There is more than one way to write history. It can be portrayed, for example, as a conflict between social classes or, alternatively, as a succession of imperial expansions and retreats, military victories and defeats, or waves of human progress or regression. In The Greatest Generation (1998), Thomas John (Tom) Brokaw explores the role generations play in propelling their societies towards greatness or failure, the difficult if not impossible tests they must pass to achieve the former. His book pays tribute to the American generation that had to grapple with widespread hunger and destitution during the Great Depression and then to contend with the challenges of World War II. Against all odds, over a decade and a half – from the stock market crash of 1929 to the end of the war – an entire generation shouldered the mission of leading the US from darkness to light, from adversity to greatness, from poverty to wealth, and from an emerging world power that shrank from its destiny after World War I to the world’s foremost superpower that would end the next war with the atomic bomb and go on to conquer space.
Let’s now turn to the Arab region, and the circumstances it is facing today. I would say that a new generation has come of age, one that has had to endure over half-a-century of Naksa. I am not referring here merely to the “setback” (as the term is commonly translated) of our defeat to Israel in the 1967 War, but also to the “defeat” sustained by the newly independent postcolonial Arab state. The ordeal this generation faced went far deeper than a military/political failure; it was an ideological and cultural rupture, which threw into relief forms of backwardness, occupation, and loss of direction amid such dualities as “tradition and modernity,” “war and peace,” and “development and underdevelopment.” The road forward would not be easy. The first test applied the maxim, “what has been taken by force can only be restored by force.” It took shape in the War of Attrition and then the October 1973 War. While this involved an oil component in tandem with military operations, for now I will focus on the Egyptian experience, with the understanding that its implications extend to other Arab countries, as will be seen below.
The story opens with the Egyptian generation that poured into the streets following the defeat to urge “the immortal leader Gamal Abdel-Nasser” to retract his resignation and remain in power. This generation was not passive or submissive. It was largely the product of free universal education, at a time when “free” did not mean lowering educational standards to fit the state budget. The world was changing. Literacy rates were climbing. News was coming not just in the form of print but over the air from across the planet, through radio and then television. The officers who had served in the armed forces in 1967 continued to serve in the six years that followed. They were the ones who welcomed my generation when it was our turn to learn from them – not only the art of combat, but also, more importantly, the essence of what it is to be Egyptian. No institution in Egypt teaches Egyptians about their “Egyptianness” as much as the armed forces. Not only was it a social leveller: all heads were equal. It also raised awareness of the vastness of the Egyptian space and brought together a great multiplicity people with a broad range of knowledge and expertise. Some of us came from the High Dam experience and were looking forward to the next major project, such as the Qattara Depression Project.
Army life was no vacation. Physical training, drills, manoeuvres, and military preparations were nonstop. The nights were bitterly cold during guard duty, and the days could be scorchingly hot during treks from one place to another. Despite the disappointment felt by the university graduates among us at having to postpone their post-graduation dreams, we nevertheless sensed the gravity of our mission. We were filled with a sense of purpose, which sometimes expressed itself in protests. We filled Tahrir Square with chants demanding war at a time when millions of young people were calling for “Love, Not War” and an end to the Vietnam War, where America’s “greatest generation” breathed its last. Our perspective was different. Fortunately, the Israeli enemy cared little about our existence and never sensed the difference we could make. It dismissed Ras Al-‘Ish, the destruction of the Eilat destroyer, the raids on the port of Eilat, and the War of Attrition as Egypt’s last gasps before the grave. It was therefore taken by surprise by the October 1973 War, which marked a turning point for Egyptian leadership and the shift from the “July Revolution” generation to a new outlook that espoused both a peace project with Israel and a programme of “open-door economics.”
This generation’s dreams shattered, and not only because of the assassination of Sadat. They ran aground amid the shoals of a contradiction born of those times: the drive to catch up with the modern age and the pull of a great religion as distorted by the ideas of the Muslim Brotherhood and its offshoots from Al-Qaeda to IS. Since then, a far more gruelling test has emerged. It was shaped by a succession of Gulf wars and then by the “Arab Spring,” with all its attendant anarchy and fundamentalism. What is at stake is an Arab renaissance and the pursuit of regional stability, whose next chapters will unfold in Sharm Al-Sheikh after the fifth Gaza war. This test and its potential outcomes call for a reflection on complex questions – questions that demand the attention of the young and ambitious generation living in the 21st century.
* A version of this article appears in print in the 16 October, 2025 edition of Al-Ahram Weekly
Short link: