Farouk Al-Awal wa A’rsh Masr – Bozough Wa’ed wa Ofoul Hazine: 1920-1965 (Farouk and the Throne of Egypt: A Promising Rise and Saddening Demise – 1920-1965), Latifa Mohamed Salem, Dar El Shorouk, Cairo, 2007, pp.259
On 26 July 1952, just three days after being deposed by the Free Officers, King Farouk—Egypt’s last monarch and the final ruler of the Mohamed Ali dynasty, which had governed since the early 19th century—boarded the royal yacht Al-Mahroussa for a final departure from the country he had ruled since 1937.
Until he died in exile in Europe 60 years ago, at the age of 45, Farouk remained a figure of lingering national resentment—partly due to the defamation campaigns launched by the new republican regime, for better or worse, and partly because of the widespread disillusionment that had already taken root during the final decade of his rule.
Over the years, from his ouster to the present, Farouk has been the subject of numerous volumes in Arabic, French, and English, each attempting to examine his reign, his eccentricities, his palace life, and even the nature of his death, often described as tragic, and at times framed as mysterious.
Among these many works, Latifa Mohamed Salem’s Farouk Al-Awal wa ‘Arsh Masr – Bozough Wa’ed wa Ofoul Hazine: 1920–1965 stands out as one worth returning to.
First published in 2005 and reissued in 2007 as part of Al-Shorouk’s Egyptian History Revisited series, Salem’s 259-page book offers a layered reading of the making, unmaking, and remaking of Egypt’s last king—a ruler once embraced by the public with high hopes, and later cast aside with equal certainty.
Salem’s account follows Farouk’s life almost chronologically—from his birth on 11 February 1920 to an ill-matched royal couple, King Fouad and Queen Nazli; through his formal assumption of power on 29 July 1937 as King of Egypt and Sudan (before Sudanese independence); through the February 1942 crisis, his deposition by the 23 July Revolution, and finally his death in Rome on 18 March 1965.
With her title grounded in archival material—most notably the volumes of the British Archives and the cables dispatched by successive British honorary representatives in Cairo—Salem offers the reader a broad spectrum of perspectives on the political context surrounding Farouk’s life, reign, and exile.
Her narrative keeps close watch on the evolving scenes within the royal palace, the office of the British representative, and the headquarters of the Wafd Party—particularly under the leadership of Mostafa El-Nahas, who had taken the reins in 1927 following the death of the party’s historic leader, Saad Zaghloul, and who would go on to serve as prime minister under both Fouad and Farouk until the king’s eventual ouster.
Unlike other books that try, sometimes too eagerly, to reconstruct Farouk’s character through scattered anecdotes and speculative psychoanalysis—often centred on his well-known mood swings, caprices, compulsions, and obesity—Salem’s work is, at its core, an attempt to piece together a sequence of Egyptian historical chapters, with Farouk positioned at the very centre of a rapidly moving narrative.
Farouk was born just two years before Egypt gained what was then described as ‘nominal’ independence in February 1922, marking the end of the British protectorate imposed at the outbreak of the First World War. A year later, the country would see the drafting of its first-ever constitution.
Then, just four months after he was declared successor to his father, King Fouad—who died on 28 April 1936—came the signing of the Anglo-Egyptian Treaty on 26 August 1936, marking yet another step towards greater Egyptian autonomy from the British occupation that had begun in 1882.
Salem’s book on the rise and fall of Farouk offers a multi-dimensional reading of the country’s political landscape, capturing the relentless tug of war between Farouk and El-Nahhas, alongside Britain’s shifting stances in this long and layered bras-de-fer.
Without expressing particular sympathy or antipathy towards Farouk, the monarchy, or their adversaries, Salem tells the story of a young boy raised to be king by a stern and calculating father, and who ascended the throne too early, not yet eighteen.
As king, Salem presents Farouk as someone who swiftly won the affection and trust of his people, who, at the very least, appreciated that he was the opposite of his father, Fouad, a monarch who neither spoke Arabic nor showed much interest in the lives of ordinary Egyptians.
In Salem’s telling, Farouk, the young king, was pleased to be loved—and willing to invest in expanding this emotional capital through outreach that cut across social strata, with particular attention to workers, farmers, and university students.
Yet Salem leaves the reader to reflect on the fundamental foundations of the political success Farouk enjoyed in his first five years on the throne, before the pivotal events of February 1942, when British tanks surrounded the Abdine Palace to compel the king to appoint El-Nahas as prime minister.
Without stating it outright, Salem seems to suggest that Farouk’s early successes—what she refers to in her title as a “promising rise”—owed less to the young monarch himself and more to the manoeuvrings of two shrewd political operators: Ahmed Hassanein Pasha, appointed by King Fouad to supervise the crown prince’s education in the UK and later chief of the royal Diwan and Chamberlain under Farouk; and Ali Maher, a jurist and seasoned politician who served both as prime minister and as advisor to the king.
It was Hassanein and Maher, Salem indicates, who skilfully played the British honorary representative against El-Nahas and vice versa—and who managed to secure for Farouk the loyalty of key figures, including Sheikh Moustafa Al-Maraghi of Al-Azhar and senior officers in the Egyptian army.
The waning influence of both men—especially after Hassanein died in 1946—Salem indicates, coincided with Farouk’s growing arrogance, which led him to disregard the fundamentals of the constitution, turn a blind eye to the spread of corruption (and, indeed, become complicit in it), and betray the very people who, amid a deepening economic crisis, were suffering while the king maintained a life of extravagant luxury.
In tracing Farouk’s years in exile, Salem does not present a monarch wracked with remorse or regret, but rather one who, for several years at least, remained convinced it was only a matter of time before he would reclaim his lost throne.
Salem’s book refrains from glorifying anyone—neither the king, nor his rivals, nor even the Free Officers. Instead, it honours the Egyptian people, who were willing to place their hopes in the young king until he failed to meet the nation’s aspirations, prompting widespread support for his overthrow and the abolition of the monarchy altogether.
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