Launched in 2020 by the Geneva Centre for Security Policy (GCSP), EMI has become a unique platform bringing together experts from Egypt, Türkiye, Greece, Cyprus, Palestine, Lebanon, Syria, and Israel, alongside observers from the United States, Russia, France, Germany, and Italy.
Unlike formal diplomacy, this is a Track II forum, a setting that allows participants to speak with candor, without the immediate constraints of state representation, yet informed by deep knowledge of policy and power. I have attended several EMI sessions over the past years, and each time I return, I am struck by the weight carried in the voices around me—not of rhetoric or ideology, but of lived experience, disappointments, and hopes tied to the fates of entire nations.
The region we call the Eastern Mediterranean is far more than a stretch of water connecting Africa, the Middle East, and Europe. It is a layering of civilizations, conquests, trade, and conflict. The Ottoman fleet once ruled these waters; British ships patrolled them. In the twentieth century, the region endured the wars over Palestine in 1948 and 1956, the Suez Crisis of 1956, the June 1967 war, the October 1973 war, and later the Oslo Accords in 1993.
Each chapter has left scars, some visible in maps and borders, some invisible in memory and mistrust. These historical legacies are not academic—they shape decisions in real time, influencing how governments calculate risk, how populations perceive their neighbours, and how crises escalate or are contained. The contemporary disputes over natural gas, the blockade of Gaza since October 2023, the Syrian conflict that began in 2011, and the regional rivalry between Egypt, Türkiye, and Israel are all chapters in this long, unresolved story.
At the Gaza session, I heard firsthand the fatigue of conflict. A Palestinian expert, his voice weary but unwavering, said, “People are tired. They have lived between wars and blockades for decades. Listening is not enough; action is urgent.”
Across the table, an Israeli participant responded cautiously: “Plans cannot succeed without commitment from all factions. Any breach, however small, risks escalation.”
I added a perspective from Cairo: “Our priority must be preventing the conflict from spilling into Sinai. Small, enforceable steps are better than grand promises that collapse under their own weight.” The room fell silent for a moment, each participant aware of the fragility of the situation.
The candour of these exchanges, the willingness to acknowledge both constraints and possibilities, is precisely what EMI aims to cultivate. It is here, in informal dialogue, that seeds of potential solutions can be planted before they are carried to formal decision-making tables.
The discussion on Syria underscored the complexity of reconstruction and reintegration. Nearly fifteen years into the civil war, the questions were urgent: how to stabilize domestic governance, how to facilitate regional reintegration, and how to rebuild trust with neighbours.
A Syrian expert reflected on the short-termism of prior agreements: “Agreements come and go, but the people need durable solutions. The cycles of violence erode everything else.” From Egypt, I emphasized the direct security implications: instability in Syria reverberates across Sinai and affects maritime security, trade, and regional alliances. These conversations highlighted the subtle but crucial role of Track II diplomacy: anticipating crises, proposing practical interventions, and shaping understanding long before formal negotiations are possible.
Even the session on Cyprus carried the tension of history and strategy. The election of Tufan Erhürman as Turkish-Cypriot leader brought cautious optimism alongside scepticism. A Cypriot participant noted, “Decades of suspicion cannot vanish overnight. Words mean less than deeds.” A Turkish colleague responded, “Practical solutions are needed. Historical grievances cannot dictate present strategy.” For Egypt, Cyprus’s stability is directly tied to maritime and energy security. As I reminded the group, “Eastern Mediterranean stability is not optional. Open conflict at sea jeopardizes trade routes and energy security critical to Egypt.” It was a reminder that while the dialogue is informal, the stakes are very real.
At the core of EMI’s approach is what scholars call the Theory of Change. Transformation begins not in formal institutions but in informal spaces where experts confront entrenched narratives and build networks of trust. Dialogue alone is insufficient. The theory emphasizes translating insight into practical measures: confidence-building, crisis management frameworks, maritime security cooperation, and energy collaboration. History demonstrates the power of such informal mechanisms. Post-war Europe offers the clearest example, where initial economic cooperation among governments—often preceded by non-official contacts and expert networks—laid the foundation for decades of peace.
For Egypt, this theory is particularly relevant. First, it enables crisis containment, reducing the risk of military escalation along borders, particularly in Sinai, while protecting vital maritime corridors. Second, it supports long-term regional frameworks, such as a permanent Eastern Mediterranean Cooperation Conference. Military might alone cannot ensure stability; real security comes from understanding the intentions and interests of neighbors, from building trust where suspicion has long ruled. The EMI network functions as a bridge, offering policymakers knowledge and options they might otherwise lack in moments of urgency.
What struck me most during the Sofia sessions was the human dimension of dialogue. Engaging with colleagues who carry their own histories of suffering and governance failures is profoundly humbling. Listening to narratives that differ from one’s own, acknowledging the pain and perspectives of others, is in itself a step toward breaking down walls of mistrust. One Lebanese participant observed quietly, “Engaging with alternative perspectives is itself a small act of courage. Each story heard cracks a wall that has stood for generations.” This, in essence, is the purpose of the Theory of Change: small, deliberate steps in informal spaces that, over time, can reshape political landscapes, mitigate crises, and foster cooperation.
The Eastern Mediterranean has long lived on the edge of crisis. Its challenges—historical grievances, resource competition, unresolved conflicts—are immense. Yet the experiences of EMI demonstrate that incremental change is possible. Sustained dialogue, carefully considered proposals, and networks of trust can gradually transform fear into understanding and instability into cautious cooperation. For Egypt, these efforts are inseparable from national security imperatives: protecting borders, securing maritime routes, and promoting regional stability must go hand in hand with human-centred dialogue that recognizes the shared experiences and aspirations of the region’s peoples.
Ultimately, the Theory of Change is not an abstract academic concept; it is a strategic instrument. It reminds us that even in a region shaped by centuries of conflict, small, deliberate actions can accumulate into meaningful change. In the Eastern Mediterranean, these small steps—trust-building, dialogue, listening—are essential. They may not bring immediate peace, but they create the foundations for it. In a region accustomed to living on the edge, such foundations are not optional; they are necessary for survival. The challenge is immense, but the alternative—inaction—is far worse.
*The writer is the head of the International Relations Unit and Energy Programme at Al-Ahram Center for Political and Strategic Studies.
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