Week 5 blog

This week’s readings focus on masculinity in the Arab world, using Egypt as the key example. Jacob’s chapter “Geneology” explores effendi, the idea of masculinity stemming from nationalism, and the story of Mustafa Kamil as a new ideal for Egyptian men. The term effendi was known as the “English equivalent of gentleman” and connoted a “rise above historical obscurity and the faceless mass of ordinary subjects” (45-46) until British colonial rule. In England in Egypt, Alfred Milner characterized the colonial effendi as having a “general air of dinginess and servility” (46). He suggested that the restructuring of Egyptian masculinity would come from erasing qualities such as what he referred to as the “Oriental combination of servility to those above, and arrogance to those beneath them” (48).  

            Indeed, Jacobs brings up colonialism as major contributing factor to the apparent failings of Egyptian masculinity. Farid wrote, a great man is a “nationalist who inspires others to become nationalists,” adding that “the ability to win hearts and minds over to the nationalist cause made for a great man.” (51). It’s interesting that he made that connection between the two characteristics and countered the tradition connection of a “conqueror” or “warrior” with manliness. The writer contrasts two writers on this topic. Charles François Marie in L’Egypte et Les Egyptiens tries to support the continuation of British influence based on the assumption that the Egyptians lacked national feeling and therefore manliness from “centuries of submission to foreign conquerors” (59). It’s an interesting although offensive argument that tries to tie Egyptian men’s manliness directly to the country’s history of colonial rule and makes a case for continuing this rule in order to “change” the men back. Qasim Amin’s Les Egyptiens, although a critique of Marie’s work, still “implicitly places the blame for any deficit in contemporary Egyptian masculinity squarely on the shoulders of the British occupiers” (60).  In addition, Amin writes from a European standpoint and romanticizes the Egyptian peasant man as being simple, hardworking and uncomplaining.

            Mustafa Kamil was touted as the new ideal for Egyptian masculinity. He was described poetically as being a “powerful phoenix rising from the ashes of a once majestic culture to reclaim for it its lost glory, honor, and freedom” (53). Jacobs outlines a few virtues that a “great man” is supposed to possess which include a powerful will, power of oration, and a clear and effective use of language” (52). Indeed, Farid writes that “the loudness and clarity of [Kamil’s] voice were key elements of his greatness,” especially the fact that it was “employed in both Egypt and Europe” (53)

Inhorn’s article on “Male Infertility and Stigma in Egypt and Lebanon” argues that male infertility is linked with issues relating to sexuality and therefore stigmatizes infertile males as unable to prove their “virility, paternity, and manhood” (163). Although treatment is available and can be effective, Inhorn adds that “the very technologies designed to overcome [infertility] add additional layers of stigma and cultural complexity” (163). For example, some men were worried that a child would be stigmatized if its “test tube origins” were found out. In addition, some thought that the procedure was sinful because of potential mixing of donor gametes (175).

Inhorn’s studies, which took place in Egypt and Lebanon, focused on infertility rates in IVF centers. Inhorn was worried about getting accurate information about men’s infertility. “Men in the Middle East (and beyond may deem paternity an important achievement and a major source of their masculine identity” (169). She touched on the shame that many men experience, citing the example of Ali who blamed a quickly treated sexually transmitted infection for his infertility instead of a bad smoking habit (168).

The study tries to make a case for differences between how Egyptian and Lebanese men in perceive infertility. She writes that an Egyptian man would feel “ana mish raagil – “I am not a man” – if others were to know that he was the cause of a given infertility problem” (170). In contrast, she found that the Lebanese men in her study did not equate infertility with a lack of manliness. However, Inhorn acknowledges that this finding could have been due to a high nonresponse rate and the fact that “those who did agree to participate were probably the ones who felt least diminished by their infertility” (172). I believe that the relatively high nonresponse rate could have easily led to a non-representative sample of Lebanon’s population, and that therefore Inhorn’s conclusion may be erroneous.