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Revisiting ‘Militancy’: Examining the Niger Delta

By Ben Tantua and Palash Kamruzzaman

This paper tells stories of the Niger Delta. It reveals the process and structure of the conflict which started from the rights to self-determination and resource control by ‘militant groups’ in that region. We examine narratives of the conflict  in the words of dominant elites and ‘militia activists’, and argue that ‘militia actions’ that appear to challenge the legitimacy and authority of the Nigerian state over control of natural resource (Oil), is embedded in complex web and porous boundary of informal and formal interactions with politicians and ‘military’ leaders. This provides the opportunity for the elites to maintain their control over oil and for some ‘militia leaders’ to bargain and negotiate with the authorities often motivated by self-interest.

Introduction

The discovery of oil in the Niger Delta region in 1956 generated hope, expectations and opportunities to improve the welfare of local people. However, the reality is, national elites comprised of politicians and (former) military personnel, have been the principle beneficiaries of oil revenues in contrast to local communities who so far seen little or no benefits. In Nigeria, prior to the discovery of oil, exploration of natural resources was primarily controlled by the regional authorities. This (such as Land Use Act 1978; and Decree 13, 1996) dispossessed local people from the rights to land ownership paving the grounds for petro-capitalism.’[1] This can be seen as one of the key factors for various aspects of grievances  (Onuoha, 2005; Oluwanyi, 2010; Obi, 2009), and feelings of marginalisation among the local communities  (Tamuno, 1970; Odukoya, 2006), particularly for the ethnic groups such as Ijaws and Ogonis. It is argued that such feelings of grievances and marginalisation have triggered the emergence of protests against the state  (Watts, 2007; Omeje, 2005). Initially, the protests were non-violent but later adopted a violent character where the protesting groups engaged in bombing of oil pipelines, kidnapping of oil workers and confrontation with Nigerian military  (Cuvelier, et al, 2014; Ukiwo, 2007). Conflicts generated from oil-governance policies, therefore, can be seen from multiple lenses. On the one hand, it may appear as a rebellious action of protesting groups engaged in criminal activities for private gains, often described as ‘militia’ activities in various (un)official narratives.[2] On the other hand, it might appear to be the case where some groups are fighting for their ‘rightful share’ (Ferguson, 2015) expressing their grievances, frustrations, and resistance from a distorted livelihood and lack of participation in the oil/natural resource management.

In this paper, we investigate to what extent is the ‘militia activities’ in the Niger Delta a serious resistance movement that confronts the state power and seek to provide an alternative. We look into the conflict and the process of labelling ‘militia activities’ which started from the control and/or rights over the natural resources.[3] We explore how the Nigerian state (along with petro-capitalist allies) still maintains its monopoly over oil governance, while the activities of these so called ‘militia’ groups, to a large extent, remain unsuccessful in establishing their claim over the share/redistribution of natural resources. In doing so, we analyse the views expressed by some of the members of these groups who proclaim to be fighting for self-determination and rightful share/control over natural resources. The state has however, adopted various strategies to dissuade their activities including co-optation, amnesty and offering some form of political legitimacy where some ‘militia’ leaders are being brought to the negotiating tables in order to minimise the negative effects of conflicts. These strategies point towards the existence and functioning of assorted clientele networks among state, multinational companies (MNCs) and ‘militia’ leaders. Evidence presented here add to the existing scholarship by exploring the process/rationale behind the sustained nature of conflicts and their impacts on Nigeria’s broader political economy with a particular focus on oil governance.

The structure of the paper is as follows: the first section offers a background on conflict; oil governance and ‘militia’ resistance in Niger delta. This also reveals the dissatisfaction and frustrations of ethnic minorities that triggered ‘militia’ activities in the region. The second section offers empirical evidence collected from members of some ‘militia’ groups, key members of the rights groups and academics working on this issue. Empirical evidence was collected in between July 2010 and January 2011. A total of 35 semi-structured interviews was conducted through purposive sampling from seven specific sites across three states (Rivers, Bayelsa, and Cross Rivers States). Informed consents were obtained prior to the interviews and respondents’ pseudonym have been used in presenting their views. The third section makes an analysis of the views represented in the interviews contrasting with the official and unofficial narratives of the state about ‘militia’ groups and the conflict. Through a critical lens, we focus on the complexity of diverse interactions for creating/constructing intersubjective meanings expressed in these interviews where different narratives are being (re)produced for competing interests. We draw a conclusion in the final section.

An overview of Conflict, Oil governance, and Resistance/Militancy in Niger Delta

Oil and politics are inseparable in Nigeria. Oil wealth often influence and shape the structure of Nigeria’s politics and economy. Its significance inform a contest for power and authority, where ethnic minorities who inhabit in oil bearing land continually seek to reassert claim to own land and oil under it. Resource laws such as the Land Use Act of 1978 and Decree 13, 1996, vested legitimate rights and authority over resource ownership in the federal government. Meaning the Nigerian State negotiates the terms and conditions for oil exploration with the multinational companies (MNCs). The dispossession of right to participate by local communities in oil extraction through the above mentioned Acts/Decrees reveal that the power chiefly lies with the state (along with military/political elites and the MNCs) – one key component behind the lingering conflict/‘militia’ activities in Niger Delta.

Historically, minority/ethnic groups have been living with fear of domination and feelings of political oppression in Niger Delta. This is evident from previous quests for regional autonomy and the struggles for political power amongst the minority groups of Nigeria further increasing the tension among majority-minority ethnic groups (Ukiwo, 2011). This had triggered the first ‘militia’ action in 1966 initiated by Isaac Adaka Boro, leader of the Niger Delta Volunteer Force (NDVF), and subsequent Biafra civil war in 1967. Both incidents threatened to secede as the Niger Delta Republic and the Biafra Republic, respectively. They seem to have spurred the forms of contemporary ‘militia actions’ which continues today. Moreover, the discovery of oil created localised perception political oppression, which enabled the NDVF’s ideology of self-determination to start a process for contestation challenging the legitimacy and authority of the Nigerian state over its governance oil. The military regime took no time in describing Adaka Boro/NDVF’s action as ‘militant activities’ and imposed a number of political barriers (e.g. killing and imprisoning a large number of activists including Adaka Boro) to prevent the activities of protesting groups further. Nigeria’s heterogeneous cultural diversity also contributes to the identity politics and plays crucial role in understanding socio-economic and political foundations of the Niger Delta conflict. It informs the unequal distribution of resources within ethnic groups engaged in the struggles for power and access to resource benefits. The history of resistances, therefore, can be traced back to pre-discovery of oil, such as, from the 1895 Akassa raid against British traders (Alagoa, 1960), to perceptions of marginalisation in the 1950’s, Calabar Ogoja Rivers Movement (CORM), the armed rebellion of Adaka Boro in 1966, the Non-violent Movement for the Survival of Ogoni People (MOSOP) of Ken-Saro Wiwa, and the contemporary Movement for Emancipation of Niger Delta (MEND) which morphed from the fallouts of the historical gathering of Ijaw Youths at Kaiama community in the early 1990s. This chronology of resistance/movements in the Niger Delta manifest the ongoing tensions among ethnic groups and the state – against the latter’s monopoly over natural resource governance.

Given this context, the next section offers empirical evidence obtained from the members of so-called ‘militant’ groups in understanding their views on conflict/protest/violence. The significance of these views can be explained by the words of Wasser (2014), where he insists that violent campaigns originates from the nature of state engagements to non-violent processes. Violent conflicts in Niger Delta region are grounded in historical discontent of resource ownership (Ako, 2011). The demand for access to resource control offer a common platform for different ‘militant’ groups, who may share the common perceptions of exploitation and limited spaces for political participation. Thus, the porous boundaries of conflict, violence and politics inform the nature of state response to social mobilisation (Wood, 2015). They also shed new light in understanding the patterns of violence and repertoire of contention by various actors in Niger Delta.

Empirical evidences:  Marginalisation, Political Oppression, protest and ‘militancy’ revisited

The feeling of being politically oppressed among the ethnic minorities seem to be a key component of the Niger Delta conflict. This was highlighted in the views offered by several interviewees. For instance Kowa, locates protest/resistance by the ‘militia groups’ in response to political oppression before oil was first discovered in Nigeria. He explains that this set the context for struggles for political power in which minority groups were submerged under the regional authority of Eastern majority Igbos. According to Kowa:

Militancy in the Niger Delta region is a combination of series of struggles, dating back to the Adaka Boro revolt […] because of the injustice and minority status of the inhabitants of the region, we needed to be separated from  Eastern region […] These events existed before oil came into prominence.

Before 1956, the constitutional provision stipulated a structure of regional autonomy that allowed 50 percent of resource benefits to regions, based on derivation principle.  After Nigeria’s independence in 1960, this was gradually reduced by the state accentuating the protest and resistance from the minority ethnic groups. The centralised structure of oil governance, amongst other features, spurred a struggle for power along the ethnic lines, and became evident in the nature of political party formations in the country.[4] Such structure of political party formations in the early 1960s, along with feeling of deprivation, informed the action of Adaka Boro and created an influence among other protesting groups in Niger Delta. Protest groups have been viewed as platforms of collective actions in which contemporary ‘militias’ appear to hinge on similar ideology of ‘self-determination and resource control’. This was coherent with the views of Timidi who insisted that the lack of basic socio-economic amenities in communities spurred the resistance/conflict in the region.[5] His response, like other ‘militants’, made reference to Adaka Boro and Ken Saro Wiwa as leaders who inspire much of current ‘militia’ actions. This also shows how past experience of exploitation can evoke contemporary collective action.

We have been fighting for the course of the Niger Delta for years. People like Isaac Adaka Boro came on board, he died, and Ken Saro Wiwa came […] you know we are the people that are feeding the whole country, but if you come to my community, there is no electricity, no road, no drinking water, nothing, and nothing.

Military rules, along with political oppression, further increased the tensions and violence in Niger Delta. From 1966 to Nigeria’s first transition from military to democratic rule in 1979, the Delta witnessed series of sustained brutality and killings from Nigeria’s military authorities. Non-violent protest/agitation which began as writing protest letters to oil company management to demonstrations against these companies often ended with the brute force of oil company securities, supported by the military regimes. Such instances eventually gave these protests some violent attributes as was illustrated in the aftermath of Ogele protest. The case of Ogele procession represents a key historical moment of state brutality as well as conscious awakening to resort to arms in defence of making claims for the legitimate rights (perceived by the protesting groups) over oil and other natural resources in Niger Delta. The following was described by Otuan.[6]

…We were protesting in a non-violent way. We carried placards and leaves without weapons or guns. But in all the protests to express our grievances, the federal government would use military might, not police but the military might […] along the hospital road junction, some soldiers led by army Captain opened fire on us. They stood in three lines; the first group kneeled on the floor, other groups a little higher and others standing. They opened fire and four persons were killed. I personally carried a boy from Ogbia whose stomach was torn by bullet in wheelbarrow to a clinic nearby (emphasise original, expressed in interview).

The repercussion of the Ogele procession thus seem to have given a new meaning and understanding of protest amongst these groups, particularly the Ijaws. As Boas (2012) asserts that to stand against the repression of the state and pervasive culture of impunity, the local oil bearing communities engendered a shift from non-violent approach to violence. It induced a belief that to deal with state brutality violence is not only necessary, but also an appropriate tool to carry on with. As Pato described it regarding the demands of Ijaws.[7]

…The picture we gathered from that moment is that government was not open to peaceful negotiation and resolution of the crisis […] it is the introduction of violence by Ijaw youths that got attention from the government. The government does not believe in advocacy, so the process for advocacy have not helped the engagement of communities in the Niger Delta with the federal government.

The repression from state brutality as a response to protest and agitations eventually led to arms confrontation as was also illustrated by Ololo.[8]

We are fighting with the government to let them know about the Niger Delta situation […] we cannot go to Abuja to fight them, so we have to destroy pipelines and embark on illegal bunkering business. The federal government got involved in Ogele and since then we started shooting at them too.

Between 2006 and July 2009, the coordinated attacks by ‘militant groups’ such as the MEND accounted for about 300 deaths and 119 oil workers being held hostage.[9] The daily oil production also drastically reduced during this time, from 2.6 million barrels of oil per day to just 700,000 barrels per day.[10] This was despite $3 billion dollars annual spending by the federal government and oil companies on security to protect oil facilities in the region. No surprise the state and oil companies labelling these protests as ‘militant activities’. Furthermore, there have been efforts to buy-out different factions of these groups, bring them to negotiating table, offering them amnesty and spaces in mainstream politics. One such process is informal payments made by some governors to ‘militant’ leaders in the Niger Delta illustrating another important aspect that has helped the conflict and ‘militancy’ to continue. Payments like this serve a dual purpose. First, this provides state governors an opportunity to use his discretion to spend money from the treasury (generally without much question) to ‘buy peace’ through security votes and capitalise on the tension and insecurity. Second, this also offers political leaders a means to strengthen relations with key ‘militias’ for election times. However, such payments are often unevenly distributed among the ranks of ‘militia’ groups and might raise the question whether these groups are motivated by greed or grievances (Sutcliffe, 2012; Le Billion 2005; Watts, 2007; Cuvelier, et al, 2014). As Kavelli offered an insight about the payments made by the government to ‘militants’[11] :

…Yes, it is the government that is paying our salaries while we are in Camp. These are secrets that I am telling you. It is the government that is paying! I have seen things, I cannot speak about […] for the ordinary soldiers, they pay us 70,000 naira [12] but we are the people taking the risks, we die for nothing. You see, I know the amount because my uncle receives a salary of 1.6 million naira [13] from the government every month.

The introduction of amnesty programme depicts the co-option process by the state and also draws attention to a shift in the ideology among the ‘militia’ groups. Amnesty programmes aim to bring the ‘militants’ into formal and informal structures of resource benefit, by opening up spaces for key ‘militia’ leaders to gain access to mainstream politics. This is elucidated in a media statement of MEND’s spokesperson Jomo Gbomo, who accused the Niger Delta Peace and Conflict Resolution Committee (NDPCRC) for using the health of the late President Yar Adua to delay talks in order to exploit the amnesty process and offer bribes to create factions among the ‘militant’ leaders (The Punch, 2009). [14] This shows a fluid and cohesive clandestine network of patronage that help shaping and sustaining ‘militancy’ in the region. This also reveals a shift in the ideology of various protesting groups as succinctly explained by an interviewee who simply gave his name as Shine ya eye, during an interview:

Can you imagine the MEND war-horse being hinged on an insignificant amnesty programme? I thought MEND fought for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta people. Everything has suddenly narrowed down to the amnesty allocation of agitation.

A shift in the ideology seem to have frustrated some members of these groups, as an ex-militant ’General’ was criticising fellow ‘militias’ for being greedy. His views clearly suggests that there must be some networks among the ‘militias’ and political elites, considering the high cost of establishing and maintaining a camp as well as the tangible and intangible resources needed for ‘militia’ movement to be successful. [15]

Fighting is not a poor man’s business. A man with just 10 million naira [16] cannot go to the creeks because that amount cannot last beyond four days. So any person who wants to return to the creeks—that is the person’s decision; the return to the armed struggle cannot be one man’s decision. It has to be a decision taken by many other stakeholders in the region.

Analysis

As can be seen from the empirical evidence presented above, a number of pertinent features such as minority status, political oppression, the labelling and meanings behind ‘militia’ action can be perceived as main reasons for continued violent conflict in Niger Delta region. These observations add to various narratives of conflict and labelling extending further whether so called ‘militia’ actions are motivated by greed or grievances, and how the claim for ‘rightful share’ are intricately dovetailed in this process. They also offer further insights about shifting ideologies among some ‘militia’ members/leaders. Identifying different mechanisms of co-option, political patronage and material benefits offered by various (in)formal actors also contribute to the political economy of resource governance. From a critical perspective, the Niger Delta region can be described as an arena of contested entitlements, a theatre of struggles where the politics of recognition are being played out. In this particular case, we reveal how the protests of the Ogonis and Ijaws shaped a particular form of resistance and collective action. It partly demonstrates the political opportunities or constraints for the success or failure of movements, and state capacity for repression. Also, the legislative laws of resource extraction have been central to the conflict surrounding the Ogonis and Ijaws, as well as other ethnic minorities of the delta. The narratives and meanings behind ‘militia’ action are socially constructed. Protesting groups were labelled or framed by the state/media in various ways, as oil thieves, criminals, kidnappers, cult gangs or restive youths. While ‘militants’, on the other hand, see themselves as freedom fighters, liberators or resource agitators. These labelling manifest a particular kind of reality with varied meanings and interpretations both at the individual and collective levels. The meaning of ‘militancy’, therefore, is not straightforward. They cannot be conceptualised within a binary framework of true or false, bandits/common criminals or freedom fighters.[17] They are socially constructed within the narratives of the state, powerful elites and various other groups. This must be also noted that, for some ‘militia’, such activities can be an opportunity to make a living. As some members being recruited in ‘militia’ groups in the context of their desperation to survive (often indirectly paid by the state or other political sources), while others drift into ‘militant’ activities having become involved in oil theft, in order for their subsistence. Arguments presented here point towards the process that the labelling of insurgents under broad categorisation such as ‘common criminals’ can be misleading (Ballentine and Sherman, 2003), that ignores how livelihood strategies could intermix with politically motivated actions and can co-exist simultaneously (Watts, 2007). Moreover, some ‘militant’ leaders may appear to be driven by the potential to secure both material and political influence. The prospects for them to access oil benefits are intrinsically linked to the role of political elites and porous boundaries of patronage relationships which underlie the continuity of ‘militancy’ in the Niger Delta  (Kew and Phillips, 2013). The rise in the number of militants from 150 in 1966 to 26, 356 by 2014, did not emerge out of spontaneous, frenzied mobilisation, but through a series of historical events within formal and informal structure, socio-political events and shared perceptions. [18]

Conclusion

The Niger Delta conflict is rooted within the history and culture of resource governance in Nigeria. A decentralised structure of the country, prior to its independence in 1960, enabled a regional autonomy over resource ownership. The discovery of oil in 1956, introduced a radical shift from pre-existing regional authority structure to a more centralised resource governance policies which dispossessed the rights of recognition, participation and ownership of local people in the oil governance. This feeling of political oppression, along with a perception of minority status, spurred a number of key protest groups followed by pockets of non-violent protests from communities that faced state brutality and repression under military regimes between 1966 and 2006. The state response to non-violent protest, subsequently led to the emergence of armed ‘militia’ groups, the Movement for the Emancipation of Niger Delta (MEND) in 2006. This paper has attempted to unpack how the complexities are informed by broader political-economy structure of resource governance in Nigeria through the voices of the ‘militants’. We argue that unless we understand the significance and political dynamics of resource governance, we cannot understand the mobilising process and articulation of ‘militancy’ in the Niger Delta. Particularly, how it evolves within various networks of power relationships and social interactions over access to resource benefits. Whilst, the NDVF and MEND emerged to challenge the legitimacy and authority of the state over oil governance, under an ideological platform of self-determination and resource control, the actions and activities of ‘militant’ groups over the time may have shifted from the framing of self-determination and resource control to personal interest/greed (at least for some). Thus we contend that the cognitive world of ‘militants’ and ‘militancy’ in the Niger Delta is embedded in a complex web of formal and informal interactions with political actors and military elites which give significance and sustenance of the conflict in the Niger Delta. Although contemporary ‘militant groups’ tend to legitimise their actions from previous actions of NDFV, their ambitions/motivation are consistently hidden under the notion of self-determination. As in many ways, this has been compromised because of some leaders’ (or leaders of some factions) personal self-interest both in terms of political benefits or other material interests. The ideology of ‘militants’ that has changed over time is critical for understanding the process of mobilisation that gives conflict a more persisting nature. As illustrated in this paper, there are instances where ideology of ‘militias’ are strongly embedded in its historical origin (Adaka Boro and the Ogele procession). In other instances, the ideology tend to be weakened by negotiations between ‘militia’ leaders and political elites and/or MNCs. This reveals the porous boundaries of social and material transformation (exchange of guns for vote, money for pipeline protection, etc.) that enable some of them to gain status and wealth (Ako, 2011). Altogether these events indicate that ‘militants’ have gained prominence within the mainstream discussion of resource governance in contrast to the narrative that the militants are common criminals and bandits. This marriage between ‘militant’ leaders and politicians, serve a dual purpose. On the one hand, it provides the opportunity for some ‘militias’ to create their own praxis and ‘governable’ spaces in negotiating/bargaining with the state. While on the other hand, the national elites maintain their control over oil by largely ignoring the demand of the local population including ethnic minorities which results in spreading/continuing the violence.

Ben Tantua recently completed his PhD in International Development from the University of Bath (UK) and now teaches Development Economics at the Niger Delta University. Palash Kamruzzaman has degrees in Anthropology and Social Policy and teaches Politics and International Development at the University of Bath, UK. 

References

Alagoa, E., J, 1960. The Aksaa Raid 1895. Ibandan: Ibandan Univeristy Press.

Ako, R., 2011. The Struggle for Resource Control and Violence in the Niger Delta. In: C. Obi & S.A. Rustad, eds. Oil and Insurgency in the Niger Delta: Managing the complex politics of petro-violence. pp. 42-54. London: New York: Zed Books.

Ballentine, K., & Sherman, J., (2003). ‘Beyond Greed and Grievance: Reconsidering the Economic Dynamics of Armed Conflict’, in Ballentine, K., and Sherman, J., (eds) The Political Economy of Armed Conflict: Beyond Greed and Grievance. pp. 259-283. Boulder: Lynne Rienner.

Boas, M., 2012. MEND: The Nature of an Insurgency. Online. retrived from http://www.e-ir.info/2012/05/11/mend-the-nature-of-an-insurgency/ [accessed on 4 July 2015].

Cuvelier, J., Vlassenroot, K. & Olin, N., 2014. Resources, conflict and governance: A critical review. The Extractive Industries and Society, 1(2), pp. 340-350.

Ferguson, J. 2015, Give a Man a Fish: Reflections on the New Politics of Distribution, Durham: Duke University Press

Ikelegbe, A., 2005. The Economy of Conflicts in the Oil Rich Niger Delta Region of Nigeria. Nordic Journal of African Studies, 14(2), pp. 208-234.

Kew, D. & Phillips, L., D., 2013. Seeking Peace in the Niger Delta: Oil, Natural Gas and Other Vital Resources. New England Journal of Public Policy, 24(1), pp. 1-18.

Le Billon, P., 2005. Fuelling war: Natural resources and armed conflicts. New York: Routledge.

Obi, C., 2009. Nigeria’s Niger Delta: Understanding the Complex Drivers of Conflict.

Africa Development, Vol. XXXIV, No. 2, pp. 103–128.

Odukoya, A., O, 2006. Oil and Sustainable Development: A case study of the Niger Delta. Human Ecology, 20(4), pp. 249-258.

Oluwanyi, O., 2010. Oil and Youth Militancy in Nigeria’s Niger Delta region. Journal of Asian and African Studies, 45(3), pp. 309-325.

Omeje, k., 2005. Oil,Conflicts in Nigeria:Contending Issues and Perspectives of the Local Niger Delta Issue. New Political Economy, 10 (3), pp. 321 – 334.

Onuoha, A., 2005. From Conflict to Collaboration: Building Peace in Nigeria’ Oil Producing Communities.: London: Adonis and Abbey Publisher Limited.

Osaghae, E., E., 1991. Ethnic Minorities and Federalism in Nigeria. African Affairs, 90(359), pp. 237-258.

Sutcliffe, J., 2012. Militancy in the Niger Delta: Petro-Capitalism and Politics of Youth. E-International Relation Studies [Online]. Retrived from http://www.e-ir.info/2012/06/25/militancy-in-the-niger-delta-petro-capitalism-and-the-politics-of-youth/ [accessed on 12 September 2015].

Tamuno, N., Tekena, 1970. Separatist Agitations in Nigeria Since 1914. Journal of  Modern African Studies, 8(4), pp. 563-584.

Ukiwo, U., 2011. The Nigerian state, oil, and the Niger Delta. In: C. Obi & S. Aas Rustad, eds. Oil and Insurgency in the Niger Delta: Managing the complex politics of petro-violence. London: Zed Books, pp. 17-27.

Ukiwo, U., 2007. From Pirates to Militants: A Historiacl Perspective on Anti-state and Anti- Oil company mobilisation among the Ijaw of warri Western Niger delta. Afrcan Affairs, 106(106), pp. 425-610.

Wasser, L., 2014. Ballot boxes, Bushwhackers and Bebsi-Soaked Bandanas: Calculating Contention from Appalacjia to Arab World. Council on Middle East Studies (CMES) Annual Report. Yale University. Online. Retrieved from http://www.yale.edu/macmillan/annualreports/2013-14CMES.pdf [accessed on 23 September 2015]

Watts, M. J.,  2007. Petro-Insurgency or Criminal Syndicate?: Conflict and Violence in the Niger Delta. Review of African Political Economy, 34(114), pp. 637-660.

Watts, M.J., 2004. Antinomies of community: some thoughts on geography, resources and empire. Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers, 29(2), pp. 195-216.

Wood, J., E., 2015. Social Mobilization and Violence in Civil War and their Social Legacies  In: Donatella Della Porta  & M. Diani, eds. Political Science, Comparative Politics, Political Behavior. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Notes

[1] Petro-capitalism describes a clientele networks of a few state political elites and multinational oil companies exercising monopoly over the exploration, management and resource benefits at the expense of local communities in Niger Delta (Watts, 2004).

[2] The terms militant and militancy may mean different things to different readers/audiences. Interpretations of these terms are highly subjective. One might point to the common saying ‘one person’s terrorist is another’s freedom fighter’. Hence, in this work, we have used the related terms such as militants, militancy, and militia within inverted commas (‘…’).

[3] We feel that it is important to understand who label whom and in what capacity. How this labelling gains normalcy as labelling refers to acts of valuation and judgement based on preconceived notions and perceptions of individuals or groups (Wood, 1985).

[4] For example, many ethnic groups in the North were affiliated to Northern People’s Congress (NPC), the West had its Action Group and the Eastern had National Council for Nigeria and Cameroons (NCNC).

[5] An active ‘militia’ in his 30s,unemployed school drop-out who joined a militia group.

[6] An activist of Niger Delta’s human and social rights.

[7] An activist of Niger Delta’s human and social rights.

[8] An active member of one the local ‘militia’ groups.

[9] Niger Delta Technical Committee Report, 2009.

[10] Official records from Nigeria’s special adviser on amnesty for Niger Delta militants (Year of publication?).

[11] An active member of one the local ‘militia’ groups.

[12] About £270 pounds.

[13] About £6,000 pounds.

[14] According to Jomo Gbomo, Abbe (Nigeria’s Defence Minister) and his cohorts, members of the Niger Delta Peace and Conflict Reconciliation Committee (NDPCRC), instead of encouraging the presidency to address core issues as demanded by true agitators for justice in the Niger Delta, was busy inaugurating one dubious committee after another to continue stealing funds allocated for the development of the Niger Delta. He also claimed that the government has been offering bribes to militants who surrendered under the amnesty programme in the form of contracts. In another media comment accredited to a Joint Task Force (JTF) commander in the region it suggested that a close look at the Niger Delta situation today will reveal that some key former militant commanders and a few lucky apprentices are now well-established businessmen. They now live in splendour and affluence. The on-going rumble in the creeks has been orchestrated by former apprentice militants who feel left behind by their superiors (This Day, 2010).

[15] Publish in This Day, newspaper report, 28 November, 2010.

[16] £10,000 pounds.

[17] According to (Sutcliff, 2012), a petro-capitalist lens label these people as common criminals or bandits who significantly threatens Nigeria’s oil economy and fragile democracy.

[18] The number was given by Special Adviser on  Government run Amnesty Programme.

Lessons from Latin America

By David Seddon

We have now posted three issues in the series on ‘Popular Protest, Social Movements and Class Struggle’. The main objective of this project is to report, describe and analyse on a comparative basis the numerous examples of progressive collective action by ordinary African men, women and youth across the continent, as they occur, and to situate them in their wider context – that of the combined and uneven development of capitalism and class struggle on a world scale.

A central concern is to provide the basis for an appreciation of the extent to which the instances of popular protest and the actions of social movements described and analysed can be seen as part of the long (up-and-down) struggle of workers and peasants world-wide to defend and improve their lives and their livelihoods, to increase the scope for sustainable social, economic and political development, and even, on occasion to contribute to the transformation of the very conditions of their existence – in other words to ‘make history’.

As this project is a part of the new ROAPE website initiative, its emphasis is inevitably and appropriately on what is happening in Africa. But it is implicit in the project approach that the discussion of popular protest, social movements and class struggle in Africa should not be separate or detached from a discussion of popular protest, social movements and class struggle in other continents (for example in Asia, Latin America, North America & Europe) and ultimately, world-wide.

With this in mind, we have obtained permission from a sister medium – The Dawn News:  International Newsletter of Popular Struggles – to reproduce (with minor editorial changes) an article that appeared on 19 April 2016 in The Dawn, which examines the rise and apparent fall of what is referred to here as ‘post-liberalism’ under progressivist governments over the last ten years.

David Seddon is a researcher and scholar who has written extensively on social movements, class struggles and political transitions across the developing world.

‘Latin America: the End of a Cycle or the Depletion of Post-Neoliberalism’

By Francois Houtart

Latin America was the only continent in which alternatives to neo-liberalism were adopted by several countries. After a series of military dictatorships, supported by the US and implementers of the neo-liberal project, reactions were quick to emerge. The peak was the rejection, in 2005, of the FTAA, a Free Trade Treaty with the US and Canada, as a result of the joint action of social movements, left-wing political parties, NGOs and Christian groups.

Progressivist governments

The new governments of Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, Nicaragua, Venezuela, Ecuador, Paraguay and Bolivia carried out policies that re-established the State in its role of wealth redistribution, reorganization of public services and in particular, providing access to health, education, and investment in public works. A more favorable distribution was negotiated for the entry of raw materials, between the multinational companies and the national state (oil, gas, minerals, and agricultural exports) and the favorable situation, for more than a decade, allowed significant revenue for the mentioned nations

Talking about an ‘end of cycle’ introduces the idea of a certain historical determinism, which suggests the inevitability of alternation of power between the left and the right – an inadequate concept when the aim is to replace the hegemony of the oligarchies with popular and democratic regimes. However, many factors may suggest the depletion of post-neoliberal experiences, assuming the hypothesis that these new governments were post-neoliberal and not post-capitalist in nature.

Of course, it would be delusional to think that in the capitalist world, in the midst of a systemic —and therefore particularly acute — crisis, the immediate establishment of socialism could be possible. There are also historical references on this subject. The NEP (New Economic Policy) in the 1920s in the USSR is an example to study critically. In China and Vietnam, Deng Xio Ping or doi moi (renewal) reforms reveal the impossibility of developing the productive forces without taking into account the law of value, that is, the market (which is supposed to be regulated by the State). Cuba adopted, in a slow yet cautious way, measures that were intended to invigorate the economy, without losing fundamental obligations to social justice and respect towards the environment.

Then, the issue of necessary transitions arises.

 A post-neoliberal government

The project of the progressivist governments of Latin America to rebuild an economic and political system capable of repairing the disastrous social effects of neoliberalism was no easy task. Restoring the State’s social functions meant in fact a reconfiguration, and always one under control of a conservative administration quite incapable of building an instrument of radical change. Venezuela’s case involved a parallel state… made possible thanks to the oil rent. In the rest of the cases, new ministries were created and renewed, as were their officials. The State that emerged after this process had, in general, a centralizing and hierarchical nature, with a charismatic leader, with tendencies towards making social movements an instrument of change, and promoting an often paralyzing bureaucracy. There was corruption, in some cases, on a large scale.

The political will to try to escape from neo-liberalism had positive effects: an effective struggle against poverty for dozens of millions of people, better access to health and education, public investment in infrastructure —in short, at least a partial redistribution of the national product, which was significantly increased by the rise in the price of raw materials. This made it possible to ensure benefits for poor people without seriously affecting the income of the rich. In this context, pan-Latin American organizations were created or strengthened, i.e. Mercosur, Celac, Unasur, and finally ALBA – an initiative involving Venezuela and ten other countries.

In the latter case, this was a new and innovative perspective on cooperation, which did not involve competition, but complementarity and solidarity, because, in fact, the internal economy of these progressive states remained under the control of private capital, with its own methods of accumulation, especially in areas connected with mining and oil, finance, telecommunications – even ignoring the ‘externalities’, meaning environmental and social damage. This gave place to reactions from social movements.

The mass media remained almost completely in the hands of big international or national capital, despite the efforts made to correct that virtual monopoly – an example of this effort is that of the national media laws of Telesur.

What kind of development?

The model of development adopted was inspired by the 1960s, the years of ‘developmentalism’, when the United Nations Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean (ECLAC) promoted import substitution and an increase of national production. Its application in the 21st century, in a favourable juncture for raw material prices, combined with an economic plan focused on the growth of production and the distribution of national income without transforming the underlying social structure (for example, without undertaking agrarian reform), culminated in ‘the re-primarisation’ [return to an emphasis on primary products – DS] of Latin American economies and an increase in reliance on monopoly capitalism, leading to a relative de-industrialization across the continent.

The project gradually became an uncritical ‘modernization’ of society, with different emphases, depending on the country concerned, with some, like Venezuela stressing community participation. This gave way to a growth in the ranks of the middle-class consumers of imported goods. Mega-projects were promoted and the traditional rural sector was abandoned in favour of agribusiness, which is very destructive of ecosystems and biodiversity, and even endangers food sovereignty. There was no real agrarian reform. The reduction of poverty, especially through support measures (as in the case of neo-liberal states), hardy reduced social inequality, still the highest in the world.

Could it have been done differently?

One may ask, of course, if it would have been possible to ‘do it differently’. A radical transformation (revolution) tends to result in armed intervention and the United States has all the necessary apparatus for that: military bases, allies in the region, the deployment of the Fifth Fleet around the continent, satellite information and AWACS aircraft, and there is historical proof that interventions are not ruled out: eg in Santo Domingo, “Bay of Pigs” in Cuba, Panamá, Granada. On the other hand, the strength of monopoly capital is such that agreements made in oil fields, mining, farming, etc. quickly give rise to new dependencies. It must be added that there is resistance to the implementation of autonomous monetary policies from international finance institutions, without even mentioning the flight of capital to tax havens, as shown recently by ‘the Panama Papers’.

On the other hand, the orientation of the leaders of those progressivist governments and their advisers was to ‘modernize’ society, regardless of major contemporary achievements, such as the importance of respecting the environment and ensuring the regeneration of nature, a holistic view of reality, based on a critique of ‘modernity’ driven by the logic of the market, and finally the recognition of the importance of the cultural factor. Interestingly, the actual policies were developed in contradiction with, and despite, some pretty innovative Constitutions in these areas (law of nature, “good life”).

The new governments were well received by the masses and their leaders were re-elected on several occasions with quite impressive results. In fact, poverty has declined significantly and the middle classes have doubled in just a few years. There was genuine popular support for these progressive governments. Finally, we must also add that the absence of a credible “socialist” reference after the fall of the Berlin Wall has not encouraged the introduction of another more radical model to replace the post-neoliberal one. All these factors suggest that it was difficult, objectively and subjectively, to expect a different kind of orientation.

New contradictions

However, this explains the rapid evolution of internal and external contradictions. The most dramatic of these were, obviously, the consequences of the crisis of world capitalism and in particular the (partially planned) huge drop of the prices of commodities, especially oil. Brazil and Argentina were the first countries that suffered the effects, immediately followed by Venezuela, Ecuador and Bolivia, which resisted better due to their considerable foreign exchange reserves. This directly affected employment and the potential for middle class consumption. Latent conflict with some social movements and sections of the left intelligentsia now became overt. The concentration of power, which until then had been tolerated as the price of progress, and (especially in some countries) corruption now became an apparently integral part of the political culture, provoking popular protest.

The right obviously took advantage of this situation to begin to recover its power and hegemony. Appealing to democratic values that it has never respected, it managed to regain the support of part of the electorate, taking power in Argentina, overcoming the parliamentary majority in Venezuela, putting into question the system in Brazil and consolidating itself in most cities of Ecuador and Bolivia. It tried to take advantage of the disappointment of some sectors in the performance of the progressive governments, particularly among indigenous peoples and the middle classes; it also relied on help from the United States to overcome the conflicts inside its own bloc, especially between traditional oligarchies and modern sectors.

In response to the crisis, the progressivist governments adopted increasingly market-friendly measures, to the extent that the ‘conservative restoration’ that they frequently denounced, was actually surreptitiously introduced within their own administrations. The ‘transitions’ that took place then became adaptations of capitalism to new ecological and social demands (modern capitalism) rather than steps towards a new post-capitalist paradigm involving agrarian reform, support to peasant agriculture, better taxation, another perspective on development, etc.).

This does not mean that we are facing the end of social struggles —indeed, the opposite is true. The solution lies, on the one hand, in bringing together the forces for more radical change inside and outside of governments to re-define a new project and the forms of the transition, and on the other hand, the reconstruction of autonomous social movements with goals aimed at the medium and long term.

François Houtart is a well-known Belgian Marxist Sociologist who has written extensively on anti-globalisation and social movements. 

Popular Protest & Social Movements – Part 3

By David Seddon

Our introductory piece in this series ended with a comparison of three countries – the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Burundi and Burkina Faso – in which the president had recently tried to extend his period of office and there had been significant popular protest against this move from democracy towards dictatorship. In our second piece, we examined recent events in those three countries in particular and then began to consider the wider implications of the erosion of democracy where elected presidents have extended – or attempted to extend – their term of office beyond the limits defined by the Constitution, as is the case in all too many African countries.

In this, the third in the series, we return again to the three countries initially considered to examine the very different trajectories followed by them over the last six months, and extend the comparison to include two others – also in Central Africa.   

 

Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC)

On 9 October 2015, Kris Berwouts commented in African Arguments that ‘President Kabila faces challenges on a number of fronts, from the opposition to the grassroots to members of his own inner circle’, and asked: ‘How much longer can he hold on?’ While the final answer to that question cannot yet be given, there have been significant developments in the DRC since the eruption of popular protest and violence clashes in the streets in September 2015 discussed in the last piece.

Citizen Front 2016

Through November and December 2015, various opposition forces were able to come together for the first time to form Citizen Front 2016 – a large coalition of political parties and civil society organisations. In January 2016, Citizen Front plan  held numerous ‘conferences’, followed by church services, at an estimated 44 locations across Kinshasa, to commemorate the killing of some 40 or so opposition demonstrators by security forces in January a year before, during the upsurge of popular protest discussed in our previous pieces. Some ‘conferences’ went ahead on the anniversary of the protests (19 January); others were stopped from taking place.  Many of the organisers and activists associated with these ‘conferences’ were arrested. It is still unclear how many were arrested on the anniversary day – some put the number at around 40; others at above 100. 

“Early in the morning, the government sent soldiers and policemen to the site allotted to me and my party where they blocked our access and arrested five of my activists,” said Martin Fayulu, a leading figure within the Citizen Front. “They told the priest to stop the mass, not only here but at all the other sites too.” Albert Moleka – a founding member of the Citizen Front and a veteran of Congolese politics – was supposed to attend the conference in Ngiri Ngiri, but said: “The regime wants no opposition demonstrations in Kinshasa at all”, according to Al Jazeera in its report on the ‘conferences’.

Both Albert Moleka and Vital Kamerhe, a Citizen Front heavyweight who finished third in what many regard as the flawed presidential elections in 2011, both claim that the police were assisted by machete-wielding thugs loyal to the DRC’s president, Joseph Kabila, who harangued and intimidated opposition activists. The United Nations’ mission in the DRC, MONUSCO, has not gathered any evidence to substantiate these allegations, but Jose Maria Aranaz, the director of the UN’s Joint Human Rights Office, told Al Jazeera that “there was a concerted effort by the police and the ANR [the intelligence agency] to impede the opposition’s demonstrations from taking place.”

Pierrot Mwanamputu, spokesperson for the Congolese National Police, justified the clampdown by saying that the organisers had published leaflets of “seditious character calling on the population to rebel against” the government and had not secured proper authorisation – something opposition leaders insist was not required. He also declared that everyone detained was soon released.

The census – a pretext for Kabila’s third term?

Readers will recall that protesters took to the streets of the capital and other cities in the DRC in January 2015 to oppose a draft law that would allow Kabila to extend his stay in power beyond his current mandate, which ends in December 2016. The law called for a new, nationwide census to serve as the basis for the voter list and distribution of parliamentary seats – an undertaking that could take years in a country as vast and poorly connected as DRC. The opposition saw it as an attempt by Kabila and his supporters to buy time during which he could engineer a modified constitution that would allow him to run for a third term in office.

The census provision was removed from the legislation that was subsequently passed, but the opposition says it was only ever one of numerous methods available to Kabila to delay the holding of elections. The most effective method, some say, has been to undermine the workings of the Independent National Electoral Commission (CENI), chiefly by withholding funds allocated to it in the national budget. Lambert Mende, the communications minister, has denied that the government could block the electoral process and that CENI, not the government, is charged with organising elections.

But this is the electoral commission that the opposition believes to be independent only in name, and according to Jason Stearns, the director of the Congo Research Group at New York University, the opposition’s accusations are justified. “The political influence on the electoral commission has been clear,” says Stearns. “While, in theory, the political opposition can nominate members to the body, almost none of those are still recognised by the opposition.” Indeed, a timetable prepared by CENI in mid-January 2016 and distributed to embassies in Kinshasa shows that the electoral commission foresees it taking between 13 and 16 months just to update DRC’s electoral roll.

Will there be elections?

At its formal launch, just before Christmas, the Citizen Front gave the government an ultimatum: It must “unblock the electoral process” before the end of January and allow CENI to publish an electoral calendar. Should Kabila fail to meet this fast-approaching deadline, the opposition coalition promised to launch a programme of nonviolent resistance. This ‘red line’, however, was clearly optimistic, and few seriously expected a meaningful organisation of elections to get under way before February. Even the leaders of the Citizen Front doubted that much will change.

“The government won’t unblock the electoral process,” said Martin Fayulu. He thinks Kabila may nominate ‘a weak successor’, if he encounters a strong and united opposition, but believes that the president’s “first choice is to violate the constitution and carry on as president without elections.” Moleka suggests that “Kabila’s logic is that it’s him or chaos and civil war.” “Elections will not be held because of lack of political will. If President Kabila could run, then elections would take place,” according to Vital Kamerhe.

In February 2016, Carol Jean Gallo, writing in UN Dispatch from Bukavu in South Kivu (in eastern Congo), suggested that ‘Elections in the DRC could mean trouble’, commenting that the DRC is scheduled to hold national elections in November. And though that is months away, there are already signs that this volatile and conflict prone country may be headed toward a deep political crisis.’

Growing discontent

He reports that “here in Bukavu, South Kivu, in DRC, murmurs of discontent can be heard with regard to upcoming DRC elections. People understand that the DRC, like other countries in the region, are being watched – and international support depends in large part on respecting constitutional mandates. But opposition parties and activists in DRC think that Kabila is trying to be more clever and surreptitious about staying in power by coming up with ways of delaying the elections scheduled for November – a strategy known as glissement (“slippage” in French.)”

One of these is the suggestion, mooted in January 2015 – and which resulted in the upsurge of popular protest about which we wrote about – to introduce a new law to enable the revision of the voting register, as approximately seven million new voters between the ages of 18 and 22 still need to be registered, according to a report commissioned by CENI, the national electoral commission. The revision of the register has not started yet, and this has caused delays in local and provincial elections, which were supposed to start in October 2015 and take place before national elections. The UN Special Representative of the Secretary General (SRSG) for DRC said in January 2016 that Congo’s bilateral partners “are ready to support the revision of the voter register… It is a prerequisite [to elections]… time should not be wasted politicizing it.”

The spokesman of the ruling party has said that it would take two to four more years to organize credible elections. The delays and this kind of assertion have fueled opposition suspicions that the government – and the president – is merely seeking administrative and technical strategies to delay the elections and prolong the president’s term of office. According to Gallo: “right now, the two main glissement strategies people have been talking about in Bukavu are the claim that the government does not have enough money or resources to hold elections in November; and the government’s assertion that the DRC must complete a “national dialogue” before elections are held.” Kabila called for this dialogue about three months ago, and CENI estimates it will cost over $1 billion.

The president and pro-presidential majority see the dialogue as necessary to stabilize relations and “avoid a crisis” before elections are held. In a way, this is understandable in a country with the deep-seated divisions that DRC has. However, like many people I’ve spoken with in Bukavu, opposition groups have come out against the dialogue, believing it is a ploy to delay the elections; and the BBC reported in December that “activists believe violence would escalate if the election deadline is missed.” The top UN official in the country also said that the country is facing a “very real risks of unrest and violence” over the issue of potentially delaying elections.

Pressure for elections

The Citizen Front has demanded CENI publish a revised electoral calendar. Diplomats, however, from the African Union to the UN, have welcomed the national dialogue; ideally without causing a delay in the electoral calendar. As Gallo writes, “But here in Bukavu ordinary people – bartenders, taxi drivers, and even ex-rebels – have told me in no uncertain terms that, whether knowingly or inadvertently, these international actors are simply buying into Kabila’s shenanigans and that a comprehensive dialogue will only result in a delay in the elections, which will cause those fed up with the status quo to react with political violence.”

Interestingly, on 10 March this year, the European Parliament, in an emergency plenary sitting organised on the initiative of Maria Arena, MEP and member of the Group of the Progressive Alliance of Socialists and Democrats, called on the DRC government to meet deadlines required by the constitution for the organization of free and transparent elections, and on President Kabila to respect the constitution of his country. Maria Arena commented that, “elections are nine months away and there are no clear signs given of its organisation and worse is the indication that everything is being done so that the elections do not take place in time to allow Kabila hold on to power despite constitutional rules.”

The European Parliament noted that the Congolese constitution adopted and promulgated in February 2006 clearly gives the president the right to run for only two consecutive terms, and commented that “if President Joseph Kabila, who was elected in 2006 and re-elected in 2011, deeply respects the constitution, he cannot be a candidate to be his own successor.” It also called on international bodies to take responsibility, starting with the African Union to ensure a role of political mediator in the interest of stability in the region and then the United Nations to renew and extend the mandate of MONUSCO to be competent in civil protection in the electoral context.

It further called on the European Union “to commit to use all instruments at its disposal, be they political, diplomatic or economic, to lobby for the respect of the Constitution and the protection of local populations”, adding that it would favour political dialogue but indicating that targeted sanctions would be activated if necessary. It also called for an end to arbitrary arrests and intimidation, and the opening of prosecution of perpetrators of violations of human rights.

The pressure on President Kabila has increased significantly, both from within and also from outside, over the last few months. The formation of the Citizen Front 2016 is an important step in building a strong and coherent opposition to the various attempts by the regime to postpone elections and enable Kabila to prolong his period in office. The intervention by the European Parliament is also important at this point. The likelihood of elections taking place as proposed in November 2016 and of Kabila standing down in December 2016 as the constitution demands remains a matter of debate. But if there is no progress very soon and the glissement of which Gallo speaks continues, then there is likely to be another upsurge in popular protest within the country.

Burundi

The events of late 2015

In Burundi, as we discussed in the last issue, mass protests in April 2015 against President Pierre Nkurunziza’s plan to run for a third term in June 2016 led to a confrontation between the regime and the people, unleashing a cycle of violence that has become ever more vicious and pervasive over the last six months. On 2 November 2015, the BBC reported that “Burundi is at risk of returning to civil war following a recent upsurge in violence, the United Nations has warned. The unrest follows July’s re-election of President Pierre Nkurunziza for a third term. Opposition protests and a government crackdown have led to almost 200,000 people fleeing the country.” The International Crisis Group stated that:

Burundi again faces the possibility of mass atrocities and civil war. Escalating violence, increasingly hardline rhetoric and the continued stream of refugees (more than 200,000) indicate that divisions are widening, and the ‘national dialogue’ is doing little to relieve the mounting tensions. … it appears that President Pierre Nkurunziza and those around him intend to use force to end the protests that have been held in Bujumbura since April. The president made public an ultimatum giving the “criminals” seven days to lay down arms. Révérien Ndikuriyo, the Senate president … (used)… language unambiguous to Burundians and chillingly similar to that used in Rwanda in the 1990s before the genocide.

The UN Security Council discussed the growing violence in Burundi at a meeting on 9 November 2015 and adopted a resolution that called for urgent talks. From 9 to 11 November, Jürg Lauber undertook his first visit to Burundi in his capacity as Chair of the Burundi Configuration of the UN Peacebuilding Commission (PBC). He then went on to Uganda and Tanzania before returning to report to the PBC Burundi Configuration in New York. In the meanwhile, officials from Uganda and Kenya flew into Bujumbura for talks. 

Meanwhile, on the ground, the scale and also the intensity of the conflict had increased. On 11 December, three military camps and an officers’ school in Bujumbura came under fire. Several soldiers were reportedly killed, but the government said that the attacks failed. Nevertheless, fighting continued well into the day, although it had apparently stopped by 12 December. But then, a ‘massacre’ of some 87 people was reported in what The Guardian called “the worst outbreak of political violence since an attempted coup in April, with residents describing victims shot execution-style, some with hands bound behind their backs.” The army, on the other hand, stated that the death toll included eight members of the security forces and that the escalating violence came a day after an unidentified group carried out a trio of co-ordinated attacks on military targets.

An army spokesman, Colonel Gaspard Baratuza, initially claimed that those who had attempted to raid the Ngagara military camp had retreated and were pursued by security forces. When residents in Bujumbura discovered 39 bodies lying on the streets, Baratuza said the bodies belonged to ‘enemies’.  A report produced by Amnesty International shortly after this incident states, however, that “most of those killed on 11 December were residents of districts mostly inhabited by members of the minority Tutsi ethnic group”, adding that “they are considered by the authorities to be pro-opposition areas, as the protests that began in April against President Nkurunziza’s bid for a third term in office started in these neighbourhoods.”

This strongly suggests an ethnic dimension to the conflict in Burundi, even if this is not entirely clear-cut; and worries about the potential for a civil war in which ethnic differences come to play a dominant part were undoubtedly growing towards the end of the year, both inside Burundi and outside. The UN Security Council strongly condemned the violence and the US ambassador to the UN, Samantha Power, said the Security Council should look at “how the international community can protect civilians from mass violence, including for the possible deployment of a regionally led peace support operation.” State department spokesman, John Kirby, said the US was deeply concerned about the violence and called for neighbouring countries to put pressure on the government to start negotiations with opposition groups. In the meanwhile, the African Union announced in mid-December 2015 that it planned to send peacekeepers to Burundi, but the government rejected any such deployment and said that if the troops were sent without its permission, it would be considered an invasion.

On 23 December 2015, a former army general announced the formation of an opposition force with the stated objective of removing President Nkurunziza from power; the group called itself the Republican Forces of Burundi (FOREBU). In the meanwhile, Nkurunziza reiterated on 30 December that AU peacekeepers were not welcome and that the army would fight back if they tried to deploy in Burundi. His comments, coupled with stalled negotiations, left the situation suspended in uncertainty as the Uganda-led mediation group works to lay the foundation for ‘peace talks’ in Tanzania in January. Furthermore, there were now growing fears of a severe social and economic crisis, as major cuts in the health, education and agriculture sectors, envisaged in the 29 December 2015 austerity budget further heightened the vulnerability of many Burundians and limited their access to basic services. A shortage of essential drugs was already reported in the country; and besides health, major concerns remained in the protection, food security and nutrition sectors.

Developments in 2016

In early January 2016, Nkurunziza repeated his threat to counter any deployment of external peacekeepers after the African Union announced plans to send in 5,000 troops to protect civilians from escalating violence between government and rebel forces. On 9 January, the government refused to join peace talks with the opposition. On 14 January the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) reported that over 230,000 Burundians had now fled the country, while at least 15,000 others were internally displaced in two provinces. At least 400 people, mostly civilians, had been killed since 26 April 2015, with the numbers rising in the last few months and the largest number killed in one month being in December 2015, with 162 killed.

On 15 January 2016, UN Human Rights Commissioner Zeid Raad al-Hussein warned of “new and extremely disturbing patterns of violations” which had been revealed in the last week or so and which had evidently been triggered by the attacks made on 11 December by armed opposition forces against three military camps in Bujumbura and Mujejuru in order to seize weapons and free prisoners. The UN said it was analyzing satellite images to investigate witness reports of at least nine mass graves in and around the capital Bujumbura, including one in a military camp, containing more than 100 bodies in total, all of them reportedly killed on the day of the attacks.

It reported that it had documented more than 3,000 arrests and noted that while many had been released, an unknown number had ‘disappeared.’ On 22 January 2016, it was reported that a total of 728 people had died in different ways, forty-one in demonstrations, armed clashes resulting in 333 dead and 354 victims of state violence against civilians. Also, at least 13 cases of sexual violence, in which security forces allegedly entered the houses of victims, separated the women and then raped or gang raped them, had been documented. One of the sexually abused women testified that her abuser told her she was paying the price for being a Tutsi. Another witness said Tutsis were being systematically killed, while Hutus were being spared.

Ten years ago, tension between majority Hutus and minority Tutsis led to a civil war in Burundi in which 300,000 people died. It ended in 2005. The UN human rights chief warned of renewed violence between the two ethnic groups. “All the alarm signals, including the increasing ethnic dimension of the crisis, are flashing red”, he said. We ended our last piece on Burundi with the warning that the outlook for Burundi in 2016 was bleak. It has proved to be so in the first six months at least.

Meetings between the government and opposition leaders in Uganda at the end of December proved fruitless in terms of bringing an end to the deepening crisis and growing conflict. Proposals for a 5,000 strong African peace-keeping force were rejected by President Nkurunziza, who said it would be regarded as an invasion force, and encouraged ‘each Burundian’ to ‘stand up and fight’, if such a force were to try to enter the country.

In mid-January 2016, a leaked memo from Herve Ladsous, the UN peacekeeping chief, to the UN Security Council warned that a peace-keeping force from outside would be unable to quell large-scale violence and urged Council members to travel to Bujumbura for talks. The document outlines three possible scenarios: a continuation of the current level of violence, an escalation and finally, all-out war with fighting along ethnic lines. It stated categorically that “United Nations peacekeeping is limited in its ability to address significant violence against civilians, even violence amounting to genocide, where it lacks a political framework or the strategic consent of the host-nation and/or the main parties in the conflict.” But human rights activists recently told US Ambassador Samantha Power they would welcome the intervention of a robust international police force.

At the beginning of February 2016, African Union heads of state were to vote on whether a peace-keeping force should be sent to Burundi, despite the position adopted by President Nkurunziza who remained totally opposed to such an intervention. They decided not to do so. The UN Security Council has proposed sending in several hundred peace keepers; but it has done nothing, so far, although there are 19,000 UN troops across the border in the DRC, which could be deployed.

The EU announced in March that it would no longer give money directly to the Burundian government because it refused to participate in peace talks. It is also looking for a way to pay the 6,000 Burundian troops fighting in Somalia directly instead of through the government. Not all aid will be cut; some will be re-directed through the UN. But the share of the budget accounted for by aid is likely to fall from half in 2015 to less than a third in 2016. The repercussions of this are already clear: the government has re-directed spending from health and education and other social programmes to pay the army, leaving the UN and charities to look after children and the sick.

Relations between Burundi and its neighbour Rwanda have deteriorated over the last few months as the government of President Paul Kagame stands accused of generally supporting the rebels or opposition in Burundi and specifically of giving Burundian refugees military training in order to be better able to fight against the regime of President Nkurunziza. On 11 February 2016, the Telegraph online reported that “the United States on Wednesday accused Rwanda of trying to destabilise troubled Burundi by recruiting refugees for armed attacks on the government. The American concerns were raised in the Senate Foreign Relations Committee by two senior diplomats, who cited reports from colleagues in the field that point to Rwandan involvement in the Burundi crisis.” In March, the Burundian ruling CNDD-FDD party issued a statement that went even further and accused President Paul Kagame of Rwanda of seeking to export genocide.

On 27 March 2016, the Telegraph online reported that “in a statement released on Sunday, the head of the CNDD-FDD party said Mr Kagame had previously ‘experimented’ with genocide, referring to the 1994 Rwandan genocide in which about 800,000 people were killed, mostly ethnic Tutsis.” “The genocide laboratory is in Rwanda because President Kagame, having experimented there, (wants) to export it to Burundi (to) play a minor imperialist,” wrote Pascal Nyabenda, party president. Nyabenda also claimed that some European governments supply arms and funds to the Rwandan leader, who he said was responsible for “recruiting and training young Burundians in refugee camps in Rwanda, so that they can return home to commit acts of genocide.” He went on to criticise the Catholic Church which recently called for a dialogue between Kigali and Bujumbura to help de-escalate the growing crisis.  

Nyabenda also condemned foreign journalists for taking up the cause of ‘terrorists’, the term used by the ruling party to refer to opponents of the government, both armed and peaceful.

The CNDD-FDD party was formed from the main Hutu rebel group that fought against the formerly Tutsi minority-dominated army during the Burundian civil war. It initially had close ties to President Kagame’s Rwandan Patriotic Front party but relations have soured in recent years. Concerns have been raised that more radical elements in Burundi’s ruling party are gaining influence and that this augurs badly for the future, raising the real possibility of a transformation of the conflict from one between government and opposition into one along ethnic lines.

Potential for ethnic conflict

“The Hutu extremist faction of the CNDD-FDD was marginalised until the start of this crisis … it is clear that they are now in control of the country,” a concerned diplomat told AFP on condition of anonymity. The diplomat noted that Nyabenda, as well as being ruling party head, is also president of the national assembly and the number two figure in the Burundian state. “It is feared that there would be dire consequences if the crisis worsened or if there was a serious incident like the death of a senior party official,” he said. The Economist commented, on 23 April 2916, that “ominously, there is growing evidence that the government crackdown is seeing people being targeted for their ethnicity as well as just for their political affiliation. Certainly, plenty of Hutu men have been arrested; but the neighbourhoods of Bujumbura targeted most heavily by the security forces are disproportionately Tutsi.”

Tutsi are also being increasingly side-lined in key government institutions and, it seems, purged in the army. On 15 April, the government announced that 700 soldiers – almost all of whom served in the army when it was an entirely Tutsi institution – were to be forced to retire.  If the army, which has in recent years been of mixed ethnicity, becomes a predominantly Hutu force, then there are indications that it will be targeted by opposition militants. An example of this can be seen in the attack, on 25 April, on the security adviser to Burundi’s Vice President, General Athanase Kararuza, while dropping off his daughter at school. He was killed together with his wife; the daughter was injured. Other members of the government and those close to the government have also been assassinated in recent months. Shortly after the attack on General Kararuza, the International Criminal Court announced that it was starting a preliminary investigation into the violence in Burundi.

In the meanwhile, the government security forces and youth militia continue to target those suspected of supporting the opposition; hundreds, possibly thousands of people, mainly young men and mostly Tutsis have ‘disappeared’ or become internally displaced persons (IDPs) or have left the country (an estimated 250,000). Roadblocks and security patrols have been established in most parts of Bujumbura, particularly in those neighbourhoods considered ‘hotbeds’ of opposition, and in other towns, and people find it increasingly hard to move around for fear of being harassed and arrested if caught in the wrong place. This is having a negative effect on the commercial life of the cities and on households. The black market has blossomed and in some neighbourhoods of Bujumbura, the price of rice has trebled. This is also creating problems in the rural areas, where the sale of farm produce is increasingly difficult; and so the economy is in decline and people suffer accordingly.

The Economist on 23 April stated, perhaps over-dramatically, that “the economy is collapsing”, but certainly GDP contracted by 7 per cent in 2015, according to the IMF, and looks set to continue this decline still further in 2016. The conflict now threatens to become a major humanitarian crisis and even if the Economist is right to suggest that “it is far from clear that genocide is looming”, the prospects for Burundi and its people remain bleak.   

Burkina Faso

2014

In Burkina Faso, by comparison, things look better. As we discussed in the first of this series, attempts, made in the latter part of 2014, to change the constitution to enable President Blaise Compaoré to extend his 27 years in office were met by a wave of demonstrations. On 30 October 2014, thousands marched on the parliament in Ouagadougou, stormed it and set it on fire. Twitter @Burkina24 showed a photo with a caption that read: “the protesters sat in the seats of parliament, shouting: ‘the National Assembly is for the people.’” Government buildings were also targets, as was the HQ of the ruling Congress for Democracy and Progress Party (CDP).

One of the main features of the protests was the involvement of Balai Citoyen (Citizen’s Broom) – a movement ‘to sweep away corruption and clean up public life’. Founded in 2013 by rapper Serge ‘Smockey’ Bambara, they derive much of their inspiration from the former president, Thomas Sankara. The reggae artist Sams’k Le Jah told Alexandra Reza that “the truths of Thomas Sankara are flourishing again” and informed her that ‘Smockey’ regarded Sankara as representing “all the qualities we ask for… courage, application, honesty, integrity, curiosity.”

Compaoré dissolved his government at noon on 30 October 2014 and declared a state of emergency before fleeing to Ivory Coast. Balai Citoyen considered the overthrow of Compaoré “a victory for popular sovereignty”, and spoke of “remaining mobilised whatever happened next.” What happened next was that, on 1 November 2014, Lieutenant-Colonel Isaac Zida declared himself head of state. Initially, it seemed the army would determine the country’s future, but after domestic negotiations and threats from the African Union, a transitional civilian president, Michel Kafando was appointed and Zida was made prime minister. As Alexandra Reza observed, at the end of 2014, “Kafando’s appointment appears to have seen off the army for the moment.” A National Transitional Council (NTC) was established and it seemed likely that further extensions to the presidential term of office would be outlawed and preparations for elections in October 2015 would move ahead.

2015

In April 2015, however, the electoral code was reformed to prevent those who supported the scrapping of presidential term limits from contesting elections. In protest, the former ruling CDP and its allies announced the suspension of their participation in the NTC.  On 13 July, the ECOWAS Court of Justice ruled against the reform, as “a violation of fundamental human rights.” Three days later, President Kafando appeared to accept this. The same day, Compaoré was charged with ‘high treason’ for his bid to change the constitution and run for a third term; government officials who had approved his bid were also indicted. Compaoré supporters appealed to the Constitutional Council to annul the charges; but on 10 August, that body ruled that it lacked the authority to decide. Two weeks later, however, the Council ruled that the exclusionary law remained in effect; accordingly, it barred 42 prospective candidates who had supported changing the constitution from standing as parliamentary candidates.

The CDP vowed civil disobedience and an electoral boycott. On 29 August 2015, the Council announced that only 16 of the 22 presidential candidates could run: two leading Compaoré supporters were excluded, but two others cleared to stand. Three candidates then argued that those who had served in the Compaoré government should also be excluded; and on 10 September 2015 two more were struck from the list. Of the remainder, two had served under Compaoré, but later joined the opposition. A week later, on 17 September 2015, General Gilbert Diendéré seized power with the help of the Presidential Security Regiment (RSP) – a 1,300-strong elite unit loyal to Compaoré – and declared himself head of a National Council for Democracy. Kafando and Zida were placed under house arrest. Protests erupted; some 10 people were killed and over 100 injured in the course of the coup and its aftermath.

There was also an international outcry. On 20 September, ECOWAS mediators announced that “Diendéré would step down in exchange for the participation of Compaoré in the October elections.” But Diendéré was not present at this ‘agreement’. He declared he would remain in power until after the elections, and pro-coup elements stormed the hotel where the talks were being held: “members of Balai Citoyen involved in the mediation process were among those attacked by masked Presidential Guard soldiers who burst into the Leico Hotel earlier in the day on September 20, as they waved assault rifles, pistols and shotguns.” In response, the army prepared to march on Ouagadougou, while opposition cadres erected barricades around the capital; ‘Smockey’, the leader of Balai Citoyen, wrote on his Facebook page: “Our country calls us comrades! We must paralyze Ouagadougou by any means.”

The next day, the BBC World Service reported that “the coup leader in Burkina Faso has said he is ready to hand over power to transitional civilian authorities as the army is marching on the capital.” Diendéré was reported to have admitted the coup was a mistake: “we knew the people were not in favour of it. That is why we have given up.” On 23 September, Kafando and Zida were both re-installed. A delay of ‘several weeks’ in the holding of the elections was announced; but on 29 November 2015, general elections were duly held. These were the first national elections since the 2014 ‘uprising’ and the departure of President Blaise Compaoré.

The party of former President Compaoré, the Congress for Democracy and Progress, was banned from running a presidential candidate but was still able to participate in the parliamentary election. The presidential election was won by Roch Marc Christian Kaboré of the People’s Movement for Progress (MPP), who received 53 per cent of the vote in the first round, negating the need for a second round. Results for the parliamentary election, were announced on 15 December 2015. Kaboré was sworn in as President on 29 December 2015, and the national assembly elected Salif Diallo, a leading member of the MPP, as President of the National Assembly on 30 December.

The head of the electoral commission, Barthelemy Kere, said that “this election went off in calm and serenity, which shows the maturity of the people of Burkina Faso.” Zéphirin Diabré, the runner-up in the vote, came to President-elect Roch Marc Christian Kaboré’s campaign headquarters as his supporters celebrated his win to congratulate him, Al Jazeera reported. Foreign governments also extended congratulations to Kaboré. At the end of the year, Burkina Faso had a democratically elected president, national assembly and government.

2016

On 19 February 2016, The Guardian online carried an article by Neven Mimica of the EU, which praised Burkina Faso – its people and its government – for its ‘remarkable transition process.’  The peaceful elections that took place in December were described as ‘a victory for Burkina Faso’ and as ‘good news for the region and the continent.’ The maturity and resilience of the country’s civil society, which played a pivotal role, is cited as an example for many. The EU has now committed around €623m  – £481m – for the coming years to support governance, access to healthcare, water and sanitation, resilience and food security; and it is proposed to accelerate disbursements and commit €400m by the end of 2016.

As regards security – in the light of the attacks by Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) that took place in January in Ouagadougou and killed 28 people and injured dozens more – the EU announced that it was preparing “a new package of actions from the new EU trust fund which will be announced by mid-April” in order to “reinforce the presence of the state in areas that are fragile and could quickly become fertile ground for recruitment by terrorists” and also to “strengthen the resilience and basic services of local communities who have been particularly affected by the socio-economic and security challenges, in the spirit of the fund to address root causes of instability and migration in Africa.”

 

Part Two

A Comparative Analysis: Central Africa

As we remarked at the end of the last piece in this series: “these three cases reveal three very different processes – in the way in which attempts by African presidents have sought in recent years to extend their period in office and thus their power, and in the way popular protest at this has emerged and evolved – and three very different outcomes. It would be premature, I suggest, to try to draw too many conclusions from these three cases, although two things are clear: first, that there is a general tendency for presidents and prime ministers in African countries, whether elected or not in the first place, to attempt to over-ride or change their country’s constitution, if necessary, to enable them to extend their period in office and so in power; and second, that there will be popular protest, in a variety of forms, by various sections of the population in opposition to these efforts to move from democracy to effective dictatorship.”

We drew attention at the end of the second part of the project, to the large number of African countries whose rulers have been in office for more than ten years, many of them with questionable legitimacy. The individuals concerned include:

Paul Biya of Cameroon, who is 83 and has been in office, first as Prime Minster from 1975 to 1982, and then as President since 1982); Mohamed Abdel Aziz of the Saharan Arab Democratic Republic (SADR), who assumed office as President in 1976; Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo of Equatorial Guinea, who assumed office in 1979 as Chairman first of the Revolutionary Military Council and then of the Supreme Military Council, before becoming president in 1982; José Eduardo dos Santos of Angola, who was Acting President and then President from 1979 onwards; Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe, who is 92 and has been in office since 1987; Yoweri Museveni of Uganda, who became President in 1986 after he took power in a coup in 1985; Omar al Bashir of Sudan, who was President of the Revolutionary Command Council for National Salvation from 1989 to 1993, and then President of Sudan from 1993;

Idriss Déby of Chad, who was first President of the Patriotic Salvation Movement in 1990, and then President of the Council of State from 1990 to 1991, and finally President of Chad from 1991 to the present time; Isaias Afwerki of Eritrea, who was President from 1991 onwards; Yahya Jammeh of the Gambia, who was first Chairman of the Armed Forces Provisional Ruling Council from 1994 to 1996, and then President of the Gambia from 1996; Denis Sassou Nguesso of Congo Brazzaville, who has been President since 1997; Abdel Aziz Bouteflika of Algeria, who has been President since 1999; Paul Kagame of Rwanda, who was first Acting President and then President from 2000 onwards; and Joseph Kabila of the DRC, who was President from 2001, elected from 2006 onwards.

We did not include in this list a number of other African rulers of shorter duration but who have attempted to extend their period of office beyond what is permitted by the constitution of the country concerned. These include, in recent years: President Nkurunziza of Burundi, who (as we have seen above) recently attempted to extend his period of office beyond the two terms allowed by the constitution of Burundi, with the consequences we have described; and President Blaise Compaoré of Burkina Faso, who also tried to extend his period in office, with the consequences described above and in previous pieces in this series.

Other rulers of Central African countries who have attempted recently to extend their periods of office, include President Denis Sassou Nguesso of the Republic of Congo (Brazzaville), who received the go-ahead, from a political forum on the future of the country’s institutions held in July 2015, to run for president in elections to be held in 2016, and President Paul Kagame of Rwanda, who, in the same month as Sassou Nguesso was able to gain the support of virtually all of the members of the Rwandan parliament for a further term in office.

Republic of Congo (Brazzaville)

This decision by an unelected body – a national forum – paved the way for a referendum on a new constitution allowing Sassou Nguesso, who has led the country for a total of 30 years, to stand for re-election in 2016. Opposition leaders reacted angrily to the forum’s conclusions, seeing in them a ploy by Sassou Nguesso to extend his rule. “What has happened is… a constitutional coup decided by President Sassou Nguesso,” commented Clement Mierassa of the Republican Front for the Respect of Constitutional Order and Democratic Change (FROCAD), an opposition coalition. “We have a responsibility to work through peaceful and democratic means to stop this coup,” he added. Under the constitution, presidential mandates were limited to two terms and only candidates under 70 can run for the top office.

Denis Sassou Nguesso is one of Africa’s five longest-serving leaders, having first come to power three decades ago, and he is now 73 years old. He was part of the 1968 military coup that brought Marien Ngouabi to power, and in 1970, he was made Director of Security and a minister in the new presidential council. When Ngouabi was assassinated in March 1977, Nguesso played a key role in maintaining control, briefly heading the Military Committee of the Party (CMP, Comité Militaire du Parti) that controlled the state before the succession of Colonel Joachim Yhombi-Opango.  He was rewarded with a promotion to colonel and the post of vice-president of the CMP. He remained there until 5 February 1979, when Yhombi-Opango was forced from power in a technical coup accused of corruption and political deviancy.

On 8 February 1979, the CMP chose Nguesso as the new President, and at the Third Extraordinary Congress of the PCT his position was unanimously approved on 27 March 1979. He was Chairman of the Organization of African Unity from 1986 to 1987. In late 1987 he faced down a serious military revolt in the north of the country with French aid. At the PCT’s Fourth Ordinary Congress on 26–31 July 1989, Sassou Nguesso was re-elected as President of the PCT Central Committee and President of the Republic. With the collapse of state socialism in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union, and with the support of the French, he began to prepare the process of opening up the economy and the political regime. In December 1989 he announced the end of government control of the economy and declared a partial amnesty for political prisoners. The following year he attempted to improve the failing economic situation and reduce the outrageous levels of corruption. From September 1990, political parties other than the PCT were allowed and Sassou Nguesso undertook a symbolic state visit to the United States of America, laying the grounds for a new series of conditional IMF loans later that year.

In February 1991, he approved a national conference to discuss the future of Congolese politics. The conference, which concluded in June 1991, chose André Milongo as Prime Minister during the transitional period leading to scheduled elections in 1992. Milongo was given executive powers, leaving Sassou Nguesso as effectively a figurehead president. His power was so limited by the Conference that he was barred from travelling outside of Congo without the transitional government’s approval. He was also subjected to serious criticism and allegations, including a claim that he was involved in Ngouabi’s 1977 assassination. He remained as head of state until the introduction of multi-party politics, which culminated in elections that he lost in the first round in 1992 and that eventually resulted in the election of Pascal Lissouba as president.

Lissouba was faced with accusations of voting irregularities to which he responded with increasing repression and during 1993 there were constant clashes between his supporters and those of the other main presidential contender, Bernard Kolelas, which resulted in almost 1,500 deaths. In 1994, Sassou Nguesso prudently left the country for Paris. He did not return to Congo until January 1997, intending to contest the presidential election scheduled for July. He then devoted himself to building up political and para-military support. In June 1997, fighting broke out between Sassou Nguesso’s militia, the Cobras, and government forces, which led to a more sustained conflict in which Sassou Nguesso was aided by Angolan troops. By October, Sassou Nguesso was in control of the country, and he was sworn in as President on 25 October.

He declared that he was willing to allow a return to democracy and began a three-year transition process in 1998. But renewed fighting with opposition groups led to the collapse of the process. With the government forces in ascendancy and following peace agreements in 1999, elections were re-scheduled for 2002, although not all rebel groups signed the accords. On 10 March 2002, Sassou Nguesso won the presidency with almost 90 per cent of the vote; his two main rivals Lissouba and Kolelas were prevented from competing. He was sworn in on 14 August 2002. He was re-elected in July 2009, despite an opposition boycott, with nearly 80 per cent of the vote, and was sworn in on 14 August 2009. He said at the time that his re-election meant continued peace, stability and security.

In August 2010, as Congo-Brazzaville prepared to celebrate the 50th anniversary of its independence from France, Sassou Nguesso noted that the country had far to go in fully realizing the dream of independence: “Our country will not be totally independent until our people are free of the yoke of poverty.” He appeared to see himself as the architect of that transformation. On 27 March 2015, he announced that his government would hold a referendum to change the 2002 constitution, which would allow him to run for a third consecutive term in office.

The opposition called for a ‘civil disobedience’ protest after voters – 92 per cent -overwhelmingly approved changes to the constitution in October 2015 that allowed the President to extend his three-decade rule. (The referendum reduced the presidential mandate from seven to five years and abolished the death penalty, among other changes).  “We will maintain civil disobedience until the withdrawal of the planned constitution, which is a masquerade,” declared the Republican Front for the Respect of Constitutional Order and Democracy (FROCAD) opposition coalition spokesman Guy-Romain Kinfoussia. Al Jazeera’s Haru Mutasa, reporting from the capital Brazzaville, commented that:

the opposition is not happy. They say the vote is rigged. They say there is no way the voter turnout could have been that high. The opposition are threatening to go on the streets to protest, but here is a challenge.  A lot of the opposition leaders are under house arrest … also a lot of people are scared. Last week, they took to the streets to protest, but the police opened fire and shot some of them.

The Economist  on 12 December 2015 reported that “in October…troops fired on protestors who objected to Denis Sassou Nguesso’s plan to extend his three-decade rule – the protestors’ slogan was ‘Soussoufit, a play on the French for ‘That’s enough’. For whatever reason, there was, in fact, very little public response to the call by FROCAD, at the time, or indeed, over subsequent months, and Denis Sassou Nguesso was re-elected in March 2016, with a majority in the first round, for another seven year term, further extending his 32-year period of rule.” Al Jazeera reported, however, that the final results were released amid tight security and a communications blackout to prevent opposition candidates from publishing their own results. The government extended an order to shut down telephone, internet and SMS services for 48 hours during the voting for ‘reasons of security’ and to prevent unrest and a government source said that they would remain suspended until after the official results were announced. Opposition leaders said that they would not accept another win for the incumbent, but there was very little sign of public unrest once the results were announced, despite the fact that it was reported that ‘tensions were running high.’

Other predictions of ‘domestic instability’, such as those made by the IMF in a report released in July 2015, have not materialised, despite the fact that the Republic of Congo suffers from high rates of poverty and inequality, large infrastructure gaps and important development challenges, according to the IMF. Unemployment reached 34 per cent in 2013, the last data available, and stood at 60 per cent for 15 to 24-year-olds. As in so many other similar Central African states, poverty and inequality alone are not sufficient a reason for popular protest and unrest, particularly in cases where the opposition to what might be termed ‘an authoritarian democracy’ is generally seen to be led by personal political opponents of the head of state rather than to represent a widespread dissatisfaction with the regime. On the other hand, the ‘dampening effect’ of systematic repression on public unrest cannot be over-estimated.   

Rwanda

In the same month that Sassou Nguessou was enabled to stand for re-election as president in the Republic of Congo (Brazzaville), Rwandan law-makers voted almost unanimously to hold a referendum on proposed changes to the constitution that would allow President Paul Kagame to extend his 15 years in power. Rwandan officials have strongly denied that it is Kagame who is angling for a third term, insisting that the president—hailed by his supporters as a guarantor of post-genocide security and stability, as well as a champion of economic development—enjoys popular support for him to stay. “At least 3.7 million Rwandans petitioned the legislature to amend the charter” according to the Speaker of Parliament, Donatille Mukabalisa.

Rwanda’s Green Party, the country’s tiny but main opposition, has vowed to challenge this in court, but said it was being hampered by the reluctance of lawyers to take up its challenge to moves which would allow President Paul Kagame to stand for a third term.  “Five lawyers have refused to take the case. One said he was threatened, another said God was against it, others said they were afraid or did not want to go to court against millions of Rwandans,” according to Green Party President, Frank Habineza. The Rwandan constitution, which was adopted in 2003, limits the number of presidential terms to two, and therefore bars Kagame—who was elected first in 2003 and again in 2010—to stand for a third term in 2017.

But officials predicted that parliament would soon debate a change to the constitution in response to what Kagame’s aides have described as ‘popular demand’ for the former rebel. Kagame, now 57, has been at the helm in Rwanda since 1994, when an offensive by his ethnic Tutsi rebel force, the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), put an end to what was internationally recognised as ‘a genocide by Hutu extremists’ in which an estimated 800,000 people were massacred, the vast majority of them Tutsis. He first served as defence minister and vice president, and then took the presidency by winning 95 percent of the vote. He was re-elected with a similarly resounding mandate.

President Kagame had himself declared that Rwanda’s constitution should not be changed to modify how long a president can serve. “I belong to the group that doesn’t support change of the constitution,” Kagame announced in April 2015, “but in a democratic society, debates are allowed and they are healthy.” “I’m open to going or not going depending on the interest and future of this country,” he said. As Rwanda began commemorations for the 21st anniversary of the genocide, that future was a key consideration. In fact, however, seeking to make the decision on his period in office a broader one, Kagame set up a committee of his ruling Rwanda Patriotic Front (RPF) nearly three years ago to consult and recommend a course of action. Though the report of the committee has not been made public, sources familiar with its content say that it recommended that the constitution be amended.

Foreign investors and international markets are also seen as favouring Kagame’s continuation, viewing his presence as reassuring, as he is likely to continue his hardline stance against corruption, which had made Rwanda one of the least corrupt nations in Africa according to Transparency International. He has also overseen reforms that have made Rwanda a regional front runner in the World Bank’s “Ease of Doing Business” Index.

For a president who got 93 per cent of the vote in the August 2010 elections, in all probability if the matter was left to the people to choose, and given that politics in Rwanda is not as contentious as in some other Central African states, the majority would probably vote for a Kagame stay. Even though critics, arguably rightly, characterise him as a despot who brooks no dissent, having introduced the most universal health care insurance system in Africa and notched up the sharpest drop in infant mortality ever recorded in human history, a strong case can be made that he has a concrete record on which an appreciative people would vote to keep him in office.

He also co-chairs the ITU’s Broadband Commission, and has the reputation of being a wired president; he is a regular at the World Economic Forum in Davos, and hangs out with the famous and rich of the world, including former president Bill Clinton and Microsoft chairman Bill Gates; and he is on good terms with former president George Bush. As one commentator remarked, “he probably has one of the longest address book of Fortune 500 CEOs of any other leader on the continent.” His international support remains strong. 

Kagame is a forceful man who does not suffer fools gladly; a teetotaler, workaholic, and former guerrilla leader, the need for his strong personal control over the political economy of Rwanda is one reason his supporters give for encouraging him to rule beyond 2017. However, if he had invested enough in building successors, he could have laid a more reliable foundation for Rwanda’s future stability and success, and Rwanda would not require such an authoritarian regime. Rwanda’s institutional depth remains largely untested, and it is doubtful the country would function the way it does without his presidential presence.

There is no vice president and the prime minister performs the role of the president’s deputy. Since Kagame was elected president in 2000, there have been three prime ministers. Although Bernard Makuza was in office for 10 years, the job of PM in Rwanda has generally been a short tour of duty, not allowing time for the incumbents to develop the skills to take on the presidential mantle, while the role of the parliament has been very much that of cheer-leader to Kagame’s presidential performance.

If his supporters are numerous and vocal; so too are his critics and detractors. So far, however, they have always lost – finding it a hard job to run against his record – and they are angry. They are waiting for their moment, and right now they think it is about to be handed to them if and when a constitutional amendment removes term limits. The headlines and columns might well already have been written. If he runs for re-election, there may be an upsurge in opposition; but whether it will result in popular protest and open dissidence, or will be received by and large with widespread approbation, remains to be seen. Staying on for a further term of office may be seen as evidence of Kagame’s inherent authoritarianism or as a re-assurance of his commitment to political continuity and strong leadership.

Crafting a nation that actually functions from the depths of the genocide graveyard is a big part of ‘Brand Kagame’; the man who did what in 1994 looked like the impossible is a hard target to hit and an even harder act to follow. His demonstrable ability to hold the country together, so far, in the face of deep historical social divisions has been crucial, not only to his reputation but to his ability to command support. In this, he resembles Yoweri Museveni, whose long period of presidential rule in Uganda has also been widely regarded, even if not unanimously, both inside and outside the country, as a generally positive thing for the country, even if it indicates a preference for stability with the taint of authoritarianism over a more democratic regime with the risk of instability.  

A decision on Kagame’s part to run again for the presidency would, however, be a big gamble, because the biggest assets he brings to the Rwanda presidency – being a man of his word, and someone who looks at the presidency as public service not a personal power trip – could be lost and he could easily become toxic. In that case, he would no longer be able to marshal the attributes that his supporters banked on to give him a third course of the presidency. Stepping down might leave him with the moral authority to influence the direction of the country, much as Tanzania’s Julius Nyerere was able to do, and even perhaps stage a comeback should the country be plunged in a future crisis; on the other hand, it might itself engender instability and precipitate precisely the crisis that all in Rwanda fear – an ethnic bloodbath. Ideally, in the year to come, efforts will be made both inside Rwanda and outside to promote and develop the institutional basis for a strong but democratic regime that does not rely so heavily on one man. 

On 12 December 2015, the Economist remarked, of the DRC, that “Congo’s problems are a grander, more dangerous version of what is happening in neighbouring countries” and referred to both Congo Brazzaville and Burundi. It failed, however, to mention Rwanda – or indeed any of the other countries where we believe a broadly similar process is occurring albeit with different trajectories and outcomes. In the next issue of the series, I shall extend still further the examination of African states in which those already long in power have sought to extend their term of office, either successfully or not, either through the ballot box or by other means, and attempt to draw some general conclusions.

David Seddon is a researcher and scholar who has written extensively on social movements, class struggles and political transitions across the developing world.

 

 

 

 

Ghana: The ‘Rising Star’ of Inequality

By David Johnson 

Over the last 20 years Ghana’s sustained GDP growth, reduction in poverty levels and progress in other areas of human development have seen the country classified as a ‘rising star’ of sub-Saharan African political economy – most recently in a report by the Overseas Development Institute published in 2015. The progress is impressive and orthodox analysis reflects this: GDP growth has averaged well over four per cent since 1992, with fluctuations of around nine and 14 per cent in 2008 and 2011 respectively according to the World Bank in 2016; poverty has reduced significantly, with Ghana meeting the Millennium Development Goal (MDG) target of halving extreme poverty by 2015 based on its own national poverty rates; it is one of the only non-OECD countries with a universal health insurance scheme; and net enrollment in primary education has substantially increased. These factors have also combined to create a burgeoning middle class and subsequently a highly visible consumer market, most prominently in the capital Accra. The African Development Bank in 2012 attributed the rising Ghanaian middle class as a causal factor in the increasing consumer market spending that was valued at US $15 billion in 2010, and that they predict to almost double by 2020. This isn’t a Ghanaian phenomenon, with most other sub-Saharan African countries that fit into the ‘Africa Rising’ narrative increasing their consumer markets not only due to economic growth and a booming middle class but growing populations, high urbanisation, increasingly attractive business environments, technological innovation and falling poverty levels.

However, what the emergence of the middle class, impressive growth/spending figures and reductions in poverty, hide is the rampant and discernible inequality that pervades Ghana. Although the country’s progress in poverty reduction has to be acknowledged, income inequality has significantly increased with the Gini coefficient – though flawed, it remains the most standard measure of income inequality – swelling from 0.35 to 0.42 since the Fourth Republic was established in 1992. This is an important factor in Ghana’s ‘rise’ as increasing inequality has the potential to undermine earlier progress, weaken social connections and substantially slowing further poverty reduction efforts. Most employment, for example, is found in the informal economy – 88 per cent according to the Ghana Living Standards Survey – with most workers earning below the GHC 8 (around US $2) a day or GHC 240 a month ($40) minimum wage, still dangerously close to the national poverty level of US $2 a day. There is no reliable unemployment data, with the dominance of the informal economy a contributing factor, so it is likely these figures could be worse. However, the lack of data could also be considered a determined move by governments to combat the anxiety that alarmingly high official unemployment rates would cause.

Regardless of official statistics, the consequences of high unemployment and informal work are most conspicuous in the capital Accra, as well as other metropolitan areas. Outside the offices of trans/multi-national corporation headquarters, businesses and coffee shops adults and young children work as street vendors, offering water, plantain chips and electrical devices etc. on busy streets, diving in between cars. Poverty is highly visible but again, this is not a Ghanaian, nor African phenomenon, but characteristic of many capitalist cities worldwide. Though today it is more prominent and, juxtaposed against  material wealth and conspicuous consumption that also dominates the metropolitan streets, it is a concerning dynamic.

The substantial wealth that has been created by Ghana’s abundant primary resources and economic diversification has not spread across the country, as the reduction in poverty levels would indicate. It has only reached a minority of people, with the youthful population particularly excluded through low wages and high unemployment and under-employment. Ghana’s Trade Union Congress has been similarly dissatisfied with the ruling National Democratic Congress (NDCs) insistence that GDP growth is equal to inclusive national development, when this growth has not contributed to any substantial employment creation. An example from the recent boom illustrates this. So although the productive structure of the economy has changed – in 2015 the service sector (50 per cent) contributed more to GDP than the previously dominate sectors of industry (28 per cent) and agriculture (19 per cent)  – employment growth is highly concentrated in urban areas which has led to further spatial inequality between regions.

With much of the growth that has been seen based on the commodity boom of recent years – with high prices of oil, gold and cocoa contributing most to GDP– the economy is highly susceptible to global shocks. With the bubble now bursting as world commodity prices plummet, current social and economic policies in Ghana are likely to exacerbate the current spatial and distributive inequalities that exist. Before my arrival in January, for example, large militant protests were organised against the recent utility price hikes and taxes, which have increased the cost of electricity by 59 per cent, water by 67 per cent and fuel by 28 per cent. The middle class may have the resources to somewhat buttress themselves from these increased living costs but the impact on the majority of the population – those in the informal economy, rural farmers, service sector workers on the minimum wage, and of course the unemployed – will be most pronounced. As Kofi Asamoah, the Secretary-General of the TUC has put it in 2014, “[the NDC is] pointing to our middle-income status when they know that we have come into middle income with all the characteristics of a lower – income country, paying the lowest wage rates with deteriorating social indicators.”

The reduction in social indicators – income, health, housing, education, employment and crime etc – highlights many of the repercussions of rising inequality as further pressures and conflicts are produced and reproduced within society. Recent research from the US explores these phenomena and suggests that higher degrees of economic insecurity and inequality, combined with increasing conspicuous consumption, can lead to higher rates of crime, including economic fraud and trickery; when wealth and assets are visible, flaunted and seemingly out of reach, those that are excluded may pursue other avenues to increase their own material well-being. Applying this to Accra’s highly visible consumer market and ensuing conspicuous consumption, it would seem this trend has also spread to the Global South. There is some evidence for such speculation. The 2009 Crime Victimisation Survey in Ghana, for example, indicated that a significant 47 per cent of respondents identified themselves as victims of consumer fraud, or cheated when buying something or requesting services in the course of seemingly legitimate business transactions – the highest prevalence in the survey. Interestingly, the latest recorded crime rate in Accra fell in 2014, however new forms of crime were actually found to have increased – predominantly those of consumer and economic fraud. This trend has not dissipated and at the time of writing there are cases of fraud covered in mainstream media outlets on a weekly basis. The most widely known is that of sim-box fraud, where incoming calls to the country from international destinations are channeled through fraudulent boxes at zero cost, bypassing state and service provider infrastructure. This is estimated to have lost the state and service providers US $919,296 and the government is increasing measures to combat and prosecute such crimes. Further research is required but it would seem that different forms of economic fraud are rising along with different forms of inequality in Ghana and that high levels of economic fraud, sub-standard goods and other practices may be linked to highly unequal societies. Unfortunately, the government’s approach to combating fraud is similar to that of addressing inequality, unemployment and poverty, namely deference to private sector interests and the preservation of profits over people.

Ghana’s status as a Middle Income Country is yet another orthodox indicator that distracts from the issues affecting the country. Rising inequality can already be seen to have undermined earlier progress, weakened social indicators and created new norms of ‘getting by’. If current trends continue then the decent employment, inclusive development of the informal sector, and the provision of high quality basic services that are needed (at the very basic level) to combat inequality will continue to be missed. These are all central issues that can be fostered by challenging free-market orthodoxy to improve the equitable distribution of opportunities and wealth. There are, of course, other complex factors that affect rising inequality: patronage networks still pervade the public and private sectors, democratic consolidation is improving but still highly susceptible to manipulation, and corruption still rears its head – both as a cause and symptom of inequality. With the general election scheduled for November 2016, however, there is an opportunity for these issues of inequality to be fundamentally addressed.

David Johnson is studying International Development at the University of Leeds, he is currently doing research on the political economy of democratic consolidation, inequality, NGOs and state development in Africa at the University of Ghana in Accra.

Featured photograph: Guido Sohne

Everything Must Change: South Africa’s Fork in the Road

ROAPE’s Leo Zeilig talks to Trevor Ngwane about political developments in South Africa, the crisis in the ANC, the growth of new struggles on the left, in the universities and workplaces. Ngwane is a long-standing socialist activist, researcher and writer.

Can you please, first of all, introduce yourself and explain something about your own political developments, through the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s?

I was born the same year the ANC was banned in 1960. My parents, who were both medical nurses, left the country but came back two years later. My father was enthused by his brief stay in Dar es Salaam where he had a whiff of the political ferment there, the spirt of African liberation under Nyerere. At that time this Tanzanian city was a hotbed of revolution with most African liberation movements having offices there. I remember this because when he talked about “Dar” my father’s eyes would light up and he would get very excited. My aunt, Victoria Chitepo, who has very recently passed away, was married to Herbert Chitepo, the ZANU chairperson who was assassinated in Zambia in 1975. My family lived a bit in Zimbabwe, then called Rhodesia, and Tanzania, then called Tanganyika. Then we came back to live in South Africa where my father was always being visited by the Special Branch police. I think they tortured him at some point because he used to tell stories about police torture.

I remember the 1973 Durban strikes as I used to visit my aunt in Lamontville, Durban. Everyone was excited and talking about it in the township with workers going around shouting “Usuthu!” which is a Zulu war cry. I was a high school student during the 1976 June 16 student uprising. There was a student strike at our school in Mariannhill, a Roman Catholic boarding school which Steve Biko, the Black Consciousness leader who was killed by apartheid police, attended in 1964. My university days at Fort Hare University  were also marked by “student disturbances” as the struggle against apartheid got into gear in the country and abroad. Bheki Mlangeni, an anti-apartheid lawyer who was assassinated with earphone bombs that exploded in his ears, was a student during my time there.

In the 1980s I got drawn into the struggle when studying and then later teaching at Wits University in Johannesburg. I also became active in the township civics as I was living in Soweto, Central Western Jabavu. In 1986 I spent two weeks in detention after police swooped onto campus arresting and beating up students during the many demonstrations that took place then. Marxist lecturers dominated the humanities and there was a line of division between the nationalists and the socialists although everyone claimed to be a socialist and everyone supported national liberation. I became a Trotskyist round about 1989 joining the Socialist Workers League, which later became the Socialist Group, and I am still a member today. At that time there were a lot of socialist groups in operation despite the ban on Marxism and socialist politics. When I lost my job as a Sociology junior lecturer in 1989 I coordinated the Wits Workers School, a workers’ literacy project on campus, and in 1993 got a job in a COSATU union, the Transport and General Workers’ Union where I was later twice expelled for opposing what I called the politics of class collaboration of the ANC, SACP and COSATU leadership.

In the township we were busy setting up civic structures, street committees and later self-defence units during the political violence of the 1990s. I also worked a bit with the ANC underground and joined the organisation when it got unbanned in 1990. I joined the SACP for six months and found their “heavy duty” Marxism mechanistic; practically they were intent on subordinating the workers struggle to a nationalist not socialist programme. However, we all had to work together on the ground building civics, the ANC, unions, calling meetings, stay-aways, mobilising for an ANC victory, etc. This culminated in my becoming a public representative (ward councillor) for my area in Pimville, Soweto, where I was now living with my family.

A short time after the 1994 settlement there were voices that began to be raised about the failure, limits, that the new ANC government had imposed on any serious programme of reform. Could you explain a little of the settlement and your role in slowly emerging criticism and movements that challenged it?

I was expelled by the ANC in 1999 for opposing the privatisation of municipal services in my capacity as a local councillor. The struggle against privatisation had begun when the ANC government ditched the Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP), a mildly redistributive policy, and adopted the decidedly “neoliberal” Growth, Employment and Redistribution (GEAR) programme in 1996. At the forefront of the struggle was the South African Municipal Workers Union (SAMWU), a COSATU affiliate, whose members’ jobs were directly on the line. Working class communities in the townships and informal settlements – shantytowns – also began to take their fights to the street demanding better services.

The reason for the conflict with the ANC government is that, a few years after its taking over, it was becoming increasingly clear that the “miracle” settlement that saw the “peaceful” transition from apartheid to democracy had been brokered in the form of a deal that protected capital and the capitalist system in exchange for the vote for the majority and other political and social reforms. The ANC leaders, actually from day one of their arrival from exile and jail, were busy whittling down the demands of the people and talking about the unviability of a socialist path. The RDP was a transitional programme from socialist idealism to a pragmatic accommodation to capital. Indeed, it did not last long and the capitalist interest reasserted itself with a vengeance through GEAR with its various attacks on the working class, namely, lay-offs of state employees, sub-contracting, privatisation, etc. The government’s budget prioritised the interests of capital and the commitment to “rolling back the legacy of apartheid” through vigorous “delivery” of services and jobs for all took a backseat. Neoliberal pro-capitalist policies such as the removal of exchange controls and other protectionist measures led to massive capital flight and job losses. The reintegration of the South African economy into capitalist global circuits, after the (relative economic) isolation of the apartheid regime, benefited the capitalist class at the expense of the working class including doing tremendous damage to the developmental prospects of the country bordering on deindustrialisation.

In this guise I became active in the international “anti-globalisation” movement becoming a regular attendee of the World Social Forum and active in the African Social Forum. The decline in the power of this movement saw many movements that emerged at that time implode including the Anti-Privatisation Forum.

In the early 2000s South Africa had active radical groups, community protests, civil society organisations that in different ways were trying to challenge the governments and its commitment to neoliberalism. Can you describe some of these movements you were involved in building and the experience during this time?

As the penny began to drop various communities took to the streets in protest challenging policies that threatened their access to services such as the user-must-pay policy, penalisation and criminalisation of those who could not afford these paid-for-services, installation of pre-paid water meters, reduction of electricity amperage to the poor, etc. In Johannesburg the union SAMWU combined with students fighting against privatisation at Wits University and communities to form a fighting front against the privatisation programme of the Johannesburg City Council. This front later became the Anti-Privatisation Forum in which I was the organiser. In Soweto we formed the Soweto Electricity Crisis Committee fighting against power cut-offs to force residents to pay the suddenly exorbitant bills. This organisation soon took up the struggle against the installation of water meters.

In Durban, the Concerned Citizens Forum was formed and led by Fatima Meer and Ashwin Desai, among others, organising in Chatsworth, a working class “Indian” area, the apartheid geography, against services payment enforcement by the municipality. The Landless Peoples Movement was formed to fight against land evictions in the rural areas, the Anti-Eviction Campaign fought against this in Cape Town. The Treatment Action Campaign fought for the provision of medication for people living with HIV/AIDS in the face of a president of the country, Thabo Mbeki, who flatly denied the very existence of the virus, no doubt trying to shirk responsibility due to fiscal considerations. Meanwhile, the trade unions, the SACP and ANC were blowing hot and cold in the face of the emergence of these grievances, struggles and movements. The ANC-SACP-COSATU Alliance was used to containing struggle and isolating loyalists from contamination by this spirit of struggle.

When Zuma was elected to the head of the ANC and then in elections in 2009, there was some hope that he would speak more readily for the poor. This obviously hasn’t happened. How would you characterise the years of his presidency? Though much has been made of his blunders, he has also been careful to develop a rural support base.

ANC, SACP and COSATU members, including those of the South African National Civic Organisation, a fourth member of the tripartite alliance, suffered as much as everyone else from the anti-working class policies of the government, especially those on the ground. Soon the rumblings could not be contained and the leadership especially of the SACP, which controls COSATU, in unprincipled ways sought to put the blame on Thabo Mbeki’s head in an internal power struggle. A closer look shows that the whole Mbeki-Zuma debacle which saw Zuma win at the Polokwane national conference in 2007 served two political purposes. The first one was the internal power struggle itself, the jostling inside the party for ascendancy. The second one was a deeper process of hegemony consolidation, namely, aligning the party organisation to the party inside the state. In practice the two were closely interrelated but must be separated for analysis.

Mbeki was blamed for the “1996 class project” which was said to be the neoliberal prioritisation of bosses interests over those of the workers. In this way the opportunistic ANC-SACP-COSATU leaders used the internal struggle for power as a lightning rod to channel the real anger of the working class, including organised labour, for the socioeconomic reversals experienced under an ANC government of liberation. Zuma was falsely painted as a people’s leader and champion of the working class. Mbeki was painted as aloof, intellectualist and serving bosses and imperialist interests. Zuma sang his way to winning the presidency of the ANC with his trademark struggle song “Mshini wami” which means “my machine gun.” I was there at the COSATU congress in 2007 when Zuma was presented to the delegates as a born socialist whose mother had been a domestic worker. Mbeki lost the election and later was recalled from being country’s president before his term ended.

The fact that the ANC went straight from jail and exile into the corridors of power created a misalignment between the ANC as government and as movement. The ANC in the party branch and in the street had to be brought into line with the ANC in government. This is why one of the war cries against Mbeki and for Zuma during the power struggle was that Mbeki was not listening to the branches as if there were two ANC’s. During Zuma’s rape trial ANC supporters took to the streets something that had not been seen in South Africa for a long time. Zuma then symbolised the unification of the two ANC’s: as government and as movement. Once this unity was achieved it was possible for the ANC to speak with one voice. Unfortunately that voice is the voice of big capital and not of the working class. Zuma defaulted on all the promises that had been made to the working class on his behalf by the ANC, SACP and COSATU leaders. That is why soon afterwards radicals like Julius Malema , Zwelinzima Vavi and Irvin Jim, respectively the leaders of the ANC Youth League, of COSATU and of NUMSA, found themselves out in the cold. They were under pressure from their constituencies whose expectations had been raised by the Zuma campaign in which they had personally made some bombastic claims. Indeed, the chickens came home to  roost and Julius Malema was expelled from the ANC and went on to form the Economic Freedom Fighters. Jim led NUMSA in its break with the tripartite alliance. And Zwelinzima Vavi was expelled as general secretary of COSATU in 2015 for opposing the subsequent expulsion of NUMSA from COSATU. All three leaders became increasingly and irreconcilably critical of the ANC government’s pro-capitalist policies. This has opened a new era in South African working class politics.

During the 2000s there have been efforts to develop a left alternative, out of a range of different groups. Currently the Democratic Left Front (DLF) is one such effort. How successful have these been? What are the challenges for a radical left?

I am the national secretary of the Democratic Left Front (DLF). This is an organisation that was formed five years ago in an attempt to regroup the left. Vishwas Satgar, an ex-SACP leader who was expelled by the party, was at the forefront of the initiative. At the time there was a feeling that the social movements and community organisations behind the numerous protests in South Africa were not addressing the question of power and a left alternative to bourgeois rule. The DLF was launched with the participation of both left groups and community organisations on an anti-capitalist platform. It has evolved into a pro-socialist stance and is supportive of the call by NUMSA to build a workers’ party. It also participates in the United Front, another structure spearheaded in the course of what is called here the “NUMSA moment.” The UF unites labour, community and student/youth struggles on an anti-capitalist platform. It is starting off somewhat similar to how the DLF started but it has the muscle of NUMSA behind it. The DLF is fully behind NUMSA in its attempt to build a new left pole in South Africa including the plans to launch a new trade union federation and the Movement for Socialism initiative.

The attempt at left regroupment by the DLF has been a difficult one and is currently yielding mixed results. The challenge, in my opinion, has been getting around the demobilisation and demoralisation of the working class and of the left. The vision of a different society has been systematically trampled upon for so long and this has resulted in a loss of hope that a different future is possible and that workers by themselves can lead the struggle towards that future. There can be no socialism without working class leadership. Without knowledge of and belief in the organic capacity of the working class to effect social change, that is, the self-activity for self-emancipation, the struggle begins to lose direction. Militancy without class politics gives an illusion of movement but in reality little change takes place. The DLF was formed in a context of militant struggles in working class communities and in the workplaces but the political turmoil did not seem to have a centre of authority. There was certainly little overt connection between the various struggles taking place. There seemed to be no shared vision.

The DLF was formed upon an anti-capitalist platform in a search for alternatives. It soon became apparent that being anti-capitalist is not enough, we also needed to be pro-socialist. This move created some tensions and dissension inside the organisation because initially there had been an emphasis on pluralism, in other words, accommodating different political traditions and tendencies in the DLF. Some comrades felt that an aspect of this pluralism was being lost by this political-ideological development of the organisation. Another problem has been a fundamental one, namely, to what extent the DLF could regard itself as a front in the light of the absence of mass organisations in its membership. There is only one trade union affiliate of the DLF. Some comrades felt it was more realistic to regard it as a solidarity forum whose work was to support struggles while raising the flag of socialism, of an alternative.

At the moment the DLF continues its work in a radically changed political terrain containing many possibilities and challenges. The DLF worked hard to support the strikes in the platinum mines including during the Lonmin strike that resulted in the Marikana Massacre in 2012. Some of the DLF’s leading members helped form the Marikana Support Campaign which is fighting for justice for the slain miners. A documentary, Miners Shot Down, was put together by a leading member of the DLF, Rehad Desai, and this contributed to raising awareness about what actually happened on that mountain on 16 August 2012 when 34 miners were shot dead by the state police. The DLF formed a strike support committee during the four-month long industry-wide strike in the platinum mines in South Africa in early 2014. The committee organised political and material support to the striking miners including food and clothing collections and a massive feeding operation that involved the churches, community organisations and Gift of the Givers, the non-partisan disaster relief organisation. The message was spread abroad and a solidarity fund was set up and benefited from international support. Most recently, the DLF has supported the student and worker uprisings in the universities that took place in October 2015. The students and workers were demanding the pulling down of Cecil Rhodes’s statue at the University of Cape Town, scrapping of a proposed tuition fee increase and an end to outsourcing of cleaning, security and other services because it adversely affected workers.

The massacre of workers at Marikana in 2012 is regarded as a fork in the road for the ANC, the Alliance and the working class. Can you tell us how you see this moment, what it means, exposes and how this has played out?

The Marikana Massacre was a very painful moment in the struggle for liberation of the workers here. Everyone was stunned when the police opened fire on the miners on strike. No one expected a government of liberation to do that. All illusions in the class character of the South African state, run by the ANC, were dispelled. The ANC government was there to protect capital and profits and was prepared to shed blood doing so. This shook the architecture of class collaboration that housed the South African state to its foundations, namely, the ANC-SACP-COSATU Alliance. The first casualty was the National Union of Mineworkers, then the biggest trade union affiliate of COSATU and biggest supporter and ally of the ANC: all its general secretaries became secretaries general of the ANC political party (Cyril Ramaphosa, Kgalema Motlanthe and Gwede Mantashe). The massacre led to the NUM losing thousands of its members to a new union, the Association of Mineworkers and Construction Union (AMCU). The workers left the NUM because it did not support their strike and because they saw it as “eating with the bosses.”

The Marikana Massacre brought attention to the power of the working class. The workers at Lonmin, where the strike happened, organised themselves and went on strike against the wishes of their union, the NUM, and against a government of national liberation and its laws. They ignored the Labour Relations Act which governs industrial conflict; they did not declare a dispute or apply for a strike certificate, they just struck. They demanded R12, 500 [£600] a month which for many meant a four-fold increase in wages. In other words, their demands were based on their needs and not on what the bosses were prepared to give. They formed a workers’ strike committee to lead the strike which was directly accountable to the strikers’ assembly. And after 34 of their comrades lay dead shot by the police, they continued with their strike for another three weeks until they won substantial increases from the company.

A spectre was born which was to haunt the South African ruling class, this is the “Spirit of Marikana.” The spirit of defiance, of do-or-die, of moving forward against all odds. This is what the workers on that mountain displayed. This is what millions of workers saw. The workers were ready to lose their lives rather than continue being exploited by the mine owners. Certainly they were prepared to lose their jobs in the process. Later a worker who was shot nine times and survived, Mzoxolo Magidiwana, said that they were fighting to make sure that their children did not suffer as they did. A few months later the same workers who joined tens of thousands of other workers from other platinum-mining companies to wage a four-month long strike demanding R12 500. The strike was long and hard but the workers vowed never to call off the strike because doing so would be a betrayal of the spirit of the dead miners on that mountain. The “Spirit of Marikana” strengthened their resolve and they eventually won a significant wage increase.

At about the same time, in 2012, a sector of some of the most oppressed and exploited workers in South Africa, the farmworkers, broke out in struggle demanding a living wage. This struggle took place mostly in the Western Cape’s winelands where wages and working conditions render workers to be no better than modern slaves. The farmworkers also did not follow any procedures, they simply took action. Police brutality and state repression of the strike was the order of the day. A union which did its best to support the workers who, like the miners, struck without their unions, the CSAAWU (the Commercial, Stevedoring, Agricultural and Allied Workers Union), is still facing closure today after being slapped with a million-rand damages claim by the  bosses for its involvement in the strike. Despite the attacks from the state and capital, the farmworkers won a significant wage increase.

The “Spirit of Marikana” drifted around and affected the National Union of Metalworkers of South Africa (NUMSA), now the biggest union in the country with 370 000 members. The so-called “NUMSA moment” was born when the union decided to break out of the ANC-SACP-COSATU Alliance in a special national congress in 2014. Delegates watched the documentary, Miners Shot Down, and listened to some widows of the slain miners speak. Afterwards they broke into song and individually and in groups, many in tears, went to the front with money in their hands donating over R100 000 to the dead miners’ solidarity fund. Later they resolved not to vote for the ANC and to form a worker’s party and fight for workers power and socialism.

Working class communities were also touched by the “Spirit of Marikana.” The housing crisis and the unresolved land question in South Africa saw four settlements being set-up in different parts of the country by way of land invasions and housing occupations. These takeovers were just some among many but what is significant with these four is that they named their settlements “Marikana.” They took over the land with the spirit of do-or-die: “Let the state kill us as they did in Marikana but we are not moving from this piece of ground.” These new Marikanas are in Cato Crest, Durban; Philippi, Cape Town; Mzimhlophe, Soweto and Tlokwe, Potshefstroom.

The student and worker rebellion in the universities in late 2015 have also been infected by the “Spirit of Marikana.” The students took to the street without seeking permission from the authorities as required by the Public Gatherings Act. They marched, blocked roads, boycotted classes, and generally disrupted university operations forcing the authorities to listen to and eventually to accede to some of their demands. Workers, especially cleaners, went on strike in several campuses without acquiring a strike certificate. The student marches to parliament in Cape Town and to the seat of government in Pretoria in October 2015 happened because the students wanted it, not because the authorities agreed to it. They sought permission from no one, the permission came from the strength of their mobilisation. The victories of the workers and students, the workers won an in-principle agreement in most of the universities that outsourcing would end, and the students won their zero percent increase. It was the unity of workers and students and the power of disruption that won the victories.

A recent month-long strike from March this year by municipal workers who collect garbage in the city and clean the streets has also shown aspects of the new mood among workers in the country. These workers, mostly against the wishes of their union, the South African Municipal Workers’ Union (SAMWU), and without following strike procedures, have been on a militant strike that has included trashing the streets, that is, throwing rubbish all over town to press forward their demands. The garbage piled up in Johannesburg until the city relented and an agreement was signed with the workers winning some concessions including a no victimisation clause after the hysteria of the middle classes against the trashing of the city and accusations of strike violence directed at scabs. The weapon of the workers was again disruption of business as usual and forcing the authorities to accede to their demands.

I would say that the “NUMSA moment” has recently disappointed many people who were hoping for a stronger and bolder way forward. There is a feeling that despite the radical left turn taken by the NUMSA leadership, it will take time for them to shake off the baggage of SACP politics and habits including a top-down approach to struggle and weak belief in the organic capacity of the working class to lead its own struggle to socialism. There is also the reality that none of the COSATU unions actually left the union federation after the expulsion of NUMSA and later of Zwelinzima Vavi, the COSATU general secretary, the latter for opposing NUMSA’s expulsion. The nine unions that sympathised with NUMSA have not taken any visible action in support. Hope now lies on NUMSA and Vavi’s plans to launch a new union federation later this year.

The actions on the ground by workers and communities, in my assessment, are the ones that are giving new life to the flagging NUMSA moment. Workers are leading the way showing that to win you need to fight based on your needs not on what the bosses are willing to give. You need to fight with weapons that you choose and that are readily available to all workers and not those chosen by your enemy – you have to fight because you are ready to and not because the enemy has given you permission to do so. You have to disrupt operations and stop the enemy’s business as usual. Solidarity in struggle is the heart of the workers movement. These are lessons that many trade union, political and community leaders can learn from; the struggles mentioned here and which they appear to have forgotten during their long, cosy residence inside the ANC-SACP-COSATU edifice of class collaboration.

Recently, in 2015 there was an extraordinary uprising of students demanding both bread and butter reforms and the removal of symbols of privilege and the racist, settler past of South Africa. Much of the language in this movement has spoken of the need for black empowerment, black consciousness, rather than of class and socialism. How do you see the development of this movement?

The student movement is very important because the youth are the future. However, the only future is a workers future. What is important about the student movement is that it began as an ideological critique of the legacy of colonialism, capitalism, racism and patriarchy in the universities, in particular as symbolised by the statue of Cecil Rhodes at the University of Cape Town. But it soon transposed into a movement against the increase in tuition fees and even against paying for education. From very early on, it united with and took on board the struggles of the workers against outsourcing. This was remarkable and partly a result of many long years of struggle by university workers, especially cleaning and security, against the hardships of outsourcing. The heightened racial consciousness among militant students, most of whom were black, led them to see the workers as black like themselves, indeed as their mothers and fathers. This showed the interrelationship between race, class and gender in the struggle for emancipation. Many cleaning workers are women and the students found this significant. The student movement rescued Black Consciousness and Pan-Africanism from the history books into living systems of thought relevant for day to day struggle.

An important theoretical and ideological theme in the student movement is decolonisation. There is an ideological ferment and militant dynamism in South African universities that centres around this idea. It is a powerful and radical idea that goes beyond surface appearance and the usual terms in which we talk about society. The students are talking about the need to change the very structure of society. Not to change certain parts or aspects, but to change society totally. Race is central to this vision. It is an inspired vision  because ideologically it represents a total negation: the negation of the negation. It is an idea that says no to everything existing. The radical students are saying everything is wrong about this society.  The education system is wrong, it must change. The suffering of cleaning workers is wrong.  White power, white supremacy and white monopoly capital are all wrong.  The racism, sexism, all of it. Black pain: there has been too much suffering, we can’t take it anymore, it must all come to an end.  We cannot continue this way, it must all stop.

Practically it can lead to militant action. We cannot allow so-called normality to prevail. Nothing is normal in this situation and in the way society is run. Let us disrupt everything because it is all wrong. The garbage workers trash the city saying: “let it be all dirty, let the rubbish pile up because when it looks clean it is actually hiding a lot of dirt that exist underneath -the corruption of the municipal officers, the exploitation of the workers, the daily pain and suffering.” Students disrupt lectures and student registration processes on the same grounds: these lectures and these processes exclude the majority from higher education, we must not allow them to continue, they must be disrupted.

This total rejection may lead one to ask: what are you going to do if we change everything? The answer is that we don’t know, all we know is that things cannot continue this way. Everything must change. This approach lays the seeds of a new society. It begins with the condemnation of all that exists in order to clear the ground for the new. From this point of view, the decolonization movement is a revolutionary movement.

The movement has won workers important concessions in their struggle against outsourcing. In principle agreements and commitments have been made by the university authorities which means that there will be struggles ahead to ensure that these are met and in ways that benefit rather than penalize workers. It is the same with the student victory where the freeze in fee increase still means that higher education must be paid for and already university administrators are implementing austerity programmes on the grounds that there is less money available. The strength of the movement will lie in keeping the connection and solidarity alive between student and worker struggles.

The difference between the June 16 1976 student uprising and this one is that the first happened in working class high schools while the 2015 uprising took place in middle class universities. Universities are factories that manufacture and vindicate class privilege and inequalities. To avoid elitism the slogan: “Free education from crèche to university” is the correct one. It is also important for the university struggles to connect with other struggles in all spheres of working class life. The commodification of higher education is not the only commodification taking place in the world. There is commodification of food, water, electricity, housing, healthcare, transport, recreation, culture, etc. The student movement cannot move forward without embracing and being embraced by other working class and popular struggles in society.

The ideological shortcomings of Black Consciousness and decolonization must be faced squarely. The emphasis on race, unless qualified by a rigorous class analysis, can lead to identity essentialism. The idea that black is good and suffers while white is bad and is privileged is a counterproductive oversimplification which unfortunately is rife in the South African movement. For example, the Rhodes Must Fall meetings in the University of Cape Town are racially segregated with white students not allowed in. But the danger can be much bigger. There appears to be a marriage of black separatist nationalist ideas and the more extreme or crude ideas in post-colonial theory. For example, there is talk that Marxism must be rejected because it originates from Europe and Marx was a white man. Some versions of post-colonial theory reject Eurocentrism, modernity and the Enlightenment on the ground of complicity in historical crimes, namely, racism, slavery, colonialism, etc. European theoretical categories are said to adorn the imperialist garments of universalism, that is, claiming universal applications to the whole world, a world that is different and cannot be understood in Eurocentric terms. Vivek Chibber wrote a book in 2013 where he shows the shortcomings of subaltern studies, an important strand within post-colonial theory.  This problem has to be addressed by Marxist scholars in South Africa too because in practice and in the long term it represents a retreat from class analysis and the class struggle. It opens the door to middle class leadership of the struggle and can severely weaken the movement going forward.

On the left, a new organisation, the Economic Freedom Fighters, has emerged and now seems to occupy a prominent role in opposition – speaking powerfully to the anger and injustice of contemporary South Africa. How do you see the role of the EFF and how should the radical left respond?

The Economic Freedom Fighters grabbed the imagination of the youth and sections of the working class because they speak loudly and in a straightforward way about power, wealth and struggle. They talk about how the black working class needs to take power. They talk about the need to take back the wealth, to nationalise the farms, mines, factories and banks. Nationalisation figured prominently in the platform they adopted during the 2014 national election and which won them a million votes. They are a welcome development in South African politics in the manner in which they are rattling the cage to the left of the ANC and SACP. They are also youthful and their political method includes taking to the streets to push forward their agenda. They certainly revived public interest in what goes on in the South African parliament. The overwhelming majority of the ANC in that parliament had turned it into one huge sleepy rubber stamp for neoliberal policies and occasional left posturing. The EFF has also taken its struggle into the universities running candidates in Student Representative Councils (SRC) which so far have been dominated by ANC-aligned student organisations notably the South African Students Congress and the Progressive Youth Alliance who all seem to take their orders from Luthuli House, the ANC headquarters in Johannesburg. The “fighters,” as they call themselves, were in the thick of the student uprising against the fee increase even though they did not necessarily lead it. However, they will likely and deservedly benefit handsomely from this involvement in SRC elections in South Africa’s twenty-three universities. This will be the case all the more so because the “independent” or spontaneous leadership of this movement has tended to adopt an autonomist anti-electoral and anti-party political stance. Those who support the movement will find that they can only vote for the EFF if they vote at all.

The strengths and weaknesses of the EFF can be traced to the revival of decolonisation and post-colonial politics and theories, in a word: nationalism. On the one hand Julius Malema’s cry is that the ANC has failed the people, it has not implemented the Freedom Charter, a document that guided the struggle for decades and which, among other things, called for the nationalisation of the “commanding heights of the economy.” This is a call for the completion of the so-called National Democratic Revolution, a theoretical and programmatic formulation of the SACP. Its essence is the two-stage theory of revolution. I think it is fair to say that historically this approach is Stalinist-inspired. The EFF’s official ideology is Marxism-Leninism-Fanonism. The question is whether, in practice, this will be a combination of the best or the worst of these ideologies. The nationalist inflection of the EFF’s discourse finds fertile ground in the people’s disappointment with national liberation and as such is powerful as a mobilising tool. However, the downside is locking the class struggle again into the nationalist cage, a repeat of the dangers that Kwame Nkrumah , with his concept of “neo-colonialism”, and Frantz Fanon with his “false decolonization”, tried to avoid and failed.

Fanon somewhere quotes Marx on how the social revolution “cannot draw its poetry from the past, but only from the future.” The EFF, the student movement and the working class movement has to find a way forward without going back to nationalism as an ideology of struggle. The struggle against imperialism has to break out of the discourse of colonialism without denying this history and its legacy. It has to relook at some of the theoretical categories associated with this struggle in the course of the 20th century and identify and remove the shibboleths that bogged it down and ensured its defeat or partial victories when so much could have been won. One of these theoretical legacies is that of Stalinism. Careful and systematic theoretical work is still necessary to map out the strongest way forward. And at its heart will be proletarian internationalism rather than bourgeois nationalism.

Left reformism takes the struggle forward but is not the way forward. We saw in Greece how the parliamentary road to socialism, in the form of the road to national economic sovereignty, is bound to lead to a dead-end. Revolutionary rhetoric is not the same as a revolutionary programme. It can be a short-cut that inspires in the short-term but demoralises in the long term. The only way forward for the working class and the revolutionary left is the road of struggle, of revolutionary struggle, of the struggle to replace the capitalist system with the socialist system. Under conditions of global capitalist crisis the system is increasingly unable to yield any concessions. This means we are entering an era of struggle. It will take many different forms in different places. Our job as revolutionary socialists, wherever we are located, in the unions, universities, communities, youth organisations, political parties and social movements, is to orient these struggles towards the revolutionary overturn of the capitalist system and the taking of political and economic power by the working class and its allies.

For more on the issues and politics discussed by Trevor please see ROAPE’s archive that can accessed through roape.net by registering here. Read more on the background of the crisis in South Africa and the emerging alternatives in John Saul’s special issue on roape.net.

The World Bank and Inequality in South Africa

By Dick Forslund

In October 2014 the World Bank presented its “South Africa Economic Update No 6” at the Treasury’s Mid-Term budget workshop. The report concluded: ‘The fiscal system is already achieving a lot of redistribution, and there is little space left in the government’s purse to do more to alleviate poverty and inequality via fiscal policy.’ At the October 2015 workshop, the World Bank researchers reiterated their main finding: inequality in South Africa is not as bad as usually reported.

This has been a popular message among many economists. The report became a part of the ideological foundation of the 2016/17 budget, which fell short of protecting 16 million South Africans from real cuts in their social grants. So called austerity is now a fact for the poorest households.

Patrick Bond has slammed the report in articles and correspondence. The World Bank has only made minor concessions to his critique. In essence they argue that public health and education are largely “transferred” in South Africa from rich to poor, and that we get a truer picture if we measure income inequality after this alleged transfer of “incomes in kind”.

Bond has listed a range of state policies and services that benefit “the rich”. One example is the police, which got R598m extra over three years in the new budget.

Mainstream economics in fact acknowledges that police services are inherently biased towards the wealthy and gives this as one reason for so called progressive taxation: Rich people have more wealth to protect. Consequently, they should pay a larger share of their income for policing than the poor. The Marikana massacre is a terrible example of public policing protecting the interests of the wealthy. Policing in Khayelitsha compared to wealthy areas in Cape Town was debated last year, but such police service inequality is present in the whole country.

However, the World Bank report also has a more fundamental flaw. Let us start again from the beginning.

The World Bank concludes that there is “a lot of redistribution” going on in SA after measuring to what degree public health and education are “transferred” from people with higher incomes to the majority. It is the research program “Commitment to Equity Assessment” (CEA) that has introduced this novelty. CEA brings “the incidence of use” of a selection of state services into the inequality calculations (the ones not too difficult or impossible to quantify the use of among different income groups). CEA treats the choices of use of public services as if they are individual “incomes in kind” that you get or not get. This final analytical step is added to the standard measuring of income inequality after income taxes, subsidies, social grants and indirect taxes like VAT and the fuel levy. The result is summarised with the familiar “Gini coefficient” – the inequality measure usually explained by saying that 0 (zero) would mean perfect equality (everybody has the same income) and 1 “perfect inequality” (one person gets it all).

Every measure answers a question. It can be shown that the Gini measure answers this question (speaking of a large population): How large part of all income has to be taken from those with incomes above the average and given to those with incomes below the average in order for all to have the same income? A Gini of 0.69 means, that 69% of all income would have to be redistributed for everybody to have the same income. For this redistribution to happen, income is first taken away.

Everybody knows that South Africans with higher incomes choose to be less dependent on public health and education than others. After “correcting” for this, the World Bank can report a much lower Gini coefficient for SA than other studies: Inequality now drops from 0.77 in market income (i.e. before the state intervenes) to 0.59. This surprisingly low Gini gave political space to say in the report: ‘the fiscal space to spend more to achieve even greater redistribution is extremely limited.’ A Gini of 0.59 is bad, but not as bad as “0.695”, which the report, similar to other studies, says is income inequality after income taxes, subsidies, social grants and indirect taxes. But, again, the Word Bank could report a lower Gini after “also” taking into account that people with higher incomes pay more taxes, but largely opt out from public health and education, “transferring” these services to others.

Indeed, the researchers say (p.43): ‘Once the monetized value of education and health services is included, the poorest decile receive transfers and services worth some R6,900 (or $945 in 2010/11).’ We should compare this with R200 per year (!) in market income that the researchers have calculated, to which they add the net effect of R1,931 in cash transfers, subsidies and value added tax (VAT). The income of decile one is R2,131 per year. But after an additional “transfer” of public health and education in their analysis, the average “income” of the poorest decile increases by 243% to a “final income” of R7,100 per year, and so the World Bank ‘reformed’ Gini for South Africa plummets.

In social sciences every ideological distortion is based on a theoretical error. There is no transfer of public health and education services from high income earners to others. Everybody can come with a broken leg to a South African public hospital. Even an income millionaire can send her child to a public primary school in Eastern Cape. If fee-free and subsidised parts of public health and education are private “incomes in kind”, they are incomes to all. These services are for the rich too. Nobody is taking these services from them.

Still, we know that about 84% of the population use public health and the remaining 16% private. We know that high income earners as a rule shun public schools. Why is that? The WB researchers make this disclaimer: ‘The analysis does not take into account the quality of services (…). This limitation is particularly pertinent to the analysis of spending on health, education, and free basic services.’

Well, it is the dynamics of this limitation that is “pertinent”. The theoretical error directs the method and the method will deliver the following paradoxical result: If the Finance Minister didn’t budget enough for teachers there will be more class rooms with 50 or more learners. More people will now shun public schools, at all costs. Now they too start to “transfer” public school services to lower income earners. If the situation gets worse in the public sector and more people reject public health and education, the World Bank will report a lower Gini coefficient, i.e. that income inequality has dropped!

If the Finance Minister instead had budgeted for a drastic improvement in public health services, which he didn’t, then the methodological novelty would register an increase in inequality! Why? Well, people with higher incomes would start to use public health, “transfer” less of it and instead add this “income in kind” to their already high monetary incomes.

The cross country comparisons in the report must also become defunct. In countries where people with higher incomes are using public health and education more than in SA, the “reformed” Gini coefficient will be pushed up: Greater popularity of public health and education leads to a more unequal country.

This applies to all countries as far as I can see: The worse reputation public health and education get in a country, the more those who think they can afford it will use a private solution and the Gini drops, as if income distribution has become more equal. To get such a low Gini for South Africa, the World Bank mixes a strict monetary measure of inequality with the middle class/upper class reaction to the state of the public sector (a reaction that comes from culture, perception and actual service performance, one must say).

The Gini coefficient cannot be used in this way. Intuitively and even by common sense, a big quality difference between private and public health and education is a sign of inequality. I don’t know how much this method would adjust the Gini upwards (meaning “more inequality”) in Sweden, Norway, Germany or Denmark, where the public sector health and education are much more used by all income groups.

A hundred years ago, Mr Gini constructed an inequality measure that became widely used. Whatever its draw backs are, he would surely have been surprised to see how the World Bank has embraced an “improvement” of it that turns the world of inequality upside down.

From a table (2.8) in the World Bank report, we can deduce that the strictly redistributive taxation of R207,000 in average market income of the top ten percent income earners was 2.9 percent in 2011. Put otherwise: 9% (according to table 2.8) of the direct and indirect taxes on the average income of the top decile was for strictly redistributive purposes like social grants. The remaining 91 percent was put in the pot that pays for education, health, all other state functions and services, like rubber bullets.

Dick Forslund is senior economist at Alternative Information and Development Centre in South Africa.

Resistance, Crisis and Workers in Zimbabwe

ROAPE’s Leo Zeilig talks to Antonater Tafadzwa Choto about the ongoing economic crisis in Zimbabwe, the impact on ordinary people, and some of the factors that are likely to worsen or mitigate the crisis in forthcoming years. Choto is a well-known labour activist, researcher and currently director of the Zimbabwe Labour Centre.

Can you please give us a few details about the history of your own activism?

I have worked for years as a social justice activist after having participated in a number of workers and social justice struggles from the mid-1990s. Initially I was involved in a feminist group that campaigned against discrimination against women, with women harassed and attacked. Later I became a socialist active in the labour struggles of the 1990s. I am currently the director of the Zimbabwe Labour Centre. The ZLC stands for the justice for working people in the work place and society at large. We also campaign against neo-liberal policies that, we believe, have had a disastrous impact on Zimbabwe. 

Zimbabwe has now been in a prolonged and terrible crisis for more than a decade, can you explain what is going on and what life is like in the country at the moment?

One story seems to represent the general picture, to me. On his birthday interview in February 2016 the President, Robert Mugabe, announced that the country had lost US$15 billion revenue from the mining of diamonds mines in Marange diamond fields in Chiadzwa.  US$15 billion was supposed to be channelled to the treasury to help the ailing economy but was lost through corruption. Mugabe admitted this publically. Mugabe then announced that the government was taking over the mining of diamonds in Marange. Sounds positive, right? Sadly not. While he made this announcement, he said nothing about efforts to recover money that could go a long way to helping the country and the majority of ordinary people in poverty.  Instead of bringing the culprits before the justice system he stated that the government would seek to lure other foreign investors, who will come, no doubt, to loot more money from the diamond fields. 

At the same time his Minister of Finance Patrick Chinamasa and Reserve Bank Governor John Mangudya were delighted to announce that the IMF would grant Zimbabwe a loan, the 1st in 20 years, of $984 million in the 3rd quarter of the year after paying off foreign lenders. This is not good news for Zimbabwe. IMF money will see more austerity and worsening of life for ordinary people in Zimbabwe.  In many ways the current collapse in the economy, with its long political crisis, was triggered by the conditions attached to such loans – known across the continent – as structural adjustment, in the 1990s. There is little different in these new loans. Why does the government not focus on bringing back US$15 billion of stolen assets from the Marange diamond fields? 

The reasons are complex, but essentially the government refuses, for all of its black empowerment bombast, to make any serious efforts at controlling the countries riches for itself. Zimbabwe is endowed with vast mineral wealth with only a minority, approximately 1% enjoying access to enormous wealth, in kick-backs from deals with multinational corporations. At the same time more than 90% of the population struggle to afford to send their children to school, while young girls are often forced into prostitution or early marriages and boys turn to petty stealing or drugs. The gap between the poor and the rich continues to widen. Harare, Zimbabwe’s capital, has always been a city of extremes, but never more so than today. The mansions the rich build for themselves, match the opulence of Constantia in Cape Town, while holidaying all over the world, and sending their children to top universities in Europe and America. Even South African universities, long the preferred destination for the children of the black elite, is no longer deemed adequate.

The ruling party ZANU-PF is incredibly divided, with a recent split and a new party created. The opposition too has split, again and again. Can you explain to us what the significance of these developments is?

Divisions among the elite have been incredibly unpleasant. The cake for the 1% has been shrinking for a number of years because of the global economic crisis, the slow-down in the Chinese economy, and the collapse of the rand in South Africa. Each of these factors have had a negative effect on the ailing country. The political game in Zimbabwe depends on these economies for their pay-outs. The elite both in Zanu-PF and the opposition are now greedily fighting amongst themselves, while dividing ordinary people who are forced to fight for the crumbs.  With Joice Mujuru, the former Vice-President expelled from Zanu-PF in 2014, the purge in the ruling party has not abated. Next in line could see Vice-President Emmerson Mnangagwa, who had previously been seen as a replacement for Robert Mugabe.  

Mujuru was joined by others who had also suffered the purge in Zanu-PF, to form a political party People First (PF) – which is essentially no different from Zanu-PF, though perhaps more intensely committed to neoliberal policies, so pitching itself to the right of Zanu-PF. The Mnangagwa faction dubbed ‘Lacoste’ – for the emblem worn on supporters’ tee-shirts – seems to be losing the succession battle to the G40 (Generation 40). G40 consists mainly of young and energetic Zanu-PF members, who did not fight in the liberation struggle and are pushing for Grace Mugabe, the president’s wife, to succeed her husband even though Grace continuously refutes her presidential ambitions. Jonathan Moyo, Saviour Kasukuwere and Robert Zhuwavo are the leaders of G40 and are currently mobilising for a ‘1 million men match’ in support of Mugabe who is under pressure to step down due to his advanced age in May.

The diverse opposition is suffering from a similar crisis. The Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) is little better than the ruling party, as it is also marred by factionalism, between the current President of the party, Morgan Tsvangirai, and the former party youth leader, Nelson Chamisa, who lost his position as spokes-person at the party’s last congress.  Since the MDC’s formation in 1999 it has seen numerous splits, for example, MDC-N led by Welchman Ncube, [and] the disbanded MDC-99 [led] by Job Sikhala, a former student activist, who returned to the party fold in 2014. [While] Tendai Biti, the former MDC finance minister in the Government of National Unity, became the secretary-general of MDC-Renewal in 2015. In September that year MDC-Renewal launched as a distinct party, the People’s Democratic Party, with Biti elected president of the new party. The MDC is in total disarray. Essentially these parties, recycling politicians and elites, compete to promote neo-liberal policies with similarly anti-worker austerity policies. This is all the more astonishing if you consider the fact that many of these figures, Biti, Sikhala, Chamisa, emerged from a radical socialist politics in the 1990s.

For an example of the neoliberal venality, the MDC-T which is running the city council of Harare has targeted vendors who try to make a living hawking juice cards (telephone recharge cards), fruit and vegetables, [and] cheap imported goods, [and] called for more powers to be given to city police to prosecute the vendors.  Early this year we saw the council demolishing the houses of the poor, yet the council has not build a single house for more than 20 years now. 

Zimbabwe’s trade union movement, its impressive working class activism in the 1990s, helped to found the main opposition party in 1999. Can you tell ROAPE something about the state of workers and trade unions in the country today and how the organised representation of workers has been weakened?

For more than a decade the country has been in crisis, workers and the poor, have paid the price for the crisis created by the government and rich. Figures are hard to come by, but roughly seventy percent of organised workers – in a relatively large and developed working class – has been retrenched since 1998. The working class, in cities and towns, around Zimbabwe has been literally declassed, tens of thousands moving to South Africa, or forced into the informal sector. So the neo-liberal policies adopted by the government from the 1990s has seen thousands of workers losing their jobs through retrenchments.  This has had a dramatic impact, weakening organised labour.  Unions have not only lost their membership through retrenchments, but those workers who have maintained their positions have sought to distance themselves from any radical fightback fearing for their jobs. Unemployment, as we know, is a massive disincentive for strike action. This was made worse by the Nyamange vs  Zuva Petroleum ruling on 17 July 2015 that upheld common law, stating an employer could terminate an employee’s contract by giving three months’ notice.  The ruling immediately saw more than 30,000 workers laid off, by being given three months’ notice.  Remaining workers have either been put on casual contracts or silenced to protect their jobs. The result for the organised, working class has been devastating.

Not only have the unions been weakened by low membership but also through their relationship to companies as they seek to survive. Most of the union’s financial subscriptions have collapsed making it difficult for them to operate and at times receiving their union’s dues from the company late, or depending on contributions from NGOs.  This has created a situation with the union bureaucracy ‘compromising’ with bosses, and being bought off by ’donations’ at the expense of their membership.

In some cases the situation is appalling. Not only are the union leaders being increasingly incorporated, or more crudely simply bought-off, but some seek to compete with chief executives of companies, living similarly luxury lifestyles, driving cars donated to them by the company, and drinking and dining at the same bars and restaurants.  Thus many of them have become buddies with managers, further compromising workers’ rights.  Frequently we see union leaders urging workers to accept short-term contracts and salary cuts or face unemployment. 

This has … also made worse splits in the trade union movement with numerous splinter unions being formed.  The petty, personal differences and disputes among trade union leaders with competing trade union federations, unable to unite. Last year, for example, after the Zuva ruling, which dealt a considerable advantage to company bosses to continue their attacks on the working class, the trade union movement failed to mount any serious or sustained action.

It is important to recall that the trade union movement, under pressure from a powerful rank and file, was at the heart of every serious political challenge to the regime for more than twenty years after independence in 1980. The current situation, viewed historically, is all the more devastating.  

As the economic meltdown has rippled across Zimbabwe, can you explain how this has impacted on women?

As usual the most affected by these interlinking crises are women. Women were the majority of workers in Zimbabwe employed in the retail sector, where many still work.  In the middle of this crisis women have been targeted, with the gains that working women made in the 1980’s and 1990’s being almost entirely eroded.

Most women no longer enjoy maternity leave with many forced to take unpaid leave for a month, compelled to return to work before they have recovered from giving birth, with childcare provision completely absent.  They are then forced to work normal hours, with no provisions for breastfeeding etc.  Wanting to protect their jobs most women feel compelled to accept these circumstances, since any position is preferable to staying at home with no income. 

Sexism, sexual harassment and discrimination, have long been a problem in Zimbabwe. But in recent years, levels of sexual harassment have increased dramatically, but again it is hard to assess exactly the extent of this increase as cases are not reported because of fear of reprisals. We have dealt with a significant increase in cases of sexual harassment at the Zimbabwe Labour Centre.

The threat of job losses casts a long, dark shadow across all aspects of Zimbabwe – but, perhaps, most worryingly on the position of women in society. So it has been made to look fashionable for a woman to have an affair with her boss, showered with gifts and special treatment at work, only to be dumped in favour of another woman. Again this is increasingly common.

As the crisis continues to worsen with firms cutting jobs at companies like the mobile phone giant Econet, the Grain Marketing Board (GMB) etc., the only way out for many young and single mothers is to accept sexual advances from the supervisor and managers. Such scandals that have been exposed show how bosses, for example, at the state National Social Security Authority (NSSA), received loans from the pension scheme for their girlfriends with no action taken to recover the public money.  All this does is to encourage the oppression of women in workplaces around the country.

Can you talk about the state of rank and file action in Zimbabwe? What sort of opposition is emerging in the recent strikes and actions that have taken place?

Despite the attacks we have seen, and the corruption of certain union leaders, workers are beginning to organise themselves independently. Over 300 hundred workers in 2015 from the parastatal, the Grain Marketing Board, spent more than a month sleeping outside their company premises in the middle of the rainy season to demand the payment of salary arrears dating back to 2014. These workers received solidarity from fellow unions and progressive civil society organisations like the International Socialist Organisation, the Zimbabwe Labour Centre, and many individuals in Zimbabwe and elsewhere on the continent. They partially won and only left the companies premises after agreeing to a deal to be paid US$350 per month, until all their salaries arears were repaid. They threatened to return should the employer default. 

Inspired by the example of GMB workers, National Railways of Zimbabwe (NRZ) workers in March this year also occupied the company premises to highlight that they do not have anywhere to live, as they have not been paid for 15 months.  Their strike continues. Nurses from Mutare, a city in the east of Zimbabwe, also staged a sit-in at council offices in February this year, demanding their salary arears be paid. Frequently, such militant and often unorganised action is the only language left for workers. 

Finally, for the radical left, what are the strategies and possibilities for a progressive and socialist politics in Zimbabwe?

As the crisis continues to worsen in Zimbabwe the divisions – you could say the cannibalism – in the ruling elite will deepen as they fight amongst each other for their own survival.  These divisions and factionalism is a struggle over the control of a frail and broken economy, with a divided comprador elite involved in a vicious battle over the country’s puny spoils. The struggle for socialists is to ensure that the working class, women and the poor do not become involved in these battles.  These forces must resist the temptations of political parties, new and old, who are calling for further austerity against the poor.  The MDC, when it was part of the Government of National Unity, from 2009 to elections in 2013, and its current economic policies offer little for Zimbabwe’s poor.  The recent rank and file action we have seen gives an example of how unions can be strengthened, but corrupt union leaders must be replaced by those committed to advancing their members rights.  There is much to be done.

For more on the issues discussed by Choto see the website of the Zimbabwe Labour Centre and articles on Zimbabwe’s political and economic crisis in ROAPE’s archive.

 

Third World Network-Africa on Illegal Deal with Gold Fields

By Third World Network

On 29 March 2016 Gold Fields announced in Johannesburg that it had concluded “development agreements” with the Government of Ghana, reducing corporate tax in respect of its Tarkwa and Damang mines from a rate of 35.0% to 32.5%, and royalty from a flat rate of 5% to a sliding scale starting from 3%. The company estimates that this would save it $26m in tax and royalty payments this year. From Ghana’s perspective we are foregoing $26m of tax and royalty income from the Tarkwa and Damang mines this year.   The two Agreements were hurriedly approved by Parliament on 17 March 2016 without any debate.

At a press conference on 4 April 2016, Third World Network-Africa expressed grave concerns about these massive concessions granted the company and questioned their legality. TWN-Africa made five main points:

  1. The tax and royalty cuts offered to Gold Fields Ghana Limited (GFGL) are illegal;
  2. Government should publish the Development Agreements with Gold Fields;
  3. Government should disclose the enforceable investment commitments made by Gold Fields which justify the Development Agreements;
  4. Parliament should publish the Report of the Mines and Energy Committee which recommended approval of the Development Agreements and explain what circumstances justified rushing the approval through Parliament; and
  5. The roles played by various public institutions, structures and individuals in the development, negotiation and approval of the Development Agreement should be made public.

 

Legality of the Tax and Royalty concessions to Gold Fields Ghana Ltd

According to the Gold Fields announcement, the development agreements will last for 11 years for Tarkwa and 9 years for Damang, with the option to renew for another five years. The reduction of the corporate tax rate from 35.0% to 32.5% took effect from 17 March 2016, the date Parliament approved the agreements. The change in the royalty rate from a flat 5% of revenue to a sliding scale royalty based on the gold price takes effect from 1 January 2017. The applicable sliding scale is set out in the table below:

 

Royalty rate Gold price
3.0% US$0 – 1,300/oz
3.5% US$1,300 – 1,449.99/oz
4.0% US$1,450 – 2,299.99/oz
5.0% US$2,300/oz – unlimited

 

To date, this is the only public disclosure of any detail of the agreements that were rushed through Parliament. Gold Fields’ public disclosure to its shareholders is in stark contrast to the failure of our Government to disclose details of the agreements with Gold Fields. The only official pronouncements have been in response to questions from the media, including those provoked by TWN-Africa’s press conference, and these have not provided any of the details of the Agreements.

What is the legal basis for these concessions?

Under section 49 of the Minerals and Mining Act, 2006 (Act 703) a Development Agreement involves the Government granting concessions or privileges to a mining company in exchange for the investment of more than $500m under a mining lease. Among such concessions is a stability agreement on fiscal issues in conformity with section 48 of Act 703. This is a key part of the concessions companies expect hence Gold Fields prioritising the tax and royalty concessions in its public announcement of Development Agreements.

The cut in corporate tax and royalty rates granted to Gold Fields cannot be justified in terms of Section 48 of the Mineral and Mining Act, as the provision does not give the Government the power to reduce or improve the existing obligations of mining companies. What it does, as appears below, is allow for protection against any future increases or worsening of the obligations of the company. The relevant parts of Section 48 of Act 703 are quoted below:

‘48 (1) The Minister may as a part of a mining lease enter into a stability agreement with the holder of the mining lease, to ensure that the holder of the mining lease will not, for a period not exceeding fifteen years from the date of the agreement.

(a) be adversely affected by a new enactment, order instrument or other action made under a new enactment or changes to an enactment, order, instrument that existed at the time of the stability agreement, or other action taken under these that have the effect or purport to have the effect of imposing obligations upon the holder or applicant of the mining lease, and (b) be adversely affected by subsequent changes to:

(i) the level of and payment of customs or other duties relating to the entry materials, goods, equipment and any other inputs necessary to  the mining operations or project,

(ii) the level of and payment of royalties, taxes, fees and other fiscal imports, and

(iii) laws relating to exchange control, transfer of capital and dividend remittance.’

The everyday meaning of the highlighted words “new” in section 48 (1) (a) and “subsequent” in section 48 (1) (b) makes clear that the purpose of the law is protection against future increases or worsening of a company’s obligations and not cuts or reductions in existing obligations. This is the basis of our claim that the tax cuts and new royalty terms in the Gold Fields Development Agreement are illegal. This central point of our press briefing has not been addressed by spokespersons for the Government or Gold Fields in their various responses to our press briefing.

The Justification for the Development Agreements

Under Section 49 (1) of Act 703, ‘The Minister on the advice of the Commission may enter into a development agreement under a mining lease with a person where the proposed investment by the person will exceed US$ five hundred million.’

In the wake of announcing the Development Agreements, officials of Gold Fields persistently declared that they had made no commitments to the Ghana Government in exchange for the tax and royalty concessions. In one report, a spokesperson for the company, Sven Lunsche, said Gold Fields has not yet decided whether to inject more cash into Damang or suspend operations there. Lunsche said the

Development Agreement ‘is obviously a positive input into our decision making process, though we are considering many other economic, financial and mining variables in the process.’ If Lunsche is telling the truth, then Gold Fields do not qualify for a Development Agreement because in the clear words of the law there must be a proposed investment of more than $500m before a development agreement is granted.

After the TWN-Africa press conference, Dr. Tony Aubynn, Chief Executive of the Minerals Commission and officials of Gold Fields Ghana told the media that the Development Agreements are based on an investment plan.

Senior Vice-President and Head of Gold Fields’ West Africa Region, Alfred Baku, is quoted as saying the firm plans to invest more than $500m.  ‘The amount we are calling is the amount we are going to invest going forward and we think that between the two operations that we have in Ghana, we are going to invest in excess of the 500 million’, he reportedly told Citi FM, Mr. Baku did not indicate the period within which the investment would be made and what precise form it will take.

Dr. Aubynn has asserted that the requirements for a Development Agreement have been met and that Gold Fields, ‘had indicated that they are willing to invest more’ and that Parliament assured itself of this before approving the Agreements. He however gave no details of the clear and enforceable commitments made under investment plan. Neither did he indicate a readiness by the Government to publish the Agreements and the terms of Gold Fields investment plan so as to definitely clear the air.

Dr. Aubynn has also offered two other justifications for the Development Agreements, namely: 1) Gold Fields have been in Ghana for a long time and have already invested over $2bn and 2) the difficulties facing Gold Fields due to the drop in gold prices and the need to help the struggling Damang mine. Whilst being vague on the exact nature and terms of new investments officials of Gold Fields have also been quick to talk up the potential benefits of the tax cuts for responding to the problems of the sector such as saving jobs.

The challenges facing the gold mining sector and its knock on effects on public revenue are real and Gold Fields is not the only affected company. However, past investments, current financial distress due to price drops or a desire to stave off redundancies are not a legal basis for a development agreement under the terms of Act 703.

The negative lessons of the Newmont and AngloGold Stability Agreements

The shortcomings of and experiences with the original (2003) Newmont and the 2004 AngloGold stability agreements contain important lessons for protecting the public interest in contracts for the exploitation of non-renewable mineral resources which we expect to inform new agreements such as the present ones with Gold Fields Ghana Ltd. The 2003 Newmont agreement did not contain any firm commitments by the company in exchange for the extensive and unprecedented concessions by the Government of Ghana. In the AngloGold case the company did not make a firm commitment on the key issue of new investment in the so called Obuasi Deeps to increase gold production. It only committed to carry out feasibility studies. Despite the steady rise of gold prices from when AngloGold took over AGC the promised investments were never made and the mine was shut in 2014.

Ironically rather than respond to the issues raised about the Gold Fields agreement public officials and Gold Fields officers have used the threat of an Obuasi style closure of Gold Fields mines as a threat in defense of the agreements. For example Gold Fields’ Alfred Baku told Citi FM ‘what this development agreement is going to do to Gold Fields and to Ghana is that it is going to guarantee jobs because if we were not to get it and we continued to struggle, what would have happened was that we were going to close the mine as we have got at Obuasi, put it on care and maintenance.’ Actually to avoid a repeat of the Obuasi experience it is important that Gold Fields development agreements contain firm and measurable commitments. The public interest in such a commitment is one of the bases of our demand for a full disclosure of the agreements.

The shortcomings of the Newmont and AngloGold stability agreements were factors in the Mills government’s decision to initiate a mining policy review process and set up a Mining Review Committee to renegotiate the agreements and advise the government on future policy and practice. TWN-Africa strongly supported that decision. We believed it offered an opportunity to establish a set of guiding principles and principled ways of negotiating with mining firms in the public interest. The Newmont Agreement has since been renegotiated by the Mining Review Committee although it is yet to be made public. To what extent has the Government incorporated the lessons from the AngloGold and 2003 Newmont agreements about the need for firm and benchmarked commitments into the Gold Fields agreements?  Did the Mining Review Committee have any role in the development and negotiation of the Gold Fields agreements? What criteria did Parliament use to evaluate the Gold Fields agreements before passing them?

Public Ownership of Minerals and Accountability

The fact that all that we know about the Gold Fields development agreements have come from the company and the continued refusal of the Government and public institutions to answer the questions we have raised form part of a deeply entrenched culture of refusing to provide information and account to Ghanaians for the management of the country’s non-renewable mineral resources (minerals, oil and gas). This practice violates the fiduciary and accountability obligations under Article 257 (6) of the 1992 Constitution. Under that provision minerals are ‘vested in the President on behalf of, and in trust for the people of Ghana.’ This means that the Ghanaian people are the beneficial owners of the minerals and the Government as the trustee should manage the country’s mineral wealth in the best interests of the people. This can only be ensured by the accountability of public mineral governance institutions and private entities exploiting the minerals, underpinned by the citizens’ access to information.

In February the Government loudly celebrated winning an EITI award for being an exemplary implementer of the principles of revenue transparency. There is a deep and almost farcical irony in Ghana being feted as a model for revenue transparency whilst the Government and public institutions refuse to account and provide information to Ghanaians, the owners of the minerals, about the contracts that are the source of the revenues.

Issued on 12 April, 2016 by Third World Network-Africa, No. 9 Asmara St, East Legon, Accra (communications@twnafrica.org) website: www.twnafrica.org

Featured Photograph: Yao Graham, Coordinator of TWN, addressing a press conference in Accra, on Monday 4 April, 2016

In memoriam, in struggle: Lila Chouli

By Pascal Bianchini and Leo Zeilig 

On 25 March, the activist, researcher and writer Lila Chouli died less than a year after receiving the news that she had an incurable illness. As a profoundly private person, Lila would have probably preferred for us not to write an obituary-yet the significance of her life, her work and her contribution to Africa’s struggle for liberation and justice compels us to write.

Lila was born in 1977 in the North of France from an immigrant family from Algeria. After studying communications and journalism in her home region, she moved to Paris for work. A few years later, after reading the book La Françafrique, which exposed, like no study before, France’s exploitative relationship with its ex-colonies in Africa, she decided to meet the author François Xavier Verschave. Soon afterwards she started to collaborate with Survie-an organisation that denonces all forms of French neocolonial intervention in Africa and campaigns for a transformation of French foreign policy in Africa.

In 2004, she travelled for the first time to Burkina Faso, to meet activists from the Association nationale des étudiants du Burkina (National Association of Burkinabè Students) and the Mouvement burkinabè des droits de l’homme et des peuples (Burkinabè Movement for Human Rights). In 2007, she started to work as a copy-editor for the Council for the Development of Social Science Research in Africa (CODESRIA) in Dakar. Two years later she wrote her first research articles (published Savoir-Agir and the Journal of Higher Education in Africa), and became a Research Fellow at the University of Johannesburg in South Africa.

In 2010, she moved to London where she worked at the well-known left-wing bookshop Bookmarks. As events in Burkina Faso unfolded in 2011 after the death of the schoolboy, Justin Zongo, on 20 February, following several violent arrests by the police, Lila maintained her exacting focus on the tumultuous movements that rippled across the landlocked West African country. In 2012, her book on Burkina Faso’s extraordinary year was published, Burkina Faso 2011: Chronicle d’un mouvement social (Burkina Faso 2011: Account of a Social Movement) – in English, the same year, a group of activists translated a section of her book for the pamphlet, Popular Protests, Military Mutinies and Workers Struggles. The book, that spoke of the waves of protests, of students, miners in the country’s gold mines, agricultural workers, and army mutinies, made a significant impact in Burkina Faso, where Lila’s respect among activists, trade unionists and student leaders was considerable.

After the publication of her 2012 book, Lila was called to speak at various events. Invited to Dakar for a conference about social movements in Africa, she developed new contacts with African academics and activists and also left-leaning institutes, such as the Rosa Luxemburg Foundation. In December 2013, she returned to Burkina Faso to make a documentary about the gold mining boom and the exploitation of mine-workers – the film was released in 2015.

From research for the film she wrote a new book that was published in 2014 by the radical Fondation Gabriel Peri, where she was then employed. Le boom minier au Burkina Faso, (The Mining Boom in Burkina Faso) analysed the country’s mining boom, mainly of gold. The boom was sold to the population as a contribution to its development – Burkina Faso has long ranked among the poorest countries in the world, 181 of 187 countries according to the United Nations Human Development Index in 2013. Lila’s book showed that the vast majority of the population have seen no benefits from the boom. Worse, she wrote, how the populations surrounding the industrial mining sites had in fact become poorer than before the arrival of transnational corporations. Lila’s book provided both invaluable context to the boom and individual testimony of those most affected, and struggling against, the mining giants.

When the popular uprising in Burkina Faso took place in October 2014, she wrote several articles and was invited by television and radio stations to speak on the events. She was working on a new book about the uprising of 2014 and the period of transition when she received the diagnosis-in early spring 2015 she was told her disease could not be cured. Despite this, another book on the student movement in Burkina Faso from the 1990 to 2011, was prepared for publication. Progress of this study was delayed because Lila, in September 2015, was preoccupied by her activism at Gabriel Peri. We hope this book, will be published in the coming months.

In a few years, Lila was incredibly prolific, respected as both an analyst and activist – the two were entirely, necessarily, interchangeable for her. From 2012 she became known as one of the main ‘specialists’ on Burkina Faso, even if she rejected this term. Lila was both extremely rigourous in her intellectual work and completely committed to contribute to the emancipation of the ‘wretched of the earth’. Her writing and research can only be understood from this commitment, research for research sake was meaningless for her.

Embracing her proletarian, immigrant background, she always sided with the underdog and refused to accept positions which were alien to her rebel spirit; for instance, in her twenties Lila was selected to become a communication officer at the African Union in Addis Ababa-work that would have guaranteed a comfortable and exciting life at the centre of formal African politics. She refused the offer. In the last years of her life she was invited into the academic world, yet she remained reluctant to abide by the unwritten rules of the system, requiring respect of academic ‘experts’ whom she never feared to openly contradict. She never sought career opportunities, instead she wrote studies of astonishing ‘academic’ value living for most of her time on occasional jobs or on the dole. Though Lila established lasting connections with activists and organisations, in Europe and Africa, she never became a formal member of any organisation.

Paying attention to everyone she met, scrutinizing events and declarations, Lila had a tireless commitment to thorough research. Yet she was hard on herself, working for weeks in libraries, permanently fearing that she would be caught out or had an insufficient theoretical framework. Her research interest were also broad.

However, she was not only able to write accurate accounts based on original empirical material, Lila demonstrated an ability to analyse political strategies and critical political developments with a high degree of theoretical sophistication. For instance, she showed how the repression of the student movement from the 1990’s to the 2000’s evolved from blatant use of violence towards a more legal system of control (what she called the ‘domestication’ of the student movements). On the other hand, to explain the long-lasting effects of mobilisations, she explained the fluctuation of active phases of mobilisation and of decline through the phenomenon of ‘abeyance’-employing the concept of the American scholar Verta Taylor. She also located the exploitation of gold and of the workforce in the mines of Burkina Faso in the context of the capitalist ‘accumulation by dispossession’, a concept coined and theorized by David Harvey.

In her last work, she argued that the fall of the Blaise Compaoré and his regime in Burkina Faso, with the 2014 revolution, was principally the result of long-term popular struggles that had been possible through the engagement of counter-hegemonic forces — mainly the trade union federation, CGT-B or the Mouvement burkinabè des droits de l’homme et des peuples or even more recently the Organisation Démocratique de la Jeunesse (Democratic Youth Organisation). She made these observations on the basis of extensive research and frequently in opposition to the views that stated that the revolution in October 2014, and the revolts that had preceded it, was motivated almost entirely by the legacy of Thomas Sankara, the radical army captain and head of state, murdered in 1987, and the late-born Le Balai Citoyen (The Citizen broom). Lila shunned all intellectual fashions, and political orthodoxy-old and new. In line with Frantz Fanon’s views, she considered that official political leadership or more recently the media, that monopolises the commentary on Africa and elsewhere in the Third World, is largely irrelevant, compared to the level of political consciousness of the poor and marginalized active in revolutionary change.

The absurdity of Lila’s early death, she was 39, makes it hard for any of us who knew her to clear the grief and see clearly. One of the writers and activists that influenced and inspired her, Frantz Fanon, wrote to his close friend when he learnt that he would not survive his sickness in 1961, ‘We are nothing on earth if we are not first of all slaves to a cause, the cause of the people, the cause of justice and freedom. I want you to know that even at the moment when the doctors had despaired I thought again [ …] of the people of the Third World, and if I held on, it is because of them.’ Lila’s death has robbed the world of a rare and committed intellectual and activist. It will take time to grieve, though it is our hope that her example will inspire those who must add their own efforts to the self-emancipation in Africa and elsewhere.

Pascal Bianchini is an independent researcher and scholar based in Dakar and Leo Zeilig is a ROAPE editor and coordinator of roape.net

Bibliography of Lila Chouli’s work

The popular uprising in Burkina Faso and the Transition’ in Review of African Political Economy, 2015, Vol. 42, No. 144, pp. 325 –333.

L’insurrection populaire et la Transition au Burkina Faso’ in Review of African Political Economy, 2015, Vol. 42, No. 143, pp. 148 –155.

(Lila’s Briefings are available to readers of roape.net who register and log-in to our members area on the website)

‘Sur l’insurrection populaire au Burkina Faso’ in Ndongo Samba Sylla (ed) Développements politiques récents en Afrique de l’Ouest  Dakar, Fondation Rosa Luxembourg  & Editions Plume, 2015, pp. 41-56.

Le boom minier au Burkina Faso. Témoignages des victimes de l’exploitation minière, Fondation Gabriel Peri, 2014.

‘Les mouvements sociaux et la recherche d’alternatives au Burkina Faso’ in Ndongo Samba Sylla (ed), Les mouvements sociaux en Afrique de l’Ouest, L’Harmattan & Fondation Rosa Luxemburg, 2014, pp. 239-275.

Popular Protests, Military Mutinies and Workers Struggles (pamphlet), Leo Zeilig (translation)

Burkina Faso 2011, Chronique d’un mouvement social, Lyon, Tahin Party, 2012.

‘Peoples’ Revolts in Burkina Faso’ in Firoze Manji and Sokari Ekine (eds), African Awakening  The Emerging Revolutions, Fahamu Books, Oxford, 2011, pp. 131-146.

Popular protests in Burkina Faso’ in Pambazuka News, n°183, April 2011

‘Harnessing students of Ouagadougou campus: on the crisis of June 2008’, in Journal of Higher Education in Africa, CODESRIA, n°3, 2009, pp. 1-28 [in French, ‘La domestication des étudiants du campus de Ouagadougou : Sur la crise de Juin 2008’]

‘Neoliberalism in the higher education of Burkina Faso’ in Revue Savoir / Agir, n°10, December 2009, pp. 119-127 [in French, ‘Le néolibéralisme dans l’enseignement supérieur burkinabé’]

Martin Legassick: Reminiscences of the Young Scholar Activist

By Edward Streinhart

I first met Martin Legassick when we were both graduate students in African History studying under Prof. Leonard Thompson at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA).  As I recall Martin arrived in the middle of the academic year 1963-64 after a year in Ghana doing an M.A. at the university at Legon. Curiously and significantly, I did not meet him in class or on campus.  Instead we met at what I believe was the first anti-apartheid demonstration to take place in Los Angeles. It was the anniversary of the Sharpeville massacre and Martin had organized a protest to both commemorate that event and to dramatize the recent passage of the 30 Day Detention Law.  He did this by fasting for 30 hours while a dozen or so placard carrying protesters from both the city and UCLA picketed in front of the entrance to the South African consulate. The protest drew coverage in the conservative L.A. Times, which chose to ignore the much larger demonstration against the escalating U.S. War in Vietnam. Out of this demonstration that was also attended by Tony (Anthony) Ngubo and Ben (Bernard) Magubane, both students of Sociology at UCLA, came one of the first, if not the first, campus-based anti-apartheid movements in North America.

I will return to Martin’s anti-apartheid activism, but for now I want to discuss his career as a budding scholar of South Africa. As a grad student, I learned of Martin’s arrival at UCLA from Prof. Thompson who was eager to add the brilliant and more experienced scholar to his contingent of students. Martin would immediately join Kennell Jackson as the twin stars of the program.  Both were head and shoulders above those of us who had entered the program straight from undergraduate schools usually without any experience of Africa, except those who had been in the first groups of Peace Corps volunteers. Martin’s first-hand knowledge of South Africa and his educational experience in Ghana put me in awe. For instance, as a result of his researches in Ghana on Samori Touré’s military, he had already published his first article. Similarly, Kennell had returned from completing a Master’s degree at Cambridge studying anthropology under Edmund Leach that gave him instant star status as well.  Despite stark differences in their backgrounds and approaches, they became friends and roommates. They shared a two-bedroom house in a ramshackle complex of three buildings on Federal Avenue in West L.A. Shortly after they moved there, I would take a room in the adjacent house in the complex, often taking my evening meal with them and sharing in the conversations about history, politics and Africa that were the best part of my graduate education. Indeed, it is my understanding that many of our fellow students often sat at the feet of Martin and Kennell rather than their formal instructors.  Both Martin and Kennell were among the first generation of African historians who were not ‘re-tread’ imperial or colonial historians and who incorporated anthropological and other social science methods in their original works.  They would complete their doctorates at UCLA and go on to important teaching positions at the University of California, Santa Barbara and Stanford University respectively. Martin in particular always had one eye on the political and social implications of his work. His dissertation on the Northern Cape Province would eventually inform the significant work he was doing near the end of his life on land claims restitution in that region.

That brings me back to Martin’s activism and political awakening in those early years. Within a few months of his arrival in California, he had organized single-handed both a demonstration and an ongoing organization to increase awareness and stimulate protests against apartheid laws and racist conditions in South Africa. From the outset Ben Magubane, Tony Ngubo, Alan Smith and I, all from UCLA, participated in the fledgling organization that Martin named the South African Freedom Action Committee (SAFAC). We were soon joined by several people from the L.A. community, in particular two dedicated young women, Judy Dollenmayer and Kris Kleinbauer, who attended weekly meetings and planned and participated in public protests and educational efforts. Make no mistake, Martin’s presence was essential to everything we did, in town or on campus. Most memorable for me were the series of radio documentaries that Martin produced and wrote for Pacifica Radio in which I played the voice of George Steiner, the British intellectual and early critic of apartheid. South African Mansell Williams and his wife, Liza, played more important roles both on radio and in other activities of the Los Angeles group at that stage.

Because we needed access to UCLA facilities, we created a campus chapter, also called SAFAC, in which I played the common Hollywood role of the “front” or face-person for the messages and programs that Martin crafted. This included speaking at an anti-Vietnam war rally at UCLA to compare the violence and racism of the two global crises of the 1960’s and beyond. I also was joined by Tony Ngubo in confronting UCLA president Franklin Murphy, who had recently been named to the board of Ford Motors, about the despicable role that Ford played in the creation and maintenance of the low-wage border industries zone in the Eastern Cape where they had built an automobile assembly plant. Briefly persuaded by our arguments about the unfairness and dangers of investment in such a volatile region, President Murphy said he would bring it up to the board….unless of course Ford could amortize their investment within three years. Only a decade or more later did Ford see the logic of our position, when under pressure from the international divestment movement, it sold its South African holdings to the local (white) management. Although the campus chapter of SAFAC officially sponsored these and other activities, it was Martin who was generally the initiator and resource for all we did to advance the anti-apartheid movement on campus.

Life was not all ‘the struggle’. Many of my memories of Martin at UCLA had to do with his vitality and sociability. I recall his generosity in lending me his 1953 Chevy so I could drive the 60 miles with my then girlfriend to spend Christmas Eve with her parents across the L.A. basin in Pomona. As a high point of our friendship, I remember our hosting a theme party in our mutual backyard. The theme was an art gallery opening at which we displayed rubbings of Los Angeles manhole covers. These were created the night before by driving Martin’s Chevy around town looking for these interesting sanitation department artifacts. Stopping the car in the middle of quiet streets and using paper, red paint and a roller we created the ‘art’ by the light of the car’s headlight beams.  I think now that the manhole cover rubbings were a foreshadowing of Martin’s entry into his many years of work in the underground.

I left UCLA at the end of the 1965-66 academic year, and thus ended my almost daily contacts with Martin. By the time I left, Martin had begun his serious political economy reading that within a few years marked him as a major thinker and leftist writer on the politics of South Africa with whom readers of ROAPE are familiar. His education in Marxism if not Trotskyism had begun before I departed and I like to think that my undergraduate education at the City College of New York, known then as a radical hotbed, may have helped start him on the path he followed throughout his life.  Needless to say, he quickly and decisively outpaced whatever rudimentary understandings I had brought with me to California. What that meant for our future friendship was that whenever and wherever we met, we rarely found ourselves out of step with each other. We managed to spend time together in Madison, Wisconsin and Austin, Texas when he was teaching at Santa Barbara and in Coventry when he was at Warwick, and especially in London after he left the academy to pursue his political calling full time. There I would learn from him both about current developments in the struggle and his theoretical take on the course of South Africa’s liberation. When he returned to South Africa in the early 1990s, I began making periodic visits to Cape Town whenever my own research took me to the continent. I was always impressed by the depth of his commitment to the struggle for liberation, both before and after independence. Even more was I impressed by his intellectual contributions during his long years in exile, his years at University of the Western Cape, and in retirement from teaching. Mind you, he never retired from the struggle nor from the commitment and energy he showed in sharing his ideas and working to understand as well as to change the world.  This is perhaps the most important thing I learned from our friendship and the thing I most admire and will always remember about Martin Legassick.

Edward Steinhart is a professor emeritus at Texas Tech University, Lubbock. An anti-apartheid activist for 30 years, he worked with American, Canadian, and British-based movements for the liberation of southern Africa.   

Featured photograph: Painting of the Sharpeville massacre, which took place 21 March 1960, Sharpeville, South Africa, currently located in the South African Consulate in London.

For 50 years, ROAPE has brought our readers pathbreaking analysis on radical African political economy in our quarterly review, and for more than ten years on our website. Subscriptions and donations are essential to keeping our review and website alive.
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For 50 years, ROAPE has brought our readers pathbreaking analysis on radical African political economy in our quarterly review, and for more than ten years on our website. Subscriptions and donations are essential to keeping our review and website alive.
We use cookies to collect and analyse information on site performance and usage, and to enhance and customise content. By clicking into any content on this site, you agree to allow cookies to be placed. To find out more see our