Egyptians yearning for a speedy transition to representative democracy find their country trapped instead in a maze of political and legal manoeuvring that is deepening, rather than healing, divisions within the country. Until a new sense of national consensus can be found, the prospects are grim.
On Sunday the Supreme Constitutional Court ruled that members of the elected upper house of parliament, and of the body that wrote Egypt's new constitution, had been named improperly.
A year ago the court impugned the legitimacy of parliament's lower house in a similar way. It was dissolved then, and Mohammed Morsi, the president, claimed legislative power. But popular anger soon prompted him to assign lawmaking to the upper house, called the Shura Council.
The latest decision did not call for the council to disband; it can keep legislating until elections. And the constitution - written to suit the governing Muslim Brotherhood, approved in a December plebiscite and now judicially deemed to be tainted - will likely remain in force.
And therein lies the source of Egypt's problems.
As the Brotherhood has consolidated power in the 27 months since the fall of Hosni Mubarak, the courts have become the final bulwark - except for the armed forces - against a new authoritarianism.
But the resulting protracted and confused shuffling of powers is the antithesis of democratic legitimacy. The country is now - nominally, at least - governed under a constitution written by people who had no right to write it, and approved by barely 20 per cent of those eligible to vote on it. Only two-thirds of council members are elected; turnout was a mere 7 per cent. Other members are appointed by the president.
All this is sadly, ludicrously, dangerously far from the ideal. A constitution is supposed to express national consensus, about government and to a degree about society. What are the core values? What compromises are essential to unity? What are the rights - and the duties - of a citizen? What are the limits on state power? What protections should minorities have?
Agreement on these vital elements of civil coexistence, enshrined in a constitution, becomes a country's basic law, by which all other laws, and government actions, stand or fall.
After decades of dictatorship, compromise is a lost art in Egypt; absolute control has great allure. But the contest to gain the upper hand is paralysing decision-making and scaring off investment, even when the fight remains free of violence.
Egypt's politics need not be a zero-sum game; the whole country would benefit from a calm, inclusive attempt to reach a new constitutional accord.
