Cairo Journal
From DESMOND STEWART
CAIRO
TlIE Cairo constants hug the memory: from the opened aeroplane the warmth that furs you; the swift-eyed walkers; the overcrowded streets that lose sharp edges just as a log taken over by bees blurs with movement; the edging sand; the central river. But last December a double crisis seemed to be changing a closed society. There was a crisis of prosperity among the masses, and therefore of scarcity; too much money was pursuing too few goods. More radi- cal still, a crisis of liberalisation was making the rigidity of more than a decade sag, its cer- tainties crumble. Seemed: was this merely a Phase, a mood, or something that could, eventu- ally, modify the constants?
Both crises are still untwisting, resolving, agonising, whatever crises do in a climate where nothing should be said too bluntly, where, ex- cept on the radio, enemy salutes enemy with ritual politeness The crises are not imaginings; they have vanished. The Yemen war continues; it is not dis- cussed. The week's meatless days—Monday, Tues- day, Wednesday—are an institution. They show as nothing else has done the seriousness of the socialist experiment. Under the old regime, perhaps 5 per cent ate meat every day and more than 80 per cent only once or twice a year. The new hardship has been borne bravely. It has even had a welcome side-effect: restaurateurs who had repeated the same tired dishes since 1952 have begun using pigeons, giant prawns, chickens and vegetables in interesting ways. Eating out is pleasanter as a result of austerity.
* The resurrection of the Egyptian press. Until recently it was informative and dull at its best, at its worst doctrinaire and inaccurate. The corri- dors of Cairo's three dailies have now stopped Yawning. Part of the vigour comes from released leftists. These have found a surprising patron in Muhammad Hassanain Haikal, whose monthly salary as editor of Al-Ahram is twice that of President Nasser and three times that of Dr. Hatem, the Deputy Prime Minister responsible for culture. Haikal, before the revolution, was a cub reporter on an illustrated weekly; his eulogies of Queen Narriman's dresses or descrip- tions of sensational crimes lie mouldering in un- consulted archives. Still young when the junta of unknown officers seized power, Haikal took his place on Major Salah Salem's .black list of Journalists considered venal or opportunist. Shortly afterwards, forgiven by the revolu- tionaries, he had the luck to be the reporter designated to 'cover' Gamal Abdul Nasser, then one unknown among many. Through this for- tuitous occurrence, allied to his own conformist dynamism, Haikal has achieved a great if pre- carious importance. His newspaper does not outsell its major rival, Al-Akhbar; but, since many scoops come directly to Haikal through his Closeness to the President, it is frequently quoted. It was Haikal who announced late in April that the Egyptian Communist party had voluntarily dissolved itself. This front-page statement was surprising. For one thing, no such party officially existed, the theory being that the UAR was a no-party state. For another, the underground Communist movement was known to be as schismatic as the church of Alexandria in the epoch of Arius. But Haikal is well-informed. One of his new confidants is Dr. Ismail Sabri Abdullah, formerly professor of economics at Alexandria University, now graduated from prison. Yet the Communists have not been having things all their own way. In the elections for head- ship of the influential Press Syndicate, Hafiz Mahmoud defeated a talented candidate alleged to have accepted Communist support.
The press, no longer under ministerial con- trol, has become much more critical. A cam- paign of cartoons and articles attacked the squalor of many neglected streets; portions of the city resembled an eastern Venice as flood water surged with sewage. Pavements are being renewed; a main-drainage scheme causes new but necessary upheaval.
* On a far profounder level, Dr. Louis Awad, a leading critic and playwright, has published a series of systematic but reasoned criticisms of some of the vaunted successes of the regime. Writing with Haikal's approval in the literary section of Al-Ahram, Dr. Awad has attacked the state of the theatre and the way in which Dar al Qowmiah (literally, House of Nationalism) has flooded an unwilling market with badly pro- duced books and pamphlets. According to Dr. Awad, the concentration on haste and quantity in developing the Egyptian theatre had all but ruined the public taste for drama. To cite one example from many, a badly produced and acted Hamlet, in an inferior translation, was mounted with costly state subsidies to tiny, disgusted audiences. While the box offices for plays in Arabic took in between LES and £E40 a night, the Comedic Francaise, acting in a foreign lan- guage, could take over one thousand pounds a night—this despite the radical diminution of Cairo's European population. As to books, Dr. Awad quoted official figures to prove that less than 15 per cent of most editions were sold. This was not because the Egyptians di: not want to read. It was because these badly translated foreign works, full of misprints and inaccuracies, found no buyers, however cheaply they were priced. (That piracy does not pay may give a certain pleasure to western authors whose works have been purloined in a country where copy- right so far exists in name alone.)
It would be only natural in a recently dicta- torial country for Dr. Awad's strictures to be taken, with a touch of Schadenfreude, as per- sonal attacks on Dr. Hatem, who, until last October, was responsible for the press, as well as culture, television, radio and tourism. To do so would be unfair. In a long-stagnant society. where culture was confined to a narrow elite. Dr. Hatem lunged bravely towards every cul- tural opening that he could see. He at least laid the basis for theatrical interest by opening a dozen new theatres in three years. He at least saw that cheaply produced books published in huge editions were essential if the ordinary Egyptians were ever to participate in public life. Many of his dreams have turned into nightmares. This is not one man's fault. Such disappointments are the inevitable result of lurching towards the highest goals from inadequate launching-pads. Mistakes, not mentors, teach us.
A year ago, the Cultural Institute at Kafr al- Sharafa was a pious aspiration. The dingy village at the Delta's apex had been chosen because of its abject poverty; cruel statistics showed it more wretched than its neighbours. Now the Institute is a fact; its domed architecture is simple and attractive. In it a village of 6,000 people can read books, learn sewing and dress- making, amuse themselves with amateur theatri- cals and enjoy what Women's Institutes, Boy Scouts, public libraries and Mothers' Unions pro- vide in England. The fact that this is the first such unit, that it is already thronged, that it may be followed by a hundred others—and one day, thousands—shows what a long leap Egypt has embarked on. To accomplish that leap with even partial Mat the country will need many Hatems and many Awads: it will need the variable of argument and .complaint. If initiator and critic can work in harmony, learning from each other, then there is hope for radical advance. If the liberalisation goes into reverse, then Egypt's horizon would suddenly indeed seem Indonesian.
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