Since its launch in Cairo in 1996, the annual Euromoney Conference has been one of Egypt’s most prominent economic events. A quick calculation shows that it has been held 16 times, culminating in last Wednesday’s edition. But what has it actually achieved? What tangible benefits has this supposedly major annual event brought?
To assess who benefits from the conference, we must look at its key participants: the organisers, official sponsors, exhibiting companies, the media, the elite business community, and, finally, the government and its representatives.
The company organising the event naturally profits from it, generating revenue through advertising fees paid by major corporations to have their logos displayed on conference materials, presentation screens, and even the lavish dining tables. Some large companies even sponsor exclusive workshops under the guise of addressing key economic issues, but in reality, these sessions are little more than corporate promotional events masquerading as ‘workshops’.
As for the official sponsors, they enjoy different levels of exposure depending on the amount they pay, with their names and logos sized accordingly—either individually or collectively. It is a straightforward promotional campaign, justified by the extensive media coverage the foreign organising company successfully attracts.
The exhibiting companies, which set up booths near the main conference hall, use them to market their products and services directly to an elite audience of investors and policymakers. This is nothing more than a commercial exercise, following standard business logic.
The media, meanwhile, does not merely fulfil its traditional role of reporting the news as it happens. In reality, the conference rarely delivers any groundbreaking exclusives, except in very rare instances over the past 15 years. Instead, newspapers seize the opportunity to dedicate special pages—sometimes entire supplements—in both Arabic and English, selling advertising space at premium conference rates. This fuels intense competition among media outlets, leading to cutthroat battles to secure key advertisers, with frequent instances of scheming and even poaching clients from rivals—all in the name of Euromoney.
Then there is the elite group of businesspeople, invited either to participate in discussions or simply to listen. For them, the conference is an opportunity to present themselves as captains of industry capable of propelling Egypt to the top of the global economy—at least if half of their statements and self-crafted images were to be believed. Some may be sincere, but their exaggerated concern for ‘Egypt’s economic prosperity’ is often the dominant theme. Beyond that, the event provides a chance for the wealthy to socialise, network, and possibly forge new business partnerships.
The government, which actively supports and promotes the conference by ensuring the presence of its top economic and political figures, plays a key role in the event’s success. It consistently manages to paint an overly optimistic picture of Egypt’s economic future, using carefully crafted language to strengthen its political position against critics of its economic policies.
The relationship between the organisers and the government is evidently strong, marked by a high level of coordination and cooperation. This partnership ensures that the participation of senior government officials becomes an annual economic showcase—one that is vital to the organisers’ success. The level of coordination is so precise that, even when the government is seemingly under scrutiny at the event, it always manages to emerge unscathed, skilfully sidestepping tough questions with diplomatic finesse. At times, the organisers even shield government representatives from media scrutiny by citing excuses such as time constraints or the need to catch a flight.
Ultimately, the conference is nothing more than a lucrative venture for the organisers, who profit from this carefully orchestrated performance each year. Fair enough—it’s business. But wouldn’t it be easier for everyone to stop repeating this tired spectacle that brings nothing new? In fact, doesn’t it often paint a misleading picture that is out of touch with reality? Aren’t the same recommendations, proposals, and issues recycled year after year for the past 15 years? And if the event is merely a business opportunity for all involved, wouldn’t it be far easier and more profitable for the organisers to ditch the charade and simply host a concert featuring a pop star like Mr Abu al-Leef singing ‘I’m King Kong’—rather than subjecting us to these endlessly repetitive theatrics?
This article was originally published in English.