At the AUC Tahrir CultureFest, downtown Cairo became a site where culture, technology and collective imagination intersected. Across three days, the festival brought together thousands of visitors around a shared question: What might Cairo become and who gets to imagine it? This year’s edition featured four exhibitions exploring “Future Cairo” from multiple and distinct perspectives.

In the multimedia exhibition, Anah: Conversations with AI, Samia Mehrez ’77, ’79, professor in the Sheikh Hassan Abbas Sharbatly Department of Arab and Islamic Civilizations and founding director of AUC’s Center for Translation Studies, and multimedia artist Amr Ali explored the ethical and emotional dimensions of human-AI collaboration through “Anah,” an AI persona whose name echoes the Arabic “ana” — meaning I.  Reflecting on technology, sustainability and the future of humanity, the exhibition featured sculptural works made from discarded plastic bottles and everyday waste, as well as interactive projections, sound and real-time AI generated text.

Curated by Lumino Experience, I Don’t Know Who I Am Anymore: An Exhibition by Hassan Ragab, features the concept artist, interdisciplinary designer and architect Hassan Ragab using immersive digital projections to track a four-year journey — one that parallels the growth of AI-driven machine generation with his own shifting identity, while exploring the evolving capacity of Large Language Models (LLMs) in interpreting Cairo’s visual culture. Framed through a tourist navigating an unfamiliar city, the exhibition drew parallels with LLMs trained on fragmented cultural data. Cairo appeared as a memory and reconstruction, shaped by machine generation and shifting personal experiences. By immersing the audience in these digital landscapes, the exhibition highlighted the gap between human memory and machine interpretation. 

Time Will Tell explored possible directions for Cairo’s future shaped by environmental, technological and cultural forces — positioning the city as a site for speculation rather than prediction. It brought together AI and artists to imagine Cairo’s future through various lenses. Among the works featured, Polish artist and lecturer Agnieszka Michalczyk’s VR piece moved through time from dense historic alleyways to imagined futures of bridges and vertical expansion. The exhibition, co-curated by Hana El Beblawy ’18 and Malak Shenouda ’18, brought together artists Ahmed Magdy Abdullah, Karim Fouad, Nelly El Sharkawy and Omar Kayal — each exploring different trajectories in the city.

Future C—AI—RO highlighted speculative design by AUC students in the Logo and Visual Identity Design course, taught by Nora Aly, adjunct faculty in the Department of the Arts. Working in teams, students developed visual concepts and identity proposals in response to the festival’s theme “Future Cairo.” Each group presented a unique direction, and one final design was selected to anchor the festival’s visual language. The exhibition concluded with Whispers of the Walls, a projection mapping work that traced the history of Khairy Pasha Palace —where past and present continue to overlap.

When the lights go down in the Falaki Mainstage Theater at AUC Tahrir Square, anything is possible. “I walked in and never came out,” said Ahmed El Attar ’93. “I felt I found my home.” 

If he had to rank the theaters in the city, El Attar said the Falaki Mainstage Theater comes second only to the Cairo Opera House. “It's not just the stage but also the spirit,” he said. “It’s good to have a well-equipped space, but it’s equally important to have people who know what they’re doing. The Falaki theater is one of the best in Cairo.”

El Attar is an independent theatre director, translator, playwright and founder of multiple arts and cultural spaces. His work has shaped contemporary theatre in Egypt and abroad — and it all began by chance.

Starting as a computer science major at AUC, El Attar first entered theatre as an assistant stage manager on a friend’s production. “I changed my major to theatre the next semester,” he recalled. 

After graduating, AUC offered El Attar and two other alumni the opportunity to return and each direct a one-act play. His final production at the Wallace Theater on the Greek Campus was Oedipus the President, before his work moved to the Falaki Mainstage Theater.

At the time, El Attar asked the theatre program for permission to use the stage during the summer. “I would produce and rehearse my shows there, then I’d take the project on tour,” he said, eventually returning to the same process at Falaki every two years, until the theater shut down during the 2011 revolution. 

When the theater reopened in 2012, AUC invited El Attar back in a managerial capacity. At the time, he was already running Studio Emad Eddin, an independent space supporting Cairo’s performing arts scene, and was among the few alumni still working professionally in theatre. He was also preparing to launch D-CAF: Downtown Contemporary Arts Festival, Egypt’s largest international multidisciplinary contemporary arts festival.

His return helped position the Falaki Mainstage Theater as a hub for international collaboration and contemporary performance in Cairo, closely integrating it with D-CAF’s annual programming. Through this partnership, the theater hosted work across performing and visual arts, music and panel discussions — becoming a key venue in Egypt’s independent arts scene.

El Attar’s persistence paid off. In 2015, his work was selected for the Festival d’Avignon in France, one of the world’s most influential theatre festivals. This year, he returns to the Avignon Festival with a new play, Salma, Mon Amour, which will open at the Falaki Mainstage Theater in June 2026 before touring across Europe. “It’s like going to Cannes with a film. You feel confident that you’ve really accomplished something,” he said. 

Yet even as his work travels internationally, its foundations remain rooted in the spaces that shaped it. Universities, he said, play a role in theatre similar to Broadway in the commercial sector, acting as key spaces for alternative and emerging work. In Egypt, institutions such as Cairo and Ain Shams universities sustain active student theatre scenes, with regular productions and annual performances.

Within this landscape, AUC stands out not only for its resources but also for having a dedicated theatre program and the infrastructure to sustain it. “That support made a difference,” he said.
In the late 1980s, then-student El Attar worked as an assistant props master on a major production of the Three Sisters by Chekhov. As he described it, the set required a wide range of props: a dining table, chairs, dinnerware and a Russian samovar. 

“We looked all over Cairo for this samovar,” he said, referring to the traditional metal urn used to heat water for tea. “It was not easy, but I remember finding it in AUC President Richard F. Pedersen’s office at the time. I was really focused on finding this samovar, and he let us borrow it.”

Even in smaller, more incidental moments, there was space to experiment and explore. Like the myriad of characters he brings on stage, El Attar said those involved in theatre come from different backgrounds. “It’s not only about theatre majors; it’s about students from other departments who discover their passion later. They succeed even though they started elsewhere,” he said. 

Everyone’s perspective has value, and there’s no wrong time to get involved. That openness, he added, does not make the path easy because success is not linear. “If you’re a banker or an engineer, if you’re good and you work hard — you can climb the ladder,” he said. “But you could be a great artist and still never make it. In art, there are no guarantees.”

Despite international recognition, the Falaki theater holds a special place in El Attar’s journey. “It feels like I never left Falaki,” he said with nostalgia. 

A sandstorm didn’t stop students from parading down Bartlett Plaza in a multicolored train of flags marking the University’s 42nd International Day this year. The annual gathering has celebrated AUC’s diversity since the first festival on December 11, 1984.

"All of them agreed that students of different nationalities would present a little of their culture, traditions and food … to bring everyone a little closer to home, when many are so far away."

Mai Aly documented the preparations for the first International Day in volume 65, no.3 of The Caravan, AUC’s student newspaper. Earlier forms of cultural celebration had taken place on campus as far back as the 1960s and 1970s, when students gathered to share national dress, music and dance.

The festival’s initial goal was “to have more integration between Egyptian and international students on campus,” said Cheridan Abdel Kader, then director of International Student Services. An enthusiastic planning committee was created with students from across the globe: Egypt, the United States, Greece, India, Mauritius, Oman, Palestine, Pakistan, Eritrea, Armenia, Turkey and Yemen.

“All of them agreed that students of different nationalities would present a little of their culture, traditions and food … to bring everyone a little closer to home, when many are so far away,” Aly wrote on October 25, 1984. 

Much like its successors, the first International Day featured students performing traditional cultural dances: “the Greek Zorba, the Lebanese ‘Dabkah’, the Armenian wedding dance or the Egyptian folklore,” wrote Maha Hussein, editor-in-chief of The Caravan, on December 22, 1984.

“The way in which each nation was presented, both at the displays and at the show, made it clear that although we all belong to the AUC community, our real pride comes from belonging to a nation, whether Egypt, Palestine, Lebanon, Greece, America,” wrote Hussein.

Students from diverse cultural backgrounds have been part of AUC since its earliest years, including large Greek and Armenian communities in Egypt, alongside students arriving from abroad. In 100 Years, 100 Stories, author Andrew Humphreys observes the multiculturalism of AUC: “even seventy years ago, with students from as far distant as Brazil, China, Cuba and Indonesia.” 

The yearly festival has remained rooted in tradition while gradually expanding to reflect the growing diversity of AUC’s student body. By 1988, the fifth edition of the event brought together 17 countries, with The Caravan writers Mona Eltahawy and Ramy Anis stating that the “most popular dishes were the Egyptian ‘ta’mia’ and the Lebanese ‘shawerma.’” 

"The way in which each nation was presented, both at the displays and at the show, made it clear that although we all belong to the AUC community, our real pride comes from belonging to a nation, whether Egypt, Palestine, Lebanon, Greece, America."

The 10th annual International Day in 1994 brought a crowd of over 60 nationalities. “Lebanon, Iraq, Palestine, Jordan, Yemen, Syria and Saudi Arabia all competed to attract people through their food, posters and the handmade articles they offered for sale,” wrote The Caravan writers Rasha Khalil and Dalia Amin.

Held on May 8, 1994, the 10th International Day coincided with the signing of the Gaza-Jericho Agreement. Caravan Weekly reported that as the Palestinian-Israeli peace accord was being signed that Wednesday morning, “the AUC community was involved in its own efforts towards global integration, with its 10th annual International Day.” 

The festival continued to evolve in the years that followed. Horses arrived on campus on International Day in 1996, when the Egyptian booth had a bride and groom on horseback to present a zaffa, or a ceremonial wedding procession. 

Later, at the 13th International Day, Richard Tutwiler, former director of the Desert Development Center and later the Research Institute for a Sustainable Environment (RISE), recalled bringing American flavor to campus. “I cooked, flipped hamburgers. That was our American contribution, feeding people hamburgers and hot dogs. It was hard to find any hot dogs, but not too difficult to make hamburgers,” he said in a 2015 oral history.

Nearly 30 years after the first International Day, the 2014 event transformed into a match day with an AUC World Cup theme. The cultural celebration hosted foosball and PlayStation soccer tournaments in anticipation of the 2014 FIFA World Cup. As then student Mohamed Galal put it, “We thought if we can’t go to the World Cup, we’ll have to bring the World Cup experience to AUC.”

The 42nd International Day will be remembered for the sandy weather, but students still connected with one another. Su Huangyi, a master’s student in Middle East studies, participated this year to experience how AUC’s celebration differed from those during his undergraduate years at Peking University. 

“It was heartwarming to meet so many AUCians who had been to Singapore before and left with very good impressions of my island home,” he said.

He represented Singapore in this year’s festival and wore a batik shirt — a hand-dyed garment worn in Singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia. Huangyi’s batik was light brown and blue, which he “thought would pair well with the sandy tones of AUC’s architecture,” he said. “But who would’ve expected a sandstorm to make everything even browner?”

For Jena Baitelmal, a Libyan-American freshman studying biology, this International Day was a chance to represent Libya and learn about different cultures. “I thought it would be a good opportunity to meet more Libyans and help share my culture,” Baitelmal said. 

As a cornerstone of student life, the role of International Day is best captured in the words of Hussein at the very start of this tradition, describing the aim as an effort for students “to bring their colleagues a little closer to their homes.”

Seeing is no longer the same as believing. With the rise of major social media platforms in the mid-to-late 2000s, social media has gradually become a key source of news for many people. Within this ecosystem, consumption has shifted toward superficial skimming of headlines rather than deep engagement. A 2016 study found that 60% of links to Washington Post articles shared on social media were never opened. Users often share headlines because they either confirm existing beliefs or feel provoked, without necessarily reading the article. 

With social media becoming a main source of news for many as well as an influx of AI-generated videos and deep fakes deployed on social media — by entertainers, fraudsters and political actors alike — consumers struggle to distinguish between authenticity and illusion. Khaled Ezzelarab, associate professor of practice in the Department of Journalism and Mass Communication and director of AUC’s Middle East studies program, believes that this phenomenon is further weakening public trust in the media ecosystem as the lines between information and misinformation become increasingly blurred. AUCToday spoke with Ezzelarab to learn more.

Media literacy is not just about teaching practical skills. It is also about how information is produced, shaped and circulated, especially in an environment increasingly affected by AI

What effect does the rise of social media and AI-generated content have on journalism? 

In terms of production, the social media ecosystem favors virality, speed and volume, and that has reshaped journalism. Egyptian news outlets are now largely driven by what is trending online, which influences not only whether a story is covered but how it is told. 

Instead of producing one comprehensive narrative, journalists are often required to publish multiple updates — announcements, reactions and follow-ups — because platforms reward constant output. In many cases, this has led to lower-quality reporting driven by platform logic rather than editorial judgment.

What are the advantages and disadvantages of this shift?

One advantage is that social media has challenged dominant narratives. Many people, especially the younger audiences, now consume major events primarily through social media. For example, the war in Gaza has been widely circulated through social media, contributing to a noticeable shift in how Western audiences engaged with this issue. This has made it possible for the public to witness events that might otherwise go unseen, as anyone with a smartphone can act as a citizen journalist. 

On the flip side, the spread of misinformation — false information shared unintentionally — and disinformation — deliberately misleading content — has accelerated. The idea that social media is a completely open space is not entirely accurate because platforms and governments impose significant restrictions, shaping what can and cannot circulate.

Why does misinformation spread so quickly in times of crisis?

In moments of political conflict, natural disasters or uncertainty, audiences actively look for information to make sense of unfolding events. Algorithms respond by amplifying “news” content — including misinformation and disinformation — because they are designed to maximize engagement. Emotional responses also play a key role. Fear, anger and uncertainty make audiences more reactive, and platforms prioritize content that triggers those responses — accelerating the spread of misleading information.

“It has become easy to produce convincing AI-generated videos, making it harder to distinguish between what is real and what is fake.”

How are AI and deep fakes reshaping media credibility, and how should the audience respond?

It has become easy to produce convincing AI-generated videos, making it harder to distinguish between what is real and what is fake. Personally, I have stopped watching videos on social media feeds altogether because there isn’t a reliable way to verify them.

Ironically, this may mark a tipping point. As misinformation becomes more widespread, audiences may begin returning to traditional forms of journalism, where a verification process is more established. At the same time, no single source is sufficient. Audiences must rely on several outlets, as navigating this landscape requires a more critical approach to media consumption.

What role should higher education play in improving media literacy?

Universities have a different role from news organizations. While newsrooms are focused on daily reporting, universities can and should function as spaces for reflection, research and critical engagement with media systems. 

Media literacy is not just about teaching practical skills. It is also about how information is produced, shaped and circulated, especially in an environment increasingly affected by AI. At AUC, for example, education extends beyond the classroom through courses on media literacy, alongside other initiatives like inviting guest lectures and engagement with media professionals. These spaces allow students to move beyond consumption only and begin questioning how media systems operate.

There is music in the air at the AUC Tahrir CultureFest. Moments after TEDx panelists discuss artificial intelligence, musicians tune electric guitars and pluck qanuns (traditional Middle Eastern string instruments) on stage.

The festival placed artificial intelligence at the center of conversations about the future of Cairo and the Arabic-speaking world. Artists across the region are already experimenting with how the technology can be used in film, television and music.

This Ramadan saw the release of the first fully AI-produced series, Alf Leila w Leila - Hammal Sisan, an adaptation of the classic A Thousand and One Nights. BroadcastPro Middle East reported that AI was also used in the opening sequences of 15 television series in Egypt.

“Now you can’t make generic stuff because AI can do it. Real artists are going to stand out. What they make is different, and AI cannot replicate that.”

Beyond television, AI is reshaping music production. Generative tools such as Suno now allow users to create soundtracks from simple text prompts. In Egypt, composer Amr Mostafa’s December 2025 track “Be3teeny Leh,” featuring artists Ziad Zaza and Moataz Mady, was partly composed using AI tools.

Speaking at the closing performance of the AUC Tahrir CultureFest, Mostafa reflected on the creative role of technology: “If you prompt AI well, it gives something unique. But it’s recycling music you’ve heard before, which makes it familiar,” he said.
That raises a deeper question: How does AI interact with the Arab musical tradition that stretches back to the fifth century?

Artificial Intelligence and the Arab Tradition

As AI continues to transform music creation, Arab music itself has long evolved through layers of cultural and technological exchange. From the Silk Road to the Ottoman Empire, music traditions were developed through movement, trade and adaptation. Today’s mahraganat, or Egyptian street music, emerged alongside synthesizers and global electronic dance influences.

At the core of these traditions lies the maqam system, the tonal backbone of Arab music. A maqam is built from scales, melodic phrases and intervals that carry distinct emotional qualities. Lebanese singer Fairuz sang her 1993 song Ya Rayt Mennon in maqam Bayati, one of the most widely used maqams in Arabic music, often associated with a sense of longing.

"Different performers often changed the maqam and melody of a qasida because what matters are the words and interaction on stage."

Many maqams use microtones — intervals smaller than a semitone. Unlike the 12-tone system in standard music, these smaller pitch variations allow for more fluid melodic expressions. Because the piano is arranged in semitones, with each adjacent pair of keys representing one, it has no key for a quarter tone. Such a pitch would lie between two keys, as if it were an imaginary one.

Fretless instruments such as the oud and rababa allow musicians to move between pitches, unlike standard tuning systems. Similar tonal systems also exist in parts of Asia, as well as in certain European traditions.

Wael ElMahallawy, professor and chair of the Department of the Arts who teaches music technology, qanun and Arab music theory at AUC, noted that music technologies once built on Western systems are increasingly incorporating Arabic maqams and rhythmic patterns such as the tabla percussion. He said this shift reflects growing regional interest.

AI companies are also expanding access to Arab music tools. On February 18, Google DeepMind released the Arabic beta of its Lyria 3 model, which generates short music clips — including customized Ramadan-themed ones — from text prompts.

“Last Ramadan, roughly 50 to 60 percent of TV music was created using AI software,” ElMahallawy said. In a Ramadan mini-series this year, he used AI for backing tracks while performing lead piano and qanun parts himself.

ElMahallawy described AI as a supporting tool rather than a replacement for musical knowledge, warning that without traditional grounding, “the Arab tradition will disappear” if music shifts entirely toward Western models.

Talking Technology

At AUC, ElMahallawy has used artificial intelligence to develop Dokan Bach, an archival project that transcribes difficult-to-find Arabic songs into sheet music. Much of the tradition has historically been preserved orally, from qasidas — epic laudatory poems first performed across the Arabian Peninsula — to renditions by 20th-century Arab music legends like Umm Kulthum.  
Before notation systems, qasidas evolved from public recitation into musical performance accompanied by instruments, forming the classic Arab ensemble, the takht.

Over 300 maqams exist across the Arab world, each with distinct traditions. Efforts to unify and document them culminated in the 1932 Cairo Congress of Arab Music, where scholars codified around 70 main maqams. Much of the music that followed remained undocumented.

"Relying on AI to learn the maqam system can make music repetitive over time and lead to a loss of all of your identity, flavor, culture and music."

For ElMahallawy, this is where AI becomes useful. “I use software to write music notation. Now I use Suno or Fader to split the stems so that I can isolate vocals,” he explained.
Within this tradition, improvisation is central. “Different performers often changed the maqam and melody of a qasida because what matters are the words and interaction on stage,” said Ashraf Fouad, adjunct faculty who teaches Music in the Arab Tradition at AUC.

This balance between structure and improvisation continues to influence Arab music today, including how it is being reshaped through digital tools and artificial intelligence. 
David Rafferty, associate professor of practice and director of AUC’s music program, said composers have historically been “early adopters of technology,” using it to expand sound possibilities rather than replace them.

Rafferty combines composition with programming to create complex real-time audiovisual systems where sound and visuals respond during performance. Built in coding environments like openFrameworks, the visuals shift in response to live sound manipulation.
The programming is complex, but the introduction of AI has significantly sped up the process. “It’s taken the rate at which I produce this and just — boom, done. I can implement projects faster now,” said Rafferty.

This approach extends into his teaching. In Generative Type Experiments, a weeklong exhibition at the Sharjah Art Gallery, students in the Creative Coding course in the interactive media design minor collaborated with those in Rafferty’s Music Technology class to produce interactive audiovisual works. Design students — taught by Jochen Braun, professor of practice and director of the graphic design program — developed typographic systems, while Music Technology students creating the accompanying sound.

"It’s taken the rate at which I produce this and just — boom, done. I can implement projects faster now."

In one installation Rafferty developed for the exhibition participants manipulated both sound and visuals in real time through phones, creating a responsive, interactive environment. “This is the kind of stuff that AI accelerates,” Rafferty said.

The Future

The impact of artificial intelligence is also a growing worry among students, Rafferty said. “I’m concerned about their future more than anything else because they’re concerned about their own opportunities,” he reflected.

Tolulope Balogun, a music production and recording arts junior at Elon University who is spending a semester abroad at AUC, is a multi-instrumentalist who also produces his own music. He sees AI as a sign of rapid technological progress and believes it will raise the bar for what counts as good music.

“Now you can’t make generic stuff because AI can do it,” he said. “Real artists are going to stand out. What they make is different, and AI cannot replicate that.”

Fouad said technology can enhance human capability when used correctly. “If AI can produce for you, fine, but it should be under your supervision. You have to challenge it. If you let AI lead you, then your mind is frozen,” he said.

ElMahallawy emphasized that AI cannot replace musical knowledge or tradition. “Relying on AI to learn the maqam system can make music repetitive over time and lead to a loss of all of your identity, flavor, culture and music,” he said.
 

In the soft shade of the olive trees in the AUC gardens, you can often find Laila Mamdouh reading, studying and taking in the fragrant flowers. Mamdouh is a long way from Boston, where she grew up, but studying at AUC has been an essential step in connecting her two worlds as an Egyptian American. Now a political science junior, she carries that sense of connection through everything she does, from her studies to her internships and cocurricular activities.

“As an Arab American, my identity is unique. I can fit into different communities and use my perspective to bridge them,” she explained. Mamdouh takes this perspective into all parts of her life in both Cairo and Boston, actively linking her two homes.

“I became a student ambassador so I could connect with everyone, from potential students to the Board of Trustees, and share my story."

Mamdouh’s journey began in high school, when she attended AUC’s summer boot camp. She quickly fell in love with not only the AUC campus but also the conversations she had with her Egyptian peers, realizing how much she wanted to connect with her roots. Attending AUC would help her achieve this goal. “I had a really strong belief that I was gonna get into AUC, so I booked my tickets before I even got my acceptance letter,” she said. 

When Mamdouh first arrived in Egypt, the pace and richness of what surrounded her made it difficult to focus on just one thing. Drawn to everything, she explored widely and ultimately narrowed down her choice of major to political science. Part of that decision was shaped by how distinct she found the field in the region. “There is a lot of consensus in the United States, especially where I grew up, whereas in Egypt, there is so much diversity of opinion. My eyes have been opened to so many possibilities that I wouldn’t see anywhere else in the world,” she said.
Through her coursework at AUC, Mamdouh has focused on Egyptian history, helping fill gaps in her understanding as someone raised abroad. “Studying in Egypt makes me feel like I’m in the hub of everything.”

Mamdouh brings her dual identity beyond the classroom and into her professional pursuits, interning at the digital publication Arab America, based in Washington, D.C., which covers Arab-American culture, history and politics. “I get to write about political science and identity from the lens of being both Egyptian and American,” she explained. She covers topics ranging from Egyptian-American relations to cultural identity. “I wrote one article about how I can crave Chipotle and shawarma at the same time. It's like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit in the American or Arab puzzle, but that just means I get to be my own piece. There’s a beauty in that paradox.” 

"People think these worlds are opposed to each other, but there are more similarities in Egyptian and American cultures than you might think."

Mamdouh quickly embedded herself in campus life, leading tours, serving as director of student engagement at the Political Science Student Association and rising from student ambassador to program leader. “I became a student ambassador so I could connect with everyone, from potential students to the Board of Trustees, and share my story. I love giving tours and showing off my favorite parts of campus, which of course include the gardens.”

That instinct to connect extends beyond AUC’s walls, shaping how Mamdouh thinks about what comes next. “I would like to work at the International Court of Justice or in the United Nations so I can bridge those two worlds,” she said. For her, those worlds aren’t as distant as they might seem. “People think these worlds are opposed to each other, but there are more similarities in Egyptian and American cultures than you might think. I want to be in a position where I can make a meaningful difference for people.” 

Drawing on her experiences and passion, Mamdouh hopes to take hands-on roles, alongside leaders and pioneers, working at the intersection of her North-African Arab and American identities.

In the meantime, if you pass by the gardens on a sunny day, you might just find Mamdouh taking in the serenity of the waterfall, preparing for her next campus tour — and for a future spent bridging worlds through politics.