While there are legitimate concerns about the group's positions on both domestic and foreign policy, the Brotherhood of today is not the Brotherhood of yesterday. Decades ago, it renounced violence. More recently, the group has publicly committed itself, in Arabic, to many of the foundational components of democratic life, including alternation of power, popular sovereignty, and judicial independence. In its political programs, the Brotherhood has largely stripped its programs of traditional Islamist content. Where the Brotherhood once talked endlessly about "application of shariah law" (tatbiq al-shariah), it now settles for vague expressions promoting Islamic values and morals. Meanwhile, its vocabulary has shifted from favoring an "Islamic state" to a "civil, democratic state with an Islamic reference."
The Brotherhood, to be sure, is not a force for liberalism, nor is it likely to become so anytime soon. The group holds views that most Americans would be uncomfortable with, including on women's rights and segregation of the sexes. But we're not voting in Egyptian elections; Egyptians are.
Ultimately, though, American fears about the Brotherhood are not about gender equality or religious freedom. After all, one of America's closest allies is the most theocratic country in the world. Saudi Arabia, as conservative as it is, supports U.S. security objectives in the region. The real concern is whether the Brotherhood, known for its inflammatory rhetoric against Israel and the United States, would work against U.S. regional interests. Crucially, would it attempt to cancel the peace treaty with Israel—long the cornerstone of the U.S.-Egypt relationship? Such an outcome is unlikely; the Brotherhood is well aware that this is a red line for the international community. Any new, transitional government—which will be tasked with rebuilding a battered country—will not want to harm its relationship with Washington and risk losing billions of dollars in much-needed assistance.
Slate: Should We Fear The Muslim Brotherhood.
