In Ghamra, Ahmad Ibrahim Shawkat finally found his way to the building of al-Insan al-Jadid (The New Man) magazine. Situated halfway between streetcar stops, the structure had two stories and a basement. From the wash hanging on the balcony, he realized at once that the top floor was an apartment. There was a sign with the magazine's name on the door downstairs. The basement was the printshop, for he could see its machines through the bars of the windows. He climbed the four steps and asked the first person he met a worker carrying proofs for Mr. Adli Karim, the magazine's editor. The pressman pointed to the end of an unfurnished hall and a closed door with a sign reading: "Editor in Chief". Ahmad walked that way, thinking he might see a receptionist, but reached the door without finding one. After a moment's hesitation he knocked gently. Then he heard a voice inside say, "Come in". Ahmad opened the door and entered. From the far end of the room, two wide eyes stared at him questioningly from beneath bushy white eyebrows.
Closing the door behind him, he said apologetically, "Excuse me. One minute…."
The man replied gently, "Yes___"
Ahmad went up to the desk, which was stacked with books and papers, and greeted the gentleman, who rose to welcome him. When the editor sat down again, he invited Ahmad to have a seat. The young man felt relief and pride at being able to view the distinguished master from whose magazine and book she had gained so much enlightenment during the past three years. Ahmad gazed at the pale face, which seemed even whiter because of the man's white hair. Age had left its mark on this visage. The only remaining traces of youth were deep eyes that sparkled with a penetrating gleam. This was his master, or his "spiritual father," as Ahmad called him. Now the young man was in the chamber of inspiration with its walls hidden behind bookshelves that stretched all the way to the ceiling.
The editor said curiously, "You're welcome…."
Ahmad answered suavely, "I've come to pay for my subscription". Reassured by the favorable impression his words had made, he added, "And I'd like to find out what happened to the article I sent the magazine two weeks ago."
Mr. Adli Karim smiled as he inquired, "What is your name?"
"Ahmad Ibrahim Shawkat."
The editor frowned as he tried to place the name and then said, "I remember you. You were the first subscriber to my magazine. Yes. And you brought three other ones. Isn't that so? I remember the name Shawkat. I think I sent you a letter of thanks on behalf of the magazine."
This pleasant memory made him feel even more at home, and Ahmad said, "The letter I received referred to me as 'the magazine's first friend.'"
"That's true. The New Man is devoted to principle and needs committed friends if it is to compete with all the picture magazines and the journals controlled by special interests. You are a friend of the magazine and most welcome. But haven't you honored us with a visit before?"
"Of course not. I only got my baccalaureate this month."
Adli Karim laughed and said, "You assume a person must have the baccalaureate to visit the magazine?"
Ahmad smiled uneasily and replied, "Certainly not. I mean I was young."
The editor commented seriously, "It's not right for a reader of The New Man to judge a person by his age. In our country there are men over sixty who have youthful minds and young people in the spring of life with a mentality as antiquated as if they had lived a thousand years or more. This is the malady of the East". Then he asked in a gentler tone, "Have you sent us other articles before?"
"Three that were ignored and then this last article, which I was hoping you would print."
"What's it about? Forgive me, but I receive dozens of articles every day."
"Le Bon's theories of education and my comments on them."
"In any case, if you look for it in the adjoining room where the correspondence is handled, you'll discover its fate."
Ahmad started to rise, but Mr. Adli gestured for him to remain seated and said, "The magazine's more or less on vacation today. I hope you'll stay and talk a little."
Ahmad murmured with profound gratitude, "I'd be delighted, sir.
"You said you got the baccalaureate this year. How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"Precocious. Excellent. Is the magazine widely read in the secondary schools?"
"No, unfortunately not."
"I realize that. Most of our readers are at the University. In Egypt, reading's considered a cheap entertainment. We won't develop until we accept that reading is a vital necessity". After a pause he asked, "What's the attitude of secondary-school students?"
Ahmad looked at him inquisitively, as if wanting clarification of the question, and the man said, "I'm asking about their political affiliation, since that's more obvious than other things."
"The overwhelming majority are Wafdists."
"But is there any talk of the new movements?"
"Young Egypt — Misr al-Fatat? It's insignificant. You could count its supporters on your fingers. The other parties have no foliowers except for relatives of the leaders. Then there is a minority that's not interested in any of the parties. Some, and I'm among them, prefer the Wafd to the others but hope for a more perfect one."
With satisfaction the man said, "This is what I wanted to know. The Wafd is the people's party and represents an important and natural step in our development. The National Party is Turkish, religious, and reactionary. The Wafd Party has crystallized and purified Egyptian nationalism. It has also been a school for nationalism and democracy. But the point is that the nation is not and must not be content with this school. We want a further stage of development. We desire a school for socialism. Independence is not the ultimate goal. It's a way to obtain the people's constitutional, economic, and human rights."
Ahmad cried out enthusiastically, "What a fine statement!"
"But the Wafd must be the starting point. Young Egypt is a criminal, reactionary, Fascist movement. It's just as dangerous as the reactionary religious groups. It's nothing more than an echo of German and Italian militarism, worshipping power, demanding dictatorial control, and disparaging human values and human dignity. Like cholera and typhoid, reactionary movements are endemic to this region and need to be eradicated."
Ahmad said zealously, "We in the New Man group believe this firmly."
The editor nodded his large head sorrowfully and said, "That's why the magazine is a target for reactionaries of every stripe. They accuse me of corrupting the young."
"Just as they once denounced Socrates."
With a gratified smile, Mr. Adli Karim said, "What's your goal? I mean, which college of the University are you heading for?"
"Arts."
The editor sat up straight and remarked, "Literature is one of the greatest tools of liberation, but it can also be employed for reactionary ends. So watch your step. From the mosque university of al-Azhar and from the Dar al-Ulum teachers college have come a sickening type of literature that has left generations of Egyptians with rigid minds and broken spirits. But no matter what, science is the foundation of modern life. … Don't be surprised that a man who is considered a literary figure should tell you this frankly. We must study the sciences and absorb the scientific mentality. A person who doesn't know science is not a citizen of the twentieth century, even if he is a genius. Artists too must learn their share of science. It's no longer just for scientists. Yes, the responsibility for comprehensive and profound knowledge of the field as well as for research and discoveries in it belongs to the scientists, but every cultured person must illuminate himself with its light, embrace its principles and procedures, and use its style. Science must take the place that prophecy and religion had in the ancient world."
Ahmad endorsed his master's statement: "That's why the message of The New Man is the development of a society based on science."
Adli Karim replied with interest, "Yes. Each of us must do his part, even if he finds himself alone in the arena."
Ahmad nodded his head, and the other man continued: "Study literature as much as you want, but pay more attention to your own intellectual development than to the selections you're asked to memorize. And don't forget modern science. In addition to Shakespeare and Schopenhauer, your library must contain Comte, Darwin, Freud, Marx, and Engels. Be as zealous about this as if you were religious, and remember that each age has its prophets. The prophets of this era are the scientists."
The editor's smile indicated that the conversation was coming to an end. Ahmad rose and stretched out his hand. He said goodbye and left the room, feeling joyously alive. Outside, in the hall, remembering his subscription and the article, he looked for the other room, knocked on the door to announce himself, and entered. He saw that there were three desks in the room. Two were empty, and a girl was sitting at the third. He had not been expecting this and stopped in his tracks. He looked at her inquisitively and apprehensively. She was around twenty, with a dark brown complexion, black eyes, and black hair. There was a resolute look about her delicate nose, pointed chin, and thin lips, but that did not detract from her beauty.
Scrutinizing him, she asked, "Yes?"
To justify his presence he said, "My subscription". He paid the amount and took the receipt. Then, overcoming his nervousness, he said, "I sent an article to the magazine, and Mr. Adli Karim told me it would be here."
She invited him to have a seat in front of her desk and asked, "The title of the article, please?"
Still uncomfortable about dealing with this girl, he replied, "Education According to Le Bon."
She opened a file and flipped through some papers until she pulled out the essay. When Ahmad glimpsed his handwriting, his heart pounded. From where he sat he tried to read the red notation upon it, but she saved him the trouble, remarking, "The note says, 'To be summarized and published in the section for readers' letters.'"
Ahmad was disappointed. He looked at her for a few moments without saying anything. Then he asked, "In which issue?"
"The next one."
After some hesitation he asked, "Who will summarize it?"
"I will."
He felt annoyed but asked, "Will it bear my name?"
She laughed and answered, "Naturally. There is usually a statement to the effect that we have received a letter from the writer…" She looked at the signature on the article and continued: "Ahmad Ibrahim Shawkat. Then we provide a full summary of your ideas."
He hesitated a little before saying, "I would have preferred for you to publish it in its entirety."
Smiling, she replied, "Next time, God willing."
He looked at her silently and asked, "Are you an employee here?"
"As you can see!"
He was tempted to ask what her qualifications for the position were, but his courage failed him at the last moment. So he inquired, "What is your name, please, so I can ask for you by telephone, if I need to."
"Sawsan Hammad."
"Thank you very much."
He stood up and bade her farewell with a wave of his hand. Before departing, he turned back to say, "Please summarize it carefully."
Without looking up she replied, "I know my job."
Regietting his words, he left the room.