Inside the Entourage

The logistics of organizing an event like the President’s speech in Cairo today are mind boggling to say the least. While the White House is reluctant to give out planning details for security reasons, the scale of this undertaking is evident. Advance staffers swarm the city for weeks before the President arrives, tracing every step he’ll take. Nothing is left to chance. Everything – from who gets to ride in the motorcade and in what order, to how long it will idle in a parking lot  - is negotiated with the host nation. Press advance staffers work to make sure that the media has access to every event possible - a luxury few other countries afford their press corps. This means that one plucky advance staffer has managed to organize a wireless internet connection at the Pyramids for the small group of reporters tasked with documenting the President’s tour (thanks Johanna!). Even details that seem straightforward require patient and persistent planning. For example, around twenty White House and State Department staffers were involved in organizing Egyptian visas just for the traveling press. (While that seems like an absurdly large number, if you’ve ever had to organized a visa yourself, you’ll understand why it so darned complicated to organize it for dozens of reporters, many of whom, like yours truly, are foreign born.)

Every step of a President’s international trip is carefully choreographed. The result, when you are traveling in his entourage, is that the experience feels very disconnected from reality. I’ve never been to Egypt and when I leave, it will hardly feel as though I really saw this ancient land. The view from the Presidential motorcade it’s extremely rarefied. We see manicured gardens and gilded palaces behind imposing iron gates. We speed past the poorer parts of town, whisked from one privileged site to another. The grit, the smells, the spontaneous color and voices – in short, the life of the city – is hidden away, with only carefully chosen aspects funneled into the President’s view.

One striking difference between this place and others I’ve visited while following the President is the distinct lack of ordinary well-wishers. When the President visits a U.S. city, or even during his trips to Europe, Mexico and Trinidad, the motorcade route is usually lined with residents eager to catch a glimpse of Obama. Often carrying signs or waving flags, they cheer wildly when he passes. But here, the city is in virtual shutdown. Residents were encouraged to stay home and watch the speech on TV. Many grumbled about the enormous disruption to the usually vibrant city, which is home to 18 million people. Even on arrival at the University, the campus seemed eerily quiet – no rowdy student fans in sight. The motorcade route is blocked entirely to traffic, and onlookers are held back behind human barricades many blocks away. The streets were lined with guards, standing at attention with ten or so feet between them. They faced away from the motorcade, rather than towards it, keeping alert for signs of trouble. The resulting visual was a jarring one: miles of empty road stretching out before speeding vans, peppered with the straight backs of armed servicemen.