2 Editorial COUNTRY SNAPSHOTS 3 Soldiers of Folly 9 Building Democracy in Post-conflcit Angola 12 New Election Laws in Mozambique 15 Is the Face of Democracy Changing in Malawi? 55 The Ivory Coast Casts a Shadow on the African Century? DEMOCRATISATION 5 The Impact of Inter-Southern Sudaneses Dialogue 17 What Makes Democracy Work? 20 Consolidation is Not the Issue – It is the Format that Counts 26 Transition Politics and the Challenges of Democracy in Kenya 36 2002 Elections in Lesotho 37 Tanzania’s March Towards Democratic Consolidation 48 Framework for Cooperative Security in a Region in Transition TRENDS 54 Trends in Peacekeeping BOOK REVIEW 56 Managing Armed Conflicts in the Twenty-First Century Editor in Chief HUSSEIN SOLOMON Assistant Editors SENZO NGUBANE IAN HENDERSON Contributors J. ‘KAYODE FAYEMI ROLAND HENWOOD BRITT DE KLERK IAN LIEBENBERG MOHAMMED OMAR MAUNDI KARANJA MBUGUA KWEZI MNGQIBISA TSHILISO MOLUKANELE SENZO NGUBANE MANDLA SELEOANE HUSSEIN SOLOMON JOHN G. NYUOT YOH Sub-Editor SUE ELLIOTT Design & Layout DALE SMITH Publishers THE AFRICAN CENTRE FOR THE CONSTRUCTIVE RESOLUTION OF DISPUTES (ACCORD) Private Bag X018, Umhlanga Rocks 4320, South Africa Tel: +27 (31) 502 3908 Fax: +27 (31) 502 4160 Email: [email protected]Web: www.accord.org.za Printing & Repro FISHWICKS Views expressed in this publication are the responsibility of the individual authors and not of ACCORD. ACCORD is a non-governmental, non-aligned conflict resolution organisation based in Durban, South Africa. The organisation is constituted as an educational trust. 1561-9818 ISSN
Transcript
2 Editorial
COUNTRY SNAPSHOTS 3 Soldiers of Folly
9 Building Democracy in Post-conflcit Angola
12 New Election Laws in Mozambique
15 Is the Face of Democracy Changing in Malawi?
55 The Ivory Coast Casts a Shadow on theAfrican Century?
DEMOCRATISATION 5 The Impact of Inter-Southern Sudaneses Dialogue
17 What Makes Democracy Work?
20 Consolidation is Not the Issue –It is the Format that Counts
26 Transition Politics and the Challengesof Democracy in Kenya
36 2002 Elections in Lesotho
37 Tanzania’s March Towards Democratic Consolidation
48 Framework for Cooperative Security in a Region in Transition
TRENDS 54 Trends in Peacekeeping
BOOK REVIEW 56 Managing Armed Conflicts in the Twenty-First Century
Views expressed in this publicationare the responsibility of the individualauthors and not of ACCORD.ACCORD is a non-governmental, non-aligned conflict resolution organisation based in Durban, South Africa. The organisation is constituted as an educational trust.
1561-9818 ISSN
BY HUSSEIN SOLOMON AND SENZO NGUBANEEDITORIAL
he twentieth century was not kind to Africa. Itstarted with almost the entire continent under the
rule of some or other European power. However,there were high hopes for Africa with the start of
the decolonisation process in Nkrumah’s Ghana. Sadly,the continent’s hopes were not realised. Decolonisationwas followed with new forms of control. For example,multinational corporations and international financialinstitutions imposed various structural adjustment condi-tionalities. In addition, state structures inherited from for-mer colonial powers were both authoritarian and weak.Consequently, independent African States could not meetthe basic needs of their citizens. The inevitable result wassocial agitation and conflict – hallmarks of contemporaryAfrican polity. Authoritarian despots – in the form of theAmins’, Bokassas’ and Mobutus’ – began to appear andfurther entrenched the notion of a crisis-prone continent.
However, much progress has been made to furtherdemocratic practice on the African continent. Since1972, Freedom House (a non-profit, non-partisan organi-sation) has published annual assessments on state free-dom. Each country is assigned the status of ‘free’, ‘partlyfree’ or ‘not free’ by averaging their political and civil lib-erties ratings. Those whose ratings average 1–2.5 are con-sidered ‘free’; ratings of 3–5.5 are labelled ‘partly free’;and scores between 5.5–7 are ‘not free’. It is quite encour-aging to note that Benin, which received a 7.5 rating inthe 1972-73 survey, moved to 3.2 in the 2001-2002 sur-vey; Senegal moved from 6.6 to 3.4 during the sameperiod; Botswana from 3.4 to 2.2; Ghana from 6.6 to 2.3;Lesotho from 7.4 to 4.4; and Mali from 7.6 to 2.3. What isinteresting to note is that progress has not spared war-rav-aged countries, such as the Democratic Republic of theCongo (DRC), which moved from 7.6 in the 1972-73 sur-vey, to 6.6 in the latest one. The underlying message isthat, while significant progress has been made, there isstill much more work to be done. However, our disposi-tion is one of optimism. Our optimism has been reinforcedby developments both regionally (in the form of the pro-posed African Peer Review Mechanism of NEPAD, andthe Peace and Security Council of the AU) and interna-tionally (with the establishment of the InternationalCriminal Court).
The dawn of the twenty-first century has witnessedAfrica’s leadership respond more vigorously to crisis onthe continent. There has also been a general acceptanceof the fact that the post-colonial African state must
return to a more democratic order – one that would beresponsive to the needs of its citizens. This acceptancehas been captured in the founding documents of the NewPartnership for Africa’s Development (NEPAD) and theAfrican Union (AU). We, at ACCORD, are quite awarethat the need for more democratic polities stems not onlyfrom the inherent benefits of democracy itself, but alsobecause democracy, in itself, is an effective conflict man-agement tool. This is one of the reasons why ACCORDplans to learn how to use conflict management as a tool toenhance effective governance in Africa. Within this con-text, it becomes necessary to look at how proper conflictmanagement can assist public sector transformation. Wealso need to focus on the thorny issue of constitutional-making processes, in relation to democratic consolida-tion. Consequently, it is our firm belief that by providingavenues through which to air grievances (such as thecourts), democratisation – as it relates to good governance– is an effective tool for transforming violent trajectoriesto non-violent ones. In this sense, democratisationbecomes an effective tool for conflict prevention and mit-igation. It is for this reason that this special issue ofConflict Trends is dedicated to democratisation in Africa.
Most of the articles contained in this edition go a longway towards reflecting on the aforementioned topic. Forinstance, the first part of this edition focuses on the poli-tics of identity. Here, Henwood comments on the recentbombings in South Africa, and Yoh looks at the MachakosPeace Process in the Sudan. Furthermore, de Klerk andMolukanele focus on four southern African countries thatare already grappling with the concept of democracy –they are Zimbabwe, Angola, Malawi and Mozambique.
The first section serves as a good prelude to the otherthree articles, which focus on the process of democracy inAfrica. This part begins with an article by Liebenberg,which is a critical reflection on the theoretical underpin-nings and the relevance of the Western concept of democra-tic consolidation in Africa. Mbugua traces the evolution ofdemocracy in Kenya – he focuses on the key challenges thatfaced the country during its progress from one-party state toa plural democracy. On the other hand, Seleoane looks athow Lesotho managed to hold a relatively successful elec-tion (after much pre-election turmoil) in 1998. Lastly,Maundi delves into the pertinent issues and challenges thatface Tanzania while it attempts to consolidate democracy. Indoing so, he highlights the differences between democratictransition and democratic consolidation.
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he recent Soweto bomb explosions raisesome serious questions about the ostensibly
peaceful state of politics in South Africa. Theexplosions came as a sudden shock.
They reminded us of a not too distant and violent past; a past that we hoped had been relegated to the history books. The organisationthat claimed responsibility for the bombs – theBoerevolk-Krygers1 (Warriors of the Boer Nation) –represents the extreme right of the South Africanpolitical spectrum. It is possible that theBoerevolk-Krygers may be linked to the recentarrests of numerous individuals reportedly involvedin plans to overthrow the South African govern-ment. One demand they made was for the release of18 individuals, who were arrested for allegedlybeing involved in the plot.
At this point, it may be valuable to give a gen-eral analysis of the dynamics that so often causethis type of discontent. One needs to assess how
effectively the state is functioning, and how muchsupport a government and its institutions enjoyfrom the citizenry. This support will be determinedby how well a government adapts to changing circumstances, as well as how well it interacts withits citizens. Success in these two areas will con-tribute to the legitimacy – and thereby legality andacceptability – of a government.
Legitimacy contributes to civil order. Civilorder indicates satisfaction with the distributivefunction of a government. The distributive functionof a government is particularly important, as it restson the principle of equality. Equality is determinedby free access to all material goods controlled bygovernment. It is also determined by the equal rep-resentation of those values that people hold dear.Such values – of both majorities and minorities –would include language, religion and culture. Inthis regard, satisfaction is based on perception, andnot necessarily the factual situation created by
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BY ROL AND HENWOOD SOUTH AFRICA
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decisions taken within government structures.Add to this the normative frame of mind thatunderlies the interpretations of what people per-ceive, and one gains a better understanding of thedifficulties facing governments. This is especiallythe case in a country such as South Africa.
The above explanation argues that a govern-ment can cause or prevent the development ofcivil disorder, depending on whether or not it rep-resents the interests of all its citizens. This doesnot imply that all who are dissatisfied with theirgovernment have the right to resort to violence.The South African constitution certainly providesmany different avenues for citizens to expresspolitical grievances. Yet, there are no indicationsof these having been formally explored by thosewho are supposedly behind the Soweto bombings,or the plans to overthrow the South African gov-ernment. Considering the opportunities availablefor constitutional politics in South Africa, one hasto ask why any person or group would engage insuch actions.
Generally speaking, violence is chosen whenaggrieved groups are convinced that they have noother alternative available to them. Groups also
resort to violence when they believe they havemore to gain than loose – for example, when theexisting political order is perceived as unconstitu-tional and totally illegitimate. In this case, itserves very little purpose to focus on the nature ofconstitutional politics as a way to resolve conflict.This was alluded to in a statement from theBoerevolk-Krygers, which claimed that the actionin Soweto was the beginning of the end for theANC government.
There may be several underlying reasons forengaging the South African government in a cam-paign of terror:• the rejection of the constitutional dispensation
and government in South Africa;• the belief that government policies are aimed at
ignoring and destroying those things which thisgroup holds dear;
• the absence of a credible leadership to repre-sent the extreme right within the formal andconstitutional political process;
• a lack of popular support, which thus limits thepossibility of achieving political objectivesthrough constitutional politics.
In conclusion, one needs to evaluate the serious-ness of any threat from political extremists inSouth Africa. No threat of terror or violence canever be underestimated. Although the chance of aterror campaign succeeding is almost non-exis-tent, it could cause serious damage to the fragileand developing democratic system in SouthAfrica. It is important for political leaders from allsectors of the South African political spectrum –particularly those associated with ‘white’ politicalinterests – to inform their supporters of the valueand importance of constitutionally-based politicalinteraction. In this regard, any act of violencemust be unconditionally condemned.
Given these developments, one cannot empha-sise enough the importance of an effective commu-nication strategy within government. Citizens needto be informed of all government actions, policiesand objectives. It is also the duty of the SouthAfrican government to deal with those who chooseto ignore these constitutional provisions.
* Roland Henwood is a Lecturer in the Department of PoliticalSciences at the University of Pretoria
1. Beeld 11 November 2002.
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South African bombsquad policemen
search through debrisat a Soweto mosque,which was hit duringthe night by a bomb
blast, as part of aseries of nine
explosions around the township
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onsensus among observers is that, shouldthe warring parties in Sudan agree on a set-tlement – whether through the Inter-Government Authority for Development
(IGAD) process or any other forum – the type ofrelationship between the Southern Sudanese mili-tary and political forces during the interim periodwill determine the direction of the implementationprocess. From the onset, one should point out thatthe Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM)consists of a loose coalition that was forged inJanuary and October 2002. The coalition is madeup of Dr. John Garang de Mabior’s SPLM, and Dr.Riek Machar Teny-Dhurgon’s Sudan People’sDemocratic Front (SPDF). It should also be men-tioned that approximately two million lives were
lost during Sudan’s 50-year civil war, and morethan two million people were uprooted from theirhomes. This situation demands a thorough re-evaluation by all conflicting parties as to whetherunity or secession is ultimately the source of alasting peace.
Regarding the Machakos Consensus, mostobservers believe the following observations areworth mentioning:
While the people of Southern Sudan seem torejoice that their right to self-determinationwas included in the Machakos Consensus,some still seem unappreciative of the six yearinterim period. The implication is that thereis a need to hold both the presidential andparliamentary elections during the interim
BY JOHN G. NYUOT YOH SUDAN
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of the Inter-Southern Sudanese Dialogue
SUDAN
period, and that all political parties who aregoing to contest these elections, should giveunconditional commitment to the MachakosConsensus agreements.
A considerable number of Southern Sudaneseseem to feel that the troika which brokered theMachakos Consensus (and included the USA,UK, Norway and Italy) have little interest inbringing about lasting peace within the coun-try. Rather, they seem more interested in anopened-ended, long-term ceasefire agreement.
The US administration (as expressed in JohnDanforth’s report) openly stated that it is notin favor of the right to self-determination. Inline with its strategic goals in Africa and theMiddle East, the US seems willing to sidewith Northern Sudan. By so doing, the US willhave gained oil in Sudan, as well as the Arabworld’s support for its efforts in the Arab-Israeli conflict. As for the people of the south– the Americans will have offered thempeace, but not necessarily justice.
If anything is to be learnt from Numeiri and El-Bashir’s attitudes towards the agreements theypreviously signed with the South, the Southernleadership should invest time in cementing South-South dialogue during the next six years. It is important that the leadership of the SPLM-United, the Southern Sudan LiberationMovement (SSLM), the EDF, the South SudanDefence Forces (SSDF) and the other Southernmilitias support the Machakos Consensus – it isthe best process through which the South candemocratically exercise its right to self-determi-nation. There is no doubt that the SPLM qualifiesas a national revolutionary movement, both inSouthern and Northern Sudanese power-sharingpolitics. In Southern Sudan, the SPLM embodiesall the Southern Sudanese political shades,whether within the SPLM mainstream faction, orin others. Consequently, it is regarded as a representative of Southern Sudan. Since theSPLM has been negotiating with the GoS onbehalf of Southern Sudan, it should administer theSouth during the interim period. At the same time, it should empower Southern Sudanese civil society organisations – as well as the youngmebers of various Southern military and political organisations – to have more say in themobilisation process.
There is consensus among Southern Sudanesepolitical activists that unless the proponents ofself-determination in Southern Sudan try hard toforge some kind of working relationship with the SPLM leadership, then things may go ter-ribly wrong during the interim period. This is partly because of the Northern Sudanese attitude towards self-determination. It is alsobecause of a possible isolationist approach thatthe SPLM leadership might use against otherSouthern political groups that have not beendirectly involved in the Machakos peace process.
On the one hand, if the SPLM leadershipdecided to open channels of communication withall Southern military, political and civil societyorganisations, such an attitude would definitelyencourage the emergence of a strong coalitionamong Southerners. On the other hand, if theSPLM leadership opts to isolate the proponents ofself-determination, then it would be difficult toavoid internal conflicts within the SPLM, its lead-ership and other Southern organisations.
Such a process of dialogue requires hard work,patience and vision. Most importantly, it requiresthe use of ‘quiet diplomacy’ in order for it to suc-ceed in achieving its goals.
However, some observers argue that any peaceagreement signed as a result of the MachakosConsensus, would be considered by some SPLMleaders as their booty. If such an argument holds,the SPLM leadership and its supporters (who havelived outside the country for about 20 years) wouldhave to make sure that anyone who is not in linewith its policies is kept away from the administra-tion of the South. All the important political andbureaucratic positions will have to be allocated tothose who are loyal to the SPLM and its allies.
Equally true would be the assertion that, interms of the Machakos Consensus, the SPLM wouldhave to keep an eye on whoever opposes the agree-ment. Naturally, in such a situation, the SPLMleadership would have the obligation to sidelinethose Southern Sudanese factions – particularly theSPLA-United, the SSLM and other Southern militias currently cooperating with the GoS – whomight choose to oppose it. However, should that bethe main policy of the SPLM, it would have opted touse an isolationist approach, which would compli-cate matters further within the South.
The main Southern factions that the SPLMmight target include Dr. Lam Akol’s SPLM-United, and Dr. Michael Wal Duany’s SouthernSudan Liberation Movement (SSLM). Like the
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SPDF, these factions represented the separatistwing of the SPLM before they defected from theSPLM in August 1991. Both the GoS and theSPLM leaderships are aware of this fact. Shouldthese factions try to survive alone, they will findthemselves squeezed out by the GoS and SPLM.Their opposition to government policies, or anypotential SPLM isolationist policies during theinterim period, will definitely be regarded asopposition to the Machakos Consensus.
However, in such a situation, some argue thatthe SPLM leadership would value its alliancewith National Alliance Forces and the NDA, asthey would represent the best guarantee for itssurvival during the interim period. Moreover, theessence of the Machakos Consensus requires theSPLM leadership to work hard to consolidate itsalliance with the government of Sudan. Onthe other hand, the Sudanese governmentmust also try to maintain its allianceswith the other Southern militias. It isworth mentioning that the SSDF con-sists of all those forces that were underthe leadership of Dr. Riek Macharwhen he signed the Khartoum PeaceAgreement with GoS in April 1997.This force later fragmented, and eachgroup allied itself with the Sudanese gov-ernment. The current militia groups thatare recognised include those lead byVincent Kuany Latjor in Juba, Paulino MatipNhial in the Western Upper Nile, GatwechDuel in and around Akobo; Gabriel TangGinya in Pangak and Ayod; Gordon KoangChol in Nasir; the Dindinga militia; theTaposa militia in Kapoeta; the Pertit militia inBahr el-Ghazal; the Murle militias in Pibor; andthe Equatoria Defence Force in EasternEquatoria. However, these militias will also bemarginalised eventually, because the governmentwill focus on the SPLM leadership, particularlythe wing within the SPLA that is separatist-ori-ented.
Apart from the dynamics mentioned above,the following observations are critical for the suc-cess of the Machakos Consensus:
Firstly, during the last 20 years of the civilwar, the role of Southern Sudanese intellectu-als – including those in Diaspora – has beeninstrumental in shaping Southern Sudanesepolitical and ideological understandingregarding the causes of the war. On the otherhand, depending on the position that these
intellectuals took regarding the dynamics ofwar-peace politics, some of them weredeemed to have become both part of the prob-lem, and the solution. Indeed, some of themseemed to prefer to work in isoltion from theirrespective constituencies, and the majority of
themworkedalongtriballines. Also, therelationship between intellectuals and politi-cal leaders in Southern Sudan has alwaysbeen tense. Apparently this is partly due tocompetition between the two groups. Certainintellectuals believe that some of their politi-cal counterparts – particularly the most polit-ically active – seem to lack a long-termvision concerning the future of SouthernSudan. If the SPLM leadership is to make anydifference in terms of development, it mustharmonise the relationship between and
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among Southern Sudanese intellectuals, tech-nocrats and politicians.Secondly, the nature and type of developmentalprogrammes that the SPLM administration willimplement in Southern Sudan during the interimperiod will determine the reaction and level ofcooperation given to the SPLM by otherSouthern political and military forces. The levelof efficiency of the SPLM administration willalso determine its level of acceptance. Thirdly, the quality and quantity of regional ortribal representation within the SPLM adminis-tration, as well as the nature of its decision-making process, will also impact on the type ofrelationship that will exist between the SPLMand other Southern forces. Fourthly, Southern Sudan has the highest num-ber of disabled combatants, children andwoman as a result of the war. The manner inwhich these people are taken care of willexpose the sense of responsibility that theSPLM leadership has towards the most vulnerable segments of Southern Sudanesecommunities. It will also be an important factor in consolidating (or weakening) cooperation between the SPLM and otherSouthern forces.
Fifthly, there are a number of NorthernSudanese individuals and organisations thatare currently allying themselves with the SPLMin the Southern Sudan government. Some arealso putting themselves forward as representa-tives of the SPLM in the central government.The nature and level of their participationmight be received with reluctance by someSouthern Sudanese, who regard the SPLM as aSouthern-based organisation.
Finally, the attitude of the SPLM leadershiptowards the referendum on self-determination, aswell as those who might have different views aboutthe process, might become a contentious issueduring the first three years of the interim period.
* John G, Nyuot Yoh is a Research Associate at the RoyalInstitute for Inter-Faith Studies in Amman, Jordan. Yoh is theauthor of Southern Sudan: Prospects and Challenges, Amman:Al-Ahalia Press, 2000; and Isolation, Unity and Secession: Theevolution of political thought in Southern Sudan. Amman: Al-Ahalia Press, 2002. Both books are in Arabic.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SUDANER
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Wounded men of thewar-torn south Sudansit in the hospital runby the InternationalComittee of the Red
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ne can be cautiously optimistic aboutthe prospects for peace and democracyin Angola. Peace appears likely in the
post-Savimbi era, due to the fact that a con-tinuation of the war was largely attributed to therivalry between Jonas Savimbi and Eduardo dosSantos. Following Savimbi’s death on 4 April2002, the government and National Union for theTotal Independence of Angola (UNITA) signed aceasefire, which became known as the LuenaMemorandum of Understanding. This was the firstcomprehensive dialogue between the rulingPopular Movement for the Liberation of Angola(MPLA) and UNITA. In June 2002, President dosSantos stated that consolidation of peace was thecountry’s main priority. To this end, he agreed thatthe outstanding provisions of the Lusaka Protocol
needed to be completed. The outstanding provi-sions include the reinsertion of ex-UNITA com-batants and their family members into civiliancommunities, the establishment of safe conditionsfor the resettlement of internally displaced persons; the development of a new constitution;the revision of the registration process and elec-toral legislation; and the re-establishment of civil administration within all territories. The government’s decision to hold elections in 2004 or2005, and the demobilisation of UNITA soldiers,are also regarded as positive moves towards establishing peace.
One challenge to maintaining peace is the sepa-ratist rebellion by the Liberation Front for theCabinda Enclave (FLEC) in the oil-rich region ofCabinda - this area produces 60% of Angola’s oil.
BY BR ITT DE KLERK ANGOLA
A future at last. Cause for
cautious optimism in Angola?
Odemocracy in post-conflict Angola
moving from war to peace:
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The government has implemented an armed cam-paign against these rebels and many have been dri-ven from their homes. If the tension increases andnegotiation between the two groups does not takeplace soon, a high intensity conflict may result. Thismay, in turn, threaten the peace process.
In all honesty, what are Angola’s prospects fordemocracy? Some commentators argue that thegovernment lacks the political will to address gov-ernance issues of participation, representation,transparency and accountability. They claim thegovernment appears reluctant to revisit the politi-cal reforms provided for in both the Bicesse PeaceProcess of 1991-1992, and the Lusaka Protocol of1994. Others hold the view that Angola is in tran-sition, and that the country needs a government ofnational unity to oversee the transition
1.Foreign
and domestic media criticise the government’sreluctance to reveal oil revenue earnings andexpenditures, particularly in light of the fact thatan estimated US$I billion in oil revenues is unac-counted for.
Some of the government’s own actions havefuelled these concerns. These actions includeallegedly delaying the registration of some non-governmental organisations, passing strict securitylaws which could negatively impact on the free-dom of speech and access to government; limitingindependent media activity; and clamping downon the opposition, despite constitutional provisionsfor freedom of association and assembly. The
political space within the former UNITA - held ter-ritory will also have to be widened – in the past,activities by the media, individuals and organisa-tions were tightly controlled.
The prospect for democracy has, however,been enhanced – elections for 2004 or 2005 wererecently announced. In addition, political spacefor civil society activity has been widened.The 1992 UN – supervised presidential and leg-islative elections were described by internationalobservers as free and fair. Savimbi won 40.1% ofthe votes, while dos Santos clinched 49.6%.However, Savimbi rejected the results andresumed the civil war. The 220-seat NationalAssembly is dominated by the MPLA, which has129 seats. UNITA members occupy 70 seats, whileother parties are spread among the remaining 21seats. UNITA needs to solidify its position as apolitical party before the 2004/2005 elections. Italso needs to present a cohesive mandate to theelectorate. Although there are more than 100 polit-ical parties in Angola, they have very little politi-cal clout. Thus, the run-up to the elections willrequire a mobilisation and unification of the oppo-sition in order to have a competitive democraticelection. When formulating electoral rules andprocesses, public participation is vital. To this end,civil society organisations, members of the publicand political parties must work together.
Although UNITA has transformed itself from amilitary movement to a political party, the group
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was only really united in October this year.However, leadership of the party is still being con-tested. It has been argued that the ceasefire agree-ment was a desperate response by the party to itsdecline in military strength. Whatever the rea-sons, it is clear that some political transformationis taking place. However, for this democratic tran-sition to stay on course, UNITA must become anormal political party. It must be committed to theLusaka Protocol, and must make every effort toimprove relations with the regional and interna-tional communities.
Civil society in Angola is a recent development.The 1991 Association Law made it possible forcivic organisations to register independently of theruling party. The political and economic liberalisa-tion of the 1990s, and the increasing demand fornon-governmental organisations to provide socialand humanitarian relief in the face of worseninghumanitarian conditions, gradually allowed forcivil society organisations to grow in strength and number. There are currently more than 300 registered non-governmental organisations.However, civil society is still weak. In addition, ithas mostly been concerned with humanitarianrelief efforts. Since 1999, civil society has hadmore freedom to move within the political space. Ithas been allowed to publicly assert alternativeopinions and advocate policy reforms. Indeed, thegovernment recently reluctantly consulted civilsociety on the draft land and media laws2. However,one still wonders whether or not the governmentwill consult civil society on key issues, such as the
formation of a government of national unity. Civilsociety continues to suffer from demarcation linesand restricted travel, which make large portions ofthe country inaccessible. Consequently, the impactof civil society in assisting with democratic changeat a local level is limited. Civil society needs to beempowered and strengthened in order to assist withthe democratic transition.
There is cause for some optimism: there aregrowing signs of civil society activity, the press isvibrant; and there are public debates on key poli-ical issues. Furthermore, the Joint Commissiontalks between the MPLA and UNITA – which are centred around the implementation of thestalled Lusaka Protocol – began in September2002. However, these talks have been criticised by civil society for being exclusive. What must benoted is that the political space is widening, and there is room for constructive political debateand negotiation. It would appear that Angola is forging ahead with its process of change, despite having to face enormous economic andhumanitarian challenges.
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* Britt de Klerk is currently a Programme Officer at ACCORD.
1. USAID (2002) Angola Transition and DevelopmentAssessment: The War is Over, Peace is Here to Stay, availableat: www.usaid.gov/regions/afr/pubs/conflict.html
2. Ibid.
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An Angolan refugeebalances a bag of flouron her head as shereturns from the distribution of reliefgoods in Munda, nearthe city of Huambo
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he Assembly of the Republic passed a set ofelection laws during its extraordinary sitting inSeptember. This culminated two years worth ofwork by the parliamentary ad hoc commission
on electoral reform. The laws relate to the NationalElection Commission (CNE), voter registration, andprocedures for the 2003 municipal elections. This latest development provides certainty toMozambique electoral laws which, hitherto, havebeen mainly temporal. Indeed, they have changedwith every new election.
In contrast to its predecessors, the new CNEwill be permanent. It will consist of 19 mem-bers, including a chairperson and two deputies nominated by each party. Party representationwithin the CNE will be in direct proportion to their
representation within the Assembly. As a result,FRELIMO will nominate 10 members, while RENAMO-ELECTION UNION will nominateeight.The parties will elect the chairperson fromcandidates nominated by civil society. The provincial and district election commissions willeach have nine members, and will be representedin the same way as in the CNE. Decisions withinthe CNE will be taken by consensus, failing whicha simple majority will do. At the time of writing, theCNE had not been constituted, as there were problems with the RENAMO nominations. The lawsays that no member of a leading political partybody may sit on the CNE - RENAMO wants MrJose de Castro (a member of its leadership) to sit onthe CNE.
Still contentious...
but Mozambique firms up
an electoral dispensation
BY TSHILISO MOLUKANELEMOZAMBIQUE
laws in Mozambique
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The Electoral Administration TechnicalSecretariat (STAE) will remain a civil service bodyand will be staffed by civil servant. Two politicalappointees from each party will assist the generaldirector. By November, STAE had already publi-cised a plan for next year’s municipal elections.However, it has been delayed because the CNE hasnot yet been established. A decision has alreadybeen taken to use the 1999 voter’s roll for the forth-coming elections. STAE will employ 2,949 peopleto update the roll and register new voters. STAEwill also undertake voter education.
During October, the Assembly of the Republicpassed a bill concerning the constitutional council.The council was provided for in the 1990 constitu-tion. However, it was never constituted. It willeventually consist of seven judges, but for now itwill only have five. It has power over all constitu-tional matters, including the power to hear disputesrelating to elections. It has the authority to verifywhether or not presidential candidates meet thelegal requirements. It can also make final decisionsregarding electoral complaints, and can validateand declare final election results. There is, how-ever, disagreement about the way in which the
judges should be appointed. RENAMO favourspolitical appointments within the Assembly (as isthe case in the CNE). FRELIMO favours part-appointments by the Assembly, and part-appoint-ments by the supreme council of judicial magistra-ture, which is an independent body. This debatehas now been reverted back to the parliamentarycommission on legality.
The challenge around elections are huge.Besides having to formulate procedures fornational and presidential elections, STAE will alsobe tested during the coming municipal elections -RENAMO plans to contest the elections and itsmembers will be out in full force. Consequently,more voters are expected. Future municipal elec-tions will be extended to other areas which have,for the first time, obtained municipal status. It ishoped that the laws will provide some certainty,and that the elections will run smoothly.
MOZAMBIQUE
* Tshiliso Molukanele is currently a Programme Officer at ACCORD.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
YOA
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An elderlyMozambican woman
shows her hands to anemployee of the
National ElectionCommission (CNE),
before casting her voteat a polling station at
the village ofMichatutene north
of Maputo
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he May 1994 elections ushered in a peacefultransition from decades of one-party autoc-
racy to a multi-party democracy. Since theseelections, Malawi has been congratulated for
its significant institutionalisation of democraticfreedoms, as well as its promotion of the protectionof human rights. This is illustrated through aninvigorated civil society, increased freedom ofexpression and participation, the existence of mul-tiple political parties, more independent media;and an increase in the role and number of non-gov-ernmental organisations. By 2000, the prospects for consolidating democracy within Malawi lookedfavourable. Factors which led to this assess-ment included a constitution which provided a democratic framework for good governance, astrong representation by two opposition partieswithin parliament, and a relatively narrow majority.
Also significant was the growing realisation that thegovernment and parliament would have to collabo-rate in order to engage civil society in efforts toalleviate poverty and spur economic development .
Since then, however, the prospects for democra-tic consolidation within Malawi have been put tothe test. So what has changed? Electoral violencemarred the 1999 election. Violence erupted inopposition strongholds of northern Malawi, after theelection results indicated a win for the UnitedDemocratic Front (UDF). In 2001, violence rearedits ugly head when a group known as the YoungDemocrats waged intimidation campaigns againstthe government’s opposition, as well as the media.Reports stated that the impending 2004 electionssparked an increase in violence between politicalparties. Reasons for the increase in violenceincluded the politicisation of ethnicity and
BY BR ITT DE KLERK MALAWI
All of this and more to protect.
Malawi’s bright future
on the line.
changing in Malawi?
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regionalism. The three main political parties – theUDF, the Alliance for Democracy (AFORD) andthe Malawi Congress Party (MCP) – have theirsupport base in the southern province, the north-ern region and the central region, respectively.These parties have been competing for power in afirst-past-the-post, ‘winner-takes-all’ system. It isargued that in this type of electoral system, politi-cal violence results from the unwillingness toshare power. Commentators believe that if this vio-lence continues unabated and the electoral systemis not revised, violence and intimidation may posea threat to future elections.
President Muluzi’s bid for a third term of officeis another cause for concern. On 4 July 2002, aconstitutional amendment – which would haveallowed President Muluzi to extend his term ofoffice to three terms – was narrowly defeated bythree votes. In order for the UDF to change theconstitution, it requires a two-third majority.Currently, there is a bid to present a reworkedOpen Term Bill in order to amend section 83(3) ofthe constitution, which states that a president mayserve a maximum of two terms. The president alsorecently passed a presidential decree that bansdemonstrations for or against the third term bill.Police activity is being used to prevent thesedemonstrations. This decree has also sparked adebate on the independence and efficacy of thejudicial system. A High Court ruled that the afore-mentioned decree was unconstitutional. However,a few days later another High Court reversed theprevious ruling. Compounding the problem is theviolence that has been sparked by demonstrationsagainst the third term bid. Lobby groups, non-gov-ernmental organisations, churches, opposition parties and international donor communities are opposed to attempts aimed at amending the constitution.
In essence, commentators argue that the bid fora third term of office, and the subsequent attempt toamend the constitution, have three serious implica-tions. Firstly, it is argued that these moves havecaused divisions within the ruling party, which maylead to the fragmentation of the party. This could, inturn, threaten its majority in parliament. Secondly,dissension within civil society and the opposition ison the increase. If ignored, this dissension mayspark violent protest, which could exasperate thepolitical tension already evident in the run-up to the2004 elections. Thirdly, if the call for the amend-ment succeeds, it will have a negative impact onMalawi’s international donors. This is particularlyrelevant to the country’s qualification for theHeavily Indebted Poor Country (HIPC) status,which attracts large development aid. Some com-mentators believe that serious consideration shouldbe given to the implications of the third term bill inorder to avoid a backward slide for democracy.
A number of other factors challenge the prac-tice of democracy in Malawi. Parliament has beencriticised for its failure to perform its parliamen-tary functions. It has also been criticised for failingto maintain democratic structures amid allegationsof a limited separation of powers. A lack of trans-parency and accountability, a failure to reinstatethe Senate, and the removal of the recall provisionhave also resulted in criticism. The severe corrup-tion within government, as well as the compro-mised independence of the media, have alsocontributed to this assessment. The negativeimplication of these allegations is that donor fund-ing received for poverty alleviation, food shortagesand HIV/AIDS may be jeopardised.
It appears that two fundamental issues need tobe addressed in order to prevent a severe deterio-ration of democracy. Firstly, the type of electoralsystem adopted and the regional politicisation ofelectoral voting; and secondly, the impetus toamend the constitution. Concerted efforts arerequired in order to return Malawi to thefavourable position it held in the five years follow-ing its first multi-party elections.
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Malawi’s Presidentand chairman of theSADC Bakili Muluzi
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* Britt de Klerk is currently a Programme Officer at ACCORD.
1. USAID, (2000), “Malawi: Strengthening Parliament and CivilSociety”, Semiannual report, available at:http://www.usaid.gov/regions/afr/country_info/malawi.html
ENDNOTEENDNOTE
hat makes democracy work? This is aquestion which has occupied the minds
of academics, researchers, philosophersand practitioners for decades. The answer
is by no means a simple one. The building blocksof democracy – competition for political power,inclusive participation for the selection of leadersand policies, and sufficient civil and political lib-erties – offer only a framework upon which todevelop democracy. They do not guarantee its sus-tainability or consolidation. Democratic principlesand institutions are required in order for thedemocratisation process to begin and develop.However, where these institutions are weak, they
may be used to perpetuate divisions (based onclass, race or ethnicity) within society. For exam-ple, elections are considered a bastion for democ-racy. However, where a society is severely divided,these elections may be used to mobilise ethnicity.Elections may turn into a contest (and conflict)between ‘us’ and ‘them’. In short, democracyrequires a commitment, by leaders and citizens, toinstitutionalise its principles. Nations are alsorequired to practice them within the political,social and economic arena. Where this commit-ment fails, so does the sustainability of democracy.
Zimbabwe has been cited as an example of acountry with democratic institutions. However,
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BY BRITT DE KLERK ZIMBABWE
One democracy, many
shades – strengthening
democracy strengthens society
democracy work?
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these institutions function undemocratically. Thereindeed exists a constitution; elections are heldperiodically; there is a semblance of oppositionpermitted; there is a vast and active civil society;and certain civil and political rights are providedfor. However, how far does ‘true’ democracy pre-vail? If these institutions do not perform democra-tic functions, can democracy sustain itself?
The presidential elections – in which PresidentRobert Mugabe ensured his place as the country’sleader for another six-year term – were shrouded incontroversy. Debate within the regional and inter-national arenas resulted in varied reactions andopinions. Civil society and opposition partiesbelieve the elections were neither free nor fair. The Southern African Development Community (SADC) Parliamentary Forum also declared theelections to be neither free nor fair. However, theSADC Council of Ministers, the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) and individual govern-ments disagree. South Africa declared the elec-tions legitimate, while the Commonwealth andmost country observer missions said the opposite.If there is such divergence of opinion, what doesthis mean for the objective assessment of democracy? How can one use free and fair elec-tions as a benchmark for measuring democracy ordemocratic consolidation?
A vibrant civil society is believed to be impor-tant for democracy, both in the transition to and con-solidation of democracy. With regard to the former,civil society can mobilise popular response to unde-mocratic authority. Where the political space beginsto open, civil society can play a significant role inassisting government. It can also educate peopleabout democracy. With regard to the consolidationof democracy, civil society can provide a ‘check andbalance’ function, in which it assesses the functionsand institutions of the state and government. As such, it can measure the degree of democracywithin these bodies. Civil society can at times assist government in the promotion of democracy.Alternatively, it may operate in opposition to govern-ment. In both cases, it occupies a space betweengovernment and civilians. Within this space, itattempts to hold government accountable for itsactions; it educates and informs the people of gov-ernment’s actions; and it encourages and promotes anation’s rights and responsibilities with regard tosustaining democracy. Civil society also provides amechanism through which potential conflicts maybe prevented. For example, it provides forums foropposing parties to talk to each other. It also negoti-ates towards agreement, rather than resorting tophysical violence. Through keeping a ‘watchful eye’ on government, voicing concern and offering
Police and election workers get ready to
leave the town ofBendura, 130 kms north
of the capital Harare,after the re-election of
President RobertMugabe to another
six-year term
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recommendations, civil society can avoid potentialdecisions which may spark dissension among indi-viduals or groups. In short, civil society has a role toplay in keeping democracy moving forward in orderto sustain democracy within a given society.Considered in this way, civil society is regarded bymany as crucial for democracy.
However, to what extent can civil society effectdemocratic change and consolidate democracy, ifits formation and function is limited by the state?In Zimbabwe, two laws were passed that confinecivil society: the Private Voluntary Organisations(PVO) Act and the Public Order and Security(POSA) Act. The former requires all non-govern-mental organisations to register in order to operatewithin Zimbabwe. The latter requires that any pub-lic meeting of two or more people must be reportedto the police in advance. Where civil societyactions are limited, what measures can theseorganisations take in order to affect change?Should an alternative vehicle for change anddemocracy-building be utilised? The more dissen-sion increases among opposition and civil society,the more the potential for violent conflictincreases, whilst the potential for democracydecreases. Democratic institutions (such as civil society) play an important part in managing
conflict and consolidating democracy. Where civilsociety is impeded, so the chances of sustainingdemocracy decreases and the potential for conflictincreases.
You may well ask how it is that democracy playssuch an important conflict management function.Democracy provides inclusive and accountablesocial frameworks. These are flexible and can adaptto the changing global and local climate.Consequently, it can provide an enabling arena fornegotiation, compromise and cooperation. Thequestion is if the very ‘benchmarks’ of democracyare challenged, or are incapable of performingtheir democratic functions, how then do we consolidate democracy, and to what extent candemocracy be consolidated?
ZIMBABWE
* Britt de Klerk is currently a Programme Officer at ACCORD.
1. Bloomfield, David & Reilly, Ben (1998) ‘The Changing Natureof Conflict and Conflict Management’, in Harris, Peter & Reilly,Ben (eds) Democracy and Deep-Rooted Conflict: options forNegotiations, International Institute for Democracy andElectoral Assistance: Sweden, p.17.
2. Ibid.
ENDNOTEENDNOTE
Members of the rulingZANU PF party celebrate with a mockcoffin covered with aUS flag, symbolizingdefiance towardWashington's criticalstand on the electionprocess and callfor sanctions againstthe country
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n recent years the debate on transition theoryand on ‘consolidation of democracy’ hasplayed an increasingly important role inpolitical discourse – also on the continent of
Africa. In a rather deterministic way, transitiontheory became the launching pad of the consolida-tion of democracy school and the two schools ofthinking co-exist in a symbiotic – if not parasitic –way. Transition theorists wrote volumes on the (pre-) conditions for, and the processes and stagesof, ‘transitioning’ from authoritarian rule to democ-racy. Concurrently an extensive corpus of theoreti-cal and even prescriptive material emanated(mostly from Western theorists) on the ‘third waveof democracy’ – invariably understood to be transi-tion from one-party state systems, authoritarianstate systems and military regimes to western
ideal-type multi-party democracy systems. Most ofthe literature in the field also made a close linkbetween the transition of implied ‘underdevel-oped’/ ‘developing’ states away from the inheritedstructures (the latter reflecting some inferioritycompared to ‘advanced’ democracies) to multi-party democracy and liberal-capitalism cum free-market economic systems. ‘Ambassadors forDemocracy’ were regularly visiting these ‘back-ward’ states to advocate the inseparable linkbetween political liberalization and economic lib-eralization (read: the imperative to impose multi-party states and free market economies suitable to‘Global Economics’).
Needless to say, the ideology of globalizationand the advocacy thereof by powerful Westernstates played a major role in this. Hence, the
BY IAN L IEBENBERGDEMOCRACY
Whose agenda?
Globilisation and democracy
– riding waves of change
It is the format that counts
I
consolidation is
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debates on political economy were increasingly(some may say regressively) moved away fromdependency theory and radical social theories tosemantic theorems and stratagems that favouredthe liberal and capitalist state. These states wouldostensibly be ‘sucked into a global economy’ whichwould play a positive role in both democratizingstate and society, and at the same time allowing fora ‘trickle down’/ ‘spill-over’ effect that will benefitpoor states and economies (and hence civil com-munities) in the to-be-soon-developed countries.Some referred to this exchange of technology andexpertise in order to ‘uplift’ the Third World coun-ties as diffusion. Needless again to say that withthis process of democratization (that was aggres-sively marketed, especially after 1990) economicpressures were unleashed on many smaller statesin order to force them to accept the new paradigmof democracy. In many of these attempts theInternational Monetary Fund (IMF) and the Wordbank played no small role in ‘assisting’ these fail-ing (or so-called ‘suspended’) states to accept dras-tic Structural Adjustment Programmes. Some othersmaller states that democratized without thesepressures, such as South Africa, voluntarily movedcloser to globalisation rhetoric and pro-activelymoved towards macro-economic restructuring pro-grams that resembled – or at least reflected – manyof the characteristics of structural adjustment pro-grams, however self chosen.
The latter reminds one about the statement bysociologist Anthony Giddens that: ‘Globalisation isby no means a new phenomenon. It started whenwestern nations sent their fleets to colonize otherterritories’ (author’s paraphrasing). Not everyoneaccepted this. African theorists, like NoamChomsky, started to deconstruct the self-interestand hypocrisy behind such theories of development.
Many theorists have consistently pointed outthe potential dangers of such a copycat approach inpolitical and economic spheres – the late ClaudeAke and others such as Samir Amin, Houtondji,Mamdami, Kwesi-Kwa Prah, and Mogobe Ramosebeing some examples. Again, needless to say that insuch an atmosphere of a New Global Order,Globalization and worldwide Liberalization (seeFukuyama and his ideological stance on ‘The Endof History’ debate), these criticisms were down-played and undervalued – if not ridiculed.
ON THE ABYSS: BETWEEN ONE-SIDED CONSOLIDATION ANDREALISTIC VISIONARY POLITICS
The need for a sustainable participatory – or atleast participative – democracy, a just division ofscarce resources (read: social justice and eco-nomic democratisation) and the protection andenhancement of human rights, is not debatable.
DEMOCRACY
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Workers of pan-Africancarrier Air Afrique
demonstrate after theWorld Bank
recommended thecash-strapped airline to
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DEMOCRACY
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The combination of the former would equal democ-ratic consolidation. However the one-sided inter-pretation as advocated between multi-partydemocracy and economic liberalization (the rightto enhance the free market as operative principleeverywhere) is.
Experiences in Latin America and Africa pro-vide reason to argue that the multi-party mantra asa panacea for all has not necessarily led to animprovement of the quality of life of marginalizednations and communities, with the possible excep-tions of chunks of the old, transitional and newelites. In some cases, the old elite and the newelite have struck an amicable consensus on self-enrichment, while the rich-poor gap continuous togrow, e.g. Brasil and South Africa. Africa andSouthern Africa will not be able to side-step thisimportant debate, and the real-life policy anddevelopment/reconstructive steps that are impliedwith it. And to be quite frank, it is better for us notto side-step these choices and the commitmentsthat are to flow from them. In the long term this will
be to the benefit of the Pan-African continent,inclusive of the hub of states that forms theSouthern African Development Community.
QUO VADIS? MOKOKOHUNGWE, RECONSTRUCTIONAND THE AWAKENING OFAFRIKA…Africa was, and still is, portrayed by many (some ofthem quite paternalistic in their approach) as abasket-case or even a ‘continent without hope’.Some of these criticisms are valid. Others are sim-ply out of frustration at Africa’s unwillingness touncritically tow this suggested line of democratiza-tion and economic liberalization.
This reality will have to be reckoned with as far as Africans debate, critically evaluate and make choices about our regional and conti-nental future reconstruction and growth. There is the obvious counter-argument that Africa has
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“People united willnever be defeated”.Poor South Africansdemand land andpoverty relief at theUN Earth Summit. They are joined by militant anti-globalisation activists.
produced, in different forms, ‘working democra-cies’. Examples would include Botswana, Senegal,Namibia and Egypt. Some of them – even iflabeled authoritarian liberal democracies, such asBotswana – have proven that they can succeedeconomically. But there are also African statesthat equally effectively maintain stability and eco-nomic growth under political conditions thatWestern theorists would very hesitantly describeas democracy. The non-party state of Uganda pre-sents one example. The state of Libya is another.These states do not fit the glib labels attached tothe rather restrictive Western definitions ofdemocracies. They also raise the most uneasinessas they are also working states and growingeconomies. They just don’t ‘fit the pattern.’
This is exactly where African states offer unique lessons, opportunities and chal-lenges. There are working states and workingeconomies. And there are states with an excep-tional human rights record. And there are veryfew hegemons that consistently impose theirworld-view on smaller states through aggressionand intimidation – unlike elsewhere on the globe.
There are obviously some splendid failures,with dehumanizing and grotesque consequences.
These failures provide pointers towards ‘how not todo it’ and a potential warehouse of past lessonslearnt.
At a time when the African Union is beingestablished and an African Parliament is a futurepossibility, positive developments must challengethe pessimistic views of Africa held by many. Inshort, both our successes and failures introduce avariety of potential positive angles into the debateand practice of sustainable democracy and eco-nomic democratization. Perhaps more so than inother continents?
There may be no agreement – and vastly differ-ent interpretations on the economic pathways to bechosen: the application, protection and enhance-ment of human rights, the structures and processesneeded to provide ‘power to the people.
It is here that the role of an increasingly inclu-sive dialogue becomes pertinent, if not imperative.African States and Nations, Civil Communities andpolitical leadership have agreements on manyissues. On as many there are differences. Ratherthan being perceived as a weakness, these currentdifferences may be strengths.
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DEMOCRACY
LESLIEE. K
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Sierra’s Leone’sFinance Minister PeterJ. Kuyyembeh (L) talks
about the challengesthat are facing AfricanNations during a press
conference withTanzania’s Finance
Minister Basil P.Mramba (R)
CONTINENTAL DIALOGUE,SOCIAL ACCOMMODATION ANDRECONSTRUCTION/GROWTHThis wide field of real and potential agreementsand disagreements provides the launching platformfor a committed process of dialogue based onshared concerns and interests - for African peopleand states, to the benefit of Africans by Africans.There is nothing idealistic about this. This is animperative, a commitment and a realistic vision.There are various areas where such a dialogue pro-gramme can be of value. I will highlight only four:
The issue of state form and procedures for participative or participatory democracy.
From the various models in Africa (both the suc-cesses and failures) there is a need to have adirected dialogue on how such structures can bebettered and honed to the benefit of people on var-ious levels of government and in the interfacebetween rural and urban politics. Africa hasyielded a wealth of lessons learnt since Uhuru.This can be fruitfully exploited and mined. A les-son of ‘how not to do it’ provides pointers towards‘how to do it’, as it eliminates unacceptable anddehumanizing failures.
The issue of cultural, religious, linguisticand social identity accommodation.
This is an area that should not be underestimated,because this can be both the source of tension andconflict, or the source of social reconstruction anddevelopment and entrenching human rights. Underthis issue the contending, but not necessarily con-tradictory, notions of human rights should form anintegral part of the dialogue aimed at mutual co-operation, accommodation and empowerment.
Socio-economic systems and socio-economic reconstruction.
There is no single pathway to achieve economicreconstruction and sustainable economies of scale.An African dialogue that seeks to benefit from thisinsight without compromising or allowing ‘imposedmodels’, which are glibly argued, can benefit com-munities, nations and citizens of Africa. At variousstages in the history of world economics, variousmodels succeeded in providing sustainable and
growing economies. One needs not get myopicallyfocused on one model or paradigm (even if it isaggressively advocated by outsiders that want toimpose their will on weaker states and communi-ties). Europe and the Scandinavian countries, atvarious stages during different epochs, built strongeconomies through models as diverse as democra-tic socialism, (radical) social democracy, and free-markets characterized by various levels of stateintervention. The same applies to Asia, where con-tending models have produced economic suc-cesses. Here, the issue of third-generation humanrights needs to be addressed in close associationwith socio-economic options and policy-choices.
Agreement on mutual problem-solvingand economic reconstruction withoutforeign impositions.
This is the fourth and last of the ponderables. Butperhaps it is the most important – or even the foun-dation for future success. There is a differencebetween taking lessons on successful democracy oreconomy building from other countries and beingsubmitted to the humiliation of imposed programs.Africans can only move ahead if we are willing totake lessons learnt from elsewhere, and equallyfrom our own experiences, without submitting tothe aggressive imposition of theoretical and politi-cal-economic models by others. It is perhaps herethat the need arises for mutual and principledagreement, a growing common consensus and adirected will to act on this agreed consensus as thestarting/building block for future construction. Andwith that, Africans have to say collectively: ‘This isnot something that we will tolerate from others.From Cape Town to Tripoli, from Mombassa toDakar and from Luanda to Maputo.’
Neither Egypt nor Libya, Namibia norBotswana have to be seen as ‘too strong or tooweak’ – or ‘too different’ - to take part in this dia-logue and choice building. Building tomorrowalready today cannot be postponed or relegated to asecond priority in our context.
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* Ian Liebenberg is a Research Associate at the Centre forInternational Political Studies (CIPS). in the Unit for AfricanStudies at the University of Pretoria.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DEMOCRACY
26
he decision by the Kenya African NationalUnion (KANU), to allow plural democracy
into Kenya in December 1991, was cele-brated throughout East Africa1 party author-
itarianism had come to an end, and democracy(presumably) would flourish. Now, 10 years downthe line, the euphoria that greeted the democratisa-tion movement has ebbed, and disillusionment hasset in among the Kenyan electorate2. The changefrom a one party to multi-party state has not translated into genuine democratic transition – theinstitutions are in place but they are not seen as representative.
After capitulating to both internal and externalpressure for democracy, the regime of PresidentDaniel arap Moi repealed section (A) of the coun-try’s constitution, which had imposed single party
rule. However, crises emerged during both the1992 and 1997 elections. Though the polling dayswere generally peaceful – due mainly to the pres-ence of international monitors – the elections wereconducted against the backdrop of an uneven elec-toral field. Insurmountable obstacles faced opposi-tion parties, and the state instigated rural ethnicviolence within cosmopolitan districts3.
Facing a disjointed opposition, Mr Moi wonboth the presidential and parliamentary majority.However, his regime has previously been a minoritygovernment, enjoying only slightly more than 36percent of the total vote.His wins gave him a newlease of life, and allowed him to reverse the democ-ratisation process. He has reluctantly allowed con-stitutional reforms, but the electoral process isheavily skewed towards the ruling party. In the
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BY KARANJA MBUGUAKENYA
of democracy in Kenya
Moving in the right direction:
A testing road ahead for both
government and oposition
political parties
transition politics and
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absence of major political challenges, Mr Moi iswell placed to dictate the terms of the impendingtransition. Consequently, he will bequeath hiscountry weak democratic institutions.
This is contrary to democratic pluralism. Thequestion is what went wrong? The answer lies inthe dialectics of the struggle. After the fall of theBerlin Wall in 1989, autocratic governments inAfrica – which had been propped up by Westernpowers intent on controlling the spread of social-ism – lost their strategic value. Kenya was one ofthose countries.
Characterised by the synchronisation of power– which saw a marriage between kleptocratic andethnocratic tendencies – the conservative govern-ment carried out an internal campaign of repres-sion against divergent views. This campaignincluded detention without trial, arrests on chargesof sedition, and the denial of employment opportu-nities. The campaign climaxed during the mid1980s, with the Mwakenya4 crackdown, which wascharacterised by police torture and abuse of thejudicial process.
Moreover, the Moi regime dealt a deadly blow toKenya’s fledgling democracy by changing the votingmethod from the universally accepted secret ballot, tothe queuing system. This change took place in 1988.The subsequent mass disenfranchisement spreadinternal dissent. Provincial administration officialsengaged in electoral malpractices. Consequently, theregime’s loss of appeal in the West coincided with abudding internal reform movement, spawned by oneparty tyranny.
The reform movement consisted of leftists, whohad been suppressed since the 1960s, religiousorganisations, which had come out strongly againstrepression in the late 1980s; establishment politi-cians, who had been disenfranchised since 1988;human rights lawyers, who were against the 1986constitutional amendment (which removed thesecurity of tenure of constitutional offices); elitemembers of society, who had lost out in the powerstruggles of the 1980s; and ambitious individuals,whose success in a one party state could not beguaranteed5. Consequently, the movement was notinformed by a common interpretation of the mean-ing and content of democracy
Under the leadership of the Forum forRestoration of Democracy (FORD), the movementformed its campaign around section 2(A) of theconstitution, which outlawed democratic pluralism.Consequently, the movement gave birth to liberaldemocracy. Besides opening the political front, the
reform movement also expanded the frontiers ofexpression – the country saw a new genre of mediaemerge and act as its mouthpiece. Despite stateefforts to suppress it, this media – which consistedof the Nairobi Law Monthly, Society and financemagazines – thrived. However, one criticismagainst this media is that it preoccupied itself withthe sleaze and failures of the Moi regime.Consequently, it missed the opportunity to cam-paign for a sustainable media policy.
December 1991 saw section 2(A) of the consti-tution amended. However, obstacles still stood inthe way of democracy. For example, the entire legalstructure retained a one party formation. Duringthe course of its evolution, the one party state haderoded ‘all the checks in the constitution. Insteadof spreading power among several offices, it con-centrated power in one office: the presidency’6. Thepresidency had emasculated all the independentbodies necessary for democratic practice, such asthe electoral commission, the public service com-mission and the attorney-general. This had severalimplications for the emerging democratic process.
Firstly, the legal structure allowed the execu-tive to monopolise the instruments of expression,such as the state media. It also took a keener inter-est than is normal in a democratic society in thejudiciary, the electoral commission could not berelied upon to supervise free and fair elections, thecivil service became an instrument of the rulingparty, and the judiciary could not strongly enforcefundamental rights7. Consequently, a multi-partydemocracy was superimposed on a single partystate infrastructure.
On the other hand, the government deliberatelyset out to derail the transition to democracy8. Usingthe colonial Public Order Act Cap 56, the government constantly denied licenses to opposi-tion parties. This prevented them from holding rallies aimed at popularising their manifestoes.Opposition politicians were constantly arrestedand arraigned in court on flimsy charges, andwhere licences were granted, the provincial admin-istration continually disrupted their rallies.
These undemocratic practices soon formed thecentral tenets from which the constitutionalreforms campaign grew. A consequence of thiscampaign was the Inter Parties ParliamentaryGroup (IPPG) minimum reforms agreement9, whichrepealed a number of statutes, the majority ofwhich related to the electoral process. Among themwas the Public Order Act, which gave powers to theprovincial administration and police over political
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parties. With the IPPG agreement in force, partieswere no longer required to obtain permits for ral-lies. They were only required to notify the policefor security purposes.
Legal obstacles aside, the ruling party engi-neered a new culture of political defections withinthe country. A number of leaders who had beenelected on opposition party tickets defected to theruling party. Often, defectors were received by thepresident (also leader of the ruling party), or by topruling party officials. This presented new problems.While the process of receiving defectors blurred thedifference between ruling party and state functions,defections were a new form of corruption aimed atundermining democracy. Defectors expressed norespect for the will of the electorate, showed nounderstanding of political party policies, and weretoo expensive to the taxpayers (owing to the by-elections that were necessitated).
Secondly, the ruling party introduced politicalzones, which were inimical to the law. Certain dis-tricts were designated as ruling party zones, andopposition parties were denied permits to cam-paign there. Members of ethnic communities resid-ing in those areas, who were suspected ofsympathising with the opposition, were threatenedwith violence and evictions. Ruling party officialsalso started a weird campaign for majimboism10,
which is a form of ethnic federalism11. Supportedby state machinery, these officials held rallies inselected provinces and demanded majimboism as acounterweight to plural democracy. Only thoseindividuals who had stakes in the status quo, orwho felt threatened by change, vociferously cam-paigned for majimboism12 .
Thirdly, state-sponsored ethnic clashes eruptedin various parts of the country. ‘As the clamour forpluralism gathered momentum’, President Moi‘predicted’ that Kenya’s return to a multi
party system would threaten the state. He also‘predicted’ that it would polarise the country along tribal lines, and plunge it into ethnic vio-lence13. Consequently, Kenyans exchanged know-ing glances whenever ethnic violence eruptedalong the perimeters of Moi’s Rift Valley and theCoast Province. Outside of Nairobi, these twoprovinces are more cosmopolitan than any of theother five.
The purpose of the violence was to alter politi-cal demography in favour of the ruling party. It wasalso aimed at predetermining the outcome of elec-tions, thereby guaranteeing the ruling party victoryin the elections14. Consequently, it was targeted atcommunities perceived to be opposition sympa-thisers. To conceal the involvement of the state, theviolence was executed through private militias15.
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Supporters of Kenyaneconomist Mwai Kibakihold up posters of theircandidate shortly afterhe was nominated asopposition presidentialcandidate for theNational RainbowCoalition in Nairobi
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These militias mobilised traditional structures,such as ‘warrior’ bands, who were often dressed intraditional attire or informal uniform. They werealso armed with traditional weapons, such as bowsand arrows, machetes and spears16.
Opposition parties criticised the government’shuman rights record, as well as its corruption andmanagement of the economy. However, few con-ceived an alternative system and their political dis-content hardly transcended anti-Moi slogans. Asmentioned earlier, FORD consisted of former left-ists, right-wing politicians (disenfranchised duringthe dying years of the one-party regime), humanrights lawyers, ethnic nationalists and other ambi-tious individuals. Strange bedfellows indeed, butthey had agreed on a truce – however temporary orprecarious – to fell the one-party tyranny.
However, this marriage of convenience sooncame tumbling down. The party suffered from petty squabbles about individual ambitions, ethnicnationalism and ideological differences17. As aresult, the opposition could not transcend one-party political culture18. While one wing was con-cerned with the institutionalisation of democracy,another was more interested in wrestling powerfrom the incumbent elite, without fundamentallyaltering the existing social hierarchies. Boggeddown by wrangles over leadership, FORD missedthe opportunity to initiate a discourse on the neces-sary reforms and institutions required in order to entrench democracy. Consequently, its policy
document – the Post Election Action Programme(PEAP) – was not pursued.
Thereafter, FORD burst under the weight ofethnic nationalism and petty rivalry. It competed astwo separate parties during the 1992 elections:FORD-Kenya, led by veteran politician, JaramogiOginga Odinga; and FORD-Asili, led by formerdetainee and cabinet minister, Kenneth Matiba.Each party won 31 seats in parliament. Jaramogi’sLuo community formed the bedrock of Ford-Kenya, and turned out to be relatively progressiveand politically focused. In the one year thatJaramogi led it before he died in February 1994, itarticulated labour and welfare issues. On the otherhand, FORD-Asili was largely conservative. Itsconstituency – which consisted of the underprivi-leged within the Kikuyu community – supportedthe clamour for change, and believed the new erawould redress the social injustices of the previousone. Though Matiba emerged second to PresidentMoi in the election, his party’s post-election poli-tics turned out to be eccentric and incoherent. Thiswas largely due to his ill health. The party disinte-grated a few years later.
The other main group in the opposition – theDemocratic Party of Kenya (DP) – was an offshootof KANU. It was formed by the demoted vice-pres-ident, Mwai Kibaki, and his allies. All DP officialswere an integral part of the Moi regime, and wereapologists of one-party autocracy. Unlike theFORD sisters, which drew legitimacy and moral
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KANU SecretaryGeneral Raila
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authority from their involvement in the struggle fordemocracy, the ‘DP’s formation [appeared] to havebeen motivated by two factors: individual ambitionand class interests’19. Indeed, the party was formedin order to articulate the interests of the middleclass, which amassed substantial wealth during theeconomic boom of the 1970s20.
Formed soon after plural democracy was legis-lated, the party hardly concealed its reactionarycharacter – it drew its leadership from the old gen-eration politicians, who had their best years duringthe previous era. Some of them barely concealedtheir ethnocentric strains of arrogance and con-tempt for other Kenyans. Not surprisingly, theparty performed poorly in the elections. It won 22seats in parliament, and Kibaki came third in thepresidential race.
With these diverse interests represented in theopposition, it could hardly approach the post-1992democratisation challenges as a coherent move-ment. Confronted by the dialectic between ethnic-ity and nationalism, all of them opted for theformer. The FORD sisters plunged into destructive
intra-party wrangles, and eventually split intoother smaller parties. FORD-Kenya gave birth toSAFINA and the National Development Party(NDP), while a third faction teamed up with theSocial Democratic Party (SDP). Out of FORD-Asilicame Saba Saba Asili, and a second faction joinedthe SDP.
The DP was torn between its desire to appearnational, and the temptation to package itself as aGEMA21 front. Its leaders’ participation in the newdispensation was motivated by the desire to regainpower. It never saw the changes that took place inthe country as a long-term struggle for democracy.Issues – such as good governance, human rights,and constitutional and economic reforms – passedthem by. Consequently, the party’s contribution tothe political discourse was poor and often out oftouch with contemporary thinking22.
Nonetheless, opposition parties still played acrucial role in furthering the cause of democracy,in that they counterbalanced the ruling party inparliament. However, their preoccupation withinternal turmoil, as well as their incapability to
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Kenyan presidentDaniel arap Moiarrives to participate ina political meeting.After ruling Kenya for24 years, mostly withabsolute powers, Moi'sgrip on the country and its politicians is slipping away as hisparty splinters and former yesmen turnagainst him.
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coherently pursue the cause of democracy, left avacuum. This void was filled by the emergent non-governmental organisation (NGO) sector, particu-larly the human rights and governance NGOs. TheKenya Human Rights Commission (KHRC), aswell as the Kenyan chapter of the InternationalCommission of Jurists (ICJ), housed these NGOS23.
Acting as the intellectual wing of the opposi-tion, these NGOs focused on legal and politicalreforms. They formed a civil society lobby calledthe Citizens Coalition for Constitutional Change(4Cs). The 4Cs initiated the National ConventionAssembly (NCA), which, in turn, led to theNational Convention Executive Council (NCEC).Together, these initiatives spearheaded the mid-1990 reforms, which culminated in mass actionprior to the 1997 elections. Meanwhile, otherNGOs emerged and pursued economic and publicpolicy issues. In addition, lobbies for women andchildren’s rights were also formed.
However, political NGOs had no constit-uency, and relied on political parties for mass
mobilisation24. Moreover, they were donor-driven,which raised suspicion within political circles. Thepoliticians had a point – if democracy was to beborn out of a struggle by the oppressed (as wasKenya’s experience in the 1950s and early 1990s),then donor-driven liberation initiatives were out ofform. Consequently, politicians withdrew their sup-port. They teamed up with KANU and formed theIPPG prior to the 1997 elections. As a result, theNGO-led mass protests collapsed. The parliament-led IPPG initiative undertook minimum constitu-tional reforms, which saw the country throughelections. It promised a full review of the constitu-tion after the elections. However, that promise hasstill not been fulfilled. There are several reasonsfor this.
Firstly, the ruling party has not been eager topursue reforms. The present constitution confersexcessive powers to certain institutions (notablythe presidency), and these institutions haveenabled the ruling party to retain power. Secondly,some militant groups within the opposition shifted
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their relations with the ruling party, and adopted apolicy of ‘cooperation’. Leader of the opposition,Raila Odinga, has been part and parcel of thereform movement since the early 1980s. He playeda crucial role in the events of early 1990s, whichushered in plural democracy. He also provided foot soldiers during the mass protests of 1997.However, his policy shift completed the transfor-mation he had started, when he embraced ethnicnationalism in the early days of plural democracy.Less courageous MPs introduced a weird conceptof technical party membership, in order to retaintheir seats. They openly shifted their loyalties toother parties, but remained in parliament as mem-bers of the parties which originally sponsoredthem. This diluted their contribution to the policydiscourse and reform initiatives.
The 1997 elections saw the conservative wingascend within the opposition. In an election defi-cient of issues – but rich in ethnic passions – theDP opted to team up with KANU. Under the leader-ship of the IPPG, it won 39 parliamentary seats andbecame the official opposition. This developmenthad two related effects: it demobilised activism, andconsequently, gave KANU leeway to regain the ini-tiative. As Mr Moi and his party recaptured the ini-tiative, the centre of political reforms shifted again– this time to religious organisations.
These organisations teamed up under theUfungamano25 initiative and spearheaded muchdesired reforms. The Constitution of Kenya ReviewCommission (CKRC) – a compromise group – wasestablished. The CKRC has been busy in the coun-tryside, collating public views. Last month, parlia-ment passed a law that will allow the CKRC extratime (to January 2003) in order to complete thereview process. This move came about amidst acri-monious debate on whether or not to extend theterm of parliament (and that of president) beyondthe constitutional mandate. However, PresidentMoi has said that he will call elections on time.According to Kenyan law, the president has thepower to call elections without reference to theNational Assembly. In opposition and civil societycircles, there are two conflicting views regardingthe way forward.
The first view is represented by the NationalAlliance for Change – this is a group that bringstogether conservative forces within the opposition.The alliance would prefer elections to be on time,but would like them to take place under a new con-stitution. The group has pegged its plans on a sin-gle candidate against KANU, and has developed
its election strategy on new power structures. Theposition of prime minister, as well as severaldeputy premiers, feature in its new structures.However, the group is ambiguous about what to doif the CKRC does not complete its review processbefore December.
The second view emanates from the KenyaPeoples Coalition. This coalition prefers an interimconstitution that would see the country throughelections. It would also, presumably, reform theelectoral process in order to ensure that the win-ning presidential candidate garners at least 50% ofthe total votes. Also, it would introduce propor-tional representation, and would address transitionjustice issues. However, opponents of this viewargue that the process of enacting an interim con-stitution could be as acrimonious as enacting a newone. A third view, represented by a faction of theSDP, would prefer elections to take place under the current constitution. Their argument is thatPresident Moi would take advantage of the reviewprocess in order to extend his rule. They cite a1992 court ruling, which favoured Mr Moi when hiseligibility was challenged, on the grounds that hehad been president since 1978. The disadvantageof this view is that it reduces Kenya’s democratisa-tion process to the replacement of one man –President Moi.
Such is the divergence within the opposition’sperspectives. Their inability to transcend ethnicsentiment also works to their disadvantage. Mr Moiseeks to re-define Kenya’s democracy in his image.In April this year, his KANU party merged with theNDP to form a new KANU. The party is currentlyexperiencing fissures, along ethnic lines, over hissuccession. The members of the defunct NDP areleading a revolt and the party’s future looks shaky.However, Mr Moi has spent a lifetime confoundingexpectations. He runs his party with an iron fist,and his speeches are often spiced with triumphanttones. Three conditions favour him.
Firstly, with 24 years at the helm, Mr Moi con-trols all the state machinery, and has not hesitatedto use it to his advantage. He is also conscious ofthe generation ‘jam’ that his prolonged stay inpower has created. Secondly, free of ideologicalpersuasions, all political parties have a commonperception of power – they all perceive politicalengagement as an instrument of personal edifica-tion, and as an accumulation of wealth. Thirdly, MrMoi has a long association with his challengers,and he knows them relatively well. Furthermore,he has straddled Kenya’s political landscape for
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more than four decades. In the past, he has co-opted them, allowing them to feed on the troughs ofthe state. He has also rotated them in order to dis-arm them. This has blemished their credibility.Consequently, Mr Moi is able to structure the nextdispensation, despite the opposition.
Away from the political scene, the democraticculture has permeated other institutions of gover-nance. One need not belabour the vibrancy of civilsociety. The media has made giant strides, despiteconcerted state efforts to stem its growth. During thelast few years, judicial methods of suppression –which include hefty court fines for defamationcharges – have replaced the old methods of the early1990s. Recently, the National Assembly passed alaw that was tailored to control freedom of expres-sion. Nevertheless, the country has seen an increase
in the number of print and electronic media houses.Other than the state-owned Kenya Broad-
casting Corporation (KBC), several other televisionstations have been established. They include theKenya Television Network (KTN), owned by theStandard Group; Nation TV, owned by the NationGroup; Family TV; Stellavision TV; and Citizen TV.In terms of radio, there is a range of FM stationswhich are competing with the KBC, despite theirrestriction to a 60km radius around Nairobi. In theprint media, the People Daily (founded as a weeklypaper in February 1993) has joined the DailyNation, the East African Standard, and the on-offKANU mouthpiece, the Kenya Times. The EastAfrican, which was founded in 1994 by the NationGroup, is also a credible regional weekly.
These media houses are more courageous and
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vibrant compared to the timid, conformist press ofthe early 1990s, as is a new genre of print media -the alternative press. However, this media pales,both in quality and content, compared to the main-stream and alternative media of the early 1990s.As an instrument of social governance, however,the media’s response towards social prejudiceleaves a lot to be desired. Instead of confrontingthese attitudes and stereotypes with a view tochanging them, the media often reinforces them.
In conclusion, Kenya has gone relatively pluralduring the last decade – at least in terms of therebeing a multiplicity of political parties and mediahouses. Sadly, this pluralism has not effected a fun-damental transformation in the way politics isapproached. However, the country is generallymore tolerant. Even state apologists have adopted
the lexicon of democracy and human rights. Rulingparty officials often quote the covenants of humanrights and fundamental freedoms. Meanwhile,attorney-general, Amos Wako, fraternises withhuman rights activists and civil society groups26.Despite strong resistance, the human rights doc-trine has even permeated the police and prisonsdepartments. On their part, opposition parties aremoving toward broad alliances. However, thesealliances – like the parties themselves – are lack-ing in shared ideological persuasions, and regionaland pan-African perspectives. In addition, the par-ties have yet to come up with viable options aimedat resolving the dual character of ethnicity, as wellas the dialectics of ethnicity and power. No doubt,these are part of the many challenges that will facedemocracy during the next decade.
* Mr Mbugua is a Nairobi-based Journalist
1 Arnii Ornara-0tunnu, ‘The Prospects For Democracy In EastAfrica’, Nairobi Law Monthly, No. 42, April-May 1992.
2 See commentaries in Daily Nation, Tuesday, July 9, 2002; andSunday Press, July 7, 2002; and Saturday, July 8, 2002.
3 ‘Killing The Vote: State-Sponsored Violence and FlawedElections In Kenya’, a Kenya Human Rights Commission report,1998.
4 Ngugi wa Thiong'o in ‘Barrel of a Pen’, Africa World Press,First Edition, 1983, pg IV.
5 The early 1980s repression drove several groups (whichespoused leftist values) underground. Mwakenya was the bestknown of them.
6 Weekly Review Magazine, December 13, 1991.
7 Pheroze Nowrojee ‘Constitutional Reform: What The Debate IsAll About’, Nairobi Law Monthly, No. 63, pg 8-16.
8 Ibid.
9 Dr. Gibson Kamau Kuria, ‘Arguments Against Pluralism CannotStand The Test’, Nairobi Law Monthly, No.59, pg 53-56.
10 Parliamentary parties formed the IPPG, after a series of violentstreet protests demanded constitutional reforms in mid-1997.The protests were led by civil society lobby, the NationalConvention Executive Council (NCEC). The IPPG consisted of
moderates who were opposed to the militant methodsemployed by the NCEC.
11 The policy of majimboism emerged in the late 1950s and early1960s. Based on the notion of ‘group rights’ - particularly therights of ethnic minorities, as well as exclusive ethnic territory -the policy is akin to federalism.
12 Professor Eric Aseka, ‘Federalism is a Different System FromMajimboism’, Daily Nation, August 3, 1994, pg 6.
13 Professor AI Amin Mazrui, ‘Majimbo: The Hidden Danger ForEverybody’, Daily Nation, July 11, 1994, pg 6.
14 ‘Killing The Vote, State-Sponsored Violence And FlawedElections in Kenya’, a Kenya Human Rights Commission report,1998.
15 ‘Playing With Fire: Weapons Proliferation, Political Violenceand Human Rights In Kenya’, a Human Rights Watch report,May 2002.
16 ‘Investigation Report on Violence in Kenya's Coast Province’,NGO council report, 1998; and ‘Playing With Fire: WeaponsProliferation, Political Violence and Human Rights In Kenya’, aHuman Rights Watch report, May 2002.
17 Ibid.
18 This tactic of using private militias is an informal style of repres-sion that was invented by the CIA in order to undermine leftwing governments in Latin America. It was also used to propup right wing governments in Africa. It was widely used inapartheid South Africa during the 1980s in order to repressanti-apartheid activists.
19 ‘Playing With Fire: Weapons Proliferation, Political Violenceand Human Rights In Kenya’, a Human Rights Watch report,May 2002.
20 ‘Majeshi ya Wazee’, a Friedrich Ebert Stiftung report, 2002.
21 Makau Mutua & Kamau Kuria: ‘The Kanu Government'sIntransigence: Opportunism and the Transition to Pluralisrn’,Nairobi Law Monthly, No. 42, April-May 1992, pg 43-45.
22 Kiraitu Murungi, ‘Reflections on Ford's Leadership Debate’,Nairobi Law Monthly, No. 42, April-May 1992. 23 DavidThroup and Charles Homsbuy ‘Multi-party Politics In Kenya’,First Edition, 1995.
24 Ibid.
25 GEMA is an acronym for Gileuyu, Embu and Meru - a groupof linguistically and culturally close communities living aroundMount Kenya. In pre-colonial Kenya, they circulated goods,women and services, but were not ethnic. Today, they form thelargest community and voting block. The name GEMA wascoined in the 1970s, when an organisation by that name wasformed to protect the interests of the elite around JomoKenyatta. Incidentally, most DP founder members andfinanciers were former GEMA officials.
26 Daily Nation, March 12, 2001, news analysis, pg 6.
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had the privilege of unofficially observing theLesotho elections earlier this year. In this arti-cle, I will offer my rather tentative impressionsof the event, conscious of the fact that I cannot
in any way claim to be an authority on Lesotho.
HISTORICAL BACKGROUND The archaeology behind elections in Lesotho isably documented by Southall and Petlane1. Lesothoheld its first elections in 1965. The contest wasmainly between the Basotho National Party (BNP)and the Basotho Congress Party (BCP)2. The BNPgained 51,66 percent of the parliamentary seats, the BCP clinched 41,67 percent, and the
Marematlou Freedom Party (MFP)3 captured theremaining 6,67 percent.
Owing to the first-past-the-post-electoral sys-tem, the BNP was assured a greater percentage ofparliamentary seats than it actually won. Fox –another commentator on Lesotho – refers to the factthat the BNP received 41,73 percent of the votes.Logically, it should only have received 41,73 per-cent of the parliamentary seats – instead it got51,66 percent.
The problem with the Fox proposition is that ithighlights only one aspect of reality. The BCP alsobenefited from the system – it managed to clinch39,84 percent of the votes, but received a 41,73percent representation in parliament. By contrast,
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BY MANDLA SELEOANELESOTHO
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the MFP won 16,25 percent of the votes, but onlygot 6,67 percent of the parliamentary seats.
Perhaps, had a different electoral system beenused, the BNP would not have had an overallmajority. Consequently, it would have been forcedinto coalition politics.
If we follow Fox’s formula, we run the risk of sug-gesting that something is wrong with the BNP, ratherthan with the electoral system. In other words, weinsinuate that the system helps benefit a certainparty, while being disadvantageous to others.
Once again, the 1970 elections were mainly acontest between the BNP and BCP, with the MFPbeing further marginalised. The BCP won 49,8 per-cent of the votes and received 36 seats, while theBNP clinched 42,2 percent of the votes and received23 seats. Leabua Jonathan nullified the elections,suspended the constitution and seized power.
The next attempt at elections was in 1985.However, Leabua changed the rules of the game –suddenly a candidate needed 500 nominees andhad to make a deposit of 1000 Maloti in order toparticipate in the elections. Other contenders boy-cotted the elections, and the BNP candidates weredeclared the uncontested winners of all 60 seats.
In 1986, there was a military coup and the nextelections took place in 1993. Although about 12political parties participated, the real contest wasonce again between the BNP and the BCP. By thetime of the elections, the constituencies hadincreased from 60 to 65. The BCP won 74,7 per-cent of the votes, and for that it managed to captureall 65 parliamentary seats. On the other hand, theBNP won over 22,6 percent of the electorate, butwent home empty-handed.
The next election was in 1998. Once again, thepolitical landscape changed somewhat prior to theelections. The parliamentary seats increased from65 to 80, and the BCP split in two – one partremained the BCP and the other became theLesotho Congress Democracy (LCD)4. No less than60 percent of the votes supported the LCD, whichtranslated into 79 of the 80 parliamentary seats.With 25 percent of the electoral support, the BNPgot only one parliamentary seat.
This resulted in a deep sense of injustice withregard to the way in which the electoral systemfunctioned – four months after the elections, thecountry went up in flames. Soldiers sympathetic tothe BNP refused to obey the LCD. Military inter-vention was sanctioned by the Southern AfricanDevelopment Community (SADC) in order torestore order. However, it was South Africa and
(to a lesser extent) Botswana that carried the bruntof the military intervention.
Peace was restored to Lesotho at a cost – 75lives were lost and regional relations suffered amajor blow. At a June seminar hosted by theInstitute for Global Dialogue, Southall mentionedthat the military intervention highlighted one cru-cial point – that taking on a bigger fightingmachine was pure folly!
In my view, this argument fails to take intoaccount factors such as national honour, and whatthe humiliation of defeat does to the prospects offuture relations. The argument ignores the fact thatwhen the disturbances began, Lesotho soldiersnever anticipated having to face the military mightof South Africa or Botswana.
It was a matter of national honour – once thateventuality materialised – to put up a fight. Thematter was no longer just between the LCD andBNP. As the Basotho argue, the king was not con-sulted when the LCD accepted foreign militaryassistance. Consequently, the honour of the king-dom was at stake.
I consider it a matter of common sense thateven today, if a similar situation should arise,Lesotho’s army would put up a fight. To expect any-thing else would go against the very logic of havinga defence force in the first place. If the ‘biggerfighting machine’ logic held, the USA-Iraq conflictwould not have happened; the onslaught of theallied forces on Yugoslavia would not have hap-pened; George Bush’s war on Afghanistan wouldnever have materialised; and the USA and Britainwould not be planning an attack on Iraq.
THE 2002 ELECTIONS The riots that followed the 1998 elections empha-sised the need to revisit Lesotho’s electoral system.The Interim Political Authority was given theresponsibility of devising a new electoral systemaimed at ensuring fresh elections were held within18 months.
Changing the electoral system
The new electoral system was a combination of thefirst-past-the-post system and proportional repre-sentation (some observers believe it was borrowedfrom Germany). It was decided that the parliamen-tary seats would be increased from 80 to 120. Of these seats, 80 would be contested at a constituency level (similar to the first-past-the-post system). The remaining 40 seats would be
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contested on a proportional representation basis.Voters would, therefore, cast two ballots onElection Day – one for the MP of their choice, anda second for the political party of their preference.
In practice, this would mean that for the first80 seats, its business as usual – the winner takesall. The factor is not the party, but the candidate. Ifa candidate wins 51 percent of the votes, the win-ner will represents both the 51 percent that votedfor him/her, as well as the 49 percent that did not.
The remaining 40 parliamentary seats will beallocated on a proportional basis, according to apredetermined formula and a previously priori-tised list of candidates. If a candidate, whoappears on the proportional representation list,has already won a constituency seat, he/she can-not be allocated a proportional representationseat – the seat would then go to the next candi-date on the list.
There was widespread speculation (and evenfear) that the voting system was too complex.However, on Election Day I spoke to a number ofvoters, and gained the impression that they did notfind the system confusing.
Depoliticising the army
If was just as necessary to depoliticise the army asit was to adjust the electoral system in order forparliamentary democracy to have a chance inLesotho. The army should always be an instrument
of the state – it should never function as a politicalparty. It must always protect the democratic systemof government, irrespective of which party formsthat government.
Consequently, prior to the 2002 elections, thearmy was sensitised to its social role according tothe precepts suggested above. This was done underthe auspices of the SADC and the Commonwealth.
Monitoring
The 1998 election results led to discontent, notonly because of the winner-takes-all electoral sys-tem, but also because they were rumoured to havebeen rigged. Southall and Fox argue that DeputyPresident Thabo Mbeki (as he then was) supportedthe idea of subjecting the conduct of the electionsto an investigation by a commission, probablybecause he did not believe they had been properlyconducted. The commission noted many irregular-ities. However, it was unclear whether or not theresult reflected the will of the electorate.Consequently, it was necessary to monitor the 2002elections very carefully. The voter registrationprocess; the transparent ballot boxes; the comput-erised analysis of election results; the effectivecommunication system between the centre ofanalysis and the constituencies; the voter educa-tion programme; and the presence of externalobservers – all these aspects formed part of anelaborate plan aimed at making the elections work.
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A woman displays heridentification card, as she waits in a line some80 kilometers east ofMaseru, to cast her votein Lesotho's parliamentary elections
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Campaigning in Lesotho
The absence of electioneering posters was notice-able while I was in Lesotho. Only BNP posterswere visible, even though 19 parties were compet-ing in the elections. A visitor joked that she wouldhave voted for the BNP if she could have. Her rea-soning was that the BNP was the only party thatcared to market itself. Therefore, it would probablybe the only party that would also care to marketLesotho, if it got the mandate to run the country.
However, many Basotho people that I spoke tosaw things a little differently. They argued that itcost money to produce electioneering posters – theBNP would have to explain to the nation where itgot the money from.
So, I persisted, how do the voters know who orwhat they are voting for? The answer is simple –the Basotho people do not have the tradition ofposter electioneering. If you have something to sayto them, you call a meeting; you drive around andgive them your message through a loudspeaker;you talk to them through the radio; you produceelection manifestos; or you pay someone a visit attheir home. In addition, every party has village,ward and district cells through which they commu-nicate their message.
However, I am told the Basotho people tend tostay with the party they support, irrespective of theissues at stake – unless something goes terriblywrong. Apparently, many Basotho people do notknow the full names of the BNP, BCP or LCD.However, they know the leaders of these parties.They know their history and what they stand for.This explains the court battle about which party hasthe right to use Ntsu Mokhehle’s head as a symbol.
Considering Lesotho boasts literacy figures upwardof 65 percent, I found all of these bits of informationfascinating. However, their system seems to beworking well enough without the nuisance of elec-tioneering posters. If I had any lingering misgivingsabout the wisdom of their approach, the outcome ofthe elections removed them – the party with theposters and resources did not carry the day.
I was also struck by how seriously the Basothopeople take their language – they insist on speak-ing Sesotho to people they know will not under-stand the language. I found it instructive,nevertheless, that all the election manifestos werewritten in Sesotho.
OUTCOME OF ELECTIONS The final election results were announced on 29 May 2002, and are summarised in Table 1.There were two failed elections. Consequently, thetable shows 118 seats in lieu of 120, and the per-centage column is two points less than 100.(SeeTable One).
The LCD gained 17 percent over its 1998electoral performance, thus sealing any debateabout the authenticity of its victory. It alsoquashed the theory that it gained its previous vic-tory by deploying ghost voters. Its closest rival –the BNP – went down by 2,6 percent, relative toits previous electoral performance.
Whilst the dominance of the LCD is beyondany question, the National Assembly is also morerepresentative, even leaving room for those whodidn’t draw as much as a full percentage of elec-toral support. It is now up to the people of Lesothoto make their government work for them.
LESOTHO
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CONCLUSION I have referred to a seminar – hosted by theInstitute for Global Dialogue – during which theLesotho elections were discussed. The seminarraised a number of questions regarding democracyin Africa. One of the issues discussed was theappropriateness of the Westminster form of govern-ment in Africa. Another topic of discussion waswhether or not political systems (and receivedopinion on democracy) should be altered in orderto accommodate ‘bad losers’.
These issues raise an important debate – politicalarrangements must remain a contested space, whatevername we give to them. The fact that certain opinionsare received, should not foreclose the contestation.
Political arrangements are (and always havebeen) relative in space and time. The Westminsterform of government was inserted into our politicalconsciousness at a particular historical moment.The fact that it acquired – at another historicalmoment – the status of conventional wisdom forsome, should not insulate it from criticism. As his-tory progresses, ‘established’ views are questionedand even replaced. As Southall suggests, theWestminster system of government is even beingadapted in Britain.
In the case of Lesotho, the system is, after all,part of the colonial legacy and should have beenquestioned much earlier. The adoption of a mixedelectoral system should not, therefore, be seen assuccumbing to ‘bad losers’. Similarly, the system ofproportional representation was not invented inAfrica. It rejects the winner-takes-all approach,
and insists on political parties being represented inratios that reflect their support on the ground.
Essentially, political systems were not designedby some deity from above. Consequently, we should be willing to critique them and, if they don’t work, make the necessary adaptations – withoutthe risk of being called ‘bad losers’. So, well done, Lesotho!
Party Number of Votes Percentage Votes Number of Seats
BACBCPBNPLCDLPCNIPNPPLWPMFPPFD
160951485812423430431632046303463985778868906330
2.92.722.454.85.85.50.75.91.21.1
332177551111
Totals 554386 98.6 118
Table One: Summary of Election Results
* Mandla Seleoane is a Research Specialist at the Democracyand Governance Human Sciences Research Council
1 Southall R and Petlane T (Eds.), 1995, Democratisation anddemilitarisation in Lesotho: the General Election of 1993 andits Aftermath, Africa Institute of South Africa. See also SouthallR and Fox R, Lesotho’s general election of 1998: rigged or derigueur? In "The Journal of Modern African Studies", 37, 4(1999); Southall R, Lesotho Set Fair to Good for May Election;and Business Day 23/05/2002, Tiny kingdom comes underscrutiny as it readies for election: Vote could cement stability inLesotho.
2 Basotho National Party and Basutuland Congress Partyrespectively.
3 Marema-Tlou Freedom Party.
4 Lesotho Congress for Democracy.
5 See Lesotho Congress for Democracy v Lesotho People’sCongress, Director of Elections and Attorney-General,CIV/APN/647/2001.
6 The breakaway group being Lesotho People’s Congress.
7 Basutoland African Congress.
ENDNOTEENDNOTE
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anzania’s democratic transition started in July1992, when it was formally legislated that thecountry would follow a multi-party system ofdemocracy. This came about after more than
30 years of one-party rule. In 1991, a small but very strong lobby emerged
and started pressuring the government to initiatedemocratic reforms. The government responded byestablishing a Presidential Commission in March1991. Under the chairmanship of Chief JusticeFrancis Nyalali, the commission was given theresponsibility of proposing appropriate politicalchanges – one of its recommendations was theadoption of a multi-party political system.
In January 1992, the National ExecutiveCommittee of the ruling party – the Chama chaMapinduzi (CCM) – endorsed the commission’s recommendations. In May of the same year, the
National Assembly enacted a law which legalisedmulti-party activities – the law came into effect inJuly 1992.
It is obvious that Tanzania’s democratic trans-formation has followed a guided transitional model.The main characteristic of this model is that thetransition is completely controlled by the regime inpower. This model is different from a national con-ference model, where a sovereign body (represent-ing broader national interests) is created to leadthe transition to democracy.
FROM DEMOCRATIC TRANSITIONTO DEMOCRATIC CONSOLIDATIONDemocratic transition and democratic consolidationare two sides of the same coin. Although the two con-cepts are interlinked, they involve very distinct
BY MOHAMMED OMAR MAUNDITANZANIA
the march towards democratic consolidation
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processes-while democratic transition is a short-termprocess, democratic consolidation is a long-term one.For example, it was an eventful step when Tanzaniareverted back to a multi-party political system in1992. Crucial as it was, the decision itself did notconstitute a meaningful democratic transition.
Time was needed to lay down the rules of partyformation, for conducting elections, and for estab-lishing the appropriate institutions which would beresponsible for supervising the electoral process.
The distinction between democratic transition anddemocratic consolidation helps us critically evaluateongoing democratic transformations. As a result, weare able to determine whether or not a country is reallymoving towards a meaningful democracy.
While the distinction between democratic transition and democratic consolidation helps usunderstand the short and long-term nature of democratic transformations, it is not always easy todetermine the exact time when one process endsand the other begins. For example, at what point isa country considered to be in a transitional phase? Is it when a multi-party system is formally
legalised, or is it only after the first or secondmulti-party elections?
According to Juan Linz and Alfred Stepan, ademocratic transition is complete when a democra-tic election is held that meets Robert Dahl’s seveninstitutional requirements for elections prescribedin his Polyarchy.
As for democratic consolidation, a country canbe said to have consolidated its democracy oncethe democratic structures have been institution-alised and formalised. Another indication of demo-cratic consolidation is when the major politicalactors have genuinely accepted the rules of thedemocratic game, and have applied them repeti-tively. This is in line with Juan Linz and AlfredStepan’s definition of consolidated democracy,which combines behavioural, attitudinal and con-stitutional dimensions.
From a behavioural point of view, democracybecomes consolidated when significant politicalgroups stop attempting to overthrow the democraticregime. From an attitudinal perspective, democ-racy becomes consolidated when the majority of
TANZANIA
Members of the honour guard cheer
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the people believe that any future political changemust emerge from within the parameters of thedemocratic processes.
From a constitutional viewpoint, democracybecomes consolidated when all political actorsbecome habituated to the fact that political conflictwithin the state will only be resolved according toestablished norms, and that violations of thesenorms are likely to be both ineffective and costly.
TANZANIA’S EXPERIENCETanzania is a united republic and consists of two dis-tinct entities: the Tanzania mainland and Zanzibar.Zanzibar is an autonomous entity with its own execu-tive, legislature and judiciary. The following analysiswill cover both the mainland and Zanzibar.
The democratic transition throughout Tanzaniabegan in 1992. The process was completed in1995, following the country’s first multi-party elec-tions. The process of democratic consolidationbegan immediately after the 1995 elections. A few
indicators follow, which demonstrate Tanzania’smarch toward democratic consolidation. First andforemost is the country’s respect for human rights.This is illustrated by including all the fundamentalfreedoms within the constitution, and by establish-ing the Human Rights Commission. A thrivingindependent media is testimony to a respect for thefreedom of expression.
No less than 15 political parties have regis-tered, and five others have applied for registration.The existence of these political parties is obviousevidence of respect for the freedom of association.The people of Tanzania are free to form and joinpolitical parties of their choice, which also indi-cates a move toward democratic consolidation.
The second multi-party elections (which wereheld in 2000) indicate that the country’s politicalsystem is maturing. The fourth indicator is the popular participation of the people within thepolitical process.
In the 1995 elections, a total of 13 political partiespresented 1,338 candidates who competed for the 232
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Supporters of Tanzania'sruling Chama ChaMapinduzi (CCM) partygreet their leader,President BenjaminMkapa, during the lastelection rally in Dar EsSalaam before the presidential elections
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parliamentary seats. A total of 8.9 million voters registered for those elections. More than 10 millionpeople registered to vote in the 2000 elections.
Mainstreaming gender is an important compo-nent of popular participation. Women constitute51% of the country’s population and their contribu-tion to the country’s economy is substantial. As aresult, their participation in political decision-making has become important. Democracyrequires the participation of men and women. Priorto the 1995 elections, constitutional provisions hadbeen made for at least 15% of the members of par-liament to be women. At least 25% of local govern-ment seats were reserved for women.
The 1995 elections saw 37 parliamentary seatsgo to women. The 15% representation wasincreased to 20% for the 2000 elections, whichtranslated into an extra five seats.
To a large extent, Tanzania has tried to respectelectoral principles, regulations and proceduresduring its general elections. These have includedrespecting the registration of voters, honouring
deadlines for collecting and returning candidateforms, respecting the campaign and voting period,and following procedures for counting votes andannouncing electoral results. As a result,Tanzania’s first two multi-party elections were con-sidered free and fair by both local and interna-tional observers.
While this was true for the mainland, the situa-tion was a bit different in Zanzibar. Both its 1995and 2000 elections were controversial. Their out-comes were not only contested by the major oppo-sition party, but were also viewed with skepticismby some local and international observers.Consequently, it is obvious that Zanzibar’s democ-ratic transition and consolidation started on ashaky foundation.
THE FUTURE CHALLENGESWhile Tanzania demonstrates a positive trendtowards democratic consolidation, there is muchroom for improvement. The first step is to
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People queue in front ofa polling-station in
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strengthen all political institutions. In terms ofstrength, there is a disparity between the rulingparty, the CCM and the opposition parties. Most ofthe opposition parties are new. As a result, theyhave had difficulty recruiting new members andpopularising party policies.
Leadership problems have also plagued manyof the new opposition parties. These parties are ledby people who have either lost favour with the rul-ing party, or have little experience leading politicalparties. A lot of time and resources are wasted indealing with administrative and leadership crises.
Opposition parties must address these weak-nesses if they wish to contribute positively.Competitive politics requires strong and wellorganised political parties. Weak opposition under-mines democratic consolidation in two ways.Firstly, it creates an environment in which theincumbent party continues ruling. Secondly, whilethe country may have adopted a multi-party sys-tem, the dominance of one party actually returnsthe country to a one-party political system.
The electoral process also needs to be strengthened. Weaknesses within the electoralcommissions need to be addressed. These institu-tions should be manned by competent people, andmust be independent. They also need to be pro-vided with adequate resources – in terms of man-power and finance – in order for them to performtheir duties efficiently.
Another challenge is to build internal democ-racy within the various political parties. Lack ofinternal democracy has been a major source ofinfighting within parties. This has led to leadershipcrises, and sometimes even physical violence.Consequently, lack of internal democracy obvi-ously undermines democratic consolidation.
Popular participation in the democratic processmust also be encouraged. This should occur at threedistinct levels. At one level, the majority of the peo-ple must be involved in civic education. Publicawareness campaigns must make people aware ofwhat democracy is all about. Voter education, forexample, is crucial to the electoral process.
Tanzania conducted voter education during the1995 and 2000 elections. This was carried out bythe Electoral Commissions and civil society orga-nizations. The media also played a positive role.However, the scope of the civic education was lim-ited. Firstly, it was confined to the election, insteadof a wider democratic spectrum. Secondly, all the institutions involved were faced with limitedresources. Consequently, they confined their
activities to a few geographical areas, and wereonly able to use a few instruments, such as theradio and printed pamphlets.
At the second level, people must be encour-aged to contest for various electoral posts. Thisconsolidates democracy in two ways. Firstly, it cre-ates a political culture of involvement. Without thisculture, multi-party democracy would remain acompetition between a few very experienced andclever politicians. Secondly, it allows many peopleto influence decisions that may affect their day-to-day lives.
In the 1995 and 2000 elections, only four of the13 registered parties put candidates forward for thepresidential race. While there is no law inTanzania that forces a political party to participatein an election, one would have expected many par-ties to have run for the presidency – if not to win,then just for the experience.
A total of 1,338 candidates competed for 232parliamentary in the 1995 elections. Only 701 can-didates competed for the same number of seats inthe 2000 elections. The decrease is obviously asign of less participation.
At the third level, people must register and voteduring elections. Voting is one of the cardinal pil-lars of the multi-party political system. It is the vot-ing process that decides the winner, and the winneris based on the majority of votes. Consequently,each vote is vital.
Of an estimated 11 million voters in the 1995elections, less then 10 million actually registered.While the number of registered voters increased to10 million during the 2000 elections, only sevenmillion voted. Although more than 70% of registered voters did vote, the 30% who did not represent a negative trend towards democratic consolidation.
In conclusion, Tanzania needs to bring socio-economic development to its people. Thecountry’s democratic process must ensure that thepolitical leadership is viewed as legitimate. Withinthe political and economic processes, the socio-economic well-being of the majority must bea top priority. If this does not happen, democratic consolidation will be unattainable, and the democ-ratic process as a whole will be meaningless.
* Mohammed Omar Maundi is the Director for the TanzaniaCentre for Foreign Affairs.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TANZANIA
he concept of cooperative security is not anew one. Its origins date back to 1815, withthe Concert of Europe. By the end of theCold War, it had assumed wider popularity,
and had been applied to many different insecurityand instability problems throughout the world. Yetcooperative security means different things to dif-ferent people – from the traditional interpretationof collective security and defence, to the morerecent definition of individual security (humansecurity) and stability promotion within a newworld order.
Since the end of the Cold War, the shift from astate and elite-focused view of security, to one thatplaces individuals at the centre of the securityequation, has gained increasing acceptance withinAfrica. While protecting the state and its citizens
from external aggression remains a consideration,the most serious threats facing African countriesare from internal, transnational or collectivecauses. To many Africans, a safe and secure envi-ronment is a necessary condition for sustainable,poverty-reducing development.
This broader conception of security under-scores the importance of cooperative security inAfrica. However, despite the popularity of thistrend in international security, cooperative securitydeserves a more nuanced analysis – one that wouldbring out regional dimensions and common charac-teristics in order to be relevant to the security con-cerns of the African continent.
This presentation will attempt to develop aframework for cooperative security within Africa. Itwill look at Africa’s record during the post-Cold
A tall task for the African
Union Peace and Security Council
BY J. ‘KAYODE FAYEMISECURITY
48
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War decade, the context of regional cooperation,and the challenges that face regional securitycooperation. It will study cooperative security inWest Africa, and will also offer some recommenda-tions for cooperative security in Africa.
CONTEXT OF REGIONAL SECURITYCOOPERATION IN THE LATE 1980SWhile regionalism is not a new concept in Africa, anumber of factors promoted its virtues during thelate 1980s and early 1990s. The 1990s definitelyredefined the nature of both politics and conflict.• Shifts in global and geo-political power relations
– particularly at the end of the Cold War – aswell as the retraction of the imperial securityumbrella, allowed former client regimes to bechallenged in ways unimaginable in the past.
• The retreat of the superpowers placed greaterprominence on the role of, and competitionbetween, regional powers.
• Conflicting parties – including both govern-ments and rebel groups – who were previouslysupported by superpowers, had to turn to newsources of funding. The exploitation of naturalresources and criminal activity (for example,drugs), provided much needed funding, andalso made these parties less amenable to exter-nal pressure.
• New forms of political consciousness and identity – often structured around religionand ethnicity – replaced the ‘universalistic’debates between ‘capitalism’ and ‘socialism’which had underpinned the Cold War. This rein-forced the erosion of common citizenship, whichhad been fostered by state contraction. Theresult was popular disillusionment with politics.
• Erosion of the institutional capacity of the aver-age African state – the most profound aspect ofwhich was the decomposition of security appa-ratuses – has also seriously affected security.
• African states were subjected to multiplesources of pressure, which eroded their sover-eignty. Those sources worth mentioninginclude the co-option of crucial areas of policyinitiative by the IFIs and a variety of donoragencies, the activation of civil society; andthe increasing power and resources controlledby the non-governmental sector.
• Loss of state centrality, due to the contracting ofresources and essential services, also affectedstates’ ability to act as the centre for social cohesion.
• There were many other sources of pressure,including an increased availability and privati-sation of instruments of violence; massiveretrenchment; and a growing surplus of militaryassets globally. Simultaneously, there was abreakdown in supply-and-demand controls on global arms markets. On the African continent, decommissioned weaponry started tobe recycled as most of the wars of the 1980swound down.
• Slowly, new forms of violent national andtransnational crime started to emerge.
AN AFRICAN BALANCE SHEET FORTHE 1990S DECADE • Democratic transition in Africa has produced a
medley of results, ranging from consolida-ting democracies (South Africa, Botswana,Benin, Mauritius, Ghana, Senegal, Mali andMozambique), to a variety of ‘semi’, ‘liberal’,‘virtual’ and ‘lapsing’ democracies (Kenya,Nigeria, Niger, Zimbabwe and Malawi). The1990s also produced authoritarian and/or mili-tarised states (Cote d’Ivoire, Togo, Uganda andSudan,) as well as conflicted societies (Liberia,Guinea, Guinea Bissau, Rwanda, Burundi andSierra Leone).
• While the economic situation remains fragile,overall economic performance in Africa has marginally improved since the 1980s.Regionalism has become more entrenched - thelaunch of the African Union (AU), and the intro-duction of the New Partnership for Africa’sDevelopment (NEPAD) are evidence of this shift.Regional and sub-regional conflict managementmechanisms have been put in place, as Africansstrive to develop an autonomous capacity aimedat handling their own conflicts (West Africa is apioneer in the field).
• In spite of some international assistance,Africans are increasingly at the centre of anemerging geo-political reality involving theAfrican Crisis Response Initiative (ACRI), theReinforcement of African Peacekeeping(RECAMP) and other supporting initiatives.The Accord on Non-Aggression and De-fence (ANAD) merger with the EconomicCommunity of West African States (ECOWAS) isan indication of the need to harmonise confusing and duplicating mechanisms.In addi-tion, the sense of an Anglo-French rivalry inWest Africa seems to be disappearing, as is the
51
perception of a Franco-Nigerian rivalry. Thereare still some governments and actors who arekeen to promote these ‘divisions’, although evi-dence in trade and security suggests otherwise.However, the perception of regional hegemonydoes still persist, with Nigeria and South Africaoften put in a ‘hegemonic’ box.
• There is now widespread acceptance of the needto re-conceptualise the idea of ‘security’. Weneed to move away from the traditional empha-sis on national/state security and focus on‘human security’. This new definition needs toinclude aspects such as access to a means oflife; the provision of essential goods; the provi-sion of a clean and sustainable environment;and a respect for human rights and democraticfreedoms. A key aspect of this revised definitionis the increasing link drawn between securityand development – on the one hand, identifyinginsecurity within conditions of under-development; and on the other hand, recognis-ing that security is an essential component ofdevelopment.
CHALLENGES TO REGIONALCOOPERATIVE SECURITY IN AFRICA
• Legacy of Westphalian notions of state sover-eignty;
• Regionalism without common values;• Notions of hegemonic regionalism;• Regionalism as leaderism, in which regional
integration is only occurring at a leadershiplevel, without permeating through to the con-sciousness of the people;
• Regionalism as formalism, in which a widearray of institutions have been created with littleor no capacity to manage them;
• Regionalism as an externally driven (not a peo-ple driven) project.
INSTITUTIONALISING REGIONALCOOPERATIVE SECURITY: THEWEST AFRICAN EXAMPLE
It can be reasonably argued that in West Africa,ECOWAS represents the best example of an organi-sation involved in institutionalising cooperativesecurity. Established in 1975, its aim has alwaysbeen to promote cooperation and development in all
fields of economic activity. ECOWAS entered intocooperative security in 1990, when it went intoLiberia to restore peace. Although a MutualAssistance in Defence Protocol was signed in 1981,ECOWAS’ first foray into the collective securityarena was only in 1990. That first mission sufferedfrom a lack of clarity over mandate, political acceptance, composition, military capability andaccountability. All these factors affected what wasotherwise a well-intentioned regional project, withlittle or no backing from the international commu-nity. Although the mission was put together rathercapriciously, it did enable ECOWAS to pursue aninstitutional framework for cooperative security.
ECOWAS drew strong lessons from its experi-ences in Liberia and Sierra Leone, and it decidedto institutionalise a conflict mechanism within theregional economic community. A raft of agreements– the ECOWAS Revised Treaty of 1993; theProtocol relating to the Mechanism for Conflict Prevention, Management, Resolution,Peacekeeping and Security of 1999; and theSupplementary Protocol on Democracy and GoodGovernance of 2002 – all demonstrate the fact thata great deal of local thinking is propelling the insti-tutionalisation of a collective security architecturewithin West Africa.
In spite of the changes that have occurred, andthe structures that have been put in place, theproduct is still a long way from being perfected. IfECOWAS’ goals are achieved, it is possible forcooperative security to take a much firmer root inWest Africa. In terms of institutions, ECOWASestablished several organs and strategies, all withdefined responsibilities aimed at addressing peaceand security issues within the sub-region. Themost critical institutions include:• The Mediation and Security Council: this coun-
cil operates at the level of heads of state andgovernment, and ministers and ambassadors. Ithas been charged with the responsibility ofmaking decisions that could have an impact onpeace and security (including authorising thedeployment of missions);
• The Defence and Security Commission: this com-mission is made up of defence chiefs and securityofficials who have been charged with dealingwith the technicalities of military intervention;
• The Economic Community of West African StatesMonitoring Group (ECOMOG): this multi-pur-pose, stand-by force is ready for immediatedeployment. ECOMOG is described as multi-pur-pose, in the sense that it can assume one of
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several functions – observation, monitoring orpeacekeeping. More significantly, it can bedeployed for humanitarian intervention, or for theenforcement of sanctions. It can also undertakepolicing activities aimed at controlling fraudand/or organised crime.
• An early warning system – in the form of aregional observation network – has also beencreated. Established within the Secretariat (aswell as four zones within the community), thesystem is charged with collecting economic,political, security and social data. The data isthen analysed, in the hope that any potentialconflicts are detected. If any conflicts are iden-tified, region-wide conflict prevention strategiesare then mobilised.
• A Council of Elders was also proposed in orderto create a traditional conflict resolution mecha-nism. The council is made up of 32 eminentindividuals drawn from both within and outsideof the region, and it is convened wheneverrequired by the Executive Secretariat.
As Figure 1 explains, the Executive Secretariatplays a central role in ensuring that the conflictmechanism functions adequately. As stated above,the Executive Secretariat is able to deploy theCouncil of Elders at any time. It also recently cre-ated the office of Political Affairs, Defence andSecurity (PADS), which is primarily charged withthe implementation of the mechanism. It also super-vises the early warning operations and zonal obser-vation centres. In addition, it services the defenceand security commissions, is involved in the imple-mentation of all peacekeeping and humanitarianoperations, and assists with policy formation.
The mechanism and its SupplementaryProtocol on Democracy and Good Governance alsotake a broader view of security, stressing theimportance of human security and democratic gov-ernance within the security sector. The protocolalso covers institutional capacity-building withinthe community, in order to provide humanitarianassistance to conflict or disaster areas. In addition,it provides a framework for action by the commu-nity in the critical area of peace-building.
While ECOWAS provides a good cooperativesecurity mechanism, it remains a work in progress.Indeed, the community demonstrates commitmentto revising and improving the document based on new information. For example, it is now considering involving the ECOWAS parliament inthe implementation of the mechanism and itsSupplementary Protocol on Good Governance and
Democracy. As it stands now, the system clearlysuffers from a ‘huge dose of democratic deficit’,since parliamentarians are the only direct repre-sentatives of the citizens within the community.However, history shows us that the powers oftransnational parliaments evolve gradually (both inscope and power), from being largely consultativeassemblies to genuine decision-making legisla-tures. Circumstances dictate these inevitable tran-sitions. To date, the performance of the parliamentgives the impression that its powers will certainlygrow in consonance with the quality of representa-tion within parliament.
However, there are problems of hegemonicregionalism, leaderism, formalism and donor-dri-ven institutionalisation. Many of the institutionscreated by the Mechanism for Conflict Prevention,Management, Resolution, Peacekeeping andSecurity, owe their survival not only to the financialcommitment of member states, but also to the gen-erosity of external parties, such as the EuropeanUnion (EU), the United States and a number ofNordic countries. This obviously raises the funda-mental question of accountability and strategicinterest, particularly when those interests conflict.However, various attempts are being made toaddress this problem. Sadly, none to date haveproved to be successful in getting states to meettheir assessed contributions and obligations to thecommunity. This worsens the prospects for hege-monic regionalism, as Nigeria continues to under-write the organisation’s expenses.
A more critical problem with the ECOWASframework is the lack of agreement on a commonunderstanding of security and stability. Althoughthe protocols referred to above were signed withfanfare by most heads of government, nation-build-ing peculiarities make it difficult for member statesto exhibit a shared understanding of a commonfuture. Since regional collective security refers tovalues, interests and norms that transcend the mil-itary element of security, the challenge is how toframe protocols and principles aimed at emphasis-ing the preventive element of conflict management,rather than emphasising conflict management and resolution. ECOWAS is doing this at theSecretariat level. However, political will still seemsto be lacking on the part of member states.
Despite the progress described above, a senseof disillusionment still exists throughout West Africa. Indeed, unfortunate recent events in Cote d’Ivoire seem to be promoting the view that despotic peace may be better than unruly
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democratic freedom. Indeed, some see interna-tional politics in the aftermath of September 11th,as aiding this view. Consequently, it is importantfor the US and other international actors to be clearabout the message that is being promoted. It wouldbe sad if there was widespread acceptance of theview that despotic peace is better than problematicdemocratic freedom. The fact that ECOWAS hasnot been quick off the mark in responding to theIvorien crisis, underscores the need for a frame-work that goes beyond the creation of institutionsand structures - it must possess the capacity andcredibility required in order to provide humanitar-ian intervention and the restoration of order.
TOWARDS A FRAMEWORK FORREGIONAL SECURITYCOOPERATION:RECOMMENDATIONSAlthough West Africa’s experience demonstratesthat cooperative security is possible, the futuresuccess of cooperative security depends on the promotion of human security. It also dependson developmental regionalism - the closer the tiesbetween states within the socio-economic spheres,the more they will find ways to further their secu-rity cooperatively.
Consequently, given the context of regionalismas described above, as well as the challenges thatface cooperative security in Africa, a number offactors are central to the success of cooperativesecurity. They include, but are not necessarily lim-ited to the following key elements:• Understanding the nature of the post-colonial
state, as well as nation-building prospects inAfrica;
• Subscription to and institutionalisation of coreregional values and norms;
• Focusing on open government, the deepening ofdemocratic institutions, and the prevention ofviolent conflicts through political processes;
• Promoting long-term conditions for security anddevelopment by using human security as abedrock for peace;
• Developing an integrated peace-buildingapproach to human security. This can beachieved by promoting governmental and non-governmental approaches, and by treatingpeacekeeping, peacemaking and post-conflicttransformation along a continuum;
• Entrenching democratic governance by estab-lishing a clear role definition for security ser-vices, whilst at the same time, enhancing theprofessionalism of this sector;
• Building the capacity of African institutions forearly warning, and enhancing their capacity toprevent, manage and resolve conflicts;
• Strengthening developmental regionalism as ameans of addressing the negative aspects ofglobalisation;
• Establishing the parameters of genuine continentaland global partnership – this would include roleclarification between sub-regional bodies, theAfrican Union and the United Nations.
Whilst it is difficult to be prescriptive about theframework for security cooperation, it is gratifyingto note that most of what has been stated here hasbeen fully reflected as key responsibilities of thenew African Union Peace and Security Council,which was approved at the African Union Summitin Durban.
The challenge is to achieve and promote thevalues of ownership, participation, open and trans-parency accountability, fundamental freedoms andthe rule of law. The overriding importance ofresponsible politics and responsive leadership isevident from the above. Until we get both, the bestthat can be hoped for remains hegemonic regionalism, which may keep the peace, but hardlypromotes underlying values of security.
53
* J. ‘Kayode Fayemi is the Executive Director at the Centre forDemocracy & Development
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SECURITTY
A little Guinean girl andher mother in a lorry inSeguela, wait to leave theIvory Coast to return toGuinea. Despite ongoingnegociations between thegovernment and therebels, more and more foreign workers arereturning to their countriesto avoid the conflict
PHILIPPE D
ESMA
ZES/A
FP
TRENDS
54
he United Nations Mission to the DemocraticRepublic of Congo: Consolidating the Era of Partnership
It is but a memory that a stately NelsonMandela and his then deputy, Thabo Mbeki,descended on Kinshasa to attempt the impossible– facilitating talks between President Mobutu andLaurent Kabila of the Alliance Forces for theLiberation of Congo-Zaire (ADFL) on the future ofthe DRC. As it would happen, the meeting nevermaterialised, and soon afterwards Kinshasa saw along awaited change in leadership, and the depar-ture of President Mobutu.
In the period from that time up until eighteenmonths ago, many efforts were made at facilitatingdialogue between the various parties and theirbackers to wrestle with the political challenges ofstabilizing that country. A record number of bilat-eral and multi-lateral approaches were employedto assist parties to conclude agreements for apeaceful DRC.
Subsequent to the Lusaka accord, the UnitedNations then deployed a military observer mission inthe country to assist parties in the implementation ofthe agreements. The UN mission has thus far beensuccessful in maintaining the cardinal principles ofneutrality and impartiality, against a volatile back-drop. It is appropriate to highlight that at inception,expectations for the mission were very low, consider-ing the challenges posed by major political issueswell outside the scope of the mandate.
Due to the demands placed on the UN by theLusaka agreement, it was difficult to imagine anymeasure of speedy progress in the peace process.Amongst these were the near-impossible identifi-cation and repatriation of so-called negative forcesfrom the country. The parties to the conflict havemostly shared the burden of responsibility forimplementing both the Lusaka agreement and
other agreements they have entered into.These victories could not have been
recorded without the support of partnershipsbetween the international community and sub-regional role players. From the partial agree-ment of the Inter-Congolese Dialogue, to thevaried political agreements in various capitalsof the sub-region, the UN has been well sup-ported in its response to the political andhumanitarian issues in the country.
As the DRC has not yet arrived at its desireddestination, much study is required of lessonslearned from the standing and ad-hoc mechanismsthat, as part of this peace process, have informedprogress – such as the Joint Military Commission,the Political Commission and others. Key has beenthe decision of the Pretoria Agreement to form averification body to assist parties to keep theirpromises. The chair country of the African Union,South Africa, and the United Nations have thusformed the Third Party Verification Mechanism(TPVM) that has liaised with the parties on issuesdriving the agreement.
In the face of mustering a complex response tothe political challenges in the country, the UN hashad to increase its humanitarian response. The UNhas served as a rallying point of the internationalcommunity in responding to food shortages, dis-placed people and refugees, and the plight of chil-dren affected by the conflict.
The challenge, indeed responsibility, is toinstitutionalise these progressive responses. Theexperiences of the major intervening players in theDRC could be considered as having the possibilityto shape the response to conflicts everywhere. Itwould appear that the belief and pursuit of Africansolutions to African challenges is finally gaining afoothold as African states begin to work towardsconstructive ways of ending their conflicts.
T
he attempted military coup in the IvoryCoast could not have come at a worse time. Itcame at a moment in Africa’s history whenthe political leadership was committed to
transforming the continent’s negative image. Theattempted coup was totally unexpected. Or was it?
The underlying problems that caused theattempted coup in December 1999, were neveraddressed properly. This does not imply that therebels had legitimate reasons for resorting to arms;yet, it is useful to remind ourselves that the periodfrom 1999 to the time that the coup occurred wasnot a stable one. The Ivorians went to the polls on22 October 2000. General Guei (who was killedimmediately after the coup was announced)and Laurent Gbagbo (who is the current president)were the leading contenders. The 2000 poll was marred by confusion, which only added topolitical tensions. Early poll results, which wereannounced by the Electoral Commission, showedGbagbo was in the lead. However, just a few daysafter the poll, the head of the Electoral Commissionwas held hostage by an armed group. Soon there-after, General Guei announced to the nation that hewas the new president. In response, Gbagbo gal-vanised his supporters in order to oppose the move.Clashes occurred between the army and civilians,and General Guei decided to leave Abidjan. Soonthereafter, Gbagbo declared himself president.
In October 2001 – almost a year after the polls –a National Reconciliation Forum was held inAbidjan to find ways of easing the country’s politicaltensions. The forum produced 14 solid recommen-dations on how the country could move forward. Itwas followed up with a meeting between the coun-try’s four main political players: President Gbagbo,Alassane Outtara (who was denied an opportunity to
stand for elections because of his alleged Burkinabecitizenship), Henri Konan Bedie and Robert Guei.The meeting sought to build bridges between theseleaders, and was also aimed at taking the forum’sresolutions a step further. The meeting was a dismalfailure. Since then, any attempt to restore relationsbetween these leading figures has been to no avail.
Perhaps, a question we should ask is what arethe roles and responsibilities of political leadersduring a crisis situation? In the case of the IvoryCoast, could an escalation of tensions have beenavoided if the leadership had behaved in anacceptable manner? What would have been theresponsible political action, on the part of the vari-ous politicians, during and immediately after theelections? An honest appraisal would tell us that,at a very crucial point in the country’s history, thepolitical leadership failed to act responsibly.
However, every dark cloud has a silver lining.In this case, the good news is the professional man-ner in which the Economic Community of WestAfrican States (ECOWAS) responded to the con-flict. ECOWAS negotiators were on the scenewithin days, and they immediately shifted the focusaway from armed confrontation. At the time ofgoing to press, a comprehensive agreement had notyet been reached between the government andrebels. One can only hope that this time all politi-cians will be able to face up to the situation and laythe foundation for a sustainable peace.
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* Senzo Ngubane is currently a Senior Researcher at ACCORD.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
T
The Ivory Coast
on the African century?
he scourge of armed conflicts has been thebane of humanity from time immemorial. Inrecent years, however, the intensity and scopeof these conflicts have increased exponen-
tially. Part of the reason for this lies in the ending ofthe Cold War – freed from the confines of globalbipolarity, armed conflicts have moved beyond theideological realm. They now include the spheres ofethnocentric nationalism, religious fundamental-ism, border wars and narco-trafficking. This hasmade it harder for academics to analyse conflicts,and more difficult for policy-makers to resolvethem. Other reasons for the preponderance ofarmed conflict include the availability of sophisti-cated arms and the fragility of state structures.
Consequently, this is a timely book which exam-ines crucial issues related to the management ofconflicts within various regions throughout theworld. Through examining lessons learned bymeans of the comparative method, we could arriveat some generic ‘best practices’. This is somethingthe book succeeds admirably in doing. Anotherpositive feature of the book is the number of youngauthors who have been gathered by the authors.Together, they contribute a number of novelapproaches to the field of conflict management.One approach casts doubt on the traditional distinc-tion between ‘war’ and ‘peace’. In this regard, DavidKeen’s contribution is quite useful. He argues thatthe emergence of peace can be a violent process. Inturn, this violence, which is embodied in peace,may help to account for mass violence or civil war.Within the African context, this is a particularlypoignant reason why Africa has suffered so muchfrom the phenomenon of ‘return conflicts’. For prac-titioners, the lesson is clear: a peace agreementdoes not guarantee one peace. For this reason, theinternational community should remain engaged in
post-conflict reconstruction long after the signing ofany peace agreement.
The various chapters on the changing role of UNpeacekeeping also emphasise that there has been aradical shift in the UN’s position regarding the useof force. Various contributors point to intrusive mil-itary enforcement actions, as well as the use of pre-ventive deployment of peacekeepers. Macedonia isa good example of the aforementioned shift. This, inturn, raises questions over the sovereignty and non-interference in the affairs of member states – apoint often reinforced by Africa’s leadership. This issomething which both the African Union (AU) andvarious sub-regional organisations may need to dis-cuss further.
In their contribution to this volume, AliodunAlao and Funmi Olonisakin argue that the relation-ship between natural resources and conflict is notsimply one-dimensional. Rather, they maintain thatwar economies occur within the context of state col-lapse. Once again, this approach casts doubt onwhether or not embargoes on blood diamonds - or‘naming and shaming’ - actually do work, since theydeal largely with the symptoms of a deeper prob-lem. Consequently, rebuilding states and theirauthority – as opposed to their power – is central inorder to come to terms with this vexing problem.
Other chapters in this book cover issues such astruth commissions and the quest for justice; civil-military relations and the protection of civilians; therole and utility of private security companies inconflict management; the rise and fall of UN peace-keeping in Africa; the need for greater burden-shar-ing within the NATO alliance; and the travails ofkeeping peace in nuclear South Asia.
This book is a must-read for scholar and practi-tioner, and combines penetrating analysis with alucid writing style.
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Adekeye Adebajo and Chandra Lekha Sriram (eds.)
Managing Armed Conflicts in the Twenty-First Century.
Frank Cass Publishers. London. 2001. ISBN 0714650943
