Summer Solstice
By MICHAEL ADAMS CAIRO
TN the good old days of imperialism you could I reckon on a spell of peace and quiet in the Middle East between the end of June and the beginning of October, which was only reasonable in an area where the temperature during the summer months varies between 90 and 120 degrees. As far as Egypt was concerned, this welcome interlude opened with the end of the university term, as the students dispersed to their homes all over Egypt and in the surrounding countries, and were not on hand until the autumn to join in street riots and turn over tramcars.
There was also the fact that the government moved to Alexandria for the summer months, and with it anyone who was anyone in the professional or the social world, and that many of those who could afford it went on to Europe to relax in a German spa or amongst the Italian lakes or on the Riviera. To start a political crisis in Egypt during the summer would in those days have been both antisocial and overambitious.
The Egyptian revolution of 1952 changed all that. To begin with, it took place right in the middle of the yearly siesta, on July 23rd, and it brought to power a social group who had not only not been in a position themselves to go to Alexandria or to Europe for their summers, but who deeply resented the fact that others had. The revolutionary government, with self-denying zeal, decreed the end of the annual migration, and since then has seen the summer through in Cairo. Increasingly strict financial regulations have made it impossible for any Egyptian to take his holidays outside the Arab world unless he could invoke special reasons of health or professional duty. And, to complete the change, the government has maintained such a firm control over political activity, whether among students or anyone else, that popular demonstrations have become as rare as crocodiles on the banks of the Nile— except, of course, when the government itself has had an interest in promoting them.
One result of all this is that the summer is no longer an off-season for political crises—in fact, on the showing of recent years, it seems .well on the way to becoming the favourite season for them. The yearly celebration of the anniversary of the revolution provides an uncomfortably convenient jumping-off point. In 1955 Mr. Shepilov attended it, and out of his conversations in Cairo was born the Soviet arms deal with Egypt. In 1956 the Western Withdrawal of its offer of aid for the High Dam gave President Nasser the ammunition for his anniversary speech, and a day or two later the Suez crisis was upon us. In 1957 the scene shifted to Syria, where the threat of a com- munist take-over brought the Sixth Fleet steaming into the Eastern Mediterranean, and started the train of events which led the Syrians to throw in their lot with Egypt six months later. Last summer, with the Lebanese revolt smouldering on, it seemed at one point in July as though the explosion in Iraq must set the whole Middle. East aflame.
So this year we have two anniversaries to celebrate, one in Cairo and the other in Baghdad, with only a week between them— and the battle between Arab nationalism and communism still unresolved. As if this were not enough, relations between Egypt and Israel are at their worst since Suez, the Israelis having raised, with evident deliberation the old issue of free passage through the Suez canal, and the Egyptians having accepted the challenge by detaining the 'Inge Toft' since May 21. There has been an inconclusive air engagement over Sinai, and the Israelis have impounded an Egyptian fishing vessel, as well as forcing down two Lebanese aircraft. Both sides have backed into positions which it will be difficult for them to abandon—and with yet another quarrel brewing between the U.A.R. and Jordan, it is small wonder that Mr. Hammarskjold is considering yet another pilgrimage to what has become one of his principal fields of activity. He was last out here in September, when he helped to disperse the storm clouds that had covered the Middle East all summer. Now the clouds are gathering again, as the heat increases and tempers grow frayed. Perhaps after all Alexandria was the best place to spend the summer.
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