Editorial| Al Manassa in English: Claiming the Right to Be Heard

It might be tempting to begin with a flourish — a celebration, perhaps. But in truth, we launch Al Manassa English not out of triumph, but necessity.

For decades gone by, Egypt has rarely suffered from a presence shortage in the global press. Analyses abound, think tanks ruminated, correspondents flew in and out with astonishing confidence. And yet, for all the noise while it lasted, the Egyptian story remained, in large part, untold.

We are not switching languages. English now serves as the lingua franca of collective dissent as much as dominance. Because we need to connect with the world, and because we deserve more than footnotes in someone else's dispatches; we are widening the circle. 

We find ourselves in a moment of profound rupture across the nation, and the region beyond. The illusions have worn thin: the economic miracle, the stability myth, the noble saviors in uniform. What remains is inflation that devours wages, silence that chokes public life, and an aching, collective fatigue.

And yet, as always, the public pulse beneath the surface, unseen, but unyielding. Young people carve out spaces of resistance and reinvention. Workers demand dignity. Artists refuse erasure. The poor survive, brilliantly and stubbornly, under a system that starves them, silences them, and remembers them only when they revolt. 

All of this demands to be chronicled. In the language of the world, yes, but without losing the soul of the street. We do not propose to "speak for Egypt." No one can. But we will speak from it honestly, rigorously, and with no small measure of discomfort for those who would prefer silence.

But why now?

Perhaps the better question is: why has it taken so long?

For 9 years, Al Manassa has reported in Arabic on Egypt and the region — and on how global dynamics leave their mark on both. Reporting without fear, speaking truth in difficult times, fighting for our own survival, challenging censorship and defending the right of the public to know. 

Now it is time to carry that same mission to English readers, not as a rebranding, but as an expansion of audience, of reach, and of responsibility. This includes young Egyptians who find themselves detached from Arabic-language news — not necessarily from privilege, as many assume, but from language barriers shaped by education.

Our surveys show that many students in language schools engage with news, if at all, through English. Additionally, second and third generation Egyptians in diaspora, navigating complex identities while staying connected to the country that shapes their identity are a key reason why we take this step. Today we also reach out to international readers who seek a deeper, more honest view of Egypt and the region than what official bulletins and passing headlines provide.

We do not promise you neutrality. We are not above the fray. We are in it, sleeves rolled, searching for clarity in the rubble of euphemism and spectacle. What we offer is integrity: context where there is distortion, memory where forgetting has been carefully engineered, and a commitment to complexity.

Above all, we resist the flattening of the Egyptian condition into mere numbers and official statements — abstractions removed from the texture and urgency of everyday life.

You will not always agree with us. We hope you don’t. But we hope you read us with the seriousness we strive to bring to our work.

This is not a launch. It is a declaration: that Egyptians have the right not only to speak, but to be listened to. In Arabic, in English, in any tongue we choose.

This is for the conversation we started 9 years ago. It now includes a wider audience, better equipped to stay informed, reflect together, and help shape the future we all share. Because the conversation must go on.

Welcome to Al Manassa English!