Political Islam has been a main component of two Egyptian revolutions: the Free Officers Movement of 1952 and the uprising of January 2012. In both cases, the Muslim Brotherhood, a group formed in Ismailia in 1928, was a major participant. Now, with Mohamed Mursi in power as Egypt's new president, the Muslim Brotherhood has cause to celebrate. But why did it take so long for the group to find its way to legitimate power? And is it taking the country in the right direction? Looking back, it seems that history has come full circle. The Muslim Brotherhood fell out of grace in Gamal Abdel-Nasser's time, was partially rehabilitated under Anwar El-Sadat, and suffered ups and downs during the Mubarak era. Let's take some time to examine the Brotherhood's history, its many changes of fortune, and its uneasy relationship with power. Just before Egypt turned from a monarchy to a republic, the guardian of the last king was from the Muslim Brotherhood. The Muslim Brotherhood was so involved in the 1952 Revolution that its leaders knew the zero hour and instructed their rank and file to protect public buildings on the same night. The history of the Muslim Brotherhood and the Free Officers began well before the 1952 Revolution. The two worked hand in hand during the Palestine war in 1948 and the Suez Canal resistance in 1951. After the 1952 Revolution, the new regime chose the Brotherhood's top ideologue, Sayed Qotb, to serve as secretary of the Liberation Organisation (the organisation that launched Egypt into decades of one-party rule). Qotb was admired by the Free Officers for his thoughts about Islam and its role in society. His Social Justice in Islam, The Battle of Islam and Capitalism and World Peace and Islam were seen as must-read books. Before he turned more radical in Signs on the Road, Qotb was often asked to deliver radio speeches about Islam and the revolution. Egypt's first president, Mohamed Naguib, was known to be sympathetic to the Muslim Brotherhood. The latter's ordeal began with Nasser's rise to power in 1954. The attempted assassination of Nasser in Mansheya in 1954 was blamed on the Brotherhood and practically sealed its fate. From then on, members of the Muslim Brotherhood were routinely arrested and detained, and often tortured in prison. Until Nasser's death in 1970, the regime had no use for Islam as a revolutionary force, preferring instead to use it for propaganda. Islam was used to impart approval on anything the regime did, from the nationalisation of the Suez Canal in 1956, to unity with Syria in 1958-1961, to the socialist laws of 1962. Islamic rhetoric was invoked in 1967 as a way of reviving the national spirit. And Islam was used again to support the 1979 peace deal with Israel. Sadat released Islamists from prison because he wanted to use them as a counterforce against Nasserists and the Egyptian left. He relied on their support when he launched the "open door policy" in 1974, and again when he issued the investment law in 1975. Sadat's image of Egypt was that it was a society of "knowledge and faith". He cast himself as the father of the nation sometimes, and as a just caliph at other times. He had Islamist scholars appear on television often, hoping that the air of piety they projected would camouflage the corruption and tyranny of his rule, distract from his subservience to America and Israel, and justify his hostility to Iran. When the 1977 uprising broke out, and posters of Nasser were pasted on walls all over the country, Sadat thought of leaving the country and taking refuge with his friend the Shah of Iran. Then the army saved him, deploying to quell the rebellion and restore order. When Sadat signed the Camp David Accords in 1978 and the peace treaty with Israel in 1979, the Muslim Brotherhood didn't turn against him. Their relations didn't deteriorate until Sadat rounded up hundreds of opposition members in 1981. Weeks later, another Islamist group, Jihad, shot him dead. Under Mubarak, Islamists who renounced violence were allowed to walk out of prison, with some help from the security services. But Mubarak made a point of stigmatising Islamists. His main ploy was to scare the West into believing that his despotic and corrupt regime was the only bulwark left against the Islamists. With the January 2011 Revolution, things changed. The Brotherhood turned from a banned group to a legitimate party. At least for a while, Islam and the revolution seemed to go hand in hand. Then disputes began to break out. The Brotherhood's insatiable hunger for power, which was evident in parliamentary and presidential elections, as well as in the formation of the Constituent Assembly, alienated a major segment of the public. As a significant number of voters cast their ballots for Ahmed Shafik, the candidate of the old regime, it was clear that their aim was to keep the Muslim Brotherhood out of power. Others, meanwhile, voted for Mohamed Mursi just to keep the old regime from coming back. Others still declined to vote or invalidated their ballots, unable to endorse what they perceived as two brands of despotism: military and religious. The new president, Mursi, says that he wants to be president of all Egyptians and is posing as a defender of the revolution. There is almost a sense of déj� vu, a throwback to 1952. Will it work out this time? The revolutionary legacy of 1952 is far from over in this country. People still see the impact of Nasserist policies all around: in public housing, rent control, industry, agricultural reform, the High Dam, supermarket cooperatives, health, education, and foreign policy. Meanwhile, the Islamist legacy is also part of the nation's psyche. It is not beyond the realm of reason to think that Islam and the revolution could be reconciled once more. Islam without revolution can seem stilted and lacking in purpose. And revolution -- at least in its Nasserist interpretation -- without Islam can seem irrelevant. Perhaps there is a third road, one that evokes a revolutionary Islam, or let's say a leftist Islam. It is possible that Islam could bridge the dichotomy between the religious and civil state. It is possible that it can bridge the gap between the Salafis and the seculars or between the liberals and the Islamists. Islam doesn't have to be the opposite of liberalism, and vice versa. If we reconcile the two, the entire Arab world will have a new lease of life. We will be able to revive the spirit of the 1950s and 1960s, when Islam was a major vehicle for nationalism, and when it was a main component of national liberation movement in countries such as Morocco, Algeria, Yemen, Egypt, Libya and Tunisia. Perhaps it is time for the conservatism of current Islamist culture to give way. Perhaps Islam could use an injection of socialist and nationalist views. Perhaps also the liberals could abandon their ivory towers and connect with the masses. Can the new president tap this dual energy? Can he restore the Egyptian revolution to its yesteryear days, when Free Officers, Marxists and Islamists all had a common cause? Can President Mursi make Egypt breathe once again with two lungs, look with two eyes, and walk on two legs: Islam and the revolution?
