Sure, there were those scholarly minds who joined Egyptian youth as they took to the streets in 2011, but did so timidly. Some appeared to be members of a bygone generation, desperate for validation. Others were simply present, without owning the moment or knowing how to truly define it, or define their relationship to it.
Yet the "spring" generation, which prided itself on being "leaderless" proved equally incapable of capturing popular imagination beyond the initial phase of the protests, nor offered a new cadre of intellectuals that would formulate a new generational vision. Many of the secularist intellectuals, who had already grown distanced from the masses, in whose name they had supposedly spoken but never truly represented, were confounded by the new reality. Although they failed to bring about any kind of change, they feared losing their position as the hypothetical antithesis to the existing regimes. Their words hardly registered with the rising new generation. They were out of touch and as surprised as the regime by the changing tide.
But it was when various Islamic parties seemed to be reaping the outcome of the revolts through the ballot box that these secular intellectuals felt truly threatened. They perhaps accidentally enlisted as mouthpieces for the very regimes they had purportedly fought for decades. At best, they grew dormant and faded into oblivion.
This is a strange period in the history of Arab culture and politics. It is strange because popular revolutions are propelled by the articulation and insight of intellectuals. It is truly unparalleled since the al-Nahda years (roughly between 1850 and 1914), which witnessed the rise of a political, cultural and literary movement in Syria, Egypt and elsewhere with the utilitarian blend between pan-Arabism and pan-Islamism. The intellectuals of that Arab, Islamic renaissance seemed often united in their overall objectives, as they stood against Ottoman dominance and imperialist ambitions. They were inclusivists in the sense that they sought answers in European modernity, but self-respecting enough to challenge foreign dominance through the revival of Arab culture, and Islamic teachings.
How that movement evolved is quite interesting, and complex. Today's Muslim reformists -- the so-called moderates -- can be traced back to those early years. Mohamed Abduh and Jamal al-Din al-Afghani are towering figures in that early movement, although they were and remain controversial in the eyes of the more conservative Islamists. The secularists, on the other hand, merged into various schools and ideologies, oscillating between socialism, Arab nationalism and other brands. Much of their early teachings were misrepresented by various dictatorships that ruled, oppressed and brutalised in the name of Arab nationalism.
Still, there were prominent schools of thought, manned by formidable intellectuals, whose ideas mattered greatly. There seems to be no equivalent of yesteryear's intellectual in today's intellectual landscape. The closest would be propagators of "moderate Islam," but they are still a distance away from offering the kind of coherence that comes from experience, not just theory. The secularists have splintered and become localized, jockeying for relevance and vanishing prestige.
But this is temporary. It has to be. The great cultures that have survived prolonged fights against brutal dictators and foreign dominance for generations, yet still gave birth to some of the most brilliant intellectuals, novelists and poets of all time are capable of redeeming themselves. It is only a matter of time, and perhaps, initiative.
History without the moral leadership of intellectuals is devoid of meaning, chaotic and unpredictable. But this is a period of seismic historical transition, and it must eventually yield the kind of intellectual who will break free from the confines of the ego, regimes, self-serving politics, sects, ideologies and geography.
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