“He was the prophet of liberalism in a country that failed to respect its prophets.” That is how Thoth Wahba eulogized Ali Salem in the Egyptian daily Al-Dustour. The Egyptian satirist and columnist, who passed away at the age of 79, chose to leave this world on the eve of Yom Kippur, Sept. 22, a sacred day of fasting for Jews and the day on which Israel’s most terrible war with Egypt erupted. It is almost as if he were reminding us that on this date, God settled accounts with both Israel and Egypt. The first time was with the war they fought in 1973, and the second time was when God took his prophet of peace from their midst.

Every Egyptian knew of Salem. He was a theatrical character, charmingly clumsy, who lectured his audience with a booming voice and histrionic gestures, at least in those rare moments when he managed to put down his cigarette. Hundreds of Israelis knew him as well because of his visits to their country. The first one was in 1994, when he drove to Israel in his dilapidated old car. When he returned home, he used his unique voice to describe his experiences in "My Drive to Israel," based on notes from his travels across the length and breadth of the country and his encounters with its people. Over the next two decades, Salem would not stop reminding everyone that mostly good would come of Egypt’s relationship with Israel. Knowing that people weren’t yet ready for this message, he found a way to relate it wisely and with a special charm and charisma.

“The State of Israel is not our enemy,” Salem said in an interview with ONTV three days before he died. “I’m sure that this statement contradicts everything you believe,” he told his interviewer, “but just think about it for a minute. Let’s say that they are opposed to peace and even that they are evil. Still, they’re not stupid. Israel wouldn’t want to live right next to a fanatical neighbor, torn apart inside, and ruled by gangs of bullies and the Islamic State. A strong Egypt is in Israel’s interest.”

To the many people who knew Salem — in Egypt and in Israel — he really was a prophet, the apostle of a warm peace, which remains stubbornly hesitant. What he represented was the antithesis of the doctrine put forward by former President Hosni Mubarak that dominated Egyptian-Israeli relations in the post-Anwar Sadat era. The Mubarak doctrine dictated a policy that worked to empty the relationship between Israel and Egypt of any expressions of culture, of contacts between their peoples and, in fact, of any real spirit, leaving only the necessities for survival: a stable border, closer relations with the West and a say in Palestinian issues. Anything that failed to serve these particular objectives was stymied by violent public outcries with support from the top. Joint academic programs, scientific cooperation, journalistic contacts, tourism, the exchange of athletes and cultural collaboration were all forbidden by the government in Cairo. It fought against them when they did exist, so much so that oftentimes no trace was left once they were eliminated. All of this was intended to prevent Israeli culture from penetrating the heart of the Arab world and to sustain the image of Israel as the main source of problems in the region.