FIFTY YEARS ago, drawn to the perceived dynamism of fresh, young military leaders, scholars and policy analysts became enamored of the potential role of the military in political, economic and social modernization. The “man on horseback,” as S. E. Finer described it, was seen as best positioned to effect the transition from developing to modern societies. The military, it was believed, could draw on the institutional cohesion and its monopoly of coercive power to marshal the resources and will necessary to push societies forward. Egypt was studied as a prime example.

Things did not quite turn out as the academics expected. After overthrowing the monarchy and seizing power in 1952, the so-called Free Officers in Egypt constricted the political space and monopolized power, driving Islamists underground and marginalizing old-time liberal political elements. Their sweeping modernization programs nearly bankrupted Egypt. Ultimately, the monopoly of power achieved by Egypt’s revolutionists, led by Gamal Abdel Nasser, primarily was used to maintain the military’s dominant position and ensure that its interests were protected and advanced.

To be sure, Nasser had grand—indeed, grandiose—dreams to revamp Egyptian society. In the name of agricultural reform, he broke up large landholdings and parceled out land to Egypt’s fellahin, or peasants. Though a socially progressive move, this initiative undercut agricultural economies of scale and helped transform Egypt into a major importer of wheat and other basic foodstuffs. In the name of reversing the evils of capitalism, the government became the initiator and owner of large-scale manufacturing enterprises, which ensured mass employment but also drained the national budget as huge losses ensued. Nationalized financial entities experienced a similar fate. In the name of promoting pan-Arab secular nationalism, Nasser threatened conservative Arab neighbors, ultimately involving Egypt in a messy civil war in Yemen that severely weakened Egypt’s military capabilities in the years before the 1967 war with Israel. By the late 1970s, a decade after Nasser’s death and more than twenty-five years into the Egyptian revolution, the best that could be said about the military-dominated Egypt was that national pride had been restored and all Egyptians suffered equally.

IN MANY respects, the next forty years under Anwar Sadat and Hosni Mubarak represented an effort to correct some of the missteps that occurred after the 1952 revolution. Sadat scaled down the rhetoric against Arab monarchies; switched Cold War allegiances from the Soviet Union to the United States; made war and then peace with Israel; tried to open the economy to private-sector activity; and experimented with a government-led multiparty system. Despite all these initiatives designed to correct the course of the Egyptian revolution, Sadat’s crackdown on the Muslim Brotherhood and other opposition elements ultimately led to his assassination at the hands of Islamist radicals within the military.

Mubarak solidified the peace treaty with Israel, but he did so at the cost of ending Egypt’s leadership role in the long-standing Arab confrontation with Israel. Mubarak also moved Egypt decisively into the arms of the United States. He used the $1.3 billion in annual U.S. military assistance to rebuild the Egyptian armed forces, tying Egypt to American arms, doctrine and training. He used the $800 million of annual U.S. economic assistance to reconstruct the country’s failed infrastructure. Indeed, when Mubarak became president in 1981, water, wastewater, electricity and telecommunications capabilities were in crisis. Within twenty years, all of this critical infrastructure had been rebuilt and modernized. And Mubarak also oversaw a dramatic opening of the economy, shepherding the system through a tough but successful IMF-directed macroeconomic reform program in the 1990s and then appointing a reform cabinet ten years ago with a mandate to expand the private sector.

Despite this impressive record of change and adaptation, Mubarak failed to undo the three most egregious mistakes of the Nasserist past. First, continuing the military’s long-standing antipathy toward and distrust of the Muslim Brotherhood, Mubarak kept in place emergency laws that defined the authoritarian character of the political system. While a semblance of free speech was tolerated—provided such speech did not touch the presidential family—politics were stifled. Political parties and the parliament were a joke, and civil society became an arm of the state rather than an outlet for expression and volunteerism. By the mid-2000s, significant political ferment was evident, catalyzed by rigged elections, heavy-handed police crackdowns and, perhaps most strikingly, the possibility of the hereditary succession of Mubarak’s son Gamal to the presidency.

Second, Mubarak failed to address social problems generated by unequally distributed economic growth. Privatizations turned the well connected into massively wealthy individuals whose conspicuous consumption knew no limits. Luxury cars filled the streets of Cairo, and Egypt’s Red Sea and Mediterranean coastlines were overbuilt with luxury, gated compounds of massive houses and pools. Meanwhile, a large portion of Egyptians still suffered from hunger, poverty and unemployment. If a mantra of the Nasser years was “at least we all suffered equally,” Mubarak turned the gap between rich and poor into a very wide chasm.

Third, Mubarak allowed, and probably encouraged, the military to take on the character of a parastatal business conglomerate that enriched the officer corps while, paradoxically, leading to a significant decline in military professionalism. In addition to running a large number of military industries, the military produced civilian consumer goods and established agriculture and infrastructure businesses. Remarkably, the extent of the military’s presence in the economy is unknown—its businesses are reported to be worth anywhere from 10 to 30 percent of Egypt’s GDP—because the military is exempt from public reporting and oversight.

THE 2011 Tahrir uprising initially constituted a rebellion against the first two of Mubarak’s failings—that is, the persistence of authoritarian rule and the growing economic inequalities. Authoritarianism had taken a toll even on the storied Egyptian patience, and masses of people proved ready to stay in the streets in the face of a possible regime crackdown. But the targets were Mubarak, his hated interior minister, Habib el-Adly, and senior aides. The military was not singled out. The Tahrir crowds also seethed at the perceived corruption of Mubarak personally and the business community. Many businessmen fled immediately, following the money they had sent offshore over the years. Those too slow to realize the extent of the animosity against them were jailed, tried and convicted, usually in the space of just a few weeks. The perceived corrupt ministers and businessmen were the targets—again, not the military.

Only in recent months has the revolution turned its focus to the military itself, in large part because of the clumsiness, heavy-handedness and tone deafness of the senior military officers who constituted themselves as the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), effectively the rulers of Egypt since Mubarak’s ouster. At Tahrir, the military astutely positioned itself as the champion of the revolution—refusing to move against the demonstrators and forcing Mubarak first to appoint a vice president, then to forego another term and finally to leave office. But after more than a year of exercising direct political power, the military has revealed its self-centered interests—preserving its corporate role as the praetorian guard of the political system and ensuring that its economic prerogatives remain unchallenged.

As the Egyptian military sees it, the SCAF has exerted considerable effort to adapt itself to a volatile and uncertain period of political instability while maintaining three self-defining critical elements: its embodiment of the 1952 revolution and the essential character of the state and its institutions; its exclusive role in determining national-security threats and the responses of the state; and its economic equities and interests, including exclusive control over the military budget. As a new civilian political leadership assumes power, led by President Mohamed Morsi and underpinned by an Islamist-majority parliament, the central question is whether Islamists and the military will engage in a winner-take-all battle for control of Egypt. That may prove to be the only pathway to a more transparent and inclusive democracy.

UNTIL THE 2011 Tahrir uprising, the extent of the Egyptian military’s praetorian role had diminished gradually since the founding of the modern republic in 1952. Initially, the military, as the champion of the new regime, played a dominant role in the daily governance of the country. But as the military gradually professionalized and expanded its role into the civilian economy, its direct role in the political space diminished. This is not to say it was not powerful; it remained one of the preeminent institutions in Egypt, along with the office of the president. But the military’s influence shifted horizontally with its economic activities and high conscription rates, as opposed to the top-down control exercised by the executive branch.

All of Egypt’s past presidents—Naguib, Nasser, Sadat and Mubarak—were former military officers, and they relied on this military legacy to bolster their legitimacy. At the same time, the extent of the military’s role in daily governance was defined vis-à-vis the sitting president, the only position in Egypt to which that military was truly accountable. Therefore, the different circumstances and leadership styles of the Nasser, Sadat and Mubarak presidencies directly influenced the historical progression of the Egyptian military toward a semiprofessionalized force with unique profit-seeking economic motives.

The leaders of the 1952 revolution, Nasser’s Free Officers, were all military men, and their struggle against the British interlopers and the increasingly unpopular King Farouk created an image of the military as the core of the Egyptian nationalist identity. The military also often was perceived—by the public and by itself—as the only group strong enough to unify the country against external opposition and save the nation from a collapsing government.

These conditions under which the Free Officers came to power gave them nearly absolute authority. Thus, they faced little resistance when they banned all political parties and established the Liberation Rally to channel all political activity to support Nasser’s regime. Not even the large Muslim Brotherhood network posed a challenge to the Free Officers’ authority. Of course, the Brotherhood did not have the organizational capacity or political acumen in the 1950s that it had achieved by 2011. But even if it had been better equipped to participate in formal governance, the Brotherhood could not have challenged the popularity and prestige of the military. Thus, during the Nasser era, the military faced no real opposition, and it exercised and accumulated power. The real struggle for political supremacy was within the military itself.

As he fended off challenges from the Brotherhood and old-time liberal politicians, Nasser struggled to consolidate power against his adviser and supposed friend, Field Marshal Abdel Hakim Amer, the popular leader of the military and Nasser’s only potential governmental rival. Nasser was aided in this rivalry by military defeats and setbacks, including Egypt’s military humiliation in the 1956 Suez War and the debilitating deployment of Egyptian forces in Yemen in the 1960s. Despite these setbacks, Amer remained popular until the 1967 war against Israel, which proved to be his undoing. Amer resigned in disgrace, then was arrested and eventually committed suicide in prison.

Although Nasser relied on the military to crush the formation of any civilian opposition groups, he could not tolerate a military leader holding more power than he. Amer’s downfall enhanced Nasser’s power and marked the initial transition from a military engaged heavily in politics to a more professional military. Nasser finalized this transition when he purged the military leadership following the 1967 war. After this, all of the military leaders from the 1952 revolution, for whom the Egyptian people felt extreme fondness and loyalty, had been removed from power. This allowed Nasser to shift the spotlight fully onto his executive office.

The Sadat era brought about further military disengagement from politics and a new focus on military professionalism and its own corporate economic interests. Sadat strategically reinforced the military’s subordination to the presidential office by removing Nasser loyalists in the military leadership and the civilian Arab Socialist Union during the 1971 “corrective revolution.” This resulted in a cadre of top generals and civil servants who owed their positions to Sadat, ensuring he would face little challenge from the military. Sadat’s focus on regaining the Sinai Peninsula from Israel led the military further in the direction of professionalization. The military’s successful crossing of the Suez Canal and its ability to hold ground against Israel’s counterattack restored the military’s credibility, boosted its morale and reinforced its national-defense role.

Sadat gradually removed the military from daily politics but allowed—perhaps even encouraged—the military to increase its privileged status in Egyptian society. Imad Harb, a Middle East specialist based in the UAE, notes that the 1979 “Law 32” gave the military financial and institutional independence from the government’s budget and oversight activities and allowed it to open private accounts in commercial banks. Thus, profits from the military’s economic activities were returned to its own coffers, making it impossible for Egyptians or civilian government officials to have meaningful input on budget priorities or oversight of expenditures.

Mubarak continued both to professionalize the military and to expand its economic strength and independence. The tradeoff was the military’s complete subordination to the president. This tradeoff allowed the military to preserve three key corporate interests during this period.

First, the military sought to preserve the Egyptian people’s view that it is the core institution in the country’s national identity. Indeed, the military plays an important socialization role through the annual conscription of about 12 percent of young Egyptian males. Additionally, the military is a major source of employment for the country. According to the State Department’s “World Military Expenditures and Arms Transfers” report, in 2005 the military employed about 440,000 Egyptians, over 2 percent of the male working-age population.

Second, although Egypt did not face a salient external threat as it did in the 1970s, the military leaders sought control over national-defense matters, including the definition of threats and the ability to declare war. This principally means maintaining control of the Ministry of Defense, leaving the Interior Ministry (and internal security) under control of the presidency. In Mubarak’s time, this division of powers worked well, but it raises serious questions in the postrevolution political configuration.

Third, the military wanted to protect its economic interests and its ability to operate its companies beyond political or public scrutiny. The military now owns and operates defense and arms industries, civilian industries, agriculture and national infrastructure. Former trade minister Rachid Mohamed Rachid estimated that the military’s empire comprises less than 10 percent of the Egyptian economy. This estimate may be on the low side. Amr Hamzawy, a former research director for the Carnegie Middle East Center recently elected to the new Egyptian parliament, pegged the military’s economic activity at up to 30 percent of Egypt’s total economy, or about $60 billion. The military will do everything in its power to maintain its business holdings, including its ability to keep its activities off-budget and secret as stipulated in Law 32. As Robert Springborg, a scholar on Egypt’s military at the Naval Postgraduate School, has noted: “Protecting its businesses from scrutiny and accountability is a red line the military will draw. And that means there can be no meaningful civilian oversight.”

Under Mubarak, the military did not seek to engage directly in the daily governance of the country. Its synergistic relationship with the office of the president permitted this behind-the-scenes approach: the military remained loyal to the executive branch, and the president protected the military’s privileged position. This dynamic removed the military from political accountability, allowing it to continue its activities while also maintaining its positive image in the minds of Egyptians.

IN JANUARY 2011, Egyptians took to the streets. After less than three weeks of protests, Mubarak stepped down, ending nearly thirty years in office. Fearing a political vacuum, the military declared itself the interim ruler of the country in the form of the SCAF. For the first time since the 1952 revolution, the military governed Egypt directly.

Drawing on the positive image the military earned in the eyes of the Tahrir revolutionaries, the SCAF fancied itself as the only national actor with the legitimacy, ability and standing to protect the country. Despite close ties to Mubarak, the SCAF’s decisive move to force his ouster further built the military’s credibility as an institution willing to act in the national interest.

Once in the political spotlight, however, the SCAF found its activities scrutinized closely and measured against an undefined scale of progress toward civilian rule and democracy. In large measure, the SCAF failed these tests, repeatedly giving priority to preserving its own interests over any rapid democratic transition. Despite initial favor with the Egyptian people, the SCAF’s successive blunders and missteps highlighted its self-interested political and economic motives, weakened its popularity and called into question the sincerity of its role as the defender of the Egyptian state.

The SCAF seemed to regard all political movements as self-centered and myopic, with the initial exception of the Muslim Brotherhood. After decades of exclusion from the formal political process, the Brotherhood turned its attention to an electoral agenda, establishing the Freedom and Justice Party. At the onset of the revolution, the Brotherhood recognized the military’s popularity and legitimacy in the eyes of the people and thus was initially supportive of the SCAF’s decisions. In February 2011, the SCAF introduced nine amendments to the constitution, which included shortening the presidential term, creating a two-term limit, expanding the pool of potential presidential candidates and restricting the application of emergency law. Despite protests from youth and activists, the Brotherhood supported these amendments, which were passed in a popular referendum with 77 percent approval in March 2011.

Over time, however, the core interests of the military and the Brotherhood diverged: the SCAF sought to ensure its economic interests and its position above the law and politics, while the Brotherhood sought power to rule Egypt and thereby legitimize its Islamist agenda. This conflict was first evident in the Brotherhood’s response to the SCAF’s constitutional declaration, or the so-called Selmi document—a sixty-three-article decree that outlined “supraconstitutional” principles, including giving the SCAF veto power over the constitution and preventing future presidents, legislators and the public from inspecting the details of the military budget. This document also gave the SCAF power to nominate eighty members to the constitutional drafting assembly, thereby denying the Muslim Brotherhood an expected majority. The Selmi document was submitted by Deputy Prime Minister Ali al-Selmi to about five hundred politicians in November 2011. It was quickly condemned by most political groups, including the Brotherhood, and it reignited protests in Tahrir Square, where tens of thousands of mostly Islamist protestors rallied in the largest demonstration since the revolution. The SCAF appeared to withdraw the document, although its core principles reemerged in June 2012, during the constitutional crisis created by a court’s ruling that invalidated the parliamentary elections. The document, both in 2011 and 2012, revealed the SCAF’s true political ambitions.

The SCAF and the Brotherhood also differed constantly over the timing of key steps in the transition process. For example, Islamic and liberal parties disagreed on whether to draft the new constitution before or after parliamentary elections. Liberal political parties pushed to draft the constitution prior to the elections to mitigate fears that sharia would become the basis of legislation in a Brotherhood-dominated parliament. Conversely, the Brotherhood expected to win the elections and thus wanted to be in a position to control the constitution-drafting process. The SCAF used this debate as an opportunity to push once again its supraconstitutional principles, which would go into effect immediately and set the benchmark for any future constitution. Instead of creating a meaningful compromise, this proposal angered the Brotherhood because it showed the SCAF’s intention to influence the constitution regardless of who eventually was selected to write it. According to recent reports, the SCAF did this in order to preserve its corporate interests and to ensure the secular identity of the Egyptian state in the context of a Brotherhood-dominated government. Indeed, one Egyptian jurist went so far as to say that the military and the Supreme Constitutional Court colluded in an effort to protect the constitutional process from being hijacked by the Islamists. Anwar el-Sadat, a nephew of the former president and a member of the disbanded parliament, summarized this sentiment when he said that the generals “want to make sure before they leave that the Constitution is not monopolized by any group or direction. They would like to make sure [Egypt] is a civil state.”

The most serious crisis of the postrevolution transition occurred in June 2012, when the Supreme Constitutional Court, appointed by Mubarak and generally perceived to be acting in concert with the military, dissolved the popularly elected parliament. Jurists noted that the SCAF structured parliamentary elections in such a way that would allow it, working alongside the judiciary, to negate the results at any time by applying previous legal precedents. Many speculated that this move was another attempt to reestablish a military-backed, autocratic government and a means for the military to fix the election in favor of Ahmed Shafik, a former air force commander who ran on a law-and-order platform. Shadi Hamid, research director of the Brookings Doha Center in Qatar, summed up fears over the court’s decision: “From a democratic perspective, this is the worst possible outcome imaginable. This is an all-out power grab by the military.”

The SCAF further fueled speculation about its intentions to consolidate power when it reinstated the principles set forth in the Selmi document just before the presidential election. This declaration reimposed martial law, removed military decisions from public or government accountability, and gave the military formal oversight of the political system. Critically for the presidential election, the president was removed as head of the SCAF and presidential powers were significantly limited. The SCAF also announced the creation of a national-security council that, while nominally under the chairmanship of the president, would have a majority of military-appointed members.

After a period of intense behind-the-scenes maneuvers and negotiations between the SCAF and the Brotherhood, the Supreme Elections Committee in late June announced Mohamed Morsi, the Brotherhood’s candidate, as the winner of the presidential election. Morsi promised to represent all Egyptians and to appoint a unity cabinet. The military promised to return to the barracks. Yet the future of military-Brotherhood ties and the military’s ambitions remain uncertain.

THE PROSPECT of serious change in Egypt—meaning the building of a democratic culture and democratic institutions—depends to an outsized degree on the future attitudes and actions of the Egyptian military. In most respects, it has been comfortable with the regime and the nature of the political system over the past sixty years, since the 1952 revolution. While there were moments of tension between the political and military elites during that time, none of these minicrises threatened to redefine the very nature of politics. Nasser and Abdel Hakim Amer dueled over who would be preeminent in decision making. Sadat and the leaders of the “centers of power” revolt in 1971 wrestled for political power. Mubarak dismissed Defense Minister Abdel Halim Abu Ghazala in 1989 not only on charges of corruption but also because Abu Ghazala appeared to be a competitor for power. Field Marshal Mohamed Hussein Tantawi and the military brass pushed Mubarak aside in 2011 largely in order to preserve the regime, not to uproot it. Thus, relations between the military and the political leadership have not always been smooth, but the two coexisted as partners in arms. The challenge ahead is whether the military can abide the kinds of systemic changes that a Muslim Brotherhood–led government and parliament would implement in the truly revolutionary, regime-changing phase of the Egyptian uprising that began in Tahrir Square.

At least four barometers will be instrumental in assessing the military’s acceptance of political change. Most important will be the nature of the system of politics and the controlling regime that emerges in the months ahead, both with regard to the military’s autonomous position in society and the preservation of a secular regime. As this article is being written, there is great uncertainty whether new elections for parliament will be necessary, under what conditions a new constitution will be drafted, and whether street violence and pressure will affect the transition to civilian rule. Each of these issues will pose tactical choices for the military and will influence the future direction of politics and the nature of the Egyptian state. In a large, strategic sense, the military will evaluate its course of action on these and related issues according to a simple metric: Will the proposed course of action fundamentally alter the system in a manner that erodes the military’s special place and role in society?

The military’s interest in the nature of the regime should not be confused with its insistence on actually governing. Steven Cook of the Council on Foreign Relations got it right some years ago when he argued that the military wants to rule but not govern. This remains the case today, notwithstanding the temporary detour that the SCAF took in actually governing. (Indeed, that experience likely reinforced the military’s distaste for politics.) Although the SCAF may not want to govern, it does want to maintain power—particularly with regard to drafting the constitution—in order to establish an institutional framework that preserves the secular nature of the state, irrespective of who is elected to the parliament and the presidency.

A comfortable regime for the military would look a great deal like the system of the past decades with, perhaps, a greater degree of democratic messiness. Parliament will be vocal; the new president will try to preside but under the watchful and skeptical eye of the military; the judiciary will flex the muscles it long has wanted to in order to ensure its independence; and civil society will remain restive. All of this probably would fall within the comfort zone of the military, especially if the focus of political activity is domestic—the economy, social issues and the like.

A related issue for the military will be the degree to which its corporate interests and self-defined position as the embodiment of the 1952 revolution remain unaffected. For a military that has not had to fight since 1973—not counting the expeditionary nature of Egypt’s role in the 1991 Gulf War—the Egyptian officer corps has maintained its esprit de corps largely on the basis of its foundational role in the modern history of the country. When the youthful Tahrir protestors recognized this at the outset of the 2011 uprising, it was a brilliant tactical nod to the most important player of all. Eighteen months later, the youth and the military know that such recognition is no longer so easily assured, but for the military, it is no less important.

In practical terms, the military will define this issue on the basis of how much independence it retains in the budget process and in defining national-security policy for the country. The military will not permit civilian control over its budget, and it will balk at almost any effort by civilians to exercise oversight. Since this is a benchmark for democratic evolution, there is sure to be a titanic clash over this issue in the period ahead.

Regarding national-security policy, the recently revived national-security council will be staffed largely by military appointees. While the new president is likely to be given some leeway in some aspects of foreign policy—just as Mubarak often allowed the foreign ministry to play a nearly independent role at times—the military will draw the line on issues that impinge directly on national security. In practical terms, this means an outsized role for the military on issues related to Israel, Libya, Sudan, Iran, intelligence cooperation and U.S. relations. The bottom line for the military will be its insistence on a veto over any decision to deploy troops or declare war.

In addition to relative autonomy over its economic empire and national security, a second barometer of military attitudes will be the actual policies undertaken by the new Egyptian government. The military establishment has made clear it will not countenance a return to a state of war with Israel. The Egyptian-Israeli treaty and relationship, for all their problems and unpopularity on the Egyptian street, have been the cornerstones of Egypt’s strategic outlook for the past three decades, and this is not likely to change in the foreseeable future. The military will not balk at a cooling off of relations or a tougher Egyptian diplomatic stance toward Israel, especially on the Palestinian and nuclear issues. But the military will draw a deep line in the sand when it comes to possible unilateral moves to change or abrogate the treaty.

The third measure of the military’s attitude will be the nature of domestic legislation adopted by the parliament and supported by the executive. The Egyptian military always has been suspicious of the attitudes and activities of civil society, and the military has taken steps over the years to root out cells of Islamists as well as leftists in the media and trade unions yearning for a return to Nasser’s policies. This will become harder in the period ahead, but the military’s commitment to countering extremists is unlikely to flag. In this respect, the direction of national legislation, whether toward more Islamic piety or vis-à-vis economic and social policy, will be watched carefully by the military.

The final barometer will be the attitudes of Egypt’s partners and foes. The military’s relationship with the United States is particularly important, not only because of American assistance but also because of their collaboration on training, doctrine and arms sales. Since the 1970s, the Egyptian military has been in transition from Soviet arms, doctrine and training. This process is far from complete, and the military may be too committed to U.S. arms to change yet again. To be sure, arms from other suppliers have been and can continue to be assimilated into the inventory, but there is simply too much American equipment on hand for the military brass to consider a change in primary patrons.

Does this mean the United States can retain leverage over Egypt on the basis of the Egyptian military’s desire to maintain military relations? The answer is less than certain. A total, precipitous termination of U.S. assistance would be cataclysmic for both sides. Short of that, bilateral dialogue remains healthy, but as the NGO crisis in early 2012 demonstrated, intragovernment maneuvering in this period of transition can take precedence over preserving every aspect of the relationship with the United States. Thus, the United States will acquire some leverage as a result of continued economic and military assistance, but this leverage will have less current value than many in the United States would like to believe.

The most important determinant of Egypt’s postrevolution political identity will result from the relationship between the military and newly elected civilian leaders, particularly President Morsi. Aid money and foreign support may be helpful to address humanitarian issues and economic inequalities but will do little to stabilize or manage the political climate. Thus, the next steps in the transition, particularly drafting the new constitution, will present several opportunities for Morsi—like Nasser, Sadat and Mubarak before him—to try to outmaneuver the military and reestablish the dominance of the office of the president. This internal power struggle will ultimately be the most critical factor in shaping Egypt’s democratic path.

Daniel Kurtzer is the S. Daniel Abraham Professor in Middle Eastern Policy Studies at Princeton University’s Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs. He is a former U.S. ambassador to Egypt and Israel. Mary Svenstrup recently earned a master’s degree in public affairs from the Woodrow Wilson School.

Image: Amr Farouq Mohammed 

Image: Pullquote: All of Egypt’s past presidents—Naguib, Nasser, Sadat and Mubarak—were former military officers, and they relied on this military legacy to bolster their legitimacy.Essay Types: Essay