With violent protests following the second anniversary of the Egyptian revolution, and calls for a new unified government amid dire comments about the stability of Egypt, the world’s attention is again on President Morsi and his country. This follows a tumultuous period last month, when Egyptians went to the polls and ratified a new constitution. The document, criticized as hurried, incomplete, and lacking in consensus is enormously contentious.

In the Saban Center’s newest Middle East Memo, The View From a Distance: Egypt’s Contentious New Constitution, nonresident fellow Mirette F. Mabrouk gives a broad overview of the new constitution, and provides context and analysis for specific sections.

Mabrouk outlines several ways in which, she argues, the document is shaky on the protection of freedoms and rights, particularly those of women, some religious minorities and minors. Mabrouk also encourages analysts to stop viewing this situation as an Islamist/ secular divide, arguing that idea is too simplistic, and lacks the context for greater understanding of Egypt’s domestic politics.

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Thursday, South Africa’s highest court found President Zuma guilty of violating the constitution as he refused to reimburse the large sum of money spent on improvements to his personal home. Between 2010 and 2014, the home located in the president’s rural hometown of Nkandla received improvement which cost an estimated $23 million. The improvements include a chicken coop, an amphitheater, a swimming pool, and a helipad. President Zuma has stated that the improvements were necessary to ensure his security and should consequently be paid for with taxpayers’ money. In 2014, public prosecutor Thuli Madonsela ruled that the president should repay part of the taxpayers’ money spent on the improvements of his personal home. In refusing to do so, he violated the country’s constitution “by not complying with a decision by the public protector, the national watchdog.” The court has given the National Treasury 60 days to determine the sum the president must repay. The opposition has stated that they will seek Zuma’s impeachment.

In other South African news, this week, the rand strengthen against the U.S. dollar and reached its highest value since December 8, 2015, the day before President Zuma fired former Finance Minister Nhlanla Nene. The strengthening of the rand was coupled with the strengthening of other Emerging Markets currencies. This hike follows the statement from Federal Reserve Chair Janey Yellen, reiterating the importance to raise U.S. interest rates cautiously, amid risks in the global economy. Investors—weighting prospects of higher U.S. borrowing costs—were holding off in acquiring emerging-market assets.

This week, 17 Angolan activists were sentenced to jail time for rebellion against the government of Jose Eduardo dos Santos. The sentences ranged from two years to eight and a half years. Last June, the activists were arrested during a book club meeting focusing on Gene Sharp’s book titled From Dictatorship to Democracy: A Conceptual Framework for Liberation—a book on nonviolence and resistance to repressive regimes. Monday, the activists were charged and sentenced with acts of rebellion, planning mass action of civil disobedience, and producing fake passports, among other charges. Amnesty International has accused the Angolan court of wrongfully convicting the activists and using the judicial system to “silence dissenting views.”

Later in the week, in response to the jailing of the young activists, the Portuguese branch of hacking group Anonymous claimed the shutdown of 20 government websites, including that of the Ministry of Education and the Ministry of Labor and Social Security, among others. In a Facebook post claiming the attack, the group states, “The real criminals are outside, defended by the capitalist system that increasingly spreads in the minds of the weak.” The functionality of the websites has been restored.  

On Monday, March 28, the U.S. Millennium Challenge Corporation (MCC) withdrew $472 million in aid from the government of Tanzania after the result of the last weekend’s disputed presidential election rerun in the semi-autonomous archipelago of Zanzibar was announced. Incumbent President Ali Mohamed Shein of the ruling Chama Cha Mapinduzi party was declared the winner with 91.4 percent of the vote. However, the rerun was boycotted by the opposition Civic United Front party over the cancellation of last October’s election by the Zanzibar Electoral Commission. The commission claimed the October poll was fraudulent, while the opposition says the allegations of fraud were fabricated to thwart a victory by their candidate.

The MCC was planning a number of power and infrastructure projects in Tanzania, but its development assistance programming is conditional upon beneficiaries meeting certain standards of good governance. The MCC’s board of directors held a vote on Monday, in which they determined that Tanzania was no longer eligible to partner with the MCC given the election outcome. Although the loss of the MCC partnership is a sizable blow to the Tanzanian government, the Tanzanian finance minister appeared optimistic that the power projects would continue despite the MCC’s decision, as he stated: “We weren’t surprised at all because we were prepared for whatever the outcome. We will implement those projects using local sources of fund and the support of from other development partners.” Meanwhile, 10 out of the country’s 14 key western donors withdrew general budget support to Tanzania over the contested election.

Thomas Mann joins Sean O’Brien and Nate Persily on the Diane Rehm Show to examine what the U.S. Constitution says about drawing congressional and legislative districts and how court decisions have further shaped those guidelines.

DIANE REHM: Thanks for joining, us I'm Diane Rehm. The framers of the U.S. Constitution did not use the word district when they outlined how Congressional representatives would be chosen. Article 1, Section 2 of the document states only how to choose the number of lawmakers. Today, the redistricting process has become at times contentious and blatantly partisan. As part of our "Constitution Today" series, we look at what the document says about the process of redistricting and how court cases have furthered shaped those guidelines.

Joining me here in the studio are Sean O'Brien of the Center for the Constitution at James Madison's Montpelier, Thomas Mann of the Brookings Institution and joining us from Columbia Law School where he is The Beekman Professor of Law and Political Science, is Nate Persily. Throughout the hour, we'll welcome your calls, questions, 800-433-8850. Send us your e-mail to drshow@wamu.org. Good morning, gentlemen. Thank you for joining me.

SEAN O'BRIEN: Good morning.

THOMAS MANN: Good morning.

NATE PERSILY: Good morning.

REHM: Sean O'Brien, let me start with you. What does the constitution actually say about legislative districts and I'm glad that you have a copy of the constitution right in front of you, good. Nate Persily has his as well.

O'BRIEN: As you indicated in the opening it's very, very vague, as are many things in the constitution, and we have to figure out how to implement what this constitution says. Really what they did initially was set up the initial representation and came up with the number of representatives that each state would have before they knew how many people lived there and set up a minimum number of representatives that each state could have and the maximum size, which they could be.

And so they basically -- it just says here the actual enumeration shall be made within three years after the first meeting of the Congress of the United States and within every subsequent term of 10 years, in a manner as they shall by law direct. The number of representatives shall not exceed one for every 30,000, but each state shall have at least one representative. And until such enumeration shall be made and then they lay out which states get how many members of Congress in the first Congress.

And that gets into an interesting story that Tom and I were talking about out in the lobby, but again, it's pretty open and that's why we have a lot of opportunities to continue to talk about this issue right now.

REHM: All right. And turning to you, Nate Persily, when did the word district first come into play?

PERSILY: Well, for hundreds of years now, we've had districts, but as Sean said, there's no constitutional requirement that we have it. We have since the Supreme Court decisions in the 1960s abided by a rule of population equality for congressional and other districts and are drawn but Congress then has passed statutes, various apportionment statutes over time that have required single member districts and the one that currently exists today is about 90 years old.

REHM: Ninety years old? Tom Mann.

MANN: It's important to remember the other provision of the constitution that is relevant here is Article 1, Section 4, the times, places and manner of holding elections for senators and representatives shall be prescribed in each state by the legislature thereof. So it was the states that were given the authority to decide how those representatives would be elected. They could have set up a proportional representation system, everyone running at large statewide in which case redistricting would never have arisen as a problem.

Listen to the interview or read the full transcript at thedianerehmshow.org »

With parliamentary elections now complete, Egypt moves to the next major step in its fitful political transition -- drafting a new constitution for the republic. As the fundamental document establishing a framework for governance, the new Egyptian constitution will have a lasting effect on Egyptian law, politics, and society.  However, Egypt’s transition is shaping up to be a case study in how not to initiate a constitution-writing process.

At a time when the shortcomings of a mismanaged transition threaten to undermine the constitution-writing process, author Tamir Moustafa identifies the most important issues to be tackled by the country’s Constituent Assembly. Focusing on questions that range from the place of Islamic law to women’s rights to the role of the military, he offers recommendations on how each area should be addressed.

The paper – the first to be published under the new Brookings Doha Center-Stanford Project on Arab Transitions – concludes that while constitution writing must be treated as an organic process, the international community should work to ensure that Egypt’s military does not entrench a role for itself in domestic governance.

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In an interview on NPR's Fresh Air, Jeffrey Rosen discusses how technological changes are challenging basic Constitutional principles of freedom of speech and our own individual autonomy.

TERRY GROSS, HOST:This is FRESH AIR. I'm Terry Gross. The digital world that we've come to rely on - the Internet, social networks, GPS's, street maps—also creates opportunities to collect information about us, track our movements and invade our privacy. Add to that brain scans that might reveal criminal tendencies and new developments in genetic medicine and biotechnology, and you have a lot of potential challenges to basic Constitutional principles that our founding father couldn't possibly have imagined.

My guest, Jeffrey Rosen has put together a new book that explores those challenges. Along with Benjamin Wittes, he co-edited Constitution 3.0: Freedom and Technological Change. It's a publication of the Brookings Institution's Project on Technology and the Constitution, which Rosen directs. He's also a law professor at George Washington University and legal editor for The New Republic.

His new book is a collection of essays in which a diverse group of legal scholars imagine plausible technological developments in or near the year 2025 that would stress current Constitutional law, and they propose possible solutions.

Jeffrey Rosen, welcome back to FRESH AIR. So what are the particular parts of the Constitution that you think really come into play here with new technologies?

JEFFREY ROSEN: Well, what's so striking is that none of the existing amendments give clear answers to the most basic questions we're having today. So, for example, think about global positioning system technologies, which the Supreme Court is now considering. Can the police, without a warrant, put a secret GPS device on the bottom of someone's car and track him 24/7 for a month?

Well, the relevant constitutional text is the Fourth Amendment which says the right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers and effects against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated. But that doesn't answer the question: Is it an unreasonable search of our persons or effects to be monitored in public spaces?

Some courts have said no. Several lower court judges and the Obama administration argue that we have no expectation of privacy in public, because it's theoretically possible for our neighbors to put a tail on us or for the police to track us for 100 miles, as the court has said. Therefore, we have to assume the risk that we're being monitored, ubiquitously, 24/7 for a month.

But not everyone agrees. In a visionary opinion, Judge Douglas Ginsburg on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit said there's a tremendous difference between short-term and long-term surveillance. We may expect that our neighbors are watching when we walk on the street for a few blocks, but no one in practice expects to be tailed or surveilled for a month.

Ginsburg said we do have an expectation of privacy in the whole of our movements, and therefore when the police are going to engage in long-term surveillance, because they can learn so much more about us, they should have a warrant.

There was a remarkable moment in the oral argument for the global positioning system case. Chief Justice John Roberts, who asked the first question, he said: Isn't there a difference between 100-mile search of the kind we've approved in the past and watching someone for a month?

The government's lawyer resisted, and Roberts said: Is it the U.S. government's position that the police could put GPS devices inside the clothes of the members of this court, of these justices, or under our cars and track us for a month? And when the government's lawyer said yes, I think he may have lost the case.

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Technology unimaginable at the time of the nation’s founding now poses stark challenges to America’s core constitutional principles. Policymakers and legal scholars are closely examining how constitutional law is tested by technological change and how to preserve constitutional principles without hindering progress. In Constitution 3.0: Freedom and Technological Change (Brookings Institution Press, 2011), Governance Studies Senior Fellow Benjamin Wittes and Nonresident Senior Fellow Jeffrey Rosen asked a diverse group of leading scholars to imagine how technological developments plausible by the year 2025 could stress current constitutional law. The resulting essays explore scenarios involving information technology, genetic engineering, security, privacy and beyond.

On December 13, the Governance Studies program at Brookings hosted a Judicial Issues Forum examining the scenarios posed in Constitution 3.0 and the challenge of adapting our constitutional values to the technology of the near future. Wittes and Rosen offered key highlights and insights from the book and was joined by two key contributors, O. Carter Snead and Timothy Wu, who discussed their essays.

After the program, panelists took audience questions.

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Although we are early in the twenty-first century, breathtaking changes in technology are posing stark challenges to our constitutional values. From free speech to privacy, from liberty and personal autonomy to the right against self-incrimination, basic constitutional principles are under stress from technological advances unimaginable even a few decades ago, let alone during the founding era. In Constitution 3.0, we asked a group of provocative thinkers to imagine the ways in which technological change will challenge our constitutional and legal values in the year 2030.

Will privacy become obsolete, for example, in a world where ubiquitous surveillance is becoming the norm? Imagine that Facebook and Google post live feeds to public and private surveillance cameras, allowing 24/7 tracking of any citizen in the world. How can we protect free speech now that Facebook, Google, and other private intermediaries have more power than any king, president, or Supreme Court justice to decide who can speak and who can be heard? How will advanced brain-scan technology affect the constitutional right against self-incrimination? And on a more elemental level, should people have the right to manipulate their genes and design their own babies? Should we be allowed to patent new forms of life that seem virtually human? And we then asked our contributors to propose ways of translating and preserving constitutional values in the year 2030, in the face of dizzying technological change.

The launch event for the book, held on December 13 at Brookings, provoked a vigorous conversation that mirrored the debates in the book itself. My co-editor Ben Wittes and I invited Tim Wu and Carter Snead to discuss their contributions to Constitution 3.0 and to debate a question the U.S. Supreme Court is now considering: should the police be allowed, without a valid warrant, to secretly put a Global Positioning System device on the bottom of a car of a suspected drug dealer in order to track his movements, 24/7, for a month? The panelists disagreed about the proper outcome: Tim Wu argued that Google and Facebook now have more power over our private data than any police agent or Supreme Court justice, and yet the Constitution, as currently interpreted, restricts private corporations far less rigorously than it constrains the police. Carter Snead insisted that it’s not enough for judges to predict how much privacy people actually expect in the face of new technologies; instead, they need to identify how much privacy we should demand in order to live in a free society rather than a police state. Benjamin Wittes dissented, arguing that Congress, rather than the Courts, should protect the privacy of our geo-locational information, whether collected by GPS devices or stored on cell phones. And I channeled the spirit of the patron saint of Constitution 3.0, Justice Louis Brandeis. Brandeis would have been impatient, I think, with the government’s statements that we have no expectations of privacy in public; instead, Brandeis would have insisted on translating the constitutional Framers’ prohibition on unreasonable searches and seizures into the 21st century. Now that GPS devices and cell phones can reveal far more about our movements, thoughts, and activities outside of the home than old style home break-ins could have revealed in the 18th century, Brandeis might have insisted that long term surveillance is unreasonable without a warrant.

If you watch the webcast, you’ll get a sense of debate among the panelists about who is best equipped to protect constitutional values in the face of new technologies: the Supreme Court, Congress, administrative agencies, private companies like Google and Facebook, political activism groups, or some combination of all of the above. Regardless of where you come out on these issues, I hope you’ll find the project of trying to imagine the constitutional challenges of the next few decades as challenging and rewarding as we did in writing the book.

On Friday, October 31, 2014, President Blaise Campaoré, who had ruled Burkina Faso for the last 27 years, was forced out of office. The resignation and subsequent military takeover of the government has created instability and questions over leadership in the country—especially since the constitutional line of succession has been broken by the insertion of military leaders. The power of the military is clear, especially since it has already influenced a second change in leadership. This interruption, subsequent transition and suspension of the constitution, then, have seriously threatened the strength of the rule of law and the future of the Burkinabé government.

The violent demonstrations that eventually forced President Campaoré to flee with his family into exile in Côte d’Ivoire could have been avoided had he not considered himself above the law. The impetus for the mass demonstrations was his attempt to change the country’s constitution in order to secure for himself another five-year term in office. Campaoré’s initial reaction to the violent demonstrations was to dissolve the government but retain his position as president until new elections were carried out to select a new government. He also agreed not to seek another term in office. The opposition, however, insisted that he resign. Interestingly, in his resignation statement, issued shortly before he fled the country, President Campaoré called for “free and transparent” elections to be held in 90 days to form a new government.

Shortly after the president’s resignation, General Honoré Traoré, Campaoré’s aide de camp, proclaimed himself president of the republic. This immediate military intervention into Burkinabé politics betrays either a lack of appreciation for constitutional democracy or a willful attempt by the military to take advantage of the instability occasioned by the planned constitutional changes to maximize their corporate interests. But, could someone who had risen to the head of the Burkinabé military have such little understanding of and appreciation for the constitutional order? In announcing that he had assumed the office of head of state, Traoré actually stated as follows: “In line with constitutional measures, and given the power vacuum . . . I will assume as of today my responsibilities as head of state.”

Importantly, there is no provision in the constitution of Burkina Faso for the head of the military or some other military officer to assume the powers of the president in case of a vacancy in the office. Succession, in the case of a vacancy in the presidency of the republic, is governed by Article 43 of the Constitution of Burkina Faso, 1991, which states that, in a case like this, the functions of the presidency should be performed by the president of the senate. [1]

After Traoré’s quick takeover, the leaders of the protests rejected the government headed by such a close and trusted advisor of the ousted president, claiming it would not represent a full and effective break with the painful past, especially the attempted constitutional changes. In fact, according to Al Jazeera, many of the protesters proclaimed that “[t]he general is linked to Campoaré, and they don’t want anyone linked to Campaoré to lead the country.”

Thus, early on Saturday, November 1, 2014, Colonel Isaac Zida declared that the army had taken control of the state to prevent further violence and that he had assumed the functions of head of state, leading what he referred to as a “peaceful transition”—one that would guarantee the “continuity of the [Burkinabé] state.” He, however, was extremely vague, providing few details, especially regarding how long this transitional government would stay in power or if the elections planned for 2015 will be held. Again, it is difficult to imagine that Zida, like Traoré, was not aware that the resignation and subsequent exit of the president from the political scene did not call for military intervention in the political system. In fact, a military officer of his standing should have had enough familiarity with the constitution to be aware of Article 43.

Oddly, the protesters appeared to have accepted the leadership of Zida, who is said to have been the deputy head of Campaoré’s elite presidential guard. It appears that the deciding factor in the struggle between the two men to assume the position of head of state was acceptance by the military: In a statement issued early on Saturday, November 1, 2014, the military indicated that Zida had been unanimously elected by military chiefs to lead the post-Campaoré transitional government. But, again, in making this decision, were these military leaders not aware of Article 43 of the constitution, which sets out the succession procedures in case of a temporary or permanent vacancy in the presidency? If, indeed, they had knowledge of the provisions of Article 43, then why did they interfere with what should have been a constitutionally mandated succession?

The international community has called on all sides in the Burkinabé political crisis to follow “constitutionally mandated” procedures for the transfer of power. The international community (especially the African Union) is asking the Burkina Faso military not to exploit the constitutional crisis for its own benefit but to respect the desire of the majority of Burkinabé for democracy and peaceful coexistence. That, of course, calls for respect by all Burkinabé, including the military, for the constitution.

The president’s resignation in itself did not create a constitutional crisis in Burkina Faso. The Constitution of 1991 specifically anticipates the resignation or incapacitation of the president and prescribes procedures for succession. According to Article 43, if the president is temporarily incapacitated and is incapable of carrying out his or her duties, “his powers shall be provisionally exercised by the Prime Minister.” As noted above, in this particular case, where the president has resigned and created a permanent vacancy in the presidency, the constitution states that the functions of the presidency should be performed by the president of the senate. [2] The military should not have intervened—military intervention in the country’s political system actually created what is fast becoming a major constitutional crisis. The military has suspended the constitution and, without the guidance provided by it, the military is now governing the country extra-constitutionally through decrees. The military can end this unfolding crisis by restoring the constitution and handing power back to a civilian regime, led, as prescribed by their constitution, by the president of the senate. The latter will, of course, serve as a transitional head of state until elections are completed in 2015 to select a permanent president. International organizations, including especially the African Union, support this approach—on November 3, 2014, the AU issued a statement asking the Burkinabé military to exit the political system and hand power to a civilian ruler.

But what about the riots and violence that had enveloped the city of Ouagadougou and were gradually spreading to other cities? Should the army not have been called upon to quell the riots and bring about peace? In virtually all countries, including Burkina Faso, the police—not the army—should be the institution enforcing the law and maintaining order. There is no indication that military intervention was necessary to bring the rioting under control or that it actually did. Most of the people participating in the riots voluntarily stopped their activities after the president resigned and left the country.

However, what the army did was interfere with the constitutional process and in doing so, actually created this constitutional crisis—shortly after declaring himself head of state and leader of the transition, Zida suspended the constitution, as noted above. Although Zida has assured the people that the military will strive to quickly return Burkina Faso to democratic governance, such guarantees appear hollow, especially given the military’s past history of intervention—every time the Burkinabé military has intervened in politics, it has remained in power for a very long time, 27 years in the case of the Campaoré-led intervention of 1987.

Article 43 of the Constitution of Burkina Faso also states that elections should be held between 60 and 90 days after a vacancy has been declared in the presidency. Zida, who is now the de facto head of state in Burkina Faso, has stated that his would be a transitional government and that it would seek input from all stakeholders to organize and undertake democratic elections to choose a new government. However, the constitution, which would have provided the necessary guidelines for carrying out such elections, has been suspended. In addition, he has closed the country’s borders and imposed a general curfew, which severely restricts the right of citizens to live freely. Such restrictions could have a significant impact on economic activities and negatively affect what is already a relatively fragile economy. These initial draconian and extra-constitutional measures do not augur well for an early exit of the military from politics and the return of constitutional rule to the country. If history teaches us anything about the military and Burkinabé politics, it is that this military, like the one that intervened in 1987, is likely to stay in politics much longer than the 90 days needed to elect a new civilian government.

[1], [2] This is in line with the constitutional amendment of June 11, 2012 (Loi No. 033-2012/AN du 1 juin 2012).