Shamei Asaad is neither a Coptic intellectual nor an activist. He is a Christian engineer who grew up in a typical Egyptian middle-class family in the Mediterranean city of Alexandria. Frustrated with what he sees as discrimination against Copts on the one hand and Christian passivity on the other, the 40-year-old took it upon himself to break the silence and unveil the concerns of his coreligionists from a layman's perspective in a book entitled “The Christian Ghetto.”
“I am writing this book not to hurt but to heal,” Asaad writes in the introduction. “The Christian Ghetto” first came out last year and attracted wide media attention for its succinct depiction of the gritty details of contentious Muslim-Christian encounters.
Unlike traditional works that deal with the Coptic question using political and legal jargon, “The Christian Ghetto” presents anecdotes in simple language that attest to a growing sectarian animosity. Being forced to use Islamic greetings, to listen to radical cassettes condemning Copts in taxicabs, and having to tolerate the increasing Islamization of public space are among the most flagrant daily experiences of the Christian minority, according to Asaad’s book.
Speaking from his tiny apartment in a popular Alexandrian neighborhood, Asaad holds that the gradual accumulation of similar encounters has encouraged Christians to isolate themselves.
“These details overwhelm Copts in a negative way and make them feel discriminated against and rejected,” said Asaad, placing the blame for Muslim-Christian tensions on conservative Wahhabi thinking, which has become increasingly prevalent in Egypt since the 1970s.
The book recounts the true story of a young Christian Alexandrian boy who, when he cordially asked the driver of a public bus to drop him off at a local church in Alexandria, was scolded and mocked. Asaad, who was on the same bus, said, “I felt sad because I could sense how badly the boy was humiliated but I could not do anything to help him. I kept blaming myself for not having intervened. I could have embarrassed the driver and done justice to the boy. But I was hesitant to do so because I knew that raising such issues in public could be very sensitive,” writes Asaad.
Asaad first expressed his views on the Coptic question on his blog “Paper Clips,” which he started in 2006. Three years later, a local publisher, Dawen, approached the blogger and asked him to write a book on Coptic concerns. “The Christian Ghetto” hit the market in January 2010, and in less than a year went into its second printing.
The 137-page book also seeks to refute assertions made by many Egyptians who deny that they discriminate against Copts. Such apologists claim that, because many Copts dominate the lucrative business sector, they are not persecuted. But the book counters that many Copts resort to private enterprise because they are generally excluded from the public sector.
For decades, the Coptic intelligentsia has been complaining about discrimination. Restrictions on building churches, the uncivil nature of the state and the exclusion of Copts from crucial public posts have been the main bones of contention.
Asaad’s book attempts to show how this institutionalized discrimination applies to the majority of everyday Copts. According to the book, discouraged by aspects of inequality, lay Copts end up isolating themselves and living in their own “ghettos.” In Asaad’s opinion, this attitude must be reversed–Copts must engage in society and speak out. But they need Muslim encouragement first, he says.
“Who should get Copts out of their ghetto? It is Muslims who should take the initiative because they constitute the majority that has an obligation to embrace the minority,” writes Asaad.
In the meantime, Asaad sharply criticizes the Coptic Church’s attitude regarding the Coptic question. He contends that the church’s discourse only serves to exacerbate the alienation of the Coptic community, which is estimated to account for nearly ten percent of Egypt’s population of 80 million.
“The dominant discourse promoted by the church suggests that we do not belong to this world and our true world is in heaven,” said Asaad. “This makes the Copt feel estranged in his own country."
In this regard, his wife, Sabrin Fakhri, agreed with her husband. “If anyone complains, he will be told that Christians have to face problems in this world,” said the 36-year-old IT specialist.
“Copts end up seeing oppression as a normal thing. This is what they teach my son at church, but I try to inculcate other values in him,” added Fakhri, a mother of two.
Thousands of Copts have recently defied the church’s traditional line of thinking. Earlier this month, Egypt was rocked by Coptic demonstrations condemning the Mubarak regime after a bombing killed 25 people outside an Alexandria church on New Year’s Eve. Protesters took to the streets in several provinces, accusing the government of failing to protect the nation's churches. Some of these demonstrations turned violent after protesters clashed with police and damaged property.
The protests followed earlier clashes that erupted between Copts and police over the suspension of renovation work on a church building in Giza in November.
“Now, Copts have a voice because the young generation is different and rebellious. This generation refuses everything around us, including the church's own discourse,” said Fakhri.
For decades, the Coptic Church has encouraged followers to throw their support behind the ruling regime for fear that any change to the status quo could bring Islamists to power. But the Asaads refuse to submit to this logic.
“Why would we support the status quo? Do you think we are happy with it?” Asaad asked rhetorically.
“We are like all Egyptians; we dream of change. We dream of social justice, equality and law enforcement. This can only be achieved under a true democracy,” he added.
