In a twist to the unfolding drama of parliamentary election nominations within the National Democratic Party (NDP), al-Darb al-Ahmar electoral district was asked about the use of ‘crisp boxes’ for voting. The responsible responded: ‘The General Secretariat has not specified any particular type of voting box. What is required is simply that there be a designated box for voting, without defining its type or shape. This was carried out in the presence of representatives from the General Secretariat.’
This response, laden with symbolic undertones, reflects the absurdity of the NDP’s internal elections—a microcosm of the broader farce expected in the upcoming national polls.
A marketplace of chaos, where votes are bought and sold, security muscle is hired, and the scale of corruption depends on a candidate’s financial and political clout. The nature of the constituency, whether an affluent neighbourhood or an informal settlement, also dictates the dynamics.
Everything has a price, and everyone is willing to play the game. The going rate varies from a mobile recharge card to a few hundred pounds—or more, as reported by some newspapers. And it is not just money that secures votes; technology and luxury have their share of admirers among those selling their electoral voice. Some voters have reportedly traded their support for a laptop or a luxury watch. It is not just desperation that drives this behaviour. Corruption knows no boundaries of class, region, or income level. Everyone’s hands are dirty.
More astonishing, however, are those who, despite paying bribes, failed to secure victory and now wallow at the bottom of the crisp box. Some, feeling cheated, complain of injustice—perhaps because someone else paid a higher price. One candidate reportedly sent a text message to electoral college members in al-Basateen, lamenting: ‘God is my witness against those who took the money and did not give me their vote.’ Others resorted to having their supporters swear on the Quran to guarantee their loyalty. Truly, faith has been fortified!
This grim image, painted by these practices, implicates both the government and the people. It extends beyond the upcoming elections, where no surprises are anticipated. The picture becomes even bleaker when citizens themselves contribute to the darkness, selling their integrity for a mobile recharge card. What future does this country hold if such behaviour persists?
We are tired of self-flagellation through comparisons to ‘Western democracies’ with their entrenched constitutional and procedural fairness. Such comparisons are unfair. Others have tried to chastise us by comparing Egypt to emerging nations in Southeast Asia or Latin America, countries more recent than us in their history of constitutional governance. But voices have risen, calling for an end to this self-blame. Enough!
What if we compared ourselves to ourselves, but with a 90-year difference? Were there not genuine elections back then? Did the Egyptian farmer not possess the courage, wisdom, and patriotism to vote against the pasha who enslaved him, choosing instead someone who prioritised the nation’s interest above personal gain? Perhaps then, even self-flagellation would not suffice—for we have failed even to advance backwards.
This article is originally published by AlBorsa in Arabic and later AI-translated by South Push.