Dialogues of Naguib Mahfouz: A bastion of freedom By Mohamed Salmawy On the 125th anniversary of Al-Ahram, I talked with Naguib Mahfouz about the newspaper and what it meant to him. He told me that he was a fan of Al-Ahram, even before he started working for it. Salmawy: This is like saying, "I am a fan of Ahli or Zamalek." Aren't you biased? Mahfouz: No. The relation between Al-Ahram and the rest of our newspapers is not similar to those of two clubs competing for the cup or the league championship. Al-Ahram is the oldest and most influential newspaper in this country. People usually read Al-Ahram and then another paper beside it. For example, state news, obituaries, and classified advertisements are all things you read in Al-Ahram. Weekend supplements are something Al-Ahram started way before other papers got into the action. For my generation, Al-Ahram was the mother of all newspapers, so to speak. We liked the other children too. Take me, for example. I read all newspapers, but I would always start with Al-Ahram. Salmawy: I noticed that whenever you're photographed carrying or reading a newspaper, it's always Al-Ahram. Mahfouz (chuckling): This is because I would buy Al-Ahram at first, then the rest of the newspapers. When I fold them, Al-Ahram would always be on the outside. As for the photographs showing me reading Al-Ahram, this is because the photographers were all from Al-Ahram. Salmawy: So what does Al-Ahram symbolise for you? Mahfouz: Al-Ahram is the bastion of journalism, being the oldest newspaper in the Middle East. But for me, it is also a bastion of freedom. I have been harassed by censorship repeatedly, and Al-Ahram always stood by me. When I published Children of the Alley in Al-Ahram in 1959, some Al-Azhar scholars were outraged. Many expected Al-Ahram to stop the serialisation. But Editor-in-Chief Mohamed Hassanein Heikal decided to keep the series going until the novel was published in full. "Your problem with the ulema is your business, but I guarantee your safety. No one will touch you," Heikal told me at the time. This was under Gamal Abdel-Nasser. In Anwar El-Sadat's time, I was banned from writing just before the 1973 War. I had signed a petition, written by Tawfiq Al-Hakim, to protest the "no peace, no war" situation that had developed then. Consequently, my works were banned from television. But I didn't feel threatened, because I was working for Al-Ahram. Had I not joined Al-Ahram, I would have probably been moved to an administrative job, which happened to other people who signed the petition with me. I recall that Tawfiq Al-Hakim told me that I should not worry because Heikal was going to get us back our jobs. And so it was. On 28 September 1973, Sadat delivered his annual speech commemorating Nasser's death -- we knew that it was Heikal who wrote the speech. Sadat said that he "forgave" us all, and we got our jobs back.
