The Muslim Brotherhood (32 page)

Keen to get the constitution writing process completed before the presidential elections, not least because this way it could ensure that real power lay with the parliament rather than the presidency, the Brotherhood had set to work after its election victory to appoint the constituent assembly. In its rush to get the job done the way it wanted, the Brotherhood pushed things too far. Firstly, it nominated some 75 per cent of the 100 places in the assembly to Islamists, who hailed from the Salafist and Brotherhood currents. Whilst the Brotherhood had initially declared that it would not partner with the Salafists, once it saw an advantage in doing so, it moved to form a tactical alliance with them. Furthermore, out of the 100 seats, it insisted that 50 be given to parliamentarians, rather than those who hailed from outside the newly elected legislative body. Most of those parliamentarians it appointed
were from the Freedom and Justice Party. The Brotherhood also drew up a reserve list, which also comprised around 75 per cent Islamist nominees.

Whilst the Brotherhood justified its choice of appointees by rightly insisting that the composition of the constituent assembly reflected the results of the parliamentary elections, its actions further alienated other political groupings. Twenty-five members of the constituent assembly, who represented the non-Islamist element, walked out on the grounds that the body was not sufficiently representative. They included not only liberal and secular elements, but more importantly representatives from the Coptic Church and from Al-Azhar (Egypt’s official religious establishment). Indeed, the other political parties and groupings pulled together to protest at the ‘Brotherhood’s attempt to impose its hegemony over the constitution.’
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The obvious power grab made somewhat of a mockery of the Brotherhood’s talk of national consensus. With the rest of the world watching, this should have been the time for the movement to demonstrate its democratic credentials and its desire to be inclusive, especially towards Egypt’s minorities. But in the rush to gain the ultimate prize, and knowing that it would never have the same chance again, the Brotherhood seemed to forget itself, appearing to believe it could simply run roughshod over the objections of the other parties and constituencies. Freedom and Justice Party Secretary General, Saad al-Katatni, who was appointed as head of the constituent assembly rather disingenuously declared, for example, ‘If anyone boycotts its meetings they will be replaced by others elected as reserves.’
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Likewise, Brotherhood Secretary General, Mahmoud Hussein, declared that it didn’t matter whether or not the constituent assembly was representative because as a body it would gather suggestions from all Egyptians!
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Displaying how much it was still caught up in the pre-revolution mindset, the Brotherhood also slipped back into conspiracy theory mode and claimed that the military had been behind the boycott.

Furthermore, the Brotherhood also seemed to believe that its win at the polls meant it had been somehow mandated by the Egyptians to provide an Islamic future for the country through the constitution. Khairet al-Shater told the
New York Times
in March 2012 for example that the elections had proved that Egyptians were demanding ‘an explicitly Islamic state.’ He added, ‘The people are insistent … All institutions should revise their cultures, their training programs and the way they build their individuals in the light of this real popular choice.’
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The suspension of this committee was therefore a serious blow to the Ikhwan’s bid to consolidate its election gains and to turn them into real power. It also made winning the presidency a necessity. With the constitution in its existing form, it was the President who would wield all the power. Thus what started out as a bid to challenge the SCAF, turned into a race that the Brotherhood had to win. All the more so after 15 June when the SCAF formally dissolved parliament and stationed security forces around the building to bar MPs from entering the chambers without official notice.

By this point, however, the Brotherhood had been forced to field a new candidate. In another attempt to weaken the Brotherhood, al-Shater had been included in a list of ten presidential candidates banned from standing for the post. The reason for al-Shater’s disqualification was because of a disputed criminal conviction. In 2008 al-Shater had been convicted by a military tribunal of money laundering and funding a banned group, namely the Brotherhood. The military tribunal sentenced him to seven years in prison. Despite the fact that al-Shater’s lawyers argued that the Brotherhood leader had been granted a judicial pardon that covered all charges, the ban against him was upheld. Former intelligence chief, Omar Suleiman, who had proposed his candidacy in direct response to the Brotherhood’s putting forward of al-Shater, and Salafist leader, Hazem Abu Ismail, were also included in the ban.

Undeterred, the Brotherhood quickly fielded a backup candidate, Mohamed Morsi. A seemingly unprepossessing engineering graduate
who joined the Brotherhood while studying for his PhD in the US, Morsi rose through the movement’s ranks and in 2000 was elected as a member of the People’s Assembly. He served as the movement’s parliamentary bloc leader until 2005, when he became leader of the Brotherhood’s political division. Despite his lack of charisma, Morsi worked steadily towards the elections. When it came to the polls, he won 24.78 per cent of the vote in the first round, securing his position in a runoff against Ahmed Shafiq in the second round. On 24 June, Morsi was declared president, having won 51.73 per cent of the vote.

Although Morsi’s victory was not as decisive as the Freedom and Justice Party’s parliamentary election win, it was still a victory. By employing the tactics that had served it so well during its years in opposition, the Brotherhood had succeeded in turning its natural advantage into a tangible victory and after almost a century of opposition, the Brotherhood finally had Egypt in its hands.

The movement’s transformation from semi-clandestine opposition group into ruling power had not happened the way that the movement’s founder, Hassan al-Banna, or successive Murshids, might have wished or expected. The movement had always upheld that its main aim was to reform society from the bottom up. Yet the Brotherhood ultimately came to power through the shock of revolution, and a revolution which it could hardly claim as its own. However, in the event this seemed to matter little to the Brotherhood or its supporters. For them, the time had finally come.

It also seemed not to trouble the Brotherhood that it had come to power through the ballot box. Despite the fact that the movement had always displayed such resistance towards forming a political party and that the issue had caused some of the most serious ructions within the movement over previous decades, the Brotherhood proved more than willing to adapt itself to the prevailing climate. When the opportunity to get to power presented itself, the Brotherhood moved quickly and with typical pragmatism to capitalise on the unfolding situation.

The movement’s ability to respond to the changing circumstances on the ground stood it in good stead. Despite not having taken part in the uprisings right from the beginning and despite coming under relentless criticism for the way in which it conducted itself during the revolution and beyond, the Brotherhood used its might and its experience to put itself right at the heart of the events. Indeed, the Brotherhood positioned itself to dictate the transition in the way it wanted, enabling it to secure the ultimate prize. Furthermore, despite the fact that the uprisings started out as a revolution of the youth, it was the Brotherhood’s hardened old guard who proved shrewdest and toughest of all, and who were able to drive events in the way they saw fit. Indeed, for all the accusations that it had betrayed the cause, it was the Brotherhood who forced the revolution to its ultimate conclusion. That conclusion turned out to be the triumph of political Islam.

The victory of political Islam was not unique to Egypt. For all that commentators may have believed that the non-ideological nature of the uprisings had ushered in a new era that had moved beyond Islamism, the Arab Spring proved otherwise. In Tunisia, where the Jasmine Revolution had been organised primarily by youth and secular elements, including those linked to the leftist trades unions, it was the Islamist party, An-Nahda, which had no real presence in the country at the time of the revolution, that emerged triumphant. An-Nahda won the largest majority in the October 2011 elections to the constituent assembly, winning 41 per cent of the vote. It also went on to form the government in coalition with two other parties.

Although An-Nahda is not officially part of the Brotherhood, it was born out of the same ideological tradition and shares the same broad ideological outlook. Some of An-Nahda’s leaders are bound to the
Brotherhood’s international structures through their membership in international Brotherhood-oriented organisations such as the International Union of Islamic Scholars. As such Tunisians proved as susceptible to the pull of reformist political Islam at the polls as the Egyptians.

An-Nahda’s triumph was all the more shocking because Tunisia had always had a distinct image of itself as a modern, secular and open nation whose face was turned firmly and happily towards Europe. This was the legacy left by Habib Bourguiba, the country’s first president following independence, who, for all his authoritarianism, was increasingly coming to be viewed with nostalgia by Tunisians who had become utterly frustrated at the ignoble excesses of President Ben Ali. Moreover, unlike in Egypt that had always been the cradle of political Islamism and where the Brotherhood was still able to operate on the ground despite being banned, the Tunisian regime allowed no space whatsoever for the forces of political Islam. Although An-Nahda had had a presence in Tunisia since the 1970s when it started out as the Mouvement de la Tendance Islamique (MTI), and although the regime had on occasion given it some breathing space, such as in 1989 when it was permitted to contest the elections, as a whole the movement was systematically suppressed. By the time of the uprising, An-Nahda had been reduced to little more than a movement in exile. It was also a movement that was ravaged by in-fighting and factionalism, with the Paris and London branches at each other’s throats. Thus, when it came to the elections, although it had money, An-Nahda was not able to draw on the same kinds of networks that facilitated the Egyptian Brotherhood’s ascent to power, making its victory all the more impressive.

Yet, similarly to the Brotherhood, An-Nahda played the transition phase with extreme skill. Most notably, it positioned itself to appeal to as wide a spectrum of voters as possible. Drawing on its reputation for moderation, engendered by the more progressive teachings of its leader Sheikh Rashid al-Ghannouchi who had long insisted that Islam and democracy were compatible, An-Nahda moved into the middle
ground. Like the Egyptian Ikhwan, An-Nahda was equally keen not to frighten anyone off. It purposefully sought to reassure women, for example, asserting that it had no intention of modifying the personal status code or of imposing the hijab. It even went as far as to field a female candidate, Souad Abdul Rahim, who chooses not the wear the veil. Indeed, An-Nahda prioritised compromise giving the impression that it would be a reasonable and inclusive political player.

The party’s long experience, especially outside of Tunisia, gave it an organisational advantage and a degree of media savviness. An-Nahda instructed its supporters not to go to the airport to greet al-Ghannouchi when he returned from his long exile for fear of creating images reminiscent of Ayatollah Khomeini’s return to Iran.
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Displaying similar pragmatism, when it became apparent that some of the more ideologically rigid elements within the party could not conceal their more conservative thinking, the party kept them away from the media.
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An-Nahda was thus able to present itself as a unified body with a single cultural message despite the frictions and factions within the party between the radical and more moderate strands.

More importantly, An-Nahda positioned itself as the party that would restore traditional values and that would bring Islam and Arabism back to the heart of Tunisian society. In doing so it was careful to make it clear that it wanted to build a modern society, but also stressed that this society should be rooted in the country’s ‘authentic’ identity. To this end, rather than raise controversial issues such as polygamy, party members focused on how to deal with social phenomena such as people being forced to marry late due to financial hardship and high divorce rates.
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While such messages may not have appealed to all of the urban middle class, they certainly attracted enough Tunisians who felt alienated and troubled by the overt secularism of previous regimes.

Although An-Nahda was not the only party promising to shift the country back to its traditional Islamic and Arab identity (other parties, including those of an Islamist bent, promoted a similar message), it
had a major advantage over its competitors: it was a known entity whose leaders had a special moral authority on account of the years they had spent imprisoned or in exile. Sheikh Rashid al-Ghannouchi in particular was a prominent and respected historical figure whose personal sacrifices were well known. As such he, and by extension the party, were held up as untainted by corruption and for many, as being synonymous with Islam. Thus An-Nahda entered the elections with a symbolic capital that far outstripped that of its rivals.

An-Nahda was therefore able to appeal to a cross section of Tunisian society. Not only did it receive the largest share of the vote in the poorer areas of the interior, especially in al-Ghannouchi’s home area of Gabès, it managed to do well in the capital and notably in the more affluent areas of the coast, such as Sousse and Monastir, cities that had always been associated with the former regime. The key to much of An-Nahda’s success was that it was able to connect with the masses. Whilst the liberal and leftist parties struggled to reach out beyond the urban elite, An-Nahda’s message resonated with ordinary Tunisians, or at least with a large percentage of those who turned out to vote. The party was helped in this by the fact that it was able to use the country’s mosques for political mobilisation. In so doing, it had the ear of the masses and, as it turned out, the masses proved receptive to the party and its message.