Arab Art in the Radicalism of Samira Said

In Political and Social Sciences, art is often linked to historical, political, social, and economic stages in the history of each country or region.

For example, Egyptian art reflects the political and social transformations that Egypt has undergone throughout its various phases.

From the era of legends like Umm Kulthum to the artistic "shift" or modernization introduced by Abdel Halim Hafez—who adopted a more "orchestral" approach in melody, lyrics, and song duration—this transition marked a historic turn in art that was initially not well received by Egyptian society, nor by the broader Arab world, before it eventually spread and achieved success.

After the Camp David Accords in 1978 and the onset of Egypt’s economic liberalization, Egyptian music shifted toward the popular genre, especially through Ahmed Adawiya. Songs like "Ya Bent El Sultan" reflected the sense of frustration experienced by Egyptian society amid rapid socio-economic changes and growing class disparities during that transitional phase. This was followed by revolutionary and nationalistic songs expressing the political situation, leading up to the digital era.

At this point, Arabic music faced a dilemma: maintain its identity or chase the trend of fast-paced songs. This led to a relative loss of musical and lyrical value, falling into the trap of imitating Western art (ironically, Western artists have recently begun using Eastern instruments).

This article does not aim to examine the technical evolution of Arabic songs, as that falls outside my area of expertise. Instead, it looks at the chronological, political, social, and economic reflections within art as a whole—an essential approach to understanding the transformations our societies are going through on multiple levels. Egypt is not the only country whose art mirrors its pivotal historical moments; this applies to most Arab nations where music—both in form and content—expresses societal realities and issues.

There’s a long-held belief in Lebanese politics that no figure can establish a national leadership without passing through Beirut. Similarly, Egypt serves as a crucible of Arab identity and a barometer for its health—politically, historically, culturally, and artistically.

A historical view of the organic relationship between art and politics (and by extension, economy and society) shows that just as every era has its intellectuals, politicians, and journalists, art too has its icons who shaped artistic history in specific time periods. In other words, these artists created works that have lasted to this day, even if they couldn't all keep up with the changing times or sustain their success and presence—some rose to prominence at times and faded at others.

This intersection between economic and political states and the shifts in musical art and its societal influence caused Arabic music to experience a form of stagnation—both in style and substance—falling into the trap of producing easy, meaningless content lacking identity.

Yet, there are rare examples that not only maintain a balance in this field but also raise urgent societal issues—now distorted in content and purpose—through art that has often failed to present them properly.

In this context, there is a unique case in the Arab world—possibly even globally—that deserves attention. No doubt, it will be written about and studied in the context of modern music history for its impact on technique, music, and the relationship between form and content amidst social and cultural transformations. That case is the Moroccan artist Samira Said.

Samira Said represents an exceptional school of art. She hasn’t just contributed to Arab musical history and stopped; she continues, to this day, to be at the peak of her intellectual and artistic productivity in modern Arabic music.

It is hard to write about Samira Said, who was raised in what could be called a middle-class family, in a patriotic, pan-Arab political atmosphere. Her father, Abdel Razzaq Bensaeed, was a freedom fighter and resistance member of Morocco’s Istiqlal Party against French colonialism.

Since 1967 and until today, Said has transitioned smoothly and masterfully from traditional Arabic music—which she was exposed to in her youth—to modern classical songs and contemporary youth music.

She embraced contradictions in her choices, combining Eastern music (which she never abandoned) with various forms of modern Western music.

It’s no easy feat to span three generations—or more—and lay the foundation for a new musical style that no one has yet matched, whether from the older or younger generations. Samira Said didn’t only manage to win over today’s youth—who are generally drawn to loud, fast music—but also successfully brought lovers of classical and traditional music into her diverse styles with breathtaking success, venturing into musical realms where the only outcomes were either success or failure, the latter never had a place in her career.

She mastered the creation of a unique musical school that blends authenticity with modernity, strong and classic vocals with fast-paced tunes, simplicity in lyrics with profound meaning and purpose—liberated from monotony and inviting a beautiful kind of rebellion, starting with the self.

From Morocco to Egypt, Palestine, Syria, and across every Arab and human rights cause—from women’s rights to youth empowerment, from broken-hearted love to mindful liberation aimed at building a balanced society and self-love instead of possession—Samira Said takes us from one world to another, from one era to another, without neglect or boredom. She seamlessly transitions us from the golden age to the age of modern music, skillfully incorporating technological effects into a musical mold that might surprise us at first but soon draws us in with childlike joy.

Her music positively challenges us—not just through genre, but also through the content that shakes up outdated or limited ideas and themes—placing us in a beautiful state of tension between form and substance, forcing us to question societal norms that distort rather than preserve or protect.

We find ourselves falling in love through one song, reflecting deeply in another, and revolting against worn-out traditions in others. Samira Said’s courage doesn’t stop at her art but extends to encouraging us to boldly embrace styles we once rejected before truly knowing them.

When discussing courage and challenging outdated norms, some still call on her to retire due to her age, passing judgment on something that is none of their business. First, such a view fails in terms of logic and life’s timeline—it simply does not apply to her. Second, who said that a woman must confine herself and withdraw from any activity at a certain age just because society still sees Arab women as weak or "less than"? These same critics praise Western female artists who remain at the height of their artistic careers as they age, even admiring their ability to maintain their beauty and youthfulness!

Samira Said, without intending to, challenges these societal contradictions. She presents a model for our generation (past, present, and future) to never stop at rigid ideas, and to embrace life as a divine opportunity to innovate and progress in every field, to the last breath with absolute passion.

With her art, Said draws a framework where sound and content interact with the tools of this era in a simple way that adds to the musical library, appeals to the new generation, and helps build the balance we all need to offset the alienation we often feel in our societies.

Her art is in constant search technically for sound engineers and musicians, socially for journalists and researchers, and most importantly, for people of all backgrounds holding a vital place in the history of Arabic music.

Samira Said has said in interviews that she doesn’t like to repeat herself in every song. She always seeks something new for herself, her journey, her audience, and her team. Each song becomes a journey and a heavy challenge to maintain the bond she represents between past and present, with an artistic freshness that continues to astound, resisting all forms of musical and intellectual stagnation.

Some call Samira Said “the Diva,” others “the Legend” and they are right. Her art knows no limits.

 Time does not intimidate her; sometimes, she even races ahead of it. And most importantly, the legacy she is creating and sitting on its throne has not changed her respect for her audience or her deep regard. She considers them an integral part of her world, history, and present and that, itself, is a school of artistic ethics we are in dire need of.

What Samira Said strives to offer in defending women's rights, combating poverty, and supporting youth during these difficult times in our region places upon her additional responsibilities that she cannot simply walk away from.

 For art, like the spoken word, is a weapon through which we either cross into enlightenment and progress or fall deeper into the traps of ignorance.

And while we do not yet know what surprises she has in store for us in the days to come in her art and in her message, one thing is certain: Samira Said's weapon is far from depleted.