Warda United The Arab World
The release of the song “El Watan
El Akhbar” (“The Great Nation”) seemed to capture the sentiments that
were running wildly through the hearts of young people across the Arab
world. Longtime rulers were falling victim to an outcry for liberation.
The lyrics, by legendary Egyptian composer Mohammed Abdel Wahab, read:
“Nothing but the triumph of the Arab people, my country, my beloved. In
Yemen, Damascus and Jeddah, you are sweet, oh victory ... Between
Marrakech and Bahrain, the same tune for a perfect unity. Oh you, whose
soil is the makeup of my eye; my country, O fortress of freedom.”
The
year was 1960. An air of emancipation was sweeping through Arab
nations, as people sought to free themselves from colonialism and to
embrace an era of nationalist resistance movements. Pan-Arabism was a
concept championed by Egypt’s President Gamal Abdel Nasser, and it
seeped into the political discourse of countries across the region,
urging Arabs to come together in the face of tyranny. “El Watan El
Akhbar,” a collaboration by some of the Arab world’s most famous
singers, including Algerian legend Warda Al-Jazairia and Egyptian
heartthrob Abdel Halim Hafez, stirred the vehemence and imaginations of
people from Morocco to Bahrain.
Decades
later, Arabs are once again fighting tyranny—this time, from within.
While leaders have become targets of discontent of their citizens, the
legacies of many singers, like Warda, Egypt’s Oum Kalthoum, and
Lebanon’s Fayrouz, with their gallant, patriotic lyrics, continue to
inspire and unite the Arab people in a way many politicians tried—and
failed—to do. And they will continue to do so even in death, as
evidenced by the massive outpouring of grief at the death of Warda, the
Algerian Rose, at the age of 72 on May 17 in Cairo.
Today,
very little else links the highly contrasted Arab people beyond music
and art, particularly that which touches upon three very basic
sentiments: love, God, and nation. Even now, as several countries across
the Middle East and North Africa usher in a new hodgepodge of leaders,
nostalgia remains for the triumphant era of pan-Arab awakening.
In
Algiers on May 19, mourners gathered outside the Palace of Culture to
remember Warda’s life. Many sobbed as the crowd waved posters of the
late diva and crooned her patriotic songs—both melodic and melancholy.
In a rare honor bestowed only on politicians, the government sent the
Republican Guard to preside over the procession; Minister of Culture
Khalida Toumi said Warda leaves behind “a deafening silence and a
profound sadness.” Her passing triggered responses across the region,
with Egypt’s state-run Al Ahram newspaper running the headline: “The Algerian Rose’s legacy will live on.”
Warda
was born in France but returned to her motherland when Algerian
fighters defeated French colonialists in 1962. She had already earned a
reputation as a patriot, having released a number of songs calling for
the freedom and liberation of the Arab people. “Her songs had an
important message in those days, and still the meaning is strong today,”
said Cherine Said, 27, a receptionist for a government office in
Algiers. “I listen to Warda, or Oum Kalthoum’s music, and my mother and
father listen to them, too. It makes us feel like we have something in
common with the other Arab countries.”
Warda
“is viewed in much of the Arab world as a symbol of Algerian
nationalism as part of pan-Arab identity,” said Adel Iskandar, a
lecturer at the Center for Contemporary Arab Studies and the
Communication, Culture and Technology program at Georgetown University.
“She is publicly associated with the long-gone era of pan-Arabism that
so many people are yearning for, especially these days with the Arab
Spring making people very nostalgic for those days.”
Inspiration
is not a concept taken for granted in the Arab world, particularly
since it takes a legend to bring this vastly diverse region together.
Arab nationalism is an ideology built on the belief that the people
living between the Atlantic Ocean and the Persian Gulf are linked
through linguistic, religious, and cultural heritage.
The humiliating defeat in the 1948 Arab-Israeli war strengthened the resolve of the Arabs to unite against a common enemy. But the creation of the United Arab Republic in 1958, which included Egypt and Syria, and attempted to incorporate Iraq and North Yemen, did not take and quickly crumbled, each country pursuing its own interests, abandoning the pan-Arab dream. While it failed in practice, this new concept of nation-state instilled in Arabs a sense of empowerment. The ideology, meanwhile, morphed over time from a reality into utopia.
The humiliating defeat in the 1948 Arab-Israeli war strengthened the resolve of the Arabs to unite against a common enemy. But the creation of the United Arab Republic in 1958, which included Egypt and Syria, and attempted to incorporate Iraq and North Yemen, did not take and quickly crumbled, each country pursuing its own interests, abandoning the pan-Arab dream. While it failed in practice, this new concept of nation-state instilled in Arabs a sense of empowerment. The ideology, meanwhile, morphed over time from a reality into utopia.
Warda’s
death triggered memories of a time when Oum Kalthoum, then the biggest
name in Arab music, would hold controversial underground performances
for student activist groups and for the Free Officers Movement, the
group credited with unseating Egypt’s monarchy. “She was an essential
part of the anti-colonialism movement,” said Iskandar. “She’d perform at
the student events even though she was a very notable singer; that made
a huge impact.”
So
significant was her influence across the region that her 1975 funeral
drew an estimated 4 million mourners—one of the largest gatherings in
Arab history, even more than the funeral of Nasser, who gained
widespread support for his decision to nationalize the Suez Canal and
declare war on Israel. In a 2010 interview by France’s Courrier de l’Atlas,
violinist Said Hekal, a member of Oum Kalthoum’s ensemble, said: “The
death of Oum Kalthoum caused a great shock to all Egyptians. If they saw
Nasser as their father, they then lost their mother.”
Other
singers rooted in that genre would have a similar impact. The music of
Fayrouz was banned in her native Lebanon for six months in 1969 after
she refused to perform for Houari Boumedienne, who had seized power to
become president of Algeria. Her act of protest only further catapulted
her career, given Boumedienne’s unpopularity. Similarly, Lounès Matoub,
an Algerian Berber singer, soared to fame during his country’s civil war
for his provocative advocacy of Berber rights. He was shot several
times, including once by a policeman in 1988. Ten years later, he was
fatally gunned down, his death triggering mass protests by Berbers who
chanted “Pouvoir, Assassin!” (government assassins!) He is still revered as a martyr of the Berber people and a symbol of their fight for equality.
As
the years passed, indeed, the element of cynicism grew. Bold
revolutionaries like Nasser, Libya’s Muammar Gaddafi, and Algeria’s
Ahmed Ben Bella, who emboldened citizens via coup d’états and uprisings,
would eventually fall from grace, one after the other. Yet the
tarnished reputations of those leaders never detracted from the longing
for that era in modern Arab history, and the patriotic songs of the
period remain among few tangible memories.
Just
as youth have been a driving force in the Arab Spring, young activists
played a major role in bringing an end to colonialism across the Arab
world. However, as the dust settles in countries like Egypt, Libya,
Yemen, and Tunisia, concerns are growing that the revolution is falling
into the hands of elderly leaders, too disconnected to mobilize a young
populace—65 percent of which is under the age of 25. Algeria’s President
Abdelaziz Bouteflika is 75, and the country’s Interior Minister Daho
Ould Kablia is 77. The top two contenders in Egypt’s presidential
election are 60 and 70. Tunisia and Yemen’s interim presidents are both
66. Saudi Arabia’s King Abdullah is about 87, and his new Crown Prince
Nayef is 79.
“We
are in a time of revolution and our young people don’t feel inspired
because the governments have no link to 2012— they are totally
disconnected,” said Fodil Boumala, an Algiers-based sociologist and
analyst. “The Arab youth see the new French government, many in their
40s and 50s; they see Barack Obama, who is only 50; and they see a big
gap between their governments and the new world.”
“These
days we have new rappers in Morocco, Tunisia, Algeria who are talking
about jobs, about poverty, about a political, social, cultural, and
sexual revolution,” added Boumala. “They have a huge following on the
street, more than any of our leaders ever did or ever will.”
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