PHILIPPS-UNIVERSITÄT MARBURG
The emergence of parliamentarism in Egypt,
1866-1882
Explaining the evolution of assembly confidence within an autocratic context
First draft – please do not quote – comments welcome
Dr. des. Irene Weipert-Fenner
Research Network „Re-Configurations. History, Remembrance and Transformation
Processes in the Middle East and North Africa”, Philipps-University Marburg, Germany
Email: [email protected]
ECPR Joint Sessions, Salamanca, April 10-15 2014
It is widely acknowledged that “the institutional underpinning of parliamentary democracy is
the government’s dependence on majority support in the legislature” (Huber 1996:269). This
is usually associated with varying sets of certain formalized institutional rights and procedures
in a democratic state. One distinction can be made between positive and negative
parliamentarism, differentiating between active support for the government and the nonopposition of the parliament against the executive.
In this paper, I aim to expand the analysis of the parliamentary principle in two ways. First, I
try to conceptualize it in an autocratic context, arguing that, in authoritarian regimes, the
parliament can also become powerful to such an extent that the executive then needs the
confidence of the legislature, at least in terms of non-opposition. Formal rules which regulate
the expression of (non-)confidence may or may not exist, but in an autocratic context
assembly confidence relies on the informal power structure in which it is embedded. Election
(or selection) procedures lead to a composition of delegates of which the majority is somehow
relevant to the ruling elite because of different types of Bourdieusian capital. Therefore, the
argumentation builds on a constitutive explanation of the parliament that tries to understand
the institution from the major social relations it is composed of and not from its structural
features.
Second, the paper explores the emergence of parliamentarism within an autocratic context as
a post-formative development of a representative institution. Using the example of Egypt
between 1866 and 1882, the paper shows how parliamentary confidence developed as an idea
and in practice. I apply historical institutionalism from a constructivist perspective that
regards actor-institution-relations as dialectic, meaning that actors apply and thereby interpret
and develop institutional norms and rules, but also adapt their actions according to these rules.
This concept opens the way for an analysis of the incremental institutional changes of Egypt’s
first parliament: From the introduction as a powerless representative body in 1866 to an
increasingly powerful institution with budget and legislative rights. Although demands for the
introduction of assembly confidence did not make it into the constitution, the actual
withdrawal of confidence from the government happened twice and led to a severe crisis
which the respective ruling elite (in cooperation with European powers) was only able to
crush by dissolving the parliament, and at the end, by military force that led to the British
occupation of Egypt in 1882.
1
The concept in a nutshell: the parliament in the autocratic regime
Why do the legislature and parliamentarians matter in a political regime in which power is
concentrated within the ruling elite? Why would an autocratic ruler need the assembly’s
confidence? The short answer is that the parliament matters because it is embedded in the
power relations of the autocratic regime. These integrated actors are relevant to the core elite,
i.e. the head of the state and its closest allies, and thus belong to the circles of the ruling elite.
This is the logic of parliamentary representation in autocratic regimes. Formally, the
autocratic parliament is an intermediary between the delegates’ constituents and the
executive. This mediation, as it is widely acknowledged, is grounded in the fact that the
parliamentary seat is a particular way for the core elite to bind influential actors to the regime,
since they themselves become part of the broader ruling elite. These influential actors may
belong to or represent a politically relevant group. These groups can be businessmen,
members of the military, state employees, or influential families and clans. In all cases, they
grant their loyalty to the core elite in exchange for services or specific policies which serve
either their personal interest or that of the group they represent. Even though patronage and
clientelistic networks in the parliament are often regarded as having a limited focus on
specific privileges, goods, and services, these interests can also be affected by political
decisions, which makes it likely that the delegates would try to influence these decisions. In
order to keep the groups and individuals tied to the regime, the distribution of goods, services,
and privileges, as well as general political decisions, needs to be balanced between the
integrated actors. The core elite has to take into account what the specific actors believe is
right or wrong or to live with their discontent that might end compliant or cooperative
behavior and could even turn into contestation.
This precarious balancing act between different interests and beliefs is difficult to achieve and
uphold as it requires constant re-negotiation due to contextual and actor developments.
Essentially, delegates’ actions are relevant because they are part of the negotiating process.
The parliament as an institution is relevant because it shapes and constrains these processes,
and the delegates can also develop it in various ways in regard to the public and other
institutions which affect power relations. The autocratic parliament is the center of a web of
relations, and when one string moves, the whole web quivers. The following diagram presents
this web: the dotted arrows symbolize that all the elements are interconnected, whereas the
five solid arrows are the relationships that constitute the autocratic parliament.
2
The model of the autocratic parliament
All single relationships should be regarded as dialectical. Accordingly, the parliament is not
only reactive to changes but also develops and thereby shapes these relations as well. Looking
at this from a snap-shot perspective, one can distinguish between different constellations in
regard to the public, other political institutions, and internally. For instance, the parliament
can act as an antagonist to the government, or the head of state, or cooperate with them.
Especially in times of public discontent or major reforms, the support of the delegates is
needed and a lack thereof can turn into a threat for regime stability.
Assembly confidence therefore does not (necessarily) rely on formal rules, but on the
different kinds of power the specific parliament has or develops. Four sources of power are of
particular importance: discursive power that channels public criticism into the political
system, different means of holding the government to account, the internal structure of the
parliament, and the fields in which the consultation, approval, or legislative participation of
the parliament is needed, including budget and tax matters.1
How assembly (non-)confidence is expressed relies much on the delegates. Building on
historical institutionalism from a constructivist perspective, I attribute agency to the delegates
who are constrained in their actions by the institution as well as those who shape it by making
1
For the concept on parliamentary power see Patzelt (2005: 255-302).
3
use of specific parts of the institutional power resources and develop them by widening their
scope of application or interpreting them anew. The speeches and actions of individuals and
groups can make a difference in the assembly. They can criticize or justify the governmental
policies, they can build alliances within the assembly or ministers, they can reach out to the
public via the media or direct cooperation with civil society actors, and they may use rights
and liberties parliamentary membership grants more frequently or creatively. All these
potential actions are open to use by members of the ruling elite as well as opposition
delegates. Furthermore, all of the delegates develop their behavior by learning from
experience.
How to explain the post-formative evolution of a parliamentary institution? A
critical review of the new institutionalisms
Rethinking the autocratic parliament as an institution, that can develop beyond the usually
limited role at its point of introduction, the different variants of the new institutionalism offer
different paths to go. The term “new institutionalism” was first used by March and Olsen in
1984. More than ten years later in another classic article, Peter Hall and Rosemary Taylor
(1996) accounted for three forms of the new institutionalism: rational-choice, sociological,
and historical institutionalism. Since then, attempts have been made to either stress the
common ground on which these approaches stand (Thelen 1999) or to combine them in
research designs (Bates et al 1998). Others tried to introduce a new subtype, the constructivist
approach
(Blyth
2002;
Hay
2004),
also
termed
discursive
institutionalism
(Campbell&Pedersen 2001; Schmidt 2010). A short overview will help to understand where
the differences lie and show the particular problematic of Historical Institutionalism, which
embraces two quite distinct approaches under one label.
All three approaches share the assumption that institutions influence human behavior, and
thus political outcomes. The crucial difference between the three forms of institutionalism lies
in their understandings of the nature of the human being, which affects their ideas about the
relation between institutions and individuals. Rational-choice approaches see the actors
behaving entirely instrumentally and strategically in order to maximize the attainment of their
preferences and goals. Yet, the realm of politics poses collective action dilemmas that
sometimes only bring about suboptimal results for individual preference-seeking. Created
through voluntary agreements by the relevant actors, institutions shape the individual’s
4
behavior to achieve better results for everyone involved. Rational-choice institutionalists,
hence, put the strategic interaction of actors at the forefront. The gains resulting from
institutions are then seen as the motivation to participate in institutional arrangements as well
as the explanation for the origin of institutions. Furthermore, it is the degree of fulfillment of
the intended function that explains the strength or weakness of an institution (Hall & Taylor
1996:942-946).
Institutions are thus defined as “the humanly devised constraints that shape human
interaction” (North 1990:4). For North, “[o]rganizations include political bodies” and “are
groups of individuals bound by some common purpose to achieve objectives” (North 1990:5).
Accordingly, rational-choice theorists conceptualize institutions as equilibria established by
the rational decision of individuals. Change is then only a shift from one equilibrium to
another, caused by exogenous shocks or crises.
The second approach, sociological institutionalism, was developed in the context of
organization theory. In reference to Weber, sociology had traditionally differentiated between
those organizational forms of modern society that were seen as efficient and rational, and
those seen as cultural. This separation, however, did not explain empirical evidence such as
the various forms of bureaucracies, and led to a reinterpretation of forms and procedures of
modern organizations as culturally-specific practices. Whereas older approaches had simply
added a normative impact of institutions to the other roles institutions were assumed to play,
the new approaches introduced a cognitive dimension to the impact the institution had on the
actors. By providing the actors with cognitive scripts and models, the institutions were
regarded as influencing the scope of action, and even the identity of the actors. The scripts or
templates that tend to be implicit in the institution help the actor in defining a situation and
offering ways to deal with it. That doesn’t exclude that actors might still be behaving
strategically for the attainment of their goals, as rational-choice institutionalists suggested.
Sociological institutionalism just raises the awareness that preferences, rationality, and other
concepts only exist in specific situations, and cannot be defined without taking the cultural
and social framing into account. The actor-institution relation, in addition, is turned
interactive in that scripts, as all social conventions, need to be reinforced by actors referring to
them and making use of them. The actors also contribute to defining shared cognitive maps
within the institutional frame by discussing problems, their interpretation and solution
(Hall&Taylor 1996:946-950). As within rational-choice institutionalism, the institutional
5
constraints on the agents – even though differently framed and explained – are relatively
strong, making it difficult to think of change in ways other than exogenous ruptures.
The third new institutionalism, historical institutionalism (HI), only got its name in the early
1990s, with the publication of “Structuring Politics: Historical Institutionalism in
Comparative Politics” (Steinmo & Thelen & Longstreth 1992). Marked by the fact that its
distinct research agenda was not spelled out from the beginning and that it is an approach
rather than a theoretical concept, one can initially find rational-choice as well as sociological
foundations for HI, as well as constructivist approaches since the 2000s. What was sketched
out as the common bond of these very different approaches is, first, the assumption that
history matters. Being aware of history means paying attention to the context, a context that
changes over time and influences the institution (Steinmo 2008:164-166). Two tendencies can
be found regarding the institution-actor relationship that I claim can be subsumed under the
labels of positivism and post-positivism. The first – positivist – puts the emphasis on the
constraints on the actors established by the institution and has a rather “sticky” understanding
of institutions (Bell 2011:883). It is oriented towards rational-choice concepts of institutions
that deal with history through the model of path dependency. Originally an economic model
on how even minor innovations can shape institutions without being the most effective or
rational solution, this model was introduced to the analysis of political processes. With it
came the terminology of “critical junctures” that implies the openness of development framed
in a quite mechanic argument: as soon as a certain path is chosen, the actors are locked-in and
must modify their strategies accordingly. As North argued, if institutions fulfill a function,
they thereby create an incentive structure and will have coordination effects, which will bring
actors to adopt their strategies in a way that simultaneously reflects and reinforces the logic of
the institutions (North 1990). In addition, there are distributional effects of institutions, which
are believed to create stability rather than change. Power is not distributed equally and
institutions not only reflect these asymmetries but also reinforce them. This, however,
presupposes that “the powerful” share a common identity and interests. This approach
continued with the works of, for example, Pierson (2000) and Mahoney (2000), who argue in
favor of the self-enforcement of institutions due to reduced costs and increasing returns,
making the economic legacy of rational-choice approaches visible.
As Thelen has pointed out, this model is problematic in the realm of politics as there is never
a complete openness to new solutions, but rather disagreements over goals. In addition, power
asymmetries prevail that give some actors more influence on institutions, which in turn reflect
6
the interests of the powerful which may strengthen the disparities in power. Finally, losers in
political conflicts usually don’t just disappear, leaving the new institution to those who
established it. Rather they will, even while adapting to the new situation, stick to their own
goals, trying to find ways to either wait for their chance to alter the rules of the game or
actively subvert the new order from inside or outside the institution (Thelen 1999:385).
In contrast, the other tendency that was first outlined by Thelen, Steinmo and Longstreth
(1992) entails post-positivist presumptions, even though they are not expressed explicitly. It
concentrates on the dialectical relation of institutions and actors and tries to be more aware of
the complexity of the relation between context, institution, and actors. This sensitivity is
supposed to entail a different understanding of change. Instead of focusing on only one
coordination result, these HI scholars try to be open to the various institutional arrangements
that can simultaneously make up a polity. These formations are not necessarily coherent or
functional and can be recombined and adapted to new contexts. Change within one of them
will affect others and possibly lead to conflicts, frictions, and unintended consequences
(Thelen 1999:382-383). Historical institutionalists give a special emphasis to power
asymmetries in institutions, distancing themselves from rational-choice theorists who tend to
see individuals as similar units rather than being aware of the specific features of each actor
constellation. On the other hand, this also distinguishes them from sociological
institutionalists who refer to social templates, models, and scripts and may thereby overlook
the role of individual and group behavior, which is interest-driven, potentially contentious,
but also creative. Behavior, hence, might strengthen or weaken, repeat or invent institutional
arrangements. This also entails an important role actors play in fighting over which norms and
scripts are seen as appropriate: this refers to an understanding of culture which doesn’t take
culture as one coherent set of rules and norms but rather a pool of them, including
contradictory norms and values, symbols, and beliefs. And it is the interpretation of the actors
and their negotiations as well as the fight over the “right” set of institutions that characterizes
politics (March&Olsen 1989; Katzenstein 1996). This also leads to a refined understanding of
why actors follow the scripts: it is not an automatic result of cultural adherence, but in
accordance to their beliefs about what is right or wrong, legitimate or illegitimate. The “logic
of appropriateness” (March & Olsen 1989:160-162) is also in touch with the actor’s “identity”
and his or her perception of “reality,” both concepts to be understood as a non-static social
constructions.
7
It was against this backdrop that constructivist approaches entered the debate in the early
2000s. Frustrated by the dominance of the first tendency within Historical Institutionalism,
with its concentration on the evolution of sticky institutions, constructivists missed the
explication of post-formative change. Historical Institutionalism thereby seemed to “account
for the path-dependent institutional change” and left aside “path-shaping institutional change”
(emphasis in original; Hay 2006:61). Their solution was to shift the focus to the actors, who
were described as strategic; their interests as well as actions to achieve their goals shaped by
ideas. These ideas influence the perception of the institution and thus the action there as well.
Instead of explaining institutions through the actors’ calculus or cultural factors, some
constructivist institutionalists explained everything through the analysis of the actors and their
ideas. Because of this, scholars like Schmidt and Blyth were accused of not combining the
ideational level with the institutional or the wider structural context and returning to the idea
of behavioralism that the new institutionalisms had tried to overcome (Bell 2011:887).
Against the constructivist purism, scholars such as Hay and Bell opted to include the
constructivist perspective into the second strand of Historical Institutionalism as part of the
analysis of the dialectical relation of actor and institution. It would not only enrich HI, leading
to a better understanding of actors, but would also bring constructivist approaches to take into
account how the institution shapes the actors’ actions and beliefs.
The task in general is to “unpack the institutional black box” (Bell 2011:892) and understand
how institutions not only constrain behavior, but also result from the behavior of strategic
actors (Bell 2011:892); how institutions set constraints on and at the same time empower
actors. Applying historical institutionalism from a constructivist perspective on the parliament
in an autocratic regime is a new approach to deal with the topic. The existing research has
focused until now on functionalist perspectives based on rational-choice based approaches.
The next section deals with a critique of the existing research and building on it, applies
historical institutionalism on the parliament in an autocratic regime on the conceptual level.
State of the art: parliamentary institutions in autocratic regimes
The euphoria of history coming to its end with the end of the Cold War didn’t last very long.
In the 2000s, the third wave had apparently left many autocracies intact, even after a partial
opening of their systems. Thus, the focus shifted again towards authoritarian regimes, in
particular to those with liberal elements, as an enduring research object. The challenge then
8
was to explain the longevity of these regimes. A focus was the question of typology: when is
an authoritarian regime still autocratic, or do we need a category of something in between?
Some suggested a third category between democracy and autocracy, called a “hybrid regime”
(Diamond 2002). Others interpreted them as diminished subtypes of democracies, such as
“delegative democracy” (O’Donnell 1994), “illiberal democracy” (Zakaria 1997) and
“defective democracy” (Merkel 1999). The debate then shifted from incomplete democracies
to incomplete autocracies, and adjectives were introduced to form categories such as
competitive authoritarianism (Levitsky and Way 2002), liberalized autocracies (Carothers
2002; Brumberg 2002) semi-authoritarianism (Ottaway 2003) and electoral authoritarianism
(Schedler 2006), different subtypes which were all autocratic in nature.
What these approaches had in common was that they took institutions seriously, and thus
followed the trend of the new institutionalisms, especially the rational-choice variant. A very
influential approach to using institutions to explain varying degrees of autocratic stability
came from Barbara Geddes (1999). She introduced a three-part classification that
differentiated between the type of rulers (single-party, military, personalist), and defined
different threats to regime stability for each of these types. Geddes concluded that single-party
regimes were the most stable, since they had institutions that offered the opposition chances
for participation and limited influence on political decisions, without giving up actual control.
Out of this point, a new debate about the role of these institutions arose. Working mainly with
quantitative methods, Geddes’ assumptions on the role of institutions were further elaborated
by Brownlee (2007) and Gandhi (2008). The overall message in these recent publications,
however, remains the same: namely that the main function of institutions is to create regime
stability, whether they be parties, parliaments, institutionalized elitist cliques, military juntas,
ad-hoc commissions, or committees. From this perspective, institutions are seen as giving
incentives to powerful groups for their cooperation with the regime. One sort of incentive, for
instance, is rent distribution. In the case of the parliament, these rents are not at first sight of a
financial nature, but they are privileges that might still pay-off money wise. These include
preferential access to state tenders, contact with decision-making incumbents and legal
immunity (Albrecht & Schlumberger 2004:383).
One approach to assessing the stabilizing effect of co-optation is to assume that the co-opted
may actually have an influence on the decision-making process itself. The regime may make
use of this potential advantage in different ways. One is that the core elite can better evaluate
the chances of an implementation of their policies. As decisions of the assembly have to be
9
supported by the majority, policy suggestions would have to be moderate, in turn leading to
improved decisions by the core elite (Wintrobe 2007:379). Another advantage for the regime
is brought up by Gandhi, who argues that the parliament is suitable as a place of negotiation
with the opposition. In parliament, the ruler can partially give in without showing weakness,
since the negotiating process is institutionalized and expresses normality – in contrast to
giving in after street protests (Gandhi 2008:xviii). Lust-Okar sees the advantage of institutions
in dividing the opposition by integrating the moderates, thereby separating them from the
radicals (Lust-Okar 2005). Whereas Gandhi sees the opposition as the main addressee of
power-sharing within legislatures, Magaloni sees real power-sharing only within the larger
ruling coalition, focusing primarily on the ruling party. Still, this tells us that members of a
greater decision-making coalition are included in the legislature (Magaloni 2008:719-723).
Finally, giving in to MPs’ demands improves the investment climate of the country, since the
arbitrary power of the dictator is tamed, giving more credibility to the dictator’s promise to
respect property rights. This potential increase in investments might have a positive effect on
the overall economic development, something else of the interest to the dictator: if there is
more money in the country, there is more for him to take (Wright 2008:325).
The other approach to assessing the positive impact of co-option via parliament concerns
overall regime legitimacy, which some authors claim is strengthened by simply having an
institution that imitates democratic structures and procedures. By creating a liberal institution
such as a pluralistic assembly with some freedom of speech, the regime stabilizes itself
(Arafat 2009:2, Schlumberger 2008:160). However, the legislature essentially remains a
rubber-stamp, providing the ratified laws with the illusion of democracy. A similar argument
is that a parliamentary assembly strengthens the overall stability because it offers the chance
for criticism of the government. The metaphor used is that of a safety valve, in which the
parliament lets off steam. The expression of criticism in the parliamentary debates helps calm
the public without changing actually anything (Brumberg 2005:4).
These rather static accounts of institutions were further developed from what I would call a
“static perspective on change.” For example, in order to explain formal institutional change in
constitutional texts or electoral procedures, some scholars modified their interpretation of
institutions in that they interpreted institutional change from a ruling elite’s calculus. For
Przeworski (1991:10-14), it is the insecurity about institutional arrangements combined with
the security about the outcome (the ruling elite’s will) that constitutes a core element of
autocratic regimes. This is in contrast to democracies, where institutional procedures remain
10
stable but the results (elections, legislative voting) can change. Albrecht and Frankenberger
(2010:53) call the phenomenon of institutional change “intensive chameleonism” and attribute
it to the urgent need for flexibility and the ability to adapt to changing circumstances. To
them, there seems to be a larger need for reform in autocracies due to the legitimacy deficit of
autocrats compared with democratic rulers. They assume that autocratic rulers avoid
formalized mechanisms, procedures and ideologies in order to remain flexible. They
recognize that a number of formal institutions exist, yet argue that they are controlled by
informal mechanisms to stop any autonomous action against the will of the ruler. Informal
mechanisms make sure that formal institutions can be changed at any time to accommodate
new situations. As a result, institutions are permanently “under construction.” The problem
with this approach is that it remains unclear which institutional function motivates the elite to
preserve the existing institutions. If institutions are intended to generate democratic
legitimacy, constant and arbitrary structural manipulations would reveal the autocratic nature
behind the democratic façade. If, on the other hand, institutions are supposed to bind powerful
actors to the regime by creating mid-term safety through clientelistic, patronage relations and
participation in decision-making, these constant and arbitrary modifications would destroy the
actor’s trust and willingness to cooperate, the very things that these institutions are supposed
to create.
In sum, the rational-choice perspective presupposes that institutions are based upon an
agreement by the relevant actors to solve a collective action dilemma. The twist when this is
applied to autocratic regimes is that the relevant actor in an authoritarian regime is always
identified with the ruling elite. In addition, it is assumed that the main interest of the ruling
elite is their own power maintenance and hence, the survival of the existing regime. This turns
out to be tautological: the argument that institutions exist for the sake of prolonging the
regime persistence is built upon the observation that autocratic regimes persist.
The parliament in an autocratic regime reconsidered: applying historical institutionalism
from a constructivist perspective
As has become clear, the take until now on legislatures in autocratic states has been mainly a
functional one and does not entail any kind of assembly confidence. This necessitates that the
institution is either constant and not undergoing changes or being constantly changed as the
ruler wishes. Whereas the static view on the parliament cannot explain institutional change,
11
the argument of arbitrary institutional manipulation runs contrary to the considerations about
incentive structures provided by institutions. Power-sharing and rent distribution are sensitive
instruments that can create support for the ruler, but changes in these that are seen as arbitrary
or unfair may provoke contention, if not the defection, of these actors. The only possible
purpose of institutions in this concept would be that the enhancement of legitimacy was
somehow created by a nominally democratic institution, even though it is doubtful that
anyone believes in the so-called democratic façade due to the constant manipulation of the
institutional settings.
Taking it seriously that the parliament serves the purpose of binding relevant actors to the
regime, this relevance creates a certain dependence of the ruling elite. From here, one needs to
rethink assembly confidence and its development within an autocratic context. This entails to
to find new explanations for continuity and change beyond an assumed elite’s rationale and
the stabilizing function of the autocratic parliament. Applying the conceptually convincing
historical institutionalism from a constructivist perspective means systematically spelling out
what the theoretical concept abstractly states. One needs a term that captures the potential for
struggle over norms and scripts, power asymmetries, the interest-driven, potentially
contentious role of individual and group behavior as well as the dialectic relation of actors
and institutions. I argue that agency, as understood in Giddens’ term of “the capacity to make
a difference” (1984:14) is helpful, since one can then define what these capacities may be.
This is especially useful for the differentiation from functionalist approaches, which limit
agency to the ruling elite. In contrast, I extend agency to the autocratic parliament and all
individuals integrated within the legislature, whom I refer to as “actors.” Of course, both the
institution and its actors are intertwined in the dialectic relation that historical institutionalism
captures. Yet, analytically, we can distinguish between the capacities of the parliament to
make a difference and the actors’ actions. From this, one can derive a number of institutional
“roles” the parliament plays that, in contrast to functions, can be various – even simultaneous
- and are not necessarily linked to the stability question.
These roles can be analyzed on two levels. First, there are different possible – formal and
informal - constellations for the agency of the autocratic parliament in regard to the lines of
conflict between parliament, government and the head of state. In the case of colonial
countries, we also have to take imperial powers into account. These constellations shape and
are shaped by elite constellations that can vary widely, but parts of the elites are always found
in the autocratic parliament and thus intertwined with the institution as such. Elites are most
12
broadly understood as “those groups that hold or exercise domination within a society or
within a particular area of social life” (Scott 2008:32). Thus, elites come from various social
classes. These different groups “may overlap and combine to form a single, overarching elite”
(Scott 2008:35), also called the ruling elite. Neither the ruling elite nor other elite groups are
static but may develop into the direction of unity or division. For autocratic regimes, Perthes
et.al have suggested conceptualizing the ruling elite as three concentric circles, with
decreasing decision-making power the further one travels from the center. The so-called core
elite – usually the head of state and their closest allies and advisors - has the power to make or
veto decisions. In the second circle, one finds different elite groups such as state officials,
tribal leaders, businessmen, religious leaders, ministers and members of the military who have
a substantial influence on the decision-making process. These elite groups may also be found
in the third circle where, in addition to trade unionists, civil society actors and intellectuals,
they can play a more indirect role on decisions by influencing the political discourse and
agenda-setting (Perthes 2002:8-9; 18). The specific constellation and closeness of a particular
elite group to the core – and thus its actual decision-making power – need to be reconstructed
for every case. Breaking up the monolithic bloc called ruling elite, it becomes evident how
plural, and thus potentially conflicting, the specific interests of these groups are. Agency of
the ruling elite can thus have many possible constellations depending on the action and
interaction of actors. For example, one group may increase its power at the expense of
another, whereas the loser may build alliances against the newcomer. The potential for elite
conflicts is huge and the institutional form they take has great influence on the parliamentary
institution and its development. In any case, the autocratic parliament is interconnected with
the prevailing relations of decision-making power, since it constitutes one point where actors
can make a difference. They can do this by deciding how to use decision-making power, if
they own it, or the extent to which they take interests of other elite groups into account in
their decision making. On the other hand, the underprivileged groups can either accept their
situation or build coalitions against it.
This leads to another realm of agency concerning the autocratic parliament. Parliament is not
only a place of negotiations concerning the decision-making, it is first and foremost a place of
public speech. Here, ruling elite members as well as delegates outside the elite groups have
numerous options at hand to publicly criticize their opponents. Parliamentary debates usually
consist of statements on what is perceived as right and wrong on specific or general issues.
13
These can provoke different reaction inside and outside the assembly and bring about various
roles of the parliament in regard to the public.2
While enumerating different kinds of agency, one should not forget that agency only means a
capability or potential that needs to be actualized. If and how this is done is left open to the
actors, who thereby directly and indirectly affect the agency of the parliament as such.3 To
understand how the capability to make a difference is transformed into politics within and by
the autocratic parliament, it is necessary to define the particular relations of decision-making
power and how they manifest themselves in and between the institutions. The following
analysis of the emergence of parliamentarism in Egypt is thus just one example for how the
dialectical relation can turn a formally powerless representative body into a legislature on
whose support also an autocratic ruling coalition relies on.
The emergence of parliamentarism in Egypt
Early traits of parliamentarism
In order to give an account of the emergence of parliamentarism in Egypt, one must define
when it actually started. Looking for the beginning of the parliamentary history, the Egyptian
historian Muḥammad Khalīl Subḥī finds early traits of parliamentarism in the institution of
the diwan, a consultative body introduced by the Ottoman representative in Cairo. Parliament
is considered here in its minimum qualification as a representative body4 so to what extent
this consultative body can be regarded as a parliamentary predecessor is questionable, as it
consisted mainly of officials, the administration at that time being in Ottoman hands (Ṣubḥī
1947:5). The focus here was on recruiting experts for consultation rather than representation.
This changed when the French occupied Egypt in 1798 and Napoleon installed local councils
called “diwan,” followed by the “Grand Diwan” in Cairo comprised of urban notables—
The public speech is of course interconnected with “the public,” another difficult concept in autocratic
regime research. In the historical overview, we have to deal with very different kinds of the public, since
mass media develop at the turn of the 20th century and online media and communication means at the
turn of the 21st century bring about changes the connection of the political and thus parliamentary life
with the public. I take these changes into account but cannot provide a comprehensive study of the
structural changes of the public in Egypt.
3 Of course, an institution could not do anything without actors, but analytically, we need to differentiate
between cases in which the parliament is the relevant, explicating unit bringing about a result or an action
and times when particular actors act on their own behalf.
4 Representative is understood here as the representation of particular interests of a constituency or
group whose support the delegate needs and that on the other hand makes the delegate relevant to the
regime.
2
14
mainly merchants and Islamic scholars (ʿulamāʾ) as well as rural representatives from the
provinces, Copts, Syrians and Ottoman officials (al-Ğabartī 1994:38). For many historians,
the Napoleonic diwans constitute the beginning of parliamentarism in Egypt. Abdel Malek
sees them as “les germs de régime representative” and their statutes as “la première
constitution de l’Egypte moderne” (1975:263).5 It may be an exaggeration to see these
councils as the seeds of parliamentarism, since some of them merely existed for a few months
and the French occupation itself came to end after four years. Still, the representation of
Egyptians in a consultative body was a novelty to the country.
Muḥammad ʿAlī, the so-called “modernizer of Egypt,” introduced a representative body only
after having completed his administrative centralizing reforms. Even though we find different
names for the body6 as well as differing founding years7 there is consensus that the high
representation of rural notables was a remarkable characteristic of this body. It consisted of 99
traditional village leaders (shuyūkh al-balad) which is quite a lot compared to the 33 members
personally appointed by Muḥammad ʿAlī, the 24 district governors, and the four Islamic
scholars also in the body. Al-Sayyid Marsot explains this overrepresentation of rural notables
as Muḥammad Alī’s need for their support in his vast reforms that mostly affected the rural
population. Among these were the agricultural transformation from subsistence- to exportoriented farming, the large recruitment of peasants for infrastructural work and the army, and
the expansion of a centralized tax collection system. All of these changes might have been
heavily opposed, but by including the village leaders into the political system and following
their advice on several occasions, Muḥammad ʿAlī won their support and could implement his
reforms more effectively (al-Sayyid Marsot 1984:108). Yet, this institution was dissolved in
1837 and replaced by a diwan system of expertise instead of representation. This might have
had to do with the decline of Muḥammad ʿAlī’s power, especially with the free trade
agreement forced upon the Wali by the British and the Sublime Porte in 1838. As the Wali’s
central planning of production, imports, and exports had been undermined by notables outside
Cairo in the governorates, Muḥammad ʿAlī might have lost faith in the idea that the
integration of rural notables in the diwan could really reinforce his rule. The following rulers,
ʿAbbās I (1848-1854) and Saʿīd (1854-1863) installed expert councils with consultative
functions and it was not before the reign of Ismāʿīl that Egypt’s parliamentary history gained
In a similar vein: Landau (1953: 7) and Tarikh al-sulta al-tashri’iyya fi-l-hukuma al-misriyya. In: al-Hilal,
1913, vol. 22, pp. 83-91.
6 mağlis al-mashwara (Landau 1953:7), mağlis al-mashūra (Abdel-Malek 1975:263), mağlis al-shūrā (al-Sayyid
Marsot 1984: 108), mağlis al-ʿālī (Ṣubḥī 1947:12).
7 1818 (Tarikh al-sulta al-tashri’iyya. al-Hilal 1913, p. 87), 1824 (Ṣubḥī 1947:7), 1829 (Landau 1953: 7).
5
15
momentum. What these early councils share with the rest of the development is that groups of
actors who were in some way relevant to the ruling elite were integrated into the political
system. This presents the core for agency of actors as well as of the institution itself.
The emergence of parliamentarism in Egypt, 1866-1882
In 1866, Khedive Ismāʿīl8 (1863-1879) introduced the Consultative Chamber of Deputies
(mağlis shūrā al-nuwwāb) composed of 75 deputies from 14 governorates who were selected
by electoral colleges. However, the power structures in the governorates determined the
colleges, and thus limited the circle of delegates to local, mainly rural notables. Various
reasons, external as well as domestic, for the installment of the chamber have been suggested.
Egyptian historians like al-Rāfiʿī and Ṣubḥī tend to assume that Ismāʿīl was following great
ideas such as the enhancement of civilization, progress, and the participation of the people
(Ṣubḥī 1947:15, al-Rāfiʿī 1982 vol2:89). Others have argued that some sort of power
consolidation was the driving force behind this move. In regards to its composition, it is likely
that Ismāʿīl had similar reasons for enacting the chamber as Muḥammad ʿAlī fifty years
before. Due to the construction of the Suez Canal under his predecessor, Ismāʿīl faced heavy
financial constraints in form of debt service to foreign financiers. Schölch argues that with the
creation of an institution that would at least pro forma constrain the Khedive’s power, the
worries of foreign creditors were assuaged and Egypt’s credit-worthiness was increased
(Schölch 1972:27).9 As these notables had risen in wealth and administrative influence since
the 1830s, it also seemed very reasonable to win over the notables as important taxpayers and
collectors for the Khedive’s cause. The notables, as representatives, could then even
legitimize higher taxes via their approval in the assembly (Hunter 1984:53). Furthermore,
Ismāʿīl might have wanted to foster trust in his reign and, by limiting his powers at a national
level, create incentives for further investment in the country’s economy. Cotton production,
due to its high water consumption, required especially high expenditures for irrigation
systems (Cannon 1988:31). Cole however proposes that the institution distracted the rural
notables from the
Khedive’s family’s land grab through the illusion of participation
(1993:30).
8
Ismāʿīl achieved formal recognition of his title as “khedive” instead of “wali” in 1867 but for the sake of
clarity, I use his well-known title for the previous years as well.
9
Indeed, the European press was pretty enthusiastic about the introduction of the chamber. See Landau 1953:8,
Barakat 1977:378.
16
It is remarkable how much these explanations resemble the theoretical concepts for
contemporary autocratic legislatures. From increased legitimacy to creating an improved
investment climate (for foreign and domestic investors) by constraining institutions, we find
many of these arguments discussed before. With the notable exception of Egyptian historians,
most authors infer from the top-down creation of the chamber that it was never powerful and
hence never played a role in Egypt’s politics (Cole 1993:31, Schölch 1972:30). As elaborated
in the critique of existing accounts, it will become obvious in the following overview of the
development of the mağlis shūrā al-nuwwāb that motives for creating and even maintaining
an institution, from the autocratic ruler’s perspective, might differ from the actual
development of the legislature.10 One can grasp the changes in these institutional dynamics by
looking at the delegates’ behavior as well as at the charters and constitutional texts.
From its founding until the time of the British occupation, this first parliamentary institution
went through four stages. During the first ten years, the chamber did comply with the role
accorded to it by the formal frame, two relevant charters which limited the scope of the
assembly to a consultative role in domestic affairs only. It did not even have the right to set
the agenda or start debates of its own initiative. Furthermore, the time of its meeting was
limited to two months annually. Sessions were held behind closed doors. However these
limitations did not prevent the deputies from quickly learning how to represent their interests.
This can be observed in their parliamentary actions, such as demanding the termination of the
existing tax farming system, the re-distribution of unexploited land to potential investors
(meaning themselves as wealthy landowners), as well as amendments to laws of inheritance in
order to prevent the fragmentation of their property. The delegates’ activities never really
stood in conflict with the Khedive, which makes it difficult to judge the chamber’s real power
vis-à-vis the monarch. The notables instead concentrated on issues of cooperation with the
Khedive that also served their own personal interest. For instance, they accepted one major
reform, the so-called muqābala law, which guaranteed an eternal tax exemption on landed
property in the case of a one-time payment of the tax sum of six years. Moreover, it
established full property rights on land.11 This was proposed because the Khedive was in
desperate need of money, and the delegates focused solely on their own profit in this
exchange. That it was completely ruinous beyond a short-term perspective did not matter to
the deputies; neither did the lack of transparency of whether their payments actually reached
10 For a comprehensive analysis of the parliamentary development in Egypt between 1866-1882, see
Weipert-Fenner 2011.
11 The development of land property rights: see Weipert-Fenner 2011: 56-66.
17
the state’s budget or if they went directly into the pockets of the Khedive (Weipert-Fenner
2011:76-82).
Still, the first stage seems to have prepared the delegates for more as they practiced
parliamentary procedures such as committee work, giving speeches and submitting proposals.
Furthermore, by spending two months together, one could claim that this created a sense of
community among the notables. They eventually discovered that they shared interests and
could develop common strategies to pursue those objectives. This might explain how it was
possible for the delegates to take up a more active role as soon as they got the chance for it.
The opportunity was created by the increasing influence of the European powers since 1875.
The more Egypt’s foreign debt service seemed to be in danger, the more the foreign powers
tried to appease the creditors by creating committees and sending delegations. This
culminated in the creation of the Caisse de la Dette Publique in 1876 that directly channeled
Egypt’s revenues into the debt service. Changes to the revenues had to be negotiated in
advance with the Caisse. This means that the Khedive was stripped of his budgetary power.
As the involved European countries however could not come to a consensus when dealing
with the Khedive, the French and the British increased their influence of the political system
and created the system of Dual Control. Here, the two countries agreed that a British inspector
would control Egypt’s financial affairs, and a French counterpart would do so with public
works, meaning the Suez Canal. In 1878, the financial situation of Egypt was even worse off,
which instigated a new initiative, the Commission of Inquiry, which demanded the Khedive’s
land property be nationalized and made accessible as a resource for the debt service.
Furthermore, it suggested that the two European inspectors be elevated to the position of
ministers in a newly created executive organ, the Ministers’ Council (mağlis al-wuzarāʾ). It
replaced the Private Council (al-mağlis al-khuṣūṣī), which was under the Khedive’s control
and had been dominated by the long-established Turco-Circassian elite.12 The new cabinet
was composed of Europeans and Egyptians seen as “collaborators.” They suggested financial
cuts and tax increases that would have directly hurt the rural notables.
During these years (1876-78), the Khedive integrated the Chamber of Deputies more and
more into the political debates, most likely because the delegates were as hostile towards the
European intrusion as he was. He convened the chamber for special sessions and granted
The Turco-Circassian elite, called „dhawāt“, were remnants of the caste of military slaves, imported
from the Caucasus during the Mamluk and Ottoman rule. They had high positions in the army and the
administration. During the 19th and early 20th century, a process of assimilation to Egyptians can be
observed. For more details see Weipert-Fenner 2011: 43-45; 112-113.
12
18
them an unprecedented amount of information on budget affairs. The delegates also got the
chance to discuss questions of taxation in detail. In exchange, the Khedive got the chamber’s
disapproval of positions of the institutions dominated by Europeans that had brought Egypt’s
sovereignty into a deep crisis. It is true that the chamber might have been being used by the
Khedive as an instrument to consolidate his power. However, one can imagine that the new
privilege of discussing budget and tax affairs was very attractive to the wealthy landowners in
the assembly. The desire to not only talk about these issues but to also have a say in them
might have started to grow here. Furthermore, the idea that the ruler relied on the parliament’s
support was something entirely new, although at that point it was embedded in constellation
of an alliance with the Khedive against a third party (Europeans and collaborators).
In 1879, opposition against the European powers and their politics intensified. Army officers
demonstrated for better working conditions and higher salaries and at the same time ever
more harsh tax collection methods further alienated the population from the government. In
this heated atmosphere, the delegates in the chamber demanded a greater say in tax affairs and
rejected the dissolution of parliament by the cabinet. Instead, they insisted on prolonging the
legislative period, and articulated a new attitude in their speeches. Some of the deputies began
to talk about the chamber as the fundament of a political order based on civilization and
justice and the idea of representing the Egyptian people was brought up. The delegates made
use of interpellations against ministers but did not have the means to enforce this instrument.
Against this new confrontational spirit, and pushed by the European powers, the prime
minster issued a decree that entitled the cabinet to restructure the financial legislation in Egypt
without any integration of the Chamber of Deputies in the process. As a consequence, the
cooperation between the parliament and the Khedive intensified and reached its peak in the
National Program (al-lā’iḥa al-waṭaniyya). This constituted an alternative to the cabinet’s
attempt to redefine the legal framework in financial affairs. The idea of the National Program
was to safeguard Egypt’s budgetary and overall sovereignty but at the same time to create a
trustworthy financial and political system that would calm worried creditors in Europe
(EzzelArab 2002). The British and the French role in Egypt was limited to financial control,
as it had been exercised during the years of Dual Control, however it remained a part of the
system. In addition, the financial obligations to the Ottoman Sultan and European financiers
remained out of parliamentary control.
The central feature among the political reforms was the upgrading of the chamber to a
parliament with full legislative rights and the general introduction of assembly confidence.
19
The latter was explicitly justified with a reference to European parliaments. The symbol for
these changes was the amendment of the official name of the institution. The term “shūrā” –
consultation - was eliminated, thereby overcoming the limitation to a consultative role. These
wide-ranging modifications made a new regulation of the chamber necessary, leading to the
constitutional draft of 1879. Here, a system of checks and balances between the parliament,
the cabinet and the Khedive was established. Yet, it never got the chance to be implemented
as several European countries protested outright against the new order. Their serious
opposition made the alliance around the Khedive fall apart and brought Ismāʿīl’s reign to an
end. His successor was his son Tawfīq, who European powers regarded as easier to
manipulate. Indeed, with this power transition a new cabinet was installed and the Chamber of
Deputies dissolved.
For the development of assembly confidence, it is interesting to note that at this stage the idea
that the government required a certain level of support from the assembly was already
existent. Yet, the political consequence of the lack of confidence led to the dissolution of
parliament instead of the government. One could argue that this was a sign for the early stage
of the development of parliamentarism and that the expectations in regard to the existence of
the assembly were not yet that high or widespread.
This apparently changed in 1881 when the former delegates took up political action again
and joined their forces with a group of army officers. Rallying behind the charismatic officer
Aḥmad ʽUrābī, three demands were directed at Khedive Tawfīq during the famous
demonstration of the army in front of ʽAbdīn Palace. First, the army called for an increase in
the number of soldiers to 18,000.13 The two other demands were to reinstall the Chamber of
Deputies and to write a new constitution. The pressure created by the unruly officers brought
Tawfīq to make some concessions, which included new elections of the Chamber of Deputies
in November 1881. After this, parliamentary life remained marked by self-restraint of all
participating actors. The work on a new constitution continued in the assembly and its
committees, and the delegates even proposed regulations that would have meant a loss of their
own decision–making power. Yet, the overall goal was clear; to safeguard Egypt’s autonomy
vis-à-vis the European powers and not give them any reason to further penetrate the Egyptian
system or occupy the country. The latter fear was augmented by the formal occupation in
North Africa that began in 1881 with the French occupation of Tunisia.
The idea was to create more senior posts and thereby increase the chances for native Egyptians to make a
career in an army that had been dominated so far by the Turco-Circassian elite.
13
20
However, these attempts did not prove successful. In a joint diplomatic note, Great Britain
and France declared unconditional solidarity with the Khedive, which was perceived by the
delegates as an indirect threat of intervention. After this, the delegates gave up their selfrestraint, and in cooperation with a new cabinet, they designed and put into force a new
constitution and electoral law the following month. This gave wide powers to the parliament
in terms of budget and taxation, however embedded in a system of checks and balances. The
delegates continued their struggle for parliamentary rights even after they lost support of the
government which feared triggering European intervention. Yet, the development of the idea
that the executive cannot rule without the parliament support had reached such a level that the
delegates stood alone against the ruler Tawfiq, his European allies, and the cabinet.
The European powers did not tolerate an autonomous development and brought the situation
to a head in June 1882 and led to a military intervention by Great Britain. The struggle for
independence of the Egyptian army was short and fruitless, and the British occupied Egypt
that year. Formally however, they only took over the administration of Egypt with Evelyn
Baring, later Lord Cromer, as General Consul of Egypt, and only in 1915 did they officially
declare Egypt to be a British protectorate.
Conclusion
In sum, the first proper parliament in Egypt underwent considerable development from a
formally consultative role to a chamber with decisive powers of budget and tax affairs,
embedded in a system of checks and balances. This progress started with the actors within the
institution who first learned how to use the assembly for their own ends. When the country’s
sovereignty, as well as the delegate’s fortunes, were threatened by European dominance, the
notables developed the chamber into a national representative body, at least in their rhetoric.
This points to the second factor that made institutional change possible: the larger context of a
shift in power relations from the former elite around the Khedive Ismāʽīl to Europeans and
their Egyptian collaborators, later joined by the installed Khedive Tawfīq. This allowed for an
expansion of parliamentary rights, which at the beginning was granted by the Khedive
Ismāʽīl, but was later realized by the delegates themselves.
That means that the integration and development of parliament into the political system began
when the ruler was sure of the confidence of the delegates and used it as a counterweight to
the increasing European influence. Yet, the delegates learned how to use the institution for
21
their own needs and thereby developed its internal and inter-institutional framework
accordingly. The attempt in 1879 failed due to European pressure, yet it was taken up again and remarkably by the delegates themselves – as soon as the parliament was reinstalled in
1881. When the parliament, as an independent body, pushed for reforms in 1882, it did not
show any confidence neither in the ruler nor the cabinet. This resulted in a political crisis that
apparently could only be suppressed by military force.
Egypt’s parliament from then on until 2011 showed similar developments, increasing
parliamentary power and the need for assembly confidence for the ruling elite, yet not as a
formal right or procedure, but as part of the power-sharing deal that builds on a certain
consensus or balance of interests between the parliament and the executive. In the vast
number of possible forms the relationships of an autocratic parliament can take, the recurrent
pattern was that parliament always negotiated with or against the government in order to
achieve results. In most cases, the head of the state was above those struggles. During these
times, public and group specific needs were channeled into the assembly, and as long as the
government remained responsive to these demands, contention was largely avoided.
However, things changed when this responsiveness decreased due to a major party (Wafd in
the 1940s), a group within the party (business wing of the NDP in the 2000s), or the head of
state (Tawfīq before the British occupation, al-Sādāt at the end of the 1970s) deciding to
exercise power without taking other interests or beliefs into consideration. Strikingly, when
responsiveness diminished to the extent that it led to the actual loss of confidence in the
executive, this resulted in a severe crisis and the breakdown of the regime.
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