Plain Talk
By Mursi Saad El-Din
Whenever I'm reading a book, a newspaper or magazine, especially in English, the thought of Egypt is always at the back of my mind. And, in relation to what I'm reading -- high- tech developments in another country, say -- I ask myself whether it could apply to us. Are we the same or different? How well do we compare? This attitude is probably due to the fact that I have to produce a weekly column for this newspaper and a biweekly article, in Arabic, for the daily Al- Ahram ; and it always helps to keep my ideas fresh and my knowledge of the world up to date. Equally, I feel, it makes sense that my concern with the country should inform everything I write, whether in Arabic or English.
To some extent this takes away from the pleasure of reading, the relaxed kind which aims at pure enjoyment -- entertainment. Reading becomes some kind of homework, which must be done and submitted to the teacher -- in this case, the editor -- on time. Having said this, on the other hand, I hasten to add that I still enjoy reading immensely, especially of books and articles that relate to what I happen to be thinking about at the time. Nothing compares to the joy it gives me.
One article I particularly enjoyed reading last week was in the Guardian, by Martin Jaques. The title in itself is attention-grabbing: "We're all teenagers". And the article, as it turns out, deals with an equally stimulating topic -- what the writer calls "a strange phenomenon". He discusses the paradoxical fact that, while the population of Britain is older than it has been for over a century, the culture "has never been more adolescent". The number of young people may be dwindling, but "they exercise an extraordinarily powerful influence on the cultural stage from television and newspapers to film and art".
This tendency, the writer claims, started with the rebirth of pop music as a youth genre. But now it has gone beyond this, affect areas that were never self- avowedly adolescent in the past -- such as art and film. It is not only that they are negative, "they are also characterised by transience and shallowness, a desire to shock for shock's sake, and a belief that only the present is of value".
Going through this I can't help thinking of the situation in Egypt. While we differ from England in that our population is young rather than old, we are rather alike in terms of culture. Even the most cursory review of our films and television programmes will reveal abundant evidence of what Jaques calls "shallowness".
The writer goes on to explain that this obeisance to adolescence is simply a characteristic of the arts -- reflected in newspapers, which are in most cases concerned with and expressive of the concerns of the young. He gives examples of accounts of personal experience and lifestyle columns, the growing preoccupation with the personal as opposed to the political, the general retreat from the serious. He then discusses television "reality programmes" which are completely devoid of substance -- the ultimate in "inanity" -- and goes on to explore a range of issues.
Jaques reaches fascinating conclusions. The underlying reason for such cultural adolescence, he asserts, are fundamental. For over half a century the West has known prosperity, never experienced mass unemployment and "never fought wars except at other people's expense" -- it has lived, in short, in a continuum that does not provide for grand visions, preparing itself wholly for the quiet life.
It is extremes of experience that teach us the meaning of life. Without them everything would turn shallow. Contemporary British art may shock, but it hardly provides us with a deeper insight into the human condition. So perhaps it is out of our relative disadvantage, here in Egypt, that we should expect a renaissance -- it is such disadvantage that will ultimately protect us from shallowness and inanity.