A decision last week by the plenary of the IEBC to send chief executive officer Ezra Chiloba on forced leave to pave way for a 90-day audit by the Kenya National Audit Office blasted open the simmering rivalries that have dogged this Commission’s tenure since it came to office in January 2017. As accusations and counter-accusations fly, it is now apparent that conflicts of interests over procurement tenders, rather than political factionalism or even the struggle to establish the truth of the August elections last year, will be the IEBC’s comeuppance.
Chiloba’s suspension triggered the resignations of commissioners Connie Nkatha Maina, who was the vice-chair, Margaret Mwachanya and Paul Kurgat. The trio’s departure, in addition to the dramatic resignation of commissioner Roselyn Akombe ahead of the October 26, 2017 presidential election re-run, denies the seven-member commission the necessary quorum of four to convene. Simply put, the Commission is paralysed.
Paralysis at the Commission will, among other things, throw a spanner in the works of the rumoured referendum on a constitutional amendment to replace the current presidential system with a parliamentary one – supposedly the end-game of the March 9 handshake between Uhuru Kenyatta and Raila Odinga.
While Ruto may have been the puppet-master who engineered the commissioners’ resignations – the influence of Ruto’s faction of the Jubilee party on the Commission has long been whispered – ostensibly to protect both his current position and his 2022 presidential ambitions, two other important casualties could well go down with a moribund IEBC: the truth of the August 2017 elections, and serious attempts at long-term electoral reform. These things, as we shall see, are not unrelated.
But first, to the ongoing drama at the Commission. Chiloba first found himself in trouble with his commissioners last year, in the messy aftermath of the presidential elections annulment, as the Commission prepared for a fresh poll. It is well worth noting that his latest suspension arises from some of the questions Chebukati raised in his leaked September 1, 2017 memo. Investigating five procurement tenders, the IEBC’s five-member Audit and Risk Committee found that Chiloba as the Commission’s chief accounting officer, committed serious violations of the Public Procurement Act in at least two instances.
While Ruto may have been the puppet-master who engineered the commissioners’ resignations – the influence of Ruto’s faction of the Jubilee party on the Commission has long been whispered – ostensibly to protect both his current position and his 2022 presidential ambitions, two other important casualties could well go down with a moribund IEBC: the truth of the August 2017 elections, and serious attempts at long-term electoral reform.
The first involved a Ksh 275 million contract with Oracle Technology Systems (Kenya) Ltd to provide election database solutions. The Audit Committee noted that: “There was no contract for provision of Oracle Database and Security Solution…between IEBC and Oracle Technology Systems (Kenya) Ltd drawn by [the Commission’s Directorate of Legal and Public Affairs] and signed by IEBC and Oracle Representatives. Instead, signed ordering documents drawn by Oracle…were provided [as evidence of a contract].”
Observing earlier that there had been no tender award notification, the committee described this situation as ‘High Risk’. More seriously, noted the committee, full implementation of the Oracle database system was only finalised on February 14, 2018, six months after the elections.
The second, once again, is tech-related: a Ksh 913 million contract, with Airtel Kenya Ltd, for the delivery of 1,553 Thuraya satellite modems – to be used for results transmission in remote areas. Signed just three weeks before the August 8 elections, in its acceptance letter, Airtel Kenya indicated that it could only deliver 1,000 modems in time. “Nonetheless,” notes the committee in the report, “the Commission proceeded to execute an agreement for 1,553 devices. Inquire why the Commission purchased 553 devices – despite the correspondence.”
The remaining 553 devices arrived two-and-a-half weeks after the elections.
IEBC chairman Wafula Chebukati and Dr Akombe lost a plenary battle to force Chiloba out of the commission following the Supreme Court’s annulment of the August 8 presidential election. At the time, attempts to obtain some answers from Chiloba for the disastrous August elections were fought off by Deputy President William Ruto, who claimed in a television interview that all the answers to the questions being raised had been provided. When Chiloba’s suspension looked irreversible last week, we are reliably informed, the three resigning commissioners consulted Ruto before taking the leap.
With Chiloba’s suspension now underway and the National Audit Office stepping in, the corruption investigation will only complicate the mystery around the 2017 elections – and further delay any efforts to fix the IEBC. Disputed elections in Kenya have nurtured a culture of rewarding suspected wrongdoers instead of punishing them. The Samuel Kivuitu-led Electoral Commission of Kenya, which presided over the disputed 2007 elections, was booted out of office at a cost of Sh68 million. Its successor, the Isaack Hassan-led Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission received Sh315 million to leave office a year early.
Law scholar Muthomi Thiankolu observes that electoral malpractice does not occur by itself; that there are human beings behind it. “We have, since 1962, ignored them through legal sophistry. The courts’ refusal to personally sanction malpractice gives life to this perverse incentive.”
While the Kriegler Commission recommended root-and-branch electoral reforms after the 2007 elections debacle, the fact that the IEBC’s report on the 2013 elections was rejected by Bunge – there is to this day no comprehensive accounting of what happened in 2013 – suggests that even the piecemeal reforms eventually instituted under Kriegler were sabotaged by Executive capture. Accountability for electoral malfeasance remains Kenya’s political bugbear. Ironically, neither a Jubilee-run parliament, nor a demand for a popular referendum (á la the opposition’s Okoa Kenya initiative) submitted to a captured IEBC is likely to succeed.
With the resignation of the commissioners at the IEBC, a referendum appears out of the question, given the history that the opposition Coalition for Reforms and Democracy had with the Okoa Kenya (Save Kenya) initiative. After a year of public mobilization, the IEBC ruled that the referendum bill was dead on arrival because the movement had not collected the requisite one million signatures to warrant its presentation to the county assemblies for a vote.
CORD resorted to mass action outside the IEBC offices that ended in a Sh315 million buyout of the commissioner’s contract remainders, achieving the replacement of new commissioners seven months to the election.
The Audit Committee noted that: “There was no contract for provision of Oracle Database and Security Solution…between IEBC and Oracle Technology Systems (Kenya) Ltd drawn by [the Commission’s Directorate of Legal and Public Affairs] and signed by IEBC and Oracle Representatives. Instead, signed ordering documents drawn by Oracle…were provided [as evidence of a contract].”
With both the parliamentary and referendum routes to electoral justice closing, a managerial housecleaning may seem an acceptable compromise, but there are few guarantees that, as happened during the bipartisan Windsor Reform exercise, that it will not be scuttled by an Executive desperate to cling to power. Senate minority leader James Orengo and National Assembly majority leader Aden Duale appear to agree that the whole IEBC team needs to go, but none has reckoned with how long their replacements will be in coming. More dangerously, it will be harking back to the tried and failed methods of piecemeal changes to the electoral management body attempted over time.
Demands for political dialogue have significantly featured on the agenda electoral justice questions, which would entail acknowledgment of wrongdoing, punishment for election crimes, restitution for harms suffered and guarantees of non-repetition following similar disputes in the 2007, 2013 and 2017 elections.
Parliament, which has been riven by disputes over the unresolved August 2017 presidential election, was clearly doing the bidding of State House when it passed amendments to the Elections Act in the run-up to the repeat presidential election in October 2017. The amendments, which were aimed at weakening Wafula Chebukati’s authority among the commissioners, were struck down by the High Court as unconstitutional early this month. A captured Commission had by that time already unanimously endorsed Uhuru Kenyatta’s victory.
With a majority of 268 seats to NASA’s 127, Jubilee’s dominance in Parliament is not only guaranteed, it is likely to be bolstered if the trend of abortive election petitions continues. Consequently, any possibility that Bunge could become the site of genuine electoral reform is closed for the foreseeable future.
By mid February 2018 when a summary of court decisions in 244 petitions challenging the results of various races in the August 8, 2017 polls was published, Parliament had been closed off as a site of reform, turning the dream of electoral justice into a political chimera.
Over half of the 388 petitions challenging various elections had floundered for a variety of reasons — none of which had anything to do with what had happened at the ballot: Fourteen petitions were withdrawn before trial; another 14 dismissed for being filed out of time, 10 thrown out because the case papers were not served on victors; nine failed to take off because security for costs was not paid; and two could not proceed because the petitioner or their lawyers were not in court. One election winner died.
A paltry 14 petitions against the election of Members of the National Assembly and one against a governor had succeeded. Not only were the numbers in the Senate going to hold, with the Jubilee Party enjoying a majority, but the 14 by-elections for National Assembly seats posed the risk of reducing the Opposition minority from its 127.
If an incumbent has a direct interest in capturing the electoral management body to manipulate the results, then the EMB is also under pressure from crony oligarchs interested in profiting from procurement deals. Furthermore, the absence of formally funded political parties has created a gap for these very oligarchs to take control of and shape political movements. Elections in Kenya thus become a democracy auction, in which the highest bidder bags the prize.
Despite the enactment of the Political Parties Act in 2012, which provides that 0.3 per cent of all revenue should go to the Political Parties Fund to resources parties, Treasury has only allocated 0.03 per cent of revenue each year. Last year, the High Court agreed that the Orange Democratic Movement should have been paid the Sh4.1 billion owed to it from the fund, but ruled that claiming it late put the party at fault.
Nothing illustrates the desperation around the award of specific tenders and contracts more graphically than the last-minute litigation by the IEBC against the cancellation of the Sh2.5 billion ballot-printing contract to Al Ghurair of the United Arab Emirates. After contesting every court decision over eight months, the IEBC prevailed because the Court of Appeal realized that the country had run out of time to appoint a new supplier for the ballot materials.
The 2010 referendum on the draft constitution, considered one of the cleanest electoral events in recent history, gave birth to the Chickengate scandal, in which British printer Smith & Ouzman padded the cost of ballot papers in order to raise bribes for Kenyan officials awarding the tender. The British Crown Court fined the company Sh52 million and jailed its director. For its part, Kenya received the Sh52 million fine and spent it on ambulances. Three people were charged in connection with receiving bribes last year, a month to the elections.
If an incumbent has a direct interest in capturing the electoral management body to manipulate the results, then the EMB is also under pressure from crony oligarchs interested in profiting from procurement deals. Furthermore, the absence of formally funded political parties has created a gap for these very oligarchs to take control of and shape political movements. Elections in Kenya thus become a democracy auction…
The sheer scale of electoral operations has created a micro economy out of elections in Kenya, attracting a gaggle of sleaze-balls into election management. Questions have been raised over the award of Sh2.4 billion technology contracts to OT Morpho, the firm at the centre of the crisis involving the presidential election results, as well as the multi-million shilling supply of satellite phones for results transmission redundancy. Additionally, IEBC has been forking out billions of shillings in legal fees despite having a fully staffed legal department.
Instructively, criminal cases against former IEBC chief executive officer James Oswago, his deputy Wilson Shollei and managers Edward Karisa and Willy Kamanga over the purchase of Sh1.3 billion of biometric voter identification kits are still in court, six years after the Supreme Court recommended investigation and prosecution.
From the 2017 elections, a handful of election officials have been charged with petty offences relating to altering results in 2017, but accountability for major electoral breaches still remain the stuff of the political circuit.
Lucre is the reward for election managers to look the other way as politicians steal the vote. Still, with all its election problems, Kenya is already so far ahead of the pack in the region that, not unlike its steeplechase runners, it can afford to slow down the pace to allow those behind to catch up.
As it is, elections cannot be challenged in Tanzania once results are announced; in Uganda, courts can find elections flawed and still uphold the results. In Rwanda and Burundi, it never gets that serious. Unfortunately, the failure to debate and tackle questions of electoral justice loads them with grievances about exclusion of ethnicities, constructs narratives of marginalization and makes for less stable societies.
Kenya has unsuccessfully experimented with a representative commission bringing together political parties and a professional outfit, to no avail. Like the male praying mantis approaches an act of mating with the knowledge of its inevitable fate, so too have electoral commissions in Kenya come to conduct polls knowing that their heads will be shortly bitten off.
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Lava Jato: The CIA’s Poisoned Gift to Brazil
Recently leaked conversations show shocking levels of US involvement in Brazil’s Lava Jato corruption case against former president Lula da Silva.
“I’m going to celebrate today.”— Laura Tessler
“A gift from the CIA.”— Deltan Dallagnol
These recently leaked quotes refer to the arrest and jailing of former Brazilian President Lula da Silva in April 2018 that changed the course of the country’s history. It opened the door to far-right candidate Jair Bolsonaro, who came to power with the support of the United States and powerful corporate interests.
Although US involvement in the once heralded anti-corruption investigation operation Lava Jato has been publicly known for some time, leaked conversations between its prosecutors like Tessler and Dallagnol and Judge Sergio Moro have revealed a level of collusion that has shocked even the keenest observers.
A petition filed with the Federal Supreme Court (STF) by the defence of ex-president Lula presents such new evidence that ex-judge Sergio Moro colluded with foreign authorities in conducting the process which led to the arrest of the Workers Party leader, and his subsequent barring from a run for the presidency in 2018.
In the latest leaked Telegram conversations, which are now official court documents, the level of illegal collaboration visible between the Lava Jato task force and the internationally promoted judge is the most flagrant yet, and more valuable for Lula’s defence than chats first published by the Intercept in 2019.
The latest excerpts could result in the politically motivated case against Lula being annulled.
Ex-judge Sergio Moro and head of the Lava Jato task force Deltan Dallagnol have been accused of “treason” for their illegal collusion with United States authorities. In 2017, deputy US attorney general Kenneth Blanco boasted at an Atlantic Council event of informal (illegal) collaboration with Brazilian prosecutors on the Lula case, citing it as a success story. In 2019 the U.S. Department of Justice attempted to pay the Lava Jato task force a $682 million dollar kickback, ostensibly for them to set up a “private foundation to fight corruption”.
On April 5, 2018, the day Lula was arrested by Moro, prosecutor Isabel Grobba revealed the news: “Moro orders Lula to be arrested,” and Deltan Dallagnol replied: “Before MA (Supreme Court Justice Marco Aurélio) screws everything up.” Dallagnol was referring to what Marco Aurélio was then preparing; a Supreme Court vote which would potentially see defendants such as Lula freed from jail pending their second appeal.
Had this passed, it would’ve enabled Lula to run for president at the 2018 election. Polling at that point showed him twenty points ahead of nearest rival, U.S. backed far right candidate Jair Bolsonaro.
After coming to power, Jair Bolsonaro and Sergio Moro — who had been appointed as Bolsonaro’s Justice Minister — made an unprecedented visit to CIA headquarters in Langley, with the backing of Wall Street. The FBI has also massively increased its reach in Brazil since the election and was in direct, legal and illegal collaboration with Lava Jato task force since its inception, with its main liaison and now head of FBI’s international corruption unit, Leslie Backschies, boasting that it had “toppled Presidents in Brazil”.
Cooperation between Brazilian and United States authorities, including the use of FBI hackers to break encrypted files, had become clear long before the arrest of the ex-president. Messages from August 31, 2016, when Dilma Rousseff faced her final impeachment hearing, already prove this.
FBI use of hackers in Brazil dates back to 2012 when they encouraged a group from ‘Anonymous’ to attack Brazilian government and corporate institutions and online infrastructure, in a staged protest against “corruption”. Sérgio Bruno revealed: “Janot (Prosecutor General) was with people from the US Embassy last week and it seems that he commented on this [breaking into files via illegal means], without going into details (sic)”.
On the same day, Brazilian prosecutor Roberson Pozzobon also mentions the task force’s cooperation with FBI hackers: “We asked to see if the FBI has the expertise to break (into encrypted files)”.
The following year, Janot toured the world promoting Operation Lava Jato at investor events, both in the United States, and at the World Economic Forum in Davos, describing the now-disgraced anti-corruption operation as “pro-market”, a political position it was not supposed to have. Cooperation with Swiss and Swedish authorities is also evident from the leaked conversations.
A recent announcement has stated that Lava Jato, or Car Wash, as it was relentlessly promoted in the English-speaking media, will be shut down completely later this year, having helped wreck Brazil’s economy and eviscerate its democracy.
Editorial note: The following is an edited version of the article originally published by Brasil Wire. It has been amended to provide context for the recent developments in the Lava Jato corruption case. You can find all of Brasil Wire’s articles on operation Lava Jato here.
Is Balkanisation the Solution to Somalia’s Governance Woes?
Thirty years after the civil war of 1991, Somalia has still not been able to develop a functional governance structure that delivers services to the people. Federalism has also not delivered political stability. Is it time for Somalia to break up into independent clan-based states?
When former prime minister Mohamed Abdullahi Farmaajo was elected president of the Federal Government of Somalia in 2017, many lauded his victory. Unlike his predecessors, Farmaajo was viewed as a leader who would unite the country because he had a nationalistic mindset and was someone who was not influenced by clan interests. Many believed that, unlike his predecessor, Hassan Sheikh, whose tenure was marred by corruption allegations and in-fighting, he would bring together a country that has remained fragmented along clan lines and endured internal conflicts for decades. He was also perceived to be someone who would address corruption that has been endemic in every Somali government since the days of President Siad Barre.
Sadly, Farmaajo’s tenure did not result in significant transformation of Somali governance structures or politics. On the contrary, his open hostility towards leaders of federal states – notably Jubbaland, where he is said to have interfered in elections by imposing his own candidate – and claims that corruption in his government had increased, not decreased, left many wondering if he had perhaps been over-rated. Now opposition groups have said that they will not recognise him as the head of state as he has failed to organise the much anticipated one-person-one-vote election that was due this month, which would have either extended or ended his term. This apparent power vacuum has caused some jitters in the international community, whose backing Farmaajo has enjoyed.
However, it would be naïve to assume that Farmaajo’s exit is a critical destabilising factor in Somalia, because, frankly, the president in present-day Somalia is merely a figurehead; he does not wield real power. The government in Mogadishu has had little control over the rest of the country, where clan-based fiefdoms and federal states do pretty much what they want, with little reference go Mogadishu. National security is largely in the hands of the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) forces, not the Somalia National Army.
The concept of a state that delivers services to citizens has also remained a mirage for most Somalis who are governed either by customary law known as xeer or the Sharia. Some have even argued that with its strict codes and hold over populations through systems of “tax collection” or “protection fees” combined with service delivery, Al Shabaab actually offers a semblance of “governance” in the areas it controls – even if these taxes are collected through extortion or threats of violence.
In much of Somalia, services, such as health and education, are largely provided by foreign faith-based foundations, non-governmental organisations or the private sector, not the state. Many hospitals and schools are funded by foreign (mostly Arab) governments or religious institutions. This means that the state remains largely absent in people’s lives. And because NGOs and foundations can only do so much, much of the country remains unserviced, with the result that Somalia continues to remain one of the most underdeveloped countries in the world, with high levels of illiteracy (estimates indicate that the literacy rate is as low as 20 per cent). State institutions, such as the Central Bank and revenue collection authorities, are also either non-existent or dysfunctional.
Efforts by the United Nations and the international community to bring a semblance of governance by supporting governments that are heavily funded by Western and Arab countries have not helped to establish the institutions necessary for the government to run efficiently. On the contrary, some might argue that that foreign aid has been counter-productive as it has entrenched corruption in government (as much of the aid is stolen by corrupt officials) and slowed down Somalia’s recovery.
Foreign governments have also been blamed for destabilising Somalia. The US-backed Ethiopian invasion of Somalia in 2006, which succeeded in ousting the Islamic Courts Union (ICU) – which had successfully brought about a semblance of governance in Somalia through a coalition of Muslim clerics and businessmen – spawned radical groups like Al Shabaab, which have wreaked havoc in Somalia ever since. Kenya’s misguided “incursion” into Somalia in 2011, had a similar effect: Al Shabaab unleashed its terror on Kenyan soil, and Kenya lost its standing as a neutral country that does not intervene militarily in neighbouring countries. Certain Arab countries, notably Qatar and the United Arab Emirates, have also been accused of interfering in Somalia’s elections by sponsoring favoured candidates.
All of Somalia’s governments since 2004, when a transitional government was established, have thus failed to re-build state institutions that were destroyed during the civil war or to deliver services to the Somali people. In its entire eight-year tenure, from October 2004 to August 2012, the Transitional Federal Government (TFG) did not have the capacity to become a fully functioning government, with a fully-fledged revenue collecting authority and robust ministries. Ministers had no portfolios and ministries had skeletal staff. The national army was weak and under-funded, and since 2007, the government has relied almost exclusively on African Union soldiers for security, though some donors, notably Turkey, have attempted to revive the Somalia National Army.
Somalia’s first post-transition government was elected in 2012 under a United Nations-brokered constitution. Hassan Sheikh was elected as president with much enthusiasm and in the belief that things would be different under a government that had the goodwill of the people. In his first year in office, President Hassan Sheikh was named by TIME magazine as one of the world’s 100 most influential people. Somalia expert Ken Menkhaus called his election “a seismic event” that “electrified Somalis and both surprised and relieved the international community”. However, it would not be long before his government would also be marred by corruption allegations.
What governance model should Somalia adopt?
There has been some debate about which type of governance model is most suitable for a country that is not just divided along clan/regional lines, but where lack of functioning secular institutions threaten nation-building.
Federalism, that is, regional autonomy within a single political system, has been proposed by the international community as the most suitable system for Somalia as it caters for deep clan divisions by allocating the major clans semi-autonomous regional territories. The 4.5 formula for government representation proposed by the constitution based on the four largest clans (Darod, Hawiye, Dir and Rahanweyne) and 0.5 positions for minorities does acknowledge the reality of a clan-based society, but as Somalia’s recent history has shown, clan can be, and has been, manipulated for personal gain by politicians. As dominant clans seek to gain power in a federated Somalia, there is also the danger that the new federal states will mimic the corruption and dysfunction that has prevailed at the centre, which will lead to more competition for territories among rival clans and, therefore, to more conflict.
Several experts have also proposed a building block approach, whereby the country is divided into six local administrative structures that would eventually resemble a patchwork of semi-autonomous territories defined in whole or in part by clan affiliation.. In one such proposal, the Isaaq clan would dominate Somaliland in the northwest; the Majerteen in present-day Puntland would dominate the northeast; the heterogeneous Jubbaland and Gedo regions bordering Kenya would have a mixture of clans (though there are now fears that the Ogaden, who are politically influential along the Kenya border, would eventually control the region); a Hawiye-dominated polity would dominate central Somalia; the Digil-Mirifle would centre around Bay and Bakol; and Mogadishu would remain a cosmopolitan administrative centre.
Somaliland offers important lessons on the governance models that could work in a strife-torn society divided along clan lines and where radical Islamist factions have taken root. Since it declared independence from Somalia in 1991, Somaliland has remained relatively peaceful and has had its own government and institutions that have worked quite well and brought a semblance of normality in this troubled region.
After Siad Barre ordered an attack on Hargeisa following opposition to his rule there, Somaliland decided to forge its own path and disassociate from the dysfunction that marked both the latter part of Barre’s regime and the warlordism that replaced it during the civil war. It then adopted a unique hybrid system of governance, which incorporates elements of traditional customary law, Sharia law and modern secular institutions, including a parliament, a judiciary, an army and a police force. The Guurti, the upper house of Somaliland’s legislature, comprises traditional clan elders, religious leaders and ordinary citizens from various professions who are selected by their respective clans. The Guurti wields enormous decision-making powers and is considered one of the stabilising factors in Somaliland’s inclusive governance model. Michael Walls, the author of A Somali Nation-State: History, Culture and Somaliland’s Political Transition, has described Somaliland’s governance model as “the first indigenous modern African form of government” that fuses traditional forms of organisation with those of representative democracy.
However, Somaliland’s governance model is far from perfect: the consensual clan-based politics has hindered issue-based politics, eroded individual rights and led to the perception that some clans, such as the dominant Isaaq clan, are favoured over others. Tensions across its eastern border with Puntland also threaten its future stability.
In addition, because it is still not recognised internationally as a sovereign state, Somaliland is denied many of the opportunities that come with statehood. It cannot easily enter into bilateral agreements with other countries, get multinational companies to invest there or obtain loans from international financial institutions, though in recent years it has been able to overcome some of these obstacles.
Somaliland is also not recognised by the Federal Government of Somalia, which believes that Somaliland will eventually relent and unite with Somalia, which seems highly unrealistic at this time. This is one reason why the Somali government gets so upset when Kenyan leaders engage with Somaliland leaders, as happened recently when Mogadishu withdrew its ambassador from Nairobi after President Uhuru Kenyatta met with the Somaliland leader Musa Bihi Abdi at State House. Raila Odinga’s recent call to the international community to recognise Somaliland as an independent state has been welcomed by Somalilanders, but is viewed with suspicion by the federal government in Mogadishu
Nonetheless, there has been some debate about whether Somaliland’s hybrid governance model, which incorporates both customary and Western-style democracy, is perhaps the best governance model for Somalia. Is the current Western- and internationally-supported political dispensation in Somalia that has emerged after three decades of anarchy a “fake democracy”? Can Somalia be salvaged through more home-grown solutions, like the one in Somaliland? Should Somalia break up into small autonomous states that are better able to govern themselves?
Balkanisation is usually a deprecated political term referring to, according to Wikipedia, the “disorderly or unpredictable fragmentation, or sub-fragmentation, of a larger region or state into smaller regions or states, which may be hostile or uncooperative with one another”. While usually associated with increasing instability and conflict, balkanisation could nonetheless still be the only solution for a country that has been unable to unite or to offer hope to its disillusioned citizens for more than three decades.
As Guled Ahmed of the Middle East Institute notes, “the 1995 Dayton accords, which ended the Bosnian war, paved the way for ethnic balkanisation of former Yugoslavia into six countries. This resulted in peace and stability and prosperity. So if Eastern European countries can separate along ethnicism, why not balkanise Somalia with multi-ethnicism just like the former Yugoslavia to achieve peace and stability and fair elections based on one person one vote?”, he said.
Ahmed told me that balkanisation would also eliminate Al Shabaab (which has been fighting the government in Mogadishu for the last 14 years) as the independent states created would be more vigilant about who controls their territories and also because people will have more ownership of their government. Somali refugees languishing in Kenya, Ethiopia and elsewhere might also be tempted to finally return home.
Balkanisation can, however, be messy – and bloody. But Somalia need not go down that route. A negotiated separation could still be arrived at peacefully with the blessing of the international community. If the international community is serious about peace and stability in Somalia, it should pave the way for these discussions. Sometimes divorce is preferable to an acrimonious marriage.
The Danger of the Single Story and Africa’s Refugee Equilibrium
Africans’ lack of knowledge about our own shared refugee experiences continues to fuel hate and discrimination on the continent.
For far too long, the global refugee situation has been misconstrued as static, with certain parts of the globe generating disproportionate numbers of refugees and others perpetually faced with the burden of hosting displaced peoples. In particular, Africa is seen as a producer rather than a receiver of refugees. To be clear, Africa is not a continent that feeds the world with refugees any less than it hosts them. Although Africa is seen as exceptional in terms of global refugee networks, the factors accounting for refugee crises can bedevil any region at any point in time. These factors include war, natural disasters, political upheavals, military coups, civil strife, religious or cultural persecutions, personal circumstances, economic hardship, terrorist activities, and many more.
African countries, as much as any other, have taken turns in both generating and hosting refugees, and if history is any measuring rod, will continue to do so. It is the African refugee equilibrium, a phenomenon whereby a country that at one moment in its history is feeding its neighbors with refugees can become, at another moment, the receiver of refugees from those same neighbors. Africa isn’t just feeding the world with migrants and refugees but is top on the list of hosts. As per the UNHCR statistics of 2018, 30% of the world’s 25.9 million registered refugees were being hosted in Africa. Yet, the numbers of Africans who make their way to the West as refugees and migrants occupy the headlines of international news, painting the continent and the people as a miserable “sea of humanity,” perpetually flooding the rest of the world, especially North America and Europe.
Examples of how Africa has been mutually hosting its own refugees and taking turns are unlimited. The regions of Central and West Africa have particularly exemplified the concept of the African refugee equilibrium, with many nations taking turns in generating and hosting refugees. Even in the days when it suffered refugee and migrant crises, few Equatorial Guineans left the continent; the vast majority fled to nearby Cameroon, Gabon, and Nigeria. During the First World War, the German colony of Kamerun fed the Spanish colony of Guinea with tens of thousands of refugees. But in the 1970s, Cameroon, in turn, hosted about 30,000 refugees from Equatorial Guinea. During the Nigerian Civil War, Nigeria fed several of its West and Central African neighbors with tens of thousands of refugees, including children, who ended up in countries such as Gabon and Ivory Coast. The post-civil war era has seen Nigeria host hundreds of thousands of refugees and migrants from its neighbors, even while Nigeria itself simultaneously feeds some of those neighbors with a new category of refugees.
West and Central Africa are not unique in this exchange. Since the 1960s, nations in East and Southern Africa have taken turns between hosting and generating refugees. In East Africa, the Kakuma refugee camp in the northwest of Kenya currently hosts about 200,000 refugees from more than 20 neighboring countries, including refugees from Ethiopia, Somalia, Sudan, South Sudan, Uganda, Democratic Republic of Congo, and Burundi, to name but a few. Uganda, which has sent refugees to its neighbors, including Kenya, hosts its own refugees and refugees from others. Uganda’s Bidibidi refugee camp currently ranks the second largest in the world.
Perhaps more interestingly is the fact that besides mutually hosting its own refugees, Africa has hosted refugees from other continents, including from Europe. While examples abound, a few here will suffice. During the late 19th century and the 20th century in the midst of anti-Semitism, a significant number of European Jews entered North and Eastern Africa as refugees, with some settling in as far as South Africa. On the eve of the First World War, there were already more than 40,000 Jewish migrants and refugees settled in South Africa. In the 1930s, South Africa again received more than 6,000 Jewish refugees from Nazi Germany. During the Second World War, in excess of 20,000 Polish refugees, who had been evicted from Russia and Eastern Europe following German invasion, were received and hosted in East and Southern Africa, including in modern day Tanzania, South Africa, and Zimbabwe. In the 1960s, the crisis of war and decolonization in the Congo caused the flight of several thousand whites from the Congo. They were hosted as refugees in a number of African countries, including South Africa, Congo-Brazzaville, Angola, the Central African Republic, Tanganyika, Rwanda, and Burundi.
The examples provided here only scratch the surface of the African refugee equilibrium, but they each demonstrate that we must pay attention to historical antecedents in refugee studies. In other words, we need to historicize African refugee studies. Only by so doing can we fully appreciate the important and diverse role that Africa plays. This approach clearly shows that if our neighbors are currently facing a refugee crisis and turn to us for assistance, we must view them with respect and compassion; it could soon be our turn and we could need them.
There are constant examples across Africa where our lack of knowledge of our own shared refugee experiences or sometimes outright denial of history continues to inform the way we treat fellow Africans with disdain and hostility. Xenophobia (better known as Afrophobia) in South Africa is just one example. The African Centre for Migration and Society (ACMS) has carefully documented xenophobic attacks against other African refugees and migrants in South Africa since 1994, establishing several cases where in many South African towns and cities, South Africans attacked, injured or even killed African refugees and migrants. If only an average South African knew that not too long ago many African countries were safe havens to many of their countrymen and women during the anti-Apartheid struggle, they would think twice before unleashing xenophobic attacks against other Africans. Even across West and Central Africa, there have been several instances of both civilian African populations and their governments treating other African refugees in their countries with unbelievable hostility. When oil was suddenly discovered in Equatorial Guinea in the late 1990s and early 2000s, Equatoguineans and the government alike, quickly forgot their shared refugee and migrant history with Cameroon, and began a series of hostilities against Cameroonian refugees and migrants who came to Equatorial Guinea for “greener pastures.” An informed knowledge about our collective refugee and migrant experiences would go miles in ensuring that Africans and African governments treat other African refugees and migrants in their countries in a friendlier and more accommodative fashion.
There is, however, hope on the horizon. Africanists are increasingly turning their attention to refugee studies and the African refugee equilibrium. Two special issues are forthcoming in the Canadian Journal of African Studies and in Africa Today, both of which showcase Africa’s shared and diverse refugee and migrant experiences. These issues are part of the efforts to redress the image of Africa and the misconceptions surrounding the continent regarding migrants and refugee movements.
What all of these means is that it is only a matter of time before the static image of African refugee dynamics and the African refugee equilibrium will displace these ahistorical ideas.
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