From the very first glance, it is difficult for the eye not to pause at the image: a young Egyptian doctor in his early forties with a light beard, standing beside his Muslim wife of Indian descent—a veiled psychiatrist—in a scene that seems to summarize the « New America » with all its diversity and transformations. On the other side of the scene stands Donald Trump, who has closed out his eightieth year, representing another generation of American politics.
It is not a matter of comparing two individuals, but rather two visions of America: the America of new generations, immigrants, and their children, versus the political America whose elites are aging, and where the gap is widening between those elites and generations seeking a new language for justice, the economy, war, and peace. Hence comes the significance of Abdul El-Sayed’s victory in the Democratic primary elections in Michigan.
The result should not be read merely as a victory for a Muslim candidate of Egyptian origin, nor simply as a defeat for a candidate backed by the Democratic establishment and AIPAC. What is most important is that El-Sayed won, albeit by a narrow margin, in a battle where the financial and political scales leaned heavily toward his rival—after pro-Israel groups spent tens of millions of dollars to support their candidate and defeat him. Even more telling is that these very funds turned into campaign material that El-Sayed used to present himself as an independent candidate, free from political money and lobby groups.
Unintentionally, the extreme Israeli government contributed to turning unconditional support for Israel into an issue of political accountability.
Here lies one of the most significant indicators of the Michigan elections: political money is no longer necessarily a guarantee of victory; rather, it can turn into a burden on the entity spending it. The question is no longer just: Who stands behind the candidate? but also: Why are these entities spending all this money to prevent him from reaching office? This shift reveals a growing aversion within sectors of the Democratic base toward corporate influence and lobby groups, and demonstrates a desire for candidates who present themselves as representatives of the voters—not the institutions funding their campaigns.
However, El-Sayed’s victory cannot be understood outside the broader shift that the Democratic Party and American society as a whole have been witnessing over the past three years. Credit for this shift goes, to some degree, to the genocide in Gaza, which contributed to accelerating a quiet yet profound political wave that had been forming for years regarding Israeli influence within American institutions. For sectors of American voters, Israel is no longer a distant foreign issue detached from their daily lives; it has become linked to taxes, public spending, social justice, and the independence of American decision-making. The average American has begun asking questions that were taboo until recently, such as: Why does America support Israel? How much is this support? Under what conditions? And should taxpayers’ money go to a state using it in a war that raises so much controversy, while Americans suffer from the rising costs of housing, healthcare, and food?
In this sense, Gaza entered the American home. First, through images of victims and the tragedies of war—especially those of children and women. Second, because of American military and financial support for Israel, which made foreign policy part of the domestic debate. Furthermore, Israel and its far-right governments unintentionally contributed to turning unconditional support for Israel from a consensus issue into one subject to political accountability. This does not mean that Americans as a whole have become anti-Israel, nor that AIPAC has lost its influence; rather, it means that the old political immunity has begun to erode, especially among young people and within the Democratic Party base.
This highlights the significance of El-Sayed’s rise alongside Zohran Mamdani, preceded by young Democratic Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, with Bernie Sanders—the old politician acting as the godfather of this progressive movement—standing behind them all, paving the way for a younger, bolder, and braver generation. We are witnessing a new leftist current within the Democratic Party that finds a growing electoral foundation in anger over corporate and moneyed influence, rejection of the war in Gaza and against Iran, the purchasing power crisis, and demands for healthcare and social justice.
Paradoxically, Trump himself contributed to pushing a segment of America in this direction. An American who believed the « America First » promises wants to see tangible results in their daily life. When the costs of food, housing, and healthcare rise, and internal pressures coincide with external wars and tensions, the question becomes legitimate: Why does the state spend billions of dollars abroad while citizens are unable to bear the burdens of life at home? This is how foreign policy intersects with the economy, linking war directly to taxes and purchasing power.
Thus, one can understand the circulating phrase attributed to Trump: in the past, a single bad word about Israel was enough to end a political career, whereas today, a single good word about it is capable of doing the exact same thing. Whether Trump actually said this phrase or not, it summarizes a real and deep political shift within America: Israel is no longer necessarily immune from competition, and criticizing its government is no longer an electoral death sentence before voters.
Nevertheless, it would be a mistake to view Abdul El-Sayed’s victory as evidence of a sweeping American shift against Israel. It was a narrow win in a primary election, and Michigan—though a swing state—is not all of America. A more accurate assessment is to speak of the erosion of the old consensus within sectors of the Democratic base, and the declining ability of absolute support for Israel and AIPAC-linked spending to guarantee victory in certain elections. The issue is not that America has turned against Israel, but that Israel’s standing within the American political system is no longer what it used to be—a shift that is by no means trivial, and major credit for its occurrence goes to the sacrifices of the people of Gaza.
Here emerges the most painful Arab paradox: Why didn’t the war on Gaza and its associated geopolitical shifts produce an Abdul El-Sayed or a Mamdani in the Arab world? The answer is not related to a lack of competence, ambition, or political courage, but rather to the nature of the political environment. In the United States, an immigrant or the child of an immigrant can enter the political arena, criticize the establishment and political money, disagree with Israel, run for election, and win. In most countries of the Arab world, however, politics is governed by low ceilings of freedom, weak and controlled parties, and tightly managed public spheres—making the emergence of similar models not only extremely difficult, but also fraught with risks that threaten a person’s life and liberty.
The deserts of the Arab world do not lack minds and ambitions, but rather the political climate that allows them to emerge.
Perhaps what best encapsulates this distance between what happens there and what fails to happen here is Abdul El-Sayed’s remark that had he stayed in Egypt, he might have become a taxi driver. There is no insult intended toward those in this honorable profession, but rather a symbolism of a life trajectory that could have been vastly different had he remained in a closed, authoritarian political and economic environment. The ultimate irony is that he moved from the ambition of driving a taxi in Egypt to the potential of running (one day) to lead the most powerful country in the world. The difference is not in the steering wheel he sits behind, but in the road that leads to it—not in the driver, but in the system that allows him to dream, rise, and compete. El-Sayed’s story reminds us in the Arab world that the distance between a taxi driver and a country’s driver is not a social distance, but a distance of freedom and democracy measured in many light-years.
From Tangier to Salalah, the deserts of the Arab world do not lack minds and ambitions, but rather the political climate that allows them to emerge. Therefore, El-Sayed’s story is not merely that of a young Egyptian doctor who defeated a candidate backed by tens of millions from the world’s most powerful lobby; it is the story of an America changing under the influence of a new generation, to the rhythm of a growing economic and social crisis, and amidst the rise of a new Democratic Left. All these transformations would not have occurred were it not for the genocide in Gaza and its ongoing repercussions.
Ali Anouzla
United States Michigan Abdulrahman Al-Sayid
Soyez le premier à commenter