The shadowed debut of Egypt’s Minister of Culture

In a 2015 interview, Jihan Zaki was asked about her vision for the Ministry of Culture. Her answer was simple: “To erase ugliness.” Today, 11 years later, she sits at the helm of that very ministry. However, instead of roll out plans for a cultural renaissance, her appointment has been met with a digital firestorm of “corruption” allegations and a high-profile intellectual property scandal.

The moment Zaki—a Professor of Ancient Egyptian Civilization and a researcher at the Sorbonne—was named minister, the Egyptian internet fractured. On one side were the flowery congratulations; on the other, a wave of critics rehashing claims of financial misconduct from her previous posts and pointing to a court ruling that labeled her a literary pirate.

Born in Heliopolis in 1966, Zaki possesses an extensive academic and professional background tied to state cultural institutions and international heritage organizations. After earning her bachelor's degree in Tourism and Hotel Management in 1987, she represented the Secretary-General of the Supreme Council of Antiquities at UNESCO in 2003. She later managed the Nubia Salvage Fund in 2010 and served as the Ministry of Culture’s advisor for international organizations in 2011.

In 2012, Zaki broke a glass ceiling as the first woman to lead the Egyptian Academy of Arts in Rome since its founding in 1929. She was appointed to Parliament in 2021 and was awarded the Knight of the Legion of Honor by French President Emmanuel Macron last year. Yet, this distinguished resume has done little to quell the storm of accusations.

The Rome Academy allegations

Following the news of her appointment, an investigative report titled “How Did Corruption Infiltrate the Grand Egyptian Museum,” originally published by Zawya3, resurfaced online. The report mentions Zaki eight times, alleging financial and administrative irregularities during her leadership of the Rome Academy (2012–2019) and during a subsequent senior role at the Grand Egyptian Museum (GEM).

The investigation relied on accounts regarding Zaki’s purported tenure as CEO of the GEM between May and October 2024. It cited a 2019 report by a committee formed by former Culture Minister Inas Abdel Dayem, led by Ahmed Salah El-Din Bahgat and including State Council Judge Essam Mohamed Refaat.

Speaking to Al Manassa, Refaat denied leaking the report’s details to the press, clarifying that he only explained the committee’s legal framework to inquiring journalists. While he refrained from discussing specific documents, he confirmed the committee completed its work and submitted all findings to Minister Abdel Dayem.

Refaat noted that while “friction” between Zaki and the Academy staff may have led to internal confusion, it did not absolve her of responsibility. “The established principle in public service is the responsibility of the official,” he said, citing issues like unpaid insurance for workers and subsequent fines.

Among the allegations bubbling up from the committee’s report is the saga of the Rome Academy’s “scrapped” belongings. According to the Zawya3 investigation, the committee found that the process of offloading the Academy’s surplus was handled with a distinct lack of the “scientific” rigor usually required to pad a state treasury.

The investigation paints a picture of a reversed economy: instead of auctioning off state property for a profit, the Academy was essentially paying private companies to take the stuff away. The report lists equipment from archaeological exhibitions and various fixtures that, over several years, were disposed of at the Academy’s own expense.

Refaat, however, frames this not as a heist, but as a grueling logistical puzzle unique to working on foreign soil. He explained that the ephemeral nature of cultural events—the sets, the decor, the heavy logistics of recurring shows—creates a practical nightmare. Once the applause dies down, the materials turn into a massive, unusable stockpile. Holding onto them isn’t just sentimental; it’s expensive.

Under Italian regulations, Refaat noted, the only way to clear out some of this clutter was to hire local firms to haul and transport it. Meanwhile, the Academy was drowning in inventory, eventually renting three separate warehouses at roughly 200 euros a month each just to house the leftovers.

When the committee returned to Cairo, they sought an official roadmap for clearing the hoard. The directive they received was to initiate a formal “scientific” mechanism—a move that finally allowed the Academy to sell the materials as scrap and, as Refaat put it, stop the “financial drain” of storage fees. 

“Corruption” at the GEM

Beyond the Rome files, rumors circulated claiming Zaki was involved in the embezzlement of an ancient statue. These reports alleged she was dismissed as GEM CEO the day after its soft opening on Oct. 17, 2024, following the discovery of “accounting manipulations.”

However, these claims appear to be based on a false premise. General Atef Moftah, former supervisor of the GEM project, told Al Manassa that Zaki never held an executive position at the museum, and described the May 2024 rumors of her appointment as a “deliberate leak intended to harm her.” According to Moftah, Zaki was merely one of three names floated for the role; the premature exposure of her candidacy effectively torpedoed her chances, leading to her exclusion from the final short list. The museum’s actual first CEO, Dr. Ahmed Ghoneim, wasn't appointed until October 2024.

Al Manassa conducted an extensive search for any official decree that would place Zaki in the role, coming up empty. What remains is a trail of scattered news reports citing anonymous sources within the Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities, none of which were accompanied by a formal government resolution. Similarly, no reliable record exists of her supposed dismissal.

The theory that Zaki’s tenure was a phantom is further bolstered by the Prime Minister’s official announcement, which explicitly introduced Ahmed Ghoneim as the “first CEO of the Grand Egyptian Museum Authority.”

A judicial ruling

The most significant legal challenge facing Zaki is a copyright dispute. In July, the Cairo Economic Court ruled that Zaki had committed “literary theft” by lifting entire sections of author Sahar Abdel Hamid’s 2022 book, “Lady of the Palace: The Assassination of Qout Al-Qulub Al-Demerdashiyya.”

Abdel Hamid told Al Manassa she discovered the infringement while attending a seminar for Zaki’s 2024 book, “Coco Chanel and Qout Al-Qulub”. Upon comparison, she found verbatim pages, chapter titles, and archival material she had gathered through field research. 

Sahar Abdel Hamid didn't just decline the invitation to the seminar; she went on the offensive. On February 3, 2024, she filed a formal complaint with Ahmed Bahi El-Din, then-chairman of the General Egyptian Book Organization, hand-delivering a copy to the then-Minister of Culture, Nevine El-Kilany.

When her grievances were met with silence, Abdel Hamid turned to the courts. By July, the Cairo Economic Court handed down a stinging verdict: Jihan Zaki had indeed overstepped the boundaries of “fair use.” The court ordered her to pay financial damages and mandated the immediate withdrawal, ban, and halt of distribution for the book.

Zaki’s defense team, led by attorney Alaa Abed, is now spinning a different legal narrative in their appeal. They argue the court fundamentally misapplied the law, asserting that Egypt’s Intellectual Property Law provides specific safe harbors. Under Article 171, they claim Zaki’s work qualifies as an “analytical study” or a series of “excerpts for the purpose of criticism, discussion, or information,” rather than an act of infringement.

However, the legal clock is still ticking against the minister. Under Article 251 of the Civil and Commercial Procedures Law, an appeal to the Court of Cassation does not automatically freeze a verdict. The ruling remains enforceable unless the court grants a rare, specific stay of execution.

Article 171 of the 2002 Intellectual Property Law is clear: while an author's “moral rights” are protected, they cannot prevent others from certain uses of their published work—specifically for criticism or news reporting. Whether Zaki’s book stays within those lines is now the central question. Al Manassa reached out to Abed’s office for comment on the appeal and the media firestorm, but the firm remained silent by the time of publication.

The expert’s take

Dr. Mohammed Hegazy, a consultant on digital transformation and intellectual property and the former head of the Ministry of Communications’ legislative committee, isn’t ready to call it a closed case without a line-by-line autopsy of the book and its citations. However, he notes that two consecutive rulings—a primary verdict and an appeal—are a “strong indicator” that the lines were crossed, especially since the appellate court found Zaki’s defense unconvincing.

Hegazy explained to Al Manassa that simply dropping the original author’s name twice in the text doesn’t offer much legal cover. In the eyes of the law, it’s not just about acknowledging the source; it’s about the surgical nature of the use.

In academic and methodical contexts, citations are meant to be targeted and restrained. They aren't supposed to swallow large swaths of the original work. The law doesn't rely on a specific word count or a mathematical percentage to prove infringement; instead, it looks for the “substantial part”—whether the borrowed material represents the heart and soul of the original work, he said.

“Finally, there is a difference between utilizing a piece of information or reframing an idea with a citation, and literal transcription,” Hegazy says. While the former can be acceptable if the author’s original voice remains distinct and the attribution is clear, the latter—literal copying—raises the red flag of infringement, depending on just how vital that stolen section is to the story.

A minister in limbo

As the accusations and criticisms mount, Jihan Zaki is pressing ahead, filling her calendar with official tours and ministerial decrees. Meanwhile, the government is playing a waiting game, tethered to the looming verdict from the Court of Cassation.

At a press conference last week, State Information Minister Diaa Rashwan emphasized that the intellectual property case has yet to reach a “final and binding” conclusion. “Should the Court of Cassation issue a definitive ruling,” Rashwan noted, “the Cabinet will convene to take the appropriate legal action—whether that means the Minister remains in her post or the necessary measures are taken if the charges are upheld.”

Now, as Zaki embarks on this new chapter of her career, the pressure is both political and administrative. She is being called upon to provide a coherent official narrative and a clear legal roadmap for each of the clouds hanging over her head. At the same time, she carries the heavy burden of steering Egypt’s cultural ship with competence—all while trying to dispel the persistent shadows that have trailed her into office.