Africa
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The Commission is at its best when examining the way the United Nations works and here, perhaps, it comes to the nub of the democratic problem. It suggests, quite correctly though without hope, that in time the permanent members of the Security Council should give up their vetoes. The United Nations has never been democratic because from its inception the big five powers insisted upon their right to a veto. The General Assembly, of course, could be democratic with one-country one-vote. Broad assertions of principle read well but their implications are rarely followed through. Thus, ‘Empowerment depends on people’s ability to provide for themselves, for poverty translates into a lack of options for the individual.’ The question, as far as Africa is concerned, is whether democratization empowers or is the best route for Africa to take. There is much disenchantment with the democratic process and the apparent inability of politicians to deliver on promises, and deep resentment of politicians who, having won elections, neglect large sectors of their people. None the less, the Commission insists: ‘It is fundamentally important that governance should be underpinned by democracy at all levels and ultimately by the rule of enforceable law.’ The difficulty for any commission of this nature with its international team is that it cannot afford to say anything that anyone would reject, so it ends up with a consensus of well-meaning platitudes. Its final comment on democracy reads as follows: ‘Democracy provides the environment within which the fundamental rights of citizens are best safeguarded and offers the most favourable foundation for peace and stability. The world needs, however, to ensure the rights of minorities, and to guard against the ascendance of the military and corruption. Democracy is more than just the right to vote in regular elections. And as within nations, so globally, the democratic principle must be ascendant.’9 Implicit in the entire report of the Commission is the assumption that these principles, which bear all the hallmarks of Western theory and practice, have to be applied to countries of the South, whatever their own traditions may be.
What do Africans think about the endless exhortations from the West generally and aid donors in particular to be democratic and adhere to good governance or adopt neo-liberal economic policies? As one perceptive critic of Africa suggests: ‘Although present political transitions in Africa are important, and the desirability of democracy is in principle not to be denied, an assessment of the prospects for greater democracy demands that we approach the task of explaining contemporary African politics from a different analytical angle.’10 Many of the expectations at independence have been confounded and much of the aid that has been directed to Africa has apparently failed to produce the intended development while African states are regarded as having failed to make their chosen political systems work. There are clear indications in a number of African countries that bypassing the state in a number of mainly illegal fashions has become the norm. The old Africa worked on patronage – the chief looking after his followers – and patronage remains the driving force in African politics and patronage requires means – in other words, wealth for distribution among the patron’s followers. The poor expect their patrons to demonstrate their wealth with ostentation and act as their role models. Thus, ‘abuses of power are tolerated so long as the patron is able to meet with adequate largesse the (insatiable) demands which are made upon his person’.11 As a Zambian minister is quoted as saying: ‘If I don’t support people from my own region, who else will?’ Providing state employment for followers is not just the norm in much of Africa, it is the way the system works and all the pressures for democratization or other changes demanded from outside have made no impact upon the practice which, at some levels, may be seen as the lifeblood of African politics. Nepotism in Africa overrides Western prescriptions about equal opportunities and is no more seen as corruption than the ‘old boy’ network that, certainly to the time of C.P. Snow, was part of the British establishment norm: ‘the Establishment in England has a knack of looking after its own’, he said. Nepotism, moreover, acts as a brake upon radical youth in its attempts to undermine the existing system. Since the achievement of independence, ‘sharing the spoils’ has been a crucial aspect of African politics and one of the reasons why the one-party state had its attractions: those who did not belong to the ruling party were automatically excluded from any share in the spoils.
By the 1990s, however, there were fewer spoils to go round and that, perhaps, may encourage those who think the system can be altered. Even when African states have turned away from the one-party state and adopted more open democratic practices, the leaders of the new political systems, as a rule, turn out to be the old leaders resurrected in a new guise and it is worth pointing out that this phenomenon has also occurred all through the former Communist world. It may appear cynical, but also be close to the truth, to suggest that the only way of producing new political leaders is through military coups by radical young officers. However, circumstances are changing. ‘African politicians today cannot expect to draw support by pointing to their anti-colonial credentials or by exploiting Cold War rivalries. The ideologies of nationalism, development, or “authenticity” have exhausted their appeal and there is need for a fresh approach. Legitimization depends now on the adoption of the currently fashionable notions of liberalization, pluralism, democracy, human rights, rule of law, good governance and even structural adjustment.’12 This suggested ‘legitimization’, however, differs from early bases for national leadership for the ideologies that have exhausted their appeal as suggested above were at least home-grown reactions to the former colonial situation whereas the current set of prescriptions have all been suggested and where possible applied from outside. There is as yet little evidence that leaders who embraced democracy during the last decade of the twentieth century were in fact any more democratic than their predecessors; rather, they were, like most politicians, prepared to make the new system that was emerging work to their advantage.
Development and democracy are on ‘offer’ from the West as a package deal, the one dependent upon the other, and the package assuming the eventual Westernization of Africa. Superficially, at the beginning of the new century, ‘Democracy in the sense of accountability and fair elections is increasingly the international norm against which states must measure themselves, eagerly or otherwise’.13 This is certainly true when Africa is viewed through Western eyes but as Robert Mugabe seemed so desperate to prove at the end of the century, after two decades of power, regime survival can override all other considerations. This raises one of the most significant questions about the aid process: is it about development or is it about maintaining clients in power? ‘Taken together, aid dependency and elite visions of democracy go a long way towards explaining why, since the return of democracy, the wishes of external supporters appear to have taken clear precedence over the needs and demands of domestic constituencies.’14 Despite endless criticisms from the West aimed at the African political process since the end of the Cold War, the activities of African politicians in securing jobs or channelling funds to their own supporters or ethnic communities are little different from the ‘pork barrel’ politics of the United States. Nkrumah’s generation of African politicians learnt precisely how to use imported Western democratic processes during their independence struggles. Later, they perverted them to create one-party authoritarian structures but they, as with a later political generation, needed political support bases and these, overwhelmingly, were found in their own tribal or ethnic groups. Once their nationalist charisma had worn off they turned increasingly to such support bases.
Now if politics is about delivering to ‘your’ own community, then membership of the opposition in the Western political sense is useless since such an opposition does not command any of the resources that may be distributed. In a situation where the winner takes all, not just in terms of political power but also in control of all patronage resources, those who have been excluded will either join the ruling party to share in the spoils or, if exclusion appears likely to be permanent, turn to violence. A p
olitical party is not seen as part of a national political process so much as part of the machinery needed to help the ‘big man’ distribute favours. There may be exceptions:
A few, like Nelson Mandela, may in fact embody the highest virtues of the Protestant work ethic. The fact remains, however, that the ability of such exceptional leaders to move the political system beyond its present rationality is limited, not primarily because of a lack of ambition but much more fundamentally because of the nature of existing forms of political legitimacy. In the end, there is an inter-locking neo-patrimonial logic between the deep ambitions of the political elites and the well-grounded expectations of their clients.15
All this suggests that attempts to force Africa to adopt Western-style democracy will be unsuccessful; the forms may be adopted, the practice will be African. As another commentator points out,
Efforts to combine the requirements of the market economy with the demands of popular sovereignty have ended in failure. There can be no doubt that most of the hopes raised by the promise of democratization have now been dashed, in spite of the substantial achievements of the movements of the early 1990s in the fields of freedom of the press and freedom of association… With South Africa providing the only really important exception, the process of democratization has been captured, under the guise of competitive elections, by the authoritarian groups already in control of state power (notably in Côte d’Ivoire, Togo, Cameroon, Gabon and Kenya), or it has given rise to new regimes whose weakness offers little promise of future stability (Mali and Benin) or produced others which cannot easily be considered genuinely democratic (Central African Republic, Congo until 1997, Equatorial Guinea, Zambia, Chad), or else democracy has been snuffed out by the intervention of the armed forces (Nigeria, Niger, Burundi).16
This formidable indictment of the process must give pause for reflection: will the collapse of the democratization experiment simply mean that weak African states revert to authoritarian governments and elites whose survival will depend upon Western aid? At this point it is worth looking at some individual cases.
THE STATE OF DEMOCRACY ON THE THRESHOLD OF THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
At the beginning of the twenty-first century 44 of Africa’s 54 states were described as multiparty republics while 10 had other forms of government as follows: a one-party republic, Morocco a multiparty monarchy with Western Sahara annexed to it, Eritrea a transitional government, Somalia a transitional government, Uganda a non-party republic, Congo (Brazzaville) a transitional government, Lesotho a multiparty monarchy, Swaziland a non-party monarchy and Comoros a transitional government. How much did these descriptive forms represent the actuality?
If we travel quickly through the continent in 2001 the picture is understandably uneven for what critics of Africa so often forget is that the continent consists of 54 countries, more than a quarter of the membership of the United Nations. In North Africa Algeria had just emerged from a decade of brutal civil war, still not resolved, between the secular government representing the much reduced FLN backed by the army, and the Islamists whose coming electoral triumph at the beginning of the 1990s had been aborted by the army. In April 2001, however, the government faced major rioting in Kabylia, the main Berber-speaking region, which continued for three months leading to 60 deaths and more than 2,000 wounded in clashes between young protesters and the police, with despair at economic deprivation the main motive for the violence. Armed Islamist groups continued to defy the government and large sections of the countryside remained insecure with massacres of civilians taking place in areas that supposedly had been pacified. The Francophone press criticized President Bouteflika for his attempts at dialogue – his ‘concorde civile’. There was no obvious end in sight for this long-lasting confrontation. In neighbouring Morocco there was growing impatience with the regime of the new King, Mohammed VI, at the continuing political stagnation as well as the poor economic conditions. The people were beginning to question the King’s commitment to reform and his failure to overcome resistance to change by powerful vested interests. In July, on the second anniversary of his accession to the throne, the King reaffirmed his personal commitment to reform and said he wanted to promote the country’s different regional and cultural groups and establish a royal institute to ‘protect, revive and improve’ Berber culture. Restrictions on the press, however, remained in place. In Tunisia the main political concern was whether Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali would amend the constitution to enable him to stand for the presidency again. In March almost 100 moderate figures signed a petition opposing any amendment to the constitution that would allow Ben Ali a fourth term. In November Kalel el Taief, a former close political ally of Ben Ali, was arrested after giving an interview in which he said the country was ruled by a mafia linked to the president’s family and that the people were scandalized at the widespread corruption that was prevalent and angered at the lack of civil liberties. These three country vignettes reflect the overall political situation to be found in the Arab north of the continent.
The countries of former French Equatorial Africa – Central African Republic, Chad, Niger, Republic of Congo, Gabon and Cameroon – continued down well-marked political paths and democratization at best played only a limited role in determining events. In May a coup attempt was launched in Central African Republic against the regime of President Ange-Félix Patassé by supporters of the former president, André Kolingba, and there followed 10 days of fighting in Bangui. Libya, now in a new role as guardian of legitimacy (Gaddafi, not for the first time, was reinventing himself) despatched troops to assist Patassé. In November, the President faced another coup attempt, this time by his army commander, General François Bozize; after being dismissed the General had launched an unsuccessful coup attempt and was forced to flee to Chad. In May presidential elections in Chad returned Idriss Deby to power with 67 per cent of the vote; he had been ruling Chad since overthrowing Habré in 1990. He faced a rebellion in the north of the country that had been smouldering since 1998. In Niger the government of President Mamadou Tandja, which had been elected in 2000, was troubled by corruption and general fatigue while the country was also seen as being vulnerable to penetration by terrorists in the aftermath of the 11 September attacks in the United States. In the Republic of Congo President Sassou-Nguesso still worked to consolidate his position after the coup and civil war of 1997 that had brought him back to power with the covert if not overt support of France. In Gabon elections were held in December and provided a massive victory for the ruling Gabonese Democratic Party (PDG) in both legislative and municipal elections that emphasized the political dominance of the apparently indestructible President Omar Bongo, who had been continually in power since 1967. The opposition appeared resigned to defeat. Finally, Cameroon was preoccupied with the ongoing conflict between the minority Anglophones and majority Francophones, a sort of steady state relationship.
Benin, which had established a reputation for frequent coups in the 1960s, came to be regarded as a model of democratization in the 1990s. Maj. Mathieu Kérékou seized power in 1972 and inaugurated a policy of Marxism-Leninism. By the end of the 1980s opposition to his rule was growing, not least because of economic breakdown. In response to this popular opposition, Kérékou announced the abandonment of Marxism-Leninism and then agreed to allow a national conference of the ‘active forces of the nation’. This was held in February 1990 and attended by 500 delegates. The conference declared itself to be sovereign and voted to abolish the existing structure of government, laying down that the president should be elected by universal suffrage. The conference then designated Nicephore Soglo as interim prime minister and in the succeeding months civilians in effect took control of the state so that Benin became the first African country to experience a civilian coup. As a result, a one-party state, dominated by the military, was forced by public pressure to return to multiparty democracy. Subsequently, after the formation of numerous parties and alliances, Soglo was elected President and Kérékou made a dignifi
ed exit. However, Kérékou made a political comeback in 1996 by winning the presidential elections. On his victory he undertook to strive for national unity. Soglo’s defeat was due to his failure to adequately address social and economic issues. In the legislative elections of March 1999, opposition parties took 42 seats, the pro-Kérékou parties 41 seats. In 2001 Kérékou again won the presidential election with 84 per cent of a low poll since his rivals for the office, Soglo and Adrien Houngbedji, withdrew from the contest, alleging vote rigging.
The story of Côte d’Ivoire in the 1990s was markedly different. During the 1960s and 1970s Côte d’Ivoire was regarded as the great success story of Francophone Africa under the remarkable and enduring leadership of President Félix Houphouët-Boigny who, despite his dictatorial side, derived his political legitimacy from his leading role in the nationalist debates with France that led to independence for the francophone states in 1960. He had, moreover, always been a close ally of France. But he stayed too long: ‘The same is true in country after country. Houphouët-Boigny started as a modernizer who had to display some Big Man traits to be effective; he ended as a Big Man hollowing out the hard-won treasures of his modernization. They all stay too long. That in itself is sufficient justification for democracy.’17 In fact Côte d’Ivoire had long been an under-managed, as opposed to real, democracy that allowed Houphouët-Boigny to rule in his dotage and run the economy into the ground. Côte d’Ivoire had outdone Ghana in development during the 1960s and 1970s but from the late 1980s experienced a decline as precipitous as had been Ghana’s a decade earlier. Houphouët-Boigny had obtained investment from Paris and Wall Street and Côte d’Ivoire was the first African country to enter the Eurodollar market, ‘But in his dotage he [Houphouët-Boigny] so canted the government budget – maybe half a billion on the appalling cement replica of St Peter’s in his home village – that it verged on bankruptcy.’18 Thus, through the megalomania of a once successful leader a success story collapsed. In the latter part of 2000 a major crisis arose following presidential elections that brought the long-time opposition leader, Laurent Gbagbo, to power against the challenge of the military ruler Gen. Robert Guei. The power struggle between Gbagbo and Guei brought the country to the brink of civil war. During 2001 an attempted coup received support from Burkina Faso in alignment with the people of the north of the country, many of whom were Burkinabes. Gbagbo tried the path of reconciliation and France became active in attempting to bring about a political reconciliation between the different factions – Paris did not want to see the collapse of its showcase country – but civil violence spread and continued into the following year.