New Security Threats and Crises in Africa: Regional and International Perspectives

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New Security Threats and Crises in Africa

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New Security Threats and Crises in Africa Regional and International Perspectives

Edited by Jack Mangala

new security threats and crises in africa Copyright © Jack Mangala, 2010. All rights reserved. First published in 2010 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN® in the United States - a division of St. Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Where this book is distributed in the UK, Europe and the rest of the World, this is by Palgrave Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS. Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies and has companies and representatives throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries. ISBN: 978–0–230–10796–0 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data New security threats and crises in Africa : regional and international perspectives / edited by Jack Mangala. p. cm. ISBN 978–0–230–10796–0 (alk. paper) 1. Security, International—Africa. 2. National security—Africa. 3. Africa—Politics and government—21st century. I. Mangala, Jack, 1965– JZ6009.A36N49 2010 355 .03306—dc22 2010022023 Design by Integra Software Services First edition: December 2010 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Printed in the United States of America.

Contents

List of Tables and Figure

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Preface

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Acknowledgments

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List of Contributors

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List of Acronyms and Abbreviations

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Introduction: Evolving Security Discourse and Crises in Africa: Conceptual, Policy, and Practical Relevance

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Jack Mangala

Part I New Security Threats: African and International Perspectives 1 The African Union and Security in Africa

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Jamila El Abdellaoui

2 Refugees and Internally Displaced Persons: From Humanitarian to Security Paradigm

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Jack Mangala

3 Africa’s Responses to International Terrorism and the War against It

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Abdul Karim Bangura and Billie D. Tate

4 Climate Change and the Risk of Conflict in Africa

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Oli Brown and Alec Crawford

5 Securing Africa’s Food Security: Current Constraints and Future Options

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Daniel D. Karanja

6 Confronting Africa’s Health Challenges Jeremy Youde

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Contents

Part II The International Community and African Crises 7 Darfur and the International Community: Self-determination, State building, and “The Responsibility to Protect”

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M.A. Mohamed Salih

8 The International Community and Congo’s Recent Crises

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John F. Clark

9 International Organizations and Civil Wars in Africa: The Liberian Case

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George Klay Kieh, Jr.

10 International Actors and Côte d’Ivoire’s Political and Economic Crises

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Abdul Karim Bangura

11 A Crisis with an Origin: Proposing a Framework for Local and International Engagement in Zimbabwe

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Mambo G. Mupepi

Index

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List of Tables and Figure

Tables 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 8.1

Africa’s religion statistics Terrorist activities in Africa Paired samples test, paired differences Paired samples correlations Authorization of military and police personnel to MONUC

62 63 65 65 174

Figure 10.1 Diagrammatic representation of primary agents in the issue of child slavery

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Preface

This volume represents the outcome of the conference on “Africa in Contemporary International Relations” that I convened at Grand Valley State University in the fall of 2010 with the support of the African and African American Studies Program and International Relations Program. The objectives of the conference were, among other things, to reflect on the conceptual, policy, and practical implications of the evolving security discourse on Africa’s international relations and to discuss how the international community has approached and attempted to mitigate some of the most important African crises of the past decade within the parameters of the new security discourse. I am most grateful to all the colleagues who have agreed to join me in this scholarly endeavor and whose insights and reflections have resulted in excellent contributions to this volume, which represents an attempt to frame the evolving security paradigm from an African perspective. I am particularly thankful to Drs. Abdul Karim Bangura and George Klay Kieh, Jr. with whom I had shared my earlier cogitations about this project and whose intellectual and brotherly support has been instrumental in bringing it to fruition. Thanks are also expressed to Grand Valley State University’s administration for providing the financial and logistic support for the organization of the conference. I have also received extraordinary editorial support from Palgrave Macmillan to bring this volume into being. Special thanks to Chris Chappell. He has been a gracious and wonderful editor who supported this project from the start and whose craft has been a key asset in moving it forward. I am also grateful to Sarah Whalen, who has played an invaluable supporting role in ensuring the manuscript’s compliance with Palgrave Macmillan’s publishing standards. Bringing this project to completion would not have been possible without the help of Robyn Gordon, my assistant editor. Her mastery of the technicalities of editing has allowed me to mostly focus on content-related issues in providing intellectual coherence to the whole volume. I truly enjoyed our

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division of labor and wish her all the best as she graduates from Grand Valley State University. The long, interminable, and solitary hours spent in editing the volume were, at times, hard on my children, Alex and Maya, who didn’t always understand why Daddy’s “homework” was taking so long to complete, but they never let me down. Their candor has been a constant inspiration along the way. Last but not least, Elena, my wife, has been my strongest supporter throughout this project. Thank you. Jack Mangala Ottawa, May 2010

Acknowledgments

The International Institute for Sustainable Development (IISD) granted permission to include an adapted version of the IISSD paper “Climate Change and Security in Africa: A Study for the Nordic-African Foreign Ministers Meeting” authored by Oli Brown and Alec Crawford in 2009. It appears as Chapter 4 of this volume under the title “Climate Change and the Risk of Conflict in Africa.” I am grateful to IISD for the permission. Cover photo: thousands of people flee the internally displaced persons (IDPs) site at Kibati, in Democratic Republic of the Congo’s North Kivu province, after hearing gunfire. The photo is part of UNHCR Photo Galleries. Credit: UNHCR/P. Taggart.



Abdul Karim Bangura is professor of research methodology and political science at Howard University and researcher-in-residence on Abrahamic Connections at the Center for Global Peace at American University in Washington, D.C. He holds a PhD in political science, a PhD in development economics, a PhD in linguistics, and a PhD in computer science. He is the author of 61 books and more than 500 scholarly articles. He is the winner of numerous teaching and other scholarly and community service awards. He is a member of many scholarly organizations and a former president and then United Nations ambassador of the Association of Third World Studies. He is fluent in a dozen African and six European languages, and is studying to strengthen his proficiency in Arabic, Hebrew, and Hieroglyphics. Oli Brown is a program manager and senior researcher for the International Institute for Sustainable Development (IISD)’s Trade and Investment, and Security Programs in Geneva. He also coordinates the Trade Knowledge Network—a network of developing country research organizations working on the ways in which trade and investment policies can promote and enable sustainable development. His main areas of interest lie in conflict prevention, peacebuilding, environmental management, and trade policy. He has worked on the UNDP’s Human Development report and completed consultancies for the International Organization for Migration and International Alert. In addition, he has written on a wide range of trade, environment, and sustainable development issues. John F. Clark is professor in the Department of Politics and International Relations at Florida International University (Miami). He was chairperson of the Department of International Relations at FIU from August 2002 to December 2008. He specializes in the state-society relations of African polities and the international relations of sub-Saharan Africa. He is coeditor of Political Reform in Francophone Africa (1997), editor of The African Stakes of the Congo War (2002), and author of The Failure of Democracy in the Republic of Congo (2008). He has also published some 35 articles and book chapters,

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including articles in African Affairs, the Journal of Democracy, the Journal of Modern African Studies, Comparative Studies in Society and History, and the Africa Spectrum. During the 1999–2000 academic year he was a Fulbright lecturer and research scholar at Makerere University in Kampala, Uganda, and he has made five research trips to the Republic of Congo and the Democratic Republic of Congo since 1990. Alec Crawford is a project manager with the Security and Climate Change teams of the International Institute for Sustainable Development (IISD)’s Geneva office. Since joining IISD in 2004, his work has focused on examining the links between environmental change, natural resources, conflict, and peacebuilding. His most recent work has involved field research on the links between climate change and the risk of violent conflict in the Middle East and Africa, as well as research and training on conflict-sensitive conservation in East and Central Africa. Before joining IISD, Alec worked in corporate finance for a Toronto-based technology firm. He has widely published on the security implications of climate change. Jamila El Abdellaoui is a senior researcher with the African Conflict Prevention Programme at the Institute for Security Studies (ISS) in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Prior to joining the ISS, Ms. El Abdellaoui worked for the African Centre for the Constructive Resolution of Disputes (ACCORD) as a programme officer and senior department officer at the ACCORD’s offices in Burundi and South Africa, respectively. Ms. El Abdellaoui’s current research concentrates on conflict dynamics in the Great Lakes and Horn of Africa regions as well as conflict prevention and mediation in general. She also focuses on the African Union’s capacity to prevent, manage, and resolve conflict on the continent and is the coeditor of the forthcoming monograph on The AU Peace and Security Council: A Five Year Appraisal (2004–2009) (ISS 2010). She also coedited a monograph on Regional Security in the Post-Cold War Horn of Africa (ISS 2010). Daniel D. Karanja is a senior fellow with the Partnership to Cut Hunger and Poverty in Africa, a research-based advocacy organization focused on increasing the level and effectiveness of U.S. development assistance and investments in Africa’s agriculture and rural development. Dr. Karanja is the Partnership’s cochair of the Working Group on Capacity Building in Science and Technology and leads the Partnership outreach to African institutions and Washington-based African ambassadors to the United States. He is a member of the USDA’s Borlaug Leadership Enhancement in Agriculture Program Selection Committee and board member of Iowa State University’s Center for Sustainable Rural Livelihoods. He worked as an agricultural


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economist for more than 15 years with the Kenya Agricultural Research Institute (KARI). He has written many policy briefs, journal articles, and book chapters, and consulted for local and international agencies. George Klay Kieh, Jr. is professor of political science at the University of West Georgia where he served as the dean of the College of Arts and Sciences until recently. Dr Kieh is the author, coauthor, and editor of 13 books, most recently Liberia’s First Civil War: The Crises of Underdevelopment (New York: Peter Lang Publishing, 2008), Africa and the New Globalization (Aldershot, England: Ashgate Publishing, 2008), The State in Africa: Issues and Perspectives (Ibadan: Kraft Books, 2008), and Africa and the Third Millennium (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 2008). Jack Mangala is associate professor of political science and African and African American Studies at Grand Valley State University, where he also serves as the director of the African and African American Studies Program and the director of the Area Studies Center in the Brooks College of Interdisciplinary Studies. Dr. Mangala’s scholarly interest centers on the nexus between international law and security and on Africa’s international relations, with a particular emphasis on its EU and U.S. dimensions. He is coauthor of Assessing George W. Bush’s Policies toward Africa: Proposals for the New U.S. President and African Leaders (iUniverse Press, 2009) and editor of Africa and the New World Era: From Humanitarianism to a Strategic View (Palgrave Macmillan, 2010). Prior to joining Grand Valley State, he held a NATOEAPC Fellowship from 2000 to 2002, and was a research scholar with the Center for International and Comparative Law, University of Michigan-Ann Arbor. He also served as a public prosecutor in the Democratic Republic of Congo in the early 1990s. Mambo G. Mupepi is a visiting scholar with the Center for Comparative and International Studies, University of Michigan-Ann Arbor, and an adjunct professor with the African and African American Studies Program at Grand Valley State University. Dr. Mupepi specializes in organizational development and counts numerous scholarly articles in the field. M.A. Mohamed Salih is the chair and professor of politics of development at the Institute of Social Studies, The Hague, and a professor at the Institute of Political Science at the University of Leiden, The Netherlands. Dr. Salih has published 23 books and more than 90 articles and book chapters. Among his most recent books are African Parliaments: Between Governance and Government (Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), Political Parties in Africa: Challenges for Sustained Multiparty Democracy (IDEA, 2007), African E-markets: Information and Economic Development in Africa (International Books, 2007),

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Climate Change and Sustainable Development (ISS, 2009), and Between Text and Context: Hermeneutics, Scriptural Politics and Human Rights (Palgrave Macmillan, 2009). Billie D. Tate is a doctoral candidate and a teaching fellow of political science at Howard University. His areas of interest are international relations and American government and politics. He is the author of several book chapters in press and many essays presented at professional conferences. Jeremy Youde is an assistant professor of political science at the University of Minnesota Duluth. Prior to joining UMD, he held appointments at San Diego State University and Grinnell College. Dr. Youde’s research focuses primarily on global health politics. He has published two books— Biopolitical Surveillance and Public Health in International Politics (Palgrave Macmillan, 2010) and AIDS, South Africa, and the Politics of Knowledge (Ashgate, 2007)—and numerous articles on the topic.


ACSS AGOA AGRA AI AMIB AMIS AMISEC AMISOM AQIM APSA ASF AU AUPSC BSAC CA CAADP CADSP CEI CEWS CIAT CID CIOG CJTF-HOA CNOOC COP CPA CPC

Africa Center for Strategic Studies African Growth and Opportunity Act Alliance for Green Revolution in Africa Appreciative Inquiry African Union Mission in Burundi African Union Mission in Sudan AU Mission for Support to the Elections in the Comoros AU Mission in Somalia al Qaida of the Islamic Maghreb African Peace and Security Architecture African Standby Force African Union African Union Peace and Security Council British South Africa Company Constitutive Act Comprehensive African Agricultural Development Program Common Africa Defence and Security Policy Independent Electoral Commission Continental Early Warning System Comité International d’Accompagnement de la Transition Criminal Investigation Department China International Oil and Gas Combined Joint Task Force-Horn of Africa Chinese state oil giant Community of Practice Comprehensive Peace Agreement Cadre permanent de concertation

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CPI DALYs DDR DLF DPKO DRC EBA ECOMICI ECOMOG ECOWAS ESF FAO FARDC FDI FFS FIS FLN FPI GDP GEPEX GPA GSPC HEP ICC ICISS ICJ ICT ICU IDPs IFAD IFPRI IGAD IITA IMF INPFL IPCC IEMF IT JEM LAA

Corruption Perception Index disability-adjusted life years demobilization, disarmament, and reintegration Darfur Liberation Front Department of Peace-Keeping Operations Democratic Republic of Congo Everything But Arms ECOWAS military mission in Côte d’Ivoire ECOWAS Ceasefire Monitoring Group Economic Community of West Africa economic support fund Food and Agriculture Organization Forces Armeés de la République Démocratique du Congo foreign direct investments Socialist Forces Front Islamic Salvation Front National Liberation Front Front Populaire Ivoirien gross domestic product Groupement Professionnel des Exportateurs de Café-Cacao Global Political Agreement Jamiyy’a Salafiyya li’l-Daw’a wa-‘l Jihad Harkin-Engel Protocol International Criminal Court International Commission on Intervention and State International Court of Justice information and communications technology Islamic Courts Union internally displaced persons International Fund for Agricultural Development International Food Policy Research Institute Inter-Governmental Authority on Development International Institute of Tropical Agriculture International Monetary Fund Independent National Patriotic Front of Liberia Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change Interim Emergency Multinational Force information technology Justice and Equality Movement Land Apportionment Act


LMA LPC LRIs LURD MAES MINUCI MJP MLC MODEL MONUC MoU MPCI MPIGO NEPAD NPCA NPFL OAU OD OEDCD ONUC OPA PC PDCI PDF PEPFAR PRS PSC PSOs QIP RDA RDR RECs RPF SCCM SDC SFDA SLA SLM SPLM SPS

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Linas-Marcoussis Accord Liberian Peace Council lower respiratory infections Liberians United for Reconciliation and Democracy AU Electoral and Security Assistance Mission United Nations Mission in Côte d’Ivoire Movement for Justice and Peace Movement for the Liberation of Congo Movement of Democracy in Liberia Mission de l’Organisation des Nations Unies Memorandum of Understanding Patriotic Movement of Côte d’Ivoire Ivorian Popular Movement for the Great West New Partnership for Africa’s Development NEPAD Planning and Coordination Agency National Patriotic Front of Liberia Organization of African Unity Organization Development Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development Organisation des Nations Unis au Congo Ouagadougou Political Agreement Process Consultation Parti Democratique de la Côte d’Ivoire Popular Defence Forces President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief protracted refugee situations Peace and Security Council peace support operations Quick Impact Project Rassemblement Democratique Africain Rassemblement des Republicaines regional economic communities Rwandan Patriotic Front Socially Constructed Competency Model Save Darfur Coalition Sudan Federal Democratic Alliance Sudan Liberation Army Sudan Liberation Movement Sudan People’s Liberation Movement sanitary and phytosanitary standards

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SPSS SRSG UCG UN UNAMID UNCR UNDP UNEP UNHCR UNICEF UNIMED UNMIL UNOCI UNOL UNOMIL UNOSOM/UNITAF USAID UNSC WHO ZANU-PF

Statistical Package for the Social Sciences Special Representative of the Secretary-General unconstitutional change of government United Nations United Nations-African Union Mission in Darfur United Nations Security Council Resolution United Nations Development Program United Nations Environment Program United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees United Nations Children’s Fund Peacekeeping mission of the AU and UN United Nations Mission in Liberia United Nations Operations in Côte d’Ivoire United Nations Peace-building Support Office United Nations Observer Mission in Liberia United Nations Operations in Somalia/ Unified Task Force United States Agency for International Development United Nations Security Council World Health Organization Zimbabwe African National Union-Patriotic Front

Introduction: Evolving Security Discourse and Crises in Africa: Conceptual, Policy, and Practical Relevance Jack Mangala

S

ince the end of the Cold War, there has been a broadening of the security concept and framework in two fundamental directions. In the first direction, the range of threats traditionally considered relevant to national security has been expanded to include issues such as forced migration of populations, terrorism, diseases, food insecurity, and the impacts of climate change. This reconceptualization effort is aimed at making nonmilitary threats an integral part of a national security discourse and policy that takes into account the evolving nature of potential threats that nation-states face in today’s world. In reaction to the traditional state-centric approach to security, a second direction emphasizes the needs and well-being of humans as primary referents of security. This has been the central focus and contribution of the concept of human security. Attempts to reconceptualize security in recent decades have generated a large body of literature that amounts to what Barbara von Tigerstrom calls “something of a cottage industry.”1 This endeavor to shape our understanding of security is significant in many fundamental ways because, in the final analysis, as Tigerstrom rightly puts it, “what security means will determine what we demand from the law in this role, the kind of framework for action that we want it to provide, and what we want it to achieve . . . Since security is a social construct more than an objective fact, defining security amounts to making a normative claim about when we should be secure. Even when the formulation of security concepts is presented as a response to changing external conditions, it reflects judgments of value that are no less important for being unstated.”2

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These are the challenges and stakes at the heart of the current security debate between traditionalists, who frame security around the survival imperative of the state, and what I will call humanists, who consider the well-being of humans to be the true metric of security. The ongoing security debate is not about abstract concepts. It’s about constructing a framework that will justify and sustain certain policies and actions in the pursuit of certain values that define who we are as individual societies as well as a community of nations. Such realization imposes that we explore some questions that are central to this critical debate: What is security? What are the conceptual, policy, and practical implications of this widening of the security concept? How is the new security discourse impacting Africa’s international relations in particular and global governance in general? How has the new security discourse framed the search for durable solutions to crisis and conflict situations of the past decade? These are the key questions that this volume seeks to probe, with a particular emphasis on the implications of the new security discourse on Africa, whose problems—forced migration of populations, HIV/AIDS and other diseases, food insecurity, the impacts of climate change, and terrorism— are being increasingly approached through a security prism whose contours remain, however, largely unsettled as this debate unfolds. The emerging security framework has, nonetheless, impacted the handling by the international community of some of Africa’s most visible crises. Security, a Contested Concept Barry Buzan has insightfully argued that “security,” like “justice,” is an essentially contested concept. Generally speaking, the term “security” conveys the idea of freedom from danger, which can be articulated in its objective dimension as the reality of protection and in its subjective dimension as freedom from fear or, for lack of a better word, a sense of feeling secure. According to Buzan, security involves the provision of protection to some referent object through the reduction of its vulnerabilities and the lessening or removal of threats to its survival or well-being.3 So conceived, the concept of security can be structured and studied by submitting to a threestep approach that seeks to respond to the following considerations, which are central to any discussion involving security matters. First, it is important to clearly isolate the referent object by answering the cardinal question as to who or what is being secured. Second, it is critical to assess the potential nature of the threat facing the referent object. Third, it is imperative to identify the instruments of protection needed to ensure security. In the literature, the term “security” is often preceded by modifiers—“national security,”

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“food security,” “environmental security,” “collective security”—that express the aforementioned considerations. From this analytical framework, it is possible to distinguish between different concepts of security. To that end, it is essential to identify the referent object of and threats to security, as well as the means through which security is provided. Traditional National Security Concept Conventional security scholarship and policy analysis centers almost exclusively on the defense of the territory of the state against external military threats, which are usually symbolized by adversarial states. This concept of security, dominant throughout the Cold War, rests on traditional realist canons that posit the state as the sole or primary referent object. According to the realist view, the security of the individual is secondary and dependent on the security of the state, which is the primary source of authority in an anarchic world and whose survival is central to the security of the individual.4 Within the traditional realist framework, dominated by power politics and centered on the notion of state as unitary actor, only the state, not the individual, can be the true referent object of security. It is up to the state to protect its territory and population against military threats emanating from other states. The state is thus the center of gravity of security, and its ability to defend its territory is ultimately seen as the best guarantee of freedom and security of the individual.5 The definition of security in military terms was the prevailing paradigm during the Cold War. This traditional focus on military threats would be widened in the 1990s to reflect a changing political agenda. Widened National Security Concept Since the end of the Cold War, we have witnessed a number of challenges to the traditional thinking of security. These challenges were a response to the evolving international system and security paradigm in the post-Cold War environment. Astri Suhrke has eloquently captured the dynamic that led to a rethinking of the old security paradigm. She writes, The new orientations reflected changes in the international system, which downgraded the traditional importance of military security of the Western states. At the same time, structural changes in the international system—the collapse of the Soviet empire, “failing” states in the developing world, and resurgent ethnic conflict—generated new insecurities. Globalization reinforced non-military pressures on established state practice and economies. At the same

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time, numerous institutional and group interests that wanted to call attention to their agenda and justify institutional budgets reached for the “security” label. With the end of the Cold War, the term was no longer monopolized by the military establishments and could circulate freely.6

Attempts to rethink the traditional canons of security took place in both policy and academic circles.7 Analytically, these endeavors evolved in two separate directions. The first direction sought to expand the concept of state security to include a wide array of nonmilitary threats emanating from economic, environmental, technological, and other societal sectors. Although these new dimensions of security were generally framed in relation to human collectivities organized within the state, they remained centered on the latter as the primary referent object of security. Environmental, economic, and other societal problems were simply added to traditional military considerations as new threats to state security in the pos-Cold War world. One concept that gained some prominence in the widening movement was that of societal security developed by the so-called Copenhagen school and that focused on threats “in relation to the protection of core values in the identity of a human collectivity.”8 Threats to identity, within this context, could emanate from a variety of nonsocietal and societal sectors: in the first category, military conquest, environmental degradation, and economic deprivation of resources, and in the second category, migration, cultural infusions, or cultural “imperialism.” Despite its lack of analytical clarity, the societal security concept is believed to have influenced the trend toward the securitization of migration discourse that started in the 1990s and subsequent restrictive policies adopted in various regions of the world, with European countries leading the charge.9 The broadening of the security concept has also been on full display at the UN Security Council since the early 1990s. Under Resolution 688 of April 5, 1991, the Security Council invoked Chapter VII of the UN Charter in relation to the magnitude of the Kurdish exodus into neighboring Turkey, a situation that the Council qualified as “a threat to international peace and security.” UN intervention in Somalia was justified by Security Council Resolution 751 of April 24, 1993, on the basis of “the magnitude of human suffering,” which constituted a threat to international peace and security. Other nonmilitary issues, ranging from HIV/AIDS to10 terrorism11 to climate change,12 have also been addressed by the Council as similar threats. At the state level, nonmilitary threats have become an integral part of national security discourses and assessments as evidenced, for example, by the 1997 National Security Strategy of the United States, which stated, “Some threats transcend national borders. These transnational threats, such

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as terrorism, the illegal drug trade, illicit arms trafficking, international organized crime, uncontrolled refugee migrations, and environmental damage threaten American interests and citizens, both directly and indirectly. Not all of these are new threats, but advances in technology have, in some cases, made these threats more potent.”13 The widening movement doesn’t, however, present a normative challenge to the state-centric approach to security. It is a mere accommodation of the latter through the inclusion of a number of nonmilitary threats to the security of the state, which remains, in the final analysis, the referent object of security. The implications of HIV/AIDS, climate change, food insecurity, and terrorism are fundamentally assessed in relation to the state and its ability to provide security and survive as an autonomous and functioning entity in a world dominated by anarchy and power politics. The second direction of the reconceptualization of security that emerged in the early 1990s would challenge the state as the primary referent object of security through the formulation of the concept of human security. Promises and Shortcomings of the Human Security Concept The concept of human security has been presented as a new “paradigm” for foreign policy.14 Secretary-General Kofi Annan referred to it as the “unifying concept” of the UN and urged scholars to undertake studies aimed at operationalizing it.15 The UN Development Program (UNDP) has gone as far as to assert that the “idea of human security . . . is likely to revolutionize the world.”16 Despite its appeal, human security remains an unpolished concept. The Human Development Report articulates two main aspects in the definition of human security: (1) safety from such chronic threats as hunger, disease, and repression and (2) protection from sudden and hurtful disruptions in the patterns of daily life. These two aspects express, respectively, the notions of “freedom from want” and “freedom from fear,” which are presented as the twin pillars of the human security concept. Against the backdrop of the cardinal notions of freedom from fear and freedom from want, the Human Development Report 1994 asserts that the security of the individual as the primary referent object must be structured and pursued in seven interconnected security clusters: economic, food, health, environment, personal, community, and political.17 From the original articulation of the human security concept by the UNDP have emerged two competing interpretations that seem to indicate different policy priorities rather than disagreement over the substance of the human security concept itself. A restrictive version of human security, embodied, for example, in Canada’s foreign policy, focuses on freedom from

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fear understood narrowly as protection from direct physical violence, especially in conflict situations.18 An extensive version, such as the one endorsed by Japan’s foreign policy, insists on the imperative of devoting equal attention to freedom from want and freedom from fear. As a matter of fact, Japan has defined and used the concept of human security in its foreign policy as protection of the lives, livelihoods, and dignity of individuals.19 This broad interpretation has also been embraced by the Commission on Human Security, which defines human security as protection of “the vital core of all human lives in ways that embrace human freedoms and human fulfillment . . . protecting people from critical (severe) and pervasive (widespread) threats and situations.”20 Since its inception, the concept of human security has faced several criticisms and concerns. One common criticism is that human security cannot be defined in a way that is coherent or useful. From a conceptual standpoint, it has been argued that by expanding the notion of security beyond the traditional referent (state) and threat (military force), the human security concept undermines its analytical precision. While recognizing that there is a certain appeal in making the individual the referent object of security, Buzan, however, concludes that “the cost to be paid is loss of analytical purchase.”21 Overall, critics seem to admit the mobilizing potential of the concept while questioning its policy, analytical, and scholarly relevance.22 It has also been argued that the trend toward “securitization” could undermine the actual provision of protection by sharpening differences between groups of people. Keith Krause expresses this concern by asking whether this trend “actually lead[s] us down the wrong path when we treat certain problems—such as migration or HIV/AIDS—as threats to our own security, building walls between people where we could be building bridges?”23 Some critiques from the feminist persuasion have been particularly concerned that the human security concept’s emphasis on protection could represent individuals, especially women, only as passive victims and thus fail to project a sense of their own agency.24 Another line of criticism is that the “human” emphasis in the formulation of the concept may actually serve “to conceal the gendered underpinnings of security practices.”25 Despite the criticisms about its conceptual limitations, human security has shown great potential as both an agenda for action and an approach or a perspective. It is worth to briefly investigate these two functions. Various organizations and governments have, since the end of the Cold War, sought to advance a human security agenda by bringing to the forefront a wide range of issues that impact, or represent a threat to, the security of individuals in various contexts. Under the human security policy framework, issues such as illicit drug trade, environmental degradation, terrorism, refugees and internally displaced persons (IDPs), food scarcity, HIV/AIDS, peacekeeping

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and peacebuilding operations, and poverty reduction, to name just a few, have been brought together in a single agenda. Human security has provided the “unifying concept” to this broad agenda intended to put the security of the individual at the center of policy deliberations and actions. As Tigerstrom notes, “Reference to the concept of human security can be especially helpful in drawing attention to issues that may have been neglected because they have not seemed significant for national or international security, yet have serious consequences for the security of the individuals.”26 While it is true that the agenda-setting function of human security caries the risk of “overwhelming breadth and complexity,” it has nonetheless made a significant contribution to the security debate by allowing “policy-makers and analysts to see connections between issues that might not otherwise be recognized.”27 Human security has also been referred to as an approach or a perspective. This approach stems from the critical tradition, in that it questions the dominant paradigm, which is predicated on the security of the state. The attempt to shift the center of gravity of the traditional security paradigm is based on the practical realization that people’s security “is not automatically enhanced when the state’s security is protected.” Human security as an approach, contends Rob McRae, “takes the individual as the nexus of its concern, the life as lived, as the true lens through which we should view the political, economic, and social environment.”28 The critical perspective of human security has been influential, in the emergence of the principle of responsibility to protect, even though this principle has not yet received widespread acceptance. Nonetheless, the principle of responsibility to protect represents one of the outcomes of the movement to rethink sovereignty as responsibility as articulated by the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS).29 Within this framework, sovereignty is viewed not as an end in itself, but rather as an instrument aimed at ensuring the protection of the population under state jurisdiction. This inflection of the principle of sovereignty allows for the possibility of intervention by external states to help the territorial sovereign meet its obligation to provide security to its people. Such a possibility represents a response to the growing realization that although governments have the primary responsibility to protect, they can also be—and often are—a threat to human security. Cases of mass rapes by members of governmental army forces in countries such as the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Guinea are the vivid illustration of the state acting as a threat to human security. The critical imperative reflected in human security as an approach has been well articulated by Barbara von Tigerstrom: Like its precursor concept of human development, human security is particularly well suited to providing a critical perspective. The underlying rationale of

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both concepts is that we cannot accept certain assumptions at face value if we are genuinely concerned with human well-being: a country’s economic growth will not automatically benefit individuals living in that country; the security of a state does not necessarily ensure, and its pursuit may even undermine, the security of its inhabitants. By focusing on the actual, “visceral” state of human beings we are forced to question assumptions and test the reality of “abstract” theories and concepts.30

What has been the impact of the evolving security discourse on the search for durable solutions to crisis and conflict situations in Africa? In Search of Durable Solutions to Crisis and Conflict Situations At the closing of the solemn ceremonial launching of the Peace and Security Council (PSC) of the African Union (AU) in 2004, the Heads of States and Governments of the member states of the PSC issued a statement of commitment that reads, inter alia, To achieve our objective of creating the conditions of durable peace and development on the African continent, we are determined to address the root causes of such conflicts in a systematic and holistic manner. We are mindful of the fact that to accomplish these goals, we must set for ourselves and achieve everhigher standards in the areas of human rights, democracy, good governance and conflict prevention, which are a prerequisite for achieving the socio-economic development and integration of our continent. We recognize that the foundation of peace and security in Africa is intrinsically linked to the concept of human security. Accordingly, we reaffirm our commitment to the promotion of a comprehensive vision of human security.31

The Heads of States and Governments went on to affirm their commitment to address the underlying issues that have contributed to conflict and insecurity, including ethnic and religious extremism; corruption; exclusionary definitions of citizenship; poverty and disease, with special attention on the HIV/AIDS epidemic, which has now become a security problem on our continent; the illegal exploitation of Africa’s renewable and non-renewable natural resources; mercenarism; the illicit proliferation, circulation and trafficking of small arms and light weapons; and the continuing toll exacted by anti-personnel landmines. We should also work tirelessly to combat the phenomenon of terrorism.32

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This statement echoes the holistic vision of peace and security embedded in the AU Charter.33 However, preliminary evidence suggests that, largely, human security still remains a marginal concept when it comes to the implementation of this vision. The policy frameworks through which African states, regional organizations, and the international community have approached issues of peace and security on the continent have been essentially dominated by a state-centric approach. The countless number of failed or aborted peace agreements that seem to focus primarily on preserving the politico-economic interests of government elites and other state actors (warlords and political opponents) shows the limitations of a state security paradigm. This state-centric approach has been confirmed through a growing reference to new security threats in policy and political discourses, all of which seem to indicate that the state is still very much conceived of and approached as the primary referent object of security. The full potential of the human security paradigm has not yet been realized in the search for durable solutions to African crises. Take, for example, the issue of refugees that has been framed in security terms by many African leaders.34 A look at the prevailing refugee policies and practices in affected countries shows that their focus is fundamentally on protecting the host states against the perceived threats represented by refugees, especially in situations of mass influx. Refugees’ vulnerabilities, their human dignity, and the well-being of host communities as well as communities in countries of origin don’t seem to be a major preoccupation of policymakers in their attempt to “contain” this new threat, which has led, for example, to locating refugee camps in the most inhospitable environments. The securitization of the refugee problem can help, in part, explain South Africa’s cautious approach toward the crisis in Zimbabwe, preferring a status quo that contributed to a further deterioration of human security in the potential country of origin of refugees that South Africa wanted to protect itself against. The underlying tensions and contradictions between state security and human security raise questions and invite reflection that this book would like to contribute to.

Structure of the Book What is the meaning and relevance of the new security discourse for Africa? How has this discourse impacted the search by international and regional actors for durable solutions to Africa’s crisis and conflict situations? These are the central questions that this volume seeks to address. It is structured in two parts.

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Under the title “New Security Threats: African and International Perspectives,” the first part includes six chapters that probe the relevance of the new security discourse in key policy areas. In Chapter 1, Jamila El Abdellaoui offers an overview of the AU’s legal, institutional, and policy frameworks in the area of peace and security. Against this backdrop, El Abdellaoui discusses the evolution of the AU’s responsibilities and doctrine with particular emphasis on new security threats. She assesses the operationalization of the AU’s peace and security architecture and vision, noting in particular the challenges that have constrained the organization’s efforts and suggesting some constructive ways forward. Jack Mangala addresses the securitization of refugees and IDPs in Chapter 2. Mangala analyzes the shift from a humanitarian to a security paradigm in the treatment of refugees and IDPs. He argues in substance that, while the security discourse on refugees and IDPs has helped to provide the missing link between forced displacement and security, the current state-centric focus needs to be enriched by a human security approach that posits humans as the primary referent object of security. Chapter 3, by Abdul Karim Bangura and Billie D. Tate, analyzes Africa’s responses to international terrorism and the war against it. Bangura and Tate probe the prosecution of the War on Terror in Africa and question some of the assumptions guiding this war. One of the central preoccupations of the chapter is to investigate the correlation between majority Muslim African states and activities that have occurred on the continent labeled terroristic. Regarding this crucial question, Bangura and Tate convincingly conclude that neither Islam nor Christianity or any other religion seems to be a significant explanation for the terrorist activities that have taken place in Africa. After analyzing Africa’s responses to these activities, they call, in the final analysis, for an equitable partnership between Africa and the West in the fight against terrorism, a partnership that accepts the proposition “that African states also have national interests.” Oli Brown and Alec Crawford examine the nexus between climate change and conflict in Chapter 4. They note that Africa, though the continent least responsible for greenhouse gas emissions, is almost universally seen as the continent most at risk of climate-induced conflict. Through a methodical review of existing scholarly evidence, Brown and Crawford highlight both uncertainties and analytical convergences in the assessment of the security implications of climate change on the African continent. To mitigate the challenges posed by climate change, they offer a series of strategies for peace and development aimed, respectively, at improving projections and predictions, minimizing the devastating effects of climate change, adapting to the impacts

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of climate change, and integrating climate change into all relevant levels of governance. In Chapter 5, Daniel Karanja addresses the question of food security. Karanja brilliantly shows how chronic food insecurity in many parts of Africa has exacerbated other human vulnerabilities such as conflicts and diseases. However, he notes a renewed interest in and the emergence of new opportunities that have the potential to revitalize Africa’s agricultural growth and food security. This process requires overcoming some critical constraints that Karanja discusses before calling on African governments “to stay the course of making hard decisions and continue to embrace reform, shifting from policies and institutions that do not work to those that are dynamic and more responsive to the realities of these times.” Jeremy Youde investigates Africa’s health challenges in Chapter 6. While acknowledging that there appears to be a growing consensus on the importance of health and disease for African politics and security, Youde also notes that “large disagreements exist over how and why it matters.” Against this backdrop, he offers a robust review of the current state of the debate over the health-security nexus in Africa through an in-depth examination of how the role of health in security politics has changed, how scholars and policymakers have assessed the nature of this relationship, and the consequences they have foretold. Youde’s central contention is that security is not the most appropriate framework for encouraging national and international action against infectious diseases in Sub-Saharan Africa. Instead, he proposes a conceptual shift that frames infectious disease as a human rights or development issue in lieu of a security issue. Part II of the volume is titled “The International Community and African Crises” and contains five contributions in which the authors analyze the role that regional and international actors have played in the search for durable solutions to crisis and conflict situations in five African countries. In Chapter 7, M.A. Mohamed Salih revisits the role of the international community in the conflict in Darfur. Salih argues that the conflict in Darfur has created three interlocked trajectories on which the international community ought to focus: the right to self-determination, state building, and the “responsibility to protect” civilians where human rights abuses have occurred or where crimes against humanity or genocide have been committed. Salih discusses the potentials and limitations of the aforementioned principles in contributing to a durable resolution of the conflict in Darfur before concluding that “the problems confronting the international community in Darfur are intractable and comprehensible only within the core values of the emergent democratic governance norms.”

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Chapter 8, by John F. Clark, assesses the international community’s involvement in the Democratic Republic of Congo’s recent crises, which have cost the lives of millions in the central African state. Of particular interest in Clark’s discussion of the international community’s handling of the Congo crisis is the concept of “enablement,” through which he attempts to answer the question as to whether actions of the international community actually contributed to prolonging or deepening the conflict. Clark offers a critical analysis of the many failures of the international community, whose weak response to the crises in the Congo “belies the liberal hope that international institutions and norms have evolved to the point that mass death in civil-international conflicts can now be averted.” In Chapter 9, George Kieh advances a sharp and intellectually refreshing analysis of the impacts of international organizations on civil wars in Africa, using the Liberian case. Kieh examines the modes and the effects of the intervention of the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) and the UN in the Liberian civil wars. His assessment of ECOWAS’ and the UN’s involvement in post-conflict peacebuilding in Liberia highlights some sharp contrasts between the regional organization and the global organization. Kieh argues that while ECOWAS’ intervention in the two Liberian civil wars was pivotal to arresting the tide of anarchy and destruction that had engulfed the country, ECOWAS’ peacemaking approach also resulted in the rewarding of warlordism—especially during the first civil war—which had a negative impact on finding a durable settlement to the conflict. As for the UN’s involvement, Kieh contends that “the liberal peacebuilding approach which provides the compass for navigating the UN’s involvement in postconflict peacebuilding will not lead to the building of a holistically democratic new Liberia.” In Chapter 10, Abdul Karim Bangura probes the roles that various regional and international actors—the AU, Burkina Faso, ECOWAS, France, the UN, the United States, and major transnational cocoa companies—have played in Côte d’Ivoire’s political and economic crises. Bangura provides a robust historical background from which to approach Côte d’Ivoire’s present predicament. With a deep understanding of the country’s complex reality, he formulates practical recommendations that can put Côte d’Ivoire on a path to political stability and sustained economic growth. Chapter 11, by Mambo Mupepi, investigates the origin of the crisis in Zimbabwe and proposes a framework for local and international engagement in the country. Mupepi discusses the three major contending forces that have shaped the land issue narrative and its political instrumentalization in Zimbabwe. Mupepi formulates a wide range of policy recommendations that seek, in substance, to generate social, political, economic, and cultural

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dynamics that could lead to a people-centered development on the basis of the rule of law. Chapters in this volume represent an important contribution to the evolving discourse on “new security threats” and to a better understanding of the profound dynamics that have impacted the involvement in and resolution of African crises by international and regional actors.

Notes 1. Barbara von Tigerstrom, Human Security and International Law (Portland: Hart Publishing, 2007), 8. 2. Ibid., 3. 3. Barry Buzan, People, States and Fear: An Agenda for International Security Studies in the Post-Cold War Era (New York: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1991), 112. 4. Ibid., 22, 37–38. 5. Michael Sheehan, International Security: An Analytical Survey (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 2005), 11. 6. Astri Suhrke, “Human Security and the Protection of Refugees,” in Edward Newman and Joanne van Selm, eds., Refugees and Forced Displacement: International System, Human Vulnerability, and the State (New York: United Nations Press, 2003), 95. 7. A number of key initiatives gave momentum to the scholarly widening of the security concept. For example, the MacArthur Foundation launched a major program in the early 1990s with the aim of encouraging scholarly thinking about “new security” issues. The Woodrow Wilson Center initiated a multiyear project on Environment and Security. 8. Suhrke, op. cit., 95. 9. See, inter alia, Ole Waever et al., Identity, Migration and the new Security Agenda in Europe (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1993). 10. The impact of AIDS on peace and security in Africa was debated during a UN Security Council meeting in January 2000. This was the first time in the Council’s history that a health issue was discussed as a threat to peace and security. The UN secretary-general Kofi Annan to the Council: “The impact of AIDS in Africa was no less destructive than that of warfare itself . . . AIDS is causing social and economic crises which in turn threaten political stability.” See “Security Council holds debate on impact of AIDS on peace and security in Africa,” 4086th meeting, press release, SC/6781, January 10, 2000. 11. See, inter alia, Resolutions 1269 (1999) of October 19, 1999, 1368 (2001) of September 12, 2001, and 1373 (2001) of September 28, 2001. Adopted in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks of September 11, the latter outlines a wideranging antiterrorist agenda with steps and strategies to combat the phenomenon. 12. See UN Department of Public Information, “United Nations Security Council holds first ever debate on impact of climate change on peace, Security hearing over

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14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

23. 24.

25.

26. 27. 28.

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50 speakers,” UN Security Council 5663rd meeting, April 17, 2007. Available at http://www.un.org/news/press/docs/2007/SC9000.doc.htm. United States of America, A National Security Strategy for A New Century, May 1997. In regard to Africa, the document stated that “serious transnational security threats emanate from Africa, including: state-sponsored terrorism, narcotics trafficking, international crime, environmental damage and disease. These threats can only be addressed through effective, sustained engagement in Africa.” Canada, Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (DFAIT), Freedom from Fear: Canada’s Foreign Policy for Human Security (Ottawa: DFAIT, 2000), 1. Kofi Annan, “The Quiet Revolution,” Global Governance 4, No. 127 (1998): 136–137. United Nations Development Program (UNDP), Human Development Report 1994 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), 22. Ibid., 23–32. Canada, Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (DFAIT), Human Security: Safety for People in a Changing World (Ottawa: DFAIT, 1999), 3. Japan, Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MOFA), Diplomatic Bluebook 2002 (Tokyo: MOFA, 2002), 88. Commission on Human Security, Human Security Now: Protecting and Empowering People (New York: Commission on Human Security, 2003), 4. Barry Buzan, “A Reductionist, Idealistic Notion That Adds Little Analytical Value,” Security Dialogue 35, No. 3 (2004): 370. See, inter alia, Roland Paris, “Human Security: Paradigm Shift or Hot Air?” International Security 87, No. 26 (2001), 87–102; William Tow and Russell Trood, “Linkages between Traditional Security and Human Security,” in William Tow and Ramesh Thakur, eds., Asia’s Emerging Regional Order: Reconciling Traditional and Human Security (Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 2000), 14. Keith Krause, “The Key to a Powerful Agenda, if Properly Delimited,” Security Dialogue 367, No. 35 (2004), 368. Heidi Hudson, “ ‘Doing’ Security as Though Humans Matter: A Critical Perspective on Gender and the Politics of Human Security,” Security Dialogue 155, No. 36–2 (2005): 170. Ibid., 157. The Commission on Human Security seems to have responded to this concern by stressing both protection and empowerment. See Commission on Human Security, Human Security Now: Protecting and Empowering People (New York: Commission on Human Security, 2003), 10–12. von Tigerstrom, op. cit., 47. Ibid., 46. Rob McRae, “Human Security in a Globalized World,” in Rob McRae and Don Hubert, eds., Human Security and the New Diplomacy: Protecting People, Promoting Peace (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2001), 15. International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty, Responsibility to Protect: Report of the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (Ottawa: International Development Research Centre, 2001).

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30. von Tigerstrom, op. cit., 49. 31. African Union, Statement of Commitment to Peace and Security in Africa, issued by the Heads of States and Governments of the member states of the Peace and Security Council of the African Union, May 25, 2004, PSC/AHG/ST (X.), para. 4–5. 32. Ibid., para. 11–12. 33. See Timothy Murithi, The African Union: Pan-Africanis, Peacebuilding and Development (Adershot: Ashgate, 2005). 34. Tanzania’s deputy home affairs minister E. Mwambulukutu spelled out the new security approach toward refugees in a 1996 speech: “Hosting refugees has become a heavier and more painful burden than ever before to countries of asylum like Tanzania. Protecting and assisting refugees has brought new risks to national security, exacerbated tensions between states and caused extensive damage to the environment.” Quoted in Augistine Mahiga, “A Change of Direction for Tanzania,” Refugees, No. 110 (1997): 15.


PART I

New Security Threats: African and International Perspectives


CHAPTER 1

The African Union and Security in Africa Jamila El Abdellaoui

Introduction Undoubtedly, Africa has been confronted with a myriad of challenges that have impinged on the continent’s capacity to unleash its full potential and provide peace, security, and prosperity to its peoples. Acknowledging that the overwhelming threat to security in Africa is the scourge of conflict, numerous efforts have been undertaken to prevent, manage, or resolve antagonisms between and, more often, within states. As such, an extraordinary emphasis has been placed on issues concomitant to conflict, for example, the proliferation of arms, reform of the security sector, and the illegal exploitation of the continent’s immeasurable natural resources. However, as discussed elsewhere in this volume, in recent years it seems that the African leadership has begun to have a better appreciation of the so-called new threats to security in Africa, such as the HIV/AIDS pandemic, millions of refugees or internally displaced persons (IDPs), and climate change. At the center of Africa’s ongoing engagement with issues pertaining to security is the African Union (AU or Union). The pan-African organization was established in 1963 as the Organization of African Unity (OAU), which was primarily focused on liberating the continent from the remaining forces of colonialism. The changed dynamics in the political playing field following the end of the Cold War necessitated that the continental organization transforms itself and adjusts its focus to the challenges that emerged as a direct result of, inter alia, the superpowers’ loss of interest in Africa. Grappling as it was with numerous intra-state wars, weak and often autocratic governance structures, as well as the ready availability of arms, the OAU was

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officially revamped into the AU in 2002. Several institutional as well as legal adjustments that came with the transformation arguably enhanced the organization’s capacity to respond to the security challenges of the day. However, the aforementioned less conventional threats to security in Africa have not escaped the continental body’s attention and have dictated that there should be continuous reexamination of its priorities and evaluation of its effectiveness as the bearer of the greatest responsibility for peace, security, and stability in Africa. Exactly ten years after the legal foundation for the establishment of the AU was laid, this chapter discusses the AU as the fulcrum of African efforts to tackle the traditional as well as new security threats facing the continent. Following a brief discussion on the transformation from the OAU to the AU, the chapter will examine the legal and institutional framework of the AU. Thereafter the chapter will delve into the various pillars underpinning the African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA) as well as the innovative program for development in Africa, namely, the New Partnership for Africa’s Development (NEPAD). After a discussion on the AU and the building blocks of an integrated Africa, the Regional Economic Communities (RECs), the chapter will turn to a brief overview of the AU’s recent main efforts to pull Africa out of the abyss of conflict and poverty. From the Organization of African Unity to the African Union The transformation of the OAU into the AU was set in motion by a decision made at the Fourth Extraordinary Session of the Assembly of Heads of State and Government on September 9, 1999, in Sirte, Libya. The Sirte Declaration noted the African leaders’ conviction that “our Continental Organization needs to be revitalized in order to be able to play a more active role and continue to be relevant to the needs of our peoples and responsive to the demands of the prevailing circumstances.”1 The legal foundation for the AU was laid when on July 11, 2000, the Constitutive Act (CA or Act) was adopted in Lomé, Togo. The Act notes the consciousness that “the scourge of conflicts in Africa constitutes a major impediment to the socioeconomic development of the continent and of the need to promote peace, security and stability as a prerequisite for the implementation of our development and integration agenda.”2 Not only did the CA expand the regional organization’s objectives and principles significantly, but it also provided the AU with revised and additional organs in order to carry out its new mandate in a more robust manner. In terms of objectives, while most of the OAU objectives were retained, the Act placed emphasis on the need to promote peace, security, and stability;

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enable Africa to play a more important role in the global economy; promote economic, social, and cultural development; and integrate African economies.3 Furthermore, the AU was expected to “work with relevant international partners in the eradication of preventable diseases and the promotion of good health on the continent.”4 Regarding the principles, article 4 (h) of the Act provided the AU the right to decide to intervene in a Member State in case war crimes, genocide, or crimes against humanity were committed. This was arguably the most important change of the revamped organization as it was a clear rejection of the OAU’s noninterference principle.5 Besides the Assembly, Executive Council (instead of the Council of Ministers), and the expanded Commission (in place of the Secretariat), the Act provided the AU with the Pan-African Parliament, Court of Justice, Permanent Representative Committee, Specialized Technical Committees, Economic, Social, and Cultural Council, and Financial Institutions.6 The new institutions were believed to enhance the AU’s capacity to carry out its expanded mandate, although arguably the most important new tool at the disposal of the AU was created several years later. Article 5 (2) of the CA provides that the Assembly may establish any other organs it deems fit. Accordingly, at the time of the official inauguration of the AU in Durban, South Africa, on July 9, 2002, African leaders adopted the Protocol Relating to the Establishment of the Peace and Security Council of the African Union (PSC Protocol), although the PSC Protocol entered into force only in December 2003. The Peace and Security Council (PSC or Council) is the backbone of the APSA, the foundation of which was laid during an OAU summit in July 2001 when a decision was taken to integrate into the AU the central components of the OAU Mechanism for Conflict Prevention, Management and Resolution established in 1993.7

The African Peace and Security Architecture The Peace and Security Council The founders of the PSC, an organ often referred to as the United Nations (UN) Security Council’s African counterpart, noted their awareness of the “provisions of the Charter of the United Nations, conferring on the Security Council primary responsibility for the maintenance of international peace and security, as well as the provisions of the Charter on the role of regional arrangements or agencies in the maintenance of international peace and security”8 in the PSC Protocol. The founding document also stated the concern “about the continued prevalence of armed conflicts in Africa and the fact that no single internal factor has contributed more to socioeconomic decline on

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the continent and the suffering of the civilian population than the scourge of conflicts within and between our States.”9 Accordingly, in order to enhance Africa’s capacity to address this problem, the PSC was established “as a standing decision-making organ for the prevention, management and resolution of conflicts.”10 The PSC is expected to “promote peace, security and stability”; “anticipate and prevent conflicts”; “promote and implement peace-building and postconflict reconstruction activities”; “coordinate and harmonize continental efforts in the prevention and combating of international terrorism”; “develop a common defence policy for the AU”; and “promote and encourage democratic practices, good governance and the rule of law, protect human rights and fundamental freedoms.”11 In order to achieve these objectives, the PSC is empowered to, amongst others, authorize peace support missions, recommend the Assembly to intervene in a Member State in accordance with article 4 (h) of the Act, institute sanctions in case an unconstitutional change of government (UCG) has taken place, and decide on any other issues that affect peace, security, and stability in Africa.12 The PSC is composed of 15 AU Member States: ten Member States serve on the PSC for a period of two years while five Member States have a mandate for three years.13 Both groups of members have the option of being reelected.14 Member States are voted onto the PSC by the Assembly, which is expected to follow certain criteria in doing so, namely, amongst others, a country’s “commitment to uphold the principles of the Union,” “contribution to the promotion and maintenance of peace and security in Africa,” “capacity and commitment to shoulder the responsibilities entailed in membership,” “willingness and ability to take up responsibility for regional and continental conflict resolution initiatives,” and the more practical requirements of a country “having sufficiently staffed and equipped Permanent Missions at the Headquarters of the Union” as well as showing a “commitment to honor financial obligations to the Union.”15 As a standing decision-making organ, the PSC meets at least twice a month or more often as required. The Council may meet at the level of Permanent Representatives, Ministers, or Heads of State and Government. A chair presides over the PSC on a monthly rotating basis. The agenda for meetings of the Council are informed by proposals put forward by the Member States and the Chairperson of the Commission. PSC meetings are generally closed, although it may be decided that a meeting can be joined by a non-PSC member country; stakeholders in a conflict to be discussed; as well as civil society, regional, and international organizations, obviously without the right to vote. Unlike at the UN Security Council, no PSC member has veto power; decisions are generally meant to be reached by consensus.


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If that is not possible, then procedural matters are decided upon by a simple majority, while all other matters by a two-thirds majority.16 To date, the PSC has held more than 225 meetings and has undertaken numerous activities, some of which will be discussed later in this chapter. While an in-depth assessment of the PSC’s functioning to date is beyond the scope of this chapter,17 several general observations can nevertheless be noted. For instance, as an entirely new structure, the PSC faced a lack of institutional memory and most likely different expectations among those representing the countries voted onto the Council, although now expected to perform as a cohesive entity. Its novelty could also support an argument that most of those serving on the Council had little experience in grappling with collective security concerns in a multilateral context such as the AU. Serving on the PSC also required the Member States to significantly increase the capacity of their missions in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Furthermore, in light of the ongoing conflicts and crises on the continent, the Council “hit the ground running,” while most of its support structures were still in the process of being operationalized. For some of these structures, as will be discussed, this process has not been completed to date.

Support Structures The PSC Protocol provides for the establishment of various support structures, often referred to jointly with the PSC as the pillars of the APSA, to assist the Council in carrying out its hefty mandate. Article 2 (2) refers to the Commission, Panel of the Wise (Panel), Continental Early Warning System (CEWS), African Standby Force (ASF), and a Special Fund as the main tools at the disposal of the Council. Each of these often unique structures and the progress made in and challenges with their operationalization are discussed in detail elsewhere, and for the sake of brevity, the following section will examine their most important features only. Commission The Commission is often omitted in discussions on the APSA, while the PSC Protocol outlines rather essential tasks for its Chairperson in relation to the functioning of the PSC. These include to “bring to the attention of the [PSC] any matter, which, in his/her opinion, may threaten peace, security and stability on the continent”; “at his/her own initiative or when so requested by the [PSC] use his/her good offices, either personally or through special envoys, special representatives, . . . , to prevent potential conflicts”; and most importantly, to be responsible for “the implementation and follow-up of

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the decision of the [PSC], including mounting and deploying peace support missions authorized by the [PSC].”18 Panel of the Wise Article 11 of the PSC Protocol emphasizes the role of the Panel in the conflict prevention efforts of the Council. It is composed of five distinguished African individuals who have made significant contributions to the promotion of peace and development in Africa. Its primary task is to advise the PSC as well as the Chairperson of the Commission on peace, security, and stability issues. The Panel may also undertake activities, either at its own initiative or at the request of the PSC or the Chairperson of the Commission, to support both organs’ efforts in relation to conflict prevention. Since its inauguration in December 2007, the Panel has undertaken various actions in support of the PSC and the Chairperson of the Commission.19 Continental Early Warning System The CEWS’ primary function is to provide the required data on situations of concern in order to anticipate and subsequently prevent these situations from escalating. An observation and monitoring center (referred to as the Situation Room) located at the Union is tasked with the analysis of information gathered. In addition, similar structures of the various RECs are expected to be linked and to feed information to the Situation Room, while the importance of the Commission’s collaboration with the UN and other relevant organizations, including non-governmental organizations (NGOs), is also acknowledged. In order to undertake data analysis, the CEWS is developing “an early warning module based on clearly defined and accepted political, economic, social, military and humanitarian indicators.”20 African Standby Force Possibly the most unique organ of the APSA is the ASF, which is expected to, inter alia, deploy observation and monitoring missions, peace support missions, interventions in Member States in accordance with article 4 (h), peacebuilding and post-conflict activities, and humanitarian assistance efforts.21 More concretely, the contribution of the ASF is envisioned to take the shape of one of six scenarios: (1) AU/regional advisor to a political mission, (2) AU/regional observer mission codeployed with a UN mission, (3) stand-alone AU/regional observer mission, (4) AU/regional peacekeeping force for UN Chapter VI and preventive deployment missions, (5) AU peacekeeping force for complex multidimensional missions, and (6) AU intervention. Once fully operational, the ASF will consist of standby multidisciplinary contingents in each of the five regions of the AU (north,


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west, east, central, and south).22 The ASF is being operationalized in phases between 2010 and 2015, although complete operationalization was initially planned for 2010. Special Fund The financial pillar of the APSA consists of a Special Fund, known as the Peace Fund, which comprises funds retrieved from the Union’s budget; voluntary contributions of Member States, private sector, civil society, and other actors; and funds collected through fund-raising efforts. Most of the contributions collected through the Fund will be used to realize peace support missions as well as other efforts to promote peace, security, and stability.23 Regional Economic Communities The AU recognizes eight RECs—the Arab Maghreb Union (UMA), Common Market for Eastern and Southern Africa (COMESA), Community of Sahel-Saharan States (CEN-SAD), East African Community (EAC), Economic Community of Central African States (ECCAS), Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD), and Southern Africa Development Community (SADC)—and acknowledges in article 16 of the PSC Protocol that Regional Mechanisms for Conflict Prevention, Management and Resolution are part of the overall security architecture of the Union. The article goes on to state that the PSC and the Chairperson of the Commission are required to maintain a close working relationship with the Mechanisms as well as to ensure that the Mechanisms’ activities aimed at the promotion of peace and security are harmonized and coordinated. In 2007, the AU and the RECs further strengthened and specified the modalities of their collaboration by signing a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU). The objectives of the MoU include exchanging information between the RECs and the AU on a regular basis, collaborating in the development and implementation of peace and security initiatives, and ensuring consistency in the activities of the RECs with the objectives and principles of the AU.24 New Partnership for Africa’s Development NEPAD was launched in October 2001 in Abuja, Nigeria, following its adoption at the Thirty-Seventh Session of the OAU Assembly of Heads of State and Government in July 2001 in Lusaka, Zambia. As stated by the AU, “NEPAD is a programme of the AU created by Africans, for Africans and implemented by Africans.”25 More concretely, NEPAD is described as, in

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part, “a vision and programme of action for the redevelopment of the African Continent” as well as “a comprehensive integrated development plan that addresses key social, economic and political priorities in a coherent and balanced manner” and “a call to the rest of the world to partner Africa in her own development on the basis of her own agenda and programme of action.”26 NEPAD points to its uniqueness—as compared with previous development programs in Africa—since Africa has witnessed “new political will” on the part of its leaders. It counts on the augmented awareness that conditions in Africa have changed, requiring different approaches. Specifically, the NEPAD Framework of 2001 notes that the changing dynamics in the post-Cold War era are “associated with the emergence of new concepts of security and self-interest, which encompass the right to development and the eradication of poverty.”27 NEPAD generally aims to “promote accelerated growth and sustainable development,” “eradicate widespread and severe poverty,” and finally, “halt the marginalization of Africa in the globalization process.”28 To achieve these broad objectives, NEPAD has identified several priority sectors, including Agriculture and Food Security and Environment, Trade and Market Access, Gender Development and Climate Change, and Culture and Tourism. To rationalize its Peace and Security Initiative, NEPAD emphasizes peace and security as a condition for sustainable development. In turn, it notes that “long-term conditions for ensuring peace and security in Africa require policy measures for addressing political and social vulnerabilities on which conflict is premised.”29 Other NEPAD initiatives consider Democracy and Political Governance and Economic and Corporate Governance.30 Since NEPAD was created prior to the official inauguration of the AU in 2002, the Partnership commenced its functioning outside of the Union, although the process of integrating it into the AU began several years back. The phased integration process started with the harmonization of programs and procedures, and recently, the phase of the physical integration of the NEPAD elements was finalized. At the Fourteenth Session of the Assembly of Heads of State and Government in February 2010 in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, it was decided that the NEPAD Planning and Coordination Agency (NPCA), located at the AU Commission, would replace the NEPAD Secretariat. The NPCA’s primary functions are to facilitate and coordinate the implementation of priority programs and to mobilize resources and partners to enable the undertaking of such programs.31 From Theory to Practice: An Overview of Main AU Actions As may be expected, the bulk of the recent efforts of the AU have focused on traditional security issues—meditating between conflicting


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parties, responding to crises and conflicts by deploying delegations or peace support operations (PSOs), restoring constitutional order following the everincreasing phenomenon of unconstitutional changes of government, to name but a few. However, awareness of the need to focus on the less conventional threats to security in Africa arguably increased as a result of the general debate over the concept of human security. Specifically, two documents are said to have contributed significantly to increasing such awareness on the African continent, namely, the 1991 Kampala Document and the Common African Defence and Security Policy (CADSP). The former, referred to as the “first systematic African statement of the human security paradigm in Africa,”32 aimed at integrating the concepts of security, stability, development, and cooperation. The Kampala Document encouraged further interest in the matter and led to the Conference on Security, Stability, Development and Cooperation in Africa (CSSDCA).33 Eventually an MoU was adopted at the Heads of State and Government First Standing Conference on Security, Stability, Development and Cooperation in Africa in July 2002 in Durban, South Africa that noted “the centrality of security as a multidimensional phenomenon that goes beyond military considerations and embraces all aspects of human existence, including economic, political and social dimensions of individual, family, community and national life.”34 Regarding the CADSP, the Solemn Declaration on the CADSP, adopted on February 28, 2004, in Sirte, Libya, discussed common security threats, which included “inter-state conflicts/tensions,” “intra-state conflicts/ tensions,” “unstable post-conflict situations,” and “other factors that engender insecurity.” The other factors listed were the presence of refugees and IDPs; pandemics such as HIV/AIDS, Tuberculosis (TB), and Malaria; and environmental degradation.35 It could be argued that as a result of these efforts the AU increasingly complements its work on the conventional security threats with efforts to tackle new security threats on the continent, such as the challenge of refugees and IDPs, HIV/AIDS, and climate change. This section will provide a brief overview of the pan-African organization’s recent main efforts on the two sets of challenges. Traditional Security Threats Ongoing Conflicts and Crises Conflict or serious political violence has affected approximately one-third of African countries since their hard-won independence. Conflicts in Africa are caused by numerous factors and unfold in varying degrees.36 Over the years the AU has become increasingly involved in preventing, managing, and

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resolving conflicts in a clear attempt to rely less on the UN or other nonAfrican organizations for responses to crises. The AU’s efforts have come in different forms, from the PSC’s discussions on a situation and its subsequent issuing of press statements or communiqués and deploying of the organization’s high-profile officials to lead peace talks to mounting actual PSOs.37 The latter type of intervention, which is still considered as the “principal international instrument to curb conflict in Africa,”38 has, especially, demanded huge amounts of financial as well as human resources. Therefore, a brief overview of the most important PSOs mounted by the AU is warranted. The AU’s first PSO was deployed to Burundi (2003–2004) to assist that country with the implementation of the various cease-fire agreements that had been signed with rebel movements that were non-signatories to the country’s main peace agreement, the Arusha Accord of 2000. The situation on the ground at the time was not perceived as conducive by the UN for it to deploy a traditional peacekeeping mission. The African Union Mission in Burundi (AMIB) was composed of Ethiopian, Mozambican, and South African troops that supported disarmament and demobilization efforts of about 20,000 ex-combatants, advised on the reintegration of ex-combatants, and prepared the ground for the UN peacekeeping mission that eventually took over in June 2004. The military, political, and financial challenges of the AU’s first peace support mission were numerous.39 Nevertheless, it has been widely recognized that the deployment of AMIB greatly contributed to keeping the fragile Burundi peace process on track. In 2004 the AU mounted the AU Mission in Sudan (AMIS) in the Darfur region, which is to date the biggest PSO it has deployed. As the situation in the Darfur region escalated in 2003, calls for a UN peacekeeping mission intensified, which were met by a clear rejection by the Sudanese government. In light of this and following the signing of the N’djamena Humanitarian Cease-Fire Agreement in April 2004, the AU decided to deploy military observers and a small Protection Force to ensure monitoring of the implementation of the N’djamena Agreement. AMIS subsequently expanded in various phases and eventually the Mission consisted of approximately 8,000 soldiers, mostly from Rwanda and Nigeria, as well as over 1,000 civilian police. AMIS faced even more complex challenges than AMIB, and its achievements continue to be a matter of contested terrain as Darfur remains unstable to date.40 The AU subsequently teamed up with the UN in the hybrid force UNAMID (United Nations-African Union Mission in Darfur), which, unsurprisingly, also experiences difficulties despite increased resources at its disposal and an expanded mandate. An AU mission that received less attention was AMISEC, the AU Mission for Support to the Elections in the Comoros. The Indian Ocean


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archipelago had previously received support from the OAU (OAU Mission in the Comoros 1, 2, and 3—1997–1998, 2001–2002, and 2002, respectively) in response to the numerous coup d’états and the political instability that ensued. Following South African – led negotiations, the Fomboni Accords were signed in 2001. In accordance with the Accords, the Comoros organized a referendum on a new constitution. Elections were due to be held in 2006; however, there were concerns that the polls may trigger widespread violence and therefore, following a request from the Comoros president, the AU deployed AMISEC in early 2006. The Mission was expected to monitor the elections and to ensure a conducive environment for the organization of the polls, which would include verifying that the country’s security forces remained neutral during the electoral process. Although the 2006 elections proceeded without any major setbacks for the peace process, political turmoil nevertheless plagued the island of Anjouan. Accordingly, the AU Electoral and Security Assistance Mission (MAES) was deployed in May 2007, which, following persistent instability, received a new mandate but eventually concluded operations at the end of 2008.41 Somalia is home to undoubtedly the most challenging PSO of the AU, the AU Mission in Somalia (AMISOM), which was deployed in 2007 and is still operational. On January 19, 2007, the PSC decided on the need for a peacekeeping force to be deployed to Somalia, which was subsequently endorsed by the UN through the UN Security Council resolution 1744. The key aspects of AMISOM’s mandate are the protection of Somalia’s weak Transitional Federal Government and the strengthening of the country’s security structures. The Mission, which is composed of Burundian and Ugandan soldiers, is equally mandated to ensure that the desperately needed humanitarian assistance is distributed. Although the Ethiopian troops that intervened in Somalia in 2006, triggering immense armed opposition by certain Somali groups, were withdrawn at the beginning of 2009, AMISOM continues to struggle with undertaking its objectives.42 Due to the short lifespan of the PSC, the number and size of the PSOs deployed by the AU is notable (e.g., AMIB was deployed merely one year after the PSC Protocol was adopted). However, while each AU mission would have faced various challenges in light of its unique operating environment, reviews of the key AU PSOs to date have drawn various valuable generalizations on the problems faced by the AU in deploying PSOs. The greatest challenge remains the lack of resources. More specifically, the difficulty in getting commitments from African governments to make available significant numbers of soldiers has hampered or seriously delayed the deployment of PSOs. Raising the huge financial resources required for a PSO has also been a major challenge for the AU and as a result it has relied heavily on assistance from

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stakeholders outside Africa. Another difficulty for the AU concerns the mandates of PSOs. As pointed out by Paul Williams, since all of the AU PSOs to date were deployed at the invitation of the host country, the governments in question would have had considerable leverage over the negotiations on the specifics of the missions’ mandates. These processes were even further complicated in the case of AMIS and AMISOM as Sudan and Ethiopia— both involved in the conflict that each mission was meant to deal with—were members of the PSC at the time of deployment of the respective PSOs.43 Nevertheless, deploying PSOs in situations of serious instability remains one of few options for the AU and the experience it has gathered thus far would enable the organization to draw on the lessons learned and strengthen its capacity accordingly. Its experience has also lent the AU more credibility, which would assist it in convincing its Member States as well as non-African partners to increase contributions to and support for future PSOs.

Unconstitutional Changes of Government In recent years, several African countries (Mauritania, Guinea, and most recently Niger, to name but a few) have experienced serious reversals on their paths to democracy as a result of a coup d’état, or an UCG, as the phenomenon has popularly come to be known. The incident itself and the turmoil that often ensues have received the attention of the AU, which strongly condemns UCG in various policy documents such as the Lomé Declaration on the Framework for an OAU Response to Unconstitutional Changes of Government of 2000; African Charter on Democracy, Elections and Good Governance of 2007 (although this document has not yet entered into force); and the Act.44 Specifically, article 4 (p) of the Act outlines the principle of “condemnation and rejection of unconstitutional changes of governments” and accordingly article 30 on suspension states that “governments which shall come to power through unconstitutional means shall not be allowed to participate in the activities of the Union.” As previously mentioned, the PSC Protocol gives the Council the power to “institute sanctions whenever an unconstitutional change of Government takes place in a Member State, as provided for in the Lomé Declaration.”45 In response to the resurgence of UCG in Africa, the Twelfth Ordinary Session of the Assembly of Heads of State and Government adopted a decision in which it expressed concern with the situation.46 More recently, the Fourteenth Ordinary Session of the Assembly of Heads of State and Government in February 2010 adopted a decision on the matter in which it agreed on several measures to further enhance the Union’s capacity to prevent and manage UCG.47


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In accordance with the Act, several states have been suspended from participating in the Union’s activities following an UCG, including Mauritania, Guinea, Madagascar, and Niger.48 In the case of Madagascar and Mauritania, for instance, additional sanctions were imposed on selected individuals.49 Overall, it can be argued that the AU and the PSC have been consistent in condemning UCG and imposing sanctions and have thus demonstrated commitment to the various instruments dealing with the matter. However, it should be noted that the PSC is still in the process of finalizing the modalities of its Committee on Sanctions, whose establishment was agreed upon in March 2009.50 Furthermore, realizing that sanctions while essential, are not necessarily sufficient alone, the AU remains actively involved in efforts to resolve the crises in these countries. More often than not, these efforts are undertaken jointly and in collaboration with the RECs concerned. New Security Threats HIV/AIDS As pointed out by Ndinga-Muvumba, “As the leading killer of adults in Africa, HIV/AIDS represents a considerable threat to both state and human security.”51 She continues, stating that the concept of human security “approximates violent and non-violent threats to states and societies that are particularly useful for understanding the political, economic, social and cultural conditions that intersect with Africa’s HIV/AIDS epidemic.”52 As a result of the great number of deaths caused by the disease as well as its rapid spread throughout the continent, HIV/AIDS has been on the African agenda for some time now, although the first concrete and major steps toward collectively tackling the issue were taken only at the start of the twenty-first century. The Abuja Declaration on HIV/AIDS, TB and Other Related Infectious Diseases was signed in 2001, followed by the Maputo Declaration on Malaria, HIV/AIDS, TB and Other Related Infectious Diseases in 2003. In 2006 the AU organized a gathering in Abuja to examine Africa’s efforts to deal with the various diseases. It was found that “progress since 2001 has been slow and uneven”53 with only 50 percent of African countries having declared HIV/AIDS an emergency, for instance.54 Following the Abuja review, the need for an African Common Position was agreed upon by AU leaders. The Common Position, which was submitted to the UN General Assembly Special Session on HIV/AIDS in June 2006, recorded the commitment of African leaders to intensify the fight against HIV/AIDS. Concretely, the document set targets to be met by 2010, such as reducing HIV prevalence in young people by 25 percent and ensuring

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that 80 percent of orphans and vulnerable children have access to basic services and 80 percent of pregnant women have access to treatment to prevent mother-to-child transmission. African leaders also committed to allocate and effectively manage the resources required for prevention and control programs as well as reduce the tariffs and taxes on essential medicines and HIV/AIDS-related services and technologies. The AU and the RECs were called upon to follow-up the development and implementation of countries’ action plans on the matter.55 Climate Change Environmental degradation, a major consequence of climate change, has been listed in the Solemn Declaration on the CADSP as another factor that leads to insecurity. Indeed, environmental degradation may lead to, amongst others, loss of livelihoods, famine, and displacement, excluding millions of Africans from access to the basic necessities of life. In full awareness of this, the AU has undertaken several efforts to adapt to and mitigate the disastrous effects of climate change. Following the elaboration of the plan “Climate Information for Development Needs: An Action Plan for Africa—Report and Implementation Strategy,” the AU endorsed the Action Plan for Africa in a decision on Climate Change and Development in Africa at the Eighth Ordinary Session of the Assembly of Heads of State and Government in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, on January 30, 2007.56 Subsequently, in August 2009 the AU organized the Meeting of Representatives of the Conference of Heads of State and Government of the African Union on Climate Change (CAHOSCC) in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The Meeting, which was also attended by experts on the issue, sought to arrive at an African Common Position on Climate Change in preparation for the Copenhagen Climate Change Summit to be held in December 2009. The AU Commission coordinated the Meeting, upon request of the Assembly of Heads of State and Government. The Commission’s task was significant since Africa had never before expressed a common position on the issue of climate change, despite the various global summits organized on the matter in the past (Stockholm 1972, Rio de Janeiro 1992, and Johannesburg 2002).57 By September 2009, African countries concluded their discussions and presented the Africa Position on Climate Change. The 12-point document focused on, amongst other things, the need to increase Africa’s capacity to effectively undertake climate change adaptation and mitigation initiatives and to provide support for Africa’s efforts to increase energy availability as well as for the establishment of climate centers within Africa. Most importantly, the document called for an end to Africa’s marginalization in the process by enhancing Africa’s participation in market-based mechanisms to deal with the


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effects of climate change and addressing current barriers in the rules and procedures of the Clean Development Mechanism (CDM).58 Notwithstanding, the outcomes of the Copenhagen talks, the leadership role taken by the AU in forging unity amongst Africans on this pertinent issue is commendable and provides a basis from which to work for future climate change or other negotiations. Internally Displaced Persons and Refugees Africa is home to half of the global IDP population, and millions of Africans find themselves sheltered outside their countries. To accelerate the AU’s response to this challenge, the Commission appointed, in 2004, a Special Rapporteur on Refugees, Asylum Seekers and IDPs in Africa. The Rapporteur was charged with examining situations causing internal displacement as well as improving mechanisms to respond to it.59 Previously, the Executive Council had adopted a decision during its meeting in Maputo, Mozambique, on the situation of refugees, returnees, and IDPs, in which it registered its grave concern with the lack of resources required to respond to the refugee and IDP crises and requested the Commission to closely monitor the situation.60 In response to the limited progress recorded with responding to the IDP challenge as well as the legal complications surrounding the situation of IDPs, the AU organized a Special Summit for Refugees, Returnees and IDPs in Kampala in October 2009. The Summit resulted in the signing—by 17 countries—of the Convention for the Protection and Assistance of IDPs. The AU Convention is unique in the sense that it is the first legal document that promotes national and regional efforts to deal with the causes and consequences of internal displacement. The document also calls for long-term solutions and includes obligations for parties to the Convention, international organizations, and the AU. The Convention is a giant leap forward and demonstrates the Union’s commitment to respond not only to the displacement crises but also to the causes of displacement.61 Food Security The urgency to deal with the scourge of food insecurity in Africa gained momentum when Malawi’s president took over the reign from Libya’s leader Colonel Ghaddafi as the chair of the AU in early 2010. In his acceptance speech, President Mutharika highlighted the quandary of “poverty, hunger and malnutrition of large populations” and proposed that the African agenda focus on agriculture and food security under the slogan “Feeding Africa Through New Technologies: Let Us Act Now.”62 Indeed, famines are recurring phenomena in Africa, especially in the Horn of Africa and Sahel regions and countries like Burundi. As recently as March 26, 2010,

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the Sub-Committee on the Special Emergency Assistance Fund for Drought and Famine in Africa of the Union’s Permanent Representative Committee awarded $200,000 as emergency aid to the government of Burundi in response to the numerous causalities in a recurrent famine that beset the northern regions of Burundi.63 There is a renewed sense of hope that Malawi’s determination will provide a new impetus to the Union’s efforts on the matter, the most important of which was the Summit on Food Security in Africa, which took place in Abuja, Nigeria, from December 4 to 7, 2006. The Summit ended with the adoption of a declaration as well as a resolution, in which various concrete recommendations were made to combat poverty and food and nutrition insecurity in Africa, such as the promotion of inter-African trade in staple foods and the mobilization of resources to undertake urgent priority food and nutrition interventions.64 Conclusion This chapter discussed the institutional and legal framework of the AU as the organization with the primary responsibility for the promotion and maintenance of peace, security, and stability in Africa. The revamped version of the now defunct OAU, which has been in existence for less than a decade, has several innovative and arguably powerful mechanisms at its disposal, most notably the PSC, to end the scourge of conflict in Africa. As discussed, the regional organization has not been oblivious to the changing dynamics on the continent and the fact that besides conflict various other issues threaten security in Africa. The AU has taken various, sometimes even unique and groundbreaking, measures in response to the often neglected unconventional threats to security on the continent. There is certainly a determination within various corridors of power in Africa, especially at the AU Headquarters, to put in place mechanisms that would enable Africa to decisively deal with these issues, while simultaneously strengthening the capacities of those that already exist. In the ten years since the APSA was launched, there is no gainsaying in denying that Africa has been confronted with challenges that have appeared to be beyond the means of the newly established APSA. At the very same time it would be disingenuous to deny that the African political leadership has taken many commendable steps to ensure that the peoples of Africa, who are in the first place the subject of human security, live secure and safe lives. It is nevertheless fair to say that given the immense challenges facing the African continent, the AU still frequently finds itself crisis managing and forced to undertake activities in an ad hoc manner, at the cost of long-term efforts that


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would ensure that problems are addressed in a sustainable manner. It may be expected that once the organization is fully capacitated and once the various APSA pillars are fully operationalized, the Union can further improve on the timeliness and effectiveness of its responses to the various threats to security in Africa.

Notes 1. African Union, Sirte Declaration (Sirte, Libya, September 9, 1999), para 6. 2. African Union, Constitutive Act of the African Union (Lomé, Togo, July 11, 2000), 3. 3. Ibid., article 3 (f ), (i) and (j). 4. Ibid., article 3 (n). 5. Organization of African Unity, OAU Charter, adopted in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia on May 25, 1963. Article III (2). 6. Ibid., article 5 (1). 7. Ulf Engel and João Gomes Porto, “Africa’s New Peace and Security Architecture: An Introduction,” in Africa’s New Peace and Security Architecture: Promoting Norms, Institutionalizing Solutions, ed. Ulf Engel and João Gomes Porto (Surrey: Ashgate, April 2010), 5. 8. African Union, Protocol Relating to the Establishment of the Peace and Security Council of the African Union, adopted by the First Ordinary Session of the Assembly of the African Union in Durban, South Africa on July 9, 2002. 9. Ibid., 2. 10. Ibid., article 2 (1). 11. Ibid., article 3 (a), (b), (c), (d), (e) and (f ). 12. Ibid., article 7 (1) (c), (e), (g) and (r). 13. Ibid., article 5 (1) (a) and (b). 14. Ibid., article 5 (3). 15. Ibid., article 5 (2) (a), (b), (c), (d), (e), (h) and (j). 16. Ibid., article 8 (2), (6), (7), (9), (10) (a), (b) and (c), (12) and (13). 17. For a detailed review of the PSC’s functioning and activities during its first five years in existence, see Tim Murithi, Jamila El Abdellaoui, and Hallelujah Lulie, eds. The AU Peace and Security Council: A Five Year Appraisal (2004–2009) (Pretoria: Institute for Security Studies, 2010). 18. African Union, PSC Protocol, article 10 (2) (a), (c) and (3) (a). 19. Ibid., article 11. For a more detailed discussion on the Panel, see Jamila El Abdellaoui, The Panel of the Wise: A Comprehensive Introduction to a Critical Pillar of the African Peace and Security Architecture (Pretoria: Institute for Security Studies, August 2009). 20. Ibid., article 12 (2) (a), (b), (3) and (4). For more information on the CEWS, see Jakkie Cilliers, “Towards a Continental Early Warning System for Africa.” Occasional Paper 102 (Pretoria: Institute for Security Studies, April 2005).

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21. Ibid., article 13 (3). 22. J. Cilliers, The African Standby Force: An Update on Progress (Pretoria: Institute for Security Studies: March 2008), 2–3. For a more recent update on the ASF, see Solomon A. Dersso, The Role and Place of the African Standby Force within the African Peace and Security Architecture (Pretoria: Institute for Security Studies: January 2010). 23. African Union, PSC Protocol, article 21 (2) and (1). 24. African Union, Memorandum of Understanding on Cooperation in the Area of Peace and Security Between the African Union, the Regional Economic Communities and the Coordinating Mechanisms of the Regional Standby Brigades of Eastern Africa and Northern Africa, 2007. 25. African Union, The New Partnership for Africa’s Development, 2003, http://www. africa-union.org/root/au/AUC/SpecialPrograms/nepad/nepad.htm (26 March 2010). 26. Ibid. 27. NEPAD, New Partnership for Africa’s Development Framework, October 2001, 9, para 43. 28. African Union, The New Partnership for Africa’s Development. 29. NEPAD, Framework, 16, para 73. 30. Ibid., 17–21. 31. African Union, Decision on the Integration of the New Partnership for Africa’s Development (NEPAD) into the Structures and Processes of the African Union including the Establishment of the NEPAD Planning and Coordinating Agency (NPCA), adopted by the Fourteenth Ordinary Session of the Assembly of Heads of State and Government in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia on February 2, 2010, 5 (a) (i) and (ii). 32. Eboe Hutchful, “From Military Security to Human Security,” in The African Union and its Institutions, eds. John Akokpari, Angela Ndinga-Muvumba, and Tim Murithi (Johannesburg: Jacana, 2008), 75. 33. Ibid. 34. African Union, Memorandum of Understanding on Security, Stability, Development and Cooperation in Africa, adopted at the Heads of State and Government First Standing Conference on Security, Stability, Development and Cooperation in Africa, July 8–9, 2002, Durban, South Africa, Section I (b). 35. African Union, Solemn Declaration on a Common African Defence and Security Policy, adopted at the Second Extraordinary Session of the Assembly of Heads of State and Government in Sirte, Libya on February 28, 2004, Section Common Security Threats, article 8 (i), (ii), (iii), (iv) (n), (q) and (r). 36. A.A. Mazrui, “Conflict in Africa: An Overview,” in The Roots of African Conflicts: The Causes and Costs, ed. A. Nhema and P. Tiyambe Zeleza (Oxford: James Currey Ltd, 2008), 36. 37. P. Godrey Okoth, “Conflict Resolution in Africa: The Role of the OAU & the AU,” in The Resolution of African Conflicts: The Management of Conflict Resolution & Post-Conflict Reconstruction, ed. A. Nhema, and P. Tiyambe Zeleza (Oxford: James Currey Ltd, 2008), 33–35.


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38. P.D. Williams, “Lessons Learned from Peace Operations in Africa,” Africa Security Brief, No. 3, April 2010. 39. P.D. Williams, “The African Union’s Peace Operations: A Comparative Analysis,” African Security 2, No. 2–3, May-December 2009, 98. 40. Ibid., 101. 41. Ibid., 105. 42. Ibid., 107. 43. Ibid., 111–113. 44. Issaka Souaré, The AU and the Challenge of Unconstitutional Changes of Government in Africa (Pretoria: Institute for Security Studies, August 2009), 1. 45. Article 7 (1) (g). 46. African Union, Decision on the Resurgence of the Scourge of Coups d’Etat in Africa, adopted at the Twelfth Ordinary Session of the Assembly of Heads of State and Government from February 1–4, 2009, in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. 47. African Union, Decision on the Prevention of Unconstitutional Changes of Government and Strengthening the Capacity of the African Union to Manage such Situations, adopted at the Fourteenth Ordinary Session of the Assembly of Heads of State and Government from January 31-February 2, 2010 in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. 48. See, respectively, African Union, Communiqué of the 144th Meeting of the Peace and Security Council, August 7, 2008, African Union, Communiqué of the 165th Meeting of the Peace and Security Council, December 29, 2008, African Union, Communiqué of the 181st Meeting of the Peace and Security Council, March 20, 2009 and African Union, Communiqué of the 216th Meeting of the Peace and Security Council, February 19, 2010. 49. African Union, Draft List of Members of the Institutions and Individual Members of the Rajoelina Camp and Entities Whose Action Impede the AU and SADC Efforts to Restore Constitutional Order in Madagascar, 2010 and African Union, Communiqué of the 182nd Meeting of the Peace and Security Council, March 24, 2009. 50. See African Union, Communiqué of the 178th Meeting of the Peace and Security Council, March 13, 2009. 51. Angela Ndinga-Muvumba, “Accelerating the Response: An Evolving African HIV/AIDS Policy?” in The African Union and Its Institutions, ed. John Akokpari, Angela Ndinga-Muvumba, and Tim Murithi (Johannesburg: Jacana, 2008), 164. 52. Ibid. 53. Ibid., 170. 54. Ibid. 55. African Union, Africa’s Common Position to the UN General Assembly Special Session on AIDS (June 2006), adopted at the Special Summit of African Union on HIV/AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria (ATM) in Abuja, Nigeria, May 2–4, 2006. 56. Economic Commission for Africa, Fact Sheet, Africa Climate Advisory Bulletin, http://www.uneca.org/eca_programmes/sdd/events/climate/FACT-SHEET-AU summit.pdf.

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57. AllAfrica.com, African Common Position on Climate Change in Africa, August 25, 2009, http://allafrica.com/stories/200908250010.html. 58. African Union, Africa Position on Climate Change, 2009, http://www.un.org/esa/ sustdev/csd/csd15/statements/africa_cc.pdf. 59. Francis Deng, “Africa’s Internally Displaced Persons,” in The African Union and its Institutions, ed. John Akokpari, Angela Ndinga-Muvumba, and Tim Murithi (Johannesburg: Jacana, 2008), 199. 60. African Union, Executive Council Decision on the Situation of Refugees, Returnees and Displaced Persons (Doc.EX/CL/44 (III)), 2003. 61. Reliefweb, Member states sign AU Convention for the protection and assistance of internally displaced persons, October 23, 2009, http://www.reliefweb.int/rw/ rwb.nsf/db900SID/MYAI-7X6B5X?OpenDocument. 62. African Union, Acceptance Speech by His Excellency Dr. Bingu Wa Mutharika, President of the Republic of Malawi, On His Election as the Chairman of the Assembly of the African Union, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, January 31, 2010, 18. 63. African Union, Emergency Aid for Burundi and Uganda, Press Release No. 50/2010, April 6, 2010, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. 64. African Union, Resolution of the Abuja Food Security Summit, December 7, 2006, Abuja, Nigeria. See also, African Union, Declaration of the Abuja Food Security Summit, December 7, Abuja, Nigeria.

CHAPTER 2

Refugees and Internally Displaced Persons: From Humanitarian to Security Paradigm Jack Mangala

Introduction At the beginning of 2009, the world population of refugees stood at 15 million, with another 26 million internally displaced persons (IDPs), a numerical differential that tends to suggest a growing trend toward internalization of forced displacement in the post-Cold War era. Africa’s share of this global tragedy was estimated at 2.1 million refugees and 6.3 million IDPs, which means that about 8 million individuals have been uprooted and are on the move at the present time in Africa.1 Although, in contrast with global trends, the number of refugees in the region is on the decline—we will recall that Africa was labeled “the continent of refugees” in the 1980s—the current situation still calls attention to the magnitude of the problem and its political, social, economic, and security implications for Africa. Of particular concern from a security standpoint, as we shall see, is the extent of protracted refugee situations (PRS) across the continent. Nearly 98 percent of refugees in Africa have been trapped in exile for protracted periods. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) defines PRS as “one in which refugees find themselves in a long-lasting and intractable state of limbo. Their lives may not be at risk, but their basic rights and essential economic, social and psychological needs remain unfulfilled after years in exile. A refugee in this situation is often unable to break free from enforced reliance on external assistance.”2

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Major PRS in Africa are found in Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, Sudan, Guinea, Ethiopia, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Algeria, Burundi, Cameroon, Egypt, Rwanda, and Zambia. Methodologically, it is worth noting that to identify PRS, the UNHCR uses the “crude measure of refugee populations of 25,000 persons or more who have been in exile for five or more years.”3 Refugees and IDPs represent the two faces of the phenomenon of forced displacement of populations. While the former have crossed their national state’s international borders in search of protection elsewhere, the latter have stayed within the confines of their national state. The sovereignty implication that derives from the simple act of crossing national borders is the fundamental reason why the international community has developed different sets of policies and legal instruments for each group, even though the causes of displacement and the needs for protection are often similar. Refugees represent a long established category, protected through an elaborated institutional and legal regime supported by the UNHCR and specific legally binding instruments—the 1951 Geneva Convention related to the Status of Refugees and its 1967 protocol—which have been complemented, at the regional level, by the 1969 Organization of African Unity (OAU) Refugee Convention. The latter, among other things, extended the definition of refugee provided for in the UN instrument to include situations of mass displacement that are more characteristic of the phenomenon on the continent. By contrast, IDPs represent a newly recognized category whose protection, outside the realm of general human rights conventions, rests on a soft law instrument—the Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement—adopted by the UN Commission on Human Rights in 1998.4 The UNHCR has, over time, extended its protection to IDPs, even though the latter are not formally covered by the original mandate of the organization. Recently, the African Union (AU) has sought to fill IDPs’ protection gap through the adoption, in 2009, of the Convention for the Protection and Assistance of IDPs in Africa, which is however yet to enter into force.5 Despite this difference in regime, both refugees and IDPs are rightly referred to as “vulnerable populations” because forced displacement, be it external or internal, leads to vulnerability often expressed in the form of gross violations of human rights, economic insecurity, food insecurity, environmental insecurity, diseases, and personal insecurity caused by physical and sexual violence, especially among the female population. Long treated and approached primarily as a humanitarian problem—a by-product of wars and interstate conflicts that dominated world politics throughout most of the twentieth century—the question of refugees has been

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increasingly viewed through a security prism since the end of the Cold War. The center of gravity of the conceptual, policy, and operational frameworks through which the questions of refugees in particular and forced displacement in general are addressed has moved from humanitarian to security concerns. Refugees are increasingly referred to as a “threat” to national as well regional and international peace and security, and states have subsequently deployed a wide array of policies and engaged in new practices, often in violation of established legal standards, aimed at containing perceived threats from refugees and other displaced persons. The trend toward the securitization of refugee discourse and policy has been reinforced by the terrorist attacks of September 11 in the United States, which lent a semblance of legitimacy to the proponents of restrictive policies toward refugees and tougher immigration laws in general. This chapter will discuss the securitization debate with a particular reference to PRS in Africa. It is divided into three sections. The first section investigates the slow erosion of the humanitarian character of asylum. The second section probes the securitization of refugees and IDPs and assesses national and international responses to the security challenges posed by these populations. The third section seeks to enlarge the security paradigm in the search for durable solutions for refugees and IDPs and formulate some policy recommendations. I argue in substance that the introduction of a security paradigm represents a realistic approach toward PRS and IDPs in that it makes it possible to analytically and operationally bridge the gap between forced displacement and security. I subsequently contend, however, that it is imperative to go beyond the current narrow focus on state security and frame the forced displacement-security nexus in a holistic manner predicated on human security as an integrative approach that brings to bear a wide range of actors and assets in a coordinated search for durable solutions for refugees and IDPs. While it is necessary to revive and maintain the humanitarian character of asylum, it would be counterproductive to approach refugees and IDPs solely through the humanitarian prism. These groups of populations are connected to broad security concerns and dynamics that have been long ignored by researchers and policymakers. Erosion of Humanitarian Character of Asylum The current refugee regime traces its origin back to the international political concerns around large-scale refugee movements in interwar Europe due to a succession of economic, social, and political events that led to the disintegration of the Habsburg, Romanov, and Ottoman empires; the Russian-Polish War; and the Soviet famine of 1921. Mass movements of refugees created

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by these events became a major source of tensions that threatened to engulf European states. To settle these tensions and provide a collective response to the refugee situation in Europe, an international refugee regime was established within the institutional framework of the League of Nations.6 Europe would again find itself dealing with similar concerns after WWII, which uprooted over 12 million people; they sought refuge in various states, whose capacities to deal with a massive influx of displaced people were seriously emaciated as a result of war. In response to this worrying security and humanitarian situation, the UNHCR was established in 1950, and a convention outlining both states and refugees rights and obligations was adopted in 1951, laying the ground for the current refugee regime. This institutional and legal development underlines the tension between protecting refugees and ensuring state security. States were mindful of the fact that the protection of refugees should not, under any circumstance, undermine the security of the state. This consideration is reflected, for example, in Article 1F of the 1951 Refugee Convention, which excludes from the benefit of refugee status any person with respect to whom there are serious grounds for assuming that he or she has committed a war crime, a serious nonpolitical crime, or acts contrary to the purposes and principles of the United Nations. Even the benefit of the sacrosanct principle of non-refoulement—which forms the most fundamental obligation of states under the terms of Article 33 of the Convention—may not “be claimed by a refugee whom there are reasonable grounds for regarding as a danger to the security of the country in which he is, or who, having been convicted by a final judgment of a particular serious crime, constitutes a danger to the community of that country (Article 33 (2)).” In contrast to the 1951 Convention, the 1969 OAU Convention declares the principle of non-refoulement without exception. No formal concession is made to overriding considerations of national security, although in cases of difficulties “in continuing to grant asylum” appeal may be made directly to other member states and through the OAU. Article II of the Convention then makes provisions for temporary residence pending resettlement, although its grant is not mandatory. The consecration of the principle of non-refoulement without exception in the OAU Convention is particularly significant because the latter was adopted two years after the UN Declaration on Territorial Asylum in which the General Assembly, in its Article 3, not only acknowledges the national security exception, but also seems to allow further exceptions “in order to safeguard the population, as in the case of a mass influx of persons.”7 On the general question of the legality of measures that would be justified in situations of mass influx, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) has made clear that, while the essential interests of the state


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may include its own and its population’s security, the threat occasioned by a grave and imminent peril must be objectively established and not merely apprehended. The state’s response will be excluded, however, if other lawful means are available, even if more costly and less convenient. Moreover, as the Court has emphasized elsewhere, the concept of necessity implies and permits only what is strictly necessary for the purpose.8 The tension between state security and protection of IDPs also transpires in the recently adopted AU Convention for the Protection and Assistance of Internally Displaced People (Kampala Convention), whose preamble reads, “We heads of state and government of the member states of the African Union . . . Conscious of the gravity of the situation of IDPs as a source of continuing instability and tension for African states; also conscious of the suffering and specific vulnerability of IDPs.” Even though the security implications of refugee movements were very much in the mind of states signatories to the 1951 Refugee Convention and the 1969 OAU Convention, in both cases states sought to reaffirm the humanitarian character of asylum. In the former, the parties expressed “the wish that all States, recognizing the social and humanitarian nature of the problem of refugees will do everything within their power to prevent this problem from becoming a cause of tension between States” (Preamble). State parties were even more explicit in the latter, whose preamble reads, 1. Noting with concern the constant increasing numbers of refugees in Africa and desirous of finding ways and means of alleviating their misery and suffering as well as providing them with a better life and future, 2. Recognizing the need for an essentially humanitarian approach towards solving the problem of refugees, 3. Aware, however, that refugee problems are a source of friction among any Member States, and desirous of eliminating the source of such discord, 4. Anxious to make a distinction between a refugee who seeks a peaceful and normal life and a person fleeing his country for the sole purpose of fomenting subversion from outside. These pronouncements reflected a broader conceptual and analytical framework through which the question of forced displacement was approached throughout the Cold War and which posited forced displacement primarily as a consequence of war, a by-product of conflict, not a cause of it. In some

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respects, the broader ideological and strategic contexts of the Cold war provided a convenient justification to the humanitarian approach to the refugee problem. Gil Loescher and James Milner eloquently capture the ideological and strategic backdrop that sustained the treatment of the refugee issue throughout the Cold War: During the Cold War, forced migration constituted one of the central concerns of US and Western foreign policies. Refugees were seen as part of the global struggle between East and West. Refugees fleeing communism were portrayed as “voting with their feet.” In the interest of exploiting the ideological and propaganda benefits of such movements, the West responded through generous burden-sharing and settlement schemes . . . Refugees and the security problems they raised were addressed as part of a broader and wider set of geo-political considerations and understanding of security based on two assumptions: that most threats to a state’s security arose from outside its borders; and that these threats were primarily if not exclusively military in nature and required a political if not military response. Thus, while specific refugee groups were perceived as assets or liabilities in a number of Cold War crises, the logic of the Cold War was bound by a highly constrained notion of security which did not see migration as a central issue.9

Since the end of the Cold War, these assumptions have been revisited and questioned, and forced migration has moved from the periphery to the center of the security discourse. The increased securitization of refugee and IDP discourse and practices signals, in many respects, the “end” for some, the “erosion” for others, of the humanitarian character of asylum, which has been the underlying framework from the inception of the Refugee Convention in 1951 to the late 1980s. Securitization of Refugee and IDP Discourse and Practices The international security environment changed substantially with the end of the Cold War. Addressing the UN Security Council at the first summit-level meeting of the post-Cold War era, the president of the Council articulated what was emerging as the dominant security thinking from the member states of the organization by asserting that “the non-military sources of instability in the economic, social, humanitarian and ecological fields have become threats to international peace and security.”10 Within this new analytical framework, the security implications of refugee movements in particular and forced displacement in general was a high priority in the political and security agenda of states, and regional and international organizations in trying to respond to some of the most important humanitarian crises that unfolded around the world, especially in Africa, in the 1990s.11 From Iraq, Somalia, Bosnia


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and Herzegovina, Kosovo to Rwanda, the UN Security Council consistently referred to potential destabilizing effects from mass movements of refugees as a threat to international peace and security, thus justifying its decisions on the basis of Chapter VII. The UNHCR also embraced the new security paradigm in the formulation of its post-Cold War policies and responses toward the refugee problem. For Gil Loescher, the embrace of the security discourse by the UNHCR was, in part, an exercise in self-preservation on the part of the refugee agency trying to navigate a rapidly evolving international context. He writes: “The fundamental changes in states’ attitudes towards security at the end of the Cold War presented UNHCR with an opportunity to make itself more relevant to the international community. To demonstrate its relevance, the Office began to present its own work more in terms of contributing to regional and international peace and security. UNHCR believed that by appealing to states’ security concerns it could convince policy-makers to direct political and financial resources towards finding solutions to refugee and IDP situations.”12 For the UNHCR and African states, the magnitude of the refugee crisis in the wake of the Rwandan genocide in 1994 and its subsequent destabilizing effects on the whole Great Lakes region represented a turning point that invalidated some of the UNHCR’s assumptions regarding the expected operational benefits of its security discourse on the one hand and crystallized African countries’ concerns about the threats that mass movements of refugees could pose to their own security on the other hand. In many respects, the crisis of refugees in the Great Lakes region provided a momentum to the securitization movement in two different directions. First, for the UNHCR and other international actors, especially NGOs, this crisis showed the limits of a security discourse that was too centered on state security, and it led to the realization that appealing to state security was not a guarantee for action. The crisis of refugees in the Great Lakes convinced the UNHCR of the urgency to deepen its security discourse by emphasizing humanitarian concerns and framing the refugee-security nexus more in terms of human security in an attempt “to reconcile the security concerns of states, the protection needs of refugees, and the security needs of its staff. By drawing on the concept of human security, UNHCR sought to demonstrate that the real security of states and the international community could only be achieved by providing security for people.”13 But for states in the region and beyond, the crisis of refugees in the Great Lakes provided an opportunity to place the state at the heart of the developing security debate and pursue restrictive policies that would ensure that the economic, social, political, environmental, and security threats represented by refugees could be contained or preempted, if necessary outside

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of conventional frameworks and established international standards.14 Can these two approaches be reconciled? What are the specific security threats that refugees pose to the state in Africa? How can they be conceptualized? What are the state, regional, and international responses that have been developed in reaction to these threats? Can these responses lead to durable solutions to the refugee and IDP problem, and ultimately contribute to genuine peace and security in Africa? What have been their impacts on refugee protection and the integrity of the regional and international refugee regimes? These questions will be answered in the remaining part of the section with a particular reference to the human rights, and political and security implications of PRS in Kenya, Tanzania, and Guinea, which will be used as case studies to illustrate the challenges posed by this particular group of refugees.15 But, before that, it is important that we first succinctly discuss some of the conceptual problems related to the definition of PRS and probe the meaning of the notion of “security” in the particular political, economic, and historical context of host states in Africa. For a long time, the international community did primarily focus its efforts and actions on refugee emergency situations as they unfolded across the world, providing much needed humanitarian assistance until the next crisis emerged in another corner of the world. Confined mostly in scattered camps at the margins of societies, long-lasting refugee populations stayed off the radar of the international community even though they represented the majority of the world’s refugee population—about 60 percent—in the 1990s. A systematic study of PRS and their implications for the host states has been undertaken only in the past decade, helping to move the issue up on the policy agenda.16 PRS working definition provided by the UNHCR refers to a condition “in which refugees find themselves in a long-lasting and intractable state of limbo. Their lives may not be at risk, but their basic human rights and essential economic, social and psychological needs remain unfulfilled after years in exile. A refugee in this situation is often unable to break free from enforced reliance on external assistance.”17 In PRS, the populations concerned are no longer facing an emergency situation but they don’t foresee any durable solutions to their plight and are trapped, sometimes for decades, in what was supposed to be a temporary situation. The UNHCR uses the “crude measure of refugee populations of 25,000 persons or more who have been in exile for five or more years” to identify major PRS. While the UNHCR definition attempts to delineate the contours of a PRS, it lacks precision and doesn’t convey the complexity of PRS, in particular with regard to the agency of refugee populations, who are often actively “engaged in identifying their own solutions, either through political and


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military activities in their countries of origin or through seeking means for onward migration to the West.”18 By it own accounts, the UNHCR has admitted that “a definition of PRS should . . . include not only the humanitarian elements of the phenomenon but also its political and strategic aspects. In addition, a definition must recognize that countries of origin, host countries and the international community are all implicated in the causes of protracted refugee situations.”19 When debating security in the African context, it is necessary to locate the discussion within the parameters of the particular vulnerabilities and dynamics affecting states in the region. The concept of vulnerability is central to the definition of security outlined by Mohammed Ayood in relation to governments in the developing world. For Ayood, “security or insecurity is defined in relation to vulnerabilities, both internal and external, that threaten to, or have the potential to bring down or significantly weaken state structures, both territorial and institutional, and regimes.”20 This definition is particularly useful in our understanding of the security threats posed by PRS. Those security threats must be articulated in reference with the particular historical trajectory and current status of African states in the broader international system. Given their underdevelopment and still peripheral position in the international system, many African states that host PRS tend to demonstrate the following vulnerabilities: poor governance, economic weakness, external dependency, porous borders, hostile relations with neighboring states, and an overall inability to insulate themselves from the spillover effect of conflict.21 PRS seem to amplify these vulnerabilities in many significant ways, thus further weakening host states. Most studies devoted to PRS have identified both direct and indirect threats to the security of host states. According to Gil Loescher and James Milner, direct threats posed by PRS are linked to various causes and dynamics, including the spillover effect of conflict on the host state and the presence of “refugee warriors” as illustrated in the 1994 genocide in Rwanda and the ensuing political turmoil and security predicament in the Great Lakes region. The outbreak of conflict and genocide in the Great Lakes region was a vivid demonstration of what can happen if the international community is not committed to finding durable solutions to long-standing refugee problems. Tutsis who fled Rwanda between 1959 and 1962 and their descendants provided the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) with a stable recruiting basis that was instrumental in its ability to invade Rwanda from Uganda in October 1990. The majority of combatants in the ranks of RPF were refugees who had been living in the region for more than three decades. Looking into the root causes of the Rwandan genocide, the UNHCR has assessed that the “failure to address

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the problems of the Rwandan refugees in the 1960s contributed substantially to the cataclysmic violence of the 1990s.”22 PRS have also directly exacerbated the security situation of failed states, as demonstrated in the case of Somalia and other states facing warlordism as an alternative source of legitimacy and authority. Such was the case, for example, in Liberia in the late 1990s and early 2000s. In these two contexts, armed groups took advantage of the humanitarian character of refugee camps to blend with the refugee population, recruit combatants, and use the camps as bases for guerilla, insurgent, and other terrorist activities.23 Protracted refugee populations in urban settings pose specific direct security threats in the form of, among other things, gangs, criminal and other illicit activities such as prostitution; human trafficking; and trade in small arms, narcotics, and diamonds, all of which can heighten tensions and place a strain on the political and diplomatic relations between the regional states.24 For example, the long-term impact of protracted refugees from Burundi in Tanzania along with allegations that antigovernment armed movements were hiding in refugee camps resulted in a significant deterioration of relations in 2000–2002 between the two countries, coming close to a full-blown war. PRS may also raise indirect security threats to the host state, especially in regard to the relationship between refugees and the local population. The UNHCR captures the various dynamics conducive to such threats: “Tensions between refugees and the local population often arise from the belief that refugees receive preferential treatment. This is especially the case when the local people have difficulty accessing health, education or other services while such services are readily available to refugees in camps. As donor support for camp-based refugees decreases, however, competition between refugees and the host population for scarce resources creates insecurity. In the same way, reductions in assistance in the camps may lead some refugees to turn to banditry, prostitution and theft.”25 In light of these perceived direct and indirect security threats emanating from PRS, many host state governments in Africa now view refugees in their territory almost exclusively through a security prism, and they have been advocating solutions to PRS and enacting decisions that are equally security oriented, and that have further undermined the tradition of asylum in Africa and some fundamental human rights of refugees. For example, in reaction to security threats from Somali refugees in Kenya (flow of small arms, banditry, and supposed link to terrorism26 ), the Kenyan government has been handling this PRS exclusively as a security challenge—closing refugee camps that were located close to urban centers; forcing refugees to return home—where the humanitarian and security situation was less than desirable—and transferring camps to remote and isolated areas of the country. As a matter of fact, the


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relocation of camps to those areas put them both physically and politically at the periphery of the Kenyan state, a process that has contributed to further marginalization of Somali refugee communities in the country. Similarly, Tanzania, which was once considered a model for asylum and refugee protection in Africa, has now shifted its policies toward Burundian refugees to a security management and operational framework. Acting on perceived security threats from Burundian refugee communities (militarization of camps, drug smuggling, environmental degradation, arms trafficking, rise in urban gun crime), the Tanzanian government has adopted a battery of restrictive policies and measures aimed at constricting refugee movements, confining refugees in certain areas of the country, while seeking ultimately their repatriation to Burundi and the establishment of “safe havens” to house Burundian refugees in their country of origin in case the security situation there doesn’t warrant a repatriation process in accordance with established international legal standards.27 The same considerations have also been at full display in Guinea’s response toward the refugee crisis in the country between 1997 and 2003. Prior to that, it is worth recalling, Guinea was a relatively stable country in an otherwise conflict-prone region. The government did practice a policy of free settlement toward the majority of refugees, who were allowed to live outside of camps. The spillover of the conflicts in Liberia and Sierra Leone, which made refugees “part of the logic of war,” led to a substantial change in Guinea’s attitude toward refugees and a sharp revision of its open door policy. In addition to specific direct and indirect threats attributed to refugees, the government was responding to the widespread “perception that Guinea was using asylum as a means of supporting parties to the conflicts in Sierra Leone and Liberia.”28 Understandably, political and military forces inside Sierra Leone and Liberia tried, in turn, to counter this support through military incursions into Guinea and other activities targeting refugee populations in this country. This was particularly true in the case of Charles Taylor, whose elements were behind several cross-border incursions into Guinea, resulting in the killing of about 80 Guinean civilians in 2000. This tragic event and the ensuing sharp address to the nation by President Lansana Conté about the destabilizing impacts and security threats posed by refugees marked a turning point in both the government policy and the general attitude of the local population toward refugees. Arbitrary detentions, evictions from homes, physical and sexual abuses, and deaths were a vivid illustration of this change in policy and attitude, and a preview of worse things to come.29 While acknowledging the primary responsibility of host state governments regarding the security of their countries, it is fair to admit that the wave of restrictive policies implemented in many host states over the past decade has

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led to precarious situations with devastating consequences in terms of the human rights of refugee populations, especially regarding the confinement of refugees in isolated, overcrowded, and unsecure camps. This particular trend, also referred to as “warehousing” of refugees, stands in clear violation of the most basic rights of these already vulnerable populations under international human rights conventions in general and specific refugee instruments, which guarantee, among other rights, the freedom of movement and the right to seek wage-earning employment. Aimed at securing states and insulating them from perceived threats from refugees, the aforementioned actions by host states have only exacerbated refugee populations’ vulnerabilities in a number of vital areas.30 Evidence seems to suggest that they haven’t made the states any safer. What is needed is an enlargement of the security paradigm in the search for durable solutions for refugees and IDPs. Enlarging the Security Paradigm in the Search for Durable Solutions Since the tragedy of the Rwandan genocide and the ensuing mass movements of refugees that threatened many of the neighboring states in the Great Lakes region, the UNCHR and other international actors have tragically realized the limitations of their early focus on state security in the emerging security paradigm. The UNHCR in particular has gone a long way to reframe its security discourse in terms of human security—the security of people—as the ultimate test of security. As former commissioner Sadako Ogata states: “Human security is not an abstract idea—it is a real, tangible need. . . . We should not look at human security just from the point of view of theory and definition, but rather examine what practical steps and measures can enable us to maintain people in, or restore them to, a state of security. In other words, ‘human security’ should be a conceptual tool that leads to action.”31 This policy inflection underscores a growing understanding and consensus that the security of states is better achieved through people’s security; the security of states can rest on solid foundations only when the security of people is fully realized and remains a constant preoccupation of policymakers. An analysis of policies developed by the governments of Kenya, Tanzania, and Guinea to counter the perceived security threats from refugees has indicated that governments’, and to a large extent the international community’s, approach to the problem is still very much state centric. Policies have been aimed first and foremost at protecting those states and the many interests they represent. While we must recognize the legitimate interests of states and the fact that in our still state-centric international system—predicated on the Wesphalian


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model—the state is the primary provider of security, it is conceptually flawed and analytically self-defeating to make the state the primary referent object of security. In that sense, the emergence of the security discourse around refugee issues—which is based on overwhelming scholarly evidence that refugees can be both a cause and consequence of conflict and insecurity—is a welcoming development that needs, however, to be enlarged to fully integrate the enriching perspectives and approaches of the human security concept in the current security paradigm. I will argue that, while imperfect, the human security concept offers a better vantage point from which to tackle refugee security-related problems in reference to the legitimate needs of the host state, the state of origin, the local population in both countries, and the refugees themselves, whose experience with forced displacement represents a call to uphold the imperatives of humanity in the face of states’ constant quest for an elusive sense of security that only reinforces the security dilemma they are trapped in. The quest for security has led many states to adopt draconian measures toward refugees by cantoning them in camps, sometimes for decades, and often in subhuman conditions. This situation of political, economic, and social marginalization has led in turn, in many instances, to a radicalization of these populations and their involvement in various survival strategies that have come to threaten the security of states, leaving them no more secured than prior to the original course of actions. The human security concept can help alleviate this dilemma by broadening the terms of reference of the security discourse and reorienting the search for durable solutions. The human security concept is predicated on a number of premises that can be particularly useful in seeking durable solutions for refugees and IDPs. As the UNHCR notes, The new view of human security highlights the interdependent nature of the security threats in refugee situations. It recognizes that long-term state security is ultimately dependent on the security provided to non-state actors such as refugees and that, inversely, refugee protection may be impossible in situations of acute and continuous state insecurity. The new perspective on human security also links the security concerns of individuals and communities to a wider range of threats including, but not restricted to physical violence . . . protection now means safeguarding not just the physical integrity but also the human dignity of every refugee.32

In its dual function as an agenda-setting and an approach, human security seeks in substance to address the question of security in a holistic and an integrative manner that focuses on prevention; it connects diverse set of issues in

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a broad security agenda that has humans as a reference point and uses the reallife impacts of decisions on affected populations as a metric of security. In that sense, human security represents a critical approach as it looks at security not in abstract terms but “from the perspective of affected individuals.”33 The human security concept has also become part of the AU security paradigm as vividly expressed by the Heads of State and Government at the First Standing Conference on Security, Stability, Development, and Cooperation in Africa, when noting “the centrality of security as a multidimensional phenomenon that goes beyond military considerations and embraces all aspects of human existence, including economic, political and social dimensions of individual, family, community and national life.”34 At the operational level, the concept of human security has been slowly impacting the UNHCR and other international actors’ attempts in finding practical solutions to security challenges posed by PRS. For example, in response to high levels of insecurity around the Dadaab camps in Kenya, more specifically the alarming number of rapes against women who were spending a great deal of time gathering firewood for cooking, the UNHCR launched the firewood project in 1998, aimed, among other things, at providing families with a supply of firewood within the perimeters of the camps in order to reduce exposure to physical vulnerabilities associated with time spent outside camps in search of firewood. This project, which integrated in a coordinated response security, environmental and development concerns, is believed to have helped sensibly reduce direct security threats to the refugee populations and indirect security threats to the Kenyan state.35 What is, however, missing in the case of Somali refugees in Kenya as in other PRS in Africa is a comprehensive strategy to address this plight in a holistic manner that reconciles both refugees’ vulnerabilities and states’ security needs. The two are not antithetic. The human security concept has also infused and enriched the recent debate that led to the adoption, in October 2009, of the Kampala Convention for the Protection and Assistance of IDPs in Africa. The impact of human security transpires though several key provisions of the Convention. For example, while the Convention (Art. 4.1) affirms the leading role and responsibility of national governments to protect and assist IDPs and prevent and avoid conditions that might lead to the arbitrary displacement of persons, it also (Art. 8.1) asserts the right of the AU to intervene in member states in case of grave circumstances such as war crimes, genocide, and crimes against humanity, all of which are situations that can lead to massive forced displacement. As such, the Convention offers the first articulation, in a legally binding instrument, of the principle of “sovereignty as responsibility” and its corollary the “responsibility to protect,” which represents an important normative output of the human security debate, intended to


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legitimize external intervention where a state fails to protect people at risk.36 The critical idea is that states are only entitled to respect of their sovereignty if they respect the fundamental rights of their inhabitants. In addition, the Convention links the plight of forced displacement to “peace, stability, security, and development” on the continent (Preamble). Preventing and solving the phenomenon of IDPs is framed as an integral part of the AU’s broad security and development agenda. Another groundbreaking aspect of the Convention that directly stems from human security’s integrative approach is the formal recognition that armed conflict and other situations of generalized violence are not the only causes of displacement. The Convention adopts a more comprehensive approach which includes both natural and man-made disasters that trigger displacement. It also prohibits displacement caused by development projects, including exploration and exploitation of natural resources, while requiring states to provide compensation and other forms of reparations to remedy the harm suffered by persons as a result of their displacement (Arts.10 and 12). All these developments point toward the need to transcend the dominant parameters of the security discourse surrounding refugees and IDPs and achieve a balance between state security and human security. Conclusion: Balancing State Security and Human Security This chapter has attempted to probe the nexus between security and refugees and IDPs in the evolving security discourse. Refugees and IDPs have consistently figured among the new threats that define the post-Cold War security environment. The UN Security Council has referred to refugee and internal mass displacement situations as threats to national, regional, and international peace and security. Other UN agencies, in particular the UNCHR, have also embraced the new security discourse. States, both in the developed world and in Africa, have expressed legitimate security concerns in relation to refugees and IDPs, devised new conceptual tools, and implemented a battery of strategies aimed at containing perceived security threats from these populations. The old humanitarian paradigm through which the question of refugees was addressed throughout the Cold War did not, for ideological and strategic reasons convenient to Western states and their allies, factor the security implications of refugee populations, who were essentially approached as a byproduct of wars and conflicts and thus confined to the margin of the security paradigm of the Cold War. The post-Cold War security paradigm recognizes that refugees and other forced displaced persons can be both a cause and consequence of insecurity.

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This chapter has argued that while it is important to recognize that states have legitimate security concerns in regard to refugee populations. However, I have demonstrated, both from a conceptual and an operational standpoint, that the narrow focus on state security as the primary referent object will not lead to the security that states seek to achieve. The battery of increasingly restrictive measures that have been deployed—many of which violate the most basic human rights of and exacerbate refugees and IDPs’ vulnerability—doesn’t account for a long-term solution to the problem. A deconstruction of the security discourse on refugees and IDPs has shown that claims for security have mostly focused on the security of the state as the primary referent object. Threats to security have primarily been framed as threats to the security of the state. My central contention has been that human security—with its integrative approach and focus on real-life implications of decisions on the affected populations – offers a better vantage point from which to effectively respond to the security concerns expressed by states. The search for durable solutions to refugee and IDP situations must be informed by a human security approach that transcends the terms of reference of the current state-centric security discourse.

Notes 1. UNHCR, 2008 Global Trends: Refugees, Asylum-seekers, Returnees, Internally Displaced and Stateless Persons, Geneva, June 19, 2009. 2. UNHCR, Executive Committee, Protracted Refugee Situations, Standing Committee, 30th Meeting, UN Doc. EC/54/SC/CRP.14, June 10, 2004, p. 1. 3. Ibid., 2. 4. United Nations, Commission on Human Rights, The Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement, UN Doc. E/CN.4/1998/53/Add.2 (1998). 5. Also know as the Kampala Convention, it was signed by 17 African states at the end of the AU Special Summit in Kampala (Uganda) on October 23, 2009. It will enter into force as a legally binding instrument once it has been ratified by 15 states. 6. See Claudena Skran, Refugees in Inter-War Europe: The Emergence of a Regime (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995). 7. For a criticism of the terms, see Paul Weiss, “The United Nations Declaration on Territorial Asylum,” Can. YIL, vol. 92, No. 133 (1969), 142–143. 8. In Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua, ICJ Reports (1989), 3 and the Case Concerning Oil Platforms, ICJ Reports (2003), the International Court of Justice considered the lawfulness of measures taken, inter alia, to protect the “essential security interests” of one of the parties. It held that the measures taken, “must not merely be such as tend to protect” those interests, but must be necessary for that purpose.


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9. Gil Loescher and James Milner, Protracted Refugee Situations: Domestic and International Security Implications (New York: Routledge, 2007), 24. 10. UN Security Council, Statement by the President of the Security Council, S/PRST/ 1992/5, January 31, 1992. 11. See, inter alia, Gil Loescher, Refugee Movements and International Security (London: International Institute for Strategic Studies/Adelphi Paper, 1992); Myron Weiner, ed., International Migration and Security (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993). 12. Gil Loescher, Alexander Betts, and James Miller, The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR): The Politics and Practice of Refugee Protection into the Twenty-First Century (London: Routledge, 2008), 53. 13. Ibid., 57. See also UNHCR, The State of World’s Refugees: A Humanitarian Agenda (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997); Sadako Ogata, “Human Security: A Refugee Perspective,” Speech, Bergen, May 19, 1999. 14. European states in particular have been extremely innovative in that regard. For an analysis of containment strategies, see, inter alia, Savitri Taylor, “Offshpre Barriers to Asylum Seeker Movement: The Exercise of Power Without Responsibility?,” in Jane McAdam, ed., Forced Migration, Human Rights and Security (Oxford: Hart Publishing, 2008), 93–127; Susan Kneebone, “The Legal and Ethical Implications of Extraterritorial Processing of Asylum Seekers: The ‘Safe Third Country’ Concept,” in McAdam, ed., Forced Migration, Human Rights and Security, 129–154. 15. This analysis will draw heavily on the following works: Gil Loescher, James Milner, Edward Newman, and Gary Troeller, Protracted Refugee Situations: Political, Human Rights and Security Implications (Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 2008); Loesher and Milner, Protracted Refugee Situations: Domestic and International Security Implications, n. 6; Gil Loescher and James Milner, “The Long Road Home: Protracted Refugee Situations in Africa,” Survival, vol. 47, No. 2 (2005): 153–174; UNHCR, The State of the World’s Refugees: Human Displacement in the New Millennium (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006). 16. See, for example, Jeff Crisp, “No Solution in Sight: The Problem of Protracted Refugee Situations in Africa,” New Issues in Refugee Research, Working Paper No. 75, UNHCR, 2003; UNHCR, Protracted Refugee Situations, p. 1). 17. UNHCR, Protracted Refugee Situations, p. 1. 18. Loesher and Milner, Protracted Refugee Situations: Domestic and International Security Implications, 14. 19. UNHCR, The State of the World’s Refugees: Human Displacement in the New Millennium, 106. 20. Mohammed Ayoob, “A Subaltern Realist Perspective,” in Keith Krause and Michael Williams, eds., Critical Security Studies (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997), 130. 21. See, inter alia, Mohammed Ayoob, The Third World Security Predicament: State Making, Regional Conflict and the International System (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1995); Brian Job, ed., The Insecurity Dilemma: National Security of Third

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22. 23.

24. 25. 26.

27.

28. 29.

30.

31.

32. 33.

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World States (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1992); Loesher and Milner, Protracted Refugee Situations: Domestic and International Security Implications, 6. UNHCR, The State of the World’s Refugees: Fifty Years of Humanitarian Action (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 49. For an in-depth analysis of the phenomenon of militarization of refugee camps, see Robert Muggah, ed., No Refuge: The Crisis of Refugee Militarization in Africa (London: Zed Books, 2006). See Loesher and Milner, Protracted Refugee Situations: Domestic and International Security Implications, 31. UNHCR, The State of the World’s Refugees: Human Displacement in the New Millennium, 118. Broadly linking refugee camps to terrorism has provided the Kenyan government with a political cover for its anti-refugee activities. It will be recalled that the United States has been the target of two major terrorist attacks in Kenya in 1998 and 2002. It has been reported that U.S. and Kenya investigations after the attacks led to Somali-based Islamic organizations with link to al-Qaeda, in particular al-Ittihad al-Islamiya which had a controlling influence over the Dadaab refugee camps. See Danna Harman, “In a Dire Kenya Camp, Links to Al Qaeda,” Christian Science Monitor, December 18, 2002. It must be noted that other African governments have also put forward the terrorism argument in their treatment of refugees in order to insulate themselves from Western criticisms, especially from the United States. See Banaventure Rutinwa and Khoti Kamanga, “The Impact of the Presence of Refugees in Northwestern Tanzania,” Report by the Center for the Study of Forced Migration, University of Dar es Salaam, September 2003; Jean-Francois Durieux, “Preserving the Character of Refugee Camps: Lessons from the Kigoma Refugee Programme in Tanzania,” Track Two, vol. 9, No. 3 (2000), 31–35. Loesher and Milner, Protracted Refugee Situations: Domestic and International Security Implications, 52. See Human Rights Watch, “Liberian Refugees in Guinea: Refoulement, Militarization of Camps and Other Protection Concersn,” New York, Human Rights Watch, vol. 14, No. 8 (2002), 1–25. See Merrill Smith, “Warehousing Refugees: A Denial of Rights, a Waste of Humanity,” World Refugee Survey 2004 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Committee for Refugees, 2004); UNHCR, The State of the World’s Refugees: Human Displacement in the New Millennium, 115. “Enabling People to Live in Security,” Keynote speech by Mrs. Sadako Ogata, United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, at the International Symposium on Human Security, Tokyio, July 28, 2000. UNHCR, The State of the World’s Refugees: Human Displacement in the New Millennium, 65. Barbara von Tigerstron, Human Security and International Law: Prospects and Problems (Oxford: Hart Publishing, 2007), 48. For an opposing view on the impact of human security on refugee protection, see Astri Suhrke, “Human


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Security and the Protection of Refugees,” in Edward Newman and Joanne van Selm, eds., Refugees and Forced Displacement: International Security, Human Vulnerability, and the State (Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 2003), 93–108. Suhrke argues in favor of the concept of “vulnerability” as better analytical tool than “human security” in refugee protection. 34. African Union, Memorandum of Understanding on Security, Stability, Development and Cooperation in Africa, Durban, South Africa, July 9, 2002, section 1(b). 35. See Loesher and Milner, Protracted Refugee Situations: Domestic and International Security Implications, 69–70. 36. See Francis Deng et al., Sovereignty as Responsibility: Conflict Management in Africa (Washington, D.C.: Brooking Institution, 1996).


CHAPTER 3

Africa’s Responses to International Terrorism and the War against It Abdul Karim Bangura and Billie D. Tate

Introduction That the history of “international terrorism” is as old as humans’ willingness to employ violence to affect politics and has been traced back to the Sicarii, who were a first-century Jewish group that murdered enemies and collaborators in their campaign to oust their Roman rulers from Judea, is now well known to many students of International Relations. Yet to this day, the word “terrorism” itself is so politically and emotionally charged that it has generated over one hundred definitions, greatly compounding the difficulty of providing a precise definition. The reason for the numerous and competing definitions hinges on the difficulty in agreeing on a basis for determining when the use of violence—directed by whom, at whom, and for what purpose—is considered legitimate. The majority of the definitions of “terrorism” have been written by state agencies directly associated with a government, and have been systematically biased to exclude governments from their definitions. Some of the definitions such as the Terrorism Act 2000 are so broad that they include the disruption of a computer system, even though no violence results. Since this study relies on database produced by U.S. government agencies on terrorist activities that have occurred in Africa, it can be said that the study is undergirded by the American definition of terrorism. The United States has

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defined “international terrorism” under the Federal Criminal Code 18 USC §2331 as follows: Activities that involve violent acts or acts dangerous to human life that are a violation of the criminal laws of the United States or of any State, or that would be a criminal violation if committed within the jurisdiction of the United States or of any State; appear to be intended to intimidate or coerce a civilian population; to influence the policy of a government by intimidation or coercion; or to affect the conduct of government by mass destruction, assassination, or kidnapping; and occur primarily outside the territorial jurisdiction of the United States, or transcend national boundaries in terms of the means by which they are accomplished, the persons they appear intended to intimidate or coerce, or the locale in which their perpetrators operate or seek asylum.1

Since the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center in New York City and the Pentagon in Washington, D.C., and the subsequent actions of the George W. Bush administration in its “War on Terror,” greater attention is being paid to the topic of counterterrorism and religious extremism. A poignant question that arises right away is the following: is the serious discourse on the role of religion in international affairs a recent phenomenon? As Arshi Saleem Hashmi recounts, three decades ago, most social scientists saw religion as a throwback to a long-gone era. Then around 1979, surprisingly enough for many of these scholars, religion began to take on a new political importance as phrases like “liberation theology,” “religious fundamentalism,” and “religious revivalism” became common parlance. Hashmi notes that R. Scott Appleby argued that much of the religious violence can be blamed on religious actors who are actually ignorant of their own traditions, much like the foot soldiers of the Balkan atrocities who knew nothing about Christianity. Hashmi adds that Marc Gopin, however, postulated that as religion has become vital in the lives of hundreds of millions of people, the political power generated by this commitment would either lead to a more peaceful world or a more violent world, depending on how that power is employed.2 Furthermore, Hashmi states that for Gopin, the religions of the world have all contributed at one time or another to the creation and perpetuation of ethical values and behaviors that are indispensable to peace and civil society. It is equally within the capacity of the world’s religions to generate, justify, and even exult the most cruel and barbaric behavior that human beings are capable of perpetrating. Religions go through historical epochs in which one or the other of these two alternatives will dominate, and it is also invariably the case that there are always individual members, at any time of history, who devoutly embrace one or the other of these alternatives.3

Africa’s Responses

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Correspondingly, the U.S. military has embarked on a long-term push into Africa to counter what it considers growing inroads by al Qaida and other terrorist networks in poor, lawless, and predominantly Muslim expanses of the African continent. These organizations, as George Klay Kieh Jr. observes, are among the nonstate actors that have emerged as important players in the global arena and are impacting world affairs.4 In response, the Pentagon plans to train thousands of African troops in battalions equipped for extended desert and border operations and to link the militaries of the different countries with secure satellite communications. The initiative, with proposed funding of $500 million over seven years, covers Algeria, Chad, Mali, Mauritania, Niger, Senegal, Nigeria, Morocco, and Tunisia—with the U.S. military eager to add Libya if relations improve.5 The Pentagon is also assigning more military officers to U.S. embassies in the region, bolstering the gathering and sharing of intelligence, casing out austere landing strips for use in emergencies, and securing greater access and legal protections for U.S. troops through new bilateral agreements. The Pentagon’s plan is to mobilize Africans to fight and preempt militant groups while only selectively using U.S. troops that are already taxed by operations in Iraq and Afghanistan.6 Since the “War on Terror” in Africa has focused on what Washington has dubbed the terrorist networks in predominantly Muslim expanses of the continent, the following major questions are probed in this chapter: (a) Is there a correlation between majority Muslim African states and the so-called terrorist activities that have occurred on the continent? (b) What have been Africa’s responses to these terrorist activities? (c) How can these terrorist activities be discouraged? Terrorist Activities in Africa This first section seeks to answer the question whether there is a correlation between majority Muslim African states and the so-called terrorist activities that have occurred on the continent. To answer this question, it makes sense to begin by identifying the African states in which Muslims comprise the majority and then examining whether there is a correlation between those populations and the activities that have taken place on the African continent that have been labeled as terroristic. As can be seen from table 3.1, Muslims make up the majority in 23 of the 55 African states, Christians make up the majority in 24 African states, other religions are the majority in six African states, Muslims and Christians are tied in one state, and Christians and other religious adherents are tied in one state. Table 3.2 shows that 24 African countries have been designated as

62 Table 3.1

Africa’s religion statistics

African Countries

Population

% Muslims

% Christian

% Others

Algeria

34,178,188

99.0

0

Angola Benin Botswana Burkina Faso Burundi Cameroon Cape Verde Central African Rep Chad Comoros Congo Dem. Rep. Congo (Zaire) Djibouti Egypt Equatorial Guinea Eritrea Ethiopia Gabon Gambia Ghana Guinea Bissau Guinea Ivory Coast Kenya Lesotho Liberia Libya Madagascar Malawi Mali Mauritania Mauritius Mayotte Morocco Mozambique Namibia Niger Nigeria Reunion Rwanda

12,799,293 8,791,832 1,990,876 15,746,232 8,988,091 18,879,301 429,474 4,511,488

2.5 24.4 3.0 50.0 10.0 22.0 5.0 22.0

1 (including Jewish) 53.0 42.8 71.6 10.0 67.0 40.0 85.0 50.0

44.5 32.8 25.4 40.0 23.0 38.0 10.0 28.0

10,329,208 752,438 4,012,809 68,692,542

53.1 98.0 2.0 10.0

34.3 2.0 50.0 70.0

12.6 0 48.0 20.0

516,055 83,082,869 633,441 5,647,168 85,237,338 1,514,993 1,782,893 23,832,495 1,533,964 10,057,975 20,617,068 39,002,772 2,130,819 3,441,790 6,310,434 20,653,556 14,268,711 12,666,987 3,129,486 1,284,264 216,306 34,859,364 21,669,278 2,108,665 15,306,252 149,229,090 787,584 10,473,282

96.0 94.0 2.0 50.0 50.0 12.0 90.0 30.0 50.0 85.0 38.6 33.0 5.0 20.0 99.0 7.0 36.0 90.0 100.0 16.6 97.9 98.7 20.0 3.0 95.0 50.0 2.0 15.0

6.0 1.0 93.0 50.0 43.6 75.0 8.0 68.8 10.0 8.0 32.8 55.0 80.0 40.0 0 41.0 56.7 1.0 0 32.2 2.1 1.1 41.3 80.0 5.0 40.0 98.0 83.2

0 5.0 5.0 0 6.4 13.0 2.0 1.2 40.0 7.0 28.6 12.0 15.0 40.0 1.0 52.0 7.3 9.0 0 51.2 0 0.2 38.7 17.0 0 10.0 0 1.8

63 Sao Tome and Principe Senegal Seychelles Sierra Leone Somalia South Africa Sudan Swaziland Tanzania Togo Tunisia Uganda Zambia Zimbabwe

212,679

3.0

77.5

19.5

13,711,597 87,476 6,440,053 9,832,017 49,052,489 41,087,825 1,123,913 41,048,532 6,019,877 10,486,339 32,369,558 11,862,740 11,392,629

94.0 1.1 60.0 100.0 2.0 70.0 10.0 50.0 25.0 98.0 20.0 15.0 10.0

5.0 93.2 10.0 0 43.7 5.0 20.0 30.0 29.0 1.0 76.0 84.0 25.0

1.0 5.7 30.0 0 54.3 25.0 70.0 20.0 46.0 1.0 4.0 1.0 65.0

Sources: United States Central Intelligence Agency. “Muslim Population.” World Factbook. http://www. cia.gov (2009); MuslimPopulation.com. “Muslim Population Data.” http://MuslimPopulation.com (2009); NationMaster.com. “Muslim Population Data.” http://NationMaster.com (2009); Abdul Karim Bangura and Abdul Aziz Said. The World of Islam: A Country-by-Country Profile (Boston, MA: Pearson Publishing Company, 2004).

Table 3.2

Terrorist activities in Africa

Country

Total Number of Attacks

Algeria

220

Angola

21

Burundi Chad Dem. Rep Congo Djibouti Egypt

5 1 2 1 38

Eritrea Ethiopia

3 27

Kenya Libya Madagascar

4 1 7

Mauritania Morocco

2 10

Types of Terrorist Attacks

Armed Attack, Assassination, Bombing Armed Attack, Assassination, Bombing, Kidnapping Armed Attack, Bombing Assassination Unknown Bombing Armed Attack, Assassination, Bombing Assassination, Bombing Armed Attack, Assassination, Bombing, Kidnapping Bombing Assassination Armed Attack, Bombing, Kidnapping Armed Attack, Assassination Armed Attack, Bombing

Total Fatalities

987 307 10 1 6 0 143 8 33 226 4 0 2 37

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Table 3.2

(Continued)

Country

Total Number of Attacks

Nigeria

35

Sierra Leone Somalia

8 66

South Africa Sudan

37 6

Swaziland Tanzania Tunisia Uganda

2 5 1 48

Zambia

1

Types of Terrorist Attacks

Armed Attack, Assassination, Bombing, Kidnapping Kidnapping Armed Attack, Assassination, Bombing, Hijacking Assassination, Bombing Armed Attack, Assassination, Bombing, Kidnapping Bombing Bombing Bombing Armed Attack, Arson, Assassination, Bombing, Kidnapping, Bombing

Total Fatalities

12 0 117 4 76 1 11 15 524

1

Source: Lawson Terrorism Information Center. “Terrorism Data.” Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. http://www. terrorisminfo.mipt.org/incidentcalendarasp (2009).

places where terrorist acts occurred between 1998 and 2007—years for which data are available. These activities included armed attacks, assassinations, bombings, kidnappings, and a category listed as unknown. Matching Tables 3.1 and 3.2, one can see that terrorist activities were reported to have taken place in 14 Muslim majority and 10 Christian and other religions majority African states. Since Washington has suggested that there is a correlation between Islam and terrorism, at least three plausible questions emerge here. The first question is whether there is a statistically significant difference in the number of terrorist activities that took place in majority Muslim African states compared with those that occurred in majority Christian African states. The second question is whether there is a statistically significant correlation between African countries where Islam is the majority religion and terrorist activities. The third question, which is a corollary to the second, is whether there is a statistically significant correlation between African countries where Islam is the minority religion and terrorist activities. Answers to these questions will suggest either (a) Muslims terrorize non-Muslims in African countries where they are the majority and feel powerful, or (b) Muslims terrorize non-Muslims in African countries where they are the minority and feel powerless. In order to explore these questions and propositions, paired sample T-test statistics were computed for the data

Africa’s Responses Table 3.3

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Paired samples test, paired differences

Pair

Mean

Std. Deviation

Std. Error Mean

t-Statistic

Significance (2-tailed)

51.2906 58.2248

10.4697 11.8851

−2.890 −630

0.008 0.525

1: Attacks-PMuslim −30.263 2: Attacks-PChristian −7.488

Table 3.4

Paired samples correlations

Pair 1: Attacks & PMuslim 2: Attacks & PChristian

Correlation

Significance

0.252 −.204

0.235 0.339

in Tables 3.1 and 3.2 using the Statistical Package for the Social Sciences (SPSS). As shown in Table 3.3, the paired mean for attacks-Muslim population is −30.26, the standard deviation is 51.29, the t-Statistic is −2.89, and it is statistically significant at the.05 percent. The paired mean for attacksChristian population is −7.48, the standard deviation is 58.22, the t-Statistic is −630, and it is not statistically significant at the 0.05 level. This means that overall, the larger the percentage of Muslim or Christian population, the lesser the number of terrorist attacks. There is also a significant variation in the number of attacks and the population sizes. From Table 3.4, one can observe that there is no significant statistical correlation between attacks and Muslim or Christian population. In fact the correlation between attacks and Christian population is negative, albeit not statistically significant. Since neither Islam nor Christianity or any other religion seems to be a significant explanation for the terrorist activities that have taken place in Africa, how then have Africans responded to these activities? This question is explored in the section that follows. Africa’s Responses This section probes the second major question in this chapter: what have been Africa’s responses to terrorism? For the sake of brevity, a sample of what have been characterized as predominantly Muslim African cases is discussed here. What is evident from these cases is that the responses have ranged

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from enthusiastic to ambivalent. What is equally evident is that the African countries involved in the “War on Terror” have been more as objects of the policy. Algeria A senior French counterterrorism official, speaking off the record, told Afred de Montesquiou, an Associated Press reporter, that French officials work daily and constantly with Algerian security officials to contain the terrorist threat in Algeria, and six cells of the Algerian militants’ group called al Qaida of the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) have been dismantled across Europe in recent years. Montesquiou adds that in May 2009, the Spanish judiciary announced that it had caught 12 Algerians from a suspected support cell; Italian authorities issued arrest warrants for two Tunisians, two Moroccans, and an Algerian suspected of plotting attacks on a church and a subway line; and the Pentagon’s new Africa Command is also striving to prevent the Algerian group’s expansion south into the Sahara desert.7 But the bulk of the militants’ activities takes place in densely populated northern Algeria where nearly every day they traffic goods, plunder drivers at fake road blocks, kidnap, and extort money from small businessmen in exchange for safety. The Algerian government has responded by ordering 267 local bank branches to close because they were vulnerable to holdups that could fund militants. The Algerian Defense Ministry has armed local militias to fight the militants. Algerian authorities say that the militants are on the run. They have dismantled several large cells; important local “emirs,” or militant leaders, have turned themselves in; and several former high-profile leaders, known as “repentants,” are calling on militants to stop fighting. Algerian authorities estimate that between 500 and 800 active fighters are left, a mere fraction of how many there used to be, as security officers have indeed killed and arrested militants in droves.8 According to Montesquiou, the Algerian government has ramped up its security. The capital is surrounded by rings of police and army checkpoints. The Defense and Interior ministries are by far the biggest employers in the country, with 100,000 military police, 80,000 government-funded militia members, and 150,000 police officers. These figures do not include those of the regular military branches, whose numbers are kept secret. Together, the Defense and Interior ministries spent 656 billion dinars ($9.1 billion), according to Algeria’s 2008 budget. The amount represented more than a quarter of the country’s functioning budget, more than those of the Education, Justice, and Industry ministries put together. For now, Algeria is able to handle these costs because of its enormous oil and gas wealth, but as the global


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economic downturn continues, the burden is getting heavier. Meanwhile, poverty is rampant, unemployment is widespread, development falls short, and 70 percent of the population is under 30. These conditions stoke militancy that spreads far beyond Algeria’s borders, especially with the assistance of al Qaida.9 As Montesquoiu also points out, in 2005, the AQIM, then known as the Salafist Group for Call and Combat, was running out of steam. Born during the 1992 insurgency, the group participated in the near-civil war the next decade that left about 200,000 people dead. But the group’s fighters had lost popular support after killing Muslim civilians. Many of its leaders had turned themselves in during government amnesties, and the group was weak from internal feuds. So its new “emir,” or leader, Abdelmalek Droukdel, called upon al Qaida for support. His emissaries met with Osama bin Laden’s deputy, Ayman-al-Zawahri, or close associates of his, according to Western intelligence sources. Al Qaida refused to give its brand away to an unreliable group. Even by al Qaida’s militant standards, the Algerian militants had a reputation of excess violence. But after a year of talks and tests, al-Zawahri issued a statement recognizing AQIM on September 11, 2006.10 One must ponder why a group such as AQIM would emerge and function in a country like Algeria in the first place. The answer may be found in how Islamic radicalism was birthed in the country. As Wayne Edge poignantly points out, despite the spread of Islamic radicalism in many Arab nations in recent years, Algeria, until recently, appeared an unlikely venue for the rise of a strong radical Islamic movement. Algeria’s long association with France, its lack of historic Islamic identity as a nation, and several decades of single-party socialism made such a development unlikely. The failure of successive Algerian governments to resolve several economic problems, in addition to the lack of representative political institutions nurtured within the ruling National Liberation Front (FLN), however, led to the emergence of radical Islam as a response. Radicals took an active part in the 1988 riots, and with the establishment of a multiparty system, they organized a political party—the Islamic Salvation Front (FIS). The party soon attracted 3 million members among the approximately 25 million Algerians at the time.11 FIS candidates won 55 percent of the urban mayoral and council seats in the 1989 local and municipal elections. The FLN barely held on to power largely in the rural areas. Fearing an FIS victory, the government postponed for six months the scheduled June 1991 elections for the enlarged 430member National People’s Assembly. An interim government was formed to oversee the transition process headed by the technocrat prime minister, Sid Ahmed Ghozali.12

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In accordance with President (former colonel) Chadli Bendjedid’s commitment to multiparty democracy, the first stage of Assembly elections occurred on December 26, 1991, with the FIS candidates winning 188 out of the 231 contested seats. But just before the second stage could be conducted, the army intervened. The leaders of the FIS were arrested, and the elections were postponed indefinitely. On January 17, 1992, well ahead of the expiration (in 1993) of his third five-year term, President Bendjedid resigned as a sacrifice in the interest of restoring stability to the nation and preserving democracy. Mohammed Boudiaf, one of the nine historic chiefs of the Revolution who had been in exile in Morocco for many years, was brought back by the military to head the Higher Council. The FIS headquarters was shut down and the party declared illegal in a court in Algiers. The local councils and provincial assemblies formed by the FIS after its electoral victory were dissolved and replaced by “executive delegations” appointed by the Higher Council. After that, Boudiaf named a 60-member Consultative Council to work with the various political groups to reach a consensus on reforms. The refusal of such leaders as former president Ahmed Ben Bella and Socialist Forces Front (FFS) leader Hocine Ait Ahmed to participate in the council, however, doomed the effort. Boudiaf was also suspected of using the council to build a personal power base. He was assassinated, reportedly by a member of his own presidential guard, on June 29, 1992.13 With Boudiaf out of the way, the Algerian generals turned to their own ranks for a new leader. In 1994, the Higher Council named General Liamine Zeroual, the real strongman of the regime, the head of state. Zeroual promised to hold presidential elections in November 1995 as a first step toward restoring parliamentary government. He had the top leaders of the FIS, Abbas Madani and Ali Belhaj, who had been sentenced for 12 years on charges of “endangering state security,” released from jail but placed under house arrest, on the assumption that in return for dialogue, they would call for a halt to the spiraling violence.14 Even though the dialogue proved inconclusive, Zeroual still declared that the presidential election would be conducted as scheduled. Before that, leaders of the FIS, FFS, FLN, and several smaller political parties had met in Rome, Italy, under the auspices of Sant-Egidio, a Catholic service agency, and announced a “National Contract.” The Contract had called for the restoration of the political rights of the FIS in return for an end to violence, multiparty democracy, and exclusion of the military from government. The leaders also defined the Algerian “personality” in the Contract as Islamic, Arab, and Berber. The military leaders, however, rejected the Contract outright because of the FIS’ participation. Nonetheless, the November 1995 presidential election was held as scheduled under massive military


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presence—soldiers were stationed within 65 feet of every poling station. As expected, Zeroual won handily, garnering 61 percent of the vote.15 Chad Grooming effective military leaders is as central to the United States’ mission in Chad as teaching infantry tactics, U.S. officials say. But the job is complicated because Chad’s army, like the rest of the government, is run topdown by the feared Zagawa ethnic group. Indeed, many of the United States’ goals in Chad appear to conflict with the Zagawa leaders’ imperative to stay in power. Like the other governments across the region with which the U.S. military is working, the Chadian government has embraced counterterrorism as a way to stifle legitimate dissent and Muslim groups, according to reports issued by the International Crisis Group.16 In March 2004, Sgt. Mohamed Nour Abakar, 28, described how he served as one of America’s African fighters in a battle against terrorists: “I was between the border of Chad and Libya . . . It was about 3 p.m.,” he said, when his regiment received intelligence from a U.S. Navy surveillance plane on the location of 80 fighters from an Algerian group affiliated with al Qaida. The fighters, from the Salafist Group for Call and Combat, were wanted for the kidnapping of 32 European tourists in Southern Algeria in 2003. At 6:00 p.m., about 150 Chadian soldiers first spotted the guerrillas, who were traveling in eight Toyota trucks mounted with heavy machine guns. “We found the Salafists hunting gazelle. When they saw us, they left the gazelle and began to shoot at us with machine guns,” Abakar said. Just then, Abakar recalled, the guerilla commander hurled an insulting appeal: “You monkeys! We are not your enemy, we are America’s enemy,” he yelled. “It was our mistake to fire at you, so why are you chasing us? We are all African!” But the Chadians fought on. They pursed the guerrillas into the hills for two days, killing 28 of them, and capturing seven, Abakar said. The Chadians lost 20 men, and Abakar was shot in the chest. “I was about to give up and be a civilian,” he said, “but I found out the Americans were coming with new training, so I joined again.”17 Djibouti U.S. relations with Djibouti since the death of 18 soldiers in Mogadishu in 1993 and the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, while cordial, might best be described as following a policy of “benign neglect.” During the 1991 Gulf War and the United Nations Operations in Somalia/Unified Task Force (UNOSOM/UNITAF) operation in Somalia, there was a high volume of

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transient U.S. military personnel in Djibouti and some U.S. military assistance, which the government of Djibouti actively sought to help it put down a rebellion of ethnic Afar dissidents during 1992–1995. Despite lack of success in gaining significant U.S. economic aid, Djibouti continued to permit access for U.S. aircrafts, most notably for disaster relief to Mozambique in 2000, without conditions or compensation.18 Whether or which terrorist groups operate in Djibouti is difficult to assess. Nonetheless, the groundwork to support such groups has expanded. In the last five years, a new Islamic Center has been opened, supported by Saudi Arabia; reportedly, the number of mosques has grown from approximately 35 to over 100, financed and staffed by groups and individuals outside Djibouti.19 Possible terrorist threats include attacks on U.S. personnel and facilities, disruption of the port and the Addis-Djibouti rail link to damage Djibouti’s sole economic assets and upset regional transportation as famine looms once again; stimulating disaffected opposition members to resume active rebellion in Djibouti; and an attack on the Inter-Governmental Authority on Development (IGAD) headquarters as a symbol of regional cooperation by Western donors, including the United States.20 Djibouti has an army, a navy (with virtually no ability to patrol the coastline effectively), Gendarmerie, and police. In the past, the government’s strategy has been to rely on clan loyalties, insider’s knowledge through the networks that import qat (a traditional local stimulant chewed by locals), and a relatively efficient Gendarmerie.21 Ethiopia Ethiopia’s situation presents a policy challenge for the United States, which correctly sees Ethiopia as a reliable partner for combating terrorism and one with which it should cooperate on security matters. This includes the sharing of intelligence, training of Ethiopian security personnel, and cooperation in counterterrorism programs. At the same time, the United States should engage only in activities that clearly meet American objectives and avoid those that may have unintended negative consequences for the region, especially in Somalia.22 Muslim Somalia and predominantly Muslim Sudan each have a 1,000mile-long frontier with Ethiopia. There are few controls along the borders; persons can cross without detection. The export of Islamic radicalism from Sudan was a major concern of the Ethiopian government until the outbreak of conflict with Eritrea in 1998 changed the political dynamic in the region.23


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Ethiopia has a tough, effective security apparatus that dates from the revolutionary opposition’s long conflict with the Derg regime. Many security personnel are veterans of that military campaign. Their tactics are firm, some would say harsh, and they have developed an impressive intelligence capacity. Corruption seems to be minimal in the service; as a result, Ethiopia is not as soft a target as nearby countries such as Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda.24 During the period that Ethiopia had poor relations with Sudan, from 1995 until late 1998, it considered the export of Islamic radicalism from Sudan its greatest security threat. Sudan supported a variety of Ethiopian organizations that would overthrow the government. Ethiopia played the same tit-for-tat game. It offered strong support, including military assistance, to the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM) whose goal was to replace the government in Khartoum. Ethiopia joined Eritrea and Uganda in an American-led “frontline states” policy against Sudan. The policy ended after Ethiopia normalized relations with Sudan.25 Kenya Security cooperation has long been an important aspect of Kenya-U.S. relations, underscored by airbase, port access, and over-flight agreements since the Cold War. Despite political disagreements between the United States and the Daniel arap Moi government, the security components of the relationship endured. Since 1998, the United States has spent nearly $3.1 million on antiterrorism assistance, including the training of more than 500 Kenyan security personnel in the United States and a donation of $1 million in airport security equipment under the “Safe Skies for Africa” program to improve aviation safety.26 Kenya is also a partner in the United States Combined Joint Task-ForceHorn of Africa (CJTF-HOA) in Djibouti that seeks to check terrorism. This program envisages U.S. training of regional militaries in counterterrorism procedures. Furthermore, as part of the multinational campaign, a special antiterrorism squad, composed of the German Naval Air Wing, is currently based in Mombasa to monitor ships plying the Gulf of Aden and the Somali coast.27 In July 2001, Nairobi police arrested eight Yemeni and 13 Somali nationals. Similarly, police arrested more than 20 people suspected of having links with al Qaida in Lamu in November 2001. Al Qaida struck again in November 2002 with an attack on the Paradise Hotel in Mombasa and an attempt to shoot down an Israel airliner in Mombasa. In May 2003, the Kenyan government admitted that a key member of the al Qaida terror

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network was plotting an attack on Western targets, confirming al Qaida’s firm local presence.28 The slow government response to terrorist threats since the 1998 bombing grew from a denial based on the perception of Kenya as a victim, rather than a source of international terrorism. The Kenyan government has always been afraid to alienate Kenya’s minority Muslims who often complain of marginalization. There was, however, a marked shift in policy after Muslim protestors embarrassed the Moi regime by marching for al Qaida in the wake of September 11, 2001 attacks.29 The new government of President Mwai Kibaki moved to establish mechanisms to meet the growing threat. In February 2003, the government formed an Anti-Terrorist Police Unit composed of officers trained in antiterrorism. At the same time, the cabinet authorized negotiations between the executive and legislative branches on legislation to detect and punish suspected terrorists. In June 2003, then foreign minister and now vice president Kalonzo Musyoka called on parliament to expeditiously pass an Anti-Terrorism Bill. In other measures, the ministry of finance established a Task Force on AntiMoney Laundering and Combating the Financing of Terrorism, consisting of representatives from finance, trade, and foreign affairs ministries; the Central Bank; the police; the Criminal Investigation Department (CID); and the National Security Intelligence Services.30

Mali U.S. counterterrorism initiatives are twofold in Mali: (1) military assistance and (2) nonmilitary programs that provide instruction for teachers and job training for young Muslim men who are susceptible and singled out by militant recruiting campaigns. With regards to military assistance, the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) is spending about $9 million on counterterrorism programs in Mali. The goal of the USAID program is to act quickly in that country before terrorism becomes as entrenched as it is in Somalia. Mali has been willing and able to permit dozens of American and European military trainers to conduct exercises there, and its leaders are plainly worried about militants who have taken refuge in its vast Saharan north.31 In nonmilitary action, the USAID is building 12 FM radio stations in the north to link far-flung villages to an early-warning network that sends bulletins on bandits and other threats. In addition, the Pentagon will produce radio soap operas in four national languages that will promote peace and tolerance. The USAID has noted that the biggest potential threat comes from as many as 200 fighters from an offshoot of al Qaida called al Qaida in the


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Islamic Maghreb, which uses the northern Malian desert as a staging area and support base.32 Mali has not experienced any terrorist attacks. Members of the al Qaida affiliate have not attacked Malian forces, and American and Malian officials privately acknowledge that military officials here have adopted a live-and-letlive approach to the al Qaida threat, focusing instead on rebellious Tuareg tribesmen, who also live in the sparsely populated north. With only 10,000 military and other security forces, and just two working helicopters and a few airplanes, Mali acknowledges how daunting a task it is to try to drive out militants from its territory.33 Nigeria In the early 1980s, a fundamentalist Islamic sect, the Maitatsine, was active in northeastern Nigeria, influencing neighboring Chad, Niger, and Cameroon. Today, Islamist customs are applied in Northern Nigeria, with 12 of its 36 states officially adopting Sharia Law as their legal practice. What is different about the rise of Islam in Nigeria than in other countries in Africa or the Middle East is that it all happened in a rather unusual period of “democracy” perhaps better described as chaotic, free-for-all politics. Since the collapse of the latest military junta in 1999, Nigeria has a weak but elected government.34 Religion in Nigeria plays a big factor in its demographics. Nigeria has 50 percent Muslims, 40 percent Christians, and 10 percent indigenous religious adherents (see Table 3.1). Nigeria’s Christianity-Islam division largely parallels its major ethnic cleavages: Muslims, who until recently dominated the Nigerian military, make up a far more significant percentage of the population in the northern parts of the country, as opposed to a mostly Christian population in the south.35 To make things worse, Nigeria’s major source of revenue are oil and gas, which provide 20 percent of its gross domestic product (GDP), 95 percent of its foreign exchange earning, and about 65 percent of its budgetary revenues. It must be noted that Nigeria’s oil and gas are concentrated in the southeast, the mostly Igbo and Ijaw non-Muslim areas of the country. Due to the way the newest Nigerian Constitution (1999) is written, local governors have had a free hand to manipulate religion.36 In 2004, when a unit of GSPC (Jamiyy’a Salafiyya li’l-Daw’a wa-‘l Jihad, a Salafist Group), the main radical Algerian Islamist group, led by Amari Saifi, also known as Abderezzak el Para, was decimated or captured in Chad, it turned out that a larger part of its members were Nigerians. This is no surprise, for in addition to the irresponsible political ambitions of northern state governors, Islamic fundamentalism is encouraged there by Wahabbi-trained

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imams. As a result, the old and respected Islamic-tradition cities of Kano and Sokoto increasingly serve as secondary recruiting and indoctrination centers for unemployed and unemployable youths from throughout the Sahel. Sahel is a huge breeding ground for terrorism, since this area on the margins of the Sahara extends from Mauritania on the Atlantic to Darfur in Western Sudan, and includes Mali, Niger, and Chad. Compounding this Islamist expansion is the further problem that in Darfur these Nigerian influences meet those of Khartoum, Sub-Saharan Africa’s main Islamist center.37 The most immediate threat posed by the rise of Islam in Northern Nigeria is to the unity and very existence of Nigeria itself. Clashes between the dominant Muslims and the minority Christians in the North have occurred for a long time, and the introduction of Sharia has not helped matters. Recently, Christians have begun to answer in kind, especially in the central state of Plateau. There, some 1,000 people, mostly Muslims, were killed in September 2001, and hundreds more in April and May 2004. In response, Christians were slaughtered in Kano, while the central government declared a state of emergency in Plateau and appointed a retired general as governor.38 While these clashes are routinely described by the Western media as “sectarian,” they are far more than that; they are religiously tinged clashes of ethnic identities over increasingly scare resources: land and oil money. The Hausa and Fulani think they have the numbers, but little else, not even food; the mostly Christian Yorubas and Christian Igbos have the skills and the oil.39 Somalia In their March 14, 2007 article, “U.S. Allies in Africa May Have Engaged in Secret Prisoner Renditions,” that appears in the McClatchy Newspapers, Shashank Bengali and Jonathan Landay recount how a network of U.S. allies in East Africa secretly transferred to prisons in Somalia and Ethiopia as many as 150 people who were captured in Kenya while fleeing the war in Somalia. Kenyan authorities made the arrests as part of a U.S.-backed, four-nation military campaign in December 2006 and January 2007 against Somalia’s Islamist militias, which the George W. Bush administration officials had linked to al Qaida. This claim was problematic because, according to the Economist, “America can be more heavily criticized for subordinating Somali interests to its own desire to catch a handful of Al-Qaeda men who may (or may not) have been hiding in Mogadishu . . .. None has been caught, many innocents have died in air strikes, and anti-American feeling has deepened. Western, especially European, diplomats watching Somalia from Nairobi, the capital of Kenya to the south, have sounded the alarm. The governments have done little.”40


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The people arrested in Kenya, who included men and women of 17 nationalities and children as young as seven months, were held in that country for several weeks before most of them were transferred covertly to Somalia and Ethiopia, where they have been held incommunicado. The transfers, which were carried out in the middle of the night and made public only after a court order in Kenya, violated international law. The program was driven by the United States, which has built a close relationship with Kenya and Ethiopia in the “War on Terrorism.” At least one of the transferees is an American citizen identified on a flight manifest as Amir Mohamed Meshar. He was flown from Nairobi, Kenya’s capital, to Baidoa, the seat of Somalia’s transitional government, on February 10, 2007. His whereabouts and those of 12 other detainees aboard the chartered flight are unknown. American officials in Kenya declined to comment on the allegations that they were involved in the detentions and renditions. State Department officials in Washington had no immediate comment. Representatives of Islamic groups who had visited detainees in late January in their jail cells in Nairobi said they had spotted U.S. diplomatic vehicles outside the holding facilities. They also said that some detainees had reported being questioned by U.S. law enforcement agents. The Bush administration came under fire for the practice of extraordinary renditions: the transfer of detainees without court proceedings to foreign countries where they can be interrogated, often in secret, and sometimes subjected to torture. The allegations marked the first time that such renditions have been suspected in East Africa, where American-friendly regimes often treated prisoners in a very brutal manner.41 The December 2006 military intervention in Somalia was a wellorchestrated campaign involving four actors: (1) Somalia’s transitional government; (2) Ethiopia (a country headed by one of Africa’s worst dictators, Meles Zenawi, but was even permitted by the Bush Administration to buy weapons from North Korea), whose ground forces drove the Islamists from power; (3) Kenya, which sent troops to seal the border with Somalia and prevent fighters from escaping; and (4) the United States, which gave the green light to the invasion, provided intelligence and training support to the Ethiopians and conducted surveillance of Somalia that apparently was used to track the Islamists’ escape. The United States also launched two air strikes on suspected terrorist targets (that turned out to be innocent herdsmen) in January. The campaign netted no al Qaida figures. Consequently, the allies conspired to illegally hold prisoners, many of whom were described by family members as teachers or small-business owners who went to Somalia in search of jobs. Details of the detention program, which received very little coverage in the Kenyan and international media, emerged only after a Nairobi-based consortium of community groups, the Muslim Human Rights Forum, challenged Kenyan authorities in court.42

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After the Ethiopian invasion in late December 2006, Kenyan security forces arrested at least 150 people on both sides of the Kenya-Somalia border, including 17 women and 12 children. The detainees included citizens of Somalia, Yemen, Syria, Tunisia, and Ethiopia. Kenyan police refused to permit Muslim leaders to visit the prisoners, among them a woman who had a bullet lodged in her back but was denied medical treatment and another who was nine months pregnant. The police shuffled the prisoners among several facilities in the Nairobi area to keep them out of sight. Under a judge’s order, authorities produced flight manifests that showed that at least 80 detainees had been transferred to Somalia on three chartered flights: January 20 and 27 and February 10. The manifest appeared to have been filled out hastily, with spaces for such details as the departure and arrival airports left blank. What has happened to the detainees since then remains unclear. One detainee telephoned the Muslim rights group in March 2007 from Ethiopia to report that he and several other detainees had been transferred to a prison on the outskirts of Addis Ababa. The telephone line went dead before he could say more. Dozens of detainees are thought to be in a holding facility near the bullet-pocked airport in Mogadishu where a mounting insurgency threatened the fragile government’s grip on power. Another 45–60 detainees, members of Ethiopia’s Ogaden and Oromo rebel groups who allegedly fought alongside Somalia’s Islamists, were flown directly to Ethiopia. At least 19 people were set free in Kenya, and some British and American detainees were deported to their home countries.43 Meanwhile, the United States worked very hard to raise troops from nearby allied states to take over the job in Somalia. Promises were made but, with one exception, remain unfulfilled. In a telephone conversation, Ugandan president Yoweri Museveni promised President George W. Bush to provide between 1,000 and 2,000 troops to protect Somalia’s transitional government and train its troops. The Ugandan troops arrived but were largely confined to their quarters and refraining from taking part in the effort to crush the opposition while the forces of the transitional government and Ethiopia shelled civilian areas in Mogadishu from the government compound they are supposedly guarding.44 Many observers around the world have asserted that the Bush administration’s grand strategy in its “War on Terrorism” in Africa was more about the continent’s strategic natural resources and China’s growing presence in Africa than it was about fighting terrorists. For example, as Pajibo and Woods, among many others, assert, the military-driven U.S. engagement with Africa was a reflection of the desperation of the Bush administration in its efforts to control the increasingly strategic resources in Africa, especially oil, gas, and uranium. In what has become a multipolar world with increased competition


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from China, among other countries, for those resources, the United States wants above all else to strengthen its foothold in resource-rich regions of Africa. Pajibo and Woods point out that Nigeria is the largest exporter of oil to the United States, and the West African region currently provides nearly 20 percent of the U.S. supply of hydrocarbons, up from 15 percent just six years ago and well on the way to a 25 percent share forecast for 2015. A new African Command, based potentially in or near oil-rich West Africa, would consolidate existing American military operations (U.S. European Command, U.S. Central Command, Pacific Command, and Indian Ocean Command) and bring core avenues of international engagement from development (USAID) and diplomacy (State Department) even more in line with U.S. military objectives.45 Even the United States’ bombing of Somalia has been explained as a hidden war for Somali oil. According to Bloice, on file are plans (which have been put on hold due to the continuing conflict) that allocate two-thirds of Somalia’s oil fields to American oil companies Conoco, Amoco, Chevron, and Phillips. He adds that the then U.S.-backed prime minister of Somalia, Ali Mohamed Gedi, proposed the enactment of a new oil law to encourage the return of foreign oil companies to the country.46 In a July 14, 2007 article titled “China Wins Permit to Look for Oil in Somalia” in the Financial Times, Barney Jopson reports that the Chinese state oil giant, CNOOC, won permission to search for oil in Somalia, a sign of China’s willingness to brave Africa’s most volatile regions in its search for natural resources. CNOOC and Somalia’s transitional government officials hammered out the deal in a Nairobi hotel in September 2006. The agreement would give the Chinese company exploration rights in the north Mudug region, some 500 kilometers northeast of Mogadishu. CNOOC and a smaller group, China International Oil and Gas (CIOG), had also signed a production-sharing contract with the transitional government in May 2006 that would give the government 51 percent oil revenues and was endorsed at a November China-Africa summit in Beijing. At a meeting in Nairobi on June 24, parts of the agreement were clarified by Abdullahi Yusuf Mohamad, the Somali energy minister; Chen Zhuobiao, managing director of CNOOC Africa; and Judah Jay, managing director of CIOG. Meanwhile, the United States Energy Information Administration insisted that Somalia had no proven oil reserves and only 200 billion cubic feet of proven natural gas reserves, which have not been tapped.47 But after Gedi returned to Somalia from a quick trip to the United States in August 2007, he denied that Somali officials had sold oil rights to the Chinese. He promised that the transitional government will not begin searching for oil until after parliament adopts a new petroleum law and the shattered

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country achieves peace.48 Nonetheless, as Nick Wadhams reports on Voice of America News on August 8, 2007, Somali officials are looking to carve up oil rights. He adds that oil experts say the previous estimates about Somalia’s small oil reserves are based on outdated technology and that Somali officials have quietly been laying the groundwork for a potential oil boom. The priority that officials are putting on oil, despite Somalia’s turbulence, according to Wadhams, is another sign that many African leaders are looking to oil to jumpstart their economies.49 In Summary What underlies the preceding African responses is captured quite well in the following excerpt by a respondent named Ayo during an Internet Listserv USA-Africa Dialogue exchange on June 30, 2009: When the September 11th (2001) attacks on the World Trade Center (in New York and the Pentagon in Washington, DC) took place, people all over the world expressed their outrage. Was it Le Monde or Le Figaro which carried the headline: “We are all Americans”? Iranians demonstrated against the attacks and offered their support to the US. The world was ready to share the victimhood with America. But George Bush decided to monopolize it. The Iranians were pushed aside as part of an “axis of evil.” The French later became “cheeseeating surrender monkeys” who were part of “Old Europe.” So the world felt that if that was the case, then they’d better leave the Americans to it. They were certainly ready to help in the battle against the terrorists, and in many ways condemned the crime that had been committed. But since the US was adopting a “my way or the highway” attitude, and not everybody felt that they should simply join the “War On Terror” without being allowed to contribute to decisions about tactics or how the battle should be waged, they found that they couldn’t do more than adopt a “to your tents o Israel” response. Many did hang on in there with the US. But it’s understandable that some did not.50

Indeed, something similar is evident in the African responses. Discouraging Terrorist Activities in Africa Addressed here is this chapter’s third major research question: what can be done to discourage terrorist activities in Africa? There is no question that when a country, especially a superpower for that matter, feels threatened, it will find ways to respond to that threat wherever it believes the threat may emanate. And as Shehu Sani, the president of the Kaduna-based Civil Rights Congress, points out, the parlous state of African economies, the poverty of


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its people and the desperation of many governments in Africa make survival the first commandment of life. The majority of the world’s poorest nations are in Africa. Hunger, disease, and chronic illiteracy are a way of life in many of those countries, where a dollar a day will be a privilege. These nations are laden with foreign debts in the billions of dollars, while their citizens battle with perennial droughts. But these countries are endowed with large deposits of natural resources and/or vast uninhabited territories that are conducive for military activities. And since they cannot export cars, like Japan; computer chips, like the United States; electronics, like South Korea; or missile technology, like North Korea, their natural resources and territories become simply market commodities.51 Sadam Hussein, we now know, did not seek to buy uranium from Niger; but had he wanted to do so, he could have obtained it from any one of several nations. Life is so harsh for the people at the southern edge of the Sahara that exporting any commodity that would provide hard cash—for health care, education, decent roads, and shelter—would be difficult to resist.52 If the United States and its Western allies want to prevent “rogue” actors from getting their hands on Africa’s uranium or prevent terrorist groups from setting up training camps in Africa, then they should make a serious commitment to help those poor nations. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, the West committed billions of dollars to help Russia secure its nuclear weapons to prevent them from falling into the hands of hostile states or individuals. If the West judged it strategically important to help Russia in this way, why not help African countries out of poverty to prevent them from resorting to selling their uranium to “rogue” actors or allowing their territories to be utilized by terrorist groups? Helping Africa to help itself would be good for the security of the West. The West should not wait until Africa feels that it has no choice but to use its mineral resources and territories for saber rattling and bargaining. Furthermore, AFRICOM should be scrapped because it is not a prudent way for Africans to help fight terrorism. The initiative will simply end up hurting Africa and generate more anti-American feelings on the continent. As Salim Lone, former spokesman for the U.S. mission in Iraq and now columnist with the Daily Nation in Nairobi, Kenya, poignantly argues, AFRICOM reflects the Bush administration’s primary reliance on the use of force to pursue its strategic interests. He adds that among the key goals for the new command is the assurance of oil imports from Africa, which have assumed much greater importance in light of the hostility the United States faces in the Middle East. AFRICOM will militarize relations between Africa and the United States and militarize numerous African nations. It will also tilt these countries’ policies toward the use of force, inflame Muslim

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passions, and create more angry militants opposed to a U.S. military presence in their countries or regions. The command’s establishment will also provide the United States with new bases from which to project its force into oil-providing Middle Eastern countries.53 Lone also mentions that the misguided reliance on force is shown by the disastrous results of the United States forcibly toppling the Islamic Courts Union (ICU) in Somalia with the muscle of the Ethiopian military. In a smaller-scale reprise of the Iraq catastrophe, the military victory in January 2007 was swift, but the plan to strengthen a client regime quickly went awry and a fierce insurgency continues. The relative peace the ICU had brought to Somalia has been shattered, and the arrival of the African Union force mandated by the United Nations Security Council has further exacerbated and internationalized the crisis. In the case of Iraq, both the United Nations and the region resisted sanctioning a multinational occupying force, but it is much easier for the United States to get its way in Africa, a continent that is too weak to resist such a powerful country. The Somalia war also made Kenya a major ally in the Bush administration’s “War on Terror” after it pressured Nairobi to allow its territory to be used by American forces, and also because it handed over genuine refugees and suspected ICU supporters and fighters to Somalia, where they faced torture and death. The kidnapping of British citizens in Ethiopia may be a consequence of the exacerbated pressures that confront Meles Zenawi, who is already beset by revolts against his ruthless repression of minorities.54 Also, Michele Ruiters, a senior researcher at the Institute for Global Dialogue, makes one of the best arguments against AFRICOM when she states that the ideals of the initiative to bring peace and security to the people of Africa, and promote common goals of development, health, education, democracy and economic growth are commendable, but they are unilateral in their origin and their attachment to a military base or institutional framework leaves much to be desired. She adds that more importantly, as a result of military activity, whether it is foreign or local, a militarized community emerges. Military bases in Asia and South America have produced a culture and economy that are focused on servicing and serving the base. Local women and men become militarized as they seek ways and means to survive and thrive in the presence of the military base.55 Ruiters further reminds us that militarization is not only about protecting interests and resources, but also about the militarization of society that will give birth to a particular type of social relations, which entrench unequal relations between women and men. The military and its business are hypermasculine and based on power-wielding institutions that support the military apparatus. The increased poverty and patriarchal cultural practices continue


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to disadvantage especially women in all spheres of their daily lives, as both women’s and men’s lives are structured to support the military institution in particular ways that worsen these differences. The result is a political culture that resorts to conflict resolution through military means, where masculinity in the military is favored, and where women become vulnerable as a result of the increased presence of militaristic ideals and practices. Moreover, military bases bring unsustainable economic development to the area in which they are established. In countries where unemployment is rife and where most of the unemployed are women, sex work becomes a necessity when women and men need to feed their families. The consequence is women and men becoming more vulnerable and dependent on a patriarchal system for their daily subsistence.56 In fact, as Jack Mangala observes, the announcement of AFRICOM’s creation has been greeted with a wide array of reactions in Africa, ranging from stiff opposition to any additional U.S. military presence on the continent to cautious optimism and enthusiastic offers to house the new command’s permanent location and subsequent forces. Mangala also points out that although the reactions have been overwhelmingly negative, a small number of African governments have publicly voiced support for AFRICOM and stated an interest in housing the Command. Among them are Senegal, Mali, Ghana, Namibia, Sao Tome and Principe, Equatorial Guinea, Kenya, Djibouti, Botswana, and Liberia. But it is Liberia’s president, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, who has been the most vocal in her support and lobbying efforts.57 Given these realities, the United States and its Western allies will be better served by providing assistance to the African Union and the Peace and Security Council that were established to entrench democracy, create economic development, and monitor and secure peace but have not been allowed to develop and mature enough to deal with the continent’s problems. The last thing Africa needs is AFRICOM, a military initiative that will force Africa to engage with American interests on military terms. Conclusion The major findings in this chapter seem to reflect what Guy Martin notes in his study of the United States’ fight against terrorism in the Horn of Africa and the Sahel: Following the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 on New York and Washington, DC, the “War on Terror”—framed, following Samuel Huntington, as a “Clash of Civilizations” between Western civilization and Christianity and Islamic culture and religion—became the top priority of

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United States foreign policy (Huntington, 1996). Following the United States’ wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, this new conflict progressively led to a distinct militarization of United States foreign policy, with the Department of Defense becoming a key actor and relegating the Department of State to second fiddle. As a result (and as an echo of the Cold War era), the top priority in United States African policy became the containment of terrorism. Yet, as this chapter shows through two regional case studies—the Horn of Africa and the Sahel— just as in the previous eras of the fight against Communism and the promotion of Capitalism, the “War against Terrorism” is merely a fig-leaf for the continued defense and promotion of the same basic American economic interests in Africa. The administration of George W. Bush consistently justified not only the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, but also its global foreign policy, in terms of promoting the enduring American ideals of Freedom and Democracy, and of bringing “the Blessings of Liberty” to the “huddled masses” of the world.58

Indeed, the first decade of the new century is witnessing a continuation of the complex and profound changes in the international arena and the further advance of globalization. Development and peace remain the paramount issues of our times. On the one hand, promoting development, safeguarding peace and enhancing cooperation, which are common desires of all peoples, remain imperative. On the other hand, destabilizing factors and uncertainties in the global arena are increasing. Security issues of various kinds are interwoven. Development remains more pressing and peace more illusive. Africa, which encompasses the largest number of developing countries, is an important force for global development and peace. Relations between Africa and the West face fresh opportunities under new circumstances. The two entities must therefore pursue objectives for vibrant and lasting relations and the measures to achieve them. Despite the pronouncements of Afropessimists, whose postulate has been characterized by Rita Kiki Edozie as “an unbalanced, negative interpretation of political processes,”59 Africa, the home of humans, has a long history, abundant natural resources, and huge potential for development. After many years of struggle, Africans freed themselves from slavery and colonial rule, wiped out apartheid, won independence and emancipation, thereby making a significant contribution to the progress of humanity. Africa still faces many challenges on its way toward development. With the persistent efforts of African states and the continuous support of the West and the rest of the international community, Africa will surely overcome the difficulties and achieve rejuvenation in this new century. Thus, in pursuing its “War on Terror,” the West must rethink its policy within the framework of an equitable partnership with Africa. At the core, the United States with its Western allies must be cognizant of the fact that African


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states also have national interests. So, the appropriate approach would be for the Western and African states to work together within a framework of an equitable partnership and find ways in which their respective interests can be harmonized for the benefit of the people. Once this mindset is established, it will then provide the crucible in which relations between Africa and the West will henceforth be conducted. Africa must also realize that it exists in a world in which political and economic strength counts, where might is right, and not one that simply operates on morality. For Africa to be heard and make a positive impact, it must seriously consider the conditions or structures that can sustain economic and political growth. This means that it must be stable and secure. The challenge to the various governments and peoples of Africa is to build an Africa that is noticed for its strengths and not for its misery and weakness. This calls for an Africa that is economically integrated, financially stable, and politically united. Notes 1. Cornel University Law School, “Federal Criminal Code 18 USC §2331,” http:// www.law.cornell.edu/uscode/18/usc_sec_18_00002331----000-.html. 2. Arshi Saleem Hashmi, “Use of Religion in Violent Conflicts by Authoritarian Regimes: Pakistan and Malaysia in Comparative Perspective,” Journal of South Asian and Middle Eastern Studies xxx, 4 (2007): 22–23. 3. Ibid., 23. 4. George Klay Kieh, Jr., ed., Africa and the New Globalization (Aldershot, England: Ashgate Press, 2008), 22. 5. Ann Scott Tyson, “U.S. Pushes Anti-terrorism in Africa, under Longterm Program, Pentagon to Train Soldiers of 9 nations,” Washington Post, July 26, 2005, http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-yn/content/article/2005/07/ 25/AR2005072501801_pf.html. 6. Ibid. 7. Alfred de Montequoiu, “AP Impact: In Algeria, Al-Qaeda Extends Franchise,” Associated Press Wire, June 06, 2009, http://www.ap.com. 8. Ibid. 9. Ibid. 10. Ibid. 11. Wayne Edge, Global Studies Africa, 11th ed. (Dubuque, IA: McGraw-Hill/ Dushkin Company, 2006), 111. 12. Ibid. 13. Ibid., 112. 14. Ibid. 15. Ibid. 16. Tyson, “U.S. Pushes Anti-terrorism.”

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17. Ibid. 18. Lange Schermerhorn, “Djibouti: Fulcrum of the Horn,” Terrorism in the Horn of Africa (Washington, D.C.: United State Institute of Peace) January 2004, http:// www.uisp.org. 19. Ibid. 20. Ibid. 21. Ibid. 22. David Shinn, “Ethiopia and Combating Terrorism: An Important Ally with Its Own Priorities,” Terrorism in the Horn of Africa (Washington, D.C.: United State Institute of Peace) January 2004, www.usip.org. 23. Ibid. 24. Ibid. 25. Ibid. 26. Gilbert Khadiagala, “Kenya: Haven of Helpless Victim of Terrorism,” Terrorism in the Horn of Africa (Washington, D.C.: United State Institute of Peace) January 2004, http://www.usip.org. 27. Ibid. 28. Ibid. 29. Ibid. 30. Ibid. 31. Eric Schmitt, “Africa: Another Anti-terrorism Front,” International Herald Tribune, December 12, 2008, http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/12/12/africa/ mail.php. 32. Ibid. 33. Ibid. 34. Michael Radu, “The Nigerian Threat,” Front Page Magazine.com, June 11, 2004. 35. Ibid. 36. Ibid. 37. Ibid. 38. Ibid. 39. Ibid. 40. Carl Bloice, “Somalia: The Other (Hidden) War for Oil,” Black Commentator, 228, May 3, 2007. 41. Shashank Bengali and Jonathan S. Landay, “U.S. Allies in Africa May Have Engaged in Secret Prisoner Renditions,” McClatchy Newspapers, March 14, 2007, http://prisonplanet.com/articles/march2007/140307renditions.htm. 42. Bloice, “Somalia.” 43. Bengaliu and Landay, “U.S. Allies in Africa.” 44. Bloice, “Somalia.” 45. Ezekiel Pajibo and Emira Woods, “Africom—Wrong for Liberia, Disastrous for the Continent,” Fahamu, July 27, 2007, http://www.allasfrica.com. 46. Bloice, “Somalia.” 47. Bloice; Barney Jopson, “China Wins Permit to Look for Oil in Somalia,” Financial Times, July 14, 2007.


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48. Jopson, “China Wins Permit.” 49. Nick Wadhams, “Somalia Officials Deny Selling Oil Rights,” Voice of America News, August 8, 2007, http://www.voanews.com/english/2007-08-08voa16.cfm. 50. USA-Africa Dialogue, June 30, 2009, http://USAAfricaDialogue@google groups.com. 51. Shehu Sani, “Don’t Force Africa to Bargain its Uranium: The Pressure of Poverty,” November 21, 2003, https://webmail.pas.earthlink.net/wam/printable. jsp?msgid=3349&x=-13111642984. 52. Ibid. 53. Salim Lone, “The Last Thing We Need: The New US Command for Africa Will Militarise the Continent and Inflame a String of Regional Conflicts,” Guardian, March 12, 2007. 54. Ibid. 55. Michele Ruiters, “Why US’ Africom Will Hurt Africa. Business Day,” February 14, 2007, http://www.allafrica.com 56. Ibid. 57. Jack Mangala, “United States Africa Command,” Assessing George W. Bush’s Africa Policy and Suggestions for Barack Obama and African Leaders, J. Mangala and others (New York, NY: Publishers Choice Press/iUniverse, 2009), 31–62. 58. Guy Martin, “Fighting Terrorism in the Horn of Africa and the Sahel,” Assessing George W. Bush’s Africa Policy and Suggestions for Barack Obama and African Leaders, Martin and others (New York, NY: Publishers Choice Press/iUniverse, 2009), 175–176. 59. Rita Kiki Edozie, Reconstructing the Third Wave of Democracy: Comparative African Democratic Politics (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2009), xiii.


CHAPTER 4

Climate Change and the Risk of Conflict in Africa Oli Brown and Alec Crawford

Introduction: The Security Challenge of Climate Change As science has revealed the speed and scope of climate change, we have begun to realize that it holds potentially serious implications for international security. Climate change—by redrawing the maps of water availability, food security, disease prevalence, and coastal boundaries—could increase forced migration, raise tensions, and trigger new conflicts. The imperative to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and manage the impacts of climate change illustrates, in the starkest manner possible, our global interdependence. Recent years have seen the steady improvement in Africa’s economic prospects, in the quality of its governance, in the number and nature of its democracies, and in a reduction in levels of conflict across the continent. The African Union and its constituent regional economic communities, through their security architecture, have developed into key players in the reduction of conflict in the region. Nevertheless, Africa, though the continent the least responsible for greenhouse gas emissions, is almost universally seen as the continent most at risk of climate-induced conflict—a function of the continent’s reliance on climatedependent sectors (such as rain-fed agriculture) and its history of resource, ethnic, and political conflict. With tremendous natural resources and remarkable social and ecological diversity, the continent reflects a close dependency of people on natural resources. It is this dependency and its fragile governance capacities that may present Africa with potentially severe problems in adapting to the challenges of climate change.1

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The security threat posed by climate change has caught the world’s political imagination, generating a perceptible shift in the way that a growing number of decision makers in the North and the South are talking about the subject. Whether human-induced climate change is already playing a role in current conflicts, such as Darfur, is highly controversial. This chapter takes stock of the rapidly increasing literature on the security impacts of climate change. It tries to highlight the areas of agreement among analysts, and note where opinions diverge. It tries to assess, as objectively as possible, the existing evidence on the “security threat” of climate change in Africa, and to determine which sectors and regions are most likely to suffer from the conflict impacts of climate change. Conflict is Multidimensional In this chapter we argue that climate change presents very real development challenges that, under certain circumstances, may contribute to the emergence and longevity of conflict. “Conflict” itself is a dispute or incompatibility between two or more opposing sides. It is normal and not inherently negative. Indeed we all encounter, negotiate, and manage conflicts every day of our lives. Mediating differing interests in a peaceful manner is at the heart of the democratic process. It becomes a destructive force where the capacity to mediate incompatible interests breaks down and those interests are pursued through violence, either at a community, national, or international level. Throughout the report, the word “conflict” is used as convenient shorthand for “violent conflict.” Many factors impact the probability of armed conflict. Poverty levels, natural resource endowments, population characteristics, ethnic and religious fractionalization, education levels, geography, as well as previous conflicts, are all factors that constrain or facilitate conflict. Climate change is only one of the many security, environmental, and developmental challenges facing Africa. Climate change is, in effect, a “threat multiplier” that makes existing concerns, such as water scarcity and food insecurity, more complex and intractable. However, it is non-climate factors (such as poverty, governance, conflict management, regional diplomacy, and so on) that will largely determine whether and how climate change moves from being a development challenge to presenting a security threat. Recent research broadly agrees that four main climate links to conflict in Africa may emerge. First, reduced water supply and growing demand will, in some places, lead to increasing competition between different sectors of society, different communities, and different countries. Under certain conditions, such as poor governance and existing ethnic division, these stresses

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may turn violent. Second, reductions in crop yields and increasingly unpredictable weather patterns around the world may lead to higher prices for food, cause greater food insecurity, and increase the stakes for control over productive agricultural land. Third, changes in sea level, increased natural disasters, and the reduced viability of agricultural land may cause large-scale and destabilizing population movements. Finally, the cumulative impact of all these challenges on the prevalence of poverty and the ability of governments to provide services to their citizens could be a factor that tips fragile states toward socioeconomic and political collapse. The often thin line between security and insecurity, and between stability and instability, will be determined by three broad factors: first, the extent and speed of climate change (structural conditions); second, the ability of countries and communities to adapt to those changes (institutional capacity); and third, how individuals, communities, and governments react to the challenges that arise (responsiveness). The Problem of Prediction The scientific basis for climate change is well established.2 However, there is still little empirical proof for a directly causal link between climate change and violent conflict. To an extent this is unsurprising. The science of climate change is complex enough, even before considering its impact on societies with widely differing resources and varied capacities to adapt to external shocks. The projected impact of climate change on societies is, of course, even more uncertain than the projected climate change itself, being a projection based on a projection. Some argue climate change is already playing a role in existing conflicts. A June 2007 report by the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) suggested that the conflict in Darfur has been in part driven by climate change and environmental degradation. The UNEP report warned of “a succession of new wars across Africa” unless more is done to contain the danger of climate change. The report concluded that “Darfur . . . holds grim lessons for other countries at risk.” In a 2007 Washington Post editorial UN secretary general Ban Ki-moon argued: “Almost invariably, we discuss Darfur in a convenient military and political short-hand—an ethnic conflict pitting Arab militias against black rebels and farmers. Look to its roots, though, and you discover a more complex dynamic. Amid the diverse social and political causes, the Darfur conflict began as an ecological crisis, arising at least in part from climate change.”3 However, others caution that we should not overemphasize the role of climate change in Darfur. Kevane and Gray4 doubt that a reduction in

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rainfall is correlated to the conflict. De Waal5 argues that responsibility for the conflict lies primarily with power and governance rather than water and pasture: “Climate change causes livelihood change, which in turn causes disputes. Social institutions can handle these conflicts and settle them in a non-violent manner—it is mismanagement and militarization that cause war and massacre.” There have been some attempts to construct scenarios of the security implications of climate change at a regional and global scale.6 There are also increasingly detailed studies on the interaction between climate stresses and conflict at a community level.7 Finally, work is beginning on the ways that international community can use adaptation funding as a way of achieving the twin aims of preventing conflict and reducing climate risk.8 However, this emerging literature has been criticized on a number of grounds. First, it is accused of having its roots in neo-Malthusian notions of the “carrying capacity” of a country where population growth or shrinking resources will eventually lead to conflict, an approach that many find unnecessarily deterministic and negative.9 This tends to assume the worst of people—that they will fight rather than cooperate over scarce resources—and underestimates African populations’ capacities to adapt to different conditions and to manage conflicts.10 It also fails to account for different levels of development on resource consumption, resource scarcity, and conflict. Highly developed economies, for example, may experience less conflict over resources even as demand increases.11 Second, it can downplay some significant regional variations in climate predictions for Africa. Although regional climate models are still basic (reflecting, in large part, patchy capacity to collect primary meteorological data), nuances in the data are emerging (for instance, in some areas rainfall is predicted to increase) that frustrate broad generalizations. Third, like much research about the links between environmental change and security, the literature on climate change and conflict tends to focus on the structural conditions in which conflict emerges (such as resource scarcity or abundance, poverty etc.) rather than the role of individuals in initiating, sustaining, resisting or resolving conflict. It tends to downplay the short-term causes (or triggers) of conflict and the importance of human decisions—the choices made by individual “actors” in a conflict.12 In this chapter we argue that climate change presents very real challenges to development. Projected climatic changes for Africa suggest a future of increasingly scarce water, collapsing agricultural yields, encroaching desert, and damaged coastal infrastructure. Such impacts, should they occur, could cause destabilizing population movements and raise tensions over dwindling strategic resources. In such a case, climate change could be a factor that tips fragile states toward socioeconomic and political collapse. As such it can


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be seen as a “threat multiplier” that makes existing concerns, such as water scarcity and food insecurity, more complex and intractable.13 Section 1: Climate Change in Africa The Current and Future Climate in Africa Climate change and climate variability (or unpredictability) are challenges that already face many African countries. Garcia argues that climate change has already started to disrupt states’ capacity to generate wealth, to decrease gross national product, and to affect human, and ultimately national, security in Africa.14 The UN estimates nine out of every ten disasters are climate related.15 According to John Holmes, the under-secretary general for humanitarian affairs, “What we are witnessing is not an aberration but rather a ‘curtain raiser’ on the future.” These events, he suggests, are the “new normal.”16 The continent’s climate is made up of seven distinct zones.17 Widely different ecosystems from the Sahara to the rainforests of central Africa to the (disappearing) snows of Kilimanjaro mean that the impact of climate change will vary between and within countries. However, determining the sub-regional impacts of climate change with any confidence is difficult. In this section, we will examine five aspects of the climate system: temperature, rainfall, extreme weather events, sea-level rise, and nonlinear (“surprise”) events. Temperature Average annual temperatures in Africa rose approximately 0.5◦ C over the course of the twentieth century, with some areas warming faster than others. The countries of the Nile Basin, for example, saw an increase in temperature of between 0.2◦ C and 0.3◦ C per decade in the second half of the century, while Rwanda saw temperatures increase by 0.7◦ C–0.9◦ C over the same 50-year period.18 This gradual heating meant more warm spells and fewer cold days across the continent.19 Africa is likely to warm across all seasons during this century.20 For a medium warming scenario, annual mean surface air temperatures are expected to increase between 3◦ C and 4◦ C by 2099, roughly 1.5 times average global temperatures (as land masses warm more than water bodies).21 Across all emissions scenarios, temperatures in Africa are expected to increase by between 2◦ C and 6◦ C by 2100.22 There are significant regional variations within these projections. The drier subtropical regions are expected to warm more than the moist tropics, with warming likely to be greatest over the interior of the semiarid margins of

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the Sahara and central southern Africa.23 Using a medium warming scenario, Hudson and Jones find that temperatures in southern Africa would increase by 3.7◦ C in the summer and 4◦ C in the winter.24 Under a high warming scenario, temperature increases are expected to be more dramatic: according to one model developed by Ruosteenoja et al.,25 temperatures could increase by up to 9◦ C for North Africa in June to August, and by up to 7◦ C for southern Africa in September to November by the end of the century. Rainfall Rainfall currently varies considerably across Africa, both spatially and temporally.26 In recent decades, the continent’s subtropical zones have become more arid, particularly the Saharan and Mediterranean regions and southern Africa.27 In southern Africa, there has been an increase in interannual variability over the past 40 years, with more intense and widespread droughts. Heavy rainfall events have increased for many of the countries in the region (Angola, Namibia, Mozambique, Malawi, and Zambia), along with changes in seasonality and weather extremes.28 East Africa has seen an increase in annual rainfall, with some regional variations. In West Africa, rainfall has actually increased in the last ten years when compared from the extended drought years from the 1960s to the 1990s, which saw annual mean rainfall drop by as much as 30 percent.29 On a global scale, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) projects a 1–2 percent increase in rainfall for every degree of temperature warming.30 But for Africa, regional differences abound. According to the IPCC, under a medium warming scenario mean annual rainfall is predicted to decrease along the Mediterranean coast by 20 percent, extending into the northern Sahara.31 Rainfall is likely to increase in tropical and eastern Africa by around 7 percent, though changes will not be uniform throughout the year, and will likely occur in unpredictable events.32 In southern Africa, winter rains will decrease, by up to 40 percent in the extreme west. Climate models for West Africa vary considerably, and are still inadequate for predicting the impact of warming temperatures on rainfall with any accuracy. In short, there is no consensus on whether the region will become wetter or drier.33 Recently, models have started pointing toward rainfall increases, as increased temperatures and carbon dioxide concentrations lead to both a northward shift in the West African Monsoon and an increase in vegetative cover, with a positive feedback loop on precipitation.34 These long-term precipitation rates are important, however their extended timescale means that populations may have more time to adapt. This is not the case with short-term variability; both long-term trends and short-term (year-to-year) variability in rainfall must be considered. For farmers in Africa,


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predictions of the total quantity rainfall do not always capture the impact of climate variability. Factors such as the timing of the onset of the first rains (which affects when crops are planted), the distribution of rains within the growing season and the effectiveness of the rains are all criteria that affect the success of farming.35 In terms of rainfall variability, Hendrix and Glaser find that annual precipitation flux is projected to increase in western Africa and decrease in southern Africa over the century.36 In addition, few trends emerge when measuring interannual variability across Sub-Saharan Africa. In other words, rainfall variability will not be uniform across the continent, and will remain unpredictable across seasons. Extreme Weather Events For many African countries, natural disasters involve too much or too little rain: the Sahel witnessed a series of devastating drought years between the 1960s and 1990s, while more recently, Mozambique (2000 and 2001), Ethiopia (2006), and Ghana (2007) have experienced severe flooding, to name only a few examples. Warmer temperatures are projected to increase both the frequency and intensity of extreme weather events for the continent: heavy rain storms, flooding, forest fires, and El Niño phenomenon.37 Climate models predict an increasing share of annual rains falling during intense precipitation events; they also point toward a lengthening of drought periods.38 Regions of particular concern include the Mediterranean coast and southern Africa, which are both expected to see an increased in the risk of drought.39 More rain in East Africa could increase the risk of flooding. Contradictory models for the Sahel do not point toward a definitive trend in floods or drought, though Huntingford et al. argue that the number of extremely dry and wet years in the region is likely to increase over the century.40 Finally, by century’s end more frequent and intense storms are projected in the southern Indian Ocean; a 2◦ C–4◦ C rise in sea surface temperature could very probably lead to a 10–20 percent increase in cyclone activity on Africa’s eastern coast, with implications for populations in both island and coastal communities.41 Sea-Level Rise The sea-level rise witnessed in the twentieth century was for the first time observed to be driven primarily by human-induced warming. An increase of meltwater into the world’s oceans and a thermal expansion caused by warming sea temperatures both contributed to the rise, which since 1993 has averaged 3 mm per year.42 Without action on greenhouse gas emissions,

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and barring any nonlinear events (see next section), a global rise of between 0.2m and 0.6m can be expected by 2100 across all IPCC scenarios.43 Rising sea levels will carry with them significant implications for coastal settlements and populations, and are likely to increase the socioeconomic and physical vulnerability of many of Africa’s coastal cities. Those most susceptible are poor populations living along the coast in areas potentially vulnerable to flooding.44 Nonlinear Events Projections of future climate change have tended to focus on the most probable outcome based on mathematical modeling of what we already know about the world’s climate. Climate change is typically discussed in terms of a linear progression of rising temperatures, falling rainfall, and so on. However, as temperatures warm beyond 2◦ C–3◦ C, critical thresholds in the climate system risk being crossed, and positive feedback loops in the climate system may set in train dramatic changes to our climate—so-called nonlinear events. At this point analysts warn that our ability to influence the resulting effects is likely to be lost.45 Many of these nonlinear events may at first seem outside of the immediate concern of African states: the melting of the Greenland ice sheet, for instance, or large-scale die-back of the Amazon rainforest. However, all carry significant global consequences. Should the Greenland ice sheet melt, global sea levels are expected to rise seven meters. This would amplify the coastal impacts listed above. In addition, the infusion of cold freshwater would affect the Atlantic’s ecosystem and West African fisheries, could alter Africa’s tropical rain belt, and could also weaken oceanic circulation in the North Atlantic.46 Section 2: African Security in a Changing Climate: Areas of Concern In their 2007 Fourth Assessment Report, the UN’s IPCC noted that Africa is one of the most vulnerable continents to climate change (future weather patterns) and climate variability (how predictable those patterns are). This vulnerability is both a function of the continent’s complex climate system and that system’s interaction with socioeconomic challenges like endemic poverty, poor governance, limited access to capital and global markets, ecosystem degradation, complex disasters and conflicts, and urbanization—all of which may undermine communities’ ability to adapt to climate change.47 Not all parts of Africa are equally vulnerable to climate change. Within any country, vulnerability to climate change can vary from village to village and from person to person. Women, in their roles as principal caregivers, but


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often with fewer rights and freedom of action, may be more affected. But it is not always the poorest who are most exposed to climate change. Africa is changing in a variety of profound ways, not just in terms of its climate. Its population is growing and moving, its economy is evolving, and the health of its environmental resources is declining. Future climate change will take place against a backdrop of these powerful socioeconomic challenges. How these are managed will determine the ability of African countries and communities to adapt to climate change. The scale of resource use and environmental stress in Africa will be sharply accentuated by population growth. Africa’s population is predicted to double by the middle of the century from 987 million people, or 15 percent of the global population, to just under 2 billion (or 22 percent of the global total) by 2050.48 Meanwhile, an increasing number of people are moving to Africa’s cities—at a rate of 3 percent per annum. While still predominantly rural, 50 percent of Africans will live in cities by 2030, doubling Africa’s urban population from 373.4 million to 759.4 million. By 2050, that number is expected to be more than 1.2 billion.49 The continent is likely to experience a continuing trend of land degradation. The UN estimates that over 70 percent of Africa’s agricultural drylands are degraded as a result of overcultivation, mismanagement of irrigated croplands, overgrazing, and deforestation.50 Already approximately 3,500 square kilometers of Nigerian land turns to desert each year, forcing both farms and herdsmen to abandon their lands.51 Together with climate change these trends will affect the availability of and demand for water, food, and agricultural land. These challenges will interact with external factors such as the health of the international economy and the level of aid flows and internal factors such as the quality of governance to shape Africa’s prospects. This section picks out the four pressing issues most commonly identified by analysts: increasing water scarcity, decreasing food security, increasing climate-induced migration, and the impact of climate change on poverty and state fragility. Each section assesses the degree of existing problem, the threat posed by climate change, and the evidence for it becoming a threat to security. Increased Water Scarcity Existing Water Stress in Africa Access to clean water is a major problem in many African countries. Onethird of all people in Africa live in drought-prone regions. One-quarter (about 200 million people) currently experience significant water stress.52 Drought accounted for 31 percent of all natural disasters in Africa between 1975

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and 2002. Floods accounted for another 26 percent.53 Ethiopia, Eritrea, and Somalia have suffered more deaths through drought over the last century— 600,000 by one estimate—than any other part of Africa. These countries have also experienced persistent conflict, internally and regionally. Drought and famine remain major underlying threats to security. In many places, the problem of water is one of both quantity and quality. Increasingly, the problem is not one simply of overuse but also pollution. Agricultural runoff as well as industrial and household waste put lakes, rivers, and coastal waters under stress, causing significant health and development problems. Two-thirds of the rural population and one-quarter of the urban population in Africa lack access to safe drinking water.54 Even before factoring in climate change many African countries are heading toward a crisis in terms of their economically usable, land-based freshwater resources as a result of population growth and increased demand. Agricultural use of freshwater is predicted to rise by 30 percent between 2005 and 2025.55 The IPCC estimates several countries in Africa, particularly in North Africa, will exceed the limits of their economically usable land-based water resources by 2025.56 In some regions of Africa water interdependence is very high; for example, the 17 countries in West Africa share 25 transboundary rivers,57 the Nile Basin extends over ten countries and the Nubian sandstone aquifer is shared by four countries. This means that economic progress is intimately tied to water management elsewhere—often a rationale for better cooperation, but also a cause for tension and conflict. Climate change will aggravate the water stress currently felt by some countries, may relieve it in others, while still other countries that are not currently water stressed will become at risk. Broadly, there is widespread agreement that climate change and variability are likely to impose additional pressures on water availability and accessibility in Africa.58 Using a range of scenarios, the IPCC estimates that by 2020 an additional 75–250 million people in Africa are likely to be at risk of increased water stress. By 2050 this population is projected to be between 350 million and 600 million.59 In addition, increased variability of rainfall will also pose problems for the capture and storage of water between periods of heavy rainfall. The Link to Conflict The extent to which interstate conflict over water could occur in the future is controversial. According to one study, historical data would imply that water is not a reliable cause of interstate conflict: between 1945 and 1999 the importance of water led to twice as many instances of cooperation as conflicts between countries sharing the same water.60 Indeed there are some


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striking examples of cooperation over water between fundamentally hostile parties (e.g., between Israel and Palestine, and India and Pakistan). But water is rarely an isolated problem; it can be highly politically sensitive and is closely connected with other socioeconomic and foreign policy issues. The twin pressures of demand growth and climate change may put existing international management mechanisms, such as those governing the Nile, under severe strain. Gleditsch et al. found that shared river basins increase the likelihood of conflict between neighboring countries.61 The UN has identified nine river basins in Africa that are at risk for the onset of tensions or conflict, among them the Kunene, Okvanago, Zambezi, Limpopo, Orange, and Nile.62 Other research points to water being a source of conflict at a community level—particularly in cases where no formal rules or agreements on the use of the water resources had been agreed.63 Focusing on community-level conflict, Raleigh and Urdal found an empirical link between reduced freshwater resources and an increased likelihood of conflict.64 There is also tension when water resources are diverted from agricultural areas to cities and the industries located there.65 Likewise, Nyong and Fiki argue that recurrent droughts interacting with other social and economic factors have resulted in conflicts among rural populations in the West African Sahel.66 Decreased Food Security Food Insecurity in Africa In 2004, 1.1 billion people were undernourished in the world—230 million of whom were in Africa.67 Although global food production more than doubled between 1961 and 2003 the growth in agricultural production in Africa has not kept pace with population growth.68 Food insecurity is, of course, a more complex problem than the simple availability of food; it is a function of poverty, poor governance, and inequity within countries. Nevertheless, within the last decade, food shortages have affected 25 African countries and placed as many as 200 million people “on the verge of calamity.”69 Given Africa’s high dependence on rain-fed agriculture, food production on the continent is intimately tied to rainfall. African farmers have developed many different ways to cope with existing climate variability (such as contour bunding, Zäi agriculture). However such innovations may not be sufficient for future climate pressures. According to a study quoted in WBGU in 2007, climate change will result in an increase in drylands and areas under water stress by 2080.70 As a result of climate change this arid and semiarid area could expand by 5–8 percent, equaling a loss of productivity in another 50–90 million hectares of arable land.

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The IPCC notes that the causal contribution of climate to food insecurity in Africa is still not fully understood, particularly the role of other stresses that enhance the impacts of droughts and floods and possible future climate change.71 Nevertheless, they suggest that unabated climate change could, by 2080, mean an additional 30–170 million people suffer from malnutrition or undernutrition, of whom three-quarters will live in Sub-Saharan Africa. Rising sea levels and temperatures will also negatively impact food supplies. It is predicted that Egypt, for example, will be affected by both temperature increases and sea-level rise. The first would increase evapotranspiration from the soil and the water needs of agriculture, resulting in declining yields. The second would inundate some of the most fertile and densely populated land in Egypt. According to a report for the German government, a sea-level rise of 37 cm by 2060 would cause food self-sufficiency in Egypt to decline from 60 percent in 1990 to 10 percent by 2060.72 The Link to Conflict Drops in food production could trigger regional food crises and further undermine the economic performance of weak and unstable states.73 Nyong and Fiki argue that conflict in Sub-Saharan African countries has been associated with per capita annual declines in food production of over 12 percent.74 If climate change leads to drops in agricultural production on a wide scale, prices of many agricultural commodities may rise, leaving individuals and countries financially overstretched. Food crises would be amplified in countries with existing inequality: if the majority of the population is hungry while a small minority is unaffected, outbreaks of violence are more likely than if the entire population is negatively affected.75 However, whether a decline in food production leads to violent conflict will be determined by a complex range of other social, economic, and demographic factors. In general the greater the part played by agriculture in employment and national food security as a whole, the more vulnerable a country is to the economic effects of a decline in agricultural production. Countries with higher incomes may be able to rely on food imports to offset domestic drops in production, but this option may not be open to poorer countries. Large-Scale Climate-Induced Migration Existing Refugee Crises in Africa Already more than 30 percent of the world’s refugees and internally displaced people are housed by African countries.76 North Africa is already a migration


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destination (for internal as well as cross-border migrants), and is a transit area for people from Sub-Saharan Africa and Asia attempting to reach Europe. In certain locations, this has already given rise to problems of social unrest and attacks on migrants as well as human trafficking and an increasing number of fatalities from attempted sea crossings. Climate change and its impacts will affect a growing number of people, and migration hotspots around Africa are likely to increase. Often living on marginal land, in disaster-prone areas, and with few resources in reserve, African populations are particularly vulnerable. One-third already live in drought-prone areas, and sea level rise could threaten the viability of coastal settlements. Six of the ten largest cities in Africa are located on the coast.77 The Niger delta alone is home to 20 million people.78 In West Africa, 40 percent of the population lives in coastal cities, and it is expected that by 2020 the coastline between Accra and the Niger Delta will be fully urbanized, with more than 50 million inhabitants.79 Migratory pressures can be expected to increase in the rest of Africa, and in the Sahel in particular, due to heightening stress and tensions from rising populations: by 2020 the population of the Sahelian countries will have quadrupled since 1960, while it is estimated that between 2025 and 2050 the population of North Africa will increase by around 50 million.80 The Link to Conflict Migration itself is not inherently problematic, and indeed it can be an important way of adapting to the impacts of climate change. However, experience shows that migration can increase the likelihood of conflict in transit and target regions.81 Barnett and Adger argue that the influx of migrants into new areas has been a significant factor in many “environmental conflicts.”82 What does seem to be the most important factor in violent conflict are the political and institutional responses to migrants. Large population movements are already recognized by the UN Security Council as constituting a potential threat to international peace and security, particularly if there are existing social and ethnic tensions.83 Large-scale population displacement will redraw the ethnic map of many countries, bringing previously separate groups into close proximity with each other and in competition for the same resources. In the context of poor governance, poverty, and easy access to small arms these situations may turn violent.84 Nyong notes that over the course of the twentieth century, decreasing rainfall in the Sahel pushed northern pastoralists southward into land occupied by sedentary farmers, leading to conflicts and widespread destruction of farmland and cattle.85 Meanwhile, to meet the growing needs for food, farmers are

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expanding into marginal lands traditionally used by pastoralists, heightening competition between livestock and agricultural production. However, Nyong warns that we need to understand such conflicts in their socioeconomic context. In addition to marking a transition from pastoral to agricultural production, the Sahel is a zone of cultural and linguistic transition, where the Islamic culture from the north mingles with the traditional cultures of the south. The region’s large number of different ethnic groups—as well as in-migration from several new ones—creates the potential for conflict, as these groups have different interests in the resource base, possess different skills, and claim rights over different resources and areas.86 The Impact of Climate Change on Poverty and State Fragility Poverty and State Fragility in Africa Almost half the population of Sub-Saharan Africa lives on less than one dollar a day. The region has experienced only sporadic growth in the last 40 years and despite some improvements during the past decade, Africa as a whole is not growing fast enough to keep up with the rest of the world, let alone to achieve eventual convergence with developed countries. There are many complex reasons for this: inadequate governance, crippling debt, limited infrastructure, disease and inadequate healthcare, reliance on natural resources, and ongoing cycles of conflict. While life expectancy in other parts of the world typically exceeds 60 years, in Africa it remains low at 49.6 years.87 Together, these factors inhibit the ability of many countries and communities to adapt to the impacts of climate change. Poorer countries are likely to have fewer resources and less stamina to deal with climate change, even in its early, modest manifestations.88 At the same time, 17 countries in Sub-Saharan Africa are included in lists of the world’s most fragile states, among them Angola, Chad, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Nigeria, Somalia, Sudan, and Zimbabwe.89 Natural disasters already have devastating impacts; for example, the two cyclones that hit in Mozambique in 2000 displaced 500,000 people and left 950,000 people dependent on humanitarian assistance. Beyond the human toll (e.g., an estimated 500,000 dead from the Sahelian droughts spanning the 1960s to the 1990s), the economic losses are significant: several 100 million U.S. dollars were lost in the African droughts of the mid-1980s, primarily in the Sahel, Horn of Africa, and across the south of the continent.90 Climate change could undermine economic growth and inhibit poverty reduction in numerous ways. Many African economies are heavily dependent on agriculture, and cash crops such as cotton and cocoa are likely to be


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affected by increasing temperatures and changing rainfall patterns. Droughts will impact hydroelectric power generation, which accounts for 80 percent of total electricity production in 18 African countries.91 In Ghana, if rainfall decreases over the Sahel to the north reduced water flow from the Volta River would lower available water for irrigation and also put pressure on the power supply (hydroelectric generation from the Akosombo Dam accounts for 60 percent of energy in the country). Tensions with the population in the arid, underdeveloped northern part of the country might increase—a pattern that may be replicated in neighboring Côte d’Ivoire, Togo, and Benin, as well as Senegal.92 Meanwhile, oil production and stability in the Niger delta may be threatened by sea-level rise. The World Health Organization has argued that the spread of infectious diseases is likely to be a major consequence of climate change.93 Malaria represents a particular and additional threat in Africa; a high proportion of the world’s 300–500 million cases of malaria are found on the continent.94 The Stern Review estimated that by 2100 between 165,000 and 250,000 more children may die each year from a variety of causes than would be the case in a world without climate change.95 The Link to Conflict The cumulative impacts of increasing food and water insecurity, mass population movements, more extreme natural disasters, and the burden of more prevalent diseases threaten to strain or overwhelm the capacity of governments to meet the basic needs of their people. Fundamentally, climate change threatens to exacerbate these trends and undermine governments’ ability to ensure security and stability. Growing water and food insecurity, coupled with the impact of migratory flows, will put increasing pressure on the provision of basic needs and may exacerbate existing ethnic and political tensions. A general link between a country’s level of economic development and its propensity for conflict is widely acknowledged.96 Miguel, Satyanath, and Sergenti tried to estimate the effect of economic shocks on the likelihood of conflict in Sub-Saharan Africa.97 Because the region is agrarian and irrigation is not widely practiced they argued that rainfall was a plausible instrument for economic growth. Using data on rainfall variability they found that increased rainfall tended to increase economic growth and reduce the risk of conflict. The report of the German Advisory Council on Global Change argues that North Africa in particular faces the potential for political crisis and increased migratory pressure as a result of the interaction between increasing drought and water scarcity, high population growth, a drop in agricultural potential, and “poor political problem-solving capabilities.”98

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The Unknown Factor: Nonlinear Climate Change So far this chapter has focused on the implications of the relatively linear and conservative scientific predictions of climate change. However, there are growing concerns that as a result of innate scientific caution, incomplete data sets, and a tendency for scientists to steer away from controversy, these predictions have been consistently below what has actually transpired.99 The threat of nonlinear climate change, where feedback loops set in train dramatic changes in the Earth’s climate beyond which we can influence, would have consequences for economic and political stability that are hard to model or predict with any degree of accuracy.

Section 3: Strategies for Peace and Development in a Changing Climate The Challenge of Climate Change While our climate has always been in a state of flux, scientific evidence now points to unprecedented changes in climate patterns that present African governments with a range of daunting development challenges: how to meet the water and food needs of a growing population, how to increase communities’ resilience to drought and floods, how to expand economies in spite of potentially more adverse and unpredictable weather, and how to share increasingly scarce resources between different sectors of society and the economy. If left unchecked, these challenges will inhibit the ability of governments to provide basic services, they will undermine employment and livelihoods, they will lead to unplanned and destabilizing migration, and they may inflame tensions between neighboring communities and countries over shared resources. Cumulatively, they threaten to make developing countries more fragile and to push already-fragile states toward collapse. Ultimately the extent to which climate change triggers “a succession of new wars” in Africa, as UNEP’s report100 on Sudan predicted, depends more on governments and governance that on the strength of the climate “signal” itself. It is non-climate factors (such as poverty, governance, conflict management, regional diplomacy, and so on) that will largely determine whether and how climate change moves from being a development challenge to presenting a security threat. It is an error to try to oversimplify the relationships—people do not experience climate change in isolation of the many other factors that affect their lives. Many parts of Africa are already experiencing severe problems of available land, water, and food. By broadly labeling most environmental


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change-related security issues as being the result of climate change, we risk inadvertently limiting the range of possible responses.101 Clearly, the challenge of climate change is one that is beyond the capacity of any one country to tackle. Ultimately, its shared security implications will be best resolved through cooperation at a myriad of levels: cooperation to develop comprehensive international strategies to manage forced migration, to share the most innovative approaches for adaptation and to administer shared resources. With this sentiment in mind this chapter concludes with four broad strategies that, together, may address the security challenges of climate change in Africa. Strategy 1: Improve Projections and Predictions Traditionally, the international community has been poor at developing effective “early warning” systems to predict conflict over political, ethnic or economic issues. Adding the meteorological uncertainties of climate change to the mix adds a whole new layer of uncertainty to such an exercise. It is unlikely that the international community will ever be able to generate models of sufficient complexity and nuance to forecast where climate-induced conflict may break out with accuracy. Nevertheless, there is much progress that could be made on understanding climate change and its impacts in Africa so as to generate more effective responses. In particular there is a need for better projections of climate change in Africa, and a better understanding of the interaction between climate change and conflict; more investment in climate data and analysis capabilities on the continent; international cooperation on the provision of climate information; and research agendas that are inclusive of determining migratory flows, “vulnerability assessments,” and conflict risks. Strategy 2: Minimize Dangerous Climate Change Climate change presents a major threat to the prospects for sustained economic growth and development in Africa. The security impacts of climate change will be determined by the extent of climate change. Efforts to mitigate global warming must therefore be supported. In particular, efforts should be made to facilitate an ambitious and determined shift in the way the world produces and uses energy, ensure global agreement on stronger commitments to reduce greenhouse gas emissions while fully recognizing Africa’s legitimate development needs, invest in clean energy projects in Africa and provide support for avoided deforestation, and support the widespread provision of clean energy in Africa through the transfer of renewable energy technology.

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Strategy 3: Adapt to The Impacts of Climate Change Regardless of whether the international community manages to strike an ambitious deal to succeed the Kyoto Protocol, the inherent inertia of the climate systems (in that past emissions will cause future warming) means that a certain amount of climate change is “locked in.” This means that African countries will need to adapt to the changes that a warming climate will force on them.102 African populations have demonstrated for centuries a tremendous ability to adapt to climate variability, often employing sophisticated, evolving tactics to respond to risks and take advantage of new opportunities. The present concern, however, is that the even extraordinary “adaptive capacity” of African populations may not be able to keep pace with the scale and speed of climate change.103 For that, they will likely need outside help. Adaptation to climate change, if managed carefully, can also tackle some of the core causes of conflict. In terms of the conflict implications of climate change particular efforts should be made to build the capacity of national governments to address climate risks, by inter alia, ensuring better water management, promoting agricultural development, and developing more effective disaster management and early warning systems; provide substantial and predictable financial support from development partners to help meet the additional costs of adaptation; undertake climate sensitive urban planning and the construction of climate-resilient infrastructure; generate a better understanding of successful adaptive strategies occurring at the local level, share strategies for “best practice” adaptation, and integrate the impact of climate change into national development strategies and existing policies including security risk assessments; educate women on adaptive strategies, as they are primarily those involved in agricultural production; and ensure that adaptation strategies do not undermine adaptive strategies elsewhere nor crowd out other important development concerns.

Strategy 4: Integrate Climate Change into all Relevant Levels of Governance The available predications, projections, and perspectives need to be integrated at every relevant level of government, regional, and international policy. At the international level, efforts should be made to sustain attention of the international community on the security risks of climate change and enhance international cooperation on the detection and monitoring of security threats. The international community needs to follow through on its aid and peacekeeping commitments to Africa, and sustain attention and support


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for failing and fragile states. African countries must improve their governance if they are to avoid the debilitating effects of climate change. Notes 1. O. Brown and A. Crawford, “Climate Change: A New Threat to Stability in West Africa? Evidence for Ghana and Burkina Faso,” African Security Review 17, no. 3 (2008): 39–57. 2. M. Boko, I. Niang, A. Nyong, C. Vogel, A. Githeko, M. Medany, B. OsmanElasha, R. Tabo, and P. Yanda, Climate Change 2007: Impacts, Adaptation and Vulnerability. Contribution of Working Group II to the Fourth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, ed. M.L. Parry, O.F. Canziani, J.P. Palutikof, P.J. van der Linden and C.E. Hanson (Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 2007). 3. B. Ki-moon “A Climate Culprit in Darfur,” Washington Post, June 16, 2007. 4. M. Kevane and L. Gray, “Darfur: Rainfall and Conflict,” Environmental Research Letters 3, no. 3 (2008): 1–1.0. 5. A. De Waal, “Is Climate Change the culprit for Darfur?” blog posting, June 25, 2007, Social Science Research Council, www.ssrc.org/blogs/darfur/2007/06/25/ is-climate-change-the-culprit-for-darfur/. 6. K.M. Campbell, J. Gulledge, J.R. McNeill, J. Podesta, P. Ogden, L. Fuerth, R.J. Woolsey, A.T.J. Lennon, J. Smith, R. Weitz and D. Miz, The Age of Consequences: The Foreign Policy and National Security Implications of Global Climate Change (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS) and Center for a New American Security (CNAS), 2007). 7. A. Nyong and C. Fiki, “Drought-Related Conflicts, Management and Resolution in the West African Sahel,” paper presented at international workshop on Human Security and Climate Change, Oslo, 2005; P. Meier, D. Bond, and J. Bond, “Environmental Influences on Pastoral Conflict in the Horn of Africa,” Political Geography 26 (2007): 716–735. 8. International Alert, 2008. 9. C. Obi “Globalised Images of Environmental Security in Africa,” Review of African Political Economy 27, no. 83 (2000): 47–62. 10. S.P.J. Batterbury and A. Warren, “The African Sahel 25 Years after the Great Drought: Assessing Progress and Moving towards New Agendas and Approaches,” Global Environmental Change 11, no. 1 (2001): 1–8. 11. C.S. Hendrix and S.M. Glaser, “Trends and Triggers: Climate, Climate Change and Civil Conflict in Sub-Saharan Africa,” Political Geography 26 (2007): 695–715. 12. J. Barnett and N. Adger, “Security and Climate Change: Towards an Improved Understanding” paper presented at international workshop on Human Security and Climate Change, June 21–23, 2005, Oslo. 13. CNA Corporation, National Security and the Threat of Climate Change (Washington: CNA Corporation, 2007).

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14. D. Garcia, “The Climate Security Divide: Bridging Human and National Security in Africa,” African Security Review, Institute for Security Studies 17, no. 3 (2008): 2–17. 15. J. Holmes, “The Need for Collaboration,” Forced Migration Review: Climate Change and Displacement, Issue 31 (October 2008): 4, Oxford Refugee Studies Centre. 16. Ibid. 17. The seven different climatic zones are: tropical rainforest; tropical wet and dry; tropical dry; mountain; Mediterranean; middle latitude dry; and humid subtropical. S. Eriksen, K. O’Brien, and L. Losentrater, “Climate Change in Eastern and Southern Africa: Impacts, Vulnerability and Adaptation,” Global Environmental Change and Human Security, Report (2008): 2. 18. Eriksen, O’Brien, and Losentrater, “Climate Change in Eastern and Southern Africa”. 19. Boko, Climate Change 2007. 20. Ibid. 21. Ibid. 22. M. Hulme, “Climatic Perspectives on Sahelian Desiccation: 1973–1998,” Global Environmental Change 11 (2001): 19–29. 23. Eriksen, O’Brien, and Losentrater, “Climate Change in Eastern and Southern Africa.” 24. D.A. Hudson and R.G. Jones (2002). “Regional Climate Model Simulations of Present Day and Future Climates of Southern Africa,” Technical Note 39 (2002): 42. 25. K. Ruosteenoja, T.R. Carter, K. Jylha, and H. Tuomenvirt, Future Climate in World Regions: An Intercomparison of Model-Based Projects for the New IPCC Emissions Scenarios (Helsinki, Finnish Environment Institute no. 644, 2003), 83. 26. Boko, Climate Change 2007. 27. WBGU, Climate Change as a Security Risk, German Advisor Council on Global Change, WBGU (London: Earthscan, 2007). 28. Boko, Climate Change 2007. 29. Hulme, “Climatic Perspectives.” 30. Boko, Climate Change 2007. 31. Ibid. 32. M. Case, Climate Change Impacts on East Africa (Gland, Switzerland: WWFWorld Wide Fund for Nature, 2006). 33. Hulme, “Climate Perspectives.” 34. N. Brooks, “Drought in the African Sahel: Long Term Perspectives and Future Prospects,” Tyndall Centre Working Paper 61 (2004): 31. 35. A. Simms, Africa—Up in smoke: The Second Report from the Working Group on Climate Change and Development (London: New Economics Foundation, 2005). 36. Hendrix and Glaser, “Trends and Triggers.”

Climate Change and the Risk of Conflict in Africa 37. 38. 39. 40.

41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50.

51.

52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60.

61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66.

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Case, Climate Change Impacts on East Africa. WBGU, Climate Change. Boko, Climate Change 2007. C. Huntingford, F.H. Lambert, J.H.C Gash, C.M. Taylor and A.J. Challinor, “Aspects of Climate Change Prediction Relevant to Crop Production,” Philosophical Transactions Of the Royal Society of London Series B, Biological Sciences 360 (2005): 1999–2009. Boko, Climate Change 2007. WBGU, Climate Change. Boko, Climate Change 2007. Ibid. WBGU, Climate Change. Ibid. Boko, Climate Change 2007. UNFPA, State of World Population 2008 (New York: United Nations Population Fund, 2008). UN-HABITAT, The State of African Cities: A Framework for Addressing Urban Challenges in Africa (Nairobi: UN-HABITAT, 2008). UN ISDR, Water and Risk in Africa: A Community Leader’s Guide (Africa: United Nations International Strategy for Disaster Reduction Secretariat, 2004). K.M. Campbell et al., The Age of Consequences: The Foreign Policy and National Security Implications of Global Climate Change (Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS) and Center for a New American Security (CNAS), 2007). Boko, Climate Change 2007. UN ISDR, Water and Risk in Africa. Simms, Africa—Up in Smoke. UN ISDR, Water and Risk in Africa. Boko, Climate Change 2007. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. A. T. Wolf, A. Kramer, A. Carius and G. Dabelko, “Water Can be a Pathway to Peace not War: Global Security Brief #5,” State of the World 2005 (Washington: Worldwatch Institute, 2005). N.P. Gleditsch et al., “Conflicts over Shared Rivers: Resource Scarcity or Fuzzy Boundaries?” Political Geography 25, no. 4 (2006): 361–382. UN ISDR, Water and Risk in Africa. WBGU, Climate Change. C. Raleigh and H. Urdal, “Climate Change, Environmental Degradation and Armed Conflict,” Political Geography 26, no. 6 (2007): 674–694. Brown and Crawford, “Climate Change.” Nyong and Fiki, “Drought-Related Conflicts.”

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67. UNDP, “Fighting Climate Change: Human Solidarity in a Divided World,” Human Development Report 2007/2008 (New York: UNDP, 2007). 68. WBGU, Climate Change. 69. CNA Corporation, National Security. 70. WBGU, Climate Change. 71. Boko, Climate Change 2007. 72. H.G. Brauch, “Climate Change, Environmental Stress and Conflict,” in AFES-PRESS Report for the Federal Ministry for the Environment, Nature Conservation and Nuclear Safety, 2002. 73. WBGU, Climate Change. 74. Nyong and Fiki, “Drought-Related Conflicts.” 75. S.L. Kaplan, “The Paris Bread Riot of 1725,” French Historical Studies 14, no. 1 (1985): 23–56. 76. Garcia, “The Climate Security Divide.” 77. Ibid. 78. CNA Corporation, National Security. 79. I. Hewawasam, Managing the Marine and Coastal Environment of Sub-Saharan Africa: Strategic Directions for Sustainable Development (Washington, D.C.: World bank, 2002), 57. 80. UN DESA, The Inequality Predicament: Report on the World Social Situation (New York: United Nations Department of Social and Economic Affairs, 2005). 81. WBGU, Climate Change. 82. Barnett and Adger, “Security and Climate Change.” 83. F. Sindico, “Ex-Post and Ex-Ante [Legal] Approaches to Climate Change— Threats to the International Community,” New Zealand Journal of Environmental Law 9 (2005): 209–238. 84. O. Brown, Migration and Climate Change, IOM Migration Research Series (Geneva: International Organization for Migration, 2008). 85. A. Nyong, “Climate-Related Conflicts in West Africa,” Environmental Change and Security Program Report 12 (Washington, D.C.: Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, 2007): 36–43. 86. Ibid. 87. UNDP, “Fighting Climate Change.” 88. Campbell et al., The Age of Consequences. 89. D. Smith, and J. Vivekananda, A Climate of Conflict: The Links Between Climate Change, Peace and War (London: International Alert, 2007). 90. Boko, Climate Change 2007. 91. UN ISDR, Water and Risk in Africa. 92. Brown and Crawford, “Climate Change.” 93. Simms, Africa—Up in Smoke. 94. Ibid. 95. N. Stern, “The Economics of Climate Change,” The Stern Review (London: HM Treasury, 2006). 96. P. Collier and A. Hoeffler, “Greed and Grievance in Civil War,” Oxford Economic Papers 56, no. 4 (2004): 563–595.


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97. E. Miguel, S. Satyanath and E. Sergenti, “Economic Shocks and Civil Conflict: An Instrumental Variables Approach,” Journal of Political Economy 112, no. 4 (2004): 725–753. 98. WBGU, Climate Change. 99. Campbell et al., The Age of Consequences. 100. UNEP, Sudan: Post-Conflict Environmental Assessment (Nairobi: UNEP, 2007). 101. C. Paskal, How Climate Change is Pushing the Boundaries of Security and Foreign Policy (London: Chatham House Briefing Paper, 2007). 102. Boko, Climate Change 2007. 103. Ibid.


CHAPTER 5

Securing Africa’s Food Security: Current Constraints and Future Options Daniel D. Karanja

Background Food is the most basic of human needs for survival, health, and productivity.1 It is ironic that though the world is full of great twenty-first-century technological advances and the ability to produce more food than the world needs, yet Africa—a continent with vast and rich natural resources—continues to struggle to provide the basics—including food—to its rapidly increasing population on diminishing amount of quality arable land. Millions of families wake up each day with one idea in mind: how to obtain enough food to stay alive for just another day. This does not have to be the case, when farmers in developed countries—thanks to new technologies—are feeding almost twice as many people with better quality food from virtually the same land base. Nothing will change in Africa’s future unless the majority of farmers who own small farms are relieved of the myriad of constraints they face each season that constrain their ability to produce more, sell more and preserve more. It is time for national governments and the donor community to work together in concert, apply and adapt lessons learned and proven elsewhere, and put in place policies, institutions, and resources that will directly support and improve smallholder agriculture in Africa. This effort must involve significantly increasing investments in rural infrastructure, including irrigation, roads, electricity, and telecommunication, and providing incentives for vibrant marketing, processing, banking, and other sectors that are critical for a competitive agribusiness industry servicing rural Africa.

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Whereas Africa is a vast and diverse continent made up of 53 countries with varying histories, cultures, colonial experiences, and political, social, and economic institutional structures, agriculture is the dominant sector of most economies, contributing 70 percent of employment, 40 percent of exports, and 30 percent of the gross domestic product. With three out of every four Africans living in rural areas and depending entirely on agriculture for their livelihood, the rapid growth of this sector can play a significant role of improving food and income security, creating jobs, alleviating poverty, and promoting sustainable development. There is no reason why Africa’s agricultural potential cannot be unleashed through an aggressive pursuit of solutions to identified problems, promoting public-private partnerships in research, extension and processing, and improving farmers’ access to better technologies, markets and finances, as well as appropriate infrastructure. When farmers and rural businesses add value to their products, they fetch better prices, create new jobs in rural areas, and improve farm incomes and community welfare. Such income growth, even at a modest pace of increase, could stimulate much needed broad-based economic growth through farm—and nonfarm linkages. There is optimism in Africa today for positive change. After decades of declining food production and economic growth, there is a prospect of vibrant and growing economies across the continent, having experienced agricultural growth that has outpaced population growth for the first time in decades, armed conflicts that are reducing, democracy and the rule of law that is becoming more entrenched, national and regional institutions that are becoming stronger, and a business environment that is more conducive and competitive for growth. In countries that are turning a corner, younger, more pragmatic leaders are making real choices to tackle problems facing their people. They are investing more in agriculture without neglecting health and education, engaging more with civil society and the private sector, enabling a more conducive environment for foreign investments, and pursuing regional integration through new regional economic communities (RECs), which are creating larger, vibrant regional markets that will be conduits for future agricultural and economic growth. There are two specific reasons to be optimistic about the future. First, African governments have jointly committed to revitalizing their agricultural sectors. The African Union and the New Partnership for Africa’s Development’s (NEPAD) have launched a Comprehensive African Agricultural Development Program (CAADP), through which African heads of states pledged to invest 10 percent of their national budgets in agriculture and target to achieve an agricultural growth rate of 6 percent per year in order to significantly reduce hunger and poverty.2 CAADP has allowed Africa to reclaim its agricultural growth and development agenda, and created space for open and

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frank dialogue as part of a broader effort to focus resources toward identified common priority programs. Second, the donor community has renewed its interest in African agriculture. After two decades of declining funding by bilateral and multilateral donors, there are new pledges of increased assistance to African agriculture. Partly moved by the recent global food crisis and convinced about the critical role agriculture plays in poverty alleviation and economic development in Africa, the World Bank, United States, European Community, and several other donors have decided to reinvest in African agriculture, and jointly work on a singular platform to support African-led agricultural priorities under the CAADP framework. At L’Aquila, President Obama led the international community to make new financial commitments toward global food security totaling $22 billion over three years, and began a “whole of government” approach to engaging in food security following the “Rome Principles,” which include to significantly (1) invest in country-owned or demand-driven plans; (2) foster strategic coordination at national, regional, and global levels; (3) strive for a twin-track, comprehensive approach to meet immediate emergency needs as well as foster long-term development; (4) ensure a strong role for the multilateral donor system; and (5) ensure sustained and substantial commitment by all partners to investments in agriculture, food security, and nutrition. Hopefully, this time around, funding this kind of agriculture will be increased to commensurate with the challenges, sustained over a longer time than the currently common two to three-year projects, and targeted to solve real problems at the community level. This chapter considers these new opportunities for revitalizing Africa’s agricultural growth and food security but first reviews the trends, causes and impacts of food insecurity and highlights some critical constraints that must be overcome if Africa’s agriculture is to realize its full potential and become an engine for sustainable growth and poverty alleviation. Trends, Causes, and Impacts of Food Insecurity According to the UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), food security exists when all people, at all times, have physical, social and economic access to sufficient, safe and nutritious food that meets their dietary needs and food preferences for an active and healthy life.3 Food insecurity is the absence of such assurance. While poverty and lack of income are considered the main causes of food insecurity, droughts, floods, wars and conflicts, and pandemic diseases exacerbate food insecurity.4 Nearly 1.02 billion or one-sixth of the world population is going hungry each day and about 900 million people are chronically undernourished.5 More than 200 million of these are children, who instead of thriving, look for food or wait for what their parents

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scraped together during the day.6 Eleven children under five years old die of hunger-related causes every minute.7 Most of those who survive end up stunted physically and mentally, and remain prone to other infections, and diminished future opportunities. The proportion of the population suffering from hunger and malnutrition remains highest in Africa, where one in three people is chronically hungry and one half of the 700 million people live on less than $1 a day. A quarter of the world’s ultra poor, those living on less than 50 cents a day, reside in Africa.8 With the global population expected to swell by two-thirds to 9 billion by 2050, global food production must increase by 70 percent in order to feed the additional number of people. But where will this additional production come from if good arable land is limited, climate change is a real threat to future agricultural productivity, and crop and livestock yields are declining as a result of new diseases, pests and other stresses in places like Africa? Nearly half of all undernourished people are in low-income farm households that depend on agriculture for food supplies and income. Most of these are subsistence farmers whose food insecurity is mainly driven by crop failures, low crop yields, and lack of cash income to purchase food out of season. About half of these farmers live in marginal lands prone to environmental degradation and where drought risks and rainfall variability already exacerbate the risk of crop failure, hunger, and malnutrition.9 Those in better climatic regions have farms that are declining so fast in size and quality due to bequeathing and overuse that future food security is unguaranteed. All these farmers have one thing in common: they have poor access to new farm technologies, extension services and any form of credit, lowering the potential for agriculture to offer them secure livelihood. Food insecurity is also severe among two new groups of people: the rural landless and the urban poor. Rising population, scarcity of arable land and declining agricultural productivity is undermining the ability of the rural landless population to rely on rural wage labor. As a result, their economic prospects are dimming and hunger prospects increasing. As urban population rises faster than the general population, the share of the poor in urban areas will rise faster than in rural areas, steadily shifting the locus of hunger and malnutrition in the future. Whereas rural communities may still depend on subsistence farming with all its fragilities, food insecurity in the cities is increasing mainly due to inadequate purchasing power, and as economies become tight during the current global recession, the poor in cities have less food and poorer diets.10 Hunger and food insecurity have long-term effects on Africa’s economic future. A healthy workforce is vital to the success of any community. Hunger kills more people than all of the continent’s diseases—HIV/AIDS, Malaria, and Tuberculosis—put together. Poverty and hunger also increase


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the exposure and impact of HIV/AIDS, a disease that has decimated communities, contributed dramatically to exorbitant health care costs, labor shortages, declining asset base, and broken down social safety net systems in Africa. HIV/AIDS continues to ravage many villages and leave a trail of poverty among households that either sell everything to take care of their sick ones or households that are now headed by children orphaned by the disease or grandparents that are completely helpless raising five to ten grandchildren alone on small, unproductive farms. Besides HIV/AIDS and other major pandemics, war and conflicts are a major source of poverty and food insecurity in Africa. They are often a result of poor governance. Africa has experienced more violent conflict than any other continent in recent times, including civil wars, localized violence, and general lack of security.11 Conflict causes as many deaths each year as epidemic diseases. From 1998–2002, 4 million people died in civil wars in the Democratic Republic of Congo alone. In 1994, the world watched in horror when nearly 1 million people were killed in genocide in Rwanda within a few months. No clear statistics are available but the conflict in Darfur has displaced millions of people in Western Sudan and led to the deaths of hundreds of thousands. When people are forced to flee their homes from conflicts and wars, malnutrition, hunger and disease inevitably follow since the people are unable to farm or seek alternative employment. Even though governance has improved in many countries, Africa still lags far behind other regions. In the past five years, more than two-thirds of African countries held multiparty elections with a number of peaceful, democratic changes in governments. However, there are still some immovable presidents and some power transitions occurring between family members. But this is expected to end, as new African leaders hold each other more accountable using the African Union peer review mechanism. Overcoming Some Critical Constraints to African Agriculture Africa’s battle for improving food security and easing hunger, poverty and malnutrition among its people is subject to the success of focused efforts to overcome impeding constraints facing its weak and underdeveloped agricultural sector.12 Agriculture is a key part of most African households, communities and economies, providing livelihood to a large share of the population such that it would almost be impossible to make progress without involving this sector. Since three out of every four Africans are poor rural dwellers that are actively engaged in and derive benefits from agriculture, rapid agricultural growth can play a significant role in alleviating poverty and promoting sustainable development. In fact, not many countries have been

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able to achieve a rapid transition out of poverty without raising productivity in their agricultural sector.13 The same argument would apply to most African countries. Africa has great economic potential, given its vast wealth of natural resources and unexploited agricultural land. But African farming is limited by the fact that it is almost entirely rain fed, making food production vulnerable to vagaries of highly variable and changing climate. Rainfall has become more erratic and natural hazards such as droughts and floods have increased in frequency and severity. Unfortunately, Africa is yet to fully tap its irrigation potential. Despite an abundant wealth of natural water supplies, only 3–4 percent of Africa’s arable land is irrigated compared to 20 percent worldwide and 40 percent in Asia. According to the FAO, Africa has an additional 700 million hectares it can put under irrigation. But significant investment in infrastructure, technology and appropriate safeguards are needed to avoid potential negative environmental impacts of the Green Revolution in Asia. The following sections outline a number of challenges and opportunities for African agriculture. Climate Change and Tough Terrain Climate variability and frequency of extreme weather hazards in Africa are expected to increase with impacts of global warming. According to the International Food Policy Research Institute (IFPRI), climate change will have dramatic consequences for agriculture. Water resources will become more variable, droughts and floods will stress agricultural systems and developing economies and the poorest of the poor will likely be hit the most.14 Resources and new technologies are needed to help poor people adapt to the impact of climate change and address the problem of rapidly increasing water scarcity. So far, most of the debate on how to address global climate change has been focused on mitigation and how to get large carbon emitters to cub their output of greenhouse gas. While this is critical and must be done, poor people who rely on agriculture for their livelihood, and have the least resources to cope with climate change, need help to adapt their agriculture to climate change.15 But given the uncertainty about climate change effects and magnitude, priority at the moment should be given to research that improves the understanding and prediction of the interaction between climate change and agriculture, and efforts to harness existing resilient germplasm traits. Besides the challenges posed by climate change, Africa suffers major land degradation and soil fertility depletion—the latter estimated at 22 kg of nitrogen, 2.5 kg of phosphorus and 15 kg of potassium per hectare of land cultivated over the last three decades—as a result of long-term cropping


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by smallholder farmers with little or no external inputs or recycled crop residues.16 Batjes estimates that degraded soils amount to about 494 million hectares of land in Africa, and 65 percent of arable land is degraded by soil and water erosion, chemical and physical degradation.17 Two-thirds of Africa’s land is deserts or drylands, and since farmers in such regions earn their livelihood through subsistence agriculture and pastoralism, the land is subjected to greater danger of deterioration. According to International Fund for Agricultural Development (IFAD), the causes of land degradation in Africa are overgrazing, agricultural activity, overexploitation and deforestation.18 These are problems that most countries have not yet paid attention to but should consider as critical, especially with larger segments of populations migrating to, and starting to farm, more marginal, fragile lands. Focus on technologies and coping mechanisms applicable to these regions is needed, but the solutions will have to be different than traditional ones. One fundamental challenge in achieving agricultural productivity growth is the variety of agro-climatic conditions, small farm sizes, complexity of production systems on these farms and the multitude of crop and livestock enterprises. Seventeen distinct farming systems are identified in Africa, most of them characterized by weathered soils of low inherent fertility and high fragility.19 Under such conditions, wide application of existing or new highyielding technologies is limited. However, lessons can be gleaned from a wealth of past successful technology generation and adoption stories such as the NERICA rice in west Africa and hybrid maize in parts of East and Southern Africa.20 Compared to the rest of developing countries, crop yields in Africa are very low signifying a great potential for improvement. Typically, even in a good year with adequate rainfall, crops in an average African farm will produce about 20 percent of the average yield typical in other more developed economies.21 Such yield gaps exist because of various facts, including known technologies that do well in local experiment stations are unavailable or remain on research shelves and have not been adopted by local farmers. In most cases, the farmers have no adequate incentives to adopt these new technologies or lack access to information, extension service or technical skills.22 Agricultural Research, Extension and Education The issues discussed in the section above dictate just how difficult it can be, unlike during the Green Revolution in Asia, to develop and disseminate appropriate technologies to a vast scale that transforms Africa’s agricultural productivity. Under this peculiar challenge, the institutions and policies

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related to agricultural research, extension and training become crucial inputs on whether Africa will succeed or not in promoting and achieving food and income security, and how long this could take. The attention quickly shifts toward building Africa’s research and extension capabilities and refocusing current research efforts toward improving product yield, resilience to pests, diseases, and erratic weather, as well as postharvest processing and qualities in a way that responds to real problems to real people at the community level. Africa’s lagging agricultural productivity coupled with rising population, poverty and unemployment in rural areas, are truly burdening the continent’s land and water resources. Consequently, many rural areas are battling soil erosion, deforestation and desertification in addition to serious social challenges, such as malnutrition, hunger and high child mortality rates. For African agriculture to succeed in improving the lives of poor people in its rural areas, agricultural technology development and dissemination must not only accelerate productivity but also enhance the efficient use of Africa’s natural resources. Africa’s capacity to generate and disseminate its own agricultural technologies peaked between 1970 and 1990 when most governments and donors supported agricultural research, extension and offered scholarships for training personnel.23 This support dwindled thereafter as most donors focused their attention on other equally important issues like health, basic education and health and preferred projects with shorter payoff duration. With most agricultural funding coming from the public sector, African governments also reduced funding to agriculture partly because they were constrained by structural adjustment policies in the 1990s. Funding from foreign donors that, for instance, accounted for about half of agricultural research funding also evaporated. The World Bank lending for agriculture declined dramatically from an average of 31 percent of its total lending portfolio in 1979–81 to less than 10 percent in 1999–2000. Similarly, USAID cut its agricultural investment to Africa by 57 percent, to about $80 million for the period from 1992–97.24 By 2000, African agriculture received the least support from U.S. development assistance than any other sector, despite studies indicating high payoffs to past agricultural investments in Africa.25 The danger of this trend is that when agriculture—the mainstay of most economies—is neglected, countries would tend to rely more on donors assistance for funding health, education, et cetera, instead of growing their own economies. The advent of new agricultural innovations, such as agricultural biotechnologies, nutrient fortification of foods, processing technologies, et cetera, have opened new opportunities for collaborations between North-South and South-South institutions although much of the energy has been wasted


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debating whether certain technologies benefit Africa or not. A number of new commodity and theme-based networks have been formed and are using new informational technology to link African professionals with their colleagues in the Diaspora, who are now more interested to give back (“brain circulation”) to the continent. Since Africa’s agricultural development is dependent on its ability to enrich its human capital in ways that advance and support technological innovations, entrepreneurial capacity and the knowledge systems required for sustained development and global competitiveness, African governments should work with their development partners and the private sector to prioritize investments and support for human resource development.26 Africa must be able to replenish the quickly retiring, first generation of African professionals who were trained in the 1960s and 1970s, with capable, equally trained up-and-coming professionals. Funding gaps, like those that existed from the 1980s to early 2000s, hurt the continuity and strength of local research and training programs, and should be avoided at all costs. Under the new CAADP framework, there is new emphasis on strengthening local agricultural institutional capacity development, including agricultural training colleges. In the past, most donors offered scholarship to African professionals to be trained abroad. This was extremely expensive as the staff had to leave their positions for long periods of time and hardly focused on Africa’s problems in their thesis research; some added to the brain drain problem and did not resume their jobs. Hence, the emerging thinking is that Africa’s development is best served by building the capacity of higher education institutions at national and regional levels, and using overseas training, which tend to be more expensive, for strategic and specialized “sandwich” program or distance learning. The idea is to strengthen relevant postgraduate training programs at national levels and expand doctorate-level training through existing programs and regional centers of excellence.27 New programs, like the Africa-U.S. Higher Education Initiative, that enhance collaborations between higher education institutions in Africa and the United States so that they can contribute more effectively to African development and transformation should be encouraged and funded.28 Infrastructure, Storage, and Postharvest Handling The availability of quality and efficient infrastructure services is critical to profitable economic activity. Africa’s agriculture production, trade, and processing are severely constrained by poor rural infrastructure. A study recently conducted in 24 African countries shows that the poor state of infrastructure in Sub Saharan Africa—its electricity, water, roads, and information and

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communications technology (ICT)—cuts national economic growth by two percentage points every year and reduces business productivity by as much as 40 percent. The report estimates that $93 billion are needed annually over the next decade, more than twice what was previously thought, half of it needed to address the continent’s power supply crisis that hinders Africa’s growth.29 Many African countries are land-locked with very poor road and rail networks. Without good roads, rail transport, telecommunication networks, energy and water services, business and transaction costs are high and reduce access to regional and global markets. African road densities are very low, averaging about 63 km per 1000 square km or about 40 times less than the density that India had during the Green Revolution in 1970s. In Malawi, lack of road access means that farmers must travel an average of 7 km to get their products to the nearest market, often carrying heavy loads on their heads or using various forms of intermediate transportation such as small trucks, bicycles or donkeys. In Africa, actual trade between many cities and regions is far less than the potential because of bad roads, difficult boarder crossings, and harassment by police at roadblocks. Rural and feeder roads connecting villages and farming areas to each other and to market centers are also inadequate, poorly maintained and costly to use. Lack of infrastructure limits trade in several studies ways. First, through direct costs; the lower the amount and quality of available infrastructure, the higher the transaction costs and the lower the competitiveness. Second, uncertainty about delivery time heightens the transaction costs and forces unnecessary inventory holdings. Third, the inability of buyers and sellers to remain in close contact—either physically or virtually—weakens market trust and business development. Linked to roads and transport infrastructure, and problems of getting products to market at the right time and quality, are inadequate storage and transport facilities, lack of refrigerated trucks and storage containers, inadequate air-cargo space for perishable fresh products, and poor posthandling, grading, and packaging services. Much of Africa’s agricultural products are lost in postharvest processes. Some studies report staggering losses ranging from 10 percent to 100 percent in some countries. Most nontraditional export products are time sensitive. Sweet potato, plantains, tomatoes, bananas, and citrus fruits, for example, often perish before reaching the market. A reduction of this wastage would benefit producers and consumers alike. African governments must encourage expansion of cargo flight capacity, reduction of cross-border transit transactions and provide incentives for building adequate spot cold storage facilities to take advantage of expanding European, Asian and Middle East market for horticulture and fresh livestock produce.


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Market Information and ICT Information about markets, consumer preferences, and available support services is critical for farmers to plan their investment and seek new opportunities. Even for farmers who are closer to major market nodes such as Nairobi, Lagos, or Johannesburg, lack of access to market information increases transactions costs, hinders contacts, and reduces productivity and profitability. Most farmers have very little knowledge of their local, regional, and global markets, including prices and consumer preferences, who the market actors are, how they can forge useful business linkages, and all this adds to market and price uncertainty. However, recent growth and application of information technology (IT), including cell phones, internet, and radio, is easing these uncertainties, and changing how business is done even in rural Africa.30 IT has improved the capacity to generate, absorb, disseminate, protect, and exploit knowledge as a powerful tool for agricultural transformation. The mobility, ease of use, flexible deployment, and relatively low and declining cost of wireless technologies has allowed mobile operators to use innovative approaches to reach rural customers, offering village phone programs, low-denomination recharges for prepaid phones, combining voice and agricultural information services, accessing market information, direct trading and e-banking.31 On TradeNet, a Ghana-based trading platform, users can receive instant alerts for product purchase or sale through the network, or receive real-time prices for more than 80 commodities from 400 markets across West Africa. Mobile banking services offered by Wizzit in South Africa and Safaricom (M-PESA) in Kenya are allowing mobile phone users to pay for purchases in stores and transfer funds, significantly cutting out intermediaries, reducing transaction costs, and improving efficiency of money transfer to remote villages. Up-scaling these efforts will be achieved once African countries are connected through the new high-speed broadband sea cable, such as Seacom and ESSAY. Hopefully, governments quickly provide enabling policy environment and incentives for extensive use of these facilities with potential benefits to the agricultural and rural sectors.

Regional and International Agricultural Trade Agricultural trade has the potential to build African economies and help alleviate poverty, but current levels are too low to have any meaningful impact. African agriculture contributes 47 percent, 14 percent and 10 percent of total exports in Eastern Africa, Southern Africa and West Africa, respectively, but accounts for only 1 percent of global GDP and 2 percent of international trade, with the latter share declining by half since 1970.32 This

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disconnect occurs largely because today’s global economy with its use of market protections, such as tariffs and subsidies, undermines Africa’s agriculture by dumping cheap products that African farmers cannot compete with in local markets. The failure of the Doha negotiations is unfortunate. The International Monetary Fund estimates that full agricultural liberalization would supply $2.6 billion to African economies, and greater benefits would accrue to developed countries as well. Most African countries stand to gain more from regional trade than even international trade. Various regional economic communities, such as COMESA and ECOWAS, are working hard to reduce trade barriers among member countries and with each other. But challenges remain from lack of political will by some governments to make the necessary reforms and amendments to laws, regulations, and institutions. Uneven economic preparedness presents a challenge, as members of economic communities are not always as proximate economically as they are geographically. However, there is new optimism that interregional trade and regional integration can foster development if trade policies and standards are harmonized. Agricultural trade standards have become critical barriers cutting off Africa’s ability to further penetrate global markets. Both the U.S. Africa Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA) and the EU Everything But Arms (EBA) are trade preference programs that offer Africa’s products significant market access. However, African countries are unable to take full advantage of these markets because some of their products do not meet these markets’ sanitary and phytosanitary standards (SPS), producers lack information about consumer preferences, inability to forge credible business to business linkages or lack of capital to scale up the business. For instance, agricultural products represented less than 1 percent in value of the total U.S. imports from Africa in 2009.33 The bulk of the import value was oil and petroleum products, an industry that does little to minimize hunger and poverty in Africa’s oil-producing countries. The United States and the EU can facilitate Africa’s ability to export more agricultural products by expanding assistance for trade capacity building, particularly to eliminate supply-side constraints, harmonizing U.S.-EU trade standards so that countries meeting standards and compliance in the EU can readily export to the United States, possibly under fast-track review process, and connecting producers to buyers. Overcoming such hurdles is an avenue for increased market access. Such standards enhance the reliability and accessibility of information on the quality of products, which is essential to building consumer confidence. Information about technical standards in Africa is patchy, and lack of effective and efficient consumer organizations and public product standards approval agencies diminish the role that quality and safety standards play


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in market development. Most local standards’ boards—if they exist—are ill-equipped, understaffed and unfunded, and having being created under former government-controlled era, tend to be pretty rigid. Private Sector, Business Development and Investment Capital Africa has made incredible progress in improving the business climate over the past decade or so. There are still hindrances to smooth business transactions that discourage investments, increase transaction costs and reduced competitiveness. The World Bank has been conducting Doing Business studies, which index African countries as having the most tedious and costly procedures for starting a business, include laborious business registration processes and little capacity for intellectual property protection. Although, several African countries—including Rwanda and Madagascar—have topped the list of reformers in this study, business development continues to be a great challenge for most countries due to weak private sector and overly dominant public sectors.34 There is broad concurrence on the critical role of a well-developed dynamic private sector in promoting business development and export growth, even in the agricultural sector. Countries that successfully pursued export-led growth strategies invariably gave a lead role to their private sector, and maintained a collaborative and facilitative relationship between the government and the private sector. However, African governments often crowd out the private sector, leaving fiscally and human resource-constrained government parastatals to try to develop new markets, stimulate public-private sector partnerships and motivate supply chains actors to respond to dynamic market demands. The results have been disastrous. Governments should facilitate the private sector and provide the enabling legal, institutional and policy environment for growth. Meanwhile, capital flows and access to capital have been a major constraint to business development in Africa. Save for a few, commercial banks in Africa are yet to adapt their financial products to the needs of smallholder farmers and businesses, especially in remote, rural Africa. Equity Bank, EcoBank and the Standard Bank have partnered with the Alliance for Green Revolution in Africa (AGRA) to test a number of credit risk facilities that will allow the banks to disburse funds to smallholder farmers. Past disappointments with large, state-sponsored agricultural finance institutions that have left a troublesome legacy of political interference and debt nonrepayment will soon be a thing of the past. Africa’s past poor performance has also kept foreign direct investments (FDI) at bay. But a recent UNCTAD study showed that FDI flows to African countries have increased in recent the past

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few years but are still the lowest in the world. Average annual FDI flows doubled in the 1980s to $2.2 billion compared to 1970s, and increased significantly to almost $14 billion in 2000–2003. However, in spite of these seemingly impressive gains, Africa accounts for only 2–3 percent of total global FDI flows down from a peak of 6 percent in mid-1970s. The ability of Africa to attract more local and external investments, particularly in agriculture, is key to sustained economic development Conclusions and Opportunities for the Future These are unprecedented times of great opportunities for Africa! Prior to the global economic downturn in 2008 and 2009, a number of African countries had the best agricultural and economic growth of more than 5 percent per year, much higher than population growth rates, considered as the fruits of some painful political and economic reforms undertaken in the 1990s and the resulting macroeconomic stability. Even though most countries are not expected to meet their targets for the MDG goal number one of halving the number of people living on less than $1 a day, it is encouraging to see African economies begin to grow. It is predicted that Africa’s economies will be strong again, once the global economy rebounds and nations demand more natural resources. Hopefully, the benefits of such growth will reverberate to the common man and woman on the streets and in rural Africa. But this will depend on a few things. First, Africa must stay the course of making hard decisions and continue to embrace reform, shifting from policies and institutions that do not work to those that are dynamic and more responsive to the realities of these times. Second, African governments cannot do everything. That is a postcolonial mind-set that must be abandoned. Creative public-private partnerships are the best way to go and are needed to spearhead new investments that will spur and sustain economic growth to the point where it has a big impact on eliminating hunger, poverty, and malnutrition. But the African private sector will require a lot of capacity strengthening for it to play a more active role. The government can facilitate development, define the rules of the game and provide oversight to ensure public trust and welfare is upheld, but it should not be the key, albeit the only, player in the development business. Third, significant effort must remain on spotlighting and encourage domestic and foreign investments in African agriculture. The recent pledges by African countries and donor agencies to increase funding to the agricultural sector is very exciting, but nothing will change unless resources are pooled and targeted toward solving Africa-led, demand-driven priorities on the ground, and donors coordinate their assistance in response to


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these priorities. The new U.S. Global Food Security Initiative and the World Bank led CAADP multidonor trust fund should provide consistent, sustained support to new national and regional CAADP compacts and agricultural investment plans that are now emanating from the continent. However, good metrics must be applied to assess progress, amend mistakes and ensure success on the ground. Using successful lessons from elsewhere, investment decisions can be made to tackle key constraints to local, national and regional agricultural production, processing and marketing, ensuring a fair balance between food staple production and market-led export production. The ultimate focus should not just be in the amount of food produced, which is usually the case in Africa, but how much was saved through better postharvest handling, kept longer in markets through value-added processing, and sold at a higher price to fetch the farmers a better return for their trouble. The role of governments and the private sector in ensuring the right combinations of realistic policies, strong institutions and appropriate investments that improve the welfare of African smallholder farmers, businesses and rural dwellers and advances their food and income security cannot be underestimated.

Notes 1. L.C. Smith, H. Alderman and D. Aduayom, Food Insecurity in Sub-Saharan Africa: New Estimates from Household Expenditure Surveys. Research Report No. 146 (Washington, D.C.: International Food Policy Research Institute, 2006). 2. African Union, Declaration on Agriculture and Food Security in Africa. Second Ordinary Session of the Assembly of the African Union held on July 10–12, 2003 in Maputo, MOZAMBIQUE. Assembly/AU/Decl.4-11 (II). 3. Food and Agricultural Organization, The State of Food Insecurity in the World. 2009. Economic Crises—Impacts and Lessons Learned (Rome, Italy: The Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, 2009). 4. S. Maxwell, “Food Security: A Post-Modern Perspective.” Food Policy 21, no. 2 (1996): 151–170; P. Pinstrup-Andersen, R. Pandya-Lorch and M. Rosegrant, “The World Food Situation: Recent Development, Emerging Issues and Long Term Prospects.” Food Policy Report (Washington, D.C.: IFPRI, 1997); The InterAcademy Council, Realizing the Promise and Potential of African Agriculture. The InterAcademy Council Report (Amsterdam: The Netherlands: IAC Secretariat, 2004). 5. Food and Agricultural Organization, “Taking Stock of World Hunger: Revised Estimates,” The State of Food Insecurity in the World (Rome, Italy: The UN Food and Agriculture Organization, 2008). 6. Bread for the World. Agriculture in the Global Economy. Hunger Report 2003 (Washington, D.C.: Bread for the World Institute, 2003).

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7. S. Scherr, “Halving Global Hunger.” A Background Paper of the Hunger Task Force. The Millennium Project. April 18, 2003. 8. IFPRI, Agriculture and Climate Change: An Agenda for Negotiation in Copenhagen. Ed. Gerald C. Nelson (Washington, D.C: IFPRI, 2009). 9. R. E. Bilsborrow, “Migration, Population Change and the Rural Environment” in World Population Monitoring 2001: Population, Environment and Development (New York: United Nations Population Division, 2001), 41–53. 10. S. Shapouri, S. Rosen, B. Meade, and F. Gale, Food Security Assessment, 2008–09. USDA/ERS Outlook Report No. GFA-20 (2010). http://wwww.ers. usda.gov/Publications/GFA20. Accessed March 2010. 11. UNECA, “Our Common Interest,” Lost Decades: Legacy and Causes (2009) 94–111. 12. Ibid. 13. S. Lucas and C. P. Timmer, Connecting the Poor to Economic Growth: Eight Key Questions. CGD Brief, April 2005 (Washington, D.C.: Center for Global Development, 2005); World Bank, Can Africa Claim the 21st Century? The International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (Washington, D.C.: The World Bank, 2000). 14. IFPRI, The World’s Most Deprived: Characteristics and Causes of Extreme Poverty and Hunger (Washington, D.C.: International Food Policy Research Institute, 2009). 15. Bread for the World, Global development: Charting a New Course. Hunger Report 2009 (Washington, D.C.: Bread for the World Institute, 2009). 16. E. Smaling, J.J. Stoorvogel and P. Windmeijer, “Calculating Soil Nutrient Balances in Africa at Different Scales. II. District Scale.” Fertilizer Research 35, no. 3 (1993): 237–250; D. Weight, and V. Kelly, “Restoring Soil Fertility in Sub-Saharan Africa: Technical and Economic Issues,” A Policy Synthesis Note for USAID, Africa Bureau, Office of Sustainable Development. Food Security II Project (Department of Agricultural Economics, Michigan State University, 1998). 17. N.H. Batjes, “Options for Increasing Carbon Sequestration in West African Soils: An Explanatory Study with Special Focus on Senegal,” Land Degradation & Development 12 (2001): 131–142. 18. IFAD, “Drylands: A Call to Action,” Building on IFAD’s Experience: Lessons from Sub-Saharan Africa (2002). 19. The InterAcademy Council, Realizing the Promise and Potential of African Agriculture, The InterAcademy Council Report (IAC Secretariat: Amsterdam, 2004). 20. IFPRI, Millions Fed: Proven Successes in Agricultural Development, Ed. David J. Spielman and Rajul Pandya-Lorch (Washington, D.C.: International Food Policy Research Institute, 2010). 21. Chicago Council on Global Affairs, Renewing Americal Leadership in the Fight Against Global Hunger and Poverty (The Chicago Initiative on Global Agricultural Development, 2009).


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22. Food and Agriculture Organization, “The Technology Challenge. How to Feed the World: 2050.” A High-Level Expert Forum. Rome: Italy, October 12–13, 2009. 23. D. Byerlee and R.G. Echeverria, eds., Agricultural Research Policy in an Era of Privatization (CABI Publishing, 2002). 24. IFPRI, Ending Hunger in Africa: Only the Small Farmers Can Do It (2002). 25. J. Oehmke and E.W. Crawford. “Impact of Agricultural Technologies in SubSaharan Africa,” Journal of African Economies 5 (1996): 271–292. 26. M. Kingslow, Factors Shaping Africa-U.S. Higher Education Partnerships for Agricultural Development: A Report to the Partnership to Cut Hunger and Poverty in Africa (2010). 27. C.K. Eicher, The Evolution of Agricultural Education and Training: Global Insights of Relevance for Africa (Lansing, MI: Michigan State University, 2006); C.K. Eicher, “Building Africa’s Scientific Capacity in Food and Agriculture,” Review of Business and Economics 54, no. 3 (2009): 238–257; World Bank, Cultivating Knowledge and Skills to Grow African Agriculture: A Synthesis of an Institutional, Regional and International Review (Washington, D.C.: The World bank, 2007): 51–52. 28. Kingslow, Factors Shaping Africa-U.S. Higher Education Partnerships for Agricultural Development. 29. World Bank, Information and Communications for Development 2009: Extending Reach and Increasing Impact (Washington, D.C: The World Bank, 2009). 30. J.C. Aker, Can You Hear Me Now: How Cell Phones Are Transforming Markets in Sub-Saharan Africa. CGD Notes (Center for Global Development,Washington, D.C., October 2008). 31. World Bank, 2009. 32. World Bank, Can Africa Claim the 21st Century? The International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (Washington, D.C.: The World Bank, 2000). 33. PCHPA, AGOA and Agriculture. Policy Briefing Paper Presented at the Eighth U.S. AGOA Forum, August 4–6, 2009 in Nairobi, Kenya. Washington, D.C.: Partnership to Cut Hunger and Poverty in Africa (PCHPA) & International Food and Agricultural Trade Policy Council (IPC): Washington, D.C., 2009. 34. World Bank, Doing Business 2008 Report (Washington, D.C.: The World Bank, 2008).


CHAPTER 6

Confronting Africa’s Health Challenges Jeremy Youde

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re sick people as big a threat to the stability and security of Sub-Saharan Africa as arms proliferation and civil conflict? Health and disease have emerged as major themes in analyzing the state of politics and security in Sub-Saharan Africa in recent years. While there appears to be a growing consensus on the importance of health and disease for African politics and security, understandings and interpretations of that importance vary widely. We find ourselves in a situation where most people agree that health matters, but large disagreements exist over how and why it matters. Resolving, or at least understanding, the nature of these differences has important implications for both academic analysis and policymaking. This chapter seeks to offer an understanding of the current state of the debate over the relationship between health and security in Africa. To do this, I will examine how the role of health in security politics has changed, how scholars and policymakers have assessed the nature of this relationship, and the consequences they have foretold. State of Disease in Sub-Saharan Africa Infectious diseases pose a particular threat to Sub-Saharan Africa. Strikingly, Africa is the only region in the world where infectious and communicable diseases are responsible for the majority of deaths. In 2004, Africa experienced 11.3 million deaths. Of these, 7.7 million—68 percent of all deaths on the continent—were attributable to communicable diseases, maternal conditions, and nutritional deficiencies. Infectious diseases, like

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AIDS, tuberculosis, and malaria, collectively caused 4.85 million deaths—63 percent of deaths from communicable diseases, and 43 percent of all deaths. AIDS was the leading killer among infectious diseases, causing 1.65 million deaths, followed by diarrheal diseases (1.00 million), malaria (806,000), and tuberculosis (405,000). Noncommunicable conditions, such as cancer, stroke, heart disease, and diabetes, took 2.80 million lives in Africa in 2004 (25 percent of all deaths).1 To put Africa’s disease burden into a global context, no other region of the world had a majority of its deaths come from communicable illnesses. Globally, communicable diseases were responsible for 17.97 million out of 58.77 million deaths worldwide in 2004—just over 30 percent. Noncommunicable conditions, on the other hand, caused 35.01 million deaths, or nearly 60 percent of the worldwide total. These stark figures hammer home the reality that Africa’s communicable disease burden more than twice as high as the world average and far exceeds all other regions in the world. The World Health Organization (WHO) has compiled the ten leading causes of disease burden, using a measure of DALYs (disability-adjusted life years). Each DALY is the equivalent of one year of full health, and is the sum of years of life lost due to premature mortality and years lost due to disability due to a health condition. As of 2004, the top three causes of DALYs were HIV/AIDS (12.4 percent), lower respiratory infections (11.2 percent), and diaherreal diseases (8.6 percent). These three were responsible for nearly one-third of Sub-Saharan Africa’s DALYs. HIV/AIDS Twenty-two million people in Sub-Saharan Africa are HIV-positive. This is approximately two-thirds of all the cases of the disease worldwide. During 2007, UNAIDS estimates that 1.9 million more Africans contracted the virus, while 1.5 million died of AIDS.2 Infection rates vary widely throughout Sub-Saharan Africa; three countries—Botswana, Lesotho, and Swaziland— have adult HIV infection rates of over 20 percent. The vast majority of cases in Sub-Saharan Africa are transmitted via heterosexual intercourse. As a consequence, Sub-Saharan Africa has high rates of mother-to-child HIV transmission. Reports estimate that 90 percent of the world’s 2 million HIV-positive children live in Sub-Saharan Africa.3 The demographic breakdown of HIV cases in Sub-Saharan Africa reveals three fascinating patterns. First, the epidemic is concentrated overwhelmingly among women. Sixty-one percent of all infections in the region are among women.4 This is a significant deviation from the epidemic as a whole, which

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has a nearly even split between males and females. Second, there exist age disparities within infection rates. Women 15–24 are the most vulnerable to HIV infection, with twice the infection rates than men of the same age.5 Third, deaths due to AIDS have had a dramatic effect on life expectancy rates in many parts of Sub-Saharan Africa. Demographers estimate that SubSaharan Africa as a whole would have an average life expectancy of 61 years today without AIDS. Instead, average life expectancy has dropped to 47.6 In many countries, this means that life expectancy rates today are lower than at independence. Lower Respiratory Infections Lower respiratory infections (LRIs) include pneumonia, emphysema, and acute bronchitis. These diseases target the trachea, bronchi, and lungs and are generally more serious than upper respiratory infections. In 2004, LRIs caused 1.417 million deaths in Sub-Saharan Africa, more than any other region. Further, they are the leading cause of mortality in children under the age of five, and the number of deaths from LRIs increased between 2002 and 2004. Though access to antibiotics has increased in recent years, many children in Africa lack access to health care facilities to receive treatment in a timely manner. Further, the overuse and abuse of antibiotics has led to an increase in antibiotic-resistant LRIs.7 Treating these cases puts an even greater burden on already stretched health care resources. Diarrheal Diseases Diarrheal diseases include diarrhea, cholera, and dysentery. Diarrheal diseases caused more than 1 million deaths in Sub-Saharan Africa in 2004, accounting for nearly half of all such deaths worldwide. While these illnesses can be viral, bacterial, or parasitic in origin, they are primarily transmitted via contaminated water. Water may be contaminated with human or animal feces in areas with inadequate sanitation systems. The recent cholera epidemic in Zimbabwe, for example, is a direct result of the collapse of the country’s sanitation infrastructure due to its dire economic situation. NGOs working on diarrheal diseases note that, despite the heavy disease burden caused by these illnesses, they receive far less funding than other infectious diseases. Governments spent $1.5 billion on sanitation between 2004 and 2006— one-tenth the amount devoted to HIV/AIDS and one-third spent on malaria, even though neither disease kills as many children as diarrhea, cholera, and dysentery.8

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Malaria Malaria is a vector-borne disease caused by parasites transmitted by infected mosquitoes. Once infected, the parasites colonize the liver and infect red blood cells. Fever, vomiting, and headache appear 10–15 days after exposure. Malaria can become fatal if it interrupts the supply of blood to vital organs. Each year, between 300 and 500 million cases of malaria occur worldwide, causing between 1.5 and 2.7 million deaths annually. Ninety percent of these cases occur in Sub-Saharan Africa.9 In 2004 alone, malaria caused 806,000 deaths in Sub-Saharan Africa—90.7 percent of all deaths worldwide from the disease. During the 1950s and 1960s, the World Health Organization led an international effort to eradicate malaria, primarily through vector control strategies relying heavily on DDT and other insecticides. While this strategy initially showed some promise, mosquitoes quickly developed resistance to the insecticides and common treatment methods. As a result, the number of cases of malaria in Sub-Saharan Africa between 1982 and 1995 was four times as high as those between 1962 and 1981.10 Today, malaria is responsible for 20 percent of all mortality in children under five, and every African country (except for Libya) is endemic for the disease. WHO figures cite malaria as causing up to 40 percent of public health expenditures, 30–50 percent of hospital admissions, and up to 60 percent of outpatient visits in the region.11 Among the 35 Sub-Saharan African countries with the highest malaria rates, economic analysis suggests that malaria depressed economic growth by 1.3 percent annually. Cutting the rate of malaria by 10 percent, on the other hand, could allow these states to grow by 0.3 percent.12 Tuberculosis Approximately one-third of the world’s population is infected with the bacilli that cause tuberculosis. In most cases, the immune systems keep the bacteria in check and people feel no ill effects. Approximately 10 percent of these latent infections become active, characterized by chronic coughs, weight loss, chest pain, fever, and night sweats. Without treatment, tuberculosis can kill more than 50 percent of its victims. The treatment regimen entails a sixmonth course of antibiotics, taken on a consistent basis. Tuberculosis killed 405,000 people in Sub-Saharan Africa in 2004, with more than 2 million additional people falling ill.13 As with malaria, tuberculosis rates in Sub-Saharan Africa have increased dramatically in recent years. Between 1990 and 2003, the rate of infection in the region more than doubled, from 149 cases per 100,000 population to 343 cases. During this time, nearly every other region in the world experienced


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a decrease in tuberculosis rates. Much of the blame for startling increase in tuberculosis in Sub-Saharan Africa belongs to HIV. Tuberculosis is the most common coinfection among HIV-positive persons, as their immune systems cannot keep tuberculosis bacilli walled off any longer. As a result, 30–40 percent of HIV-positive adults die of tuberculosis.14 Rising infection rates also put the general population at greater exposure to the disease; each untreated infected person can infect 10–15 others.15 Failure to diagnose an active infection early or inconsistent access to drugs has led to forms of tuberculosis increasingly resistant to treatment. These new strains, multidrugresistant tuberculosis (MDR-TB) and extensively drug-resistant tuberculosis (XDR-TB) are far more difficult and expensive to treat.16 Health and Security With the demise of the Cold War, security studies scholars grappled with questions of the nature of security in the new international environment. Traditional understandings of security focused exclusively on military and physical threats within a state-centric framework.17 In a now-seminal article, Deudney explicitly argued against the expansion of security into new realms, such as environmental degradation.18 While not denying the challenges posed by environmental changes, including it and other “new” security threats led to inappropriate policy suggestions and engendered us-versus-them thinking that directly contradicted the international cooperation necessary to address these problems. A number of researchers questioned the applicability of this paradigm in the post-Cold War era. While the military-focused, state-centric model may have been appropriate in a bipolar world, they challenged the model’s usefulness in a world facing numerous serious nonmilitary threats (such as environmental degradation, refugee flows, illicit drugs, crime, and food scarcity) with only one superpower.19 Incorporating nontraditional threats under the rubric of “security” also called for greater attention paid to the threats faced by individuals rather than states. While this debate emerged in the pages of international relations journals, the AIDS epidemic entered the public consciousness. International organizations began to create programs dedicated to preventing the disease’s spread, offering treatment (though such options were almost nonexistent in the late 1980s and early 1990s), and raising public awareness of the disease. The emergence of AIDS and the potential threats it posed coincided with the emergence of the human security paradigm. With the end of the superpower rivalry of the Cold War, a movement developed to redefine conceptualizations of security away from its traditional state-centric focus on military and physical concerns and toward a more individual-level conception of security.

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The United Nations Development Program, in particular, embraced this redefinition of security. In its 1994 Human Development Report, the authors defined human security: “It means, first, safety from such chronic threats as hunger, disease, and repression. And second, it means protection from sudden and hurtful disruptions in the patterns of daily life—whether in homes, in jobs, or in communities.”20 UNDP then went on to disaggregate security into seven distinct realms: economic, food, health, environmental, personal, community, and political security. By so doing, UNDP hoped to change the conversation within the international community, shift the referent of security away from the state and toward the individual, and develop an all-encompassing, integrative redefinition of security. As this broadened definition of security took hold, health gradually became incorporated into the realm of security issues.21 Advocates of human security emphasized its relevance to the real challenges threatening most people in their daily lives. Security Implications of Disease in Africa With growing debates over the nature of security, a growing number of scholars and policymakers have wondered about the ethical considerations of expanding or restricting the definition of security. Securitization theory, popularized by the Copenhagen School, can play a particularly important role here. It focuses on how and why certain issues become security concerns in the first place. A wide range of nonmilitary issues, like HIV/AIDS, environmental degradation, poverty, hunger, and global warming, could conceivably be security issues, but not all will successfully make it to the national security agenda. What determines which issues succeed? Securitization theory focuses on the performative nature of speech acts. Calling something a security issue or security threat constitutes a performative speech act, in which the words used to describe something themselves function as an activity. Describing an issue as a security issue gives that issue a special social quality for policymakers. The designation itself brings with it certain connotations, and implies a certain sort of response. It also affects how other parties view the issue and its place on the political agenda. Waever notes that the security label “does not merely reflect whether a problem is a security problem, it is also a political choice.”22 Choosing to designate something as a security issue is thus a political tool to advance particular goals and aims. The discussions of securitizing health and disease in Africa have focused almost exclusively on HIV/AIDS. Though recent analyses have broadened this focus to include diseases like malaria and tuberculosis, the analytical gaze (and, consequently, most of the evidence offered in this section) pays the vast majority of attention to HIV/AIDS.


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Concerns about the security implications of disease in Africa tend to fall in one of thee categories: economic, political, and military. These three channels, according to the causal mechanisms of health security, could exacerbate economic deprivation, foster the breakdown of social institutions, and erode the legitimacy and authority of democratic political institutions and bureaucracies.23 From an economic perspective, the effects of disease have the potential to be dire. Nguyen and Stovel make the connection between disease and economics explicit. They write, “There is widespread agreement that HIV/AIDS causes or exacerbates economic vulnerability.”24 This is particularly problematic, as significant erosion in socioeconomic conditions in highly afflicted states poses the leading threat to development in Africa.25 Reports by the United Nations Development Program note that AIDS causes household incomes to decline by up to 80 percent. In addition, AIDS-afflicted households can see a 15–30 percent decline in food consumption.26 Another United Nations organization, the Food and Agricultural Organization, estimated in 2001 that AIDS killed 26 percent of the agricultural workforce in the ten most afflicted Sub-Saharan African states.27 The education sector also faces severe effects from HIV/AIDS. Teachers form the foundation of the education system, and a well-functioning education system is crucially important for political and economic development. Unfortunately, teachers appear to be particularly vulnerable to HIV infection. A 2001 report estimated HIV infection rates among teachers in southern Africa and found prevalence rates of 33 percent (South Africa), 40 percent (Zambia), 40 percent (Malawi), and 70 percent (Swaziland).28 Politically, HIV/AIDS can introduce greater uncertain into the realm of governance. Butler notes that the HIV/AIDS epidemic could threaten to undermine the institutional and bureaucratic framework necessary for a functioning democracy. The loss of skilled civil service personnel and the basic organs of political competition could work against the tide of democratization that swept across Sub-Saharan Africa in the 1990s.29 A government’s failure to adequately address the epidemic could also weaken its legitimacy among the public, though recent public opinion analysis suggests that evaluations of a government’s AIDS policies are not significantly weakening support for governments in Sub-Saharan Africa.30 Strand and others found that Zambia has experienced a significant increase in the number of parliamentary byelections due to MP death since AIDS emerged in the country. Between 1990 and 2003, the years when Zambia’s AIDS prevalence rates were at their highest, the country held 38 such by-elections. By comparison, the country only had 14 by-elections due to death between 1964 and 1984. More strikingly, the deaths between 1990 and 2003 were disproportionately among younger members. Fifteen of the 38 were between 40 and 49, while only two such deaths occurred among MPs over the age of 70. While not all of these deaths

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are due to AIDS, Strand et al. highlight that “70 percent of the MPs who died between 1990 and 2003 would have been in their most sexually active phase during parts of that time period” and hence at risk of contracting the virus.31 In 2000, Zimbabwean President Robert Mugabe announced that AIDS had killed at least three cabinet ministers and numerous traditional chiefs. Kenyan civil service officials declared that AIDS caused 86 percent of employee deaths in 1998 and 75 percent of police deaths between 1996 and 1998.32 A 2003 report asserted that at least one-quarter of the South African police personnel were HIV-positive.33 The military is of particular interest to discussion of security and particularly problematic for the spread of HIV in Sub-Saharan Africa. AIDS, not war, is the leading cause of death among southern African militaries, accounting for over 50 percent of all in-service and post-service mortality.34 Reports suggest that between 40 and 80 percent of military members in the region are HIV-positive.35 AIDS challenges for the military in four key ways. First, it compromises military performance and effectiveness. If a large number of your people are sick, you cannot be as effective a force. The South African National Defense Force has had to curtail its involvement in international peacekeeping and joint military exercises because they have not been able to field large enough contingents of HIV-free soldiers.36 Second, high rates of AIDS within society decrease the pool of potential recruits. There are fewer healthy people available to replace those already in the military who fall victim to AIDS. Third, militaries suffer from a loss of leadership. The upper ranks of any military are crucially important for instilling a sense of discipline in new recruits and for ensuring operational effectiveness. As AIDS kills these people, the military not only loses their experience, but also faces a smaller pool of available replacements.37 Finally, AIDS itself is becoming a weapon of war. HIV-positive soldiers have reportedly raped women and girls as they have retreated to cause a “slow genocide.”38 Not only does this further burden already weakened health systems in conflict zones and spread the disease to new areas, but it also serves to weaken the social fabric—which itself contributes to the disease’s spread.39 Is Security the Right Framework for Promoting Health in Africa? It is undeniable that Africa’s infectious disease burden places enormous strains on governments and societies throughout the continent. The losses associated with premature death dampen the abilities of governments throughout the continent to build stronger, more robust polities and economies. Reducing the disease burden would increase gross domestic products throughout


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the continent, allow for the reallocation of government funds, and create an environment more hospitable to foreign investment. Infectious disease and health are undoubtedly important humanitarian issues for Sub-Saharan Africa. The question arises, though, as to whether they are also security issues. While it may be tempting to categorize infectious diseases in Africa as security issues or threats, it appears increasingly unlikely that such a strategy will be effective over the long term. The contentiousness over the meaning of health security and the nature of the health challenges faced by SubSaharan African states suggest that human rights or humanitarianism may be more appropriate frameworks for promoting health and the development of a strong health care infrastructure throughout Africa. How could this happen? Four big concerns emerge for securitizing health within Sub-Saharan Africa. First, a security framework focuses on a state protecting itself against threats rather than a broader, more holistic sense of global well-being. The irony in such a juxtaposition is that promoting global well-being and paying attention to the underlying determinants of health and disease would ultimately provide greater levels of protection. A security and threat posture frequently ignores the diseases and illnesses that cause the highest levels of mortality and privileges those diseases that most concern Western states. Diarrheal diseases rarely, if ever, are conceptualized as security threats, even though they are one of the most common killers in Sub-Saharan Africa. Avian influenza, on the other hand, receives disproportionate attention, despite the fact that Africa as a whole has recorded only 83 cases—all but two of which were in Egypt.40 Second, securitizing health narrows the range of diseases that receive attention and tends to focus on specific diseases themselves rather than the broader public health infrastructure. Most of the diseases that animate discussions of health security pose the greatest potential threat to Western states—SARS, avian influenza, and swine flu. These diseases certainly have the potential to exact heavy costs on the international community, and taking precautionary measures to avoid negative consequences is certainly advised. However, focusing on these theoretical threats instead of the very real and already apparent infectious diseases threats facing Sub-Saharan Africa distracts attention and finite resources. A focus on discrete diseases leads to stovepiping—creating programs and systems that address one illness or concern but do little to address broader measures of health. It is a focus on disease rather than a focus on health, yet health is more than the absence of disease. Because measles, mosquito-borne diseases, and diarrheal diseases are largely absent from industrialized countries, they receive little if any attention from the security framework. The benefits Elbe associates with the securitization of AIDS have not translated to health more broadly, nor are they likely to do

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so. Thus, the illnesses with the greatest mortality and morbidity burdens in Sub-Saharan Africa are largely left out. Third, despite efforts otherwise, the security framework still largely casts its analytical gaze at national, rather than human, security.41 Policymakers and academics tend to think about security in terms of what could threaten the state. The language of security studies emphasizes direct threats—those that are readily apparent and provide a linear causal relationship to safety. It focuses on direct risks to state structures (particularly the military), potential epidemic diseases, and bioterrorism, though these are not the problems that dominate the African health agenda.42 The nature of infectious disease, as described above, is better understood as an indirect, nonlinear threat. An infectious disease outbreak in and of itself is highly unlikely to bring a state to its knees or lead to armed conflict between two states. However, if state structures are already weakened or atrophied, and if a government lacks the governance capabilities to deal with an additional stressor, then it is possible that infectious disease could pose a serious risk to a state. It is this latter scenario that most challenges African states. If they are already weakened, then they may lack the reserve capacity and capability to handle an additional stressor. Fourth and finally, the direct security effects envisioned by advocates of AIDS securitization (and health securitization more broadly) are largely speculative and overstated. While it is indeed true that high rates of infectious disease can have a deleterious effect on a state’s social, political, and economic institutions, there is little empirical evidence of direct military effects or civil conflict.43 Barnett and Prins argue that much of the discussion about disease’s security effects rests on “factoids” and anecdotes that do not provide robust, reliable information.44 McInnes concurs, asserting that making blanket statements about the security implications of infectious disease across the entire African continent overstates and overgeneralizes the risk.45 Further, the statistical evidence for the relationship between poor health and internal instability remains ambiguous at best. The Central Intelligence Agency’s State Failure Task Force found that high infant mortality rates are a sign of poor quality of life, which is in turn a causal factor for internal instability. This finding suggests that infectious disease and poor health has an indirect effect on state security, not the direct effect commonly ascribed within the securitization literature.46 These findings do not diminish the fact that poor health and infectious disease have severe effects on life within a state, nor do they suggest that infectious disease is not a problem with which African government need to grapple. They do suggest, though, that focusing on the direct security effects goes too far. By overstating the case, securitizers risk provoking a backlash when the hypothesized effects fail to materialize.


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Along these same lines, a security framework begs two important questions: security for whom and security from what? The health security discourse that has developed over the last 10–15 years has generally answered the first question by focusing on Western states. “Health security risks” or “new security risks” are those diseases that Western states fear could emerge from Africa and potentially come to their shores.47 It is not a discourse about health in general, nor is it even a discourse about helping Africa. It is instead a discourse that envisions Africa largely as an emitter of disease. What happens within African states with health concerns is irrelevant unless it could emerge and spread to industrialized states. This skews the international agenda, focusing attention away from those health issues that most directly affect African states and publics. The broader determinants of health, such as poverty and access to clean water and proper sanitation, receive less attention. Africa itself receives short shrift, too. Africa is not important in this construction because of the suffering from infectious disease or the disproportionate child mortality burden it experiences; it is only important insofar as it could potentially be the source of diseases that could threaten wealthy industrialized states. Africa is more of a signifier than a participant in the larger conversation about international health policy. If the above is true and the security framework has largely come to dominate the discussion of African health, why is this the case? McInnes and Lee, while approving of the increased attention health has received within the international agenda, highlight “the apparently successful attempt to move health beyond the social policy and development agenda, into the realms of foreign and security policy.”48 One answer might be “forum-shifting.” Health is a cross-cutting issue that fits within many different policy arenas. By shifting health away from the realms of social and development policy and toward foreign and security policy, advocates seek to operate within the diplomatic arenas with more attention, more resources, and more favorable outcomes.49 Security, for better or worse, commands far more attention and far more resources than social policy or international development. Policymakers pay attention to security issues, particularly security threats, with an urgency not present for development issues. While this strategy may have led Western states to pay more attention to Africa and health issues, it does not appear to be a useful long-term strategy. Aldis documents a growing suspicion of health securitization. Developing state governments are increasingly uncomfortable with the framework because of the associated loss of control and policy autonomy. Since the health security discourse largely focuses on those diseases that could threaten developed states, developing states like those in Africa find their health policies increasingly dominated by responding to developed state

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concerns. It also undermines state sovereignty and autonomy, as health programs in African states become increasingly dependent upon donor requests and conditionalities.50 As a result, governments in Sub-Saharan Africa are increasingly reluctant to accept the categorization of health as a security concern.51 Furthermore, conceptualizing health as a security issue frequently leads to a crisis-oriented mentality. New and novel diseases receive disproportionate attention, and attention focuses on epidemic diseases that threaten to spread beyond borders.52 Endemic diseases, which are responsible for the majority of Africa’s disease mortality and morbidity burden, receive less attention because they are assumed to be part of the fabric of the country. A shortterm crisis mentality may lead to rapid, immediate responses, but addressing the underlying determinants of health requires long-term, sustained commitments. A crisis-based response emphasizes defensive measures, but pays less attention to long-term processes like prevention, strengthening the public health infrastructure, and building surveillance capabilities in developing countries.53 While praising the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR), Patterson notes that its relatively quick passage demonstrated a belief among policymakers that AIDS was less a long-term development issue and more of a short-term fix. “Emergencies require quick attention, but the implication is that an emergency can be fixed relatively rapidly.”54 Fixing a country’s health care infrastructure or ensuring that children have access to life-saving vaccinations will not emerge from a crisis mentality. That sort of sustained attention will likely only emerge from a framework that recognizes the value of addressing health concerns in Africa as human rights or humanitarian issues. As Feldbaum notes, “Addressing most global health issues cannot be justified by national security considerations . . . some serious global health issues will likely never be linked credibly to US national security interests. Such issues will have to rely on moral, humanitarian, or other frameworks to win US funding and political support.”55 Instead of focusing on security-based concerns, foreign governments that want to promote improved health in Africa should base their assistance and commitment on generosity, compassion, and creating the preconditions for economic development and global prosperity.56 Finally, and perhaps most importantly, attempting to create a direct, linear relationship between health and security may actually work against its advocates’ desires. Barnett and Dutta find no conclusive evidence for a direct link between HIV prevalence and state fragility,57 while Sato uncovers no statistically significant relationship between AIDS and state fragility among low-income countries under stress.58 Peterson describes the paradox


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thusly: “By overdrawing the link between infectious disease and security, however, public health and human security advocates sabotage their own attempts to motivate developed nations to fights AIDS in Africa and elsewhere . . . . Linking an urgent issue to security may raise awareness, but it likely will also hinder much of the cooperation that human security and public health advocates seek and that the disastrous humanitarian and development effects of infectious diseases demand.”59 Addressing health in Africa requires international cooperation and a willingness to share among states. Security encourages governments to think narrowly about their own interests and how they can gain or preserve their advantages over others. Humanitarian health objectives are largely at odds with this state-centric model of security because the former offers a far more inclusive vision and responsibility than the latter.60 Suggestions and Conclusions In this paper, I have argued that security is not the most appropriate framework for encouraging national and international action on infectious disease in Sub-Saharan Africa. Infectious diseases cause a disproportionate share of the region’s morbidity and mortality, and the international community clearly has an interest in reducing the spread of AIDS, malaria, tuberculosis, diarrheal diseases, and lower respiratory infections. Calling these diseases security threats or issues, while potentially attention-grabbing, distracts attention from the nature of the threat posed by these diseases and skews funding. If security is inappropriate, what is a better framework for encouraging action and attention? I propose conceptualizing infectious disease as a human rights or development issue instead of a security issue. Such a framework would emphasize the connections between human rights as written in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, and the African Charter of Human and Peoples’ Rights, among others, and good health. People need to be healthy in order to take advantage of and realize their inherent human rights, and numerous human rights charters explicitly recognize a right to health. Some, like the African Charter of Human and Peoples’ Rights and the South African Bill of Rights, go even further and specify a positive obligation for the government to ensure the good health of their citizenry. Using a human rights or development framework for addressing infectious disease in Africa instead of security has four distinct advantages. First, it emphasizes the long-term nature of these issues. Neither human rights

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nor development can be realized in a few short years. They are an ongoing project, requiring constant attention and vigilance. Doing so requires the active attention of both local governments and the international community in a collaborative manner. Second, this framework encourages paying attention to a wider range of infectious diseases and health threats in Sub-Saharan Africa. Some of the leading causes of death in the region, like malaria, lower respiratory infections, and diarrheal diseases, overwhelmingly affect children. As such, they are highly unlikely to receive attention within a security framework. Few would argue that the deaths of children under the age of five is likely to destabilize a country, provoke international aggression, or lead to the collapse of a national government. The security framework encourages this selective attention, emphasizing those diseases that may have military implications rather than those that have the greatest effects on the population as a whole. This has helped to distort health spending, with AIDS receiving a disproportionate share of health-related aid from international sources.61 A human rights or development framework pays attention to a wider range of infectious diseases because it has a more holistic approach. Children may not militarily relevant, but their survival and prosperity can lead to greater economic prosperity and political development over time. Third, a human rights or development framework resonates with existent narratives, Over the past 20, AIDS activists have come to situate their claims for treatment and prevention programs in human rights terms.62 Universal access to antiretroviral drugs has gained currency as an international norm, altering existing paradigms about pharmaceutical access.63 Tapping into this emerging consensus will allow for greater long-term success. Finally, a human rights framework allows for greater participation from nonstate actors. Security is widely seen as the sole domain of the state. Given the challenges ill health poses to Sub-Saharan Africa, though, it is highly unlikely that state governments on their own can adequately address them. A human rights and development framework, on the other hand, recognizes the value of reaching out to and incorporating voices from nongovernmental organizations, philanthropic organizations, and private business. Incorporating all of these difference groups along with governments and finding mechanisms for coordination heightens the chance that the full spectrum of health issues will be addressed. Calling health in Sub-Saharan Africa may initially appear attractive, and its discourse has been dominant in recent years. However, its shortcomings limit its efficacy. The infectious disease threat in Sub-Saharan Africa is real and significant, but a security framework has not and will not produce the sort of long-term attention necessary to adequately address the issue.


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Notes 1. World Health Organization, The Global Burden of Disease: 2004 Update (Geneva: World Health Organization, 2004). 2. UNAIDS, 2008 Report on the Global AIDS Epidemic (Geneva: UNAIDS, 2008). 3. AVERT, “HIV and AIDS in Africa,” July 29, 2009, http://www.avert.org/ aafrica.htm. 4. Kim Ashburn, Nandini Oomman, Dave Wendt, and Steve Rosenzweig, Moving Beyond Gender as Usual (Washington, D.C.: Center for Global Development, 2009), 1. 5. Ibid. 6. AVERT, “HIV, AIDS, and Children,” July 29, 2009, http://www.avert.org/ children.htm. 7. Yee-Wei Lim, Marc Steinhoff, Federico Girosi, Douglas Holtzman, Harry Campbell, Rob Boer, Robert Black, and Kim Mulholland, “Reducing the Global Burden of Acute Lower Respiratory Infections in Children: The Contribution of New Diagnostics,” Nature 444, no. 5442 (2006): 9–16. 8. William Eagle, “NGOs Urge Renewed Fight Against Diarrheal Diseases,” Voice of America, June 19, 2009, http://www.voanews.com/. 9. Thomas Nchinda, “Malaria: A Reemerging Disease in Africa,” Emerging Infectious Diseases 4, no. 3 (1998): 398. 10. Randall M. Packard, The Making of a Tropical Disease: A Short History of Malaria (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2007), 178. 11. World Health Organization, “Malaria,” http://www.who.int/mediacentre/ factsheets/fs094/en/index.html (accessed July 30, 2009). 12. Gallup, John Luke and Jeffrey Sachs, “The Economic Burden of Malaria,” American Journal of Tropical Medicine and Hygiene 64, no. 1 (2001): 85–96. 13. World Health Organization, Global Burden of Disease (Geneva: World Health Organization, 2004). 14. Richard E. Chaisson and Neil A. Martinson, “Tuberculosis in Africa— Combating an HIV-Driven Crisis,” New England Journal of Medicine 358, no. 11 (2008): 1089. 15. World Health Organization, “Tuberculosis,” http://www.who.int/mediacentre/ factsheets/fs104/en/index.html (accessed July 30, 2009). 16. Yanis Ben Amor, Bennett Nemser, Angad Singh, Alyssa Sankin, and Neil Schluger, “Underreported Threat of Multidrug-Resistant Tuberculosis in Africa,” Emerging Infectious Diseases 14, no. 9 (2008): 1345–1352; Jerome Amir Singh, Ross Upshur, and Nesri Padayatchi, “XDR-TB in South Africa: No Time for Denial or Complacency,” PLoS Medicine 4, no. 1 (2007): 19–25. 17. Stephen Walt, “The Renaissance of Security Studies,” International Studies Quarterly 35, no. 2 (1991): 212. 18. Daniel Deudney, “The Case against Linking Environmental Degradation and National Security,” Millennium 19, no. 3 (1990): 461–476. 19. Edward W. Kolodziej, “Renaissance in Security Studies? Caveat Lector!,” International Studies Quarterly 36, no. 4 (1992): 421–438.

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20. United Nations Development Program, Human Development Report, 1994 (New York: Oxford, 1994), 22. 21. Colin McInnes, “Health,” in Security Studies: An Introduction, ed. Paul Williams (New York: Routledge, 2008), 276–277. 22. Ole Waever, “Securitization and Desecuritization,” in On Security, ed. Ronnie Lipschutz (New York: Columbia University Press, 1995), 65. 23. Susan Peterson and Stephen Shellman, “AIDS and Violent Conflict: The Indirect Effects of Disease on National Security,” Institute for the Theory and Practice of International Relations Working Paper, http://www.wm.edu/ irtheoryandpractice/security/papers/AIDS.pdf, 6–8. 24. Vinh-Kim Nguyen and Katherine Stovel, The Social Science of HIV/AIDS: A Critical Review and Priorities for Action (New York: SSRC, 2004), 37. 25. Ibid., 35. 26. United Nations Development Program, “HIV/AIDS Implications for Poverty Reduction,” UNDP Policy Paper, Background Paper prepared for the United Nations Development Program for the UN General Assembly Special Session on HIV/AIDS, 2001. 27. International Crisis Group, HIV/AIDS as a Security Issue (Brussels: International Crisis Group, 2001). 28. Peterson and Shellman, “AIDS and Violent Conflict,” 6. 29. Anthony C. Butler, “The Negative and Positive Impacts of HIV/AIDS on Democracy in South Africa,” Journal of Contemporary African Studies 23, no. 1 (2005): 5–7. 30. Jeremy Youde, “Government AIDS Policies and Public Opinion in Africa,” Politikon 39, no. 2 (2009): 219–235. 31. Per Strand, Khabele Matlosa, Ann Strode, and Kondwani Chirambo, HIV/AIDS and Democratic Governance in South Africa: Illustrating the Impact on Electoral Processes (Pretoria: IDASA, 2006), 96–97. 32. International Crisis Group, HIV/AIDS as a Security Issue, 15–16. 33. Andrew T. Price-Smith, Contagion and Chaos: Disease, Ecology, and National Security in the Era of Globalization (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2009), 24. 34. Lindy Heinecken, “The Potential Impact of HIV/AIDS on the South African Armed Forces: Some Evidence from Outside and Within,” African Security Review 18, no. 1 (2009): 62. 35. Lindy Heinecken, “HIV/AIDS, the Military, and the Impact on National and International Security,” Society in Transition 32, no.1 (2001): 121–122. 36. Lindy Heinecken, “Facing a Merciless Enemy: HIV/AIDS and the South African Armed Forces,” Armed Forces and Society 29, no. 2 (2003): 291–292. 37. Robert L. Ostergard, Jr., “Politics in the Hot Zone: AIDS and National Security in Africa,” Third World Quarterly 23, no. 2 (2002): 334. 38. Stefan Elbe, “HIV/AIDS and the Changing Landscape of War in Africa,” International Security 27, no. 1 (2002): 153. 39. Heinecken, “HIV/AIDS, the Military, and the Impact,” 126.


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40. World Health Organization, “Cumulative Number of Confirmed Cases of Influenza A/(H5N1) Reported to WHO,” July 1, 2009. http://www.who.int/csr/ disease/avian_influenza/country/cases_table_2009_07_01/en/index.html. 41. McInnes, “Health,” 285. 42. Colin McInnes and Kelley Lee, “Health, Security, and Foreign Policy,” Review of International Studies 32, no. 1 (2006): 9. 43. Peterson and Shellman, “AIDS and Violent Conflict.” 44. Tony Barnett and Gwyn Prins, “HIV/AIDS and Security: Fact, Fiction, and Evidence—A Report to UNAIDS,” International Affairs 82, no. 2 (2006): 359–368. 45. Colin McInnes, “HIV/AIDS and Security,” International Affairs 82, no. 2 (2006): 315–326. 46. McInnes and Lee, “Health, Security, and Foreign Policy,” 16–17. 47. Ibid., 11–12. 48. McInnes and Lee, “Health, Security, and Foreign Policy,” 6. 49. David P. Fidler, “Vital Signs,” The World Today (February 2009): 29. 50. Netherlands Ministry of Foreign Affairs, HIV/AIDS, Security, and Democracy: Seminar Report (Clingendael Institute, The Hague, 2009), 8. http://asci.ssrc.org/ doclibrary/seminar_report.pdf. 51. William Aldis, “Health Security as a Public Health Concept: A Critical Analysis,” Health Policy and Planning 23, no. 6 (2008): 372–373. 52. Fidler, “Vital Signs,” 29. 53. Harley Feldbaum, US Global Health and National Security Policy (Washington: CSIS, 2009), 2. http://www.csis.org/files/media/csis/pubs/090420_feldbaum_ usglobalhealth.pdf. 54. Amy S. Patterson, The Politics of AIDS in Africa (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 2006), 139. 55. Feldbaum, US Global Health, 8. 56. Committee on the US Commitment to Global Health, The US Commitment to Global Health: Recommendations for the New Administration (Washington: National Academies Press, 2008). 57. Tony Barnett and Indranil Dutta, HIV and State Failure: Is HIV a Security Risk? (New York: SSRC, 2008), 17. 58. Azusa Sato, Is HIV/AIDS a Threat to Security in Fragile States? (New York: SSRC, 2008). 59. Susan Peterson, “Human Security, National Security, and Epidemic Disease,” in HIV/AIDS and the Threat to National and International Security, ed. Robert L. Ostergard, Jr. (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007), 38. 60. Harley Feldbaum, Preeti Patel, Egbert Sondorp, and Kelley Lee, “Global Health and National Security: The Need for Critical Engagement,” Medicine, Conflict, and Survival 22, no. 3 (2006): 196. 61. Jeremy Shiffman, “Has Donor Prioritization of HIV/AIDS Displaced Aid for Other Health Issues?” Health Policy and Planning 23, no. 2 (2008): 95–100.

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62. Jeremy Youde, “From Resistance to Receptivity: Transforming the AIDS Crisis into a Human Rights Issue,” in The International Struggle for New Human Rights, ed. Clifford Bob (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), 68–82. 63. Jeremy Youde, “Is Universal Access to Antiretroviral Drugs an Emerging International Norm?” Journal of International Relations and Development 11, no. 4 (2008): 415–440.

PART II

The International Community and African Crises


CHAPTER 7

Darfur and the International Community: Self-determination, State building, and “The Responsibility to Protect” M.A. Mohamed Salih

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onventionally, the international community referred to world governments with commonly shared duties and obligations in respect to protecting human rights and engaging or confronting totalitarian regimes—among other duties and obligations. A broader conception of the international community should include, in addition to the United Nations as the supreme intergovernmental organization, a multitude of nongovernmental actors such as transnational nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) and transnational civil society activism. Such conceptualization is informed by contemporary global governance arrangements, including diverse nongovernmental actors that also have responsibilities and duties in the world community.1 Using the case of Darfur, the chapter gauges the international community’s contemporary engagement with two major concepts in mind: state building and self-determination, noting that these concepts are not static and largely influenced by a rapidly changing International Relations context. Historically, the major elements of authoritarian state building that dominated the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries included war in order to unite diverse nations and nationalities or to protect the state’s sources of support vis-à-vis what the state perceived as renegade regions or rebellious ethnic groups. This mode of mediated state building is common in some countries where after attaining

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independence and self-rule from the colonial powers, the states were challenged by ethno-nationalist and liberation movements of various ideological persuasions. In large part, liberation movements have invoked the right to self-determination citing factors such as “decolonization failure, authoritarian rule, exclusion-cum-inequitable development and the predatory nature of the state.”2 On the other hand, governments predicate their position on the need to ensure state building and maintain sovereignty and national integrity. Considering the emergence of Darfur’s two major liberation movements (Equity and Justice and Sudan Liberation Movement/Army), indeed the conflict in Darfur could be attributed to similar factors and also aim at a milder form of self-determination linked to democratic state building. Essentially, Darfur liberation movements struggle for self-determination (defined as autonomy under democratic rule). Therefore, the conflict in Darfur has created three interlocked trajectories, which the International Community ought to address: (a) The right to self-determination, which in the post-Cold War era has transcended the conception of decolonization or self-determination of people living under foreign rule. (b) State building has also parted with the idea of state making through war to a new conception of democratic state building under the ethos of (c) the “responsibility to protect”3 civilians where human rights abuses have occurred or where crimes against humanity or genocide have been committed. In Darfur, the international community straddles the uncomfortable position of supporting a democratic state building in a nondemocratic state bent on authoritarian state building through war making. In a sense, there is no contradiction in the international community’s support for democratic state building while adhering to the right to self-determination and the responsibility to protect in the case of Darfur. However, evidently there is a contention between these principles and the current overriding principle of “the responsibility to protect” with its farreaching implications, not least for two imperatives: sovereignty, and peace and security. The Darfur crisis offers a compelling case for illustrating how “the responsibility to protect” is made subservient to pragmatism inherent in international power relations and interests. This chapter consists of four sections: Section one traces the changing nature of self-determination and state building during the post-Cold War era. Section two delineates transnational NGOs and civic activism, role as part of the international community to engender wide support from various ideological, religious, racial, class and transcending countries and regions against human rights and crimes against humanity in Darfur. Section three deals with the role of the African Union (AU) and the United Nation in

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Darfur (UNAMID) and its culmination in the Security Council referral of Sudan to the International Criminal Court. In sum, I propose that, using the international community as a singular or a concept limited to intergovernmental organizations or the United Nations misses the point in two respects: first, the international community consists not only of governments with various interests, but also the new concepts of global governance by necessity include nongovernmental actors and civic activism among others. Second, generalizing the failure of one actor and attributing it to all actors in the conflict in Darfur would do great injustice and fails to recognize the role of transnational NGO and civic activism in placing Darfur in the top of the international community’s agenda. Changing Patterns of Self-Determination and State Building In post-Cold War Africa, at least four significant developments illustrate how state building and self-determination have gained not only new impetus but also new meanings. First, originally conceived after the World War I, self-determination meant the rights of people to self-rule in independent states. The fifth of Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points Speech4 defined selfdetermination as, “a free, open-minded, and absolutely impartial adjustment of all colonial claims, based upon a strict observance of the principle that in determining all such questions of sovereignty the interests of the populations concerned must have equal weight with the equitable claims of the government whose title is to be determined.”5 Second, in post-World War II, particularly during the Cold War, decolonization of states living under foreign rule in Africa, Asia, and Latin America was the dominant form of self-determination. The majority of the World states gained independence and became sovereign supported by the United Nations.6 Sudan’s independence from the Anglo-Egyptian colonial rule in 1956 could be attributed to this form of decolonization. Third, soon after gaining independence from foreign colonial powers, internal decolonization began in earnest, largely waged by (ethno) nationalist movements which fought for cession or autonomy from their independent states (e.g., Biafra, Eritrea, South Sudan, and Chad) or contesting the ideological makeup of their countries under the influence of the Cold War rivalry (e.g., Angola and Mozambique). During this phase, state sovereignty was sacrosanct and often protected by its ideological allies in the Western or the Eastern blocs. In Africa, the Organization for African Unity pronounced its policy of noninterference in internal affairs of member states. During this era, the state “wielded central and final authority over all the legal and political matters within a determinate and strictly bounded territory”7 with

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no interference of other states except as allies or enemies. Sadly despite the reported figure of 1.9–2 million civilians killed in the first civil was in South Sudan (1955–1972), there was no concern with human rights or charges of crimes against humanity. Fourth, the post-Cold War era questioned the noninterference principle. Governments which in the past had authority to exercise ultimate control over what goes on inside its jurisdiction, including human rights abuses or committing crimes against humanity can no longer do so. Today, outside agents such as the United Nations can intervene to protect victims of state atrocities. In post-1990s wars (Somalia, the Balkans, Iraq, Afghanistan, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Liberia, and Sierra Leone) the international community has challenged the view that states are sovereign in abusing human rights, committing genocide against their citizens. The era of “the responsibility to protect” has propelled a major shift in the conception of self-determination and sovereignty. The conflict in Darfur belongs to those conflicts managed under the fourth generation of self-determination architecture, whereby a major shift in the international administrative and legal frameworks for managing conflicts has occurred in contemporary Africa and elsewhere. This has shifted the burden of sovereignty from states to people, under the auspices of the responsibility to protect even if protection means interference or intervention in political matters previously considered the sole purview of the internal affairs of the state. Fourth generation self-determination occurred in an era of a noticeable presence and participation of a multitude of nonstate actors in the emergent global governance regime (nongovernmental and civil society organizations, regional political and economic integration entities, the private sector etc.) and their attempt to define what constitutes sovereignty and self-determination in the twenty-first century.8 Likewise, the conception of state building has also shifted and acquired new meaning which distinguishes it from earlier conceptions. Democratic rather than authoritarian state building has become the preferred principle. Charles Tilly in his seminal paper on “War Making and State Making as Organized Crime” reminds us that early forms of state building were oppressive. Predatory states used what Tilly calls an organized crime in state building,9 which involved one or more of the following practices: war making—eliminating or neutralizing their own rivals outside the territories in which they have clear and continuous priority as wielders of force; state making—eliminating or neutralizing their rivals inside those territories; protection—eliminating or neutralizing the enemies of their clients; extraction—acquiring the means of carrying out the first three activities—war


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making, state making, and protection. These four processes, without exception, apply to the case in Darfur, and I will use them here to illustrate how the Sudanese state has been using archaic and abusive methods reminiscent of early state formation as has been described by Tilly (1985: 181–185). I have used those to explain the case of Darfur as follows: War Making: The case of Sudan illustrates this vividly. Sudan consummated its independence in a civil war which was commenced less than a year before independence was officially declared in 1956 and continued unabated, with a short lull during the 1970s and was resumed until 2005.10 Sudanese governments of various ideological persuasions spent much the country’s independence in wars designed to build a unified state. In the case of Darfur, war making has been a deliberate and systematic act by government against what is perceived as a periphery struggling to assert its autonomy from the highly centralized oppressive Sudanese state. The 2003 rebellion by Darfur liberation movements and the state retaliation, which was brutal and unrelenting, was part of this war-making effort. State Making: Owing to Sudan’s short experiences with democratic rule, military or military-civilian governments have predominated. Unfortunately, military and military-civilian governments have maintained an authoritariancum-predatory state-building pattern which nullified any prospect for democratic state building. In other words, duties enshrined in democratic state building such as the responsibility to protect life, property, liberty, civil, and political rights have been in short supply. Seen from this perspective, on the majority, Sudanese postindependence states have hardly earned their legitimacy from competitive politics, democratic rule or electoral consent. Umder these circumstances, war making has become a weapon of convenience for state-making. Protection of Sources of Support: Any government responsibility is to protect all citizens regardless of whether they support it or not. However, this has not the case in the Sudan, where the state has abdicated two of its most cherished functions: (a) neutrality, that is, any state is expected to act as a mediator or an arbiter of different ethnic, religious and other claims; and (b) monopoly over the use of force and coercion. During a great part of Sudan’s postindependence history, the state has been unperturbed in sharing with nonstate actors or paramilitary groups such tribal militias, including the use of the governmentarmed militia, the Janjaweed, at an earlier phase of the Darfur crisis.11 The result has been devastating as the Darfur case illustrates. Resource Extraction and Land Alienation: Predatory states are infamous of using force and coercion for resource capture (land, oil, minerals etc.) purposes. Three characteristics have predominated predatory state resource extraction and land alienation patterns in Darfur. (a) An increased orientation of the

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economy toward national and international markets has spurred demand for increasing state intervention. Increased state intervention triggered conflicts of interest between non-Darfurian rulers both colonial and national, mostly from central or northern Sudan, entrusted with exercising state authority and local elite operating under authoritarian centralized states. Naturally, these conflicts were not just about jobs and employment, they were also about who governs, how resources are managed, and the factors of development redistributed by whom and for whose benefit. Darfur fared worse than most in all these respects. (b) An intensification of the conflict between the agrarian and pastoral sectors and between these and the state sponsored modern sector. Recurrent droughts and famines in the desert and semidesert zones of northern Darfur during the last three decades have contributed to mass displacement of peoples. As a result, southward population mobility to central and southern Darfur (endowed with fertile lands and higher rainfall) began in earnest. Furthermore, in recent years, an increased human and livestock population density in central and Southern Darfur has intensified resource conflicts. However, the current crisis cannot be attributed to or brushed aside as mere resource conflict. The Sudanese state involvement has up-scaled the conflicts from locally contained to a national and regional crisis. (c) Inequitable and mal-distribution of the factors of development accompanied with skewed power sharing grid. Resource siphoning from the periphery to the center has resulted in severe regional disparity, which aggravated the already existing severe social and ethnic cleavages, creating grievances and resentments in a political context ripe for rebellion.

In Darfur and elsewhere (Southern and Eastern Sudan) the Sudanese government used authoritarian state-building methods which are in sharp contrast with post-Cold War developments which hinge on democratic state-building principles. It is worth mentioning here that Francis Fukuyama (2003, 2004 and 2005) has renewed the academic debate on democratic state building in war-stricken, post-conflict, and fragile states.12 His work was given significant attention by the World Bank and other multilateral institutions, which resulted in a spate of publications by major international development agencies. These publications have associated state building with building governance capacity, human development,13 constructing fragile states,14 and the role of the state in development,15 among others. A synoptic review of the new conception of state building lands us in a territory starkly different from that of state making through war, the protection of sources of support or resource extraction without due process or redistribution. The new state building paradigm is no longer state centered and as such includes two other pivotal axes: a humanitarian and activist axis. The state is concerned with fundamental functions of the state as projected in classical state theory (as provider of the public good, maintenance of peace and


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order, arbiter of different political culture claims, protecting life and property right).16 As summed by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), state building should be the central objective of international assistance, and that it should support the building of effective, legitimate and resilient states. The principles mark an important conceptual and policy shift, both from the legacy of earlier development strategies that tended to minimize the role of the state, and from the singular focus on state fragility in the context of post-conflict peace building. According to OECD, they also require the donor community to consider explicitly questions of strategic coherence with international engagements that are more conventionally political.17 Also part of the international dimension of contemporary state building is the increasing role of regional and sub-regional organizations. In the case of Darfur, the role of the AU was particularly significant, owing to its partnership with the United Nations (UN) peacekeeping mission known as UNIMED.18 The third dimension is civic or nongovernmental and its unique functions being independent of the direct influence of governments and liberation movements. Their functions often include human rights protection and democracy and the rule of law promotion, protection of the vulnerable, support humanitarian assistance and emergence relief efforts and empowering local NGOs and community organizations.19 The following section elucidates the role of transnational NGOs and civic activism in Darfur and their influence of the international community interventions. Darfur Liberation Movements and the Other International Community (Transnational NGOs and Civic Activism) The emergence of Darfur liberation movements could be traced to the establishment of Darfur Liberation Front (DLF)20 in late 1980s as a response to rampant poverty, inequitable distribution of the factors of development, and the activities of the Sudanese government-sponsored tribal militias in South Darfur, renamed the Popular Defence Forces (PDF).21 DLF created a broad-based alliance with Darfurian ethnic groups that oppose the Sudanese government and government-backed militias, the Janjaweed, known for their notoriety and raids of migrant farming communities from the northern part of Darfur as a response to recurrent droughts and famines.22 In 2003, Abdel Wahed Mohammed al-Nur, the leader of Darfur Liberation Front changed its name to Sudan Liberation Army (SLA) with its political wing known as Sudan Liberation Movement (hence SLA/SLM). The

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creation of SLA marked a formidable ideological shift from the Darfur Liberation Front, which was a secessionist movement premised on establishing a separate Darfur state, to a movement that aspires to create a democratic and more equitable Sudan. The SLA/SLM position on the unity of the Sudan is stated in its Political Declaration as follows: The Sudan Liberation Movement/Army is of the view that Sudan’s unity is of paramount importance, but it should not be maintained and cannot be viable unless it is based on justice and equality for all the Sudanese peoples. Sudan’s unity must be anchored on a new basis that is predicated on full acknowledgement of Sudan’s ethnic, cultural, social and political diversity. Viable unity must therefore ultimately be based on the right of self-determination and the free will of the various peoples of Sudan. The fundamental imperatives of a viable unity are an economy and political system that address the uneven development and marginalization that have plagued the country since independence, so that the interests of the marginalized majority are adequately catered for and they are brought to the same level of development of the ruling minority. The SLM/A shall work with all political forces that ascribe to this view.23

However, SLM/SLA claim that it reserves the right to self-determination (including cession) if the current situation of uneven development is not addressed by the Sudan government.24 The objective of SLM/SLA therefore is to create a united democratic Sudan on a new basis of equality, complete restructuring and devolution of power, inequitable development, cultural and political pluralism and moral and material prosperity for all Sudanese. In a sense, SLM/SLA affirms itself as a national movement that aims to address and solve the fundamental problems of the entire Sudan. This objective is similar to that of the Southern Movement as espoused by the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement and Sudan Peoples Liberation Army (SPLM/SPLA), which began its struggle for self-determination under the slogan of a united Sudan. Second, the Justice and Equality Movement (JEM), lead by Khalil Ibrahim, has very different antecedence and objectives because a few—but not all—of its leaders harboured Islamist leanings, or previously were members of but parted with the National Islamic Front.25 By and large; JEM political orientation is spelled out in its manifesto for achieving peace in the Sudan. The second article of the JEM Protocol reads as follows: The Adoption of peaceful transition of power as a strategic option, meant to secure the stability and unity of the nation, and transparency and accountability in governance. The implementation of a federal system of governance for all the six regions of the Sudan which shall allow for democratic self-governing by every region, within a united Sudan and participation by the regions in the


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central power, which shall be according to a national criterion based on the population of every region, as well as any other criteria to be agreed upon, provided that all the regions shall participate in governing the national capital and occupying the federal public positions in accordance with the population proportion for every region.26

Obviously, JEM shares with SLM/SLA the position that it does not struggle to create a separate Darfur state, but for a democratic united Sudan based on equity and justice.27 Third, Sudan Federal Democratic Alliance (SFDA) is led by Ahmed Draige, previously a member of the Umma Party and former Minister of State, and his Deputy, Sharif Harir, served as advisor to SLA/SLM team during Abuja negotiations. This indicates that SFDA and SLA/SLM share a common platform aimed at creating a united democratic federal Sudan. To be sure, SFDA’s charter (published in January 1994) known as A New Political Structure for the Sudan, purports that in the political sphere it aims, “to create a political order free from racism and religious intolerance, one which ensures individual freedom and promotes the common interests of all the Sudanese people, and to this end, to promote a democratic process that accommodates differing political views and basic freedoms based on clearly stated laws.”28 None of Darfur’s major liberation movements and political organizations advocates cession as the main objective of their struggle. Their conception of self-determination as greater autonomy from the central government through regional/federal arrangements is by and large embedded in democratic state building.29 The conflict in Darfur began in the spring of 2003 when two liberation movements—the SLM and JEM—launched attacks against Sudan armed forces, police stations and airports. The Sudanese government’s response was as brutal as it was disproportionate. It coordinated raids with the janjaweed, targeting civilians, burning grain storage facilities and looting livestock in order to weaken the populations resolve and leave them with nothing to support themselves let alone the liberation movements. By mid 2004, the conflict in Darfur had developed into a full-blown humanitarian crisis declared by some world leaders as genocide.30 The conflict continues unabated despite the hurriedly organized Abjua Peace Conference which resulted in the Abuja Agreement which was rejected by JEM and SLA/SLM.31 In August 2009 it was estimated by United Nations that 137,819 people were driven from their homes by fighting in Darfur in the first six months of the year, on top of the 2.7 million internally displaced peoples already in camps and over 200,000 who lost their lives. The international community adopted a three prong strategy: (a) humanitarian intervention, (b) negotiated peaceful settlement of the crisis and

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(c) diplomatic effort aiming at exerting pressure on the Sudanese government to resolve its differences with the Darfur liberation movements, indeed the people of Darfur, peacefully. Darfur liberation movements are important parties to the crisis and are therefore part of any solution to it, which explains the engagement of the international community both with the liberation movements and the Sudanese government. In the following part of this section, I deal with the international community’s attempts at negotiating a peaceful resolution to the Darfur crisis and the humanitarian effort. In the following section, I deal with the relationship between NGOs and Activists, the International Criminal Court (ICC), and the Sudanese government. First, the Abuja Agreement (referred as Darfur Peace Agreement, May 5, 2006) between the Sudanese government, JEM, and SLA/SLM was sponsored by the AU and the United Nations.32 Although Darfur liberation movements have not received direct approval by the international community, their struggle for self-determination (as regional/federal autonomy) and rebuilding a democratic Sudanese state would have earned them respect. The attitude of the international community toward the Sudanese government is in sharp contrast to that of Darfur movements and transnational civil society organizations, particularly the atrocities that it has committed in Darfur, mainly against civilian populations. The Sudanese government acts are predicated on outdated principles of state making—maintaining sovereignty and national integration by war making against what it considered a renegade insurgency rather than through democratic state building, which is the dominant governance paradigm of the day. Obviously, the Abuja Agreement contained major contemporary democratic governance concerns, relating to Article 1, as numbered: (1) The Republic of the Sudan is an independent, sovereign state; sovereignty is vested in the people and shall be exercised by the State in accordance with the provisions of the National Constitution into which this Agreement shall be incorporated; (2) Citizenship shall be the basis for civil and political rights and obligations; (3) Religions, beliefs, traditions and customs are the source of moral strength and inspiration for the Sudanese people; (4) A peaceful devolution of power through democratic means is a guarantor of stability and unity of the country; (5) Separation of the legislative, executive and judicial powers shall consolidate good governance, accountability, transparency and commitment to the welfare of the people; (6) The rule of law shall prevail and the independence of the judiciary shall be guaranteed; (7) The Parties reiterate their commitment to respect, protect and promote human rights and fundamental freedoms; (8) Power sharing is vital for national unity. The peaceful transfer of power on the; basis of free and fair elections shall be the


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foundation for democratic governance in the Sudan; (9) A federal system of government, with an effective devolution of powers and a clear distribution of responsibilities between the center and other levels of government, including local administration, is essential to ensure fair and equitable participation by the citizens of the Sudan in general and those of Darfur in particular. Only the breakaway faction, Sudan Liberation Army, led by Minni Arkou Minawi (SLA/MM) signed the Agreement with the Sudan government. The SLA faction of Abdel Wahid Mohamed Nur (SLA/AW) and the Justice and Equality Movement (JEM) of Khalil Ibrahim refused to sign the Agreement. In rejecting the Agreement, they argued that it does not offer their movements direct participation in the security arrangements, and that the protocols on power sharing and wealth sharing do not address adequately the root causes of the conflict, particularly the inequalities which contributed to the conflict in the first place. Instead of peace and security for the beleaguered people of Darfur, the Darfur Peace Agreement has contributed to more structural violence committed by the Sudan government and its militia (the Janjaweed ) and the fracturing of the rebel forces into more than 12 squabbling factions. The United Nations (Security Council) and the AU responded by calling for increasing the number of the peacekeepers in order to deal with the increasingly deteriorating humanitarian situation—I deal with this issue in the next section. As the voluntary arm of the international community, two types of Darfur civic action groups have emerged: conventional transnational and national NGOs delivering humanitarian assistance in Darfur and human rights and anti-genocide and crimes against humanity activists working outside of Sudan due to restrictions imposed by the Sudanese government. I will consider this matter more in details in the following lines. At the beginning of the Darfur crisis in 2003, there were 37 major transnational NGOs operating in Darfur, employing more than 12,000 international and local Sudanese volunteers.33 Their roles include procuring, managing and delivering humanitarian assistance (food and nutrition supplements, water and sanitation, medicine, shelter materials as well as constructing latrines and collecting and analysis information about displaced peoples’ movements and conditions), which is remarkable. This has reduced the number of transnational NGOs operating in Darfur to 16.34 Unfortunately, as the conflict intensified, the humanitarian agencies and organizations came under two sources of pressure: attacks by unidentified armed groups and the obstacles imposed by the Sudanese government. First, part of the mandate of AU/United Nations hybrid force was to protect the NGOs who came under increasing attacks from bandits and bounty

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hunters.35 In fact, even the peacekeepers were attacked by bandits and militias of different ethnic and political persuasions. Second, the 16 major NGOs operating in Darfur were expelled upon the International Criminal Court (ICC) indictment of President Omar Al Bashir and the issuing of an arrest warrant (on March 4, 2009), accusing him of crimes against humanity in Darfur. The expelled agencies and NGOs employ nearly 40 percent of the humanitarian assistance workers in Darfur, estimating that in total 7,610 humanitarian staff are affected.36 The space allowed for a chapter will not allow me to address Darfur activism in full. What I attempt here is to introduce one of Darfur’s most influential activists, the US-based Save Darfur Coalition (SDC). It is an alliance of more than 180 faith-based, advocacy, and human rights organizations aimed at raising public awareness and mobilizing a unified response of the plight of the people of Darfur. The overall objectives of the group includes: (a) ending the violence against civilians, (b) facilitating adequate and unhindered humanitarian aid, (c) establishing conditions for the safe and voluntary return of displaced people to their homes, (d) promoting the long-term sustainable development of Darfur, and (e) holding the perpetrators accountable.37 The Save Darfur Coalition was responsible for organizing 100,000 person rallies under the banner “Save Darfur: Rally to Stop Genocide” held in Washington, D.C. on April 30, 2006. The main objectives were to give the AU/UN peacekeeping mission unrestricted access to reach the victims of the conflict. The rally also demanded an improved delivery and access of humanitarian assistance to Darfur IDPs and refugees as well as holding the perpetrators of genocide accountable for the atrocities they have committed in Darfur.38 The alliance member organizations belong to diverse religious, racial, political and ideological persuasions. For example, they include the powerful National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the American Federation of State; County and Municipal Employees (AFSCME) (the largest member of the American Federation of Labor and Congress of Industrial Organizations); the Arab American Institute (ARI), the Buddhist Peace Fellowship (BPF); the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR); the Rabbinical Assembly (RA), among other nationally and internationally influential advocacy organizations and lobby groups.39 The Save Darfur Coalition is vivid representation of Olesen’s conception of the institutionalization of global solidarity in which civil society organizations have a global reach and subsequently acquired the ability to influence international affairs through advocacy and lobbying.40 These new citizento-citizen solidarities offer a new dimension to the concept of international community, which is no longer the sole domain occupied by governments. It includes both actions undertaken by governments as well as World citizens.


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Surly, the relationship between Darfur liberation Movements and the international community (the AU/United nations or the humanitarian assistance agencies, transnational NGOs and activists) has not been easy. Darfurian major liberation movements’ rejection of the Abuja Peace Agreement initially landed them in a difficult position vis-à-vis the international community.41 Their rejection of the Abuja Agreement is understandable, given decades of mistrust between them and successive Sudanese governments. Ironically, the efforts of the transnational NGOs, and advocacy activists, the humanitarian arm of the international community, are equally frustrated by bandits and the Sudanese government, which in a sense placing the later in an equal footage. In the following sections, I elucidate the perception gap between the Sudanese government and the new ethos informing the international community intervention in Darfur, with particular reference to the AU/UN hybrid mission and the menacing presence of the ICC. Sudan/Darfur and the International Community of Intergovernmental Relations The idea of deploying a peacekeeping mission to Darfur emerged in 2004, prompted by the intensification of the conflict, the horrifying accounts of systematic killing of civilians, the massive internal displacements, and large number of refugees crossing the Sudanese border into Chad and Central Africa. In September 2004, the Security Council requested that the SecretaryGeneral create a commission of inquiry “to investigate reports of violations of international humanitarian law and human rights law in Darfur by all parties,” including whether or not genocide has been committed, and to increase the number of human rights monitors deployed in Darfur.42 The Report of the International Commission of Inquiry on Darfur to the United Nations Secretary-General (February 2005) has presented evidence of crimes against humanity.43 On its part, the Security Council referred the situation in the Darfur to the prosecutor if the International Criminal Court. The Council decided further that nationals, current or former officials or personnel from a contributing state outside the Sudan which was not a party to the Rome Statute would be subject to the exclusive jurisdiction of that contributing State for all alleged acts or omissions arising out of or related to operations in the Sudan authorized by the Council or the African Union, unless such exclusive jurisdiction had been expressly waived by that contributing state.44 The deployment of a peacekeeping mission in Darfur was considered part of the diplomatic effort to protect civilians in situations of severe human rights violations and crimes against humanity. The United States and Europe (NATO) were preoccupied with Iraq, the Balkans and Afghanistan. At least

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two factors contributed to the choice of the newly founded AU to take the lead in Darfur peacekeeping mission: (1) the “African solutions for African problems” slogan, largely championed by the European Union also echoing non-African failures in Somalia, Rwanda and elsewhere; (2) the emergence of pan-African defense and security structures. In January 2004, African Ministers of defense and security, meeting at the AU headquarters in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, adopted the “Draft Framework for a Common African Defense and Security Policy.” The Ministers reviewed progress made in developing an African standby peacekeeping force and an early warning system to detect and prevent potential conflicts and to ensure rapid humanitarian relief during disasters. In July 2004, the AU Assembly (of heads of states), meeting in Addis Ababa, formally adopted the defense and security policy as Africa’s “blueprint” in the search for peace, security, and stability on the continent. By now, the AU has established a Peace and Security Council (PSC) as an implementation mechanism within a wide-ranging Common Africa Defence and Security Policy (CADSP), which signalled an end to the pan-African non-intervention pact which was the hallmark of the Organization of African Unity (OAU), the predecessor of the AU. In 2006, the international community had become increasingly impatient with the Sudanese government and the gravity of the situation. Acting under Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter, the Security Council authorized UNMIS to use all necessary means as it deemed within its capabilities: to protect United Nations personnel, facilities, installations and equipment; to ensure the security and freedom of movement of United Nations personnel, humanitarian workers, assessment and evaluation commission personnel; to prevent disruption of the implementation of the Darfur Peace Agreement by armed groups, without prejudice to the responsibility of the Government of the Sudan; to protect civilians under threat of physical violence; and to seize or collect arms or related material whose presence in Darfur was in violation of the Agreements and the measures imposed by resolution 1556, and to dispose of such arms and related material as appropriate.45

With all their good intentions, UNAMID success is limited, not because of the inability of the deployed forces to operate, but largely due to the enormity of the task before hand, including: (1) UNAMID is short of peacekeepers and equipment, with only soldiers operating in an area the size of France.46 (2) Darfur liberation movements are marred with divisions along ethnic cleavages, creating at least 12 different factions most of which are offshoots of the two original movements (SLA/SLM and JEM). (3)47 It is not only that these divisions have weakened their resolves and obliterated their efforts to reach a peace agreement agreeable to all of them, but at times they fought


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each other with incidences of fighting within and defection of renegade members of the same liberation movement to establish their own movements or join already existing ones. (4) Sudanese government obstructionist policies particularly after the initial indictment of President Al Bashir and three other Sudanese individuals48 by the ICC have played a major role in thwarting the international community’s efforts in Darfur.49 (5) Until 2005, the Security was divided on whether to refer Sudan to the ICC. For example, China systematically blocked pre-2005 Security Council Resolutions on Sudan. Acting under Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter, the Security Council decided to refer the situation prevailing in Darfur since July 1, 2002 to the Prosecutor of the ICC.50 Despite labelling the situation and sponsored the resolution that created the UN Commission of Inquiry in Darfur, the United States, China, Brazil, and Algeria.51 A joint African Union/UN hybrid force was created, leading to an increase in Darfur observer mission from 3,500 to 7,000 strong troops and police. On July 31, 2007, the Security Council unanimously adopted Resolution 1769, authorizing the deployment of a 26,000-strong United Nations-AU force to Sudan’s western Darfur region. The joint force is to be called the United Nations-AU Mission in Darfur (UNAMID). In Part 15a (ii), the resolution invokes Chapter 7 to authorize UNAMIDs use of force to protect civilians. While Resolution 1769 maintains the sovereignty of the government of Sudan, it also endorses Resolution 1674 on the protection of civilians in armed conflict which reaffirms the provisions of paragraphs 138 and 139 of the 2005 World Summit Outcome Document regarding the responsibility to protect populations from genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity.52 On March 4, 2009, the Pre-Trial Chamber I of the International Criminal Court (ICC) issued a warrant for the arrest of Omar Hassan Ahmad Al Bashir, President of Sudan, for war crimes and crimes against humanity. He is suspected of being criminally responsible, as an indirect (co-)perpetrator, for intentionally directing attacks against an important part of the civilian population of Darfur, Sudan, murdering, exterminating, raping, torturing and forcibly transferring large numbers of civilians, and pillaging their property. This is the first warrant of arrest ever issued for a sitting Head of State by the ICC.53

The arrest warrant against Al Bashir has divided the international community between supporters and opponents. The differences of opinion are not emanating from whether what took place in Darfur comprises crimes against humanity or not, but on whether peace and justice sequencing should be

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given some consideration. In other words, the question is what comes first, peace or justice. The opponents of the timing of the Indictment of President Al Bashir argue that the ICC action will delay peace and harden the resolve of the radical Islamists groups in his government. They also argue that arresting President Al Bashir will cast doubt on the future of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) signed between the South Sudanese government (Sudan People’s Liberation Movement/Army).54 and the Sudanese Government. The others, including a large number of NGOs and human rights advocates and activists believe that, “justice delayed is justice denied” and therefore justice should not be subservient to peace. Others argue that the ICC has so far targeted African leaders or leaders from “weaker states” (e.g., the Balkan). Others claim that they are not signatories to the ICC and will therefore not arrest President Al Bashir should he visit their countries.55 Clearly, the AU and the UN acted on the bases of the “responsibility to protect paradigm,” endorsed by the General Assembly at the 2005 World Summit where it demanded that “each individual State has the responsibility to protect its populations from genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity. This responsibility entails the prevention of such crimes, including their incitement, through appropriate and necessary means. The international community, through the United Nations, also has the responsibility to use appropriate diplomatic, humanitarian and other peaceful means, in accordance with Chapters VI and VIII of the Charter, to help protect populations from genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity.”56 To be sure, the crisis in Darfur has tested to the limits the diplomatic and legal instruments available to the international community. It brought home the consequences of the uneasy relationship between the international community’s concerns with humanitarian intervention under the responsibility to protect, on one hand, and the manner in which states behave in a realist manner to pursue their national interests. The international community comprises diverse actors with diverse and at times contradictory interests, although the moral majority seems to prevail in the face of complex and increasingly intractable national questions such as state building and the right to self-determination project and treated within the confines of expansive global governance structures. Conclusion The crisis in Darfur is propelled by historical injustices expressed in terms of the right to self-determination and the quest for democratic state building. The attainment of such legitimate demands is impossible under the prevailing


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authoritarian political regime in the Sudan which adopted war making as its preferred state-building method of choice. Caught between the noble ethics of the responsibility to protect and the international community of governments’ diverse and at times competing interests, Darfur liberation movements found an indispensable ally in transnational NGOs and civil society activism. Obviously, the responsibility to protect principles are by necessity conflate democratic state building with peaceful pursuance of the right to self-determination, particularly when self-determination is a soft and legitimate as that propagated by Darfur liberation movements. In this respect, only advocates of authoritarianism would argue that democratic state building is in variance with self-determination for oppressed majorities living under authoritarian rule. The responsibility to protect offers oppressed minorities the opportunity to be protected against governments that use war crimes against humanity as their preferred nation-building method. Whether defined as a community of governments bent on behaving according to international legality and its implications for state sovereignty or nongovernmental actors invoking a humanitarian creed that transcends national interests, the problems confronting the international community in Darfur are intractable and comprehensible only within the core values of the emergent democratic governance norms. However, the responsibility to protect can be both a hindrance to peaceful resolution to the conflict or an instrument for democratic state building. The jury is out in both accounts.

Notes 1. Paul Kennedy, Dirk Messner and Franz Nuscheler’s Global Trends and Global Governance (London, Pluto Press, 2001); and Lisa Martin, Global Governance (Madison, University of Wisconsin, Madison, 2008) are most instructive in this respect. 2. Christopher Clapham, African Guerrilla (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1998): 5–6. 3. Alex J. Bellamy, offers one of the most comprehensive introduction and assessment of the Responsibility to Protect, 2008. 4. Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points Speech was delivered in a joint session of Congress and Senate held in January 8, 1918, http://www.historyplace.com/ speeches/wilson-points.htm. 5. Link and others, The Papers of Woodrow Wilson 45 (Princeton University Press, 1984): 536. 6. United Nations General Assembly’s Proclamation of December 14, 1960 Declaration on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples (Resolution 1514 XV).

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7. Article 2.c To defend their sovereignty, their territorial integrity and independence; and 2.d. to eradicate all forms of colonialism from Africa (Charter of the Organization of African Unity, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, 25th day of May, 1963). 8. The new conceptions of self-determination and sovereignty are far from being accepted by all states, particularly not by authoritarian states. It has also generated long-drawn academic debates. 9. Tilly, “War Making and State Making as Organized Crime,” in Bringing the State Back, ed. B. Evans et al. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1985): 181–183. 10. The first civil war between South and North (1955–1972) and the second civil war (1983–) which although began in the South, soon engulfed the East, the Nuba Mountains, Southern Blue Nile, and of course Darfur. 11. Janjaweed is a code name for tribal militias created by Nation Islamic Front to operate in Darfur. They are largely recruited from Baggara nomadic groups who historically (a) harbored animosity against the original populations of Darfur and (b) controlled vast stretches of land for farming and grazing purposes. According to the UN, “Principally, tribal militias such as the Janjaweed are part of the Popular Defence Forces (PDF), a paramilitary force established by the Sudanese government and intended to act on behalf of the state when the Sudan (Mohamed Salih 2005, pp. 11–12.). 12. Refer to Fukuyama, State-Building: A New Agenda (Ithica, NY: Cornell University Press, 2004). 13. United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) 2005. 14. U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) 2005; Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) 2007 and 2008. 15. Overseas Development Administration (ODA), 2007 and 2008. 16. For example, Fukuyama. “The Imperative if State-building,” Journal of Democracy 15, no. 2 (April 2004): 17–31. 17. OECD 2008: 12. 18. African Union/United Nations Hybrid operation in Darfur (UNAMID) is a joint African-Union/United Nations hybrid operation in Darfur authorized by the Security Council Resolution 1769 of July 3, 2007 and formally commenced operations in December 31, 2007. 19. For example, J.J. Welling, “Non-governmental Organizations, Prevention, and Intervention in Internal Conflict: Through the Lens of Darfur,” Indiana Journal of Global Legal Studies 14, no. 1 (Spring 2005, 147–179). 20. For more on the history and development of Darfur Liberation Front (DLF) into Sudan Liberation Army/Movement see Alex de Waal 2005. 21. A full-fledged militarization of Sudanese society began in earnest with the promulgation of the Popular Defence Forces (PDF) Law in 1989. The Law established PDF as paramilitary force whose objectives are to train men and women in civil and military tasks, to raise their level of security consciousness, and instil military discipline so that they can cooperate with the regular armed forces and security services.

Darfur and the International Community 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29.

30.

31. 32.

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Op. Cit. Note 19. Political Declaration of SLA/SLM, March 14, 2003. Press Release/Commentary by SLM/SLA posted on March 14, 2003. The European-Sudanese Public Affairs Council. The Darfur Crisis: Looking Beyond the Propaganda, London, March, 2004, p. 2. Equality Movement (JEM) Peace Proposal for Sudan in General and Darfur of February 8, 2005. Mohamed Salih, “Understanding the Conflict in Darfur,” Occasional Paper, Centre of African Studies, University of Copenhagen, May 2005, pp. 15–16. Charter of the Sudan Federal Democratic Alliance. Advocating democratic manifestos does not mean that the movements are internally democratic or adhere to democratic practices vis-à-vis their support base which should not come as surprise given the nature of the military struggle in which they are engaged. President George W. Bush, in his Address to the UN General Assembly (September 21, 2004) argues that: When we reviewed the evidence compiled by our team, and then put it beside other information available to the State Department and widely known throughout the international community, widely reported upon by the media and by others, we concluded, I concluded, that genocide has been committed in Darfur and that the government of Sudan and the Jingaweit bear responsibility and that genocide may still be occurring. Downloaded August 25, 2009, http://www.whitehouse.gov/newsreleases/2004/ 09/print/2004092l-3.html. Alex de Waal. “Briefing: Darfur, Sudan: Prospects for Peace,” African Affairs 104, no. 414 (Jan 2005): 127–135. The Abuja talks followed on the footsteps of the Ndjamena (Chad) meeting of April 2004. During the negotiations, the Sudanese government refused the AU request to increase its observer mission in Darfur from 300 to 3,500, with a mandate to protect civilians. On their part, the Liberation Movements (JIM and SLA/SLM) demanded the disarmament of the Janaweed and an improved access to humanitarian assistance delivered directly to them and not through the government held territories. Action by Churches Together (ACT) in cooperation with Caritas Internationalis, Action Against Hunger, Adventist Development and Relief Agency (ADRA), Africare, Air Serv International (USA), American Jewish World Service (AJWS) (USA), AmeriCares (USA), American Red Cross, Catholic Agency for Overseas Development (CAFOD, UK), CARE Canada, CARE International (UK), Caritas Internationalis, Catholic Relief Services (CRS), Concern Worldwide, Cruz Roja Espaola (Red Cross (Spain), Disasters Emergency Committee (DEC) (UK), GOAL (Ireland), International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC, Switzerland), International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies (IFRC), International Medical Corps (USA), International Rescue Committee, INTERSOS (Italy), Islamic Relief—UK, Lutheran World Relief, Malteser (Germany), Medair (Switzerland), Médecins Sans Frontires, Mercy Corps, Merlin

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35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40.

41.

42. 43. 44. 45. 46.

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(UK); Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC), Oxfam, Refugees International (USA), Save the Children, Tearfund, United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) (USA) cooperating with Action by Churches Together, UNHCR, World Mission International (WMI), World Vision International. Action Against Hunger, Africare, Air Serv International, American Jewish World Service (AJWS), CARE Canada; CARE International; Caritas Internationalis, Catholic Relief Services (CRS), Church World Service, International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), International Medical Corps, Medair, Médecins Sans Frontières, Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC), Oxfam, Refugees International, Save the Children. For reported attacks on humanitarian agencies and peacekeepers use the search engine of Reliefweb: http://www.reliefweb.int/rw/dbc.nsf/doc100?OpenForm. URL: http://www.savedarfur.org/. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Olesen 2006, “the Institutionalization Solidarity and Globalization” falls within a broad spectrum of scholarship concerned with the emergence of global social movements and civil society activism, for example, Margaret Keck and Kathryn Sikkink, Activists Beyond Borders (Ithica NY: Cornell University Press, 1998); Ann Marie Clark, Elisabeth J. Friedman, and Kathryn Hoechstler, “The Sovereign Limits of Global Civil Society: A Comparison of NGO Participation in UN World Conferences on the Environment, Human Rights, and Women,” World Politics 51, no. 1 (1998): 1–35; Seyla Benhabib, The Rights of Others: Aliens, Residents, and Citizens (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004); Clifford Bob, The Marketing of Rebellion: Insurgents, Media, and International Activism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005); Thomas Olesen, “World Politics and Social Movements: The Janus Face of the Global Democratic Structure,” Global Society 19, no. 2 (2005): 109–129; and Sidney Tarrow, The New Transnational Activism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), among others. See UNAMID’s Commander, General Martin Luther Agwai of Nigeria, statement on Darfur liberation movements which he calls rebels accusing them of not-representing their people. URL: http://sudanwatch.blogspot.com/2009/08/ unamids-agwai-darfur-rebels-have-been.html. Security Council Resolution 1564, U.N. SCOR, 5040th mtg. 12, U.N. Doc. S/RES/1564 (2004). Report of the International Commission of Inquiry on Darfur to the United Nations Secretary General, Geneva, January 25, 2005. Security Council Resolution 1593 (2005) referring the situation prevailing in Darfur the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court. To access Security Council, Resolution 1556 refer to: http://www.un.org/News/ Press/docs/2004/sc8160.doc.htm. As of July 31, UNAMID is operating with 9,991 total personnel: 8,123 military and 1,868 police. Refer to: http://www.betterworldcampaign.org/issues/ peacekeeping/deployment-of-un-led.html#Current_Levels_of_Deployment.


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47. A glimpse of the number of Darfur liberation movements could be seen in relations to the newly created Sudan Liberation Movement/Army SLM/AField Leadership, SLM/A-Unity Leadership, SLM/A-Juba of Mohamed Saleh Harba, SLM/A General Line, United Revolutionary Forces Front (URFF) and SLM/A Khamis Abakar. The United Resistance Front (URF) of Idriss Abu Garda, the SLM/A-Juba of Ahmed Abdel Shafi, and a group of SLM/A Unity Leadership led by Abdalla Yahiya did not sign Tripoli agreement. See Sudan Tribune September 3, 2009, URL: http://www.sudantribune.com/spip.php?article32317. Mohamed Salih, M A Understanding the Conflict in Darfur (Copenhagen, Centre of African Studies, Copenhagen University, 2005). 48. The other three persons indicted by ICC for committing crimes against humanity in Darfur are: Ahmed Mohammed Haroun is currently Sudan Minister of State for Humanitarian Affairs and appointed by the Sudanese government to investigate human rights violations in Darfur. Ali Muhammad Ali Abd-Al-Rahman is a former senior Janjaweed commander supporting the Sudanese government against Darfur rebel groups. Bahr Idriss Abu Garda is the leader of the United Resistance Front, a rebel group fighting against the Sudan government in Darfur and previously the commander of the JEM. 49. Pre-Trial Chamber I also found that the government of Sudan has systematically refused to cooperate with the Court since the issuance of warrants for the arrest of the Sudanese Minister for Humanitarian Affairs, Ahmad Harun, and a regional Janjaweed militia leader, Ali Kushayb, on May 2, 2007. As a result, the Judges emphasised that, according to article 87(7) of the Statute, if the government of Sudan continues to fail to comply with its cooperation obligations to the Court, the competent Chamber “may make a finding to that effect” and decide to “refer the matter [. . .] to the Security Council.” 50. Adopting resolution 1593 (2005) by a vote of 11 in favor, none against with four abstention (Algeria, Brazil, China, United States), the Council decided also that the government of the Sudan and all other parties to the conflict in Darfur would cooperate fully with the Court and Prosecutor, providing them with any necessary assistance. 51. Twelve out of the Security Council’s 15 members support authorizing the International Criminal Court (ICC) to investigate and prosecute crimes in Darfur. US opposition to referring Darfur to the ICC is unrelated to crimes committed in Darfur, Human Rights Watch said. The Bush administration’s ideological opposition to the court, is prompted by fears that politically motivated prosecutions against Americans (Human Rights Watch 2005, p. 195). 52. Security Council Resolution 1769 is available at: http://daccessdds.un.org/doc/ UNDOC/GEN/N07/445/52/PDF/N0744552.pdf?OpenElement. 53. The warrant of arrest for Omar Al Bashir lists seven counts on the basis of his individual criminal responsibility (article 25(3)(a)) including: a) five counts of crimes against humanity: murder – article 7(1)(a); extermination – article 7(1)(b); forcible transfer – article 7(1)(d); torture – article 7(1)(f ); and rape – article 7(1)(g); and b) two counts of war crimes: intentionally directing attacks against a civilian population as such or against individual civilians not taking direct part in hostilities – article 8(2)(e)(i); and pillaging – article 8(2)(e)(v).

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54. http://www.issafrica.org/AF/profiles/Sudan/darfur/compax/index.htm. 55. Since his indictment, President Al Bashir visited Qatar, Ethiopia, Libya and South Africa without being arrested, with these countries claiming that they are not signatories of the ICC Statues. 56. UN General Assembly, 2005 World Summit.

CHAPTER 8

The International Community and Congo’s Recent Crises John F. Clark

Introduction This paper seeks to assess the record of the international community in its response to the war in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) that began in August 1998. Such assessments are always uncertain, and are complicated by the disappointments and biases that permeate the news reports and interim evaluations of the work of international actors. Fair-minded observers may not in the end agree on the quality of the performance of international actors. Thus, the best one can do is to examine the record of various external entities and evaluate them in light of the possibilities that the international environment and the domestic politics of bilateral actors permit. The overall question of this chapter is, “How well has the international community done in its response to the Congo war, all things considered?” An overarching question of this kind naturally raises a host of subsidiary questions that bear on the larger evaluation: Have the actions of the international community reduced conflict or led to better outcomes in Congo? Could the international community reasonably have done more, and sooner? Did the international community actually serve to “enable” the conflict? That is, did the international community actually prolong or deepen the conflict through its actions? Did the presence of the UN mission in eastern Congo actually make the suffering of civilians worse? There is no doubt that the international community might have acted more swiftly and more decisively to events in the Congo war. But the question remains one of whether various international actors might have done better all things considered. This chapter attempts a fair assessment of the question.

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The prima facie evidence suggests that the response of the international community to the “Congo crisis” has been an unequivocal failure. The fighting that began in Congo in 1998 has now been going on without substantial interruption since August 1998, for over 12 years. Of course, the belligerents in the war have changed over the years, and the issues over which they have fought have varied. A mind-numbing array of militia groups, rebel armies, and foreign invaders has contested terrain and resources in eastern Congo over more than a decade. Despite the kaleidoscope of fighting forces and battles that have dominated eastern Congo since 1994, however, one fundamental conflict has endured throughout: the battles for security, dominance, and justice between Hutu and Tutsi (or Banyarwanda and others) in the Congolese areas adjoining Rwanda. The basic rights of the Banyarwanda in Congo have never been assured by the Congolese state or the international community, and the fears and grievances of this group’s two branches have a constant in the fighting in the region. From the (post-1994) Rwandan government perspective, for instance, the fundamental issue of the armed presence of militant Hutu rebels in the region has yet to be fully addressed. The international community is implicated in the failure to deal with the problem of fleeing genocidaires (perpetrators of genocides) in Congo in 1994–1996, as it is in the predations of the Congo war itself.1 Just as the fighting has endured, even as the issues have often changed, the suffering and death of civilians as a result of eastern Congo’s multiple conflicts has continued without end. A 2008 report produced by the International Rescue Committee reckons that there were some 5.4 million “excess deaths” in eastern Congo between August 1998 and April 2007.2 Approximately 2.1 million of these deaths occurred after the “formal end of war” in 2002.3 The recent IRC report hastens to specify, as did its prior reports on Congo, that relatively few of the deaths were caused directly by war. The vast majority were caused by malnutrition, infectious diseases, complications of pregnancy, et cetera. About half of the deaths were suffered by children under five, though this demographic group represents only about 19 percent of the population.4 As discussed below, much of this “excess dying” happened after the dispatch of a sizable and growing United Nations force to the regions of heightened mortality. For purposes of this analysis, the “international community” is divided into two main components: the United Nations Security Council (UNSC) and its Mission de l’Organisation des Nations Unies (United Nations Mission in the Congo) (MONUC) peacekeeping operation, and the world’s “great powers” acting outside of the UN framework. Conveniently, an official framework for collaborative action among the relevant external states and international organizations was brought into being under the terms of the 2002 Sun City

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(South Africa) Peace Agreement, the Comité International d’Accompagnement de la Transition (the International Committee to Accompany the Transition) (CIAT).5 This body was comprised of the five permanent members of the UN Security Council, two other non-African states (Belgium and Canada), five African States (Angola, Gabon, Nigeria, South Africa, and Zambia), and three international organizations (the European Union, the African Union, and the UN, represented by the Secretary-General’s envoy). Thus, the respective records of MONUC and CIAT are most relevant to the efforts of the “international community” in Congo. There is obviously overlap between these two bodies in that the Security Council’s permanent members were a part of both. Together, they represent the interested parts of the international community that had the wherewithal to respond meaningfully to the problem. Of course, a host of NGOs became involved in relief work in eastern Congo, and many of them performed heroically. The efforts of their representatives doubtless saved thousands of lives. But these organizations have played only minor roles in the resolution of the conflicts in eastern Congo that have continued into the 2010s. Finally, for purposes of this analysis, the actions of Rwanda and Uganda are seen primarily as generators of conflict, and not the agents of conflict resolution. In their actions in eastern Congo, these states were rogue members of the international community, seeking to protect and advance “regime security,” rather than resolve conflict.6 The remainder of this chapter is divided into two parts. The first proceeds by identifying some of the major criticisms that have been made of the international community in the DRC conflict, beginning with the MONUC mission. The second part attempts to evaluate these criticisms in light of the challenges faced by MONUC and the international community, and in light of the alternative approaches the world community might have taken to the conflict in Congo. This will permit us to make an overall evaluation of the international community’s response to Congo conflicts. The Record of the MONUC, the UN, and the World’s Great Powers One major criticism leveled at the international community in its reaction to the war in the Congo is that it reacted far too slowly and inadequately to what was a clearly a major world event involving the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people, even in the early months of the initial war. At the time of the outbreak of the war in August 1998, the Rwanda genocide of 1994 was then fresh in the minds of the diplomatic world community. After the genocide there had of course been the war of 1996–1997 that drove

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Mobutu from power. In this war, the AFDL and (especially) its Rwandan backer had hunted down and killed thousands of Hutu refugees who had refused to return to Rwanda following their exile in 1994. Some of this number, of course, was implicated in the 1994 genocide, but most those captured were summarily executed rather than being returned home for trial. Accordingly, there was ample reason to believe from the beginning that the Congo war could be a bloody affair involving many deaths of unarmed civilians or demobilized security personnel. Yet the international community was slow to act with either a forceful diplomatic or peacekeeping effort, as discussed in the following sections. The Slow Evolution of MONUC With regard to MONUC, critics such as Hawkins have referred to the “painfully slow and token deployment of peace-keepers” to the conflict zone.7 Indeed, the authorization of United Nations forces to the Congo did unfold very slowly (see table 8.1). It was only after nearly a year, in August 1999, that the UNSC authorized the dispatch of the first military observers to the conflict zone. In November 1999, the UNSC passed another resolution formally establishing MONUC. The following February, it authorized a specific number of military personnel for the mission, 5537, not including civilian personnel and staff. This limited was raised in December 2002, coinciding with a major new peace agreement among the Congolese belligerents, and again in July 2003 following the Ituri crisis of that year. In October

Table 8.1

Authorization of military and police personnel to MONUC

Date of resolution

Additional personnel authorized

Total authorized strength∗

August 6, 1999 February 24, 2000 December 4, 2002 July 28, 2003 October 1, 2004 September 6, 2005 October 28, 2005 April 10, 2006 December 22, 2006 November 20, 2008 December 22, 2008

90 military “liaison personnel” Initial limits established New total limit set New total limit set 5,900 military personnel 841 police personnel 300 military personnel “1 battalion,” 50 observers Specifies 916 for 10/4/06 resolution 2,785 military and 300 police New total limit specified

90 5,537 8,700 10,800 16,700 (presumed) 17,541 (presumed) 17,841 (presumed) 18,757 (presumed) 18,757 (presumed) 21,842 (presumed) 22,016

Compiled from the MONUC website at http://monuc.unmissions.org/ ∗ Includes military personnel, military observers, and police, but not civilian personnel.


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2004, following a humiliation of UN forces in Bukavu (South Kivu) by the rebel forces of General Laurent Nkunda (previously affiliated with the Rassemblement Congolais pour le Démocratie-Goma (RCD), or Congolese Rally for Democracy-Goma) in June, UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan called for another increase in troop numbers, and another 5900 were authorized. In 2006, as the epic elections in July of that year approached, another small increase was approved. The increase of 2008 was again stimulated by attacks by Nkunda, this time threatening Goma in North Kivu, in which MONUC forces again proved ineffective in protecting civilians from attack. Even though MONUC now represented the largest peacekeeping force in the world as of 2010, its small size in comparison to the job that needed to be done and the area to be supervised is obvious. MONUC was inadequate to its task, as well as slow to be deployed. Other analysts criticized the international community not only for moving slowly, but also for providing too few personnel and resources to the UN mission. According to Turner: “The UN has been as much a part of the problem in the Great Lakes region as it has been a leader in solving that problem or set of problems. The resources made available probably have been insufficient and the mandate has been ill adapted to the situation. The deficiencies of the organization itself, increasingly visible since the Rwanda catastrophe of 1994, have played a part.”8 And, in the same vein, Adebajo argues that “The UN Security Council clearly has not learned the lessons of Rwanda and has failed to provide the resources requested by [then UN Secretary-General Kofi] Annan to help sustain efforts to end a seven-year war that has claimed an estimated 2.5 million lives, internally displaced 3.4 million people, involved seven foreign armies, and spanned three of Africa’s sub-regions.”9 Many other UN missions are in small countries such as Cyprus, Kosovo, or Sierra Leone. Famously, Congo-Kinshasa is roughly the size of the United States east of the Mississippi River. The conflict zone at the time of deployment covered roughly half of the country. Even the three main provinces of intense conflict after 2003, South Kivu, North Kivu, and Ituri, are much larger than the states mentioned above. (Sierra Leone is approximately the same size of each of the Congolese provinces in question.) Yet the UN peacekeeping force in Sierra Leone in 2002 was over 18,000 personnel, roughly the size of that in the Congo through 2008. Nor has MONUC’s mission been confined to the main zones of conflict in the east: it also had to help maintain order in Kinshasa, particularly following the 2006 elections, and in other regions of the country. The number of persons and problems with which MONUC has had to grapple was also enormous. Sierra Leone has a population of less than 6 million, whereas the DRC has a population some ten times greater. Tens of thousands of foreign troops also occupied

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parts of Congo between 1998 and 2003, and foreign forces have continued to intervene since then. In short, Congo is a vast space in which complex and multifaceted problems have appeared. Even at its peak, the MONUC mission is surely inadequate to deal with these problems, and it has taken MONUC over a decade to reach its maximum strength. Nor do the figures in table 8.1 even tell the full story of MONUC’s small size and slow installation in the DRC, for there have typically been long delays between the authorization of forces to MONUC and their actual deployment. This was particularly the case in the beginning. For instance, by November 2000, nine months after the first substantial authorization of forces was made, only about 10 percent of this number had been deployed.10 Most of these were unarmed observers and civilians, rather than the armed forces that might have protected civilians. In subsequent instances, as well, MONUC’s command was generally slow to field the forces that the UNSC had authorized. By April 2003, only 4,700 troops were on the ground, though 8,700 were at that point authorized.11 Due to its small size and slow deployment, MONUC had no real possibility of fulfilling key parts of its mandate. Since MONUC was organized under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, however, it was authorized from the beginning to use force not only to protect itself, but also to fulfill other parts of its mandate. Among these were “to facilitate humanitarian assistance and human rights monitoring, with particular attention to vulnerable groups including women, children and demobilized child soldiers, as MONUC deems within its capabilities and under acceptable security conditions, in close cooperation with other United Nations agencies, related organizations and non-governmental organizations.” Further, the same resolution decided “that MONUC may take the necessary action, in the areas of deployment of its infantry battalions and as it deems it within its capabilities, to protect United Nations and co-located JMC [Joint Military Committee] personnel, facilities, installations and equipment, ensure the security and freedom of movement of its personnel, and protect civilians under imminent threat of physical violence” (UNSC Resolution 1291).12 Nonetheless, MONUC military officials have thought that the mandate was weak and lacking in specificity. In these missions, MONUC has almost consistently failed to live up to its mandate. It has not made any of the three main provinces of conflict safe enough for either human rights monitoring or the delivery of humanitarian assistance. Millions have died as a result of being displaced from their homes without adequate clean water, food, and medicine. Nor was MONUC typically able to prevent the direct assault of civilians by rebel forces, even when it had some forces in the area of the attacks. An early example was the massacre of some 160 civilians in Kisangani in May 2002, just a few kilometers


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from a camp of about 1,000 MONUC soldiers.13 Again, in Nkunda’s advance against Bukavu in 2004, MONUC declined to use force to protect civilians who were caught in the middle, leading to many deaths. This occurred despite the fact that “MONUC had 800 troops around Bukavu, with several attack helicopters at its disposal and a fleet of armored vehicles.”14 In this case, there were disputes among Deputy Force commander, Jan Isberg, his superiors in the Department of Peace-Keeping Operations (DPKO) in New York, and his subordinates in the field about why the UN failed to fulfill its mission. Wherever the blame lay, the situation reflects a lack of resolve and mission focus on the part of the leaders of the MONUC mission. And these two incidents could be multiplied many times over in the decade of MONUC’s deployment to Congo. The presence of armed rebel groups in eastern Congo stemmed from an antecedent failure of MONUC, that to disarm these groups by whatever means necessary.15 UNSCR 1291 of February 2000 had authorized MONUC to undertake “the comprehensive disarmament, demobilization, resettlement and reintegration of all members of all armed groups referred to in Annex A, Chapter 9.1 of the Ceasefire Agreement, and the orderly withdrawal of all foreign forces.” These included the two main rebel groups then in eastern Congo, the RCD, backed by Rwanda, and the Mouvement pour la Libération du Congo (MLC, Movement for the Liberation of Congo), backed by Uganda. Subsequent resolutions over the ensuing years authorized MONUC to undertake the disarmament of other groups that sprang up, and to compel them to participate in “Disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration” programs established by the UN. Yet MONUC commanders have never thought that they had either sufficient forces or strong enough backing from their superiors at UN headquarters to actually undertake these tasks. Meanwhile, the armed groups in question have preyed upon the civilian population, and occasionally clashed with one another in armed combat. Yet another unfilled mandate of MONUC has been to disarm and expel foreign fighters from Congo. The language authorizing MONUC to engage foreign forces has been decidedly less robust, but its mandate referred to facilitating an “orderly” withdrawal of foreign forces from the beginning. This mandate was strengthened after Uganda and Rwanda agreed to withdraw and actually began withdrawing their forces. But these withdrawals were not clearly motivated by MONUC’s or the UN’s resolve to force them out. One episode that highlighted the relative impotence of MONUC was the dispatch of a French-manned peacekeeping force to Ituri region in 2003. The crisis in Ituri was stimulated chiefly by the overdue withdrawal of Ugandan occupying forces from the region, including its capital of Bunia, in early May 2003. During the years of Ugandan occupation, going back to

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1998, two militia groups claiming to represent the Hema and Lendu peoples, respectively, had battled for control of the region. Once the Ugandan forces had withdrawn, the two militias each tried to take control of Bunia. Hundreds of civilians were caught between the warring groups, and the militias actively victimized civilians belonging to the ethnic group represented by their antagonist. This situation produced a visible humanitarian crisis that the international community was—for once—not willing to tolerate. Yet MONUC was unable to take action to secure Bunia and the civilian population in the area, though it had 800 Uruguayan troops deployed in the area. As a result, the Security Council authorized “Operation Artemis” to assert United Nations control in the area. The operation was nominally one of the new European Union rapid reaction force, but was in fact a French force of some 1,800 troops, assisted by a handful of special forces and civilians provided by other European states. Officially, the force was named the “Interim Emergency Multinational Force” (IEMF). The IEMF was a signal success, establishing full control over Bunia in a matter of days after its deployment on June 6, 2003. Soon after its deployment, IEMF forces were engaging militarily with militia groups, enforcing its ban on the open display of any weapons.16 The militia groups soon ceased their attacks on each other, civilians, and multinational peacekeeping forces in the area. By early September, MONUC was able to deploy a larger, more robust force to the area, and the IEMF ended its mission more or less on schedule. The IEMF had operated with the equipment, resolve, and focus that many outside observer wish might have characterized the larger MONUC operation. In some ways, the MONUC mission seemed almost an “enabler” of the conflict in eastern Congo. Forty years earlier, the Organisation des Nations Unis au Congo (United Nations Mission in the Congo) (ONUC, 1960–1964) mission to Congo had operated in a similar way, occupying some key areas of the country, but without taking sides in the conflict, or disarming rebel groups that constantly threatened the peace.17 During the first UN mission to Congo, the ONUC only became effective in resolving the conflict after it took the side of the Congolese government, and helped it to suppress the Katanga secession. By allowing some limited relief activity in eastern Congo, MONUC allowed the international community—or parts of it—to believe that it had done its best to fulfill its duty in the Congo. Thus, the MONUC mission served unintentionally to enable the various warlords, Congolese government politicians, and foreigner interveners to serve their private interests in many parts of Congo. Meanwhile, its presence did not resolve any of the outstanding conflicts, disarm any of the warring militia groups, or even allow any competent political authority to establish order in the regions.


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Finally, strongly symbolizing the ineffective role of MONUC in protecting civilians in Congo, elements of the organization have committed serious abuses against the population. Among the most notorious instances were those of sexual abuses of underaged children in Congo.18 Apparently some MONUC personnel were involved in prostitution rings and other forms of sexual exploitation of women. More recently, there have been allegations of gold-trafficking and arms trading by UN personnel in Eastern Congo. In percentage terms, the percentage of murder, sexual abuse, and theft of Congolese resources carried out by those acting in an official MONUC capacity was small. Yet such abuses symbolize the corruption and ineffectiveness that have undermined MONUC’s activities in Congo. International Efforts aside from MONUC If the UN’s recent mission to Congo has had obvious shortcomings, what can one say about the individual states that created and financed it? After all, the leaders of the UN have limited autonomy to undertake their own initiatives, and they usually only succeed with the sustained and firm support of the permanent members (at least) of the UN Security Council (UNSC). Put otherwise, does the failure of the MONUC mission simply reflect a lack of will on the part of the world’s “great powers?” To a large extent, the answer to this question must be “yes.” Had the permanent members of the UNSC been interested in creating a more robust peacemaking mission in Congo, they surely could have done so. As the analysis in the next section suggests, however, this would not have been quite as easy as one may imagine. Meanwhile, the managers of and military commanders within MONUC itself did not push nearly as far as they might have. In the case of the 1960–1964 ONUC mission to Congo, it took a determined individual working for the UN to make the difference. Conor Cruise O’Brien, working as the Special Representative of the Secretary-General (SRSG), insisted that the ONUC military forces reenter Katanga and reintegrate that secessionist region back into Congo.19 Although he was forced to resign as a result of his action, O’Brien forced the UN to live up to its mandate in 1962. William Lacy Swing, Kofi Annan’s SRSG in Congo, took a comparatively more cautious approach, though he did serve with distinction. In short, neither Swing nor various MONUC military commanders ever took the kinds of bold (and possibly risky) actions that might have forced the permanent members to provide more unequivocal support to MONUC. Finally with regard to the military effort, one should note that some of the external powers were more willing to become involved than others. France

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demonstrated its willingness to take the lead and commit its own military forces in Opération Artemis (Operation Artemis). France continues to take an interest in maintaining its alliances in francophone Africa, as well as the idea of itself as a great power.20 By contrast, the United States showed comparatively little willingness to engage with Congo’s crises. The post-Lewinsky White House of Bill Clinton never got focused on Congo’s crises, despite the strong efforts of Assistant Secretary of State Susan Rice, which did yield the first UN resolutions on Congo. Under President George W. Bush, the United States was still figuring out its main foreign policy priorities when the process was interrupted by the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. Thereafter, the Bush administration was not inclined to expend major resources to end fighting in Congo. If the relevant external powers were not willing to back a robust UN mission, they did nonetheless make substantive diplomatic efforts to bring Congo’s wars to an end. They clearly hoped that a political settlement would lead to the withdrawal of foreign forces and a gradual return to peace on the ground. Three Western countries, Belgium, France, and the United States, had a particular historical and political stake in Congo, owing to these countries’ well known colonial and postcolonial ties there.21 These efforts were mostly halting and disorganized during the reign of the Laurent Kabila, with whom Western countries had difficulty working. According to one insightful analyst, however, these powers did play a major diplomatic role beginning in 2001: The convergence of interests among Belgium, France, and the United States in promoting peace building in the Great Lakes region, especially in the aftermath of [Joseph] Kabila’s assumption of power in January 2001, contributed to an international dynamic conducive to unlocking the diplomatic stalemate in the Lusaka process that existed from 1999–2001. Especially with Belgium willing to take the lead, there emerged an international leadership coalition that, among other actions, put pressure on foreign actors to withdraw their military forces from Congo and on domestic Congolese actions to reach an internal political settlement as part of the Inter-Congolese Dialogue.22

Aside from pushing the relevant parties to negotiate a peace settlement for the conflicts that afflicted Congo as of 2001, the main Western actors also provided the funding for the 300-delegate conference taking place in South Africa.23 Schraeder identified the Belgian foreign minister, Louis Michel, as the key animator of the Western efforts in Congo at that time; he identified EU special envoy (to the Great Lakes region) Aldo Ajello as the key diplomat on the ground who kept the process moving forward.24 South African


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President Thabo Mbeki was the key African mediator, and his country hosted talks that led to a resolution of second Congo civil war in 2002.25 The efforts of these Western countries and South Africa finally bore fruit in the form of the Sun City Peace agreement of April 2002. Although limited to providing for the principles of a unity government to oversee future national elections, this agreement proved to be the framework for a series of more substantial accords signed throughout the remainder of 2002, all negotiated through South African auspices with Western support. The first two steps were bilateral accords between the DRC and Rwanda (in July) and the DRC and Uganda (in September) providing for the withdrawal of the respective foreign armies. Finally, on December 17, 2002 in Pretoria, the parties to the inter-Congolese dialogue signed a “global and all-inclusive agreement” on the transition in the DRC.26 This agreement provided for the integration of a national Congolese army, the interim “1 + 4” power-sharing agreement among Kabila and four vice presidents (two coming from the RCD and MLC, respectively), and eventual national elections. All parties rightly feared that the agreement might fall apart within the continuing supervision and periodic intervention of the same actors who had negotiated the agreement. Accordingly, one key provision of the December 2002 agreement was the stipulation that there would be an international follow-up committee to oversee the implementation of the accord. The group that emerged to fulfill this mission was the International Committee to Accompany the Transition in Congo (CIAT), referenced above.27 This body was rather larger than the core group that oversaw the Inter-Congolese dialogue, and it included the representatives of international organizations, as well as individual states. CIAT proved absolutely critical in many different aspects of the transitional process in Congo. First, with some members playing a lead role, CIAT made sure that the international community remained more or less united, and spoke with one voice. Second, it “supported and pushed” the local actors to maintain their pledges, resolve a succession of emerging conflicts, and stay on course for the elections.28 There were two areas for likely competition among sets of international actors might have exacerbated conflicts in eastern Congo during this time. One source of possible competition was the lingering tensions between France and its (largely imagined) “AngloSaxon” rivals in the Great Lakes Region. These tensions had led to real policy differences both in the events leading up to the Rwandan genocide of 1994 and in the first Congo civil war of 1996–1997. At these critical junctures, France supported first Rwanda’s Juvenal Habyarimana, and then Zaire’s Mobutu Sese Seko, virtually to the bitter end against perceived invading “allies” of the United States and Britain. These tensions might easily

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have spoiled international cooperation again in the crucial post-2002 period. Another possible source of international conflict might have been stimulated by competition among Chinese, Western, and South African business enterprises trying to secure access to Congolese minerals. Although there was such competition, the CIAT helped ensure that it did not lead to (excessive) political competition for influence with various actors in the Congolese drama.29 CIAT’s challenges in keeping the local actors on track were even more considerable. There was a real likelihood that the agreements of 2002 might have been stillborn, with no implementation at all. The opposition vice presidents selected for inclusion in the “1 + 4” transitional government were initially afraid to even come to Kinshasa to take up their posts. As a result, the issue of the size and disposition of their respective bodyguards was an early hurdle to be crossed. The integration of the various militias into the new Congolese armed forces (a process that has yet to be achieved) was equally fraught. CIAT was critical in both of these projects, and many others related to the launch of the transition process.30 In a second phase of the transition, once the transitional government was in place, the peace process faced constant crises during 2004 as fighting continued in eastern Congo, the Banyamulenge and other civilian communities suffered abuse, and the erstwhile foreign invaders threatened to reenter Congolese territory. The series of crisis would surely have derailed the peace process were it not for the constant interventions of CIAT. Likewise, in the phase leading up to the elections of 2006, CIAT was again crucial in keeping the stunningly complex tasks of preelectoral organization on track.31 According to a preliminary evaluation of the CIAT’s work,32 “It is fair to say that CIAT played an extremely important role in the transition, and it can even be argued that CIAT saved the transition. Without CIAT, the elections—a fundamental moment in the transition— would not have been implemented so quickly, and a relapse into full-scale conflict could have easily occurred.”33 Even after the CIAT was disbanded at the end of 2006, its core members, including the United States, Britain, France, Belgium, and South Africa, continued to coordinate their common efforts to stop the fighting that continued between the forces of Kabila and Bemba into 2007. The record of international diplomacy as represented by CIAT, then, appears to contrast strongly with the record of MONUC’s record of peacekeeping, peacemaking, and humanitarian assistance in Congo’s crises. The international community was not generally willing or able to use force to protect civilians or end the fighting in eastern Congo, despite the (slow) deployment of a progressively larger international force. On the other hand, its diplomatic efforts were relatively well coordinated, vigorous, and successful


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in their intermediate goals, if not in the ultimate goal of restoring broad peace and security to Congo. The final section, below, attempts an “all things considered” evaluation of the record of the international community in the strife-torn country. An Evaluation of the International Community’s Record in the Congo Crises Let us begin our analysis by considering how representatives of leading states and international institutions might respond to some of the criticisms leveled against the international community. As we proceed, we may consider not only the overall performance of the international community, but the culpability of individual actors in delaying international actions, or their helpfulness in promoting it. Finally, to make an honest evaluation of the international effort, one must consider what alternatives to the MONUC mission might have been available. One key criticism was the slow reaction to global actors in response to the onset of Congo successive crises. Going back to 1996, there was a broad consensus among both African actors and Western powers (except France) that it was time for Mobutu Sese Seko to relinquish power, by force if necessary. Thus, the Rwandan and Ugandan intervention in Congo in support of the first Congolese civil war had the tacit approval of most of the international community. But the international community did not dictate the leadership of the AFDL (Alliance of Democratic Forces for the Liberation), and most would have members would have opposed the installation of Laurent Kabila in power. Bearing Mobutu’s (lamentable) record on human rights, state building, and development, the international community acted reasonably in not trying artificially to sustain his regime in power. Indeed, Belgium, France, and the United States bear the primary guilt for having kept him in power for so long. What might be easily forgotten is that, once Laurent Kabila was installed, there was relatively little the international community could have done about the second Congo civil war until after his passing from the scene. A direct international intervention against Kabila père (father) was out of the question, especially given that Angola, Namibia, and Zimbabwe came to his assistance, and that the African consensus about Congo was by then broken. One should recall that Laurent Kabila refused cooperation with the United Nations, especially over the inquiry into the deaths of Rwandan exiles in the 1996–1997 war. Perhaps this attitude can be blamed on the apparent support Kabila was then receiving from the United States, as Dunn suggests.34 Once Kabila’s manifest limits were recognized, however, most of his former allies turned

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against him. Once the second war began, Kabila continued his resistance to international efforts to resolve the conflict, and he specifically interfered with the deployment of MONUC observers to the east of the country, delaying their progress by many months. Accounting for this behavior, Prunier observed that, “Kabila was locked up in a black-and-white world where the ‘UN-U.S.’ represented the epitome of evil. He believed in his own propaganda. His capacity to maneuver did not extend to the succubus in human guise he felt the ‘international community’ to be.”35 Following Laurent Kabila’s assassination in January 2001, it took several months for Joseph Kabila to provide adequately for his own security and to consolidate his regime. Meanwhile, the international community had to assess whether he might prove more competent than his inept father had been. During this initial period, it would have been difficult for MONUC to begin its long overdue deployment into the east. Once Joseph Kabila was established in power, the MONUC deployment gathered pace reasonably quickly. With regard to the criticism of the relatively small size of MONUC in comparison to the challenges it faced, there is no reasonable rebuttal. The UN would certainly have been willing to deploy a larger force had one been available. Nor is there evidence that the contributing countries were not willing to provide more troops, had they been asked.36 Rather, the main constraint was lack of funding available from the main contributors to the UN. Even if MONUC is the largest UN peacekeeping force in history, a force double the size of the current one in Congo would not be unreasonable, given the scope of Congo’s many challenges. The only international actors capable of supporting such a force were the United States, Britain, France, and the EU acting as a corporate body. It is true that, had they done so, they might well have faced charges of seeking to “re-colonize” through the agency of the UN. Likewise, they may have been reluctant to contribute troops from their own armies for the same reason. The George W. Bush administration bears a significant portion of the blame for the failure of the international community to act in the second Congo war. Bush came to power in January 2001, the same month in which Laurent Kabila was assassinated,37 but the President had already made his lack of interest in Africa clear. The administration’s preference was to rely on key African states to take the lead in African crises;38 the fact that the Bush administration acquiesced in South Africa taking the lead in the InterCongolese Dialogue suggests that it followed that approach. Even before the terror attacks of September 2001, the Bush administration was obsessed with Iraq, and it ultimately decided to focus its diplomatic and military efforts on that country. At the same time, China missed an opportunity to play a


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leading role in an international crisis in which it did not have immediate interests. If China is to be seen in the future as a positive force in resolving international disputes, rather than merely advancing its own interests, it will in the future have to take a more visible role in conflicts like those in Congo. Meanwhile, other major actors all contributed more to the international effort to assist Congo. As noted above, Belgium was willing to play an outsized role in trying to resolve Congo’s crises. Likewise, France was more willing than any other bilateral player to put its on forces at risk to help resolve one particular crisis in Congo. For once, even the EU played a significant role, represented by the experienced and capable Aldo Ajello, veteran of the successful effort to bring peace to Mozambique. Most significant of all, Thabo Mbeki and his diplomatic team perhaps deserve the most praise for the success of the Inter-Congolese Dialogue in reaching an overarching political settlement and negotiating the withdrawal of foreign forces. On the failure of MONUC to use the force it had at its disposal to protect civilians in eastern Congo, the blame goes both to the UN leadership itself and to permanent members of the UNSC. Neither relished the idea of MONUC playing a robust military role, despite the mandates in the resolutions that authorized the force. Actually, though, MONUC’s record on this score was more mixed than is remembered, in that some contingents did sometimes use force. For instance (Dutch) MONUC commander, Major General Patrick Cammaert, did order his troops to respond robustly to civilian casualties in Ituri in March 2005.39 At this time, the MONUC commander was willing to use meaningful force because Rwanda was not involved, or likely to intervene, and because the action did not threaten the coalition government. When MONUC’s commanders acted forcefully, however, they were not generally backed by their superiors in New York. As this analysis suggests, MONUC operated within the political constraints represented by the ineffective, unstable Congolese coalition government up through 2006. In the 2005 incident, moreover, UN forces were criticized for killing some 60 militia forces. In a sense, then, MONUC was damned whatever it did. The fecklessness of the entire international community thus played a role in MONUC’s limited operations as well: some members of the international community called for more robust action, but were unwilling to recognize that this would mean vigorous military action, and unintended civilian casualties, in the process. Although MONUC had a Title VI mandate, most Western countries were not willing to see the disarmament and civilian protection functions robustly pursued. Yet another limitation for MONUC was that it lacked an intelligence gathering capacity, mainly the fault of its cold-footed Western backers. On the whole, MONUC’s failures related much more to the external support that it received

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(or failed to receive) than to the failures of its commanders and troops to fulfill their mission.40 Finally, how can one fairly evaluate CIAT and the international diplomatic effort in Congo? On the one hand, international actors did press the local stakeholders in Congo into a settlement, and then cajoled them into honoring that settlement through the (relatively free and fair) elections of 2006. On the other hand, the transition and elections brought neither political reconciliation nor peace to Congo. Militia fighting and the constant victimization of civilians continue to plague eastern Congo, while Jean-Pierre Bemba was forced to flee the country (before being arrested and taken to the Hague for a war crimes trial). In response, one must acknowledge that the unity and good will of the international community was genuine in the Congo settlement, and most of the failures lie with the Congolese themselves, as well as Rwanda. As de Goede and van der Borgh argue, “The limited results in terms of trust building and cooperation should however not be seen as a failure of CIAT or of the transition as such. It is fair to say that CIAT did what it was able to do.”41 As for Rwanda’s continual meddling in eastern Congo, these actions no longer have international sanction in virtually any quarter. The notion that many members of the international community did try to act responsibly (if modestly) in Congo, is reinforced by a consideration of the limited alternatives that were available to them. The international community might have done even less than it did about Congo, and in that case, the results might have been even worse than they have been. If MONUC has sometimes been an “enabler” of conflicts in Congo, one can imagine even worse outsides. Left to their own devices, and with no restraints on their behavior whatsoever, the militias would have stolen more goods and assaulted or killed even more civilians. There have been many instances of ethnic killing in eastern Congo, to be sure. Yet no group was able to organize or carry out a full-scale genocide in the area in the presence of UN forces, unlike in Rwanda (where, admittedly, the circumstances were quite different). Another alternative to MONUC would have been an AU force for Congo, like those that have been organized in Sudan and in Somalia, respectively. Sadly, though, the record of such forces has been even more lamentable than those of MONUC or other UN forces. An AU force would have been at least equally prone to abuses, and would have had less transportation and equipment. Indeed, such a force could not have functioned at all without the fulsome support of the UN or other international actors. The alternative that one can most easily imagine is that of a larger, better armed, and better supported UN force for Congo. Such a force might have been deployed into the country much sooner than was actually the case. Yet this alternative would hardly have been without risks or limits. Ultimately


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such a force could only have been effective were it to have fully taken the side of the Congolese government in establishing the state’s control over its own territory, and in expelling the (uninvited) foreign invaders. Under the Laurent Kabila regime, this is virtually unthinkable, in that this ruler was far too distrustful to allow such a force on the country’s territories. Nor would the international community have been wise to provide its fulsome support to such a ruler. Even after the rise of Joseph Kabila, the international community could hardly lend its unequivocal support until after Congo had a legitimate ruler, one sanctioned by national elections. This was of course only achieved in 2006. Moreover, the disgraceful behavior of Congo’s army, the Forces Armeés de la République Démocratique du Congo (FARDC, Armed Forces of the DRC), would have made unqualified alliance with the Congolese government unseemly at best. The FARDC is as guilty as the militia groups and foreign invaders in its predatory behavior toward civilians. If, on the contrary, a more robust UN force did not embrace full-scale cooperation with the Congolese government, it would soon have found itself dictating to that government how security would be organized in the country. This was sometimes the case even for MONUC. A UN force that actually imposed peace on Congo would have represented a virtual re-colonization of the country. This would have been as unacceptable to the Congolese themselves as it would have been to many non-African actors. Nor would the West have been willing to bear the costs of such an operation, in any case. In conclusion, the international community certainly gave a very low priority to Congo in portion to the stakes and complexity of the conflicts there. Millions of human lives might have been saved by a more vigorous international reaction. It is completely unthinkable that millions of European lives could have been lost in a contemporary civil war without a more meaningful international response. On the other hand, the international diplomatic community was not oblivious to the conflict in Congo as many outside observers have believed. Some leading powers and international actors did make a good faith effort to resolve the political stalemate in Congo, honestly believing that this would likely lead to an eventual end to conflict in eastern Congo. While these diplomatic efforts unfolded, MONUC did play a small role in mitigating some of the most egregious aspects of predation in eastern Congo, especially after 2005. A larger, better-supported mission might have done much more in this regard, even if there were limits to such strategies, as the analysis above suggests. It is too bad for some of the countless Congolese who have suffered assault, deprivation, and death that the leading international actors did not test those limits further. Despite the bravery of some international diplomats and UN military personnel in Congo, the weak response of the international community to the crises in Congo belies the liberal hope

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that international institutions and norms have evolved to the point that mass death in civil-international conflicts can now be averted. Notes 1. Although the linkages between the Rwandan genocide of 1994 and the 1996– 1997 civil war in Congo, respectively, and the more recent war in Congo are beyond question, this paper does not treat the issue of these connections beyond the statement here. The issue of these linkages could only be adequately treated in a separate paper. 2. International Rescue Committee [IRC], “Mortality in the Democratic Republic of the Congo: An On-Going Crisis” (2008). http://www.theirc.org/specialreport/congo-forgotten-crisis.html. 3. Ibid. 4. Ibid. 5. It was actually the follow-on “global and all-inclusive” Agreement signed later in 2002 that provided for an organization like the CIAT, though the Sun City Agreement is the usual point of reference because it was the “break-through” agreement in the Inter-Congolese Dialogue. 6. On the concept of “regime security,” see John F. Clark, “Foreign Policy Making in Central Africa: The Imperative of Regime Security in a New Context” in African Foreign Policy: Power and Process, ed. Gilbert Khadiagala and Terrence Lyons (Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2001), 67–86 (2001). 7. Virgil Hawkins, “History Repeating Itself: The DRC and the UN Security Council,” Review of African Security 12, no. 4 (2003): 48. 8. Thomas Turner, The Congo Wars: Conflict, Myth & Reality (London: Zed, 2007), 146–147. 9. Adekeye Adebajo, “The United Nations,” in Security Dynamics in Africa’s Great Lakes Region, ed. Gilbert M. Khadiagala (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 2006), 155. 10. Gérard Prunier, Africa’s World War: Congo, the Rwandan Genocide, and the Making of a Continental Catastrophe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 249. 11. United Nations Peacekeeping Best Practices Unit (UNPBPU) “Operation Artemis: The Lessons of the Interim Emergency Multinational Force” (2004), 6. http://pbpu.unlb.org/PBPS/Pages/PUBLIC/ViewDocument.aspx?docid=572& menukey=_5_2_4. 12. This Resolution and others pertaining to MONUC can be found on the organization’s website at http://monuc.unmissions.org/. 13. International Crisis Group (ICG), “The Congo’s Transition is Failing: Crisis in the Kivus,” Africa Report no. 91 (2005), 24. 14. Ibid. 15. It is worth noting that MONUC got precious little support from its putative backers to carry out this mission. 16. UNBPU, “Operation Artemis,” 21.


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17. John Clark, “Collective Interventions After the Cold War: Lessons from the UN Mission to the Congo, 1960–1964,” Journal of Political Science 12 (1994): 93–115. 18. For example, Jane Rasmussen, “MONUC: Sexual Exploitation and Abuse End of Assignment Report” (2005). 19. See Connor Cruise O’Brien, To Katanga and Back: A UN Case History (New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1962). 20. One might add that Africa is the primary setting in which France can pretend to exercise its pretensions to such a status. 21. In keeping with its pragmatic and business-like foreign policy, China show relatively little interest in Congo, despite its emerging commercial interests there. China has made a modest contribution to the MONUC’s military forces. 22. Peter J. Schraeder, “Belgium, France, and the United States,” in Security Dynamics in Africa’s Great Lakes Region, ed. Gilbert M. Khadiagala (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2006), 177. 23. Ibid. 24. Schraeder, “Begium,” 178. 25. Chris Landsberg, “The Impossible Neutrality? South Africa’s Policy in the Congo War,” in The African Stakes of the Congo War, ed. John F. Clark (New York: Palgrave, 2002); Chris Landsberg, “South Africa,” in Security Dynamics in Africa’s Great Lakes Region, ed. Gilbert M. Khadiagala (Boulder, CO, Lynne Rienner, 2006). 26. Among other places, a concise chronology of these diplomatic may be found in Landsberg (2006: 130–131); Landsberg translates title of the agreement as the “global and comprehensive agreement,” but the translation used in the text here is more widely used. 27. The CIAT, or Comité International d’Accompagnement à la Transition, was also called the Comité International d’Appui à la Transition (the International Committee in Support of the Transition) in some documents, including in some official UN documents. 28. Meike de Goede and Chris van der Borgh, “A Role for Diplomats in Postwar Transitions? The Case of the International Committee in Support of the Transition in the Democratic Republic of the Congo,” African Security 1, no. 2 (2008): 121. 29. Contrary to popular belief, most business enterprises preferred a stable Congolese state (and business environment) in which to conduct their business, though some did also take advantage of the chaos in eastern Congo to extract resources with a minimum of oversight or regulation. Cf. Reno (2009) on this issue. 30. de Goede and van der Borgh, “A Role for Diplomats,” 121–122. 31. Ibid., 123–126. 32. Ibid., 130. 33. These missions were sometimes even carried out at great personal risk to the diplomats in question. During the August 2006 fighting between the forces of

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35. 36.

37.

38. 39. 40. 41.

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Bemba and Kabila in Kinshasa, several CIAT ambassadors came under direct fire while visiting the residence of Bemba as part of a negotiation process. Personal communication with a senior U.S. diplomat then posted to Kinshasa, June 2009. Kevin C. Dunn, “A Survival Guide to Kinshasa: Lessons of the Father, Passed Down to the Son,” in The African Stakes of the Congo War, ed. John F. Clark (New York: Palgrave, 2002), 57–58. Prunier, Africa’s World War, 254. Although there was a reluctance of the governments of states contributing forces to MONUC to have their troops go into harm’s way. Few if any of these governments were willing to endure significant casualties in the conflict. This observation is not meant to absolve the Clinton administration for its lack of significant action in the Congo crisis, but it is certainly the case that the possibilities for action were much narrower before the death of Laurent Kabila. Schraeder, “Belgium,” 176. ICG, “The Congo’s Transition is Failing,” 24. I am grateful to Amb. (ret.) Roger Meece for offering me his views to me on these points and others. de Goede and van der Borgh, “A Role for Diplomats,” 130–131.

CHAPTER 9

International Organizations and Civil Wars in Africa: The Liberian Case George Klay Kieh, Jr.

Introduction The late 1980s witnessed the eruption of a “new wave of civil wars” in Africa. Beginning with Somalia in 1988, the phenomenon spread like an epidemic to Liberia, Sierra Leone, and several other states across the continent. Interestingly, the “new wave” ensued amid the “final moment” of the “Cold War,” and its associated superpower rivalry between the Soviet Union and the United States. And as Edmond Keller observes, “. . . [this] had significant implications for African regional security.”1 The core ramification was that a vacuum was created in terms of conflict management. That is, with the end of the “Cold War,” and the attendant superpower retrenchment, Africa lacked the agencies to manage its civil conflicts. Amid this conundrum, African regional (the Organization of African Unity now the African Union) and subregional organizations (Economic Community of West African States, Southern African Development Community, etc.) were catapulted into new and unfamiliar roles as “conflict managers.” Subsequently, the United Nations, amid its meteorite rise as the new “global conflict manager,” assumed the role as the “suzerain” for the management of civil conflicts in Africa. These twin developments have led to an emergent partnership between the United Nations and African regional and subregional organizations for the management of the continent’s civil conflicts. Against this background, the purpose of this chapter is twofold. First, it will examine the modes and the effects of the intervention of the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) and the United Nations

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(UN) in the Liberian civil wars. Second, it will assess ECOWAS and the UN’s involvement in post-conflict peacebuilding in the country. The Modes of Conflict Management and Post-Conflict Peacebuilding ECOWAS and the UN employed a battery of conflict management modes as the deus ex machina for their respective interventions in the two Liberian civil wars. In this section of the chapter, the major ones—peacemaking, peacekeeping, and peace enforcement—will be briefly examined. Also, the two organizations’ roles in post-conflict peacebuilding will be deciphered. In terms of conflict management, peacemaking embodies an array of methods, including negotiation and mediation, which are used to resolve a conflict. On the other hand, peacekeeping encompasses a series of activities that are collectively designed to create the conditions for peacemaking. Among the commonly used peacekeeping models are classical peacekeeping or “Chapter VI-based peacekeeping” (the use of a military interposition force with the consent of one or all of the parties to a conflict. The peacekeepers can only use force in self-defense), the “new peacekeeping” model or “Chapter VII-based peacekeeping” (the consent of the parties to the conflict is not required; the peacekeepers can used force both offensively and defensively), peace observation (the use of unarmed military personnel to monitor compliance with a cease-fire agreement), and peace enforcement (the thrust of the operation is the use of force to induce compliance from an intransigent party). Post-conflict peacebuilding is a multilayered process that revolves around efforts to address the underlying causes of a conflict. The Case Study The First Liberian Civil War (1989–1997) The Context of the War The first Liberian civil war was the by-product of the perennial multidimensional crises of underdevelopment—cultural, economic, political, security, and social—engendered by the state during both its settler (1847– 1926) and peripheral capitalist (1926-present) phases.2 Specifically, since the Liberian state, to paraphrase Abdi Samatar and Ahmed Samatar, “was of the wrong type,”3 its various regimes, inter alia, suppressed political rights and civil liberties, and failed to formulate and implement people-centered public policies that would address the basic needs of the members of the country’s subaltern classes.4 For example, during the pre-coup era (before 1980), in

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terms of political human rights, Liberian was a staple in the “not free category” of Freedom House’s annual survey of political freedoms in the world.5 In other words, Liberia was rated recurrently as one of the most repressive countries in the world. Economically, the major indicators of human well-being showed that the members of Liberia’s subaltern classes lived perilously on the margins. For example, in 1980, the unemployment rate was 50 percent.6 Similarly, in terms of the distribution of income, the ruling class, comprising 4 percent of the population cornered 65 percent of the income, while the subaltern classes, which accounted for 74.2 percent, received a meager 23.7 percent.7 As for the distribution of wealth, it was undergirded by prevalent practice of inequality: The ruling class, which consisted of 4 percent of the population, commandeered 60 percent of the wealth, while the subalterns, who comprised 96 percent of the population, owned 40 percent.8 Socially, while the members of the ruling class and their relations had access to, for example, first-rate health care, only 38 percent of the population had access to health care.9 Significantly, even after the 1980 military coup, the material conditions of the subalterns did not improve. This was because the coup represented a change of regime only. Accordingly, the portrait of the authoritarian peripheral capitalist state remained fully in tact. For instance, the mission of the state remained the creation of propitious conditions for the private accumulation of capital by the owners of foreign capital, who constituted the external wing of the Liberian ruling class, and the local compradors, who occupied the internal wing of the ruling class. Also, in terms of its character, the state retained its multidimensional complexion described variously as “criminalized,” “exploitative,” “negligent,” “prebendal,” and “predatory.”10 Importantly, one or more dimensions of the state’s character were ascendant at particular junctures.11 Operationally, the Doe regime both in its military and “milivilian”12 incarnations continued the tradition of the vitriolic violation of political human rights.13 Economically, the peripheral capitalist economy, continued to generate, for example, inequities in income and wealth. By 1985, the ruling class, consisting of 5 percent of the population, received 68 percent of the national income, while the subaltern classes, comprising 75 percent, got 20.2 percent.14 By the end of the decade, Liberia’s Gini Coefficient was 0.53 (reflecting gross inequities in the distribution of income).15 In terms of the distribution of wealth, the bourgeoisies, accounting for 6 percent of the population, appropriated 70 percent of the national wealth.16 Socially, while the compradors and their metropolitan-based overlords and their relations enjoyed access to excellent health care services, only 35 percent of the national population had access to a modicum of health services.17

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The Onset of the War The failure of the state and the resultant erosion of its legitimacy among the subalterns provided the Taylor-led National Patriotic Front of Liberia (NPFL) with the pretext to launch an armed incursion into Liberia on Christmas Eve in 1989.18 Operating from a base in neighboring Cote d’Ivoire, the NPFL began with an attack on Nimba County in the north central section of the country. Characteristically, the Doe regime responded with the full battery of its military assets, including soldiers, weapons and related equipment. The resultant effect was the commencement of the country’s first civil war. Constrained by the lack of public support, Doe’s forces were surprisingly routed by the NPFL’s “rag tag military” in the Nimba region. The success of the attack and the subsequent seizure of the area emboldened the NPFL to launch attacks on other parts of the country. As Natalie Brown notes, “By late January 1990, Taylor’s motley supporters had advanced from the border . . . [and] reached the capital city of Monrovia in June the same year.”19 However, internal dissension led to the establishment of the Independent National Patriotic Front of Liberia (INPFL), as a breakaway faction, led by Prince Johnson, one of the NPFL’s military commanders. The establishment of the INPFL complicated the war, as the three armed factions jockeyed for control of the state. Amid the “tug and pull,” the three original armed groups rained carnage and destruction on the country.20 As the U.S. State Department asserts, “All combatants were routinely engaged in indiscriminate killing and abuse of civilians . . .”21 ECOWAS’ Intervention Background Concerned about the disintegration of the state and its consequent impact on the security and well-being of the citizenry, the Religious Leaders of Liberia launched a mediation effort ostensibly designed to resolve the civil war.22 After months of talks between Taylor’s National Patriotic Front and the Doe regime, the civil war continued.23 The principal obstacle was Taylor’s insistence that “the only way that there could be a ceasefire was for Mr. Doe to resign immediately.”24 While Taylor’s demand was being discussed, he abruptly called off the mediation efforts. The consequent effect was the failure of the religious leaders’ mediation efforts.25 With the failure of the peace initiative of the Religious Leaders of Liberia, and the escalating level of violence, the hopes of the Liberian people for the resolution of the conflict were anchored in the international community.26 Unfortunately, the international community was at the time more occupied


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with the conflict in the Persian Gulf region, and the disintegration of the former Soviet Union than with the conflicts in Africa.27 Also, Liberia’s traditional external patron, the United States, made it clear that with the end of the “Cold War,” it no longer had strategic interests in Liberia; hence, it could not get involved in the civil war.28 Interestingly, the ECOWAS made the determination that it could not allow the carnage in a member state to continue.29 However, the organization was constrained by two major factors.30 First, it was exclusively an economic organization; and thus, it was not suitable for handling security matters.31 Second and related, there was a debate whether the organization’s Mutual Defense Pact was applicable to the Liberian civil war.32 The debate focused on the provision that allows the organization to aid member states in the event of externally engineered civil conflicts that jeopardize subregional peace and security.33 In other words, the central question was whether the Liberian civil war was the consequence of internal dissent or a product of external manipulation.34 In order to address the issue of contention and the larger problem of conflicts in the subregion, the organization established a Standing Committee on Mediation, consisting of Nigeria, Gambia, Ghana, Guinea, Sierra Leone, Togo, and Mali.35 Particularly, the committee made efforts to mediate the conflict, but to no avail.36 Accordingly, in August 1990, the Standing Committee on Mediation convened a Summit Meeting of its members to determine the subsequent course of action in dealing with the Liberian civil war.37 The meeting took the following decisions:38 (1) that the parties should observe an immediate cease-fire; (2) that an ECOWAS Ceasefire Monitoring Group (ECOMOG) be set up to keep the peace, restore order, and ensure respect for the cease-fire; (3) that a broad-based interim government should be set up by Liberians through a national conference of all political parties, warring factions and other interest groups in the country; and (4) that free and fair elections should be held within 12 months to establish a democratically elected government of Liberia. Later, two provisions were added stipulating that the leaders of the warring factions could not lead the interim government; and the head of the interim government could not run for the presidency in the ensuing election.39 Significantly, the Summit Conference of the Standing Committee on Mediation made the determination that despite the legal debate and the other restrictions on the organization’s juridical basis for intervention, the sanctity of the principle of noninterference in the internal affairs of member states, and the economic-centric nature of the organization, intervention in the Liberian civil war was exigent. President Dauda Jawara of Gambia, the then

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chair of the organization, provides the rationale for ECOWAS’ intervention in the first Liberian civil war thus: “Immediate action was required to prevent Liberia, a member state, from sinking further into anarchy and destruction.”40 Thus, ECOWAS intervened in the first Liberian civil war through the instrumentarium of three interlocking modes of conflict management: peacemaking, peacekeeping and peace enforcement. However, ECOWAS’ decision to intervene was opposed by a bloc of the organization’s member states led by Cote d’Ivoire.41 Cote d’Ivoire and its bloc members couched their opposition in terms of the subregion’s “power calculus—the argument that the Nigerian-led bloc was determined to control the region, and that the intervention in Liberia was simply a ‘test case.’ ” However, the raison d’etre for the opposition was based on Cote d’ Ivoire’s support for the NPFL as evidenced by, among others, allowing the Taylor-led warlordist militia to use Ivorian territory as the bridgehead for launching its armed incursion into Liberia. Thus, for Cote d’Ivoire, ECOWAS’ intervention was viewed as an anti-NPFL undertaking ostensibly designed to prevent the NPFL from seizing control of state power in Liberia. Similarly, the Taylor-led NPFL vehemently opposed ECOWAS’ intervention, and vowed to attack the organization’s peacekeeping force.42 Peacekeeping On August 24, 1990, ECOMOG, ECOWAS’ peacekeeping force, entered Liberia. The initial force of 3,500 included contingents from Ghana, Gambia, Guinea, Nigeria, and Sierra Leone. Subsequently, the size of the force burgeoned to about 10,000 in 1997. Operating under the new peacekeeping model, the peacekeeping force’s mandate consisted of the following planks: (1) to end the hostilities; (2) to establish security zones; (3) to impose a cease-fire; (4) to interdict weapons; (5) to supervise the disarming and encampment of the combatants; and (6) to assume the security for the entire country, until a new government was elected.43 Importantly, the Taylor-led NPFL made good on its promise to attack the peacekeeping force: Upon the peacekeeping force’s arrival at the Freeport of Monrovia, the NPFL launched an attack against it. Consequently, a battle ensued between the peacekeeping force and the NPFL militia. After several days, the peacekeeping force prevailed and dislodged the NPFL contingent from the Freeport area, as well as the larger capital city metroplex. Thereafter, the peacekeeping force pushed the NPFL forces to the central region of the country, and proceeded subsequently to establish a “buffer zone.” In other words, the peacekeeping force through the use of military force was able to confine the NPFL to specific geographic zones in the country. Similarly, the peacekeeping force was able to confine the forces of the Doe regime and


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the Independent National Patriotic Front of Liberia (INPFL) to specific geographic regions as well, as part of the strategy of creating “security corridors,” especially for the delivery of humanitarian relief to civilians. Subsequently, the peacekeeping force was able to impose and police a cease-fire among the belligerents. Even as other armed factions, including ULIMO-J, ULIMO-K, the Liberian Peace Council, the Lofa Defense Force, and the NPFL-Central Revolutionary Council, emerged, the peacekeeping force succeeded in confining them to defined areas, and in the imposition of compliance with the cease-fire. Interestingly, once it succeeded in establishing a cease-fire, the peacekeeping force shifted to the use of the classical model of peacekeeping. That is, with the establishment of some modicum of stability by 1991, the peacekeeping force focused its attention on monitoring the various warring factions’ compliance with the cease-fire. However, when a warring faction violated the cease-fire, the peacekeeping force then shifted to the robust peacekeeping and peace enforcement models. For example, in 1992, when the NPFL launched a surprise attack on the capital city, the peacekeeping force used both the robust peacekeeping and peace enforcement models. Also, the peacekeeping force used the same strategy in early 1996, when the NPFL and ULIMO-K launched another round of attacks against the capital city. After almost seven years, ECOMOG completed its peacekeeping mission in July 1997, after the brokering of the Abuja II Peace Accord that finally ended the first civil war. In terms of its performance, there were both successes and failures with the peacekeeping operation. The overarching success of the peacekeeping operation was that it prevented the belligerents from totally destroying the county. The derivatives included the creation of “security corridors” for the delivery of humanitarian aid and as “safety nets” for thousands of civilians, the creation of the conditions for peacemaking, the reduction of the amount of weapons that were in circulation through the disarmament process, and the establishment of a modicum of stability for the holding of the first post-conflict election in July 1997. On the other hand, the peacekeeping operation had some failures as well. These included the inability to prevent the warring parties, especially the NPFL, from plundering and pillaging the country’s natural resources; the failure to establish “law and order” throughout the country; and the dubious circumstances that led to the capture and death of President Samuel Doe. In the latter case, according to eyewitness accounts, in the early morning of September 9, 1990, Prince Johnson, the leader of the INPFL, held a two-hour discussion with General Arnold Quainoo, the Ghanaian commander of the peacekeeping force at the force’s headquarters at the Freeport of Monrovia.44 The centerpiece of the meeting was a conspiracy to bring

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Doe to his death.45 Accordingly, President Doe was convinced to visit the peacekeeping force’s headquarters. When Doe arrived at the ECOMOG’s headquarters, his forces were disarmed by the members of the peacekeeping force; but, the peacekeeping force allowed the soldiers of the INPFL to retain their weapons.46 Thus, the INPFL forces opened fire and killed scores of Doe’s soldiers, captured Doe, tortured and murdered him.47 This development severely undermined the neutrality of the peacekeeping force. Peace Enforcement In September 1990, ECOWAS ordered ECOMOG to shift from peacekeeping to peace enforcement.48 The reason was the determination of the warring factions, especially the NPFL, to flaunt the cease-fire that the peacekeeping force had imposed, particularly, the continuing adverse impact of warmaking on the civilian population. In justifying the strategic shift, General Sani Abacha, then the chief of defense staff and minister of defense of Nigeria, argued, “under the present grim situation, the use of force had become inevitable.”49 The peace enforcement activities took place in various phases. The first phase involved the enforcement of the cease-fire ECOMOG had imposed, amid the intransigence of the warring parties. Specifically, this involved the engagement of the NPFL in heated battles for the control of the capital city and its environs. Subsequently, ECOMOG took control of the area, and drove the three warring factions at the time—Doe’s military, the NPFL ,and the INPFL—into various areas where their activities could be monitored. For example, the NPFL was forced to retreat to Bong County in the central part of the country. Similarly, Doe’s military was confined to the Barclay Training Center and Camp Schefflin, two military bases in the capital city area, while the INPFL was limited to a base in Cadwell, a suburb of the capital city. The second phase revolved around the pacification of the various regions that were in proximity to the capital city region. This stage revolved around two major tasks. The peacekeeping force continued to insist that the warring factions complied with the cease-fire without any exception or risked facing punitive measures from the peacekeeping force. The other task was the prevention of the influx of arms and ammunition to the belligerents. The third stage involved efforts to disarm the various warring factions in early 1992, consistent with the provisions of the Yamoussoukro IV Peace Accord.50 However, the NPFL resisted being disarmed by refusing to allow the peacekeeping force to enter the territory it held.51 But, interestingly, ECOMOG did not use force to induce compliance from the NPFL. Instead, the peacekeeping force retreated. In April 1992, ECOMOG again attempted to disarm the warring factions; but, the NPFL again resisted. Also, the


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NPFL abducted and subsequently murdered six Senegalese peacekeepers.52 Four months later, the NPFL held 580 peacekeepers as hostages.53 The peacekeepers had entered the “NPFL’s territory” to effect disarmament.54 The peacekeepers were later released, following the intervention of former U.S. president Jimmy Carter, who enjoyed the confidence of the NPFL.55 On balance, the peace enforcement activities helped to induce compliance with the cease-fire from all of the warring factions—INPFL, LPC, ULIMO-J, and ULIMO-K—except the Taylor-led NPFL. This was pivotal to the creation of a modicum of stability, and the protection of the lives of thousands of civilians. However, on the other hand, the major drawbacks were that civilians were regularly caught up in the “cross-fire,” thus leading to several deaths; and because of the limited size of the peacekeeping force vis-à-vis the warring factions, ECOMOG forged “strange alliances” with the other warring factions and used them in undertaking various enforcement actions against the NPFL. Again, these actions compromised the neutrality of the peacekeeping force. Peacemaking ECOWAS’ peacemaking activities revolved around the organization’s “peace plan” and the brokering of 16 peace agreements. The process commenced with the “Banjul Peace Plan” of 1990, which framed the organization’s peacemaking activities. Briefly, the “Plan” called for the establishment of a cease-fire, and the establishment of a transitional government, which the warlords were prohibited from heading. Interestingly, the peace plan was crafted without the participation of the various warring factions, and political parties and civil society organizations. Having laid the foundation of its peacemaking activities, ECOWAS then superintended the processes that culminated in 16 peace accords. The first accord was the “All Liberian Conference I Peace Agreement” of 1990. The plan took steps to implement the framework of ECOWAS’ peacemaking activities (“The Banjul Peace Plan”) by, among others, electing an interim government. Interestingly, the warring factions did not participate in the mediation and negotiation processes that culminated in the crafting of the peace plan. Instead, the participants were the representatives of Liberia’s various political parties and some of the civil society organizations. Despite this major limitation, the various warring factions accepted the peace plan, except the NPFL. Again, the NPFL’s rejection of the peace plan was informed by the warlordist militia’s belief that ECOWAS’ intervention in the first Liberian civil war posed a serious hindrance to the achievement of the warlordist militia’s ultimate goal of seizing control of state power. As has been discussed, this belief guided the NPFL’s resistance to ECOWAS’ peacekeeping and

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peace enforcement operations. Similarly, it conditioned the NPFL’s reaction to ECOWAS various peacemaking activities as well. Amid the NPFL’s resistance, ECOWAS proceeded to broker the Bamako, Banjul, Lome, All Liberian Conference II, The Yammousoukro I-IV, Geneva, Cotonou, Akosombo, The Accra I and II and the Abuja I and II Peace accords. Anchored on ECOWAS’ “peace plan,” each of these peace agreements sought to address various aspects of the civil war. Interestingly, despite the NPFL’s opposition to ECOWAS’ intervention in the war, the warlordist militia participated in, and signed each of the accords. Overall, ECOWAS’ peacemaking activities helped to reduce the underlying mistrust and tension that propelled the civil war by providing various fora in which the belligerents and the representatives of the civilian population held various discussions with the ostensible goal of terminating the war. However, on the other hand, there were two major drawbacks. ECOWAS failed to take cognizance of the fact that the NPFL was not really interested in the termination of the war, despite its participation in the negotiation and mediation processes that led to the signing of the various peace accords. And this was evidenced by the fact that the NPFL recurrently reneged on the terms of the various peace accords time after time, thereby leading to the cyclical trajectory of “the signing of a peace accord-the reneging of the NPFL-the signing of a new peace accord.” In short, the NPFL’s participation, based on the repository of evidence, was designed to “buy time” for the warlordist militia. That is, each time the NPFL determined that it was in a vulnerable position, it then pretended to be interested in bringing the war to an end. Then, once was circumstance of the vulnerability was removed, the militia then resumed its “spoiler role” in the peacemaking process. In short, ECOWAS clearly failed to develop a contingency plan to deal with the “spoiler phenomenon.” And this led to the organization undertaking a seemingly unending peacemaking process. The other major drawback was that although ECOWAS publicly demonstrated its resolve to bring the war to an end by threatening the various warlords, including Charles Taylor, with war crimes prosecution, if they did not agree to terminate the war, the organization’s leaders led by Nigerian president Sani Abacha privately hatched a plan to create an enabling environment for Taylor to win the ensuing post-conflict election.56 So, Taylor “winning the presidency” was the quid pro quo for his willingness to terminate the civil war. Significantly, although Taylor would have won the election anyway for a variety of reasons, ECOWAS’ decision gave Taylor carte blanche to violate the electoral regulations. For example, in contravention of the rules, Taylor commenced his presidential campaign earlier than the stipulated date for the official beginning of the campaign season. Also, ECOWAS, despite


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the disarmament process, allowed Taylor to keep the command and control structures of his administrative and military machinery intact. Undoubtedly, this gave Taylor a major advantage in the presidential race. Ultimately, the “electoral playing field” was heavily tilted in Taylor’s favor. Post-Conflict Peacebuilding Despite its “intervention-fatigue” as evidenced by the hashing of the “Abacha Plan”57 that stipulated that propitious conditions be created by ECOWAS to help ensure that Taylor “won” the first post-conflict election, the organization was cognizant of the centrality of successful post-conflict peacebuilding. Accordingly, in the area of security sector reform, for example, under the Abuja II Peace Accord that ended the first civil war all of the armed factions were to be disbanded, and a new army was to be trained and established under the direction of ECOMOG, the peacekeeping force.58 However, following his inauguration as the twenty-first president of Liberia on August 6, 1997, Taylor rejected the provision of the Abuja II Peace Accord that provided for an open and transparent restructuring of the security forces by the West African peacekeeping force.59 Instead, there was a wholesale enrollment of fighters from Taylor’s former faction into the country’s security and police forces without serious efforts to provide training.60 Also, Taylor reneged on the pledges to incorporate members from the other former armed factions into the country’s security, police and military forces.61 Unwilling to compel Taylor to honor the security sector reform provisions of the Abuja II Peace Accord, ECOWAS withdrew the peacekeeping force, and ended its intervention in the first civil war. Thus, unrestrained by a “counterveiling force,” the Taylor regime sounded the “death kneel” for security sector reform. Broadly, the Taylor junta refused to undertake post-conflict peacebuilding in the other sectors—economic, political, social, et cetera. Instead, the regime set into motion the process of recreating an authoritarian state. The United Nations Background With its attention monopolized by the U.S.-led war against Iraq in 1991, the UN accorded very little attention to the Liberian civil war. Even after the “African Caucus” prevailed on the UN, the organization still failed to put the Liberian civil war on the “front burner” of its agenda on global issues. Thus, in effect, the UN was derelict in the performance of its primary responsibility for the maintenance of international peace and security. Interestingly, long after ECOWAS had intervened in the civil war, the Security Council then

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belatedly passed Resolution 788 authorizing ECOWAS to intervene in the civil war through the use of peacekeeping.62 However, in 1993, the UN made a shift in its position from simply legitimizing ECOWAS’ intervention in the civil war to active participation in the management of the conflict. The shift was occasioned by the difficulties ECOWAS was experiencing in getting the Taylor-led NPFL to cooperate with its conflict management efforts. That is, ECOWAS, the Organization of African Unity (now the African Union), the rest of the international community, the other Liberian warring factions, and Liberian political parties entertained the hope that the UN’s intervention would help move the stalled process of terminating the civil war. Peacekeeping Under the terms of the Cotonou Peace Accord, the United Nations agreed to participate in the ECOWAS-led peacekeeping operation in Liberia.63 Accordingly, the Security Council authorized the establishment of a United Nations Observer Mission in Liberia (UNOMIL) under Resolution 866 (1993).64 The peace observation mission’s mandate gave it both exclusive and concurrent functions.65 In the case of the former, UNOMIL was authorized to monitor and verify compliance with the cease-fire by all of the warring parties—National Patriotic Front of Liberia (NPFL), ULIMO-K, ULIMO-J, the Liberian Peace Council (LPC) and the Loaf Defense Force, and the embargo on the delivery of arms and military equipment.66 The concurrent functions were the disarming, encampment, and demobilization of the combatants in collaboration with the Economic Community of West African States Monitoring Group (ECOMOG), the peacekeeping force of ECOWAS, the subregional organization.67 Operationally, UNOMIL took several steps in order to execute its mandate. First, it established 29 monitoring sites throughout Liberia, as the kernel of its monitoring of compliance with the cease-fire function. Second, the peace observation force sought to establish modalities for monitoring compliance with the UN’s embargo on arms and military equipment. Third, UNOMIL worked with ECOMOG in carrying out the disarmament and demobilization of the combatants. In terms of an evaluation, the peace observation mission had one major success and several failures. On the success front, UNOMIL helped in the establishment of a modicum of stability for the holding of the 1997 election. However, on the other hand, there were many pitfalls. The UN failed to commit the requisite financial and material resources that were exigent for the success of the operation. Another problem was that the UN undermined ECOWAS’ conflict management efforts by, among others, establishing


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the monitoring sites and making agreements with the various warring factions, especially the NPFL, without consultation with ECOMOG. Also, the limited size of the peace observation mission (at its height, UNOMIL consisted of 652 military and civilian observers) vis-à-vis the size of Liberia militated against UNOMIL’s capacity to effectively perform the crucial function of interdicting arms and equipment to the warring factions. Similarly, UNOMIL failed to monitor widespread violations of political human rights by the various warring factions. Peacebuilding Interestingly, despite the Taylor regime’s refusal to honor the security sector reform provision of the Abuja II Peace Accord, and the subsequent departure of ECOMOG, the UN made the determination that it could intervene in the country’s post-conflict peacebuilding process. Thus, in November 1997, the UN, after consultations with President Charles Taylor, established the United Nations Peace-building Support Office (UNOL).68 UNOL’s mandate was “to support the Government’s efforts to consolidate peace and democracy, and promote national reconciliation and the rule of law, including the protection of human rights.”69 Unfortunately, despite its lofty mission, UNOL failed, as the Taylor regime set into motion the process of rebuilding an authoritarian state, as evidenced by, inter alia, the violation of political human rights, and recriminations against some of the members of the other former warlordist militias.70 In other words, UNOL mission became moribund, as the Taylor regime categorically demonstrated its determination to revert to the country’s authoritarian past. Clearly, the UN was impervious to President Taylor’s consistent record of unreliability in the fulfillment of agreements.

The Second Liberian Civil War The Context The second Liberian civil war was caused by a confluence of two sets of factors: contingent and proximate. In the case of the former, the Taylor regime failed to democratically reconstitute the authoritarian peripheral capitalist Liberian state and to address the crises of underdevelopment—cultural, economic, political, security, and social—it generated. As has been discussed, the first civil war was caused by the multifaceted crises of underdevelopment generated by the authoritarian peripheral capitalist state. So, it was imperative for the post-first civil war order to focus on addressing these crises. But, no effort was made to address these critical issues.

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In the case of the latter, the horrendous performance of the Taylor regime made matters worse. For example, pressured by the quick evaporation of his electoral support, President Taylor made the determination to use ethnic scapegoating as a major rationale for justifying his regime’s dismal performance.71 Accordingly, the Taylor regime targeted and subjected some members of the Krahn and Mandingo ethnic groups, which were claimed to be aligned with the erstwhile Doe regime, to political persecution.72 Specifically, Taylor claimed that elements from these two ethnic groups were plotting to overthrow his government. Another indicator of the poor performance of the Taylor regime was political repression. The Taylor regime harassed, intimidated, imprisoned, and murdered some of its political opponents, including Samuel Dokie, and his wife, son, and sister by personnel of the Special Security Service.73 Also, the subaltern classes continued to be plagued by the vagaries of deprivation, while Taylor and the members of the new Liberian ruling class lived in opulence. For example, by 1999, the poverty rate was 76.2 percent.74

The Onset of the War Sensing the vulnerability of the Taylor regime, some of Taylor’s rivals during the first civil well, as well as some of the disaffected members of the NPFL organized a group called “Liberians United for Reconciliation and Democracy (LURD).” The group’s sole purpose was to depose Taylor from power and to become the country’s rulers. But, clearly, given the sordid record of the group’s top brass, there was no doubt that a LURD-led government would not have been different from the Taylor one. Operating from a base in neighboring Guinea, LURD’s forces launched attacks initially against the west and northwest regions of the country in 1999. As expected, the Taylor regime responded with the full battery of its military and security assets. Thus, the country was rocked by its second civil war, barely after the end of the first one. For about three years, the war was confined to the west and northwest portions of the county. However, by early 2003, the war began to move closer to the capital city region. To make matters worse, the number of parties in the war increased from two—the Taylor regime and LURD—to three with the establishment of the Movement of Democracy in Liberia (MODEL). MODEL was established as LURD’s “second front.”75 By March 2003, LURD and MODEL had overrun Taylor’s forces and seized most of the country. Amid the struggles between the Taylor regime and the LURD-MODEL axis, hundreds of civilians were being killed indiscriminately by both sides.76


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ECOWAS’ Intervention Background During the initial phase of the second civil war, ECOWAS made several efforts to end the conflict. For example, representatives of ECOWAS held various meetings with the Taylor regime, the Conte regime in Guinea, LURD’s chief patron, and with LURD officials. However, these efforts failed. With the combatants and patron demonstrating intransigence, ECOWAS entertained the hope that the war would not spread beyond the western and northwestern regions of Liberia. And this was reflected in the gradual withering of the organization’s initial peacemaking efforts. Clearly, this shift created a vacuum, which was subsequently filled by an escalation in the war. By the time, ECOWAS reintervened, the war had escalated. Peacemaking With the support of the United Nations, the African Union, the European Union, and the United States, ECOWAS launched a peacemaking process designed to end the civil war. The process consisted of four major stages. The first phase centered around ECOWAS’ mediation efforts, as well as negotiations among the warring factions designed to get them to end the war. The deliberations focused on the terms for a cease-fire agreement, the termination of hostilities and the formation of a transitional government.77 After the “tugs and pulls,” the belligerents agreed on the modalities for ending the war. The second stage involved broader discussions involving the warring factions, political parties, and civil society organizations. The ECOWASmediated deliberations revolved around the development of the major tenets of a peace agreement—the cease-fire agreement, the role of a peacekeeping force, the formation of a transitional government and other mechanisms such as the establishment of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and the timetable for the holding of presidential and legislative elections. Amid the peace talks, ECOWAS and other international actors were engaged in the arrangement of President Taylor’s departure from Liberia, following the end of his tenure of office in early August 2003. Both LURD and MODEL were insistent that the sine qua non for terminating the war was Taylor’s resignation as president, and his subsequent departure from the country. After several weeks, Taylor agreed to resign and leave the country. Nigeria consented to provide him political asylum. The third phase of the peacemaking process focused on the formation of the transitional government. Based on a formula that reflected the rewarding of warlordism, the three warring factions were given dominant roles.

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For example, the head of the transitional government was chosen by the belligerents. Also, the warlordist militias divided the various government agencies among themselves in a fashion akin to the distribution of the “spoils of war.” Each faction made efforts to secure those government agencies that were oriented toward the generation of revenues, such as the Ministry of Finance and the National Port Authority. The final stage was the crafting of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement or the Accra Peace Accord in June 2003. Among others, the agreement embodied the cease-fire agreement, called for ECOWAS and the UN to establish peacekeeping forces, stipulated that a Truth and Reconciliation Commission be established to probe the undercurrents of the war, and set the timetable for the holding of national elections. In terms of evaluation, the major successes of the peacemaking efforts were that they created the requisite space for the translation of hostilities into discussions, accommodation and compromise, designed the modalities for ending the war, shepherded the establishment of a broad-based interim government, and set into motion the arduous task of post-conflict peacebuilding. On the other hand, the greatest problem was that the process privileged the warring factions, as evidenced by making them the suzerains in the formation of the transitional government. Such an approach in effect rewarded the belligerents for their warmaking efforts, thereby setting a dangerous precedent for future militarists. Peacekeeping After a long delay, ECOMIL, the peacekeeping force intervened in the country in August 2003. The initial force of 3,600 consisted of soldiers from Benin, Ghana, Mali, Nigeria, and Togo. The peacekeeping force’s mandate was enshrined in UN Security Council Resolution 1493. The provisions were as follows: (1) to establish zones of separation; (2) to secure the cease-fire; and (3) to create conditions for the deployment of an international stabilization force.78 Overall, the peacekeeping force had both successes and challenges. In the case of the former, ECOMIL was able to secure the international airport and the Freeport, two important assets for travel and humanitarian relief; establish security corridors; separated the belligerents; and took control of the capital city region. On the other hand, however, there were several challenges, including ECOMIL’s inability to stop the incessant fighting that took place between LURD and MODEL forces, on the one hand, and the government’s troops, on the other. The related issue was that the limited size of the force made it difficult for it to establish stability outside of the capital city region, ECOMIL’s inability to stop the horrendous human rights violations that were


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committed by the factions, logistics, and the lack of critical expertise such as fluency in the local languages. The United Nations’ Intervention Background Unlike the first Liberian civil war that was characterized by the lack of cooperation between the UN and ECOWAS, there was cooperation between the two organizations during the second war. Operating under its new model of subsidiarity—the development of partnerships with regional and subregional organizations in the management of civil conflicts79 —the UN formed a partnership with ECOWAS under which the latter took the lead role in the management of the civil war, while the former assumed a supportive one. This was particularly evident in the peacemaking process. In the peacekeeping area, the two organizations developed an arrangement under which ECOWAS intervened initially with a peacekeeping force, created a modicum of stability, and then a UN peacekeeping force replaced ECOMIL. Peacekeeping Acting under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, the Security Council authorized the deployment of a UN peacekeeping force under Resolution 1509, consisting initially of 15,000 troops. The peacekeeping force was given a multifaceted mandate, including peacebuilding. The latter covers the disarmament and demobilization of the combatants, assistance with the post-conflict presidential and legislative elections, and the training of the new national police force. The UN Peacekeeping force replaced ECOMIL on October 1, 2003. Over the past six years, the UN peacekeeping force has, among others, disarmed and demobilized the fighters of the three warring factions; assisted with the holding of the 2005 presidential and legislative election; and trained and organized the new police force. Besides the violent activities of some of the ex-combatants in 2003, no other action has occurred that threatens the modicum of stability that the peacekeeping force has established. Clearly, this has made it possible for “life to return to normal,” as evidenced by, among others, uninhibited travel throughout the country. Peacebuilding The United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL), which provides the overarching tapestry for the UN’s activities in Liberia, has, and continues to undertake various peacebuilding activities. In the security sector, for example, as has been discussed, the police unit has trained and reorganized the

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Liberian National Police Force. Also, UNMIL has undertaken various civil projects ostensibly designed to help rebuild the country’s infrastructure. While these activities are quite useful to the building of durable peace and stability, they are, however, being implemented within the bowels of a somewhat liberalizing peripheral capitalist political economy. The major drawback is that given the confluence of crises of underdevelopment that occasioned the civil war, the establishment of even a full-blown liberal peripheral capitalist state will not set the country on the path to durable peace. This is because the liberal peacebuilding tapestry, the framework of the UN’s peacebuilding activities in the country, is quite limited. For example, it does not foster socioeconomic equality and justice, and neither does it facilitate the transformation of inequitable power relationships in the various spheres and at various levels. In short, the ultimate impact of the UN’s peacebuilding activities in the country will be limited.

Conclusion ECOWAS’ intervention in the two Liberian civil wars was pivotal to arresting the tide of anarchy and destruction that had engulfed the country, as the various warring factions contested for control of the state machinery. Specifically, the organization’s peacemaking efforts helped create the requisite space for the various warring parties to discuss their competing interests. Also, ECOWAS’ peacekeeping activities helped to create a modicum of stability, and to establish security corridors for the delivery of much needed supplies such as food and medicine. On the other hand, ECOWAS’ peacemaking approach, especially during the first civil war, revolved around the rewarding of warlordism. This was reflected in the fact that the organization capitulated to the Taylorled NPFL in a seemingly unending cycle of appeasement. Also, ECOWAS’ peace enforcement activities were quite problematic in that they led to the deaths of civilians, and the undermining of the force’s neutrality. This was because the force collaborated with some of the warring factions against the Taylor-led NPFL. In the case of the United Nations, its intervention in the first Liberian civil war through the use of peace observation suffered from many flaws, including the undermining of ECOWAS’ peacekeeping efforts, and the failure to monitor and report the horrendous violations of human rights that occurred. On the other hand, by cooperating with ECOWAS during the second civil war, the UN was able to play a more useful and positive role. This was evidenced by the fact that the UN supported ECOWAS’ peacemaking efforts, and took over the peacekeeping activities from ECOWAS.


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As for the building of durable peace in Liberia, the use of the liberal peacebuilding template by the UN has limited utility. This is because the approach cannot address, among others, the inherent undemocratic portrait of peripheral capitalism and its associated vagaries of inequities and inequalities, power asymmetries, and social injustice. In short, the liberal peacebuilding approach that provides the compass for navigating the UN’s involvement in post-conflict peacebuilding will not lead to the construction of a holistically democratic new Liberia.

Notes 1. Edmond Keller, “African Conflict Management and the New World Order,” IGCC Policy Paper #13 (La Jolle, CA: Institute on Global Conflict and Cooperation, 1995), 1. 2. For a detailed discussion of the causes of the first Liberian civil war, see George Klay Kieh, Jr., Liberia’s First Civil War: The Crises of Underdevelopment (New York: Peter Lang Publishing, 2008). 3. See Abdi Samatar and Ahmed Samatar, The African State: Reconsiderations (Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 2002). 4. See Kieh, Liberia’s First Civil War and George Klay Kieh, Jr., “The Taproots of the Liberian Civil War,” Twenty-First Afro-Review 2, no. 3 (1996): 123–152. 5. See Freedom House, Freedom in the World, 1972–2009 (Washington D.C.: Freedom House). 6. See United Nations Development Program, Human Development Report (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 156. 7. See Ministry of Planning and Economic Affairs, The Economic Survey of Liberia (Monrovia: Government Printing Office, 1988). 8. See Movement for Justice in Africa, Liberia: The Situation in Our Country (Monrovia, Liberia: MOJA, 1980), 4. 9. See the Ministry of Planning and Economic Affairs, 1988. 10. See Kieh, Liberia’s First Civil War, p. 56. 11. See Pita Ogaba Agbese, “The State in Africa: A Political Economy,” in Beyond State Failure and Collapse: Making the State Relevant in Africa, ed. George Klay Kieh Jr. (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2007), 36. 12. See George Klay Kieh Jr., “Military Rule in Liberia,” Journal of Political and Military Sociology 28 (2000): 327–340. 13. See Freedom House, Freedom in the World, 1972–2009. 14. See Ministry of Planning and Economic Affairs, 1988. 15. See May Mercado Peters and Shahla Shapouri, “Income Inequality and Food Security,” Economic Research Service, November 9, 1997, 45. 16. See George Klay Kieh, Jr., “The Crisis of Democracy in Liberia,” Liberian Studies Journal 22, no. 1 (1997): 27. 17. See Ministry of Planning and Economic Affairs, 1988.

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18. See Comfort Ero, “ECOWAS and the Subregional Peacekeeping in Liberia,” Journal of Humanitarian Assistance 2, no. 4 (1995): 2. 19. Natalie Brown, “ECOWAS and the Liberian Experience: Peacekeeping and SelfPreservation, CSC Paper (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of State, 1999), 8. 20. See George Klay Kieh, Jr., “Civil War and Peacekeeping in the West African Subregion: The Case of the Economic Community of West African States’ Intervention in Liberia,” Journal of the Third World Spectrum 7, no. 1 (2000): 43. 21. U.S. Department of State, Human Rights Report (Washington, D.C.: U.S. State Department, 1993), 342. 22. See George Klay Kieh, Jr., “The Economic Community of West African States, Conflict Management and the Liberian Civil War,” Low Intensity Conflict & Law Enforcement 8, no. 2 (1999): 134. 23. Ibid. 24. See Arch Bishop Michael K. Francis, Statement to Liberians in Sierra Leone (Monrovia: Government Printing Office, 1990), 2. 25. For a detailed discussion of the Religious Leaders of Liberia’s peacemaking efforts during the first Liberian Civil War, see George Klay Kieh, Jr., “Religious Leaders, Peacemaking and the First Liberian Civil War,” Journal of Religion, Conflict and Peace 2, no. 2 (2009). www.religionconflictpeace.org. Accessed March 2, 2009. 26. See Kieh, “The Economic Community of West African States, Conflict Management and the Liberian Civil War,” 135. 27. See Margaret Vogt, “Introduction,” in The Liberian Crisis and ECOMOG: A Bold Attempt at Regional Peacekeeping, ed. Margaret Vogt (Ikokoyi, Lagos: Gabumo Publishing Co., 1992), 3. 28. Kieh, “The Economic Community of West African States, Conflict Management and the Liberian Civil War,” 135. 29. Ibid. 30. Ibid. 31. Ibid. 32. Ibid. 33. Ibid. 34. Ibid. 35. Ibid. 36. Ibid. 37. Ibid. 38. See West Africa, October 15–21, 1990, 2652. 39. See Kieh, “The Economic Community of West African States, Conflict Management and the Liberian Civil War,” 136. 40. See Segun Aderiye, “ECOMOG’s Landing,” in The Liberian Crisis and ECOMOG: A Bold Attempt at Regional Peacekeeping, ed. Margaret Vogt (Ikokoyi, Lagos: Gabumo Publishing Co., 1992), 131. 41. See Peter Dumbuya, “ECOWAS’ Military Intervention in Sierra Leone: Anglophone-Francophone Bipolarity or Multipolarity?” Journal of Third World Studies 25, no. 2 (2008): 83–102.


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42. Kieh, “The Economic Community of West African States, Conflict Management and the Liberian Civil War,” 136. 43. See Secretariat, Economic Community of West African States, The Banjul Communiqué, August 7, 1991. 44. See West Africa, October 15–21, 1990, 2652. 45. Ibid. 46. Ibid. 47. Ibid. 48. See Kieh, “The Economic Community of West African States, Conflict Management and the Liberian Civil War,” 141. 49. Guardian, September 20, 1990. Cited in Osisioma B.C. Nwolise, “The Internationalization of the Liberian Crisis and its Effects on West Africa,” in The Liberian Crisis and ECOMOG: A Bold Attempt at Regional Peacekeeping, ed. Margaret Vogt (Ikokoyi, Lagos: Gabumo Publishing Co., 1992), 63. 50. See Kieh, “The Economic Community of West African States, Conflict Management and the Liberian Civil War,” 143. 51. Ibid. 52. See Africa Watch, May 1992, 1. 53. See Kieh, “The Economic Community of West African States, Conflict Management and the Liberian Civil War,” 143. 54. Ibid. 55. Ibid. 56. The former officials and leading members of the various warring factions in the first Liberian civil war with whom I conducted interviews in July and December 1998 and 1999, as part of a research project on “State Failure, Collapse and Reconstitution in West Africa,” uniformly asserted that the “Abacha Plan” was an agreement among the leaders of ECOWAS to create favorable conditions for Taylor to “win” the first post-conflict election in Liberia, as the strategy for ending the war. 57. Ibid. 58. See Mamadou Diouma Bah, “Peace-Building Through Informal Channels: A Comparative Analysis of Liberia and Mozambique” (Masters Thesis, Tromso, Norway: University of Tromso, 2006), 5. 59. See Human Rights Watch, Liberia: Emerging from Destruction (New York: Human Rights Watch, 1997), 5. 60. Ibid. 61. Ibid. 62. See UN Security Council Resolution 788 (1992), November 19, 1992. 63. See George Klay Kieh, Jr., “The United Nations’ Peace Observation Mission and the First Liberian Civil War,” Peace Studies Journal 2, no. 1 (2009): 49. 64. Ibid. 65. See UN Security Council Resolution 866 (1993). 66. Ibid. 67. Ibid.

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68. See United Nations, United Nations and Liberia (New York: Department of Public Information, 2000), 1. 69. Ibid. 70. See Human Rights Watch, World Report, 1998 (New York: Human Rights Watch, 1998). 71. See George Klay Kieh, Jr., “The Roots of the Second Liberian Civil War,” International Journal on World Peace 26, no. 1 (2009): 20. 72. Ibid. 73. See Human Rights Watch, “Liberia,” World Report, 1999 (New York: Human Rights Watch, 1999), 50. 74. See United Nations Development Program, Liberia: National Development Report (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 2. 75. See BBC Radio, Interview with Joe Wylie, April 9, 2003. 76. See Human Rights Watch, “Liberia,” World Report, 2003 (New York: Human Rights Watch, 2003), 47. 77. See George Klay Kieh, Jr., “The Economic Community of West African States, Peacemaking and the Second Liberian Civil War,” Liberian Studies Journal 32, no. 1 (2007): 67–83. 78. See Festus B. Aboagye and Alhaji M.S. Bah, “Liberia at a Crossroads: A Preliminary Look at the United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL) and the Protection of Civilians,” ISS Occasional Paper No. 95 (Pretoria, South Africa: Institute for Security Studies, 1994). 79. For a sample of the literature on the principle of “subsidiarity” in global conflict management, see David O’brien, “The Search for Subsidiarity: The UN, African Regional Organizations and Humanitarian Action,” International Peacekeeping 7, no. 3 (2000): 57–83.

CHAPTER 10

International Actors and Côte d’Ivoire’s Political and Economic Crises Abdul Karim Bangura

Introduction In line with the mantra of almost everyone who has written about Côte d’Ivoire, the story of the country goes as follows: with its close ties to Western nations when it gained independence from France in 1960, the development of cocoa production for export, and foreign investment, Côte d’Ivoire emerged as one of the most prosperous countries and a model for economic growth and political stability in West Africa. The country, which is made up of a predominantly Christian south and a Muslim north, was united under the strong leadership of its first president, Dr. Felix HouphouëtBoigny, from independence until his death in 1993. Since then, Côte d’Ivoire has been besieged by a series of political and economic crises. While many observers have discussed the internal factors that account for the country’s crises, the roles of international actors have been ignored. Thus, the major question probed in this chapter is quite straightforward: what roles have international actors played in Côte d’Ivoire’s crises and why? This question is poignant because many other scholars and I have demonstrated that foreign influence—operationalized as perceived or real external effect from military intervention or presence, military aid, economic aid, trade, ideology, values, and veto power—has had a negative impact on the economic and political crises of African countries.1 Many other scholars have also done case studies on foreign influence and political instability in Africa.2

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In combing through the available literature on Côte d’Ivoire and on the basis of evidence I gathered during my fieldwork in the country in 2006, the following international actors have been and continue to be quite active there: the African Union (AU), Burkina Faso, the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), France, the United Nations, the United States, and major transnational cocoa companies. Before probing the roles of these international actors in Côte d’Ivoire’s crises, however, it makes sense to begin by providing a brief historical background of the country’s crises to situate why the international actors have played and continue to play a role in that country. Brief Historical Background of the Crises Not much has been written about the early history of Côte d’Ivoire. It is thought that a Neolithic culture existed in the area that is today called Côte d’Ivoire. Within the Bilad as-Sudan, “the land of the Blacks,” that stretched from the Nile Valley westward to the Atlantic Ocean, the settling of a sovereign region near the Sénégal River known as Ouagadou sprouted into a metropolis.3 This original settlement was called Ghana, “warrior king”, by the Soninke people who began to expand their self-governed community westward until it included the entire territory, encompassing present day Mali, Senegal, Guinea, and Mauritania, and later expanding into Niger, Togo, Benin, Cote d’Ivoire, and Burkina Faso, a territorial advance that sparkled the beginning of a centuries-long “Golden Age.”4 Founded as early as the fourth century, the Ghanaian Kingdom gained absolute power under Khaya Maghan, “master of gold,” by the eighth century. Enjoying immense wealth due to the abundance of sorghum, millet, cotton, and other agricultural products, as well as vast treasures of gold, Ghana remained at peace until the Berber invasions from the north late in the eleventh century.5 France made its initial contact with Côte d’Ivoire in 1637, when missionaries landed at Assignee near the Gold Coast (now Ghana) border. Early contacts were limited to a few missionaries because of the inhospitable coastline and settlers’ fear of the inhabitants. In the eighteenth century, the country was invaded from present day Ghana by two related Akan groups: (1) the Agnis, who occupied the southeast, and (2) the Baoules, who settled in the central section. In 1843–44, Admiral Bouet-Williaumez signed treaties with the kings of the Grand Bassam and Assinie regions, placing their territories under a French protectorate. French explorers, missionaries, trading companies, and soldiers gradually extended the area under French control inland from the lagoon region. Complete pacification was not accomplished, however, until 1915.6

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Côte d’Ivoire officially became a French colony in 1893. Captain Binger, who had explored the Gold Coast frontier, was named the first governor. He negotiated boundary treaties with Liberia and the United Kingdom (for the Gold Coast) and later started the campaign against Almany Samory, a Malinke king, who fought against the French until 1898. From 1904 to 1958, Côte d’Ivoire was a constituent unit of the Federation of French West Africa. It was a colony and an overseas territory under the French Third Republic. Until the period following World War II, governmental affairs in French West Africa were administered from Paris. France’s policy in West Africa was reflected mainly in its philosophy of “association,” meaning that all Africans in Côte d’Ivoire were officially French “subjects” without rights to citizenship or representation in Africa or France.7 During World War II, France’s Vichy regime remained in control until 1943, when members of General Charles de Gaulle’s provisional government assumed control of all French West Africa. The Brazzaville Conference in 1944, the first Constituent Assembly of the French Fourth Republic in 1946, and France’s gratitude for African loyalty during World War II led to far-reaching governmental reforms in 1946. French citizenship was granted to all African “subjects,” the right to organize politically was recognized, and various forms of forced labor were abolished. A turning point in relations with France was reached with the 1956 Overseas Reform Act (Loi Cadre), which transferred a number of powers from Paris to elected territorial governments in French West Africa and also removed remaining voting inequalities.8 In December 1958, Côte d’Ivoire became an autonomous republic within the French community as a result of a referendum that brought community status to all members of the old Federation of French West Africa except Guinea, which had voted against association. Côte d’Ivoire became independent on August 7, 1960, and permitted its community membership to lapse. Côte d’Ivoire’s contemporary political history is closely associated with the career of Houphouët-Boigny, president of the republic and leader of the Parti Democratique de la Côte d’Ivoire (Democratic Party of Côte d’Ivoire) (PDCI) until his death on December 7, 1993. He was one of the founders of the Rassemblement Democratique Africain (RDA), the leading pre-independence interterritorial political party in French West African territories, except Mauritania.9 Houphouët-Boigny first came to political prominence in 1944 as founder of the Syndicat Agricole Africain, an organization that won improved conditions for African farmers and formed a nucleus for the PDCI. After World War II, he was elected by a narrow margin to the first Constituent Assembly. Representing Côte d’Ivoire in the French National Assembly from 1946 to 1959, he devoted much of his efforts to interterritorial political organization

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and further amelioration of labor conditions. After his 13-year service in the French National Assembly, including almost three years as a minister in the French government, he became Côte d’Ivoire’s first prime minister in April 1959, and the following year he was elected its first president.10 In May 1959, Houphouët-Boigny reinforced his position as a dominant figure in West Africa by leading Côte d’Ivoire, Niger, Upper Volta (now Burkina Faso), and Dahomey (now Benin) into the Council of the Entente, a regional organization promoting economic development. He maintained that the road to African solidarity was through step-by-step economic and political cooperation, recognizing the principle of nonintervention in the internal affairs of other African states. In a region where many political systems are unstable, Côte d’Ivoire showed remarkable political stability from its independence from France in 1960 until late 1999. Under Houphouët-Boigny, Côte d’Ivoire maintained a close political allegiance to the West while many countries in the region were undergoing repeated military coups, experimenting with Marxism, and developing ties with the Soviet Union and China. His successor, President Henri Konan Bédié, was familiar with the United States, having served as Côte d’Ivoire’s first ambassador to the United States. Falling world market prices for Côte d’Ivoire’s primary export crops of cocoa and coffee put pressure on the economy and the Bédié presidency. Government corruption and mismanagement led to steep reductions in foreign aid in 1998 and 1999 and, eventually, to the country’s first coup on December 24, 1999.11 Following the bloodless coup, General Robert Guéi formed a government of national unity and promised open elections. A new Constitution was drafted and ratified by the populace in the summer of 2000. It retained clauses that underscored national divisions between north and south, Christian and Muslim, that had been growing since Houphouët’s death. Elections were scheduled for the fall of 2000, but when the general’s handpicked Supreme Court disqualified all of the candidates from the two major parties, the PDCI and Rassemblement des Republicaines (RDR), Western support and monitors were withdrawn. The RDR called for a boycott, setting the stage for a low election turnout in a race between Guéi and Front Populaire Ivoirien (FPI) candidate Laurent Gbagbo. When early polling results showed Gbagbo in the lead, Guéi stopped the process, claiming polling fraud; disbanded the election commission; and declared himself the winner. Within hours, Gbagbo’s supporters took to the streets of Abidjan. A bloody fight followed, as crowds attacked the guards protecting the presidential palace. Many Gendarmes and soldiers joined the fight against the government junta, forcing Guéi to flee. Having gained the most votes, Gbagbo was declared president. RDR members then took to the streets, calling for fresh elections because the Supreme Court had declared their presidential candidate and all


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the candidates of the PDCI ineligible. More violence erupted, as forces loyal to the new government joined the FPI youth to attack RDR demonstrators. Hundreds were killed in the few days that followed, before RDR party leader Alassane Ouattara called for peace and recognized the Gbagbo presidency.12 On January 7, 2001, another coup attempt shattered the temporary calm. A few weeks later, in the spring, local municipal elections were conducted without violence and with the full participation of all political parties. The RDR, which had boycotted the presidential and legislative elections, won the most local seats, followed by the PDCI and the FPI. Some economic aid from the European Union began to return by the summer of 2001, and the International Monetary Fund (IMF) reengaged the government. Questions surrounding severe human rights abuses by the government during the presidential and legislative elections of 2000 remain unresolved (e.g., the mass grave at Yopougon), but day-to-day life began to return to normalcy. In August 2002, President Gbagbo formed a de facto government of national unity that included the RDR.13 On September 19, 2002, rebellious exiled military personnel and coconspirators in Abidjan simultaneously attacked government ministers and government and military/security facilities in Abidjan, Bouaké, and Korhogo. In Abidjan, government forces stopped the coup attempt within hours, but the attacks resulted in the deaths of Minister of Interior Emile Boga Doudou and several high-ranking military officers. General Guéi was killed under still-unclear circumstances. Almost immediately after the coup attempt, the government launched an aggressive security operation in Abidjan, whereby shantytowns, occupied by thousands of immigrants and Ivorians, were searched for weapons and rebels. Government security forces burned down or demolished a number of these shantytowns, which displaced over 12,000 people.14 The failed coup attempt quickly evolved into a rebellion, splitting the country into two, and escalating into the country’s worst crisis since independence. The rebel group, calling itself the Patriotic Movement of Côte d’Ivoire (MPCI), retained control in Bouaké and Korhogo, and within two weeks moved to take the remainder of the northern half of the country. In mid-October 2002, government and MPCI representatives signed a ceasefire, and French military forces already present in the country agreed to monitor the cease-fire line. In late November 2002, the western part of the country became a new military front with the emergence of two rebel groups: (1) the Ivorian Popular Movement for the Great West (MPIGO) and (2) the Movement for Justice and Peace (MJP). MPIGO and MJP were allied with the MPCI, and the three groups subsequently called themselves the “New Forces.” In January 2003, ECOWAS placed approximately 1,500

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peacekeeping troops from Sénégal (commander), Ghana, Benin, Togo, and Niger on the ground beside the 4,000 French peacekeepers. The troops maintained the east-west cease-fire line dividing the country.15 In late January 2003, the country’s major political parties and the New Forces signed the French-brokered Linas-Marcoussis Accord (LMA), agreeing to a power-sharing national reconciliation government to include New Forces representatives. The parties agreed to work together on modifying national identity, eligibility for citizenship, and land tenure laws, which many observers see as among the root causes of the conflict. The LMA also stipulated a United Nations Monitoring Committee to report on implementation of the accord. Also, in January 2003, President Gbagbo appointed Seydou Diarra as the consensus prime minister. In March 2003, Prime Minister Diarra formed a government of national reconciliation of 41 ministers. The full government did not meet until mid-April, when United Nations Operations in Côte d’Ivoire (UNOCI), or l’Operations des Nations Unies en Côte d’Ivoire (ONUCI), peacekeepers were in place to provide security for the New Forces ministers.16 On July 4, 2003, the government and the New Forces militaries signed an “End of the War” declaration, recognized President Gbagbo’s authority, and vowed to work for the implementation of the LMA and a program of demobilization, disarmament, and reintegration (DDR). On September 13, 2003, six months after the formation of the reconciliation government, President Gbagbo named politically neutral defense and security ministers, after consulting with the political parties and the New Forces. The year 2004 saw serious challenges to the LMA. Violent flare-ups and political deadlock in spring and summer led to the Accra III talks in Ghana. Signed on July 30, 2004, the Accra III Agreement reaffirmed the goals of the LMA with specific deadlines and benchmarks for progress. Unfortunately, those deadlines, late September for legislative reform and October 15 for rebel disarmament, were not met by the parties. The ensuing political and military deadlock was not broken until November 4, when government forces initiated a bombing campaign of rebel targets in the north. On November 6, a government aircraft bombed a French military installation in Bouaké, killing nine French soldiers and one American civilian. Claiming that the attack was deliberate (the Ivorian government said it was a mistake), French forces retaliated by destroying most of the small Ivorian air force. Mayhem ensued for several days, as anti-French mobs rioted in Abidjan and violence flared elsewhere.17 On November 15, 2004, the United Nations Security Council issued an immediate arms embargo on Côte d’Ivoire and gave leaders one month to get the peace process back on track or face a travel ban and a freeze on their assets. In April 2005, South African president Thabo Mbeki invited


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the leaders to South Africa for an AU-sponsored mediation effort. The result was the Pretoria Agreement, signed on April 6, 2005. The Pretoria Agreement formally ended the country’s state of war and addressed issues such as DDR, the return of New Forces ministers to the government, and the reorganization of the Independent Electoral Commission (CEI). A follow-up agreement in June 2005 laid out another framework for disarmament, elections, and the adoption of legislation required under the LMA. In September, the government postponed presidential elections scheduled for October 30, 2005. In October, the United Nations Security Council endorsed an AU decision to extend the Linas-Marcoussis peace process for an additional 12 months.18 The implementation of the LMA has been slow. The New Forces suspended their participation in the power-sharing government from September 2003 to January 2004 because of disagreements over some key issues, including the individuals chosen to serve as ministers of defense and security. In March 2004, the “Marcoussists,” comprising various political parties, including the New Forces, insisted that Gbagbo was stalling on the reconciliation process and announced that they would hold a march for peace and the implementation of the LMA, even though there was a decree prohibiting demonstrations in open spaces. When the march was held on March 25, 2004, the authorities forcibly suppressed it, leaving over 100 people dead in Abidjan. The United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights commissioned an inquiry into the events whose report of April 29, 2004, stated that “indiscriminate killing of innocent civilians and the committing of human rights violations” occurred under the “direction and responsibility of the highest authorities of the state.” Many of the people killed were from Abidjan neighborhoods inhabited mostly by Muslims from the north. Prior to the march, the PDCI, affiliated with the Marcoussists, had suspended its participation in the government; the other Marcoussists followed suit on March 23, 2004.19 In May 2006, initial steps were taken toward disarmament and elections. The government launched a pilot identification program for citizens and foreign residents who did not have birth and nationality certificates. Government and New Forces military formations started “pre-groupment” activities as the first step toward actual disarmament. None of these initiatives were completed, and the October 31, 2006, elections mandated by the United Nations Security Council Resolution 1633 were not conducted. In November 2006, the Security Council issued Resolution 1721 that extended Prime Minister Charles Konan Banny’s mandate for an additional 12 months. Banny was effectively blocked, however, from exercising control over the government as envisioned by the international community. President Laurent Gbagbo closed

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out 2006 with a speech to the nation during which he called for direct talks with the New Forces and the elimination of the Zone of Confidence.20 Following several weeks of closed-door negotiations brokered by Burkinabé president Blaise Compaoré in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, Gbagbo and New Forces leader Guillaume Kigbafori Soro announced on March 4, 2007, that they had accepted to a peace agreement aimed at reunifying the country and holding fresh elections. The Ouagadougou Accord called for a new transitional government and the relaunch of the stalled voter registration process so that elections could be held within ten months. It also mandated the near-immediate elimination of the Zone of Confidence, the DDR of former combatants, and for government and rebel forces to form a joint integrated Command Center that would implement the measures for restructuring the defense and security forces.21 On March 31, 2007, Soro was named prime minister, and several days later, a new cabinet, comprising most of the ministers from the previous cabinet, was named. Since then, UNOCI has withdrawn from within the Zone of Confidence, albeit still positioned on both sides, and six mixed brigades of national Gendarmerie, New Forces, and impartial forces have been established. In September 2007, the Zone of Confidence was dismantled, but both the mixed brigades and impartial forces continue to patrol the ex-Zone of Confidence. On June 29, 2007, Soro’s aircraft was attacked at the Bouake Airport, leaving several persons in his entourage dead, but he managed to escape unharmed. Government ministries—especially health, education, finance, and interior—and their officials are returning to the northern part of the country, as are important economic actors such as banks and utilities. The DDR process of former combatants is taking place on a limited scale. As part of the process, by January 2008, the defense and security forces had completed “regroupment,” while as of early 2009 the New Forces were still going through the process.22 In September 2007, a series of mobile courts began issuing birth certificates to those who never had them as the first step in the identification of voters. In April 2008, the government announced that elections would be held on November 30, 2008. But in early November, the elections were once again postponed with no new date established. In late December 2008, the signatories to the Ouagadougou Accord signed the fourth supplementary agreement to the Ouagadougou Political Agreement (OPA), stipulating that the DDR process was to be completed two months before presidential elections. Identifying and registering citizens continue to be challenges. In its most recent public statement, the CEI announced that voter registration would be extended through the end of April 2009. To date, the CEI has identified about 70 percent of the potential voters.23


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African Union AU peace initiatives in Côte d’Ivoire were more pronounced during the tenure of then South African president Thabo Mbeki as mediator and have been less so since he gave up the position. In September 2002, Mbeki, in his capacity as the chairman of the AU, joined the presidents of Ghana, Guinea-Bissau, Niger, Nigeria, and Togo to form a “contact group” to undertake negotiations between Gbagbo and the rebel groups. But it was not until November and December 2004 that Mbeki held his first talks with both the Ivorian government and the New Forces aimed at reestablishing the LMA as the basis for the resolution of Côte d’Ivoire’s political crisis.24 In April 2005, Mbeki invited Bédié, Diarra, Gbagbo, Ouattara, and Soro to South Africa for an AU-sponsored mediation effort. The result was the Pretoria Agreement signed on April 6, which formally ended Côte d’Ivoire’s state of war and addressed such issues as DDR, the return of New Forces ministers to the government, and the reorganization of the CEI. A follow-up agreement in June laid out another framework for disarmament, elections, and the adoption of legislation required under the LMA. In October, the AU decided to extend the LMA peace process for an additional 12 months; the decision was endorsed by the United Nations Security Council through its Resolution 1633. Following consultation with United Nations secretarygeneral Kofi Annan and then chairman of the AU, former president Olusegun Obasanjo of Nigeria, Mbeki on April 14 issued a statement ruling that the Ivorian Constitutional Council should confirm the candidates of the political parties that signed the LMA. The statement was thereby interpreted as permitting Ouattara’s eventual presidential candidacy.25 At the end of June 2005, Ivorian government and New Forces representatives met in South Africa and agreed on a deadline for the disarmament of pro-government militias by August 20. They also agreed that legislation providing for the establishment of an independent electoral commission was to be enacted by July 15. In mid-July, however, another revised timetable for the disarmament of former rebels and militias was announced, following further negotiations between the conflicting parties.26 On October 18, 2006, the African Union Peace and Security Council (AUPSC) meeting in Addis Ababa agreed that Gbagbo stay in power for another year, with Banny also keeping his position. The then AU president, Denis Sassou Nguesso (president of the Republic of Congo), stated that Banny’s powers would be increased, so that he could do his job more easily. Essentially, this would mean organizing free and fair elections, which would reunite Côte d’Ivoire. Immediately after the announcement, Ivorian opposition parties criticized the peace plan proposed by the African leaders.

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Many of the opposition figures had lost faith in Banny, saying that he caved into pressure from Gbagbo when faced with difficult decisions. What came as a relief to the opposition parties and rebels alike was the resignation of Mbeki as AU mediator in Ivory Coast on his own accord. Ivorian rebels had accused Mbeki of being biased and demanded that the AU name a new mediator. African leaders praised Mbeki for his country having taken a lead role in mediating African conflicts. He was to be replaced by the presidents of ECOWAS (Niger president Mamadou Tandjas) and the AU (Sassou Nguesso). The AU recommendations were handed over to the United Nations Security Council.27 Burkina Faso As the atmosphere of political uncertainty prevailed throughout 2001, some Ivorian government officials, including Gbagbo, made repeated claims that Burkina Faso, Guinea, and Liberia were harboring disgruntled army officers and military contingents that were preparing to stage a coup in Côte d’Ivoire. These rumors led to a rise in harassments of Ivorian citizens in the north and immigrants from Burkina Faso, Guinea, and Liberia, prompting human rights groups to express alarm at the maltreatment. Burkina Faso was eyed by Ivorian government officials the most, probably because Ouattara was said to have held Burkinabè citizenship. In fact, in mid-September 2002, although reports as to the exact identity of mutineers who launched the most serious political crisis in Côte d’Ivoire’s history since independence remained blurry, Gbagbo, following his return to Côte d’Ivoire on September 20 from a state visit to Italy, implied that an unarmed foreign country (widely understood to refer to Burkina Faso) was implicated in the insurgency.28 Ironically, Burkina Faso, a country that some Ivorian government officials had accused of fomenting instability in Côte d’Ivoire and whose immigrants in that country had been harassed and expelled, has ended up playing a pivotal role in the efforts to bring about lasting peace in Côte d’Ivoire. In December 2006, when Gbagbo moved to break the political deadlock by proposing “direct dialogue” with the New Forces within the framework of Resolution 1721, an initiative that was endorsed by Banny and Soro at a mid-January 2007 monthly meeting of the International Working Group (IWG) in Yamoussoukro, it was Burkina Faso president Compaoré whom the ECOWAS and the AU proposed to serve as mediator. The following month, Gbagbo and Soro met for direct talks in Ouagadougou mediated by Compaoré. After many weeks of closed-door negotiations, Gbagbo and Soro announced on March 4, 2007, that they had agreed to a peace agreement aimed at reunifying the country and holding fresh elections. The Ouagadougou Agreement birthed a new transitional government and


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restarted the voter identification and registration process to enable elections to be held within ten months (After years of tergiversations, presidential elections have finally been scheduled for October 31, 2010). The accord stipulated the near-immediate elimination of the Zone of Confidence, the DDR of former combatants, and for government and New Forces troops to form a joint integrated Command Center that would implement the measures for the restructuring of the defense and security forces.29 The agreement also provided for two new bodies to be set up: (1) the Cadre permanent de concertation (CPC), comprising Gbagbo, Soro, Bédié, Ouattara, and Compaoré, and (2) the Comité d’évaluation et d’accompagnement, comprising representatives appointed by Gbagbo, Soro, and Compaoré. It envisaged the formation of a new government by no later than April 8, 2007.30 In mid-March 2007, the government and the New Forces met for a second phase of talks in Ouagadougou, with the focus on designating a new prime minister. Gbagbo nominated Soro to the position and on April 5, Sorro formally took the office. Two days after that, a new, 33-member transitional government was announced, which was dominated by FPI and New Forces figures but retained several members of the previous administration. The following day, Soro gave his first televised address as premier, calling for reconciliation and forgiveness.31 In November 2007, Compaoré mediated a series of meetings between the government and the New Forces, during which the parties agreed to postpone the elections until the second quarter of 2008. Nonetheless, there was disagreement with regard to the awarding of the contract to manufacture and distribute an estimated 8 million new voter cards, which had provisionally been secured by the French company Sagem Sécurité.32 On May 9, 2008, Compaoré presided over the third meeting of the CPC in Yamoussoukro to discuss the deficit in funding for the elections, the cost of which was estimated at 190,000 million francs CFA. Compaoré expressed confidence that the elections would take place as planned on November 30, despite a significant funding shortfall. On May 17, the New Forces commander in Séguéla, Koné Zacharia, boycotted a ceremony to mark the resumption of the DDR process in Kani. He was later dismissed and replaced by Ouattara Issiaka. Zacharia fled to Mali, then to Burkina Faso, where he was reportedly detained by Burkinabè authorities. In late May, Soro urged troops who had deserted but remained loyal to Zacharia to return to their barracks, promising there would be no reprisals.33 Economic Community of West African States Ongoing diplomatic efforts by the ECOWAS to advance the peace process in Côte d’Ivoire appear to have had little short-term success. In early October

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2002, negotiations between MPCI and ECOWAS mediators took place. Meanwhile, Gbagbo announced that the government was prepared to enter into a cease-fire with the rebels, pending their disarmament and a nationwide restoration of governmental authority. The signature of the proposed ceasefire accord by the government, initially scheduled for October 5, however, was delayed twice, and subsequently cancelled. This development precipitated the departure of the ECOWAS contact group from Côte d’Ivoire.34 In January 2003, the ECOWAS placed approximately 1,500 peacekeeping troops from the following West African states: Sénégal (commander), Ghana, Benin, Togo, and Niger. These troops, working alongside 4,000 UNOCI peacekeepers, maintained the east-west cease-fire line, known as the Zone of Confidence, that divides the country. The ECOWAS troops were subsequently subsumed into UNOCI on April 4, 2004. As violent flare-ups and political deadlock in the spring and summer of 2004 threatened the French-brokered LMA, the ECOWAS initiated the ACCRA III talks in late January to affirm the goals of the LMA, stipulating specific deadlines and benchmarks for progress. Unfortunately, these deadlines—late September for legislative reform and October 15 for rebel disarmament—were not met by the disputants.35 Under the auspices of the ECOWAS, Ghana began to play an increasingly vital role as an effective mediator between the conflicting parties. A breakthrough came at the beginning of March 2003 when the MPCI was persuaded to back down on its demands for control of important ministries. A new agreement was signed by the main parties and rebel movements in Accra on March 8 that provided for a six-month peace process involving the deployment of more than 4,000 peacekeeping troops, mainly provided by France, but also including ECOWAS troops. It was also agreed that an international monitoring group would be provided by the ECOWAS, the United Nations, and the AU.36 By April 2008, a 1,260-strong ECOWAS military mission in Côte d’Ivoire (ECOMICI) had been deployed to take over the section of the “front line” near Yamoussoukro from French troops. The intention was that the force would eventually number approximately 3,400, with the additional troops to be deployed in two phases.37 France France is Côte d’Ivoire’s single most important foreign partner. HouphouëtBoigny, who was a minister in the French government prior to his country gaining independence from its colonial master, insisted that his country’s connection with France remain strong. The following concrete examples underscore Franco-Ivorian cooperation: Côte d’Ivoire’s official language is


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French, Côte d’Ivoire has adopted the French legal system, a French marine infantry brigade based in Abidjan assures France’s military presence in the country, thousands of French expatriates continue to live and work in Côte d’Ivoire, and the CFA franc currency is tied to the Euro. In September 2002, however, events strained the relationship, as the Ivorian government criticized France for its perceived failure to uphold its commitment under the 1961 mutual defense treaty by not helping government forces recapture rebel-held territories. Nevertheless, France did send additional forces reaching to approximately 4,000 troops as of fall 2003 to secure the cease-fire line between regular government and rebel forces.38 As mentioned, a mutual defense accord signed with France in 1961 provides for the stationing of French forces in Côte d’Ivoire. France’s 43rd Marine Infantry Battalion is stationed in Fort Bouet adjacent to the Abidjan Airport. As soon as hostilities commenced in September 2002, France established a stabilization force that eventually numbered several thousands under Operation Licorne. Before that, France had 500 troops stationed in Côte d’Ivoire, Thus, when government and MPCI representatives signed a ceasefire in mid-October 2002, French military forces were already present in the country and agreed to monitor the cease-fire line.39 In late January 2003, Côte d’Ivoire’s major political parties and the New Forces signed the French-brokered LMA, agreeing to a power-sharing national reconciliation government to include New Forces representatives and working together on modifying national identity, citizenship eligibility, and land tenure laws, which many observers see as among the root causes of the conflict. The LMA also called for a United Nations Monitoring Committee to report on the implementation of the agreement. Gbagbo appointed Seydou Diarra as the consensus prime minister; in March, Diarra formed a government of national reconciliation of 41 ministers.40 The LMA faced serious challenges in 2004, due to violent flare-ups and political deadlock. As mentioned earlier, on November 6, a government aircraft bombed a French military installation in Bouaké, killing nine French soldiers and one American civilian. Claiming that the attack was deliberate (the Ivorian government said it was a mistake), French forces retaliated by destroying most of the small Ivorian air force. Mayhem ensued for several days as anti-French mobs rioted in Abidjan and violence flared elsewhere. Numerous French establishments in Abidjan, including schools, businesses, and homes, were attacked. French troops entered Abidjan to secure the international airport and to protect French citizens, airlifting many of them out of the city. Some 600 French troops were dispatched to reinforce France’s military presence in Côte d’Ivoire, as diplomatic relations between the two countries remained tense. France subsequently admitted that its forces had killed some 20 Ivorian civilians during the clashes with rioters

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in Abidjan, but Ivorian authorities claimed that the number was significantly higher.41 In 2009, France began a reduction of its troop level in Côte d’Ivoire. It was estimated that by June 2009, French Licorne should number around 900.42 Indeed, as I observed while I was in Côte d’Ivoire, the French troops have been effective in providing stability throughout the country. Their firepower and experience in the country have allowed them to serve as a deterrent to potential aggressors.43 Moreover, direct foreign investment is pivotal in the Ivorian economy, accounting for between 40 and 45 percent of total capital in the country’s firms. France is overwhelmingly the biggest foreign investor in Côte d’Ivoire. In recent years, French investment has accounted for about 25 percent of the total capital in Ivorian enterprises, and between 55 and 60 percent of the total stock of foreign investment capital.44 United Nations Despite its occasional shortcomings, to assert that the United Nations has played a pivotal role in applying pressure on the conflicting parties, when necessary, and providing security and development initiatives in Côte d’Ivoire is hardly a matter of dispute. When Gbagbo made a long-awaited public announcement on February 7, 2003, continuing to resist the terms agreed at Marcoussis, he came under mounting pressure from the United Nations Security Council to honor the agreement. Also, in May of that year, the Security Council’s authorized United Nations Mission in Côte d’Ivoire (MINUCI), which was charge with overseeing the implementation of the Marcoussis Accords. MINUCI became operational in late June. On April 4, 2004, the United Nations Security Council authorized UNOCI under Resolution 1528, which transferred MINUCI’s authority to UNOCI, and subsumed the ECOWAS troops who were already in Côte d’Ivoire under the new mission. When mayhem ensued after French forces destroyed the small Ivorian air force, the United Nations Security Council on November 15 issued an immediate arms embargo on Côte d’Ivoire and gave its leaders one month to get the peace process back on track or face a travel ban and a freeze on their assets.45 An inquiry conducted by the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights later concluded that at least 120 civilians had been killed by Ivorian security forces in a “carefully planned operation” organized by “the highest authorities of the state.” The first contingent of UNOCI forces arrived in Côte d’Ivoire right after the report was released in early April. On November 15, the United Nations Security Council voted unanimously in favor of imposing a French-drafted arms embargo on Côte d’Ivoire.46


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In April 2005, the mandate of UNOCI and French peacekeepers was extended for a period of one month. The mandate was extended for a further month on May 4 and for an interim period of 21 days on June 3, pending a reassessment of the mandate of UNOCI. In late June, the United Nations Security Council agreed to extend the mandate of UNOCI and the French peacekeeping forces for a further seven months, until January 2006, broadening the mandate granted to UNOCI to include an active role in disarmament, support for the organization of elections, and the establishment of the rule of law. The Security Council also authorized an increase of 1,225 troops, enlarging UNOCI to 7,200 men, in addition to the 4,000 French troops. On September 8, Annan announced that the presidential election would not take place in October but would be delayed indefinitely, due to the failure of the country’s political parties to implement the peace accords.47 In October, the Security Council, through its Resolution 1633, endorsed an AU decision to extend the LMA peace process for an additional 12 months. As stipulated in the resolution, a new prime minister, Banny, was selected by the international community and given broad powers designed to reunify the country. Banny selected a new cabinet in December in collaboration with the opposition, Gbagbo, and the New Forces.48 In late January 2006, the United Nations Security Council extended the mandate of UNOCI to December 15 and approved the transfer of an additional 200 peacekeeping troops from Liberia to Côte d’Ivoire. It also extended the arms embargo for one more year. Following five days of talks among the United Nations, the Ivorian army, and the New Forces, the “buffer zone” was officially abolished on April 16. On July 6, the Security Council extended the mandate of UNOCI and the French peacekeeping troops to January 15, 2008, and endorsed the Ouagadougou Accord as the primary instrument of the peace process. On October 29, the Security Council extended sanctions, including arms and diamonds embargos, against Côte d’Ivoire until October 31, 2008, with the condition that sanctions would be lifted once free and fair elections were held.49 In November, the Security Council issued a new resolution, 1721, which extended Banny’s mandate for an additional 12 months. Banny, however, was effectively blocked from exercising control over the government as the international community had envisioned.50 On October 18, 2006, citing what he called the “manifest lack of political will” among the main political leaders in Côte d’Ivoire, in particular their inability to transcend narrow personal and political interests and put national interest first in addressing the core issue of identification of the population, that was undermining the United Nations’ efforts to restore stability and to organize elections in the country, then United Nations secretary-general Kofi Annan issued a report that put Ivorian leaders on notice to make progress

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toward elections. The report recommended that UNOCI be extended for a “last” effort and that if it is fails again, the United Nations—together with the AU and the ECOWAS—should establish a transitional government of eminent local personalities to oversee the process for elections. It also called for those who resorted to calculated obstruction of the peace process, exploited loopholes in the peace agreements, used legal technicalities, or incited violent acts by their followers to be subject to “targeted sanctions” or prosecution by the International Criminal Court. The report added that two task forces should be established to oversee the critical tasks of restructuring the defense and security forces and issuing national identity cards. The task forces should comprise “representatives of the Ivorian parties, of the Prime Minister’s office and the imperial forces, as well as other relevant partners.” The report further stated that UNOCI needed strengthening with more funding and by ensuring that its mandate conveyed on its resident High Representative for the elections that authority for making “binding in determination on all issues pertaining to the electoral process.”51 Following the Ouagadougou Agreement of March 4, 2007, UNOCI withdrew from within the Zone of Confidence, but remained positioned on both sides of the Zone.52 In July 2007, the United Nations was hit by a series of sexual misconduct charges against a group of its peacekeepers in the northern city of Bouaké. The world body immediately suspended the contingent’s activities and confined the accused soldiers to their barracks. Soldiers from Morocco, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Ghana make up the United peacekeeping force in Bouaké, a contingent of about 9,000 troops. Before this particular incident, the organization had imposed a zero-tolerance policy against sexual abuse and exploitation in response to numerous allegations of misconduct by its peacekeeping forces around the world. On July 21, the organization suspended a Moroccan peacekeeping unit of at least 732 soldiers following an investigation into the allegations.53 On November 20, 2007, Choi-Jin of the Republic of Korea was appointed United Nations Special Representative for Côte d’Ivoire. On December 22, 2007, Choi was joined by Gbagbo and Soro at the demobilization of 300 fighters from the New Forces assembled at the barracks in Tiébissou and Djébonoua.54 The French Licorne troops’ primary mission as of 2008 was as a rapid reaction force for UNOCI. Operation Licorne and UNOCI coordinated their activities closely in order to fulfill the terms of the United Nations Security Council resolution 1528 and other subsequent resolutions. The United Nations Security Council passed UNCR 1739 to extend the UNOCI and Licorne mandate until June 2007; UNCR 1765 extended the mandate until


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January 2008, UNCR 1795 extended the mandate until July 2008, and UNCR 1798 extended the mandate until January 31, 2009. On January 27, 2009, UNCR 1865 extended the mandate of UNOCI and Licorne until July 31, 2009. UNOCI troops, however, would be drawn down by 10 percent and Licorne by a significantly higher margin. UNCR 1865 mandated the reduction of authorized military personnel from 8,115 to 7,450.55 In April 2008, the CPC formally adopted the United Nations’ five conditions for elections to proceed: (1) the return of peace across the country, (2) an inclusive political process, (3) equal access to the state media, (4) the completion of accurate voter lists, and (5) the transparent publication of poll results. Later that month, United Nations secretary-general Ban Ki-Moon arrived in Côte d’Ivoire while on a four-nation tour of West Africa, during which he held talks with Compaoré in Ouagadougou. The following day, Ban presided over the signing of a preelection pact by Gbagbo, Soro, Ouattara, and Bédié, which bound all parties to (a) respect the freedom of the press, (b) refrain from campaigning on racial or ethnic grounds, (c) reject violence, and (d) respect the election results. Ban also pledged ongoing United Nations support for the peace process and promised further 27 million Euros in funding. Meanwhile, in support of the demobilization and voter registration process, the United Nations deployed further UNOCI personnel to various areas around the country. Earlier, in late March, UNOCI had reported that it had restored 90 percent of the country’s 10,500 polling stations in preparation for the election.56 As stated previously, the United Nations is also engaged in development initiatives in Côte d’Ivoire. On the main street of Korhogo in the north of Côte d’Ivoire, just next to the newly renovated central circle where the Prefect of Les Savanes regional office is located, is a well-maintained blue and white building that is the regional office of the nongovernmental organization (NGO) Lumière Action and also the home of the Association Lumière Action of Korhogo. The organization has 103 members who are all HIV positive, of whom 57 are living with AIDS. But like the building in which they meet, these patients show no signs of sickness. The patients who need antiretroviral (ARV) medications get them. At a cost of 5,000 CFA per quarter or 20,000 CFA a year, they have access to this life-saving combination of medicinal drugs. As a result of lobbying by their organization and other organizations concerned, the price was set to go down to 12,000 CFA per year.57 As vital as Lumière Action is for offering education, counseling, and advice about living with HIV and AIDS, it has also set out to launch sustainable projects to ensure the economic well-being of its members. The organization recognizes that, although it is important for those with HIV/AIDS to have

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access to ARVs, it is equally important for them to have a fixed income and a good diet in order to sustain life. Through the Project d’Elevage (Animal Husbandry Project), 500 laying hens at the organization’s farm in the center of Korhogo are expected to bring between 100,000 and 175,000 CFA per week. A part of this money is reinvested, but there is still a decent income for the organization, in addition to work for at least three of its members. The Project d’Elevage is one of hundreds of small projects undertaken by UNOCI through its Quick Impact Project (QIP) program. “This is a good example of a long-term Quick Impact Project,” says Brigitte Karekezi, who oversaw UNOCI’s QIP program for the Sector East in Bouaké. “It will provide sustainable development. By investing this capital up front, we help to create something that will assist the members of the association for the years to come,” she adds.58 On October 18, 2006, the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) estimated that more than one million children have been denied an education in Côte d’Ivoire since 2003 due to the political crisis and the attendant economic crisis. UNICEF is trying to improve enrollment with a back-to-school campaign in collaboration with the Ivorian government and other United Nations agencies. The campaign, launched in 2005, has enabled schools to be reestablished in places where parents were unable to invest in their children’s education, particularly in the northern areas of Bouna, Korhogo, and Odienne. UNICEF reported that nearly 2,000 schools were in operation by 2006 compared with just over 800 before the campaign started. It also stated that the number of girls enrolled in school had doubled.59 As I observed during my fieldwork in Côte d’Ivoire, UNOCI has been instrumental in providing security and development initiatives to the country. The acceptance of the UNOCI troops by the citizens is due to the friendly dispositions of the troops and their desire to get to know the average Ivorian. Also, UNOCI’s development initiative reaches the average Ivorian in all parts of the country and empowers women through its bypassing of government red tape and the attendant corruption. It ensures very high accountability, as UNOCI field representatives constantly share their expertise and monitor the projects. An excellent example of a very successful micro-finance initiative is the one run by NGO Notre Enfance and managed by Madame Diomande Nossamba in Bouaké that used to be supervised by UNOCI’s Brigitte Karekezi. This initiative has allowed many citizens, especially women, to develop their own businesses, employ others, and provide micro loans. My discussion of the dedication, skills, and success of Madame Diomande Nossamba on Voice of America worldwide television in Washington, D.C., led to requests by many organizations throughout Africa that wanted to invite her to teach their members how to implement similar initiatives.60


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United States Côte d’Ivoire under Houphouët-Boigny maintained close political allegiance to the United States and other Western states. His successor, Bédié, who was familiar with the United States, having served as Côte d’Ivoire’s first ambassador to Washington, continued his country’s strong ties with America and other Western countries. But following the 1999 military coup in Côte d’Ivoire, U.S. placed restricted non-humanitarian aid to the country under the terms of Section 608 of the U.S. Foreign Assistance Act. However, these restrictions, which were slated to be lifted following the 2000 elections, were left in place because of questionable governmental interference before and during the elections.61 Also, due to the sanctions under Section 608, a modest security assistance program that provided professional training for Ivorian military officers in the United States was suspended. Nonetheless, Ivorian officers continue to participate in continental and regional seminars such as Africa Center for Strategic Studies (ACSS) and ECOWAS programs funded by the U.S. government.62 Unilateral U.S. military activity has been quite limited in Côte d’Ivoire. Only on November 24, 2002, did the United States deploy some 200 special forces to Korhogo in order to airlift foreigners from the rebel-held town in the north.63 Principal U.S. exports to Côte d’Ivoire comprise rice and wheat, plastic material, kraft paper, agricultural chemicals, telecommunications, and oil and gas equipment. Principal U.S. imports from Côte d’Ivoire are cocoa and cocoa products, petroleum, rubber, and coffee.64 The United States has been active in international efforts to assist Côte d’Ivoire overcome its economic and political crises by providing more than 25 percent of the funding for UNOCI. The United States has also provided modest economic support fund (ESF) assistance to promote democracy in Côte d’Ivoire. United States Agency for International Development (USAID) funding, with the exception of self-help and democracy and human rights funds, has been phased out. As one of the 15 focus countries in the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR), however, Côte d’Ivoire remains a major recipient of U.S. assistance for combating HIV/AIDS. With PEPFAR assistance totaling almost $120 million in fiscal year 2009, it is by far the largest U.S. assistance program in Côte d’Ivoire. Due to the actions of the government of Côte d’Ivoire in 2004, the country’s eligibility for the United States African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA) was withdrawn in 2005.65 Nonetheless, Côte d’Ivoire and the United States maintain an active cultural exchange program, through which prominent Ivorian government

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officials, civic leaders, media representatives, educators, artists, and scholars visit the United States to become better acquainted with the American people, and to exchange ideas and views with their American counterparts. In turn, American business and educational institutions, experts in various fields, and Fulbright-Hays scholars visit Côte d’Ivoire. A new U.S. chancellery compound was opened in July 2005.66 The U.S. government has also been working diligently to help prevent the Ivorian conflict from degenerating into a religious one and to promote peaceful relations. In March 2006, the U.S. government invited three clergy to the United States—Muslim Imam Ibrahima Kone, Evangelical Minister Rev. Koffi Tehua Ouattara, and Roman Catholic Priest Rev. Ohua Augustine Oguie—for training in peace and conflict resolution strategies. I was fortunate to serve as one of the trainers during their stop at the American University in Washington, D.C. Since their return to Cote d’Ivoire, the U.S. government has provided these clergy with subsequent training opportunities outside the country. So far, they have been working well together to facilitate peaceful dialogues among the country’s various religious groups.67 Major Transnational Cocoa Companies Modern slavery has been receiving more focus than ever before, partly due to the increased discourse about the negative effects of globalization and an increasingly connected world by which the harsh images of slavery on a farm can be viewed anywhere and everywhere. While there are numerous persons and organizations (as shown in figure 10.1) related to this issue, those with the maximum ability to actually change the situation are unwilling to do so because of personal profit-driven motivations. This section analyzes the actions of cocoa companies after the first major reports of child slavery emerged in the Knight Ridder Newspapers by Sudarsan Raghavan and Sumana Chatterjee in 2001.68 It deals with two major aspects: (1) the actions and motivations of the farmers and (2) the responses by the chocolate corporations and the roles of the government and the New Forces. The use of both salaried and bonded child labor has been a common practice in Côte d’Ivoire. To understand the prevalence of this slavery even after widespread global outcry, one has to consider the situation of the farmers and the two major driving forces for the use of cheap child labor: (1) poverty and (2) the civil war. As noted earlier, until 2007, Côte d’Ivoire was in the midst of a terrible civil war. With the signing of the Accord Politique de Ougadougou on March 4, 2007, the political situation has somewhat normalized. Nonetheless, there are periodic bursts of violence, as was evidenced by the June 2007 assassination attempt on Soro. The travel advisory on the U.S.

$ United states government

Côte d’lvoirian government (president gbagbo) $

$ $ C

P

Rebel forces* (forces nouvelles)

P

P Chocolate corporations

Middlemen

C

P

$

$ Non-governmental/non-profit organizations

Cocoa farmers

*Acts more or less as a political party after the 2007 peace agreement that led to the leader of the rebel forces, Guillaume Soro, becoming Prime Minister.

$ P C

Diagrammatic representation of primary agents in the issue of child slavery

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Figure 10.1

Diminished occurence after 2007 peace agreement Monetary transaction / humanitarian aid / taxes Political pressure / pressure through media or public (consumers) Cocoa

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Department of State’s Web site and the continued stationing of French and UNOCI peacekeepers are further reminders of the country’s potentially volatile situation, especially in the western part, where the security situation continues to be “poor and unpredictable.”69 In addition to the persisting dangerous and volatile situation, another consequence of the civil war was the sectioning of the northern portion of the country by the New Forces, according to my field notes. This led to a severe decline in voluntary migrant labor from Mali and Burkina Faso, thereby impacting the supply of labor. Ivorian cocoa exports have been badly hit by domestic insecurity in recent years.70 The precarious conditions have led to increased reliance on middlemen or brokers for the transportation of cocoa from the farms to the cities and ports. These brokers are protected by the government, as foreign chocolate companies are prohibited from buying cocoa directly from the farmers.71 Local farmers are too poor to take the beans to Abidjan. By relying on the middlemen, they earn a third less than government-set levels but have few options to change this.72 The brokers in the northern region are charged more than their southern counterparts due to the parallel tax system set up by the New Forces. The New Forces’ cocoa blockade, which continues to this day, imposes taxes upon the middlemen who already pay an export tax of CFA220 ($0.49) per kilo of cocoa and a tariff of CFA49.11 ($0.11) per kilo to the Gbagbo government.73 This causes the prices charged to the northern farmers to be much lower than the prices charged to southern farmers, increasing their reliance on cheap labor to bring down their costs. The tense political situation, decline in migrant laborers from 2003 onward, and rising food prices that have led to violent protests in Abidjan have increasingly led farmers to rely on cheap slave labor, which often comprises children both trafficked and sold into this perverse apprenticeship. The profit-related motive here is one of absolute desperateness, one that requires a stable political environment and strong internal infrastructure to resolve.74 Analyzing the role of corporations here is somewhat more complicated. Corporations are only indirectly tied to slavery and the farmers who employ slaves, as can be seen in figure 10.1. They are neither directly responsible for the low government-set prices, nor are they involved in the trafficking of children to these farms. The corporations, however, are the ones with the maximum ability to affect change. As of 2006, it was estimated that the cocoa sector has 650,000 farmers, with an approximate 12,000 slaves. The cocoa industry represents almost 40 percent of the gross domestic product (GDP) and 60 percent of the export revenues of Côte d’Ivoire.75 As such, these corporations do have a major sway in the region. Their monetary support ($20.3 million) for Gbagbo through


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the cocoa union Groupement Professionnel des Exportateurs de Café-Cacao (GEPEX) has helped fund the war effort in the region. The cocoa industries simply need to ask for greater transparency in the management of these donated funds and taxes that they give to the government and ask that some percentage be used to educate and help the farmers, but they have yet to do so. The world cocoa price has continued to rise in the past decade or so. Nonetheless, it is still too low for farmers to make a comfortable living. This low world price can be directly traced to developments in the chocolate corporations in 2001: “Multinational chocolate manufacturers have encouraged more and more developing nations to grow cocoa, forcing down the price and driving cocoa farmers to take desperate measures just to save their land.”76 Fairtrade Foundation, on the other hand, has started cooperatives in the region (only two as of 2006) that are allowing farmers to bypass the middlemen. They also add a $150 premium to the price of cocoa, currently at $2,791 per ton, that is used for social purposes. Eventually, this premium is distributed to the consumers who pay for this extra amount.77 This is a small step that the corporations could adopt that would ultimately have little effect on their costs, although individual bars of chocolate would face a price increase of a few cents. Nestlé, Archer Daniel Mills, and Cargill, the three main corporations in the region, do not as yet have the ability to separate what bean is “slave-free” from those that are not.78 This is because not every cocoa farm uses slaves, and since the corporations buy the cocoa in wholesale from the brokers who deal with farms that employ both paid laborers and slaves, they are unable to identify which cocoa bean is tainted with slavery. Following the Knight Ridder reports, Senator Tom Harkin and Representative Eliot Engel spearheaded the Harkin-Engel Protocol (HEP). Its main goals are to implement global, industry-wide standards and independent monitoring and to ensure public certification and reporting to identify and eliminate forced and slave labor from the cocoa industry. Its initial signatories include the Chocolate Manufacturers Association, the World Cocoa Foundation, Hershey’s, M&M Mars, Nestlé, Archer Daniel Midland, and other chocolate corporations. It has been endorsed by the government of Côte d’Ivoire, International Labor Organization, Free the Slaves, International Cocoa Organization, and others.79 While the initial period of 2001–2005 was largely unsuccessful in accomplishing most of the goals of HEP (except for the formation of the International Cocoa Board), from late 2007 to 2008, noticeably after the signing of the 2007 peace agreement, the corporations realized the following:80 (a) recruited Verité—a U.S.-based nonprofit that provides solutions to labor abuses—which, after a series of meetings, did complete a successful one on

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strengthening child labor protection in West Africa and explored ways to ensure that independent verification further strengthens efforts to eliminate child and forced labor in cocoa; (b) formation of the International Cocoa Initiative foundation that has begun to form partnerships with NGOs in order to provide social protection programs in West Africa; (c) committed to the dedication of more than “$5 million annually to support the full implementation of the certification system for cocoa farming labor practices, and for programs to improve the well-being of the more than 1.5 million farm families.” Although these commendable steps were taken, Senator Harkin, in his October 2007 statement, noted that while serious discussions had been taking place recently between Ivorian government officials and the cocoa corporations, they have however not included any NGO. He also noted that the “industry-implemented certification process lacks a benchmark system” and was skeptical “about the independence of the verification component.”81 While the industry has begun taking major steps for alleviating this issue, it is questionable whether it would have done the same without governmental pressure. Since the HEP was implemented only three months after the Knight Ridder reports were first published, although earlier reports had arisen that prompted no action, it is hard to say what the response of the corporations would have been without the HEP. Increased accountability, monitoring the supply chain, and higher prices are the key to reducing the reliance on bonded child labor. By introducing more transparency into its operations, the Ivorian government would be led to better manage the cocoa revenues. Additionally, increased monitoring of the supply chain would allow the companies to separate the cocoa from the New Forces-controlled north.82 While an initial barring of imports from the north may hurt the farmers, it would also stop funding the continued violence in the region and hopefully lessen the appeal of controlling the cocoa trade routes. The 2002 war was a major turning point for Ivorian politics. Even after the creation of the joint government in 2007, the New Forces in the north and the national government continue to use cocoa taxes to fund their causes. The rampant corruption of the Gbagbo government and the exploitation of natural resources have contributed to the farmers’ continued poverty. Already mired in poverty, the taxes on trade and transport in the north that are part of the parallel system of taxation (to which the corporations are also subject) only further increase the farmers’ costs and their reliance on cheap and illegal forms of labor.83 Roberto Rensi, a Côte d’Ivoire expert at the European Union headquarters in Brussels, says: “The whole Ivorian crisis can be translated into a struggle among different forces and the exclusion of part of the population


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in accessing these resources . . . sorting out cocoa would enormously decrease, if not deprive, this conflict of its fuel.”84 Transparency International’s Corruption Perception Index (CPI) for 2007 (published in 2008)85 gave the nation of Côte d‘Ivoire a CPI score of 2.1 out of 10, where 10 refers to absolute transparency in governmental and political affairs. A lack of transparency makes it harder for NGOs to monitor the occurrence of slavery and to remedy the situation. A corruption level this high also takes more money away from the local farmers and gives it instead to the political elite and bureaucracy. In 2007, Gbagbo called for an investigation into the “alleged embezzlement of hundreds of millions of dollars in the cocoa sector.” No results have come forth as of yet; it is unlikely that the inquiry will uncover anything substantial, since the Gbagbo government is also definitely guilty of the practice, albeit the scale of this embezzlement can be debated.86 Although numerous sources have pointed out the connection between the cocoa trade and the continued violence, the peace talks and agreements between Gbagbo’s government and the New Forces do not mention this or any agreement over the control of natural resources. This, in addition to the corruption of the government, the parallel tax system in the north, and the mismanagement of funds from the cocoa corporations through boards and institutions like the Bourse du Café at Cacao,87 has made it too difficult for the government to promote the interests of the farmers in any tangible manner. That Ivorian cocoa is important to the industry is hardly a mater of dispute. Some years ago, the Ivorian producers blamed chocolate companies for keeping cocoa prices low and African farmers in poverty. The chocolate companies justify their action by claiming that the Ivorian producers were sending them a shoddy product. While the billion-dollar chocolate industry might keep Western manufacturers and consumers happy, an International Institute of Tropical Agriculture (IITA) study found that annual West African cocoa revenues average between $30 and $110 per household, making it difficult for families to have sufficient income to meet their needs.88 Indeed, the Ivorian cocoa supply is crucial to the world market, considering that Ivory Coast accounts for around 40 percent of the world cocoa production.89 American companies ADM and Cargill, the French company CEMOI, the Swiss company Barry Callebeaut, and the Ivorian company Pronibex are the core multinational companies engaged in the Ivorian cocoa trade. The Netherlands and the United States are the main destinations for Ivorian cocoa. The largest cocoa and coffee exporters’ union, GEPEX, is one of the primary cocoa institutions asserting its interests within the Ivorian conflict. In a population of roughly 16 million, 3–4 million people are involved in the cocoa sector, which captures how heavily the Ivorian state responds

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to the global demand for cocoa.90 Approximately 10 percent of Ivorian cocoa is grown in the New Forces-controlled northern region. Côte d’Ivoire’s outward-oriented economy depends on its foreign earnings on cocoa, and access to the proceeds of this primary product allows for economic freedom, from which the New Forces and the Ivorian government benefit. Former Ivorian prime minister Pascal Affi n’Guessan stated that chocolate companies were only interested in their own profits.91 Multinational companies are always trying to lower prices to the lowest common denominator. It is in their corporate interest to do so, but in seeking such bargains, morality is compromised. Political turmoil can take a negative toll on world cocoa prices, which forces producers and distributors to rely on alternative and informal markets in order to preserve corporate economic integrity. If there is no marketing board that regulates and promotes transparency, an underworld of illicit trade and unfair practices is allowed to thrive. Lack of accountability for fair trade practices and labor laws gives multinational companies more flexibility and profitable transactions. President Laurent Gbagbo thanked national cocoa institutions for contributing at least $20 million toward the war effort.92 The GEPEX’s vested interest in the cocoa-producing region is illustrated by this sizable sum, which was used to buy weapons and fight rebel factions. Reports of government killings in civilian towns along with other human rights violations followed this generous contribution. During the second- and third-quarters of the 2005–2006 cocoa season, price fluctuations occurred, resulting in a strong demand for cocoa beans. Cocoa production in Côte d’Ivoire dropped in the 2004–2005 fiscal year but increased the following year, which implies a return to stable cocoa production.93 With 10 percent of Ivorian cocoa in the New Forces zone, how is the cocoa market being neutralized? The situation strongly suggests that there is an informal economy thriving in northern Côte d’Ivoire enabled by smuggling operations between neighboring countries, for example, Burkina Faso and Togo. The New Forces has slowly established its own cocoa tax system and other relevant institutions in order to function independently from the Ivorian government. Furthermore, the New Forces has instituted a cocoa blockade in order to prevent northern cocoa from reaching the south. Global Witness estimates cocoa revenues supplying the New Forces for the past four years to be at $30 million. The significant income that cocoa, along with other natural resources, provides the New Forces is a deterrent to the peace process because it creates economic incentives to remain partitioned. A profitable question that emerges here is the following: what are the implications of the activities of these major cocoa companies for sustainable peace in Côte d’Ivoire? Abdelilah Benkirane, commercial director of the Society of Commercial Agricultural Producers of Daloa, was reported as


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saying that no one should blame the farmers for exploiting the workers because the farmers have no influence on the global system and the system dictates the price (author’s field notes). Regardless of how the media weave the Ivorian crises into the core of the Ivorian conflict, external variables sustain the conflict. As Benkirane was again reported as noting, labor laws are not enforced and the ground reality is a response to global markets (author’s field notes). It is with this rationale that the New Forces and the Ivorian government are able to support their military activities and the human rights violations that ensue. To achieve sustainable peace, the intersection of human rights and economics must be considered during negotiations. The latest United Nations Security Council resolution, 1739, focuses primarily on disarmament and demobilization but makes no mention of the economic dimensions of the conflict, an omission that undermines the impact of the UN resolution in the reconciliation process.94 Regardless of the internal conflict, both the New Forces and the Ivorian government are profiting from the country’s participation in the international cocoa exchange market, both the New Forces and the Ivorian government are profiting regardless of the internal conflict. Commitment to sustainable peace is at stake when both parties are, seemingly, comfortable with the corrupt conditions sustaining the political stalemate. This is hardly unique to the Ivorian cocoa crisis. Similarly, in South Kivu, the disarmament process has been met by conflicting economic interests of neighboring Rwanda.95 The exploitation of natural resources in the Kivu region has prolonged the peace process due to the economic imperatives of clashing factions, including state-sponsored renegade armies. Ignoring the centrality of war economics in the Ivorian conflict promises the eventuality of political and military relapse. With a growing informal sector in the background of a sluggish peace process, measures to ensure transparency are necessary and urgent. In the event of elections, there needs to be a guarantee or safeguard that the New Forces’ economic institutions will not have the resiliency to revive its informal economy in order to fund military activity. The government should be subject to similar measures that allocate cocoa revenues to infrastructural needs and social programs rather than for defense spending. Cocoa exporters need to make their purchasing systems fairer and sustainable for small cocoa farmers, whose exploitation has served to enslave others. Conclusion and Recommendation For more than three decades after independence under the leadership of its first president, Houphouët-Boigny, Côte d’Ivoire was conspicuous for its religious and ethnic harmony. Its economy was among the most developed on the African continent. All this ended when the late Guéi led a

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coup that toppled Houphouët-Boigny’s successor, Bédié, in 1999. Bédié fled after planting the seeds of ethnic discord by trying to stir up xenophobia against Muslim northerners, including his main rival, Ouattara. This strategy was also adopted by Guéi, who had Ouattara banned from the presidential election in 2000 because of his alleged foreign parentage, and by the only serious contender allowed to run against Guéi, Gbagbo. When Gbagbo replaced Guéi after he was deposed in a popular uprising in 2000, violence replaced xenophobia. Scores of Ouattara’s supporters were killed after their leader called for new elections. In September 2002, a military mutiny escalated into a full-scale rebellion, voicing the ongoing discontent of northern Muslims, who felt that they were being discriminated against in Ivorian politics. Thousands were killed in the conflict. Although the fighting has stopped, Côte d’Ivoire remains tense and divided. French and United Nations peacekeepers patrol areas within both sides of the Zone of Confidence which separates the north, held by the New Forces, and the government-controlled south. Peace talks brokered by other African nations and France have, so far, failed to reunite the country. The political outlook for Côte d’Ivoire is uncertain. The efforts of the international community initially seemed to be making progress, notably with the creation of a new government of national unity. The new government, however, experienced its first crisis over the issue of the extension of parliament’s mandate. This was a reminder that major disagreements are possible on a wide range of institutional, legal, and political issues and that the actual holding of elections would remain a tall order. Considerable international commitment is still needed. Meanwhile, Côte d’Ivoire will remain split into two into the near future, particularly since there are interests on both sides that are benefiting from the partition, although the ongoing presence of international peacekeepers makes it likely that full-scale military conflict will be held at bay. Considering the political impasse, any economic recovery will remain distant and real GDP is forecast to stagnate, with donors unwilling to make substantive commitments until a durable peace has been established. Despite the bleak assessment, I saw signs for hope during my fieldwork in Côte d’Ivoire. First, the military personnel in the south of Côte d’Ivoire seemed to be relatively tenser than those in the north. While there were considerably more checkpoints in the south than in the north, the civilian populations in both regions appeared to have put the war behind them and were living their lives in relative normalcy.96 Second, the relatively younger cabinet ministers such as former delegate minister of communication Martine Coffi-Studer and minister of tourism and artisans Amadou Kone seemed to have had a positive effect on their fellow Ivorians. They had been able to facilitate communication between the


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various conflicting parties, and the younger Ivorians saw them as affable role models.97 Finally, the ethnic composition and excellent performance of the Ivorian soccer team in the pre – and World Cup tournaments were a boost to the morale of the country. It made most Ivorians realize that when they transcended ethnic differences, they could achieve greatness. It also brought a calm and joy to the country, as everyone rooted for the team.98 For Côte d’Ivoire to witness lasting peace, Gbagbo, Bédié, Ouattara, and Soro should be discouraged from running in the next presidential election: The first three have declared their candidacy to the October 2010 presidential elections, while the later—Soro—has decided to seek the presidency. If all of these men run, or any one of them is excluded from running while one or more of the others run, Côte d’Ivoire will be engulfed in another civil war. Instead, the Ivorian government should make arrangements for these men to be pensioned, provided security, and put to work for the country as elder statesmen. They have many connections outside Côte d’Ivoire, which they can utilize for the good of the country. Former presidents Nelson Mandela and Frederik Willem de Klerk of South Africa are good examples of this strategy.

Notes 1. Abdul Karim Bangura, “Overstating the Connection between Ethnicity and Military Coups d’état in Africa: A Meta-analysis,” in Ethnicity and Sociopolitical Change in African and Other Developing Countries, ed. S. C. Saha (Lanham, MD: Rowan and Littlefield, 2008); Abdul Karim Bangura, “Explaining and Predicting the Causes of Military Coups d’état in Africa: A Meta-analysis,” in Research Methodology and African Studies, ed. A. K. Bangura (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1994); Thomas H. Johnson, Robert O. Slater and Patrick J. McGowan, “Explaining African military coups d’état, 1960–1982,” American Political Science Review 78 (1984): 622–640; Patrick J. McGowan, “Predicting Political Instability in Tropical Africa,” in Quantitative Techniques in Foreign Policy Analysis and Forecasting, ed. M. K. O’Leary and W. D. Coplin (New York: Praeger, 1975); Patrick J. McGowan and Thomas H. Johnson. “Forecasting African Coups d’état,” The South African Journal of Political Science 12, no. 2 (1985): 3–22; Orkand Corporation, Analysis of the Cause of Coups d’état in Sub-Saharan Africa, 1960–1982 (Silver Spring, MD: Orkand Corporation, 1983); William R. Thompson, “Explanations of the Military Coup” (Unpublished Doctoral Dissertation, University of Washington, 1972); William R. Thompson, “Regime Vulnerability and the Military Coup,” Comparative Politics 7 (1975): 459–487; Alan Wells, “The Coups d’état in theory and Practice: Independent Black Africa in the 1960s,” American Journal of Sociology 79, no. 4 (1974): 871–887.

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2. David E. Apter, “Nkrumah, Charisma and the Coup,” Daedelus (Summer, 1969); A. B. Assensoh and Yvette Alex-Assensoh, African Military History and Politics: Ideological Coups and Incursions, 1900-Present (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002); Simon Baynham “Equatorial Guinea: The Terror and the Coup!” The World Today (February, 1980): 65–71; Anton Bebler, Military Rule in Africa: Dahomey, Ghana, Sierra Leone and Mali (New York: Praeger, 1972); S. R. David, Defending Third World Regimes from Coups d’État (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1985); Ruth First, Power in Africa (New York: Pantheon Books, 1970); H. J. Fisher, “Elections and Coups in Sierra Leone, 1967,” The Journal of Modern African Studies (December, 1969): 611–636; Richard A. Higgott and Finn Fuglestad, “The 1964 Coup d’état in Niger: Towards an Explanation,” The Journal of Modern African Studies 13 (1975): 383–398; Gus J. Liebenow, “The Liberian Coup in Perspective,” Current History (March 1981): 101–134; Michael F. Lofchie, “The Uganda Coup—Class Action by the Military,” The Journal of Modern African Studies (May, 1972): 19–35; Issaka K. Souaré, Civil wars and Coups d’État in West Africa: An Attempt to Understand the Roots and Prescribe Possible Solutions (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2006); Emmanuel Terray, “Les revolutions Congolese et Dahomeens de 1963: Essai d’interpretations,” Revue Française de Science Politique 14 (1964): 917–942; T. Y. Wang, “Arms Transfers and Coups d’état: A Study on Sub-Saharan Africa,” Journal of Peace Research 35, no. 6 (1998): 659–675; Claude E. Welch, Jr., ed., Soldier and State in Africa: A Comparative Analysis of Military Intervention and Political Change (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1970); Claude E. Welch, Jr. “Soldier and State in Africa,” The Journal of Modern African Studies 5 (1967): 305–322; Miles D. Wolpin, “Legitimizing State Capitalization: Malian Militarism in Third-World Perspective,” Journal of Modern African Studies 18 (1980): 106–128; Tatiana Yannopoulos and Denis Martin, “Regimes militaires et classes sociales en Afrique noire,” Revue Française de Science Politique 79 (1972): 847–886; Ekkart Zimmerman, “Toward a Causal Model of Military Coups d’état,” Armed Forces and Society 5 (1979): 387–413; Ekkart Zimmerman, “Explaining Military Doups d’état: Towards the Development of a Complex Causal Model,” Quality and Quantity 13 (1979): 431–441. 3. Mory Famanta, “Mali of Great Empires: Ghana, Mali and Songhai Empires,” in Mali Past and Present, ed. Mali Ministry of Education (Bamako, Mali: Ministry of Education Publications, 2003). 4. John G. Jackson, Introduction to African Civilizations (New York, NY: Carol Publishing Group, 1993). 5. Famanta, “Mali of Great Empires”; Jackson, Introduction to African Civilizations. 6. Patricia Sheehan, Cote d’Ivoire 2nd ed. (New York, NY: Benchmark Books, 2000). 7. Ibid. 8. Alex Thomson, Introduction to African Politics 2nd ed. (London, UK: Taylor and Francis, Inc., 2004). 9. Ibid.


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10. United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire” (Washington, D.C.: Bureau of African Affairs, May 2009). Retrieved on June 26, 2009 from http://www.state.gov. 11. Ibid. 12. Ibid. 13. International Crisis Group, “Côte d’Ivoire: Halfway Measures Will Not Suffice,” Africa Briefing No. 33 (October 12, 2005). Retrieved on March 26, 2006 from http://www.crisisgroup.org/home/index.cfm?id=3746&l=1. 14. Ibid. 15. Thompson, Introduction to African Politics. 16. United States Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), World Fact Book. Online Version (January 10, 2006). Retrieved on February 20, 2006 from http://www.cia. gov/cia/publications/factbook/geos/iv.html. 17. United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.” 18. International Crisis Group, “Côte d’Ivoire.” 19. http://www.multied.com/nationbynation/Ivory%20Coast/History2.html. 20. United States Department of State “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.” 21. Ibid. 22. Ibid. 23. Ibid. 24. Edward George, “Côte d’Ivoire: Recent History,” Africa South of the Sahara 38th ed. (London, UK and New York, NY: Routledge, Taylor and Francis Group, 2009). 25. Ibid. 26. George, “Côte d’Ivoire: Recent History”; United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.” 27. allAfrica.com. “Africa: AUOSC 64th Meet Discusses Côte d’Ivoire Crisis” (October 18, 2006). Retrieved on October 19, 2009 from http://allafrica. com/stories/200610180543.html; Mail and Guardian, “Mbeki Ends Côte d’Ivoire Mediation Role (October 19, 2006). Retrieved on October 19, 2009 from http://www.mg.co.za/articlePage.aspx?articleid=287036&area=/break . . .; allAfrica.com. October 18, 2006. Côte d’Ivoire: AU hands down new peace blueprint. Retrieved on October 19, 2009 from http://allafrica.com/stories/ 200610180727.html; Reuters, “A. Africa’s Mbeki Ends Ivory Coast Mediation Role” (October 18, 2006). Retrieved on October 19, 2006 from http://www. alertnet.org/thenews/newsdesk/L1828338.htm; Franz Wild. “Opposition Criticizes Ivory Coat Peace Plan” (October 18, 2006). Voice of America News, Retrieved on October 19, 2006 from http://www.newsvoa.com. 28. George, “Côte d’Ivoire: Recent History.” 29. United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.” 30. George, “Côte d’Ivoire: Recent History.” 31. Ibid. 32. Ibid. 33. Ibid. 34. Ibid.

244 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43.

44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51.

52. 53.

54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59.

60. 61.

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United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.” George, “Côte d’Ivoire: Recent History.” Ibid. George, “Côte d’Ivoire: Recent History”; United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.” Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.” Abdul Karim Bangura, Côte d’Ivoire: A Report (a field report presented to the United Nations Operations in Côte d’Ivoire office in Abidjan) (Washington, D.C.: Center for Global Peace, School of International Service, American University, 2006). United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.” Ibid. George, “Côte d’Ivoire: Recent History.” Ibid. United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.” George, “Côte d’Ivoire: Recent History.” United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.” United Nations News Service, “Côte d’Ivoire: UN Report Puts Leaders on Notice to Make Progress towards Elections” (October 18, 2006). Retrieved on October 19, 2006 from http://allafrica.com/stories/200610180730.html. United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.” Voice of American News, “UN Investigates Sexual Misconduct Charges against Ivory Coast Peacekeepers” (July 26, 2007a). Retrieved on July 26, 2007 from http://www.voanews.com/english/2007-07-26-voa11.cfm; Voice of American News, “UN Suspends Moroccan Peacekeepers after Sexual Misconduct Allegations in Ivory Coast” (July 21, 2007). Retrieved on July 26, 2007 from http://www.voanews.com/english/2007-07-21-voa30.cfm; Voice of American News, “UN Probes Sexual Misconduct Charges of Ivory Coast Peacekeepers” (July 21, 2007). Retrieved on July 21, 2007 from http://www. voanews.com/english/2007-07-21-voa9.cfm. George, “Côte d’Ivoire: Recent History.” United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.” George, “Côte d’Ivoire: Recent History.” ONUCI Feature, “Le soutien concret et de long terme de l’ONUCI aux Ivoiriens vivant avec le VIH/SIDA,” Históire de la Mission (2005, 040). Ibid. United Nations Integrated Regional Information Networks, “Côte d’Ivoire: Schools Reopen in North and South” (October 18, 2006). Retrieved on October 19, 2006 from http://allafrica.com/stories/200610180627.html. Bangura, Côte d’Ivoire: A Report. United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.”

International Actors and Côte d’Ivoire 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68.

69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74.

75.

76. 77.

78. 79.

80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85.

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Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Bangura, Côte d’Ivoire: A Report. S. Raghavan and S. Chatterjee, “A Taste of Slavery,” Knight Ridder Newspapers (June 24, 2001). Retrieved on April 18, 2007 from http://vision.ucsd.edu/∼ kbranson/stopchocolateslavery/atasteofslavery.html. United States Department of State, “Background Note: Cote d’Ivoire.” Africa Bulletin Report, October 2008. Retrieved on April 22, 2008 from http:// www.mediablackberry.com. Kevin Bales, Ending Slavery (London, UK: University of California Press, 2007). Elizabeth Bryant, “Ivory Coast Conflict Exposes the Darker Side of Chocolate,” San Francisco Chronicle (November 11, 2007), p. A-17. Africa Bulletin Report. BBC News, “Riots Prompt Ivory Coast Tax Cuts” (BBC News. April 2, 2008). Riots prompt Ivory Coast tax cuts. Retrieved on April 14, 2008 from http://www. bbc.co.uk Retrieved on April 14, 2008 from http://www.bbc.co.uk. Foreign Commonwealth Office of the United Kingdom, “Côte d’Ivoire” (January 2, 2008). Retrieved on April 2, 2008 from http://www.fco.gov.uk/en/ about-the-fco/country-profiles/sub-saharan-africa/ivory-coast/?profile=economy &pg=2. Brooke Shelby Biggs, “Slavery Free Chocolate?” AlterNet (February 7, 2002). Retrieved April 22, 2008 from http://www.alternet.org/story/12373/?page=2. Dow Jones Newswire, “Ivory Coast Fairtrade Cocoa Co-Op Sets Up Swiss Subsidiary” (January 1, 2008). Retrieved on March 28, 2008 from http://www. flex-news-food.com/pages/13425/Cocoa/Ivory-Coast/Switzerland/ivory-coastfairtrade-cocoa-co-op-sets-swiss-subsidiary-dj.html. Economics of Cocoa, 2008. Retrieved on February 16, 2008 from http://en. wikipedia.org/wiki/Labor_exploitation_in_the_chocolate_industry. Congressional Research Service, CRS Report for Congress: Child Labor in West African Cocoa Production: Issues and U.S. Policy (2008). Retrieved on March 30, 2008 from http://www.nationalaglawcenter.org/assets/crs/RL32990.pdf. Ibid. Ibid. Global Witness, Hot Chocolate: How Cocoa Fuelled the Conflict in Cote d’Ivoire, June 2007 Report (Global Witness Publishing, 2007). Mail and Guardian, “Rebels Still Rule Ivorian North” (March 31, 2008). Retrieved on April 4, 2008 from http://www.mg.co.za. Bryant, “Ivory Coast Conflict.” Transparency International, “Corruption Perceptions Index 2007” (February 2, 2008). Retrieved on April 22, 2008 from http://www.transparency.org/policy_ research/surveys_indices/cpi/2007. Global Witness, Hot Chocolate.

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87. Ibid. 88. Flex News, “FCC Worried about Poor Ivory Coast Cocoa Quality,” Dow Jones Newswire (March 31, 2008). Retrieved on August 23, 2008 from http://www. flex-news-foof.com/console/PageViewer.aspx?page=153. . . . 89. Global Witness, Hot Chocolate. 90. Ibid. 91. Humphrey Hawksley, “Ivory Coast Accuses Chocolate Companies” BBC News (2001). Retrieved on March 10, 2008 from http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/ 1311982.stm. 92. Global Witness, Hot Chocolate. 93. International Cocoa Organization, Annual Report 2005–2006 (2006). Retrieved on March 24, 2008 from http://www.icco.org/pdf/An_report/anrep0506 english.pdf. 94. United Nations, UNOCI Mandate (2007). Retrieved on April 18, 2008 from http://www.un.org/Depts/dpko/missions/unoci/mandate.html. 95. Denis M. Tull, “The Democratic Republic of Congo: Militarized Politics in a Failed State,” in African Guerillas: Raging Against the Machine, ed. M. Boås and K. C. Dunn (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc, 2007). 96. Bangura, Côte d’Ivoire: A Report. 97. Ibid. 98. Ibid.

CHAPTER 11

A Crisis with an Origin: Proposing a Framework for Local and International Engagement in Zimbabwe Mambo G. Mupepi

Introduction This chapter discusses some of the historical and political perspectives leading to the current economic crisis in Zimbabwe and proposes a framework to reconstruct its economy. From the early inception of colonialism to contemporary Zimbabwe, there are three major contending forces. The first is the claim by the Zimbabwean government embedded in the discourse of “patriotic history,” in which the acquisition of land is seen as the third phase in the liberation of Zimbabwe. The second is the assertion by the landoccupying European settlers, who insist that the land acquisition violated their constitutional rights to land ownership. The third force is the land factor, which has drawn much international attention and has two dimensions: the Euro-American and Pan-African. The Euro-American perspective actively advocates the position of the European farmers and democratic governance. The Pan-African position silently endorses President Robert Mugabe’s land acquisition program, regarded largely as irreversible; a ratio decidendi in fluid, colonial Africa; and a continuously unfolding drama of Africa’s engagement of its colonial legacy. Today, at least 90 percent of the land has been redistributed to Zimbabwean citizens who, at best, have neither the capacity nor the resources to sustain the comparative cost ratios that once made the country Africa’s breadbasket. The discourse reflects that the crisis is much influenced by the historical past and highly contested but can allow

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the advancement of a framework for local and international engagement to facilitate the reconstruction of Zimbabwe. Organization of the Chapter This chapter is organized into five parts. The objective of the first section is to provide an introduction to the historical and political discourse in Zimbabwe. It also introduces selected events leading to the present crisis in Zimbabwe. The second section’s objective is to provide the perspectives of the European settlers. The third section attempts to provide the views of the ruling party, Zimbabwe African National Union-Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF). The fourth section has three objectives: the first discusses Pan-African views on the independence of African states, the second provides some of the AngloAmerican perspectives, and the third discusses the Global Political Agreement signed in Harare in 2008. The fifth section proposes Organization Development interventions that can be deployed to advance strategies to rebuild Zimbabwe’s economy. An Overview of the Discourse on Zimbabwe Arrival of the Europeans In this discourse, the historical perspective is important for three reasons. First, the rhetoric of modernization in Zimbabwe owes its origin to the European settlers who punctured an uninfluenced cultural existence since the arrival of Father Gonzales Da Silveira in 1544. James Kendal asserts that his arrival introduced a new culture, such as the Christian religion and formal education.1 Second, the arrival of European missionaries introduced a Christian foundation, particularly the Anglo-American religiosity and political discourse that exist in Zimbabwe today and that differentiate the country from other African states. Third, the discourse helps to identify and define the prevailing culture, which can enable the advancement of sustainable change in Zimbabwe. Three Racial Groups There are three racial groups that settled in Zimbabwe during the eighteenth century, and those groups are part of Zimbabwean citizenry today. One group is the Nguni, people of the Zulu nation in South Africa, led by Mzilikazi Khumalo, referred to as the Matabele tribe, who crossed the Limpopo River in 1827 and settled in present day Bulawayo, Matabeleland. The Matabele

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are the first group. This group sought new pastures for beef farming and confronted the Shona people, the owners and rulers of Zimbabwe at that time. Mudenge2 and Mutswairo3 indicate that the Ndebele were an aggressive tribe who raided and robbed the Shona people from time to time. Mutswairo contests that the hostilities continued until the Europeans arrived in the country in the 1890s. In Mudenge,4 the Voer Trekkers arrived in Great Zimbabwe after the Ndebele had settled in the Nyajeka and Chibi area in present day Matabeleland. The Voer Trekkers were a people of Dutch origin and were referred to as Afrikaners or Boers. Mudenge asserts that the Dutch crossed the Limpopo River in 1866, settling in the Chipinga area in the eastern highlands and Chivhu in the Midlands. They are the second group. The English settlers, commonly referred to as the Pioneer Column, form the third group. These three groups, together with the Shona or Rozvi people, form the main background of Zimbabwean citizenry today. The Historical Leaders of Zimbabwe Propositions made by Isaacman and Isaacman indicate that the Chingayira Makoni, Kadungure Mapondera, and Nehanda Nyakasikana are direct descendants of the Mutapa family.5 They share the same totem “Mhofu or Nyati.” Such identification is important in pinpointing the historical leadership of the land and in determining at what point in history the land ownership changed hands. The traditional distribution of land in Zimbabwe is the bone of contention in the government of ZANU-PF, led by Robert Mugabe. Prior to the questionable transfer of land from Lobengula to Cecil John Rhodes’ British South Africa Company (BSAC), land in Zimbabwe was owned by the chiefs and kings of Zimbabwe. The totem system depicted the relatedness and land ownership of the groups of the Rozvi people. Today all that has been made irrelevant, has produced undesirable nepotism in the public services, and has brought about great resistance to democracy, but the truth of what transpired should be told. The culture brought by colonization, such as democracy, Christian religion, the English Language, Western education, and capitalism, can enable a community to share the same objectives for creating reality. The crisis in Zimbabwe had its roots in such historical beginnings, particularly on matters concerning land ownership. The European Settlers’ Perspective Bundle suggests that the focus of British colonization was on exploiting the world’s resources by leveraging Christianity with exploitation.6 Brendon contends that British colonization discourse projects an advanced nation that

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possessed sufficient resources and power to do anything it wanted in Africa.7 Britain and other imperial countries, such as France, Belgium, Portugal, and the Netherlands, are credited with the introduction of civilization and Christianity to the African continent. Brendon argues that it was perceived by the colonists and British administrations then to be the duty of Britain and its secular organizations to educate the local people using mostly religious curricula, an education that enabled the transference of some of the technology from Britain to the colonies worldwide.8 Bundle asserts that W. E. B. Du Bois was the most prominent intellectual African American leader and political activist in the first half of the twentieth century; he saw the injustices that had existed in Christian organizations in America and Africa.9 The Europeans migrating to Africa were similar to those going to the Americas. They carried their material assets and intellectual property in the form of religion and knowledge. Bundle argues that Du Bois carried on a dialogue with civic leaders about discrimination and democracy as a way to improve not only African American life, but of all the peoples of the African continent and Diaspora. He is referred to as the “Father of Pan-Africanism.”10 Company Rule in Zimbabwe: Apartheid Policies Apartheid is an Afrikaans word meaning separate economic development for two or more racial groups. In this case, it was designed to separate the economic development for European settlers, Indians, and “colored” people and Africans. “Colored” referred to people of mixed races, such as Africans and Europeans or Indians and African. Pass laws were enacted as a means of tracking the movement of Africans in “European designated places,” such as residential suburbs, industrial sites, and European farms. The BSAC issued the passes, valid for one month, six months, or a year. Rasmussen and Rubert suggest that the BSAC recruited its own army and raised capital from three prominent people: Cecil John Rhodes, Alfred Beit, and the Duke of Abercorn.11 From its inception in 1898 by royal charter, the BSAC was the ruler of the newly founded land of Rhodesia until the charter expired in 1923. At this point, the settler community held a referendum to decide if they should govern themselves or join the Union of South Africa, all within the British Empire. The settlers elected to rule themselves. Thus, in 1923, the countries known then as Southern Rhodesia (Zimbabwe), Nyasaland (Malawi), and Northern Rhodesia (Zambia) became self-governing British colonies. Schemata of Misrepresentations Cecil Rhodes had the knowledge about the legitimate authorities in Zimbabwe. He had sent Frederick Selous to scout and collect information


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about his new settlement in 1872.12 Rhodes knew that those kings and chiefs had been well informed about his intentions, and that his plans to make Zimbabwe part of the British Empire would fail. However, sufficient land surveys had been carried out on behalf of the BSAC by Frederick Selous,13 upon which Rhodes drew plans to “divide the country and rule the Africans.” Rhodes’ plan included legitimizing Lobengula Khumalo as the king of the Shona people. Parsons states that Rhodes misrepresented Lobengula Khumalo in all his dealings with the chief of the Ndebele people.14 For example, in the Moffat Treaty purportedly signed in 1888, it can be contested that Lobengula Khumalo, who could not read nor write, did not fully understand the consequences that followed by giving land rights to the European settlers. Arguments advanced by Phimister15 and Parsons16 indicate that the Moffat Treaty 1888 and the Rudd Concession 1888 were fraudulently obtained and followed the same political schemata as the Jameson Raid. Parsons argues that the Rudd Concession was also a misrepresentation. None of the parties had the legal capacity to enter into contractual agreements of any kind over Zimbabwe. It is a truism that the Rhodes’ adventure is shrouded in fraudulent misrepresentation, political chicanery, and theft of African land. The ill-fated Jameson Raid in the Transvaal is an example of Rhodes’ grandiose schemata.17 The situation at the time indicated that the agreement to form Rhodesia was illegal. But in English law, there are no remedies to Lobengula’s handicap since ignorance of the law is not an excuse. In Zimbabwean common law, the action of the settlers was and is still trespassing. Mungazi argues that the royal charter was also obtained by falsifying the legal position of Lobengula as the king of Zimbabwe.18 Mudenge19 and Maclean20 among others allude to greed and search for gold and diamonds at all costs, including the use of slaves and cheap labor, fueling the rise of African nationalism. The Lippert Concession Act 1889 In Slinn, it is considered among the settler community that the Lippert Concession Act passed in 1889 was the final whistle that allowed Europeans to settle in Zimbabwe.21 It was supposed to have been signed between Lobengula Khumalo, purportedly as the bona fide king of Zimbabwe, and Cecil John Rhodes, as the leader of the European settlers. Penner argues that under such misrepresentation the signing preceded the actual occupation of Zimbabwe in 1890 and motivated the BSAC to acquire concessions in Zimbabwe from the British government—the colonial overlord. Many European people from Europe, Africa, and Australasia joined the Pioneer Column, which made Slinn and many other scholars assume that the Rudd Concession made between Lobengula Khumalo on behalf of Zimbabweans and John Rudd

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acting as an agent of Rhodes was valid. Maguire asserts that the native populations, the bona fide owners of the land, were not consulted and received nothing from this deal.22 Maguire argues that Cecil Rhodes had no intention of negotiating the mineral and settlement rights with either Shona kings or chiefs because he had the knowledge that his ideas would not be entertained. The Native Reserves Order in Council Act 1898 British policy toward the colonies was the same throughout the empire. Roder alludes to the fact that land policy in British colonies was often legislated from Westminster in the eighteenth century.23 In Rhodesia, the BSAC and colonial communities could be influenced by legal developments from Britain at that time. The Native Reserves Order in Council passed by the BSAC Board of Directors and later passed into law in the House of Commons created the infamous Native Reserves Act 1898, by which black people were shepherded into the segregation of reserves. Wolf argues that the African reserve land was set up haphazardly, often in low-potential areas. These areas are the “communal areas” of today. The Land Apportionment Act 1930 This legislation is the main cause of all the political unrest in Zimbabwe. It classified land into the following classes: Class 1: very fertile and with very good rainfall, suitable only for European farms; Class 2: containing mineral deposits, which can be commercially exploited or is suitable for building European settlements; Class 3: not fertile with poor rainfall, designated as African Purchase Farm Areas; and Class 4: very infertile land, almost run down by soil erosion and in receipt of sporadic rainfall, designated as African Reserves.24 This was the beginning of laws encouraging separate economic development in Zimbabwe, advancing separate land development and part of the main causes of the present economic crisis. The Marirangwe district in Zimbabwe was the first purchase area to settle 35 middle-class African families in 1931 under the terms of the 1930 Land Apportionment Act (LAA). Shutt suggests that this was the first attempt of the colonial administration to possess African land and redistribute it along racial lines among the settlers and the indigenous Africans.25 Shutt argues that under the terms of the LAA, Africans lost their previous right to purchase rural land anywhere in the country; after 1930 they had the right to buy farms only in designated areas. It brought discontent among the Africans forced to leave their lands for European farms, mining companies, and towns. The Act was similar to the Native Land Act of 1913 in South Africa. Roth and Gonese found


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that the African Reserves or communal lands were a constrained tenure system.26 They were often located amidst commercial farming areas to allow easy access to labor for the farmer. Roth and Gonese argue that the system prevented commoditized exchange of land and preserved the current pattern of smallholding. The Africans did not see it fit to purchase land technically theirs. The two groups operated at two different levels. The Europeans believed that they had conquered the Africans, and the Africans believed rightly, that the Europeans had no right to claim leadership of their country. Mugabe advances this view vigorously in all his speeches, blaming Britain for all of Zimbabwe’s economic problems. Weinrich suggests that the British relegated the African kings to the role of chiefs.27 Their perception was based on the British Monarch and arguments that there was only one king or queen in England. In order to facilitate a political trickery, Rhodes decided to recognize the alien Matabele people as the bona fide rulers of Zimbabwe.28 The Land Husbandry Act 1951 Phimister states that African discontent was aggravated further by the impact of the 1951 Land Husbandry Act, designed to enforce taxation among the villagers, private ownership of land, and purportedly improve the rural economy in the African Reserves.29 At this time, the African Reserves were overpopulated. Phimister asserts that the 1951 Land Husbandry Act was akin to the Bantu Authority Act passed the same year in South Africa. There was escalating pressure of a growing population within fixed areas. Nyambara considers the two legislations of 1930 and 1951 as the instruments the settler governments used to create racial divisions that existed up to self-rule in 1980.30 The Land Husbandry legislation placed a limit on the number of cattle each household could own. At that time in moment cattle formed much of what could be considered wealth in Shona society, the legislation was perceived to be very oppressive. However, the provisions of both the 1923 and 1951 Acts violated traditional practices in many respects. Basically, there was no freedom to practice traditions. For example, all marriage transactions in which cattle or cows were used as part of the dowry had to be registered with the local native commissioner. In 1890, Rhodes recruited Christian missionaries to advance the conversion of all Africans to the faith. It can be contested that such recruitment was used as a strategy to pacify the locals at the same time as exploiting local resources. Making everyone subscribe to the same faith made it easier for the people to share the same values and to view all things “European” as good, including the creation of African homelands. The same techniques could have been deployed by the ruling ZANU-PF.

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The Unilateral Declaration of Independence The Rhodesian government, led by Prime Minister Ian Douglas Smith, illegally severed its links with the British Crown on November 11, 1965, by unilaterally declaring Rhodesia an independent country. The UN General Assembly voted 102 to 2 to condemn the Unilateral Declaration of Independence (UDI). Amid cries from African nations for military intervention, the Security Council called for a diplomatic boycott against the racist minority regime led by Smith.31 Economic sanctions are a favorite tool of the United Nations, the British Commonwealth, and other international political actors. Most of the debate surrounding them centers on their effectiveness in producing the political actions demanded of the targeted country.32 The Rhodesian sanctions were intended to make the Ian Douglas Smith administration surrender, but they appear to have brought out the best of the Rhodesians, who were determined not only to survive as a nation but to succeed economically. The ZANU-PF Perspectives The British Government is Blamed for the Crisis The ZANU-PF and its leadership blame the British government for the crisis in Zimbabwe today.33 The Zimbabwe government declared a state of emergency and appealed to the international community to help combat rampant cholera in an unprecedented acknowledgment of its failings. With the official death toll from the 2008 cholera epidemic reaching 570, with 13,000 people infected, Chaignat admits that Zimbabwe’s once-proud medical system had collapsed.34 The Communal Land Act 1981 O’Flaherty asserts that the ZANU-PF administration upon attaining self-rule was poised to remove all colonial vestiges.35 The priority of the democratically elected government of Zimbabwe in 1980 was to address the land issue. O’Flaherty argues that the Communal Land Act 1981 was to redistribute land to the communal farmers, whose land had been misappropriated by the colonial administrations. Thousands of landless peasant farmers could not harvest from a land overused and eroded in marginal rainfall areas. The Communal Land Act was designed to change traditional tribal lands into communal areas. It also resulted in the shift of land authority from traditional leadership, such as chiefs and kraal heads, to local authorities, such as district rural councils. In turn, the district councils would be made up of people at village level, referred to as the village development committee (VIDCO), and at district level, the district development committee (DIDCO), the council would be


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made up of wards and each had a ward development committee (WADCO). Rutherford suggests that these two groups would be elected into office by the ZANU-PF, and the district chairman would preside over the affairs, including addressing all land matters.36 In terms of traditions in Zimbabwe, this move was a shift of power and all things valued in the Shona customs. The chiefs were sidelined and important rituals associated with food production were abandoned and the moral debate over rain and drought continues, with much immorality blamed on the ZANU-PF politics and the government led by Mugabe. The desire to resettle the landless by the government has not been fulfilled, largely because the government could not acquire land when and where it desired. Landowners were either unwilling to sell or asked for double or triple the prices for their land. Chimhowu suggests that the willing seller/willing buyer undertaking, between 1980 and 1990, could only allow the government to resettle 71,000 families out of 162,000 families.37 Meanwhile, the level of congestion reached catastrophic levels. Chimhowu argues that the resettled families were inadequately prepared to work the new land. There were two important reasons why the resettlement programs were not successful. First, the state did not have adequately trained agriculture workers to support a budding farming community. Second, the resettled families did not have the capital and equipment to work the land. Some families did not want 20 or more acres of arable prime land; they just wanted a place they could call “home,” producing sufficient food for their own consumption with no surplus for the markets. Political pressure for redress mounted, and occasionally, communal farmers settled themselves unilaterally and haphazardly on commercial farms bordering their areas. Food production continued to decline as the ZANU-PF government continued to resettle people on commercial farms and turned a blind eye to squatters. The food crisis has roots in the political and agrarian reform. The Land Acquisition Act 1992 Generating this act in parliament created a highly contested debate. First, the government had sought to acquire land for resettlement purposes to address the inequalities in land ownership and distribution that existed prior to self-rule by amending the Lancaster House Agreement, Section 16. Coldham proposes that the Land Acquisition Act was promulgated to create a National Land Policy.38 The Act allows the state to acquire more land for the resettlement of Zimbabweans who live in congested marginal rainfall areas. Implementation of this Act is currently underway. Coldham alludes to the government using the Act to acquire and sell prime land to members of the ruling elite. This ruling class does not require to be resettled. The

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majority of them have no need for large commercial farms for the purposes of constructing a dwelling house. Pan-African Perspective: One-Man One-Vote The civil rights movement in Africa and the Diaspora has supported the liberation struggle in Africa in many respects. Crozier posits that W.E.B. Du Bois proposed that the fight for African freedom would continue until every man and woman could vote.39 Crozier argues that Du Bois had a double consciousness that included being African and American at the same time. The civil rights movement was fighting for the right to vote and to be free not only in America but freedom for all people of African descent in Africa and the Diaspora. Julius Nyerere of Tanzania, Milton Obote of Uganda, Kwamwe Nkrumah and Kenneth Kaunda of Zambia were among some of the early leaders who supported the liberation struggle in Southern Africa and the founding fathers of the Organization of African Union. Anglo-American Perspectives Reid and Clayton assert that President Obama wanted a fresh approach to solving the crisis in Zimbabwe.40 The United States also believed that economic sanctions imposed by the United Nations would topple the government led by Robert Mugabe. Reid and Clayton suggest that the stumbling block to effective economic sanctions were China and Russia, the two countries that had strong economic links to the Mugabe regime. Unfair and undemocratic governances by the dictatorship of the ZANU-PF led by Mugabe forced major western countries to impose travel sanctions against all senior government officials.41 The travel ban has also come with freezing any assets these leaders might have in western financial institutions. Olmsted suggests that it would be premature for the United States, the European Union, and others to remove the targeted sanctions (travel bans, asset freezes) against key members of the Mugabe regime or to embrace fully the inclusive government. President Obama states that the removal of sanctions can help Zimbabwe recover very fast from its economic crisis.42 The U.S. president suggests that the success of Zimbabwe hinges on the members of the Southern African Development Community (SADC) working and collaborating with the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC and the Zimbabwe African National Union Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF) to make the new government a reality.43 It is important to receive all support, but the MDC and the ZANU-PF must work it out among themselves to help make the reform process successful and irreversible.


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An Overview of the Global Political Agreement (GPA) On June 22, 2008, Morgan Tswangirai withdrew from the presidential race citing repression and ZANU-PF-sponsored violence. However on September 15, 2008, the ZANU-PF and the MDC signed the Global Political Agreement (GPA), in which both parties accepted the need for political and economic reforms and national reconciliation. Mugabe has described the new inclusive government as a temporary one in which ZANU-PF remains in full control. By contrast, Tswangirai sees it as a transitional process that can stabilize the country, leading to elections under a new constitution in two years. However, some old ZANU-PF elements appear to desire the new government to fail out of fear of prosecution for such crimes committed during the elections or even prior to that. The Catholic Commission for Justice and Peace cites a genocide committed during the 1981–1982 civil unrest in Matabeleland.44 Dumbutshena suggests that the dislike for Tswangirai or the MDC is deeply rooted in the belief that they are the guardians of the country’s liberation.45 A dire effort to recover the lost parliamentary elections of March 29, 2008, also illustrated this political myopia of the ZANU-PF politicians. The African Union general election observers also concluded that the June 2008 elections were characterized by violence and intimidation as well as the curtailment of political and civil rights of the majority of the people and were short of the standards expected by the African Union. Suggestion for a Sustainable Change Program In proposing a reconstruction strategy in Zimbabwe, I seek to answer the following questions: (1) What are some of the factors that must be considered when deciding which Organization Development (OD) concepts apply in Zimbabwe? (2) Assuming that the Organizational Development methods and techniques are effective in advancing economic development, how might they be applied? Scholarship and practice in the OD field can be adapted and used in the context of local knowledge and practice, in particular within such socioeconomic environments as Zimbabwe. OD has been described by many practitioners such as Warren Bennis,46 French and Bell.47 Bennis views OD as a complex strategy intended to change the beliefs, attitudes, values, and structure of organizations so that they can better adapt to new markets, technology, and challenges. French and Bell emphasize that effectiveness in organization arises when there is a planned change effort that must emanate from

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the top, going to all systems in the organizational structure.48 They assert OD is a continual process that focuses on the organization’s culture, activities, and structures, deploying a total systems perspective. Organizations in Zimbabwe need to embrace change as they move from a colonial, Apartheid, and state-controlled economic past to a democratic future in which free markets advance innovation and progress.

A Social Construction of a New Zimbabwe The present boundaries of Zimbabwe were designed and effected at the Berlin Conference held in 1888.49 There are about 7.5 million people in Southern Africa who speak the Shona language, a culture inherited from the Rozvi people.50 Lewin, treating the organization like a living organism, argues that the organization must take cognizance of its environment for survival.51 Zimbabwe must take into consideration its culture and inheritance to be effective in the construction of a successful democracy. Lewin alludes to taking into context the different cultures that now make up the state of Zimbabwe. There are European and South African Nguni people who have settled in Zimbabwe from the seventeenth century to the present day. Together with the Rozvi people, or the Shona-speaking people, they can form a formidable community that can use the natural resources abundant in the country to rebuild one of the most prosperous economies in Southern Africa.

Charting the National Comparative Advantages The Community of Practice (COP) can coconstruct and craft organizational capabilities in relation to the environment in which it operates. In 1998, Etienne Wenger’s breakthrough research in group dynamics concluded that communities of practice are groups of people who could implement organization strategy in a much more effective manner. The COP can have similar pursuits and often meet regularly to share their work passion. The COP can be a multidisciplinary team drawn from across the economy of the country. Adapting Ricardo’s views on comparative costs, the COP can chart the comparative advantages of Zimbabwe in relation to its many trade partners. The COP can develop explicit knowledge that can be applied to build better organizations in Zimbabwe. For example Zimbabwean producers can have all the information to re-construct the economic advantages that once made the country the bread basket of African states. Economic development must be proceeded by re-structuring the economy and creating an


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infrastructure conducive to trade and commerce. Effective organization can increase production in all sectors, all things being equal.52 At an organizational level, the COP can create and share explicit knowledge and advance strategies that are difficult for similar companies to mimic. Wenger acknowledges that because of their ability to discuss and learn work-related issues, COPs can affect performance. Mupepi asserts that coconstruction works with all levels of literacy.53 Literacy rates in the country vary between 75 and 89 percent MSN (2010).54 But using the COP approach everyone can participate in identifying solutions to the problems facing the community. Mupepi argues that adults learn better by putting lesson plans into practical activities. Thus a lesson plan to stop the spread of malaria by mosquitoes can be effective if a replica of a malaria-causing mosquito can be produced in the learning environment. A COP can create an organizational culture that will find the most effective means for installing desired core values into the hearts and minds of each member of the organization. It will be in a position to create and disseminate explicit knowledge about what the organization does. A competitive advantage can be developed in this manner as well. The aim of OD is to make organizations effective at their businesses by improving the understanding of the relationship between the cultural environment, the organization, technology, and the economy. A number of OD concepts can enable Zimbabwe to effectively address the economic development needs, position itself to meet the challenges of the dynamic, complex globalization process, and take advantage of the opportunities presented by globalization.

OD Ontology Applied In “Leadership Lessons from Emperor Shaka Zulu the Great,” Madi highlights management principles that were fostered by the military leader Emperor Shaka Zulu (1787–1828), such as getting to know and understand the problem, collectively constructing a sense of mission, leading the change from the front, and building a fanatical team.55 This historical context fits well with Action Research. Organizations that get to know their customers well, serve them better.

Spiritual Leadership from Zimbabwe Studies from the Zambezi Valley in Zimbabwe indicate that spiritualism is increasingly becoming important and can be viewed as source of motivation to do good things in health practices, learning, or at work.56 African

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spiritualism lies at the foundation of culture and confers and reflects identity. In Mupepi, African spiritualism is viewed as one of the main prisms through which Africans view their life activities: work, play, health, and death. Africans’ relationships to spiritualism are tenacious even in situations of acute poverty. The psychological effects and benefits of spiritualism in Zimbabwe are celebrated during moments of prosperity such as harvesting times or the arrival of new members of the family, however short lived.57 Mupepi suggests that Africans living in the rural areas generate intense emotions about the importance of their traditional customs, which include respect for spiritual ancestors. Lessons from Mbuya Nehanda A Zimbabwean military leader at the time of British occupation was Mbuya Nehanda, a woman whose spiritual leadership spanned the entire region of Zimbabwe, Mozambique, and part of Namibia, Botswana, and South Africa.58 Mutswairo argues that Nehanda’s abilities to successfully appeal to the spiritual needs of the African people made her an effective commander. Nehanda was able to lead, mobilize, and sensitize the people concerning the culture, values, and property of the African people under siege from the settler regimes of European and Ndebele people. In the novel Chaminuka the Prophet of Zimbabwe published in 1983, Mutswairo suggests that the death of Pasipamire Chaminuka in 1873 signifies the beginning of the First Chimurenga War which ended in 1898. Mutswairo asserts that the historical beliefs and practices of the Rozvi people are still resilient in local cultures throughout the region.59 Bhebe asserts that the influences and recruitment methodology of Mbuya Nehanda were adopted in the Second Chimurenga War (1962–1980), leading to victory and creation of the modern state of Zimbabwe.60 Chavhunduka,61 Mudenge,62 Mutswairo,63 among many other scholars, discuss the importance of African traditional practices and how leadership such as that provided by Nehanda and Mapondera used the drive derived from African values and traditions to defend themselves against invaders. Culture and values are critical factors in OD practices. They are the basis upon which change and learning can be advanced successfully. Organizations in Zimbabwe must appreciate African spiritualism as a source of motivation to advance successful health practices, promote ethical behavior in public and work organization. Much research on work motivation has been focused on the context of organizations in advanced economies,64 and there is limited literature in Africa’s contexts to progress the same research in advancing economies such as Zimbabwe. In Chavhunduka, Africans press on


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community participation in civic life and development efforts because their traditions and customs can compel them to do so.65 For example, fruit trees are regarded as important and cannot be used as a source of energy for heating or cooking. Chavhunduka suggests that in marriages, a man cannot take more than one wife if he has no resources to support the first marriage beyond what is reasonable. The majority of Africans cannot sustain large families that can result in polygamous marriages. The costs of education or health to large families can be prohibitive and bars individuals from entering into such relationships. The different ways people learn are important. Successful change can happen when learning has taken place. Narratives play a pivotal role in African organizational learning. Knowledge of historical facts is important to plan a strategy for the future. Zimbabwe can avoid some of the mistakes and oversights made in historical times and build a successful democracy. There are ample opportunities to learn from the international trade and gregariousness of the Rozvi communities66 and the innovation of Voer Trekkers and English settlers to design and implement effective economic policies and allow organizations to respond positively to Zimbabwe’s economic situation.67 Socioeconomic Background The socioeconomic background of Zimbabwe and the nature and structure of the different types of organizations operating in the country are critical to the understanding of any measures to introduce change. Although discrimination and separate development have been dismantled in Zimbabwe, many organizations that have their origins in the colonial era have to adjust and embrace the multicultural concepts of diversity, globalization, and market competition. Capacity building will entail technology-knowledge transfer in all sectors, particularly mining and manufacturing. This approach will involve determining organizational needs and then constructing effective capacity-building programs. The capacity building process entails looking at the competencies and technology required by individuals and institutions. Although there is no more overt discrimination in the country to prevent anyone from learning new skills or pursuing higher education and training, the question of resources arises. Forgetting the negative past and remembering positive historical events should be encouraged in all spheres of organizational life. The issue of land redistribution has caused many farmers, who normally employ the majority of rural populations, to leave the country. Unemployment is over 60 percent in most urban centers. The positive past indicates that the commercial farm could easily employ hundreds of workers, and such

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history can be repeated successfully. The turbulent socioeconomic context provides significant opportunities for productive OD interventions. Democracy: Improving Health and Quality of Life Political freedom in African countries is easily swayed by external forces such as financial or food aid, International Monetary Fund borrowing conditions, and the influence of the old colonial masters in other aspects of the economy. Zimbabwe is no exception. Hoogeveen believes that democracy—not the mechanics of elections, but the quality of life and freedom supposedly characteristic of democracy—is also of concern in Zimbabwe.68 The elections held in 2008 indicate that there are many challenges to implementing a democracy in Zimbabwe. Democratic practices such as community involvement in civic affairs have the capacity to find effective solutions to poverty, land usage, or health issues. Therefore democracy as an OD intervention is important as a means to address long-term growth, prosperity, and quality of life. Democracy and Equal Opportunity Aspirations to and practices of democracy exist in Zimbabwe, and the end of Apartheid has empowered millions of blacks and other previously marginalized races such as Indians and Coloreds (mixed races). The rural constituency of Rushinga in the Zambezi Valley had an Indian Zimbabwean member of parliament, Mr. Patel, elected on a ZANU-PF ticket. In Harare, the late senator Culverwell, a colored Hararian, was nominated to the Senate, the second chamber of the bicameral legislature in Zimbabwe. Currently, the Government of Unity, amidst growing pains, is diversified, drawing members from the Multi Democracy Congress party led by Morgan Tswangirayi and Arthur Mutambara. Diversity in the MDC is also illustrated by one of the White members, Roy Bennett, whose background includes 3 generations of Zimbabwean citizens, and who is characteristic of most Whites who have remained in post-independence Zimbabwe. All types of businesses are now open to a new breed of entrepreneurs whose education, training, and learning needs vary from basic business plans to sophisticated business strategy. Tapping successfully Zimbabwe’s entrepreneurial renaissance may bring long-term rewards for all Zimbabweans. Of course, facilitating these second-order changes can be lucrative for international development organizations and international OD consultants and corporations. Local and international corporations working in the area of disease control, poverty reduction, human rights and democracy, or environmental protection tend to succeed more since what they do


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is highly prized in the country. As organizations improve productivity in free markets, the country’s national income also increases. A Focus on Competency Development The training and development to enable those who were underserved to do their jobs effectively takes precedence. I have mentioned the varied literacy rates in the country. The rates are varied because some areas have been underserved by the ZANU-PF government. For example, the civil strife in Matabeleland between 1980 and 1982 led to an underdevelopment of the two provinces that make up Matabeleland. There are fewer schools per square mile compared with similar areas in Mashonaland. There are also fewer clinics and water boreholes per cluster of villages as compared with Mashonaland West Province, home to President Mugabe. Education and training of the local people are crucial in the transformation of any economy. With the many theories, methods and technology to draw from, Organizational Development is better equipped to deal with the economic transformation required in Zimbabwe. In occupations such as education, health, and mining, Zimbabwe faces a “brain drain” on a monthly basis as qualified personnel leave the country seeking greener pastures elsewhere. Education and training cannot stop the mass exodus of experts, but they can be a starting point to re-build the capacity to fill the gaps created by those who left. At the same time other motivational plans must be put into place to lure those who left to return. Zimbabwe is a sovereign state whose citizens are free to make personal decisions such as migration or immigration. In the interests of rebuilding the economy, there is need to develop incentives to stop migration very quickly. Lawlessness and lack of investment returns and incentives to keep skilled workers are obstacles to economic development. It will be imperative for organizations to work with local institutions and OD experts to devise plans for building and diffusion of OD opportunities. Literature on Current OD Practices Current literature provides the context for the adaptation and application of OD methods and techniques in Zimbabwe. Measurement of the distribution of knowledge, expertise, and practices of an organization is the starting imperative for effective management design, and it involves effective evaluation technology and methods. There are many OD methods and technologies that can be adapted to improve productivity and make better organizations. There are also many ways of advancing sound economic policy. Appreciative Inquiry (AI) is a method developed by David Cooperrider in 1987 that allows

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villagers, communities, or organizations to participate in the construction of knowledge that may be required to address a number of social problems. AI can also be used to diffuse and distribute that knowledge to other parts of the organization or the community where it can be used to change behavior or create practices that have value to the organization or the community. Socially Constructed Competency Model (SCCM) In Mupepi, the SCCM is an alternative method of advancing organizational strategy.69 This method is based on the premise that collective intentionality, expressed through the democratic forum of the COP, enables the coconstruction of organizational reality. Mupepi suggests that the COP can construct, create, and mandate the desired outcomes. The COP is the only group of people who can validate the larger community’s or organizations’ reality. Mupepi suggests that the social context in which an organization operates has an important bearing on how teams will succeed in achieving the desired goals. Knowledge and practices index the situation in which they arise and are used. The SCCM makes it possible to collectively identify explicit knowledge, skills, and the technology necessary for organizations to accomplish specific goals. The SCCM can be used to assess organizational culture and the results used to realign the people to the mission. While OD offers many methods and choices of interventions that can make organizations efficient, the SCCM offers an added advantage of enabling effectiveness to happen in organization by advancing programs that can close performance gaps, improve skills, and offer hope and dreams for the future focusing on organizational strengths and capability. Zimbabwe has many natural resources, for example, diamonds, gold, platinum, copper, iron ore, coal and gas; an abundance of wild life, and an infrastructure that can support successful secondary industries. The situation that the crisis in Zimbabwe has reached is calling for aid and relief, performance improvement, investment and financial management and immediate technology-transfer programs, just to mention a few. Relevant Cutting-Edge Change Methods: Identifying the Prevalent Culture In Mupepi and others, culture is viewed as the factor that can enable change to happen.70 It is regarded as the key to successful learning and change. Mupepi and others suggest that the prevailing culture in an organization should be identified, studied, and understood by the organization. The prevailing culture in Zimbabwe can constitute many factors, such as undemocratic governances, lawlessness in some parts of the country, food shortages, higher incidence of communicable diseases, and school closures, among many


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other variables. The culture constitutes the factors that need to be changed and the things people in Zimbabwe should embrace. Assessments and Measurements of Organizational Culture Using Appreciative Inquiry Capacity building in developing countries implies that local people should be empowered to create and implement development policies best suited to their own conditions. But before a subject community is empowered to do something, community leaders or a community of practice need to identify the performance gaps in the different jobs that make up the business to enable a complete competency plan. Mupepi and others suggest that AI is another effective method of determining and assessing organizational needs.71 The entire organization is able to successfully participate in the introduction and management of change. Mupepi and others posit that the resistance to change can be addressed instantaneously as people participate to envision a better future.72 Dimensions of Culture Hofstede and Hofstede identify five dimensions of culture as power distance, individualism versus collectivism, masculinity versus femininity, uncertainty avoidance, and long- versus short-term orientation.73 They argue that in most countries there is a power distance between those who have the power and those that do not have it. This distance can be assessed and a high score suggests that there is an expectation that some individuals wield larger amounts of power than others. A low score reflects the view that all people should have equal rights. Countries with high power distance ratings are often characterized by a high rate of political violence. Some countries such as Zimbabwe have shown more political violence at each general election meeting. Others, like South Africa, have accepted equal rights and there is less political violence than before. While OD practitioners may chose to concentrate on the assignment at hand, such unfair practices may “put spanners in the works” of change efforts. There are many OD methods of introducing and managing change. Assessing each situation separately enables the OD practitioner to select the best intervention method. Other Relevant Techniques: Process Consultation (PC) An understanding of what the organization does is crucial to the implementation of successful change programs. Schein argues that PC will help

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to identify the cultural makeup of the organization. Once the variables are identified, it will be easier to assess the extent and distribution of knowledge, attitudes and practices, and to reframe the organization using the identified strengths and weaknesses. Process consultation compels the practitioner to incorporate the technical information in the system to make meaningful changes. It is a way of getting deeper into the reality of the desired change. Schein asserts that working in the present reality and understanding the ebb and flow of the new knowledge as it shifts from one operation to another within the structure will bring better perspectives of how change should be articulated.74 Future opportunities for OD Application: Competency Development The dismantling of segregation policies has led some of the proponents of racist practices to leave Zimbabwe, and forced the state and corporations to promote ill-prepared indigenous candidates for top positions in the public or private sectors. Organizations may need competency development strategies to maintain high quality products and services and to continue exporting to the Anglo-American markets where quality is much more important than price. Given the arguments drawn from the social construction philosophy, there are opportunities for and the need to conduct research on culture, productivity, diversity, work ethics, learning, and group dynamics in different settings as these will differ from those of the West. But these are all critical if indigenous talent is to be successful. Some Barriers to Change Management Illiteracy remains the biggest hurdle to introducing and sustaining change, especially in rural populations. Communicating in written languages is a major challenge. OD may not have solutions for all problems, but many interventions available may enable a community to identify and appreciate the problems and issues that are important, and be able to find solutions using the lenses of the community of practice. Emulating the traditional ways of learning and training, effective communications about what matters to the community can be facilitated through narratives of hope and success. The illiteracy in the Zambezi Valley of Zimbabwe is one of the many challenges faced by all types of organizations. The importance of phonics in reading, group interactions, and the sharing of information cannot be overestimated. This approach will certainly be the way forward given that attitudes and practice form the basis of adult learning. Barnett & Storey contend that illiteracy rates are high and governments are giving directives for black advancement as


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well as offering citizens opportunities for continuing education and training where workforce reading and writing, and health and safety education take precedence over other learning programs. There is a clear need for workforce education and training. Literacy in Zimbabwe has steadily declined from 95 percent to an average of 94.7 percent for the male and 87.2 percent for the female populations.75 Innovation and Enabling Legislation The rule of law is important for any form of organization to take place. Organizations need a safe environment to do business and one of the prerequisites for innovation to take place is free market systems, where individuals may take calculated risks in the development of new ideas and methods. Organizational innovation involves the creation or alteration of business structures, practices, and models, and may therefore include process, marketing and business model innovation. This may require organizations to be more transparent and accountable to the stakeholders, something that is lacking in the region at present. The Manpower Development and Apprenticeship Acts are examples of strategies aimed at encouraging investment in education and training and for raising funds for adult education such as literacy or skills development. The opportunities that arise as a result of equity and employment legislation are team building programs, performance management interventions, organization assessments, and human awareness. In addition, management training has been made compulsory by other legislation such as Occupational Health and Safety and Manpower Development, making employers responsible for nondiscriminatory human resource development at all levels for all races. Summary and Suggestions Democracy’s introduction has called for organizations to be more accountable, transparent, and self-reliant. The most important challenge for Zimbabwe is to develop democratic and transparent organizations that embrace the dreams of the people and to remain accountable to the electorate. Fighting corruption and maintaining transparency in all aspects of organizational life appear to be challenges faced by leadership in the region. Indeed these are critical obstacles to change. African scholars argue that it is not only lack of transparency, but crises such as those happening in the Congo Basin of the DRC, Rwanda, and Burundi and in Zimbabwe that have a negative effect on the continent as a whole. These problems discourage international investment. Democratic processes, ethics, and governance

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are topics that can partially be addressed in the field through leadership and supervisory development programs. Zimbabwe offers a unique opportunity for understanding the African concept of social construction encompassing continuous learning and improvement through strategies developed by the COP. The result is that OD can offer appropriate advice based on a variety of theories, including grounded theory that is appropriate within different racial groups in Zimbabwe. Future Research: Action Research through AI Cross-cultural research that can be facilitated by the use of AI may enlighten practitioners as they continue to work with diversified communities locally and globally. Cultural research through the medium of AI enables practitioners to identify some of the reasons why people in organizations may resist change. AI is one of OD’s interventions that has been used successfully around the globe. AI can be used to assess what the organization knows, what it needs to know, and what it wants to accomplish, as well as for charting the way to satisfy those needs. Productivity and Motivation Research could seek to answer the following questions: Do people from Malawi work harder and better than those from Zambia? Is there a difference between what motivates these two communities? If there is, what is the difference? Why is development in rural areas slow at best or nonexistent at worst, given that the vast majority of people reside in these very same rural areas? Such knowledge may be useful to mining corporations and large commercial farms that recruit from all over southern Africa. Problems and Issues Encountered in Integrating People of Different Cultures The convergence of different cultures means that different problems will arise as groups are combined. It becomes necessary to find different forms of governance to develop new boundaries as new authorities, languages, and customs emerge. The resistance to the desired change becomes an obstacle to change. The opportunities for research are immense. One way to find out about change management opportunities in Zimbabwe would be to contact embassy staff in Washington D.C., New York, or Toronto, or to approach the many corporations directly in Zimbabwe.


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Notes 1. J. Kendal, “Rhodesia,” in The Catholic Encyclopedia (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1912). 2. S.I.G. Mudenge, A Political History of Munhumutapa, c1400–1902 (Harare: Zimbabwe Publishing House, 1988). 3. S.M. Mutswairo, Chaminuka the Prophet of Zimbabwe (Washington, D.C.: Three Continents Press, 1983). 4. Mudenge, A Political History. 5. Allen F. Isaacman and Barbara Isaacman, “The Tradition of Resistance in Mozambique. Anti-colonial Activity in the Zambezi Valley 1850–1921,” The Journal of African History 19, no. 1, World War I and Africa (1978): 141–142. 6. Allan Bundle, The Social Lens Zuckerman, the Social Theory of W.E.B. DuBois (Thousand Oaks, CA; Pine Forge Press, 2009). 7. Peirs Brendon, The Decline of the British Empire (London: Random House, 2007). 8. Ibid. 9. Bundle, The Social Lens Zuckerman. 10. Ibid., 1. 11. R.K. Rasmussen and S.C. Rubert, A Historical Dictionary of Zimbabwe (Metuchen, N.J.: Scarecrow Press, 1990). 12. Frederick C. Selous, Sunshine and Storm in Rhodesia Being a Narrative of Events in Matabeleland (New York: Negro University Press, 1969). 13. Ibid. 14. Neil Parsons, A New History of Southern Africa, Second Edition (London: Macmillan, 1993). 15. Ian Phimister, “Rhodes, Rhodesia and the Rand,” Journal of Southern African Studies 1, no. 1 (1974): 74–90. 16. Parsons, A New History of Southern Africa. 17. Deryck Schreuder and Jeffery Butler, Sir Graham Bowers’ Secret History of the Jameson Raid and the South African Crisis 1895–1902 (Cape Town: Van Riebeeck Society Second Series No. 33, 2002). 18. D. Mungazi, The Struggle for Social Change in Southern Africa: Visions of Liberty (New York: Taylor and Francis, 1989). 19. Mudenge, A Political History. 20. S.J. Maclean, “Mugabe at War: The Political Economy of Conflict in Zimbabwe,” Third World Quarterly 23, no. 3 (2002): 513–528. 21. Peter Slinn, “Commercial Concessions and Politics During the Colonial Period: The Role of the BSAC in Northern Rhodesia 1890–1964,” African Affairs 70, no. 281 (1971): 365–384. 22. Rochfort Maguire, “Rhodesia,” Journal of Royal African Society 22, no. 86 (1923): 81–95. 23. Wolf Roder, “The Division of Land Reserves in Southern Rhodesia,” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 54, no. 1 (1964): 41–52. 24. Ben Cousins, “Property and Power in Zimbabwe’s communal lands: implications for agrarian reform in the 1990s,” Paper Presented at the Conference on Land Policy

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27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36.

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38. 39.

40. 41. 42.

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in Zimbabwe after “Lancaster” (Harare: University of Zimbabwe, February 13–15, 1990). Allison K. Shutt, “Squatters, Land Sales and Intensification in Marirangwe Purchase Area, Colonial Zimbabwe in 1931–1965,” Journal of African History 43, no. 3 (2002): 473–498. Michael Roth and Francis Gonese, Delivering Land and Securing Livelihoods: PostIndependence Land Reform and Resettlement in Zimbabwe (Center for Applied Social Sciences, University of Zimbabwe, Mt Pleasant, Harare, 2003). A.K. Weinrich, Chiefs and Councils in Rhodesia: Transition from Patriarchal to Bureaucratic Power (London: HathiTrust, 1971). I. Schapera, David Livingstone’s Private Journals 1851–1853 (London, 1960). Ian Phimister, “Re-thinking the Reserves: Southern Rhodesia’s Land Husbandry Act Reviewed,” Journal of Southern African Studies 19, no. 2 (1993): 225–239. P. Nyambara, “Immigrants, ‘Traditional’ Leaders and the Rhodesian State: 1963–1979,” Journal of Southern African Studies 27, no. 4 (2001): 771–791. K.N. Mufuka, “Rhodesia’s Internal Settlement: A tragedy,” African Affairs 78 (1979): 439–450. Elizabeth Schmidt, “When Sanctions Worked: The Case of Rhodesia Re-examined,” African Affairs 87, no. 347 (1988): 207–237. Rice Xan, The Zimbabwe Situation (2005). http://Zimbabwesituation.com/ dec30_2005html. Claire-Lise Chaignat, “Cholera in Zimbabwe,” World Health Organization (2008). http://www.who.int/csr/don/2008_12_02/en/print.html. Michael O’Flaherty, “Communal Tenure in Zimbabwe: Divergent Models of Collective Land Holding in the Communal Areas,” Africa 68 (1998): 537–557. Blair Rutherford, “Desired Publics, Domestic Government, and Entangled Fears: On the Anthropology of Civil Society, Farm Workers, and White Farmers in Zimbabwe,” Cultural Anthropology 19, no. 1 (2004): 122–153. Admos Osmund Chimhowu, “Extending the Grain Basket to the Margins,” Journal of Southern African Studies 28, no. 3, Special Issue: Changing Livelihoods (September 2002): 551–573. Simon Coldham, “The Land Acquisition Act 1992 of Zimbabwe,” Journal of African Law Vol. 37 (1993): 82–88. Karen Crozier, “The Luminous Darkness of Du Bois’ Double Consciousness: Through the Lens of Contemporary Christian Women,” Pastoral Psychology 57, no. 1–2S (2008): 77–88. Tim Reid and Jonathan Clayton, “President Obama leads the U.S. Drive,” Timeonline (2009), timeline.co.uk/tol/news/world/africa/article5600659. Thomas Omestad, Zimbabwe’s corrupt ruler hold onto power (2008), http:// usnews.com/articles/news/world/2008/06/13/Zimbabwe. Sapa, “Lifting Zimbabwe Sanctions Will Speed Its Recovery” (2009), http://www. polity.org.za/article/lifting-zim-sanctions-will-speed-its-recovery-zuma-200909-11. Ibid.


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44. Catholic Commission, Catholic Commission of Inquiry (Gweru, Zimbabwe: Mambo Press, 1997). 45. Tendai Dumbutshena, “ZANU-PF and MDC not Equals in GNU,” The Zimbabwe Times (2009), http://thezimbabwetimes.com/tag=tendai-dumbujena. 46. Warren G. Bennis, Changing Organizations (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1966). 47. Wendell L. French & Cecil H. Bell, Organization Development: Behavioral Science Interventions for Organization Improvement 6th ed. (Upper Saddle River, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1999). 48. Ibid. 49. Jeremy Weinstein, “Scramble for Africa: Lessons of a Continental War,” Peace Research Abstract 38, no. 5 (2001): 603–751. 50. S.I.G. Mudenge, “The Role of Foreign Trade in the Rozvi Empire: A Reappraisal,” Journal of African History XV (1974): 373–391. 51. Kurt Lewin, Field Theory in Social Science (New York: Harper & Collins, 1951). 52. S. Hollander, The Economics of David Ricardo (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1974). 53. Mambo G. Mupepi, “The Nature of a Schematic Description of a Co-constructed Competency Model (SCCM),” International Journal of Collaborative Enterprises 3, no. 1 (2009): 224–240. 54. MSN World Report, “World Literacy Rates” (2010). http://encarta.msn.com/ media_461524612_761556639_-1_1/world_literacy_rates.html. 55. P.M. Madi, “Leadership Lessons from Emperor Shaka Zulu the Great,” The Academy of Management Executive 13, no. 3 (2001): 141–142. 56. Mambo G. Mupepi, Transforming Village Entrepreneurs into Sustainable Development Using Social Constructs. A Case of Zimbabwe (Ann Arbor, Michigan: ProQuest Publications Inc., 2005). 57. Ibid. 58. S.M. Mutswairo, Mapondera, The Soldier of Zimbabwe (Washington DC: Three Continents Press, 1978). 59. Ibid. 60. Ngwabi Bhebe, Christianity and the Traditional Religion in Western Zimbabwe: 1859–1923 (Harare: Longman, 1979). 61. Gordon Chavhunduka, “Some Cultural Aspects of Traditional Medicine, Traditional Religion and Gender in Zimbabwe,” The Rose Croix Journal 5, no. 38 (2008): 1–14. 62. S.I.G. Mudenge, A Christian Education at the Mutapa’s Court: A Portuguese Strategy to Influence Events in the Empire of Munhumutapa (Harare: Zimbabwe Publishing House, 1986). 63. Mutswairo, Mapondera, the Soldier of Zimbabwe. 64. V.H. Vroom, Work and Motivation (New York: Wiley, 1964). 65. Chavhunduka, “Some Cultural Aspects of Traditional Medicine.” 66. Mudenge, “The Role of Foreign Trade in the Rozvi Empire.” 67. Jane Carruthers, “Friedrich Jeppe: Mapping the Transvaal c. 1850–1899,” Journal of Southern African Studies 29, no. 4 (2003): 955–975.

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68. Johannes G. Hoogeveen, “Measuring Welfare for Small But Vulnerable Groups: Poverty and Disability in Uganda,” Journal of African Economics 14, no. 3 (2005): 503–531. 69. Mupepi, “The Nature of a Schematic Description of a Co-constructed Competency Model (SCCM).” 70. Mambo G. Mupepi, Sylvia C. Mupepi, Ram V. Tenkasi, and Peter F. Sorensen Jr., “Creating High Impact Organization in the Southern African Development Communities: Adapting OD Methods and Practices,” Journal of Organization Development: the OD Practitioner 32, no. 2 (2007): 34–39. 71. Mambo G. Mupepi, Sylvia C. Mupepi, Ram V. Tenkasi, and Gayla D. Jewell, “Precision in managing organizational change,” IJMP 3, no. 2 (2008): 150–163. 72. Ibid. 73. Geert H. Hofstede and Gert Jan Hofstede, Cultures and Organizations Software of the Mind (New York: McGraw-Hill, 2005). 74. Edgar H. Schein, Process Consultation Revisited: Building the Helping Relationship (Boston, MA; Edison-Wesley, 1987), 4. 75. MSN World Report, “World Literacy Rates.”

Index

Abuja Declaration, 31 African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA), 231 African Union (AU), 8, 15, 19, 20, 21, 23, 25, 27, 28, 29, 31, 32, 33, 35, 36, 37, 38, 40, 43, 57, 80, 81, 87, 112, 115, 125, 150, 161, 163, 166, 173, 191, 202, 205, 214, 221, 256, 257 African Peace and Security Architecture, 20, 21, 35, 36 African Standby Force (ASF), 23, 24, 36 African Union Mission in Burundi (AMIB), 28 AU Charter, 9, 35 AU Mission in Somalia (AMISOM), 29 AU Mission in Sudan (AMIS), 28 AFRICOM, 79, 80, 81 Algeria, 40, 61, 62, 63, 66, 67, 68, 69, 73, 83, 163, 169 al Qaida of the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM), 66 al-zawahri, Ayman, 67 Annan, Kofi, 175 Bennet, Roy, 262 bin Laden, Osama, 67 Brazzaville Conference, 215 Bush administration, 60, 74, 75, 76, 79, 80, 169, 180, 184 Bush, George W., 180

Canada, foreign policy of, 5 carrying capacity, 90 Chad, 61, 62, 63, 68, 69, 73, 74, 100, 151, 161, 167 Christianity, 10, 60, 65, 73, 81, 249, 250, 271 Christian African states, 64 clean energy, 103 climate change, 1, 2, 4, 5, 10, 11, 13, 19, 27, 32, 33, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 114, 116 climate system, 91, 94, 104 global warming, 103, 116, 134 Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), 92 Kyoto Protocol, 104 Commission on Human Security, 6, 14 Common African Defence and Security Policy (CADSP), 27 critical perspective, 7 Darfur, 11, 28, 74, 88, 89, 105, 115, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169 Darfur Liberation Front (DLF), 155, 156, 166 Janjaweed, 157 Save Darfur Coalition (SDC), 160 decolonization, 150, 151 de Gaulle, Charles, 215

274

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Index

Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), 171 Kabila, Joseph, 184 Kabila, Laurent, 183 Mobutu, Sese Seko, 174 Nkunda, Laurent, 175 disarmament, 28, 167, 177, 185, 197, 199, 201, 202, 207, 218, 219, 221, 224, 227, 239 Djibouti, 62, 63, 69, 70, 71, 81, 84 Doha negotiations, 122 Du Bois, W.E.B., 250 Egypt, 40, 62, 63, 98, 137, 151 food, 111, 113, 114 Alliance for Green Revolution in Africa (AGRA), 123 global food production, 97, 114 Green Revolution, 116, 117, 120, 123 malnutrition, 33, 98, 114, 115, 118, 124, 172 U.S. Global Food Security Initiative, 125 foreign direct investments (FDI), 123 French counterterrorism, 66 French peacekeepers, 218, 227 Gbagbo, Laurent, 216 global governance, 2, 149, 151, 152, 164 globalization, 26, 82, 232, 259, 261 Great Lakes region, 45, 47, 50, 175, 180 Guinea, 7, 30, 31, 40, 46, 49, 50, 56, 62, 81, 195, 196, 204, 205, 214, 215, 221, 222, 242 HIV/AIDS, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 19, 27, 31, 32, 37, 114, 115, 130, 131, 134, 135, 144, 145, 229, 231 Houphouët-Boigny, Felix, 213 hybrid mission, 161 International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS), 7

International Court of Justice (ICJ), 42 international peace and security, 4, 21, 41, 44, 45, 53, 99, 201 peacebuilding, 7, 12, 24, 192, 201, 203, 206, 207, 208, 209 peacekeeping, 6, 24, 28, 29, 104, 136, 155, 160, 161, 162, 168, 172, 174, 175, 177, 178, 182, 184, 192, 196, 197, 198, 199, 201, 202, 205, 206, 207, 208, 218, 224, 227, 228 Islam, 10, 56, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 70, 71, 73, 74, 75, 76, 80, 81, 100, 156, 160, 164, 166 Islamic Courts Union (ICU), 80 Islamic Salvation Front (FIS), 67 Muslim-African states, 61 National Islamic Front, 156 Sharia Law, 73 Japan, foreign policy of, 6 Kampala Convention, 43, 52, 54 Kenya, 40, 46, 48, 49, 50, 52, 56, 62, 63, 71, 72, 74, 75, 76, 79, 80, 81, 84, 121, 127, 136 Khumalo, Lobengula, 251 Kibaki, Mwai, 72 Ki-moon, Ban, 89 Kosovo, 45, 175 life expectancy, 100, 131 Madagascar, 31, 37, 62, 63, 123 Makoni, Chingayira, 249 Maputo, 31, 33, 125 market information, 121 Matabele, 248 Mauritania, 30, 31, 61, 62, 63, 74, 214, 215 Mbeki, Thabo, 181 Mbuya, Nehanda, 260 Mombasa, 71 Mugabe, Robert, 136 National Liberation Front (FLN), 67 National Security Strategy, 4, 14

Index Niger, 25, 28, 30, 31, 34, 37, 38, 61, 62, 64, 73, 74, 77, 79, 84, 95, 99, 100, 101, 168, 173, 195, 196, 198, 200, 205, 206, 214, 216, 218, 221, 222, 224 Nigeria, 25, 28, 34, 37, 38, 61, 62, 64, 73, 74, 77, 84, 95, 100, 168, 173, 195, 196, 198, 200, 205, 206, 221 Niger Delta, 99 non-refoulement, principle of, 42 Obama, Barack, 256 Ogata, Sadako, 50 Operation Licorne, 225, 228 Organization of African Unity (OAU), 19, 20, 35, 40, 162, 166, 191, 202 OAU Convention, 42, 43 Ouagadougou Political Agreement (OPA), 220 Ouattara, Alassane, 217 Pentagon, 60, 61, 66, 72, 78, 83 poverty reduction, 7, 100, 262 Pretoria Agreement, 219, 221 refugees and IDPs, 10, 27, 40, 41, 50, 51, 53, 54 asylum, 15, 41, 42, 43, 44, 48, 49, 60, 205 durable solutions, 2, 8, 9, 11, 41, 46, 47, 50, 51, 54 Geneva Convention, 40 internally displaced persons (IDPs), 6, 19, 39 militarization, of refugee camps, 44 protracted refugee situations (PRS), 39 responsibility to protect, principle of, 7 Rhodes, Cecil, 1, 250 Rwanda, 28, 40, 45, 47, 48, 50, 62, 91, 115, 123, 162, 172, 173, 174, 175, 177, 181, 183, 185, 186, 188, 239, 267 Hutu and Tutsi, 172 Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), 47

●

275

safe havens, 49 Salafist Group for Call and Combat, 67, 69 Sant-Egidio, 68 security concept, 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 13, 51, 52 collective security, 23 national security, 1, 4, 15, 42, 134, 140 referent object, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 51, 54 security debate, 2, 7, 45, 52 security discourse, 1, 2, 4, 8, 9, 10, 44, 45, 50, 51, 53, 54, 139 security paradigm, 3, 7, 9, 10, 27, 41, 45, 50, 51, 52, 53, 133 security threats, 9, 10, 13, 14, 20, 27, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 104, 133, 137, 139, 141 environmental security, 3 food security, 11, 33, 87, 95, 97, 111, 113, 114 human security, 1, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 27, 31, 34, 41, 45, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 56, 133, 134, 141 military threats, 3, 133 nonmilitary threats, 1, 4, 5, 133 self-determination, 11, 149, 150, 151, 152, 156, 157, 158, 164, 165, 166 September 11, in the US, 41 Smith, Ian, 254 Somalia, 4, 29, 44, 48, 63, 64, 69, 70, 72, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 80, 84, 85, 96, 100, 152, 162, 186, 191 Sovereignty, 7, 14, 52 stabilization force, 206, 225 state building, 11, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 157, 158, 164, 165, 183 state-centric approach, 1, 5, 9 Sudan Liberation Army (SLA), 155 terrorism, 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10, 14, 22, 48, 56, 59, 60, 65, 66, 70, 71, 72, 74, 75, 76, 79, 81, 82, 83, 84, 138 Terrorism Act, 59 Tswangirai, Morgan, 257

276

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Index

UN Commission on Human Rights (UNCHR), 40 UN Development Program (UNDP), 5

World Health Organization (WHO), 101, 130, 132, 143, 145, 270 World Trade Center, 60, 78

vulnerabilities, 2, 9, 11, 26, 47, 50, 52

Zambia, 25, 40, 63, 64, 92, 135, 173, 250, 256, 268 Zenawi, Meles, 75 Zeroual, Liamine, 68 Zulu, Shaka, 259

water management, 96, 104 water scarcity, 88, 91, 95, 101, 116

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