Umm Kulthum’s Legacy: A Battle for Egypt’s Collective Memory

The late President Anwar Sadat’s observation, “Egyptians breakfast on foul, lunch on football, and dine on Umm Kulthum,” was a profound insight into the nation’s identity. Egyptians conclude their day with the voice of “El Sett” because she is integral to their soul, memory, and history. She was, and remains, a possession of the Egyptian people. When diverse social strata gathered around radios to listen to her, they were not merely enjoying an evening; they were engaging in a collective ritual. Thus, any perceived slight against Umm Kulthum is not an attack on an individual but on the memory of a nation—a period that saw art as “a partner in battle,” “a support in defeat,” and “a voice for dignity.” In an era where singing helped shape public consciousness, rather than serving as mere entertainment, art held a significant role, a voice carried weight, and symbols bore responsibility. Umm Kulthum was not merely a singer performing for authority; she was, in herself, an authority. Her voice emerged not just from her throat but from a comprehensive national project, resonating deep within the collective conscience.

Legends cannot be simply reshaped. Umm Kulthum is not a fabricated legend but one forged through effort, intellect, and an understanding of her era. Her image was cultivated within the collective consciousness over decades of songs, speeches, laughter, tears, and pivotal moments. Approaching her with the aim of “dramatic deconstruction” without grasping her historical and social context constitutes a dual error: it wrongs a woman who lived in a different time and a nation whose consciousness was shaped by her voice. While audiences may view her as a “human being,” stripping away her symbolic value under the guise of “modernity” or “reinterpretation” is unacceptable. Not every new interpretation adds value, as some symbols are born from historical moments too grand for any screenplay and too weighty for any dramatic treatment.

A writer’s professionalism and awareness of their subject are revealed when they attempt to “break the aura” around a symbol for “human depth” and “invent” situations under the guise of “dramatic necessity.” In their portrayal of Umm Kulthum, the trio of Mahfouz Abdel Rahman, Inaam Mohamed Ali, and Sabreen successfully balanced maintaining her prestige without reducing the character to a mere statue. Their approach preserved the distinction between the artist and the symbol. The performance was mature, based not on imitation but on internal character development, understanding her spirit, motivations, and “inner voice,” alongside her full presence in that era. Conversely, the recent trio behind “El Sett” emerged in a temporal gap, tampering with collective memory and eroding the distance between artist and symbol, citing reasons such as breaking stereotypes, modern interpretation, and contemporary embodiment.

Portraying a symbol of Umm Kulthum’s stature demands not only talent but also awareness, responsibility, and a profound understanding of history; otherwise, it risks becoming “cultural absurdity.” The creators of the film “El Sett”—a talented writer, director, and actress—were not primarily at fault for their ambition. Their main failing was a lack of awareness regarding the “weight of the era” they addressed through “El Sett.” They treated her as a fleeting figure, an ordinary woman, forgetting she was “the rhythm of a nation,” “the memory of a people,” and “an icon of an era.” They intruded upon the archives of memory without reverence for the period’s honor, marginalizing the character and fracturing the icon. They indulged in “flights of dramatic fancy,” opening the door to broad interpretation through “arbitrary selection” and “reverse angles” of her life. The resulting portrayal, which is not always as it seems, depicted a woman embodying “El Sett” through a fabricated, distorted persona, marked by sharp temper, opportunism, blackmail, and troubled relationships.

The ongoing controversy surrounding the film “El Sett” transcends mere criticism of fabricated events, poor performance, an artificial vocal tone, or even a disturbed personality. It represents a “legitimate doubt” and a societal questioning of “who holds the right to redefine El Sett.” She is not just any “woman,” nor merely a singer whose legacy is solely artistic; she is a symbol belonging to history and popular sentiment. She accompanied major transformations in contemporary history, enduring years of defeat and victory, an icon of war and peace. Her voice united families around radios, shaped public consciousness in public squares, bolstered the morale of brave soldiers on the front lines, and supported war efforts on international stages. Simply put, she is “El Sett” who redefined the meanings of love, separation, patience, dignity, and belonging. She was not merely an audio “file” but a lived “certainty” etched into the collective consciousness. Those who fail to understand Umm Kulthum will not grasp why people rallied in her defense, nor why her voice, even today, resonates louder than any fleeting or biased interpretation.

Greek philosopher Aristotle stated, “Poetry (including drama) is truer than history, because history tells us what happened, while drama tells us what can happen according to human logic.” This suggests drama cannot be judged solely by documents but by the logic of human possibility. Yet, this imaginative freedom can devolve into the demonization and distortion of symbols central to Arab identity. Some invoke creative freedom to “justify” their transgressions and “pass along” hidden, toxic messages—a freedom used to alter a subject’s essence rather than to understand it. French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre described acting not as a transfer of reality but as a “stance” toward it, clarifying the responsibility of biographical drama creators. Every such work represents an “intellectual stance” on the character, which can be “sympathetic,” “critical,” or “hostile,” and is never an innocent position. This highlights the danger warned by German philosopher Walter Benjamin: “When the past is artistically reproduced, whoever owns the story owns the memory.” This reveals the true struggle is over “consciousness,” not merely “art.” Drama may not explicitly lie, but it subtly “suggests,” “plants impressions,” guides emotions, rearranges empathy, destabilizes constants, and shakes mental images. The late cinematic historian Samir Farid explained this, noting the real danger in biographical works lies not in “error” but in “suggestion.”

The film “El Sett” is not a biographical work about Umm Kulthum’s life; instead, it uses her to embody a particular idea, akin to a misleadingly titled book. It reduced a historical figure to a series of turbulent emotions. Its creators sought areas of psychological fragility, having failed to grasp her strength. They presented events that convey a false impression of her moral and human values, suggesting her artistic success stemmed from cunning, anxiety, and opportunism. This portrayal undermines her “prestige” and weakens her image as a national cultural symbol. Such an approach has led some to suggest a “suspicion of deliberate intent” to distort a national and historical icon, potentially as part of “fifth-generation warfare.” This concern is amplified given that much of today’s cinema audience comprises younger generations whose identity was not shaped by Umm Kulthum’s voice. A final question remains: Do creators of “symbol” dramas aim for art that respects its prestige, or for a reprogramming that serves fleeting contemporary whims?