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Review of African Political Economy No. 113: 417-422© ROAPE Publications Ltd., 2007ISSN 0305-6244

Imperial, Neo-Liberal Africa?

Alfred B. Zack-Williams & Giles Mohan

Now that the fanfare and euphoria surrounding what has been called Tony Blair’spassionate denunciation of impoverishment in Africa as ‘a scar on the conscience ofthe world’ (Lone, 2007), the ‘development buzz’ (Collier, 2007) generated by rockstars and the ‘make poverty history campaign’ has all died down, it seems quite agood time to reflect on the ‘achievements’ to date. These campaigns were precededby the UN millennium development goals on poverty alleviation, which in turn werefollowed by the Report of the Commission for Africa. More than a third of the waytowards the 2015 goal, it is clear as Salim Lone suggests, that the developed world isfalling behind on its commitments to African countries and the plight of manyAfricans is getting worse. According to Lone, no sub-Saharan African country hasmet the criteria on poverty alleviation and it would have been unthinkable

that Western Governments, which gleefully presided over the creation of new classes of super-super rich, would use their considerable influence to push African leaders to pursue policieswhich would shift resources away from the rapacious national elites towards the poor … Norwas it likely the west would permit Africa to stray from the neo-liberal orthodoxies prescribedfor the continent by the World Bank and the IMF.

Readers of this journal would be familiar with the challenge and criticalengagement, which the Editorial Working Group has posed to the new orthodoxiesof ‘neo-liberalism’ and, in particular, the World Bank and IMF-sponsored structuraladjustment programmes (SAPs) in Africa. ROAPE, as a collective, has been in theforefront in challenging the assumptions and the ideological underpinnings ofSAPs by pointing to the devastating effects it has had on the life of ordinary Africans,their economies and societies in general. These policies that have generated wealthfor the elites and created economic growth in a few countries, have brought misery toa billion people for two decades. Furthermore, we have pointed to the fact that neo-liberalism does not constitute a single coherent ideology, but a hotchpotch ofeconomic and political diktats which in turn have weakened the state in Africa asmore and more of its functions are outsourced to NGOs, creating ‘less order, lesspeace and less security’ for the mass of the African people (Ferguson: 2006:39).

‘Democracy’ was dangled as a carrot to the African masses only to be negated astheir votes became worthless as the powerful nations supported compradorelements within the political classes regardless of how power was achieved – as isthe case in the recent elections in Nigeria. The journal has also drawn attention of thereal struggle of the African people against structural adjustment programmes andthe attempts by the comprador classes to intensify their oppression through theconditionality embedded in SAPs. ROAPE has published articles on Africanpeople’s attempt to create autonomous political and economic spaces (such as theparallel or informal markets) – free not only from a kleptocratic state, but also from

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418 Review of African Political Economy

the worse excesses of SAPs which has rendered the state a ‘political monument’.This journal has also catalogued examples of the anti-SAPs struggles waged byvarious groups and communities, such as anti-SAP revolts and ‘IMF riots’. Otherfeatures of these struggles include: smuggling of commodities across nationalborders; constructing a system of multiple modes of livelihood; and directchallenges to the state through support for social movements challenging statehegemony.

The triumphal arrival of neo-liberals, steeped in anti-dirigisme and the privilegingof the market, accompanied the very manifestation of SAPs as the prognosis ofAfrican economic ailments in the ‘lost decade’ of the 1980s. Neo-liberal marketdriven ideology was based on a one-dimensional prognosis to what is a complexproblem facing African leaders, but reduced simply to ‘market failure’. The mantraof ‘whatever your economic ailment, deflate’ demonstrates confidence in the marketat the expense of public institutions (Stiglitz, 2002). The latter point is particularlytrue of political institutions which had to bear the brunt of challenges from PaulCollier’s ‘Bottom Billion’ (Collier, 2007; Lawrence, 2007:169-176) in their quest tosurvive SAPs. Writing about the Fund, Stiglitz (2002) has argued that it has movedaway from its original purpose, which was:

to put international pressure on countries to have more expansionary policies than they wouldchoose of their own accord. Today, the Fund has reversed course, putting pressure oncountries, particularly developing ones, to implement more contractionary policies than thesecountries would choose of their own accord.

Furthermore, Stiglitz observed that the absence of a coherent and reasonablycomplete theory has led to policies, which exacerbate the very problems that the Fundwas set up to resolve. These policies (anti-dirigisme and deflations) do not endearAfrican states to the Fund or Bank as ‘shoots of development’ and early post-independence innovative social care systems (as was the case with Mozambique)were destroyed at the altar of neo-liberal dogma.

Neo-liberals demanded the rolling back of the state, which was demonised as a‘lame leviathan’, a ‘vampire’, whilst as Bjorn Beckman has been at pains to warn inthe pages of this journal: ‘the neo-liberal project seeks to de-legitimise the state as thelocus of nationalist aspirations and resistance’ (Beckman, 1993:20), by drawing ontheories of ‘rent-seeking’, ‘patrimonialism’ and state autonomy, whilst obscuringthe massive role of state power in the economic domination of imperialism oftransnational corporations. The African state was crudely contrasted with thedevelopmental states of Asia as being too interventionist, thereby producing asoporific civil society, whilst in fact the problem is not the depth of the intervention,but the quality.

Given this perceived pathology of the African state, the idea of a ‘developmentalstate’ was treated with disdain. What was required as far as the IFIs were concernedwas a surrogate state, which was manifest in a number of ways. The first potentialroute was by strengthening the grip of NGOs (Non-Governmental Organisations)(originating from within the imperialist centres) on African societies, which wouldincreasingly appropriate the role and functions of the dysfunctional state. Second,the state could be captured by direct intervention by external powers, as was the casein Somalia by the US in 1993 with disastrous consequences, or more positively byBritain in war-torn Sierra Leone in May 2000. A point which this journal hascontinued to stress is that imperialist designs are always dynamic and ever

Editorial: Imperial, Neo-Liberal Africa? 419

changing, with the sole objective of making the world safe for capital. Thus, in hiscontribution in this issue, Nikola Kojucharov takes a critical look at the World Banksupervised Chad-Cameroon pipeline project, pointing to the way the World Banktried to appropriate a major function of the Chadian state, namely the ability to levytaxation, what Kojucharov calls, ‘foreign interference in the economic sovereignty ofa nation’. Clearly, the ability of the state to levy taxation is crucial for its survival: notonly to deliver social citizenship and the social contract, but also to placate retainersand others who are in the service of the state. Indeed, much of the conflict incontemporary Africa stems from the inability of the state to provide socialcitizenship and to finance the patron client network or ‘shadow state’. To deny thestate access to taxation directly is to put obstacles to socio-political reproduction andto threaten stability and the very existence of the system.

Whilst interrogating the concept of ‘resource curse’, that is, the tendency for resourcewealth to impair the economic and political development of a resource endowedcountry, Kojucharov shows that oil has not improved the standard of living of theChadian people, with the majority continuing to live on less than $1 a day. In orderto discipline the state, the Bank stripped the Chadian state of its sovereignty, whichbecame a major source of conflict between the political class and the officials fromthe Bank. Kojucharov argues that underlying the unsuccessful conversion of oilrevenues into poverty reduction was not simply the World Bank’s policy choice (asmost critics have suggested), but that the project was hindered more by the externalnature of the World Bank’s policy intervention than by any particular design flaws.In his view, for the project to achieve its goal of poverty reduction, a policy rethink iscalled for to do away with the complex regulatory frameworks, which hinder thestrengthening of institutional capacity.

The case of the Chad-Cameroon pipeline points to the transmogrification ofimperialism: not only was the policy designed (like SAPs) to hem Africa even moreclosely onto the accumulation needs of global capitalism as producers of rawmaterials and markets for manufactured goods from the imperialist centres, but theagreement was specifically set up to ensure that oil continues to flow to reduceWestern dependence on supplies from the conflictual Arabian Gulf and to ensurecapital flow to the multinationals, like Esso, that invest in Chad’s oil industry.

In the era of the ‘war on terrorism’, Africa and her natural resources have nowassumed major importance, not least because the imperialist centres now have tofind an alternative to the perilous Arabian peninsular. Furthermore, the arrival ofnew players and new markets for African raw materials – namely the Chinese andIndian markets – have helped to valorise African raw materials in the eyes of theimperialist nations. These new actors, in particular the Chinese, have little time forthe ‘niceties’ of economic and political conditionality, a major weapon in hemmingAfrica onto the web of imperialist design. In short, the presence of the Chinese in the‘new scramble for Africa’s resources’ has forced the IFIs to rethink the policy ofconditionality in its old format and to reconstitute neo-colonialism. The case of Chadpoints to this new design in neo-colonial solutions, which now poses a direct threatto the sovereignty of resource rich states.

Autesserre’s article is a serious critique of the mono-causal explanation for Africanconflict offered by Collier and his associates (2000:91-112) that ‘conflicts are far morelikely to be caused by economic opportunities than by grievance’ (p. 91). Sierra Leoneis often quoted as the example par excellence of this thesis with access to blooddiamonds seen as the major cause of the war. In reality, the scramble for the


country’s diamonds came much later in the history of the war, whilst the underlyingcauses had to do with poor governance, political and social exclusion and an ineptpolitical leadership (Zack-Williams, 1999:143-162). Similarly, Autesserre arguesthat ‘violence in the Congo, although motivated in part by “greed“ (the exploitationof natural resources), (also), it is motivated by grievances: issues related to socialstatus, identity and political power.’

She identifies three main reasons for Rwanda’s intervention in the Congo: the threatposed to Rwanda’s sovereignty by the Rwanda Hutu militia in the DRC; the problemof ethnic hatred against Congolese Rwandophones; finally the appeal of the Kivus’mineral resources, which attracted a large number of Congolese and non-Congolesealike. But she goes on to argue that the greed not grievance argument is toomechanistic and economistic, without looking at the various levels of grievances: theregional, national and local. Whilst regional, national and local dimensions toconflicts are often closely interlinked, yet to ignore local causation or localresolutions tantamount to sewing the seeds for future conflicts.

The Chad experiment raises the thorny question of the future of the nation-state inAfrica, which is also the issue discussed in Jacob’s briefing on the poor in adevelopmental state such as South Africa. As Ferguson (2006) has observed, there isa departure from the ‘thick’ Zambian (developmental) model that failed in the 1980s,towards a private model of the state that is emerging across the oil states. This herefers to as:

the ‘thin’ Angolan non-nation-state developing natural resources, but enclaved mineral richpatches efficiently exploited by flexible private firms, with security provided on an ‘as need’basis by specialised corporations, while the elite cliques who are nominal holders of sovereigntycertify the industry’s legality and international legitimacy in exchange for a piece of action(Ibid. p.207).

Furthermore, in discussing the ‘non-governmental’ states, such as the DemocraticRepublic of Congo which he sees as the extreme of the principle of deregulation,Ferguson points out that in weakly governed African states, the question ofsovereignty is not one about effective control of national borders or the monopoly ofthe legitimate use of violence, but the ‘ability to provide contractual legal authoritythat can legitimate the extractive work of transnational firms’ (Ibid.).

The deregulation mentioned above is partly the result of neo-Liberal attack on theAfrican state, which led to the call for privatisation, an important conditionalitydesigned largely to privilege metropolitan capital in its quest for horizontal andvertical integration. It is also highly functional in creating and sustaining acomprador class, which will continue to defend the interests of its class ally, theruling class of the metropolis. Mayher and Macdonald’s article draws attention tothe nature of the discourse on privatisation in South Africa, in particular, the waythe media deals with these issues. Unlike many other countries in Africa, there hasbeen relatively little outright privatisation with Public Private Partnership (PPP)being the most popular form of privatisation. Under this system, the state typicallyowns the service assets, with the service being wholly or partly delivered by a privatecompany. One can only speculate as to the popularity of PPP in South Africa, acountry with a well-developed infrastructure and a good crop of technocrats andprofessionals. One should not lose sight of the racial divide in South Africa, even inthe post-apartheid era as the ANC Government embarks on a policy of socialengineering to rectify historical disadvantages. Clearly, the outright sale of state

assets will reduce the state’s ability to deliver equity, as only the economicallyprivileged would be able to buy such assets, thus strengthening the economic-colourdivide; the existence of a strong labour movement that emerged out of the liberationstruggle and a very vibrant civil society may have acted as a brake on any swift,outright privatisation.

The paper by Hansen and Bradbury and the briefing by Usman Tar and Zack-Williams examine new democracies in Somaliland and Nigeria respectively. Thefirst on Somaliland’s tentative steps towards democratisation raises questionsabout the gerrymandering and succession of ‘freely’ elected leaders. The authorsnote that the future challenges for democratic renewal in Somaliland include theshift from clan-based forms of political representation and competition to one basedon political parties as forums of political representation and competition in apredominantly rural society. Somaliland is often seen as a mono-ethnic society andas such able to avoid the exigencies of politics in multi-ethnic society as the rest of thecontinent.

The briefing on the Nigerian elections raises some similar questions. It points to themachination of the outgoing President to get his chosen candidate elected amidwidespread intimidation, violence and the stuffing of ballot boxes with papers andother electoral irregularities. The level of violence and fear is reflected in the dramaticdrop in the price of machetes following the end of voting. Many foreign observerscondemned the manner in which the elections were conducted and called for a re-run, but despite these allegations, Britain and the United States welcomed theelection of Musa Yara’ Dua, a conservative politician from the North and the hand-chosen successor of outgoing President Olusegun Obansanjo. The new Presidentrepresents ‘a safe pair of hands’ who would co-operate with the US and the formercolonial power, Britain in the ‘war on terrorism’ externally, and domestically.Furthermore, his ‘Godfather’ (a concept that the Nigerian Left have appropriated torefer to wealthy sponsors of patrons), former President Olusegun Obasanjo, couldrest assured that he would not be called to account for his stewardship by hissuccessor. This recent development supports Lubeck, Watts and Lipschutz’s (IPR,2007:1) argument that:

Nigeria has been a particular target of this shifting energy policy, not only as a strategic ally inthe region but also as a ‘front line’ state in the Global War on Terrorism.

The crisis in the oil rich Delta region, where fighting has been continuous, withforeign oil workers and members of their families being captured as hostages byvarious rebel movements, has raised major concerns about the security of oilsupplies from the region. Thus, whilst Obansanjo never got approval from the US orBritain for a third term in office, had they questioned the outcome of the electionsmore strongly, it may well have encouraged rebels in the Delta region to step up theircampaign against the Federal State. Furthermore, Nigeria is an important member ofthe West African Oil Triangle, which also includes Equatorial Guinea and Gabon,accounting for about 15 per cent of daily imports into the United States (Ibid. p.4), thefigure is expected to rise to 25 per cent by 2025 (NIC, 2000). As Ferguson hasobserved, such findings challenge the assumption of Afro-pessimists that Africa isdefined by its marginalisation and its irrelevance, but is defined by its irrelevance.What is being played out on the continent of the ‘bottom billion’ is a new form ofimperial neo-liberal engagement.

Editorial: Imperial, Neo-Liberal Africa? 421


Bibliography

Beckman, B. (1993) ‘The Liberation of CivilSociety: Neo-Liberal Ideology and PoliticalTheory’, Review of African Political Economy,November, No. 58, p.20.

Collier, P. (2007), The Bottom Billion: Why ThePoorest are Failing and What Can be Done, Oxford:Oxford University Press; (2000), ‘Doing WellOut of War: An Economic Perspective’ in M.Berdal & D. Malone, Greed and Grievance:Economic Agendas in Civil Wars, London: LynneRienner, London, pp.91-112.

Ferguson, J. (2006) Global Shadows: Africa in TheNeo-Liberal World Order, Duke University Press,Durham & London, p.39

International Policy Report, ‘ConvertingInterests: ‘US Energy Security and the Securingof Nigerian Democracy’, February 2007, p.1.

Lawrence , P. (2007),‘Collier on War and Peacein Africa: Statistics in Command’, Review ofAfrican Political Economy, Vol. 34, No111, March2007, pp.169-176.

Lone, Salim, ‘The Stolen African Voice’,Guardian, Wednesday 4 July 2007.

National Intelligence Council, 2000, GlobalTrends 2015: A Dialogue About the Future withNongovernmental Experts, NIC No. 2000-02,Washington, DC: US National IntelligenceCouncil, as quoted in J. Ferguson, (2006), GlobalShadows: Africa in The Neo-Liberal World Order,Durham & London: Duke University Press,p.195.

Stiglitz, J. (2002), Globalization and Its Discontents,London: Penguin Books; (2002), Globalization andIts Discontents, London: Penguin Books.

Zack-Williams, A. B. (1999) ‘Sierra Leone: ThePolitical Economy of Civil War, 1991-98’, ThirdWorld Quarterly: Journal of Emerging Areas,pp.143-62.


D. R. Congo: Explaining Peace BuildingFailures, 2003-2006

Séverine Autesserre

As a corrective to the emphasis on national and international reconciliationduring peace building processes, I develop here a conceptual analysis of thedynamics of violence during the transition from war to peace and democracyin the Democratic Republic of Congo between 2003 and 2006. I locate thesources, at the local, national, and regional levels, of continued local violenceduring this transition. Through an analysis of the situation in the provincesof North Kivu and North Katanga, I illustrate how local dynamics interactedwith the national and regional dimensions of the conflict. I demonstrate that,after a national and regional settlement was reached, some local conflicts overland and political power increasingly became self-sustaining, autonomous,and disconnected from the national and regional tracks. Thus, peace buildingaction was required not only at the national and regional levels but also locally.

Cet article plaide pour une correction de l’attention exclusive portée à la réconciliationnationale et régionale lors des processus de paix. Je développe une analyse conceptuelle desmécanismes de la violence durant les trois années officiellement consacrées à la transition dela guerre à la paix et à la démocratie en République Démocratique du Congo (de 2003 à2006). J’identifie, au niveau local, national et régional, les raisons pour lesquelles la violencea perduré localement au cours de cette période. J’analyse la situation dans les provinces duNord Kivu et du Nord Katanga pour illustrer l’interaction entre les mécanismes de laviolence situés à ces différents niveaux. Je démontre que, après la signature d’accords de paixnationaux et régionaux, certains conflits locaux portant sur les terres et le pouvoir politiquese sont progressivement dissociés des processus nationaux et régionaux et sont devenusautonomes. Les programmes de résolution de conflits auraient donc du adresser les sources detensions au niveau local tout autant que les problèmes nationaux et régionaux.

A year after the war in the Democratic Republic of Congo officially ended on 30 June2003, more than one thousand civilians continued to die every day. Most of thedeaths were caused by disease and malnutrition and could have been prevented ifoutbursts of violence had not impeded access to humanitarian aid, especially in theeast (International Rescue Committee, 2004). In April 2004, for example, the UnitedNations (UN) Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs wrote thefollowing situation report:

The security situation was the most worrying this month in North-Kivu, South-Kivu andKatanga Provinces in the Eastern region of the Democratic Republic of Congo … As aconsequence of the fighting and increased tension in these three regions, approximately 30-35,000 people were estimated displaced over the course of this month. In addition to thedisplacement, [the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs] continued to



receive reports of massacres, cannibalism, rapes, looting, extortion and other serious violationsof human rights being committed by various armed groups, leaving questions as to whether ornot the protection situation for civilians living in [the Congo] has improved since the warofficially ended last year.

Even though the situation improved somewhat in 2005 and 2006, similar reports oftensions and local hostilities could be found in all weekly and monthly UNhumanitarian situation reports covering the Congolese transition from war to peaceand democracy (June 2003 – December 2006). What were the reasons for thecontinuation of such a high level of violence?

In June 2003, a settlement seemed to have been reached at the regional and nationallevels. The foreign troops that withdrew from the Congo in 2002 and 2003 officiallyremained out of Congolese territory. Normal diplomatic ties, including the exchangeof ambassadors, resumed between former enemies. Important developments alsotook place at the national level, such as the official reunification of the country, theformation of a unified government, the preparation for democratic elections, and aprogressive integration of the different armed groups into a single national army.

However, local conflict – at the level of the village, the district, or the community –persisted in the eastern Congo. Political, economic, and social antagonismsgenerated frequent massacres, massive human rights violations, and populationdisplacement. Although some progress was made compared to the situation duringthe war, a number of areas in the eastern Congo remained very unsafe, and manyCongolese continued to suffer from violence waged by one of the armed groups stillactive. Why did the national and regional settlements fail to effect peace at the locallevel?

Many of the international actors I interviewed, especially high-ranking diplomatsand UN staff members, do not believe that local causes played a decisive role insustaining national and regional violence during the war and in the post-warperiod. During the transition, diplomats, UN staff, and many non-governmentalorganisations worked mostly on the national and regional cleavages, mediatingamong, and when necessary putting pressure on, the main Congolese, Rwandan,and Ugandan political and military leaders. Their role at the local level was oftennonexistent (Autesserre, 2006).

This article argues for a correction of the emphasis on national and internationalreconciliation during peace-building processes. National and international vio-lence obviously factor into the establishment of peace. However, focusing on thesetensions at the expense of local conflicts is dangerous because local dynamics areimportant triggers of violence and can become disconnected from the national andinternational tracks. Nationally- and internationally-focused conflict resolutionoverlooks important local dynamics that threaten order – or prevent its implementa-tion in the first place.

The article will start with an analytical framework, then I shall seek to locate sourcesat the local, national, and regional levels, of continued local violence during thetransition. I emphasise the importance and distinctiveness of local agendas in theCongo as well as the local dimension of problems usually considered as purelynational and regional (i.e., the status of the Rwandophone minority and thepresence of the rebel Rwandan Hutu militias). Furthermore, I provide a briefoverview of the situation in North Kivu and North Katanga, in order to documenthow the interlocking nature of these tensions caused violence to spread from one

level to the other. I also demonstrate that, after a national and regional settlementwas reached, some local conflicts over land, political power, and ethnic antagonismincreasingly became self-sustaining, autonomous, and disconnected from thenational and regional issues.

I draw on field observations in Kinshasa and the provinces of Katanga and theKivus conducted between 2001 and 2006; document analysis; and more than 280interviews conducted with Congolese politicians, military officers, diplomats, andcivil society actors, victims of violence, staff of international organisations, andforeign observers – in the Congo, France, Belgium, New York, and Washington, DC.Given the substantial degree of political tension and uncertainty surrounding thethemes of this article, and given the culture of secrecy pervasive in UN anddiplomatic circles, most of the people I interviewed preferred to remain anonymous.For this reason, I reference only the data obtained through on-record interviews or inpublic sources. Unless otherwise indicated, the rest of the information presented inthis article comes from the author’s field observations and anonymous interviews.

Analytical FrameworkThe paucity of research on the impact of local violence on the viability of the peaceprocesses constitutes a significant gap in the literature on conflict and conflictresolution. It raises such questions as: What are the local foundations of peaceprocesses? How, precisely, do micro-local dynamics contribute to the failure of anational peace agreement?

Academics and practitioners often share the same flawed interpretation of conflict(Kalyvas, 2003). Most analysts perceive local dynamics ‘as a mere (and ratherirrelevant) local manifestation of the central cleavage’ and local actors as mere‘replicas of central actors’ (Kalyvas, 2003:481). Thus, academics who attempt toexplain the success or failure of peace agreement implementation largely neglect thelocal preconditions for civil war settlements. They usually focus on macro-levelparameters, such as the commitment to peace from a ‘major or regional power’(Hampson, 1996; Downs & Stedman, 2002), the role of international peacekeepingoperations (Hampson, 1996; many contributors to Stedman, Rothchild et al. 2002;Walter, 2002), or the existence of signed peace agreements and power-sharing pacts(Hampson, 1996; Walter, 2002). Most of these studies also analyse each warringparty as a monolith (Wood, 2002:5), overlooking the impact of intra-party disputes,which, in fact, have crucial consequences (Stedman, 1997; Zartman & Rasmussen,1997). They miss a critical point: local issues are specific and their dynamics aredistinct from those at the national level (Kalyvas, 2003, 2006).

To illuminate the multiple layers and connections among conflicts at different levels,I build on Kalyvas’s (2003, 2006) analysis that local and national dimensions ofviolence interact through two distinct mechanisms: cleavage and alliance. ‘Cleav-age’ refers to the ‘overarching issue dimension’ – this is, for example, ideology,ethnicity, religion, or class – that links actors at the centre to actors on the ground(Kalyvas, 2003:476). ‘Alliance’ is a concept that links the central actors’ quest fornational power to the local actors’ quest for local advantages. It ‘entails a transactionbetween supralocal and local actors, whereby the former supply the latter withexternal muscle, thus allowing them to win decisive local advantage; in exchangethe former rely on local conflicts to recruit and motivate supporters and obtain localcontrol, resources, and information’ (Kalyvas, 2003:486).

D. R. Congo: Explaining Peace Building Failures, 2003-2006 425


In so doing, I challenge a prominent mono-causal interpretation of the Congoleseconflict and transition to peace. Building on Collier and Hoeffler’s ‘Greed andGrievance’ argument (2001), journalists and academics alike often reduce themotivations for violence in the Congo to a desire to exploit the massive Congolesenatural resources (see for example Naidoo, 2003; Olsson, 2004, and Samset, 2002 forthe war period and Global Witness, 2005 and Nest, 2006 for the transition). Iconsider not only explanations of violence based on resources (or other economicagendas) but also on political and social causes. I show that violence in the Congo,although motivated in part by ‘greed’ (the exploitation of natural resources), is alsomotivated by ‘grievances’: issues related to social status, identity, and politicalpower.

Identifying the Different Loci of Violence during the Transition

Regional Causes of Local ViolenceIn March 2005, the UN Security Council denounced Rwanda’s and Uganda’scontinuing involvement in supporting the armed groups responsible, among otherthings, for the perpetuation of violence in the Congo. In particular, Rwandan troopscontinued to operate in the Kivus and in 2004 the tactics of hit-and-run becamecommon along the border regions (International Crisis Group, 2005:21-22; Institutefor Security Studies, 2004; Romkema, 2004; UN Security Council, 2004). Threeimportant incentives were at the root of the Rwandan involvement in the Congoduring the transition: first, the threat posed by the continued presence of RwandanHutu militias; second, the problem of ethnic hatred against CongoleseRwandophones; and third, the appeal of the Kivus’ mineral resources.

During the transition, armed groups affiliated with the Democratic Forces for theLiberation of Rwanda (Forces Démocratiques pour la Libération du Rwanda, or FDLR), aRwandan rebel group composed mostly of ethnic Hutus, remained heavily presentin the Kivus.1 They included combatants from the 1994 genocide as well as familymembers of the combatants, refugees, and political opponents forced to flee byKagame’s crackdown on opposition parties. The Rwandan government oftencomplained about this continued FDLR presence in the Congo and emphasised thethreat it posed to its country. Kigali, therefore, threatened several times – notably inNovember 2004 and in April 2005 – to invade the Congo again should Congoleseand international actors fail to solve the FDLR problem. However, only a smallnumber of FDLR had been active during the genocide and the relatively small groupof FDLR combatants remaining in the Congolese forests did not seem to pose a realdanger to Rwanda. Therefore, many Congolese and international observers claimedthat Kigali complained about the FDLR presence in the Congo purely to find apretext to come back into the Kivus in order to pursue Rwanda’s true interests:protecting Rwandophones and exploiting the Congo’s resources.

‘Rwandophone’ means Kinyarwanda-speaking people. In the Congolese context,the term is used to refer to Congolese of Rwandan ancestry (both Hutus and Tutsis).Although many of them descend from families who arrived in the Congo before orduring the colonisation period, or shortly after independence (1960), theirCongolese citizenship has been hotly contested for the past fifty years. These ethnictensions have led to local ethnic massacres, such as in Masisi in 1993, and they wereone of the reasons for the 1998 war. During the transition, the members of theRwandophone community of the Congo were subject to considerable discrimination

and abuse, and many Congolese groups contested their very right to live onCongolese territory. This hatred fed Rwanda’s alleged concerns for a potential‘genocide’ of Rwandophone communities. Several times during the transition –notably after the May-June 2004 fighting in Bukavu and the August 2004 massacrein Gatumba – Rwanda threatened to go back into the Congo if the CongolesePresident, Joseph Kabila did not take appropriate measures to protect theRwandophone minority and stop the anti-Rwandophone propaganda. The ‘indig-enous’ Congolese – as ethnic groups that are native to the eastern Congo refer tothemselves in order to emphasise that ethnic groups such as Rwandophone areforeign – felt deep resentment toward Rwanda because of its lengthy occupation ofthe eastern Congo. Thus these Rwandan threats reinforced the anti-Rwandophonefeelings among the vast majority of the Congolese people and led to furtherdiscrimination and violence against Rwandophones.

Economic motivations also seemed largely to account for Rwanda’s interest in theeastern Congo. UN and non-governmental organisations noted the discrepanciesbetween the very limited mining resources of Uganda and Rwanda, and theirmassive exports of cassiterite, coltan, tin, and gold (Global Witness, 2005:4, 24-26;Pourtier, 2004:4; UN Security Council, 2005b: par 85-86). Global Witness’s (2005)case study on cassiterite documented how the Rwandan state was involved in thisillegal trafficking: first as the prime beneficiary (the state-owned company Redemibeing the major exporter of tin and cassiterite); and second as an armed actor able tosecure mining sites when necessary. In addition, Rwandan officials and civiliansalso benefited from the trafficking because of the ‘important business links’ they haddeveloped with members of the Democratic Rally for Democracy – Goma(Rassemblement Congolais pour la Démocratie – Goma, or RCD-G), the rebel group thatcontrolled most of the eastern Congo during the war and was transformed into apolitical party during the transition. This led to sporadic Rwandan involvement,aimed at influencing or supervising Congolese allies. The six-year conflict hadenabled foreign countries to set up systems of exploitation that could continuefunctioning through Congolese proxies even after the Rwandan or Ugandan armieshad withdrawn.

The combination of these security, political, and economic interests led Rwanda toactively support several armed groups responsible for local violence in the easternCongo. At the end of 2003, Rwanda resumed military support to several Kivumilitias (International Crisis Group, 2004). Furthermore, Rwandan officials sup-ported the renegade military officers Laurent Nkunda and Jules Mutebusi duringthe May-June 2004 fighting in Bukavu and afterwards, helping them recruit soldiersand providing them with heavy arms and ammunition, uniforms, money, and a rearbase in Rwanda to regroup and retreat when necessary (UN Security Council, 2004).Rwanda also helped the North Kivu Governor, Eugene Seruphuli (a Rwandophoneaffiliated with the RCD-G), arm Rwandophone civilians in Masisi and constituteadditional local defence militias.

National Causes of Local ViolenceIf regional agendas continued to cause violence during the transition, nationaldimensions remained similarly influential. The Transitional Government wasmostly characterised by a distrust among the representatives of the different‘components’ of the transition institutions. These were the eight most powerfulpolitical or military groups at the outset of the civil war, and they had received an



equal share of representation in the government, the parliament, and the nationaladministration. The government did not work as a team to manage the transitionand lead the country, but rather as competitive factions bent on overtaking oneanother and on enhancing the political, military, symbolic, and financial position oftheir own parties. Militarily, each component strived to maintain control over itsformer military assets under the umbrella of the newly unified army, the ArmedForces of the Democratic Republic of Congo (Forces Armées de la RépubliqueDémocratique du Congo, or FARDC). The internal antagonisms were such that thegovernment stopped functioning as an entity during the third year of the transition.

This continuation of high-level hostilities created dire local consequences. In theeastern provinces, the antagonisms between Kabila and the RCD-G fuelled theresistance of all former warring parties to the army integration process. Thepersistent distrust and lack of integration generated a highly volatile situation inthose territories that continued to be controlled by troops affiliated with differentfactions, and led to both small-scale battles and several bouts of large-scale fighting.The local population was the first to suffer from this fighting: each armed group usedviolence to deter villagers from supporting some other faction.

The political struggle at the national level also fuelled the hatred againstRwandophones; this hatred remained a pervasive source of violence in the easternprovinces. In Kinshasa, newspapers every day disparaged the Rwandophonecommunity and their political party, the RCD-G: both were presented as the sourceof the war and of all the problems in the transition, and they were depicted as the‘Trojan horse’ of the abhorred Rwandese. Leaders from all side of the politicalspectrum defended a similar point of view, apparently for the sake of electoraladvantage. Fuelling ethnic hatred spared politicians the need to develop realpolitical platforms. Rwandophone-bashing was an easy way to show one’spatriotism and to appeal to the majority of the Congolese population. This led to avicious circle: existing ethnic tensions encouraged national politicians to use anti-Rwandophone rhetoric, which further stirred ethnic hatred, which was animportant cause of local violence in the eastern Congo.

In addition, the struggle within the Transitional Government blocked the decision-making process. This, added to the strong interests most representatives had installing the transition process (to retain their positions of authority and continue toenrich their coffers, or to benefit from continued immunity from prosecution), causedthe transition to progress at a very slow pace. It meant a continued absence of stateauthority in the east, especially in the rural areas. In the absence of state authority,the justice and police forces acted with impunity. Bias, corruption, and inefficiencywere so widespread that these sectors lost all credibility with the Congolese people.At the same time, the lack of legitimate state authority in the east encouraged thecontinuation of violence, which seemed the easiest road to power and wealth. Thuscivil as well as violent crime (including rape and kidnapping) persisted in manyareas, unhindered by the non-functioning forces of law and order.

The conditions of impunity and the lack of legitimate state authority in the east alsofacilitated the illegal exploitation of resources. During the transition, the Congolesearmed forces, the Rwandan rebel militias FDLR, the Congolese local self-defencemilitias called Mai Mai, armed forces of the former rebel movement RCD-G, as wellas pro-Ugandan, pro-Rwandan, and criminal groups remained involved in illegalmining (Global Witness, 2005; International Crisis Group, 2005; Romkema, 2004;UN Security Council, 2005a, 2005b). Large quantities of cassiterite, coltan, gold,

diamonds, and palm nut crossed the borders every day and evaded the taxauthorities. This situation, in turn, fuelled the absence of state authority in the east:first, by reinforcing the reluctance of many local strongmen to work in good faithwith the central authorities; and second, by depriving the Transitional Governmentof important resources that could have helped it extend its authority.

It also generated local violence in three different ways. First, national actorscompeted among themselves as well as with local and foreign armed groups(notably Mai Mai and FDLR) for the control of mining sites. This led to frequentfighting over the key mining areas of the Kivus (Global Witness, 2005:4, 8, 16).Second, illicit exploitation of resources enabled all armed groups to finance theirwar efforts, which further fuelled armed conflict (Staibano, 2005:3; UN SecurityCouncil, 2005c). Third, control of mining sites by national or local armed groupscaused massive violence against the local population. Global Witness (2005:10)documents that in the mining areas of North and South Kivu, all armed groupscommitted ‘colossal’ abuses against non-combatants, including ‘killing, rape,torture, arbitrary arrests, intimidation, mutilation, [and] the destruction or pillage ofprivate property.’ These abuses were ‘integrally linked to natural resources … asthey were employed as methods by which to gain control either over resource-richareas or over the ability to [exploit them].’

In addition, officials in Kinshasa embezzled funds earmarked for the armyintegration and for the soldiers’ pay. As a result, the soldiers’ commanders did nothave the resources to remunerate their troops adequately or provide them with basicsupplies and therefore encouraged them to make a living off the local population.Thus all soldiers (belonging to all components) continued to prey on the localpopulation throughout the transition. This meant extorting the local residents,stealing all kinds of valuables in urban areas (money, mobile phones) and harvestsor cattle in rural areas, and beating, raping, torturing, killing, or imprisoning thosewho refused to comply. Abuses by soldiers trying to make a living were so widelyreported that they seemed to be the most common form of low-level violence in theeast.

Local Causes of ViolenceIf regional and national antagonisms continued to generate high levels of violence atthe local level, local conflict was also motivated by distinctly local causes. The maindifference between the war period and the transition was that, during the transition,these local agendas became increasingly autonomous from the national andregional tracks.

In the east, at the grassroots level, the problem was not only ‘the most obviousdivision, ‘everybody against the [Rwandophones]’ but also the ‘hundreds ofpotential divisions, of local problems,’ which were exploited by commanders andoften erupted in violence.2 One of the main actors at the local level was the Mai Maimilitias, local self-defence armed groups formed on the basis of ethnicity throughoutthe eastern Congo. The Mai Mai are officially considered a national actor (the MaiMai ‘movement’ sent ministers, deputies, and senators to the transition institutions),but Mai Mai groups have never been unified under a single command structure.During the transition, just as during the war, the Mai Mai ‘movement’ remained aloose network of very different militias following various – and often competing –leaders.



In North Kivu, South Kivu, and North Katanga, a mosaic of alliances and counteralliances separated the numerous ethnic groups in each province. The clan andethnic tensions were usually articulated in terms of social, economic, and politicalissues. Clannish, ethnic, political, and social identities remained extremely fluidduring the transition and individuals often switched allegiance from one group toanother as opportunities arose. The causes of the divisions were intertwined bothwith one another and with national and regional agendas.

Political antagonisms at the local level fuelled significant violence. Conflicts ofsuccession continued to generate tensions similar to those that had existed beforeand during the war. During the transition, these were further complicated by thecompetition between new and traditional authorities. During the war, manytraditional authorities (village, collectivity, or territory chiefs) had fled, either toescape ongoing violence or because an armed group had usurped their power. Afterthe war, the return of the traditional authorities to their territories generated a highlevel of hostility.

In the Osso and Bashali collectivities (North Kivu), the Hunde populationreportedly sided with the newly returned traditional chief, himself a Hunde, againstthe Hutu chiefs who had seized power during the war; in retaliation the Hutu chiefscommitted ‘a lot of abuses’ against the supporters of their opponents.3 Such conflictsbetween new and traditional authorities were not limited to North Kivu. One of themain problems linked to the repatriation of refugees from Tanzania to South Kivuwas the tension likely to arise with the return of traditional authorities to their areaof origin.4 Similarly, in Nyunzu (North Katanga), people living in the camps fordisplaced people were not the lowest-ranking members of their communities butrather families of local traditional authorities (notably village and collectivitychiefs). Ordinary citizens had been allowed to go back to their villages, but when thechiefs tried to do so, the Mai Mai soldiers who had usurped their power threatenedthem and forced them to leave again. Articles in the press suggested that thissituation was common throughout Katanga.

In addition to local conflict over traditional power, there was ethnic conflict overappointments in state institutions by transitional authorities. For example, in theShabunda territory (South Kivu) in 2004, the Mai Mai General Padiri (himself amember of the Tembo ethnic group), who was recognised as a leading figure in theMai Mai movement by the transitional authorities, reportedly appointed only MaiMai Tembo to important military and administrative positions. This led to severalsmall-scale fights between the Mai-Mai Tembo and the Mai-Mai Rega, until the MaiMai Rega retaliated by chasing the Mai Mai Tembo from Shabunda territory.

In most cases, such political tensions interfaced with economically motivatedhostilities. Political power often guarantees access to land and economic resources,while access to wealth means, in turn, the availability of resources to buy arms andreward troops and to secure political power. In particular, the land problems thathad led to massive local violence before and during the war (Mamdani, 2001; VanAcker & Vlassenroot, 2000; Willame, 1997) remained salient in the eastern Congoand often constituted the grassroots dimension of local conflicts (UN Mission in theCongo [Mission de l’Organisation des Nations Unies au Congo, MONUC] 2004).

In South Kivu, land issues were usually the most important source of conflict in ruralareas and further problems were expected with the return of refugees.5 In NorthKivu, land problems were ‘the main source of local conflicts’ in Masisi and an

important source of tension between RCD-G and Mai Mai groups stationed inWalikale in early 2004.6 In North Katanga, the Bembes reportedly attempted to takeover land in Holoholo and Kalanga areas. Local tensions over land sometimeserupted into open fighting, such as in Walikale (North Kivu) in June 2004, Bwerema(South Kivu) in December 2004, and Katogota (South Kivu) in November 2005. Theyalso greatly impeded the peaceful return of refugees and displaced persons becausethose in control of the land after the war threatened to use force to avoid giving it up.

As noted above, competition among fragmented militias for the control of naturalresources also remained a major cause of violence in the Kivus and North Katanga.Finally, the need to find the means of survival, and the lack of social opportunities,which had pushed many civilians to enrol in militias during the war (Van Acker &Vlassenroot, 2000), remained salient during the transition. Before the war, most ofthe Congolese population had faced massive poverty and unemployment. In theeast, this situation deteriorated further during the war. Children and teenagers whohad grown up during the war had not received proper schooling and thus were notwell-prepared for pursuing peaceful and productive activities. Land remainedscarce, so young people could not easily acquire fields for farming, and the economicinfrastructure was nonexistent. Outside intervention in the east continued to focuson humanitarian issues, and very few development projects were funded in theeastern provinces. In this context, being part of a militia remained the most profitableoption.

Militias also remained the only source of social mobility. Individuals and groups –such as the youth and the pygmies – who, because of the war, had attained a statusthat was previously denied to them, had strong incentives to perpetuate the violentsituation that had enabled them to reach a higher social position. Similarly, manyMai Mai chiefs knew that, should peace return to the Congo, they would lose theirstatus as all-powerful, kinglike leaders and become once again mere soldiers – oftenill-trained and illiterate. This was one of their main motivations for refusing to beintegrated into the army. This persistent violence compounded the danger faced bythose perceived as having wronged their neighbours or their communities duringthe war. It allowed the threat of retaliation to remain the main reason why, two yearsafter the beginning of the transition, many refugees and displaced persons hadfailed to return to their home villages in the Kivus and North Katanga.7

Local Dimensions of the FDLR ProblemThese economic and political issues often motivated local alliances with theRwandan rebel militias, the FDLR. Given the number of atrocities for which theFDLR is responsible, its leaders’ claims that their troops were often well integratedin the Kivus may have sounded like mere propaganda. However, the FDLR didbenefit from the support of many local strongmen.

The Mai Mai, their allies from the war period, often continued to collaborate with theFDLR in both the Kivus during the transition – hiding them, conducting businesswith them, or enlisting them in their factional fighting against other Mai Mai groups.During the transition, the FDLR even enrolled new allies: soldiers of the Congolesearmed forces previously loyal to President Joseph Kabila or to the former rebel leaderJean-Pierre Bemba. A UN official working with the FDLR (interviewed in 2005)reported that these Congolese soldiers were ‘afraid of the FDLR’ and thereforerefused to attack them. Because they also were not paid and were poorly disciplined,they were easily bribed by the FDLR into assisting them in taxing and looting the



Congolese population (such as in Shabunda territory) or in turning a blind eye totheir presence (such as in the South Kivu territories of Kilembwe and Lemera).

In addition to armed forces, local administrative authorities throughout the easternCongo also collaborated with the FDLR. In the Lubero and Walikale territories(North Kivu), for example, the authorities of the RCD-Kisangani/LiberationMovement largely tolerated the presence of FDLR members, provided they refrainedfrom raping and killing while they looted villages. In South Kivu, there wasimportant collusion and economic ties between FDLR and local authorities. Inplaces like Rutchuru, Lemera, and Kilembwe, Congolese inhabitants reportedlyaccepted the FDLR living on their territory as long as they refrained fromharassment.

The presence of FDLR in the Congo, which usually has been presented as a nationalor regional problem, was thus very much grounded in local dynamics, whichreinforced national and regional interaction. Local alliances were key to perpetuat-ing the FDLR presence on Congolese territory and the violence associated with it. Toa high ranking Rally-FDLR official (2005), Rwandan Hutu refugees ‘would not havebeen able to survive’ without the good relationships they had developed with thelocal population. FDLR groups were too small and too divided internally; they couldnot have remained on Congolese territory if they had been required to survive ontheir own while fighting back all Congolese military forces. On the contrary, supportby local armed groups enabled the Rwandan combatants to recruit allies, to fighttheir opponents, and to hide from the Congolese armed forces (usually formermembers of the Congolese Rally for Democracy) and UN troops determined to attackthem. That local authorities tolerated the FDLR on mining territories also enabledthe Rwandan militias to find the economic resources they needed to buy arms andcontinue fighting.8 Moreover, this local collaboration enhanced the quality of life forthe FDLR on Congolese territory and therefore diminished their incentives topeaceably return to Rwanda. Support by local authorities, local forces, andsometimes local populations allowed FDLR forces to live near Congolese villages. Inselected places such as Rutchuru, Shabunda, and Kilembwe, this enabled FDLRfamilies to trade goods and services with the surrounding population. In otherplaces, it provided the FDLR with the opportunity to live off the surroundingCongolese population through looting. Kidnappings, rapes, tortures, and massa-cres accompanied their raids on Congolese villages.

Local Dimensions of the Rwandophone IssueContrary to a commonly held belief, the problem of the Rwandophone minoritystatus, which had the potential of jeopardising the regional and national peacesettlements, also carried distinctively local stakes. Before the war, the Rwandophoneproblem was rooted in local conflicts around land and traditional power (Mamdani,2001; Willame, 1997). During the transition, Rwandophones’ claims on traditionalpolitical power – and their associated claims on land – continued to fuel anti-Rwandophone sentiments and to generate violence. Tensions were especially highin provinces where the Rwandophones constituted the largest ethnic group andthus could easily seize local power, such as in Masisi. In South Kivu, Rwandophoneswere a minority in all territories but their claim of entitlement to traditionalrepresentation also met with large resistance. There, the reason was that during thewar the rebel movement Congolese Rally for Democracy – Goma had carved up a fewterritories such as Minembwe where Banyamulenges (Rwandophones native to theSouth Kivu province) were the majority and could therefore rule the area. During the

transition the Banyamulenges refused to abide by the requests of the ‘indigenous’communities to return to the pre-war territorial arrangements.

All throughout South Kivu, these political and economic motivations weremultiplied exponentially by the departure of Banyamulenges from Uvira andBukavu in June 2004, after fighting took place there between Rwandophone andtroops of the newly unified Congolese Armed Forces. Those who fled vacated thehigh positions and nice houses they had acquired during the war. ‘Indigenous’Congolese took over these jobs and houses, refused to restore them to theBanyamulenges who returned in late 2004, and tried to discourage the refugees fromcoming back and threatening their new wealth and authority. Given these localpolitical and economic stakes, the return of the Banyamulenges who had fledgenerated many incidents of violence in 2004 and 2005. The most publicised onetook place in September 2004 when, after 160 Banyamulenge refugees (mostlywomen and children) were massacred in a refugee camp in Gatumba (Burundi),reportedly by Congolese militiamen, hundreds of Banyamulenge refugees tried toreturn to the Congo from Burundi. They were blocked at the border for several daysand obliged to stay in the ‘neutral zone’ between the two countries. The first groupthat succeeded in re-entering the Congo was stoned by an angry mob that reportedlyhad been organised by local authorities. After that incident, a few Banyamulengestrickled back into South Kivu, but many stayed in Burundi for over a year, afraid togo back.

In sum, during the transition, just as during the war, local violence was motivatednot only by top-down causes (regional or national) but also by bottom-up agendas,whose main instigators were villagers, traditional chiefs, community chiefs, orethnic leaders. The resulting violence was not coordinated on a large scale, butrather it was the product of fragmented, micro-level militias, who tried to advancetheir own agenda at the village or district level. The following section illuminates therelationships between regional, national, and local dimensions of violence in twoeastern provinces.

Interaction between Local, National & Regional Motivations:Understanding the Joint Production of ViolenceThere was an interaction between the local and the national and regional levels -namely alliances between local actors and national and regional actors. However,throughout the transition, local actors and local agendas became increasinglyautonomous and disconnected from the national and regional tracks. In North Kivu,contrary to the commonly held belief, local cleavages remained an important,autonomous source of violence. In North Katanga, local agendas were disconnectedfrom the national and regional tracks and they proved more influential thannational and regional issues in generating armed conflict. They led to clashes thatneither national nor regional actors could stop, which in turn could havejeopardised the regional and national settlements.

North Kivu: Master Cleavages & Local AlliancesDuring the transition, North Kivu (see map over) was marred by the combination oftensions among its eight ethnic communities – mostly caused by land andcitizenship issues – and by conflicts between the five armed groups present in theprovince (Democratic Rally for Democracy-Goma or RCD-G, Democratic Rally for



Democracy-Kisangani/Liberation Movement or RCD-K/ML and government forces,Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda or FDLR, Mai Mai, and local defenceforces). Most sources have characterised the violence in terms of the master ethniccleavage (Rwandophones versus other ethnic communities), neatly superimposedand running along the same dividing line as the political cleavage (Kabila versusRCD-G). This reading of the conflict overlooked the key role of local tensions ingenerating violence.

After large-scale fighting took place around Bukavu in June 2004 and the RCD-G lostcontrol of the South Kivu province, and while the political struggle between Kabilaand the RCD-G continued unabated throughout the whole Congo (in particular inKinshasa), the military conflict between these two enemies continued in one lastplace: North Kivu. The ‘Petit Nord’ (the southern part of North Kivu) remained thelast stronghold of the RCD-G. The former rebel movement maintained absolutecontrol there. The governor (Eugène Seruphuli) and the regional military com-mander were both RCD-G officials. Up until 2006, rank and files of the Congolesearmed forces were not enlisted from each component but instead were exclusivelyformer RCD-G soldiers. They were supported by the three-thousand-strong LocalDefence Forces, a predominantly Hutu militia that governor Seruphuli createdduring the war and that Rwandan forces trained. North Kivu’s financial revenuesremained in the province instead of going to the capital, and pro-RCD-Gcommunities continued to hold the economic and social power of the province. As aresult, from the Bukavu crisis onward, national politicians – except for thosebelonging to the RCD-G – thought of North Kivu as the exception: the province leastintegrated into the transition process and the last holdout, the place Kabila neededto take control of in order to unify the rest of the country. The regional dimension wasalso present – although less so than during the wars. Rwanda reportedly supportedthe RCD-G with its financial, military, and political might, and occasionallyengaged in fighting against the ethnic Nandes, the Mai Mai, and the rebel Rwandanmilitias alongside RCD-G troops.

In addition to the soldiers that it progressively managed to send to North Kivu, theKabila government’s strength in its struggle against the RCD-G in this provincecame in large part from the allies it had there: the Democratic Rally for Democracy-Kisangani/Liberation Movement or RCD-K/ML, which kept the RCD-G busy on thenorthern front (along the same front line as during the war); and the Mai Mai, whichfought against the RCD-G from within its area of control. Importantly, during thetransition both of these allies were anti-RCD-G for provincial and local reasonsrather than because of any convictions about the master conflict between Kabila andthe RCD-G.

Indeed, since colonisation, North Kivu had progressively seen a strong polarisationbetween its two most populous ethnic groups, the Banyarwandas (Rwandophonesfrom the North Kivu province) and the Nandes, over the control of the province(Willame, 1997). During the war, the elites of these competing ethnic groups eachcontrolled half of the province and allied themselves with different warring parties– the RCD-K/ML and Kabila for the Nandes, the RCD-G for the Banyarwandas.During the first months of the transition, the antagonism had reached such a pointthat the Banyarwandas and Nandes suspected each other of harbouring plans toeradicate the other. In May 2004, the province was finally reunified administrativelyand put under the leadership of Eugene Seruphuli. However, this did not assuagethe tensions between Banyarwandas and Nandes. On the contrary, members of non-

Rwandophone ethnic groups living in Goma complained that the RCD-G’s rule hada strong ethnic flavour, and it continued to be associated with Banyarwandadomination.9 As a result, up until the end of the transition, Nande Mai Mai groupsremained extremely active in the ‘Grand Nord’ for fear of a potential Banyarwandainvasion from the south. Despite administrative reunification, the front line betweenRCD-G and RCD-K/ML forces (allied with Rwanda’s and Kabila’s troops,respectively) remained active. Numerous skirmishes took place there in 2004, 2005,and 2006, and they erupted in a large-scale confrontations around Kanyabayongain December 2004, Rutchuru in January 2006, and Sake in August 2006.

In addition, Kabila could also count on local tensions between ‘indigenous’ andRwandophone communities to recruit local allies, both political (as in the CivilSociety party) and military (as in the Mai Mai militias) to fight against the RCD-Gfrom within its area of control. In Masisi and Rutchuru, for example, Civil Societyrepresentatives and local militias had two reasons for fighting against anythingperceived as part of a Rwandophone movement (MONUC, 2004). First, the Hundesand the Nyangas felt that they were the only communities with a rightful claim ontraditional (and political) representation. Although the Hutus were the majoritypopulation of the Masisi territory and demanded the right to adequate representa-tion at the political and traditional levels, the Hundes and Nyangas saw them as‘immigrants’ who had arrived during the colonisation or after independence andtherefore had no legal claim on traditional power. As explored above, this led tomajor tensions regarding who could be named chief of a village or a collectivity, suchas in the Osso and Bashili collectivities.



Second, Rwandophones (mostly Tutsis) owned about 80 per cent of the land as aresult of transactions they had made under Mobutu. However, the Hundes and theNyangas claimed that the land was traditionally theirs: Mobutu should not havebeen allowed to sell it because it belonged to traditional authorities. The issue of landownership was further complicated by the fact that many Tutsis had fled Masisi inthe 1990s to escape the ongoing massacres, and either had abandoned their land orsold it at an artificially low price. When they came back after the 1996 and 1998 wars,they found their lands occupied and reportedly took all of it back, by force ifnecessary, including the land that had been sold legitimately.10

These local antagonisms over political and economic issues were carried onto themilitary stage, particularly the conflict between the Mai Mai (allied with FDLR) andboth the Local Defence Forces militia and the RCD-G. The Mai Mai represented the‘indigenous’ communities, whereas the RCD-G and Local Defence Forces wereaccused of siding with the Hutus and the Tutsis. Fighting became more frequent andmore violent after the 2004 Bukavu crisis, which generated a complete breakdown oftrust between the RCD-G and the Mai Mai. In October 2004, the situation in Masisibecame so tense that there was once again a real front line within the province, withboth groups committing abuses against people crossing to the other side.

Local agendas regarding traditional power or land, which led to hostilities at theprovincial (Nandes versus Rwandophones) and village (Hutus or Tutsis versusother communities) levels, were therefore as influential as national and regionalcleavages in generating violence. However, local conflicts were easily reinterpretedin light of the ethnic and political cleavages, and thus North Kivu politics appearedto be dominated by these master cleavages. In contrast, in North Katanga the mastercleavages carried very little weight and the local agendas could hardly beinterpreted in light of them.

North Katanga: Uncontrolled Militias Rejecting National ControlThe continued insecurity in North Katanga (see map below) was indeed attributablemostly to local factors, which were disconnected from the national cleavages. At firstglance, it seemed that Kabila had asserted his control over the province. GeneralDunia, posted at the southern tip of South Kivu, reportedly served to protect Katangafrom enemy attacks from the north should Rwandans resume their attack in theKivus. Kabila had apparently ensured the loyalty of the administrative and militaryauthorities in the region, either by replacing them or by letting them switch sides. In2004, the Congolese armed forces stationed in the region were supposedly a mixtureof former RCD-G soldiers, Mai Mai groups, and governmental forces. However, thisalleged governmental control was a fallacy. In reality, state authority was absentfrom North Katanga. Even if the security situation there showed a tremendousimprovement compared to the war period, many areas in the territory remainedplagued by micro-local, uncontrolled armed groups (mostly former Mai Mai), whospent most of their time harassing the civilian population and fighting against theFARDC or among themselves.

During the transition, a rupture indeed appeared between the North Katanga MaiMai and the Transitional Government. Katangan Mai Mai thought that they had notbeen adequately rewarded for having saved Lubumbashi, the capital of the Katangaprovince and the second largest city of the Congo, from the RCD-G and Rwandantroops during the war. In addition, Mai Mai members of the TransitionalGovernment came from the Kivus and Maniema, so Katangan Mai Mai did not feel

either represented by them or bound by the agreements they signed (including theagreement to integrate Mai Mai troops into the Congolese armed forces). The MaiMai demand for integration in the Congolese armed forces was therefore far less inKatanga than in the Kivus. The problem was further compounded by the reluctanceof Kabila’s component to integrate the Mai Mai groups active on the government sideof the frontline during the war into the Congolese armed forces. To Kabila’sfollowers, these Mai Mai groups had fought government forces instead of the foreigninvaders; they were therefore enemies.11

The top military commanders of the Congolese armed forces first tried to convincethe Mai Mai to join the unified army, but they had limited success. Thus theychanged strategy in late 2004 and organised military operations in many Katanganterritories against the remaining un-integrated forces. It led to additional skirmishesand their associated cortege of insecurity and violation of human rights. It alsoheightened the fallout between the Mai Mai and the Congolese armed forces. Theconsequences were two-fold. First, in late 2004 and 2005, journalists andhumanitarian workers reported constant fighting between the Congolese armedforces and Katangan Mai Mai, notably around Mitwaba, Kongolo, and MalembaNkulu. Second, state authority totally collapsed in North Katanga, which enhancedthe impunity for human rights violations and illegal actions, and therefore furtherfacilitated violence by all armed groups.

In addition to the tensions between the Mai Mai and the Congolese armed forces,frequent fighting took place among the Mai Mai militias over a combination ofpolitical, economic, and ethnic antagonisms. At the territory, or village level, MaiMai groups strived to maintain their power over their former areas of control in orderto dominate the administrative and traditional powers, manage mineral-rich areas,divert taxes, and impose all kinds of fines on the population. These political andeconomic agendas interacted with numerous ethnic tensions: hatred of pygmies and‘Kasaian’ groups remained widespread while, in each district, the amount of otherclan, tribal, or ethnic rivalries continued to simmer away. Unconfirmed informationalso held that provincial and national actors enhanced these local antagonisms. Theresult was that fighting among Mai Mai militias and abuses against the localpopulation reached such a point that, near Mitwaba, a new ‘popular self defenceforce’ was created in order to protect villagers against the Mai Mai – which wasironic because, initially, the Mai Mai militias were born as popular self defenceforces tasked with protecting their villages.

During the transition, local agendas were therefore the prime causes of continuedviolence in North Katanga. National cleavages had very little influence: RCD-Gmilitary and administrative authorities had either disappeared or switched sides,and there were no Rwandophones to harass. Regional cleavages were similarlynon-influential because foreign armed groups had left the province. The only form ofoutside influence on North Katanga was an alleged control or manipulation of MaiMai groups by Kabila and his advisors. Several UN and diplomatic intervieweesclaimed that Kabila’s advisors manipulated local antagonisms in order to pit MaiMai groups against one another, but they could not articulate clearly the advisor’smotivations for this manipulation. Katangans usually identified the desire to benefitfrom the illegal exploitation of resources as the main cause for national involvementin their province. However, none of my interviewees could provide any concreteevidence to support their claims.



ConclusionMy analysis suggests that peace builders involved in the Congolese transitionshould have addressed local violence for two main reasons. First, the humanitariancost of local antagonisms that turned violent was staggering. Second, the neglect oflocal issues could lead only to incomplete and unsustainable peace settlements.

Local manifestations of violence, although often related to national or regionalstruggles, were also precipitated by distinctively local problems. These includedconflict over land, mineral resources, traditional power, local taxes, and the relativesocial status of specific groups and individuals. Even issues usually presented asregional questions (such as the FDLR problem) or national ones (such as ethnictensions with Congolese Rwandophones) had significant local components, whichfuelled and reinforced the regional and national dimensions.

Local, national, and regional dimensions of violence remained closely interlinked inmost of the eastern Congo. Local agendas provided national and regional actorswith local allies, who were crucial in maintaining military control, continuingresource exploitation, and persecuting political or ethnic enemies. Local tensionscould also jeopardise the national and regional reconciliation: for example, bymotivating violence against the Rwandophone minority or allowing a strong FDLRpresence in the Kivus. In addition, during the transition, some local conflicts becameautonomous from the national and regional tracks, most notably in South Kivu andNorth Katanga. There, local disputes over political power, economic resources(especially land and mining sites), and social status led to clashes that no nationalor regional actors could stop. Thus, addressing local issues was key to endingviolence and to ensuring the stability of the national and regional settlements. Peacebuilding action was required not only at the national and regional level but alsolocally.

Concretely, international actors could include local conflict in peace processes byslightly modifying their usual approach to peace building. In all war and post-warcontexts, policy-makers should commission applied research to illuminate both thedistinctive local dynamics of violence and the local underpinnings of national (andpotentially international) tensions. Based on this analysis, international actorsshould step up their interventions on local conflict in two different but complemen-tary ways. First, donors should increase the funding available for international andlocal non-governmental organisations specialised in local conflict resolution, eitherby modifying their assistance priorities or by increasing their aid budgets. To ensurethat the additional money funds efficient conflict-resolution programs, donorsshould build up structures that can identify reliable local peace builders in theprovinces as well as in the capital. Second, whenever civil society actors are ill-equipped to address the local tensions (such as when violence is caused by militaryantagonisms), international political and military actors should step in. Theintervention of diplomats and political or military UN staff in local conflict would,on the one hand, deter local warlords and, on the other hand, signal to thesewarlords a possibility for assistance – and therefore increase the estimated peacedividends.

Séverine Autesserre is an Assistant Professor of Political Science at Barnard College,Columbia University. Prior to that, she worked as a humanitarian worker in severalwar and post-war situations, including the D.R. Congo in 2001 and 2003 and is

currently finalising a book entitled Local Violence, International Indifference? TheFailure of Peace Building in the Congo. Parts of this article were previously publishedin the African Studies Review (49:3, 2006); e-mail: [email protected]

Endnotes

1. In this article, I use FDLR to refer to all Hutu refugees based in the eastern Congo, including thefew not associated with the FDLR movement.

2. Citations from an author’s interview with Hans Romkema, head of Life and Peace Institute,Bukavu, 2004.

3. Author’s interview with Azile Tanzi, head of mission of Campagne Pour la Paix, Goma, 2005.

4. Author’s interview with Jean-Charles Dupin, Humanitarian Advisor for the UN Office for theCoordination of Humanitarian Affairs, Bukavu, 2005.

5. Author’s interview with Professor Séverin Mugangu Matabaro, Universite Catholique de Bukavu,2006.

6. On Masisi: author’s interview with Anders Vatn, head of Mission for the Norwegian RefugeeCouncil, Goma, 2005.

7. Author’s interview with Vatn, 2005.

8. The incentive to stay in the Congo was all the stronger because the dictatorial nature of the Kigaliregime and its harsh treatment of political opponents gave Rwandan Hutu refugees in the Congolittle hope for livable conditions in Rwanda. It was further reinforced by the harsh disciplineimplemented by FDLR top commanders, who would lose the basis of their power if FDLRcombatants and civilians left the Congo; many leaders intimidated and sometimes killed thepotential deserters they had identified in their ranks.

9. Author’s interview with Tanzi, 2005.

10. Author’s interview with Tanzi, 2005.

11. Author’s interview with Nawezi Karl, University of Kinshasa, October 2004.


Bibliography

Autesserre, Séverine (2006), ‘Local Violence,International Indifference? Post-Conflict‘Settlement’ in the Eastern D.R. Congo (2003-2005), Ph.D. diss., New York University.

Collier, Paul & Anke Hoeffler (2001), ‘Greedand Grievance in Civil War’ in Oxford EconomicPaper (56): 663-695.

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Hampson, Fen Osler (1996), Nurturing Peace:Why Peace Settlements Succeed or Fail, Washington,DC, United States Institute of Peace Press.

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Kalyvas, Stathis N. (2003), ‘The Ontology of‘Political Violence’: Action and Identity in CivilWars.’ American Political Science Review (1-3): 475-94; (2006), The Logic of Violence in Civil War, NewYork, Cambridge University Press.


Mamdani, Mahmood (2001), When VictimsBecome Killers: Colonialism, Nativism, and theGenocide in Rwanda, Princeton: PrincetonUniversity Press.

Naidoo, Sagaren (ed.) (2003), The War Economyin the Democratic Republic of Congo, Braamfontein,South Africa: Institute for Global Dialogue.

Nest, M., F. Grignon et al. (2006), TheDemocratic Republic of Congo. Economic Dimensionsof War and Peace, Boulder: Lynne Rienner.

Olsson, Ola (2004), ‘Congo: The Prize ofPredation’ in Journal of Peace Research 41(3): 321-336.

Pourtier, Roland (2004), L’économie minière auKivu et ses implications régionales (version provisoire):Rapport suite à une mission au Nord Kivu, au SudKivu, et au Rwanda, Paris: OCDE-Initiative forCentral Africa / Initiative pour l’Afrique Central.

Romkema, Hans (2004), Update on the DRCTransition: The Case of the Kivu Provinces, Pretoria:Institute for Security Studies.

Samset, Ingrid (2002), ‘Conflict of Interests orInterests in Conflict? Diamond and War in theDRC’ in Review of African Political Economy, 93-94: 463-480.

Staibano, Carina (2005), Enhancing the UNCapacity. Part 2: The Democratic Republic of Congo:Enhancing UN Peacekeeping Capacity – SomeOperational Aspects, Department of Peace andConflict Research, Uppsala University.

Stedman, Stephen John (1997), ‘SpoilersProblems in Peace Processes’ in InternationalSecurity 22(2): 5-53.

Stedman, Stephen John, Donald S. Rothchild& Elizabeth M. Cousens (eds.) (2002), EndingCivil Wars: the Implementation of Peace Agreements.Boulder: Lynne Rienner.

Synergie Vie (2004), Mémoire Sur Les EntravesAu Rappatriement Des Groupes Armés HutuÉtrangers Dans Le Kivu. Bukavu (D.R. Congo):Synergie Vie.

UN/MONUC (2004), ‘Kivu Strategy and KivuOffices Action Plans’, Kinshasa (D.R. Congo):United Nations.

UN Office for the Coordination of Humani-tarian Affairs (2003-2007), Monitoring De LaSituation Humanitaire En RDC, Kinshasa (D.R.Congo): UN Office for the Coordination ofHumanitarian Aid.

UN Security Council (New York) (2004), Reportof the Secretary-General to the Security Council onthe Arm Embargo in the Democratic Republic ofCongo; (2005a), Nineteenth Report of the Secretary-General on the United Organization Mission in theDemocratic Republic of Congo; (2005b), Report ofthe Secretary-General to the Security Council on theArm Embargo in the Democratic Republic of Congo;(2005c), Resolution 1592 (2005); (2005d), SixteenthReport of the Secretary-General on the UnitedOrganization Mission in the Democratic Republic ofCongo.

Van Acker, Frank & Koen Vlassenroot (2000),‘Youth and Conflict in Kivu: “Komona Clair”’,Journal of Humanitarian Assistance, www.jha.ac.

Walter, Barbara F. (2002), Committing to Peace:the Successful Settlement of Civil Wars, Princeton:Princeton University Press.

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Zartman, I. William & J. Lewis Rasmussen(1997), Peacemaking in International Conflict:Methods and Techniques, Washington, DC: UnitedStates Institute of Peace Press.

Glossary

Banyamulenge: Congolese of Rwandan ancestry living in South Kivu.

Banyarwanda: Congolese of Rwandan ancestry living in North Kivu.

FARDC: Forces Armées de la République Démocratique du Congo/Armed Forces of the DemocraticRepublic of Congo (integrated national army during the transition).

FDLR: Forces Démocratiques pour la Libération du Rwanda/Democratic Forces for the Liberation ofRwanda (Rwandan rebel group composed mostly of ethnic Hutus based in the eastern Congo).

Kabila, Joseph: Son of late president Laurent-Désiré Kabila. President of the Congo since 2001.

Mai Mai: Local militias formed on ethnic basis throughout the eastern Congo.

MONUC: Mission de l’Organisation des Nations Unies au Congo/United Nations OrganizationMission in the Congo.

RCD-G: Rassemblement Congolais pour la Démocratie – Goma/Congolese Rally for Democracy –Goma (main rebel group during the 1998 war, controlled most of the eastern Congo. Transformedinto political party during the transition).

RCD-K/ML: Rassemblement Congolais pour la Démocratie – Kisangani / Mouvement de Libération –Congolese Rally for Democracy – Kisangani / Liberation Movement (small rebel group during the1998 war, controlled part of North Kivu. Transformed into political party during the transition).

Rwandophones: Kinyarwanda-speaking people. In the Congolese context, term used to refer tothe Congolese of Rwandan ancestry (both Hutus and Tutsis).

SPECIAL ISSUEState Failure in the Congo

by Theodore Trefon, Saskia Van Hoyweghen,& Stefaan Smis (guest editors)

ROAPE, Volume 29, Number 93/94(Sep/Dec 2002)


Review of African Political Economy No.113:443-460© ROAPE Publications Ltd., 2007ISSN 0305-6244

The Print Media in South Africa: Pavingthe Way for ‘Privatisation’

Anne Mayher & David A. McDonald

Since the end of apartheid, national and local governments in South Africahave been involved in the commercialisation and marketisation of a wide rangeof public services. This article examines the responses of the mainstreammedia to these neo-liberal initiatives, looking specifically at English-languagenewspapers and their coverage of water, electricity and waste managementservices. We explore the extent to which the print media can be deemed tobe in favour of privatisation as well as the more subtle, discursive ways inwhich it covers these issues. We argue that these corporate media outlets inSouth Africa generate and perpetuate a neo-liberal discourse on privatisation,but that this dialogue is neither omnipotent nor monolithic. Nevertheless, itis exactly this façade of objectivity which gives neo-liberalism its hegemony.By appearing to give equal space to different points of view there is aperception of balance in the press that obscures the more subtle, opinion-making discourses that generate neo-liberal biases. We conclude with a briefdiscussion of what might be done to counter this neo-liberal authority.

The ‘privatisation’ of municipal services has been a flash point for public policydebates around the world. From New York to Buenos Aires there have been loud andoften heated disagreements about the merits and demerits of private sectorinvolvement in essential services such as water and electricity. This is true of SouthAfrica as well, where governments at all levels have been transforming the natureand scale of public ownership and public management.

Although the trend began in the late 1980s under the neo-apartheid National Partygovernment, it was not until the election of the African National Congress (ANC) in1994 – and the solidification of the ANC’s electoral base with local governmentelections in 1995/6 – that the push to privatise services began in earnest. Sothorough has this shift been that even the Free Market Foundation of South Africacan claim – with obvious delight – that the ‘privatisation of state-owned assets [hasbeen] a guiding economic principle of South Africa’s first democratically electedgovernment’ (Spindler, 2004:1).

Strictly speaking, however, there has been relatively little outright privatisation inSouth Africa (and hence our use of quotation marks around the word). Althoughsome state entities have been sold in whole or in part to private investors (e.g.Telkom) most private sector involvement in state services in South Africa has been inthe form of public-private partnerships (PPPs).



With PPPs, the state typically owns the service assets (e.g. a water treatment plant)but the service may be managed and operated in whole or in part by a privatecompany. Some PPPs involve small firms on short-term contracts (e.g. meter reading)while others may involve large multinationals responsible for all aspects of a serviceoperation for more than 20 years. But regardless of size, PPPs have served todramatically transform the philosophy and day-to-day operation of service deliveryin South Africa. As a result, PPPs are often referred to as a form of privatisation in thecritical literature on the subject because of the transfer of decision making andaccountability from public to private hands (Barlow & Clarke, 2002; McDonald &Ruiters, 2005a; TNI, 2006).

Also of interest here are the creation of stand-alone ‘business units’ in South Africa– service entities that are wholly owned and operated by the state but which are setup at arm’s length from municipal or national governments and expected to operatelike a private company in terms of investment decisions and the recovery ofoperating costs (if not profits). This ‘corporatisation’ of services (strongest in water,waste management and electricity in South Africa) is not privatisation in the strictsense of the word either, but the results can be similar in terms of access to servicesfor the poor and uneven patterns of investment and service quality (Shirley, 1999;McDonald & Pape, 2002; Smith, 2003).

In some circles in South Africa this privatisation and corporatisation of services hasbeen met with much enthusiasm. The private sector itself has been supportive ofthese initiatives (with many large multinational service firms having establishedoffices in the country) as have neo-liberal NGOs and research bodies (such as theCentre for Development and Enterprise). Funding agencies such as the World Bankand USAID have been active proponents as has the South African state which putconsiderable efforts into promoting privatisation and corporatisation via officialwebsites, public information sessions, and advertisements in newspapers.

This support for ‘privatisation’ – in its various manifestations – forms part of alarger trend towards neo-liberal policy making in South Africa. While notuncontested in the country, there is a large and growing scholarship which arguesthat the South African state has become increasingly neo-liberal in its orientationand that this neo-liberal ideology has become increasingly hegemonic (Bond, 2000a,2000b; Marais, 2000; Hart, 2002; Narsiah, 2002; Desai, 2003; McDonald, 2007).

But neo-liberalism in general, and privatisation in particular, has also met withmuch resistance in South Africa. The country’s largest umbrella labour organisation– the Congress of South African Trade Unions (Cosatu) – has organised anti-privatisation strikes and marches involving several million workers. There has alsobeen a mushrooming of community groups and non-governmental organisationsopposed to privatisation (e.g. the Anti-Privatisation Forum, Anti-Eviction Cam-paign) as well as academics debating the matter.

Where has the South African press stood on the matter? In this article we look at theEnglish-language print media over a four and a half year period, from May 2000 toOctober 2004 – a particularly intense time of debate over privatisation in the countryand a period for which we had access to a comprehensive database of print mediareporting. The focus of our study is the four core municipal services of water,electricity, sanitation and waste management, but the results have implications forprivatisation initiatives in other sectors as well.

Our analysis involves a large database of newspaper articles, opinion pieces andletters-to-the-editor about these core services to determine the extent to which theprint media could be deemed to be in favour of, or opposed to privatisation (as wehave broadly defined it). We are also interested in the quality of this newspapercoverage (i.e. how informative and analytical it is), in part because of the confusionthat sometimes appears in the press about what exactly constitutes privatisation.Also included is an examination of the more subtle, discursive aspects of this mediacoverage in order to comment on the potential impacts that the South African pressmay have had on popular perceptions around the privatisation of municipalservices as well as on policy making. For this we develop a conceptual framework onhegemony, looking at the discursive tools employed by the media to construct and/or strengthen dominant ideologies.

Our position is not a simple one. Although we argue that the oligopolistic corporatemedia in South Africa generates and perpetuates a neo-liberal discourse onprivatisation, severely constraining the possibilities for alternative opinions to beheard or policies to be developed, this discourse is neither omnipotent normonolithic. In fact, at first glance there would appear to be a relatively balancedcoverage of privatisation debates in the South African English-language press, withan almost equal number of pro- and anti-privatisation articles in our sample, andmany that attempt to provide ‘both sides’ of the argument. Alternative voices areheard and there are journalists and editors within the mainstream South Africanpress that are sympathetic to anti-privatisation positions, if not in agreement.

But it is exactly this façade of balance, we argue, which gives neo-liberalism suchhegemony in South Africa. By appearing to give equal space to different points ofview there is a perception of ‘freedom of expression’ and ‘balanced reporting’ whichobscures the more subtle, opinion-making discourses that generate biases in presscoverage on this issue.

We begin our analysis with a brief conceptual overview of hegemony and the mediain order to situate ourselves within this broad interpretive framework. This isfollowed by a description of our sample, the methodological techniques employed inour analysis, and their outcomes. We conclude with a brief discussion of how printmedia coverage may have affected popular and official discourse and policy makingon privatisation in South Africa and what might be done to counter this neo-liberalhegemony.

Hegemony & Mass Media in South AfricaMarxist scholars have long argued that the media plays a key role in shaping publicopinion in favour of the interests of capital (Althusser, 1971; Murdock & Golding,1977; Hall, 1982; Murdock, 1982; Fairclough, 1989, 2001; Ferguson & Golding,1997). Although Marx himself did not develop a detailed analysis of the processesand power relations that contribute to this dynamic, the following quote from TheGerman Ideology (1968:21) is often cited in studies of mass communications:

The class which has the means of material production at its disposal has control at the same timeover the means of mental production, so that thereby, generally speaking, the ideas of those wholack the means of mental production are subject to it.

This is not to suggest a deterministic view of the role that class plays in influencingthe media. As Murdock and Golding (1977:19) note:

South Africa & the Media: Paving the Way for ‘Privatisation’ 445


the process of ideological reproduction cannot be fully understood without an analysis of theeconomic context within which it takes place and of the pressures and determinations whichthis context exerts.

At one level we can look at the ownership structure of the media, controlled as it is inmost countries today – South Africa included – by a handful of corporations with thesame general interests as other fractions of capital in securing the conditions forrapid market growth through neo-liberal policy reforms such as liberalisation,privatisation and deregulation. In this respect, media operates like any othercapitalist enterprise, seeking ways to improve its profit potential through expansionand cost-cutting and applying pressures on states for particular political andeconomic reforms (Murdock, 1982; Herman & McChesney, 1997).

The media is also a vehicle for capital in general in promoting itself (i.e. throughadvertising). Since advertising is typically the largest source of revenue for print andelectronic media companies, it is in the interests of these media firms to create anideological medium conducive to market-oriented growth. The latter can be done inpart by ensuring market-friendly content within which advertisers would want topromote their products and services. Editors and journalists who share this marketideology are more likely to be hired and to have their material published, and thesame can be said of opinion editorials (op-eds) and letters-to-the-editor – whatHerman and Chomsky (1988) refer to as a form of ideological ‘gatekeeping’.

But on its own this is still an inadequate and overly deterministic account of themedia and ideology. Most large media outlets operate in more subtle ways. AsMurdock and Golding (1977:22) point out, the production of ideology is not purelyeconomistic, arguing that ‘[Marx] used the notion of determination and condition-ing not in the narrow sense but in a much looser sense of setting limits, exertingpressures and closing off options.’

Gramsci described this process as one of constructing rule by consent wherebycapitalist classes, and those who benefit indirectly from their success, establishhegemony through the world of ideas rather than through (mere) force, creating astronger and more stable form of rule. As Fairclough (2001:34) explains it:

There are … in gross terms two ways in which those who have power can exercise it and keepit: through coercing others to go along with them, with the ultimate sanctions of physicalviolence or death; or through winning others’ consent to, or at least acquiescence in, theirpossession and exercise of power. In short, through coercion or consent. The state includesrepressive forces which can be used to coerce if necessary, but any ruling class finds it lesscostly and less risky to rule if possible by consent. Ideology is the key mechanism of rule byconsent, and because it is the favoured vehicle of ideology, discourse is of considerable socialsignificance in this connection.

Peet (2001:57), in his analysis of neo-liberal hegemony in post-apartheid SouthAfrica, points to the media as part of a cluster of institutions that ‘organisediscursive flows’ and give ‘legitimacy’ to ideas. Other ‘centres of persuasion’include universities, funding agencies, business federations, government depart-ments, think tanks and private companies – what Peet refers to collectively as the‘Academic-Institutional-Media (AIM) complex’. These institutions, according toPeet, have been ‘captured’ by neo-liberalism in South Africa, disseminating aconsistent set of ideas shaped around a particular policy agenda. There are, arguesPeet (2001:59), ‘competing tendencies within [this] AIM complex’,1 and counter

hegemonic voices from outside it, but the end result is a David and Goliath battle ofideas, with research reports, conferences, policy papers, academic publications,donor funding and media coverage all being overwhelmingly neo-liberal in itsorientation, serving to narrow (even crush) the potential for alternative ideas anddiscourses. The public impression of this debate, however, is one of objectivity,professionalism and a level playing field – a myth perpetuated by the dominantvoices themselves. It is these complex, mediated and non-coercive spaces of publicdiscourse that we want to unpack in this article.

Research MethodsOur discussion is based on a review of 647 news articles, op-eds and letters-to-the-editor taken from 34 English-language South African newspapers and wire servicesfrom May 2000 to October 2004 (see Appendix A for a list of all of the print mediasources). The majority of these items were articles written by staff journalists (86% ofthe total), but there were a significant number of op-eds (9%), editorials (2%) andletters-to-the-editor (3%).

The sample was collated from an online database of print media collected by theMunicipal Services Project (MSP) through a weekly search of websites of all majorEnglish-language newspapers and wire services (such as the South African PressAgency) as well as government websites which carry relevant press clippings (suchas the Department of Water Affairs and Forestry).2 In some cases, this data wassupplemented by articles from hard copies of major newspapers. All of the articles inthe sample were explicitly related to the privatisation and corporatisation ofmunicipal services in South Africa as they related to four core municipal services(water, electricity, sanitation and waste removal).

The sample provides a broad chronological representation of one of the mostimportant and controversial periods of privatisation and commercialisation inSouth Africa. As Figure 1 demonstrates, the articles are spread throughout thereview period, with spikes in coverage coinciding with pertinent events such aslocal government elections in December 2000, anti-privatisation strikes organisedby Cosatu in August 2001 and October 2002, and various flare-ups in communityresistance to service cutoffs and evictions in 2003 and 2004. The sample thereforeprovides good coverage of key public policy debates on the commercialisation ofservices.


Figure 1: Number of News Items on Subject of PrivatisationMay 2000 - October 2004


There are, however, a few methodological limitations to our analysis. The first is thatwe confined our study to the text of articles, omitting photographs and otherpotentially important opinion-shaping representations. Second, millions of SouthAfricans are functionally illiterate and may not, as a result, be affected by newspaperreportage,3 but the print media remains an influential source of news for policymakers in the country and impacts on other forms of media such as television andradio (Harber, 2002; Jacobs, 2004). Third, while English papers are the mostdominant there are important isiZulu, Sesotho, Afrikaans and other African-language newspapers that help to shape public opinion. However, English is thelingua franca of political discourse in the country and with the advent of on-linenewspapers the sphere of influence of the English-language press is only likely togrow in the future.

Pro- vs. Anti-Privatisation ArticlesAll 647 articles in our sample were reviewed and subjected to two interrelatedcontent evaluations. The first was an assessment of each article’s pro- or anti-privatisation position, ranked on a scale of -5 (strongly anti-privatisation) to +5(strongly pro-privatisation). Pro-privatisation articles were characterised by state-ments, quotes, and/or information that promoted the agenda of corporatisationand/or privatisation. This included the promotion of all forms of private sectorinvolvement in service delivery (e.g. outsourcing, management contracts, outrightdivestiture) as well as corporatised restructuring and the promotion of full costrecovery on services. Anti-privatisation articles, by contrast, were those that werelargely critical of privatisation and corporatisation (to varying degrees). If an articlegave equal/balanced coverage to both sides of the debate it was rated as neutral andgiven a score of 0.

Figure 2: Pro vs. Anti-privatisation New Items(by news agency) May 2000 - October 2004

In total, 41% of the sample was classified as pro-privatisation, 38% as anti-privatisation, and 21% as neutral. A breakdown by news agency showed someinteresting variations, however, with Business Day printing by far the largest numberof pro-privatisation pieces (102) and having the largest proportion of their coverageclassified as pro-privatisation (62%) (see Figure 2 for data on news agencies with atleast 10 articles in the sample). Other newspapers were more balanced in theircoverage (e.g. the Sunday Times – the most widely read newspaper in the country –with an equal number of pro- and anti-privatisation articles). In a few cases thebalance was tipped in favour of anti-privatisation coverage (e.g. the weekly Mail &Guardian where 54% of articles were assessed as anti-privatisation to some degree).

Analytical vs. Unanalytical ArticlesArticles were then evaluated according to their degree of analysis (with -5representing ‘very unanalytical’ and +5 representing ‘very analytical’, withgradations in between). An unanalytical article is one that would, for example, makea statement on the merits (or demerits) of privatisation without explaining what theauthor meant by ‘privatisation’ or how these arguments can play themselves out inpractice. An analytical article, by contrast, would describe the particular form(s) ofprivatisation being discussed, the pros and cons of different forms of privatisation(or the similarities between them), and perhaps offer evidence to illustrate thesepoints.

This supplementary analysis was added to our investigation exactly because somany writers did not clarify what they meant by privatisation or adequately explainthe similarities/differences between its different variants. While recognising thedifficulties of providing lengthy discussions of a complex subject matter, it wasnonetheless possible to discern articles that made little or no effort to explaindifficult or contentious topics and those that were able to provide some usefulconceptual information and/or practical reference points.

In this supplementary analysis we begin to see a much less balanced picture ofreportage, with more than two-thirds (69%) of the articles in our sample consideredunanalytical and only 21% being considered analytical (with 10% being given amiddle/neutral rating of 0). Figure 3 (over) provides an illustration of thisassessment, sorted by news agencies with at least 10 articles in the sample.

The newspaper with the largest number of unanalytical pieces was Business Day,with 100 of its 164 articles (61%) falling into this category. The Mail & Guardian wasthe opposite with 46 of 68 pieces being characterised as analytical (63%) (the onlynewspaper in our sample to have a majority of its articles being classified this way).

This lack of analysis may be a reflection of a ‘dumbing down’ of journalism in SouthAfrica – a phenomenon that Duncan (2003:8) blames on the low wages ofjournalists, but which has been raised in more general terms by others (de Beer &Steyn, 2002; Steyn & de Beer, 2004). It may also reflect an ingrained ideological biasamongst journalists and editors towards the marketisation of municipal servicesand a related willingness to allow unproblematised assumptions and positions onthe topic to be published.

This latter point is demonstrated, in part, by the fact that there was a much largerproportion of pro-privatisation articles that were unanalytical than there were anti-privatisation articles. In other words, articles in favour of privatisation were much



more likely to make unsubstantiated assumptions about the benefits of marketisationthan anti-privatisation articles were to make unsubstantiated arguments about thenegative aspects of marketisation. Pro-privatisation articles would, for example,speak to the ‘successes’ of a privatised venture but fail to mention any problemsassociated with it. Others would acknowledge past or potential problems but stillargue that ‘there is no alternative’, leaving the reader with a very constrainedunderstanding of the range of debates on the matter.

Anti-privatisation articles, op-eds and letters were not immune to this kind ofunanalytical writing, sometimes spouting crude anti-privatisation rhetoric andoffering little in the way of quantitative or qualitative scrutiny or comparativeinsight. For the most part, however, anti-privatisation pieces tended to be moresubstantive and reflective than their pro-privatisation counterparts. Not all of these‘analytical’ pieces would be considered good journalism – there were often confusedand problematic lines of argument – but the effort to provide context and analysiswas much more evident and more consistent in the anti-privatisation cluster.

The higher quality of writing from those opposed to privatisation may be due to thefact that many of these articles were written by people not affiliated with anewspaper and who may have had the time and expertise to construct a moredetailed, reflective article. The demands of the newsroom do not always allow for thedegree of analysis one would like and we must be careful, therefore, not to be unfairlycritical of busy, multi-tasking journalists and editors for not providing the samedepth of analysis as a person writing a one-off letter or opinion piece.

Figure 3: Analytical vs. Unanalytical News Itemsnews agency) May 2000 - October 2004

This line of argument does not, however, explain the fact that many of the pro-privatisation op-eds that we reviewed also lacked analytical rigour, falling into thesame superficial and assumption-driven patterns as staff journalists. Not all pro-privatisation opinion pieces and letters-to-the-editor fell into this category – some ofthe most sophisticated writing in our sample came from academics, governmentofficials and think tanks in favour of privatisation – but the majority of pro-privatisation articles fell into the unanalytical category, further illustrating theargument that ideas which fall within a dominant ideology may come in for lessmeticulous scrutiny in the English-language press.

Media FramesWe move now to the more discursive aspects of our review, beginning with anassessment of ‘media frames’, in an attempt to identify and assess the mostdominant ideological concepts and arguments employed in the articles. Gamsonand Modigliani (1989:3) define a media frame as ‘a central organizing idea, or frame,for making sense of relevant events, suggesting what is at issue’. Similarly, Entman(1993:52) describes frames as a way to ‘select some aspects of a perceived reality andmake them more salient in a communicating text, in such a way as to promote aparticular problem definition, causal interpretation, moral evaluation, and/ortreatment recommendation’.

Some media frames are intentional and explicitly stated, but often they are implicit,inadvertently capturing a particular world view. According to Gitlin (cited in Feree etal. 2002:14): ‘Frames, largely unspoken and unacknowledged, organise the world bothfor journalists who report it and, in some important degree, for us who rely on theirreports’. When writers and editors select ideas and phrases to construct a story line,they are often buying in to a much wider world view which they may or may not believein or understand themselves but which can convey powerful ideological messages.

We identified a total of 17 frames in our sample (nine of which fell into the pro-privatisation camp and eight of which fell into the anti-privatisation camp), with atotal of 1037 instances of these frames appearing in the sample (see Table 1 over). Aninitial list of 15 frames containing certain arguments for and against privatisationwere identified after a preliminary reading of articles. As articles were analysed, anynew frames that appeared were added to the list. The final list of 17 frames includedtwo additional frames, ‘I’ and ‘L’ below. All frames within the articles fell into these17 categories.

All of the articles in our sample had at least one clearly discernable frame, and manyhad two (hence the total of 1037). Those with more than one frame tended to be eitherpro- or anti-privatisation, but some articles had pro- and anti-privatisation frames(another indication, perhaps, of the somewhat confused and largely unanalyticalnature of journalism on this topic in South Africa). There were 522 instances of pro-privatisation frames and 515 instances of anti-privatisation frames in the sample.

On the pro-privatisation side, the most frequent frame was ‘A’ (‘there is noalternative to privatisation’). At 220 occurrences it dominated the pro-privatisationdiscourse and was the most frequent frame of the entire sample. Frame A is also themost ideologically loaded and inflexible of the frame concepts. The argument,essentially, is that the public sector is inherently corrupt and inefficient and thatthere is no point in exploring alternatives that do not involve the private sector orprivate sector operating principles.



Table 1: Media Frames Related to Privatisation: May 2000 – October 2004

Pro-privatisation FramesA State-run services are inherently weak, unaccountable, corrupt, bankrupt and inefficient.

There is ‘no alternative’ but to corporatise/privatise since the private sector bringsefficiency and financial viability.

B Privatisation is ‘pro-poor’ because it ensures better delivery for the needy by being moreefficient, more accountable to the poor, and by providing the necessary capital forinfrastructure investments and upgrades (capital that the public sector does nothave).

C Privatisation and corporatisation attract foreign investment, which helps the South Africaneconomy grow, thereby creating more jobs.

E Making people pay for their services will help conserve scarce resources and help‘consumers’ to see the ‘true’ economic value of the services they receive.

G State-owned monopolies on service provision place risks in hand of taxpayers. It is better toshift that risk to the private sector.

H People who criticise privatisation use incorrect information, manipulate the public, are tryingto undermine the state/ANC and are out-of-step with the majority of SouthAfricans. Included in this frame are anti-striking messages (e.g. that most workersare not behind the anti-privatisation strikes, that strikes are purely political, thatunions refuse to engage meaningfully with government on these issues, and thatthey are undermining public services and the economy as a whole).

I Government is privatising, but cares about and/or is working towards addressing the needsof South Africans living in poverty, including workers.

J There are problems with privatisation, but they can be managed.L There is no need to worry because the government is not ‘privatising’; rather, it is

establishing state-owned companies, facilitating public-private partnerships,outsourcing, and restructuring.

Anti-privatisation FramesN Privatisation leads to corruption.O Communities are frustrated by privatisation-related policies and are resisting. There is a

groundswell of resistance to privatisation and corporatisation.P Essential services such as water, sanitation, electricity, and waste removal are human rights

and should be provided by the public sector with a focus on ensuring the serviceis provided rather than a focus on profit and cost recovery. Included in this frameis the argument that these services are Constitutional rights and that someprivatisation and corporatisation initiatives are unconstitutional.

R Under privatisation and corporatisation, service providers become less responsive to theneeds of the poor because the focus shifts to cost recovery and profit, resulting inservice cutoffs, limitations, evictions, and property seizure. Related to this frameare associated health impacts.

S Under privatisation/corporatisation workers suffer through job losses and lower pay/benefits.Top executives, by contrast, see huge increases in salaries and benefits.

W When services are outsourced or privatised the public has much less control over serviceprovision as accountability shifts from elected officials to company managementand shareholders. Included in this frame is the argument that resources such aswater and electricity are public goods and should remain in public hands and bedelivered by the public sector.

X The implementation of aggressive cost recovery under corporatisation and privatisation hasexacerbated the extreme inequities inherited from the apartheid system (the richget richer and the poor get poorer).

Y International financial institutions, governments, and multinational corporations pressuregovernments all over the world through loans, aid, and debt relief to privatize andattract foreign investment. Included in this frame is the argument that privatisationfacilitates an economic relationship that is another form of colonialism.

It is difficult to say with certainty what impact this line of argument might have onSouth African newspaper readers, but given the frequency with which this frameappeared, and the ‘neutrality’ that might be ascribed to it (given that in mostinstances this frame was delivered by regular journalists and not by opinionwriters), it could be a major contributor to a public perception that privatisation is‘common sense’.

The other three most common pro-privatisation frames are also revealing. Frame B(‘privatisation is ‘pro-poor’ because it leads to better service delivery’) appeared 73different times, and fits with the ANC’s (and the World Bank’s) position thatcommercialisation is being done in the interests of the poor. This is a direct counterattack to the anti-privatisation argument that privatisation is being done in theinterests of capital and elites, and has come to dominate official governmentdiscourse on all service delivery reforms – at all levels of government – and has creptinto the neo-liberal academic literature as well (see for example SACN, 2004). Insome respects this is a sign that the dominant discourse has felt pressure fromcompeting discourses, changing its language to deflect anti-poor criticisms.Fairclough (1989) calls this ‘creative restructuring’ of language.

Frame C (‘privatisation attracts foreign investment and is good for the economy andjobs’) occurred 58 times in the sample and can be seen as another attempt to directlycounter anti-privatisation critics who have argued that private capital is notinterested in job creation and that privatisation results in net job losses. Here we seea commitment to the official government line that commercialisation is good for theSouth African economy, combined with a faith in the ability of the private sector toproduce jobs.

Frame H (‘people who criticise privatisation use incorrect information, manipulatethe public and are out-of-step with the majority of South Africans’) appeared 61times. With this frame we see an attempt to discredit the intellectual skills andpersonal integrity of anti-privatisation critics and to make these groups andindividuals appear anti-ANC; even unpatriotic. While not an entirely unexpected orunique debating tactic for a controversial public policy matter such as this, the use ofthis frame was frequently mean-spirited in its tone (even from ‘objective’ staffjournalists), making for remarkably heated attacks on anti-privatisation criticswhile contributing little to the substantive questions at hand. The targets of theseattacks included union officials, community-based organisations, academics andNGOs, with ‘ultra-leftist’ being one of the most popular ways to attempt to discredita person or organisation (other terms include ‘infantile leftists’, ‘self-styled leaders’and ‘short-minded individuals’).4

Some writers even portrayed anti-privatisation groups and individuals as immoraland unlawful and as intentionally misrepresenting facts. Much of the source of thislanguage was from government officials, with journalists unquestioningly repro-ducing highly controversial statements of a personal/ideological nature withoutquestioning their validity or providing context. One example is the followingremarks made by the former Minister of Public Enterprises, Jeff Radebe, in 2001,widely reproduced verbatim in the press:

The so-called Soweto Electricity Crisis Committee has become part of this criminal culture [ofchallenging privatisation by not paying for services]. Its campaign has resulted in thedestruction of Eskom’s assets [the parastatal electricity provider] … The representatives of[this group] have proven that they will do anything, including telling lies to the community, in



order to realise its political ends. Such people cannot be regarded as the genuinerepresentatives of our people.5

Anti-privatisation articles were not immune from these kinds of ad hominem attacks,but they tended, on the whole, to be more focused on substantive issues. The mostcommon anti-privatisation frame was R (‘the private sector is less responsive to theneeds of low-income people’), with 216 occurrences. This was followed by frame S(‘workers suffer through job losses, lower pay and fewer benefits’) which occurred162 times, and P (‘essential services are human/Constitutional rights and should beprovided by the public sector’) which occurred 35 times. These anti-privatisationframes were most common in op-eds and letters-to-the-editor, raising the questiononce again as to how they would be interpreted by readers and whether they wouldbe seen as less ‘objective’ than articles by staff journalists (though there weresophisticated anti-privatisation frames employed by staff journalists as well).

It is also useful to note how these frames appeared chronologically in relation to keyprivatisation events (such as the Cosatu-organised anti-privatisation strikes inAugust 2001 and October 2002). Figure 4 illustrates a timeline for the most commonpro- and anti-privatisation frames (A, B, R and S). From this timeline it is evident thatparticular media frames were employed around specific events, with Frame Sappearing to be the most incident-sensitive (another indication of the opinion-basedcharacter of much of the anti-privatisation writing). The pro-privatisation framespeaked around these events as well, but frame A (‘there is no alternative’) appearedconsistently throughout the period under study, with the most sustained impact onnewspaper readers and public opinion.

Critical Language StudyOur final look at the data provides the most abstract, but potentially most important,insight into media coverage of privatisation. Here we look at the actual terminologyemployed in the media frames to further illustrate the deep ideological bias thatpermeates pro-privatisation journalism on the subject.

We have adopted a method of discourse analysis outlined by Fairclough (1989), inwhich he argues that language is used strategically – though not alwaysintentionally – to compete for ideological position, and as a tool to exert power overothers. For Fairclough (1989:32), this is a struggle between classes that manifestsitself – in part – as discourse, with mass media being a key terrain: ‘The way inwhich orders of discourse are structured, and the ideologies which they embody, aredetermined by relationships of power in particular social institutions, and in societyas a whole. We therefore need to be sensitive in critical language analysis toproperties of the society and institutions we are concerned with’. The objective ofthis analysis is to examine words and grammatical choices for their expressive,experiential, and relational values. Fairclough (1989:112) describes these differentvalues as follows: Experiential – ‘a trace of and a cue to the way in which the textproducer’s experience of the natural or social world is represented’; Relational – ‘atrace of and a cue to the social relationships which are enacted via the text in thediscourse’; and Expressive – values dealing with ‘subjects and social identities’.

When analysing a text’s vocabulary for experiential values, one looks for the‘classification schemes’ that reflect a particular discourse (e.g., privatisation,efficiency, financial viability, cost recovery are all part of classification schemescommon to neo-liberalism). In addition, ‘rewording’, ‘overwording’, ‘ideologicallycontested words’, and ‘ideologically significant meaning relations’ are also possibleclues to the way discourses manifest within a text (Fairclough, 1989:110-113).

When analysing a text’s vocabulary for relational value, analysts look foreuphemisms and any ‘markedly formal or informal words’. In examining avocabulary for expressive values, particular attention should be paid to what theauthor might be trying to express by choosing one particular word instead of otherword options. It is important here to look for metaphors and their ideologicalsignificance (Fairclough, 1989:116-120).

Grammar must also be scrutinised for experiential, relational, and expressivevalues. Fairclough suggests that we identify which types of process and partici-pants predominate, whether or not agency is clear, and whether or not sentences areactive or passive. For example, an article might say, ‘The municipality cut off waterto residents of this township,’ or it might say, ‘Water was cut off to residents of thistownship.’ In the latter, agency is unclear, leaving the reader without an explicitunderstanding of who was responsible for the cutoffs.

We applied all of these methodological tools in a detailed analysis of a sub-sample ofour data set (30% of the articles), helping us uncover subtle (and not so subtle)attempts to present privatisation initiatives in their best possible light, to makepublic sector options appear inherently flawed, and to villanise opponents ofprivatisation.

To illustrate these points we have selected a few examples from our sample. The firstcomes from a Financial Mail article in November 2000 (‘Water PrivatisationIncentives Go Under the Bridge in Johannesburg’), written by a staff journalist inwhat appears to have been an attempt to write a balanced review of the decision byJohannesburg City Council to contract out the management of its water services to aprivate consortium. The article was rated as +1 (pro-privatisation) and -2(unanalytical) in our coding system.



In the article the journalist reports that, ‘The council’s advisers told Johannesburgthat if the water utility were run efficiently, revenue over the five-year life of thecontract could range between R350m and R1.4bn’. The positive attributes of the term‘efficiency’ are used here in relation to the contract and illustrate elements of a neo-liberal classification scheme, implying that the city will save enormous sums ofmoney by using a private management firm, while at the same time suggesting thatthe previous (public) system was inefficient.

The article also states that the private partners have ‘committed to turning aroundthe Water & Sanitation Utility of Johannesburg … and transfer[ing] skills to a new,black management team’. Here it is argued that the private consortium is‘committed’ to upliftment, particularly for black South Africans, making the contracta pro-poor and socially progressive development (unlike the previous public sectorarrangement, presumably). The journalist goes on to note that the corporationseeking the contract ‘took account of local conditions’ and ‘has experience incountries similar to SA’, demonstrating its ‘commitment’ to socio-economicperformance and making it a ‘charitable’, ‘world-class’ operator. All of thisphrasing is an implicit or explicit endorsement of this particular privatisationinitiative, despite the journalist’s attempt to provide a neutral account of thecontract.

A pro-privatisation article from The Mercury (‘Durban Hit by 28% Rise in Price ofWater’, 29 May 2001) illustrates a different set of discursive trends – ones whichattempt to blame the poor for weak public sector performance and to criminalisetheir activities. In this piece the journalist notes that, ‘The city’s water department,sitting with a R96 million accumulated deficit, has incurred further costs runninginto millions’, and goes on to blame these losses on ‘townships which used waterwithout paying for the service’, quoting the executive director of Durban metro waterservices as saying that ‘non-payment for water by some residents had forced thecouncil to operate on a bank overdraft’. The implication here is that townshipresidents are free-riders and a drain on the municipal coffers, with no effort beingmade by the journalist to situate ‘non-payment’ within the larger political andeconomic context of struggles over water delivery and other basic services inDurban. The notion of a ‘culture of non-payment’ is used to blame the poor for publicsector inefficiencies, despite the fact that research has increasingly demonstratedthat it is ‘an inability to pay, rather than an unwillingness to pay, that lies behindpoor payment compliance’ (SACN, 2004:91; see also McDonald, 2002).

But perhaps the single most important language problem relates to the use of theword ‘privatisation’ itself. Seldom employed in pro-privatisation articles, one findsinstead much softer euphemisms such as ‘partnerships’ and ‘restructuring’(although the institutional make-up of these arrangements are often left unex-plained). The same applies to ‘corporatisation’, which is typically referred to as a‘business unit’. Stripped of inherent political or economic meaning, and imbuedwith neutral, even positive, connotations (who could be opposed to a ‘partnership’?)this new privatisation discourse diverts attention away from the deeply ‘private’and/or ‘corporate’ character of many of these transformative efforts and thenegative inferences often associated with these words (for an extended discussion ofwhy the term ‘privatisation’ remains an appropriate way to define different forms ofcommercialisation see McDonald & Ruiters (2005b:14-24)).

To be fair, journalists and editors have not invented this new language – much of itcan be traced to the World Bank and the South African government – but the press

has picked up on this new terminology and uncritically used it or reproduced it intheir coverage of privatisation debates, serving to de-politicise (or, more accurately,re-politicise) the very meaning and intent of commercialisation efforts.

Even more striking, perhaps, is that elements of this neo-liberal discourse appear inmany of the anti-privatisation articles as well. In some cases this would appear to bethe result of journalists or op-ed writers reporting on, or expressing an opinion on,anti-privatisation positions but offering, in the end, a confused and sometimescontradictory set of arguments and terminology to express them.

Use of the terms ‘partnership’ and ‘efficiency’ feature dominantly here, but many ofthe other neo-liberal words and phrases described above were found in anti-privatisation writing. One example is the use of language that blames and/orcriminalises the poor. In an otherwise strongly anti-privatisation article in the DailyNews (‘Chatsworth Tenants Declare War on City Authorities’, 21 May 2001), theauthor refers to township residents ‘flouting the law’ and ‘illegally reconnectingelectricity supplies’. Rather than portraying community protests against commer-cialisation as acts of civil disobedience, and ones aimed at obtaining what many seeto be Constitutional rights to basic services at an affordable cost (Leibenberg, 2004;Flynn & Chirwa, 2005), anti-privatisation protestors are characterised as ‘angrytenants’.

In some cases this use of neo-liberal language by anti-privatisation writers wasintentional. Typically this was the product of a journalist or editor who claimed to beopposed to privatisation but insisted that public-private partnerships, corporatisationand other forms of commercialisation do not constitute ‘privatisation’ per se. Theeditor of the Mail & Guardian made just such a claim in a feature article in June 2004,arguing that it is ‘plain wrong’ to say that ‘South Africa has undergone a massiveexercise in water and electricity privatisation’. Instead, she argues, ‘[o]nly four of284 municipalities – and relatively small ones at that – have contracted out themanagement of water. As for electricity supply – none, none of it has beenprivatised’. The writer fails to mention that some five million people are serviced bythese privatised water systems in South Africa and that virtually every water andelectricity utility in the country has been corporatised to some extent.

ConclusionIn conclusion, the English-language press in South Africa has provided what wouldappear, on the surface, to be a relatively balanced coverage of the privatisationdebates over core municipal services, with an almost equal number of articles forand against privatisation and many that attempt to provide ‘both sides’ of theargument. But the quality of this news coverage, the source of the news items, thekinds of information packages used to explain the debate, and the actual phrasesand terminologies employed, have the effect of solidifying privatisation as adominant discourse, turning the tide in its favour and limiting the possibilities ofanti-privatisation discourse and debate.

The degree to which this media coverage influences public opinion and policymaking is difficult to ascertain with certainty, but it is an important part of a largerneo-liberal shift that has altered the political and ideological landscape of SouthAfrica over the past 15 years and which has helped to pave the way for theprivatisation and commercialisation of core municipal services in the country.



But having made this argument about the importance of text in policy debates weclose the paper with an important caveat, cautioning readers against an over-emphasis on discourse analysis and highlighting the need for continued investiga-tion into the more material aspects of privatisation. As Harvey (1996:80) notes in hisreview of discursive research:

To privilege discourse above other moments is insufficient, misleading, and even dangerous.Errors arise when examination of one ‘moment’ is held sufficient to understand the totality ofthe social process. Again and again we will find slippages of the sort that convert a dialecticallycorrect statement like ‘there is nothing outside of the text’ into false statements that‘everything can be understood through texts’ (or, worse still, ‘everything is a text and can beunderstood as such’) and equally false practices that seek to use, say, the deconstruction oftexts as the privileged (and sometimes the only) pathway to understanding.

It is essential, therefore, not to lose sight of the fact that there is a larger material basisfor privatisation in South Africa. Understanding the political economy of whatHarvey (2003) calls ‘accumulation by dispossession’ must remain at the heart ofprivatisation investigations and challenges. In this respect it is essential to seeprivatisation as part of a larger accumulation strategy in South Africa; one thatassists capital with access to large and relatively untapped markets for capitalinvestment and profit, providing an outlet for overaccumulated domestic andforeign capital, creating opportunities for multi-tiered service delivery and helpingto create conditions for a wider mass consumption society (Bond, 2000a; McDonald,2007).

The link we want to stress here is the connection between text and the reproductionof these material relations. Language is not, in and of itself, a driver of privatisation,but it plays an integral (and dialectical) part in shaping the ways in which capital isable to penetrate the service sector and legitimate its role therein. It is essential tomake the links between these larger (and ever changing) structural features ofprivatisation and their discursive manifestations.

Anne Mayher, Graduate School of Public & Development Management, University ofWitwatersrand; e-mail: [email protected]; David A. McDonald, AssociateProfessor & Director, Department of Global Development Studies and Co-Director ofthe Municipal Services Project, Queens University; e-mail: [email protected].

Endnotes

1. There are, for example, competing positions on the issue of immigration within the mainstreammedia. Although there would appear to be a shift towards a neo-liberal perspective on keeping theSouth African borders open for access to skilled and unskilled labour for capital, xenophobicrhetoric and anti-immigrant sentiment continues to permeate the South African press (McDonald& Jacobs, 2005).

2. The database can be viewed on the MSP website under ‘In the News’ at www.queensu.ca/msp.

3. In 1995 it was estimated that 10 to 15 million South African adults were ‘functionally illiterate’.Rural Africans had the highest illiteracy rates (at over 80%), but a surprising 40% of whites couldnot read at a Standard Five level (statistics are from a Harvard/University of Cape Town studyundertaken in 1995 as reported in the Mail & Guardian, 2 June 1995).

4. Senior government officials and politicians have been particularly vitriolic in their attacks, withthe former Minster, and Director General, of Water Affairs (Ronnie Kasrils and Mike Muller

respectively) standing out in this regard. In an article in the Business Day on 10 August 2000, Mullersaid of two ‘infantile leftists’ that ‘Academics should lead the intellectual debate rather thanmislead the students, local government and labour cadres they seek to influence with a sloppy mixof lies, half truths and shoddy out-of-date research’.

5. We are indebted to Sean Jacobs for bringing this particular quote to our attention.


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Marais, H. (2000), The Limits to Change, CapeTown: Juta Press.

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McDonald, D.A. (2002), ‘The Theory andPractice of Cost Recovery in South Africa’ inCost Recovery and the Crisis of Service Delivery inSouth Africa, D.A. McDonald & J. Pape (eds.),London: Zed Press and Pretoria: HSRC Pub-lishers.

McDonald, D.A. (2007), World City Syndrome:Neoliberalism and Inequality in Cape Town, NewYork: Routledge.

McDonald, D.A. & J. Pape (eds.) (2002), CostRecovery and the Crisis of Service Delivery in SouthAfrica, London: Zed Press and Pretoria: HSRCPublishers.

McDonald, D.A. & S. Jacobs (2005), ‘(Re)writing Xenophobia: Understanding PressCoverage of Cross-Border Migration in SouthernAfrica’, Journal of Contemporary African Studies23(3):295-325.

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Review of African Political Economy No.113:461-476© ROAPE Publications Ltd., 2007ISSN 0305-6244

Somaliland: A New Democracy inthe Horn of Africa?

Stig Jarle Hansen with Mark Bradbury

With a constitutionally-based and popularly elected government, the Republicof Somaliland, which broke away from Somalia in 1991, has a democraticsystem matched by few other countries in Africa and the Middle East.However, Somaliland’s independence has not been recognised internationally.Moreover developments in neighbouring countries suggest that people inSomaliland will face serious challenges in entrenching a democratic politicalsystem. This article takes as its point of departure Georg Sorensen’s (1998:3)definition of democracy. His definition is employed, together with the historyof elections in the region, to explore the challenges people in Somalilandface in establishing a democratic political system, in this sense the articleaims to explore the challenges of the future, rather than analyse the processesof the past. These include, among others, the shift from a clan-based form ofpolitical representation and competition to one based on political parties asforums for political representation and competition, the urban-based natureof political discourse in a still predominantly rural society, and the absenceof a strong independent media.

In 1991 the Republic of Somaliland broke away from Somalia. With a constitution-ally-based and popularly elected government, the Republic of Somaliland has ademocratic system matched by few other countries in Africa and the Middle East,although Somaliland’s independence has not been recognised internationally.However, the history of the region indicates that the Somali political system facesseveral challenges. In order to understand these challenges one has to establish ananalytical framework, a definition of democracy that could provide some guidanceto what such challenges can consist of, and which specific areas of the politicalstructure to examine.

The term democracy comes from a combination of two Greek words: demos (people)and kratos (rule). Accordingly, democracy has been defined as ‘rule by the people’(Sorensen, 1998:3). A demand for ‘rule by the people’, although seeminglystraightforward, requires a definition of who ‘the people’ are and an agreement onmechanisms for their political inclusion or exclusion. For example, should émigré ordiaspora communities have political rights in their country of origin, and shouldthere be age restrictions on political participation? What is the most appropriateform of popular participation, and how can the rights of minority groups beaccommodated?

Moreover, democratic systems vary and these variations are the result of a number offactors. First, the form they take can be influenced by a country’s stage of capitalist



development and pre-existing institutions. They may, for example, be a result ofelites attempting to hold on to their power, as in the case of the Upper House ofParliament in Great Britain where the elite sought to entrench their powers bycreating an institution that is not subject to democratic elections. Popularparticipation also varies between democratic systems. It can take a restricted form,where the citizens’ role is limited to influencing their elected representatives towhom they have delegated full powers (Schumpeter, 1976), or may take a morecomprehensive form with an emphasis on individual rights (Held, 1987). In suchsystems, citizens are free to determine their own lives, as long as they do not negatethe rights of others. Another form of democracy – described by Arndt Lijphart (1984)as the ‘consensus model’ and practiced in Scandinavian countries – is based on anexpectation that the elected leaders will strive to achieve the greatest degree ofconsensus amongst the citizens and political parties.

Second, forms of democracy can also be influenced by culture. Claude Ake (1993)outlines an ‘African model’ of democracy based on African traditions of politicalparticipation. However, as African political systems take many forms, it is difficultto conceive of a single model of democracy in Africa. In Somali society – a societyfamously described as a ‘pastoral democracy’ (Lewis, 1961) and influenced by Araband African culture1 – traditional political institutions and practices have, as weshall see, been particularly pertinent to efforts to establish a liberal democracy inSomaliland.

While being conscious of the various models of democracy that exist, it is helpful toestablish some basic criteria to distinguish a democratic political system from a non-democratic one. In his classic treatise ‘On Democracy’, Robert Dahl (1988) arguesthat in a democratic system there must be three fundamental elements: effectiveparticipation whereby all citizens must have an equal and effective opportunity tomake their views known on the formulation of public policy; voting equality,whereby every citizen must have an equal and effective opportunity to vote, and thatall votes must be counted as equal; and an enlightened understanding, whereby,within reasonable limits, every citizen must have an equal and effective opportunityto learn about relevant policies and their probable consequences (Ibid. p. 9).

Few, if any, of the existing states in the world actually fulfil the requirement of oneperson, one vote.2 Some electoral arrangements, such as the majoritarian system ofthe United Kingdom, can result in the party with the largest popular vote gaining alarger number of elected representatives than is actually proportionate to their vote.Moreover, the principle of one person one vote is often unfulfilled due to agerestrictions, the use of quotas for underrepresented minorities, traditions, and thevariable size of constituencies. As will be seen in Somaliland, in some societies, theintroduction of a majoritarian system of one-person-one-vote can, if employedrigorously, restrict the representation of women and minority groups in a country’spolitical institutions.

Sorensen (1998:12) takes Dahl’s, Schumpeter’s and Held’s models as a point ofdeparture and establishes more flexible criteria. He asserts, first, that a democraticsystem requires that all positions of effective authority in government – bothparliamentary and cabinet positions – must be open to meaningful and extensiveand non-violent competition amongst individuals and organised groups (orpolitical parties) at regular intervals; second, a democracy also requires a highlyinclusive level of political participation in the selection of leaders and policies; third,eligibility for public office must be broadly defined ensuring that no social group is

excluded; and fourth, there should be a high degree of civil and political liberties,including freedom of expression, freedom of the press, and freedom to form and joinorganisations. One could add to this the right to alternative sources of information.

In the rest of this article we use these criteria to examine the challenges facingSomaliland in institutionalising a democratic political system. These criteria areused only as points of departure for analysis of the process of democratisation inSomaliland rather than to make a judgement on the existing political system. In thissense, the criteria are rather to guide our focus than an analytical frameworkemployed rigidly to evaluate if Somaliland is a democracy or not. This also allowsthe article to focus on some of the very case- and region-specific factors influencingthe political system in Somaliland. Following Tilly (2003), this allows us to examinedemocracy as a process and, additionally, to take into account non-western Somalidemocratic practices.

Somaliland: An Historical BackgroundBefore looking at contemporary challenges facing Somaliland we outline briefly itsrecent history. The Republic of Somaliland, comprising the former regions ofnorthwest Somalia, was created in May 1991 when the leadership of the SomaliNational Movement (SNM) declared that they were dissolving the union betweenthe former colonial territories of the British Somaliland Protectorate and ItalianSomalia established in 1960. The Somaliland authorities assert that rather thanbeing a secessionist state, the sovereign independence of Somaliland has beenrestored, a status it held for five days between 26 June and 1 July 1960 when it unitedwith Italian Somalia to form the Somali Republic (Somaliland Ministry of ForeignAffairs, 2002).

So far no country has recognised Somaliland’s sovereignty, although a number ofcountries have shown sympathy with its cause. South Africa has formally declaredthat Somaliland fulfils the Montevideo criteria for statehood and it also accepts theSomaliland passport.3 Furthermore, the African Union (AU) is consideringSomaliland’s application for membership and has indicated a willingness to dealwith it as an ‘outstanding case’ (ICG, 2006:3).

The first political election in Somaliland territory dates back to February 1960, whenthe Legislative Council of Somaliland was formed under the British colonialadministration. The decision by the elected council to unite with Italian adminis-tered Somalia was popularly supported, although discontent with the union beganto surface as northerners felt increasingly marginalised by the concentration ofsocio-economic and political developments in the south. Somaliland’s political elitenevertheless played a prominent role in Somalia’s post-independence politics andall the leaders of Somaliland’s present-day political parties were previously high-ranking civil servants or prominent politicians in Somalia.4 Alienation from theSomali state grew among northerners in the latter years of Siyad Barre’s militarydictatorship (1969-1991). The centralisation of political power by the regime and itspolicies of economic expropriation estranged the predominant Isaaq clan innorthwest Somalia. A large influx of Somali refugees from Ethiopia into Somalilandfollowing Somalia’s defeat in the 1987-88 war with Ethiopia over the Ogaden,further strained the economy and the environment of the region. The humanitarianassistance and preferential treatment accorded to the refugees by the government,most of who were from different clans to those resident in Somaliland, exacerbated

Somaliland: A New Democracy in the Horn of Africa? 463


social tensions. In 1981 mounting grievances with the regime led to the creation ofthe Somali National Movement (SNM) which fought a ten year insurgency againstthe Barre regime.

With its base in neighbouring Ethiopia, the SNM recruited its fighters mostly fromthe Isaaq clan. In 1988 a peace agreement between Somalia and Ethiopia forced theSNM to take desperate measures to attack and briefly capture the northern cities ofHargeisa and Burco. In response, the government bombed Hargeisa and carried outharsh reprisals against the Isaaq civilian population. Africa Watch (1990) estimatedthat between 1988 and 1989 up to 60,000 civilians were killed and half a millionpeople fled to Ethiopia. The ranks of the SNM were swollen by those who fled andmost non-Isaaq’s were purged from the SNM. Many members of the SNM who hadpreviously supported a united Somalia now argued for independence. Thedeclaration of Somaliland’s independence in May 1991 followed the overthrow ofSiyad Barre in January 1991 and was precipitated by the hurried installation of AliMahdi as President of Somalia by one faction of the United Somali Congress (USC)without prior consultation with the SNM.

The declaration of Somaliland’s independence was announced at a gathering of theSNM and northern clans in the city of Burco. With a hastily written Charter, the SNMwas granted a mandate by the gathering to govern for two years and to prepare thecountry for elections. This proved to be an impossible task given the government’slack of resources and the destruction wreaked upon the territory by ten years of war.Within a year splits inside the SNM and a failure to disarm clan militias threatenedto drag the country into civil war. This was averted through a series of clan peaceconferences (shiir beeleed) brokered by clan elders and backed by civil activists andbusiness people.

The conference held in the town of Borama over several months in 1993 proved to bedecisive. At Borama, a Charter for government and mechanisms for controlling anddisarming the militia were agreed, and the SNM relinquished power to a civiliangovernment whose President Mohamed Haji Ibrahim Egal was nominated by anassembly of elders. The structure of government agreed at Borama fused indigenousforms of social and political organisation with western-style institutions ofgovernment, in what became known as the ‘beel system’ of government. Thisconsisted of an executive president and a bicameral parliament, comprising anUpper House of Elders and Lower House of Representatives, whose members werenominated on a clan basis by an electoral college of elders (Bradbury et al. 2003).This clan-based power-sharing system provided the basis of government for eightyears. Despite two years of civil war between 1994 and 1996, it brought a high degreeof stability to Somaliland. The last country-wide shir beeleed was held in Hargeisa,the capital of Somaliland, from October 1996 to February 1997. In addition to re-electing Egal as president, the attendant elders approved a draft constitution and aschedule for a transition from the clan system of governance to a democratic, multi-party system. At first it appears perverse that the elders would support a move,which ostensibly sought to weaken their status, but there were a number of otherpressures – those from the diaspora to democratise. Another was a wish to get fundsfrom donors as well as international recognition, which even the elders were eagerlyawaiting. The Hargeisa conference marked the beginning of five years of stability inSomaliland.

The transition from a system of selected representation to elected representation inSomaliland’s political institutions has occurred in four stages. In May 2001 a

plebiscite approved a constitution, which provides the framework for a democraticpolitical system. This was followed by elections to 23 district councils in December2002, the formation of three national parties, presidential elections in April 2003and, finally, elections to the Lower House of Parliament in September 2005. All ofthese elections have been deemed relatively free and fair by foreign observers(Abokor, et al. 2005; Hansen & Linderman, 2003; Abokor, et al. 2002)

Meaningful & Extensive CompetitionBut to what extent are these new institutions producing a democratic transition asset out in our introduction and what role does local political culture play indetermining the nature of this potential democracy? The adoption of a multi-partypolitical system and elected representation requires an environment that allows formeaningful competition. And meaningful competition requires competing politicalalternatives. These alternatives need not be ideologically grounded, but must haveclearly distinguishable political agendas and strategies to deal with social, politicaland economic challenges. In Schumpeter’s (1976) version of democracy, an electionis more about removing political leaders that fail to perform, rather than a contestbetween ideological or political agendas. In Somaliland we see a hybrid form ofgovernment, which mixes clan and party politics and is conditioned by thehistorical layers of political institutions and actors.

Somaliland’s constitution limits the number of political parties to three. Of the six‘political organisations’ that fielded candidates in the district election, three wonsufficient support to become accredited national parties: UDUB (The UnitedDemocratic People’s Party), Kulmiye (The Unity Party) and UCID (The Justice andWelfare Party) (Bradbury et al. 2003). A critical challenge faced by the parties is tosustain themselves as political organisations that offer distinct policies and ameaningful political and social agenda.



In all three elections UDUB, the party founded by the late president MohamedIbrahim Egal and led by his successor President Dahir Rayale Kahin, hasmaintained its position as the governing party, holding the largest number of seatsin the district elections, narrowly winning the presidential race, and but loosing themajority in the parliament during the parliamentary elections. Although UDUBdoes not have an ideologically defined political programme, the party’s campaignfocused on the continuity of governance structures, stability and experience ofgovernment, which give UDUB some of the characteristics of a right of centre‘conservative’ party.5

Kulmiye is led by the veteran politician – Ahmed M. Mohamoud ‘Silanyo’ – a formerMinister of Planning (1969-1973) and Minister of Commerce (1973-1978, 1980-1982)in Siad Barre’s government, the longest running leader of the SNM between 1984and 1990. Silanyo was also Minister of Finance (1997-1999) and Minister ofPlanning (1999-2000) in two of Egal’s Somaliland administrations. The partyleadership also includes several other leaders from the SNM, and this is used bysome of it members to give the party a popular political legitimacy.6

The Justice and Welfare Party (UCID) is the party with the most clear-cut ideology,promoting itself as a Scandinavian-type social democratic party. This is influencedby its founder Faisal Ali Farah ‘Warabe’ who lived in Finland and several of itsfounding members have lived in Scandinavia.7

In the Horn of Africa, competition between political parties has often been off-set bya breakdown in party structures. In Ethiopia, for example, the opposition has beennotoriously fragmented and attempts to create larger political coalitions have beenmired with problems. Ruling parties in the region have also sought to engineer thefragmentation of opposition parties in order to entrench their own positions. Theyhave usually been more successful at maintaining their own party unity and loyalty,through use of money and state resources. However, they have also been affected bylack of party discipline.

Such political party fragmentation was also prominent in the last period ofdemocratic government in Somalia, between 1960 and 1969. The first independentgovernment of Somalia in 1960 was a coalition of four major political parties: thesouthern Somali Youth League (SYL), which was the dominant party, the northernbased United Somali Party (USP), the Somali National League (SNL), and theHisbiga Digil Mirifle (comprising members from the Digil Mirifle clan). The coalitioncollapsed when Muhamed Haji Ibrahim Egal and several other prominent membersof the SNL withdrew and joined with politicians from the SYL to form the SomaliNational Congress (SNC). Although this was a demonstration of national unity, therealignment of politicians also illustrated the weakness of party discipline. The SYLsucceeded in retaining power in the 1964 election, in which 21 parties participated,8

but the lack of party discipline was to have extreme consequences. Parliamentaryvoting on certain issues was done in secret which weakened the party’s control overits members; parliamentarians who nominally belonged to the SYL often voted withthe opposition. Consequently, despite SYL’s overall majority, the government cameclose to resignation in 1966, because it lost a vote in the parliament. The weakness ofparty structures had a clear influence in the 1967 elections, during which Egaldefected from his new party and rejoined SYL. The Party fragmentation normallyoccurred along lineage lines. This reached a new extreme in the 1969 election whichwas contested by 62 parties, mostly representing one man and his lineage. TheSomali Republic was fundamentally damaged by the conspiracy of silence that

concealed the extent of clan influence over politicians. In the case of Somaliland,being open about it and examining the extent of clan power in politics is essential ifthe country’s fledgling political democracy is to develop and strengthen.

However, the fragmentation of the parties in the Somali republic was also due toother factors. Party fragmentation was fuelled by the way candidates were requiredto raise their own funds for their campaigns. As the parties lacked the resources tosupport their candidates a majority of the 1,002 candidates standing in the 1969elections were self-funded. I. M. Lewis estimated that some may have spent as muchas £15,000 of their own money, a considerable investment at a time when the annualbudget for the entire country was only £15 million (Lewis, 1972:397). The lack ofparty support meant that the candidates relied on their clans to raise the fundsneeded, being one of the few efficient fundraising structures.9 As many of thecandidates were former civil servants who had quit their jobs to stand forparliament, candidates and clans had an interest to see a return on theirinvestments. This may have motivated the mass defection from the opposition to theSYL after the election once its victory was confirmed. Given the limited reach of theSomali media at the time and high illiteracy rates, much of the public wasuninformed about policy issues, and understandably voted according to lineageloyalties. The influence of the clan system on politics was patently obvious toSomalis. But it was the rampant misuse of government funds during the 1969election, and the use of the army for campaign purposes, that caused widespreadpublic dissatisfaction with the government and helped to pave the way for thedictatorship of Siyad Barre. This was a sad end for a country that had experienced inthe 1960s the first peaceful democratic transition of power in Africa.

There are some striking continuities between the 1960-1969 political process inSomalia and the legislative elections in Somaliland in 2005, which highlight some ofthe challenges of instilling a democratic system in Somaliland. One such similarityis the continuing influence of ethnic or clan based loyalties. Although theSomaliland elections were intended to mark a progression from clan-based politicsto multi-party politics, the Somali lineage system continues to have a stronginfluence on the political system. During the parliamentary elections, clan leadershad a role in nominating party candidates, providing the parties with lists ofcandidates from which to select those most able to run for office. Candidatesinterviewed by the authors estimated that it was necessary to spend US$30,000 torun a campaign. As the parties had few resources, candidates relied on their ownresources or funds raised through their clans to finance their campaigns.

Furthermore, there was little to distinguish between the parties in terms of policies.Voters were therefore more easily mobilised around parochial clan issues andpromises of gifts than by political arguments. Ideological cleavages between theparties were either non-existent (between Kulmiye and UDUB) or, in the case ofUCID, so weakly developed that even the parties’ own MPs failed to realise that theparty was supposed to be Social-Democratic/Socialist. The extent of vote-buyingwas unclear, but was a troubling development in Somaliland. For MPs nominatedby their clan and reliant on them for finance, the potential for a conflict of loyaltybetween the clan and party must have been strong. This was illustrated in theparliamentary elections, when five out of six candidates from the Essa clan decidedto boycott the election over the allocation of parliamentary seats to the Essa, despiteheavy pressures from their respective parties.



The situation in Somaliland is also characterised by relatively young parties madeup of older political organisations and factions. Kulmiye incorporates severalpolitical factions. One includes former SNM military commanders who wereassociated with a marxist tendency within the movement and are commonlyreferred to as the ‘Red Flag’ (calan cas).10 Another comprises a small religious group,and a third includes members of the ‘Hargeisa Group’ of civil activists famous fortheir stand against the Barre regime.11 Although the name Kulmiye – the ‘Gathering’or ‘Unity’ – implies that it is a party that unites disparate tendencies, thesedifferences are a challenge to party discipline. Prior to the parliamentary elections,UCID had avoided any challenges to party unity, partly because it had limitedsupport. However, following the big gains it made in the parliamentary elections,the party may begin to experience internal divisions.

In 1960, conscious of the problems associated with political parties, Somalilanderstook steps to minimise the potential for political fragmentation by restricting thenumber of parties to three and banning MPs from changing parties whilst inparliament. However, this does not guarantee party discipline in parliament today,where the lack of a party whip leaves room for MPs to vote against their own party.UCID indeed faced a rebellion from one of its MPs in the first session of parliamentand sought to remove him from parliament by ejecting him from the party. The casewas sent to court and UCID lost (interview with Warabe, 2005). One strategy byUCID to instil party discipline has been to inculcate a Scandinavian-style socialdemocratic ideology among its MPs. But, the ideological consciousness amongstMPs is generally weak. UDUB can potentially use the state coffers to create partyloyalty, by bestowing rewards on loyal MPs. However, not only is this illegal, buthistory also illustrates that such strategies do not necessarily guarantee success.

Since the elections in September 2005, it appears that public profile of the parties hasdiminished. Offices have been closed due to lack of resources. The parliamentarysub-committees have cross-party membership and by all reports are not split alongparty lines. There is more coherence amongst the candidates of the two oppositionalparties, but at times it seems like the coherence have merged the two party groupsinto one. The scramble by politicians after the district elections for posts in the newnational parties and the alliances of convenience that were formed, illustrated theopportunistic nature of politics and the absence of loyalty to the parties and theirpolicies. The parties’ links with and control over members elected in their name tothe district councils has been tenuous. Paradoxically, party discipline and unitycould worsen if Somaliland receives international recognition, and if the onepolitical issue that unites the parties and their members is removed and thegovernment begins to benefit from direct foreign support. Several conflicts betweenthe lower house of the parliament and the cabinet of president Kahin has emergedduring the spring of 2007. The electoral commission nominated by the president wasvoted down by the lower house of parliament, which it according to the constitutionhad the power to do. However, the parliament prolonged the mandate of the sittingcommission, going beyond the powers granted to it by the constitution. Kahinunconstitutionally vetoed the budget suggested by parliament, a provocative budgetwhich suggested cutting the expenses of the presidents’ office back to the 2004 level.The paradox is that these issues, which are indicators of a struggle betweenparliament and president partly because of lack of precedence, might prevent theemergence of fissures within the parties, they create the need for unified fronts, andpolitical issues larger than the quarrel over the use of resources for local patronage.

The limited experience of conducting politics through political parties and the weakparty structures increase the likelihood that clan will have a large influence onSomaliland politics. The politicians will have a form of constituency, but it will be aclan based. This has several consequences. The influence of the clan means thatwomen are under-represented in political institutions. Moreover, the mix of clan andparty nominations lack transparency and leaves the system open to clientism asformal party rules for nomination are disregarded.12 These problems are likelyincrease popular pressure for a review of the constitutional restrictions on thenumber of political parties or the development of mechanisms that would enable thede-selection of a party that fails to deliver. In April 2007, a new party, Qaran, wasestablished. Since the Somaliland constitution (articles 22 and 23) allowsSomalilenders to create political parties, it is only the participation in elections thatis restricted; the party lives an uneasy existence and its status in upcoming electionsis uncertain at best.

Political ParticipationAs we outlined at the beginning, for Sorensen public participation in the selection ofpolitical representatives and in policy formulation is a defining feature of ademocratic system. Since public pressure forced the SNM leadership to break withSomalia in 1991, public participation has been a feature of the political system. TheBorama conference and other clan conferences were large-scale public consultationexercises. The Somaliland constitution enshrined the right of universal suffrage andchanged the system of selecting government from a college of elders to individualvoters. The level of public participation in the elections and degree to whichcommunities in Somaliland are adequately represented in parliament can thereforebe a measure of Somaliland’s democratic credentials.

A total of 670,320 valid votes were counted in the 2005 parliamentary election. Theturn-out was lower than some had speculated and less than half the 1.3 millionballot papers that were printed for the election. Nevertheless, it was considerablyhigher than in the preceding district and presidential elections, with turn-outs of440,067 valid votes and a total of 488,543 respectively. The absence of a census andvoter registration or a post-election voter survey makes it difficult to determinewhether the turn-out was a reasonable representation of the eligible votingpopulation in Somaliland. Determining the representative nature of the poll is mademore complex by some marked differences in regional votes between the threeelections.13 However, the fact that in the three elections the western regions ofWoqooyi Galbeed (Hargeisa region), Awdal and Saaxil accounted for over 60 percent of the votes cast, is probably a reasonable reflection of the concentration ofSomaliland’s population in the west of the country. Furthermore, the fact that thelargest numbers of votes were cast in Woqooyi Galbeed also attests to the rapidgrowth of the capital Hargeisa since the end of the war.

These regional patterns of voting also reflect historic socio-economic differencesbetween Somaliland’s regions. Better transport and infrastructure, shorter distancesfor voters to travel, better media coverage, more intense campaigning and votereducation and a more sedentary population also facilitated a higher turn-out in thewest. The smaller number of votes in Somaliland’s three eastern regions of Togdheer,Sanaag and Sool can, in part, be accounted for by the smaller population and the factthat it is more nomadic than in the west of the country. Despite efforts to extend theelections to rural areas, the infrastructure required for elections favors settled rather



than nomadic populations. It is likely, therefore, that a substantial part of thenomadic population, which accounts for a significant proportion of Somaliland’spopulation, did not vote. The lower poll in eastern Somaliland is also accounted forby the fact that several districts of Sool and eastern Sanaag regions and one districtof Togdheer did not participate in the polls. Somaliland’s authority over theseregions is contested by the Puntland State of Somalia to the east, and since 2003Puntland has taken control over several of the larger towns.14 Threats frompopulations in these regions and the Puntland authorities to disrupt the electionsleft the Somaliland Electoral Commission with no option but to ‘postpone’ electionsin several districts in these areas. This partially accounts for the lower overall poll ineastern Somaliland.

Clan loyalty was very important in the politics of the Somali Republic 1960-1969despite claims by politicians that it had little influence. The Somali Republic wasfundamentally damaged by the conspiracy of silence that concealed the extent ofclan influence over politicians. In the case of Somaliland, being open about andexamining the extent of clan power in politics is essential if the country’s fledglingpolitical democracy is to develop and strengthen. The non-participation in theelections of most of the Warsangeli clan populating eastern Sanaag and theDulbahante clan in Sool and Togdheer in the elections has important implicationsfor Somaliland. The participation of people in these areas could have affected theoutcome of the elections. While the 2002 district election to a certain extentconsolidated the Somaliland state by establishing popularly elected councils thatrecognise the authority of the Hargeisa government and pay taxes to it, the non-participation of populations in eastern Sanaag and Sool effectively served to shrinkthe Somaliland polity and make politics in Somaliland more exclusive (Bradbury etal. 2003). The lack of political structures that recognise the authority of thegovernment in Hargeisa weakens the Somaliland government’s claim to representthe people of these regions.

As noted, the adoption of the multi-party system has done little to move Somalilandaway from clan-based politics. For example, the 2003 elections were postponedseveral times until agreement was reached over the demarcation of constituencyboundaries and a formula was agreed for distributing the 82 parliamentary seats toSomaliland’s six regions. The first postponement occurred when Gadabuursi eldersand MPs from Awdal region rejected the election bill on the grounds that they wouldend up with fewer seats than they held. A feature of the power-sharing beel systemhas been its inclusiveness in terms of clan representation. Since 1991, non-Isaaqclans have been represented in both the executive and legislative wings ofgovernment and after the 1997 Hargeisa conference, minority groups gainedrepresentation in the legislature. But the adoption of a majoritarian electoral systemhas produced ‘winners’ and ‘losers’. Although the three party system encouragedthe emergence of multi-clan alliances, at a local level people voted along clan lines.The clan composition of district councils reflects the major clans in the district, whilesmaller clans and minorities are not represented.

The 2005 parliamentary elections did not produce any dramatic changes in popularsupport for the parties, but the clan composition of parliament did change (Abokor etal. 2006). The clearest changes were the increase in Isaaq and Gadabuursirepresentation in parliament, and the decline in the number of seats held by theHarti and ‘minorities’. Despite an increase the popular vote, the Dhulbahante andWarsengeli people of Sool and eastern Sanaag lost four parliamentary seats. This

will only increase their sense of marginalisation within Somaliland. The number ofEsa MPs also declined, largely as a result of four candidates withdrawing from theelection prior to polling day. The ‘minorities’, who gained representation inSomaliland’s second parliament, retained only one seat in the legislature.

Within the majority Isaaq clan family, the three largest clans – the Habar Awal,Garhajis and Habr Jeclo’ – all gained seats, while the smaller Arab and Ayub bothlost seats (Ibid.). Within the Isaaq the most significant change was the increase inHabar Yunis politicians in parliament. The clan is represented in all the parties andacross Somaliland (with the exception of Awdal region) and they potentiallycommand the single largest ‘clan block’ of votes in parliament. This is a significantchange from the mid-1990s, when the Habar Yunis belief that they were under-represented in parliament was one of the grievances behind the civil war. Theequitable representation of the three major Isaaq clans should mitigate such ructionsin the future. Other changes can be found at the level of sub-clans, with some of thelarger and politically stronger lineages losing ground to smaller lineages, due to thelarger lineage fielding too many candidates. The impact of these changes, if any, willonly become apparent over time. The lack of participation and representationamongst the Harti clans of eastern Somaliland, however, has to be addressedbecause in the long term it could destabilize the country.

That clans function as a unit of political mobilisation also leads to a loweringpolitical participation, particularly along gender lines. The beel political system wascriticised, because it excluded women from representative politics. The Somalilandconstitution gives women the same political rights as men. In all three Somalilandelections, women exercised their right to vote by turning out in large numbers. Veryfew women, however, were put forward by the political organisations as candidates.And those who were nominated stood little chance of being elected as they were putlow down on the candidate list. Women were selected by the parties rather thanbeing proposed by the clan, but as they could not guarantee to deliver the vote of theirclan there was no incentive for the parties to select female candidates. Interviewscollected by one of the authors indicates that the lack of will to vote for femalecandidates again was partly a result of the structure of the clan system in which awife is often married into a different clan, creating doubts about her loyalties bothtowards the husband and the father’s clan. Consequently, only two women fromover 2,000 candidates were elected onto municipal councils and only two of the 246parliamentary seats were won by women (Ibid.). Accordingly, women – whoconstitute a majority of the adult population and the voting public – and whocontribute significantly to local government revenues through small businesses,have no direct voice in these councils and have only a marginal influence inparliament. Their lack of success has convinced women advocating for politicalparticipation to advocate for a quota of seats for women in parliament.15

However, it is important to underline the successful aspects of Somaliland politicalparticipation. While party-based politics has not removed the influence of clanpolitics, the large number of candidates in the elections, the large turn-out of votersand the active participation of the clans did ensure the broad participation of thepublic in the electoral process, with the exception of Sool and eastern Sanaag. Thenature of political debate has also ensured that the elections linked local district andregional politics to national politics. Rather than Hargeisa dominating the nationaldebate, therefore, local politics have had an influence on national-level politics andlikewise the election results will impact on political relations at a local level.



Civil Liberties, Political Liberties & Access to Mass MediaPolitical philosophers, from John Stuart Mill (1989) to Amartya Sen (1999), haveargued that the existence of a free press is essential to a democratic system, as ameans of preventing conflict and protecting civil liberties. Mill (1989:19-25), forexample, argued that a public press that creates an arena for free debate ensures atransparent political system. The key problem is that the print and electronic mediahas only a limited coverage in Somaliland, with the newspapers having a smallcirculation. Four media companies publish four dailies in Somali, three weeklies inEnglish and three weeklies in Arabic. The biggest Somaliland paper is Jamhuriya,which only has a daily circulation of 2,000-2,500 copies, as well as 1,000 in London.The smallest, the government-owned Mandeq has a circulation of approximately 500(Dualeh, 2005:155-156). Likewise radio (with the exception of the BBC) andtelevision broadcasts having a restricted coverage. This limited media presencemade it difficult to promote a Somaliland-wide political discourse during theelections.

Somaliland toyed with the idea of adopting a press law based on the Ethiopian onebut rejected the idea, and the Somaliland press is consequently freer than inEthiopia. However, reporters who criticize government are regularly jailed. In 2004,the Somali Journalist Network reported four different cases of journalists beingarrested on duty. Nonetheless, the media get away with severe criticism of thegovernment, and papers such as Hatuf and Jamhuriya regularly publish highlycritical articles, as well as cartoon caricatures of prominent politicians. Seeminglythe relationship between the Somaliland government and its press were developingto the better, and was of an entirely different nature than the equivalent relationshipin neighbouring countries as Ethiopia, but the trend changed.

On 2 January 2007, Yosuf Gabobe Yusuf Abdi Gabobe, Somaliland Times editor(Somaliland Times being the English version of Hatuf) and also the chairman ofHaatuf Media Network and Ali Abdi Dini the editor of Haatuf daily newspaper werearrested together with Mohamed Omar, because of a critical article accusing thepresident’s wife of corruption. It is open to debate whether the articles that thecharge was based on were defamatory according to Somaliland law. However, TheSomaliland courts choose to follow the chaotic precedence from Ethiopia, invokingthe harsh Somali Penal law of 1963 instead of Somalilands press law, this althoughthe latter law explicitly states that it should have precedence.16 The fact that one-third of the printed press in Somaliland (the Hatuf media group’s newspapers) wasseverely hit (if not destroyed; the license of the Hatuf media group was withdrawnby the time of writing) by the court actions, show how vulnerable the Somalilandpress is. Although the charged journalists were pardoned by the president becauseof foreign pressure, the above described juridical precedence has not been revoked

All the Somali papers covered the political debates during all of the elections, whilealso discussing clan issues. Themes, such as corruption within the government,government gerrymandering, the contested eastern regions, the level of tax inBerbera port and its impact on trade were all covered by the press. The small numberof newspapers and their financial fragility means that the print media is vulnerableto political manipulation and the suppression of free debate. Additionally, TheSomaliland newspapers are largely an urban phenomenon that have limited impactin a country that has one of the highest illiteracy rates in the world (World Bank/UNDP, 2003). This is a serious obstacle to strengthening democracy in Somaliland.Political issues are not brought out to the countryside, opening debates on, for

example, the influence of clan considerations on voting preferences, as well as ofoutright buying of votes.

Radio, or TV, could offset the effect of illiteracy, as well as the limited circulation ofthe printed press. However, the range on the Somaliland radio and TV stations islimited. Moreover, the largest broadcasting institutions, Somaliland National TVand Radio Hargeisa, are owned by the government, and their coverage is limited toareas around Hargeisa and Sahil region.17The range of information available to thepublic, including exposure to political debates, is therefore limited.18 In addition tothis, the broadcast media is biased towards the government. Somaliland NationalTV coverage of the 2005 elections was clearly skewed to the government and RadioHargeisa allocated more time to the government candidates.19 Ironically, the onlymedia that is able to reach the rural nomadic population is the BBC Somali Service.However, the BBC is restricted from covering political debates in Somaliland indepth, because it has to treat Somaliland on equal footing with the other parts inSomalia.

This lack of media scrutiny is exacerbated by a weak civil society. A strong civilsociety is often claimed to be important element in a functioning democracy.According to Francis Fukuyama (2004:30) it has the possibility to enhanceaccountability. However, the civil society in Somaliland is elite driven, oftendependent on external donors. The relatively small size of the Somaliland eliteensures that connections between local NGOs, parties, and clans are strong, andcivil society organisations are seldom seen as neutral. Moreover, although beingreasonably efficient in educating voters during the elections, they generally fail toengage the Somaliland rural population outside election times.

ConclusionsThe series of democratic elections since 2002 have brought significant changes to thepolitical system in Somaliland. They have served to consolidate Somaliland asterritorially-defined political entity, with all the regions within its borders (with theexception of Sool and eastern Sanaag) having elected councils and electedrepresentatives in government. The introduction of universal suffrage and thecreation of political parties that are not based on clan mark a significant attempt tochange the system of kinship-based politics. The achievements in Somaliland are inmany ways remarkable in a region more often associated with authoritarian regimesand conflict.

There are however challenges looming over Somaliland’s new democracy.Somaliland’s political parties are weak, due to their young age, lack of resources,and lack of ideology. The continuing influence of clan politics is clear. While thisensures extensive political participation, it also weakens the function of the politicalparties. This is unlikely to change while the rural population remains outside thepolitical discussions. Factors as the lack of party funding for candidates (creatingdependency on funds provided by clan), young and fragile party organisations, lackof media channels to channel the themes political discussions to the country side,will contribute to an a large group of clan focused voters in Somaliland. If theSomaliland media fails to politicise the rural population, their electoral choices willbe influenced by the clan and the gifts they bestow, in this sense Somaliland mightfail to politicise its electorate, they will be kept outside the political discussions, onlyaware of clan factors. As a result significant segments of the Somaliland populationfailed to participate in the elections and are not well represented in the parliament.



The adoption of winner-takes-all majoritarian electoral system has done nothing toenhance the political participation of women and the representation of minorityclans. A lack of resources and a robust legal framework restricts the ability of themedia to play a role in safeguarding civil liberties. This all means that Somaliland’sfledgling democracy could unravel. As Charles Tilly (2003:37) has commented,‘contrary to the comforting image of democracy as a secure cave into which peoplecan retreat forever from the buffering of political storms, most regimes that havetaken significant steps toward democracies for the last two centuries have later de-democratised, at least temporarily’.

The experiences of neighbouring countries, as well as the history of the SomaliRepublic, indicates that this potential ‘de-democratisation’ need to be addressed.Somaliland’s solutions might also be interesting in a region with many politicalsystems facing similar challenges; hopefully Somaliland can show the way tohandle such problems. Indeed it must address these issues, or it might follow themany negative examples of other entities in the region.

Stig Jarle Hansen & Mark Bradbury are consultant social analysts to internationalaid organisations; e-mail: [email protected].

Endnotes

1. Somaliland is a Muslim country, and culture, social customs and the legal system are allinfluenced by Islam, and by economic ties to the Middle East

2. For a comprehensive discussion over the issue see Still (1981)

3. Personal communication Iqbal Jhazbhay

4. For example, the current Minister of Finance, Hussein Ali Dualeh, participated in a coup attemptin 1961 aimed at restoring Somaliland’s independence, but went on to hold important positions inthe Somali army, and in the Somali diplomatic services during the civilian governments of the 1960sand during the Siyad Barre years. (Dualeh, 2002: 1-103)

5. This is reflected in its name, udub, which refers to the forked pole that supports the roof of thetraditional hut, which is also the party’s symbol.

6. Its Vice Chairperson is Abdiraman Aw Ali ‘Tolwa’, also a veteran of the SNM.

7. The party’s third chairperson, Amina H Mohamoud Warsame studied in Sweden; the AgriculturalSecretary Dr. Cabdiraxmaan Jaamac Ducaale, has a Masters degree from Norway.

8. Of the 123 seats SYL won 73, the new SNC won 11, and the Digil Mirifle party won 3.

9. All of the new MPs defected except for the former prime minister Abdirazak Haji Hussein

10. The nick-name calan cas has long been used to disparage groups with left-wing tendencies, andmore generally to any group that opposes the incumbent government and the status quo. Duringthe SNM years it referred to a group of Soviet-trained military officers, several of whom wereimprisoned by Ahmed Silaniyo while he was Chairman of the SNM. Several of these officers becameallies of Silaniyo and Suleiman Gaal in the early 1990s in opposition to Somaliland’s firstgovernment.

11. Not all members of the Hargeisa Group, also known as UFFO, are members of Kulmiye.

12. Somaliland already has a political structure that can take advantage of the positive sides of theclan system in the clan based and clan-selected Upper House of Elders, known as the Guurti.

13. In Awdal region, for example, the vote changed from 24 per cent of the total vote to 14 per centand back to 24 per cent in successive elections, while in Togdheer the vote changed from 15 per cent


in the district elections to 24 per cent in the presidential elections and back to 17 per cent in theparliamentary elections. See Aboker et al. (2006:19)

14. The elders of the Dhulbahunte and Warsangeli clans living in these regions initially consented tothe declaration of Somaliland’s independence and the political arrangements agreed at the 1993Borama conference. But a growing sense of political marginalisation within Somaliland led many ofthem to throw their weight behind the formation of the semi-autonomous Puntland State ofSomalia in 1998, which is based on an alliance of Harti clans, which includes the Dhulbahunte andWarsangeli and the Majeerteen of north-east Somalia. The contested authority in Sool and easternSanaag has mostly been peacefully managed, but in December 2004 the Somaliland and Puntlandarmies briefly clashed. A ceasefire currently pertains in the regions and prisoners were exchanged inNovember 2005.

15. The previous parliament rejected this proposal in 2003.16. The Ethiopian laws regulating the press are confusing and overlapping, the oldest are from thereign of emperor Haile Seilasse

17. In 2002 SLNTV had slightly more than 2000 paying viewers, the Burco branch had 100, andthere were estimated to be 400 pirate viewers in the entire country. The total number of viewers wasestimated to be 15,000, by Boobe Yuusuf Ducaale (2005).

18. A private radio station – Radio Las Anod – does operate in the disputed Sool region in easternSomaliland.

19. On the 13 September the Somaliland National TV gave the entire evening program to UDUBfrom 8 p.m. to midnight, without allotting the same time to the other parties. On 14 September,after receiving written complaints from the opposition parties, the Electoral Monitoring Boardwarned the SLNTV authorities to desist from violating the Code of Conduct. After an additionalwarning, and a formal letter sent to the Director of the SLNTV station, as well as the President andall the leaders of the opposition parties, the TV station changed their coverage, and the twoopposition parties were generally satisfied.

Interviews by SJH

Hatuf editor in chief, Yousif Gabobe, 9 September 2005; Jamhurya editor in chief, Hassan Saed Ali,9 September 2005; UCID chairman, Faisal Ali Farah Warabe, 11 September, 2005; SecretaryGeneral of Kulmiye, Daud M.Gelle, 17 September 2005.

Bibliography

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Abokor, A., M. Bradbury, P. Hoyland, S.Kibble & D. Ossiyah (2002), ‘Very much aSomaliland run election’, London: CIIR.

Africa Watch (1990), ‘Somalia: A Governmentat War with its Own People’, Washington/NewYork: The Africa Watch Committee.

Ake, C. (1993), ‘The Unique Case of AfricanDemocracy’, International Affairs 69,3.

Bradbury, M, A. Abokor & H. Yusuf (2003),‘Somaliland: Choosing politics over violence’ inReview of African Political Economy 97,30, pp 455-478.

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Ducaale, B. (2005), ‘The role of media in politicalreconstruction’ in M. Bryden (ed.), RebuildingSomalia, Hargeisa: WSP.

Dualeh, H. (2002), Search for a New SomaliIdentity, Nairobi: Dualeh.

Fukuyama, Francis (2004), State-Building,Governance and World Order in the 21st Century,Ithaca, New York.

Hansen, S. J. & B. Linderman (2003),‘Somaliland: Presidential Election 2003’, NordemReport 8,3, pp 1- 48.

Held, D. (1987), Models of Democracy, Oxford:Polity Press.

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Kier, E. (1996), Imagining War, Princeton:Princeton University Press.

Lewis, I. (1961), A pastoral democracy: A study ofpastoralism and politics among the northern Somaliof the Horn of Africa, London: Oxford UniversityPress; (1972), ‘The politics of the 1969 SomaliCoup’, Journal of Modern African Studies 10,3,pp 383-408.

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Mill, J. S. (1989), On Liberty, Cambridge:Cambridge University Press,

Sen, A. (1999), ‘Democracy as a UniversalValue’, Journal of Democracy 10,3, pp 3-17.

Schumpeter, J. (1976), Capitalism, Socialism andDemocracy, London: Allen and Unwin.

Somaliland Ministry of Foreign Affairs (2002),‘The Case for Somaliland’s InternationalRecognition as an Independent State’, Hargeisa:Somaliland Government.

Sorensen, G. (1998), Democracy and Democratiza-tion, Boulder: Westview Press.

Still J.(1981),‘Political equality and electionsystems’, Ethics 91, 3, pp 375-394.

Tilly, C. (2003), ‘Inequality, Democratizationand De-Democratization’, Sociological Theory, 21,3, pp 37-43.

World Bank / UNDP (2002), ‘Socio-EconomicSurvey’, Report No 1, Somalia Watching Brief,Nairobi.


Poverty, Petroleum & Policy Intervention:Lessons from the Chad-Cameroon Pipeline

Nikola Kojucharov

The ‘resource curse’ – the tendency of resource wealth to impair naturalresource exporting countries on various economic and political dimensions– has shown some of its strongest manifestations in Africa’s petro-states. Forthis reason, the World Bank’s recent attempt to engineer an accountable andtransparent oil economy in one of Africa’s poorest and most corrupt countries– Chad – deserves close scrutiny and critical analysis. Although the WorldBank has conducted the Chad-Cameroon Pipeline Project with the belief thatthe ‘resource curse’ can be mitigated through sound economic and fiscalpolicies, the results thus far suggest that Chad is doomed to repeat an alltoo familiar fate of economic turmoil and political strife. This article drawson the disappointing realities since Chad’s first oil exports, and examinesthree major factors underlying Chad’s unsuccessful conversion of oil revenuesinto poverty reduction: institutional capacity constraints, socio-politicalincompatibilities, and subversive interactions with external lenders. Althoughthe majority of critics attribute the project’s failures to the World Bank’s policychoices and management, this analysis suggests that the project has beenhindered more by the external nature of the World Bank’s policy interventionthan by any particular design flaws. Given the shortcomings of the Bank’sintervention, this article considers plausible revisions to the project, and drawspolicy implications for future development endeavours of this nature.

The economic promise of natural resource abundance has proven a bitter reality forcountless nations around the world. Time after time, countries exporting resourcessuch as oil and diamonds have seen enormous amounts of revenue pass throughtheir hands, yet have emerged with fragile economies in which resource wealth hasexacerbated the very problems it was envisioned to solve. This ‘resource curse’1 hasshown some of its strongest manifestations in sub-Saharan Africa’s petro-states. InNigeria, over 30 years of oil exports and $350 billion in associated revenues havecoincided with a 34% increase in the number of people living on less than $1 a day(Pegg, 2005:20). In Angola, Gabon, and Sudan, oil has not only induced economicinstability, but also encouraged massive corruption and civil conflict (Pegg, 2005:2).

Despite these grim realities, the ‘resource curse’ is not an inherent feature of all naturalresource exporters. Botswana, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Chile are some economieswhich have transformed their resource endowments into substantial growth andpoverty reduction. Their success has fostered a growing belief among the internationalcommunity that the ‘resource curse’ may ultimately be corrected, if not prevented, withthe appropriate mix of economic policy and fiscal responsibility.



Africa’s newest oil exporter, Chad, has served as the premier ‘test site’ in which thelessons of both successful and failed resource exporters have been synthesized intoa set of ‘anti-resource curse’ policies. As one of the poorest countries in the world,Chad did not have the financial or institutional capacity to extract its landlocked oilreserves and bring them to market. Realising this situation, the World Bank and itslending agencies2 joined forces with a consortium of oil companies and interna-tional creditors in order to finance Chad’s oil development, and to demonstrate thatpolicy intervention3 could reverse the ‘resource curse’. Consequently, since itsinception in 2000, the $4.2 billion Chad-Cameroon Petroleum Development andPipeline Project (referred to hereafter as the CCPP) has represented not only thelargest private sector investment in Africa, but also the single best case study ofexternal policy management as a weapon against the ‘resource curse’ (Gary &Reisch, 2005:8).

The success or failure of the CCPP is therefore significant on several levels. On onelevel, the project is an application of economic theory to government policy. As such,its outcomes can reveal the potential challenges of imposing general policy modelson countries with highly individualised political and economic characteristics. Onanother level, it embodies a foreign interference in the economic sovereignty of anation, and thus offers insights into the interaction between powerful internationallenders and small and impoverished borrowing nations.

In analysing these two levels, this article poses the following key questions: 1) towhat extent has the World Bank followed best practice in its structuring of the Chad-Cameroon Pipeline Project? 2) what results has the Bank’s intervention produced sofar and 3) why have these early results occurred, and what do they reveal about theeffectiveness of policy intervention against the ‘resource curse’?

This article finds that oil has not improved Chad’s standard of living. The countryremains plagued by a lack of basic infrastructure, energy, and health services, andthe majority of people continue to live on less than $1 a day. Moreover, thepersistence of such deplorable conditions has placed extreme strains on the CCPP,and has spawned a wave of threats and accusations amongst the project’s principalactors. A consensus has emerged that these early CCPP failures are largely due toflaws in the World Bank’s policy choices and project implementation (Pegg, 2005;Gary & Reisch, 2005; IAG, 2004, 2005). However, such arguments ignore thesignificance of the source of the intervention. By designing all the rules for revenuemanagement, the World Bank stripped Chad of its oil sovereignty. The foreignownership that resulted has proven to be a major source of the project’s conflicts andcontinued renegotiation. This article therefore posits that the early success of theCCPP has been hindered more by the external nature of the World Bank’s policyintervention than by any particular flaws in the substance and implementation ofthe project’s policies. This argument proceeds as follows.

First, we outline the mechanisms which enable the ‘resource curse’, and thendescribe the best-practice policies the World Bank has chosen to address thesemechanisms. After demonstrating that four years of oil flows under this policystructure have failed to improve the living conditions of Chad’s people, we examinethree potential factors underpinning the CCPP’s shortcomings: institutionalcapacity constraints, socio-political incompatibilities, and subversive interactionsbetween Chad and the project’s external actors. Further analysis reveals that these

three causal factors are all symptoms of the World Bank’s external policyintervention. The limitations of external intervention therefore explain the discrep-ancy between a well-informed development project and its sub-par results. Weconclude by considering plausible revisions to the CCPP, and by drawingimplications for future projects of this nature.

The ‘Resource Curse’The ‘resource curse’ is an extensively documented economic phenomenon. In aseminal study, Jeffrey Sachs and Andrew Warner (1995) used a sample of 95developing countries from 1970-1990 to demonstrate a robust negative correlationbetween natural resource exports and economic growth. Richard Auty (2001) alsofound that between 1960 and 1990, resource abundant countries experienced GDPper capita growth rates that were two to three times lower than those of resource poorcountries. These empirical realities raise the key question, ‘why have resource-richcountries have performed so poorly?’

The mechanisms that transform large resource revenues into poor economicperformance can be grouped into two categories – economic and behavioural. Bothaffect the accumulation and distribution of wealth within a country, but theeconomic mechanisms stem from forces such as exchange rates and commodityprices, while behavioural mechanisms are mainly issues of governance and fiscalmanagement.

Economic MechanismsThe economic mechanism most closely associated with the ‘resource curse’ is the‘Dutch Disease,4 which distorts the domestic economy in two ways. First, the exportof the country’s resource leads to a large inflow of revenue which raises people’sincomes and subsequently their demand for local goods and services. The increaseddemand for these products drives up prices in the local economy, and if oil revenuesare not evenly distributed among the population, those at the bottom end of thedistribution suffer an increase in their cost of living. Second, rising domestic pricesmean that local goods become more expensive relative to foreign goods (Corden &Neary, 1982:830). This relative price change is an appreciation of the real exchangerate, and harms domestic exporters by making it harder for them to sell their goodsabroad at competitive prices.5

The other major economic mechanism stems from the vulnerability of resourceexporters to shocks in international commodity markets. The market prices ofnatural resources such as oil, gas, and minerals are very volatile in the globaleconomy. Governments therefore frequently face inconsistent revenue streams, andfind it difficult to follow disciplined fiscal policies and to plan long-term budgets.Public expenditures that are earmarked during boom periods cannot be sustainedduring bust periods unless massive deficits are incurred (Tsalik, 2003:7-8). As aresult, resource-exporting economies often find themselves pressed for funds, and,amidst mounting debts, are unable to grow.

While these economic mechanisms create obvious hardships for resource exporters,not all countries have allowed these pressures to negatively impact their growth.Consequently, there seems to be a crucial intervening variable – governance6 – thatdetermines the net effect of resource wealth on economic growth (Ross, 1999:5).

Poverty, Petroleum & Policy Intervention: The Chad-Cameroon Pipeline 479


Behavioural MechanismsIn turn, the second set of ‘resource curse’ mechanisms stem from the fiscal behaviourof governments. Resource wealth expands the horizons of governments and createsincentives for large expenditures. This spending tendency is reinforced by citizens’expectations for quick and substantial results. Consequently, governments tend toinvest in grandiose infrastructure projects which, while impressing citizens andpromising modernisation and development, often carry low returns (Yates,1996:25). Evidence of this behaviour, such as a mountain-top resort in Venezuelaand an extravagant new airport in Saudi Arabia, is abundant in resource-richnations throughout the world (Gary & Karl, 2003:22).

Although these lavish investments quickly deplete public funds, societal pressuresfor spending and growth remain. As a result, governments begin to borrow heavilyfrom abroad, and over time, find themselves buried in deficits and under fire from anunsatisfied populous.

In addition to boosting government’s appetite for spending, resource windfalls alsobecome the primary source of government revenue, and thus alter the fiscal structureof an economy. This concept is more well-known as ‘rentier state theory’, firstadvanced by Hossein Mahdavy (1970). Because governments receive a steadystream of external rent, they are relieved of the need to collect domestic revenuethrough taxes (Luciani, 1987; Yates, 1996:15). Freed from the fiscal transparency andresponsibility that are normally demanded by taxpayers, these rentier statesconsequently become less accountable to their citizens (Yates, 1996:15).

Such an environment inevitably becomes a breeding ground for corruption7 andrent-seeking.8 Removed from any systems of transparency, public officials are free toextract favours and additional revenues by awarding import quotas, industriallicenses, or construction contracts (Gary & Karl, 2003:21). This behaviour leads to asystematic diversion of resources away from priority sectors such as health andeducation, and results in a general disregard for low-income groups in thepopulation. It is no surprise, therefore, that natural resource exporting countries areranked among the most corrupt in Transparency International’s World CorruptionIndex (Gary & Karl, 2003:22).

In sum, the ‘resource curse’ results from a combination of economic distortions andfiscal mismanagement. The accrual of resource revenues leads to an appreciation ofthe real exchange rate, and not only hurts the international competitiveness ofdomestic producers, but also raises prices in the local economy, effectivelyincreasing people’s cost of living. The only way to offset these losses is to redistributethe resource wealth among the people, either through direct payments, increases inwages, or investments in their living standards (health, education, etc.). If this

Table 1: Summary of ‘Resource Curse’ Mechanisms

Economic Behavioural

• Dutch Disease • Increased Borrowing and Debt Accumulation• Decreased Quality of Public Spending

• Revenue Volatility • Decreased Accountability to Citizens• Promotion of Corruption and Rent Seeking

Source: Author’s own synthesis of the academic literature.

happens, then people acquire the financial means to potentially rise out of poverty.However, when a poorly managed and corrupt government hoards resourcerevenues, and invests in impractical low-return projects instead of its people’s basicneeds, then the country is often worse off than it was before its resource boom.

The Chad-Cameroon Pipeline ProjectChad has many of the textbook vulnerabilities that make a country susceptible to the‘resource curse’: a primitive economy, political instability, fragile public institu-tions, and a history of financial mismanagement. Since winning its independencefrom France in 1960, Chad has been ravaged by decades of civil war betweennorthern Islamic groups and southern Christian factions (Uriz, 2001:215). Fre-quently changing governments have seized power either through military coups orrigged elections, and have fostered an intolerant and bureaucratic environment inwhich any type of change is difficult, let alone widescale economic reform andpolicy restructuring. Since 1990, President Déby has ruled under the facade of‘democracy’, even though civil society is powerless in preventing him from usingresource revenues ‘to promote the interests of his (northern) clan rather than those ofthe nation’ (Uriz, 2001:218). All these factors have earned Chad the rank of theseventh most corrupt nation in the world, according to Transparency International(2006).

Economically, the situation is even more dismal. According to United NationsHuman Development Index (HDI), Chad is the seventh poorest country in the world(UN, 2006), with a per capita income of $650 a year, and a population of 9.7 millionpeople, 80% of which live on less than $1 a day (IMF, 2007c; World Bank, 2006b).Only three out of every ten people have access to clean water, and electricity isavailable to 1% of the population (World Bank, 2006b). The infant mortality rate is124 out of every 1,000, and those who make it past childhood face a life expectancyof only 44 years, with one doctor for every 29,000 inhabitants (World Bank, 2006b;UN, 2006). Given the inefficiency and uncompetitiveness of Chad’s agriculturalexport sectors – cotton and cattle – oil does indeed represent the only real hope foreconomic development (IMF, 2004:11).

Against this backdrop, the CCPP, signed and approved on 6 June 2000, aims toextract an estimated 1 billion barrels of oil from the Bolobo, Komé, and Miandoum oilfields in the Doba region of southern Chad. Due to country’s landlocked nature, a1,070 km pipeline was built in order to transport the oil from the Doba fields, throughCameroon, and into an export facility at the Cameroonian coast of Kribi (Figure 1over). More than half of the CCPP’s $4.2 billion cost9 was shouldered by aconsortium of three oil companies – ExxonMobil, ChevronTexaco, and Petronas(Malaysia). The European Investment Bank and other credit agencies financed therest, with the World Bank providing only $293 million in loans.

At a maximum production capacity of 225,000 barrels per day (bpd), the pipelinepromises to bring $5 billion in oil revenues into Chad’s economy over a 25-yearperiod.10 Realising the transformative potential of such a sizeable sum, the WorldBank made a concerted effort to design a Revenue Management Program (RMP) thatwould combat each mechanism of the ‘resource curse’ and channel oil revenues tothe most impoverished sectors of the population.



The Structure of InterventionWith regards to the Dutch Disease, the most commonly advocated strategy forcombating real exchange rate appreciation is to store revenue earned from oilexports in offshore accounts, and bring it into the domestic economy gradually(Stiglitz, 2004). This way, local producers and consumers have more time to adapt toensuing changes in prices, output, and income.

Another recommendation is to save a portion of revenues that flow into the economyin order to minimise the other major economic mechanism – the vulnerability of oilexporters to fluctuating prices (Shaxson, 2005:319; Ross, 1999:306). In years whenoil prices are high and revenues exceed expectations, surpluses should be depositedinto a ‘stabilisation’ fund which can then be tapped in periods when low oil priceslead to revenues that are insufficient for predetermined budget allocations. Thisway, governments can smooth expenditures over time, and restrain their tempta-tions to borrow.

With these policy models in mind, the World Bank stipulated that all direct oilrevenues earned by Chad – both in the form of royalties and dividends – had to bestored in an offshore escrow account with Citibank in London. A key component ofthis account was a stabilisation fund, where any funds exceeding earmarked budgetexpenditures would be deposited.

With respect to the behavioural mechanisms of the ‘resource curse’, the Bankrealised that a budget template would be necessary in order to prevent Chad frominvesting oil revenues in projects with little promise for poverty alleviation. As aresult, the RMP called for 72% of Chad’s direct revenues to be allocated to five majorpriority sectors – education, health and social services, rural development,infrastructure, and environmental and water resource management. Another 13.5%of these revenues were allocated to Chad’s treasury for ‘discretionary spending’,while 4.5% were designated for the Doba oil-producing region. Finally, theremaining 10% went to a Future Generations Fund (FGF) in order to save for Chad’spost-oil era (Gary & Reisch, 2005:98-100; World Bank, 2000).

The RMP’s budget template, however, only set rules for the earmarking of oilrevenues, and did not establish guidelines for how specific projects would bechosen, implemented, and monitored. For this separate function, the Bank formed aspecial oversight committee – the Collège de Contrôle et de Surveillance desRessources Pétrolières (CCSRP) – comprised of Chadians from both government andcivil society. To support the CCSRP’s operations, and to foster a transparentenvironment for oil-financed projects, the World Bank also commissioned fourexternal monitoring bodies: the International Advisory Group (IAG), which makesfrequent field visits to Chad and identifies any weaknesses or abnormalities in theCCPP’s implementation (IAG, 2006), the Inspection Panel, which serves as thepublic forum in which citizens harmed by the CCPP can file protests, and theExternal Compliance Monitoring Group (ECMG) and Comité Technique Nationalde Suivi et de Contrôle (CTNSC), which monitor the oil consortium and hold it tostrict social and environmental standards.11

Finally, in order to ensure that Chad had the institutional capacity to implement theRMP’s policies, the Bank invested a total of $41.2 million in two capacity-buildingprojects – the Management of the Petroleum Economy Project (MPEP), and thePetroleum Sector Management Capacity Building Project (PSMCBP). Both of theseprojects were designed to offer technical assistance and training to Chadian workers

in order to facilitate the revenue managementprocess (World Bank, 2006a). The RMP’slegal and institutional elements demonstratehow closely the World Bank followed bestpractice in its structuring of the CCPP. Inlight of this seemingly bulletproof structure,the disappointing early results of the CCPPare rather counterintuitive.

Growth Without GainOn a purely macroeconomic level, the CCPPhas had a tremendous impact on Chad’sheadline indicators. Between 1990 (the yearPresident Déby came into power) and 2000(the year the CCPP was approved), Chad’sreal Gross Domestic Product (GDP) grew byan annual average of only 1.6%, with nega-tive growth rates in four of those years.12

During the pipeline’s construction between2001 and 2003, however, average GDP growthjumped to 10% as the oil consortium builtand renovated over 300 miles of roads andbridges and spent close to $500 million onlocal goods and services (Vesely, 2003:36).


After the pipeline became operational in October 2003, the surge in oil productionand exports prompted an astonishing 33.6% increase in GDP, giving Chad thehighest growth rate in the world by the end of 2004 (Table 2 over).13

In addition to enlarging Chad’s national income, booming oil exports have helped toswing the country’s current account14 from a deficit of -47.4% of GDP in 2003 to asurplus of 1.8% in 2006. Furthermore, the revenues accruing to the government fromthese oil exports have lowered Chad’s external debt from 50.2% of GDP in 2003, to20.5% in 2006.

With regards to the Dutch Disease, Chad has largely insulated its real exchange ratefrom the pressures of large revenue inflows. Domestic prices (displayed in Table 2 asthe inflation rate) have not shown any definitive increasing trend since 2003, andhave fluctuated mostly on the basis of changes in food prices, which are determinedprimarily by Chad’s harvest season as opposed to oil revenues (IMF, 2007b:1).15

Overall, Chad’s real exchange rate (relative to the US dollar and US prices)16

appreciated roughly 2% during the peak oil export period of 2004-2005 – not nearlyenough to seriously damage Chad’s export competitiveness (IMF, 2007a:10).

Chad has also shielded itself from the volatility of world oil prices by adhering to theBank’s prescribed principles of precautionary saving. All oil revenue inflowsexceeding the annual budget requirements have been deposited into a stabilisationfund (Gary & Reisch, 2005:72). In 2004 and 2005, these deposits amounted to $19.9million, approximately 4.9% of the $399 million in gross oil revenues earned duringthat period.17 Additionally, Chad has exhibited fiscal discipline and transparencyby complying with the expenditure provisions of the RMP. The government hasused oil revenues to repay its debt to project lenders, and to invest the prescribed 10%


in the Future Generations Fund and 4.5% in the Doba oil-producing region.18 Afterthese deductions, Chad designated the remaining $67.7 million in 2004, and $178million in 2005 for spending on the RMP’s priority sectors (World Bank, 2005).

In this sense, the policy structure of the CCPP has been enforced by the Chadiangovernment. The economic mechanisms of the ‘resource curse’ have been seeminglycounteracted with strong GDP growth, a stable real exchange rate, and saving in thestabilisation fund, while the behavioural mechanisms have been mitigated byresponsible public spending. Although this progress suggests a bright future for theproject, the realities on the ground tell a different story.

Four years after the first outflows of oil, the majority of Chadians continue to live inmud huts with a minimal source of income, and little access to water and sanitationservices. One of the World Bank’s hopes was that the CCPP would generate new jobsfor Chadians, and provide valuable training for the largely rural and unskilledpopulation. However, even at the height of pipeline construction in 2002, the CCPPemployed only 7,382 Chadians (EssoChad, 2005:56). Ever since the completion ofthe pipeline, this employment number has declined steadily, and at the end of 2006,only 6,436 Chadian nationals remained under contract with ExxonMobil (EssoChad,2006:55).

At the same time that oil operations have failed to induce economic improvements,they have also exacerbated a host of pre-existing social ills. In particular, the influxof foreign workers spurred by the CCPP has resulted in significant increases in crimeand prostitution (Pegg, 2005:15). Indeed, only three months after oil exports began,jobless immigrants flooded the Doba region, and robberies more than tripled, forcinglocal residents to start padlocking their huts (Wax, 2004). Furthermore, the increasein foreign workers boosted the potential for local women to profit off of prostitution.The consequent rise in commercial sex operations encouraged the spread of AIDSalong the pipeline, and placed additional strains on Chad’s primitive health caresystem. Since many Chadian project workers originated from outside Doba, there isnow a heightened concern that they will return home and spread the disease to theirlocal regions (Chesla, 2003).

As a whole, the early results of the CCPP present an interesting puzzle. A boomingChadian oil sector has brought high GDP growth and steady decreases in publicdebt, and yet these economic gains have not substantially improved livingconditions. Although it is tempting to attribute these failures to the behavioural

Table 2: Selected Economic & Financial Indicators for Chad

Indicator 2003 2004 2005 2006/E 2007/P

Real GDP 14.7 33.6 8.6 1.3 -1.2 (annual % change)

CPI Inflation -1.8 -5.4 7.9 7.9 4.0 (annual % change)

Current Account -47.4 -4.8 1.1 1.8 5.3 Balance (% of GDP)

External Debt 50.2 35.0 27.0 20.5 24.1 (% of GDP)

Source: International Monetary Fund (2007c); E = estimate, P = Projection.

mechanisms of ‘the resource curse’, the World Bank’s policy intervention has clearlyforced Chad to invest oil revenues in priority sectors, and to do so throughtransparent processes and institutions. Why, then, has the Bank’s interventionproven so powerless against ‘the resource curse’?

Tracing the Fault Lines

Capacity Building & Two-Speed DevelopmentThe first potential explanation stems from the observation that the CCPP was actuallytwo different projects being conducted simultaneously. One project was purelyphysical, and involved the construction of the pipeline, as well as the infrastructureneeded to maintain its functionality: roads, supply depots, and repair facilities. Thesecond project was institutional, and focused on building Chad’s oil revenuemanagement capacity through improved regulatory frameworks, administrativetraining programmes, and technical and legal supervisory bodies. While these twoprojects seem complementary in nature, when the World Bank was first conceptualiz-ing their implementation, it stressed the need for them to occur sequentially, and for‘capacity to be in place prior to the beginning of the (CCPP’s) major infrastructureworks and long before the first projected oil’ (Gary & Reisch, 2005:81).

In reality, however, pipeline construction began a mere four months after projectapproval, with oil flowing to international markets a full year ahead of schedule.


CAMEROON

NIGERIA

CHAD

CENTRAL AFRICAN REPUBLIC

MAINTENANCE AREA #3

MAINTENANCE AREA #2

MAINTENANCE AREA #4

Gulf ofGuinea

KribiBipindi

LolodorfNgoumou

YAOUNDƒ

Nanga EbokoBelabo

Batchenga

Ngaoundal Meiganga

Touboro

Baibokoum

Kom•

Doba OIL FIELD DEVELOPMENT AREA(INCLUDES PUMP STATION #1)

PUMP STATION #3)

PRESSURE REDUCTION STATION

MARINE TERMINAL

Douala

Ngaound•r•

Dompla

PUMP STATION #2Location Map

N

S

EW

Deng Deng

MAINTENANCE AREA #1

Marine terminal(FSO)

Railroad

Major roads(In study area)

Oil field development area

Pipeline

International boundaries

Maintenance area boundaries

100 2000

Kilometers

Figure 2: Chad-Cameroon Pipeline


The unexpected acceleration of the CCPP’s physical components has led to what theBank’s primary external monitoring group, the IAG, has called the ‘two-speednature’ of the CCPP (IAG, 2001:3).

This sequencing failure has placed negative pressures on Chad’s institutions in twomajor ways. First, key organisations such as the CCSRP have been forced to assumetheir roles with only limited functional capacity. In May of 2004, Therese Mekombe,vice president of the CCRSP, publicly complained about how her oversightcommittee was ‘understaffed, underfunded, and deprived of information by theChadian government and the oil consortium’ (Doyle, 2004). Indeed, up until late2003, the CCSRP didn’t even have an office facility, let alone the computer andinternet access needed to monitor the Citibank escrow account once oil startedflowing (Gary & Reisch, 2005:55). Despite such technical deficiencies, the CCSRPwas placed in the position of carrying the full weight of a booming oil economy inJuly 2004.

Second, the failure of new institutions such as the CCSRP to develop on time hasplaced an added strain on Chad’s existing institutions which have been pushedbeyond their area of comfort and expertise, and burdened with managementoperations that were not present in Chad’s pre-oil economy. In 2002, for example,Dinanko Ngomibe, the budget director in Chad’s Ministry of Finance, voiced hiscomplaints that ‘in terms of human capacity, we’re not ready [to handle the workload]’. ‘Less than 25% of [my] colleagues in the civil service know how to usecomputers, even when the electricity works’ (Delescluse, 2004:47). Without the helpof a fully functioning CCSRP, the Ministry has been virtually powerless with large-scale budget allocations and electronic revenue transactions.

To the extent that the World Bank overwhelmed Chad with complex regulatoryframeworks and management processes without first strengthening institutionalcapacity, the CCPP’s poor results can be partially attributed to a failure ofsequencing. While this critique implicates the World Bank’s hubris and poormanagement skills, it also highlights the fact that Chad’s civil society andinstitutions were severely weak and inexperienced to begin with. The notion thatChad had built-in impediments to a successful economic agenda serves as the basisfor the next potential cause of the CCPP’s shortcomings.

State Characteristics: Economic Ideology & Social CohesionAlthough so far, Chad has demonstrated a poor ability to transform its oil wealthinto poverty reduction, Paul Stevens (2003a) has demonstrated that other naturalresource exporters such as Botswana, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Chile have achieveddrastically greater success. Stevens argues that these four nations were ‘develop-mental states’ which avoided turning into ‘predatory states’ (Stevens, 2003a:18;Evans, 1995). The developmental state is one in which the ruling elite derive theirlegitimacy not from a de facto claim to power, but from a demonstrated ability todeliver economic growth (Stevens, 2003a:19). The developmental state thus imposeson itself institutions which encourage transparent policy making and restrain theabuse of power (Stevens, 2003a:19). In contrast, the predatory state is one in whichthe ruling elite exploit the national economy for the sake of their own personalenrichment (Stevens, 2003b:17).

Stevens cites Botswana as a developmental state that has exhibited model fiscaldiscipline in managing its diamond revenues over the past 40 years. By curbing its

expenditures through a revenue stabilisation fund, and creating an anti-corruptiondirectorate, Botswana has ‘deliberately constrain(ed) its freedom in order to limittemptations arising from (large inflows of) revenue’ (Stevens, 2003a:10; Sarraf &Jiwanji, 2001:10-11). Chile and Indonesia have demonstrated similar fiscal restraintin managing their resources, and have also promoted trade liberalisation with theintent of diversifying their economies and encouraging competitiveness amongdomestic producers (Stevens, 2003a:18).

On the surface, the policies adopted by these ‘success story’ nations are similar tothose outlined in Chad’s revenue management programme – namely the stabilisationfund and the corruption-monitoring CCSRP. However, the crucial difference is thatthese policies were imposed and administered from within, and not by an externalentity such as the World Bank. Moreover, these four nations seemed to have ‘strongelements of frugality built into their psyche’, something which was noticeablyabsent in Chad’s leadership (Stevens, 2003a:18). In consultations with the Chadiangovernment in 2004, for example, the IMF reported that officials showed extremereluctance in saving revenues as part of a stabilisation mechanism (IMF, 2004:14).

Although Chad’s ineffectiveness in administering economy policy was partly due tothis lack of discipline, it also reflected a lack of cohesion within Chad. Botswanabenefited from a ‘small and largely homogenous’ population, which promoted unityin the country’s developmental orientation, especially among government officials(Stevens, 2003a:11). This is clearly not the case in Chad, where decades of civil warhave left a legacy of North-South tensions and ethnically-charged rebel movements.

Chad’s ongoing civil conflicts are also in contrast to Malaysia, which governedunder a ‘plural society model’, and made a conscious effort to unite different ethnicgroups and empower indigenous peoples such as the Bumiputera (Shamsul,1997:243; Stevens, 2003a:16). Because this group constituted close to 55% of thepopulation, investments in their welfare stimulated growth and developmentthroughout the economy, especially in the rural sector (Abidin, 2004; Stevens2003a:16).

In Chad, this kind of mentality has not been present, and apart from a provisioncalling for the representatives in the CCSRP to be from both Muslim and Christiancommunities, ethnic and religious diversity was not seriously taken into account inthe CCPP’s design (Delescluse, 2004:48). Since Chad’s oil reserves are concentratedin the country’s southern Christian region, and Déby’s government is composedprimarily of northern Muslims, this oversight was an open invitation to conflict andnepotism. Indeed, once Chad received the World Bank’s first set of loans for capacitybuilding, the government distributed the funds in such a way that the majority ofpeople receiving technical assistance and training belonged to Déby’s northernethnic group (Delescluse, 2004:48).

On the whole, going into the CCPP, Chad was maladapted to a natural resource-driven economy, and not only incapable of responsibly managing large revenueinflows, but also somewhat unwilling. Consequently, the World Bank was placed inthe difficult position of trying to constrain ‘predation’ by persuading Chad’s rulingelite into a ‘developmental’ mindset (Stevens, 2003a:19). This process required alarge degree of interference in Chad’s sovereignty, and the tensions resulting fromthis intervention are perhaps the most significant factor contributing to the CCPP’searly failures.



Clashing Sovereignties & Subversive InteractionsAs altruistic as the World Bank’s intervention in Chad appears, it has imposednumerous demands on Chad’s government while offering few concessions. It is nosurprise then that the CCPP’s elaborate regulations and supervision have provokedresentments among Chadian officials, and heightened their incentives to exploitproject loopholes and attempt to regain leverage in the revenue managementprocess. There are several revealing examples of Chad’s government being guidedby these incentives. In December 2000, only six months after the CCPP had beenofficially approved, President Déby used $4.5 million of a $25 million signing bonusfrom the oil consortium in order to purchase weapons. Bonuses and indirectrevenues are not covered by the CCPP’s revenue management framework, and Débyexploited this loophole in an attempt to assert his position on Chad’s nationalpriorities. ‘Without security there can be no development programs’, Déby stated atthe time, referring to the violent unrest and pressures he faced from rebel groups inthe north and south of the country (Runyan, 2001). Although he eventually agreed torepay the $4.5 million from the national budget, his actions cast early doubts over thegoodwill of the Chadian government. These doubts were reignited in January 2006,when he amended the CCPP’s revenue management law (Law 001) to eliminate theFuture Generations Fund and allow for more discretionary government spendingand weapons purchases. The World Bank was outraged at this breach of the CCPP’spoverty-reducing mission, and suspended the project indefinitely (cutting offChad’s access to oil revenues in the process) until finally reaching a compromise inJuly 2006.

Déby’s resistance against the World Bank’s intervention has also extended into theinstitutional realm, where he has attempted to control the composition of the CCSRP.In February 2004, he appointed his brother-in-law Idriss Ahmet Idriss to the post ofDirector of Chad’s Central Bank,19 automatically giving him a spot on the CCSRP.Given the fact that in Chad, the separation of power between the executive, judiciary,and legislative branches is not highly pronounced, the four other CCSRP membersfrom these branches of government can also be viewed as being uncomfortably closeto Déby (Massey & May, 2005:259).

The oil consortium and its royalty contracts with Chad were yet another factorconstraining Deby’s influence over oil policy. Chad’s original 1988 contract with theoil consortium entitled the government to only 12.5% of royalties. In 2004, however,international prices for Brent20 crude oil were soaring above $50 per barrel, whileChadian crude, due to its greater impurities and higher transportation costs, wasselling at a discounted rate of only $20 per barrel. Frustrated by his government’sultimate share of revenues, Déby lashed out at the oil companies, accusing theconsortium of ‘swindling, opacity, and fraud’, and of intending to ‘bleed theChadian economy dry’ (Massey & May, 2005:272). More recently, in August 2006,Déby ordered two of the consortium’s members – Chevron and Petronas – to ceaseoperations in Chad and leave the country, claiming that they failed to pay $450million in overdue taxes (Walters & Faucon, 2006).

The fact that Déby has felt the need to rebel against his foreign financiers, and toundermine the cooperation that is essential to a development project of this nature,suggests that the CCPP has embodied a fundamental failure of external intervention.Nearly seven years into the project and four years since the first batch of oil exports,Chad, the World Bank, and the oil consortium are still trying to negotiate the rulesand mechanisms for calculating and distributing oil revenues. Given this fragile

regulatory framework, it is not surprising that the institutions designed to assistwith the CCPP’s implementation have not been able to operate effectively.

External Intervention: The Common DenominatorAt this point, it should become clear that none of the three causal factors examinedblame the substance of the CCPP’s policies for Chad’s poor development results.Instead, the overarching culprit seems to be the World Bank’s attempt to implementthese policies externally, and to create political will and institutional capacity in acountry mired by nepotism, civil conflict, and corruption. Each casual factor istherefore largely a symptom of the Bank’s external intervention.

The two-speed nature of the CCPP resulted from the World Bank’s insistence that oilexports commence even when critical institutions such as the CCSRP were not yetfully operational. Because the RMP was structured and imposed externally, Chadfelt that it could allow the World Bank to compensate for any domestic institutionaldeficiencies once revenue inflows began. This over-reliance on the World Bankwould likely not have occurred had Chad been allowed ownership of the revenuemanagement process from the beginning.

In terms of socio-economic characteristics, Chad had neither the developmentalmindset to enforce economic policy in a booming oil sector, nor the social unity andcounterbalancing centres of authority to prevent Déby from hoarding oil revenues orfavouring certain social groups. Through external intervention, the World Bankhoped to serve as both a behavioural modifier and a regulator of corruption.However, it is painfully clear that World Bank economists are not a viable substituteto domestic bureaucrats – they are, after all, only policy advisors and not policyimplementers.

Finally, the World Bank’s desire to see the RMP successfully implemented led to aninsistence that Chad sacrifice its oil sovereignty. By placing Chad’s royalties in anoffshore bank account and limiting their use to Bank-specified priority sectors, theWorld Bank fostered an atmosphere of mistrust and begrudging cooperation. Thedynamics of this relationship made Déby more preoccupied with regaining leverageover the project than with pursuing compromise and ensuring that Chad’s oilwealth was successfully transferred to the poor. It is doubtful that his attempts toundermine the RMP would have occurred with such frequency had the Bankallowed the Chadian government more input into the revenue managementprogramme.

Changing Interdependence & the Future of the Chad-CameroonPipeline ProjectIn many ways, the tensions created by the World Bank’s control of Chad’s economicpolicies have transformed the CCPP from a joint development initiative into afundamentally counterproductive struggle for authority. Not only does thisatmosphere continue to impede the strengthening of local institutions, but it alsoraises serious doubts as to whether Chad and the World Bank can constructivelyshare long-term control of the CCPP.

Now that Chad’s oil infrastructure is in place, and the pipeline is fully operational,the dependence dynamic between Chad and the World Bank has changedsignificantly. With oil revenues rapidly flowing into Chad, the World Bank’s



leverage as a financial donor is slowly waning. As Chad edges closer to paying offits debt, it can afford to move away from compliance with the World Bank’s policiesand to install its own regulatory institutions and policies (Gary & Reisch, 2005:86).

In this context, the World Bank is in extreme danger of dropping out as an actor inthe CCPP. If the 2004 dispute over oil prices between Chad and the oil consortium isany indication, Chad is gaining negotiating power on the basis of its rising oilincome, and is becoming more confident in its ability to confront the oil companiesand bargain for a higher share of royalties (Eriksson & Hagströmer, 2005:59). Déby’sgovernment has already demonstrated its intent to challenge the oil consortium byestablishing a new state oil company – the Société Tchadienne des Hydrocarbures –and by threatening to hand Chevron and Petronas’s shares to this company (AfricaConfidential, 2006:4). These aggressive inclinations foreshadow the emergence of atwo-actor scenario in which the long-term details of the CCPP are settled solelybetween Chad and the oil consortium.

The threat of this two-actor scenario makes the World Bank’s recent suspension offunds to Chad (in January 2006) an even more crucial crossroads. The standoff canbe viewed as a desperate attempt by the Bank to maintain a stake in the CCPPbecause, as Eriksson and Hagströmer (2005:61) argue, the public will most likelyblame the Bank, and not the oil companies, if the project were to fail. The Bank’sdesperation is reflected in the memorandum signed with Chad in July 2006 to endthe CCPP’s suspension. The resolution is a seeming concession on the part of theBank since the only major difference from the original project agreement is thatpreviously, Chad had to pledge 72% of all direct oil revenues to poverty-reducingsectors, while now, it must allocate 70% of both direct and indirect revenues.Granted, this revision is not trivial, since in 2007, indirect revenues will amount toan estimated $1.3 billion (Africa Confidential, 2006). However, the Bank has givenChad a full year to develop a new budgetary framework before the new spendingregulations are signed into law. In the meantime, direct revenues continue toaccumulate, and once indirect revenues start flowing, there is no guarantee thatDéby will not once again renege on his promises.

Ultimately, the ongoing renegotiation of the CCPP’s regulatory structure has alsoforced the oil consortium to decide whether to honour its royalty contract with Chad,or support the World Bank’s accusations that Chad’s behaviour compromises theCCPP’s poverty-reducing nature. So far, the oil consortium seems to have wilted toChadian pressures. After Déby accused Chevron and Petronas of tax evasion, bothcompanies agreed to pay undisclosed compensation sums in order to ensure theircontinued presence in Chad’s oil fields (Africa Confidential, 2006:4). Therefore, itappears that the CCPP’s central goal of improving Chadian living standards willcontinue to remain obscured – not only by political and legal disputes between Chadand the World Bank, but also by the profit-seeking behaviour of the oil companies.

ConclusionDespite all the international optimism that the CCPP initially evoked, it is now clearthat Chad’s dream of oil wealth and poverty alleviation, and the World Bank’s hopeof defeating the ‘resource curse’, will have to be put on hold. Granted, after only fouryears of oil flows, it is ultimately too early to deem the project a complete failure.Nevertheless, it is particularly distressing that the majority of conflicts haveconcerned the principles which are most crucial to the CCPP’s long-termeffectiveness – cooperation and synergies between the Chad and the World Bank,

enforcement of priority sector budget spending, impartiality of the CCSRP, andtransparent contracts with oil companies. Without a substantial strengthening ofthese fundamental issues, the overarching goal of economic growth and povertyreduction will be increasingly difficult to achieve.

With these shortcomings in mind, it seems logical to revisit one of the majorquestions posed at the beginning of this article: can policy intervention prevent the‘resource curse’? Given the article’s central argument, the tentative answer is ‘yes’,but only in the presence of three conditions: 1) the intervention comes from within theresource exporting country; 2) the institutions administering economic policy havethe prerequisite capacity to manage large-scale financial flows; 3) all political actorsdemonstrate a sustained commitment to transparency and accountability.

These conditions are highly idealised, and indeed, that is why they run contrary tosome of the more realist arguments made by other scholars. Stephen Krasner(2004:12), for example, reasons that an appropriate remedy for the CCPP is for theWorld Bank to intrude even more on Chad’s oil sovereignty, and to personallyappoint the members of the CCSRP (Pegg, 2005:20). However, Krasner’s rationaleseems rather tenuous because the World Bank’s intrusion and conditionalities havethemselves been a major driving force of the CCPP’s conflicts and failures. Evenbefore oil flows from Chad began, development experts such as Ahmedou OuldAbdallah, the United Nations Special Representative for West Africa, contendedthat overloading poor countries with ‘too many regulations and conditionalities’ ...kill(s) the potential for local institutional growth and ‘develop(s) conditions forcorrupt practices’ (US House of Representatives, 2002).

A more extreme revision to the CCPP is proposed by Sala-i-Martin and Subramanian(2003:18), who argue for the creation of a ‘virtual’ non-oil economy where the WorldBank transfers oil rents directly to citizens, and prevents revenues from reaching thehands of corrupt officials (Pegg, 2005:24); this approach is also fairly unreasonable.If Chad’s government lacks the institutional capacity to properly manage oilrevenues (as the early experiences of the CCPP demonstrate), then it seems unlikelythat an uneducated population would be able to handle such large sums of money.Indeed, during the construction phase of the CCPP, rural farmers who had their landdamaged by the pipeline and were compensated by the oil consortium, tended tospend their rewards on alcohol, prostitutes, and overnight stays in N’Djamena’shotels (Eriksson & Hagströmer, 2005:51).

The shortcomings of Krasner’s and Sala-i-Martin and Subramanian’s alternativesunderline the practical obstacles to using external intervention as an ‘anti-resourcecurse’ strategy. Corruption and weak institutional capacity can only be addressedby governments that take ownership of their policies, and understand not only theirown technical limitations, but also the social landscape within which they operate.The successes of Malaysia, Botswana, Indonesia, and Chile are a strong testament tothis assertion.

In the end, these conclusions offer important insights into the role that externalactors can realistically play in promoting the development of resource-abundantnations. While Scott Pegg (2005) claims that the CCPP was a ‘one-off’ event thatcame about as a result of unique circumstances, the reality is that new resourcebooms are likely to occur in many developing countries in the near future. In light ofthe increasing scarcity of oil, as well as the growing global demand for energy,industrialised nations have embarked on searches for new sources of oil. With



hydrocarbon riches constantly being discovered in Africa, the continent has becomethe centre of this new ‘energy scramble’. The US, in particular, has repeatedlyexpressed an intent to diversify its oil supplies away from the Middle East, and hasincreased its purchases of African oil from 13% of its total oil imports in 2002 tonearly 20% at the end of 2006 (Volman, 2003; Gary & Reisch, 2005:5).22

The global tilt towards African oil means that the continent will soon be swarmed byoil companies from India and China, many of whom tend to invest without anyapparent concern for the environment or for corruption and human rights.21 Givenrecent increases in world oil prices, these companies will expect larger returns ontheir investments, and will be more willing to set up extraction facilities in Africa’spoor and politically unstable countries without seeking the risk mitigation servicesof international financial institutions (IFI’s) such as the World Bank (Pegg, 2005:22).

In this sense, it becomes even more important for new natural resource exporters tohandle resource revenues on their own terms, and to actively implement soundeconomic and fiscal policies. Although these countries may suffer from technicaland institutional weaknesses similar to Chad’s, they are not powerless in managingnatural resource economies.

Indeed, despite all its troubles and setbacks, Chad has shown some promising signsof progress. A recent IAG report observes that the different sectors of governmenthave begun to align their supervisory and monitoring operations, and that ‘priorityministries (now) have a better understanding of budget execution procedures’ (IAG,2005:iii). The CCSRP, in particular, has made significant strides in its ability todistribute oil revenues and ensure their proper use. In the Doba oil-producingregion, a new modern school has recently been constructed, along with two watertowers that will expand the region’s drinking water supply (World Bank, 2007).Institutional capacity building, it seems, is a slow and delicate process that cannotbe forcefully accelerated by external actors. Countries must instead be allowed tocalibrate their institutions to a resource-driven economy through internal reform.

For Chad, this adaptation may have already been irreversibly damaged by the WorldBank’s external pressures. However, as this article has argued, a successfulprevention of the ‘resource curse’ for future natural resource exporters is not out ofreach. Theoretical knowledge and policy prescriptions are available in the publicrealm from a variety of IFI’s, academic economists, and NGO’s. Countries simplyhave to be willing to use this information without having it forced upon them byexternal actors. In the end, World Bank failure to understand this concept is the mainreason why the Chad-Cameroon Pipeline Project remains a hopeful model asopposed to a successful reality.

Nikola Kojucharov, Board of Governors of the US Federal Reserve System;[email protected]

Endnotes

1. The term ‘resource curse’ was first used in academic literature by Richard Auty (1993). TerryLynn Karl (1997) has also referred to the same phenomenon as the ‘paradox of plenty’.

2. The World Bank Group lending agencies that are relevant to the CCPP are the International Bankof Reconstruction and Development (IBRD), which lends primarily to middle-income countries atcommercial interest rates, the International Development Association (IDA), which provides near

interest-free loans to very low income countries, and the International Finance Corporation (IFC),which lends to the private sector.

3. The characterisation of the World Bank’s involvement in the Chad-Cameroon Pipeline Project as‘policy intervention’ is advanced by Pegg (2005).

4. The term ‘Dutch Disease’ was originally coined to explain the negative effects of North Sea oilrevenues on industrial production in the Netherlands during the 1970s.

5. For a formal economic treatment of the ‘Dutch Disease’ using the tradable/non-tradable goodsmodel; see Alan Gelb et al. (1988) and Corden & Neary (1982).

6. A first-class explanation of governance comes from Daniel Kaufmann (2005), who defines theterm as ‘the traditions and institutions by which authority in a country is exercised for the commongood. This includes the process by which those in authority are selected, monitored, and replaced(the political dimension); the government’s capacity to effectively manage its resources andimplement sound policies (the economic dimension); and the respect of citizens and the state for thecountry’s institutions (the institutional respect dimension).’

7. Corruption is broadly defined as the abuse of public office for personal gain.

8. Rent-seeking refers to the pursuit of government policies or programs that transfer income to oneperson or group at the expense of others. The term was introduced by Anne Krueger (1974).

9. Although the project cost was originally estimated at $3.7 billion, ExxonMobil revised this figureto $4.2 billion in October 2004; refer to Gary and Reisch (2005:6).

10. The original estimate was $2 billion, but high oil prices in the past few years have made it clearthat this figure will be closer to $5 billion; see Gary and Reisch (2005:35).

11. An analysis of the numerous enviornmental issues pertaining to the CCPP is beyond the scopeof this article. For a sample documentation of these various risks and impacts, consult Horta,Nguiffo & Djiroibe (1999).

12. Author’s calculations based on data from the World Bank’s World Development Indicators2006.

13. This growth rate inevitably declined in 2005 and 2006 as oil production volumes stabilised, and,according to IMF (2007c) projections, will likely moderate further in the future as oil productionreaches capacity and export growth tapers off.

14. The current account is the sum of a country’s trade balance (the difference between exports andimports) and its net investment income (the difference between domestic holdings of foreign assetsand foreign holdings of domestic assets).

15. Chad’s inflation rate is highly sensitive to food prices, and the deflation in 2003-04 appears tohave been a result of a plentiful harvest and falling food prices. Similarly, a drought in late 2004raised food prices and inflation in 2005, while a spike in meat prices was largely responsible for thehigh inflation in 2006 (IMF, 2007b:1)

16. Chad’s local currency, the CFA franc, is pegged to the euro. The euro appreciated considerablyrelative to the US dollar between 2004 and 2005, meaning that the CFA franc, by virtue of beingpegged to the euro, also appreciated relative to the dollar. Since movements in Chad’s domesticprices did not show any consistent trend during that time period, the real exchange rate appreciationof the CFA franc relative to the US dollar seems to have been driven primarily by the move in thenominal CFA franc/dollar exchange rate.

17. Figures are derived from the data in Gary and Reisch (2005:71-76). The author assumesresponsibility for any errors in calculation.

18. As of 15 January 2006, the Future Generations Fund account had a balance of $36.2 million.

19. Chad’s central bank is the Bank of Central African States, which also conducts the monetarypolicy of Cameroon, Central African Republic, Equatorial Guinea, Congo, and Gabon.

20. Brent is a North sea crude blend which is used to set a benchmark price in the world oil market.



21. Author’s interview with Sandra Barnes, Professor of Anthropology and Director of the AfricanStudies Program at the University of Pennsylvania, 7 February 2006. See also Pegg (2005:22).

22. Author’s calculations based on data from the US Department of Energy, Energy Informa-tionAdministration.

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Review of African Political Economy No.113:497-520© ROAPE Publications Ltd., 2007

Debates

Emerging Spaces forDebating Africa & theGlobal South

Usman A. Tar & Shiraz Durrani

As reported in recent issues of thisjournal (ROAPE 110 and 111), there hasbeen phenomenal blossoming of schol-arly and policy focus on Africa and othermarginalised regions of the world. Inintellectual circles, this has ‘spread be-yond the normal confines of “Africanist“publications with a substantial amountof comment and analysis reaching moregeneralist readership’ (Brown, 2006:111).In this article, we note that while someevents – in particular, those that seek toportray the West as ‘benevolent’ – aregrandiosely publicised (e.g. G8 Summits,theLive8 ‘Make Poverty History’ concertand so on), others are relatively lesspublicised – for instance, anti-globali-sation events such the World SocialForum – understandably because theyseek to challenge predominant modes ofthinking and ideology. Our focus is onthe latter which we note is conqueringgreater public and intellectual imagina-tions. We argue that these novel spacesare now drawing attention to fundamen-tal issues that are less recognised, indeedavoided, in mainstream spaces.

On 25 April 2007, the Department ofApplied Social Sciences (DASS) at theLondon Metropolitan University hosteda Workshop on the theme Trade Unions,Democracy and Working Class Struggles inAfrica. The event was attended by morethan 45 people both from within the

University as well as external academicand community groups. Three speakersdelivered unusual but provocative pa-pers.1 A Press Statement released shortlyafter the event states its background andraison d’etre:

The attention of the world is increasinglydrawn to Africa with its vast resourcesand the continent’s inability to match thegrowth in other regions such as South andEast Asia. The 1960s saw independencefrom colonialism in many African coun-tries with many hopes of a new era ofgrowth and development. There was anexpectation that working class and tradeunion movements would join hands withpolitical movements and strengthen de-mocracy and development. An in-depthlook at the forces that the working classrepresent was the theme of the latest in theincreasingly popular series of debates andlectures organised by the Department ofApplied Social Sciences of London Metro-politan University (DASS, 2007).

This event is part of a wider programmedesigned by DASS to provide a much-needed space for debating matters ofclass struggles, inequality and exploita-tion – not only in Africa, but throughoutthe world. This is a welcome develop-ment in a world dominated by neo-liberalism where ‘left thinking’ has beenmarginalised. In this article, we arguethat the DASS event and similar forumsorganised throughout the world are anovel attempt in intellectual circles tofocus on how social forces in the globalSouth are coming to terms with thechallenges of neo-liberal globalisation,democratisation and development. How-ever, emerging debates should not be



divorced from previous historical, intel-lectual projects, particularly those thatflourished during the Cold War.

Neo-liberalism, Globalisation,ICT & the Rise of Critical Voices

It is misleading to claim that scholarlyinterest in Africa is a new phenomenon;scholars and policy makers have alwaysdebated on almost every issue rangingfrom state-building to primitive accumu-lation. Consider, for instance, the stock-piles of ideas generated during Cold War– there is more than enough to read!However, given the changing mutationsof ideas and political ideologies thatframe them (for instance from ‘liberalismvs. communism’ or ‘bipolarity’ before1989 to ‘neo-liberalism’, ‘unipolarity’and ‘globalisation’ thereafter), it is im-possible for scholars and politicians toremain captive to old ideas. Neverthe-less, it is important to acknowledge theroots (including eccentric flavours) ofcurrent ideas and movement in previousones. For instance, much earlier, schol-ars engaged with trade union move-ments in Africa (the theme of the DASSevent) , in rigorous and productive ways.Key examples include D. I. Davies (1966)on African Trade Unions and Robin Cohenand Richard Sandbrook (1975) on TheDevelopment of an African Working Class:Studies in Class Formation and Action. Thislatter book contained thirteen chaptersgrouped into three parts: a) initialstirrings of working class conscious-ness, b) contemporary workers’ organi-sations and c) contemporary action(resistance).3 The key point that emergesfrom these two examples is that there is acommon thread that runs across previ-ous and current attempts in debatingAfrica.

The DASS event earlier alluded to cannotbe divorced from the current radicalforums, particularly amongst Southernscholars and activists seeking toproactively engage, even confront anddeconstruct the painful challenges posed

by globalisation and neoimperialism onlives and livelihoods of subaltern socialforces and groups in developing coun-tries. This is indeed an incrementalstride aimed at empowering local peo-ples – those at the receiving end of elite-centred policies nurtured at all centres ofglobal capitalist power: metropolitan(London, Washington, Seattle, Paris,New York, Gleneagles) and/or periph-eral (Johannesburg, Abuja, Delhi, Rio deJaneiro) – and reinforcing their visionsand struggles. There is a need tocontextualise the current intellectual andpolicy terrains, and the emergence ofradical voices seeking to ‘talk truth topower’, share experiences and forge alli-ances on issues of exploitation, inequal-ity, class struggles.

The marginalisation of critical thoughtin the aftermath of Washington Consensus– a world riven with neo-liberal dogmaand policies with all their repressivetendencies – has no doubt thwarted anygenuine alternatives to these very same‘ideas’ – particularly those which areseen to be apologetic of ‘left’ ideologyand, therefore, treacherous to the inter-nationalisation of liberal idealism. AsHarrsion (2005:1303) notes:

Neo-liberalism has fully settled into ourlexicon of concepts for making sense ofAfrica’s (and global Southern) develop-ment over the past 20 years … neo-liberalism emerged as a synonym for themainly externally directed attempt toremove the state from the economy.

In achieving these ends, the centres ofglobal capital (Western governments;bilateral and multilateral donor agenciesetc.), have sought to deploy, both bydesign and default, a number of repres-sive tools, including the marginalisationof the so-called ‘anti-establishment’ forces(such as labour movements) regardlessof their contribution to the ideals of‘democracy’ (however defined), and thecontingent empowerment of ‘state’ or ‘civilsociety’ (a strategy of convenience, de-

fined by how far either the state or civilsociety promote the expansion of marketcapitalism). This has created a ‘contra-diction between the so-called “demo-cratic claims“ of the neo-liberal agendaand the autocratic approach adopted bypowerful countries and institutions be-hind it’ (Tar, 2006:76). The contradic-tions of neo-liberalism and, by extension,mainstream capitalism are embedded inits logic:

Neo-liberalism aspires, in its ideology andpractice, to intensify the abstractionsinherent in capitalism itself: to separatelabour power from its human context, toreplace society with the market, to build auniverse out of aggregated transactions(Comaroff & Comaroff, 2000:305).

The DASS lecture series aspire to con-front the endangerment of alternativeideas inherent in the logic of neo-liberalcapitalism. In particular, it aims to givevoice to those silenced by this logicthrough new communication technolo-gies:

to highlight the contribution of leaders,movements and ideas that have shaped theworld. Many of these have been forgotten,marginalised or deliberately hidden frompublic view. People everywhere are in-creasingly using new possibilities createdby forces of Information and Communica-tions Technologies to liberate their mindsand using alternative ideas to shape a newworld where people are at peace witheach other. Information about emergingideas and social movements around theworld can now be shared instantaneously(DASS, 2007, our emphasis).

In a rapidly changing world, the DASSdebates and lectures aim to create a placeto think, debate and develop ideas so asto raise awareness about issues andideas that are changing the face of theworld today:

we believe that it is only when ourhorizons are broadened that we can hope

to meet the challenges we all face today – atsocial, environmental and political levels.It is only when scientific ideas shape ourthinking that we can create a world atpeace with itself (DASS, Ibid.).

DASS’s critical but innovative stance(see also Durrani, 2007:187-200) is notan isolated event. For instance, in 2001(5-6 October) the Department of LatinAmerican and Caribbean Studies (LACS)and the Centre for Latino, Latin Ameri-can and Caribbean Studies (CELAC) atthe State University of New York, Albanyorganised a similar conference on Work-ers and Democratisation in Americas: Shift-ing Productive Structures, Social Identitiesand Labour Strategies. The organisers ofthis conference argue that:

Globalisation has brought about increas-ing levels of social vulnerability for themajority of Latin American workers. Yet,at the same time – through firm relocations,internationalised production and distri-bution networks, increased flows of capi-tal, commodities and labour, internationaltrade/investment agreements, and cross-border solidarity campaigns, globalisationis also increasing the interconnectednessof North, Central, South, and Caribbeansocieties and social actors.4

The geographic emphasis of DASS andothers cover the three most marginalisedand deprived regions of the world –Africa, Asia and Latin America – whichare, nevertheless, striving to play anincreasingly important part in the 21stcentury – both materially as well as interms of science, arts, culture, ideas andethics. They are also coming to termswith massive technological challengesinvented mainly in Europe and NorthAmerica. The point is, that with increas-ing internal and external contradictionsfacing these societies, a new creativitycan be seen everywhere. New ideas arebeing forged in fierce debates at universi-ties, factories, workplaces, on the airwaves, in the media and on the streets.

Debates: Emerging Spaces for Debating Africa & the Global South 499


Another point is that, in spite of concernsabout ‘digital divides’ (see e.g. Ya’u,2004; Thomson, 2004), globalisation andinformation technology have paradoxi-cally made it possible to forge ties be-yond traditional boundaries, and createforums for discussing issues of publicconcern whether or not they are palat-able to the powers that be. Throughoutthe world, a variety of forums havemushroomed to provide space for criticaldiscussion and to protest against ex-ploitative policies. A few examples areworth mentioning here:

1) Transnational Networks such as TheWorld Social Forum formed by civil soci-ety groups in the global South to protestthe ills of neo-liberal globalisation, toshare experiences and narratives, andforge collaborative networks to confronta common enemy.

2) The World Movement for Democ-racy, formed in Durban, South Africa toreflect on democracy and inclusion, shareexpertise and experience in democracypromotion and build strategies on soli-darity (see Adbul-Raheem, 2006 & Bujra,2006 for first-hand reflections on recentmeetings of the World Social Forum) .

3) Virtual Networks promoted throughinstantaneous facility for communica-tion and political action provided by theinternet. A key example is the PambazukaNews: ‘the authoritative pan-African elec-tronic weekly newsletter and platformfor social justice in Africa’ is creating anew space in two ways: first is its wideperspective which encompasses thewhole of Africa; second, it takes anunashamedly Pan-African perspective‘for progressive social change in Africa’.For the first time a new voice has emergedchampioning the rights of working peo-ple in Africa. It carries insight into issuesthat the traditional Western-based me-dia do not deal with; for example, thegreed for oil that is fuelling the ‘wars’ inSomalia and Sudan.

4) Intellectual Networks are closely re-lated to those identified above, but is alsoa domain in its own right because actorswithin it survive by argument and phi-losophy. To them, all human phenom-ena are subject of investigation. Byintellectuals we mean those engaged onissues of human good. Though they areby no means united, there is a significantscope for unity amongst many withshared political values; for instance,networks of radical scholars or die-hardacademics who have participated ac-tively in the ideological struggles of theCold War era, as well as young academ-ics who are waking up to the adverseeffects of neo-liberalism. No doubt, radi-cal intellectuals (and their formal andinformal networks) represent the mostresilient, but also highly divided, of allanti-capitalist and anti-establishmentforces. Key examples of radical intellec-tual forums include scholarly societiesand publications such as the Review ofAfrican Political Economy, an activist jour-nal seeking to combine political activismwith intellectual debate, and think-tankssuch as The Third World Forum based inDakar, Senegal.

5) Media Networks such as Al-Jazeerahave sought to provide both a rallyingpoint for anti-establishment voices, anda countervailing space for news anddocumentaries that are contrary to, orcritical of, those perpetuated by main-stream western media houses like CableNews Network (CNN), Voice of America(VOA), American Broadcasting Corporation(ABC), The Times, Foreign Affairs, andCanadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBD).

Trade Unions, Democracy &Popular Struggles in Africa

This section gives account of the DASSevent in which the authors of this articlewere closely involved. A rationale forthis reflective account is to provide afirst-hand description of how issues ofdemocracy and popular struggles areincreasingly pushed to the core of intel-

lectual and policy discussion, and howthe plight of subaltern classes – inparticular, their struggles for livelihoodsand inclusion – are attracting growingattention.

The evening started with a warm wel-come by Prof. John Gabriel, Head of theDepartment of Applied Social Sciences.The first presenter, Chris Coates, gavepresentation on the massive collection ofTrade Union Congress (TUC) collectionsat London Metropolitan University dat-ing back to the colonial period. Shehighlighted the rich archival materials –newsletters, correspondence, and books– as well as classified colonial docu-ments relating to trade unions in Africa.The visual and graphic images andresources highlighted in the power pointpresentation vividly demonstrated thehardships encountered by African tradeunion movements, and the popular forcesthey represent, in colonial Nigeria, GoldCoast, Tanganyika, Kenya, South Africa,

Zambia and Zimbabwe among others, atthe turn of the 20th century. The presenta-tion included what were then classifiedcolonial documents relating to incar-ceration of labour leaders, includinghints of ‘jungle justice’, such as docu-ments on the kangaroo trial of labouractivists – as issue raised by Rattansi in asubsequent presentation.

The second presentation by Usman Tardwelt on the need to understand thematerialist foundation of organised la-bour and democratic struggles in Ni-geria and Africa at large. Tar’s paper,based on an ethnographic research car-ried out in Nigeria, examined the con-tested relationship between the state and‘civil society’ (in its aspect as organisedlabour) in the country’s democratisation.The paper drew attention to the need tounderstand the relationships in terms ofstate-society confrontations and strug-gles – that is, the materialist and existen-tial factors beneath an appearance of

A display of archival resources at the Trades Union Congress Library Collections, London Metropolitan University.For further information contact [email protected]



anti-state and democratic strugglesstaged by labour movements, identifiedin Nigeria as the earliest and the mostenduring veterans of the struggles. TheNigerian labour movement is arguablyone of the most developed, but alsodivided and hierarchical, social move-ment in Africa. Its consistent but contro-versial profile in engaging the state on awide range of issues – workers rights,public welfare, human rights, democrati-sation etc – has been characterised byboth success and failure. Nevertheless,he argued, the Nigerian labour was/iscertainly at the forefront of socio-eco-nomic and pro-democracy struggles. Healso argued that the state – both duringmilitary rule and civilian democratic era– played a key role in reproducing socio-economic and political inequality andgenerating, in the process, anti-state,anti-hegemonic activity from the labourmovement. In so doing, the Nigerianstate simultaneously rewarded pro-stateelements and castigated progressive ele-ments within the rank of labour move-ment. Where necessary, the state inventedrepressive laws to impose ‘order’. Inconfronting difficult circumstances cre-ated by the repressive state – structuraladjustment, retrenchment and milita-rism – the Nigerian Labour Movementdemonstrated both organisationalstrength and weakness, whilst also forg-ing difficult alliances with ‘liberal’ NGOsin confronting a common enemy – thestate.

While accepting the difficulties facingthe trade union movement in Nigeria,Tar traced the role played by organisedworking class in Nigeria’s search fordemocracy. While there was some sup-port of the labour movement, othersjoined the liberal bandwagon of NGO-isation. Too often, the two (labour andNGOs) have joined forces in confrontingrepressive policies of the military state.With a membership of four million, thetrade union movement in Nigeria is apowerful force in the struggle for genu-ine democracy in the most populous

country in Africa. Tar, however, urgedcaution in explaining the real problemsfacing this sector: almost 50% of Nigeri-ans live on less than $1 a day. Anotherkey factor is limited funding: the only‘credible’ source of revenue for the la-bour movement are membership dues(sadly, this too is regulated by the stateand employer organisations). With thestate then subsidising unions, poweroften goes to the state and the tradeunions are thus not able to achieve fullautonomy to struggle for workers’ rights.Added to this are other divisive conflictswithin the membership of trade unions:religious and ethnic differences (a com-mon trend in Africa). This places a hugerestriction on the ability of unions topresent a formidable front for engagingthe state on democracy and social wel-fare.

The third talk by Prof. Piyo Rattansi onthe life and times of Makhan Singh andthe trade union movement in Kenya,drew from Rattansi’s personal reflection(being a contemporary of Singh) and onthe biography of Makhan Singh writtenby Zarina Patel as well as on MakhanSingh’s own personal and uniquerecords. Prof. Rattansi highlighted thestrength of the trade union movement inKenya as a force that was instrumentalin Kenya’s achievement of independ-ence. He went on to explain how thechanges in legislation brought about bythe government of independent Kenyaweakened trade unions as a social force.Makhan Singh himself stands out as agiant who almost single-handedly builta powerful trade union movement whichtranscended racial, religious and otherdivisions and built up a nationwidetrade union movement which influencedworking class organisations in Tangan-yika and Uganda.

Singh’s personal history is a reflection ofdespair and tribulation, a common fateof labour leaders and activists through-out the continent. Singh spent five yearsin colonial prisons in India (1940-1945)

and, soon thereafter, was jailed in Kenyafor trumped-up charges of treason andincitement, but in reality for his staunchanti-colonial stance. The colonial au-thorities saw him as a dangerous social-ist with infectious ideas – a suspicionthat was somewhat nursed by Singh’s‘lesser’ comrades after independence!Sadly, after independence, Makhan Singhwas to be sidelined by the Kenyattagovernment because of his legendaryhard-core communism, anti-imperialism,anti-materialism and modesty whichKenyatta and his fellow anti-colonialists-turned-bourgeosie could not tolerate. Onhis death, his son said, ‘my father died offrustration and despair [that independ-ence turned out to be such a sham]’ (citedin Rattansi, 2007).

A lively discussion followed the presen-tations. Key issues included the need torefocus attention not only on class analy-sis of the struggles of African people buta need to develop a new understandingof class relations, class struggles and theanti-imperialist struggles in Africa to-day. Implicit in these discussions wasthe need to collect and document itshistories of trade union and workingclass struggles. Disseminating informa-tion about the achievements of greatAfrican leaders such as Makhan Singhwas also considered a possible role of theresearch community. The need for con-tinuing such debates was the main mes-sage emerging from the discussion. Thiswas also the conclusion of an earlierDASS debate and discussion sessionwhich had asked for a conference onAfrican progressive themes. A need forinternational solidarity was underlinedby a presentation by Naila Durrani onthe ‘Save Afzal Guru Campaign’ onbehalf of the South Asia SolidarityGroup.5

Conclusion

While globalisation, neo-liberalism andICT have adverse effects on marginalisedclasses in Africa and the global South,

they have fortuitously given rise to themuch-needed space for engaging issuesof democracy, inclusivity and popularstruggles. Apparently, this is a case of‘actually existing civil society’ re-invent-ing novel spaces and popular forums forengaging poverty, exclusion, humanrights violation, abuse of power, envi-ronmental pollution etc. (see Obadare,2006:93-111, written in the context ofNigeria). The development has to be seenin terms of the difficulties and challengesposed by neo-imperialism parading as abenign force for good, while in reality it isthe very source of inequality, povertyand, above all, intellectual and policyautarchy of immense proportions.

The DASS programme is a brave andcrucial initiative in a tyrannical world.Nevertheless, its achievements remainmodest in terms of providing a much-needed space for debating matters ofexploitation and inequality yet still facesmany challenges. The first constraint islimited funding given the reality of short-ages at universities; a second limitationis a dwindling interest in the discussionof ‘class’ in the UK which has facedincreasing marketisation of services inthe economic sphere. At the politicallevel, the space for open debate anddiscussion has been reduced followingthe invasion of Iraq. Successive legisla-tion has reduced civic liberties. But theseeconomic and political factors have, atthe same time, increased people’s thirstfor greater awareness and debate onissues that they may not have beeninterested in, in the past. If there is apositive aspect of the war on Iraq, it isthat it has politicised many people inBritain and the US. Progressive peoplehave continued to have their say onpolitical, social and ethical issues. Theyare taking advantage of the new possi-bilities opened up by technological de-velopments. They are making increasinguse of the internet, emails, chatrooms,listservers, blogs, Youtube etc. to createnew communities of resistance andchange.



Usman A. Tar is a doctoral graduate ofthe University of Bradford and is onleave of absence from the Department ofPolitical Science at the University ofMaiduguri, Nigeria; e-mail: [email protected]; Shiraz Durrani is a SeniorLecturer at the Department of AppliedSocial Sciences London MetropolitanUniversity. He is the author of Never besilent; publishing and imperialism in Kenya,1884-1963 (2006); e-mail: [email protected]. We are grateful toJanet Bujra for making a constructiveinput on initial drafts of this paper.

Endnotes

1. Chris Coates, a Librarian at the Universityspoke on Sources in the TUC Library Collectionsat London Metropolitan University for the studyof the African Labour Movement; Usman Tar aformer Associate Fellow at the Africa Centre forPeace and Conflict Studies, University ofBradford spoke on Organised Labour andDemocratic Struggles in Nigeria, while PiyoRattansi, an emeritus Professor of the Philosophyof Science at the University College London spokeon Makhan Singh and (his contributions) theTrade Union Movement in Kenya. Soundrecordings of these presentations and someprevious DASS Debates & Lectures are availableon request. For more information [email protected] or [email protected].

2. A review by Professor Peter Lloyd (Universityof Sussex) notes that the book ‘deserves to beread not only by Africanists but all thoseinterested in labour movements elsewhere in theworld; for the questions posed are equally relevantand may budge scholars from established andsterile paths’ (Times Higher Educational Sup-plement, 1 April 1977) available http://www2.warwick.ac.uk/fac/soc/sociology/staff/emeritus/cohenr/research/cv/ ; accessed20 June.

3. Available http://www.albany.edu/faculty/fleiva/workersconf.html accessed 21 May 2007.

4. A petition for “Presidential clemency for Mohd.Afzal Guru provides further details on this andis available at http://www.petitiononline.com/CMAG/petition.html

Bibliography

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Pro-poor Budgeting &South Africa’s ‘Develop-mental State’: the 2007-08National Budget

Peter T. Jacobs

South African policy makers nowadaysphrase their policies in the ‘developmentalstate’ discourse, thus following PresidentThabo Mbeki who is the leading advocate ofthis notion. Allies of the ruling AfricanNational Congress (ANC) in the CommunistParty (SACP) and the Congress of SouthAfrican Trade Unions (COSATU) specifi-cally support the pro-poor thrust of thisdiscourse. Official statements and documentsexplaining the importance of the ‘develop-mental state’ to combat South Africa’s highlevels of poverty and unemployment exten-sively cite the East Asian success stories.However, a closer examination of this em-brace of the ‘developmental state’ reveals anuncritical adoption and ambivalent under-standing of a concept that is ostensibly pro-poor. To understand this ‘new’ discourse and

what it means in concrete anti-poverty ac-tions on the part of the state, we criticallyappraise the pro-poor elements articulated inthe 2007-08 national budget.

In the brief historical period since theend of apartheid in 1994, South Africa’soverarching socio-economic developmentpolicy has traversed full circle. At leastuntil 1996, the democratically electedgovernment openly adhered to a state-led development path as outlined in itsReconstruction and Development Pro-gramme (RDP). This orientation waseffectively displaced by the Growth Em-ployment and Redistribution (GEAR)macro-economic policy, signaling thatthe post-apartheid state had now optedfor the globally hegemonic market-ledapproach. Against this broad historicalbackdrop, the recent turn to the ‘develop-mental state’ is upheld as a break fromthe past.

Each ‘new’ economic development policydictates the type of strategies to be em-ployed to ‘create a better life for all’, toecho a slogan popularised by the ANC.This implies that the public budget, acrucial redistributive instrument toachieve this outcome, is shaped by thetype of macro-level economic policy guid-ing the state. In this context, what evi-dence can be gleaned from the 2007-08national budget reflecting the ‘develop-mental state’ discourse prominent inpolicymaking and ruling party circles?This brief essay addresses this question.Before critically reviewing pertinent ele-ments of the 2007-08 national budget,specifically evaluating its pro-poorclaims, we offer a snapshot of the broadtrajectory of post-apartheid economicdevelopment policies. This contextualdiscussion is essential to understand thereasons for our observation that the post-apartheid finance minister continues tofall short of pro-poor budgeting.

Debates: Pro-poor Budgeting & South Africa’s ‘Developmental State’ 505


Post-apartheid EconomicDevelopment Policy & PublicBudgetsApartheid institutionalised racial dis-crimination and spatial segregationagainst blacks. Under this political re-gime, blacks were denied political rightsdespite being the majority of the coun-try’s population. Laws forced black peo-ple to live in underdeveloped rural andurban locations. They thus became thevictims of unemployment, landlessnessand woefully low living standards inAfrica’s wealthiest country. The exten-sion of political rights to the black major-ity in 1994 inaugurated an end to legalapartheid. This new political dispensa-tion, in turn, opened prospects to uproot‘economic apartheid’ and raise the liv-ing standards of the black majority. In itselection manifesto, the RDP, the ANCunderscored the needs of the black ma-jority that the post-apartheid state oughtto address within the context of macr-oeconomic instability and underdevel-opment. The RDP spelled out multipleredistributive targets and strategies, rang-ing from land reform to better provisionof healthcare and education, to be met ifthe economy is to grow. Within this‘growth through redistribution’ frame-work the state favoured a Keynesian-style expansionary fiscal stance,emphasising redistributive state spend-ing. However, as numerous critics laterpointed out, the RDP was seriouslyunder-funded, became the job of somemarginal ‘ministry’ and lacked an ex-plicit growth strategy. When the RDPoffice was eventually closed down, theblack majority continued to live in abjectmisery, without land or secure jobs.

In 1996 the GEAR effectively replacedthe RDP. In this new framework theemphasis switched to the need to ensuregrowth which should, at least in theory,enable post-apartheid South Africa toachieve its redistribution targets. To placethe economy on a robust long run growthpath, markets had to be liberalised in-

cluding greater labour market flexibilityby ‘getting prices right’. The GEAR alsoprescribed a smaller role for the state inthe economy to be achieved through theprivatisation of state owned assets andother contractionary fiscal policies. De-spite sparking tensions between the ANCand its allies in COSATU and the SouthAfrican Communist Party, this neo-lib-eral macroeconomic policy continued toguide the post-apartheid state. While theGEAR helped to control the budget defi-cit or inflation targets, its acceleratedprivatisation drive did not materialise insignificant foreign direct investment.There is no credible evidence to show ifthe fragile growth and ‘macro stability’of recent years resulted from GEAR orfortuitous exogenous factors (state of theglobal economy, for example). What isclear is that since 1994, job creation andaccess to essential social services for thevast majority of blacks in rural andurban areas has not improved.

In 2004 the country celebrated its firstdecade after apartheid. National elec-tions were held at that time in which theruling party convincingly triumphed overits rivals, capturing two-thirds of allvotes. While the country has been trans-formed into a stable democracy in thefirst decade after apartheid, it was alsoacknowledged that extraordinary effortswere required on the part of the state toraise living standards among the ruraland urban poor. Government had, in themean time, endorsed the MillenniumDevelopment Goals of the United Na-tions and made the next ten years the‘decade of delivery’. In addition to arenewed commitment to delivery targetsfor education, healthcare, housing, jobs,land and so forth, government evidentlystarted turning towards a more a state-led development model.

When the ANC held its mid-term policyconference in 2005, the party circulated adiscussion document titled ‘Develop-ment and Underdevelopment’ (ANC,2005). This insightful statement on re-

thinking of economic development policyunderway within the ruling party, pur-portedly drafted by the deputy financeminister, forcefully made the case for a‘developmental state’. Robust ‘develop-mental states’, the paper argued, werekey facilitators in East Asia’s surge to theglobal industrial and technological fron-tier. The idea that resonated with theparty faithful was that ‘late developers’such as South Africa need to replicatewhat appeared to be a successful indus-trial development model. President ThaboMbeki in his 2006 State of the Nationaddress underscored this notion of adevelopmental state. In this speech healso launched the Accelerated and SharedGrowth Initiative for South Africa(ASGISA), ostensibly codifying the de-velopmental role of the state in jobcreation and attacking poverty.1 Never-theless, a virtual silence prevailed withinthe tripartite alliance on many contex-tual specificities and critical analyses ofthat ‘developmental state’ model whichthe 2005 discussion paper simply ig-nored. What leftists in the alliance at-tacked quite fiercely in the ‘Developmentand Underdevelopment’ paper was itsproposal for a dual labour market, effec-tively allowing companies enormous flex-ibility to hire and fire younger workers.These debates suggest that South Afri-ca’s embrace of the ‘developmental state’discourse has not been free of contradic-tions and contestation. A clear con-ceptualisation of the developmental stateis lacking, specifically the mechanismsthrough which public budgets can assistto bridge underdevelopment and im-prove living standards.

Traditionally, the state in a developingcountry was considered developmentalif its intervention in the economy wasdirected at ‘industrial and technologicalcatching-up’. A developmental state in-vests public resources and offers incen-tives to indigenous business classes tobuild industrial and technological nichesectors. The reasons for this industrialbias stem from the microeconomics of

industrial production and intensifiedcompetition inherent in globalisation. Ata microeconomic level these are dynamicsectors characterised by economies ofscale in production and large positivespillovers to other sectors in the economy.The surge in economic growth and higherincomes generated as the economy iscatching up to some global technologicalfrontier, in turn, will create jobs andimprove living standards. Thus thismodel is little different from the trickledown development promised in main-stream economic theory.

In addition to this industrial bias, apatriotic and corruption-free publicbureaucracy is required to craft enablingindustrial, fiscal and other economicpolicies. State bureaucrats will use in-dustrial policy and the public budget toenhance the competitive edge of thedomestic private sector, such as in SouthKorea and Taiwan for instance. Develop-mental states grow even more indispen-sable as poorer economies are moreintegrated into global trade, capital flowsand migration. Globalisation impliesmore intense competition and compelsevery firm to engage in ongoing indus-trial and technological innovation. Butthis, in turn, requires heavy state invest-ment in ‘knowledge-based assets andtechnological capabilities’ to comple-ment learning-by-doing interventions bythe private business sector. To catch-upand stay competitive in this global eco-nomic milieu, poorer countries needstronger developmental states. This popu-lar model of the developmental state onlyoutlines two mechanisms of develop-ment: the state and a high-tech-industrial sector. It basically amounts toan ‘alliance between selected businesselites and state technocrats’ to erect adynamic industrial sector.

Strong developmental states, accordingto this political economy model of catch-ing-up to the world technological fron-tier, facilitated the remarkable structuralchange in South Korea and Taiwan. This



institution enabled these countries, de-velopmental state theorists assert, to:invest in high-tech education and skills;subsidise R&D spending and all layersof science and technology; craft an in-dustrial structure based on national con-glomerates; and speed-up recovery formmacroeconomic instability (1997-1999 fi-nancial crisis) among other things. So-cial indicators of development (poverty,inequality, etc), on the other hand, rarelyfeature in this narrow obsession withtechnological transformation. Both SouthKorea and Taiwan, furthermore, devel-oped under the iron-heel of brutal dicta-torships propped-up with Americanassistance for several decades due togeo-strategic shifts in the post WorldWar Two era. In the context of the ColdWar, it was imperative to build a cordonof states to contain and roll back theinfluence of ‘communism’ resonatingacross the region due to the 1949 Chineserevolution and the Vietnam War. Buttoday, China’s stellar growth, coupledwith its formidable weight in key spheresof globalisation, has finally eclipsed theonce admirable developmental statemodel. Although an appraisal of Chi-na’s development trajectory goes beyondthis brief essay, empirical studies sug-gest that its high growth is coming at theexpense of social development and theenvironment. To understand why eventhe ‘old developmental state’ modelfailed to address the social and ecologi-cal dimensions of development, it isnecessary to probe deeper than thesectoral and state-level analysis.

Developmental state theorists ignorequestions about the systemic base onwhich countries need to industrialise.Yet the systemic mechanisms, marketexchange and private accumulation, inthe final analysis set the limits on what-ever development may occur. This thirdmechanism, the nature of the economicsystem, is the main engine of economicdevelopment. Developmental state theo-rists implicitly accept that because mar-kets and private accumulation drive

industrial dynamism, governments mustadopt and implement policies that bestserve capitalism. However, recent evi-dence shows that deepening market ex-change and private accumulation,whether regulated or unregulated, actu-ally exacerbate inequality, poverty andunemployment. This type of economicsystem undermines sustainable devel-opment and is responsible for a growingshare of ecological destruction. Further-more, any rigorous scientific explana-tion of why East Asian developmentalstates succumbed to devastating crisesin 1997-99 will investigate the role ofthese systemic forces. Explicitly account-ing for this third mechanism of develop-mental states, its hidden Achilles heel,has major implications for fiscal policy,specifically pro-poor budgeting. The de-velopmental state uses its budget toredistribute public resources to ‘patrioticinvestors’. Direct pro-poor budgeting getssubjected to budgeting to develop capi-talism. This model of the developmentalstate underpins South Africa’s 2007-08budget despite contrary claims from lead-ing government officials.

The First Budget Surplus

On 21 February 2007 the minister offinance presented his plans to raise andspend public income in the year ahead.This budget speech came two weeks afterPresident Mbeki’s 2007 State of the Na-tion address from which the financeminister took his lead in terms of toneand broad political thrust. Both mencelebrated recent improvements in eco-nomic growth and boldly proclaimedthat the country is winning the war onpoverty and unemployment. Where de-livery was still short of targets, capacityconstraints need to be overcome throughvolunteerism, privatisation and so forth– all to build a nation based on ‘socialsolidarity’. Media highlights of the 2007-08 budget were the first time budgetsurplus, more corporate tax breaks,infrastructural and social spending anda poverty line. How poor people stand to

benefit from these budget priorities isunclear.

The minister gave generous handouts toboth rich and poor individuals, carefullybalancing the competing priorities of thestate and our nation. At the same time, hehas delivered the country’s first budgetsurplus – a rare feat. Compared to lastyear’s (2006-07) budget, when he tar-geted a deficit of 3.1% of GDP butactually capped the deficit at 0.5%, thisyear marks a remarkable achievement.This milestone in Trevor Manuel’s careerearned him worldwide praise and makeshim a topnotch finance minister in theworld today. It is a significant achieve-ment given that Mr Manuel’s counter-parts in wealthier countries just pile uphuge budget deficits instead of hittingtheir ‘balanced budget’ targets.

It therefore came as no surprise that theprojected surplus of government incomeover its expenses in the 2007-08 budgetattracted such widespread attention. Inthe year ahead, the national govern-ment’s income will be in the order ofR545bn2 (28.1% of GDP) mainly derivedfrom different taxes. National state spend-ing over this period will be aroundR534bn (27.5% of GDP) with the bulk ofthis money going to social services(health, education, welfare grants, infra-structure, etc). Thus the budget surplusof roughly 0.6% of gross domestic prod-uct which the nation’s treasurer plans tofairly split between the haves (more taxcuts) and have-nots (more social spend-ing). In this way, the finance ministersaid, he was helping to construct asociety based on ‘social solidarity’ wherethe rich and poor ought to live in perfectharmony.

Economic Growth, PublicRevenue & Budget Surplus

The three main reasons cited for thecountry’s budget surplus were economicgrowth, a more efficient tax collectionsystem and agency, and reduced ex-

penditure. But the economic logic thatlinks each determinant and the budgetsurplus is complex and often contradic-tory. It is far from straightforward. Takethe hypothesis that the budget surplus isbasically the product of the country’srobust economic health. South Africa’seconomic growth has accelerated overthe last three years largely because min-ing exports are benefiting from China’srapid industrialisation. Another driverof recent growth has been an expansionin luxury consumption among SouthAfrica’s old and nouveau riche. The bot-tom line message is that this fast pace ofeconomic growth is set to continue andthus allow government to gain moreincome through taxes. Of course, this isonly part of the story, as the minister andothers have correctly recognised.

Evidently the tax collection agency,SARS, played a critical role in helping toachieve the 2007-08 budget surplus. In-deed, this country’s tax collector is knownfor its tough stance on tax evasion and islauded for its efficacy in collecting taxesfrom corporate and individual taxpay-ers. Confidence in the efficiency of thecountry’s tax collection system andagency is high. Without a well-function-ing SARS, government will not be able tocapture the potential tax revenues antici-pated from the 6% economic growthtarget. This is at least the textbook story,but may not hold true in practice.

On the contrary, an examination of con-crete facts shows a very complex picture.For example, economic growth was about4.5% in 2005-06 when SARS collected atax surplus of R41.5 billion. While theeconomy grew closer to 5% for 2006-07,surplus tax was in the order of R29billion – lower by R12bn! In other words,economic growth and efficiency in taxrevenue collection are far from beingautomatic causes of budget surpluses. Itis common practice for the treasury totinker with tax rates and state spendingpriorities to reach clearly defined budgettargets. In the final analysis the minister



will push and pull these fiscal levers inline with the country’s overarching eco-nomic orientation.

Expenditure Cutbacks & BudgetSurplus

A way to slash a budget deficit orgenerate a budget surplus is throughsharp cuts in state spending. And statespending has been falling, MinisterManuel lamented, because the differenttiers of government, especially at provin-cial and municipal levels, do not havethe capacity to spend their budgets. Totalprovincial expenditure had topped R161bn in 2005-06 and it is expected tosteadily climb to R222bn in 2008-09.More importantly, although over 75% ofthis spending is ostensibly covering so-cial services (health, education, etc), thisis inadequate to tackle the country’sservice delivery crisis. Take the derisoryincrements in health spending for in-stance. While this has been growing at arate of 5% per year, the money falls shortof what is required to counter the col-lapse in life-expectancy and block thespread of chronic diseases among thepoor. More generally, state provision ofessential social services, including waterand housing, has diminished or com-pletely collapsed in some areas. As analternative, the privatisation of servicedelivery has, in turn, imposed a cost-recovery model that has limited access tothe few that can afford to pay escalatingservice charges. In this framework thevast majority of poor people must gowithout these services once they haveused up the tiny state-subsidised quotas.

How has government reacted to its crit-ics who illustrated that the reasons forthe countrywide service delivery crisesgo beyond ‘bureaucratic capacity con-straints’? In contrast to Mr Manuel,social movements and some allies of theruling ANC insisted that the lack ofservice delivery is a consequence of thestate’s conservative macroeconomic poli-cies. This has created a standoff between

the state and civil society over profoundquestions of the overall economic phi-losophy informing state policies. Forseveral years the Peoples Budget Cam-paign, a coalition in which COSATUand NGOs are key actors, has beenlobbying the state to expand social spend-ing and service delivery. To date, how-ever, government has rejected virtuallyall this coalition’s proposals. But cut-backs in social services have also igniteda fresh wave of urban and rural revoltsspearheaded by social movements withbases among the unemployed and land-less without organisational links to theruling party alliance. This resistancemovement to raise the living standardsof all South Africans has been labeledultra-leftists aiming to sabotage the‘peaceful transition to democracy’. Gov-ernment has persecuted and imprisonedthese anti-poverty activists.3

Provinces and municipalities have beenreceiving more money to build stadiumsand other infrastructure to host the 2010soccer world cup. But government’s 2010infrastructure spending spree will fur-ther squeeze the cash-strapped localgovernments and not tackle the coun-try’s energy and other crises. In thecountry’s 15 richest and biggest cities,our chief world cup venues, 16% ofresidents do not have access to safe,clean, affordable and reliable energyaccording to conservative estimates. Withthe hasty introduction of regional elec-tricity distributors (REDs), the state ispowering ahead with privatising en-ergy. These cities are battling to raiseenough money to construct stadiums forthe 2010 world cup. This will forcemunicipalities to cover more of theircapital expenditure through debt, al-ready overshooting 53% in the 2005-06fiscal year.

This was precisely what the financeminister instructed provinces to do whenthe National Treasury released its re-view of the financial well-being of theprovinces in late 2006. At that time

Minister Manuel advised: ‘If municipali-ties are to reinforce their developmentalrole, the proportion of their capital budg-ets funded from their own revenuesources needs to increase in the periodahead’.4 He was urging provincial fiscalauthorities to cover their expenditurethrough more borrowing (debt) and thestock market – outsourcing and privati-sation! In the finance minister’s view,municipalities must first serve the inter-ests and dictates of wealthy investorsbefore delivering on their ‘developmen-tal goals’, resurrecting the trite trickle-down economic logic. In any case, thefrontline beneficiaries of taxpayer’smoney poured into infrastructure for2010 will undoubtedly be big construc-tion firms and finance capitalists.

Investor-friendly WelfareReforms

Viewed in this larger context, MinisterManuel clearly has been budgeting toplease the wealthy investor classes. Inpost-apartheid South Africa, taxes oncorporate profits have steeply dropped –from 49% to 29% – to lure investment intothe country. And the 2007-08 budgetgave companies more lucrative tax breaks– enriching the bourgeoisie at the ex-pense of working people. This investor-friendly budget is even more glaringwhen looking at the repayment of theapartheid public debt. Mr Manuel prideshimself for honouring and speedily re-paying the debt of the apartheid regime,lowering it from over 50% in the 1990s toa staggering 26% of GDP in 2006. Scrap-ping this enormous resource transfer tofinance capitalists is not on MinisterManuel’s agenda, implying that work-ing people will continue to pay for thecrimes of that hated pre-1994 system.

Those with solid faith in capitalism,someone said a long time ago, know howto display the cosmetic attractions of thissystem to conceal its heinous crimes.These free-market fundamentalists arethe best apologists for this system and

have mastered the art of mystifyingreality. True to this ideology, ministerManuel has presented his investor-friendly 2007-08 budget as if it genuinelyintends to better the lives of workingpeople. While promoting an economybased on individual ‘savings and self-reliance’ (capitalist individualism), healso pays lip-service to ‘social solidar-ity’. For example, Mr Manuel championsan ‘earnings-related social securityscheme’ yet rejects even the diluted BasicIncome Grant (BIG) proposals of thePeoples Budget Campaign. The so-called‘wage subsidy for low income earners’ isreally aimed at making every job cheaperfor companies and may translate into asliding wages as the cost of living sky-rockets. More pro-capitalist welfare re-forms are in the pipeline. In fact, nationaltreasury is searching for ways to priva-tise the state pension system and reducesocial welfare rolls.

In his latest budget speech MinisterManuel also kick-started a public debateon a national poverty line which isdesperately needed to effectively combatpoverty. The Peoples Budget Campaignhas welcomed this initiative whichshould have been at the top of govern-ment’s priorities in 1994. But measuringpoverty is far from a cold countingexercise. To what extent will the pooractively partake to shape the meaning ofpoverty? Will a genuine effort be made toattack and uproot the systemic causes ofthis scourge? If those doing the countingignore the multiple faces of deprivation,many poor people may be excluded fromofficial numbers and consequently anunderestimation of the depth of poverty.This one-sided view or ideological biasin number-crunching is a well-knowntrick in calculating unemployment fig-ures. In South Africa, for instance, politi-cians claim that unemployment hasrapidly fallen to about 25% from around40% in the 1990s. But what largelyaccounts for this astounding drop inunemployment is the inclusion of ‘guess-timates’ on job creation in the expanding



‘informal economy’. And an expandinginformal or survivalist sector is hardly asign of a healthy economy. Hopefully theteam of experts picked to help the minis-ter to define a national poverty line willexpose the fact that capitalism bearsultimate responsibility for underdevel-opment and sliding living standards ofthe rural and urban poor.

Conclusion

This essay has argued that South Afri-can policy makers have uncritically andopportunistically adopted the develop-mental state discourse. While develop-mental state theorists are exclusivelyconcerned with how the state can facili-tate industrial and technological catch-up, they ignore the systemic base of thisprocess. Moreover, they treat the socialand ecological dimensions of develop-ment in terms of simplistic and flawed‘trickle down economics’. The ‘concealedthird dimension’ of the developmentalstate, the nature of the economic system,needs to be explicitly accounted for tomake sense of the paradox of East Asiandevelopmental states. South Korea andTaiwan, exemplary cases, have achievedmiraculous growth rates under the aus-pices of states that were undemocraticand at the expense of the poor and theenvironment. In the light of these experi-ences, fundamental questions must beposed about how developmental statesare conceptualised in South Africa’spolicies and translated into concrete pro-poor actions on the part of the state. Asthe chief redistributive instrument, thenational budget has been a revealingcase study to test the pro-poor claims ofSouth Africa’s developmental state ad-vocates.

The surplus in the 2007-08 nationalbudget and sharply lower deficit in theprevious year are far from ideologicallyneutral number-crunching activities.Minister Manuel’s bookkeeping is in linewith the post-apartheid state’s over-arching political and socio-economic ori-

entation. This obsession with balancedbudgets and surpluses is a core elementin the package of neo-liberal or Washing-ton Consensus economic prescriptions.It derives from the deeply entrenchedGrowth Employment and Redistribution(GEAR) macroeconomic policy adoptedin 1996 which is premised on shrinkingthe size and economic role of the state.The framework that President Mbekiunveiled in his 2006 state of the nationspeech, the Accelerated and SharedGrowth Initiative for South Africa(ASGISA), reinforces the GEAR perspec-tive. ASGISA basically perpetuates theneo-liberal myth that the war on povertyand unemployment can be won throughthe expansion of markets and privateaccumulation of wealth.

Chasing and beating these neo-liberalfiscal targets will not be costless. Butwho must ultimately bear the burden ofultra conservative public budgets? Asnoted above, in the real world the linearcorrelation between economic growthand tax revenues breaks down. What ismost likely to happen in practice when agovernment budgets to win the confi-dence of wealthy investors is for taxrevenues to rise at a falling rate. Tobalance the budget or generate surplusesin this context, state expenditure mustslow down at a faster pace. This meansthe working poor must endure extra belt-tightening.

Peter Jacobs lectures at the University ofthe Western Cape; email: [email protected]

Endnotes

1. President Mbeki stated: ‘The government willmake the necessary interventions to address theissues raised … bearing in mind the critical rolethat government must play as one of ourcountry’s most important developmentalagencies’ (Pres. T Mbeki, State of the Nation, 3February 2006). State intervention, according tothe President, will include among other things(such as an explicit industrial policy) a R370 bn

investment package over 3 years in urban andrural infrastructural programmes.

2. The nominal exchange rate of the US$ to theSouth Africa Rand has been fluctuating betweenUS$1:R6.50-R7.50 in the last year.

3. Ngwane (2003) and Pithouse (2006) movinglytold the stories of this fascinating grassrootsresistance in different parts of South Africa andhow the state has treated activists from thesemovements.

4. Quoted in the Business Day, 18 October 2006,p.2

Bibliography

Amsden, A. (2002). Ruling out NationalDevelopment? States, Markets and Globaliza-tion. Remarks on occasion of receipt of theLeontief Prize at Tufts University, 21 November;(2004), The Rise of the Rest: Challenges to the Westfrom Late-industrializing Economies, Oxford / NewYork: Oxford University Press.

Amsden, A & Wan Chu (2003), Beyond LateDevelopment: Taiwan’s Upgrading Policies,Cambridge, Massachusetts: The MIT Press.

African National Congress (ANC) (2005),‘Development and Underdevelopment- Learningfrom Experience to Overcome the Two-Economies Divide’, ANC National GeneralCouncil Discussion Document, 29 June-3 July.

Edigheji, O. (ed.) (2005), ‘Trajectories for SouthAfrica: Reflections on the ANC’s 2nd NationalCouncil’s discussion documents’, Special editionof Policy Issues and Actors, Vol. 18(2) (June),Johannesburg: Center for Policy Studies.

Evans, P. (1995), Embedded Autonomy: Statesand Industrial Transformation, Princeton: PrincetonUniversity Press.

Krieckhaus, Jonathan (2002), ‘Reconceptuali-zing the Developmental State: Public Savingsand Economic Growth’, World Development30(10):1697-1712.

Luiz, John (2002), ‘South African state capacityand post-apartheid economic reconstruction’,International Journal of Social Economics 29 (8):594-614.

Makgetla, Neva (2004), ‘The Post-ApartheidEconomy’, Review of African Political Economy,No. 100:263-281.

Manuel, Trevor (2006), ‘Budget Speech 2006’,National Treasury, Pretoria: South AfricanGovernment; (2007), ‘Budget Speech 2007’,National Treasury, Pretoria: South AfricanGovernment.

Mbeki, Thabo (2006 & 2007), ‘State of theNation’, Address by President Thabo Mbeki.Office of the President, Pretoria: South AfricanGovernment.

Ngwane, Trevor (2003), ‘Sparks in theTownship’, New Left Review 22 (July/August):37-56

Pithouse, Richard (2006), ‘The Struggle is aSchool: The Rise of the Shack Dwellers’Movement in Durban, South Africa’, MonthlyReview 57 (9) February: 30-51.

Schneider, Geoffrey E. (2003), ‘Neo-liberalismand Economic Justice in South Africa: Revisitingthe Debate on Economic Apartheid’, Review ofSocial Economy LX1(1) March:23-50.

With us or against us?South Africa’s Position inthe ‘War against Terror’

Jane Duncan

In March 2007, the Secretary of the MediaReview Network, Firoz Osman, asked whetherSouth Africa was joining the ‘war againstterror’ on behalf of ‘Uncle Sam’.1 Thisquestion was posed after a series of incidentswhere South African terror suspects were‘fingered’ by the United States (US) admin-istration, and three individuals disappeared,raising fears that the South African authori-ties had co-operated with US intelligence tohave them ‘rendered’ without due process.

These suspicions were heightened inMarch 2007, when the Director Generalof Intelligence, Barry Gilder, stated at apress conference that South Africa was atraining ground for Muslim terrorists.Gilder also cited numerous incidentswhere South African passports werefound in the possession of Al-Qaedasuspects.2 He stated that while SouthAfrica is not directly threatened withterrorist activity, it may well be a safe

Debates: With Us or Against us? South Africa’s Position in the ‘War against Terror’ 513


haven where international terroristscould lay low. As a result, the SouthAfrican authorities were tracking themovements of suspects from Pakistan,Somalia, Bangladesh and Jordan.3

Gilder was widely criticised for thesecomments, for fuelling Islamophobia,and for equating the ‘problem’ of terror-ism with Muslims. He was accused ofignoring threats posed by other armedpolitical organisations, such as the whiteright-wing Boeremag (‘Boer force’). Thesecriticisms, which led to Osman’s ques-tion, are not without foundation. Whenhis utterances are read together withgrowing evidence of US renditions onSouth African soil, and when the processthat led up to the development of SouthAfrica’s anti-terrorism laws is taken intoaccount, the relevance of Osman’s ques-tion becomes all too apparent.

Certainly, South Africa would protestthat it has made clear its unwillingnessto be Uncle Sam’s Uncle Tom in Africa.The South African government has con-demned the September 11 attacks andother indiscriminate attacks on civilians.However, according to Intelligence Min-ister Ronnie Kasrils, such attacks shouldbe distinguished sharply from the armedstruggles of anti-colonial and nationalliberation movements, whose activitiesare morally and legally just:4 a distinc-tion that the US does not make.

According to Kasrils, there is a majorqualitative difference between terroristviolence and revolutionary violence. De-fining the former as ‘indiscriminate, vio-lent attacks on the civilian population’,5

he maintained that such attacks werehardly ever carried out by armed libera-tion movements, and ran counter to theirethos. Referring to groups who engage interrorism, rather problematically, as‘Jihadi movements’, he further arguedthat

whatever the claims of injustice the lead-ers, foot soldiers and sympathizers of the

amorphous Jihadi movement of today mightrefer to, we do not see their cause fittinginto the liberation paradigm I have re-ferred to … [For such reasons] I wouldargue that the governments of thesubregion, against the backdrop of ourliberation struggles and sense of human-ity and justice, have found ourselvesduty-bound to condemn the atrocities thathave paraded under the banner of theJihadists.6

He further argues for the need for inter-national co-operation to beef up capacityrequired to deal with the terrorist threatposed by groups such as Al-Qaeda. Healso argued that the Palestinian strugglefor self-determination is a just war, andshould not be conflated with the terror-ism of Al-Qaeda.

Observers of the post-apartheid SouthAfrican politics may argue that it isrational for South Africa to adopt such aposition; after all, the ruling AfricanNational Congress (ANC) was itself pro-scribed as a terrorist organisation afterhaving taken up the armed struggleagainst the apartheid regime. Given itsown history, how could it not be sensi-tive to the moral and political differencesbetween reactionary and revolutionaryviolence? The ANC-led governmentwould claim that it has attempted tochart a ‘third way’ in the war againstterror, which involves addressing theproblem of right-wing violence againstcivilians, while rejecting the US’s ap-proach towards prosecuting the ‘waragainst terror’.

South Africa has recognised (albeit tac-itly) that the US’s objectives in its anti-terrorism drive are imperialist in nature.In fact, since September 11, the war hasmutated beyond focusing on those im-mediately responsible for these attacks,to include a range of individuals andorganisations opposed to US foreignpolicy. The US has turned the events ofSeptember 11 to its advantage to renewits economy through military expansion

into oil rich countries. In the process, ithas waged oil wars in countries like Iraqin an attempt to achieve its foreign policyobjective of gaining control of strategicoil supplies. Those who oppose theapplication of this foreign policy objec-tive in the Middle East – where the USpumps billions of dollars into the Israelimilitary as a buffer – are targetted.

Blacklists

The fact that there is not an internation-ally agreed-on definition of terrorismallows the ‘war against terror’ to target awide range of people opposed to the USadministration. The author of Diningwith Terrorists, Phil Rees, has stated that,

The failure to define ‘terrorist’ means thatthe ‘war on terror’ can be used as a cloak tolegitimize American military power be-cause it portrays the challenge as a looselydefined threat that will never disappear.By being able to explain exactly who is aterrorist, the ‘war on terror’ can mutateinto a war against any ideology thatchallenges America and her allies.7

Which organisations have been targetedin particular? The American and Euro-pean Union (EU) blacklists have under-gone roughly three phases ofdevelopment in identifying the axis ofevil. Initially they listed Al-Qaeda andrelated organisations and individuals,proceeding to list revolutionary nationalliberation organisations opposed toAmerican imperialism and the occupa-tion of Palestinian land, such as theKurdistan Worker’s Party (PKK), theETA in the Basque territories, the Leba-non-based Hizbollah, and the PopularFront for the Liberation of Palestine(PFLP).8 The third phase involves theanti-globalisation and emerging socialmovements, with the FBI having calledfor action against left-wing groups ‘whoprofess a revolutionary socialist doctrineand view themselves as protectors of thepeople against the dehumanising effectsof capitalism and imperialism’.9

However, US foreign policy is shiftingattention away from the Middle East toAfrica, which is an indication of how theUS’s foreign policy towards the conti-nent has changed. In 1995, the Depart-ment of Defence stated that ‘ultimatelywe see very little traditional strategicinterest in Africa’.10 Since then, five fac-tors have shaped increased US interestin Africa: the prevalence of HIV/AIDs,oil, global trade, armed conflict and therise of ‘terrorist’ activity. Economic rela-tions between the US and Africa havetrebled in fifteen years, leading to thedevelopment of the Africa Growth andOpportunity Act (AGOA), focused onoptimising extraction of the continent’senergy sources.11 In fact, it has beenestimated that by 2015, approximatelyone quarter of the US’s oil supplies willbe provided by West Africa alone.12

However, the US’s accumulation drivein Africa is meeting with resistance, as ithas done in other parts of the world. Themounting struggles in the Niger Deltaagainst oil extraction, coupled with thegrowing threats to US interests in theEast and Horn of Africa, have led the USto increase its military presence in Af-rica. The US had already set up what itcalls ‘lily pads’ on various parts of thecontinent that allows it to prosecute the‘war against terror’ from strategic loca-tions. However, the US now intends toconsolidate its presence on the continentthrough forming a new unified nationalsecurity command, Africa Command(Africom), and it further requires a loca-tion for its headquarters in Africa. PrexyNesbitt has commented that:

And when Africans resist as they surelywill [against the plunder of Africa’s oil],the backup plan is to declare Africans whowant to control their own resources‘terrorists’, and through Africom, deployUS military might to lock down Africansand African resources.13

Owing to its highly developed military,telecommunications and intelligence in-

Debates: With us or against us? South Africa’s Position in the ‘War against Terror’ 515


frastructure, US eyes have turned expect-antly to South Africa, in spite of the factthat several other countries have ex-pressed interest in bidding for the host-ing of Africa Command’s headquarters.However, to its credit, the South Africangovernment has indicated officially thatit will not entertain the possibility of a USmilitary presence on its soil, in spite ofthe fact that the US considers the govern-ment to be a ‘strategic partner’.14

These developments indicate that the‘war against terror’ is coming closer tohome. Does South Africa’s official posi-tion match up to its unofficial position,and how will it react when tested? Thefirst indication that South Africa may notbe as independently-minded as it wouldlike to claim, came when the governmentattempted to introduce anti-terrorism leg-islation. South Africa tried for three yearsto develop anti-terrorism legislation thatit could pass without mass opposition,and in the process developed three dif-ferences Bills. The first draft was devel-oped in 2000, based on a 1,000 page LawCommission report which consideredoptions for the South African Bill. Afteran outcry about the repressive nature ofthe Bill, including from Amnesty Inter-national, the government went back tothe drawing board and developed an-other Bill.

The second version was released forpublic comment in 2002. It was modeledextensively on the Canadian Anti-terror-ism Act of 2001, which was widelyopposed in Canada for its draconianprovisions and its vague and overbroaddefinition of ‘terrorist act’. This defini-tion criminalised as a terrorist act virtu-ally anything done for political, religiousor ideological reasons as long as suchactivity results in death or serious bodilyharm or disruption of what the statewould consider an essential service.

The Canadian Liberal Democratic gov-ernment attempted at the time to quelldiscontent with the Bill by promising the

public that the Act would not be used torepress dissent. In September 2002, mem-bers of a special anti-terrorism policeunit raided the homes of prominent firstnations activists for supposedly stock-piling weapons, and then proceeded toquestion them about their political ac-tivities. In 2003, the government changedits mind and added Hizbollah to its listof suspects banned under the law, aftermonths of insisting that it was a legiti-mate national liberation organisation;the about-turn took place after pressure,especially from Zionist groups. Studentsfrom suspect countries like Syria andIraq have been banned from taking uni-versity chemistry courses as they mayuse this knowledge to manufacturebombs.15

Civil Liberties Under Threat

But the South African Bill’s definition ofterrorist act was even worse than theCanadian one. For example, the Cana-dian lawmakers agreed to amend thedefinition of ‘terrorist act’ in the Cana-dian Bill to exclude forms of dissent thatmay be illegal, but that do not involveacts of serious violence against civilians,such as wildcat strikes or sit-ins. Thisamendment was necessary to ensurethat people engaged in acts of civildisobedience were not tried as terrorists(possibly the most serious offence on thestatute books, attracting extremely harshsentences). However, the South Africandefinition retained the reference to illegalactivities amounting to terrorist acts.What this meant was that the govern-ment could use their discretion to defineunlawful dissent as terrorist actions,such as the Soweto Electricity CrisisCommittee’s ‘illegal’ reconnection of wa-ter and electricity in poor households,and illegal gatherings. In fact, the SouthAfrican law went even further than theCanadian law and outlawed simplemembership of a terrorist organisation.Many other aspects of the Bill were farmore repressive than the Canadian ver-sion, raising questions about what the

South African government’s real motiveswere.

Also, the Bill omitted to mention a clausecontained in the old Organisation ofAfrican Unity’s (OAU) Algiers Conven-tion of 1999, which states that the strug-gle waged by peoples in accordance withthe principles of international law fortheir liberation or self-determination, in-cluding the armed struggle against colo-nialism, occupation, aggression, anddomination by foreign forces shall not beconsidered as terrorist acts.

The South African Bill also introducedthe element of motive into the definitionof the crime, in the process movingcriminal law away from the principlethat wrongful acts should be punished,rather than motive. As was argued at thetime, adding political and religious fac-tors to the element of motive is particu-larly dangerous, as this could well leadto the criminalisation of organisationsand ideologies that oppose the govern-ment of the day. It was also argued thatthe sorts of criminal acts covered by theBill were already criminalised in exist-ing legislation, and that the Bill wasunnecessary.16

As Benita Whitcher has argued:

[Unlike being a murderer], being a ‘ter-rorist’ is often a function of being on thewrong side of power rather than possess-ing any inherent and universally disa-greeable qualities or having committed areadily identifiable act … It should beborne in mind that terrorism is an offencein which those who legislate have veryimmediate, often personal, and certainlyvested political and ideological interests.17

Whitcher further noted that the politicalexpressions of many mass organizationsin marginalised communities use rheto-ric that may be considered militant, evenseditious. The Bill was drafted in amanner that could criminalise such rheto-ric, and direct action (even if ‘illegal’), as

terrorist.18 The highly restrictive nature ofthe Bill prompted mass opposition inSouth Africa. The Congress of SouthAfrican Trade Unions threatened a strikeif the Bill was not withdrawn for exten-sive rewriting, as it argued that is mem-bers would be directly affected; the Billwas withdrawn, and rewritten.19 Manyproblematic clauses still remain, but thedefinition of terrorist act was narrowed,and the clause from the OAU conventionadded.

The government also introduced highlyinvasive monitoring and interceptiondraft legislation. Once again, after publicprotests, a less restrictive Regulation ofInterception of Communications Act waspromulgated. Nevertheless, when com-pared to similar laws in other jurisdic-tions, this law remains problematic.While interception orders must be grantedby a judge, the grounds on which orderscan be issued are overbroad. There is norequirement in the Act for informationabout interception orders to be pub-lished and presented in Parliament, as isthe case in some other countries: thisprovides at least some checks and bal-ances on the potential for abuse of‘snoop laws’.

Even more recently, evidence has sur-faced of South Africa having co-operatedwith the FBI in ‘rendering’ terror sus-pects without the necessary extraditionprocesses. Apart from the proceduralproblems with this, America is notoriousfor ‘rendering’ and detaining innocentpeople, which makes South African ad-herence to procedure all the more neces-sary. In 1999, the government wasadmonished by the Constitutional Court,for effecting what it termed a ‘disguisedextradition’ of Khalfan KhamisMohamed, a suspect in the embassybombings in Tanzania. The court foundthat his removal by FBI agents was inviolation of international law and theConstitution.



In spite of this pronouncement from theConstitutional Court, other suspicious‘disappearances’ have taken place. Forexample, Khalid Rashid was arrested inSouth Africa as an illegal alien in 2005,and after a secret detention lasting eight-een months, he turned up for trial inPakistan. This incident led Rashid’sfamily and lawyer to accuse the SouthAfrican government of having facilitatedhis removal under the Central Intelli-gence Agency’s ‘extraordinary rendi-tions programme’.20 The South AfricanDepartment of Home Affairs argued thatthey did not know that he was beingsought for questioning about allegedacts of terror. When the matter was takento court, the court found that while theDepartment had acted suspiciously inthe deporting of Rashid – especiallygiven that he was dispatched on achartered jet from a military airbase inPretoria – there was insufficient informa-tion to conclude that the governmentknew about the allegations against him.

Pakistani national Saud Memon wasreleased after four months of detention(two of which were in Guantanamo Bay),and then died. He was wanted in con-nection with the murder of Wall StreetJournal journalist Daniel Pearl in May2002, who was beheaded by Al-Qaedaoperative Khalid Sheik Mohammed. Thishas led to speculation that

the South African government gaveUnited States intelligence agencies carteblanche to pursue their ‘war againstterror’ on South African soil.21

Memon testified in his trial in Pakistanthat the FBI had arrested him in SouthAfrica in March 2003, in spite of the factthat the Department of Home Affairscould not produce a record of his depor-tation, and the Department of Justicecould not produce an extradition re-quest.

Then in June 2007, it was reported that aJohannesburg man studying in Syria,

Abdul Hamid Moosa, was secretly ab-ducted by US soldiers, and moved to aUS base in Ethiopia, where he is alleg-edly being held without trial.22 To theircredit, the South African Department ofForeign Affairs intervened to secureMoosa’s release, who recounted shock-ing stories of human rights abuses at theUS base.23

But more serious tests of South Africa’smettle are unfolding, and it remains to beseen how it will react. In January 2007,the United States government announcedthat it intended to place two SouthAfricans on its list of terrorism suspects,which at that stage listed approximately325,000 people. This list requires allUnited Nations (UN) agencies to freezefinancial transactions of those listed.Junaid Ismail Dockrat, a dentist fromMayfair, and his cousin, Pretoria clericFarhad Ahmed Dockrat, were named ashaving suspected links to Al-Qaeda – acharge that the Dockrats have denied.The US government also requested theUnited Nations to list the Dockrats asterror suspects as well.

The existence of such extensive lists hasraised concerns about the human rightsimplications for those listed, as there isno transparency in how the lists are puttogether, leading to possibilities thatinnocent people may be listed, and haveno recourse to ensure the removal of theirnames. A case in point involves promi-nent South African academic AdamHabib – who is Muslim – and who wasdeported from the US for unspecifiedreasons, and the visas of his wife andtwo sons were revoked. The South Afri-can government has stated that it recog-nises the problem, and has taken up thecase of the Dockcrats. How the govern-ment will react when pressed on thismatter remains to be seen.

In conclusion, in spite of protestations tothe contrary, there are indications thatSouth Africa’s position is becoming anincreasingly prone one. South Africa’s

position in the US-dominated globalmilitary-security complex is, admittedly,invidious. Its liberation struggle creden-tials lean it towards being quietly criticalof the US-led ‘war against terror’, andeven propels it to take the occasional butrare openly hostile position (such as onthe invasion of Iraq). Yet as what RogerSouthall has called an ‘emerging middlepower’,24 it occupies a structural posi-tion in the imperialist chain that makes itextremely susceptible to US pressure. Itsvulnerabilities should be of concern toAfrica as a whole, especially given thefact that countries like Ethiopia andKenya have already fallen under theUS’s spell, and are prosecuting the ‘waragainst terror’ to different extents on theUS’s behalf (and to their own benefit).

South Africa’s ambivalence about whichside it is on in the ‘war against terror’ isunsurprising: it is a logical consequenceof its shift toward neo-liberal policies inthe late 1990s. The country’s attempts toglobalise the economy – ostensibly toachieve internal developmental objec-tives – requires a climate of ‘stability’ toprotect the accumulation of wealth byforeign and local investors. Wide-rang-ing anti-terrorism measures have provedto be very handy in doing just that inother countries.

A continental anti-imperialist solution isneeded to this growing problem. TheWorld Social Forum has important workto do in resisting the re-colonisation ofAfrica’s resources under the guise of the‘war against terror’; however, it wouldneed to revise its exclusion of armedresistance movements. Significantly, the‘war against terror’ issues received someprominence at this year’s WSF, withluminaries like Danny Glover and Arch-bishop Desmond Tutu warning againstthe repressive manner in which the waris being prosecuted. They argued thatsuch measures are fuelling anti-American sentiment. They also relatedhow other governments are followingsuit, using anti-terrorism measures to

clamp down on civil society, and urgedorganisations to reclaim these spaces.

The WSF could also help to link thestruggles against repressive anti-terror-ism measures together and experiencescould be compared and contrasted. Soli-darity must be extended to social move-ments in Kenya, where mass oppositionhas stopped the anti-terror law in itstracks. Kenyans have rich experiences inrelation to struggles against terrorismmeasures, as they have experienced bothsides of the terrorism equation. Thelabeling of the Mau Mau national libera-tion struggle as terrorist in colonial timesled to the torture and murder of manyKenyans who launched a reparationscase in Britain last year to secure com-pensation. Following the removal of therepressive President Daniel Arap Moifrom office in 2003, Kenyan landlesswomen spearheaded a Mau Mau resur-gence for collective land entitlements,and against corporate control of thecountry’s most fertile land.

More recently, and in spite of the bomb-ing of the US Embassy in 1998 in whichmany innocent Kenyans died, mass Ken-yan protests stopped the passage of ananti-terrorism Bill. In mid-2003, the DailyNation reported on rising mass protestsat what is seen as Washington’s bully-ing tactics against Kenya. Their citizensknow that the US and Kenyan govern-ments would use the Bill mainly to quelldiscontent against neo-liberal policies inKenya. They also know that protection ofcivilians against right-wing terrorist at-tacks is merely a subsidiary objective ofthe Bill. Kenyan opposition has againresurfaced against the Bill, as the USattempts to ensure the Bill is promul-gated given rising opposition to USforeign policy in East Africa.

The South African and Kenyan experi-ences suggest that struggles against anti-terrorism measures can achieve results.Yet these results will be short lived if thegrip of US foreign policy on strategic



African governments are not loosened.This is why South Africa’s position onthe ‘war against terror’ matters: it standsto affect the sub-region, and even thecontinent, very directly in the long run.Attempts by South African governmentofficials to stand up to US pressure mustbe supported (such as the unilaterallisting of terror suspects). But there areindications that these attempts are patchyand inconsistent, and mask a deeperalignment with US foreign policy than itmay care to admit. If this is a fair readingof the situation, then the left in Africashould be afraid, very afraid.

Jane Duncan; e-mail: [email protected]

Endnotes

1. See Osman, Firoze, ‘Is South Africa Joiningthe War on Terrorism?’, downloaded on 1 June2007 from http://www.mediareviewnet.com/war_detail.asp?key=2143&itemNumber=0. 1

2. See Osman, F., Ibid. p. 2.

3. South African Press Association, ‘MuslimGroups Slam Terror Fears’, Mail and Guardian,downloaded from http://www.mg.co.za/articlePage.aspx?articleid=302003&area=/breaking_news/breaking, on 1 June 2007.

4. Kasrils, R., ‘Address by Ronnie Kasrils, MP’,Dialogue hosted by the Brenthurst Foundation:Southern Africa and International Terrorism, 25January 2007, p. 5.

5. Ibid., p. 3.

6. Ibid., p.4.

7. See Osman, p. 2.

8. See Duncan, J. ‘Anti-terrorism Bill will stampon human rights’, Sowetan. 14 January 2003.

9. Freedom of Expression Institute, ‘Submissionon the Anti-terrorism Bill [B12-2003], submittedto the Parliamentary Portfolio Committee onSafety and Security, April 2003, p.7.

10. Ploch, L. Congressional Research Servicereport for Congress: ‘Africa Command: USstrategic interests and the role of the US militaryin Africa, 16 May 2007, p.7.

11. Ibid. p.10.

12. Dixon, B., ‘Africa: where the next US oil warwars will be’, Black Agenda Report, 28 February2007, p. 1.

13. Ibid. p.3.

14. Ploch, L. see note 10, p. 8.

15. See Duncan, note 8 above.

16. Freedom of Expression Institute, ‘Submissionon the Anti-terrorism Bill [B12-2003]’, submittedto the Parliamentary Portfolio Committee onSafety and Security. April 2003, p.7.

17. Benita Whitcher, quoted in Freedom ofExpression Institute, ‘Submission on the Anti-terrorism Bill [B12-2003]’, submitted to theParliamentary Portfolio Committee on Safetyand Security. April 2003, p. 7.

18. Ibid.

19. Cosatu, ‘Submission on the Anti-terrorismBill’, submitted to the Portfolio Committee onSafety and Security. April 2003, p. 2.

20. South African Press Association, ‘MuslimGroups Slam SA Terror Fears’, Mail and Guardian,14 March 2007, available from http://www.mg.co.za/.

21. Makgetla, T., ‘Was Pearl suspect rendered?’,Mail and Guardian, 25 May 2007.

22. Schmidt, M. & SA Press Association, ‘USarmy abducted SA man’, The Star, 9 June 2007.

23. Naran, J., ‘”Hellhole” ordeal ends for SAman’, Tribune, 17 June 2007, p. 1.

24. Schoeman, M., ‘South Africa as an emergingmiddle power: 1994-2003’ in J. Daniel, A. Habib,A. & R. Southall, State of the Nation: South Africa2003 – 2004, Pretoria: Human Sciences ResearchCouncil, p. 349.

The following briefing was originallypublished in Le Monde Diplomatique in2005. Now, two years later, its relevanceis all too apparent.

Kikuyus Muscle in onSecurity & Politics: Kenya’sRighteous Youth Militia

Jean-Christophe Servant

Nairobi’s 143 shantytowns are lawless zonespatrolled by armed vigilante gangs of desti-tute youths. The largest and most remarkableof these militia is called Mungiki. It began asa spiritual movement but now mixes hust-ling and extortion with politics.

John Maina Njenga, head of the Mungikimilitia, says: ‘The government is ournumber one advertising agency. Themore they repress us, the more popularwe get. Out of 4,000 prisoners here, morethan 1,000 are Mungiki supporters.’‘Here’ is the high security Kamiti prisonjust outside the Kenyan capital, Nairobi.The state has charged Njenga, 36, and 32of his lieutenants with murder, and theyare awaiting trial: ‘Twelve of us to a cellbuilt for three, and with no mattresses.’Not that Njenga is particularly worriedabout the verdict. ‘I am not guilty,’ hesays, ‘we have been smeared by themedia – it’s just another manoeuvreagainst our movement.’

According to Kenyan newspapers,Mungiki is a private army, responsiblefor a high proportion of the many inci-

dents of violence each day in Nairobi, acity whose population has reached anestimated 3 million in just over 100 years,and with one of the worst crime rates insub-Saharan Africa.1 Mungiki is regu-larly implicated in attacks on policeofficers, hustling on public transport,murders, drug dealing and protectionrackets. It is one of the most powerful ofthe informal regulators of Nairobi’s 143outlying shantytowns; some 60% of itscitizens are crowded into these lawlessplaces at 4,000 a hectare. Mungiki pro-vides a private security service, dispens-ing the justice of the streets where policeservices are in tatters.2 It is the blackmarket equivalent of the legal privatesecurity firms that look after the poshareas (Nairobi, with its United Nationsorganisations, has more than 20,000expatriates).

‘Total War’

The Kenyan government has declared‘total war’ on Mungiki. The Nairobi-based African Church Information Serv-ice calls its members ‘predators’ whose‘thirst for blood is matched only by thatof vampires’. Foreign journalists in Nai-robi are alarmed by Mungiki’s violentafro-centric fundamentalism: it favoursfemale circumcision and is committed tofighting ‘the more degenerate aspects ofwestern culture’.3 But Njenga’s 22-year-old girlfriend, Irene, is an uncircum-cised, trouser-wearing, soul music fan.She drives us to Kamiti prison to meethim. ‘The Mungiki aren’t barbarians,’she says as we crawl through the city-centre traffic, ‘they’re the young.’

Irene is not alone in her assessment:opinions on the movement vary enor-mously. Wangari Maathai, assistant min-

Review of African Political Economy No.113:521-590© ROAPE Publications Ltd., 2007

Briefings



ister for environment, natural resourcesand wildlife, who last year [2004] becamethe first African woman to be awarded theNobel peace prize, calls Mungiki mem-bers ‘the disinherited, the ones who havebeen refused everything. The schools haverejected them for want of space and theyhaven’t found work. As far as they can see,they’re excluded from everything simplyfor being ethnic Kikuyus’.4 The UnitedStates mentioned the movement in its2003 annual report on international reli-gious freedom, noting that the Kenyangovernment ‘frequently harassed and pe-riodically arrested and detained’ Mungikimembers.

The chameleon character of the organi-sation partly explains why you get suchsurprisingly different assessments of it,depending on whom you ask. Mungiki isinvolved in some way in all of Kenya’sproblems: religious and ethnic frictions,political struggles, property rights andsecurity, which is Kenya’s biggest head-ache. ‘It really is unique among the newvigilante groups in Nairobi,’ says DavidAnderson, lecturer in African studies atOxford University. ‘No other organisa-tion places so much emphasis on ethnic-ity and the tribal past. More importantly,no other organisation has the samecapacity for mass violence’.5 But similarmilitias are springing up all over disin-herited urban Africa, each with its ownrules and principles – from the notoriousOduduwa People’s Congress in Lagos,Nigeria, to South Africa’s Pagad (PeopleAgainst Gangsterism and Drugs).

Mau Mau Descendants

Mungiki is a Kikuyu word, meaningmultitude. The organisation emerged inthe early 1990s as a traditionalist sect onthe lush, mountainous slopes of the RiftValley, the result of a split within an-other Kikuyu roots movement, the Tent ofthe Living God. As a more self-con-sciously African variant of the AmericanPentecostalism practised by growingnumbers of Kenyans, the Tent both

celebrates the courage of an older genera-tion of Kikuyus in the Mau Mau wars ofindependence,6 and promotes Kikuyubeliefs about the origin of the universe.

Styling itself as ‘a prophet of doom’, themovement has provided young Kikuyuswith ‘somewhere to migrate in theirheads when they could no longer mi-grate in search of land to cultivate’, asHervé Maupeu, head of the French Insti-tute for African Research in Nairobi,puts it.7

Most of the young followers of the twomovements are descendants of Mau Maufighters killed by British colonial power.They take snuff ‘to stimulate the mind’and wear dreadlocks ‘like so manywounds’, says Ngonya Wagakonya, spir-itual leader of the Tent of the Living God,‘so that we never forget how the MauMau were betrayed by one Kenyan gov-ernment after another’. Wagakonya firstencountered Mungiki in June 1992.‘These youngsters weren’t interested inme as their spiritual leader. They wantedto be autonomous; their movement hasturned political. But though we mayhave ideological differences, they arestill my children.’

The years 1991-94 saw widespread eth-nic violence in the Rift Valley province,the work of the government of Danielarap Moi, who is a Kalenjin, withKikuyus being the main victims. Theviolence widened Mungiki’s supportbase, as tens of thousands of refugees leftthe slopes of Mount Kenya and piled intothe Nairobi slums.

Once established in the capital, Mungikibegan to preach a mixture of ‘secondcoming’ theology and militant politics.In the poor areas of eastern Nairobi,where 60% of the population is agedbetween 15 and 29, the movement be-came the voice of a generation, tying itsethnic demands to social slogans andlining up beside other movements in thestruggle for democracy against Moi’s

autocratic regime. ‘We saw Mungiki’sleaders as human rights campaigners,’recalls Njuguma Mutahi of PeopleAgainst Torture.8 ‘The authorities wereclamping down on the movement be-cause of its social demands: land redis-tribution, help for the unemployed,improved living conditions in theshantytowns.’

A Player in the Violence Market

But Mungiki had also become a dynamicplayer in the most important market inNairobi’s lawless areas: violence. In therent wars that pitted landlords againststruggling tenants, Mungiki memberscould be hired to fight for either side.9

They also serve as forces of order in areasignored by the police, and extort moneyfrom drivers and passengers of Nairobi’scommuter taxis (matatus) on the routesbetween the city centre and outlyingslums such as Mathare or Dandaura.

By the 2002 presidential election, whichbrought defeat for Moi’s ruling KenyaAfrican National Union (Kanu) party,Mungiki was no longer a small sect, butan underworld, with hundreds of thou-sands of members and a considerableamount of money. In the electoral battlebetween Uhuru Kenyatta, the Kanu can-didate anointed by Moi as his chosensuccessor, and Mwai Kibaki for theopposition National Rainbow Coalition(Narc), Mungiki could not be ignored.Despite its ill-treatment under Moi,Mungiki supported Kenyatta.

Moi’s final 10 years in power saw amassive escalation in corruption. En-demic embezzlement among the politicalclass was accompanied by assassina-tions of its ethnic Luo and Kikuyuopponents. Law and order degeneratedinto little more than the rule of the richover the poor: the police and the legalprofession were both notoriously cor-rupt. Most of Nairobi’s outlying areasfell into the hands of gangs of vigilantes.As the 2002 election approached, these

were politically mobilised as Jezis, streetarmies that ethnic chiefs traditionally re-activate at election time. ‘Friends becameenemies overnight,’ says a former mem-ber of the Baghdad Boys militia. Hun-dreds of poor, unemployed young people‘joined the politicians’ gangs just in thehopes of getting something to eat in theevening’.

Light weapons poured into the ghettoeswhere at least 7% of the populationcarried a gun, according to alarmedinternational observers. Mungiki’s ac-tivities provided further justification fortheir alarm. The sect now had clearpolitical ambitions, aligning itself withthe enemies of the Kanu party.

A show of strength on 3 March 2002proved that it had joined the ranks of thepolitical street gangs and was no longerdifferent from the rest. In the KariobangiNorth area Mungiki members went on apunitive expedition against a rival mili-tia known as the Taliban; 21 people died,and with them the great hopes that manyyoung people had pinned on the move-ment, the only urban youth group to bebased on a genuine social and politicalagenda. A few days later the Moi govern-ment banned Mungiki along with 17other sects, gangs and private armies,blaming them for the rampant insecurity.

But Nairobi did not burn, defying manya gloomy prognosis. In December 2002the Narc won the election and MwaiKibaki, a Kikuyu, became president, end-ing 24 years of Kanu party rule. Now,though, Kenya finds itself in a period ofconfusion where, as the Kenyan journal-ist David Kiare puts it, ‘no one daresmake any kind of prognosis for thefuture’. Summing up the mood of dissat-isfaction, popular slang has decided thatNarc stands for ‘nothing ’as reallychanged’.

The largest two parties in the coalition,President Kibaki’s National AllianceParty of Kenya (NAK) and the Liberal

Briefing: Kikuyus Muscle in on Security & Politics 523


Democratic party (LDP) led by RailaOdinga, a Luo, are locked in battle overconstitutional reform to limit the powersof the executive.10 Meanwhile the ‘MountKenya mafia’, a clique of ministers andother Kikuyu friends of President Kibaki,are seen as a serious threat to nationalunity and the establishment of genuinedemocracy.11

The prices of essential goods have risensharply and fares rocketed. This is aserious blow to the shantytowns, where80% live on less than a US dollar a day.The Narc promised to set up a ‘truth andreconciliation commission’ to look intocrimes and abuses committed since inde-pendence, but is now dragging its feet.

Njuguma Mutahi, a Kikuyu, is not sur-prised: ‘How could it be any other way?Many members of this government aswell as previous governments are orwere involved with the militias. Theymight be OK with reconciliation, but theyare frightened of justice.’ He finds it hardto maintain an objective position onMungiki. Though its members may havecommitted acts of violence, ‘they havenever had a chance to explain them-selves. We can argue with their methods,but the things they have fought for arestill of great importance. And frustrationis growing with each generation. Everyday the young become more radical andmore violent. The person who succeedsin putting forward a programme basedon these issues will have not onlyMungiki’s support, but that of all ourcountry’s disenfranchised youth.’

In Mathare Valley, one of Nairobi’slargest and most notorious shantytowns,there has been a severe governmentclampdown on Mungiki activity. Hun-dreds of presumed members were ar-rested there in 2004, clogging up thedetention centres. The police are evenencouraged to shoot on sight. Yet on anordinary day you cannot get into Matharewithout Mungiki’s permission. This evengoes for police officers, according to the

five I met in one of the made-for-guerrillas alleyways.

‘We Are Reinventing Ourselves’

We were led around Mathare by a groupof Mungiki members. Their leader claimsto have 1,600 local affiliates. ‘Sometimeswe lend a hand to landlords for apercentage of their rent; we also clean upthe rubbish and then go round collectingcash: 15 shillings a week per member.We reinvest the money.’ He says hisgroup is not violent, but ‘we defendourselves. Why should we turn the othercheek?’ ‘If I didn’t have Mungiki, I’d be astreet child,’ says a youngster. ‘I don’tbelieve in politics. We will never bemanipulated again. We are reinventingourselves.’

Ezekiel Waruinge was Mungiki’s na-tional co-ordinator until recently, butthen he experienced ‘divine revelation’and joined the Neno Evangelical church,where he is now a prominent figure. Heplans to pursue the same goals as he hadwith Mungiki with the youngsters whohave followed him here,’but throughChristianity, not Kikuyu tradition’. Dur-ing the election period, Waruinge hadties with a number of high-rankingKikuyu politicians, including the notori-ous current interior minister, ChrisMunrungaru, who is suspected of affilia-tions with the Mount Kenya mafia. ‘Ihelped him get elected, and then he justdid like they all do as soon as they are inoffice: he turned into a wild animal. Heturned against us. But the Lord will behis judge.’

Many Mungiki members hold Waruingeresponsible for compromising the move-ment through involvement with shadypoliticians, and call him a traitor. Butthough he is truly ‘born again’, he doesnot regret his association with Mungiki.He still prefers his old African name,Ndura, to Ezekiel and wants to fightagainst ‘the American evangelicalchurches’ demonisation of our tradition’.

‘Yes, we supported the Kanu candidate,Uhuru Kenyatta,’ he admits, ‘but thereason we supported him is that he isyoung.’ Kenyatta has since denied allassociation with Mungiki, but he is notfooling anyone. ‘Kikuyu history is a longseries of betrayals,’ says NdumgiGotukhu of the Mulika association, whichfilms and records the stories of peoplepersecuted under previous Kenyan gov-ernments. ‘They fought for their landsand ended up with nothing. The politi-cians made similar promises to Mungiki,but the dream never materialised. Butnow the movement is reorganising, andthe Mau Mau influence is even strongerin this third generation.’

Nairobi is the headquarters of the UnitedNations human settlements programme(UN-Habitat). It is also home to Kibera,sub-Saharan Africa’s largest slum, wherealmost 700,000 people live in corrugatediron shacks. On 4 October 2004, WorldHabitat Day, the Kibaki government andUN-Habitat launched the Kenya slumupgrading programme, a plan to re-house the slum-dwellers in blocks offlats with water and sanitation. AnnaKajumulo Tibaijuka, executive directorof UN-Habitat, sees this project as a firststep towards ‘improving poor Kenyans’quality of life and employment pros-pects, as well as combating crime, espe-cially among the young’.

But it needs to go further, says JumaAssiago of UN-Habitat’s safer cities pro-gramme: ‘We need to promote real socialinclusion, rather than a violent scrambleto the top. Young people in Nairobi havedeveloped a whole parallel society, andthey are governed by their own values.The vigilante groups are one expressionof this. But rather than stigmatising ouryoung people as criminals, why notmove towards recognising some of thevalues championed by this counter-cul-ture, and formalise its relations withinstitutions like the police?’ But wouldthe state be prepared to recognise the

legitimacy of a movement that is againstthe state? ‘Indeed. What we are talkingabout is the wholesale renewal of howthis country is governed.’

The alarming Mungiki phenomenon ispart of the erosion of political legitimacyand physical security in Nairobi, whichcontinues to worsen as its populationgrows by 5% a year. Mungiki’s nextmoves will decide what becomes of thesociological time bombs of the shanty-towns. It will also determine the future ofthe Rift Valley, where ethnic resentmentover land rights is threatening to boilover (see box oppposite). Could Mungikibe the new Mau Mau? Wangari Maathaidoes not doubt it: ‘If the oppressioncontinues, if we keep on killing ourbrothers, there will be civil war in thiscountry.’

Jean-Christophe Servant, e-mail: [email protected]. Translated from theFrench by Gulliver Cragg for Le MondeDiplomatique; see also by Jean-ChristopheServant: ‘Landless in the Rift Valley’,‘Mau Mau’; www. mondediplo.com orwww.monde-diplomatique.fr

Endnotes

1. ‘Crime in Nairobi, Results of a citywide victimsurvey’, UNDP/UN Habitat, September 2002(www.unhabitat.org/safercities). Questioned in2001, 28.5% of Nairobi’s inhabitants said theyhad been burgled in the previous two weeks,98% believed the police to be corrupt, and 33%said that supplementary measures such as theorganisation of vigilante groups were necessaryto defend against crime.

2. Edwin A Gimode, ‘An anatomy of violentcrime and insecurity in Kenya: the case ofNairobi’, in Africa Development, Dakar, 2001.

3. Paul Harris, ‘Mau Mau returns to Kenya’,Sydney Morning Herald, Sydney, 17 January 2000.

4. With 22% of the population, the Kikuyus arethe largest single ethnic group in Kenya, followedby the Luhyas (14%), the Luos (13%) and theKalenjins (12%). Both Uhuru Kenyatta, thecurrent leader of the opposition Kanu party,and President Mwai Kibaki are Kikuyus.

Briefing: Kikuyus Muscle in on Security & Politics 525


5. See ‘Vigilantes, Violence and the Politics ofPublic Order in Kenya’, African Affairs, Oxford,October 2002.

6. During the Mau Mau rebellion in the 1950s theKikuyus fought against the British colonialregime: 13,000 were killed and more than 100,000displaced.

7. ‘Physiologie d’un massacre: la tuerie du 3mars 2002, Kariobangi North’, in L’Afriqueorientale, annuaire 2002, L’Harmattan, Paris,2003.

8. An NGO, founded in 1996, that gathersvictims’ accounts and other evidence concerningtorture and political violence committed underprevious Kenyan administrations.

9. Marie-Ange Goux: ‘Guerre des loyers dans lesbidonvilles de Nairobi’, Politique africaine, Paris,n° 91, October 2003.

10. Tricia Hoo, ‘Kenya: the challenge of change’,Export Development Canada, Ottawa, June2004.

11. According to Africa Confidential (London),the Mount Kenya mafia is a grouping of severalformer pro-democracy campaigners who ‘swiftlyswapped the ideals of opposition for the spoilsof power’ .

Mungiki, ‘Neo-Mau Mau’& the Prospects forDemocracy in Kenya

Awinda Atieno

Political insecurity in Kenya has recentlyfocused attention on the emergence of theMungiki movement. Depicted in the Kenyanmedia as a thuggish, criminal organisationset on disrupting the already insecure cli-mate in Nairobi and its outskirts, a spate ofMungiki-attributed activity (numerousbeheadings of Mungiki opponents, racketeer-ing, vigilantism, extortion of matatu (taxi)businesses, forcible circumcision of women)has for obvious reasons been condemned inthe press as unnecessarily brutal and savage.

The media portrayal of Mungiki echoesthe moral panic and folk-devilling of theMau Mau land, freedom and independ-ence movement by the British press inKenya and Britain during the Emergencyin the 1950s. This is not to say thatMungiki are not responsible for some ofthe tragic events that have occurred inrecent months, but rather to point outthat the picture is far more complex thanthat propagated by the media and Ken-yan government. In particular it is nota-ble that Mungiki view themselves as thesuccessors of Mau Mau. A multitude ofquestions remain unanswered surround-ing Mungiki and the implications oftheir involvement in the political anddemocratic landscape of Kenya leadingup to the general election in Kenyaprovisionally scheduled for November/December 2007. An article by Jean-Christophe Servant (2005), reprinted inthis issue of ROAPE, provides an excel-lent grounding in the roots and organi-sational structure of Mungiki. Here Ireflect on a closer view, deriving fromfieldwork carried out amongst youthactivists in Nairobi from 2004 to thepresent (see also Katumanga, 2005)

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A recent brutal crackdown by police onMungiki in Nairobi has triggered anoutcry from Kenya and beyond – frompoliticians, concerned citizens, NGOsand the international press. In a swoopaimed at recovering police guns said tohave been stolen by Mungiki, extremeheavy-handed policing culminated inthe killing of more than thirty innocentresidents of the Mathare slum in Nairobi(Amnesty International Public Statement,June 2007). According to Amnesty thisattack was precipitated by John Michuki,Minister of Internal Security in Kenya,allegedly declaring all Mungiki personanon grata. Michuki reportedly stated that:

We will straighten them and wipe themout. I cannot tell you today where thosewho have been arrested in connectionwith the recent killings are. What you willbe hearing is that there will be burialtomorrow. If you use a gun to kill you arealso required to be executed (AmnestyInternational, 2007).

It should be noted that Michuki was amember of the loyalist Home Guardduring British colonial rule before, dur-ing and after the Mau Mau Emergency of1952 (The Kenya Socialist, 2006; see Elkins,2005 for a detailed account of the se-quence of events during this period).There has been widespread speculationas to whether his recent condemnation ofMungiki is a legitimate attack on a rogue‘terrorist’ organisation or whether hesees history repeating itself because ofhis past as a Home Guard fighting MauMau, with Mungiki as its current mani-festation.

One interviewee living in a Nairobi slumsettlement in the east of the city describedthe climate of fear and tension in his‘estate’:

there is so much happening with all thispolitical heat in the air. … Michuki hasalready started a war up here. There isloads bullshit (sic) going on in Kenya …the police have already started harassing

us youths here … we fear for our livesafter Mathare (interview conducted2007).

The June 2007 Amnesty Statement on theMathare massacre and Michuki’s com-plicity in this matter concludes:

Amnesty International is further con-cerned that such remarks would appear toendorse the extrajudicial execution ofcriminal suspects, contrary to Kenya’sobligations under international law. Am-nesty International calls on the Kenyanauthorities to establish an inquiry into thepolice killings of 5 and 7 June, in compli-ance with international standards whichrequire thorough, prompt and impartialinvestigation of all suspected cases ofextrajudicial executions. The inquiryshould be carried out by a body which isindependent of those allegedly responsibleand has the necessary powers and re-sources. Its findings should be madepublic. Anyone identified by the inquiryas having been responsible for extrajudi-cial executions should be brought tojustice in a trial which complies withinternational fair trial standards. Thefamilies and dependents of those killedshall be entitled to fair and adequatecompensation within a reasonable periodof time.

Whether Amnesty International’s rec-ommendations are taken on board by theKenyan government remains to be seen.The Kibaki administration’s usual re-sponse to international criticism such asAmnesty’s is to set up an investigation(such as the Goldenburg Commission ofInquiry on corruption) and then let ittaper slowly off without coming to anyconcrete conclusion or resolution. Cyn-ics argue that this is a ploy to deflectattention from the government and en-sure that donor funds keep on comingand the human rights and democracyboxes are ticked.

The Kibaki premiership’s response toexamples of corrupt governance and

Briefings: Mungiki, ‘Neo-Mau Mau’ & the Prospects for Democracy in Kenya 527


political scandal has been disappoint-ing to those who expected a change.Amongst numerous examples are theAnglo Leasing affair (commonly referredto by Kenyans as ‘Anglo Fleecing’),Kamlesh Pattni’s very premature releasefrom prison following the GoldenburgInquiry, John Githongo’s dossier expos-ing gross state corruption and his subse-quent self exile, Dr. Margaret Gachara’sdazzlingly gross embezzlement of Na-tional AIDS Control Council funds, anattack on the offices of the Standardnewspaper, and numerous incidents ofharassment and intimidation of activistswho dare speak out or act against thepolitical establishment, such as Ngugiwa Thiongo and his wife Njeeri, and thetragedy of David Munyakei’s last years.

How does all this affect the averageKenyan citizen? And how does it relateto Mungiki and the prospects for democ-racy in Kenya? The next section attemptsto go some way in addressing thesequestions, using excerpts from hip-hoppoetry that is recited there by youth as aform of entertainment, and quotes frominterviews with residents of a slumsettlement in the east of Nairobi.

Mungiki, ‘Neo-Mau Mau’ &Dispossessed Youth in Nairobi

In conducting research on gendered re-sponses to youth unemployment in thisshanty neighbourhood, I observed athriving arts scene expressing high lev-els of awareness of the gap between richand poor, as well as indescribable im-poverishment. Residents of the estateand in particular those aged betweenthirteen and 35 had adopted a ‘neo-MauMau’ philosophy to describe, cope withand come up with solutions to theirdesperate situation as the lowest eco-nomic class in Nairobi. This came outstrongest in Sheng hip-hop poetry. Shengis a Swahili-English, hybrid and ever-evolving patois used by Nairobi youths.

The following are a selection of quotesillustrative of prevalent views in thesettlement. Whilst not necessarily repre-sentative of the general population, theydo exemplify the kinds of politicisedviews which are vocalised by youththrough hip-hop. They express the angerand alliances of support which suchyouth maintain. I have chosen to use thephrase ‘neo Mau-Mau’ to describe theadoption and adaptation of Mau Mauphilosophy exemplified here. Howeverthese were not Mungiki members andthey had created no formalised groupingor political organisation.

The young people in that part of the‘estate’ had simply got together anddone what young people do everywhere:danced, sang, talked, gossiped, smoked‘weed’ and flirted. Out of this headyatmosphere in conditions of hardshiphas come a new permutation of MauMau ideology through poetry which hasbecome hugely popular and fashionable.

Sadly, these young people are beingpunished (arrested and persecuted) fortheir use of Mau Mau vocabulary, be-cause it is being mistaken for directassociation with Mungiki. There aresome Mungiki elements in the ‘estate’,though nowhere near the levels reportedby the press. I observed only one incidentthat could definitely be identified asMungiki: a young man came to visit hiscousin and people whispered that therewas a Mungiki in their midst. The fearfrom the older people in the estate wasthat the government-sponsored persecu-tion of the ‘neo-Mau Mau’ youngsters,coupled with an extremely high lack ofemployment opportunities, would leadto a fertile breeding ground for convertsto the extremism of Mungiki.

The musicians were female and maleresidents of Dandora who had set up ayouth collective that used music, theatre,arts, dance, football and gymnastics as away of filling up the time left vacant by awidespread lack of employment in the

formal sector and resulting scarcity ofsocio-economic resources.

On using hip-hop poetry and the arts asa form of didactic resistance and cop-ing:

Nawanasema hizi mapoetry readingshazifaidi mutu? (And they are sayingthat these poetry readings don’t doanything for anyone?)

This refers to the government turningdown an application for funding fromthe youth collective for a ‘poetry day’event in their ‘estate’.

Tunafunza bila panga (We teach peoplewithout machetes).

This comment came from a young manwho believed that the poetry sessionstaught the youths about important is-sues that were not covered on the govern-ment school curriculum; for example,decisions about sexuality, anti-tribalismand gaps in Kenyan history that areglossed over in the curriculum like theMau Mau and the oppression of theKikuyu in Nairobi.

On the situation of the oppressed poor:

Hivi imepeta rangi ya ngozi, na kabilaunajua ni mbili tu: maskini na mdosi (Ithas happened that things have gonebeyond the colour of one’s skin, youknow now there are only two kinds ofpeople: the poor and those who canemploy the poor).

… kaploti hana, serekali wanatakakuwafukuza Nairobi (… the ones thatdon’t have houses or a plot of land, thegovernment wants to kick them outof Nairobi).

The youths saw themselves as perse-cuted by police shoot-to-kill policingmethods and viewed this as a govern-ment ploy to run them out of Nairobi

because they are poor, landless ‘trouble-makers’.

Ni machozi yako ni ya nani vunja moyo,umeona sasa dunia imekutupa. Usikatetamaa … angalia saa, wewe ni shujaa(Those tears of yours whom are theyfor? They break the heart, you areseeing that the world has thrown youaway. Please don’t give up hope, lookat these times, you are the real hero).

The youths didn’t believe that Kenyatta,Moi and Kibaki were the heroes ofKenya. They see themselves as the trueheroes.

Civil society imepoteza social justice. (Civilsociety has lost any elements of socialjustice).

Economy ikona leakage … ecology inadecline … na ugonjwa ya syphilis …(There is a leakage in the economy …the environment is in decline … andthe illnesses of syphilis [appear]…).

The youths saw Kenya as having toomany problems that the governmentseemed unwilling to deal with properlyon the ‘estate’ and beyond (e.g. lack ofemployment, government brutality, AIDSetc).

… ka Kenya ni Matrix na mimi ndio Neo(It’s as if Kenya is the Matrix and I amNeo).

The youth identified with the fictionalheroic (world-saving) character Neo inthe film ‘The Matrix’ which they hadwatched in a ‘video café’ in the ‘estate’.Neo’s struggle in the movie has becomepart of the language of these youngKenyans. They often say this when some-thing goes awry in the ‘estate’ particu-larly if it seems like the government haslet them down again.

On Mau Mau and the Kibaki, Moi andKenyatta regimes:

Briefings: Mungiki, ‘Neo-Mau Mau’ & the Prospects for Democracy in Kenya 529


Jasho, machozi, Mau Mau walipiganiauhuru maspectators wakaenda na trophy(Sweat and tears, the Mau Mau foughtfor liberation then the spectators wentwith the trophy).

The ‘spectators’ are Kenyatta, his politi-cal elite and the British who benefitedfrom Kenya economically and are viewedas still benefiting.

ka Kimathi akukua the one and thensociety got drunk na opium, inasemekanakama na Karl Marx (It is as if Kimathiwasn’t the one and then society gotdrunk on opium like Karl Marx said).

Dedan Kimathi is viewed as the trueliberator of Kenya by the youths. He wasa well-known Mau Mau freedom fighterwho was executed by the British duringthe Emergency. He is rumoured to havebeen executed with Kenyatta’s approval(see Elkins, 2005 for background to this).

mayai yakuoza kama Kenyatta. (… eggsthat have gone bad in the same wayKenyatta did).

On the insecurity in Nairobi, rape andpowerlessness:

Njeeri bibi ya Ngugi wa Thiongo ukoostrong sana too sana … writer mfamousaliyibiwa na wife yake akarapiwa ndio hioasante aka patiwa kuwatolewa maideasyakuwasaida kubadilisha city (Njeeri, wifeof Ngugi wa Thiongo, you are strong,so strong, too strong … a famouswriter was robbed and his wife rapedand that’s the thanks he got forimparting ideas to help people changethe city of Nairobi for the better).

Na pay tax to be harassed daily (I pay taxto be harassed every day).

Mothers can’t even protect their babies,wanaume hawezi protect their ladies ...vita za bundiki tangu era za nyayo(Mothers can’t protect their babiesand men can’t protect their women

…wars with guns here since the daysof the Moi regime).

Locating Mungiki and ‘neo-Mau Mau’in the global context:

Paul Rogers (2007, personal discussion)commented on the Mungiki phenom-enon, asserting that these kinds of groupsare increasingly becoming a feature ofthe globalised market which fosters‘growth without emancipation’. He be-lieves that the contemporary era is char-acterised by a widening gulf between therichest and the poorest, with a huge gapwhere a middle class (classes) tended toemerge in less aggressively globaliseddecades. Moreover, according to Rogers,the majority on the margins are morelikely to have some education, with atleast four years of primary school educa-tion on average in countries in the South,thus changing the aspirations and edu-cational sophistication of the lowesteconomic classes worldwide. In his bookLosing Control: Global Security in theTwenty-first Century, he writes: ‘… thecombination of a widening rich-poorgap with an increasingly knowledgeablepoor, is leading to a revolution of unful-filled expectations’. He gives the SenderoLuminoso of Peru and Hamas as exam-ples of this.

Applying Rogers’s thesis to Mungiki inKenya we could note that the economy isthriving but there is no trickle-downeffect. The mass of Kenyans have been letdown by every regime since independ-ence, though educational opportunitieshave also increased with each passingdecade. In a situation of ‘unfulfilledexpectations’, Mungiki represents itselfas the revolutionary element. The pros-pects of democracy for Kenya remain tobe seen. Unless Mungiki are brought tothe negotiating table to at least explaintheir objectives, things look set to getworse. As one alarmed interviewee froma Mungiki-populated area told me:

Nairobi may fall. We hear Mugiki arestoring bundikis [guns] bought from theSomalis. We hear they want to kill the richin Lavington, Karen and Westlands [af-fluent Nairobi suburbs]. The young menin Mungiki are angry (2007).

For the sake of Kenya, let us hopeMungiki is just a passing symptom ofelection fever and not a warning shot ofanything more brutal to come.

Awinda Atieno, c/o of [email protected]

Bibliography

Amnesty International Public Statement(2007), ‘Kenya: Police operations againstMungiki must comply with Kenya’s obligationsunder international human rights law’, AmnestyInternational.

Atieno, Awinda (2007), Fieldwork Diaries,unpublished.

Elkins, Caroline (2005), Britain’s Gulag: TheBrutal End of Empire in Kenya, London: Pimlico.

Katumanga, Musambayi (2005), ‘A city undersiege: banditry and modes of accumulation inNairobi, 1991-2004, Review of African PoliticalEconomy 106, Dec 2005.

Rogers, Paul (2002, 2nd edition), Losing Control:Global Security in the Twenty-first Century, London:Pluto Press.

Servant, Jean-Christophe (2005), ‘Kikuyusmuscle in on security and politics:Kenya’s righteous youth militia’, Le MondeDiplomatique (English edition), January 2005,translated by Gulliver Cragg (reproduced in thisissue of ROAPE).

Uncredited (13 June 2006),‘What is Narc-Kenyaand who is behind it?’ , Kenya Socialist Website,http://kenyasocialist.org/kswsfiles/2006/what_is_narc_kenya.htm

Profiles of Courage:Ramogi Achieng’ OnekoPeter Anyang’ Nyong’o

When he passed away on 9 June 2007 at hislakeside home in Kunya village in Rarieda inNyanza Province, Kenyans mourned him asthe last of the Kapenguria Six. The little townof Kepenguria gained notoriety in Kenya’sstruggle for independence when it became thescene for the trial of Jommo Kenyatta,Achieng’ Oneko, Paul Ngei, Kungu Karumba,Bildad Kaggia and Fred Kubai (theKapenguria Six).

In what was essentially a kangaroocourt, the six were found guilty of havingbeen involved in organising the MauMau rebellion against the colonial orderand were put into detention followingtheir arrest on 20 October 1952. Thisdate, celebrated since independence asKenyatta Day, should appropriately becelebrated as the National Heroes Day,or, more specifically, as the day of theKapenguria Six. Jommo Kenyatta neveraccepted, either at the trial or later on inlife, that he was involved in the MauMau. What he conceded to and had noapology for was that he had alwayschampioned the freedom of the Africanpeople from colonial oppression, and inthis he had freely associated with otherKapenguria colleagues in organising thefirst nationalist political party in Kenya,the Kenya African Union (KAU).Kenyatta’s association with Oneko cantherefore be rightly traced to their workin KAU in which Oneko featured as aprolific ideologue, political organiser andsuperb tactician.

Born in 1920 to peasant farmers and laterchristened as Richard, Oneko attendedMaseno missionary school and wastaught by the legendary Carey Francisand the fiery Kenyan nationalist,Jaramogi Oginga Odinga. He was a goodathlete who always excelled in the shortdistance races. He was eloquent in speech

Briefings: Profiles of Courage: Ramogi Achieng’ Oneko 531


and attracted friends and admirers withease. His elegant gait and love for smartdressing earned him the nicknameNyakech which means ‘antelope’, ananimal the Luo people admire for itsgracefulness and charm.

My father, the late Canon Hezbon ShimeiNyong’o, was only two years older thanhim when they attended Maseno schooltogether and lived in the same dormitory.This generation of Luo intelligentsia, ledby Jaramogi and Oneko, founded the LuoThrift and Trading Corporation(LUTATCO) as a cooperative and busi-ness entity to pool resources together forbusiness ventures and trading. Theybuilt office blocks in Kisumu, establisheda supermarket in Maseno (MasenoStores), ran posh mills in various marketplaces in Nyanza, built houses and realestates under the direction of Mzee Ong’erand published newspapers which Onekoedited – Ramogi and Nyanza Times. It wasaround this time that Oneko dropped hisname Richard and took Ramogi; theinitial ‘R’ remained the same.

A few months before he was arrestedwith Kenyatta for involvement in KAUactivities – and hence Mau Mau – Onekointroduced Kenyatta to Jaramogi whilethe latter was on a visit to Kisumu. Oncethe two were detained, Odinga took itupon himself to continue the struggle forKenya’s freedom and to demand for theirrelease.

The first election of African members tothe Legislative Council in 1957 wastherefore held with the Kapenguria Sixstill under detention although the MauMau as a rebellion had virtually beendefeated. Jaramogi, however, rallied Af-rican nationalists, and African Membersof the Legislative Council – organised asthe African Elected Members Organiza-tion (AEMO) – to champion the release ofthe detainees as a priority in the agendafor independence. In this, Jaramogi wasably supported by Thomas Joseph Mboyaand C.M.G.

Argwings-Kodhek, who had also actedas the lawyer of many of the Mau Maudetainees and their families. WhenOneko was finally released together withKenyatta in 1961, he was already morethan a household name in the Kenyanpolitical landscape. He immediately as-sumed his responsibilities as Kenyatta’sprivate secretary planning the logisticsof the nationalist campaigns and run-ning in the inside lane when Kenyattatook over the leadership of the KenyaAfrican National Union (KANU) thatyear. In the so-called Kenyatta Election of1963, Oneko captured the Nakuru Townseat on a KANU ticket, trouncing hisnearest rival by thousands of votes.When Kenya gained independence on12 December 1963, Achieng’ Oneko wasin Kenyatta’s first cabinet of some pow-erful eighteen ministers. He was ministerfor Information, Broadcasting, Wild lifeand Tourism. Oneko performed his du-ties with alacrity and commitment tonational goals. He initiated, nurturedand established the Kenya News Agency(KNA) which has remained the backbone for news gathering in governmentto date. Many of the people trainedthrough the KNA went ahead to join theprivate sector media houses and to buildthem to what they are today.

Post-independence politics led to differ-ences between Oneko and Kenyatta thatsomehow became irreconcilable. Onekostrongly believed in championing theinterests of the poor, particularly withregard to access to land. Like his politicalcomrades Jaramogi Oginga and BildadKaggia, he was an uncompromisingFabian Socialist who could not put histotal faith in the market as the ‘delivererof development to the common man’. Atthat point in time African socialism aswas expounded by Nyerere in ‘Ujamaa:The Basis of African Socialism’ was invogue. Oginga Odinga and Achieng’Oneko were perhaps the strongestNyerereist on the north-western side ofthe Kilimanjaro.

Kenyatta’s Vice President Odinga hadtoo strong of a popular base to be ignoredby KANU. Combined with Mboya’s sup-port in the trade union movement andthe growing middle class, Kenyatta andhis ethnic associates found themselvesout of depth in controlling KANU. Thefirst scheme in 1965-66 was to mar-ginalise Odinga with Mboya’s help. Thissucceeded at the famous Limuru Confer-ence in 1966 which saw Odinga, Onekoand other left-wingers move out of KANUto form the Kenya People’s Union (KPU)whose manifesto, ‘The Wananchi Decla-ration’ was written as an alternative toMboya’s ‘African Socialism and its Ap-plication to Planning in Kenya.’

Achieng’ Oneko’s resignation speechfrom Kenyatta’s government remains tothis day a solid example of words ofintegrity, well thought out and suc-cinctly summarising the crisis of moralauthority that African nationalists facedat that point in time with regard to theaspirations of the masses. Oneko statedthat he was painfully leaving a govern-ment he had helped to put together, butone he had to leave because of itsdeparture from the principles that weresupposed to be its foundation. He couldno longer justify to himself why he flew aflag as a minister, symbolising the inde-pendence of Kenyan Africans, while hehimself was still literally in chains.

The years in the KPU were both excitingas well as frustrating. Exciting in thesense that the majority of the peoplesupported the ideas expressed by theKPU leadership. Frustrating because theKenyatta government made it difficultfor the KPU to operate as the authoritar-ian state grew vicious by the day. I joinedthe KPU Youth League while in highschool in 1966.

Poised to win the Local Governmentelections in 1968, Tom Mboya manipu-lated the process thereby disqualifyingall KPU candidates except Mrs GraceOnyango in Kisumu. Soon after that the

political entourage behind Kenyatta be-gan plotting to get rid of Mboya. Achieng’Oneko became the intermediary betweenTom Mboya and Jaramogi OgingaOdinga. Given the plot against Mboya itbecame necessary for the two to cometogether. Both Mwalimu Julius Nyerere ofTanzania and Milton Obote of Ugandafelt this rapprochement was vital, andseveral messages were exchangedthrough intermediaries to speed up thisprocess soon after the sudden death ofKenya’s Foreign Affairs Minister in early1969. I was at that point in time a studentat Makerere University in Kampala, anda student leader on the campus. I wasalso active in KPU politics and got toknow the goings on in the party.

When the news of Mboya’s assassina-tion on that fateful Saturday morning of5 July 1969, it is said that he almostfainted. The history of Kenya was neverto be the same again; generations ofKenyans have been adversely affected bythat event. It is quite possible that Kenyawould have followed in the footsteps ofSingapore had that bullet not been firedat one o’clock on Government Road thatday. By the end of that year, Kenyattahad proscribed the Kenya People’s Un-ion, detained all its leaders and turnedKenya into a one-party state. The BritishGovernment, styling itself as the flagbearers of democracy; the US govern-ment, never reluctant to proclaim itssupport for freedom everywhere did notsay anything against Kenyatta. Onekoended up spending another six years indetention under a government he hadfought to establish by spending eightyears in detention under the colonialists.

Ramogi Achieng’ Oneko was releasedfrom detention in 1976 when I was aboutto finish my graduate school work at theUniversity of Chicago. When I came backto Nairobi in 1977 to teach at the Univer-sity of Nairobi, I visited him at hismodest house in Woodley Estate and wehad some porridge together. He was aslively and as cheerful as ever. He had no

Briefings: Profiles of Courage: Ramogi Achieng’ Oneko 533


trace of bitterness in him. He laughedmirthfully; we immediately started plot-ting on how we could still play an activerole in Kenyan politics.

Some after that we put together a groupof academics with his son Ongong’a todiscuss this matter further at the Woodleyresidence one Saturday afternoon. Thequestion was: in the likely event thatKenyatta passes away, what would bethe best alliance the pro-Odinga forcesshould make so as to be in governmentunder KANU? We came out with severalscenarios but agreed that all had to bekept secret else the secret police wouldmake mince meat of us before we putanything in practice. Unfortunately onebig mouth left the place to boast immedi-ately in a public bar how Oneko hadbeen consulting him on some politicalproject. We buried the scheme before itwas even born!

With Kenyatta’s death in August 1978and the ensuing politics under Moi andNjonjo, Oneko became very cautious.Some time in 1980 Hezekiah Ougo re-signed his Bondo seat so that Jaramogiwould take it over. This was with theunderstanding that Jaramogi would teamup with Moi so as to help give somepolitical counter weight to the Kikuyubourgeoisie. We were at that point intime also raising funds for the buildingof the Ramogi Institute for AdvancedTechnology (RIAT). Oneko was the chair-man of the Nairobi committee.

I noticed one Friday morning that theWeekly Review had carried a rather un-flattering article abound Odinga, andwarned Oneko that we should shieldOdinga from journalists that weekend.Odinga was due to be travelling toMombasa that evening and I pleadedwith Oneko to accompany him so thatOneko would ensure that his publicutterances and interactions did not fallinto the trap I saw being laid by theWeekly Review. Oneko declined arguingthat Moi’s system was more preoccupied

with the ‘Muthemba Trial’ than whatwas going on in our camp. Muthemba, aclose associate of Charles Njonjo, hadthen been accused of plotting to over-throw Moi’s government.

Odinga’s journey to the Coast provedfatal. In a public address he accusedKenyatta of having been a land grabberand promised the Coast people that hewould join Moi’s government to help thepresident fight this vice. The next day theforces in this government, including Moihimself, denounced Jaramogi. The Bondoseat disappeared from both Ougo andOdinga; the land grabbers had joinedranks; forgot about Nuthemba and oncemore threw Oneko and Odinga into thepolitical limbo. When I met Oneko in thewake of these events, all he could tell mewas A Luta Continua!

In 1989 we started plotting seriously torestore democracy to Kenya. Followingthe collapse of the Berlin Wall we felt theglobal scene was changing fast and verysoon we would have more friends tosupport our stand within and outsideKenya. Bishop Henry Okullu and I startedworking within the Church. We commu-nicated with Jaramogi as well. Very soonwe brought in Oneko, then Luke Obokand Munyua Waiyaki. Okullu intro-duced me to Paul Mwite, and I intro-duced Mwite to my friend Joe Ager. Wedecided to form a team to start workingon an opposition political party whichwe eventually called The National Demo-cratic Party (NDP), the forerunner of theForum for the Restoration of Democracy.

I noticed during our struggle to organisethe NDP that Oneko was no longer asfiery as he used to be. He was becomingmore cautious, more circumspect in do-ing things. This was quite understand-able. For a man who had spent 14 yearsin detention a time comes when youwant to say that life needs to be lived a bitat a time, and that those who come afterus must also continue with the struggle:A Luta Continua. With the passing on of

Oneko (Nyakech, Mbalawandu) a gen-eration of profiles in courage in Kenyanpolitics is gone. The only unfortunatething is that Oneko did not live longenough to witness the final transition todemocracy in Kenya. This, I dare say, is alegacy we have to pass on to Oneko’sfamily as a cherished memory of onewho fought wisely and enduringly thatwe may be free from colonial oppressionas well as post-colonial authoritarian-ism.

Peter Anyang’ Nyong’o, e-mail:[email protected]. See also Anyang’Nyongo’s’ articles in ROAPE: SpecialIssue on Kenya, 1981 (No. 20) and in July1992 (No. 54).

DARFUR: STOP!Confrontational Rhetoric

Julie Fint

The one bright light in the dismal inter-national response to the slaughter andstarvation in Sudan’s Darfur region hasbeen a humanitarian effort that has keptmore than two million displaced peoplealive. In the fifth year of the war, mortal-ity levels among Darfurians reached byrelief are marginally better than theywere before the war – and lower, remark-ably, than in the suburbs of the capital,Khartoum. In South Sudan, where apeace agreement signed in January 2005officially ended a 21-year civil war,children have worse life chances: higherdeath rates and lower school enrolment.

This is a formidable achievement, betterthan achieved in any other comparablewar zone in Africa. Credit is due to thelikes of Oxfam, Mercy Corps andMedecins Sans Frontieres, and their

13,000-strong army of relief workers –90% of them Sudanese.

All this would be lost if US Democraticpresidential candidates got their wishand a no-fly zone were militarily en-forced over Darfur in an attempt topressure the Sudan government intoallowing the immediate deployment of ajoint United Nations-African Unionpeacekeeping force. ‘If they fly into it, wewill shoot down their planes,’ SenatorHillary Rodham Clinton said recently. ‘Itis the only way to get their attention.’

That it most certainly would. But whatthen?

Aid agencies operational in Darfur arequietly but unanimously appalled by theprospect of a no-fly zone. They believeKhartoum would respond by groundinghumanitarian aircraft and, in a worst-case scenario, by forcing all aid agenciesto leave, with no possibility of return.They warn, too, that, there is a highprobability that humanitarian assetswould be hit if government assets atairports were hit, since the two share thesame locations and warehousing sites.Without humanitarian air access,Darfurians would soon suffer massivehealth and food crises. The quickest andsafest evacuation routes for humanitar-ians would be cut. In the event of height-ened military activity on the ground,Darfurians would either be trapped orcaught in the crossfire. The people ofKosovo and Bosnia had easier access tohost countries. Darfur is vast and dry. Itspeople would not be able to flee to safetyeasily.

We do not support the military enforce-ment of a no-fly zone over Darfur,’ a reliefplanner told ROAPE. ‘We are skeptical ofits effectiveness to stop the main source ofinsecurity for civilians: attacks on theground by proxy militias, between rivalgroups and between parties to the conflict.We also do not support non-consensualmilitary intervention. We believe both

Briefings: DARFUR: STOP! Confrontational Rhetoric 535


measures could do more harm than good,because of the expected retaliation againstcivilians and aid workers and end to aidoperations.

Today, as Khartoum’s proxy Janjaweedmilitias turn against each other, rebelmovements fragment and banditry spi-rals out of control, millions of Darfurianswho depend on humanitarian assist-ance can be reached only by air. UN andAU traffic accounts for nine of every tenplanes flying in Darfur, and some agen-cies deliver as much as 90% of theirsupplies using aircraft. The collapse ofthe humanitarian apparatus would be adeath sentence for Darfurians – espe-cially those who are receiving food, cleanwater and shelter in the camps for thedisplaced in government-controlled ar-eas.

A major concern is that aircraft belong-ing to the Sudan government would bedifficult to distinguish from humanitar-ian aircraft, making it hazardous to fly.The United Nations and African UnionMission in Sudan (AMIS) have bothpublicly have reported that the SudaneseAir Force has intentionally made itsaircraft look like humanitarian and AUaircraft in order to hinder monitoring ofthe ceasefire. Humanitarian workers areconcerned that deceptions like this couldescalate if a no-fly zone were militaryimposed, perhaps with disguised mili-tary planes taking off at the same time ashumanitarian flights.

‘My first concern is how to implementthe no-fly zone without hindering hu-manitarian air flights,’ says a relief offi-cial with long experience of Sudan. ‘TheHumanitarian Air Service of the WorldFood Programme alone operates 16 air-craft doing 30 rotations a day betweenKhartoum and Darfur and within Darfur.One can fear that distinguishing be-tween military flights, humanitarianflights and commercial flights would bevery difficult. This might imply a pre-flight clearance system with the military

authority in charge of enforcing the no-fly zone, a system which could hinderthe flexibility of the humanitarian airservice. This without considering thefact that enforcing a no-fly zone meansbasically shooting at planes withoutclearances – an act of war which mighttrigger retaliations by the Sudanese armyagainst humanitarian workers on theground …

The cost might be politically acceptable ifaerial bombardments were responsible fora large number of deaths. But while airbombing has a major psychological impactin distilling fear and terror among thepopulation, the number of people beingkilled by aerial bombardment in Sudan islimited.

In April 2003, addressing an open-airrally in el Fasher, the capital of NorthDarfur state, President Omar Bashirpromised to ‘unleash’ the army to crushthe rebellion launched a few monthsearlier by Darfur’s two newly-emergedrebel movements - the Sudan LiberationArmy and smaller Justice and EqualityMovement. But it was not just the armyand its proxy Janjaweed militias that theregime unleashed. It was the air force.Ground attacks that killed hundreds ofpeople were coordinated with Antonovbombers and helicopter gunships thatflew before, during and after theoffensives – often, it seemed, to ensurethat there were no survivors.

I spent a month in West Darfur early in2004 and met hundreds of members ofthe Masalit tribe, a farming people whohad already been the target of a govern-ment-supported war in the late 1990s.Their stories were remarkably consist-ent. Government planes, they said, hadbombed Masalit villages heavily andsystematically between August 2003 andFebruary 2004, when I began my re-search.

Typically, the village of Tunfunka inWest Darfur was bombarded by two

Antonovs on 7 February 2004, killingeight people. A 28-year-old villager whowitnessed the bombardment said theAntonovs returned the following day,but did not bomb. He surmised this wasbecause the village had been completelydestroyed; there was nothing left to burn.On 27 August 2004, at least 26 civiliansdied in the town of Habila whenAntonovs launched the fiercest bom-bardment of the war thus far. JamalAbdul Hamman Arbab, a graduate ofKhartoum University who was visitingrelatives in Habila at the time, saw hisbrother, sister and two nephews killed.Five others were wounded, including hismother and another two brothers.

Antonovs bombed Habila six times thatday,’ he told me. ‘There are many ques-tions about this bombing: there werepolice in Habila, and army. But Habila wasfull of people displaced by attacks onvillages all around. We think the bombingwas because of the displaced.

The air campaign of 2003-4 was qualita-tively different from aerial bombardmentin other, earlier Sudanese theatres.Antonov cargo planes were no longerblindly scattering barrels of explosives.The army had acquired ground-attackhelicopters and tactical support aircraftthat delivered their deadly loads with anew precision – most lethally, accordingto eyewitnesses, when targeting columnsof displaced people.

When it was finally, belatedly taken totask, the Sudan government simply de-nied it was using planes. In Darfur, thisclaim was treated with the contempt itdeserved.

‘We have cows,’ one old man told me.‘Only the government has planes!’

A no-fly zone as a solution to Darfur’sincreasingly complex crisis is an easysound bite for presidential hopefuls ea-ger to harness the massive grassrootssupport enjoyed by the Save Darfur

Coalition, the high-profile, high-decibeladvocacy movement which has cam-paigned vigorously for this. But thosewho are demanding a no-fly zone arereading from an outdated script. Thenumbers of civilians killed by air attacksthis year is in the dozens. It’s a shockingcrime for a government to bombard itsown people. But it’s simply wrong to say,as Senator Hillary Clinton did during aspeech in Washington at the end of June,that US action should be ‘focused on theair support the Sudanese provide to theJanjaweed as they rape and pillage theirway through villages.’ Aerial bombard-ment, Clinton claimed , ‘comes before,during and after.’

In 2003-2004, it did. In 2007, it does not.The worst violence in Darfur this yearhas not been caused by aerial bombard-ment, or by Janjaweed attacks againstvillages, as it was at the height of theconflict in 2003-4. Darfur in 2007 is notRwanda. There is a multiplicity of con-flicts in Darfur today – government vs.rebel, rebel vs. rebel, former rebel vs.rebel, Arab vs. Arab, Janjaweed vs. Arab,Central Reserve Police vs. PopularDefense Forces, armed bandits vs. any-one with anything to loot ... The mostlethal battles this year have been causedby fights over land between Arab militiasinitially armed by Khartoum but nowfighting each other. A distant second isattacks on rebel-controlled villages byformer rebels now alighed with the Su-dan government. Not once has therebeen bombing ‘before, during and after’attacks. Today, stopping military flightswouldn’t make much of a difference tothe Darfurian people.

On 13 July, the US envoy to Sudan,Andrew Natsios, seemed to imply that itwould, thereby giving fuel to the inter-ventionist lobby in the US – a lobby thatsome see as an obstacle to peace becauseof the influence it exerts over the USCongress. This infuence, one of Ameri-ca’s most eminent Sudan scholars says,‘intimidates the State Department and



hinders any rational approach to Su-dan.’

After a brief visit to Darfur in July,Natsios told a news conference in Khar-toum:

After a halt in the bombing between thebeginning of February and the end ofApril in 2007, the Sudanese governmenthas resumed bombing in Darfur … Weurge the Sudanese government to end allbombing in Darfur immediately.

Natsios’s words were problematic forseveral reasons. Firstly, he got his factswrong. There was indeed a brief upsurgein aerial bombardment in the first half of2007, but it was heaviest in April, when,according to him, it had not yet recom-menced. Secondly, and most importantly,he gave no context or detail and did noteven attempt to suggest the human costof the bombardment. I know of threeconfirmed deaths – two in the village ofAmarai in north Darfur, and one in asmaller village a few miles south. Therewill be more, but it is unlikely that therewere many more. Rebel commandershave thuraya satellite telephones andare not backwards in coming forwardswith headline news for the world’smedia.

The background to the renewed bom-bardment is this: addressing visitors tothe Holocaust Museum in Washingtonon Remembrance Day, in mid-April,President Bush launched a broadsideagainst the rebels who refused to sign theDarfur Peace Agreement in May 2006.‘They’re roaming the Darfur countrysidepillaging and stealing at will,’ he said.‘They have killed civilians, they’ve plun-dered vehicles and plundered suppliesfrom international aid workers, they’veadded to the lawlessness. The govern-ment in Khartoum has been unable tocontrol the problem.’ He might as wellhave said ‘unfortunately’.

A few days after Bush spoke, Khartoum

took its helicopter gunships out of wrapsand attacked the area of north Darfurwhere scores of non-signatory command-ers from the Sudan Liberation Armywere meeting to try to unify their ranksand their negotiating position. FirstAntonov bombers struck north of Amarai,the village in which the commanderswere gathering. There were no casual-ties. Then they struck south, killing ayoung woman. Four days after Bush’sgrotesquely exaggerated accusation, theyhit the conference site itself - unleashingtwo Antonovs and two helicopter gun-ships in the most brazen and egregiousviolation of the ceasefire in many months.They did not hit the commanders, whowere hidden from sight in Amarai’swooded valley. They hit Amarai villageand its small market. One SLA leaderclaimed the bombardment killed 26 civil-ians. Privately, another said the true tollwas two. A third said it was three.

‘I do not think we have to convince theworld there are abuses in Darfur,’ he said.‘We have to keep ourselves honest, or wewill lose our credibility.’

Nastios’ words deepened concern thatBush might incline more towards theinterventionist urgings of many in theSave Darfur Coalition. Relief agenciesoperational in Darfur scrambled to see ifthere was anything they had missed, adegree of aerial bombardment that mightchange their calculations. There was not.

‘Yes, the air strikes need to stop,’ said onerelief official in Darfur, ‘but this is no morethan one of many protection issues – andit’s not the biggest problem. It’s stillcompletely true to say that the biggestthreat to civilians is from ground attacksrather than air.’

Enforcing a no-fly zone would in anycase be a phenomenal challenge: Darfuris bigger than Iraq and nearly 50 timeslarger than Kosovo, with the nearestairfields in Chad themselves a vast dis-tance away from any NATO bases. Many

military planners doubt its practicality.Humanitarians are concerned that amilitary approach to a no-fly zone wouldrequire bases in Chad. They believe thiscould exacerbate tensions between Su-dan and Chad and undermine securityand the peace processes in and betweenboth Sudan and Chad.

The humanitarians’ opposition to a no-fly zone has not diminished the enthusi-asm for it of presidential hopefuls. In aYouTube debate among them on 23July,Sen. Clinton proposed that the US mili-tary take over the humanitarian airlift toDarfur in the event of a no-fly zoneleading to the grounding of humanitar-ian flights. She did not explain how theUS military would deliver aid to thosewhose lives depend on it even if, asseems unlikely, US troops got as far as elFasher without adding fuel to the exist-ing fire.

‘In theory perhaps 2500 US troops couldsecure the airfields and the supply routesto the camps for the displaced,’ said Alexde Waal, programme director at the SocialScience Research Council and a director ofJustice Africa. ‘But we can be sure thatthe Sudan government would strenu-ously object and we would be locked intoanother cycle of escalating threats andcounter-threats. For what? To stop the airforce – a minor player in Darfur’s crisistoday – from flying. I cannot think of aserious humanitarian or human rightsorganization that advocates anything ap-proaching this. It’s very strange thatpoliticians should be advocating a no-flyzone when most activist groups haveabandoned the idea.’

De Waal warned that Darfur was becom-ing a blank screen onto which US politi-cians projected their moral credentials.

‘A simplified genocide narrative is gettingin the way of seeing Darfur with anyclarity,’ he said. ‘The presidential hopefulsare floating military proposals that mighthave made sense at the height of the

Bosnian war or the Rwanda genocide, butwhich bear little relation to the realities ofDarfur today. In his testimony to theHouse of Representatives in April, JohnPrendergast of ENOUGH spoke of thedangers of a no-fly zone, remarking thattaking this action resulted in a humanitar-ian crisis, that crisis would be on ‘ourwatch’ and therefore the US should beready to deploy ground forces to sustainthe humanitarian effort. It is a short stepfrom this position to advocating an inva-sion for humanitarian purposes.’

Khartoum is already claiming that inter-national aid organizations are agents ofhostile Western governments whose ulti-mate goal is regime change. Threats ofcoercive military action are giving oxy-gen to regime hardliners. A militarystrike would most likely hand PresidentOmar al Bashir the same kind of propa-ganda victory he scored when Americancruise missiles knocked out a pharma-ceutical factory in Khartoum in 1998.

Sound bites are no substitute for solu-tions. To address the problem of airstrikes, those who work in Darfur – andwho understand how the Sudan govern-ment works – want strengthened moni-toring of hostile flights as envisagedunder UN Security Council resolution1591. This would require permanentAMIS access at airfields, where govern-ment officials routinely make access dif-ficult, with no curfew limitations. To bereally effective, it would require newresources for the already overstretchedAU forces.

Those concerned about Darfur – prima-rily the United States, Britain and, sincethe election of President Nicolas Sarkozy,France – must stop indulging in confron-tational rhetoric, empty threats and mega-phone diplomacy. Instead, they mustsupport efforts to mend rebel divisions,engage constructively with Khartoum,and encourage new peace talks that arenot tied to artificial deadlines. They mustpush for strengthened monitoring and



public reporting of hostile flights, anddevelop an international consensus foreffective actions to change the situationwhere it would really make a difference –on the ground. AMIS needs to be strength-ened immediately, with a new mandatethat authorizes its troops to protect thecamps for the displaced.

As with medicine, the humanitarian’sfirst obligation is to do no harm. All talkof coercive military action must end – it’srecklessly dangerous and doesn’t ad-dress real solutions. The road to hell isstill paved with good intentions.

Julie Flint, e-mail: [email protected]

Editor’s Note: In the cacophony buzz thatsurrounds these issues the frustration is acuteamongst those who care passionately about theSudanese people. We ask ourselves, ‘have theytaken leave of their senses’? The ‘they’ beingthose who profit from this despicable tragedy.Many thanks to Julie for continuing to speak outwhere few do (and a plug for her book!)

Nigeria: ContestedElections & an UnstableDemocracy

Usman A. Tar & Alfred B. Zack-Williams

On 14 and 21 April 2007, Nigerians wentto the polls to elect a President, 36 StateGovernors, 109 Senators (Upper Houseof Parliament), and 360 members of theHouse of Representatives (Lower House).The elections were supposed to show-case Nigeria’s capacity to conduct – forthe first time in the country’s 47 years ofindependence – a peaceful transitionfrom one ‘democratic’ regime to another(HRW, 2007c). Two previous elections ofthis nature (1983 and 2003) proveddisappointing, as they became a merecharade for reproducing regimes in pow-ers. Indeed, 2007 turned out to be a caseof deja vu, as President OlusegunObasanjo who had been rebuffed by thelegislators in his quest for an unprec-edented and unconstitutional third term,succeeded in thwarting the political am-bitions of his rivals by imposing hischosen successor – Musa Yar’Adua – theyounger brother of his erstwhile militarycomrade, General Shehu Yar’Adua.

Like all previous post-Independence elec-tions, the 2007 elections were full ofcontroversies and were widely con-demned as fraudulent, violent and stage-managed by the outgoing presidentOlusegun Obasanjo and his ruling Peo-ples Democratic Party. The nature of theconduct of the elections has generatedwidespread anger and fury amongstNigerians, as well as local and foreignobservers. In spite of this, both the outgo-ing President and the Independent Na-tional Electoral Commission (INEC)defiantly declared that the electionsthough far from perfect, yet, the faults donot warrant cancellation. Indeed,Obasanjo warned that the electionsshould not be judged against the stand-

Darfur: A Short History of aLong War by Julie Flint &Alexander De Waal publishedby ZED Books, London.

ards of mature democracies of Europeand America. Hence, on 29 May Presi-dent-Elect, Musa Yar’Adua of the Peo-ples Democratic Party (PDP) was swornin amidst much international and localdispleasure.

In this briefing, we shall examine theelections as an indicator of the country’scrisis of democracy. In the followingsection, we briefly examine why demo-cratic consolidation and, therefore, peace-ful elections have defied Nigeria.Thereafter, we assess the conduct andoutcome of the elections, public reac-tions, and implications for Nigeria’sfledgling democracy.

Background: Nigeria’s Crises ofGovernance & Democracy

The Nigerian ‘state’ (particularly accessto state resources and power) has been asubject of fierce contestation betweendifferent factions of the ruling class andcomponents of the federation (federal‘centre’ versus federating ‘states’). Giventhe contentious nature of Nigerian feder-alism, democracy and nation buildinghave proved elusive. In the aftermath ofindependence, the Nigerian ruling classfailed to deliver a functioning and viabledemocracy resulting in periodic military

longed military intervention (1966-1979)as well as a bloody civil war (1967-1970)in which over one million lives were lostand vital social and physical infrastruc-tures destroyed. Between 1979 and 1983,Nigeria witnessed a second democraticexperiment led by Alhaji Shehu Shagari,a politician who had served as juniorminister in the first Republic. The newdemocratic government reinvented theills of the first republic. In particular, theruling class resorted to ‘prebendal poli-tics’ (Joseph, 1983) by transforming thestate into an instrument of personalenrichment through a client-patron rela-tionship between the political class andthose loyal to it.

On 31 December 1983, the military over-threw the Shagari administration on thegrounds of the rapidly deteriorating eco-nomic situation and the turmoil thatfollowed the rigged 1983 national elec-tions by the ruling National Party ofNigeria. The military remained in power,largely through deceit, repression andmanipulation, for a protracted period(1983-1999), in what has been describedas a period of ‘permanent transition’(Beckett & Young, 1997). In spite ofachieving democracy, Nigerians havenot witnessed the so-called ‘democraticdividends’: the transition to civilian rule

Briefings: Nigeria: Contested Elections & an Unstable Democracy 541

intervention in the nation’saffairs. Elected representa-tives became local champi-ons, drawing support fromtheir disparate religions/ethnicities, effectively trans-forming the state into a thea-tre of ethnic politics.

Between 1960-1966, Niger-ia’s first experiment inWestminster-style ‘liberaldemocracy’ failed as politi-cians abused state power forpersonal aggrandisementand perpetuating powerthrough appeal to ethnic andregional cleavages. Thispaved the way for a pro-


has not delivered a democratically ac-countable government for Nigerians. Theusual chaos and rancour that character-ised politics in the first and secondrepublics are evident in the new demo-cratic era, and continue to pervade pub-lic life. Governments and electedrepresentatives at all levels of the federa-tion are preoccupied with self-centred‘power politics’, rather than social wel-fare.

A number of pervasive indicators areevident in Nigerian politics, with ad-verse implications for the conduct of‘elections’ and democratic consolida-tion. First is the politicisation of sectariandifferences, particularly by politicians whouse it as a means to achieving andperpetuating power. A second feature isthe militarisation of the state and politicalculture, resulting largely from prolongedmilitary rule and its attendant institu-tionalisation of violence. It is worthnoting that a significant proportion ofthe Nigeria ruling class, including some‘civilian democrats’ and political ap-pointees are ex-military men with aninfectious penchant for ‘barrack culture’.A third pervasive feature which comple-ments the above is the privatisation ofviolence, particularly the establishmentof private and party militias by politi-cians as a means of protecting their lootfrom state plundering by demonstratingthe power of the gun and intimidatingrival politicians and members of thepublic. The privatisation of violence pro-duces a multiplier effect of violence: asvarious militias seek to intensify theirdefences, the state in turn resorts tomassive firepower to rein in militants. Afourth feature is the personalisation of stateapparatus by those in power – often forpersonal gain and enforcing legitimacy.Key examples include a) alleged conver-sion of the Nigerian anti-corruption com-mission by the outgoing president, as adesigner agency for discrediting andmarginalising real and potential en-emies through trumped-up charges of‘corruption’ which, in fact, is a nation-

wide disease; b) the use of state securityservices to silence political foes and c)the use of electoral institutions in pre-venting select politicians from contest-ing for power.

The 2007 General Elections:Dramas & Controversies

A number of agencies had pointed topotential fault lines in the electoral proc-ess that would negate any attempt at freeand fair elections. For instance, the Cen-tre for Democracy and Development(CDD), a Pan-African NGO based inLondon, Accra and Lagos, had warnedthat:

the 2007 polls […] contain huge po-tential to go badly off-track; tobecome not a milestone in democraticconsolidation, but instead one markedby malpractice, injustice, criminality,violence, human rights abuses andincreased instability. Already, at least18 months before polling, there is a cleartrend towards negative developments ori-ented towards the 2007 elections (CDD,2007:1, our emphasis).

Others expressed similar concerns (seee.g. IRI, 2007; Ibrahim, 2007). Yet, as theelection approached, neither the statenor the Independent National ElectionCommission (INEC) took steps to ad-dress these issues. The elections con-sisted of two rounds of voting: theGubernatorial Round held on 14 Apriland the Presidential Round held on 24April. In the first round, the PDP emergedvictorious in 29 of the 33 States declared.The President expressed delight with theresult, pointing out that it had gone‘fairly well’ while INEC said Nigeriansshould be proud of their achievement(The Economist, 2007). However, 18 oppo-sition parties, including the Action Con-gress (AC) of outgoing Vice PresidentAtiku Abubakar and the leader of the AllNigeria Peoples Party (ANPN), formerMilitary dictator-turned-politician, Gen-eral Muhammadu Buhari (Rtd.), de-

manded ‘tough’ measures to ensure alevel playing field or the cancellation ofthe elections and the dissolution of INEC.However, calls for the cancellation of theelections petered off as election dateapproached.

Outside party bickering, election moni-tors were somewhat unanimous aboutthe flaws of the election. Human RightsWatch (HRW) described the vote-rigging as ‘shameless’ while the Euro-pean Union observers claimed that inhalf a dozen states there was no realelection. Reporting on the conduct ofelections in the country’s largest oilproducing region, the Niger Delta, HRWmonitors alleged that:

Open rigging of an electoral process thatdeprived voters of the opportunity to casttheir ballots in many areas. Voting failedto take place in many areas where INEClater reported voter turnout in excess of90% (HRW, 2007a).

Furthermore, in several areas of RiversState, local observers and foreign jour-nalists watched ballot boxes being stuffedwith ballots marked in favour of theruling PDP in full view of the public:

The extremely high voter turnout asreported by INEC was not borne out bythe situation witnessed on the ground,indicating that the elections in those twostates were systematically rigged in fa-vour of the PDP (Ibid.).

The controversy over the GubernatorialRound did not augur well for the im-pending Presidential Round, in particu-lar, fears about President Obasanjo andhis ruling party’s mendacious determi-nation to manipulate the election, notedby Polgreen (2007:3):

Partial results from Nigeria’s highly con-tested state elections appear to hand mostvictories to governing Peoples DemocraticParty, prompting violent protests to break

out in several of the country’s 36 states;allegations of vote rigging, ballot stealingand intimidation in several states raisedfears that presidential voting, to be heldlater this week, could fail; Peoples Demo-cratic Party has struggled to retain itsdominance as infighting rages over whowill replace Olusegun Obasanjo; there aretwo dozen candidates.

On the eve of the Presidential election,the BBC reported that Nigeria remained‘tense’, citing politically-motivated vio-lence carried out by, and between, rivalparty militias; a heavy presence of themilitary deployed on the streets of majorcities to maintain ‘law and order’, notingthat at least 26 people had died inelection-related violence. INEC officeswere burnt to the ground in severalplaces by protesters angry at its con-spiracy in electoral fraud. The result ofthe Presidential Round announced byINEC inevitably showed a resoundingvictory for the candidate of the rulingPDP (see Table 1 over).

To some commentators, the outcome ofthe Presidential Election was not fortui-tous – it was the product of meticulouslyplanned political manoeuvres by theruling party; it was not just brazenlyrigged, but the widespread violence re-sulted in at least 300 election-relateddeaths (Albin-Lackey & Rawlence, 2007).According to domestic and internationalelection observers, the same trends werein evidence throughout much of theFederation. The Group called for a re-runof the presidential polls while EuropeanUnion observers documented massiveirregularities and said that the process‘cannot be considered to have been cred-ible’. Teams from the US National Demo-cratic Institute and the InternationalRepublican Institute both said that theprocess ‘failed the Nigerian people’. Allappeals for cancellation fell on deaf ears,as outgoing President Obasanjo claimedthe election does not warrant cancella-tion.



Public Reactions on the Conduct& Outcome of the Elections

The brazen conduct of the electionssurprised and infuriated a lot of peopleand organisations. Others though, weresimply happy that at least ‘Nigerianshave made a choice’ and their democ-racy was still alive. Reactions to theelection ranged from outright rejection topassionate acceptance. The followingstatements, gathered from the media andinternet chat rooms, capture the mood ofa number of commentators: ‘A first de-gree murder of Africa’s largest democ-racy’; ‘why Nigeria may go nowhere’;‘2007 Elections: Nigerians are no fools’;‘Iwu’s 419 elections’; ‘Yar’Adua and thequestion of legitimacy’.2 A key concernwas that the elections were merely heldas a symbolic gesture to endorse thepreferred candidate of President Oba-sanjo, and the winner, Umaru MusaYar’Adua of the ruling PDP, contrary tothe will of Nigerians, as Chinuwuba(2007) observed:

It is heartbreaking as enthusiastic Nigeri-ans who were eager to effect a change ofgovernment watched helplessly as PDP in

connivance with INEC subverted thetransition process. Before the sham calledan election, I had posited that the electionwas predetermined, and that any resultthat goes against the expectation of thePDP stands unacceptable. This has even-tually played out, and explains the mal-practices/fraud/violence that trailed theentire exercise.

Both Obasanjo and INEC’s Chair, MauriceIwu argued that half a loaf of democracyis better than none. In response to con-cerns raised by the domestic and foreignpress, the President noted that withoutdoubt the elections were imperfect; how-ever that does not warrant cancellation.Almost repeating his master’s wordsIwu observed:

The 2007 election is far from perfect. TheCommission concedes that. But we areproud of the polls. We are also proud of thefact that this election has been free and fair… Nigerians must not lose sight of thenumerous difficulties and hindrances inthe political environment and the verytense and hostile atmosphere in which theCommission had to operate … Manypeople believed that it was impossible to

Table 1: Result of the Nigerian Presidential Election, 20071

Candidate Party Votes

Umaru Yar’Adua Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) 24,638,063Muhammadu Buhari All Nigeria Peoples Party (ANPP) 6,605,299Atiku Abubakar Action Congress (AC) 2,637,848Patrick Utomi African Democratic Congress (ADC) 50,849Lawrence Adedoyin African Political System (APS) 22,409Emmanuel Okereke African Liberation Party (ALP) 22,677Chukwuemeka Ojukwu All Progressives Grand Alliance 155,947Pere Ajuwa Alliance for Democracy (AD) 89,241Bartholomew Nnaji Better Nigeria Party 11,705Maxi Okwu Citizens Popular Party (CPP) 14,027Attahiru Bafarawa Democratic Peoples Party (DPP) 289,324Chris Okotie Fresh Democratic Party 74,049Ambrose Owuru Hope Democratic Party 28,519Mojisola Obasanjo Nigerian Masses Movement 4,309Olapade Agoro National Action Council 5,752Emmanuel Obayuwana National Conscience Party 8,229Habu Fari National Democratic Party 21,934Orji Uzor Kalu Progressive Peoples Alliance 608,803

1. The result did not show the total votes scored in each state or the percentage of scores by candidates.

print 65 million ballot papers in threedays. But we did it. To God be the glory(INEC, 2007).

Outside Nigeria, the country’s African‘peers’ have been seemingly complicitand complementary. For instance, Presi-dent Thabo Mbeki of South Africa wasthe first to congratulate Yar’Adua on hisvictory; President Ellen Johnson-Sirleafof Liberia’ also sent warm congratula-tions to Yar’Adua on ‘his landslidevictory’. However, within Nigeria oppo-sition parties vehemently condemned‘the electoral fraud’. Tom Ikimi of the ACand Lanre Amusu of ANPP made thefollowing statements:

In most of the states, only the ResidentElectoral Commissioners and the PDPAgents signed the results. We have beenhere since yesterday (Sunday) to observethis collation and we only collated elevenstates and the INEC Chairman justrushed down to declare the results anddeclare Umaru Yar’Adua as the winner(Ikimi, in Ojeifo, 2007).

Others noted:

results … were collated and signed by theResident Electoral Commissioners in theStates and the PDP Agents. Our agentsdid not sign these results (Amusu, inOjeifo, 2007).

Other opposition parties including theDemocratic Peoples Alliance (DPA), theAfrican Democratic Congress (ADC), theAction Congress (AC), All Nigeria Peo-ples Party (ANPP), National AdvanceParty (NAP) and the National Demo-cratic Party (NDP), also called for thecancellation of elections and the estab-lishment of an Interim National Govern-ment to set the stage for fresh ‘credible’elections. They cautioned against thedangers of military intervention. Promi-nent personalities too joined the call forfresh elections, including Nobel laureateWole Soyinka who urged Western pow-ers to impose travelling embargos on the

international movement of INEC’s chair,Maurice Iwu for his ‘complicity in thefraudulent elections’ (BBC News, 27April 2007).

There were also widespread concernsexpressed by the international commu-nity. The US expressed deep concernregarding violence and voting irregulari-ties during both state and presidentialelections. Furthermore, former US Secre-tary of State Madeleine Albright, whovisited Nigeria as the head of an interna-tional observer mission, expressed herconcerns at Nigeria’s inability to con-duct genuine elections:

Regrettably, 2007 represents a step back-ward in the conduct of elections in Nigeria.In many places, in a number of ways, theelectoral process failed the Nigerian people(Sunday Morning Herald, 2007).

These ‘condemnations’ not withstand-ing, the US and the UK Governmentsgave a thumbs up to Obasanjo’s machi-nations resulting in a winner of hischoice, one who would not come back tohaunt him by demanding accountabilityof his stewardship to the Nigerian peo-ple. For the US, it provides the transitionto a safe pair of hands, of one of the mostimportant sources of oil for Americanconsumers in the troubled campaign onthe war against terrorism, thus reducingthe Super-Power’s dependence on oil ofthe troubled Persian Gulf.

Implications of the Elections

Given the manner in which the electionswere conducted and the outcome, thepolitical class must brace itself for chal-lenges for state hegemony. Within Ni-geria there now exists a crisis oflegitimacy, in particular, the credibilityof the state and its ruling classes tocommand the loyalty of aggrieved Nige-rians. In a recent report, the InternationalCrises Group (ICG) argues that the fail-ure of the April elections has majorimplications for Nigeria’s governance,



internal security and stability (cited inallAfrica.com, 2007). The report notesthat although a new government hastaken power in Abuja, it has yet to earn aplace in the hearts of Nigerians. It quotesseveral leading figures, both in govern-ment and civil society, who are worriedabout the likely legitimacy crises thatmight accompany the flawed elections.For instance, the outgoing Senate Presi-dent P. Nnamani laments that: ‘peoplewill hate the new administration andthey will have a crisis of legitimacy.’Similarly, the President of the NigeriaLabour Congress, Abdul-waheed Omar,stated at a Labour Day rally in Abujathat: ‘Any government based on theoutcome of the elections will be politi-cally and morally disabled’. As we write,The Labour Congress has embarked on anational strike, which began on 20 Junewith regards to fuel price hikes imposedby the new government.

It is evident that the legitimacy of thepolitical class and the state are appar-ently at a very low ebb. Since 1999, therehas been mounting apathy and discon-tent over the shameless conduct of thepolitical class and its inability to deliverthe so-called ‘democracy dividend’ toNigeria’s teeming population of 140million. This concern has intensified inthe aftermath of the April 2007 elections.A case in point is the Niger Delta, aregion plagued by violent contestationsover minority and environmental rights(see Idemudia & Ite, 2006:391-406; seealso Ifeka, 2006). Many observers aresceptical about the legitimate capacity ofYar’Adua’s newly inaugurated govern-ment to win the hearts and minds ofpeople of this restive region. The Move-ment for the Emancipation of the NigerDelta (MEND), one of the region’s mainmilitant groups, has warned that unlessgenuine steps are taken to address theproblem through dialogue, violence willcontinue. The region’s familiar securitythreats, such as hostage taking andabduction of expatriate oil workers, haveworsened: ‘the militants have been in-

creasing their violent attacks in the oil-rich Delta. Dozens of foreign workershave been kidnapped this year’ (VOA,2007).

The foregoing situation is likely to dete-riorate, as noted by Joseph Croft of theStakeholder Democracy Network (SDN):

I think you are likely to see an increase inactivity by armed groups and interest inpeople using violence to air their griev-ance and challenge the state, because thestate does not have any legitimacy in theeyes of the majority of the people in theNiger Delta at the moment and that’s avery worrying situation (cited in VOA,2007).

In other parts of the country, civil societyhas stepped-up efforts to question thelegitimacy of the new government. Forinstance, The Coalition of Civil andHuman Rights Groups has committeditself to use all legitimate means to givethe Yar’Adua presidency a good run forits illegitimate claims on power. Simi-larly, the Campaign for Democracy (CD),which spearheaded the campaigns thatended military dictatorship in the late1990s, has sworn to continue its chal-lenge to the new administration.

The conduct and outcome of the elec-tions is already impacting on Nigeria’sreputation within the New Partnershipfor African Development (NEPAD) andits peer-review mechanism for democ-racy and development. Nigeria’s long-standing failure in organising credibleelections could be contrasted with therelatively stable democratic polities suchas Botswana, Comoros, Seychelles andSouth Africa, who continue to develop .An important question is whether or notNigeria could continue to lay claim tocontinental leadership as the Economisthas questioned:

If Africa’s vaunted renaissance is to meananything, Nigeria – it is widely agreed –must point the way. It is Africa’s most

populous country (with 140m people), itsbiggest oil producer (with 3% of theworld’s exports), and fancies itself as thecontinent’s diplomatic leader, alongsideSouth Africa. Its relatively smooth transi-tion from military to civilian rule in 1999had raised hopes that Nigeria might beleaving the cruelty and mismanagement ofthe two previous decades behind it – andput the country squarely back as arespected giant of the continent (TheEconomist, 19 April 2007).3

Sadly, given the experience of the 2007elections, Nigeria’s political class hasfailed in its travail of the democratictightrope.

Conclusion

The conduct of the elections has broughtto the fore the question of whether freeand fair elections can be successfullyconducted by the Nigerian political class.The elections have shown that ‘insteadof guaranteeing citizens’ basic rights tovote freely, the government and its elec-toral officials have actively colluded infraud and violence that marred the wholeexercise as officials closed their eyes tohuman rights abuses committed by sup-porters of the ruling party and others(HRW, 2007b).

The conduct of the elections is sympto-matic of a deeply rooted malaise within thepolitical economy of Nigeria, a polity thatdepends on prebendalism and patri-monialism. Thus it seems that Nigeria’sinability to live up to local and interna-tional expectations, as manifested by itsappalling failure in building a stabledemocracy has justified the country’sdescription as ‘a regressive state’ (Tar,2007).4

Usman Tar, e-mail: [email protected]; Alfred B. Zack-Williams, e-mail: [email protected]

Endnotes

1. The result did not show the total votes scoredin each state or the percentage of scores bycandidates.

2. Available http://www.amanaonline.com.

3. The Economist, ‘How to steal yet anotherelection’, http://www.economist.com/world/africa/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9050948accessed 30 May 2007.

4. This is defined as ‘a fragile state that is driftingbackwards, in developmental terms, when itscontemporaries are moving forward, irrespectiveof the speed and level of progress’. A key featureof a regressive state is ‘a selfish political andbureaucratic class, intent on enriching itself atthe expense of a deprived mass of society’.

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Centre for Democracy and Development(CDD) (2007), ‘2007 Elections: Democracy inNigeria at a Crossroads’, London: CDD.

Chinuwuba, Philip (2007), ‘PDP vs. People:Evil Succeeds’, posted at Amanaonline on 4May, available, http://www.amanaonline.com/Articles/art_4089. html, accessed 30 May.

Human Rights Watch (HRW) (2007a), ‘Nigeria:Presidential Election Marred by Fraud, Violence’,press release dated 17 April, available: http://hrw.org/english/docs/2007/04/24/nigeri15763.htm, accessed 28 May; (2007b), ‘Nigeria:Presidential Election Marred by Fraud, Violence’,press release dated 25 April. available http://hrw.org/english/docs/2007/04/24/nigeri15763.htm, accessed 28 May; (2007c), ‘Electionor ‘Selection’? Human Rights Abuse and Threatsto Free and Fair Elections in Nigeria’, HRWReport No 1, April, available http://hrw.org/backgrounder/africa/nigeria0407/#_ftn1,accessed 8 June.



Ibrahim, J. (2007), ‘Nigeria’s 2007 Elections:The Pitfall Path to Democratic Citizenship’,Report No 182, United States Institute for Peace,Washington, DC.

Idemudia, Uwafiokun & Uwen E. Item (2006),‘Demystifying the Niger Delta Conflict: Towardan Integrated Explanation’, Review of AfricanPolitical Economy, No 109:391-406.

Ifeka, Caroline (2006), ‘Youth Cultures and theFetishization of Violence in Nigeria’, Review ofAfrican Political Economy No 110:721-736.

INEC (2007), ‘Solid Foundation Laid for FutureElections’ available: http://www.inecnigeria.org/newsview. php?newsid=316, accessed 4June 2007.

International Republican Institute (IRI)(2007), ‘2007 Nigerian National Elections: Pre-Election Assessment Final Report’, Washington:IRI.

Joseph, Richard (1983), ‘Class, State andPrebendal Politics in Nigeria’, Journal ofCommonwealth and Comparative Politics, Vol. 21(3).

Local Election Observers Group (LEOG) (2007),‘An Election Programmed to Fail: PreliminaryReport on the Presidential and NationalAssembly Elections Held on Saturday, 21 April2007’, Abuja: LEOG.

Polgreen, Lydia (2007), ‘Nigerian GoverningParty Takes Lead in State Elections’, The NewYork Times, 16 April.

Sowore, O. & I. Ellis-Ezenekwe (2007), ‘MauriceIwu - The full Story of a Fraudulent Umpire’,Saharareporters: http://www.saharareporters.com/www/report/detail/?id=219, accessed 12June.

Sunday Morning Herald (2007), ‘Nigeria election“worst ever seen”’, http://www.smh.com.au/news/world/nigeria-election-worst-ever-seen/2007/04/24/1177180600209.html, accessed 10June.

Tar, Usman A. (2007), ‘Building Democracy ina Regressive State: the Travails of ElectoralPolitics in Nigeria’ in K. Omeje (ed.), State-SocietyRelations in Nigeria, London: Adonis & Abbey.

Voice of America (VOA) (2007), ‘AnalystsSceptical over Militant Truce Appeal in Nigeria’,available http://voanews.com/english/2007-06-03-voa17.cfm, accessed 4 June.

Nigeria: DemographicFacts & Figures

Population in 1991 88.9 millionProjected Population (2003) 126,252,844Projected male population (2003) 63,241,808Project female population (2003) 62,911,036Population Growth rate 2.9% p.a.Urban Population 37.7%Rural Population 62.3%Totality Fertility Rate 5.7 (NHDS 2003)Crude Birth Rate 40 per 1000 live birthsLife Expectancy at birth 52 yearsInfant Morality Rate 100/1000 birthsMaternal Mortality Rate 800-1,500/100,000Under-five Mortality Rate 210/1000 birthsContraceptive Prevalence Rate 8%Literacy Rate 45%

Source: National Population Commission (2007) NigeriaPopulation Facts and Figures, available: http://www.population. gov.ng/factsandfigures.htm

✦

Verdicts on Nigerian 2007General Election: Motivevs. Judgement

Usman A. Tar

Commentators and observers of Niger-ia’s 2007 elections have aired diverseopinions, even though, with the excep-tion of the state, there is a relativeconsensus that the events were violent,fraudulent, and far from being ‘free andfair’. In this briefing, I examine thesubstance of such commentaries, andexplain motives behind them. I also try tocapture the degree of credibility in claimsadvanced by observers.

Verdict 1: The Elections were a SuccessGiven the Underlying Circumstances –Obasanjo & International Peers.

The earliest position, in support of up-holding the elections in spite of stagger-ing deficiencies, was advanced by theoutgoing president and the INEC. Field-ing questions to the media after theelection, President Obasanjo noted thatwithout doubt the elections were charac-terised by violence and fraud; however,he noted, given the difficulties and limi-tations encountered in the course of theelections, there is not compelling moralground to cancel the elections or conductanother round. He also stated that theelections should not be judged by west-ern standards.

Outside Nigeria, the country’s African‘peers’ have been seemingly complicit.For instance, President Thabo Mbeki ofSouth Africa was the first to congratulateYar’Adua on his victory. Others, includ-ing President Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf ofLiberia, congratulated Yar’ Adua on ‘hislandslide victory’. Surprisingly, someWestern governments and institutions,too, have been tempted to remain hesi-tant (a clear sign of acceptance), whilealso showing some degree of displeasure

with both the election and the subse-quent swearing-in of President-electUmaru Yar’Adua. Such reticence is per-haps influenced by ‘the default positionthat a civilian president with no man-date is better than the alternatives: chaosor military rule’ (Albin-Lackey andRawlence, 2007. It is argued, however,that ‘if Nigeria’s recent democratic fail-ure passes without consequences fromthe international community, then thevery idea of democracy in Africa is atserious risk’ (Ibid.).

Clearly Obasanjo’s desperate attempt tosave the election is informed by the needto maintain the status quo. He has beenindicted for manipulating the entire proc-ess and brokering the victory of thepresident-elect. On the other hand, it isno surprise that Nigeria’s African peersand international creditors remained ap-parently supportive of the country’s rul-ing class, as its struggles to reproducedominant power. Their aim is to ensurestability in Africa’s most populous na-tion, rather than sanction principledobservance of democratic ethos. It is thusreasonable to argue that both the rulingclass and its international allies arecomplicit in the game of reproducinghegemonic stability in Nigeria.

Verdict 2: ‘The Elections were Fraudu-lent and Deserve Outright Rejection’ –Local and Foreign Monitors.

Foreign and local observers condemnedthe elections in strong terms (see Table 1over). However, there are moral issuesabout how far and wide monitors havewitnessed the elections to lay claim onthe authenticity and legitimacy of theirverdicts. Consider the following:

Summary of Local Observer’sVerdict

Because of the sheer number of monitorsthey trained and deployed (50,000), aswell their sustained presence and par-ticipation in Nigeria, the verdict of local

Briefings: Verdicts on Nigerian 2007 General Election: Motive vs. Judgement 549


Table 1: Foreign & Local Monitors & their Verdicts

Observer Group No. of Monitors Summary of Verdict

European Union 150 At least 200 were killed, including voters, policeand candidates in both the state and nationalelections: ‘EU observers witnessed examples ofballot box stuffing, alteration of official resultforms, stealing of sensitive polling materials, votebuying and underage voting’.

International RepublicanInstitute, USA 59 ‘Underage voting, voter registration list errors,

stuffed ballot boxes, group voting, partyobservers and police instructing individuals onwho to vote for, lack of privacy for voting, lack ofresults sheets and other materials, falsifiedresults sheets, and early closings’.

Commonwealth ObserverGroup, London, UK 17 ‘We got reports that in several places the delay

was there. The polls were supposed to open at 10a.m. but we got reports in certain places theyopened at one, at three and some at five orlater ... What we have received is not widespread.Stuffing [of ballot boxes] was reported in one area,pre-marked papers in one area. So we cannottake that as general, but it is a shortcoming. I’mwaiting until I have all the facts before I make anassessment.’

Joint Action Forum n.a. ‘An appraisal of the electoral process reveals anINEC that is not only partisan in siding with theruling PDP but is generally unprepared for theelections … ‘Worst of all is the presidential poll …marred by voters’ apathy as a result of INECfailings to hold as scheduled the Presidential andNational Assembly elections in some parts of thecountry. States such Anambra, Imo and Plateaudispatched election materials at about 6 p.m.when voting ought to have been concluded anhour earlier.’

National DemocraticInstitute, USA 61 ‘Regrettably, the 2007 polls represent a step

backward in the conduct of elections in Nigeria. Atthe same time, there are positive trends in thecountry’s democratisation process that give riseto hope … ‘The serious flaws witnessed duringthis electoral process threaten to further erodecitizen confidence in the country’s democraticinstitutions.’

Local ElectionObserver Group, Nigeria 50,000* ‘Our monitors throughout the country ... docu-

mented numerous lapses, irregularities andelectoral malpractices that characterised theelection in many states … We therefore reject itand call for its cancellation’ (emphasis added).

Source: BBC, ‘What Nigerian Elections Observers Say’, available: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/6582979.htm,accessed 11 July 2007; *Note the disparity in the number of monitors deployed by Local Elections Observer Groupas compared to others.

observers – the Local Election Observa-tion Group (hereinafter ‘the Group’ orLEOG) – deserves a more detailed as-sessment here. The Group consisted ofthe Transition Monitoring Group (TMG),Labour Election Monitoring Team(LEMT), Citizens Forum for Constitu-tional Reform (CFCR), the Electoral Re-form Network (ERN), Muslim League forAccountability (MULAC), Centre for De-mocracy and Development (CDD), andAlliance for Credible Elections (ACE-Nigeria). Most constituent members ofthe Group participated in the 1999 and2003 Elections.

The Group report (LEOG, 2007) high-lights a number of reasons why theelections failed. This includes the factthat preparations for the elections werechaotic and unpredictable and notingthat in many states, especially in theSoutheast (e.g. Abia Anambra and Imo)and Northeast (e.g. Adamawa), electionsdid not take place due to the non-delivery of election materials and thiscreated a major challenge for the securityagencies. In others, Senatorial and Houseof Assembly Elections were either notheld or held in selected polling stationsand constituencies due to confusion innames and photographs of candidatesas well as logos of political parties. Inplaces where elections were held, votingdid not commence until late in theafternoon due to late arrival of electionmaterials. Voters waited in the scorchingsun and those that could not wait wenthome angry and disappointed at a sys-tem and process that denied them theirsovereign right to elect leaders of theirchoice. Some that waited could not casttheir votes, as INEC did not avail Presid-ing Officers of rechargeable lanternseven though it claimed to have them instore. In some places, voting did not takeplace at all due to the non-delivery ofelection materials and this created chal-lenges for the security agencies. TheGroup lamented that INEC offered ‘nosatisfactory explanation’ for this state ofaffairs.

Furthermore, local observers pointed toINEC’s appalling performance in themanagement of the elections, raisingdoubts about its independence, imparti-ality and competence as an electionreferee. The Groups claims that:

The logistics arrangement made for theelections can only be described as shoddy.A few days to the elections, the INECleadership was still moving around Resi-dent Electoral Commissioners in somestates. Some of the RECs were redeployedless than 48 hours to the elections. Nosatisfactory explanation has been offeredby INEC for these redeployments. It isdifficult to understand the rationale forthese redeployments and how the RECscould be expected to familiarize themselveswith their new states and deliver.

INEC failed in many places to makearrangements to transport election offi-cials and materials to polling stations. Insome places, even where materials ar-rived at distribution points more thanthree hours late, elections officials stillhad to carry their materials and trek withthem for kilometres to their polling sta-tions, causing more delays and exposingthem to security risks (LEOG, 2007:3-4).

There were a number of compoundingfactors behind INEC’s poor managementof the elections. The first was INEC’ssecretive decision to procure and stockelection materials in South Africa, adecision taken without broad consulta-tion with political parties and civil soci-ety. Concerns were also expressed thatoutsourcing and stocking of electionmaterials carried the risk of logisticfailure, fraud and ballot stuffing. Sec-ondly, the last minute inclusion by theCourt of Appeal of the once disqualifiedformer Vice President Atiku Abubakar,forced INEC to reprint the ballot papersfor the elections, thus increasing thechances of fraud and other malpractice.

The Group claims that in the periodpreceding the elections, INEC’s Chair-



man, Maurice Iwu, was more concernedwith ‘making political statements andfighting political battles’, rather than‘ensuring that arrangements were put inplace to guarantee a smooth electoralprocess.’ The Group also noted that inspite of government and INEC’s con-stant assurance in the period leading upto the election, to guarantee the personalsafety of citizens, there were rampantbreaches before, during and after thepolls. For instance, the then Inspector-General of the Police informed the nationthat state-of-the-art policing equipmenthad been procured to ensure safety andsecurity during the elections. Disap-pointedly, the Group reports that ‘theelectoral process, from voter registration,party primaries and political campaignto polling has been characterised bywidespread violence and general inse-curity’ (LEOG, 2007:4).

Monitors drew attention to the harass-ment to which many members and work-ers for the opposition parties suffered, aswell as the government’s mismanage-ment of the electoral process. They alsopointed to the flouting of electoral lawsby law enforcement agencies, who con-stituted themselves into complainants,accusers, investigators, prosecutors andjudges:

working in collaboration with the INECand the Federal Ministry of Justice, theyindicted and excluded opposition politi-cians from the electoral process at will. Onseveral occasions, candidates belonging tothe opposition parties in several statesacross the country were arrested andtaken to Abuja, which impacted negativelyon their preparations for the elections andfrightened their supporters (LEOG, 2007).

Below we note some of the lapses in theorganisation of the elections, which inturn point to the complicity of the state inelectoral malpractices:

• In virtually all states, elections didnot start on time with the exception

of Abuja, the Federal Capital. Statessuch as Imo, Abia, Anambra, andEnugu, started so late that manypeople were unable to cast theirvotes;

• In most states of the federationincluding Katsina, Kaduna, Enugu,Benue, Niger, Nasarawa, andAdamawa, there was widespreadhoarding and a shortage of votingmaterials;

• In many constituencies, pollingcentres were closed, particularly inthe North East and South East;

• In states such as Kaduna, Niger,Lagos, Adamawa, Gombe, Bauchi,Abia, Katsina, Imo, Anambra andEnugu, House of Representativesand Senatorial elections were notconducted at all and in those thatwere, logos of some parties wereomitted from the ballot papers;

• There was lack of security of theballot. In states such as Kadunaand Niger, adequate security of theballot was not provided as electionofficials had to trek with theirelection materials for several kilo-metres to their polling stations with-out proper security;

• Voter turn out was so low in manystates that they could be describedas a ‘voter boycott because theoutcome did not reflect the will ofthe people as expressed throughtheir ballots;

• Lack of secrecy in balloting acrossthe 36 states and Abuja;

• INEC officials who presided overthe elections in many states werenot properly trained and some werechildren;

• Police officials were also not prop-erly trained and had no communi-

cation capabilities, which madethem helpless;

• Disorganised voter registrationwhich made it difficult for voters toidentify their names;

• Presidential ballot papers did nothave serial numbers which made itdifficult for voters and observers toknow how many were actuallyprinted.

• Complete lack of transparency inthe conduct of the elections (LEOG,2007:5)

Observing the Observers: IssuesRegarding Local & ForeignMonitorsThere are issues regarding the modusoperandi and relative influence of localand foreign (particularly European andAmerican) observers. Obviously, the‘politics’ of monitoring was in display:foreign observers were more privilegedand had more clout than their localcounterparts. First, compared to localmonitors, foreign observers were presentonly in a few cities, while local monitorswere deployed throughout the country;they required huge resources and man-power, but had to make do with little.Yet, foreign monitors enjoyed far greaterfunding and led posh life styles whichstood in the way of accessible, modestand trustworthy monitoring. They werebased in the most luxurious hotels inAbuja and other centres of power such asthe Sheraton Hotel and Towers, Agura,Rockview, and the Nico Noga Hilton.These hotels symbolise the wealth andgrandeur that local monitors can onlydream of; worse, they are worlds apartfrom the gloomy settings of the votingpublic (such as households, villagesquares and voting stations; the majorityof Nigerians live on less than a dollar aday!). Foreign monitors ‘imported’ theirfood and drinking water, drove the mostexpensive jeeps, carried the most expen-

sive computers and mobile telephonesduring the elections. They observed lessgothic scenes in Nigeria’s centres ofpower (Abuja, Lagos, Kano, PortHarcourt), rather than remote localeswhere electoral fraud and violence weremore rampant, albeit under-reported. Inmany villages, violence was more cata-strophic as uneducated local peoplewere wrongly informed to vote on thebasis of religion, ethnicity and regional-ism, and to use machetes, knives andtraditional dane guns to attack politicalenemies and guard electoral malpracticein their communities – all for few Nairanotes given to them by politicians.

Second, foreign observers deployed farfewer individual monitors than theirlocal counterparts (see Table above).Worse, their observations were the ‘tip ofthe iceberg’; for instance, in Nigeria,‘alteration’ (a method in which electionresults were altered with a stroke of pen)took place in the middle of the night,when foreign observers retired to theirposh hotels or private houses (in thisscenario, it would take a fearless endeav-our to detect high level fraud). LEOGreports have vividly documented scenesof sophisticated electoral fraud, usuallyunreported by their foreign counterparts.The point is, local monitors have re-vealed more than their foreign counter-parts in detecting and reportingsophisticated electoral crimes. It is wor-thy of note, however, that in this area, thecapacity of local monitors too have re-mained limited.

Third, foreign observers received a wideraudience and publicity than their localcolleagues. The reports of foreign moni-tors were timely and effectively carried,some live, in the international mediahouses such as BBC, CNN and Cana-dian Broadcasting Corporation. Indi-vidual monitors and heads of missionwere regularly invited to give mediainterviews. In addition, foreign monitorshad access to the most advanced tech-nology and internet facility. Their



websites contained easily accessible ma-terials and privileged information, someof which were commissioned work pro-duced by local civil society on theirbehalf. For instance, the European Un-ion, Election Observer Mission in Ni-geria, has a dedicated websiteadministered in Brussels (http://www.eueom-ng.org/). Surfing throughthe content of the site, including theimposing profiles of individual EU-EOMmonitors for Elections 2007, as well asdetailed reports of all stages of the 2007elections, one wonders how the site wasdeveloped and its contents uploaded:were they drawn from material gatheredduring few days visit to Nigeria? Werethey written in liaison with local electionmonitors and civil society? Were theywritten by some invisible observers?

On the other hand, local observers were,and have always been, left to their owndevices in observing elections and re-porting them. Though some, such as theGroup, have limited access to ‘overseas’media and internet, overall local moni-tors were constrained from communicat-ing their concerns to the wider world.Within Nigeria, too, their voice wasseemingly scuttled by the one-party stateand state-controlled media houses. Nev-ertheless, Nigeria’s private media havegiven some attention to local observersand some too, have developed in-housenewsletters in which reports and pressreleases are regularly published anddisseminated.

Finally, it is worthy of note that financialsupport for local monitors, including theGroup, came mainly from foreign donors– particularly the EU, the DFID Govern-ance Fund, Office of Transition Initia-tives of the USIS, German Embassy,International Federation of Electoral Sys-tems, International Republican Institute,National Endowment for Democracy etc.Yet some issues arise from this trend.First, foreign funding comes with a hugemoral, economic and political burden.Local monitors have to channel a signifi-

cant proportion of their energy chasingand justifying funds and pleasing do-nors. Second, because of foreign funding,local monitors and civil society riskedsuspicion and red tape from state actorsand ‘gatekeepers’ – particularly in theprovision of access and safety to moni-tors. Too often, they were branded as asell-out or ‘saboteurs living on the hand-outs of foreigners and helping them toachieve their sinister motives of de-stabilising Nigeria’.

The truth is, local monitors are neithersaboteurs nor sell-outs: they are a middleclass elements struggling to both executea national duty (election monitoring)and make ends meet in a competitiveworld.

Conclusion

The Nigerian 2007 general election dem-onstrates two nuanced arguments, eachframed by, and based on, contrastingpositioning of actors in state (includingits international peers) and civil society(local and foreign observers). On the onehand, despite the failure of the elections,the political class and state institutionsunrepentantly defended the electionclaiming that half a loaf of bread is betterthan none. Their aim, of course, was tosustain the status quo – PDP-dominatedpolitical victory. Here, democratic moral-ity and political correctness are irrel-evant: they could be sacrificed to savehegemony. On the other hand, local andforeign election monitors who observedthe election first hand and witnessed acolossal amount of fraud and violence,vehemently rejected it – defying theirprevious leniency, for instance, in 1999when they conceded that in spite ofirregularities, there is a scope to learnlessons after two decades of militarydictatorship.

In 2007, observer groups were unani-mously united and furious with thefailure, indeed unwillingness, of thepolitical class to conduct free and fair

elections. Nevertheless, beyond the vinylof unity between foreign and local moni-tors, there are issues about striking dis-parities between the two in terms of theiraccess to funding, methodology andinformation dissemination. Obviously,while local monitors, deploying 50,000observers, were largely left to their owndevices, their foreign counterparts – someof whom actually employed a dozenmonitors – had a field day drivingluxurious jeeps, carrying exotic techno-logical gadgets and concentrating incities (as opposed to remote parts of thecountry where irregularities were farworse). At issue is the inequality be-tween a much resourced and publicisedforeign monitor on the one hand, and anunder-resourced and less publicised lo-cal monitor, on the other.

Usman Tar, e-mail: [email protected].

Bibliography

Albin-Lackey, C. & B. Rawlence (2007),‘What’s next for Nigeria? The whole concept ofAfrican democracy is at risk’, Guardian Unlimitedavailable: http://commentisfree.guardian.co.uk/chris_albinlackey_and_ben_rawlence/2007/05/whats_next_for_nigeria.html,accessed 8 May.

INEC (2007), ‘Solid Foundation Laid for FutureElections’, available http://www.inecnigeria.org/newsview.php? newsid= 316 accessed 4June 2007.

Local Election Observers Group (LEOG) (2007),‘An Election Programmed to Fail: PreliminaryReport on the Presidential and NationalAssembly Elections Held on Saturday, 21 April2007’, Abuja: LEOG.

Nigerian PovertyIncidence, Provincial & National

Trends (1996, 2004)

State 1996 2004

Abia 56.2 22.27Adamawa 65.5 71.73Akwa Ibom 66.9 34.82Anambra 51.0 20.11Bauchi 83.5 86.29Bayelsa 44.3 19.98Benue 64.2 55.33Borno 66.9 53.63Cross River 66.9 41.61Delta 56.1 45.35Ebonyi 51.0 43.33Edo 56.1 33.09Ekiti 71.6 42.27Enugu 51.0 31.12Gombe 83.5 77.01Imo 56.2 27.39Jigawa 71.0 95.07Kaduna 67.7 50.24Kano 71.0 61.29Katsina 77.7 71.06Kebbi 83.6 89.65Kogi 75.5 88.55Kwara 75.5 85.22Lagos 53.0 63.58Nassarawa 62.7 61.59Niger 52.2 63.90Ogun 69.9 31.73Ondo 71.6 42.14Osun 58.7 32.35Oyo 58.7 24.08Plateau 62.7 60.37Rivers 44.3 29.09Sokoto 83.9 76.81Taraba 65.5 62.15Yobe 66.9 83.25Zamfara 83.9 80.93FCT 53.0 43.32All Nigeria 65.6 54.4

Source: National Bureau of Statistics Nigeria LivingStandards Survey, 2004 available: http://www.nigerianstat.gov.ng/nlss/2006/index.html



The Ogaden NationalLiberation Front (ONLF):The Dilemma of itsStruggle in EthiopiaAbdi M. Abdullahi

The international media has paid very littleattention to the Somali region of Ethiopia,also known as the ‘Ogaden’, mainly as aresult of the region’s remoteness and periph-eral status. Nevertheless, the recent OgadenNational Liberation Front (ONLF) attack ona Chinese oilfield in Obolo village in theDhagabour zone, and the current Ethiopianand American coalition under the global waron terror in the Horn of Africa, sheds lightupon the continuing conflict in the region.

The general attitude among Ethiopianhighlanders towards the Somalis in theregion is ambivalent as there have al-ways been disputes between Ethiopiaand Somalia. Consequently, the Somaliregion has been chronically affected byviolent conflict since its incorporationinto the Ethiopian state in 1888. Therehave been several periods of local andregional conflict, including full-scale warbetween Ethiopia and Somalia in 1977/78 over the Ogaden. Despite the victoryof Ethiopia over Somalia, the govern-ment continued to sponsor the WesternSomali Liberation Front (WSLF), the lead-ing liberation movement at the time of theEthiopia–Somalia war. Nonetheless,WSLF was affected by the withdrawal ofSomalia government support when bothmilitary governments in Somalia andEthiopia signed a peace agreement toend the hostilities in Djibouti in 1988.1

However, the WSLF was also challengedinternally by a ‘front within a front’ ledby young Ogaden intellectuals, whobelieved that Ogaden destiny had to bedecided by what they call ‘Ogaadeenia’,rather than the Somali government andtheir client organisation WSLF. Thisconviction of Ogaadeenism led to thebirth of ONLF in the Gulf States in March

1984.2 Nevertheless, the ONLF was inac-tive in the region until the militaryregime in Ethiopia was overthrown bythe Tigrai People’s Liberation Front(TPLF) in 1991.

The political transformation in Ethiopialed by the TPLF in 1991 appears to havebeen a watershed moment for the Somalipeople when they apparently gainedtheir own full regional autonomy for thefirst time in Ethiopian history. BothONLF and WSLF participated in thetransitional government led by the Ethio-pian People’s Revolutionary DemocraticParty (EPRDF). During the heyday of thetransitional period, ONLF secured themajority of the first regional councilelection in 1992.3 Abdullahi MohamedSacdi, one of the founders of ONLF, wasappointed by the council as the regionalpresident over the Somali ‘Region 5’.

However, the relationship between theEPRDF government in Addis Ababa andONLF was unstable due to ONLF’sassertive ‘secessionist’ policy opposedby the regime. As decentralisation basedon ethnic federalism was introduced inEthiopia, almost each Somali clan in theregion rushed to set up a political party.4

Among them were the Democratic UnityParty, the Ethiopian Somali DemocraticMovement, and the Democratic Action.However, ONLF considered this to beundermining their role in the region, andopted out of participation in the constitu-tional process in 1994. They demandedfull self-determination for Somalis in theregion, arguing that the Ogaden regionwas colonised by the successive Ethio-pian regimes, and therefore requiredspecial attention from the government.5

As a result, ONLF influenced the re-gional councils under the leadership oflate Hassan Jire Qalinle, and unani-mously voted for the self-determinationof the people in the region in 1994. TheEPRDF government actively tried to neu-tralise ONLF by engaging the traditionalelders and other non-Ogaadeen Somaliclans to form their own political party,

Deri Dawa, in Huurso in 1994. This ledto the formation of the Ethiopian SomaliDemocratic League (ESDL).

Meanwhile, ONLF was divided into twomajor groups. The first was hardlinerwing led by Sheik Ibrahim Abdalla, whoresided in the Gulf States. The govern-ment banned this group, who later wenton to fight with the EPRDF regime. Thesecond wing was an ‘accommodationist’led by Bashir Abdi Hassan,6 who partici-pated in the new ethnic federalism proc-esses in Ethiopia. The EPRDF backed thelatter group, who later merged withESDL under the leadership of the late DrAbdulmajid Hussein and formed thecurrent ruling party of the Somali re-gional government – the Somali People’sDemocratic Party (SPDP).

Rebellion

The outlawed wing regrouped and ap-pointed Admiral Mohamed OmarOsman, a retired Somalia marine, astheir Chairman in 1998. Their stated aim

is to liberate the Ogaden people fromEthiopia by creating an independentstate called ‘Ogaadeenia’.7 Initially,ONLF attempted to mobilise the mem-bers of the Ogaadeen clan against whatthey consider to be the historical coloni-sation and marginalisation of theOgaadeen by the Ethiopian state. Never-theless, while the organisation claimedto represent the entire Somali people inthe region, other non-Ogaadeen clans,including the Jidwaaq, Iise, Garre and‘minority’ clans and groups, withheldtheir support since they perceived ONLFas an exclusively Ogaadeeni politicalbody. For them, supporting ONLF’sstruggle meant empowering Ogaadeendomination in the region. Consequently,some allied with the government, whileothers took a ‘wait and see’ approach.This is linked to various factors, one ofwhich is the controversial name‘Ogaden’, which these clans consider tobe the name of a clan rather than land orterritory. However, ONLF defied eitherchanging or dropping the name by in-sisting that ‘Ogaden’ signifies a territory

Briefings: The ONLF: The Dilemma of its Struggle in Ethiopia 557


and land, and hence it is the internation-ally recognised name of the region.

Because of this rift, OLNF forces arepredominantly fighting in areas that areinhabited by the Ogaadeen clan, such asDhagahbour, Fiiq, Godey, Qorahay andWardheer zones. Their strategy is basedon carrying out hit-and-run attacksagainst the government army, whichcontrols the main towns in these areas,while the ONLF is in charge of the‘bush’. Both the government and ONLFclaim victory over the fighting in theregion, but no independent body verifiedthese claims.8 An ONLF member that Iinterviewed recently stated:

EPRDF failed to defeat us and we alsofailed to remove them from our territory,and therefore we are drawn.

In conventional warfare the ONLF insur-gents are no match for the might of theEthiopian army. However, the ongoingconflict does have a significant impactupon the region, especially the civilianpopulation. In the words of an oldSomali saying, ‘When the elephants fightthe grass gets trampled.’

It is reported that both the governmentarmy and ONLF insurgents commit hu-man rights abuses against civilians.There have long been periodic reports ofthe government army arresting and as-sassinating individuals accused of be-ing ONLF supporters, as well as otherinstances of extra-judicial killings.9

Equally, the ONLF carries out the assas-sination and kidnapping of citizens whooppose their policies. A good example isthe recent assassination of SuldanIbrahim Ali Saafi – traditional chief ofIbrahim, a sub-clan of Makaahil ofOgaadeen – and six of his fellow men inthe Aado village of the Wardher districtin early 2006. During this attack, ONLFalso injured and kidnapped dozens ofcivilians.10

On the other hand, the current EPRDFgovernment is yet to win the hearts andminds of the people in region. Thisfailure is linked to various reasons. First,the people in the region have not experi-enced the benefits of the Ethiopian statesince the region beyond the urban cen-tres of Jigjiga has been a highly milita-rised zone. For instance, basic publicservices such as infrastructure, educa-tion, water and health are limited, if notalmost entirely absent, in most of theregion. As a ‘pastoralist livelihoods studyon the Somali region’ carried out byStephen Devereux in 2006 indicated, thegovernment of Ethiopia does not evenknow how many primary and secondaryschools are in the region.11 It is believedthat this absence of state benefits andservices in the region alienates the localpeople, and leaves no option but tosupport the insurgents, perpetuating theviolent conflict. Also, regional adminis-tration has been highly affected by seri-ous political instability and weakadministration, despite decentralisationbased on ethnic federalism. For instance,almost every two or three years for thepast decade, the ruling party has re-placed the regional president with a newone with the blessing of the centralgovernment.

Internal Crises

There has been growing leadership divi-sion between ONLF’s ChairmanMohamed Omar Osman, Vice ChairmanAbdukadir Hassan Hiirmoge (Adani),General Secretary Mohamed Ismail, andfifteen members led by Dr MohamedSirad Dolaal, Head of the Planning andResearch Department of ONLF. TheChairman dismissed 11 ONLF centralcommittee members in 2006, and thedismissed group argues that the deci-sion is unconstitutional and that theChairman does not have any legitimacyto take such action since his term ofchairmanship had expired and he failedto seek approval from the general assem-

bly of the organisation. According to DrDolaal:

A declaration has been issued by fifteenmembers. In that statement, it has beendeclared that the chairman and his twodeputies were suspended from the organi-sation for violating the constitution re-spectively. Instead, the declarationappointed to supreme council until thegeneral congress to take over the leader-ship of the organisation.

As part of the above leadership struggle,this political rift is also due to theChairman being accused of having asecret deal with the president of theTransitional Federal Government (TFG)in Somalia (Abdullahi Yusuf Ahmed) tomediate the Ethiopian government andONLF in early 2006.12

Although some low-profile attempts weremade by some central committee mem-bers of ONLF to bring the two groupscloser, it is still doubtful whether such amove will resolve the current politicaltensions in the organisation. Some cen-tral committee members who called them-selves ‘neutral’ organised a conferencein Copenhagen in December 2006 inorder to resolve the deepening politicalcrisis. After drawn-out dialogue, bothgroups agreed to select an ad hoc commit-tee that would investigate whether thedismissal of the committee members waslegal, as well as how and when thegeneral assembly of the organisationwould take place. While they endorsedthe selected technical committee, Chair-man Osman intervened in the committeeby replacing three members of the com-mittee. The opponent of the Chairmanconsiders this move as a way to extendhis powers to influence the committee.Although the final decision of the com-mittee is expected to come out this month,it seems unlikely that they will be able toresolve these internal political crises.

The recent surrender of high-rankingofficials to the Ethiopian government,

including Suldan Adan Yusuf Tani andSulub Ali Abas, along with their militias,deepens the crisis in the ONLF leader-ship political rift. Recent reports from theregion indicate that further ONLF mili-tias have handed themselves over to thegovernment.13 These ‘defections’ havedamaged the overall unity of the ONLFstruggle. In particular, Suldan Taani’sdefection was a serious blow, as a formerONLF representative in Eritrea who heldvarious significant positions in the or-ganisation. He is seen by the EPRDFgovernment as a valuable asset to crackdown on insurgent movements in theregion. Suldan Taani has already set uphis own militia to wage war againstONLF in Wardher zone. There have beenserious clashes between the federaltroops, the local militia (Tadaqi) andONLF insurgents in Dartoole, Farhareeriand Biladaye in the Danoot district inearly May 2007.14

Because of this political rift, the leader-ship of the organisation is divided. Forexample, key diaspora grassroots activi-ties, some insurgent members in theregion, and the main communicationfacilities of ONLF, including radio free-dom (Xoriyo) in Germany, are under theleadership of Dr Dolaal and his team,while the rest are still in the hands ofChairman Osman.15

Despite this growing division – andperhaps because of it – the ONLF signedan agreement with the Oromo LiberationFront (OLF) and the Coalition of Union ofDemocracy (CUD) on 21 May 2006,wherein they formed a New Alliance forFreedom and Democracy (AFD).16 Thestated aim of this AFD alliance is to workthrough a democratic approach andconduct a peaceful struggle against theEPRDF government. This alliance callsinto question the political programme ofthe ONLF, since some of its AFD alliessuch as the CUD would question theONLF’s secessionist aspirations. More-over, critics argue that the process of theAFD alliance agreement was a bit trans-



parent, with only few individuals takingthe decision to endorse the AFD agree-ment without consultation and discus-sion with key ONLF members.

External Factors

Initially, the ONLF has been gettingsupport from its members and grassrootsactivities in order to maintain its struggleagainst the Ethiopian government. How-ever, as available reports indicate, thishas changed since the onset of the borderconflict between Eritrea and Ethiopia in1998-2000. Because of this, the Eritreangovernment offered support by supply-ing arms to army opposition in Ethiopia,including the OLF and ONLF, via thewarlord Hussein Aided during 1999/2000.17 And, more recently, the ONLFreceived military support from Eritreathrough the Union of Islamic Courts inSouthern Somalia.

Nevertheless, recent Ethiopian interven-tion in Somalia has also had a negativeimpact upon the ONLF army’s struggle.Obviously, the collapse of the Union ofIslamic Courts (UICs) was seen by thegovernment to be a severe blow to theONLF movement in the region, thoughONLF officials deny the existence of anyrelationship with the UIC. It is widelyreported, however, that there were al-leged ONLF members detained by theKenyan government on the border be-tween Somalia and Kenya. They werelater handed over to the Ethiopian gov-ernment via the Transitional FederalGovernment (TFG) in Somalia. Amongthem are Bashir Makhtal, a CanadianNational, Abdullahi Osman, Ali SafiJama, and Hussein Awnur Garaase.18

On the other hand, it is reported that theEritrean government revitalised the op-position forces to a form a coalitionagainst the EPRDF regime and the TFGin Somalia, including ONLF, OLF, UICmembers and some of the TFG members,such as Hussein Aidid and Sharif Hassan– the former TFG house speaker.19 They

appointed Sheik Sharif Ahmed as theleader of the new coalition. Nonetheless,the ONLF officials in Asmara were reluc-tant to endorse this move by arguing thattheir case was independent of any state,and thereby they cannot be part of aSomalia coalition.

Oil Factor

Prior to the recent Chinese-managedmineral explorations in the region, therehad been a number of unsuccessful oilexploration attempts carried out byAmerican oil companies such as Sinclair,Tenneco and Sicor since 1948, especiallyin the Jeexdin locality of the Shilabodistrict. In 1974, a Russian gas companycalled Calub took over oil exploration inthe region and symbolically changed thename Jeexdin to Calub. Other Malaysianand Indian oil companies also attemptedto conduct oil explorations in the regionwith the backing of the central govern-ment in 2004.20 Nonetheless, most ofthese attempts were unsuccessful be-cause of the insecurity and the violentconflict. Equally, the absence of effectiveand coherent policy for the central gov-ernment to carry out holistic and practi-cal operations to utilise natural resources– including the Jeexdin/Calub gas field– contributed to the limited developmentof this project. For instance, the establish-ment of the refinery factory in Awash forJeexdin/Calub gas, 700km away fromthe project site, not only alienates thelocal people from benefiting from whatthey consider to be their own resource,but at such a distance it is also impracti-cal.

China’s Zhongyan Petroleum Explora-tion Company began oil explorationoperations at a new site – Obolo villageof Dagahbour district – in early 2006with 200 Chinese and local staff. TheONLF considered this intervention as anintrusion, and in 2006 warned foreignoil exploration firms not to intervene inthe Somali region. However, the govern-ment dismissed this as a baseless claim.21

The recent ONLF attack on the Chineseoilfield in Obolo calls into question thegovernment’s claims to pacify the region.On 26 April 2007 the ONLF mounted anattack on the Chinese oil exploration site,killing 65 Ethiopians (32 of whom wereof Somali ethnic origin) and 9 Chinese; 7others were kidnapped but later freed.22

Although the ONLF officially acceptedresponsibility, the government severelycriticised this action as a terrorist attack.However, the motive behind this attackwas not merely rebellion against unau-thorised Chinese intervention, as claimedby ONLF, but also to assassinate a localcontractor, Ibrahim Xaad, who was op-posed to ONLF activities in the Dagah-bour zone.

Due to this incident and the responses ofthe government to it, clashes between thegovernment army and ONLF insurgentsin Qalafo, Danoot and Dagahbour haveincreased. Journalists are banned fromreporting the incidents, and therefore itis difficult to verify who has the upperhand in this violent conflict. Even thosewho attempt to visit the region are eitherarrested by the government army ordeported. One example is the govern-ment’s arrest of three American New YorkTimes journalists who were in Dagahbourto report the violent conflict in the region,later freed by the government.23 Moreo-ver, on 29 May 2007, simultaneous blastsoccurred in Jigjiga and Dagahbour, andkilled 11 people and wounded the So-mali regional president. It is unclear whowas behind them. The governmentblamed the strike on the ONLF, thoughONLF has denied any involvement inthose blasts.24

Peaceful Settlement

With regard to the prospect for peacesettlement between the government andONLF, experience in the Somali regionindicates that neither the EPRDF govern-ment nor ONLF is committed to resolv-ing their differences at the table. Both usezero-sum approaches. The government

does not consider the ONLF insurgentsas a serious threat, while the ONLFmaintains its separatist ideology. How-ever, behind the curtain, the governmentpushes low-profile diplomatic attempts.More recently, some traditional eldersfrom the Somali region attempted tomediate between the government andONLF in order to resume negotiations.Some of the elders even visited Europeand North America to meet with ONLFofficials, but this attempt failed afterONLF officials refused to come to thenegotiating table without the presence ofan international neutral mediator, anidea that has been resisted by the Ethio-pian government for the last decade. Theprospect for peace does not only dependupon a comprehensive agreement overthe region but also the wider stability inthe Horn of Africa.

Abdi M Abdullahi, Freelance Researcher;e-mail: [email protected]

Endnotes

1. Hagmann, Tobias & M. H. Khalif (2006),‘State and politics in Ethiopia’s Somali regionsince 1991’, Bildhaan: An International Journal ofSomali Studies, Vol. 6, pp. 25-49.

2. Markakis, John (1994), ‘The Somali in the newpolitical order of Ethiopia’, Review of AfricanPolitical Economy, Vol. 23, No.70, pp. 469-474.

3. Samatar, A. I. (2004), ‘Ethiopian federalism:Autonomy versus control in the Somali region’,Third World Quarterly, Vol. 25, no. 6, pp. 1131-1154.

4. See Markakis, John.

5. Mohamed, A. A. (2001), ‘The forgotten andneglected human rights: Somali region ofEthiopia’, Symposium on human rights abusesin the Somali region of Ethiopia, University ofToronto, 13 November 2001.

6. See Hagmann, T. & Mohamud H. Khalif.

7. Ogaden National Liberation Front, ‘Views ofthe Ogaden people under Ethiopian colonialism2007’, http://www.onlf.org/press_foreignRelations_jan282007.htm, accessed on 24 April2006.

8. Khalif, M. H. & M. Doorbnos (2002), ‘TheSomali region in Ethiopia: A neglected human



rights tragedy’, Review of African Political Economy,Vol. 29, No. 91, pp. 73-94.

9. See the Bureau of Democracy, Human rightsand labour: ‘Ethiopia; Country reports on humanrights Practices’, 2005, US Department of State,online report: http://www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/hrrpt/2005/61569.htm, accessed on 2 April2007.

10. To add insult to injury, the chairman of theorganisation officially accepted the killing of theSuldan in December 2006, alleging the Suldanwas a collaborator of their enemy, the Ethiopianregime. However, it is reported that the Suldanwas a peaceful person who was dedicated tomaintaining peace and stability among the Somaliclans in the region. Interview with MohamedOmar Osman, BBC Somali Service, December2006; http://www.radioxoriyo.com, accessedon 12 April 2007.

11. See Devereux, S. (2007), ‘Cashing in or cashout? Pastoralists’ livelihoods in Somali region,Ethiopia’, International Conference: Living onthe Margins: Vulnerability, Social exclusion andthe State in the Informal Economy, Cape Town:Institute of Development Studies.

12. Ibid.

13. Walta Information Centre, ‘ONLF founder,CC member accuses organisation of becomingmercenary of Shaebiya, Somali extremists, AddisAbaba, Ethiopia’, 4 December 2006.

14. Wardheernews.com. News report on thefighting between the government army andONLF in Danoot District of Wardher, http://www.wardheernews.com/News_07/May/30_xiisad_wardheer.html, accessed 29 May2007.

15. Interview: Anonymous, 15 April 2004,London, UK.

16. Plaut, M. (2007), ‘Ethiopia’s OromoLiberation Front’, Review of African PoliticalEconomy, Vol. 33, No.109, pp. 587-593.

17. ICG (2006), ‘Can the Somalia crisis becontained?’ in Report N°116, International CrisesGroup.

18. Amnesty International (2007), ‘Ethiopia:Incommunicado detention / fear of torture orill-treatment / health concern, http://www.amnesty.org/library/Index/ENGAFR 250052007, accessed 18 April 2007.

19. Voice of America news reports: ‘CoalitionFormed Against Somalia’s Transitional Government’, 8 June 2007, http://www.voanews.com/english/2007-06-08-voa39.cfm, accessed on 8June 2007.

20. Hagmann. T. (2005), ‘Challenges ofdecentralisation in Ethiopia’s Somali region’,Review of African Political Economy, Vol. 32, No.104, pp. 449-454.

21. Global Insight, ‘Chinese Oil Workers Targetedin Latest Terror Raid in Ethiopia’, http://www.globalinsight.com/SDA/SDADetail9054.htm, accessed 4 May 2007.

22. Ibid.

23. BBC World Service, ‘Ethiopia Releases USJournalist’, 23 May 2007.

24. Reuters News Report: ‘Ethiopia arrests fiveover Somali region’, 29 May 2007.

Africa: Green Revolution orRainbow Evolution?Carol B. Thompson

Kofi Annan has just agreed to head theAlliance for a Green Revolution in Africa,funded by the Bill and Melinda GatesFoundation and the Rockefeller Foundation.The goals of these foundations are ambitious.‘Our initial estimate is that over ten years,the program for Africa’s seed systems (PASS)should produce 400 improved crop varietiesresulting in a 50 percent increase in the landarea planted with improved varieties across20 African countries,’ reads the initiative’spress release. ‘We have also initially esti-mated that this level of performance willcontribute to eliminating hunger for 30-40million people and sustainably move 15-20million people out of poverty.’

But can Africa afford this proposed‘green revolution’ in terms of humanhealth and environmental sustainability?The foundation goals require resourcesthat the continent does not have whilederogating the incredible wealth it doespossess. Although scientists, agricultur-alists and African governments all agreethat the continent has not remotelyreached its agricultural potential, their

Briefings: Africa: Green Revolution or Rainbow Evolution? 563

advocated policies for food sovereigntydrastically diverge from the high-tech,high-cost approach promoted by Gatesand Rockefeller.

In 2002, while UN secretary general, KofiAnnan asked, ‘How can a green revolu-tion be achieved in Africa?’ After morethan a year of study, the appointedexpert panel of scientists (from Brazil,China, Mexico, South Africa and else-where) replied that a green revolutionwould not provide food security becauseof the diverse types of farming systemsacross the continent. There is ‘no singlemagic technological bullet … for radi-cally improving African agriculture,’ theexpert panel reported in its strategicrecommendations. ‘African agricultureis more likely to experience numerous“rainbow evolutions“ that differ in na-ture and extent among the many sys-tems, rather than one Green Revolutionas in Asia.’ Now Annan has agreed tohead the kind of project his advisors toldhim would not work.

Behind the Green Revolution

The green revolution of the 1970s pro-moted increased yields based on a modelof industrial agriculture defined as amonoculture of one or two crops, whichrequires massive amounts of both ferti-liser and pesticide as well as the pur-chase of seed. Although this approach tofood production might feed more peoplein the short term, it also quickly destroysthe earth through extensive soil degrada-tion and water pollution from pesticidesand fertilisers. It ruined small-scale farm-ers in Asia and Latin America who couldnot afford to purchase the fertilisers,pesticides, and water necessary for thehybrid seed or apply these inputs in theexact proportions and at the exact times.To pay their debts, the farmers had to selltheir land.

Increasing yields to provide food for thehungry remains the central justificationfor a green revolution. But as the expert

panel above analysed in great detail,increased yields of one or two strains ofone or two crops (‘monoculture withinmonoculture’, as stated by a Tanzanianbotanist) will not solve Africa’s foodproblems. Africa’s diverse ecological sys-tems, and even more diverse farmingsystems, require multiple initiatives, fromintercropping on to permaculture, fromrespecting and using traditional ecologi-cal knowledge to training and equippingmore African geneticists. The UN Foodand Agriculture Organization, for exam-ple, now promotes farmers’ breedingseeds (in situ) as a better conservationmeasure than collecting seed for refrig-eration in a few large seed banks (exsitu). The very best food seed breeders inAfrica, the ‘keepers of seed’, are womenwho often farm less than one hectare ofland.

The key to ending hunger is sustainingAfrica’s food biodiversity, not reducingit to industrial monoculture. Currently,food for African consumption comesfrom about 2,000 different plants, whilethe US food base derives mainly from 12plants. Any further narrowing of thefood base makes us all vulnerable be-cause it increases crop susceptibility topathogens, reduces the variety of nutri-ents needed for human health, and mini-mises the parent genetic materialavailable for future breeding.

Seeds are a key element in the equation.One figure not often quoted among thedepressing statistics from the continentis that African farmers still retain controlover this major farming input: of the seedused for food crops, 80% is saved seed.Farmers do not have to buy seed everyseason, with cash they do not have. Theypossess a greater wealth – their indig-enous seeds, freely shared and devel-oped over centuries. The proposed greenrevolution would shift the food baseaway from this treasure of seed. Instead,African farmers would have to purchaseseed each season, thus putting cash intothe hands of the corporations providing


the seed. Is there a way of developingnew varieties without further enrichingMonsanto or DuPont by removing ge-netic wealth from African farmers?

Corporate development of new seed vari-eties, as promoted by the foundations,raises other questions. Will the newvarieties be patented or protected byfarmers’ rights? Who will own andcontrol the seed? One major reason forthe decline of the World Trade Organiza-tion (WTO) is the global South’s resist-ance to patenting life forms. In 1999, theAfrican Union, representing all Africangovernments, asked that its unanimousresolution rejecting any patenting on lifebe put on the agenda at the Seattle WTOmeeting. The United States refused therequest.

Another source of African wealth de-rives from indigenous ecological knowl-edge, reflecting centuries of adaptationto the different ecological zones, whichvalues interspersing different plants toenrich the soil and deter pests from foodcrops. Shade trees, often cut down toopen the land for monoculture farming,are not necessarily in the way of aploughing tractor. African farmers havethe knowledge to use these trees as windbreaks, medicine, habitats for biodiverseinsect communities, and food for all.

This wealth of knowledge raises anotherquestion: whether the African continentneeds newly manufactured varieties offood crops, or is the problem the lack ofscientific recognition and market valu-ing of what African farmers have culti-vated for centuries? Does the colourgreen in this Green Revolution favourcrops known and owned by the globalNorth?

Sorghum is one example of a crop lost tomarkets in the global North but not toAfrica. On the continent, it is planted inmore hectares than all other food cropscombined. As nutritious as maize forcarbohydrates, vitamin B6, and food

energy, sorghum is more nutritious inprotein, ash, pantothenic acid, calcium,copper, iron, phosphorus, isoleucine,and leucine. One of the most versatilefoods in the world, sorghum can beboiled like rice, cracked like oats forporridge, baked like wheat into flat-breads, popped like popcorn for snacks,or brewed for nutritious beer.

Although indigenous knowledge de-signed these diverse and rich uses ofsorghum, most contemporary scientistshave ignored its genetic wealth. ‘Sor-ghum is a relatively undeveloped cropwith a truly remarkable array of graintypes, plant types, and adaptability,’concludes the National Research Coun-cil in the United States. ‘Most of itsgenetic wealth is so far untapped andeven unsorted. Indeed, sorghum prob-ably has more undeveloped genetic po-tential than any other major food crop inthe world.’

Engaging African scientists to discoverthe potential genetic wealth of sorghumwould assist African food security. In afirst glimpse of foundation expenditures,however, we see funds directed to theWambugu Consortium (founded by Pio-neer Hi-Breed, part of DuPont) for experi-ments in genetically modified sorghum.By adding a gene, rather than mining thegenetic wealth already there, the consor-tium can patent and sell the ‘new’variety at a premium price for DuPont.

Toward Sustainability

Given the well-documented destructionof the previous green revolution, what ifwe decided that Africa’s lack of use offertiliser is a sign of sustainable develop-ment not of backwardness? Africa’s useof chemical fertilisers is extremely low:nine kilograms per hectare in sub-Sa-hara Africa, compared to 135 kilogramsper hectare in East and Southeast Asia,100 kilograms in South Asia, and anaverage of 206 kilograms in industrial-ised countries. Originating from excess

nitrogen production left over after WorldWar Two, the massive use of chemicalfertilisers defined industrial agriculturein the 20th century. Surely for the 21stcentury, yields can be increased withoutsuch a high cost of African environmen-tal degradation.

The African continent also uses differentterminology from that of the green revo-lution. Instead of food security, Africanvoices articulate the goal of food sover-eignty. Food sovereignty expresses resist-ance to the notion that food security canbe provided by reliance on global mar-kets, where price and supply vagariescan be as capricious as African weather.Experiencing political manipulation ofglobal markets by the more powerful,African governments seek to control de-cisions about food sources, consideringsuch choices as vital to national sover-eignty.

African governments work to defendlocal, small-scale farmers from highlysubsidised farmers in the United Statesor Europe. In most of Africa – with SouthAfrica a notable exception - the majorityof the population still lives in rural areasand still derives their incomes fromfarming. Dislocation of farmers to con-solidate land for high-tech, green revolu-tion farming is as serious a threat aschemical pollution of the environment.

Should the green wealth of ecologicaland farming knowledge among localsmall-scale farmers be destroyed for thecash wealth of much fewer large-scalefarmers buying all their inputs fromforeign corporations?

Each African government will answerthe above questions about a green revo-lution differently. The diversity of poli-cies matches the diversity of the continent.Yet they all reject patenting of life formsand strive to attain food sovereignty.High-tech answers to Africa’s food cri-ses are no answers at all if they pollutethe environment with fertilisers and pes-

ticides, destroy small-scale farming, andtransform the genetic wealth of the conti-nent into cash profits for a few corpora-tions.

Carol B. Thompson, professor of politicaleconomy at Northern Arizona Univer-sity; e-mail: [email protected] more detailed analyses, see AndrewMushita and Carol B. Thompson,Biopiracy of Biodiversity published in2007 by Africa World Press. Thanks toForeign Policy In Focus (FPIF), a projectof the Institute for Policy Studies (IPS,online at www.ips-dc.org) for permis-sion to reprint this briefing.

Somalia: Amidst theRubble, a Vibrant Telecom-munications InfrastructureBob Feldman

Thirteen attempts to form a central gov-ernment in Mogadishu since 1991 havebeen thwarted by the parochial interestsof feuding warlords. Finally, in 2004,through a reconciliation project, the Tran-sitional Federal Government (TFG) wascreated, though it remains weak andunable to exert control in most of thecountry.1

Complicating matters for the new gov-ernment was the takeover of Mogadishu,the nation’s de facto capital, in mid-2006by the Islamic Courts Union, essentiallya fundamentalist group attempting toestablish sharia, Islamic law, in the coun-try. Much of the land’s infrastructure liesin ruins, serving as sources of scrapmetal to be bartered for basic necessities.The people are impoverished, theeconomy shattered. And, amidst the rub-ble and the juxtaposition of modern

Briefings: Somalia: Amidst the Rubble, a Vibrant Telecommunications Infrastructure 565


antenna it has one of the most vibrantand least expensive telecommunicationssectors in the world.

The description of Somalia in this brief-ing does not include Somaliland, abreakaway republic in the northwestwhich did maintain a government, andwhich wants to be recognised as anindependent country. This will be dis-cussed in further detail when comparingtelecommunications in Somalia to thosepresent in Somaliland. The word Soma-lia will also not be used to includePuntland, an area in the northeasternregion of the country, which has de-clared itself to be an autonomous state ofSomalia.

VSAT: First to Fill the Gap

Somalia had only 8,500 fixed lines in1990 to serve a countrywide populationof nearly 10 million.2 Even worse for therural population, most of these lineswere in the capital, Mogadishu. With theoverthrow of the Siad Barre regime thefollowing year the country devolved intoanarchy. Much of the infrastructure,including the Public Switch Transmis-sion Network, was destroyed. A largeportion of Somalia was literally cut offfrom the outside world, the people un-able to communicate with their friendsand relatives in the United States, Kenya,and other countries with large Somaliexpatriate communities.

Eventually satellite communication de-vices with very small aperture terminals(VSAT) were installed by private opera-tors to meet the demand. These devicesoften have antennas less than two metersin diameter, though some are consider-ably larger.3 They are a mature technol-ogy introduced in the 1980s, and nowcomprise hundreds of thousands of unitsinstalled worldwide.4 A typical VSATstar network configuration includes sev-eral components. Each user has a boxthat interfaces between their computerand an outdoor antenna. The antenna

serves as a transceiver, capable of send-ing signals to a satellite as well asreceiving them. When the first user sendsa message to the second, the informationgoes from user one’s terminal antenna tothe satellite and then down to an Earthstation hub. There it is sorted and sentback to the satellite where it will berelayed to the terminal antenna of thesecond user. Companies such as AT&Tand Tella were contracted by privateoperators to provide the transit facilities(earth station hubs) for incoming andoutgoing messages.

There are several possible reasonsVSAT’s were the first units to be utilisedto provide telecommunications capabili-ties in war torn Somalia. These include:

• They are relatively inexpensive,with some units available for ap-proximately $3,500.00;5 Units thatcan handle larger bandwidths, andthus exchange more data, are moreexpensive;

• They do not require a significantamount of additional infrastruc-ture;

• Their power requirements can bemet by small generators;

• They are readily available on theopen market;

• They are fairly durable, an impor-tant quality in a high heat, highhumidity environment such as So-malia. Failure to properly seal thecables, leading to loss of the signalwhen it rains, appears to be themain preventable problem afflict-ing them;6

• They are capable of handling data,voice over internet protocol or VOIP(allows for voice conversations ifadditional components are in-stalled), and video;

• VSAT is particularly well suited forcybercafes, an increasingly popu-lar telecom venue, where a smallnumber of computers, and perhapssome voice lines, are required;Cybercafes have the user come tothe private operator’s site, as op-posed to trying to provide the infra-structure necessary to bringtelecommunications capabilities tothe user’s home;

• They are expandable to meet in-creasing needs. Additional remoteterminals can be added on anessentially plug and play basis;These can readily be interconnectedwith existing PBX, LAN servers,and WAN telecommunications in-frastructure;7

• It offers the private operator neartotal independence from other com-panies. Thus, companies, at leastinitially, are free to develop with-out being dependent on the goodwill, or lack thereof, of other telecomoperators;

• VSAT lends itself to being shared.Thus, the VSAT of one operator caninteract with the VSAT of another;

• They are relatively small, makingthem easily transportable to siteswhere larger items, due to the lackof roads, could not be brought;

• They are relatively simple to set-upand operate. No extensive engi-neering knowledge, nearly impos-sible to find since the outbreak ofhostilities, is required. Those thatuse geosynchronous satellites re-quire an initial precise aiming ofthe antenna. Once the antenna isaimed, it generally does not requirefurther adjustment.8

The installation of additional telecom-munications infrastructure followed thesuccess of the early VSAT entrepreneurs.

Today, including Somaliland andPuntland, there are nine telecom compa-nies, over 105,000 fixed lines and nearly39,000 mobile lines.9 Telephone coveragenow extends to 87% of the country.

Cooperation Without Regulation

The lack of regulation following thecollapse of the central government meantanyone with a VSAT system could enterthe telecommunications market. Therewere no filings, public hearings, zoningnotices, or other governmental impedi-ments. Those who could fill the infra-structure vacuum were allowed to do so.However, without a government to pro-vide regulations, users of one company’sphones often could not connect withusers of a different company’s phones.For growth to be sustained cooperationwould have to occur.

The United Nations Development Pro-gram, which was encouraging privateenterprise in the region, recognised thechaotic situation. In cooperation withthe International TelecommunicationsUnion, it invited the heads of some of theprivate companies to a series of meetingsin Dubai. There, in November 1998, thecompanies formed the Somali TelecomAssociation. Being based in Dubai helpsmitigate fears of favouritism to any re-gion or operators. Also, since most of theSomali telecom companies already hadtheir offices in Dubai, it made for aconvenient location conducive to inter-action among them.

The Association is financed by its mem-bers and associates, with a mandate todevelop the telecommunications indus-try in Somalia. It has provided trainingboth overseas and in-house, to engineersand managers. Additionally, the asso-ciation represents Somalia at interna-tional telecommunications conferences.

According to Abdilghani Jama, Secretaryof the Association, the lack of connectiv-ity among the various companies was



due to a lack of trust. In a pilot project, theAssociation brought the local operatorstogether with international experts onthe economic benefits and costs of hav-ing interconnectivity. This led to thecompanies purchasing new equipmentand actually forming a jointly ownedentity. Now the residents of Mogadishuwho have phone service can talk witheach other, no longer hindered by a lackof connectivity among different opera-tors.

Comparison to Somaliland

Somalia was formed in 1960 by theunion of the northern Somaliland Protec-torate, formerly ruled by Britain, and thesouthern portion, known as Italian So-malia, named for its ties to its colonialruler. As the southern section delved intoanarchy in 1991, following the over-throw of the repressive Siad Barre dicta-torship, the northern section declaredthe union over, claiming itself to be asovereign entity and adopting the nameof Republic of Somaliland. Unlike thesouthern part of the country, the northretained a government. Its requests to berecognized as a separate sovereign coun-try, however, have so far fallen on deafears. Not a single foreign country recog-nizes it as such.

Somaliland, like its southern counter-part, has also enjoyed a rapid develop-ment in the telecommunications sector.In 1993 the country had a single phonecompany that only provided fixed phonelines. A decade later there were fourprivate telecommunication companiesoffering fixed, mobile, and internet serv-ices. However, those four companies inSomaliland, unlike the ones in Somalia,were unable or unwilling to invest thetime, effort, and money to provideinterconnectivity among themselves.

While Somalia, a country with no centralgovernment, driven by the profit motivesof its telecom operators developedinterconnectivity, Somaliland, with a cen-

tral government, did not. It is difficult tosay whether the Somaliland governmentwas the reason for this lack of coopera-tion, or if there were other factors. Still, itis an interesting demonstration that thepresence of a government does not neces-sarily lead to optimal economic benefitsfor its citizens. Furthermore, in an un-regulated society, such as exists in Soma-lia, a form of self-government, essentiallyself-regulation, for an individual sectorcan arise to provide optimal benefits.

Telecom Not a Terrorist Target

First and foremost are the overwhelmingwishes of the everyday people to be ableto communicate via telecommunicationswith one another. As Abdi KarimMohamed Eid, manager of Telesom, aprivate telecommunications company inSomaliland said, but with relevance tothe rest of Somalia, ‘In traditional Afri-can societies, it’s sometimes difficult forgovernment officials to embrace technol-ogy, but here, it is the people whodecide.’10 A particularly strong incentivein this is the dependency of many Soma-lis on remittances from their relativesand friends abroad. Much of this moneyis transferred via hawala, an informalhonour-based system. As an example, aperson could approach a hawala brokerin Minneapolis to transfer funds to some-one in Mogadishu. The first broker wouldthen contact a second broker in Somaliato deliver funds to the intended recipient.The first broker promises to settle thedebt at a later time.11 Since there is nolegal enforceability of claims, the systemcan function where there is no govern-ment. Maintaining a telecommunicationsinfrastructure facilitates the transfer ofsuch funds.

Certainly a significant share of thesemonies also makes their way to thehands of warlords, militias and terror-ists, helping to finance activities such asthe tremendous amount of arms traffick-ing in the country. An added benefit forsuch groups is that in some instances

hawala does not use any promissoryinstruments, making it difficult for out-side intelligence and police agencies totrace money transfers.

Thus, a large reason the telecom sector isnot just left alone but actually encour-aged by ‘terrorist’ organisations is that itcan serve as a major source of theirfunds, especially through money trans-fers. On 7 November 2001 the UnitedStates government designated alBarakaat, a bank based in Dubai thatwas also financially involved in thetelecommunications sector of Somalia,as a ‘terrorist’ entity.12 At one point, alBarakaat was the major money transferorganisation in Somalia. Paul O’Neill,then Secretary of the Treasury, describedthe company and its branches as such:

The al Barakaat companies are the moneymovers, the quartermasters of terror. Atcore, it is a hawala conglomerate operat-ing in 40 countries around the world withbusiness ventures in telecommunications,construction, and currency exchange.They are a principal source of funding,intelligence, and money transfers for binLaden.13

Since that statement some new develop-ments have occurred, including the re-moval from the ‘terrorist’ list of threeindividuals who had been accused ofchanneling funds through al Barakaat toal-Qaeda.14 This and other information(some of it questionable), has called intoquestion the exact degree the telecomsector facilitates funding of ‘terrorist’groups. However, while the specificamount may be contested, it does appearthat a portion of the money remitted toSomalia finds its way to terrorist groups.

There are additional reasons for terror-ists to be supportive of the telecommuni-cations infrastructure, particularly thehigh tech one that has grown in Somalia.Unlike the older fixed line telephoneswhich were relatively easy to tap, dis-rupt, and trace, the newer technologies

offer the potential for more anonymity.The mobile phone is rented, sometimes toseveral different users for short periods,in a cash only transaction, making itdifficult to determine which wirelessunit to place under surveillance. Thismulti-user arrangement also makes itdifficult to know who made a particularcall of interest.

With no police or legal system, the use ofthe telecom system to coordinate ‘terror-ist’ activities can occur without fear ofarrest in Somalia. Additionally, the pro-vision of internet access by at least threeof the telecom companies can allowSomalia-based terrorists to communicatevia the web to collaborators in othercountries. This means of sending mes-sages, sometimes subtly hidden inwebsites, has proven difficult at times touncover.

The use of telecommunications by ‘ter-rorists’, militias and warlords is so preva-lent in Somalia that these individualscan possibly be considered the de factogoverning body of that sector. Without atleast their tacit approval, the hardwareassociated with sending and receivingmessages would quickly be confiscated.Thus, while the warlords and terroristsmay not form an official sanctioningbody, their unwritten requirements, suchas making the internet available for fundtransfers, must be met. It’s quite possiblethat interconnectivity among the differ-ent systems is yet another directive dic-tated by warlords and terrorists. Sincesuch rules imposed upon the telecomsector are not readily apparent to theoutside observer, the appearance of a freemarket that is totally absent any regula-tion is probably an illusion since someregulation exists in the form of pressurefrom these organisations; it’s just notformally structured in a codified series oflaws, and appears not to cover suchareas as pricing and entry into themarket.



No Government, No Taxes, No-Man’s Land

Because there is no strong central gov-ernment, Somali telecoms do not have topay taxes. This, along with intense com-petition among the providers, has re-sulted in some of the cheapest call ratesin the world. Another result of nothaving a strong central government isthe ability of nearly any willing providerto establish a telecom company in thecountry. As Abdigani Jama, SecretaryGeneral of the Somali Telecom Associa-tion, says, ‘It’s a no-man’s land. Anyonecan bring in equipment and no licensesare required.’15

Despite such advantages, the telecomcompanies are generally anxious to see acentral government once again in Soma-lia. There are several reasons for this. Acentral government could reestablish aformal banking system, allowing bothcompanies and customers alike to bor-row in order to finance their telecomneeds. Also, regulations do not necessar-ily have to impede development, espe-cially if a significant portion of theirthrust is standardisation and compat-ibility. The private telecom operatorsthemselves chose to self-regulate so theycould have the benefit, and the increasedrevenue associated with it, of phonesfrom one system being capable of inter-acting with the phones from another.

Finally, there is the uncertainty thataccompanies a country without a gov-ernment. Today the warlords opt fortelecom, but who knows what seeminglycapricious reason might cause one or allof them to change their mind. The possi-ble reasons for intentional or uninten-tional disruption of telecommunicationsin Somalia are endless.

The Reestablishment ofGovernment: Future Unknown

Clues as to the possible shape of thetelecom sector in Somalia should a strong

central government be established can begleaned by examining other African coun-tries. Additional information can be ob-tained from the overall telephonystrategies for the continent, as providedby the Panos Report, ‘Completing theRevolution: the Challenge of Rural Te-lephony in Africa.’16 Following are somepossible changes that might be imple-mented:

1) An increased emphasis on providingtelecom services to the remaining ruralareas that do not presently have them.Because rural areas tend to have a lowpopulation density as well as a generallypoorer population than the cities, theprivate telecom sector sees few economicincentives to service them. It would fallon the government to provide such in-centives, perhaps through tax breaks(once the government starts taxingtelecom) or direct subsidies. Though theestablishment of telecom services in ru-ral areas may offer significant benefits,such as increased development, it is notalways an easy task to accomplish.Witness Senegal which signed a contractwith France Telecom in 1997 to helpprovide rural telephony to 1,000 villagesper year. Seven years later and they stillhad not connected even their one-yeargoal.17

2) A greater emphasis on mobile phonegrowth compared to fixed-line telephony.Mobile phone subscription in Africawithin the past five years has grownmore than any other region in the world.18

Indeed, throughout most of Africa theinstallation of mobile phone infrastruc-ture has taken a priority over the moreexpensive fixed-line infrastructure. Asan example, in Uganda the number ofmobile phone users multiplied 131 timesin a span of six years, becoming seventimes the users of fixed-lines.19 Similargrowth will probably occur in Somalia. Itis possible the government there willassist the expansion of mobile phoneusage by providing incentives, such asproperty rights or reduced taxes, to in-

stall relay towers and other necessaryinfrastructure in geographic areasdeemed less profitable by telecom opera-tors.

3) Taxation of telecom. It would bedifficult for the fledgling government notto look at one of the few successfulenterprises in the country as a source ofrevenue. However, rate increases due tothe imposition of taxes might eventuallybe offset by increased competition andsavings through economies of scale. Also,as previously mentioned, the govern-ment could structure the taxation in sucha way as to provide incentives for neces-sary infrastructure.

4) Continued growth. Establishment of astable government will encourage newbusinesses, many of which will requirephone and/or internet service. The gov-ernment itself will also have needs inthis area and, like many other countries,could become one of the major users oftelecommunications.

5) Expansion and enhancement of VSAT.Satellite technology will surely continueto play a role, perhaps the dominant one,in meeting the continued growth of thetelecom sector. Newer VSAT units willpossibly provide larger bandwidths, es-pecially if a power grid offering dedi-cated electrical service is created. Thelarger VSAT units require more electric-ity to operate.

6) Relocation of at least part of the SomaliTelecom Association from Dubai to So-malia itself. However, it would be likelythat the Association would retain apresence in the UAE. The fact that Dubaiis a hub for both telecom and hawala isprobably not a coincidence, with onebusiness feeding the other.

7) A possible decrease and/or shift in theway warlords and terrorists use telecom-munications. The new government willbe under pressure on the domestic frontto decrease the power and capabilities of

the warlords and on the internationalfront to do the same with terrorists. Bothgroups will probably find ways to adaptto technical or legal obstacles placed intheir way. This could involve applyingeither a high tech or a low tech approach,with the use of more sophisticated equip-ment being an example of the former andthe reliance on people as messengers anexample of the latter.

It is uncertain at this time whether or notfiberoptic cable will play a role in theimmediate future of telecom in Somaliaeven if a government is established.Fiberoptic offers two general advantagesover VSAT: it readily carries a largebandwidth and it does not have thesignal delay inherent in VSAT (thisoccurs from the signal having to travelfrom the ground station to the satelliteand back). However, it can be expensiveto lay cable, and few telecom providersare going to be willing to risk a largeinfrastructure investment in a countrythat has not shown stability for over adecade.

Conclusion

A large portion of Somalia was essen-tially a blank slate after 1991, but insteadof a gradual evolution (or re-evolution) oftelecommunications occurring, as hadhappened in the developed world, thecountry leapfrogged to wireless and otheradvanced technologies. Since successivegenerations of technology tend to be bothmore efficient and cost-effective thanprevious ones, it made perfect sense forthe country to reestablish its telecommu-nications network with flexible and rela-tively inexpensive VSAT as opposed tofixed phone lines. Thus, what appearsironic at first, high tech satellite linksarising in an impoverished country, isactually the most appropriate telecom-munications development path the coun-try could take.

As two simultaneous attempts are made,one by the Somalia Transitional Federal



Institutions and the other by the IslamicCourts Union, to once again to establisha central government in Somalia, it willbe interesting to observe the impact of anew government, or governments, ontelecommunications. Will they view it asone of the few viable sectors of theeconomy and excessively tax it, raisingrates to the point demand is significantlydampened? Will they try to control itwith well-intentioned regulations thathave the unfortunate consequence ofstifling the innovative and entrepre-neurial spirit it has exhibited? Whateverthe government does, they should not doit in haste. Instead, they should take thetime to study the telecom sector as aunique entity that has filled an impor-tant niche, and then look for ways toreplicate that success with other aspectsof the country’s infrastructure.

Bob Feldman, Major, USAR; e-mail:[email protected]

Endnotes

1. ‘Background Note – Somalia.,’ U.S. Departmentof State, Sep 2006, <http://www.state.gov/r/pa/ei/bgn/2863.htm> (19 Sep 2006).

2. ‘Surprise Success Story – Somalia’s Tele-communications Sector,’ Somaliawatch.org, 11 Jan2002, <http://www.somalitelecomgroup.com/news_b.php> (24 Jan 2005).

3. ‘VSAT Satellite,’ Nova Stars, 22 Nov 1998,<http://the-saudi.net/communication/vsat/>(14 Feb 2005).

4. ‘Why Use Satellite?’ Nova Stars, 22 Nov 1998,<http://the-saudi.net/communication/vsat/why_use_satellite.htm> (14 Feb 2005).

5. Personal communication with Phil Thomasfrom New Era Systems, a telecom provideroffering satellite service to Africa. <http://www.satsig.net/new-era-africa.htm>

6. Personal communication with an employeefrom a company providing satellite services toSomalia.

7. ‘Why Use Satellite?’

8. Personal communication with an employeefrom a company providing satellite services toSomalia.

9. Finbarr O’Reilly, ‘Private Competition DrivesDown Telephone and Internet Costs: But ChaoticSituation Highlights Need for Self Regulation,’Choices: UN Development Programme, Dec 2003,<http://www.undp.org/dpa/choices/2003/december/somalia_prfr.html> (25 Jan 2005)

10. Finbarr OReilly, ‘Private Competition DrivesDown Telephone and Internet Costs’.

11. ‘Hawala,’ Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia, 30Jan 2005, <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hawala> (19 Sep 2006).

12. ‘Al Barakaat Exchange LLC,’ Globalrisks.org,4 Sep 2003, <http://www.globalrisks.org/strategicintel/lawsuit_911/blalbarakaat.htm>(Jan 2005).

13. ‘Al Barakaat Exchange LLC.’

14. ‘US Drops Accusation that SomalisSupported Al Qaeda,’ World Socialist Web Site,Sep 2002, <http://www.wsws.org/articles/2002/sep2002/soma-s20_prn.shtml> (19 Sep2006).

15. ‘Surprise Success Story – Somalia’sTelecommunications Sector.’ Somaliawatch.org,28 Jan 2005. <http://www.somalitelecomgroup.com/news_b.php> (19 Sep 2006).

16. ‘Completing the Revolution: the Chal lengeof Rural Telephony in Africa,’ The Panos Institute,Apr 2004, <http://www.panos.org.uk/PDF/reports/Panos %20Report%20-%20 Completing%20the%20 Revolution.pdf#search=’somaliland% 20telecom%20operators’> (19 Sep2006).

17. Ibid.

18. Rodney Weidemann, ‘Africa’s Future isMobile,’ ITWeb. 10 Mar 2005. <http://allafrica.com/stories/200503100746.html> 10Mar 2005.

19. ‘Completing the Revolution: the Challenge ofRural Telephony in Africa.’

Desperate Days inZimbabweIan Phimister & Brian Raftopoulos

Go hang (Robert Mugabe, March 2007)

No matter how tough it gets ... we have anagreement, even if we are murdered wehave an agreement (to continue thestruggle) (Morgan Tsvangirai, March2007)

The current SADC mandated mediation onZimbabwe, led by President Thabo Mbeki ofSouth Africa, opens a narrow window ofopportunity to avoid further deterioration inZimbabwe’s political and economic fortunes.Brought about by a combination of growingregional embarrassment over Mugabe’s au-thoritarian violence and international pres-sure, the initiative is faced with enormousobstacles in the form of the persistent recalci-trance of decisive elements of the Mugaberegime. Nonetheless the mediation maypresent an opportunity to pry open newpolitical spaces in the country. Recent eventshave provided further evidence of the rulingZANU-PF’s reliance on violence as a form ofrule. The public beating of opposition andcivic leaders, rank and file Movement forDemocratic Change (MDC) members andhigh profile lawyers signalled an escalationof repression against the political and civicopposition in the country. Faced with deep-ening economic crisis, a bitter battle oversuccession within the ruling party, the per-sistent presence of opposition forces andcontinued international pressure, ZANU-PFhas responded with a characteristic mixtureof ruthlessness and contempt.

Towards the end of February 2007, theoccasion of President Robert Mugabe’s83rd birthday was marked by a televisedinterview. Denying that the economywas in dire straits even if people werestruggling to make ends meet, he took theopportunity to warn his would-besuccessors – ‘high ranking, ambitiousindividuals who were looking at them-

selves’ – that he would not be pushed outof office. While the day would comewhen he would retire, that point had notyet been reached. ‘Can you see anyvacancies?’, he asked rhetorically. ‘Thedoor is closed’ (BBC News, 21 February2007). Preparations were anyway well-advanced for a huge birthday party to bestaged in a football stadium just outsidethe midlands city of Gweru. For severalmonths, the 21st February Movement, astate youth organisation whose sole pur-pose turns on Mugabe’s annual birthdayfestivities, had been raising funds andfinalising arrangements for the big day.‘Farmers have donated 38 cattle whileothers said they would bring processedbeef’, declared one of its leaders:

Our initial target was to raise Z$532million (US$2.1 million) … but so far wehave received well over Z$700 million incash and kind (Mail & Guardian, 23February, 2007).

The contrast between such extravaganceand the plight of ordinary Zimbabweanswas not lost on local people or on criticsof the regime. Such displays, of course,were neither new nor unexpected, buttheir insensitivity was seen as crasslyprovocative at a time when politicaltensions were rising. As hyper-inflationspiralled ever upwards, from an esti-mated 1,300% p.a. in the week ending 13February, to 1,600% a week later, to over1,700% in March, and predicted to hit4,000-5,000% by the end of the year (Mail& Guardian, 13 February 2007; DailyTelegraph, 19 February, 2007; BBC News,26 March 2007), evidence of acute hard-ship was everywhere. Emboldened bythe manifest desperation of workerswhose wages did not even cover the costof daily transport never mind food, andby the swelling ranks of jobless youths inthe high density townships surroundingHarare and Bulawayo, both the Zimba-bwe Congress of Trade Unions (ZCTU)and the two factions of the dividedopposition MDC had decided to raisetheir heads above the parapet. A deci-

Briefings: Desperate Days in Zimbabwe 573


sion by the general council of the ZCTUto prepare for a two day stayaway forearly April (IOL, 25 February 2007),followed hard on the heels of a declara-tion by Morgan Tsvangirai, leader of oneMDC grouping, that he would launchhis campaign for the 2008 presidentialelection in Harare’s Highfield township.

On Sunday 18th February, crowds mak-ing their way to attend the rally, forwhich the required legal permission hadbeen obtained, were dispersed by policefiring teargas and water cannon. Clashesbetween heavily-armed riot police andstone-throwing protesters ended with anunknown number of assaults and thearrest of 122 people. In Bulawayo, amarch through the city led by ArthurMutambara’s MDC faction was brokenup in similar fashion. The next day,Highfield’s deserted streets were stillbeing patrolled by riot squads on footand in armoured trucks. A heavy policepresence was in evidence around thetownship shopping centre where road-blocks remained in place. Meeting onTuesday, the Cabinet decided to ban allopposition political gatherings in Hararefor three months. ‘The regime is panick-ing’, announced a spokesman for MorganTsvangirai. ‘They are trying to impose astate of emergency. This is tantamount tobanning the MDC and all political activ-ity’. But the MDC, he declared, wouldignore the ban and continue ‘to organiseour rallies and meetings where neces-sary’ (Mail & Guardian, 22 February2007).

On the face of it, the ruling party cer-tainly had plenty to be concerned about.Serious splits within ZANU-PF had burstinto the open in December 2006. AMugabe-backed motion to combine theforthcoming presidential and parliamen-tary elections, ostensibly on grounds ofefficiency but actually to extend his termof office until 2010 was not endorsed byconference delegates. In particular, itpromised to frustrate the succession am-bitions of the increasingly impatient

factions clustered around retired armygeneral Solomon Mujuru and his wifeJoice, still deputy vice president but nolonger enjoying Mugabe’s favour; andCabinet minister Emmerson Mnangag-wa. More worrying for the regime werethe first public signs of disaffectionamongst rank and file members of thepolice and army. Claims to this effectcarried by The Zimbabwean towards theend of last year now found independentconfirmation. In late January 2007, jun-ior officers were reported as havingmutinied over low pay, this coming aftera warning by the Commissioner of Policethat ‘pay disparities within the securityservices risk(ed) propelling officers into“active rebellion against the govern-ment”’ (ICG, ‘Zimbabwe’; Mail & Guard-ian, 9 February 2007; Zimbabwe Standard,17 February 2007).

Mugabe himself, however, displayed lit-tle outward sign of concern. Short-termmeasures to alleviate discontent took theform of the immediate issue of foodrations to lowly-paid junior army offic-ers and their families, with similar ar-rangements for the police to follow. Eachjunior officer received a ten kilogram bagof maize meal, two litres of cooking oil, aone kilogram packet of fish, and a onekilogram packet of sugar beans (SundayTimes, 18 February 2007). As the mouthsof those higher up the food chain hadhad long been stuffed with gold –‘majors, colonels, lieutenant colonels andbrigadier generals are pampered with(Toyota) Prados, residential stands inposh suburbs like Borrowdale, Chisa-wash Hills, and farms’ – their loyaltywas more certain (Mail & Guardian, 9February, 2007). But leaving nothing tochance, the Central Intelligence Organi-sation began deploying secret agentsinside the police and army with the aimof flushing out officers suspected ofsympathising with the opposition (Ibid.9 March 2007).

Satisfied that the situation was well inhand, Mugabe then flew off to Namibia

on a four-day official visit. Ever true toform, Mugabe used a speech at a dinnerhosted by the Namibia Chamber of Com-merce and Industry to rail against the‘nonsense’ touted by the InternationalMonetary Fund. ‘If you follow the IMFyou will not go anywhere. They willalways prescribe for you’, he told hisappreciative audience.

We can help each other among ourselves.When we don’t have that capacity, thenwe are like economic slaves. We gobegging. There are still countries inAfrica which go begging for money inorder to pay their civil servants, and theygot independent in the 1960s (The Star, 5March 2007).

Yet in Harare and Bulawayo, it wasprecisely the civil service, reeling underthe shock of recent price increases whichhad pushed the cost of living for a familyof five up to Z$686,000 a month, fromZ$460,000 only a month previously,which was now threatening strike action(Financial Times, 17 March 2007). Toobservers, it seemed that ‘economicmeltdown’ would propel ZANU-PF to-wards change, ‘since business interestsof key officials are suffering’. In a reportreleased on 5 March, the Brussels–basedICG argued that ‘after years of politicaldeadlock and continued economic andhumanitarian decline, a realistic chancehas at last begun to appear in the pastfew months to resolve the Zimbabwecrisis, by retirement of President RobertMugabe, a power-sharing transitionalgovernment, a new constitution andelections’. For all that, elements of thereport had the appearance of a wish-listrather than a likely scenario, its claimthat sections within ZANU-PF were notonly pushing for Mugabe’s retirementbut also negotiating transitional arrange-ments with the MDC, clearly hit therawest of ruling party nerves (ICG, ‘Zim-babwe’). The very next day, the Ministerof Information, Sikhanyiso Ndlovu, an-grily denounced the report and its au-thors as guilty of ‘political hallucination’.

‘No one within its (ZANU-PF’s) ranks ispoised to betray the national liberationlegacy that binds the ZANU-PF govern-ment with the masses’, insisted Ndlovu.The government, he said, remained ‘peo-ple-centred’ (IOL, 8 March 2007).

Be that as it may, it was certainly pre-pared to beat people who stepped out ofline. In late February and early March,members of the National ConstitutionalAssembly, an umbrella grouping of op-position movements, defied the recentlyimposed ban on demonstrations by stag-ing marches in Harare, Bulawayo andother urban centres. Those taking parthad been arrested and assaulted by thepolice, but this sporadic violence wentlargely unnoticed by the outside worlduntil renewed clashes in Highfield be-tween demonstrators and the police re-sulted in mass arrests, beatings and thedeath of one opposition activist. OnSunday 11 March, a prayer meetingcalled in Highfield’s Zimbabwe Groundsby the Save Zimbabwe Campaign dis-solved in chaos as heavily armed riotpolice used road blocks, tear gas, andwater cannons to prevent people fromreaching the event. As running battleserupted between stone-throwing activ-ists and police, one man was killed andmore than 100 were arrested. Accordingto a police spokesman, MDC supportershurling stones and teargas at the police,had defied orders to disperse.

One person has been shot dead by thepolice and three police officers are detainedat Harare Hospital after sustaining seri-ous injuries during an attack by MDCthugs this afternoon … Warning shotswere fired and the group still advanced.The police shot one male adult, whoappeared to be the leader of the group, inthe chest.

The arrest of MDC leaders MorganTsvangirai and Arthur Mutambura, andother party officials ‘going around incit-ing people to come and indulge inviolent activities’ was confirmed (IOL, 3



March 2007; Ibid., 12 March 2007; CapeTimes, 12 March 2007).

By Tuesday, that is, two days later, it hadbecome apparent that those arrested hadbeen repeatedly and brutally assaultedwhile in police custody. Photographs ofbruised and battered MDC membersflashed around the world, particularlythose of the grotesquely swollen featuresof Morgan Tsvangirai, whose skull hadbeen fractured, it was subsequently con-firmed. As Tsvangirai and other detain-ees, many alleging they had been torturedand some with broken limbs, were re-leased into hospital care after brieflyappearing at Harare Magistrates Court,it seemed that the Mugabe regime hadspectacularly miscalculated the conse-quences of its heavy-handed actions. Farfrom the beatings having had the desiredeffect, they had revitalised a dividedopposition which for some time past hadbeen going nowhere. They had drivenTsvangirai and Mutambara together, ifonly for the moment, and they had leftthe MDC in undisputed possession ofthe moral high ground. ‘There are lots ofpeople who’ve been subjected to thiskind of torture, this kind of brutality bythis regime’, declared Tsvangirai fromhis hospital bed. ‘It just shows the extentto which this brutal regime is trying toprotect its power. For the struggle, I thinkit’s an inspiration to everyone. There isno freedom without struggle, and there isno freedom without sacrifice’ (BBC News,14 March 2007; The Independent, 15 March2007).

International condemnation of Harare’sactions was quick in coming. Citingeyewitnesses who claimed that activistshad only turned on the police after thefatal shooting, most foreign media cover-age was extremely critical of the officialversion of events which blamed theopposition MDC for the violence.Amongst the first to weigh in was UnitedStates Secretary of State, CondoleezzaRice, who demanded Tsvangirai’s im-mediate release. ‘The world community

again has been shown that the regime ofRobert Mugabe is ruthless and repres-sive and creates only suffering for thepeople of Zimbabwe’. The US, she said,would hold Mugabe personally respon-sible for the safety and well-being ofthose in custody. She was joined in hercondemnation by the UN Secretary Gen-eral, by the European Union, and byCanada, Australia and New Zealand.Even the discredited former colonialpower, Britain, managed to muster ajunior Foreign Office minister, who de-scribed the situation in Zimbabwe as‘appalling’ (Daily News, 13 March 2007;Mail & Guardian, 14 March 2007; Zimba-bwe Independent, 16 March 2007)

Paying no heed to Western criticism,Mugabe acted accordingly. On same daythat the police were unleashed inHighfield, Mugabe had announced hisintention of standing for another six-year term of office. Any lingering doubtsabout his seriousness of purpose weredispelled at mid-week when the officesof the ZCTU were raided by members ofthe CIO.

In Bulawayo, Gweru, Kwekwe, andMutare, more than 100 opposition sup-porters and students activists wererounded up and arrested. By this point,protest within the region had begun tomount. For the South African ForeignAffairs Department to observe only that‘the problems of Zimbabwe will be re-solved by the people of Zimbabwe’ was‘disgraceful in the face of such massiveattacks and human rights, especiallycoming from those who owed so much tointernational solidarity when South Af-ricans were fighting for democracy andhuman rights against the apartheid re-gime’, noted a COSATU spokesman.Stung by such sharp criticism comingfrom one of its partners in the TripartiteAlliance, South Africa’s ANC govern-ment belatedly called on Harare ‘toensure that the rule of law includingrespect for the rights of all Zimbabweansand opposition leaders is respected’, but

beyond that point it was not prepared togo. (IOL, 13 March 2007; Mail & Guardian,14 March 2007

For Mugabe, what was crucial was SouthAfrican president Thabo Mbeki’s silenceand implied support. Nothing else mat-tered, not even Ghanaian president andcurrent African Union chairman, JohnKufor’s off-the-cuff remark that the situa-tion in Zimbabwe was an ‘embarrass-ment’. Much more significant was publicsupport from the Angolan governmentfor the ‘appropriate measures’ taken bythe Zimbabwean police in dealing withviolence. In Harare to sign a security co-operation accord, Angola’s Minister ofthe Interior referred warmly to the ties offriendship between the two countrieswhich dated back to the days of theliberation war. These ties, he said, hadnow been strengthened (BBC News, 13March 2007; IOL, 16 March 2007; Finan-cial Gazette, 16 March 2007; The Herald, 19March 2007). Also in the Zimbabweancapital was Tanzanian president, JakayaKikwete. His Tanzanian counterpart hadvisited as a brother and an ally ex-plained Mugabe, unlike the West

which has always supported the opposi-tion here and elsewhere … Naturally, wetake great exception to any support thathas been given by foreigners or repre-sentatives of foreign countries to thepolitical parties or opposition in the coun-try. When they criticise Governmentwhen it tries to prevent violence andpunish perpetrators of that violence, wetake the position they can go hang (TheHerald, 16 March 2007).

Quite who was responsible for the esca-lating violence was far from clear. Overthe next ten days, that is, the second halfof March, there were reports of sporadicclashes between opposition activists andriot police, mainly in Harare andBulawayo townships, but in smallerurban centres too. Four police stationswere petrol-bombed, three in and aroundHarare, and the other in Gweru (Finan-

cial Gazette, 16 March 2007; Zimdaily.com,17 March 2007; The Herald, 28 March2007). A ZANU-PF office, a house be-longing to a ZANU-PF councillor, twosupermarkets, and a night club were allattacked. Boulders and logs were placedacross the main railway line leading intoBulawayo, and a Bulawayo-bound pas-senger train was petrol-bombed as it wasleaving Harare (Zim Online, 16 March2007; The Herald, 28 March 2007) Theseand other violent episodes were seizedupon by Western countries and Hararealike, but for very different reasons. Forthe former, it was all part of growingevidence of the long-predicted uprisingby a population driven beyond endur-ance by an incompetent and tyrannicalregime. ‘What I think we have seen in thelast week is that people have turned acorner’, claimed the US ambassador toZimbabwe. ‘They’re not afraid any more’(BBC News, 21 March 2007). This wasnot at all how Harare saw events. Oneweek after the arrests and beatings ad-ministered to his opponents, Mugabesolemnly pointed to ‘terrorist attacksthat are part of the desperate and illegalplot to unconstitutionally change thegovernment of the country’ (Sunday Mail,18 March 2007).

Even as Harare assiduously compiled adossier of such ‘terrorist’ incidents, itsagents continued severely to assault andarrest MDC office-bearers and support-ers (The Times, 20 March 2007; TheIndependent, 21 March 2007; for the dos-sier itself, see Zimbabwe Republic Police,‘Opposition Forces in Zimbabwe. A Trailof Violence 1 January 2007 to 15 March2007’; Ibid., Vol. 2). The initiative wasnow beginning to slip away from theopposition, for all that its leaders talkedup the prospect of change. ‘We are in thefinal stages of the final push’, declaredArthur Mutambara.

We are going to do it by democratic means,by being arrested, beaten, but we aregoing to do it. We are continuing withdefiance in spite of what Robert Mugabe



says. We are talking about rebellion, war… Mugabe is fighting against his ownpeople. That is war against the people.Already there is violence.

‘Things are bad’, Morgan Tsvangiraisaid in an interview, ‘but I think that thiscrisis has reached a tipping point, andwe could see the beginning of the end ofthis dictatorship in whatever form’ (TheTimes, 17 March 2007; The Independent, 19March 2007). Other MDC members werenot convinced. ‘For all the publicity ofthe past week, the fact remains that theopposition hasn’t been able to mobilisetens of thousands of people which ispartly to do with fear, partly to do withdivisions in the opposition and partly todo with a shocking lack of informationfor ordinary people about what is goingon’, observed one opposition Member ofParliament. ‘This is a very weak popula-tion; weak economically, unhealthy be-cause of AIDS, and a population that isstarving’ (The Guardian, 20 March 2007).With a call by the Catholic Archbishop ofBulawayo for the population to fill thestreets in protest falling on deaf ears, anote of caution crept into MDC pro-nouncements. Prudently distancingthemselves from petrol bomb attacks, notleast because of mounting suspicion thatsome had been the actions of agentprovocateurs in the pay of the state,opposition leaders now acknowledgedthat it was ‘too early to talk of victory ortipping points’ (The Zimbabwean, 22-28March 2007; BBC News, 26 March 2007;The Independent, 28 March 2007).

With opposition hopes for change in-creasingly pinned on a combination ofexternal pressure and the ambitions ofdisaffected ZANU-PF party barons, theregime in Harare was sufficiently confi-dent that it had regained control of thesituation to lift the ban imposed onpolitical meetings and demonstrations.It did, however, take the precaution ofsending armed police and CIO opera-tives on the rampage through Chitung-wiza where a rally was scheduled, in

order to beat MDC activists into submis-sion (The Herald, 26 March 2007;Zimdaily.com, 27 March 2007). Havingaccused Morgan Tsvangirai the previ-ous day that ‘you want to rule thiscountry on behalf of Blair, (but) as longas I am alive that will never happen’,Mugabe rammed home the message byauthorising the temporary re-arrest ofthe MDC leader and his senior aides(BBC News, 28 March 2007; The Inde-pendent, 29 March 2007).

By mid-week, the Zimbabwean presidentwas in Dar es Salaam for a meeting of the12-nation SADC, where, according toWestern prognostications, he was due tocome under unprecedented pressure toaccept an exit package and make way foran interim government. Instead, Mugabebriefed his fellow leaders on ‘MDC vio-lence which its Western backers wantedto use to bring Zimbabwe under the UNSecurity Council’. Their attention wasdrawn to a dossier detailing ‘acts ofterrorism’ carried out by the MDC’s un-derground ‘Democratic Resistance Com-mittees’, members of which werefortuitously being charged in Harare withattempted murder in connection with astring of fire bombings, even as the Sum-mit was meeting (The Herald, 26 March2007; BBC News, 29 March 2007; IOL, 30March 2007). Apparently impressed andcertainly unwilling to bow to Westernpressure, the SADC leaders rallied aroundZimbabwe’s autocratic ruler. Far fromcriticising Mugabe, they directed their fireat the West. Recalling that ‘free, fair anddemocratic presidential elections wereheld in 2002 in Zimbabwe’, and reaffirm-ing ‘its solidarity with the Governmentand people of Zimbabwe’, the officialcommuniqué called for the lifting of ‘allforms of sanctions against Zimbabwe’,while reiterating an appeal to Britain ‘tohonour its compensation obligations withregard to land reform’. Almost as anafterthought, President Mbeki was man-dated to promote political dialogue withinZimbabwe (The Herald, 30 March 2007;BBC News, 30 March 2007).

Pleased with what he described as an‘excellent meeting’, Mugabe returnedhome to further good news. Addressinga crucial meeting of his ruling ZANU-PFparty, he claimed that he had not heardone word of criticism from his fellowsouthern African leaders at the summitjust ended. Morgan Tsvangirai, he said,‘deserved to be assaulted’, and to thun-derous applause, he dismissed Westernhopes of regime change. ‘Both govern-ments of Bush and Blair think we havereached what they term a tipping pointbecause of the hardships wrought by theillegal sanctions they have imposed onus … They are gravely mistaken’. Con-founding MDC and Western expecta-tions that the powerful factionsassociated with Solomon Mujuru andEmmerson Mnangagwa would unite todepose him, Mugabe was again selectedas the ZANU-PF presidential candidatefor the 2008 election. This election wouldcoincide with elections for parliament,which would be brought forward by twoyears. Standing on the steps of ZANU-PF’s headquarters, and surrounded bycheering supporters, an obviously jubi-lant Mugabe denounced the West andBritain in particular, for funding the‘violent’ MDC. ‘We can never entertain… a party that is walking the road ofterrorism’, he told the crowd in footagesubsequently screened on national tel-evision. ‘We will not allow that in Zim-babwe’ (BBC News, 30 March 2007; TheTimes, 30 March 2007; Mail & Guardian,31 March 2007).

The SADC invitation for Mugabe to enterinto mediation with the opposition, is aprocess that the Zimbabwean leadercannot easily refuse if he is to maintainthe integrity and support of the region.Developing regional solidarity has allalong been a key element of Mugabe’ssurvival strategy. It is certain, however,that Mugabe will make the mediationprocess as difficult as possible for hisSouth African counterpart, Thabo Mbeki.Already the period since 11 March 2007has witnessed continued arrests, vio-

lence, torture and killing of MDC activ-ists, usually on allegations of terrorism.Equally significant is the fact that therecent violence is ZANU-PF’s introduc-tory gambit into the mediation process.Mugabe is likely to drag out the media-tion for as long as possible, even as heprepares for another problematic elec-tion in 2008. The Zimbabwean govern-ment has already announced that ageneral election will take place at the endof March, and the current general assaulton the opposition indicates Mugabe andZANU-PF’s election campaign is al-ready underway.

Both Presidents Mbeki and Mugabe un-derstand that the opposition forces inZimbabwe have been seriously weak-ened by a combination of state repres-sion, the split within the MDC, and alack of support within the region. TheMDC are unable to exert strong internalpressure as a bargaining strategy in thetalks. This places the organisation in aninvidious situation, in which their majorpoints of pressure are a reluctant SADCmediation, pressure from the West andthe possibility of a resurgent oppositionin the future. The balance of forces in thecurrent context thus weighs heavilyagainst them. For Mugabe the two majorpressures that confront him are the rap-idly declining economy and the factionalbattles in his party. The indicators ofdecline in Zimbabwe have become astandard global reference for economicfailure. At the time of writing, the infla-tion rate stands at about 3,700%, whileby 2006 the GDP per capita was 47%below the level in 1980. At the end of2006 the average minimum wage ofZimbabwean workers was only 16.6% ofthe Poverty Datum Line calculated atDecember 2006 levels, while the formalsector decreased from 1.4 million in 1998to 998,000 in 2004. When these indica-tors are combined with anticipated short-age of food this year and the continuedloss of high level skills from the country,the picture is bleak indeed.



An important dimension of the factionalstruggle within ZANU-PF is about astrategy for the normalisation of relationswith the international community, onethat will provide the party elite with timeand space to consolidate recently ac-quired wealth. The terms of this re-engagement will form the core of themediation talks, while the future ofMugabe himself will be a major feature ofthis normalisation. On this matter, theveteran leader does not feel that he canhand over the torch to anyone else. It isfor this reason that the ruling partystructures were manipulated to ensureMugabe’s presidential candidacy in2008. From this perspective, mediation isabout making as few reforms as possibleto gain acceptance for an election nextyear. On the other hand, the oppositionfaces pressures of growing national andinternational impatience with their divi-sions, and the prospect of major strategicand organisational dilemmas shouldmediation fail to open up new politicalspaces. This is not the best position forthe Zimbabwean opposition to be in, butit is the reality that has to be confrontedand negotiated.

More broadly, it is the dilemma of post-liberation opposition movements thatmust confront the anti-colonial discourseof authoritarian nationalist governments,with a political language that negotiatesthe tensions between democratic politi-cal questions, and the pressures ofredistributive economic demands. It maybe that in the current regional and globalcontext, diminished economic alterna-tives will continue to provide the condi-tions for generating renewedauthoritarian nationalisms. However thechallenge of developing an alternative,and more tolerant, language of nationalbelonging remains an urgent task.

Ian Phimister (University of Sheffield/University of Pretoria, e-mail: [email protected]; BrianRaftopoulos, Institute for Justice andReconciliation, Cape Town, e-mail:[email protected]

Trading Guns for Gold:Pakistani Peacekeepers inthe Congo

Martin Plaut

The United Nations Mission in the DRCongo (MONUC) was established as aresult of the Lusaka Accord of 1999. TheAccord was signed in the Zambiancapital, Lusaka, on 10 July, by leaders ofsix countries involved in the conflict (theDR Congo, Zimbabwe, Namibia, An-gola, Rwanda and Uganda), but not bythe Congolese rebel groups. Monuc itselfcame into being on 24 February 2000,when the UN Security Council adoptedResolution 1291. With a budget of over$1 billion it is the largest and mostexpensive peacekeeping operation cur-rently run by the UN with a total of16,500 troops at its disposal. Monuc’smandate was to take the Congolese – bystages – from a civil war to civilian rule,via democratic elections. The currenthead of Monuc, Ambassador WilliamSwing outlined the magnitude of thetask.

Two wars in the DRC from 1997 to 2002produced the following sad legacy at thetime of the first peace agreement, theLusaka accords of July 1999: a countrydivided under three different belligerent’sadministrations; armies of six foreignnations occupying bits and pieces of theDRC; wide-scale plunder of the Congo’sabundant natural resources; four million

dead from war-related causes; 3.2 millioninternally displaced persons; 2.4. millionHIV infected; 500,000 refugees; infra-structure of the country destroyed(William Swing).

The elections – the first truly democratic,multi-party elections to be held in thecountry’s history – took place on 30 July2006 with a run-off between the presi-dential candidates on 29 October. Theincumbent, Joseph Kabila was declaredthe winner in December 2006. Althoughthe elections were far from perfect it wassomething of a miracle that they wereheld at all in such a war-torn country. Itwas a real credit to Monuc, which con-tinues to work to bring a semblance oforder to the country.

Having said this, the UN operation inthe Congo has not been without its flawsand its critics. With its troops dispersedacross this vast country and few meansof policing their behaviour (since theyare on loan from their respective coun-tries, and not therefore directly answer-able to the UN) some of the troopsbecame a law unto themselves. The Wash-ington Post uncovered a UN report docu-menting no fewer than 150 allegations ofsexual misconduct by UN staff againstgirls and young women. UN investiga-tions into these abuses were blocked andobstructed.

UN peacekeepers threatened UN investi-gators investigating allegations of sexualmisconduct in Congo and sought to bribewitnesses to change their testimony, aconfidential UN draft report says (Wash-ington Post, 16 December 2004).

These abuses have provided ammuni-tion for long time critics of the UN,including the Heritage Foundation aswell as cause for concern for organisa-tions like Human Rights Watch. Theyprovide the background to the allega-tions which were uncovered by HumanRights Watch, and reported on by theauthor concerning UN peacekeepers trad-

ing in gold and guns with some of theworst human rights violators in Congo.

There is evidence that Pakistani peace-keeping troops with the United Nationsoperating in the Ituri region of the Demo-cratic Republic of Congo established anetwork of gold trading with some of themilitia they were supposed to be sup-pressing. As this developed in 2005 and2006 they brought in Indian traders fromKenya and cut the Congolese army in onthe deal. When the UN attempted toinvestigate what was taking place thePakistanis refused to co-operate, puttingUN military police behind barbed wire,and placing armoured personnel car-riers outside the monastery where theinvestigators were living. The UN investi-igation team, believing they were at risk,requested that they be airlifted out of thearea. The UN investigation descendedinto acrimony, with allegations that itwas being blocked for political reasons.Only after the UN was confronted withwhat had taken place was the investiga-tion expedited and promises given thatthe UN would enforce a new system ofdisciplining its troops in peacekeepingoperations.

The Gold of Mongbwalu

Gold was discovered in the area as earlyas 1903 and although around 400 tonnesof the precious metal are estimated tohave been mined since then, the area isstill described as containing possibly‘one of the most exciting, and potentiallythe largest, unexplored gold reserve inAfrica’ (Wardell Armstrong, 2006:2.1)Armed groups fought for control of thisresource from the start of the Congolesewar in 1998. It was, quite simply, the wayof paying troops, providing them witharms and obtaining wealth for the lead-ership.

Mongbwalu, the town at the centre ofmuch of the gold mining activity,changed hands between militia in bitterfighting no fewer than five times from

Briefings: Trading Guns for Gold: Pakistani Peacekeepers in the Congo 581


2002 to 2004. The majority of the fightingwas between two ethnic based militia:the Hema based Union des PatriotsCongo-lais (UPC) led by Thomas Labangaand the Lendu based Front des National-ites et Integrationnistes (FNI) led byFloribert Njabu. It was the FNI that cameto control the town and its mines, hold-ing it until the UN Mission to the Congo(Monuc) stationed sufficient Pakistanitroops in the area in 2005. The UN thenheld the area, with the Pakistanis patrol-ling on foot and in armoured cars, muchto the relief of local people who hadsuffered terribly a the hands of the militia(Human Rights Watch). Over time theCongolese army also established a pres-ence in Mongbwalu.

Pakistanis Turn to Trading

Evidence that the Pakistanis had morethan peacekeeping on their mindsemerged during a visit by Human RightsWatch (HRW) to Ituri in late 2005. Theirresearcher, Anneke van Woudenberg,collected detailed information about theirinvolvement in the trade, including pho-tographs and other documents, whichwere passed to senior officials in Monucin the hope that they would investigatethe matter and halt the smuggling activi-ties. When this investigation appeared tobe stalled, the information was passed tothe author, and the BBC World Servicebegan looking into the allegations. Muchof the evidence in this article comes fromthat work.

There is little doubt that some Pakistaniofficers used their time in Ituri to makemoney. In Mongbwalu it is hard to findanyone who does not believe that UNtroops were engaged in gold trafficking.Liki Likambo is the head of the associa-tion of miners.

I saw a UN Pakistani soldier who came tobuy gold from one of the gold negotiatorshere in Mongbwalu. I was there in theshop.

And you saw PAKBATT (the Pakistanibattalion) paying money for the gold?

Yes I saw it with my own eyes. I was awitness in a black market place, they couldnot see me, but I was there and I saw it.They wanted to buy gold in hidden places,where they could not be seen by people.

And you saw money change hands?

Yes, I saw that (interview with author).

Others will testify that the trade wasdirectly with the FNI militia. EvaristaAnjasubu, a local businessman was inthe Monuc camp and saw a transactionbetween Pakistani officers and two of themost notorious FNI militia leaders, Gen-eral Mateso Ninga, alias Kung Fu andColonel Masasi, alias Dragon. Both weremen with blood on their hands and bothwere arrested in October 2005 for warcrimes. According to Evarista Anjasubuthis did not deter the Pakistanis fromdealing with them:

They had a very strong relation sogenerally the authorities [i.e. Pakistaniofficers] gave them food in sacks. I don’tknow if there was money inside. Theywere 20-30kg sacks with flour, fish inside.

Why did they give them the food?What did they get in return?

They were already friends, I knew well itwas gold which was the basis of the theirfriendship … I can confirm that becausethe two commanders were controlling thegold mines here – the mines were alreadyin their hands. So the gold extracted fromthe mines went directly to the Pakistanis.They used to meet in the Pakistanibattalion’s camp – in a thatched hut …Dragon use to tell me that if I had gold Icould give it to him, and he could sell it at ahigh price (interview with author).

Having established this relationship thePakistani officers set about turning it

into a professional operation. Indiantraders were contacted, and links builtwith the Congolese army in the area. Thetraders were flown into Mongbwaluusing UN helicopters, and put up at thePakistani battalion base from where theyproceeded to trade. According to AnnekeVan Woudenberg (HRW), this soon be-came a lucrative process.

We documented that gold went to anothereastern Congolese town, Goma, and thenon to Rwanda and from there to the MiddleEast – Dubai – where it was sold on toworld markets. We were able to documenttwo trades, estimated to be worth $1-3million. So these were substantial trades. Iassume anyone involved making good cut(interview with author).

Among those observing this process wasthe Congolese official responsible forchecking visitors passing throughMongbwalu airstrip, Richard Ndilu. Inlate 2005 he became suspicious when anIndian businessman arrived and waspicked up by the Pakistani peacekeepers.Richard Ndilu says the next day hereceived a visit from a Pakistani officer –a Major Javed – along with the Indianbusinessman: The purpose of their visitsoon became clear.

The Pakistani Major Javed brought theIndian to my house, asking me to buy goldfor them. I told him that I don’t knowanything about gold. I said I am a civilservant and we don’t trade in gold.

So what did they do?

When I said I could not help them, theywent to look for other Congolese people tobuy gold for them. Then he (i.e. the Indian)was driven to the airport on board aMonuc vehicle (and helped onto theplane.) He returned to Bunia (after 6days) on a MONUC helicopter – all withthe intervention of Major Javed, becauseat the first the pilot refused to take MrKagram but the Major himself insisted. Iwas there – he discussed for a long time,

and finally the pilot agreed to take MrKagram.

How can you know what was onboard the plane?

I did not know what was on board theplane, but I was persuaded the Indian leftwith gold, I say I don’t know because thisIndian was protected by the militaryauthorities.

If you suspected something why didyou not inspect the baggage?

I could not touch his suitcase, because thisIndian was protected, supported by theCongolese army. … I made a report aboutthe Indian to the authorities in Bunia.

That report reached the headquarters ofthe regional administration in Bunia.The district commissioner of the prov-ince of Ituri was Petronille Vaweka. MrsVaweka says when she heard aboutthese attempts to illegally buy and exportgold from Mongbwalu, she told the localauthorities in the town to inform herimmediately, if the Indian businessmanor any of their associates returned. Soonshe got a call.

Some days later, the mayor of Mongbwalucalled me to say the Major from Monucwas going to the airport to collect a groupof Indians. I said OK you follow him to theairport Then I called the head of UN herein Bunia and told him: there is a Major inMongbwalu who is with a gold trafficker,and he’s taking him to the UN camp. Then,the Mayor of Mongbwalu told me theplane was going to leave for Bunia, I againinformed the head of UN and I asked himwhat shall I do? He said, I think, do yourjob. So, I went to the airport in Bunia. Theplane arrived from Mongbwalu, and Iarrested the Indians, and verified thattheir passports were not in order – novisas, nothing.

Mrs Vaweka concluded that members ofthe Pakistani UN contingent along with



members of the Congolese army andIndian traders from Kenya were in-volved in a network, smuggling gold outof the country, without any of the neces-sary export permits. But the involvementof the army meant she could not keep theplane or the Indian businessmen underdetention:

I knew they had gold because the price ofgold increased when the Indians went toMongbwalu. But when we wanted toverify that by looking inside the plane, thepilot refused to allow us to enter! Me, andI was in charge! He refused! But I couldnot use my police to enter the planebecause certain members of the Congolesearmy were complicit in this. It was a majorscandal! (interview with the author).

The activities of the Pakistani peace-keepers were therefore not only floutingCongolese law, but also underminingthe fragile structure of Congolese localgovernment.

Guns For Gold

In early 2006 the UN launched a majorinvestigation into what was taking placeby its internal investigation and audit-ing unit, the Office for Internal OversightServices (OIOS). The OIOS team’s pre-liminary enquiries confirmed that thePakistani battalion was, indeed tradingin gold, but what they uncovered wentmuch further. OIOS discovered that notonly were Pakistani peacekeepers in-volved in smuggling gold they boughtfrom militia in Ituri, they were alsotrading weapons in exchange for thegold. In effect they were re-arming militiawho had just been disarmed under theUN assisted Congolese government’sdisarmament programme.

The evidence they found for the tradingof guns for gold was, prima facie, com-pelling. One of the witnesses they inter-viewed was a Congolese army majorwho has asked not to be named. This isfrom his statement.

The officer expressed his regrets over themalpractices of a Pakistani battalion underthe auspices of Major Zanfar. He revealedthe arms surrendered by ex-combatantswere secretly returned to them by MajorZanfar thereby compromising the workthey had collectively done earlier. Witnesswas not in a position to say why MajorZanfar did this, but knowing MajorZanfar’s thirst for gold witness believesthat it is highly, very probable that he didthis in exchange for gold. He continuedthat he personally knew some elements ofthe UPC militia who had been armed byMajor Zanfar himself. Repeatedly he sawmilitia who had been disarmed one day,but the next day would become re-armedagain. The information he could obtainwas always the same, that it would be thePakistani battalion giving arms back to themilitia (UN record of interview withwitness, in author’s possession).

The second source was an interpreter,who was used because the Pakistanisspoke no French. Called to the Monuccamp, he was asked to interpret betweenthe Pakistani officer in charge of theMongbwalu contingent, Major Ali andthe FNI commander, known as Kung Fu.

(The interpreter) when asked what tran-spired at this meeting stated that the firstcomment from Major ALI was to Kung Fuand he said ‘what about the weapons Igave you, what about the weapons Monucgave you’? Witness claimed that KungFu’s response was ‘we share them out todifferent positions, the miltia don’t respectus, Kuliba don’t respect me as a General,it is tough trying to control them’.Witness stated that Major ALI’s responseto this was ‘Monuc gave you weapons tocontrol the border, you should stay thereto keep our security’. Witness stated thatKung Fu responded saying that ‘we willtry to capture back the weapons, we don’tneed them at the moment, we have noproblems’ (UN record of interviewwith witness, in author’s possession)

The UN’s Troubled Investigation

On 14 August 2006 a team of threeinvestigators from OIOS, accompaniedby UN Military Police from Morocco andSouth Africa, were deployed to Mong-bwalu to try to conclude their work. Atfirst they were cordially received by thePakistani battalion, which had orders toco-operate with them. But when theybegan probing into the question of weap-ons and asked to inspect files on one ofthe Pakistani computers, the atmospheresoured. After seeing files, which appar-ently contained information they consid-ered important to their investigation, theOIOS decided to seize the computer. ThePakistani legal adviser refused, saying itcontained personal information.

The ‘PAKBATT Liaison/Legal Adviserwalked into the office declaring that he hadjust received new orders, and that theorders were that it was clear that the teamis looking to dishonour PAKBATT, andthat he therefore would no long allowanyone to walk or move inside the camp’(Confidential Mission Analysis Re-port, 24 August 2006, in author’spossession).

The OIOS team withdrew to the missionstation where they were staying, only todiscover that two Pakistani armouredpersonnel carriers had been brought upoutside the building ‘… without clearjustification and no evident change ofthe security situation …’ The UN mili-tary police, who were stationed at thePakistani camp, were, according to theReport, surrounded by barbed wire andnot allowed to leave their barracks evento shower, wash or shave. Believing thattheir investigation had been brought to ahalt, and fearful for their safety, the OIOSteam contacted their superiors in theregional capital, Bunia to request animmediate evacuation from Mongbwalu.

At this point the OIOS investigationdescended into chaos. Their superiors inBunia questioned the assessment of the

team on the ground and tried to get themto stay. When the Mongbwalu teaminsisted, they were effectively removedfrom the investigation. The controversyabout the way in which the investigationhas been handled went all the way upthe organisation. On 11 September 2006,the head of the OIOS Investigation Divi-sion, Vladislav Guerassev wrote to Inga-Britt Ahlenius, the Under-Secretary-General in charge of OIOS, complainingthat one of his most senior African staffwas implying that he was ‘behaving likethe KGB’ (letter in the author’s posses-sion).

Deeply divided, the OIOS investigationinto the Pakistanis made little apparentprogress. Worse still, a UN official, whoasked not to be named, was told that theenquiry was going nowhere because ithad been blocked for political reasons.Essentially, Pakistan, as the largest troopcontributor to the UN, with 10,000 of itssoldiers wearing blue helmets, was toopowerful to touch. The investigatorswere instructed to lay off.

The UN & Pakistan Respond

The evidence from Human Rights Watch,interviews, witnesses and the internaldocuments from the OIOS was compel-ling. A picture had emerged of a contin-gent of UN peacekeepers involved inillegal gold trading and smugglingthrough a network of connections thatinvolved not just the Congolese armyand miners, but also some of the mostnotorious militia in the country. The UNinvestigation into these events had ap-parently been blocked, both by the Paki-stanis and UN officials fearful ofjeopardising their relationship with themost important troop contributing coun-try in the world, providing the UN witharound 10,000 troops at any one time.

When the allegations of gold tradingwere put to the head of the UN operationin the country, Ambassador WilliamSwing, he pointed to the ongoing investi-



gation being conducted by the OIOS andpromised swift action if these wereproved. But on the question of armsbeing traded his response was a cat-egorical denial.

We also have evidence that UnitedNations peacekeepers in the sameregion re-armed the militia who hadalready been disarmed by the Congo-lese troops.

This I can categorically deny. What wehave done is just the opposite. We havedemobilised more than 20,000. We arecontinuing to demobilise. We have takenin caches of arms. We have destroyedarms. We have done public burnings ofthese arms. And there is absolutelynothing to that allegation.

Well, let me read to you from a UnitedNations document, which refers towhat was said by a Congolese majorwho witnessed this: ‘The major re-vealed that arms surrendered by ex-combatants were secretly returned tothem by a major in the Pakistanicontingent, thereby compromising thework that they had collectively doneearlier.’ What do you say to that?

Your question was suggesting that it wassomething much larger than that. That acontingent or a battalion was automati-cally returning arms. If an individual,such as this major in question has donethis, this would be an extremely seriousoffence and I would make sure that the fullweight came down upon him. But ourmajor focus has been at great cost to us –don’t forget that we have lost 35 soldiersby bullets in Ituri and we are taking thisvery seriously. We believe we are makingprogress. There are three major groupsleft and we expect to have them disarmedin the very near future, co-operating withthe government authorities (interviewwith author).

There was also the question of the treat-ment of the OIOS investigation team by

the Pakistani battalion in August 2006.When the head of the InvestigationsDivision of OIOS in New York, VladislavGuerassev heard what had taken place,he demanded action from the UN forcecommander in the Congo, LieutenantGeneral Babacar Gaye. On 9 October2006 Lieutenant General Gaye repliedsaying:

Thank you for your email requestinginformation on action taken with regard tothe Bunia and Mongbwalu investigations.Following the report of obstruction, whichoccurred as a result of the initial jointattempt to conduct an enquiry into re-ported offences by the PAKBATT 1, I havedirected the Military Police to conduct animmediate enquiry into these additionaloffences (letter in author’s possession)

When asked to explain what the enquiryoutlined in this letter had discoveredLieutenant General Gaye refused.

It’s not normal that this letter be underyour control … Do you think an investiga-tion that is a UN one, I will have to discussthis type of thing publicly in all the radiostations? Really it’s not normal …its notthe way we are conducting something … Idon’t think it is normal. Any decision hasbeen done by chain of command by Monucbe discussed publicly – you know – let’ssay - released on a radio station. I don’tthink its normal and I will not do it(interview with author).

The UN in New York also refused to sayanything further, arguing that there wasan ongoing investigation into the allega-tions of gold trading. However, on 23May 2007 the spokesperson for the UNSecretary-General Ban Ki-moon issuedthe following statement:

The Office of Internal Oversight Services(OIOS) is currently conducting an inves-tigation into allegations that, in 2005-2006, a contingent of peacekeepers servingwith the United Nations peacekeepingMission in the Democratic Republic of the

Congo (MONUC) was involved in min-eral resource exploitation and weaponstrading in the town of Mongwalu, in theIturi District of the eastern DemocraticRepublic of the Congo. The Secretary-General’s Special Representative in theDemocratic Republic of the Congo, WilliamLacy Swing, requested an immediateOIOS investigation after an internalMONUC inquiry brought these allega-tions to light. That investigation began inearly 2006.

OIOS informs us that the investigation iswell advanced and is expected to becompleted in about three weeks. Upon itscompletion, OIOS will transmit its find-ings to the Department of PeacekeepingOperations and the United Nations Mis-sion in the Democratic Republic of theCongo for action. As per normal proce-dures, once the OIOS report is released,Member States will be provided with thereport upon request.

The Secretary-General looks forward tothe early completion of the investigation.He will act upon its findings expeditiouslyand transparently. If wrongdoing is foundto have occurred, he will hold thoseresponsible accountable. The Secretary-General calls upon any concerned Mem-ber States to do the same.

The head of the UN’s Department ofPeacekeeping Operations, Undersecre-tary-General Jean-Marie Guehenno hasalso indicated that he will be seeking totighten up troop discipline following therevelations. He said that troop-contribut-ing countries would in future have toaccept the introduction of formal disci-pline standards for peacekeepers or riskjeopardizing the United Nations’ entirerecent campaign of zero-tolerance topeacekeeping crimes. The new stand-ards, which would be contained in theMemorandum of Understanding, are partof the UN Secretariat’s response to aseries of scandals in recent years over thebehaviour by some UN peacekeepers.But Mr Guehenno said some states have

indicated opposition to the introductionof such standards, and he called onthose unnamed countries to rethink theirpositions.

‘Sometimes countries want to have theircake and eat it,’ he said. ‘That is, youcan’t at the same time want the UnitedNations to have perfect discipline andeverything, and then resist any U.N.encroachment or interference with theirown national disciplinary procedures. Itmakes things very difficult.’ Althoughthe UN can send misbehaving peace-keepers home, troop-contributing coun-tries are responsible for their uniformedpersonnel, and UN rules can be madebinding only with their agreement. MrGuehenno said it is vital both the UNand member states ‘have the same un-derstanding of what is acceptable, whatis not acceptable, what is criminal, whatis not’ (UPI, 30 May 2007).

Pakistan’s response has been one ofdenial. Major-General Wahid Arshad,spokesman for Pakistan’s Inter-ServicesPublic Relation, who was contacted for acomment prior to the broadcast of theprogramme, but failed to respond, dis-missed the allegations as ‘preposterous,malicious and baseless’.

Aspersions have been cast on us withoutevidence. This is trying to tarnish ourimage and undermine our very strongcontributions to UN peacekeeping world-wide (Agence France Press 1 June2007).

It is important to point out that theallegations were not made against allPakistani troops serving in the Congo.Only a limited number of officers wereallegedly involved and since troops arerotated regularly, no allegations ofwrongdoing have been levelled againstthe Pakistani officers or men serving inIturi in May 2007.

Nonetheless, it is perhaps worth notingthat reports of the Pakistani military’s



involvement in economic activities arenot restricted to Congo. A recently pub-lished study outlined a vast array offinancial dealings by the Pakistani mili-tary – something that could contribute toa climate in which seeking economicadvantage from a foreign posting withthe UN would hardly be out of theordinary (Ayesha Siddiqa, 20007))

Martin Plaut, e-mail: [email protected].

Endnotes

Ayesha Siddiqa (2007), Military Inc. InsidePakistan’s Military Economy, London: Pluto Press.

Human Rights Watch (HRW) (2005), ‘The Curseof Gold’, London/New York.

US House of Representatives (2004), ‘Monuc:A case for peacekeeping reform’, Testimony ofAnneke Van Woudenberg before the US HouseCommittee on International Relations, sub-committee on Africa, 1 March.

Gardiner, Nile (2005), ‘The UN Peacekeepingscandal in the Congo: How Congress shouldrespond’, Heritage Foundation Lecture, 1 March.

Armstrong, Wardell (2006), ‘Orpaillage Activityin the Orientale Province, Democratic Republicof Congo. Situational Analysis Report, preparedfor AngloGold Ashanti Ltd. & Office des Minesd’Or de Kilo-Moto (Okimo), 19 May.

Swing, William Lacy (2006), Statement to theUS Institute of Peace, Washington, DC, 9 May.

US Silence as SaharaMilitary Base Gathers DustJeremy Keenan

After almost four years of raucous propa-ganda and disinformation from Wash-ington on its fabricated ‘War on Terror’in the Sahara, the last five months havebeen characterised by a stony silence.This is for two reasons.

One is that the widespread anger andpolitical instability generated by the USintervention in the Sahel, notably Nigerand Mali, has led finally, and as pre-dicted, to an expanding regional confla-gration.1 At the time of writing (1September 2007) Tuareg rebellions inboth Niger and Mali are escalating acrossnorthern Niger and NE Mali. This isimmensely embarrassing for Washing-ton. Firstly, since 2003, Washington hasbeen very busy marking this region up(see EUCOM’s maps of Africa) as anIslamist (Salafiste) ‘Terror Zone’. Count-less US-inspired media articles havedescribed this specific region (The Niger-Mali-Algeria border zones) as the localeof ‘Al-Qaeda terrorist bases lurking deepin the Sahara desert’ etc. etc. And yet theregion is now entirely immersed in arebellion, reminiscent of anti-colonialdays, without a single Islamist in sight.

Secondly, it is not a good advertisementto the rest of Africa of how US-trainedtroops perform. The Pentagon has spentseveral million dollars since 2004 train-ing Nigerien and Malian forces underBush’s much-heralded Pan Sahel (PSI)and Trans Saharan Counter-Terrorism(TSCTI) initiatives. The product is notimpressive. Niger’s US-trained forceshave been severely humiliated in everyencounter since the beginning of therebellion in February, with an estimated61 soldiers being killed and at least 70taken hostage. In contrast, rebel casual-ties are minimal. The Nigerien army’sconsistent combat failure has effectively

MILITARY INC. InsidePakistan’s MilitaryEconomy by AyeshaSiddiqa

Published in 2007 by PlutoPress

confined its troops to fixed bases dottedaround the region from where theirfrustration and anger is being vent on thesurrounding civilian population. Reportsare growing of soldiers harassing localcivilians, while at least ten old men, ofwhom one was a cripple and seven wereon a local pilgrimage, have been mur-dered in a style of soldiering reminiscentof Iraq. The behaviour of US-trainedforces in Mali is no better. Since spring,there have been constant reports of Maliantroops violating nomadic camps andtheir womenfolk, while on the moremilitary front some forty soldiers havenow surrendered or fallen into the handsof the rebels, with dozens more havingdefected. Indeed, the first rebel attack onthe police post at Tin Zaouatene (see ‘x’on map) on 11 May was almost certainly

an act of revenge by an aggrieved ‘formerrebel’ returning home to find soldiersviolating women in his camp.

The second reason for Washington’ssilence relates to the deterioration, sincemid-2006, of its relations with Algeria,originally its main ally in the fabricationof the Saharan front. Reasons for thisinclude Algeria’s non-delivery on cer-tain hydrocarbons expectations, the hugegrowth in Algeria’s FOREX reserves(and hence greater financial independ-ence from the US), Russia’s emergence asa major player in the Algerian gas andarms markets and the associated devel-opment of tensions between fractionswithin Algeria’s intelligence services.Moreover, and as far as the US is con-cerned, key elements in the Algerian

ALGERIALYBIA

EGYPT

SUDAN

MAURITANIA

KENYA

ANGOLA

ZAMBIA

NAMIBIA

DEMOCRATICREPUBLIC OF

CONGO

RWANDA

BURUNDI

TANZANIA

BOTSWANA

SWAZILAND

LESOTHOREPUBLICOF SOUTH

AFRICA

MADAGASCAR

MAURITIUS

REUNION

COMOROS

SEYCHELLES

SOM

ALIA

UGANDA

CABINDA(ANGOLA)

IVORYCOAST GHANALIBERIA

SIERRALEONE

GUINEAGUINEABISSAU

THEGAMBIA

EQUATORIALGUINEA

CAMEROON

BURKINAFASO

MOROCCO

WESTERNSAHARA

TUNISIA

MOZAMBIQUE

MALAWI

NIGERIABENIN

CENTRAL AFRICANREPUBLIC

CO

NG

O

ZIMBABWE

CHAD

ETHIOPIA

GABON

SENEGAL

TOGO

MALI

NIGER

War Ð severe tension

Political instability and occasionalinternal clashes

Active zones for the Salafist group

Stable politically

Unstable sub-Saharan zones

Oil

Sub-Saharan zones withconcentrations of foreigninvestment

Minerals

ERITREA

x

Briefings: US Silence as Sahara Military Base Gathers Dust 589


intelligence services have not deliveredas originally expected.2 These same ten-sions within the intelligence serviceshave led to the public exposé of theactivities of the US Halliburton Com-pany in Algeria. In 1994, when theAlgerian military regime was at theheight of its ‘dirty war’ against Islamists,and the country technically bankrupt,the current US Vice President, DickCheney, in his capacity as HalliburtonCEO, initiated what many now regard asa thoroughly corrupt and illegal ar-rangement. This was that Halliburton’sengineering branch, Kellogg Brown &Root (49%) created a joint venture com-pany with Sonatrach (51%) (Algeria’sNational Oil Company), called BrownRoot Condor (BRC).3 President Boute-flika’s investigative report (leaked on 23July 2006) revealed that BRC had beengiven at least 26 major contracts, withouttendering, as is required by law, and atinflated prices (i.e. over-invoicing), in the major markets ofSonatrach, National Defence, the Minis-try of Energy and Mines and otherindustrial and real estate projects. How-ever, the element of this scandal thatmost damaged US-Algerian relations (andwhich received hardly any press cover-age) was that Russian military informa-tion services revealed to the leaders ofAlgeria’s military intelligence servicethat the sophisticated communicationssystem purchased in the USA by BRC onbehalf of Algeria’s General Staff hadbeen tampered with by US services sothat all Algeria’s military communica-tions were permanently connected toboth US and Israeli electronic intelli-gence systems.4

BRC has now been closed down. Moneyhas dried up. The huge military base thatBRC has been constructing in the middleof the Sahara, next to Tamanrasset’sairport, since 2001 and the focal ‘lilypad’in US EUCOM’s ill-conceived ‘War onTerror’ across the Sahara, has now beendeserted by construction workers andUS Special Forces. For the last five months,

Africa’s greatest monument to imperialover-reach has stood abandoned, sentrypill-boxes empty, dogs cocking their legsagainst its perimeter fortifications, gath-ering sand and dust in the middle of theSahara. A day’s drive south of it is theother legacy of America’s Saharan inter-vention: the escalating Tuareg rebellionsin Niger and Mali.

Endnotes

1. Keenan, J., ‘The banana theory of terrorism:alternative truths and the collapse of the“second“ (Saharan) front in the War on Terror’,Journal of Contemporary Africa Studies, Vol. 25,No. 1, 2007, pp. 31-58; ‘Security and Insecurityin North Africa’. ROAPE, Vol. 33, No. 108, 2006pp. 269-296.

2. This is evidenced, for example, by the factthat ROAPE has been able to keep up a runningcommentary on the shenanigans of the US-Algerian ‘war on terror’ since its launch in 2003.See ROAPE 98, 2003 et passim.

3. Keenan, J., ‘Military Bases, ConstructionContracts and Hydrocarbons in North Africa,ROAPE, Vol. 33, No 109, 2006, pp. 601-608.

4. Madjid Laribi, ‘Que cache le dossier Brown &Root Condor’, Le Maghrébin, 9 October 2006;‘Brown & Root Condor: une holding ”militaro-énergétique’”, Le Maghrébin, 13 November 2006.

Review of African Political Economy No. 113:591-608© ROAPE Publications Ltd., 2007

Book/Film ReviewsRwanda: L’histoire secréte by LieutenantAbdul Joshua Ruzibiza, Paris: Éditionsdu Panama, 2005; pp. 494; €€ 22 (pb);ISBN: 2755700939. Reviewed by LindaMelvern, freelance journalist.

We may never know who was responsi-ble for shooting down the jet aircraftkilling Rwanda’s president, JuvenalHabyarimana, in the night sky overKigali at 8.30 p.m. on 6 April 1994. Allthat is certain is that several eye wit-nesses saw two missiles fired – othersclaim there were three – and then hit theFalcon jet as it was coming in to land. Asthe wrecked plane lay smouldering inthe presidential garden, the rumoursbegan and today there is a plethora ofspeculation about who was responsible.The unlikelihood of an internationalinvestigation would give it the appear-ance of a perfect crime. The InternationalCivil Aviation Authority (ICAO) did notconduct an enquiry. The aircraft was astate aircraft in its own territory and so itwas not covered by the ICAO interna-tional convention. No investigation wasrequired and none was undertaken.

This event, which is popularly believedto have triggered the 1994 genocide, istoday of pivotal political importance forin November 2006, in a judicial reportpublished in France, it was claimed thatthe missile attack had been planned byand perpetrated by the current presidentof Rwanda, Paul Kagame. Almost imme-diately, international warrants were is-sued in Paris for Rwandan officialsnamed as responsible for the missileplot. These included senior Rwandamilitary and civilian officials who fromnow on will face restrictions on travel,especially within the European Union.

The report, written by a French investiga-tive magistrate, Judge Jean-LouisBruguière, further alleged that so keen totake power in Rwanda Kagame, whowas the military leader of the largelyTutsi Rwandan Patriot Front (RPF)which had fought a civil war for threeyears with the Hutu regime in Kigali,was prepared to risk the elimination ofthe Tutsi living in Rwanda. The ultimateinstigator of the 1994 genocide of theTutsi, according to Bruguière, wasKagame.

The response to the publication of theBruguière report was swift. TheRwandan ambassador in Paris was re-called, and in Kigali the French ambas-sador expelled. France was accused byRwanda officials of attempting to divertattention from Rwanda’s own investiga-tion in to the role of France in Rwandaand allegations that French military sup-port was given to the regime that perpe-trated the genocide. Furthermore, theFrench were accused of publishing thereport in order to further undermine theRwandan government, seen in Kigali asan ongoing process by the French whichhad never accepted an ‘anglophone’government of Rwanda.

A few weeks after the publication of theBruguière report and during public hear-ings in Kigali held in December 2006, ex-members of Rwandan government forcesand militias who participated in thegenocide alleged that they had beentrained by French instructors and gaveexamples of how French military equip-ment was delivered by France to Rwandaduring the genocide.



The credibility of the Bruguière reportrests on its witness testimony. The wit-nesses quoted in the report include de-fendants on charges of genocide at theInternational Criminal Tribunal forRwanda (ICTR), and defectors from theRPF. One of the key witnesses is theauthor of this book, Lt. Abdul JoshuaRuzibiza. His central accusation is thatthe RPF shot down the plane and that hehad been a witness to the planning of theattack and had taken part in it. Ruzibizahas repeated these allegations in testi-mony at the ICTR in defence of militaryofficers on genocide charges. His bookhas been admitted as evidence. He claimshe was a member of a ‘network com-mando’ created by the RPF leadership tocarry out political assassinations inRwanda on the orders of Kagame.

Ruzibiza’s own story is intriguing. Ac-cording to the Africa Editor of Le Soir(Brussels), Colette Braeckman, Ruzibizawas in Kampala in June 2003. She hadmet him there. He said he had fledRwanda in February 2001 ‘for securityreasons’. She said that the Ugandanintelligence service had given his nameto the French intelligence services, theDirection générale de la sécuritéextérieure (DGSE) who had ‘spirited’him out of Uganda and brought him toParis where he had made a statementbefore Bruguière. He had then soughtand obtained political asylum in Nor-way. In Kigali, his superiors in the RPFinsist that Ruzibiza was merely an auxil-iary nurse trained on the job, and whowas in Byumba in the north of Rwandain April 1994.

In Ruzibiza’s story about the assassina-tion of president Habyarimana he claimsthat the missiles were fired from a farmnear the airport on Massaka hill. Thereare flaws in his account not the least, asthe journalist Colette Braeckman hasshown, at that time Massaka was con-trolled by the presidential guard andFrench military officers and the one roadleading to it had eight roadblocks. The

farm itself belonged to Agathe Haby-arimana, the president’s wife, and ac-cess would have been all but impossiblefor RPF soldiers.

According to Bruguière, those who firedthe missiles at the plane left the evidencebehind them for in his report there aredetails of parts of missile launchers thatwere apparently found by peasants onMassaka hill a few weeks after the attack.The serial numbers of these particularlaunchers, according to Bruguière, provethat they came from Uganda, where theRPF had its bases. But this missileevidence was given to Bruguière by acolonel in the Rwanda army calledTheoneste Bagosora, currently on geno-cide charges at the ICTR, and the onemilitary officer most popularly creditedby the press as the being a genocide‘mastermind’. Indeed, the claim that itwas the RPF which shot down the planeis the foundation stone upon which thedefence case rests in these trials. Thedefendants and their lawyers claim thatan international conspiracy has pre-vented investigation of the crash in orderto protect the current leadership inRwanda. They claim that the genocide –far from being planned – was caused bythe spontaneous fury of the people at thedeath of their president and because theyfeared that the Tutsi RPF was coming toRwanda to enslave them. They allegedthat international opinion has beentricked into thinking that a genocide tookplace by an effective and educated ‘pro-Tutsi lobby’. With a denial of culpabilityin the missile attack, the defendants atthe ICTR challenge the legitimacy of thecourt, for in neither the court, nor any-where else, has there been an investiga-tion into the death of the former president.As Bagosora recently told the court, thereal culprits were

circulating misleading information so thatpeople should go after the wrong informa-tion and so cover up the true information.

Book/Film Reviews 593

A major blow to the credibility ofBruguière – and by extension this book –came at a press conference on 31 Novem-ber 2006 held at the ICTR when the pressspokesman stressed that in all theirrulings so far the judges had confirmedthe existence of a planned and systemati-cally organised conspiracy to commitgenocide. The assassinations and kill-ings could not be considered ‘a sponta-neous reaction’ to the assassination ofHabyarimana.

This book does not read well. Neitherdoes it effectively argue its case. Someparts of it are a seemingly endless list ofnames and places, of massacres andkillings. None of the information it con-tains is tried and tested. The book servesonly to muddy the waters for those stilltrying to fathom the 1994 genocide.

Aid and Influence: Do Donors Help orHinder? by Stephen Browne, London:Earthscan, 2006; pp.172, £17.99 (pb);ISBN: 1844072029. Reviewed by DavidWilliams, City University, London.

The title of this book is somewhat mis-leading. It suggests that the author isengaged in an orthodox assessment ofthe extent to which aid actually ‘works’to achieve its stated objectives. As such, itwould fit squarely with the host of otherrecent studies which take something likethis as their starting point. Usually thesestudies conclude that aid can ‘work’under some conditions, but that a greatdeal of it does not ‘work’, and indeedthat it is often counter-productive to thestated aims of aid donors. In turn thesestudies usually end with a series ofexhortations to donors and recipientsalike to help make aid ‘work’ better.Although Stephen Browne is not im-mune from this latter tendency, the thrustof his critique of donor policy is muchmore profound. And it is perhaps par-

ticularly powerful coming from someonewho has held a variety of senior posi-tions within the donor community (in-cluding as a Director within UNDP, andUN Coordinator of Development andHumanitarian Assistance in Rwandaand Ukraine).

Browne’s basic argument is that aid anddevelopment practice is donor driven.That is, although the provision of aid isjustified on developmental grounds, infact the forms that aid takes, the kinds ofpolicies advocated by donors, and thekinds of development practices used bydonors, derive from the domestic institu-tional and ideological environment thatdonors inhabit, and from the particularbureaucratic imperatives of donor agen-cies (aid agencies are organisations, afterall). Aid is in these senses profoundlyautobiographical. The great merit of thisargument is that it helps explain the‘dysfunctional’ (in a development sense)policies and practices pursued by do-nors, rather then seeing them as unfortu-nate deviations from some kind of ‘bestpractice’.

One implication of this kind of argu-ment, however, is that not much canreasonably be expected to change. Ofcourse aid policies and practices dochange (up to a point), but the donordriven nature of much aid provisiondoes not change so there is no very goodreason to think that ‘ownership’, ‘par-ticipation’, or ‘harmonisation’ (to usejust a few recent buzzwords) will makeany substantial difference to the aidrelationship, as recent critical studies ofthese issues have begun to show. Indeed,the more ways in which one comes to seethat aid is autobiographical, the harder itis to imagine that aid policies and prac-tices will ever come to reflect the realneeds and capabilities of aid recipients.Browne wrestles with this problem.Through the book he offers various kindsof recommendations. Many of them areeminently sensible: improved borrowercontrol over the types and forms of aid;


better local knowledge on the part of aiddonors; better aid coordination and re-duced use of conditionality. The troublewith these recommendations is thatBrowne gives not very good reasons forsupposing that donors will really makeany of these changes.

In the final chapter of the book, Brownemakes some more radical suggestionswhich involve, among other things, do-ing away with ‘donor cartelisation’, mak-ing international trade rules fairer, anddeveloping a proper market for technicalassistance. Again, of course, there aregood reasons for thinking that none ofthese things will come to pass. And thisis, finally, the problem, not so much withBrowne’s book, which is in many waysexcellent, but with any critical account ofaid: the more we know about why itdoesn’t work, the harder it is to think itcould be any different.

Unfinished Business: Ethiopia and Eritrea atWar, by Dominique Jacquin-Berdal &Martin Plaut (eds.), Trenton, NJ: The RedSea Press, 2005; pp. 294; $29.95 (pb);ISBN: 1569022178. Reviewed by TanjaMüller, University of Manchester.

This edited volume sets out to under-stand the dynamics behind the Eritrean-Ethiopian (border) war of 1998-2000, awar whose fighting phase ended in June2000 but for which a lasting settlementhas still not been found. The strength ofthe volume lies in its quite comprehen-sive coverage of underlying grievancesthat ultimately led to a full-scale inter-state war that neither side desired or hadplanned for, but that nonetheless bothsides engaged in with full strength andvigour once fighting had erupted at acontested geographical location alongthe common border.

The biggest single focus in untanglingthose dynamics is on different concep-tions of nationhood and identity sepa-rating the two protagonists, which arediscussed in their various guises. Inaddition, the volume sheds light oneconomic ties between the two states andthe hidden dynamics behind: on devel-opmental implications of the war withan explicit focus on food security orrather insecurity, and on regional di-mensions and implications of the con-flict. Last, but not least, the politics ofintervention by different actors withinthe international community, geared atfirst towards bringing the fighting phaseof the war to an end and later to find alasting long-term solution acceptable toboth sides, are discussed. The appendixmakes available a number of documents,including maps produced by the UnitedNations Mission in Ethiopia and Eritrea(UNMEE), the quasi international guard-ian of the Agreement on the Cessation ofHostilities signed by both countries in2000. The latter are difficult to access toanybody not resident in one of the twocountries and connected to any of theparties involved in the implementationprocess of that agreement. Taken to-gether, the volume is thus a valuablesource of information for those interestedin past and current relations between thetwo countries and the wider politicaland economic dynamics in the Horn ofAfrica.

The volume has a number of weak-nesses, however. It is on the wholehighly descriptive and many chapterslack an analytical component. Some ofits contributions in the main sum uppreviously published work, in particularthe chapters on the outbreak and con-duct of the war, as well as some of theissues discussed in relation to an inter-national response. While it is an innova-tive idea to have commissioned chapterson the personal views of journalists whofollowed the war on both sides of theborder (of which only a view from the‘Eritrean side’ materialised, a fact regret-


ted by the editors and not of theirmaking), such a personal account wouldhave benefited from some analyticalcontextualisation by the editors. Thiscould have shown what such accountscan offer in terms of facilitating anadditional level of understanding of thedynamics of that war – or any warindeed. As it stands, Last’s journalisticaccount is left standing alone as theindividual account of a ‘personal war’.

Another weakness of the volume is thatmany of its contributors – a notableexception is the refreshing history chap-ter written by Reid – are ‘old hands’ whohave been writing on the dynamicsbetween Ethiopia and Eritrea for dec-ades. They have, more often than not, apersonal involvement with one countryor the other, coupled with deeply en-grained convictions about the widerrights and wrongs of Eritrean nation-hood in the first place. This is in particu-lar a pity as quite a number of youngscholars have emerged , both from insideand outside both countries and on bothsides of the Atlantic, with a view lesstainted by such personal histories.

The book’s main weakness, however, isits lack of focus on ways forward to solvea conflict that still seems intractable tomany. The volume was published fiveyears after the fighting phase of the warended. One would thus have wishedthat the detailed discussions of what hascaused the war and how the interna-tional response has so far failed to find alasting solution is complemented by aframework on how such a solution mightbe achieved. Some of the contributionsdo at least touch on potential futuredirections, most notably the chapters byStyan and Cliffe. Styan argues that thethus far dangerously neglected aspect ofeconomic normalisation between the twocountries needs to be put high on anyagenda when engaging with the future.Cliffe argues in favour of political mobili-sation from below and above to arrive atdifferent patterns of regional coopera-

tion, a mobilisation that could start withvarious forms of civil society dialogue.While even the possibility for such ac-tion seems a long way off at present,conflicts in other parts of the world haveshown that such initiatives are possible,often against the odds at the outset.

A comparative perspective might havehad something to contribute here. As itstands, the volume partly leaves thereader with this all too familiar taste of awar somewhere in ‘Africa’ that is intrac-table and potentially follows a logic wecannot quite fully understand, howeverhard we try.

The Political Economy of the Great LakesRegion in Africa. The Pitfalls of EnforcedDemocracy and Globalization, by StefaanMarysse & Filip Reyntjens (eds.),Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005;pp. 243; £60.00 (hb). ISBN: 1403949506.Reviewed by Saskia Van Hoyweghen,Vrije Universiteit Brussel.

This volume results from the ongoingwork of a group of scholars linked to theInstitute of Development Policy and Man-agement of the University of Antwerp.Since 1999 the IDPM has published anannual edited collection on the GreatLakes, but as these excellent volumes arepublished in French they have a morelimited audience. This English editioncould be described as a ‘best of’ theFrench yearbooks, but it is also morethan that, since all included chaptershave been updated.

The book is in two parts, one on Rwandaand one on the Democratic Republic ofthe Congo. There has always been moreinterest generally in developments inRwanda and the DRC then in Burundi.Maybe this is the reason why Burundihas been left out, despite the fact thatexcellent scholarship is available at the


IDPM. The editors have tried to find themiddle ground between a volume givinga general overview of the region forreaders less familiar with the GreatLakes and a more specialised approachdealing with quite specific topics such asmalnutrition in Kinshasa. People whohave previous experience with Rwandaand the DRC will therefore have thetendency to flick through certain sec-tions of the book quite quickly. Otherswho are new to the region, might be a bitlost as an edited volume always containssome overlap and voids. The ‘PoliticalEconomy’ in the title of the volume istherefore a bit misleading. It is not apolitical economy analysis as such andit does not provide us with a comprehen-sive analysis. It deals with a broadvariety of economic and political topicspertaining to the region.

The first part, about Rwanda, containssome of the most critical scholarship onRwanda that is available in English.Filip Reyntjens starts of with an unset-tling analysis of the post-genocideRwandan government. After being pre-sented with a detailed overview of itspolicies, one indeed has to agree that theRwandan government has received toomuch credit and preferential treatmentby the international community. WhileRwanda is often praised for its verytechnocratic approach and much moreprofessional style of government (in con-trast to neighbours Burundi and Congo),Ansoms and Marysse conclude in chap-ter 2 that Rwanda has not made anyprogress in terms of poverty reductionand that inequality has dangerouslyrisen. Both these chapters send us alarm-ing warning signals that Rwanda is noton the road to recovery (be it socially,politically or economically) and thatrenewed (ethnic) violence is not unim-aginable. Chapters 3 and 4 are morecontemplative. Eminence grise, RénéLemarchand, explains why the Rwandangenocide differs from the holocaust.Vandeginste and Huyse ponder ifconsociational theory can offer solutions

for deeply divided societies such asRwanda. This is a very interesting chap-ter in many ways although the remediesthey suggest do not address the realproblem. Ethnicity is not the source ofRwanda’s problem but the outcome.

The second part on the DR Congo is a bitof a mixed bag. Marysse puts Congo’sbleak economic outlook after many yearsof war into figures and charts. He fo-cuses both on the plunder by neighbour-ing countries and the Congolese stateitself which, it can indeed be argued, hasbeen robbing its own citizens. ErikKennes’ contribution complements thisargument, stating that Congo is notreally a victim of globalisation (i.e. plun-der or unfair deals by foreign compa-nies). The relationship between a corruptand incapable Congolese state and theinternational mining industry is, arguesKennes, much more complex. The chap-ter gives a good insight to people unfa-miliar with the mining industry in Congoand has been updated to include thelatest developments and some futurescenarios. Chapter 7 discusses two of thehot spots in Congo’s last war, namelyKivu and Ituri, drawing some compari-sons between both regions. A short chap-ter 8 by De Herdt and Tshimangadiscusses how ordinary people in Kin-shasa have survived the war economi-cally – mainly by looking at food (interms of price evolution, consumptionpatterns, household budgets etc.).


Voices of Protest: Social Movements in Post-apartheid South Africa by Richard Ballard,Adam Habib & Imraan Valodia (eds.),Scotsville: University of KwaZulu-Natal,2006; pp. 437; £25.00 (pb). ISBN:1869140893. Reviewed by David P. Tho-mas, University of Victoria, Canada.

Voices of Protest brings together a richcollection of empirical studies on socialmovements in post-apartheid South Af-rica. An accessible and compelling read,the book covers a remarkable 16 move-ments in total, with a chapter devoted toeach one. From the Soweto ElectricityCrisis Committee (SECC) to the Self-Employed Women’s Union (SEWU), thisbook provides an excellent overview ofthe various social movements currentlyactive within the country. Moreover, therising influence and importance of thesemovements in South Africa (and beyond)certainly warrants such a discussion.

The book begins with an introduction bythe editors, which includes a survey ofsocial movement theories, and a generaldescription of the post-apartheid politi-cal and socio-economic conditions un-der which the movements emerged. Afterthe ruling African National Congress(ANC) embraced the ‘Washington con-sensus’ in the immediate aftermath of thetransition to democracy, resistance sur-faced within marginalised communitiesacross the country. According to theeditors, the growth in social movementactivism has largely been a reaction to‘neo-liberal globalisation’ which wasembodied by the ANC’s implementationof GEAR (Growth, Employment, andRedistribution) in 1996. Rising unem-ployment, poverty, and inequality in thenew South Africa have driven manycommunities to seek creative ways tosustain themselves. Thus, a diversity ofsocial movements has emerged in astruggle for survival, and in some casesto more directly contest the ANC’sneoliberal political project.

Voices of Protest covers an impressiverange of social movements that addressissues such as privatisation, land re-form, women’s rights, the environment,homelessness, refugees, and HIV/AIDS.Furthermore, each chapter of the bookpresents a wealth of empirical dataregarding the particular movement un-der analysis. The book’s contributorsprovide detailed accounts of the origin,structure, leadership, and activities ofthe movements in question, while alsodiscussing the broader implications ofthe movement’s struggle. The variousauthors combine a comprehensive knowl-edge of the post-apartheid political con-text with valuable primary research,including a plethora of interviews. Forexample, chapter 2 on the TreatmentAction Campaign (TAC) draws on 18interviews, in addition to substantialtheoretical literature. Overall, the vari-ous movements are documented anddiscussed thoroughly, resulting in anextremely productive and timely piece ofscholarship.

There are, however, a few issues thatrequire further analysis on the importanttopic of social movements in South Af-rica. This is not necessarily a criticism ofthe book, but perhaps a suggestion forfurther research and debate. First, thereis very little discussion in the chaptersregarding the existence of, or potentialfor, cooperation and collaboration be-tween the various social movements. Thequestion remains: to what extent do/canthe multiplicity of movements work to-gether, or is this even desirable? Many ofthe issues addressed by these socialmovements are inextricably connected toone another (land, housing, water, HIV/AIDS, etc.). Thus, it would be interestingto assess the degree of collaborationamong the movements today, and thepotential opportunities or barriers forfuture cooperation.

My second point of concern involves theconnection between social movementtheory and the empirical analysis con-


tained in the book. The Conclusion toVoices of Protest brings together many ofthe themes discussed throughout thebook, and also touches on the issues oftheory building and the implications ofsocial movement activism on democracyand development. While the editors’analysis is thought-provoking, multipleresearch questions emerge from this finalchapter. For example: to what extent arethe social movements capable of creatingand implementing an alternative socio-economic political project in South Af-rica (or beyond)? Do they need to capturethe state, or can a sustainable politicalproject be constructed outside of thestate? And what is the relationshipbetween the various social movementsand the traditional ‘left’ forces within theTripartite Alliance? Perhaps the mark ofan outstanding book is its ability tostimulate further discussion and re-search. This collection will almost cer-tainly do just that, as it provides acomprehensive, intelligent, and engag-ing assessment of social movements inSouth Africa.

‘Darwin’s Nightmare’: ACritical AssessmentThomas Molony, Lisa Ann Richey &Stefano Ponte1

Introduction: Sauper’s ‘Heart ofDarkness’

‘Darwin’s Nightmare’ (Hubert Sauper;2004, France/Austria/Belgium,107 min)is a documentary film about the Nileperch fishing industry around Lake Vic-toria in Tanzania. Since its release in2004, it continues to generate accoladesand criticisms that fall outside of con-ventional ideological boundaries fa-voured by globalisation’s fans and itsdiscontents. The film’s director, HubertSauper has been embraced and rebukedby those claiming to promote the inter-ests of the film’s subjects. Yet the film hasnot yet been taken seriously as a discur-sive construction of particular ideologiesof development, nor has it been subjectedto the scrutiny necessary in order tounderstand the film’s power to confirm,for a popular audience, much of whatthey think they know is ‘true’ aboutAfrica and how such a representationcan be both problematic and dangerous.

In the film, lawless ‘fish cities’ havemushroomed around the filleting facto-ries, peopled by fishermen, prostitutesand feral, glue-sniffing children. Factoryowners have grown relatively rich on theproceeds of a thriving export industry,while the locals eat the dried leftovers.AIDS ravages the fishing settlementsand, when the dying fishermen limphome to be comforted by their relatives,AIDS destroys the inland villages aswell. Fish are responsible for all ofmodernity’s ills, including the crashingof cargo planes around Mwanza airportbecause they are too heavily laden withNile perch fillets for the European dinnertable.


While we are not averse to relevantcriticisms of globalisation, internationaltrade, African gender relations, geo-politics and biopolitics, we argue herethat such a totalising vision of Tanzania,Africa and international developmentreduces gender relations, sexuality, socio-economic change, homelessness, pov-erty and complicated vectors of diseasetransmission into stale tropes associatedwith Afro-pessimism. We contend that‘Darwin’s Nightmare’ is an ethicallydubious piece of journalism that exploitsthe power imbalances it claims to cri-tique.

Social Darwinism

The film harks back to the late nineteenthcentury sweep of ‘social Darwinism’ – apopular corruption of Darwin’s theoryof evolution by natural selection. Somewhites predicted on this basis that the‘Negro’ race (the term used at the time)would be extinct by 1900. Their idea wasthat Darwin’s ‘survival of the fittest’implied a competition between races thatthe ‘Negroes’ would lose. (It is worthnoting that ‘survival of the fittest’ wasfirst used by a philosopher, HerbertSpencer; and it bears repeating that‘social Darwinism’ is a misconceptionand misapplication of Darwin’s actualtheory). This popular belief was sharedby some white physicians, who thoughtthat it was confirmed by ‘defects’ inblack peoples’ anatomy, and thereforebecame obsessed with the details of suchpresumed imperfections. Although com-parable defects in white patients wentunreported, those in black patients weredescribed in great detail in medicaljournals and became the basis for sweep-ing conclusions, for example, that geni-tal and brain development were said tovary inversely. Social competition wasassumed to be the essential characteris-tic of human nature understood throughbiological reality.2 ‘Darwin’s Nightmare’is meant to refer to the pariah Nile perchfish (Lates niloticus) that feeds on thevery social fabric of Mwanza, Tanza-

nia’s most populated region. It can alsorefer to the nightmare perpetuated bythis film of social Darwinism, wherenature and global trade relations areportrayed as red in tooth and claw. Thisis not a new perspective on Africandevelopment issues but a reiteration ofnineteenth century pseudo-science. Theimplication seems to be that Africanswill annihilate themselves because theyare not fit enough to negotiate in theEuropean’s modern world.

As we all know, ‘globalisation’ and‘modernisation’ are contentious, jaggedamalgamations of contradictory compo-nents. Some of the forces that perpetuatethe spread of HIV are the same onesresponsible for ‘empowerment’ of womenwithin families, families within commu-nities and communities as part of aglobal vision of ‘development’. Moremoney can indeed mean more prostitu-tion, family disintegration and diseasespread as implied in this film, but lessmoney can also mean the same.3 Thisfilm perpetuates a common patronisingbelief among the elite that when the poorget money they will spend it on thewrong things, like the Mwanza fisher-men indulging themselves in purchasesof beer and sex.

Representation, Sources &Credibility

Indian feminist Uma Narayan arguesthat representation of ‘other’ cultures inthe mainstream Western media is not aproblem of omission, but instead thatWestern representations have beendeeply involved in perpetuating nega-tive stereotypes and imputations of cul-tural inferiority (Narayan, 1997).4 HubertSauper’s film, produced under the guiseof a documentary (and categorised assuch, and not ‘fiction’), uses the Tanza-nia subject as a reflecting pool for ameditation on the big, bad West. This isexecuted in such a way that viewers areblinded by the incredible whiteness ofbeing, under the guise of ‘progressive


politics’ à la Michael Moore.5 In spite ofthe fact that the authors of this articleand the maker of the film are all Europe-based white people speaking about Af-rica, this does not imply that we have onevoice or that we speak with the samecredibility, accountability or bias. Suchissues are frequently raised in internetdiscussions about the film, where vitu-perative remarks are regularly exchangedbetween those who laud the director forexposing the evils of a ‘system’ largelysupported by outsiders, and those whocontest Sauper’s evidence and questionhis methods.6

The film exploits the perception that‘Africans know everything about Africa’in ways that pervert notions of perspec-tive or authenticity. For example, the filmrelies on Raphael (whose surname isvariously reported as Luchikio orTukiko), the night watchman of theFisheries Research Institute in Mwanza,to provide the appropriate assessmentand analysis of the impact of interna-tional trade and fishing on Tanzania’slocal communities. Instead of speakingfor his own condition, perhaps notingthat he himself earns a salary, meagre asit is, from the fishing industry, he iscajoled into playing amateur social sci-entist for a filmmaker eager to ‘indigenise’his own voice. Staged in darkened foot-age as the ‘savage’, the night watchmanis armed with only a bow and poisonedarrows and describes how he does notfear war and must be ‘ready for fights’.7

Yet his arsenal is clearly not depicted asprepared for ‘modern’ battles. As a per-formance of ‘local knowledge’, he ishired to read aloud from an article in TheEast African newspaper.

Similarly, the impact of HIV/AIDS on alocal fishing community is assessed bythe village pastor, his subjective demog-raphy of slightly confusing statistics (‘45to 50 fishermen dead in the lake’, and ‘10to 15 dead every month in his area’) isfollowed by questioning in the film thatmakes him appear, at best, impractical in

his solutions to HIV/AIDS devastation.Yet why should a documentary ask apastor if he teaches about condom us-age? This makes no more sense thanasking the local clinic staff if they pre-scribe prayer as the medical cure for sin.What it does achieve is to privilege hisperspective on how AIDS is affecting hisvillage and then invalidate his ownbeliefs about his religious interpretationof the disease. Jonathan, supposedly ‘theonly painter in town’ is given a similarrole to play, assessing the realities ofstreet children and abuse.

Local voices that could be in contrast tothe film’s ideological path are consist-ently absent. Where are the interviewswith the men and women who work inthe fish factory? How can the selection ofthree sex workers (who appear intoxi-cated as they are questioned over drinksat the New Mwanza Hotel) and fivestreet children (shown high on glue) beconsidered representative of the local‘stakeholders’ in the international fish-ing industry? And of the other destitutechildren shown cooking and fightingover food, Richard Mgamba (the journal-ist who helped Sauper after being toldthe film planned ‘to market Lake Victoriaand the fishing industry to the rest of theglobe’), reports that they

were paid between Tshs 1,000/- and Tshs5,000/- by the producers of the film andthe[n] directed [to] do what they aredoing, paving the way for my guest to filmwhat they termed ‘striking images’.8

This account is supported by the painterJonathan and others such as Mangeuand Matekere who recall that, in ex-change for cash, they were directed bySauper on how he wanted them to act.9

Sauper’s claim that he and his crew ‘hadto be very close to our “characters“ andfollow their lives over long periods’10

should therefore be interrogated. Yet,glowing reviews in the popular presspraise the director’s ‘admirable facilityfor getting close enough to his remark-


ably unguarded subjects’ in a film ‘en-riched by the candor and dignity of itsshockingly deprived interview subjects.’11

Not that Sauper demonstrated a pen-chant for getting his facts right. Hisdepiction of hapless ‘scientists’ discuss-ing resource management issues in alocal workshop was fairly indicative.But this time, the ‘other’ talked back. TheLake Victoria Fisheries Organisation andIUCN, The World Conservation Union,replied to Sauper in their poignant pub-lic letter, dated 8 December 2005:

What you have titled as the ‘IUCNEcological Congress’ was in fact the‘International Workshop on CommunityParticipation in Fisheries Management onLake Victoria’, organised jointly by theLake Victoria Fisheries Organization andThe World Conservation Union (IUCN).Had you stayed in the workshop for morethan 15 minutes, you would have realisedthat the workshop was in fact definingways to devolve some of the responsibili-ties and rewards of fisheries managementto local communities. While communityempowerment does not translate intopoverty alleviation overnight, it is acritical initial step to improve the lives ofcommunities. The government ministers,scientists, industry and community rep-resentatives at that meeting would havegladly informed you about the purpose ofthe workshop, and their view of the impactof the Lake Victoria fisheries on fishingcommunities in Tanzania, had you asked.12

Fish Exports Hurt LocalEconomies?

One of the main claims that the filmmakes is that Nile perch exports are‘bad’ for Tanzania. This comes throughmost forcefully when images of packedfish fillets are loaded on Ilyushin cargoplanes, while news of food scarcity in thecountry, due to drought, is broadcast onthe radio.

The view that the multiplier effect ofexporting Nile perch13 is what could beactually needed in such a situation isnever entertained. Food emergency sys-tems in case of shortages are based ondry grains, in Tanzania, mostly maize.These grains are easy to store and trans-port, readily available in the global mar-ket, relatively cheap, and a preferredfood staple in Tanzania (although ricewould be a locally-preferred food aroundLake Victoria). The oily sangala/sangara(as Nile perch is known in Tanzania)14 isnot a locally-preferred food; it is an exoticspecies that was introduced in the lakeby British colonial officers in the 1950s. Itis also very difficult to handle for localfood distribution – to be eaten fresh, itneeds a cold chain that would make itunaffordable to most Tanzanians whomay be in need of food supplies; it is alarge fish, difficult and expensive to dry,smoke and/or fry, the only forms it canbe traded without a cold chain.15 In otherwords, despite what Sauper implies, itcan not be used to alleviate food short-ages in Tanzania. Not catching andexporting it would likely mean morehouseholds without income who wouldadd to the count of the food deficientpopulation. The film fosters a view ofhunger as lack of food, as opposed tolack of access to food – pace AmartyaSen.16

A second misrepresentation that thedocumentary carries out is that the coast-line is totally dependent on fish exports.First, there is a substantial fishing indus-try that caters for local and regionalmarkets; this handles tilapia and dagaa,a dry or fried sardine-type fish thatconstitutes the bulk of regional fishtrade.17 The local market for Nile perchheads and bones is actually quite smallin comparison to these other markets. Itis also decreasing in importance, assome fish factories have been makingmore use of left-overs on the frame tomanufacture fish fillets and burgers andfor animal feed,18 and others have beenexporting the fish products to the Demo-


cratic Republic of Congo, Kenya, Malawiand Zambia.19 Second, the fish exportindustry in Tanzania is not a ‘multi-billion dollar’ industry as the documen-tary claims; Nile perch exports fromTanzania amount to less than $100million annually. Third, the regions thatsurround Lake Victoria in Tanzania arenot ‘totally dependent on fish’ as isclaimed in the film. Such an assertion isincorrect and has led a respected BBCfilm reviewer to tell his audience that

the inhabitants of the lake [presumablylocal Mwanzans, and not the fish] are nowimpoverished, and the only industry left tothem consists of processing the Nile perchand selling it off to Europe.20

There is substantial rice and cottoncultivation and large mining investments,not to speak of commercial and serviceactivities in Mwanza. Yet it would ap-pear from this film that prostitutionservices is all that Tanzania’s fastestgrowing city has to offer. The documen-tary also claims two plane-loads a day(between 90 and 130 tons of fish filletsaltogether, depending on the type ofaircraft) translate into ‘2 million whitepeople eat[ing] Victoria-fish every day.’That would mean a fish portion of 4grams per ‘white person’ per day. Thepreferred fish fillet size in Europeansupermarkets is somewhere between 200and 500 grams, for preparations for 2 to 4people.

A third twist that the documentary doesis to forcefully link fishing to all thingsthat are wrong with Tanzanian society.One of the film’s opening scenes is of asex worker singing ‘Tanzania, Tanza-nia, nakupenda kwa moyo wote …’ (Tanza-nia, I love you with all of my heart) whilea rude European pilot mocks her. This isnot translated, and so to a foreign audi-ence means nothing. To a Swahili speaker,on the other hand, the scene also shows apowerful portrait of a woman whosepride of place and identity remain intact,even under the assaults of the brutish

‘johns’.21 Her words appear to be lost onSauper, or at least are left untranslated soto depersonalise the sex worker andreveal yet another heart of darkness.

Further, while we do not want to makelight of the conditions of street childrenin Mwanza, their plight is not funda-mentally different to that of those in othercities, where the fishing industry is notoperating. Subtle omissions are replacedby a blatantly skewed translation in oneof the film’s rare daylight scenes when aTanzanian working for the film inter-views a group of street children by thelake. He asks one of the street children inclearly audible Swahili, Baba yako,anafanya kazi gani? (‘What work doesyour father do?’), to which the child saysWanalima (‘They farm’) – translated withthe subtitle ‘He is on the water.’ Thechild repeats, Wanalima. A second childis then asked, ‘Is your dad also a fisher-man?’ The child says, ‘My dad is dead.’Then the interviewer returns to the firstchild (whose father is not a fisherman,but was misleadingly translated intosaying that he was) and asks: ‘Do youwant to be a fisherman like your dad?’and the child says, Sitaki (‘I don’t wantto’). Such clear manipulation of thesubtitles to make this appear to be agroup of street children abandoned bytheir parents at the will of the global fishindustry is the epitome of poor journal-ism. That it presumably comes from‘good’ or ‘progressive’ intentions doesnothing for the cause of any genuineanti-capitalist critique.

Research-based evidence shows that fish-ing households have on average higherincomes than purely farming house-holds on Lake Victoria.22 Fishing canhelp raise cash to get access to agricul-tural inputs and hired labour (i.e., forcotton cultivation in the hinterlands ofMwanza) and is thus likely to increaseproductivity and income in farms. Weare not arguing here that higher incomesnecessarily entail better welfare of house-holds and communities. However, we


take stance against the documentarywhen it portrays how fishermen withcash ‘squander’ their money on drinkand prostitutes. The equation for Sauperis: no cash = poverty; cash = perdition.

Mwanza, Famous or Infamousfor Street Children & HIV/AIDS?

Mwanza is in fact well-known amongresearchers on issues of both HIV/AIDSand street children for two reasons,neither of which is acknowledged in thefilm. Mwanza is home to one of the oldestand most successful grassroots NGOsdealing with problems of street childrenin Africa. Named from a Swahili wordmeaning ‘to nurture one another’, Kuleanahas been a Tanzanian-led centre forhousing street children and for advocat-ing for the rights of all children since1992. The problem of homeless childrenis severe in Mwanza town, but if the filmhad explored the actual problem, insteadof its archetype as globalisation’s repug-nance, Kuleana could have provided someperspective.

Mwanza is also the site of the firstdefinitive medical research linking treat-ment of sexually-transmitted diseaseswith prevention of HIV transmission. Inthe late 1990s, the now famous ‘Mwanzastudy’ conducted by an internationalteam of public health experts showedthat treating sexually-transmitted dis-eases could reduce rates of HIV trans-mission.23 This study has provided usefuldata for advocates of better primaryhealth care provision and increased at-tention to sexual and reproductive healthas a matter of life and death. While thelevel of health care provision in Mwanzaremains in need of improvement, thereare anti-retroviral drugs for the treatmentof AIDS at the regional hospital, fundsfrom the US President’s Emergency Planfor AIDS Relief (PEPFAR), and mobilehealth clinics funded by the ClintonFoundation. AIDS clearly is a devastat-ing disease in the Lake Victoria commu-nities as the film depicts. Nevertheless,

this should be placed in the perspectivethat the area is better-equipped thanmost of sub-Saharan Africa to deal withthe situation.

Fish for Arms?

Could ‘awakening’ the European con-sumers of Nile perch to the negativeexternalities of the industry stop themfrom consuming the fish? This mayalready have started if the BBC’s NickFraser is correct; that Darwin’s Night-mare – ‘one of the most shocking filmsmade in recent years’ – has ensured thatNile perch has been removed from Frenchsupermarkets.24 If so, would this possi-bly make the lives any better for thefishing communities in Mwanza?

Perhaps a focus on the fishing industryis missing the point of the film. Thetrailer to the film (in French) concentratesexclusively on what could only be de-scribed as his fish-for-arms ‘specula-tion’, where Nile perch is flown to theWest in huge cargo planes that appar-ently return to Tanzania with weaponsto fuel Africa’s conflicts.25 This idea wasborn during Sauper’s ‘research’ on an-other of his documentaries, KisanganiDiary, that follows Rwandese refugees ofthe Congolese rebellion. He recalls on theofficial ‘Darwin’s Nightmare’ websitethat,

… it turned out that the rescue planeswith yellow peas also carried arms to thesame destinations, so that the same refu-gees that were benefiting from the yellowpeas could be shot at later during thenights … First hand knowledge of thestory of such a cynical reality became thetrigger for ‘Darwin’s Nightmare’.

Sauper’s use of the word ‘trigger’ is noaccident. The French-language advertis-ing poster for Le Cauchemar de Darwin(and the cover of the DVD in widestcirculation in Tanzania) is of three whiteimages against a black background: thefirst, a sketch of a fish.


The second, the skeleton of a fish withthe anal fins replaced by the trigger andmagazine of an assault rifle; the third, anassault rifle. The implication is that thefilm will show how fish somehow turnin to, or are exchanged for, weapons. Ifthere is any doubt, then the Spanish-language poster for ‘La Pesa-dilla deDarwin’ is more striking still, with theblack background contrasting againstthe blood-red stencil of a fish that has thebutt of an assault rifle for a tail.26 Review-ers have taken the bait, and have pro-vided prospective film viewers withpredictably Afro-pessimistic appraisals:

To make the journey profitable, the planesthat collect the fish now come filled up witharms. In addition to destroying the envi-ronment, the West has also increased thelikelihood of conflict in Africa,

reads the review by BBC’s film critic for‘Storyville’.27 The film critic for the NewYork Post is even briefer in his prognosis:‘Africa starves because corrupt govern-ments own the natural resources andexport them to buy weapons to keep theirpeople at bay.’28

This has irked the Government of Tanza-nia, a country that has welcomed refu-gees from neighbouring countries andfor many years worked hard to negotiatepeace in the Great Lakes region. Presi-dent Julius Nyerere, known as ‘the fatherof the nation’, gained the reputation asan international statesman in part for hisefforts to these ends. His successors,particularly the current president, JakayaKikwete, have taken a key role in thesenegotiations. In a televised address fromthe Bank of Tanzania Institute inMwanza on 31 July 2006, a visibly angryMr. Kikwete argued that the film hadfailed to provide specific evidence link-ing fish exports to the arms trade: ‘One of

the biggest lies in the film is that the planesthat are coming to pick fish from Mwanzabring weapons that are used to destabilisethe Great Lakes region.29

President Kikwete asked Sauper to pro-vide evidence linking fish exports to thearms trade, because there is none in thefilm.30 Several times in the film, Sauperasks his informants, ‘What do the air-craft bring into Tanzania? Do they comeempty?’ No evidence is provided and attimes the director is laughed at by thosehe asks. Still, he continues throughoutthe film, persistently quizzing pilots andalso grilling, as James Christopher of theNew York Times puts it, ‘the factorymanagers, the fishermen, the urchinsand the prostitutes.’31 Nobody entertainsSauper’s hypothesis until finally an air-man confesses to having had ‘two flightsfrom Europe to Angola with big ma-chines like tanks’. Yet the airman makesno mention of having stopped in Mwanzaor anywhere else in Tanzania.

The omission of a date line for theseevents is also significant. Angola’sbloody civil war ran for 27 years from1975, and of course weapons were deliv-ered to Angola because governmenttroops and UNITA rebel forces werefighting each other and needed arms andammunition to do so. While there is nodirect suggestion in the film that Tanza-nia assisted in the supply of weapons forthe Angola conflict, this does seem to beimplied. This is most obvious in refer-ences to the article by Richard Mgambawhich suggests that Mwanza has beenused for the delivery of arms en route toother countries.32 Since Mgamba wrotehis report there have been allegationslinking Tanzania to illegal arms traffick-ing, the most forceful being a report byMwanakijiji that uses evidence fromUnited States intelligence, among othersources.33 The article also refers to a UNreport on arms smuggling and traffick-ing with the Democratic Republic ofCongo which reveals that Mwanza air-port allows flights that do not complywith international civil aviation rules,and provides photographs of ‘suspi-cious airplanes sighted by the Group ofExperts on 16 November 2005 at Mwanzaairport.’34 The film fails to comment on


any such evidence, nor is Sauper able toprovide any evidence of his own.

The Embassy of the United Republic ofTanzania in France concluded thatSauper stumbled upon the perch themebecause of his lack evidence about weap-ons being flown into Mwanza.35 On theofficial website’s page entitled ‘Filmingin the Heart of Darkness’, and withremarkable similarities to Conrad’s work,Sauper describes:

Forced idleness became a dull routine. Wewould sit in the merciless equatorial sunsurrounded by a million Nile Perchskeletons, the local’s food, trying not to gomad.36

Under such conditions one might specu-late that Sauper was tempted to lookeven harder for the weapons he hadheard about years ago when working inanother country on ‘Kisangani Diary’.The outcome is a film that, as the NewYork Times film reviewer A. O. Scott putsit, ‘turns the fugitive, mundane facts thatare any documentary’s raw materialsinto the stuff of tragedy and prophecy.’37

Tanzania’s Nightmare, Sauper’sDream

Undoubtedly Sauper and his promoters’sensationalisation of the ‘fish-for-arms’boosted sales and has helped advertisetheir film. President Kikwete, by devot-ing his entire nationwide month-endaddress to ‘Darwin’s Nightmare’, un-wittingly handed Sauper the best public-ity he could have hoped for. While fewTanzanians still appear to have watchedthe film, the national media discussed itat length. The Daily News supported thegovernment (predictably, some mightsay),38 while Uwazi, a Swahili-languagetabloid, was forced to make an uncondi-tional public apology to the NationalAssembly for publishing a cartoon thatallegedly belittled a Member of Parlia-ment’s condemnation of the film.39 Coun-terfeit DVDs of the Filamu ya Mapanki, as

it became known, began to be sold on thestreets, presumably to make a profit fromthose who might want to see for them-selves what all the fuss was about.40

Internationally ‘Darwin’s Nightmare’had become more than Sauper couldhave dreamt of in terms of publicity.Domestically it had turned into what onecommentator has termed ‘a parliamen-tary nightmare’.41 The nightmare per-petuated when the Government ofTanzania apparently reacted with whatSauper described as a ‘campaign ofintimidation’ against people who spokeout against the film.42 According to theEconomist Intelligence Unit, the govern-ment threatened to deport some of thejournalists who were interviewed in thefilm:

Richard Mgamba of The Citizen newspa-per was apparently harassed by theauthorities and threatened with deporta-tion to Kenya, even though he is aTanzanian citizen. He fled Mwanza, ow-ing to fears that a demonstration againstthe film – organised by the local authoritiesand held in early August [2006] – wouldspiral out of control.43

A website entitled ‘The Otherside of thisDocumentary: Know the truth about thisdocumentary film’44 has appeared in abid to defend ‘Brand Tanzania’ on theinternational stage. There are no formalacknowledgements that the site is sup-ported by the government, but it is likelythat it is the product of a resolutionpassed by Parliament that, ‘[t]o cleansethe country’s name … recommended theproduction of a documentary that willcounter the allegations by giving a truepicture of Nile Perch business in LakeVictoria’.45 It offers a gallery of photos(mostly fish, but a couple of doctoredimages of Sauper posing with SaddamHussein and Osama bin Laden) and anopportunity to send articles to thewebmaster. As with visitors’ commentsin the discussion pages, all the articlesare unified in their condemnation of thefilm. One article by the Ministry of


Natural Resources systematically attacksthe film with clarifications pointing out,for example, that the aircraft used totransport the fish are contracted by com-panies in Europe, not the Tanzanianprocessors.46 Another official statement,from the Embassy of the United Republicof Tanzania in France, contests the film’sassertion that globalisation has forcedTanzania to ‘condemn the majority of itspopulation to … slavery, prostitution,and drug addiction.’47

The site’s pièce de résistance are videoclips of interviews with people workingin the fish industry and with some of theyoung ‘actors’ featured in the film. Ac-counts of the events leading up to the‘Otherside’ interviews are anecdotal, andit is not difficult to identify who commis-sioned them, given the Parliamentaryresolution mentioned earlier. Yet it isunclear what pressure, if any, the inter-viewees who had featured in the filmwere under to speak out about how thefilm research and filming took place.Speaking from the safety of Europe,Sauper expressed his concern that,

[t]he very last thing you want as a film-maker is for the people you left behind to bein danger.

By the time the ‘Otherside’ interviewstook place the young men who feature inthe film would have quickly realisedhow Sauper manipulated their wordsand deeds to fit his own agenda. Underquestioning, they tell viewers the ‘truth’about this documentary film and theactions of the director who shunned hisresponsibilities to vulnerable people. Oneof Sauper’s comments during an inter-view on the ethics of free trade andfilmmaking is more accurate, and perti-nent, than the director intended andprovides a fitting coda to this review:‘There isn’t anything new in my movie.It’s all known.’48

Endnotes

1. Thomas Molony is Research Fellow, Centre ofAfrican Studies, University of Edinburgh. andPostdoctoral Research Fellow, School ofGeography, Archaeology and EnvironmentalStudies, University of the Witwatersrand, SouthAfrica. Lisa Ann Richey is Associate Professorof International Development Studies, Institutefor Society and Globalisation, Roskilde Univer-sity, Denmark. Stefano Ponte is Senior Researcher,Danish Institute for International Studies. Weare thankful to Ben Jones for constructivecriticism and feedback.

2. See Eric B. Ross (1998), The Malthus Factor:Poverty, Politics and Population in CapitalistDevelopment, London: Zed, 1998.

3. For examples from Mwanza, see K. CoenFlynn (2005), Food, Culture, and Survival in anAfrican City, New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

4. U. Narayan (1997), Dislocating Cultures:Identities, traditions, and Third-World feminism,New York: Routledge.

5. Sauper is so persuasive at this that his filmwas nominated under the ‘Best DocumentaryFeatures’ category at the 2006 Academy Awards.Other hopefuls were ‘Enron: The Smartest Guysin the Room’, ‘Murderball’ and ‘Street Fight’. Hisfilm was not awarded an Oscar.

6. For example, see discussion fora on<www.imdb.com> or <www.darwins nightmare.net>, postings on <http://mettyz-bongoland-reflections.blogspot.com/> andpodcasts on <http://mwanakijiji.podomatic.com/>.

7. Bows and arrows have a number of importantresonances in the culture of the Nyamwezi andSukuma (whose power base is in Mwanza),where they serve as major symbols of paternalancestry and male identity; R. Abrahams,‘Sungusungu: Village vigilante groups inTanzania’, African Affairs 86 343 (1987), pp.179-96.

8. R. Mgamba, ‘Reporting Africa in WesternMedia Style’, n.d., <http://www.darwinsnightmare.net/REPORTING_AFRICA.html> 20February 2007.

9. darwinsnightmare.net, ‘Mwanza fish industryvideo’, n.d., <http://www.darwins nightmare.net/Fish_Industry_Video.html> 20 February2007.

10. <http://www.darwinsnightmare.com/darwin/html/startset.htm>

11. D. Rooney, ‘Variety magazine film review[of Darwin’s Nightmare]’, 23 September 2004,<http://www.variety.com/awardcentral_


review/VE1117924973.html?nav=r eviews07&categoryid=1986&cs=1> 1 March 2007.

12. ‘Open letter to Hubert Sauper from the LakeVictoria Fisheries Organization and The WorldConservation Union (IUCN)’, T. Maembe & A.K. Kaudia, Jinja/Nairobi, 8 December 2005. Oneof the authors of the letter confirmed with usthat they never received a response from Sauper.

13. ‘Socio-economic effects of the evolution ofNile perch fisheries in Lake Victoria: A review’, J.E. Reynolds, D.F. Greboval, FAO, Rome, 1988.

14. Lates niloticus is also known in Tanzania aschengu and mkombozi (‘saviour’).

15. See S. Ponte, ‘Bans, tests and alchemy: Foodsafety standards and the Ugandan export fishindustry’, Agriculture and Human Values 24: 179-193, 2007.

16. A. Sen, A. (1981), Poverty and Famines: Anessay on entitlement and deprivation, Oxford:Clarendon Press.

17. On Uganda, see Fisheries Resources ResearchInstitute (FIRRI) ‘Survey of the regional fishtrade’, Research report for the Lake VictoriaEnvironmental Management Project and the LakeVictoria Fisheries Research Project, FIRRI: Jinja,2003.

18. ‘Jacob Masele - Vic Fish Factory Manager’,2006, <http://www.darwinsnightmare.net/Jackob_Masele.html> 20 February 2007; see alsoS. Ponte, ‘Bans, tests and alchemy’.

19. Daily News, ‘Mwanza fish industry createsover 100,000 jobs’, 24 August 2006.

20. N. Fraser, ‘BBC Storyville film review [ofDarwin’s Nightmare]’, 2006, <http://www.bbc.co.uk/bbcfour/documentaries/storyville/darwins-nightmare.shtml> 15 June 2006.

21. P. Bjerk, ‘Review article of ‘Darwin’sNightmare’, Tanzanian Affairs 85 (2006), pp. 42-43.

22. Among others, see O. K. Odgonkara, ‘Povertyin the fisheries: Indicators, causes andinterventions’, FIRRI Technical Document, FIRRI,Jinja, 2002 and Fisheries Resources ResearchInstitute (FIRRI) ‘Globalisation and fishutilization and marketing study’, FIRRI, Jinja,2003.

23. See for example, H. Grosskurth et al. (1995),‘Impact of improved treatment of sexuallytransmitted diseases on HIV infection in ruralTanzania: randomized controlled trial’, TheLancet, 346:530-36.

24. Fraser, BBC Storyville review.

25. cinemovies.fr: Le magazine du cinema, ‘LeCauchemar de Darwin (French language filmlinks)’, 2 March 2006, <http://www.cinemovies.fr/fiche_multimedia.php?ID film=7615> 20 February 2007.

26. Carteles de cine, ‘La Pesadilla de Darwin(Spanish language film review)’, 19 December2006, <http://www.carteles.metropoli global.com/paginas/ficha.php?qsec=peli&qid= 2922835413> 25 February 2007.

27. Fraser, BBC Storyville review; the film wasbroadcasted on BBC 2 on 23 May 2006.

28. K. Smith, ‘Darwin’s Nightmare (film review)’,3 August 2005, <http://pqasb.pq archiver.com/nypost/access/876920931. html? dids=876920931: 876920931& FMT=ABS& FMTS=ABS:FT& date=Aug +3%2C+2005& author=&pub=New+York +Post&edition= &startpage=050&desc= ODDBALL+ FAMILY+ AFFAIR>24 February 2007.

29. ‘Economist Intelligence Unit: Country Profile,Tanzania, September 2006’, EIU, London, 2006,p. 17; see also Tanzania Daima, ‘Mti unaozaamatunda matamu hupondwa kwa mawe’, 20September 2006.

30. Sauper claims that he introduced himself tothe President at a dinner party in Paris and ‘hedid not ask me any questions’. Mr. Kikwete hadnot seen the film at that stage. M. Mwanakijiji,‘A KLH News interview with director H. Sauperof “Darwin’s Nightmare”’, 13 August 2006,<http://mwanakijiji.podomatic.com/enclosure/2006-08-13T21_08_06-07_00.mp3> 3March 2007. President Kikwete made a two-dayworking visit to France in May 2006, attending adinner hosted by Brigitte Girardin, MinisterDelegate for Cooperation, Development andFrancophony, on 15 May.

31. The Times (London), ‘Family feud forthought’, 5 May 2005.

32. The East African, ‘Dar officials accused ofabetting arms racket’, 24 June 2002.

33. M. Mwanakijiji, ‘Tracing reports of Tanzania’s illegal arms trafficking in the Great Lakesregion 1997-2006', 2006, <http://www.blog.co.tz/rom/friends/> 3 March 2007.

34. ‘Letter dated 26 January 2006 from theChairman of the Security Council Committeeestablished pursuant to the resolution 1533(2004) concerning the Democratic Republic ofthe Congo addressed to the President of theSecurity Council’, United Nations SecurityCouncil, New York, 27 January 2006.

35. ‘Le Cauchemar de Darwin: A Response fromthe Embassy of the United Republic of Tanzaniain France’ (Embassy of the United Republic of


Tanzania in France, Paris, 2006). There is somespeculation <http://imdb.com/title/tt0424024/board/nest/37248219> that Sauper wasinfluenced on the Nile perch theme after readingT. Goldschmidt (1998), Darwin’s Dreampond:Drama in Lake Victoria, Cambridge: MIT Press, asemi-autobiographical account by a scientist onthe effects of the foreign fish on the lake’secosystem.

36. In constant, introspective musings, the Heartof Darkness protagonist Marlow describes theeffects of the jungle on the ivory trading Kurtzusing remarkably similar language: ‘But his soulwas mad. Being alone in the wilderness, it hadlooked within itself, and, by heavens! I tell you,it had gone mad’; J. Conrad (1995), Heart ofDarkness, London: Penguin (1902), p. 107.

37. New York Times, ‘Feeding Europe, StarvingAt Home (Review)’, 3 August 2005.

38. Daily News, ‘Sauper’s lost war’, 10 August2006. The same article poured scorn on bloggers’criticism of those involved in ‘resourcemismanagement’.

39. Tanzania Daima, ‘Gazeti la Uwazi latakiwakuomba radhi’, 17 August 2006; Daily News,‘Bunge winds up session, demands apology fromtabloid’, 17 August 2006; The Daily News alsoreports that the resolution ‘advised thegovernment to follow up some of the allegationsmade especially of using the planes to importfirearms, which are allegedly used to perpetuateconflicts in the Great Lakes region.’

40. ‘Filamu ya mapanki’ translates to ‘Film aboutthe [fish] off-cuts’.

41. Sunday Observer, ‘Fish heads consumptionand the making of a parliamentary nightmare’,20 August 2006. Nimi Mweta’s article led toonline discussion in late August 2006 on <http://www.jamboforums.com>.

42. International Freedom of ExpressioneXchange, ‘Chantage à la citoyenneté contre unjournaliste qui a participé au documentaire le“Cauchemar de Darwin” (Journalist whoappeared in film “Darwin’s Nightmare” isthreatened with deportation)’, 21 August 2006,<http://www.ifex.org/alerts/layout/set/print/layout/set/print/content/view/full/76481> 7 July 2006.

43. Economist Intelligence Unit, Tanzania, p.17.

44. <http://www.darwinsnightmare.net>

45. Daily News, ‘Bunge rebukes ‘Darwin’sNightmare’ filmmaker’, 12 August 2006.

46. Truth On Hubert Sauper’s ‘Darwin’sNightmare’, URT.

47. Le Cauchemar de Darwin, Embassy of URTin France.

48. J. Land, ‘Darwin’s director Hubert Sauperon the ethics of free trade and filmmaking’, 2August 2005, <http://www.villagevoice.com/film/0531,voiceover,66468,20.html> 3 March2007.

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