarak–Shenouda relationship with the SCAF. This explains why the Church once again publicly condemned the 2011 US report on religious freedom and once more denied that there is religious discrimination in Egypt, after its praise of the report in 2010. The political crisis increased the vulnerability of the Church–state pact but the Church had clearly intended to try to resurrect its former state, this time with the SCAF. The political crisis of the revolution was not sufficient to alter habitus immediately. However, the increased frequency of attacks on churches since the SCAF came to power, when combined with the cracks in the Church–state pact experienced by the Church and Copts in late 2010, accelerated a process of reformation of habitus and exposed doxa to negotiation more quickly and strongly than might otherwise have been the case. The incident that made the establishment of an effective Church– SCAF pact more precarious was a violent clash between mainly Coptic protesters and army soldiers on 9 October 2011. At least 27 people died and

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more than 300 were injured when violence broke out between protesters and army police. This was not a normal case of sectarian tensions escalating among the population but a deliberate act of violence undertaken by the army against Copts. Although there were Muslims marching in solidarity, the majority of the protesters were from Egypt’s Christian communities. The march was provoked after a church, which was thought to be unlicensed, in the village of Merinab near Aswan was destroyed on 30 September. However, it was essentially a protest against the rule of the SCAF, which has seen increased attacks on Copts since March 2011 (Monir, 7 October 2011). The march started peacefully but, shortly before the marchers arrived at Maspero from Shubra, disturbances erupted. Video clips began circulating almost immediately via the Internet showing armoured personnel carriers (APCs) crushing protesters11 and soldiers opening fire.12 The SCAF blamed the protesters for starting the violence, whereas eyewitness accounts of both Muslims and Christians place the blame on the soldiers (Tadros, 2011). The part played by the army and the subsequent statements of the SCAF that placed the blame for aggression on Copts made the Church’s previous attempts to restore the Church–state pact temporarily untenable and Pope Shenouda’s anger was clear in his first Wednesday address at the Coptic cathedral in Abassiya after the incident. Although he made no mention of the SCAF, his comments on what happened were entirely at odds with the SCAF’s version. He told the congregation that Coptic blood ‘is not cheap’ and that twothirds of those killed were shot, while a third were crushed by army APCs.13 During the Shenouda–Mubarak pact, the relationship was given legitimacy by the normalization of narratives that emphasized the state’s protection of Copts. After Maspero, this was contested not only by Copts but also, at least at first, by Pope Shenouda. However, in the following week, representatives of the government and of the SCAF met with Pope Shenouda and his bishops, not with Coptic activists or the leaders of the Maspero Youth Union that had been guiding the Coptic protest movement. The efforts to address the issue of the laws on church-building were revived in negotiations between the Church and the government. This indicated the re-alignment of Church and state once more according to the entrenched pattern. Pope Shenouda stuck by his policy of rejecting any outside role in the investigation into the Maspero violence, while the Coptic Youth Union, who organized many of the Coptic protests, appeared to be divided over whether to heed Shenouda’s advice (Khalil, 23 October 2011). The Church was once again charged with the delicate balancing act of managing Coptic grief and anger at the same time as reasserting the pact with the state. This explains why the Church carefully controlled the situation when SCAF representatives first went to offer their condolences on 16 October. The Church permitted only the Coptic television channels to cover the meeting so that coverage could be controlled (Sha’aban and Magdy, 16 October 2011). This demonstrates that, despite the series of dramatic events and increase in the

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activism of individual Copts, Pope Shenouda’s strategy of acting as interlocutor between the state and Copts was relatively unchanged at this point.

The Church and Coptic protests The Church clearly recognized the urgent need to mediate with the Copts as well as the SCAF in order to restore the status quo. As well as the Coptic protests against the Church regarding the marriage/divorce issue, a series of protests and sit-ins was held by Copts outside Cairo’s television building known as Maspero. With each attack on Copts or on a church, the protest intensified because of a perceived failure of the state to bring the perpetrators to justice. In fact the SCAF simply adopted the mechanism of mediation and reconciliation meetings used in Mubarak’s time to resolve sectarian tensions. As a result, those instigating sectarian attacks were often still not being brought to justice and the victims remained uncompensated. It is interesting that the protesters chose the symbolic home of the state media rather than Tahrir Square or a church to launch this movement. They clearly intended to make their demands publically seen and heard. One of their demands was the establishment of objective media channels, calling for a cleansing – Tathir – of the media (al-Ahram, 7 May 2011). This term was applied in various ways after the revolution by those calling for a cleansing of the state and other institutions and this has echoes of the Tathir discourse that emerged after the 1952 Free Officers’ revolution. This term was used to call for reforms across the board in the early 1950s and this movement was adopted by Copts and used to promote the ‘purification’ of Church structures (Ibrahim, 2011: 157–62). If this narrative can gather such momentum in the wake of this revolution it could be adopted by Coptic activists, once more to be employed as an alternative to the human rights and separation of Church and state narratives that Coptic activists in Egypt and the diaspora have tried to employ but with limited success. Purification, with its sense of returning to authenticity rather than of introducing narratives such as secularism or human rights that can be linked to foreign or inauthentic aims, could present a more easily acceptable language for calling for reform. However it is eventually framed, there was certainly a strong Coptic movement during and after the 25 January revolution participating in protests calling for reform at the national level and for protection of Copts. Groups were formed, including the Maspero Youth Union. It is interesting to note that the group named itself as a youth union without automatically defining itself as Coptic. On 15 May, Patriarch Shenouda III sent a message to the demonstrating Copts calling them to break up the demonstration, because ‘the patience of the leaders is running out’ and he told them that ‘you will be the losers’.14 The openly threatening language and wording of the message caused a complete, and equally public, rejection by Coptic protesters of Shenouda’s message.15 This represents a new and bold step in terms of recent Copt–Church

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relations that perhaps had its roots in the aftermath of the al-Qidissayn violence and grew up in the 25 January climate. The Church reacted quickly and, the next day, Shenouda sent a message via the priest, Matthias Nasr who has been one of the more visible Church figures since the uprising. In the message, Shenouda told the demonstrators that their demands are justifiable and he ‘can’t impose any pressure on his children’. The tone of this message was clearly very different from the first and indicates some of the subtle changes that the Church was forced to make to adapt to a new socio-political environment. Like the government, which changed its policy, for example, over the trial of Mubarak after major demonstrations in April, the Church had to offer flexibility when challenged by protesters in order to maintain authority overall. While the Church still sees itself as the major authority for Copts, it is more vulnerable than before and recognizes that the old paradigms must have some flexibility, at least until the national situation stabilizes. The Church has kept far more aloof from politics than was its usual practice before 25 January. But, while the Copts participating in protests did not stop on the advice of the Patriarch, Shenouda’s subsequent acceptance of the Copts’ demands did not lead to an immediate broadening of the protests. The Church recognized that it must concede some political space to Coptic activists to participate in the emergent activism in the national public sphere, but the Church continues to assert itself and express its political position. In summary, the situation is more fluid and elastic despite the norms that operate the Copt–Church relationship remaining generally operational. Copts taking part in civil action, not by going to the Church but by demonstrating outside Maspero, is a development of Coptic agency and does undoubtedly have implications for the relationship between Copts and their Church leadership and between Copts and governmental leadership. Like the protesters at Maspero, Copts demonstrating over the right to divorce and remarry held protests outside the Ministry for Justice as well as the patriarchal cathedral (Carr, 15 September 2011). The continuation and development of this trend is dependent on how the national political scene unfolds and how far Copts are able to participate in national dialogues.

Conclusion The Church was clearly reluctant to move from its official support for Mubarak and the NDP and expected the clergy to support this position in order to maintain a unified and stable position for the Church in the national scene. However, the Church leadership did withdraw its full acquiescence during the period of discord in late 2010. This was followed by the crisis in Alexandria that shook the Church–Copt relationship and then by the 25 January revolution, and as a result the crisis was compounded into both a social and political one at the national level as well as an internal Coptic one. The developments that ensued changed the balance of power

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relations, although the extent and endurance of this was unclear six months later. The instability and vagueness of the situation during Egypt’s transition appear to have enabled spaces for protest to expand and Copts have built on the experience of Omraneya and al-Qidissayn as well as the revolution to move their accessible sites of resistance beyond the church space and into public spaces in a way that was not possible during most of Shenouda’s papacy. The trend has the potential to develop into a broader reform movement but the success of this is linked to the national context and how far the transition period enables real change in relations of power. Bourdieu (1999: 169) suggests that a crisis is necessary to reopen doxa to discursive challenge. But while a major political crisis can open up new channels for activism and expand the boundaries of discourse, this can only provide the conditions needed to begin a reformation of patterns of habitus but not the new patterns themselves. That requires a process of interplay between multiple social processes over time. Any new form of habitus, or the renegotiation of doxa and the authority structures that it legitimizes, is a process that is shaped by a series of interactions rather than a single event. A socio-political crisis points to change but does not necessarily indicate the eventual shape of that change in actual lived social experience, or how it will shape the process of negotiating discourses. Perhaps the most crucial factor for the future of Coptic political agency and patterns of Church authority is the manner in which the political agenda of the Islamist bloc unfolds. Fears of marginalization often push Copts to rally behind their Pope and Church even more strongly.

8

Copts, sectarianism and citizenship in post-25 January Egypt

Although the protests that began on 25 January dramatically altered the faces visible in the top ranks of the government, the institutions themselves proved more resistant to change. Members of the dissolved NDP remained on the political scene in new incarnations and the SCAF expended considerable effort to ensure that the privileged place in the system for top army figures would remain. A similar process took place in the media. Editors were fired but the layers beneath remained and policies and practices that were ingrained were resistant to change. The previous chapter indicated that for the Coptic Church too, dramatic change has emerged alongside substantial stability in its relations both with Copts and with the state. This calls into question the extent to which the political earthquake of 25 January did in fact alter political structures and power relations. This doubt extends to the question of where the sectarianism problem fits into a post-Mubarak Egypt and what the prospects are for relations between Copts, the state and the Church. Also unclear is whether changes in the dynamics of these relations have the potential to impact on the shape of Egypt’s political future, particularly in terms of ideas such as the civil state, inclusiveness and citizenship. The meaning and implementation of a culture of citizenship was increasingly emerging as a narrative during the period on which this book focuses. The negotiations became even more crucial and contentious in the aftermath of Egypt’s 25 January revolution. Defining the principle of citizenship and what it means in practice for Egypt is contentious because it touches on questions of national identity and the meaning of the civil state, particularly in terms of the extent to which religious principles shape national institutions and national life. The term ‘civil state’ is one that has been almost universally adopted by different political streams in Egypt to replace the more controversial terms of ‘secular state’ and ‘religious state’. However, convergence in terminology does not necessarily mean convergence in understandings of this terminology. This chapter is not a discussion of theories of citizenship or the civil state, but it does offer an examination of how the meanings of these terms appear in the public and media discourses of post-25 January Egypt, with particular reference to the Coptic experience and the matter of sectarianism.

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State media, sectarianism and Coptic protests Images of the cross and crescent abounded during the uprising in order to assert the inclusivity of the protests, to reject attempts by groups – including the Muslim Brotherhood – to hijack the popular protests and also to defy the official stance of the Coptic Orthodox Church, which advised Copts not to join the protests. This demonstrates that the national unity discourse is not one employed only in reaction to inter-communal violence by the media, the state and the Church, but also by Egyptians as a discourse for national resistance movements. This is due to the collective consciousness held among Egyptians of the 1919 national resistance movement and its association with national unity and the ‘cross and crescent’ symbolism. Yet this experience of national unity co-existed with the propensity for prejudice concerning the religious other to be manipulated in order to inflame tensions and suspicion. The 25 January revolt shifted attention from the bombing in Alexandria on 1 January 2011 and the shooting of a Copt by a policeman on a train on 12 January, as it re-categorized people temporarily into pro-Mubarak and anti-Mubarak camps. This was the only important line of difference during the main protest period. Despite the efforts of many of those who participated in the uprising, the situation later deteriorated after the immediate euphoria following Mubarak’s resignation. Sectarianism reared its head in the political and security vacuum that opened up during the transition. Salafi channels that had previously been banned on the Egyptian satellite Nilesat went back on air. Islamist figures, such as Aboud al-Zomor who was involved in the assassination of the former president Sadat, were released from prison and began to appear frequently in the media, including in interviews on state television. In this climate, a series of rumours and counter-rumours involving the classic points of sectarian tensions – conversion and church construction – escalated into violence. Among the most serious incidents sparked by controversy related to conversion was the attack on two churches in Imbaba on 7 May 2011 that left 15 people dead. Taking place almost three months after the transfer of power to the SCAF and with many of the top figures of state media having been sacked for their former bias towards Mubarak, this makes an interesting case study for consideration of whether the revolution has impacted on the way sectarian violence is covered in the media. In response to a rumour that a female convert to Islam was being held hostage in St Mina church in the poor district of Imbaba in Cairo, a large crowd of people surrounded the church at 6 pm on 7 May. The investigation committee commissioned by the Egyptian National Council for Human Rights (ENCHR) produced a report on the incident. According to this report, the crowd came from the mosque across the street with weapons (Ali, 13 May 2011). The standoff lasted for around ten hours and spread to a second church, St Mary the Virgin, also in Imbaba. As the mob moved to the second church, Coptic property was attacked.

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The Council’s report also showed that the police retreated from the whole area a few minutes after the beginning of the attacks and that army forces were present while the churches and Christian properties came under attack and yet failed to interfere, according to the various witnesses cited. Sheikh Abu Anas, the Salafist sheikh of a mosque in Imbaba, appeared in front of a camera and told the assembled crowd that, ‘We will not be real men if we failed to burn down all of Imbaba’s Churches!’.1 The clip was circulated via YouTube, as were further clips showing mobs destroying churches while shouting ‘Allahu Akbar’.2 Al-Ahram newspaper’s coverage portrayed a different picture. In an article on the incident on the front page of the newspaper on 9 May, al-Ahram claims that a Christian merchant was the mastermind behind the attack on the churches (Sha’aban et al., 10 May 2011). This represents a development because the examination of the coverage of sectarian violence prior to the end of 2010 showed that denial or forgetfulness were among the main characteristics of state media discourses of sectarianism. While most of alAhram’s coverage did omit using the label sectarian, rather than diffusing the claims of Muslim–Christian violence by pointing to other causes for the violence, this newspaper headline specifically identifies a Christian as the instigator. This more direct approach can be seen as starting to emerge with the coverage of the Omraneya protests in November 2010, as a sign of the discord between Church and state. According to one al-Ahram headline reporting the Omraneya protests, Copts – not demonstrators or protestors – attacked the Giza governorate building after permission for the church building was refused. There was no mention of injuries or deaths among the protesters in contrast to the detailed list given of injuries and losses among the security services (al-Ahram, 24 November 2010). The headline accusing a Christian of being the cause of the Imbaba attack also linked the violence to former NDP members, which suggests that this violence was a remnant of the previous regime and so ran counter to postrevolution government. Al-Ahram is a state-owned newspaper and the state was no longer NDP but the SCAF, so the prominence of Mubarak’s picture on the front page had seamlessly shifted to pictures of the leader of the SCAF, Field Marshall Tantawi. This criticism of the NDP resembles the way in which Nasser attacked the monarchy, Sadat undermined Nasser’s legacy and Mubarak undermined both Nasser and Sadat. One of the tools used by all of them was state media. Perhaps this was also a convenient way to provide a distraction from the political jostling that was taking place to remove military rule and replace it with a civilian caretaker council to oversee the transition. This would seem to fall in line with comments by an Egyptian political analyst, Ammar Ali Hassan, who was quoted as saying, ‘the SCAF seeks to undermine civilian politicians in the voters’ eyes and “drain” them with “fake” ideological fights over the secular-versus-religious identity of the state’ (al-Hennawy, 6 October 2011).

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At the same time as making these specific accusations, other articles in alAhram identified the protagonists at Imbaba as simply being unknown ‘thugs’ and so concluded that this was not a sectarian incident (Sha’aban and Abdul Majid, 10 May 2011) but an attack on ‘the Egyptian fabric’ (Saleh, 9 May 2011). This more familiar narrative was repeated when the same story was published again the following day. To underline the argument that the Imbaba clashes were not sectarian, al-Ahram quoted al-Azhar in saying that the incident was terrorism not sectarianism (al-Ahram, 9 May 2011). These mixed and often contradictory messages in al-Ahram suggest that there was confusion as to how such an incident should be covered. An article appearing almost a week after the incident does use the term ‘sectarian discord’ and is in the format of an interview with a sheikh and a bishop (Khalifa, 13 May 2011). This article did discuss in depth the general problem of discord between Muslims and Christians in Egypt. Perhaps by the time the article was published, which was on the same day as the results of the Egyptian National Council for Human Rights (ENCHR) investigation were published in al-Masry al-Youm, it was undeniable that there was a sectarian element to the violence. Both the sheikh and the bishop focus on the social and economic reasons they believe to be behind the phenomenon and both indicate that the previous government’s efforts to address the problem were both ineffective and superficial. This places the blame on the failings of the pre-revolution regime and not on the army, whereas the ENCHR report into the violence blames the police and army for failing to protect the churches. By comparing the coverage of al-Ahram and al-Masry al-Youm, a number of contrasts can be identified. These two newspapers were chosen for comparison purposes because al-Ahram represents the most influential state paper and al-Masry al-Youm the most read independent newspaper. First, the claim that the person behind the clashes was a Christian only appeared in one early al-Ahram article and never in al-Masry al-Youm. Second, while al-Ahram suggested that the attack was variously provoked by a Christian, former NDP members and thugs and a large proportion of the articles on the subject did not refer to the incident as being sectarian, al-Masry al-Youm referred to the events as sectarian clashes (al-Badry, 7 May 2011) and a sectarian crisis (Abdul Rady, 10 May 2011) from the start. Unlike al-Masry al-Youm, which published the full text of the report into the incident by the ENCHR, al-Ahram paid no significant attention to the investigation. This can be explained by the findings of the report, which implicated the army and the police in their failure to intervene and prevent the violence. In contrast, al-Ahram used the events to justify the army’s use of military courts to try civilians. The trials of civilians in military courts is a practice that was heavily criticized by the Revolutionary Youth Coalition and many others since the SCAF came to power. The cessation of these trials was one of the primary demands of the revolutionary coalitions.

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Another major difference was that, while al-Ahram articles denied the link between the events and Salafi groups, al-Masry al-Youm made the connection directly, describing events in the headline of one article as ‘violent clashes between Salafis and Copts’ (Abdul Latif, 7 May 2011). Rather than the strategy often employed by official media of denying that there is a sectarian problem and the normal reliance on national narratives to assert the sameness of all Egyptians, one article detailing an interview with an Imbaba resident suggests a worrying culture of difference (Azzat, 9 May 2011). The article begins with a question addressed to the main interviewee, ‘Mustafa, how could you distinguish between Muslims and Christians in the fighting yesterday?’ Mustafa answers with incredulity, ‘From the facial features, everyone knows this. Also your heart, religion and faith tells you.’ A second man adds, ‘Its about your creed, so of course this makes a difference!’ This was a very different scenario to those individual stories used to personify the national unity narratives and does appear to represent a small departure from the pre-revolution reification of personalized national unity narratives. State media’s coverage was tested again a few months later by the violence that erupted on 9 October between protesters and the army. In the confusion, state media began reporting that Copts were attacking unarmed soldiers with guns. State media failed to report the rising numbers of Copts killed in the clashes, while repeating reports that three soldiers had been killed. This echoes the reports on the Omraneya clashes in al-Ahram. In this case, the initial reports of the soldiers’ deaths were never officially confirmed. One state television presenter, Rasha Magdy, called on all the ‘honourable men’ to go out to the streets to help protect the soldiers from the attacks of Coptic protesters.3 Thugs who gathered in the district of Boulaq with sticks and swords to join the army against the protesters were praised by the Egyptian Satellite Channel (ESC) for defending the army and forcing Copts to retreat.4 This produced widespread anger and accusations against the state media. Three news producers at Egyptian State TV publicly accused their channel of sectarian incitement. Meanwhile there were reports that the army directly interfered with independent television channels. Pro-revolution station Channel 25 was stormed by the army and taken off air. Al-Hurra TV reported that military police stormed their Cairo office searching for Coptic protesters. The next day the front page of the official newspaper al-Akhbar showed two pictures, one of a priest with the caption below reading ‘incitement’ and then a picture of burnt out cars and destruction caused by the incident with the caption below reading ‘sabotage’. This implied a direct a link between Copts, as represented by the priest, and the destruction.5 On the front page of al-Ahram, one headline stated that the military prosecutor was investigating 25 suspects for causing damage and attacking the army (al-Ahram, 10 October 2011). The reports that appeared in the independent press, such as al-Masry al-Youm and al-Dostour, mainly described the violence variously as a massacre, a bloodbath and a tragedy. Considerable space was given to printing detailed accounts of what seemed to happen

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on 9 October. Al-Ahram coverage stood out by referring to the violence only as the ‘Maspero incident’. Despite the broad and heavy criticism of the state media coverage, in a press conference held on 12 October, General Etman, a SCAF representative, praised the state media’s coverage and denied that the army interfered in any way. The violence, recorded on video yet denied by the SCAF, has shocked some Egyptians into self-examination on the issue of sectarianism and equality. On 9 October it was Egyptian soldiers, who had been previously been set up as the guardians of the protesters during the uprising, that caused the death of the Copts. This is dangerous for the fledgling Coptic movements that seek to establish a direct relationship with their state, rather than through the intermediary of the Church. Without the ability to appeal to the state, Copts are forced to rely on their Church leadership. But needing the Pope to interfere highlights and ingrains still more the idea that Copts do not have individual agency in defending their rights at the national level. The increase in attacks on Copts and churches and the way in which sectarian incidents were covered by the media points to the size and complexity of the challenges that Egypt faces. Alongside the struggle to be heard by the state is the struggle against institutionalized and ingrained inequalities that make Copts a target vulnerable to criticism, to biased media coverage and to attacks on their places of worship, their protests and protesters. In the week leading up to 9 October, there was criticism of Coptic protests from wider society and Islamist groups. These reactions led to a series of discussions on Egyptian television, including by the prominent thinker and writer Alaa al-Aswany6 and journalist Ibrahim Issa.7 Both of these commentators were strikingly bold in the assessment of the situation. Al-Aswany identified Salafism as the cause and highlighted what he called Salafi attempts to take advantage of social and political chaos to manoeuvre themselves and their ideology into power. He suggested two scenarios to explain the dramatic increase in attacks on churches since February 2011 and the lack of proper investigations or arrests. The first is that the SCAF are pro-Salafi and the second is that the SCAF permits them to instigate violence and release statements that are prejudiced against Christians and Christianity to boost the argument that SCAF rule is essential to keep order. Issa took a similar position and rejected what he referred to as the attempts to find fault with the Coptic protests so that blame can be placed on both Muslims and Christians and not just on the Muslims who attacked the churches. These were bold statements that explicitly criticized the approach of avoiding blaming one side and avoiding coupling sectarian attacks with religion unless done in a universal sense. This suggested the potential for change in the post-revolution mediascape. The boundaries of discourse expanded, enabling both state media’s direct incitement against Copts during the Maspero crisis and also the ability of al-Aswany and Ibrahim to criticize approaches, including that of the government, to the sectarian problem.

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Despite the accompanying opening up of the communicative space for counter-narratives challenging those of the state, there was an indication of a growing sense of vulnerability and frustration among Copts. There was a notable increase in comments by Copts on social media and in personal communications, asking why the Pope had not spoken out for their rights and expressing deep disappointment that Copts were still unable to gain full acceptance as Egyptian citizens after the revolution. Many felt forced once more to look to the Church for support after failing to find it in Egyptian society and government. In the past the Copts would have taken their grievances to the Church first. Pope Shenouda warned Coptic protesters in May and asked them to end public demonstrations. Significantly, Copts did not follow the Pope’s instructions and upheld their right to protest. Yet the growth of political activism among Copts has left them vulnerable to further physical and verbal attacks. On the same day as the Maspero attack, large crowds of mourners attended the funeral of the man convicted and executed for the shooting outside a church in Naga’ Hamadi in 2010 and, shortly before, I was informed in personal communications that two Coptic businessmen had received death threats from Islamists.8 Earlier Coptic demonstrations were attacked by thugs and an earlier protest against the destruction of the Aswan church was aggressively dispersed on 5 October. The culmination of the difficulties facing Copts in ensuring that their grievances are accepted as part of the national transition or in securing themselves and their places of worship was seen in the Maspero attack and its outcomes.

Constructing citizenship and the civil state: prospects and challenges Failure to address sectarian violence feeds the fears of instability and lack of security. This will limit any potential of the uprising to transform the culture of citizenship because the established patterns constructed under Mubarak will reassert themselves. One of the pillars that kept Mubarak’s rule stable for so long was the widespread narrative that this was the only alternative to the potential rise to power of the Muslim Brotherhood. This was also the position of Pope Shenouda and can explain his staunch support for Mubarak. This cooperation did not produce a drive for a secular state or promote the separation between state and religion. In fact, the behaviour of the Church leadership in undertaking this relationship with the state mimics much of the millet system whereby religious leaders have authority over, and are the representatives of, their community. This system was formalized during the Ottoman period and it divided society and its governance on the basis of religious denomination. The spiritual head of a denomination acted as the community leader. While this relationship may have helped to mute inter-communal violence, it also enabled the state and Egyptian society to ignore the need to address inequalities and to decide what the status of non-Muslim Egyptians should be.

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This sensitive debate was overlooked by the state, which chose to focus on marketing national unity and citizenship discourses rather than actualizing them. At the same time the rationale behind the cooperation of the Coptic Church with the state was that this was the best path to ensure that nonMuslims were not reduced to dhimma under an Islamic system of government. The word dhimma refers to a contract which formed the basis between non-Muslim subjects of Muslim countries and the government. This was a protected status offered in return for paying a tax known as the jizya. In Egypt the Copts’ status as dhimmi effectively came to an end in 1855 during the reign of Sai’d Pasha (Ibrahim, 2011: 20). Sai’d abolished jizya and his successor Ismail publicly declared that Copts were equal members in the nation and permitted Copts to run for political office (Tagher, 1998: 206). Yet the fear that the state could shift its position in favour of an Islamist system that would reintroduce this system was ever present. Ibrahim records the fears voiced by the Coptic-owned newspaper Misr in the early twentieth century. In some articles, ‘the authorities were painted as having leant [sic] their tacit support to the promotion of an Islamic agenda’ (Ibrahim, 2011: 88–89). In others, the newspaper reported that the Muslim Brotherhood had called for Copts to ‘choose between Islam, the sword or the jizya tax’ (ibid.: 89). These fears seem to have remained as they came through very clearly in the answers to my questionnaires distributed among Copts in 2007 and 2008. They were also part of the background of fears and concerns that I observed through participant-observation through social media channels during the protest period in January and February 2011. These fears about the status of Copts vis-à-vis the state and the security of their status in society is evident in the perennial debate concerning Article 2 of the Egyptian constitution. Article 2 remains a point of contention and debates about whether it should be preserved or abolished arose almost immediately after 11 February, particularly with reference to the debate of amendments to the constitution that were subject to a referendum on 19 March 2011. Article 2 continues to represent a red line for many Egyptians but is a reminder for secularists and Copts that Egypt differentiates between its citizens on the basis of religion and prevents the full establishment of what, in their view, a civil state means. Clearly, the debates within the Coptic community concerning the character of Egyptian national identity and the Church–state relationship exist alongside a broader struggle over the appropriate role of religion in state instructions. In this sense, the ‘Coptic issue’ taps into some of the core concerns that led to the 25 January revolution and underlie the discussions on how the new Egypt should look and behave. Perhaps one of the most important is the question of creating a civil state in Egypt, what this means and what are its main characteristics. Under Mubarak, politics was polarized into Islamism and an NDP version of secularism. The existence of these two discourses, the first represented by the Muslim Brotherhood and the latter by the NDP, shut many Egyptians out of politics. However, this distinction did not prevent the

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Muslim Brotherhood evolving to work within the system of the state rather than calling for its destruction as they adopted a modern discourse of rights and democracy. Neither did the polarization preclude Mubarak’s government from using religion as a source of legitimacy (Scott, 2010: 52). As the Muslim Brotherhood shifted towards narratives of democracy and the civil state, so Mubarak shifted his language to favour describing Egypt as a civil democratic state rather than secular. However, this did not necessarily signify a convergence of visions of what a civil state looks like. This confusion is reflected in broader attitudes to the meaning of civil state and secularism which have been exploited by Islamist movements to suggest that Egyptians must choose between Islam or a liberal secular state. During the campaign that preceded the referendum on the constitutional amendments in March 2011, Salafi Sheikh Hazem Shoman told an audience that a civil state means ‘Your mother doesn’t wear a hejab’ and that Mohamed ElBaradei’s liberalism means ‘his daughter marrying an infidel Christian’.9 While Salafi activists espousing these ideas may be a minority, these emotive appeals do connect with real fears about preserving the place of Islam in Egypt’s future. This tendency to set up secularism as the antithesis of Islam often complicates Coptic participation in politics. Since 25 January Copts have held a series of demonstrations calling for a secular state. One protester quoted in al-Masry al-Youm clearly indicates what she understands by the term ‘civil state’, ‘We sacrificed our souls for the sake of Egypt, and our aim was a civil state not a religious one. I came here to ask for equality, the constitution has to be changed and article 2 removed’ (Osman, 20 February 2011). From her perspective a civil state cannot exist while Article 2 of the constitution is still in place and the overriding principle for her is equality. Similarly, Emad al-Aryan, spokesman of the Coptic protest movement known as Maspero Youth, has said that their fundamental demand was equality between Muslims and Christians (Shoki, 16 October 2011). Yet for others, both Muslims and Christians, a civil state is a democratic state that has reference to religious principles and even implements religious laws. For Islamist streams that have adopted the discourse of the civil state, this does not presuppose an acceptance of the separation of religion and the state. Rather, a civil state is one that respects all religions in accordance with the teachings of Islam (Scott, 2010: 58). Likewise, the concept of citizenship does not represent one single fixed idea and this presents difficulties when questions concerning the status of non-Muslims and ensuring equality regardless of religion are raised. Scott questions whether secularism is a prerequisite for tolerance but perhaps the question here is whether simple tolerance is really the ideal to aim for. The issue is less that religion is part of the reference of the state but that one religion alone is prioritized. Where there is an official state religion, this religion inevitably becomes a symbolic element of national identity or contributes to a discourse of national belonging. McCallum (2009) has highlighted how Syrian Christians have a sense of pride that Syria, unlike the

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most Muslim majority countries, does not have legislation to establish Islam as the official religion of the state. They use this to illustrate the positive conditions experienced by Christians in Syria and it seems to form an essential discourse of belonging for Syrian Christians. It also forms the basis of their loyalty to the government. According to personal communications during the violent protests in Syria in 2011, there was fear among Christians about the consequences for their status in society in the absence of the Bashar al-Assad government. They feared instability and a takeover by an Islamist government that would undermine their status in Syrian society. In an interview with Russia Today TV, the Greek Orthodox patriarch of Antioch, Ignatius IV, said that, ‘if President Basher left, our situation in Syria will be unguaranteed’.10 Similar anecdotal evidence from personal communications during Egypt’s revolt revealed that, although Copts did not necessarily feel protected by Mubarak’s regime, they did fear the implementation of a more conservative Islamist regime and the prospect of the broader implementation of Islamic law. This points to one of the reasons why Pope Shenouda did not challenge the role of Islam in political life and legislation since returning from internal exile in 1985. It is likely that this was a strategy to reduce the occurrence of sectarian violence after his experience with Sadat during the 1970s and early 1980s. It also suggests that he did not necessarily seek a secular society as a priority, but rather a society in which individuals are protected and ruled according to their religious laws and values. This ensures that the Church retains its position of authority with Copts and that Copts remain an integral part of Egyptian society, though at the same time represent a definable and protected people. Several days after the Maspero violence, officials from the government and SCAF paid visits to Pope Shenouda to offer condolences and to negotiate the text of a new unified law on building places of worship. For many Copts, obtaining this unified law became symbolic of the broader struggle to feel that they are full citizens in equal measure with Muslims. Yet a unified law was refused by Shenouda and the Council of Islamic Research. Both preferred to have a separate law for Muslims and Christians and to maintain a quasi-millet system in which citizens are governed by different laws according to their religion (al-Masry al-Youm, 16 October 2011). Having a unified law would limit the Church’s influence in the area of church-building. This is consistent with Shenouda’s previous suggestion not to remove Article 2 but to amend it by adding a sentence that states ‘and people of the book are judged according to their laws’. This would fix the Church’s authority over Coptic personal law in the constitution. In al-Ahram, Sheikh Dr Salem Abd al-Galil stated that this unified law is not something that any Islamic society can accept (Khalifa, 13 May 2011). He did not deny Copts the right to have a fairer law governing the building of churches but believes that there cannot be the same law governing both churches and mosques. In other words, in this matter Muslims and

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non-Muslims do not have the same laws but they can have equivalent laws based on the Islamic Sharia principle of equivalence or ontological equality in which equality does not require identical treatment (cf. Amanat and Griffel, 2007). From this perspective, for non-Muslims to live in Muslim territory as citizens does not require the application of the same laws to both Muslims and non-Muslims. Islamic scholars point to the tolerance by Islam of non-Muslim communities living in Islamic territories as represented by the provisions for each community to be governed in their personal and religious affairs by the head of their denomination. According to Walzer’s imperial regime of toleration, of which he describes the millet system as being one version, this model promotes official toleration for the sake of peace and, while autonomy is given to groups, it also locks ‘individuals into their communities’ and ingrains their authority structures and norms (1997: 16). In order to maintain autonomy the group itself enforces cohesiveness and this squeezes out neutral spaces, which describes some of the practices observed in Coptic media spaces. Scott also notes the communal nature of frameworks of tolerances based on the millet system and concept of dhimma. Under the dhimma principle, tolerance is granted to a community not to an individual based on religious belonging. Rights are obtained as Muslims, or as Copts but not personal rights as human beings. She argues that ‘there was no concept of an individual’s direct relationship with the state. Certainly it was not believed that a relationship to a particular geographical area brought rights (2010: 124). The fear for both the Church and some Copts is the loss of the strength of Coptic authority and identity that could not be obtained on an individual basis. This reflects a change because in 1922 Coptic politicians believed that the liberal parliamentary democracy they were trying to establish would render special provisions guaranteeing Coptic representation and individual Coptic agency unnecessary. Scott (2010) gives an excellent summary of Egyptian Islamist thought concerning citizenship and dhimma, though her main emphasis is on the Wasatiyah stream, a relatively moderate group that emerged out of the Muslim Brotherhood and established a political party after the uprising called al-Wasat Party. She explains that the terms ‘citizenship’ and ‘civil state’ have been adopted by most mainstream groups, including the Muslim Brotherhood but, as she indicates, the interpretation of these terms is not uniform. While many Copts fear dhimma as a system that would institutionalize them as second-class citizens, for Islamists, dhimma in an Islamic state means tolerance and pluralism (ibid.: 94). The Wasatiyah Islamists have adopted the term ‘citizenship’ but they still argue that ‘Islam is a superior system and the best way to guarantee the rights of Christians’ (ibid.: 126). Consequently, the Wasatiyah stream and other Islamists accept the importance of the nation state but do not see any contradiction in an Islamic political framework safeguarding the rights of non-Muslims. In fact they argue that Islam and not secularism is the best guarantee of Coptic

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citizenship rights. This perspective is reflected in other Islamic circles as well. On the Egyptian official state TV website, Ali Goma’a, Egypt’s Grand Mufti, condemned any calls to change or cancel the second article of the constitution in order ‘to guard citizenship’ because according to him Islamic Sharia has its own definition of citizenship that should not be breached (Yusef, 16 March 2011). On the other hand, for Boutiveau (1998: 116–26), implementing Islamic law as a ‘meta-law’ is a major cause of what he calls imperfect citizenship. For him, the field of law is pivotal because, ‘Both law, and above all justice, in which real conflicts are expressed and resolved, are the areas in which social truth is affirmed’. This legal culture therefore has an impact on the social and legal status of non-Muslim Egyptians and disputes over the issue contribute to the politicization of sectarian divisions (Nasr, 2006: 161). It is in this context that the state and the Church made efforts to promote the language of equal citizenship while at the same time the government failed to amend laws that discriminate on the basis of religion and the Church refused to implement legal rulings made by Egyptian courts. Contradictions in the legal and political system are reflected in media discourses, which promote narratives of national unity and citizenship, while at the same time differentiating between Christians and Muslims in their speech. Blackledge (2005: 5) identifies how discourses, like those in Egyptian media concerning national unity and citizenship, ostensibly seem to promote justice, yet their language also undermines the explicit message of a media text. Blackledge also underlines language as social practice. Thus, if public institutions such as the law are not neutral in their treatment of citizens on the basis of religion, it is unrealistic to expect that public space and the media discourses that emerge from this space will be neutral in terms of religion. On this point the respondents to the questionnaires were asked to explain how they experience media representation and to give examples. Many of the respondents to the Coptic surveys who explained why they believe their portrayal is negative, indicated that they feel their faith is the reason for the negative or non-representation and also the reason why the state does not protect or represent them: Egyptian Copts are persecuted by Muslims and none of the officials speak out. (Male, Egypt) They use these media channels just to incite terrorists against Copts. (Male, Egypt) Egyptian media is mainly Muslim run. (Female, USA) This sense of exclusion on the basis of religious identity is reinforced in media debates over the Coptic question because it revolves around the issue of whether Copts have the same rights and status in the nation as Muslim Egyptians, or whether they are persecuted and excluded on the grounds of their religious faith. This is also reinforced from within the community.

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The Muslim Brotherhood reject the idea of a Christian president but Pope Shenouda argued that he rejects the idea of a Coptic president (al-Jazeera, 30 July 2009). He argued that, since Egypt is a Muslim majority country, a Christian cannot represent Egypt. This view uses the same argument as the Brotherhood and serves to reinforce an understanding of a political system as inseparable from religious belonging and demonstrates that the dilemma faced by Coptic politicians under the Wafd party remains a barrier to Christian political participation. Pope Shenouda’s opinion was not completely unchallenged on this point. The Christian who had declared his intention to run as presidential candidate, Mamdouh Ramzi, rejected Shenouda’s statements on this political matter (Akhbar al-Alam, 17 October 2009). However, Shenouda’s speech was influential and served to normalize this ideology of confusion between national political loyalty and religious belonging, which undermines the potential of citizenship narratives to transform. Although it may appear to be more authentic, constructing a form of citizenship that is defined and protected by Islam differs from the concept of al-Mowatana that many activists adopted prior to 2011. It would also act as a barrier to the potential inclusivity of citizenship narratives. This not only applies to non-Muslims but also to Muslims, because Islamic teachings on the state will be tied to one interpretation and so cannot be representative of all streams of Islamic thought. Sufis and Shias in Egypt have been visible protesters against the conservative Sunni groups because they fear for their status should Islamists succeed in gaining power. To illustrate the point of barriers to political participation, we can look back to the national movement prior to 1919. The national resistance to the British protectorate was at first led by Mustafa Kamal and had an Islamic focus and language. Consequently, Copts did not give this movement their full support as shown in Coptic newspapers at the time. Later, Sa’ad Zaghloul’s movement became a more nationalist project, resting on Egyptian nationalism first and foremost, as embodied in the Pharoahism and Egyptianism movements. This enabled Christians to play a fuller and more active role in the resistance which culminated in the 1919 revolution (el-Feki, 1991: 65, 74). Although some of the thinkers of the Wasatiyah stream, including the Christian, Rafik Habib, who was appointed in July 2011 as deputy chairman of the Freedom and Justice party, argue that Egypt’s Islamic culture was shaped by both Muslims and Christians and is therefore not exclusive, the implication of discourses presented by al-Banna and many others who took part in the debates on Article 2, is that Islam is synonymous with Egyptian national identity. This is difficult to accept for those Copts who firmly tie their religious faith to belonging to the territory and heritage of Egypt. As Labib wrote, Copticness should not be limited to a communal label because Coptic heritage is part of Egyptian heritage (Labib, 18 March 2008). Akin to the national unity discourse, these representations once again bring religion into the discussion of al-Mowatana, so that citizens are still

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categorized as different on the basis of religion. The consequences of making Islam the protector of citizenship and equating it with national identity are seen in comments in Coptic media that reveal a sense that the state is the authority for the Muslims and the Church for the Christians. This creates difficulties for maintaining the coherence of a nation state. As Billig points out, ‘The battle for nationhood is a battle for hegemony, by which a part claims to speak for the whole nation and to represent the national essence’ (1995: 27). In Egypt, the designation of one religion as the official religion and the laws of one religion as the main source of legislation means that the nation is in danger of representing the essence of the majority as the national essence. This dynamic is also reflected in narratives that seek to promote national unity by, for example, publishing congratulatory messages during Coptic festivals to ‘our’ Coptic brothers (National Democratic Party in Matrouh, 17 March 2010; National Democratic Party, 3 April 2010; Nilesat, 5 April 2010; Sadeq, 5 April 2010). If Copts are ‘our’ they are different to the ‘us’ of the state, on the basis of religion. In an issue of al-Masry al-Youm, which ran a series of articles under the umbrella of national unity, one article talks about the story of Hanan, a young Coptic girl who went missing and was looked after by a Muslim family. The article claims that Hanan has, ‘done what seminars and conferences have not been able to do and that is to answer claims about the persecution of Copts and confirmed that Egyptians are one group whether Muslim or Christian’. The Muslim family looked after the girl on the principle of al deen lillah (religion is for God), so despite being of a different religion, the family is presented as tolerant enough to look after the child (Kamal, 14 February 2008). The beginnings of an awareness concerning the implications and the impact of this kind of language, that attempts to demonstrate tolerance while pointing to difference, was indicated in an article in al-Masry al-Youm (Abdul Mageed, 30 July 2010). The author criticized the use of the term ‘our Coptic brothers’ and especially the way the state used it to imply that by default the Egyptian nation, its institutions and representatives are only Muslim. Separation in the national media and turning inwards to a particularistic media approach both disenfranchises Copts from the general public space and maintains a boundary based on religious difference which serves to further normalize ideology through discursive reproduction (Horner, 2007: 13). This is inevitable where there is no neutral public sphere and where the marginalized group is indigenous and thus has no external homeland towards which they can orient their aspirations or ideas of belonging. This sense seemed to be confirmed by my survey of Coptic Internet users, which showed that 52.2 per cent feel that the media’s reporting of sectarian incidents is biased against Christians. Whether it is objectively true that Copts are maligned in the press or not, it is evident that Copts feel generally misrepresented by their national press and that the media has been unable to reach a consensus on the meaning of national identity.

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It is also struggling to present Egyptianness without a basis in narratives using references to religion. The problem does not necessarily lie in not in mentioning religious difference but rather in making this the basis for social structures and national institutions. One result has been the retreat into the Church sphere. While it may offer protection, retreating to an alternative sphere does not encourage integration or a shared national culture. This is demonstrated by the failure of the national unity discourse to promote a sense of equal belonging to the Egyptian nation and by the limited participation of Copts in media and the public sphere as Egyptian citizens rather than as a Coptic bloc. Whether the al-Mowatana discourse has the potential to be transformed into social practice with the capacity to move Egypt towards a more Republican model, where belonging is based on ascription to universal equality and neutral institutions, is not yet clear. But, as Habermas (2005: xv) argues, it is vital that minorities in pluralistic societies have the ability, within the constitutional framework, to dissent from the values of the majority. He makes the distinction between shared political culture and diverse subcultures. This enables the diversity of cultural contributions to be recognized and valued, without privileging one element in the shared political culture.

Prospects for citizenship and Coptic inclusion beyond the transition This lack of separation between national culture and the identity of the state political system accounts for the perspectives that suggest that equal inclusion without reference to religion will displace the prominent role of Islam in Egyptian society. This has put the potential of the al-Mowatana discourse to transform the public sphere in jeopardy, particularly since the uprising. Although al-Mowatana had been adopted by activists, particularly from the secularist, liberal and leftist camps, as a discourse for consolidating a state based on equality, human rights and national unity, it has been less visible in media and political communication since the uprising. Prior to 25 January, Mohamed ElBaradei employed the term al-Mowatana in his campaign for change and reform. He used it to promote inclusion of all, not just religious groups but also women and the Nubian minority (al-Galad and Badawy, 2 April 2011). Yet in his draft document addressing supra-constitutional principles and the shape of Egypt post-transition, while he included Article 2 of the constitution, he omitted Article 1. This is the article which states that ‘The Arab Republic of Egypt is a state with a democratic system that is based on al-Mowatana’ (Abu Hatab, 26 June 2011). He refered to the rights of the citizen but omitted the al-Mowatana expression, which as a term was coined by the legalists of Mubarak’s regime in order to enhance his image as a defender of rights. The expression was heavily used by NDP members and particularly Mubarak himself and his son Gamal, the chairman of the ruling party, and was included in the amended articles of the

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constitutions proposed by Mubarak in 2006. Therefore, this expression was attached to the former regime’s programme of alleged reformation. The question of citizenship and the civil state has been highlighted by some Islamist groups as an attempt to erase the Islamic identity of the state. This indicates that, as well as its association with Mubarak, the principle of al-Mowatana has also been associated with secularists or people who are ‘anti-religion’. This argument was evident in the referendum campaigns of both the Muslim Brotherhood and Salafist groups who claimed that voting ‘yes’ was a religious duty. Leaflets distributed by Islamists in Cairo before the referendum read: A statement to the Islamic Nation Your enemies are watching you and want to destroy you by erasing your religion and the law of your lord by cancelling the constitution in order to abolish the second article in the constitution, or to set out a new constitution against the religion of Allah. They want a civil state-which means non religious – by detaching the religion from the state in order to legalize having a non-Muslim president (al-Hofy, 16 March 2011). Moreover, in the wake of the political upheaval, the principle of alMowatana has been judged by some as an issue for the Copts and other groups as one of their specific demands rather than being a national demand despite resistance to this among Copts. In a press conference held by the Maspero Youth Union in May 2011, the group emphasized that its demands are not factional but are the demands of the people (al-Nubi, 9 May 2011). However, a process was brought into play by which the principle of alMowatana was undermined by constructing it as irrelevant to the national project of transition. Instead it has been included under the term matalib fi’awiya, factional demands, as one that is specifically called for by Copts. The term was coined during an escalation of attempts to undermine any specific demands before those demands deemed to have public consensus, such as democratic transition, were achieved. Editor-in-chief of al-Masry al-Youm wrote that Copts have the right to call for citizenship rights and that all Egyptians should defend this right but that the period of transition is not the appropriate time (al-Galad, 9 March 2011). This perhaps explains the negative attitudes towards the Coptic protests that were apparent in the period leading up to 9 October 2011. Coptic protests for justice and protection after the series of attacks on churches were viewed by some as selfish and sectarian and potentially disruptive of any Egyptian political reform process. On social media and in readers’ comments on news articles covering the Coptic protests a sense of frustration was expressed by some that the Copts should be protesting in front of public buildings and closing down public roads for issues seen as particular to Copts and not to the Egyptian nation

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as a whole. Since the 2011 uprising, protests have been formed around issues, such as when to draft a new constitution, and around specific groups, including teachers, bus drivers and doctors. But these did not receive the same degree of condemnation as the protests by Copts against attacks on churches. This suggests that, for some Egyptians, sectarian violence is seen as a ‘Coptic problem’ and not part of the protests that seek to shape Egypt’s transition. The Coptic protests also led to the classic accusation that they are seeking help from the West and the Coptic diaspora. The al-Jama’a al-Islamiya released a statement on 6 October 2011, in which they criticized Copts for ‘repeatedly fabricating events, undertaking protests and strikes and trying to create an illusion that there is sectarianism and persecution of Copts at this sensitive time in order to seek outside interference and obtain undeserved rights’ (Ramadan, 6 October 2011). These developments suggest that the term al-Mowatana will struggle to represent the unifying discourse that it had previously seemed to have the potential to offer. If al-Mowatana is constructed as a Coptic demand and Coptic demands are not considered to be an issue for the nation this affirms that Coptic concerns and the sectarian problem will continue to be viewed as separate, requiring separate representation and separate solutions. This is the opposite scenario of al-Mowatana that Coptic activists such as the Maspero Union and some of those writing for Roz al-Yusef and Watani, such as Yusef Sidhom, Hany Labib and Kamal Zakher, as well as movements like MARED, saw as a potential framework for a culture of full integration regardless of religion, gender or ethnicity. Like the term ‘civil state’, even if the citizenship discourse remains, its interpretation is likely to evolve from the almost entirely secular usage adopted by Coptic and secular activists before 2011, to denote an Islamic-inspired form of citizenship that ensures Islam is prioritized in any new formations of the political and legal systems. The difficulty with this approach is in seeking to employ a homogenous conception of Egyptian national identity even though Egypt is not a homogenous state. Islam is the religion of the majority and a major part of Egyptian heritage and culture and so to secure its place it is not necessary to exclude other elements of the Egyptian identity through institutionalizing it in the political and legal structures. The exclusion of Copts on the basis of religion from the national public sphere creates a climate in which Copts not only perceive their disenfranchisement from public national culture and media, but also in which official media have been utilized to incite violence against them. The result is unresolved social tensions, expressed as sectarianism, that leave Egypt vulnerable to outbreaks of violence and social instability. It also gives those already established in power the opportunity to use the fear of instability and insecurity to resist change and limit the transformative potential of the uprising.

Conclusion

Using media as a mechanism, this book has analysed how notions of identity and belonging operate and has explored the discourses that contribute to their construction. It has also focused on the dynamics of constructions of belonging among Copts, who are at once a national, religious and transnational identity group and who are, at times, also constructed as an ethnic group seen as distinctly separate from Arab ethnicity. The debates and discourses circulated among Copts reflect and intertwine with discourses at the national level in Egypt, and even beyond, into a global universal flow of relations, as a result of a growing and active Coptic diaspora. The upheaval that resulted from the 25 January uprising has inevitably added a further layer of complexity to discourses of Copticness and questions of belonging. The early chapters of this book discussed the nature of the relationship between the Church and the state during the Shenouda–Mubarak era. With the exit of Mubarak, no substantial changes were made to strategies employed by the Church in its relationship with the state. This suggests that the Church is unlikely to seek to change the pattern of Churchstate relations with any future government unless it is forced to do so as the only way to preserve its position. Historically, the Coptic Church has represented Copts in Egyptian society and the patriarchs who preceded Pope Shenouda III pursued a general policy of cooperation with the state. The transfer of the papacy after Shenouda will usher in a period of uncertainty for the Coptic Church, but there are no indications that the next Pope will pursue a substantially different strategy with the state, as long as any new executive power does not reduce the Church’s autonomy. The patterns of relations between Church and state and Church and Copts have been far more affected by the strength of individual Coptic participation in public life. When Coptic representation in the media and politics was stronger in the early twentieth century, the Church did not act as the only alternative for affirming belonging and political aspirations, nor did it provide the only space for expression and action. Therefore it is the emergence of a newly assertive movement among Copts that is more likely to effect change on the habitus underlying the position

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of Copts vis-à-vis the Church and the state and also discourses of Coptic belonging. After Omraneya in 2010, and even more so since the uprising, Coptic activists became more visible and tried to pursue an agenda directly with the state rather than through the Church. Although they are small, the formation of groups such as The Right to Live Movement and Maspero Youth Union are manifestations of a new attempt to address Coptic issues as national issues. Resistance therefore takes place in the public sphere. The transformation of the Maspero area, and particularly the area outside the state broadcasting building, into a focal point for Coptic protests is symbolic of the aspiration to make Coptic voices heard at the levels of the state and Egyptian public space. This attempt to redress exclusion became more urgent in the wake of the increase in attacks on churches after February 2011 and, in particular, the violence at Imbaba and Maspero. The coverage of these incidents in official media suggests a trend towards more direct criticism of Copts and even incitement against Copts as seen during the coverage by state television of the Maspero protests in October. On the other hand, the criticism of state media coverage and of the SCAF’s role that was found in independent media and social media points to a general opening up in media spaces and expansions in boundaries of media content. Egypt’s mediascape has clearly been altered by the upheaval. While the state’s strategy of employing official media is still entrenched, the efforts of the Egyptian public, and in particular social media activists, to disseminate videos and testimonies from eyewitnesses to refute the official account of events is illustrative of the role that electronic media has carved out for itself since the uprising. Although the public Coptic demonstrations suggest an increased availability of ways to resist and call for Coptic rights, the fundamental social and political challenges that contribute to sectarian tensions are yet to be seriously addressed as Egypt struggles to maintain political and economic stability. Between 2006 and 2010, al-Mowatana was used as a framework for promoting a culture of equal citizenship without reference to religion, gender or ethnicity and was promoted by various activists and blocs including the state and the Church. Although it is not certain that Mubarak’s government intended to actualize this concept or that it represented anything more than convenient jargon or window dressing for the NDP’s image, it did represent a useful narrative that was taken up by activists and media and represented a framework for constructive discourse transformation (Reich 2003: 5). Editor-in-chief of Watani, Yusef Sidhom, was one of the advocates of al-Mowatana as a mechanism for encouraging Coptic participation in public life as Egyptians. He believes that it should be the objective for Coptic media. The prospects of the al-Mowatana discourse were weakened in the wake of the uprising, not only because of its association with Mubarak and the NDP, but also because of an emerging narrative that undermines equal

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citizenship demands as a factional rather than national demand. In analysing media discourses concerning this matter it is therefore important to recognize that the same terms are used differently by different streams and interpreted differently by different audiences. Constructing citizenship rights as a Coptic demand undermines the potential of al-Mowatana to act as a framework or principle in the constitution and formation of a civil state that would categorize Egyptians as simply citizens without reference to religion. Marking al-Mowatana as a Coptic issue also continues the pattern of avoidance in addressing what equality means at the national level in Egypt between citizens of different religious faiths. This is encouraged by the tendency of the Church to act as a separate space for Copts and Coptic media to act as separate platform for Coptic concerns. Throughout Egypt’s modern history Copts have tried to construct Coptic issues as national issues, as seen in the press in the early twentieth century. The growth of Coptic media spaces could be counter-productive to national dialogue and participation in the conversation about Egypt’s transition if they continue with this established pattern. Rather than creating new Coptic channels, the focus should be on the content of existing media spaces so that they become platforms to support Copts but are at the same time outward looking in order to launch Copts confidently into the public space and national debates. The potential of media to act as a space for public engagement with national life was demonstrated after the Maspero attack. Facebook groups were set up for the ‘Maspero Martyrs’, echoing the ‘We Are all Khalid Said’ Facebook group that was created after Said was killed after being arrested by police in 2009. One of the victims at Maspero was Mina Daniel who had been an activist involved in the 25 January protests, during which he had survived being shot in the leg. A Facebook group named ‘We are all Mina Daniel’ was quickly established. Between the morning of 12 October and the evening of 13 October, the number of the page’s members increased from 13,751 to 18,444. On 25 October it had 27,717 members. The parallels with Khalid Said were made explicit when images were uploaded depicting Said and Daniel together.1 Said is shown throwing out Mubarak and next to him Daniel is throwing out Tantawi. The Facebook group served as a point of solidarity among Egyptians against the SCAF rather than retreating into Muslim against Christian narratives. In a second image, Daniel and Said are shown together with the headline ‘We are all Egyptian’. When the mother of Khalid Said came to offer her condolences to Mina Daniel’s mother, these images were circulated across media channels, focusing on their experience as two Egyptian mothers, one losing her son to the police and the other to the army. Meanwhile, another Facebook group called ‘Jesus Love u’ initiated a campaign called I Love Muslims2 in an effort to prevent the Maspero events from provoking further sectarian violence. These initiatives and accompanying narratives point to the potential for Coptic demands to be united with national ones, to form a symbolic site

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for unity and to avoid separating causes through the narrative of matalib fi’awiya and also the importance of media in constructing and circulating them. The dynamics of Coptic belonging and representation, especially since the start of 2011, are certainly in a perpetual process of negotiation that is shaped, not only by factors within the sphere of the Coptic Church, but also within the space of national Egyptian society. The media is likely to continue to act as a significant communicative space for this process and it is certain that the future status of Copts is inextricably tied to how equality and citizenship are eventually interpreted and applied to all Egyptians.

Notes

1. The contemporary Coptic community: between the state and the Church 1

2. The Egyptian press in national political life 1 Zakher, K. (Egyptian thinker and spokesman of the Coptic Secular Movement), author interview, 2008. 2 Tadros, M., author interview, 2008. 3 Sidhom, Y. (Editor of Watani newspaper), author interview, 2008. 4 Awad, B., author interview, 2008. 5 Monir, M., author interview, 2008. 6 Ibid. 7 Awad, B., author interview, 2008. 8 Nagy, W. (Editor of Allam al-Mashaheer newspaper), author interview, Cairo, 21 November 2007. 9 Labib, H., author interview, 2008. 10 Habib, A. (journalist, al-Karma TV), author interview, Cairo, 19 February 2008; Tadros, M. (political scientist), author interview, Cairo, 7 February 2008. 11 Reporters without Borders, Egypt Report 2008, (accessed 17 September 2008). 12 Bahgat, H. (Director, Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights), author interview, Cairo, 1 April 2008. 13 Bahgat, H., author interview, 2008. 14 Zakher, K., author interview, Cairo, 23 March 2008; Tadros, M., author interview, 2008; Habib, A., author interview, 2008; Delwar, S. (Coptic activist), author interview, Cairo, 1 March 2008; Hamdy, E. (Professor of Sociology), author interview, Cairo, 2 December 2007; Sidhom, Y. (Editor of Watani newspaper), author interview, Cairo, 21 December 2007; Romany, M. (journalist Alam el-Mashaheer newspaper), author interview, Cairo, 20 November 2007; Labib, H. (writer and journalist), author interview, Cairo, 13 March 2008; Monir, M., author interview, 2008. 15 Habib, A., author interview, 2008. 16 Labib, H., author interview, 2008. 17 Zakher, K., author interview, 2008. 18 Tadros, M., author interview, 2008. 19 Labib, H., author interview, 2008. 20 Labib, H., author interview, 2008.

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3. Coptic online spaces: the impact of the Internet on Coptic politics 1 Open Net Initiative (2009) ‘Internet Filtering in Egypt’, online. Available (accessed 25 June 2011). 2 (accessed 7 February 2012). 3 (accessed 7 February 2012). 4 The Bible (Hosea 11:1). 5 Coptic Freethinkers (accessed 27 June 2010). 6 Tadros, M., author interview, 2008. 7 (accessed 11 March 2011). 8 (accessed 30 January 2012). 9 Tadros, M., author interview, 2008; Awad, B., author interview, 2008. 10 Bdou13 (YouTube user) uploaded 11 February 2011 (accessed August 2011). 4. The Coptic Orthodox Church as a media and political actor 1 al-Khawaga, D. (Egyptian academic), author interview, Cairo, 17 March 2008. 2 Monir, M. (Egyptian journalist and research), author interview, 2008. 3 Abbasiya is an area of Cairo where the Coptic Cathedral that forms the headquarters of the Coptic Orthodox Church is located. 4 The Bible (Isaiah 19:25). 5. Discoursing national belonging: national unity versus sectarianism 1 Bahgat, H., author interview, 1 April 2008. 2 Memoration here implies more than simply celebrating a memory or occasion. It also implies an active engagement with collective memory, reinforcing the importance of recalling it in the present. 3 Soliman, S., author interview, Cairo, 29 October 2007. 4 Author interviews, Sidhom,Y., 2007; Hamdy, E., 2007; Soliman, S., 2007; Zakher, K., 2008; Labib, H., 2008. 5 Sidhom, Y., author interview, 2007. 6 Zakher, author interview, 2008. 6. Resisting Church leadership through media: dissent and legitimacy 2005–10 1 2 3 4

Sidhom, Y., author interview, 2008. Zakher, K. and Habib, A., author interviews, 2008. Monir, M., author interview, 2008. al-Khawaga, D. (Egyptian academic who wrote her doctoral thesis on Coptic political participation), author interview, Cairo, 17 March 2008. 5 Monir, M., author interview, 2008. 6 Monir, M., author interview, 2008; the Holy Synod official statement of Bebawi’s excommunication (accessed March 2010). 7 ‘I do get E-mails from members of the Church threatening me and telling me How Dare You Speak? That is the result of 40 years of HHPS III leadership – we

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8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

19 20

Notes

created a generation of Zealots (Zombies) that are willing to kill for the Pope. Again, Lord Have Mercy on all of us.’ (accessed 5 April 2010). (accessed June 2009). (accessed June 2009). (accessed June 2009). Monir, M., author interview, 2010. This observation was from his interviews with reporters for these sites in Egypt in Rashid in 2009. Sallam, Y. (Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights), author interview, Cairo, 1 April 2008. Bahghat. H., author interview, 2008. US Copts Forum, (accessed 6 May 2009). US Copts Forum, (accessed 4 May 2009). Coptic Assembly Forum, (accessed 4 May 2009). US Copts Forum, (accessed 4 May 2009). In October 2007, the Coptic Assembly of America organized an international Coptic conference, aimed at discussing ways to modernize the Coptic movement and further unify and include the voice of the Copts inside and outside of Egypt. Similar conferences have been held by different groups, such as Copts United in Switzerland, within the Coptic diaspora to highlight Coptic issues. Coptic Assembly Forum, (accessed 27 March 2010). US Copts Association Forum, ‘As’ela “Adeeda le Qadaset al-Baba’, (accessed 13 September 2009).

7. Revolution and political crisis: shifting discourses and relations of power 1 (accessed 1 August 2011). 2 and 3 4 The Bible (Acts 23:5). 5 , uploaded 5 February 2011 (accessed June 2011). 6 Personal communication, C.H. Alexandria, 2 February 2011. 7 Personal communication, B.R. Assiut, 10 March 2011. 8 Facebook group ‘Egyptian Christian and Pope Shenouda does not Represent me Politically’ 9 ‘al-Baba Shenouda: la ahad Yelzimna bil Zawaj al-Thani wa min Y’amel thalik Tashalaho’ 10 ‘Ja’al Safhat al-Baba Shenouda Raqm 1 ‘ala al-Facebook’ 11 (accessed October 2011). 12 (accessed October 2011). 13 (accessed October 2011). 14 (accessed October 2011).

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15 (accessed October 2011). 8. Copts, sectarianism and citizenship in post-25 January Egypt 1 (accessed October 2011). 2 (accessed October 2011) and (accessed October 2011). 3 (accessed October 2011). 4 This is an interview with Husam Bahgat, the head of the Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights and an eyewitness. He says he was there and saw waves of people coming from Boulaq and Imbaba with swords to ‘protect the army from the Christians’ and October 9th – Akher Kalam show with Yusri Fouda, ON TV (accessed October 2011). 5 Hossam Bahgat discusses al-Akhbar front page (accessed October 2011). 6 (accessed October 2011); and (accessed October 2011). 7 ‘Ibrahim Issa Beyrod ‘ala Habl al-Muslimin fi Rad Fa’alhum Howl Tathahur al-Aqbat’ and (accessed October 2011). 8 Personal communication from M.T. 7 October 2011. 9 (accessed October 2011). 10 (accessed October 2011). Conclusion 1 (accessed October 2011); (accessed October 2011). 2 (accessed October 2011).

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