The Economist

Most of you are aware of my uncanny obsession with the newspaper; some people like the arts, science and technology, or politics. But for me, I can get all of these, rolled into a weekly newspaper, with a rather British touch to it. You may be thinking, “why is he calling it a newspaper? Isn’t it a magazine?” No. You are wrong. The Economist is newspaper, all jazzed up, with a glossy cover and pages and everything. It’s what we educated-folk call class. The Economist is usually what gets me by day to day; I would relate it to drugs for people who want to learn about current events. So in the weeks prior to my departure for Cairo, I was anxiously wondering how I was going to “get high” without my weekly dosage of The Economist. But since I am a rather lucky fellow (as people around here like to say), there are other educated folk here who also like to read about current events.

I was first quite shocked seeing the latest issue of The Economist on newsstands across Cairo. There are several newsstands right around campus and a few on Zamalek, right near where I live, selling everything from GQ (yes!) and Cosmo, to Time and Newsweek, and even Better Home & Gardens and Popular Science (clearly I read all of these). The only problem here is getting the most current issue; last week I saw a GQ on sale from last November. Not that it really matters since most of the magazines are just ads and display fashion relatively unattainable by about 99% of the population. For the 1% that can wear Armani and Gucci, they probably aren’t picking up their GQ’s from the newsstands on the street. No, they either: A) Purchase their magazines from reliable booksellers, like the AUC Bookstore (the largest bookseller of English books in the Middle East) or air conditioned stores, or B) Send their assistants to do it for them. I was at the AUC Bookstore last week with a student who was glancing at the same book I was. Upon inquiry (basically asking him how important it was if I really bought the book), he told me that he gets paid to run errands for another student, which in turn, helps him afford to dress in Western fashions and eat in Western establishments (like McDonalds, Pizza Hut [Beeza Hut], and KFC).

So anyways… back to The Economist. My unhealthy obsession is particularly focused on the current events sections (although I love them all dearly). In the U.S., the world section is categorized like so: The United States, The Americas (Canada, Mexico, S. America), Asia, Middle East & Africa, Europe, and finally Britain. However, here in Cairo, the newspaper is printed as follows: Europe, Britain, Middle East & Africa, The United States, The Americas and Asia. I was appalled, for two reasons. One shallow and hegemonic and the other sad and upset; clearly this is the European edition, but on the cover, all the prices listed display Middle Eastern nations. So I was saddened to learn that they wouldn’t even put the Middle East & Africa section in first. (I was obviously upset that the U.S. section wasn’t first because I like America a lot. I understand that we can’t be first at everything, so I’m not too upset).

So how do I cope with such a disaster?

I read the U.S. Section first. Followed by (in the normal, American way of doing things) The Americas, Asia, Middle East & Africa, Europe and finally Britain. Not that I like hearing about Britain and Europe last, but in my opinion, being a Europhile and Anglophile, it breaks up the news a bit and helps me get through areas that I clearly have no real interest in. If I read it “as is,” I would get through my favorite four regions first, followed by two (The Americas & Asia) that I don’t particularly care for. Not that I don’t love hearing about what Hugo Chavez and Pervez Musharref are doing, because I am fascinated with it, but I have no vested interest in these regions. First, I am an American, so I love the U.S. section because I want to see which events in American life the rest of the world actually cares about. Second, I am studying Middle East Politics in the Middle East. Enough? Third, I love Europe. I love traveling to Europe, I love European history, I love European leaders, I love European food, I love the Euro (well, I love the hard currency, like the actual coins and bills, not so much the exchange rate anymore). And finally, I love Britain. My goal is to live in London someday (aka when I am loaded) and British politics astounds me. So in order to anticipate the European & British sections, I must be dragged down a bit by the other two world sections.

Sorry Asia. Sorry Americas. It’s not that I don’t like you, I just have no reason to really really really like you.

Oh and all the other sections, I have a love/hate relationship with you. Clearly the Briefs and Leaders sections are great to brief my week with before I dive into the newspaper. I normally read you both in the few minutes after I buy you. Most of the time letters and The Economist: Online are good; short and sweet. Briefing sections are also astonishing, although sometimes you just repeat information from Leaders or other world events section. Special reports: you are my favorite. You always pick enthralling topics, like Air Travel, Life in Iran, Cities Report, and an upcoming section on Migration, that I am actually interested in, since I tend to be interested in strange topics. As for the other sections: International (you are sweet most of the time), Business (like you a lot, but articles are kinda dry), Finance & Economics (I mostly understand what is up, but sometimes I get lost in the jargon), Science & Technology (I care about ya sometimes, but sometimes you are bland), Books & Arts (never read you unless there is a good book about Nicholas Sarkozy or Bill Clinton), and finally, the Obituary. I decided that you are special, Mr. Obituary, for the way you articulate about your subject is unlike any obituary I have ever read. Enjoyable, thrilling, fascinating, in-depth; words not usually associated with an obituary, which is why I like it. My only complaint is that, despite sometimes needing to mock someone, I nearly lost all respect for you when you reported on the death of Anna Nicole Smith (but luckily you revived yourself a few weeks later with the death of Arthur Schlesinger).

Anyways. One nice thing about getting The Economist, despite its 29 LE (about $5.50) price tag, is that I am able to purchase you on Sunday! Earlier than I can even buy ya in Pittsburgh. Barnes & Noble carries you about a week late, and Borders sometimes doesn’t have you for longer, if say Harry Potter or a new Dan Brown book was published that week. News doesn’t travel to Pittsburgh quick enough, I tell you. I’m glad I get it quicker in Cairo than I do at home. Still working on moving it up to a Friday arrival, like we get in Washington, but I will take Sunday. My roommate from Carlton (Ben) also has a deep passion for you, and reads you even quicker than I do (the reasoning is purely because I like you to last all week). So we have decided to alternate who buys each week, as to cut down costs in an already dirt-cheap city. That is clearly the Jew in me.

In closing, I know I have digressed from discussing how I get The Economist here to professing my true love for this newspaper. It is truly my love; it is always there for me, even halfway across the world in Cairo.