The night Nasser

nationalised the
Suez canal
BY JEAN LACOUTURE & SIMONE LACOUTURE 

A LMOST seve

n in the evening, and

night is slowly falling
over Alexandria’s vast
Mohammed Ali Square,
where a well-behaved
crowd is hemmed in by
police cordons. A
pleasant breeze is
blowing, raising the
spirits of all gathered
here, especially as we
have just endured one
of the hottest weeks on
record. We are standing
on a balcony where
President Gamal Abdel
Nasser will soon deliver
a speech. It’s only 20
metres from where
Muhammad Abed al-
Latif, a member of the
Muslim Brotherhood,
fired eight shots at
Nasser (as “an agent of
Anglo-American
imperialism”) two years
before.
The Egyptian president
appears, walks past us
and climbs to the
rostrum. Apparently
unconcerned by any
memory of the attack,
Nasser smiles a little.
He takes the
microphone and begins
to address the crowd.
This is not the sort of
speech people are used
to. What are we to make
of his popular, even
vulgar, baladi tone?
The crowd hangs on his
every word, every
nuance. His up-beat
tone wins them over.
We came here
expecting a monologue
with tragic overtones;
instead we are getting
comic relief.
“Now I just want to
mention the problems
I’ve had with the
American diplomatic
corps.” Nasser, usually
austere, adopts the
mocking tone of
Egypt’s satirical
songwriters and the
language of the poor.
The crowd bursts out
laughing.
“A US diplomat told me
this: if
Mr Allen (1) delivers a
State Department
message to you about
Czech arms sales (2),
you’ve got to send him
packing. But if he
returns to the US
without relaying the
message, Mr Dulles will
send Mr Allen
packing.” Nasser is
acting, relishing his role
as the cunning
Goha (3) battling
foreign behemoths.
Surprised by this style,
some Egyptian
journalists are
murmuring “kuwais
awi” (very good) under
their breath. This timid,
self-conscious man has
finally discovered how
to speak to the people
— with humour. Waves
of laughter, not angry
cries, well up from the
darkness of the square.
Nasser’s tone starts to
change as he outlines
the troubles he has had
with Eugene Black, the
World Bank
president (4). He makes
a bizarre observation:
“Mr Black reminded me
of Ferdinand de Lesseps
[the Frenchman who
designed the Suez
Canal].” Nasser
pronounces the surname
as a hiss.
The speech reaches a
crescendo. Bitter,
vicious and furious,
Nasser rails against “the
imperialists who have
mortgaged our future”.
At first the crowd reacts
tentatively, expecting
Nasser to end his anti-
US diatribe by
announcing pro-Soviet
action. So why has he
invoked de Lesseps?
“We will reclaim the
profits that this
imperialist company —
this state-within-a-state
—made while we were
starving to death.”
People on the official
platform and down
below are applauding
rapturously; they are
stunned and bewildered.
“I would like to
announce that the
Official Gazette is at
this very moment
publishing a statute
nationalising the Suez
Canal Company. At this
very moment
government agents are
taking possession of the
Company’s offices!”
People around us and in
the vast darkness below
react fervently.
Journalists once
sceptical of Nasser’s
regime stand on their
chairs and shout. Nasser
is suddenly overcome
by uncontrollable
laughter; his
announcement is so
shocking, his audacity
incredible. He goes on:
“The Suez Canal will
pay for the Aswan dam
project. Four years ago,
King Farouk fled this
country from this spot.
Tonight I am wresting
control of the Company
on behalf of the
Egyptian people.
Tonight the Suez Canal
will be managed by
Egyptians!” Nasser’s
words and laughter are
drowned by a
groundswell of cheering
and yelling. He drags
himself away from the
rostrum; the few foreign
observers look on in
amazement. Never has a
man thrown himself
into so risky a mission
with such delight.
Thirty minutes earlier,
Egyptian radio had
broadcast that sentence:
“Mr Black reminded me
of Ferdinand de
Lesseps.” Army units
responded to the pre-
arranged signal and
occupied the Suez
Canal Company’s
headquarters in Cairo
and offices in Ismailia,
Port Said, Port Tewfik
and Suez. The military
operation had an almost
un-Egyptian precision.
Mr Ménessier, the
Company’s senior
administrative officer,
was an “honoured
guest” at the Ismailia
governor’s office,
where he listened to the
broadcast of Nasser’s
announcement. Ecstatic
residents of Alexandria
ran along the corniche
as trucks with
loudspeakers drove
around blaring the
speech. The British
warship Jamaica,
moored in Alexandria’s
harbour as part of a
courtesy visit,
dampened the
enthusiasm of some
residents. “It’s a
courageous step, but
God help us all,” said a
friend.
We witnessed the
frenzy in Cairo two
days later when Egypt’s
hero returned. What a
contrast between the
formerly timid
technocrat and the man
who now stood above
the cheering crowd,
waving his arms as if
shipwrecked in a sea of
rapturous people: he
was like a boxing
champion returning in
triumph to his
childhood home. We
heard the same
comments everywhere,
from poor cafés to
middle-class salons:
“Nasser did it! He beat
countries that tried to
destroy him. Egypt has
waited a long time for
this! We must show our
support!”
Similar sentiments were
expressed by the
opposition, including
the nationalists of the
Wafd party, Muslim
Brotherhood
sympathisers and
landowners who had
been victims of
Nasser’s agrarian
reform. The Communist
party and friends were
delirious. The only
reservations were from
people over 50 who
followed the British
press and were troubled
by the intensity of
reactions in London.
But the people we
spoke to asked: “What
can you do about it?”
Were they anxious? It
seemed not.
JEAN LACOUTURE
Jean Lacouture is a
historian and author
most recently of ‘Gamal
Abdel Nasser’
(Bayard/BNF, Paris,
May 2005)
SIMONE LACOUTURE