DOI:https://doi.org/10.65281/738159
TERGHINI MOURAD 1, BOUSSAADA BILAL 2
1 Abbes Laghrour University, Khenchela, Algeria. Email : mourad.terghini1@gmail.com
https://orchid.org/0009-0003-1428-8688
2 Abbes Laghrour University, Khenchela, Algeria. Email :bilalboussaada219@gmail.com
Received : 23/01/2026 ; Accepted : 28/05/2026
Abstract
This study examines the image of the Algerian woman as shaped within the Arab theatrical imaginary, taking Abd al-Rahman al-Sharqawi’s play Jamīla’s Tragedy (Ma’sāt Jamīla, 1962) as an applied model. The problematic traces how the figure of the “Algerian militant” transitions from her real historical context to the space of a “revolutionary imaginary” that reproduces the social symbols of femininity and resistance. Drawing on the tools of theatrical criticism and the sociology of literature, the study seeks to deconstruct the mechanisms of building the dramatic character (Djamila Bouhired) as a symbolic representation that transcends the duality of women’s traditional roles, occupying a central place in the Arab collective consciousness. The paper further analyzes how the text contributed to shaping a “revolutionary imaginary” linking the resistant female body with national identity, focusing on the semiotics of dramatic spaces (the prison, the courtroom) as sociological frameworks that consecrate the image of the iconic heroine. The findings reveal that al-Sharqawi did not merely present a heroic biography, but reconstructed it within a universal symbolic order, turning the character of Djamila into an embodiment of the struggle of light against darkness, and transforming the prison from a space of oppression into an incubator of revolutionary consciousness.
Keywords: Revolutionary Imaginary; Sociology of Theatre; Algerian Woman; Jamīla’s Tragedy; Symbolic Representations.
Résumé: Cette étude vise à aborder l’image de la femme algérienne telle qu’elle s’est façonnée dans l’imaginaire théâtral arabe, en prenant pour modèle appliqué la pièce La Tragédie de Jamila (Ma’sāt Jamīla, 1962) d’Abd al-Rahman al-Sharqawi. La problématique s’articule autour de la transition de la figure de la « militante algérienne » de son contexte historique réel vers l’espace d’un « imaginaire révolutionnaire » qui reproduit les symboles sociaux de la féminité et de la résistance. En s’appuyant sur les outils de la critique théâtrale et de la sociologie de la littérature, l’étude cherche à déconstruire les mécanismes de construction du personnage dramatique (Djamila Bouhired) en tant que représentation symbolique dépassant la dualité des rôles traditionnels des femmes, occupant ainsi une place centrale dans la conscience collective arabe. L’article analyse en outre comment le texte a contribué à façonner un « imaginaire révolutionnaire » liant le corps féminin résistant à l’identité nationale, en mettant l’accent sur la sémiotique des espaces dramatiques (la prison, le tribunal) en tant que cadres sociologiques qui consacrent l’image de l’héroïne emblématique. Les résultats révèlent qu’al-Sharqawi ne s’est pas contenté de présenter une biographie héroïque, mais l’a reconstruite au sein d’un ordre symbolique universel, faisant du personnage de Djamila l’incarnation de la lutte de la lumière contre les ténèbres, et transformant la prison d’un espace d’oppression en un incubateur de conscience révolutionnaire.
Mots-clés : Imaginaire révolutionnaire ; Sociologie du théâtre ; Femme algérienne ; La Tragédie de Jamila ; Représentations symboliques.
Introduction
Since its inception in the heart of collective rituals, theatre has constituted a distinct symbolic space. It is not confined to mimicking social reality or providing entertainment; rather, it transcends these functions to become a genuine “laboratory” for formulating and reshaping collective consciousness. In this intermediary space between truth and imagination, rigid boundaries between what is and what ought to be dissolve, weaving a new image of the world and the self from the threads of history, dream, and ideology. This foundational role of theatre is nowhere more evident than during periods of profound social transformation and national liberation movements. In such contexts, dramatic discourse assumes a dual function: documenting the struggle of the present and envisioning the features of the desired future. It is precisely within this context that the Egyptian writer Abd al-Rahman al-Sharqawi’s play Jamīla’s Tragedy, or an Algerian Tragedy (1962) emerges as a unique literary document. It not only chronicles a critical phase in the Algerian Revolution but also consciously contributes to the production of a contemporary Arab “revolutionary imaginary,” capitalizing on transforming symbols of Algerian resistance into unifying icons within the collective conscience.
This study is built upon a central premise: the presence of the Algerian woman in Jamīla’s Tragedy cannot be reduced to a faithful transcription or direct cloning of her historical role in the revolution. Rather, it is a symbolic reproduction belonging to a broader representational system, which we term here the “revolutionary imaginary.” This representational system does not merely reflect reality; it actively shapes and directs it, employing an arsenal of symbols and metaphors that charge historical events and figures with mythological dimensions transcending their specific temporal and spatial contexts. How, then, did the image of the “Algerian militant” transition from her real historical context to the space of this theatrical imaginary? What dramatic and symbolic mechanisms did al-Sharqawi employ to transform a rebellious female character into an icon that transcends her traditional role as a dependent (a daughter or a beloved) to occupy the forefront as the embodiment of the nation and its identity? Furthermore, what role did dramatic spaces (the prison, the courtroom) play in cementing this iconic image?
To answer these questions, the study seeks to dismantle the mechanisms of constructing the dramatic character (Jamīla) as a symbolic representation that transcends the duality of women’s traditional roles, revealing how the “revolutionary imaginary” operates to link the resistant female body with national identity. To achieve this, we adopt a multi-dimensional critical approach that relies on the tools of theatrical criticism and dramatic discourse analysis, while simultaneously drawing on a theoretical framework combining the sociology of literature and the semiotics of theatrical space. Within this framework, we engage with central concepts found in the works of Gilbert Durand and Gaston Bachelard regarding the “imaginary” and “material imagination.” From Durand, we borrow his concept of the “diurnal regime” of images, which revolves around the values of ascent, separation, and light. We argue that the character of Jamīla, as constructed in the play, belongs to this heroic system in her confrontation against the forces of darkness and death represented by colonialism. From Bachelard, we draw inspiration for his method of analyzing the intimate relationship between poetic images and material elements, exploring how a place can be transformed through the imagination from a neutral physical space into a symbolic incubator for experiences of consciousness and emotion. In this sense, the prison, for example, will not be read merely as a set piece, but as a “lived space” where meanings are produced and the heroine’s consciousness is shaped.
The image of women in Arabic and Algerian literature has received considerable critical attention, with numerous studies examining its manifestations in the novel and short story. For instance, previous analyses of Djamila Bouhired’s representation—such as those situated within the parameters of Algerian prose—have predominantly focused on localized narratives of trauma or the gendered dynamics of the anti-colonial struggle. While foundational, these studies have largely overlooked the distinct mechanisms of theatrical representation. The current treatment is unique, therefore, in its focus on Arabic theatre written about the Algerian Revolution, specifically examining how this medium bypasses traditional novelistic representations of women to create an imagined revolutionary icon where femininity merges with the concepts of the nation and sacrifice. Consequently, Jamīla’s Tragedy becomes an exemplary case study, not only for its artistic value but, more importantly, for its capacity to fill a critical gap by revealing the profound dynamics governing the relationship between dramatic creation and political struggle, and between aesthetic discourse and ideological mobilization.
Following this introduction, the study is divided into three main sections. The first section frames the historical and intellectual context by tracing the features of the Algerian woman’s revolutionary role, defining the concept of the “revolutionary imaginary” as a sociological framework, and examining al-Sharqawi’s intellectual position regarding the historical moment in which he wrote the play. The second section moves directly into the dramatic text to analyze the character of “Jamīla” from the perspective of her identity transformations, the symbolism of her resistant body, and her dramatic discourse. The third and final section is dedicated to the sociology of dramatic space, addressing the significance of the prison, the courtroom, and complementary spaces, revealing how these places shift from mere backgrounds to active elements in shaping the heroine’s consciousness and cementing her iconic image. In the conclusion, we present the primary findings, offer a critical evaluation of the limitations of these symbolic representations, and open avenues for future research.
- From Reality to the Imaginary: The Historical and Revolutionary Context of the Algerian Woman
If theatre, as previously established, is a symbolic space where collective consciousness is reproduced, al-Sharqawi’s portrayal of the rebellious Algerian woman did not emerge in a vacuum. It was deeply rooted in a genuine historical reality, fertilized by immense sacrifices and bitter struggle. Before delving into the mechanics of “imaginization” at work in the play, methodology dictates that we first establish the “reality” that served as the raw material for this imagination. What, then, were the most prominent features of this reality that cemented the presence of the Algerian woman at the heart of the revolution, transforming her from a marginalized being into an inspiring icon? We will attempt to trace this in the following subsections before moving on to study the intellectual context that framed the writing of the play.
1.1. The Woman at the Heart of the Algerian Revolution: Features of Reality
Perhaps the first thing that comes to mind when mentioning the woman and the Algerian Revolution is the radical transformation that overturned traditional social balances, pulling women out of closed, stereotypical roles. In a traditional tribal society, women remained for a long period confined to specific spaces, their identities largely reduced to being a mother, wife, or sister—subordinate to man and subject to his authority. Even in periods when women exhibited a degree of agency, such as during Ottoman rule when women of the aristocratic class engaged in hidden political roles, this agency remained individual and exceptional, failing to touch the core of existing social structures (Qouidri, 2015, p. 145). This dynamic is affirmed by writer Nawal El Saadawi, who noted that women in such societies were treated as “an appendage to man,” denied the status of an “independent human being” (El Saadawi, 1993, p. 20; see also Amin, 2012, p. 28).
However, the National Liberation War (1954–1962) represented a genuine epistemological and social rupture with this legacy. The revolution, in its totality and ferocity, could no longer exclude half of society from a battle for destiny. Algerian women, in both urban and rural areas, enlisted in the ranks of the struggle, thereby challenging not only the colonial power but also oppressive social traditions. Djamila Bouhired, the icon of this struggle, described this pivotal moment: “Women discovered in the revolution that they were capable of doing everything” (Bouhired, as cited in Mosteghanemi, 1993, p. 78). As researcher Mafkouda Saleh observes, while it was previously argued that “a woman’s existence is meaningless without a man,” the revolution disrupted this binary, prompting women to step out of a state of “waiting for the knight of their dreams” to participate unprecedentedly in shaping their own destiny and that of their homeland (Mafkouda, 2009, pp. 48, 59).
The woman’s role was not limited to sheltering militants or nursing the wounded; it extended to carrying arms, planting bombs, transporting messages and weapons, and even leading commando operations. This shift in role and status was accompanied by a shift in consciousness, as women came to realize that their personal liberation was an inseparable part of their nation’s liberation. This transition from the role of the “dependent” to the “agent” is what prepared the ground for the woman’s transformation into an icon within the revolutionary imaginary.
1.2. Djamila Bouhired: The Icon of the Revolution in the Arab Imaginary
Within this expansive revolutionary context, the figure of Djamila Bouhired emerged not merely as a national militant but as an icon that crossed Algerian borders to settle in the collective Arab conscience. Propelled by the horrific images of her torture that shocked global public opinion and her steadfastness before the French military court, Djamila transformed from a mere individual into a condensed “symbol” of courage, sacrifice, and revolutionary purity. As Yahya Hamdi notes in his study on the image of women in literature, the “Algerian militant woman” has been transformed in contemporary Arabic creativity into “an immortal icon and symbol of the revolution” (Hamdi, 2012, p. 112).
This transition—from the real to the symbolic, from the historical to the iconic—is precisely the core of the operation undertaken by the “revolutionary imaginary,” which we will analyze in the following subsection. As a theatrical character, Djamila no longer represents merely herself; she comes to represent all militant women, and indeed Algeria itself, in its existential struggle against the colonizer.
1.3. The “Revolutionary Imaginary” as a Sociological Framework: Reproducing Symbols
We now arrive at the pivotal concept forming the theoretical arsenal of this study: the “revolutionary imaginary.” We do not use the term “imaginary” here in its common sense, alluding to illusion or unreality. Rather, we employ it in its precise sociological and anthropological sense as developed in the works of Gilbert Durand and others. In this sense, the imaginary is the symbolic “museum” or “reservoir” that pumps out the totality of images, metaphors, and narratives produced by a given society to express its hopes and fears, establish its identity, and grant it meaning (Durand, 1991, p. 121; see also Durand, 1984, pp. 34–37). It is not a passive mirror of reality but an active force that shapes reality itself. As Durand explains, symbolic systems, or what he calls “constellations of images,” gather around dynamic nuclei that grant them cohesion, enabling them to “produce” meaning rather than merely reflect it (Durand, 1991, p. 54).
Building on this, we can define the “revolutionary imaginary” as the symbolic system produced during periods of liberation struggle, which works to reshape the world in a sharp binary fashion: “us” versus “them,” good versus evil, light versus darkness. In this system, historical events are transformed into epics, militants become mythological heroes, and sacrifice becomes an act of salvation. This is exactly what Durand identifies in the “diurnal regime” of images—a fundamentally heroic and offensive system based on radical “antithesis,” striving through images to separate conflicting values and elevate the self toward light and sovereignty (Durand, 1984, pp. 158–159). Just as “the wing and the bird stand in opposition to the animality of time, unleashing dreams of speed” (Durand, 1984, p. 158), the image of the revolutionary militant in the imaginary opposes the animality of colonialism and the weight of oppression, launching like an arrow toward the dawn of freedom.
The function of the “revolutionary imaginary,” therefore, is not purely aesthetic; it is fundamentally mobilizing and foundational. Through this “arsenal” of symbols, it seeks to create a new “collective consciousness” capable of internalizing the justifications and goals of the revolution, transforming despair into hope and weakness into strength. Within this framework, we can understand how and why the image of the militant woman—specifically Djamila Bouhired—occupied a central position in this imaginary. The resistant, tortured female body, within this symbolic system, does not signify a specific individual as much as it signifies the “nation” that is simultaneously violated and resisting. It becomes, in Bachelard’s terms, a condensed “material image” that encapsulates in its visual and sensory presence all the meanings of honor, violation, and defiance (Bachelard, 2007, pp. 9–13).
1.4. The Author and the Historical Moment: Al-Sharqawi and Theatricalizing the Icon
In this highly charged political and intellectual climate, Abd al-Rahman al-Sharqawi’s work Jamīla’s Tragedy emerged as a decisive moment in the theatricalization of this revolutionary imaginary. Al-Sharqawi, a revolutionary existentialist writer, was not merely a spectator to the Algerian tragedy; he was organically engaged in the Arab national cause, believing that literature, and theatre in particular, was not an intellectual luxury but a political and moral “act,” a means of exposing injustice and sharpening resolve. However, this engagement raises a critical question regarding the author’s positionality: how did al-Sharqawi’s status as an Egyptian writer—an outsider to the specific Algerian context, yet an insider to the broader Arab nationalist consciousness—shape his theatricalization of this icon? It can be argued that al-Sharqawi did not merely document the Algerian struggle, but strategically projected a pan-Arab nationalist vision onto it. By extracting Bouhired’s story from its localized historical contingencies, he universalized her to fit the “Arab collective conscience.” In doing so, he inevitably filtered the nuances of the Algerian experience through an overarching ideological lens, subtly subsuming the specifically Algerian feminist and anti-colonial discourse into a grander, unified Arab narrative of liberation.
Al-Sharqawi wrote the play in 1962, at the exact moment Algeria was gasping its final breaths under the yoke of occupation and preparing to declare its independence. The timing of this writing is not arbitrary; al-Sharqawi is not writing a “history” that has passed, but a burning “present,” contributing through his text to the battle for liberation. He transforms the stage into a platform for testimony and mobilization, and his historical characters (Jamīla, Bouhired, Ammar) into dramatic roles that perform, on a symbolic level, the function of “exempla” to be emulated. As researcher Habiba Ouid noted regarding the novelistic imaginary—a principle equally applicable to theatre—it “symbolizes the relationship between the woman and the colonized homeland, where the woman becomes the land and the nation itself” (Ouid, 2021, p. 224).
Thus, as al-Sharqawi draws inspiration from the biography of Djamila Bouhired, his goal is not to write an objective biography but to produce a dramatic “icon” that stands in for the entire Algerian people. With the consciousness of an artist, he uses theatrical techniques (dialogue, space, conflict) to embody this “revolutionary imaginary” and convey it to the Arab recipient with maximum impact and efficacy. Consequently, the text of Jamīla’s Tragedy becomes an invaluable literary document, not only for understanding the Algerian Revolution but for comprehending how committed literature operates in formulating revolutionary consciousness and shaping its imagination.
- Embodying the Icon: Analyzing the Character of “Jamīla” Between Revolution and Femininity
If the previous section illuminated the real and symbolic context that produced the character of “Jamīla,” this section turns toward the dramatic text itself. Through the tools of theatrical analysis, it examines the artistic and symbolic mechanisms that rendered this character a fully realized revolutionary icon. We will not approach “Jamīla” here as a simulation of a historical figure, but as a dramatic construct governed by the logic of the “revolutionary imaginary,” which, as we have seen, seeks to reshape reality through sharp dualities of light and darkness, resistance and oppression. We will trace this construction through three levels: the transformation of her identity from dependency to national centrality, the functioning of her resistant body’s symbolism, and finally, the nature of her dramatic discourse that declares this transformation.
2.1. From “Woman-Dependent” to “Woman-Nation”: Transformations of Dramatic Identity
Al-Sharqawi introduces the character of “Jamīla” upon her first appearance on stage, through stage directions, as a “student” sitting at her desk in her uncle Mustapha Bouhired’s house, submerged in deep sorrow (al-Sharqawi, 1962, p. 88). This initial delineation ostensibly reflects the image of the traditional girl: the daughter, the niece, the student whose concerns are presumed to be confined to her studies. This is confirmed by her uncle Bouhired himself when he tells her early on, “Let nothing occupy you but your studies, my daughter” (al-Sharqawi, 1962, p. 96). This discourse reduces her identity and confines her to the role of the “dependent,” who has no business in the greater world of men and revolution.
However, this ascribed identity quickly fractures under the weight of tragic events. The death of Amina, the friend and militant, is not merely a plot point; it is a moment of radical “transformation” in Jamīla’s consciousness. In her dialogue with Jasser following Amina’s martyrdom, Jamīla no longer speaks as the grieving student but adopts a strict revolutionary discourse, transcending the boundaries of her individual self. She recounts, in a voice mixing sorrow with anger, how Amina, “in her final moments… asked me to say that the wicked Haroun is the traitor” (al-Sharqawi, 1962, pp. 104–105). In this transition, Jamīla is no longer merely a witness to events; she becomes the carrier of the martyr’s message and an extension of her will. This is the exact embodiment of the “woman-nation” idea produced by the revolutionary imaginary: a being in which the individual is annihilated into the collective, and the private becomes a symbol of the public.
This transformation reaches its climax after the martyrdom of her uncle, Mustapha Bouhired, the affectionate paternal symbol. At this moment, Jamīla severs her final tie to the role of the “dependent” and becomes, of her own free will, a mujahida (a female fighter). Her rejection of weeping and wailing, and the conversion of her grief into active anger, is expressed in her resounding cry: “Why should the wise man smash his head against the wall?! Do you think the commander has forgotten his past?” (al-Sharqawi, 1962, p. 165). This discourse, directed at the broken commander Jasser, reflects not only individual strength but also her assumption of the role of the “revolutionary conscience” that reminds the group of its mission in moments of weakness.
Thus, Jamīla transitions, in an ascending dramatic arc, from “niece” to “comrade in struggle,” and from “student” to “teacher,” ultimately reaching the rank of “icon” that transcends the boundaries of time and space. This transformation does not occur by erasing femininity, but by redefining it through revolutionary action, moving it from the margin of the event to its center. This perfectly aligns with the logic of the “diurnal regime” in Gilbert Durand’s framework, where the being moves “upward” from a state of negativity and darkness toward a state of agency and light (Durand, 1984, p. 158).
2.2. The Resistant Female Body: Symbolism of Sacrifice and Redemption in the Revolutionary Imaginary
In Jamīla’s Tragedy, the female body is not presented as an object of desire or seduction; it is dramatically reshaped to become a fortress of resistance and a site of struggle between the forces of life and death. It is a body that shelters militants, hides secrets, faces instruments of torture, and ultimately transforms into a pure sacrifice on the altar of the nation. This conversion of the body from the private to the public, from the personal to the national, is one of the most prominent manifestations of the “revolutionary imaginary.”
Perhaps the most potent manifestation of this symbolism is the scene where Jamīla hides the commander Jasser from the French soldiers searching the house. When asked about Jasser, she does not hesitate to lie, confronting brute force with her standing body, defying them. She uses her body as a human shield to protect the revolution. Facing the officer Pierre, who threatens her and violates the sanctity of the home, she does not hesitate for a moment to declare her readiness to die, invoking Amina’s deed: “I wish my fingernails would turn into daggers” (al-Sharqawi, 1962, p. 112). This image profoundly reflects what Gaston Bachelard calls the active “material imagination,” where the body is no longer merely a form but becomes raw revolutionary material, capable of being transformed in the imagination into a weapon (Bachelard, 2007, pp. 7–13). The body here is not a defeated one; it is an offensive body, “erect” in the face of death, which perfectly coincides with the heroic images of the diurnal regime detailed by Durand (Durand, 1984, pp. 137–138).
This meaning becomes even clearer when we compare this image with that of the female body in other texts addressing the Algerian woman, such as the novel The President (Al-Ra’is). In that novel, we find the character of Maryam, who spends her youth waiting for her beloved, her exhausted body from work and neglect turning into an instrument for expressing passive pain and betrayal, to the point where she loses her sight (Qouidri, 2015, pp. 188–191). Maryam’s body is a victimized, reactive body reflecting the tragedy of the individual. Jamīla’s body, however, is an agent, resistant body that controls its destiny and harnesses itself for the collective. This fundamental difference is what separates the traditional literary representation of women from the iconic representation produced by the revolutionary imaginary.
2.3. The Voice of the Heroine: An Analysis of Jamīla’s Dramatic Discourse Between the Self and the Nation
If the body is the arena of confrontation, then the voice is her other weapon. Al-Sharqawi constructs Jamīla’s dramatic discourse with meticulous care to reflect her transformation from a silent or whispering being into a powerful, speaking subject that addresses not only the receiver but history itself. We can trace three essential stages in the evolution of this discourse.
In the first stage, the period prior to full engagement, her voice seems to oscillate between the pain of loss and the desire for action. In her talk about schoolbooks, the voice of the rebellious child blends with that of the emerging revolutionary when she declares her rejection of fabricated history: “In those black pages, the history of mankind is fabricated… about my valiant Arab homeland! I will not read them, I will tear them up” (al-Sharqawi, 1962, pp. 98–99). This voice is not merely a rejection of a lesson; it is a declaration of an epistemological break with the colonizer’s discourse and a preemption of the act of resistance.
In the second stage, the period of direct contact with oppression, her voice transforms into a political weapon. In her dialogue with Officer Pierre, she is content with neither passive rejection nor defense; she shifts into a prosecutor directing the indictment: “Do you think the time has come when I must mobilize the likes of you, who taught me the vocabulary of struggle with my very first words?” (al-Sharqawi, 1962, p. 99). Here, Jamīla moves from the position of the interrogated to the questioner, using the very logic employed by the colonizer to turn it against him. Her voice no longer expresses individual panic but the “collective conscience” of the revolution, making it an distinctly “epic voice.”
The third and final stage is that of the “speaking icon.” Following her uncle’s martyrdom and at the peak of the tragedy, her voice carries a prophetic tone that completely transcends the self. She is the one who reminds the commander Jasser of his duty, boosts everyone’s morale, and speaks with the voice of the nation that does not die: “Those under the ground have risen! Clear this cloud from my country’s skies, clear it!” (al-Sharqawi, 1962, p. 165). In this voice, the individual Jamīla dissolves into the symbolic Jamīla, and her words become a revolutionary act in themselves. This unification between the individual voice and the collective discourse is the essence of the “revolutionary imaginary’s” operation, which seeks to produce a speaking “collective self,” with woman serving as its ideal mouthpiece. As expressed by al-Sharqawi, she is no longer Jamīla of Algeria; she has become “Algeria the Beautiful.”
Thus, the transformation of identity, the symbolism of the body, and the efficacy of the voice converge to construct the dramatic character of “Jamīla,” not as a woman belonging to her time, but as an immortal icon produced by the revolutionary imaginary, needed by every revolution to encapsulate the meaning of its struggle and the purpose of its existence.
- The Sociology of Space: The Significance of Dramatic Spaces in Shaping the Heroine’s Consciousness
If the previous section examined the construction of the “Jamīla” character from the inside, analyzing her identity transformations, bodily symbolism, and vocal power, this section turns toward the “space” in which this character moves and interacts. In drama, space is not merely a neutral container for events; as contemporary theatrical and sociological studies affirm, it is an active element charged with signification, contributing to the shaping of characters, the directing of conflict, and the production of meaning. The play Jamīla’s Tragedy presents an ideal model for this operation. Its primary spaces—the prison and the courtroom—are transformed, through the “revolutionary imaginary,” from places of oppression and death into laboratories for the birth of consciousness and the cementing of the iconic heroine’s image. As Gaston Bachelard posited in his meditations on the “poetics of space,” the spaces we inhabit are not neutral geometries; they are saturated with dreams, memories, and values, carrying within them a “protective” or “repellent” force (Bachelard, 1984, pp. 33–35). From this premise, we will analyze how the play’s spaces produce their specific meanings, contributing to the general symbolic system of the revolution.
3.1. The Prison: From a Space of Oppression to a Space for the Birth of Revolutionary Consciousness
The space of the prison in Jamīla’s Tragedy looms as a ghost haunting the events, even when it is invisible on stage. The “Barbarossa” fortress, overlooking the Casbah district, is more than just a prison; as the stage directions describe it, it is “looming like a terrifying ghost” (al-Sharqawi, 1962, p. 88). It is the architectural embodiment of absolute colonial power, aimed at crushing the will and erasing memory. However, the drama does not settle for this one-dimensional depiction. Through revolutionary practice and the power of imagination, this space turns on itself, transforming from an instrument of isolation and humiliation into a “womb” where consciousness is born and the heroine’s mettle is refined.
This reversal in signification finds its explanation in what Michel Foucault termed “heterotopia”—the “other” or “alternative” spaces that exist outside all other places, yet are capable of being localized in reality. They function as “counter-sites” that reflect, contradict, and invert the cultural sites within which they are found (Foucault, 1988, pp. 22–24). In this sense, the prison is the ideal heterotopia: it is an isolated, closed space, yet at the same time, it is an intensive space where the laws of the outside world are disrupted, and prevailing values become subject to overthrow. This is precisely what happens in the play’s revolutionary imaginary; inside the prison walls, the prisoner is not defeated; rather, their consciousness is liberated. Instead of marking the end of political action, the prison becomes its true beginning.
The character of Jamīla herself presents this transformation in its most glorious form. Fully aware of the horrors of the prison and the torture practiced by the occupier on her comrades, she does not hesitate to embrace this fate. When she recounts how Amina “swallowed the small vial of poison and then said: do not let anyone be taken to Barbarossa prison” (al-Sharqawi, 1962, pp. 89–90), she is not transmitting a fear of prison but a strategy for resistance within it. In this context, the prison is not merely a punishment; it is a “test” of revolutionary authenticity, a space where metals are tried. Isolation becomes an opportunity for self-reflection and deepening faith in the cause. In this manner, the tortured body in prison, as previously noted, becomes a body victorious over its torturers—not through physical strength, but through moral fortitude and its symbolic ability to flip the balance of power. It is a transformation of oppression into defiance, mirroring the “ascent” toward light consecrated by the heroic images of Durand’s diurnal regime (Durand, 1984, pp. 158–159).
Consequently, in the dynamism of revolutionary drama, the prison transitions from being an “anti-life” place to a “laboratory” for producing a new life—the life of revolutionary consciousness—and paradoxically becomes a witness to the birth of the iconic heroine.
3.2. The Courtroom: A Theater of Discursive Struggle and a Reflection of Societal Structure
If the prison represents the closed space of individual consciousness, the courtroom represents the public space of collective struggle. In the trial scene—among the most tense and eloquent in the history of revolutionary literature—the courtroom transforms into a theater within a theater. Here, not only do characters confront one another, but values, principles, and history clash. In this space, the “revolutionary imaginary” of the Algerian people faces the “colonial imaginary” of the French state head-on, with Jamīla as its vocal champion.
Al-Sharqawi’s brilliance manifests in his dramatic construction of this scene, where he completely overturns expected roles. Jamīla, who is supposed to be in the position of the weak “accused” begging for mercy, transforms through the power of her discourse into a “judge” who puts her torturers on trial and exposes their crimes before history. She uses the court platform not to defend herself but to direct an indictment at the entire colonial system. This role reversal is not merely a rhetorical trick; it is a dramatic embodiment of the moral and political overthrow the revolution seeks to achieve. The colonial court, which presents itself as a bastion of justice, is stripped bare on stage to reveal itself as an instrument of oppression and torment.
In this space, Jamīla shifts from an individual speaking on her own behalf to a “voice” speaking on behalf of the nation’s conscience. This renders the courtroom, in Bakhtinian terms, a “dialogic” space of multiple voices, yet the dominant and discursively victorious voice is that of the revolution, represented by the heroine (Bakhtin, 1987). The famous statement al-Sharqawi attributes to Jamīla in this context—”I do not fear death, because my life is the life of my homeland”—encapsulates this entire dialectic. Her individual existence dissolves to be replaced by the existence of the nation. Thus, the courtroom becomes not just a space for issuing a verdict, but a space for declaring the birth of an icon, and the heroine’s words serve as the final “judgment” against the criminals of history.
3.3. Complementary Symbolic Spaces: “The Home” and “The Street” as Incubators of the Revolution
Alongside these two central spaces stand two others, more intimate and collective, acting as symbolic incubators for revolutionary action: the home and the street.
“The home” in the play, specifically Mustapha Bouhired’s house, represents a space of dual signification. On one hand, it is a traditional space tied to family values, stability, and enclosed femininity. On the other hand, due to the occupation, it transforms into a space of resistance, even a revolutionary cell. In this house, leaflets are hidden, secret meetings are held, and the commander Jasser is concealed. It is a space that encapsulates the tension between family duty and national commitment. Its transformation from a “home” to a “hideout” is a profound symbolic conversion; the intimate space, assumed to be a refuge for private life, is repurposed to become a cog in the machinery of struggle. If the female body was transformed into a fortress, then the home, as a symbolic extension of this body, also transforms into a castle. This is exactly what Bachelard calls the “values of protection” granted by certain spaces, which become “supports” for the material imagination (Bachelard, 1984, pp. 35–38).
As for “the street,” it is the open space of the masses, the place where the legitimacy of the popular revolution manifests. Unlike the individual home or the official courtroom, the street represents the “collective incubator” of the revolution, where voices meet and slogans rise. The presence of this space—even if only acoustically through chants or through its presence in the characters’ dialogues—reminds the recipient that Jamīla’s heroism is not an isolated individual act but the culmination of an overwhelming popular will. The street is the space where the proposition of the “revolutionary imaginary” proves its efficacy, when individuals become a “people,” and when the masses scream Jamīla’s name not in sympathy with her, but in affirmation of their fusion with her. In this context, Yahya Hamdi links this phenomenon to the transformation of the militant woman’s image in Arabic creativity into an “objective equivalent of the homeland,” where the heroine no longer represents herself but represents the masses’ will for liberation (Hamdi, 2012, p. 112).
Thus, these four spaces integrate to build a “symbolic geography” of the revolution, in which the heroine moves from hiding to the open, and from the individual to the collective, in a dramatic arc that gradually transforms her into an immortal icon.
Conclusion
At the end of this analytical journey into the world of Jamīla’s Tragedy, it becomes clear that the play was not merely a dramatic historicization of an Algerian militant’s biography. At its core, it was a symbolic workshop for producing an Arab “revolutionary imaginary” that capitalized on converting the sacrifices of reality into immortal icons within the collective conscience. Through its three sections, this study has demonstrated how this imaginary operated, using the stage to reshape the relationship between art and history, between femininity and the nation, and between space and consciousness.
The central findings reached can be summarized in the following points:
First, the study established that the character of “Jamīla” in the play does not faithfully mimic her historical model; rather, it produces, as an “icon,” an alternative representational system. Al-Sharqawi’s Jamīla transitions, in an ascending dramatic arc, from the role of “woman-dependent” (daughter and student) to the rank of “woman-nation,” where the individual dissolves into the collective, and the private becomes the embodiment of the public. This transformation, which erases the traditional boundaries between the self and the group, is the essence of the “revolutionary imaginary’s” operation, which seeks to produce a speaking “collective self.”
Second, the study demonstrated how this imaginary reshaped the symbolism of the female body. Jamīla’s body is not presented as an aesthetic or libidinal object; it is dramatically reconstructed to become a “fortress” of resistance and a “weapon” in the face of brute force. It transcends the binary of the passive/active body to present a third model: the iconic body that turns into meaning itself. Herein lies a practical application of Gaston Bachelard’s theory of the “material imagination,” where bodily matter itself becomes a material that “imagines” and produces values.
Third, regarding the sociology of space, the study proved that the play’s locations are not mere set pieces but active dramatic elements in shaping the heroine’s consciousness and cementing her iconic image. The prison transforms from a repressive “heterotopia” into a space for the birth of consciousness and the testing of mettle, while the courtroom turns into a “theater within a theater” that flips the balance of power, allowing the accused to become a judge who convicts the torturer. This symbolic geography is completed by the spaces of the home and the street, serving as the intimate and collective incubators of the revolution.
A critical evaluation of these findings leads us to affirm that this iconic formation, despite its immense mobilizing power, carries a degree of symbolic transcendence that stripped the historical Jamīla of her human and private dimensions, placing her in the rank of a national “saint.” This transcendence—an inherent trait of the “revolutionary imaginary”—transfers the heroine from history to myth, cementing an image that might make it difficult to imagine the heroine outside the framework of revolution and sacrifice. Nevertheless, al-Sharqawi’s achievement in Jamīla’s Tragedy remains a testament to the capacity of theatrical art, in its highest manifestations, to be a revolutionary “act” in itself, and to reinvent reality to grant it a deeper, more enduring meaning.
We conclude by suggesting that this study open horizons for comparative approaches examining how the representations of iconic heroines in post-colonial literary imaginaries differ from the personal testimonies and autobiographies of the militants themselves. In those writings, we may find the “personal imaginary” renegotiating with the “collective imaginary,” restoring the militant woman’s full humanity away from the heavy mantle of the icon.
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