As I was living in my own utopian state of mind from meeting, bonding, and appearing with Jon Stewart—another utopia was in the making back home.
The summer of 2012 was the one in which Egypt would, for the first time in history, truly elect a president.
You might ask, Well, didn’t you guys have presidential elections before?
And I would answer, Sure, but it was that kind of election, you know, the one where you already know who will win? It was Egypt’s legacy to create pharaohs and vote for them for life, and the afterlife . . .
Egypt had always been occupied by someone else throughout its history. The pharaohs built the pyramids and thought, Eh, we can’t top that, got bored, and just gave up. Which paved the way for the Greeks, the Persians, the Romans, the Muslims, then different sectarian factions of Muslims, all the way to the French, the Ottoman Empire, and of course the British Empire, to make their mark on Egypt.
In Egypt we were always told that our country is the graveyard of invaders, a slogan that was ingrained in our heads at a very early age. It is even written on big banners greeting tourists just in case they have second thoughts! We grew up thinking that our country is invincible and that no invader would succeed in overcoming it. But as we grew older and looked back to our history we realized that our country was indeed just a graveyard for all invaders who stayed long enough to die there and hand it over to yet another invader.
Until 2005, we didn’t have elections. As mentioned before, we had referendums with yes-or-no votes where there was only one candidate. During Nasser, the results of these referendums were 99.5 percent yes. I kid you not. There was one human being who said no to Nasser. That was the reason he was split in half.
Across the Arab world the Nasser voting phenomenon spread. Military coups were the new trend. The Saddams, the Ghaddafis, and the Assads of the Arab world were all inspired by Egypt’s 1952 “revolution” (wink, wink, nod, nod).
There is a famous joke that comes from Syria, while under the rule of their dictator Assad senior (father of the current president). It goes something like this: A Syrian immigrant in London heads to the Syrian embassy to vote in the presidential elections (not really, it was a referendum of yes or no to the president). He decides that this time he will finally say no to Assad. After he casts his vote and begins to head home, he is suddenly struck with terror over what he has done. He decides to quickly return to the embassy, ask the officers for forgiveness, and change his vote to yes. When he arrives, he pleads with the officers to hand his ballot back to him so he can correct his grave mistake. The head officer approaches him and states, “Well, luckily, we had already changed it for you; don’t do that again!”
Since the military took over in 1952 presidential referendums in Egypt all ended in a yes vote, ranging from 99.5 percent to 99.99 percent. With percentages like that, a president could have won three consecutive races without even trying.
Getting a little cocky, Mubarak decided to have “real” elections in 2005, in which he allowed other candidates to run against him. Given this new appearance of choice it was obvious that Mubarak’s popularity had taken a sharp dip. After decades of enjoying 99 percent of votes it was sad to see the guy winning by only 88 percent! If only his ego had taken an 11 percent drop too.
So in 2012, a year after Mubarak stepped down, we had what we could call a real presidential election. The Muslim Brotherhood a year earlier had said that for the sake of the revolution they would not put up a candidate. So of course when the elections came, for the sake of the revolution they pushed two candidates.
The first candidate was Khairat al-Shater, a real strongman of the Muslim Brotherhood. However, he was quickly rejected due to his prison history, not for his scatological surname. He was the brains, the money, and had all the Islamic swag. When he was rejected, Mohamed Morsi, a mere employee in the Brotherhood, was pushed to run. Everyone knew who really called the shots, though. Through the Brotherhood, al-Shater launched what was called the “Renaissance Project,” a huge PR campaign that glorified their master plan for the future of Egypt.
At that time I was between seasons and was still negotiating the nitty-gritty terms with CBC. All I had back then to voice my opinions was my Twitter account. With 140 characters at a time I was driving the Brotherhood crazy, making fun of their every move. Through their newspapers and television channels they launched a full-on public attack against me.
That’s why it seemed odd when out of nowhere I received an invitation to meet with Mr. al-Shater himself. His people told me that he wanted to speak to me about the Renaissance Project and give me better insight into what was going on. It was the same policy of “hear from us, not about us” that they had started their campaign with a year earlier.
Tarek’s father organized the invite. Okay, remember Tarek? My friend who started the show with me on the Internet? Yeah, funny story, his father was a lifelong member of the Muslim Brotherhood. Ironic, right? Even Tarek’s brother started working with them too because he believed their rhetoric. Tarek didn’t buy into all of that and frequently had problems with his family. They really didn’t like the fact that he was producing my show. Sound complicated? Well, imagine how their family dinners used to go.
So I went to meet al-Shater and found out that the head of Google Egypt was also invited. I figured out that this was a PR move to make the Brotherhood look better.
The meeting was held in their headquarters and lasted for two and a half hours, though the guy from Google and I got to talk only a total of fifteen minutes. That should give you some perspective on what the “conversation” was like.
Al-Shater told us how happy he was to meet us, and I joked about how his media was not nearly as happy as he was with me. He then went on for half an hour explaining that the Brotherhood didn’t have the experience to work in an open media environment and that they needed all the help they could get, even if it was from outside the Brotherhood. Hmmm, the strongman needs my help?
He went on and on about the Renaissance Project and how they’d developed it and how they’d adopted it from other success stories in the world, such as Brazil, Turkey, and Singapore.
I doubt you’re surprised, but I didn’t give two shits about the project. Tyrants all over the world have amazing projects: it just depends which end of the project you’re on. I was worried about that tsunami of dogma taking over the country. I was worried about Egypt turning into Afghanistan and the government using Sharia law to curb civil liberties. So in the couple of minutes’ window I was allowed to speak, I told him, “What you have told me about your project could be considered a well-written essay full of lofty language that doesn’t really mean anything. I want to know why you insist on using religion as part of your rhetoric.”
He answered with the same cunning method that I have seen Islamists use everywhere. “Well, since it is a democracy, I am free to choose my method and you are free to choose yours. If you are a liberal or a socialist you can put forward your ideology, so why can’t I put forth mine? We both lay our ideologies on the table and people can choose for themselves. Isn’t that democracy?”
Sounds pretty smart, right? Well, that might work with some people. They can shut down television anchors with this argument. But seeing how they manipulated democracy with it, he wasn’t fooling me.
When he tried to return to his useless explanation about the Renaissance Project, I stopped him.
“Hold on one second,” I said. “What you have just said doesn’t really make much sense. Islam, socialism, liberalism, capitalism, and any other -ism out there could be marketed freely among the people as ideologies. But this can only apply if you have a fair playground. I can’t play a game of basketball with you when you don’t even need to defend your twenty-foot-tall hoop and mine is only five feet and you can dunk every time. This is what political-religious ideologies do. They make it unfair for other people who don’t share your ideology. Secularism, on the other hand, is a fair playground. Now, your -ism is a method of play, a plan of attack and defense, but it shouldn’t change the parameters of the court or the rules of the game. We are in a country where Sharia Law is the main source of legislation. It is already unfair to use religion for a political win because the law is on your side. When I disagree with a liberal or a socialist, I can knock his theories and policies out the window. I can simply tell him that they are wrong by logically arguing my position. But how can you accept it when I tell you that you are wrong when you claim to be speaking in the name of God? I can’t compete with God and I can’t tell you that God is wrong. And as far as the people go, you know that we have a very high illiteracy rate and they will follow religion over reason every time.”
Then I told him something that I couldn’t have known would actually come true a year and a half later. “You are trying to present yourself as right-wing, and you think that in actuality you are only slightly right of center, but the truth is, you will be drawn further and further by the Salafis, which will lead to your radical downfall.”
As I finished, the other men in the room were looking at each other, not used to seeing someone talking back to their feared leader. Another problem in our Arab world is that our old men are used to one-sided conversations, whether they are preaching at a sermon or in army camps. They love the sound of their own voices. That’s why, despite the apparent feud between religious and military powers in the Middle East, their tactics are much closer to each other than you would think.
He chuckled and said, “Don’t worry, we know how to handle the Salafis.”
You see, the Muslim Brotherhood were well organized and they recognized that if they got the Salafis on their side, the sheer volume of their supporters would allow them to win the elections.
Al-Shater marveled at how he manipulated Salafis in the parliament. “They are very easy to deal with,” he said. “They try to put up a lot of obstacles about how the laws are not ‘Islamic enough.’ For example, we needed to approve a loan from abroad and they wouldn’t approve it because they think interest rates are haram, so we reapplied the law and called the rates ‘Islamic deeds’ and we were able to get it approved.”
My god, I was sitting with a con artist! This is how they intended to control the country. Religion when needed, business when appropriate, and deception all the time.
“Are you actually bragging about duping your Salafi colleagues in the parliament?”
The others in the room grew restless.
“I am trying to tell you that they are not as dangerous as you think. Now, let me continue with our vision of the Renaissance Project—”
“You didn’t answer my question about using religion,” I interrupted. “What you have told me is not convincing, and I find it hard to trust you guys if you continue using the same tired technique.”
“We are not here to discuss Sharia, we are here to discuss the project and how we adopted it from other successful countries,” he responded sharply.
“Well, since we are talking about successful countries,” I said, “none of those countries have Sharia Law and they are doing fine.”
“You can’t draw similarities between Egypt and other countries. Every country is different,” he answered.
“Well, you just did. By giving examples of other countries, you bring their whole experience to the table, you can’t just pick and choose,” I said.
And then—bam!—he slammed his hand on the table. “Listen,” he said impatiently, “what is the percentage of the Islamic block in the parliament?”
“What does this have to do with anything?” I asked.
“Answer me, what is the percentage?”
“Well, seventy-five percent,” I replied.
“The people have chosen,” he said decisively. “We have the majority. The people want religion.”
“So what are we doing here then?” I asked. “It is obvious that you don’t need the twenty-five percent minority. Good luck with your majority. History is full of others like you who got arrogant because of percentage points and statistics and masses cheering for them in the streets. Many of them wish they would have listened to much calmer voices who didn’t cheer their every move. But why would you be any different?”
We left the building as the confused eyes of his subordinates followed us.
Right in front of the Brotherhood headquarters I lost my cool.
I barked at Tarek, “This is the guy your father wanted me to meet? He is a fucking asshole. You think Mubarak was a dictator? This guy is worse, much worse, he is going to fuck us all once they get to power.”
Tarek wanted to remove me from there since we were still outside their building and he was scared someone would hear us.
At that point I lost all hope that anything good could come out of the Brotherhood. Even Tarek, despite his family roots, was disappointed after that meeting.
Those guys were on a next-level power trip and were happy with their majority in the parliament.
As presidential elections approached, there was a final count of thirteen candidates. The only “Islamic” candidate was Mohamed Morsi, the one who had been used as a puppet by al-Shater. There were others with different backgrounds and even some with previously Islamic backgrounds, but Morsi was the true Islamic candidate.
You would think that Morsi would have won from the first round, wouldn’t you? Well, he managed to get only 25 percent. This was a huge blow for the Islamists. After killing it in every election and referendum, they saw that their popularity was diminishing.
All the same, Morsi still managed to be the top candidate, but only by three points. There was going to be a final run-off vote between the top two candidates. He was closely trailed by the previous prime minister under Mubarak, Ahmed Shafik (I know too many alien Arabic names). They would have a head-to-head final showdown.
The shift of the Muslim Brotherhood’s behavior was truly interesting. After being so arrogant and pompous they went back to “apologize” to the “comrades of the square,” and went around begging for support. They called me and many others and asked us to support Morsi to beat the representative of the old regime. Many of the liberal camp, you know, the 20 to 25 percent who were previously unneeded, took the bait—not because they liked Morsi or believed the Muslim Brotherhood, but because many considered that the first freely elected president after the revolution should not be the prime minister who symbolically represented the old regime.
Morsi won by 51 percent. He couldn’t have won without the “insignificant minority” they always belittled.
Sure enough, after he and the Brotherhood won, they did what they do best: screwed everyone over. Let the games begin!
MORSI WAS NOW THE REALITY THAT WE HAD TO DEAL WITH. STILL in a daze from my visit to The Daily Show, I realized I had to get my shit together as quickly as possible.
We finally managed to sign the contract with CBC for the new season. Most of the media experts continued to laugh at us and count the days for us to flop. I decided to ignore the critics and march forward. The only thing that mattered was to make sure no one interfered with our content.
It was time to think big: bigger team, bigger production, and bigger theater. We found a deserted theater in the middle of Cairo only a quarter of a mile from Tahrir Square. A beautiful prime location where we could smell the tear gas every time there were further clashes in the square. Everything needed to be renovated, as the building had lain vacant for fifteen years. This was a great way to start our project—by telling our investors that we had chosen a location that was in danger of vandalism and destruction from day one.
People continued to make fun of us because we were putting all this effort into a weekly show, but I didn't care. I was too busy trying to build a completely new team. In Egypt we don’t have regular writers for news shows. Mostly what we have are part-time journalists who write summaries of the day’s events for the anchors to comment on. That’s Egyptian television. It was like trying to build a car in a country with no infrastructure for a decent industry.
I picked writers from Facebook and Twitter. We hired young researchers, again none who had worked in media before. With so many amateurs on board, we had the same chance of succeeding as a nine-year-old at a Texas Hold’em tournament in Vegas.
The technical front was a disaster. We had a problem with live editing and how to do it in the theater. The production team tried three different companies to make this work, but they all failed. We didn’t have a single company in the region who specialized in that kind of technology, so we had to train people who’d been in the industry for years on how to do the live edits.
The time was approaching for our debut on television and everyone was anticipating it—either waiting for us to break out big or fail miserably.
On the political front, again many accused me of selling out. A year earlier I had been the dog that belonged to the Christian billionaire. Now I was the dog of a shady owner of a shady corporation who was hiring faces from old media. The only constant was the dog part. You can never win.
Part of me was motivated by the fact that I wanted to impress Jon Stewart. The way he celebrated me and my team and my pledge to make a live-audience political satire show for the first time in the Arab world was my driving force. I dreamed that one day he would visit me in my theater and would be proud. Everyone laughed at me when I told them that, the same way they had laughed at me when I said I would take an abandoned theater and create a live show. I had a lot to prove, even to myself.