I understood President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi’s declaration that he would not amend the Egyptian Constitution as a clear response to those promoting the possibility of amending it to grant the president an additional term after 2030, in violation of the principle of the peaceful transfer of power enshrined in the Constitution. I consider this principle one of the most important political gains of Egypt’s January 25 Revolution in 2011.
I appreciate this statement and regard it as a political and constitutional commitment that deserves respect and affirmation. Yet my concern stems from previous experiences and from the peculiar genius of Egyptian colloquial Arabic, which sometimes expresses something through its very opposite. We might, for instance, describe a sick person who is suffering as being “in good health” (be-‘afeya)!
I am confident that the president means what he says. However, I fear that some among those surrounding the centers of power might interpret his statement according to the logic of this colloquial expression, imagining that denying any intention to amend the Constitution could actually be a prelude to amending it. Our duty, therefore, is not to question the statement, but to affirm our respect for it, build upon it, and translate its meaning into political and institutional practice that dispels doubts and opens the doors to the future.
Respecting the Constitution does not simply mean refraining from amending it. It also means implementing the provisions it contains that have yet to be fully realized in practice. I therefore believe that the media, Parliament, and political institutions have a duty to initiate a serious dialogue about constitutional obligations that remain to be fulfilled. These include the modern civil state, the separation of powers, decentralization and local governance, free and fair elections, judicial independence, and meeting constitutional spending requirements for health and education.
The Constitution is not a text whose mere existence we celebrate. It is a contract between the state and its citizens, and its true value lies in its implementation.
A State Cannot Be Governed by Waiting
Medicine has taught me that a wise surgeon does not enter a complex operating theater without an assistant who understands the details of the case and can continue working should an emergency arise. This does not imply any doubt about the surgeon’s abilities; it reflects respect for the patient’s life.
Every serious institution establishes a leadership succession plan at the height of its stability, not when it begins to falter. How much more important, then, is such planning for a country of Egypt’s size, history, and challenges?
I believe that one positive step capable of translating confidence in the future into action would be the appointment of a vice president—or perhaps two—under the provisions permitted by the Constitution.
I make this suggestion in light of a political reality that cannot be ignored.
We have not yet succeeded in building an institutionalized political life capable of producing multiple national leaders who are known to the public, tested in public service, and able to compete for the presidency within a normal democratic framework.
I do not want this absence of leadership alternatives to become a permanent destiny, nor do I want the appointment of a vice president to become a substitute for political reform. Rather, I see it as a step that should proceed alongside such reform.
What Does the Constitution Say?
The 2019 constitutional amendments introduced Article 150 bis, which authorizes the president to appoint one or more vice presidents, determine their responsibilities, delegate some of his powers to them, dismiss them, or accept their resignations.
Article 160 regulates situations in which the president is temporarily unable to exercise his powers. In such cases, the vice president assumes the role, or the prime minister does so if there is no vice president or if the latter cannot take over.
If the office of president becomes permanently vacant due to death, resignation, or permanent incapacity, the Constitution provides for a temporary transfer of authority to the Speaker of the House of Representatives or, under specified circumstances, the president of the Supreme Constitutional Court. This arrangement serves as a bridge until a new president is elected within the constitutionally prescribed timeframe.
This is a fundamental distinction: under Egypt’s system, the vice president is not automatically the heir to the presidency. Rather, the position offers an opportunity to prepare and test a political figure who, like any other eligible candidate, may subsequently run for president in accordance with the Constitution.
The Constitution has opened the door and left the timing to the wisdom of the decision-maker. A provision that is written but never activated remains a possibility suspended in limbo.
Egyptian History and the Lessons of Political Transition
When Gamal Abdel Nasser died unexpectedly in 1970, Anwar Sadat was his vice president. Power was transferred through established constitutional arrangements, and the country avoided a vacuum at the highest level of the state.
When Sadat was assassinated in 1981, his vice president, Hosni Mubarak, succeeded him, and the institutional transfer of power was repeated at an extremely dangerous moment.
This does not mean that either period was free of conflict, or that the mere existence of a vice president was solely responsible for preserving stability. However, the position played an important role in clarifying the path of succession.
By contrast, after the office of vice president remained vacant for nearly three decades, Major General Omar Suleiman was appointed to the position on January 29, 2011, at the height of the crisis. The decision came too late.
The American Experience: A Vice President Is Not an Imposed Successor
Years earlier, I had called for the appointment of a vice president and discussed the matter directly with President Mubarak himself after the 2005 elections, when I was part of a circle close to him during that period.
He told me that he did not like imposing a name on society and preferred to leave the matter to free elections.
On the surface, this justification seemed reasonable. Yet it raised a question that has stayed with me ever since: Does appointing a vice president really mean imposing the next president on society? Or does it give society an opportunity to become acquainted with a political figure and assess their abilities, while retaining the freedom to elect or reject them?
When I examined the American experience, I found that history offered a different answer. Fifteen American vice presidents have gone on to become president, some through election and others through constitutional succession following a president’s death or resignation.
In modern history, George H. W. Bush, Ronald Reagan’s vice president, was elected president in 1988. Joe Biden, Barack Obama’s vice president, was elected president in 2020, four years after leaving the vice presidency. Before them, Richard Nixon, Dwight Eisenhower’s vice president, was elected president in 1968 despite losing the presidential election in 1960.
Following John F. Kennedy’s assassination in 1963, his vice president, Lyndon B. Johnson, assumed the presidency constitutionally and was subsequently elected president in his own right in 1964.
Other vice presidents, however, have run for president and lost, including Al Gore in 2000 and Kamala Harris in 2024.
Here lies the lesson I consider important for Egypt: the office of vice president provides governing experience and allows the public to become acquainted with a political figure and assess their capabilities. It does not, however, confer an automatic or guaranteed right to the presidency.
Of course, there is a constitutional difference between the two systems. The American vice president is elected alongside the president on a single electoral ticket, whereas the Egyptian vice president is appointed. Nevertheless, the underlying principle of preparing future leaders and giving them the opportunity to demonstrate their abilities remains worthy of consideration.
Appointing a vice president does not impose a future president on society. It prepares a figure who may stand for election, allowing the people to choose that person or someone else. Democracy does not mean preventing leaders from emerging out of fear that they might be imposed on the public. It means allowing them to emerge and compete while leaving the final choice to the people.
Why Do I Propose Two Vice Presidents Rather Than One?
I propose making use of the constitutional provision permitting the appointment of one or more vice presidents by appointing two individuals with different backgrounds: one with a civilian political background and the other with a military background.
This is not because a military background confers any special political entitlement, nor because a civilian background alone guarantees suitability. Rather, Egypt needs a diversity of experience within the presidency and leaders capable of understanding the state’s political, security, economic, and social dimensions.
Each vice president should have clearly defined areas of responsibility, specific duties, and publicly disclosed responsibilities against which the president, society, and the media can assess their performance.
The position would therefore be neither ceremonial nor merely an emergency arrangement. It would become a genuine opportunity to assume responsibility, learn, and be held accountable.
Either or both vice presidents might become candidates in the next election, or the people might choose someone else. Preparing alternatives does not mean imposing them, and providing an opportunity does not guarantee an outcome.
A President Who Does Not Seek Another Term
If the president’s declaration that he will not tamper with the Constitution means that he is committed to not seeking an amendment that would allow him to serve an additional presidential term, then we are facing an important political opportunity.
A president who does not seek another term becomes better positioned to open the door to political pluralism and allow new leaders to emerge without such developments being interpreted as a personal threat to his position. Indeed, this could become a significant part of his political legacy.
The true strength of institutions is demonstrated not only by their ability to support the incumbent leader, but also by their ability to continue functioning after his departure. Institutions that operate only in the presence of a particular individual remain incomplete institutions, regardless of their achievements.
Stability Does Not Mean Freezing Politics
I recognize the scale of the domestic and external challenges facing Egypt. I also understand the concerns of those who fear that an unregulated political opening could lead to unrest that the country cannot afford.
Yet we must also acknowledge that challenges will never disappear entirely. Waiting for them all to vanish before opening the political sphere could mean postponing reform indefinitely.
Delay may sometimes stem from fear of chaos. At other times, it may result from the interests of those who benefit from maintaining the status quo, or from the limited political imagination of some individuals surrounding decision-making centers.
A modern state is not built on a perpetual fear of alternatives. It is built by establishing institutions that make alternatives a natural part of public life.
The Armed Forces, given their standing and their constitutional role in protecting the country and safeguarding the Constitution, democracy, and the civil nature of the state under Article 200, constitute one of the pillars protecting the state. They are not a substitute for elected civilian institutions.
The more resilient Egypt is an Egypt governed by institutions, laws, and established rules—not one whose stability depends on the presence of a single individual, regardless of that person’s role or stature.
Waiting Is Not Neutrality
Some may believe that postponing the appointment of a vice president or delaying the opening of the political sphere is a neutral position. But waiting is itself a decision, and it comes at a cost.
Crises do not ask permission before they arrive. Decisions made under pressure are invariably interpreted as reactions to that pressure, however good the intentions behind them may be.
I have experienced some of these moments from within the system and witnessed how a decision delayed for years can lose much of its value when it finally comes after the right moment has passed.
I am not writing today to revisit the past, but to ensure that we do not have to revisit it again.
In our recent history, we have experienced transfers of power following a sudden death, an assassination, a revolution, and the military’s intervention during periods of political turmoil.
We must not return to square one every time, as though we have learned nothing.
Where Do We Go From Here?
Society’s disengagement from politics is not an inevitable destiny. It is a symptom of a deeper problem: a lack of trust, accumulated disappointments, and a breakdown in dialogue.
When people turn away from politics, we should not blame them. We should ask ourselves: What has made politics so alienating?
Reviving the political spirit requires more than simply opening polling stations. It requires breathing life into genuine political parties that are not controlled from outside, empowering young people and women to participate meaningfully, restoring the value of political engagement in the streets, local councils, and Parliament, and opening the doors to freedom of expression and a free media.
I believe reform begins at the grassroots level, but it also requires a courageous decision from the highest level of the political hierarchy—one that removes obstacles and opens doors.
I see the president’s declaration that he will not tamper with the Constitution as an opportunity to renew trust between the state and society, provided it is followed by concrete steps demonstrating that the future remains open and that the peaceful transfer of power is not merely a constitutional provision, but a culture, a practice, and an institutional commitment.
Egypt deserves better than to repeat the same experiences in the same way and then expect different results.
I remain optimistic that we can find a way out of our predicament. I continue to trust the historical sensibility of the Egyptian people and their ability to distinguish between those who seek power for themselves and those who seek to build a state that will endure beyond them all.
A strong Egypt at home is an influential Egypt abroad.
The greatest guarantee of national stability is not the permanence of a ruler, but the state’s ability to transition from one leader to another without losing its balance or its confidence in itself.
Egypt deserves nothing less.
