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Egypt was racked by anti-British protests and seditious political factions bent on running the foreign troops out of the country-and perhaps the king as well. Like many of his compatriots, he was radicalized by the British occupation and contemptuous of the jaded King Farouk’s complicity. The ideas that would give birth to what would be called Islamic fundamentalism were not yet completely formed in his mind indeed, he would later say that he was not even a very religious man before he began this journey, although he had memorized the Quran by the age of ten, and his writing had recently taken a turn toward more conservative themes. Politically, he was a fervent Egyptian nationalist and anti-communist, a stance that placed him in the mainstream of the vast bureaucratic middle class. At the time, Qutb (his name is pronounced kuh-tub) held a comfortable post as a supervisor in the Ministry of Education. Powerful and sympathetic friends hastily arranged his departure. It had also earned the fury of King Farouk, Egypt’s dissolute monarch, who had signed an order for his arrest. His literary and social criticism had made him one of his country’s most popular writers.
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And yet, as a child from a mud-walled village in Upper Egypt, he had already surpassed the modest goal he had set for himself of becoming a respectable member of the civil service. For a man who held his dignity so close, the prospect of returning to the classroom at the age of forty-two may have seemed demeaning. He always evoked an air of formality, favoring dark three-piece suits despite the searing Egyptian sun. His eyes betrayed an imperious and easily slighted nature. The stern bachelor was slight and dark, with a high, sloping forehead and a paintbrush moustache somewhat narrower than the width of his nose. The traveler had never been out of his native country. The new world loomed over the horizon, victorious, rich, and free. “Should I hold on to my Islamic beliefs, facing the many sinful temptations, or should I indulge those temptations all around me?” It was November 1948. “Should I go to America as any normal student on a scholarship, who only eats and sleeps, or should I be special?” he wondered. The Martyr In a first-class stateroom on a cruise ship bound for New York from Alexandria, Egypt, a frail, middle-aged writer and educator named Sayyid Qutb experienced a crisis of faith.