When a UAE-based Palestinian friend sends me a link to the Emirati singer Hussein Al-Jassmi's hit Boshret Khair (or “Good Tidings”), I wonder what she finds remarkable about the video. After Tesslam Al-Ayadi (or “Saved be the hands”), Boshret Khair — written by the mainstream lyricist Ayman Bahgat Kamar and composed by the notoriously anti-“revolution”, conspiracy-theorising musician Amr Mustafa — is the second and by far the more tasteful anthem of 30 June-3 July 2012. Its aim is to encourage a high turnout in the presidential elections, to bolster up the legitimacy of the current democratic process. Quoting the lyrics, “Don't begrudge [Egypt] your vote,” my friend turns out to be taken with the irony of Egyptians being urged onto the ballots by a citizen in a country where no voting is allowed whatsoever. She seems to find dark humour in the fact. Evidently unbeknown to her, others have already found all kinds of humour in Al-Jassmi's original music video, where the visuals are arguably more significant than Mustafa's disco-ish jingle. Any number of YouTube clips can be found in which the abrupt acceleration in tempo of the tune is synchronised with scenes echoing the sudden shift from deep poignancy to explosive silliness. They are taken not only from cartoons and advertisements but also from football matches, black-and-white films, recent stage and screen comedies — everything. The effect of someone looking very serious before they suddenly break into ludicrous movement is instant and almost reflexive, and perhaps that is why it isn't always clear what the message of a given remake of the original video is, whether its maker is for or against the election (and, by inevitable extension, one of only two candidates expected to win it). Unlike Tesslam Al-Ayadi, after all, Al-Jassmi's Happy-like original does avoid being too prescriptive or peremptory. Even Jean-Claude Van Damme, who praised the Egyptian sense of humour on the occasion, was seen merrily dancing to Boshret Khair online. The song feels manipulative, as well it might. Like so many Mobinil ads — indeed, like JCVD himself — it is commercial, manufactured, and hollow: an over-persuasive argument for buying a product that will prove at best unnecessary. Yet the laboured casualness and the fast-paced cheer in the sight of Egyptians in all their various looks, dress codes and environments dancing, smiling and waving as they bear signs does strike a balance. You can be optimistic and hopeful, it seems to say, even as you face the weighty implications of this being a landmark historical event. Separating out some of the words being sung, the signs borne by the characters bear not only the names of the geographic and ethnic provinces they hail from, which Kamar lists pell-mell, but also the injunction to “Participate”, to “Vote” and to have things “Your way”. They bear the unequivocal statement that, whatever else is the case, “Our hopes are high”. Rather than sheer slapstick comedy or the irony of a democratic process backed by undemocratic countries, the humour for me arises from the fact that, while the song is self-evident propaganda, it contains no politics at all. Since it does not divulge its otherwise all too obvious intentions, the song hands itself over to interpretation. It becomes easy to separate its content from its purpose — especially where Final Cut is used to replace that content. Someone could be making fun of Boshret khair and look like they were having fun with it, and vice versa. I find this humorous because, just like the democratic process it is promoting — and I am not saying that either song or process could do otherwise, under the circumstances — Boshret khair steers clear of the questions that matter in order to promote a nonexistent and timeless but very attractive-looking state of being: a space where safety, prosperity and the positive mingling among multiple groups of fulfilled people can be taken for granted. Like song, like elections: nothing realistic at all has been said about the violence, poverty, disorder and incompetence that dog the vast majority of Egyptians. Instead, Egyptians are told how wonderful they have always been and assured they can be even more wonderful — if only they will cast their vote. It is somewhat like the beauty product ad in which the model looks stunning. Everyone knows the product has absolutely nothing to do with looking like that, yet they rush out to buy it anyway. Or so the advertisers want them to.
