Egyptian President Mohammed Mursi and the Muslim Brotherhood inherited a corrupt police state with failing institutions. Crime was rising, and the economy was in free fall immediately after long-time leader Hosni Mubarak was toppled last year.
However, rather than reach out to secular and liberal voices, Mursi and the world's most influential Islamist organisation have often resorted to the rigid structure that helped the Brotherhood survive decades as a persecuted opposition movement.
Though they have been overwhelmed by circumstances, their ability to lead the country has been further compromised by an authoritarian streak.
Angry protests that drew tens of thousands of people into Cairo's Tahrir Square last week reveal that Egyptians will no longer accept an autocratic leader, whether an Islamist like Mursi or a secularist like Mubarak. A dispute with judges over separation of government powers has rallied liberals and non-Muslims who fear that Mursi aims to gradually expand Islamic law to alter the nation's character and limit civil and religious freedoms.
The resolute yet uncharismatic Mursi is reviled and praised. Rival portraits of the peasant's son who became an engineer and then president have emerged: a pragmatist seeking a constitutional democracy but willing to bend the rules to get there; or a political novice determined to stifle state institutions to further the Brotherhood's dominance.
This split self is articulated in Tahrir Square posters that depict the faces of Mursi and Mubarak as one and the same. It is the caricature of a man who miscalculated, perhaps did not fathom the limits of his popularity.
The president's moves over the past week suggest that two Mursis are at work.
A decree he issued placed his office beyond judicial oversight on matters dealing with state institutions, notably the Islamist-led assembly drafting a new constitution. Courts controlled by Mubarak-era judges had disbanded an earlier assembly and Mursi feared a similar fate awaited the current one.
Such a scenario would have further disrupted Egypt's messy political transition and delayed new parliamentary elections. Mursi and the Brotherhood were stung in June when the country's highest court dissolved the Islamist-led parliament, sidetracking the Brotherhood's Renaissance Project, an ill-defined economic and social plan aimed at fixing the nation.
Mursi received another rejection from judges last week, when they reiterated their condemnation of his decree and urged a countrywide court strike. The actions followed a five-hour meeting between Mursi and the Supreme Judiciary Council that failed to broker a compromise.
The president's battle with the judiciary epitomises the Brotherhood's wider struggle against entrenched remnants of the old regime manoeuvring to upend Mursi through chaos and gridlock that jeopardises foreign investment, security and Egyptians' faith in the ideals of last year's revolution.
At key moments, though, the Brotherhood has relied on an authoritarian tendency in its erratic efforts to govern Egypt.
Mursi's overall "aim is to establish a new undemocratic political system with the Brotherhood at the centre of the state", said Dr Ashraf El Sherif, a political scientist at the American University in Cairo. "They are not interested at all in reforming the politics of the country."
Many of those who took to the streets last week do not trust the courts, either. But they accuse Mursi of power grabs and have branded him a new pharaoh.
The protesters do not see a president's pragmatism; they see Machiavellian ambitions by the Brotherhood to sideline the opposition, including leading figures such as Nobel laureate Dr Mohamed ElBaradei.
"The people want to bring down the regime!" protesters shouted, in the same chant used to unseat Mubarak.
Hundreds of young men and boys hurled rocks at police around Tahrir Square. The Muslim Brotherhood cancelled a large pro-Mursi rally planned in Cairo to avoid clashes with antigovernment protesters and soccer fans known as Ultras. But it joined ultraconservative Islamists in a march in Alexandria.
Throughout its 84-year history after being founded by a teacher, the Brotherhood has been co-opted, marginalised and persecuted by Egypt's leaders, who since 1952 were all military men.
Thousands of Brotherhood members were arrested and tortured during Mubarak's 30-year rule. The Islamist organisation survived not by being democratic within its ranks, but by a rigid structural orthodoxy with a dedicated populist base.
The group's authoritarian side has largely defined the Brotherhood's problems in governing. Last year, it expelled prominent young members who were seeking a more moderate political approach.
Although Mursi was praised this month for his pivotal role in negotiating a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas in the Gaza Strip, he has been unable to convince opposition groups that he is a sincere democrat. He and the Brotherhood have often been overwhelmed reacting to cascading crises, sometimes clumsily.
Political instability has caused the economy to plummet and threatens billions of dollars in desperately needed foreign investment. Crime is rising. Labour strikes multiply. And resurgent networks of Islamist militants have been killing Egyptian security forces in the Sinai Peninsula. But, as he showed with his recent decree involving the courts, Mursi can be calculating.
In August, the president forced the resignations of Egypt's military commanders, including Field Marshal Mohamed Hussein Tantawi, who had controlled the country since Mubarak's fall in February last year and despised the Brotherhood's Islamist plans for the nation.
It was a bold move that showed Mursi was capable of eliminating the man who rivalled him for power, apparently backed by younger officers willing to strike a deal with the Brotherhood to replace their ageing generals and advance their own careers. It also suggested that Mursi was open to reaching out to holdovers from Mubarak's regime - including officials from police, intelligence and the courts - if they were willing to switch allegiances. The pressing question is whether Mursi can outlast the protest movement.
The opposition camp, famous for bickering and endless tweeting, has recently found cohesion and momentum. The nation's suspicions over the Brotherhood are resonating, but so far the president is not blinking.
"Mursi is betting on the street's fervour to die out. He will try to stretch this out to its limit," according to El Sherif.
"It is not in his best interest to rescind this decree because it will be a blow to his popularity and the Brotherhood. But if this crisis continues, he will have to."
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