Many earnest hopes were attached to the 2014 Constitution that was intended to amend the predominantly Muslim Brotherhood-drafted constitution of 2012. The ill-fated 2012 Constitution aimed to constrain the entire Egyptian society in a straight jacket of Islamic philosophy and teachings. The Brotherhood's unilateral approach resulted in an unprecedented polarisation of Egyptian society, which had become bitterly consumed by hatred and discrimination. High hopes, notably those of women, were quickly dampened when the 50-member 2013 Constitutional Committee, appointed by President Adli Mansour, did not appear to be much different from the previous Muslim Brotherhood-dominated committee in terms of women's participation. The percentage of women rose a meager three per cent percent, allocating 10 per cent to women and youth, up from seven per cent in the Islamist committee. This proved to be a bad omen. The committee also failed to amend the constitution so as to grant a gender quota for the national parliament. Although women strongly protested, their demonstrations were supported by very few men, weakening their cause. Women's demands lacked the leverage and community support necessary for their realisation. One should not, therefore, make the mistake of judging the newly amended constitution in light of women's expectations, which were relatively large after women played an active role in the 25 January and 30 June uprisings. Pressured to follow the transitional roadmap's timetable and mandated to amend rather than to revamp the 2012 Constitution, the 50-member committee did not give way to enough imagination to capture the true objectives of revolutionary Egypt. At the same time, however, one should not overlook some noteworthy aspects of the new draft, which have the potential to promote women's rights. Unfortunately, they are combined with other articles and language that undermines this apparent progress due to pressure from ultra-conservative committee members. The draft constitution included more than 20 articles on women. For example, Article 180 allocates 25 per cent of seats to women in local councils, which is considered a good step towards women's political participation at the grassroots level. Another important step was taken in Article 93, which stipulates that, “The state shall be committed to the International Conventions, Covenants and Charters on human rights ratified by Egypt, which shall become law after publication, in accordance with the promulgation process.” In other words, committing the state to these international agreements should be considered on par with committing the state to obeying the principles of Islamic law, presupposing that there is no conflict between them. What is also of essence is that Al-Azhar clergy will no longer be entitled to interpret the principles of the Islamic law, as stipulated by the 2012 Constitution. Only the Supreme Constitutional Court will have this right. Nevertheless, the 2014 Constitution fell short of its true aspirations owing to the fact that the committee's members and its chairman had to win the support of the Salafist Al-Nour Party. To please Al-Nour Party, the committee: 1) did away with a parliamentary quota for women; 2) specified a “civilian government” in response to the Salafist representative's categorical rejection of any reference to a “civil state” — a term favoured by the liberals and Christians; and 3) restricted freedom of religious practice to those who follow the three Abrahamic faiths. There is no guarantee, however, that these concessions will secure the support of the Salafists, as extreme rightwing Salafists have already distanced themselves from Al-l-Nour Party. Since President Anwar Al-Sadat introduced the phrase “principles of Sharia as the main source of legislation” in the 1971 Constitution, the rights and equality of women in society have been dependent on the interpretation of the principles of Sharia, whether by the judiciary or Al-Azhar clergy, and the whim of the executive branch. In light of this dynamic, it is imperative to study the 2014 Constitution with more than a pinch of salt. I remain sceptical of the actual impact of the new constitution on women, as the apparent gains will ultimately depend on the implementation and enactment of relevant laws that could reinforce or negate the apparent rights in this constitution. The absence of a women's parliamentary quota in the newly amended constitution is a step backwards from what women achieved in 1971 Constitution and endorsed by the 2005 amendments to that constitution, ensuring women 14 per cent, or 64 seats, in the 454 member People's Assembly. This 14 per cent could easily have been expanded to 15 per cent, since the president was entitled to appoint 10 additional members to the People's Assembly (in the 2014 Constitution, the president is only entitled to appoint five additional members). Of the many articles that specifically impact women, articles 11 and 53 are among the more significant, and provide a major example of where the 2014 Constitution fails to live up to its promise. Article 11 deals with “the place of women, motherhood and childhood”. It is a wordy article, which, in the end, dilutes its own objective. Drafted with the intention of giving prominence to the place of women in society by committing the state to achieving equality between women and men in all realms — civil, political, economic, social and cultural — it also includes the caveat that this should be done in accordance with other provisions in the constitution, including the principles of Sharia. Furthermore, it is far from clear what the state's specific duties and tasks will be in order to achieve such a comprehensive type of equality between women and men. The article also obliges the state to ensure the “appropriate” representation of women in parliament. Although Salafists disagreed with the article because it purportedly opens the door to a women's quota, it falls short of indicating the manner in which this “appropriate” representation in parliament should be implemented in the absence of a quota. In this context, the use of the term “appropriate” reminds us of the too often used tool of “constructive ambiguity,” which makes the operationalisation of the article hard to conceive. The article also commits the state to appointing women in judicial bodies and promoting women in other high-level positions. Due to the volatile situation in which Egypt finds itself today, however, for women to integrate effectively they need the focused support either of a quota or another positive action in order to gain equal representation. Once the situation is normalised, this extra support will no longer be necessary. Had the 50-member committee included a way for a quota to be implemented in practical terms, Article 11 would have entirely fulfilled its purpose. Unfortunately, the drafters deemed it necessary to add to this vital article issues unrelated to equality between women and men and the promotion of women in the labour market. The issues of motherhood and childhood, which could have easily formulated a standalone article, were attached to Article 11. They undermine “absolute” equality in order to appease the Islamists who still believe that women's rightful place is at home, and their central role is as mothers. Article 11 indicates the “relativity” of equality, which is now linked in the 2014 Constitution directly to women's status as mothers and to the rights of their children, thus deviating from the message of equality in all realms, including for women who choose not to be mothers, between the sexes. In addition, Article 53 addresses “equality in public rights and duties,” but will be read, as mentioned, in conjunction with Article 11. While Article 11 guarantees women the right to hold the highest public offices without discrimination, Article 53 stipulates that all citizens are equal before the law. Thus, prohibiting discrimination on the basis of religion, belief, sex, origin, race, colour, language, disability, social class, political or geographical affiliation, or for any other reason. Such a provision was omitted altogether from the previous 2012 Constitution. While this represents an achievement on paper with regards to women's rights, the actual impact will be far from a total ban on discrimination against them. The tendency to lump unrelated issues together in order to dilute rights afforded to women is seen once again in Article 53. Addressing discrimination and incitement to hatred evokes the current polarisation of the Egyptian society between Islamists and non-Islamists. The drafters should have devoted an independent article to this dilemma, as it is undeniably the predominant challenge facing Egypt today and for years to come. The article's strong language stipulating that the government shall take all necessary measures to eliminate discrimination is clearly directed towards dealing with this polarisation at the expense of other forms of discrimination. Although articles 11 and 53 have granted women equal rights and attempted to ban discrimination, these positive aspects have been diluted by the inclusion of other issues. The effectiveness of these two articles is therefore open to debate. Finally, when the 2014 Constitution says “citizens are equal before the law,” it does not specifically protect women from violence and underage marriage, or guarantee their right of inheritance. Will the new constitution and the ensuing new laws protect women from these often culturally acceptable offences? Another question that must be asked is how do articles 11 and 53 relate to the principles of Islamic jurisprudence? And what government entity shall bear the responsibility of implementing those rights, if they were in fact valorised by an interpretation of Sharia law? In other articles where women are expected to benefit, again we encounter language in which the state commits itself to women's rights but falls short of indicating the type of commitments, the specific standards, or the mechanisms it is going to use to implement those commitments. How can we overcome these obstacles to enforcing women's rights in Egypt? Since Egyptian women lack the social solidarity to support and advance their demands, a clever way to proceed would be to form their own caucuses and lobbying groups within political parties, and to condition their votes on the extent to which these parties integrate their demands within their policy platforms. The writer is director of the Prince Alwaleed Centre for American Studies and Research at the AUC.
