Egypt’s Coup Is Like Moliere’s “Tartuffe”

Egyptians celebrate as military deposes President Morsi

Egyptians celebrate as military deposes President Morsi

What a strange turn of events we are seeing in Egypt as, in the past 48 hours, street protests are now celebrating the Egyptian military’s overthrow of a democratically elected government. Granted, it’s hard not to share the joy since President Morsi and the Muslim Brotherhood have betrayed the public trust. Nevertheless, I’m seeing enough similarities with Moliere’s play Tartuffe to caution against any premature celebration.

Bear with me as I tease out the parallels. There are more than you may think.

For analysis of what’s happening in Egypt, I turn to Thomas Friedman’s explanation in the New York Times:

In talking to Egyptians in recent weeks there is one word that best captures the mood of that country and that word is “theft.”

Always remember: Morsi narrowly won the Presidency by 51 percent of the vote because he managed to persuade many secular and pious but non-Islamist Egyptians that he would govern from the center, focus on the economy and be inclusive. The Muslim Brotherhood never could have won 51 percent with just its base alone. Many centrist Egyptian urban elites chose to vote for Morsi because they could not bring themselves to vote for his opponent, Ahmed Shafik, a holdover from the regime of Hosni Mubarak. So they talked themselves into believing what Morsi was telling them.

As it gradually became apparent that Morsi, whenever he had a choice of acting in an inclusive manner – and pulling in all sectors of Egyptian society – or grabbing more power, would grab more power, a huge chunk of Morsi voters, Islamists and non-Islamist, started to feel cheated by him. They felt that he and his party had stolen something very valuable – their long sought chance to really put Egypt on a democratic course, with more equal growth.

The non-Islamist youth, who mounted the revolution in Tahrir Square in 2011, more than any others, felt that their revolution had been stolen by the Muslim Brotherhood, who became much more focused on locking themselves and their cronies in power than fixing Egypt’s economy and making its government more representative.

The Muslim Brotherhood, of course, claims to have been called by a higher religious purpose, which is where the parallels with Moliere’s play begin. Tartuffe presents himself as the very soul of Christian piety and thereby gains the trust and admiration of Orgon, a nobleman. While Orgon’s family can see that Tartuffe is just out to enrich himself, Tartuffe twists Orgon to his purposes and manages to seize hold of all of his possessions, including some compromising documents. Towards the end of the play we see Orgon being led off to prison and his family expelled from their house.

Think of Orgon as the Egyptian electorate that believed that President Morsi and the Muslim Brotherhood had their best interests at stake, only to learn that they were being sold out. The most revealing moment may have been when Morsi (to quote Wikipedia) “temporarily granted himself unlimited powers to ‘protect’ the nation in late November 2012, and the power to legislate without judicial oversight or review of his acts.”

In Moliere’s play, when Tartuffe is betraying the man who elevated him by turning over incriminating documents to the king, he claims that he is acting selflessly. Here’s an interchange from the Richard Wilbur translation between him and Orgon, who I am imagining to be the Egyptian electorate:

Orgon: I rescued you when you were destitute;
Have you forgotten that, you thankless brute?
Tartuffe: No, no, I well remember everything;
But my first duty is to serve my King.
That obligation is so paramount
That other claims, beside it, do not count;
And for it I would sacrifice my wife,
My family, my friend, or my own life.

Needless to say, the “good” that Tartuffe is serving is his own wellbeing.

So how does good prevail? In the play, as in Egypt, a higher power doesn’t like what it sees and intervenes. King Louis XIV, Moliere’s patron, exposes Tartuffe’s charade and restores order:

Officer of the Court: (to Orgon): Sir, all is well; rest easy, and be grateful.
We serve a Prince to whom all sham is hateful,
A Prince who sees into our inmost hearts,
And can’t be fooled by any trickster’s arts.
His royal soul, though generous and human,
Views all thing with discernment and acumen;
His sovereign reason is not lightly swayed,
And all his judgments are discreetly weighed.
He honors righteous men of every kind,
And yet his zeal for virtue is not blind,
Nor does his love of piety numb his wits
And make him tolerant of hypocrites.
’Twas hardly likely that this man could cozen
A King who’s foiled such liars by the dozen.
With one keen glance, the King perceived the whole
Perverseness and corruption of his soul,
And thus high Heaven’s justice was displayed:
Betraying you, the rogue stood self-betrayed.

A couple of things should be said before viewing the Egyptian military as a contemporary version of France’s Sun King. Moliere himself (so my French professor father tells me) was very worried that religious factions, especially the Jesuits, were gaining too much power at court and used his play to subtly advocate for a more balanced approach to politics. Orgon in some ways stands in for the court and perhaps for the king when he is caught up in religious fervor. As a result, his play drew the enmity of various religious forces. That’s why, throughout the play, the playwright is careful to distinguish between (to quote the character Cleante, a Moliere spokesman) “true piety and hypocrisy.” Cleante as one point says

And just as there is nothing I more revere
Than a soul whose faith is steadfast and sincere
Nothing that I more cherish and admire
Than honest zeal and true religious fire,
So there is nothing that I find more base
Than specious piety’s dishonest face—

Moliere’s careful distinction didn’t appease his critics. Although Louis liked the play, he felt pressured by his religious counselors to ban it.  Moliere tried softening the satire to mollify his opponents, but it was to no avail. Only five years later did the king allow Tartuffe to be publicly performed.

Moliere proved to be right to be worried about the influence of narrow-minded religious fanatics. Twenty years after the play was written, Louis would revoke the Edict of Nantes, which had guaranteed religious freedom to French Protestants.

At first glance, it appears that the Egyptian military has acted like the king in the play, deposing a charlatan that preached religious values while engaging in a power grab. In his column, Thomas Friedman hopes that the latest developments signal a setback for political Islam and a potential victory for more moderate non-Islamist forces.

But the contradictory nature of the situation—an outside force suspending democracy supposedly to save democracy—is comparable to an absolute monarch saving the day for tolerance and understanding. Ultimately it did not end well for France: despite Moliere’s appeal to Louis’ “gentle and human” royal soul, the king would go on to become a tyrannical despot who would ruin France. I’m worried that, glad though we may be to see Morsi gone, this suspension of democratic rule will not end well.

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