Our telephonic primacy

''WE'RE NUMBER One!"

Americans often make this jingoistic boast in bouts of competitive patriotism. But on what basis? When it comes to the standard international ranking of countries in terms of human development (life expectancy, literacy, and purchasing power, as compiled by the United Nations Development Program), the United States comes in a respectable, but hardly chest thumping, number 7 (bested by Belgium, for goodness sake!) Even when it comes to the kind of measure with which UN-suspicious free marketeers are more comfortable -- straightforward GDP per capita -- we're still outdone by the likes of Norway and, Lord help us, Luxembourg.

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There is one incontrovertible standard by which we are first, though: international telephone ranking. I am not referring to cellphone use: In this respect we are laggards, trailing 34 other countries (including Estonia). I don't even mean the extent of regular landlines, where we are again 7th, squeaking ahead of those loquacious Icelanders.

No, the one measure by which we are literally Number 1 is our International Country Code. When you call home from overseas, you need merely hit (after dialing the international circuit) the number 1.

Disappointed? Don't be. There is much we can learn about the world, and America's place in it, by examining the international telephone code chart.

First off, don't take for granted the luxury of belonging to a unidigit power. Only three other countries in the entire world can claim single digit phone status. In terms of international power relations, it makes perfect sense. The Russian Federation, successor to that other superpower, the USSR, not only still rivals the United States in having single number access, but hangs on to Lucky 7.

The political status of the other two single digit countries actually reinforces the power of the United States and the Russkies. The homesick Kazak, whose Kazakstan motherland is nominally sovereign, is still in thrall to Russian imperialism when he wants to phone home: He needs to rely on Russia's number 7 to reach out to Mama in Astana. As for that other example of neocolonial telephonic dependency um, er, well, let's just say that we Americans are happy to share our Dial 1 identity with our neighbor to the north.

When we enter the realm of double digit telephonic statehood, however, the political ramifications are more subtle. Of the remaining 234 directly dialed international exchanges, only 45 make it into the 20-95 range. Note that there are no teen countries. Is it to avoid unintentionally belittling nations with permanent adolescent dialing numberhood?

Notwithstanding the lower income status at their extremes (20 is for Egypt, 95 for Myanmar ), double-digit phone countries include a wide swath of world powers and economies, with only a semblance of geographical logic. The 30s include both Greece and France, the 40s Romania and Sweden. While the 30s and 40s thereby jumble Western, Eastern, and Southern Europe in no particular order, the 50s are reserved for South America (although Mexico and Cuba do sneak in.) The 60s and 80s go to East Asia, the laid-back Aussis and Kiwis dialed in with the former. Perhaps because the Soviets never wished to share their telephonic luck, there are no 70s country codes.

If you are starting up a new country, you really don't want to be consigned to the triple digit upper end of the global numeric pad hierarchy. You might not be able to distinguish between static and gunfire when you connect with 964 (Iraq). Nepal is not assigned 977, one suspects, to honor its altitude. The highest country code, 998, belongs to Uzbekistan. Do you really wish to be 999?

By now, you may have already pulled your phone book and thought you've caught me in high-end error. ''There are nearly two dozen four-digit countries, all in the one thousands. And they're not so badly off." Well, yes and no. These do include Guam and Grenada, the Northern Marianas along with the Turks and Caicos. But in telephonic reality, all these islands are actually locked within the American Number 1 network, followed by the equivalent of an area code. In other words, whether ostensibly independent or not, they are colonies of the American telecommunications system. This ought to gall our callers from London: Does Tony Blair realize that when his countrymen ring up the British Virgin, Cayman, and Bermuda islands, they are really connecting through Ma Bell, handmaiden to Uncle Sam?

Further research may determine how Tristan da Cunha obtained its unique four-digit-beginning-with-2 number. As for the ''Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus" (the only listing in quotation marks), I suspect its five-digit code, 90392, indicates either a satellite routing via the Mars Rover or some arrangement between Ankara and the International Telecommunication Union.

Yes, America remains Number 1. We just need to ensure that all those higher number coded countries still want to speak with us.

William F. S. Miles is a professor of political science at Northeastern University.