It is not easy being the world number one in anything. Just ask Björn Borg, Steffi Graf, Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, Serena Williams or Novak Djokovic, who devoted their lives to it.
For these tennis greats, becoming world number one was a natural consequence of rare talent combined with a relentless drive to achieve greatness in their chosen sport, by winning as many matches and tournaments as possible.
But what does it mean for a country to become the world’s best at something?
There are no clear guidelines. In many cases, dominance emerges organically. Brazil and Argentina became the world’s best at football simply because that’s how things have turned out.
Similarly, Indonesia is rapidly establishing itself as a powerhouse in horror cinema; Colombia has distinguished itself as a leading producer of telenovela; and China has dominated table tennis for many years. Iran is leading the world in the production of AI-generated videos, India rules the cricketing world, as does Kenya and Ethiopia for distance running.
Most of these stories happened by chance. Egypt’s story, however, is not by chance.
Egypt’s rise to global supremacy in one thing – the sport of squash – is remarkable. In 2026, much of the world’s top 20 rankings, including the world number ones, are occupied by Egyptians, in both the men’s and women’s categories.
This is not a recent phenomenon. For decades, Egypt has produced a steady stream of squash champions in both the men’s and women’s categories, with many of them household names in the sport: Ramy Ashour, Mohamad El Shorbagy, Ali Farag, Tarek Momen, Karim Abdul Gawad, and the current world number one, Mostafa Asal. At the time of writing, four of the women’s top five are Egyptian: Hania El Hammamy, Nour El Sherbini, Amina Orfi and Nouran Gohar.
Egypt’s dominance did not happen by accident. It was the result of state investment.
It didn’t start out this way. After its invention at a British prep school in the 19th century, the sport spread throughout the British Empire, including to Egypt. The British built clubs for their colonial officials in Cairo and Alexandria, where Egyptian ball boys and service staff were granted access during off-hours.
Something clicked in the 1930s, when an Egyptian diplomat discovered squash in England and became so skilled that he won the British Open – the leading tournament at the time – six consecutive times. He proved that Egyptians could be the world’s best at a sport invented by their colonial rulers.
In the 1990s, the charismatic Ahmed Barada became a world champion, inspiring a generation of young Egyptians – especially from the middle class – to take up squash. More importantly, the president at the time, Hosni Mubarak, a recreational squash player, decided to commit state resources to elevate the sport’s status.
Mubarak oversaw investment in clubs, coaches and major tournaments with large prize money, helping professionalise the sport and raise its profile.
Since 1996, the Egyptian Open, staged in a glass court in front of the Great Pyramids of Giza, has become one of the sport’s most prestigious tournaments.
We now have a sustainable squash ecosystem, with strong clubs, family involvement, corporate sponsorship, and a deep talent pipeline. Egyptian players have even developed a distinctive playing style, characterised by aggression, creativity and flair.
This is all very interesting. But what does it mean?
As Egypt’s pyramids show, being the world’s best at something is rarely an accident.
– Marshall, Brisbane, April 2026