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| De Lesseps statue in its new place |
"My grandfather dug the Suez Canal
With bare hands and heart of steel
Raised the flag above the cannons
Guarding Egypt with zeal
Then came Gamal, the hero of all
He freed the land and answered the call..."
These lyrics echoed in my mind one evening soft, proud, rhythmic. A patriotic song I’d grown up hearing, its verses like distant echoes of struggle and pride. But amid its nostalgic beat, a question unexpectedly broke through:
What happened to the statue of Ferdinand de Lesseps that once stood at the entrance of Port Said?
I remembered it from textbook images his outstretched arm welcoming ships into the Suez Canal. Yet, in all my visits to Port Said as a child, I had never seen it.
Was it taken down? Why? Where did it go?
That moment of curiosity turned into something deeper a personal investigation that led me across cities, archives, and shifting memories. What began with a song became a journey into history, identity, and the power of monuments.
The spark :From Alexandria to Port Said
As a student of Mass Communication in Alexandria, I’m used to analyzing stories. But this time, I wanted to follow one in real life.
So, I packed my bag, notebook in hand, and took a bus from Alexandria to Port Said. It was more than a trip it was a step into the layered past of a city once at the heart of global trade and colonial ambition.
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| The old place of De Lesseps statue in Port Said |
Once there, I walked the streets, spoke with locals, and visited the spot where the statue once stood now just an empty pedestal looking out over the Mediterranean. Some older residents remembered the statue vividly. Others spoke of its removal with pride, recalling the events of 1956. A few simply said, “Good riddance.”
Yet the story felt incomplete. Where was the statue now? What had become of it?
Who Was De Lesseps ?
To understand the statue’s journey, I needed to understand the man behind it. Ferdinand de Lesseps was a French diplomat and entrepreneur who led the construction of the Suez Canal. In 1854, he secured a concession from Khedive Said to begin the project. He later founded the Universal Suez Canal Company, and by 1869, the canal dug by over 120,000 Egyptian workers was opened.
But the story wasn't as glorious for Egyptians. According to the State Information Service, tens of thousands of workers died during the canal’s construction due to forced labor, poor conditions, and disease.
Despite this, in 1899, a statue of De Lesseps was erected at the canal's northern entrance in Port Said, sculpted by French artist Emmanuel Frémiet. It depicted De Lesseps with one arm raised, as if guiding ships. To the French, he was a visionary. To many Egyptians, he was a symbol of foreign dominance and suffering.
1956: When the statue fell
Everything changed in 1956. When President Gamal Abdel Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal, Britain, France, and Israel launched a military assault known as the Tripartite Aggression. Port Said was bombed, but Egypt resisted and emerged with pride.
After foreign troops withdrew, the people of Port Said took down De Lesseps’ statue on December 23, 1956. It wasn’t just the toppling of a monument it was an act of symbolic resistance. The statue was then moved to storage facilities belonging to the Suez Canal Authority.
Years passed. The statue disappeared from public view, stored away like a relic no one wanted to talk about.
Another bus ride : from Alexandria to Ismailia
That could have been the end of the story. But during my research, I discovered something unexpected: in 2020, the statue was relocated once more from Port Said to the newly established Suez Canal Museum in Ismailia.
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| The moment of changing the statue's place |
So, I boarded another bus, this time heading to Ismailia.
Inside the museum, the statue no longer stood on a pedestal. Instead, it was exhibited as an artifact silent. A museum guide explained that the goal was not to celebrate De Lesseps, but to document all aspects of the canal’s story, including the painful ones.
This act of reframing removing the statue from the streets and placing it inside a museum felt significant. The statue had not been erased, but recontextualized.
A voice that resonated
While I was exploring the emotional landscape behind the statue’s history, I came across a powerful quote by journalist Abdullah Al-Fakharani, who once said in an open letter:
“Freedom of expression is not a luxury; it is a necessity for any society that seeks progress and justice.” (Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor)
His words echoed what I had been feeling: the statue’s removal, its exile, and eventual display in a museum weren’t just about stone. They were about the right to define our own symbols, to challenge imposed narratives, and to decide which parts of our past deserve to be honored in public.
France's request and Egypt's response
Interestingly, in 1998, France formally requested that Egypt reinstall the statue at its original location. The request was part of a broader diplomatic effort to celebrate “shared heritage.”
But Egypt refused. For many Egyptians, returning the statue to Port Said would be a betrayal of memory. As Contested Histories documents, the refusal was rooted in a national consciousness that viewed the statue as a glorification of exploitation.
Still, Egypt didn’t destroy the statue. Instead, it placed it where history belongs in a museum, not a harbor.
A reflection
By the end of my journey, I realized I hadn't just traced the path of a statue I’d traced the evolution of Egyptian identity. From colonial control to resistance, from silence to reinterpretation.
To some, the statue represents engineering brilliance.
To others, it’s a painful reminder of forced labor and foreign rule.
To me, it’s a powerful lesson about storytelling, memory, and the spaces where they collide.
The statue of Ferdinand de Lesseps no longer watches over Port Said, but it still speaks. And maybe, in its new, quiet corner of the museum, it finally says something worth listening to.
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| De Lesseps in its new corner |