In his book My Conversations with Sadat, prominent Egyptian journalist Ahmed Bahaa El-Din recounted an amusing exchange from a lengthy conversation he once had with President Anwar Sadat.
It was shortly after Egypt's victory in the October 1973 War. The country was moving toward a market economy, abandoning the public-sector model that had dominated its economic policies. Cairo was preparing to recover through peace the remaining territory of the Sinai Peninsula, having already regained part of it through war. The state was also preparing to embark on a different political course that would allow parties with competing political visions to operate.
All these developments prompted Bahaa El-Din, as he sat with the president at the presidential retreat in Al-Qanater Al-Khayriya, north of Cairo, to consider whether such sweeping political and economic changes required a new constitution. Surely, he thought, these policies needed a constitutional foundation to establish and consolidate them, rather than remain a collection of disconnected measures with no unifying framework.
He therefore asked Sadat whether he believed Egypt needed a new constitution and whether the idea was occupying his thoughts or weighing on his mind.
Sadat looked at him with an expression of surprise before replying, "What constitution, Ahmed? Nasser and I are the last of the pharaohs. We don't need a constitution to rule."
He paused briefly, then continued, to Bahaa El-Din's astonishment: "The presidents who come after me will be ordinary men. They'll need a constitution to govern, or simply to get things done," as he put it.
The journalist was so taken aback that he could scarcely think of anything to say in response.
Sadat's words had convinced him that the constitution was of little concern to the president. Even if Sadat yielded to those demanding a new charter and agreed to draft one, he would hardly consider himself bound by its provisions. He would govern as Nasser had governed before him, and as the pharaohs had done before them, with no need for written constitutional rules to consult or invoke before the public.
Of course, Sadat returned to the constitution in 1980 and amended some of its provisions, particularly the article governing the length of his presidential tenure. He removed the limit, effectively allowing himself to remain in office indefinitely.
But God willed that he would never benefit from the change. He departed this world on a day of celebration, among his soldiers, while his successor, President Hosni Mubarak, would be the one to benefit, remaining in power for 30 years.
Thus, when Sadat contemplated extending his time in office, he found he had no choice but to return to the constitution and rewrite some of its provisions. The irony was that time was not on his side. Little did he know that he was clearing the way not for himself, but for the man who would succeed him.
This is a long story, with many details worth telling, but there is no need to pursue it further here. It is not, after all, the point of these lines. It has merely served as an introduction, perhaps a longer one than necessary.
The point is that US President Donald Trump, in the run-up to the congressional midterm elections, behaved, along with his administration, in much the same spirit as Sadat when he spoke to Bahaa El-Din.
From what we have read, Trump sensed the danger posed by the congressional elections well in advance. He began taking precautions and whatever preemptive measures he could to withstand a possible Democratic majority in both the House of Representatives and the Senate.
He had done everything within his political and popular reach before the elections to help his Republican Party retain control of both chambers. Yet he was far from certain how the contest would end.
What Trump and his administration wanted was to govern during his remaining two years in the White House much as they had during the previous two, or at least as closely as circumstances would allow.
We read his remarks suggesting that if the elections produced Democratic majorities, and those majorities were genuine rather than the result of Democratic electoral manipulation, he would have no choice but to recognize them.
At the same time, however, he intended to govern through what he called the president's "executive powers." In other words, he would leave the Democratic majorities behind him and exercise whatever authority his administration could extract from the loopholes available to it.
These are extraordinary words, unlike anything previously heard from a president in his position. But Trump has grown accustomed, since returning to the White House, to governing as he sees fit, with little regard for the constraints imposed by established institutions. He therefore imagines that he can continue down the same path even if his party loses its congressional majorities.
His thinking on this point bears a striking resemblance to Sadat's response to Bahaa El-Din.
Reality, however, has rules of its own. Otherwise, Sadat would never have returned to the constitution when he contemplated extending his presidency, having previously dismissed its importance so casually.
Now that Republicans have lost their majorities in both chambers of Congress, we shall see how far those executive powers can carry President Trump.
Words are one thing; reality is another. Between them lies a distance invariably determined by the demands of necessity and the constraints of circumstance.
