From Nasser to the present day, successive governments have repeated the same refrain: urging Egyptians to be patient in exchange for a better tomorrow. Since the mid-20th century, the flow of promises delivered to the Egyptian people by their rulers has never ceased. Every administration arrived with new slogans and a different formula, yet the core message remained the same: be patient a little longer, and prosperity will come. From Nasser to Sadat, from Mubarak to the post-revolution era, the rhetoric changed in form but remained constant in substance: promises of crossing into a better future. The reality, however, was often very different, leaving Egyptians waiting for fruits that never fell. Under Gamal Abdel Nasser, the most famous slogan was: "Raise your head, my brother, for the age of subjugation is over." This was tied to a project of social justice, nationalisation, and building a domestic industrial base. Egyptians did feel a sense of national dignity; education became free and job opportunities expanded. But the economy could not bear the weight of successive wars (Yemen, the 1967 defeat, the War of Attrition), and sweeping state control of economic life produced a bloated bureaucracy and industries incapable of innovation. The result was food shortages and mounting debt. Anwar Sadat then came, proclaiming the need to "escape from the bottleneck." He saw economic liberalisation as the gateway to prosperity, promising that foreign investment and the fruits of victory in war would transform society. Yet reality proved harsh: a small elite reaped the rewards of the open-door policy, while the majority watched prices soar. The so-called "open-door without limits" filled markets with foreign goods, weakened local industry, and widened the gap between rich and poor. Hosni Mubarak followed, ruling for three decades with an unspoken slogan: "Stability first." He promoted the idea of "trickle-down economics," claiming that privatisation and investment would eventually benefit everyone. In the 1990s and 2000s, certain economic indicators improved on paper, but ordinary citizens felt no relief. On the contrary, the middle class began to erode, and the benefits flowed to a narrow elite tied to power and capital. After the 2011 revolution and its aftermath, the new slogan became: "Economic reform is a necessity... be patient, the fruits are coming." Difficult decisions—currency devaluation, subsidy cuts, higher taxes—were justified as the only path to saving the state. But citizens bore the cost: soaring prices, stagnant wages, and mounting debt. The talk of fruits to come became a repeated refrain, yet the fruits never arrived. Over time, these promises turned into something like fantasy. Citizens no longer received them as hope but as recycled rhetoric used to justify hardship. Thus, whole generations were cast into a wilderness. The wilderness is not only the absence of a compass, but the absence of a full picture—an interruption of collective perception. Egyptians found no declared national constants, no clear economic or social objectives against which governments could be held accountable, no binding social contract to safeguard their rights. Each generation was told: be patient a little longer. The years passed, and the outcome was the same: daily hardship and endless waiting. The wilderness is also the loss of trust: trust that effort and sacrifice will pay off; trust among youth that their future lies within their homeland; trust for the middle class that its position will be preserved. Entire generations were lost, chasing a deferred hope, while no plan offered certainty of a different future. The contradiction between wealth and poverty Here lies the stark contradiction: a country rich in natural and human resources, yet millions of its people live in unjustifiable poverty. While many lack life's basic necessities, extreme wealth exists – its sources often opaque, its formation and management unexplained. This contradiction produced a fractured consciousness. Egyptians' dreams scattered. The collective dream of renaissance and shared prosperity splintered into smaller ones: for many, merely escaping extreme poverty, or barely surviving at the poverty line. For others, the ceiling of ambition became reaching the middle class—a class once the backbone of society but now so diminished it has nearly disappeared. Legitimate dreams Despite the wilderness and contradictions, legitimate dreams remain. Not luxuries, not fantasies, but natural rights for any living people. Work is the first dream—work that rewards skill and promotes competence, not mere loyalty. Egypt is full of talented youth, but their energies are wasted when opportunities are granted by favouritism instead of merit. The dream is that hiring and leadership be based on ability to deliver, and that dignified work becomes the platform to unleash talent into productive power. From work springs the dream of innovation. Nations do not advance through traditional labour alone, but through creativity. Egyptian youth are brilliant minds, yet lack environments that nurture them. Many emigrate to seek opportunities, while the homeland loses them. The dream is for Egypt to become a regional hub for research and technology, to build laboratories, fund startups, and produce success stories that carry Egyptian names onto the global stage. Then comes the dream of investment. Innovation needs translation into projects; work needs expansion. Egyptians do not reject investment, but they want it in their favour: factories that employ youth, agricultural projects that revive villages, and investment in health and education. True investment is felt in people's lives, not just recorded on paper. From investment flows the larger dream: economic sovereignty – that Egypt may eat from its own land, produce enough for itself and export the surplus, that it may build modern national industries, invest in renewable energy, and reduce its dependency on others. Economic sovereignty means independence in decision-making and ensuring that wealth benefits citizens first, not creditors abroad. This vision ties to the dream of participation. Egyptians are weary of sudden decisions that alter their lives without consultation. They want to know in advance what is planned, to be part of discussion through real institutions, or at least to be prepared. Participation is not a luxury, but the guarantee of success for any policy. After these economic and political dreams comes the true foundation: education. Egyptians want public schools that genuinely teach – not overcrowded classrooms that drive children into private tutoring. They want modern curricula, well-trained teachers, and universities that compete on a global scale. Education is not a paper certificate, but the ladder to a better future. Health follows. Egyptians want assurance that when they fall ill, they will find a clean public hospital, a respectful doctor, and affordable medicine. No one should have to sell land or borrow heavily to treat themselves or their child. Health is true security for any society. Finally comes social dignity—the ultimate goal. That a citizen live with decency: income sufficient without debt, a home to shelter family, food worthy of dignity, and psychological security about today and tomorrow. Social dignity is the frame that contains all other dreams; it is the ultimate objective of any genuine national project. These are all legitimate dreams—not luxuries, not fantasies, but the simplest rights of a patient people who have given much. From Nasser to Sadat to Mubarak and beyond, the promises were grand, but the realities far smaller. Egyptians today do not need new speeches; they need plans carried out with honesty and transparency. They want their legitimate dreams to become tangible reality: a secure home, a school that opens horizons, a hospital that heals, decent work, fair laws, a revived middle class, innovative youth, independent economy, investment that serves people, real participation, and preserved awareness. These are not utopias—they are the long-overdue social contract waiting to be realised.
