The EconomistNovember 14th 2020 Middle East & Africa 452 muddya case.Thelawisvagueand,any-
way,“itisjustwhatyouwriteona pieceof
paper,”saysSalmaElTarzi,a film-maker
whofocusesonsexualviolence.Thereal
problemistheattitudeofEgyptianmen.
MostofEgypt’sjudgesandprosecutors
aremen.TheydecidewhatviolatesEgyp-
tianvalues.Latelytheyhavebeenusinga
cyber-crimelawtocrackdownonwomen
dancingandclowningaround onTikTok.
SinceApriltheauthoritieshavearrested
tenfemaleTikTokinfluencersoncharges
ofviolatingfamilyvaluesandinciting“in-
decency”and“debauchery”.Sixhavebeen
sentencedtotwoyearseachinprison;two
havereceivedthree-yearsentences.Partof
whatpanicstheoldarbitersofmoralityis
howtheinternethasempoweredyoung,
oftenlower-classwomen.
The country as awhole, though, re-
mains deeply conservative. Many Egyp-
tianssupportedthearrestsoftheTikTok
stars.Asurveyreleasedin 2017 bytheun
and Promundo, an advocacy group,
showedthat64%of Egyptianmen (and
60% of women) believe that a woman
should marry her rapist. Almost three-
quartersofmen(and84%ofwomen)said
womenwhodressprovocativelydeserveto
beharassed.OnlyinEgyptaretheviewsof
youngmenasconservativeasthoseofold-
ermenwhenit comestogender,saysAmel
Fahmy,whoworkedonthesurvey.
“TherearemillionsofmeninEgyptwho
havenoclueabouttheirsexualityandthe
ideasofboundariesandconsent,”saysMs
Ashraf.Shegrewmoredisillusionedafter
talkingtohercatcallingcabdriver.Heulti-
mately apologised, she says, but then
claimedhewouldnevergetmarried.Asked
why,heresponded,“BecauseyoutoldmeI
shouldn’tcomplimentgirls.” 7I
t was1991, and dozens of men were hud-
dled around a long white table in Spain,
clad in the formless dark suits that are de
rigueur at diplomatic functions. Only one
stood out: a bearded, bespectacled univer-
sity professor, shoulders draped in a keffi-
yeh, the chequered scarf that has become a
symbol of Palestinian nationalism. Saeb
Erekat caused a stir at the Madrid confer-
ence, the first direct talks between Israel
and the Palestinians. Binyamin Netanya-
hu, then a mere spokesman for the Israeli
delegation, suggested that his dress was a
“provocation”. But, for Mr Erekat, the sum-
mit would start a diplomatic process that
became his life’s work.
On November 10th Mr Erekat died in Je-
rusalem at the age of 65. He tested positive
for covid-19 in October, a grim diagnosis for
a man who had a lung transplant in 2017. Is-
rael allowed him to receive treatment at
Hadassah hospital, but he never recovered.
Born in 1955, he grew up in Jericho, an
ancient city nestled in the Jordan valley.
After university studies in America and
Britain he returned to the West Bank and
became a loyal member of Fatah, now the
territory’s ruling party. A mediator rather
than a militant, he would play an integral
role in the earliest agreements between Is-
rael and the Palestinians, including the
second Oslo accords, signed in 1995.
The two-state solution became an ob-
session. He never bought into the idea of a
binational state where Jews and Arabswould coexist under a single political sys-
tem: in his mind Israel would never relin-
quish its Jewish majority. Only divorce—
territorial partition—would grant his peo-
ple their rights. In public he could be
obstinate, prone to legal diatribes and oc-
casional outbursts. In private, though, he
often recognised that he had a bad hand.
Palestinian critics accused him of play-
ing it badly. A batch of leaked memos, pub-
lished in 2011 by Al Jazeera, revealed that Mr
Erekat and his team offered to cede nearly
all of east Jerusalem when negotiating with
Israel in 2008. The Palestinians claim thatland as the capital of their future state. In
Mr Erekat’s words, though, he was ready to
give Israel “the biggest Yerushalayim in
Jewish history” (the Hebrew name for the
city). He got nothing in return—and re-
signed soon after the documents were pub-
lished, something he did every few years.
His departures were always short-lived.
In its immediate ramifications, Mr Ere-
kat’s death may say more about domestic
politics than about the moribund peace
process. Mahmoud Abbas, the Palestinian
president, turns 85 on November 15th and
has been ailing for years. His term should
have ended 12 years ago. Yet he clings jeal-
ously to his post and views would-be suc-
cessors with suspicion. Mr Erekat was one
of the few to stay in his good graces and had
been a contender to replace the ageing
president. Instead Mr Abbas will have to re-
place him; his choice may hint at who leads
in the succession struggle.
Still, it is hard to escape the symbolism
of his death. In Jordan last year your corre-
spondent asked Mr Erekat about his health.
“I’m fine,” he replied. “On two feet, working
for two states.” Typical Saeb: earnest and
folksy, even at a time when there was little
for him to negotiate. The Obama adminis-
tration dispatched John Kerry, its secretary
of state, on a quixotic quest to broker an
agreement. Talks stalled in 2014 and never
resumed. President Donald Trump had his
“deal of the century”, unveiled in January
and dead on arrival.
Mr Trump’s successor, Joe Biden, is un-
likely to spend much time on his own ef-
fort, likely to be futile. Mr Netanyahu, now
the Israeli prime minister, has devoted his
career to obstructing an agreement that
would lead to a Palestinian state. The Pales-
tinians are mired in divisions and increas-
ingly cast doubt on the two-state idea. Mr
Erekat will be mourned as a fighter for the
Palestinian cause. When the eulogies are
done, many Palestinians will wonder if his
is a fight worth continuing. 7BEIRUT
The Palestinians mourn the loss of a forceful advocate for their causeSaeb ErekatA negotiator in winter
Rest, but no peace