Omar Mostafa Metwally and Ahmed Fathy were having a casual chat on Omar’s podcast, Leek Lok, when they made a comment about legendary actor Shokry Sarhan. They said, and I quote, he was “a star, but not a qualified actor.” That’s it. Just an opinion. But in today’s outrage-driven world, those words sparked chaos.

Fans went ballistic. Industry figures chimed in. And then, in a dramatic twist, Shokry Sarhan’s family announced they’d file an official complaint with the Acting Professions Syndicate. Because how dare anyone critique a cinema “legend,” right?

Things escalated when Ashraf Zaky, head of the syndicate, swooped in for damage control. He publicly apologized to Sarhan’s family, saying the comments weren’t meant maliciously but promising to protect the legacies of Egypt’s cinematic greats.

But let’s cut to the chase: why is everyone so fragile about an opinion?

The Overreaction Spiral: Actors Aren’t Gods—They’re Human

Let’s drop this idea that actors, especially those of past generations, are untouchable. Yes, Shokry Sarhan is an icon, but that doesn’t mean his acting can’t be critiqued. Saying he wasn’t the most talented actor doesn’t erase his legacy or his contributions to Egyptian cinema. It’s just a perspective. And guess what? People are allowed to have perspectives.

It’s not like Omar and Ahmed Fathy stormed into a public square and screamed, “Cancel Shokry Sarhan forever!” They simply shared a subjective critique, the kind we all make when discussing art.
There’s a big difference between critique and defamation, but in a society where public figures are put on pedestals, even mild criticism feels like an act of rebellion.

And then there’s Ashraf Zaky’s apology, which only poured fuel on the fire. Instead of defending Omar and Ahmed’s right to express an opinion, he caved to public pressure. Sure, it’s a PR move to avoid backlash, but at what cost? Apologizing for a harmless comment sends a dangerous message: Critique an icon, and prepare to be silenced.

Shokry Sarhan: A Legend, But Not Above Critique

Let’s not get it twisted—Shokry Sarhan is an undisputed legend of Egyptian cinema. His performances in The Second Wife, The Thief and the Dogs, and Candle for Umm Hashim are classics that shaped the industry. No one’s questioning his place in history. But does that mean his acting style can’t be critiqued? Of course not.

Art isn’t sacred, and artists—no matter how beloved—aren’t immune to constructive criticism. What Omar and Ahmed did wasn’t an attack; it was an analysis. You can agree or disagree, but that’s the whole point of discussing art—it’s subjective.

The real issue here isn’t whether you agree with Omar and Ahmed. It’s that this level of outrage shows just how uncomfortable we are with disagreement.

Freedom of Speech is on Thin Ice

Here’s where it gets serious. If a simple critique on a podcast can cause this much of a meltdown, what does that say about freedom of speech?

It’s not that debate isn’t welcome—debate is great! Disagree with Omar and Ahmed all you want. Tell them why you think Shokry Sarhan is a master of his craft.

But turning this into a syndicate-level crisis? Filing complaints? That’s not debate. That’s censorship wrapped in public outrage.

Ashraf Zaky’s apology only makes it worse. Instead of defending the right to express opinions—even unpopular ones—he reinforced the idea that voicing dissent will get you in trouble.

It’s a short-term solution to a long-term problem: a culture where free expression is so fragile that even mild critique can spark chaos.

The Bigger Picture

This isn’t just about Shokry Sarhan. It’s about what happens when we treat criticism like blasphemy. If we can’t handle discussions about an actor’s talent, how will we ever address bigger issues in art and culture?

What about diversity, representation, or the quality of modern Egyptian cinema? Are we just going to shut down every conversation that makes us uncomfortable?

Art thrives on dialogue, disagreement, and fresh perspectives. If we stop having these conversations out of fear of backlash, we’re not protecting the legacy of icons—we’re suffocating creativity.

Let’s Normalize Disagreement

Here’s the reality: actors, no matter how legendary, aren’t gods. Critiquing their work doesn’t erase their legacy, and it’s not disrespectful—it’s necessary. Genuine opinions, whether you agree with them or not, are what keep art alive and evolving.

So, where do you stand? Is this outrage justified, or is it just another nail in the coffin for free expression in Egypt? Because at this rate, we’re not just losing our ability to critique art—we’re losing the ability to have real conversations.