Morsi takes on Egypt's military

Was the new Egyptian president neutered before he even entered office?

After a quiet opening fortnight, Mohamed Morsi's presidency has taken a confrontational turn.

Two decrees in the space of a week have boosted the newly elected president's credentials as an adversary of Egypt's junta, the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF). The first launched a new investigation into the deaths of protesters in the wake of the January revolution. If allowed to conduct its business unimpeded, this could prove damning for individuals within the military’s command structure. The second, meanwhile, called for the reinstatement of the country's newly elected parliament, a body that had been dissolved by the military on the eve of the presidential vote. 



Some believed Morsi’s influence had been neutered before he had even entered office. Despite assuming the trappings of power, he faces significant limitations on his ability to act.

The military-led transition that followed the fall of Hosni Mubarak saw a series of political maneuverings that cast doubt on the likelihood of an election taking place at all.

The SCAF had continuously reshaped the contours of the electoral race, aided by a proactive judiciary that disqualified three front-running candidates and declared that the law governing last year’s parliamentary elections was unconstitutional. Weeks of political and legal uncertainty were then compounded as the polls closed on June 18: an eleventh hour decree by the junta reclaimed key executive powers for itself, notably reserving the right to oversee the writing of a new constitution if existing drafters fail to perform adequately.

Furthermore, the military-drafted budget that came into force on Morsi’s first day in office leaves little room for new policies. Almost eighty percent of spending has already been allotted to subsidies, public sector salaries, and debt repayment, leaving only a small tranche with which to fulfill campaign promises on improved public services.

Yet despite these constraints, Morsi has now fired his opening salvos across the bows of SCAF authority. In calling for the reinstatement of the Muslim Brotherhood-led parliament, he is openly defying the generals. According to constitutional expert Dr Nathan Brown, this represents ‘a serious confrontation. This is an attempt to roll back the clock, but this time with the presidency in [Brotherhood] hands and with the SCAF fully committed to its June supplementary constitutional declaration.’

Nevertheless, the move may be less radical than it first appears. Morsi’s decree rejects the SCAF’s most recent political manipulations, but at this stage continues to comply with aspects of the political roadmap put forward by the junta in June. This emphasised the temporary nature of Egypt’s parliament, declaring that: "elections will take place one month from the day the new constitution is approved by national referendum."

In addition, the scope of Morsi’s latest decree remains limited. In targeting the SCAF’s dissolution of parliament, he has avoided the potential for a bolder challenge against the legal ruling which made this possible in the first place. This suggests that the move is more symbolic than it is motivated by a genuine belief that he holds the power to reinstate parliament.

After weeks of debate over the potential shape of a Morsi presidency, its contours are beginning to emerge. His approach to the parliamentary issue reveals a pragmatic attitude to challenging the military, testing the waters without disrupting them altogether.

The inevitable upshot of this opening gambit will be a revived debate over the parliament’s dissolution, pushing the issue back into the open and eliciting a greater degree of clarity over its future. A smart move, it seems, and one that appears to have knocked the usually confident SCAF off-kilter. The junta’s reaction will reveal much about where power really lies in the new Egypt.

 

Egypt's president, Mohamed Morsi. Photograph: Getty Images
Getty
Show Hide image

Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times