Those who believe that what happens in politics can be explained by coincidence are mistaken. Politics, by its nature, is a conscious act, based on planning, prioritization, and the selection of paths. Policies may fail, and plans may falter, but the persistence of failure in the presence of available resources cannot be described as coincidence.
Much has been written about “conspiracy theory,” and about how it has become, in the Arab world, a convenient tool for escaping self-accountability. It places blame on hidden forces, absolves internal actors of responsibility, and relieves decision-makers from scrutiny. Yet understanding that politics is managed according to interests and plans does not mean falling into conspiracy thinking; it is simply the basic premise of any serious political analysis.
When we look at Egypt, we are not speaking of a country poor in resources or marginal in position. We are dealing with a state that possesses:
A massive human population, an exceptional geographic location, two seas, a global shipping canal, and a vast lake in the south.
A history, a civilization, and cultural depth, as well as a climate suitable for agriculture, tourism, and renewable energy.
And yet we face a shocking reality: expanding poverty, accumulating debt, declining education, and dependence in energy on a state considered a strategic enemy in collective and historical consciousness.
Here, the question is not: Who is conspiring against us?
The real question is: How is the state being managed, and in whose interest are decisions made?
Opportunities that arise and are not invested in are not fate, but consequence. Alternatives that are not discussed do not indicate a lack of options, but a deliberate exclusion of reason. In politics, there is no vacuum; every space not filled by a conscious national decision is filled by an imposed decision or an external interest.
Dependence on an adversary is not a technical mistake that can be justified by necessity; it is a strategic choice with long-term costs to sovereignty. Neglecting education is not merely a budgetary crisis, but an implicit declaration of the desired future: a less aware society, easier to manage, and weaker in accountability.
The most dangerous thing that can afflict a state is to grow accustomed to failure, to normalize losses, and to market crises as achievements. At that point, politics shifts from managing possibilities to managing justifications, and from shaping the future to consuming time.
Here lies the message of awakening: not every failure is a conspiracy, but the persistence of failure amid abundant resources is not coincidence.
Awakening begins when we restore the value of reason, when we distinguish between security and stability, between the state and the regime, and between patriotism and the sanctification of decisions.
Politics does not need more slogans; it needs the courage to review itself.
It does not need new enemies; it needs honesty with itself.
Nations rise when they acknowledge their mistakes and correct their course.
