Abu Sweilem in the film The Land: ‘Yes, yes… We fought together in the days of the British and the days of the regime. We went to the Levant in the dead of winter to fight, facing death head-on—without fear, without turning back. We buried our comrades in the snow with our own hands. Why? Because we were men, and we took a stand like real men.
During the 1919 revolution, we fought again alongside Saad Pasha. We burned fields, cut railway lines against the British. They shot us, imprisoned us, and some of our sons died. But we were men, and we stood firm like real men.
And in the last elections… Let’s not talk about the results. But we stood by you, Sheikh Hassouna, and followed your lead. What was the result? We were beaten, humiliated. But still, we were men, and we took a stand like real men. And now, where are we?’
An unforgettable, masterful scene written by the late Abdel Rahman al-Sharqawi—one that no one can watch without believing in the sincerity of Mahmoud al-Meligy, who carved those words into our memories as time etched deep wrinkles onto his sorrowful face.
Some recall the scene and weep. Others turn it into a joke, using it as a comic punchline to mock the superficial solidarity that binds members of a failing secondary school or a university campus that teaches just enough to produce a generation of social followers.
A scene stripped of its original meaning, reduced to a stale joke or an empty principle—standing together no matter what, whether in the right or in the wrong. The important thing is to be men and to take a stand like real men.
Last week’s media storm over Magid Shawky, the former chairman of the Egyptian stock exchange, followed the same pattern. Reports emerged that he had been summoned for questioning over allegations of mismanaging public funds during his tenure—claims made by investors who say they suffered losses due to his decisions and management style. The allegations were all too easy to believe, particularly as they coincided with his sudden, quiet replacement by a new chairman, in a move that blurred the lines between voluntary resignation and forced removal.
By the end of the week, the Egyptian stock exchange—now led by Khaled Serry, Shawky’s successor—issued a firm statement denying these reports. The exchange refuted claims that the attorney general, Abdel Meguid Mahmoud, had summoned Shouky for questioning as part of an ongoing financial investigation. The statement insisted that Shouky had not been contacted, summoned, or questioned and that all his decisions regarding trading regulations had been made in accordance with the rules and laws governing Egypt’s financial markets.
Yet, this categorical denial was even more absurd than the original reports—even if they were false. What exactly would be so scandalous about summoning Magid Shawky for questioning, or even considering it? And why was the new chairman so eager to issue a sweeping rebuttal? Is Egypt not a state of law, where anyone who believes they have been wronged has the right to file a complaint, and where the judiciary has the authority to summon the accused for investigation? Does the accused not also have the right to defend themselves and prove their innocence, if they are indeed innocent?
Or have our institutions become absurd parodies of Abu Sweilem’s speech—where blind loyalty trumps justice, and standing together matters more than being right? Have our organisations turned into private estates detached from modernity, the rule of law, and civil rights? Or perhaps those in power are simply all ‘real men’, standing firm like real men?
This article is originally published by AlBorsa in Arabic and later AI-translated by South Push.