Egypt 2030 and the route to succession

“2030 will be the end of my term at the head of the state, and that [issue] is entirely settled.” With those words, President Abdel Fattah El-Sisi put an end to speculation that he might stay in power once his current term expires.

The statement was more than a date. It came with an assurance that the constitution would not be touched, and with a plan to prepare a cohort of future leaders through a 30-month training program at the Military Academy.

Some have welcomed the announcement that the president will leave on schedule, while others doubt he will. The episode deserves some reflection. How did observing the end of a presidential term become either news to celebrate or a promise to doubt, when the constitution is supposed to have settled the matter in advance? Respecting term limits is not a favor a ruler grants, nor a personal pledge citizens wait to see honored. It is a constitutional rule that governs the transfer of power and puts a time limit on holding office.

When compliance with that rule becomes an occasion for celebration, or its execution a matter of doubt, it shows how far confidence has eroded in the stability of constitutional rules and in their ability to manage a handover of power independent of individual will.

Whatever lies behind the statement, an Egyptian president leaving office when his term ends, within a stable constitutional framework, and not in the grave, in prison, or under house arrest, would be an important precedent in Egyptian history. But the value of that change will depend on more than it simply taking place. It will depend on whether it sets a precedent for the transfer of power in an ordinary constitutional procedure, not a historical exception tied to one president or the circumstances of his departure.

The transfer of power, now and in the future, should not hinge on a ruler’s wish to stay or go. It should be governed by clear rules, known to everyone and respected by everyone.

Training presidential hopefuls

The president’s pledge to leave office on schedule in 2030, and to leave the constitution unchanged, was followed by the announcement of a 30-month program at the Military Academy. It is meant to prepare a cohort of PhD holders aged 40 to 50 to take on the responsibility of leading the state. A committee including the speaker of the House of Representatives, the ministers of justice and higher education, and public figures would set the selection criteria and draft the legal framework for the initiative.

Under the plan as announced, Egyptians would be able to choose from among a pool of qualified candidates, while anyone with six or more years in government service would be exempt from the program.

This initiative raises many problems, the mildest of which is that it is not the president’s job to choose who comes after him or to set criteria for suitable candidates. The criteria are in the constitution and the election law, and the choice belongs to the people.

The bigger problem is the assumption that understanding the state, grasping what the country means, and having the patriotism needed to lead Egyptians all require qualification conferred by one particular institution, even as, under the announced plan, anyone with six years in government is exempted from it.

This is not about questioning the competence of those who will be assigned to train candidates, or of those who would be exempted. It is about objecting to the assumption that belonging to one institution automatically gives a person a deeper understanding of how to run the state than other Egyptians necessarily have. Patriotism is not a military rank, and understanding the state is not an institution’s exclusive privilege. Nor can the ability to manage a country’s affairs be measured by a single career path, however important.

Egypt has judges, academics, doctors, engineers, economists, diplomats, workers and farmers by the millions, along with people of political and administrative experience, who have helped build the state and served society from many positions. It makes little sense to assume they need an additional credential to prove they understand what the state means, while others are exempted on the strength of years spent in the machinery of government alone.

The matter becomes more sensitive still when the military itself is training prospective presidential candidates, since that raises a question about the limits of its role in political life. Will it be confined to passing on administrative experience and institutional discipline, or will the institution also have a say in the criteria used to decide who is fit to lead the state?

Respect for the venerable military institution, and recognition of its role in defending the country, does not require handing it a monopoly over the definition of patriotism or over deciding who alone is qualified to understand the state. Respect for all of the state’s institutions requires acknowledging the diversity of national experience. Egyptians’ right to run for office and hold responsibility should not be subject to a prior assumption that one professional group is more patriotic, or inherently better at understanding how to run the state, than the rest of the country’s citizens.

The real test

The years remaining until 2030 should not be a waiting period for the day the president leaves the palace. They are a chance to test whether political and constitutional institutions can turn a pledge into a clear path, open the field to real competition, and ensure that choosing the next president is the citizens’ right, exercised under known rules.

The president’s announcement should become the starting point of a new political phase, one in which civic space opens up, civil liberties are set free, and political parties get a real chance to work, reach citizens and present their programs and ideas.

Capable leaders are not found only through training programs. They also emerge from open political work, public debate and competition among visions and alternatives. Opening the field for parties to put forward their own leaders and programs would generate political momentum, letting Egyptians get to know people with the competence, ideas and ability to solve the country’s problems, and giving voters a real choice among alternatives.

Rather than searching for future leaders within a closed program, a broader process could produce them from society itself through vibrant political life and free competition. Preparing for 2030 would then be a chance to rebuild trust between citizens and politics, not merely an arrangement for picking who takes over when the presidential term ends.

The measures of recent months do not suggest any change in political will, or in the state’s view of politics and society and their various institutions, from parties and professional syndicates to the media. But one hopes that will change soon, especially since events unfolding in the region now, and those still to come, make all Egyptians, opponents even more than supporters, want any future transfer of power to happen smoothly and peacefully, without the upheaval Egypt neither needs nor can bear.