The defeat of the Egyptian national football
team by their Saudi Arabian counterparts in the 2018 World Cup can be viewed as
a metaphor for the triumph of the Saudis over Egypt after an intense and
sometimes deadly political rivalry played out during the rule of the charismatic
and secular-orientated Egyptian president, Gamal Abdel Nasser.
Egypt
has a rich tradition of football at both domestic and international levels.
Along with the ‘Black Stars’ of Ghana, the ‘Pharaohs’ of Egypt were the glamour
team of African football back in the 1960s, and despite several significant
lows have, over the course of time, established a formidable reputation as
seven-times winners of the African Cup of Nations tournament. The derby matches
held between the Cairo club sides Al Ahly and Zamalek represent an enduring
rivalry, which is arguably as passionately intense as any other in the world
including Istanbul’s Kitalararasi Derbi
and the Spanish El Clasico.
Saudi
Arabia, which established its football federation 35 years after Egypt’s, did
not enter a tournament until 1984. And although it has gone on to become one of
Asia’s most successful national football teams, the rankings tabulated respectively
by FIFA and the Soccer Power Index, demonstrate that Asian football continues
to trail that of the African continent.
Going
into the match held in Volgograd on June 25th, Egypt could boast of having
defeated Saudi Arabia in 4 out of 6 meetings. The first meeting between both
countries in September 1961 during the Pan Arab Games ended in a 13-0 rout of
the Saudis. Although the phenomenal gap in quality had closed over the years,
Egypt emerged as 2-1 winners the last time they met in 2007.
For
these reasons, it would appear rather perplexing to think of a footballing
rivalry as existing between Egypt and Saudi Arabia. However, the nature of the
football World Cup tournament in its straightforward evocation of nationalist
pride and rivalry has been apt at bringing into sharp focus the relations of
nations who have been scheduled to play each other.
This
was clearly the case when England played Argentina in the 1986 World Cup in
Mexico, four years after the military conflict between Britain and Argentina
over the Falkland Islands, which is known to Argentineans as Las Islas
Malvinas.
And
the imagination of the global public was stirred by the drawing of the United
States and Iran in the same group during the 1998 tournament.
While
the same cannot be said about the drawing together of the Kingdom of Saudi
Arabia and the Arab Republic of Egypt into Group A of the present World Cup,
the Saudi defeat of an Egyptian side which included English Premier League
Golden Boot winner Mo Salah, may have brought to the minds of some the
previously intense and sometimes deadly political rivalry that once existed
between both countries.
The
struggle for the heart and soul of the Arab masses between the secular Egyptian
republic led by Gamal Abdel Nasser on the one hand, and the Wahabbist monarchy
of Saudi Arabia on the other, was at its peak during the 1960s. The eight-year-long
civil war in North Yemen between republican and royalist factions was one
manifestation of a struggle, which also placed both countries on opposite sides
in the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union.
Where
the pro-Western Saudis were tradition-bound and seemingly resistant to change,
the government of Nasser, which had been formed by members of the Free Officer
Movement, appeared to be progressive. Nasserism not only embodied Arab
nationalism, it also embraced the spirit of Bandung-era anti-imperialist
sentiment and Afro-Arab solidarity.
At
the apex of its appeal in the years following the Suez War of 1956, Nasser-led
Egypt appeared to represent the hopes and the aspirations of the Arab people,
and not the rulers of Saudi Arabia, who felt threatened and sought to check the
spread of Egyptian influence.
That
rivalry has, for all intents and purposes, been defunct for several
generations.
How
and why did Egyptian prestige and influence in the Arab world fall to its
present state? Perhaps a starting point can be made by referencing the
humiliating defeat inflicted on the Egyptian armed forces by the State of
Israel in 1967 when the Israelis routed the combined armies of Egypt, Syria and
Jordan.
This
defeat so traumatised the Arab psyche that it provided an avenue through which
the fundamentalist brand of Islamism espoused by ideologues such as the Muslim
Brotherhood’s Sayyid Qutb could begin to gain greater appeal.
Nasser
may have executed Qutb, but a succession of failures: militarily against
Israel, economically in relation to the implementation of his brand of
socialism, and politically the fracture of the United Arab Republic project
with Syria alongside the quagmire in Yemen, began to convince some
intellectuals and the man-in-the-street that secular nationalism was no longer
the preferred course through which Arabs could develop their societies.
Egyptian
prestige dwindled when it began to be perceived that Anwar Sadat, Nasser’s
successor, had become a tool of the West, and Egypt, with its ever expanding
population but meagre resources, could not compete economically with the
oil-rich Saudis.
While
Sadat had garnered a modicum of esteem for Egypt after the Arab-Israeli War of
1973, the oil embargo and the ensuing fuel crisis strengthened the hand of the
Saudis whose bargain with the United States to sell oil solely in US dollars in
return for guaranteeing the security of the House of Saud, offered the Saudi
monarchy an extra layer of protection.
Although
less concerned now about the possibility of Nasserite-inspired conspiracies
aimed at overthrowing the royal house as had occurred during Nasser’s heyday, the
Saudis still felt threatened by the possibility of a revival of the Nasserite
ideology in Egypt, and by the machinations of his ideological heir, Colonel
Muammar Gaddafi, who had overthrown the Libyan monarchy in 1969.
An
indication of the change in the balance of Saudi-Egyptian relations was
apparent with the more or less wholesale abrogation by Sadat of Nasser’s
policies, in return for subsidies and low-interest loans from the Saudis. Also,
while the Arab League has for much of its history been characterised as a ‘do-nothing’
organisation, it was clear that as Egyptian influence waned, that of the Saudis
grew.
The
hand of the Saudis was also strengthened by the jolt caused in 1979 by the
Siege of Mecca, which had the effect of intensifying the policy of exporting
the Wahhabist ideology to foreign Muslim lands as a form of atonement to the
senior clerics of the realm who warned Saudi Arabia’s rulers that the siege,
which was staged by the followers of Juhayman al-Otaibi, had been caused by
Saudi Arabia’s steady drift towards an ‘infidel culture’, that is, what they
considered to be the adapting of Western practices in Saudi society.
By
now, the days when Egypt had actively provided a counter-weight ideology of
secularism to the Muslim world were long gone.
For
decades, Egypt’s rulers, beginning with Sadat and continuing with Hosni
Mubarak, have largely played second fiddle to the Saudis. And under General
Abdul Fattah el-Sisi, this state of affairs has arguably become more
pronounced. It is an open secret that el-Sisi was brought to power in 2013 by a
coup which was financed by Saudi Arabia.
Furthermore,
the ceding by Egypt to the Saudis of the Red Sea Islands of Tiran and Sanafir
in June 2017 provoked widespread outrage in Egypt. Although both Islands are
largely uninhabited, the transfer of sovereignty was interpreted by many
Egyptians as an abject surrender to Saudi suzerainty. It was a pact that many
believe was reached because of Egyptian need for Saudi aid.
There
are likely to be many Egyptians whose pride will be sorely dented by a sporting
loss to the sparsely-populated desert kingdom to whom their leaders have
increasingly become beholden.
A
football match, it appears, has come to mirror the loss of Egyptian
geopolitical power and influence relative to that gained and wielded by the
Saudis.
© Adeyinka
Makinde (2018)
Adeyinka Makinde is a writer based in London, England.
Adeyinka Makinde is a writer based in London, England.
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