that form the only solid foundation for this peace. The flourishing real estate speculation, which profits from the capital’s reconstruction, will lead to the disappearance of its magnificent historical center—the Place des Canons and the Ottoman buildings close by, of which I, like all those who are familiar with them, have a fond memory. But the city, as ordinary as its so-called modern urbanization might become, remains fascinating. The cafe life, which I have always loved, is certainly one of the most pleasant manifestations of Lebanese sociability.
Greater Syria, from the Gulf of Aqaba and Petra to Aleppo, including the Roman circus in ancient Philippopolis, city of the Roman Emperor, Philip of Arabia—undoubtedly the best preserved of this type of edifice—Palmyra, the historical quarters of Damascus, Homs, Hama, Aleppo, and Lattakia, the Alawite mountains, the fortresses of Salah ad-Din and the Crusaders, overlooking the silk roads, is a beautiful country, both because of the richness and variety of its historical vestiges and because of its scenery.
This wealth recalls the decisive contribution of ancient and Byzantine civilizations to the grand Arab centuries that followed. It is not only that the Great Umayyad Mosque in Damascus is actually an ancient Byzantine cathedral (like Saint Sophia in Istanbul). Ruins of enormous cathedrals, abandoned in a now desert countryside, bear witness to the fact that the region was more densely populated with farmers (replaced today by shepherds) until the tenth century than it was subsequently. The ruins of Palmyra testify to the importance of trade along the Silk Road dating back to Antiquity. Consequently, it is easy to see influences from the East, from Iran and India, in the work of Syrian artisans.
Invited to a cultural week in Damascus, I was struck, but not surprised, by the uncompromising democratic and secular speeches of a large number of high-quality intellectuals. What is more, public speeches were given before audiences of young—students and workers—and not so young militants of diverse tendencies. These speeches would be unthinkable elsewhere in the Arab world, which would get your head cut off by Islamists and a conviction by state courts for an “offense against religion.” These are very good signs for the future.
On a different note, the lamentable spectacle, on offer several times, of Khalid Bakdash’s almost half-witted son—who apparently inherited the post of General Secretary of the Syrian Communist Party (or shares the responsibility with his mother, the widow)—should only, happily, be found amusing. No one in Syria today is disposed to take him seriously.
THE PREDICTED ARAB REVOLUTIONS
I owe much to the friends who worked with me in the activities that I am going to report on here.
In Egypt, as president of the Arab and African Research Centre, I led debates organized with a broad spectrum of social and political forces involved in the struggles underway. I shall mention here only the names of Helmy Shaarawi, First Vice President of the Centre, Shahida el Baz, Mostafa Gamal, and Mamdouh Habashi. Ahmad el Naggar’s contribution is mentioned in the section “Egypt: Immediate Responses.” I can do no more than mention the names of several political men and women with whom I held conversations that are reflected in these memoirs: Hamdin Sabahi, Samir Morqos, Mona Anis, Amal Ramsis, Saad el Tawil (my frequent translator), and Magda Refaa. I am a member of the Egyptian Socialist Party. Some of my comrades are members of the other radical socialist left party and I do not view them as enemies or competitors, but as comrades equal in rights with the others. I have already expressed my opinion on this question of unity and diversity in the movement toward socialism and will not return to that here. I must also thank Madame Fatma El Boudi, editorial director of Dar el Ain in Cairo, who unhesistatingly supervised publication over the last three years of four works that I produced very quickly in the midst of the “revolution” then underway.
The decade of 2000–2010 seemed to all of us to be an endless time of darkness. One evening, some of us had imagined a sketch of Egyptian-style black humor, a television program from the year 2500. The announcer presented the latest news about the Islamic Republic of Great Britain and the United Socialist States of North America before coming to Egypt. She then mentioned President Mubarak VI’s opening of the 800th construction stage of bridges over the Nile. We were wrong. The same year, Amal Ramsis produced her documentary, which ended with the sentence: “The revolution is tomorrow.” She was right. I should add that I sensed the change to come. There were long evening discussions at the “center,” the Markaz, of which I am the president. While in the 1990s, attendance was made up mostly of older people, beginning in the 2000s, we began to see many young people (25 to 35 years old) in attendance—for whom the Nasser era belonged to Pharaonic antiquity—eager to know and understand, to come and question us. I recognized some of them as leaders in the youth movements that “made the revolution,” as they say. Whether or not it is a revolution is not the question. An inscription found on walls in Cairo—“The revolution has not changed the system, but it has changed the people”—perfectly captures the transformation of the country, conducive to possible progress in the end.
In Algeria, we—the Third World Forum networks—benefited from exemplary political and financial support without which I do not know how we would have been able to organize the roundtables we arranged for the World Social Forums in Dakar (2011) and Tunis (2013), and to prepare for Tunis 2015. Most observers considered these round tables to be of great interest. Here I would like to thank the Algerian Minister of Foreign Affairs, the Algerian ambassador at Dakar, Mr. Abderrahmane Benguerrah, and Madame Khalida Toumi, Minister of Culture. The list of our collaborators in Algiers is too long to recall here. It begins with our major correspondents, Samia Zennadi and Karim Chikh (Éditions Apic), with whom I acknowledge my warm personal friendship here.
The Arab world entered into a period of turbulence beginning in 2011, which was a bit too quickly called the “Arab Spring.” I refer the reader to my book on these “revolutions.”18 The strategic objective of the imperialist powers is to destroy the very existence of the state in the countries of the region because they could, with the possible radicalization of popular movements, threaten the established regional and world order. The support given by these powers (the United States, followed by Europe) to reactionary political Islam is the means to obtain this result. The programmed destruction of the Iraqi state begun in 2003, and the decomposition of “post-Gaddafi” Libya are tragic examples. In Sudan, the bloody dictatorships of Gaafar Nimeiry, who became “crazy over God,” and his successor, Omar al-Bashir, as well as the systematization of crime “in the name of religion” (!) by Turabi, produced what should have been predicted and feared: the breakup of the country, the independence of the south, and separatism in Darfur and the east.
Egypt: Aborted Emergence
Egypt was the first country in the periphery of globalized capitalism that attempted to “emerge.” At the beginning of the nineteenth century, well before Japan and China, Muhammad Ali had designed and implemented a renovation project for Egypt and its immediate neighbors in the Arab Mashreq. This wide-ranging experiment took place over the first two-thirds of the nineteenth century and only ran out of steam during the second half of the reign of Khedive Ismail in the 1870s. An analysis of its failure must include an examination of the violence of the external aggression perpetrated by Great Britain, the major power of central industrial capitalism at that time. Twice—in 1840, then in the 1870s, with seizure of control over the finances of khedival Egypt, which ended with the military occupation in 1882—England relentlessly pursued its objective: prevent the emergence of a modern Egypt. Undoubtedly, this Egyptian project had limitations, ones that were characteristic of the era since it was obviously a project of emergence in and through capitalism, unlike the second Egyptian attempt (1919–67). It is also true that the social contradictions inherent in this project, just like the political, ideological, and cultural concepts that underlie it, played a part in this failure. It remains the case that, absent imperialist aggression, these contradictions could probably have been overcome, as the Japanese example suggests.
Defeated, for nearly forty years (1880–1920) Egypt was forced to be a dominated periphery. Its economic, political,
