In the wake of a coarsening of standards in today’s Egypt, we must reclaim the best version of ourselves through education and public policy.
In recent years, Egyptian society has witnessed a disturbing and undeniable surge in violence – violence that transcends mere criminal statistics and manifests itself in daily life, public discourse, and even private interactions.
This rising tide of aggression is not limited to the usual metrics of homicide or assault. Rather, it has seeped into our treatment of the vulnerable, our digital expressions, and our responses to disagreement. Alarmingly, this violence extends not only towards fellow human beings but also toward animals, revealing a deeper rupture in our collective moral compass.
The sharp rise in brutality, verbal, physical, institutional, and symbolic, calls for more than reactive condemnation. It demands a sober and multidisciplinary examination of the forces at play. This is not just a security issue, nor merely a social one. It is a deeply layered crisis that intersects with the political, the religious, the psychological, and the cultural fabric of the nation.
To speak plainly, the Egyptian personality, renowned historically for its warmth, resilience, and wit, is evolving into a harsher, more antagonistic version of itself. The question, then, is not simply “what is happening to us?” but “how have we allowed this transformation to occur?”
The erosion of compassion in our society may be traced back to several converging dynamics: prolonged economic hardship, political uncertainty, generational disconnect, the corrosion of religious understanding, and a media environment often driven by sensationalism and confrontation. These forces, collectively, have displaced the moral and spiritual anchors that once offered a sense of communal direction.
Moreover, the normalisation of violence in entertainment, in social media feeds, and in daily conversation has contributed to a desensitised public psyche. The line between justified anger and unjustifiable aggression has been blurred, and public empathy, once a defining trait of Egyptian social behaviour, is gradually being replaced by suspicion, cynicism, and apathy.
When violence becomes endemic, it reflects more than a lapse in law enforcement or family structure. It reflects a societal breakdown in the cultivation of virtues such as kindness, patience, forgiveness, and humility. The increase in cruelty toward animals, for example, is not an isolated issue but a troubling symptom of a broader cultural malaise. It signifies a failure to inculcate mercy as a value deeply embedded in both our religious and civilisational heritage.
This alarming trend also carries political and religious implications. Politically, the inability to foster inclusive narratives and just governance contributes to the sense of alienation many feel. Religiously, the failure to promote a model of Islam centred on mercy, balance, and introspection has allowed more rigid, externalised, and performative understandings of religiosity to take hold.
In times of moral crisis, there is a temptation to call for more religion. But the real question is: what kind of religion are we summoning? If it is merely ritualistic, disconnected from ethical behaviour and social engagement, it will do little to soften hearts or elevate public conduct.
What Egypt needs is not more slogans about piety, but a return to authentic religiosity—one that mirrors the Prophetic model of gentleness, dignity, and self-restraint. This is not about a nostalgic return to the past but about reviving the timeless essence of what made Egyptian society one of the most spiritually rich and ethically grounded in the region.
The road ahead demands a national effort, one that brings together sociologists, psychologists, theologians, educators, and civil society leaders, to examine the roots of our societal aggression. This effort must be data-driven, historically informed, and future-oriented. It must also be brave enough to confront uncomfortable truths: the failures of our institutions, the neglect of youth mental health, and the gaps in moral education.
We must reclaim the best version of ourselves as a people, not through coercion or romanticised slogans, but through education, example, and public policy that affirms the dignity of every living being.
The restoration of compassion is not a luxury. It is a necessity for national stability, social cohesion, and spiritual well-being. For a nation that once taught the world the meaning of civilisation, it is time we re-taught ourselves the meaning of mercy.
*The writer is a senior adviser to the Grand Mufti of Egypt
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