Aug 12, 2013

Tawakul Karman is a brave press-freedom advocate and a worthy Nobel Peace Prize winner. She was a powerful voice in the Yemeni people’s struggle against President Ali Abdullah Saleh’s 34-year autocracy and remains an important figure in Yemen’s march toward democracy. However, Karman’s recent comparison of deposed Egyptian leader Mohammed Morsi to Nelson Mandela, one of the most influential and inspirational figures of the latter half of the 20th century and whose name is synonymous with courage, struggle and wisdom, is astoundingly wrongheaded. Mandela remains a global moral authority. Morsi is not worthy of such praise — not even close. If the defining feature of Mandela’s presidency was the unification of his people, the defining feature of Morsi’s one-year presidency was the intensifying and perilous polarization of the Egyptian people.

This is not a personal attack on Karman (though there is, regrettably, a deluge of unproductive and troubling ad hominem bullying on social media), but a disagreement about a bold and false assertion. Karman is certainly free to defend the former president and criticize the wisdom of the military’s decision to oust him and express serious concerns about the current trajectory of democracy in Egypt. And there is indeed, most certainly, ample cause for concern.

However, equating Morsi with Mandela is myopic, cynical and betrays a deep misunderstanding of Morsi’s brief presidency and Mandela’s long struggle for freedom. Mandela is everything Morsi is not. Following a career as an anti-apartheid revolutionary and almost three decades of imprisonment before his election, then-President Mandela moved swiftly to heal the deep rifts that plagued South African society. He led a national unity government and oversaw the establishment of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that, despite criticism, succeeded in turning the focus of the country toward the future. Mandela was not perfect, but he proved particularly adept at taking the long view, at understanding the symbolism and impact of each of his actions, and he consistently strived to build bridges and create consensus without losing sight of his principles.

Morsi, on the other hand, is a member of a group that has at best a questionable commitment to and a skewed understanding of democracy, and that — following a razor-thin electoral margin — moved quickly and aggressively to consolidate power. Mandela was a visionary, while Morsi was a short-term tactician who refused to see the benefits of building and reinforcing coalitions. A telling and ironic example was his approach to security-sector reform. Morsi could have begun to reform the feared security apparatus had he at least maintained the electoral coalition that ushered him to power, and would likely have succeeded if he had broadened it. Today, that apparatus, which he heaped praise upon when he believed he could eventually bring it under his control, is being used against him and his supporters. Additionally, Mandela was — and remains — a popular national leader, earning the respect and admiration of even his one-time critics and affectionately referred to as “Tata,” meaning “father.”

While Morsi still maintains a bloc of support, prior to his ouster this support base was shrinking as a result of his bullheaded approach to leadership and his insistence on maintaining an inept cabinet that even spokesmen in his own party rejected. In fact, by the end of his first year in office, his list of critics included the Nour Salafist Party, the media, the judiciary, civil-society activists, the police, the military, the leaderships of Al-Azhar and the Christian church and very likely a majority of the population. Essentially, Morsi’s very legitimacy was rapidly deteriorating.