Introduction: LANGUAGE AND IDENTITY
IN MODERN EGYPT
The aim of this work is to examine how language is used in Egyptian
public discourse to illuminate the collective identity of Egyptians, and
how this identity is then made manifest in language form and content.
The data used to identify the collective identity of Egyptians in public
discourse includes newspaper articles, caricatures, blogs, patriotic songs,
films, school textbooks, television talk shows, poetry, and, finally,
Egyptian novels that deal with the theme of identity.
Edwards (2009: 20) stipulates that “individual identities will be both
components and reflections of particular social (or cultural) ones, and the
latter will always be, to some extent at least, stereotypic in nature because
of their necessary generality across the individual components.” That is,
the influence of public discourse in providing a coherent unified identity
to all Egyptians is essential, even on the level of individual identity.
What concerns us here is the individual as a member of an imagined
“coherent group.” A collective identity may be stereotypic, exclusive,
built on myths, detached from reality, and propagated by politicians or
the media at different times. However, it is, indeed, this imagined identity that steers individuals into taking specific actions, endorsing others,
and perhaps putting up with some. This in itself makes the study of the
relationship between language and identity a pivotal task.
It has been established that language does not stand alone, but is
related both directly and indirectly to social, political, historical, and
other extra-linguistic factors (Spolsky 2004). However, extra-linguistic
factors also need to be examined in relation to language. Thus, one
cannot describe the social and political changes in Egypt without referring to the diglossic community and how code-choice reflects a political
or social stand in most cases and is, in almost all cases, a reflection of an
[1]
2]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
identity, whether a collective one or an individual one. In addition, identity, as we mentioned above, is the product of a community, not just an
individual. A collective national Egyptian identity is no exception. While
Edwards begins his book on language and identity by posing the question
of what he has in common with himself as a little child in a picture, an
even more challenging question would be: what does an Egyptian have in
common with a statue of a Pharaoh, which is 3,000 years old,1 especially
given that this Pharaoh is supposedly a pagan, who speaks a different
language altogether?
Writing a book about language and identity in Egypt is a challenging
task, but a necessary one. Such work will further our understanding of
the relationship between identity and language in general and also yield
insights about the intricate ways in which media and public discourse
more generally help shape and outline an identity through linguistic
processes. Individuals express this identity through linguistic practices,
including code-choice and code-switching.
I.1 Why Egypt?
Despite the fact that Egypt is the most populous Arabic-speaking country
in the world, there are exceedingly few monographs on language in Egypt
during the modern period.2
Egypt, like all Arab countries, is a diglossic community—that is, a
community in which in addition to the different dialects, two varieties
exist side by side, each with a different function. Ferguson (1959) called
these varieties a “High” variety (in our case, Standard Arabic or SA) and a
“Low” variety (here, Egyptian colloquial Arabic or ECA). There are differences between the varieties on the lexical, morphological, and structural
levels. Observe the following example:
ECA:
iʃ-ʃaba:b
fi
tamanta:ʃar yo:m
illi: ʕamalu:h
rel “do”-3mpl-pr3msg det-“youth” “in” eighteen
day (sg)
ʕamaluh
fi
sitti:n sana
ma-˙addi-ʃ
neg-“one”-neg “do”-3msg-pr3msg “in” sixty year(sg)
“What the young people achieved in eighteen days, no one had achieved in
sixty years”
SA:
ʃ-ʃaba:b
fi: θama:niyata ʕaʃara
ma: faʕala-hu
rel “do”-3msg-pr3msg det-“youth” “in” eight(f)
“ten”(m)
Introduction
[3
yawman lam yafʕal-hu
a˙ad xila:la
sitti:n sanah
“day”-acc neg 3msg-“do”-juss-pr3msg “one” “during” “sixty” “year”
Compare and contrast ma-˙addi-ʃ ʕamaluh and lam yafʕal-hu a˙ad in the
second part of the sentence. ECA and SA sometimes have distinct lexical
choices: while ʕamala is also used in SA, it is construed in a much narrower sense as “to work,” whereas in ECA it means “to do” in a general
sense. It is also apparent that negation works differently in both varieties:
where the negated verb is bracketed by ma . . . ʃ in ECA, SA has various
negation schemes, including the pattern (lam + imperfect) for actions
completed in the past. The system of numerals in SA is highly complex:
for numbers between twelve and nineteen, when used with a masculine
noun, the “ones” have a feminine marker, whereas the “tens” are masculine in form. In comparison, the numbers in ECA are greatly simplified.
Phonological variations are not dominant in this example. Perhaps the
most salient feature of many types of ECA is the replacement of q with ʔ.
In addition, Egypt constitutes more than one-third of the Arab world
with a population exceeding 80 million. However, the relations between
Egypt and other Arabic-speaking countries have never been without
political rivalry and tensions. This is reflected in perceptions of identity
in public discourse.
Since the beginning of the twentieth century, Egyptian intellectuals
have oscillated between considering Egypt the leader of the Arab world,
calling her, as Ibn Ba††Ëtah (d. 1369) did in the past, “the mother of the
world,”3 and emphasizing the distinctive nature of Egyptians as descendants of an ancient civilization, both geographically and historically different from other Arab countries. This contested identity—at times brought
to the forefront by political and social problems—is fertile ground for a
sociolinguistic study.
In discussion regarding political change in Egypt (and the Arab world
at large), “identity” is constantly referenced as a driving force, both by
commentators in Arabic-language media and in the English-language
press. Hussein Agha and Robert Malley (2011) argue that it is not possible
to understand the actions of people in Arab countries without understanding what their concept of identity “entails”:
One cannot fully comprehend the actions of Egyptians, Tunisians, Jordanians
and others without considering this deep-seated feeling that they have not been
allowed to be themselves, that they have been robbed of their identities. Taking
to the streets is not a mere act of protest. It is an act of self-determination.
But identities also develop and acquire new meanings and positions or
appeal to older and forgotten categories. In The New York Times, Shadid
4]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
and Kirkpatrick (2011) attribute the wide spread of protests and revolts
in the Arab world and the success of some of these revolts to the new
meaning of national identity acquired by “Arabs”:
The revolutions and revolts in the Arab world, playing out over just a few
months across two continents, have proved so inspirational to so many because
they offer a new sense of national identity built on the idea of citizenship.
As for Egypt, it is not just Egyptian public discourse that constantly tries
to demarcate the uniqueness of Egyptian identity, but non-Egyptian
public discourse as well, as evidenced in the example below (Bender 2011):
But, Egypt is different. The borders of the Egyptian nation have been roughly
the same since the Nile River was first settled. Unlike Iraq, which never really
connected its modern version with the Sumerians and Babylonians that ruled
within its modern borders long ago, Egyptians continually connect themselves
to their ancient and Medieval Era ancestors. Its deep, communally-shared
history should serve as the mortar between the bricks of Egypt’s diverse
society, and that combination should help repel threats of a military takeover.
Bender does not just discuss Egypt’s uniqueness compared to other
countries, but relates this unique identity of Egyptians to the political
future of Egypt. According to Bender, it is because Egypt has a long, wellestablished history that it will be difficult for the military to take over.
The relationship between language and identity in Egypt, especially
after the January 25, 2011 Revolution, was also highlighted in non-Egyptian media, as in the example below (Bender 2011):
Even before the European powers demarcated the boundaries of the contemporary Middle East during the mid-20th century, Egyptians were unique from
the Bedouins migrating across the Sahara and Arabian deserts. They spoke
a distinct Arabic dialect, no doubt born from the busy markets of Cairo and
Alexandria. They relished their shared cultural identity that made them not
just Arabs, but people of Africa and the Mediterranean Sea. They bore a sizable
Coptic Christian community that had contributed to society since the preIslamic era. For periods throughout much of the past millennium, especially
before the rise of the Ottoman Empire, Cairo was seen as the social and political capital of the Arabs. Any visitor to the great Pyramids of Giza, along the
banks of the Nile River, knows that the Egyptians pride themselves in their
longstanding accomplishments.
Bender classifies Egyptians as being, to some extent, different from Arabs
and attempts to explain this difference by drawing upon independent
Introduction
[5
variables, such as history, locality, geographical position, religion, and
language. According to Bender, the fact that Egyptians spoke “a distinct Arabic dialect, no doubt born from the busy markets of Cairo and
Alexandria” is one of the main reasons why they are different from others.
The reference to the market streets of Cairo and Alexandria also implies
that this dominant dialect is an urban one, as opposed to a Bedouin or
rural dialect. The relationship between language and identity comes to
the surface in this example—this is what this book will concentrate on.
However, it is not non-Egyptian public discourse that will be discussed,
although it has to be referred to, but Egyptian public discourse.
The Egyptian Revolution lasted for eighteen days, beginning on
January 25, 2011 and ending with Mubarak’s abdication on February 11,
2011 after thirty years of ruling Egypt. The protest movement in Egypt
questioned the legitimacy of President Mubarak and his government and
their claims to represent the Egyptian people. The demands of the opposition were encapsulated in the seemingly simple Standard Arabic slogan
al-ʃaʕb yuri:d isqa:† al-niΩa:m (“The [Egyptian] people want to overthrow
the system”). As a result, the public discourse of the Revolution—both
pro- and anti-Mubarak—revolved around several interrelated questions:
who are “the Egyptian people”? Who represents them? What do they
want?
Interestingly, many explicit statements about Egyptian identity during
the revolution contained direct references to language. This is hardly
surprising, given the central role of language in the construction of the
Arab identity (for a thorough historical analysis of this phenomenon, see
Suleiman 2003). What is new in the context of the Egyptian Revolution of
2011 is that language—as a marker of identity—became a pivotal element
in the political contestation between “the people” and an autocratic
regime.
To give but one example: before stepping down, Mubarak gave three
speeches over a period of eighteen days. Unlike his previous speeches (see
Bassiouney 2006), the three speeches were given in Standard Arabic, rather
than Egyptian colloquial Arabic or a mixture of standard and colloquial.
This marked choice to use SA rather than ECA did not go unnoticed by
Egyptians. Mubarak was known to use ECA in his speeches; he was even
criticized and accused by some intellectuals and opposition leaders of
never having mastered SA. On the other hand, the former Tunisian president Bin Ali, ousted weeks earlier, was famous for using only SA in his
speeches, never code-switching between Tunisian Colloquial Arabic and
SA. Bin Ali, did, however, use only Tunisian Colloquial Arabic in his last
speech to the Tunisian people before fleeing to Saudi Arabia on January
14, 2011. Bin Ali, in his last speech, said, in Tunisian Arabic, fihimtuku
(“I understood you”). Mubarak made sure to never show weakness and
6]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
never say “fihimtuku”—incidentally, a word that is pronounced almost
identically in both Tunisian Arabic and ECA—and also never use ECA in
his last three speeches. Egyptians, Tunisians, and Arabs more generally
realized, despite not being linguists, the differences between the speeches
of Bin-Ali and Mubarak. Egyptians then joked that as long as Mubarak
used SA in his speeches—the authoritative language code—he would
cling to power. Code-choice was fundamental, not just to define identity,
but to foretell the next political step that was to be taken by the regime.
The content of Mubarak’s three speeches was also important. The
way that Mubarak positioned himself as serving Egypt, rather than
Egyptians, smacked of vanity and detachment from reality, but was also
a linguistically and politically calculated choice of intentionally abstracting himself from Egyptians and concentrating on a more important and
sacred entity, which is “Egypt.” That is to say, according to him, the
implicit message is that Egyptians may not know what is good for Egypt,
but he does. While he referred to serving Egypt for thirty years, the protestors demanded that he now listen to what “Egyptians” want. Identity was
underscored and contested, and linguistic resources were manipulated by
all those involved in the conflict.
The linguistic choices of the protestors, on the other hand, are worth
a book by themselves; their slogans were in SA, ECA, English, and
French, to name but a few. They started by chanting “leave” in SA. When
Mubarak then broadcast his first speech and showed no sign of listening, the protestors used ECA and SA, saying ʔir˙al yaʔni ʔimʃi yalli
mabtifhamʃi (“ ‘leave’ means ‘go,’ you who do not understand”). After the
SA imperative “leave,” they explained the simple word “leave” in ECA,
accusing the president of not understanding their demands and failing
to understand SA. By accusing him of not understanding SA, they also
implicitly undermined his authority and legitimacy, as will be made clear
in this book. SA has many indexes that are usually manipulated at times
of conflict and transition. The imperative SA verb ʔir˙al was translated
into English and French, as well as ECA. The protestors claimed to be the
“real Egyptians,” as did the small pro-Mubarak group (see Chapter 6 for
a detailed discussion of the correlations between the political contestations of identity and the linguistic situation in Egypt).
I.2 Aims of this work
This book starts from the assumption that language is a resource, access
to which is constantly negotiated. Blommaert (2007: 115) defines language as a “repertoire: a culturally sensitive ordered complex of genres,
styles, registers, with lots of hybrid forms, and occurring in a wide variety
of ways big and small.” In public discourse, individuals choose from their
Introduction
[7
“repertoire” to index social variables that index an identity. That is,
through linguistic resources, individuals construct an identity.
The main aim of this book is to answer the following questions: what
is the relationship between language and identity in Egypt, and how is
this relationship manifested through language use and discussions about
language in public discourse?
In order to answer these questions, one has to first answer a number of
other questions, including the following two:
1. In a diglossic community such as Egypt, how do language ideology and language attitudes feed into the indexical associations and order of indexicality
between different varieties and languages—that is, different codes—and how
do social factors, history, politics, and language policies also feed into that
linguistic process? That is, how are the associations of SA, ECA, and foreign
languages applied to discussions of identity? In more general terms, can
orders of indexicality better our understanding of diglossia as a linguistic
phenomenon more generally and in Egypt in particular?
2. If language is considered to be a resource for individuals in a community,
then what are the mechanisms of claiming access to codes or utilizing linguistic resources in Egyptian public discourse? And what is the relevance of
the associations of linguistic codes to the process of stance-taking, in which
speakers position themselves as Egyptians or non-Egyptians in public discourse and thus align or disalign with an object or person or group?
I.3 Setting the framework
In this section, the diglossic linguistic situation in Egypt will be outlined.
The term “public discourse” will also be explained and the choice and
nature of data will be discussed.
I.3.1 The linguistic situation in Egypt
Egypt’s official name is Jumhu:riyyat mißr al-ʕarabiyya, translated
into English as “The Arab Republic of Egypt.” In Arabic, the word
“Egypt” comes first before “Arab,” so that a literal translation would be:
“Republic-of-Egypt, the-Arabic.”
In order to provide some background on Egypt, I provide a few statistics here:4
Population: 83,688,164 (July 2012 estimate)
Ethnic groups: Egyptian: 99.6 per cent; other: 0.4 per cent (2006 Census)
Religion: Muslim (mostly Sunni): 90 per cent; Coptic Christian:5 9 per cent;
other Christian: 1 per cent
8]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
Map of Egypt
Introduction
[9
Languages used in Egypt:6
Standard Arabic (official)
Egyptian colloquial Arabic (in most cases, this is used to refer to Cairene
Arabic, but there are different varieties of colloquial in Egypt)
Nubian (ca. 50,000–170,000 speakers)
Bedja (ca. 15,000)
Siwi (ca. 6,000–22,000)
Some Armenian and Greek in Cairo and Alexandria
Colonization: 1882–1952
Official languages:
1882–1952 Arabic and English
1952– Arabic
Urban population: 43.4 per cent of total population (2010)
Rate of urbanization: 2.1 per cent annual rate of change (2010–15 estimates)
Literacy rates: (Definition: age fifteen and over can both read and write)
Total population: 71.4 per cent
Male: 83 per cent
Female: 59.4 per cent (2005 estimate)
Geography
Total area: 1,001,450 km2
Populated area: 78,990 km2 (7.8 per cent)
Arable land: 2.92 per cent
I.3.1.1 Arabic in Egypt
The Arabs conquered Egypt around 640 ce and incorporated the country
into their expanding empire. The languages used at this time in Egypt
were Coptic and Greek. There is some debate about the status of Greek,
but the available evidence suggests that both languages were used widely,
with a preference given to Greek in contracts and official documents
(Clackson 2004).
The practice of drawing up official documents in Greek survived for
a limited period of time under Arab rule (and, indeed, the use of Greek
letters as numerals in taxation records continued for some three centuries). However, purely Greek documents were soon supplanted by Greek–
Arabic bilingual ones, which, in turn, gave way to documents written
exclusively in Arabic.
In the Arab chronicles, this transition is attributed to a change in
language policy during the Umayyad dynasty (661–750 ce) and to the
caliph Abd al-Malik ibn Marwån (685–705 ce) in particular. This caliph
is often credited with implementing a consistent and effective language
policy that aimed to leverage the economic and political power of the
Islamic empire to change language practices and habits. Throughout
10 ]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
history, the success of language policies is usually limited (see Spolsky
2004), but Abd al-Malik is said to have initiated a policy that lead to
the Arabization of not just Egypt, but the entire Near East. According
to the traditional narrative, he made a drastic change in the administration of Egypt, by declaring that in order for Egyptians to keep their jobs
in the administration of Egypt, they would have to learn Arabic.7 Arabic
was supposedly declared the only language allowed in what we now
call government offices, and it became the language of the dÈwån—the
public register of stipends. In other words, unless Coptic speakers learned
Arabic, they would be replaced in the administration by Arabs. Now the
chronicles do not tell us much about the logistics of this change, and,
in fact, the papyrological record suggests that the shift from Greek to
Arabic was much more gradual (Hawting 2000: 63). On the other hand,
the triumph of Arabic over local languages may suggest that some sort of
language planning did take place, whether it was due to corpus planning
or status planning.8
While the sources are ambiguous about the specifics of the Arabization
of the administration, it is clear that Abd al-Malik instituted another
symbolic change that aimed to relate Arabic directly to the identity of the
Islamic empire: the change in coinage. During the early Umayyad period,
Muslim coinage had simply reproduced the style and iconography of
Byzantine or Sassanian coinage. Under Abd al-Malik, these models were
abandoned in favor of a design that was purely epigraphic; henceforth,
Islamic coins would not have an effigy of the ruler, but Islamic religious
formulae in Arabic (Hawting 2000: 64). As Goldschmidt (2008: 5) posits,
these fiscal and administrative changes would turn Coptic-speaking
Christian Egyptians into Arabic-speaking Muslim Egyptians, although
maintaining a Christian minority. Since then, Coptic remains a liturgical language known mainly to priests and monks, although there have
always been various attempts at its revival.
By tying language to economic and political power, the Caliph succeeded in implementing its spread both faster and more effectively.
There was no need to resort to extreme measures; language change was
imminent, especially with a parallel change in religion. Language contact
also had a pivotal role in language change in Egypt; the Arabs, when
they conquered Egypt, started building inland cities, such as Fus†å†, and
eventually some of them settled and mingled with the Egyptians, perhaps
more than Egyptian history books have previously acknowledged.
However, the question regarding why there is diglossia in the Arab
world and in Egypt as an Arab country is not yet resolved. Whether
Arabs all started speaking in Classical Arabic (a language similar to preIslamic poetry), or if Standard Arabic was ever a spoken language, and
whether there was a unified “Arabic” in the Arabian Peninsula are all
Introduction
[ 11
moot questions (see Versteegh 2001; Holes 2004). The linguistic reality is
that Egypt, as with all Arab countries, is considered a diglossic community. Diglossia will be dealt with in detail in the next section. However,
Egypt continuously examines the relationship between its language and
identity. As noted earlier, Egypt, as part of the Arab world, is a diglossic
community. In Arab countries, the official language is usually Modern
Standard Arabic,9 but there is also at least one prestigious vernacular
spoken in each country.
I.3.1.2 Ferguson’s definition of diglossia in the Arab world
The following is Ferguson’s definition of diglossia:
Diglossia is a relatively stable language situation in which, in addition to the
primary dialects of the language (which may include a standard or regional
standards), there is a very divergent, highly codified (often grammatically
more complex) superposed variety, the vehicle of a large and respected body of
written literature, either of an earlier period or in another speech community,
which is learned largely by formal education and is used for most written and
formal spoken purposes but is not used by any sector of the community for
ordinary conversation. (Ferguson 1959: 336)
According to Ferguson, diglossia is a different situation from one where
there are merely different dialects within a speech community. In diglossic communities, there is a highly valued H (High) variety that is learned
in schools and is not used for ordinary conversations. That is to say, no
one speaks the H variety natively. The L (Low) variety is the one that
is used in conversation.10 Most importantly, Ferguson claims that the
crucial test for diglossia is that the language varieties in question must
be functionally allocated within the community concerned (Fasold 1995:
35). Ferguson stresses that both H and L have to be in “complementary distribution functionally” (see also Boussofara-Omar 2006: 630).
According to Ferguson, diglossia is a relatively stable phenomenon.
Ferguson implies that if a society is changing and diglossia is beginning to
fade away, this will have specific signs, such as speakers mixing between
the forms of H and L, and thus an overlap between the functions of H and
L occurs (Ferguson 1959: 336).11
Ferguson proceeds by exemplifying situations in which only H
is appropriate and others in which only L is appropriate (1959: 329).
According to him, the following are situations in which H is appropriate:
1. Sermon in church or mosque;
2. speech in parliament and political speech;
3. personal letters;
12 ]
4.
5.
6.
7.
Language and identity in modern Egypt
university lecture;
news broadcast;
newspaper editorial, news story, and caption on picture; and
poetry.
He also gives situations in which L is the “only” variety used:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
Instructions to servants, waiters, workmen, and clerks;
conversation with family, friends, and colleagues;
radio soap opera;
caption on political cartoon; and
folk literature.
Ferguson’s definition has been criticized and discussed extensively, even
by Ferguson himself (see Ferguson 1996), although it is only fair to note
that at that stage, Ferguson was describing a general linguistic situation;
indeed, he did not set out to describe Arabic diglossia as language standardization. He was describing diglossia cross-linguistically as it relates
to issues of standardization. Questions that arose from his definition of
diglossia are summarized below.
How far apart or close together do the H and L need to be for a language
situation to be called “diglossia”? This question was posed by Fasold
(1995: 50ff.), who claimed that there are no absolute measures that can
specify the distance between H and L in a diglossic community. Britto
(1986: 10–12, 321) considered the same question and argued that H and L
must be “optimally” distant, as in Arabic, but not “super-optimally,” as
with Spanish and Guaraní, or “sub-optimally,” as with formal–informal
styles in English.12
Is there only one H? Ferguson spoke only about a distinction between
H and L, without distinguishing the two different kinds of H such as exist
in the Arab world, where there is a distinction between Classical Arabic
(CA) and Modern Standard Arabic (MSA), although one has to note that
this distinction is a Western invention and does not correspond to any
Arabic term. However, CA is the religious language of the Qurån, which
is rarely used except in reciting the Qurån or quoting older classical
texts, while MSA can be used in a public speech, for example. Ryding,
in her book A Reference Grammar of Arabic (2005: 7), mentions that
both MSA and CA are referred to as “al-luġa al-fußha:” (“the standard
language”). This, in a sense, creates a shared past and present. She argues
that there are few structural inconsistencies between MSA and CA. The
main differences between both are stylistic and lexical, rather than grammatical. However, she posits that the journalistic style of MSA has more
flexible word order, coinage of neologisms, and loan translations from
Introduction
[ 13
Western languages. For example, journalistic-style MSA uses the i∂a:fa
construction (genitive “of construction”) to create neologisms for compound words or complex concepts. Bateson (1967: 84) posits that there
are three kinds of changes between MSA and CA. MSA is characterized
by having a simpler syntactic structure and being different in lexicon,
because of modern technology, and being stylistically different, due to
translations from other languages and the influence of bilingualism.
There is also the question of how different is the linguistic context of
countries where more than one language is in everyday use, such as in
Tunisia, where some people are also fluent in French? In such countries,
the term “diglossia” is too narrow for the type of situation that exists.
Ferguson considered—only to a very limited extent—the fact that
there can be switching between both varieties (H and L) in the same
stretch of discourse. Again, this is because he did not set out to reflect
the realistic situation in Arab countries, but rather to give an idealized
picture of diglossia.
Furthermore, Ferguson did not discuss the sociolinguistic significance
of the competing varieties. He did not propose that social factors may
have a part to play in the negotiation of choice of variety in a diglossic
community in specific sets of circumstances. This may be because, as he
said himself, social factors of this kind were not in fashion at the time
that the paper was written. They were not considered “true science”
(1996: 60). Instead, Ferguson greatly emphasized the “external situation”
in determining language choice. He claimed that in certain set situations H is appropriate, while in others L is appropriate, without taking
into account the possible significance of the individual in negotiating
(or deliberately subverting) “socially agreed” patterns of language choice
(and ultimately changing them). Having reviewed these recent reformulations and revisions to his general theory, let us now briefly review the
contributions Ferguson made to the study of Arabic diglossia.
Ferguson drew the attention of linguists to the existence of two language varieties in the Arab world and the fact that people have different
attitudes towards these two varieties, although the term “diglossia” had
been used earlier by the French dialectologist William Marçais with specific reference to Arabic (Fasold 1995: 34).
Despite all the subsequent criticism of Ferguson’s theory, his proposal
that there are two poles, an H and an L, is still valid, although they both
formally and functionally overlap. Indeed, Mejdell (1999: 226) posits that
the H–L division still has validity. After Ferguson’s article, linguists tried
to refine Ferguson’s concept by proposing intermediate levels, but still
these intermediate levels cannot be understood unless one presupposes
the existence of two “poles”—H and L. It may be that “pure H” or “pure
L” does not occur very often and that there are usually elements of both
14 ]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
varieties in any stretch of normal speech, but still one has to consider a
hypothetical pure H or L, in order to presuppose that there are elements
that occur from one or the other in a stretch of discourse. Ferguson
himself did, in fact, recognize the existence of intermediate levels, but
insisted that they cannot be described, except within the framework of H
and L (1996: 59):
I recognized the existence of intermediate forms and mentioned them briefly
in the article, but I felt then and still feel that in the diglossia case the analyst
finds two poles in terms of which the intermediate varieties can be described,
there is no third pole.
Ferguson certainly spurred linguists to examine diglossia, but he did
not provide definite answers to a great number of questions. As Walters
(2003: 103) puts it:
Our understanding of these phenomena [i.e. sociolinguistic phenomenon]
would be far less nuanced than it is today had Fergie not taught us to look
at Arabic as he did, looking past the norm and deviation paradigm that too
often still characterizes discussions of Arabic and all diglossic languages. In
so doing, he encouraged us to examine with care specific varieties and specific
sets of linguistic practices as ways of better understanding the sociolinguistic
processes found across speech communities that at first glance might appear
quite disparate.
Note, also, that Fishman (1967), in line with Ferguson, identified specific
domains to define diglossia. For example, speech events can fall under
different domains, like a baseball conversation and an electrical engineering lecture. The major domains that Fishman identifies are family,
friendship, religion, education, and employment (see also Myers-Scotton
2006). He also claims that these speech events are speech-community
specific.13
I.3.1.3 The concept of prestige as different from that of standard
There has been a growing realization since the mid-1980s that variation in
Arabic speech is not merely (or even mainly) a question of H interference
in L. According to Ibrahim (1986: 115), “the identification of H as both
the standard and the prestigious variety at one and the same time has led
to problems of interpreting data and findings from Arabic sociolinguistic
research.” This identification is the result of applying Western research
to the Arab world, without noting the different linguistic situation. In
research within Western speech communities, researchers have generally
been able to assume that the standardized variety of a language—the one
Introduction
[ 15
that has undergone the conscious process of standardization—is also the
variety accorded the most overt prestige.
Many studies have shown that for most speakers, there is a prestige
variety of L, the identity of which depends on many geographical, political, and social factors within each country and which may, in certain
circumstances, influence speech. In Egypt, for non-Cairenes, it is the
prestige variety of Egyptian Cairene Arabic; for Jordanian women from
Bedouin or rural backgrounds, on the other hand, it may be the urban
dialects of the big cities (Abdel-Jawad 1986: 58).
In a diachronic study conducted by Palva (1982), materials from Arabic
dialects spoken, recorded, and collected since 1914 in the Levant, Yemen,
Egypt, and Iraq were compared. Palva examined the occurrence of phonological, morphological, and lexical items in the dialects over a period
of time. He found that certain dialectal variants gradually become more
dominant than the “standard” variants. For example, the glottal realization /ʔ/ of the historical /q/, which is a phonological feature of several
vernaculars in the area, became widespread and dominant rather than
the MSA /q/ (1982: 22–4). Holes (1983a; 1983b) discusses the influence
of MSA on two Bahraini dialects from both a phonological and lexical
viewpoint. Amongst other observations, he shows that the degree of
influence of MSA on the speech of educated Bahrainis is dependent on the
social status of the speakers. The socially prestigious Sunni speakers are
not influenced much by the standard, while the speech of the low-status
Shiite speakers is relatively more influenced by the standard (1983b: 448).
Abu-Haidar, in her study of the Muslim and Christian dialects of
Baghdad, posits that (1991: 92):
Apart from MSA (the H variety for all Baghdadis), CB speakers [Christian
Baghdadi] use their own dialect as a L variety in informal situations at home
and with in-group members, while they use MB [Muslim Baghdadi] as another
H variety in more formal situations with non-Christians.
It has been realized that MSA is not the only source of linguistic prestige
and that in virtually every Arab speech community that has been examined, there is a dominant L that exerts influence on the other lower-status
Ls in that country or surrounding region. The reasons for its influence
are various, but principle among them is factors like the socio-economic
dominance of the city over the countryside (for example, Cairo) or the
influence of a ruling political group (for example, the royal families of the
Gulf). The dialects of these entities become a symbol of their power and
exercize a potent influence over those who come into contact with them
or who have to interact with speakers of these dialects.
Because this book is more concerned with attitudes, ideologies, and
16 ]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
discourse strategies than describing the differences between Standard
Arabic and Cairene Arabic as the prestigious variety, I will stick to the
term Standard Arabic to include CA and MSA, since Egyptians do not
make the distinction between both. I will also start with the assumption that Cairene Arabic, as spoken in some quarters of Cairo, is the
prestigious variety used in Egypt. This is not to deny the real diversity
of Egyptian society and linguistic practice. However, while there are
diverse dialects within Egypt, as well as distinct ethnic and linguistic
communities (especially outside urban areas; these include the Bedouin
and Nubians), public discourse attempts to portray a unified picture of
Egypt as a primarily urban civilization that emerged from the clustering
of people in the cities in ancient times (this is the historical narrative that
is put forward in school textbooks, among other media). It can be shown
that Cairene Egyptian Arabic is the variety that is primarily used to speak
about and represent “the Egyptian”; diversity is generally downplayed
and undermined, while the “distinct” character of Egypt as an ancient,
immutable entity—one that contains one ethnic group unified by different shared characteristics—is always in the foreground.
All this stands in contrast with linguistic realities. While one can
argue that Egypt has less ethnic and linguistic diversity than some other
countries in the region and that it is a centralized state built around cities
rather than villages or provinces, there are still different dialects within
Egypt that may carry their own covert prestige (see Trudgill (1972) for
an explanation of this concept), especially in the south of Egypt. These
regional dialects have deep historical roots and go back to patterns of population movement and settlement. For a more detailed map of dialects in
Egypt and a historical perspective of their evolution, see Behnstedt and
Woidich (1985).
I.3.1.4 Identity and code-switching in Egypt
So far, studies on diglossic switching as part of code-switching in Egypt
have not directly correlated identity and code-choice using the linguistic
tools adopted in this work. There are no studies that adopt the theories
of stance or subject positions directly to code-switching in Egypt. There
are also no studies that use orders of indexicality to explain cases of codeswitching and code-choice in the Arab world. In addition, there are no
studies that adopt an interdisciplinary framework such as the one adopted
in this work, which regards language as a resource, access to which is
unequal and negotiated. However, there are a number of studies that have
indirectly alluded to the speaker’s role in code-switching between SA and
ECA. Some of these studies are mentioned chronologically below.
There have been a number of studies that have attempted to explain
switching between ECA and SA in Egypt, whether in written or oral
Introduction
[ 17
performance. Holes (1993) examines the relationship between language
form and function in Nasser’s political speeches. He attempts to explain
cases in which Nasser switches between ECA and SA. Holes detects that
there can be an element of conscious choice in using one code rather
than another. In general, “[s]peakers are free to move up and down it
[the stylistic spectrum] in accordance with what they perceive to be the
moment-by-moment requirements for appropriate language use” (1993:
15). He stresses the role of the speaker by claiming that speakers always
have “intentions” and “strategies,” and these two factors influence their
language choices at both the micro and macro levels. In a similar vein,
Mazraani (1997) examines language variation in relation to three political
figures in Egypt, Libya, and Iraq and how these three political leaders use
language variation as a “rhetorical strategy” (1997: 25).
Mejdell (1996) examines stylistic variations in spoken Arabic with
reference to recordings of the Egyptian novelist Naguib Mahfouz talking
about his life, trying to explain the kinds of processes that motivate stylistic choices by matching certain discourse functions with the use of
one variety rather than another. She comes to the same conclusions suggested by Holes (1993): that people often switch from SA to ECA when
giving examples, explaining, rephrasing, or commenting on a previous
statement in SA. She also alludes to the fact that code-choice is related
to the way in which one perceives oneself, as well as to the way in which
one perceives others. In a later article (Mejdell 1999), she studies the
interaction between SA and ECA in the spoken performance of Egyptian
academics and writers “in settings where community norms require
a mode of speaking that is more formal” (1999: 228). Mejdell suggests
that code-choice should be examined in relation to the speaker’s change
of role, vis-à-vis her or his audience (1999: 231). Mejdell concludes that
she considers “the access to both varieties [SA and ECA], with the wide
span of cultural and social connotations attached to them, a rich stylistic
resource for speakers to use creatively” (1999: 227; see also Mejdell 2006.
Note that there is no determinism here: speakers can choose how they
speak, though within socially prescribed limits). Bassiouney (2006) also
applied theories of code-switching including markedness theory to different forms of monologues, which include political speeches, mosque
sermons, and university lectures.
In all of the studies above, identity has been referenced indirectly, but
not in relation to the stance-taking process and not in direct relation to
indexes. There is no study to date that does so. This book takes on this
task.
18 ]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
I.3.2 Public discourse
This book will concentrate on data drawn from public discourse, since, as
Wodak (1999: 8) contends: “Discourse constitutes social practice and is at
the same time constituted by it.”
Identity construction is an ongoing process; for example, in order for
us to understand and analyze the way that language was employed at the
time of the January 25 Revolution of 2011, we have to start as early as the
beginning of the twentieth century and consider how the development
of national identity and language ideology and attitudes took shape and
were influenced by the relationship of Egyptians towards “the other,”
whether that “other” be a colonial power or a powerful neighbor-state.
Before discussing the nature of the data, I will first define public
discourse.
Johnstone (2010: 36) defines discourse as follows:
Discourse is a continual process of mutual coordination in making sense of
the world; “languages” “grammars” and “identities” emerge in the course of
this process, as humans’ reflexivity—our ability to see what people do as an
illustration of how to do it, and to arrange things in ways that encourage others
to attend to these illustrations—links together sets of actions, linguistic and
otherwise, into registers of conduct.
Johnstone emphasizes the fact that discourse is not just related to
meaning, but to society at large, and that language is a product of the
process of humans attempting to coordinate their existence in relation to
actions, communities, and other individuals. Language is related directly
to habits, both behavioral and linguistic.
Public discourse, on the other hand, refers to media discourse, educational discourse, political discourse, and scholarly discourse (Van Dijk
2008). Media discourse, which, in my opinion, is the main component in
public discourse, refers to the organizations that produce communication
devices, such as the press, cinema, broadcasting, publishing, and so on.
Note that the term “media” is also used to denote the cultural and material products of these organizations and entities, such as the “forms and
genres” of news and soap operas, for example, which then take the forms
of newspapers, paperback books, films, tapes, discs, and so on (Lister et al.
2003: 12; Thompson 1995: 23–5).
In general terms, as Androutsopoulos (2007: 215) posits, “rather than
always speaking in their ‘own voice,’ media performers use language to
stylize an array of social identities, relying for this purpose on the cultural
and sociolinguistic knowledge they assume to share with their audience”
(see also Coupland 2001). According to Androutsopoulos (2007: 215), the
Introduction
[ 19
identities constructed and assumed by media performers may be claimed
by the performers themselves and also projected to their audience. It may
also be “ascribed to social types in the bilingual community.” That is, it
may reflect a social stereotype prevalent within a particular community.
According to Lister et al. (2003), there are now new patterns of organization and production of media, such as computer-mediated communication: e-mail, chat rooms, and blogs. These new forms are commonly
called “new media.” The main characteristic of new media is its availability to everyone, with little or no ownership regulations or censorship.
According to Eickelman and Anderson (2003: 2), new media “feeds into
new senses of a public space that is discursive, performative, and participative, and not confined to formal institutions recognized by state
authorities.” This may explain why Lister speaks of media as “a fully
social institution” (2003: 12).
In addition, a main component of public discourse is institutional discourse. Institutions are usually associated with physical buildings, such
as hospitals, schools, and courts. Institutions are directly connected to
powerful groups and mainly serve their interests (Agar 1985). They also
produce binary roles, such as the role of the expert, who is the institutional representative and has authority, and the non-expert (client), who
must accommodate and listen to institutional norms. Institutional public
discourse that is relevant to this book is educational discourse, primarily
textbooks, which are the main vehicle of conditioning and indoctrinating
minds. Van Dijk claims that:
like the mass media, educational discourse derives its power from its enormous
scope. Unlike most other types of texts, textbooks are obligatory reading for
many people, which is a second major condition of their power [. . .] The knowledge and attitudes expressed and conveyed by such learning materials, again,
reflect a dominant consensus, if not the interests of the most powerful groups
and institutions of societies. (Van Dijk 2008: 61–2)
However, public discourse is a process that is interactional, rather
than binary. A community adds to public discourse as much as it is
influenced by it. It is noteworthy, however, that as Heller (2007: 341–2)
posits, at a time when we are “imagining other, more complicated and
fluid ways of organizing ourselves . . . both language and identity are
being commodified, often separately.” This commodification of identity
in public discourse is essential to this work, as well as in more general
terms, since this commodification at times highlights preconceived perceptions, while at others creates them. As Coupland (2007: 118) argues,
public discourse is loaded with ideological concepts, socio-cultural
frames, and stereotypes. He posits that:
20 ]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
the mass media certainly play an important role in reshaping the sociolinguistic environment, which is of course a matter of normalized attitudes and ideological meanings for language as well as a matter of how language forms and
varieties themselves are distributed. (2007: 185)
Public discourse is an outcome of a mutual benefit relation between producers and consumers.
In this section, I have shed light on different types and genres of
public discourse. It is important to know that in general public discourse,
the seemingly simplistic or conversely sophisticated mirror attitudes
and ideologies within a specific community, whether large or small.
Audience plays a vital role in public discourse and the shared concepts
and perceptions between audience and producers are essential for the
success of public discourse (see also Bell 1984).
The question posed by Spitulnik (2009) is echoed throughout this
work, which is basically: how can we speak of a homogenous speech
community across the nation-state, where there may be millions of
people who do not know each other and may not even all speak the same
language? The answer lies to some extent in public discourse and, in the
case of Spitulnik, specifically in mass media. When discussing the relation between speech community and mass media, Spitulnik (2009) argues
the following (2009: 95):
The repeating, recycling, and recontextualizing of media discourse is an important component in the formation of community in a kind of subterranean way,
because it establishes an indirect connectivity or intertextuality across media
consumers and across instances of media consumption. Returning to the earlier
discussion about speech communities, then, this indicates that even for large
scale societies, it is possible to speak of a density of communication and frequency of interaction in a lateral sense.
Spitulnik contends that a speech community is usually described by three
features: density of communication, frequency of interaction, and shared
linguistic knowledge. However, according to Spitulnik, these three features can be realized through mass media. For example, density of communication can be indirectly achieved through large-scale exposure to
radio drama or soap opera. Frequency of interaction can also be indirectly
achieved through the frequent and dense consumption of mass media,
rather than direct face-to-face interactions. Finally, shared linguistic
knowledge can be achieved by media institutions that provide “common
linguistic reference points” (Spitulnik 2009: 94–5). Any speech community, whether imagined or real, requires “some experience of belonging.”
Linguistic practices can then create possibilities “for shared identities to
Introduction
[ 21
be imagined” (Spitulnik 2009: 95). This connection between an imagined
coherent speech community and public discourse that relates directly to
identity is pertinent in this work.
I.3.3 Choice and nature of data
The relevance of the data analyzed was drawn from how this data is
related directly to identity construction and how this identity construction is related directly to language form and content.
This book does not always provide a quantitative study, but rather
focuses on producing a qualitative study of identity and language in
Egyptian public discourse. As will be clear in the discussion of identity
in Chapter 1, identity, as Blommaert (2005: 203–4) contends, is context
dependent and involves “a semiotic process of representation,” which
includes symbols, narratives, textual genres, national categories, and
socially constructed categories, such as age, gender, and profession. It is
more appropriate for this work to include different forms and genres of
public discourse that all have in common—at least, to some extent—a
similar and at times stereotypical conception of an Egyptian identity.
What the data has in common is that Egyptian identity is discussed
explicitly or implicitly. The analysis will concentrate on issues pertaining to the Egyptian personality, identity, and portrayals of “Egyptianness”
throughout the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.
While with blogs I choose the most recent ones, with songs and novels
I choose the most dominant and relevant ones from the beginning of
the twentieth century through to the present. The reason for this is that
blogs and novels are different forms of public discourse and so consequently have a different lasting effect on the audience. While I analyze a
talk show that took place during the revolution and which aimed to cast
doubt on the identity of the protestors in Tahrir Square, for example, I
need to sometimes go back approximately 100 years to examine a song
composed by Sayyid DarwÈsh (1921), so as to show that the issues relevant to DarwÈsh are still resonating in the same square where the protests
took place in January 2011.
Therefore, I draw upon data from patriotic songs, novels, books, newspaper articles, films, blogs, talk shows, and poetry to show how language
is used as “a set of ideologically-defined resources and practices” (Wodak
1999: 8).
While newspapers, for example, have been analyzed before as an essential form of public discourse (although not in Egypt as related to identity
construction), there are fewer studies on films, blogs, novels, and patriotic songs as related to identity construction, although they are not less
important.
22 ]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
In this book, I concentrate on specific forms of public discourse
(mostly oral, for reasons mentioned below), but also written. Patriotic
songs and films are the main form of oral data analyzed in detail throughout this work (Chapters 3 and 4). The main form of written data discussed
in detail is novels that deal with themes of identity (Chapter 5) and also
books in which language and identity are discussed together. Newspaper
articles in which language and identity are discussed will also be mentioned and analyzed, especially in Chapters 2, 3, and 6. Talk shows and
caricatures are discussed in Chapters 3 and 6, respectively. Poetry is discussed in Chapter 6.
Textbooks and blogs are referenced in order to give evidence at times
and add new dimensions at others, but they are not analyzed systematically in this work.
It is noteworthy that the data analyzed presents mainstream public
discourse to a great extent, rather than fringe or more extreme discourse,
unless fringe discourse is used to contrast with mainstream discourse.
All the data in this work is selected with several factors in mind:
• Frequency: for example, how frequently the movies in question are broadcast
on TV.
• Saliency: this refers to how effective or relevant this data is for Egyptians. For
example, a song that is usually sung in school assemblies is salient.
• Wide scope of distribution: how available and popular the data is. A song
that is available on YouTube or an article that is available and can be read by
anyone for free has a wide scope of distribution.
The data covers up to the year 2013. It is essential to consider that
changes to public discourse are slow, rather than sudden. This is because
public discourse depends on intrinsic shared conceptions and assumptions for its appeal and maintenance over time.
In the next couple of paragraphs, I will highlight some of the reasons I
decided to concentrate on these genres of public discourse.
I.3.3.1 Egyptian oral culture: films, patriotic songs, poetry
One of the main media genres analyzed in this book is the performance genre, including comedy movies, television shows, and popular
music. This is because linguistically in the performance genre, speech,
whether bilingual or monolingual, is subject to planning and editing
(Androutsopoulos 2007: 212). In these genres, construction of identity
is intentional and premeditated. Linguistic resources, including codechoice and code-switching, are built not just on linguistic realities, but
on ideologies and attitudes.
Egyptian nationalism during the beginning of the twentieth century
Introduction
[ 23
was, to a great extent, a product of oral media (see Fahmy 2011). Egyptian
oral culture has always played a pivotal role in the formation of Egyptian
identity in general. It is a normal part of children’s learning processes in
Egypt to memorize quotes from movies, slogans from patriotic songs,
or excerpts of religious texts. Oral culture in the Arab world, whether
in the modern or pre-Islamic world, has always been a powerful tool of
communication. Poetry in the Arab world (again, whether in the standard
language or the colloquial) was powerful enough that it could lead its poet
to either death or perpetual fame (Holes 2011). Egypt is no exception (see
Abu-Lughod 2002; Armbrust 1996). In Egypt, not just poetry, but films,
songs, and other forms of oral media have always, for Egyptians, formed
the crux of self-perception (Fahmy 2011). Oral media has the task of positioning the Egyptian within Egypt, on the one hand, and within the wider
context of the world, on the other. As far as I know, there has not been a
linguistic study on the effect of oral media on the Egyptian perception of
self so far. This book attempts to fill this void.
To give but an example, Egyptian cinema started producing films
with unique Egyptian traits and themes as early as 1917 (Shafik 2007). In
1939, Egyptians produced twelve films, while in 1986 Egyptians produced
ninety-two films. Egyptian films have helped spread ECA throughout
the Arab world as a semi-standard variety, understood by a vast number
of Arabs. Film production, although a commercial endeavor, was also a
powerful cultural tool that helped mold Egyptian ideologies and perceptions (see Gordon 2002; Armbrust 1996).
Patriotic songs are part of the performance genre of media (see
Androutsopoulos 2007 (above)); as such, they have always formed an
important role in emphasizing a strong sense of Egyptianness. There is
usually a clear pattern of usage of sociolinguistic variables in patriotic
songs. What is also interesting in Egyptian patriotic songs is that a great
number of them are rendered in ECA. A number of recent Egyptian
patriotic songs rendered in ECA are performed by non-Egyptians: ʔumm
id-dunya: (“The mother of the world”) is performed by La†Èfah, a
Tunisian female singer; ʕaΩi:ma ya: maßr (“Egypt, you are great”) is performed by WadÈ al-ÍåfÈ, a Lebanese male singer; and, finally, ana: maßri:
(“I am Egyptian”) is performed by NånsÈ Ajram, another female Lebanese
singer. What also makes patriotic songs significant for a study of language and identity is the fact that within the two main patriotic songs
that place Egypt in an Arab context and in which the Arab world is called
upon by singers from all over the Arab world, ECA is dominant (I refer
here to al-wa†an il-akbar (“My greater homeland”) and il-˙ilm il-ʕarabi:
(“The Arab dream”)). During the Egyptian Revolution—which was a
relatively peaceful one—songs were used as a weapon to inspire individuals to revolt, but also to send a challenge to the pro-Mubarak group. The
24 ]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
influence of songs both during and after the Revolution was mentioned
on the BBC website in reference to the Palestinian singer Reem Kelani
(2012). The website reads:14
Palestinian singer Reem Kelani has a unique perspective on the tumultuous
events in Egypt in early 2011—while in Cairo to research the music of Sayyid
DarwÈsh (1892–1923), she found herself watching history unfold. Caught
up in the revolution, she saw DarwÈsh’s music taking on a new and urgent
topicality, alongside the creations of contemporary songwriters [. . .] Reem
recorded protestors raising their voices against Mubarak, by singing DarwÈsh’s
songs—not only those dealing with nationalism and social justice: even love
songs by DarwÈsh moved protestors during the days of mass protest [. . .] The
overwhelming reality was of a host of unknown and unsung singing heroes
who led those around them into a musical formulation of pent-up political
frustration.
From Kelani’s perspective, songs have many connotations. They were
reflecting the frustrations, strength, and identity more generally. As
mentioned before, Egypt is not the only Arab country with a strong oral
culture. Oral culture is dominant throughout the Arab world. To give
an example of studies that examined code-switching in songs, Bentahila
and Davies (2002) analyzed Algerian Rai music lyrics. They concluded
that when there is switching between Arabic and French in these songs,
Arabic was the matrix code. They also argued that the pattern of codeswitching in these songs resembles code-mixing in an urban Algerian
community. However, Bentahila and Davies did not analyze patriotic
songs or Rai music from an identity perspective. This book takes a different approach. To my knowledge, this is the first book that studies patriotic songs and relates them directly to language and identity.
I.3.3.2 Written media: books, newspapers, novels, caricatures
This book will provide examples from newspapers, books, and also
novels. While the importance of books and newspaper articles that deal
with language and identity may be obvious for this work and has been
analyzed before (Suleiman 2003; Bassiouney 2009), novels that deal with
issues of identity have not been analyzed before from such a linguistic
perspective. I will concentrate in this section on the importance of narration in identity work.
Narration can be an excellent vehicle for constructing, as well as
reflecting, identity or at least a facet of it. As Georgakopoulou puts it:
“narratives are seen as a privileged mode for self-construction and a
unique point of entry into trans-situational features of the self and identity as those emerge in a person’s ongoing life story” (Georgakopoulou
Introduction
[ 25
2006: 83). As a “unit of discourse” (cf. Schiffrin 1984), narratives can yield
surprising insights into the way that individuals perceive themselves in
relation to their community and other communities. Stories in general are
a mode of defining ourselves and our attitudes and conceptions of reality
(cf. Bastos and Oliveira 2006; see also De Fina and Georgakopoulou 2012).
Chapter 5 tackles a number of novels that deal directly with the modern
Egyptian identity within different facets of its modern history.
Books in which the main theme is Egyptian personality or identity
are also relevant. Newspaper articles that relate language to identity are
mentioned as well. This genre of data will highlight the salient differences between oral and written discourse in Egypt.
Caricatures and posters are a novel kind of data that are not frequently
analyzed; the ones chosen for inclusion in this book, mainly mentioned
within Chapter 3, are sourced from online resources. This brings us to the
importance of online data.
I.3.3.3 Online media: general importance
While this book does not concentrate only on online media, it must be
mentioned in this introduction that online media played a vital role in
the Egyptian sense of identity during the January 25 Revolution of 2011.
What differentiates online media from other forms of media is the ability
to spontaneously interact and express opinions. As Greg Myers contends:
“online media users produce as well as consume the content” (2010: 264).
Blogs fit this category perfectly, since, as Greg Myers argues, anyone
with access to the internet can read a blog, write a blog, and post comments on a blog (see Fairclough 2000; Wright 2004). The Egyptian
Revolution has been called a media revolution first and foremost; blogs,
Facebook pages, and internet access were one of the main components of
its success. The joke goes that when two drunkards were sitting together
on the floor in Cairo, one suddenly asked the other: “What is Facebook?”
The other replied: “It is something they use to get rid of presidents with.”
The impact of online media is underscored in this joke and the danger
that wide access to this form of communication poses on autocratic political regimes is even more apparent.15 In fact, Mills posits that much of
our understanding of “democratic processes” is dependent on the concept
of “public or publics”:
Public communications are so organized that there is a chance immediately
and effectively to answer back any opinion expressed in public. Opinion
formed by such discussion readily finds an outlet in effective action, even
against—if necessary—the prevailing system of authority. And authoritative
institutions do not penetrate the public, which is more or less autonomous in
its operations. (Mills 1956: 303–4)
26 ]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
I.4 Chapter outline
In addition to the introduction, this work has six chapters and a conclusion. Chapter 1 provides the necessary theoretical background and also
sets the framework of data analysis. The term “identity,” especially
Egyptian identity in relation to public discourse, will be defined and
explained. The chapter will then outline the adopted approach, which
perceives language as both a social process and social practice (Heller
2007). This approach will then be expanded and developed to encompass theoretical methods of analyzing discourse that include positioning
theory, stance, and indexicality. In order to provide a systematic mode of
analysis, I will rely on what I term “linguistic resources.” These resources
are then divided into structural resources and discourse resources. These
resources will be explained and exemplified. Code-switching and codechoice, as linguistic resources, are discussed in relation to orders of
indexicality. The chapter will argue that language, for the purpose of this
work, is considered both as a social variable and a resource.
Chapter 2 provides the necessary background on the formation of the
modern Egyptian identity during the twentieth century. The relationship between language and identity will also be highlighted throughout.
Crucial concepts that directly influence the associations of different codes
will also be discussed, including nationalism, language policy, language
ideology, and language attitudes. Poetry and songs will be referenced.
Chapter 3 attempts to analyze and discuss associations or indexes of
codes in relation to language ideology and language attitude in Egypt,
with reference to concrete examples from public discourse, including
talk shows, films, newspaper articles, and books. Rather than depend
on attitude surveys that are, at times, methodologically flawed and
non-exhaustive, I depend on examples from public discourse, such as
the attitude towards Arabic teachers in Egyptian films. These data will
help explain what I refer to as “direct” and “indirect” indexes, as well
as the process of indexical layering that takes place during “talk about
language.” Although this is not an attempt to replace attitude surveys,
it is an attempt to offer a perhaps more subtle and fresh look at orders of
indexicality and diglossia. This new look at language as referenced in oral
and written discourse in Egypt aims to provide a more thorough understanding of language indexes in Egyptian public discourse. As with other
chapters, language will be regarded as “fundamentally a social phenomenon” (Heller 2007), as part of a wider frame of historical, political, and
social events, and essentially related to a process of perpetual patterning
of ideologies, both linguistic and otherwise.
Chapter 4 discusses the social independent variables used in Egyptian
public discourse to demarcate a cohesive and unique “Egyptian identity.”
Introduction
[ 27
Linguistic resources outlined in Chapter 1 will be used to analyze data in
this chapter, as well as in the next two chapters. Data used in this classification process includes mainly patriotic songs, but also films, textbooks,
blogs, online newspaper articles, as well as print newspaper articles. In
this chapter, language will also be discussed as an independent social
variable—a classification category. Variables analyzed include ethnicity,
historicity, locality, character traits, religion, the notion of “Arabness,”
and language. It will be argued in this chapter that, as a consequence of
the employment of these linguistic resources in public discourse, especially patriotic songs, Egyptians are depicted as forming a large, coherent
community.
Chapter 5 continues the discussion of social variables that elucidate
Egyptian identity. However, this chapter will depend on a different kind
of data: novels. There are four novels analyzed in detail: QindÈl Umm
Håshim (“The saint’s lamp”) (1944), al-Óubb fÈ al-manfá (“Love in
exile”) (1995), Awråq al-narjis (“The leaves of Narcissus”) (2001), and
Kitåb al-rin (“The book of rinn”) (2008).
The chapter will show how authors employ linguistic resources to
highlight social variables attributed to Egyptian identity. These social
variables include historicity, ethnicity, religion, and locality. The chapter
will then focus on language as a social variable and highlight discussions
of language ideologies in novels. However, the main contributions of this
chapter are in showing how authors use code-choice and code-switching
in dialogue within novels to both appeal to ideologies and reflect identity.
The concept of orders of indexicality will be used to explain the use of
code-switching in dialogue in novels.
Chapter 6 revolves around one theme: the contestation of identity
before, during, and after the January 25 Revolution of 2011. As the last
chapter in this book, it will act as a bridge, bringing together the layers
and structures of the intricate relationship between identity and language, relating the micro and macro levels of analysis, the indexes and
resources. Language as a classification category will be discussed both
before and after the Revolution, and language as a resource will also be
analyzed. Data in this chapter includes newspaper articles, television
programs, films, and poetry. The concepts of access and resources, as well
as the concept of linguistic unrest will be explained and exemplified. This
acts as a concluding chapter, followed directly by the general conclusion,
laying the foundation for future research and answering questions asked
at the beginning of this book, as well as posing future ones.
The book will end with a general conclusion that roughly recaps all
discussions and issues mentioned throughout, enunciating the contributions of this work and the framework proposed. Access to resources as a
framework straddles many of the theories discussed.
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Language and identity in modern Egypt
I.5 Contributions of this book
This book will fill a gap in the field. To my knowledge, this is the first
book that relates Egyptian identity to language. It draws upon new kinds
of data and utilizes recent sociolinguistic theories to explain this data
and relate it to a wider perception of a collective identity. It is also, to
my knowledge, the first book that draws on such a varied range of public
discourse. It deals with a crucial diglossic community that has undergone
political, economic, historical, and anthropological changes during the
twentieth and twenty-first centuries.
While situating identity in time and space is not a new phenomenon
(cf. Herman 2010), analyzing how this is done linguistically within media,
such as blogs, films, and patriotic songs, is indeed new. The book will
further our understanding of the interaction between identity and language in general and will explain the enormous role played by the media
in highlighting specific aspects of identity and undermining others at different times and in different circumstances. The book aims to become a
model for other studies in other parts of the Arab world and the world at
large. Each collective identity is unique in its own way and each nation
has its way of foregrounding its uniqueness. It is almost impossible for
an outsider to realize and understand this subtle yet obvious relationship
between language and identity within a specific community. This book
attempts to do so.
There is an urgent need for studies that relate identity to language and
offer a more comprehensive and eclectic view of the relationship between
language as a symbol, impregnated with ideological indexes, and the formation of a nation and or a nation-state, which feeds into identity construction. Suleiman (2011: 39) expresses this need when he posits that:
Having read widely around the topic of the rise and progress of Arab nationalism, I was struck by how many times scholars have pointed to the importance
of the Arabic language in nation building; but I was struck even more by the
absence of any sustained study that explains the ways in which Arabic was
used in this respect. The same is true of the role of Arabic in articulating political and social conflict in society or of the role of Arabic literature, especially
poetry, in the formation of national consciousness.
Suleiman also focuses on the significance of studying the relationship
between language and identity, especially in conflicts between different
groups (2011: 22).
This study will attempt to do just that: to relate ideology to language
and language to identity in a particular nation-state, Egypt. I propose to
do this by employing sociolinguistic theories and, in the process, test
Introduction
[ 29
these theories, modify them, and develop them. This process will involve
a rigorous methodological framework that incorporates different concepts and draws upon linguistic resources in order to make the research
watertight, rather than over-interpretive or subjective.
One of the main arguments of this work is that different theories of
code-switching, of stance-taking as a process, or of indexicality can be
understood and analyzed together within the framework of access and
resources. That is, this book offers a different theoretical framework, in
which theories related to identity and language can all be incorporated
and articulated in a clearer fashion.
The book also offers a novel approach of studying code-switching in
which codes are analyzed as resources and individuals have different
levels of access to these resources. Individuals in a community may also
perceive each other as sharing access to resources or not sharing access to
resources. Sharing the associations of codes as resources is also essential
for a community. This new perspective can explain cases of diglossic
switching as part of code-switching in the data discussed in this work.
The concept of orders of indexicality will be employed to provide a
clearer framework of the study of diglossia in Egypt and beyond.
From a different perspective, while Arab countries are almost always
lumped together, especially by outside media, into one entity called “The
Arab World,” this book will show that Arab countries are distinct, not
just in a historical and political sense, but more importantly in the way
that they perceive themselves in relation to others. As Suleiman posits,
“nation-state identities have become entrenched in the Arabic speaking
world” (Suleiman 2011: 51). This is true to a great extent, but also the
perception of the Arab nation is called upon by public discourse at different historical stages in Egypt as part of the Arab world, as will be clear in
this book.
Note that the book concentrates on Egypt, but offers examples from
other parts of the world, particularly the Arab world. The aim of the work
is to set the reader thinking about general issues of identity. At the culmination of this book, the reader should compare the situation in Egypt
to that of his or her own country—that is, to position his or her identity
in a wider context in relation to access to resources, both linguistic and
otherwise.
I.6 Readers of this book
This book aims to adopt an interdisciplinary approach in analyzing the
relationship between language and identity in Egypt. Although the book
resorts to sociolinguistic and anthropological theories, it does so assuming no prior knowledge of the field. That is to say, the book does not
30 ]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
assume prior knowledge of Arabic or linguistics. This will make the book
accessible to a wider audience. Having said that, the book still maintains
a rigorous theoretical approach to the topics discussed and data analyzed
and will provide a modified framework of analysis, in which identity in
public discourse is situated in a social–linguistic context. Thus, it will be
of interest to sociolinguists specifically.
It should also be of interest to researchers in fields ranging from Arabic
studies, linguistics, anthropology, political science, history, psychology,
media, and communication.
Because of its focus on the intersection of language and identity, of
private and public discourse, it will provide unique material and valuable
analysis to the general public with a general interest in issues of identity,
language, and culture.
I.7 Limitations of this work
Public discourse assumes that “we all agree on who we are,” which is,
indeed, not true. It assumes unanimity where it does not exist. However,
this assumption by public discourse in Egypt is neither unexpected nor
exclusive to Egypt. Fridland, when studying African-American speakers,
also notices the same phenomenon, not just in public discourse, but also
in research about African-Americans. She posits (2003: 6):
The interpretation of such research, however, often assumes a unanimity
among African American communities, which may obscure the fact that there
are competing norms within the community which demonstrate different
levels of integration and contrast within the larger community.
As Fought (2006: 148) contends, not all members of an ethnic community
“behave” in the same way. Thus, it is almost impossible to expect that all
members of a whole country like Egypt act in completely similar ways.
The media and public discourse more generally are supposed to provide
a clear answer to a complicated question. Media has to fix an entity that
is in a perpetual state of flux: identity. A collective public identity in
Egypt provides a safety haven; it provides psychological stability for an
ever-changing social world and an economically fluctuating state. What
kept the country together for a long time may be, as Goldschmidt (2008)
puts it, the loyalty to Egypt and Egyptians, rather than to a political
system that was perceived by many as corrupt or archaic.
Loyalty to the “country” as such is related to how we define ourselves
in relation to this entity that we call the “homeland.” The definition is
not always positive, but it is mostly nostalgic and refers to “the Egyptian”
past and present.16
Introduction
[ 31
Notes
1. Al-GhȆånÈ in his most recent, award-winning novel Kitåb al-rinn—a semiautobiography—explains how he feels detached from all his surroundings,
including his immediate family. It is only with an ancient Egyptian statue
that he feels any affinity. He stares at the statue, claiming that he is a close
friend and relative, and relating his past to his present and future. This
complete identification with a three thousand-year-old statue is of great
significance.
2. Notable exceptions are the two studies by Haeri (1997; 2003); the former uses
social class as a variable to analyze Egyptian society and the latter is about
Egyptians’ attitudes towards SA and ECA. Thus, both are markedly different
in focus from the proposed study. Neither study relates language directly to
identity. In addition, neither study uses the kind of data used in this book.
3. The Tunisian pop singer La†Èfah produced a song called “The mother of the
world.” Of course, she sang the song in ECA. More recently, the metaphor
has been challenged by Arab intellectuals. A Lebanese intellectual called
Egypt “the mother of the world and the widow of cities.” This postulation
caused anger among Egyptian intellectuals (see Abd al-Salåm 2008).
4. The source for the following set of facts is the CIA World Factbook (unless
otherwise stated), https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-fact
book/geos/eg.html, accessed 14 August 2013.
5. The native monophysite Church of Egypt; see “Coptic Orthodox Church of
Alexandria.” In Encyclopedia Britannica Online Academic Edition. Online.
http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/136928/Coptic-OrthodoxChurch-of-Alexandria, accessed 7 June 2013.
6. See David Wilmsen and Manfred Woidich. “Egypt.” In Encyclopedia of
Arabic Language and Linguistics, ed. by Lutz Edzard and Rudolf de Jong. Brill
Online 2013. http://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/encyclopediaof-arabic-language-and-linguistics/egypt-COM_vol2_0001, accessed 6 May
2012.
7. The Fatimid Caliph al-Óåkim bi-Amr Allåh is said to have threatened to cut
off the tongue of Egyptian mothers who spoke to their children in Coptic. The
repressive measures taken by this ruler, together with other factors, is said
to have caused the quick death of Coptic. See “Coptic Language, Spoken.” In
The Coptic Encyclopedia, Vol. 2, ed. by Karen J. Torjesen and Gawdat Gabra:
604a–607a. Claremont, CA: Claremont Graduate University. Online. http://
ccdl.libraries.claremont.edu/cdm/ref/collection/cce/id/520, accessed 6 June
2012. Note that that the author of this particular page writes in SA. As a
linguist, one realizes that drastic measures do not have to be resorted to in
order for language death to occur. Political and economic power associated
with a language is sufficient to facilitate its spread, even if it means the death
of other languages.
32 ]
Language and identity in modern Egypt
8. Language planning refers to the efforts to manage, modify, or influence
the habitual practice of individuals as part of a community. There are two
kinds of language planning: status planning and corpus planning. Status
planning refers to the process of selecting a language or variety for use.
Corpus planning is the process by which the language or variety selected is
codified—that is, choices are made to standardize spelling, grammar, lexicon,
and so on.
9. It is important to mention at this stage that native speakers and constitutions in Arab countries do not specify what “Arabic” refers to. However, it
usually refers to Modern Standard Arabic. Native speakers also do not make a
distinction between Modern Standard Arabic and Classical Arabic. For them,
there is only one kind of Standard Arabic, which is called “fußha:.”
10. Note that this H and L labelling reflects, first, language attitudes among users
and, second, the superposed nature of the H. Likewise, it is worth mentioning
that sociolinguists may feel discomfort with these labels, since clear covert
prestige attaches so strongly to the L and also since the L has sometimes been
the target of attempts in Egypt and Lebanon among others to be considered
the national variety. This issue of territorial nationalism as opposed to panArabism will be dealt with in detail in Chapter 4.
11. Fishman (2002) defines diglossia slightly differently from Ferguson. For him,
a diglossic situation is one in which roles of both varieties are kept separate;
there are clear group boundaries between both languages and varieties. The
access to the H variety or language is usually restricted to an outsider. He
gives the example of pre-World War I European elites who spoke French or
another H language or variety, while the masses spoke a different and not
necessarily related language or variety. In his definition, the H variety or
language is a spoken standard, while in Arabic it is not the spoken variety of
any country.
12. The question of how different the two varieties should be was perhaps not
the main issue for Ferguson, who was more interested in the conditions that
could give rise to diglossia in the first place.
13. After Ferguson’s 1959 article on diglossia, Blanc (1960), BadawÈ (1973), and
Meiseles (1980) thought proposing intermediate levels between H and L
would give a more accurate description of the situation in the Arab world.
Thus, they recognized that people shift between H and L, especially when
speaking, but often do not shift the whole way, resulting in levels which
are neither fully H nor fully L. For a comprehensive critique of these levels,
see Bassiouney (2009). Another idea that sprung from Ferguson’s definition
of diglossia is that of Educated Spoken Arabic, as developed by Mitchell.
Mitchell claims that “vernacular Arabic (meaning dialectal/colloquial
Arabic) is never plain or unmixed but constantly subject to the influences
of modern times” (Mitchell 1986: 9). According to him, Educated Spoken
Arabic (ESA) is not a separate variety, but is “created” and “maintained” by
Introduction
[ 33
the interaction between the written language and the vernacular. For a more
detailed critique of this idea, see Bassiouney (2009).
14. See http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b019fxjf, accessed 14 August 2013.
15. Another joke that emerged during Mubarak’s trial in September 2011 is the
following:
Judge: What do you say to the witnesses’ testimony?
Mubrak: I have no comment.
Judge: Not even a “like”!?
16. Independent variables, such as gender, social class, and even age will not be
discussed in detail in this work, since the work aims to examine the identity
of “Egyptians”—a loose and yet inclusive term. There are a number of studies
that concentrate on some of these variables; Haeri’s (1996) study is a case in
point.
CHAPTER
1
Identity and beyond: SETTING THE
FRAMEWORK OF ANALYSIS
ZËzË: “What would you say to someone who does not answer a question?”
Professor: “If it is a question with no answer, then there is no problem if you
refuse to answer it.”
ZËzË: “Well, why didn’t you answer my question?”
Professor: “Because it is the most difficult question in the world. ‘Who are
you?’ Do you actually know how to answer it yourself? And by the way, why
do you ask me this question Miss ZËzË?”
ZËzË: “Because this is the main issue here. If someone comes to speak to me, I
need to know who he is first in order to know why he said what he said. Once
I know who you are, I will also know what you want.”
Professor: “I just noticed that your Arabic pronunciation is very good.”
(KhallÈ bålak min ZËzË, “Take care of ZËzË,”
Dir. Óasan al-Imåm, released in Egypt in 1972)
ZËzË is a young Egyptian female student who comes across as intelligent,
ambitious, bold, and yet tormented by her shameful family background.
Her mother is an old belly-dancer who lives in a lower-class Cairene
alley. While forging a different identity for herself, she is also conflicted
throughout between allegiance to her old one and struggling to maintain
a respectful new one. The moment she lays eyes upon the professor who
will be directing a play at her university, she is swept off her feet. In a
discussion session in which students write questions for the professor
to answer, she writes down the apparently simple question “man anta?”
(“Who are you?”) The professor refrains from answering. She follows him
to his car and engages him in the conversation quoted above.
A simple love story for some, this film was released at a critical time
in Egyptian history. Behind what seems like a romantic veneer, there are
[ 34 ]