ASSRJ-18081 Camera Ready.pdf

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Advances in Social Sciences Research Journal – Vol. 11, No. 12

Publication Date: December 25, 2024

DOI:10.14738/assrj.1112.18081.

Saad, S. (2024). Doing (In)Justice? Cairene Place Naming and Politics of Forgetting. Advances in Social Sciences Research Journal,

11(12). 284-300.

Services for Science and Education – United Kingdom

Doing (In)Justice? Cairene Place Naming and Politics of

Forgetting

Sadek Saad

ORCID: 0000-0002-2670-3471

Department of Architecture,

College of Engineering at Shobra, Benha University, Egypt

ABSTRACT

Toponym is a crucial part of the city’s symbolic meanings. Its investigation explores

what is said or unsaid about the past and explains memory operation. Cairo

experienced multiple cases of naming and renaming throughout its history;

however, whose history is remembered, misremembered, or forgotten? The author

argues that Cairene’s toponym is used as a tool for the politics of dictated forgetting

and misremembering. The study explores the Cairene naming and renaming

politics processes in three significant eras: Historic Cairo (before 1800), Royal Cairo

(1840-1950), and Pretorian Cairo (after 1956). Such an investigation aims to

comprehend the authorities’ naming and renaming impact on the Cairo memorial

landscape. Decoding the Cairene memorial landscape demands an interdisciplinary

study. Urban sociology analyses history as a data source for creating models; urban

geography deals with the city on its fundamental level, and urban history searches

for events’ meanings and consequences for the city. Focusing on what is accessible

and observable in the Cairene memorial landscape suggests finding the best

alternative conclusion. While places in historic Cairo were named by identities,

Royal and Pretorian Cairo introduced toponyms for manipulating public memory.

Keywords: Urban Studies, Urban Memory, Toponym, Memorial Landscape, Cairo.

INTRODUCTION

In 2015, activists from the Osez le féminisme renamed 60 streets in Paris, France, to bring

gender parity in place naming. In 2024, activists renamed streets in Leone, France, after

Palestinian activists and journalists. Furthermore, protesting students of Columbia University,

USA, renamed Hamilton Hall after a female toddler, Hend Ragab, who was killed in Gaza. Other

students renamed McGill University's buildings in Canada after ruined villages and towns in

Palestine. The Hamilton Hall was an arena for protesting against the Vietnam War and the

Apartheid Regime of South Africa. During the student’s protest against the South African

regime, the hall was named after Nilsson Mandela.

Toponyms have challenged discrimination, violence, and inequality [1], [2], [3]. Their material

structures shaped how people interact and identify historical and memorial events. Naming

sites is a significant part of the urban linguistic landscape, and the signage used to mark

toponyms constitutes a considerable part of the city’s symbolic power [4]. Naming is not limited

to cultural, historical or political contestation; institutions commonly encourage donations by

naming halls, buildings, or other permanent elements after donors.

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Saad, S. (2024). Doing (In)Justice? Cairene Place Naming and Politics of Forgetting. Advances in Social Sciences Research Journal, 11(12). 284-300.

URL: http://dx.doi.org/10.14738/assrj.1112.18081

Urban history is not just a story. Understanding the urban changes in the past will lead to

understanding contemporary urbanism. Interpreting the origin and changes of the city’s

tangible and intangible components is necessary to decode its symbols [5, p. 4]. Thus, the

central subject of urban history should not describe city walls, gates, streets, and buildings but

its multidimensional urban life cyphered in distinctive signs. Signs and symbols preserve and

adapt the memories of communities’ experiences [6], as remembering or forgetting specific

locations and events is an essential part of the collective memory. Swart argued that street

naming “opens up possibilities of a more inclusive history [7, p. 120].” Nonetheless, she

emphasises the dangers of creating urban injustice. In Australia and the United States, for

example, memorials and monuments have traditionally been built or “written” in ways that

ignore or misrepresent the history of Indigenous peoples [8, p. 210]. Alderman raises

significant questions about how street naming can do injustice to the history of those victimised

and discriminated against. What is said and not said about the past? Whose history is

remembered or forgotten through the spatial inscription of memory? To what extent does the

differential treatment of histories silence certain accounts of the past while it gives voice to

others? [9, p. 41].

Investigating street names is vital in comprehending the Cairene operation of the memory. The

names of the streets reveal a lot about the city's historical development and changes. One

should first examine how they operate to understand the apparent efficacy of remembering and

forgetting [10, p. 47]. Cairo's policy of forgetting needs to be comprehended, especially after

experiencing aggressive urban deformation in the 19th and 21st centuries. The urban policy of

forgetting in Cairo is unique in many ways. It highlights how Cairo’s authorities decided to

replace its past with the glossy future of generic anywhere-fit standard design in the name of

‘development’. What makes the study of Cairo’s policy of forgetting essential is that city

transitions could significantly impact our experiences, collective memories, and knowledge of

the past. As cities deform, collective memory becomes even more critical for the present

generations and those who may need to learn from their cities’ urban palimpsest [11, pp. 17

and 16].

Reading the city’s history concerns its origins, long-term changes, and decoding of meanings.

Suppose such an approach considers urbanism a way of life [12]; Sennett’s argument about the

city as an arena of competing forces and players explains the changes in the system of meanings

[13]. Urban elements like space, place, street, boundaries and names express intangible

identities. These elements are defined as individual and collective knowledge belonging to a

particular group and associated with its member's emotions and sociocultural and economic

values [14]. Toponymic practice is widely used in the modern Cairene landscape. There is a long

tradition of authoritarian-dictated interpretations of history and heritage. Schools, streets, and

sites are named according to the governing elites’ synoptic viewing of Egypt’s history since the

middle of the 19th century (for more details about the synoptic view, see [15]). Moreover, the

Cairene renaming process neglects the value of historical justice and symbolic reparation. The

author argues that naming and renaming spaces were exercised in Cairo as a tool for dictated

forgetting and historical injustice.

This study explores the naming and renaming of Cairene streets along three essential eras and

explains their meaning and relationship to the politics of remembering and forgetting. Tracing

naming politics along with Cairo’s urban history aims to explore the relationship between

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naming and renaming streets and the public right to memory. The politics of naming and

renaming will be traced in historic Cairo (the city before 1800), Royal Cairo (the city between

1840 and 1950), and Pretorian Cairo (after 1956).

To answer how naming and renaming streets are used as tools for Cairene's politics of

remembering and forgetting, the author intends to associate their symbolic values with urban

and political changes. Moreover, the Cairene toponym is investigated to identify historical

attempts to do (in)justice. It must be noted that the author faced a significant challenge in

finding official and transparent answers for the Cairo streets naming policy. Consequently, the

author will produce multiple alternatives, among which the best explanation will be

considered.

Decoding urban signs involves disciplines such as urban sociology, history and geography.

Urban sociology analyses history as a source of data and examples to create models. However,

seeing urban history from a sociological perspective only might reveal sources of

misunderstandings with historians. Sociology perceives history as valuable examples selected

according to theoretical assumptions, and urban history examines the historical nature of cities

and the process of urbanisation [16], [17]. Furthermore, urban geography deals with the city

on a fundamental level on which landscape, or space and place name, occur [18], [19], [20].

Tracing toponyms in Cairo’s landscape demands an interdisciplinary study. Integrating

linguistic expression into urban sociology, history, and geography helps read the city as a text

of historical symbols, signs, and social models. Interdisciplinary studies explain the

sociocultural and political relationships that indicate how the place is named, the most suitable

name, and how it affects the community’s policy of forgetting [3].

Exploring Cairo's semiotic dimensions means treating it as a text on urban society. The ‘text’

metaphor critically reads the histories and ideologies written into (or written out of) the

content and form of memorial landscapes [21]. Consequently, randomly selected spaces

(streets and places) will be explored in various parts of Cairo. Those parts represent the three

eras: historic Cairo, Royal Cairo and Pretorian Cairo.

Collective memory theory serves as the foundation of this study by viewing the past as an

“object undergoing interpretation and representation” [22, p. 47]. This interpretation is mainly

done by discovering changes in Cairo’s politics of naming and renaming. Focusing on what is

accessible and observable from the city memorial landscape suggests using maps, indexes, and

related literature. Historical events will be analysed regarding their impact on Cairo's politics

of naming and renaming. Moreover, historical events and the Cairene politics of naming and

renaming will be investigated from related literature, site visits and spontaneous interviews.

POLITICS OF NAMING SPACES AND PLACES

The most significant traces expected for symbolic expression are naming, linguistic elements'

emplacement, graphic ideology, and language policy [23]. Moreover, identifying a public space

starts by naming it, as naming has a performative, stabilising, and ordering character [24].

Hendry argued that “the power to control symbolic systems” mirrors semiotic values and

legitimate conceptions [25, p. 25]. Names are not only linguistic expressions referring to an

object in the real or imagined world; they are also symbols that bring about a variety of feelings

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Saad, S. (2024). Doing (In)Justice? Cairene Place Naming and Politics of Forgetting. Advances in Social Sciences Research Journal, 11(12). 284-300.

URL: http://dx.doi.org/10.14738/assrj.1112.18081

depending on the relationship between the name user(s) and the named object. When thinking

of a named place, what comes first into mind, the place or its name, or do they appear

simultaneously? “To some extent, it is a chicken-and-egg dilemma” [26, p. 109].

Names are used in various functions, expressions of particular objects and cognitive, emotional,

and social communication (Andersson 1994, p. 8, cf. [26, p. 99]. Despite the Royal Opera House

in Cairo being burned to the ground on the early morning of 28 October 1971, the place is still

known as 'Midan el-Opera’ (Opera Square), but the site hosts a multi-story garage. The name

introduces a memorial meaning and sense that provokes stories about how and why it was

burned. Toponyms can serve as cues inspiring reflection and education about an unfamiliar

past, which has a significant impact since many citizens might be unaware of the history

associated with names [27].

Moughtin and Mertens argued that naming is related to the symbolic meaning of an urban site,

making it its most crucial function [28, p. 88]. Spaces require physical structure, but places do

not. They might be part of a defined or undefined space. Applying a name to a spatial sector

means creating a place. In 1801, the French engineers recorded various commercial places

along el-Azam Street in Cairo. Despite the street’s continuity as a linear space, it was divided

into sectors [29], [30], [31], each accommodating a marketplace and being named differently

[32].

A place name points out a place and mediates a cluster of memories and meanings attached to

it [26, p. 100]. Renaming Hamilton Hall, for example, mediates meaning and memories of

students' struggle for social justice and their struggle against oppression, apartheid, and war.

News of Columbia students renaming the Hall after Hend Ragab evoked memories of naming it

in another event after Nelson Mandela, which emphasises the commemorative value of

Hamilton Hall. Duncan Light posits that names commemorating essential events or

personalities from a country's history can be significant expressions of national identity with

decisive symbolic importance [33].

Place name acquires a functional value “that easily matches their utility as instruments of

reference.” Proper names are widely regarded as paradigmatic referring expressions. Although

it may seem implausible to suppose that all words ‘hook onto’ or 'refer to' something, certain

types of words are arguably of the referring sort, such as proper names, pronouns, indexicals,

demonstratives, plurals, natural kind terms, and other property terms [34]. A definite

description can ‘hook onto’ something if introduced in referential terms. Reference is a relation

between certain sorts of representational tokens and objects. For example, naming a street

after Saad Zakhloul is a solid reference to the 1919 Egyptian revolution.

It became essential for urban spaces to be labelled in the modern city as part of its physical

infrastructure and spatial reference system. While monuments can be torn down and their

footprints obliterated, a street or public space must have a name. A street cannot be left without

a name, as a removed statue can leave behind an empty pedestal [35, p. 310]. Before 2015,

Tahrir Square contained an empty pedestal. It was not common knowledge what the pedestal

was for. Few knew the pedestal was supposed to be for Ismail Pasha’s statue. The statue was

not built as Ismail Pasha was exiled to Istanbul by the British in 1879, and its pedestal presented

memorial problems. However, the place was named and renamed.

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NAMING PLACES IN CAIRO

Although Cairo produced street signage in the second half of the 19th century [36], place names

represented a conscious part of its cultural heritage. Place names in historic Cairo have been

handed down orally from generation to generation. They are a particular part of its cultural

heritage, telling about the places they refer to. When one considers that place names are coined

to describe it, it becomes evident that the coining group deals with a material of immense

historical value [26, p. 102]. Coining a place or a residential entity in historic Cairo after a group,

such as el-Maghareba (residents from Morocco, Algeria and Tunis), identified the place and set

a rule of belonging between the place and a group of people. On the other hand, places in Royal

and Pretorian Cairo are coined from a political and authoritarian perspective.

Naming Places by Identities in Historic Cairo

In historic Cairo, places were identified for urban functions and geographic characteristics or

their founding origine (tribe, profession or ethnic groups). Places such as el-Kotobeia (book

traders) and el-Sanadeqeia (bookbinders) were familiar as they were determined according to

their urban function. If streets were identified by their geographic properties, places such as el- Khalij el-Masry (the Cairene Gulf) are common. El-Khalij el-Masry was a Nile Channel crossing

the city from south to north. Streets such as bien el-Qasrien (between the two palaces), bien el- Surain (between the two walls), and Bab el-Luq (the wetland’s door) are examples of naming

places by physical reference. Bien el-Qasrien was between the two Fatimid palaces, and bien el- Surain was between two defensive walls. Bab el-Luq was a training field surrounded by a wall.

The name Bab means door, and el-Luq is some soil. In modern times, the wall and door were

demolished, and the context of the place was developed. Although bien el-Qasrien, bien el-Surien

and Bab el-Luq lost their physical references, the three places sustained their names. Haret el- Maghareba, Haret el-Shawam (residents from Palestine, Lebanon and Syria), Zwila Gate and

Haret el-Saqayen (residents working in water delivery) are some examples of places named

after their founding origin.

Nevertheless, one can identify places named after individuals who developed an area and took

residence in it. It is unclear whether the developers or the public named those places. In the

late 15th century, a land developer named Azbak bin Tatakh el-Yusufi bought a significant area

by a lake in Western historic Cairo. After developing it and constructing his palace, the area and

the lake became known as El-Azbakeya. El-Mosky Market was named after Prince Izz el-Din

Mosk, who built a private palace and a row of shops along a street around the 12th century.

Nevertheless, the name is commonly disputed. Some interviewers said the name comes from

the French word ‘Moqueé’ as the Napoleon army commanders lived in the area (1798-1801).

Such politics of naming do not perfectly match William’s expression of ‘identity by naming’ [37];

they match the expression of ‘naming by identity’. The latter expression goes beyond the

objectivity and materiality of places to their intangible aspects. Naming a place according to its

identity and characteristics produces symbolic meanings and is easily remembered.

However, other sites in historic Cairo were named according to unknown references to the

author. For example, the vast open area at the Citadel was named Qara-Midan. Qara-Midan

means the Black Square; nevertheless, the colour has no physical signification. The name's

linguistic structure does not follow Arabic grammar; it follows Turkish, and its naming process

still needs clarification.

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Saad, S. (2024). Doing (In)Justice? Cairene Place Naming and Politics of Forgetting. Advances in Social Sciences Research Journal, 11(12). 284-300.

URL: http://dx.doi.org/10.14738/assrj.1112.18081

Cairene Place Naming and Context

A meaningful street in historic Cairo was known as el-Aazam Street before modern times (in

modern times, it was renamed el-Moa’az Street). El-Aazam Street (the Greatest Street) was the

city’s most prolonged, regular street and economic and sociocultural heart [38]. It was the city

commercial centre [39], a global commercial hub in the Islamic world from 1300 till 1800 [40].

It was the primary route for caravans passed through the city, connecting its northern and

southern gates. Its significant value to the city explains its name.

On the other hand, naming a road after Salah Salem by 1960 commemorates him as a ‘Free

Officer’, but it questions the choice’s meaning. Salah Salem was designed as a ring road at the

city’s eastern arc. Its context was the desert and cemeteries. It does not answer why Salah Salem

was chosen for this specific context. However, it might reflect the sense of the ‘Free Officers’

domination of the Egyptian political theatre after 1956. The name becomes meaningless

because it is not connected to context by justifying how the road should be recognised.

Cairene Place Naming and Authoritarianism

Street signs became part of the Cairene landscape only by the second half of the 19th century.

Statues, nodes (Midan) and monumental structures signify locations. Significant streets in

Royal Cairo were named after royal family members such as Mohammed Ali Pasha, Ibrahim

Pasha, King Fouad, and King Farouk Streets. Others were named after royal family entourage,

such as Suliman Pasha Street, and foreign dignitaries, such as the one named after the Ottoman

Sultan Abd el-Aziz during his visit to Cairo in 1876. Those streets commemorate living and dead

royal family members and their entourage. However, some were meaningless, others lost their

meanings throughout history, and some presented a specific sense beyond their references.

Streets that lost their initial sense, such as Clot Bek Street, became an Egyptian mockery by

referring the name to the French word for underwear (as they both are pronounced in Egypt,

the T in Clot is not considered silent). Unfortunately, it is not common knowledge that Clot Bek

was a French physician who founded the Egyptian School of Medicine in the 19th century.

From 1956 to 1971, streets and places in Pretorian Cairo were named after ‘revolutionary’

individuals and events, such as Medinet Naasr (city of victory), Medinet el-Omaal (city of

labours) and Salah Salem Road. In the mid-1970s, Egypt started a political shift that resulted in

an evident socioeconomic change. Newly developed areas, streets and towns were named after

Sadat’s political achievements and Gulf dignitaries. For example, new desert cities were named

Sadat, the 10th of Ramadan, 06 October, el-Salam (Peace) and Sheikh Zayed (of UAE) cities. The

first four cities commemorated the president as a hero of war and peace. Two decades later,

Sadat’s political shift created socioeconomic and cultural changes that affected different life

aspects, including urban development. Gated compounds and informal housing result from

such socioeconomic changes, significantly challenging Cairo’s urbanism [41]. Newly developed

areas were named in English or non-Arabic in countless senses; Gardenia, Dream Land, Porto- Marina, and Florida Mall are a few examples.

Around 2017, aggressive urban interventions were exercised in Cairo. Streets were widened,

flyovers constructed, traditional roundabouts and street green islands demolished, and express

roads cut through historic cemeteries. The authorities went beyond the early Pretorian

regime’s (1956-2013) politics of renaming existing places by imposing physical changes

associated with military memorial toponyms. Newly constructed flyovers and roads were

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named after army generals and divisions. Cobry el-Gish (army flyover), Tariq el-Sa’aqa (the

special forces road) and Mehwar el-Farique el-Assar (General el-Assar express road) are a few

examples of Cairene military memorial landscape. The Cairene authorities, after 2017, might

have found that the sense behind the names should be recognisable within the State's new

urban influential class.

THE CAIRENE TOPONYMIC MECHANISM

Cairo introduced three toponymic mechanisms. The first and second mechanisms were

introduced before 1800, and the third after the beginning of the 19th century. The first was

dynamic, related to urban and function changes. The comparisons of consecutive Cairo maps

and indexes (1803, 1879, 1920, 1949) introduced countless cases. For example, Qasabet

Radwan became el-Khiameia (tent makers and traders), el-Sanadeqeia (bookbinders) became

el-Sagha (jewellery traders), and el-Shamaien (candle traders) became el-Nahasien (cooper

traders). Names such as el-Aqadyn (rope sellers) and el-Nasakhien (book copiers) vanished as

their functional reference decayed. Even though those places sustained their physical

characteristics, their former names became uncommon. In such a mechanism, the toponyms of

the past became historical knowledge, and the place identity lost its functional anchorage.

The second toponymic mechanism was more resilient than the first. Names such as bien el- Qasrien (between the two palaces), bien el-Surain (between the two walls) and Souq el-Silah

(arms market) were sustained despite losing physical references—places like those stimulated

stories from successive historical eras [42]. In historic Cairo, arguing that physical references

construct a more stable or static toponymic mechanism seems inaccurate. It does not explain

why specific places lost their physical anchorage but sustained their original names. However,

the commonality between the two mechanisms in historic Cairo is their grassroots naming

process.

The third toponymic mechanism was widely practised in Cairo after the mid-19th century. It

became related to urban intervention and authoritarianism. Physical interventions imposed

short-term changes in the second half of the 19th and early 20th centuries. Places vanished, their

names became unknown, others disappeared, and names of nearby places were affected. For

example, el-Hararien (silk carpet traders) was located between the two structures of the el- Ghury complex. By constructing el-Azahr Street, the place changed its physical context and took

reference from the complex as it became el-Ghureia. El-Azhar area introduced a rich urban

palimpsest. A street planned and executed during the 19th century, el-Sikka el-Gidida and el- Azhar Street was scheduled in 1870 but executed in the early 20th century with significant

modification. Furthermore, an important historic area of the eastern el-Azhar Mosque was

demolished to develop the ‘a la mode’ Azhar University.

After establishing the Republic of Egypt, the intense politics of renaming targeted the so-called

‘people's enemies’ and their ‘recessive symbols’ [43]. Ismailia area (named after Ismail Pasha

during the second half of the 19th century) was renamed 'Wast el-Balad’ (the City Centre).

Renaming King Fouad Street as 26 July Street, King Farouk Street as el-Gish Street (Army

Street), Ibrahim Pasha Street as el-Gumhuria Street (Republic Street), King Fouad University as

Cairo University, and Ibrahim Pasha University as Ain-Shams University left their marks on the

city memorial landscape. If such a process is politically understandable, renaming non-royalty

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URL: http://dx.doi.org/10.14738/assrj.1112.18081

streets, such as el-Sekah el-Gedida, to Gohar el-Qaead is unusual. Still, it reflects the authorities’

aggression toward the Monarch’s symbolic ‘New Way’.

Egypt's liberation from British occupation leads to the renaming of Midan el-Ismailia as Midan

el-Tahrir (Liberation Square). Midan el-Tahrir presents a fascinating urban palimpsest. Its

contextual street pattern dates from the second half of the 19th century, and the surrounding

buildings have different styles dating from the 20th century. Two royal palaces from the late

19th century were reused in the second half of the 20th century. One became the American

University in Cairo, and the other was the Foreign Ministry Headquarters.

Furthermore, the old Egyptian Antiquity Museum -built in the early 20th century- is located on

a significant site by the Square. An American-style hotel and a Soviet-style structure are located

on two other sides. The missing statue of Ismail Pasha and the reuse of two royal palaces might

have encouraged people to forget the original name, Midan el-Ismailia. The Place’s architectural

ensemble produces grounds for misremembering the past. 2011, the place's name gained

significant sense and meaning; the 25 January 2011 revolution produced moral meaning for

Midan el-Tahrir. The place became a symbol of the fight for justice and freedom.

THE RIGHT TO MEMORY, TRUTH AND JUSTICE

To frame our discussion, we must start from several unconnected facts that imply a breeding

ground for the Cairene toponymic landscape and politics of forgetting: name, place, context,

time, storytelling, and justice. The rapid development of cities brings challenges, including

achieving and maintaining urban justice. Liu argued that urban justice is fairness in accessing

city resources by different social groups [44, p. 145]. However, accessing the city resources is

only one aspect of a just city. Justice, democracy, and citizenship are considered by González as

rights to participate in the State's politics and include all people and groups in identity-making.

Injustice cities become places of privilege and marginalisation, restricting participation in the

city's social life for population segments based on specific attributes [45, p. 274]. Nonetheless,

there are other essential forms of justice. Visvanathan coined “cognitive justice” to frame the

normative principle of the right of different knowledge to coexist so long as they sustain

people's lives, livelihoods, and life chances [46]. David Harvey defines territorial justice as the

search for the distribution of social resources [47]. Environmental justice [48], environmental

racism [49, p. 10], and historical justice discuss aspects of a good urban quality of life for all

citizens. Similarly, memorial injustice can be defined as any policy, practice or directive that

differentially affects or disregards (whether intended or unintended) the citizens' right to

memory [50].

Naming and renaming places are some aspects of historical justice and truth. In early Pretorian

Cairo (1956-1975), for example, renaming places was not just an act of rewriting street signs;

it created a new layer of memorial traces. This renaming of national history and tradition does

more than alter texts, maps, and signs. It is a consequential rescripting of people's everyday

lives and identities [51]. Naming places must consider the community's rights to memory and

history. Such rights can be seen in remembering and natural or dictated forgetting.

THE CAIRENE POLITICS OF FORGETTING

The naming politics collided between unofficial and official or resisted and dictated [52] due to

remembering and forgetting. The politics of natural forgetting was associated with the

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grassroots urban dynamics in historic Cairo, and dictated forgetting is associated with

authoritarianism.

The Cairene Politics of Remembering and Natural Forgetting: Time and Stories

Nora argued that people’s memory is defined by the relationships between the social dimension

and place; the longer the change takes place, the stronger the relationship [53]. Living through

the change, people become part of the change and develop new experiences and memories [54].

One can argue that time is a common factor in the Cairene toponymic mechanisms. Time refers

to short-term or long-term changes that create different toponymic mechanisms. The author

contends that investigating such an argument in historic Cairo’s memorial landscape leads to

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meaning and historical sense, it creates a cognitive bond with the storytellers [58]. Similarly,

places with overwhelming historical events, such as the Citadel, Qara-Midan and Zwila Gate,

stimulated the cognitive bond to storytelling. Interviewing residents in historic Cairo provokes

stories about the place and what has gone along with time. Zwiela Gate, in old Cairo,

supplemented the sociocultural activities of a group that settled near the gate in the early 10th

century. While meeting people in the place, stories about its toponym are used as a form of

social communication. The vast open space, Salah el-Din Square, is a rich source of memories

from the 12th century to the 21st century. The name and its stories create the spirit of the place;

it is a 'genius loci' [59].

The Cairene Politics of Dictated Forgetting, Time and Authoritarianism

It might be argued that modern Cairo’s (1870-2023) politics of naming and renaming were

imposed by and for the influentials. Such an argument is supported by Mitchell’s notion that

“each age attempts to refashion and remake memory to serve its contemporary purposes”

(Mitchell, 2003, p. 443 cf [60, p. 1]. Nonetheless, place naming and renaming cannot be fully

understood or evaluated outside of name replacement—a moment of new or unrealised

commemoration [35]. Place naming is an arena for struggles over remembering and forgetting

specific historical interpretations, events or individuals. It is a creative and selective mixture of

remembering and forgetting [61], [62]. As an arena of contestation, the Cairene modern urban

interventions provided a substantial opportunity for the city authority to practice political

hypocrisy. The influence of power on urban space is mainly reflected in the fact that some

interest groups or organisations prioritise their interests and adjust the use of urban space [44,

p. 146]. Modern Cairo’s palimpsest introduces a power contestation and a struggle between the

past that must be forgotten or misremembered and the present or between the elites’ interests

and the public resistance. For example, Midan Trimph in Heliopolis eastern Cario is a

roundabout named in the early 20th century. The Pretorian State’s authorities tried to rename

it several times, but the public maintained the original name.

The politics of dictated forgetting was exercised on a limited scale by the second half of the 19th

century. Several urban interventions delivered the keystones for practising this politics. They

were named after the new present by imposing a new memorial landscape disconnected from

their context. For example, constructing el-Sika el-Gedida, Mohammed Ali, and el-Azhar Streets

required demolishing a significant part of the street context to sell the extra land for profit.

Rebuilding each street’s defining structures isolated it from its historic landscape and dictated

a new present. Walking along Azhar Street, one can hardly imagine the context behind the

scenes. It can be argued that naming those cases after the new present is an insignificant event.

However, they were essential in the city’s urban communication system. For instance, el-Azhar

Street connects the city's modern cultural centre in the Opera Place with the el-Azhar Mosque

(Cairo's traditional and religious centre) in the east. Farouk Street was the longest street in

Royal Cairo; it connected the old southern city with its new suburban in the northeast.

At this stage (before the second half of the 20th century), it is challenging to determine if the act

of naming places aimed at exercising the politics of dictated forgetting or if the dictated

forgetting became a result of such an act. However, Royal Cairo reshaped the collective

memories and replaced Cairo’s historical memorial landscape with an imaginary landscape of

‘progress’ through the car-oriented solution.

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After the second half of the 20th century, the Cairene politics of dictated forgetting became

strongly associated with political changes. Short-term or sudden changes introduced the

authorities’ power to dictate what will be remembered, forgotten or misremembered. It cannot

be argued that renaming downtown streets was aimed at commemorating the ‘revolutionary’

events only, as the city authorities claim. Renaming streets mirrors contemporary events,

issues, and tensions [9, p. 40]. Place names are nodes within broader assemblages of power,

identity, histories, memories, and belonging [35, p. 313]. Players are involved in selecting this

or that version as a “reliable memory” [63, p. 128] because they are engaged in sociocultural,

economic, and political territorial disputes [15], [64]. Such engagement is exercised with

toponyms to influence collective memory formation and dictate which virtues and aspects of

events should be stressed [65].

Reshaping the Cairene streets after 2017 succeeded in de-characterising many sites in Cairo,

such as Heliopolis [66]. Predicting the impact of sudden urban changes in 2017 on collective

memory is challenging. Nonetheless, the authorities denied the citizens their “right to memory”

by erasing the urban palimpsest and introducing car-oriented solutions, as da Silva argued in

similar cases [67, p. 2]. By exercising the politics of dictated forgetting, places become part of

the political space and the urban memory is suppressed [68, p. 4]. Much of the dictatorship’s

public space memorial program started by the second half of the 20th century, including roads

and streets dedicated to ruling class members about authoritarianism. Naming and renaming

streets in Pretorian Cairo creates new references that are empty of meaning and impoverish

the urban landscape, as Canosa et al. (2009 cf. [45, p. 271]) argued in similar cases.

Players might use a place of memory—consciously or unconsciously—to impose certain

behaviours, and whether they advance remembering or forgetting, their endeavours constitute

the politics of memory [69]. For example, naming new roads during the second Pretorian era

(from 2014 till now) after military symbols, events, divisions, and generals is a conscious

decision in constituting a new policy of memory in which selected players are commemorated.

Political contestation between the present and the past introduces conflicts over the urban

memory by renaming or creating places of memory [70]. Politics operates in the sphere of

representation, and the erosion of citizenship comes with the increased urge of the State to

imprint the public spheres [71, p. 1].

Even though stories are pivotal for circulating urban knowledge and bridging time and place,

modern Cairene places rarely introduce stories about ways of life and symbolic meanings that

can survive urban changes. Only some places in the Royal Cairo, such as Mohammed Ali Street,

present a breeding ground for storytelling. Mohammed Ali Street creates multiple layers of

memories. The name reminds the public of the Turkish Waly, who laid the foundation for his

dynasty. It symbolises the entrainment and music industry of the beginning of the 20th century

and the low-cost furniture market after the second half of the 20th century. On the other hand,

places in Pretorian Cairo needed to be qualified to evoke stories. Since Linda Smith considered

stories to co-create spaces for the voices of the silenced to be remembered [72], those places

lost their connection to urban justice.

While the renaming moment in Cairo is ostensibly a struggle over the past and present, it is also

a struggle over whose identities and lives matter now and into the future. Imprinting the

Cairene public space with military toponyms is unjust because toponyms often reflect the

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values and worldviews of dominant elites [73, pp. 30–31]. Furthermore, toponyms are tools for

claiming and maintaining certain power relationships and language control, especially in

apparent settings [74].

CONCLUSIONS

Along with Cairo’s history, urban sites (places, streets, or spaces) were named and renamed

according to conflicting politics. Tracing the politics of memory in Cairo explained how the city

politics of naming and renaming shifted from cultural to socio-political and political aspects.

Naming and renaming are natural urban phenomena in Cairo. However, they were related to

site identity and the natural urban dynamics in historic Cairo. In Royal and Pretorian Cairo, they

are imposed by the influential. Place naming shifted from an identity reference and symbolic

value in historic Cairo to becoming a tool for political contestation in Pretorian Cairo.

While historic Cairo did not introduce linguistic signage, its naming and renaming politics

seemed efficient by replacing the toponymic signage with storytelling; such a replacement

created social communication in a dynamic place. Places were subjected to many forces, such

as the type of change, the duration of each stage (before and after the change), and symbolic

and cultural factors.

A significant difference between historic, Royal and Pretorian Cairo is its naming process.

Historic Cairo followed a bottom-up process associated with historical events and urban

changes. On the other hand, Royal and Pretorian Cairo followed a top-down process related to

authoritarianism. Despite the strong relationship between street names and their

commemorative value, the Royal and Pretorian Cairene street toponyms undermined or

misinterpreted such a relationship.

Contrary to the Cairene naming by identity (before 1800), Royal and Pretorian Cairo's

authorities imposed similar objectives and tactics in changing the city memorial landscape;

both eras reconstructed the collective memory and imposed their power traces on the city.

Despite the 'revolutionary' slogan of the first phase of the Pretorian State (1956-1975), the

authorities maintained similar ideologies of the 'recessive' past of the Royal State (1840-1950)

in producing memorials and historical injustice.

In Royal and Pretorian Cairo, the fight for attention to specific symbolic representations is

forced by top-down politics of naming, renaming, forgetting and misremembering. Influential

players selected their reliable version of the past to influence the collective memory and

construct a new present.

Royal and Pretorian Cairo’s authorities forced their politics of forgetting or misremembering to

operate according to their interests regardless of historical reference. Associated sites with

influential players seem to commemorate those players, but they became connected with

political contestation and memorial injustice. During the Royal and Pretorian eras, the Cairene

authorities mobilised political references to drive the community into ideological and

sociocultural transformation. Such an ideology targeted the politics of reshaping the urban

memory by disconnecting the memory subject from historical meanings.

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In Royal and Pretorian Cairo, street names are written by the authorities, leaving little room for

interpretation and community involvement. Misconceptions and conflicts between public

memory and authoritarian naming politics are common.

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