Why haven’t we seen any stars take the place of the Arab greats like Fairouz, Taha Hussein, Umm Kulthum and Muhammad Abdel-Wahhab? Do we have today any short storytellers of Youssef Idris’ stature? Or any novelists to match Naguib Mahfouz? Or anyone in theatre who can compare with Tawfiq Al-Hakim?

In journalism, is there anyone of Muhammad Hassanein Heikal’s standing? In cinema, can anyone match Salah Abu Seif? In sculpture, is there anyone in Mahmoud Mukhtar’s league? In visual art, does anyone shine as brightly as Abdel-Hady El-Gazzart? Or like Louis Awad in philosophy? Like Amal Dunqul in poetry? Like Dr Ali Mustafa Mosharrafa in science? Or like Talaat Harb in economics?

Alas, the answer to all these questions is no.

Are we being unreasonably hard on ourselves in asking these questions? Is this denial merely a reflection of the blindness of those on the ground?

I don’t think so.

Has any book over the past 50 years had anything like the impact of Taha Hussein’s “Pre-Islamic poetry” when it was published in 1927?

So what is the reason for this? It doesn’t make sense. Surely, there are young voices that can compare with those of Fairouz, Umm Kulthum, Layla Murad and Asmahan? So why don’t we hear them? Where are the composers in the mould of Riad Al-Sunbati, Baligh Hamdi, Mohamed El-Mougi and Mohamed Al-Qasabji?

Let me try to shed light on some of the reasons.

Cities that foster creativity and innovation

Cities play a major role in the process of inventiveness and innovation. The environment and the relationships that are created within that space provide the impetus for the spawning of new ideas. Equally, cities can play the opposite role in suppressing novel ideas. The issue is about more than whether one political system promotes creativity or not.

Let us take a look at how a city like Budapest in the first quarter of the twentieth century provided a vital platform for the emergence of many greats who had a significant influence over the course of the last century. Notable among them was the physicist Leo Szilard, who was one of the first to develop ideas for nuclear chain reaction in 1933, and John von Neumann, the mathematician and physicist who made major contributions to quantum mechanics.

Closer to home, let’s take the case of Alexandria during the same period; it was also a place where innovative thinking developed. It is enough to mention Sayyid Darwish, Bayram Al-Tunisi, Tawfiq Al-Hakim and Mahmoud Said, whose stars all shone brightly during this rich phase in Alexandria’s history.

As an attractive city for all kinds of specialist talents from a broad mix of races, Alexandria provided a positive cultural and physical environment that allowed people to develop their ideas. Creativity does not fall from the sky in the same way an apple falls and an idea emerges. Innovation requires a network of people to provide a catalyst for the development of talent. Sayyid Darwish needed Badi’ Khairy, and both of them needed Najib Al-Rihani. And the three of them needed dozens of others to bring their creativity to the fore.

In the first half of the twentieth century, Egypt was an attractive place for Armenians, Levantine Arabs, Italians and Greeks, among others. If we look at the worlds of cinema, music, theatre or academia, we find dozens of different ethnicities, all of whom contributed to this rise in the arts. It was the same in Paris and New York in the first quarter of the twentieth century – both cities that drew artists to them.

Does any Egyptian or Arab city currently offer the right environment for nurturing new ideas?

Not one does, that’s for certain. There are no serious spaces for dialogue and exchange. Scientific and cultural institutions are out-dated, in poor shape and have inadequate budgets. Educational and artistic endeavour lacks the sort of modern techniques that support original thinking. And school education is, as we all know, based on rote-learning. We simply do not have the right environment for fostering innovation.

Openness to big questions and new ideas

In the first half of the last century, Egypt was in a state of intellectual and cultural foment. Questions arose about identity. There was a quest to discover the secrets of Egyptian civilization. Questions arose about Egypt’s place within Mediterranean civilization, its place vis-à-vis political Islam and its place in the Arabic-speaking world. New questions were being asked, and intellectual currents such as Marxism, Islamism and fascism appeared. The feminist movement came into being, as did the labour movement. There was a general consensus about the need to delve into the corpus of history and thought. Within this milieu, which was generally supportive of civil rights, societal debate was possible, and this in turn fuelled creative energies. Debate was even possible in cases that led to ostracism and intimidation, which is what befell Sheikh Ali Abdel Razek after the publication of his book “Islam and the Fundamentals of Governance”. This notwithstanding, the book did what the author wanted and it enriched the dialogue across society about the question of the succession in Islam and about the Caliphate.

Over the past half-century, there has been a general trend in politics to prevent examination of the big questions. Those who have executive power set the questions and hold in their hands the keys to all the answers. A dark fate awaits anyone seeking to raise issues that make political leaders feel uncomfortable.

Transparency and tolerance vs. introspection and extremism

A few days ago, I read that the Algerian president had issued a decree granting Algerian citizenship to Pierre Audin. He is the son of Maurice Audin, who was a French mathematician and member of the Algerian Communist Party who fought for the independence of Algeria before being killed by the French occupying forces when he was 25 years old.

Many Algerians have expressed their disquiet about granting Algerian citizenship to a non-Muslim Frenchman. It is a position that clearly shows how inward-looking and extremist many Arabs are. This same introspective attitude was evident in the case of an Egyptian journalist who was talking to French journalist Alain Gresh in a traditional cafe in downtown Cairo. What happened was oddly painful: a woman who had been eavesdropping on their conversation went up to a policeman to warn him about a possible Egyptian spy giving the country’s secrets to a prying foreigner. Sadly, the policeman actually approached Gresh and the female journalist and asked her to accompany him to the police station. There is this terrifying fear of the Other. How can ideas be nurtured in such an environment? The world’s ceiling has fallen in and broken our bones.

By contrast, let us consider the song “Boukhmar Khanfashar”, the lyrics of which were written by Badi’ Khairy and the music composed by Sayyid Darwish: in it we find Levantine Arabic, Turkish, Egyptian and Greek voices all present in the text.

Iranian artist Shirin Neshat breaks new ground

No more exile, no more mourning for a lost homeland. In her latest film “In Search of Oum Kulthum” the well-known director Shirin Neshat recalls a legendary Egyptian singer.

An Arab icon: Shirin Neshat is considered a feminist. Whatʹs more, she is one of Iranʹs most successful female artists. For years she dedicated her photo series and videos to the themes of exile and homeland. Now, however, she is breaking new ground: in the film “In Search of Oum Kulthum” she presents her own personal view of the legendary Egyptian singer

Getting beyond the myth: Mitra, an Iranian director, shoots a film about Oum Kulthum. How can she approach this icon as a foreigner? In an attempt to discover the woman behind the legend, she gradually finds herself in a crisis. The “real” director Shirin Neshat asks questions with her film: what do female artists sacrifice for their careers? To what extent can they meet othersʹ expectations without losing themselves?

“I must behave like a man”: the film has taken Shirin Neshat years to make. She wasn’t allowed to shoot in Iran, so she went to Morocco. With a 26-man, multi-national team – no small feat. Like Oum Kulthum, she is usually surrounded by men: cameramen, authors, producers. But she achieves what she wants – purposefully, persistently, without having to raise her voice

Women are her focus: her debut feature film “Women Without Me” (2009) followed four very different women. All free themselves in their own way: from the patronising brother, the patronising man, from the brothel mother. They meet in a magical garden: surreal meets political. The film is set in Iran in 1953, at the time of the military coup supported by the CIA

Photos that break the mould: Shirin Neshat was studying art in the USA when the Islamic Revolution threw Iran into turmoil in 1979. She was unable to return to her homeland, which was to become the trauma of her life. In the 1990s, when she finally visited Iran, everything had changed. Her answer: photos of women, veiled, armed, face, feet, hands, painted over with Persian texts. The work marked her international breakthrough

No more nostalgia: exile in the USA and her lost home have dominated Shirin Neshat’s work for years. In 2016, she produced the video “Roja”. As in her dreams, the young woman is pushed back by her mother, who stands for her homeland and looks forward. Shirin Neshat knew that there was no going back to Iran for her

Grand Opera: a great artistic challenge for Shirin Neshat. Having no idea of opera, she was commissioned to stage “Aida” for the Salzburg Festival in 2017, with opera diva Anna Netrebko and Riccardo Muti as conductor. Neshat designed a new stage sets: Aida, the Ethiopian king’s daughter, is seen in Egypt as “the foreigner”, a victim of religious and political fanaticism

Time for a change in perspective: 2017 was Shirin Neshatʹs most successful year to date: international exhibitions, her new film and the “Praemium Imperiale” in Tokyo for her life’s work. Despite having lived in New York for over 40 years, she once again feels marginalised since Trump took office. She is working on a new film about exiled Iranian women in the USA. Once again the film will be about her – from a different perspective

Support for young talent

After completing his studies at the Higher Teachers’ College in 1917, the Egyptian Ministry of Public Education paid for Ali Mustafa Mosharrafa to go on a scientific mission to Britain. The 1919 revolution erupted after he got his degree in mathematics, but when he expressed a desire to go back to Egypt, one of the leaders of the revolution told him: “We need you more as a scientist than as a revolutionary”. Dr Mosharrafa eventually returned to Egypt with his PhD in General Sciences in 1924 to work as an associate professor in applied mathematics at the Faculty of Science. He was made a professor in 1926, before he was even thirty years old, contrary to Egyptian University law. It is clear from Mosharrafa’s story that he was fully supported from the moment he excelled at school until he became the first Egyptian dean of the Faculty of Science.

Yes, we continue to send our PhD students abroad, but that is not the only kind of support which the foremost scholars and thinkers need. The road to success needs on-going support for those who have the ability to make that most difficult ascent to the summit. This is not something I have seen happen in this world. Those who get the support are the sons of officials, servants of power, and those who lick the shoes of the leaders into submission.

Imagine a skilled zither player performing masterpieces while accompanied by a mediocre band producing loud, intrusive sounds with trumpets. Or a chemist working on a new formula for a cure while someone spills water all over the experiment. Or a poet writing a verse while being inundated with countless letters that have no meaning save that they are all banal.

This is my own experience. How can any bright idea flourish in this environment, which is so detrimental to thinking and originality?

Khaled Al-Khamissi

Translated from the German by Chris Somes-Charlton