|
By
Ursula Lindsey
Every
Ramadan is more or less the same. People are tired, traffic
is bad. Every day at dusk, thankful families gather at home
to break their day-long fast. And afterwards, they indulge in
another holiday tradition: Ramadan soap operas. This year saw
the usual glut of such entertainment, produced in time to take
advantage of captive, digesting audiences. About a 100 of the
30-episode TV shows (one episode per night of Ramadan) were
produced for the month-long holiday.
As usual,
critics and audiences bemoaned the overall low quality of the
Ramadan musalsalat (TV series). Egyptian productions—long
the leaders in the field—came in for particularly heavy
criticism. But every year there are a few shows that jump out
as “controversial” or at the very least “serious.”
This year, these happened to be shows about terrorism.
These programs
certainly were more engaging and more thoughtful than most.
But far from breaking the mould, they are part of a well-established
tradition in which Arab governments use the medium of the Ramadan
soap opera to educate the public about issues they deem important.
Ramadan musalsalat, which reach audiences of millions
in the Arab world, are monitored carefully by Middle Eastern
authorities. The popular “terrorist” theme of this
year’s musalsalat reflected an eagerness on the
part of governments facing problems with Islamists to spread
an anti-terrorism message.
One of the
serials to get the most attention was the Syrian production
Al Hawr Al Ayn (Maidens of Paradise). The title refers
to the 72 virgins the Koran promises to martyrs and the series
portrays the 2003 bombing of a residential complex in Saudi
Arabia from the point of view of the victims. The real-life
bombing led to 17 Arab deaths, including seven Lebanese, four
Egyptians, two Saudis and two Sudanese. More than 122 were wounded.
Al Hawr
Al Ayn focused on a number of families from across the
Arab world (Syrian, Egyptian, Saudi, Lebanese, Jordanian and
Moroccan) who the audience knew would fall victim to the attacks
by the end of the series. The show juxtaposed detailed accounts
of these families’ lives, relationships and troubles with
sequences from camps in which rigid fundamentalists indoctrinated
the young terrorists who later carried out the attacks. The
story was narrated in flashbacks by a Syrian woman maimed in
the fire, and focused in particular on a young Saudi man who
was torn between the teachings of two different Sheikhs, one
moderate and one militant.
Al Hawr
Al Ayn was directed by the famous Syrian director Nagdat
Anzour. One of the show’s three scriptwriters, Abdullah
Al Otaybi, is a former member of Al Qaeda who repented and now
educates the public about the dangers of extremism. The show
provoked controversy in Saudi Arabia, where it was attacked
in the press and especially on Islamist Web sites. Some imams
reportedly warned the faithful against watching it. Islamists
also petitioned the king to ban the show, to no avail. In fact,
it appears the show’s scriptwriters benefited from the
cooperation of Saudi authorities, as they were given access
to archive documents and information from the actual 2003 investigation.
Because
of the controversy, the Saudi satellite channel MBC, which aired
the show, ended up releasing a statement, reading in part: “Our
choice of this title from the Koran in no way aims to ridicule
the Maidens of Paradise but rather to show how religion is diverted
from its initial mission and [to show] that the attacks committed
in its name are nothing other than acts of terrorism, which
are prejudicial to it [religion].”
Another
show, Tariq Al Waer (The Difficult Road), also dealt
directly with terrorism. It revisited the fraught territory
of last year’s cancelled Tariq Ila Kabul (The
Road to Kabul), a show on mujahideen (religious warriors)
in Afghanistan in the 1990s that managed to anger both the US
government and Islamists and was subsequently taken off the
air. Tariq Al Waer told the story of a journalist in
Afghanistan who is at first supportive of and then disillusioned
by the cause of the mujahideen. The Emirati show, written
by Gamal Abu Hemdane and directed by Shawui al-Magri, aired
exclusively on Abu Dhabi TV.
The Arab
press complimented these shows for tackling serious issues,
while the Western press featured several articles on the subject
of their supposedly “surprising” choice of subject.
Yet this is hardly the first time that musalsalat have
tackled terrorism. In fact, according to Egyptian screenwriter
Mohammed Amer, “One of the most important things soap
operas have done is encourage the public to condemn terrorism.”
Far from considering terrorism a “new” or cutting-edge
topic, Amer and his colleagues in Egypt seem to consider the
subject decidedly passé. Over the years, several Egyptian
films, TV series and movies have in fact dealt with this subject.
These include the 1997 film Al Irhabi (The Terrorist),
the 1993 comedy Al Irhab wal Kebab (Terrorism and Kebab),
as well as the famous 1993 musalsal Al Aileh (The Family).
Al Aileh, by Wahid Hamid, dealt with terrorism by the
militant group Gamaa Islamiya in Upper Egypt, and took three
years to get by the censors. Nonetheless, it clearly had at
least partial governmental support or it would never have been
aired on Egyptian TV at all.
Musalsalat
are produced with government cooperation and oversight (both
in Egypt and Syria), and subjects that aren't government-approved
rarely are broached. In fact, the synergy between Arab governments
and the Arab media often can blur the line between entertainment
and propaganda. In 2000, for example, Egyptian screenwriter
Wahid Hamed was actually asked by Information Minister Sawfat
Sherif to write a show promoting tolerance between Muslims and
Christians. The result was the highly controversial Awan
Al Ward (The Time of Flowers), in which Egyptian superstar
Youssra played the daughter of a Christian woman and Muslim
man who decided to raise their children Muslim. This particular
project backfired. Far from promoting “national unity”
as Sherif and Hamed had hoped, it incensed Christian (and to
a lesser extent Muslim) authorities with remarks such as, “We
need a third religion: love.”
Despite
the failure of some such government-supported endeavours, the
point remains that Arab governments, who retain almost complete
control over the subject of Ramadan soap operas, only allow
screenwriters to broach such “controversial’ subjects
as they deem necessary. It was no coincidence that a show such
as Al Aileh was allowed to be aired in the early ’90s,
at a time when the Egyptian government was waging a full-scale
battle against terrorist groups in Upper Egypt.
Similarly,
it is understandable that nowadays Syria is the country producing
a show like Al Hawr Al Ayn that condemns terrorists,
and that a Saudi channel is airing it. The Syrian government
is one of the most secular in the region. In 1982, Syrian authorities
ruthlessly crushed an Islamist rebellion in the town of Hama,
and ever since, they have been overtly hostile to all Islamist
groups. The Saudi government, on the other hand, has been taking
pains to condemn extremism and terrorism, ever since a string
of terrorist attacks took place on Saudi soil in the last few
years. As Wahid Hamed, the screenwriter of Al Aileh,
told the Christian Science Monitor recently, Saudi
channels never considered airing his show when it was produced
in 1993. But in the last few years it has been aired often,
he says.
Egyptian,
Syrian and Saudi media have each, at different times, resorted
to similar depictions of terrorists as either tragically misguided,
hateful, ignorant or simply ridiculous. Another popular Saudi
Ramadan comedy, Tash Ma Tash (Whatever Comes Comes),
regularly portrays Islamists as ignorant fanatics and bumbling
idiots, leading Islamist groups to send death threats to the
show’s producers. One episode that particularly irkedIslamists
portrayed the arguments within a small Saudi village when some
villagers wanted to install electricity and paved roads. The
conservative village sheikhs were shown as arguing against such
modernization. One religious leader warned that the paved road
would be like “a huge black snake coming from hell.”
But Arab
governments’ willingness to talk about terrorism should
not lead one to assume that Ramadan soap operas have the freedom
to discuss other controversial subjects as well. Since most
soap operas are produced by, or in cooperation with, government
institutions (such as Egypt’s Media Production City),
TV crews need to clear government censors to be allowed to film
and to be aired on any of the government-controlled terrestrial
and satellite channels. Even in the case of a show that is privately
produced and aired on a privately owned satellite channel, governments
still exercise all manner of pressures on directors, screenwriters,
actors and producers. “The problem in Egypt is that production
is governmental,” explains Mohammed Hammad, a young screenwriter.
“There are no freedoms. There are no new subjects …
Egypt does a lot of soap operas every year because there’s
advertising and money to be made, [but] any new idea is rejected.”
In fact,
censorship of soap operas actually appears to have increased
lately, at least in Egypt. Last year, Minister of Information
Minister Mamdou El Beltagui instituted a new High Drama Committee
to oversee the selection of Ramadan soap operas to be aired
on Egyptian terrestrial and satellite channels. This year, El
Beltaqui’s successor Anas al-Fiqqi renamed the group the
Committee to Choose Ramadan Productions. Showing characters
drinking or in sexual situations has always been discouraged.
This year, smoking was also blacklisted, but of course there
are much more serious no-no’s. “We don’t live
in a democratic society,” Egyptian screenwriter Bashir
el-Diqq told TBS. “Because of this we have to be very
cautious in our subjects. [Dealing directly with] politics and
religion and sex is forbidden.”
Thus Leila
Elwi’s Bint Min Shubra (Girl From Shubra), produced
two years ago, has yet to be aired. The serial was banned because
it allegedly had the potential to enflame sectarian tensions
by telling the story of a Christian woman who falls in love
with a Muslim. This year, it was the turn of Al Mansouria,
which was banned from all Egyptian TV channels for the bizarre
reason that, according to the council, “the director did
not accurately reflect the spirit of the writing.” The
writer, Faiz Ghali, didn’t agree, but this didn’t
matter, because the real problem was the show’s main subject,
corruption. The makers of Al Mansouria filed a complaint
with the Egyptian Ministry of Information, to no avail. “The
real reason it was banned,” says Egyptian film and TV
critic Magdi Tayyeb, “was that it exposes the corruption
of businessmen and the security apparatus and other classes
such as doctors.” Apparently corruption, rather than terrorism,
is a truly explosive subject on Egyptian TV.
In fact,
so are almost all other substantive social and political issues.
As TV and film director Khairi Beshara noted, “Most serials
are commercial. They don’t take a deep look at political
or social issues.” Instead, the majority play it safe
and deal with family and personal relationships, like this year’s
hit Sara, starring Hanan Turk in a Cinderella story
about a girl who is mentally retarded due to a childhood trauma
. Or the Youssra vehicle Ahlam Aadiya (Ordinary Dreams)
which occupied one of Egyptian TV’s prime-time slots with
the story of a golden-hearted con artist in constant need of
a new disguise. Otherwise, there are historical dramas that
tend to highlight heroic figures and glorious moments in Middle
Eastern history. Shows sometimes deal with foreign relations,
notably the Arab-Israeli conflict, but they do so in ways that
are palatable to the public and to ruling regimes, as in the
case of the popular Rafat Al Hagan, a drama about a
successful Egyptian spy in Israel.
Such uncontroversial,
light fare may satisfy government censors, but it faces increasingly
harsh criticism with audiences and critics. Soap operas in Egypt
in particular are going through a real identity crisis as Egyptian
soaps begin to lose ground to their Syrian rivals. “Egyptian
TV drama becomes famous for its failure,” read a headline
in the cultural newspaper Al Qahira of 1 November.
“They sold out viewers to advertising agencies and those
who commodify art,” added the subhead. In the last days
of Ramadan, the popular Egyptian TV show Al Beit Beitak
dedicated a show to analyzing and bemoaning “the problem
with Egyptian musalsalat.” Unflattering comparisons
frequently were drawn between Syrian shows such as Al Hawr
Al Ayn and Egyptian offerings.
The Syrian
superiority remains mainly one of execution rather than ideas.
As argued above, their choice of subjects is not actually that
innovative. But the feedback on shows such as Al Hawr Al
Ayn shows that both Arab screenwriters and directors and
Arab audiences are eager to tackle “serious” subjects.
The reaction to this year’s dismal selection, in Egypt
in particular, indicates that audiences are losing their patience
with being force-fed irrelevant, mediocre dramas. The growth
of satellite TV means they have more choices and are going to
take advantage of them.
It is undoubtedly
a good thing for Arab countries—especially Saudi Arabia—to
support media that questions, criticizes and teases the most
ridiculous and intransigent variations of Islam. But how effective
such presentations will be with Arab audiences is another question.
Long used to receiving government propaganda in one form or
another, audiences may well wonder why none of the “anti-terrorism”
shows hold governments themselves responsible, or address root
problems of corruption, political stagnation or economic disparity.
All these subjects remain resolutely taboo. Now if only Arab
governments would let people talk about all “controversial”
subjects—not just the ones it is in their interest to
raise at the moment.
Ursula Lindsey is a journalist
based in Cairo. She is a frequent contributor to the BBC radio
program The World and to other local and international
print and radio media. She was culture editor of Cairo
magazine and writes a regular column on Middle East culture
for the Web site www.popmatters.com.
[printer
friendly version]
|