When I was a student in school and university, we were influenced by Egypt’s regional and African role, dreaming of an Arab unity beyond borders, speaking with one voice and defending the dignity of the Arab human being.
After the 1967 defeat, and after discovering the fragility of our military and political system, and realizing we had been deceived by songs of a power that was not real, the state of Egyptian youth changed after the shock of awakening. Yet even then, Egypt remained the leader and influencer regionally, and no one dared to think of removing it from its position.
After the October 1973 victory — recorded in history as the first Egyptian military victory over Israel, which we called the Arab victory — and after the Camp David negotiations, Sinai returned entirely to Egypt. Yet the Arab world boycotted Egypt and moved the headquarters of the Arab League to Tunisia.
The Arab League returned to its charter-designated headquarters in Cairo in 1990.
So the League remained headquartered in Egypt after a defeat, and left Egypt after a victory. Does this not indicate a distortion of standards?
Now, in a time when maps of influence are being redrawn, symbols mix with interests, and a question emerges — seemingly simple, yet touching the essence of identity and position:
Do we shape our present based on our history? Or must we build a new present to write a new history for ourselves?
And is having a civilizational memory extending thousands of years enough to guarantee the continuation of a central role? Or is effective presence in the present what truly preserves a nation’s place?
I follow the tense conversation about Middle East leadership — not merely political debate, but deeper questions.
Egyptian frustration is natural, for Egypt’s leadership of the Arab world was not just geography, but recognition of a historical role in leading Arab collective action. Meanwhile, emerging calls reflect political ambition grounded in rising regional influence of other countries with greater wealth and economic power supported by vast oil resources.
But is historical leadership measured by memories, or by current influence? And is fear of losing leadership a fear of losing status — or fear of losing action?
History, as memory, does not alone shape the future; it is not a magic wand that imposes the present or guarantees the future. Many nations once had great glory and became marginal entities when they settled for celebrating past achievements without renewing tools or confronting the challenges of their era.
Egypt, with its deep history, is unmatched in civilizational depth or founding most regional collective institutions: the Arab League, the African Unity Organization, and the Non-Aligned Movement.
But the painful question is: why has Egypt’s regional and international presence declined?
In the 1950s and 1960s, the Arab League HQ was not just a building in Cairo; it was an extension of a strong political, intellectual, and leadership voice. It was there because of Arab consensus on Cairo’s centrality — not just for Al-Azhar, pyramids, and history; not only because it was a beacon of civilization and enlightenment, or because its teachers, engineers, and doctors fueled the modern Arab world — but because it expressed a collective Arab dream and possessed tools of influence.
But since the U.S. invasion of Iraq, and after the 2011 turmoil, Egypt’s role declined, its influence in Arab affairs weakened, and new actors with wealth, media power, and ambition emerged to lead the region.
But is transferring negotiations from Cairo to Qatar or Saudi Arabia more important than influence? Is the issue headquarters — or the absence of Egyptian initiative?
The truth is even the Arab League itself has become fragile, and the occasional talk of moving its headquarters may just reflect technological and security changes that allow “centers” to move virtually, not just geographically.
Egyptian public frustration at the idea of marginalizing Egypt is understandable and legitimate, but should not turn into bitterness or denial of reality. Nor should the return of matters to Egypt under exceptional circumstances be considered the return of leadership.
Saudi ambition, on the other hand, is not strange — it reflects a bold vision for a new role in politics, culture, and economy, and such ambition is legitimate for any state.
But between frustration and ambition, we need rational vision:
How does Egypt regain initiative? Is the solution defending headquarters, or crafting a new Arab intellectual, cultural, and human project led from Egypt?
Egypt’s history cannot be bought or falsified. But it is not enough alone.
Those who made history can build the future — if they believe in themselves, manage the present wisely and courageously, strengthen institutions, invest in youth, and open up to the age.
Thus we ask again:
Does history shape Egypt’s present? Or does the present alone shape a new history?
The answer is not in angry reaction, but in positive action that restores Egypt’s role not by words — but by proactive measures, not merely by default when other states and Israel and the West have no alternatives.
Egypt is not a historical archive — it is a spirit breathed into every Arab who hears Umm Kulthum, reads Naguib Mahfouz, Taha Hussein, Al-Aqqad, and Ahmed Shawqi, watches Egyptian cinema and calls it “Arab film,” uses the word “Masari” for money, and carries within him the idea of justice that Egyptians gifted to the Arab world — from Muhammad Abduh to Saad Zaghloul.
Headquarters may change, institutions may move, influence may shift — but what does not change is the value a people assign to themselves and their homeland.
If we believe we carry a mission, not just a location, and we act, supported by a unique heritage no one else has, then Egypt — despite difficulties — can redraw history, instead of being a prisoner to it.
We only need awareness… will… management… and forward-looking vision, relying on the strength of our educated youth.
